17203	----	WITCHCRAFT AND DEVIL LORE IN THE CHANNEL ISLANDS TRANSCRIPTS FROM THE OFFICIAL RECORDS OF THE GUERNSEY ROYAL COURT, WITH AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION AND HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. BY JOHN LINWOOD PITTS, _Membre de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie._ _Editor of "The Patois Poems of the Channel Islands;" "The Sermon on the Mount and the Parable of the Sower, in the Franco-Norman Dialects of Guernsey and Sark," &c., &c._ Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. --EXODUS xxii, 18. [Illustration] Guernsey: GUILLE-ALLÈS LIBRARY, AND THOMAS M. BICHARD, PRINTER TO THE STATES. 1886. [_All Rights Reserved._] TO EDGAR MACCULLOCH, ESQUIRE, F.S.A., LONDON AND NORMANDY, AND MEMBER OF THE FOLKLORE SOCIETY, BAILIFF OF GUERNSEY, WHOSE HISTORICAL RESEARCHES HAVE TENDED SO MUCH TO ELUCIDATE THE TIME-HONOURED CONSTITUTION AND ANCIENT CUSTOMS OF HIS NATIVE ISLAND, THIS BRIEF RECORD OF ONE OF THE DARKEST CHAPTERS IN ITS CHEQUERED ANNALS Is Dedicated WITH SENTIMENTS OF THE HIGHEST RESPECT AND ESTEEM. _Venena magnum fas nefasque non valent Convertere humanam vicem._ HORACE, Epod. V. 87-8. FOREWORD. In presenting to the public another little volume of the "Guille-Allès Library Series," it affords me much pleasure to acknowledge various kindnesses experienced during its preparation. From Edgar MacCulloch, Esq., F.S.A., Bailiff of Guernsey, I have received several valuable hints and suggestions bearing upon the subject; and also from F.J. Jérémie, Esq., M.A., Jurat of the Royal Court. I am also particularly indebted to James Gallienne, Esq., Her Majesty's Greffier, for his uniform kindness and courtesy in allowing the fullest access at all times to the Archives under his care, not only in respect to the subject-matter of the present publication, but also in other historical researches which I have wished to make. I am equally obliged to Mr. E.M. Cohu and Mr. H.J.V. Torode, Deputy-Greffiers, and to Mr. A. Isemonger, Bailiff's Clerk, for various information and much ready help, which materially facilitated my investigations. All these gentlemen have my cordial acknowledgments and best thanks. J.L.P. Guernsey, December, 1885. NOTE.--The Seal represented on the title page is that of the Guernsey Bailiwick. It was first granted by Edward I. in the seventh year of his reign (1279), and bears the inscription: S. BALLIVIE INSULE DE GERNEREYE. CONTENTS. _Page_ DEDICATION v. FOREWORD vii. TABLE OF CONTENTS viii. INTRODUCTION 1 WITCHCRAFT IN GUERNSEY 1 The Witches' Sabbath 2 The Devil's Ointment 2 Three Women burnt for Heresy in Guernsey 3 WITCHCRAFT IN JERSEY 4 Ordinance of the Royal Court 4 Women Hanged and Burnt *4 Mr. Philippe Le Geyt's Opinion 5 Later Superstitions 5 The Pricking of Witches *5 _Sorcerots_, or Witches' Spells 6 Torture of Witches in Guernsey *6 " " Scotland 7 GENERAL PERSECUTION OF WITCHES *7 On the Continent *7 In America *7 In England 8 In Scotland 8 CONFESSIONS OF GUERNSEY WITCHES UNDER TORTURE 9 Collette Du Mont 11 Marie Becquet 15 Isabel Becquet 16 DEPOSITIONS AGAINST COLLAS BECQUET 22 NOTE ON THE GUERNSEY RECORDS 27 WITCHCRAFT TRIALS IN GUERNSEY, 1563-1634 28 THE STORY IN BRIEF OF THE GUILLE-ALLÈS LIBRARY 33 INTRODUCTION. The Witchcraft superstitions of the Channel Islands, sad as they were in their characteristics and results--as is abundantly evidenced by our judicial records--were but a part and parcel of that vast wave of unreasoning credulity which swept across the civilised world during the Middle Ages, and more or less affected every class of society, and all sorts and conditions of men. From the lists given in the following pages (pp. 28-32), it will be seen that in about seventy-one years, during the reigns of Elizabeth, James I. and Charles I., no fewer than seventy-eight persons--fifty-eight of them being women, and twenty of them men--were brought to trial for Sorcery in Guernsey alone. Out of these unfortunate victims, three women and one man appear to have been burnt alive; twenty-four women and four men were hanged first and burnt afterwards; one woman was hanged for returning to the island after being banished; three women and one man were whipped and had each an ear cut off; twenty-two women and five men were banished from the island; while five women and three men had the good fortune to be acquitted. Most of these accused persons were natives of Guernsey, but mention is made of one woman from Jersey, of three men and a woman from Sark, and of a man from Alderney. With regard to the gatherings at the so-called Witches' Sabbaths, there can be no doubt that--quite apart from the question of any diabolic presence at such meetings--very questionable assemblies of people did take place at intervals among the inhabitants of many countries. Probably these gatherings first had their rise in the old pagan times, and were subsequently continued from force of habit, long after their real origin and significance had been forgotten. Now, it would be very easy for these orgies to become associated--particularly in the then superstitious condition of the popular mind--with the actual bodily presence of the Devil as one of the participants; while it is also not improbable that, in some cases at least, heartless and evil-minded persons worked upon the prevailing credulity to further their own nefarious purposes. Our esteemed Bailiff has offered a suggestion or two of considerable value on this point with regard to certain Guernsey phases of the superstition. He thinks it highly probable that some of these deluded women were actually the dupes of unprincipled and designing men, who arrayed themselves in various disguises and then met their unfortunate victims by appointment. This idea is, indeed, borne out to a great extent by some of the particulars stated in the following confessions. For instance, some of the women assert that when they met the Devil he was in the form of a dog, _but rather larger_; he always stood upon his hind legs--probably the man's feet; and, when he shook hands with them, his paw _felt like a hand_--doubtless it _was_ a hand. Another suggestion of the Bailiff's is also worth notice. It is that the black ointment so often mentioned as being rubbed on the bodies of the so-called witches, had a real existence, and may have been so compounded as to act as a narcotic or intoxicant, and produce a kind of extatic condition, just as the injection of certain drugs beneath the skin is known to do now. These suggestions are certainly worth consideration as offering reasonable solutions of at least two difficulties connected with those strange and lamentable superstitions. In one way or other there must have been some physical basis for beliefs so widely extended and so terribly real. Imagination, of course, possesses a marvellous power of modification and exaggeration, but still it requires some germs of fact around which to crystallise. And it is to the discovery of the nature of such germs that a careful and conscientious observer will naturally turn his attention. * * * * * While speaking of the burning of Witches in Guernsey, I may also refer for a moment to the three women who, in Queen Mary's reign suffered death by fire, for heresy, because the reason of their condemnation and punishment has caused some controversy, and is often associated in the popular mind with a charge of sorcery. Dr. Heylin in his _Survey_ (page 323), says:-- Katherine Gowches, a poor woman of St. Peter-Port, in Guernsey, was noted to be much absent from church, and her two daughters guilty of the same neglect. Upon this they were presented before James Amy, then dean of the island, who, finding in them that they held opinions contrary to those then allowed about the sacrament of the altar, pronounced them heretics, and condemned them to the fire. The poor women, on the other side, pleaded for themselves, that that doctrine had been taught them in the time of King Edward; but if the queen was otherwise disposed, they were content to be of her religion. This was fair but it would not serve; for by the dean they were delivered unto Helier Gosselin, then bailiff, and by him unto the fire, July 18, 1556. One of these daughters, Perotine Massey, she was called, was at that time great with child; her husband, who was a minister, having in those dangerous times fled the island; in the middle of the flames and anguish of her torments, her belly broke in sunder, and her child, a goodly boy, fell down into the fire, but was presently snatched up by one W. House, one of the by-standers. Upon the noise of this strange incident, the cruel bailiff returned command that the poor infant must be cast again into the flames, which was accordingly performed; and so that pretty babe was born a martyr, and added to the number of the holy innocents. Parsons, the English Jesuit, has asserted that the women were felons and were executed for theft, while other apologists have described them as prostitutes and generally infamous in character. The original sentences, however, which still exist at the Guernsey _Greffe_, and which I have examined, conclusively settle the question. Both the ecclesiastical sentence, which is in Latin, and the civil sentence, which is in French, distinctly describe the charge as one of _heresy_, and make no mention whatever of any other crime as having aught to do with the condemnation. It has been questioned too whether a child could be born alive under such circumstances. Mr. F.B. Tupper, in his _History of Guernsey_ (page 151), says: "We are assured by competent surgical authority that the case is very possible"; and he further mentions that in a volume entitled _Three Visits to Madagascar_, by the Rev. Wm. Ellis, published in London, in 1858, a precisely similar case is stated to have occurred in that island. A native woman was burnt for becoming a convert to Christianity, and her infant, born in the flames, was thrust into them again, and burnt also. Lord Tennyson refers to this Guernsey martyrdom in his historical drama of _Queen Mary_ (Act v. Scene iv.). It is night-time in London; a light is burning in the Royal Palace; and he makes two "Voices of the Night" say:-- _First_:--There's the Queen's light. I hear she cannot live. _Second_:--God curse her and her Legate! Gardiner burns Already; but to pay them full in kind, The hottest hold in all the devil's den Were but a sort of winter; Sir, in Guernsey, I watch'd a woman burn; and in her agony The mother came upon her--a child was born-- And, Sir, they hurl'd it back into the fire, That, being thus baptised in fire, the babe Might be in fire for ever. Ah, good neighbour, There should be something fierier than fire To yield them their deserts. With regard to Witchcraft in Jersey, I have not had an opportunity of personally examining the official records there. I find, however, some information on the subject, given by M. De La Croix, in his _Ville de St. Hélier_, and _Les Etats de Jersey_, upon which I have drawn. In the way of legislation, the Guernsey Court does not appear to have promulgated any penal statutes on the subject, being content to treat the crime as one against the common law of the Island. In Jersey on the contrary, Witchcraft was specially legislated against at least on one occasion, for we find that on December 23rd, 1591, the Royal Court of that island passed an Ordinance, of which the following is the purport:-- Forasmuch as many persons have hitherto committed and perpetrated great and grievous faults, as well against the honour and express commandment of God as to the great scandal of the Christian faith, and of those who are charged with the administration of justice, by seeking assistance from Witches and Diviners in their ills and afflictions; and seeing that ignorance is no excuse for sin, and that no one can tell what vice and danger may ensue from such practices: This Act declares that for the time to come everyone shall turn away from such iniquitous and diabolical practices, against which the law of God decrees the same punishments as against Witches and Enchanters themselves; and also in order that the Divine Vengeance may be averted, which on account of the impunity with which these crimes have been committed, now threatens those who have the repression of them in their hands. It is, therefore, strictly forbidden to all the inhabitants of this island to receive any counsel or assistance in their adversities from any Witches or Diviners, or anyone suspected of practicing Sorcery, under pain of one month's imprisonment in the Castle, on bread and water; and on their liberation they shall declare to the Court the cause of such presumption, and according as this shall appear reasonable, shall be dealt with as the law of God directs. In 1562 two women were executed in Jersey for witchcraft. One of them named _Anne_, a native of St. Brelade's, was burnt at St. Helier's; and the other, _Michelle La Blanche_, expiated her crime at the gibbet of the Hurets, in the parish of St. Ouen, because criminals dwelling on the Fief Haubert de St. Ouen, were, in accordance with custom, required to be executed within the boundaries of the said Fief--seeing that it possessed a gallows-right--and their goods and lands became forfeited to the Seigneur. In 1583 a rather curious point of law was raised in connection with a pending witch-trial at St. Helier's. On the 15th of February in that year, a suspected witch named _Marion Corbel_, who had been imprisoned in the Castle awaiting her trial, suddenly died. Whereupon her relatives came forward and claimed to be heirs to her goods and chattles, seeing that she had not been convicted of the imputed crime, and urging that her death put an end to further criminal proceedings. The Queen's Procureur, however--it was in the reign of Elizabeth--contended that death was no bar to the completion of the indictment, although it had effectually removed the criminal from the jurisdiction of the Court, as far as punishment was concerned. The very reasonable claim of the deceased woman's relatives was therefore set aside, and the defunct of course being found guilty, her possessions reverted to the crown. Again, forty years later, in 1623, an old woman of sixty, named _Marie Filleul_, daughter of _Thomas Filleul_, of the parish of St. Clement's, was tried before a jury of twenty-four of her countrymen, and found guilty of the diabolical crime of Sorcery. She was therefore hanged and burnt as a witch, and her goods were confiscated to the King [James I.], and to the Seigneurs to whom they belonged. It may be interesting to note here the opinion of Mr. Philippe Le Geyt, the famous commentator on the constitution and laws of Jersey, and one of the most enlightened men of his time, who for many years was Lieutenant-Bailiff of that island. He was born in 1635 and died in 1715, in his eighty-first year. In Vol. I., page 42, of his works, there occurs a passage of which the following is a translation:-- As Holy Scripture forbids us to allow witches to live, many persons have made it a matter of conscience and of religion to be severe in respect to such a crime. This principle has without doubt made many persons credulous. How often have purely accidental associations been taken as convincing proofs? How many innocent people have perished in the flames on the asserted testimony of supernatural circumstances? I will not say that there are no witches; but ever since the difficulty of convicting them has been recognized in the island, they all seem to have disappeared, as though the evidence of the times gone by had been but an illusion. This shows the instability of all things here below. Coming down now to within a century ago, we find an article in the _Gazette de Jersey_, of Saturday, March 10th, 1787, complaining of the great increase of wizards and witches in the island, as well as of their supposed victims. The writer says that the scenes then taking place were truly ridiculous, and he details a case that had just occurred at St. Brelade's as corroborative of his assertion. It appears that a worthy householder there, had dreamed that a certain wizard appeared to him and ordered him to poison himself at a date which was specified, enjoining him above all things not to mention the incident to anyone. The poor silly fellow was dreadfully distressed, for he felt convinced that he would have to carry out the disagreeable command. At the same time he was quite unable to keep so momentous a secret to himself, and so he divulged the approaching tragedy to his wife. The good woman's despair was fully equal to his own, and after much anxious domestic counsel they determined to seek the good offices of a White Witch (_une Quéraude_), with the hope that her incantations might overcome the evil spells of the Black Witch who was causing all the mischief. This White Witch prescribed lengthened fasting and other preparations for the great ordeal, and on a given night she and the bewitched householder, together with his wife and four or five trusty friends with drawn swords, shut themselves up in a room, and commenced their mysterious ceremonial. There was the boiling of occult herbs; the roasting of a beeve's heart stuck full of nails and pins; the reading of certain passages from the family Bible; a mighty gesticulating with the swords, which were first thrust up the chimney to prevent the Black Witch from coming down, and anon were pointed earthward to hinder him from rising up; and so the ridiculous game went on. The only person who benefited was of course the imposter, who was paid for her services; while we may perhaps charitably hope that her dupes also were afterwards easier in their minds. The writer adds that many other persons besides this man at St. Brelade's, had latterly believed themselves bewitched, and had consulted wizards, who were thus driving a profitable trade. * * * * * Among the indications and symptoms of a witch, are reckoned various bodily marks and spots, said to be insensible to pain (page 20), inability to shed tears, &c. The pricking of witches was at one time a lucrative profession both in England and Scotland, one of the most noted prickers being a wretched imposter named Matthew Hopkins who was sent for to all parts of the country to exercise his vile art. Ralph Gardner, in his _England's Grievance Discovered_ (1655), speaks also of two prickers, Thomas Shovel and Cuthbert Nicholson, who, in 1649 and 1650, were sent by the magistrates of Newcastle-on-Tyne, into Scotland, there to confer with another very able man in that line and bring him back to Newcastle. They were to have twenty shillings, but the Scotchman three pounds, per head _of all they could convict_, and a free passage there and back. When these wretches got to any town--for they tried all the chief market-towns in the district--the crier used to go round with his bell, desiring "all people that would bring in any complaint against any woman for a witch, they should be sent for and tried by the person appointed." As many as thirty women were brought at once into the Newcastle town-hall, stripped and pricked, and twenty-seven set aside as guilty. Gardner continues:-- The said witch-finder acquainted Lieutenant-Colonel Hobson that he knew women whether they were witches or no by their looks; and when the said person was searching of a personable and good-like woman, the said colonel replied and said, 'Surely this woman is none, and need not be tried;' but the Scotchman said she was, for the town said she was, and therefore he would try her; and presently, in sight of all the people, laid her body naked to the waist, with her clothes over her head, by which fright and shame all her blood contracted into one part of her body, and then he ran a pin into her thigh, and then suddenly let her coats fall, and then demanded whether she had nothing of his in her body, but did not bleed? But she, being amazed, replied little. Then he put his hands up her coats and pulled out the pin, and set her aside as a guilty person and child of the devil, and fell to try others, whom he made guilty. Lieutenant-Colonel Hobson, perceiving the alteration of the aforesaid woman by her blood settling in her right parts, caused that woman to be brought again, and her clothes pulled up to her thigh, and required the Scot to run the pin into the same place, and then it gushed out of blood, and the said Scot cleared her, and said she was not a child of the devil. If this precious wretch had not been stopped he would have declared half the women in the north country to be witches. But the magistrates and the people got tired of him at last, and his imposture being discovered, he was hanged in Scotland. At the gallows he confessed that he had been the death of 220 men and women in England and Scotland, simply for the sake of the twenty shillings which he generally received as blood-money. * * * * * The belief in _Sorcerots_, or witches' spells of a peculiar kind, mentioned in the _Depositions_ (pages 22, 23, &c.) receives curious modern confirmation by a kindred superstition still current among the emancipated negroes of the United States. It was described in a letter on "Voudouism in Virginia" which appeared in the _New York Tribune_, dated Richmond, September 17, 1875. Mr. Moncure D. Conway, in quoting this and commenting on it in his _Demonology and Devil-Lore_ (Vol. I. pages 68-69), says that it belongs to a class of superstitions generally kept close from the whites, as he believes, because of their purely African origin. Mr. Conway is, however, probably mistaken about the origin, seeing that the same belief prevailed in Guernsey three centuries ago. The extract from the letter is as follows:-- If an ignorant negro is smitten with a disease which he cannot comprehend, he often imagines himself the victim of witchcraft, and having no faith in "white folks' physic" for such ailments, must apply to one of these quacks. A physician residing near the city [Richmond] was invited by such a one to witness his mode of procedure with a dropsical patient for whom the physician in question had occasionally charitably prescribed. Curiosity led him to attend the seance, having previously informed the quack that since the case was in such hands he relinquished all connection with it. On the coverlet of the bed on which the sick man lay, was spread a quantity of bones, feathers, and other trash. The charlatan went through with a series of so-called conjurations, burned feathers, hair, and tiny fragments of wood in a charcoal furnace, and mumbled gibberish past the physician's comprehension. He then proceeded to rip open the pillows and bolsters, and took from them some queer conglomerations of feathers. These he said had caused all the trouble. Sprinkling a whitish powder over them, he burnt them in his furnace. A black offensive smoke was produced, and he announced triumphantly that the evil influence was destroyed, and that the patient would surely get well. He died not many days later, believing, in common with his friends and relatives, that the conjurations of the "trick doctor" had failed to save him only because resorted to too late. From the above it is evident that the natural tendency of wool and feathers to felt and clog together, has been distorted, by widely different peoples, into an outward and visible sign that occult and malignant influences were at work. * * * * * As to the manner in which wizards and witches were put to the question in Guernsey--that is tortured until they confessed whatever was required of them--Mr. Warburton, a herald and celebrated antiquary who wrote in the reign of Charles II., has given a circumstancial account, the correctness of which may be relied on. His _Treatise on the History, Laws and Customs of the Island of Guernsey_, bears the date of 1682, and at page 126 he says:-- By the law approved (_Terrien_, Lib. xii. cap. 37), torture is to be used, though not upon slight presumption, yet where the presumptive proof is strong, and much more when the proof is positive, and there wants only the confession of the party accused. Yet this practice of torturing does not appear to have been used in the island for some ages, except in the case of witches, when it was too frequently applied, near a century since. The custom then was, when any person was supposed guilty of sorcery or witchcraft, they carried them to a place in the town called _La Tour Beauregard_, and there, tying their hands behind them by the two thumbs, drew them to a certain height with an engine made for that purpose, by which means sometimes their shoulders were turned round; and sometimes their thumbs torn off; but this fancy of witches has for some years been laid aside. It will be noticed in the subsequent _Confessions_ of witches (page 11, &c.), that a number of colons (:) are inserted in the text where they would not be required as ordinary marks of punctuation. These correspond, however, to similar pauses in the original records, and evidently indicate the successive stages by which the story was wrung from the wretched victims. They are thus endowed with a sad and ghastly significance, which must be borne in mind when the confessions are read. It must also be remembered that these confessions were not usually made in the connected form in which they stand recorded, but were rather the result of leading questions put by the inquisitors, such as: How old were you when the Devil first appeared to you? What form did he assume? What parish were you in? What were you doing? &c., &c. Melancholy and revolting as all this is, yet the tortures made use of in Guernsey were far from possessing those refinements of cruelty and that intensity of brutality which characterised the methods practiced in some other countries. Let us take as a proof of this, the notable case of Dr. Fian and his associates, who were tried at Edinburgh, in the year 1591. The evidence was of the usual ridiculous kind, and a confession--afterwards withdrawn--was extorted by the following blood-curdling barbarities, as is quoted by Mr. C.K. Sharpe, in his _Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland_:-- The said Doctor was taken and imprisoned, and used with the accustomed paine provided for those offences inflicted upon the rest, as is aforesaid. First, by thrawing of his head with a rope, whereat he would confesse nothing. Secondly, he was perswaded by faire meanes to confesse his follies; but that would prevaile as little. Lastly, hee was put to the most severe and cruell paine in the world, called the bootes, who, after he had received three strokes, being inquired if he would confesse his damnable actes and wicked life, his toong would not serve him to speak; in respect whereof, the rest of the witches willed to search his toong, under which was founde two pinnes thrust up into the heade, whereupon the witches did say, now is the charme stinted, and shewed that these charmed pins were the cause he could not confesse any thing; then was he immediately released of the bootes, brought before the King, his confession was taken, and his own hand willingly set thereunto.... But this Doctor, notwithstanding that his owne confession appeareth remaining in recorde under his owne hande-writing, and the same thereunto fixed in the presence of the King's majestie, and sundrie of his councell, yet did he utterly denie the same. Whereupon the Kinges majestie, perceiving his stubbourne wilfulnesse, conceived and imagined that in the time of his absence hee had entered into newe conference and league with the devill, his master, and that hee had beene agayne newly marked, for the which he was narrowly searched; but it coulde not in anie wice be founde; yet, for more tryall of him to make him confesse, hee was commaunded to have a most straunge torment, which was done in this manner following: His nailes upon all his fingers were riven and pulled off with an instrument called in Scottish a turkas, which in England wee call a payre of pincers, and under everie nayle there was thrust in two needles over, even up to the heads; at all which tormentes notwithstanding the Doctor never shronke anie whit, neither woulde he then confesse it the sooner for all the tortures inflicted upon him. Then was hee, with all convenient speed, by commandement, convaied againe to the torment of the bootes, wherein he continued a long time, and did abide so many blowes in them, that the legges were crusht and beaten together as small as might bee, and the bones and flesh so bruised that the blood and marrow spouted forth in great abundance, whereby they were made unserviceable for ever; and notwithstanding all those grievous paines and cruell torments, hee would not confess anie thing; so deeply had the devill entered into his heart, that hee utterly denied all that which he had before avouched, and would saie nothing thereunto but this, that what he had done and sayde before, was onely done and sayde for fear of paynes which he had endured. After this horrible treatment the wretched man was strangled and burnt. The following list gives a few--and only a few--of the direful results to which this widespread superstition led. The instances are chiefly taken from Dr. Réville's _History of the Devil_, and Haydn's well-known _Dictionary of Dates_:-- At Toulouse a noble lady, fifty-six years of age, named Angela de Labarète, was the first who was burnt as a sorceress, in which special quality she formed part of the great _auto-da-fé_ which took place in that city in the year 1275; at Carcasonne, from 1320 to 1350, more than four hundred executions for witchcraft are on record; in 1309 many Templars were burnt at Paris for witchcraft; Joan of Arc was burnt as a witch at Rouen, May 30th, 1431; in 1484 Pope Innocent VIII. issued a bull against witchcraft, causing persecutions to break out in all parts of Christendom; during three months of the year 1515, about five hundred witches were burnt at Geneva; in 1524 many persons were burnt for the same crime in the Diocese of Como; about the year 1520 a great number suffered in France, and one sorcercer confessed to having 1,200 associates; from 1580 to 1595--a period of fifteen years--about nine hundred witches were burnt in Lorraine; between 1627 and 1629, no fewer than one hundred and fifty-seven persons, old and young, and of all ranks, were burnt at Wurtzburg, in Bavaria; in 1634 a clerk named Urbain Grandier, who was parish priest at Loudon, was burnt on a charge of having bewitched a whole convent of Ursuline nuns; in 1654 twenty poor women were put to death as witches in Brittany; in 1648-9 serious disturbances on account of witchcraft took place in Massachusetts; and in 1683 dreadful persecutions raged in Pennsylvania from the same cause; in 1692, at Salem, in New England, nineteen persons were hanged by the Puritans for witchcraft, and eight more were condemned, while fifty others confessed themselves to be witches, and were pardoned; in 1657 the witch-judge Nicholas Remy boasted of having burnt nine hundred persons in fifteen years; in one German principality alone, at least two hundred and forty-two persons were burnt between 1646 and 1651, including many children from one to six years of age; in 1749 Maria Renata was burnt at Wurtzburg for witchcraft; on January 17th, 1775, nine old women were burnt at Kalish, in Poland, on a charge of having bewitched and rendered unfruitful the lands belonging to the palatinate; at Landshut, in Bavaria, in 1756, a young girl of thirteen years was convicted of impure intercourse with the Devil and put to death. There were also executions for sorcery at Seville, in Spain, in 1781, and at Glarus, in Switzerland, in 1783; while even as late as December 15th, 1802, five women were condemned to death for sorcery at Patna, in the Bengal Presidency, by the Brahmins, and were all executed. IN ENGLAND the record of Witchcraft is also a melancholy chapter. A statute was enacted declaring all witchcraft and sorcery to be felony without benefit of clergy, 33 Henry VIII. 1541; and again 5 Elizabeth, 1562, and 1 James I. 1603. The 73rd Canon of the Church, 1603, prohibits the Clergy from casting out devils. Barrington estimates the judicial murders for witchcraft in England, during two hundred years, at 30,000; Matthew Hopkins, the "witch-finder," caused the judicial murder of about one hundred persons in Essex, Norfolk, and Suffolk, 1645-7; Sir Matthew Hale burnt two persons for witchcraft in 1664; about 1676 seventeen or eighteen persons were burnt as witches at St. Osyths, in Essex; in 1705 two pretended witches were executed at Northampton, and five others seven years afterwards; in 1716, a Mrs. Hicks, and her daughter, a little girl of nine years old, are said to have been hanged as witches at Huntingdon, but of this there seems to be some doubt. The last really authentic trial in England for witchcraft took place in 1712, when the jury convicted an old woman named Jane Wenham, of Walkerne, a little village in the north of Hertfordshire, and she was sentenced to be hanged. The judge, however, quietly procured a reprieve for her, and a kind-hearted gentleman in the neighbourhood gave her a cottage to live in, where she ended her days in peace. With regard to the mobbing of reputed sorcerers, it is recorded that in the year 1628, Dr. Lamb, a so-called wizard, who had been under the protection of the Duke of Buckingham, was torn to pieces by a London mob. While even as late as April 22nd, 1751, a wild and tossing rabble of about 5,000 persons beset and broke into the work-house at Tring, in Hertfordshire, where seizing Luke Osborne and his wife, two inoffensive old people suspected of witchcraft, they ducked them in a pond till the old woman died. After which, her corpse was put to bed to her husband by the mob, of whom only one person--a chimney-sweeper named Colley, who was the ringleader--was brought to trial and hanged for the detestable outrage. The laws against witchcraft in England had lain dormant for many years, when an ignorant person attempted to revive them by filing a bill against a poor old woman in Surrey, accused as a witch; this led to the repeal of the laws by the statute 10 George II. 1736. Credulity in witchcraft, however, still lingers in some of the country districts of the United Kingdom. On September 4th, 1863, a poor old paralysed Frenchman died in consequence of having been ducked as a wizard at Castle Hedingham, in Essex, and similar cases have since occurred; while on September 17th, 1875,--only ten years ago--an old woman named Ann Turner, was killed as a witch, by a half-insane man, at Long Compton, Warwickshire. IN SCOTLAND, thousands of persons were burnt for witchcraft within a period of about a hundred years, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Among the victims were persons of the highest rank, while all orders of the state concurred. James I. even caused a whole assize to be prosecuted because of an acquittal; the king published his work on _Dæmonologie_, in Edinburgh, in 1597; the last sufferer for witchcraft in Scotland was at Dornoch, in 1722. CONFESSIONS OF WITCHES UNDER TORTURE. _LE 4 JUILLET 1617._ Devant AMICE DE CARTERET, Ecuyer, Baillif, présents, etc. SENTENCE DE MORT. _Collette Du Mont_, veuve de _Jean Becquet_, _Marie_, sa fille, femme de _Pierre Massy_, _Isbel Bequet_, femme de _Jean Le Moygne_, etant par la coutume renommée et bruit des gens de longue main du bruit de damnable art de Sorcellerie, et icelles sur ce saisies et apprehendées par les Officiers de Sa Majesté, apres s'etre volontairement sumis et sur l'enquete generale du pays, et apres avoir été plusieurs fois conduites en Justice, ouïes, examinées et confrontées sur un grand nombre de depositions faites et produites à l'encontre d'elles par les dits Officiers, par lesquels est clair et evident qu'auraient, par longeur d'années, le susdit diabolique art de Sorcellerie, par avoir non seulement jété leur sort sur des choses insensible, mais aussi tenu en langueur par maladies etranges plusieurs personnes et betes, et aussi cruellement meurti grand nombre d'hommes, femmes, et enfans, et fait mourir plusieurs animaux, recordés aux informations sur ce faites, s'ensuit qu'elles sont plainement convaincues et atteintes d'etre Sorcieres. Pour reparation duquel crime a eté dit par la Cour que lesdites femmes seront presentement conduites la halte au col au lieu de supplice accoutumé, et par l'Officier criminel attachées à un poteau, pendues, etranglées, osciées, et brulées, jusqu'à ce que leur chairs et ossements soient reduits en cendres, et leurs cendres eparcées; et sont tous les biens, meubles, et heritages, si aucun en ont acquit, à Sa Majesté. Pour leur faire confesser leurs complices, qu'elles seront mises à la question en Justice avant que d'etre executées. [TRANSLATION.] Before AMICE DE CARTERET, Esq., Bailiff, and the Jurats. _JULY 4th, 1617._ SENTENCE OF DEATH. _Collette du Mont_, widow of _Jean Becquet_; _Marie_, her daughter, wife of _Pierre Massy_; and _Isabel Becquet_, wife of _Jean Le Moygne_, being by common rumour and report for a long time past addicted to the damnable art of Witchcraft, and the same being thereupon seized and apprehended by the Officers of His Majesty [James I.], after voluntarily submitting themselves, both upon the general inquest of the country, and after having been several times brought up before the Court, heard, examined, and confronted, upon a great number of depositions made and produced before the Court by the said Officers; from which it is clear and evident that for many years past the aforesaid women have practiced the diabolical art of Witchcraft, by having not only cast their spells upon inanimate objects, but also by having retained in languor through strange diseases, many persons and beasts; and also cruelly hurt a great number of men, women, and children, and caused the death of many animals, as recorded in the informations thereupon laid, it follows that they are clearly convicted and proved to be Witches. In expiation of which crime it has been ordered by the Court that the said women shall be presently conducted, with halters about their necks, to the usual place of punishment, and shall there be fastened by the Executioner to a gallows, and be hanged, strangled, killed, and burnt, until their flesh and bones are reduced to ashes, and the ashes shall be scattered; and all their goods, chattels, and estates, if any such exist, shall be forfeited to His Majesty. In order to make them disclose their accomplices, they shall be put to the question before the Court, previous to being executed. Sentence de mort ayant esté prononcée à l'encontre de _Collette Du Mont_, veuve de _Jean Becquet_, _Marie_, sa fille, femme de _Pierre Massy_, et _Isbel Becquet_, femme de _Jean Le Moygne_, auroyent icelles confessé comme suit:-- CONFESSION DE COLLETTE DU MONT. Premier, la diste _Collette_ immediatement appres la dyte sentence donnée, et avant que de sortir de l'auditoire, a librement recognu qu'elle estoit Sorciere; toutesfois ne voulant particularizer les crimes qu'auroit commis a esté conduite avec les autres en la Maison de la Question, et la dite question luy estant applicquée, a confessé qu'elle estoit encore jeune lors que le Diable en forme de chat: s'aparut à elle: en la Paroisse de Torteval: lors qu'elle retournoit de son bestiall, estant encore jour, et qu'il print occasion de la seduire, par l'inciter à se venger d'un de ses voisins avec lequell elle estoit pour lors en querelle pour quelque domage qu'elle auroit receu par les bestes d'yceluy; que depuis lors qu'elle avoit eu querelle avec quelcun, ill se representoit à elle en la susdite forme: et quelquefois en forme de chien: l'induisant à se venger de ceux contre lesquels elle estoit faschée: la persuadant de faire mourir des personnes et bestes. Que le Diable l'estant venue querir pour aller au Sabat, l'appelloit sans qu'on s'en apperceust: et luy bailloit ung certain onguent noir, duquel (appres s'etre despouillée) elle se frotoit le dos, ventre et estomac: et s'estant revestuë, sortoit hors son huis, lors estoit incontinent emportée par l'air d'une grande vitesse: et se trouvoit a l'instant au lieu du Sabat, qui estoit quelquefois pres le cimetiere de la paroisse: et quelques autres fois pres le rivage de la mer, aux environs du Chateau de Rocquaine: là où estant arivée s'y rencontroit souvent quinze ou saize Sorciers et Sorcieres avec les Diables, qu'y estoient là en forme de chiens, chats, et lievres: lesquels Sorciers et Sorcieres elle n'a peu recognoistre, parce qu'ils estoyent tous noircis et deffigurés: bien est vray avoir ouy le Diable les evocquer par leur noms, et se souvaient entre autres de la _Fallaise_, et de la _Hardie_; dit confesse qu'a l'entrée du Sabath: le Diable les voulant esvosquer commencoit par elle quelquefois. Que sa fille _Marie_, femme de _Massy_, à present condamnée pour pareill crime, est Sorciere: et qu'elle la menée par deux fois au Sabath avec elle: ne scait par où le Diable la merchée: qu'au Sabath appres avoir adoré le Diable, lequell se tenoit debout sur ses pieds de derriere, ils avoient copulation avec luy en forme de chien; puis dansoyent dos a dos. Et appres avoir dansé, beuvoyent du vin (ne scait de quelle couleur), que le Diable versoit hors d'un pot en ung gobelet d'argent ou d'estrain; lequell vin ne luy sembloit sy bon que celuy qu'on boit ordinarement; mangeoist aussy du pain blanc quj leur presentoit--n'a jamais veu de sell au Sabath. Confesse que le Diable luy avoit donné charge d'appeler en passant _Isebell le Moygne_: lors quelle viendroit au Sabath, ce qu'elle a fait diverses fois. Qu'au partir du Sabath le Diable l'incitoit à perpetrer plusieurs maux: et pour cest effect luy bailloit certaines pouldres noires, qu'il lui commandoit de ietter sur telles personnes et bestes qu'elle voudroit; avec laquelle pouldre elle a perpetré plusieurs maux desquels ne se souvient: entres autres en ietta sur _Mes. Dolbell_, ministre de la paroisse: et fut occasion de sa mort par ce moyen. Par ceste mesme pouldre ensorcela la femme de _Jean Maugues_: toutesfois nie qu'elle soit morte par son sort: qu'elle toucha par le costé, et ietta de ceste pouldre sur la femme defuncte de _Mr Perchard_, successeur ministre du dit _Dolbell_, en ycelle paroisse, ycelle estant pour lors enceinte, tellement qu'elle la fist mourir et son fruit--ne scait quelle occasion luy fut donnée par la dite femme. Que sur le refus que la femme de _Collas Tottevin_ luy fist de luy donner du laict: elle fist assecher sa vache, en iettant sur ycelle de ceste pouldre: laquelle vache elle regarit par appres en luy faisant manger du son, et de l'herbe terrestre que le Diable lui bailla. Sentence of Death having been pronounced against _Collette Du Mont_, widow of _Jean Becquet_; _Marie_, her daughter, wife of _Pierre Massy_; and _Isabel Becquet_, wife of _Jean Le Moygne_; the same have confessed as follows:-- CONFESSION OF COLLETTE DU MONT. First, the said _Collette_ immediately after the said sentence was pronounced, and before leaving the Court, freely admitted that she was a Witch; at the same time, not wishing to specify the crimes which she had committed, she was taken, along with the others, to the Torture Chamber, and the said question being applied to her, she confessed that she was quite young when the Devil, in the form of a cat: appeared to her: in the Parish of Torteval: as she was returning from her cattle, it being still daylight, and that he took occasion to lead her astray by inciting her to avenge herself on one of her neighbours, with whom she was then at enmity, on account of some damage which she had suffered through the cattle of the latter; that since then when she had a quarrel with anyone, he appeared to her in the aforesaid form: and sometimes in the form of a dog: inducing her to take vengence upon those who had angered her: persuading her to cause the death of persons and cattle. That the Devil having come to fetch her that she might go to the Sabbath, called for her without anyone perceiving it: and gave her a certain black ointment with which (after having stripped herself), she rubbed her back, belly and stomach: and then having again put on her clothes, she went out of her door, when she was immediately carried through the air at a great speed: and she found herself in an instant at the place of the Sabbath, which was sometimes near the parochial burial-ground: and at other times near the seashore in the neighbourhood of Rocquaine Castle: where, upon arrival, she met often fifteen or sixteen Wizards and Witches with the Devils who were there in the form of dogs, cats, and hares: which Wizards and Witches she was unable to recognise, because they were all blackened and disfigured: it was true, however, that she had heard the Devil summon them by their names, and she remembered among others those of _Fallaise_ and _Hardie_; confessed that on entering the Sabbath: the Devil wishing to summon them commenced with her sometimes. Admitted that her daughter _Marie_, wife of _Massy_, now condemned for a similar crime, was a Witch: and that she took her twice to the Sabbath with her: at the Sabbath, after having worshipped the Devil, who used to stand up on his hind legs, they had connection with him under the form of a dog; then they danced back to back. And after having danced, they drank wine (she did not know what colour it was), which the Devil poured out of a jug into a silver or pewter goblet; which wine did not seem to her so good as that which was usually drunk; they also ate white bread which he presented to them--she had never seen any salt at the Sabbath. Confessed that the Devil had charged her to call, as she passed, for _Isabel le Moygne_: when she came to the Sabbath, which she had done several times. On leaving the Sabbath the Devil incited her to commit various evil deeds: and to that effect he gave her certain black powders, which he ordered her to throw upon such persons and cattle as she wished; with this powder she perpetrated several wicked acts which she did not remember: among others she threw some upon _Mr Dolbell_, parish minister: and was the occasion of his death by these means. With this same powder she bewitched the wife of _Jean Maugues_: but denied that the woman's death was caused by it: she also touched on the side, and threw some of this powder over the deceased wife of _Mr Perchard_, the minister who succeeded the said _Dolbell_ in the parish, she being _enceinte_ at the time, and so caused the death of her and her infant--she did not know that the deceased woman had given her any cause for doing so. Upon the refusal of the wife of _Collas Tottevin_ to give her some milk: she caused her cow to dry up, by throwing upon it some of this powder: which cow she afterwards cured again by making it eat some bran, and some terrestrial herb that the Devil gave her. CONFESSION DE MARIE BECQUET. _Marie_, femme de _Pierre Massy_, appres sentence de mort prononcée a l'encontre d'elle, ayant esté mise a la question, a confessé qu'elle est Sorciere; et qu'à la persuation du Diable, quj s'aparut à elle en forme de chien: elle se donna à luy: que lors que se donna à luy ill la print de sa patte par la main: qu'elle s'est oint du mesme onguent que sa mere s'oignoit: et a esté au Sabath sur la banque pres du Chateau de Rocquaine, avec luy, où n'y avoit que le Diable et elle, se luy sembloit: en la susdite forme en laquelle elle la veu plusieurs fois. A été aussi au Sabath une fois entre autres en la ruë, _Collas Tottevin_; que toutes les fois qu'elle alloit au Sabath le Diable la venant querir luy sembloit qu'il la transformait en chienne; dit que sur le rivage, pres du dit Rocquaine: le Diable, en forme de chien, ayant eu copulation avec elle, luy donnoit du pain et du vin, qu'elle mangeoit et beuvoit. Que le Diable luy bailloit certaines pouldres: lesquelles pouldres ill luy mettoit dans la main, pour ietter sur ceux qu'il luy commanderoit: qu'elle en a ietté par son commandement sur des personnes et bestes: notament sur l'enfant _Pierre Brehaut_. Item, sur la femme _Jean Bourgaize_ lors qu'estoit enciente. Item, sur l'enfant _Leonard le Messurier_. CONFESSION OF MARIE BECQUET. _Marie_, wife of _Pierre Massy_, after sentence of death had been pronounced against her, having been put to the question, confessed that she was a Witch; and that at the persuasion of the Devil, who appeared to her in the form of a dog: she gave herself to him: that when she gave herself to him he took her by the hand with his paw: that she used to anoint herself with the same ointment as her mother used: and had been to the Sabbath upon the bank near Rocquaine Castle with her, where there was no one but the Devil and her as it seemed: in the aforesaid form in which she had seen him several times: She was also at the Sabbath on one occasion among others in the road near _Collas Tottevin's_; every time that she went to the Sabbath, the Devil came to her, and it seemed as though he transformed her into a female dog; she said that upon the shore, near the said Rocquaine: the Devil, in the form of a dog, having had connection with her, gave her bread and wine, which she ate and drank. The Devil gave her certain powders: which powders he put into her hand, for her to throw upon those whom he ordered her: she threw some of them by his orders upon persons and cattle: notably upon the child of _Pierre Brehaut_. Item, upon the wife of _Jean Bourgaize_, while she was _enceinte_. Item, upon the child of _Leonard le Messurier_. CONFESSION D'ISABEL BECQUET. _Isebelle_, femme de _Jean de Moygne_, ayant esté mise a la question, a tout aussytost confessé qu'elle est Sorciere: et que sur ce qu'elle tomba en querelle avec la _Girarde_, sa belle-soeur: le Diable en forme de lievre print occasion de la seduire: se representant à elle en plain jour dans une ruë pres de sa maison: et la persuadant et incitant de se donner à luy: et que l'aideroit à se venger de la dite _Girarde_ et de tous aultres: à laquelle persuation n'ayant icelle à l'instant voulu condescendre: aussy tout disparut: mais incontinent luy vint derechef au devant en la mesme ruë, et poursuyvant sa premiere pointe: l'exhortoit aux mesmes fins que dessus: cela fait, ill la laissa et se retira, apres luy avoir, au prealable, mis une pochée de pasnés; qu'elle portoit pour lors, une certaine pouldre noire envelopée dans ung linge qu'il mist: laquelle pouldre elle retint par devers soy. S'aparut à elle une autre fois en mesme forme au territoire de la ville, l'incitant dereschef à se donner à luy, à quoy ne voulant icelle condescendre luy fist adonc requeste de luy donner une beste vive: lors de ce pas revint ches elle querir ung poullet, qu'elle luy apporta au mesme lieu où l'avoit laissé, lequell ill print: et appres l'avoir remerecie luy donna assignation de se trouver le lendemain avant jour au Sabath, avec promesse qu'il l'enverroit querir: suivant laquelle promesse, estant la nuittée ensuivant, la vielle _Collette du Mont_ venant la querir, lui bailla de l'onguent noir qu'elle avoit eu du Diable; duquell (apprès s'estre despouillée) s'oignit le dos, et le ventre, puis s'estant revestuë, sortit l'huis de sa maison: lors fut à l'instant enlevée: et transportée au travers hayes et buissons, pres la banque sur le bord de la mer, aux environs du Chasteau de Rocquaine, lieu ordinaire où le Diable gardoit son Sabath; là où ne fut sytost arivée, que le Diable ne vint la trouver en forme de chien avec deux grandes cornes dressées en hault: et de l'une de ses pattes (qui lui sembloyent comme mains), la print par la main: et l'appellant par son nom, luy dist qu'estoit la bien venuë: lors aussytost le Diable la fist mettre sur ses genoux: luy se tenant debout sur ses pieds de derrière; luy ayant fait detester l'Esternelle en ses mots: _Je renie Dieu le Pere, Dieu le Fils et Dieu le St. Esprit_; se fist adorer et invocquer en ses termes: _Nostre Grand Maistre aide nous!_ avec paction expresse d'adherer à luy; que cela fait, ill ont copulation avec elle en la susdite forme de chien, ung peu plus grand: puis elle et les aultres danserent avec luy dos à dos: qu'apres avoir dansé, le Diable versoit hors d'un pot du vin noir, qu'il leur presentoit dans une escuelle de bois, duquell elle beut, toutesfois ne luy sembloit sy bon que le vin quj se boit ordinairement: qu'il y avoit du pain--mais n'en mangea point: confesse qu'elle se donna lors à luy pour ung mois: ainsy retournerent du Sabath comme y estoyent allés. Que seconde fois fut au Sabath, apres que la vielle _Collette_ l'eut esté querir et qu'elle se fist oindre d'onguent cy dessus;--declare qu'à l'entree du Sabath eut dereschef copulation avec le Diable, et dansa avec luy; appres avoir dansé, à sa solicitation de prolonger le temps, se donna à luy pour trois ans; qu'au Sabath le Diable faisoit evocation des Sorciers et Sorcieres par ordre (se souvient tresbien y avoir ouy le Diable appeller la vielle _Collette_, la premiere, en ces termes: _Madame la Vielle Becquette_); puis la _Fallaise_; appres la _Hardie_. Item, _Marie_, femme de _Massy_, fille de la dite _Collette_. Dit appres eux, elle mesme estoit evosquée par le Diable, en ses termes: _La Petite Becquette_; qu'elle y a ouy aussy evosquer _Collas Becquet_, fils de la dit vielle (lequell la tenoit par la main en dansant, et une que ne cognoist la tenoit par l'autre main): qu'il y en avoit viron six autres que ne cognoissoit: que la dite vielle estoit tousjours proche du Diable: que quelque fois tandis que les uns dansoyent les autres avoyent copulation avec les Diables en forme de chien: et estoyent au Sabath viron trois ou quatre heures, non plus. Qu'estant au Sabath le Diable la mercha en haut de la cuisse: laquelle merche ayant esté reuisitée par les sage femmes, ont raporté avoir mis dedans une petite espingue bien avant, qu'elle n'a point senty, et n'en est sorty aulcuns sang; ne scait par ou le Diable a merche les autres: que les premiers venues au lieu du Sabath attendoyent les autres; et apparoissoyent tous les Sorciers et Sorcieres en leur propre formes: toutesfois noircis et defficgurés, et ne les pouvoit en cognoistre. Que le Diable apparoissoit quelque fois en forme de boucq au Sabath; ne la veu en autres formes; qu'au departir, ill se faisoit baiser la derriere, leur demandant quant reviendroyent: les exhortoit qu'eussent à adherer tousiours a luy: et faire des maux, et pour cest effet leur bailloit certaines pouldres noires envelopées dans ung drapeau, pour en ietter sur ceux qu'ils vouloyent ensorcerer: qu'au departir du Sabath le Diable s'en alloit d'un coste et eux de l'autre: appres les avoir toutes prinses par la main: Qu'à l'instigation du Diable elle en a jetté sur plusieurs personnes et bestes: notament sur _Jean Jehan_, lors qu'il vint chez elle querir ung pourceau. Item, sur l'enfant _James Gallienne_, et sur aultres: Item, sur les bestes de _Brouart_ et aultres. Que c'estoit le Diable qui fut veu ches le susdit _Gallienne_, en forme de rat et bellette, ycelle estant pour lors aux environs de la maison du dit _Gallienne_, et s'estant venu rendre à elle en resemblance d'homme, la frapa de plusieurs coups par le visage et teste: dont estoit ainsy meurdie et deschirée lors que fut veüe le lendemain par _Thomas Sohier_. Et croit que la cause de ce maltraitement fut pour ce que ne voulut aller avec le Diable chez le dit _Gallienne_. Qu'elle n'alloit point au Sabath sinon lors que son mary estoit demeuré la nuict en pescherie à la mer. Que lors qu'elle vouloit ensorceler quelcun, sa poudre estant faillie, le Diable s'aparoissoit à elle, luy disant qu'allast en querir en tell endroit qu'il luy nommoit, ce qu'elle faisoit, et ne falloit d'y en trouver. CONFESSION OF ISABEL BECQUET. _Isabel_, wife of _Jean le Moygne_, having been put to the question, at once confessed that she was a Witch: and that upon her getting into a quarrel with the woman _Girarde_, who was her sister-in-law: the Devil, in the form of a hare, took occasion to tempt her: appearing to her in broad daylight in a road near her house: and persuading and inciting her to give herself to him: and that he would help her to avenge herself on the said _Girarde_, and everybody else: to which persuasion she would not at the moment condescend to yield: so he at once disappeared: but very soon he came again to her in the same road, and pursuing his previous argument: exhorted her in the same terms as above: that done, he left her and went away, after having previously put her a sackful of parsnips; she then took a certain black powder wrapped in a cloth which he placed; which powder she kept by her. He appeared to her another time under the same form in the town district, inciting her anew to give herself to him, but she not wishing to comply, he next made a request to her to give him some living animal: whereupon she returned to her dwelling and fetched a chicken, which she carried to him to the same place where she had left him, and he took it: and after having thanked her he made an appointment for her to be present the next morning before daylight at the Sabbath, promising that he would send for her: according to which promise, during the ensuing night, the old woman _Collette du Mont_, came to fetch her, and gave her some black ointment, which she had had from the Devil; with this (after having stripped herself) she anointed her back and belly, then having dressed herself again she went out of her house door: when she was instantly caught up: and carried across hedges and bushes to the bank on the sea shore, in the neighbourhood of Rocquaine Castle, the usual place where the Devil kept his Sabbath; no sooner had she arrived there than the Devil came to her in the form of a dog, with two great horns sticking up: and with one of his paws (which seemed to her like hands) took her by the hand: and calling her by her name told her that she was welcome: then immediately the Devil made her kneel down: while he himself stood up on his hind legs; he then made her express detestation of the Eternal in these words: _I renounce God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost_; and then caused her to worship and invoke himself in these terms: _Our Great Master, help us!_ with a special compact to be faithful to him; and when this was done he had connection with her in the aforesaid form of a dog, but a little larger: then she and the others danced with him back to back: after having danced, the Devil poured out of a jug some black wine, which he presented to them in a wooden bowl, from which she drank, but it did not seem to her so good as the wine which is usually drunk: there was also bread--but she did not eat any: confessed that she gave herself to him for a month: they returned from the Sabbath in the same manner that they went there. The second time she was at the Sabbath was after the old woman _Collette_ had been to fetch her, and she anointed herself with the ointment as above stated;--declared, that on entering the Sabbath, she again had connection with the Devil and danced with him; after having danced, and upon his solicitation to prolong the time, she gave herself to him for three years; at the Sabbath the Devil used to summon the Wizards and Witches in regular order (she remembered very well having heard him call the old woman _Collette_ the first, in these terms: _Madame the Old Woman Becquette_): then the woman _Fallaise_; and afterwards the woman _Hardie_. Item, he also called _Marie_, wife of _Massy_, and daughter of the said _Collette_. Said that after them, she herself was called by the Devil: in these terms: _The Little Becquette_: she also heard him call there _Collas Becquet_, son of the said old woman (who [_Collas_] held her by the hand in dancing, and someone [a woman] whom she did not know, held her by the other hand): there were about six others there she did not know: the said old woman was always the nearest to the Devil: occasionally while some were dancing, others were having connection with the Devils in the form of dogs; they remained at the Sabbath about three or four hours, not more. While at the Sabbath the Devil marked her at the upper part of the thigh: which mark having been examined by the midwives, they reported that they had stuck a small pin deeply into it, and that she had not felt it, and that no blood had issued: she did not know in what part the Devil had marked the others: those who came first to the place of the Sabbath, waited for the others; and all the Wizards and Witches appeared in their proper forms: but blackened and disfigured so that they could not be recognised. The Devil appeared sometimes in the form of a goat at the Sabbath; never saw him in other forms: on their departure he made them kiss him behind, and asked them when they would come again: he exhorted them always to be true to him: and to do evil deeds, and to this end he gave them certain black powders, wrapped in a cloth, for them to throw upon those whom they wished to bewitch: on leaving the Sabbath, the Devil went away in one direction and they in the other: after he had taken them all by the hand: At the instigation of the Devil she threw some of the powder over several persons and cattle: notably over _Jean Jehan_, when he came to her house to look for a pig. Item, over the child of _James Gallienne_, and over others. Item, over the cattle of _Brouart_, and of others. It was the Devil that was seen at the said _Gallienne's_ house in the form of a rat and a weazle, she herself being then in the neighbourhood of _Gallienne's_ house, and he [the Devil] came to her in the form of a man, and struck her several blows on the face and head: by which she was bruised and torn in the way that she was seen the next day by _Thomas Sohier_. And she believed that the cause of this maltreatment was because she would not go with the Devil to the house of the said _Gallienne_. She never went to the Sabbath except when her husband remained all night fishing at sea. Whenever she wanted to bewitch anyone and her powder happened to have been all used up, the Devil appeared to her and told her to go to such a place, which he named, for some more, and when she did so, she never failed to find it there. DEPOSITIONS CONTRE COLLAS BECQUET. _Le xvij Mai 1617._ _Susanne Le Tellier_, veufve de _Pierre Rougier_, depose que son mary estant decedé, trouva des sorcerots en son lict; et qu'en son djt lict mortuaire, il se plaignoit esté ensorcelé par _Collas Becquet_, avec lequel avoit eu dispute, sur laquelle dispute luy dyt que s'en repentiroit; et la dessus fut prins de m...[A] duquel fut douze jours malade; qu'ils trouverent quarante-quatre sorcerots en l'oreiller de son enfant, que les uns estoyent fait comme herissons, les autres comme pommes, et les autres plats comme la rouelle de la main; et du fill de chanvre entortillé avec de plumes. [Footnote A: Illegible in the record.] _Susanne_, femme de _Jean Le Messurier_, depose que son mary et _Collas Becquet_ plaiderent à jour passé ensemble; qu'allors ils avoyent ung enfant ayant de viron six semaines, et comme elle le despouilloit au soir, pour le coucher, il tomba sur l'estomac du djt enfant une beste noire laquelle fondit si tost que fut tombée, d'aultant qu'elle fist debvoir de la rechercher et ne peut jamais apercevoir qu'elle devint; incontinent l'enfant fut prins de mal et ne voulu teter, mais fut fort tormenté; que s'estant avisée de regarder dans l'oreiller du djt enfant y trouverent des sorcerots cousus de fil, et les ayant tirés et bien espluché la plume de l'oreiller, y regarda sept jours appres et y entrouva derechef avec une febve noire percée; dequoy, ayant le djt _Becquet_ ouy qu'il en estoit suspecté, sa femme vint ches la deposante comme le djt _Becquet_ estoit à la mer, et luy djt qu'à raison du bruit que la deposante avoit sucité sur son mary, iceluy _Becquet_ fuetteroit le djt _Mesurier_, son mary, et elle, et les tueroit; qu'apres cela la deposante fut ches eux leur dire que ne les craignoit, ny luy ny elle, de ce qu'ils la menacoyent de tuer son mary et elle; qu'ayant la deposante un jour six grands poulets qui couroyent appres leur mere, ils sortirent de leur maison et revinent au soir; et un à un se mirent a saulter en hault contre la cheminée et manget la scie, qu'ils moururent tous un à un, à voy ...[B] comme ils sautoyent, jusques au dernier qui dura en vie jusqu'à une heure devant le jour qu'il mourut; que depuis que l'eurent declare à _Mr Deljsle_ et les eut menacés, il a amendé à son enfant et se porte bien. [Footnote B: Illegible in the record.] _Collas Rougier_ depose que son frere _Piere Rougier_ en mourant chargeoit _Collas Becquet_ de sa mort. _Collas Hugues_ raport qu'estant en une nopsce y survint _Collas Becquet_ jouet avec sa belle-fille, laquelle le rebouta; et des le mesme soir elle fut frapée de telle facon qu'on pensoit qu'elle mourust à chacune heure; qu'elle est demeurée mechaignée de coste, et trouva un des sorcerots en son lict, qui pour lors furent monstrés à Messrs de Justice qui estoyent à tenir des veues à St. Pierre; que la djte fille tomboit quelque fois y terre toute aveuglée. La femme du djt _Hugues_ depose tout de mesme que son mary. _Jean De Garis_, fils _Guillaume_, depose qu'il y a viron deux ou trois ans qu'ayant presté quelque argent sur un gage à _Collas Becquet_, luy demandant son argent, ou qu'il feroit ventiller son gage; luy repartit le djt _Becquet_ à feray donc ventiller autre chose; qu'estant le djt _de Garis_ arivé en sa maison, trouva la fille malade et affligée; qu'ils trouverent des sorcerots et aultres brouilleries par plusieurs fois à l'oreiller de leur enfant; mais que la mere du djt _Becquet_ estant venue en la maison du djt _de Garis_, luy donna à boire de l'eau et la moitié d'un pain comme avoit esté conseillé de faire; depuis ne trouverent plus rien à l'oreiller du djt enfant; toutesfois pour eviter les djts sorcerots, ont toujours depuis couché leur enfant sur la paille; croit que ce mal leur ariva par leur moyen. _Mr Thomas de Ljsle_ depose que _Thomas Brouart_, qui demeure en sa maison, ayant appellé le fils de _Collas Becquet_, sorcier, il arriva qu'il fut un jour trouvé au lict du djt _Thomas_ grand nombre de vers, et les ayant le djt _Sieur de Ljsle_ veus, les jugea comme une formioniere, tant estoyent mouvans et espais, et à peine en peuvent vuider le dit enfant, l'ayant mis en plusieurs endroits; qu'appres fut le djt enfant accueillis de poulx de telle maniere que quoyque luy changeassent des chemises et habits tous les jours ne l'en pouvoyent franchir; et qu'ayant le djt _Thomas Brouart_ un corset tout neuf, fut tellement couvert de poulx qu'on n'auroit peu cognoistre le drap, et fut contraint le faire jetter parmy les choux; surquoy fait menacer aultre _Massi_ de la batre si elle ne s'abstenoit d'ainsy traiter son enfant; qu'estant revenu trouva le djt corset parmis les choux denue de poulx, lesquels du depuis ont quitté le djt _Brouart_. _Jacques le Mesurier_ depose qu'il y a viron deux ou trois ans qu'il rencontra _Collas Becquet_ et _Perot Massi_, quj avoyent du poisson, et d'aultant qu'ils lui debvoyent de l'argent, il voulut prendre de leur poisson à rabatre, mais ne luy en voulant bailler, eurent quelque dispute; sur quoy l'un des djts _Becquet_ ou _Massi_ le menacerent qu'il s'en repentiroit; qu'au bout de deux ou trois jours il fut saisi d'un mal que le brusloit, et quelques fois devenoit tout morfondu, sans qu'on le peust eschauffer, et sans aulcune relache; qu'il fut en ces tourments pres d'un mois. _Collas Becquet_ entendit que le deposant le chargeoit d'estre causte de son mal, et menacoit qu'il tueroit le djt deposant; mais bientost appres fut le djt deposant guery; dit de cuider et de croire les djts _Becquet_ et _Massy_, ou un d'iceux, fut cause de son mal. DEPOSITIONS AGAINST COLLAS BECQUET. _MAY 17, 1617._ _Susanne Le Tellier_, widow of _Pierre Rougier_, deposed that after her husband was dead she found witches' spells in his bed; and that while he was upon his said deathbed he complained of being bewitched by _Collas Becquet_, with whom he had had a quarrel, and who during the quarrel told him he would repent of it; whereupon he was taken with ...[A], whereof he was ill for twelve days; they also found forty-four witches' spells in her child's pillow, some of which were made like hedgehogs, others round like apples, and others again flat like the palm of the hand; and they were of hempen thread twisted with feathers. [Footnote A: Illegible in the record.] _Susanne_, wife of _Jean Le Messurier_, deposed that her husband and _Collas Becquet_ had angry words together one day; they had an infant about six weeks old, and as she was undressing it in the evening to put it to bed, there fell upon the stomach of the said infant, a black beast which melted away as soon as it fell, so that although she carefully sought for it, she could never discover what had become of it; immediately afterwards the infant was taken ill and would not suck, but was much tormented; being advised to look into the said infant's pillow, she found there several witches' spells sewn with thread; these she took out and carefully dressed all the feathers in the pillow; yet when she examined it again a week afterwards, she found there a black bean with a hole in it; of which, the said _Becquet_ hearing that he was suspected, his wife came to witness's house while the said _Becquet_ was at sea, and told her that on account of the rumour which witness had raised about her husband, he the said _Becquet_ would thrash the said _Messurier_, her husband, and herself, and would kill them; after that, witness went to their house to say they were not afraid either of him or her, or of their threats to kill her husband and her; witness had six big chickens which ran after their mother, going out of the house in the morning and returning at night; and one by one they began to jump up against the chimney and eat the soot, so that they all died one after the other, ...[B] as they jumped, until the last one which remained alive up to one hour of daybreak, when it died; after they had told this to _Mr. de Lisle_, and he had threatened the people, her infant recovered and remained well. [Footnote B: Illegible in the record.] _Collas Rougier_ deposed that his brother _Pierre Rougier_ when dying charged _Collas Becquet_ with causing his death. _Collas Hugues_ reported that being at a wedding, _Collas Becquet_ arrived there, and began to toy with his daughter-in-law, who repelled his advances; the very same evening she was taken ill in such a manner that they thought she would have died from one hour to another; besides which she remained under the charm, and they found one of the witches' spells in her bed, which was shown to the Members of the Court, who were making an inspection at St. Peter's; the said girl sometimes fell to the ground quite blinded. The wife of the said _Hugues_ deposed to exactly the same as her husband. _Jean de Garis_, son of _William_, deposed that about two or three years ago, having lent some money on pledge to _Collas Becquet_, he asked him for the money, or else for a verification of his security; when the said _Becquet_ replied that he would let him know what his security was; the said _de Garis_ having then returned home, found his daughter sick and afflicted; they found witches' spells and other conjurations several times in their child's pillow; but the mother of the said _Becquet_ having come to the said _de Garis's_ house, he gave her a drink of water and half-a-loaf of bread, as he had been advised to do; since which time they had found nothing more in the child's pillow; however to avoid all risk of the said witches' spells they had always since then let their child sleep upon straw; he fully believed that this evil had come upon them by their means. _Mr. Thomas de Lisle_ deposed that _Thomas Brouart_, who resided in his house, having called the son of _Collas Becquet_ a wizard, it happened that there was one day found in the said _Thomas's_ bed a great number of maggots, which the said _Sieur de Lisle_ saw, and compared to an ant-hill, so lively and thick were they, and they could hardly clear the said child of them, although they put it in different places; afterwards the said child gathered lice in such a manner that although its shirts and clothes were changed every day they could not free it; the said _Thomas Brouart_ also had a brand new vest, which was so covered with lice that it was impossible to see the cloth, and he was compelled to have it thrown among the cabbages; upon which he went and threatened _Massi's_ wife that he would beat her if she did not abstain from thus treating his child; and on returning he found the said vest among the cabbages clear of lice, which had also since then quitted the said _Brouart_. _Jacques le Mesurier_ deposed that about two or three years ago he met _Collas Becquet_ and _Perot Massi_, who had some fish and who moreover owed him money; he wished to take some of their fish at a reduced price, but they would not agree to it, and they quarrelled; whereupon one of the two, either _Becquet_ or _Massi_, threatened him that he would repent of it; and at the end of two or three days, he was seized with a sickness in which he first burnt like fire and then was benumbed with cold so that nothing would warm him, and this without any cessation; he suffered in this way for nearly a month. _Collas Becquet_ heard that witness charged him with being the cause of his sickness, and he threatened that he would kill witness; but very soon afterwards the said witness was cured; and he affirms and believes that the said _Becquet_ and _Massy_, or one of them, was the cause of his attack. * * * * * NOTE ON THE GUERNSEY RECORDS. The Records at the Guernsey _Greffe_, from which the foregoing confessions and depositions have been transcribed, and whence the following list of accusations is compiled, are of a very voluminous character. In fact there is enough matter in them, connected with Witchcraft alone, to fill at least a couple of thick octavo volumes. There is, however, so much sameness in the different cases, and such a common tradition running through the whole, that the present excerpts give a very fair idea of the features which characterise the mass. While some of these Records are tolerably complete, the greater part of them unfortunately are fragmentary and imperfect. The books in which they were originally written seem to have been formed of a few sheets of paper stitched together. Then at some later period a number of these separate sections--in a more or less tattered condition--were gathered into volumes and bound together in vellum. It is evident, however, that very little care was exercised in their arrangement in chronological order. The consequence is that one portion of a trial sometimes occurs in one part of a volume, and the rest in another part; sometimes the depositions alone seem to have been preserved; sometimes the confessions; while in many cases the sentences pronounced are all that can now be discovered. Nevertheless these old Records enshrine much that is interesting, and very well deserve a more exhaustive analysis than they have ever yet received. There are also in the margins of these volumes, scores of pen-and-ink sketches of a most primitive description, depicting the carrying out of the various rigours of the law. Rough and uncouth as these illustrations are, they nevertheless possess a good deal of graphic significance, and I hope to reproduce some of them in facsimile, in a future publication. They represent, for instance, culprits hanging on the gallows--sometimes two or three in a row--with a fire kindled underneath; others attached to stakes in the midst of the flames; others, again, racing away under the lash of the executioner, &c., &c., and thus form a most realistic comment on the judicial severities recorded in the text. WITCHCRAFT TRIALS IN GUERNSEY, From 1563 to 1634, a period of 71 years. QUEEN ELIZABETH.--1558-1603. HELIER GOSSELIN, Bailiff, 1550-1563. _November 19th, 1563._ Gracyene Gousset, Catherine Prays, Collette Salmon, wife of Collas Dupont, Condemned to death and the Royal pardon refused. _December 17th, 1563._ Françoise Regnouff, Martin Tulouff, Condemned to death and the Royal pardon refused. _December 22nd, 1563._ Collette Gascoing. This woman was found guilty, and the Royal pardon being refused, she was whipped, had one of her ears cut off, and was banished from the island. THOMAS COMPTON, Bailiff, 1563-1572. _July 30th, 1570._ Jeannette Du Mareesc, Was banished for seven years. _October 27th, 1570._ Michelle Tourtell, Banished from the island. _November 3rd, 1570._ Coliche Tourtell, James de la Rue, Both banished from the island. _November 10th, 1570._ Lorenche Faleze, wife of Henry Johan, Banished from the island. _November 17th, 1570._ Thomasse Salmon. Marie Gauvein, wife of Ozouet. Both these women were whipped, had each an ear cut off, and were banished from the island. GUILLAUME BEAUVOIR, Bailiff, 1572-1581. No prosecutions for Witchcraft seem to have taken place during his tenure of office. THOMAS WIGMORE, Bailiff, 1581-1588. _1583._ Collas de la Rue. The result of this trial is uncertain. LOUIS DEVYCKE, Bailiff, 1588-1600. No Witchcraft prosecutions during his term of office. KING JAMES I.--1603-1625. AMICE DE CARTERET, Bailiff, 1601-1631. _1611._ Marie Rolland. The result of this trial is uncertain. _June 11th, 1613._ Oliver Omont, Cecille Vaultier, wife of Omont, Guillemine, their daughter, Were all banished from the island. _July 17th, 1613._ Laurence Leustace, wife of Thomas Le Compte, Banished from the island. _July 4th, 1617._ Collette du Mont, widow of Jean Becquet. Marie, her daughter, wife of Pierre Massy. Isabel Becquet, wife of Jean Le Moygne. All three women, after being found guilty, confessed under torture, and were then hanged and burnt. _August 8th, 1617._ Michelle Jervaise, widow Salmon. Jeanne Guignon, wife of J. de Callais, and two of her children. These four persons were hanged and burnt, after being put to the question. _October 17th, 1617._ Marie de Callais. Philipine le Parmentier, widow of Nicolle, of Sark. These two women were hanged and burnt, after being previously put to the question. _November 25th, 1617._ Thomasse de Calais, wife of Isaac le Patourel, Banished from the island. _November 25th, 1617._ Christine Hamon, wife of Etienne Gobetell. This woman was banished from the island, but returned on May 6th, 1626, when she was again arrested and sentenced to death. She was hanged July 21st, 1626. _August 1st, 1618._ Jean de Callais, together with his son, and servants. All these were charged with practicing Witchcraft, and were sent out of the island. _December, 1618._ Jean Nicolle, of Sark, Being found guilty, was whipped, had an ear cut off, and was banished from the island. _May 1st, 1619._ Pierre Massi, Condemned to be hanged. He, however, contrived to get out of prison and drowned himself. _August 7th, 1619._ Jeanne Behot, Banished from the island. _April 22nd, 1620._ Girete Parmentier, Jeanne Le Cornu, widow of Collas le Vallois. These two women were banished. _May 8th, 1622._ Collette de l'Estac, wife of Thomas Tourgis. Collette Robin. Catherine Hallouris, widow Heaulme. These three women were hanged and burnt, after being put to the question. _October 17th, 1622._ Thomas Tourgis, of the Forest. Jeanne Tourgis, his daughter. Michelle Chivret, wife of Pierre Omont. All three were burnt alive. _October 19th, 1622._ Jean Le Moigne. Guillemine la Bousse. This man and woman were set at liberty. _November 30th, 1622._ Perine Marest, wife of Pierre Gauvin, Banished, together with her husband and children. _October 3rd, 1623._ Etienne Le Compte, Hanged and burnt. _May 28th, 1624._ Marguerite Tardif, wife of P. Ozanne, Set at liberty. _June 4th, 1624._ Ester Henry, wife of Jean de France. This woman was burnt alive. The sentence states that her flesh and bones are to be reduced to ashes and scattered by the winds, as being unworthy of any sepulture. _July 16th, 1624._ Collette la Gelée. This woman was hanged and burnt. _October 22nd, 1624._ Jean Quaripel, Hanged and burnt. KING CHARLES I.--1625-1649. _July 23rd, 1625._ Elizabeth, wife of Pierre Duquemin, Banished for 7 years. _August 11th, 1626._ Jeanne de Bertran, wife of Jean Thomas, Hanged and burnt. _August 12th, 1626._ Marie Sohier, wife of J. de Garis, Hanged and burnt. _November 10th, 1626._ Judith Alexander, of Jersey, wife of Pierre Jehan, Hanged and burnt. _August 25th, 1627._ Job Nicolle, of Sark, Condemned to perpetual banishment. _January 16th, 1629._ Anne Blampied, wife of Thomas Heaulme, of the Forest. Thomas Heaulme, of the Forest. Both banished for seven years. _May 1st, 1629._ Marguerite Picot (l'Aubaine), Hanged and burnt. _August 7th, 1629._ Susanne Prudhome, wife of Guilbert, of the Castel, Put to the question, hanged, and burnt. JEAN DE QUETTEVILLE, Bailiff, 1631-1644. _July 1st, 1631._ Jehan Nicolle, of Sark, Set at liberty. _July 15th, 1631._ Marie Mabile, wife of Pierre de Vauriouf. Thomas Civret. Both were put to the question, hanged, and burnt. _July 23rd, 1631._ Susanne Rouane, wife of Etienne Le Compte, Judith Le Compte, } Bertrane " } four daughters of the above. Ester " } Rachel " } The mother was condemned to perpetual banishment from the island, and the daughters were banished for fifteen years. _October 1st, 1631._ Marie Mortimer, wife of François Chirret. Also her son. Both were set at liberty. _October 1st, 1631._ Vincente Canu, wife of André Odouère. Marie de Callais. Both were set at liberty. _December 10th, 1631._ Jehan Canivet. Renette de Garis, wife of Martin Maugeur. Elizabeth le Hardy, wife of Collas Deslandes. Simeone Mollett. Marie Clouet, wife of Pierre Beneste. All the above were condemned to perpetual banishment. _January 28th, 1634._ Jacob Gaudion, of Alderney, Condemned to perpetual banishment. _May 16th, 1634._ Marie Guillemotte, wife of Samuel Roland, known as Dugorne. Marie Rolland, her daughter. The mother was hanged and burnt, and the daughter was condemned to perpetual banishment. THE STORY IN BRIEF OF THE GUILLE-ALLÈS LIBRARY, GUERNSEY. BY J. LINWOOD PITTS. In concluding the editorial duties connected with the issue of this fourth volume of the "Guille-Allès Library Series," it seems to me that the time is an opportune one for adding some short account of the origin and foundation of the noble Institution from which the "Series" takes its name. The Guille-Allès Library is proving such an immense boon to our little insular community, that very naturally, many inquiries are from time to time made--especially by strangers--as to how its existence came about. In order to answer these questions we must go as far back as the year 1834. At that time Mr. Guille--who is a Guernseyman by birth--was but a boy of sixteen, and had been two years in America. He was serving his apprenticeship with a well-known firm in New York, and he enjoyed the privilege of access to a very extensive library in that city, founded by a wealthy corporation known as _The General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen_. The pleasure and profit which he derived from this source were so great, and made such a deep impression upon his mind that, young as he was, he formed the resolution that if his future life proved prosperous, and his position enabled him to do so, he would one day found a similar institution in his own little native island of Guernsey. Throughout the whole of his future career this intention was present with him; and commencing at once,--in spite of his then very limited means--to purchase books which should form a nucleus for the anticipated collection, he began to lay the foundation of the literary treasures which crowd the shelves of the Guille-Allès Library to-day. At the age of twenty, when out of his apprenticeship, he found himself the possessor of several hundreds of volumes of standard works, many of which are now in the Library, and upon which he must naturally look with peculiar and very legitimate pleasure, as being the corner stones of the subsequent splendid superstructure. Business affairs prospered with Mr. Guille. As time rolled on he was taken into partnership with the firm, as was also his friend and fellow-countryman, Mr. F.M. Allès, and his increasing prosperity enabled him to put his cherished project into more tangible shape. While on a visit to Guernsey in 1851, he wrote a few articles in the _Gazette Officielle_, with the view of drawing public attention to the importance of forming district or parish libraries. These articles attracted the notice of _The Farmers' Club_, an association of intelligent country gentlemen who met at the Castel. Their secretary, the late Mr. Nicholas Le Beir, wrote to Mr. Guille at the request of the members, informing him of their appreciation of his views, and of his having been elected an honorary member of their association, in token of their esteem. They had previously elected in a similar way the famous French poet Béranger, and also Guernsey's national bard, the late Mr. George Métivier. Mr. Guille accepted the honour, and the correspondence which ensued resulted in his offering his collection of books--supplemented by a considerable sum of money--towards forming the commencement of such libraries as he had been advocating. Nothing, however, really definite was done until Mr. Guille's next visit to Guernsey in 1855-6, when after consultation with that devoted friend of education, the late Mr. Peter Roussel, a meeting of a few friends--including Mr. Roussel and his venerable mother, Mr. Guille, Judge Clucas, Mr. Le Beir, and Mr. Henry E. Marquand--who were known to be favourable to the project was held, several handsome subscriptions were promised, Mr. Guille renewed his offer previously made to _The Farmers' Club_, and a workable scheme was matured. THE GUILLE LIBRARY, for so the Committee decided to name the undertaking, consequently commenced its useful career in 1856. The collection of books was divided into five sections, which were placed in separate cases, and located at convenient distances about the island--where they were taken charge of by friends--the largest being reserved for the town. The intention was to exchange these cases in rotation, and so establish a circulating library in the most comprehensive sense of the term. But this was, in reality, never carried out, for after the volumes had been read in their respective stations, they were returned to their places, and left to slumber unused, until Mr. Guille once more came to the island in 1867, with the intention of remaining permanently, and he then had them all brought to town and arranged in one central _depôt_. Mr. Guille also opened a branch Reading-room and Library at St. Martin's, in the hope of being able thereby to draw the young men of the parish from the degrading attractions of the public house. For three years he kept this comfortable room open, while in winter and summer neither rain nor storm prevented him from being present there every evening to personally superintend the undertaking. Ultimately, however, he found the strain too much for his health, and he discontinued the branch so as to concentrate more attention upon the central establishment in town. For five-and-twenty years, from 1856 to 1881, Mr. Guille worked steadily and unostentatiously at the benevolent enterprise which he had inaugurated. Death removed several of his early coadjutors, and for many years he bore all the financial burdens and toiled on single-handed and alone. What was still more discouraging was that he unfortunately had to encounter for a very long time an almost incredible amount of mental supineness on the part of those whom he was so disinterestedly seeking to benefit. It was not as though any desire for knowledge existed among the mass of the Guernsey people, and he only had to assume the pleasant duty of satisfying that desire. Such a desire did not exist. Many of the people not only never had read any books but they flatly declined to begin. Mr. Guille felt that this deplorable attitude ought to be combatted, and he therefore persevered in the thankless and difficult task of trying in the first place to create the want, and in the second place to satisfy it. A quarter-of-a-century's earnest effort in a good cause, however, cannot fail to produce some fruit, and within the last three or four years much brighter days have dawned. Mr. Guille's lifelong friend and former business partner, Mr. F.M. Allès,--who had often previously substantially assisted him,--has latterly thoroughly associated himself with the work, and the result is that the rudimentary scheme of 1856 has at length culminated in the splendid GUILLE-ALLÈS LIBRARY, which was thrown open to the public in the old Assembly Rooms, on the 2nd of January, 1882, and bears on its portal the appropriate motto: _Ingredere ut proficias_--"Enter that thou mayst profit." How admirably this fine Institution is fulfilling its mission is well-known to all who frequent it. It already contains a collection of over 35,000 volumes--to which constant additions are being made--of valuable and standard works in all branches of science, literature and art, both in the French and English languages, besides numerous works in German, Italian, Greek, Latin, &c. It has a commodious Reading-room, well supplied with journals and periodical publications; while a Society of Natural Science has also been inaugurated and meets in connection with it. The Guernsey Mechanics' Institution--after an existence of just half-a-century--was absorbed into it at the close of 1881; and the Library of the _Société Guernesiaise_--founded in 1867--now finds a home on its shelves. The subscription for membership is merely nominal, and Messrs. Guille and Allès have made arrangements to endow the Institution with such ample funds as shall secure in perpetuity the many benefits which it is conferring upon the island. THE FUTURE OF THE INSTITUTION is therefore fully assured and its wants provided for. The spacious new buildings which have been for many months in process of erection are now (December, 1885) rapidly approaching completion. They comprise a spacious and handsome Lecture Hall, capable of seating from 250 to 300 persons; a Book-room 63-ft. by 25-ft., exclusively for the lending department, and which will accommodate on its shelves from 45,000 to 50,000 additional volumes--with a large anteroom for the convenience of the subscribers. The present Reading-room will then be used for a Reference Library and Students' Consulting and Reading-room. There are also a General Reading-room, a Working Men's Reading-room, and numerous apartments suitable for Class-rooms and Committee-rooms. The roof of the original building has been reconstructed and raised so as to form a suite of rooms 100-ft. long, 24-ft. wide, and 10-ft. high. Lighted from the top these are specially adapted for the exhibition of objects of interest, pictures, or for a local museum. A convenient residence for the Librarian is arranged in a separate building, which is extended so as to provide on the ground floor convenient rooms for the reception and storing of books and for the special work of the Librarians. When the Library was first removed to the Assembly Rooms, the premises were leased from the States, who had purchased them in 1870. Subsequently, however, in December, 1883, Messrs. Guille and Allès purchased the Rooms from the States for £900 British, and afterwards bought from the Parish the plot of land behind the Rooms--which belonged to the Rectory--and upon which they have now built the spacious new premises above-mentioned. As soon as these extensions are available, the founders purpose inaugurating comprehensive courses of popular illustrated lectures on physical science, economic products, natural history, microscopic science, literary subjects, &c., which will appeal at once to the eye and the understanding, and impart a large amount of very useful knowledge in an easy and agreeable way. There will also be classes in various subjects, including the French, German and Italian languages, drawing, music, &c., &c., all of which will be open to girls as well as boys, women as well as men. In an island like Guernsey, where from the smallness of the community many of the young people necessarily have to go and seek their fortunes abroad, the advantages for self-culture offered by an Institution like this can scarcely be over-rated. The local facilities afforded for the acquisition of French are particularly marked, while it cannot for a moment be doubted that a young man or woman who can use both French and English with fluency, is much better equipped for the battle of life than is a person knowing only one of these languages. Whatever intellectual needs may become apparent in the people, these the Guille-Allès Library will set itself to supply. Its founders, indeed, are especially anxious that there should be no hard and fast barriers about its settlement, which might cramp its expansion or fetter its usefulness. On the contrary they desire--while adhering, of course, to certain main lines of intellectual activity--to imbue it with such elasticity of adaptation as will enable it to successfully grapple with the changing necessities of changing times. The chief wants of to-day may not necessarily be the most pressing requisites of a century hence. Therefore, one of the greatest essentials--and at the same time one of the greatest difficulties--in a foundation like this, is to provide for and combine within it such a fixity of principle and such an adaptability of administration as shall enable it to keep pace with the progress of the ages, and suit itself to the several requirements of succeeding generations as they pass. COST AND ENDOWMENT. The cost of carrying out this great enterprise--including the erection of buildings, purchase of books, fittings, &c.--has already amounted to between £15,000 and £20,000, and the outlay shows no signs of cessation. In addition to these expenses there is the Endowment Fund already referred to, and for this the munificent donors intend to set apart a sum to which the above amount bears but a small proportion. So that altogether the community will be indebted to them for an educational foundation worth a magnificent figure in money value alone, while besides this, we must not forget the long years of thoughtful care and of self-denying energy involved in maturing these splendid projects, or the healthy mental and moral stimulus which the conduct of these patriotic gentlemen has supplied. PRESENTATION OF PORTRAITS. A very pleasing ceremony took place on Wednesday, December 17th, 1884, at St. Julian's Hall, when His Excellency Major-General Sarel, C.B., Lieut.-Governor, presented Messrs. Guille and Allès with their portraits on behalf of a numerous body of subscribers resident in all parts of the island, and also in Paris, New York, and Brooklyn. A public meeting had been called on the 4th of February previous, when an influential Committee was appointed; about £227 was speedily raised, and then Mr. Frank Brooks was commissioned to paint two life-size portraits in oil, which gave great satisfaction when finished, and are now hung in the Library. Julius Carey, Esq., Chief Constable (Mayor) of St. Peter-Port, as President of the Portrait Committee, opened the proceedings, by briefly narrating the circumstances which had called the meeting together. His Excellency then, after a few preliminary remarks, said:-- He must express the very great pleasure which he felt in being present on such an interesting occasion, when the whole community were testifying their appreciation of the noble Library which had been founded for their benefit. Indeed he felt it a great honour to have been asked to present these handsome portraits to Messrs. Guille and Allès. It would not be necessary for him to dwell at any length on the antecedents of these gentlemen, who were well-known in the island. Many years ago Mr. Guille went to the United States, and there he found the advantages which accrued from having access to a good library. He then conceived the idea of one day bestowing a similar boon upon his own native island, and this project he had been happily spared to carry out. During his exile the thought had remained ever with him; he had not allowed business to engross all his attention; and now that he had returned once more to settle down in the little rock-bound island-home of his youth, he was reducing to practice the beneficent plans of earlier years. He was not content to lead a life of ease with the produce of his industry, but he had founded an institution of incalculable value for the moral and intellectual welfare of the isle. Then there was another large-hearted Guernseyman, Mr. Allès, who determined that his old friend Mr. Guille should not be left to carry out his noble scheme alone. They had long been associated in business enterprises, and they were now linked in the higher bond of a common desire for the well-being of their fellow-citizens. All honour to them for it. The Library told its own story and needed no encomium. All it wanted was constant readers and plenty of them, and he could not too strongly impress upon the people--and especially upon the rising generation--the immense advantages they would derive from availing themselves of its literary treasures. In conclusion, it simply remained for him, on behalf of the Committee and the Subscribers, to ask Messrs. Guille and Allès to accept these paintings, which would show to future generations of Guernseymen the form and features of two public benefactors who had deserved so well of their country and their kind. Mr. Guille, in response, gave a very interesting address in English, and Mr. Allès followed with an equally appropriate and practical speech in French, both gentlemen being received with prolonged applause, and listened to by the numerous assembly with the most interested attention. Brief complimentary addresses were then delivered by Edgar MacCulloch, Esq., F.S.A., Bailiff (Chief Magistrate) of Guernsey, and by F.J. Jeremie, Esq., M.A., Jurat of the Royal Court, and the proceedings terminated with a hearty vote of thanks to the Lieut.-Governor, proposed by the Very Rev. Carey Brock, M.A., Dean of Guernsey. A brass plate attached to Mr. Guille's portrait bears the following inscription:-- Presented to THOMAS GUILLE, Esq., by his numerous friends, in recognition of the great benefit he has conferred upon the inhabitants of his native Island as one of the Founders of the Guille-Allès Library. Guernsey, 17 December, 1884. A similar plate, bearing the name of Mr. Frederick Mansell Allès, is attached to his portrait. Note.--The Assembly Rooms were built by private subscription in 1782, at a cost of about £2,500, and had therefore been in existence exactly a century when they passed into the hands of Messrs. Guille and Allès in 1882. During this long period they were the fashionable _foyer_ of the Island's festivity and gaiety, and formed the scene of many a brilliant gathering. * * * * * A. DE GRUCHY & Co. THE OLDEST AND LARGEST HOUSE IN THE CHANNEL ISLANDS. ESTABLISHED 1810. GENERAL DRAPERY DEPARTMENTS 50 and 52, KING STREET, 2 and 6, KING'S ARCADE. _TAILORING and GENTLEMEN'S_ OUTFITTING DEPARTMENTS 46 and 48, KING STREET, and 1, KING'S ARCADE. FURNISHING DEPARTMENT 50, KING STREET, 10, KING'S ARCADE, and NEW STREET. Furnishing Ironmongery Department 5, KING'S ARCADE. ST. HELIER'S, JERSEY. * * * * * GUERNSEY. VAL-NORD BANK HOUSE Classical and Mathematical School MR. CHAMBERLAIN, PRINCIPAL. MONS. H. FRANÇOIS, FRENCH PROFESSOR. MISS LANE, AFTERNOON JUNIOR CLASS. The object Mr. Chamberlain has in view is to supply a thoroughly liberal Education. The general School Course comprises Biblical History, Ancient History, the History and Literature of our own Country; the Greek, Latin and French Languages; Geometrical, Isometrical, Architectural and Landscape Drawing; Euclid, Algebra and Trigonometry; Navigation, Geography and Mapping; the use of the Globes, both table and high-standing; Land Surveying, Mensuration, Book-keeping, English Grammar, Composition with Précis-writing and Analysis; and such branches of Natural Science as it may be practicable from time to time to introduce into the School teaching. The classification of the School, and the System adopted, secure all the advantages of emulation and honourable rivalry. THE SCHOOL OF SCIENCE DEPARTMENT.--Familiar Lectures are given occasionally during the Winter Months on Electricity, Galvanism, Magnetism, Chemistry, Telegraphy and Printing. ELECTRICITY.--Is shown and explained by the use of a large Plate Glass Electrifying Machine, next in size smaller than the one at the Royal Polytechnic, with all the apparatus required. CHEMISTRY.--The Elucidation of Principles and the explanation of Chemical Phenomena are made as clear and concise as possible, by many experiments. MAGNETISM.--This is so very instructive a branch of Science that many experiments are well understood by the Pupils, both in the use of the Natural Magnet and the Electro-Magnet. GALVANISM.--There are several Galvanic Batteries in use, so that the Boys accustomed to them can readily apply a particular sort to any experiment. TELEGRAPHY.--Communication is carried on at any distance chosen, or from one part of the house to another. PRINTING.--This is likewise thoroughly explained by the use of a Press and all the apparatus attached, including several cases of Type. Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, having full command of the School of Science Department, is enabled, without engaging the services of Professional Men (who generally make a very high charge), to give suitable Lectures without increasing the Fees as contained below. Parents will thus see that the lectures _being both amusing and instructive_ must be conducive to the _expansion of the mind_, at the same time making an _agreeable change_ in the general School routine. SCHOOL FEES: For Pupils above 10 years of age 8 Guineas per Annum. " " under 10 " " 6 " " EXTRAS.--PER ANNUM. French 1 Guinea. Painting 6 Guineas. Drawing 4 Guineas. Music and German [Transcriber's Note: missing] HOURS FROM 9 TO 12 A.M. AND FROM 1 TO 3 P.M. _Three Months' notice will be required previous to the Removal of a Pupil._ * * * * * JUST PUBLISHED. CRUCES AND CRITICISMS: an Examination of Certain Passages in Greek and Latin Texts. By WILLIAM W. MARSHALL, M.A., B.C.L., F.R.S.L., of the Inner Temple, formerly Scholar of Hertford College, Oxford. Demy 8vo., Cloth 2s. 6d., Paper Covers 2s. London: ELLIOT STOCK, 62, Paternoster Row, E.C. 1886. _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ PLUTARCH'S LIVES OF THE GRACCHI, translated from the text of Sintenis, with Introduction, Marginal Analysis, and Appendices. By WILLIAM W. MARSHALL, B.A., of the Inner Temple, late Scholar of Hertford College, Oxford. Crown 8vo., paper covers, 1s. 6d., or cloth, 2s. Oxford, JAMES THORNTON. 1881. "Mr. MARSHALL has succeeded in cutting out of Plutarch a very neat piece of biography and presenting it in a pleasant English dress, with a careful introduction and a few useful Appendices. The English is the editor's, and is very agreeable reading. The Introduction is a clever account of Plutarch, with a critical notice of his work, his merits, and his inaccuracies, together with a summary sketch of the affairs of Rome when the Gracchi came into notice. The student of Roman history will be glad of this small, but carefully edited, account of the two brethren."--_School Guardian._ THE LATIN PRAYER BOOK OF CHARLES II.; or, an Account of the "Liturgia" of Dean Durel, together with a Reprint and Translation of the Catechism therein contained, with Collations, Annotations, and Appendices, by the late Rev. CHARLES MARSHALL, M.A., Rector of Harpurhey; and WILLIAM W. MARSHALL, B.A. Demy 8vo. Cloth. 1882. A few remaining copies may be obtained from THOMAS FARGIE, 21, St. Ann's Square, Manchester. Price, 7s. 6d. The late Very Rev. J.S. HOWSON, D.D., Dean of Chester, writes (July 9, 1883):-- "I have much pleasure in stating that I regard the work of Mr. MARSHALL and his son upon the Latin Prayer Book of Charles II. as a publication of great importance. The volume has been of much use to me personally; and I believe its value will be felt by all who study it candidly and carefully." "A liturgical, historical, and theological work of great value, creditable alike to the care, industry, and scholarly attainments of the editors. No clergyman should engage in liturgical controversy without consulting its pages."--_Church Advocate_. Favourably reviewed also by _The British Quarterly Review_, _Literary World_, _Churchman_, _Record_, _Clergyman's Magazine_, _Rock_, _Manchester Guardian_, _Liverpool Daily Courier_, _Chorley Guardian_, _Liverpool Albion_, &c., &c. * * * * * H.M. STICKLAND, BOOKSELLER, STATIONER, PRINTER BOOKBINDER, &c., 43, HIGH STREET, GUERNSEY. Bookseller and Stationer by appointment to Elizabeth College and the Ladies' College. PHOTOGRAPHIC VIEWS (IN ALL SIZES) OF THE CHANNEL ISLANDS. DEPOT OF THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE CIRCULATING LIBRARY. * * * * * STICKLAND & Co., _(ESTABLISHED 1840),_ WINE AND SPIRIT IMPORTERS GRANGE, GUERNSEY. SOLE AGENTS FOR MESSRS. THOS. SALT & Co.'s EAST INDIA AND BURTON ALES. GUINNESS & Co.'s DUBLIN STOUT _Wines exported with the greatest care, in parcels of not less than three dozen._ * * * * * THE BERESFORD LIBRARY JERSEY. This Library was established in 1848, and it now contains upwards of 10,000 volumes. An examination of the contents of the Catalogue will go far to shew that it may be compared favourably with any Provincial Circulating Library in the Kingdom. The price of the Catalogue (300 pages) is Sixpence. C. LE FEUVRE, BERESFORD STREET _JERSEY._ _December, 1885._ * * * * * Nouvelle Chronique de Jersey (ESTABLISHED 1855), PUBLISHED WEDNESDAYS AND SATURDAYS 8s. PER ANNUM, OR BY POST 12s. 6d., Circulates throughout Jersey, and is well known in the United Kingdom, Canada, the United States, and the Colonies. The importance of this journal as an advertising medium is unquestionable. HUELIN & LE FEUVRE, Proprietors. OFFICE: 11, ROYAL SQUARE, JERSEY. P.S.--At this office may be had also the popular works, entitled "Le Souvenir du Centenaire de la Bataille de Jersey," and the "Guide Historique et Descriptif de l'Ile," by J. LE BAS. * * * * * R. HARTWELL'S PIANOFORTE, HARMONIUM AND Music Warehouse, 16, SMITH STREET, GUERNSEY. (Established 1830). PIANOFORTES SOLD ON THE THREE YEARS' SYSTEM OF PURCHASE. AGENT FOR HIGH-CLASS ENGLISH AND FOREIGN PIANOFORTES. Messrs. JOHN BROADWOOD & SONS' Pianofortes. COLLARD & COLLARD'S New Metal-framed Pianofortes. Messrs. J. & P. SCHIEDMAYER'S Iron-framed Pianofortes. _SOLE LOCAL AGENCY FOR_ GEORGE ROGERS & SONS' IRON-FRAMED PIANOFORTES, FITTED WITH BEST PARIS MADE FRENCH ACTIONS. Harmoniums in walnut wood cases from £7 7s. TRAYSER'S powerful toned Harmoniums, of superior construction, suitable for use in Chapels. Price £38. OLD AND CHOICE VIOLINS KEPT IN STOCK. GUITARS, FLUTES, DRUMS, BANJOS AND OTHER INSTRUMENTS ON SALE. * * * * * Masonry and Ashlar Work. [Illustration] JAMES LE PAGE, GENERAL CONTRACTOR FOR MASONRY, ASHLAR AND BRICK WORK, Rose Cottage, Ozouëts, GUERNSEY. _Best Tested Portland Cement, Patent Drain Pipes, &c., &c._ All kinds of Granite and other Monumental and Tomb Work executed. LETTER CUTTING, &c., BY SKILLED WORKMEN, AT MODERATE CHARGES. Important to Farmers and Livery Stable Proprietors. STAFFORDSHIRE _STABLE PAVING BRICKS_ MOST SUITABLE FOR CATTLE, &c. These bricks are made expressly for Stables, so as to allow free and perfect drainage. SPECIMENS ON APPLICATION TO J. LE PAGE, CONTRACTOR, Ozouëts. * * * * * When it is considered that the Liver is one of the most important organs in eliminating from the system the vitiated matter which accumulates in unhealthy persons, the value of CUMBER'S PODOPHYLLIN AND _COLOCYNTH PILLS_ WILL AT ONCE BE MANIFEST. PODOPHYLLIN is an American remedy of comparatively recent introduction, but which has rapidly made its way to the foremost place in the treatment of Liver Complaints. COLOCYNTH, on the other hand, has according to Orfila, a specific stimulant influence over the large intestines. The combination of these two drugs forms a Valuable Medicine in the treatment of complaints arising from Disorders of the Liver and Bowels, such as: Furred Tongue, Disagreeable Taste in the Mouth, Headache, Giddiness, General Lassitude, Pains in the Back--especially under the shoulder blade--and irregular action of the bowels and other excretory organs. Moreover these Medicines are made up into very small sized pills, which are covered with a tasteless pearly white film, and they will be found a most useful family medicine for both sexes. SOLD IN BOXES AT 6d. AND 1s., BY H. CUMBER, JUN., 4, FOUNTAIN STREET GUERNSEY. * * * * * GUILLE-ALLÈS LIBRARY SERIES. EDITED BY J. LINWOOD PITTS. _RECENTLY PUBLISHED_. THE PATOIS POEMS OF THE CHANNEL ISLANDS (First Series), the Norman-French Text, with Parallel English Translation, Historical Introduction and Notes. Demy 8vo. In paper covers, or cloth gilt. THE PATOIS POEMS OF THE CHANNEL ISLANDS (Second Series), the Norman-French Text, with Parallel English Translation, Philological Introduction and Historic Notes. Demy 8vo. In paper covers, or cloth gilt. THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT, AND THE PARABLE OF THE SOWER, translated into the Franco-Norman Dialect of Guernsey, from the French of LE MAISTRE DE SACY, by GEORGE MÉTIVIER; to which is added a Sark version of the Parable of the Sower; with Parallel French and English Versions. Demy 16mo. Cloth gilt. WITCHCRAFT AND DEVIL LORE IN THE CHANNEL ISLANDS, Transcripts and Translations of the Depositions and Confessions made in the most celebrated of the local Trials for Witchcraft, as preserved in the Official Records of the Guernsey Royal Court, with Historical Introduction. Demy 8vo. In paper covers. _IN PREPARATION._ THE PRÉCEPTE D'ASSISE OF THE ISLAND OF GUERNSEY: comprising the ancient Norman-French Text, edited with Parallel English Translation, Historical Introduction, Analysis, Glossary and Notes; engravings of Seals, Signatures, &c. CHOICE EXCERPTS FROM THE ROMAN DE ROU, by ROBERT WACE, of Jersey, the famous Norman Trouvère and Chronicler, who flourished in the Twelfth Century; with Parallel English Translation and Historic Notes. THE DESCENT OF THE SARAGOUSAIS.--A reprint of the old Norman Ballad--including the rare additional verses--with English Translation and Historic Notes. 
17209	----	[Transcriber's Note: Spelling and punctuation are as in the original text, except for clear typographic errors. These are noted at the end of the e-text, along with problems in Greek transcription. Characters that could not be represented in the latin-1 character set are shown as: [oe] oe ligature [e,] "e caudata": equivalent to æ or ae [~u] [~e] vowel with circumflex (also ã and õ) = following m or n Greek has been transliterated and shown between +marks+.] * * * * * A Treatise of Witchcraft. Wherein sundry Propositions are laid downe, plainely discouering the wickednesse of that damnable Art, with diuerse other speciall points annexed, not impertinent to the same, such as ought diligently of euery Christian to be considered. _With a true Narration of the Witch-crafts_ which _Mary Smith_, wife of _Henry Smith_ Glouer, did practise: Of her contract vocally made between the Deuill and her, in solemne termes, by whose meanes she hurt sundry persons whom she enuied: Which is confirmed by her owne confession, and also from the publique Records of the Examination of diuerse vpon their oathes: And _lastly, of her death and execution, for the same;_ _which was on the twelfth day of Ianuarie_ _last past_. By ALEXANDER ROBERTS B.D. and Preacher of Gods Word at _Kings-Linne_ in _Norffolke_. EXOD. 22. 18. _Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to liue._ Impium est a nos illis esse Remissos, quos c[oe]lestis Pietas, Non Patitur impunitos: Alarus Rex apud Cassiodorum. _LONDON_, Printed by N.O. for SAMVEL MAN, and are to be sold at his Shop in Pauls Church-yard at the signe of the Ball. 1616. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ¶ To the right Worshipful Maister _Iohn Atkin Maior, the Recorder_ and Aldermen, and to the Common Counsaile, Burgesses and Inhabitants of _Kings Linne in Norffolke_, Grace and Peace. _Right Worshipfull_: In these last dayes, and perillous times, among the rest of those dreadfull euills, which are fore-told should abound[a] in them, a close & disguised contempt of religion may be iustly accounted as chiefe, which causeth and bringeth vpon men all disastrous effects, when although it be shadowed with a beautifull Maske of holines, faire tongued: yet false-harted,[b] _professing they know God, but in works deny him_. And among these there be two especiall sorts; the one, who entertaining a stubborne, and curious rash boldnes, striue by the iudgem[~e]t of reason, to search ouer-deeply into the knowledge of those things which are farre aboue the reach of any humane capacitie. And so making shipwracke in this deep and vnfoundable Sea, ouerwhelme themselues in the gulfe thereof. The other kind is more sottish, dull, and of a slow wit, and therefore ouer-credulous, beleeuing euerie thing, especially when they be carried by the violent tempest of their desires, and other vngouerned affections; and among these the diuell vsually spreadeth his netts, as assured of a prey, wayting closely if hee can espie any, who either grow discontented and desperate, through want and pouerty, or be exasperated with a wrathfull and vnruly passion of reuenge, or transported by vnsatiable loue to obtaine some thing they desire; and these hee taking aduantage, assaulteth with golden and glorious promises, to performe vnto them the wishes of their owne hearts; the drift whereof is (hee being as at the first incased in a subtile Serpents skinne) onely to enthrall and invassall them slaues to himselfe. The first of these mentioned, are slie and masked Atheists, who ouer-shadow their secret impiety, loose and dissolute behauiour with some outward conformitie and shew of religion, snatching (as they thinke) a sufficient warrantize thereof from those disorders they obserue among men, and therfore passe vncensured, hauing a ciuill, but dissembled carriage. The second be Sorcerers, Wisards, Witches, and the rest of that ranke and kindred: no small multitude swarming now in the world, yet supposed of many, rather worthy pitty then punishment, as deluded by fantasies, and mis-led, not effecting those harmes wherewith they bee charged, or themselues acknowledge. But considering they be ioyned and linked together with Satan in a league (the common and professed enemy of mankinde) and by his helpe performe many subtile mischieuous actions, and hurtfull designes, it is strange that from so great a smoake arising, they neither descrie nor feare some fire. And therefore, in respect of these, I haue at your appointment and request (for whom I am most willing to bestow my best labours and euer shall be) penned this small Treatise, occasioned by the detection of a late witch among you, whose irreligious care, and vnwearied industry, is not to be defrauded of deserued commendation, and by mature deliberation, and descreete search, found out her irreligious and impious demeanour, and also discouered sundry her vnnaturall and inhumane mischiefes done to others, whereof being conuicted, she was accordingly sentenced, and did vndergoe the penalty iustly appointed, and due by Law vnto malefactors of that kinde. After all which, you kindled with a holy zeale of the aduauncement of Gods glorie, and giuing satisfaction to euery one howsoeuer affected, intermitted no meanes, vsing therein the labour of your carefull Ministers (willingly offering themselues in this holy seruice) whereby she might be broght (as one conuerted in the last houre) to the sight & acknowledgement of her heinous sins in generall, & particularly of that of witchcraft, confessing the same, & by true repentance, and embracing of the tender mercies of God in Christ Iesus saue her soule (who refuseth no true and vnfained conuert at any time.) And hee gratiously blessing these religious endeuors of yours, vouchsafed to second the same with a happy and wished for euent, which (as I hope) shall appeare manifestly in the following Treatise vnto all those who are not fondly, & without cause, too much wedded to their owne conceits: And thus, desiring GOD most humbly to confirme and strengthen you in his truth, which euer you haue loued, and is your due praise, and shall be at the last an honour vnto you: I rest _Your Worships in all Christian duty_ _to be commaunded,_ A. ROBERTS. [Footnote a: _2 Timoth. 3. 5._] [Footnote b: _Titus 1. 16._] To the Reader. Christian Reader, I haue vpon occasion penned this short discourse, and that of such a subject wherewith not being well acquainted, am enforced to craue some direction from those, whose names you shall finde remembred in the same: (that I be not vnthankefull vnto those from whom I receiue instruction) and haue in former time, and latter dayes, taken paines in searching out, both the speculatiue, and practique parts of this damnable Art of Witchcraft, a dangerous and seducing inuention of Sathan, who from the Arcenals, and Magisins store-houses of his ancient and mischieuous furniture, hath not spared to affoord all helpe, and the best Engines for the subuerting of soules, pliable to his allurements: and to this end, beside a plaine narration of fact in this case committed and confessed, (least the Treatise should be too bare and naked) I haue added thereunto a few Propositions, agreeing to such a subiect matter, manifesting some speciall poynts not altogether impertinent in my opinion, nor vnworthy of due consideration: I know mine owne wants, and do as willingly acknowledge them: One more experienced, and of greater leasure, and better health, had beene fitter for the opening and discouering of so deepe a mystery, and hidden secret of Iniquity, as this is; and haply hereafter may be willing to take that taske in hand: yet herein thou shalt finde something not vsuall: A manifest contract made with the Diuell, and by the solemne tearmes of a league, which is the ground of all the pernitious actions proceeding from those sorts of people, who are, haue beene, and shall be practioners in that cursed and hellish Art. And yet no more then she, that Witch of whom in this relation we do speake, hath of her owne accord, and voluntarily acknowledged after conference had with me, and sundry learned and reuerend Diuines, who both prayed for her conuersion, carefully instructed her in the way to saluation, and hopefully rescued her from the Diuell, (to whom she was deuoted, and by him seduced) and regained her to God, from whom she was departed by Apostacie. And in this so Christian and holy action were the continuall paines of { Thomas Howes. { Thomas Hares. Maister { Iohn Man. { William Leedes. { Robert Burward. { William Armitage. _And of these in the day of execution (which she in no wise would condiscend vnto should be deferred, though offered repriuall vpon hope that more might haue beene acknowledged) being very distemperate, neuerthelesse some accompanied her to the place, and were both eye and eare-witnesses of her behauiour there, seeing and hearing how she did then particularly confesse her confederacy with the Diuell, cursing, banning, and enuy towards her neighbours, and hurts done to then, expressing euery one by name, so many as be in the following discourse, nominated, and how she craued mercy of God, and pardon for her offences, with other more specialties afterward expressed. And thus I end, taking my leaue, and commending thee to the gracious guidance and preseruation of our good God in our blessed Sauiour Christ Iesus._ Thine euer in the Lord, A. ROBERTS. * * * * * A TREATISE OF THE CONFESSION AND EXECVTION OF _MARY SMITH, CONVICTED OF WITCHCRAFT_, and condemned for the same: of her contract vocally & in solemne tearmes made with the Diuell; by whose meanes she hurt sundry persons whom she enuied, with some necessary Propositions added thereunto, discouering the wickednesse of that damnable Art, and diuers other speciall poynts, not impertinent vnto the same, such as ought diligently of euery Christian to bee considered. There is some diuersitie of iudgement among the learned, who should be the first Author and Inuenter of Magicall and curious Arts. The most generall occurrence of opinion is, that they fetch their pedigree from the [a]_Persians_, who searching more deeply into the secrets of Nature then others, and not contented to bound themselues within the limits thereof, fell foule of the Diuell, and were insnared in his nets. [Footnote a: _Augustinus de diuinatione Dæmonum: & de Ciuitate Dei. lib. 7. cap. 35. Plinius historia naturalis lib. 30. cap. 1._] And among these, the publisher vnto the world was _Zoroaster_, who so soone as he by birth[b] entred the world, contrary to the vsuall condition of other men, laughed (whereas the beginning of our life is a sob, the end a sigh) and this was ominous to himselfe, no warrantise for the enioying of the pleasures of this life, ouercome in battell by _Ninus_[c] King of the _Assirians_, and ending his dayes by the stroake of a thunder-bolt, and could not, though a famous Sorcerer, either fore-see, or preuent his owne destinie. And because he writ many bookes of this damnable Art, and left them to posterity, may well be accounted a chiefe maister of the same. But the Diuell[d] must haue the precedencie, whose schollers both he and the rest were, who followed treading in his steps. For he taught them South-saying, Auguration, Necromancie, and the rest, meere delusions, aiming therein at no other marke, then to with draw men from the true worshipping of God. And all these pernitious practises are fast tied together by the tailes, though their faces looke sundry wayes; and therefore the Professors thereof are stiled by sundry names, as Magitians, Necromancers, Inchanters, Wisards, Hagges, Fortune-tellers, Diuiners, Witches, Cunning Men, and Women, &c. Whose Art is such a hidden mystery of[e] wickednesse, and so vnsearchable a depth of Sathan, that neither the secrets of the one can be discouered, nor the bottome of the other further sounded, then either the practisers thereof themselues by their owne voluntary confessions made, or procured by order of Iustice (according to the manner of that Countrey where they be questioned) haue acknowledged, or is manifested by the sundry mischiefes done of them vnto others, proued by impartiall testimonies vpon oath, and by vehement presumptions confirmed, or else communicated vnto vs in the learned Treatises, and discourses of ancient and late Writers gathered from the same grounds. And[f] although this Hellish Art be not now so frequent as heretofore, since the Pagans haue beene conuerted vnto Christianity, and the thick fogges of Popery ouer-mantling the bright shining beames of the Gospel of _Iesus Christ_ (who came to dissolue the workes of the Diuell _.1. Ioh. 3. 8._) and were by the sincere and powerfull preaching therof dispersed; yet considering these bee the last times, dayes euill & dangerous, fore-told that should come, _2. Tim. 3. 1._ in which iniquity must abound, _Mat. 24. 12._ and as a raging deluge ouer-runne all, so that Faith shall scarce be found vpon earth, _Luk. 18. 8._ and the Diuell loosed from his thousand yeares imprisonment, [g]_Reuel. 20. 3._ enraged with great wrath walketh about, and seeketh whom he may deuoure _.1. Pet. 5. 8_. Because he knoweth hee hath but a short time, _Reu. 12. 12._ Before I enter into the particularity of the narration intended, it shall be materiall to set downe some generall propositions, as a handfull of gleanings gathered in the plentifull haruest of such learned men, who haue written of this argument, whereby the erronious may be recalled, the weake strengthened, the ignorant informed, and such as iudge aright already, confirmed: and among many other these as chiefe, all which you shall see exemplified in the following Discourse. [Footnote b: _Augustinus de Ciuitate Dei. lib. 21. cap. 14._] [Footnote c: _Iustinus in Epitome Trogi Pompeij. lib. 1._] [Footnote d: _Lactantius de origine erroris. lib. 2. cap. 17_. And citeth the testimony of _Sibilla Erithræa_ for proofe hereof. _Gratianus Decretorum part. 2. causa 26 quæst. 2. Canone sine saluatore, & inuentas esse has artes_ +pros ap..ên eleeinôn anthrôpôn tôn rhadiôs hupokleptomenôn eis tauta hupo tou diabolou.+ _affirmat Cedrenus in historiæ compendio._] [Footnote e: _Probationes ex quibus legitim[~u] est Iudicia fieri, tres necessariæ planè dici & indubitatæ possunt 1ª veritas notorij & permanentia facti. 2ª confessio voluntaria eius qui reus factus est, atque peractus. 3ª certorum testium firmorumque testimonium: his & 4ª addi potest violentæ præsumptiones de Rodinus de D[e,]monomania lib. 4. cap. 2.3.4._] [Footnote f: The Oracles of the Pagans in all places of the world, wh[~e] CHRIST was borne, were silenced, and the Diuell became mute: so that _Augustus C[e,]sar_ demanding of _Apollo_ by his messengers, sent to _Delphos_, had this answer returned, +pais hebraios keletai+ &c. in sence thus much, _An Hebrue Childe commandeth me to leaue this place, and returne againe to hell._ From hence therefore you must depart from our Altars, without resolution of any questions propounded. _Eusebius de præparatione Euangelica, lib. 5. cap. 8. Theodoretus de Græcorum affectionum curatione qui est de oraculis +meta tên tou sôtêros hêmôn epiphaneian apedrasan hoi tênde tên exapatên tois anthrôpois prospherontes+, Vide & Suidam in Augusto, & Athanasium de incarnatione verbi._] [Footnote g: _De hac ligatione & solutione Diaboli plenissimè August. de Ciuitate Dei, lib. 20 cap. 8._] _The first Proposition._ It is a _Quære_, though needlesse, whether there be any Witches: for they[a] haue some _Proctors_ who plead a nullitie in this case, perswade themselues, and would induce others to be of the same minde, that there be no Witches at all: but a sort of melancholique, aged, and ignorant Women, deluded in their imagination; and acknowledge such things to be effected by them, which are vnpossible, vnlikely, and they neuer did; and therefore Magistrates who inflict any punishment vpon them, be vnmercifull and cruell Butchers. Yet by the way, and their good leaue, who take vpon them this Apology, all who are conuented vpon these vnlawfull action, are not strucken in yeares; but some euen in the flower of their youth be nuzled vp in the same, and convicted to be practisers thereof; neither be they ouerflowed with a blacke melancholique humor, dazeling the phantasie, but haue their vnderstandings cleere, and wits as quicke as other: Neither yet be they all women, though for the most part that sexe be inclinable thereunto: (as shall afterward be shewed, and the causes thereof) but men also on whose behalfe no exception can be laid, why any should demurre either of their offence or punishment for the same. Wherefore for this point, and confirmation of the affirmatiue, wee haue sundry pregnant and euident proofes. [Footnote a: _Wierus de magor[~u] infamium p[oe]nis lib 6. cap. 17.18 19 20 21 22 23 24 &. 27. & de Lamijs lib 3. cap 7. & de lamiarum impotentia._ But this position commeth from another as dangerous, euen Infidelity denying that there be any Diuel, but in opinion; which was the doctrine of _Aristotle_, and the Peripatetique Philpsophers. _Pomponatius de incarnationibus Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum_] First testimonies Diuine and Humane: Diuine of _God_ himselfe in his word,[b] left for our instruction in all dogmaticall truth, reproofe and confutation of falshood in opinions, correction for the reforming of misdemeaners in conuersation, doctrine for the guidance of euery estate Politicall, Ecclesiasticall, Oeconomicall. _2. Timoth. 3. 16._ Therefore expressely, _Thou shalt not suffer a Witch, to liue, Exod. 22. 18._[c] but to bee executed in the same day wherein she is conuicted, and this was a custome obserued by the ancient Fathers. And _Deuteronomy 18. 10.11._ there is a blacke Bill set downe[d], and registred of sundry kinds of these slaues of Sathan, all condemned, and God addeth in the same place the reasons of this his seuere and sharpe iudgement against them. First, because they are an abhomination vnto him. Secondly, he determineth vtterly to destroy all such, and giueth his people the Israelites an example thereof in the Canaanites, whom their Land spewed out. Thirdly, for that he requireth all who belong vnto him, to be pure, vndefiled and holy, not stained with impieties, for they are bound vnto him by couenant in obedience. Fourthly such were the Heathen, strangers from God, blinded in their dark vnderstanding, without sauing knowledge, with whom the Israelites, a chosen and peculiar nation, enioying his lawes and statutes, must haue no familiarity. Further, the woman of _Endor_ acknowledgeth herselfe to be one of the rank. _1. Sam. 28. 9_. And _Iesabel_, mother of _Iehoram_, is in plaine tearmes stiled a Witch. _2. King. 9. 22._ who is [e]supposed to haue brought this Art, and the Professors thereof into _Samaria_, which there continued for the space of sixe hundred yeares. Insomuch that it was rife in common speech, when any would reproach another, to doe the same in this forme; _Thou art a Samaritan, and hast a Diuell_ (a familiar spirit) which the malicious Iewes, not abiding his heauenly and gracious doctrine, obiected to Christ Iesus our blessed Sauiour, _Ioh. 8. 48_. The holy Apostle reprouing the _Galathians_ for their sudden Apostasie and back-sliding from the Gospell so powerfully preached vnto them and with so great euidence of the spirit, as though Christ had bin crucified before their eyes, doth it in no other termes than these, _Who hath bewitched you?_ _Gal. 3. 1_. And afterward, _Cap. 5. 20._ marshalleth Witch-craft among the workes of the flesh: In both which places the names are taken from the seducements and illusions of Inchanters, who astonish the mindes, and deceiue the senses of men, and all that by vertue of a contract passed betwene them and the Diuell. Other like proofes may be added to these alledged, _Leuit. 20. 6._ _Micah 5. 12._ _Nahum 3. 4_. Now then when God affirmeth there be such, whose words are truth, shall man dare once to open his mouth, and contradict the most righteous? [Footnote b: +Didaskalia+ +elenchos+ +epanorthôsis+ +paideia+.] [Footnote c: _Philo in libro de legibus specialibus._] [Footnote d: _Vide Paulum Phagium in annotationibus, & Chaldaicam Paraphrasin in cap. 18. & 19. Leuitici._] [Footnote e: _Bodinus in confutatione opinionum Wieri._] Concerning humane witnesses, they be almost infinite; and therefore it shall be sufficient to produce some few, choyce, and selected: [f] The second Councell of _Constantinople_ held and gathered together in the Imperiall palace, of two hundred seuen and twenty learned and reuerent Bishops, nameth sundry sorts of such Sorcerers, and censureth their actions to be the damned practises of the Pagans, and decreeth all the Agents therein excommunicated from the Church and society of Christian people, adding the motiue reason of this their determined sentence, from the Apostle, _2. Cor. 6. 14_. For righteousnesse hath no fellowship with vnrighteousnesse, neither is there communion of light with darknesse, nor concord with Christ and Belial, nor the beleeuer can haue part with an Infidell. And [g]_Chrysostome_ sharply reproueth all such, and those who aduise with them vpon any occasion, confuting the reasons which they take to be sufficient warantise of their doings. As among the rest they will pretend, Shee was a Christian woman who doth thus charme or inchant; and taketh no other but the name of God in her mouth, vseth the words of sacred Scripture. To this that holy Father replieth, Therefore she is the more to be hated, because shee hath abused and taken in vaine that great and glorious name, and professing herselfe a Christian, yet practiseth the [h]damnable Arts of miscreant and vnbeleeuing Heathen. For the Diuels could speake the name of God, and neuerthelesse were still Diuels; and when they said vnto Christ, they knew who he was, the holy one of God, &c. _Mar. 1. 24.25._ their mouthes were stopped, he would no such witnesse, that wee should learne, not to beleeue them when they say the truth: for this is but a bait, that wee might afterward follow their lies. There is much mention made of these, both in the Ciuill and [i]Canon Lawes, and diuersitie of punishment alotted out for them; so that none can doubt but that there hath beene, and are such. I might remember vnto you the authority of _Clemens Romanus_ in his Recognitions, and those Constitutions which are fathered vpon the Apostles; but their credit is not so great, that they may without exception be impannelled vpon this Iury, for they haue long since been chalenged of [k]insufficiencie. [Footnote f: _Cap 61. congregata est hac synodus sib Iustiniano qui vocatus est +rhinotmêtês+, in qua erant Episcopi, 227. Balsamon in suis ad eum Commentarijs, & vocata est synodus in Trullo erat autem +ho trullos+ Secretarium palatij quia in eo fuit celebrata, eam aut[~e] +pentekên+ vocat Balsamon quasi Quintisextã dicas quia quod quinte & sexta synodis deerat (septem enim recipiunt Græci) hæc expleuit, Nomenclator Græcorum dictionum quæ apud Harmenopulum occurrunt in sui iuris Promptuario._] [Footnote g: This testimony of _Chrysostome_ is cited by _Balsamon_, in his exposition vpon that Chapter of the Councell before alleaged, to which may be added other of the same holy Bishop in his 9 _Homily_ vpon the Epistle to the _Colossians_, & his 6 Sermon against the _Iewes_.] [Footnote h: _Superstitio tãto peior est quãto plura miscentur bona, quoniã vnde debeat honorari Deus honoratur Diabolus. _Ioh. Gerson_ in Trilogio Astrologiæ Theologisatæ propositione 21._] [Footnote i: _Vide Phothi[~u] Patriarchã Constantinopolitan[~u] in nono Canone titulo 13. cap. 19_] [Footnote k: _Ierome_ in his Apology against _Ruffinus._ and _Eusebius_ alloweth but one only Epistle of his, _Histor. Ecclesiast. 2. cap. 16_. _Gratianus distinct. 15._ _Epiphanius contra Audianos._] Among the Gentiles, when these so qualitied persons did swarme, and were accounted of high esteeme, there be reckoned vp whole troopes of this blacke guard of the Diuell; As [l]_Circe_ whom _Homer_ reporteth to haue turned _Vlysses_ Companions into Wolues, Lyons, Swine, &c. by her Inchantments, insauaging and making them beast-like and furious. _Medea_[m] famous in this kinde, for she murthered by Witch-craft _Glauca_ in the day of her marriage, who enioyed _Iason_ her loue. And[n] the Mortars of these two, wherein they stamped their Magicall drugges, were for a long time kept in a certaine mountaine, and shewed as strange monuments to those who desired a sight of them. For[o] the Diuel furnisheth such with powders, oyntments, hearbes, and like receipts, whereby they procure sicknesse, death, health, or worke other supernaturall effects. Of the same profession were [p]_Simotha_, [q]_Erictho_, [r]_Canidia_, and infinite others beside, whose damnable memory deserueth to be buried in euerlasting obliuion. [Footnote l: _Homer. odissea 10, +pharmakois alliôse+ Eustathius._] [Footnote m: _Euripides in Medea. Ouidius Metamorph. lib. 7. Pindarus Pythonum Idillio 4. Apollonius Argonauticorum lib. 4º._] [Footnote n: _Scholiastes Theocriti Idil 2_ +en tô selênaiô orei deiknuousi tous mêdeias kai Kirkês hormous en hois ekopten ta phrarmaka+.] [Footnote o: _Remigius demonolatriæ lib. 1. cap 2._] [Footnote p: _Theocritus in_ +pharmakeutria+ _Idil. 2._] [Footnote q: _Lucan. Pharsalibus lib. 6._] [Footnote r: _Horatius_ +Erodô+ _lib. 5._] But because the reports of these may seeme to carry small credit, for that they come from Poets, who are stained with the note of licentious [s]faining, and so put off as vaine fictions; yet seeing they deliuer nothing herein but that which was well knowne and vsuall in those times wherein they liued, they are not slightly, and vpon an imagined conceit, to be reiected: for they affirme no more then is manifest in the records of most approued Histories, whose essence is and must be [t]truth, [u]as straightnesse of a rule, or else deserue not that title. In which wee reade of [x]_Martiana_, [y]_Locusta_, [z]_Martha_, [aa]_Pamphilia_, [bb]_Aruna_, _&c._ And not to insist vpon particulars, there bee infinite numbers ouerflowing euen in these our[cc] dayes, since the sinceritie of Christian Profession hath decreased, and beene in a sort ecclipsed in the hearts of men: for the period of the continuance thereof (after it be once imbraced) in his first integrity, either for zeale of affection, or strictnesse of discipline, hath beene by some learned Diuines[dd] obserued, to bee confined within the compass of twenty yeares; and then afterward by degrees, the one waxed cold, and the other dissolute: which being so, it is not to be maruelled though the Diuell now begin to shew himselfe in these his instruments, as heretofore, though he cannot in the same measure, in respect of those sparkes of light which yet shine amongst vs. But of this so much now, because I shall haue afterward occasion further to enlarge this poynt. [Footnote s: _Pictoribus atque Poetis quidlibet audiendi semper fuit æqua potestas._] [Footnote t: +kathaper empsuchou sômatos tôn spheôn exairetheisôn akreionas to holon: houtôs ex historias ean arês tên alêtheian, to kataloipomenon autês, anateles gignetai diêgêma+ _Polib. historiarum lib. 12._] [Footnote u: _Timaus_ +Kaionos idiotês eutheia+.] [Footnote x: _Tacitus Annal. lib. 2._] [Footnote y: _Idem annal. lib. 12 & 13 & Suetonius in Claudio c. 33._] [Footnote z: _Plutarchus in Mario._] [Footnote aa: _Apuleius._] [Footnote bb: _Munsterus Cosmographiæ lib. 2._] [Footnote cc: _Remigius_, a iudge in these cases reporteth of 900 executed in Lorayne for this offence of Witch-craft in the time of his gouernement.] [Footnote dd: _Lutherus in Genesin._] Againe, the policie of all States[ee] haue prouided for the rooting out of these poysonfull Weedes, and cutting of these rotten and infected members; and therefore infallibly prouing their existence and being: for all[ff] penall lawes looke to matters of fact and are made to punish for the present, and preuent in future, some wicked actions already committed. And therefore _Solon_ the Athenian making statutes for the setling of that Common-wealth, when a defect was found, that he omitted to prouide a cautelous restraint, and appoint[gg] answerable punishm[~e]t for such who had killed their parents, answered, He neuer suspected there were or would be any such. Wherefore to confirme the position set downe, God doth not threaten to cast away his people for murther, incest, tyranny, &c. But Sorcery, _Leuit. 20. 6_. And _Samuel_ willing to shew _Saul_ the grieuousnesse of his disobedience, compareth it to witch-craft, _1. Sam. 15. 23_. The Holy Ghost also manifesting how highly God was displeased with _Manasses_, maketh this the reason, because hee gaue himselfe to Witch-craft, and to Charming, and to Sorcery, and vsed them who had familiar spirits, and did much euill in the sight of the Lord to anger him, _2. Chro. 33. 6_. And for this offence were the ten tribes of Israell led into captiuitie, _2. King. 17. 17._ [hh]The twelue Tables of the Romans (the ancientest law they haue) by a solemne Embassage (sent for that purpose) obtained from _Athens_, & accounted as a Library of knowledge, do both make mention of such malefactors, & decree a penaltie to be inflicted vpon them. [ii]_Constantius_ and _Constantinus_ thinke them worthy of some vnusuall death, as enemies of mankinde, strangers from nature: [kk]and _Iulius Paulus_ distinguishing the punishment according to the different qualitie of the offenders, pronounceth out of the then receiued opinions, that the better sort found guilty, were to dye (not determining the manner) those of meaner condition either to bee crucified, or deuoured of wilde beasts. [Footnote ee: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum_, calleth this reason a most strong & conuincing argument.] [Footnote ff: _Ex malis moribus bonæ nascuntur leges._] [Footnote gg: _Diogenes Laertius lib. 1. de vitis Philosophorum in Solone. Cicero in Oratione pro Roscio Amerino._] [Footnote hh: Of these 12. Tables _Liuie_ in the 3 booke of his first Decad. _Dionysius Halicarnasseus_ 10 Booke of his History, & _Iohannes Rosimus_ most fully in the 6 chapter of his 8 booke of Roman antiquities. _Liuius._ _Plinius lib. 34. cap. 5._ _Cicero de legibus, lib. 2. & de orato primo_.] [Footnote ii: _Cod. lib. 9. titul. 18. lege multi magicis actibus._] [Footnote kk: _Sententiarum receptarum lib. 5. cap. 25. ad legem Corneliam de sicarijs & maleficis. Paulus Iurisconsultus._] Our ancient Saxon Kings before the [ll]Conquest, haue in their municipall Lawes apparantly demonstrated what they conceiued of these so dangerous and diuellish persons. _Alucidus_ keepeth the expresse words of God; _F[oe]minas sagas_ _ne sinite viuere_. Suffer not women Witches to liue. _Gunthrunus_ and _Canutus_ will haue them, being once apprehended (that the rest of the people might bee pure and vndefiled) sent into banishment, or if they abide in the kingdome (continuing their lewd practises) executed according to desert. So _Athelstane_, if they be conuicted to haue killed any, &c. And how the present estate standeth affected toward them, the sundry strict statutes in this case prouided, may giue any, not wedded to his owne stubbornenesse, sufficient and full satisfaction. Wherefore not to erect a Tabernacle, and dwell longer in perswading an vndeniable truth, that there bee Sorcerers and Witches, I leaue these Hellish Infidels, and proceede. [Footnote ll: _In +archaionomia+ siue de priscis Anglorum legibus Guilielmus Lambertus._] _The second Proposition._ The second Proposition: [a]Who those be, and of what quality, that are thus ensnared of the Diuell, and vndermined by his fraudes. For resolution whereof, this may suffice. Those who either maliciously reiect the Gospell offered vnto them: or receiuing and vnderstanding the same, do but coldly respect, and carelessly taste it, without making any due estimation, or hauing any reuerent regard therof. In both which is a manifest and open contempt of God. For as he purposing to honour the first comming of his Sonne into the World, cloathed in the cloud of our flesh, which he assumed then, suffered many to be really possessed of Diuels, to bee lunatique, deafe, dumbe, blinde, &c. whom he might deliuer from these torments, and so make apparant his glory, and shew by these his miracles wrought, that hee was the promised Messias, _Esay 35. 5.6_. And therfore Christ referreth those Disciples whom _Iohn_ sent vnto him (doubting in respect of that base forme which he tooke, and demanding whether it was he that should come, or another to be looked for) vnto his Doctrine and Workes; and by them to bee instructed, whereof they were then both hearers and beholders, _Math. 11. 3.4.5_. So now comming in the dew of his grace, and hauing restored the light of the Gospell, and bestowed that vpon mankinde, as an especiall and vnvaluable blessing, in his iustice giueth ouer the despisers thereof vnto the power of Sathan, whereby both others who contemne the same, might by their dreadfull example bee terrified, and the faithfull stirred vp to a respectiue thankfulnesse, for so great a mercy vouchsafed vnto them, and acknowledge their happinesse in being made partakers thereof, and by especiall fauour deliuered out of the tyranny of the Diuell: For this is one of the fearefull iudgements of God, and hidden from vs (as all are a great depth, _Psal. 36. 6._) that those who receiued not the truth that they might be saued, should haue strong delusions sent vnto them, and bee giuen ouer to belieue Sathan and his lying signes, and false wonders, _2. Thess._ 2. 10. And thus consenting vnto sinne, and his suggestions, they are depriued of the [b]helpe and assistance of God, and so disabled to resist all violent rushing temptations: for one offence, not being truely repented of, bringeth another, and at last throweth head-long downe into hell: and by this meanes man despising God his creator & redeemer, and obeying the Diuell a professed enemy, and irreconciliable aduersary, not easie to be confronted, becommeth his seruant: for of whomsoeuer any is ouercome, euen of the same is hee brought into bondage, _2. Pet. 2. 19_. And the Apostle giueth as the reason why the heathen were so sottish Idolaters, and defiled themselues with many detestable and loathsome sinnes, [c]because when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankfull, therefore God gaue them ouer to a reprobate sence, and vile affections to doe those things which were not conuenient, full of all vnrighteousnesse, _Rom 1. 24.25. &. 29_ So these being enthralled, and deuoting themselues to the Diuell by a mutuall league (either expresse or secret) he brandeth with his mark for his [d]owne, as in ancient time was an vse with Bondslaues and [e]Captiues, and these bee +ezôgrêmenoi+, taken aliue in his snare, _2. Tim. 2. 26._ and that in some part of the body, least either suspected or perceiued by vs (for hee is a cunning concealer) as vnder the eye-lids, or in the palat of the mouth, or other secret places: Wherefore some Iudges cause them, once being called into question, and accused, to be shauen all the body[f] ouer. And for the manner of impression, or branding, it is after this sort. The Diuell when hee hath once made the contract betweene himselfe and the Witch, and agreed vpon the conditions, what they shall doe, the one for the other, giueth her some scratch[g], which remaineth ful of paine & anguish vntill his return againe: at which time hee doth so benumme the same, that though it be pierced with any sharpe instrument, yet is without any sence of feeling, and will not yeeld one droppe of bloud at all: a matter knowne by iust, often, and due triall. [Footnote a: _Danæus de sortiarijs. cap. 20_] [Footnote b: _Iaquerius in flagello Hereticorum, cap. 18._] [Footnote c: _Peccatum si citius pænitendo non tergitur, iusto Iudicio omnipotens Deus obligatam peccantis mentem, etiam in culpam alteram permittit cadere, vt qui flendo & corrigendo noluit mundare quod fecit, peccatum incipiat peccato cumulare, Greg. Hom. 11. in Ezech. Augustinus lib. 83. questionum questione 97. & Aquinas 1. 2. quæst. 79. artic. 3 & quæst. 87. artic. 2._] [Footnote d: _Zanchius de operibus creationis, part. 1 lib. 4. cap. 15. Danæus de sortiarijs cap. 4. & Erastus de Lamijs._] [Footnote e: _De hoc more Alexander ab Alexandro. Dierum genialium lib. 5. cap. 18. Suetonius in Caligula, cap. 27. Cicero de officijs lib. 2. Cælius Rhodinginus Antiquarum lectionum lib. 7. cap. 31. & olim militiæ Tyrones_ +stigmatiai+ _erant & in cute signati Vegetius lib. 1. cap. 8. & 2. cap. 5. Prudentius_ +peri stephanôn+ _Hymno 10. & huius moris meminit, Ambrosius in funebri oratione pro Valentiniano._] [Footnote f: _Et insigne exemplum apud Gildemannum de Lamijs lib. 3. cap. 10. sectione 38._] [Footnote g: _Remigius in Dæmonolatria lib. 1. cap. 5._ and citeth the confession of eight seuerall persons, acknowledging both to haue receiued the marke and in what part of the body.] And for the most part, hee bringeth these his slaues and vassailes obliged to him as his owne, to some desperate, Tragicall,[h] and disastrous end; and that either by the execution of Iustice for their demerits, or by laying violent hands vpon themselues, or else God powreth vpon them some strange and extraordinary vengeance, or their Grand-maister whom they haue serued, dispatcheth them in such manner, as they become dreadfull and terrible spectacles to the beholders, whereof Histories will furnish vs with [i]varietie and plenty of examples: For the Diuell is a murthering spirit, desirous to doe mischiefe, swelling in pride, malitious in hatred, spitefull in enuy, subtill in craft; and therefore it behoueth euery one resolutely to withstand his assaults, _Ephes. 4. 27._ and cautelously to decline his subtilties, and cunning ambushments [Sidenote: +methodeiai+] from whence he inuadeth vs, _Eph. 6. 11._[k] For this aduersary against whom we fight, is an old beaten enemy, sixe thousand yeares are fully compleat since the first time hee began to assault mankinde. But if any keepe the Commandements of God, and constantly, by a liuely faith, cleaue fast vnto Christ, he shall ouercome: for our Lord is inuincible.[l] The Diuels indeed doe willingly offer themselues to be seene of those who are not gouerned by the Holy Ghost; and that either to win themselues some estimation, or to intangle and deceiue men, vailing their treacheries vnder a smiling countenance, whom they deadly hate, for if it lay in their possibilitie, they would ouerthrow and destroy heauen it selfe. Now vnable to do this, they endeuour to worke vpon a more weake subiect and matter; and therefore hee that will not bee subdued of them, must auoid all occasions whereby he may take any aduantage, and couered with the Breast-plate of Righteousnesse, and defended with the Shield of Faith, quench all his fiery Darts. _Ephes. 6. 14._ [Footnote h: _Peucerus de præcipuis diuinationum generibus titulo de Magia._] [Footnote i: _Philippus Camerarius in Historicis medicationibus part. 1. cap. 70. & 72._] [Footnote k: _Cyprianus in pro[oe]mio libri de exhortatione ad Martyrium._] [Footnote l: _Tatianus oratione contra Gentes._] _The third Proposition._ Except God do by his especial grace and ouerruling power, restraine the malice of these Witches and preserue his Children, they are permissiuely able,[a] through the helpe of the Diuell their maister, to hurt Men and Beasts, and trouble the elements, by vertue of that contract & agreement which they haue made with him. For man they endamage both in body & mind: In body, for [b]_Daneus_ reporteth of his owne knowledge, as an eye-witnesse thereof, that he hath seene the breasts of Nurces (onely touched by their hands) those sacred fountaines of humane nourishment so dried vp that they could yeeld no milke; some suddenly tormented with extreame and intolerable paine of the Cholicke, others[c] oppressed with the Palsie, Leprosie, Gout, Apoplexie, &c. And thus disabled from the performance of any action, many tortured with lingring consumptions,[d] and not a few afflicted with such diseases, which neither they themselues who wrought that euill, could afterward helpe; nor be cured thereof by the Art and diligent attendance of most skilfull Physitians. I willingly let passe other mischiefes wrought by them, of which many things are deliuered in the Canon and Ciuill Lawes, in the Schoole-men, and Diuines both ancient and moderne. [Footnote a: _Damascenus Orthodox. fidei lib. 2. cap. 4._ +exousian echei kai eschon kata tinos oikonomikôs+, _Iaquerius flagelli Hereticorum fascinariorum, cap. 25._] [Footnote b: _Vberæ matris fontes sanctissimos humani generis educatores vocat Phauorinus apud A. Gellium noct. Atticarum lib. 12. cap. 1. Aretius problematum parte 2. Loco 144. de Magia._] [Footnote c: Godlemanus de veneficis lib. 1 cap. 7.9.21.22.23.24. 25.26.&c.] [Footnote d: _Exempla omnem fidem superantia Florentinæ mulieris & vlrici cuiusdam Neucesseri refert Langius epist. Medicinalium lib. 2. Epist. 38. è cuius ventriculo lignum teres & quatuor cultri exècti sunt: eorum & formam & iustã longitudinem ponit. Lycosthenes lib. de prodigijs & ostentis quo modo huiusmodi in corporibus humanis inueniantur & qua ratione ingenerentur, aut eijciantur & an tribuenda hac maleficijs & diabolica arti Binfeldius in commentario ad titulum Codicis de maleficis & Mathematicis pag. 510._] In minde, stirring vp men to lust, to hatred, to loue, and the like[e] passions, and that by altering the inward and outward sences, either in forming some new obiect, or offering the same to the eye or eare, or stirring the humors: for there being a neere coniunction betweene the sensitiue and rationall faculties of the soule, if the one bee affected, the other (though indirectly) must of necessity be also moued. As for example, when they would prouoke any to loue or hatred, they propound an obiect vnder the shew and appearance of that which is good and beautifull, so that it may be desired and embraced: or else by representation of that which is euill & infamous, procure dislike and detestation. Neither is this any strange position, or improbable, but may bee warranted by sufficient authority; and therefore [f]_Constantius_ the Emperour doth expressely determine, all those iustly punishable who sollicite by enchantments chaste mindes to vncleannesse: And Saint [g]_Ierome_ attributeth vnto them this power, that they can enforce men to hate those things they should loue, and affect that which they ought to auoyd: and the ground hereof hath his strength from the holy Scriptures: for the Diuell is able to enflame wanton[h] lust in the heart, and therfore is named, _the Spirit of Fornication_, _Osea 4. 12._ and vncleane, _Math. 12. 43._ [Footnote e: _Gratianus in decretis, Caietanus in summula titulo de maleficio. Iaquerius in flagello fascinariorum, cap. 11. 12. Ioh. Nider in præceptorio, præcepto 1. cap. 11. Bodinus in Dæmonomania, lib. 2 cap. *_] [Footnote f: _Cod. Lib. 9. titulo 18. Lege est scientia, hanc legem sugillat. Weirus de præstigijs dæmonum lib. 3. cap. 38._] [Footnote g: _In 3. Caput prophet[e,] Nah[~u]ni, vide & Nazianzenum in +aporêtais+, siue de arcanis vel principijs non procul à fine, & eius paraphrasten Nicetam._] [Footnote h: _Cassianus Collat. 7. cap. 32._] There is a very remarkeable example mentioned by _Ierome_[i], of a maiden in _Gaza_ whom a yong man louing, and not obtaining, went to _Memphis_ in Egypt, and at the yeares end in his returne, being there instructed by a Priest of _Aesculapius_, and furnished with Magicall Coniurations, graued in a plate of brasse, strange charming words, and pictures which he buried vnder the threshold of the doore where the virgin dwelt: by which meanes she fell into a fury, pulled off the attire of her head, flung about her haire, gnashed with her teeth, and continually called vpon the name of her louer. [Footnote i: _In vita Hilarionis._] The like doth [k]_Nazianzene_ report of _Cyprian_ before his conuersion (though some thinke it [l]was not he whose learned and religions writings are extant, and for the profession of his faith and doctrine was crowned with Martyrdome) but another of that name, toward _Iustina_, whom hee lasciuiously[m] courted, and vnlawfully lusted after. It were easie for me to instance this in many, and to adde more testimonies, but my intended purpose was, to set downe onely some few propositions, whereby the iudicious reader might be stirred vp to a deeper search, and further consideration of these things: for often they driue men to a madnesse, and other such desperate passions, that they become murtherers of themselues. But this alwayes must be kept in minde, as a granted and infallible truth, [n]That whatsoeuer the Witch doth, it receiueth his force from that society which she hath with the Diuell, who serueth her turne in effecting what she purposeth, and so they worke together as [o]associates. [Footnote k: _Oratione in laud[~e] Cypriani eandem historiã refert Nicephorus Calustus lib. 5 cap. 27._] [Footnote l: _Prudentius +peri stephanôn+ de passione Cypriani, vnus erat iuvenum doctis. artibus sinistris, fraude pudititiã perstringere. & c_] [Footnote m: _Ouid. lib. 2. de art. amand. philtra nocent animis, vimq; fauoris habent. Propertius lib. 4. in lænam quandam consuluitq; striges nostro de sanguine & in me, hippomenes fætæ semina legit equæ. Vide de his Aristotelem de natura animali[~u] lib. 6. cap. 22. Plini[~u] l. 8. c. 42._] [Footnote n: _Aug. de doctr. Christ. l. 2. c. 22. & 23._] [Footnote o: _Iaquerius in flagello hereticor[~u] fascinarior[~u], cap. 6. Martinus de Arles, p. 436._] Now concerning beasts they doe oftentimes kill them out-right, and that in sundry manner, or pine and waste them by little and little, till they be consumed. For [p]the Elements, it is an agreeing consent of all, that they can corrupt and infect them, procure tempests, to stirre vp thunder & lightning, moue violent winds, destroy the fruits of the earth: for God hath a thousand wayes to chasten disobedient man, and whole treasures full of vengeance by his Angels, Diuels, Men, Beasts. For the whole nature of things is ready to reuenge the wrong done vnto the creator. [Footnote p: _Ioh. Gerson in Trialogio Astrologiæ Theologisatæ propos. 16. Palanus in Syntagmate, l. 5. c. 13_] It were but fruitlesse labour, and ill spent, to bestow long time in confirming this so manifest a truth, and not much better then set vp a candle to giue the Sunnelight when it shineth brightest in mid-heauen: yet to satisfie those who doubt here-of, I will giue a small touch of an example or two. [q]_Curius Sidius_ the Roman Generall in a battell against _Salebus_, Captaine of the _Moores_, in want of water, obtained such abundance of raine from Heauen by Magicall inchantments, that it not onely sufficed the thirst of his distressed Souldiers, but terrified the enemies in such sort, (supposing that God had sent helpe) as of their owne accord, they sought for conditions of peace, and left the field. [Footnote q: _Dion. Cassius Romana Historiæ, lib. 60. in Claudio._] The narration of _Olaus[r] Magnus_ which he maketh of his Northerne Wisards and Witches, would seeme to be meere fictions, and altogether incredible, as of _Ericus_, who had the winde at command, to blow alwayes from that quarter to which he would set his hat. Or _Hagbert_, who could shew herselfe in any shape, higher or lower, as she pleased, at one time so great as a Giant, at another as little as a Dwarfe: by whose Diabolicall practises mighty Armies haue beene dicomfited, and sundry others, except the truth hereof were without contradiction approued: by the experience of our owne Nauigators, who trade in _Finland_, _Denmarke_, _Lapland_, _Ward-house_, _Norway_, and other Countries of that Climate, and haue obtained of the inhabitants thereof, a certaine winde for twenty dayes together, or the like fixed period of time, according to the distance of place and strings tied with three knots, so that if one were loosed, they should haue a pleasant gale: if the second, a more vehement blast: if the third, such hideous & raging tempests that the Mariners were not able once to looke out, to stand vpon the hatches, to handle their tackle, or to guide the helme with all their strength; and are somtimes violently carried back to the place from whence they first loosed to sea; and many (more hardy then wise) haue bought their triall full deere, opening those knots, and neglecting admonition giuen to the contrary. _Apuleius_ ascribeth to _Pamphile_, a Witch of _Thessalia_, little lesse then diuine power to effect strange wonders in heauen, in earth, in hell; to darken the starres, stay the course of riuers, dissolue mountains, and raise vp spirits, this opinion went for currant and vncontrouled. And without all question the Diuell[s] can do this and much more, when God letteth him loose. For he is stiled, _The Prince of the world_, _Ioh. 12. 31_. _A strong man armed_, _Luke 11. 21_, _Principality_, _a ruler of darknesse_, _spirituall wickednesse in high places_, _Ephes. 6. 12_. [Footnote r: _Historia de gentibus septentrionalibus, lib. 3. cap. 13.14.15.16.17.18.19._] [Footnote s: _De potestate D[e,]monum Aquinas in Summa parte 1, quest 110. Binfeldius in titulum codicis de maleficis & mathematicis. Zanchius de operibus creationis, part. 1. lib. 4. cap. 10.11.12. Danaus in Isagoge, parte 2. de Angelis bonis & malis._] Thus he dismaied the heart of _Saul_ (when he had broken the Commandement of God) with dreadfull feare, and enraged his minde with bloudy fury, _1. Sam. 16. 14_. Entred into _Iudas_, prouoked him to betray his maister, dispaire and hang himselfe, _Math. 27. 3._ filled the heart of _Ananias_ and _Saphira_ with dissimulation,_Act. 5. 3._ possessed the bodies of many really, as is manifest in the History of the Gospell. Our Sauiour Christ assureth vs, that a daughter of _Abraham_ was bound for 18 yeares by Sathan, with such a spirit of infirmitie, as bowed together, shee could in no wise lift vp herselfe, _Luk. 13. 11.16_. He spake out of the _Pythonesse_, _Act. 16. 17._ brought downe fire from heauen, and consumed _Iobs_ sheepe 7000. and his seruants, raised a storme, strooke the house wherein his sonnes and daughters feasted with their elder brother, smote the foure corners of it, with the ruine whereof they all were destroyed, and perished: and ouerspread the body of that holy Saint their father with botches[t] and biles from the sole of his foot to the crowne of his head.[u] And hee wil haue his seruants Wisards & Witches, coadiutors with him, and maketh them fit instruments to the performance of all wicked exploits, and this is when God pleaseth (of which I shall haue occasion to speake more afterward) to giue leaue, for his wil is the first supreme and principal cause of all things: and nothing can be done visibly in this Common-wealth here below of the creatures, but is decreed and determined so to be first in the high Court of Heauen, according to his vnsearchable wisedome and iustice, disposing punishments and rewards as seemeth good vnto himselfe. So _Pharaohs_[x] Magitians could turne water into bloud, their roddes into serpents, produce frogges, &c. But when it came to the base vermine, to make lice, they were pusled, and acknowledged their imbecillity, confessing, _Digitus Dei est_,[u] Gods finger is here, _Exod. 18. 19_. For if they could effect and bring to passe all mischieuous designements without his sufferance, it would inferre a weakenesse, and conclude a defect of[z] power in him, as not sufficient to oppose their strength, supplant their force, and auoid their stratagems. And we must not imagine that the practioners of these damnable Arts of which sexe soeuer, be they men or women, do performe those mischifes which they effect, by their owne skills or such meanes as they vse, of which sort bee the bones of dead mens skuls, Toades, Characters, Images, &c. But through the cooperation of the Diuell, who is by nature subtile, by long experience instructed, swift to produceth strange works, & to humane vnderstanding admirable. Yet[aa] he will haue those his vassals perswaded of some great benefit bestowed vpon them, whereby they are inabled to helpe and hurt, whom, how, and when they list; and all to indeere them, & by making them partakers in his villany, being strongly bound in his seruice, & stedfastly continued in the same, might more grieuously offend God, and bring iust condemnation vpon themselues. And for the greater, and more forceable inticing allurement hereunto, hee promiseth to giue and doe many things for their sakes, and reueale to them hidden secrets, and future euents, such[bb] as he himselfe purposeth to doe, or knoweth by naturall signes shall come to passe. So then to conclude, in[cc] euery Magicall action, there must be a concurrence of these three. First, the permitting will of God. Secondly, the suggestion of the Diuell, and his power cooperating. Thirdly, the desire and consent of the Sorcerer; and if[dd] any of these be wanting, no trick of witch-craft can be performed. For if God did not suffer it, neither the Diuell, nor the Witch could preuaile to do any thing, no not so much as to hurt one[ee] bristle of a Swine. And if the Diuell had not seduced the minde of the wicked woman, no such matter would haue beene attempted. And againe, if hee had not the Witch to bee his instrument, the Diuell were debarred of his purpose. [Footnote t: _Vlcus pessim[~u] extensiue quia per totum corpus diffusum, & intensiue, quia in eo omnis morbi & doloris comprehensio vide Mercerum in cap. 2. Iobi._] [Footnote u: _Regula Theologorum Quecunque possunt D[e,]mones possunt etiam magi & malefici eius opera, hinc & illi tempestates exitant Virgilius Ecologa 4ª._ Carmina vel c[oe]lo possunt deducere Lunam: Carminibus Circe socios mutauit Vlyssis, Frigidus in pratis cantando rumpitur Anguis, &c. _Et de se Iactans Medea apud Ouidium Lib. 7. Metamorphose+ô+n._ Cum volui ripis ipsis mirantibus; amnes In fontes rediere suos, concussaque sisto, Stantia concutio cantu freta, nubila pello, Nubilaque iudico. _Apud Virgilium Dido Annam sororem alloquitur._ --Mihi Massilæ gentis monstrata sacerdos, Hæc se carminibus promittit soluere mentes Sistere aquam fluvijs, & flumina vertere retro. _Et Brachmanius Nonnus Dionysiacon, lib. 36. +ouranothen katagontes epharmaxanto Selênên, astatheos phaethontes anestêsanto pareiên+ De Marco heretico & mago stupenda referunt Irenæus contra hereses. lib. * cap. 9. & Epiphanius 3. tom. lib. 1._] [Footnote x: _Iannes, Iambres, 2. Timot. 3._] [Footnote y: _Vide Nicolaum Lyranum in & additionem Burgensis, & replicam correctorij contra Burgensem._] [Footnote z: _Diabolus Deo perpetuo aduersatur voluntate & actu non semper effectu: id est, Intentio semper est mala, etsi non semper ex animi sui sententia maium perficere possit Deo illud vertente in bonum. Aug de Ciuit. Dei, lib. * cap. 35 & de trinitate lib. 3. cap. 8._] [Footnote aa: _Iaquerius in flagello hereticorum fafcinariorum, cap. 15._] [Footnote bb: _Augustinus de diuinatione Dæmonum._] [Footnote cc: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum vnde magorum operationes vim suam habent plenissimam. Aquinas Summa contra gentes, lib. 3. cap. 105. & eius in eum locum commentator Franciscus de siluestris._] [Footnote dd: _Tritemius in libro responsionum ad qu[e,]stiones Maximiliani Imperatoris qu[e,]stione. Cyrillus Catechismo 4 ad illuminatos, Arbitrium incitare potest Diabolus cogere omnino preter voluntatem non potest._] [Footnote ee: _Tertul. de fuga in Persecutione._] And as these euill spirits are in themselues different in power, vnderstanding, and subtiltie: so can their seruants do more or lesse through their meanes. I conclude with that memorable speech of a most noble and learned man,[ff] The Diuell is the Author and principall of all that euill which the Witch or Wisard committeth, not thereby to make them more powerfull, but to deceiue them by credulity and ouer-light beliefe, and to get himselfe a companion of his impiety, cruelty, and hatred, which he beareth both to God and man; and also of eternall damnation: for indeed it is his worke, which the foolish and doating wisards coniecture is brought to passe by the words and inchantments which they vtter: and is very busie thus to colour his proceedings, which neuer come abroad in their owne likenesse, because he enuieth the blessed estate of man, and his eternall saluation purchased by the perfect obedience of Christ the Redeemer, and hateth that Image of God which hee beholdeth in him; much like the Panther,[gg] who when hee cannot get hold of the man himselfe, is so inflamed with rage, that he teareth his picture in peeces violently which is cast vpon the ground to hinder his pursuit of the hunter who hath carried away his whelpes. And [hh]so as _Lactantius_ speaketh, these vncleane spirits cast from heauen, wander vp and downe the earth, compasse land and sea, seeking to bring men to destruction as a consort of their owne desperate and irrecouerable estate. [Footnote ff: _Iulius Scaliger de subtilitate, ad Cardanum, exercitatione 349. an venefici credulitas vim addat malefice._] [Footnote gg: _Basilius Homilia 21. in diuersos Scriptura locos sermone habito in non procul a fine._] [Footnote hh: _Lib. 2. qui est de origine erroris cap. 15._] _The fourth Proposition._ Hauing shewed before, that the pracise of Witches receiueth the being and perfection from that[a] agreement which is made betweene them and Diuell, it now followeth necessarily, that we do enquire whether it bee possible that there may be any such agreement and league betweene them. The cause of doubt ariseth from the diuersity or disparity of their natures, the one being a corporall substance, the other spirituall, vpon which ground some[b] haue supposed that no such contract can passe: But we are to hold the contrary affirmatiue, both _de esse_, and _de posse_, that there may be, and is, notwithstanding this difference of essence, a mutuall contract of the one with the other: for we read of sundry leagues between God & his people, and some with great solemnitie of ceremonies vsed in the same, a[c] _Genesis 15. 9.17._ and _Deut. 5. 2._ and in many other like places, yet is hee a simple essence,[d] free from all diuision, multiplication, composition, accidents, incorporeall, spirituall, and inuisible. But in Angelicall creatures, though there be no Physicall composition of matter and forme, or a soule and a body; yet is there a metaphysicall, being substances consisting of an act and possibility, subiect and accidents. And furthcr, betweene a spirit and a man, there is communication of the vnderstanding and will, the faculties and actions whereof must concurre in euery couenant, which is nothing else but the consent of two or more persons about the thing. [Footnote a: _Nauarrus in Manuali confessarior. cap. 11 in primum decalogi præceptum._] [Footnote b: _Ioh. Wierus, totum hoc fictitium putat & fondus imaginarimum, & impossibile putat, idque passim in suis libris præcipuè autem de Lamijs, cap. 7. 8. & 23. & de pr[e,]stigijs Dæmon[~u], lib. 6. c. 27, & c. Hunc refutant eruditè. Binfeldo confessionibus maleficorum, & Thomas Erastus de Lamijs._] [Footnote c: _De his ceremonijs similiæ, Ier. cap. 34. 18. & multa Cyrillus contra Iulianum & Procopius Gazæus in hunc locum & Augustinus._] [Footnote d: _Palanus Syntagmatis Theologie, l. 2. cap. 8._] And when the Diuell durst in expresse tearmes tender a contract to our blessed Sauiour, tempting him in the wildernesse, shewing him the kingdomes of the world, and the glory thereof, offered them with this condition, _All these will I giue thee, if thou wilt fall downe and worship me_, _Mat. 4. 9_. How much more then will hee aduenture vpon man, weake, wicked, and easie to be seduced? And who[e] can doubt but that these bee the solemne and formall words of a bargaine, _Do vt des, do vt facias_, I giue this for to haue that giuen, I bestow this, to haue such, or such a thing done for me. [Footnote e: _Brissonius de formulis, lib. 6. Solemnia pactorum sine obligatione verba sunt: spondes? spondeo. promittis? promitto dabis? dabo vt facias, faciam. Iustinianus in institutionibus, lib. 3. titulo 16._] Now this couenant is of two sorts, secret or manifest; secret, when one indeuoureth or intendeth to do any thing by such meanes, which neither in nature, nor by institution haue power to produce the purposed effects, or be conioyned as neccessary with other, which can bring the same to passe. Expresse, wherein consent is giuen either by writing, and words, or making such signes, whereby they renounce God, and deuote themselues slaues and vassals vnto the Diuell, hee promising, that vpon such condition they shall doe wonders, know future euents, helpe and hurt at their pleasure, and others like vnto these. An example whereof wee may obserue in[f] _Siluester_ the second, one of the holy Fathers of _Rome_, who did homage to the Diuell his Lord, and made fidelity to liue at his will and appoyntment, vpon condition to obtaine what he desired, by which meanes he got first the Bishopricke of _Rhemes_, after of _Rauenna_, and at the last the Papacie of _Rome_. Which Sea, though it will yeeld good plenty of such like presidents, and we may finde them in authenticall records of Histories, yet I content my selfe with this one. [Footnote f: _Hic Monachus Floriacensis Cænobij diabolo suadente, & enormiter instigante si eius ob*quijs & arti magica obligauit in tantum quod Diabolo fecit Homagium cum pacto vt ei omnia ad nutum succederent, & c. Holcot. in cap. 17. lib. sapientiæ lectione 190. Platina in illius vita. Vide & Balerum de Romanorum pontificum actis in lib. 5. in Syluestro secundo, & Robertum Barnes. de vitis pontificum Romanorum._] [g]The formall tearmes of this couenant, as they bee set downe by some, are most dreadfull: and the seuerall poynts these. [Footnote g: _Godelmannus de magia tacita & illicita, lib. 1. cap. 2. xº.8.9.10 &c._] To renounce God his Creator, and that promise made in Baptisme. To deny Iesus Christ, and refuse the benefites of his obedience, yea to blaspheme his glorious and holy name. To worship the Deuill, & repose all confidence and trust in him. To execute his commaundements. To vse things created of God for no end, but to the hurt and destruction of others. And lastly, to giue himselfe soule and body to that deceitfull and infernall spirit, who on the other part appeareth to them in the shape of a man (which is most common) or some other creature, conferreth familiarly, and bindeth himselfe by many promises, that at all times called for, he will presently come, giue counsell, further their desires, answer any demaund, deliuer from prison, and out of all dangers, bestow riches, wealth, pleasure, and what not? and all without any labour and paines-taking, in a word to become seruiceable to their will, & accomplish all their requests. And this is that which the Prophet _Esay_ speaketh, _chap. 28. 15._ to make a couenant with death, and an agreement with hell. The consent of the ancient Fathers, if there were any doubt, might be added to the further clearing of this conclusion. For [h]_Cyprian_ directly affirmeth, that all those who vse magicall Arts, make a couenant with the Diuell, yea he himselfe, while he practized the same (before his calling to the light and true knowledge of God) was bound vnto him by an especiall[i] writing, whereunto some subscribe with their owne bloud, which was a vse among diuers nations, and a most sure bond of constant friendship, and [k]inuiolable consociation. But herein these seduced wretches are deceiued: for these promises which he makes, are treacherous, and the obseruances whereunto he enioyneth and perswadeth them, as powerfull in producing such or such effects, meere deceipts, and haue no qualitie in them to that purpose, but respecteth his owne ends, which are one of these foure. [Footnote h: _Siue illius sit, siue alterius esto liber. De duplici Martyrio. Aquinas 2ª. 2a. quest. 96. Ioh. Gerson in Trilogio astrologiæ Theologisatæ propositione 21. & de erroribus circa artem magicam, Dicto 2._] [Footnote i: _Camerarius meditationum historiarum, lib. 1. cap. 6. Bodinus exampla ponit D[e,]monomanias. lib. 2. & 4. Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum._] [Footnote k: _Simile de Catilina refert Salustius. cum ad ius iurandum populares scelerius sui adigeret, humani corporis sanguinem vina permixtum in pateris circumtulisse, inde cum post execration[~e] omnes degustauissent, sicut in solemnibus sacris fieri consueuit aperuisse consili[~u] suum, atque eo dictitant fecisse, quo inter se magis fidi forent._] First, to the mouing of them to the breaking of Gods law. Secondly, to adore him with diuine worship and sacred rites. Thirdly, to weaken their hope and faith in God. Fourthly, to couer his owne fraud and treachery, that it may not be perceiued. And when they finde this Impostor failing in the performance of his vowed promises, then he wanteth not his shifts: as that these defects are not to be imputed to him, or the weakenesse of the Art, but their owne negligence or ignorance, who haue not exactly obserued such directions, and in that manner they were deliuered: or mistooke his meaning, which is commonly deliuered in[l] ambiguous tearmes, such as will admit a double construction: and herein appeareth the lamentable and woefull blindnesse of man, who is contented to swallow vp, and excuse many of his lies by one truth fore-told; which hath casually come to passe, whereas in other matters they make light account of, yea cõtemne infinit truths, if they shall finde by long search and diligent inquiry, but one falshood. Wherefore it behooueth vs to be carefull Centinels ouer our selues, for that our grand[m] aduersary, proud, enuious, and not standing in the truth, reposeth all his possibility of victory in lies, and out of this poysoned sinke, deuiseth all kinde of deceits, that so hee might depriue man of that happy and blessed estate which he lost by pride, and draw him into the society of his owne damnation: therefore it is a needfull caueat giuen by one of the ancient Fathers: Our enemy is old against whom wee fight, sixe [n]thousand yeares fully compleat are passed since he began to oppose himself against vs; but if wee obserue the commandements of God, and continue steadfast in faith, apprehending Iesus Christ, then shall we be able to withstand all his violent assaults, and ouer-come him because Christ in whom we trust, is inuincible. [Footnote l: As that to Pope _Siluester_ the second, his demand; who asked how long he should liue and enioy the _Popedome_? answered, vntil hee should say masse in _Ierusalem_; and not long after, celebrating the same in a _Chappell_ of the Church dedicated to the holy Crosse in _Rome_, called _Ierusalem_, knew how he was ouer-reached, for there hee dyed. And an other paralell to this, may be that of a certaine Bishop, much addicted to these vanities, hauing many enemies, and fearing them, asked the Diuell whether he should fly or not: who answered, _Non, sta secure, venient inimici tui suauiter, & subdentur tibi._ But being surprized, and taken by his aduersaries, and his castle set on fire, expostulating with him that hee had deceiued him in his distresse, returned answere, that he said true, if his speech had been rightly vnderstood: for he aduised, _Non sta secure_ [id est _fugias_] _venient inimici tui suauiter, & subdentur_, [id est _ignem tibi_]. Such were the Oracles which he gaue, and whereof all histories do testifie. _Holcot_ vpon the booke of Wisedome, and the rest before mentioned with him.] [Footnote m: _Leo de collectis Serm. 40. & natiuitate Domini, Serm. 7._] [Footnote n: _In proemio, lib de exhortaions ad Martyrium Cyprianus._] _The fifth Proposition._ The Diuell can assume to himself[a] a body, and frame a voyce to speake with, and further instruct and giue satisfaction to those who haue submitted themselues vnto him, and are bound to his seruice. For he lost not by his transgression and fall, his naturall[b] endowments, but they continued in him whole[c] and perfect, as in the good Angels, who abide in that obedience and holiness wherein they were created, from whence a reason confirmatiue may bee thus framed, Good Angels can take vnto themselues bodies, as _Genes. 18. 2._ _Iudg. 13. 3.6._ therefore the euill also. Thus the Diuell hath appeared to some in the forme of a [d]Man, cloathed in purple, & wearing a crowne vpon his head: to others in the likenesse of a [e]Childe: sometime he sheweth himselfe in the forme of foure-footed beastes, foules, creeping things, [f]roaring as a Lyon, skipping like a Goat, barking after the manner of a dogge, and the like. But[g] it is obserued by some, that he cannot take the shape of a Sheepe, or Doue, though of an Angell of light: _2. Cor. 11. 14_. And further, [h]most of the learned doe hold, that those bodies wherein they doe appeare, are fashioned of the[i] aire, (though it is not to be denied, but they can enter into other, as the Diuell did into the Serpent, deceiuing _Eue_, _Gen. 3. 1._) which if it continuing pure and in the owne nature,[k] hath neither colour nor figure, yet condensed receiueth both, as wee may behold in the clouds, which resemble sometime one, sometime another shape, and so in them is seene the representation of Armies fighting, of beasts and Birds, houses, Cities, and sundry other kinds of apparations. [Footnote a: _Augustinus in Enchiridio, cap .59. & 60. & Lambertus Daneusin suis comentarijs: ad eundem._] [Footnote b: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum. Aquinas, Summa part. 1. quest. 51, art. 3. & 4_] [Footnote c: _In D[e,]monibus +angelikas dôreas ou mêpote alloi ôsthas phamen, alloi eisi holoklêroi kai pamphaneis+, Dionisius Areopagita, de diuinis nominibus cap. 4. & si vacat licebit consulere in eundem Pachemeræ Paraphrasin & maximi scholia. Isidorus Hispalensis de summo bono. lib. 1. cap. 12._] [Footnote d: _Sulpitius Seuerus in vita beati Martini. Multa exempl[e,] habet Bodinus in pr[e,]fatione ad D[e,]monomaniam._] [Footnote e: _Hieronimus in vita Hilarianis._] [Footnote f: _Psellus de d[e,]monum natura._] [Footnote g: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum._] [Footnote h: _Petrus Martyr in 28. caput. lib. 2. Samuelis. Aquinas in Summa parte 1. quest 51. articul. 2. Hyperius locer[~u] Theolog. lib._] [Footnote i: _Hesiodus_ +ergôn kai hêmerôn+ _lib. 1. D[e,]monas ait esse_ +aera essamenous+_. proclus interpretatur quia sunt corpora aërea._] [Footnote k: _Iulius Scaliger de subtilitate ad Cardanum exercitatione 359. sectione 13._] Histories of all can witnesse of the Diuels appearance in human[l] shape: thus a _Pseudo-Moses_, or _Messias_ in _Crete_, perswaded the Iewes that it was he who brought their Fathers the Israelites out of Egypt, and led them through the Red Sea, and would conduct them also out of that land vpon the waters into _Iudea_. But many following his counsell, perished: the rest admonished by that destruction, turned back, accusing their folly; and when they made enquiry for this guide, to haue rewarded him according to his desert, was no where to be found, whereof they conceiued hee was a Diuell in Mans likenesse. And such an one [m]was that merry (but malicious) spirit, who walked for a long time in Saxony, and was very seruiceable, clothed in country apparrell, with a cappe on his head, delighted to conuerse and talke with the people, to demaund questions, and answer what he was asked, hurting none, except iniured before, and then declared himselfe a right diuell in reuenge. [Footnote l: _Socrates Histori[e,] ecclesiast. lib. 7. cap. 38. & historia Tripar. lib. 12. cap. 9._] [Footnote m: _Chronicon Hirsangiense._] [n]The late Discoueries and Nauigations made into the west Indies, can furnish vs with abundant testimonies hereof, in which the mindes of the inhabitants are both terrified & their bodies massacred by his visible sight, and cruell tortures; yet (which is the opinion of many learned) he cannot so perfectly represent the fashion of a mans body, but that there is some sensible deformity, by which hee bewrayeth himselfe; as his [o]feete like those of an Ox, a Horse, or some other beasts, clouen houed, his hands crooked, armed with clawes, or talants like a vulture: or some one misshapen part, wherein (though hee delight in the shape of man, as most fitting for company and conference) is demonstrated, the great and tender loue of God toward vs, who hath so branded this deceiuer, that hee may bee discerned euen of those who are but of meane capacity, and so consequently auoyded. And as in his body assumed, so in his speech there is a defect, for it is weake, small, whispering, imperfect. [Footnote n: _Vide nauigation[~e] Monsieur de Monts, ad nouam Franciam, lib. 2. cap. 5._] [Footnote o: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum. Alexander ab Alexandro dierum Genialium, lib. 1. cap. 19. Remigius de D[e,]monolatria, lib. 1. cap. 7. & apud Rhodingium antiquarum lectionum lib. 29. cap. 5. est exemplum dignum admiratione._] And thus it is [p]reported of _Hermolaus Barbarus_, who inquiring of a spirite, the signification and meaning of a difficult [q]word in _Aristotle_, he hard a low hissing, and murmuring voyce giuing answere. [Footnote p: _Remigius d[e,]monolatrias lib. 1. cap. 8 & simile commemorat de Appione Grammatico Plinius naturalis histor, lib. 30. cap. 2. Nicephorus lib. 5. sub finem._] [Footnote q: +entelecheia+] And this hee doth of set purpose, that so his sophisticall & doubtfull words might be the lesse perceiued. Neither can this seeme strange to any, that the Diuell should speake, who brought a voyce from Trees to salute[r] _Apollonius_, and inspired that talkatiue Oke in _Dodona_, famous for the Oracles vttered there in Heroicall verse, to the Grecians, and to euery nation in his owne language, Chaldeans, Egyptians, Armenians, and other people who were led by him, and depended vpon his resolution. [Footnote r: _Philostratus de vita Apollonius lib. 6. cap. 13._] And thus the [s]Image of _Memnon_, when the Sunne did shine vpon it, and his beames touched the lips thereof, (which was at the arising in the East) speake vnto them who were present. [Footnote s: _Sophocles in Trachinijs vocat +drun poluglôsson+, quia ut eius Scholiastes interpretatur +êtoi polla manteuomenos, kai dia touto polla phthengomenos, ê tês diaphorais dialektais chrêsmodêsês kai kata tên hekasta tôn manteuomenôn glôssan.+ Et hinc Argo Lycophron in Alexandra sua +lalêtrin kissan+ nominat quæ ex Didones quercu malum habuisse traditur quæ aliqoties locuta est vt apud Apollonium Argonautic+ô+n quarto ideo & +eulalon Argos+ Orpheus appelat, vide plura apud Strabonem lib. 17. & eius de hoc sono iudicium perpende. Pausanias in descriptione decem regionum veteris Græciæ, libro primo in Atticis. Iuuenalis Satyro 15. Psellus de Dæmonum natura. Tacitus libro secundo Annalium._] And considering, as hath beene mentioned before, that there passeth betweene the Witch and her Diuell, a compact, as with a Maister and a Seruant, it must therefore consist vppon prescript tearmes of commaunding, and obeying; and then of necessity is required a conuersing together; and conference whereby the same couenant may be ratified. _The sixt Proposition._ God giueth, both the diuell, and his seruants the witches, power sometimes to trouble his owne children; so [a]Christ our blessed Sauiour, was by Sathan carryed from place to place, _Math. 4. 5_. _Iob_[b] in strange manner afflicted, and his children slaine, through his power, whom none can conceiue but were Gods seruants, religiously brought vp in his feare: and their father hath an honourable testimonie from the mouth of God himselfe, _Iob 1. ver. 8_. _Dauid_, a man according to Gods owne heart, _Acts 13. 22._ is by Sathan stirred vp to number the people, _1. Chron. 21. 1._ and that incuriosity and the pride of his heart, onelie to know the multitude of his subiects, _2. Sam. 24. 2._ [Footnote a: _Iaquerius in flagello hereticorum fascinariorum, cap. 19 & 20._] [Footnote b: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum._] Whereas the Law appoynteth another end, _Exod. 30. 12._ which hee had [c]now forgotten, the maintenance of the Ministerie and worshippe of God. And a daughter of _Abraham_ is bound of the diuell eighteene whole yeeres, had a spirit of Infirmity, was bowed together, and could in no wise lift vp herselfe, _Lu. 13. 11.16._ a grieuous calamity in respect of the author, the continuance, and the effect. But to handle this poynt a little more distinctly; It shall not be amisse to open first some reasons, why God doth giue this power to the diuel ouer the righteous his children sometimes, as also vpon the wicked and disobedient to his will: And in the second place, why Witches haue the like leaue graunted vnto them. Therefore for his children. [Footnote c: _Iosephus +archaiologias+ lib. 7. sectione siue capite iuxta Græcam editionem 10._] The first reason of his permission is his inscrutable[d] wisedome, who out of euill bringeth good; so _Paul_ had a minister of Sathan to buffet him, to keepe him in humility, that hee might not waxe proude and high-minded, in regard of those great mysteries which were reuealed when hee was taken into the third heauen, _2. Corint. 12. 4_. Thus his tentation was a medicine preseruatiue preuenting the disease of his soule, which otherwise hee might haue falne into, [e]for both himselfe, and the rest of the Apostles, though they were chosen vessells, yet were they also fraile and brittle, wandring yet in the flesh vpon earth, not triumphing securely in heauen. [Footnote d: _Zanchius de operibus creationis, part. 1. lib. 4. cap. 13. apud quem etiam plura inuenies. Tertul. de fuga in persecutione has causas ponit permissionis diuinæ, aut ex causa probationis conceditur diabolo vis tentationis prouocato, vel prouocanti, aut ex causa reprobationis traditur ei peccator aut ex causa cohibitionis, vt Apostolus refert sibi datum angelum Satanæ._] [Footnote e: _Beda in collectaneis ex Augustino ad Epistolas Pauli._] Second, It is[f] proceeding from his mercy and goodnes, for the trial of faith, obedience and constancy in such as belong to God: whereof there is an excellent patterne, and vnparaleld in _Iob 1. 13.14._ _&c._ for by this triall is made a proofe to examine whether wee doe continue firme vpon our square, and vnshaken, or no; and be not remoued, eyther by the [g]seeming wonders of the diuell, or of his seruants and associats. And therefore the Apostle pronounceth him blessed, who endureth temptation, for when hee is tryed hee shall receiue the crowne of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that loue him, _Iames 1. 12._ for he is faithfull, and wil not suffer vs to be tempted aboue that we are able, but with the temptation also make a way to escape, &c. _1. Cor. 10. 13_. [Footnote f: _Iaquerius in flagello hereticarum fascinariorum, cap. 20._] [Footnote g: _Ceolcenus_ +dokimazetai hê hêmetera orthodoxos pistis ei hedraia esti kai pagê prosmenousa tô kuriô, kai mê huposuromenê hupo tou echthrou, dia tôn phantasiôdôn teratôn kai satanikôn ergôn, tôn prattomenôn hupo tôn doulôn kai huperetôn kakias.+] Third, Wee are admonished alwayes to stand in a readines, and be armed for to fight, prepared to withstand the diuell, knowing that God doth oftentimes giue him leaue to assault vs. Therefore we haue need to be furnished in all points, for we wrastle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkenesse of this world, against spirituall wickednesses in high places, _Ephes. 6. 11.12_. And _1. Pet. 5. 8.9._ be sober and vigilant, because your aduersary the diuell as a roaring Lyon walketh about, seeking whom he may deuoure. He [h]is no weake assaylant, and therefore heere by the Apostle are noted in him foure things: First, his power (a Lyon): Second, his hatred, and wrath in the word (roaring): Third, his subtilty (walking about) obseruing euery oportunity and occasion to hurt vs: Fourth, his cruelty (deuoure) no contentment but in our ruine and vtter destruction. [Footnote h: _Strigelius in explicatione locorum Theologicorum Melanthonis parte 3. titulo de cruce & calamitatibus._] Fourth, God would haue vs get the victorie against Sathan, and take knowledge, that Christ on our side fighteth for vs, through whom we triumph, and so are made more vndoubtedly assured of our saluation; and this is that which hee promised, _The [i]Seed of the woman shall bruise the head of the Serpent_, _Gen. 3. 15_. And the Apostle confirmeth, God shall tread down Sathan vnder your feete, _Rom. 16. 20_. [Footnote i: _Augustinus de Genesi ad literam, l. 11. c. 22_.] God suffereth the diuell to preuaile against the wicked, yet in the most Holy there is no iniustice _2. Chron. 19. 7_. But First, [k]Herein is the declaration of his iustice, whereby hee punisheth obstinate sinners, & those who prouoke him to wrath, and will not repent: And thus it is sayd of the _Aegiptians_, whom no plagues could soften, that hee cast vpon them the fiercenes of his anger, and indignation, and trouble, by sending euill Angels among them, [l]_Psalm 78. 49_. And when _Saul_ had neglected the commandement of God, an euill spirit from the Lord troubled him, _1. Sam. 16. 14_. Thus _Ahab_ seduced by his false prophets descendeth into the battaile, and is slaine (contemning the words of _Michaiah_) in[m] whose mouthes the diuell was a lying spirit, who sent of the Lord, perswaded him and preuailed, _1. Kin. 22. 22.23.24_. [Footnote k: _Hyperius in locis Theolog. lib. 2._] [Footnote l: _Augustinus in locuus consulatur._] [Footnote m: _Vide Iaquerium in flagello hereticorum fascinariorum, cap. 23._] Second, By affliction in the body or goodes, God[n] would quicken them vp to seeke the saluation of their soules. And so _Paul_ gaue ouer a scandalous and incestuous person vnto the diuell, that he might be induced to forsake his sin, liue chastely heereafter, and be an edifying example to those whom he had offended: and this kinde of discipline was more soueraigne, then any other could haue beene, because mans nature abhorreth Sathan, and trembleth with feare once to conceiue that he should fall into his power and hands, and this is that which he writeth, aduising the Corinthians to deliuer him vnto Sathan, for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saued in the day of the Lord Iesus, _1. Cor 5. 5_. And in this sort he speaketh of two other deceiuers and blasphemers, _Hymenaus_ and _Alexander_, I haue deliuered them vnto Sathan, that they may learne not to blaspheme, _1. Timothie 1. 20._ therfore this giuing ouer, was not to destruction, but for correction. [Footnote n: _Idem cap. 21._] The last poynt propounded, was, That witches haue power granted to vex Gods owne children aswell as others, and preuaile ouer them; and that we doe enquire (so farre as we may, and is iustifiable) of the causes thereof, which may be these. First, [o]This is permitted vnto them for the experience of their faith and integrity, so that by this meanes their loue towards God which lay hidden in the heart, is now made manifest. To be quiet and patient in prosperity, when we may enioy benefites at our owne pleasure, is a matter easily to be performed: But to endure the fire of Tribulation, that is the proofe of a stedfast Christian, and in losses and sickenesse procured by such to bee silent, and submit our selues, this is the note of a faithfull man, & to choose rather obeying the law of God, to beare the infirmity of the body, then to ouer-flow in riches, and enioying health and strength offend the Lord. [Footnote o: _Trithemius in libel. 8 qu[e,]stionum quas illi dissoluendas proposuit Maximilianus Imperator, qu[e,]st 7._] Second, this maketh a difference betweene the wicked and the godly: for thus the holy Apostle speaketh of the righteous, that by many afflictions they must enter into the kingdome of heauen, _Act. 14. 22_. And all that will liue godly in Christ Iesus suffer tribulations, _2. Timoth. 3. 12._ for whom the Lord loueth, he doth chasten, _Prouer. 3. 12_. It is a Christians glory to vndergoe for Gods cause, any vexation whatsoeuer, whether wrought by the diuell, or brought to passe by wicked men his [p]instruments; for when he is tryed, hee shall receiue the crowne of life, which God hath promised to those who loue him, _Iames 1. 12_. But wee reade contrary of the wicked, they become olde, yea, are mighty in power, their seede is established in their sight with them, and their of-spring before their eyes, their houses are safe from feare, neyther is the rod of God vpon them, &c. they spend their dayes in wealth, and in a moment go downe into the graue, _Iob 21. 7.8.9._ &c. Yet surely they are set in slippery places, sodainely destroyed and perished, & horribly consumed as a dreame when one awaketh: O Lord, thou shalt make their Image despised, &c. _Psal. 73. 18.19.20_. [Footnote p: _Potestatis diabolo concess[e,] has causas ponit Iohannes Gerson de erroribus circa artem magicam, in dicto secundo._ _1º. Obstinatorum damnationem._ _2º. Peccatorum purgationem, & punitionem._ _3º. Ad fidelium probationem, & exercitationem._ _4º Ad gloriæ dei manifestationem_] _The seuenth Proposition._ More women in a farre different proportion prooue Witches then men, by a hundred to one; therefore the Lawe of God noteth that Sex, as more subiect to that sinne, _Exodus 22. 18_. It is a common speach amongst the Iewish Rabbins, [a]many women, many Witches: And it should seeme that this was a generally receiued opinion, for so it is noted by _Pliny_, _Quintilian_, and others, neyther doth this proceede (as some haue thought) from their frailtie and imbecillity, for in many of them there is stronger resolution, to vndergoe any torment then can bee found in man, as was made apparant in that conspiracy of _Piso_ against _Nero_,[b] who commaunded that _Epicharis_, knowne to bee of the same faction, should first presently be set vpon the racke, [Sidenote: _Muliebre corpus impar dolori._] imagining that being a woman, she would neuer bee able to ouercome the paine: But all the tortures that he or his could deuise, were not able to draw from her the least confession of any thing that was then obiected against her. The first dayes question shee so vtterly contemned, that the very Chaire in which they conueied her from the place, did seeme as a Chariot wherein shee rid, triumphing ouer the barbarous vsage of their inhumane cruelty. The morrow following brought thither againe, after many rough incounters, remained so vnshaken, that wrath it selfe grew madde, to see the strokes of an obstinate and relenting fury fall so in vaine vpon the softer temper of a Woman: and at the last tooke a scarfe from about her necke, and by it knits vp within her bosome the knowledge shee had of that fact, together with that little remainder of spirit, whereof by force and violence they laboured to depriue her. [Footnote a: _In Perkei ababboth. Bodinus in confutatione opinionis Wieri. Plinius in hist. natural. Quintilianus Institutionum oratoriarium lib. 5. cap. 10._] [Footnote b: _Tacit. Annal. lib. 15._] [c]Former ages haue likewise produced _Leena_, an exemplary president of this sort, to all posterity, who when _Armodius_ and _Aristogiton_ hauing failed of the execution of their enterprise against _Hipparchus_ a tyrant, had beene put to death, she was brought to the torture to be enforced to declare what other complices there were of the conspiracie. But rather then shee should bee compelled thereunto, bit her tongue asunder, and spit it in the face of the tyrant, that though she would, yet could not now disclose them. In remembrance whereof the Athenians caused a Lyon of Brasse to bee erected, shewing her inuincible courage by the generosity of that beast, and her perseuerance in secrecie, in that they made it without a tongue. Therefore the learned haue searched out other causes thereof, and among the rest, obserued these as the most probable. [Footnote c: _Tertul. in Apologet. Crinitus de doctrina Christiana lib. 9. cap. 8._] First, they are by nature credulous, wanting experience, and therfore more easily deceiued. Secondly, [d]they harbour in their breast a curious and inquisitiue desire to know such things as be not fitting and conuenient, and so are oftentimes intangled with the bare shew and visard of goodnesse. As the Lady of Rome, who was importune, and vehemently instant vpon her husband, to know what was debated of that day at the Councell Table. And when he could not be at rest, answered, The Priests had seene a Larke flying in the aire with a golden Helmet on his head, and holding a speare in his foot. Scarce she had this, but presently she told it to one of her maids: she to another of her fellowes, so that report was spread through the whole Citie, and went for currant vntill it receiued a checke: But all are not of this mould. [Footnote d: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum. Peucerus de pr[e,]cipius diuinationum generibus in titulo de +theomanteia+ Martinus de Arles._] Thirdly, their complection is softer, and from hence more easily receiue the impressions offered by the Diuell; as when they be instructed and gouerned by good Angels, they proue exceeding religious, and extraordinarily deuout; so consenting to the suggestions of euill spirits, become notoriously wicked, so that there is no mischiefe aboue that of a woman, _Eccles. 25. 13._ &c. Fourthly, in them is a greater facility to fall, and therefore the Diuell at the first took that aduantage, and set vpon _Eue_ in _Adams_ absence, _Genes. 3. 3_. Fifthly, this sex, when it conceiueth wrath or hatred against any, is vnplacable, possessed with vnsatiable desire of reuenge, and transported with appetite to right (as they thinke) the wrongs offered vnto them: and when their power herein answereth not their will, and are meditating with themselues how to effect their mischieuous proiects and designes, the Diuell[e] taketh the occasion, who knoweth in what manner to content exulcerated mindes, windeth himselfe into their hearts, offereth to teach them the meanes by which they may bring to passe that rancor which was nourished in their breasts, and offereth his helpe and furtherance herein. [Footnote e: _Exemplum apud Binfeldium reperies de confessionibus maleficorum, pag. 32._] Sixthly, they are of a slippery tongue, and full of words: and therefore if they know any such wicked practises, are not able to hold them, but communicate the same with their husbands, children, consorts, and inward acquaintance; who not consideratly weighing what the issue and end thereof may be, entertaine the same, and so the poyson is dispersed. Thus _Dalilah_ discouered her husbands strength where it lay, vnto the Philistines; and procured his infamous and disastrous ouer-throw. _Judg. 16. 18._ Hitherto in some Propositions I haue set downe the originall of witch-craft, and other such curious and vnlawfull Arts, the quality of the persons agents in the same, the power of the Diuell, and his confederates, the league of association which enterchangeably passeth betweene them, his assuming a body, and framing a voice for the performance of that businesse; that women, and why, are most subiect to this hellish practice. Now the truth of all these shall appeare by exemplary proofes in the Narration following. * * * * * A true Narration of some of those _Witch-crafts which _Marie_ wife of_ Henry Smith Glouer did practise, and of the _hurts she hath done vnto sundry persons by the same:_ confirmed by her owne Confession, and from the publike _Records of the examination of diuers vpon their oaths: of her death, and execution for the same, which _was on the twelfth day of Ianuarie_ _last past._ _Marie_ wife of _Henrie Smith_, Glouer, possessed with a wrathfull indignation against some of her neighbours, in regard that they made gaine of their buying and selling Cheese, which shee (vsing the same trade) could not doe, or they better (at the least in her opinion) then she did, often times cursed them, and became incensed with vnruly passions, armed with a setled resolution, to effect some mischieuous proiects and designes against them. The diuell who is skilfull, and reioyceth of such an occasion offered and knoweth how to stirre vp the euill affected humours of corrupt mindes (she becomming now a fitte subject, through this her distemper, to worke vpon, hauing the vnderstanding darkened with a cloude of passionate, and reuengefull affections) appeared vnto her amiddes these discontentments, [Sidenote: Proposition 4.] in the shape of a blacke man, and willed that the she should continue in her malice, enuy, hatred, banning and cursing; and then he would be reuenged for her vpon all those to whom she willed euill: [Sidenote: Proposition 5.] and this promise was vttered in a lowe murmuring and hissing voyce: and at that present they entred tearmes of a compact, he requiring that she should forsake God, and depend vpon him: to which she condescended in expresse tearmes, renouncing God, and betaking herselfe vnto him. I am sparing by anie amplification to enlarge this, but doe barely and nakedly rehearse the trueth, and number of her owne words vnto mee. After this hee presented himselfe againe at sundry times, and that to this purpose (as may probably bee coniectured) to hold her still in his possession, who was not able, eyther to looke further into these subtilties, then the superficiall barke thereof, or not discouer the depth of his designements, and in other formes, as of a mist, and of a ball of fire, with some dispersed spangles of blacke; and at the last in prison (after the doome of iudegement, and sentence of condemnation was passed against her) two seuerall times, in that figure as at the first: only at the last he seemed to haue a paire of horns vpon his head, and these as shee came downe from her chamber, being sent for to conferre with some learned and reuerend Diuines, by whose prayers and instructions she might be brought to the sight and confession of her grieuous offences, be regained and rescued out of his hands, brought to repentance, and the fauour of God, assured hope of mercie, and eternall life, and at these times he wished her to confesse nothing to any of them, but continue constant in her made promise, rely vpon him, and hee would saue her. This was too high a straine aboue his reach to haue made it good, and a note of his false descant, who hauing compassed this wretched woman, brought her to a shamefull and vntimely end; yet doing nothing herein contrary to his malicious purposes, for hee was a murtherer from the beginning, _Iohn 8. 44_. Now then, to descend to particulars, and the effects of this hellish association made. Being thus joyned and linked together in a reciprocall league, he beginneth to worke for her, in procuring the mischiefe of those whom she maligned, whereof these few acknowleged by her selfe, may yeeld some taste of more, though concealed. ¶ _Her wicked practise against Iohn Orkton._ The first who tasted of the gall of her bitternes was _Iohn Orkton_ a Sailer, and a man of strong constitution of body, who about some fiue yeares sithence, returning out of Holland in the Netherland, or low Countries beyond the Seas, hapened, for some misdemeanors committed by him to strike the sonne of this _Mary Smith_ (but in such sort as could not in reason bee offensiuely taken) who hearing his complaint, came forth into the streete, cursing and banning him therefore, as oftentimes shee did, dwelling in the next adioyning house, and wished in a most earnest and bitter manner, that his fingers might rotte off; wherevpon presently hee grew weake, distempered in stomacke, and could digest no meate, nor other nourishment receiued, and this discrasie or feeblenesse continued for the space of three quarters of a yeare; which time expired, the fore-mentioned griefe fel downe from the stomacke into his hands and feete, so that his fingers did corrupt, and were cut off; as also his toes putrified & consumed in a very strange and admirable manner. Neuerthelesse, notwithstanding these calamities, so long as hee was able, went still to Sea, in the goods and shippes of sundry Merchants (for it was his onely meanes of liuing) but neuer could make any prosperous voyage (as then other men did) eyther beneficiall to the Owners, or profitable to him selfe. Whereupon, not willing to bee hindrance to others, and procure no good for his owne maintenance by his labours, left that trade of life, and kept home, where his former griefe encreasing, sought to obtaine help and remedie by Chirurgery, and for this end went to Yarmouth, hoping to be cured by one there, who was accompted very skilfull: but no medicines applyed by the Rules of Arte and Experience, wrought any expected or hoped for effect: for both his hands and feete, which seemed in some measure euery euening to be healing, in the morning were found to haue gone backeward, and growne far worse then before: So that the Chirurgian perceiuing his labour to bee wholly frustrate, gaue ouer the cure, and the diseased patient still continueth in a most distressed and miserable estate, vnto the which hee was brought by the hellish practises of this malitious woman, who long before openly in the streetes, (whenas yet the neighbours knew of no such thing) reioycing at the calamity, said, _Orkton_ now lyeth a rotting. And no maruell though she could tell that which herselfe had done, and her good maister would not suffer to be concealed, but that the testimony of her owne tongue should remayne as a record towardes her further detection and condemnation, who sought meanes of her voluntary accord to be reconciled with the wofull distressed party, but this was nothing else but to plaister ouer and disguise her former inhumane and barbarous actions, for no reliefe at all followed thereof: for oftentimes, as hath beene prooued, the diuells and witches his [Sidenote: Propositiõ 3.] instruments doe cause such diseases, which neyther the one, nor the other can remoue againe. And this is not any vaporous imagination, but a most vndoubted trueth. For now this poore man continueth still in a lamentable estate, griefe, and paines encreasing, without hope of helpe, except God in the abundance of his tender mercies vouchsafe to grant comfort and deliuerance. ¶ _Her Wicked practise against Elizabeth Hancocke_ The second person distressed, by this witch, was _Elizabeth Hancocke_, then widdow, now wife of _Iames Scot_: the maner, occasion, and proceeding of whose dealing against her was thus. She comming out of the towne from the shoppe of one _Simon Browne_ a Silkeman, vnto whom she had carried home some worke, which was by him put out vnto her; _Henry Smith_, as shee passed by his doore, tooke her by the hand, and smilingly said, that his ducke (meaning his wife, this woman of whome we now speake) told him that shee had stolne her henne; which wordes she then passed ouer, as onely spoken in merriment, and denying the same: in the meane time, as they were interchanging these words, shee came herselfe, and directly charged her with the henne, and wished that the bones thereof might sticke in her throat, when she should eate the same: which speech also she made no great reckoning of, supposing them to be but words of course, and might bee vttered in jeast. Neuerthelesse, afterward better considering of the same, conceiued much griefe, to bee counted one of so euill quality and disposition, and espying that hen for which she was accused, to sit vpon the hatch of her shoppe doore, went to her, and mooued with the indignity of that slaunder, and vniust imputation, told her in some passion and angry manner, that it was a dishonest part thus to blemish the good name of her neighbors with so vntrue aspersions: whereupon, breaking foorth in some violence, she wished the pox to light vpon her, and named her prowde _Iinny_, prowde flurts, and shaking the hand, bade her go in, for she should repent it; and the same night, within three or foure houres after these curses and imprecations vttered, she was taken and pinched at the heart, and felt a sodaine weaknesse in all the parts of her body; yet her appetite to meare nothing diminished, and so continued for the space of three weekes; in which time, when she was any thing well, would come to the doore, and leane vpon the stall, whom this _Marie Smith_ seeing, did euer banne, adding the former curse, the poxe light vpon you, can you yet come to the doore? and at the end of these three weekes, beeing but very weake, came foorth as shee vsed to doe, to take the ayre, this mischieuous woman most bitterly cursed her againe, whereupon she went into the house, fell into such a torturing fit, and nipping at the heart, that she fainted, hardly recouerable for the space of halfe an houre, and so grieuously racked and tormented through all parts of her body, as if the very flesh had beene torne from the bones, by the violent paine whereof she could not refraine, but tore the haire from off her head, and became as one distraught, bereaued of sence, and vnderstanding: And the same night the bed whereon she lay, was so tossed, and lifted vp and downe, both in her owne feeling, and in the sight of others then present beholders of her extreamities, by the space of one houre or more, that she was therewith exceedingly terrified, & did thinke oftentimes in her sleepe, that she did see this _Marie Smith_ standing before her. And this fit continued sixteene houres, during which passion _Edward Drake_ her father came to the Towne, touched with griefe for this torture of his daughter (as parents hearts are relenting and tender, and naturall compassion is soone stirred vp in them) tooke her vrine, went to one for his aduice (whose fact herein is no way iustifiable, and argued but a small measure of religion, and the knowledge of God in him) who first tolde vnto him the cause of his comming, that is, to seeke help for his daughter, and then added, that she was so farre spent, that if hee had stayed but one day longer, the woman who had wronged her, would haue spent her heart, and so become vnrecouerable, and thereupon shewed him her face in a Glasse; and further, opened the beginning cause of falling out, which was for a hen, which before this, _Drake_ neyther knew nor heard of, and then gaue his counsell for remedy, which was the matter sought for & desired, & that was in this order. To make a cake with flower from the Bakers, & to mix the same instead of other liquor, with her own water, and bake it on the harth, wherof the one halfe was to be applyed and laid to the region of the heart, the other halfe to the back directly opposit; & further, gaue a box of ointment like triacle, which must be spread vpon that cake, and a powder to be cast vpon the same, and certaine words written in a paper, to be layd on the likewise with the other, adding this caueat, that if his daughter did not amend within six houres after the taking of these receits, then there was no health or recouery to be looked for: & further, wished silence to be kept herein, for the womã who had done this, would know any thing. And being thus furnishing with instructions, and returning home, as shee alighted from his horse to enter into that house where his daughter lay (being the next vnto _Mary Smiths_) shee then stood leaning ouer her shop window, whom hee knew to be that person, which was shewed vnto him, and she cursed him passing by, and told his daughter that her Father had beene with a Wisard. And the next day following after they had put in practise the directions giuen, she affirmed to diuers of the neighbours, that _Drake_ the afflicted womans father, had beene to aske counsell, and made a Witch Cake, but shee would learne how they came to haue that knowledge: yet for the present she found helpe, and was freed from the languishing and other conflicts wherewith she was assaulted by the space of sixe weekes. After this, being married vnto _Iames Scot_, a great Cat which kept with this Witch (of whose infernall both purposes and practises wee now speake) frequented their house; and vpon doing some scathe, her husband moued therwith, thrust it twice through with his sword: which notwithstanding those wounds receiued, ran away: then he stroke it with all his force vpon the head with a great pike staffe, yet could not kill her; but shee leapt after this vpward almost a yard from the boords of that chamber where she now was, and crept downe: which hee perceiuing, willed his lad (a boy of foureteene yeares) to dragge her to the muck-hill, but was not able; and therefore put her into a sacke, and being in the same, still moued and stirred. Whereupon they put her out againe, and cast her vnder a paire of staires, purposing in the morning, to get more helpe, and carry her away; but then could not be found, though all the doores that night were locked, and neuer heard what afterward became thereof. Not long after, this Witch came forth with a Birchin broome, and threatned to lay it vpon the head of _Elizabeth Scot_, and defiled her cloathes therewith, as she swept the street before her shop doore, and that in the sight of her husband, who not digesting this indignity offered vnto his wife, threatned that if she had any such fits, as she endured being a Widow before marriage, hee would hang her. At this she clapped her hands, and said hee killed her Cat. And within two or three dayes after this enterchange of words betweene them, his wife was perplexed with the like paine and griefe at her heart, as formerly she had beene; and that for two dayes and a night: wherefore her husband went to this wrathfull and malicious person, assuring that if his wife did not amend, hee would accuse her to the Magistirate, and cause the [a]rigor of the law to be executed vpon her, which is due to such malefactors. These things were done some three yeares sithence. The party troubled yet liueth, but in no confirmed health, nor perfect soundnesse of body. [Footnote a: _Witches can by no meanes bee so easily brought to recall the mischiefe they haue done, as by threats and stripes. Remigius in Dæmonolatria, lib 3. c. 3._] _Her wicked practises against Cicely Balye._ A third subiect whereupon this wrathfull womans anger wrought, was _Cicely Balye_, then seruant to _Robert Coulton_, now wife of _William Vaux_, who sweeping the street before her maisters doore vpon a Saturday in the euening, _Mary Smith_ began to pick a quarrell about the manner of sweeping, and said vnto her she was a great fat-tail'd sow, but that fatnesse should shortly be pulled downe and abated. And the next night being Sunday immediatly following, a Cat came vnto her, sate vpon her breast, with which she was grieuously tormented, and so oppressed, that she could not without great difficulty draw her breath, and at the same instant did perfectly see the said _Mary_ in the chamber where she lay, who (as she conceiued) set that Cat vpon her, and immediatly after fell sicke, languished, and grew exceeding leane; and so continued for the space of halfe a yeare together, during the whole continuance in her maisters seruice; vntill departing from him, she dwelt with one Mistres _Garoway_, and then began to bee amended in her health, and recouer of her former pining sicknesse: for this Witch had said, that so long as she dwelt neere her, she should not be well, but grow from euill to worse. Thus euery light trifle (for what can be lesse then sweeping of a lttle dust awry?) can minister matter to set on fire a wrathfull indignation, and inflame it vnto desired reuenge, the Diuell being willing to apprehend and take hold vpon such an occasion, that so he might do some pleasing office to his bond-slaue, whom she adored in submisse manner, vpon her knees, with strange gestures, vttering many mumuring, broken, and imperfect speeches, as this _Cicely_ did both heare and see, there being no other partition between the chamber wherein shee performed these rites, and the house of her maister with whom she then dwelt, but only a thin seeling of boord, through a cranny or rift of whereof she looked, listned attentiuely vnto her words, and beheld diligently her behauiour, and might haue seene and heard much more, but that she was with the present spectacle so affrighted, that she hastened downe in much feare and distemper. _Her wicked practise against Edmund Newton._ The fourth endammaged by this Hagge, was one _Edmund Newton_: the discontentment did arise from this ground; Because hee had bought seuerall bargaines of Holland cheese, and sold them againe, by which she thought her benefit to be somewhat impaired, vsing the like kinde of trading. The manner of her dealing with him was in this sort. At euery seuerall time buying Cheese he was grieously afflicted, being thrice, and at the last either she or a spirit in her likenesse did appeare vnto him, and whisked about his face (as he lay in bed) a wet cloath of very loathsome sauour; after which hee did see one cloathed in russet with a little bush beard, who told him hee was sent to looke vpon his fore legge, and would heale it; but rising to shew the same perceiuing hee had clouen feet, refused that offer, who then (these being no vaine conceits, or phantasies, but well aduised and diligently considered obseruances) suddenly vanished out of sight. After this she sent her Impes, a Toad, and Crabs crawling about the house, which was a shoppe planchered with boords, where his seruants (hee being a Shooemaker) did worke: one of which tooke that toad, put it into the fire, where it made a groaning noyse for one quarter of an houre before it was consumed; during which time _Mary Smith_ who sent it, did endure, (as was reported) torturing paines, testifying the felt griefe by her out-cryes then made. The sicknesse which he first sustained, was in manner of a madnesse or phrensie, yet with some interposed release of extremity: so that for thirteene or foureteene weekes together hee would be of perfect memory, other times distracted and depriued of all sence. Also the ioynts and parts of his body were benummed, besides other pains and greifes from which hee is not yet freed, but continueth in great weakenesse, disabled to performe any labour, whereby hee may get sufficient and competent maintenance. And by the councel of some, sending for this woman by whom hee was wronged, that he might scratch her (for this hath gone as currant, and may plead prescription for warrant a* foule sinne among Christians to thinke one Witch-craft can driue out another) his nailes turned like feathers, hauing no strength to lay his hands vpon her. And it is not improbable but that she had dealt no better with others then these aboue mentioned. For M^r _Thomas Yonges_ of London, Fishmonger, reported vnto me, that after the demand of a debt due vnto M^r _Iohn Mason_, Silkeman of the same Citie, whose Widow hee married, from _Henry Smith_ Glouer her husband, some execrations and curses being wished vnto him, within three or foure dayes (being then gone to Yarmouth in Norfolke vpon necessary businesse) there fell sicke, and was tortured with exceeding and massacring griefes, which by no meanes (hauing vsed the aduise of sundry learned and experienced Physitians in Norwich) could in any part be mitigated, and so extraordinarily vexed thirteene moneths, was constrained to go on Crutches, not being able to feed himselfe, and amended not before this mischieuous woman was committed to prison (accused for other wickednesses of the like kinde) at which time (so neere as he could conjecture) he then receiued some release of his former paines, though at the present when hee made this relation, which was at Candlemas last past, had not perfectly recouered his wonted strength: for his left hand remained lame, and without vse. But thus much by the way onely, omitting how before this accident a great Water-dogge ranne ouer his bed, the doore of the chamber where he lay being shut, no such one knowne (for carefull enquiry was made) either to haue been in that houfe where hee lodged, or in the whole Towne at any time. I doe not insist vpon this, because shee did not nominate him or any other vnto vs, but onely those foure already expressed: and for the wrongs done to them, she craued mercy at Gods hands, as for all other her sins, and in particular for that of Witch-craft, renounced the Diuell, embraced the mercies of God purchased by the obedience of Iesus Christ, and professed that her hope was onely by his suffering and passion to bee saued. And all these, that is to say, her former grieuous offences committed against God, and his people, her defiance of the Diuell, and reposing all confidence of saluation in Christ Iesus alone, and his merits, she in particular maner confessed openly at the place of execution, in the audience of multitudes of people gathered together (as is vsuall at such times) to be beholders of her death. And made there also profession of her faith, and hope of a better life hereafter; and the meanes whereby she trusted to obtaine the same, as before, hath beene specified. And being asked, if she would be contented to haue a Psalm sung, answered willingly that she desired the same, and appointed it herselfe, _The Lamentation of a Sinner_, whose beginning is, _Lord turne not away thy face, &c_. And after the ending thereof thus finished her life: So that in the iudgement of charity we are to conceiue the best, and thinke shee resteth in peace, notwithstanding her heynous transgressions formerly committed: for there is no maladay incurable to the Almighty Physitian, _Esay 1. 18_ _Ezech. 33. 11_. Therefore _Caine_ did iniury to God, when conuicted of the barbarous and vnnaturall murther of his righteous brother, cryed out tht his sinne was greater then could be forgiuen, _Gen. 4. 13_ for _Gods_ mercy is greater then mans misery can be. And euen for the like vnto this very fact, we haue a booke case, already adiudged, and ouer-ruled in those _Ephesians_, who brought their coniuring bookes, sacrificed them in the fire, æstimated at the [b]value of nine hundred pounds of our money, repented of their[c] sinnes, and obtained mercy, _Acts 19. vers. 19_. [Footnote b: _Bud[e,]us de asse. lib. 5._] [Footnote c: The Ephesians were infamous for their Magicall practises, _Appollonius_ professing the same in the Citie, so that it grewe into a prouerb, +grammata Ephesia+ the Ephesian letters, which were certaine Characters and wordes, by vertue whereof they obtained good successe in all businesse, victory against others, euasion and escape from dangers; and as we reade in _Suidas_, a Milesian armed with these letters, ouer-came thirty Champions in the games of _Olimpus_, but being remoued by the Magistrate, hauing intelligence thereof, himselfe was subdued. Of these see _Athen[e,]us Deipnosophiston lib. 12._ _Hesichius_ in his _Lexicon._ _Plutarchus quæstionum conuiualium, lib 7. cap. 5_.] ¶ _The eight Proposition, and first consequent._ Now then from this premised narration, these two corrollaries or consequents do necessarily follow. It is not lawfull for any Christian to consult with a witch or wisard, or goe to them for helpe. God himselfe, whose commandement is and must be the rule of our life & direction hath forbidden it, _Leuit. 19. 31._ and _20. 6._ _Deuter. 18. 10.11_. And the Imperiall lawes, haue beene in this case verie respectiue.[a] Therefore, _Leo_ the Emperour straitly enioyneth, that none should resort vnto them, and stileth their aduice nothing but meere impostures and deceit; and in the [b]Decrees collected by _Gratian_, the teachers of the people are seriously exhorted to admonish them, that magicall arts and inchantments cannot heale any infirmity: and that they bee the dangerous snares, and subtilties of that ancient enemy of mankind, by which he indeuoureth to entangle them[c]: and these so streight and seuere prohibitions are not without iust and weighty cause. For, [Footnote a: _Cod lib. 9. titulo 18. L. nullus & L. Nemo._] [Footnote b: _Gratianus decretorum parte 2. caus. 26. qu. 7._] [Footnote c: _Danæus in dialogo de sortiarijs cap. 6._] First, wee must haue no commerce or dealing with the diuell, eyther directly and immediately, or mediately and indirectly; for we ought to haue our recourse to God alone in all distresses, and this is that which _Eliah_ spake with great indignation vnto the messengers of _Ahaziah_, who went to enquire of _Baal-zelub_, for the recouerie of their Lords health, _2. King. 1. 3_.[d] So that wee must not seeke to Sathan, or any of his ministers. For none can serue two maisters, _Matt. 6. 24_. But as religious _Iehosaphat_, when we know not what to doe, then lift vp our eyes to heauen, _2 Chron. 20. 12_. [Footnote d: _Martinus de Arles in tractatu de superstitionibus. Iohannes Gerson de erroribus circa artem magicam articulo 5._] Secondly, that help which any receiue from them bringeth destructon of our soules, for such as seeke for relief this way, make a[e] separation & departing from God, which is the death of the soule. And though it may be obiected, that some haue receiued benefite hereby, yet these are not one of tenne. And further, wee are not to iudge heerein of the lawfulnesse of these actions by the successe, but rest vpon the commaundement, for it falleth out sometime, that a thiefe and common robber by the high way, may liue in more aboundance, then those who with a lawfull and honest trade painefully maintaine themeelues, yet therefore hee is not iustified. And when wee haue recourse vnto others beside God, we bewray herein our [f]distrust, infidelitie, contempt and rebellion against him, which grieuous sinnes bring his wrath and eternall destruction. But let it be taken for granted, that wee may receiue good by them, yet this maxime is sure, & a truth vnrepealeable, which no distinction can elude; we must not doe euill that good may come thereof, _Rom. 3. 8._[g] yea, it were better to end our dayes in any extremitie whatsoeuer, then to vse these for our helpers. [Footnote e: In curing diseases the diuell respecteth two ends: the one, that he might seeme to keep the promise he hath made with those his slaues, and retaine them in their malicious practises and infidelity: the other, that hee might draw their faith and trust from God, who are thus healed by witches and wisards his instruments, and cast them downe headlong into destruction of their soules: or if they misse of hoped reliefe which often times so commeth to passe, God withstanding their attempts, then to wound their consciences, and driue them to despaire.] [Footnote f: _Nauarrus in Enchiridio siue manuali confessariorum cap 11._] [Footnote g: _Chrysost. cont. Iud[e,]os hom 6._] Thirdly, they[h] cure not diseases but in shew, except such as themselues haue inflicted, otherwise those doe returne, as is reported of _Adrianus_ the[i] Emperour, who troubled with a dropsie, by magicall charmes did oftentimes empty the water thereof, but in a short space increased againe; and perceiuing the same to grow worse & worse, sought to dispatch and rid himselfe of life, by poyson, or the sword, or some other desperate attempts. Or a worse malady (the first being abated) followeth: as I haue knowne one, who vsing the help of a wisard for the cure of a sore in his breast, prescribed in this sort: crossed the place affected with his thumb, and mumbled to himself some words in secret, after gaue the patient a powder like the ashes of wood, which was to be boiled in running water, and with it to wash the vlcer, after certaine clouts were to be applyed, with speciall care to lay that side of the clout vnto the sore, which was by him crossed, and marked; and all these clothes must at once be bound vpon it, and euery day the lowest remoued or taken away: thus in short time that anguish and griefe ceased; but not long after the party fell into a more grieuous infirmity, and still continueth therein. Or if the euill be taken from the[k] person presently afflicted, then is it layd vpon his friends children or cattell, and sometime it falleth to the lot of the witch herselfe, so that alwayes the diuell is a diuell, doing euill, and working mischiefe. [Footnote h: _Tatianus oratione tertia contra Græcos._] [Footnote i: _Xiphilinus ex Dion. in Adriano_ +manganeiais men te se kai goêtiais ekeonto pote tou hugrou, palin de autou epimplato.+] [Footnote k: Bodine proueth this by many examples in his _Dæmonomania_, _lib. 3. cap. 2_.] Fourth, a [l]wisard, witch, or sorcerer can not releeue any but by his or her inuocation, and help of the diuell, but this fact is absoluteIy, and without exception, wicked, and can by no limitation or circumstance bee made tolerable: Therefore they who require this at their hands, which they cannot performe without committing of sinne, be liable to the same vengeance and wrath of God to which they are; for not only the principall offenders, but the [m]accessaries, and consenters to their euill, are worthy of death, _Rom. 1. 32_. [Footnote l: _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum. Cardinalis Caietanus in summula titulo de maleficio. Toletus in summa casuum conscientiæ, sine instructione sacerdotum li. 4. c. 16._] [Footnote m: _Gratianus in Decretis parte 2, causa 26. qu[e,]st. 2. sect. Qui sine saluatore, &c._] Now before I conclude this poynt, because by these kinde of creatures, many toyes bee vsed, to shaddow and maske the diuells suggestion and workes, it shall not be amisse to mention some of them, and among the rest be [n]characters written or grauen in plates of mettall: and for these it is most certayne that Quantities haue no actiue qualitie; and therefore, if any expected successe according to desire doe follow in the vse thereof, it proceedeth from the illusion of Sathan, and is his worke, that hereby he might winne credite to his crafty fleights and conueyances, and procure to himselfe authority, establishing the kingdome of darknesse, withdraw men from resting vpon God, and reposing their trust in his almighty power, and boundlesse mercy, and sollicite them to expect helpe from him. There are besides these, other idle trifles (for they deserue no better name which are appoynted to be hung about the neck) for Amulets, as [o]powerfull and effectuall remedies against certayne diseases, and pictures made of gold, brasse, lead, wax, &c. which neyther haue nor can haue any other vertue, then that which they doe receiue from the matter wherof they be framed, for the figure worketh not as a cause of alteration; but if it bring to passe any other effect that is from the power of the diuell an old enemy, and craftie deluder of mankinde, and therefore, presupposeth a contract made with him: wherefore [p]_Antoninus Caracalla_ condemned those who vsed the same, for the helpe of Tertian and Quartan agues, and _Constantius_[q] decreeth such to be woorthy capitall punishment, and put to death. And that naturall couer wherewith some children are borne, and is called by our women, the sillie how, Midwiues were wont to sell to credulous Aduocates and Lawyers, as an especiall meanes to furnish them with eloquence[r] and perswasiue speech, and to stoppe the mouthes of all, who should make any opposition against them: for which cause one [s]_Protus_ was accused by the Clergie of Constantinople to haue offended in this matter. And _Chrysostome_ often accuseth Midwiues for reseruing the same to Magicall vses. And _Clemens[t] Alexandrinus_ giueth vs to vnderstand of one _Erecestus_, who had two inchaunted rings, so framed, that by the sound thereof he had direction for the fit time and oportunity in mannaging all the businesses hee intended, and yet notwithstanding was priuily murthered, though hee had warning giuen by that sound which was his vsuall instructer. Thus, none can escape the reuenging hand of God, which pursueth those who haue infeoffed themselues to such vanities, and are besotted with these vnlawfull curiosities. But among all other, charmes and inchaunting spells, haue gotten the start of the rest, which some think absolutely lawfull, and may vpon warrantise bee vsed, and pleade prescription for their iustification; for wee reade in _Homer_[u] that _Vlysses_ being wounded by words, stayed the flux of blood; and [x]_Cardanus_ tells vs, that himselfe cutting his lip, could by no meanes restraine the flowing blood, vntill he charmed it, and then presently stanched: but dare not affirm whether his owne confidence, or the words did make this restraint. I might adde to these, that infallible meanes (as is supposed) by finding out a thiefe with a Siue and a payre of Sheares, with that coniunction [y]_Dies, mies, Iescet, &c._ and the rest of such sencelesse and monstrous tearmes, a Riddle that _Oedipus_ himselfe could not vnfolde. But because this conceit of charming hath ouer-spread it selfe in this Sunneset of the world, and challengeth a lawfull approbation from the authority and practise of ancient [z]Physitians, yea and found some [aa]Diuines to be their Patrons respectiuely, and with clauses of mitigation, I thinke it very necessarie to shew the vnlawfulness thereof. Wherefore, [Footnote n: Of these characters and Images, _Iohn Gerson de erroribus circa art[~e] magicam dicto 3. litera O. Martinus de Arles de superstitionibus. Binfeldius in cõmentar. ad titulum Codicis de maleficis & mathematicis;_ and examples _Hector Boetius l. 2. historia Scotic[e,], de rege Duffo_, and _Thuanus_ lately in the reign of _Charles_ the ninth king of France in the 57. Books of the historie of his times.] [Footnote o: _Binfeldius in titulum codicis de maleficis & mathematicis. Martinus de Arles in tractatu de superstitionibus._] [Footnote p: _Spartianus in vita Antonini Caracallæ._] [Footnote q: _Ammianus Marcellinus lib. 19. non procul a fine, & lib. 29._] [Footnote r: _Lampridius in Antonino Diadumeo._] [Footnote s: _Balsamon in commentarijs ad conc. Constantinopolitanum in Trullo cap. 61._] [Footnote t: _Stromateon libr. 1. gestauit_ +duo daktôlious gegoêteumenous ouk apothanô de homôs dolophonêtheis kai toi prosêmênantos tou psophou.+] [Footnote u: _Odissea 19. vulnus Vlyssis_ +Autolukou philoi paides dêsan epistamenôs epaoidê de haima kelainon echethon.+ _Cato de re rustica. Plin. li. 28. ca. 2. Bodinus Dæmonomanias l. 2. c. 2._] [Footnote x: _De subtilitate libr. 18._] [Footnote y: _Georgius Pictorius in epitome de Magia. cap. 21._] [Footnote z: _Vide Ritherhusium in notis ad Malchum de vita Pythagoræ. Alexander Trallian. libr. 10. de colico affectu, in fine. Serenus Sammonicus de pr[e,]ceptis medicinæ cap. de Hemitritæo depellenda. Ioh. Langius epistolarum medicinalium lib. 1 epist. 33. & 34._] [Footnote aa: _Aquinas in summa secundæ quest. 96. articulo 4._] First, they had their originall and beginning from the diuell, who abode not in the truth, _Iohn 8. 44._ was cast downe with the apostata angels to hell, and deliuered into chaines of darkenesse, _2. Pet. 2. 4._ who enuying mans felicity receiued into grace after the [bb]fall, himselfe eternally reiected, omitted no occasion to weaken and ouerthrow the same, that the benefite thereof might come but to a few, and the greatest number perish with him for euer. Whereupon he endeuoured to inwrappe the weaker sort of that fraile corporation in superstitions, beguile them with doubtfull and false oracles, and bring to a forme of worshippe contrary to that which God had commaunded, [cc]whereby the world beganne to abound with Idolatry, disobedience, contempt, murthers, vncleanenesse, lusts, thefts, lying, and such like outrages: and that hee might with his infections impoyson them more dangerously, and soueraigne in their hearts, he vndertooke to worke wonders, imitating such miracles as God had done, and deuised cunningly many subtile sleights and legerdemaines, and for this end most blasphemously abused the glorious and holy name of God, and the word vttered by his mouth, and represented a false shew of those effects, which hee had wrought in nature: and heerein leuelled at two intentions, one to reproch God, and counterchecke his works; the other to ouer-mask and couer his owne secret traps and frauds, perswading men, that by the power of wordes these things were brought to pass, which must needes therefore be of great efficacie: seeing that the world & all things therein were so made of nothing; for he spake, and they were created, and thus practised to disgrace, and extenuate, that admirable and great worke of Creation, and cause men to make lighter account of the Creator, seeing that they also (instructed by him) were enabled thorow the pronunciation of certayne words contriued into a speciall forme, eyther to infuse new strength into things, or depriue them of that which formerly they had, or alter the course of Nature, in raysing tempests, stirring vp thunder and lightning; in [dd]taming serpents, and depriuing them of their naturall fiercenesse and venime, and cause wilde beasts to become meeke and tractable, yea in seeming to make sensible bodies; as cloudes, wind, raine & the like. And thus the diuell is that father who begot Charmes, and brought them foorth, not powerfull in themselues, but by that inter-league which hee hath with those who are invassaled vnto him. [Footnote bb: _De differentia inter Diabolos & homines peccatores Augustinus in Enchiridio cap. 28. & in suis ad illum cõmentarijs Lambertus Dan[e,]us._] [Footnote cc: _Peucerus de generibus Diuinationum & titulo de incantationibus._] [Footnote dd: _Frigidus in pratis cantando rumpitur anguis Virg. ecloga 8._] Secondly, God doth as straitly prohibit them, and seuerely punish the practisers thereof, as others offending in any exercise of vnlawfull arts, _Deut. 18. 10.11_. There shall not be found among you (instructing the Israelites his people) a charmer, &c. for these are abhomination vnto the Lord, &c. And this is recorded in the Catalogue of those sinnes of _Manasses_, by which hee sought to prouoke God vnto anger, _2. Kin. 21. 8._ _2. Chronicles 33. 6_. Thirdly, words haue no vertue,[ee] but either to signifie and expresse the conceits of the minde, or to affect the eares of the Auditors, so that they can worke nothing but in these two respects: first of the matter which is vttered by them, which vnderstood of the hearers, affect the mind diuersly, and that especially when there is ioyned with it a comelinesse of action and pronunciation, as wee we see oftentimes in the speeches of the Ministers of the Word, and in the pleadings of Orators. As when _Paul_ reasoned before _F[oe]lix_ and _Drusilla_ his wife, of Temperance, Righteousnesse, and Iudgement to come, hee trembled, _Acts 24. 25._ [ff]being guilty to himselfe of fraudulent and cruell dealing, of lasciuiousnesse and a filthy life, and therefore might iustly feare vengeance for the same. [Footnote ee: +rhêmata Blastêmata noêmatôn, & phônê+ _Etymologicis dicitur quasi_ +to phôs tou nou+. _De hac materia eruditissimè disputat Franciscus Valesius de sacra Philosophia, cap. 3._] [Footnote ff: _Pr[e,]fectus Iud[e,]æ impositus cuncta malefacta sibi impune ratus est, &c. Tacitus Annalium lib. 12. & historiæ lib. 5. per omnem sæuitiam ac libidinem ius regium seruili ingenio exercuit._] A like example to this is that in King _Agrippa_, though working vpon a better subject, _Act. 26. 28_. And if I may conioyne Diuine eloquence with Humane, it is memorable, that while [gg]_Tully_ pleaded before _Cæsar_ for _Ligarius_, accused by _Tubero_, to haue beene confederate with _Pompey_, purposing to put him to death, as an enemy, when the Orator altered, and in Rhetoricall manner inforced his speech, the other changed accordingly his countenance, and bewrayed the piercing words to be so affecting, that the supplications, when he came once to vrge and mention the battell of _Pharsalia_, (trembling and dismayed) did fall from his hands, hauing the passions of his minde extraordinarily moued, and absolued the offender. Or else when by their pleasantnesse, with delight they slide into the hearts of men, and rauish their affections: and thus it was with [hh]_Augustine,_ as he acknowledgeth of himselfe, that being at _Milaine_ where he was baptized by _S. Ambrose_, when he heard the harmony which was in singing of the Psalmes, the words pierced his eares, the truth melted his heart, his passions were moued, and showers of teares with delight fell from his eyes.[ii] But these effects are wrought onely in such who vnderstand that which is spoken, but neither of both these properties are to bee found in the Charmes of Wisards: besides, that they are conceiued and expressed in monstrous and vnknowne tearmes, not intelligible, and without signification: and therefore the effects they produce being[kk] supernaturall must proceed from that secret compact, the least made with the Diuell. [Footnote gg: +arxamenos legein ho kikerôn huperphuôs ekoinei+ _Plutarchus in Cicerone_.] [Footnote hh: _Aug. confessionum lib. 9. cap. 6 Quantum fleui in hymnis & cãtibus eius suauè sonãtibus Ecclesiæ tuæ vocibus commotus acriter? Voces ill[e,] influebant auribus meis, & liquebatur veritas tua in cor meum, & ex ea æstuabat affectus pietatis, & currebant lachrimæ & bene mihi erat cum ijs._] [Footnote ii: _Vide Aquinatem egregie de hac materia disputant[~e] Summa contra Gentes, lib. 43. cap. 105. & tuis Commentatorem Franciscum de Syluestris._] [Footnote kk: _Caietanus in summula in titulo: Incantatio. Toletus in summa causuum conscientiæ; sine instructione sacerdotum lib. 4. cap. 17._] Fourthly, these charmes are meere mockeries, and grosse abuses, both of God, and Men his creatures, I will giue you a taste of one or two, whereby you may iudge of the rest, for they came all out of one shoppe, and are fashioned in one forge, and haue the same workman or Artificer. [ll]An old woman crauing helpe for bleare eyes, had deliuered a Billet of Paper to weare about her necke, in which was written, _The Diuell pull out thine eyes_, and recouered. Anothere tied a scroule to a sicke man, full of strange Characters, with which were intermingled a few names of Diuels, as _Lucifer_, _Sathan_, _Belzebub_, _Oriens_, _Behal_, _Mammon_, _Beuflar_, _Narthin_, _Oleasar, &c._ and other of this sort; but what manner of blessing this was, and how likely to be medicinable, a Christian truely instructed in Gods word knoweth; and the Lord who is the father of mercies, and God of all comfort, preserue vs from such blasphemies, which are the Diuels Sacrifices. [Footnote ll: _Godelmannus in tractatu de magis, Veneficis &c. lib. 1. cap. 8. nº 25 & 27. vide Simonem Maiolum colloquiorum siue dierum caniculorum parte 2, colloquio 3._] Fifthly, the discreeter sort among the Heathen, by that small glimpse of naturall reason which they had, misliked of these things: [mm]And therefore _Cato_ among the rest of admonitions to the Bailiffe of his husbandry, giueth this charge, to aske no aduice of any Southsaier, Diuiner, Wisard, or Natiuity Calculator. [nn]And _Columella_ vtterly forbiddeth all acquaintance with Witches, wherby ignorant people are inforced to expence detestable Arts, and mischieuous deeds. [oo]_Hippocrates_ doth almost like a Christian discourse of this poynt, and condemne the whole practise of this Art, as iniurious vnto God, who onely purgeth sinnes, and is our preseruer; and for these fellowes who make profession of such wonder-working, brandeth them for Impostors and deceiuers. I conclude with that remarkeable saying of an ancient Diuine;[pp] These vanities doe separate and with-draw vs from God, though they may seeme to haue something in them to allure and delight vs; yet let no Christian entertaine them, whose hope ought to be setled in God alone. And if thou be in distresse, or afflicted with sicknesse of body, and feele no present release or comfort, what then? here is the tryall of thy patience, haue not recourse to superstitious and vnlawfull helpers, although they promise thee present remedy; and when they fore-tell thee of things which doe truely according to the prediction to fall out, beleeue them not, follow the example of Christ, who rebuked the Diuell, though he called him (as he was indeed) the Son of God. For vnder the vaile of truth he shadoweth falshood; euen as if one should sweeten with honey or sugar the brimme of the Cup wherein he bringeth poyson: But some will say, they call vpon the name of the Lord of Sabbaoth. Well, but this title they giue not to God, but to the Diuell: therefore betake thou thy selfe to God alone, craue health at his hand, and follow the Apostles direction; _If any bee sicke among you, let him call for the Elders of the Church, and let him pray_, Iames 5. 14. [Footnote mm: _Cato de rè rustica, cap. 5._] [Footnote nn: _Columella lib. 1. cap. 8._] [Footnote oo: _Libro de morbo sacro (siue illius sit, siue alterius, nam de authore apud eruditos dubitatio est) statim ab initio. & quædã huc pertinentiæ habet Theophrastus de plantis lib. 9. cap. 21._] [Footnote pp: _Procopius Gazeus in Leuiticum._] _The ninth Proposition, and second Corrolary._ There hath alwayes beene some wanton, or peruerse wits, who only to make triall of their skill, would take in hand to defend absurd positions, and commend both such things and persons, which were infamous, and contemptible as [a]_Phauorinus_ writ the praise of the Quartane Ague, one of the gout, blindnesse, and deafness, [b]_Lucian_ of a flye, [c]_Erasmus_ of folly, [d]_Synesius_ of baldnesse, [e]_Glaucus_ in _Plato_ of iniustice. And among the exercises of the [f]ancient Orators, wee finde those who strained all their vnderstanding to blaze the honour of that witlesse and deformed Coward _Thersites_. And this they haue performed with great Art and eloquence, onely to shew their faculty, but neuer in good earnest took such a matter in hand. And therefore more deeply is hee to be censured, who hath made himselfe an aduocate to plead the cause of [g]Witches, and defend th[~e] as innocent. And because this is a dangerous example, and doth draw those who are euill affected to offend, hoping for patronage of their impiety, I adde for conclusion this last proposition: Wisards, Witches, and the whole rabble of Sorcerers (no kinde excepted) are iustly liable[h] to extreame punishment. The arguments alleaged for proofe hereof, are many: I will make choyce of a few (with reference to such authors in whose writings more may bee found) and those which are most[i] demonstratiue. [Footnote a: _Phauorinus apud Agellium. lib. 17. cap. 12._] [Footnote b: _Luciani encomion musc[e,]._] [Footnote c: _Erasmus._] [Footnote d: _Synesius._] [Footnote e: _Lib. 2 de Republica._] [Footnote f: _Extat eius laudatio inter exempla exercitationum Rhetorum ab Henrico Stephano editarum cum Polemonis & Himerij declamationibus._] [Footnote g: _Wierus._] [Footnote h: _Simlerus in 22 Exodi._] [Footnote i: Of these all the following reasons. _Binfeldius de confessionibus maleficorum, & in Commentarijs ad titulum legis de maleficis & mathematicis copiosè. Remigius de D[e,]monologia, lib. 3. cap. vltimo. Peucerus de pr[e,]cipuis Diuinationum generibus. Erastus de Lamijs. Bodinus Dæmonomanias lib. 4. cap. 5._] First, God himselfe hath enacted that p[oe]nall statute, _Thou shalt not suffer a witch to liue. Exod. 22 18._ and nameth here a [k]woman practising this damnable Art for two reasons: First, they are more inclinable hereunto then man. Secondly, that though their fault may seeme, as being the weaker, excuseable, and is in this respect extenuated by some, yet is not therefore to bee spared, whether of that sort which they call [l]good, or bad (for so are they distinguished) & there be some who neuer brought[m] harme vpon any in body, goods, or minde. The cause of this so sharpe a doome, is their compacting with the Diuell, openly or secretly, whereby they couenant to vse his helpe, in fulfilling their desires, and by this meanes make themselues guilty of horrible impiety: for in this they renounce the Lord, who hath created them; make no account of his fauour and protection, cut themselues off from the couenant made with him in baptisme, from the communion of Saints, the true fellowship and seruice of God; and on the contrary yeeld themselues by this confederacy, to Sathan, as their God (and therefore nothing more frequent and vsuall in their mouthes, then my God will do this and that for me) him they continually feare and honour. And thus do at the last become professed enemies both to God and Man. You may adde to this former law, that which is _Leuit. 19. 26._ & _cap. 6_. _You shall vse no inchantment: the soule that turneth after such as haue familiar spirits, and are Wisards, to goe a whooring after them, I will set my face against that soule, and will cut him off from among his people, &c._ Againe, _Deut. 18. 10_. _There shall not bee found among you any that vseth Diuination, nor an obseruer of times, or an inchanter, or a Witch, or a Charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, a Wisard, or Necromancer._ And that God might shew how[n] much _Manasses_ had prouoked him to wrath, through his transcendent and outragious sinnes in the Catalogue thereof, his conspiring with Diuels is mentioned _1. King 21. 8_. And therefore is depriued of his kingdome, bound in fetters, and carried captiue vnto _Babel_, _2. Chron. 33. 6.11._ and though he repented of these outragious and enormious transgressions, yet God would not bee appeased for them fiftie yeares after he was dead, _Ierem. 15. 4._ [Footnote k: _Hironimus Oleaster in locum, & Iunius & Tremelius in eundem._] [Footnote l: _Perkins_ of Witch-craft.] [Footnote m: _Binfeldius in Commentarium ad titulum codicis de Mathematicis & Maleficis._] [Footnote n: _Godelmannus de Magis & veneficis, lib. 3. cap. 11. nº. 14. 15. 16. & seq._] Secondly, the ciuill lawes in this case are most strict, decreeing them to bee burned, and their goods confiscate, though they were persons of quality, and honourable, seated in dignity, and place of authority:[o] and there is a seuere constitution made by [p]_Charles_ the fift in late dayes against them, that though they shall not haue done, or be conuinced to haue hurt any, yet because they attempted a thing vnlawfull, and abhominable vnto God, are extraordinarily to be punished. And concerning this particular, S. _Augustin_ discourseth excellently, worthy to be read, _de ciu. dei. l. 8. c. 19._ [Footnote o: _Anonymus de Mosaicarum & Romanarum legum collatione titulo. 15._] [Footnote p: _Constitutiones criminales Caroli 5^i. à Georgio Ramo edita cap. 44. 109. & 177_ Such are exempted from all benefit of those pardons which Princes vse to giue to other malefactors. _Fornerius ad legem 236. in Titulo de verborum significatione, vide illum nam multa erudite scribit, ad propositum nostrum pertinentia._] Thirdly, God willeth those should bee put to death, who by Diabolical and vnlawfull Arts, do endeuour to helpe or harme others, whether in act they performe the same, or purpose with intention, conceiuing and thinking they can do it, with ranke Witches must needs be marshalled; and therefore iustly subiect to deserued punishment. Fourthly, all Idolaters are to dye by diuine appointment, _Deu. 17. 5_. But I thinke no mans forehead is so brasen, that will stand Proctor, and plead guiltlesse for these sort of people, who deuote themselues wholly to the Diuell, though neuer so closely, and with great and cautelous secresie: and no doubt God therefore was reuenged of the Templars, and their detestable wickednesse practised in darknesse and obscurity, who all[q] perished, as it were, in a moment for the same; of which at the full we may be informed in our owne ancient histories. [Footnote q: _Anno Domini_ 1312. whose order began 1123. _Thomas Walsingham_ in the life of K. _Edward_ the 2^d, in his English history, an in his _Hypodigma Neustri[e,]_.] Fifthly, they doe solicite others to be of their profession (which is one clause of that contract made betweene them and the Diuell) and consecrate their childen vnto him: and against this, there is an especiall caution put in _Deuteronomy 13. 6.9.10._ Sixtly, they deserue death as inhumane and barbarous tyrants, for lingringly _vt sentiant se mori_, that they may feele how they doe decay by degrees, seek the vtter ouerthrow of those whom they doe maligne: and as a further appendix to this, oftentimes by the helpe of their grand teacher, sowe discord betweene husband and wife, sollicite maydens, yea enforce both them, and married women to vncleane, and vnlawfull lusts, and heerein implore the helpe of the diuell, to accomplish their malicious designes, which trangression is capitall. Seuenthly, the exercise of this act or vanity is punishable by death, although it be practised but onely in sport and ieast, which appeare thus, because God hath seriously forbidden (and vnder no lesse forfeiture of life it self) to aske counsell of a Soothsayer or Coniurer; if this then be a crime of such nature, in those, who it may bee heerein thought not to doe euill, ther is no reason to induce any to thinke that hee will spare the wilfull, and purposed authors thereof, and Magitians, who worke onely iuggling trickes, and illusions, and fore-tell some future things, as yet vnknowne vntill they doe so fall out, are not freed from the sentence condemnatorie, much more then those who willingly, and vpon premeditated malice, murther or impaire the life and good estate of other, deserue to stand paralell with them. And there can no reson be yielded of this so sharp a censure, but onely because they haue learned, and accordingly exercise vnlawfull arts, for whosoeuer endeuoureth to bring that thing to passe, by pretending naturall meanes, which exceedeth the power of Nature, and is now thereunto enabled eyther by God, or the ministery of good Angells at his appoyntment, hee must of necessity haue this faculty communicated by some combination and inter league with the diuell. Eightly, the Iudge or ciuil Magistrate is bound by vertue of that office, and superioritie he sustaineth in the common-wealth, to purge and free that place, in, and ouer which he hath command, of all malefactors, which if he doe neglect, then is a double offender, against the Law both of Iustice and Charity; for hee is obliged by duety to foresee (so much as in him lyeth) that the publike state should be secured, which it concerneth to haue offenders punished, otherwise hee maketh himselfe partner with them in their outrages and offences, and standeth answerable for those damages sustained by the whole bodie of the people in generall, or vndergone by any particular of the same, for sparing of the wicked[r] is hurting the good, and hee that doth not represse and forbid euill (when it is in his power) doth countenance and maintaine it. [Footnote r: _Pythagoras apud Stobæum._] Much more might be added, and many examples produced, to manifest, how in all Nations these odious company of witches, and the like haue euer beene accounted detestable; and for their impious deedes requited with neuer dying shame, aud vtter confusion, and iustly by law executed; for among the Romans, Mathematitians,[s] and Magitians by the Decree of the Senate were expelled out of all Italy: and amongst these _Pituanus_ was throwne downe from the rock _Tarpeius_, and crushed apeeces. _Martius_ by the Consuls put to death with the sound of a Trumpet without the gate _Exquilina_: _Publicia_ and _Licinia_ women,[t] and seauenty more witches hanged. The [u]speedy judgement of the Athenians, witnesse of their hatred against these kinde of malefactors, is much commended, who without any other solemnity of proceeding at the onely accusation of a Maide, without delay put one _Lemnia_ a witch to death: and it is memorable which _Ammianus[x] Marcellinus_ hath left in record, that one _Hilarius_, because hee committed his sonne yong, and not of mature yeares, to be taught and instructed vnto a Coniurer, was adjudged to die, and escaping from the hands of the executioner, who had negligently bound him, drawne by force out of the next church of the Christians to which hee fled as vnto a Sanctuary, and executed. [Footnote s: _Tacitus annalium li. 2. & consule Lipsium in suis ad eum cõmentarijs._] [Footnote t: _Valerius Maximus li. 6. ca 3. Remigius Dæmonolog. l. 3. c. *_] [Footnote u: _Demosthenes orat. 1. contra Aristogitonem._] [Footnote x: _Libr. 16._ not farre from the beginning.] The end of [y]_Varasolo_, a famous Inchantresse in Hungarie is dreadfull, who for her sundry witcheries was cast into prison, and there constrayned through extremity of hunger, to reare off and eate the flesh of her owne legges and armes, and at the last, impatient of further delay, there murthered herselfe, and shortned the span of her life. [Footnote y: _Bonfinius rerum Hungaricarum decadis 2. libr. 2._] But here I stay my hand, take it from the table, and the rather, because much hath already beene spoken to this purpose. Wherefore, for conclusion, I shut vp this whole Treatise with a remarkeable speech of a noble [z]King; Let the streight rigor of law bee inflicted vpon all, both practisers and partakers with wisards, by putting any confidence in them; for it is vngodly for man to be remisse and fauourable vnto those whom diuine piety, and our duety to God will not suffer vnpunished. For what folly were it to forsake the Creator and Giuer of life, and to follow the author of death? this dishonest fact, vnbeseeming, and vtterly repugnant to the credite and reputation of a Iudge, be farre from him. Let none countenance that which the Lawes doe condemne, for all are by the Regall Edicts to bee punished with death, who intermeddle with such forbidden and vnlawfull Artes. [Footnote z: _Allaricus apud Cassiodorum li. 9 epist. 18. in qua edictum illius:_ and _Cornelius Agrippa_, sometime more then well acquainted with this Art, doth retract his owne books written of secret philosophy, & in plaine tearms and expresly giues his iudgement, that all these lewd women (for this title may include the whole rabble of this blacke Guard) with _Iannes_ and _Iambres_, and _Simon Magus_, are to be tormented with endlesse paines in eternall fire. _Cornelius Agrippa De vanitate Scientiarum ca. 48._] _FINIS._ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * [Typographic Errors and Anomalies: "Witchcraft" / "Witch-craft" The word occurs nine times with a hyphen, four times without, and three times at line breaks. The three line-break occurrences have been rendered here with hyphen. Capitalization is similarly varied. Dæmonomania, lib. 2 cap. * Irenæus contra hereses. lib. * cap. 9. Aug de Ciuit. Dei, lib. * cap. 35 Remigius Dæmonolog. // l. 3. c. * These text citations are either missing or illegible. _Introduction_ --and voluntarily acknowledged after conference had with me _text reads_ wit hme _First Proposition_ Footnote a: dangerous _text reads_ dangerons Footnote n: ...ta phrarmaka _so in text_ Footnote hh: Cicero ... de orato primo _text reads_ de de _Third Proposition_ Footnote a: Iaquerius flagelli Hereticorum fascinariorum _text reads_ fafcinariorum Footnote e: Ioh. Nider in præceptorio, præcepto 1. cap. 11. _text reads_ ...præcepto 1. ca. p11. Footnote f: Weirus de præstigijs dæmonum _so in original: elsewhere spelled_ Wierus --that it not onely sufficed the thirst of his distressed Souldiers _text reads_ dstiressed --and altogether / incredible, as of _Ericus_ _text reads_ incredible (as of _with no close parenthesis_ --would seeme to be meere fictions _text reads_ fictious --But through the cooperation of the Diuell _text reads_ thorugh Footnote aa: Iaquerius in flagello hereticorum fascinariorum _text reads_ fafcinariorum _Fourth Proposition_ --both _de esse_, and _de posse_, that there may be _text reads_ that that Footnote g: Godelmannus de magia ... lib. 1. cap. 2. xº.8.9.10 &c. _number illegible_ _Fifth Proposition_ Footnote e: Multa exempl[e,] habet Bodinus _so in original_ _Sixt(h) Proposition_ --the continuance, and the effect _text reads_ coutinuance Footnote g: Ceolcenus _so in original: misreading of handwritten "Cedrenus"?_ _Seventh Proposition_ --who commaunded that _Epicharis_ _text reads_ commannded _spellings "command" and "commaund" are equally common in text_ Footnote a: In Perkei ababboth. _so in original_ --such things as be not fitting and conuenient _text reads_ couenient --vnto the Philistines _catchword on previous page has "-stims"_ --Hitherto in some Propositions I haue set downe _text reads_ Popositions _Narrative of Mary Smith_ --being sent for to conferre with some learned and reuerend Diuines _text reads_ Diuiues --warrant a* foule sinne among Christians _illegible letter: possibly "as foule sinne" _Eight(h) Proposition_ --he had direction for the fit time and oportunity _text reads_ opoortunity _word occurs only once elsewhere; it is spelled "oportunity"_ Footnote aa: Aquinas in summa secundæ quest. 96. articulo 4. _text reads_ secundæ secundæ --but either to signifie and expresse the conceits of the minde _text reads_ bnt either --As when _Paul_ reasoned before _F[oe]lix_ and _Drusilla_ his wife _so in original: normal form of the name and word is "felix"_ Footnote hh: Aug. confessionum _text reads_ confessinum _Ninth Proposition_ --then my God will do this and that for me _text reads_ this aud that [o], [p] _footnote locations are conjectural: references missing from text_] [Problems in Text Citation and Greek Transcription: _The html version of this text addresses these problems in greater detail, and includes screen images of the more illegible passages._ _Preface_ Footnote d: inuentas esse has artes +pros ap..ên eleeinôn anthrôpôn tôn rhadiôs hupokleptomenôn eis tauta hupo tou diabolou.+ affirmat Cedrenus in historiæ compendio. _Reading unclear: +eleeinôn+ may be +helesin ôn+. The original text was unavailable to me._ _First Proposition_ Footnote f: eam aut[~e] +pentekên+ vocat Balsamon _Correct form is +penthektên+_ Footnote t: +kathaper empsuchou sômatos tôn spheôn exairetheisôn akreionas to holon: houtôs ex historias ean arês tên alêtheian, to kataloipomenon autês, anateles gignetai diêgêma+ _A more recent text (the 1893 Teubner) has +tôn opseôn exairetheisôn achreioutai+ in place of +tôn spheôn exairetheisôn akreionas+ and +anôpheles+ in place of +anateles+_ Footnote u: +Kaionos idiotês eutheia+ _Reading unclear: +Kaiones+ may be meant for a contraction of +kai aiones+. The original text was unavailable to me._ _Third Proposition_ Footnote m: hippomenes fætæ semina legit equæ. _A more recent text (the 1898 Teubner) has "hippomanes fetæ semina legit equæ."_ Footnote u: Nubilaque iudico... _Modern texts such as the 1907 Teubner give VII. 202 as "Nubilaque indico..." The word "iudico" does not fit the metre, and may be typographic error._ +ouranothen katagontes...+ _The wording was reconstructed with the aid of the Loeb text, which had no significant incompatible points_ _Fourth Proposition_ Footnote f: ...enormiter instigante si eius ob*quijs & arti magica obligauit... _Reading unclear: may be abbreviation for 'obsequiis' or 'obloquiis'. The text could not be identified._ _Fifth Proposition_ Footnote i: Hesiodus +ergôn kai hêmerôn+ lib. 1. D[e,]monas ait esse +aera essamenous+. _The text cited, Hesiod's _Works and Days_, is not divided into books. The words occur in l. 125, bracketed in the Loeb edition._ Footnote s: Sophocles in Trachinijs vocat +drun poluglôsson+, quia ut eius Scholiastes interpretatur... _The words occur in l. 1168. The scholia were unavailable to me._ _Eighth Proposition_ Footnote t: Stromateon libr. 1. gestauit +duo daktôlious gegoêteumenous ouk apothanô de homôs dolophonêtheis kai toi prosêmênantos tou psophou.+ _Reading unclear. The text (Clement of Alexandria, _Stromata_ bk. 1) was unavailable to me._ Footnote u: Odissea 19. vulnus Vlyssis +Autolukou philoi paides dêsan epistamenôs epaoidê de haima kelainon echethon.+ _The passage occurs at 19.455-458. The words are differently arranged but are essentially the same._ Footnote gg: +arxamenos legein ho kikerôn huperphuôs ekoinei+ _Plutarchus in Cicerone_ _A more recent text (the 191 Loeb) has +huperphuôs ekinei+. The last word is largely illegible; +ekoinei+ is the best guess._ ] 
39176	----	DELUSION; OR THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. By Eliza Buckminster Lee "There is in man a HIGHER than love of happiness: he can do without happiness, and, instead thereof, find blessedness."--SARTOR. BOSTON: HILLIARD, GRAY, AND COMPANY. 1840. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1839, BY HILLIARD, GRAY & CO. in the clerk's office of the district court of Massachusetts. PREFACE. The scenes and characters of this little tale are wholly fictitious. It will be found that the tragic interest that belongs to the history of the year 1692 has been very much softened in the following pages. The object of the author has not been to write a tale of witchcraft, but to show how circumstances may unfold the inward strength of a timid woman, so that she may at last be willing to die rather than yield to the delusion that would have preserved her life. If it is objected that the young and lovely are seldom accused of any witchcraft except that of bewitching hearts, we answer, that of those who were _actually_ accused, many were young; and those who maintained a firm integrity against the overwhelming power of the delusion of the period must have possessed an intellectual beauty which it would be vain to endeavor to portray. This imperfect effort is submitted with much diffidence, to the indulgence of the courteous reader. THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. CHAPTER I. "Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what there they found,-- Freedom to worship God." New England scenery is said to be deficient in romantic and poetic associations. It is said that we have no ruins of ancient castles, frowning over our precipices; no time-worn abbeys and monasteries, mouldering away in neglected repose, in our valleys. It is true that the grand and beautiful places in our natural scenery are not marred by the monuments of an age of violence and wrong; and our silent valleys retain no remnant of the abodes of self-indulgent and superstitious devotion; but the descendant of the Pilgrims finds, in many of the fairest scenes of New England, some memento to carry back the imagination to those heroic and self-sacrificing ancestors. His soul is warmed and elevated when he remembers that devoted company, who were sustained amid hardship and every privation, on the trackless ocean, and in the mysterious and appalling solitudes of the forest, by a firm devotion to duty, and an all-pervading sense of the immediate presence of God. The faults of our ancestors were the faults of their age. It is not now understood--and how wide from it was the conviction then!--that _even_ toleration implies intoleration. Who is to judge what opinions are to be tolerated? He whom circumstance has invested at the moment with power? The scene I wish to describe was on the borders of one of the interior villages of New England,--a mountain village, embosomed in high hills, from which the winter torrents, as they met in the plain, united to form one of those clear, sparkling rivers, in whose beautiful mirror the surrounding hills were reflected. The stream, "winding at its own sweet will," enclosed a smooth meadow. At the extremity of the meadow, and shadowed by the mountain, nestled one of the poorest farm-houses, or cottages, of the time. It was black and old, apparently containing but two rooms and a garret. Attached to it were the common out-houses of the poorest farms: a shed for a cow, a covering for a cart, and a small barn were all. But the situation of this humble and lonely dwelling was one of surpassing beauty. The soft meadow in front was dotted with weeping elms and birches; the opposite and neighboring hills were covered to their summits with the richest wood, while openings here and there admitted glimpses of the distant country. A traveller coming upon this solitary spot, and seeing the blue smoke curling against the mountain side, would have rejoiced. There is something in the lonely farmhouse, surrounded with its little garden, and its homely implements of labor, that instantly touches our sympathy. There, we say, human hearts have experienced all the changes of life; they have loved and rejoiced, perhaps suffered and died. The interior consisted of only two rooms. In the ample chimney of that which served for the common room, was burning a bright flame of pine knots; for, although it was the middle of summer, the sun sank so early behind the hills, and the evenings were so chilly, that the warmth was necessary, and the light from the small window cheered the laborer returning late from his work. An old man sat by the chimney, evidently resting from the labors of the day. He was bent by time, but his brilliant eye and his flowing gray locks gave a certain refinement to his appearance, beyond that which his homely garments would warrant. A woman, apparently as aged as himself, sat by the little window, catching the last rays of evening, as they were reflected from her white cap and silvery hair. Before her was a table on which lay a large Bible. She had just placed her spectacles between the leaves, as she closed it and resumed her knitting. These two formed a picture full of the quiet repose of old age. But there was another in the room,--a youth, apparently less than twenty, kneeling before the flaming pine, over the leaves of a worn volume that absorbed him wholly. The ruddy flame imparted the glow of health to a countenance habitually pale. Over his dark, enthusiastic eye was spread a clear and noble brow, so smooth and polished that it seemed as if at seventy it would be as unwrinkled as at seventeen. His piercing eye had that depth of expression that indicates dark passions or religious melancholy. He was slender in form, and very tall; but a bend in the shoulders, produced by agricultural labor, or by weakness in the chest, impaired somewhat the symmetry of his form. They had been silent some moments. The young man closed his worn volume, an imperfect copy of Virgil, and walked several times, with hurried steps, across the little room. At length he stopped before the woman, and said, "Mother, let me see how much your frugal care has hoarded. Let me know all our wealth. Unless I can procure another book, I cannot be prepared for the approaching examination. If I cannot enter college the next term, I never can. I must give up all hope of ever being any thing but the drudge I am now, and of living and dying in this narrow nook of earth." "No, no, my son," answered the woman; "if my prayers are heard, you will be a light and a blessing to the church, though I may not live to see it." The young man sighed deeply, and, taking the key she gave him, he opened an old-fashioned chest, and, from a little cup of silver tied over with a piece of leather, he poured the contents into his hand. There were several crowns and shillings, and two or three pieces of gold. Apparently the examination was unsatisfactory, for he threw himself into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. The old woman rose after looking at him a few moments in silence, and laid her hand gently on his shoulder. "My son," she said, "where is the faith that sustained your ancestors when they left all their luxuries and splendor, their noble homes for conscience' sake. Yes, my son, your fathers were among the distinguished of England's sons, and they left all for God." "Mother," said he, "would that they had been hewers of wood and drawers of water. Then I should have been content with my lot. Mother, all your carefully hoarded treasure will not be enough to pay my first term in college. Without books, without friends, I must give up the hope of an education," and the large tears trickled between his fingers. "You forget," she said, "your good friend at C. who has lent you so many books. Why not apply to him again?" A deep blush flushed the young man's countenance, but he made no answer, and seemed to wish to change the subject. "It is almost evening," he said; "shall we not have prayers?" and, placing himself near the window to catch the last rays of departing daylight, he read one of the chapters from the Old Testament. The aged man, who had not spoken during the discussion, stood up and prayed with great fervency. His prayer was made up, indeed, by quotations from the Old Testament, and he used altogether the phraseology of the Scriptures. He prayed for the church in the wilderness, "that it might be bright as the sun, fair as the moon, beautiful as Tirzah, and terrible as an army with banners;" "that our own exertions to serve the church and our strivings after the Holy Spirit might not be like arrows in the air, traces in the sea, oil upon the polished marble, and water spilt upon the ground." He asked for no temporal blessing; all his petitions were in language highly figurative, and he closed with a prayer for his grandson, "that God would make him a polished shaft in the temple of the Lord, a bright and shining light in the candlestick of the church." When he had finished his prayer,--"My son," he said, "do not be cast down; you forget that the great Luther begged his bread. The servants of the church, in every age, have been poor and despised; even the Son of God," and he looked reverently upwards, "knew not where to lay his head. _You_ have only to labor. The peat at the bottom of the meadow is already dry; there is more than we shall need for winter fuel; take it, in the morning, to C----, and with the produce buy the book you need." "No," said the young man, "there are many repairs necessary to make you and my grandmother comfortable for the winter. I cannot rob you of more. I can borrow the book." He lighted his lamp, made from rushes dipped in the green wax of the bay bush, which affords a beautiful, but not brilliant flame, and went up a few steps to his chamber in the garret. The old woman gathered the ashes over the kindling coal, and, with her aged partner, retired to the bed-room opposite the narrow entrance. CHAPTER II. "Deep thought oft seemed to fix his infant eye; Silent when glad, affectionate, though shy: And now his look was most demurely sad, And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbors stared and sighed, yet blessed the lad; Some deemed him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad." Beattie. Our young student retired to his garret, a small room in the roof of the cottage, heated by the summer sun resting on its roof almost to the heat of a furnace. One small window looking towards the east admitted the evening breeze. In the remotest corner was a low and narrow pallet, by the side of which hung the indispensable articles of a man's apparel. A small table, covered with ink spots, and a solitary chair stood in the centre of the little apartment. A few deal shelves contained the odd and worn volumes of the student's library. A Greek Testament, several lexicons, half a volume of Horace, lay scattered on the table. Virgil was the book he had brought with him from the pine-knot torch, and it was the old Grecian, Homer that he was so anxious to possess. The uncarpeted floor was thickly strewn with sheets half written over, and torn manuscripts were scattered about. Wherever the floor was visible, the frequent ink spots indicated that it was not without mental agitation that these manuscripts had been produced. It was not to repose from the labors of the day that the young man entered his little chamber: to bodily labor must now succeed mental toil. He cast a wistful look towards his little pallet; he longed to rest his limbs, aching with the labor of the day; but no; his lamp was on the table, and, resolutely throwing off his coarse frock, he sat down to think and to write. Wearied by a long day of labor, the student in vain tried to collect his thoughts, to calm his weakened nerves. He rose and walked his chamber with rapid steps, the drops of heat and anguish resting on his brow. "Oh!" said he, "that I had been content to remain the clod, the toil-worn slave that I am!" Little do they know, who have leisure and wealth, and all the appurtenances of literary ease--the lolling study-chair, the convenient apartment, the brilliant light--how much those suffer who indulge in aspirations beyond their lowly fortune. The student sat down again to write. His hands were icy cold, while his eyes and brow were burning hot. He was engaged on a translation from the Greek. His efforts to collect and concentrate his thoughts on his work, exhausted as he was with toil, were vain and unavailing. At length he threw down his pen. "Oh God!" thought he, "is this madness? am I losing my memory, my mind?" Again he walked his little room, but with gentler steps; for he would not disturb his aged relatives, who slept beneath. "Have I deceived myself?" he said; "were all my aspirations only delusions, when, yet a boy, I followed the setting sun, and the rainbow hues of the evening clouds, with a full heart that could only find relief in tears?--when I believed myself destined to be other than a hewer of wood and a drawer of water, because I felt an immeasurable pity for my fellow-men, groping, as I did myself, under all the evils of ignorance and sin? Was it only vanity, when I hoped to rise above the clods of the earth, and aspired to have my lips, as Isaiah's, touched by a coal from the holy altar? Was it only impatience at my lot which destined me to inexorable poverty?" "Let me not despair of myself;" and he took from his table a manuscript of two or three sheets, and began to read it. As he went on, his dissatisfaction seemed to increase. With the sensitiveness and humility of true genius, when under the influence of despondency, every line seemed to him feeble or exaggerated; all the faults glared out in bold relief; while the real beauty of the composition escaped his jaded and toil-worn attention. "Oh Heaven!" he said, "I have deceived myself; I am no genius, able to rise above the lowliness of my station. The bitter cup of poverty is at my lips. I have not even the power to purchase a single book. Shall I go again to my good friend at C----? Shall I appear as a beggar, or a peasant, to beg the trifling pittance of a book?" A burning blush for a moment passed over his pale countenance. "Will they not say, and justly, 'Go back to your plough; it is your destiny and proper vocation to labor?'" He sat down on the side of his little pallet, and burst into tears. He wept long, and, as he wept, his mind became more calm. The short summer's night, in its progress, had bathed the earth in darkness, and cooled the heated roof of his little apartment. The night breeze, as it came in at his window, chilled him, and he rose to close it. As he looked from his little window, the dawn was just appearing in the east, and the planet Venus, shining with the soft light of a crescent moon, was full before him. "O beautiful star!" he thought, "the same that went before the sages of the East, and guided them to the manger of the Savior! I aspire only to be a teacher of the sublime wisdom of that humble manger. Let me but lift up my weak voice in his cause, and let all worldly ambition die within me. '---- Thou, O Spirit! who dost prefer, Before all temples, th' upright heart and pure,' I consecrate my powers to thee." The morning breeze, as it blew on his temples, refreshed him. The young birds began to make those faint twitterings beneath the downy breast of the mother, the first faint sound that breaks the mysterious silence of early dawn. He turned from the window; the rush-light was just expiring in its rude candlestick. He threw himself on his bed, and was soon lost in deep and dreamless slumbers. CHAPTER III. "I give thee to thy God,--the God that gave thee A well-spring of deep gladness to my heart! And, precious as thou art, And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee! My own, my beautiful, my undefiled! And thou shalt be his child." While the student sleeps, we will make the reader acquainted with his short and simple annals. His maternal grandfather had been among the Puritan emigrants who sought the rock-bound coast of New England. He was a man of worth and property, had been educated at Oxford, and distinguished for classical learning and elegant pursuits. But at the call of conscience he left the luxurious halls of his fathers, the rank, and ancestral honors that would have descended to him, to share the hardships, privations, and sufferings of the meanest of his companions. He brought with him his wife and an only child, a daughter of twenty years. Like her mother, she had been carefully nurtured, and had lived in much luxury, although in the strict seclusion of the daughters of the Puritans. The wives and daughters of the Pilgrims have never been honored as they deserved to be. Except the Lady Arbella Johnson, is there a single name that has descended with pride and honor to their daughters, and been cherished as a Puritan saint? It is true they lived in an age when the maxim that a woman should consider it her highest praise to have nothing said about her was in full force; and when the remark of Coleridge would have been applauded, "That the perfection of a woman's character is to be _characterless_." But among the wives of the Pilgrims there were heroic women that endured silently every calamity. Mrs. Hemans says, with poetry and truth,-- "_There_ was woman's _fearless_ eye, Lit by her deep love's truth." But how many _fearful_ days and nights they must have passed, trembling with all a mother's timidity for their children, when they heard the savage cry, that spared neither the touching smile of infancy, nor the agonized prayer of woman! They had left the comforts, and even the luxuries, of their English homes,--the hourly attendance of servants, to meet the chilling skies of a shelterless wilderness. She whose foot had trodden the softest carpets, whose bed had been of down, who had been accustomed to those minute attentions that prevent the rose-leaf from being crumpled, must now labor with her own hands, endure the cold of the severest winter, and leave herself unsheltered; all she asked was to guard her infant children from suffering, and aid by her sympathy, her husband. It is indeed true, that the sentiment of love or religion has power to elevate above all physical suffering, and to ennoble all those homely cares and humble offices that are performed for the beloved object with a smile of patient endurance; and it asks, in return, but confidence and tenderness. The wife of Mr. Seymore soon sank under the hardships of the times, and the severity of the climate of New England. Her grave was made in the solitude of the overshadowing forest, and her daughter, who had brought with her a fine, hardy, English constitution, lived to console her widowed father. He died about five years after his wife, and then his daughter married an Englishman of small fortune, who had come over with his family: his father and mother, both advanced in life, had settled on the small farm we have attempted to describe. He built the cottage for his parents, and then, with his wife, the mother of our young friend Seymore, returned to England. She lived not long after her return. The religious enthusiasm of the time had taken possession of her mind, and, before her death, she dedicated this, her only child, to the service of the church, and requested her husband to send him to America, where poverty presented no insurmountable barrier to his success. His father, in sending him to America in his twelfth year, promised to advance something for his education; but unfortunate circumstances prevented, and the boy was left to make his own fortune under the roof of his grandparents. His disappointment was great to find his grandparents in so narrow circumstances, and himself condemned to so obscure a station. He had aspirations, as we have seen, beyond his humble circumstances. The few books he brought with him were his consolation. They were read, reread, and committed to memory; and then he longed for more. An accident, or what we term an accident--the instrument that Providence provides to shape our destiny--threw some light upon the gloom that seemed to have settled on his prospects. He met at C----, where he had gone on some business connected with his agricultural labors, the clergyman of the place. Mr. Grafton was interested by his fine intellectual expression, and pleased with the refined and intelligent remarks that seemed unsuited to his coarse laborer's frock and peasant's dress. He took him to his house, lent him the books that were necessary to prepare him for our young college, and promised his aid to have him placed on the list of those indigent scholars who were devoted to the church. From this time his industry and ambition were redoubled, and we have seen the poor aspirant for literary distinction striving to unite two things which must at last break down the body or the mind,--heavy daily labor, with severe mental toil at night. He was young and strong; his health did not immediately fail, and we must now leave him where thousands of our young men have been left, with aspirations and hopes beyond their humble fortunes. CHAPTER IV. "Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath! When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death: Wind of the sunny south, O, still delay!" BRYANT. It was the close of one of those mild days at the end of October, that we call the Indian summer, corresponding to the St. Martin summer of the eastern continent, although the latter is wanting in some of the essential elements of beauty that belong to ours. The sun was setting in veiled and softened light, while a transparent mist, like a silver gauze, was drawn over woods and hills and meadows. The gorgeous robe of autumn gave to the landscape an air of festivity and triumph, while the veil of mist, and the death-like silence, seemed as if happy nature had been arrested in a moment of joy, and turned into a mourner. The intense stillness pressed on the heart. No chirp of bird or hum of insect broke the deep silence. From time to time a leaf, "yellow and sere," loosened, as it were, by invisible fingers from the stem, lingered a second on its way, and fell noiselessly to the earth. In the deep distant wood, the sound of the ripe nuts as they fell, and, at long intervals, the shrill cry of the squirrel, came to the ear, and interrupted the revery of the solitary wanderer. The scene I would describe was bounded on one side by high rocks and the vast ocean, but sloping towards the land into soft and undulating beauty. A noble river was on one side, and on the promontory thus formed, were left some of the largest trees of the forest that covered the whole country when our fathers first arrived. Although so near the ocean, the scene had a character of tranquil sylvan beauty strangely contrasted with the ocean when agitated by storms. One of the largest villages of the time was on the opposite bank of the river; but, as there was no bridge, the place I would describe was almost as solitary as if man had never invaded it. The trees upon it were the largest growth of elm and oak, and seemed left to shelter a single dwelling, a house of moderate size, but which had much the appearance of neatness and comfort. A few rods from the house, and still nearer the headland, stood the plain New England meeting-house of that period,--square, barn-like, unpainted, solitary, but for the silent tenants of its grave-yard. A grass-grown path connected the church with the dwelling-house, and the overshadowing trees gave to the spot an air of protection and seclusion unknown to modern New England churches. At one of the windows of this modest dwelling, that looked towards the setting sun, which now bathed the whole scene in yellow light, was a young woman who might have seen seventeen summers. She was slightly but well formed, and, had it not been for her fresh and radiant health, she would have possessed that pensive, poetic expression that painters love. She was not indeed beautiful, but hers was one of those countenances in which we think we recall a thousand histories,--histories of the inward life of the soul,--not the struggles of the passions; for the dove seemed visibly to rest in the deep blue liquid eye, brooding on its own secret fancies. By the fire sat a gentleman whose countenance and gray hair showed that he was approaching the verge of threescore years and ten, and his black dress indicated his profession. His slippers and pipe presented a picture of repose from the labors and cares of the day; and, although it had been warm, a fire of logs burned in the large old-fashioned chimney. The furniture of the room, though plain, and humble, had been kept with so much care and neatness that it was seen at once that a feminine taste had presided there, and had cherished as sacred the relics of another age. The occupants of the room were father and daughter. A portrait over the fireplace, carefully guarded by a curtain, indicated that he was a widower, and that his child was motherless. They had both been silent for a long time. The young lady continued to watch with apparent interest some object from the window, and the old man to enjoy his pipe; but at last the night closed in, and the autumn mist, rising from the river, veiled the brilliancy of the stars. The daughter drew near the table, and seated herself by her father: her countenance was pensive, and a low sigh escaped her. Her father laid his hand tenderly on her head: "My poor child," he said, "I fear your life is too solitary; your young heart yearns for companions of your own age. True, we have few visitors suited to your age." Edith looked up with a smile on her lips, but there was a tear in her eye, called there by her father's tender manner. "And where," continued he, "is our young friend the student? It is long since he came to get another book. I fear he is timid and sensitive, and does not like that you should see his poor labor-swollen hands; but _that_ he should be proud of,--far more proud than if they were soft, like yours." Edith blushed slightly. "Father," she said, "I want no companion but you. Let me bring your slippers. Ah! I see Dinah has brought them while I have been gazing idly at the river. It shall not happen again. What book shall be our evening reading? Shall I take up Cicero again, or will you laugh at the Knight of the rueful Countenance." How soon is ingenuous nature veiled or denied by woman. Edith thus tried to efface the impression of her sigh and blush, by assuming a gayety of manner which was foreign to her usual demeanor, and which did not deceive her father. "We must go and find out our young friend," pursued her father. "He has much talent, and will surely distinguish himself, and he must not be suffered to languish in poverty and neglect. The first fine day, my daughter, we will ride over and visit him." Edith looked her gratitude, and the long autumn evening wore pleasantly on. It was at the time when slavery was common in New England. At the close of the evening, Paul and Dinah, both Africans, entered, and the usual family prayers were offered. At the close of the prayer, the blacks kneeled down for their master's blessing. This singular custom, though not common to the times, was sometimes practised; and those Puritans, who would not bend the knee to God except in their closets, allowed their slaves to kneel for their own blessing. They went to Edith, who kissed Dinah on both dark cheeks, and gave her hand to Paul, and the family group separated each to his slumbers for the night. The head of the little group we have thus described was one of the most distinguished of the early New England clergymen. He had been educated in England, and was an excellent classical scholar; indeed, his passion for the classics was his only consolation in the obscure little parish where he was content to dwell. He had been early left a widower, with this only child, and all the affections of a tender heart had centred in her. The mildness of his disposition had never permitted him to become either a bigot nor a persecutor. He had been all his life a diligent student of the human heart, and the result was tolerance for human inconsistencies, and indulgence for human frailties. At this time accomplishments were unknown except to those women who were educated in the mother country; but such education as he could give his daughter had been one of his first cares. He had taught her to read his favorite classics, and had left the mysteries of "shaping and hemming," knitting and domestic erudition, to the faithful slave Dinah. Edith had grown up, indeed, without other female influence, relying on her father's instructions, as far as they went, and her own pure instincts, to guide her. The solitude of her situation had given to her character a pensive thoughtfulness not natural to her age or disposition. Solitude is said to be the nurse of genius, but to ripen it, at least with woman, the sunny atmosphere of love is necessary. Genius is less of the head than of the heart: not that we belong to the modern school who believe the passions are necessary to the developement of genius;--far from it. The purest affections seem to us to have left the most enduring monuments. Among a thousand others, at least with woman, we see in Madam De Sevignè that maternal love developed all the graces of a mind unconscious certainly of its powers, but destined to become immortal. Our heroine, for such we must try to make her, had grown up free from all artificial forms of society, but yearning for associates of her own age and sex. After her father, her affections had found objects only in birds and animals, and the poor cottagers of one of the smallest parishes in the country. Living, as she did, in the midst of beautiful nature, and with the grandeur of the ocean always before her, it could not fail to impart a spiritual beauty, a religious elevation, to her mind that had nothing to do with the technical distinctions of the day. Edith Grafton was formed for gentleness and love, to suffer patiently, to submit gracefully, to think more of others' than of her own happiness. She was the light and joy of her father's hearth, and the idol of her faithful slaves, and she possessed herself that "peace that goodness bosoms ever." CHAPTER V. "The mildest herald by our fate allotted Beckons! and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us, with a gentle hand, Into the land of the departed,--into the silent land. Ah, when the frame round which in love we cling, Is chilled by death, does mutual service fail? Is tender pity then of no avail? Are intercessions of the fervent tongue A waste of hope?" WORDSWORTH. The two slaves that completed the evening group had been brought into Mr. Grafton's family at the time of his marriage. Dinah was the most striking in personal appearance. She had been born a princess in her native land; and her erect and nobly-proportioned form had never been crushed by the feeling of abject slavery. From the moment they entered the family of Mr. Grafton, they were regarded as children, even the lambs of the flock. They were both at that time young, and soon entered into the more intimate relation of husband and wife; identifying their own dearest interests, and making each other only subordinate to what seemed to them even more sacred,--their devotion to their master and mistress. Dinah's mind was of a more elevated order than Paul's, her husband. If she had not been a princess in her own country, she belonged to those upon whose souls God has stamped the patent of nobility. Naturally proud, she was docile to the instructions of her excellent mistress; and her high and imperious spirit was soon subdued to the gentle influences of domestic love, and to the purifying and elevating spirit of Christianity. Her mistress taught her to read. The Bible was her favorite book; and she became wise in that best wisdom of the heart, which is found in an intimate knowledge of the Holy Scriptures. Her character, under the burning sun of Africa, would have been intolerable; but it was tempered to a soft moonlight radiance, by the shading of Christianity. Though her imperious spirit at first rebelled against slavery, there was no toil, no fatigue, no menial service, however humble, which she would not have sought for those she loved. Love elevated every toil, and gave it, in her eyes, the dignity of a voluntary and disinterested service. She had been the only nurse of her kind mistress through her last long illness. Hers was that faithful affection that preferred long vigils at the bedside through the watches of the night,--the nurse that the sleepless eye ever found awake. Hers was that sentient sympathy that could interpret the weary look,--that love that steals into the darkened room, anticipating every wish, divining every want, and which, in silence, like the evening dew on drooping flowers, revives and soothes the sufferer. Her cares were unavailing: her kind mistress died, commending the little Edith to her watchful love. Dinah received her as if she had been more than the child of her own bosom. Henceforth she was the jewel of her life; and, if Mr. Grafton had not interposed, she would have treated her like those precious jewels of the old Scottish regalia, that are said to be approached by only one person at a time, and that by torch-light. Our forefathers and foremothers had a maxim that the will of every child must be early broken, to insure that implicit and prompt obedience that the old system of education demanded. Mr. Grafton wisely left the breaking of the little Edith's will to Dinah. As we have seen, she was of a gentle temper, but, as a child, determined and obstinate. Obstinacy in a child is the strength of purpose which, in man and woman, leads to all excellence. Before it is guided by reason, it is mere wilfulness. It was wonderful with what a silken thread Dinah guided the little Edith. She possessed in her own character the firmness of the oak, and an iron resolution, but tempered so finely by the influences of love and religion, that she yielded to every thing that was not hurtful; but there she stopped, and went not a hair's breadth further. It was beautiful to see the little Edith watching the mild and loving but firm eye of Dinah,--which spoke as plain as eye could speak,--and, when it said "_No_," yielding like a young lamb to a silken tether. Nothing is easier than to gain the prompt obedience of a young child. Gentleness, firmness, and steadiness, are all that is requisite. Gentleness, firmness, and steadiness,--the two last perhaps the rarest qualities in tender mothers. When a young child finds its mother uniform--not one day weakly indulgent, and the next capriciously severe, but always the same mild, firm being--she is to the child like a beneficent but unchanging Providence; and he no more expects his own will to prevail, than children of an older growth expect the sun to stand still, and the seasons to change their order, for their convenience. As soon as the little girl was old enough, she became the pupil of her father. Under his instruction, she could read the Latin authors with facility; and even his favorite Greek classics became playfully familiar as household words, although she really knew little about them. But the Christian ethics came home more closely to her woman's heart: their tender, pure, self-denying principles were more congenial to the truly feminine nature of the little Edith. The character and example of her mother were ever held up to her by Dinah. At night, after her little childish prayer, when she laid her head on her pillow, her last thought was of her mother. Ah, it is not necessary to be a Catholic, to believe in the intercession of saints. To a tender heart, a mother lost in infancy is the beautiful Madonna of the church; and the heart turns as instinctively to her as the devout Catholic turns to the holy mother and child. In all Edith's solitary rambles, her pensive thoughts sought her mother. There was a particular spot in the evening sky where she fancied the spirit of her mother to dwell; and there, in all her childish griefs, she sought sympathy, and turned her eye towards it in childlike devotion. CHAPTER VI. Where now the solemn shade, Verdure and gloom, where many branches meet; So grateful, when the noon of summer made The valleys sick with heat? Let in through all the trees, Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright: Their sunny-colored foliage, in the breeze, Twinkles like beams of light. BRYANT. A few days after the evening before mentioned, Edith and her father prepared for their little journey, to visit the young student. It was a brilliant morning in the very last of October. All journeys, at this time, were made on horseback: they were mounted, therefore, Mr. Grafton on a sedate old beast, that had served him many years, and Edith on the _petite fille_ of this venerable "ancestress,"--gentle, but scarcely out of its state of coltship. The Indians, at this time, were much feared, and the shortest excursions were never undertaken without fire-arms. Paul, as well as Mr. Grafton, was well armed, and served them as a guard. As soon as they had left their own village, their course was only a bridle-path through the forest; and the path was now so hidden with the fallen leaves, that it was sometimes indicated only by marks on the trees. The trees were almost stripped of their foliage, and the bright autumn sun, shining through the bare trunks, sparkled on the dew of the fallen leaves. It was the last smile of autumn. The cold had already commenced. No sound broke the intense stillness of the forest but the trampling of their horses' feet as they crushed the dry, withered foliage. The sky was intensely blue, and without a cloud. The elasticity of the air excited the young spirits of Edith. She was gay, and, like a young fawn, she fluttered around her father, sometimes galloping her rough little pony in front, and then returning, she would give a gentle cut with her whip to her father's horse, who, with head down, and plodding indifference, regarded it no more than he did a fly. Mr. Grafton, delighted with his daughter's playfulness, looked at her with a quiet, tender smile: her gayety, to him, was like the play of her infancy, and he delighted to think that she was yet young and happy. Edith had ridden forward, and they had lost sight of her, when she came galloping back, pale as death, and hardly able to retain her seat from terror. "Edith, my child," said her father, "what has happened?" She could only point with her finger to a thin column of blue smoke that curled above the trees. Mr. Grafton knew that it indicated the presence of Indians, at this time the terror of all the inhabitants. "No doubt they are friendly, my dear child," said Mr. Grafton; and he sent Paul, who was armed, forward to reconnoitre. Paul soon returned, showing his white teeth from ear to ear. "The piccaninnies," he said. Mr. Grafton and Edith rode forward, and in a little hollow at the foot of a rock, from which bubbled a clear spring, a young Indian woman, with a pappoose at her feet, was half reclining; another child, attached in its birch cradle to the pendent branch of an elm tree, was gently rocked by the wind. A fire was built against the rock, and venison suspended before it to roast. It was a beautiful little domestic scene, and Mr. Grafton and Edith stopped to contemplate it. They soon learned that the husband of the Indian was in the forest; but he was friendly, and, after exchanging smiles, Edith dismounted. She sat on the grass, caressing the young pappoose, and talked with the mother in that untaught, mute language that young and kind hearts so easily understand. This little adventure delayed them so long that it was past noon when they reached the secluded farmhouse we have described in the first chapter of our little tale. The old man was sitting at the door, enjoying the kindly warmth of the declining sun. Seymore was not far off, at work in his laborer's frock. A vivid blush of surprise, and pleasure, and shame, covered his temples and noble brow, as he came forward to meet them. Edith, quick in her perceptions, understood his feelings, and turned aside her head while he drew off his laborer's frock. This gave an appearance of embarrassment to her first greeting, and the vivid delight faded in a moment from his brilliant countenance, and a melancholy shade passed over it. They entered the house, and Edith endeavored to remove the pain she had given, by more marked attention to Seymore; but simple and sincere, ignorant as she was of all arts of coquetry, it only increased the bashfulness of her manner. The family had already dined; but, after some delay, a repast was prepared for the travellers; and, before they were ready to depart, the long shadows of the opposite hills brought an early twilight over the little valley. Mr. Grafton looked at his daughter; he could not expose her to a dark ride through the forest; and the pressing invitation of the good old people, that they should stay the night, was accepted. After much pleasant talk with the enthusiastic young student, to which Edith listened with deep interest, Mr. Grafton was tasked to his utmost polemical and theological knowledge by the searching questions of the old Puritan. Like douce Davie Deans, he was stiff in his doctrines, and would not allow a suspicion of wavering from the orthodox standard of faith. But Edith soon gave undeniable evidence that sleep was a much better solacer of fatigue than theological discussions; and, after the evening worship had been scrupulously performed, a bed was prepared for Mr. Grafton on the floor of the room where they sat, for he would not allow the old people to give up theirs to him. Seymore gayly resigned his poor garret to Edith, and slept, as he had often done before, in the hayloft. Slept? no; he lay awake all night thinking how lovely Edith looked in her riding _Joseph_,[1] which fitted closely to her beautiful shape, and a beaver hat tied under the chin, to confine her hair in riding. She was the angel of his dreams. But why did she turn aside when they met? and the poor student sighed. [Footnote 1: We have in vain endeavored to find the etymology of this name. It might first have been of many colors, and named from the coat of the patriarch's favorite son.] Edith looked around the little garret with much interest, and some little awe. There were the favorite books, heaps of manuscripts, and every familiar object that was so closely associated with Seymore. Nothing reveals so much of another's mind and habits, as to go into the apartment where they habitually live. The bed had been neatly made with snowy sheets, and some little order given to the room. Edith opened the books, and read the marked passages; the manuscripts were all open, and with the curiosity of our mother Eve, she read a few lines. She colored to the very temples as she committed this fault; but she found herself irresistibly led on by sympathy with a mind kindred to her own; and when she laid her head on the pillow, tears of admiration and pity filled her eyes. She lay awake, forming plans for the student's advancement; and, before sleep weighed down her eyelids, she had woven a fair romance, of which he was the hero. Ah, that youth could be mistress of the ring and the lamp! then would all the world be prosperous and happy. But wisdom and experience, the true genii, appear in the form of an _aged_ magician, who has forgotten the beatings of that precious thing, the human heart. The next morning, when they were assembled at their frugal breakfast, Seymore said, "I fear you thought, from the frequent ink-spots on my little garret, that, like Luther, I had thrown my ink-bottle at the devil whenever he appeared." "I hope," said Edith, "you have not thrown away all its contents; for I had some charming fancies last night, inspired, I believe, by that very ink-bottle." Seymore blushed; but he did not look displeased, and Edith was satisfied. The next morning was clear and balmy, and, soon after breakfast, they mounted their horses for their return. There are few things more exhilarating than riding through woods on a clear autumnal morning; but Edith felt no longer the wild gayety of the previous morning. With a thoughtful countenance, she rode silently by her father's side when the path would permit, or followed quietly when it was too narrow. "You seem to have found food for thought in the student's garret, my dear," said her father. Edith blushed slightly, but did not answer. They had accomplished about half their journey, when Mr. Grafton proposed turning off from the direct path to visit an old lady,--a friend of Edith's mother, an emigrant of a noble family from the mother country. Edith followed silently, wondering she had never heard her father mention this friend of her mother before. They soon after emerged from the forest upon open fields, cleared and cultivated with unusual care. A beautiful brook ran winding in the midst, and the whole domain was enclosed in strong fences of stone. About midway was built a low, irregular, but very large farmhouse. It consisted of smaller buildings, connected by very strong palisades; and the whole was enclosed, at some distance, by a fence built of strong timbers. It was evidently a dwelling designed for defence against Indians. They entered the enclosure by an iron gate, so highly wrought and finished that it must have been imported from the mother country. Edith found herself in a large garden, that had once been cultivated with much care and expense. It had been filled with rose-bushes, honeysuckles, and choice English flowers; but all was now in a state of neglect and decay. The walks were overrun with weeds, the arbors in ruins, and the tendrils of the vines wandering at their own wanton will. It seemed as if neglect had aided the autumn frost to cover this favorite spot with the garb of mourning. There was no front entrance to this singular building; and the visitors rode round to a low door at the back, partly concealed by a pent roof. After knocking several minutes, it was opened by a very old negro, dressed in a tarnished livery, with his woolly hair drawn out into a queue, and powdered. He smiled a welcome, and, with much show of respect, led them through many dark passages to a low but very comfortable room. The walls were hung with faded tapestry; and the low ceiling, crossed with heavy beams, would have made the apartment gloomy, but for two large windows that looked into the sunny garden. The sashes were of small, lozenge panes of glass set in lead; while the bright autumn sun streamed through, and shone with cheerful light on the black oak furniture, and showed every mote dancing in its beams. Edith looked around with surprise and delight. A lady not much past the meridian of life came forward to greet them. She was dressed in an olive-colored brocade, with a snowy lawn apron and neckerchief folded across her breast. The sleeve reached just below the elbow, and was finished with a ruffle, and black silk mitts met the ruffle at the elbow. A rich lace shaded her face, and a small black velvet hood was tied closely under the chin. The lady's manner was rather stately and formal, as she greeted Mr. Grafton with all the ceremony of the old school of politeness, and looked at his daughter. "She is the image of her mother," said Lady C----. "She is a precious flower," answered Mr. Grafton, looking at Edith with pride and affection, as she stood, half respectful, half bashful, before the lady. "You have called her Mary, I hope,--her mother's name." "No," answered Mr. Grafton; "I have but _one_ Mary,"--and he looked upwards. Edith pressed closer to her father. "Call me Edith, madam," she said, with a timid smile. Lady C---- smiled also, and was soon in earnest conversation with Mr. Grafton. Edith was engaged in examining a room so much more elegant than any she had seen before. Her eyes were soon attracted by a full-length portrait on the opposite side of the apartment. It was a lady in the bloom of youth, dressed in the costume of the second Charles. It was evidently an exquisite work of art. To Edith, the somewhat startling exposure of the bust, which the fashion of the period demanded, was redeemed by the chaste and nunlike expression of the face. Tender blue eyes were cast down on a wounded dove that she cherished in her bosom; and the long, dark eyelash shaded a pale and pensive cheek. Edith was fascinated by this beautiful picture. Who was she? where did she live? what was her fate? were questions hovering on her lips, which she dared not ask of the stately lady on the couch; but, as she stood riveted before it, "O that I had such a friend!" passed through her mind; and, like inexperienced and enthusiastic youth, she thought how fondly she could have loved her, and, if it were necessary, have sacrificed her own life for hers. Lady C---- observed her fixed attention. "That is a portrait of the Lady Ursula," she said, "who built this house, and brought over from England the fruits and flowers of the garden. Alas! they are now much wasted and destroyed." At this moment, the old negro appeared, to say that the dinner was served. They passed into another low room, in the centre of which was a long oaken dining-table, the upper end raised two steps higher than the lower, and the whole was fixed to the floor. At this time, the upper end only was covered with a rich damask cloth, where the lady and her guests took their seats; the other half of the table extending bare beneath them. "In this chair, and at this table, the Lady Ursula was wont to dine with her maidens and serving-men," said Lady C----, as she took her seat in a high-backed, richly-carved chair of oak; "and I have retained the custom, though my serving-men are much reduced;" and she glanced her eye on the trembling old negro. Edith thought how dreary it must be to dine there in solitary state, with no one to speak to except the old negro, and she cast a pitying look around the apartment. A beauffet was in one corner, well filled with massive plate, and the walls were adorned with pictures in needle-work, framed in dark ebony. The picture opposite Edith was much faded and defaced, but it was meant to represent Abraham offering his son Isaac in sacrifice. "It was the work of the Lady Ursula's fingers," said Lady C----, "as every thing else you see here was created by her." "Is she now living?" asked Edith, very innocently. "Alas! no, my dear; hers was a sad fate; but her story is too long for the dining hour;" and as dinner was soon over, they returned to the other apartment. Edith longed for a ramble in the garden. When she returned, the horses were at the door, and she took a reluctant leave, for she had not heard the story of the Lady Ursula. As soon as they had turned their horses' heads outside the iron gate, Edith began her eager questions: "Who was that beautiful woman, the original of the portrait? Where did she live? How did she die? What was her fate?" Her father smiled, and related the following particulars, which deserve another chapter. CHAPTER VII. "Loveliest of lovely things are they On earth, that soonest pass away. Even love, long tried, and cherished long, Becomes more tender, and more strong, At thought of that insatiate grave From which its yearnings cannot save. "But where is she, who, at this calm hour, Watched his coming to see? She is not at the door, nor yet in the bower: He calls,--but he only hears on the flower The hum of the laden bee." BRYANT. "The Lady Ursula was the daughter of an English nobleman, the proprietor of Grondale Abbey. She was betrothed, in early life, to a young man, an officer in the army. As she was an only daughter, and inherited from her mother a large fortune, her father disapproved of her choice, and wished her to ally herself with the heir of a noble family. He was rejoiced, therefore, when a war broke out, that obliged Col. Fowler to leave the country with his regiment, to join the army. "The parting of the lovers was painful, but they parted, as the young do, full of hope, and agreed to keep up a very frequent correspondence. "For a year, his letters cheered his faithful mistress; but then they ceased, and a report of his death in battle reached her. Her father then urged the other alliance. This the Lady Ursula steadily refused; and she was soon after relieved from all importunity, by the death of her father. "She was an only daughter, but her father left several sons. His estate belonged to the eldest, by entail, and the younger brothers, having obtained large grants of land in this country, determined to emigrate to the new world. "The Lady Ursula, disappointed of all her cherished hopes, after much reflection, decided to accompany them, and become an actual settler in the wilderness. "She purchased a large farm on this beautiful part of the coast, and as she was much beloved by her dependents, she persuaded a large number to unite their fortunes with hers. She brought out twenty serving-men, and several young maidens, and created a little paradise around her. The garden was filled with every variety of fruit and flower then cultivated in England, and the strong fence around the whole was to protect her from the Indians. "At the time the Lady Ursula came to this country, she very much resembled the beautiful portrait that has charmed you so much. It was painted after she parted from her lover, and was intended as a present for him, had she not soon after heard of his death." "You have seen her, then, my dear father," said Edith. "You knew the beautiful original of that lovely portrait." "I scarcely knew her," said Mr. Grafton. "Soon after I came to this country, I was riding, one day, near a part of her estate. The day was warm and sultry: under some large spreading oaks a cloth was laid for a repast. I stopped to refresh my horse, and soon after I saw the lady approach, drawn in a low carriage. "She had brought her workmen their dinner, and after it was spread on the grass, she turned her beautiful eyes towards heaven, and asked a blessing. She then left her men to enjoy their food, and returned as she came, driving herself in a small poney chaise. "Among the maidens who came over with her from England was one who had received a superior education, and was much in her lady's confidence. This young girl was often the companion of her lady's solitary walks about her estate. One evening they were walking, and the Lady Ursula was relating the circumstances of her early life, and said that till this time she had never parted with all hope; she had cherished unconsciously a feeling that her betrothed lover might have been a captive, and that he would at length return. The young girl said, 'Why do you despair now, my lady? that is a long lane that has no turning.' The lady smiled more cheerfully. 'My bird,' she said, 'you have given me a name for my estate. In memory of this conversation, it shall be called _Long Lane_;' and it has always retained that name. "The dews were falling, and they returned to the house. Her men and maidens were soon assembled, and the Lady Ursula herself led the evening devotions. They were scarcely ended, when a loud knocking was heard at the gate. It could not be Indians! No; it was a packet from England; and, O joy unspeakable! there was a letter from her long-lost friend and lover. He had been taken prisoner when half dead on the field of battle, had been removed from one place of confinement to another, debarred the privilege of writing, and had heard nothing from her. But the war was ended, there had been an exchange of prisoners, and he hastened to England, trembling with undefined fears and joyful anticipations. He would embark immediately, and follow his mistress to the new world, where he hoped to receive the reward of all his constancy. "The lady could not finish the letter: surprise, joy, ecstasy,--all were too much for her, and the Lady Ursula fainted. As soon as she recovered, all was bustle and excitement through the house. The lady could not sleep that night, and she began immediately to prepare for the arrival of her lover. He said he should embark in a few days; she might therefore expect him every hour. "Every room in the house was ornamented with fresh flowers. A room was prepared for her beloved guest, filled with every luxury the house could furnish; and her own portrait was placed there. "She was not selfish in her joy: she told her men to get in the harvest: for when _he_ arrived, no work should be performed; there should be a jubilee. A fatted calf was selected, to be roasted whole: and every one of her large household was presented with a new suit of clothes. 'For this my _friend_,' she said, 'was lost, and is now found; was dead, and is alive again.' "When all was ready, the Lady Ursula could not disguise her impatience. She wandered restlessly from place to place, her eye brilliant, and her cheek glowing. At every sound she started, trembled, and turned pale. "Her men were at work in a distant field; and she determined again, as usual when they were far from home, to carry them their dinner. When she took her seat in the little carriage, she said, 'It is the last time, I hope, that I shall go alone.' "The repast was spread, and they all stood around for the blessing from the lips of the lady. It was remarked by her men that she had never looked so beautiful: happiness beamed from her eyes, and her usually pale cheek was flushed with joy. She folded her hands, and her meek eyes were raised. At that moment, a savage yell was heard; an Indian sprung from the thicket. With one blow of his tomahawk the Lady Ursula was leveled to the ground, and, in less than a moment, her long, fair hair was hanging at his girdle. The Indian was followed by others; and all but one of her faithful servants shared the fate of their mistress." Mr. Grafton paused; Edith's tears were falling fast. "What became of her lover?" she said, as soon as she could speak. "He arrived a few days after, to behold the wreck of all his hopes, and returned again, heart-broken, to England." "And the picture," said Edith; "why did he not claim it, and take it with him, to console him, as far as it could, for the loss of his beautiful bride?" "As she had made no will," said Mr. Grafton, "all the Lady Ursula's estate belonged to her own family. The lady we have visited to-day is a daughter of her brother." Edith continued silent, and heeded not that the shades of evening gathered around them. She was pondering the fate of the Lady Ursula. That one so young, so beautiful, so good, should lead a life of sorrow and disappointment, and meet with so sudden and dreadful a death, weighed on her spirits; for Edith had not yet solved the mystery of life. The sun had long set, when they reached their own door. Dinah had prepared the evening meal, and the cheerful evening fire; and Edith smiled her thanks. As she helped her young mistress to undress, she said, "How pale you are, and how tired! You need a sweet, refreshing sleep to rest you again." When Edith laid her head on the pillow, she called her humble friend to her: "Ah, Dinah," she said, "I have heard a story that makes me think there is no happiness on this earth." Dinah had heard the story of the Lady Ursula. "Was it not too sad, that she should meet that dreadful fate just as her lover returned, and she was going to be so happy?" Dinah thought it was very sad. "But the lady was pure and good: the words of prayer were on her lips, and she went straight to heaven without much pain. Had she married and gone to England, she might have become vain and worldly; she might have lost the heavenly purity of her character." "Yes," said Edith; "and Col. Fowler, having lived so long in the army, might not have loved her as well as she thought he did. Ah, who could live without love?" Dinah thought many could and did. "Women depended too much," she said, "on their affections for happiness. Strong and deep affections were almost always disappointed; and, if not, death must come and sever the dearest ties;" and she stooped down and kissed Edith's hand, which she held in hers. Poor Dinah! she little knew how entirely her own heart was bound up in Edith. "But what can we live for, if not for love?" said Edith. "For many things," answered Dinah, in her simple and quiet manner; "to grow better ourselves, and to do good to others; to make sacrifices, and to love _all_ good works." "I should not wish to live, were I to lose my father, and you, and"--Edith paused, and closed her eyes. Dinah drew the curtain, and bid her, softly, "good night." Edith could not sleep. She was reflecting on the fate of the Lady Ursula. With Dinah's assistance, she had begun to solve the mysteries of Providence;[2] "Without, forsaking a too earnest world, To calm the affections, elevate the soul, And consecrate her life to truth and love." [Footnote 2: The story of the Lady Ursula is founded on fact. In the author's youth, the farm of "Long Lane" retained its name, and belonged to the C---- family.] CHAPTER VIII. "A little cottage built of sticks and weeds, In homely wise, and walled with sods around, In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weedes And wilful want, all careless of her needes; So choosing solitairie to abide. Far from all neighbours." SPENSER. I wish I were a painter, or a poet, to describe a little sheltered nook on the sea-shore, where devotion would retire to worship, love to dwell in thought on the beloved, or sorrow to be soothed to rest. It was a small cove, sheltered on the north by high, overhanging cliffs, that ran out into the ocean in a bold headland. Opposite these rocks the land sloped gently down, and the ocean, lulled to rest, came in like a spent and wearied child, and rippled on a smooth, white sand. The top of the cliff was covered with many-colored shrubbery. The drooping branches of the birch, the sumac, and the aspen, tinted with the rich coloring of autumn, hung half way down the cliff, and were reflected, like a double landscape, in the water. At sunset, the entire glassy surface was burnished with the red and yellow rays of the setting sun; and when the young moon, like a fairy boat, just rested on the surface, it was a scene of beauty that could not be surpassed in any country. Immediately under the cliff, and sheltered like a swallow's nest, was the smallest of human habitations; so dark, and old, and moss-grown, that it seemed a part of the rock against which it rested. It consisted of one room: a door and single pane of glass admitted the light, and the nets hanging around, and an old boat drawn up on the beach, indicated that it was the shelter of a fisherman. The Indian summer still continued, and a few mornings after the little journey, Edith was induced, by the soft beauty of the weather, to visit the cove. It was a walk of two miles, but the inhabitants of the cottage were among the poor of her father's parish, and she was never a stranger in their cottages. The brilliant sun gave to the ever-changing ocean the tints of emerald green, royal purple, crimson, and sapphire, and made a path of light, fit for angels' footsteps. The tide was out, and the smooth beach glittered in the morning sun. The ocean, as far as the eye could reach, was smooth as glass. It was not then, as now, white with the frequent sail: a solitary vessel was then a rare occurrence, and hailed with rapture, as bringing news from _home_. The white-winged curlew was wheeling around in perfect security, and the little bay was dotted, in a few spots, with fishermen's boats. The absence of the old boat from the beach showed that the owner of the cottage was among them. Edith was sorry her friend the fisherman was absent, for the old woman who kept his house was a virago; and, indeed, was sometimes thought insane. Although Edith's moral courage was great, she possessed that physical timidity and sensitiveness to outward impressions that belongs to the poetic temperament. She lingered in her walk, watching the curlews, and listening to the measured booming of the waves as they touched the shore and then receded. The obvious reflection that comes to every mind perhaps came to hers, that thus succeed and are scattered the successive generations of men. No; she was thinking that thus arrive and depart the days of her solitary existence; thus uniformly, and thus leaving no trace behind. Will it be always thus? she sighed; and her eyes filled with tears. Her revery was interrupted by a rough voice behind her. "What have you done, that God should grant you the happiness to weep?" said the old woman, who now stood at her side. Edith was startled, for the woman's expression was very wild, but she answered mildly, "Is that so great a boon, mother, that I should deserve to lose it?" "Ask her," she said, "whose brain is burning, and whose heart is like lead, what she would give for one moist tear. O God! I cannot weep." Whatever timidity Edith felt when she first saw the malignant expression of the old woman's countenance, was now lost in pity. She knew that the poor creature's reason was impaired, and she thought this might be one of her wild moments. She laid her hand gently on her arm, and said, with a smile, "Nanny, I have come on purpose to visit you. Let us go into the house, and you shall tell me what you think, and all you want to make you comfortable for the winter." Nanny looked at Edith almost with scorn. "Tell you what I think!" she said. "As well might I tell yonder birds that are hovering with white wings in the blue sky. What do you know of sorrow? but you will not always be strangers. Sorrow is coming over you; I see its dark fold drawing nearer and nearer." A slight shudder came over Edith, but she smiled, and said, soothingly, "I came to talk with you about yourself; let my fate alone for the present." "Ah! no need to shake the glass," answered Nanny; "grief is coming soon enough to drink up your young blood. The cheek that changes like yours, with sudden flushing, withers soonest; not with age, no, not, like mine, with age, but blighted by the cold hand of unkindness; and eyes, like yours, that every emotion fills with sudden tears, soon have their fountains dry, and then, ah! how you will long and pray for one drop, as I do now!" They had entered the poor hovel, and the old woman, who had been speaking in a tone of great excitement, now turned and looked full at Edith: her beauty seemed to awake a feeling of envious contempt. The contrast between them was indeed great. Edith stood in the narrow door, blooming with youth and health. Her dark hair, which contrasted so beautifully with her soft blue eye, had lost its curl by the damp air, and she had taken off her bonnet to put back the uncurled tresses. The old woman had seated herself in an old, high-backed chair, and, with her elbows on her knees, looked earnestly at Edith. Her face might once have been fair; but it was now deeply wrinkled, and bronzed with smoke and exposure. Her teeth were gone, and her thin, shriveled lips had an expression of pain and suffering; while her eyes betrayed the envy and contempt she seemed to feel towards others. "Ah," she said, "gather up your beautiful shining locks. How long, think you, before they will be like mine? But mine were once black and glossy as yours; and now look at them." She took down from under her cap her long, gray hair, and spread it over her breast. It was dry and coarse, and without a single black hair. She laid her dark, bony hand on Edith's white arm. "Sorrow has done this," she said,--"not time: it has been of this color for fifty years." "And have you then suffered so much?" said Edith,--and her eyes filled with tears. The old woman saw that she was pitied, and a more gentle expression came into her eyes, as she fixed them on Edith. "My child," she said, "we can learn to bear sorrow, bereavement, the death of all that are twined with our own souls, old age, solitude,--all but remorse--_all but remorse_;" and the last word was pronounced almost in a whisper. "And cannot you turn to God?" said Edith; "cannot you pray? God has invited all who are sinners to come to him." She stopped; for she felt her own insufficiency to administer religious consolation. "And who told you I was so great a sinner?" said the old woman, all her fierceness returning immediately. Edith had felt herself all the comfort of opening her heart in prayer to God; but she was abashed by the old woman: she said only timidly and humbly, "Why will you not confide in my father? Tell him your wants and your misery, and he will pray for you, and help you." "Tell him! and what does he know of the heart-broken? Can he lift the leaden covering from the conscience? Can he give me back the innocence and peace of my cottage home in the green lanes of England, or the blessing of my poor old father?" And, while an expression of the deepest sadness passed over her face,--"Can he bring back my children, my beautiful boys, or bid the sea give up its dead? No, no; let him preach and pray, and let these poor ignorant people hear him; and let me,--ah, let me lie down in the green earth." Edith was shocked; and the tears she tried in vain to suppress forced themselves down her cheeks. "Poor child!" said the old woman; "you can weep for others, but yours is the fate of all the daughters of Eve: you will soon weep for yourself. With all your proud beauty and your feeling heart, you cannot keep your idols: they will crumble away, and you will come at last to what I am." Edith tried to direct her attention to something else. She looked around the cottage, which had not the appearance of the most abject poverty. The few articles of furniture were neat, and in one corner stood a comfortable-looking bed. A peat fire slumbered on the hearth, and many dried and smoked fish were hanging from the beams. She said, very mildly, "I came, Nanny, to see if you did not want something to make you comfortable for the winter. My father sent me, and you must tell me all you want." "I want nothing," said the old woman; "at least for myself. All your blankets cannot keep the cold from the heart." At this moment, a little girl about five years old came running into the cottage, with a basket of blackberries she had been picking on the cliffs above the house. Edith was well known to her, as she was to all the children of the parish. The little girl went up to her and presented the blackberries, and then ran to her grandmother with the air of a favored child, as if she were sure of a welcome. An expression that Edith had never seen, a softened expression of deep tenderness, came over the face of the old woman. "I was going to speak of this child," she said. "I feel that I shall soon be _there_,"--and she pointed towards the earth,--"and this child has no friend but me." The little girl, meantime, had crept close to the old woman, and laid her head on her shoulder. The child was not attractive: her feet and legs were bare, and her dress was ragged and much soiled; but covering her eyes and forehead was a profusion of golden-colored ringlets; and, where her skin was not grimmed with dirt and exposure to the sea air, it was delicately white. There was something touching in the affection of the poor orphan for the old woman; and the contrast, as they thus leant on each other, would have arrested the eye of a painter. Edith promised to be a friend to her grandchild, and then entreated Nanny to see her father, and confide her sorrows to him. This she steadily refused; and Edith left her, her young spirits saddened by the mystery and the grief that she could not understand. As she walked home, she thought how little the temper of the old woman was in harmony with the external beauty that environed her. The beauty was marred by sin and grief. And even in her own life, pure as it was, how little was there to harmonize with the exquisite loveliness around her! Edith was not happy: the inward pulse did not beat in harmony with the pulse of nature. She was not happy, because woman, especially in youth, is happy only in her affections. She felt within herself an infinite capacity of loving, and she had few to love, Her heart was solitary. Her affection for her father partook too much of respect and awe; and that for Dinah had grown up from her infancy, and was as much a matter of habit as of gratitude. She longed for the love of an equal, or rather of some one she could reverence as well as love. How she wished she could have been the companion of the Lady Ursula! Edith was beginning to feel that she had a soul of infinite longings; but she had not yet learnt its power to create for itself an infinite and immortal happiness; and the beauty of nature, that excited without filling her mind, only increased her loneliness. It is after other pursuits and other friends have disappointed us, that we go back to the beautiful teachings of nature; and, like a tender mother, she receives us to her bosom. "O, nature never did betray The heart that loved her." She alone is unchangeable. We may confide in her promises. I have planted an acorn by a beloved grave: in a few years I returned, and found a beautiful oak overshadowing it. Nature is liberal and impartial as she is faithful. The green earth offers a home for the eyes of the poorest beggar; the soft and purifying winds visit all equally; the tenderly majestic stars look down on him who rests in a bed of down, and on him whose pallet is the naked earth; and the blue sky embraces equally the child of sorrow and of joy. The teachings of nature are open to all. The poor heart-broken mother sees, in the parent leaves that enfold the tender heart of the young plant, and in the bird that strips her own breast of its down to shelter her young from the night air, the same instinct that teaches her to cherish the child of sorrow. He who addressed the poor and illiterate drew his illustrations from nature: the lily of the field, the fowls of the air, and the young ravens, he made his teachers to those who, like him, lived in the open air, and were peculiarly susceptible to all the influences of nature. To return from this digression. Perhaps my readers will wish to know more of poor Nanny, as she was called. Nothing was known of her early history. She had come from the mother country four years before, with this little child, then an infant, and had taken a lodging in the poor fisherman's hut. She said the little girl was her grandchild, and all her affections were centred in her. She was entirely reserved as to her previous history, and was irritated if any curiosity was expressed about it, though she sometimes gave out hints that she had been an accomplice and victim of some deed for which she felt remorse. As she was quite harmless, and the inhabitants were much scattered, she was unmolested, and earned a scanty living by picking berries, fishing, and helping those who were not quite as poor as herself. Edith visited her often, and Mr. Grafton, though she would not acknowledge him as a spiritual guide, ministered to all her temporal wants. CHAPTER IX. Thou changest not, but I am changed, Since first thy pleasant banks I ranged; The visions of my youth are past, Too bright, too beautiful, to last. BRYANT. More than two years had passed since Edith's visit to the old woman of the cliff. Changes had taken place in all the personages of my little tale; but in Edith they were most apparent. She who had sung all day as the birds sing, because she could not help it, at nineteen had learned to reflect and to analyze; a sensitive conscience had taken the place of spontaneous and impulsive virtue; and the same heart that could be happy all day long in nursing a young chicken, or watching the opening of a flower, or carrying food to a poor old woman, now closed her days with _thinking_, and moistened her pillow with unbidden tears. It is the natural course of womanhood. Ah! that we could always be children. We have seen that after Edith had learned the story of the Lady Ursula, she began to solve some of the mysteries of life. She had since turned over many of its leaves, all fair with innocence and truth, but she had not yet found an answer to the question, "Why do we suffer?" The change that had taken place in young Seymore was deeper and sterner, but not so apparent. Externally, he was the same beautiful youth that he was when we introduced him to our kind readers, in his attic. Since then, he had had much to struggle with; but poverty had not been his greatest temptation. He could not indeed hope to be exempt from the bitter experience of almost all who at that time were scholars. To this very day, the sons of clergymen, and many of the most distinguished men in New England, have held the plough in the intervals of their preparation for the university. How many poor mothers have striven, and labored, and denied themselves all but the bare necessaries of life, that their sons might gain that sole distinction in New England,--an education at one of the colleges. Poverty was not his greatest trial. When he first saw Edith, her timid and innocent beauty had made an impression on his fancy, that all his subsequent dreams in solitude, and his lonely reveries, had only served to deepen. She seemed to embody all his imaginations of female loveliness. He had, indeed, never before seen a beautiful girl, and he had no acquaintance with women, except his grandmother. The remembrance of his mother came softened to him, like something unconnected with earth; and when he thought of the darkened chamber, the pale, faint smile, her hand on his head, and her solemn consecration of him to the church, on her death-bed, he felt a sensation of awe that chilled and appalled him. After his acquaintance with Edith and her father, life wore a brighter hue. His efforts to gain an education to distinguish himself were redoubled. Mr. Grafton aided in every way; and with the sympathy of his kind friend came the image of his beautiful daughter. His labors were lightened, his heart cheered, by the thought that she would smile and approve. Thus days of bodily labor were succeeded by nights of study; and, for some time, with his youth and vigorous health, this was hardly felt as an evil. But we have seen, in our first chapter, that he had moments of despondency, and of late they had been of more frequent occurrence. At such times, the remembrance of his mother, and her solemn dedication of him to the church, came back with redoubled power, and the time he had spent in lighter literature, in poetry, and even his dreams of Edith, seemed to him like sins. A darker and less joyous spirit was gradually overshadowing him. A morbid sensitiveness to moral evil, an exaggerated sense of his own sins, and of the strict requisitions of the spirit of the times, clouded his natural gayety. His visits to the parsonage, indeed, always dissipated his fears for a little time. Edith received him as a valued friend, and he returned to his studies, cheered by her smiles, and sustained by new hopes. He never analyzed the cause of this change, or the nature of his feelings: but, when he thought of his degree at the college, it was her sympathy and her approbation that came first to his mind; and, when he sent his thoughts forward to a settlement and a parsonage like that of his venerable friend's, it would have been empty, and desolate, and uninhabitable, if Edith had not been there. It was in Edith's beloved father that a year had made the saddest change. The winter had been unusually severe, and the snow deep. His parish was much scattered, and it was his custom to visit them on horseback; and, in the deepest snows, and most severe storms, he had never refused to appear at their bedsides, or to visit and comfort the afflicted. He had lived, and labored, and loved among his simple flock, but he now felt that his ministry was drawing towards a close. In March, he had returned from one of his visits late at night, and much wet and fatigued. The next morning he found himself ill with a lung fever. It left him debilitated, and much impaired in constitution; and a rapid decline seemed the almost inevitable consequence at his advanced age. CHAPTER X. Pride, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is littleness; and he who feels contempt For any living thing, hath faculties Which he has never used. O, be wiser, then! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love: True dignity abides with him alone, Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart. WORDSWORTH. It has been the fashion, of late, to depreciate the clergymen among our Puritan fathers. It is true they erred, but their errors belonged to the time and the circumstance that placed in their hands unusual power. There were among them men that would have done honor to any age; perfect gentlemen, who would have adorned a drawing-room, as well as consecrated a church. The traits that constitute _gentlesse_ do not belong to any age or any school: they are not formed by the conventions of society, nor the forms that are adopted to facilitate and give grace to the intercourse of equals. The precept that says, "In honor preferring one another," if acted on in perfect sincerity of heart, and carried out in all the intercourse of society, would form perfect gentlemen and ladies. We have heard Jesus called the most finished gentleman that ever lived. Undisguised benevolence, humility, and sincerity, would form such gentlemen, and the intercourse of society, founded on such principles, would be true, noble, graceful, and most attractive. Such a gentleman was Edith's father; and while he was an honored and cherished guest at the tables of the fathers and princes of the colony, he seldom left his humble parish. His influence there was unbounded, and his peculiarities, if he had them, belonged to the age. In an age of persecutors, he was so averse to persecution, that he did not escape the charge of heresy and insincerity. The clergy of that time loved to preach from the Old Testament, and to illustrate the lives of the patriarchs. An unlimited and implicit faith, that made each believe he was the especial care and favorite of God, was the foundation of the religion of the Old Testament. Our fathers had much of the same persuasion. To an audience of fishermen, and scattered cultivators of the sterile fields of New England, such a faith came home to their hearts; the one committing their frail boats to the treacherous ocean, the other depending on the early and the latter rains, and genial skies, for their support. June had come, the genial month of June, and Mr. Grafton was not revived by its soft air. He declined daily, and Edith, his tender nurse, could not conceal from herself that there was little hope of his ever reviving. Dinah had watched with him almost every night, but, worn out with fatigue, Edith had persuaded her to take some moments for repose. After a night of much restlessness, towards morning, her father fell into a tranquil slumber. Edith was alone in the darkened room, and as she sat in the deep silence by his bedside, an old-fashioned clock, that stood in the corner, seemed, to her excited nerves, to strike its monotonous tick directly on her temples. A small taper was burning in the chimney, and the long shadows it cast served only to darken the room. From time to time, as Edith leaned over her father, she touched his forehead with her hand: in the solitude and stillness, it seemed a medium of communication with the mind of her father, and held the place of language. At length he opened his eyes, and seeing her bending over him, he drew her towards him, and kissed her tenderly. In a whisper, he said, "I feel, my child, that I am dying." "Do not weep," said he, observing how much Edith was shocked; "you can trust in God. You can be near me in death, as you have been in life. Now is the time, my Edith, to feel the value of all those principles we have learned together through life. I feel that God is near us, and that when I am gone, he will be near to you." Edith threw herself into his arms. Her father laid his hand on her head, and prayed audibly. She arose more calm, and asked him if she should not call the faithful slaves. "No, my child," he said; "let the poor children"--he always named them thus--"let the poor children sleep. God is here. I hold your hands in mine. What more do we want? Let the quiet night pass. The morning will be glorious! it will open for me in another world." It was a beautiful sight, that young and timid woman sustaining her aged father, and he trusting so entirely in God, and feeling no anxiety, no grief, but that of leaving her alone. As she sat thus holding his hand in hers, his breath became less frequent; he fixed his eyes on hers with a tender smile. His breathing stopped--his spirit was gone! Edith did not shriek, or faint. It was the first time she had been in the chamber of death, and a holy calmness, a persuasion that her father's spirit was still there, came over her. She closed his eyes, and sat long with his hand strained in hers. The first note of the early birds made her start. She arose, and opened the window. The morning had dawned, and every leaf, every blade of grass, was glittering in the early dew. Her father's horse, that had borne him so many years, was feeding in the enclosure. At the sound of the window, he came forward: then a sense of her loss came over Edith, and she burst into tears. CHAPTER XI. "----Whene'er the good and just Close the dim eye on life and pain, Heaven watches o'er their sleeping dust, Till the pure spirit comes again. Though nameless, trampled, and forgot, His servant's humble ashes lie, Yet God has marked and sealed the spot, To call its inmate to the sky." It was one of those brilliant and transparent days of June, never surpassed in any climate. The little church stood clearly defined against the deep blue sky. The ocean, as the sun shone on it, was gemmed with a thousand glancing diamonds, and here and there a light sail rose and fell upon it, like the wings of a bird. It was so still that the hum of the noontide insects was distinctly heard. At intervals, the slow tolling of the little bell sent its echoes back from the surrounding forest. It was the day of the funeral of the beloved pastor, and small groups of the parishioners began to collect about the church and the house. Heartfelt grief seemed to shadow every countenance, but the severe and reserved character of the New England Puritans allowed them to make no demonstration of sorrow: they shut up within themselves every trace of emotion, and spoke only in whispers, with a stern, determined air. The garb and appearance of the people was rough and homely. There were farmers with their wives, on pillions; fishermen with their rough sea-coats; aged women, bent and wrinkled, who had come to lay in the grave one whom they had hoped would have prayed at and blessed their own burial. The house at length was filled with those who had the nearest claim, and the ministers of the surrounding villages darkened, with their black dress, the little apartment. The two slaves stood near the bier, and the excitable temperament and violent grief of the poor Africans contrasted with the stern, and solemn, and composed countenances around them. Edith at last came in. She was calm, but very pale; and, as she entered the room, she gave her hand to those who stood nearest. She tried to speak, but the words died on her lips. Dinah was in a moment at her side. Her delicate and youthful beauty contrasted by her sable friend, and her lonely, unprotected state touched the hearts of these stern, but also tenderly affectionate Puritans, and there were tears in many eyes, as they looked at her with respect and interest. The windows were all open; the concert of joyous birds, in their season of love and happiness, showed no sympathy with man in his grief. It was so still that the silvery sound of the waves, as they touched the beach, was distinctly heard; and the voice of prayer, as it broke the silence, was the only human sound. The voice of prayer ceased, and the quick hoof of a horse was heard. In a few moments Seymore entered. He had heard of the death of his friend, and, impelled by an irresistible impulse, he could not remain at his studies. As he entered he was violently agitated, for death and sorrow were new to him. The color rushed to Edith's pale cheek, as she silently gave him her hand; but she felt a calmness which she could not herself understand. A change had been wrought in her character by that nightly death-bed, and by four days of lonely sorrow. She felt that she must rely on herself. The changes that are wrought by sorrow and reflection in a timid woman are not less apparent than those wrought by love. They seem, at first, to take from the exquisite feminineness of the character, but they bring out the latent beauty and strength of her spiritual nature. It is said "that every wave of the ocean adds to the beauty of the pearl, by removing the scum that reveals its interior and mysterious light." It is thus with time and sorrow: they reveal to ones self the inward pearl beyond all price, on which we must forever rely to guide us. The oldest of the parishioners now approached, to bear their beloved pastor on their shoulders to the silent grave-yard. The ceremonial of a country burial is extremely simple, but they had then an affecting custom which has since been discontinued. As they bore the body to the grave, they sang an anthem, and, as it entered the little enclosure, the groups on each side receded, and uncovered their heads. The boys were hushed to awe, as the anthem rose on the evening air; the sun sank behind the forest, and its last rays were reflected from the grave of this servant of God. The exquisite beauty of the scene oppressed and wearied Edith as she returned to her solitary home. She felt that though nature may sympathize with our joy, there is nothing in her bosom that responds to our sorrow. But she did not return alone: Seymore had followed her; and, as they entered the deserted room, her father's arm-chair was in its accustomed place: even his slippers had been accidentally placed ready for him. The curtain had been removed from her mother's picture, and as she approached it, she met its pitying eyes fixed upon her. The unnatural tension of the nerves, which had denied her, for the last four days, the relief of tears, gave way, and the very fountains of her soul seemed opened. She sank down on a chair, and yielded to the overwhelming emotion. There are states of the mind when the note of a bird, the fall of a leaf, the perfume of a flower, will unlock the bars of the soul, as the smallest sound will loosen the avalanche. The unexpected sight of her mother's picture had overpowered Edith. O that we should receive a mother's love in infancy, when we cannot value or understand it; and, in after life, when we need it most, when we long for the heart that has cherished us, "we must go back to some almost forgotten grave," where that warm heart lies that loved us as no other will ever love us. Seymore was terrified: he had never seen grief like this, and he walked the room with rapid and agitated steps. Edith longed to be alone. She tried to conquer her emotion, but the sobs that came from the bottom of her heart shook her whole frame. At last she said, "Pray leave me; I wish to be, _I must_ be alone." Seymore could not leave her thus. He took her passive hand. "O," said he, "would that I could spare you one of these tears! If you could know how I reverence your sorrow, how my heart bleeds for you--O pardon me--if you could see my heart, you would see there a devotion, a reverence, such as angels feel in heaven. Might I dare to hope that you would forgive, that you would pardon the poor, unknown, homeless scholar, that he has dared to love you?" Edith had become calm as he spoke thus impetuously, and her hand grew cold in his. She looked up: a beautiful and timid hope shone in her eyes; and, though her tears fell fast, a smile was on her lips. "We are both homeless," she said,--"both orphans." He caught from her expression a rapturous hope. At this moment the faithful slave Dinah opened the door to look after her young mistress. It was the first time since her childhood, that the face of her sable friend had been unwelcome to Edith; but perhaps it was happy for both; it arrested their tumultuous emotions, and gave Seymore, who left the room immediately, time to arrange his thoughts, and reflect on the blissful prospect opening before him. Edith held out her hand to her friend. I have before remarked the figurative expressions in which Dinah clothed her thoughts. Her language and her feelings were fervid, like her climate. "I thought," she said, "the heartsease had withered in your bosom; but it has sprung up, and is blooming again." Then seeing the crimson overspread Edith's cheek, she added, "perhaps your warm tears have revived it." But, as if ashamed of having said something not perfectly true, she took Edith's hand, looked earnestly in her face, as if asking an explanation of this sudden change. Edith was wholly overcome. She threw herself into the arms of the faithful slave, and longed to hide herself there. None but a mother could understand her feelings, or one who had been to her in the place of a mother, and knew every beating of her innocent heart. There are moments when woman needs the sympathy of a mother, that first and dearest friend of every human being. Dinah could not understand the imaginative character of Edith's mind; she could not sympathize with her thirst for knowledge, her love of the beautiful and the unknown; but the tear in her eye, and her quivering lip, as she pressed her child closer and closer to her, as though she would cherish her in her inmost heart, showed that she understood her nature, and sympathized in her happiness with all a woman's heart. That night, when Edith laid her head on her pillow, she felt a secret joy, a lightness of heart, which she could not understand. She reproached herself that she could feel so happy so soon after the death of her father. She did not know how insensibly she had suffered an interest in Seymore to grow in her heart, and that the sentiments of nature are weak when brought into contact with an absorbing passion. When she came to offer her prayer for guidance and protection, a feeling of gratitude, of thankfulness, overpowered all other emotions, and she closed her eyes, wet with grateful tears. CHAPTER XII. "Is this a tale? Methinks it is a homily." Seymore indulged himself with a few days of perfect, unalloyed happiness. The tumultuous feeling of joy subsided, the dark shade that had begun to gather over his mind vanished, and a sober certainty of bliss--bliss too great, he feared, for mortal, appeased his too keen sensibility to his own imperfections. The character of Edith was formed to produce this effect. There was nothing exaggerated in it. Her solitary life, without mother or sister, had taught her great self-reliance; while her genuine humility had preserved her from that obstinacy of opinion that a want of knowledge of the world sometimes creates. The grave and solid studies she had entered into with her father had strengthened her mind, as it were, with the "bark and steel" of literature; while the native tenderness of her heart had prevented her from becoming that odious creature, a female pedant. Her greatest charm was the exquisite feminineness of her character: this perhaps, without religion, would have degenerated into weakness, or, without an enlightened reason, into superstition. How entirely is the divine spirit of Christianity adapted to woman's nature! loving as she does, and trembling for the objects of her love; doomed "To weep silent tears, and patient smiles to wear, And to make idols, and to find them clay." If ever woman enjoyed all worldly advantages, if ever she was flattered, made an idol, and worshipped, it was in Europe previous to the French Revolution. Yet the letters and memoirs of the women of that time, light and frivolous as they are, reveal a depth of sadness, a desolation of spirit, a weariness of life,--destitute as many of them are of all aspiration after an immortal hope,--that tells us how indispensable to woman's nature are the hopes and consolations of religion. Love was at that time the object of woman's existence,--a love that, with our standard of morals, leaves a stain as well as a wound; but, with their peculiar notions, it robbed them neither of the adulation of society, nor of their own self-respect. But, with all this, together with their influence in the affairs of state, we read their memoirs not only with a shame that burns on the cheek, but with feelings of the deepest commiseration. How few, even of the happiest among women, are blest with that love that can fill and satisfy a woman's heart! How many, disappointed and weeping o'er "idols of clay," stretch out the arms of their souls for something they can lean on in safety! How many, solitary at heart in the midst of gayety, turn away to look into themselves for something more satisfying! How many broken and contrite spirits feel that he alone who knows what is in the heart of man, can teach them to bear a wounded spirit! How full of sympathy for woman is the New Testament! He knew the heart of woman who said, "She is forgiven; for she has loved much." It must have been a woman who first thought of prayer. Madame de Stael says that a mother with a sick child must have invented prayer; and she is right: a woman would first pray, not for herself, but for the object of her tenderness. It had been an object much at heart with Mr. Grafton to save a little property for his daughter. He had succeeded in purchasing the small house, and a few acres about it, which was kept in perfect order and good cultivation under the excellent management of Paul. Edith's unprotected state, being without near relatives, made him desirous that she should have an independent home among his attached but humble parishioners. He knew that she was scarcely less beloved by them than himself. But he looked forward to his place being filled by a stranger; and he was mainly anxious that her comfort should not depend on the bounty, or even the gratitude, of the most disinterested of his flock. He was able to accomplish his wish, and leave her a small patrimony, abundantly equal to the wants of their frugal establishment; and Edith thanked God, with tears of gratitude, that she was not obliged to separate herself from the graves of both her parents. The summer and winter that followed her father's death were passed in tranquillity by Edith, watched over and guarded with the most faithful care by her two sable friends. No pastor had yet been chosen in her father's place; and an unacknowledged but cherished hope arose in her mind, that Seymore might one day stand in that sacred place, hallowed in her affections, and now regarded with trembling hope. Seymore indulged himself with as many short visits to Edith as his circumstances would allow, always struggling as he was with almost insurmountable obstacles, and straining every nerve to attain that goal of his hopes, a position in society that would allow him to claim his bride. The joy that her presence imparted to his whole being, the change that came over him the moment his weary eye caught sight of the steeple that rose above the dear spot of all his dreams, the sunshine that she diffused in the dark places of his mind, prevented Edith from being sensible of the change, the painful change, that a constant struggle with the coarse realities of his position had made in his noble nature. She had often, indeed, said, with Jenny Deans, "It is no matter which has the siller, if the other wants it." But Seymore's nature was proud as well as tender. He possessed, as we have before seen, the temperament of the poet--that pure, rare, and passionate nature so little able to contend with the actual difficulties of life--to whom every-day regular labor is a burden hard to bear. We have seen that his deep religious impressions had made him consecrate all his fine powers to the service of God; and the tenderness of his conscience made him fear that the sacrifice was imperfect. The conflict was ever in his soul. He was unable to satisfy his own aspirations after a spirituality and purity, which is the slow growth of a life of exertion. Despondency so intimately allied to the poetic temperament produced a morbid sensibility, a sort of monomania in his mind, having the effect of those singular mirages seen from the sea-shore, where the most trivial and familiar objects are magnified to temples and altars, and hung, as it were, in the clouds. We touch with a reverend spirit and trembling hand the mysterious influences of hidden causes, uniting with unhappy external circumstances, to involve those who seem formed to bless and to be blessed in a self-tormenting melancholy. I know not that, under any circumstances, Seymore's would have been a happy spirit. Under the present, his love for Edith seemed the only light that could save him from total shipwreck. The two lovers wrote to each other as often as the state of communication between different parts of the country would allow, before post-roads had been established, and when letters were often entrusted to wandering Indians, and the postage paid with a little tobacco, or a handful of meal. We may judge of the nature of Seymore's letters by one of Edith's, which appears to be an answer to one of his: _October, 1692._ How can I be so little solitary, when I am more alone than ever? I awake from dreams of you to feel your presence still with me; and my first emotion is gratitude to God for having given me this happiness. Forgive me, beloved father! that I can be so content without you! The bonds of nature are weakened, when an absorbing emotion fills the heart. The time may come when nature will be avenged. Ah, it cannot be wrong to love as I do. God has opened this fountain in the desert of life, as a solace for all its evils. Ah, how can those who love be sufficiently grateful to God? Every hour should be an act of adoration and praise. You will tell me, my friend, that this all-absorbing love should be given to God. I cannot separate God from his works. This beautiful nature--the ocean, in all its majesty, the quiet stars, as they seem to look down upon us, the beauty spread every where around me--remind me always of God. I cannot represent to myself God in his personal form: I feel him every where, and I love him especially for having made us capable of love. That religion should be a different thing from this pervading love and reverence, I cannot yet understand. Faith is the gift of God; such faith as you, my dear friend, wish me to possess; but it seems to me, like all the other precious gifts of the soul, to be obtained by earnest prayer and infinite strivings. When the young man mentioned in the gospel came to our Saviour, he demanded of him no profession of mysterious faith, but only a proof of disinterested love. Religion is not a distinct thing from the every-day life, as--pardon me, my dear friend--I think you would make it. It is like the air we breathe, requisite for a life of goodness, but not less nor more perceptible to our well-being than the air is to our existence. It should not make itself felt in storms and tempests, in hot and cold fits, but in a calm and equal power, sustaining, purifying, and nourishing our souls. You believe the direct influence of the Spirit of God upon every individual mind is necessary, to make him a religious being. I cannot but think that the _indirect_ influence, the beautiful and ever-renewed miracle of nature, the observation of God's providence in the care of his creatures, and the study of the adaptation of Christianity to our particular dispositions--not merely by a process of reasoning, but aided by the religious sentiment which seems to me innate and natural to every human being--is more powerful. And now that I have finished my sermon, let me scold you for wronging yourself, as you too often do. _Truth_ is not to be set aside, in looking at our own characters. We should do the same justice to ourselves that we do to others. There is a secret dishonesty in depreciating ourselves. Could I esteem and honor you as I do, were you what you call yourself? I honor you for all the noble exertions you have made,--for the ardor of your love of truth and duty. Ah, call me not a partial and blinded judge: your true honor and your most precious happiness are too dear to me to allow me to be a false or partial friend. I would give you a little, a very little vanity; not enough to make you a sumptuous robe, but just enough to keep you from the cold. You say you look upon this delusion of witchcraft, that is spreading through the country, with fearful and trembling interest, and that you believe God may permit his will to be made known by such instruments as these. God forbid that I should limit his power! but I fear these poor children are wicked or diseased, and that Satan has nothing to do with it. The old woman at the cliff is now very ill: I trust God will take her from the world before she is seized for a witch. There are many ready to believe that she has ridden through the air on a broomstick, or gone to sea in an egg-shell. But you do not love me to jest on this subject. Forgive me! I will not jest again. And this balmy Indian summer,--it seems as if it would last forever. But I am so happy now, I can hardly believe there is sorrow in the world, or winter in the year. Winter has no terror now: the long evenings and nights bring me dreams of you, and I awake with the consciousness that you are mine. * * * Perhaps the reader may think the letter just read a very singular love-letter. But it must be remembered that religion was the all-absorbing sentiment of the Puritans, and that Seymore's enthusiastic temperament made it the subject that most interested him in his letters to Edith. Edith's mind was too well balanced and too happily constituted to allow her to partake of his extravagance; but she gave him that dearest proof of love, that of softening all his defects, and even exalting them into the most precious virtues. CHAPTER XIII. "Apart she lived, and still she rests alone: Yon earthly heap awaits no flattering stone." As it was mentioned in Edith's letter, the old woman who lived at the cottage by the cliff had become very ill, and it was apparent that she would never leave her bed again. Edith had been assiduous in her kindness. Dinah had been with her a part of every day, and had watched with her many nights. Edith insisted, at last, that her poor slave should sleep, and resolved herself to take her place by the bedside. The old woman had made herself feared and hated by the scattered inhabitants. She was called a witch, and they deserted her sick bed,--a thing most rare among the kind-hearted dwellers in a thinly-peopled neighborhood. It was a threatening evening when Edith took her station by the low pallet of the sick woman. The solitary hut, as I have mentioned, stood on the edge of the little bay; and, at high water, it was almost washed by the waves. How different the whole scene from that brilliant morning when Edith visited the tenant of the cottage! A leaden cloud seemed now to rest on the water, shutting out the fair sky; and, as the sullen waves rolled on the beach, a close and stifling air oppressed Edith's spirits. The old woman was alone: her poor grandchild, wearied with the services of the day, had fallen asleep with her hand in her grandmother's, and her head falling over the pillow: her long hair rested on the old woman's face, which she seemed not to have strength to remove. Edith's first care was to take the little girl from her grandmother's pillow; and, laying her gently on the foot of the bed, she took off her own shawl, and made a pillow for her head. The old woman looked at her without speaking, and a tear coursed slowly down her cheek. Edith hoped the hardness was melting from her heart. She took her hand tenderly in hers, and whispered, "Cannot you put your trust in God?" "I cannot pray--to God; no, it is too late. But"--and her voice was interrupted with short, impeded breath. She pointed to the child, and looked at Edith with an expression so imploring, so full of tenderness for the child, of agony that she must leave her, of appeal to Edith's compassion, that the tears started to her eyes, and she answered, "Fear nothing: I will take care of her; I will be a mother to her." The old woman pressed her hand: the look of agony passed away from her features, and she closed her eyes to sleep. Edith sat silently by the bedside. The tempest that had been gathering over the water now shook the little dwelling: torrents of rain fell, and frequent flashes lighted the little room. At last, a gust of wind from the broken window extinguished the taper, and Edith was in total darkness. It was a warm night for the season, and no fire on the hearth to afford a spark by which she could relight it. Edith trembled; but she tried to be calm. She only feared the old woman would die while she held her hand, which she imagined was already growing cold in hers. The storm gradually passed away into silence. There was no sound but the short, interrupted breath of her patient, and the soft, healthful, regular breathing of infancy. Edith longed for the dawn, and looked anxiously through the little casement for the first gray streak. As far as the eye could reach, the bay was white with foam; but no light yet dawned upon it from the morning. The old woman awoke. "I cannot see you," she said; "a film is over my eyes." Edith told her the lamp had been extinguished with the wind. "Alas!" she said; "and I must die as I have lived,--in darkness." Edith assured her she was not then dying, and begged her to try to pray, or to listen while she endeavored, as far as she was able, to offer a prayer to God. "No," she said; "I have lived without prayer, and I will not mock God on my death-bed; but, if there is mercy for me, God may listen to you, pure and good as you have ever been." Edith knelt; and, with lips trembling with timidity and responsibility, she uttered a low, humble, and earnest prayer. The old woman seemed at first to listen; but her mind soon wandered: broken and, as it afterwards would almost appear, prophetic sentences escaped from her lips: "Judgments are coming on this unhappy land,--delusions and oppression. Men and devils shall oppress the innocent. The good like you, the innocent and good, shall not escape!" Then she looked at the sleeping child: "Can the lamb dwell with the tiger, or the dove nestle with the hawk? But you have promised: you will keep your word; and when God counts his jewels"-- Edith arose from her knees, and trembled like a leaf. With inexpressible joy, her eyes fell on her own Dinah, standing looking on, with the deepest awe in her countenance. She had risen before the dawn, and come to relieve her young mistress, and had entered while Edith was kneeling. She now insisted on taking her place. Edith committed to her care the sleeping child, and then sought the repose the agitation of the night had rendered so necessary. Before evening, the old woman died; and the next day she was to be committed to the earth. Little preparation was necessary for her funeral. No mourners were to be summoned from afar: there was no mockery of grief. She had lived disliked by her neighbors. A few old women came from curiosity to see old Nanny, who had never been very courteous in inviting her neighbors to visit her; and they came now to see how she had contrived to live upon nothing. The poor child, since the death of her only friend, had refused to leave the body, but sat subdued and tearless, like a faithful dog, watching by the side of her grandmother, apparently expecting her to return again to life. Towards evening, a few persons were assembled in the hut to pay the last Christian services to the dead. The old woman had always said she would be buried, not in the common grave-yard, but near a particular rock where her last son who was drowned had been washed on shore and buried. The neighbors were whispering among themselves, as to what was to be the fate of the poor child; every one avoiding to look at her, lest it should imply some design to take charge of her. The child looked on with wonder, as though she hardly knew why they were there. She had clung to Dinah as the best known among them; but, when the prayer was finished, and they began to remove the coffin, she uttered a loud cry, flew from Dinah's arms, and clung to the bier with all her strength. The men instinctively paused and laid down their burden. The voice of nature in that little child was irresistible. They looked at Edith, who had now made known her promise to the grandmother to take care of the child, to ask what they should do. She took the child in her arms and quieted her till all was over, and then, consigning her to the care of Dinah, she was taken to their own home. Edith felt deeply the responsibility she had assumed in the care and instruction of this child. She knew the tenderness of her own heart, her yielding nature, and feared she should err on the side of too much indulgence. She said to herself, "She shall never need a mother's care. I know the heart of the orphan, and no unkindness shall ever make her feel that she is motherless." The poor little Phoebe had cried herself to sleep in Dinah's arms, and had been put to bed in her soiled and dirty state. The next morning a clean new dress banished the memory of her grandmother, and her childish tears were dried, and grief forgotten. Dinah had brought to aid her the power of soap and water, and had disentangled her really soft and beautiful hair; and when Edith came down, she would scarcely have known her again. The soil of many weeks had been taken from the child's skin, and, under it, her complexion was delicately fair: her cheeks were like pale blush roses, and her lips were two crimson rosebuds. But with this youthful freshness, which was indeed only the brilliancy of color, there was an expression in her face that marred its beauty. It was coarse and earthly, and the absence of that confiding openness we love to see in children. It reminded one of her old grandmother; although the one was fair, and smooth, and blooming, the other dark and wrinkled, a stranger would have said they were related. Edith called the child to her, and kissed her fair cheek; but when she observed the likeness to the old woman, she turned away with a slight shudder, and something like a sigh. Dinah, an interested observer of every passing emotion, said, softly, "The cloud is not gone over yet; a few more tears, and it will pass away from her young brow, and then it will be fair as your own." "It is too fair already," answered Edith; "so much beauty will be hard to guide; and then look at that dark, wayward expression." "Say not so, my dear mistress;" and Dinah drew back the hair from her fair forehead. "Look at her beautiful face: in a few days your heart will yearn to her as mine does to you." "God grant I may be as faithful to my duty," said Edith; but this is not the way to begin it; and she drew the child to her knee, and a few moments of playful caressing brought smiles to the young countenance that nearly chased away the dark expression. Edith, although superior to the age in which she lived, could not but be influenced by its peculiarities. The belief that an all-pervading and ever-present Providence directed the most minute, as well as the more important events of life, was common to the Puritans. She could not free herself from a superstitious feeling that this child was to have, in some way or other, she knew not how, an unfavorable influence upon her happiness. She was free, indeed, from that puerile superstition "That God's fixed will from nature's wanderings learns." But the tempest that shook the little building, the incoherent ravings of the old woman's mind, and the solemn darkness of the hour when she promised to take charge of the child, had made a deep impression on her mind. It is true "that coming events cast their shadows before." Who has not felt presentiments that certain persons and certain places are, in some mysterious way, we know not how, connected by invisible links with our own destiny? The ancients gave to this hidden and mysterious power the name of Fate. The tragedy of life arises from the powerless efforts of mortals to contend with its decrees. All that the ancient tragedy taught was, to bear evils with fortitude, because they were inevitable; but the "hope that is full of immortality" has taught us that they are the discipline appointed by Heaven to perfect and prepare our souls for their immortal destiny. CHAPTER XIV. "There has been too much cause to observe that the Christians that were driven into the American desert which is now called New England, have, to their sorrow, seen Azahel dwelling and raging there in very tragical instances." COTTON MATHER. The delusion that passed through our country in 1692 has left a dark chapter in the history of New England. But it was not alone in New England that this fearful delusion influenced the minds and actions of men. It was believed all over Europe, in the seventeenth century, that evil spirits mingled in the concerns of mortals, and that compacts were made with them, and sealed with the blood of many of the most eminent persons of the age. The desire to penetrate the mysteries of the spiritual natures that we believe every where to surround us, has taken different forms in different states of society. In New England, it seems to have begun in the wicked fancies of some nervous or really diseased children, who were permitted, at last, to accuse and persecute persons who were remarkable for goodness or intellect, and especially females who were distinguished for any excellence of mind or person. An historian of the time says, "In the present world, it is no wonder that the operations of evil angels are more sensible than that of the good; nevertheless 'tis very certain that the good angels fly about in our infected atmosphere to minister to the good of those who are to be the heirs of salvation. Children and ignorant persons first complained of being tormented and affected in divers manners. They then accused some persons eminent for their virtues and standing in society." We have seen that Edith was disposed to think lightly of the subject at first, although she rejoiced that the old woman of the cliff had escaped suspicion by a timely death. But when she found that some of her own neighbors had been suspected, and that one old woman, in another village, for denying all knowledge of evil spirits, had been executed, she was filled with consternation; and when others, to save themselves from the same dreadful fate, increased the delusion of the times by confessing a compact with the evil one, her pity was mingled with indignation. With so much clearness of intellect, and simplicity of heart, she could not persuade herself that it was any thing but wilful blindness, and a wicked lie. But Edith began soon to feel much anxiety for her faithful Dinah. Persons in any way distinguished for any peculiarity were most likely to be accused, and she had secretly made arrangements to send her away, and conceal her, should the smallest indication of suspicion fall upon her. For herself Edith had no fears. It would have been hard to make this pure and simple-minded creature believe that she had an enemy in the world. She had not read the French maxim, that there may be such a weight of obligation that we can only be released from it by ingratitude. Dinah had remarked, for several days, in the little Phoebe most strange and unnatural contortions, and writhings of the body, startings and tremblings, turning up her eyes and distorting her mouth; and also that she took little food, and often was absent from home; but, with her usual tenderness, and fear of giving anxiety to Edith, she had forborne to mention it. Indeed, the child had always been wayward and strange, and especially indocile to Edith's instructions, although she seemed at times to have a strong affection for her. She was fond of long rambles in the woods, and of basking in the sun alone on the beach, and retained all her love for those vagrant habits she had learned from her grandmother. Edith had too much tenderness and indulgence to restrain what appeared a harmless and perhaps healthful propensity. She had tried, however, to civilize the poor, neglected child, and had taught her to say her prayers every night, kneeling at her side. It was a cold, chilly evening in our tardy spring: the little family had drawn around the cheerful evening fire, and the evening meal was just finished: Edith felt happy, for she had been reading a cheerful letter from Seymore. The shutters were closed, and she had indulged the little Phoebe, as she often did at this hour, with a noisy game. Edith was already tired: she looked at the clock: it was the bed hour for the child. "Come, my child, be serious for a moment, and say your evening prayer." Phoebe kneeled: the prayer was short, but whenever she came to the word God, or Savior, she cried out that she could not say it. Edith concealed her fears, and said, very quietly, "I will say it for you; and now, my child, go peaceably to bed, and pray to God to keep you from telling falsehoods." Phoebe was awed by her calm, decided manner, and, without further disturbance, went quietly to bed. Full of anxiety, and even terror, Edith sought her humble friend, told her the circumstance, and besought her to fly and conceal herself. She had provided the means for flight and concealment, and entreated her to use them before it was too late. "I do not fear for myself, my dear mistress," said Dinah. "If the child has such design, she has already formed her plan and already accused us; and she will not be content with accusing me; you are not safe. You do not know her hard and stubborn temper. She is like the young hawk in the nest of the dove." Seeing Edith was dreadfully alarmed, Dinah added, "Do not fear; we are in _his_ hand who feeds the young ravens, and numbers the hairs of our heads." Edith began to be a little more composed, when a loud knocking was heard at the door. Two men entered, well known to Edith; the officials in all occasions of this nature. One was the deacon of the church, a heated fanatic, full of religious bigotry, whose head was too weak to govern the passionate and blind motions of his heart. While he had been under the restraint of Mr. Grafton's calm, enlightened reason, he had been only a zealous and useful officer of the church; but now, that he considered his own light as no longer hidden under a bushel, his zeal burned out with more violence, and he lent himself to all the wild fanaticism of the time. The other was an old man, an elder in the church; with much tenderness of heart; but he was timid, and relied little on his own judgment, which was so little enlightened that he easily yielded to what he afterwards, when the delusion passed away, bewailed with bitter tears. Edith was perfectly acquainted with the characters of both. When she saw them enter, she turned deadly pale; but she pointed courteously to a seat, and placed herself instinctively between them and Dinah, to shield her, for she knew too well that there was no escape for her humble friend if once in their power. She felt, therefore, a sensible relief when she found that she was herself the object of their visit. Edith had had time to recover a little from her first consternation, and, with much self-possession, she asked who were her accusers, and demanded the right of being confronted with them. The men informed her that she would be taken in the morning to the meeting-house for examination, and then it would be time enough to know her accusers: in the mean time they should leave a guard in the house, to prevent all attempts to escape. Escape! ah, there was none for her. But Edith answered that she wished not to escape; that she should demand an examination. Alas! she knew not yet the spirit of the times. She was deluded by her own consciousness of innocence, and she thought fanaticism itself could not attach a suspicion to harmlessness like hers. Not so Dinah. She was seized with a terror and grief that, for one moment, shook her faith in God, and took away all self-possession. She knew that innocence, youth, piety, beauty, had been of no avail against the demoniac fury of the accusers. She besought, on her knees, and with floods of tears, her dear child--as, in her agitation, she called her--to avail herself of flight. She convinced Edith that they could easily elude the vigilance of their guard; that they could escape by water. Paul was an excellent boatman, the sea smooth as a mirror, the moon nearly full; they could reach Boston without suspicion. Or she would hide her in the woods: she herself knew a place where she could bring her food and clothing, and form a shelter for her, and keep her safe till all suspicion had ceased. It would have been better for Edith had she yielded; but her own clear reason, free from the mists of fanaticism, deluded her into the persuasion that, as nothing could appear against her, it would confirm the suspicions against her if she were to avoid by flight a full and open examination. Before they retired for the night, they kneeled down to pray. Dinah could not subdue her sobs; but Edith's voice was calm and firm as she asked the protection of the Father of the fatherless, and committed her poor friend to him who is no respector of persons. Dinah entreated her mistress to allow her to sit by her all night and watch, while she tried to sleep. This Edith refused: she wished to be alone. She had much to do to prepare herself for to-morrow, and she justly feared that Dinah's distress would soften her heart, and shake her firmness too much. As they passed through the chamber, Dinah bearing the candle, the little Phoebe, restless in her sleep, had nearly thrown herself out of bed. Edith stopped, and, bending over, replaced the bedclothes, and said softly to Dinah, "If to-morrow should be fatal, if I should not live to keep my promise to the old woman, I can trust her to you: you will be to her, as you have been to me, a mother; O, more than a mother?" She stopped; her voice choked. She removed the thick hair from the brow of the sleeping child, but even in sleep her face wore the frown that so often marred its beauty. "Dinah," she said, "she is yours; you will love her as you have me." "That I can never promise; but I will do my duty," said Dinah. Edith pressed her lips--thirsting as they ever did for a return of love--on the fair brow, and then, taking the candle from Dinah, entered her own room. Her heart was oppressed with apprehension, and she would not trust herself to say good night to her faithful servants. CHAPTER XV. "But ye! ye are changed since ye met me last: There is something bright from your features past; There is that come over your heart and eye, Which speaks of a world where the flowers must die. Ye smile; but your smile has a dimness yet: Oh! what have ye looked on since last we met?" THE VOICE OF SPRING. Before the events mentioned in the last chapter occurred, the winter had passed away, and the reluctant footsteps of our northern spring began to appear. The purple Hepatica opened her soft eye in the woods, and the delicate Sanguinaria spread her snowy bosom to catch the pale sunbeam. Already the maple-trees had hung out their beautiful crimson blossoms, and the thrilling note of the song-sparrow echoed through the forest. Then came the chilling wind from the east, its wings loaded with frost; and the timid spring hid her tender blossoms, and wrapped herself in a watery veil. The weather and the spring were unnoticed by Dinah, when she sought, soon after sunrise, the pillow of her mistress. The night had brought no rest to her throbbing temples and anxious heart: she was surprised, therefore, to find Edith still sleeping. She had sat up late, arranging her father's and her own papers, and providing, by a distribution of her little property, for the old age of her two faithful servants. They were no longer slaves; Mr. Grafton had given them freedom at his death. She left the little Phoebe under their guardianship. She had also written a letter to Seymore, to ask him to come and aid her by his counsel in this extremity. It was nearly dawn when she sought her pillow; and sleep, which has been called the friend of sorrow--"but it is the happy who have called it so"--had only for a few moments left her with untroubled dreams. Her sleep was not heavy; for the gentle footstep of Dinah awoke her. When she saw her humble friend's troubled expression, she tried to smile; and, stroking her dark cheek as she bent over her, she said, "We must look bright to-day, my poor Dinah, or they will think we are afraid." They prepared for the arrival of the officers; and, when breakfast was ready, the little Phoebe was not to be found. Although Dinah looked very grave, this occasioned no anxiety in Edith, when she recollected the vagrant habits of the child. After breakfast, which was indeed not tasted, the same persons who had visited her the night before came to conduct Edith to the meeting-house, the place of examination. The house was nearly full; and among that crowd there was scarcely one to whom Edith had not been a friend and a benefactor, as far as her humble means would allow. As she entered, there was one by whose sick bed she had watched; another whose infant had died in her arms; and children stood looking on with stupid wonder to whom she had given flowers, and primers, and, more than all, her own gentle smile. But now every eye was averted, or turned on her with suspicion and terror,--so hardening is the power of fanaticism. I believe I have said that my heroine was not beautiful; but the inward harmony must have given a spiritual beauty to features animated with intellect, and softened by tenderness of heart; and a self-relying innocence and purity imparted something more of grace to her person than the most finished art could have given. Edith became very pale as she entered; and Dinah, who had followed her closely, begged permission to stand near and support her. This was denied, and she was placed between two men, who each held an arm, and in front of those who were to examine her. The afflicted--that is, the accuser--was now called in. Edith looked eagerly around, and, with grief and astonishment, saw her little Phoebe, the child of her care, when almost close to her, utter a piercing cry, and fall down in violent convulsions. She started forward to assist and raise her, but the men drew her rudely back. And this was her accuser! At the same time with Edith, a poor old woman, nearly eighty years of age, was brought in. Her accuser was her own grandchild,--a girl about the same age as Phoebe. Together they had concerted this diabolical plot, and had rehearsed and practised beforehand their contortions and convulsions, excited, no doubt, by the notoriety of wicked children they had heard of. The poor old creature was bent and haggard. She would have wept, but, alas! the fountain of her tears was dried up; and she looked at her grandchild with a sort of stupid incredulity and wonder. Her inability to weep was regarded as an infallible proof of her guilt. As she stood beside Edith, she shook with age and terror; and Edith, touched with pity, though she trembled herself, and was deadly pale, tried to give her a smile of hope and encouragement. The poor old wretch did not need it: she not only confessed to every thing of which she was accused, but added such circumstances of time and place, and of the various forms the devil had taken in her person, that Edith almost sickened with disgust. She could not understand how an old person, on the very verge of the grave, could wish to lengthen out her few years by such base and wicked lies. The young cannot believe that the old are unwilling to die. But it is an acknowledged truth, that the longer we have worn our earthly vesture, the dearer becomes the thin and faded remnant. The young resign their hold of life with hardly a regret, while the old cling with the utmost tenacity to the wavering and nearly-parted thread. Edith turned away from the partner of her suspected guilt, and asked to have the child brought near her. She held out her hand, and looked mildly in her face. The moment the child touched Edith's hand, she was still: this was a part of the plot: but the moment her hand was withdrawn, she fell down again in violent convulsions, and cried out that pins were thrust into her. In the midst of this acting, she caught Dinah's stern, reproachful eye fixed upon her, and she instantly became still. But this did not aid poor Edith's cause; for they cried out that the child was struck dumb by the accused. The old woman also, feeling perhaps that Edith's integrity was a reproach to her own weakness, cried out that she was pierced with pins, and pinched by Edith, although with invisible fingers, as she stood near her; and, turning back her sleeve from her bony and wrinkled arm, she showed a discolored spot, which she declared had not been there when she left her home. It had not, indeed; but every one knows how quickly a bruise is visible in the stagnant blood of age, and the mark had been left by the hand of the person who held her arm. Edith, wearied and disgusted, desired to be taken back to her prison, there to await her trial before the judges of the Province. Every thing had occurred that was most unfavorable to her, and she felt but too well that she must bear the suspicion of a crime of which she was as unconscious as the unborn infant. Her heart yearned towards the poor infatuated child, and she earnestly begged that she might be permitted to talk with her alone. This was granted, and she was guarded to her prison. There was no proper prison in our village, and Edith was guarded in one of the rooms of the deacon's house who had been so active in her accusation. During the night that passed after her examination, Edith had time to arrange her thoughts. Before she knew who her accusers were, she had been moving in the dark; and now, when she thought of the whole insane proceeding, she could scarcely believe they would be guilty of the monstrous crime of condemning her on the testimony of that child alone. When the deacon visited her in the morning, she said, with much warmth, "Have the days of Queen Mary come back? Am I to be suspected, condemned, imprisoned, on the testimony of that poor child,--the child that I took to my home when no one else among you would offer her a shelter?" The deacon answered, "that the testimony was so much more convincing, as the child had lived in the house with her." "And is her word to be taken against the testimony of my whole life? You know how I have lived among you from my infancy." "Yes; but God may choose the fairest of his works as instruments of his sovereign will." "Have you forgotten my father?" said Edith,--"how he lived among you? He was ever your friend--always near you in every trouble. And myself"--she stopped; for she would not remind them of her deeds of kindness,--of the daily beauty of her life in their humble circle; nor would she recall her orphanhood, her unprotected state; but she looked down, and her eyes filled with tears. "God," she said, at length, "is the protection of the orphan; and he will avenge this great sin, and you will answer for it at his bar." The deacon looked sternly decided and unmoved, but he began to urge her to confess,--to do as others had done, and save her life by acknowledging the crime. Indignation kindled in Edith's eye; but she checked it, and said, "I cannot, I durst not, belie my own soul, and commit so great a sin. God, who is the searcher of my heart and your heart, as we shall both answer at the judgment day, is witness that I know nothing of witchcraft,--of no temptation of the evil one. I have felt, indeed--as who has not?--the temptations that arise from our own passions; but I know no other, and can confess no other." She then desired that Phoebe might be brought to her, and Dinah permitted to attend her in her prison. They consented that Edith should see the child in the presence of one witness; and the mild old man who was with the deacon said he would bring her himself. CHAPTER XVI. "I am constrained to declare, as the result of as thorough a scrutiny as I could institute, my belief that this dreadful transaction was introduced and driven on by wicked perjury and wilful malice." UPHAM'S LECTURE OX SALEM WITCHCRAFT. "Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts?" LEAR. There seems sometimes to be an element of evil in the heart of a child, that would almost persuade us to believe in original sin. In the breast of those who have been favorably born and kindly nurtured, it may sleep forever; but, when the conscience has been soiled in early childhood, it awakes the appetite for sin, and the restraint that comes afterwards curbs without subduing the disposition to evil. It is true that poor Phoebe had felt a strong affection for her grandmother; and, without all other moral restraint, it was the only point in which her heart could be touched. The vagrant life she had led had also had its influence: "Happy because the sunshine was her dower," she could not always be insensible to the beauty of the heaven that had so often canopied her sleep, or the grandeur of the ocean where she had passed whole days playing with the waves. She rebelled against the restraint that every feminine occupation imposed on this wild liberty. She quailed, indeed, before Dinah's more resolute spirit; but Edith's gentleness had failed to touch her heart; and she knew that her forced obedience to Dinah was only the result of Edith's authority. When the child appeared, Edith held out her hand with her own grave, sweet smile; but, the moment the child saw her, she began again to act her part, and to throw her body and limbs into violent contortions. Edith was not alarmed: she saw it was feigned; and, drawing her to her knees, she held both her little hands tightly clasped in hers. Phoebe became instantly calm; but this was a part of the system of deception,--that, as soon as the accused touched the afflicted, they should be calmed and healed. Edith looked in her face, and said, very kindly, "Tell me, my poor child, who has persuaded you to do this wicked thing,--to accuse me of this horrible crime? tell me truly. I shall not be angry with you, I shall not punish you, if you tell me the truth. Who first spoke to you about it? What have they promised you for bringing this trouble on me?" The child, unmoved, said, "You yourself made me do it." "I! O, my poor Phoebe, how can you be so wicked as to tell this dreadful lie? Do you not know that God sees you and hears you, and that he will punish you for it? I may die: you may cause my death; but you will live to repent; and, O, how sorry you will be in after years, when you think how much I loved you, and you have caused my death! But, my poor Phoebe, you know not what you do; you know not what death is." "My grandmother died," said the child. "Ah, yes; but she died quietly in her bed, and you were sleeping near; and when I took you in my arms to look at her, you saw only her peaceful countenance. But I shall not die thus: I shall be dragged before angry men, and, with irons on my hands and ankles, I shall be lifted to the scaffold, and there, before hundreds of angry faces turned towards me, I shall die alone! not peacefully, as your grandmother did, when with my own hands I closed her eyes, but horribly, in pain and agony! and you will have done this,--you that I have loved so"-- Phoebe became very red, and the tears came to her eyes. Edith thought she had touched the child's heart, and continued: "I knew you could not be so wicked, so young and looking so innocent. No, my child; you love me, and you will unsay all you have said, and we will go home again together." The child answered, with much violence, "No, no, never! you pricked me with pins, and you tormented me." "O, monstrous!" said Edith; "if I could believe in devils, I should believe you were now possessed. O, it is not natural! so young, and with a woman's nature! You do not love me, then. I have punished you when you have done wrong, and you have not forgiven me: you wish to be revenged. You do not answer. Phoebe! tell me: are you angry that I punished you? God knows it pained me to do so. But your poor grandmother gave you to me that I might try to make you a good child; and if I had not punished you when you did wrong, you would have grown up a wicked woman. God grant you may not be so now! you are already revenged." Phoebe said, very sullenly, "You punished me twice." "Good God! and is it for that you have brought on me this terrible evil? Can such revenge dwell in so young a heart?" Edith walked several times across the room, trying to calm her agitated nerves. The child stood with an expression of obstinate determination in her whole manner. At length Edith went to her, and took her, as she had often done at home, in her arms. "My dear Phoebe, do you remember the day when your grandmother died? I was there by her bedside; and you, a poor, deserted child, were crying bitterly. I took you home to my house. Like myself, you were an orphan; and I prayed to the orphan's Father that from me your little heart might never know a pang of sorrow. You fell asleep in my arms; and since then I have ever loved you almost as though I were indeed your mother, and you were my own child. And you, Phoebe, you have loved me, have you not?" The child was silent. "Do you remember the fever you had soon after? when you were restless in your bed, and I took you in my arms, and all night my bosom was your pillow, and I watched you many nights, and thought not of sleep or fatigue when I held your little hand, burning with fever, in my own all night? Ah! you loved me then; you will love me again, and--" "I never loved you," said the child; "I do not love you now." Edith put her quickly from her arms, and turning to the man who was present, "Take her away," she said; "take the poor child away. O, my God! is it for this I have lavished on her the tenderness of my heart! I warmed her in my bosom, and she has stung me to the quick. O, had I been less indulgent, I might have subdued her stubborn nature. Of what avail has been a life of self-denial, of benevolence? Of what avail that I have striven to enlighten my own mind and to do good to others? In one moment, by that child of my own cherishing, but the creature of my own bounty, I am suspected of a horrible, contemptible crime; humiliated to the very dust. O, my Father! it is too much." She covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. The person who had witnessed the scene with the child was the same elder I have mentioned as possessing much tenderness of heart, but too weak a head to listen to its dictates when opposed to the influence of others. He had been much affected by her appeal to the child, and came back to urge her, if she had any friends to espouse her cause, to send for them. He said the fanaticism was increasing; that the prisons in many villages were filled with the accused; that the hearts of the people were hardened against them; and that her own cause had been much injured by the confession of the old woman: and he ended by entreating her to confess also, and save her life. To the last proposal, Edith did not answer. She said she had already written to the only friend on whom she could rely, and that Paul had gone himself with her letter. Her cause, she said, seemed already lost, and all she wished at present was, that Dinah might be permitted to visit her, and that she might be left alone. When Edith was alone, she felt the depression that succeeds to great excitement. She looked back on her life with that sick and heart-broken feeling that the young experience after severe disappointments. She was too young to die; and, though her life had been comparatively blameless, the excess of feeling she had lavished on a few idols seemed now to her almost like a crime. She had forgotten, she thought, that her duties had been plain, and simple, and humble, lying all about her path like unnoticed flowers, while she had longed for something more exciting to fill her heart. It is easy for the accused to believe themselves guilty. She trembled when she thought how many, not weaker than herself, when suspected and deserted by friends, had yielded to their fears, and even fancied themselves _guilty_ of crimes which they abhorred; and she mentally prayed, "Ah, my Father, save me from myself." Then came the thought of Seymore, of his grief, his desolation! "Ah, who will understand him," she said; "who will comfort him when I am gone? But will he remember me?" thought she; "will he think of me in 'widowhood of heart?'" Who would die and be wholly forgotten? We long intensely to live in the hearts that love us now. We would not pass away "like the summer-dried fountain," forgotten when its sound has ceased. We would have our lowly grave visited by holy, twilight thoughts, and our image return at the hour of prayer. How few are thus remembered! Now Edith thought of her father, and all the yearning of her heart, which her love for Seymore had stifled, came back, and torrents of tears flowed as she recalled her happy childhood. They were checked by the entrance of Dinah. She brought comfort with her, and a cheerful countenance, for she did not know the result of Edith's conversation with the child, and she was full of hope that Phoebe would retract all she had said. Edith could not bear to undeceive her poor friend, and smiled, and thanked her as she arranged a nice, clean bed, placed the books she had brought within her reach, and pressed her to eat of the delicacies she had prepared. She arranged the little repast with all the neatness of home, and gave to the gloomy apartment an air of comfort; and Edith smiled again, and felt lightened of half her load of despondency, by the presence of this faithful guardian. CHAPTER XVII. "'T is past! I wake A captive and alone, and far from thee, My love and friend! yet fostering, for thy sake, A quenchless hope of happiness to be; And feeling still my woman's spirit strong In the deep faith that lifts from earthly wrong A heavenward glance." MRS. HEMANS. The next morning Edith was informed that Seymore had arrived. As soon as he received her letter he travelled with all the rapidity the state of the country permitted, when the journey from Boston to Salem was the affair of a day, as it is now of half an hour. From all we have learned of the character of Seymore, the reader will not be surprised to find that, although never taking an active part in the persecutions of the time, the character of his enthusiasm was such that he lent an easy faith to the stories he had heard of the possessed, and believed that God was manifesting his power by granting, for a season, such liberty to the prince of evil. When, however, he received Edith's letter, he felt pierced as it were with his own sword. He trembled when he thought of his almost idolatrous love, and with a faith which he fancied resembled that of Abraham, he believed the time had now come when he must cut off a right hand, and pluck out a right eye, to give evidence of his submission to the will of God. With this disposition of mind he arrived at the scene of our narrative. In the mean time the tender-hearted elder had become so much interested to save Edith, that he contrived to have Seymore placed on the jury, hoping that his deep interest in her would be the means of returning a verdict of _not guilty_. Seymore was therefore spared the pain of an interview with Edith, which would probably have convinced him of her innocence, before the trial. Edith awoke the next morning from a happy dream. She was walking with Seymore by the margin of the great ocean, and his low, deep voice mingled in her ear with the liquid sound of the dying wave. She awoke, a captive and alone: no, not alone, for the faithful Dinah was standing by her bedside, so tearful, so subdued, that the smile the happy dream had left on Edith's lips instantly faded. She remembered it was the day of her trial, and she prepared to meet it. These trials were held in the meeting-house, and were opened and closed with a religious service. This seems like a mockery to us, but our fathers thought they were performing a sacred duty; and however frivolous or disgusting were many of the details, the trial was rendered more appalling by giving to the whole the appearance of a holy sacrifice. Edith was far from being insensible to the terrors of her situation, but she found it necessary to assume a cheerfulness she did not feel, in order to soothe the dreadful agitation of Dinah. The poor African trusted in God; but she could not shield her child from the tyranny of human power. When Edith entered the thronged meeting-house, a paleness, like that of death, overspread her countenance. She requested that Dinah might stand near her to support her, lest she should faint. This was rudely denied. She was answered, "If she had strength to torment that child, she had strength to stand alone." She could not wipe the tears that gushed into her eyes at this cruel answer, for each hand was extended, and closely held by an officer,--a precaution always adopted in these trials, lest the prisoner should afflict some person in the crowded multitude. She had no sooner become a little calm, than her eye sought Seymore among the crowd. She was shocked with the change an "o'erwrought spirit" had effected in his person. His pale forehead was traced with veins that were swelled almost to bursting; a fire was burning in his dark, sunken eyes, and crimson spots flushed each cheek. As Edith looked at him, her heart swelled with an infinite pity. For the moment, her own appalling situation melted away from her thoughts. For the moment, it was of little importance to her whether she lived or died. All she wished was to be near Seymore, to speak to him, to soothe and calm his agitated spirit. She was recalled to herself by the opening of the trial. The prisoner was first commanded to repeat the Lord's prayer. This Edith did in a low, sweet voice, that sounded to the hushed audience like plaintive music. It is not my purpose to enter into the details of this trial. It is enough that "every idle rumor, every thing that the gossip of the credulous, or the fertile memories of the malignant could produce that had an unfavorable bearing on the prisoner, however foreign it might be to the indictment, was brought before the jury,"[3] in addition to the testimony of the child, and the falsehood of the old woman. [Footnote 3: Upham's History of Witchcraft.] The cause was at length given to the jury. They did not leave their seats; and when it came to the turn of Seymore, who was the last to speak, the crimson blood rushed to the cheek, brow, and temples of Edith, and then left them paler than before: a sick sensation came over her, and she would have fainted, had she not been relieved by tears, burning hot, that gushed from her eyes. Seymore had covered his face when he first entered, and had not looked at Edith. So hushed was the crowd, that the word "_guilty_," wrung as it were from him in the lowest whisper, was heard distinctly through the whole meeting-house. It pierced Edith's ear like the voice of a trumpet; and from that moment the spirit of a martyr entered her breast. She felt herself deserted by the whole of her little world, falsely convicted of a crime she abhorred, and left without human sympathy. She turned to God. "He who seeth in secret," she said, "knows my innocence;" and she bowed her head, and made no further answer. The trial was closed as it began,--with religious services. A hymn was sung; and Edith, feeling, as I have said, an elevation that she could not herself understand, joined in the devotion. The others stopped; for they would not mingle their voices with one convicted of witchcraft: the very evil one was mocking them. Edith continued alone; and her rich, sweet tones thrilled their hearts like the voice of an angel. She was reminded by a whisper from Dinah that she was singing alone; and, ceasing, she blushed deeply, and covered her face from the curious gaze of the multitude. As Edith returned to her prison, guarded on each side, and followed by Dinah, she thought of the Lady Ursula, whose cruel fate had moved her so deeply. And was she indeed the same person? The child that had wept her fate so bitterly was now to meet one far more terrible: and she felt strength to meet it. Every wave, as it had passed over her, had brought out the hidden beauty and strength of her soul; and, though there was in her no air of triumph, a tranquil contentment and repose was expressed in her whole person. CHAPTER XVIII. "No, never more, O, never in the worth Of its pure cause, let sorrowing love on earth Trust fondly,--never more! The hope is crushed That lit my life,--the voice within me hushed That spoke sweet oracles." The unnatural excitement that had borne our heroine up during the last part of her trial forsook her when she entered once more her dreary prison. She was again alone,--again a weak and timid woman. The momentary exaltation that a sense of injustice had given her when under the gaze of numbers, gave way to memories of the deep and unforgotten happiness she had connected with Seymore. All her sweet anticipations of soothing his spirit, of leading him to more rational views of God and of himself, faded away. In a few days, she would be no more, and remembered, perhaps, with pity or scorn. One last, lingering weakness remained: it was the fear of losing the respect and tenderness of Seymore. Like all who love deeply, she had dated her existence from the time she became acquainted with Seymore: all before had become a blank in her memory; but now her early years rose up before her, like the reflected sunlight on distant hills. The thought of her father came back with melting tenderness. Ah, now was he avenged for the short forgetfulness with which she had ever reproached herself. She threw herself on her knees, and prayed silently. She felt calmed and elevated, as if in immediate answer to her prayer. All selfish and agitating emotions passed away. A spirit of forgiveness, of endurance, of calm and patient trust, entered her soul. She felt that, with Seymore's convictions and sense of duty, he could not have acted otherwise; he could not but bear his testimony to what he thought truth; and almost a divine pity for his errors, and a purer love for his truth, filled her heart. She was informed that Seymore was waiting to see her. This was a trial she had expected, and she was now prepared to meet him. He entered trembling, pale, and wholly unmanned. As he tried to speak, his voice failed, and he burst into tears. It is fearful to see a strong man weep. Edith was not prepared for this excess of emotion. Those who have seen Retch's exquisite drawing of Cordelia when Lear awakes, and she asks "if he knows her," can imagine the tender pity of her expression as she went to him and placed her hand in his. A sweet smile was on her lips,--that smile that shows that woman can mingle an infinite tenderness with the forgiveness of every injury. He pressed her hand to his heart--his lips; and when he caught her eye,--"O, do not look so mildly at me," he said; "reproach me, scorn me, hate me: I can bear all rather than those meek eyes,--than that forgiving smile." "Be calm, dear Seymore," she said; "with your convictions, you could not have done otherwise. You believe in the reality of these possessions. The evidence against me was more and stronger than has been sufficient to condemn many as innocent as I am. You can have no cause for self-reproach." "Innocent! O, say not that you are innocent! God has many ways of trying his elect. You he has tried severely with temptations from the prince of evil. He chooses souls like yours. O, Edith, for my sake, for your own sake, acknowledge that you have been tempted. It only is required that you should say you have been deceived; then all will be well." For a moment, Edith's face was crimsoned. "What! become a traitor to my own soul! lose forever the unsullied jewel of truth, and the peace of a pure conscience! and do you counsel this?" "Many have confessed," he said, "many of undoubted truth, of ripe wisdom, who could not be deceived, and who would not confess to a lie."[4] [Footnote 4: "Fifty-five persons, many of them previously of the most _unquestionable character for intelligence, virtue, and piety_, acknowledged the truth of the charges that were made against them, confessed that they were witches, and had made a compact with the devil. It is probable that the motive of self-preservation influenced most of them: an awful death was in immediate prospect. The delusion had obtained full possession of the people, the witnesses, the jury, and the court. By acknowledging the crime, they might in a moment secure their lives and liberty. Their principles could not withstand the temptation: they made a confession, and were rewarded by a pardon."--_Upham's Lectures on Salem Witchcraft._] "But _I_ should confess to a lie,--a base and wicked lie. I have no faith in these temptations. I believe God suffers us to be tempted by our own passions and unrestrained imaginations, but not by visible or invisible evil spirits. O, listen to me: go no further in this mad, this wicked delusion. Spare the innocent blood that will be shed. If I must die, let my death be the means of turning you and others from this dreadful sin." "And can you bear to have your name sullied by this alliance with the wicked? Those who die as criminals are believed guilty of crimes; and can you consent to be remembered as the associate of evil spirits?" "Falsehood can live but a few years," she answered; "there is an immortality in truth and virtue. I cannot blush to be confounded with the guilty; for it is my unwillingness to sully my conscience with a lie that leads me there." Seymore was silent for a few moments. "Edith," he said at last, straining both her hands in his, "have you been able to think how cruel this death may be? Have you fortitude? Can you bear to think of it?" and he shuddered, and covered his face with his hands. Edith for a moment turned pale. "I have ever shrunk," she said, "from physical pain. My own extreme timidity has never given me courage to bear the least of its evils. I believe, then, that it will be spared me: God will give me courage at the moment, or he will mercifully shorten the pain; for what is beyond our strength we are not called to bear." "And can you part with life thus triumphantly?" "Ah, my friend, there is no triumph in my soul. In its deepest sanctuary, I feel that God will pardon my sins, and accept my death as in obedience to my conscience. But, O! I have not sought it: life is still sweet to me." "You shall not die,--you must not! you will not leave me! Edith, have you forgotten our moments of bliss,--our dreams of happiness to come,--the quiet home, the peaceful fireside, where we hoped to pass our lives together? Have you forgotten how long, how truly, how fervently, I have loved you? and is this to be the close of all?" Edith's hand trembled in his, but she answered cheerfully: "The close! ah, no: look upward. God has tried us both with grievous trials. Mine will cease first. Yours is the hardest to bear: to linger here--to do God's work alone. Let me be to you like one departed a little while before you, that would not be mourned, but remembered always." They were both silent for some moments; Seymore contending with unutterable regret, oppressed with an emotion that was almost the agony of remorse. Edith understood his contending emotions. "Think," she said, "that you have been the instrument of Providence to lead me to heaven. I do not regret to die early: God has permitted me to solve the mystery of life. I see his hand even from the moment when that child was committed to my care. Thank God, I can now submit to his will; and, although life were sweet with you, my death may bring you nearer to heaven." "Edith," he said at last, "I have been deceived. Such faith, such divine forgiveness, such noble fortitude, cannot be the work of evil spirits. Your faith is purer and stronger than mine,--your reason more enlightened. I have erred, dreadfully erred." A bright smile illumined her face, and she pressed his hand in hers. "I have done most dreadfully wrong," he said; "I sinned from ignorance." "God will forgive you," said Edith; "and I,--I cannot forgive, for I could not blame." He started up. "It is not too late to repair this dreadful evil: it will be easy for you to escape. If I cannot gain a reversion of the sentence, we can escape: we will leave this country of delusion and error; we will go home--to England. There, O Edith--" The blood for a moment rushed to Edith's cheek and brow; but she answered, sadly, "No, Seymore, it cannot be; after all that has passed, it would ruin your character, your prospects, your usefulness, forever. We are too weak to stem, to oppose this mad delusion. Bigotry and power are all around us." "You hesitate. Ah, you do not love me as you did;" and he became again violently agitated. Edith took his hand in hers, and pressed it to her lips. "Tempt me not," she said, "with visions of happiness that can never be. Let us rather pray to God to support us in this bitter hour." They bowed their young heads together, and their tears mingled. Edith's silent prayer was wholly for him. True to her woman's nature, she forgot herself in his deeper sorrow. He was calm, and Edith would not prolong the interview; and Seymore left her all the more hastily as he was determined to employ every means to save her. He was not permitted to enjoy that happiness. CHAPTER XIX. "See, they are gone!-- The earth has bubbles, as the waters have, And these are some of them. They vanished Into the air, and what seemed corporal, Melted as breath into the wind." SHAKSPEARE. When Edith was alone, she felt that weakness and exhaustion of the body that all the painful excitements of the day had produced. She threw herself on the bed, and Dinah was soon at her side. "Sing me one of the hymns you used to sing in my happy childhood; perhaps I may sleep." Dinah sat by the side of the bed, and Edith laid her head on the breast of her faithful friend, while she began in a tremulous, low tone, that became stronger and clearer as the holy fervor of the hymn inspired her. Edith lay motionless, but between her closed eyelids the large tears forced themselves, and fell slowly down her cheeks. At length, like a tired infant, she slept. Dinah laid her head gently on the pillow; with the tenderest hand, wiped away the tears; drew the covering over her; with noiseless step excluded the light, and then sat down to watch by her. It was the bitterest hour poor Dinah had ever passed. She tried to pray, but she found submission impossible. She had had many trials. She had been torn from her native land, chained in a slave ship, exposed for sale in the slave market; but since she had been a Christian, she had blessed her various trials. Now her faith in God seemed entirely to fail. She took, as she had often done to comfort her, the cool, soft hand of her mistress in hers. It was now burning hot, and her own tears, as they fell, seemed to scald her. But just at that moment a thought darted into her mind, and she has often said that it was a direct inspiration from God. "I will save her!" was the thought. The blood rushed to her head and face, and then retreated again to the heart; she trembled, and, for the first time in her life, the poor African was near fainting. She fell on her knees: "Yes, God help me, I will save her." The operations of the mind at such moments are rapid as lightning; and, in a few moments, her plan was arranged. When Edith awoke and saw the change a few moments had wrought in Dinah's appearance, the light that shone in her eye, and her cheek "flushed through its olive hue," she feared, for an instant, that great anxiety and grief had shaken her reason. "My poor Dinah," she said, taking her hand in hers, "you are ill; you are feverish; you have been too long shut up in this dismal room with me. Go out, I pray you, and take the cool evening air, and I will try to sleep again." It was what Dinah wished, for she desired to consult Paul; but she busied herself with all those little nameless attentions that love alone can devise. As she was folding her mistress's hair for the night, Edith said, "Dinah, I can escape this dreadful death that awaits me." "O, my dear mistress, how?" said Dinah, her whole face quivering with emotion. "With a lie! by confessing that I have tormented that poor child, and that I am myself possessed by evil spirits." Dinah drooped again. "You could not do that," she said; "no, you could not dishonor yourself with a falsehood: but if you could escape without violating your conscience, would you not?" "Certainly," answered Edith: "if God were to place the means of escape within my reach, I would make use of them, as I would use the means to recover from a fever. I should violate no law, for the proceedings against me were unjust, and the testimony false. I could not yield to Seymore's desire that I should escape, because his was one of the voices that condemned me, and he could open my prison door, if at all, only by an open and honorable confession of his error." Dinah trembled with joy at hearing Edith speak thus of her willingness to escape, could it be effected with truth; but she would not hint at her hopes till she had arranged her plan with the assistance of Paul. After a pause, Edith said, "Alas, there is no hope of escape: and why do you fold my hair so carefully? it will never delight your eyes more." Dinah answered, "Never despair: I see a light behind the cloud: the morning is breaking." Dinah consulted Paul, and the plan they concerted together was not difficult to execute. Edith, after long entreaty, yielded to the affectionate creature, and the more readily, as she knew Dinah was so great and universal a favorite in the village that no evil could befall her. After having her complexion darkened with an herb which Dinah had prepared, Edith exchanged clothes with her humble friend; and at night Dinah remained in the prison, while, with infinite precaution, she eluded the observation of the one person who had been placed at the door to guard her. Paul was secreted without, and the trembling Edith, without being observed, found shelter and concealment in the ruined hut of Phoebe's grandmother. Paul, as I have said before, was an excellent boatman. Soon as the first streak of dawning light appeared, secretly and in silence, he dipped his oar into the water. The beautiful morning star shone alone in the sky, and as the shore melted away, Edith strained her eyes to catch the outline of her happy home, and the little mound where her parents reposed. They reached a place of safety, and Edith was soon made happy by hearing of the safety of her affectionate and humble friend. It is well known that this fearful delusion of our country ceased as suddenly as it had risen. Edith was one of the last of the accused. When it was discovered that she had escaped, no inquiries were made, and no regret expressed. "The curtain had fallen, and a close was put to one of the most tremendous tragedies of real life. The wildest storm, perhaps, that ever raged in the moral world, instantly became a calm. The tide that had threatened to overwhelm every thing in its fury sank back, in a moment, to its peaceful bed." What could have been Seymore's emotions when the cloud had vanished, and he stood in the clear sunshine of reason? Happy he was indeed, inexpressibly happy, that his beloved Edith had escaped the most dreadful consequences of this mad delusion. Whether their union ever took place, I must leave to the imagination of my readers. The young who have never had their hearts stirred with a deeper love than that for a pet lamb, or a canary bird, will reject the thought as impossible. The old, if any who have passed the age of thoughtless amusement should condescend to read these pages, perhaps will judge otherwise. Having learned from that severe teacher, experience, how prone we are to err, and how often we need forgiveness from each other, as well as from Heaven; having found, also, that the jewel of true love, though sullied by error, and sometimes mixed with baser stones, yet, like the diamond, can never lose its value,--they will cherish the belief that Seymore found, in the devoted affection of Edith, a balm for his wounded spirit, and an unfailing strength for the duties and trials of life. THE END. 
42550	----	produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive.) MAGIC AND WITCHCRAFT. Reading for Travellers. JUST PUBLISHED, OLD ROADS AND NEW ROADS. PRICE ONE SHILLING. NOTICES OF THE PRESS. _The Daily News._ "Knowledge and amusement are very happily blended together, and the reader who finds his acquaintance with the history of roads increased at the end of his journey, will also find his available fund of anecdote augmented." _The Literary Gazette._ "The book contains little more than a hundred pages, and might be read during the journey by the express train between London and Brighton; but so suggestive is every page, that an intelligent and imaginative reader will not reach the end till the book has been many an hour in his hands." _The Economist._ "This is a pleasant book, somewhat quaint, particularly the preface, but full of amusing and instructive reading." _The Atlas._ "If the other volumes of the series are equal to the present in interest and value, we think we may safely predict a very extensive popularity for the enterprise.... The author has collected from all manner of curious and out-of-the-way sources materials for his book, and it reads like one of old Montaigne's Essays." _The Leader._ "A charming volume of curious and learned gossip, such as would have riveted Charles Lamb by its fine scholarly tone and its discursive wealth. If the other volumes are up to this mark, the series will be by far the best of the many which now make Literature the luxury of the poor." _The Gardeners' Chronicle._ "Exactly the book for the amusement of a man of education. Lively and learned, poetical and practical. This book is to the scholar fatigued with trash like a bottle of rich Hungarian wine to a man who has been condemned to the thin potations of France and the Rheingau." _The Gateshead Observer._ "_Old Roads and New Roads._--(Chapman and Hall, London.) No. I. of 'Reading for Travellers.' A first-rate little volume, printed with large type, and just the thing for a railway ride. The publishers have acted wisely in calling to their aid a scholar and a writer of the highest order." _The Leicestershire Mercury._ "Messrs. Chapman and Hall have re-entered the field of Railway Literature, and have very fittingly commenced their series of 'Reading for Travellers' with a graphic historical sketch of _Old Roads and New Roads_. It is at once scholarly and popular in style and contents----yet free from the slightest tinge of pedantry or affectation. The narrative is by no means a mere dry record of facts and dates. It is abundantly diversified and relieved with illustrative anecdotes and sprightly observations--philosophy and pleasantry combining with genuine erudition to make this one of the most useful and entertaining of the volumes of railway reading with which we have met." MAGIC AND WITCHCRAFT. MAGIC AND WITCHCRAFT. "Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas, Nocturnos lemures, partentaque Thessala rides?" _Hor. Epist. ii. 2. 208._ LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1852. PRINTED BY JOHN EDWARD TAYLOR, LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. PREFACE. We have long wished that some English or foreign university would offer a prize for a history of Magic and Witchcraft. The records of human opinion would contain few chapters more instructive than one which should deal competently with the Black Art. For gross and painful as the details of superstition may be, yet superstition, by its very etymology, implies a dogma or a system of practice standing upon some basis of fact or truth: and however vain or noxious the superstructure may be, the foundation of it is in some way connected with those deep verities upon which rest also the roots of philosophy and religion. For a grand error, and such alone can at any time essentially affect the opinions of mankind in general, is ever the imitation or caricature of some grand truth. From one soil spring originally the tree which yields good fruit and the plant which distils deadly poison. The very discernment of the causes of error is a step towards the discovery of its opposite. The bewilderments of the mind of man, when fully analysed, afford a clue to the course of its movements from the right track, or at least enable us to detect the point at which began the original separation between Truth and Error. Alchemy led, by no very circuitous route, to the science of chemistry; the adoption of false gods by the majority of the human race rendered necessary the dispensations of the Jewish and Christian schemes; and the corruption of true reverence for the Good, the Beautiful, and the Holy, was the parent of those arts, which, under the several appellations of Magic, Witchcraft, Sorcery, etc., drew their professors at first and the multitude afterwards to put faith in the evil, the deformed, and the impure. Magic and Witchcraft are little more than the religious instincts of mankind, first inverted, then polluted, and finally, like all corrupted matter, impregnated with the germs of a corrupt vitality. So universal is the belief in spiritual influences, and more especially in their malignant influences, that no race of men, no period of time, no region of the globe, have been exempt from it. It meets us in the remote antiquity of Asiatic life, in the comparatively recent barbarism of the American aborigines, in the creeds of all the nations who branched off thousands of years ago eastward and westward from their Caucasian cradle, in the myths, the observances, and the dialects of nations who have no other affinity with one another than the mere form of man. No nation, indeed, can reproach another nation with its addiction to magic without in an equal degree condemning itself. All the varieties of mankind have, in this respect, erred alike at different periods of their social existence, and all accordingly come under the same condemnation of making and loving a lie. The Chaldean erred when, dissatisfied with simple observation of the heavenly bodies through the luminous atmosphere of his plains, he perverted astronomy into astrology: the Egyptian erred when he represented the omnipresence of the Deity by the ubiquity of animal worship: the Hindoo erred when, having conceived the idea of an incarnation, he clothed with flesh and fleshly attributes the members of his monstrous pantheon: the Kelt and Teuton erred when, in their silent and solitary forests, they stained the serenity of nature with the deified attributes of war; and the more settled and civilized races who built and inhabited the cities of the ancient world, erred in their conversion of the indivisible unity of the Demiourgos or World-Creator into an anthropomorphic system of several gods. But the very universality of the error points to some common ground for it in the recesses of the human heart; and since Paganism under all its forms was the corruption of religion, and Witchcraft in its turn the corruption of Paganism, an inquiry into the seeds of this evil fruit cannot fail to be also in some measure an investigation of the very 'incunabula' of human error. We have stated, or endeavoured to state, the real scope and dimensions of the subject of Magic and Witchcraft--not however with any purpose of expatiating upon it in so small a volume as the present one. In the pages which follow we offer only a few remarks upon theories or modes of belief which in remote or in nearer ages have affected the creeds and the conduct of mankind. The subject, _in extenso_, belongs to larger volumes, and to maturer learning and meditation. CONTENTS. PAGE The Legendary Lucifer 3 Sources of Superstition 9 Monkish Superstition 11 Executions for Witchcraft 17 Self-Delusions 19 Spectral Illusions 25 Coincidences in Evidence 29 Sweden. The Blocula 31 Delusions 33 Confessions 35 The Reformation 37 Persecutions in Germany 39 Persecutions in Hungary 41 Edict of Louis XIV. 43 Persecution in England 45 Scottish Superstition 49 Trials in Scotland 55 Remarkable Trials 57 Case of Lady Fowlis 59 James the First 65 Tortures 67 Convention of Witches 69 Dr. Fian 71 Euphemia Macalzean 73 Charles the First 75 The Puritans 77 The Restoration 79 Isobel Gowdie 81 Amusements of Witches 83 Anecdotes of Witches 85 Superstitious Enthusiasm 87 Pagan Witchcraft 91 Lucian and Apuleius 93 The Baker's Wife 95 High Treason 97 Later Pagan Superstitions 99 MAGIC AND WITCHCRAFT. An amusing work appeared at Mainz, in 1826, from the pen of "Herr Kirchenrath" Horst, the title of which, translated _in extenso_, runs thus:--"The Magical Library; or, of Magic, Theurgy, and Necromancy; Magicians, Witches, and Witch Trials, Demons, Ghosts, and Spectral Appearances. By G. C. Horst, Church-Counsellor to the Grand Duke of Hesse." The following pages formed a review of this work, which appeared many years ago[1]. * * * * * This book of the worthy Church-Counsellor is rather a singular one: it is not a history of Magic, but a sort of spiritual periodical, or magazine of infernal science, supported in a great measure by contributions from persons of a ghostly turn of mind, who, although they affect occasionally to write in a Sadducee vein, are many of them half-believers at heart, and would not walk through a churchyard at night, except for a consideration larger than we should like to pay. The field over which it travels is too extensive, for us to attempt to follow the author throughout his elaborate subdivisions. Dante divided hell, like Germany, into circles; and Mr. Horst, adopting something of a similar arrangement, has parcelled out the territory of the Prince of the Air into sundry regular divisions, by which its whole bearings and distances are made plain enough for the use of infant schools. It is only at one of the provinces of the Inferno, however, that we can at present afford to glance; though for those who are inclined to make the grand tour, the Counsellor may be taken as an intelligent travelling companion, well acquainted with the road. In fact his work is so methodical and distinct, and the geography of the infernal regions so clearly laid down, according to the best authorities, from Jamblichus and Porphyry down to Glanvil and the Abbé Fiard, that the whole district is now about as well known as the course of the Niger; and it must be the traveller's own fault if he does not find his exit from Avernus as easy as its entrance has proverbially been since the days of Virgil. The picture, however, drawn by these intelligent spiritual travellers is by no means calculated to impress us with a high notion of the dominions of the Prince of the Air, or that the _personnel_ of his majesty or his government are prepossessing. The climate, as all of them, from Faust downwards, agree, is oppressively hot, and the face of the country apparently a good deal like that between Birmingham and Wolverhampton, abounding with furnaces and coal-pits. Literature is evidently at a low ebb, from the few specimens of composition with which we are favoured in the Zauber-Bibliothek, and the sciences, with the exception of some practical applications of chemistry, shamefully neglected. The government seems despotical, but subject to occasional explosions on the part of the more influential spirits concerned in the executive. In fact, the departments of the administration are by no means well arranged; there is no proper division of labour, and the consequence is, that Beelzebub, "Mooned Ashtaroth," and others of the ministry, who, according to the theory of the constitution[2] are entitled to precedence, are constantly jostled and interfered with by Aziel, Mephistopheles, Marbuel, and other forward second-rate spirits, who are continually thrusting in their claws where they are not called for. The standing army is considerable[3], besides the volunteers by which it is continually augmented. Nothing is heard however of the navy, and from the ominous silence which our geographers preserve on this point, it is easy to see that water is a rare element in this quarter. The hints given as to the personal appearance and conduct of Lucifer, the reigning monarch, are not flattering. Common readers are apt to believe that Satan occupies that dignity[4], but this is a great error, and only shows, as Asmodeus told Don Cleofas, when he fell into a similar mistake about Beelzebub, "that they have no true notions of hell." The morals of Lucifer, as might be expected, are as bad as possible, with this exception, that we see no evidence of his being personally addicted to drinking. His licentious habits, however, are attested by many a scandalous chronicle in Sprenger, Delrio, and Bodinus; and for swearing, all the world knows that Ernulphus was but a type of him. His jokes are all practical and of a low order, and there is an utter want of dignity in most of his proceedings. One of his most facetious amusements consists in constantly pulling the spits, on which his witches are riding, from beneath them, and applying them vigorously to their shoulders; and he has more than once administered personal chastisement to his servants, when they neglected to keep an appointment. He is a notorious cheat; many enterprising young men, who have enlisted in his service on the promise of high pay and promotion, having found, on putting their hands into their pockets, that he had paid them their bounty in tin sixpences, and having never risen even to the rank of a corporal. His talent might, from these narratives, be considered very mediocre, and therefore we are afraid that the ingenious selection from his papers, published by Jean Paul[5], must be a literary forgery. At least all his printed speeches are bad,--flashy enough, no doubt, in the commencement, but generally ending in smoke. He has always had a fancy for appearing in masquerade, and once delivered a course of lectures on magic at Salamanca, in the disguise of a professor. So late as 1626, he lived _incog._, but in a very splendid style, for a whole winter, in Milan, under the title of the Duke of Mammon[6]. It is in vain, however, for his partial biographers to disguise the fact, that in his nocturnal excursions, of which, like Haroun Alraschid, he was at one time rather fond, and where, we learn from the Swedish witches, he generally figured in a grey coat and red small-clothes, ornamented with ribbons and blue stockings, he has more than once received a sound drubbing from honest people, whom he has attempted to trip up by laying his tail in their way. And, in fact, since his affair with St. Dunstan, he has kept pretty much withindoors after nightfall. Luther, as we know, kept no terms with him when he began to crack hazel-nuts in his bedroom at the Wartburg, but beat him all to nothing in a fair contest of ribaldry and abuse, besides leaving an indelible blot of ink upon his red smalls[7]. St. Lupus shut him up for a whole night in a pitcher of cold water, into which he had (as he thought, cunningly) conveyed himself, with the hope that the saint would swallow him unawares[8]. This however, considering his ordinary temperature, must have been an act of kindness, which should have brought on St. Lupus the censure of the church. St. Anthony, in return for a very polite offer of his services, spat in his face; which hurt his feelings so much, that it was long before he ventured to appear in society again[9]. And although in his many transactions with mankind he is constantly trying to secure some unfair advantage, a person of any talent, particularly if he has been bred a lawyer[10], is a match for him; and there are numerous cases in the books, in which his majesty, attempting to apprehend the person of a debtor, has been unexpectedly defeated by an ingenious saving clause in the bond, which, like Shylock, he had overlooked, and non-suited in the ecclesiastical courts, where he commonly sues, with costs[11]. Finally, we infer from the Mora Trials, that his general health must have suffered from the climate, for in 1669 he was extremely ill in Sweden; and though he got over the attack for a time, by bleeding and an antiphlogistic regimen, the persons who were about him thought his constitution was breaking up, and that he was still in a dying way. Such is the grotesque aspect of the legendary Lucifer and his court, which a course of dæmonology presents to us! But though we have thus spoken with levity of these gross and palpable conceptions of the evil principle, and though undoubtedly the first impression produced by such a farrago must be a ludicrous one, the subject, we fear, has also its serious side. An Indian deity, with its wild distorted shape and grotesque attitude, appears merely ridiculous when separated from its accessories and viewed by daylight in a museum. But restore it to the darkness of its own hideous temple, bring back to our recollection the victims that have bled upon its altar, or been crushed beneath its car, and our sense of the ridiculous subsides into aversion and horror. So, while the superstitious dreams of former times are regarded as mere speculative insanities, we may for a moment be amused with the wild incoherencies of the patients; but when we reflect that out of these hideous misconceptions of the principle of evil arose the belief in witchcraft; that this was no dead faith, but one operating on the whole being of society, urging on the mildest and the wisest to deeds of murder, or cruelties scarcely less than murder; that the learned and the beautiful, young and old, male and female, were devoted by its influence to the stake and the scaffold,--every feeling disappears except that of astonishment that such things could be, and humiliation at the thought that the delusion was as lasting as it was universal. It is true that the current of human opinion seems now to set in a different direction, and that if the evil spirit of persecution is again to re-appear on earth, his _avatar_ must in all probability be made in a different form. Our brains are no longer, as Dr. Francis Hutchinson says of Bodinus, "mere storehouses for devils to dance in;" and if the influence of the great enemy is still as active as before on earth, in the shape of evil passions, he at least keeps personally in the background, and has changed his tactics entirely since the days of the 'Malleus Maleficarum.' "For Satan now is wiser than before, And tempts by making _rich_--not making _poor_." Still however it is always a useful check to the pride of the human mind, to look to those delusions which have darkened it, more especially to such as have originated in feelings in themselves exalted and laudable. Such is unquestionably the case in regard to one of the gloomiest chapters in the history of human error, the belief in witchcraft and its consequences. The wish to raise ourselves above the visible world, and to connect ourselves with beings supposed to occupy a higher rank in creation, seemed at first calculated to exercise only a beneficent influence on the mind. Men looked upon it as a sort of Jacob's ladder, by which they were to establish a communication between earth and heaven, and by means of which angelic influences might be always ascending and descending upon the heart of man. But, unfortunately, the supposition of this actual and bodily intercourse with spirits of the better order, involved also a similar belief as to the possibility of establishing a free trade with the subterranean powers, "Who lurk in ambush, in their earthy cover, And, swift to hear our spells, come swarming up;" and from these theoretical opinions, once established and acted upon, all the horrors of those tempestuous times flowed as a natural consequence. For thus the kingdoms of light and darkness were brought into open contest: if Satan was ready at every one's call, to send out his spirits like Swiss mercenaries, it became equally necessary for the true believer to rise in arms against him with fire and sword; any wavering on his part was construed into apostasy, and he who did not choose to be persecuted himself was driven in self-defence to become a persecutor. The grand postulate of direct diabolical agency being once assumed and quietly conceded on all hands, any absurdity whatever was easily engrafted on it. Satan being thus brought home, as it were, to men's business and bosoms, every one speculated on his habits and demeanour according to his own light; and soon the insane fancies of minds crazed by nature, disease, or misfortunes, echoed and repeated from all sides, gathered themselves into a code or system of faith, which, being instilled into the mind with the earliest rudiments of instruction, fettered even the strongest intellects with its baleful influence. The mighty minds of Luther, of Calvin, and of Knox, so quick in detecting error, so undaunted and merciless in exposing it, yielded tamely to its thrall; the upright and able Sir Matthew Hale passed sentence of death, in 1664, on two poor women accused of witchcraft, and Sir Thomas Browne, the historian of "Vulgar Errors," who was examined as a witness on the trial, gave it as his opinion that the fits under which the patients had laboured, though natural in themselves, were "heightened by the Devil co-operating with the malice of the witches, at whose instance he did the villanies!" and apparently on this evidence chiefly did the conviction proceed. Neither, in fact, were the incongruities and inconsistencies of the witch-creed of the time so calculated, as they might at first sight appear, to awaken men's minds to the radical insanity of the belief. The dash of the ludicrous, which mingles itself with almost all the exploits of Satan and his satellites, grew, naturally enough, out of the monkish conception of Satan, and might be supposed not inconsistent with the character of a set of beings whose proceedings of course could not be expected to resemble those either of men or angels. The monkish Satan has no dignity about him: in soul and body he is low and deformed. "Gli occhi ha vermigli, e la barba unta ed atra, E 'l ventre largo, ed unghiate le mani, Graffia gli spirti, gli scuoja, ed isquatra[12]." His apish tricks and satyr-like gambols were sufficiently in unison with the idea of a spirit with boundless malice but limited powers, grinning in despite where he could not injure, and ridiculing those sacred rites the power of which he was compelled to acknowledge and obey. Hence he preaches to his infernal flock, and mocks the institution of the sacrament; wreaks his native malice even on his own adherents; plunges his deluded victims into misery, or deserts them in their distress, deprives them of the rewards he has promised to them; plagues and torments the good, but cowers whenever he is boldly resisted, and is at once discomfited by any one who wields by commission the thunders of heaven. Writers of fiction in general have seldom seized these features of his character; indeed hardly any one has done so, except Hoffman, who, in most of his supernatural pictures, has painted him not with the grandeur and sullen gloom of the fallen archangel, but with the coarse and comic malice of the spirit of the middle ages, and has thus, on the whole, deepened the real horror of his goblin scenes by the infusion of these outbreakings of mirth, just as the frightful effect of an execution would be increased, if the criminal, instead of joining in the devotions, were suddenly to strike up a lively air from the top of the ladder. But whether the delusion of witchcraft was thus a natural sequence of the monkish notions of an evil principle, and of the almost universal persuasion that intercourse with a higher order of beings was possible for man, no one can cast a glance over its history without being satisfied that the comprehensive nature of its influence, and its long duration, were owing to penal laws and prosecutions. It adds one more to the long list of instances which prove that there is no opinion, however absurd and revolting, which will not find believers and martyrs, if it is once made the subject of persecution. From the earliest ages of Christianity it is certain the belief existed, and must occasionally have been employed by strong minds as an instrument of terror to the weak; but still the frame of society itself was not shaken, nor, with one exception[13], does the crime begin to make any figure in history till the Bull of Innocent VIII. in 1484 stirred up the slumbering embers into a flame. Of the extent of the horrors which for two centuries and a half followed, our readers we suspect have but a very imperfect conception; we remember as in a dream that on this accusation persons were occasionally burnt, and one or two remarkable relations from our own annals or those of the Continent may occur to our recollection. But of the extent of these judicial murders, no one who has not dabbled a little in the history of demonology has any idea. No sooner has Innocent placed his commission of fire and sword in the hands of Sprenger and his brethren, and a regular form of process for the trial of this offence been laid down in that unparalleled performance, the 'Malleus Maleficarum,' which was intended as a theological and juridical commentary on the Bull, than the race of witches seems at once to increase and multiply, till it replenishes the earth. The original edict of persecution was enforced by the successive bulls of the infamous Alexander VI. in 1494 (to whom Satan might indeed have addressed the remonstrance "et tu Brute!"), of Leo X. in 1521, and of Adrian VI. in 1522. Still the only effect of these commissions was to render the evil daily more formidable, till at last, if we are to believe the testimonies of contemporary historians, Europe was little better than a large suburb or outwork of Pandemonium. One-half of the population was either bewitching or bewitched. Delrio tells us in his preface that 500 witches were executed in Geneva in three months, about the year 1515. A thousand, says Bartholomæus de Spina, were executed in one year in the diocese of Como, and they went on burning at the rate of a hundred per annum for some time after. In Lorraine, from 1580 to 1595, Remigius boasts of having burned 900. In France the multitude of executions about 1520 is incredible; Danæus, in the first part of his dialogue concerning witches, calls it "infinitum pene veneficorum numerum." The well-known sorcerer, _Trois Echelles_, told Charles IX., while he was at Poitou, the names of 1200 of his associates. This calculation is according to Mezeray's more reasonable version of the story, for the author of the 'Journal du Règne de Henri III.' makes the number 3000, and Bodinus, not satisfied even with this allowance, adds a cypher, and makes the total return of witches denounced by Trois Echelles 30,000, though he does at the same time express some doubt as to the correctness of this account. In Germany, to which indeed the bull of Innocent bore particular reference, this plague raged to a degree almost inconceivable. Bamberg, Paderborn, Wurtzburg, and Treves were its chief seats, though for a century and a half after the introduction of the trials under the commission no quarter of that great empire was free from its baneful influence. It would be wearisome and revolting to go through the details of these atrocities; but "ab uno disce omnes." A catalogue of the executions at Wurtzburg for the period from 1627 to February 1629, about two years and two months, is printed by Hauber in the conclusion of his third volume of the 'Acta et Scripta Magica.' It is regularly divided into twenty-nine burnings, and contains the names of 157 persons, Hauber stating at the same time that the catalogue is not complete. It is impossible to peruse this catalogue without horror. The greater part of it consists of old women or foreign travellers, seized, it would appear, as foreigners were at Paris during the days of Marat and Robespierre: it contains children of twelve, eleven, ten, and nine years of age, fourteen vicars of the cathedral, two boys of noble families, the two little sons (_söhnlein_) of the senator Stolzenburg; a stranger boy; a blind girl; Gobel Babelin, the handsomest girl in Wurtzburg, etc. "Sanguine placârunt Divos _et virgine cæsá_!" And yet, frightful as this list of 157 persons executed in two years appears, the number is not (taking the population of Wurtzburg into account) so great as in the Lindheim process from 1660 to 1664. For in that small district, consisting at the very utmost of six hundred inhabitants, thirty persons were condemned and put to death, making a twentieth part of the whole population consumed in four years. How dreadful are the results to which these data lead! If we take 157 as a fair average of the executions at Wurtzburg (and the catalogue itself states that the list was by no means complete), the amount of executions there in the course of the century preceding 1628 would be 15,700. We know that from 1610 to 1660 was the great epoch of the witch trials, and that so late as 1749 Maria Renata was executed at Wurtzburg for witchcraft; and though in the interval between 1660 and that date it is to be hoped that the number of these horrors had diminished, there can be little doubt that several thousands must be added to the amount already stated. If Bamberg, Paderborn, Treves, and the other Catholic bishoprics, whose zeal was not less ardent, furnished an equal contingent, and if the Protestants, as we know[14], actually vied with them in the extent to which these cruelties were carried, the number of victims from the date of Innocent's bull to the final extinction of these persecutions must considerably exceed 100,000 in Germany. Even the feeling of horror excited by the perusal of the Wurtzburg murders is perhaps exceeded by that to which another document relative to the state of matters in 1629 must give rise: namely a ballad on the subject of these executions, detailing in doggrel verses the sufferings of the unfortunate victims, "to be sung to the tune of Dorothea"--a common street-song of the day. It is entitled the 'Druten Zeitung,' or Witches' Chronicle, "being an account of the remarkable events which took place in Franconia, Bamberg, and Wurtzburg, with those wretches who from avarice or ambition have sold themselves to the devil, and how they had their reward at last; set to music, and to be sung to the air of Dorothea." It is graced also with some hideous devices in wood, representing three devils seizing on divers persons by the hair of their heads, legs, etc., and dragging them away. It commences and concludes with some pious reflections on the guilt of the witches and wizards, whose fate it commemorates with the greatest glee and satisfaction. One device in particular, by which a witch who had obstinately resisted the torture is betrayed into confession--namely, by sending into her prison the hangman disguised as her familiar (Buhl Teufel)--seems to meet with the particular approbation of the author, who calls it an excellent joke; and no doubt the point of it in his eyes was very much increased by the consideration that upon the confession, as it was called, so obtained, the unhappy wretch was immediately committed to the flames[15]. What are we to think of the state of feeling in the country where these horrors were thus made the subject of periodical ballads, and set to music for the amusement of the populace[16]? It was one fatal effect of the perseverance with which Satan and his dealings were thus brought before the view of every one, that thousands of weak and depraved minds were actually led into the belief that they had formed a connection with the evil being, and that the visions which had so long haunted the brain of Sprenger and his associates had been realized in their own case. In this way alone can we in some measure account for the strange confessions which form the great peculiarity in the witch trials, where unhappy creatures, with the full knowledge of their fate, admit their intercourse with Satan, their midnight meetings, incantations, their dealings with spirits, "white, black, and grey, with all their trumpery," the grotesque horrors of the sabbath,--in short, every wild and impossible phantasm which had received colour and a body in the 'Malleus,'--and seemed to be perfectly satisfied that they had fully merited the fiery trial to which their confession immediately subjected them. When we read these trials, we think of the effect of the Jew's fiddle in Grimm's fairy tale; we see the delusion spreading like an epidemic from one to another, till first the witnesses, then the judges, and lastly the poor criminals themselves, all yield to the giddy whirl, and go off like dancing Dervises under its influence. True it is that, in many of the cases, and particularly those which occur in the earlier part of the seventeenth century, when the diabolical doctrines of Sprenger and Delrio were in their full vigour, the confessions on which these convictions proceeded were elicited by torture, moral and physical, and frequently retracted, till a fresh application of the rack produced a fresh admission. One instance from Delrio may stand in place of a thousand. He mentions that an unfortunate gentleman in Westphalia had been twenty times put to the rack, "vicies sævæ quæstioni subditum," in order to compel him to confess that he was a were-wolf! All these tortures he resisted, till the hangman gave him an intoxicating draught, and under its influence he confessed that he _was_ a were-wolf after all. "En judicum _clemens_ arbitrium," says Delrio, "quo se porrigat in illis partibus aquilonaribus."--See how long-suffering we judges are in the north! we never put our criminals to death till we have tried them with twenty preliminary courses of torture! This is perfectly in the spirit of another worthy in Germany, who had been annoyed with the pertinacity of a witch, who, like the poor lycanthrope, persisted in maintaining her innocence. "Da liess ich sie tüchtig foltern," says the inquisitor--"und sie gestand;"--I tortured her _tightly_ (the torture lasted four hours), and she confessed! Who indeed under such a system would not have confessed? Death was unavoidable either way, and the great object was to attain that consummation with the least preparatory pain. "I went," says Sir George Mackenzie, "when I was a Justice Depute, to examine some women who had confessed judicially. One of them, who was a silly creature, told me that she had not confessed because she was guilty, but, being a poor creature who wrought for her meat, and being defamed for a witch, she knew she would starve, for no person hereafter would give her meat or lodging, and that all men would beat her and hound dogs at her, and that therefore she desired to be out of the world. Whereupon she wept most bitterly, and upon her knees called God to witness to what she said[17]." In other cases, the torture was applied not only to the individual accused, but to his relations or friends, to secure confession. In Alison Pearson's case[18], it appears that her daughter, a girl of nine years of age, had been placed in the _pilliewinks_, and her son subjected to about fifty strokes in the _boots_. Where the torture was not corporeally applied, terror, confusion, and the influence of others frequently produced the same effect on the weak minds of the accused. In the case of the New England witches in 1696, six of the poor women who were liberated in the general gaol-delivery which took place after this reign of terror began to decline, (and who had all confessed previously that they had been guilty of the witchcrafts imputed to them,) retracted their confessions in writing, attributing them to the consternation produced by their sudden seizure and imprisonment. "And indeed," said they, "that confession which it is said we made was no other than what was suggested to us by some gentlemen, they telling us we were witches, and they knew it, and we knew it, and they knew that we knew it, which made us think that it was so, and our understanding, our reason, and our faculties almost gone, we were not capable of judging our condition. And most of what we said was but a consenting to what they said[19]." But though unquestionably great part of these confessions, which at first tended so much to prolong this delusion, were obtained by torture, or contrary to the real conviction and belief of the accused, it is impossible to deny that in many cases the confessions were voluntary, and proceeded from actual belief. Nor was it to be wondered at that persons of a weak and melancholy temperament should, more particularly at a time when the phenomena of nature and of the human body were so little understood, be disposed to set down every occurrence which they could not explain, and every wild phantasm which crossed their minds, to the direct and immediate agency of an evil power. At that period even the most natural events were ascribed to witchcraft. If a child, after being touched by a suspected individual, died or became ill, the convulsions were ascribed to diabolical interference, as in Wenham's case, so late as 1712[20]. If, on the contrary, she cured instead of killing, the conclusion was the same, although the only charm employed might be a prayer to the Almighty[21]. If an old woman's cat, coming to the door at night, took part in a concert with other cats, this was nothing but a witch herself in disguise[22]. In the case of Robert Erskine of Dun[23], tried for the murder of his nephews, he is indicted for making away with them by _poisoning_ and _witchcraft_, as if the poisoning was not of itself amply sufficient to account for their death. It was still less wonderful that those mysterious phenomena which sometimes occur in the human frame, such as spontaneous combustion, delusions arising from the state of the brain and nerves, and optical deceptions, should appear to the sufferer to be the work of the devil, whose good offices they might very probably have invoked under some fit of despondency or misanthropy, little expecting, like the poor man in the fable who called on Death, to be taken at their word. What a "Thesaurus of Horror" would the spectres of Nicolai have afforded in the sixteenth century or the commencement of the seventeenth, if embodied in the pages of the 'Malleus' or the 'Flagellum Dæmonum,' instead of being quietly published by the patients as optical and medical phenomena in the 'Berlinische Monatschrift' for 1799, and the 15th volume of the 'Philosophical Journal!' What a fearful glimpse into the infernal world would have been afforded by the still more frightful illusions which haunted poor Backzko of Königsberg[24] during his political labours in 1806; the grinning negro who seated himself opposite to him, the owl-headed tormentor that used to stare at him every night through his curtains, the snakes twisting and turning about his knees as he turned his periods! If we go back to 1651, we find our English Jacob Böhme, Pordage[25], giving an account of visions which must have been exactly of the same kind, arising from an excited state of the brain, with the most thorough conviction of their reality. His Philadelphian disciples, Jane Leade, Thomas Bromley, Hooker, Sapperton, and others, were indulged, on the first meeting of their society, with a vision of unparalleled splendour. The princes and powers of the infernal world passed in review before them, sitting in coaches, surrounded with dark clouds and drawn by a _cortége_ of lions, dragons, tigers, and bears; then followed the lower spirits arranged in squadrons with cats' ears, claws, twisted limbs, etc.; whether they shut their eyes or kept them open, the appearances were equally distinct; "for we saw," says the master-spirit Pordage, "with the eyes of the mind, not with those of the body." "And shapes that come not at a mortal call Will not depart when mortal voices bid. Lords of the visionary eye, whose lid Once raised remains aghast, and will not fall[26]." Thus, while phenomena which experience has since shown to be perfectly natural were universally attributed to supernatural causes, men had come to be on the most familiar footing with spiritual beings of all kinds. In the close of the sixteenth century, Dr. Dee was, according to his own account, and we verily believe his own conviction, on terms of intimacy with most of the angels. His brother physician, Dr. Richard Napier, a relation of the inventor of the logarithms, got almost all his medical prescriptions from the angel Raphael. Elias Ashmole had a MS. volume of these receipts, filling about a quire and a half of paper[27]. In fact, one would almost suppose that few persons at that time condescended to perform a cure by natural means. Witness the sympathetic nostrums of Valentine Greatrakes and Sir Kenelm Digby; or the case of Arise Evans, reported by Aubrey, who "had a fungous nose, and to whom it was _revealed_ that the king's hand would cure him; and at the first coming of King Charles II. into St. James's Park he kissed the king's hand and _rubbed his nose with it, which troubled the king, but cured him_." In Aubrey's time, too, the visits of ghosts had become so frequent, that they had their exits and their entrances without exciting the least sensation. Aubrey makes an entry in his journal of the appearance of a ghost as coolly as a merchant now-a-days makes an entry in his ledger. "Anno 1670. Not far from Cirencester was an apparition. Being demanded whether good spirit or bad, returned no answer, but disappeared with a curious perfume and a melodious twang." Is it to be wondered at then, that, surrounded on all hands with such superstitious fancies, the weak and depraved were early brought to believe that all the wild chimeras of the demonologists were true, and that they had really concluded that covenant with Satan, the possibility of which was universally inculcated as an article of faith, and the idea of which was constantly present to their minds? or that, under the influence of this frightful delusion, they should voluntarily come forward to confess their imaginary crime, as in the Amsterdam case of the poor girl who accused herself of bewitching cattle by the words Shurius, Turius, Tirius[28], or in another still more remarkable case in 1687, mentioned in Reichard's 'Beyträge,' where a young woman accused herself, her friend, and the mother of her friend, of a long course of witchcraft, with all the usual traditional and impossible horrors of Sprenger and his brethren? Neither, we are afraid, is there much reason to doubt that some of the most horrible of their conceptions were founded on facts which were but too real; that the cunning and the depraved contrived to turn the ecstasies and the fears of these poor wretches to their own purposes; in short, that frauds similar to those which Boccaccio has painted in his novel of the angel Gabriel, were occasionally played off upon the deluded victims. Without entering further on a topic which is rather of a delicate kind, the reader will have an idea of our meaning who recollects the disclosures that took place in the noted French case of Father Girard and La Cadière. Much has been said as to the wonderful coincidences to be found in the evidence of the accused when examined separately, the minuteness of their details, and the general harmony of the infernal narratives, as collected from the witch trials of different countries. But the truth is that this assertion must in the first place be received with great limitations; for in many cases, where, accepting the assertions of Sprenger and the rest as true, we should suppose the coincidence to be complete, the original confessions which still exist prove that the resemblance was merely general, and that there were radical and irreconcileable differences in the details of the evidence. Inasfar as the assertion is really true, one simple explanation goes far to account for the phenomenon;--"Insanire parent _certâ ratione_ modoque." The general notions of the devil and his demeanour, the rites of the infernal sabbath, etc. being once fixed, the visions which crossed the minds of the unfortunate wretches accused soon assumed a pretty determinate and invariable form; so that, even if left to tell their own story, there would have been the closest resemblance between the narratives of different persons. But this was not all. In almost every case the confessions were merely the echo of questions put by the inquisitors, all of which again were founded on the demonological creed of the 'Malleus.' One set of questions is put to all the witches, and the answers, being almost always simple affirmatives, necessarily correspond. Hence it is amusing enough to observe how different were the results, when the process of investigation fell into the hands of persons to whom Sprenger's manual was unknown. In the Lindheim trials in 1633, to which we have already alluded, the inquisitor happened to be an old soldier, who had witnessed several campaigns in the Thirty Years War, and who, instead of troubling his head about Incubi, Succubi, and the other favourite subjects of inquiry with the disciples of the Hammer, was only anxious to ascertain who was the queen of the infernal spirits, the general, officers, _corporals_, etc., to all of which he received answers as distinct and satisfactory as any that are recorded for our instruction in the chronicles of Bodinus or Delrio. In the seventeenth century, the manner in which the delusion was communicated seems exactly to resemble those remarkable instances of sympathy which occur in the cases of the Scottish Cambuslang Conversions and the American Forest Preachings. No sooner has one hypochondriac published his symptoms, than fifty others feel themselves at once affected with the same disorder. In the celebrated Mora case in 1669, with which of course all the readers of Glanvil (and who has not occasionally peeped into his horrors?) are familiar, the disease spreads first through the children, who believed themselves the victims of diabolical agency, and who ascribed the convulsions, faintings, etc., with which they were attacked, to that cause; and next through the unfortunate witches themselves, for as soon as one or two of them, bursting into tears, confessed that the accusation of the children was true, all the rest joined in the confession. And what is the nature of their confession? Of all impossible absurdities that ever entered the brain of man, this trial is the epitome. They meet the devil nightly on the Blocula, which is the devil's ball-room in Sweden, as the Brocken is in Germany; they ride thither on sticks, goats, men's backs, and spits; they are baptized by a priest provided by the devil; they sup with him, very frugally it would appear, for the banquet commonly consists of broth made with colewort and bacon, oatmeal, bread and butter, milk and cheese; and the devil allows no wine. After supper they dance, and when the devil wishes to be particularly jolly he pulls the spits from under them, and beats them black and blue, after which he sits down and laughs outrageously. Sometimes he treats them to a musical exhibition on the harp, for he has a great turn for music, as his famous sonata to Tartini proves. All of them confess intercourse with him[29], and most of them had sons and daughters by him. Occasionally he fell sick, and required to be bled and blistered; and once he seemed to be dead, on which occasion there was a general mourning for him on the Blocula, as the Syrian damsels used to bewail the annual wound of their idol Thammuz on Lebanon. Is it not frightful to think that in a trial held before a tribunal consisting of the _élite_ of the province of Dalecarlia, assisted by the commissioners from the capital,--in a country where, until this time, the witch mania, already beginning to abate in Germany, had scarcely been heard of, and where it ceased earlier perhaps than in most other countries in Europe,--seventy-two women and fifteen children should have been condemned and executed at one time upon such confessions? Is it possible after this to read without shuddering the cool newspaper-like conclusion of Dr. Horneck--"On the 25th of August execution was done upon the notoriously guilty, _the day being bright and glorious, and the sun shining_, and some thousands of people being present at the spectacle!" Thirty years before, a similar instance of the progress of the epidemic had taken place at Lille, in the hospital founded by the pious enthusiast Antoinette Bourignon. On entering the schoolroom one day, she imagined that she saw a number of little black children, with wings, flying about the heads of the girls; and not liking the colour or appearance of these visitors, she warned her pupils to be on their guard. Shortly before this, a girl who had run away from the institution in consequence of being confined for some misdemeanour of which she had been guilty, being interrogated how she had contrived to escape, and not liking probably to disclose the truth, had maintained that she had been liberated by the devil, to whose service she had devoted herself from a child. Nothing more was wanting in that age of _diablerie_ to turn the heads of the poor children; in the course of six months almost all the girls in the hospital, amounting to more than fifty, had confessed themselves confirmed witches, and admitted the usual intercourse with the devil, the midnight meetings, dances, banquets, etc., which form the staple of the narrative of the time. Their ideal banquets seem to have been on a more liberal scale however than those of the poor Mora witches; probably because many of the pupils had been accustomed to better fare in a populous and wealthy town in Flanders, than the others in a poor village in Sweden. Exorcisms and prayers of all kinds followed this astounding disclosure. The Capuchins and Jesuits quarrelled, the Capuchins implicitly believing the reality of the possession, the Jesuits doubting it. The parents of the culprit now turned the tables upon poor Bourignon, by accusing her of having bewitched them; and at last the pious theosophist, after an examination before the Council, was glad to seek safety in flight; having thus obtained a clearer notion than she formerly possessed of the kingdom of Satan, with regard to which she had entertained and published as many strange fancies as the Bishop of Benevento; and having been taught by her own experience the danger of tampering with youthful minds, in which the train of superstition had been so long laid, that it only required a spark from her overheated brain to kindle it into a flame. It would appear too that physical causes, and in particular nervous affections of a singular kind, had about this time mingled with and increased the delusion which had taken its rise in these superstitious conceptions of the devil and his influence. During the very year (1669) in which the children at Mora were suffering under convulsions and fainting fits, those in the Orphan Hospital at Hoorn, in Holland, were labouring under a malady exactly similar; but though the phenomena were attributed to diabolical agency, the suspicions of the public fortunately were not directed to any individual in particular. Another instance of the same kind had taken place about a century before in the Orphan Hospital at Amsterdam, of which a particular account is given in Dapper's history of that city, where the number of children supposed to be bewitched amounted to about seventy, and where the evil was attributed to some unhappy old women, before whose houses the affected urchins, when led out into the streets, had been more than usually clamorous. Such also appears to have been the primary cause of the tragedies in New England in 1699; of the demoniac exhibitions at Loudon, which were made a pretext for the murder of the obnoxious Grandier; of the strange incidents which occurred so late as 1749 in the convent of Unterzell at Wurtzburg; and of most of the other more remarkable cases of supposed possession. The mysterious principle of sympathy, operating in weak minds, will in fact be found to be at the root of most of the singular phenomena in the history of witchcraft. No wonder then that after the experience of a century, the judges, and even the ignorant public themselves, came at last to suspect that, however the principle might apply to other crimes, the confession of the criminal was not, in cases of witchcraft, the _best_ evidence of the fact. In the New England cases, says Mr. Calef (April 25, 1693), "one was tried that confessed; but they were now so well taught what weight to lay upon confessions, that the jury brought her in not guilty, although she confessed she was." But what a deluge of blood had been shed before even this principle came to be recognized, and still more before the judicial belief in the existence of the crime was fully eradicated! What a spectacle does Europe present from the date of Innocent's Bull down to the commencement of the eighteenth century! Sprenger, Henry Institor, Geiss von Lindheim, and others in Germany; Cumanus in Italy; the Inquisition in Spain; Remigius, Bodinus, and De l'Ancre in France and Lorraine, flooring witches on all sides with the 'Malleus Maleficarum,' or flogging them to death with the 'Flagellum' and 'Fustis Dæmonum;' Holland, Geneva, Sweden, Denmark, England, and Scotland vying with each other in the number of trials and the depth of their infatuation and bigotry! The Reformation, which uprooted other errors, only strengthened and fostered this. Every town and village on the continent was filled with spies, accusers, and wretches who made their living by pretending to detect the secret marks which indicated a compact with the devil[30],--inquisitors, judges, advocates, executioners, every one connected with these frightful tribunals, on the watch for anything which might afford the semblance of suspicion. To ensure the death or ruin of an enemy, nothing more was necessary in most cases than to throw into this lion's mouth an accusation of magic against him. "Vix aliquis eorum," says Linden, the determined foe of these proceedings, "qui accusati sunt, supplicium evasit." The fate of Edelin, of Urban Grandier, and of the Maréchale d'Ancre in France, of Doctor Flaet and Sidonia von Vork in Germany, and of Peter of Abano in Italy[31], prove how often the accusation of sorcery was not even believed by the accusers themselves, but was resorted to merely as a certain means to get rid of an obnoxious enemy. Meanwhile the notaries' clerks and officials, labouring in their vocation, grew rich from the enormous fees attendant on these trials; the executioner became a personage of first-rate consequence: "generoso equo instar aulici nobilis ferebatur, auro argentoque vestitus: uxor ejus vestium luxu certabat cum nobilioribus[32]." Some partial diminution of this persecuting zeal took place in consequence of a Rescript of John VII. (18th December, 1591), addressed to the commission, by which the fees of court were restricted within more moderate bounds; but still the profits arising from this trade in human victims were sufficient to induce the members and dependants of court, like the Brahmins in India, to support with all their might this system of purification by fire. At last however the horrors of Wurtzburg and Treves began to open the eyes even of the dullest to the progress of the danger, which, commencing like Elijah's cloud, had gradually overshadowed the land. While the executions were confined to the lower classes, to crazed old women or unhappy foreigners, even those whose more vigorous intellect enabled them to resist the popular contagion chose rather to sit by spectators of these horrors, than to expose themselves to the fate of Edelin or Flaet, by attacking the madness in which they originated. But now, when the pestilence, spreading on and on, threatened the lives of more exalted victims,--when noblemen and abbots, presidents of courts and professors, began to swell the catalogue, and when no man felt secure that he might not suddenly be compelled by torture to bear witness against his own innocent wife or children,--selfishness began to co-operate with truth and reason. So, in the same way, in the case of the New England witchcrafts, the first effectual check which they received was from the accusation of Mrs. Hale, the clergyman's wife: her husband, who till then had been most active in the persecution, immediately received a new light with regard to the transaction, and exerted his whole influence for the suppression of the trials. The first decisive blow which the doctrines of the inquisitors received in Germany was from the publication of the 'Cautio Criminalis,' in 1631. In the sixteenth century, it is true that Ponzonibius, Wierus, Pietro d'Apone, and Reginald Scott had published works which went to impugn their whole proceedings; but the works of the foreigners were almost unknown in Germany, and that of Wierus was nearly as absurd and superstitious as the doctrines he combated. It is little to the credit of the Reformers that the first work in which the matter was treated in a philosophical, humane, and common-sense view should have been the production of a Catholic Jesuit, Frederick Spee, the descendant of a noble family in Westphalia. So strongly did this exposure of the horrors of the witch trials operate on the mind of John Philip Schonbrunn, Bishop of Wurtzburg, and finally Archbishop and Elector of Mentz, that his first care on assuming the Electoral dignity was to abolish the process entirely within his dominions--an example which was soon after followed by the Duke of Brunswick and others of the German princes. Shortly after this the darkness begins to break up, and the dawning of better views to appear, though still liable to partial and temporary obscurations,--the evil apparently shifting further north, and re-appearing in Sweden and Denmark in the shape of the trials at Mora and Fioge. Reichard[33] has published a rescript of Frederick William, Elector of Brandenburg, bearing date the 4th of November, 1654, addressed to the judges in reference to the case of Ann of Ellerbroke, enjoining that the prisoner should be allowed to be heard in defence, before any torture was resorted to (a principle directly the reverse of those maintained by the inquisitorial courts), and expressly reprobating the proof by water as an unjust and deceitful test, to which no credit was to be given. Even where a conviction takes place, as in the Neuendorf trial of Catherine Sempels, we find the sentence of death first passed upon her by the provincial judges, commuted into imprisonment for life by the Electoral Chamber in 1671,--a degree of lenity which never could have taken place during the height of the mania. In 1701 the celebrated inaugural Thesis of Thomasius, 'De Crimine Magiæ,' was publicly delivered, with the highest applause, in the University of Halle, a work which some fifty years before would assuredly have procured the author no other crown but that of martyrdom, but which was now received with general approbation, as embodying the views which the honest and intelligent had long entertained. Thomasius's great storehouse of information and argument was the work of Bekker, who again had modelled his on the Treatise of Van Dale on Oracles; and Thomasius, while he adopted his facts and arguments, steered clear of those Cartesian doctrines which had been the chief cause why the work of Bekker had produced so little practical effect. Still, notwithstanding the good thus produced, the fire of persecution seems to have been smothered only, not extinguished. In 1728 it flamed up again at Szegedin in Hungary, where thirteen persons were burnt alive on three scaffolds, for witchcraft, under circumstances of horror worthy of the wildest periods of this madness. And so late as 1749 comes the frightful story of Maria Renata, of Wurtzburg, the whole official details of which are published by Horst, and which in its atrocity was worthy to conclude the long series of murders which had polluted the annals of Bamberg. This trial is remarkable from the feeling of disgust it seems to have excited in Germany, Italy, and France; and the more so because, whatever may be thought of the reality of her pretensions, there seems to be no doubt from the evidence that Maria was by no means immaculate, but _was_ a dabbler in spells and potions, a _venefica_ in the sense of the Theodosian code. But there is a time, as Solomon says, for everything under the sun; and the glories of the 'Malleus Maleficarum' were departed. The consequence was, that taking this trial as their text-book, various foreigners, particularly Maffei, Tartarotti, and Dell' Ossa, attacked the system so vigorously, that since that time the adherents of the old superstition seem to have abandoned the field in Germany. Matters had come to a close much sooner in Switzerland and France. In the Catholic canton of Glarus, it is said, a witch was burnt even so late as 1786; but in the Protestant cantons no trials seem to have taken place for two centuries past. The last execution in Geneva was that of Michel Chauderon, in 1652. Sebastian Michaelis indeed would have us to believe, that at one time the tribunal at Geneva put no criminals accused of witchcraft to death, unless on proof of their having done actual injury to men or animals, and that the other phenomena of confessions, etc., were regarded as mere mental delusions. If such however was originally the case, this humane rule was unfortunately soon abandoned; for nowhere did the mania of persecution at one time rage more than in Geneva, as is evident from Delrio's preface. It seems fairly entitled however to the credit of having been the first state in Europe which emancipated itself from the influence of this bloody superstition. In France, the edict of Louis XIV., in 1682, directed only against _pretended_ witches and prophets, proves distinctly that the belief in the reality of witchcraft had ceased, and that it was merely the pretended exercise of such powers which it was thought necessary to suppress. It is highly to the credit of Louis and his ministry, that this step was taken by him in opposition to a formal _requête_ by the Parliament of Normandy, presented in the year 1670, on the occasion of his Majesty having commuted the punishment of death into banishment for life, in the case of a set of criminals whom the Parliament had condemned _more majorum_ for witchcraft[34]. In this apology for their belief, they reminded Louis of the inveterate practice of the kingdom; of the numerous arrêts of the Parliament of Paris, from the trials in Artois in 1459, reported by Monstrelet, down to that of Leger in May 1616; of the judgments pronounced under the commission addressed by Henry the Great to the Sieur de l'Ancre, in 1609; of those pronounced by the Parliament of Toulouse, in 1577; of the celebrated case of Gaufridy, in 1611; of the _arrêts_ of the Parliaments of Dijon and Rennes, following on the remarkable trial of the Maréchal de Retz, in 1441, who was burnt for magic and sorcery in the presence of the Duke of Bretagne: and after combating the authority of a canon of the Council of Aucyra, and of a passage in St. Augustine, which had been quoted against them by their opponents, they sum up their pleading with the following placid and charitable supplication to his Majesty--"Qu'elle voudra bien souffrir l'exécution des arrêts qu'ils ont rendus, et leur permettre de continuer l'instruction et jugement des procès des personnes accusés de sortilège, et que la piété de Votre Majesté ne souffrira pas que l'on introduise durant son règne une nouvelle opinion contraire aux principes de la religion, pour laquelle Votre Majesté a toujours si glorieusement employé ses soins et ses armes." Notwithstanding this concluding compliment to his Majesty's zeal and piety, it is doubtful whether the Parliament of Normandy, in their anxiety for the support of their constitutional privileges, could have taken a more effectual plan to ruin their own case, than by thus presenting Louis with a sort of anthology or elegant extracts from the atrocities of the witch trials; and in all probability the appearance of the edict of 1680 was accelerated by the very remonstrance by which the Norman sages had hoped to strangle it. In turning from the Continent to the state of matters in England and Scotland, the prospect is anything but a comfortable one; and certainly nothing can be more deceitful than the unction which Dr. Francis Hutchinson lays to his soul, when he ventures to assert that England was one of those countries where its horrors were least felt and earliest suppressed. Witness the trials and convictions which, even before the enactment of any penal statute, took place for this imaginary offence, as in the case of Bolingbroke and Margery Jourdain, whose incantations the genius of Shakespear has rendered familiar to us in the Second Part of King Henry VI. Witness the successive statutes of Henry VIII., of Elizabeth, and of James I., the last of which was repealed only in 1736, and passed while Coke was Attorney-General, and Bacon a member of the Commons! Witness the exploits of Hopkins, the witch-finder-general, against the wretched creatures in Lincolnshire, of whom-- "Some only for not being drown'd, And some for sitting above ground Whole nights and days upon their breeches, And feeling pain, were hanged for witches." _Hudibras_, part ii. canto iii. What would the Doctor have said to the list of THREE THOUSAND victims executed during the dynasty of the Long Parliament alone, which Zachary Grey, the editor of Hudibras, says he himself perused? What absurdities can exceed those sworn to in the trials of the witches of Warboys, whose fate was, in Dr. Hutchinson's days, and perhaps is still, annually "improved" in a commemoration sermon at Cambridge? or in the case of the luckless Lancashire witches, sacrificed, as afterwards appeared, to the villany of the impostor Robinson, whose story furnished materials to the dramatic muse of Heywood and Shadwell? How melancholy is the spectacle of a man like Hale, condemning Amy Duny and Rose Cullender, in 1664, on evidence which, though corroborated by the opinion of Sir Thomas Browne, a child would now be disposed to laugh at? A better order of things, it is true, commences with the Chief-justiceship of Holt. The evidence against Mother Munnings, in 1694, would, with a man of weaker intellect, have sealed the fate of the unfortunate old woman; but Holt charged the jury with such firmness and good sense, that a verdict of Not Guilty, almost the first then on record in a trial for witchcraft, was found. In about ten other trials before Holt, from 1694 to 1701, the result was the same. Wenham's case, which followed in 1711, sufficiently evinced the change which had taken place in the feelings of judges. Throughout the whole trial, Chief Justice Powell seems to have sneered openly at the absurdities which the witnesses, and in particular the clergymen who were examined, were endeavouring to press upon the jury; but, with all his exertions, a verdict of guilty was found against the prisoner. With the view however of securing her pardon, by showing how far the prejudices of the jury had gone, he asked, when the verdict was given in, "whether they found her guilty upon the indictment for conversing with the devil in the shape of a cat?" The foreman answered, "We find her guilty of that!" It is almost needless to add that a pardon was procured for her. And yet after all this, in 1716, Mrs. Hicks and her daughter, aged _nine_, were hanged at Huntingdon for selling their souls to the devil, and raising a storm, by pulling off their stockings and making a lather of soap! With this crowning atrocity, the catalogue of murders in England closes; the penal statutes against witchcraft being repealed in 1736, and the pretended exercise of such arts being punished in future by imprisonment and pillory. Even yet however the case of Rex _v._ Weldon, in 1809, and the still later case of Barker _v._ Ray, in Chancery (August 2, 1827), proves that the popular belief in such practices has by no means ceased; and it is not very long ago that a poor woman narrowly escaped with her life from a revival of Hopkins's trial by water[35]. Barrington, in his observations on the statute 20 Henry VI., does not hesitate to estimate the numbers of those put to death in England on this charge at 30,000! We now turn to Scotland. Much light has been thrown on the rise and progress, decline and fall, of the delusion in that country by the valuable work of Mr. Pitcairn[36], which contains abstracts of every trial in the supreme Criminal Court of Scotland: the author has given a faithful and minute view of the procedure in each case, accompanied with full extracts from the original documents, where they contained anything of interest. In no country perhaps did this gloomy superstition assume a darker or bloodier character than in Scotland. Wild, mountainous, and pastoral countries, partly from the striking, varied, and sometimes terrible phenomena which they present,--partly from the habits and manner of life, the tendency to thought and meditation which they create and foster,--have always been the great haunts in which superstition finds its cradle and home. The temper of the Scots, combining reflection with enthusiasm--their mode of life in earlier days, which amidst the occasional bustle of wild and agitating exertion, left many intervals of mental vacuity in solitude--their night watches by the cave on the hill-side--their uncertain climate, of sunshine and vapour and storm--all contributed to exalt and keep alive that superstitions fear with which ignorance looks on every extraordinary movement of nature. From the earliest period of the Scottish annals, "All was bot gaistis, and eldrich phantasie;" the meteors and auroræ boreales which prevailed in this mountainous region were tortured into apparitions of horsemen combating in the air, or corpse-candles burning on the hill-tops[37]. Skeletons danced as familiar guests at the nuptials of our kings[38]: spectres warned them back from the battle-field of Flodden, and visionary heralds proclaimed from the market-cross the long catalogue of the slain. "Figures that seemed to rise and die, Gibber and sign, advance and fly, While nought confirmed, could ear or eye Discern of sound or mien; Yet darkly did it seem as there Heralds and pursuivants appear, With trumpet sound and blazon fair, A summons to proclaim." _Marmion_, canto v. Incubi and succubi wandered about in all directions, with a degree of assurance and plausibility which would have deceived the very elect[39]; and wicked churchmen were cited by audible voices and an accompaniment of thunder before the tribunal of Heaven[40]. The annals of the thirteenth century are dignified with the exploits of three wizards, before whom Nostradamus and Merlin must stoop their crests, Thomas of Ercildoune, Sir Michael Scott, and Lord Soulis. The Tramontane fame of the second had even crossed the Alps, for Dante[41] accommodates him with a place in Hell, between Bonatto, the astrologer of Guido di Monte Feltro, and Asdente of Parma. But previous to the Reformation, these superstitious notions, though generally prevalent, had hardly assumed a form much calculated to disturb the peace of society. Though in some cases, where these powers had been supposed to have been exercised for treasonable purposes, the punishment of death had been inflicted on the witches[42], men did not as yet think it necessary, merely for the supposed possession of such powers, or their benevolent exercise, to apply the purifying power of fire to eradicate the disorder. Sir Michael and the Rhymer lived and died peaceably; and the tragical fate of the tyrant Soulis on the Nine Stane Rigg was owing, not to the supposed sorceries which had polluted his Castle of Hermitage, but to those more palpable atrocities which had been dictated by the demon of his own evil conscience, and executed by those iron-handed and iron-hearted agents, who were so readily evoked by the simpler spell of feudal despotism. From the commencement of the Records of the Scottish Justiciary Court, down to the reign of Mary, no trial properly for witchcraft appears on the record. For though in the case of the unfortunate Countess of Glammis, executed in 1536, during the reign of James V., on an accusation of treasonably conspiring the king's death by poison, some hints of sorcery are thrown into the dittay, probably with the view of exciting a popular prejudice against one whose personal beauty and high spirit rendered her a favourite with the people, it is obvious that nothing was really rested on this charge. But with the introduction of the Reformation "novus rerum nascitur ordo." Far from divesting themselves of the dark and bloody superstitions which Innocent's bull had systematized and propagated, the German reformers had preserved this, while they demolished every other idol, and moving "In dismal dance around the furnace blue," had made even children pass through the fire to Moloch. Their Scottish brethren, adopting implicitly the creed of their continental prototypes, transplanted to our own country, a soil unfortunately but too well prepared for such a seed, the whole doctrine of Satan's visible agency on earth, with all the grotesque horrors of his commerce with mankind. The aid of the sword of justice was immediately found to be indispensable to the weapons of the spirit; and the verse of Moses which declares that a witch shall not be suffered to live, was forthwith made the groundwork of the Act 73 of the ninth parliament of Queen Mary, which enacted the punishment of death against witches or consulters with witches. The consequences of this authoritative recognition of the creed of witchcraft became immediately obvious with the reign of James which followed. Witchcraft became the all-engrossing topic of the day, and the ordinary accusation resorted to whenever it was the object of one individual to ruin another, just as certain other offences were during the reign of Justinian, and during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries in Italy. In Scotland the evil was not less busy in high places, than among the humbler beings, who had generally been professors of the art magic. A sort of relation of clientage seems to have been established between the operative performers, and those noble patrons (chiefly, we regret to say, of the fair sex) by whom their services were put in requisition. The Lady Buccleugh, of Branxholm Hall, whose spells have furnished our own Northern Wizard with some of his most striking pictures,--the Countess of Athol, the Countess of Huntly, the wife of the Chancellor Arran, the Lady Ker, wife of James, Master of Requests, the Countess of Lothian, the Countess of Angus, (more fortunate in her generation than her grandmother Lady Glammis), were all, if we are to believe the scandal of Scotstarvet, either protectors of witches or themselves dabblers in the art[43]. Even Knox himself did not escape the accusation of witchcraft; the power and energy of mind with which Providence had gifted him, the enemies of the Reformation attributed to a darker source. He was accused of having attempted to raise "some sanctes" in the churchyard of St. Andrew's; but in the course of this resuscitation upstarted the devil himself, having a huge pair of horns on his head, at which terrible sight Knox's secretary became mad with fear, and shortly after died. Nay, to such a height had the mania gone, that Scot of Scotstarvet mentions that Sir Lewis Ballantyne, Lord Justice Clerk of Scotland, "by curiosity dealt with a warlock called Richard Grahame," (the same person who figures in the trial of Alison Balfour, as a confederate of Bothwell), "to raise the devil, who having raised him in his own yard in the Canongate, he was thereby so terrified that he took sickness and thereof died." This was a "staggering state of Scots statesmen" indeed, when even the supreme criminal judge of Scotland was thus at the head of the delinquents. Well might any unfortunate criminal have said with Angelo-- "Thieves for their robbery have authority, When judges steal themselves." _Measure f. Measure_, ii. 2. Nor, in fact, was the Church less deeply implicated than the court and the hall of justice; for in the case of Alison Pearson (1588) we find the celebrated Patrick Adamson, Archbishop of St. Andrew's, laying aside the fear of the Act of Parliament, and condescending to apply to this poor wretch for a potion to cure him of his sickness! A faith so strong and so general could not be long in manifesting itself in works. In 1572 occurs the first entry in the Justiciary Record, the trial of Janet Bowman, of which no particulars are given, except the emphatic sentence "Convict: and Brynt." No fewer than thirty-five trials appear to have taken place before the Court of Justiciary during the remainder of James's reign, (to 1625), in almost all of which the result is the same as in the case of Bowman. Two or three of these are peculiarly interesting; one, from the difference between its details and those which form the usual materials of the witch trials; the others, from the high rank of some of those involved in them, and the strange and almost inexplicable extent of the delusion. The first to which we allude is that of Bessie Dunlop[44], convicted on her own confession; the peculiarity in this case is that, instead of the devil himself _in propriâ personâ_, the spiritual beings to whom we are introduced are our old friends the fairies, the same sweet elves whom Paracelsus defends, and old Aubrey delighted to honour. Bessie's familiar was a being whom she calls Thom Reed, and whom she describes in her judicial declaration[45] as "an honest weel elderlie man, gray bairdit, and had ane gray coitt with Lumbard sleeves of the auld fassoun, ane pair of gray brekis, and quhyte schankis gartarrit abone the kne." Their first meeting took place as she was going to the pasture, "gretand (weeping) verrie fast for her kow that was dead, and her husband and child that were lyand sick in the land-ill (some epidemic of the time), and she new risen out of gissane (childbed)." Thom, who took care that his character should open upon her in a favourable light, chid her for her distrust in Providence, and told her that her sheep and her child would both die, but that her husband should recover, which comforted her a little. His true character, however, appeared at a second "forgathering," when he unblushingly urged her "to denye her christendom and renounce her baptism, and the faith she took at the fount stane." The poor witch answered, that "though she should be riven at horse-tails she would never do that," but promised him obedience in all things else,--a qualified concession with which he rather grumblingly departed. His third appearance took place in her own house, in presence of her husband and _three_ tailors (three!). To the infinite consternation of this trio and of the gudeman, he took her by the apron and led her out of the house to the kiln-end, where she saw eight women and four men sitting; the men in gentlemen's clothing, and the women with plaids round about them, and "very seemly to see." They said to her, "Welcome Bessie, wilt thou go with us?" but as she made no answer to this invitation, they, after some conversation among themselves which she could not understand, disappeared of a sudden, and "a hideous ugly sough of wind followed them." She was told by Thom, after their departure, that these "were the gude wights that wonned in the Court of Elfane," and that she ought to have accepted their invitation. She afterwards received a visit from the Queen of Elfane in person, who condescendingly asked a drink of her, and prophesied the death of her child and the recovery of her husband. The use which poor Bessie made of her privileges was of the most harmless kind, for her spells seem to have been all exerted to cure, and not to kill. Most of the articles of her indictment are for cures performed, nor is there any charge against her of exerting her powers for a malicious purpose. As usual however she was convicted and burnt. This was evidently a pure case of mental delusion, but it was soon followed by one of a darker and more complex character, in which, as far as the principal actor was concerned, it seems doubtful whether the mummery of witchcraft formed anything more than a mere pageant in the dark drama of human passions and crimes. We allude to the trials of Lady Fowlis and of Hector Munro of Fowlis, for witchcraft and poisoning, in 1590. This is one of those cases which might plausibly be quoted in support of the ground on which the witch trials have been defended by Selden, Bayle, and the writers of the Encyclopédie,--namely, the necessity of punishing the pretensions to such powers, or the belief in their existence, with as great rigour as if their exercise had been real. "The law against witches," says Selden, "does not prove there be any, but it punishes the malice of those people that use such means to take away men's lives. If one should profess that, by turning his hat and crying buz, he could take away a man's life, though in truth he could do no such thing, yet this were a just law made by the state, that whoever should turn his hat thrice and cry buz, with an intention to take away a man's life, shall be put to death." We shall hardly stop to expose the absurdity of this doctrine of Selden in the abstract, which thus makes the will universally equal to the deed; but when we read such cases as that of Lady Fowlis, it cannot at the same time be denied, that the power which the pretended professor of such arts thus obtained over the popular mind, and the relaxation of moral principle with which it was naturally accompanied in the individual himself, rendered him a most dangerous member of society. In general, the profession of sorcery was associated with other crimes, and was frequently employed as a mere cover by which these might with the more security and effect be perpetrated. The philters and love-potions of La Voisin and Forman, the private court calendar of the latter, containing "what ladies loved what lords best," (which the Chief Justice prudently would not allow to be read in court), are sufficiently well known. Charms of a more disgusting nature appear to have been supplied by our own witches, as in the case of Roy, tried before the sheriff of Perth, in 1601[46], and in that of Colquhoun, of Luss, tried for sorcery and incest, 1633, where the instrument of seduction was a jewel obtained from a necromancer. In short, wherever any flagitious purpose was to be effected, nothing more was necessary than to have recourse to some notorious witch. In poisoning, in particular, they were accomplished adepts, as was naturally to be expected from the power which it gave them of realizing their own prophecies. Poisoners and witches are classed together in the conclusion of Louis XIV.'s edict; and the trials before the Chambre Ardente prove that the two trades were generally found in harmonious juxtaposition. Our own Mrs. Turner, in England, affords us no bad specimen of this union of the poisoner with the procuress and the witch; while the prevalence of the same connection in Scotland appears from the details of the case of Robert Erskine, of Dun, from that of the daughter of Lord Cliftonhall, Euphemia Macalzean, and still more from the singular case of Lady Fowlis. The object of the conspirators in this last case was the destruction of the young lady of Balnagown, which would have enabled George Ross, of Balnagown, to marry the young Lady Fowlis. But in order to entitle them to the succession of Fowlis, supposing the alliance to be effected, a more extensive slaughter was required. Lady Fowlis's stepsons, Robert and Hector, with their families, stood in the way, and these were next to be removed. Nay, the indictment goes the length of charging her with projecting the murder of more than thirty individuals, including an accomplice of her own, Katharine Ross, the daughter of Sir David Ross, whom she had seduced into her schemes, a woman apparently of the most resolute temper, and obviously of an acute and penetrating intellect; there seems reason to doubt whether she had any faith in the power of the charms and sorceries to which she resorted, but she probably thought that, in availing herself of the services of those hags whom she employed, the more prudent course would be to allow them to play off their mummeries in their own way, while she combined them with more effective human means. Accordingly the work of destruction commenced with the common spell of making two pictures of clay, representing the intended victims; but instead of exposing them to the fire, or burying them with their heads downward, the pictures were in this case hung up on the north side of the room, and the lady, with her familiars, shot several arrows, shod with elf-arrow heads, at them, but without effect. Though the Lady Fowlis gave orders that other two pictures should be prepared, in order to renew the attempt, she seems forthwith to have resorted to more vigorous measures, and to have associated Katharine Ross and her brother George in her plans. The first composition prepared for her victims was a stoupful of poisoned ale, but this ran out in making. She then gave orders to prepare "a pig of ranker poison, that would kill shortly," and this she dispatched by her nurse to the young Laird of Fowlis. Providence however again protected him: the "pig" fell and was broken by the way, and the nurse, who could not resist the temptation of tasting the contents, paid the penalty of her curiosity with her life. So corrosive was the nature of the potion, that the very grass on which it fell was destroyed. Nothing however could move Lady Fowlis from her purpose. Like Mrs. Turner, who treated Overbury with spiders, cantharides, and arsenic, alternately, that she might be able to "hit his complexion," she now proceeded to try the effect of "ratton poyson," (ratsbane,) of which she seems to have administered several doses to the young laird, "in eggs, browis, or kale," but still without effect, his constitution apparently proving too strong for them. She had more nearly succeeded, however, with her sister-in-law, her female victim. The "ratton poyson" which she had prepared for Lady Balnagown, she contrived, by means of one of her subsidiary hags, to mix in a dish of kidneys, on which Lady Balnagown and her company supped; and its effects were so violent, that even the wretch by whom it was administered revolted at the sight. At the date of the trial, however, it would seem the unfortunate lady was still alive. Lady Fowlis was at last apprehended, on the confession of several of the witches she had employed, and more than one of whom had been executed before her own trial took place. The proceedings after all terminated in an acquittal, a result which is only explicable by observing that the jury was evidently a packed one, and consisted principally of the dependants of the houses of Munro and Fowlis. This scene of _diablerie_ and poisoning, however, did not terminate here. It now appeared that Mr. Hector, one of his stepmother's intended victims, had himself been the principal performer in a witch underplot directed against the life of his brother George. Unlike his more energetic stepmother, credulous to the last degree, he seems to have been entirely under the control of the hags by whom he was surrounded, and who harassed and terrified him with fearful predictions and ghastly exhibitions of all kinds. He does not appear to have been naturally a wicked man, for the very same witches who were afterwards leagued with him against the life of George, he had consulted with a view of curing his elder brother Robert, by whose death he would have succeeded to the estates. But being seized with a lingering illness, and told by his familiars that the only chance he had of recovering his health was that his brother should die for him, he seems quietly to have devoted him to death, under the strong instinct of self-preservation. In order to prevent suspicion, it was agreed that his death should be lingering and gradual, and the officiating witch, who seemed to have the same confidence in her own nicety of calculation as the celebrated inventress of the _poudre de successions_, warranted the victim until the 17th of April following. It must be admitted that the incantations which followed were well calculated to produce a strong effect, both moral and physical, on the weak and credulous being on whom they were played off. Shortly after midnight, in the month of January, the witches left the house in which Mr. Hector was lying sick at the time, and passed to a piece of ground lying betwixt the lands of two feudal superiors, where they dug a large grave. Hector Munro, wrapped in blankets, was then carried forth, the bearers all the time remaining dumb, and silently deposited in the grave, the turf being laid over him and pressed down with staves. His foster-mother, Christian Neill, was then ordered to run the breadth of nine riggs, and returning to the grave, to ask the chief witch "which was her choice." She answered that Mr. Hector was her choice to live, and his brother George to die for him. This cooling ceremony being three times repeated, the patient, frozen with cold and terror, was carried back to bed. Mr. Hector's witches were more successful than the hags employed by his stepmother. George died in the month of April, as had been predicted, doubtless by other spells than the force of sympathy, and Hector appears to have recovered. He had the advantage, however, of a selected jury on his trial, as well as Lady Fowlis, and had the good fortune to be acquitted. Scarcely had the agitation produced by these trials subsided, when the public mind was again confounded by a new, a more extensive, and almost inexplicable scene of enchantment, directed against the life of James and his Queen, in 1591. The first hint of those strange proceedings which were afterwards disclosed, was derived from the confessions of a girl named Gellie, or Gellis Duncan, servant to the Deputy Bailiff of Tranent. Some sudden cures performed by this girl, and other suspicious points in her conduct, having attracted the observation of her master, he, with a laudable anxiety for the discovery of the truth, "did, with the help of others, torment her with the torture of the pilliewinkis [a species of thumbscrew] upon her fingers, which is a grievous paine, and binding or wrenching her head with a cord or rope, which is a most cruel torment also[47]." But, notwithstanding these persuasive applications, no confession could be extorted. At last it was suggested by some of the operators, that her silence was owing to her having been marked by the devil, and on a diligent examination the mark was found on the fore part of the throat. No sooner was it detected than the charm was burst: she confessed that all her cures were performed by the assistance of the devil, and proceeded to make disclosures relative to the extent of her guilt, and the number of associates, which utterly eclipse all the preceding "discoveries of witchcraft," with which the criminal records furnish us down to this time. Thirty or forty different individuals, some of whom, as the pamphlet observes, were "as civill honest women as anie that dwelled within the city of Edinburgh," were denounced by her, and forthwith apprehended upon her confession. Nor was this list confined to the lower classes, from whom the victims offered to this superstition had generally been selected; for among those apprehended on Duncan's information was Euphemia Macalzean, the daughter of Lord Cliftonhall, one of the senators of the College of Justice. To trace out the wide field of witchcraft which was opened to him by the confessions of the accused, as they were successively examined, was an employment highly congenial to the credulous mind of James, prone to every superstition, and versed in all the traditionary lore of Sprenger and Bodinus. Day after day he attended the examinations in person, was put into a "wonderful admiration" by every new trait of grotesque horror which their confessions disclosed, and even carried his curiosity so far as to send for Gellie Duncan herself, who had, according to the confession of another witch, Agnes Sampson (the wise wife of Keith), played a reel or dance before the witches, as they moved in procession to meet the devil in the kirk of North Berwick, in order that he might himself listen to this infernal air--"who upon the like trumpe did play the said dance before the King's majestie, who, in respect of the strangeness of these matters, took great delight to be present at these examinations." All these disclosures, however, it may be anticipated, were not without a liberal application of the usual compulsitor in such cases--the torture. The chief sufferer was a person named Cuningham, who figures in the trials under the name of Dr. Fian, a schoolmaster near Tranent, and apparently a person of dissolute character, although, as appeared from his conduct on this inquisition, also of singular strength of mind and firmness of nerve. He was put to the question, "_first_, by thrawing of his head with a rope, whereat he would confess nothing; _secondly_, he was persuaded by _fair means_ to confess his folly," (would it not have been as natural to have tried the fair means first?) "but that would prevail as little; lastly, he was put to the most cruel and severe pain in the world, called the Boots[48], who, after he had received three strokes, being inquired if he would confess his damnable acts and wicked life, his tongue would not serve him to speak." Being released from this instrument of torture, he appears, under the influence of the agony produced by it, to have subscribed a confession, embracing not only the alleged charges of conspiracy against the King by means of witchcraft, but a variety of particulars relative to his own life and conversation, by no means of an edifying character. But the weight to be attached to this confession was soon made apparent by what followed; for Fian, who had been recommitted to prison, and who had appeared for a day or two to be "very solitarye" and penitent, contrived in the course of the next night to make his escape, and on his re-apprehension and second examination thought fit, to the great discomposure of James, to deny the whole of the charges which he had previously admitted. "Whereupon the King's majestie, perceiving his stubborn wilfulnesse," prescribed the following remedy for his relapse. "His nayles upon his fingers were riven and pulled with an instrument called in Scottish a Turkas[49]. And under every naile there was thrust in two needles over even up to the heads. At all which torments, notwithstanding, the doctor never shrunke anie whitt, neither would he then confess it the sooner for all the tortures inflicted upon him. Then was he _with all convenient speed_ by commandment conveyed again to the torment of the boots, where he continued a long time, and abode so many blows in them that his legs were crushed and beaten together _as small as might be_, and the bones and flesh so bruised, that the blood and marrow spouted forth in great abundance, whereby they were made unserviceable for ever." The doctor, it will be seen, did not long require their services; but whether his confession was obtained by fair means or foul, it certainly bears so startling a resemblance to that of the leading witch, Agnes Sampson, a woman whom Spottiswood describes as "matron-like, grave and settled in her answers," that it is hardly to be wondered at that the superstitious mind of James should have been confounded by the coincidence. Nothing, in fact, can exceed the general harmony of the accounts given by the different witches of their proceedings, except the ludicrous and yet horrible character of the incidents which they record, and which might well extort, even from James himself, the observation he appears to have made in the commencement of the proceedings, that they were all "extreme lyars." James, it appears, from his singular piety, and the active part which, long before the composition of his 'Dæmonologie,' he had taken against Satan and his invisible world, had been, from the first, most obnoxious to his servants upon earth. On one occasion, when an unsuccessful attempt had been made against his life, the fiend pleaded (though we do not see why a Scotch devil should speak French) that he had no power over him, adding, "Il est homme de Dieu[50]." The visit which, in a sudden fit of romantic gallantry, he paid to Norway, to bring over his queen, was too favourable an opportunity for the instruments of Satan to be neglected; and accordingly it was resolved by the conclave that every exertion should be made to raise such a tempest as should infallibly put an end to the greatest enemy (as Satan himself confidentially admitted to one of the witches) whom the devil ever had in the world. The preparations were therefore commenced with all due solemnity. Satan undertook, in the first instance, to raise a mist so as to strand the King on the English coast, but, more active measures being thought necessary, Dr. Fian, as the devil's secretary, or register, as he is called throughout these trials, addressed a letter to a distinguished witch, Marion Linkup, and others of the sisterhood, directing them to meet their master on the sea within five days, for the purpose of destroying the King[51]. On All-hallowmas Eve the infernal party, to the number of about two hundred, embarked, "each in a riddle or sieve, and went into the same very substantially." In what latitude they met with Satan is not stated, but after some cruizing about he made his appearance, and delivered to Robert Grierson a cat, which it appears had previously been drawn nine times through the cruik[52], giving the word to "cast the same into the sea! Hola!" And this notable charm was not without its effect, for James, whose fleet was at that time clearing the Danish coast, afterwards declared that his ship alone had the wind contrary, while all the other vessels had a fair one. The charm upon the water being finished, the witches landed, and after enjoying themselves with wine, which they drank out of the same sieves in which they had previously sailed so "substantially," they moved on in procession towards the kirk of North Berwick, which had been fixed on as their place of rendezvous with their master. The company exceeded one hundred, of whom thirty-two are enumerated in Agnes Sampson's confession. And they were preceded by Gellie Duncan, playing upon the Jew's-harp the following ditty: "Cummer, goe ye before, Cummer, goe ye, Gif ye will not go before, Cummer, let me!" Here their master was to appear in a character less common in Scotland than on the Continent, that of a preacher. Doctor Fian, who, as the devil's register, took the lead in the ceremonies at the kirk, _blew_ up the doors, and blew in the lichts, which resembled black candles sticking round about the pulpit, while another of the party, Grey Meill, acted as door-keeper. Suddenly the devil himself started up in the pulpit, attired in a gown and hat, both black. The sketch of his appearance given in Sir James Melville's Memoirs has something of the power and picturesqueness of Dante. "His body was hard lyk yrn, as they thocht that handled him; his faice was terrible, his nose lyk the bek of an egle, gret bournyng eyn" (occhi di bragia); "his handis and leggis were herry, with clawis upon his handis, and feit lyk the Griffin, and spak with a how voice." He first called the roll of the congregation, to which each answered by name; he then demanded of them whether they had been good servants, what they had done since the last time they had convened, and what had been the success of their conjurations against the King. Gray Meill, the doorkeeper, who was rash enough to remark, that "naething ailet the King yet, God be thankit," was rewarded for this _mal-apropos_ observation by a great blow. The devil then proceeded to admonish them to keep his commandments, which were simply to do all the evil they could; on his leaving the pulpit, the whole congregation, male and female, did homage to him, by saluting him in a way and manner which we must leave those who are curious in such ceremonies to ascertain from the original indictments. Such is the strange story in which all the criminals examined before James and the Council substantially agree; and unquestionably the singular coincidence of their narratives remains at this day one of the most difficult problems in the philosophy of Scottish history. The fate of the unfortunate beings who confessed these enormities could not, in that age of credulity, be for a moment doubtful. Fian, to whom, after the inhuman tortures to which he had been subjected, life could not be of much value, was condemned, strangled, and burnt. Agnes Sampson underwent a similar fate. Barbara Napier, another person said to have been present at the convention, though acquitted of this charge, was condemned on certain other charges of sorcery in the indictment; but so strongly was the mind of James excited, that, though he had secured a conviction against her, he actually brought the assize to trial for wilful error in acquitting her on this point of dittay. But the most distinguished victim connected with this scene of witchcraft was Euphemia Macalzean, the daughter of an eminent judge, Lord Cliftonhall, a woman of strong mind and licentious passions, a devoted adherent to the Roman Catholic faith, a partisan of Bothwell (who was accused by several of the witches as implicated in these practices against the King's life), and a determined enemy to James and to the Reformed religion. Whatever may have been the precise extent of this lady's acquirements in sorcery, there can be no doubt that she had been on terms of the most familiar intercourse with abandoned wretches of both sexes, pretenders to witchcraft, and that she had repeatedly employed their aid in attempting to remove out of the way persons who were obnoxious to her, or who stood in the way of the indulgence of her passions. The number of sorceries, poisonings, and attempts at poisoning, charged against her in the indictment, almost rivals the accusations against Brinvilliers; and, though the jury acquitted her of several of these, they convicted her of participation in the murder of her own godfather, of her husband's nephew, and of Douglas of Pennfrastone; besides being present at the convention of North Berwick, and various other meetings of witches, at which the King's death had been contrived. Her punishment was the severest which the court could pronounce: instead of the ordinary sentence, directing her to be first strangled at a stake and then burned, the unhappy woman was doomed to be "bund to ane staik and burnt in assis, _quick_, to the death," a fate which she endured with the greatest firmness, on the 25th of June, 1591. So deep and permanent was the impression made by these scenes upon the King's mind, that we owe to them the preparation of an Act of Parliament anent the form of process against witches, mentioned among the unprinted acts for 1597, and more immediately the composition of that notable work of the Scottish Solomon, the 'Dæmonologie.' In the trials of Bessie Roy, of James Reid, of Patrick Currie, of Isobel Grierson, and of Grizel Gardiner[53], the charges are principally of taking off and laying on diseases either on men or cattle; meetings with the devil in various shapes and places; raising and dismembering dead bodies for the purpose of enchantments; destroying crops; scaring honest persons in the shape of cats; taking away women's milk; committing housebreaking and theft by means of enchantments, and so on. South-running water, salt, rowan-tree, enchanted flints (probably elf-arrow heads), and doggrel verses (generally a translation of the Creed or Lord's Prayer) were the means employed for effecting a cure. Diseases again were laid on by forming pictures of clay or wax, which were placed before the fire or buried with the heads downward; by placing a dead hand, or some mutilated member, in the house of the intended victim; or, as in the case of Grierson, by the simpler process of throwing an enchanted tailzie (slice) of beef against his door. It was immaterial whether the supposed powers of the witch were exerted for good or evil. In the case of Grieve, no malefice (to use the technical term) was charged against him, but simply that he had cured diseases by means of charms; and the same in the case of Alison Pearson; but both were executed. Bartie Paterson seems to have been the most pious of warlocks, for his patients were uniformly directed, in addition to his prescriptions, to "ask their health at all livand wichtis abone or under the earth, in the name of Jesus." The trial of Robert Erskine of Dun, though given as one for witchcraft, seems to have been a simple case of poisoning, he having merely resorted to a notorious witch, named Margaret Irvine, for the herbs by which he despatched his nephews. The case of Margaret Wallace, towards the close of James's reign, deserves notice as being the first where something like a stand was made against some of the fundamental positions of the demonologists; the counsel for the prisoner contending strongly against the doctrine that, in the case of a person accused of witchcraft, every cure performed by her was to be set down to the agency of the devil. The defence however, though it seems to have been ably conducted, was unsuccessful. Matters continued much in the same state during the reign of Charles I. From 1625 to 1640 there are eight entries of trials for witchcraft on the Record, one of which, that of Elizabeth Bathgate, is remarkable, as being followed by an acquittal. In that of Katharine Oswald[54], the prisoner's counsel had the boldness to argue, that no credit was to be given to the confessions of the other witches, who had sworn to the presence of the prisoner at some of their orgies; "for all lawyers agree," argued he, "that they are not really transported, but only in their fancies, while asleep, in which they sometimes dream they see others there." This reasoning however appears to have made no impression on the jury, any more than the argument in Young's case[55], that the stoppage of the mill, which she was accused of having effected _twenty-nine years before_, by sorcery, might have been the effect of natural causes. About one-half of the convictions during this period proceed on judicial confessions; whether voluntary or extorted does not appear. They are not in general interesting, though some of the details in the trial of Hamilton[56] differ a little from the ordinary routine of the witch trials of the time. Having met the devil on Kingston Hills, in East Lothian, he was persuaded by the tempter to renounce his baptism--a piece of apostasy for which he received only four shillings. The devil further directed him to employ the following polite adjuration when he wished to raise him, namely, to beat the ground three times with his stick, and say, "Rise up, foul thief!" On the other hand, the devil's behaviour towards him was equally unceremonious; for on one occasion, when Hamilton had neglected to keep his appointment, he gave him a severe drubbing with a baton. The scene darkens however, towards the close of this reign, with the increasing dominion of the Puritans. In 1640 the General Assembly passed an act, that all ministers should take particular note of witches and charmers, and that the commissioners should recommend to the supreme judicature the unsparing application of the laws against them. In 1643 (August 19), after setting forth the increase of the crime, they recommend the granting a standing commission from the Privy Council or Justiciary to any "understanding gentlemen or magistrates," to apprehend, try, and execute justice against the delinquents. The subject appears to have been resumed in 1644, 1645, and 1649; and their remonstrances, it would seem, had not been without effect, for in 1649, the year after the execution of Charles, an Act of Parliament was passed confirming and extending the provisions of Queen Mary's, so as more effectually to reach consulters with witches, in regard to whom it was thought (though we do not see why) that the terms of the former act were a little equivocal. From this time, not only does the number of convictions, which since the death of James had been on the decline, increase, but the features of the cases assume a deeper tinge of horror. The old, impossible, and abominable fancies of the 'Malleus' were revived in the trials of Janet Barker and Margaret Lauder[57], which correspond in a remarkable manner with some of the evidence in the Mora trials. About thirty trials appear on the record between this last date and the Restoration, only one of which appears to have terminated in an acquittal; while at a single circuit-court, held at Glasgow, Stirling, and Ayr, in 1659, seventeen persons were convicted and burnt for this crime. Numerous however as are the cases in the Records of Justiciary, it must be kept in view that these afford an extremely inadequate idea of the extent to which this pest prevailed over the country. For though Sir George Mackenzie doubts whether, in virtue merely of the general powers given by the act, 1563, inferior judges did at any time, of their own authority, try and condemn criminals accused of witchcraft, the same end was managed in a different way. The Court of Justiciary was anxious to get rid of a jurisdiction which would alone have afforded them sufficient employment; and the Privy Council were in use to grant commissions to resident gentlemen and ministers, to examine, and afterwards to try and execute, witches all over Scotland; and so numerous were these commissions, that Wodrow expresses his astonishment at the number found in the Registers. Under these commissions multitudes were burnt in every part of the kingdom. In Mercer's Manuscript Diary, Lamont's Diary, and Whitelock's Memorials, occasional notices of the numbers burnt are perpetually occurring. In every case of the kind it would appear that the clergy displayed the most intemperate zeal. It was before them that the poor wretches "delated" of witchcraft were first brought for examination,--in most cases after a preparatory course of solitary confinement, cold, famine, want of sleep, or actual torture. On some occasions the clergy themselves actually performed the part of the prickers, and inserted long pins into the flesh of the witches in order to try their sensibility; and in all they laboured, by the most persevering investigations, to obtain from the accused a confession, which might afterwards be used against them on their trial, and which in more than one instance, even though retracted, formed the sole evidence on which the convictions proceeded. In some cases, where the charge against the criminal was that she was "habit and repute a witch," the notoriety of her character was proved before the Justiciary Court by the oath of a minister, just as habit and repute is now proved in cases of theft by that of a police officer. Though the tide of popular delusion in regard to this crime may be said to have turned during the reign of Charles II., its opening was perhaps more bloody than that of any of its predecessors. In the first year after the Restoration (1661), about twenty persons appear to have been condemned by the Justiciary Court, two of whom, though acquitted on their first trial, were condemned on the second on new charges. The numbers executed throughout the country are noticed by Lamont. Fourteen commissions for trials in the provinces appear to have been issued by the Privy Council in one day (November 7, 1661). Of the numbers of nameless wretches who died and made no sign, under the hands of those "understanding gentlemen" (as the General Assembly's overture styles them) to whom the commissions were granted, it is now almost impossible to form a conjecture. In reference however to the course of procedure in such cases, we may refer to some singular manuscripts relative to the examination of two confessing witches in Morayshire in 1662, in the possession of the family of Rose, of Kilravock; more particularly as the details they contain are, both from their minuteness and the unparalleled singularity of their contents, far more striking than anything to be found on the Records of Justiciary about this time. The names of these crazed beldames were Isobel Gowdie and Janet Braidhead. Two of the latter's examinations are preserved; the former appears to have been four times examined at different dates between the 13th April and 27th May, 1662, before the sheriff and several gentlemen and ministers of the neighbourhood; and on one of these is a marking by the Justice Depute Colville, as follows:--"Having read and considered the confession of Isobel Gowdie, within contained, as paction with Sathan, renunciation of baptism, with divers malefices, I find that a commission may be very justly given for her last trial.--_A. Colville_[58]." The confessions are written under the hand of a notary public, and subscribed by all the clergymen, gentlemen, and other witnesses present; as would appear to have been the practice where the precognitions were to be transmitted to the Justiciary, with the view of obtaining a commission to try and punish the crime. What the result of Isobel Gowdie's "last trial" was, it is easy, from the nature of her confessions, to conjecture. "Non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda, e passa." Though examined on four different occasions, at considerable intervals of time, and undoubtedly undergoing solitary confinement in the interim, so minute and invariable are the accounts given by Gowdie in particular, of the whole life and conversation of the witches to whom she belonged, that a pretty complete institute of infernal science might be compiled from her confession. The distinctness with which the visions seem to have haunted her, the consistency they had assumed in her own mind, and yet the inconceivable absurdity and monstrosity of these conceptions, to many of which we cannot even allude, furnish some most important contributions to the history of hypochondriac insanity. Her devotion to the service of the devil took place in the kirk of Auldearn, where she was baptized by him with the name of Janet, being held up by a companion, and the devil sucking the blood from her shoulder[59]. The band or coven to which they belonged consisted of thirteen (whose names she enumerates, and some of whom appear to have been apprehended upon her delation), that being the usual number of the covens. Each is provided with an officer, whose duty it is to repeat the names of the party after Satan; and a maiden, who seems to hold sway over the women, and who is the particular favourite of the devil, is placed at his right hand at feasts. A grand meeting of the covens takes place quarterly, when a ball is given. Each witch has a "sprite" to wait upon her, some appearing "in sad dun, some in grass green, some in sea green, some in yellow." Those of Gowdie's coven were, "Robert the Jakes, Sanders the Reed-Reever, Thomas the Fairy, Swein the Roaring Lion, Thief of Hell wait-upon-herself, MacHector," and so on. Some of these spirits, it would appear, did not stand high in Isobel's opinion; for Robert the Jakes, she says, was aged, and seemed to be "a gowkit glaikit spirit." Each of the witches too received a sobriquet, by which they were generally known[60]. Satan himself had several spirits to wait upon him; "sometimes he had boots and sometimes shoes upon his feet, but still his feet are forked and cloven." The witches, it appears, occasionally took considerable liberties with his character, on which occasions Satan, on detecting the calumny, used to beat the delinquents "up and down like naked gaists" with a stick, as Charon does the naked spirits in the 'Inferno,' with his oar. (Cant, iii.) He found it much more easy however to deal with the warlocks than with the fair sex. "Alexander Elder," says the confessing witch, "was soft, and could not defend himself, and did naething but greit and crye while he will be scourging him; but Margaret Wilson in Auldearn would defend herself finely, and cast up her hands to cape the blows, and Bessie Wilson would speak crustily with her tongue, and would be bellin again to him stoutly." The amusements and occupations of the witches are described with the same firmness and minuteness of drawing. When the devil has appointed an infernal diet, the witches leave behind them, in bed, a besom or three-legged stool, which assumes their shape till their return, a feature exactly corresponding with the Mora trials. When proceeding to the spot where their work is to be performed, they either adopt the shape of cats, hares, etc., or else, mounting upon corn or bean straws, and pronouncing the following charm,-- "Horse and hattock, horse and go, Horse and pellats, ho! ho!" they are borne through the air to the place of their destination. If any see these straws in motion, and "do not sanctify themselves," the witches may shoot them dead. This feat they perform with elf-arrow heads, which are manufactured by Satan himself; and his assistants the elf boys, who are described, like the Scandinavian trolls, as little humpbacked creatures who speak "goustie like" (gruffly); each witch receiving from Satan a certain number of these "Freischütze." A list of forty or fifty persons is given by the witch, who had been destroyed by herself and her companions, by these means; while she also mentions that she had made an unsuccessful attempt against the life of Mr. Harry Forbes, minister of Auldcarn, one of the witnesses actually present and subscribing her confession. Another attempt against the life of this minister is described very graphically. The instrument employed was "a bag made of the flesh and guts and galls of toads, the liver of a hare, pickles of corn, parings of nails, of feet, and toes," which olio being steeped all night, and mixed _secundum artem_ by Satan himself, was consecrated by a charm dictated by Satan, and repeated by the witches, "all on their knees, and their hair about their shoulders and eyes, holding up their hands, and looking stedfastly on the devil, that he might destroy the said Mr. Harry." This composition one of the witches, who made her way into the minister's chamber, attempted to throw upon him, but was prevented by the presence of some other holy men in the room. Another composition of the same kind, intended for the destruction of the lairds of Park and Lochloy, was more successful, as appears from the deposition of the other witch, Janet Braidhead. Having prepared the venom, "they came to Inshock in the night time, and scattered it up and down, above and about the gate, and other places, where the lairds and their sons would most haunt. And then we, in the likeness of crows and rooks[61], stood above the gate, and in the trees opposite the gate. It was appointed so that, if any of them should touch or tramp upon any of it, as well as that it or any of it fall on them, it should strike them with boils and kill them, _which it did, and they shortly died_. We did it to make this house heirless." It is needless to pursue further these strange details, which however form a valuable appendix to the records at that time. It would seem as if the violence of this popular delirium began after 1662 to relax. An interval of six years now occurs without a trial for this crime, while the record bears that James Welsh[62] was ordered to be publicly whipped for accusing several individuals of it,--a fate which he was hardly likely to have encountered some years before. Fountainhall, in noticing the case of the ten poor women convicted on their own confession in 1678[63], obviously speaks of the whole affair with great doubt and hesitation. And Sir George Mackenzie, in his 'Criminal Law,' the first edition of which appeared in the same year, though he does not yet venture to deny the existence of the crime or the expediency of its punishment, lays down many principles very inconsistent with the practice of the preceding century. "From the horridness of the crime," says he, "I do conclude that of all crimes it requires the clearest relevancy and most convincing probature; and I condemn, next to the wretches themselves, those cruel and too forward judges who burn persons by thousands as guilty of this crime." And accordingly, acting on these humane and cautious principles, Sir George, in his Report to the Judges in 1680, relative to a number of persons then in prison for this crime, stated that their confessions had been procured by torture, and that there seemed to be no other proof against them, on which they were set at liberty. "Since which time," adds Lord Royston, "there has been no trial for this crime before that court, nor before any other court, that I know of, except one at Paisley by commission from the Privy Council in anno 1697." This observation of Lord Royston is not altogether correct. The trial at Paisley to which he alludes is evidently the noted case of the Renfrewshire witches, tried on a charge of sorcery against a girl named Christian Shaw, the daughter of Shaw of Bargarran. The conviction of the accused appears to have taken place principally on the evidence of the girl herself, who in the presence of the commissioners played off a series of ecstasies and convulsion fits, similar to those by which the nuns of Loudon had sealed the fate of Grandier the century before. In this atrocious case, the Commissioners (in the Report presented by them to the Privy Council, 9th March, 1697), reported that there were twenty-four persons, male and female, suspected of being concerned in the sorceries; and among them, it is to be observed, is a girl of fourteen, and a boy not twelve years of age. After this, we almost feel surprised that out of about twenty who were condemned, only five appear to have been executed. They were burnt on the green at Paisley. The last trial before the Court of Justiciary was that of Elspet Rule, tried before Lord Anstruther, on the Dumfries circuit, 3rd of May, 1708, where the prisoner, though convicted by a plurality of voices, was merely sentenced to be burned on the cheek and banished Scotland for life. The last execution which took place was that of an old woman in the parish of Loth, executed at Dornoch in 1722, by sentence of the Sheriff depute of Caithness, Captain David Ross, of Little Dean. "It is said, that being brought out for execution, the weather proving very severe, she sat composedly warming herself by the fire, while the other instruments of death were made ready!" So ends in Scotland the tragical part of the history of witchcraft. In 1735, as already mentioned, the penal statutes were repealed; much to the annoyance however of the Seceders, who, in their annual confession of national sins, printed in an act of their Associate Presbytery at Edinburgh, in 1743, enumerated, as a grievous transgression, the repeal of the penal statutes "contrary to the express laws of God!" And though in remote districts the belief may yet linger in the minds of the ignorant, it has now, like the belief in ghosts, alchemy, or second sight, only that sort of vague hold on the fancy which enables the poet and romance writer to adapt it to the purposes of fiction, and therewith to point a moral or adorn a tale. And, of a truth, no unimportant moral is to be gathered from the consideration of the history of this delusion; namely, the danger of encouraging those enthusiastic conceits of the possibility of direct spiritual influence, which, in one shape or other, and even in our own days, are found to haunt the brain of the weak and presumptuous. For it is but the same principle which lies at the bottom of the persecutions of the witches, and which shows itself in the quietism of Bourignon, the reveries of Madame Guyon, the raptures of Sister Nativity, the prophecies of Naylor, the dreams of Dr. Dee, or Swedenborg's prospect of the New Jerusalem; still but an emanation of that spirit of pride, which, refusing to be "but a little lower than the angels," asserts an immediate communion and equality with them, and which, according to the temper of the patient, feeds him with the gorgeous visions of quietism, or impels him, like a furious Malay, along the path of persecution. Some persons assert that, in this nineteenth century of ours, we have no enthusiasm. On the contrary, we have a great deal too much: at no period has enthusiasm of the worst kind been more rife; witness the impostures of Southcott and Hohenlohe, and the thousand phantasies which are daily running their brief course of popularity. At no time has that calenture of the brain been more widely diffused, which, as it formerly converted every natural occurrence into the actual agency of the devil, now transforms every leader of a petty circle into a saint, and invests him with the garb and dignity of an apostle. Daily, are the practical and active duties of life more neglected under the influence of this principle; the charity which thinketh no evil of others daily becomes more rare; the stream of benevolence which of old stole deep and silently through the haunts of poverty and sickness at home, is now but poorly compensated by being occasionally thrown up in a few pompous and useless jets, at public subscriptions for distant objects; while even in those whose minds are untinctured by the grosser evils to which enthusiasm gives rise, life passes away in vain and illusive dreams of self-complacent superiority, which, as they are based only in pride and constitutional susceptibility, rarely endure when age and infirmity have shaken or removed the materials out of which they were reared. Thus, the enthusiast who, like Mirza, has been contemplating through the long day the Elysian islands that lie beyond the gulf, and already walking in a fancied communion with their myrtle-crowned inhabitants, feels, in spite of all his efforts, that, as evening creeps upon the landscape, the phantasmagoria becomes dimmer and more dim; the bridge, the islands, the genius who stood beside them disappear; till at last nothing remains for him but his own long hollow valley of Bagdad, with its oxen, sheep, and camels grazing on its sides;--this sober, weary, working world, in short, with all its cares and duties, through which, if he had been wisely fulfilling the end for which he was sent into it, he should have been labouring onward with a beneficent activity, not idly dreaming by the wayside of the Eden for which he is bound; and so he awakes to a consciousness of his true vocation in life when he is on the point of leaving it, and perceives the value and the paramount necessity of exertion, only when youth, with its opportunities, and its energies, lies behind him for ever, like the shadows of a dream. * * * * * The work of Church-Councillor Horst, and the review of its principal contents, leave however one hemisphere at least of the subject of Magic, Theurgy, and Necromancy unnoticed. These arts, or at least the popular belief in them, are much more ancient than any of the forms of Christianity, and were, in fact, a most unlucky legacy bequeathed by Paganism to the creeds which supplanted it. It needs no ghost to tell the reader how firmly the ancients believed in all supernatural influences: how populous, in their conceptions, were the elements with omens, portents, and prodigies; how abject and unreasoning was their credulity; and how dependent both their public and their domestic life upon the exorcisms of the priest and the science of the augur. The Canidias and Ericthos of antiquity were not mere creations of the poets; the most sober and sceptical of historians does not disdain to relate that, in the house of the dying Germanicus, were found burnt bones and dissevered limbs of dead bodies; and the most philosophical of the Roman poets recounts with complacent gravity the charms by which the dead might be evoked, or the faithless lover recalled by his forsaken mistress. Nor did the belief in witches and supernatural agencies decay or decline with the disbelief in the state-religion which marked the latter ages of the Roman Empire. On the contrary, as scepticism increased in one direction, credulity and abject superstition grew and prevailed in another. Neither were these infirmities of the mind by any means confined to the vulgar or the profane. The later Platonists were deeply infected with the malady of superstition, and there are few more curious chapters in the history of human inconsistency, than the lives of many of the philosophers, who argued against the being of a God, and who trembled if a hare crossed their path, at a sinister flight of crows, or at a sudden encounter with a beldame or a blackamoor in the grey of the morning. The magical art of the ancients, more especially towards the decline of Pagandom, was indeed of an extremely dark and atrocious complexion. Unmindful of the wise and reverent forbearance of the poet of the Æneid-- "Sin has ne possim naturæ accedere partes Frigidus obstiterit circum præcordia sanguis,"-- the ancient wizards pried, or affected to pry, into the very "incunabula vitæ." Could we recover a few of those books which the sorcerers at Corinth burned and brought the price of them to St. Paul, we should probably find in their pages, among some curious physical or medical secrets, nearly all the elements of a cruel and obscene superstition. Rome, we know, was both early and deeply infected with the orgiastic worship of the East, and especially with the impure ceremonies of the priests of Isis. It was of no avail to level to the ground the Isiac chapels, and to banish their ministers. In an age of unbelief there was a passion for the mysteries of darkness; and although Christianity gradually superseded Paganism in form, the spirit of the latter long survived in the multitude, and especially among the ignorant rural population. James Grimm, in his erudite work upon the 'Antiquities of the German Race,' traces with great acuteness the connection between the superstitions of the Dark Ages and the magical formularies of Heathenism. The spells of witches, the abracadabra of quacks, and the loathsome furniture of Sidrophel's laboratory are genuine descendants of the impostures and abominations which were practised for ages both in the Roman and Parthian empires. In Lucian and Apuleius indeed we are presented with a singular and terrible aspect of social existence. The most ordinary acts and functions of life were believed to be affected by the invisible powers, and those powers were supposed to be willing to do service to all who were malignant enough to seek their aid, and fearless enough to serve the apprenticeship which was demanded of them. It is easy to decry the weakness and detect the absurdity of such a creed. Yet it _was_ believed: it excited terror: it nurtured revenge: it wrought withering and wasting effects upon the feeble and the credulous: it cast a dark shade over life: it was potent over the sinews of the strong and over the bloom of the beautiful: it exercised "upon the inmost mind" all "its fierce accidents," and preyed upon the purest spirits, "As on entrails, joints and limbs, With answerable pains, but more intense." It is idle to regard such a belief as a mere superficial or individual superstition. It pervaded all ranks of society, from the philosopher who disputed about a first cause, and the magistrate who viewed religion in the light of a useful system of police, to the shepherd who watched Orion and the Pleiades, and the miner who rarely beheld either sun or star. It was an erroneous, but it was an earnest, belief which drove men to consult with diviners, and to question the elements for signs and wonders. Availing ourselves of Sir George Head's excellent translation, we extract from the 'Golden Ass' of Apuleius a story which, to our conceptions, is unsurpassed for its horror by any of the dreariest legends of Pagan or Medieval sorcery. "My master, the baker, was a well-behaved, tolerably good man, but his wife, of all the women in the world, was the most wicked creature in existence, and continually rendered his home such a painful scene of tribulation to him, that, by Hercules, many is the time and oft that I have silently deplored his fate. The heart of that most detestable woman was like a common cess-pool, where all the evil dispositions of our nature were collected together. She was cruel, treacherous, malevolent, obstinate, penurious, yet profuse in expenses of dissipation, faithless to her husband, a cheat and a drunkard. One day I heard it said that the baker had procured a bill of divorce against his execrable helpmate, and this intelligence turned out in due time to be true. She, exasperated by the proceedings instituted against her, communicated with a certain woman who had the reputation of being a witch, and whose spells and incantations were of power unlimited. Having conciliated this woman by gifts and urgent supplications, she besought of her one of two things--either to soften the heart of her husband, so that he might be reconciled to her; or if unable to do that, to send a ghost or some evil spirit to put him to a violent death. In the first endeavour the sorceress totally failed, whereupon she set about contriving the death of my unfortunate master. To effect her purpose, she raised from the grave the shade of a woman who had been murdered. So one day, about noon, there entered the bakehouse a bare-footed woman half-clad, wearing a mourning mantle thrown across her shoulders, her pale sallow features marked by a lowering expression of guilt, her grisly dishevelled hair sprinkled with ashes, and her front locks streaming over her face. Unexpectedly approaching the baker, and taking him gently by the hand, she drew him aside, and led him into an adjoining chamber, as if she had private intelligence to communicate. After the baker had departed, and a considerable period had elapsed without his returning, the servants went to his chamber-door and knocked very loudly, and, after continued silence, called several times, and thumped still harder than before. They then perceived that the door was carefully locked and bolted; upon which, at once concluding that some serious catastrophe had happened, they pushed against it with their utmost strength, and by a violent effort, either breaking the hinge or driving it out of its socket, they effected an entrance by force. The moment they were within the chamber, they saw the baker hanging quite dead from one of the beams of the ceiling, but the woman who had accompanied him had disappeared, and was nowhere to be seen." This evoking of the dead to destroy the living, this warring of a corpse with a living sold, and then the sudden dismissal, when its foul and fatal errand had been accomplished, of the ghost to its grave, presents to the mind a climax of terrors, for which we do not know where, in history or in fiction, to find a counterpart. The Lex Majestatis, or law of High Treason, was one of the most effectual and terrible weapons which the imperial constitution of Rome placed in the hands of its military despots. Against one offence this double-handled and sure-smiting engine was frequently levelled, viz. against the crime or the charge of inquiring into the probable duration of the Emperor's life. This was done in various ways,--by fire applied to waxen images, by consulting the stars, by casting nativities, by employing prophets, by casual omens, but especially by certain permutations and combinations of numbers, "numeros Babylonios," or the letters of the alphabet. The following extract from Ammianus Marcellinus affords an example of this treasonable sacrilege, the practice or suspicion of which, on so many occasions, led to the expulsion of the "mathematicians" from Italy. The Romans indeed, profoundly ignorant of science, or contemning it as the art of Greek adventurers or Egyptian priests, neither of whom were in good odour with the government at any period, gave to the current impostors of those days an appellation which Cambridge wranglers now account equal to a patent of nobility. The following story seems to have been substantially a deposition taken before the magistrates of Constantinople, and extracted from the witnesses or defendants by torture. The principal deponent is said to have been brought "ad summas angustias"--to the last gasp almost, before he would confess. "This unlucky table," he said, "which is now produced in court, we made up of laurel boughs, after the fashion of that which stands before the curtain at Delphi. Terrible were the auspices, awful the charms, long and painful the dances, which preceded and accompanied its construction and consecration. And as often as we consulted this disc or table, the following was our mode of procedure. It was set in the midst of a chamber which had previously been well purified by the smoke of Arabian gums and incense. On the table was placed a round dish, welded of divers metals. On the rim of the dish were engraven the twenty-four letters of the alphabet, separated from one another by equal and exactly measured spaces. Beside the table stood a certain man clad in linen, and having linen buskins or boots on his feet, with a handkerchief bound around his head. He waved in one hand a branch of vervain, that propitious herb; he recited a set formulary of verses, such as are wont to be sung before the Averruncal gods, He that stood by the table was no ordinary magician. With his other he held and shook a ring which was attached to curtains, spun from the finest Carpathian thread, and which had often before been used for such mystic incantations. The ring thus shaken dropped ever and anon between the interspaces of the letters, and formed by striking the letters together certain words, which the sorcerer combined into number and measure, much after the manner of the priests who manage the oracles of the Pythian and Branchidian Apollo. Then, when we inquired who perchance would succeed to the reigning Emperor, the bright and smooth ring, leaping among the letters, struck together T, H, E, O, and afterwards a final S, so that one of the bystanders at once exclaimed that THEO[DORU]S was the emperor designated by the Fates. We asked no more questions: seeing that Theodorus was the person whom we had sought for." The lingering belief in the old religion, and in the magical and thaumaturgical practices which had, like ivy around an oak, gradually accrued to it, was productive in the decline of Paganism of many poetical forms of superstition. It is curious and instructive to remark the increasing earnestness with which the decaying creed of Heathendom sought to array itself against the encroachments of Christianity. The light _persiflage_ with which the philosophy of the Augustan age treated the state-religion nearly disappears. The indifference of the magistrate gives place to an intolerant and indignant tone of reclamation. The Pagan Cæsars attack the new religion as a formidable antagonist; the Christian emperors, in their turn, assail directly or ferret out perseveringly the superstitions which lingered among the rural towns and districts. The ancient gods are no longer regarded by either their worshipers or their opponents as simply deified heroes or men, but as powerful and mysterious beings, informed with demoniac energies and capable of conferring temporal good or evil,--beauty, power, and wealth, on the one hand; deformity, ignominy, and disease, on the other,--upon those who honoured or abjured them. Such conceptions of blessing or of bale were embodied in strange narratives of weeping or jubilant processions of majestic forms when the moon was hid in her vacant interlunar cave, of demons assuming the shape of fair enchantresses who beguiled men to their undoing, of palaces reared in a night and dislimning in the day, of banquets, like that visionary banquet in the wilderness, which Milton has adorned with all the graces of imagination in his 'Paradise Lost.' We can afford room for only two of the narratives of demoniac influence in which the later Pagans expressed their belief in the influence of the early gods. 1. The superstition of the Lamia. One result of the consolidation of Western Asia with Europe, under the Roman Empire, was to spread widely over the latter continent the germs of the serpent-worship of the East. The subtlest beast of the field, retaining in full vigour his powers of assuming tempting forms and uttering beguiling words, was wont, it seems, to disport himself among the sons and daughters of men under the shape in which he deceived our general mother, the over-curious Eve. Especially did he delight to entrap some hopeful youth who was studying philosophy in the schools of Athens or Berytus, or some neophyte in the Christian Church. A fair young gentleman at Corinth had been abroad on a pleasure excursion, and might perchance be returning home a little the worse for wine. However this may have been, at the gates of Corinth he encountered a damsel richly attired, "beautiful exceedingly," but with hair dishevelled, and drowned in tears. He began by inquiring the cause of her distress. Faithless servants had carried off her litter and left her lone. He offered her consolation, which she accepted, and his arm also, which she did not decline. She led him to a lordly palace in a bye street of the city, where he had never yet been. At its marble portico waited a crowd of slaves with torches awaiting their absent mistress, and the pair, now become fond, were ushered into a sumptuous banqueting hall, where a board was spread covered with all the delicacies of the season, and garnished with effulgent plate. In this palace of delight the young man abode many days, taking no account of time. But at length, cloyed with sweets, he proposed inviting a party of his college friends, much to the dismay of his fair hostess, who, with many tears and embraces, besought him to forego his wish. In an evil hour however he persevered, and his rooms were filled with gownsmen, marvelling much, not without envy, at the good fortune that had befallen their chum, Lucius, no one knew how or why. But among the undergraduates came a grave and grey college tutor, deeply read in conjurors' books, who could detect by his skill the devil under any shape. Pale and silent the old man sat at the festive board, and was ill-bred enough to stare the lady not only out of countenance, but out of her beauty also. She grew pale, livid, an indiscriminate form: she melted away; the palace melted also; the plate, the viands, and the wines vanished also; and in place of columns and ceiled roofs was a void square in Corinth, and in place of the damsel was a loathsome serpent, writhing in the agonies of dissolution. The white-bearded fellow had scanned and scotched and slain the snake--the Lamia--but he destroyed his patient also, for Lucius became a maniac; had the charm lasted awhile longer, his soul would have become the fiend's property. 2. A young man had sorely offended the great goddess Venus, or, as she was called in his native city, the Syrian Byblus, Astarte. To redeem himself from the curse upon his board and bed,--for he had recently married a fair wife,--he applied to a wise astrologer. The sage heard his case, and advised him, as his only remedy, to go on a certain night, at its very noon, to a spot just without the gates, called the Pagan's Tomb,--to station himself on the roof of it, and to recite, at a prescribed moment, a certain formulary, with which his counsel, learned in magical law, furnished him. On the Pagan's Tomb accordingly the young man placed himself at the noon of night, and awaited his deliverance. And presently, towards the confines of morning, was heard a sound of sad and solemn music, and of much wailing, and of the measured tread of a long procession. And there drew nigh a mournful company of persons, who might have seemed men and women, but for their extraordinary stature, and their surpassing majesty and beauty: and the young man remembered the words of the magician, and knew that before him was the goodly company of the gods whom his forefathers in past generations had worshiped. One only of that august and weeping band was borne in a chariot--the god Saturn--perhaps by reason of his great age; and to Saturn he addressed his prayer, which was of such potency that Saturn straightway commanded Astarte to release the petitioner from the curse she had laid upon him. We have been able merely to indicate how wide a field lies beyond the proper domain of medieval witchcraft. It would be curious to trace the similarity of the Heathen and Christian superstitions, or rather the derivation of one from the other. But we must reserve this subject to some other occasion, and conclude with repeating the wish with which we commenced, that some competent hand would undertake to trace through all its ramifications the obscure yet recompensing subject of Magic and Witchcraft. THE END. JOHN EDWARD TAYLOR, PRINTER, LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. FOOTNOTES: [1] Since they were written, Sir Walter Scott's 'Demonology and Witchcraft' has been published, a book replete with interesting historical notices. [2] Faustus, who is a sort of Delolme in matters infernal, has an able treatise on the subject, entitled 'Mirakel- Kunst- und Wunder-Buch, oder der schwartze Rabe, auch der dreifache Höllen Zwang genannt,' in which the political system of Lucifer's dominions is examined. Dionysius the Areopagite indeed is not more exact in his calendar of the celestial hierarchy. Perhaps these treatises are the common parents of the modern 'Blue Books.' [3] Reginald Scott's 'Discoverie of Witchcraft' contains an army-list or muster-roll of the infernal forces. Thus the Duke of Amazeroth, who seems to be a sort of brigadier-general, has the command of sixty legions, etc. [4] Satan is a mere third-rate spirit, as they will find by consulting a list of the Infernal Privy Council for 1669, contained in Faust's 'Black Raven.' But we are not told the exact date of his deposition from his primacy. It is singular that both in the book of Job, where he is mentioned for the first time, and in the Scandinavian mythologers, he appears in a similar character--"The Ranger," or "Roving Spirit of Tartarus." See Whiter, Etymologicon, vol. iii., in which very learned, though now forgotten work, there is much diabolical erudition. [5] Auswahl aus des Teufels Papieren. Yet, like Cato the Censor, Lucifer may have taken to study late in life. [6] Lotichius, Oratorio super fatalibus hoc tempore Academiarum periculis: 1631. Lotichius took the trouble to compose a Latin poem on the subject of his triumphal entry. A book entitled 'Mammon' had some reputation in its day. The acknowledged author's name indeed is Harris; yet some commentator of the year 2150 will perhaps suggest that it was 'Old Harry's Mammon.' We have seen worse "conjectural emendations." [7] Colloquia Mensalia. [8] Legenda Aurea Jacob. de Voragine, leg. 123. [9] _Ibid._ leg. 21. [10] Or even a bishop. See Southey's pithy and profitable tale of 'Eleemon, or a Sinner Saved.' [11] In the case of St. Lydvina, when he pleaded his case in person, and thought it a clear one, he was fairly laughed out of court, "deriso explosoque Dæmone." (Brugmann, Vita Lydvinæ, p. 290.) He was hoaxed in a still more ingenious manner by Nostradamus, who having agreed that the devil should have him, if he was buried either in the church or out of it, left directions that he should be buried in a hole in the wall. Sometimes however he was the gainer in such equivocal compacts,--as, for example, in the case of the monk who was to live so long as he abstained from sleeping between sheets. The monk always slept in a chair; but in an unlucky hour Satan caught him as fast as a top with his head between _the sheets_ of a sermon, and claimed his bond. [12] Inferno, canto vi. [13] The trials at Arras, in 1459. Vide Monstrelet's Chronicle, vol. iii. p. 84: Paris, 1572. But these were rather religious prosecutions against supposed heretics, and the crime of witchcraft only introduced as aggravating their offences. [14] Christoph von Ranzow, a nobleman of Holstein, burned eighteen at once on _one_ of his estates. [15] Some of our readers may wish to see a specimen of this precious production. We shall take a stanza or two, descriptive of the joke of which the poor witch was the victim. Ein Hexen hat man gefangen, zu Zeit die war sehr reich Mit der man lang umbgaben ehe sie bekannte gleich, Dann sie blieb darauf beständig es gescheh ihr Unrecht gross, Bis man ihr macht nothwendig _diesen artlichen Poss_(!), Das ich mich drüber wunder; man schickt ein Henkersknecht Zu ihr ins Gefängniss 'nunter, den man hat kleidet recht Mit einer Bärnhaute als wenns der Teufel wär; Als ihm die Drut anschaute meynts ihr Buhl kam daher. Sie sprach zu ihm behende, wie lestu mich so lang In der Obrigkeit Hände? Hilf mir aus ihren Zwang, Wie du mir hast verheissen, ich bin ja eben dein; Thu mich aus der Angst entreissen, o liebster Bule mein! Sie thet sich selbst verrathen, und gab Anzeigung viel Sie hat nit geschmeckt den Braten, _was das war für ein Spiel_(!). Er tröstet sie und saget, ich will dir helfen wohl; Darum sey unverzaget, Morgens geschehen soll. It bears the colophon "Printed at Smalcald in the year 1627." [16] When these horrors were thus versified, it is not wonderful to find them "improved" by the preachers of the time. At Riga, in 1626, there appeared 'Nine Select Witch Sermons, by Hermann Sampsonius, superintendent at Riga,' and many others in the course of that century. [17] Criminal Law. Tit. x. [18] Records of Justiciary. Trial of the Master of Orkney. [19] Calef's Journal. [20] Cobbett's State Trials. [21] Trial of Bartie Paterson. Records of Scottish Justiciary. Dec. 18, 1607. [22] In Wenham's case, Mr. Chauncy deposed that a cat belonging to Jane Wenham had come and _knocked_ at his door at night, and that he had killed it. This was founded on evidence at the trial. [23] Rec. of Just. 1613, Dec. 1. [24] See the 'Neue Necrologie der Deutschen, 1823,' for an account of these remarkable appearances. [25] Divina et Vera Metaphysica. [26] Wordsworth's 'Dion.' [27] The prefixed characters which Ashmole interprets to mean Responsum Raphaelis seem remarkably to resemble that cabalistic-looking initial which in medical prescriptions is commonly interpreted "Recipe." [28] Dapper (Beschreibung von Amsterdam, p. 150) describes her as a melancholy or hypochondriac girl. She was burned however as usual. These rhyming or alliterative charms are of very remote antiquity. Cato, in his treatise on Husbandry, recommends the following formulary for a sprain or fracture: "Huat Hanat, Huat Ista, Pista Sista, Domiabo Damnaustra," or "Motas Væta, Daries Dardaries, Astataries Dissunapiter." [29] This, indeed, is an almost invariable feature in the witch trials, and, if the subject could justify the discussion, might lead to some singular medical conclusions. [30] The trade of a pricker, as it was called, _i. e._ a person who put pins into the flesh of a witch, was a regular one in Scotland and England, as well as on the Continent. Sir George Mackenzie mentions the case of one of them who confessed the imposture (p. 48); and a similar instance is mentioned by Spottiswood (p. 448). Sir Walter Scott gives the following account of this trade:--"One celebrated mode of detecting witches, and torturing them at the same time, to draw forth confession, was, by running pins into their body, on pretence of discovering the devil's stigma, or mark, which was said to be inflicted by him upon all his vassals, and to be insensible to pain. This species of search, the practice of the infamous Hopkins, was in Scotland reduced to a trade; and the young witch-finder was allowed to torture the accused party, as if in exercise of a lawful calling, although Sir George Mackenzie stigmatizes it as a horrid imposture. I observe in the Collections of Mr. Pitcairn, that, at the trial of Janet Peaston of Dalkeith, the magistrates and ministers of that market-town caused John Kincaid of Tranent, the common pricker, to exercise his craft upon her, 'who found two marks of what he called the devil's making, and which appeared indeed to be so, for she could not feel the pin when it was put into either of the said marks, nor did they (the marks) bleed when they were taken out again; and when she was asked where she thought the pins were put in, she pointed to a part of her body distant from the real place. They were pins of three inches in length.' Besides the fact, that the persons of old people especially sometimes contain spots void of sensibility, there is also room to believe that the professed prickers used a pin, the point or lower part of which was, on being pressed down, sheathed in the upper, which was hollow for the purpose, and that which appeared to enter the body did not pierce it at all."--_Demonology and Witchcraft_, p. 297. [31] Peter died in prison just in time to escape the flames. He was burned in effigy however after his death. [32] Lindon, cited by Wyttenbach, 'Versuch einer Geschichte von Trier,' vol. iii. p. 110. [33] Beyträge zur Beförderung einer nähern Einsicht in das gesammte Geisterreich, vol. i. p. 284. [34] The Abbé Fiard, one of the latest believers on record, has printed the Requête at full length in his 'Lettres sur la Magie,' p. 117 _et seq._ [35] Even now a complaint of 'being bewitched' is occasionally made to Justices of the Peace by the very ignorant or the very malignant. [36] Trials and other Proceedings in Matters Criminal before the High Court of Justiciary in Scotland, selected from the Records of that Court. By Robert Pitcairn. Edinburgh. [37] Holingshed, vol. i. pp. 50, 317. [38] At the second marriage of Alexander III., Fordun, vol. ii. p. 128. Boece, p. 294, ed. 1574. [39] Boece, p. 149. [40] In the case of Cameron, Bishop of Glasgow, 1466.--Buchanan. Pitscottie. [41] "Quell' altro, che nei fianchi è così poco, Michele Scotto fu, che veramente Delle magiche frode seppe il giuoco."--_Canto xx._ [42] As in the case of the witches at Forres, who attempted to destroy King Duffus by the favourite pagan charm of roasting his image in wax, and those burnt at Edinburgh for a similar attempt against James III., in 1479. [43] Scot of Scotstarvet, Home of Godscroft, _passim_. [44] Nov. 8, 1576. Pitcairn, vol. i. p. 48. [45] Ibid. p. 51. [46] Rec. of Just. May 27, 1601. [47] News from Scotland, declaring the damnable life of Dr. Fian.--Pitcairn, vol. i. p. 213. [48] We need hardly remind our readers of the torture of Macbriar by the Boots, before the Privy Council, in the 'Tales of my Landlord.' [49] Old French, _Turquois_, a smith's pincers, from _torquere_. [50] Sir James Melville, p. 294. [51] Pitcairn, vol. i. p. 211. [52] Crook--the hook from which pots are hung over a Scottish kitchen fire. [53] Just. Records, 1590-1610. [54] Most of the cases here cited are found in the Justiciary Records, from about 1605 to 1640. [55] Feb. 4, 1629. [56] Just. Records, Jan. 1630. [57] Just. Rec., Dec. 1643. [58] The paper is marked on the back, "Edinburgh, July 10th, 1662: considered and found relevant by the Justice Depute." The part of Janet Braidhead's deposition, which appears to have borne a similar marking by the Justice Depute, is torn off. [59] Her fellow-witch, Braidhead, was baptized by the very inappropriate name of _Christian_. [60] This seems to have been a common practice in the Infernal ritual. Law gives the nicknames of the Renfrewshire witches, in the Bangarran Case. (Memorials, p. 122.) [61] Taking the form of foul and ominous birds was a favourite practice of witches in all ages. Apuleius, in his character of Lucius, thus describes the metamorphosis of his hostess at Larissa:-- "Pamphile divested herself of all her garments, and opening a certain cabinet took out of it a number of boxes. From one of these she selected a salve, and anointed herself from head to foot; and after much muttering, she began to rock and wave herself to and fro. Presently a soft down covered her limbs, and a pair of wings sprang from her shoulders: her nose became a beak: her nails talons. Pamphile was now in form a complete owl. Then uttering a low shriek she began to jump from the floor, and after a brief while flew out of the window and vanished. She winged her way, I was assured by Fotis, to some expectant lover. And this was the last I saw of the old lady." [62] Just. Records. Jan. 27, 1662. [63] Vol. i. Decisions, p. 14. Reading for Travellers. A NEW LIBRARY OF RAILWAY LITERATURE. _Printed in a clear and legible type, expressly adapted to the convenience of Railway Travellers._ "TELLUS IN LONGAS EST PATEFACTA VIAS."--_Tibullus._ In introducing to the notice of the Public a new Series of Railway Literature, the Publishers desire to explain briefly the course which it is their intention to pursue. The above title--READING FOR TRAVELLERS--may sufficiently express the principal object in view. From this, however, it must not be assumed that the Series it denominates will be adapted to the wants of travellers only, or intended merely to wile away an idle hour by lessening the tedium of a railway journey. On the contrary, it is the wish of the Publishers to present Works of permanent value, rather than of merely ephemeral attraction, affording instruction whilst ministering to amusement. 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22822	----	Transcriber's notes The "oe" ligature is represented as [oe]. The footnotes have been moved and renumbered for easier reading. A list of corrections is included at the end of the book. SUPERSTITIONS OF WITCHCRAFT. London Printed by Spottiswoode and Co. New-Street Square THE SUPERSTITIONS OF WITCHCRAFT. by HOWARD WILLIAMS, M.A. St. John's College, Cambridge. 'Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas, Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala rides?' London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts, & Green. 1865. PREFACE. 'THE SUPERSTITIONS OF WITCHCRAFT' is designed to exhibit a consecutive review of the characteristic forms and facts of a creed which (if at present apparently dead, or at least harmless, in Christendom) in the seventeenth century was a living and lively faith, and caused thousands of victims to be sent to the torture-chamber, to the stake, and to the scaffold. At this day, the remembrance of its superhuman art, in its different manifestations, is immortalised in the every-day language of the peoples of Europe. * * * * * The belief in Witchcraft is, indeed, in its full development and most fearful results, modern still more than mediæval, Christian still more than Pagan, and Protestant not less than Catholic. CONTENTS. PART I. CHAPTER I. The Origin, Prevalence, and Variety of Superstition--The Belief in Witchcraft the most horrid Form of Superstition--Most flourishing in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries--The Sentiments of Addison, Blackstone, and the Lawyers of the Eighteenth Century upon the Subject--Chaldean and Persian Magic--Jewish Witchcraft--Its important Influence on Christian and Modern Belief--Greek Pharmacy and Sorcery--Early Roman Laws against Conjuration and Magic Charms--Crimes perpetrated, under the Empire, in connection with Sorceric Practices--The general Persecution for Magic under Valentinian and Valens--German and Scandinavian Sagæ--Essential Difference between Eastern and Western Sorcery--The probable Origin of the general Belief in an Evil Principle PAGE 3 PART II. CHAPTER I. Compromise between the New and the Old Faiths--Witchcraft under the Early Church--The Sentiments of the Fathers and the Decrees of Councils--Platonic Influences--Historical, Physiological, and Accidental Causes of the Attribution of Witchcraft to the Female Sex--Opinions of the Fathers and other Writers--The Witch-Compact 47 CHAPTER II. Charlemagne's Severity--Anglo-Saxon Superstition--Norman and Arabic Magic--Influence of Arabic Science--Mohammedan Belief in Magic--Rabbinical Learning--Roger Bacon--The Persecution of the Templars--Alice Kyteler 63 CHAPTER III. Witchcraft and Heresy purposely confounded by the Church--Mediæval Science closely connected with Magic and Sorcery--Ignorance of Physiology the Cause of many of the Popular Prejudices--Jeanne d'Arc--Duchess of Gloucester--Jane Shore--Persecution at Arras 84 PART III. CHAPTER I. The Bull of Innocent VIII.--A new Incentive to the vigorous Prosecution of Witchcraft--The 'Malleus Maleficarum'--Its Criminal Code--Numerous Executions at the Commencement of the Sixteenth Century--Examination of Christian Demonology--Various Opinions of the Nature of Demons--General Belief in the Intercourse of Demons and other non-human Beings with Mankind 101 CHAPTER II. Three Sorts of Witches--Various Modes of Witchcraft--Manner of Witch-Travelling--The Sabbaths--Anathemas of the Popes against the Crime--Bull of Adrian VI.--Cotemporary Testimony to the Severity of the Persecutions--Necessary Triumph of the Orthodox Party--Germany most subject to the Superstition--Acts of Parliament of Henry VIII. against Witchcraft--Elizabeth Barton--The Act of 1562--Executions under Queen Elizabeth's Government--Case of Witchcraft narrated by Reginald Scot 126 CHAPTER III. The 'Discoverie of Witchcraft,' published 1584--Wier's 'De Præstigiis Dæmonum,' &c.--Naudé--Jean Bodin--His 'De la Démonomanie des Sorciers,' published at Paris, 1580--His Authority--Nider--Witch-case at Warboys--Evidence adduced at the Trial--Remarkable as being the Origin of the Institution of an Annual Sermon at Huntingdon 144 CHAPTER IV. Astrology in Antiquity--Modern Astrology and Alchymy--Torralvo--Adventures of Dr. Dee and Edward Kelly--Prospero and Comus, Types respectively of the Theurgic and Goetic Arts--Magicians on the Stage in the Sixteenth Century--Occult Science in Southern Europe--Causes of the inevitable Mistakes of the pre-Scientific Ages 157 CHAPTER V. Sorcery in Southern Europe--Cause of the Retention of the Demonological Creed among the Protestant Sects--Calvinists the most Fanatical of the Reformed Churches--Witch-Creed sanctioned in the Authorised Version of the Sacred Scriptures--The Witch-Act of 1604--James VI.'s 'Demonologie'--Lycanthropy and Executions in France--The French Provincial Parliaments active in passing Laws against the various Witch-practices--Witchcraft in the Pyrenees--Commission of Inquiry appointed--Its Results--Demonology in Spain 168 CHAPTER VI. 'Possession' in France in the Seventeenth Century--Urbain Grandier and the Convent of Loudun--Exorcism at Aix--Ecstatic Phenomena--Madeleine Bavent--Her cruel Persecution--Catholic and Protestant Witchcraft in Germany--Luther's Demonological Fears and Experiences--Originated in his exceptional Position and in the extraordinary Circumstances of his Life and Times--Witch-burning at Bamburg and at Würzburg 186 CHAPTER VII. Scotland one of the most Superstitious Countries in Europe--Scott's Relation of the Barbarities perpetrated in the Witch-trials under the Auspices of James VI.--The Fate of Agnes Sampson, Euphane MacCalzean, &c.--Irrational Conduct of the Courts of Justice--Causes of Voluntary Witch-Confessions--Testimony of Sir G. Mackenzie, &c.--Trial and Execution of Margaret Barclay--Computation of the Number of Witches who suffered Death in England and Scotland in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries--Witches burned alive at Edinburgh in 1608--The Lancashire Witches--Sir Thomas Overbury and Dr. Forman--Margaret Flower and Lord Rosse 203 CHAPTER VIII. The Literature of Europe in the Seventeenth Century proves the Universality and Horror of Witchcraft--The most acute and most liberal Men of Learning convinced of its Reality--Erasmus and Francis Bacon--Lawyers prejudiced by Legislation--Matthew Hale's judicial Assertion--Sir Thomas Browne's Testimony--John Selden--The English Church least Ferocious of the Protestant Sects--Jewell and Hooker--Independent Tolerance--Witchcraft under the Presbyterian Government--Matthew Hopkins--Gaule's 'Select Cases of Conscience'--Judicial and Popular Methods of Witch-discovery--Preventive Charms--Witchfinders a Legal and Numerous Class in England and Scotland--Remission in the Severity of the Persecution under the Protectorship 219 CHAPTER IX. Glanvil's Sadducismus Triumphatus--His Sentiments on Witchcraft and Demonology--Baxter's 'Certainty of the World of Spirits,' &c.--Witch Trial at Bury St. Edmund's by Sir Matthew Hale, 1664--The Evidence adduced in Court--Two Witches hanged--Three hanged at Exeter in 1682--The last Witches judicially executed in England--Uniformity of the Evidence adduced at the Trials--Webster's Attack upon the Witch-creed in 1677--Witch Trials in England at the end of the Seventeenth Century--French Parliaments vindicate the Diabolic Reality of the Crime--Witchcraft in Sweden 237 CHAPTER X. Witchcraft in the English Colonies in North America--Puritan Intolerance and Superstition--Cotton Mather's 'Late Memorable Providences'--Demoniacal Possession--Evidence given before the Commission--Apologies issued by Authority--Sudden Termination of the Proceedings--Reactionary Feeling against the Agitators--The Salem Witchcraft the last Instance of Judicial Prosecution on a large Scale in Christendom--Philosophers begin to expose the Superstition--Meritorious Labours of Webster, Becker, and others--Their Arguments could reach only the Educated and Wealthy Classes of Society--These only partially enfranchised--The Superstition continues to prevail among the Vulgar--Repeal of the Witch Act in England in 1736--Judicial and Popular Persecutions in England in the Eighteenth Century--Trial of Jane Wenham in England in 1712--Maria Renata burned in Germany in 1749--La Cadière in France--Last Witch burned in Scotland in 1722--Recent Cases of Witchcraft--Protestant Superstition--Witchcraft in the Extra-Christian World 259 PART I. EARLIER FAITH. CHAPTER I. The Origin, Prevalence, and Variety of Superstition--The Belief in Witchcraft the most horrid Form of Superstition--Most flourishing in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries--The Sentiments of Addison, Blackstone, and the Lawyers of the Eighteenth Century upon the Subject--Chaldean and Persian Magic--Jewish Witchcraft--Its important Influence on Christian and Modern Belief--Greek Pharmacy and Sorcery--Early Roman Laws against Conjuration and Magic Charms--Crimes perpetrated, under the Empire, in connection with Sorceric Practices--The general Persecution for Magic under Valentinian and Valens--German and Scandinavian Sagæ--The probable Origin of the general Belief in an Evil Principle. Superstition, the product of ignorance of causes, of the proneness to seek the solution of phenomena out of and beyond nature, and of the consequent natural but unreasoning dread of the Unknown and Invisible (ignorantly termed the supernatural), is at once universal in the extent, and various in the kinds, of its despotism. Experience and reason seem to prove that, inherent to and apparently coexistent with the human mind, it naturally originates in the constitution of humanity: in ignorance and uncertainty, in an instinctive doubt and fear of the _Unknown_. Accident may moderate its power among particular peoples and persons; and there are always exceptional minds whose natural temper and exercise of reason are able to free them from the servitude of a delusive imagination. For the mass of mankind, the germ of superstition, prepared to assume always a new shape and sometimes fresh vigour, is indestructible. The severest assaults are ineffectual to eradicate it: hydra-like, far from being destroyed by a seeming mortal stroke, it often raises its many-headed form with redoubled force. It will appear more philosophic to deplore the imperfection, than to deride the folly of human nature, when the fact that the superstitious sentiment is not only a result of mere barbarism or vulgar ignorance, to be expelled of course by civilisation and knowledge, but is indigenous in the life of every man, barbarous or civilised, pagan or Christian, is fully recognised. The enlightening influence of science, as far as it extends, is irresistible; and its progress within certain limits seems sure and almost omnipotent. But it is unfortunately limited in the extent of its influence, as well as uncertain in duration; while reason enjoys a feeble reign compared with ignorance and imagination.[1] If it is the great office of history to teach by experience, it is never useless to examine the causes and the facts of a mischievous creed that has its roots deep in the ignorant fears of mankind; but against the recurrence of the fatal effects of fanaticism apparent in the earliest and latest records of the world, there can be no sufficient security. [1] That 'speculation has on every subject of human enquiry three successive stages; in the first of which it tends to explain the phenomena by supernatural agencies, in the second by metaphysical abstractions, and in the third or final state, confines itself to ascertaining their laws of succession and similitude' (_System of Logic_, by J. S. Mill), is a generalisation of Positive Philosophy, and a theory of the Science of History, consistent probably with the progress of knowledge among philosophers, but is scarcely applicable to the mass of mankind. Dreams, magic terrors, miracles, witches, ghosts, portents, are some of the various forms superstition has invented and magnified to disturb the peace of society as well as of individuals. The most extravagant of these need not be sought in the remoter ages of the human race, or even in the 'dark ages' of European history: they are sufficiently evident in the legislation and theology, as well as in the popular prejudices of the seventeenth century. The belief in the _infernal_ art of witchcraft is perhaps the most horrid, as it certainly is the most absurd, phenomenon in the religious history of the world. Of the millions of victims sacrificed on the altars of religion this particular delusion can claim a considerable proportion. By a moderate computation, nine millions have been burned or hanged since the establishment of Christianity.[2] Prechristian antiquity experienced its tremendous power, and the primitive faith of Christianity easily accepted and soon developed it. It was reserved, however, for the triumphant Church to display it in its greatest horrors: and if we deplore the too credulous or accommodative faith of the early militant Church or the unilluminated ignorance of paganism, we may still more indignantly denounce the cruel policy of Catholicism and the barbarous folly of Protestant theology which could deliberately punish an impossible crime. It is the reproach of Protestantism that this persecution was most furiously raging in the age that produced Newton and Locke. Compared with its atrocities even the Marian burnings appear as nothing: and it may well be doubted whether the fanatic zeal of the 'bloody Queen,' is no less contemptible than the credulous barbarity of the judges of the seventeenth century. The period 1484 (the year in which Innocent VIII. published his famous 'Witch Hammer' signally ratified 120 years later by the Act of Parliament of James I. of England) to 1680 might be characterised not improperly as the era of devil-worship; and we are tempted almost to embrace the theory of Zerdusht and the Magi and conceive that Ahriman was then superior in the eternal strife; to imagine the _Evil One_, as in the days of the Man of Uz, 'going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it.' It is come to that at the present day, according to a more rational observer of the seventeenth century, that it is regarded as a part of religion to ascribe great wonders to the devil; and those are taxed with infidelity and perverseness who hesitate to believe what thousands relate concerning his power. Whoever does not do so is accounted an atheist because he cannot persuade himself that there are two Gods, the one good and the other evil[3]--an assertion which is no mere hyperbole or exaggeration of a truth: there is the certain evidence of facts as well as the concurrent testimony of various writers. [2] According to Dr. Sprenger (_Life of Mohammed_). Cicero's observation that there was no people either so civilised or learned, or so savage and barbarous, that had not a belief that the future may be predicted by certain persons (De Divinatione, i.), is justified by the faith of Christendom, as well as by that of paganism; and is as true of witchcraft as it is of prophecy or divination. [3] Dr. Balthazar Becker, Amsterdam, 1691, quoted in Mosheim's _Institutes of Ecclesiastical History_, ed. Reid. Those (comparatively few) whose reason and humanity alike revolted from a horrible dogma, loudly proclaim the prevailing prejudice. Such protests, however, were, for a long time at least, feeble and useless--helplessly overwhelmed by the irresistible torrent of public opinion. All classes of society were almost equally infected by a plague-spot that knew no distinction of class or rank. If theologians (like Bishop Jewell, one of the most esteemed divines in the Anglican Church, publicly asserting on a well known occasion at once his faith and his fears) or lawyers (like Sir Edward Coke and Judge Hale) are found unmistakably recording their undoubting conviction, they were bound, it is plain, the one class by theology, the other by legislation. Credulity of so extraordinary a kind is sufficiently surprising even in theologians; but what is to be thought of the deliberate opinion of unbiassed writers of a recent age maintaining the possibility, if not the actual occurrence, of the facts of the belief? The deliberate judgment of Addison, whose wit and preeminent graces of style were especially devoted to the extirpation of almost every sort of popular folly of the day, could declare: 'When I hear the relations that are made from all parts of the world, not only from Norway and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, but from every particular nation in Europe, I cannot forbear thinking that there is such an intercourse and commerce with evil spirits as that which we express by the name of witchcraft.... In short, when I consider the question whether there are such persons in the world as those we call witches, my mind is divided between two opposite opinions; or rather, to speak my thoughts freely, I believe in general that there is and has been such a thing as witchcraft, but at the same time can give no credit to any particular modern instance of it.'[4] Evidence, if additional were wanted, how deference to authority and universal custom may subdue the reason and understanding. The language and decision of Addison are adopted by Sir W. Blackstone in 'Commentaries on the Laws of England,' who shelters himself behind that celebrated author's sentiment; and Gibbon informs us that 'French and English lawyers of the present age [the latter half of the last century] allow the _theory_ but deny the _practice_ of witchcraft'--influenced doubtless by the spirit of the past legislation of their respective countries. In England the famous enactment of the subservient parliament of James I. against the crimes of sorcery, &c., was repealed in the middle of the reign of George II., our laws sanctioning not 130 years since the popular persecution, if not the legal punishment. [4] _Spectator_, No. 117. The sentiments of Addison on a kindred subject are very similar. Writing about the vulgar ghost creed, he adds these remarkable words: 'At the same time I think a person who is thus terrified with the imagination of ghosts and spectres much more reasonable than one who, contrary to the reports of all historians, sacred and profane, ancient and modern, and to the traditions of all nations, thinks the appearance of spirits fabulous and groundless. Could not I give myself up to the general testimony of mankind, I should to the relations of particular persons who are now living, and whom I cannot distrust in other matters of fact.' Samuel Johnson (whose prejudices were equalled only by his range of knowledge) proved his faith in a well-known case, if afterwards he advanced so far as to consider the question as to the reality of 'ghosts' as _undecided_. Sir W. Scott, who wrote when the profound metaphysical inquiries of Hume had gained ground (it is observable), is quite sceptical. The origin of witchcraft and the vulgar diabolism is to be found in the rude beginnings of the religious or superstitious feeling which, known amongst the present savage nations as Fetishism, probably prevailed almost universally in the earliest ages; while that of the sublimer magic is discovered in the religious systems of the ancient Chaldeans and Persians. Chaldea and Egypt were the first, as far as is known, to cultivate the science of magic: the former people long gave the well-known name to the professional practisers of the art. Cicero (_de Divinatione_) celebrates, and the Jewish prophets frequently deride, their skill in divination and their modes of incantation. The story of Daniel evidences how highly honoured and lucrative was the magical or divining faculty. The Chazdim, or Chaldeans, a priestly caste inhabiting a wide and level country, must have soon applied themselves to the study, so useful to their interests, of their brilliant expanse of heavens. By a prolonged and 'daily observation,' considerable knowledge must have been attained; but in the infancy of the science astronomy necessarily took the form of an empirical art which, under the name of astrology, engaged the serious attention and perplexed the brains of the mediæval students of science or magic (nearly synonymous terms), and which still survives in England in the popular almanacks. The natural objects of veneration to the inhabitants of Assyria were the glorious luminaries of the sun and moon; and if their worship of the stars and planets degenerated into many absurd fancies, believing an intimate connection and subordination of human destiny to celestial influences, it may be admitted that a religious sentiment of this kind in its primitive simplicity was more rational, or at least sublime, than most other religious systems. It is not necessary to trace the oriental creeds of magic further than they affected modern beliefs; but in the divinities and genii of Persia are more immediately traced the spiritual existences of Jewish and Christian belief. From the Persian priests are derived both the name and the practice of magic. The Evil Principle of the Magian, of the later Jewish, and thence of the western world, originated in the system (claiming Zoroaster as its founder), which taught a duality of Gods. The philosophic lawgiver, unable to penetrate the mystery of the empire of evil and misery in the world, was convinced that there is an equal and antagonistic power to the representative of light and goodness. Hence the continued eternal contention between Ormuzd with the good spirits or genii, Amchaspands, on one side, and Ahriman with the Devs (who may represent the infernal crew of Christendom) on the other. Egypt, in the Mosaic and Homeric ages, seems to have attained considerable skill in magic, as well as in chymistry and astrology. As an abstruse and esoteric doctrine, it was strictly confined to the priests, or to the favoured few who were admitted to initiation. The magic excellence of the magicians, who successfully emulated the miracles of Moses, was apparently assisted by a legerdemain similar to that of the Hindu jugglers of the present day.[5] [5] The names of two of these magicians, Jannes and Jambres, have been preserved by revelation or tradition. In Persian theology, the shadowy idea of the devil of western Asia was wholly different from the grosser conception of Christendom. Neither the evil principle of Magianism nor the witch of Palestine has much in common with the Christian. 'No contract of subjection to a diabolic power, no infernal stamp or sign of such a fatal league, no revellings of Satan and his hags,'[6] no such materialistic notions could be conformable to the spirit of Judaism or at least of Magianism. It is not difficult to find the cause of this essential dissimilarity. A simple unity was severely inculcated by the religion and laws of Moses, which permitted little exercise of the imagination: while the Magi were equally severe against idolatrous forms. A monstrous idea, like that of 'Satan and his hags,' was impossible to them. Christianity, the religion of the West, has received its _corporeal_ ideas of demonology from the divinities and demons of heathenism. The Satyri and Fauni of Greece and Rome have suggested in part the form, and perhaps some of the characteristics, of the vulgar Christian devil. A knowledge of the arts of magic among the Jews was probably derived from their Egyptian life, while the Bedouins of Arabia and Syria (kindred peoples) may have instilled the less scientific rites of Fetishism. It is in the early accounts of that people that sorcery, whatever its character and profession, with the allied arts of divination, necromancy, incantations, &c., appears most flourishing. The Mosaic penalty, 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,' and the comprehensive injunction, 'There shall not be found among you that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer,' indicate at once the extent and the horror of the practice. Balaam (that equivocal prophet), on the border-land of Arabia and Palestine, was courted and dreaded as a wizard who could perplex whole armies by means of spells. His fame extended far and wide; he was summoned from his home beyond the Euphrates in the mountains of Mesopotamia by the Syrian tribes to repel the invading enemy. This great magician was, it seems, universally regarded as 'the rival and the possible conqueror of Moses.'[7] [6] Sir W. Scott, _Letters on Demonology_. [7] Dean Stanley's _Lectures on the Jewish Church_. About the time when the priestly caste had to yield to a profane monarchy, the forbidden practices were so notorious and the evil was of such magnitude, that the newly-elected prince 'ejected' (as Josephus relates) 'the fortune-tellers, necromancers, and all such as exercised the like arts.' His interview with the witch has some resemblance to modern _diablerie_ in the circumstances. Reginald Scot's rationalistic interpretation of this scene may be recommended to the commentating critics who have been so much at a loss to explain it. He derides the received opinion of the woman of Endor being an agent of the devil, and ignoring any mystery, believes, 'This Pythonist being a _ventriloqua_, that is, speaking as it were from the bottom of her belly, did cast herself into a trance and so abused Saul, answering to Saul in Samuel's name in her counterfeit hollow voice.[8] An institution very popular with the Jews of the first temple, often commemorated in their scriptures--the schools of the prophets--was (it is not improbable) of the same kind as the schools of Salamanca and Salerno in the middle ages, where magic was publicly taught as an abstruse and useful science; and when Jehu justifies his conduct towards the queen-mother by bringing a charge of witchcraft, he only anticipates an expedient common and successful in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. A Jewish prophet asserts of the Babylonian kings, that they were diligent cultivators of the arts, reproaching them with practising against the holy city. [8] _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, lib. viii. chap. 12. The contrivance of this illusion was possibly like that at Delphi, where in the centre of the temple was a chasm, from which arose an intoxicating smoke, when the priestess was to announce divine revelations. Seated over the chasm upon the tripod, the Pythia was inspired, it seems, by the soporific and maddening drugs. Yet if we may credit the national historian (not to mention the common traditions), the Chaldean monarch might have justly envied, if he could scarcely hope to emulate, the excellence of a former prince of his now obscure province. Josephus says of Solomon that, amongst other attainments, 'God enabled him to learn that skill which expels demons, which is a science useful and sanative to men. He composed such incantations also by which distempers are alleviated, and he left behind him the manner of using exorcisms by which they drive away demons so that they never return.'[9] The story of Daniel is well known. In the captivity of the two tribes carried away into an honourable servitude he soon rose into the highest favour, because, as we are informed, he excelled in a divination that surpassed all the art of the Chaldeans, themselves so famous for it. The inspired Jew had divined a dream or vision which puzzled 'the magicians, and the astrologers, and the sorcerers, and the Chaldeans,' and immediately was rewarded with the greatest gift at the disposal of a capricious despot. Most of the apologetic writers on witchcraft, in particular the authors of the 'Malleus Maleficarum,' accept the assertion of the author of the history of Daniel that Nebuchadnezzar was 'driven from men, and did eat grass as oxen,' in its apparent sense, expounding it as plainly declaring that he was corporeally metamorphosed into an ox, just as the companions of Ulysses were transformed into swine by the Circean sorceries. [9] _Antiquities_, book viii. 2. Whiston's transl. The Jewish ideas of good or at least evil spirits or angels were acquired during their forced residence in Babylon, whether under Assyrian or Persian government. At least 'Satan' is first discovered unmistakably in a personal form in the poem of Job, a work pronounced by critics to have been composed after the restoration. In the Mosaic cosmogony and legislation, the writer introduces not, expressly or impliedly, the existence of an evil principle, unless the serpent of the Paradisaic account, which has been rather arbitrarily so metamorphosed, represents it;[10] while the expressions in books vulgarly reputed before the conquest are at least doubtful. From this time forward (from the fifth century B.C.), says a German demonologist, as the Jews lived among the admirers of Zoroaster, and thus became acquainted with their doctrines, are found, partly in contradiction to the earlier views of their religion, many tenets prevailing amongst them the origin of which it is impossible to explain except by the operation of the doctrines of Zoroaster: to these belongs the general acceptance of the theory of Satan, as well as of good and bad angels.[11] Under Roman government or vassalage, sorceric practices, as they appear in the Christian scriptures, were much in vogue. Devils or demons, and the 'prince of the devils,' frequently appear; and the _demoniacs_ may represent the victims of witchcraft. The Talmud, if there is any truth in the assertions of the apologists of witchcraft, commemorates many of the most virtuous Jews accused of the crime and executed by the procurator of Judea.[12] Exorcism was a very popular and lucrative profession.[13] Simon Magus the magician (_par excellence_), the impious pretender to miraculous powers, who 'bewitched the people of Samaria by his sorceries,' is celebrated by Eusebius and succeeding Christian writers as the fruitful parent of heresy and sorcery. [10] Some ingenious remarks on the subject of the serpent, &c., may be found in _Eastern Life_, part ii. 5, by H. Martineau. [11] Horst, quoted in Ennemoser's _History of Magic_. It has been often remarked as a singular phenomenon, that the 'chosen people,' so prompt in earlier periods on every occasion to idolatry and its cruel rites, after its restoration under Persian auspices, has been ever since uniformly opposed, even fiercely, to any sign contrary to the unity of the Deity. But the Magian system was equally averse to idolatry. [12] Bishop Jewell (_Apology for the Church of England_) states that Christ was accused by the malice of his countrymen of being a juggler and wizard--_præstigiator et maleficus_. In the apostolic narrative and epistles, sorcery, witchcraft, &c., are crimes frequently described and denounced. The Sadducean sect alone denied the existence of demons. [13] The common belief of the people of Palestine in the transcendent power of exorcism is illustrated by a miracle of this sort, gravely related by Josephus. It was exhibited before Vespasian and his army. 'He [Eleazar, one of the professional class] put a ring that had a root of one of those sorts mentioned by Solomon to the nostrils of the demoniac; after which he drew out the demon through his nostrils: and when the man fell down immediately he adjured him to return into him no more, making still mention of Solomon, and reciting the incantations which he composed. And when Eleazar would demonstrate to the spectators that he had such power, he set a little way off a cup or basin full of water, and commanded the demon as he went out of the man to overturn it, and thereby to let the spectators know he had left the man.' This performance was received with contempt or credulity by the spectators according to their faith: but the credulity of the believers could hardly exceed that of a large number of educated people, who in our own generation detect in the miracles of animal magnetism, or the legerdemain of jugglers, an infernal or supernatural agency. That witchcraft, or whatever term expresses the criminal practice, prevailed among the worshippers of Jehovah, is evident from the repeated anathemas both in their own and the Christian scriptures, not to speak of traditional legends; but the Hebrew and Greek expressions seem both to include at least the use of drugs and perhaps of poison.[14] The Jewish creed, as exposed in their scriptures, has deserved a fame it would not otherwise have, because upon it have been founded by theologians, Catholic and Protestant, the arguments and apology for the reality of witchcraft, derived from the sacred writings, with an ingenuity only too common and successful in supporting peculiar prejudices and interests even of the most monstrous kind.[15] [14] _Chashaph_ and _Pharmakeia._ Biblical critics are inclined, however, to accept in its strict sense the translation of the Jacobian divines. 'Since in the LXX.,' says Parkhurst, the lexicographer of the N.T., 'this noun [pharmakeia] and its relatives always answer to some Hebrew word that denotes some kind of their magical or conjuring tricks; and since it is too notorious to be insisted upon, that such infernal practices have always prevailed, and do still prevail in idolatrous countries, I prefer the other sense of incantation.' [15] A sort of ingenuity much exercised of late by 'sober brows approving with a text' the institution of slavery: _divine_, according to them; _the greatest evil that afflicts mankind_, according to Alexander von Humboldt. See _Personal Narrative_. In examining the phenomenon as it existed among the Greeks and Romans, it will be remarked that, while the Greeks seem to have mainly adopted the ideas of the East, the Roman superstition was of Italian origin. Their respective expressions for the predictive or presentient faculty (_manteia_ and _divinatio_), as Cicero is careful to explain, appear to indicate its different character with those two peoples: the one being the product of a sort of madness, the other an elaborate and divine skill. Greek traditions made them believe that the magic science was brought from Egypt or Asia by their old philosophic and legislating sages. Some of the most eminent of the founders of philosophic schools were popularly accused of encouraging it. Pythagoras (it is the complaint of Plato) is said to have introduced to his countrymen an art derived from his foreign travels; a charge which recalls the names of Roger Bacon, Albertus Magnus, Galileo, and others, who had to pay the penalty of a premature knowledge by the suspicion of their cotemporaries. Xenophanes is said to be the only one of the philosophers who admitted the existence or providence of the gods, and at the same time entirely discredited divination. Of the Stoics, Panætius was the only one who ventured even to doubt. Some gave credit to one or two particular modes only, as those of dreams and frenzy; but for the most part every form of this sort of divine revelation was implicitly received.[16] [16] Cicero, in his second book _De Divinatione_, undertakes to refute the arguments of the Stoics, 'the force of whose mind, being all turned to the side of morals, unbent itself in that of religion.' The divining faculty is divisible generally into the artificial and the natural. The science of magic proper is developed in the later schools of philosophy, in which Oriental theology or demonology was largely mixed. Apollonius of Tyana, a modern Pythagorean, is the most famous magician of antiquity. This great miracle-worker of paganism was born at the commencement of the Christian era; and it has been observed that his miracles, though quite independent of them, curiously coincide both in time and kind with the Christian.[17] According to his biographer Philostratus, this extraordinary man (whose travels and researches extended, we are assured, over the whole East even into India, through Greece, Italy, Spain, northern Africa, Ethiopia, &c.) must have been in possession of a scientific knowledge which, compared with that of his cotemporaries, might be deemed almost supernatural. Extraordinary attainments suggested to him in later life to excite the awe of the vulgar by investing himself with magical powers. Apollonius is said to have assisted Vespasian in his struggle for the throne of the Cæsars; afterwards, when accused of raising an insurrection against Domitian, and when he had given himself up voluntarily to the imperial tribunal at Rome, he escaped impending destruction by the exertion of his superhuman art. [17] The proclamation of the birth of Apollonius to his mother by Proteus, and the incarnation of Proteus himself, the chorus of swans which sang for joy on the occasion, the casting out of devils, raising the dead, and healing the sick, the sudden appearances and disappearances of Apollonius, his adventures in the cave of Trophonius, and the sacred voice which called him at his death, to which may be added his claim as a teacher having authority to reform the world, 'cannot fail to suggest,' says a writer in the _Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography_, &c., ed. by Dr. W. Smith, 'the parallel passages in the Gospel history.' Of the incantations, charms, and magic compounds in the practice of Greek witchcraft, numerous examples occur in the tragic and comic poetry of Greece; and the _philtres_, or love-charms, of Theocritus are well known. The names of Colchis, Chaldea, Assyria, Iberia, Thrace, may indicate the origin of a great part of the Hellenic sorceries. Yet, if the more honourable science may have been of foreign extraction, Hellas was not without something of the sorcery of modern Europe. The infernal goddess Hecate, of Greek celebrity, is the omnipotent patroness of her modern Christian slaves; and she presides at the witch meetings of Christendom with as much solemnity but with far greater malice. Originally of celestial rank, by a later metamorphosis connected, if not personally identical with, Persephone, the Queen of Hades, Hecate was invested with many of the characteristic attributes of a modern devil, or rather perhaps of a witch. The triple goddess, in her various shapes, wandered about at night with the souls of the dead, terrifying the trembling country people by apparitions of herself and infernal satellites, by the horrible whining and howls of her hellhounds which always announced her approach. She frequented cross-roads, tombs, and melancholy places, especially delighting in localities famous for deeds of blood and murder. The hobgoblins, the various malicious demons and spirits, who provoked the lively terrors of the mediæval peoples, had some prototypes in the fairy-land of Greece, in the Hecatean hobgoblins (like the Latin larvæ, &c.), Empusa, Mormo, and other products of an affrighted imagination familiar to the students of Greek literature in the comic pages of Aristophanes.[18] From the earliest literary records down to the latest times of paganism as the state religion, from the times of the Homeric Circe and Ulysses (the latter has been recognised by many as a genuine wizard) to the age of Apollonius or Apuleius, magic and sorcery, as a philosophical science or as a vulgar superstition, had apparently more or less distinctly a place in the popular mythology of old Greece. But in the pagan history of neither Greece nor Rome do we read of holocausts of victims, as in Christian Europe, immolated on the altars of a horrid superstition.[19] The occasion of the composition of the treatise by Apuleius 'On Magic' is somewhat romantic. On his way to Alexandria, the philosopher, being disabled from proceeding on the journey, was hospitably received into the mansion of one Sicinius Pontianus. Here, during the interesting period of his recovery, he captivated, or was captivated by, the love of his host's mother, a wealthy widow, and the lovers were soon united by marriage. Pudentilla's relatives, indignant at the loss of a much-coveted, and perhaps long-expected fortune, brought an action against Apuleius for having gained her affection by means of spells or charms. The cause was heard before the proconsul of Africa, and the apology of the accused labours to convince his judges that a widow's love might be provoked without superhuman means.[20] [18] Particularly in the _Batrachoi_. The dread of the infernal apparition of the fierce Gorgo in Hades blanched the cheek of even much-daring Odysseus (Od. xi. 633). The satellites of Hecate have been compared, not disadvantageously, with the monstrous guardians of hell; than whom 'Nor uglier follow the night-hag when, called In secret, riding through the air she comes Lured with the smell of infant blood to dance With Lapland witches--.' [19] An exceptional case, on the authority of Demosthenes, is that of a woman condemned in the year, or within a year or two, of the execution of Socrates. [20] St. Augustin, in denouncing the Platonic theories of Apuleius, of the mediation and intercession of demons between gods and men, and exposing his magic heresies, takes occasion to taunt him with having evaded his just fate by not professing, like the Christian martyrs, his real faith when delivering his 'very copious and eloquent' apology (_De Civitate Dei_, lib. viii. 19). In the _Golden Ass_ of the Greek romancist of the second century, who, in common with his cotemporary the great rationalist Lucian, deserves the praise of having exposed (with more wit perhaps than success) some of the most absurd prejudices of the day, his readers are entertained with stories that might pretty nearly represent the sentiments of the seventeenth century. Gibbon observes of the Roman superstition on the authority of Petronius, that it may be inferred that it was of Italian rather than barbaric extraction. Etruria furnished the people of Romulus with the science of divination. Early in the history of the Republic the law is very explicit on the subject of witchcraft. In the decemviral code the extreme penalty is attached to the crime of witchcraft or conjuration: 'Let him be capitally punished who shall have bewitched the fruits of the earth, or by either kind of conjuration (_excantando neque incantando_) shall have conjured away his neighbour's corn into his own field,' &c., an enactment sneered at in Justinian's _Institutes_ in Seneca's words. A rude and ignorant antiquity, repeat the lawyers of Justinian, had believed that rain and storms might be attracted or repelled by means of spells or charms, the impossibility of which has no need to be explained by any school of philosophy. A hundred and fifty years later than the legislation of the decemvirs was passed the _Lex Cornelia_, usually cited as directed against sorcery: but while involving possibly the more shadowy crime, it seems to have been levelled against the more 'substantial poison.' The conviction and condemnation of 170 Roman ladies for poisoning, under pretence of incantation, was the occasion and cause. Sulla, when dictator, revived this act _de veneficiis et malis sacrificiis_, for breach of which the penalty was 'interdiction of fire and water.' Senatorial anathemas, or even those of the prince, were ineffective to check the continually increasing abuses, which towards the end of the first century of the empire had reached an alarming height.[21] [21] It will be observed that _veneficus and maleficus_ are the significant terms among the Italians for the criminals. A general degradation of morals is often accompanied, it has been justly remarked, by a corresponding increase of the wildest credulity, and by an abject subservience to external religious rites in propitiation of an incensed deity. It was thus at Rome when the eloquence of Cicero, and afterwards the indignant satire of Juvenal or the calm ridicule of the philosophic Lucian,[22] attempted to assert the 'proper authority of reason.' To speak the truth, says Cicero, superstition has spread like a torrent over the entire globe, oppressing the minds and intellects of almost all men and seizing upon the weakness of human nature.[23] The historian of 'The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' justifies and illustrates this lament of the philosopher of the Republic in the particular case of witchcraft. 'The nations and the sects of the Roman world admitted with equal credulity and similar abhorrence the reality of that infernal art which was able to control the eternal order of the planets, and the voluntary operations of the human mind. They dreaded the mysterious power of spells and incantations, of potent herbs and execrable rites, which could extinguish or recall life, influence the passions of the soul, blast the works of creation, and extort from the reluctant demons the secrets of Futurity. They believed with the wildest inconsistency that the preternatural dominion of the air, of earth, and of hell, was exercised from the vilest motives of malice or gain by some wrinkled hags or itinerant sorcerers who passed their obscure lives in penury and contempt. Such vain terrors disturbed the peace of society and the happiness of individuals; and the harmless flame which insensibly melted a waxen image might derive a powerful and pernicious energy from the affrighted fancy of the person whom it was maliciously designed to represent. From the infusion of those herbs which were supposed to possess a supernatural influence, it was an easy step to the case of more substantial poison; and the folly of mankind sometimes became the instrument and the mask of the most atrocious crimes.'[24] [22] If the philosophical arguments of Menippus (_Nekrikoi Dialogoi_) could have satisfied the interest of the priests or the ignorance of the people of after times, the _infernal_ fires of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries might not have burned. [23] _De Divinatione_, lib. ii. [24] _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, xxv. This description applies more to the Christian and later empires. Latin poetry of the Augustan and succeeding period abounds with illustrations, and the witches of Horace, Ovid, and Lucan are the famous classical types.[25] Propertius has characterised the Striga as 'daring enough to impose laws upon the moon bewitched by her spells;' while Petronius makes his witch, as potent as Strepsiades' Thessalian sorceress, exclaim that the very form of the moon herself is compelled to descend from her position in the universe at her command. For the various compositions and incantations in common use, it must be sufficient to refer to the pages of the Roman poets. The forms of incantation and horrid rites of the Horatian Sagana Canidia (_Epod._ v. and _Sat._ i. 8), or the scenes described by the pompous verses of the poet of the civil war (_De Bello Civili_, vi.), where all nature is subservient, are of a similar kind, but more familiar, in the dramatic writings of the Elizabethan age. The darker characteristics of the practice, however, are presented in the burning declamations of Juvenal, only too faithfully exhibiting the unnatural atrocities perpetrated in the form and under the disguise of love-potions and charms. Roman ladies in fact acquired considerable proficiency, worthy of a Borgia or Brinvilliers, in the art of poisoning and in the use of drugs. The reputed witch, both in ancient and modern times, very often belonged, like the Ovidian Dipsas, to the real and detestable class of panders: wrinkled hags were experienced in the arts of seduction, as well as in the employment of poison and drugs more familiar to the wealthier class (_Sat._ vi.). The great Satirist wrote in the latter half of the first century of Christianity; but even in the Augustan period such crimes were prevalent enough to make Ovid enumerate them among the universal evils introduced by the Iron age (_Metamorphoses_, i.). The despotic will of the princes themselves was exerted in vain; the mischief was too deep-rooted to succumb even to the decrees of the masters of the world. Nor did the _divi_ themselves disdain to be initiated in the infernal or celestial science. Nigidius Figulus and the two Thrasylli are magical or mathematical names closely connected with the destinies of the two first imperial princes. Nigidius predicted, and perhaps promoted, the future elevation of Octavianus; and the elder Thrasyllus, the famous Rhodian astrologer, skilfully identified his fate with the life of his credulous dupe but tyrannical pupil. Thrasyllus' art is stated to have been of service in preventing the superstitious tyrant from executing several intended victims of his hatred or caprice, by making _their_ safety the condition of _his_ existence. The historian of the early empire tells of the incantations which could 'affect the mind and increase the disease' of Germanicus, Tiberius' nephew. 'There were discovered,' says Tacitus, 'dug up from the ground and out of the walls of the house, the remains of human corpses, charms and spells, and the name of Germanicus inscribed on leaden tablets, ashes half consumed covered with decaying matter, and other practices by which it is believed that souls are devoted to the deities of hell.'[26] [25] 'The Canidia of Horace,' Gibbon pronounces, 'is a vulgar witch. The Erichtho of Lucan is tedious, disgusting, but sometimes sublime.' The love-charms of Canidia and Medea are chiefly indebted to the _Pharmakeutria_ of Theocritus. [26] _Annales_, ii. 69. Writing of the mathematicians and astrologers in the time of Galba, who urged the governor of Lusitania on the perilous path to the supreme dignity, the historian characterises them truly, in his inimitable language and style, as 'a class of persons not to be trusted by those in power, deceptive to the expectant; a class which will always be proscribed and preserved in our state.' In the fourth century, the first Christian emperor limited the lawful exercise of magic to the beneficial use of preserving or restoring the fruits of the earth or the health of the human body, while the practice of the noxious charms is capitally punished. The science of those, proclaims the imperial convert, who, immersed in the arts of magic, are detected either in attempts against the life and health of their fellow-men, or in _charming_ the minds of modest persons to the practice of debauchery, is to be avenged and punished deservedly by severest penalties. But in no sorts of criminal charges are those remedies to be involved which are employed for the good of individuals, or are harmlessly employed in remote places to prevent premature rains, in the case of vineyards, or the injurious effects of winds and hailstorms, by which the health and good name of no one can be injured; but whose practices are of laudable use in preventing both the gifts of the Deity and the labours of men from being scattered and destroyed.[27] [27] _Cod. Justinian_, lib. ix. tit. 18. Constantine, in distinguishing between good and bad magic, between the _theurgic_ and _goetic_, maintains a distinction made by the pagans--a distinction ignored in the later Christian Church, in whose system 'all demons are infernal spirits, and all commerce with them is idolatry and apostasy.' Christian zeal has accused the imperial philosopher and apostate Julian of having had recourse--not to much purpose--to many magical or necromantic rites; of cutting up the dead bodies of boys and virgins in the prescribed method; and of raising the dead to ascertain the event of his Eastern expedition against the Persians. Not many years after the death of Julian the Christian Empire witnessed a persecution for witchcraft that for its ferocity, if not for its folly, can be paralleled only by similar scenes in the fifteenth or seventeenth century. It began shortly after the final division of the East and West in the reigns of Valentinian and Valens, A.D. 373. The unfortunate accused were pursued with equal fury in the Eastern and Western Empires; and Rome and Antioch were the principal arenas on which the bloody tragedy was consummated. Gibbon informs us that it was occasioned by a criminal consultation, when the twenty-four letters of the alphabet were ranged round a magic tripod; a dancing ring placed in the centre pointed to the first four letters in the name of the future prince. 'The deadly and incoherent mixture of treason and magic, of poison and adultery, afforded infinite gradations of guilt and innocence, of excuse and aggravation, which in these proceedings appear to have been confounded by the angry or corrupt passions of the judges. They easily discovered that the degree of their industry and discernment was estimated by the imperial court according to the number of executions that were furnished from their respective tribunals. It was not without extreme reluctance that they pronounced a sentence of acquittal; but they eagerly admitted such evidence as was stained with perjury or procured by torture to prove the most improbable charges against the most respectable characters. The progress of the inquiry continually opened new subjects of criminal prosecution; the audacious informers whose falsehood was detected retired with impunity: but the wretched victim who discovered his real or pretended accomplices was seldom permitted to receive the price of his infamy. From the extremity of Italy and Asia the young and the aged were dragged in chains to the tribunals of Rome and Antioch. Senators, matrons, and philosophers expired in ignominious and cruel tortures. The soldiers who were appointed to guard the prisons declared, with a murmur of pity and indignation, that their numbers were insufficient to oppose the flight or resistance of the multitude of captives. The wealthiest families were ruined by fines and confiscations; the most innocent citizens trembled for their safety: and we may form some notion of the magnitude of the evil from the extravagant assertion of an ancient writer [Ammianus Marcellinus], that in the obnoxious provinces the prisoners, the exiles, and the fugitives formed the greatest part of the inhabitants. The philosopher Maximus,' it is added, 'with some justice was involved in the charge of magic; and young Chrysostom, who had accidentally found one of the proscribed books, gave himself up for lost.'[28] [28] _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, xxv. The similarity of this to the horrible catastrophe of Arras, recorded by the chroniclers of the fifteenth century, excepting the grosser absurdities of the latter, is almost perfect. Valentinian and Valens, who seem to have emulated the atrocious fame of the Cæsarean family, with their ministers, concealed, it is probable, under the disguise of a simulated credulity the real motives of revenge and cupidity. The Roman world, Christian and pagan, was subject to the prevailing fear. That portion of the globe, however, comprehended but a small part of the human race. The records of history are incomplete and imperfect; nor are they more confined in point of time than of extent. History is little more at any period than an imperfect account of the life of a few particular peoples. Necessarily limited almost entirely to an acquaintance with the history of that portion of the globe included in the 'Roman Empire,' we almost forget our profound ignorance of that vastly larger proportion of the earth's surface, the extra-Roman world, embracing then, as now, civilised as well as barbarous nations. The Chinese empire (the most extraordinary, perhaps, and whose antiquity far surpasses that of any known), comprehending within its limits two-thirds of the population of the globe; the refined and ingenious people of Hindustan, an immense population, in the East: in the Western hemisphere nations in existence whose remains excited the admiration of the Spanish invaders; the various savage tribes of the African continent; the nomad populations of Northern Asia and Europe; nearly all these more or less, on the testimony of past and present observation, experienced the tremendous fears of the vulgar demonism.[29] [29] It may be safely affirmed, according to a celebrated modern philosopher, that popular religions are really, in the conception of their more vulgar votaries, a species of demonism. 'Primus in orbe deos fecit timor,' or, in the fuller expression of a modern, 'Fear made the devils, and weak Hope the gods.' With the tribes who, in the time of Cæsar or Tacitus, inhabited the forests of Germany, and, perhaps, amongst the Scandinavians, some more elevated ideas obtained, the germ, however, of a degenerated popular prejudice. By all the German tribes, on the testimony of cotemporary writers, women were held in high respect, and were believed to have something even divine in their mental or spiritual faculties. 'Very many of their women they regard in the light of prophetesses, and when superstitious fear is in the ascendant, even of goddesses.' History has preserved the names of some of these Teutonic _deities_. Veleda, by prophetic inspiration, or by superior genius, directed the councils of her nation, and for some years successfully resisted the progress of the imperial arms.[30] Momentous questions of state or religion were submitted to their _divine_ judgment, and it is not wonderful if, endowed with supernatural attributes, they, like other prophets, helped to fulfil their own predictions. The Britons and Gauls, of the Keltic race, seem to have resembled the Orientals, rather than the Teutons or Italians, in their religious systems. Long before the Romans came in contact with them the magic science is said to have been developed, and the priests, like those of India or Egypt, communicated the mysteries only to a privileged few, with circumstances of profound secrecy. Such was the excellence of the magic science of the British Druids, that Pliny (_Hist. Nat._ xxx.) was induced to suppose that the Magi of Persia must have derived their system from Britain. For the most part the Kelts then, as in the present day, were peculiarly tenacious of a creed which it was the interest of a priestly caste to preserve. On the other hand, the looser religion of the Teuton nations, of the Scandinavians and Germans, could not find much difficulty in accepting the particular conceptions of the Southern conquerors; and the sorceric mythology of the Northern barbarians readily recognised the power of an Erichtho to control the operations of nature, to prevent or confound the course of the elements, interrupt the influence of the sun, avert or induce tempests, to affect the passions of the soul, to fascinate or charm a cruel mistress, &c., with all the usual necromantic rites. But if they could acknowledge the characteristics of the Italian Striga, those nations at the same time retained a proper respect for the venerated Saga--the German Hexe. [30] Aurinia was the Latin name of another of these venerable sagæ. Tacitus, _Histor._ iv. 61, and _Germania_, viii. Of all the historic peoples of ancient Europe, the Scandinavians were perhaps most imbued with a persuasion of the efficacy of magic; a fact which their home and their habits sufficiently explain. In the Eddas, Odin, the leader of the immigration in the first century, and the great national lawgiver, is represented as well versed in the knowledge of that preternatural art; and the heroes of the Scandinavian legends of the tenth or twelfth century are especially ambitious of initiation. The Scalds, like the Brahmins or Druids, were possessed of tremendous secrets; their _runic_ characters were all powerful charms, whether against enemies, the injurious effects of an evil eye, or to soften the resentment of a lover.[31] The Northmen, with the exception of some nations of Central Europe, like the Lithuanians, who were not christianised until the thirteenth or fourteenth century, from their roving habits as well perhaps as from their remoteness, were among the last peoples of Europe to abandon their old creed. Urged by poverty and the hopes of plunder, the pirates of the Baltic long continued to be the terror of the European coasts; but, without a political status, they were the common outlaws of Christendom. They were the relics of a savage life now giving way in Europe to the somewhat more civilised forms of society, continuing their indiscriminate depredations with impunity only because of the want of union and organisation among their neighbours. But they were in a transitional state: the coasts and countries they had formerly been content to ravage, they were beginning to find it their interest to colonise and cultivate. In the new interests and pursuits of civilisation and commerce, a natural disgust might have been experienced for the savage traditions of a religion whose gods and heroes were mostly personifications of war and rapine, under whose banners they had suffered the hardships, if they had enjoyed the plunder, of a piratic life. The national deities from being disregarded, must have come soon to be treated with undisguised contempt at least by the leaders: while the common people, serfs, or slaves were still immersed (as much as in Christian Europe) in a stupid superstition. [31] The following story exhibits the influence of witchcraft among the followers of Odin. Towards the end of the tenth century, the dreaded Jomsburg sea-rovers had set out on one of their periodical expeditions, and were devastating with fire and sword the coast of Norway. A celebrated Norwegian Jarl, Hakon, collected all his forces, and sailed with a fleet of 150 vessels to encounter the pirates. Hakon, after trying in vain to break through the hostile line, retired with his fleet to the coast, and proceeded to consult a well-known sorceress in whom he had implicit confidence for any emergency. With some pretended reluctance the sorceress at length informed him that the victory could be obtained only by the sacrifice of his son. Hakon hesitated not to offer up his only son as a propitiatory sacrifice; after which, returning to his fleet, and his accustomed post in the front ranks of the battle, he renewed the engagement. Towards evening the Jomsburg pirates were overtaken and overwhelmed by a violent storm, destroying or damaging their ships. They were convinced that they saw the witch herself seated on the prow of the Jarl's ships with clouds of missile weapons flying from the tips of her fingers, each arrow carrying a death-wound. With such of his followers as had escaped the sorceric encounter, the pirate-chief made the best of his way from the scene of destruction, declaring he had made a vow indeed to fight against men, but not against witches. A narrative not inconsistent with the reply of a warrior to an inquiry from the Saint-king Olaf, 'I am neither Christian nor pagan; my companions and I have no other religion than a just confidence in our strength, and in the good success which always attends us in war; and we are of opinion that it is all that is necessary.'--Mallet's _Northern Antiquities_. When men's minds are thus universally unsettled and in want--a want both universal and necessary in states--of some new divine objects of worship more suited to advanced ideas and requirements, a system of religion more civilising and rational than the antiquated one, will be adopted without much difficulty, especially if it is not too exclusive. Yet the Scandinavians were unusually tenacious of the forms of their ancestral worship; for while the Icelanders are said to have received Christianity about the beginning of the eleventh century, the people of Norway were not wholly converted until somewhat later. The halls of Valhalla must have been relinquished with a sigh in exchange for the less intelligible joys of a tranquil and insensuous paradise. An ancient Norsk law enjoins that the king and bishop, with all possible care, make inquiry after those who exercise pagan practices, employ magic arts, adore the genii of particular places, of tombs or rivers, who transport themselves by a diabolical mode of travelling through the air from place to place. In the extremity of the northern peninsula (amongst the Laplanders), where the light of science, or indeed of civilisation, has scarcely yet penetrated, witchcraft remains as flourishing as in the days of Odin; and the Laplanders at present are possibly as credulous in this respect as the old Northmen or the present tribes of Africa and the South Pacific. Before the introduction of the new religion (it is a curious fact), the Germans and Scandinavians, as well as the Jews, were acquainted with the efficacy of the rite of infant baptism. A Norsk chronicle of the twelfth century, speaking of a Norwegian nobleman who lived in the reign of Harald Harfraga, relates that he poured water on the head of his new-born son, and called him Hakon, after the name of his father. Harald himself had been baptized in the same way; and it is noted of the infant pagan St. Olaf that his mother had him baptized as soon as he was born. The Livonians observed the same ceremony; and a letter sent expressly by Pope Gregory III. to St. Boniface, the great apostle of the Germans, directs him how to act in such cases. It is probable, Mallet conjectures, that all these people might intend by such a rite to preserve their children from the sorceries and evil charms which wicked spirits might employ against them at the instant of their birth. Several nations of Asia and America have attributed such a power to ablutions of this kind; nor were the Romans without the custom, though they did not wholly confine it to new-born infants. A curious magical use of an initiatory and sacramental rite, ignorantly anticipated, it seems, by the unilluminated faith of the pagan world. In reviewing the characteristics of sorcery which prevailed in the ancient world, it is obvious to compare the superstition as it existed in the nations of the East and West, of antiquity and of modern times. These natural or accidental differences are deducible apparently from the following causes:--(1) The essential distinction between the demonology of Orientalism--of Brahminism, Buddhism, Magianism, Judaism, Mohammedanism--and that of the West, of paganism and of Christianity, founded on their respective _idealistic_ and _realistic_ tendencies. (2) The divining or necromantic faculties have been generally regarded in the East as honourable properties; whereas in the West they have been degraded into the criminal follies of an infernal compact. The magical art is a noble cultivated science--a prerogative of the priestly caste: witchcraft, in its strict sense, was mostly abandoned to the lowest, and, as a rule, to the oldest and ugliest of the female sex. In the one case the proficient was the master, in the other the slave, of the demons. (3) The position of the female sex in the Western world has been always very opposite to their status in the East, where women are believed to be an inferior order of beings, and therefore incapable of an art reserved for the superior endowments of the male sex. The modern witchcraft may be traced to that perhaps oldest form of religious conception, Fetishism, which still prevails in its utmost horrors amongst the savage peoples in different parts of the world. The early practice of magic was not dishonourable in its origin, closely connected as it was with the study of natural science--with astronomy and chymistry. The magic system--interesting to us as having influenced the later Jewish creed and mediately the Christian--referred like most developed creeds to a particular founder, Zerdusht (Zarathustra of the Zend), may have thus originated. Mankind, in seeking a solution for that most interesting but unsatisfactory problem, the cause of the predominance of evil on the earth, were obliged by their ignorance and their fears to imagine, in addition to the idea of a single supreme existence, the author and source of good, antagonistic influence--the source and representative of evil. Physical phenomena of every day experience; the alternations of light and darkness, of sunshine and clouds; the changes and oppositions in the outer world, would readily supply an analogy to the moral world. Thus the dawn and the sun, darkness and storms, in the wondering mind of the earlier inhabitants of the globe, may have soon assumed the substantial forms of personal and contending deities.[32] Such seems to be the origin of the personifications in the Vedic hymns of Indra and Vritra with their subordinate ministers (the Ormuzd and Ahriman, &c., of the Zend-Avesta), and of the first religious conceptions of other peoples. After this attempt to reconcile the contradictions, the irregularities of nature, by establishing a duality of gods whose respective provinces are the happiness and unhappiness of the human race, the step was easy to the conviction of the superior activity of a malignant god. The benevolent but epicurean security of the first deity might seem to have little concern in defeating or preventing the malicious schemes of the other. All the infernal apparatus of later ages was easy to be supplied by a delusive and an unreasoning imagination. [32] The despotism of language and its immense influence on the destiny, as well as on the various opinions, of mankind, is well shown by Professor Max Müller. 'From one point of view,' he declares, 'the true history of religion would be neither more nor less than an account of the various attempts at expressing the Inexpressible' (_Lectures on the Science of Language_, Second Series). The witch-creed may be indirectly referred, like many other absurdities, to the perversion of language. PART II. MEDIÆVAL FAITH. CHAPTER I. Compromise between the New and the Old Faiths--Witchcraft under the Early Church--The Sentiments of the Fathers and the Decrees of Councils--Platonic Influences--Historical, Physiological, and Accidental Causes of the Attribution of Witchcraft to the Female Sex--Opinions of the Fathers and other Writers--The Witch-Compact. It might appear, in a casual or careless observation, surprising that Christianity, whose original spirit, if not universal practice, was to enlighten; whose professed mission was 'to destroy the works of the devil,' failed to disprove as well as to dispel some of the most pernicious beliefs of the pagan world: that its final triumph within the limits of the Roman empire, or as far as it extended without, was not attended by the extinction of at least the most revolting practices of superstition. Experience, and a more extended view of the progress of human ideas, will teach that the growth of religious perception is fitful and gradual: that the education of collective mankind proceeds in the same way as that of the individual man. And thus, in the expression of the biographer of Charles V., the barbarous nations when converted to Christianity changed the object, not the spirit, of their religious worship. Many of the ideas of the old religion were consciously tolerated by the first propagators of Christianity, who justly deemed that the new dogmas would be more readily insinuated into the rude and simple minds of their neophytes, if not too strictly uncompromising. Both past and present facts testify to this compromise. It was a maxim with some of the early promoters of the Christian cause, to do as little violence as possible to existing prejudices[33]--a judicious method still pursued by the Catholic, though condemned by the Protestant, missionaries of the present day.[34] It was not seldom that an entire nation was converted and christianised by baptism almost in a single day: the mass of the people accepting, or rather acquiescing in, the arguments of the missionaries in submission to the will or example of their prince, whose conduct they followed as they would have followed him into the field. Such was the case at the conversion of the Frankish chief Clovis, and of the Saxon Ethelbert. But if St. Augustin or St. Boniface, and the earlier missionaries, had more success in persuading the simple faith of the Germans, without a written revelation and miracles, than the modern emissaries have in inducing the Hindus to abandon their Vedas, it was easier to convince them of the facts, than of the reason, of their faith. Nor was it to be expected that such raw recruits (if the expression may be allowed) should lay aside altogether prejudices with which they were imbued from infancy. [33] The remark of a late Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge. 'The heathen temples,' says Professor Blunt, 'became Christian churches; the altars of the gods altars of the saints; the curtains, incense, tapers, and votive-tablets remained the same; the _aquaminarium_ was still the vessel for holy water; St. Peter stood at the gate instead of Cardea; St. Rocque or St. Sebastian in the bedroom instead of the Phrygian Penates; St. Nicholas was the sign of the vessel instead of Castor and Pollux; the Mater Deûm became the Madonna; alms pro Matre Deûm became alms for the Madonna; the festival of the Mater Deûm the festival of the Madonna, or _Lady Day_; the Hostia or victim was now the Host; the "Lugentes Campi," or dismal regions, Purgatory; the offerings to the Manes were masses for the dead.' The parallel, he ventures to assert, might be drawn out to a far greater extent, &c. [34] Conformably to this plan, the first proselytisers in Germany and the North were often reduced (we are told) to substituting the name of Christ and the saints for those of Odin and the gods in the toasts drunk at their bacchanalian festivals. The extent of the credit and practice of witchcraft under the Church triumphant is evident from the numerous decrees and anathemas of the Church in council, which, while oftener treating it as a dread reality, has sometimes ventured to contemn or to affect to contemn it as imposture and delusion. Both the civil and ecclesiastical laws were exceptionally severe towards _goetic_ practices. 'In all those laws of the Christian emperors,' says Bingham, 'which granted indulgences to criminals at the Easter festival, the _venefici_ and the _malefici_, that is, magical practices against the lives of men, are always excepted as guilty of too heinous a crime to be comprised within the general pardon granted to other offenders.'[35] In earlier ecclesiastical history, successive councils or synods are much concerned in fulminating against them. The council of Ancyra (314) prohibits the art under the name of pharmacy: a few years' penance being appointed for anyone receiving a magician into his house. St. Basil's canons, more severe, appoint thirty years as the necessary atonement. Divination by lots or by consulting their sacred scriptures, just as afterwards they consulted Virgil, seems to have been a very favourite mode of discovering the future. The clergy encouraged and traded upon this kind of divination: in the Gallican church it was notorious. 'Some reckon,' the pious author of the 'Antiquities of the Christian Church' informs us, 'St. Augustin's conversion owing to such a sort of consultation; but the thought is a great mistake, and very injurious to him, for his conversion was owing to a providential call, like that of St. Paul, from heaven.' And that eminent saint's confessions are quoted to prove that his conversion from the depths of vice and licentiousness to the austere sobriety of his new faith, was indebted to a legitimate use of the scriptures. St. Chrysostom upbraids his cotemporaries for exposing the faith, by their illegitimate inquiries, to the scorn of the heathen, many of whom where wiser than to hearken to any such fond impostures. [35] Bingham's _Origines Ecclesiasticæ_, xvi. St. Augustin complains that Satan's instruments, professing the exercise of these arts, were used to 'set the name of Christ before their ligatures, and enchantments, and other devices, to seduce Christians to take the venomous bait under the covert of a sweet and honey potion, that the bitter might be hid under the sweet, and make men drink it without discerning to their destruction.' The heretics of the primitive, as well as of the middle, ages were accused of working miracles, and propagating their accursed doctrines by magical or infernal art. Tertullian, and after him Eusebius, denounce the arch-heretic Simon Magus for performing his spurious miracles in that way: and Irenæus had declared of the heretic Marcus, that when he would consecrate the eucharist in a cup of wine and water, by one of his juggling tricks, he made it appear of a purple and red colour, as if by a long prayer of invocation, that it might be thought the grace from above distilled the blood into the cup by his invocation. A correspondent of Cyprian, the celebrated African bishop, describes a woman who pretended 'to be inspired by the Holy Ghost, but was really acted on by a diabolical spirit, by which she counterfeited ecstasies, and pretended to prophesy, and wrought many wonderful and strange things, and boasted she would cause the earth to move. Not that the devil [he is cautious to affirm] has so great a power either to move the earth or shake the elements by his command; but the wicked spirit, foreseeing and understanding that there will be an earthquake, pretends to do that which he foresees will shortly come to pass. And by these lies and boastings, the devil subdued the minds of many to obey and follow him whithersoever he would lead them. And he made that woman walk barefoot through the snow in the depth of winter, and feel no trouble nor harm by running about in that fashion. But at last, after having played many such pranks, one of the exorcists of the Church discovered her to be a cheat, and showed that to be a wicked spirit which before was thought to be the Holy Ghost.'[36] [36] _Origines Ecclesiasticæ_, xvi. The exorcists were a recognised and respectable order in the Church. See id. iii. for an account of the _Energumenoi_ or demoniacs. The lawyer Ulpian, in the time of Tertullian, mentions the Order of Exorcists as well known. St. Augustin (_De Civit. Dei_, xxii. 8) records some extraordinary cures on his own testimony within his diocess of Hippo. Christian witchcraft was of a more tremendous nature than even that of older times, both in its origin and practice. The devils of Christianity were the metamorphosed deities of the old religions. The Christian convert was convinced, and the Fathers of the Church gravely insisted upon the fact, that the oracles of Delphi or Dodona had been inspired in the times of ignorance and idolatry by the great Enemy, who used the priest or priestess as the means of accomplishing his eternal schemes of malice and mischief. At the instant, however (so it was confidently affirmed), of the divine incarnation the oracular temples were closed for ever; and the demons were no longer permitted to delude mankind by impersonating pagan deities. They must now find some other means of effecting their fixed purpose. It was not far to seek. There were human beings who, by a preeminently wicked disposition, or in hope of some temporary profit, were prepared to risk their future prospects, willing to devote both soul and body to the service of hell. The 'Fathers' and great expounders of Christianity, by their sentiments, their writings, and their claims to the miraculous powers of exorcising, greatly assisted to advance the common opinions. Justin Martyr, Origen, Tertullian, Jerome, were convinced that they were in perpetual conflict with the disappointed demons of the old world, who had inspired the oracles and usurped the worship of the true God. Nor was the contest always merely spiritual: they engaged personally and corporeally. St. Jerome, like St. Dunstan in the tenth, or Luther in the sixteenth century, had to fight with an incarnate demon. Exorcism--the magical or miraculous ejection of evil spirits by a solemn form of adjuration--was a universal mode of asserting the superior authority of the orthodox Church against the spurious pretensions of heretics.[37] [37] The art of expelling demons, indeed, has been preserved in the Protestant section of the Christian Church until a recent age. The _exorcising_ power, it is remarkable, is the sole claim to miraculous privilege of the Protestants. The formula _de Strumosis Attrectandis_, or the form of touching for the king's evil (a similar claim), was one of the recognised offices of the English Established Church in the time of Queen Anne, or of George I. Christian theology in the first age even was considerably indebted to the Platonic doctrines as taught in the Alexandrian school; and demonology in the third century received considerable accessions from the speculations of Neo-Platonism, the reconciling medium between Greek and Oriental philosophy. Philo-Judæus (whose reconciling theories, displayed in his attempt to prove the derivation of Greek religious or philosophical ideas from those of Moses, have been ingeniously imitated by a crowd of modern followers) had been the first to undertake to adapt the Jewish theology to Greek philosophy. Plotinus and Porphyrius, the founders of the new school of Platonism, introduced a large number of angels or demons to the acquaintance of their Christian fellow-subjects in the third century.[38] It has been remarked that 'such was the mild spirit of antiquity that the nations were less attentive to the difference than to the resemblance of their religious worship. The Greek, the Roman, and the barbarian, as they met before their respective altars, easily persuaded themselves that, under various names and with various ceremonies, they adored the same deities.'[39] Magianism and Judaism, however, were little imbued with the spirit of toleration; and the purer the form of religious worship, the fiercer, too often, seems to be the persecution of differing creeds. Christianity, with something of the spirit of Judaism from which it sprung, was forced to believe that the older religions must have sprung from a diabolic origin. The whole pagan world was inspired and dominated by wicked spirits. 'The pagans _deified_, the Christians _diabolised_, Nature.'[40] It is in this fact that the entirely opposite spirit of antique and mediæval thought, evident in the life, literature, in the common ideas of ancient and mediæval Europe, is discoverable. [38] 'The knowledge that is suited to our situation and powers, the whole compass of moral, natural, and mathematical science, was neglected by the new Platonists; whilst they exhausted their strength in the verbal disputes of metaphysics, they attempted to explore the secrets of the invisible world, and studied to reconcile Aristotle with Plato on subjects of which both these philosophers were as ignorant as the rest of mankind. Consuming their reason in those deep but unsubstantial meditations, their minds were exposed to illusions of fancy. They flattered themselves that they possessed the secret of disengaging the soul from its corporeal prison; claimed a familiar intercourse with demons and spirits; and by a very singular revolution, converted the study of philosophy into that of magic.'--_The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, chap. xiii. [39] The Egyptians, almost the only exception to polytheistic tolerance, seem to have been rendered intolerant by the number of antagonistic animal-gods worshipped in different parts of the country, enumerated by Juvenal, who describes the effects of religious animosity displayed in a faction fight between Ombi or Coptos and Tentyra.--_Sat._ xv. [40] _Life of Goethe_, by G. H. Lewes. The female sex has been always most concerned in the crime of Christian witchcraft. What was the cause of this general addiction, in the popular belief, of that sex, it is interesting to inquire. In the East now, and in Greece of the age of Simonides or Euripides, or at least in the Ionic States, women are an inferior order of beings, not only on account of their weaker natural faculties and social position, but also in respect of their natural inclination to every sort of wickedness. And if they did not act the part of a Christian witch, they were skilled in the practice of toxicology. With the Latin race and many European peoples, the female sex held a better position; and it may appear inconsistent that in Christendom, where the Goddess-Mother was almost the highest object of veneration, woman should be degraded into a slave of Satan. By the northern nations they were supposed to be gifted with supernatural power; and the universal powers of the Italian hag have been already noticed. But the Church, which allowed no miracle to be legitimate out of the pale, and yet could not deny the fact of the miraculous without, was obliged to assert it to be of diabolic origin. Thus the _priestess_ of antiquity became a _witch_. This is the historical account. Physically, the cause seems discoverable in the fact that the natural constitution of women renders their _imaginative_ organs more excitable for the ecstatic conditions of the prophetic or necromantic arts. On all occasions of religious or other cerebral excitement, women (it is a matter of experience) are generally most easily reduced to the requisite state for the expected supernatural visitation. Their hysterical (_hystera_) natures are sufficiently indicative of the origin of such hallucinations. Their magical or pharmaceutical attributes might be derived from savage life, where the men are almost exclusively occupied either in war or in the chase: everything unconnected with these active or necessary pursuits is despised as unbecoming the superior nature of the male sex. To the female portion of the community are abandoned domestic employments, preparation of food, the selection and mixture of medicinal herbs, and all the mysteries of the medical art. How important occupations like these, by ignorance and interest, might be raised into something more than natural skill, is easy to be conjectured. That so extraordinary an attribute would often be abused is agreeable to experience.[41] [41] Quintilian declared, '_Latrocinium_ facilius in viro, _veneficium_ in feminâ credam.' To the same effect is an observation of Pliny: 'Scientiam feminarum in _veneficiis_ prævalere.' According to the earlier Christian writers, the frailer sex is addicted to infernal practices by reason of their innate wickedness: and in the opinion of the 'old Fathers' they are fitted by a corrupt disposition to be the recipients and agents of the devil's will upon earth. The authors of the _Witch-Hammer_ have supported their assertions of the proneness of women to evil in general, and to sorcery in particular, by the respectable names and authority of St. Chrysostom, Augustin, Dionysius Areopagiticus, Hilary, &c. &c.[42] The Golden-mouthed is adduced as especially hostile in his judgment of the sex; and his 'Homily on Herodias' takes its proper place with the satires of Aristophanes and Juvenal, of Boccaccio and Boileau.[43] [42] 'They style a wife The dear-bought curse and lawful plague of life, A bosom-serpent and a domestic evil.' [43] The royal author of the _Demonologie_ finds no difficulty in accounting for the vastly larger proportion of the female sex devoted to the devil's service. 'The reason is easy,' he declares; 'for as that sex is frailer than man is, so is it easier to be entrapped in the gross snares of the devil, as was over-well proved to be true by the serpent's deceiving of Eva at the beginning, which makes him the homelier with that sex sensine:' and it is profoundly observed that witches cannot even shed tears, though women in general are, like the crocodile, ready to weep on every light occasion. Reginald Scot gives the reasons alleged by the apologists of witchcraft. 'This gift and natural influence of fascination may be increased in man according to his affections and perturbations, as through anger, fear, love, hate, &c. For by hate, saith Varius, entereth a fiery inflammation into the eye of man, which being violently sent out by beams and streams infect and bewitch those bodies against whom they are opposed. And therefore (he saith) that is the cause that women are oftener found to be witches than men. For they have such an unbridled force of fury and concupiscence naturally, that by no means is it possible for them to temper or moderate the same. So as upon every trifling occasion they, like unto the beasts, fix their furious eyes upon the party whom they bewitch.... Women also (saith he) are oftenlie filled full of superfluous humours, and with them the melancholike blood boileth, whereof spring vapours, and are carried up and conveyed through the nostrils and mouth, to the bewitching of whatsoever it meeteth. For they belch up a certain breath wherewith they bewitch whomsoever they list. And of all other women lean, hollow-eyed, old, beetle-browed women (saith he) are the most infectious.'[44] Why _old_ women are selected as the most proper means of doing the devil's will may be discovered in their peculiar characteristics. The repulsive features, moroseness, avarice, malice, garrulity of his hags are said to be appropriate instruments. Scot informs us, 'One sort of such as are said to be witches are women which be commonly old, lame, blear-eyed, pale, foul, and full of wrinkles, poor, sullen, superstitious, and _papists_, or such as know no religion, in whose drowsy minds the devil hath got a fine seat. They are lean and deformed, showing melancholy in their faces, to the horror of all that see them. They are doting, scolds, mad, devilish ... neither obtaining for their service and pains, nor yet by their art, nor yet at the devil's hands, with whom they are said to make a perfect visible bargain, either beauty, money, promotion, wealth, worship, pleasure, honour, knowledge, or any other benefit whatsoever.' As to the preternatural gifts of these hags, he sensibly argues: 'Alas! what an unapt instrument is a toothless, old, impotent, unwieldy woman to fly in the air; truly, the devil little needs such instruments to bring his purposes to pass.'[45] [44] _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, book xii. 21.--We shall have occasion hereafter to notice this great opponent of the devil's regime in the sixteenth century. We may be inclined to consider a more probable reason--that spirits, being in the general belief (so Adam infers that God had 'peopled highest heaven with spirits masculine') of the masculine gender, the recipients of their inspiration are naturally of the other sex: evil spirits could propagate their human or half-human agents with least suspicion and in the most natural way. [45] _Discoverie_, i. 3, 6.--Old women, however, may be negatively useful. One of the writers on the subject (John Nider) recommends them to young men since '_Vetularum aspectus et colloquia amorem excutiunt_.' Dr. Glanvil, who wrote in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and is bitterly opposed to the 'Witch-Advocate' and his followers, defends the capabilities of hags and the like for serving the demons. He conjectures, 'Peradventure 'tis one of the great designs, as 'tis certainly the interest, of those wicked agents and machinators industriously to hide from us their influences and ways of acting, and to work as near as 'tis possible _incognito_; upon which supposal it is easy to conceive a reason why they most commonly work by and upon the weak and the ignorant, who can make no cunning observations or tell credible tales to detect their artifice.'[46] The act of bewitching is defined to be 'a supernatural work contrived between a corporal old woman and a spiritual devil' ('Discoverie,' vi. 2). The method of initiation is, according to a writer on the subject, as follows: A decrepit, superannuated, old woman is tempted by a man in black to sign a contract to become his, both soul and body. On the conclusion of the agreement (about which there was much cheating and haggling), he gives her a piece of money, and causes her to write her name and make her mark on a slip of parchment with her own blood. Sometimes on this occasion also the witch uses the ceremony of putting one hand to the sole of her foot and the other to the crown of her head. On departing he delivers to her an imp or familiar. The familiar, in shape of a cat, a mole, miller-fly, or some other insect or animal, at stated times of the day sucks her blood through teats in different parts of her body.[47] If, however, the proper vulgar witch is an old woman, the younger and fairer of the sex were not by any means exempt from the crime. Young and beautiful women, children of tender years, have been committed to the rack and to the stake on the same accusation which condemned the old and the ugly. [46] _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, part i. sect. 8. [47] _Grose's Antiquities_, in Brand's _Popular Antiquities of Great Britain_. CHAPTER II. Charlemagne's Severity--Anglo-Saxon Superstition--Norman and Arabic Magic--Influence of Arabic Science--Mohammedan Belief in Magic--Rabbinical Learning--Roger Bacon--The Persecution of the Templars--Alice Kyteler. Tremendous as was the power of the witch in earlier Christendom, it was not yet degraded into the thoroughly diabolistic character of her more recent successors. Diabolism advanced in the same proportion with the authority of the Church and the ignorant submission of the people. In the civil law, the Emperor Leo, in the sixth century, abrogated the Constantinian edict as too indulgent or too credulous: from that time all sorts of charms, all use of them, beneficial or injurious, were declared worthy of punishment. The different states of Europe, founded on the ruins of the Western Empire, more or less were engaged in providing against the evil consequences of sorcery. Charlemagne pursued the criminals with great severity. He 'had several times given orders that all necromancers, astrologers, and witches should be driven from his states; but as the number of criminals augmented daily, he found it necessary at last to resort to severer measures. In consequence, he published several edicts, which may be found at length in the "Capitulaire de Baluse." By these every sort of magic, enchantment, and witchcraft was forbidden, and the punishment of death decreed against those who in any way evoked the devil, compounded love-philters, afflicted either man or woman with barrenness, troubled the atmosphere, excited tempests, destroyed the fruits of the earth, dried up the milk of cows, or tormented their fellow-creatures with sores and diseases. All persons found guilty of exercising these execrable arts were to be executed immediately upon conviction, that the earth might be rid of the curse and burden of their presence; and those who consulted them might also be punished with death.'[48] [48] M. Garinet's _Histoire de la Magic en France_, quoted in _Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions_. The Saxons, in the fifth century, imported into Britain the pagan forms of the Fatherland; and the Anglo-Saxon (Christian) laws are usually directed against practices connected with heathen worship, of which many reminiscences were long preserved. Their Hexe, or witch,[49] appears to be half-divine, half-diabolic, a witch-priestess who derived her inspiration as much from heavenly as from hellish sources; from some divinity or genius presiding at a sacred grove or fountain. King Athelstan is said to have made a law against witchcraft and similar acts which inflict death; that if one by them be made away, and the thing cannot be denied, such practicers shall be put to death; but if they endeavour to purge themselves, and be cast by the threefold ordeal, they shall be in prison 120 days; which ended, their kindred may redeem them by the payment [in the universal style of the English penalties] of 120 shillings to the king, and further pay to the kindred of the slain the full valuation of the party's head; and then the criminals shall also procure sureties for good behaviour for the time to come; and the Danish prince Knut denounces by an express doom the noxious acts of sorcery.[50] Some of the witches who appear under Saxon domination are almost as ferocious as those of the time of Bodin or of James; cutting up the bodies of the dead, especially of children, devouring their heart and liver in midnight revels. Fearful are the deeds of Saxon sorcery as related by the old Norman or Anglo-Norman writers. Roger of Wendover ('Flowers of History') records the terrible fate of a hag who lived in the village of Berkely, in the ninth century. The devil at the appointed hour (as in the case of Faust) punctually carries off the soul of his slave, in spite of the utmost watch and ward. These scenes are, perhaps, rather Norman than Saxon. It was a favourite belief of the ancients and mediævalists that the inhospitable regions of the remoter North were the abode of demons who held in those suitable localities their infernal revels, exciting storms and tempests: and the monk-chronicler Bede relates the northern parts of Britain were thus infested.[51] [49] The Saxon 'witch' is derived, apparently, from the verb 'to weet,' to know, _be wise_. The Latin 'saga' is similarly derived--'Sagire, sentire acute est: ex quo _sagæ_ anus, quia malta _scire_ volunt.'--Cicero, _de Divinatione_. [50] A curious collection of old English superstitions in these and their allied forms, as exhibited in various documents, appears in a recent work of authority, entitled 'Leechdoms, Wort-Cunning, and Starcraft of Early England. Published by the authority of the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty's Treasury, under the direction of the Master of the Rolls.' Diseases of all sorts are for the most part inflicted upon mankind by evil demons, through the agency of spells and incantations. [51] Strutt derives the 'long-continued custom of swimming people suspected of witchcraft' from the Anglo-Saxon mode of judicial trial--the ordeal by water. Another 'method of proving a witch,' by weighing against the Church Bible (a formidable balance), is traced to some of their ancient customs. James VI. (_Demonologie_) is convinced that 'God hath appointed, for a supernatural sign of the monstrous impiety of witches, that the water shall refuse to receive them in her bosom that have shaken off them the sacred water of baptism and wilfully refused the benefit thereof.' From Scandinavia the Normans must have brought a conviction of the truths of magic; and although they had been long settled, before the conquest of England, in Northern France and in Christianity, the traditional glories of the land from which were derived their name and renown could not be easily forgotten. Not long after the Conquest the Arabic learning of Spain made its way into this country, and it is possible that Christian magic, as well as science, may have been influenced by it. Magic, scientifically treated, flourished in Arabic Spain, being extensively cultivated, in connection with more real or practical learning, by the polite and scientific Arabs. The schools of Salamanca, Toledo, and other Saracenic cities were famous throughout Europe for eminence in medicine, chymistry, astronomy, and mathematics. Thither resorted the learned of the North to perfect themselves in the then cultivated branches of knowledge. The vast amount of scientific literature of the Moslems of Spain, evidenced in their public libraries, relieves Southern Europe, in part at least, from the stigma of a universal barbaric illiteracy.[52] Several volumes of Arabian philosophy are said to have been introduced to Northern Europe in the twelfth century; and it was in the school of Toledo that Gerbert--a conspicuous name in the annals of magic--acquired his preternatural knowledge. [52] The royal library of the Fatimites consisted of 100,000 manuscripts, elegantly transcribed and splendidly bound, which were lent, without avarice or jealousy, to the students of Cairo. Yet this collection must appear moderate if we believe that the Ommiades of Spain had formed a library of 600,000 volumes, 44 of which were employed in the mere catalogue. Their capital, Cordova, with the adjacent towns of Malaga, Almeira, and Murcia, had given birth to more than 300 writers; and above 70 public libraries were opened in the cities of the Andalusian kingdom.--_Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, lii. The few in any way acquainted with Greek literature were indebted to the Latin translations of the Arabs; while the Jewish rabbinical learning, whose more useful lore was encumbered with much mystical nonsense, enjoyed considerable reputation at this period. The most distinguished of the rabbis taught in the schools in London, York, Lincoln, Oxford, and Cambridge; and Christendom has to confess its obligations for its first acquaintance with science to the enemies of the Cross.[53] The later Jewish authorities had largely developed the demonology of the subjects of Persia; and the spiritual or demoniacal creations of the rabbinical works of the Middle Ages might be readily acceptable, if not coincident, to Christian faith. But the Western Europeans, before the philosophy of the Spanish Arabs was known, had come in contact with the Saracens and Turks of the East during frequent pilgrimages to the tomb of Christ; and the fanatical crusades of the eleventh and twelfth centuries facilitated and secured the hazardous journey. Mohammedans of the present day preserve the implicit faith of their ancestors in the efficacy of the 113th chapter of the Koran against evil spirits, the spells of witches and sorcerers--a chapter said to have been revealed to the Prophet of Islam on the occasion of his having been bewitched by the daughters of a Jew. The Genii or Ginn--a Preadamite race occupying an intermediate position between angels and men, who assume at pleasure the form of men, of the lower animals, or any monstrous shape, and propagate their species like, and sometimes with, human kind--appear in imposing proportions in 'The Thousand and One Nights'--that rich display of the fancy of the Oriental imagination.[54] Credulous and confused in critical perception, the crusading adventurers for religion or rapine could scarcely fail to confound with their own the peculiar tenets of an ill-understood mode of thought; and that the critical and discriminating faculties of the champions of the Cross were not of the highest order, is illustrated by their difficulty in distinguishing the eminently unitarian religion of Mohammed from paganism. By a strange perversion the Anglo-Norman and French chroniclers term the Moslems _Pagans_, while the Saxon heathen are dignified by the title of _Saracens_; and the names of Mahmoud, Termagaunt, Apollo, could be confounded without any sense of impropriety. However, or in whatever degree, Saracenic or rabbinical superstition tended to influence Christian demonology, from about the end of the thirteenth century a considerable development in the mythology of witchcraft is perceptible.[55] [53] Chymistry and Algebra still attest our obligation by their Arabic etymology. [54] A common tradition is that Soliman, king of the Jews, having finally subdued--a success which he owed chiefly to his vast magical resources--the rebellious spirits, punished their disobedience by incarcerating them in various kinds of prisons, for longer or shorter periods of time, in proportion to their demerits. For the belief of the followers of Mohammed in the magic excellence of Solomon, see Sale's _Koran_, xxi. and xxvii. According to the prophet, the devil taught men magic and sorcery. The magic of the Moslems, or, at least, of the Egyptians, is of two kinds--high and low--which are termed respectively _rahmanee_ (divine) and _sheytanee_ (Satanic). By a perfect knowledge of the former it is possible to the adept to 'raise the dead to life, kill the living, transport himself instantly wherever he pleases, and perform any other miracle. The _low_ magic (_sooflee_ or _sheytanee_) is believed to depend on the agency of the devil and evil spirits, and unbelieving genii, and to be used for bad purposes and by bad men.' The _divine_ is 'founded on the agency of God and of His angels, &c., and employed always for good purposes, and only to be practised by men of probity, who, by tradition or from books, learn the names of those superhuman agents, &c.'--Lane's _Modern Egyptians_, chap. xii. [55] Its effect was probably to enlarge more than to modify appreciably the current ideas. A large proportion of the importations from the East may have been indebted to the invention, as much as to the credulity, of the adventurers; and we might be disposed to believe with Hume, that 'men returning from so great a distance used the liberty [a too general one] of imposing every fiction upon their believing audience.' Conspicuous in the vulgar prejudices is the suspicion attaching to the extraordinary discoveries of philosophy and science. Diabolic inspiration (as in our age infidelity and atheism are popular outcries) was a ready and successful accusation against ideas or discoveries in advance of the time. Roger Bacon, Robert Grostête, Albert the Great, Thomas of Ercildoun, Michael Scot--eminent names--were all more or less objects of a persecuting suspicion. Bacon may justly be considered the greatest name in the philosophy of the Middle Age. That anomaly of mediævalism was one of the few who could neglect a vain and senseless theology and system of metaphysics to apply his genius to the solid pursuits of truer philosophy; and if his influence has not been so great as it might have been, it is the fault of the age rather than of the man. Condemned by the fear or jealousy of his Franciscan brethren and Dominican rivals, Bacon was thrown into prison, where he was excluded from propagating 'certain suspected novelties' during fourteen years, a victim of his more liberal opinions and of theological hatred. One of the traditions of his diabolical compacts gives him credit at least for ingenuity in avoiding at once a troublesome bargain and a terrible fate. The philosopher's compact stipulated that after death his soul was to be the reward and possession of the devil, whether he died within the church's sacred walls or without them. Finding his end approaching, that sagacious magician caused a cell to be constructed in the walls of the consecrated edifice, giving directions, which were properly carried out, for his burial in a tomb that was thus neither within nor without the church--an evasion of a long-expected event, which lost the disappointed devil his prize, and probably his temper. 'Friar Bacon' became afterwards a well-known character in the vulgar fables: he was the type of the mediæval, as the poet Virgil was of the ancient, magician. A popular drama was founded on his reputed exploits and character in the sixteenth century, by Robert Greene, in 'Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay;' but the famous Dr. Faustus, the most popular magic hero of that time on the stage, was a formidable rival. While his cotemporaries denounced his rational method, preferring their theological jargon and scholastic metaphysics; how much the Aristotle of mediævalism has been neglected even latterly is a surprising fact.[56] [56] The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge have not exhibited the same impatience for a worthy edition of the works of Bacon with which Clement IV. expected a copy of the _Opus Majus_. His principal writings remained in MS. and were not published to the world until the middle of last century. But in proof of the prevalence of the popular suspicion, not even the all-powerful spiritual Chief of Christendom was spared. Many of the pontiffs were charged with being addicted to the 'Black Art'--an odd imputation against the vicars of Christ and the successors of St. Peter. A charge, however, which we may be disposed to receive as evidence that in a long and disgusting list of ambitious priests and licentious despots there have been some popes who, by cultivating philosophy, may have in some sort partially redeemed the hateful character of Christian sacerdotalism. At a council held at Paris in the interest of Philip IV., Boniface VIII. was publicly accused of sorcery: it was affirmed that 'he had a familiar demon [the Socratic Genius?]; for he has said that if all mankind were on one side and he alone on the other, he could not be mistaken either in point of fact or of right, which presupposes a diabolical art'--a dogma of sacerdotalism sufficiently confident, but scarcely requiring a miraculous solution. This pope's death, it is said, was hastened by these and similar reports of his dealings with familiar spirits, invented in the interest of the French king to justify his hostility. Boniface VIII.'s esoteric opinions on Catholicism and Christianity, if correctly reported, did not show the orthodoxy to be expected from the supreme pontiff: but he would not be a singular example amongst the numerous occupants of the chair of St. Peter.[57] [57] Leo X. (whose tastes were rather profane than pious) instructed or amused himself by causing to be discussed the question of the nature of the soul--himself adopting the opinion 'redit in nihilum quod fuit ante nihil,' and the decision of Aristotle and of Epicurus. John XXII., one of his more immediate successors, is said to be the pope who first formally condemned the crime of witchcraft, more systematically anathematised some hundred and fifty years afterwards by Innocent VIII. He complains of the universal infection of Christendom: that his own court even, and immediate attendants, were attached to the devil's service, applying to him on all occasions for help. The earliest judicial trial for the crime on record in England is said to have occurred in the reign of John. It is briefly stated in the 'Abbreviatio Placitorum' that 'Agnes, the wife of Odo the merchant, accused Gideon of sorcery; and he was acquitted by the judgment of iron.' The first account of which much information is given occurs in Edward II.'s reign, when the lives of the royal favourites, the De Spencers, and his own, were attempted by a supposed criminal, one John of Nottingham, with the assistance of his man, Robert Marshall, who became king's evidence, and charged his master with having conspired the king's death by the arts of sorcery.[58] Cupidity or malice was the cause of this informer's accusation. One of the distinguishing characteristics in its annals was the abuse of the common prejudice for political purposes, or for the gratification of private passion. [58] _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_, by Thomas Wright. At the commencement of the fourteenth century the persecution and final destruction of the Order of the Knights Templars in the different countries of Europe, but chiefly in France (an instance of the former abuse), is one of the most atrocious facts in the history of those times. The fate of the Knights of the Temple (whose original office it had been to protect their coreligionists during pilgrimages in the Holy City, and whose quarters were near the site of the Temple--whence the title of the Order) in France was determined by the jealousy or avarice of Philip IV. Founded in the first half of the twelfth century as a half-religious, half-military institution, that celebrated Order was, in its earlier career, in high repute for valour and success in fighting the battles of the Cross. With wealth and fame, pride and presumption increased to the highest pitch; and at the end of 150 years the champions of Christendom were equally hated and feared. Their entire number was no more than 1,500; but they were all experienced warriors, in possession of a number of important fortresses, besides landed property to the amount, throughout their whole extent, of nine thousand manorial estates. When the Holy Land was hopelessly lost to the profane ambition or religious zeal of the West, its defenders returned to their homes loaded with riches and prestige if not with unstained honour, and without insinuations that they had betrayed the cause of Christ and the Crusades. Such was the condition of the Temple when Philip, after exhausting the coffers of Jews and Christians, found his treasury still unfilled. The opportunity was not to be neglected: it remained only to secure the consent of the Church, and to provoke the ready credulity of the people. Church and State united, supported by the popular superstition, were irresistible; and the destined victims expected their impending fate in silent terror. At length the signal was given. Prosecutions in 1307 were carried on simultaneously throughout the provinces; but in French territory they assumed the most formidable shape. In many places they were acquitted of the gravest indictments: the English king, from a feeling of justice or jealousy, expressed himself in their favour. As for Spain, 'it was not in presence of the Moors, and on the classic ground of Crusade, that the thought could be entertained of proscribing the old defenders of Christendom.' Paris, where was their principal temple, was the centre of the Order; their wealth and power were concentrated in France; and thus the spoils not of a single province, but almost of the entire body, were within the grasp of a single monarch. Hence he assumed the right of presiding as judge and executioner.[59] On October 12, 1307, Jacques Molay, with the heads of the Temple, was invited to Paris, where, loaded with favours, they were lulled into fatal security. The delusion was soon abruptly dispelled. Molay, together with 140 of his brethren, was arrested--the signal for a more general procedure throughout the kingdom. [59] Dante seems to refer to this recent spoliation in the following verses:-- 'Lo! the new Pilate, of whose cruelty Such violence cannot fill the measure up, With no decree to sanction, pushes on Into the Temple his yet eager sails.' _Purgat._ xx. Cary's Transl. The charges have been resolved under three heads: (1) The denial of Christ. (2) Treachery to the cause of Christianity. (3) The worship of the devil, and the practice of sorcery. The principal articles in the indictment were that the knights at initiation formally denied the divinity of Christ, pronouncing he was not truly a God--even going so far as to assert he was a false prophet, a man who had been punished for his crimes; that they had no hopes of salvation through him; that at the final reception they always spat on the Cross, trampling it under foot; that they worshipped the devil in the form of a cat, or some other familiar animal; that they adored him in the figure of an idol consecrated by anointing it with the fat of a new-born infant, the illegitimate offspring of a brother; that a demon appeared in the shape of a black or gray cat, &c. The idol is a mysterious object. According to some it was a head with a beard, or a head with three faces: by others it was said to be a skull, a cat. One witness testified that in a chapter of the Order one brother said to another, 'Worship this head; it is your God and your Mahomet.' Of this kind was the general evidence of the witnesses examined. Less incredible, perhaps, is the statement that they sometimes saw demons in the appearance of women; and a more credible allegation is that of a secret understanding with the Turks. Notoriously suspicious communication had been maintained with the enemy; they even went so far as to adopt their style of dress and living. Worse than all, by an amiable but unaccustomed tolerance, the followers of Mohammed had been allowed a free exercise of their religion, a sort of liberality little short of apostasy from the faith. Without recounting all the horrors of the persecution, it must be sufficient to repeat that fifty-four of the wretched condemned, having been degraded by the Bishop of Paris, were handed over to the flames. Four years afterwards the scene was consummated by the burning of Jacques Molay. Torture of the most dreadful sort had been applied to force necessary confessions; and the complaint of one of the criminals is significant--'I, single, as I am, cannot undertake to argue with the Pope and the King of France.'[60] In attempting to detect the mysterious facts of this dark transaction little assistance is given by the contradictory statements of cotemporary or later writers; some asserting the charges to be mere fabrications throughout; others their positive reality; and recent historians have attempted to substantiate or destroy them. Hallam truly remarks that the rapacious and unprincipled conduct of Philip, the submission of Clement V. to his will, the apparent incredibility of the charges from their monstrousness, the just prejudice against confessions obtained by torture and retracted afterwards; the other prejudice, not always so just, but in the case of those not convicted on fair evidence deserving a better name, in favour of assertions of innocence made on the scaffold and at the stake, created, as they still preserve, a strong willingness to disbelieve the accusations which come so suspiciously before us.[61] An approximation to the truth may be obtained if, rejecting as improbable the accusations of devil-worship and its concomitant rites which, invented to amuse the vulgar, characterise the proceedings, we admit the _probability_ of a secret understanding with the Turks, or the _possibility_ of infidelity to the religion of Christ. Their destruction had been predetermined; the slender element of truth might soon be exaggerated and confounded with every kind of fiction. Their pride, avarice, luxury, corrupt morals, would give colour to the most absurd inventions.[62] [60] Michelet's _History of France_, book v. 4. M. Michelet suggests an ingenious explanation of some of their supposed secret practices. 'The principal charge, the denial of the Saviour, rested on an equivocation. The Templars might confess to the denial without being in reality apostates. Many averred that it was a symbolical denial, in imitation of St. Peter's--one of those pious comedies in which the antique Church enveloped the most serious acts of religion, but whose traditional meaning was beginning to be lost in the fourteenth century.' The idol-head, believed to represent Mohammed or the devil, he supposes to have been 'a representation of the Paraclete, whose festival, that of Pentecost, was the highest solemnity of the Temple.' Some have identified them, like those of the Albigenses or Waldenses, with the ceremonies of the Gnostics. [61] _View of the Middle Ages_, chap. i. The judicial impartiality (eulogised by Macaulay) and patient investigation of truth (the first merits of a historian) of the author of the _Constitutional History of England_, might almost entitle him to rank with the first of historians, Gibbon. [62] The alliance of the Church--of the Dominican Order in particular--with the secular power against its once foremost champions, is paralleled and explained by the causes that led to the dissolution of the Order of Jesus by Clement XIV. in the eighteenth century--fear and jealousy. If the history of the extermination of the Templars exemplifies in an eminent manner the political uses made by the highest in office of a prevalent superstition, the story of Alice Kyteler illustrates equally the manner in which it was prostituted to the private purposes of designing impostors. The scene is in Ireland, the period the first half of the fourteenth century; Richard de Ledrede, Bishop of Ossory, being the principal prosecutor, and a lady, Alice Kyteler, the defendant. The details are too tedious to be repeated here;[63] but the articles upon which the conviction of Alice Kyteler and her accomplices was sought are not dissimilar to those just narrated. To give effect to their sorcery they were in the habit of denying the faith for a year, or shorter period, as the object to be attained was greater or less. Demons were propitiated with sacrifices of living animals, torn limb by limb and scattered (a Hecatean feast) about cross-roads. It was alleged that by sorceries they obtained help from the devil; that they impiously used the ceremonies of the Church in nightly conventicles, pronouncing with lighted candles of wax excommunication against the persons of their own husbands, naming expressly every member from the sole of the foot to the top of the head. Their compositions are of the Horatian and Shakspearian sort. With the intestines of cocks were sacrificed various herbs, the nails of dead men, hair, brains, and clothes of children dying unbaptized, with other equally efficacious ingredients, boiled in the skull of a certain famous robber recently beheaded: powders, ointments, and candles of fat boiled in the same skull were the intended instruments for exciting love or hatred, and in affecting the bodies of the faithful. An unholy connection existed between the Lady Alice and a demon in the form sometimes of a black dog, sometimes of a cat. She was possessed of a secret ointment for impregnating a piece of wood, upon which, with her companions, she was carried to any part of the world without hurt or hindrance: in her house was found a wafer of consecrated bread inscribed with the name of the devil. The event of this trial was the conviction and imprisonment of the criminals, with the important exception of the chief object of the bishop's persecution, who contrived an escape to England. Petronilla de Meath was the first to suffer the extreme penalty. This lady, by order of the bishop, had been six times flogged, when, to escape a repetition of that barbarous infliction, she made a public confession involving her fellow-prisoners. After which Petronilla was carried out into the city and burned before all the people--the first witch, it is said, ever burned in Ireland. Of the other accused all were treated with more or less severity; two were subsequently burned, some were publicly flogged in the market-place and through the city, others banished; a few, more fortunate, escaping altogether. [63] They are given in full in _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic from the most Authentic Sources_, by Thomas Wright. In the _Annals of Ireland_, affixed to Camden's _Britannia_, ed. 1695, sub anno 1325 A.D., the case of Dame Alice Ketyll is briefly chronicled. Being cited and examined by the Bishop of Ossory, it was discovered, among other things, 'That a certain spirit called Robin Artysson lay with her; and that she offered him nine red cocks on a stone bridge where the highway branches out into four several parts. _Item_: That she swept the streets of Kilkenny with besoms between Compline and Courefeu, and in sweeping the filth towards the house of William Utlaw, her son, by way of conjuring, wished that all the wealth of Kilkenny might flow thither. The accomplices of this Alice in these devilish practices were Pernil of Meth, and Basilia the daughter of this Pernil. Alice, being found guilty, was fined by the bishop, and forced to abjure her sorcery and witchcraft. But being again convicted of the same practice, she made her escape with Basilia, and was never found. But Pernil was burnt at Kilkenny, and before her death declared that William above-said deserved punishment as well as she--that for a year and a day he wore the devil's girdle about his bare body,' &c. CHAPTER III. Witchcraft and Heresy purposely confounded by the Church--Mediæval Science closely connected with Magic and Sorcery--Ignorance of Physiology the Cause of many of the Popular Prejudices--Jeanne d'Arc--Duchess of Gloucester--Jane Shore--Persecution at Arras. What can hardly fail to be discerned in these prosecutions is the confusion of heresy and sorcery industriously created by the orthodox Church to secure the punishment of her offending dissentients. There are few proceedings against the pretended criminals in which it is not discoverable; the one crime being, as a matter of course, the necessary consequence of the other. In the interest of the Church as much as in the credulity of the people must be sought the main cause of so violent an epidemic, of so fearful a phenomenon in its continuance and atrocities, a fact demonstrated by the whole course of the superstition in the old times of Catholicism. Materials for exciting animosity and indignation against suspected heretics were near at hand. In the assurance of the pre-scientific world everything remote from ordinary knowledge or experience was inseparable from supernaturalism. What surpassed the limits of a very feeble understanding, what was beyond the commonest experience of every-day life, was with one accord relegated to the domain of the supernatural, or rather to that of the devil. For what was not done or taught by Holy Church must be of 'that wicked One'--the cunning imitator. In the twelfth century the Church was alarmed by the simultaneous springing up of various sects, which, if too hastily claimed by Protestantism as _Protestants_, in the modern sense, against Catholic theology, were yet sufficiently hostile or dangerous to engage the attention and to provoke the enmity of the pontiffs. The fate of the Stedingers and others in Germany, of the Paulicians in Northern France; of the Albigenses and Waldenses in Southern Europe, is in accordance with this successful sort of theological tactics. Many of the articles of indictment against those outlaws of the Church and of society are extracted from the primitive heresies, in particular from the doctrines of the anti-Judaic and _spiritualising_ Gnostics, and their more than fifty subdivided sects--Marcionites, Manicheans, &c. Gregory IV. issued a bull in 1232 against the Stedingers, revolted from the rule of the Archbishop of Bremen, where they are declared to be accustomed to scorn the sacraments, hold communion with devils, make representative images of wax, and consult with witches.[64] [64] A second bull enters into details. On the reception of a convert, a toad made its appearance, which was adored by the assembled crowd. On sitting down to the banquet a black cat comes upon the stage, double the size of an ordinary dog, advancing backwards with up-turned tail. The neophytes, one after another, kissed this feline demon, with due solemnity, on the back. Walter Mapes has given an account of the similar ceremonies of the _Publicans_ (Paulicians). Heretical worship was of a most licentious as well as disgusting kind. The religious meetings terminate always in indiscriminate debauchery. Alchymy, astrology, and kindred arts were closely allied to the practice of witchcraft: the profession of medicine was little better than the mixing of magical ointments, love-potions, elixirs, not always of an innocent sort; and Sangrados were not wanting in those days to trade upon the ignorance of their patients.[65] Nor, unfortunately, are the genuine seekers after truth who honestly applied to the study of nature exempt from the charge of often an unconscious fraud. Monstrous notions mingled with the more real results of their meritorious labours. Science was in its infancy, or rather was still struggling to be freed from the oppressive weight of speculative and theological nonsense before emerging into existence. Many of the fancied phenomena of witch-cases, like other physical or mental eccentricities, have been explained by the progress of reason and knowledge. Lycanthropy (the transformation of human beings into wolves by sorcery), with the no less irrational belief in demoniacal possession, the product of a diseased imagination and brain, was one of the many results of mere ignorance of physiology. In the seventeenth century lycanthropy was gravely defended by doctors of medicine as well as of divinity, on the authority of the story of Nebuchadnezzar, which proved undeniably the possibility of such metamorphoses. [65] Pliny (_Hist. Natur._ xxx.) 'observes,' as Gibbon quotes him, 'that magic held mankind by the triple chain of religion, of physic, and of astronomy.' Cotemporary annalists record the extraordinary frenzy aggravated, as it was, by the proceedings against the Templars, the signal of witch persecutions throughout France. The historian of France draws a frightful picture of the insecure condition of an ignorantly prejudiced society. Accusations poured in; poisonings, adulteries, forgeries, and, above all, charges of witchcraft, which, indeed, entered as an ingredient into all causes, forming their attraction and their horror. The judge shuddered on the judgment seat when the proofs were brought before him in the shape of philtres, amulets, frogs, black cats, and waxen images stuck full of needles. Violent curiosity was blended at these trials with the fierce joy of vengeance and a cast of fear. The public mind could not be satiated with them: the more there were burnt, the more there were brought to be burnt.[66] In 1398 the Sorbonne, at the chancellor's suggestion, published 27 articles against all sorts of sorcery, pictures of demons, and waxen figures. Six years later a synod was specially convened at Langres, and the pressing evil was anxiously deliberated at the Council of Constance. [66] Michelet, whose poetic-prose may appear hardly suitable to the philosophic dignity of history, relating the fate of two knights accused with a monk of having 'sinned' with the king's daughter-in-law 'even on the holiest days,' and who were castrated and flayed alive, truly enough infers that 'the pious confidence of the middle age which did not mistrust the immuring of a great lady along with her knights in the precincts of a castle, of a narrow tower; the vassalage which imposed on young men as a feudal duty the sweetest cares, was a dangerous trial to human nature.' Conspicuous about this period, by their importance and iniquity, are the cases of the Pucelle d'Orléans and the catastrophe of Arras. Incited (it is a modern conviction) by a noble enthusiasm, by her own ardent imagination, the Pucelle divested herself of the natural modesty of her sex for the dress and arms of a warrior; and 'her inexperienced mind, working day and night on the favourite object, mistook the impulses of passion for heavenly inspiration.' Reviewing the last scenes in the life of that patriotic shepherdess, we hesitate whether to stigmatise more the unscrupulous policy of the English authorities or the base subservience of the Parliament of Paris. The English Regent and the Cardinal of Winchester, unable to allege against their prisoner (the saviour of her country, taken prisoner in a sally from a besieged town, had been handed over by her countrymen to the foreigner) any civil crime, were forced to disguise a violation of justice and humanity in the pretence of religion; and the Bishop of Beauvais presented a petition against her, as an ecclesiastical subject, demanding to have her tried by an ecclesiastical court for sorcery, impiety, idolatry, and magic. The University of Paris acquiesced. Before this tribunal the accused was brought, loaded with chains, and clothed in her military dress. It was alleged that she had carried about a standard consecrated by magical enchantments; that she had been in the habit of attending at the witches' sabbath at a fountain near the oak of Boulaincourt; that the demons had discovered to her a magical sword consecrated in the Church of St. Catherine, to which she owed her victories; that by means of sorcery she had gained the confidence of Charles VIII. Jeanne d'Arc was convicted of all these crimes, aggravated by _heresy_: her revelations were declared to be inventions of the devil to delude the people.[67] [67] Shakspeare brings the fiends upon the stage: their work is done, and they now abandon the enchantress. In vain La Pucelle invokes in her extremity-- 'Ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd Out of the powerful regions under earth, Help me this once, that France may get the field. Oh, hold me not with silence over-long! 'Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I'll lop a member off, and give it you, In earnest of a further benefit; So you do condescend to help me now. * * * * * Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soul; my body, soul, and all, Before that England give the French the foil. See! they forsake me. * * * * * My ancient incantations are too weak And hell too strong for me to buckle with.' But a worthier, if contradictory, origin is assigned for her enthusiasm when she replies to the foul aspersion of her taunting captors-- 'Virtuous, and holy; chosen from above, By inspiration of celestial grace, To work exceeding miracles on earth, I never had to do with wicked spirits. But you--that are polluted with your lusts, Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices-- Because you want the grace that others have, You judge it straight a thing impossible To compass wonders, but by help of devils.' Her ecclesiastical judges then consigned their prisoner to the civil power; and, finally, in the words of Hume, 'this admirable heroine--to whom the more generous superstition of the ancients would have erected altars--was, on pretence of heresy and magic, delivered over alive to the flames; and expiated by that dreadful punishment the signal services she had rendered to her prince and to her native country.'[68] [68] _History of England_, XX. Shakspeare (_Henry VI._ part ii. act i.) has furnished us with the charms and incantations employed about the same time in the case of the Duchess of Gloucester. Mother Jourdain is the representative witch-hag. Without detracting from the real merit of the patriotic martyr, it might be suspected that, besides her inflamed imagination, a pious and pardonable collusion was resorted to as a last desperate effort to rouse the energy of the troops or the hopes of the people--a collusion similar to that of the celebrated Constantinian Cross, or of the Holy Lance of Antioch. Every reader is acquainted with the fate of the great personages who in England were accused, politically or popularly, of the crime; and the histories of the Duchess of Gloucester and of Jane Shore are immortalised by Shakspeare. In 1417, Joan, second wife of Henry IV., had been sentenced to prison, suspected of seeking the king's death by sorcery; a certain Friar Randolf being her accomplice and agent. The Duchess of Gloucester, wife of Humphry and daughter of Lord Cobham, was an accomplice in the witchcraft of a priest and an old woman. Her associates were Sir Roger Bolingbroke, priest; Margery Jordan or Guidemar, of Eye, in Suffolk; Thomas Southwell, and Roger Only. It was asserted 'there was found in their possession a waxen image of the king, which they melted in a magical manner before a slow fire, with the intention of making Henry's force and vigour waste away by like insensible degrees.' The duchess was sentenced to do penance and to perpetual imprisonment; Margery was burnt for a witch in Smithfield; the priest was hanged, declaring his employers had only desired to know of him how long the king would live; Thomas Southwell died the night before his execution; Roger Only was hanged, having first written a book to prove his own innocence, and against the opinion of the vulgar.[69] Jane Shore (whose story is familiar to all), the mistress of Edward IV., was sacrificed to the policy of Richard Duke of Gloucester, more than to any general suspicion of her guilt. Both the Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Ely were involved with the citizen's wife in demoniacal dealings, and imprisoned in the Tower. As for the 'harlot, strumpet Shore,' not being convicted, or at least condemned, for the worse crime, she was found guilty of adultery, and sentenced (a milder fate) to do penance in a white sheet before the assembled populace at St. Paul's.[70] [69] The historian of England justly reflects on this case that the nature of the crime, so opposite to all common sense, seems always to exempt the accusers from using the rules of common sense in their evidence. [70] This unfortunate woman was celebrated for her beauty and, with one important exception, for her virtues; and, if her vanity could not resist the fascination of a royal lover, her power had been often, it is said, exerted in the cause of humanity. Notwithstanding the neglect and ill-treatment experienced from the ingratitude of former fawning courtiers and people, she reached an advanced age, for she was living in the time of Sir Thomas More, who relates that 'when the Protector had awhile laid unto her, for the manner sake, that she went about to bewitch him, and that she was of counsel with the lord chamberlain to destroy him; in conclusion, when no colour could fasten upon this matter, then he laid heinously to her charge the thing that herself could not deny, that all the world wist was true, and that natheless every man laughed at to hear it then so suddenly so highly taken--that she was naught of her body.'--_Reign of Richard III._, quoted by Bishop Percy in _Reliques of Old English Romance Poetry_. The deformed prince fiercely attributes his proverbial misfortune to hostile witchcraft. He addresses his trembling council: 'Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up: And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.' _Richard III._ act iii. sc. 4. More tremendous than any of the cases above narrated is that of Arras, where numbers of all classes suffered. So transparent were the secret but real motives of the chief agitators, that even the unbounded credulity of the public could penetrate the thin disguise. The affair commenced with the accusation of a woman of Douai, called Demiselle (une femme de folle vie). Put to the torture repeatedly, this wretched woman was forced to confess she had frequented a meeting of sorcerers where several persons were seen and recognised; amongst others Jehan Levite, a painter at Arras. The chronicler of the fifteenth century relates the diabolical catastrophe thus: 'A terrible and melancholy transaction took place this year (1459) in the town of Arras, the capital of the county of Artois, which said transaction was called, I know not why, _Vaudoisie_: but it was said that certain men and women transported themselves whither they pleased from the places where they were seen, by virtue of a compact with the devil. Suddenly they were carried to forests and deserts, where they found assembled great numbers of both sexes, and with them a devil in the form of a man, whose face they never saw. This devil read to them, or repeated his laws and commandments in what way they were to worship and serve him: then each person kissed his back, and he gave to them after this ceremony some little money. He then regaled them with great plenty of meats and wines, when the lights were extinguished, and each man selected a female for amorous dalliance; and suddenly they were transported back to the places they had come from. For such criminal and mad acts many of the principal persons of the town were imprisoned; and others of the lower ranks, with women, and such as were known to be of this sect, were so terribly tormented, that some confessed matters to have happened as has been related. They likewise confessed to have seen and known many persons of rank, prelates, nobles, and governors of districts, as having been present at these meetings; such, indeed, as, upon the rumour of common fame, their judges and examiners named, and, as it were, put into their mouths: so that through the pains of the torments they accused many, and declared they had seen them at these meetings. Such as had been thus accused were instantly arrested, and so long and grievously tormented that they were forced to confess just whatever their judges pleased, when those of the lower rank were inhumanly burnt. Some of the richer and more powerful ransomed themselves from this disgrace by dint of money; while others of the highest orders were remonstrated with, and seduced by their examiners into confession under a promise that if they would confess, they should not suffer either in person or property. Others, again, suffered the severest torments with the utmost patience and fortitude. The judges received very large sums of money from such as were able to pay them: others fled the country, or completely proved their innocence of the charges made against them, and remained unmolested. It must not be concealed (proceeds Monstrelet) that many persons of worth knew that these charges had been raked up by a set of wicked persons to harass and disgrace some of the principal inhabitants of Arras, whom they hated with the bitterest rancour, and from avarice were eager to possess themselves of their fortunes. They at first maliciously arrested some persons deserving of punishment for their crimes, whom they had so severely tormented, holding out promises of pardon, that they forced them to accuse whomsoever they were pleased to name. This matter was considered [it must have been an exceedingly ill-devised plot to provoke suspicion and even indignation in such a matter] by all men of sense and virtue as most abominable: and it was thought that those who had thus destroyed and disgraced so many persons of worth would put their souls in imminent danger at the last day.'[71] [71] Enguerrand de Monstrelet's _Chronicles_, lib. iii. cap. 93, Johnes' Translation. _Vaudoisie_, which puzzles the annalist, seems to disclose the pretence, if not the motive, of the proceedings. Yet it is not easy to conceive so large a number of all classes involved in the proscribed heresy of the Vaudois in a single city in the north of France. Meanwhile the inquisitor, Jacques Dubois, doctor in theology, dean of Nôtre Dame at Arras, ordered the arrest of Levite the artist, and made him confess he had attended the 'Vauldine;' that he had seen there many people, men and women, burghers, ecclesiastics, whose names were specified. The bishops' vicars, overwhelmed by the number and quality of the involved, began to dread the consequence, and wished to stop the proceedings. But this did not satisfy the projects of two of the most active promoters, Jacques Dubois and the Bishop of Bayrut, who urged the Comte d'Estampes to use his authority with the vicars to proceed energetically against the prisoners. Soon afterwards the matter was brought to a crisis; the fate of the tortured convicts was decided, and amidst thousands of spectators from all parts, they were brought out, each with a mitre on his head, on which was painted the devil in the form in which he appeared at the general assemblies, and burned. They admitted (under the severest torture, promises, and threats) the truth of their meetings at the sabbaths. They used a sort of ointment well known in witch-pharmacy for rubbing a small wooden rod and the palms of their hands, and by a very common mode of conveyance were borne away suddenly to the appointed rendezvous. Here their lord and master was expecting them in the shape of a goat with the face of a man and the tail of an ape. Homage was first done by his new vassals offering up their soul or some part of the body; afterwards in adoration kissing him on the back--the accustomed salutation.[72] Next followed the different signs and ceremonies of the infernal vassalage, in particular treading and spitting upon the cross. Then to eating and drinking; after which the guests joined in acts of indescribable debauchery, when the devil took the form alternately of either sex. Dismissal was given by a mock sermon, forbidding to go to church, hear mass, or touch holy water. All these acts indicate schismatic offences which yet for the most part are the characteristics of the sabbaths in later Protestant witchcraft, excepting that the wicked apostates are there usually _papistical_ instead of _protestant_. During nearly two years Arras was subjected to the arbitrary examinations and tortures of the inquisitors; and an appeal to the Parliament of Paris could alone stop the proceedings, 1461. The chance of acquittal by the verdict of the public was little: it was still less by the sentence of judicial tribunals. [72] The 'Osculum in tergo' seems to be an indispensable part of the Homagium or _Diabolagium_. PART III. MODERN FAITH. CHAPTER I. The Bull of Innocent VIII.--A new Incentive to the vigorous Prosecution of Witchcraft--The 'Malleus Maleficarum'--Its Criminal Code--Numerous Executions at the Commencement of the Sixteenth Century--Examination of Christian Demonology--Various Opinions of the Nature of Demons--General Belief in the Intercourse of Demons and other non-human Beings with Mankind. Perhaps the most memorable epoch in the annals of witchcraft is the date of the promulgation of the bull of Pope Innocent VIII., when its prosecution was formally sanctioned, enforced, and developed in the most explicit manner by the highest authority in the Church. It was in the year 1484 that Innocent VIII. issued his famous bull directed especially against the crime in Germany, whose inquisitors were empowered to seek out and burn the malefactors _pro strigiatûs hæresi_. The bull was as follows: 'Innocent, Bishop, servant of the servants of God, in order to the future memorial of the matter.... In truth it has come to our ears, not without immense trouble and grief to ourselves, that in some parts of Higher Germany ... very many persons of both sexes, deviating from the Catholic faith, abuse themselves with the demons, Incubus and Succubus; and by incantations, charms, conjurations, and other wicked _superstitions_, by criminal acts and offences have caused the offspring of women and of the lower animals, the fruits of the earth, the grape, and the products of various plants, men, women, and other animals of different kinds, vineyards, meadows, pasture land, corn, and other vegetables of the earth, to perish, be oppressed, and utterly destroyed; that they torture men and women with cruel pains and torments, internal as well as external; that they hinder the proper intercourse of the sexes, and the propagation of the human species. Moreover, they are in the habit of denying the very faith itself. We therefore, willing to provide by opportune remedies according as it falls to us by our office, by our apostolical authority, by the tenor of these presents do appoint and decree that they be convicted, imprisoned, punished, and mulcted according to their offences.... By the apostolic rescript given at Rome.' This, in brief, is an outline of the proclamation of Innocent VIII., the principles of which were developed in the more voluminous work of the 'Malleus Maleficarum,'[73] or Hammer of Witches, five years later. In the interval, the effect of so forcible an appeal from the Head of the Church was such as might be expected. Cumanus, one of the inquisitors in 1485, burned forty-one witches, first shaving them to search for 'marks.' Alciatus, a lawyer, tells us that another ecclesiastical officer burned one hundred witches in Piedmont, and was prevented in his plan of daily _autos-da-fé_ only by a general uprising of the people, who at length drove him out of the country, when the archbishop succeeded to the vacant office. In several provinces, even the servile credulity of the populace could not tolerate the excesses of the judges; and the inhabitants rose _en masse_ against their inquisitorial oppressors, dreading the entire depopulation of their neighbourhood. As a sort of apology for the bull of 1484 was published the 'Malleus'--a significantly expressive title.[74] The authors appointed by the pope were Jacob Sprenger, of the Order of Preachers, and Professor of Theology in Cologne; John Gremper, priest, Master in Arts; and Henry Institor. The work is divisible, according to the title, into three parts--Things that pertain to Witchcraft; The Effects of Witchcraft; and The Remedies for Witchcraft. [73] Ennemoser (_History of Magic_), a modern and milder Protestant, excepts to the general denunciations of Pope Innocent ('who assumed this name, undoubtedly, because he wished it to indicate what he really desired to be') by Protestant writers who have used such terms as 'a scandalous hypocrite,' 'a cursed war-song of hell,' 'hangmen's slaves,' 'rabid jailers,' 'bloodthirsty monsters,' &c.; and thinks that 'the accusation which was made against Innocent could only have been justly founded if the pope had not participated in the general belief, if he had been wiser than his time, and really seen that the heretics were no allies of the devil, and that the witches were no heretics.' [74] The complete title is 'MALLEUS MALEFICARUM in tres partes divisus, in quibus I. Concurrentia ad maleficia; II. Maleficiorum effectus; III. Remedia adversus maleficia. Et modus denique procedendi ac puniendi maleficas abunde continetur, præcipue autem omnibus inquisitoribus et divini verbi concionatoribus utilis et necessarius.' The original edition of 1489 is the one quoted by Hauber, _Bibliotheca Mag._, and referred to by Ennemoser, _History of Magic_. In this apology the editors are careful to affirm that they _collected_, rather than _furnished_, their materials originally, and give as their venerable authorities the names of Dionysius the Areopagite, Chrysostom, Hilary, Augustin, Gregory I., Remigius, Thomas Aquinas, and others. The writers exult in the consciousness of security, in spite of the attempts of the demons, day and night, to deter them from completing their meritorious labours. Stratagems of every sort are employed in vain. In their judgment the worst species of human wickedness sink into nothing, compared with apostasy from the Church and, by consequence, alliance with hell. A genuine or pretended dread of sorcery, and an affected contempt for the female sex, with an extremely low estimate of its virtues (adopting the language of the Fathers), characterises the opinions of the compilers. Ennemoser has made an abstract from the 'Demonomagie' of Horst (founded on Hauber's original work), of the 'Hexenhammer,' under its three principal divisions. The third part, which contains the Criminal Code, and consists of thirty-five questions, is the most important section. It is difficult to decide which is the more astonishing, the perfect folly or the perfect iniquity of the Code: it is easier to understand how so many thousands of victims were helplessly sacrificed. The arrest might take place on the simple rumour of a witch being found somewhere, without any previous denunciation. The most abandoned and the most infamous persons may be witnesses: no criminal is too bad. Even a witch or heretic (the _worst_ criminal in the eye of ecclesiastical law) is capable of giving evidence. Husbands and wives may witness one against the other; and the testimony of children was received as good evidence. The ninth and tenth chapters consider the question 'whether a defence was to be allowed; if an advocate defended his client beyond what was requisite, whether it was not reasonable that he too should be considered guilty; for he is a patron of witches and heretics.... Thirteenth chapter: What the judge has to notice in the torture-chamber. Witches who have given themselves up for years, body and soul, to the devil, are made by him so insensible to pain on the rack, that they rather allow themselves to be torn to pieces than confess. Fourteenth chapter: Upon torture and the mode of racking. In order to bring the accused to voluntary confession, you may promise her her life; which promise, however, may afterwards be withdrawn. If the witch does not confess the first day, the torture to be continued the second and third days. But here the difference between continuing and repeating is important. The torture may not be _continued_ without fresh evidence, but it may be _repeated_ according to judgment. Fifteenth chapter: Continuance of the discovery of a witch by her marks. Amongst other signs, weeping is one. It is a damning thing if the accused, on being brought up, cannot shed tears. The clergy and judges lay their hands on the head of the accused, and adjure her by the hot tears of the Most Glorified Virgin that in case of her innocence, she shed abundant tears in the name of God the Father.'[75] [75] Ennemoser's _History of Magic_. Translated by W. Howitt. There are three kinds of men whom witchcraft cannot touch--magistrates; clergymen exercising the pious rites of the Church; and saints, who are under the immediate protection of the angels. The 'Bull' and 'Malleus' were the code and textbook of Witchcraft amongst the Catholics, as the Act and 'Demonologie' of James VI. were of the Protestants. Perhaps the most important result of the former was to withdraw entirely the authorised prosecution and punishment of the criminals from the civil to the ecclesiastical tribunals. Formerly they had a divided jurisdiction. At the same time the fury of popular and judicial fanaticism was greatly inflamed by this new sanction. Immediately, and almost simultaneously, in different parts of Europe, heretical witches were hunted up, tortured, burned, or hanged; and those parts of the Continent most infected with the widening heresy suffered most. The greater number in Germany seems to show that the dissentients from Catholic dogma there were rapidly increasing, some time before Luther thundered out his denunciations. An unusual storm of thunder and lightning in the neighbourhood of Constance was the occasion of burning two old women, Ann Mindelen and one 'Agnes.'[76] One contemporary writer asserts that 1,000 persons were put to death in one year in the district of Como; and Remigius, one of the authorised _inquisitores pravitatis hæreticæ_, boasts of having burned 900 in the course of fifteen years. Martin del Rio states 500 were executed in Geneva in the short space of three months in 1515; and during the next five years 40 were burned at Ravensburgh. Great numbers suffered in France at the same period. At Calahorra, in Spain, in 1507, a vast _auto-da-fé_ was exhibited, when 39 women, denounced as sorceresses, were committed to the flames--religious carnage attested by the unsuspected evidence of the judges and executioners themselves. [76] Hutchinson's _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_, chap ii. It is opportune here to examine the common beliefs of demonology and sorcery as they existed in Europe. Christian demonology is a confused mixture of pagan, Oriental, and Christian ideas. The Christian Scriptures have seemed to suggest and sanction a constant personal interference of the 'great adversary,' who is always traversing the earth 'seeking whom he may devour;' and his popular figure is represented as a union of the great dragon, the satyrs, and fauns. Nor does he often appear without one or other of his recognised marks--the cloven foot, the goat's horns, beard, and legs, or the dragon's tail. With young and good-looking witches he is careful to assume the recommendations of a young and handsome man, whilst it is not worth while to disguise so unprepossessing peculiarities in his incarnate manifestations to _old_ women, the enjoyment of whose souls is the great purpose of seduction. Sir Thomas Browne ('Vulgar Errors'), a man of much learning and still more superstitious fancy, speciously explains the phenomenon of the cloven foot. He suggests that 'the ground of this opinion at first might be his frequent appearing in the shape of a goat, which answers this description. This was the opinion of the ancient Christians concerning the apparitions of _panites_, fauns, and satyrs: and of this form we read of one that appeared to Anthony in the wilderness. The same is also confirmed from exposition of Holy Scripture. For whereas it is said "Thou shalt not offer unto devils," the original word is _Seghuirim_, i. e. rough and hairy goats; because in that shape the devil most often appeared, as is expounded by the rabbins, as Tremellius hath also explained; and as the word _Ascimah_, the God of Emath, is by some explained.' Dr. Joseph Mede, a pious and learned divine, author of the esteemed 'Key to the Apocalypse,' pronounces that 'the devil could not appear in human shape while man was in his integrity, because he was a spirit fallen from his first glorious perfection, and therefore must appear in such shape which might argue his imperfection and abasement, which was the shape of a beast; otherwise [he plausibly contends] no reason can be given why he should not rather have appeared to Eve in the shape of a woman than of a serpent. But since the fall of man the case is altered; now we know he can take upon him the shape of a man. He appears in the shape of man's imperfection rather for age or deformity, as like an old man (for so the witches say); and, perhaps, it is not altogether false, which is vulgarly affirmed, that the devil appearing in human shape has always a deformity of some uncouth member or other, as though he could not yet take upon him human shape entirely, for that man is not entirely and utterly fallen as he is.' Whatever form he may assume, the cloven foot must always be visible under every disguise; and Othello looks first for that fabulous but certain sign when he scrutinises his treacherous friend. Reginald Scot's reminiscences of what was instilled into him in the nursery may possibly occur to some even at this day. 'In our childhood,' he complains, 'our mothers' maids have so terrified us with an ugly devil having horns on his head, fire in his mouth, a tail in his breech, eyes like a bison, fangs like a dog, a skin like a _niger_, a voice roaring like a lion, whereby we start and are afraid when we hear one cry Boh!' Chaucer has expressed the belief of his age on the subject. It seems to have been a proper duty of a parish priest to bring to the notice of his ecclesiastical superior, with other crimes, those of sorcery. The Friar describes his 'Erchedeken' as one-- That boldely didde execucioun In punyschying of fornicacioun, Of wicchecraft.... This ecclesiastic employed in his service a subordinate 'sompnour,' who, in the course of his official duty, one day meets a devil, whose 'dwellynge is in Helle,' who condescends to enlighten the officer on the dark subject of demon-apparitions:-- When us liketh we can take us on Or ellis make you seme that we ben schape Som tyme like a man or like an ape; Or like an aungel can I ryde or go: It is no wonder thing though it be so, A lowsy jogelour can deceyve the; And, parfay, yet can I more craft than he. To the question why they are not satisfied with _one_ shape for all occasions, the devil answers at length:-- Som tyme we ben Goddis instrumentes And menes to don his commandementes, Whan that him liste, upon his creatures In divers act and in divers figures. Withouten him we have no might certayne If that him liste to stonden ther agayne. And som tyme at our prayer, have we leve Only the body and not the soule greve; Witnesse on Job, whom we didde ful wo. And som tyme have we might on bothe two, That is to say of body and soule eeke And som tyme be we suffred for to seeke Upon a man and don his soule unrest And not his body, and al is for the best. Whan he withstandeth our temptacioun It is a cause of his savacioun. Al be it so it was naught our entente He schuld be sauf, but that we wolde him hente. And som tyme we ben servaunt unto man As to the Erchebisschop Saynt Dunstan; And to the Apostolis servaunt was I. * * * * * Som tyme we fegn, and som tyme we ryse With dede bodies, in ful wonder wyse, And speke renably, and as fayre and wel As to the Phitonissa dede Samuel: And yit wil som men say, it was not he. I do no fors of your divinitie.[77] [77] _Canterbury Tales._ T. Wright's Text. Chaucer, the English Boccaccio in verse, attacks alike with his sarcasms the Church and the female sex. Jewish theology, expanded by their leading divines, includes a formidable array of various demons; and the whole of nature in Christian belief was peopled with every kind 'Of those demons that are found In fire, air, flood, or under ground.' Various opinions have been held concerning the nature of devils and demons. Some have maintained, with Tertullian, that they are 'the souls of baser men.' It is a disputed question whether they are mortal or immortal; subject to, or free from, pain. 'Psellus, a Christian, and sometime tutor to Michael Pompinatius, Emperor of Greece, a great observer of the nature of devils, holds they are corporeal, and live and die: ... that they feel pain if they be hurt (which Cardan confirms, and Scaliger justly laughs him to scorn for); and if their bodies be cut, with admirable celerity they come together again. Austin approves as much; so doth Hierome, Origen, Tertullian, Lactantius, and many eminent fathers of the Church; that in their fall their bodies were changed into a more aerial and gross substance.' The Platonists and some rabbis, Porphyrius, Plutarch, Zosimus, &c., hold this opinion, which is scornfully denied by some others, who assert that they only deceive the eyes of men, effecting no real change. Cardan believes 'they feed on men's souls, and so [a worthy origin] belike that we have so many battles fought in all ages, countries, is to make them a feast and their sole delight: but if displeased they fret and chafe (for they feed belike on the souls of beasts, as we do on their bodies) and send many plagues amongst us.' Their exact numbers and orders are differently estimated by different authorities. It is certain that they fill the air, the earth, the water, as well as the subterranean globe. The air, according to Paracelsus, is not so full of flies in summer as it is at all times of invisible devils. Some writers, professing to follow Socrates and Plato, determine nine sorts. Whatever or wherever the supralunary may be, our world is more interested in the sublunary tribes. These are variously divided and subdivided. One authority computes six distinct kinds--Fiery, Aerial, Terrestrial, Watery, Subterranean and Central: these last inhabiting the central regions of the interior of the earth. The Fiery are those that work 'by blazing stars, fire-drakes; they counterfeit suns and moons, stars oftentimes. The Aerial live, for the most part, in the air, cause many tempests, thunder and lightning, tear oaks, fire steeples, houses; strike men and beasts; make it rain stones, as in Livy's time, wool, frogs, &c.; counterfeit armies in the air, strange noises ... all which Guil. Postellus useth as an argument (as, indeed, it is) to persuade them that will not believe there be spirits or devils. They cause whirlwinds on a sudden and tempestuous storms, which, though our meteorologists generally refer to natural causes, yet I am of Bodine's mind, they are more often caused by those aerial devils in their several quarters; for they ride on the storms as when a desperate man makes away with himself, which, by hanging or drowning, they frequently do, as Kormannus observes, _tripudium agentes_, dancing and rejoicing at the death of a sinner. These can corrupt the air, and cause sickness, plagues, storms, shipwrecks, fires, inundations.... Nothing so familiar (if we may believe those relations of Saxo Grammaticus, Olaus Magnus, &c.) as for witches and sorcerers in Lapland, Lithuania, and all over Scandia to sell winds to mariners and cause tempests, which Marcus Paulus, the Venetian, relates likewise of the Tartars.[78] [78] It is still the custom of the Tartar or Thibetian Lamas, or at least of some of them, to scatter charms to the winds for the benefit of travellers. M. Huc's _Travels in Tartary, Thibet, &c._ 'These are they which Cardan thinks desire so much carnal copulation with witches (Incubi and Succubi), transform bodies, and are so very cold if they be touched, and that serve magicians.... Water devils are those naiads or water nymphs which have been heretofore conversant about waters and rivers. The water (as Paracelsus thinks) is their chaos, wherein they live ... appearing most part (saith Trithemius) in women's shapes. Paracelsus hath several stories of them that have lived and been married to mortal men, and so continued for certain years with them, and after, upon some dislike, have forsaken them. Such an one was Egeria, with whom Numa was so familiar, Diana, Ceres, &c.... Terrestrial devils are Lares, Genii, Fauns, Satyrs, Wood-nymphs, Foliots, Fairies, Robin Goodfellows, Trulli; which, as they are most conversant with men, so they do them most harm. Some think it was they alone that kept the heathen people in awe of old.... Subterranean devils are as common as the rest, and do as much harm. Olaus Magnus makes six kinds of them, some bigger, some less, commonly seen about mines of metals, and are some of them noxious; some again do no harm (they are guardians of treasure in the earth, and cause earthquakes). The last (sort) are conversant about the centre of the earth, to torture the souls of damned men to the day of judgment; their egress and ingress some suppose to be about Ætna, Lipari, Hecla, Vesuvius, Terra del Fuego, because many shrieks and fearful cries are continually heard thereabouts, and familiar apparitions of dead men, ghosts, and goblins.' As for the particular offices and operations of those various tribes, 'Plato, in _Critias_, and after him his followers, gave out that they were men's governors and keepers, our lords and masters, as we are of our cattle. They govern provinces and kingdoms by oracles, auguries, dreams, rewards and punishments, prophecies, inspirations, sacrifices and religious _superstitions_, varied in as many forms as there be diversity of spirits; they send wars, plagues, peace, sickness, health, dearth, plenty, as appears by those histories of Thucydides, Livius, Dionysius Halicarnassensis, with many others, that are full of their wonderful stratagems.' They formerly devoted themselves, each one, to the service of particular individuals as familiar demons, 'private spirits.' Numa, Socrates, and many others were indebted to their _Genius_. The power of the devil is not limited to the body. 'Many think he can work upon the body, but not upon the mind. But experience pronounceth otherwise, that he can work both upon body and mind. Tertullian is of this opinion.' The causes and inducements of 'possession' are many. One writer affirms that 'the devil being a slender, incomprehensible spirit can easily insinuate and wind himself into human bodies, and cunningly couched in our bowels, vitiate our healths, terrify our souls with fearful dreams, and shake our minds with furies. They go in and out of our bodies as bees do in a hive, and so provoke and tempt us as they perceive our temperature inclined of itself and most apt to be deluded.... Agrippa and Lavater are persuaded that this humour [the melancholy] invites the devil into it, wheresoever it is in extremity, and, of all other, melancholy persons are most subject to diabolical temptations and illusions, and most apt to entertain them, and the devil best able to work upon them. 'But whether,' declares Burton, 'by obsession, or possession, or otherwise, I will not determine; 'tis a difficult question.'[79] [79] _The Anatomy of Melancholy_, by Democritus junior; edited by Democritus minor. Part i. sect. 2. An equally copious and curious display of learning. Few authors, probably, have been more plagiarised. The mediævalists believed themselves surrounded everywhere by spiritual beings; but unlike the ancients, they were convinced not so much that they were the peculiar care of heaven as that they were the miserable victims of hellish malice, ever seeking their temporal as well as eternal destruction; a fact apparent in the whole mediæval literature and art.[80] [80] Sismondi (_Literature of the South of Europe_) has observed of the greatest epic of the Middle Age, that 'Dante, in common with many fathers of the Church, under the supposition that paganism, in the persons of the infernal gods, represented the fallen angels, has made no scruple to adopt its fables.' Tasso, at a later period, introduces the deities of heathendom. In the _Gerusalemme Liberata_ they sit in council to frustrate the plans and destroy the forces of the Christian leaders before Jerusalem (iv). Ismeno, a powerful magician in the ranks of the Turks, brings up a host of diabolic allies to guard the wood which supplied the infidels with materials for carrying on the siege of the city (xiii.). And the masterpieces of art of Guido or Raffaelle, which excite at once admiration and despair in their modern disciples, consecrated and immortalised the vulgar superstition. Glanvil's conjectures on the cause of the _comparative_ rarity of demoniac and other spiritual apparitions in general may interest the credulous or curious reader. ''Tis very probable,' reasons the Doctor, 'that the state wherein they are will not easily permit palpable intercourses between the bad genii and mankind: since 'tis like enough their own laws and government do not allow their frequent excursions into the world. Or it may with great probability be supposed that 'tis a very hard and painful thing for them to force their thin and _tenuious_ bodies into a visible consistence, and such shapes as are necessary for their designs in their correspondence with witches. For in this action their bodies must needs be exceedingly compressed, which cannot well be without a painful sense. And this is, perhaps, a reason why there are so few apparitions, and why appearing spirits are commonly in such a hurry to be gone, viz. that they may be delivered of the unnatural pressure of their tender vehicles,[81] which I confess holds more in the apparition of good than evil spirits ... the reason of which probably is the greater subtlety and tenuity of the former, which will require far greater degrees of compression and consequently of pain to make them visible; whereas the latter are feculent and gross, and so nearer allied to palpable existences, and more easily reducible to appearance and visibility.'[82] [81] So specious a theory must have occurred to, and its propriety will easily be recognised by, the spirit and ghost advocates of the present day. [82] _Sadducismus Triumphatus._ Considerations about Witchcraft. Sect. xi. 'Palpable intercourses between the bad genii and mankind' are more frequent than Dr. Glanvil was disposed to believe; and he must have been conversant with the acts of Incubus and Succubus. In the first age (orbe novo c[oe]loque recenti) under the Saturnian regime, 'while yet there was no fear of Jove,'[83] innocence prevailed undisturbed; but soon as the silver age was inaugurated by the usurpation of Jove, _liaisons_ between gods and mortals became frequent. Love affairs between good or bad 'genii' and mankind are of common occurrence in the mythology of most peoples. In the romance-tales of the middle age lovers find themselves unexpectedly connected with some mysterious being of inhuman kind. The writers in defence of witchcraft quote Genesis vi. in proof of the reality of such intercourses; and Justin Martyr and Tertullian, the great apologists of Christianity, and others of the Fathers, interpret _Filios Dei_ to be angels or evil spirits who, enamoured with the beauty of the women, begot the primeval giants.[84] [83] 'Jove nondum Barbato.' [84] Milton indignantly exclaims, alluding to this common fancy of the leaders of the Primitive Church, 'Who would think him fit to write an apology for Christian faith to the Roman Senate that could tell them "how of the angels"--of which he must needs mean those in Genesis called the Sons of God--"mixing with women were begotten the devils," as good Justin Martyr in his Apology told them.' (_Reformation in England_, book i.). And 'Clemens Alexandrinus, Sulpicius Severus, Eusebius, &c., make a twofold fall of angels--one from the beginning of the world; another a little before the deluge, as Moses teacheth us, openly professing that these _genii_ can beget and have carnal copulation with woman' (_Anatomy of Melancholy_, part i.). Robert Burton gives in his adhesion to the sentiments of Lactantius (xiv. 15). It seems that the later Jewish devils owe their origin (according to the Talmudists, as represented by Pererius in the _Anatomy_) to a former wife of Adam, called Lilis, the predecessor of Eve. Some tremendous results of diabolic connections appear in the metrical romances of the twelfth or thirteenth century, as well as in those early Anglo-Norman chroniclers or fabulists, who have been at the pains to inform us of the pre-historic events of their country. The author of the romance-poem of the well-known Merlin--so famous in British prophecy--in introducing his hero, enters upon a long dissertation on the origin of the infernal arts. He informs us on the authority of 'David the prophet, and of Moses,' that the greater part of the angels who rebelled under the leadership of Lucifer, lost their former power and beauty, and became 'fiendes black:' that instead of being precipitated into 'helle-pit,' many remained in mid-air, where they still retain the faculty of seducing mortals by assuming whatever shape they please. These had been much concerned at the miraculous birth of Christ; but it was hoped to counteract the salutary effects of that event, by producing from some virgin a semi-demon, whose office it should be to disseminate sorcerers and wicked men. For this purpose the devil[85] prepares to seduce three young sisters; and proceeds at once in proper disguise to an old woman, with whose avarice and cunning he was well acquainted. Her he engaged by liberal promises to be mediatrix in the seduction of the elder sister, whom he was prevented from attempting in person by the precautions of a holy hermit. Like 'the first that fell of womankind,' the young lady at length consented; was betrayed by the _fictitious_ youth, and condemned by the law to be burnt alive. [85] Probably, 'Belial, the dissolutest spirit that fell, The sensualist; and after Asmodai The fleshliest Incubus.'--_Par. Reg._ The same fate, excepting the fearful penalty, awaited the second. And now, too late, the holy hermit became aware of his disastrous negligence. He strictly enjoined on the third and remaining sister a constant watch. Her security, however, was the cause of her betrayal. On one occasion, in a moment of remissness, she forgot her prayers and the sign of the cross, before retiring for the night. No longer excluded, the fiend, assuming human shape, effected his purpose. In due time a son was born, whose parentage was sufficiently evinced by an entire covering of black hair, although his limbs were well-formed, and his features fine. Fortunately, the careless guardian had exactly calculated the moment of the demon's birth; and no sooner was he informed of the event, than the new-born infant was borne off to the regenerating water, when he was christened by the name of Merlin; the fond hopes of the demons being for this time, at least, irretrievably disappointed. How Merlin, by superhuman prowess and knowledge, defeated the Saracens (Saxons) in many bloody battles; his magical achievements and favour at the court of King Vortigern and his successors, are fully exhibited by the author of the history.[86] Geoffrey of Monmouth recounts them as matters of fact; and they are repeated by Vergil in the History of Britain, composed under the auspices of Henry VIII. [86] See _Early English Metrical Romances_, ed. by Sir H. Ellis. By the ancients, whole peoples were sometimes said to be derived from these unholy connections. Jornandes, the historian of the Goths, is glad to be able to relate their hated rivals, the Huns (of whom the Kalmuck Tartars are commonly said to be the modern representatives), to have owed their origin to an intercourse of the Scythian witches with infernal spirits. The extraordinary form and features of those dreaded emigrants from the steppes of Tartary, had suggested to the fear and hatred of their European subjects, a fable which Gibbon supposes might have been derived from a more pleasing one of the Greeks.[87] [87] A sufficiently large collection from ancient and modern writers of the facts of _inhuman_ connections may be seen in the _Anatomy of Melancholy_, part iii. sect. 2. Having repeated the assertions of previous authors proving the fact of intercourses of human with inferior species of animals, Burton fortifies his own opinion of their reality by numerous authorities. If those stories be true, he reasons, that are written of Incubus and Succubus, of nymphs, lascivious fauns, satyrs, and those heathen gods which were devils, those lascivious Telchines of whom the Platonists tell so many fables; or those familiar meetings in our day [1624] and company of witches and devils, there is some probability for it. I know that Biarmannus, Wierus, and some others stoutly deny it ... but Austin (lib. xv. _de Civit. Dei_) doth acknowledge it. And he refers to Plutarch, _Vita Numæ; Wierus, de Præstigiis Dæmon., Giraldus Cambrensis, Malleus Malef., Jacobus Reussus, Godelman, Erastus, John Nider, Delrio, Lipsius, Bodin, Pererius, King James, &c_. The learned and curious work of the melancholy Student of Christ Church and Oxford Rector has been deservedly commended by many eminent critics. That 'exact mathematician and curious calculator of nativities' calculated exactly, according to Anthony Wood (_Athenæ Oxon._), the period of his own death--1639. The acts of Incubus assume an important part in witch-trials and confessions. Incubus is the visitor of females, Succubus of males. Chaucer satirises the gallantries of the vicarious Incubus by the mouth of the wife of Bath (that practical admirer of Solomon and the Samaritan woman),[88] who prefaces her tale with the assurance:-- That maketh that ther ben no fayeries, For ther as wont was to walken an elf Ther walketh noon but the _Lymitour_ himself. * * * * * Women may now go safely up and downe; In every busch and under every tre Ther is noon other _Incubus_ but he. [88] The wife of Bath, who had buried only her fifth husband, must appear modest by comparison. Not to mention Seneca's or Martial's assertions or insinuations, St. Jerome was acquainted with the case of a woman who had buried her _twenty-second_ husband, whose conjugal capacity, however, was exceeded by the Dutch wife who, on the testimony of honest John Evelyn, had buried her _twenty-fifth_ husband! Reginald Scot has devoted several chapters of his work to a relation of the exploits of Incubus.[89] But he honestly warns his readers 'whose chaste ears cannot well endure to hear of such lecheries (gathered out of the books of divinity of great authority) to turn over a few leaves wherein I have, like a groom, thrust their stuff, even that which I myself loath, as into a stinking corner: howbeit none otherwise, I hope, but that the other parts of my writing shall remain sweet.' He repeats a story from the 'Vita Hieronymi,' which seems to insinuate some suspicion of the character of a certain Bishop Sylvanus. It relates that one night Incubus invaded a certain lady's bedroom. Indignant at so unusual, or at least disguised, an apparition, the lady cried out loudly until the guests of the house came and found it under the bed in the likeness of the bishop; 'which holy man,' adds Scot, 'was much defamed thereby.' Another tradition or legend seems to reflect upon the chastity of the greatest saint of the Middle Ages.[90] The superhuman oppression of Incubus is still remembered in the proverbial language of the present day. The horrors of the infernal compacts and leagues, as exhibited in the fates of wizards or magicians at the last hour, formed one of the most popular scenes on the theatrical stage. Christopher Marlow, in 'The Life and Death of Dr. Faustus,' and Robert Greene, in 'Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay,' in the Elizabethan age, dramatised the common, conception of the Compact. [89] See the fourth book of the _Discoverie_. [90] 'It is written in the legend of St. Bernard,' we are told, 'that a pretty wench that had the use of Incubus his body by the space of six or seven years in Aquitania (being belike weary of him for that he waxed old), would needs go to St. Bernard another while. But Incubus told her if she would so forsake him, he would be revenged upon her. But befal what would, she went to St. Bernard, who took her his staff and bad her lay it in the bed beside her. And, indeed, the devil, fearing the staff or that St. Bernard lay there himself, durst not approach into her chamber that night. What he did afterwards I am uncertain.' This story will not appear so evidential to the reader as Scot seems to infer it to be. If any credit is to be given to the strong insinuations of Protestant divines of the sixteenth century, the 'holy bishop Sylvanus' is not the only example among the earlier saints of the frailty of human nature. CHAPTER II. Three Sorts of Witches--Various Modes of Witchcraft--Manner of Witch-Travelling--The Sabbaths--Anathemas of the Popes against the Crime--Bull of Adrian VI.--Cotemporary Testimony to the Severity of the Persecutions--Necessary Triumph of the Orthodox Party--Germany most subject to the Superstition--Acts of Parliament of Henry against Witchcraft--Elizabeth Barton--The Act of 1562--Executions under Queen Elizabeth's Government--Case of Witchcraft narrated by Reginald Scot. The ceremonies of the compact by which a woman became a witch have been already referred to. It was almost an essential condition in the vulgar creed that she should be, as Gaule ('Select Cases of Conscience touching Witches,' &c., 1646) represents, an old woman with a wrinkled face, a furred brow, a hairy lip, a gobber tooth, a squint eye, a squeaking voice, a scolding tongue, having a ragged coat on her back, a skull-cap on her head, a spindle in her hand, a dog or cat by her side. There are three sorts of the devil's agents on earth--the black, the gray, and the white witches. The first are omnipotent for evil, but powerless for good. The white have the power to help, but not to hurt.[91] As for the third species (a mixture of white and black), they are equally effective for good or evil. [91] A writer at the beginning of the seventeenth century (Cotta, _Tryall of Witchcraft_) says, 'This kind is not obscure at this day, swarming in this kingdom, whereof no man can be ignorant who lusteth to observe the uncontrouled liberty and licence of open and ordinary resort in all places unto _wise_ men and _wise_ women, so vulgarly termed for their reputed knowledge concerning such diseased persons as are supposed to be bewitched.' And (_Short Discoverie of Unobserved Dangers, 1612_) 'the mention of witchecraft doth now occasion the remembrance in the next place of a sort of practitioners whom our custom and country doth call wise men and wise women, reputed a kind of good and honest harmless witches or wizards, who, by good words, by hallowed herbs and salves, and other superstitious ceremonies, promise to allay and calm devils, practices of other witches, and the forces of many diseases.' Another writer of the same date considers 'it were a thousand times better for the land if all witches, but specially the _blessing witch_, might suffer death. Men do commonly hate and spit at the _damnifying_ sorcerer as unworthy to live among them, whereas they fly unto the other in necessity; they depend upon him as their God, and by this means thousands are carried away, to their final confusion. Death, therefore, is the just and deserved portion of the _good_ witch.'--_Observations on the Popular Antiquities of Great Britain_, by Brand, ed. by Sir H. Ellis. Equally various and contradictory are the motives and acts assigned to witches. Nothing is too great or too mean for their practice: they engage with equal pleasure in the overthrow of a kingdom or a religion, and in inflicting the most ordinary evils and mischiefs in life. Their mode of bewitching is various: by fascination or casting an evil eye ('Nescio,' says the Virgilian shepherd, 'quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos'); by making representations of the person to be acted upon in wax or clay, roasting them before a fire; by mixing magical ointments or other compositions and ingredients revealed to us in the witch-songs of Shakspeare, Jonson, Middleton, Shadwell, and others; sometimes merely by muttering an imprecation. They ride in sieves on the sea, on brooms, spits magically prepared; and by these modes of conveyance are borne, without trouble or loss of time, to their destination. By these means they attend the periodical sabbaths, the great meetings of the witch-tribe, where they assemble at stated times to do homage, to recount their services, and to receive the commands of their lord. They are held on the night between Friday and Saturday; and every year a grand sabbath is ordered for celebration on the Blocksberg mountains, for the night before the first day of May. In those famous mountains the obedient vassals congregate from all parts of Christendom--from Italy, Spain, Germany, France, England, and Scotland. A place where four roads meet, a rugged mountain range, or perhaps the neighbourhood of a secluded lake or some dark forest, is usually the spot selected for the meeting.[92] [92] 'When orders had once been issued for the meeting of the sabbath, all the wizards and witches who failed to attend it were lashed by demons with a rod made of serpents or scorpions. In France and England the witches were supposed to ride uniformly upon broom-sticks; but in Italy and Spain, the devil himself, in the shape of a goat, used to transport them on his back, which lengthened or shortened according to the number of witches he was desirous of accommodating. No witch, when proceeding to the sabbath, could get out by a door or window were she to try ever so much. Their general mode of ingress was by the key-hole, and of egress by the chimney, up which they flew, broom and all, with the greatest ease. To prevent the absence of the witches being noticed by their neighbours, some inferior demon was commanded to assume their shapes, and lie in their beds, feigning illness, until the sabbath was over. When all the wizards and witches had arrived at the place of rendezvous, the infernal ceremonies began. Satan having assumed his favourite shape of a large he-goat, with a face in front and another in his haunches, took his seat upon a throne; and all present in succession paid their respects to him and kissed him in his face behind. This done, he appointed a master of the ceremonies, in company with whom he made a personal examination of all the witches, to see whether they had the secret mark about them by which they were stamped as the devil's own. This mark was always insensible to pain. Those who had not yet been marked received the mark from the master of the ceremonies, the devil at the same time bestowing nick-names upon them. This done, they all began to sing and dance in the most furious manner until some one arrived who was anxious to be admitted into their society. They were then silent for a while until the new comer had denied his salvation, kissed the devil, spat upon the Bible, and sworn obedience to him in all things. They then began dancing again with all their might and singing.... In the course of an hour or two they generally became wearied of this violent exercise, and then they all sat down and recounted their evil deeds since last meeting. Those who had not been malicious and mischievous enough towards their fellow-creatures received personal chastisement from Satan himself, who flogged them with thorns or scorpions until they were covered with blood and unable to sit or stand. When this ceremony was concluded, they were all amused by a dance of toads. Thousands of these creatures sprang out of the earth, and standing on their hind-legs, danced while the devil played the bagpipes or the trumpet. These toads were all endowed with the faculty of speech, and entreated the witches there to reward them with the flesh of unbaptized infants for their exertions to give them pleasure. The witches promised compliance. The devil bade them remember to keep their word; and then stamping his foot, caused all the toads to sink into the earth in an instant. The place being thus cleared, preparations were made for the banquet, where all manner of disgusting things were served up and greedily devoured by the demons and witches, although the latter were sometimes regaled with choice meats and expensive wines, from golden plates and crystal goblets; but they were never thus favoured unless they had done an extraordinary number of evil deeds since the last period of meeting. After the feast, they began dancing again; but such as had no relish for any more exercise in that way, amused themselves by mocking the holy sacrament of baptism. For this purpose the toads were again called up, and sprinkled with filthy water, the devil making the sign of the cross, and all the witches calling out--[some gibberish]. When the devil wished to be particularly amused, he made the witches strip off their clothes and dance before him, each with a cat tied round her neck, and another dangling from her body in form of a tail. When the cock crew they all disappeared, and the sabbath was ended. This is a summary of the belief that prevailed for many centuries nearly all over Europe, and which is far from eradicated even at this day.'--_Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions_, by C. Mackay. A mock sermon often concludes the night's proceedings, the ordinary salutation of the _osculum in tergo_ being first given. But these circumstances are innocent compared with the obscene practices when the lights are put out; indiscriminate debauchery being then the order of the night. A new rite of baptism initiated the neophyte into his new service: the candidate being signed with the sign of the devil on that part of the body least observable, and submitting at the same time to the first act of criminal compliance, to be often repeated. On these occasions the demon presents himself in the form of either sex, according to that of his slaves. It was elicited from a witch examined at a trial that, from the period of her servitude, the devil had had intercourse with her _ut viri cum f[oe]minis solent_, excepting only in one remarkable particular. During the pontificate of Julius II.--the first decade of the sixteenth century--a set of sorceresses was discovered in large numbers: a dispute between the civil and ecclesiastical authorities averted their otherwise certain destruction. The successors of Innocent VIII. repeated his anathemas. Alexander VI., Leo X., and Adrian VI. appointed special commissioners for hunting up sorcerers and heretics. In 1523, Adrian issued a bull against _Hæresis Strigiatûs_ with power to excommunicate all who opposed those engaged in the inquisition. He characterises the obnoxious class as a sect deviating from the Catholic faith, denying their baptism, showing contempt for the sacraments, in particular for that of the Eucharist, treading crosses under foot, and taking the devil as their lord.[93] How many suffered for the crime during the thirty or forty years following upon the bull of 1484, it is difficult exactly to ascertain: that some thousands perished is certain, on the testimony of the judges themselves. The often-quoted words of Florimond, author of a work 'On Antichrist,' as given by Del Rio the Jesuit ('De Magiâ'), are not hyperbolical. 'All those,' says he, 'who have afforded us some signs of the approach of antichrist agree that the increase of sorcery and witchcraft is to distinguish the melancholy period of his advent; and was ever age so afflicted with them as ours? The seats destined for criminals before our judicatories are blackened with persons accused of this guilt. There are not judges enough to try enough. Our dungeons are gorged with them. No day passes that we do not render our tribunals bloody by the dooms we pronounce, or in which we do not return to our homes discountenanced and terrified at the horrible contents of the confessions which it has been our duty to hear. And the devil is accounted so good a master that we cannot commit so great a number of his slaves to the flames but what there shall arise from their ashes a number sufficient to supply their place.' [93] Francis Hutchison's _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_, chap. xiv.; the author quotes Barthol. de Spina, _de Strigibus_. It is within neither the design nor the limits of these pages to repeat all the witch-cases, which might fill several volumes; it is sufficient for the purpose to sketch a few of the most notorious and prominent, and to notice the most remarkable characteristics of the creed. Maximilian I., Emperor of Germany, protected the inquisitorial executioners from the indignant vengeance of the inhabitants of the districts of Southern Germany, which would have been soon almost depopulated by an unsparing massacre and a ferocious zeal: while Sigismund, Prince of the Tyrol, is said to have been inclined to soften the severity of a persecution he was totally unable, if he had been disposed, to prevent. Ulric Molitor, under the auspices of this prince, however, published a treatise in Switzerland ('De Pythonicis Mulieribus') in the form of a dialogue, in which Sigismund, Molitor, and a citizen of Constance are the interlocutors. They argue as to the practice of witchcraft; and the argument is to establish that, although the practicers of the crime are worthy of death, much of the vulgar opinion on the subject is false. Even in the middle of the fifteenth century, and in Spain, could be found an assertor, in some degree, of common sense, whose sentiments might scandalise some Protestant divines. Alphonse de Spina was a native of Castile, of the order of St. Francis: his book was written against heretics and unbelievers, but there is a chapter in which some acts attributed to sorcerers, as transportation through the air, transformations, &c., are rejected as unreal. From that time two parties were in existence, one of which advocated the entire reality of all the acts commonly imputed to witches; while the other maintained that many of their supposed crimes were mere delusions suggested by the Great Enemy. The former, as the orthodox party, were, from the nature of the case, most successful in the argument--a seeming paradox explained by the nature and course of the controversy. Only the _received_ method of demoniacal possession was questioned by the adverse side, accepting without doubt the possibility--and, indeed, the actual existence--of the phenomenon. Thus the liberals, or pseudo-liberals, in that important controversy were placed in an illogical position. For (as their opponents might triumphantly argue) if the devil's power and possession could be manifested in one way, why not by any other method. Nor was it for them to determine the appointed methods of his schemes, as permitted by Providence, for the injury and ruin of mankind. The diabolic economy, as evidently set forth in the work of man's destruction, might require certain modes of acting quite above our reason and understanding. To the sceptics (or to the _atheists_, as they were termed) the orthodox could allege, 'Will you not believe in witches? The Scriptures aver their existence: to the jurisconsults will you dispute the existence of a crime against which our statute-book and the code of almost all civilised countries have attested by laws upon which hundreds and thousands have been convicted; many, or even most, of whom have, by their judicial confessions, acknowledged their guilt and the justice of their punishment? It is a strange scepticism, they might add, that rejects the evidence of Scripture, of human legislature, and of the accused persons themselves.'[94] Reason was hopelessly oppressed by faith. In the presence of universal superstition, in the absence of the modern philosophy, escape seemed all but impossible. [94] Sir W. Scott's _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, chap. vi. If preeminence in this particular prejudice can be assigned to any single region or people, perhaps Germany more than any other land was subject to the demonological fever. A fact to be explained as well by its being the great theatre for more than a hundred years of the grand religious struggle between the opposing Catholics and Protestants, as by its natural fitness. The gloomy mountain ranges--the Hartz mountains are especially famous in the national legend--and forests with which it abounds rendered the imaginative minds of its peoples peculiarly susceptible to impressions of supernaturalism.[95] France takes the next place in the fury of the persecution. Danæus ('Dialogue') speaks of an innumerable number of witches. England, Scotland, Spain, Italy perhaps come next in order. [95] How greatly the imagination of the Germans was attracted by the supernatural and the marvellous is plainly seen both in the old national poems and in the great work of the national mythologist, Jacob Grimm (_Deutsche Mythologie_). Spain, the dominion of the Arabs for seven centuries, was naturally the land of magic. During the government of Ferdinand I., or of Isabella, the inquisition was firmly established. That numbers were sent from the dungeons and torture-chambers to the stake, with the added stigma of dealing in the 'black art,' is certain; but in that priest-dominated, servilely orthodox southern land, the Church was not perhaps so much interested in confounding the crimes of heresy and sorcery. The first was simply sufficient for provoking horror and hatred of the condemned. The South of France is famous for being the very nest of sorcery: the witch-sabbaths were frequently held there. It was the country of the Albigenses, which had been devastated by De Montfort, the executioner of Catholic vengeance, in the twelfth century, and was, with something of the same sort of savageness, ravaged by De Lanere in the seventeenth century. Scotland, before the religious revolution, exhibits a few remarkable cases of witch-persecution, as that of the Earl of Mar, brother of James III. He had been suspected of calling in the aid of sorcery to ascertain the term of the king's life: the earl was bled to death without trial, and his death was followed by the burning of twelve witches, and four wizards, at Edinburgh. Lady Glammis, sister of the Earl of Angus, of the family of Douglas, accused of conspiring the king's death in a similar way, was put to death in 1537. As in England, in the cases of the Duchess of Gloucester and others, the crime appears to be rather an adjunct than the principal charge itself; more political than popular. Protestant Scotland it is that has earned the reputation of being one of the most superstitious countries in Europe. In 1541 two Acts of Parliament were passed in England--the first interference of Parliament in this kingdom--against false prophecies, conjurations, witchcraft, sorcery, pulling down crosses; crimes made felony without benefit of clergy. Both the last article in the list and the period (a few years after the separation from the Catholic world) appear to indicate the causes in operation. Lord Hungerford had recently been beheaded by the suspicious tyranny of Henry VIII., for consulting his death by conjuration. The preamble to the statute has these words: 'The persons that had done these things, had dug up and pulled down an infinite number of crosses.'[96] The new head of the English Church, if he found his interest in assuming himself the spiritual supremacy, was, like a true despot, averse to any further revolution than was necessary to his purposes. Some superstitious regrets too for the old establishment which, by a fortunate caprice, he abandoned and afterwards plundered, may have urged the tyrant, who persecuted the Catholics for questioning his supremacy, to burn the enemies of transubstantiation. Shortly before this enactment, eight persons had been hanged at Tyburn, not so much for sorcery as for a disagreeable prophecy. Elizabeth Barton, the principal, had been instigated to pronounce as revelation, that if the king went on in the divorce and married another wife, he should not be king a month longer, and in the estimation of Almighty God not one hour longer, but should die a villain's death. The Maid of Kent, with her accomplices--Richard Martin, parson of the parish of Aldington; Dr. Bocking, canon of Christ Church, Canterbury; Deering; Henry Gold, a parson in London; Hugh Rich, a friar, and others--was brought before the Star Chamber, and adjudged to stand in St. Paul's during sermon-time; the majority being afterwards executed. In Cranmer's 'Articles of Visitation,' 1549, an injunction is addressed to his clergy, that 'you shall inquire whether you know of any that use charms, sorcery, enchantments, witchcrafts, soothsaying, or any like craft, invented by the devil.' [96] Hutchison's _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_. The author, chaplain in ordinary to George I., published his book in 1718. It is worth while to note the colder scepticism of the Hanoverian chaplain as compared with the undoubting faith of his predecessor, Dr. Glanvil. During the brief reigns of Edward VI. and Mary I. in England, no conspicuous trials occur. As for the latter monarch, the queen and her bishops were too absorbed in the pressing business of burning for the real offence of heresy to be much concerned in discovering the concomitant crimes of devil-worship.[97] An impartial judgment may decide that superstition, whether engaged in vindicating the dogmas of Catholicism or those of witchcraft, is alike contemptible and pernicious. [97] Agreeably to that common prejudice which selects certain historical personages for popular and peculiar esteem or execration, and attributes to them, as if they were eccentricities rather than examples of the age, every exceptional virtue or vice, the 'Bloody Queen' has been stigmatised, and is still regarded, as an _extraordinary_ monster, capable of every inhuman crime--a prejudice more popular than philosophical, since experience has taught that despots, unchecked by fear, by reason, or conscience, are but examples, in an eminent degree, of the character, and personifications of the worst vices (if not of the best virtues) of their time. Considered in this view, Mary I. will but appear the example and personification of the religious intolerance of Catholicism and of the age, just as Cromwell was of the patriotic and Puritanic sentiment of the first half, or Charles II. of the unblushing licentiousness of the last half, of the seventeenth century. In the year of Elizabeth's accession, 1558, Strype ('Annals of the Reformation,' i. 8, and ii. 545) tells that Bishop Jewell, preaching before the queen, animadverted upon the dangerous and direful results of witchcraft. 'It may please your Grace,' proclaims publicly the courtly Anglican prelate, 'to understand that witches and sorcerers, within these last few years, are marvellously increased within your Grace's realm. Your Grace's subjects pine away even to the death, their colour fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft. I pray God they never practise further than upon the subject.' For himself, the bishop declares, 'these eyes have seen most evident and manifest marks of their wickedness.' The annalist adds that this, no doubt, was the occasion of bringing in a bill the next Parliament, for making enchantments and witchcraft felony; and, under year 1578, we are informed that, whether it were the effect of magic, or proceeded from some natural cause, the queen was in some part of this year under excessive anguish _by pains of her teeth_, insomuch that she took no rest for divers nights, and endured very great torment night and day. The statute of 1562 includes 'fond and fantastic prophecies' (a very common sort of political offences in that age) in the category of forbidden arts. With unaccustomed lenity it punished a first conviction with the pillory only. Witch-persecutions (which needed not any legal enactment) sprung up in different parts of the country; but they were not carried out with either the frequency or the ferocity of the next age, or as in Scotland, under the superintendence of James VI. A number of pamphlets unnecessarily enforced the obligatory duty of unwearied zeal in the work of discovery and extermination.[98] Among the executions under Elizabeth's Government are specially noticed that of a woman hanged at Barking in 1575; of four at Abingdon; three at Chelmsford; two at Cambridge, 1579; of a number condemned at St. Osythes; of several in Derbyshire and Staffordshire. One of the best known is the case at Warboys, in Huntingdonshire, 1593. [98] One of these productions, printed in London, bore the sensational title, 'A very Wonderful and Strange Miracle of God, shewed upon a Dutchman, of the age of 23 years, who was possessed of ten devils, and was, by God's Mighty Providence, dispossessed of them again the 27 January last past, 1572.' Another, dedicated to Lord Darcy, by W. W., 1582, sets forth that all those tortures in common use 'are far too light, and their rigour too mild; and in this respect he (the pamphleteer) impudently exclaimeth against our magistrates who suffer them to be but hanged, when _murtherers and such malefactors be so used, which deserve not the hundredth part of their punishment_.' The author of the 'Discoverie' relates a fact that came under his personal observation: it is a fair example of the trivial origin and of the facility of this sort of charges. 'At the assizes holden at Rochester, anno 1581, one Margaret Simons, wife of John Simons, of Brenchly in Kent, was arraigned for witchcraft, at the instigation and complaint of divers fond and malicious persons, and especially by the means of one John Farral, vicar of that parish, with whom I talked about the matter, and found him both fondly assotted in the cause and enviously bent towards her: and, which is worse, as unable to make a good account of his faith as she whom he accused. That which he laid to the poor woman's charge was this. His son, being an ungracious boy, and 'prentice to one Robert Scotchford, clothier, dwelling in that parish of Brenchly, passed on a day by her house; at whom, by chance, her little dog barked, which thing the boy taking in evil part, drew his knife and pursued him therewith even to her door, whom she rebuked with such words as the boy disdained, and yet nevertheless would not be persuaded to depart in a long time. At the last he returned to his master's house, and within five or six days fell sick. Then was called to mind the fray betwixt the dog and the boy: insomuch as the vicar (who thought himself so privileged as he little mistrusted that God would visit his children with sickness) did so calculate as he found, partly through his own judgment and partly (as he himself told me) by the relation of other witches, that his said son was by her bewitched. Yea, he told me that his son being, as it were, past all cure, received perfect health at the hands of another witch.' Not satisfied with this accusation, the vicar 'proceeded yet further against her, affirming that always in his parish church, when he desired to read most plainly his voice so failed him that he could scant be heard at all: which he could impute, he said, to nothing else but to her enchantment. When I advertised the poor woman thereof, as being desirous to hear what she could say for herself, she told me that in very deed his voice did fail him, specially when he strained himself to speak loudest. Howbeit, she said, that at all times his voice was hoarse and low; which thing I perceived to be true. But sir, said she, you shall understand that this our vicar is diseased with such a kind of hoarseness as divers of our neighbours in this parish not long ago doubted ... and in that respect utterly refused to communicate with him until such time as (being thereunto enjoined by the ordinary) he had brought from London a certificate under the hands of two physicians that his hoarseness proceeded from a disease of the lungs; which certificate he published in the church, in the presence of the whole congregation: and by this means he was cured, or rather excused of the shame of the disease. And this,' certifies the narrator, 'I know to be true, by the relation of divers honest men of that parish. And truly if one of the jury had not been wiser than the others, she had been condemned thereupon, and upon other as ridiculous matters as this. For the name of witch is so odious, and her power so feared among the common people, that if the honestest body living chanced to be arraigned thereupon, she shall hardly escape condemnation.' CHAPTER III. The 'Discoverie of Witchcraft,' published 1584--Wier's 'De Præstigiis Dæmonum, &c.'--Naudé--Jean Bodin--His 'De la Démonomanie des Sorciers,' published at Paris, 1580--His authority--Nider--Witch-case at Warboys--Evidence adduced at the Trial--Remarkable as being the origin of the institution of an Annual Sermon at Huntingdon. Three years after this affair, Dr. Reginald Scot published his 'Discoverie of Witchcraft, proving that common opinions of witches contracting with devils, spirits, or their familiars, and their power to kill, torment, and consume the bodies of men, women, and children, or other creatures, by disease, or otherwise, their flying in the air, &c., to be but imaginary, erroneous conceptions and novelties: wherein also the lewd, unchristian, practices of witchmongers upon aged, melancholy, ignorant, and superstitious people, in extorting confessions by inhuman terrors and tortures, is notably detected.'[99] [99] The edition referred to is that of 1654. The author is commemorated by Hallam in terms of high praise--'A solid and learned person, beyond almost all the English of that age.'--_Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Centuries._ This work is divided into sixteen books, with a treatise affixed upon devils and spirits, in thirty-four chapters. It contains an infinity of quotations from or references to the writings of those whom the author terms _witch-mongers_; and several chapters are devoted to a descriptive catalogue of the charms in repute and diabolical rites of the most extravagant sort. On the accession of James I., whose 'Demonologie' was in direct opposition to the 'Discoverie,' it was condemned as monstrously heretical; as many copies as could be collected being solemnly committed to the flames. This meritorious and curious production is therefore now scarce. Prefixed is a dedicatory epistle, addressed to the Right Worshipful, his loving friend, Mr. Dr. Coldwell, Dean of Rochester, and Mr. Dr. Readman, Archdeacon of Canterbury, in which the author appealingly expostulates, 'O Master Archdeacon, is it not pity that that which is said to be done with the almighty power of the Most High God, and by our Saviour his only Son Jesus Christ our Lord, should be referred to a baggage old woman's nod or wish? Good sir, is it not one manifest kind of idolatry for them that labour and are laden to come unto witches to be refreshed? If witches could help whom they are said to have made sick, I see no reason but remedy might as well be required at their hands as a purse demanded of him that hath stolen it. But truly it is manifest idolatry to ask that of a creature which none can give but the Creator. The papist hath some colour of Scripture to maintain his idol of bread, but no Jesuitical distinction can cover the witchmongers' idolatry in this behalf. Alas! I am ashamed and sorry to see how many die that, being said to be bewitched, only seek for magical cures whom wholesome diet and good medicine would have recovered.'[100] An utterance of courage and common sense equally rare and useless. Reginald Scot, perhaps the boldest of the early impugners of witchcraft, was yet convinced apparently of the reality of ghostly apparitions. [100] Writing in an age when the _magical_ powers of steam and electricity were yet undiscovered, it might be a forcible argument to put--'Good Mr. Dean, is it possible for a man to break his fast with you at Rochester, and to dine that day in Durham with Master Dr. Matthew?' Johannes Wierus, physician to the Duke of Cleves, and a disciple of the well-known Cornelius Agrippa (himself accused of devotion to the black art), in 1563 created considerable sensation by an attack upon the common opinions, without questioning however the principles, of the superstition in his 'De Præstigiis Dæmonum Incantationibus et Veneficiis.' His common sense is not so clear as that of the Englishman. Another name, memorable among the advocates of Reason and Humanity, is Gabriel Naudé. He was born at Paris in 1600; he practised as a physician of great reputation, and was librarian successively to Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin, and to Queen Christina of Sweden. His book 'Apologie pour les Grands Hommes accusés de Magie,' published in Paris in 1625, was received with great indignation by the Church. Some others, both on the Continent and in England, at intervals by their protests served to prove that a few sparks of reason, hard to be discovered in the thick darkness of superstition, remained unextinguished; but they availed not to stem the torrent of increasing violence and volume. A more copious list can be given of the champions of orthodoxy and demonolatry; of whom it is sufficient to enumerate the more notorious names--Sprenger, Nider, Bodin, Del Rio, James VI., Glanvil, who compiled or composed elaborate treatises on the subject; besides whom a cloud of witnesses expressly or incidentally proclaimed the undoubted genuineness of all the acts, phenomena, and circumstances of the diabolic worship; loudly and fiercely denouncing the 'damnable infidelity' of the dissenters--a proof in itself of their own complicity. Jean Bodin, a French lawyer, and author of the esteemed treatise 'De la République,' was one of the greatest authorities on the orthodox side. His publication 'De la Démonomanie des Sorciers' appeared in Paris in the year 1580: an undertaking prompted by his having witnessed some of the daily occurring trials. Instead of being convinced of their folly, he was or affected to be, certain of their truth, setting himself gravely to the task of publishing to the world his own observations and convictions. One of the most surprising facts in the whole history of witchcraft is the insensibility or indifference of even men of science, and therefore observation, to the obvious origin of the greatest part of the confessions elicited; confession of such a kind as could be the product only of torture, madness, or some other equally obvious cause. Bodin himself, however, sufficiently explains the fact and exposes the secret. 'The trial of this offence,' he enunciates, 'must not be conducted like other crimes. Whoever adheres to the ordinary course of justice perverts the spirit of the law both divine and human. He who is accused of sorcery should _never_ be acquitted unless the malice of the prosecutor be clearer than the sun; for it is so difficult to bring full proof of this secret crime, that out of a million of witches _not one would be convicted if the usual course were followed_.'[101] He speaks of an old woman sentenced to the stake after confessing to having been transported to the sabbath in a state of insensibility. Her judges, anxious to know how this was effected, released her from her fetters, when she rubbed herself on the different parts of her body with a prepared unguent and soon became insensible, stiff, and apparently dead. Having remained in that condition for five hours, the witch as suddenly revived, relating to the trembling inquisitors a number of extraordinary things proving she must have been _spiritually_ transported to distant places.[102] An earlier advocate of the orthodox cause was a Swiss friar, Nider, who wrote a work entitled 'Formicarium' (_Ant-Hill_) on the various sins against religion. One section is employed in the consideration of sorcery. Nider was one of the inquisitors who distinguished themselves by their successful zeal in the beginning of the century. [101] Yet the lawyer who enunciated such a maxim as this has been celebrated for an unusual liberality of sentiment in religious and political matters, as well as for his learning. Dugald Stewart commends 'the liberal and moderate views of this philosophical politician,' as shown in the treatise _De la République_, and states that he knows of 'no political writer of the same date whose extensive, and various, and discriminating reading appears to me to have contributed more to facilitate and to guide the researches of his successors, or whose references to ancient learning have been more frequently transcribed without acknowledgment.'--Bayle considered him 'one of the ablest men that appeared in France during the sixteenth century.'--_Dissertation First_ in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. Hallam (_Introduction to the Literature of Europe_) occupies several of his pages in the review of Bodin's writings. Jean Bodin, however, on the authority of his friend De Thou, did not escape suspicion himself of being heretical. [102] In witchcraft (as in the sacramental mystery) it was a subject for much doubt and dispute whether there might not be simply a _spiritual_ (without a _real corporeal_) presence at the sabbath. Each one decided according to the degree of his orthodoxy. The Swiss witches, like the old Italian larvæ and most of the sisterhood, display extraordinary affection for the blood of new-born unbaptized infants; and it is a great desideratum to kill them before the preventive rite has been irrevocably administered; for the bodies of unbaptized children were almost indispensable in the witches' preparations. Soon as buried their corpses are dug out of their graves and carried away to the place of assembly, where they are boiled down for the fat for making the ointments.[103] The liquid in which they are boiled is carefully preserved; and the person who tastes it is immediately initiated into all the mysteries of sorcery. A witch, judicially examined by the papal commission which compiled the 'Malleus,' gives evidence of the prevalence of this practice: 'We lie in wait for children. These are often found dead by their parents; and the simple people believe that they have themselves overlain them, or that they died from natural causes; but it is we who have destroyed them. We steal them out of the grave, and boil them with lime till all the flesh is loosed from the bones and is reduced to one mass. We make of the firm part an ointment, and fill a bottle with the fluid; and whoever drinks with due ceremonies of this belongs to our league, and is already capable of bewitching.' 'Finger of birth-strangled babe' is one of the ingredients of that widely-collected composition of the Macbeth witches. [103] A practice not entirely out of repute at the present day if we may credit a statement in the _Courrier du Hâvre_ (as quoted in _The Times_ newspaper, Nov. 7, 1864), that recently the corpse of an old woman was dug up for the purpose of obtaining the fat, &c., as a preventive charm against witchcraft, by a person living in the neighbourhood of Hâvre. The case at Warboys, which, connected with a family of some distinction, occasioned unusual interest, was tried in the year 1593. The village of Warboys, or Warbois, is situated in the neighbourhood of Huntingdon. One of the most influential of the inhabitants was a gentleman of respectability, Robert Throgmorton, who was on friendly terms with the Cromwells of Hitchinbrook, and the lord of the manor, Sir Henry Cromwell. Three criminals--old Samuel, his wife, and Agnes Samuel their daughter, were tried and condemned by Mr. Justice Fenner for bewitching Mr. Throgmorton's five children, seven servants, the Lady Cromwell, and others. The father and daughter maintained their innocence to the last; the old woman confessed. A fact which makes this affair more remarkable is, that with the forty pounds escheated to him, as lord of the manor, out of the property of the convicts, Sir Samuel Cromwell founded an annual sermon or lecture upon the sin of witchcraft, to be preached at their town every Lady-day, by a Doctor or Bachelor of Divinity of Queen's College, Cambridge; the sum of forty pounds being entrusted to the Mayor and Aldermen of Huntingdon, for a rent-charge of forty shillings yearly to be paid to the select preacher. This lecture, says Dr. Francis Hutchison, is continued to this day--1718. Four years previously to this important trial, Jane Throgmorton, a girl ten years of age, was first suddenly attacked with strange convulsive fits, which continued daily, and even several times in the day, without intermission. One day, soon after the first seizure, Mother Samuel coming into the Throgmortons' house, seated herself as customary in a chimney-corner near the child, who was just recovering from one of her fits. The girl no sooner noticed her than she began to cry out, pointing to the old woman, 'Did you ever see one more like a witch than she is? Take off her black-thumbed cap, for I cannot abide to look at her.' The illness becoming worse, they sent to Cambridge to consult Dr. Barrow, an experienced physician in that town; but he could discover no natural disease. A month later, the other children were similarly seized, and persuaded of Mother Samuel's guilt. The parents' increasing suspicions, entertained by the doctors, were confirmed when the servants were also attacked. About the middle of March, 1590, Lady Cromwell arrived on a visit to the Throgmortons; and being much affected at the sufferings of the patients, sent for the suspected person, whom she charged with being the malicious cause. Finding all entreaty of no avail in extorting an admission of guilt, Lady Cromwell suddenly and unexpectedly cut off a lock of the witch's hair (a powerful counter-charm), at the same time secretly placing it in Mrs. Throgmorton's hands, desiring her to burn it. Indignant, the accused addressed the lady, 'Madam, why do you use me thus? I never did you any harm _as yet_'--words afterwards recollected. 'That night,' says the narrative, 'my lady Cromwell was suddenly troubled in her sleep by a cat which Mother S. had sent her, which offered to pluck the skin and flesh off her bones and arms. The struggle betwixt the cat and the lady was so great in her bed that night, and she made so terrible a noise, that she waked her bedfellow Mrs. C.' Whether, 'as some sager' might think, it was a nightmare (a sort of incubus which terrified the disordered imagination of the ancients), or some more substantial object that disturbed the rest of the lady, it is not important to decide; but next day Lady Cromwell was laid up with an incurable illness. Holding out obstinately against all threats and promises, the reputed witch was at length induced to pronounce an exorcism, when the afflicted were immediately for the time dispossessed. 'Next day being Christmas-eve and the Sabbath, Dr. Donington [vicar of the parish] chose his text of repentance out of the _Psalms_, and communicating her confession to the assembly, directed his discourse chiefly to that purpose to comfort a penitent heart that it might affect her. All sermon-time Mother S. wept and lamented, and was frequently so loud in her passions, that she drew the eyes of the congregation upon her.' On the morrow, greatly to the disappointment of the neighbours, she contradicted her former confession, declaring it was extracted by surprise at finding her exorcism had relieved the child, unconscious of what she was saying. The case was afterwards carried before the Bishop of Lincoln. Now greatly alarmed, the old woman made a fresh announcement that she was really a witch; that she owned several spirits (of the nine may be enumerated the fantastic names of Pluck, Hardname, Catch, Smack, Blew), one of whom was used to appear in the shape of a chicken, and suck her chin. The mother and daughters were, upon this voluntary admission, committed to Huntingdon gaol. Of the possessed Jane Throgmorton seems to have been most familiar with the demons.[104] [104] The following ravings of epilepsy, or of whatever was the disorder of the girl, are part of the evidence of Dr. Donington, clergyman in the town, and were narrated and could be received as grave evidence in a court of justice. They will serve as a specimen of the rest. The girl and the spirit known as _Catch_ are engaged in the little by-play. 'After supper, as soon as her parents were risen, she fell into the same fit again as before, and then became senseless, and in a little time, opening her mouth, she said, "Will this hold for ever? I hope it will be better one day. From whence come you now, Catch, limping? I hope you have met with your match." Catch answered that Smack and he had been fighting, and that Smack had broken his leg. Said she, "That Smack is a shrewd fellow; methinks I would I could see him. Pluck came last night with his head broke, and now you have broken your leg. I hope he will break both your necks before he hath done with you." Catch answered that he would be even with him before he had done. Then, said she, "Put forth your other leg, and let me see if I can break that," having a stick in her hand. The spirit told her she could not hit him. "Can I not hit you?" said she; "let me try." Then the spirit put forth his leg, and she lifted up the stick easily, and suddenly struck the ground.... So she seemed divers times to strike at the spirit; but he leaped over the stick, as she said, like a Jackanapes. So after many such tricks the spirit went away, and she came out of her fit, continuing all that night and the next day very sick and full of pain in her legs.' The sessions at Huntingdon began April 4, 1593, when the three Samuels were arraigned; and the above charges, with much more of the same sort, were repeated: the indictments specifying the particular offences against the children and servants of the Throgmortons, and the 'bewitching unto death' of the lady Cromwell. The grand jury found a true bill immediately, and they were put upon their trial in court. After a mass of nonsense had been gone through, 'the judge, justices, and jury said the case was apparent, and their consciences were well satisfied that the said witches were guilty, and deserved death.' When sentence of death was pronounced, the old woman, sixty years of age, pleaded, in arrest of judgment, that she was with child--a pleading which produced only a derisive shout of laughter in court. Husband and daughter asserted their innocence to the last. All three were hanged. From the moment of execution, we are assured, Robert Throgmorton's children were permanently freed from all their sufferings. Such, briefly, are the circumstances of a witch case that resulted in the sending to the gallows three harmless wretches, and in the founding an annual sermon which perpetuated the memory of an iniquitous act and of an impossible crime. The sermon, it may be presumed, like other similar surviving institutions, was preserved in the eighteenth century more for the benefit of the select preacher than for that of the people. CHAPTER IV. Astrology in Antiquity--Modern Astrology and Alchymy--Torralvo--Adventures of Dr. Dee and Edward Kelly--Prospero and Comus Types respectively of the Theurgic and Goetic Arts--Magicians on the Stage in the 16th century--Occult Science in Southern Europe--Causes of the inevitable mistakes of the pre-Scientific Ages. The nobler arts of magic, astrology, alchymy, necromancy, &c., were equally in vogue in this age with that of the infernal art proper. But they were more respected. Professors of those arts were habitually sought for with great eagerness by the highest personages, and often munificently rewarded. In antiquity astrology had been peculiarly Oriental in its origin and practice. The Egyptians, and especially the Chaldæans, introduced the foreign art to the West among the Greeks and Italians; the Arabs revived it in Western Europe in the Middle Age. Under the early Roman Empire the Chaldaic art exercised and enjoyed considerable influence and reputation, if it was often subject to sudden persecutions. Augustus was assisted to the throne, and Severus selected his wife, by its means. After it had once firmly established itself in the West,[105] the Oriental astrology was soon developed and reduced to a more regular system; and in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries Dee and Lilly enjoyed a greater reputation than even Figulus or Thrasyllus had obtained in the first century. Queen Elizabeth and Catherine di Medici (two of the astutest persons of their age) patronised them. Dr. Dee in England, and Nostradamus in France, were of this class. Dr. Caius, third founder of a college still bearing his name in the university of Cambridge, Kelly, Ashmole, and Lilly, are well-known names in the astrological history of this period. Torralvo, whose fame as an aerial voyager is immortalised by Cervantes in 'Don Quixote,' was as great a magician in Spain and Italy as Dee in England, although not so familiar to English readers as their countryman, the protégé of Elizabeth. Neither was his magical faculty so well rewarded. Dr. Torralvo, a physician, had studied medicine and philosophy with extraordinary success, and was high in the confidence of many of the eminent personages of Spain and Italy, for whom he fortunately predicted future success. A confirmed infidel or freethinker, he was denounced to the Inquisition by the treachery of an associate as denying or disputing the immortality of the soul, as well as the divinity of Christ. This was in 1529. Torralvo, put to the torture, admitted that his informing spirit, Zequiel, was a demon by whose assistance he performed his aerial journeys and all his extraordinary feats, both of prophecy and of actual power. Some part of the severity of the tortures was remitted by the demon's opportune reply to the curiosity of the presiding inquisitors, that Luther and the Reformers were bad and cunning men. Torralvo seems to have avoided the extreme penalty of fire by recanting his heresies, submitting to the superior judgment of his gaolers, and still more by the interest of his powerful employers; and he was liberated not long afterwards. [105] The diffusion and progress of astrology in the last two centuries before the Empire, in Greece and Italy, was favoured chiefly by the four following causes: its resemblance to the meteorological astrology of the Greeks; the belief in the conversion of the souls of men into stars; the cessation of the oracles; the belief in a tutelary genius.--Sir G. C. Lewis's _Historical Survey of the Astronomy of the Ancients_, chap. v. The life of Dr. Dee, an eminent Cambridge mathematician, and of his associate Edward Kelly, forms a curious biography. Dee was born in 1527. He studied at the English and foreign universities with great success and applause; and while the Princess Elizabeth was quite young he acquired her friendship, maintained by frequent correspondence, and on her succession to the throne the queen showed her good will in a conspicuous manner. John Dee left to posterity a diary in which he has inserted a regular account of his conjurations, prophetic intimations, and magical resources. Notwithstanding his mathematical acumen, he was the dupe of his cunning subordinate--more of a knave, probably, than his master. In 1583 a Polish prince, Albert Laski, visiting the English court, frequented the society of the renowned astrologer, by whom he was initiated in the secrets of the art; and predicted to be the future means of an important revolution in Europe. The astrologers wandered over all Germany, at one time favourably received by the credulity, at another time ignominiously ejected by the indignant disappointment, of a patron.[106] Dee returned to England in 1589, and was finally appointed to the wardenship of the college at Manchester. In James's reign he was well received at Court, his reputation as a magician increasing; and in 1604 he is found presenting a petition to the king, imploring his good offices in dispelling the injurious imputation of being 'a conjuror, or caller, or invocator of devils.' Lilly, the most celebrated magician of the seventeenth century in England, was in the highest repute during the civil wars: his prophetic services were sought with equal anxiety by royalists and patriots, by king and parliament.[107] Sometimes the professor of the occult science may have been his own dupe: oftener he imposed and speculated upon the credulity of others. [106] While traversing Bohemia, on a particular occasion, it was revealed to be God's pleasure that the two friends should have a community of wives; a little episode noted in Dee's journal. 'On Sunday, May 3, 1587, I, John Dee, Edward Kelly, and our two wives, covenanted with God, and subscribed the same for indissoluble unities, charity, and friendship keeping between us four, and all things between us to be common, as God by sundry means willed us to do.' A sort of inspiration of frequent occurrence in religious revelations, from the times of the Arabian to those of the American prophet. [107] William Lilly wrote a History of his own life and times. His adroitness in accommodating his prophecies to the alternating chances of the war does him considerable credit as a prophet. Prospero is the type of the Theurgic, as Comus is of the Goetic, magician. His spiritual minister belongs to the order of good, or at least middle spirits-- 'Too black for heav'n, and yet too white for hell.'[108] [108] Released by his new lord from the sorceric spell of that 'damn'd witch Sycorax,' he comes gratefully, if somewhat weariedly, to answer his 'blest pleasure; be't to fly, to swim, to dive into the fire, to ride on the curl'd clouds,' &c. Prospero, by an irresistible magic, subdued to his service the reluctant Caliban, a monster 'got by the devil himself upon his wicked dam:' but that semi-demon is degraded into a mere beast of burden, brutal and savage, with little of the spiritual essence of his male parent. Comus, as represented in that most beautiful drama by the genius of Milton, is of the classic rather than Christian sort: he is the true son of Circe, using his mother's method of enchantment, transforming his unwary victims into the various forms or faces of the bestial herd. Like the island magician without his magical garment, the wicked enchanter without his wand loses his sorceric power; and-- 'Without his rod reversed, And backward mutters of dissevering power,' it is not possible to disenchant his spell-bound prisoners. In the sixteenth century many wonderful stories obtained of the tremendous feats of the magic art. Those that related the lives of Bacon, and of Faust (of German origin), were best known in England; and, in the dramatic form, were represented on the stage. The comedy of 'Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay,' and the tragedy of 'The Life and Death of Dr. Faustus,' are perhaps the most esteemed of the dramatic writings of the age which preceded the appearance of Shakspeare. In the latter Faustus makes a compact with the devil, by which a familiar spirit and a preternatural art are granted him for twenty-four years. At the end of this period his soul is to be the reward of the demons.[109] From the 'Faustus' of Christopher Marlow, Goethe has derived the name and idea of the most celebrated tragedy of our day. [109] Conscious of his approaching fate, the trembling magician replies to the anxious inquiries of his surrounding pupils--'"For the vain pleasure of four-and-twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and felicity. I writ them a bill with my own blood; the date is expired; this is the time, and he will fetch me." First Scholar--"Why did not Faustus tell us of this before, that divines might have prayed for thee?" Faust--"Oft have I thought to have done so; but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I named God; to fetch me body and soul if I once gave ear to divinity. And now it is too late."' As the fearful moment fast approaches, Dr. Faustus, orthodox on the subject of the duration of future punishment, exclaims in agony-- 'Oh! if my soul must suffer for my sin, Impose some end to my incessant pain. Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years-- A hundred thousand, and at the last be saved: No end is limited to damned souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Oh, why is this immortal that thou hast?' &c. Mephistopheles, it need hardly be added, was on this occasion true to his reputation for punctuality. _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ is remarked for being one of the last dramatic pieces in which the devil appears on the stage in his proper person--1591. It is also noticeable that he is the only Scripture character in the new form of the play retained from the _miracles_ which delighted the spectators in the fifteenth century, who were at once edified and gratified by the corporal chastisement inflicted upon his vicarious back. Magic and necromantic prowess was equally recognised in Southern Europe. The Italian poets employed such imposing paraphernalia in the construction of an epic; and Cervantes has ridiculed the prevailing belief of his countrymen.[110] [110] Benvenuto Cellini, the Florentine engraver, in his amusing _Autobiography_, astonishes his readers with some necromantic wonders of which he was an eyewitness. Cellini had become acquainted and enamoured with a beautiful Sicilian, from whom he was suddenly separated. He tells with his accustomed candour and confidence, 'I was then indulging myself in pleasures of all sorts, and engaged in another amour to cancel the memory of my Sicilian mistress. It happened, through a variety of odd accidents, that I made acquaintance with a Sicilian priest, who was a man of genius, and well versed in the Latin and Greek authors. Happening one day to have some conversation with him upon the art of necromancy, I, who had a great desire to know something of the matter, told him I had all my life felt a curiosity to be acquainted with the mysteries of this art. The priest made answer that the man must be of a resolute and steady temper who enters upon that study.' And so it should seem from the event. One night, Cellini, with a companion familiar with the Black Art, attended the priest to the Colosseum, where the latter, 'according to the custom of necromancy, began to draw marks upon the ground, with the most impressive ceremonies imaginable; he likewise brought thither _asaf[oe]tida, several precious perfumes and fire, with some compositions which diffused noisome odours_.' Although several legions of devils obeyed the summons of the conjurations or compositions, the sorceric rites were not attended with complete success. But on a succeeding night, 'the necromancer having begun to make his tremendous invocations, called by their names a multitude of demons who were the leaders of the several legions, and invoked them by the virtue and power of the eternal uncreated God, who lives for ever, insomuch that the amphitheatre was almost in an instant filled with demons a hundred times more numerous than at the former conjuration ... I, by the direction of the necromancer, again desired to be in the company of my Angelica. The former thereupon turning to me said, "Know that they have declared that in the space of a month you shall be in her company." He then requested me to stand resolutely by him, because the legion were now above a thousand more in number than he had designed; and besides, these were the most dangerous, so that after they had answered my question it behoved him to be civil to them and dismiss them quietly.' The infernal legions were more easily evoked than dismissed. He proceeds--'Though I was as much terrified as any of them, I did my utmost to conceal the terror I felt; so that I greatly contributed to inspire the rest with resolution. But the truth is,' ingenuously confesses the amorous artist, 'I gave myself over for a dead man, seeing the horrid fright the necromancer was in.'--_Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini_, chap. xiii., Roscoe's transl.--The information was verified, and Benvenuto enjoyed the society of his mistress at the time foretold. Alchymy, the science of the transformation of baser metals into gold, a pursuit which engaged the anxious thought and wasted the health, time, and fortunes of numbers of fanatical empirics, was one of the most prized of the abstruse _occult_ arts. Monarchs, princes, the great of all countries, eagerly vied among themselves in encouraging with promises and sometimes with more substantial incentives the zeal of their illusive search; and Henry IV. of France could see no reason why, if the bread and wine were transubstantiated so miraculously, a metal could not be transformed as well.[111] [111] The class of horoscopists (the old Chaldaic _genethliacs_), or those who predicted the fortunes of individuals by an examination of the planet which presided at the natal hour, was as much in vogue as that of any other of the masters of the occult arts; and La Fontaine, towards the end of the seventeenth century, apostrophises the class: 'Charlatans, faiseurs d'horoscope! Quittez les cours des princes de l'Europe; Emmenez avec vous les souffleurs tout d'un temps; Vous ne méritez pas plus de foi.'.... _Fables_, ii. 13. But it is only necessary to recollect the name of Cagliostro (Balsamo) and others who in the eighteenth century could successfully speculate upon the credulity of people of rank and education, to moderate our wonder at the success of earlier empirics. Among the eminent names of self-styled or reputed masters of the nobler or white magic, some, like the celebrated Paracelsus, were men of extraordinary attainments and largely acquainted with the secrets of natural science. A necessarily imperfect knowledge, a natural desire to impose upon the ignorant wonder of the vulgar, and the vanity of a learning which was ambitious of exhibiting, in the most imposing if less intelligible way, their superior knowledge, were probably the mixed causes which led such distinguished scholars as Paracelsus, Cornelius Agrippa, Cardan, and Campanella to oppress themselves and their readers with a mass of unintelligible rubbish and cabalistic mysticism.[112] Slow and gradual as are the successive advances in the knowledge and improvement of mankind, it would not be reasonable to be surprised that preceding generations could not at once attain to the knowledge of a maturer age; and the teachers of mankind groped their dark and uncertain way in ages destitute of the illumination of modern times.'[113] [112] 'Cardan believed great states depend Upon the tip o' th' Bear's tail's end,' correctly enough expresses both the persuasion of the public and that of many of the soi-disant philosophers of the intimate dependence of the fates of both states and individuals of this globe upon other globes in the universe. [113] It was not so much a want of sufficient observation of known facts, as the want of a true method and of verification, which rendered the investigations of the earlier philosophers so vague and uncertain. And the same causes which necessarily prevented Aristotle, the greatest intellect perhaps that has ever illuminated the world, from attaining to the greater perfection of the modern philosophy, are applicable, in a greater degree, to the case of the mediæval and later discoverers. The causes of the failure of the pre-scientific world are well stated by a living writer. 'Men cannot, or at least they will not, await the tardy results of discovery; they will not sit down in avowed ignorance. Imagination supplies the deficiencies of observation. A theoretic arch is thrown across the chasm, because men are unwilling to wait till a solid bridge be constructed.... The early thinkers, by reason of the very splendour of their capacities, were not less incompetent to follow the slow processes of scientific investigation, than a tribe of martial savages to adopt the strategy and discipline of modern armies. No accumulated laws, no well-tried methods existed for their aid. The elementary laws in each department were mostly undetected.' The guide of knowledge is verification. 'The complexity of phenomena is that of a labyrinth, the paths of which cross and recross each other; one wrong turn causes the wanderer infinite perplexity. Verification is the Ariadne-thread by which the real issues may be found. Unhappily, the process of verification is slow, tedious, often difficult and deceptive; and we are by nature lazy and impatient, hating labour, eager to obtain. Hence credulity. We accept facts without scrutiny, inductions without proof; and we yield to our disposition to believe that the order of phenomena must correspond with our conceptions.' A profound truth is contained in the assertion of Comte (_Cours de Philosophie Positive_) that 'men have still more need of method than of doctrine, of education than of instruction.'--_Aristotle_, by G. H. Lewes. CHAPTER V. Sorcery in Southern Europe--Cause of the Retention of the Demonological Creed among the Protestant Sects--Calvinists the most Fanatical of the Reformed Churches--Witch-Creed sanctioned in the Authorised Version of the Sacred Scriptures--The Witch-Act of 1604--James VI.'s 'Demonologie'--Lycanthropy and Executions in France--The French Provincial Parliaments active in passing Laws against the various Witch-practices--Witchcraft in the Pyrenees--Commission of Inquiry appointed--Its Results--Demonology in Spain. In the annals of black magic, the silent tribunals of the Inquisition in Southern Europe which has consigned so many thousands of heretics to the torture room and to the flames, do not reveal so many trials for the simple crime of witchcraft as the tribunals of the more northern peoples: there all dissent from Catholic and priestly dogma was believed to be inspired by the powers of hell, deserving a common punishment, whether in the form of denial of transubstantiation, infallibility, of skill in magic, or of the vulgar practice of sorcery. Throughout Europe penalties and prosecutions were being continually enacted. The popes in Italy fulminated abroad their decrees, and the parliaments of France were almost daily engaged in pronouncing sentence. Where the papal yoke had been thrown off in Northern Germany, in Scotland, and in England, the belief and the persecution remained in full force, indeed greatly increased; and it is obvious to inquire the cause of the retention, with many additions, of the doctrine of witchcraft by those who had at last finally rejected with scorn most of the grosser religious dogmas of the old Church, who were so loud in their just denunciation of Catholic tyranny and superstition. A general answer might be given that the Reformation of the sixteenth century, while it swept away in those countries in which it was effected the most injurious principles of ecclesiasticism, the principles of infallibility and authority in matters of faith, for the destruction of which gratitude is due to the independent minds of Luther, Zuinglius, and others, was yet far from complete in its negations. The leaders of that great revolution, with all their genius and boldness, could only partially free themselves from the prejudices of education and of the age. To develope the important principles they established, the rights of private judgment and religious freedom, was the legacy and duty of their successors; a duty which they failed to perform, to the incalculable misfortune of succeeding generations. The Sacred Scriptures, the common and only authority on faith among the different sections of Protestantism, unfortunately seemed to inculcate the dread power of the devil and his malicious purposes, and both the Jewish and Christian Scriptures apparently taught the reality of witchcraft. Theologians of all parties would have as easily dared to question the existence of God himself as to doubt the actual power of that other deity, and the unbelievers in his universal interference were not illogically stigmatised as atheists. With the Protestants some adventitious circumstances might make a particular church more fanatical and furious than another, and the Calvinists have deserved the palm for the bitterest persecution of witchcraft. But neither the Lutheran nor the Anglican section is exempt from the odious imputation.[114] [114] Lord Peter, and his humbler brothers Martin and Jack, in different degrees, are all of them obnoxious to the accusation; and Bossuet (_Variations des Eglises Protestantes_, xi. 201), who is assured that St. Paul predicted the 'doctrines of devils' to be characteristic of Manichæan and Albigensian heresy, might have more safely interpreted the prophecy as applicable to the universal Christian Church (at least of Western Europe) of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The followers of Calvin were most deeply imbued with hatred and horror of Catholic practices, and, adopting the old prejudice or policy of their antagonists, they were willing to confound the superstitious rites of Catholicism with those of demonolatry. The Anglican Church party, whose principles were not so entirely opposite to the old religion, had far less antipathy: until the revolution of 1688 it was for the most part engaged in contending against liberty rather than against despotism of conscience; against Calvinism than against Catholicism. Yet the Church of England is exposed to the reproach of having sanctioned the common opinions in the most authoritative manner. In the authorised version of the Sacred Scriptures, in the translation of which into the English language forty-seven selected divines, eminent for position and learning, could concur in consecrating a vulgar superstition, the most imposing sanction was given. Had they possessed either common sense or courage, these Anglican divines might have expressed their disbelief or doubt of its truth by a more rational, and possibly more proper, interpretation of the Hebrew and Greek expressions; or if that was not possible, by an accompanying unequivocal protest. But the subservience as well as superstition of the English Church under the last of the Tudors and under the Stuarts is equally a matter of fact and of reprobation. It was in the first year of the first King of Great Britain that the English Parliament passed the Act which remained in force, or at least on the Statute Book, until towards the middle of last century.[115] After due consideration the bill passed both Houses; and by it, it was enacted that 'If any person shall use any invocation or conjuration of any evil or wicked spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, entertain, employ, feed, or reward any evil or cursed spirit to or for any intent or purpose, or take up any dead man, woman, or child out of the grave--or the skin, bone, or any part of the dead person, to be employed or used in any manner of witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment; or shall use, exercise, or practice any sort of witchcraft, &c., whereby any person shall be destroyed, killed, wasted, consumed, pined or lamed in any part of the body; that every such person being convicted shall suffer death.' Twelve bishops sat in the Committee of the Upper House.[116] [115] The 'Witch Act' of James I. was passed in the year 1604. The new translation, or the present authorised version, of the Bible, was executed in 1607. The inference seems plain. An ecclesiastical canon passed at the same period, which prohibits the inferior clergy from exorcising without episcopal licence, proves at the same time the prevalence of 'possession' and the prevalence of exorcism in the beginning of the seventeenth century. [116] The parliament of James I. would have done wisely to have embraced the philosophic sentiment of a Hungarian prince (1095-1114) who is said to have dismissed the absurd superstition with laconic brevity: 'De strigis vero, quæ non sunt, nulla quæstio fiat.' The Scottish Parliament, during Queen Mary's reign, anathematised the _papistical_ practices; and from that time the annals of Scottish judicature are filled with records of trials and convictions. James was educated among the stern adherents of Calvin. In whatever matters of ecclesiastical faith and rule the countryman of Knox may have deviated from the teaching of his preceptors, he maintained with constant zeal his faith in the devil's omnipotence; and we may be disposed to concede the title of 'Defender of the Faith' (so confidently prefixed to successive editions of the Authorised Version) to his activity in the extermination of witches, rather than to his hatred of priestcraft. While monarch only of the Northern kingdom, he published a denunciation of the damnable infidelity of the 'Witch Advocates,' and his own unhesitating belief. James VI. and his clerical advisers were persuaded, or affected to be persuaded, that the devil, with all his hellish crew, was conspiring to frustrate the beneficial intentions of a pious Protestant prince. Infernal despair and rage reached the climax when the marriage with the Danish princess was to be effected. But, far from being terrified by so formidable a conspiracy, he gloried in the persuasion that he was the devil's greatest enemy; and the man who shuddered at the sight of a drawn sword was not afraid to enter the lists against the _invisible_ spiritual enemy. The 'Demonologie' was published at Edinburgh in 1597. The author introduces his book with these words: 'The fearful abounding at this time in this country of these detestable slaves of the devil, the witches or enchanters, hath moved me (beloved reader) to despatch in post this following treatise of mine, not in any wise (as I protest) to serve for a show of my learning and ingine, but only moved of conscience to press thereby so far as I can to resolve the doubting hearts of many; both that such assaults of Sathan are most certainly practised, and that the instruments thereof merits most severely to be punished: against the damnable opinions of two principally in our age, whereof the one called Scot, an Englishman, is not ashamed in public print to deny that there can be such a thing as witchcraft, and so maintains the old error of the Sadducees in denying of spirits. The other, called Wierus, a German physician, sets out a public apology for all these crafts-folks, whereby procuring for their impunity, he plainly bewrays himself to have been one of that profession. And for to make this treatise the more pleasant and facile, I have put it in form of a dialogue, which I have divided into three books: the first speaking of magic in general, and necromancy in special; the second, of sorcery and witchcraft; and the third contains a discourse of all those kinds of spirits and spectres that appears and troubles persons, together with a conclusion of the whole work. My intention in this labour is only to prove two things, as I have already said: the one, that such devilish arts have been and are; the other, what exact trial and severe punishment they merit; and therefore reason I what kind of things are possible to be performed in these arts, and by what natural causes they may be. Not that I touch every particular thing of the devil's power, for that were infinite; but only, to speak scholasticly (since this cannot be spoken in our language), I reason upon _genus_, leaving _species_ and _differentia_ to be comprehended therein.'[117] [117] Speculating on the manner of witches' aerial travels, he thinks, 'Another way is somewhat more strange, and yet it is possible to be true: which is, by being carried by the force of their spirit, which is their conductor, either above the earth or above the sea swiftly to the place where they are to meet: which I am persuaded to be likewise possible, in respect that as Habakkuk was carried by the angel in that form to the den where Daniel lay, so think I the devil will be ready to imitate God as well in that as in other things, which is much more possible to him to do, being a spirit, than to a mighty wind, being but a natural meteor to transport from one place to another a solid body, as is commonly and daily seen in practice. But in this violent form they cannot be carried but a short bounds, agreeing with the space that they may retain their breath; for if it were longer their breath could not remain unextinguished, their body being carried in such a violent and forcible manner.... And in this transporting they say themselves that they are invisible to any other, except amongst themselves. For if the devil may form what kind of impressions he pleases in the air, as I have said before, speaking of magic, why may he not far easier thicken and obscure so the air that is next about them, by contracting it straight together that the beams of any other man's eyes cannot pierce through the same to see them?' &c.--_Cyclopædia of English Literature_, edited by Robert Chambers. The following injunction is characteristic of all persecuting maxims, and is worthy of the disciple of Bodin: 'Witches ought to be put to death according to the law of God, the civil and the imperial law, and the municipal law of all Christian nations. Yea, to spare the life and not to strike whom God bids strike, and so severely in so odious a treason against God, is not only unlawful but doubtless as great a sin in the magistrate as was Saul's sparing Agag.' It is insisted upon by this _sagacious_ author (echoing the rules laid down in the 'Malleus'), that any and every evidence is good against an exceptional crime: that the testimony of the youngest children, and of persons of the most infamous character, not only may, but ought to be, received. This mischievous production is a curious collection of demonological learning and experience, exhibiting the reputed practices and ceremonies of witches, the mode of detecting them, &c.; but is useless even for the purpose of showing the popular Scottish or English notions, being chiefly a medley of classical or foreign ideas, inserted apparently (spite of the royal author's assurance to the contrary) to parade an array of abstruse and pedantic learning. That some of the excessive terror said to have been exhibited was simulated to promote his pretensions to the especial hostility of Satan, is probable: but that also he was impressed, in some degree, with a real and lively fear scarcely admits of doubt. The modern Solomon might well have blushed at the superior common sense of a barbaric chief; and the 'judges of the seventeenth century might have been instructed and confounded at the superior wisdom of Rotharis [a Lombardic prince], who derides the absurd superstition and protects the wretched victims of popular or judicial cruelty.'[118] [118] _Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, xlv. It would have been well for his subjects if he could have congratulated himself, like Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (the model of philosophic princes, and a more practically virtuous, if not wiser, philosopher than the proverbial Solomon, and of whom Niebuhr, _History of Rome_, v., asserts, 'If there is any sublime human virtue, it is his'), that he had learnt from his instructors to laugh at the bugbears of witches and demons.--[Greek: Ta eis heauton.]--_The Meditations of M. A. Antoninus._ Previously to the 'Witch Act,' the charge of sorcery was, in most cases, a subordinate and subsidiary one, attached to various political or other indictments. Henceforward the practice of the peculiar offence might be entirely independent of any more substantial accusation. In England, compared with the other countries of Europe, folly more than ferocity, perhaps, generally characterises the proceedings of the tribunals. During the pre-Reformation ages, France, even more than her island neighbour, suffered from the crime. The fates of the Templars, of Jeanne d'Arc, of Arras, of those suspected of causing the mad king's, Charles VI., derangement (when many of the _white_ witches, or wizards, 'mischievously good,' suffered for failing, by a pretended skill, to effect his promised cure) are some of the more conspicuous examples. But in France, as in the rest of Europe, it was in the post-feudal period that prosecutions became of almost daily occurrence. A prevalent kind of sorcery was that of lycanthropy, as it was called, a prejudice derived, it seems, in part from the Pythagorean metempsychosis. A few cases will illustrate the nature of this stupendous transformation. That it is mostly found to take place in France and in the southern districts, the country of wolves, that still make their ravages there, is a fact easily intelligible; and if the devil can enter into swine, he can also, in the opinion of the demonologists, as easily enter into wolves. At Dôle, in 1573, a loup-garou, or wehr-wolf (man-wolf), was accused of devastating the country and devouring little children. The indictment was read by Henri Camus, doctor of laws and counsellor of the king, to the effect that the accused, Gilles Garnier, had killed a girl twelve years of age, having torn her to pieces, partly with his teeth, and partly with his wolf's paws; that having dragged the body into the forest, he there devoured the larger portion, reserving the remainder for his wife; also that, by reason of injuries inflicted in a similar way on another young girl, the loup-garou had occasioned her death; also that he had devoured a boy of thirteen, tearing him limb by limb; that he displayed the same unnatural propensities even in his own proper shape. Fifty persons were found to bear witness; and he was put to the rack, which elicited an unreserved confession. He was then brought back into court, when Dr. Camus, in the name of the Parliament of Dôle, pronounced the following sentence: 'Seeing that Gilles Garnier has, by the testimony of credible witnesses and by his own spontaneous confession, been proved guilty of the abominable crimes of lycanthropy and witchcraft, this court condemns him, the said Grilles, to be this day taken in a cart from this spot to the place of execution, accompanied by the executioner, where he, by the said executioner, shall be tied to a stake and burned alive, and that his ashes be then scattered to the winds. The court further condemns him, the said Gilles, to the costs of this prosecution. Given at Dôle this 18th day of January, 1573.' Five years later a man named Jacques Rollet was burned alive in the Place de Grêve for the same crime, having been tried and condemned by the Parliament of Paris.[119] [119] A still more sensational case happened at a village in the mountains of Auvergne. A gentleman while hunting was suddenly attacked by a savage wolf of monstrous size. Impenetrable by his shot, the beast made a spring upon the helpless huntsman, who in the struggle luckily, or unluckily for the unfortunate lady, contrived to cut off one of its fore-paws. This trophy he placed in his pocket, and made the best of his way homewards in safety. On the road he met a friend to whom he exhibited a bleeding paw, or rather a woman's hand (so it was produced from the hunter's pocket) upon which was a wedding ring. His wife's ring was at once recognised by the other. His suspicions aroused, he immediately went in search of his wife, who was found sitting by the fire in the kitchen, her arm hidden beneath her apron: when the husband seizing her by the arm found his terrible suspicions verified. The bleeding stump was there, evidently just fresh from the wound. She was given into custody, and in the event was burned at Riom in presence of thousands of spectators. Among some of the races of India, among the Khonds of the mountains of Orissa, a superstition obtains like that of the _loup-garou_ of France. In India the tiger takes the place of the wolf, and the metamorphosed witch is there known as the _Pulta-bag_. A kindred prejudice, Vampirism, has still many adherents in Eastern Europe. The vampire is a human being who in his tomb maintains a posthumous existence by ascending in the night and sucking the bodies of the living. His punishment was necessarily less tremendous than that of the witch: the _dead_ body only being burned to ashes. An official document, quoted by Horst, narrates the particulars of the examination and burning of a disinterred vampire. Several witches were burned in successive years throughout the kingdom. In 1564, three witches and a wizard were executed at Poictiers: on the rack they declared that they had destroyed numbers of sheep by magical preparations, attended the Sabbaths, &c. Trois Echelles, a celebrated sorcerer, examined in the presence of Charles IX. and his court, acknowledged his obligation to the devil, to whom he had sold himself, recounting the debaucheries of the Sabbath, the methods of bewitching, and the compositions of the unguents for blighting cattle. The astounding fact was also revealed that some twelve hundred accomplices were at large in different parts of the land. The provincial parliaments in the end of this and the greater part of the next century are unremittingly engaged in passing decrees and making provisions against the increasing offences.[120] 'The Parliament of Rouen decreed that the possession of a _grimoire_ or book of spells was sufficient evidence of witchcraft; and that all persons on whom such books were found should be _burned alive_. Three councils were held in different parts of France in 1583, all in relation to the same subject. The Parliament of Bordeaux issued strict injunctions to all curates and clergy whatever to use redoubled efforts to root out the crime of witchcraft. The Parliament of Tours was equally peremptory, and feared the judgments of an offended God if all these dealers with the devil were not swept from the face of the land. The Parliament of Rheims was particularly severe against the _noueurs d'aiguillettes_ or 'tiers of the knot'--people of both sexes who took pleasure in preventing the consummation of marriage that they might counteract the command of God to our first parents to increase and multiply. This parliament held it to be sinful to wear amulets to preserve from witchcraft; and that this practice might not be continued within its jurisdiction, drew up a form of exorcism 'which could more effectually defeat the agents of the devil and put them to flight.'[121] [120] Montaigne, one of the few Frenchmen at this time who seemed to discredit the universal creed, in one of his essays ventures to think 'it is very probable that the principal credit of visions, of enchantments, and of such extraordinary effects, proceeds from the power of the imagination acting principally upon the more impressible minds of the vulgar.' He is inclined to assign the prevalent 'liaisons' (nouements d'aiguillettes) to the apprehensions of a fear with which in his age the French world was so perplexed (si entravé). _Essais_, liv. i. 20. [121] _Extraordinary Popular Delusions_, by Mackay, whose authorities are Tablier, Boguet (_Discours sur les Sorciers_), and M. Jules Garinet (_Histoire de la Magie_). In France, and still more in Italy, there is reason for believing that many of the convicts were not without the real guilt of toxicological practices; and they might sometimes properly deserve the opprobrium of the old _venefici_. The formal trial and sentence to death of La Maréchale de l'Ancre in 1617 was perhaps more political than superstitious, but witchcraft was introduced as one of the gravest accusations. Her preponderance in the councils of Marie de Medici and of Louis XIII. originated in the natural _fascination_ of royal but inferior minds. Two years afterwards occurred a bonâ fide prosecution on a large scale. A commission was appointed by the Parliament of Bordeaux to inquire into the causes and circumstances of the prevalence of witchcraft in the Pyrenean districts. Espaignol, president of the local parliament, with the better known councillor, Pierre de l'Ancre, who has left a record ('Tableau de l'Inconstance des Mauvais Anges et Démons, où il est amplement traité des Sorciers et Démons: Paris'), was placed at the head of the commission. How the district of Labourt was so infested with the tribe, that of thirty thousand inhabitants hardly a family existed but was infected with sorcery, is explained by the barren, sterile, mountainous aspect of the neighbourhood of that part of the Pyrenees: the men were engaged in the business of fishermen, and the women left alone were exposed to the tempter. The priests too were as ignorant and wicked as the people; their relations with the lonely wives and daughters being more intimate than proper. Young and handsome women, some mere girls, form the greater proportion of the accused. As many as forty a day appeared at the bar of the commissioners, and at least two hundred were hanged or burned. Evidence of the appearance of the devil was various and contradictory. Some at the _Domdaniel_, the place of assemblage, had a vision of a hideous wild he-goat upon a large gilded throne; others of a man twisted and disfigured by Tartarean torture; of a gentleman in black with a sword, booted and spurred; to others he seemed as some shapeless indistinct object, as that of the trunk of a tree, or some huge rock or stone. They proceeded to their meetings riding on spits, pitchforks, broom-sticks: being entertained on their arrival in the approved style, and indulging in the usual licence. Deputies from witchdom attended from all parts, even from Scotland. When reproached by some of his slaves for failing to come to the rescue in the torture-chamber or at the stake, their lord replied by causing illusory fires to be lit, bidding the doubters walk through the harmless flames, promising not more inconvenience in the bonfires of their persecutors. Lycanthropic criminals were also brought up who had prowled about and devastated the sheepfolds. Espaignol and De l'Ancre were provided with two professional Matthew Hopkinses: one a surgeon for examining the 'marks' (generally here discovered in the left eye, like a frog's foot) in the men and older women; the other a girl of seventeen, for the younger of her sex. Many of the priests were executed; several made their escape from the country. Besides the work before mentioned, De l'Ancre published a treatise under the title of 'L'Incrédulité et Mescréance du Sortilége pleinement convaincue,' 1622. The expiration of the term of the Bordeaux commission brought the proceedings to a close, and fortunately saved a number of the condemned. In Spain, the land of Torquemada and Ximenes, which had long ago fanatically expelled the Jews and recently its old Moorish conquerors from its soil, the unceasing activity of the Inquisition during 140 years must have extorted innumerable confessions and proofs of diabolic conspiracies and heresy. Antonio Llorente, the historian of the Inquisition, to whose rare opportunities of obtaining information we are indebted for some instructive revelations, has exposed a large number of the previously silent and dark transactions of the Holy Office. But the demonological ideas of the Southern Church and people are profusely displayed in the copious dramatic literature of the Spaniards, whose theatre was at one time nearly as popular, if not as influential, as the Church. The dramas of the celebrated Lope de Vega and of Calderon in particular, are filled with demons as well as angels[122]--a sort of religious compensation to the Church for the moral deficiencies of a licentious stage, or rather licentious public. [122] In the _Nacimiento de Christo_ of Lope de Vega the devil appears in his popular figure of the dragon. Calderon's _Wonder-Working Magician_, relating the adventures of St. Cyprian and the various temptations and seductions of the Evil Spirit, like Goethe's Faust, introduces the devil in the disguise of a fashionable and gallant gentleman.--Ticknor's _History of Spanish Literature_. CHAPTER VI. 'Possession' in France in the Seventeenth Century--Urbain Grandier and the Convent of Loudun--Exorcism at Aix--Ecstatic Phenomena--Madeleine Bavent--Her cruel Persecution--Catholic and Protestant Witchcraft in Germany--Luther's Demonological Fears and Experiences--Originated in his exceptional Position and in the extraordinary Circumstances of his Life and Times--Witch-burning at Bamburg and at Würzburg. Demoniacal possession was a phase of witchcraft which obtained extensively in France during the seventeenth century: the victims of this hallucination were chiefly the female inmates of religious houses, whose inflamed imaginations were prostituted by their priestly advisers to the most atrocious purposes. Urbain Grandier's fate was connected with that of an entire convent. The facts of this celebrated sorcerer's history are instructive. He was educated in a college of the Jesuits at Bordeaux, and presented by the fathers, with whom his abilities and address had gained much applause, to a benefice in Loudun. He provoked by his haughtiness the jealousy of his brother clergy, who regarded him as an intruder, and his pride and resentment increased in direct proportion to the activity of his enemies, who had conspired to effect his ruin. Mounier and Mignon, two priests whom he had mortally offended, were most active. Urbain Grandier was rash enough to oppose himself alone to the united counsels of unscrupulous and determined foes. Defeated singly in previous attempts to drive him from Loudun, the two priests combined with the leading authorities of the place. Their haughty and careless adversary had the advantage or disadvantage of a fine person and handsome face, which, with his other recommendations, gained him universal popularity with the women; and his success and familiarities with the fair sex were not likely to escape the vigilance of spies anxious to collect damaging proofs. What inflamed to the utmost the animosities of the two parties was the success of Canon Mignon in obtaining the coveted position of confessor to the convent of Ursulines in Loudun, to the exclusion of Grandier, himself an applicant. This convent was destined to assume a prominent part in the fate of the curé of the town. The younger nuns, it seems, to enliven the dull monotony of monastic life, adopted a plan of amusing their leisure by frightening the older ones in making the most of their knowledge of secret passages in the building, playing off ghost-tricks, and raising unearthly noises. When the newly appointed confessor was informed of the state of matters he at once perceived the possibility, and formed the design, of turning it to account. The offending nuns were promised forgiveness if they would continue their ghostly amusement, and also affect demoniacal possession; a fraud in which they were more readily induced to participate by an assurance that it might be the humble means of converting the heretics--Protestants being unusually numerous in that part of the country. As soon as they were sufficiently prepared to assume their parts, the magistrates were summoned to witness the phenomena of possession and exorcism. On the first occasion the Superior of the convent was the selected patient; and it was extracted from the demon in possession that he had been sent by Urbain Grandier, priest of the church of St. Peter. This was well so far; but the civil authorities generally, as it appears, were not disposed to accept even the irrefragable testimony of a demoniac; and the ecclesiastics, with the leading inhabitants, were in conflict with the civil power. Opportunely, however, for the plan of the conspirators, who were almost in despair, an all-powerful ally was enlisted on their side. A severe satire upon some acts of the minister of France, Cardinal Richelieu, or of some of his subordinates, had made its appearance. Urbain was suspected to be the author; his enemies were careful to improve the occasion; and the Cardinal-minister's cooperation was secured. A royal commission was ordered to inquire into the now notorious circumstances of the Loudun diabolism. Laubardemont, the head of the commission, arrived in December 1633, and no time was lost in bringing the matter to a crisis. The house of the suspected was searched for books of magic; he himself being thrown into a dungeon, where the surgeons examined him for the 'marks.' Five insensible spots were found--a certain proof. Meanwhile the nuns become more hysterical than ever; strong suspicion not being wanting that the priestly confessors to the convent availed themselves of their situation to abuse the bodies as well as the minds of the reputed demoniacs. To such an extent went the audacity of the exorcists, and the credulity of the people, that the _enceinte_ condition of one of the sisters, which at the end of five or six months disappeared, was explained by the malicious slander of the devil, who had caused that scandalous illusion. Crowds of persons of all ranks flocked from Paris and from the most distant parts to see and hear the wild ravings of these hysterical or drugged women, whose excitement was such that they spared not their own reputations; and some scandalous exposures were submitted to the amusement or curiosity of the surrounding spectators. Some few of them, aroused from the horrible delusion, or ashamed of their complicity, admitted that all their previous revelations were simple fiction. Means were found to effectually silence such dangerous announcements. The accusers pressed on the prosecution; the influence of his friends was overborne, and Grandier was finally sentenced to the stake. Fearing the result of a despair which might convincingly betray the facts of the case to the assembled multitude, they seem to have prevailed upon the condemned to keep silence up to the last moment, under promise of an easier death. But already fastened to the stake, he learned too late the treachery of his executioners; instead of being first strangled, he was committed alive to the flames. Nor were any 'last confessions' possible. The unfortunate victim of the malice of exasperated rivals, and of the animosity of the implacable Richelieu, has been variously represented.[123] It is noticeable that the scene of this affair was in the heart of the conquered Protestant region--Rochelle had fallen only six years before the execution; and the heretics, although politically subdued, were numerous and active. A fact which may account for the seeming indifference and even the opposition of a large number of the people in this case of diabolism which obtained comparatively little credit. It had been urged to the nuns that it would be for the good and glory of Catholicism that the heretics should be confounded by a few astounding miracles. Whether Grandier had any decided heretical inclinations is doubtful; but he wrote against the celibacy of the priesthood, and was suspected of liberal opinions in religion. A Capuchin named Tranquille (a contemporary) has furnished the materials for the 'History of the Devils of Loudun' by the Protestant Aubin, 1716. [123] Michelet apparently accepts the charge of immorality; according to which the curé took advantage of his popularity among the ladies of Loudun, by his insinuating manners, to seduce the wives and daughters of the citizens. By another writer (Alexandre Dumas, _Celebrated Crimes_) he is supposed to have been of a proud and vindictive disposition, but innocent of the alleged irregularities. Twenty-four years previously a still more scandalous affair--that of Louis Gauffridi and the Convent of Aix, in which Gauffridi, who had debauched several girls both in and out of the establishment, was the principal actor--was transacted with similar circumstances. Madeleine, one of the novices, soon after entering upon her noviciate, was seized with the ecstatic trances, which were speedily communicated to her companions.[124] These fits, in the judgment of the priests, were nothing but the effect of witchcraft. Exorcists elicited from the girls that Louis Gauffridi, a powerful magician having authority over demons throughout Europe, had bewitched them. The questions and answers were taken down, by order of the judges, by reporters, who, while the priests were exorcising, committed the results to writing, published afterwards by one of them, Michaelis, in 1613. Among the interesting facts acquired through these spirit-media, the inquisitors learned that Antichrist was already come; that printing, and the invention of it, were alike accursed, and similar information. Madeleine, tortured and imprisoned in the most loathsome dungeon, was reduced to such a condition of extreme horror and dread, that from this time she was the mere instrument of her atrocious judges. Having been intimate with the wizard, she could inform them of the position of the 'secret marks' on his person: these were ascertained in the usual way by pricking with needles. Gauffridi, by various torture, was induced to make the required confession, and was burned alive at Aix, April 30, 1611. [124] M. Maury, in a philosophical and learned work (_La Magie et l'Astrologie dans l'Antiquité et au Moyen Âge_), has scientifically explored and exposed the mysteries of these and the like ecstatic phenomena, of such frequent occurrence in Protestant as well as in Catholic countries; in the orphan-houses of Amsterdam and Horn, as well as in the convents of France and Italy in the 17th century. And the Protestant revivalists of the present age have in great measure reproduced these curious results of religious excitement. Demoniacal possession was a mania in France in the seventeenth century. The story of Madeleine Bavent, as reported, reveals the utmost licentiousness and fiendish cruelty.[125] Gibbon justly observes that ancient Rome supported with the greatest difficulty the institution of _six_ vestals, notwithstanding the certain fate of a living grave for those who could not preserve their chastity; and Christian Rome was filled with many thousands of both sexes bound by vows to perpetual virginity. Madeleine was seduced by her Franciscan confessor when only fourteen; and she entered a convent lately founded at Louviers. In this building, surrounded by a wood, and situated in a suitable spot, some strange practices were carried on. At the instigation of their director, a priest called David, the nuns, it is reported, were seized with an irresistible desire of imitating the primitive Adamite simplicity: the novices were compelled to return to the simple nudity of the days of innocence when taking exercise in the conventual gardens, and even at their devotions in the chapel. The novice Madeleine, on one occasion, was reprimanded for concealing her bosom with the altar-cloth at communion. She was originally of a pure and artless mind; and only gradually and stealthily she was corrupted by the pious arguments of her priest. This man, Picart by name--one of that extensive class the 'tristes obsc[oe]ni,' of whom the Angelos and Tartuffes[126] are representatives--succeeded to the vacant office of directing confessor to the nuns of Louviers; and at once embraced the opportunities of the confessional. Without repeating all the disgusting scenes that followed, as given by Michelet, it is only necessary to add that the miserable nun became the mistress and helpless creature of her seducer. 'He employed her as a magical charm to gain over the rest of the nuns. A holy wafer steeped in Madeleine's blood and buried in the garden would be sure to disturb their senses and their minds. This was the very year in which Urban Grandier was burned. Throughout France men spoke of nothing but the devils of Loudun.... Madeleine fancied herself bewitched and knocked about by devils; followed about by a lewd cat with eyes of fire. By degrees other nuns caught the disorder, which showed itself in odd supernatural jerks and writhings.' [125] It is but one instance of innumerable amours within the secret penetralia of the privileged conventual establishments. In the dark recesses of these vestal institutions on a gigantic scale, where publicity, that sole security, was never known, what vices or even crimes could not be safely perpetrated? Luther, who proved in the most practical way his contempt for the sanctity of monastic vows by eloping with a nun, assures us, among other scandals attaching to convent life, of the fact that when a fish-pond adjoining one of these establishments in Rome was drained off, six thousand infant skulls were exposed to view. A story which may be fact or fiction. But while fully admitting the probability of invention and exaggeration in the relations of enemies, and the fact that undue prejudice is likely to somewhat exaggerate the probable evils of the mysterious and unknown, how could it be otherwise than that during fourteen centuries many crimes should have been committed in those silent and safe retreats? Nor, indeed, is experience opposed to the possibility of the highest fervour of an unnatural enthusiasm being compatible with more human passions. The virgin who, 'Ut flos in septis secretus nascitur hortis Ignotus pecori,' as eulogised by the virgin-chorus in the beautiful epithalamium of Catullus, might be recognised in the youthful 'religieuse' if only human passion could be excluded; but the story of Heloise and Abelard is not a solitary proof of the superiority of human nature over an impossible and artificial spirituality. [126] As Tartuffe privately confesses, 'L'amour qui nous attache aux beautés éternelles N'étouffe pas en nous l'amour des temporelles. * * * * * Pour être dévot, je n'en suis pas moins homme.' The Superior was not averse to the publication of these events, having the example and reputation of Loudun before her. Little is new in the possession and exorcism: for the most part they are a repetition of those of Aix and Loudun. During a brief interval the devils were less outrageous: for the Cardinal-minister was meditating a reform of the monastic establishments. Upon his death they commenced again with equal violence. Picart was now dead--but not so the persecution of his victim. The priests recommenced miracle-working with renewed vigour.[127] Saved from immediate death by a fortunate or, as it may be deemed, unfortunate sensitiveness to bodily pain, she was condemned for the rest of her life to solitary confinement in a fearful dungeon, in the language of her judges to an _in pace_. There lying tortured, powerless in a loathsome cell, their prisoner was alternately coaxed and threatened into admitting all sorts of crimes, and implicating whom they wished.[128] The further cruelties to which the lust, and afterwards the malignancy, of her gaolers submitted her were not brought to an end by the interference of parliament in August 1647, when the destruction of the Louviers establishment was decreed. The guilty escaped by securing, by intimidation, the silence of their prisoner, who remained a living corpse in the dungeons of the episcopal palace of Rouen. The bones of Picart were exhumed, and publicly burned; the curé Boullé, an accomplice, was dragged on a hurdle to the fish-market, and there burned at the stake. So terminated this last of the trilogical series. But the hysterical or demoniacal disease was as furious as ever in Germany in the middle of the eighteenth century; and was attended with as tremendous effects at Würzburg as at Louviers. [127] To the diabolic visions of the other they opposed those of 'a certain Anne of the Nativity, a girl of sanguine hysterical temperament, frantic at need, and half mad--so far at least as to believe in her own lies. A kind of dog-fight was got up between the two. They besmeared each other with false charges. Anne saw the devil quite naked by Madeleine's side. Madeleine swore to seeing Anne at the Sabbath with the Lady Superior, the Mother Assistant, and the Mother of the novices.... Madeleine was condemned, without a hearing, to be disgraced, to have her body examined for the marks of the devil. They tore off her veil and gown, and made her the wretched sport of a vile curiosity that would have pierced till she bled again in order to win the right of sending her to the stake. Leaving to no one else the care of a scrutiny which was in itself a torture, these virgins, acting as matrons, ascertained if she were with child or no; shaved all her body, and dug their needles into her quivering flesh to find out the insensible spots.'--_La Sorcière._ [128] The horrified reader may see the fuller details of this case in Michelet's _La Sorcière_, who takes occasion to state that, than 'The History of Madeleine Bavent, a nun of Louviers, with her examination, &c., 1652, Rouen,' he knows of 'no book more important, more dreadful, or worthier of being reprinted. It is the most powerful narrative of its class. _Piety Afflicted_, by the Capuchin Esprit de Bosrager, is a work immortal in the annals of tomfoolery. The two excellent pamphlets by the doughty surgeon Yvelin, the _Inquiry_ and the _Apology_, are in the Library of Ste. Geneviève.'--_La Sorcière_, the Witch of the Middle Ages, chap. viii. Whatever exaggeration there may possibly be in any of the details of these and similar histories, there is not any reasonable doubt of their general truth. It is much to be wished, indeed, that writers should, in these cases, always confine themselves to the simple facts, which need not any imaginary or fictitious additions. In Germany during the seventeenth century witches felt the fury of both Catholic and Protestant zeal; but in the previous age prosecutions are directed against Protestant witches. They abounded in Upper Germany in the time of Innocent VIII., and what numbers were executed has been already seen. When the revolutionary party had acquired greater strength and its power was established, they vied with the conservatives in their vigorous attacks upon the empire of Satan. Luther had been sensible to the contagious fear that the great spiritual enemy was actually fighting in the ranks of his enemies. He had personal experience of his hostility. Immured for his safety in a voluntary but gloomy prison, occupied intensely in the plan of a mighty revolution against the most powerful hierarchy that has ever existed, engaged continuously in the laborious task of translating the Sacred Scriptures, only partially freed from the prejudices of education, it is little surprising that the antagonist of the Church should have experienced infernal hallucinations. This weakness of the champion of Protestantism is at least more excusable than the pedantic folly of the head of the English Church. When Luther, however, could seriously affirm that witchcraft 'is the devil's proper work wherewith, when God permits, he not only hurts people but makes away with them; for in this world we are as guests and strangers, body and soul, cast under the devil: that idiots, the lame, the blind, the dumb are men in whom ignorant devils have established themselves, and all the physicians who attempt to heal these infirmities as though they proceeded from natural causes, are ignorant blockheads who know nothing about the power of the demon,' we cannot be indignant at the blind credulity of the masses of the people. It appears inconsistent that Luther, averse generally to supernaturalism, should yet find no difficulty in entertaining these irrational diabolistic ideas. The circumstances of his life and times sufficiently explain the inconsistency.[129] [129] The following sentence in his recorded conversation, when the free thoughts of the Reformer were unrestrained in the presence of his most intimate friends, is suggestive. 'I know,' says he, 'the devil thoroughly well; he has over and over pressed me so close that I scarcely knew whether I was alive or dead. Sometimes he has thrown me into such despair that I even knew not that there is a God, and had great doubts about our dear Lord Christ. But the Word of God has speedily restored me' (Luther's _Tischreden_ or _Table Talk_, as cited in Howitt's _History of the Supernatural_). The eloquent controversialist Bossuet and the Catholics have been careful to avail themselves of the impetuosity and incautiousness of the great German Reformer. Of all the leaders of the religious revolution of the sixteenth century, the Reformer of Zurich was probably the most liberally inclined; and Zuinglius' unusual charity towards those ancient sages and others who were ignorant of Christianity, which induced him to place the names of Aristides, Socrates, the Gracchi, &c., in the same list with those of Moses, Isaiah, and St. Paul, who should meet in the assembly of the virtuous and just in the future life, obliged Luther openly to profess of his friend that 'he despaired of his salvation,' and has provoked the indignation of the bishop of Meaux.--_Variations des Eglises Protestantes_, ii. 19 and 20. On the eve of the prolonged and ferocious struggle on the continent between Catholicism and Protestantism a wholesale slaughter of witches and wizards was effected, a fitting prologue to the religious barbarities of the Thirty Years' War. Fires were kindled almost simultaneously in two different places, at Bamburg and Würzburg; and seldom, even in the annals of witchcraft, have they burned more tremendously. The prince-bishops of those territories had long been anxious to extirpate Lutheranism from their dioceses. Frederick Forner, Suffragan of Bamburg, a vigorous supporter of the Jesuits, was the chief agent of John George II. He waged war upon the heretical sorcerers in the 'whole armour of God,' _Panoplia armaturæ Dei_. According to the statements of credible historians, nine hundred trials took place in the two courts of Bamburg and Zeil between 1625 and 1630. Six hundred were burned by Bishop George II. No one was spared. The chancellor, his son, Dr. Horn, with his wife and daughters, many of the lords and councillors of the bishop's court, women and priests, suffered. After tortures of the most extravagant kind it was extorted that some twelve hundred of them were confederated to bewitch the entire land to the extent that 'there would have been neither wine nor corn in the country, and that thereby man and beast would have perished with hunger, and men would be driven to eat one another. There were even some Catholic priests among them who had been led into practices too dreadful to be described, and they confessed among other things that they had baptized many children in the devil's name. It must be stated that these confessions were made under tortures of the most fearful kind, far more so than anything that was practised in France or other countries.... The number brought to trial in these terrible proceedings were so great, and they were treated with so little consideration, that it was usual not even to take the trouble of setting down their names; but they were cited as the accused Nos. 1, 2, 3, &c. The Jesuits took their confessions in private, and they made up the lists of those who were understood to have been denounced by them.' More destructive still were the burnings of Würzburg at the same period under the superintendence of Philip Adolph, who ascended the episcopal throne in 1623. In spite of the energy of his predecessors, a grand confederacy of sorcerers had been discovered, and were at once denounced.[130] [130] 'A catalogue of nine and twenty _brände_ or burnings during a very short period of time, previous to the February of 1629, will give the best notion of the horrible character of these proceedings; it is printed,' adds Mr. Wright, 'from the original records in Hauber's _Bibliotheca Magica_.' E.g. in the Fifth Brände are enumerated: (1) Latz, an eminent shopkeeper. (2) Rutscher, a shopkeeper. (3) The housekeeper of the Dean of the cathedral. (4) The old wife of the Court ropemaker. (5) Jos. Sternbach's housekeeper. (6) The wife of Baunach, a Senator. (7) A woman named Znickel Babel. (8) An old woman. In the Sixteenth Burning: (1) A noble page of Ratzenstein. (2) A boy of ten years of age. (3, 4, 5) The two daughters of the Steward of the Senate and his maid. (6) The fat ropemaker's wife. In the Twentieth Burning: (1) Gobel's child, the most beautiful girl in Würzburg. (2) A student on the fifth form, who knew many languages, and was an excellent musician. (3, 4) Two boys from the New Minster, each twelve years old. (5) Stepper's little daughter. (6) The woman who kept the bridge gate. In the Twenty-sixth Burning are specified: (1) David Hans, a Canon in the New Minster. (2) Weydenbusch, a Senator. (3) The innkeeper's wife of the Baumgarten. (4) An old woman. (5) The little daughter of Valkenberger was privately executed and burned on her bier. (6) The little son of the town council bailiff. (7) Herr Wagner, vicar in the cathedral, was burned alive.--_Narratives of Sorcery and Magic._ The facts are taken from Dr. Soldan's _Geschichte der Hexenprocesse_, whose materials are to be found in Horst's _Zauber Bibliothek_ and Hauber's _Bibliotheca Magica_. Nine appears to have been the greatest number, and sometimes only two were sent to execution at once. Five are specially recorded as having been burned alive. The victims are of all professions and trades--vicars, canons, goldsmiths, butchers, &c. Besides the twenty-nine conflagrations recorded, many others were lighted about the same time: the names of whose prey are not written in the Book of Death. Frederick Spee, a Jesuit, formerly a violent enemy of the witches, but who had himself been incriminated by their extorted confessions at these holocausts, was converted to the opposite side, and wrote the 'Cautio Criminalis,' in which the necessity of caution in receiving evidence is insisted upon--a caution, without doubt, 'very necessary at that time for the magistracy throughout Germany.' All over Germany executions, if not everywhere so indiscriminately destructive as those in Franconia and at Würzburg, were incessant: and it is hardly the language of hyperbole to say that no province, no city, no village was without its condemned. CHAPTER VII. Scotland one of the most Superstitious Countries in Europe--Scott's Relation of the Barbarities perpetrated in the Witch-trials under the auspices of James VI.--The Fate of Agnes Sampson, Euphane MacCalzean, &c.--Irrational Conduct of the Courts of Justice--Causes of voluntary Witch-confessions--Testimony of Sir G. Mackenzie, &c.--Trial and Execution of Margaret Barclay--Computation of the number of Witches who suffered death in England and Scotland in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries--Witches burned alive at Edinburgh in 1608--The Lancashire Witches--Sir Thomas Overbury and Dr. Forman--Margaret Flower and Lord Rosse. Scotland, by the physical features of the country and by the character and habits of the people, is eminently apt for the reception of the magical and supernatural of any kind;[131] and during the century from 1563 it was almost entirely subject to the dominion of Satan. Sir Walter Scott has narrated some of the most prominent cases and trials in the northern part of the island. The series may be said to commence from the confederated conspiracy of hell to prevent the union of James VI. with the Princess Anne of Denmark. An overwhelming tempest at sea during the voyage of these anti-papal, anti-diabolic royal personages was the appointed means of their destruction. [131] A late philosophic writer has ventured to institute a comparison in point of superstition and religious intolerance between Spain and Scotland. The latter country, however, has denied to political what it conceded to priestly government: hence its superior material progress and prosperity.--Buckle's _History of Civilisation in England_. The human agents were Agnes Sampson, the wise wife of Keith (one of the better sort, who cured diseases, &c.); Dame Euphane MacCalzean, widow of a senator of the College of Justice, and a Catholic; Dr. John Fian or Cunninghame, a man of some learning, and of much skill in poison as well as in magic; Barbara Napier or Douglas; Geillis Duncan; with about thirty other women of the lowest condition. 'When the monarch of Scotland sprung this strong covey of his favourite game, they afforded the Privy Council and himself sport for the greatest part of the remaining winter. He attended on the examinations himself.... Agnes Sampson, after being an hour tortured by the twisting of a cord around her head according to the custom of the buccaneers, confessed that she had consulted with one Richard Grahame concerning the probable length of the king's life and the means of shortening it. But Satan, to whom at length they resorted for advice, told them in French respecting King James, _Il est un homme de Dieu_. The poor woman also acknowledged that she had held a meeting with those of her sisterhood, who had charmed a cat by certain spells, having four joints of men knit to its feet, which they threw into the sea to excite a tempest: they embarked in sieves with much mirth and jollity, the fiend rolling himself before them upon the waves dimly seen, and resembling a huge haystack in size and appearance. They went on board of a foreign ship richly laden with wines, where, invisible to the crew, they feasted till the sport grew tiresome; and then Satan sunk the vessel and all on board. Fian or Cunninghame was also visited by the sharpest tortures, ordinary and extraordinary. The nails were torn from his fingers with smiths' pincers; pins were driven into the places which the nails usually defended; his knees were crushed in the _boots_; his finger-bones were splintered in the _pilniewincks_. At length his constancy, hitherto sustained, as the bystanders supposed, by the help of the devil, was fairly overcome; and he gave an account of a great witch-meeting at North Berwick, where they paced round the church _withershins_--i. e. in reverse of the motion of the sun. Fian then blew into the lock of the church door, whereupon the bolts gave way: the unhallowed crew entered, and their master the devil appeared to his servants in the shape of a black man occupying the pulpit. He was saluted with a "Hail, Master!" but the company were dissatisfied with his not having brought a picture of the king, repeatedly promised, which was to place his Majesty at the mercy of this infernal crew.... The devil, on this memorable occasion, forgot himself, and called Fian by his own name instead of the demoniacal sobriquet of Rob the Rowan, which had been assigned to him as Master of the Rows or Rolls. This was considered as bad taste; and the rule is still observed at every rendezvous of forgers, smugglers, or the like, where it is accounted very indifferent manners to name an individual by his own name in case of affording ground of evidence which may upon a day of trial be brought against him. Satan, something disconcerted, concluded the evening with a divertissement and a dance after his own manner. The former consisted in disinterring a new-buried corpse, and dividing it in fragments among the company; and the ball was maintained by well-nigh two hundred persons, who danced a ring dance.... Dr. Fian, muffled, led the ring, and was highly honoured, generally acting as clerk or recorder. King James was deeply interested in those mysterious meetings, and took great delight to be present at the examinations of the accused. He sent for Geillis Duncan, and caused her to play before him the same tune to which Satan and his companions led the brawl in North Berwick churchyard. His ears were gratified in another way: for at this meeting it was said the witches demanded of the devil why he did bear such enmity against the king, who returned the flattering answer, that the king was the greatest enemy whom he had in the world. Almost all these poor wretches were executed: nor did Euphane MacCalzean's station in life save her from the common doom, which was strangling to death and burning to ashes thereafter. The majority of the jury which tried Barbara Napier, having acquitted her of attendance at the North Berwick meeting, were themselves threatened with a trial for wilful error upon an assize, and could only escape from severe censure and punishment by pleading guilty, and submitting themselves to the king's pleasure. The alterations and trenching,' adds Scott, 'which lately took place on the Castle-hill at Edinburgh for the purpose of forming the new approach to the city from the west, displayed the ashes of the numbers who had perished in this manner, of whom a large proportion must have been executed between 1590--when the great discovery was made concerning Euphane MacCalzean and the wise wife of Keith and their accomplices--and the union of the crowns.'[132] [132] Sir W. Scott's _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, ix. Euphane's exceptional doom was 'to be bound to the stake, and burned in ashes _quick_ to the death.' 'Burning quick' was not an uncommon sentence: if the less cruel one of hanging or strangling first and afterwards burning was more usual. Thirty warlocks and witches was the total number executed on June 25th, 1591. A few, like Dr. Cunninghame, may have been really experienced in the use of poison and poisonous drugs. The art of poisoning has been practised perhaps almost as extensively as (often coextensively with) that of sorcery; a tremendous and mostly inscrutable crime which science, in all ages, has been able more surely to conceal than to detect. Two facts eminently illustrate the barbarous iniquity of the Courts of Justice when dealing with their witch prisoners. An expressed malediction, or frequently an almost inaudible mutter, followed by the coincident fulfilment of the imprecation, was accepted eagerly by the judges as sufficient proof (an antecedent one, contrary to the boasted principle of English law at least, which assumes the innocence until the guilt has been proved, of the accused) of the crime of the person arraigned. And they complacently attributed to conscious guilt the ravings produced by an excruciating torture--that equally inhuman and irrational invention of judicial cruelty; confidently boasting that they were careful to sentence no person without previous confession duly made. But these confessions not seldom were partly extracted from a natural wish to be freed from the persecution of neighbours as well as from present bodily torture. Sir George Mackenzie, Lord Advocate of Scotland during the period of the greatest fury, and himself president at many of the trials, a believer, among other cases in his _Criminal Law_, 1678, relates that of a condemned witch who had confessed judicially to him and afterwards 'told me under secrecy, that she had not confessed because she was guilty; but being a poor creature who wrought for her meat, and being defamed for a witch she knew she should starve, for no person thereafter would either give her meat or lodging, and that all men would beat her and set dogs at her, and that therefore she desired to be out of the world. Whereupon she wept most bitterly, and upon her knees called God to witness to what she said. Another told me that she was afraid the devil would challenge a right to her after she was said to be his servant, and would haunt her, as the minister said when he was desiring her to confess, and therefore she desired to die. And really,' admits the learned judge, 'ministers are oft-times indiscreet in their zeal to have poor creatures to confess in this; and I recommend to judges that the wisest ministers should be sent to them; and that those who are sent should be cautious in this particular.' Another confession at the supreme moment of the same sort, as recorded by the Rev. G. Sinclair in 'Satan's Invisible World Discovered' is equally significant and genuine. What impression it left upon the pious clergyman will be seen in his concluding inference. The witch, 'being carried forth to the place of execution, remained silent during the first, second, and third prayer, and then, perceiving there remained no more but to rise up and go to the stake, she lifted up her body and with a loud voice cried out, "Now all you that see me this day know that I am now to die as a witch by my own confession, and I free all men, especially the ministers and magistrates, of the guilt of my blood. I take it wholly upon myself--my blood be upon my own head; and as I must make answer to the God of heaven presently, I declare I am as free of witchcraft as any child. But being delated by a malicious woman, and put in prison under the name of a witch; disowned by my husband and friends, and seeing no ground of hope of my coming out of prison or ever coming in credit again, through the temptation of the devil I made up that confession on purpose to destroy my own life, being weary of it, and choosing rather to die than live"--and so died; which lamentable story as it did then astonish all the spectators, none of which could restrain themselves from tears, so it may be to all a demonstration of Satan's subtlety, whose design is still to destroy all, partly by tempting many to presumption, and some others to despair.' The trial of Margaret Barclay took place in 1613. Her crime consisted in having caused by means of spells the loss of a ship at sea. She was said to have had a quarrel with the owner of the shipwrecked vessel, in the course of which she uttered a wish that all on board might sink to the bottom of the sea. Her imprecation was accomplished, and upon the testimony of an itinerant juggler, John Stewart, she was arraigned before a Court of Justice. With the help of the devil in the shape of a handsome black dog, she had moulded some figures of clay representing the doomed sailors, which with the prescribed rites were thrown into the deep. We are informed by the reporters of the proceedings at this examination, that 'after using this kind of gentle torture [viz. placing the legs in a pair of stocks and laying on gradually increasing weights of iron bars], the said Margaret began, according to the increase of the pain, to cry and crave for God's cause to take off her shin the foresaid irons, and she should declare truly the whole matter. Which being removed, she began at her formal denial; and being of new assayed in torture as before, she then uttered these words: "Take off, take off! and before God I shall show you the whole form." And the said irons being of new, upon her faithful promise, removed, she then desired my Lord of Eglinton, the said four justices, and the said Mr. David Dickson, minister of the burgh; Mr. George Dunbar, minister of Ayr; Mr. Mitchell Wallace, minister of Kilmarnock; Mr. John Cunninghame, minister of Dalry; and Hugh Kennedy, provost of Ayr, to come by themselves and to remove all others, and she should declare truly, as she should answer to God, the whole matter. Whose desire in that being fulfilled, she made her confession in this manner without any kind of demand, freely without interrogation: God's name by earnest prayer being called upon for opening of her lips and easing of her heart, that she by rendering of the truth might glorify and magnify His holy name and disappoint the enemy of her salvation.' One of those involved in the voluntary confession was Isabel Crawford, who was frightened into admitting the offences alleged. In court, when asked if she wished to be defended by counsel, Margaret Barclay, whose hopes and fears were revived at seeing her husband, answered, 'As you please; but all I have confessed was in agony of torture; and, before God, all I have spoken is false and untrue.' She was found guilty; sentenced to be strangled at the stake; her body to be burned to ashes. Isabel Crawford, after a short interval, was subjected to the same sort of examination: a new commission having been granted for the prosecution, and 'after the assistant-minister of Irvine, Mr. David Dickson, had made earnest prayers to God for opening her obdurate and closed heart, she was subjected to the torture of iron bars laid upon her bare shins, her feet being in the stocks. She endured this torture with incredible firmness, since she did "admirably, without any kind of din or exclamation, suffer above thirty stone of iron to be laid on her legs, never shrinking thereat in any sort, but remaining, as it were, steady." But in shifting the situation of the iron bars, and removing them to another part of her shins, her constancy gave way; she broke out into horrible cries of "Take off! take off!" On being relieved from the torture she made the usual confession of all that she was charged with, and of a connection with the devil which had subsisted for several years. Sentence was given against her accordingly. After this had been denounced she openly denied all her former confessions, and died without any sign of repentance; offering repeated interruptions to the minister in his prayers, and absolutely refusing to pardon the executioner.'[133] It might be possible to form an imperfect estimate of how many thousands were sacrificed in the Jacobian persecution in Scotland alone from existing historical records, which would express, however, but a small proportion of the actual number: and parish registers may still attest the quantity of fuel provided at a considerable expense, and the number of the fires. By a moderate computation an average number of two hundred annually, making a total of eight thousand, are reckoned to have been burned in the last forty years of the sixteenth century.[134] [133] _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, ix. The Scotch trials and tortures, of which the above cases are but one or two out of a hundred similar ones, are perhaps the more extraordinary as being the result of _mere_ superstition: religious or political heresy being seldom an excuse for the punishment and an aggravation of the offence. [134] A larger proportion of victims than even those of the Holy Office during an equal space of time. According to Llorente (_Hist. de l'Inquisition_) from 1680 to 1781, the latter period of its despotism (which flourished especially under Charles II., himself, as he was convinced, a victim of witch-malice), between 13,000 and 14,000 persons suffered by various punishments: of which number, however, 1,578 were burned alive. In England, from 1603 to 1680, seventy thousand persons are said to have been executed; and during the fifteen hundred years elapsed since the triumph of the Christian religion, millions are reckoned to have been sacrificed on the bloody altars of the Christian Moloch. An entry in the minutes of the proceedings in the Privy Council for 1608 reveals that even James's ministers began to experience some horror of the consequences of their instructions. And the following free testimony of one of them is truly 'an appalling record:'--'1608.--December 1.--The Earl of Mar declared to the council that some women were taken in Broughton [suburban Edinburgh] as witches, and being put to an assize and convicted, albeit they persevered constant in their denial to the end, yet they were burned _quick_ after such a cruel manner that some of them died in despair, renouncing and blaspheming God; and others half-burned broke out of the fire, and were cast _quick_ in it again till they were burned to the death.'[135] [135] The terrestrial and _real_ Fiends seem to have striven to realise on earth and to emulate the 'Tartarus horrificos eructans faucibus æstus' described by the Epicurean philosophic poet (Lucretius, _De Rerum Naturâ_, iii.). Equally monstrous and degrading were the disclosures in the torture-chambers; and many admitted that they had had children by the devil. The circumstances of the Sabbath, the various rites of the compact, the forms and method of bewitching, the manner of sexual intercourse with the demons--these were the principal staple of the judicial examinations. In the southern part of the island witch-hanging or burning proceeded with only less vehemence than in Scotland. One of the most celebrated cases in the earlier half of the seventeenth century (upon which Thomas Shadwell the poet laureate, who, under the name of MacFlecknoe, is immortalised by the satire of Dryden, founded a play) is the story of the Lancashire Witches. This persecution raged at two separate periods; first in 1613, when nineteen prisoners were brought before Sir James Altham and Sir Edward Bromley, Barons of Exchequer. Elizabeth Southern, known as 'Mother Demdike' in the poet laureate's drama, is the leader of the criminals. In 1634 the proceedings were renewed wholly on the evidence of a boy who, it was afterwards ascertained, had been instructed in his part against an old woman named Mother Dickenson. The evidence was of the feeblest sort; nor are its monotonous details worth repetition. Out of some forty persons implicated on both occasions, fortunately the greater number escaped. 'Lancashire Witches,' a term so hateful in its origin, has been long transferred to celebrate the superior _charms_ (of another kind) of the ladies of Lancashire; and the witches' spells are those of natural youth and beauty. The social position of Sir Thomas Overbury has made his fate notorious. An infamous plot had been invented by the Earl of Rochester (Robert Kerr) and the Countess of Essex to destroy a troublesome obstacle to their contemplated marriage. The practice of 'hellish charms' is only incidental; an episode in the dark mystery. Overbury was too well acquainted with royal secrets (whose disgusting and unnatural kind has been probably correctly conjectured), too important for the keeping of even a private secretary. His ruin was determined by the revenge of the noble lovers and sealed by the fear of the king. At the end of six months he had been gradually destroyed by secret poison in his prison in the Tower (to which for an alleged offence he had been committed) by the agency of Dr. Forman, a famous 'pharmaceutic,' under the auspices of the Earl of Rochester. This Dr. Forman had been previously employed by Lady Essex, a notorious _dame d'honneur_ at James's Court, to bewitch the Earl to an irresistible love for her, an enchantment which required, apparently, no superhuman inducement. A Mrs. Turner, the countess's agent, was associated with this skilful conjuror. They were instructed also to bewitch Lord Essex, lately returned from abroad, in the opposite way--to divert his love from his wife.[136] [136] The husband was impracticable; he could not be _disenchanted_. Conjurations and charms failing, 'the countess was instructed to bring against the Earl of Essex a charge of conjugal incapacity: A commission of reverend prelates of the church was appointed to sit in judgment, over whom the king presided in person; and a jury of matrons was found to give their opinion that the Lady Essex was a maiden.' Divorce was accordingly pronounced, and with all possible haste the king married his favourite to the appellant with great pomp at Court. After the conspirators had been arraigned by the public indignation, a curious incident of the trial, according to a cotemporary report, was, that there being 'showed in court certain pictures of a man and a woman made in lead, and also a mould of brass wherein they were cast; a black scarf also full of white crosses which Mrs. Turner had in her custody; enchanted paps and other pictures [as well as a list of some of the devil's particular names used in conjuration], suddenly was heard a crack from the scaffold, which carried a great fear, tumult, and commotion amongst the spectators and through the hall; every one fearing hurt as if the devil had been present and grown angry to have his workmanship known by such as were not his own scholars' (_Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_, by Thomas Wright). Whatever may have been the crime or crimes for the knowledge of which Sir Thomas Overbury was doomed, it is significant that for his own safety the king was compelled to break an oath (sworn upon his knees before the judges he had purposely summoned, with an imprecation that God's curse might light upon him and his posterity for ever if he failed to bring the guilty to deserved punishment), and to not only pardon but remunerate his former favourite after he had been solemnly convicted and condemned to a felon's death. The crime, the knowledge of which prevented the appearance of Somerset at the gibbet or the scaffold, has been supposed by some, with scarcely sufficient cause or at least proof, to be the murder by the king of his son Prince Henry. Doubt has been strongly expressed of the implication at all of the favourite in the death of Overbury: the evidence produced at the trial about the poisoning being, it seems, made up to conceal or to mystify the real facts. Two women were executed at Lincoln, in 1618, for bewitching Lord Rosse, eldest son of the Earl of Rutland, and others of the family--Lord Rosse being bewitched to death; also for preventing by diabolic arts the parents from having any more children. Before the Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas and one of the Barons of the Exchequer, it was proved that the witches had effected the death of the noble lord by burying his glove in the ground, and 'as that glove did rot and waste, so did the liver of the said lord rot and waste.' Margaret Flower confessed she had 'two familiar spirits sucking on her, the one white, the other black spotted. The white sucked under her left breast,' &c. CHAPTER VIII. The Literature of Europe in the Seventeenth Century proves the Universality and Horror of Witchcraft--The most acute and most liberal Men of Learning convinced of its Reality--Erasmus and Francis Bacon--Lawyers prejudiced by Legislation--Matthew Hale's judicial Assertion--Sir Thomas Browne's Testimony--John Selden--The English Church least Ferocious of the Protestant Sects--Jewell and Hooker--Independent Tolerance--Witchcraft under the Presbyterian Government--Matthew Hopkins--Gaule's 'Select Cases of Conscience'--Judicial and Popular Methods of Witch-discovery--Preventive Charms--Witchfinders a legal and numerous Class in England and Scotland--Remission in the Severity of the Persecution under the Protectorship. Had we not the practical proof of the prevalence of the credit of the black art in accomplished facts, the literature of the first half of the seventeenth century would be sufficient testimony to its horrid dominion. The works of the great dramatists, the writings of men of every class, continually suppose the universal power and horror of witchcraft. Internal evidence is abundant. The witches of Macbeth are no fanciful creation, and Shakspeare's representation of La Pucelle's fate is nothing more than a copy from life. What the vulgar superstition must have been may be easily conceived when men of the greatest genius or learning credited the possibility, and not only a theoretical but actual occurrence, of these infernal phenomena. Gibbon is at a loss to account for the fact that the acute understanding of the learned Erasmus, who could see through much more plausible fables, believed firmly in witchcraft.[137] Francis Bacon, the advocate and second founder of the inductive method and first apostle of the Utilitarian philosophy, opposed though he might have been to the vulgar persecution, was not able to get rid of the principles upon which the creed was based.[138] Sir Edward Coke, his contemporary, the most acute lawyer of the age, or (as it is said) of any time, ventured even to define the devil's agents in witchcraft. Sir Thomas Browne (author of 'Pseudodoxia Epidemica' or 'Vulgar Errors!'), a physician and writer of considerable merit, and Sir Matthew Hale, in 1664, proved their faith, the one by his solemn testimony in open court, the other by his still more solemn sentence. [137] See _Miscellaneous Works: Abstract of my Readings_. [138] 'Consorting with them [the unclean spirits who have fallen from their first estate] and all use of their assistance is unlawful; much more any worship or veneration whatsoever. But a contemplation and knowledge of their nature, power, illusions, not only from passages of sacred scripture but _from reason or experience_, is not the least part of spiritual wisdom. So truly the Apostle, "We are not ignorant of his wiles." And it is not less permissible in theology to investigate the nature of demons, than in physics to investigate the nature of drugs, or in ethics the nature of vice.'--_De Augmentis Scientiarum_, lib. iii. 2. If theologians were armed by the authority or their interpretation of Scripture, lawyers were no less so by that of the Statute Book. Judge Hale, in an address to the jury at Bury St. Edmund's, carefully weighing evidence, and, summing up, assures them he did 'not in the least doubt there are witches: first, because _the Scriptures affirmed it_; secondly, because the _wisdom of all nations_, particularly of our own, _had provided laws_ against witchcraft which implied their belief of such a crime.'[139] Sir Thomas Browne, who gave his professional experience at this trial, to the effect that the devil often acts upon human bodies by natural means, afflicting them in a more surprising manner through the diseases to which they are usually subject; and that in the particular case, the fits (of vomiting nails, needles, deposed by other witnesses) might be natural, only raised to a great degree by the subtlety of the devil cooperating with the malice of the witches, employs a well-known argument when he declares ('Religio Medici'), 'Those that to confute their incredulity desire to see apparitions shall questionless never behold any. The devil hath these already in a heresy as capital as witchcraft; and to appear to them were _but_ to convert them.' [139] Unfortunately for the cause of truth and right, Sir Matthew Hale's reasons are not an exceptional illustration of the mischief according to Roger Bacon's experience of 'three very bad arguments we are always using--This has been shown to be so; This is customary; This is universal: Therefore it must be kept to.' Sir Thomas Browne, unable, as a man of science, to accept in every particular alleged the actual bonâ fide reality of the devil's power, makes a compromise, and has 'recourse to a fraud of Satan,' explaining that he is in reality but a clever juggler, a transcendent physician who knows how to accomplish what is in relation to us a prodigy, in knowing how to use natural forces which our knowledge has not yet discovered. Such an unworthy compromise was certainly not fitted to arouse men from their 'cauchemar démonologique.'--See _Révue des Deux Mondes_, Aug. 1, 1858. John Selden, a learned lawyer, but of a liberal mind, was gifted with a large amount of common sense, and it might be juster to attribute the _dictum_ which has been supposed to betray 'a lurking belief' to an excess of legal, rather than to a defect of intellectual, perception. Selden, inferring that 'the law against witches does not prove there be any, but it punishes the malice of those people that use such means to take away men's lives,' proceeds to assert that 'if one should profess that by turning his hat thrice and crying "Buz," he could take away a man's life (though in truth he could do no such thing), yet this were a just law made by the state, that whosoever shall turn his hat ... with an intention to take away a man's life, should be put to death.'[140] [140] _Table Talk or Discourses_ of John Selden. Although it must be excepted to the lawyer's summary mode of dealing with an imaginary offence, we prefer to give that eminent patriot at least the benefit of the doubt, as to his belief in witchcraft. If men of more liberal sentiments were thus enslaved to old prejudices, it is not surprising that the Church, not leading but following, should firmly maintain them. Fortunately for the witches, without the motives actuating in different ways Catholics and Calvinists, and placed midway between both parties, the reformed English Church was not so much interested in identifying her crimes with sorcerers as in maintaining the less tremendous formulæ of Divine right, Apostolical succession, and similar pretensions. Yet if they did not so furiously engage themselves in actual witch-prosecutions, Anglican divines have not been slow in expressly or impliedly affirming the reality of diabolical interposition. Nor can the most favourable criticism exonerate them from the reproach at least of having witnessed without protestation the barbarous cruelties practised in the name of heaven; and the eminent names of Bishop Jewell, the great apologist of the English Church, and of the author of the 'Ecclesiastical Polity,' among others less eminent, may be claimed by the advocates of witchcraft as respectable authorities in the Established Church. The 'judicious' Hooker affirms that the evil spirits are dispersed, some in the air, some on the earth, some in the waters, some among the minerals, in dens and caves that are under the earth, labouring to obstruct and, if possible, to destroy the works of God. They were the _dii inferi_ [the old persuasion] of the heathen worshipped in oracles, in idols, &c.[141] The privilege of 'casting out devils' was much cherished and long retained in the Established Church. [141] Quoted in Howitt's _History of the Supernatural_. The author has collected a mass of evidence 'demonstrating an universal faith,' a curious collection of various superstition. He is indignant at the colder faith of the Anglican Church of later times. During the ascendency of the Presbyterian party from 1640 to the assumption of the Protectorship by Cromwell, witches and witch-trials increased more than ever; and they sensibly decreased only when the Independents obtained a superiority. The adherents of Cromwell, whatever may have been their own fanatical excesses, were at least exempt from the intolerant spirit which characterised alike their Anglican enemies and their old Presbyterian allies. The astute and vigorous intellect of the great revolutionary leader, the champion of the people in its struggles for civil and religious liberty, however much he might affect the forms of the prevailing religious sentiment, was too sagacious not to be able to penetrate, with the aid of the counsels of the author of the 'Treatise of Civil Power in Ecclesiastical Causes,' who so triumphantly upheld the fundamental principle of Protestantism,[142] somewhat beneath the surface. In what manner the Presbyterian Parliament issued commissions for inquiring into the crimes of sorcery, how zealously they were supported by the clergy and people, how Matthew Hopkins--immortal in the annals of English witchcraft--exercised his talents as witchfinder-general, are facts well known.[143] [142] 'Seeing therefore,' infers Milton, the greatest of England's patriots as well as poets, 'that no man, no synod, no session of men, though called the Church, can judge definitively the sense of Scripture to another man's conscience, which is well known to be a maxim of the Protestant religion; it follows plainly, that he who holds in religion that belief or those opinions which to his conscience and utmost understanding appear with most evidence or probability in the Scripture, though to others he seem erroneous, can no more be justly censured for a heretic than his censurers, who do but the same thing themselves, while they censure him for so doing.... To Protestants therefore, whose common rule and touchstone is the Scripture, nothing can with more conscience, more equity, nothing more Protestantly can be permitted than a free and lawful debate at all times by writing, conference, or disputation of what opinion soever disputable by Scripture.... How many persecutions, then, imprisonments, banishments, penalties, and stripes; how much bloodshed, have the forcers of conscience to answer for--and Protestants rather than Papists!' (_A Treatise of Civil Power in Ecclesiastical Causes._) The reasons which induced Milton to exclude the Catholics of his day from the general toleration are more intelligible and more plausible, than those of fifty or sixty years since, when the Rev. Sidney Smith published the _Letters of Peter Plymley_. [143] Displayed in the satire of _Hudibras_, particularly in Part II. canto 3, Part III. 1, and the notes of Zachary Grey. The author of this amusing political satire has exposed the foibles of the great Puritan party with all the rancour of a partisan. That the strenuous antagonists of despotic dogmas, by whom the principles of English liberty were first inaugurated, that they should so fanatically abandon their reason to a monstrous idea, is additional proof of the universality of superstitious prejudice. But the conviction, the result of a continual political religious persecution of their tenets, that if heaven was on their side Satan and the powers of darkness were still more inimical, cannot be fully understood unless by referring to those scenes of murder and torture. Hunted with relentless ferocity like wild beasts, holding conventicles and prayer meetings with the sword suspended over their heads, it is not surprising that at that period these English and Scotch Calvinists came to believe that they were the peculiar objects of diabolical as well as human malice. Their whole history during the first eighty years of the seventeenth century can alone explain this faith. Besides this genuine feeling, the clergy of the Presbyterian sect might be interested in maintaining a creed which must magnify their credit as miracle-workers.[144] [144] The author of _Hudibras_, in the interview of the Knight and Sidrophel (William Lilly), enumerates the various practices and uses of astrology and witchcraft in vogue at this time, and employed by Court and Parliament with equal eagerness and emulation. Dr. Zachary Grey, the sympathetic editor of _Hudibras_, supplies much curious information on the subject in extracts from various old writers. 'The Parliament,' as he states, 'took a sure way to secure all prophecies, prodigies, and almanac-news from stars, &c., in favour of their own side, by appointing a licenser thereof, and strictly forbidding and punishing all such as were not licensed. Their man for this purpose was the famous Booker, an astrologer, fortune-teller, almanac-maker, &c. The words of his license in Rushorth are very remarkable--for mathematics, almanacs, and prognostications. If we may believe Lilly, both he and Booker did conjure and prognosticate well for their friends the Parliament. He tells us, "When he applied for a license for his _Merlinus Anglicus Junior_ (in Ap. 1644), Booker wondered at the book, made many impertinent obliterations, framed many objections, and swore it was not possible to distinguish between a king and a parliament; and at last licensed it according to his own fancy. Lilly delivered it to the printer, who, being an arch-Presbyterian, had five of the ministers to inspect it, who could make nothing of it, but said it might be printed; for in that he meddled not with their Dagon." (_Lilly's Life._) Which opposition to Lilly's book arose from a jealousy that he was not then thoroughly in the Parliament's interest--which was true; for he frankly confesses, "that till the year 1645 he was more Cavalier than Roundhead, and so taken notice of; but after that he engaged body and soul in the cause of the Parliament."' (_Life._) Lilly was succeeded successively by his assistant Henry Coley, and John Partridge, the well-known object of Swift's satire. The years 1644 and 1645 are distinguished as especially abounding in witches and witchfinders. In the former year, at Manningtree, a village in Essex, during an outbreak in which several women were tried and hanged, Matthew Hopkins first displayed his peculiar talent. Associated with him in his recognised legal profession was one John Sterne. They proceeded regularly on their circuit, making a fixed charge for their services upon each town or village. Swimming and searching for secret marks were the infallible methods of discovery. Hopkins, encouraged by an unexpected success, arrogantly assumed the title of 'Witchfinder-General.' His modest charges (as he has told us) were twenty shillings a town, which paid the expenses of travelling and living, and an additional twenty shillings a head for every criminal brought to trial, or at least to execution. The eastern counties of Huntingdon, Cambridge, Suffolk, Northampton, Bedford, were chiefly traversed; and some two or three hundred persons appear to have been sent to the gibbet or the stake by his active exertions. One of these specially remembered was the aged _parson_ of a village near Framlingham, Mr. Lowes, who was hanged at Bury St. Edmund's. The pious Baxter, an eyewitness, thus commemorates the event: 'The hanging of a great number of witches in 1645 and 1646 is famously known. Mr. Calamy went along with the judges on the circuit to hear their confessions and see that there was no fraud or wrong done them. I spoke with many understanding, pious, learned, and credible persons that lived in the counties, and some that went to them in the prison and heard their sad confessions. Among the rest, an old _reading_ parson named Lowes, not far from Framlingham, was one that was hanged, who confessed that he had two imps, and that one of them was always putting him upon doing mischief; and he being near the sea as he saw a ship under sail, it moved him to send it to sink the ship, and he consented and saw the ship sink before them.' Sterne, Hopkins's coadjutor, in an Apology published not long afterwards, asserts that Lowes had been indicted thirty years before for witchcraft; that he had made a covenant with the devil, sealing it with his blood, and had those familiars or spirits which sucked on the marks found on his body; that he had confessed that, besides the notable mischief of sinking the aforesaid vessel and making fourteen widows in one quarter of an hour, he had effected many other calamities; that far from repenting of his wickedness, he rejoiced in the power of his imps. The excessive destruction and cruelty perpetrated by the indiscriminate procedure of the Witchfinder-General incited a Mr. Gaule, vicar of Great Staughton in Huntingdonshire, to urge some objections to the inhuman character of his method. Gaule, like John Cotta before him and others of that class, was provoked to challenge the propriety of the ordinary prosecutions, not so much from incredulity as from humanity, which revolted at the extravagance of the judges' cruelty. In 'Select Cases of Conscience touching Witches and Witchcraft,' the minister of Great Staughton describes from personal knowledge one of the ordinary ways of detecting the guilt of the accused. 'Having taken the suspected witch, she is placed in the middle of a room upon a stool or table, cross-legged, or in some other uneasy position, to which, if she submits not, she is then bound with cords: there is she watched and kept without meat or sleep for the space of four-and-twenty hours (for they say within that time they shall see her imps come and suck); a little hole is likewise made in the door for the imps to come in at, and, lest they should come in some less discernible shape, they that watch are taught to be ever and anon sweeping the room, and if they see any spiders or flies to kill them; and if they cannot kill them, then they may be sure they are her imps.' 'Swimming' and 'pricking' were the approved modes of discovery. By the former method the witch was stripped naked, securely bound (hands and feet being crossed), rolled up in a blanket or cloth, and carried to the nearest water, upon which she was laid on her back, with the alternative of floating or sinking. In case of the former event (the water not seldom refusing to receive the wretch, because--declares James I.--they had impiously thrown off the holy water of baptism) she was rescued for the fire or the gallows; while, in case of sinking to the bottom, she would be properly and clearly acquitted of the suspected guilt. Hopkins prided himself most on his ability for detecting special marks. Causing the suspected woman to be stripped naked, or as far as the waist (as the case might be), sometimes in public, this stigmatic professor began to search for the hidden signs with unsparing scrutiny. Upon finding a mole or wart or any similar mark, they tried the 'insensibleness thereof' by inserting needles, pins, awls, or any sharp-pointed instrument; and in an old and withered crone it might not be difficult to find somewhere a more insensitive spot. Such examinations were conducted with disregard equally for humanity and decency. All the disgusting circumstances must be sought for in the works of the writers upon the subject. Reginald Scot has collected many of the commonest. These marks were considered to be teats at which the demons or imps were used to be suckled. Many were the judicial and vulgar methods of detecting the guilty--by repeating the 'Lord's Prayer;' weighing against the church Bible; making them shed tears--for a witch can shed tears only with the left eye, and that only with difficulty and in limited quantity. The counteracting or preventive charms are as numerous as curious, not a few being in repute in some parts at this day. 'Drawing blood' was most effective. Nailing up a horse-shoe is one of the best-known preventives. That efficacious counter-charm used to be suspended over the entrance of churches and houses, and no wizard or witch could brave it.[145] 'Scoring above the breath' is omnipotent in Scotland, where the witch was cut or 'scotched' on the face and forehead. Cutting off secretly a lock of the hair of the accused, burning the thatch of her roof and the thing bewitched; these are a few of the least offensive or obscene practices in counter-charming.[146] In what degree or kind the Fetish-charms of the African savages are more ridiculous or disgusting than those popular in England 200 years ago, it would not be easy to determine. [145] Gay's witch complains: 'Straws, laid across, my pace retard. The horse-shoe's nailed, each threshold's guard. The stunted broom the wenches hide For fear that I should up and ride. They stick with pins my bleeding seat, And bid me show my secret teat.' [146] The various love-charms, amulets, and spells in the pharmacy of witchcraft are (like the waxen image known, both to the ancient and modern art) equally monstrous and absurd. Of a more natural and pleasing sort was the [Greek: himas poikilos], the irresistible charm of Aphrodite. Here-- [Greek: Thelktêria panta tetykto; Enth' eni men philotês, en d' himeros, en d' oaristys, Parphasis, hê t' eklepse noon pyka per phroneontôn.] Matthew Hopkins pursued a lucrative trade in witch-hunting for some years with much applause and success. His indiscriminating accusations at last excited either the alarm or the indignation of his townspeople, if we may believe the tradition suggested in the well-known verses of Butler, who has no authority, apparently, for his insinuation ('Hudibras,' ii. 3), that this eminent _Malleus_ did not die 'the common death of all men.' However it happened, his death is placed in the year 1647. An Apology shortly before had been published by him in refutation of an injurious report gaining ground that he was himself intimately allied with the devil, from whom he had obtained a memorandum book in which were entered the names of all the witches in England. It is entitled 'The Discovery of Witches; in Answer to several Queries lately delivered to the Judge of Assize for the County of Norfolk; and now published by Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder, for the Benefit of the whole Kingdom. Printed for R. Royston, at the Angel in Inn Lane, 1647.'[147] It is, indeed, sufficiently probable that, confident of the increasing coolness, and perhaps of the wishes, of the magistrates, the mob, ever ready to wreak vengeance upon a disgraced favourite who has long abused the public patience, retaliated upon Hopkins a method of torture he had frequently inflicted upon others.[148] [147] Quoted by Sir W. Scott from a copy of this 'very rare tract' in his possession. [148] Dr. Francis Hutchinson (Historical Essay), referring to the verses of Samuel Butler, says that he had often heard that some persons, 'out of indignation at the barbarity [of the witchfinder], took him and tied his own thumbs and toes, as he used to tie others; and when he was put into the water, he himself swam as they did.' But whether the usual fate upon that event awaited him does not appear. The verses in question are the following:-- 'has not he, within a year, Hang'd threescore of 'em in one shire, * * * * * Who after prov'd himself a witch, And made a rod for his own breech?' The Knight's Squire on the same occasion reminds his master of the more notorious of the devil's tricks of that and the last age:-- 'Did not the devil appear to Martin Luther in Germany for certain, And would have gull'd him with a trick But Mart was too, too politic? Did he not help the Dutch to purge At Antwerp their cathedral church? Sing catches to the saints at Mascon, And tell them all they came to ask him? Appear in divers shapes to Kelly, And speak i' th' nun of Loudun's belly? Meet with the Parliament's committee At Woodstock on a pers'nal treaty? ... &c. &c.' _Hudibras_, II. 3. Hopkins is the most famous of his class on account of his superior talent; but both in England and Scotland witchfinders, or _prickers_, as they were sometimes called, before and since his time abounded--of course most where the superstition raged fiercest. In Scotland they infested all parts of the country, practising their detestable but legal trade with entire impunity. The Scottish prickers enjoyed a great reputation for skill and success; and on a special occasion, about the time when Hopkins was practising in the South, the magistrates of Newcastle-upon-Tyne summoned from Scotland one of great professional experience to visit that town, then overrun with witches. The magistrates agreed to pay him all travelling expenses, and twenty shillings for every convicted criminal. A bellman was sent round the town to invite all complainants to prefer their charges. Some thirty women, having been brought to the town-hall, were publicly subjected to an examination. By the ordinary process, twenty-seven on this single occasion were ascertained to be guilty, of whom, at the ensuing assizes, fourteen women and one man were convicted by the jury and executed. Three thousand are said to have suffered for the crime in England under the supremacy of the Long Parliament. A respite followed on this bloody persecution when the Independents came into power, but it was renewed with almost as much violence upon the return of the Stuarts. The Protectorship had been fitly inaugurated by the rational protest of a gentleman, witness to the proceedings at one of the trials, Sir Robert Filmore, in a tract, 'An Advertizement to the Jurymen of England touching Witches.' This was followed two years later by a similar protest by one Thomas Ady, called, 'A Candle in the Dark; or, a Treatise concerning the Nature of Witches and Witchcraft: being Advice to Judges, Sheriffs, Justices of the Peace and Grand Jurymen, what to do before they pass Sentence on such as are arraigned for their Lives as Witches.' Notwithstanding the general toleration of the Commonwealth, in 1652, the year before Cromwell assumed the Dictatorship (1653-1658), there appeared to be a tendency to return to the old system, and several were executed in different parts of the country. Six were hanged at Maidstone. 'Some there were that wished rather they might be burned to ashes, alleging that it was a received opinion amongst many that the body of a witch being burned, her blood is thereby prevented from becoming hereafter hereditary to her progeny in the same evil, while by hanging it is not; but whether this opinion be erroneous or not,' the reporter adds, 'I am not to dispute.' CHAPTER IX. Glanvil's Sadducismus Triumphatus--His Sentiments on Witchcraft and Demonology--Baxter's 'Certainty of the World of Spirits,' &c.--Witch Trial at Bury St. Edmund's by Sir Matthew Hale, 1664--The Evidence adduced in Court--Two Witches hanged--Three hanged at Exeter in 1682--The last Witches judicially executed in England--Uniformity of the Evidence adduced at the Trials--Webster's Attack upon the Witch-Creed in 1677--Witch Trials in England at the end of the Seventeenth Century--French Parliaments vindicate the Diabolic Reality of the Crime--Witchcraft in Sweden. The bold licentiousness and ill-concealed scepticism of Charles II. and his Court, whose despotic prejudices, however, supported by the zeal of the Church, prosecuted dissenters from a form of religion which maintained 'the right divine of kings to govern wrong,' might be indifferent to the prejudice of witchcraft. But the princes and despots of former times have seldom been more careful of the lives than they have been of the liberties, of their subjects. The formal apology for the reality of that crime published by Charles II.'s chaplain-in-ordinary, the Rev. Dr. Joseph Glanvil, against the modern Sadducees (a very inconsiderable sect) who denied both ghosts and witches, their well-attested apparitions and acts, has been already noticed. His philosophic inquiry (so he terms it) into the nature and operations of witchcraft (_Sadducismus Triumphatus_, Sadduceeism Vanquished, or 'Considerations about Witchcraft'), was occasioned by a case that came under the author's personal observation--the 'knockings' of the demon of Tedworth in the house of a Mr. Mompesson. The Tedworth demon must have been of that sort of active spirits which has been so obliging of late in enlightening the spiritual _séances_ of our time. Glanvil traces the steps by which a well-meaning student may unwarily be involved in _diablerie_. This philosophical inquirer observes:--'Those mystical students may, in their first address to the science [astrology], have no other design than the satisfaction of their curiosity to know remote and hidden things; yet that in the progress, being not satisfied within the bounds of their art, doth many times tempt the curious inquirer to use worse means of information; and no doubt those mischievous spirits, that are as vigilant as the beasts of prey, and watch all occasions to get us within their envious reach, are more constant attenders and careful spies upon the actions and inclinations of such whose genius and designs prepare them for their temptations. So that I look on judicial astrology as a fair introduction to sorcery and witchcraft; and who knows but it was first set on foot by the infernal hunters as a lure to draw the _curiosos_ into those snares that lie hid beyond it. And yet I believe it may be innocently enough studied.... I believe there are very few among those who have been addicted to those strange arts of wonder and prediction, but have found themselves attacked by some unknown solicitors, and enticed by them to the more dangerous actions and correspondencies. For as there are a sort of base and sordid spirits that attend the envy and malice of the ignorant and viler sort of persons, and betray them into compacts by promises of revenge; so, no doubt, there are a kind of more airy and speculative fiends, of a higher rank and order than those wretched imps, who apply themselves to the curious.... Yea, and sometimes they are so cautious and wary in their conversations with more refined persons, that they never offer to make any _express_ covenant with them. And to this purpose, I have been informed by a very reverend and learned doctor that one Mr. Edwards, a Master of Arts of Trinity College, in Cambridge, being reclaimed from conjuration, declared in his repentance that the demon always appeared to him like a man of good fashion, and never required any compact from him: and no doubt they sort themselves agreeably to the rate, post, and genius of those with whom they converse.'[149] [149] _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, section xvi. The sentiments of the royal chaplain on demonology are curious. 'Since good men,' he argues, 'in their state of separation are said to be [Greek: isangeloi], why the wicked may not be supposed to be [Greek: isodaimones] (in the worst sense of the word), I know nothing to help me to imagine. And if it be supposed that the imps of witches are sometimes wicked spirits of our own kind and nature, and possibly the same that have been witches and sorcerers in this life: this supposal may give a fairer and more probable account of many of the actions of sorcery and witchcraft than the other hypothesis, that they are always devils. And to this conjecture I will venture to subjoin another, which hath also its probability, viz. that it is not improbable but the familiars of witches are a vile kind of spirits of a very inferior constitution and nature; and none of those that were once of the highest hierarchy now degenerated into the spirits we call devils.... And that all the superior--yea, and inferior--regions have their several kinds of spirits, differing in their natural perfections as well as in the kinds and degrees of their depravities; which being supposed, 'tis very probable that those of the basest and meanest sorts are they who submit to the servilities.'[150] It is a curious speculation how the old apologists of witchcraft would regard the modern 'curiosos'--the adventurous _spirit-media_ of the present day, and whether the consulted spirits are of 'base and sordid rank,' or are 'a kind of airy and more speculative fiends.' It is fair to infer, perhaps, that they are of the latter class. [150] _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, Part I. sect. 4. Affixed to this work is a _Collection of Relations_ of well-authenticated instances. Glanvil was one of the first Fellows of the recently established Royal Society. He is the author of a philosophical treatise of great merit--the _Scepsis Scientifica_--a review of which occupies several pages of _The Introduction to the Literature of Europe_, and which is favourably considered by Hallam. Not the least unaccountable fact in the history and literature of witchcraft is the absurd contradiction involved in the unbounded credulity of writers (who were sceptical on almost every other subject) on the one subject of demonology. The author of the 'Saints' Everlasting Rest,' the moderate and conscientious Baxter, was a contemporary of the Anglican divine. In another and later work this voluminous theological writer more fully developed his spiritualistic ideas. 'The Certainty of the World of Spirits fully evinced by unquestionable Histories of Apparitions, Witchcrafts, Operations, Voices, &c., proving the Immortality of Souls, the Malice and Misery of Devils and the Damned, and the Blessedness of the Justified. Written for the Conviction of Sadducees and Infidels,' was a formidable inscription which must have overawed, if it did not subdue, the infidelity of the modern Sadducees.[151] [151] It would not be an uninteresting, but it would be a melancholy, task to investigate the reasoning, or rather unreasoning, process which involved such honest men as Richard Baxter in a maze of credulity. While they rejected the principle of the ever-recurring ecclesiastical miracles of Catholicism (so sympathetic as well as useful to ardent faith), their devout imagination yet required the aid of a present supernaturalism to support their faith amidst the perplexing doubts and difficulties of ordinary life, and they gladly embraced the consoling belief that the present evils are the work of the enmity of the devil, whose temporary sovereignty, however, should be overthrown in the world to come, when the faith and constancy of his victims shall be eternally rewarded. The sentence and execution of two old women at Bury St. Edmund's, in 1664, has been already noticed. This trial was carried on with circumstances of great solemnity and with all the external forms of justice--Sir Matthew Hale presiding as Lord Chief Baron: and the following is a portion of the evidence which was received two hundred years ago in an English Court of Justice and under the presidency of one of the greatest ornaments of the English Bench. One of the witnesses, a woman named Dorothy Durent, deposed that she had quarrelled with one Amy Duny, immediately after which her infant child was seized with fits. 'And the said examinant further stated that she being troubled at her child's distemper did go to a certain person named Doctor Job Jacob, who lived at Yarmouth, who had the reputation in the country to help children that were bewitched; who advised her to hang up the child's blanket in the chimney-corner all day, and at night when she put the child to bed to put it into the said blanket; and if she found anything in it she should not be afraid, but throw it into the fire. And this deponent did according to his direction; and at night when she took down the blanket with an intent to put the child therein, there fell out of the same a great toad which ran up and down the hearth; and she, having a young youth only with her in the house, desired him to catch the toad and throw it into the fire, which the youth did accordingly, and held it there with the tongs; and as soon as it was in the fire it made a great and terrible noise; and after a space there was a flashing in the fire like gunpowder, making a noise like the discharge of a pistol, and thereupon the toad was no more seen nor heard. It was asked by the Court if that, after the noise and flashing, there was not the substance of the toad to be seen to consume in the fire; and it was answered by the said Dorothy Durent that after the flashing and noise there was no more seen than if there had been none there. The next day there came a young woman, a kinswoman of the said Amy, and a neighbour of this deponent, and told this deponent that her aunt (meaning the said Amy) was in a most lamentable condition, having her face all scorched with fire, and that she was sitting alone in her house in her smock without any fire. And therefore this deponent went into the house of the said Amy Duny to see her, and found her in the same condition as was related to her; for her face, her legs, and thighs, which this deponent saw, seemed very much scorched and burnt with fire; at which this deponent seemed much to wonder, and asked how she came in that sad condition. And the said Amy replied that she might thank her for it, for that she (deponent) was the cause thereof; but she should live to see some of her children dead, and she upon crutches. And this deponent further saith, that after the burning of the said toad her child recovered and was well again, and was living at the time of the Assizes.' The accused were next arraigned for having bewitched the family of Mr. Samuel Pacy, merchant, of Lowestoft. The witch turned away from their door had at once inflicted summary vengeance by sending some fearful fits and pains in the stomach, apparently caused by an internal pricking of pins; the children shrieking out violently, vomiting nails, pins, and needles, and exclaiming against several women of ill-repute in the town; especially against two of them, Amy Duny and Rose Cullender. A friend of the family appeared in court, and deposed: 'At some times the children would see things run up and down the house in the appearance of mice, and one of them suddenly snapt one with the tongs and threw it into the fire, and it screeched out like a bat. At another time the younger child, being out of her fits, went out of doors to take a little fresh air, and presently a little thing like a bee flew upon her face and would have gone into her mouth, whereupon the child ran in all haste to the door to get into the house again, shrieking out in a most terrible manner. Whereupon this deponent made haste to come to her; but before she could get to her the child fell into her swooning fit, and at last, with much pain and straining herself, she vomited up a twopenny nail with a broad head; and being demanded by this deponent how she came by this nail, she answered that the bee brought this nail and forced it into her mouth. And at other times the elder child declared unto this deponent that during the time of her fits she saw flies come unto her and bring with them in their mouths crooked pins; and after the child had thus declared the same she fell again into violent fits, and afterwards raised several pins. At another time the said elder child declared unto this deponent, and sitting by the fire suddenly started up and said she saw a mouse; and she crept under the table, looking after it; and at length she put something in her apron, saying she had caught it. And immediately she ran to the fire and threw it in; and there did appear upon it to this deponent like the flashing of gunpowder, though she confessed she saw nothing in the child's hands.' Another witness was the mother of a servant girl, Susanna Chandler, whose depositions are of much the same kind, but with the addition that her daughter was sometimes stricken with blindness and dumbness by demoniacal contrivance at the moment when her testimony was required in court. 'Being brought into court at the trial, she suddenly fell into her fits, and being carried out of the court again, within the space of half an hour she came to herself and recovered her speech; and thereupon was immediately brought into the court, and asked by the Court whether she was in condition to take an oath and to give evidence. She said she could. But when she was sworn and asked what she could say against either of the prisoners, before she could make any answer she fell into her fits, shrieking out in a miserable manner, crying "Burn her! burn her!" which was all the words she could speak.' Doubts having been hazarded by one or two of the less credulous of the origin of the fits and contortions, 'to avoid this scruple, it was privately desired by the judge that the Lord Cornwallis, Sir Edmund Bacon, and Mr. Serjeant Keeling and some other gentlemen there in court, would attend one of the distempered persons in the farthest part of the hall whilst she was in her fits, and then to send for one of the witches to try what would then happen, which they did accordingly.' Some of the possessed, having been put to the proof by having their eyes covered, and being touched upon the hand by one of those present, fell into contortions as if they had been touched by the witches. The suspicion of imposture thus raised was quickly silenced by fresh proof. Robert Sherringham, farmer, deposed that 'about two years since, passing along the street with his cart and horses, the axle-tree of his cart touched her house and broke down some part of it; at which she was very much displeased, threatening him that his horses should suffer for it. And so it happened; for all those horses, being four in number, died within a short time after. Since that time he hath had great losses by sudden dying of his other cattle. So soon as his sows pigged, the pigs would leap and caper, and immediately fall down and die. Also, not long after, he was taken with a lameness in his limbs that he could neither go nor stand for some days.'[152] [152] This witness finished his evidence by informing the Court that 'after all this, he was very much vexed with a great number of lice, of extraordinary bigness; and although he many times shifted himself, yet he was not anything the better, but would swarm again with them. So that in the conclusion he was forced to burn all his clothes, being two suits of apparel, and then was clear from them.'--_Narratives of Sorcery_, &c., from the most authentic sources, by Thomas Wright. The extreme ridiculousness, even more than the iniquity, of the accusations may be deemed the principal characteristic of such procedures: these _childish_ indictments were received with eagerness by prosecutors, jury, and judge. After half an hour's deliberation the jury returned a unanimous verdict against the prisoners, who were hanged, protesting their innocence to the end. The year before, a woman named Julian Coxe was hanged at Taunton on the evidence of a hunter that a hare, which had taken refuge from his pursuit in a bush, was found on the opposite side in the likeness of a witch, who had assumed the form of the animal, and taken the opportunity of her hiding-place to resume her proper shape. In 1682 three women were executed at Exeter. Their witchcraft was of the same sort as that of the Bury witches. Little variety indeed appears in the English witchcraft as brought before the courts of law. They chiefly consist in hysterical, epileptic, or other fits, accompanied by vomiting of various witch-instruments of torture. The Exeter witches are memorable as the last executed judicially in England. Attacks upon the superstition of varying degrees of merit were not wanting during any period of the seventeenth century. Webster, who, differing in this respect from most of his predecessors, declared his opinion that the whole of witchcraft was founded on natural phenomena, credulity, torture, imposture, or delusion, has deserved to be especially commemorated among the advocates of common sense. He had been well acquainted in his youth with the celebrated Lancashire Witches' case, and enjoyed good opportunities of studying the absurd obscenities of the numerous examinations. His meritorious work was given to the world in 1677, under the title of 'The Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft.' Towards the close of the century witch-trials still occur; but the courts of justice were at length freed from the reproach of legal murders. The great revolution of 1688, which set the principles of Protestantism on a firmer basis, could not fail to effect an intellectual as well as a political change. A recognition of the claims of common sense (at least on the subject of diabolism) seemed to begin from that time; and in 1691, when some of the criminals were put upon their trial at Frome, in Somersetshire, they were acquitted, not without difficulty, by the exertion of the better reason of the presiding judge, Lord Chief Justice Holt. Fortunately for the accused, Lord Chief Justice Holt was a person of sense, as well as legal acuteness; for he sat as judge at a great number of the trials in different parts of the kingdom. Both prosecutors and juries were found who would willingly have sent the proscribed convicts to death. But the age was arrived when at last it was to be discovered that fire and torture can extinguish neither witchcraft nor any other heresy; and the princes and parliaments of Europe seemed to begin to recognise in part the philosophical maxim that, 'heresy and witchcraft are two crimes which commonly increase by punishment, and are never so effectually suppressed as by being totally neglected.' In France, until about the year 1670, there was little abatement in the fury or number of the prosecutions. In that year several women had been sentenced to death for frequenting the _Domdaniel_ or Sabbath meeting by the provincial parliament of Normandy. Louis XIV. was induced to commute the sentence into banishment for life. The parliament remonstrated at so astonishing an interference with the due course of justice, and presented a petition to the king in which they insist upon the dread reality of a crime that 'tends to the destruction of religion and the ruin of nations.'[153] [153] 'Your parliament,' protest these legislators, 'have thought it their duty on occasion of these crimes, the greatest which men can commit, to make you acquainted with the general and uniform feelings of the people of this province with regard to them; it being moreover a question in which are concerned the glory of God and the relief of your suffering subjects, who groan under their fears from the threats and menaces of this sort of persons, and who feel the effects of them every day in the mortal and extraordinary maladies which attack them, and the surprising damage and loss of their possessions.' They then review the various laws and decrees of Church and State from the earliest times in support of their convictions: they cite the authority of the Church in council and in its most famous individual teachers. Particularly do they insist upon the opinions of St. Augustin, in his _City of God_, as irrefragable. 'After so many authorities and punishments ordained by human and divine laws, we humbly supplicate your Majesty to reflect once more upon the extraordinary results which proceed from the malevolence of this sort of people; on the deaths from unknown diseases which are often the consequence of their menaces; on the loss of the goods and chattels of your subjects; on the proofs of guilt continually afforded by the insensibility of the marks upon the accused; on the sudden transportation of bodies from one place to another; on the sacrifices and nocturnal assemblies, and other facts, corroborated by the testimony of ancient and modern authors, and verified by so many eyewitnesses, composed partly of accomplices and partly of people who had no interest in the trials beyond the love of truth, and confirmed moreover by the confessions of the accused parties themselves, and that, Sire, with so much agreement and conformity between the different cases, that the most ignorant persons convicted of this crime have spoken to the same circumstances and in nearly the same words as the most celebrated authors who have written about it; all of which may be easily proved to your Majesty's satisfaction by the records of various trials before your parliaments.'--Given in _Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions_. Louis XIV., with an unaccustomed care for human life, resisting these forcible arguments, remained firm, and the condemned were saved from the stake. While most of the Governments of Europe were now content to leave sorcerers and witches to the irregular persecutions of the people, tacitly abandoning to the mob the right of proceeding against them as they pleased, without the interference of the law, in a remote kingdom of Europe a witch-persecution commenced with the ordinary fury, under express sanction of the Government. It is curious that at the last moments of its existence as a legal crime, one of the last fires of witchcraft should have been lighted in Sweden, a country which, remote from continental Europe, seems to have been up to that period exempt from the judicial excesses of England, France, or Germany. The story of the Mohra witches is inserted in an appendix to Glanvil's 'Collection of Relations,' by Dr. Anthony Horneck. The epidemic broke out in 1669, in the village of Mohra, in the mountainous districts of Central Sweden. A number of children became affected with an imaginative or mischievous disease, which carried them off to a place called Blockula, where they held communion and festival with the devil. These, numbering a large proportion of the youth of the neighbourhood, were incited, it seems, by the imposture or credulity of the ministers of Mohra and Elfdale, to report the various transactions at their spiritual _séances_. To such a height increased the terrified excitement of the people, that a commission was appointed by the king, consisting of both clergy and laity, to enquire into the origin and circumstances of the matter. It commenced proceedings in August 1670. Days for humiliation and prayer were ordered, and a solemn service inaugurated the judicial examinations. Agreeably to the dogma of the most approved foreign authorities, which allowed the evidence of the greatest criminals and of the youngest age, the commission began by examining the children, three hundred in number, claiming to be bewitched, confronting them with the witches who had, according to the indictment, been the means of the devil's seduction. They were strictly interrogated whether they were certain of the fact of having been actually carried away by the devil in his proper person. Being answered in the affirmative, the royal commissioners proceeded to demand of the accused themselves, 'Whether the confessions of those children were true, and admonished them to confess the truth, that they might turn away from the devil unto the living God. At first most of them did very stiffly, and without shedding the least tear, deny it, though much against their will and inclination. After this the children were examined every one by themselves, to see whether their confessions did agree or no; and the commissioners found that all of them, except some very little ones, which could not tell all the circumstances, did punctually agree in their confessions of particulars. In the meanwhile, the commissioners that were of the clergy examined the witches, but could not bring them to any confession, all continuing steadfast in their denials, till at last some of them burst out into tears, and their confession agreed with what the children said; and these expressed their abhorrence of the fact, and begged pardon, adding that the devil, whom they called _Locyta_, had stopped the mouths of some of them, so loath was he to part with his prey, and had stopped the ears of others. And being now gone from them, they could no longer conceal it, for they had now perceived his treachery.' The Elfdale witches were induced to announce--'We of the province of Elfdale do confess that we used to go to a gravel-pit which lies hard by a cross-way, and there we put on a vest over our heads, and then danced round; and after this ran to the cross-way and called the devil thrice, first with a still voice, the second time somewhat louder, and the third time very loud, with these words, "Antecessor, come and carry us to Blockula." Whereupon immediately he used to appear, but in different habits; but for the most part we saw him in a grey coat and red and blue stockings.[154] He had a red beard, a high-crowned hat with linen of divers colours wrapt about it, and long garters about upon his stockings. Then he asked us whether we would serve him with soul and body. If we were content to do so, he set us on a beast which he had there ready, and carried us over churches and high walls, and after all he came to a green meadow where Blockula lies [the Brockenberg in the Hartz forest, as Scott conjectures]. We procured some scrapings of altars and filings of church clocks, and then he gave us a horn with a salve in it, wherewith we do anoint ourselves, and a saddle, with a hammer and a wooden nail thereby to fix the saddle. Whereupon we call upon the devil, and away we go.' [154] Accommodating himself to modern refinement, the devil usually discards the antiquated horns, hoofs, and tail; and if, as Dr. Mede supposed, 'appearing in human shape, he has always a deformity of some uncouth member or other,' such inconvenient appendages are disguised as much as possible. As Goethe's Mephistopheles explains to his witch: 'Culture, which renders man less like an ape, Has also licked the devil into shape.' Many interrogatories were put. Amongst others, how it was contrived that they could pass up and down chimneys and through unbroken panes of glass (to which it was replied that the devil removes all obstacles); how they were enabled to transport so many children at one time? &c. They acknowledged that 'till of late they had never power to carry away children; but only this year and the last: and the devil did at that time force them to it: that heretofore it was sufficient to carry but one of their own children or a stranger's child with them, which happened seldom: but now he did plague them and whip them if they did not procure him many children, insomuch that they had no peace or quiet for him. And whereas that formerly one journey a week would serve their turn from their own town to the place aforesaid, now they were forced to run to other towns and places for children, and that they brought with them some fifteen, some sixteen children every night.' As to their means of conveyance, they were sometimes men; at other times, beasts, spits, and posts: but a preferable mode was the riding upon goats, whose backs were made more commodious by the use of a magical ointment whenever a larger freight than usual was to be transported. Arrived at Blockula, their diabolical initiation commenced. First they were made to deny their baptism and take an oath of fealty to their new master, to whom they devoted soul and body to serve faithfully. Their new baptism was a baptism of blood: for their lord cut their fingers and wrote their names in blood in his book. After other ceremonies they sit down to a table, and are regaled with not the choicest viands (for such an occasion and from such a host)--broth, bacon, cheese, oatmeal. Dancing and fighting (the latter a peculiarity of the Northern Sabbath) ensue alternately. They indulge, too, in the debauchery of the South: the witches having offspring from their intercourse with the demons, who intermarry and produce a mongrel breed of toads and serpents. As interludes, it may be supposed, to the serious part of the entertainment the fiend would contrive various jokes, affecting to be dead; and, a graver joke, he would bid them to erect a huge building of stone, in which they were to be saved upon the approaching day of judgment. While engaged at this work he threw down the unfinished house about their ears, to the consternation, and sometimes injury, of his vassals.[155] Some of the witnesses spoke of a great dragon encircled with flames, and an iron chair; of a vision of a burning pit. The minister of the district gave his evidence that, having been suffering from a painful headache, he could account for the unusual severity of the attack only by supposing that the witches had celebrated one of their infernal dances upon his head while asleep in bed: and one of them, in accordance with this conjecture, acknowledged that the devil had sent her with a sledge-hammer to drive a nail into the temples of the obnoxious clergyman. The solidity of his skull saved him; and the only result was, as stated, a severe pain in his head. [155] Le Sage's _Diable Boiteux_, who so obligingly introduces the Spanish student to the secret realities of human life, is, it may be observed, of both a more rational and more instructive temperament than the ordinary demons who appear at the witches' revels to practise their senseless and fantastic rites. All the persuasive arguments of the examiners could not induce the witches to repeat before them their well-known tricks: because, as they affirmed, 'since they had confessed all they found all their witchcraft was gone: and the devil at this time appeared very terrible with claws on his hands and feet, with horns on his head and a long tail behind, and showed them a pit burning with a hand out; but the devil did thrust the person down again with an iron fork, and suggested to the witches that if they continued in their confession he would deal with them in the same manner.' These are some of the interesting particulars of this judicial commission as reported by contemporaries. Seventy persons were condemned to death. One woman pleaded (a frequent plea) in arrest of judgment that she was with child; the rest perseveringly denying their guilt. Twenty-three were burned in a single fire at the village of Mohra. Fifteen children were also executed; while fifty-six others, convicted of witchcraft in a minor degree, were sentenced to various punishments: to be scourged on every Sunday during a whole year being a sentence of less severity. The proceedings were brought to an end, it seems, by the fear of the upper classes for their own safety. An edict of the king who had authorised the enquiry now ordered it to be terminated, and the history of the commission was attempted to be involved in silent obscurity. Prayers were ordered in all the churches throughout Sweden for deliverance from the malice of Satan, who was believed to be let loose for the punishment of the land.[156] It is remarkable that the incidents of the Swedish trials are chiefly reproductions of the evidence extracted in the courts of France and Germany. [156] _Narratives of Sorcery, &c._, by Thomas Wright, who quotes the authorised reports. Sir Walter Scott refers to 'An account of what happened in the kingdom of Sweden in the years 1669, 1670, and afterwards translated out of High Dutch into English by Dr. Anthony Horneck, attached to Glanvil's _Sadducismus Triumphatus_. The translation refers to the evidence of Baron Sparr, ambassador from the court of Sweden to the court of England in 1672, and that of Baron Lyonberg, envoy-extraordinary of the same power, both of whom attest the confessions and execution of the witches. The King of Sweden himself answered the express inquiries of the Duke of Holstein with marked reserve. "His judges and commissioners," he said, "had caused divers men, women, and children to be burnt and executed on such pregnant evidence as was brought before them; but whether the actions confessed and proved against them were real, or only the effect of a strong imagination, he was not as yet able to determine."' CHAPTER X. Witchcraft in the English Colonies in North America--Puritan Intolerance and Superstition--Cotton Mather's 'Late Memorable Providences'--Demoniacal Possession--Evidence given before the Commission--Apologies issued by Authority--Sudden Termination of the Proceedings--Reactionary Feeling against the Agitators--The Salem Witchcraft the last Instance of Judicial Prosecution on a large Scale in Christendom--Philosophers begin to expose the Superstition--Meritorious Labours of Webster, Becker, and others--Their Arguments could reach only the Educated and Wealthy Classes of Society--These only partially Enfranchised--The Superstition continues to prevail among the Vulgar--Repeal of the Witch Act in England in 1736--Judicial and Popular Persecutions in England in the Eighteenth Century--Trial of Jane Wenham in England in 1712--Maria Renata burned in Germany in 1749--La Cadière in France--Last Witch burned in Scotland in 1722--Recent Cases of Witchcraft--Protestant Superstition--Witchcraft in the Extra-Christian World. A review of the superstitions of witchcraft would be incomplete without some notice of the Salem witches in New England. An equally melancholy and mischievous access of fanatic credulity, during the years 1688-1692, overwhelmed the colony of Massachusetts with a multitude of demons and their human accomplices; and the circumstances of the period were favourable to the vigour of the delusion. In the beginning of their colonisation the New Englanders were generally a united community; they were little disturbed by heresy; and if they had been thus infected they were too busily engaged in contending against the difficulties and dangers of a perilous position to be able to give much attention to differences in religious belief. But soon the _purity_ of their faith was in danger of being corrupted by heretical immigrants. The Puritans were the most numerous and powerful of the fugitives from political and religious tyranny in England, and the dominant sect in North America almost as severely oppressed Anabaptists and Quakers in the colonies as they themselves, religious exiles from ecclesiastical despotism, had suffered in the old world. They proved themselves worthy followers of the persecutors of Servetus. Other enemies from without also were active in seeking the destruction of the true believers. Fierce wars and struggles were continuously being waged with the surrounding savages, who regarded the increasing prosperity and number of the intruders with just fear and resentment. Imbued as the colonists were with demoniacal prepossessions, it is not so surprising that they deemed their rising State beset by spiritual enemies; and it is fortunate, perhaps, that the wilds of North America were not still more productive of fiends and witches, and more destructive massacres than that of 1690-92 did not disgrace their colonial history. From the pen of Dr. Cotton Mather, Fellow of Harvard College, and his father (who was the Principal), we have received the facts of the history. These two divines and their opinions obtained great respect throughout the colony. They devoutly received the orthodox creed as expounded in the writings of the ancient authorities on demonology, firmly convinced of the reality of the present wanderings of Satan 'up and down' in the earth; and Dr. Cotton Mather was at the same time the chief supporter and the historian of the demoniacal war now commenced. It was significantly initiated by the execution of a papist, an Irishman named Glover, who was accused of having bewitched the daughters of a mason of Boston, by name Goodwin. These girls, of infantile age, suffered from convulsive fits, the ordinary symptom of 'possession.' Mather received one of them into his house for the purpose of making experiments, and, if possible, to exorcise the evil spirits. She would suddenly, in presence of a number of spectators, fall into a trance, rise up, place herself in a riding attitude as if setting out for the Sabbath, and hold conversation with invisible beings. A peculiar phase of this patient's case was that when under the influence of 'hellish charms' she took great pleasure in reading or hearing 'bad' books, which she was permitted to do with perfect freedom. Those books included the Prayer Book of the English Episcopal Church, Quakers' writings, and popish productions. Whenever the Bible was taken up, the devil threw her into the most fearful convulsions. As a result of this _diagnosis_ appeared the publication of 'Late Memorable Providences relating to Witchcraft and Possession,' which, together with Baxter's 'Certainty of the World of Spirits,' a work Mather was careful to distribute and recommend to the people, increased the fever of fear and fanaticism to the highest pitch. The above incidents were the prelude only to the proper drama of the Salem witches. In 1692, two girls, the daughter and niece of Mr. Parvis, minister, suffering from a disease similar to that of the Goodwins, were pronounced to be preternaturally afflicted. Two miserable Indians, man and wife, servants in the family, who indiscreetly attempted to cure the witch-patients by means of some charm or drug, were suspected themselves as the guilty agents, and sent to execution. The physicians, who seem to have been entirely ignorant of the origin of these attacks, and as credulous as the unprofessional world, added fresh testimony to the reality of 'possession.'[157] At first, persons of the lower classes and those who, on account of their ill-repute, would be easily recognised to be diabolic agents, were alone incriminated. But as the excitement increased others of higher rank were pointed out. A _black_ man was introduced on the stage in the form of an Indian of terrible aspect and portentous dimensions, who had threatened the christianising colonists with extermination for intruding their faith upon the reluctant heathen. In May 1692, a new governor, Sir William Phipps, arrived with a new charter (the old one had been suspended) from England; this official, far from discouraging the existing prejudices, urged the local authorities on to greater extravagance. The examinations were conducted in the ordinary and most approved manner, the Lord's Prayer and the secret marks being the infallible tests. Towards the end of May two women, Bridget Bishop and Susannah Martin, were hanged. [157] A phenomenon of apparently the same sort as that which was of such frequent occurrence in the Middle Age and in the seventeenth century, is said to have been lately occupying considerable attention in the South of France. The _Courrier des Alpes_ narrates an extraordinary scene in one of the churches in the _Commune_ of Morzine, among the women, on occasion of the visitation of the bishop of the district. It seems that the malady in question attacks, for the most part, the female population, and the patients are confidently styled, and asserted to be, _possessed_. It 'produces all the effects of madness, without having its character,' and is said to baffle all the resources of medical science, which is ignorant of its nature. There had been an intermission of the convulsions for some time, but they have now reappeared with greater violence than ever.--_The Times_ newspaper, June 6, 1864. On June 2, a formal commission sat, before which the most ridiculous evidence was gravely given and as gravely received. John Louder deposed against Bridget Bishop, 'that upon some little controversy with Bishop about her fowls going well to bed, he did awake in the night by moonlight, and did see clearly the likeness of this woman grievously oppressing him, in which miserable condition she held him unable to help himself till next day. He told Bishop of this, but she denied it, and threatened him very much. Quickly after this, being at home on a Lord's day with the doors shut about him, he saw a black pig approach him, at which he going to kick, it vanished away. Immediately after sitting down he saw a black thing jump in at the window and come and stand before him. The body was like that of a monkey, the feet like a cock's, but the face much like that of a man.[158] He being so extremely affrighted that he could not speak, this monster spoke to him and said, "I am a messenger sent unto you, for I understand that you are in some trouble of mind, and if you will be ruled by me you shall want for nothing in this world." Whereupon he endeavoured to clap his hands upon it, but he could feel no substance; and it jumped out of window again, but immediately came in by the porch (though the doors were shut) and said, "You had better take my counsel." He then struck at it with a stick, and struck only the ground and broke the stick. The arm with which he struck was presently disabled, and it vanished away. He presently went out at the back door, and spied this Bishop in her orchard going towards her house, but he had no power to set one foot forward to her; whereupon, returning into the house, he was immediately accosted by the monster he had seen before, which goblin was now going to fly at him; whereat he cried out, "The whole armour of God be between me and you!" so it sprung back and flew over the apple-tree, shaking many apples off the tree in its flying over. At its leap, it flung dirt with its feet against the stomach of the man, whereupon he was then struck dumb, and so continued for three days together.' Another witness declared in court; that, 'being in bed on the Lord's day, at night he heard a scrambling at the window; whereat he then saw Susanna Martin come in and jump down upon the floor. She took hold of this deponent's foot, and, drawing his body into a heap, she lay upon him nearly two hours, in all which time he could neither speak nor stir. At length, when he could begin to move, he laid hold on her hand, and, pulling it up to his mouth, he bit some of her fingers, as he judged into the bone; whereupon she went from the chamber down stairs out at the door,' &c. [158] 'Rara avis in terris.' A mongrel and anomalous species like the German _Meerkatzen_--monkey-cats. On July 19 five women, and on August 19, six persons, were sent to the gallows, among whom was Mr. George Burroughs, minister, who had provoked his judges by questioning the very existence of witchcraft. At the last moments he so favourably impressed the assembled spectators by an eloquent address, that Dr. Mather, who was present, found it necessary to prevent the progress of a reactionary feeling by asserting that the criminal was no regularly ordained minister, and the devil has often been transformed into an angel of light. So transparently iniquitous and absurd had their mode of procedure become, that one of the subordinates in the service of the authorities, whose office it was to arrest the accused, refused to perform any longer his hateful office, and being himself denounced as an accomplice, he sought safety in flight. He was captured and executed as a recusant and wizard. Eight sorcerers suffered the extreme penalty of the law on September 22. Giles Gory, a few days before, indignantly refusing to plead, was 'pressed to death,' an accustomed mode of punishing obstinate prisoners; and in the course of this torture, it is said, when the tongue of the victim was forced from his mouth in the agony of pain, the presiding sheriff forced it back with his cane with much _sang froid_. At this stage in the proceedings, the magistrates considered that a justificatory memoir ought to be published for the destruction of twenty persons of both sexes, and, at the express desire of the governor, Cotton Mather drew up an Apology in the form of a treatise, 'More Wonders of the Invisible World,' in which the Salem, executions are justified by the precedent of similar and notorious instances in the mother-country, as well as by the universally accepted doctrines of various eminent authors of all ages and countries. Increase Mather, Principal of Harvard College, was also directed to solve the question whether the devil could sometimes assume the shape of a saint to effect his particular design. The reverend author resolved it affirmatively in a learned treatise, which he called (a seeming plagiarism) 'Cases of Conscience concerning Witchcraft and Evil Spirits personating Men,' an undertaking prompted by an unforeseen and disagreeable circumstance. The wife of a minister, one of the most active promoters of the prosecution, was involved in the indiscriminate charges of the informers, who were beginning to aim at more exalted prey. The minister, alarmed at the unexpected result of his own agitation, was now convinced of the falseness of the whole proceeding. It was a fortunate occurrence. From that time the executions ceased.[159] [159] If, however, individuals of the human species were at length exempt from the penalty of death, those of the canine species were sacrificed, perhaps vicariously. Two dogs, convicted, as it is reported, of being accessories, were solemnly hanged! The dangerously increasing class of informers who, like the 'delatores' of the early Roman Empire, made a lucrative profession by their baseness, and spared not even reluctant or recusant magistrates themselves, more than anything else, was the cause of the termination of the trials. If they would preserve their own lives, or at least their reputations, the authorities and judges found it was necessary at once to check the progress of the infection. About one hundred and fifty witches or wizards were still under arrest (two hundred more being about to be arrested), when Governor Phipps having been recalled by the Home Government, was induced by a feeling of interest or justice to release the prisoners, to the wonder and horror of the people. From this period a reaction commenced. Those who four years before originated the trials suddenly became objects of hatred or contempt. Even the clergy, who had taken a leading part in them, became unpopular. In spite of the strenuous attempts of Dr. Cotton Mather and his disciples to revive the agitation, the tide of public opinion or feeling had set the other way, and people began to acknowledge the insufficiency of the evidence and the possible innocence of the condemned. Public fasts and prayers were decreed throughout the colony. Judges and juries emulated one another in admitting a misgiving 'that we were sadly deluded and mistaken.' Dr. Mather was less fickle and less repentant. In one of his treatises on the subject, recounting some of the signs and proofs of the actual crime, he declares: 'Nor are these the tenth part of the prodigies that fell out among the inhabitants of New England. _Fleshy_ people may burlesque these things: but when hundreds of the most solemn people, in a country where they have as much mother-wit certainly as the rest of mankind, know them to be true, nothing but the froward spirit of Sadduceeism can question them. I have not yet (he confidently asserts) mentioned so much as one thing that will not be justified, if it be required, by the oaths of more considerate persons than any that can ridicule these odd phenomena.'[160] [160] _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_, chap. xxxi. The faith of the Fellow of Harvard College, we may be inclined to suppose, was quickened in proportion to his doubts. To do him justice, he admitted that _some_ of the circumstances alleged might be exaggerated or even imaginary. So ended the last of public and judicial persecutions of considerable extent for witchcraft in Christendom. As far as the superior intellects were concerned, philosophy could now dare to reaffirm that reason 'must be our last judge and guide in everything.' Yet Folly, like Dulness, 'born a goddess, never dies;' and many of the higher classes must have experienced some silent regrets for an exploded creed which held the reality of the constant personal interference of the demons in human affairs. The fact that the great body of the people of every country in Europe remained almost as firm believers as their ancestors down to the present age, hardly needs to be insisted on; that theirs was a _living_ faith is evidenced in the ever-recurring popular outbreaks of superstitious ignorance, resulting both in this country and on the Continent often in the deaths of the objects of their diabolic fear. Such arguments as those of Webster in England, of Becker and Thomasius in Germany, on the special subject of witchcraft, and the general arguments of Locke or of Bayle, could be addressed only to the few.[161] Nor indeed would it be philosophical to expect that the vulgar should be able to penetrate an inveterate superstition that recently had been universally credited by the learned world. [161] Dr. Balthazar Becker, theological professor at Amsterdam, published his heretical work in Dutch, under the title of 'The World Bewitched, or a Critical Investigation of the commonly-received Opinion respecting Spirits, their Nature, Power, and Acts, and all those extraordinary Feats which Men are said to perform through their Aid;' 1691. 'He founds his arguments on two grand principles--that from their very nature spirits cannot act upon material beings, and that the Scriptures represent the devil and his satellites as shut up in the prison of hell. To explain away the texts which militate against his system, evidently cost him much labour and perplexity. His interpretations, for the most part, are similar to those still relied on by the believers in his doctrine' (Note by Murdock in Mosheim's _Institutes of Ecclesiastical History_). The usually candid Mosheim notices, apparently with contempt, '"The World Bewitched," a prolix and copious work, in which he perverts and explains away, with no little ingenuity indeed, but with no less audacity, whatever the sacred volume relates of persons possessed by evil spirits, and of the power of demons, and maintains that the miserable being whom the sacred writers call Satan and the devil, together with his ministers, is bound with everlasting chains in hell, so that he cannot thence go forth to terrify mortals and to plot against the righteous.' Balthazar Becker, one of the most meritorious of the opponents of diabolism, was deposed from his ministerial office by an ecclesiastical synod, and denounced as an atheist. His position, and the boldness of his arguments, excited extraordinary attention and animosity, and 'vast numbers' of Lutheran divines arose to confute his atheistical heresy. The impunity which he enjoyed from the vengeance of the devil (he had boldly challenged the deity of hell to avenge his overturned altars) was explained by the orthodox divines to be owing to the superior cunning of Satan, who was certain that he would be in the end the greatest gainer by unbelief. Christ. Thomasius, professor of jurisprudence, was the author of several works against the popular prejudice between the years 1701 and 1720. He is considered by Ennemoser to have been able to effect more from his professional position than the humanely-minded Becker. But, after all, the overthrow of the diabolic altars was caused much more by the discoveries of science than by all the writings of literary philosophers. Even in Southern Europe and in Spain (as far as was possible in that intolerant land) reason began to exhibit some faint signs of existence; and Benito Feyjoó, whose Addisonian labours in the eighteenth century in the land of the Inquisition deserve the gratitude of his countrymen (in his _Téatro Critico_), dared to raise his voice, however feeble, in its behalf. The cessation of legal procedure against witches was negative rather than positive: the enactments in the statute-books were left unrepealed, and so seemed not to altogether discountenance a still somewhat doubtful prejudice. It was so late as in the ninth year of the reign of George II., 1736, that the Witch Act of 1604 was formally and finally repealed. By a tardy exertion of sense and justice the Legislature then enacted that, for the future, no prosecutions should be instituted on account of witchcraft, sorcery, conjuration, enchantment, &c., against any person or persons. Unfortunately for the credit of civilisation, it would be easy to enumerate a long list of _illegal_ murders both before and since 1736. One or two of the most remarkable cases plainly evincing, as Scott thinks, that the witch-creed 'is only asleep, and might in remote corners be again awakened to deeds of blood,' are too significant not to be briefly referred to. In 1712 Jane Wenham, a poor woman belonging to the village of Walkern, in the county of Hertford, was solemnly found guilty by the jury on the evidence of sixteen witnesses, of whom three were clergymen; Judge Powell presiding. She was condemned to death as a witch in the usual manner; but was reprieved on the representation of the judge. She had been commonly known in the neighbourhood of her home as a malicious witch, who took great pleasure in afflicting farmers' cattle and in effecting similar mischief. The incumbent of Walkern, the Rev. Mr. Gardiner, fully shared the prejudice of his parishioners; and, far from attempting to dispel, he entirely concurred with, their suspicions. A warrant was obtained from the magistrate, Sir Henry Chauncy, for the arrest of the accused: and she was brought before that local official; depositions were taken, and she was searched for 'marks.' The vicar of Ardley, a neighbouring village, tested her guilt or innocence with the Lord's Prayer, which was repeated incorrectly: by threats and other means he forced the confession that she was indeed an agent of the devil, and had had intercourse with him. But, even in the middle of the eighteenth century, witches were occasionally tried and condemned by judicial tribunals. In the year 1749, Maria or Emma Renata, a nun in the convent of Unterzell, near Würzburg, was condemned by the spiritual, and executed by the civil, power. By the clemency of the prince, the proper death by burning alive was remitted to the milder sentence of beheading, and afterwards burning the corpse to ashes: for no vestige of such an accursed criminal should be permitted to remain after death. When a young girl Maria Renata had been seduced to witchcraft by a military officer, and was accustomed to attend the witch-assemblies. In the convent she practised her infernal arts in bewitching her sister-nuns.[162] About the same time a nun in the south of France was subjected to the barbarous imputation and treatment of a witch: Father Girard, discovering that his mistress had some extraordinary scrofulous marks, conceived the idea of proclaiming to the world that she was possessed of the _stigmata_--impressions of the marks of the nails and spear on the crucified Lord, believed to be reproduced on the persons of those who, like the celebrated St. Francis, most nearly assimilated their lives to His. The Jesuits eagerly embraced an opportunity of producing a miracle which might confound their Jansenist rivals, whose sensational miracles were threatening to eclipse their own.[163] Sir Walter Scott states that the last judicial sentence of death for witchcraft in Scotland was executed in 1722, when Captain David Ross, sheriff of Sutherland, condemned a woman to the stake. As for illegal persecution, M. Garinet ('Histoire de la Magie en France') gives a list of upwards of twenty instances occurring in France between the years 1805 and 1818. In the latter year three tribunals were occupied with the trials of the murderers. [162] Ennemoser relates the history of this witch from 'The Christian address at the burning of Maria Renata, of the convent of Unterzell, who was burnt on June 21, 1749, which address was delivered to a numerous multitude, and afterwards printed by command of the authorities.' The preacher earnestly insisted upon the divine sanction and obligation of the Mosaic law, 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,' which was taken as the text; and upon the fact that, so far from being abolished by Christianity, it was made more imperative by the Christian Church. [163] The victim of the pleasure, and afterwards of the ambition, of Father Girard, is known as La Cadière. She was a native of Toulon, and when young had witnessed the destructive effects of the plague which devastated that city in 1720. Amidst the confusion of society she was distinguished by her purity and benevolence. The story of La Cadière and Father Girard is eloquently narrated by M. Michelet in _La Sorcière_. The convulsions of the Flagellants of the thirteenth century, and of the Protestant Revivalists of the present day, exhibit on a large scale the paroxysms of the French convents and the Dutch orphan-houses of the seventeenth century. Nor is diabolical 'possession' yet extinct in Christendom, if the reports received from time to time from the Continent are to be credited. Recently, a convent of Augustinian nuns at Loretto, on the authority of the _Corriere delle Marche_ of Ancona, was attacked in a similar way to that of Loudun. A vomiting of needles and pins, the old diabolical torture, and a strict examination of the accused, followed. If a belief should be entertained that the now 'vulgar' ideas of witchcraft have been long obsolete in England, it would be destroyed by a perusal of a few of the newspapers and periodicals of the last hundred years; and a sufficiently voluminous work might be occupied with the achievements of modern Sidrophels, and the records of murders or mutilations perpetrated by an ignorant mob.[164] [164] Without noticing other equally notorious instances of recent years, it may be enough (to dispel any such possible illusion) to transcribe a paragraph from an account in _The Times_ newspaper of Sept. 24, 1863. 'It is a somewhat singular fact,' says the writer, describing a late notorious witch-persecution in the county of Essex, 'that nearly all the sixty or seventy persons concerned in the outrage which resulted in the death of the deceased _were of the small tradesmen class_, and that none of the agricultural labourers were mixed up in the affair. It is also stated that none of those engaged were in any way under the influence of liquor. The whole disgraceful transaction arose out of a deep belief in witchcraft, which possesses to a lamentable extent the tradespeople and the lower orders of the district.' Nor does it appear that the village of Hedingham (the scene of the witch-murder) claims a superiority in credulity over other villages in Essex or in England. The instigator and chief agent in the Hedingham case was the wife of an innkeeper, who was convinced that she had been bewitched by an old wizard of reputation in the neighbourhood: and the mode of punishment was the popular one of drowning or suffocating in the nearest pond. Scraps of written papers found in the hovel of the murdered wizard revealed the numerous applications by lovers, wives, and other anxious inquirers. Amongst other recent revivals of the 'Black Art' in Southern Europe already referred to, the inquisition at Rome upon a well-known English or American 'spiritualist,' when, as we learn from himself, he was compelled to make a solemn abjuration that he had not surrendered his soul to the devil, is significant. Nor would it be safe to assume, with some writers, that diabolism, as a vulgar prejudice, is now entirely extirpated from Protestant Christendom, and survives only in the most orthodox countries of Catholicism or in the remoter parts of northern or eastern Europe. Superstition, however mitigated, exists even in the freer Protestant lands of Europe and America; and if Protestants are able to smile at the religious creeds or observances of other sects, they may have, it is probable, something less pernicious, but perhaps almost as absurd, in their own creed.[165] But, after a despotism of fifteen centuries, Christendom has at length thrown off the hellish yoke, whose horrid tyranny was satiated with innumerable holocausts. The once tremendous power of the infernal arts is remembered by the higher classes of society of the present age only in their proverbial language, but it is indelibly graven in the common literature of Europe. With the savage peoples of the African continent and of the barbarous regions of the globe, witchcraft or sorcery, under the name of Fetishism, flourishes with as much vigour and with as destructive effects as in Europe in the sixteenth century; and every traveller returning from Eastern or Western Africa, or from the South Pacific, testifies to the prevalence of the practice of horrid and bloody rites of a religious observance consisting of charms and incantations. With those peoples that have no further conception of the religious sentiment there obtains for the most part, at least, the magical use of sorcery.[166] Superstition, ever varying, at some future date may assume, even in Europe, a form as pernicious or irrational as any of a past or of the present age; for in every age 'religion, which should most distinguish us from beasts, and ought most peculiarly to elevate us as rational creatures above brutes, is that wherein men often appear most irrational and more senseless than beasts themselves.'[167] [165] A modern philosopher has well illustrated this obvious truth (_Natural History of Religion_, sect. xii.). 'The age of superstition,' says an essayist of some notoriety, with perfect truth, 'is not past; nor,' he adds, a more questionable thesis, 'ought we to wish it past.' Some of the most eminent writers (e.g. Plutarch, Francis Bacon, Bayle, Addison) have rightly or wrongly agreed to consider fanatical superstition more pernicious than atheism. When it is considered that the scientific philosophy of Aristotle, of more than 2,000 years ago, was revived at a comparatively recent date, it may be difficult not to believe in a _cyclic_ rather than really progressive course of human ideas, at least in metaphysics. The fact, remarked by Macaulay, that the two principal sections of Christendom in Europe remain very nearly in the limits in which they were in the sixteenth, or in the middle of the seventeenth century, is incontestable. Nor, indeed, are present facts and symptoms so adverse, as is generally supposed, to the probability of an ultimate reaction in favour of Catholic doctrine and rule, even among the Teutonic peoples, in the revolutions to which human ideas are continually subject. [166] Among the numerous evidences of recent travellers may be specially mentioned that of the well-known traveller R. F. Burton (_The Lake Regions of Central Africa_) for the practices of the Eastern Africans. On the African continent and elsewhere, as was the case amongst the ancient Jews, the demons are propitiated by human sacrifices. To what extent witch-superstition obtains among the Hindus, the historian of British India bears witness. 'The belief of witchcraft and sorcery,' says Mr. Mill, 'continues universally prevalent, and is every day the cause of the greatest enormities. It not unfrequently happens that Brahmins tried for murder before the English judges assign as their motive to the crime that the murdered individual had enchanted them. No fewer than five unhappy persons in one district were tried and executed for witchcraft so late as the year 1792. The villagers themselves assume the right of sitting in judgment on this imaginary offence, and their sole instruments of proof are the most wretched of all incantations (_History of British India_, book ii. 7). A certain instinctive or traditional dread of evil spirits excites the terrors of those peoples who have no firm belief in the providence or existence of a benevolent Divinity. Even among the Chinese--the least religious nation in the world, and whose trite formula of scepticism, 'Religions are many: Reason is one,' expresses their indifferentism to every form of religion--there exists a sort of demoniacal fear (Huc's _Chinese Empire_, xix.). The diabolic and magic superstitions of the Moslem are displayed in Sale's _Korân_ and Lane's _Modern Egyptians_. [167] _Essay concerning the Human Understanding_, book iv. 18. * * * * * Transcriber's notes Page 27: Deleted extra "the" Page 39: Removed comma after "Scandinavians." Page 90: Added missing quotation mark. Page 107: Corrected typo "Hutchison's." Page 165: Corrected typo "transsubstantiated." Page 278: Added period after "xix." 
62273	----	book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) DEVONSHIRE WITCHES. BY PAUL Q. KARKEEK. (Read at Teignmouth, July, 1874.) _Reprinted from the Transactions of the Devonshire Association for the Advancement of Science, Literature, and Art. 1874._ DEVONSHIRE WITCHES. BY PAUL Q. KARKEEK. (Read at Teignmouth, July, 1874.) Devonshire bears powerful evidence to the theory of Mr. Buckle, that the climate and scenery of a country tend to influence the creed of the people. Our miles of broad and almost deserted moorland, the deep valleys, the dark combes, and our stormy iron-bound coasts, may to a certain extent have inclined the Devonians of the past to a firmer belief in the miraculous, than would be found in a more populous and less rugged county. Traces of this are present even now. Although ages have passed away since unhappy men and women were tried for witchcraft, there may still be found in the western shires scores who believe in charms, and who are habitual consultants of the "wise man;" and sufferers from the evil-eye, or people who have been ill-wished, are constantly heard of. Prior to the arrival of James I. our statute-book looked but mildly on witchcraft. Laws were passed in 1551 and 1562 against this offence, but it remained for James the Demonologist to bring matters to a climax. In proportion as the Puritans and their doctrines spread, so increased the belief in, and prosecution for, witchcraft. This belief partook of the nature of an epidemic. Suddenly prisoners were seized, tried in various ways, taken before the magistrates, and sent to the assizes, where they were but seldom acquitted. Popular opinion having been satisfied, things resumed their usual course. There was no doubt about the crime; the same village contained the victims and the person of ill-repute. The inhabitants could see for themselves the patient whom no physician could cure, and who pronounced the complaint to be witchcraft; and the confession of the accused only too plainly confirmed all suspicions. Next to murder, nothing could be more palpable; and yet, when once the foundations of this fearful creed were disturbed by rationalism, the whole fabric was speedily swept away, leaving but few traces to show how great it had been, and these only in the minds of the most ignorant classes. Strange to say, there are but few records of the conviction of witches which were not fully supported by the confessions of the accused. It is indeed true that these confessions were only too frequently extorted by gross cruelty, but in scores of cases this was not needed. The prisoners rejoiced in their crimes, and seemed proud of their evil reputations. In that awful moment, when, with one foot on the gallows ladder, and preparing to pay the penalty of their fancied crimes, they even then would relate, and in glowing colours, their evil deeds, there could be but small reason for idle boastings then; but so it was. The witches themselves as firmly believed in their evil powers as did their accusers and judges. The trials by law were conducted with all order and fairness. There was no unusual mode of procedure. In those days justice leaned towards the accuser, and inclined to punishment; but witchcraft was not an exception, or was treated worse than murder or theft, and not nearly so badly as heresy. As I said before, these trials of witches would come in spasms, and with all the fury of an epidemic. The history of one such epidemic I propose to relate. In the year 1682 there lived in the town of Bideford three old women, poor, ugly, and discontented. One, Temperance Lloyd, pursued the lucrative occupation of an apple-woman, when she could find any good citizen rash enough to deal with her. No good housewife would allow her children to go near her; for she was a witch, and the children might get under the influence of the evil-eye. Once she had been sent to the assizes, but was acquitted, much to the disgust of the Bideford folk. On another occasion she had been dragged before the magistrates and examined, but let off. It was no light matter to be tried for witchcraft; but then there was one consolation, nothing could be done to a witch until she had been forsaken by the devil, her master; so it was only necessary to try her often enough. She had two companions in her evil ways; one was Susanna Edwards, who was a witch of a higher class than old Temperance Lloyd, for she had a pupil, one Mary Trembles, who had come to an understanding with Susanna Edwards to learn the art and mystery of witchcraft in all its branches. Things had been going on very quietly in Bideford for some time. People had died in unusual ways, and many had suffered without making much ado about it; but there is an end to all things, and one day the storm broke. This came about in the following manner: A certain gentleman, named Thomas Eastchurch, lived in Bideford with Elizabeth his wife, and Grace Thomas, her maiden sister. Mistress Grace had been ailing for some time, and had consulted several physicians, but to no purpose. Her brother did not attach much importance to the case, and considered she was suffering from natural causes. Doctors in those days called nervous attacks witchcraft. Some months previous to the date of our story, Mistress Grace Thomas had recovered sufficiently well as to be able to go out a little to take the air. While out she came across Temperance Lloyd, who, to her astonishment, fell on her knees, and thanked heaven that she was well and out again. Now, people do not usually go on their knees in the open streets to return thanks for the recovery of sick folk, even if they are doating old beggar women. This was suspicious, and coupled with the fact that it was Temperance Lloyd, the notorious witch, who was so surprisingly grateful, it caused Mistress Thomas to form a little theory about the origin of her ailments. That night she became much worse, and lay so for some months, sometimes better and sometimes worse. At length, on July 2nd, as she lay a groaning and complaining of her pains, and particularly of one knee, her sister looked at it, and on close inspection of the painful joint, discovered nine places like unto the pricks of a thorn. It needed no great amount of reasoning power to see that if people have nine prick holes on their knee, they must be bewitched. Then they recollected the fervent delight exhibited last September by Temperance Lloyd, and forthwith Dame Eastchurch procured an interview with that worthy. When asked if she had made any images of wax or clay for the bewitching of her sister, Temperance replied in the negative, but owned that she had used a piece of leather for that purpose. This distinction without a difference was not likely to avail her anything, and she was at once arrested. The next day, Sunday, July 3rd, a court of inquisition was opened at the Town-hall, and his worship the mayor, Mr. Thomas Gist, Alderman John Davies, and the town clerk, Mr. John Hill, formed the bench before which the case was tried. Mistress Thomas described very fully the history of her complaint. She gave all the symptoms; she told about the prickings, and pinchings, and swoonings in a style that would have satisfied any one; and what was more, she had lost every pain and ache ever since that Temperance Lloyd had been locked up. Then Dame Eastchurch related the discovery of the nine prick-holes, and of the acknowledgment by the prisoner of using the piece of leather to bewitch her sister. The next witness, Ann Wakely, who had been sick nurse to Mistress Thomas, confirmed the foregoing evidence, even to the magical disappearance of the pains at the moment of the prisoner's arrest. Furthermore, she had been commissioned by the mayor to examine the body of the prisoner, which she had done in company with Honor Hooper and other matrons, and they had discovered marks of diabolic familiarity about her. The prisoner, too, had admitted to her that a certain magpie, which came and fluttered at the window of Mistress Thomas on Thursday morning last, was the devil himself. Honor Hooper confirmed all this. Then Mr. Thomas Eastchurch gave his evidence, which consisted in retailing a long conversation he had had with the prisoner yesterday, in which she had confessed to having met the devil in Higher Gunstone Lane, and that he had tempted her to exercise her craft on Grace Thomas. The description of the devil is simply that of a hobgoblin. He was the length of her arm, and wore black clothes; he had broad eyes, and a mouth like a toad. Then Temperance Lloyd was called on for her confession, which was given _ad libitum_. All that the preceding witnesses had said was true, and in addition she related that on her visits to Mr. Eastchurch's house she was accompanied by a "braget cat" (the devil in disguise), and that when she had pricked and pinched her victim, though the room was full of people, no one had seen her. Here was enough to hang a dozen witches; but now that she was in a mood to confess--an evident proof of her desertion by the devil--the magistrates went into all her other witcheries, and truly they make a goodly list. She had been acquitted, though guilty, in 1670 of bewitching William Herbert to death; and in 1679 she had done to death the daughter of Mr. Edward Fellow, a gentleman of Bideford. When finished with by the magistrates, the prisoner was taken to church, and in the presence of all the witnesses against her was examined by the rector, Mr. Michael Ogilby. This appears to be a relic of the old ecclesiastical courts. Here the prisoner adds other trifling items to her already long list of crimes. She had done to death Jane Dallyn, and also Lydia Burman. There was some excuse for this last, inasmuch as the said Lydia Burman had given evidence at the assizes in 1670 that the prisoner had appeared to her in the shape of a red pig, while she was at work, brewing in the house of Humphrey Ackland, of Bideford. Then Mr. Ogilby put her to the test of reciting the Lord's Prayer and the creed, but the prisoner failing to do this to his satisfaction, "he gave her many good exhortations, and so departed from her." Such was the evidence against, and the confession of, Temperance Lloyd. People believed it in those days, but now, alas! _Cuilibet in sua arte credendum est._ Now, when Temperance was locked up in gaol, she evidently found it lonely, and so made sufficient observations to her attendants as to necessitate the arrest of her old cronies, Susanna Edwards and Mary Trembles. One remark was to the effect that if she was to be hanged, that Susanna should join her, and at the same time dropping hints about riding on a red cow, and so on. On July 18th the same magistrates set to work on Susanna Edwards and Mary Trembles. A certain Grace Barnes had been taken ill in a mysterious manner, and to the alarm of her husband and friends. Whilst the attack lasted, one Agnes Whitfield, who was present, heard some one at the door, which opening, she found Mary Trembles pretending to be going to the bakehouse with a white pot in her hands. Grace Barnes being told who was at the door, cried out that Mary Trembles was one of them who did torment her; the other was Susanna Edwards, because she was always coming to her house on some foolish pretence or other. Then a blacksmith called William Edwards reports a conversation of Susanna Edwards, showing that she and Mary Trembles had been trying their art on Grace Barnes. One of the informants was Joane Jones, who was probably the female watcher at the prison, because she gives evidence of conversations overheard between Mary Trembles and Susanna Edwards while in prison. A curious scene took place before the magistrates on this occasion. Anthony Jones, husband of the last witness, was standing by the side of Susanna Edwards, and seeing her to twist her fingers about, said, "Thou devil, thou art tormenting some person or other!" This enraged the old woman, who looked at him and said, "Well enough I'll fit thee." The evidence of Grace Barnes being required, a constable and the man Jones are sent to fetch her; and as they are bringing her with much ado into the court, Susanna catches the eye of the officious Mr. Jones, who forthwith falls down in a fit, and is described as having "leapt and capered like a madman, and fell a shaking, quivering, and groaning, and lay for the space of half an hour like a dying or dead man." Then follows the examination of Mary Trembles, who pleads guilty to everything and anything. She had been enlisted to the cause of witchcraft by Susanna Edwards, and had been promised by her "never to want for money, drink, or clothes;" that the devil had appeared to her like a Lyon, and that she and Susanna had bewitched Grace Barnes because the latter had refused them some bread. Susanna Edwards, in her confession, said that she had made the acquaintance of the devil two years ago in Parsonage Close, and that he was like a gentleman. She met him again the same day in Stambridge Lane, and that he again persuaded her to kill Grace Barnes. She had bewitched one Dorcas Coleman, and finally owned that "she gave herself to the devil when she did meet him in Stambridge Lane, and that the said Mary Trembles was a servant to her, in like manner as she, this examinant, was a servant to the devil (whom she called by the appellation of a gentleman)." Another case was gone into against Susanna Edwards on July 26th, but it merely confirmed her confession, which was hardly necessary. These miserable old women were, on this evidence and these confessions, sent to Exeter, where they, on August 18th, were tried, found guilty, and condemned to be hanged; and which sentence was carried out on the 25th of the same month at Heavitree, as we are informed in Jenkin's _History of Exeter_. Even at the foot of the gallows they stuck to their story, altering it but little, though they were much questioned by a meddlesome Mr. Hann, "who was a minister in those parts." In a curious tract published in London this same year (1682), which I have appended to this, with a copy of the deposition taken at the magistrates' enquiry, there is a statement that Mary Trembles was very loath to be hanged, and in order to get her to the place of execution was strapped on a horse. It is commonly supposed that this was the last execution for witchcraft in England; but such is not the case. In 1716 a woman and her daughter were hanged at Huntingdon for selling their souls to the devil. Twenty years after, in 1736, the penal act of James I. was erased from the statute-book. The judges of the land were among the first to set their faces against these judicial murders; one of the earliest being Mr. Chief Justice Holt, who on all occasions endeavoured to procure an acquittal. There is a letter among the State papers from Lord Keeper North, who was at Exeter on circuit at these assizes, to Sir Leoline Jenkins, which gives an excellent view of the question as then considered. It is dated Exeter, August 19th, 1682. "Here have been three old women condemned for witchcraft; your curiosity will make you enquire of the circumstances. I shall only tell you that what I had from my brother Raymond, before whom they were tried, that they were the most old, decrepid, despicable, miserable creatures that he ever saw. A painter would have chosen them out of the whole country for figures of that kind to have drawn by. "The evidence against them was very full and fanciful, but their own confessions exceeded it. They appeared not only weary of their lives, but to have a great deal of skill to convict themselves. Their description of the sucking devills with sawcer-eyes was as natural that the jury could not chuse but beleeve them. Sir, I find the country so fully possessed against them, that though some of the _virtuosi_ may think these the effect of confederacy, melancholy, or delusion, and that young folkes are altogether as quick-sighted as they who are old and infirme; Yet wee cannot repreive them without appearing to denye the very being of witches, which, as it is contrary to law, so I think it would be ill for his Majesties service, for it may give the faction occasion to set afoot the old trade of witchfinding that may cost many innocent persons their lives, which the justice will not prevent." Though this was the last execution for witchcraft in the West, it was not the last trial. In 1695 a woman named Mary Guy was tried before Chief Justice Holt, at Launceston Castle, for bewitching Philadelphia Row. In this case the victim vomited pins, straws, and feathers; but, owing to a successful appeal, by the judge to the jury, a verdict of acquittal was brought in. In 1696 Elizabeth Horner was tried before this same judge at Exeter, and though evidence of a startling nature was given by the children of a Mr. William Bovet, the jury acquitted her; a result brought about no doubt by the exertions of the judge. This case of Elizabeth Horner was the last tried in Devonshire, and with her acquittal was heard the last of Devonshire witches in courts of justice. APPENDIX.--No. I. A True and Impartial Relation of the Information against Three Witches who were indicted, arraigned, and convicted at the Assizes holden for the county of Devon, at the Castle of Exon, August 14th, 1682, with their several Confessions, &c. &c.[1] [Footnote 1: It is easy to see that some of these depositions are placed out of order. The first three should be the last. Compare dates.] DEVON.--The information of Dorcas Coleman, the wife of John Coleman, of Biddiford aforesaid, Mariner, taken upon her oath, before Thomas Gist, Mayor of the Burrough Town and Manor of Biddiford, and John Davies, Alderman, etc., on the 26th of July, Anno Domini 1682. The said informant upon her oath saith, That about the end of the month of August in the year 1680, she was taken in tormenting pains, by pricking in her arms, stomach, and heart, in such a manner as she never was taken before. Upon which she, this informant, did desire one Thomas Bremincom to repair unto Dr. Beare for some remedy for those pains. And shortly afterwards the said Dr. Beare did repair unto this informant. And upon view of her body, he did say that it was past his skill to ease her of her pains, for he told her that she was bewitched. And further saith, that at the time of her tormenting pains, she did see her, the said Susanna Edwards, in her chamber; and that she this informant would point with her finger at what place in the chamber the said Susanna Edwards would stand, and where she would go. And further saith, that she hath continued so ever since more or less every week. And saith that when the said Susanna was apprehended concerning Grace Barnes of Biddiford aforesaid, that this informant did go to see the said Susanna: and that when the said Susanna was in prison she did confess unto this informant, that she had bewitched her and done her some bodily harm by bewitching her. And thereupon she fell down on her knees and desired this informant to pray for her, the said Susanna Edwards. The Information of Thomas Bremincom of Biddiford in the county aforesaid, gent., taken, etc., the 26th of July AD 1682. The said informant upon his oath saith, that about two years ago, Dorcas Coleman, the wife of John Coleman of Biddiford aforesaid, mariner, was taken very sick, and in her sickness this informant did repair unto one Dr. Beare for some remedy for these pains. The said Mr. Beare being come unto her, and upon view of her body, did say that it was past his skill to ease her, by reason that she was bewitched. And further saith that after the said Mr. Beare had left her, he this informant did see one Susanna Edwards, of Biddiford aforesaid widow, to come into her chamber to visit her the said Dorcas. This informant further saith, That as soon as the said Dorcas did see the said Susanna Edwards, she did strive to fly in her face; but was not able to get out of the chair wherein she sate. This informant and John Coleman, the said Dorcas' husband did strive to help her out of the chair: upon which the said Susanna began to go backwards to go out of the chamber. And further said, that when the said Susanna was almost gone out of the chamber the said Dorcas did slide out of the chair upon her back, and so strive to go after the said Susanna. But this informant and her said husband seeing her in such a sad condition did endeavour to take her up from the ground, but could not until the said Susanna was gone down over the stairs. This informant further saith, that at the same time of her tormenting pains, and when she could neither see nor speak, by reason that her pains were so violent upon her, this informant hath seen her the said Dorcas, to point with her hand which way the said Susanna was gone. And saith that immediately after he hath gone out at the fore door, and hath seen the said Susanna to go the same way that the said Dorcas did point with her hand. The Information of John Coleman of Biddiford, in the County aforesaid, Mariner, taken, etc. the 26th July 1682. The said informant upon his oath saith--That Dorcas Coleman his wife, has been a long time sick, in a very strange and unusual manner; and he hath sought far and near for remedy, and saith that one Dr. George Beare being advised with concerning her sickness in this deponent's absence (whilst he was at sea) the said Mr. Beare hath (as this Informant was told by his said wife and his uncle Thomas Bremincom, at his return) said that it was past his skill to prescribe directions for her cure, because the said Dorcas was bewitched. This informant further saith, that about three months last past, his said wife was sitting in a chair, and being speechless, he this informant did see one Susanna Edwards, of Biddiford, to come into the chamber under a pretence to visit her.--Whereupon this Informant's wife did strive to come at her the said Susanna, but could not get out of the chair, upon which this informant and the said Thomas Bremincom did endeavour to help her out of the chair, and the said Susanna did go towards the chamber door. And further saith, That when the said Susanna was come at the chamber door, she the said Dorcas (remaining speechless as aforesaid) did slide out of the chair upon her back, and so strove to come at her the said Susanna, but was not able to rise from the ground, until the said Susanna was gone down the stairs; and further saith, That the said Dorcas continued in such a strange and unusual manner of sickness ever since unto this day with some intermissions. The Information of Grace Thomas, of Biddiford in the County aforesaid, Spinster, taken upon her oath the 3rd day of July, A.D. 1682 before us. The said informant upon her oath saith, that upon or about the second day of February which was in the year of our Lord 1680, this informant was taken with great pains in her head, and all her limbs, which pains continued on her till near or upon 1st day of August then following; and then this Informant's pains began to abate, and this Informant was able to walk abroad to take the air: But in the night she was in much pain and not able to take her rest. This Informant further saith, That upon or about the 30th day of September now last past this informant was going up the High Street of Biddiford, when this informant met with Temperance Lloyd of Biddiford aforesaid, widow, and she the said Temperance did then and there fall down on her knees to this Informant and wept--saying "Mrs. Grace, I am glad to see you so strong again." Upon which this informant said, "Why dost thou weep for me?" Unto which the said Temperance replied, "I weep for joy to see you so well again," as the said Temperance then pretended. This Informant further saith--That that night she, this informant, was taken very ill with sticking and pricking pains as tho' pins and awls had been thrust into her body, from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet; and this informant lay as though it had been upon a rack. And saith, that these pricking pains have continued upon her body ever since; and that her pains are much worse by night than by day. This informant further saith, That on Thursday 1st of June last in the night, she the Informant was bound and seemingly chained up with all her sticking pains in her belly; so that on a sudden her belly was as big as two bellies, which caused her to cry out, "I shall die;" and in this sad condition this Informant lay as though she had been dead for a long space (which those persons that were in the chamber with her, this informant did compute to be about two hours). And this Informant further saith, that on Friday night last, being the 30th of June, this Informant was again pinched and pricked to the heart with such cruel thrusting pains in her head, shoulders, arms, hands, thighs and legs, as tho' the flesh would have been then immediately torn from the woman with a man's fingers and thumbs. And further saith--That she was even plucked out over her bed, and lay in this condition for the space of three hours (as she was informed by some of those persons then in the chamber). This Informant further saith that upon the 1st day of this instant July, as soon as the aforesaid Temperance Lloyd was apprehended and put in the prison of Biddiford, she this Informant immediately felt her pricking and sticking pains to cease and abate. And saith--that she hath continued so ever since unto this time, but is still in great weakness of body. And further saith, that she believeth that the said Temperance Lloyd hath been an instrument of doing much hurt and harm to her body, by pricking and tormenting of her in manner as before set forth. The Information of Elizabeth Eastchurch wife of Thomas Eastchurch of Biddiford, Gent., taken upon her oath, etc., the 3rd of July, A.D. 1682. The said informant upon her oath saith--That upon the 2nd day of this instant July the said Grace Thomas then lodging in this informant's said husband's house and hearing of her to complain of great pricking pains in one of her knees, she this informant did see her said knee, and observed that she had nine places in her knee which had been prickt, and that every of the said pricks were as tho' it had been the prick of a thorn. Whereupon this Informant upon the same 2nd of July did demand of the said Temperance Lloyd, whether she had any wax or clay in the form of a picture whereby she had pricked and tormented the said Grace Thomas. Unto which the said Temperance made answer that she had no wax or clay, but confessed that she had only a piece of leather which she had pricked nine times. The Information of Anne Wakely, wife of William Wakely of Biddeford, Husbandman, taken the 3rd of July, A.D. 1682. The said informant upon her oath saith, That upon the 2nd of July Instant, she this deponant by order of Mr. Mayor did search the body of the said Temperance Lloyd, in the presence of Honor Hooper, and several other women. And upon search of her said body, she this informant did find in her secret parts, two teats, hanging nigh together like unto a piece of flesh that a child had suckt. And that each of the said teats was about an inch in length. Upon which this Informant did demand of her the said Temperance whether she had been suckt at that place by the Black Man? meaning the Devil. Whereto the said Temperance did acknowledge that she had been suckt there often times by the Black Man, and the last time she was suckt by the said Black Man, was the Friday before she was searched, viz the 30th of June last. And this Informant saith, that she had been attendant of the said Grace Thomas about six weeks last past; and that on Thursday, the 29th June last in the Morning, she this informant did see some thing in the shape of a Magpie to come at the Chamber window where the said Grace did lodge. Upon which this Informant did demand of the said Temperance whether she did know of any bird to come and flutter at the said window. Unto which question the said Temperance did then say, that it was the Black Man in the shape of a bird; and that she the said Temperance was at that time by the said Thomas Eastchurch's door of the house where the said Grace Thomas did lodge. The like is deposed by Honor Hooper, servant unto the said Thomas Eastchurch, as appears by her information taken upon her oath the day and year above said before the said Thomas Gist, Mayor and John Davies, Alderman of Biddiford. Temperance Lloyd--her examination taken the 3rd of July A.D. 1682. The said informant being brought before us by some of the constables of the said borrough, upon the complaint of Thomas Eastchurch of Biddiford aforesaid, gent, and charged upon suspicion of having used some Magical art, sorcery, or witchcraft upon the body of Grace Thomas of Biddiford, spinster; and to have had discourse or familiarity with the Devil in the shape of a Black man; and being demanded how long since she had discourse or familiarity with the Devil in the likeness of a Black man, saith--That about the 30th of September last she met the Devil in the likeness of a Black man about the middle of the afternoon of that day, in a certain street or lane in the town of Biddiford, called Higher Gunstone Lane, and then and there he did tempt and solicit her to go with him to the house of the said Thomas Eastchurch to torment the body of the said Grace Thomas, which this examinant at first did refuse to do, but afterwards by the temptation and persuasion of the Devil she did go to the house of the said Thomas Eastchurch, and that she went upstairs after the said black man, and confesseth that both of them went up into the chamber where the said Grace Thomas was, and that there they found one Anne Wakely, the wife of William Wakely of Biddiford, rubbing and stroking one of the arms of the said Grace Thomas. And the said Examinant doth further confess that she did then and there pinch with the nails of her fingers the said Grace Thomas, in her shoulders, arms, thighs, and legs, and that afterwards they came down into the street together; and that there this examinant did see something in the form of a grey or braget cat; and saith that the said cat went into the said Thomas Eastchurch shop. The said Examinant being further demanded, whether she went any more unto the said Thomas Eastchurch house, saith and confesseth that the day following she came again to the said Thomas Eastchurch's house invisible and was not seen by any person; but there this examinant did meet with the braget cat as aforesaid, and the said cat did retire and leap back into the said Thomas Eastchurch's shop. The said Examinant being further demanded when she was at the said Thomas Eastchurch the last time, saith that she was there upon Friday the 30th of June last, and that the Devil in the shape of the said Black man was there with her; and that they went up again into the said chamber, where she found the said Grace Thomas lying on her bed in a very sad condition, notwithstanding which she this examinant and the said black man did torment her again: and saith and confesseth that she this examinant had almost drawn her out of her bed, and that on purpose to put the said Grace out of her life. And further saith that the Black man (or rather the Devil) did promise this examinant, that no one should discover her. And confesseth that the said Black man or the Devil did suck her teats, which she now hath in her secret parts: and that she did kneel down to him in the street, as she was returning to her own house and after that they had tormented the said Grace Thomas in manner as last above mentioned. Being demanded of what stature the said Black man was, said, that he was about the length of her arm and that his eyes were very big, and that he hopt or leapt in the way before her; and afterwards did suck her again as she was lying down, and that his sucking was with great pain unto her, and afterwards vanished clear away out of her sight. This Examinant does further confess that upon the first of June last, whilst the said Mr. Eastchurch and his wife were absent, that she did pinch and prick the said Grace Thomas with the aid and help of the Black man in her belly, stomach, and breast, etc., and that they continued so tormenting of her, about the space of two or three hours, with an intent to have killed her. And further saith that at the same time she did see the said Anne Wakely, rubbing and chafing of several parts of the said Grace Thomas, her body; although the said Anne being present at the taking of this examination doth affirm that she did not see the said examinant. Whereas the said Temperance Lloyd hath made such an ample confession and declaration concerning the said Grace Thomas, we the said Mayor and Justice were induced to demand of her some other questions concerning other Witcheries which she had practiced upon the bodies of several other persons within this Town; viz.-- She the said examinant did confess that about the 14th of March, in the year 1670, she was accused, indicted, and arraigned for practising Witchcraft upon the body of William Herbert, late of Biddiford, husbandman; and that altho' at the trial of her life at the Castle of Exeter, she was there acquitted by the Judge and Jury then; yet this Examinant does now confess that she is guilty thereof, by the persuasion of the Black man and that she did prick the same William Herbert unto death. And whereas upon or about the 15th of May, in the year 1679, she was accused before the then Mayor and Justices of the town of Biddiford aforesaid, for practising witchcraft upon the body of Anne Fellow, the daughter of Edward Fellow of Biddiford, gent, and although her body was then searched by four women of the town of Biddiford, and the proofs then against her not so clear and conspicuous the said Mr. Fellow did not further prosecute against her--yet this examinant doth now confess, that the said Black man or Devil with her, this examinant did do some bodily hurt to the said Anne Fellow, and that thereupon the said Anne did shortly die and depart this life. Whereas we Thomas Eastchurch and Elizabeth Eastchurch his wife, Honor Hooper and Anne Wakely, upon yesterday which was the 3rd of July 1682, did give in our several informations upon our oaths, before Thomas Gist, Mayor, and John Davies, Alderman, two of his Majesties Justices of the Peace within the Burrough, etc., of Biddiford, against Temperance Lloyd, for using and practising witchcraft upon the body of Grace Thomas, as by our several examinations it doth appear: But because we were dissatisfied in some particulars concerning a piece of leather, which the said Temperance confessed of unto the said Elizabeth Eastchurch and we conceiving that there might be some enchantment used in or about the same leather; Therefore upon this present 4th of July we with the leave of Mr. Mayor did bring the said Temperance into the Parish Church of Biddiford, in the presence of Mr. Michael Ogilby, rector of the same parish church, and divers other persons, where the said Temperance was demanded by the said Mr. Ogilby, how long since the Devil did tempt her to do evil. Whereupon she did confess, that about twelve years ago, she was tempted by the Devil, to be instrumental to the death of William Herbert. And that the Devil did promise her, that she should live well and do well. And she did then also confess that she was an instrument of the death of the said William Herbert. And as to the said Grace Thomas, she further confessed, that on Friday the 23rd of June last; she the said Temperance, came into the said Thomas Eastchurch's shop, in the form of a cat, and fetcht out of the same shop, a puppet or picture (commonly called a child's baby) and that she carried the same into the chamber where the said Grace did lodge and left it about the bed: where the said Grace did lie; but would not confess that she had prickt any pins in the said puppet, or baby picture, altho she were demanded particularly that question by the said Mr. Ogilby. Also the said Temperance did then confess That she was the cause of the death of Anne Fellow, the daughter of Edward Fellow.--Also she did then confess that she was the cause of the death of one Jane Dallyn, wife of Symon Dallyn of Biddiford, mariner, by pricking her in one of her eyes, which she did so secretly perform that she was never discovered or punished for the same. Also the said Temperance did confess and declare that she did bewitch unto death one Lydia Burman of Biddiford, spinster, because she had been a witness against her, at the trial for her life, at the Assizes when she was arraigned for the death of the said William Herbert, and had deposed that the said Temperance had appeared to her in the shape of _a red pig_ at such times as she the said Lydia was brewing in the house of Humphrey Ackland of Biddiford. Being further demanded in what part of the house of the said Mr. Eastchurch, or in what part of the bed whereon the said Grace Thomas lay, she left the puppett above mentioned, saith, That she would not, nor must not discover, for if she did discover the same that the devil would tear her in pieces. And afterwards Mr. Ogilby desired her to say the Lord's prayer and her creed; which she imperfectly performing he did give her many good exhortations, and so departed from her. In witness whereof, we have hereunto set our hands, this 4th day of July Anno Domini 1682. The information of Thomas Eastchurch of Biddiford, gent, taken the 3rd of July A.D. 1682. The said informant upon his oath saith, that upon yesterday, which was 2nd of July, he did hear the said Temperance Lloyd say and confess, that about the 30th of September last, as she was returning from the bakehouse with a loaf of bread under her arm towards her own house, she did meet with some thing in the likeness of a black man in the street called Higher Gunstone Lane, within this town, and then and there the said black man did tempt and persuade her to go to this Informant's house, to torment one Grace Thomas, who is this informant's Sister in law. That the said Temperance did first refuse the temptation, saying that the said Grace Thomas had done her no harm. But afterward, by the further persuasion of the said black man, she did go to this informant's house and that she went up stairs after the said blackman: and confessed that both of them went into the chamber where the said Informant's said sister in law was, and that there they found Anne Wakely rubbing one of the arms of the said Grace Thomas. And this informant further saith--That the said Temperance did also confess that the Blackman did persuade her to pinch the said Grace in the knee, arms and shoulders, intimating with her fingers how she did it. And that when she came down stairs into the street, she saw a braget cat go into the Informant's Shop, and that she believed it to be the Devil. And this Informant did hear the said Temperance confess that on Friday night last, the Black man did meet with her near her own door about ten of the clock and there did again tempt her to go to this Informant's house and to make an end of the said Grace Thomas. Whereupon the said Temperance did go to this Informant's house with the black man, and that she did prick and pinch the said Grace Thomas again in several parts of her body, declaring with both her hands how she did it. And that thereupon the said Grace did cry out terribly. And confessed that the said black man told her that she should make an end of the said Grace Thomas. And further did confess, that the black man did promise her that no one should discover her or see her. And she also confessed that about 12 of the clock that same night that same black man did suck her in the street, she kneeling down to him. That he had blackish clothes and was about the length of her arm. That he had broad eyes and a mouth like a toad, and afterwards vanisht clear away out of her sight. This informant further saith that he heard the said Temperance confess, that about the 1st of June last the said black man was with her again, and told her that on that night she should make an end of the said Grace Thomas; and confessed that she had griped the said Grace in her belly, stomach and breast and clipt her to the heart. And that the said Grace did cry out pitifully. And that the said Temperance was about the space of two hours tormenting her. And that Anne Wakely (with several other women) were then in the chamber but could not see the said Temperance: and that the black man stood by her in the same room. This informant further saith, that he supposed that the said Grace Thomas in her sickness had been afflicted through a distemper arising from a natural cause and did repair to several physicians but that she could never receive any benefit prescribed by them. The Information of William Herbert of Biddiford blacksmith taken the 12th of August A.D. 1682. This Informant upon his oath saith, that near or upon the 2nd of February in the year 1670 he did hear his father William Herbert declare on his death bed that Temperance Lloyd of Biddiford widow had bewitched his said father unto death. This Informant's father further declaring to this informant that he with the rest of his relations should view his father's body after his decease and that by his body they should see what prints and marks the aforesaid Temperance had made upon his body. And saith that his father did lay his blood to the charge of the said Temperance Lloyd, and desired this informant to see her apprehended for the same; which was accordingly done, and saith that she was accused for the same, but that she was acquitted at the Assizes. This informant further saith, that upon the 4th of July last, he went to the prison of Biddiford, where the said Temperance was, and demanded of her, whether she had done any bodily harm unto the said William Herbert deceased; unto which she answered "Surely, William, I did kill thy father." This informant did demand of her further whether she had done any hurt to one Lydia Burman late of Biddiford, unto which the said Temperance answered that she was the cause of her death. This informant demanded of her, why she had not confessed so much when she was in prison last time? She answered that her time was not expired, for the Devil had given her greater power for a longer time. And this informant did hear the said Temperance confess that she was the cause of the death of Ann Fellow, daughter of Edward Fellow of Biddiford, gent. And also that she the said Temperance was the cause of the bewitching out of one of the eyes of Jane wife of Symon Dallyn of Biddiford, Mariner. The information of John Barnes of Biddiford, yeoman, taken the 18th of July A.D. 1682. The said informant upon his oath saith, that upon Easter Tuesday, which was the 18th of May last, this Informant's wife, Grace Barnes, was taken with very great pains of sticking and pricking in her arms, stomach and breast, as tho' she had been stabbed with awls being so described unto him by the said Grace in such a manner as this Informant thought she would have died immediately; and in such sad condition she had continued to this present day in tormenting and grievous pains. And further saith, that upon Sunday last, which was the 16th of July instant, about 10 of the clock in the forenoon, this Informant's said wife was taken worse than before, insomuch as four men and women could hardly hold her. And at that time one Agnes Whitefield, wife of John Whitefield of Biddiford, cordwainer, being in this Informant's house and hearing some body at the door, she did open the door where she found one Mary Trembles of Biddiford, single woman, standing with a white pot in her hand, as though she had been going to the common bakehouse. And thereupon this Informant's wife did ask of the said Agnes, who it was that was at the door? Unto which the said Agnes answered that it was Mary Trembles. Then this Informant's wife said that she, the said Mary Trembles was one of them that did torment her, and that she was come now to put her the said Grace out of her life. The Information of Grace Barnes, the wife of John Barnes of Biddiford, yeoman, taken the 2nd of August, Anno Domini 1682. The said Informant upon her oath saith, that she had been very much pain'd and tormented in her body these many years last past insomuch that she had sought out for remedy far and near and never had any suspicion that she had magical art or witchcraft used upon her body until about a year and half ago, that she was informed by some physicians that it was so. And further saith thereupon she had some suspicions of one Susanna Edwards of Biddiford, widow, because that the said Susanna would oftentimes repair to this Informant's house upon frivolous or no occasion at all. And further saith that about the middle of May last she was taken with very great pains of sticking and pricking in her arms, breast, and heart as though divers awls had been prick'd or stuck into her body, and was in great tormenting pains for many days and nights together with very little intermission. And saith that upon Sunday the 16th of July last, she was taken in a very grievous and tormenting manner; at which instant of time one Agnes Whitefield, the wife of John Whitefield of Biddiford, was in this Informant's house, who opening the door and looking out found one Mary Trembles of Biddiford standing before the door. And thereupon this informant did ask of the said Agnes, who it was that stood at the door? who answered that it was the said Mary Trembles. Upon which this informant was fully assured that the said Mary Trembles, together with the said Susanna Edwards, were the very persons that had tormented her by using some magical art or witchcraft upon her body as aforesaid. The Information of William Edwards, of Biddiford, blacksmith, taken the 18th of July, Anno Dom. 1682. The said Informant upon his oath saith, that upon the 17th of July inst. this informant did hear Susanna Edwards confess, that the Devil had carnal knowledge of her body; and that he had suck'd her in her breast. And further saith that he did hear the said Susanna to say, that she and one Mary Trembles of Biddiford did appear hand in hand invisible in John Barnes' house of Biddiford, where Grace the wife of the said John Barnes did lie in a very sad condition. And further saith that he did then also hear the said Susanna to say, that she and the said Mary Trembles were at that time come to make an end of the said Grace Barnes. The Information of Joane Jones, the wife of Anthony Jones of Biddiford, husbandman, taken the 18th of July, Anno Dom. 1682. The said informant upon her oath, saith that upon the 18th of July she this informant being present with Susanna Edwards of Biddiford, widow, there came to see the said Susanna one John Dunning, of Great Torrington, which said John Dunning this Informant did hear him to demand of the said Susanna how and by what means she became a witch. Unto which question the said Susanna did answer, that she did never confess afore now, but now she would. And further saith, that she did hear the said Susanna confess unto the said John Dunning that she was on a time out gathering of wood, at which time the said Susanna did see a gentleman to draw nigh unto her: whereupon she was in good hopes to have a piece of money of him. This Informant further saith that the said John Dunning did demand of the said Susanna where she did meet with the said gentleman; she did answer that it was in Parsonage Close. And further saith, that after the said John Dunning was gone, this Informant did hear the said Susanna confess, that on Sunday the 16th inst. she with Mary Trembles and by the help of the Devil, did prick and torment Grace the wife of John Barnes of Biddiford, and this informant further saith that she did hear the said Susanna Edwards and Mary Trembles say and confess that they did this present day torment and prick her the said Grace Barnes: and further saith that she did hear the said Mary Trembles say unto the said Susanna Edwards "O thou Rogue, I will now confess all: for 'tis thou that hast made me to be a witch and thou art one thyself and my conscience must swear it." Unto which the said Susanna replied, "I did not think thou would have been such a Rogue to discover it." And further saith that the said Susanna did confess that the Devil did oftentimes carry about her spirit. And further saith that she did hear the said Susanna say and confess that she did prick and torment Dorcas Coleman the wife of John Coleman of Biddiford, mariner. And further saith that she did hear the said Susanna Edwards to confess that she was suckt in her breast several times by the Devil in the shape of a boy, lying by her in her bed and that it was very cold unto her. And this Informant further saith that her husband observing the said Susanna to gripe and twinkle her hands upon her own body, said unto her, "Thou Devil, thou art now tormenting some person or other." Whereupon the said Susanna was displeased with him, and said, "Well enough I'll fit thee;" and that present time the said Grace Barnes was in great pain with prickings and stabbings in her heart, as she did afterwards affirm. This informant further saith that one of the Constables and her said husband with some others were sent by Mr. Mayor to bring the said Grace Barnes unto the Town Hall of Biddiford aforesaid, which they did accordingly do, and immediately as soon as he with others had led and with much ado brought the said Grace Barnes into the town-hall, the said Susanna Edwards turned about and looked upon her said husband, and forthwith this informant's husband was taken in a very sad condition, as he was leading and supporting the said Grace Barnes up the stairs of the said Town-hall, before the Mayor and Justices; insomuch that he cried out, "Wife I am now bewitched by this Devil" meaning Susanna Edwards; and forthwith leapt and capered like a madman and fell a shaking, quivering and groaning, and lay for the space of half an hour like a dying or dead man. And at length coming to his senses again did declare unto this Informant, that the said Susanna Edwards had bewitched him. And this Informant further saith, that she did never knew her said husband to be taken in any fits or convulsions, but a person of a sound and healthy body ever since he had been this Informant's husband. The Information of Anthony Jones of Biddiford, Husbandman, taken the 19th of July A.D. 1682. The said informant upon his oath saith, that yesterday whilst the said Susanna Edwards was in the Town-hall of Biddiford concerning the said Grace Barnes he did observe the said Susanna to gripe and twinkle her hands upon her own body, in an unusual manner: whereupon the said Susanna was displeased with this informant, and said, "Well enough I will fit thee." And at that present time the said Grace Barnes was in great pains with prickings and stabbings unto her heart as the said Grace did afterwards affirm. This Informant further saith that one of the constables etc. with some others being sent by order of Mr. Mayor, to bring the said Grace unto the Town-hall of Biddiford, immediately, as soon as they had brought the said Grace unto the Town-hall, the said Susanna turned about and looked upon this informant, and forthwith the Informant was taken in a very sad condition as he was coming up the stairs of the said Town-hall, before the Mayor and Justices, insomuch that he cried out, "Wife, I am now bewitched by this Devil Susanna Edwards." The Examination of Mary Trembles of Biddiford, single woman, taken July 18th, 1682. The said Examinant being brought before us and accused for practising of witchcraft upon the body of Grace Barnes, wife of George Barnes, of Biddiford, yeoman, was demanded by as how long she had practised witchcraft, said and confessed, that about three years last past, one Susanna Edwards of Biddiford, widow, did inform her, that if she would do as the said Susanna did, that this Examinant should do very well. Whereupon this Examinant did yield unto the said Susanna Edwards, and said that she would do as the said Susanna did; and this Examinant further confesseth that the said Susanna Edwards did promise that this Examinant should neither want for money, drink, nor clothes. And further confesseth that after she had made this bargain with Susanna Edwards, that the Devil in the shape of a Lyon (as she conceived) did come to this Examinant--and that he did suck her, and that his sucking was so hard as to cause her to cry out for the pain thereof. And further confesseth that on Tuesday in Easter week, which was 18th of May last, she, this Examinant did go about the town of Biddiford, to beg some bread, and in her walk, she did meet with the said Susanna Edwards, who asked this Examinant where she had been. Unto whom this Examinant answered, that she had been about the town, and had begged some meat, but could get none. Whereupon this Examinant, together with the said Susanna, did go to the said John Barnes' house, in hope that there they should have some meat. But the said John Barnes not being within his house, they could get no meat or bread, being denied by the said Grace Barnes and her servants, who would not give them any meat. Whereupon the said Susanna Edwards did bid this Examinant to go to the said John Barnes' house again, for a farthing's worth of tobacco. Whereupon this Examinant did go, but could not have any: whereof this Examinant did acquaint the said Susanna, who then said that it should be better for the said Grace if she had let this Examinant have had some tobacco. And further confesseth, that on the 16th of this instant, she the said Susanna, did go to the said John Barnes house, and went into the fore door, invisibly into the room, where they did pinch and prick the said Grace Barnes almost unto death; and that she saw the said John Barnes in bed with his wife, on the inner side of the bed. And saith and confesseth, that on the 16th inst. as she was going towards the common bakehouse, she, with the help of the Devil, would have killed the said Grace Barnes, if that she, this examinant, had not spilt some of the meat she was then carrying to the bakehouse. The examination of Susanna Edwards, of Biddiford, widow, taken 18th of July A.D. 1682. The said Examinant being brought before us, and accused of practising witchcraft upon the body of Grace Barnes, wife of John Barnes of Biddiford, yeoman, was demanded by us how long she had discourse or familiarity with the Devil; saith, that about two years ago, she did meet with a gentleman in a field called the Parsonage Close, in the town of Biddiford, and saith, that his apparel was all of black. Upon which she did hope to have a piece of money of him. Whereupon the gentleman drawing near unto this examinant, she did make a curchy or courtesy unto him, as used to do to gentlemen. Being demanded what and who the said gentleman, she spake of was, the said examinant answered, that it was the Devil. And confessed that the Devil did ask of her, whether she was a poor woman? Unto whom she answered, that she was a poor woman; and that thereupon the Devil, in the shape of the gentleman, did say unto her, that if this examinant would grant him one request, that she should neither want for meat, drink, nor clothes: whereupon this examinant did say unto the said gentleman (or rather the Devil) "In the name of God, what is it that I shall have?" Upon which the said gentleman vanished clear away from her. And further confesseth, that afterwards there was something in the shape of a little boy, which she thinks to be the Devil, came into her house, and did lie with her and that he did suck at her breast. And confesseth that she did afterwards meet him in a place called Stanbridge Lane, in this parish of Biddiford leading towards Abbotsham (which is the next parish on the west of Biddiford) where he did suck blood out of her breast. And further confesseth that on Sunday the 16th inst., this Examinant together with Mary Trembles, did go unto the house of John Barnes, and that nobody did see them; and that they were in the same room where Grace the wife of the John Barnes was, and that they did prick and pinch the said Grace Barnes with their fingers, and put her to great pain and torment, insomuch that the said Grace was almost dead. And confesseth, that this present day, she did prick and torment the said Grace Barnes again (intimating with her fingers how she did it). And also confesseth that the Devil did entice her to make an end of the said Grace: and that he told her he would come again to her once more. And confesseth, that she can go to any place invisible, and yet her body shall be lying in her bed. And further confesseth, that the Devil hath appeared to her in the shape of a Lyon, as she supposed. Being demanded whether she had done any bodily hurt unto any other person beside the said Grace Barnes, saith and confesseth, that she did prick and torment Dorcas Coleman, wife of John Coleman of Biddiford, mariner. And saith that she gave herself to the Devil, when she did meet him in Stambridge Lane as aforesaid. And saith, that the said Mary Trembles was a servant to her, this examinant, in like manner as she this examinant was a servant to the Devil (whom she called by the appellation of a gentleman). _Examined with the original whereof this is a true copy._ Thomas Gist. _Mayor._ John Davies. _Alderman._ John Hill. _Town Clerk._ The substance of the last words and confession of Susanna Edwards, Temperance Lloyd, and Mary Trembles, at the time and place of their execution, Aug. 25, 1682, as fully as could be taken in a case liable to be so much noise and confusion as is usual on such occasions. _Mr. H._ Mary Trembles, what have you to say as to the crime you are to die for? _Mary._ I have spoken as much as I can speak already, and can speak no more. _H._ In what shape did the Devil come to you? _Mary._ The Devil came to me once, I think like a Lyon. _H._ Did he offer violence to you? _Mary._ No, not at all: but did frighten me, and did nothing to me; and I cried to God and asked what he would have, and he vanished. _H._ Did he give thee any gift, or did'st thou make him any promises? _Mary._ No. _H._ Did he ever make use of thy body? _M._ Never in my life. _H._ Have you a secret teat? _M._ None. (The grand inquest said it was sworn to them.) _H._ Mary Trembles, was not the Devil there with Susan, when I was once in prison with you, and under her coats? the other told me he was there, but is now fled; and that the Devil was in the way when I was going to Taunton with my son, who is a Minister? Thou speakest now as a dying woman, and as the Psalmist says, "I will confess my iniquities, and acknowledge all my sins." We find that Mary Magdalene had seven Devils: and she came to Christ and had mercy, and if thou break thy league with the Devil, and make a covenant with God, thou may'st also obtain mercy. If thou hast anything to speak, speak thy mind? _Mary._ I have spoken the very truth and can speak no more: Mr. H. I would desire that they may come by me, and confess as I have done. _H._ Temperance Lloyd. Have you made any contract with the Devil? _T._ No. _H._ Did he ever take any of thy blood? _T._ No. _H._ How did he appear to thee at the first, or where, in the street? In what shape? _T._ In a wonderful shape. _H._ Had he ever any carnal knowledge of thee? _T._ No, never. _H._ What did he do when he came to thee? _T._ He caused me to go and do harm. _H._ And did you go? _T._ I did hurt a woman sore against my conscience: he carried me up to her door, which was open: The woman's name was Mrs. Grace Thomas. _H._ What caused you to do harm? What Malice had you against her? and did she do you any harm? _T._ No, she never did me any harm: but the Devil beat me about the head grievously, because I would not kill her: but I did bruise her after this fashion (laying her two hands to her side). _H._ Did you bruise her till the blood came out of her nose and mouth? _T._ No. _H._ How many did you destroy and hurt? _T._ None but she. _H._ Did you know any mariners that you or your associates destroyed by overturning of ships or boats? _T._ No. I never hurt any ship, bark, or boat in my life. _H._ Was it you or Susan that did bewitch the children? _T._ I sold apples, and the child took an apple from me, and the mother took the apple from the child, for which I was very angry; but the child died of small-pox. _H._ Did you know one Mr. Lutteris about these parts, or any of your confederates? Did you or them bewitch his child? _T._ No. _H._ Temperance, how did you come to hurt Mrs. Grace Thomas? Did you pass through the keyhole of the door or was the door open? _T._ The Devil did lead me up stairs, and the door was open, and this is all the hurt I did. _H._ How did you know it was the Devil? _T._ I knew it by his eyes. _H._ Had you no discourse or treaty with him? _T._ No. He said I should go along with him to destroy a woman, and I told him I would not. He said he would make me: and then he beat me about the head. _H._ Why did you not call upon God? _T._ He would not let me do it. _H._ You say you never hurt ships or boats; did you never ride over an arm of the sea on a cow? _T._ No. No, Master: 'twas she (meaning Susan), when Temperance said "'twas she," she said "she lied" and that she was the cause of bringing her to die "for she cried when she was first brought to gaol, if that she was hanged, she would have me hanged too; she reported I should ride on a cow before her, which I never did." _H._ Susan, did you see the shape of a bullock? At the first time of your examination you said it was like a short black man about the length of your arm? _Susan._ He was black, Sir. _H._ Susan, had you any knowledge of the bewitching of Mrs. Lutteris' child, or did you know a place called Trunta Burroughs? _S._ No. _H._ Are you willing to have any prayers? Then Mr. H. prayed, whose prayer we could not take, and they sung part of the 40th Psalm at the desire of Susan Edwards. As she mounted the ladder, she said, "The Lord Jesus speed me: though my sins be red as scarlet, the Lord Jesus can make them as white as snow, the Lord help my soul." Then was executed. Mary Tremble said, "Lord Jesus, receive my soul! Lord Jesus, speed me!" and then was also executed. Temperance Lloyd said, "Jesus Christ, speed me well! Lord, forgive all my sins! Lord Jesus Christ, be merciful to my poor soul." Mr. Sheriff. You are looked on as the woman that hath debauched the other two. Did you ever lie with the Devil? _T._ No. _Sh._ Did you know of their coming to gaol? _T._ No. _Sh._ Have you anything to say to satisfy the world? _T._ I forgive them as I desire the Lord Jesus will forgive me. The greatest thing that I did was Mrs. Grace Thomas; and I desire I may be sensible of it, and that the Lord Jesus Christ may forgive me. The Devil met me in the street and bid me kill her, and because I would not, he beat me about the head and back. _Sh._ In what shape or colour was he? _T._ In black like a bullock. _Sh._ How do you know you did it? how went you in thro' the keyhole or the Door? _T._ At the Door? _Sh._ Had you no discourse with the Devil? _T._ Never but this day six weeks. _Sh._ You were charged about twelve years since, and did you never see the Devil but about this time? _T._ Yes, once before. I was going for brooms; and he came to me and said, "This poor woman has a great burthen, and would help ease me of my burthen;" and I said, "The Lord had enabled me to carry it so far, and I hope I shall be able to carry it further." _Sh._ Did the Devil never promise you any thing? _T._ No. Never. _Sh._ Then you have served a very bad master, who gave you nothing. Well, consider you are just departing this world: do you believe there is a God? _T._ Yes. _Sh._ Do you believe in Jesus Christ? _T._ Yes, and I pray Jesus Christ to pardon all my sins. And so was executed. APPENDIX.--No. II. Copied from a 4to published Tract in the Library of the British Museum. THE TRYAL, CONDEMNATION, AND EXECUTION OF THREE WITCHES; VIZ. TEMPERANCE FLOYD, MARY FLOYD, & SUSANNA EDWARDS. Who were arraigned at Exeter on the 18th of August, 1682, & being proved guilty of witchcraft were condemned to be hanged, which was accordingly Executed in the view of many spectators, whose strange and much to be lamented Impudence is never to be forgotten. Also how they Confessed what Mischiefs they had done by the assistance of the Devil, who lay with the above named Temperance Floyd nine nights together. Also how they squeezed one Hannah Thomas to death in their arms. How they also caused several ships to be cast away, causing a boy to fall from the top of a main-mast into the sea. WITH MANY WONDERFULL THINGS WORTH YOUR READING. Printed for F. Deacon, at the Sign of the Rainbow, a little beyond St. Andrew's Church, in Holborn. 1682. The Tryal, Condemnation, and Execution of three witches who were Arraigned at Exeter on the 18th of August, 1682. Let not my assertion seem strange to the Ingenious Reader, who seems to affirm this (by some incredulous) story, concerning the subsequent matter; nor will I trouble you with a long prologue to stir you to believe that which so many letters have verified, concerning the matter in hand, but so it was. The Assizes being held at Exon (alias) Exeter, on the 18th of August, 1682. It happened that there was three persons Arraigned for witchcraft whose names take as followeth, (viz.) Temperance Floyd, Mary Floyd, and Susannah Edwards, all dwelling in one town, in the aforesaid County of Devon, namely Bideford, by some called Bythford, all three being stricken in years, which might have taught them more grace; but Man's Enemy, Soul's destroyer, and the author of wickedness so prevailed with them that they made an Interchange accepting a Hell for an Heaven, rather willing to please the Devil than the Great Creator whose smiles are more precious than refined Gold, the loss of whose love is no less than Everlasting Destruction. These I say, these poor souls (aiming at nothing but ruin) embrace folly instead of wisdom, present pleasure for eternal pain; take Flames for Crowns, Misery for Happiness, change God for a Devil and a soul for Hell. It is so much to be lamented that these persons should take delight in nothing more than to Converse with Devils, who reason tells seeks nothing but Destruction, God's dishonour, and Man's overthrow, to (if it were possible) empty Heaven and fill Hell. I come now to the particulars. The aforesaid Persons whose names are already inserted came to their Tryal having been sometime before accused of Witchcraft, and for that cause Imprisonment; when they came to the Bar, their indictment was read, and though the Devil had so much power over them, yet they had not Impudence enough to deny what they were accused for: Intemperate Temperance Floyd, who was the eldest of the three, pleaded to the indictment, and owned the accusation, acknowledging she had been in league with the Devil 20 years and upwards, and that in the term of those years she had been guilty of many cruelties, and by Hellish power afflicted both Man and Beast; but now to the other Two who were instructed in that Damnable art of Witchcraft by the above named Temperance Floyd, they acknowledged that they had served five years with her to learn her accursed art, and during the term of those years they saw and were acquainted with many wonderful and unlawful tricks. For they owned that they had not been idle in their Hellish practices, but had served him faithfully, who will reward them gratefully for their Diabolical Indulgence. We have an account of some of their Wicked, Inhuman, Accursed, Damnable, and Preposterous action. But let us chiefly mind the Eldest and worst of these Three, namely Temperance Floyd. Let her be the substance of our matter, who was the introducer and cause of the other two's overthrow. These wicked wretches being all of one mind, at last began to exercise their Devilish Arts, and upon one Mr. Hann, a minister in those parts; a person of good repute and Honest Conversation, who sought his soul's eternal happiness, while they designed their everlasting Ruin. These Hellish agents intended Mischief and misery to the person of Mr. Hann: but the overruling Power prevented them; but because they could not be suffered to exercise their Diabolicism upon his body, they thought they would be some other way Revenged, so witch like, they laid their Diabolical Charms upon his cattle, so that those cows that used to give milk, when they came to be milked they gave blood, to the great astonishment of the milkers; but finding themselves outcast from everlasting happiness, they grew insolent in their Cursed Conceits, resolving to make use of that art which they should so deadly pay for. But I too much insist upon the Old hag whose cruelties are and were sufficiently manifested by her own confession at her Tryal, the other Two witches being somewhat younger than the Old Shape of Prince Lucifer, who acknowledged themselves to have been servants to the Old one for five years to learn the art and mystery of Hellish, Damnable, Accursed and Most to be Lamented Witchcraft; and in the term of these 5 years grew to be as dexterous as their Devilish Tutor, trying their experiments upon Man and Beast to the injury of both, but the Old one confessed plainly that she had caused several Ships at sea to be cast away, with loss of many men's lives and the prejudice of many others. She confessed also that the Devil lay carnally with her for Nine Nights together, and that she had Paps about her an Inch long, which the Devil us'd to suck to Provoke her to Letchery; but the other two seemed to be more Pensive than she, for they confessed that she was the Introducer of their Misery, and that they had served both the Devil and her five years' slavery, to understand the ready way to everlasting Destruction. But Heaven's Vengeance never fails to follow such offenders who do wickedly, presumptuously and prophanely make use of the Devil to satisfy their Impious wills. But to proceed, this old witch whose name was Temperance Floyd, was without doubt perfectly Resolute, not minding what should become of her Immortal soul, but rather Impudently owned at, as well as after her Tryal, so Audacious, that she had done many wicked Exploits by the Power (not virtue) of her Hellish Discipline: She confessed that she had been Instrumental to the Death of several, namely one Hannah Thomas, by pretence of love, Squeezing her in her arms so long till the blood gushed out of her mouth; she confessed that she and the other two had been the death of Two more, besides several others that they had lamed by their Hellish Art; they confessed that they had been the destruction of many cattle, both small and great, and many more things too tedious to relate; being asked at their trial to say the Lord's Prayer, they answered, that they could not except it were backwards; they said the Devil used to be with them on Nights in Several Shapes, sometimes like a Hound, who Hunted before them (but without doubt he hunted for Souls). There were many more accusations laid against them, which they all owned (except one) which was about causing a ship to be sunk, and a boy that fell from the Topmast of another ship and so broke his neck or as some say Drowned in the Sea. It being asked how long they had been in league with the Devil, one of them said twenty years she had been his Familiar Acquaintance, the other two were of lesser standing, but long enough to Ruin their Precious Souls. They also Asserted that the Devil came with them to the Prison Door, and there left them much like what he is, the Author of Lies, the Inventor of Mischief, the Betrayer of Souls, the unsatisfied deceiver and God's Enemy. All these things being Confessed by their own Tongues, it is not strange to think that Judgment past upon them regularly in such cases. But now to proceed. As to the manner of their Deportment going to the place of Execution. It is certainly affirmed the old witch Temperance Floyd went all the way Eating and was seemingly unconcerned, but Mary Floyd was very obstinate, and would not go, but lay down, insomuch that they forc'd to tye her on a horse's back, for she was very loath to receive her deserved Doom. But when they came to the place of Execution, they desired the Minister to pray for them, and that part of the 40th Psalm might be sung; which was accordingly done, and presently after the Executioner did his office. Thus have you heard of the wicked life and Miserable death of three Gross Offenders, who slighted God's Commandments, despised a Christ and embraced a Devil, lost Heaven to purchase Hell, at the dear rate of their Immortal Souls. Let this then be a caution for all Sinners to forsake Sin and Satan, whose end and design is to ruin Souls, to enslave Mortals, and without doubt, were it possible, to pull God's Almighty Majesty out of his everlasting Throne. 'Tis great pitty that some have so little esteem of their Jewels which Jesus Christ the Son of the Almighty, purchased at so dear a rate, yet vile Sinners never call to mind, or at least very seldom, what Labyrinths of Misery they involve themselves in, how they crush Christ, and how they wound his already wounded side for sinners: But now to conclude, take a poor sinners advice, walk uprightly and justly, and let not the fruition of present enjoyment, cause you to neglect Eternal Happiness, the enjoyments of which is beyond Expression and the loss thereof Eternal Misery, Destruction, and Ruin. 
8743	----	THE AMBER WITCH by Wilhelm Meinhold The most interesting trial for witchcraft ever known. Printed from an imperfect manuscript by her father Abraham Schweidler, the pastor of Coserow, in the Island of Usedom. Translated from the German by Lady Duff Gordon. Original publication date: 1846. PREFACE In laying before the public this deeply affecting and romantic trial, which I have not without reason called on the title-page the most interesting of all trials for witchcraft ever known, I will first give some account of the history of the manuscript. At Coserow, in the Island of Usedom, my former cure, the same which was held by our worthy author some two hundred years ago, there existed under a seat in the choir of the church a sort of niche, nearly on a level with the floor. I had, indeed, often seen a heap of various writings in this recess; but owing to my short sight, and the darkness of the place, I had taken them for antiquated hymn-books, which were lying about in great numbers. But one day, while I was teaching in the church, I looked for a paper mark in the Catechism of one of the boys, which I could not immediately find; and my old sexton, who was past eighty (and who, although called Appelmann, was thoroughly unlike his namesake in our story, being a very worthy, although a most ignorant man), stooped down to the said niche, and took from it a folio volume which I had never before observed, out of which he, without the slightest hesitation, tore a strip of paper suited to my purpose, and reached it to me. I immediately seized upon the book, and, after a few minutes' perusal, I know not which was greater, my astonishment or my vexation at this costly prize. The manuscript, which was bound in vellum, was not only defective both at the beginning and at the end, but several leaves had even been torn out here and there in the middle. I scolded the old man as I had never done during the whole course of my life; but he excused himself, saying that one of my predecessors had given him the manuscript for waste paper, as it had lain about there ever since the memory of man, and he had often been in want of paper to twist round the altar candles, etc. The aged and half-blind pastor had mistaken the folio for old parochial accounts which could be of no more use to any one.[1] No sooner had I reached home than I fell to work upon my new acquisition, and after reading a bit here and there with considerable trouble, my interest was powerfully excited by the contents. I soon felt the necessity of making myself better acquainted with the nature and conduct of these witch trials, with the proceedings, nay, even with the history of the whole period in which these events occur. But the more I read of these extraordinary stories, the more was I confounded; and neither the trivial Beeker (_die bezauberte Welt_, the enchanted world), nor the more careful Horst (_Zauberbibliothek_, the library of magic), to which, as well as to several other works on the same subject, I had flown for information, could resolve my doubts, but rather served to increase them. Not alone is the demoniacal character, which pervades nearly all these fearful stories, so deeply marked, as to fill the attentive reader with feelings of alternate horror and dismay, but the eternal and unchangeable laws of human feeling and action are often arrested in a manner so violent and unforeseen, that the understanding is entirely baffled. For instance, one of the original trials which a friend of mine, a lawyer, discovered in our province, contains the account of a mother, who, after she had suffered the torture, and received the holy Sacrament, and was on the point of going to the stake, so utterly lost all maternal feeling, that her conscience obliged her to accuse as a witch her only dearly-loved daughter, a girl of fifteen, against whom no one had ever entertained a suspicion, in order, as she said, to save her poor soul. The court, justly amazed at an event which probably has never since been paralleled, caused the state of the mother's mind to be examined both by clergymen and physicians, whose original testimonies are still appended to the records, and are all highly favourable to her soundness of mind. The unfortunate daughter, whose name was Elizabeth Hegel, was actually executed on the strength of her mother's accusation.[2] The explanation commonly received at the present day, that these phenomena were produced by means of animal magnetism, is utterly insufficient. How, for instance, could this account for the deeply demoniacal nature of old Lizzie Kolken as exhibited in the following pages? It is utterly incomprehensible, and perfectly explains why the old pastor, notwithstanding the horrible deceits practised on him in the person of his daughter, retained as firm a faith in the truth of witchcraft as in that of the Gospel. During the earlier centuries of the middle ages little was known of witchcraft. The crime of magic, when it did occur, was leniently punished. For instance, the Council of Ancyra (314) ordained the whole punishment of witches to consist in expulsion from the Christian community. The Visigoths punished them with stripes, and Charlemagne, by advice of his bishops, confined them in prison until such time as they should sincerely repent.[3] It was not until very soon before the Reformation, that Innocent VIII. lamented that the complaints of universal Christendom against the evil practices of these women had become so general and so loud, that the most vigorous measures must be taken against them; and towards the end of the year 1489, he caused the notorious Hammer for Witches (_Malleus Maleficarum_) to be published, according to which proceedings were set on foot with the most fanatical zeal, not only in Catholic, but, strange to say, even in Protestant Christendom, which in other respects abhorred everything belonging to Catholicism. Indeed, the Protestants far outdid the Catholics in cruelty, until, among the latter, the noble-minded Jesuit, J. Spee, and among the former, but not until seventy years later, the excellent Thomasius, by degrees put a stop to these horrors. After careful examination into the nature and characteristics of witchcraft, I soon perceived that among all these strange and often romantic stories, not one surpassed my 'amber witch' in lively interest; and I determined to throw her adventures into the form of a romance. Fortunately, however, I was soon convinced that her story was already in itself the most interesting of all romances; and that I should do far better to leave it in its original antiquated form, omitting whatever would be uninteresting to modern readers, or so universally known as to need no repetition. I have therefore attempted, not indeed to supply what is missing at the beginning and end, but to restore those leaves which have been torn out of the middle, imitating, as accurately as I was able, the language and manner of the old biographer, in order that the difference between the original narrative and my own interpolations might not be too evident. This I have done with much trouble, and after many ineffectual attempts; but I refrain from pointing out the particular passages which I have supplied, so as not to disturb the historical interest of the greater part of my readers. For modern criticism, which has now attained to a degree of acuteness never before equalled, such a confession would be entirely superfluous, as critics will easily distinguish the passages where Pastor Schweidler speaks from those written by Pastor Meinhold. I am, nevertheless, bound to give the public some account of what I have omitted, namely,-- 1st. Such long prayers as were not very remarkable for Christian unction. 2d. Well-known stories out of the Thirty Years' War. 3d. Signs and wonders in the heavens, which were seen here and there, and which are recorded by other Pomeranian writers of these fearful times; for instance, by Micraelius.[4] But when these events formed part of the tale itself, as, for instance, the cross on the Streckelberg, I, of course, allowed them to stand. 4th. The specification of the whole income of the church at Coserow, before and during the terrible times of the Thirty Years' War. 5th. The enumeration of the dwellings left standing, after the devastations made by the enemy in every village throughout the parish. 6th. The names of the districts to which this or that member of the congregation had emigrated. 7th. A ground plan and description of the old Manse. I have likewise here and there ventured to make a few changes in the language, as my author is not always consistent in the use of his words or in his orthography. The latter I have, however, with very few exceptions, retained. And thus I lay before the gracious reader a work, glowing with the fire of heaven, as well as with that of hell. MEINHOLD. [1] The original manuscript does indeed contain several accounts which at first sight may have led to this mistake; besides, the handwriting is extremely difficult to read, and in several places the paper is discoloured and decayed. [2] It is my intention to publish this trial also, as it possesses very great psychological interest. [3] Horst, _Zauberbibliothek_, vi. p. 231. [4] _Vom Alten Pommerlande_ (of old Pomerania), book v. INTRODUCTION The origin of our biographer cannot be traced with any degree of certainty, owing to the loss of the first part of his manuscript. It is, however, pretty clear that he was not a Pomeranian, as he says he was in Silesia in his youth, and mentions relations scattered far and wide, not only at Hamburg and Cologne, but even at Antwerp; above all, his south German language betrays a foreign origin, and he makes use of words which are, I believe, peculiar to Swabia. He must, however, have been living for a long time in Pomerania at the time he wrote, as he even more frequently uses Low-German expressions, such as occur in contemporary native Pomeranian writers. Since he sprang from an ancient noble family, as he says on several occasions, it is possible that some particulars relating to the Schweidlers might be discovered in the family records of the seventeenth century which would give a clew to his native country; but I have sought for that name in all the sources of information accessible to me, in vain, and am led to suspect that our author, like many of his contemporaries, laid aside his nobility and changed his name when he took holy orders. I will not, however, venture on any further conjectures; the manuscript, of which six chapters are missing, begins with the words "Imperialists plundered," and evidently the previous pages must have contained an account of the breaking out of the Thirty Years' War in the island of Usedom. It goes on as follows:-- "Coffers, chests, and closets were all plundered and broken to pieces, and my surplice also was torn, so that I remained in great distress and tribulation. But my poor little daughter they did not find, seeing that I had hidden her in the stable, which was dark, without which I doubt not they would have made my heart heavy indeed. The lewd dogs would even have been rude to my old maid Ilse, a woman hard upon fifty, if an old cornet had not forbidden them. Wherefore I gave thanks to my Maker when the wild guests were gone, that I had first saved my child from their clutches, although not one dust of flour, nor one grain of corn, one morsel of meat even of a finger's length was left, and I knew not how I should any longer support my own life, and my poor child's. _Item_, I thanked God that I had likewise secured the _vasa sacra_, which I had forthwith buried in the church in front of the altar, in presence of the two churchwardens, Hinrich Seden and Claus Bulken, of Uekeritze, commending them to the care of God. And now because, as I have already said, I was suffering the pangs of hunger, I wrote to his lordship the Sheriff Wittich V. Appelmann, at Pudgla, that for the love of God and his holy Gospel he should send me that which his highness' grace Philippus Julius had allowed me as _praestanda_ from the convent at Pudgla, to wit, thirty bushels of barley and twenty-five marks of silver, which, howbeit his lordship had always withheld from me hitherto (for he was a very hard inhuman man, as he despised the holy Gospel and the preaching of the Word, and openly, without shame, reviled the servants of God, saying that they were useless feeders, and that Luther had but half cleansed the pigstye of the Church--God mend it!). But he answered me nothing, and I should have perished for want if Hinrich Seden had not begged for me in the parish. May God reward the honest fellow for it in eternity! Moreover, he was then growing old, and was sorely plagued by his wicked wife Lizzie Kolken. Methought when I married them that it would not turn out over well, seeing that she was in common report of having long lived in unchastity with Wittich Appelmann, who had ever been an arch-rogue, and especially an arrant whoremaster, and such the Lord never blesses. This same Seden now brought me five loaves, two sausages, and a goose, which old goodwife Paal, at Loddin, had given him; also a flitch of bacon from the farmer Jack Tewert. But he said I must shield him from his wife, who would have had half for herself, and when he denied her she cursed him, and wished him gout in his head, whereupon he straightway felt a pain in his right cheek, and it was quite hard and heavy already. At such shocking news I was affrighted, as became a good pastor, and asked whether peradventure he believed that she stood in evil communication with Satan, and could bewitch folks? But he said nothing, and shrugged his shoulders. So I sent for old Lizzie to come to me, who was a tall, meagre woman of about sixty, with squinting eyes, so that she could not look any one in the face; likewise with quite red hair, and indeed her goodman had the same. But though I diligently admonished her out of God's Word, she made no answer until at last I said, 'Wilt thou unbewitch thy goodman (for I saw from the window how that he was raving in the street like a madman), or wilt thou that I should inform the magistrate of thy deeds?' Then, indeed, she gave in, and promised that he should soon be better (and so he was); moreover she begged that I would give her some bread and some bacon, inasmuch as it was three days since she had a bit of anything to put between her lips, saving always her tongue. So my daughter gave her half a loaf, and a piece of bacon about two handsbreadths large; but she did not think it enough, and muttered between her teeth; whereupon my daughter said, 'If thou art not content, thou old witch, go thy ways and help thy goodman; see how he has laid his head on Zabel's fence, and stamps with his feet for pain.' Whereupon she went away, but still kept muttering between her teeth, 'Yea, forsooth, I will help him and thee too.'" _The Seventh Chapter_ HOW THE IMPERIALISTS ROBBED ME OF ALL THAT WAS LEFT, AND LIKEWISE BROKE INTO THE CHURCH AND STOLE THE _VASA SACRA_; ALSO WHAT MORE BEFELL US After a few days, when we had eaten almost all our food, my last cow fell down dead (the wolves had already devoured the others, as mentioned above), not without a strong suspicion that Lizzie had a hand in it, seeing that the poor beast had eaten heartily the day before; but I leave that to a higher judge, seeing that I would not willingly calumniate any one; and it may have been the will of God, whose wrath I have well deserved. _Summa_, I was once more in great need, and my daughter Mary pierced my heart with her sighs, when the cry was raised that another troop of Imperialists was come to Uekeritze, and was marauding there more cruelly than ever, and, moreover, had burnt half the village. Wherefore I no longer thought myself safe in my cottage; and after I had commended everything to the Lord in a fervent prayer, I went up with my daughter and old Ilse into the Streckelberg, where I already had looked out for ourselves a hole like a cavern, well grown over with brambles, against the time when the troubles should drive us thither. We therefore took with us all we had left to us for the support of our bodies, and fled into the woods, sighing and weeping, whither we soon were followed by the old men, and the women and children; these raised a great cry of hunger when they saw my daughter sitting on a log and eating a bit of bread and meat, and the little things came with their tiny hands stretched out and cried "Have some too, have some too." Therefore, being justly moved by such great distress, I hindered not my daughter from sharing all the bread and meat that remained among the hungry children. But first I made them pray--"The eyes of all wait upon thee"; upon which words I then spake comfortably to the people, telling them that the Lord, who had now fed their little children, would find means to fill their own bellies, and that they must not be weary of trusting in him. This comfort did not, however, last long; for after we had rested within and around the cavern for about two hours, the bells in the village began to ring so dolefully that it went nigh to break all our hearts, the more as loud firing was heard between-whiles; _item_, the cries of men and the barking of dogs resounded, so that we could easily guess that the enemy was in the village. I had enough to do to keep the women quiet, that they might not by their senseless lamentations betray our hiding-place to the cruel enemy; and more still when it began to smell smoky, and presently the bright flames gleamed through the trees. I therefore sent old Paasch up to the top of the hill, that he might look around and see how matters stood, but told him to take good care that they did not see him from the village, seeing that the twilight had but just begun. This he promised, and soon returned with the news that about twenty horsemen had galloped out of the village towards the Damerow, but that half the village was in flames. _Item_, he told us that by a wonderful dispensation of God a great number of birds had appeared in the juniper-bushes and elsewhere, and that if we could catch them they would be excellent food for us. I therefore climbed up the hill myself, and having found everything as he had said, and also perceived that the fire had, by the help of God's mercy, abated in the village; _item_, that my cottage was left standing, far beyond my merits and deserts; I came down again and comforted the people, saying, "The Lord hath given us a sign, and he will feed us, as he fed the people of Israel in the wilderness; for he has sent us a fine flight of fieldfares across the barren sea, so that they whirr out of every bush as ye come near it. Who will now run down into the village, and cut off the mane and tail of my dead cow which lies out behind on the common?" (for there was no horsehair in all the village, seeing that the enemy had long since carried off or stabbed all the horses). But no one would go, for fear was stronger even than hunger, till my old Ilse spoke, and said, "I will go, for I fear nothing, when I walk in the ways of God; only give me a good stick." When old Paasch had lent her his staff, she began to sing, "God the Father be with us," and was soon out of sight among the bushes. Meanwhile I exhorted the people to set to work directly, and to cut little wands for springes, and to gather berries while the moon still shone; there were a great quantity of mountain-ash and elder-bushes all about the mountain. I myself and my daughter Mary stayed to guard the little children, because it was not safe there from wolves. We therefore made a blazing fire, sat ourselves around it, and heard the little folks say the Ten Commandments, when there was a rustling and crackling behind us, and my daughter jumped up and ran into the cavern, crying, "_Proh dolor hostis_!" But it was only some of the able-bodied men who had stayed behind in the village, and who now came to bring us word how things stood there. I therefore called to her directly, "_Emergas amici_" whereupon she came skipping joyously out, and sat down again by the fire, and forthwith my warden Hinrich Seden related all that had happened, and how his life had only been saved by means of his wife Lizzie Kolken; but that Jurgen Flatow, Chim Burse, Claus Peer, and Chim Seideritz were killed, and the last named of them left lying on the church steps. The wicked incendiaries had burned down twelve sheds, and it was not their fault that the whole village was not destroyed, but only in consequence of the wind not being in the quarter that suited their purpose. Meanwhile they tolled the bells in mockery and scorn, to see whether any one would come and quench the fire; and that when he and the three other young fellows came forward they fired off their muskets at them, but, by God's help, none of them were hit. Hereupon his three comrades jumped over the paling and escaped; but him they caught, and had already taken aim at him with their firelocks, when his wife Lizzie Kolken came out of the church with another troop and beckoned to them to leave him in peace. But they stabbed Lene Hebers as she lay in childbed, speared the child, and flung it over Claus Peer's hedge among the nettles, where it was yet lying when they came away. There was not a living soul left in the village, and still less a morsel of bread, so that unless the Lord took pity on their need they must all die miserably of hunger. (Now who is to believe that such people can call themselves Christians!) I next inquired, when he had done speaking (but with many sighs, as any one may guess), after my cottage; but of that they knew nought save that it was still standing. I thanked the Lord therefore with a quiet sigh; and having asked old Seden what his wife had been doing in the church, I thought I should have died for grief when I heard that the villains came out of it with both the chalices and patens in their hands. I therefore spoke very sharply to old Lizzie, who now came slinking through the bushes; but she answered insolently that the strange soldiers had forced her to open the church, as her goodman had crept behind the hedge, and nobody else was there; that they had gone straight up to the altar, and seeing that one of the stones was not well fitted (which, truly, was an arch-lie), had begun to dig with their swords till they found the chalices and patens; or somebody else might have betrayed the spot to them, so I need not always to lay the blame on her, and rate her so hardly. Meanwhile the old men and the women came with a good store of berries; _item_, my old maid, with the cow's tail and mane, who brought word that the whole house was turned upside down, the windows all broken, and the books and writings trampled in the dirt in the midst of the street, and the doors torn off their hinges. This, however, was a less sorrow to me than the chalices; and I only bade the people make springes and snares, in order next morning to begin our fowling, with the help of Almighty God. I therefore scraped the rods myself until near midnight; and when we had made ready a good quantity, I told old Seden to repeat the evening blessing, which we all heard on our knees; after which I wound up with a prayer, and then admonished the people to creep in under the bushes to keep them from the cold (seeing that it was now about the end of September, and the wind blew very fresh from the sea), the men apart, and the women also apart by themselves. I myself went up with my daughter and my maid into the cavern, where I had not slept long before I heard old Seden moaning bitterly because, as he said, he was seized with the colic. I therefore got up and gave him my place, and sat down again by the fire to cut springes, till I fell asleep for half an hour; and then morning broke, and by that time he had got better, and I woke the people to morning prayer. This time old Paasch had to say it, but could not get through with it properly, so that I had to help him. Whether he had forgot it, or whether he was frightened, I cannot say. _Summa_. After we had all prayed most devoutly, we presently set to work, wedging the springes into the trees, and hanging berries all around them; while my daughter took care of the children, and looked for blackberries for their breakfast. Now we wedged the snares right across the wood along the road to Uekeritze; and mark what a wondrous act of mercy befell from gracious God! As I stepped into the road with the hatchet in my hand (it was Seden his hatchet, which he had fetched out of the village early in the morning), I caught sight of a loaf as long as my arm, which a raven was pecking, and which doubtless one of the Imperial troopers had dropped out of his knapsack the day before, for there were fresh hoofmarks in the sand by it. So I secretly buttoned the breast of my coat over it, so that none should perceive anything, although the aforesaid Paasch was close behind me; _item_, all the rest followed at no great distance. Now, having set the springes so very early, towards noon we found such a great number of birds taken in them that Katy Berow, who went beside me while I took them out, scarce could hold them all in her apron; and at the other end old Pagels pulled nearly as many out of his doublet and coat pockets. My daughter then sat down with the rest of the womankind to pluck the birds; and as there was no salt (indeed it was long since most of us had tasted any), she desired two men to go down to the sea, and to fetch a little salt-water in an iron pot borrowed from Staffer Zuter; and so they did. In this water we first dipped the birds, and then roasted them at a large fire, while our mouths watered only at the sweet savour of them, seeing it was so long since we had tasted any food. And now when all was ready, and the people seated on the earth, I said, "Behold how the Lord still feeds his people Israel in the wilderness with fresh quails: if now he did yet more, and sent us a piece of manna bread from heaven, what think ye? Would ye then ever weary of believing in him, and not rather willingly endure all want, tribulation, hunger and thirst, which he may hereafter lay upon you according to his gracious will?" Whereupon they all answered and said, "Yea, surely!" _Ego_: "Will you then promise me this in truth?" And they said again, "Yea, that will we!" Then with tears I drew forth the loaf from my breast, held it on high, and cried, "Behold, then, thou poor believing little flock, how sweet a manna loaf your faithful Redeemer hath sent ye through me!" Whereupon they all wept, sobbed and groaned; and the little children again came running up and held out their hands, crying, "See, bread, bread!" But as I myself could not pray for heaviness of soul, I bade Paasch his little girl say the _Gratias_ the while my Mary cut up the loaf and gave to each his share. And now we all joyfully began to eat our meat from God in the wilderness. Meanwhile I had to tell in what manner I had found the blessed manna bread, wherein I neglected not again to exhort them to lay to heart this great sign and wonder, how that God in his mercy had done to them as of old to the prophet Elijah, to whom a raven brought bread in his great need in the wilderness; as likewise this bread had been given to me by means of a raven, which showed it to me, when otherwise I might have passed it by in my heaviness without ever seeing it. When we were satisfied with food, I said the thanksgiving from Luke xii. 24, where the Lord saith, "Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?" But our sins stank before the Lord. For old Lizzie, as I afterwards heard, would not eat her birds because she thought them unsavoury, but threw them among the juniper-bushes; whereupon the wrath of the Lord was kindled against us as of old against the people of Israel, and at night we found but seven birds in the snares, and next morning but two. Neither did any raven come again to give us bread. Wherefore I rebuked old Lizzie, and admonished the people to take upon themselves willingly the righteous chastisement of the Most High God, to pray without ceasing, to return to their desolate dwellings, and to see whether the all-merciful God would peradventure give them more on the sea. That I also would call upon him with prayer night and day, remaining for a time in the cavern with my daughter and the maid to watch the springes, and see whether his wrath might be turned from us. That they should meanwhile put my manse to rights to the best of their power, seeing that the cold was become very irksome to me. This they promised me, and departed with many sighs. What a little flock! I counted but twenty-five souls where there used to be above eighty: all the rest had been slain by hunger, pestilence, or the sword. I then abode a while alone and sorrowing in the cave, praying to God, and sent my daughter with the maid into the village to see how things stood at the manse; _item_, to gather together the books and papers, and also to bring me word whether Hinze the carpenter, whom I had straightway sent back to the village, had knocked together some coffins for the poor corpses, so that I might bury them next day. I then went to look at the springes, but found only one single little bird, whereby I saw that the wrath of God had not yet passed away. Howbeit, I found a fine blackberry bush, from which I gathered nearly a pint of berries, and put them, together with the bird, in Staffer Zuter his pot, which the honest fellow had left with us for a while, and set them on the fire for supper against my child and the maid should return. It was not long before they came through the coppice and told me of the fearful devastation which Satan had made in the village and manse by the permission of all-righteous God. My child had gathered together a few books, which she brought with her, above all, a _Virgilius_ and a Greek Bible. And after she had told me that the carpenter would not have done till next day, and we had satisfied the cravings of hunger, I made her read to me again, for the greater strengthening of my faith, the _locus_ about the blessed raven from the Greek of Luke, at the twelfth chapter; also, the beautiful _locus parallelus_, Matt. vi. After which the maid said the evening blessing, and we all went into the cave to rest for the night. When I awoke next morning, just as the blessed sun rose out the sea and peeped over the mountain, I heard my poor hungry child already standing outside the cave reciting the beautiful verses about the joys of paradise which St. Augustine wrote and I had taught her. She sobbed for grief as she spoke the words:-- Uno pane vivunt cives utriusque patriae; Avidi et semper pleni, quod habent desiderant. Non sacietas fastidit, neque fames cruciat; Inhiantes semper edunt, et edentes inhiant. Flos perpetuus rosarum ver agit perpetuum; Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum, Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt; Pigmentorum spirat odor liquor et aromatum, Pendent poma floridorum non lapsura nemorum. Non alternat luna vices, sol vel cursus syderum. Agnus est faelicis urbis lumen inocciduum. At these words my own heart was melted; and when she ceased from speaking, I asked, "What art thou doing, my child?" Whereupon she answered, "Father, I am eating." Thereat my tears now indeed began to flow, and I praised her for feeding her soul, as she had no meat for her body. I had not, however, spoken long, before she cried to me to come and look at the great wonder that had risen out of the sea, and already appeared over the cave. For behold a cloud, in shape just like a cross, came over us, and let great heavy drops, as big or bigger than large peas, fall on our heads, after which it sank behind the coppice. I presently arose and ran up the mountain with my daughter to look after it. It floated on towards the Achterwater, where it spread itself out into a long blue streak, whereon the sun shone so brightly that it seemed like a golden bridge on which, as my child said, the blessed angels danced. I fell on my knees with her and thanked the Lord that our cross had passed away from us; but, alas! our cross was yet to come, as will be told hereafter. _The Eighth Chapter_ HOW OUR NEED WAXED SORER AND SORER, AND HOW I SENT OLD ILSE WITH ANOTHER LETTER TO PUDGLA, AND HOW HEAVY A MISFORTUNE THIS BROUGHT UPON ME Next day, when I had buried the poor corpses amid the lamentations of the whole village (by the same token that they were all buried under where the lime-tree overhangs the wall), I heard with many sighs that neither the sea nor the Achterwater would yield anything. It was now ten days since the poor people had caught a single fish. I therefore went out into the field, musing how the wrath of the just God might be turned from us, seeing that the cruel winter was now at hand, and neither corn, apples, fish nor flesh to be found in the village, nor even throughout all the parish. There was indeed plenty of game in the forests of Coserow and Uekeritze; but the old forest ranger, Zabel Nehring, had died last year of the plague, and there was no new one in his place. Nor was there a musket nor a grain of powder to be found in all the parish; the enemy had robbed and broken everything: we were therefore forced, day after day, to see how the stags and the roes, the hares and the wild boars, _et cet_., ran past us, when we would so gladly have had them in our bellies, but had no means of getting at them: for they were too cunning to let themselves be caught in pit-falls. Nevertheless, Claus Peer succeeded in trapping a roe, and gave me a piece of it, for which may God reward him. _Item_, of domestic cattle there was not a head left; neither was there a dog, nor a cat, which the people had not either eaten in their extreme hunger, or knocked on the head or drowned long since. Albeit old farmer Paasch still owned two cows; _item_, an old man in Uekeritze was said to have one little pig:--this was all. Thus, then, nearly all the people lived on blackberries and other wild fruits: the which also soon grew to be scarce, as may easily be guessed. Besides all this, a boy of fourteen was missing (old Labahn his son) and was never more heard of, so that I shrewdly think that the wolves devoured him. And now let any Christian judge by his own heart in what sorrow and heaviness I took my staff in my hand, seeing that my child fell away like a shadow from pinching hunger; although I myself, being old, did not, by the help of God's mercy, find any great failing in my strength. While I thus went continually weeping before the Lord, on the way to Uekeritze, I fell in with an old beggar with his wallet, sitting on a stone, and eating a piece of God's rare gift, to wit, a bit of bread. Then truly did my poor mouth so fill with water that I was forced to bow my head and let it run upon the earth before I could ask, "Who art thou? and whence comest thou? seeing that thou hast bread." Whereupon he answered that he was a poor man of Bannemin, from whom the enemy had taken all; and as he had heard that the Lieper Winkel had long been in peace, he had travelled thither to beg. I straightway answered him, "Oh, poor beggar-man, spare to me, a sorrowful servant of Christ, who is poorer even than thyself, one little slice of bread for his wretched child; for thou must know that I am the pastor of this village, and that my daughter is dying of hunger. I beseech thee by the living God not to let me depart without taking pity on me, as pity also hath been shown to thee!" But the beggar-man would give me none, saying that he himself had a wife and four children, who were likewise staggering towards death's door under the bitter pangs of hunger; that the famine was sorer far in Bannemin than here, where we still had berries; whether I had not heard that but a few days ago a woman (he told me her name, but horror made me forget it) had there killed her own child, and devoured it from hunger? That he could not therefore help me, and I might go to the Lieper Winkel myself. I was horror-stricken at his tale, as is easy to guess, for we in our own trouble had not yet heard of it, there being little or no traffic between one village and another; and thinking on Jerusalem, and sheer despairing because the Lord had visited us, as of old that ungodly city, although we had not betrayed or crucified him, I almost forgot all my necessities, and took my staff in my hand to depart. But I had not gone more than a few yards when the beggar called me to stop, and when I turned myself round he came towards me with a good hunch of bread which he had taken out of his wallet, and said, "There! but pray for me also, so that I may reach my home; for if on the road they smell that I have bread, my own brother would strike me dead, I believe." This I promised with joy, and instantly turned back to take to my child the gift hidden in my pocket. And behold, when I came to the road which leads to Loddin, I could scarce trust my eyes (before I had overlooked it in my distress) when I saw my glebe, which could produce seven bushels, ploughed, sown, and in stalk; the blessed crop of rye had already shot lustily out of the earth a finger's length in height. I could not choose but think that the Evil One had deceived me with a false show, yet, however hard I rubbed my eyes, rye it was and rye it remained. And seeing that old Paasch his piece of land which joined mine was in like manner sown, and that the blades had shot up to the same height, I soon guessed that the good fellow had done this deed, seeing that all the other land lay waste. Wherefore, I readily forgave him for not knowing the morning prayer; and thanking the Lord for so much love from my flock, and earnestly beseeching him to grant me strength and faith to bear with them steadfastly and patiently all the troubles and adversities which it might please him henceforward to lay upon us, according to his divine pleasure, I ran rather than walked back into the village to old Paasch his farm, where I found him just about to kill his cow, which he was slaughtering from grim hunger. "God bless thee," said I, "worthy friend, for sowing my field; how shall I reward thee?" But the old man answered, "Let that be, and do you pray for us"; and when I gladly promised this and asked him how he had kept his corn safe from the savage enemy, he told me that he had hidden it secretly in the caves of the Streckelberg, but that now all his store was used up. Meanwhile he cut a fine large piece of meat from the top of the loin, and said, "There is something for you, and when that is gone you can come again for more." As I was then about to go with many thanks, his little Mary, a child nearly seven years old, the same who had said the _Gratias_ on the Streckelberg, seized me by the hand and wanted to go to school to my daughter; for since my _Custos_, as above mentioned, departed this life in the plague, she had to teach the few little ones there were in the village; this, however, had long been abandoned. I could not, therefore, deny her, although I feared that my child would share her bread with her, seeing that she dearly loved the little maid, who was her godchild; and so indeed it happened; for when the child saw me take out the bread, she shrieked for joy, and began to scramble up on the bench. Thus she also got a piece of the slice, our maid got another, and my child put the third piece into her own mouth, as I wished for none, but said that I felt no signs of hunger and would wait until the meat was boiled, the which I now threw upon the bench. It was a goodly sight to see the joy which my poor child felt when I then also told her about the rye. She fell upon my neck, wept, sobbed, then took the little one up in her arms, danced about the room with her, and recited as she was wont, all manner of Latin _versus_, which she knew by heart. Then she would prepare a right good supper for us, as a little salt was still left in the bottom of a barrel of meat which the Imperialists had broken up. I let her take her own way, and having scraped some soot from the chimney and mixed it with water, I tore a blank leaf out of _Virgilius_, and wrote to the _Pastor Liepensis_, his reverence Abraham Tiburtius, praying that for God his sake he would take our necessities to heart, and would exhort his parishioners to save us from dying of grim hunger, and charitably to spare to us some meat and drink, according as the all-merciful God had still left some to them, seeing that a beggar had told me that they had long been in peace from the terrible enemy. I knew not, however, wherewithal to seal the letter, until I found in the church a little wax still sticking to a wooden altar-candlestick, which the Imperialists had not thought it worth their while to steal, for they had only taken the brass ones. I sent three fellows in a boat with Hinrich Seden, the churchwarden, with this letter to Liepe. First, however, I asked my old Ilse, who was born in Liepe, whether she would not rather return home, seeing how matters stood, and that I, for the present at least, could not give her a stiver of her wages (mark that she had already saved up a small sum, seeing that she had lived in my service above twenty years, but the soldiers had taken it all). Howbeit, I could nowise persuade her to this, but she wept bitterly, and besought me only to let her stay with the good damsel whom she had rocked in her cradle. She would cheerfully hunger with us if it needs must be, so that she were not turned away. Whereupon I yielded to her, and the others went alone. Meanwhile the broth was ready, but scarce had we said the _Gratias_, and were about to begin our meal, when all the children of the village, seven in number, came to the door, and wanted bread, as they had heard we had some from my daughter her little godchild. Her heart again melted, and notwithstanding I besought her to harden herself against them, she comforted me with the message to Liepe, and poured out for each child a portion of broth on a wooden platter (for these also had been despised by the enemy), and put into their little hands a bit of meat, so that all our store was eaten up at once. We were, therefore, left fasting next morning, till towards mid-day, when the whole village gathered together in a meadow on the banks of the river to see the boat return. But, God be merciful to us, we had cherished vain hopes! six loaves and a sheep, _item_, a quarter of apples, was all they had brought. His reverence Abraham Tiburtius wrote to me that after the cry of their wealth had spread throughout the island, so many beggars had flocked thither that it was impossible to be just to all, seeing that they themselves did not know how it might fare with them in these heavy troublous times. Meanwhile he would see whether he could raise any more. I therefore with many sighs had the small pittance carried to the manse, and though two loaves were, as _Pastor Liepensis_ said in his letter, for me alone, I gave them up to be shared among all alike, whereat all were content save Seden his squint-eyed wife, who would have had somewhat _extra_ on the score of her husband's journey, which, however, as may be easily guessed, she did not get; wherefore she again muttered certain words between her teeth as she went away, which, however, no one understood. Truly she was an ill woman, and not to be moved by the word of God. Any one may judge for himself that such a store could not last long; and as all my parishioners felt an ardent longing after spiritual food, and as I and the churchwardens could only get together about sixteen farthings in the whole parish, which was not enough to buy bread and wine, the thought struck me once more to inform my lord the Sheriff of our need. With how heavy a heart I did this may be easily guessed, but necessity knows no law. I therefore tore the last blank leaf out of _Virgilius_, and begged that, for the sake of the Holy Trinity, his lordship would mercifully consider mine own distress and that of the whole parish, and bestow a little money to enable me to administer the holy sacrament for the comfort of afflicted souls; also, if possible, to buy a cup, were it only of tin, since the enemy had plundered us of ours, and I should otherwise be forced to consecrate the sacred elements in an earthen vessel. _Item_, I besought him to have pity on our bodily wants, and at last to send me the first-fruits which had stood over for so many years. That I did not want it for myself alone, but would willingly share it with my parishioners, until such time as God in his mercy should give us more. Here a huge blot fell upon my paper; for the windows being boarded up, the room was dark, and but little light came through two small panes of glass which I had broken out of the church, and stuck in between the boards; this, perhaps, was the reason why I did not see better. However, as I could not anywhere get another piece of paper, I let it pass, and ordered the maid, whom I sent with the letter to Pudgla, to excuse the same to his lordship the Sheriff, the which she promised to do, seeing that I could not add a word more on the paper, as it was written all over. I then sealed it as I had done before. But the poor creature came back trembling for fear and bitterly weeping, and said that his lordship had kicked her out of the castle-gate, and had threatened to set her in the stocks if she ever came before him again. "Did the parson think that he was as free with his money as I seemed to be with my ink? I surely had water enough to celebrate the Lord's supper wherewithal. For if the Son of God had once changed the water into wine, he could surely do the like again. If I had no cup, I might water my flock out of a bucket, as he did himself"; with many more blasphemies, such as he afterwards wrote to me, and by which, as may easily be guessed, I was filled with horror. Touching the first-fruits, as she told me he said nothing at all. In such great spiritual and bodily need the blessed Sunday came round, when nearly all the congregation would have come to the Lord's table, but could not. I therefore spoke on the words of St. Augustine, _crede et manducasti_, and represented that the blame was not mine, and truly told what had happened to my poor maid at Pudgla, passing over much in silence, and only praying God to awaken the hearts of magistrates for our good. Peradventure I may have spoken more harshly than I meant. I know not, only that I spoke that which was in my heart. At the end I made all the congregation stay on their knees for nearly an hour, and call upon the Lord for his holy sacrament; _item_, for the relief of their bodily wants, as had been done every Sunday, and at all the daily prayers I had been used to read ever since the heavy time of the plague. Last of all I led the glorious hymn, "When in greatest need we be," which was no sooner finished than my new churchwarden, Claus Bulk of Uekeritze, who had formerly been a groom with his lordship, and whom he had now put into a farm, ran off to Pudgla, and told him all that had taken place in the church. Whereat his lordship was greatly angered, insomuch that he summoned the whole parish, which still numbered about 150 souls, without counting the children, and dictated _ad protocollum_ whatsoever they could remember of the sermon, seeing that he meant to inform his princely grace the Duke of Pomerania of the blasphemous lies which I had vomited against him, and which must sorely offend every Christian heart. _Item_, what an avaricious wretch I must be to be always wanting something of him, and to be daily, so to say, pestering him in these hard times with my filthy letters, when he had not enough to eat himself. This he said should break the parson his neck, since his princely grace did all that he asked of him, and that no one in the parish need give me anything more, but only let me go my ways. He would soon take care that they should have quite a different sort of parson from what I was. (Now I would like to see the man who could make up his mind to come into the midst of such wretchedness at all.) This news was brought to me in the selfsame night, and gave me a great fright, as I now saw that I should not have a gracious master in his lordship, but should all the time of my miserable life, even if I could anyhow support it, find in him an ungracious lord. But I soon felt some comfort, when Chim Krüger from Uekeritze, who brought me the news, took a little bit of his sucking-pig out of his pocket and gave it to me. Meanwhile old Paasch came in and said the same, and likewise brought me a piece of his old cow; _item_, my other warden, Hinrich Seden, with a slice of bread, and a fish which he had taken in his net, all saying they wished for no better priest than me, and that I was only to pray to the merciful Lord to bestow more upon them, whereupon I should want for nothing. Meanwhile I must be quiet and not betray them. All this I promised, and my daughter Mary took the blessed gifts of God off the table and carried them into the inner chamber. But, alas! next morning, when she would have put the meat into the caldron, it was all gone. I know not who prepared this new sorrow for me, but much believe it was Hinrich Seden his wicked wife, seeing he can never hold his tongue, and most likely told her everything. Moreover, Paasch his little daughter saw that she had meat in her pot next day; _item_, that she had quarrelled with her husband, and had flung the fish-board at him, whereon some fresh fish-scales were sticking: she had, however, presently recollected herself when she saw the child. (Shame on thee, thou old witch, it is true enough, I dare say!) Hereupon nought was left us but to feed our poor souls with the word of God. But even our souls were so cast down that they could receive nought, any more than our bellies; my poor child, especially, from day to day grew paler, greyer, and yellower, and always threw up all her food, seeing she ate it without salt or bread. I had long wondered that the bread from Liepe was not yet done, but that every day at dinner I still had a morsel. I had often asked, "Whence comes all this blessed bread? I believe, after all, you save the whole for me, and take none for yourself or the maid." But they both then lifted to their mouths a piece of fir-tree bark, which they had cut to look like bread, and laid by their plates; and as the room was dark, I did not find out their deceit, but thought that they, too, were eating bread. But at last the maid told me of it, so that I should allow it no longer, as my daughter would not listen to her. It is not hard to guess how my heart was wrung when I saw my poor child lying on her bed of moss struggling with grim hunger. But things were to go yet harder with me, for the Lord in his anger would break me in pieces like a potter's vessel. For behold, on the evening of the same day, old Paasch came running to me, complaining that all his and my corn in the field had been pulled up and miserably destroyed, and that it must have been done by Satan himself, as there was not a trace either of oxen or horses. At these words my poor child screamed aloud and fainted. I would have run to help her, but could not reach her bed, and fell on the ground myself for bitter grief. The loud cries of the maid and old Paasch soon brought us both to our senses. But I could not rise from the ground alone, for the Lord had bruised all my bones. I besought them, therefore, when they would have helped me, to leave me where I was; and when they would not, I cried out that I must again fall on the ground to pray, and begged them all save my daughter to depart out of the room. This they did, but the prayer would not come. I fell into heavy doubting and despair, and murmured against the Lord that he plagued me more sorely than Lazarus or Job. Wretch that I was, I cried, "Thou didst leave to Lazarus at least the crumbs and the pitiful dogs, but to me thou hast left nothing, and I myself am less in thy sight even than a dog; and Job thou didst not afflict until thou hadst mercifully taken away his children, but to me thou hast left my poor little daughter, that her torments may increase mine own a thousandfold. Behold, then, I can only pray that thou wilt take her from the earth, so that my grey head may gladly follow her to the grave! Woe is me, ruthless father, what have I done? I have eaten bread, and suffered my child to hunger! Oh, Lord Jesu, who hast said, 'What man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread will he give him a stone?' Behold I am that man!--behold I am that ruthless father! I have eaten bread and have given wood to my child! Punish me; I will bear it and lie still. Oh, righteous Jesu, I have eaten bread, and have given wood to my child!" As I did not speak, but rather shrieked these words, wringing my hands the while, my child fell upon my neck, sobbing, and chid me for murmuring against the Lord, seeing that even she, a weak and frail woman, had never doubted his mercy, so that with shame and repentance I presently came to myself, and humbled myself before the Lord for such heavy sin. Meanwhile the maid had run into the village with loud cries to see if she could get anything for her poor young mistress, but the people had already eaten their noontide meal, and most of them were gone to sea to seek their blessed supper; thus she could find nothing, seeing that old wife Seden, who alone had any victuals, would give her none, although she prayed her by Jesu's wounds. She was telling us this when we heard a noise in the chamber, and presently Lizzie her worthy old husband, who had got in at the window by stealth, brought us a pot of good broth, which he had taken off the fire whilst his wife was gone for a moment into the garden. He well knew that his wife would make him pay for it, but that he did not mind, so the young mistress would but drink it, and she would find it salted and all. He would make haste out of the window again, and see that he got home before his wife, that she might not find out where he had been. But my daughter would not touch the broth, which sorely vexed him, so that he set it down on the ground cursing, and ran out of the room. It was not long before his squint-eyed wife came in at the front door, and when she saw the pot still steaming on the ground, she cried out, "Thou thief, thou cursed thieving carcass!" and would have flown at the face of my maid. But I threatened her, and told her all that had happened, and that if she would not believe me she might go into the chamber and look out of the window, whence she might still, belike, see her good man running home. This she did, and presently we heard her calling after him, "Wait, and the devil shall tear off thine arms; only wait till thou art home again!" After this she came back, and, muttering something, took the pot off the ground. I begged her, for the love of God, to spare a little to my child; but she mocked at me and said, "You can preach to her, as you did to me," and walked towards the door with the pot. My child indeed besought me to let her go, but I could not help calling after her, "For the love of God, one good sup, or my poor child must give up the ghost: wilt thou that at the day of judgment God should have mercy on thee, so show mercy this day to me and mine!" But she scoffed at us again, and cried out, "Let her cook herself some bacon," and went out at the door. I then sent the maid after her with the hour-glass which stood before me on the table, to offer it to her for a good sup out of the pot; but the maid brought it back, saying that she would not have it. Alas, how I wept and sobbed, as my poor dying child with a loud sigh buried her head again in the moss! Yet the merciful God was more gracious to me than my unbelief had deserved; for when the hard-hearted woman bestowed a little broth on her neighbour, old Paasch, he presently brought it to my child, having heard from the maid how it stood with her; and I believe that this broth, under God, alone saved her life, for she raised her head as soon as she had supped it, and was able to go about the house again in an hour. May God reward the good fellow for it! Thus I had some joy in the midst of my trouble. But while I sat by the fireside in the evening musing on my fate, my grief again broke forth, and I made up my mind to leave my house, and even my cure, and to wander through the wide world with my daughter as a beggar. God knows I had cause enough for it; for now that all my hopes were dashed, seeing that my field was quite ruined, and that the Sheriff had become my bitter enemy; moreover, that it was five years since I had had a wedding, _item_, but two christenings during the past year, I saw my own and my daughter's death staring me in the face, and no prospect of better times at hand. Our want was increased by the great fears of the congregation; for although by God's wondrous mercy they had already begun to take good draughts of fish both in the sea and the Achterwater, and many of the people in the other villages had already gotten bread, salt, oatmeal, etc., from the Polters and Quatzners, of Anklam and Lassan in exchange for their fish; nevertheless, they brought me nothing, fearing lest it might be told at Pudgla, and make his lordship ungracious to them. I therefore beckoned my daughter to me, and told her what was in my thoughts, saying that God in his mercy could any day bestow on me another cure if I was found worthy in his sight of such a favour, seeing that these terrible days of pestilence and war had called away many of the servants of his word, and that I had not fled like a hireling from his flock, but on the contrary, till _datum_ shared sorrow and death with it. Whether she were able to walk five or ten miles a day; for that then we would beg our way to Hamburg, to my departed wife her step-brother, Martin Behring, who is a great merchant in that city. This at first sounded strange to her, seeing that she had very seldom been out of our parish, and that her departed mother and her little brother lay in our churchyard. She asked, "Who was to make up their graves and plant flowers on them? _Item_, as the Lord had given her a smooth face, what I should do if in these wild and cruel times she were attacked on the highways by marauding soldiers or other villains, seeing that I was a weak old man and unable to defend her; _item_, wherewithal should we shield ourselves from the frost, as the winter was setting in and the enemy had robbed us of our clothes, so that we had scarce enough left to cover our nakedness?" All this I had not considered, and was forced to own that she was right; so after much discussion we determined to leave it this night to the Lord, and to do whatever he should put into our hearts next morning. At any rate, we saw that we could in nowise keep the old maid any longer; I therefore called her out of the kitchen, and told her she had better go early next morning to Liepe, as there still was food there, whereas here she must starve, seeing that perhaps we ourselves might leave the parish and the country to-morrow. I thanked her for the love and faith she had shown us, and begged her at last, amid the loud sobs of my poor daughter, to depart forthwith privately, and not to make our hearts still heavier by leave-taking; that old Paasch was going a-fishing to-night on the Achterwater, as he had told me, and no doubt would readily set her on shore at Grüssow, where she had friends, and could eat her fill even to-day. She could not say a word for weeping, but when she saw that I was really in earnest she went out of the room. Not long after we heard the house-door shut to, whereupon my daughter moaned, "She is gone already," and ran straight to the window to look after her. "Yes," cried she, as she saw her through the little panes, "she is really gone"; and she wrung her hands and would not be comforted. At last, however, she was quieted when I spoke of the maid Hagar, whom Abraham had likewise cast off, but on whom the Lord had nevertheless shown mercy in the wilderness; and hereupon we commended ourselves to the Lord, and stretched ourselves on our couches of moss. _The Ninth Chapter_ HOW THE OLD MAID-SERVANT HUMBLED ME BY HER FAITH, AND THE LORD YET BLESSED ME HIS UNWORTHY SERVANT "Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits. Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving kindness and tender mercies" (Psalm ciii.). Alas! wretched man that I am, how shall I understand all the benefits and mercies which the Lord bestowed upon me the very next day? I now wept for joy, as of late I had done for sorrow; and my child danced about the room like a young roe, and would not go to bed, but only cry and dance, and between-whiles repeat the 103rd Psalm, then dance and cry again until morning broke. But as she was still very weak, I rebuked her presumption, seeing that this was tempting the Lord; and now mark what had happened. After we had both woke in the morning with deep sighs, and called upon the Lord to manifest to us in our hearts what we should do, we still could not make up our minds. I therefore called to my child, if she felt strong enough, to leave her bed and light a fire in the stove herself, as our maid was gone; that we would then consider the matter further. She accordingly got up, but came back in an instant with cries of joy, because the maid had privately stolen back into the house, and had already made a fire. Hereupon I sent for her to my bedside, and wondered at her disobedience, and asked what she now wanted here but to torment me and my daughter still more, and why she did not go yesterday with old Paasch? But she lamented and wept so sore that she scarce could speak, and I understood only thus much--that she had eaten with us, and would likewise starve with us, for that she could never part from her young mistress, whom she had known from her cradle. Such faithful love moved me so, that I said almost with tears, "But hast thou not heard that my daughter and I have determined to wander as beggars about the country; where, then, wilt thou remain?" To this she answered that neither would she stay behind, seeing it was more fitting for her to beg than for us; but that she could not yet see why I wished to go out into the wide world; whether I had already forgotten that I had said in my induction sermon that I would abide with my flock in affliction and in death? That I should stay yet a little longer where I was, and send her to Liepe, as she hoped to get something worth having for us there from her friends and others. These words, especially those about my induction sermon, fell heavy on my conscience, and I was ashamed of my want of faith, since not my daughter only, but yet more even my maid, had stronger faith than I, who nevertheless professed to be a servant of God's word. I believed that the Lord--to keep me, poor fearful hireling, and at the same time to humble me--had awakened the spirit of this poor maid-servant to prove me, as the maid in the palace of the high-priest had also proved the fearful St. Peter. Wherefore I turned my face towards the wall, like Hezekiah, and humbled myself before the Lord, which scarce had I done before my child ran into the room again, with a cry of joy; for behold, some Christian heart had stolen quietly into the house in the night, and had laid in the chamber two loaves, a good piece of meat, a bag of oatmeal, _item_, a bag of salt, holding near a pint. Any one may guess what shouts of joy we all raised. Neither was I ashamed to confess my sins before my maid; and in our common morning prayer, which we said on our knees, I made fresh vows to the Lord of obedience and faith. Thus we had that morning a grand breakfast, and sent something to old Paasch besides; _item_, my daughter again sent for all the little children to come, and kindly fed them with our store before they said their tasks; and when in my heart of little faith I sighed thereat, although I said nought, she smiled, and said, "Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." The Holy Ghost spoke by her, as I cannot but believe, nor thou either, beloved reader: for mark what happened. In the afternoon she (I mean my child) went up the Streckelberg to seek for blackberries, as old Paasch had told her, through the maid, that a few bushes were still left. The maid was chopping wood in the yard, to which end she had borrowed old Paasch his axe, for the Imperialist thieves had thrown away mine, so that it could nowhere be found; and I myself was pacing up and down in the room, meditating my sermon; when my child, with her apron full, came quickly in at the door, quite red and with beaming eyes, and scarce able for joy to say more than "Father, father, what have I got?" "Well," quoth I, "what hast thou got, my child?" Whereupon she opened her apron, and I scarce trusted my eyes when I saw, instead of the blackberries which she had gone to seek, two shining pieces of amber, each nearly as big as a man's head, not to mention the small pieces, some of which were as large as my hand, and that, God knows, is no small one. "Child of my heart," cried I, "how camest thou by this blessing from God?" As soon as she could fetch her breath, she told me as follows:-- That while she was seeking for blackberries in a dell near the shore she saw somewhat glistening in the sun, and on coming near she found this wondrous godsend, seeing that the wind had blown the sand away from off a black vein of amber. That she straightway had broken off these pieces with a stick, and that there was plenty more to be got, seeing that it rattled about under the stick when she thrust it into the sand, neither could she force it farther than, at most, a foot deep into the ground; _item,_ she told me that she had covered the place all over again with sand, and swept it smooth with her apron, so as to leave no traces. Moreover, that no stranger was at all likely to go thither, seeing that no blackberries grew very near, and she had gone to the spot, moved by curiosity and a wish to look upon the sea, rather than from any need; but that she could easily find the place again herself, inasmuch as she had marked it with three little stones. What was our first act after the all-merciful God had rescued us out of such misery, nay, even, as it seemed, endowed us with great riches, any one may guess. When we at length got up off our knees, my child would straightway have run to tell the maid our joyful news. But I forbade her, seeing that we could not be sure that the maid might not tell it again to her friends, albeit in all other things she was a faithful woman and feared God; but that if she did that, the Sheriff would be sure to hear of it, and to seize upon our treasure for his princely highness the Duke--that is to say, for himself; and that nought would be left to us but the sight thereof, and our want would begin all over again; that we therefore would say, when folks asked about the luck that had befallen us, that my deceased brother, who was a councillor at Rotterdam, had left us a good lump of money; and, indeed, it was true that I had inherited near two hundred florins from him a year ago, which, however, the soldiery (as mentioned above) cruelly robbed me of; _item,_ that I would go to Wolgast myself next day and sell the little bits as best I might, saying that thou hadst picked them up by the seaside; thou mayest tell the maid the same, if thou wilt, but show the larger pieces to no one, and I will send them to thy uncle at Hamburg to be turned into money for us; perchance I may be able to sell one of them at Wolgast, if I find occasion, so as to buy clothes enough for the winter for thee and for me, wherefore thou, too, mayst go with me. We will take the few farthings which the congregation have brought together to pay the ferry, and thou canst order the maid to wait for us till eventide at the water-side to carry home the victuals. She agreed to all this, but said we had better first break off some more amber, so that we might get a good round sum for it at Hamburg; and I thought so too, wherefore we stopped at home next day, seeing that we did not want for food, and that my child, as well as myself, both wished to refresh ourselves a little before we set out on our journey; _item_, we likewise bethought us that old Master Rothoog, of Loddin, who is a cabinetmaker, might knock together a little box for us to put the amber in, wherefore I sent the maid to him in the afternoon. Meanwhile we ourselves went up the Streckelberg, where I cut a young fir-tree with my pocket-knife, which I had saved from the enemy, and shaped it like a spade, so that I might be better able to dig deep therewith. First, however, we looked about us well on the mountain, and, seeing nobody, my daughter walked on to the place, which she straightway found again. Great God! what a mass of amber was there! The vein was hard upon twenty feet long, as near as I could feel, and the depth of it I could not sound. Nevertheless, save four good-sized pieces, none, however, so big as those of yesterday, we this day only broke out little splinters, such as the apothecaries bruise for incense. After we had most carefully covered and smoothed over the place, a great mishap was very near befalling us; for we met Witthan her little girl, who was seeking blackberries, and she asked what my daughter carried in her apron, who straightway grew red, and stammered so that our secret would have been betrayed if I had not presently said, "What is that to thee? She has got fir-apples for firing," which the child believed. Wherefore we resolved in future only to go up the mountain at night by moonlight, and we went home and got there before the maid, and hid our treasure in the bedstead, so that she should not see it. _The Tenth Chapter_ HOW WE JOURNEYED TO WOLGAST, AND MADE GOOD BARTER THERE Two days after, so says my daughter, but old Ilse thinks it was three (and I myself know not which is true), we at last went to the town, seeing that Master Rothoog had not got the box ready before. My daughter covered it over with a piece of my departed wife her wedding-gown, which the Imperialists had indeed torn to pieces, but as they had left it lying outside, the wind had blown it into the orchard, where we found it. It was very shabby before, otherwise I doubt not they would have carried it off with them. On account of the box, we took old Ilse with us, who had to carry it, and, as amber is very light ware, she readily believed that the box held nothing but eatables. At daybreak, then, we took our staves in our hands and set out with God. Near Zitze, a hare ran across the road before us, which they say bodes no good. Well-a-day! When we came near Bannemin I asked a fellow if it was true that here a mother had slaughtered her own child from hunger, as I had heard. He said it was, and that the old woman's name was Zisse; but that God had been wroth at such a horrid deed, and she had got no good by it, seeing that she vomited so much upon eating it that she forthwith gave up the ghost. On the whole, he thought things were already going rather better with the parish, as Almighty God had richly blessed them with fish, both out of the sea and the Achterwater. Nevertheless a great number of people had died of hunger here also. He told us that their vicar, his reverence Johannes Lampius, had had his house burnt down by the Imperialists, and was lying in a hovel near the church. I sent him my greeting, desiring that he would soon come to visit me (which the fellow promised he would take care to deliver to him), for the reverend Johannes is a pious and learned man, and has also composed sundry Latin _Chronosticha_ on these wretched times, in _metrum heroicum_, which, I must say, please me greatly. When we had crossed the ferry we went in at Sehms his house, on the Castle Green, who keeps an ale-house; he told us that the pestilence had not yet altogether ceased in the town; whereat I was much afraid, more especially as he described to us so many other horrors and miseries of these fearful times, both here and in other places, _e.g._ of the great famine in the island of Rügen, where a number of people had grown as black as Moors from hunger; a wondrous thing if it be true, and one might almost gather therefrom how the first blackamoors came about. But be that as it may. _Summa_. When Master Sehms had told us all the news he had heard, and we had thus learnt, to our great comfort, that the Lord had not visited us only in these times of heavy need, I called him aside into a chamber and asked him whether I could not here find means to get money for a piece of amber which my daughter had found by the sea. At first he said "No"; but then recollecting, he began, "Stay, let me see, at Nicolas Graeke's, the inn at the castle, there are two great Dutch merchants--Dieterich von Pehnen and Jacob Kiekebusch--who are come to buy pitch and boards, _item_ timber for ships and beams; perchance they may like to cheapen your amber too; but you had better go up to the castle yourself, for I do not know for certain whether they still are there." This I did, although I had not yet eaten anything in the man's house, seeing that I wanted to know first what sort of bargain I might make, and to save the farthings belonging to the church until then. So I went into the castle-yard. Gracious God! what a desert had even his Princely Highness' house become within a short time! The Danes had ruined the stables and hunting-lodge, Anno 1628; _item_, destroyed several rooms in the castle; and in the _locamentum_ of his Princely Highness Duke Philippus, where, Anno 22, he so graciously entertained me and my child, as will be told further on, now dwelt the innkeeper Nicolas Graeke; and all the fair tapestries, whereon was represented the pilgrimage to Jerusalem of his Princely Highness Bogislaus X, were torn down and the walls left grey and bare. At this sight my heart was sorely grieved; but I presently inquired for the merchants, who sat at the table drinking their parting cup, with their travelling equipments already lying by them, seeing that they were just going to set out on their way to Stettin; straightway one of them jumped up from his liquor--a little fellow with a right noble paunch and a black plaster on his nose--and asked me what I would of them? I took him aside into a window, and told him I had some fine amber, if he had a mind to buy it of me, which he straightway agreed to do. And when he had whispered somewhat into the ear of his fellow, he began to look very pleasant, and reached me the pitcher before we went to my inn. I drank to him right heartily, seeing that (as I have already said) I was still fasting, so that I felt my very heart warmed by it in an instant. (Gracious God, what can go beyond a good draught of wine taken within measure!) After this we went to my inn, and told the maid to carry the box on one side into a small chamber. I had scarce opened it and taken away the gown, when the man (whose name was Dieterich von Pehnen, as he had told me by the way) held up both hands for joy, and said he had never seen such wealth of amber, and how had I come by it? I answered that my child had found it on the sea-shore; whereat he wondered greatly that we had so much amber here, and offered me three hundred florins for the whole box. I was quite beside myself for joy at such an offer, but took care not to let him see it, and bargained with him till I got five hundred florins, and I was to go with him to the castle and take the money forthwith. Hereupon I ordered mine host to make ready at once a mug of beer and a good dinner for my child, and went back to the castle with the man and the maid, who carried the box, begging him, in order to avoid common talk, to say nothing of my good fortune to mine host, nor, indeed, to any one else in the town, and to count out the money to me privately, seeing that I could not be sure that the thieves might not lay in wait for me on the road home if they heard of it, and this the man did; for he whispered something into the ear of his fellow, who straightway opened his leathern surcoat, _item_ his doublet and hose, and unbuckled from his paunch a well-filled purse, which he gave to him. _Summa_. Before long I had my riches in my pocket, and, moreover, the man begged me to write to him at Amsterdam whenever I found any more amber, the which I promised to do. But the worthy fellow (as I have since heard) died of the plague at Stettin, together with his companion--truly I wish it had happened otherwise. Shortly after I was very near getting into great trouble; for, as I had an extreme longing to fall on my knees, so that I could not wait until such time as I should have got back to my inn, I went up three or four steps of the castle stairs and entered into a small chamber, where I humbled myself before the Lord. But the host, Nicolas Graeke, followed me, thinking I was a thief, and would have stopped me, so that I knew not how to excuse myself by saying that I had been made drunken by the wine which the strange merchants had given to me (for he had seen what a good pull I had made at it), seeing I had not broken my fast that morning, and that I was looking for a chamber wherein I might sleep a while, which lie he believed (if, in truth, it were a lie, for I was really drunken, though not with wine, but with love and gratitude to my Maker), and accordingly he let me go. But I must now tell my story of his Princely Highness, as I promised above. Anno 22, as I chanced to walk with my daughter, who was then a child of about twelve years old, in the castle-garden at Wolgast, and was showing her the beautiful flowers that grew there, it chanced that as we came round from behind some bushes we espied my gracious lord the Duke Philippus Julius, with his Princely Highness the Duke Bogislaff, who lay here on a visit, standing on a mount and conversing, wherefore we were about to return. But as my gracious lords presently walked on toward the drawbridge, we went to look at the mount where they had stood; of a sudden my little girl shouted loudly for joy, seeing that she found on the earth a costly signet-ring, which one of their Princely Highnesses doubtless had dropped. I therefore said, "Come and we will follow our gracious lords with all speed, and thou shall say to them in Latin, '_Serenissimi principes, quis vestrum hunc annulum deperdidit_?' (for, as I have mentioned above, I had instructed her in the Latin tongue ever since her seventh year); and if one of them says '_Ego_,' give to him the ring. _Item_.--Should he ask thee in Latin to whom thou belongest, be not abashed, and say '_Ego sum filia pastoris Coserowiensis_'; for thou wilt thus find favour in the eyes of their Princely Highnesses, for they are both gracious gentlemen, more especially the taller one, who is our gracious ruler, Philippus Julius himself." This she promised to do; but as she trembled sorely as she went, I encouraged her yet more and promised her a new gown if she did it, seeing that even as a little child she would have given a great deal for fine clothes. As soon, then, as we were come into the courtyard, I stood by the statue of his Princely Highness Ernest Ludewig, and whispered her to run boldly after them, as their Princely Highnesses were only a few steps before us, and had already turned toward the great entrance. This she did, but of a sudden she stood still, and would have turned back, because she was frightened by the spurs of their Princely Highnesses, as she afterwards told me, seeing that they rattled and jingled very loudly. But my gracious lady the Duchess Agnes saw her from the open window wherein she lay, and called to his Princely Highness, "My lord, there is a little maiden behind you, who, it seems, would speak with you," whereupon his Princely Highness straightway turned him round, smiling pleasantly, so that my little maid presently took courage, and, holding up the ring, spoke in Latin as I had told her. Hereat both the princes wondered beyond measure, and after my gracious Duke Philippus had felt his finger, he answered, "_Dulcissima puella, ego perdidi_"; whereupon she gave it to him. Then he patted her cheek, and again asked, "_Sed quaenam es, et unde venis?_" whereupon she boldly gave her answer, and at the same time pointed with her finger to where I stood by the statue; whereupon his Princely Highness motioned me to draw near. My gracious lady saw all that passed from the window, but all at once she left it. She, however, came back to it again before I had time even humbly to draw near to my gracious lord, and beckoned to my child, and held a cake out of the window for her. On my telling her, she ran up to the window, but her Princely Highness could not reach so low nor she so high above her as to take it, wherefore my gracious lady commanded her to come up into the castle, and as she looked anxiously round after me, motioned me also, as did my gracious lord himself, who presently took the timid little maid by the hand and went up with his Princely Highness the Duke Bogislaff. My gracious lady came to meet us at the door, and caressed and embraced my little daughter, so that she soon grew quite bold and ate the cake. When my gracious lord had asked me my name, _item_, why I had in so singular a manner taught my daughter the Latin tongue, I answered that I had heard much from a cousin at Cologne of Maria Schurman, and as I had observed a very excellent _ingenium_ in my child, and also had time enough in my lonely cure, I did not hesitate to take her in hand, and teach her from her youth up, seeing I had no boy alive. Hereat their Princely Highnesses marvelled greatly, and put some more questions to her in Latin, which she answered without any prompting from me. Whereupon my gracious lord Duke Philippus said in the vulgar tongue, "When thou art grown up and art one day to be married, tell it to me, and thou shall then have another ring from me, and whatsoever else pertains to a bride, for thou hast this day done me good service, seeing that this ring is a precious jewel to me, as I had it from my wife." Hereupon I whispered her to kiss his Princely Highness' hand for such a promise, and so she did. (But alas! most gracious God, it is one thing to promise, and quite another to hold. Where is his Princely Highness at this time? Wherefore let me ever keep in mind that "thou only art faithful, and that which thou hast promised thou wilt surely hold." Psalm xxxiii. 4. Amen.) _Item_. When his Princely Highness had also inquired concerning myself and my cure, and heard that I was of ancient and noble family, and my _salarium_ very small, he called from the window to his chancellor, D. Rungius, who stood without, looking at the sun-dial, and told him that I was to have an addition from the convent at Pudgla, _item_ from the crown-lands at Ernsthoff, as I mentioned above; but, more's the pity, I never have received the same, although the _instrumentum donationis_ was sent me soon after by his Princely Highness' chancellor. Then cakes were brought for me also, _item_, a glass of foreign wine in a glass painted with armorial bearings, whereupon I humbly took my leave, together with my daughter. However, to come back to my bargain, anybody may guess what joy my child felt when I showed her the fair ducats and florins I had gotten for the amber. To the maid, however, we said that we had inherited such riches from my brother in Holland; and after we had again given thanks to the Lord on our knees, and eaten our dinner, we bought in a great store of bread, salt, meat, and stock-fish: _item_, of clothes, seeing that I provided what was needful for us three throughout the winter from the cloth-merchant. Moreover, for my daughter I bought a hair-net and a scarlet silk bodice, with a black apron and white petticoat, _item_, a fine pair of earrings, as she begged hard for them; and as soon as I had ordered the needful from the cordwainer we set out on our way homewards, as it began to grow very dark; but we could not carry nearly all we had bought. Wherefore we were forced to get a peasant from Bannemin to help us, who likewise was come into the town; and as I found out from him that the fellow who gave me the piece of bread was a poor cotter called Pantermehl, who dwelt in the village by the roadside, I shoved a couple of loaves in at his house-door without his knowing it, and we went on our way by the bright moonlight, so that by the help of God we got home about ten o'clock at night. I likewise gave a loaf to the other fellow, though truly he deserved it not, seeing that he would go with us no further than to Zitze. But I let him go, for I, too, had not deserved that the Lord should so greatly bless me. _The Eleventh Chapter_ HOW I FED ALL THE CONGREGATION: _ITEM_, HOW I JOURNEYED TO THE HORSE FAIR AT G�TZKOW, AND WHAT BEFELL ME THERE Next morning my daughter cut up the blessed bread, and sent to every one in the village a good large piece. But as we saw that our store would soon run low, we sent the maid with a truck, which we bought of Adam Lempken, to Wolgast to buy more bread, which she did. _Item_, I gave notice throughout the parish that on Sunday next I should administer the blessed sacrament, and in the meantime I bought up all the large fish that the people of the village had caught. And when the blessed Sunday was come I first heard the confessions of the whole parish, and after that I preached a sermon on Matt. xv. 32--"I have compassion on the multitude ... for they have nothing to eat." I first applied the same to spiritual food only, and there arose a great sighing from both the men and the women, when, at the end, I pointed to the altar, whereon stood the blessed food for the soul, and repeated the words, "I have compassion on the multitude ... for they have nothing to eat." (N.B.--The pewter cup I had borrowed at Wolgast, and bought there a little earthenware plate for a paten till such time as Master Bloom should have made ready the silver cup and paten I had bespoke.) Thereupon as soon as I had consecrated and administered the blessed sacrament, _item_, led the closing hymn, and every one had silently prayed his "Our Father" before going out of church, I came out of the confessional again, and motioned the people to stay yet a while, as the blessed Saviour would feed not only their souls, but their bodies also, seeing that he still had the same compassion on his people as of old on the people at the Sea of Galilee, as they should presently see. Then I went into the tower and fetched out two baskets which the maid had bought at Wolgast, and which I had hidden there in good time; set them down in front of the altar, and took off the napkins with which they were covered, whereupon a very loud shout arose, inasmuch as they saw one filled with broiled fish and the other with bread, which we had put into them privately. Hereupon, like our Saviour, I gave thanks and brake it, and gave it to the churchwarden Hinrich Seden, that he might distribute it among the men, and to my daughter for the women. Whereupon I made application of the text, "I have compassion on the multitude ... for they have nothing to eat," to the food of the body also; and walking up and down in the church, amid great outcries from all, I exhorted them alway to trust in God's mercy, to pray without ceasing, to work diligently, and to consent to no sin. What was left I made them gather up for their children and the old people who were left at home. After church, when I had scarce put off my surplice, Hinrich Seden his squint-eyed wife came and impudently asked for more for her husband's journey to Liepe; neither had she had anything for herself, seeing she had not come to church. This angered me sore, and I said to her, "Why wast thou not at church? Nevertheless, if thou hadst come humbly to me thou shouldst have gotten somewhat even now, but as thou comest impudently, I will give thee nought: think on what thou didst to me and to my child." But she stood at the door and glowered impudently about the room till my daughter took her by the arm and led her out, saying, "Hear'st thou, thou shalt come back humbly before thou gett'st anything, but when thou comest thus, thou also shalt have thy share, for we will no longer reckon with thee an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth; let the Lord do that if such be his will, but we will gladly forgive thee!" Hereupon she at last went out at the door, muttering to herself as she was wont; but she spat several times in the street, as we saw from the window. Soon after I made up my mind to take into my service a lad, near upon twenty years of age, called Claus Neels, seeing that his father, old Neels of Loddin, begged hard that I would do so, besides which the lad pleased me well in manners and otherwise. Then, as we had a good harvest this year, I resolved to buy me a couple of horses forthwith, and to sow my field again; for although it was now late in the year, I thought that the most merciful God might bless the crop with increase if it seemed good to him. Neither did I feel much care with respect to food for them, inasmuch as there was a great plenty of hay in the neighbourhood, seeing that all the cattle had been killed or driven away (as related above). I therefore made up my mind to go in God's name with my new ploughman to Gützkow, whither a great many Mecklenburg horses were brought to the fair, seeing that times were not yet so bad there as with us. Meanwhile I went a few more times up the Streckelberg with my daughter at night, and by moonlight, but found very little; so that we began to think our luck had come to an end, when, on the third night, we broke off some pieces of amber bigger even than those the two Dutchmen had bought. These I resolved to send to my wife's brother, Martin Behring, at Hamburg, seeing that the schipper Wulff of Wolgast intends, as I am told, to sail thither this very autumn, with pitch and wood for shipbuilding. I accordingly packed it all up in a strong chest, which I carried with me to Wolgast when I started with my man on my journey to Gützkow. Of this journey I will only relate thus much, that there were plenty of horses and very few buyers in the market. Wherefore I bought a pair of fine black horses for twenty florins apiece; _item_, a cart for five florins; _item_, twenty-five bushels of rye, which also came from Mecklenburg, at one florin the bushel, whereas it is hardly to be had now at Wolgast for love or money, and costs three florins or more the bushel. I might therefore have made a good bargain in rye at Gützkow if it had become my office, and had I not, moreover, been afraid lest the robbers, who swarm in these evil times, should take away my corn, and ill-use and perchance murder me into the bargain, as has happened to sundry people already. For, at this time especially, such robberies were carried on after a strange and frightful fashion on Strellin heath at Gützkow; but by God's help it all came to light just as I journeyed thither with my man-servant to the fair, and I will here tell how it happened. Some months before a man had been broken on the wheel at Gützkow, because, being tempted of Satan, he murdered a travelling workman. The man, however, straightway began to walk after so fearful a fashion, that in the evening and night-season he sprang down from the wheel in his gallows' dress whenever a cart passed by the gallows, which stands hard by the road to Wolgast, and jumped up behind the people, who in horror and dismay flogged on their horses, and thereby made a great rattling on the log embankment which leads beside the gallows into a little wood called the Kraulin. And it was a strange thing that on the same night the travellers were almost always robbed or murdered on Strellin heath. Hereupon the magistrates had the man taken down from the wheel and buried under the gallows, in hopes of laying his ghost. But it went on just as before, sitting at night snow-white on the wheel, so that none durst any longer travel the road to Wolgast. Until at last it happened that, at the time of the above-named fair, young Rüdiger von Nienkerken of Mellenthin, in Usedom, who had been studying at Wittenberg and elsewhere, and was now on his way home, came this road by night with his carriage. Just before, at the inn, I myself had tried to persuade him to stop the night at Gützkow on account of the ghost, and to go on his journey with me next morning, but he would not. Now as soon as this young lord drove along the road, he also espied the apparition sitting on the wheel, and scarcely had he passed the gallows when the ghost jumped down and ran after him. The driver was horribly afraid, and lashed on the horses, as everybody else had done before, and they, taking fright, galloped away over the log-road with a marvellous clatter. Meanwhile, however, the young nobleman saw by the light of the moon how that the apparition flattened a ball of horse-dung whereon it trod, and straightway felt sure within himself that it was no ghost. Whereupon he called to the driver to stop; and as the man would not hearken to him, he sprang out of the carriage, drew his rapier, and hastened to attack the ghost. When the ghost saw this he would have turned and fled, but the young nobleman gave him such a blow on the head with his fist that he fell upon the ground with a loud wailing. _Summa_: the young lord, having called back his driver, dragged the ghost into the town again, where he turned out to be a shoemaker called Schwelm. I also, on seeing such a great crowd, ran thither with many others to look at the fellow. He trembled like an aspen leaf; and when he was roughly told to make a clean breast, whereby he might peradventure save his own life, if it appeared that he had murdered no one, he confessed that he had got his wife to make him a gallows' dress, which he had put on, and had sat on the wheel before the dead man, when, from the darkness and the distance, no one could see that the two were sitting there together; and this he did more especially when he knew that a cart was going from the town to Wolgast. When the cart came by, and he jumped down and ran after it, all the people were so affrighted that they no longer kept their eyes upon the gallows, but only on him, flogged the horses, and galloped with much noise and clatter over the log embankment. This was heard by his fellows in Strellin and Dammbecke (two villages which are about three-fourths on the way), who held themselves ready to unyoke the horses and to plunder the travellers when they came up with them. That after the dead man was buried he could play the ghost more easily still, etc. That this was the whole truth, and that he himself had never in his life robbed, still less murdered, any one; wherefore he begged to be forgiven: that all the robberies and murders which had happened had been done by his fellows alone. Ah, thou cunning knave! But I heard afterwards that he and his fellows were broken on the wheel together, as was but fair. And now to come back to my journey. The young nobleman abode that night with me at the inn, and early next morning we both set forth; and as we had grown into good-fellowship together, I got into his coach with him, as he offered me, so as to talk by the way, and my Claus drove behind us. I soon found that he was a well-bred, honest, and learned gentleman, seeing that he despised the wild student life, and was glad that he had now done with their scandalous drinking-bouts: moreover, he talked his Latin readily. I had therefore much pleasure with him in the coach. However, at Wolgast the rope of the ferry-boat broke, so that we were carried down the stream to Zeuzin, and at length we only got ashore with great trouble. Meanwhile it grew late, and we did not get into Coserow till nine, when I asked the young lord to abide the night with me, which he agreed to do. We found my child sitting in the chimney-corner, making a petticoat for her little god-daughter out of her own old clothes. She was greatly frighted, and changed colour when she saw the young lord come in with me, and heard that he was to lie there that night, seeing that as yet we had no more beds than we had bought for our own need from old Zabel Nehring the forest ranger his widow, at Uekeritze. Wherefore she took me aside: What was to be done? My bed was in an ill plight, her little god-child having lain on it that morning; and she could nowise put the young nobleman into hers, although she would willingly creep in by the maid herself. And when I asked her why not? she blushed scarlet and began to cry, and would not show herself again the whole evening, so that the maid had to see to everything, even to the putting white sheets on my child's bed for the young lord, as she would not do it herself. I only tell this to show how maidens are. For next morning she came into the room with her red silk bodice, and the net on her hair, and the apron; _summa_, dressed in all the things I had bought her at Wolgast, so that the young lord was amazed, and talked much with her over the morning meal. Whereupon he took his leave, and desired me to visit him at his castle. [Illustration: The Gallows Ghost] _The Twelfth Chapter_ WHAT FURTHER JOY AND SORROW BEFELL US: _ITEM_, HOW WITTICH APPELMANN RODE TO DAMEROW TO THE WOLFHUNT, AND WHAT HE PROPOSED TO MY DAUGHTER The Lord blessed my parish wonderfully this winter, inasmuch as not only a great quantity of fish were caught and sold in all the villages, but in Coserow they even killed four seals: _item_, the great storm of the 12th of December threw a goodly quantity of amber on the shore, so that many found amber, although no very large pieces, and they began to buy cows and sheep from Liepe and other places, as I myself also bought two cows; _item_, my grain which I had sown, half on my own field and half on old Paasch's, sprang up bravely and gladly, as the Lord had till _datum_ bestowed on us an open winter; but so soon as it had shot up a finger's length, we found it one morning again torn up and ruined, and this time also by the devil's doings, since now, as before, not the smallest trace of oxen or of horses was to be seen in the field. May the righteous God, however, reward it, as indeed he already has done. Amen. Meanwhile, however, something uncommon happened. For one morning, as I have heard, when Lord Wittich saw out of the window that the daughter of his fisherman, a child of sixteen, whom he had diligently pursued, went into the coppice to gather dry sticks, he went thither too; wherefore, I will not say, but every one may guess for himself. When he had gone some way along the convent mound, and was come to the first bridge, where the mountain-ash stands, he saw two wolves coming towards him; and as he had no weapon with him, save a staff, he climbed up into a tree; whereupon the wolves trotted round it, blinked at him with their eyes, licked their lips, and at last jumped with their fore-paws up against the tree, snapping at him; he then saw that one was a he-wolf, a great fat brute with only one eye. Hereupon in his fright he began to scream, and the long-suffering of God was again shown to him, without, however, making him wiser; for the maiden, who had crept behind a juniper-bush in the field when she saw the Sheriff coming, ran back again to the castle and called together a number of people, who came and drove away the wolves, and rescued his lordship. He then ordered a great wolf-hunt to be held next day in the convent wood, and he who brought the one-eyed monster, dead or alive, was to have a barrel of beer for his pains. Still they could not catch him, albeit they that day took four wolves in their nets, and killed them. He therefore straightway ordered a wolf-hunt to be held in my parish. But when the fellow came to toll the bell for a wolf-hunt, he did not stop a while, as is the wont for wolf-hunts, but loudly rang the bell on, _sine morâ_, so that all the folk thought a fire had broken out, and ran screaming out of their houses. My child also came running out (I myself had driven to visit a sick person at Zempin, seeing that walking began to be wearisome to me, and that I could now afford to be more at mine ease); but she had not stood long, and was asking the reason of the ringing, when the Sheriff himself, on his grey charger, with three cart-loads of toils and nets following him, galloped up and ordered the people straightway to go into the forest and to drive the wolves with rattles. Hereupon he, with his hunters and a few men whom he had picked out of the crowd, were to ride on and spread the nets behind Damerow, seeing that the island is wondrous narrow there, and the wolf dreads the water. When he saw my daughter he turned his horse round, chucked her under the chin, and graciously asked her who she was, and whence she came? When he had heard it, he said she was as fair as an angel, and that he had not known till now that the parson here had so beauteous a girl. He then rode off, looking round at her two or three times. At the first beating they found the one-eyed wolf, who lay in the rushes near the water. Hereat his lordship rejoiced greatly, and made the grooms drag him out of the net with long iron hooks, and hold him there for near an hour, while my lord slowly and cruelly tortured him to death, laughing heartily the while, which is a _prognosticon_ of what he afterwards did with my poor child, for wolf or lamb is all one to this villain. Just God! But I will not be beforehand with my tale. Next day came old Seden his squint-eyed wife, limping like a lame dog, and put it to my daughter whether she would not go into the service of the Sheriff; praised him as a good and pious man; and vowed that all the world said of him were foul lies, as she herself could bear witness, seeing that she had lived in his service for above ten years. _Item_, she praised the good cheer they had there, and the handsome beer-money that the great lords who often lay there gave the servants which waited upon them; that she herself had more than once received a rose-noble from his Princely Highness Duke Ernest Ludewig; moreover, many pretty fellows came there, which might make her fortune, inasmuch as she was a fair woman, and might take her choice of a husband; whereas here in Coserow, where nobody ever came, she might wait till she was old and ugly before she got a curch on her head, etc. Hereat my daughter was beyond measure angered, and answered, "Ah! thou old witch, and who has told thee that I wish to go into service to get a curch on my head? Go thy ways, and never enter the house again, for I have nought to do with thee." Whereupon she walked away again, muttering between her teeth. Scarce had a few days passed, and I was standing in the chamber with the glazier, who was putting in new windows, when I heard my daughter scream in the kitchen. Whereupon I straightway ran in thither, and was shocked and affrighted when I saw the Sheriff himself standing in the corner with his arm round my child her neck; he, however, presently let her go, and said: "Aha, reverend Abraham, what a coy little fool you have for a daughter! I wanted to greet her with a kiss, as I always use to do, and she struggled and cried out as if I had been some young fellow who had stolen in upon her, whereas I might be her father twice over." As I answered nought, he went on to say that he had done it to encourage her, seeing that he desired to take her into his service, as indeed I knew, with more excuses of the same kind which I have forgot. Hereupon I pressed him to come into the room, seeing that after all he was the ruler set over me by God, and humbly asked what his lordship desired of me. Whereupon he answered me graciously that it was true he had just cause for anger against me, seeing that I had preached at him before the whole congregation, but that he was ready to forgive me, and to have the complaint he had sent in _contra me_ to his Princely Highness at Stettin, and which might easily cost me my place, returned to him if I would but do his will. And when I asked what his Lordship's will might be, and excused myself as best I might with regard to the sermon, he answered that he stood in great need of a faithful housekeeper whom he could set over the other women-folk; and as he had learnt that my daughter was a faithful and trustworthy person, he would that I should send her into his service. "See there," said he to her, and pinched her cheek the while, "I want to lead you to honour, though you are such a young creature, and yet you cry out as if I were going to bring you to dishonour. Fie upon you!" (My child still remembers all this _verbotenus_; I myself should have forgot it a hundred times over in all the wretchedness I since underwent.) But she was offended at his words, and, jumping up from her seat, she answered shortly, "I thank your lordship for the honour, but will only keep house for my papa, which is a better honour for me"; whereupon he turned to me and asked what I said to that. I must own that I was not a little affrighted, inasmuch as I thought of the future and of the credit in which the Sheriff stood with his Princely Highness. I therefore answered with all humility that I could not force my child, and that I loved to have her about me, seeing that my dear huswife had departed this life during the heavy pestilence, and I had no child but only her. That I hoped therefore his lordship would not be displeased with me that I could not send her into his lordship's service. This angered him sore, and after disputing some time longer in vain he took leave, not without threats that he would make me pay for it. _Item_, my man, who was standing in the stable, heard him say as he went round the corner, "I will have her yet, in spite of him!" I was already quite disheartened by all this, when, on the Sunday following, there came his huntsman Johannes Kurt, a tall, handsome fellow, and smartly dressed. He brought a roebuck tied before him on his horse, and said that his lordship had sent it to me for a present, in hopes that I would think better of his offer, seeing that he had been ever since seeking on all sides for a housekeeper in vain. Moreover, that if I changed my mind about it his lordship would speak for me to his Princely Highness, so that the dotation of Duke Philippus Julius should be paid to me out of the princely _aerarium_, etc. But the young fellow got the same answer as his master had done, and I desired him to take the roebuck away with him again. But this he refused to do; and as I had by chance told him at first that game was my favourite meat, he promised to supply me with it abundantly, seeing that there was plenty of game in the forest, and that he often went a-hunting on the Streckelberg; moreover, that I (he meant my daughter) pleased him uncommonly, the more because I would not do his master's will, who, as he told me in confidence, would never leave any girl in peace, and certainly would not let my damsel alone. Although I had rejected his game, he brought it notwithstanding, and in the course of three weeks he was sure to come four or five times, and grew more and more sweet upon my daughter. He talked a vast deal about his good place, and how he was in search of a good huswife, whence we soon guessed what quarter the wind blew from. _Ergo_, my daughter told him that if he was seeking for a huswife she wondered that he lost his time in riding to Coserow to no purpose, for that she knew of no huswife for him there, which vexed him so sore that he never came again. And now any one would think that the grapes were sour even for the Sheriff; nevertheless he came riding to us soon after, and without more ado asked my daughter in marriage for his huntsman. Moreover, he promised to build him a house of his own in the forest; _item_, to give him pots and kettles, crockery, bedding, etc., seeing that he had stood god-father to the young fellow, who, moreover, had ever borne himself well during seven years he had been in his service. Hereupon my daughter answered that his lordship had already heard that she would keep house for nobody but her papa, and that she was still much too young to become a huswife. This, however, did not seem to anger him, but after he had talked a long time to no purpose, he took leave quite kindly, like a cat which pretends to let a mouse go, and creeps behind the corners, but she is not in earnest, and presently springs out upon it again. For doubtless he saw that he had set to work stupidly; wherefore he went away in order to begin his attack again after a better fashion, and Satan went with him, as whilom with Judas Iscariot. _The Thirteenth Chapter_ WHAT MORE HAPPENED DURING THE WINTER: _ITEM_, HOW IN THE SPRING WITCHCRAFT BEGAN IN THE VILLAGE Nothing else of note happened during the winter, save that the merciful God bestowed a great plenty of fish, both from the Achterwater and the sea, and the parish again had good food; so that it might be said of us, as it is written, "For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee." Wherefore we were not weary of praising the Lord; and the whole congregation did much for the church, buying new pulpit and altar cloths, seeing that the enemy had stolen the old ones. _Item_, they desired to make good to me the money I had paid for the new cups, which, however, I would not take. There were still, however, about ten peasants in the parish who had not been able to buy their seed-corn for the spring, inasmuch as they had spent all their earnings on cattle and corn for bread. I therefore made an agreement with them that I would lend them the money for it, and that if they could not repay me this year, they might the next, which offer they thankfully took; and we sent seven waggons to Friedland, in Mecklenburg, to fetch seed-corn for us all. For my beloved brother-in-law, Martin Behring, in Hamburg, had already sent me by the schipper Wulf, who had sailed home by Christmas, 700 florins for the amber: may the Lord prosper it with him! Old Thiemcke died this winter in Loddin, who used to be the midwife in the parish, and had also brought my child into the world. Of late, however, she had had but little to do, seeing that in this year I only baptized two children, namely, Jung his son in Uekeritze, and Lene Hebers her little daughter, the same whom the Imperialists afterwards speared. _Item_, it was now full five years since I had married the last couple. Hence any one may guess that I might have starved to death had not the righteous God so mercifully considered and blessed me in other ways. Wherefore to him alone be all honour and glory. Amen. Meanwhile, however, it so happened that, not long after the Sheriff had last been here, witchcraft began in the village. I sat reading with my child the second book of _Virgilius_ of the fearful destruction of the city of Troy, which was more terrible even than that of our own village, when a cry arose that our old neighbour Zabel his red cow, which he had bought only a few days before, had stretched out all-fours and seemed about to die; and this was the more strange as she had fed heartily but half an hour before. My child was therefore begged to go and pluck three hairs from its tail, and bury them under the threshold of the stall; for it was well known that if this was done by a pure maid the cow would get better. My child then did as they would have her, seeing that she is the only maid in the whole village (for the others are still children); and the cow got better from that very hour, whereat all the folks were amazed. But it was not long before the same thing befell Witthahn her pig, whilst it was feeding heartily. She too came running to beg my child for God's sake to take compassion on her, and to do something for her pig, as ill men had bewitched it. Hereupon she had pity on her also, and it did as much good as it had done before. But the woman, who was _gravida_, was straightway taken in labour from the fright; and my child was scarce out of the pigsty when the woman went into her cottage, wailing and holding by the wall, and called together all the woman of the neighbourhood, seeing that the proper midwife was dead, as mentioned above; and before long something shot to the ground from under her; and when the women stooped down to pick it up, the devil's imp, which had wings like a bat, flew up off the ground, whizzed and buzzed about the room, and then shot out of the window with a great noise, so that the glass clattered down into the street. When they looked after it nothing was to be found. Any one may judge for himself what a great noise this made in all the neighbourhood; and the whole village believed that it was no one but old Seden his squint-eyed wife that had brought forth such a devil's brat. But the people soon knew not what to believe. For that woman her cow got the same thing as all the other cows; wherefore she too came lamenting, and begged my daughter to take pity on her, as on the rest, and to cure her poor cow for the love of God. That if she had taken it ill of her that she had said anything about going into service with the Sheriff, she could only say she had done it for the best, etc. _Summa_, she talked over my unhappy child to go and cure her cow. Meanwhile I was on my knees every Sunday before the Lord with the whole congregation, praying that he would not allow the Evil One to take from us that which his mercy had once more bestowed upon us after such extreme want. _Item_, that he would bring to light the _auctor_ of such devilish works, so that he might receive the punishment he deserved. But all was of no avail. For a very few days had passed when the mischief befell Stoffer Zuter his spotted cow, and he, too, like all the rest, came running to fetch my daughter; she accordingly went with him, but could do no good, and the beast died under her hands. _Item_, Katy Berow had bought a little pig with the money my daughter had paid her in the winter for spinning, and the poor woman kept it like a child, and let it run about her room. This little pig got the mischief, like all the rest, in the twinkling of an eye; and when my daughter was called it grew no better, but also died under her hands; whereupon the poor woman made a great outcry and tore her hair for grief, so that my child was moved to pity her, and promised her another pig next time my sow should litter. Meantime another week passed over, during which I went on, together with the whole congregation, to call upon the Lord for his merciful help, but all in vain, when the same thing happened to old wife Seden her little pig. Whereupon she again came running for my daughter with loud outcries, and although my child told her that she must have seen herself that nothing she could do for the cattle cured them any longer, she ceased not to beg and pray her and to lament till she went forth to do what she could for her with the help of God. But it was all to no purpose, inasmuch as the little pig died before she left the sty. What think you this devil's whore then did? After she had run screaming through the village she said that any one might see that my daughter was no longer a maid, else why could she now do no good to the cattle, whereas she had formerly cured them? She supposed my child had lost her maiden honour on the Streckelberg, whither she went so often this spring, and that God only knew who had taken it! But she said no more then, and we did not hear the whole until afterwards. And it is indeed true that my child had often walked on the Streckelberg this spring, both with me and also alone, in order to seek for flowers and to look upon the blessed sea, while she recited aloud, as she was wont, such verses out of _Virgilius_ as pleased her best (for whatever she read a few times, that she remembered). Neither did I forbid her to take these walks, for there were no wolves now left on the Streckelberg, and even if there had been they always fly before a human creature in the summer season. Howbeit, I forbade her to dig for amber. For as it now lay deep, and we knew not what to do with the earth we threw up, I resolved to tempt the Lord no further, but to wait till my store of money grew very scant before we would dig any more. But my child did not do as I had bidden her, although she had promised she would, and of this her disobedience came all our misery. (Oh, blessed Lord, how grave a matter is thy holy fourth commandment!) For as his reverence Johannes Lampius, of Crummin, who visited me this spring, had told me that the Cantor of Wolgast wanted to sell the _Opp. St. Augustini_, and I had said before her that I desired above all things to buy that book, but had not money enough left, she got up in the night without my knowledge to dig for amber, meaning to sell it as best she might at Wolgast, in order secretly to present me with the _Opp. St. Augustini_ on my birthday, which falls on the 28th _mensis Augusti_. She had always covered over the earth she cast up with twigs of fir, whereof there were plenty in the forest, so that no one should perceive anything of it. Meanwhile, however, it befell that the young _nobilis_ Rüdiger of Nienkerken came riding one day to gather news of the terrible witchcraft that went on in the village. When I had told him all about it he shook his head doubtingly, and said he believed that all witchcraft was nothing but lies and deceit; whereat I was struck with great horror, inasmuch as I had hitherto held the young lord to be a wiser man, and now could not but see that he was an Atheist. He guessed what my thoughts were, and with a smile he answered me by asking whether I had ever read Johannes Wierus, who would hear nothing of witchcraft, and who argued that all witches were melancholy persons who only imagined to themselves that they had a _pactum_ with the devil; and that to him they seemed more worthy of pity than of punishment? Hereupon I answered that I had not indeed read any such book (for say, who can read all that fools write?), but that the appearances here and in all other places proved that it was a monstrous error to deny the reality of witchcraft, inasmuch as people might then likewise deny that there were such things as murder, adultery, and theft. But he called my _argumentum_ a _dilemma_, and after he had discoursed a great deal of the devil, all of which I have forgotten, seeing it savoured strangely of heresy, he said he would relate to me a piece of witchcraft which he himself had seen at Wittenberg. It seems that one morning, as an Imperial captain mounted his good charger at the Elstergate in order to review his company, the horse presently began to rage furiously, reared, tossed his head, snorted, kicked, and roared, not as horses used to neigh, but with a sound as though the voice came from a human throat, so that all the folks were amazed, and thought the horse bewitched. It presently threw the captain, and crushed his head with its hoof, so that he lay writhing on the ground, and straightway set off at full speed. Hereupon a trooper fired his carabine at the bewitched horse, which fell in the midst of the road, and presently died. That he, Rüdiger, had then drawn near, together with many others, seeing that the colonel had forthwith given orders to the surgeon of the regiment to cut open the horse and see in what state it was inwardly. However, that everything was quite right, and both the surgeon and army physician testified that the horse was thoroughly sound; whereupon all the people cried out more than ever about witchcraft. Meanwhile he himself (I mean the young _nobilis_) saw a thin smoke coming out from the horse's nostrils, and on stooping down to look what it might be, he drew out a match as long as my finger, which still smouldered, and which some wicked fellow had privately thrust into its nose with a pin. Hereupon all thoughts of witchcraft were at an end, and search was made for the culprit, who was presently found to be no other than the captain's own groom. For one day that his master had dusted his jacket for him he swore an oath that he would have his revenge, which indeed the provost-marshal himself had heard as he chanced to be standing in the stable. _Item_, another soldier bore witness that he had seen the fellow cut a piece off the fuse not long before he led out his master's horse. And thus thought the young lord, would it be with all witchcraft if it were sifted to the bottom; like as I myself had seen at Gützkow, where the devil's apparition turned out to be a cordwainer, and that one day I should own that it was the same sort of thing here in our village. By reason of this speech I liked not the young nobleman from that hour forward, believing him to be an Atheist. Though, indeed, afterwards, I have had cause to see that he was in the right, more's the pity; for had it not been for him what would have become of my daughter? But I will say nothing beforehand.--_Summa_: I walked about the room in great displeasure at his words, while the young lord began to argue with my daughter upon witchcraft, now in Latin, and now in the vulgar tongue, as the words came into his mouth, and wanted to hear her mind about it. But she answered that she was a foolish thing, and could have no opinion on the matter; but that, nevertheless, she believed that what happened in the village could not be by natural means. Hereupon the maid called me out of the room (I forget what she wanted of me); but when I came back again my daughter was as red as scarlet, and the nobleman stood close before her. I therefore asked her, as soon as he had ridden off, whether anything had happened, which she at first denied, but afterwards owned that he had said to her while I was gone that he knew but one person who could bewitch; and when she asked him who that person was, he caught hold of her hand and said, "It is yourself, sweet maid; for you have thrown a spell upon my heart, as I feel right well!" But that he said nothing further, but only gazed on her face with eager eyes, and this it was that made her so red. But this is the way with maidens; they ever have their secrets if one's back is turned but for a minute; and the proverb To drive a goose and watch a maid Needs the devil himself to aid is but too true, as will be shown hereafter, more's the pity! _The Fourteenth Chapter_ HOW OLD SEDEN DISAPPEARED ALL ON A SUDDEN: _ITEM_, HOW THE GREAT GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS CAME TO POMERANIA, AND TOOK THE FORT AT PEENEM�NDE We were now left for some time in peace from witchcraft; unless, indeed, I reckon the caterpillars, which miserably destroyed my orchard, and which truly were a strange thing; for the trees blossomed so fair and sweetly that one day as we were walking under them, and praising the almighty power of the most merciful God, my child said, "If the Lord goes on to bless us so abundantly, it will be Christmas Eve with us every night of next winter!" But things soon fell out far otherwise; for all in a moment the trees were covered with such swarms of caterpillars (great and small, and of every shape and colour) that one might have measured them by the bushel, and before long my poor trees looked like brooms, and the blessed fruit--which was so well set--all fell off, and was scarce good enough for the pigs. I do not choose to lay this to any one, though I had my own private thoughts upon the matter, and have them yet. However, my barley, whereof I had sown about three bushels out on the common, shot up bravely. On my field I had sown nothing, seeing that I dreaded the malice of Satan. Neither was corn at all plentiful throughout the parish--in part because they had sown no winter crops, and in part because the summer crops did not prosper. However, in all the villages a great supply of fish was caught by the mercy of God, especially herring; but they were very low in price. Moreover, they killed many seals; and at Whitsuntide I myself killed one as I walked by the sea with my daughter. The creature lay on a rock close to the water, snoring like a Christian. Thereupon I pulled off my shoes and drew near him softly, so that he heard me not, and then struck him over his nose with my staff (for a seal cannot bear much on his nose), so that he tumbled over into the water; but he was quite stunned, and I could easily kill him outright. It was a fat beast, though not very large; and we melted forty pots of train-oil out of his fat, which we put by for a winter store. Meanwhile, however, something seized old Seden all at once, so that he wished to receive the holy sacrament. When I went to him he could give no reason for it; or perhaps he would give none for fear of his old Lizzie, who was always watching him with her squinting eyes, and would not leave the room. However, Zuter his little girl, a child near twelve years old, said that a few days before, while she was plucking grass for the cattle under the garden-hedge by the road, she heard the husband and wife quarrelling violently again, and that the goodman threw in her teeth that he now knew of a certainty that she had a familiar spirit, and that he would straightway go and tell it to the priest. Albeit this is only a child's tale, it may be true for all that, seeing that children and fools, they say, speak the truth. But be that as it may. _Summa_, my old warden grew worse and worse; and though I visited him every morning and evening--as I use to do to my sick--in order to pray with him, and often observed that he had somewhat on his mind, nevertheless he could not disburthen himself of it, seeing that old Lizzie never left her post. This went on for a while, when at last one day, about noon, he sent to beg me to scrape a little silver off the new sacramental cup, because he had been told that he should get better if he took it mixed with the dung of fowls. For some time I would not consent, seeing that I straightway suspected that there was some devilish mischief behind it; but he begged and prayed, till I did as he would have me. And lo and behold, he mended from that very hour; so that when I went to pray with him at evening, I found him already sitting on the bench with a bowl between his knees, out of which he was supping broth. However, he would not pray (which was strange, seeing that he used to pray so gladly, and often could not wait patiently for my coming, insomuch that he sent after me two or three times if I was not at hand, or elsewhere employed); but he told me he had prayed already, and that he would give me the cock whose dung he had taken for my trouble, as it was a fine large cock, and he had nothing better to offer for my Sunday's dinner. And as the poultry was by this time gone to roost, he went up to the perch which was behind the stove, and reached down the cock, and put it under the arm of the maid, who was just come to call me away. Not for all the world, however, would I have eaten the cock, but I turned it out to breed. I went to him once more, and asked whether I should give thanks to the Lord next Sunday for his recovery; whereupon he answered that I might do as I pleased in the matter. Hereat I shook my head, and left the house, resolving to send for him as soon as ever I should hear that his old Lizzie was from home (for she often went to fetch flax to spin from the Sheriff). But mark what befell within a few days! We heard an outcry that old Seden was missing, and that no one could tell what had become of him. His wife thought he had gone up into the Streckelberg, whereupon the accursed witch ran howling to our house and asked my daughter whether she had not seen anything of her goodman, seeing that she went up the mountain every day. My daughter said she had not; but, woe is me, she was soon to hear enough of him; for one morning, before sunrise, as she came down into the wood on her way back from her forbidden digging after amber, she heard a woodpecker (which no doubt was old Lizzie herself) crying so dolefully, close beside her, that she went in among the bushes to see what was the matter. There was the woodpecker sitting on the ground before a bunch of hair, which was red, and just like what old Seden's had been, and as soon as it espied her it flew up, with its beak full of the hair and slipped into a hollow tree. While my daughter still stood looking at this devil's work, up came old Paasch--who also had heard the cries of the woodpecker, as he was cutting roofing shingles on the mountain, with his boy--and was likewise struck with horror when he saw the hair on the ground. At first they thought a wolf must have eaten him, and searched all about, but could not find a single bone. On looking up they fancied they saw something red at the very top of the tree, so they made the boy climb up, and he forthwith cried out that here, too, there was a great bunch of red hair stuck to some leaves as if with pitch, but that it was not pitch, but something speckled red and white, like fishguts; _item_, that the leaves all around, even where there was no hair, were stained and spotted, and had a very ill smell. Hereupon the lad, at his master's bidding, threw down the clotted branch, and they two below straightway judged that this was the hair and brains of old Seden, and that the devil had carried him off bodily, because he would not pray nor give thanks to the Lord for his recovery. I myself believed the same, and told it on the Sunday as a warning to the congregation. But further on it will be seen that the Lord had yet greater cause for giving him into the hands of Satan, inasmuch as he had been talked over by his wicked wife to renounce his Maker in the hopes of getting better. Now, however, this devil's whore did as if her heart was broken, tearing out her red hair by whole handsful when she heard about the woodpecker from my child and old Paasch, and bewailing that she was now a poor widow, and who was to take care of her for the future, etc. Meanwhile we celebrated on this barren shore, as best we could and might, together with the whole Protestant Church, the 25th day _mensis Junii_, whereon, one hundred years ago, the Estates of the holy Roman Empire laid their confession before the most high and mighty Emperor Carolus V., at Augsburg; and I preached a sermon on Matt. x. 32, of the right confession of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, whereupon the whole congregation came to the Sacrament. Now, towards the evening of the selfsame day, as I walked with my daughter by the sea-shore, we saw several hundred sail of ships, both great and small, round about Ruden, and plainly heard firing, whereupon we judged forthwith that this must be the most high and mighty King Gustavus Adolphus, who was now coming, as he had promised, to the aid of poor persecuted Christendom. While we were still debating, a boat sailed towards us from Oie wherein was Kate Berow her son, who is a farmer there, and was coming to see his old mother. The same told us that it really was the king, who had this morning run before Ruden with his fleet from Rügen; that a few men of Oie were fishing there at the time, and saw how he went ashore with his officers, and straightway bared his head and fell upon his knees. Thus, then, most gracious God, did I thy unworthy servant enjoy a still greater happiness and delight that blessed evening than I had done on the blessed morn; and any one may think that I delayed not for a moment to fall on my knees with my child, and to follow the example of the king. And God knows I never in my life prayed so fervently as that evening, whereon the Lord showed such a wondrous sign upon us as to cause the deliverer of his poor Christian people to come among them on the very day when they had everywhere called upon him, on their knees, for his gracious help against the murderous wiles of the Pope and the devil. That night I could not sleep for joy, but went quite early in the morning to Damerow, where something had befallen Vithe his boy. I supposed that he, too, was bewitched; but this time it was not witchcraft, seeing that the boy had eaten something unwholesome in the forest. He could not tell what kind of berries they were; but the _malum_, which turned all his skin bright scarlet, soon passed over. As I therefore was returning home shortly after, I met a messenger from Peenemünde, whom his Majesty the high and mighty King Gustavus Adolphus had sent to tell the Sheriff that on the 29th of June, at ten o'clock in the morning, he was to send three guides to meet his Majesty at Coserow, and to guide him through the woods to Swine, where the Imperialists were encamped. _Item_, he related how his Majesty had taken the fort at Peenemünde yesterday (doubtless the cause of the firing we heard last evening), and that the Imperialists had run away as fast as they could, and played the bushranger properly; for after setting their camp on fire they all fled into the woods and coppices, and part escaped to Wolgast and part to Swine. Straightway I resolved in my joy to invent a _carmen gratulatorium_ to his Majesty, whom, by the grace of Almighty God, I was to see, the which my little daughter might present to him. I accordingly proposed it to her as soon as I got home, and she straightway fell on my neck for joy, and then began to dance about the room. But when she had considered a little, she thought her clothes were not good enough to wear before his Majesty, and that I should buy her a blue silk gown, with a yellow apron, seeing that these were the Swedish colours, and would please his Majesty right well. For a long time I would not, seeing that I hate this kind of pride; but she teased me with her kisses and coaxing words, till I, like an old fool, said yes, and ordered my ploughman to drive her over to Wolgast to-day to buy the stuff. Wherefore I think that the just God, who hateth the proud, and showeth mercy on the humble, did rightly chastise me for such pride. For I myself felt a sinful pleasure when she came back with two women who were to help her to sew, and laid the stuff before me. Next day she set to work at sunrise to sew, and I composed my _carmen_ the while. I had not got very far in it when the young Lord Rüdiger of Nienkerken came riding up, in order, as he said, to inquire whether his Majesty were indeed going to march through Coserow. And when I told him all I knew of the matter, _item_ informed him of our plan, he praised it exceedingly, and instructed my daughter (who looked more kindly upon him to-day than I altogether liked) how the Swedes use to pronounce the Latin, as _ratscho_ pro _ratio, uet_ pro _ut, schis_ pro _scis_, etc., so that she might be able to answer his Majesty with all due readiness. He said, moreover, that he had held much converse with Swedes at Wittenberg, as well as at Griepswald, wherefore if she pleased they might act a short _colloquium_, wherein he would play the king. Hereupon he sat down on the bench before her, and they both began chattering together, which vexed me sore, especially when I saw that she made but small haste with her needle the while. But say, dear reader, what was I to do? Wherefore I went my ways, and let them chatter till near noon, when the young lord at last took leave. But he promised to come again on Tuesday, when the king was here, and believed that the whole island would flock together at Coserow. As soon as he was gone, seeing that my _vena poetica_ (as may be easily guessed) was still stopped up, I had the horses put to and drove all over the parish, exhorting the people in every village to be at the Giant's Stone by Coserow at nine o'clock on Tuesday, and that they were all to fall on their knees as soon as they should see the king coming and that I knelt down; _item_, to join at once in singing the Ambrosian hymn of praise, which I should lead off as soon as the bells began to ring. This they all promised to do; and after I had again exhorted them to it on Sunday in church, and prayed to the Lord for his Majesty out of the fulness of my heart, we scarce could await the blessed Tuesday for joyful impatience. _The Fifteenth Chapter_ OF THE ARRIVAL OF THE HIGH AND MIGHTY KING GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS AND WHAT BEFELL THEREAT Meanwhile I finished my _carmen_ in _metrum elegiacum_, which my daughter transcribed (seeing that her handwriting is fairer than mine) and diligently learned, so that she might say it to his Majesty. _Item_, her clothes were gotten ready, and became her purely; and on Monday she went up to the Streckelberg, although the heat was such that the crows gasped on the hedges; for she wanted to gather flowers for a garland she designed to wear, and which was also to be blue and yellow. Towards evening she came home with her apron filled with all manner of flowers; but her hair was quite wet, and hung all matted about her shoulders. (My God, my God, was everything to come together to destroy me, wretched man that I am!) I asked, therefore, where she had been that her hair was so wet and matted: whereupon she answered that she had gathered flowers round the Kölpin, and from thence she had gone down to the sea-shore, where she had bathed in the sea, seeing that it was very hot and no one could see her. Thus, said she, jesting, she should appear before his Majesty to-morrow doubly a clean maid. This displeased me at the time, and I looked grave, although I said nought. Next morning at six o'clock all the people were already at the Giant's Stone, men, women, and children. _Summa_, everybody that was able to walk was there. At eight o'clock my daughter was already dressed in all her bravery, namely, a blue silken gown, with a yellow apron and kerchief, and a yellow hair-net, with a garland of blue and yellow flowers round her head. It was not long before my young lord arrived, finely dressed, as became a nobleman. He wanted to inquire, as he said, by which road I should go up to the Stone with my daughter, seeing that his father, Hans von Nienkerken, _item_ Wittich Appelmann and the Lepels of Gnitze, were also going, and that there was much people on all the high roads, as though a fair was being held. But I straightway perceived that all he wanted was to see my daughter, inasmuch as he presently occupied himself about her, and began chattering with her in the Latin again. He made her repeat to him the _carmen_ to his Majesty; whereupon he, in the person of the king, answered her: "_Dulcissima et venustissima puella, quae mihi in coloribus caeli, ut angelus Domini appares utinam semper mecum esses, nunquam mihi male caderet_"; whereupon she grew red, as likewise did I, but from vexation, as may be easily guessed. I therefore begged that his lordship would but go forward toward the Stone, seeing that my daughter had yet to help me on with my surplice; whereupon, however, he answered that he would wait for us the while in the chamber, and that we might then go together. _Summa_, I blessed myself from this young lord; but what could I do? As he would not go, I was forced to wink at it all; and before long we went up to the Stone, where I straight-way chose three sturdy fellows from the crowd, and sent them up the steeple, that they might begin to ring the bells as soon as they should see me get up upon the Stone and wave my napkin. This they promised to do, and straightway departed; whereupon I sat down on the Stone with my daughter, thinking that the young lord would surely stand apart, as became his dignity; albeit he did not, but sat down with us on the Stone. And we three sat there all alone, and all the folk looked at us, but none drew near to see my child's fine clothes, not even the young lasses, as is their wont to do; but this I did not observe till afterwards, when I heard how matters stood with us even then. Towards nine o'clock Hans von Nienkerken and Wittich Appelmann galloped up, and old Nienkerken called to his son in an angry voice: and seeing that the young lord heard him not, he rode up to the Stone, and cried out so loud that all the folk might hear, "Canst thou not hearken, boy, when thy father calls thee?" Whereupon Rüdiger followed him in much displeasure, and we saw from a distance how the old lord seemed to threaten his son, and spat out before him; but knew not what this might signify: we were to learn it soon enough, though, more's the pity! Soon after the two Lepels of Gnitze came from the Damerow; and the noblemen saluted one other on the green sward close beside us, but without looking on us. And I heard the Lepels say that nought could yet be seen of his Majesty, but that the coastguard fleet around Ruden was in motion, and that several hundred ships were sailing this way. As soon as this news was known, all the folk ran to the sea-shore (which is but a step from the Stone); and the noblemen rode thither too, all save Wittich, who had dismounted, and who, when he saw that I sent old Paasch his boy up into a tall oak-tree to look out for the king, straightway busied himself about my daughter again, who now sat all alone upon the Stone: "Why had she not taken his huntsman? and whether she would not change her mind on the matter and have him now, or else come into service with him (the Sheriff) himself? for that if she would not, he believed she might be sorry for it one day." Whereupon she answered him (as she told me), that there was but one thing she was sorry for, namely, that his lordship would take so much useless pains upon her; whereupon she rose with all haste and came to where I stood under the tree, looking after the lad who was climbing up it. But our old Ilse said that he swore a great curse when my daughter turned her back upon him, and went straightway into the alder-grove close by the high road, where stood the old witch Lizzie Kolken. Meanwhile I went with my daughter to the sea-shore, and found it quite true that the whole fleet was sailing over from Ruden and Oie towards Wollin, and several ships passed so close before us that we could see the soldiers standing upon them and the flashing of their arms. _Item_, we heard the horses neigh and the soldiery laugh. On one ship, too, they were drumming, and on another cattle lowed and sheep bleated. Whilst we yet gazed we saw smoke come out from one of the ships, followed by a great noise, and presently we were aware of the ball bounding over the water, which foamed and splashed on either side, and coming straight towards us. Hereupon the crowd ran away on every side with loud cries, and we plainly heard the soldiery in the ships laugh thereat. But the ball flew up and struck into the midst of an oak hard by Paasch his boy, so that nearly two cartloads of boughs fell to the earth with a great crash, and covered all the road by which his Majesty was to come. Hereupon the boy would stop no longer in the tree, however much I exhorted him thereto, but cried out to us as he came down that a great troop of soldiers was marching out of the forest by Damerow, and that likely enough the king was among them. Hereupon the Sheriff ordered the road to be cleared forthwith, and this was some time a-doing, seeing that the thick boughs were stuck fast in the trees all around; the nobles, as soon as all was made ready, would have ridden to meet his Majesty, but stayed still on the little green sward, because we already heard the noise of horses, carriages, and voices close to us in the forest. It was not long before the cannons broke through the brushwood with the three guides seated upon them. And seeing that one of them was known to me (it was Stoffer Krauthahn of Peenemünde), I drew near and begged him that he would tell me when the king should come. But he answered that he was going forward with the cannon to Coserow, and that I was only to watch for a tall dark man, with a hat and feather and a gold chain round his neck, for that that was the king, and that he rode next after the great standard whereon was a yellow lion. Wherefore I narrowly watched the procession as it wound out of the forest. And next after the artillery came the Finnish and Lapland bowmen, who went clothed all in furs, although it was now the height of summer, whereat I greatly wondered. After these there came much people, but I know not what they were. Presently I espied over the hazel-tree which stood in my way so that I could not see everything as soon as it came forth out of the coppice, the great flag with the lion on it, and behind that the head of a very dark man with a golden chain round his neck, whereupon straightway I judged this must be the king. I therefore waved my napkin toward the steeple, whereupon the bells forthwith rang out, and while the dark man rode nearer to us, I pulled off my skull-cap, fell upon my knees, and led the Ambrosian hymn of praise, and all the people plucked their hats from their heads and knelt down on the ground all around, singing after me; men, women, and children, save only the nobles, who stood still on the green sward, and did not take off their hats and behave with attention until they saw that his Majesty drew in his horse. (It was a coal-black charger, and stopped with its two fore-feet right upon my field, which I took as a sign of good fortune.) When we had finished, the Sheriff quickly got off his horse, and would have approached the king with his three guides, who followed after him; _item_, I had taken my child by the hand, and would also have drawn near to the king. Howbeit, his Majesty motioned away the Sheriff and beckoned us to approach, whereupon I wished his Majesty joy in the Latin tongue, and extolled his magnanimous heart, seeing that he had deigned to visit German ground for the protection and aid of poor persecuted Christendom; and praised it as a sign from God that such had happened on this the high festival of our poor church, and I prayed his Majesty graciously to receive what my daughter desired to present to him; whereupon his Majesty looked on her and smiled pleasantly. Such gracious bearing made her bold again, albeit she trembled visibly just before, and she reached him a blue and yellow wreath, whereon lay the _carmen_, saying, "_Accipe hanc vilem coronam et haec_" whereupon she began to recite the _carmen_. Meanwhile his Majesty grew more and more gracious, looking now on her and now on the _carmen_, and nodded with especial kindness towards the end, which was as follows:-- Tempus erit, quo tu reversus ab hostibus ultor Intrabis patriae libera regna meae; Tunc meliora student nostrae tibi carmina musae, Tunc tua, maxime rex, Martia facta canam. Tu modo versiculis ne spernas vilibus ausum Auguror et res est ista futura brevi! Sis foelix, fortisque diu, vive optime princeps, Omnia, et ut possis vincere, dura. Vale! As soon as she held her peace, his Majesty said, "_Propius accedas, patria virgo, ut te osculer_"; whereupon she drew near to his horse, blushing deeply. I thought he would only have kissed her forehead, as potentates commonly use to do, but not at all! he kissed her lips with a loud smack, and the long feathers on his hat drooped over her neck, so that I was quite afraid for her again. But he soon raised up his head, and taking off his gold chain, whereon dangled his own effigy, he hung it round my child's neck with these words: "_Hocce tuce pulchritudim! et si favente Deo redux fuero victor, promissum carmen et praeterea duo oscula exspecto_." Hereupon the Sheriff with his three men again came forward and bowed down to the ground before his Majesty. But as he knew no Latin, _item_ no Italian nor French, I had to act as interpreter. For his Majesty inquired how far it was to Swine, and whether there was still much foreign soldiery there: And the Sheriff thought there were still about 200 Croats in the camp; whereupon his Majesty spurred on his horse, and nodding graciously, cried "_Valete_!" And now came the rest of the troops, about 3000 strong, out of the coppice, which likewise had a valiant bearing, and attempted no fooleries, as troops are wont to do, when they passed by us and the women, but marched on in honest quietness, and we followed the train until the forest beyond Coserow, where we commended it to the care of the Almighty, and every one went on his way home. _The Sixteenth Chapter_ HOW LITTLE MARY PAASCH WAS SORELY PLAGUED OF THE DEVIL, AND THE WHOLE PARISH FELL OFF FROM ME Before I proceed any further I will first mark that the illustrious King Gustavus Adolphus, as we presently heard, had cut down the 300 Croats at Swine, and was thence gone by sea to Stettin. May God be for ever gracious to him! Amen. But my sorrows increased from day to day, seeing that the devil now played pranks such as he never had played before. I had begun to think that the ears of God had hearkened to our ardent prayers, but it pleased him to try us yet more hardly than ever. For, a few days after the arrival of the most illustrious King Gustavus Adolphus, it was bruited about that my child her little god-daughter was possessed of the Evil One, and tumbled about most piteously on her bed, insomuch that no one was able to hold her. My child straightway went to see her little god-daughter, but presently came weeping home. Old Paasch would not suffer her even to come near her, but railed at her very angrily, and said that she should never come within his doors again, as his child had got the mischief from the white roll which she had given her that morning. It was true that my child had given her a roll, seeing that the maid had been the day before to Wolgast and had brought back a napkin full of them. Such news vexed me sore, and after putting on my cassock I went to old Paasch his house to exorcise the foul fiend and to remove such disgrace from my child. I found the old man standing on the floor by the cockloft steps weeping; and after I had spoken "The peace of God," I asked him first of all whether he really believed that his little Mary had been bewitched by means of the roll which my child had given her? He said, "Yes!" And when I answered that in that case I also must have been bewitched, _item_ Pagel his little girl, seeing that we both had eaten of the rolls, he was silent, and asked me with a sigh, whether I would not go into the room and see for myself how matters stood. I then entered with "The peace of God," and found six people standing round little Mary her bed; her eyes were shut, and she was as stiff as a board; wherefore Kit Wells (who was a young and sturdy fellow) seized the little child by one leg and held her out like a hedgestake, so that I might see how the devil plagued her. I now said a prayer, and Satan, perceiving that a servant of Christ was come, began to tear the child so fearfully that it was pitiful to behold; for she flung about her hands and feet so that four strong men were scarce able to hold her: _item_ she was afflicted with extraordinary risings and fallings of her belly, as if a living creature were therein, so that at last the old witch Lizzie Kolken sat herself upon her belly, whereupon the child seemed to be somewhat better, and I told her to repeat the Apostles' Creed, so as to see whether it really were the devil who possessed her. She straightway grew worse than before, and began to gnash her teeth, to roll her eyes, and to strike so hard with her hands and feet that she flung her father, who held one of her legs, right into the middle of the room, and then struck her foot so hard against the bedstead that the blood flowed, and Lizzie Kolken was thrown about on her belly as though she had been in a swing. And as I ceased not, but exorcised Satan that he should leave her, she began to howl and to bark like a dog, _item_ to laugh, and spoke at last, with a gruff bass voice, like an old man's, "I will not depart." But he should soon have been forced to depart out of her, had not both father and mother besought me by God's holy Sacrament to leave their poor child in peace, seeing that nothing did her any good, but rather made her worse. I was therefore forced to desist, and only admonished the parents to seek for help, like the Canaanitish woman, in true repentance and incessant prayer, and with her to sigh in constant faith, "Have mercy upon me, O Lord, Thou Son of David, my daughter is grievously vexed of a devil," Matthew xv.; that the heart of our Lord would then melt, so that he would have mercy on their child, and command Satan to depart from her. _Item_, I promised to pray for the little child on the following Sunday with the whole congregation, and told them to bring her, if it were any ways possible, to the church, seeing that the ardent prayer of the whole congregation has power to rise beyond the clouds. This they promised to do, and I then went home sorely troubled, where I soon learned that she was somewhat better; thus it still is sure that Satan hates nothing so much, after the Lord Jesus, as the servants of the Gospel. But wait, and I shall even yet "bruise thy head with my heel" (Genesis, chap, iii.); nought shall avail thee. Howbeit before the blessed Sunday came, I perceived that many of my people went out of my way, both in the village and elsewhere in the parish, where I went to visit sundry sick folks. When I went to Uekeritze to see young Tittlewitz, there even befell me as follows:--Claus Pieper the peasant stood in his yard chopping wood, and on seeing me he flung the axe out of his hand so hastily that it stuck in the ground, and he ran towards the pigsty, making the sign of the cross. I motioned him to stop, and asked why he thus ran from me, his confessor? Whether, peradventure, he also believed that my daughter had bewitched her little god-child? "_Ille_. Yes, he believed it, because the whole parish did. _Ego_. Why, then, had she been so kind to her formerly, and kept her like a sister through the worst of the famine? _Ille_. This was not the only mischief she had done. _Ego_. What, then, had she done besides? _Ille_. That was all one to me. _Ego_. He should tell me, or I would complain to the magistrate. _Ille_. That I might do, if I pleased." Whereupon he went his way insolently. Any one may guess that I was not slow to inquire everywhere what people thought my daughter had done; but no one would tell me anything, and I might have grieved to death at such evil reports. Moreover not one child came during this whole week to school to my daughter; and when I sent out the maid to ask the reason she brought back word that the children were ill, or that the parents wanted them for their work. I thought and thought, but all to no purpose, until the blessed Sunday came round when I meant to have held a great Sacrament, seeing that many people had made known their intention to come to the Lord's table. It seemed strange to me that I saw no one standing (as was their wont) about the church door; I thought, however, that they might have gone into the houses. But when I went into the church with my daughter, there were not more than six people assembled, among whom was old Lizzie Kolken; and the accursed witch no sooner saw my daughter follow me than she made the sign of the cross and ran out of the door under the steeple; whereupon the five others, among them mine own church-warden Claus Bulken (I had not appointed any one in the room of old Seden), followed her. I was so horror-struck that my blood curdled, and I began to tremble, so that I fell with my shoulder against the confessional. My child, to whom I had as yet told nothing, in order to spare her, then asked me, "Father, what is the matter with all the people; are they, too, bewitched?" Whereupon I came to myself again and went into the churchyard to look after them. But all were gone save my churchwarden, Claus Bulken, who stood under the lime-tree, whistling to himself. I stepped up to him and asked what had come to the people? Whereupon he answered he could not tell; and when I asked him again why, then, he himself had left the church, he said, What was he to do there alone, seeing that no collection could be made? I then implored him to tell me the truth, and what horrid suspicion had arisen against me in the parish? But he answered, I should very soon find it out for myself; and he jumped over the wall and went into old Lizzie her house, which stands close by the churchyard. My child had made ready some veal broth for dinner, for which I mostly use to leave everything else; but I could not swallow one spoonful, but sat resting my head on my hand, and doubted whether I should tell her or no. Meanwhile the old maid came in ready for a journey, and with a bundle in her hand, and begged me with tears to give her leave to go. My poor child turned pale as a corpse, and asked in amaze what had come to her? but she merely answered, "Nothing!" and wiped her eyes with her apron. When I recovered my speech, which had well-nigh left me at seeing that this faithful old creature was also about to forsake me, I began to question her why she wished to go; she who had dwelt with me so long, and who would not forsake us even in the great famine, but had faithfully borne up against it, and, indeed, had humbled me by her faith, and had exhorted me to stand out gallantly to the last, for which I should be grateful to her as long as I lived. Hereupon she merely wept and sobbed yet more, and at length brought out that she still had an old mother of eighty living in Liepe, and that she wished to go and nurse her till her end. Hereupon my daughter jumped up and answered with tears, "Alas, old Ilse, why wilt thou leave us, for thy mother is with thy brother? Do but tell me why thou wilt forsake me, and what harm have I done thee, that I may make it good to thee again." But she hid her face in her apron and sobbed and could not get out a single word; whereupon my child drew away the apron from her face, and would have stroked her cheeks to make her speak. But when Ilse saw this she struck my poor child's hand and cried, "Ugh!" spat out before her, and straightway went out at the door. Such a thing she had never done even when my child was a little girl, and we were both so shocked that we could neither of us say a word. Before long my poor child gave a loud cry, and cast herself upon the bench, weeping and wailing, "What has happened, what has happened?" I therefore thought I ought to tell her what I had heard--namely, that she was looked upon as a witch. Whereat she began to smile instead of weeping any more, and ran out of the door to overtake the maid, who had already left the house, as we had seen. She returned after an hour, crying out that all the people in the village had run away from her when she would have asked them whither the maid was gone. _Item_, the little children, for whom she had kept school, had screamed, and had hidden themselves from her; also no one would answer her a single word, but all spat out before her, as the maid had done. On her way home she had seen a boat on the water, and had run as fast as she could to the shore, and called with might and main after old Ilse, who was in the boat. But she had taken no notice of her, not even once to look round after her, but had motioned her to be gone. And now she went on to weep and to sob the whole day and the whole night, so that I was more miserable than even in the time of the great famine. But the worst was yet to come, as will be shown in the following chapter. _The Seventeenth Chapter_ HOW MY POOR CHILD WAS TAKEN UP FOR A WITCH, AND CARRIED TO PUDGLA The next day, Monday, the 12th July, at about eight in the morning, while we sat in our grief, wondering who could have prepared such great sorrow for us, and speedily agreed that it could be none other than the accursed witch Lizzie Kolken, a coach with four horses drove quickly up to the door, wherein sat six fellows, who straightway all jumped out. Two went and stood at the front, two at the back door, and two more, one of whom was the constable Jacob Knake, came into the room, and handed me a warrant from the Sheriff for the arrest of my daughter, as in common repute of being a wicked witch, and for her examination before the criminal court. Any one may guess how my heart sank within me when I read this. I dropped to the earth like a felled tree, and when I came to myself my child had thrown herself upon me with loud cries, and her hot tears ran down over my face. When she saw that I came to myself, she began to praise God therefor with a loud voice, and essayed to comfort me, saying that she was innocent, and should appear with a clean conscience before her judges. _Item_, she repeated to me the beautiful text from Matthew, chap. v.: "Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake." And she begged me to rise and to throw my cassock over my doublet, and go with her, for that without me she would not suffer herself to be carried before the Sheriff. Meanwhile, however, all the village--men, women, and children--had thronged together before my door; but they remained quiet, and only peeped in at the windows, as though they would have looked right through the house. When we had both made us ready, and the constable, who at first would not take me with them, had thought better of it, by reason of a good fee which my daughter gave him, we walked to the coach; but I was so helpless that I could not get up into it. Old Paasch, when he saw this, came and helped me up into the coach, saying, "God comfort ye! Alas, that you should ever see your child to come to this!" and he kissed my hand to take leave. A few others came up to the coach, and would have done likewise; but I besought them not to make my heart still heavier, and to take Christian charge of my house and my affairs until I should return. Also to pray diligently for me and my daughter, so that the Evil One, who had long gone about our village like a roaring lion, and who now threatened to devour me, might not prevail against us, but might be forced to depart from me and from my child as from our guileless Saviour in the wilderness. But to this none answered a word; and I heard right well, as we drove away, that many spat out after us, and one said (my child thought it was Berow her voice), "We would far sooner lay fire under thy coats than pray for thee." We were still sighing over such words as these when we came near to the churchyard, and there sat the accursed witch Lizzie Kolken at the door of her house with her hymn-book in her lap, screeching out at the top of her voice, "God the Father, dwell with us," as we drove past her; the which vexed my poor child so sore that she swounded, and fell like one dead upon me. I begged the driver to stop, and called to old Lizzie to bring us a pitcher of water; but she did as though she had not heard me, and went on to sing so that it rang again. Whereupon the constable jumped down, and at my request ran back to my house to fetch a pitcher of water; and he presently came back with it, and the people after him, who began to say aloud that my child's bad conscience had stricken her, and that she had now betrayed herself. Wherefore I thanked God when she came to life again, and we could leave the village. But at Uekeritze it was just the same, for all the people had flocked together, and were standing on the green before Labahn his house when we went by. Nevertheless, they were quiet enough as we drove past, albeit some few cried, "How can it be, how can it be?" I heard nothing else. But in the forest near the watermill the miller and all his men ran out and shouted, laughing, "Look at the witch, look at the witch!" Whereupon one of the men struck at my poor child with the sack which he held in his hand, so that she turned quite white, and the flour flew all about the coach like a cloud. When I rebuked him, the wicked rogue laughed and said, that if no other smoke than that ever came under her nose, so much the better for her. _Item_, it was worse in Pudgla than even at the mill. The people stood so thick on the hill, before the castle, that we could scarce force our way through, and the Sheriff caused the death-bell in the castle-tower to toll as an _avisum_. Whereupon more and more people came running out of the ale-houses and cottages. Some cried out, "Is that the witch?" Others, again, "Look at the parson's witch! the parson's witch!" and much more, which for very shame I may not write. They scraped up the mud out of the gutter which ran from the castle-kitchen and threw it upon us; _item_, a great stone, the which struck one of the horses so that it shied, and belike would have upset the coach had not a man sprung forward and held it in. All this happened before the castle-gates, where the Sheriff stood smiling and looking on, with a heron's feather stuck in his grey hat. But so soon as the horse was quiet again, he came to the coach and mocked at my child, saying, "See, young maid, thou wouldst not come to me, and here thou art nevertheless!" Whereupon she answered, "Yea, I come; and may you one day come before your judge as I come before you"; whereunto I said, Amen, and asked him how his lordship could answer before God and man for what he had done to a wretched man like myself and to my child? But he answered, saying, Why had I come with her? And when I told him of the rude people here, _item_, of the churlish miller's man, he said that it was not his fault, and threatened the people all around with his fist, for they were making a great noise. Thereupon he commanded my child to get down and to follow him, and went before her into the castle; motioned the constable, who would have gone with them, to stay at the foot of the steps, and began to mount the winding staircase to the upper rooms alone with my child. But she whispered me privately, "Do not leave me, father"; and I presently followed softly after them. Hearing by their voices in which chamber they were, I laid my ear against the door to listen. And the villain offered to her that if she would love him nought should harm her, saying he had power to save her from the people; but that if she would not, she should go before the court next day, and she might guess herself how it would fare with her, seeing that he had many witnesses to prove that she had played the wanton with Satan, and had suffered him to kiss her. Hereupon she was silent, and only sobbed, which the arch-rogue took as a good sign, and went on: "If you have had Satan himself for a sweetheart, you surely may love me." And he went to her and would have taken her in his arms, as I perceived; for she gave a loud scream, and flew to the door; but he held her fast, and begged and threatened as the devil prompted him. I was about to go in when I heard her strike him in the face, saying, "Get thee behind me, Satan," so that he let her go. Whereupon she ran out at the door so suddenly that she threw me on the ground, and fell upon me with a loud cry. Hereat the Sheriff, who had followed her, started, but presently cried out, "Wait, thou prying parson, I will teach thee to listen!" and ran out and beckoned to the constable who stood on the steps below. He bade him first shut me up in one dungeon, seeing that I was an eavesdropper, and then return and thrust my child into another. But he thought better of it when we had come halfway down the winding-stair, and said he would excuse me this time, and that the constable might let me go, and only lock up my child very fast, and bring the key to him, seeing she was a stubborn person, as he had seen at the very first hearing which he had given her. Hereupon my poor child was torn from me, and I fell in a swound upon the steps. I know not how I got down them; but when I came to myself, I was in the constable his room, and his wife was throwing water in my face. There I passed the night sitting in a chair, and sorrowed more than I prayed, seeing that my faith was greatly shaken, and the Lord came not to strengthen it. _The Eighteenth Chapter_ OF THE FIRST TRIAL, AND WHAT CAME THEREOF Next morning, as I walked up and down in the court, seeing that I had many times asked the constable in vain to lead me to my child (he would not even tell me where she lay), and for very disquietude I had at last begun to wander about there; about six o'clock there came a coach from Uzdom, wherein sat his worship, Master Samuel Pieper, _consul dirigens_, _item_, the _camerarius_ Gebhard Wenzel, and a _scriba_, whose name, indeed, I heard, but have forgotten it again; and my daughter forgot it too, albeit in other things she has an excellent memory, and, indeed, told me most of what follows, for my old head well-nigh burst, so that I myself could remember but little. I straightway went up to the coach, and begged that the worshipful court would suffer me to be present at the trial, seeing that my daughter was yet in her nonage, but which the Sheriff, who meanwhile had stepped up to the coach from the terrace, whence he had seen all, had denied me. But his worship Master Samuel Pieper, who was a little round man, with a fat paunch, and a beard mingled with grey hanging down to his middle, reached me his hand, and condoled with me like a Christian in my trouble: I might come into court in God's name; and he wished with all his heart that all whereof my daughter was filed might prove to be foul lies. Nevertheless I had still to wait two hours before their worships came down the winding stair again. At last towards nine o'clock I heard the constable moving about the chairs and benches in the judgment-chamber; and as I conceived that the time was now come, I went in and sat myself down on a bench. No one, however, was yet there, save the constable and his young daughter, who was wiping the table, and held a rosebud between her lips. I was fain to beg her to give it me, so that I might have it to smell to; and I believe that I should have been carried dead out of the room that day if I had not had it. God is thus able to preserve our lives even by means of a poor flower, if so he wills it! At length their worships came in and sat round the table, whereupon _Dom. Consul_ motioned the constable to fetch in my child. Meanwhile he asked the Sheriff whether he had put _Rea_ in chains, and when he said No, he gave him such a reprimand that it went through my very marrow. But the Sheriff excused himself, saying that he had not done so from regard to her quality, but had locked her up in so fast a dungeon that she could not possibly escape therefrom. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ answered that much is possible to the devil, and that they would have to answer for it should _Rea_ escape. This angered the Sheriff, and he replied that if the devil could convey her through walls seven feet thick, and through three doors, he could very easily break her chains too. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ said that hereafter he would look at the prison himself; and I think that the Sheriff had been so kind only because he yet hoped (as, indeed, will hereafter be shown) to talk over my daughter to let him have his will of her. And now the door opened, and my poor child came in with the constable, but walking backwards, and without her shoes, the which she was forced to leave without. The fellow had seized her by her long hair, and thus dragged her up to the table, when first she was to turn round and look upon her judges. He had a vast deal to say in the matter, and was in every way a bold and impudent rogue, as will soon be shown. After _Dom. Consul_ had heaved a deep sigh, and gazed at her from head to foot, he first asked her her name, and how old she was; _item_, if she knew why she was summoned before them? On the last point she answered that the Sheriff had already told her father the reason; that she wished not to wrong any one, but thought that the Sheriff himself had brought upon her the repute of a witch, in order to gain her to his wicked will. Hereupon she told all his ways with her, from the very first, and how he would by all means have had her for his housekeeper; and that when she would not (although he had many times come himself to her father his house), one day, as he went out of the door, he had muttered in his beard, "I will have her, despite of all!" which their servant Claus Neels had heard, as he stood in the stable; and he had also sought to gain his ends by means of an ungodly woman, one Lizzie Kolken, who had formerly been in his service; that this woman, belike, had contrived the spells which they laid to her charge: she herself knew nothing of witchcraft; _item_, she related what the Sheriff had done to her the evening before, when she had just come, and when he for the first time spoke out plainly, thinking that she was then altogether in his power: nay, more, that he had come to her that very night again, in her dungeon, and had made her the same offers, saying that he would set her free if she would let him have his will of her; and that when she denied him, he had struggled with her, whereupon she had screamed aloud, and had scratched him across the nose, as might yet be seen, whereupon he had left her; wherefore she would not acknowledge the Sheriff as her judge, and trusted in God to save her from the hand of her enemies, as of old he had saved the chaste Susannah.-- When she now held her peace amid loud sobs, _Dom. Consul_ started up after he had looked, as we all did, at the Sheriff's nose, and had in truth espied the scar upon it, and cried out in amaze, "Speak, for God his sake, speak, what is this that I hear of your lordship?" Whereupon the Sheriff, without changing colour, answered that although, indeed, he was not called upon to say anything to their worships, seeing that he was the head of the court, and that _Rea_, as appeared from numberless _indicia_, was a wicked witch, and therefore could not bear witness against him or any one else; he, nevertheless, would speak, so as to give no cause of scandal to the court; that all the charges brought against him by this person were foul lies; it was, indeed, true, that he would have hired her for a housekeeper, whereof he stood greatly in need, seeing that his old Dorothy was already growing infirm; it was also true that he had yesterday questioned her in private, hoping to get her to confess by fair means, whereby her sentence would be softened, inasmuch as he had pity on her great youth; but that he had not said one naughty word to her, nor had he been to her in the night; and that it was his little lap-dog, called Below, which had scratched him, while he played with it that very morning; that his old Dorothy could bear witness to this, and that the cunning witch had only made use of this wile to divide the court against itself, thereby and with the devil's help, to gain her own advantage, inasmuch as she was a most cunning creature, as the court would soon find out. Hereupon I plucked up a heart, and declared that all my daughter had said was true, and that the evening before I myself had heard, through the door, how his lordship had made offers to her, and would have done wantonness with her; _item_, that he had already sought to kiss her once at Coserow; _item_, the troubles which his lordship had formerly brought upon me in the matter of the first-fruits. Howbeit the Sheriff presently talked me down, saying, that if I had slandered him, an innocent man, in church, from the pulpit, as the whole congregation could bear witness, I should doubtless find it easy to do as much here, before the court; not to mention that a father could, in no case, be a witness for his own child. But _Dom. Consul_ seemed quite confounded, and was silent, and leaned his head on the table, as in deep thought. Meanwhile the impudent constable began to finger his beard from under his arm; and _Dom. Consul_ thinking it was a fly, struck at him with his hand, without even looking up; but when he felt the constable his hand, he jumped up and asked him what he wanted? Whereupon the fellow answered, "Oh, only a louse was creeping there, and I would have caught it." At such impudence his worship was so exceeding wroth that he struck the constable on the mouth, and ordered him, on pain of heavy punishment, to leave the room. Hereupon he turned to the Sheriff, and cried, angrily, "Why, in the name of all the ten devils, is it thus your lordship keeps the constable in order? and truly, in this whole matter, there is something which passes my understanding." But the Sheriff answered, "Not so; should you not understand it all when you think upon the eels?" Hereat _Dom. Consul_ of a sudden turned ghastly pale, and began to tremble, as it appeared to me, and called the Sheriff aside into another chamber. I have never been able to learn what that about the eels could mean.-- Meanwhile _Dominus Camerarius_ Gebhard Wenzel sat biting his pen, and looking furiously--now at me, and now at my child, but said not a word; neither did he answer _Scriba_, who often whispered somewhat into his ear, save by a growl. At length both their worships came back into the chamber together, and _Dom. Consul_, after he and the Sheriff had seated themselves, began to reproach my poor child violently, saying that she had sought to make a disturbance in the worshipful court; that his lordship had shown him the very dog which had scratched his nose, and that, moreover, the fact had been sworn to by the old housekeeper. (Truly _she_ was not likely to betray him, for the old harlot had lived with him for years, and she had a good big boy by him, as will be seen hereafter.) _Item_, he said that so many _indicia_ of her guilt had come to light, that it was impossible to believe anything she might say; she was therefore to give glory to God, and openly to confess everything, so as to soften her punishment; whereby she might perchance, in pity for her youth, escape with life, etc. Hereupon he put his spectacles on his nose, and began to cross-question her, during near four hours, from a paper which he held in his hand. These were the main articles, as far as we both can remember: _Quaestio_. Whether she could bewitch? _Responsio_. No; she knew nothing of witchcraft. _Q_. Whether she could charm? _R_. Of that she knew as little. _Q_. Whether she had ever been on the Blocksberg? _R_. That was too far off for her; she knew few hills save the Streckelberg, where she had been very often. _Q_. What had she done there? _R_. She had looked out over the sea, or gathered flowers; _item_, at times carried home an apronful of dry brushwood. _Q_. Whether she had ever called upon the devil there? _R_. That had never come into her mind. _Q_. Whether, then, the devil had appeared to her there, uncalled? _R_. God defend her from such a thing. _Q_. So she could not bewitch? _R_. No. _Q_. What, then, befell Kit Zuter his spotted cow, that it suddenly died in her presence? _R_. She did not know; and that was a strange question. _Q_. Then it would be as strange a question, why Katie Berow her little pig had died? _R_. Assuredly; she wondered what they would lay to her charge. _Q_. Then she had not bewitched them? _R_. No; God forbid it. _Q_. Why, then, if she were innocent, had she promised old Katie another little pig, when her sow should litter? _R_. She did that out of kind-heartedness. (And hereupon she began to weep bitterly, and said she plainly saw that she had to thank old Lizzie Kolken for all this, inasmuch as she had often threatened her when she would not fulfil all her greedy desires, for she wanted everything that came in her way; moreover, that Lizzie had gone all about the village when the cattle were bewitched, persuading the people that if only a pure maid pulled a few hairs out of the beasts' tails they would get better. That she pitied them, and knowing herself to be a maid, went to help them; and indeed, at first it cured them, but latterly not.) _Q_. What cattle had she cured? _R_. Zabel his red cow; _item_, Witthan her pig, and old Lizzie's own cow. _Q_. Why could she afterwards cure them no more? _R_. She did not know, but thought--albeit she had no wish to fyle any one--that old Lizzie Kolken, who for many a long year had been in common repute as a witch, had done it all, and bewitched the cows in her name and then charmed them back again, as she pleased, only to bring her to misfortune. _Q_. Why, then, had old Lizzie bewitched her own cow, _item_, suffered her own pig to die, if it was she that had made all the disturbance in the village, and could really charm? _R_. She did not know; but belike there was some one (and here she looked at the Sheriff) who paid her double for it all. _Q_. It was in vain that she sought to shift the guilt from off herself; had she not bewitched old Paasch his crop, nay, even her own father's, and caused it to be trodden down by the devil, _item_, conjured all the caterpillars into her father's orchard? _R_. The question was almost as monstrous as the deed would have been. There sat her father, and his worship might ask him whether she ever had shown herself an undutiful child to him. (Hereupon I would have risen to speak, but _Dom. Consul_ suffered me not to open my mouth, but went on with his examination; whereupon I remained silent and downcast.) _Q_. Whether she did likewise deny that it was through her malice that the woman Witthan had given birth to a devil's imp, which straight-way started up and flew out at the window, so that when the midwife sought for it it had disappeared? _R_. Truly she did; and indeed she had all the days of her life done good to the people instead of harm, for during the terrible famine she had often taken the bread out of her own mouth to share it among the others, especially the little children. To this the whole parish must needs bear witness, if they were asked; whereas witches and warlocks always did evil and no good to men, as our Lord Jesus taught (Matt. xii.), when the Pharisees blasphemed him, saying that he cast out devils by Beelzebub the prince of the devils; hence his worship might see whether she could in truth be a witch. _Q_. He would soon teach her to talk of blasphemies; he saw that her tongue was well hung; but she must answer the questions he asked her, and say nothing more. The question was not _what_ good she had done to the poor, but _wherewithal_ she had done it; she must now show how she and her father had of a sudden grown so rich that she could go pranking about in silken raiment, whereas she used to be so very poor? Hereupon she looked towards me, and said, "Father, shall I tell?" Whereupon I answered, "Yes, my child, now thou must openly tell all, even though we thereby become beggars." She accordingly told how, when our need was sorest, she had found the amber, and how much we had gotten for it from the Dutch merchants. _Q_. What were the names of these merchants? _R_. Dieterich von Pehnen and Jakob Kiekebusch; but, as we have heard from a schipper, they since died of the plague at Stettin. _Q_. Why had we said nothing of such a godsend? _R_. Out of fear of our enemy the Sheriff, who, as it seemed, had condemned us to die of hunger, inasmuch as he forbade the parishioners, under pain of heavy displeasure, to supply us with anything, saying, that he would send them a better parson. Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again looked the Sheriff sharply in the face, who answered that it was true he had said this, seeing that the parson had preached at him in the most scandalous manner from the pulpit; but that he knew very well, at the time, that they were far enough from dying of hunger. _Q_. How came so much amber on the Streckelberg? She had best confess at once that the devil had brought it to her. _R_. She knew nothing about that. But there was a great vein of amber there, as she could show to them all that very day; and she had broken out the amber, and covered the hole well over with fir-twigs, so that none should find it. _Q_. When had she gone up the Streckelberg; by day or by night? _R_. Hereupon she blushed, and for a moment held her peace; but presently made answer, "Sometimes by day, and sometimes by night." _Q_. Why did she hesitate? She had better make a full confession of all, so that her punishment might be less heavy. Had she not there given over old Seden to Satan, who had carried him off through the air, and left only a part of his hair and brains sticking to the top of an oak? _R_. She did not know whether that was his hair and brains at all, nor how it came there. She went to the tree one morning because she heard a woodpecker cry so dolefully. _Item_, old Paasch, who also had heard the cries, came up with his axe in his hand. _Q_. Whether the woodpecker was not the devil himself, who had carried off old Seden? _R_. She did not know: but he must have been dead some time, seeing that the blood and brains which the lad fetched down out of the tree were quite dried up. _Q_. How and when, then, had he come by his death? _R_. That Almighty God only knew. But Zuter his little girl had said, that one day, while she gathered nettles for the cows under Seden his hedge, she heard the goodman threaten his squint-eyed wife that he would tell the parson that he now knew of a certainty that she had a familiar spirit; whereupon the goodman had presently disappeared. But that this was a child's tale, and she would fyle no one on the strength of it. Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again looked the Sheriff steadily in the face, and said, "Old Lizzie Kolken must be brought before us this very day": whereto the Sheriff made no answer; and he went on to ask, _Q_. Whether, then, she still maintained that she knew nothing of the devil? _R_. She maintained it now, and would maintain it until her life's end. _Q_. And nevertheless, as had been seen by witnesses, she had been re-baptized by him in the sea in broad daylight.--Here again she blushed, and for a moment was silent. _Q_. Why did she blush again? She should for God his sake think on her salvation, and confess the truth. _R_. She had bathed herself in the sea, seeing that the day was very hot; that was the whole truth. _Q_. What chaste maiden would ever bathe in the sea? Thou liest; or wilt thou even yet deny that thou didst bewitch old Paasch his little girl with a white roll? _R_. Alas! alas! she loved the child as though it were her own little sister; not only had she taught her as well as all the other children without reward, but during the heavy famine she had often taken the bit from her own mouth to put it into the little child's. How, then, could she have wished to do her such grievous harm? _Q_. Wilt thou even yet deny?--Reverend Abraham, how stubborn is your child! See here, is this no witches' salve, which the constable fetched out of thy coffer last night? Is this no witches' salve, eh? _R_. It was a salve for the skin, which would make it soft and white, as the apothecary at Wolgast had told her, of whom she bought it. _Q_. Hereupon he shook his head, and went on: How! wilt thou then lastly deny that on this last Saturday the both July, at twelve o'clock at night, thou didst on the Streckelberg call upon thy paramour the devil in dreadful words, whereupon he appeared to thee in the shape of a great hairy giant, and clipped thee and toyed with thee? At these words she grew more pale than a corpse, and tottered so that she was forced to hold by a chair: and I, wretched man, who would readily have sworn away my life for her, when I saw and heard this, my senses forsook me, so that I fell down from the bench, and _Dom. Consul_ had to call in the constable to help me up. When I had come to myself a little, and the impudent varlet saw our common consternation, he cried out, grinning at the court the while, 'Is it all out? is it all out? has she confessed?' Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ again showed him the door with a sharp rebuke, as might have been expected; and it is said that this knave played the pimp for the Sheriff, and indeed I think he would not otherwise have been so bold. _Summa_: I should well-nigh have perished in my distress, but for the little rose, which by the help of God's mercy kept me up bravely; and now the whole court rose and exhorted my poor fainting child, by the living God, and as she would save her soul, to deny no longer, but in pity to herself and her father to confess the truth. [Illustration: The Apparition on the Streckelberg] Hereupon she heaved a deep sigh, and grew as red as she had been pale before, insomuch that even her hand upon the chair was like scarlet, and she did not raise her eyes from the ground. _R_. She would now then confess the simple truth, as she saw right well that wicked people had stolen after and watched her at nights. That she had been to seek for amber on the mountain, and that to drive away fear she had, as she was wont to do at her work, recited the Latin _carmen_ which her father had made on the illustrious King Gustavus Adolphus: when young Rüdiger of Nienkerken, who had ofttimes been at her father's house and talked of love to her, came out of the coppice, and when she cried out for fear, spoke to her in Latin, and clasped her in his arms. That he wore a great wolf's-skin coat, so that folks should not know him if they met him, and tell the lord his father that he had been on the mountain by night. At this her confession I fell into sheer despair, and cried in great wrath, "O thou ungodly and undutiful child, after all, then, thou hast a paramour! Did not I forbid thee to go up the mountain by night? What didst thou want on the mountain by night?" and I began to moan and weep and wring my hands, so that _Dom. Consul_ even had pity on me, and drew near to comfort me. Meanwhile she herself came towards me, and began to defend herself, saying, with many tears, that she had gone up the mountain by night, against my commands, to get so much amber that she might secretly buy for me, against my birthday, the _Opera Sancti Augustim_, which the Cantor at Wolgast wanted to sell. That it was not her fault that the young lord lay in wait for her one night; and that she would swear to me, by the living God, that nought that was unseemly had happened between them there, and that she was still a maid. And herewith the first hearing was at end, for after _Dom. Consul_ had whispered somewhat into the ear of the Sheriff, he called in the constable again, and bade him keep good watch over _Rea_; _item_, not to leave her at large in her dungeon any longer, but to put her in chains. These words pierced my very heart, and I besought his worship to consider my sacred office, and my ancient noble birth, and not to do me such dishonour as to put my daughter in chains. That I would answer for her to the worshipful court with my own head that she would not escape. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_, after he had gone to look at the dungeon himself, granted me my request, and commanded the constable to leave her as she had been hitherto. _The Nineteenth Chapter_ HOW SATAN, BY THE PERMISSION OF THE MOST RIGHTEOUS GOD, SOUGHT ALTOGETHER TO RUIN US, AND HOW WE LOST ALL HOPE The same day, at about three in the afternoon, when I was gone to Conrad Seep his alehouse to eat something, seeing that it was now nearly two days since I had tasted aught save my tears, and he had placed before me some bread and sausage, together with a mug of beer, the constable came into the room and greeted me from the Sheriff, without, however, so much as touching his cap, asking whether I would not dine with his lordship; that his lordship had not remembered till now that I belike was still fasting, seeing the trial had lasted so long. Hereupon I made answer to the constable that I already had my dinner before me, as he saw himself, and desired that his lordship would hold me excused. Hereat the fellow wondered greatly, and answered; did I not see that his lordship wished me well, albeit I had preached at him as though he were a Jew? I should think on my daughter, and be somewhat more ready to do his lordship's will, whereby peradventure all would yet end well. For his lordship was not such a rough ass as _Dom. Consul_, and meant well by my child and me, as beseemed a righteous magistrate. After I had with some trouble rid myself of this impudent fox, I tried to eat a bit, but nothing would go down save the beer. I therefore soon sat and thought again whether I would not lodge with Conrad Seep, so as to be always near my child; _item_, whether I should not hand over my poor misguided flock to M. Vigelius, the pastor of Benz, for such time as the Lord still should prove me. In about an hour I saw through the window how that an empty coach drove to the castle, and the Sheriff and _Dom. Consul_ straightway stepped thereinto with my child; _item_, the constable climbed up behind. Hereupon I left everything on the table and ran to the coach, asking humbly whither they were about to take my poor child; and when I heard they were going to the Streckelberg to look after the amber, I begged them to take me also, and to suffer me to sit by my child, for who could tell how much longer I might yet sit by her! This was granted to me, and on the way the Sheriff ordered me to take up my abode in the castle and to dine at his table as often as I pleased, and that he would, moreover, send my child her meat from his own table. For that he had a Christian heart, and well knew that we were to forgive our enemies. But I refused his kindness with humble thanks, as my child did also, seeing we were not yet so poor that we could not maintain ourselves. As we passed by the watermill the ungodly varlet there again thrust his head out of a hole and pulled wry faces at my child; but, dear reader, he got something to remember it by; for the Sheriff beckoned to the constable to fetch the fellow out, and after he had reproached him with the tricks he had twice played my child, the constable had to take the coachman his new whip and to give him fifty lashes, which, God knows, were not laid on with a feather. He bellowed like a bull, which, however, no one heard for the noise of the mill-wheels, and when at last he did as though he could not stir, we left him lying on the ground and went on our way. As we drove through Uekeritze a number of people flocked together, but were quiet enough, save one fellow who, _salvâ veniâ_, mocked at us with unseemly gestures in the midst of the road when he saw us coming. The constable had to jump down again, but could not catch him, and the others would not give him up, but pretended that they had only looked at our coach and had not marked him. May be this was true! And I am therefore inclined to think that it was Satan himself who did it to mock at us; for mark, for God's sake, what happened to us on the Streckelberg! Alas! through the delusions of the foul fiend, we could not find the spot where we had dug for the amber. For when we came to where we thought it must be, a huge hill of sand had been heaped up as by a whirlwind, and the fir-twigs which my child had covered over it were gone. She was near falling in a swound when she saw this, and wrung her hands and cried out with her Saviour, "My God, my God! why hast thou forsaken me!" Howbeit, the constable and the coachman were ordered to dig, but not one bit of amber was to be found, even so big as a grain of corn, whereupon _Dom. Consul_ shook his head and violently upbraided my child. And when I answered that Satan himself, as it seemed, had filled up the hollow in order to bring us altogether into his power, the constable was ordered to fetch a long stake out of the coppice which we might thrust still deeper into the sand. But no hard _objectum_ was anywhere to be felt, notwithstanding the Sheriff, _Dom. Consul_, and myself in my anguish did try everywhere with the stake. Hereupon my child besought her judges to go with her to Coserow, where she still had much amber in her coffer which she had found here, and that if it were the gift of the devil it would all be changed, since it was well known that all the presents the devil makes to witches straightway turn to mud and ashes. But, God be merciful to us, God be merciful to us! when we returned to Coserow, amid the wonderment of all the village, and my daughter went to her coffer, the things therein were all tossed about, and the amber gone. Hereupon she shrieked so loud that it would have softened a stone, and cried out: "The wicked constable hath done this! when he fetched the salve out of my coffer, he stole the amber from me, unhappy maid." But the constable, who stood by, would have torn her hair, and cried out, "Thou witch, thou damned witch, is it not enough that thou hast belied my lord, but thou must now belie me too?" But _Dom. Consul_ forbade him, so that he did not dare lay hands upon her. _Item_, all the money was gone which she had hoarded up from the amber she had privately sold, and which she thought already came to about ten florins. But the gown which she had worn at the arrival of the most illustrious King Gustavus Adolphus, as well as the golden chain with his effigy which he had given her, I had locked up, as though it were a relic, in the chest in the vestry, among the altar and pulpit cloths, and there we found them still; and when I excused myself therefore, saying that I had thought to have saved them up for her there against her bridal day, she gazed with fixed and glazed eyes into the box, and cried out, "Yes, against the day when I shall be burnt; O Jesu, Jesu, Jesu!" Hereat _Dom. Consul_ shuddered and said, "See how thou still dost smite thyself with thine own words! For the sake of God and thy salvation, confess, for if thou knowest thyself to be innocent, how, then, canst thou think that thou wilt be burnt?" But she still looked him fixedly in the face, and cried aloud in Latin, "_Innocentia, quid est innocentia? Ubi libido dominatur, innocentia leve praesidium est_." Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again shuddered, so that his beard wagged, and said, "What, dost thou indeed know Latin? Where didst thou learn the Latin?" And when I answered this question as well as I was able for sobbing, he shook his head and said, "I never in my life heard of a woman that knew Latin." Upon this he knelt down before her coffer, and turned over everything therein, drew it away from the wall, and when he found nothing he bade us show him her bed, and did the same with that. This, at length, vexed the Sheriff, who asked him whether they should not drive back again, seeing that night was coming on. But he answered, "Nay, I must first have the written paction which Satan has given her"; and he went on with his search until it was almost dark. But they found nothing at all, although _Dom. Consul_, together with the constable, passed over no hole or corner, even in the kitchen and cellar. Hereupon he got up again into the coach, muttering to himself, and bade my daughter sit so that she should not look upon him. And now we once more had the same _spectaculum_ with the accursed old witch Lizzie Kolken, seeing that she again sat at her door as we drove by, and began to sing at the top of her voice, "We praise thee, O Lord." But she screeched like a stuck pig, so that _Dom. Consul_ was amazed thereat, and when he had heard who she was, he asked the Sheriff whether he would not that she should be seized by the constable and be tied behind the coach to run after it, as we had no room for her elsewhere; for that he had often been told that all old women who had red squinting eyes and sharp voices were witches, not to mention the suspicious things which _Rea_ had declared against her. But he answered that he could not do this, seeing that old Lizzie was a woman in good repute and fearing God as _Dom. Consul_ might learn for himself; but that, nevertheless, he had had her summoned for the morrow, together with the other witnesses. Yea, in truth, an excellently devout and worthy woman!--for scarcely were we out of the village, when so fearful a storm of thunder, lightning, wind, and hail burst over our heads, that the corn all around us was beaten down as with a flail, and the horses before the coach were quite maddened; however, it did not last long. But my poor child had to bear all the blame again, inasmuch as _Dom. Consul_ thought that it was not old Lizzie, which, nevertheless, was as clear as the sun at noonday! but my poor daughter who brewed the storm;--for, beloved reader, what could it have profited her, even if she had known the black art? This, however, did not strike _Dom. Consul_, and Satan, by the permission of the all-righteous God, was presently to use us still worse; for just as we got to the Master's Dam, he came flying over us in the shape of a stork, and dropped a frog so exactly over us that it fell into my daughter her lap: she gave a shrill scream, but I whispered her to sit still, and that I would secretly throw the frog away by one leg. But the constable had seen it, and cried out, "Hey, sirs! hey, look at the cursed witch! what has the devil just thrown into her lap?" Whereupon the Sheriff and _Dom. Consul_ looked round and saw the frog, which crawled in her lap, and the constable after he had blown upon it three times, took it up and showed it to their lordships. Hereat _Dom. Consul_ began to spew, and when he had done, he ordered the coachman to stop, got down from the coach, and said we might drive home, that he felt qualmish, and would go afoot and see if he got better. But first he privately whispered to the constable, which, howbeit, we heard right well, that when he got home he should lay my poor child in chains, but not so as to hurt her much; to which neither she nor I could answer save by tears and sobs. But the Sheriff had heard it too, and when his worship was out of sight he began to stroke my child her cheeks from behind her back, telling her to be easy, as he also had a word to say in the matter, and that the constable should not lay her in chains. But that she must leave off being so hard to him as she had been hitherto, and come and sit on the seat beside him, that he might privately give her some good advice as to what was to be done. To this she answered, with many tears, that she wished to sit only by her father, as she knew not how much longer she might sit by him at all; and she begged for nothing more save that his lordship would leave her in peace. But this he would not do, but pinched her back and sides with his knees; and as she bore with this, seeing that there was no help for it, he waxed bolder, taking it for a good sign. Meanwhile _Dom. Consul_ called out close behind us (for being frightened he ran just after the coach), "Constable, constable, come here quick; here lies a hedgehog in the midst of the road!" whereupon the constable jumped down from the coach. This made the Sheriff still bolder; and at last my child rose up and said, "Father, let us also go afoot; I can no longer guard myself from him here behind!" But he pulled her down again by her clothes, and cried out angrily, "Wait, thou wicked witch, I will help thee to go afoot if thou art so wilful; thou shalt be chained to the block this very night." Whereupon she answered, "Do you do that which you cannot help doing; the righteous God, it is to be hoped, will one day do unto you what He cannot help doing." Meanwhile we had reached the castle, and scarcely were we got out of the coach, when _Dom. Consul_, who had run till he was all of a sweat, came up together with the constable, and straightway gave over my child into his charge, so that I had scarce time to bid her farewell. I was left standing on the floor below, wringing my hands in the dark, and hearkened whither they were leading her, inasmuch as I had not the heart to follow, when _Dom. Consul_, who had stepped into a room with the Sheriff, looked out at the door again, and called after the constable to bring _Rea_ once more before them. And when he had done so, and I went into the room with them, _Dom. Consul_ held a letter in his hand, and, after spitting thrice, he began thus: "Wilt thou still deny, thou stubborn witch? Hear what the old knight, Hans von Nienkerken, writes to the court!" Whereupon he read out to us that his son was so disturbed by the tale the accursed witch had told of him that he had fallen sick from that very hour, and that he, the father, was not much better. That his son Rüdiger had indeed at times, when he went that way, been to see Pastor Schweidler, whom he had first known upon a journey; but that he swore that he wished he might turn black if he had ever used any folly or jesting with the cursed devil's whore his daughter; much less ever been with her by night on the Streckelberg, or embraced her there. At this dreadful news we both (I mean my child and I) fell down in a swound together, seeing that we had rested our last hopes on the young lord; and I know not what further happened. For when I came to myself, my host, Conrad Seep, was standing over me, holding a funnel between my teeth, through which he ladled some warm beer down my throat, and I never felt more wretched in all my life; insomuch that Master Seep had to undress me like a little child, and to help me into bed. _The Twentieth Chapter_ OF THE MALICE OF THE GOVERNOR AND OF OLD LIZZIE: _ITEM_, OF THE EXAMINATION OF WITNESSES The next morning my hairs, which till _datum_ had been mingled with grey, were white as snow, albeit the Lord otherwise blessed me wondrously. For near daybreak a nightingale flew into the elder-bush beneath my window, and sang so sweetly that straightway I thought it must be a good angel. For after I had hearkened a while to it, I was all at once able again to pray, which since last Sunday I could not do; and the spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ began to speak within me, "Abba, Father"; and straightway I was of good cheer, trusting that God would once more be gracious unto me his wretched child; and when I had given him thanks for such great mercy, I fell into a refreshing slumber, and slept so long that the blessed sun stood high in the heavens when I awoke. And seeing that my heart was still of good cheer, I sat up in my bed, and sang with a loud voice, "Be not dismayed, thou little flock": whereupon Master Seep came into the room, thinking I had called him. But he stood reverently waiting till I had done; and after marvelling at my snow-white hair, he told me it was already seven; _item_, that half my congregation, among others my ploughman, Claus Neels, were already assembled in his house to bear witness that day. When I heard this, I bade mine host forthwith send Claus to the castle, to ask when the court would open, and he brought word back that no one knew, seeing that _Dom. Consul_ was already gone that morning to Mellenthin to see old Nienkerken, and was not yet come back. This message gave me good courage, and I asked the fellow whether he also had come to bear witness against my poor child? To which he answered, "Nay, I know nought save good of her, and I would give the fellows their due, only--" These words surprised me, and I vehemently urged him to open his heart to me. But he began to weep, and at last said that he knew nothing. Alas! he knew but too much, and could then have saved my poor child if he had willed. But from fear of the torture he held his peace, as he since owned; and I will here relate what had befallen him that very morning. He had set out betimes that morning, so as to be alone with his sweetheart, who was to go along with him (she is Steffen of Zempin his daughter, not farmer Steffen, but the lame gouty Steffen), and had got to Pudgla about five, where he found no one in the ale-house save old Lizzie Kolken, who straightway hobbled up to the castle; and when his sweetheart was gone home again, time hung heavy on his hands, and he climbed over the wall into the castle garden, where he threw himself on his face behind a hedge to sleep. But before long the Sheriff came with old Lizzie, and after they had looked all round and seen no one, they went into an arbour close by him, and conversed as follows:-- _Ille_. Now that they were alone together, what did she want of him? _Illa_. She came to get the money for the witchcraft she had contrived in the village. _Ille_. Of what use had all this witchcraft been to him? My child, so far from being frightened, defied him more and more; and he doubted whether he should ever have his will of her. _Illa_. He should only have patience; when she was laid upon the rack she would soon learn to be fond. _Ille_. That might be, but till then she (Lizzie) should get no money. _Illa_. What! Must she then do his cattle a mischief? _Ille_. Yes, if she felt chilly, and wanted a burning fagot to warm her _podex_, she had better. Moreover, he thought that she had bewitched him, seeing that his desire for the parson's daughter was such as he had never felt before. _Illa_. (Laughing.) He had said the same thing some thirty years ago, when he first came after her. _Ille_. Ugh! thou old baggage, don't remind me of such things, but see to it that you get three witnesses, as I told you before, or else methinks they will rack your old joints for you after all. _Illa_. She had the three witnesses ready, and would leave the rest to him. But that if she were racked she would reveal all she knew. _Ille_. She should hold her ugly tongue, and go to the devil. _Illa_. So she would, but first she must have her money. _Ille_. She should have no money till he had had his will of my daughter. _Illa_. He might at least pay her for her little pig which she herself had bewitched to death, in order that she might not get into evil repute. _Ille_. She might choose one when his pigs were driven by, and say she had paid for it. Hereupon, said my Claus, the pigs were driven by, and one ran into the garden, the door being open, and as the swineherd followed it, they parted; but the witch muttered to herself, "Now help, devil, help, that I may--" but he heard no further. The cowardly fellow, however, hid all this from me, as I have said above, and only said, with tears, that he knew nothing. I believed him, and sat down at the window to see when _Dom. Consul_ should return; and when I saw him I rose and went to the castle, where the constable, who was already there with my child, met me before the judgment-chamber. Alas! she looked more joyful than I had seen her for a long time, and smiled at me with her sweet little mouth: but when she saw my snow-white hair, she gave a cry, which made _Dom. Consul_ throw open the door of the judgment-chamber, and say, "Ha, ha! thou knowest well what news I have brought thee; come in, thou stubborn devil's brat!" Whereupon we stepped into the chamber to him, and he lift up his voice and spake to me, after he had sat down with the Sheriff, who was by. He said that yestereven, after he had caused me to be carried like one dead to Master Seep his ale-house, and that my stubborn child had been brought to life again, he had once more adjured her, to the utmost of his power, no longer to lie before the face of the living God, but to confess the truth; whereupon she had borne herself very unruly, and had wrung her hands and wept and sobbed, and at last answered that the young _nobilis_ never could have said such things, but that his father must have written them, who hated her, as she had plainly seen when the Swedish king was at Coserow. That he, _Dom. Consul_, had indeed doubted the truth of this at the time, but as a just judge had gone that morning right early with the _scriba_ to Mellenthin, to question the young lord himself. That I might now see myself what horrible malice was in my daughter. For that the old knight had led him to his son's bedside, who still lay sick from vexation, and that he had confirmed all his father had written, and had cursed the scandalous she-devil (as he called my daughter) for seeking to rob him of his knightly honour. "What sayest thou now?" he continued; "wilt thou still deny thy great wickedness? See here the _protocollum_ which the young lord hath signed _manu propriâ_!" But the wretched maid had meanwhile fallen on the ground again, and the constable had no sooner seen this than he ran into the kitchen, and came back with a burning brimstone match, which he was about to hold under her nose. But I hindered him, and sprinkled her face with water, so that she opened her eyes, and raised herself up by a table. She then stood a while, without saying a word or regarding my sorrow. At last she smiled sadly, and spake thus: That she clearly saw how true was that spoken by the Holy Ghost, "Cursed be the man that trusteth in man"; and that the faithlessness of the young lord had surely broken her poor heart if the all-merciful God had not graciously prevented him, and sent her a dream that night, which she would tell, not hoping to persuade the judges, but to raise up the white head of her poor father. "After I had sat and watched all the night," quoth she, "towards morning I heard a nightingale sing in the castle-garden so sweetly that my eyes closed, and I slept. Then methought I was a lamb, grazing quietly in my meadow at Coserow. Suddenly the Sheriff jumped over the hedge and turned into a wolf, who seized me in his jaws, and ran with me towards the Streckelberg, where he had his lair. I, poor little lamb, trembled and bleated in vain, and saw death before my eyes, when he laid me down before his lair, where lay the she-wolf and her young. But behold a hand, like the hand of a man, straightway came out of the bushes and touched the wolves, each one with one finger, and crushed them so that nought was left of them save a grey powder. Hereupon the hand took me up, and carried me back to my meadow." Only think, beloved reader, how I felt when I heard all this, and about the dear nightingale too, which no one can doubt to have been the servant of God. I clasped my child with many tears, and told her what had happened to me, and we both won such courage and confidence as we had never yet felt, to the wonderment of _Dom. Consul_, as it seemed; but the Sheriff turned as pale as a sheet when she stepped towards their worships and said, "And now do with me as you will, the lamb fears not, for she is in the hands of the Good Shepherd!" Meanwhile _Dom. Camerarius_ came in with the _scriba_, but was terrified as he chanced to touch my daughter's apron with the skirts of his coat; and stood and scraped at his coat as a woman scrapes a fish. At last, after he had spat out thrice, he asked the court whether it would not begin to examine witnesses, seeing that all the people had been waiting some time both in the castle and at the ale-house. Hereunto they agreed, and the constable was ordered to guard my child in his room, until it should please the court to summon her. I therefore went with her, but, we had to endure much from the impudent rogue, seeing he was not ashamed to lay his arm round my child her shoulders and to ask for a kiss _in meâ presentiâ_. But, before I could get out a word, she tore herself from him, and said, "Ah, thou wicked knave, must I complain of thee to the court; hast thou forgotten what thou hast already done to me?" To which, he answered, laughing, "See, see! how coy"; and still sought to persuade her to be more willing, and not to forget her own interest; for that he meant as well by her as his master; she might believe it or not; with many other scandalous words besides which I have forgot; for I took my child upon my knees and laid my head on her neck, and we sat and wept. _The Twenty-first Chapter_ DE CONFRONTATIONE TESTIUM When we were summoned before the court again, the whole court was full of people, and some shuddered when they saw us, but others wept; my child told the same tale as before. But when our old Ilse was called, who sat on a bench behind, so that we had not seen her, the strength wherewith the Lord had gifted her was again at an end, and she repeated the words of our Saviour, "He that eateth bread with me hath lift up his heel against me": and she held fast by my chair. Old Ilse, too, could not walk straight for very grief, nor could she speak for tears, but she twisted and wound herself about before the court like a woman in travail. But when Dom. Consul threatened that the constable should presently help her to her words, she testified that my child had very often got up in the night and called aloud upon the foul fiend. _Q_. Whether she had ever heard Satan answer her? _R_. She never had heard him at all. _Q_. Whether she had perceived that _Rea_ had a familiar spirit, and in what shape? She should think upon her oath, and speak the truth. _R_. She had never seen one. _Q_. Whether she had ever heard her fly up the chimney? _R_. Nay, she had always gone softly out at the door. _Q_. Whether she never at mornings had missed her broom or pitch-fork? _R_. Once the broom was gone, but she had found it again behind the stove, and may be left it there herself by mistake. _Q_. Whether she had never heard _Rea_ cast a spell or wish harm to this or that person? _R_. No, never; she had always wished her neighbours nothing but good, and even in the time of bitter famine had taken the bread out of her own mouth to give it to others. _Q_. Whether she did not know the salve which had been found in _Rea_ her coffer? _R_. Oh, yes! her young mistress had brought it back from Wolgast for her skin, and had once given her some when she had chapped hands, and it had done her a vast deal of good. _Q_. Whether she had anything further to say? _R_. No, nothing but good. Hereupon my man Claus Neels was called up. He also came forward in tears, but answered every question with a "Nay," and at last testified that he had never seen nor heard anything bad of my child, and knew nought of her doings by night, seeing that he slept in the stable with the horses; and that he firmly believed that evil folks--and here he looked at old Lizzie--had brought this misfortune upon her, and that she was quite innocent. When it came to the turn of this old limb of Satan, who was to be the chief witness, my child again declared that she would not accept old Lizzie's testimony against her, and called upon the court for justice, for that she had hated her from her youth up, and had been longer by habit and repute a witch than she herself. But the old hag cried out, "God forgive thee thy sins; the whole village knows that I am a devout woman, and one serving the Lord in all things"; whereupon she called up old Zuter Witthahn and my church-warden Claus Bulk, who bore witness hereto. But old Paasch stood and shook his head; nevertheless when my child said, "Paasch, wherefore dost thou shake thy head?" he started, and answered, "Oh, nothing!" Howbeit, _Dom. Consul_ likewise perceived this, and asked him, whether he had any charge to bring against old Lizzie; if so, he should give glory to God, and state the same; _item_, it was competent to every one so to do; indeed the court required of him to speak out all he knew. But from fear of the old dragon, all were still as mice, so that you might have heard the flies buzz about the inkstand. I then stood up, wretched as I was, and stretched out my arms over my amazed and faint-hearted people and spake, "Can ye thus crucify me together with my poor child? Have I deserved this at your hands? Speak, then; alas, will none speak?" I heard, indeed, how several wept aloud, but not one spake; and hereupon my poor child was forced to submit. And the malice of the old hag was such that she not only accused my child of the most horrible witchcraft, but also reckoned to a day when she had given herself up to Satan to rob her of her maiden honour; and she said that Satan had, without doubt, then defiled her when she could no longer heal the cattle, and when they all died. Hereupon my child said nought, save that she cast down her eyes and blushed deep, for shame at such filthiness; and to the other blasphemous slander which the old hag uttered with many tears, namely, that my daughter had given up her (Lizzie's) husband, body and soul, to Satan, she answered as she had done before. But when the old hag came to her re-baptism in the sea, and gave out that while seeking for strawberries in the coppice she had recognised my child's voice, and stolen towards her, and perceived these devil's doings, my child fell in smiling, and answered, "Oh, thou evil woman! how couldst thou hear my voice speaking down by the sea, being thyself in the forest upon the mountain? surely thou liest, seeing that the murmur of the waves would make that impossible." This angered the old dragon, and seeking to get out of the blunder she fell still deeper into it, for she said, "I saw thee move thy lips, and from that I knew that thou didst call upon thy paramour the devil!" for my child straight-way replied, "Oh, thou ungodly woman! thou saidst thou wert in the forest when thou didst hear my voice; how then up in the forest couldst thou see whether I, who was below by the water, moved my lips or not?"-- Such contradictions amazed even _Dom. Consul_, and he began to threaten the old hag with the rack if she told such lies; whereupon she answered and said, "List, then, whether I lie! When she went naked into the water she had no mark on her body, but when she came out again I saw that she had between her breasts a mark the size of a silver penny, whence I perceived that the devil had given it her, although I had not seen him about her, nor, indeed, had I seen any one, either spirit or child of man, for she seemed to be quite alone." Hereupon the Sheriff jumped up from his seat, and cried, "Search must straightway be made for this mark"; whereupon _Dom. Consul_ answered, "Yea, but not by us, but by two women of good repute," for he would not hearken to what my child said, that it was a mole, and that she had had it from her youth up, wherefore the constable his wife was sent for, and _Dom. Consul_ muttered somewhat into her ear, and as prayers and tears were of no avail, my child was forced to go with her. Howbeit, she obtained this favour, that old Lizzie Kolken was not to follow her, as she would have done, but our old maid Ilse. I, too, went in my sorrow, seeing that I knew not what the women might do to her. She wept bitterly as they undressed her, and held her hands over her eyes for very shame. Well-a-day, her body was just as white as my departed wife's; although in her childhood, as I remember, she was very yellow, and I saw with amazement the mole between her breasts, whereof I had never heard aught before. But she suddenly screamed violently and started back, seeing that the constable his wife, when nobody watched her, had run a needle into the mole, so deep that the red blood ran down over her breasts. I was sorely angered thereat, but the woman said that she had done it by order of the judge, which, indeed, was true; for when we came back into court, and the Sheriff asked how it was, she testified that there was a mark of the size of a silver penny, of a yellowish colour, but that it had feeling, seeing that _Rea_ had screamed aloud when she had, unperceived, driven a needle therein. Meanwhile, however, _Dom. Camerarius_ suddenly rose, and, stepping up to my child, drew her eyelids asunder, and cried out, beginning to tremble, "Behold the sign which never fails": whereupon the whole court started to their feet, and looked at the little spot under her right eyelid, which in truth had been left there by a stye, but this none would believe. _Dom. Consul_ now said, "See, Satan hath marked thee on body and soul! and thou dost still continue to lie unto the Holy Ghost; but it shall not avail thee, and thy punishment will only be the heavier. Oh, thou shameless woman! thou hast refused to accept the testimony of old Lizzie; wilt thou also refuse that of these people, who have all heard thee on the mountain call upon the devil thy paramour, and seen him appear in the likeness of a hairy giant, and kiss and caress thee?" Hereupon old Paasch, goodwife Witthahn, and Zuter came forward and bare witness, that they had seen this happen about midnight, and that on this declaration they would live and die; that old Lizzie had awakened them one Saturday night about eleven o'clock, had given them a can of beer, and persuaded them to follow the parson's daughter privately, and to see what she did upon the mountain. At first they refused but in order to get at the truth about the witchcraft in the village, they had at last, after a devout prayer, consented, and had followed her in God's name. They had soon through the bushes seen the witch in the moonshine; she seemed to dig, and spake in some strange tongue the while, whereupon the grim arch-fiend suddenly appeared, and fell upon her neck. Hereupon they ran away in consternation, but, by the help of the Almighty God, on whom from the very first they had set their faith, they were preserved from the power of the Evil One. For, notwithstanding he had turned round on hearing a rustling in the bushes, he had had no power to harm them. Finally, it was even charged to my child as a crime, that she had fainted on the road from Coserow to Pudgla, and none would believe that this had been caused by vexation at old Lizzie her singing, and not from a bad conscience, as stated by the judge. When all the witnesses had been examined, _Dom. Consul_ asked her whether she had brewed the storm, what was the meaning of the frog that dropped into her lap, _item_, the hedgehog which lay directly in his path? To all of which she answered, that she had caused the one as little as she knew of the other. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ shook his head, and asked her, last of all, whether she would have an advocate, or trust entirely in the good judgment of the court. To this she gave answer that she would by all means have an advocate. Wherefore I sent my ploughman, Claus Neels, the next day to Wolgast to fetch the _Syndicus_ Michelsen, who is a worthy man, and in whose house I have been many times when I went to the town, seeing that he courteously invited me. I must also note here that at this time my old Ilse came back to live with me; for after the witnesses were gone she stayed behind in the chamber, and came boldly up to me, and besought me to suffer her once more to serve her old master and her dear young mistress; for that now she had saved her poor soul, and confessed all she knew. Wherefore she could no longer bear to see her old masters in such woeful plight, without so much as a mouthful of victuals, seeing that she had heard that old wife Seep, who had till _datum_ prepared the food for me and my child, often let the porridge burn; _item_, oversalted the fish and the meat. Moreover, that I was so weakened by age and misery, that I needed help and support, which she would faithfully give me, and was ready to sleep in the stable, if needs must be; that she wanted no wages for it, I was only not to turn her away. Such kindness made my daughter to weep, and she said to me, "Behold, father, the good folks come back to us again; think you, then, that the good angels will forsake us for ever? I thank thee, old Use; thou shall indeed prepare my food for me, and always bring it as far as the prison-door, if thou mayest come no further; and mark, then, I pray thee, what the constable does therewith." This the maid promised to do, and from this time forth took up her abode in the stable. May God repay her at the day of judgment for what she then did for me and for my poor child! _The Twenty-second Chapter_ HOW THE _SYNDICUS DOM._ MICHELSEN ARRIVED AND PREPARED HIS DEFENCE OF MY POOR CHILD The next day, at about three o'clock P.M., _Dom. Syndicus_ came driving up, and got out of his coach at my inn. He had a huge bag full of books with him, but was not so friendly in his manner as was usual with him, but very grave and silent. And after he had saluted me in my own room, and had asked how it was possible for my child to have come to such misfortune, I related to him the whole affair, whereat, however, he only shook his head. On my asking him whether he would not see my child that same day, he answered, "Nay"; he would rather first study the _acta_. And after he had eaten of some wild duck-which my old Ilse had roasted for him, he would tarry no longer, but straightway went up to the castle, whence he did not return till the following afternoon. His manner was not more friendly now than at his first coming, and I followed him with sighs when he asked me to lead him to my daughter. As we went in with the constable, and I, for the first time, saw my child in chains before me--she who in her whole life had never hurt a worm--I again felt as though I should die for very grief. But she smiled and cried out to _Dom. Syndicus_, "Are you indeed the good angel who will cause my chains to fall from my hands, as was done of yore to St. Peter?" To which he replied, with a sigh, "May the Almighty God grant it"; and as, save the chair whereon my child sat against the wall, there was none other in the dungeon (which was a filthy and stinking hole, wherein were more wood-lice than ever I saw in my life), _Dom. Syndicus_ and I sat down on her bed, which had been left for her at my prayer; and he ordered the constable to go his ways until he should call him back. Hereupon he asked my child what she had to say in her justification; and she had not gone far in her defence when I perceived, from the shadow at the door, that some one must be standing without. I therefore went quickly to the door, which was half open, and found the impudent constable, who stood there to listen. This so angered _Dom. Syndicus_ that he snatched up his staff in order to hasten his going, but the arch-rogue took to his heels as soon as he saw this. My child took this opportunity to tell her worshipful defensor what she had suffered from the impudence of this fellow, and to beg that some other constable might be set over her, seeing that this one had come to her last night again with evil designs, so that she at last had shrieked aloud and beaten him on the head with her chains; whereupon he had left her. This _Dom. Syndicus_ promised to obtain for her; but with regard to the _defensio_, wherewith she now went on, he thought it would be better to make no further mention of the _impetus_ which the Sheriff had made on her chastity. "For," said he, "as the princely central court at Wolgast has to give sentence upon thee, this statement would do thee far more harm than good, seeing that the _praeses_ thereof is a cousin of the Sheriff, and ofttimes goes a-hunting with him. Besides, thou being charged with a capital crime hast no _fides_, especially as thou canst bring no witnesses against him. Thou couldst, therefore, gain no belief even if thou didst confirm the charge on the rack, wherefrom, moreover, I am come hither to save thee by my _defensio_." These reasons seemed sufficient to us both, and we resolved to leave vengeance to Almighty God, who seeth in secret, and to complain of our wrongs to him, as we might not complain to men. But all my daughter said about old Lizzie--_item_, of the good report wherein she herself had, till now, stood with everybody--he said he would write down, and add thereunto as much and as well of his own as he was able, so as, by the help of Almighty God, to save her from the torture. That she was to make herself easy and commend herself to God; within two days he hoped to have his _defensio_ ready and to read it to her. And now, when he called the constable back again, the fellow did not come, but sent his wife to lock the prison, and I took leave of my child with many tears: _Dom. Syndicus_ told the woman the while what her impudent rogue of a husband had done, that she might let him hear more of it. Then he sent the woman away again and came back to my daughter, saying that he had forgotten to ascertain whether she really knew the Latin tongue, and that she was to say her _defensio_ over again in Latin, if she was able. Hereupon she began and went on therewith for a quarter of an hour or more, in such wise that not only _Dom. Syndicus_ but I myself also was amazed, seeing that she did not stop for a single word, save the word "hedgehog," which we both had forgotten at the moment when she asked us what it was.--_Summa. Dom. Syndicus_ grew far more gracious when she had finished her oration, and took leave of her, promising that he would set to work forthwith. After this I did not see him again till the morning of the third day at ten o'clock, seeing that he sat at work in a room at the castle, which the Sheriff had given him, and also ate there, as he sent me word by old Ilse when she carried him his breakfast next day. At the above-named time he sent the new constable for me, who, meanwhile, had been fetched from Uzdom at his desire. For the Sheriff was exceeding wroth when he heard that the impudent fellow had attempted my child in the prison, and cried out in a rage, "S'death, and 'ouns, I'll mend thy coaxing!" Whereupon he gave him a sound thrashing with a dog-whip he held in his hand, to make sure that she should be at peace from him. But, alas! the new constable was even worse than the old, as will be shown hereafter. His name was Master Köppner, and he was a tall fellow with a grim face, and a mouth so wide that at every word he said the spittle ran out at the corners, and stuck in his long beard like soap-suds, so that my child had an especial fear and loathing of him. Moreover, on all occasions he seemed to laugh in mockery and scorn, as he did when he opened the prison-door to us, and saw my poor child sitting in her grief and distress. But he straightway left us without waiting to be told, whereupon _Dom. Syndicus_ drew his defence out of his pocket, and read it to us; we have remembered the main points thereof, and I will recount them here, but most of the _auctores_ we have forgotten. 1. He began by saying that my daughter had ever till now stood in good repute, as not only the whole village, but even my servants bore witness; _ergo_, she could not be a witch, inasmuch as the Saviour hath said, "A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit" (Matt. vii.). 2. With regard to the witchcraft in the village, that belike was the contrivance of old Lizzie, seeing that she bore a great hatred towards _Rea_, and had long been in evil repute, for that the parishioners dared not to speak out, only from fear of the old witch; wherefore Zuter, her little girl, must be examined, who had heard old Lizzie her goodman tell her she had a familiar spirit, and that he would tell it to the parson; for that notwithstanding the above-named was but a child, still it was written in Psalm viii., "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength...."; and the Saviour himself appealed (Matt. xxi.) to the testimony of little children. 3. Furthermore, old Lizzie might have bewitched the crops, _item_, the fruit-trees, inasmuch as none could believe that _Rea_, who had ever shown herself a dutiful child, would have bewitched her own father's corn, or made caterpillars come on his trees; for no one, according to Scripture, can serve two masters. _Item_, she (old Lizzie) might very well have been the woodpecker that was seen by _Rea_ and old Paasch on the Streckelberg, and herself have given over her goodman to the Evil One for fear of the parson, inasmuch as Spitzel _De Expugnatione Orci_ asserts; _item_, the _Malleus Maleficarum_ proves beyond doubt that the wicked children of Satan ofttimes change themselves into all manner of beasts, as the foul fiend himself likewise seduced our first parents in the shape of a serpent (Gen. iii.). 5. That old Lizzie had most likely made the wild weather when _Dom. Consul_ was coming home with _Rea_ from the Streckelberg, seeing it was impossible that _Rea_ could have done it, as she was sitting in the coach, whereas witches when they raise storms always stand in the water, and throw it over their heads backwards; _item_, beat the stones soundly with a stick, as Hannold relates. Wherefore she too, may be, knew best about the frog and the hedgehog. 6. That _Rea_ was erroneously charged with that as a _crimen_ which ought rather to serve as her justification, namely, her sudden riches. For the _Malleus Maleficarum_ expressly says that a witch can never grow rich, seeing that Satan, to do dishonour to God, always buys them for a vile price, so that they should not betray themselves by their riches. Wherefore that as _Rea_ had grown rich, she could not have got her wealth from the foul fiend, but it must be true that she had found amber on the mountain; that the spells of old Lizzie might have been the cause why they could not find the vein of amber again, or that the sea might have washed away the cliff below, as often happens, whereupon the top had slipped down, so that only a _miraculum naturale_ had taken place. The proof which he brought forward from Scripture we have quite forgotten, seeing it was but middling. 7. With regard to her re-baptism, the old hag had said herself that she had not seen the devil or any other spirit or man about _Rea_, wherefore she might in truth have been only naturally bathing, in order to greet the King of Sweden next day, seeing that the weather was hot, and that bathing was not of itself sufficient to impair the modesty of a maiden. For that she had as little thought any would see her as Bathsheba the daughter of Eliam, and wife of Uriah the Hittite, who in like manner did bathe herself, as is written (2 Sam. xi. 2), without knowing that David could see her. Neither could her mark be a mark given by Satan, inasmuch as there was feeling therein; _ergo_, it must be a natural mole, and it was a lie that she had it not before bathing. Moreover, that on this point the old harlot was nowise to be believed, seeing that she had fallen from one contradiction into another about it, as stated in the _acta_. 8. Neither was it just to accuse _Rea_ of having bewitched Paasch his little daughter; for as old Lizzie was going in and out of the room, nay, even sat herself down on the little girl her belly when the pastor went to see her, it most likely was that wicked woman (who was known to have a great spite against _Rea_) that contrived the spell through the power of the foul fiend, and by permission of the all-just God; for that Satan was "a liar and the father of it," as our Lord Christ says (John viii.). 9. With regard to the appearance of the foul fiend on the mountain in the shape of a hairy giant, that indeed was the heaviest _gravamen_, inasmuch as not only old Lizzie, but likewise three trustworthy witnesses, had seen him. But who could tell whether it was not old Lizzie herself who had contrived this devilish apparition in order to ruin her enemy altogether; for that notwithstanding the apparition was not the young nobleman, as _Rea_ had declared it to be, it still was very likely that she had not lied, but had mistaken Satan for the young lord, as he appeared in his shape; _exemplum_, for this was to be found even in Scripture: for that all _Theologi_ of the whole Protestant Church were agreed that the vision which the witch of Endor showed to King Saul was not Samuel himself, but the arch-fiend; nevertheless, Saul had taken it for Samuel. In like manner the old harlot might have conjured up the devil before _Rea_, who did not perceive that it was not the young lord, but Satan, who had put on that shape in order to seduce her; for as _Rea_ was a fair woman, none could wonder that the devil gave himself more trouble for her than for an old withered hag, seeing he has ever sought after fair women to lie with them. Lastly, he argued that _Rea_ was in nowise marked as a witch, for that she neither had bleared and squinting eyes nor a hooked nose, whereas old Lizzie had both, which Theophrastus Paracelsus declares to be an unfailing mark of a witch, saying, "Nature marketh none thus unless by abortion, for these are the chiefest signs whereby witches be known whom the spirit _Asiendens_ hath subdued unto himself." When _Dom. Syndicus_ had read his _defensio_, my daughter was so rejoiced thereat that she would have kissed his hand, but he snatched it from her and breathed upon it thrice, whereby we could easily see that he himself was nowise in earnest with his _defensio_. Soon after he took leave in an ill-humour, after commending her to the care of the Most High, and begged that I would make my farewell as short as might be, seeing that he purposed to return home that very day, the which, alas! I very unwillingly did. _The Twenty-third Chapter_ HOW MY POOR CHILD WAS SENTENCED TO BE PUT TO THE QUESTION After _acta_ had been sent to the honourable the central court, about fourteen days passed over before any answer was received. My lord the Sheriff was especially gracious toward me the while, and allowed me to see my daughter as often as I would (seeing that the rest of the court were gone home), wherefore I was with her nearly all day. And when the constable grew impatient of keeping watch over me, I gave him a fee to lock me in together with my child. And the all-merciful God was gracious unto us, and caused us often and gladly to pray, for we had a steadfast hope, believing that the cross we had seen in the heavens would now soon pass away from us, and that the ravening wolf would receive his reward when the honourable high court had read through the _acta_, and should come to the excellent _defensio_ which _Dom. Syndicus_ had constructed for my child. Wherefore I began to be of good cheer again, especially when I saw my daughter her cheeks growing of a right lovely red. But on Thursday, 25th _mensis Augusti_, at noon, the worshipful court drove into the castle-yard again as I sat in the prison with my child, as I was wont; and old Ilse brought us our food, but could not tell us the news for weeping. But the tall constable peeped in at the door, grinning, and cried, "Oh, ho! they are come, they are come, they are come; now the tickling will begin": whereat my poor child shuddered, but less at the news than at sight of the fellow himself. Scarce was he gone than he came back again to take off her chains and to fetch her away. So I followed her into the judgment-chamber, where _Dom. Consul_ read out the sentence of the honourable high court as follows:--That she should once more be questioned in kindness touching the articles contained in the indictment; and if she then continued stubborn she should be subjected to the _peine forte et dure_, for that the _defensio_ she had set up did not suffice, and that there were _indicia legitima praegnantia et sufficientia ad torturam ipsam_; to wit-- 1. _Mala fama_. 2. _Maleficium, publicè commissum_. 3. _Apparitio daemonis in monte_. Whereupon the most honourable central court cited about 20 _auctores_, whereof, howbeit, we remember but little. When _Dom. Consul_ had read out this to my child, he once more lift up his voice and admonished her with many words to confess of her own free-will, for that the truth must now come to light. Hereupon she steadfastly replied, that after the _defensio_ of _Dom. Syndicus_ she had indeed hoped for a better sentence; but that, as it was the will of God to try her yet more hardly, she resigned herself altogether into His gracious hands, and could not confess aught save what she had said before, namely, that she was innocent, and that evil men had brought this misery upon her. Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ motioned the constable, who straightway opened the door of the next room, and admitted _Pastor Benzensis_ in his surplice, who had been sent for by the court to admonish her still better out of the word of God. He heaved a deep sigh, and said, "Mary, Mary, is it thus I must meet thee again?" Whereupon she began to weep bitterly, and to protest her innocence afresh. But he heeded not her distress, and as soon as he had heard her pray, "Our Father," "The eyes of all wait upon thee," and "God the Father dwell with us," he lift up his voice and declared to her the hatred of the living God to all witches and warlocks, seeing that not only is the punishment of fire awarded to them in the Old Testament, but that the Holy Ghost expressly saith in the New Testament (Gal. v.), "That they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God"; but "shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death" (Apocal. xxi.). Wherefore she must not be stubborn nor murmur against the court when she was tormented, seeing that it was all done out of Christian love, and to save her poor soul. That, for the sake of God and her salvation, she should no longer delay repentance, and thereby cause her body to be tormented, and give over her wretched soul to Satan, who certainly would not fulfil those promises in hell which he had made her here upon earth; seeing that "He was a murderer from the beginning--a liar and the father of it" (John viii.). "Oh!" cried he, "Mary, my child, who so oft hast sat upon my knees, and for whom I now cry every morning and every night unto my God, if thou wilt have no pity upon thee and me, have pity at least upon thy worthy father, whom I cannot look upon without tears, seeing that his hairs have turned snow-white within a few days, and save thy soul, my child, and confess! Behold, thy Heavenly Father grieveth over thee no less than thy fleshly father, and the holy angels veil their faces for sorrow that thou, who wert once their darling sister, art now become the sister and bride of the devil. Return therefore, and repent! This day thy Saviour calleth thee, poor stray lamb, back into His flock, 'And ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound ... be loosed from this bond?' Such are His merciful words (Luke xiii.); _item_, 'Return, thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord, and I will not cause mine anger to fall upon you, for I am merciful' (Jer. iii.). Return then, thou back-sliding soul, unto the Lord thy God! He who heard the prayer of the idolatrous Manasseh when 'he besought the Lord his God and humbled himself' (2 Chron. xxxiii.); who, through Paul, accepted the repentance of the sorcerers at Ephesus (Acts xix.), the same merciful God now crieth unto thee as unto the angel of the church of Ephesus, 'Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen, and repent' (Apocal. ii.). Oh, Mary, Mary, remember, my child, from whence thou art fallen, and repent!" Hereupon he held his peace, and it was some time before she could say a word for tears and sobs; but at last she answered, "If lies are no less hateful to God than witchcraft, I may not lie, but must rather declare, to the glory of God, as I have ever declared, that I am innocent." Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ was exceeding wroth, and frowned and asked the tall constable if all was ready, _item_, whether the women were at hand to undress _Rea_; whereupon he answered with a grin, as he was wont, "Ho, ho, I have never been wanting in my duty, nor will I be wanting to-day; I will tickle her in such wise that she shall soon confess." When he had said this, _Dom. Consul_ turned to my daughter, and said, "Thou art a foolish thing, and knowest not the torment which awaits thee, and therefore is it that thou still art stubborn. Now, then, follow me to the torture-chamber, where the executioner shall show thee the _instrumenta_; and thou mayest yet think better of it when thou hast seen what the question is like." Hereupon he went into another room, and the constable followed him with my child. And when I would have gone after them, _Pastor Benzensis_ held me back, with many tears, and conjured me not to do so, but to tarry where I was. But I hearkened not unto him, and tore myself from him, and swore that so long as a single vein should beat in my wretched body I would never forsake my child. I therefore went into the next room, and from thence down into a vault, where was the torture-chamber, wherein were no windows, so that those without might not hear the cries of the tormented. Two torches were already burning there when I went in, and although _Dom. Consul_ would at first have sent me away, after a while he had pity upon me, so that he suffered me to stay. And now that hell-hound the constable stepped forward, and first showed my poor child the ladder, saying with savage glee, "See here! first of all thou wilt be laid on that, and thy hands and feet will be tied. Next, the thumb-screw here will be put upon thee, which straightway will make the blood to spirt out at the tips of thy fingers; thou mayest see that they are still red with the blood of old Gussy Biehlke, who was burnt last year, and who, like thee, would not confess at first. If thou still wilt not confess, I shall next put these Spanish boots on thee, and should they be too large, I shall just drive in a wedge, so that the calf, which is now at the back of thy leg, will be driven to the front, and the blood will shoot out of thy feet, as when thou squeezest blackberries in a bag. "Again, if thou wilt not yet confess--holla!" shouted he, and kicked open a door behind him, so that the whole vault shook, and my poor child fell upon her knees for fright. Before long two women brought in a bubbling caldron, full of boiling pitch and brimstone. This caldron the hell-hound ordered them to set down on the ground, and drew forth, from under the red cloak he wore, a goose's wing, wherefrom he plucked five or six quills, which he dipped into the boiling brimstone. After he had held them a while in the caldron he threw them upon the earth, where they twisted about and spirted the brimstone on all sides. And then he called to my poor child again, "See! these quills I shall throw upon thy white loins, and the burning brimstone will presently eat into thy flesh down to the very bones, so that thou wilt thereby have a foretaste of the joys which await thee in hell." [Illustration: The Torture Chamber] When he had spoken thus far, amid sneers and laughter, I was so overcome with rage that I sprang forth out of the corner where I stood leaning my trembling joints against an old barrel, and cried, "O, thou hellish dog! sayest thou this of thyself, or have others bidden thee?" Whereupon, however, the fellow gave me such a blow upon the breast that I fell backwards against the wall, and _Dom. Consul_ called out in great wrath, "You old fool, if you needs must stay here, at any rate leave the constable in peace, for if not I will have you thrust out of the chamber forthwith. The constable has said no more than is his duty; and it will thus happen to thy child if she confess not, and if it appear that the foul fiend have given her some charm against the torture." Hereupon this hell-hound went on to speak to my poor child, without heeding me, save that he laughed in my face: "Look here! when thou hast thus been well shorn, ho, ho, ho! I shall pull thee up by means of these two rings in the floor and the roof, stretch thy arms above thy head, and bind them fast to the ceiling; whereupon I shall take these two torches, and hold them under thy shoulders, till thy skin will presently become like the rind of a smoked ham. Then thy hellish paramour will help thee no longer, and thou wilt confess the truth. And now thou hast seen and heard all that I shall do to thee, in the name of God, and by order of the magistrates." And now _Dom. Consul_ once more came forward and admonished her to confess the truth. But she abode by what she had said from the first; whereupon he delivered her over to the two women who had brought in the caldron, to strip her naked as she was born, and to clothe her in the black torture-shift; after which they were once more to lead her barefooted up the steps before the worshipful court. But one of these women was the Sheriff his housekeeper (the other was the impudent constable his wife), and my daughter said that she would not suffer herself to be touched save by honest women, and assuredly not by the housekeeper, and begged _Dom. Consul_ to send for her maid, who was sitting in her prison reading the Bible, if he knew of no other decent woman at hand. Hereupon the housekeeper began to pour forth a wondrous deal of railing and ill words, but _Dom. Consul_ rebuked her, and answered my daughter that he would let her have her wish in this matter too, and bade the impudent constable his wife call the maid hither from out of the prison. After he had said this, he took me by the arm, and prayed me so long to go up with him, for that no harm would happen to my daughter as yet, that I did as he would have me. Before long she herself came up, led between the two women, barefooted, and in the black torture-shift, but so pale that I myself should scarce have known her. The hateful constable, who followed close behind, seized her by the hand, and led her before the worshipful court. Hereupon the admonitions began all over again, and _Dom. Consul_ bade her look upon the brown spots that were upon the black shift, for that they were the blood of old wife Bichlke, and to consider that within a few minutes it would in like manner be stained with her own blood. Hereupon she answered, "I have considered that right well, but I hope that my faithful Saviour, who hath laid this torment upon me, being innocent, will likewise help me to bear it, as he helped the holy martyrs of old; for if these, through God's help, overcame by faith the torments inflicted on them by blind heathens, I also can overcome the torture inflicted on me by blind heathens, who, indeed, call themselves Christians, but who are more cruel than those of yore; for the old heathens only caused the holy virgins to be torn of savage beasts, but ye which have received the new commandment, 'That ye love one another; as your Saviour hath loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are his disciples' (St. John xiii.); yourselves will act the part of savage beasts, and tear with your own hands the body of an innocent maiden, your sister, who has never done aught to harm you. Do, then, as ye list, but have a care how ye will answer it to the highest Judge of all. Again, I say, the lamb feareth nought, for it is in the hand of the good Shepherd." When my matchless child had thus spoken, _Dom. Consul_ rose, pulled off the black skull-cap which he ever wore, because the top of his head was already bald, bowed to the court, and said, "We hereby make known to the worshipful court that the question ordinary and extraordinary of the stubborn and blaspheming witch, Mary Schweidler, is about to begin, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." Hereupon all the court rose save the Sheriff, who had got up before, and was walking uneasily up and down in the room. But of all that now follows, and of what I myself did, I remember not one word, but will relate it all as I have received it from my daughter and other _testes_, and they have told me as follows:-- That when _Dom. Consul_ after these words had taken up the hour-glass which stood upon the table, and walked on before, I would go with him, whereupon _Pastor Benzensis_ first prayed me with many words and tears to desist from my purpose, and when that was of no avail my child herself stroked my cheeks, saying, "Father, have you ever read that the Blessed Virgin stood by when her guileless Son was scourged? Depart, therefore, from me. You shall stand by the pile whereon I am burned, that I promise you; for in like manner did the Blessed Virgin stand at the foot of the cross. But, now, go; go, I pray you, for you will not be able to bear it, neither shall I." And when this also failed, _Dom. Consul_ bade the constable seize me, and by main force lock me into another room; whereupon, however, I tore myself away, and fell at his feet, conjuring him by the wounds of Christ not to tear me from my child; that I would never forget his kindness and mercy, but pray for him day and night; nay, that at the day of judgment I would be his intercessor with God and the holy angels if that he would but let me go with my child; that I would be quite quiet, and not speak one single word, but that I must go with my child, etc. This so moved the worthy man that he burst into tears, and so trembled with pity for me that the hour-glass fell from his hands and rolled right before the feet of the Sheriff, as though God himself would signify to him that his glass was soon to run out; and, indeed, he understood it right well, for he grew white as any chalk when he picked it up and gave it back to _Dom. Consul_. The latter at last gave way, saying that this day would make him ten years older; but he bade the impudent constable (who also went with us) lead me away if I made any _rumor_ during the torture. And hereupon the whole court went below, save the Sheriff, who said his head ached, and that he believed his old _malum_, the gout, was coming upon him again, wherefore he went into another chamber; _item, Pastor Benzensis_ likewise departed. Down in the vault the constable first brought in tables and chairs, whereon the court sat, and _Dom. Consul_ also pushed a chair toward me, but I sat not thereon, but threw myself upon my knees in a corner. When this was done they began again with their vile admonitions, and as my child, like her guileless Saviour before His unrighteous judges, answered not a word, _Dom. Consul_ rose up and bade the tall constable lay her on the torture-bench. She shook like an aspen leaf when he bound her hands and feet; and when he was about to bind over her sweet eyes a nasty old filthy clout wherein my maid had seen him carry fish but the day before, and which was still all over shining scales, I perceived it, and pulled off my silken neckerchief, begging him to use that instead, which he did. Hereupon the thumb-screw was put on her, and she was once more asked whether she would confess freely, but she only shook her poor blinded head and sighed with her dying Saviour, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" and then in Greek, "Thee mou, Thee mou, iuati me egkatelipes"; Whereat _Dom. Consul_ started back, and made the sign of the cross (for inasmuch as he knew no Greek, he believed, as he afterwards said himself, that she was calling upon the devil to help her), and then called to the constable with a loud voice, "Screw!" But when I heard this I gave such a cry that the whole vault shook; and when my poor child, who was dying of terror and despair, had heard my voice she first struggled with her bound hands and feet like a lamb that lies dying in the slaughter-house, and then cried out, "Loose me, and I will confess whatsoe'er you will." Hereat _Dom. Consul_ so greatly rejoiced, that while the constable unbound her, he fell on his knees, and thanked God for having spared him this anguish. But no sooner was my poor desperate child unbound, and had laid aside her crown of thorns (I mean my silken neckerchief), than she jumped off the ladder, and flung herself upon me, who lay for dead in a corner in a deep swound. This greatly angered the worshipful court, and when the constable had borne me away, _Rea_ was admonished to make her confession according to promise. But seeing she was too weak to stand upon her feet, _Dom. Consul_ gave her a chair to sit upon, although _Dom. Camerarius_ grumbled thereat, and these were the chief questions which were put to her by order of the most honourable high central court, as _Dom. Consul_ said, and which were registered _ad protocollum_. _Q_. Whether she could bewitch? _R_. Yes, she could bewitch. _Q_. Who taught her to do so? _R_. Satan himself. _Q_. How many devils had she? _R_. One devil was enough for her. _Q_. What was this devil called? _Illa_ (considering). His name was _Disidaemonia_. Hereat _Dom. Consul_ shuddered, and said that that must be a very terrible devil indeed, for that he had never heard such a name before, and that she must spell it, so that _Scriba_ might make no _error_; which she did, and he then went on as follows:-- _Q_. In what shape had he appeared to her? _R_. In the shape of the Sheriff, and sometimes as a goat with terrible horns. _Q_. Whether Satan had re-baptized her, and where? _R_. In the sea. _Q_. What name had he given her? _R_.--. _Q_. Whether any of the neighbors had been by when she was re-baptized, and which of them? _R_. Hereupon my matchless child cast up her eyes towards heaven, as though doubting whether she should file old Lizzie or not, but at last she said, "No." _Q_. She must have had sponsors; who were they? and what gift had they given her as christening money? _R_. There were none there save spirits; wherefore old Lizzie could see no one when she came and looked on at her re-baptism. _Q_. Whether she had ever lived with the devil? _R_. She never had lived anywhere save in her father's house. She did not choose to understand. He meant whether she had ever played the wanton with Satan, and known him carnally? Hereupon she blushed, and was so ashamed that she covered her face with her hands, and presently began to weep and to sob: and as, after many questions, she gave no answer, she was again admonished to speak the truth, or that the executioner should lift her up on the ladder again. At last she said, "No!" which, howbeit, the worshipful court would not believe, and bade the executioner seize her again, whereupon she answered, "Yes!" _Q_. Whether she had found the devil hot or cold? _R_. She did not remember which. _Q_. Whether she had ever conceived by Satan, and given birth to a changeling, and of what shape? _R_. No, never. _Q_. Whether the foul fiend had given her any sign or mark about her body, and in what part thereof? _R_. That the mark had already been seen by the worshipful court. She was next charged with all the witchcraft done in the village, and owned to it all, save that she still said that she knew nought of old Seden his death, _item_, of little Paasch her sickness, nor, lastly, would she confess that she had, by the help of the foul fiend, raked up my crop or conjured the caterpillars into my orchard. And albeit they again threatened her with the question, and even ordered the executioner to lay her on the bench and put on the thumb-screw to frighten her, she remained firm and said, "Why should you torture me, seeing that I have confessed far heavier crimes than these, which it will not save my life to deny?" Hereupon the worshipful court at last were satisfied, and suffered her to be lifted off the torture-bench, especially as she confessed the _articulus principals_; to wit, that Satan had really appeared to her on the mountain in the shape of a hairy giant. Of the storm and the frog, _item_, of the hedgehog, nothing was said, inasmuch as the worshipful court had by this time seen the folly of supposing that she could have brewed a storm while she quietly sat in the coach. Lastly, she prayed that it might be granted to her to suffer death clothed in the garments which she had worn when she went to greet the King of Sweden; _item_, that they would suffer her wretched father to be driven with her to the stake, and to stand by while she was burned, seeing that she had promised him this in the presence of the worshipful court. Hereupon she was once more given into the charge of the tall constable, who was ordered to put her into a stronger and severer prison. But he had not led her out of the chamber before the Sheriff his bastard, whom he had had by the housekeeper, came into the vault with a drum, and kept drumming and crying out, "Come to the roast goose! come to the roast goose!" whereat _Dom. Consul_ was exceeding wroth, and ran after him, but he could not catch him, seeing that the young varlet knew all the ins and outs of the vault. Without doubt it was the Lord who sent me the swound, so that I should be spared this fresh grief; wherefore to Him alone be honour and glory. Amen. _The Twenty-fourth Chapter_ HOW IN MY PRESENCE THE DEVIL FETCHED OLD LIZZIE KOLKEN When I recovered from my above-mentioned swound, I found my host, his wife, and my old maid standing over me, and pouring warm beer down my throat. The faithful old creature shrieked for joy when I opened my eyes again, and then told me that my daughter had not suffered herself to be racked, but had freely confessed her crimes and filed herself as a witch. This seemed pleasant news to me in my misery, inasmuch as I deemed the death by fire to be a less heavy punishment than the torture. Howbeit when I would have prayed I could not, whereat I again fell into heavy grief and despair, fearing that the Holy Ghost had altogether turned away His face from me, wretched man that I was. And albeit the old maid, when she had seen this, came and stood before my bed and began to pray aloud to me; it was all in vain, and I remained a hardened sinner. But the Lord had pity upon me, although I deserved it not, insomuch that I presently fell into a deep sleep, and did not awake until next morning when the prayer-bell rang; and then I was once more able to pray, whereat I greatly rejoiced, and still thanked God in my heart, when my ploughman Claus Neels came in and told me that he had come yesterday to tell me about my oats, seeing that he had gotten them all in; and that the constable came with him who had been to fetch old Lizzie Kolken, inasmuch as the honourable high court had ordered her to be brought up for trial. Hereat the whole village rejoiced, but _Rea_ herself laughed, and shouted, and sang, and told him and the constable by the way (for the constable had let her get up behind for a short time), that this should bring great luck to the Sheriff. They need only bring her up before the court, and in good sooth she would not hold her tongue within her teeth, but that all men should marvel at her confession; that such a court as that was a laughing-stock to her, and that she spat, _salvâ veniâ_, upon the whole brotherhood, _et cet_. Upon hearing this I once more felt a strong hope, and rose to go to old Lizzie. But I was not quite dressed before she sent the impudent constable to beg that I would go to her with all speed and give her the sacrament, seeing that she had become very weak during the night. I had my own thoughts on the matter, and followed the constable as fast as I could, though not to give her the sacrament, as indeed anybody may suppose. But in my haste, I, weak old man that I was, forgot to take my witnesses with me; for all the misery I had hitherto suffered had so clouded my senses that it never once came into my head. None followed me save the impudent constable; and it will soon appear how that this villain had given himself over body and soul to Satan to destroy my child, whereas he might have saved her. For when he had opened the prison (it was the same cell wherein my child had first been shut up), we found old Lizzie lying on the ground on a truss of straw, with a broom for a pillow (as though she were to fly to hell upon it, as she no longer could fly to Blockula), so that I shuddered when I caught sight of her. Scarce was I come in when she cried out fearfully, "I'm a witch, I'm a witch! Have pity upon me, and give me the sacrament quick, and I will confess everything to you!" And when I said to her, "Confess, then!" she owned that she, with the help of the Sheriff, had contrived all the witchcraft in the village, and that my child was as innocent thereof as the blessed sun in heaven. Howbeit that the Sheriff had the greatest guilt, inasmuch as he was a warlock and a witch's priest, and had a spirit far stronger than hers, called Dudaim, which spirit had given her such a blow on the head in the night as she should never recover. This same Dudaim it was that had raked up the crops, heaped sand over the amber, made the storm, and dropped the frog into my daughter her lap; _item_, carried off her old goodman through the air. And when I asked her how that could be, seeing that her goodman had been a child of God until very near his end, and much given to prayer; albeit I had indeed marvelled why he had other thoughts in his last illness; she answered that one day he had seen her spirit, which she kept in a chest, in the shape of a black cat, and whose name was Kit, and had threatened that he would tell me of it; whereupon she, being frightened, had caused her spirit to make him so ill that he despaired of ever getting over it. Thereupon she had comforted him, saying that she would presently heal him if he would deny God, who, as he well saw, could not help him. This he promised to do; and when she had straight-way made him quite hearty again, they took the silver which I had scraped off the new sacrament cup, and went by night down to the seashore, where he had to throw it into the sea with these words: "When this silver returns again to the chalice, then shall my soul return to God." Whereupon the Sheriff, who was by, re-baptized him in the name of Satan, and called him Jack. He had had no sponsors save only herself, old Lizzie. Moreover, that on St. John's Eve, when he went with them to Blockula for the first time (the Herrenberg was their Blockula), they had talked of my daughter, and Satan himself had sworn to the Sheriff that he should have her. For that he would show the old one (wherewith the villain meant God) what he could do, and that he would make the carpenter's son sweat for vexation (fie upon thee, thou arch villain, that thou couldst thus speak of my blessed Saviour!). Whereupon her old goodman had grumbled, and as they had never rightly trusted him, the spirit Dudaim one day flew off with him through the air by the Sheriff's order, seeing that her own spirit, called Kit, was too weak to carry him. That the same Dudaim had also been the woodpecker who afterwards 'ticed my daughter and old Paasch to the spot with his cries, in order to ruin her. But that the giant who had appeared on the Streckelberg was not a devil, but the young lord of Mellenthin himself, as her spirit, Kit, had told her. And this she said was nothing but the truth, whereby she would live and die; and she begged me, for the love of God, to take pity upon her, and, after her repentant confession, to speak forgiveness of her sins, and to give her the Lord's Supper; for that her spirit stood there behind the stove, grinning like a rogue, because he saw that it was all up with her now. But I answered, "I would sooner give the sacrament to an old sow than to thee, thou accursed witch, who not only didst give over thine own husband to Satan, but hast likewise tortured me and my poor child almost unto death with pains like those of hell." Before she could make any answer, a loathsome insect, about as long as my finger, and with a yellow tail, crawled in under the door of the prison. When she espied it she gave a yell, such as I never before heard, and never wish to hear again. For once, when I was in Silesia, in my youth, I saw one of the enemy's soldiers spear a child before its mother's face, and I thought that a fearful shriek which the mother gave; but her cry was child's play to the cry of old Lizzie. All my hair stood on end, and her own red hair grew so stiff that it was like the twigs of the broom whereon she lay; and then she howled, "That is the spirit Dudaim, whom the accursed Sheriff has sent to me--the sacrament, for the love of God, the sacrament!--I will confess a great deal more--I have been a witch these thirty years!--the sacrament, the sacrament!" While she thus bellowed and flung about her arms and legs, the loathsome insect rose into the air, and buzzed and whizzed about her where she lay, insomuch that it was fearful to see and to hear. And this she-devil called by turns on God, on her spirit Kit, and on me, to help her, till the insect all of a sudden darted into her open jaws, whereupon she straightway gave up the ghost, and turned all black and blue like a blackberry. I heard nothing more save that the window rattled, not very loud, but as though one had thrown a pea against it, whereby I straightway perceived that Satan had just flown through it with her soul. May the all-merciful God keep every mother's child from such an end, for the sake of Jesus Christ our blessed Lord and Saviour! Amen. As soon as I was somewhat recovered, which, however, was not for a long time, inasmuch as my blood had turned to ice, and my feet were as stiff as a stake; I began to call out after the impudent constable, but he was no longer in the prison. Thereat I greatly marvelled, seeing that I had seen him there but just before the vermin crawled in, and straightway I suspected no good, as, indeed, it turned out; for when at last he came upon my calling him, and I told him to let this carrion be carted out which had just died in the name of the devil, he did as though he was amazed; and when I desired him that he would bear witness to the innocence of my daughter, which the old hag had confessed on her death-bed, he pretended to be yet more amazed, and said that he had heard nothing. This went through my heart like a sword, and I leaned against a pillar without, where I stood for a long time: but as soon as I was come to myself I went to _Dom. Consul_, who was about to go to Usedom and already sat in his coach. At my humble prayer he went back into the judgment-chamber with the _Camerarius_ and the _Scriba_, whereupon I told all that had taken place, and how the wicked constable denied that he had heard the same. But they say that I talked a great deal of nonsense beside; among other things, that all the little fishes had swam into the vault to release my daughter. Nevertheless, _Dom. Consul_, who often shook his head, sent for the impudent constable, and asked him for his testimony. But the fellow pretended that as soon as he saw that old Lizzie wished to confess, he had gone away, so as not to get any more hard words, wherefore he had heard nothing. Hereupon I, as _Dom. Consul_ afterwards told the pastor of Benz, clenched my fists and answered, "What, thou arch-rogue, didst thou not crawl about the room in the shape of a reptile?" whereupon he would hearken to me no longer, thinking me distraught, nor would he make the constable take an oath, but left me standing in the midst of the room, and got into his coach again. Neither do I know how I got out of the room; but next morning when the sun rose, and I found myself lying in bed at Master Seep his ale-house, the whole _casus_ seemed to me like a dream; neither was I able to rise, but lay a-bed all the blessed Saturday and Sunday, talking all manner of _allotria_. It was not till towards evening on Sunday, when I began to vomit and threw up green bile (no wonder!), that I got somewhat better. About this time _Pastor Benzensis_ came to my bedside, and told me how distractedly I had borne myself, but so comforted me from the word of God, that I was once more able to pray from my heart. May the merciful God reward my dear gossip, therefore, at the day of judgment! For prayer is almost as brave a comforter as the Holy Ghost himself, from whom it comes; and I shall ever consider that so long as a man can still pray, his misfortunes are not unbearable, even though in all else "his flesh and his heart faileth" (Psalm lxxiii.). _The Twenty-fifth Chapter_ HOW SATAN SIFTED ME LIKE WHEAT, WHEREAS MY DAUGHTER WITHSTOOD HIM RIGHT BRAVELY On Monday I left my bed betimes, and as I felt in passable good case, I went up to the castle to see whether I might peradventure get to my daughter, but I could not find either constable, albeit I had brought a few groats with me to give them as beer-money; neither would the folks that I met tell me where they were; _item_, the impudent constable his wife, who was in the kitchen making brimstone matches. And when I asked her when her husband would come back, she said not before to-morrow morning early; _item_, that the other constable would not be here any sooner. Hereupon I begged her to lead me to my daughter herself, at the same time showing her the two groats; but she answered that she had not the keys, and knew not how to get at them: moreover, she said she did not know where my child was now shut up, seeing that I would have spoken to her through the door; _item_, the cook, the huntsman, and whomsoever else I met in my sorrow, said they knew not in what hole the witch might lie. Hereupon I went all round about the castle, and laid my ear against every little window that looked as though it might be her window, and cried, "Mary, my child, where art thou?" _Item_, at every grating I found I kneeled down, bowed my head, and called in like manner into the vault below. But all in vain; I got no answer anywhere. The Sheriff at length saw what I was about, and came down out of the castle to me with a very gracious air, and, taking me by the hand, he asked me what I sought? But when I answered him that I had not seen my only child since last Thursday, and prayed him to show pity upon me, and let me be led to her, he said that could not be, but that I was to come up into his chamber, and talk further of the matter. By the way he said, "Well, so the old witch told you fine things about me, but you see how Almighty God has sent his righteous judgment upon her. She has long been ripe for the fire; but my great long-suffering, wherein a good magistrate should ever strive to be like unto the Lord, has made me overlook it till _datum_, and in return for my goodness she raises this outcry against me." And when I replied, "How does your Lordship know that the witch raised such an outcry against you?" he first began to stammer, and then said, "Why, you yourself charged me thereon before the judge. But I bear you no anger therefor, and God knows that I pity you, who are a poor, weak old man, and would gladly help you if I were able." Meanwhile he led me up four or five flights of stairs, so that I, old man that I am, could follow him no further, and stood still gasping for breath. But he took me by the hand and said, "Come, I must first show you how matters really stand, or I fear you will not accept my help, but will plunge yourself into destruction." Hereupon we stepped out upon a terrace at the top of the castle, which looked toward the water; and the villain went on to say, "Reverend Abraham, can you see well afar off?" and when I answered that I once could see very well, but that the many tears I had shed had now peradventure dimmed my eyes, he pointed to the Streckelberg, and said, "Do you, then, see nothing there?" _Ego_. "Nought save a black speck, which I cannot make out." _Ille_. "Know, then, that that is the pile whereon your daughter is to burn at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, and which the constables are now raising." When this hell-hound had thus spoken, I gave a loud cry and swounded. Oh, blessed Lord! I know not how I lived through such distress; thou alone didst strengthen me beyond nature, in order, "after so much weeping and wailing, to heap joys and blessings upon me; without thee I never could have lived through such misery: therefore to thy name ever be all honour and glory, O thou God of Israel!" When I came again to myself I lay on a bed in a fine room, and perceived a taste in my mouth like wine. But as I saw none near me save the Sheriff, who held a pitcher in his hand, I shuddered and closed mine eyes, considering what I should say or do. This he presently observed, and said, "Do not shudder thus; I mean well by you, and only wish to put a question to you, which you must answer me on your conscience as a priest. Say, reverend Abraham, which is the greater sin, to commit whoredom, or to take the lives of two persons?" and when I answered him, "To take the lives of two persons," he went on, "Well, then, is not that what your stubborn child is about to do? Rather than give herself up to me, who have ever desired to save her, and who can even yet save her, albeit her pile is now being raised, she will take away her own life and that of her wretched father, for I scarcely think that you, poor man, will outlive this sorrow. Wherefore do you, for God his sake, persuade her to think better of it while I am yet able to save her. For know that about ten miles from hence I have a small house in the midst of the forest, where no human being ever goes; thither will I send her this very night, and you may dwell there with her all the days of your life, if so it please you. You shall live as well as you can possibly desire, and to-morrow morning I will spread a report betimes that the witch and her father have run away together during the night, and that nobody knows whither they are gone." Thus spake the serpent to me, as whilom to our mother Eve; and, wretched sinner that I am, the tree of death which he showed me seemed to me also to be a tree of life, so pleasant was it to the eye. Nevertheless I answered, "My child will never save her miserable life by doing aught to peril the salvation of her soul." But now, too, the serpent was more cunning than all the beasts of the field (especially such an old fool as I), and spake thus: "Why, who would have her peril the salvation of her soul? Reverend Abraham, must I teach you Scripture? Did not our Lord Christ pardon Mary Magdalene, who lived in open whoredom? and did he not speak forgiveness to the poor adulteress who had committed a still greater _crimen?_ nay, more, doth not St. Paul expressly say that the harlot Rahab was saved, Hebrews xi.? _item_, St. James ii. says the same. But where have ye read that any one was saved who had wantonly taken her own life and that of her father? Wherefore, for the love of God, persuade your child not to give herself up, body and soul, to the devil, by her stubbornness, but to suffer herself to be saved while it is yet time. You can abide with her, and pray away all the sins she may commit, and likewise aid me with your prayers, who freely own that I am a miserable sinner, and have done you much evil, though not so much evil by far, reverend Abraham, as David did to Uriah, and he was saved, notwithstanding he put the man to a shameful death, and afterwards lay with his wife. Wherefore I, poor man, likewise hope to be saved, seeing that my desire for your daughter is still greater than that which this David felt for Bathsheba; and I will gladly make it all up to you twofold as soon as we are in my cottage." When the tempter had thus spoken, methought his words were sweeter than honey, and I answered, "Alas, my lord, I am ashamed to appear before her face with such a proposal." Whereupon he straightway said, "Then do you write it to her; come, here is pen, ink, and paper." And now, like Eve, I took the fruit and ate, and gave it to my child that she might eat also; that is to say, that I recapitulated on paper all that Satan had prompted, but in the Latin tongue, for I was ashamed to write it in mine own; and lastly I conjured her not to take away her own life and mine, but to submit to the wondrous will of God. Neither were mine eyes opened when I had eaten (that is, written), nor did I perceive that the ink was gall instead of honey, and I translated my letter to the Sheriff (seeing that he understood no Latin), smiling like a drunken man the while; whereupon he clapped me on the shoulder, and after I had made fast the letter with his signet, he called his huntsman, and gave it to him to carry to my daughter; _item_, he sent her pen, ink, and paper, together with his signet, in order that she might answer it forthwith. Meanwhile he talked with me right graciously, praising my child and me, and made me drink to him many times from his great pitcher, wherein was most goodly wine; moreover, he went to a cupboard and brought out cakes for me to eat, saying that I should now have such every day. But when the huntsman came back in about half an hour with her answer, and I had read the same, then, first, were mine eyes opened, and I knew good and evil; had I had a fig-leaf, I should have covered them therewith for shame; but as it was, I held my hand over them and wept so bitterly that the Sheriff waxed very wroth, and cursing bade me tell him what she had written. Thereupon I interpreted the letter to him, the which I likewise place here, in order that all may see my folly, and the wisdom of my child. It was as follows:-- "IESVS! "Pater infelix! "Ego cras non magis pallebo rogum aspectura, et rogus non magis erubescet, me suscipiens, quam pallui et iterum erubescui, literas tuas legens. Quid? et te, pium patrem, pium servum Domini, ita Satanas sollicitavit, ut communionem facias cum inimicis meis, et non intelligas: in tali vitâ esse mortem, et in tali morte vitam? Scilicet si clementissimus Deus Mariae Magdalenae aliisque ignovit, ignovit, quia resipiscerent ob carnis debilitatem, et non iterum peccarent. Et ego peccarem cum quavis detestatione carnis, et non semel, sed iterum atque iterum sine reversione usque ad mortem? Quomodo clementissimus Deus haec sceleratissima ignoscere posset? infelix pater! recordare quid mihi dixisti de sanctis martyribus et virginibus Domini, qua omnes mallent vitam quam pudicitiam perdere. His et ego sequar, et sponsus meus, Jesus Christus, et mihi miserae, ut spero, coronam aeternam dabit, quamvis eum non minus offendi ob debilitatem carnis ut Maria, et me sontem declaravi, cum insons sum. Fac igitur, ut valeas et ora pro me apud Deum et non apud Satanam, ut et ego mox coram Deo pro te orare possim. "MARIA S., captiva." When the Sheriff heard this, he flung the pitcher which he held in his hand to the ground, so that it flew in pieces, and cried, "The cursed devil's whore! the constable shall make her squeak for this a good hour longer"; with many more such things beside, which he said in his malice, and which I have now forgotten; but he soon became quite gracious again, and said, "She is foolish; do you go to her and see whether you cannot persuade her to her own good as well as yours; the huntsman shall let you in, and should the fellow listen, give him a good box on the ears in my name; do you hear, reverend Abraham? Go now forthwith and bring me back an answer as quickly as possible!" I therefore followed the huntsman, who led me into a vault where was no light save what fell through a hole no bigger than a crown-piece; and here my daughter sat upon her bed and wept. Any one may guess that I straightway began to weep too, and was no better able to speak than she. We thus lay mute in each other's arms for a long time, until I at last begged her to forgive me for my letter, but of the Sheriff his message I said nought, although I had purposed so to do. But before long we heard the Sheriff himself call down into the vault from above, "What (and here he gave me a heavy curse) are you doing there so long? Come up this moment, reverend Johannes!" Thus I had scarce time to give her one kiss before the huntsman came back with the keys and forced us to part; albeit we had as yet scarcely spoken, save that I had told her in a few words what had happened with old Lizzie. It would be hard to believe into what grievous anger the Sheriff fell when I told him that my daughter remained firm and would not hearken unto him; he struck me on the breast, and said, "Go to the devil then, thou infamous parson!" and when I turned myself away and would have gone, he pulled me back, and said, "If thou breathest but one word of all that has passed, I will have thee burnt too, thou grey-headed old father of a witch; so look to it!" Hereupon I plucked up a heart, and answered that that would be the greatest joy to me, especially if I could be burnt to-morrow with my child. Hereunto he made no answer, but clapped to the door behind me. Well, clap the door as thou wilt, I greatly fear that the just God will one day clap the doors of heaven in thy face! _The Twenty-sixth Chapter_ HOW I RECEIVED THE HOLY SACRAMENT WITH MY DAUGHTER AND THE OLD MAIDSERVANT, AND HOW SHE WAS THEN LED FOR THE LAST TIME BEFORE THE COURT, WITH THE DRAWN SWORD AND THE OUTCRY, TO RECEIVE SENTENCE Now any one would think that during that heavy Tuesday night I should not have been able to close mine eyes; but know, dear reader, that the Lord can do more than we can ask or understand, and that his mercy is new every morning. For toward daybreak I fell asleep as quietly as though I had had no care upon my heart; and when I awoke I was able to pray more heartily than I had done for a long time; so that, in the midst of my tribulation, I wept for joy at such great mercy from the Lord. But I prayed for nought save that he would endow my child with strength and courage to suffer the martyrdom he had laid upon her with Christian patience, and to send his angel to me, woeful man, so to pierce my heart with grief when I should see my child burn that it might straightway cease to beat, and I might presently follow her. And thus I still prayed when the maid came in all dressed in black, and with the silken raiment of my sweet lamb hanging over her arm; and she told me, with many tears, that the dead-bell had already tolled from the castle tower, for the first time, and that my child had sent for her to dress her, seeing that the court was already come from Usedom, and that in about two hours she was to set out on her last journey. Moreover, she had sent her word that she was to take her some blue and yellow flowers for a garland; wherefore she asked me what flowers she should take; and seeing that a jar filled with fire lilies and forget-me-nots stood in my window, which she had placed there yesterday, I said, "Thou canst gather no better flowers for her than these, wherefore do thou carry them to her, and tell her that I will follow thee in about half an hour, in order to receive the sacrament with her." Hereupon the faithful old creature prayed me to suffer her to go to the sacrament with us, the which I promised her. And scarce had I dressed myself and put on my surplice when _Pastor Benzensis_ came in at the door and fell upon my neck, weeping, and as mute as a fish. As soon as he came to his speech again he told me of the great _miraculum_ (_daemonis_ I mean) which had befallen at the burial of old Lizzie. For that, just as the bearers were about to lower the coffin into the grave, a noise was heard therein, as though of a carpenter boring through a deal board; wherefore they thought the old hag must be come to life again, and opened the coffin. But there she lay as before, all black and blue in the face, and as cold as ice; but her eyes had started wide open, so that all were horror-stricken, and expected some devilish apparition; and, indeed, a live rat presently jumped out of the coffin and ran into a skull which lay beside the grave. Thereupon they all ran away, seeing that old Lizzie had ever been in evil repute as a witch. Howbeit at last he himself went near the grave again, whereupon the rat disappeared, and all the others took courage and followed him. This the man told me, and any one may guess that this was in fact Satan, who had flown down the hag her throat as an insect, whereas his proper shape was that of a rat: albeit I wonder what he could so long have been about in the carrion; unless indeed it were that the evil spirits are as fond of all that is loathsome as the angels of God are of all that is fair and lovely. Be that as it may; _Summa_: I was not a little shocked at what he told me, and asked him what he now thought of the Sheriff? whereupon he shrugged his shoulders, and said that he had indeed been a wicked fellow as long as he could remember him, and that it was full ten years since he had given him any first-fruits; but that he did not believe that he was a warlock, as old Lizzie had said. For although he had indeed never been to the table of the Lord in his church, he had heard that he often went at Stettin, with his Princely Highness the Duke, and that the pastor at the castle church had shown him the entry in his communion-book. Wherefore he likewise could not believe that he had brought this misery upon my daughter, if she were innocent, as the hag had said; besides, that my daughter had freely confessed herself a witch. Hereupon I answered, that she had done that for fear of the torture; but that she was not afraid of death; whereupon I told him, with many sighs, how the sheriff had yesterday tempted me, miserable and unfaithful servant, to evil, insomuch that I had been willing to sell my only child to him and to Satan, and was not worthy to receive the sacrament to-day. Likewise how much more steadfast a faith my daughter had than I, as he might see from her letter, which I still carried in my pocket; herewith I gave it into his hand, and when he had read it, he sighed as though he had been himself a father, and said, "Were this true, I should sink into the earth for sorrow; but come, brother, come, that I may prove her faith myself." Hereupon we went up to the castle, and on our way we found the greensward before the hunting-lodge, _item_, the whole space in front of the castle, already crowded with people, who, nevertheless, were quite quiet as we went by: we gave our names again to the huntsman. (I have never been able to remember his name, seeing that he was a Polak; he was not, however, the same fellow who wooed my child, and whom the Sheriff had therefore turned off.) The man presently ushered us into a fine large room, whither my child had been led when taken out of her prison. The maid had already dressed her, and she looked lovely as an angel. She wore the chain of gold with the effigy round her neck again, _item_, the garland in her hair, and she smiled as we entered, saying, "I am ready!" Whereat the reverend Martinus was sorely angered and shocked, saying, "Ah, thou ungodly woman, let no one tell me further of thine innocence! Thou art about to go to the holy sacrament, and from thence to death, and thou flauntest as a child of this world about to go to the dancing-room." Whereupon she answered and said, "Be not wroth with me, dear godfather, because that I would go into the presence of my good King of Heaven in the same garments wherein I appeared some time since before the good King of Sweden. For it strengthens my weak and trembling flesh, seeing I hope that my righteous Saviour will in like manner take me to his heart, and will also hand his effigy upon my neck when I stretch out my hands to him in all humility, and recite my _carmen_, saying, 'O Lamb of God, innocently slain upon the cross, give my thy peace, O Jesu!'" These words softened my dear gossip, and he spoke, saying, "Ah, child, child, I thought to have reproached thee, but thou hast constrained me to weep with thee: art thou, then, indeed innocent?" "Verily," said she, "to you, my honoured godfather, I may now own that I am innocent, as truly as I trust that God will aid me in my last hour through Jesus Christ. Amen." When the maid heard this, she made such outcries that I repented that I had suffered her to be present, and we all had enough to do to comfort her from the word of God till she became somewhat more tranquil; and when this was done, my dear gossip thus spake to my child: "If, indeed, thou dost so steadfastly maintain thine innocence, it is my duty, according to my conscience as a priest, to inform the worshipful court thereof"; and he was about to leave the room. But she withheld him, and fell upon the ground and clasped his knees, saying, "I beseech you, by the wounds of Jesus, to be silent. They would stretch me on the rack again, and uncover my nakedness, and I, wretched weak woman, would in such torture confess all that they would have me, especially if my father again be there, whereby both my soul and my body are tortured at once: wherefore stay, I pray you, stay; is it, then, a misfortune to die innocent, and is it not better to die innocent than guilty?" My good gossip at last gave way, and after standing awhile and praying to himself, he wiped away his tears, and then spake the exhortation to confession, in the words of Isaiah xliii. 1, 2, "But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not; for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." And when he had ended this comfortable address, and asked her whether she would willingly bear until her last hour that cross which the most merciful God according to his unsearchable will had laid upon her, she spake such beautiful words that my gossip afterwards said he should not forget them so long as he should live, seeing that he had never witnessed a bearing at once so full of faith and joy, and withal so deeply sorrowful. She spake after this manner: "Oh, holy cross, which my Jesus hath sanctified by his innocent suffering; oh, dear cross, which is laid upon me by the hand of a merciful Father; oh, blessed cross, whereby I am made like unto my Lord Jesus, and am called unto eternal glory and blessedness: how! shall I not willingly bear thee, thou sweet cross of my bridegroom, of my brother?" The reverend Johannes had scarce given us absolution, and after this, with many tears, the holy sacrament, when we heard a loud trampling upon the floor, and presently the impudent constable looked into the room and asked whether we were ready, seeing that the worshipful court was now waiting for us; and when he had been told that we were ready, my child would have first taken leave of me, but I forbade her, saying, "Not so; thou knowest that which thou hast promised me; ... 'and whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge: ... where thou diest will I die ...' if that the Lord, as I hope, will hear the ardent sighs of my poor soul." Hereupon she let me go, and embraced only the old maid-servant, thanking her for all the kindness she had shown her from her youth up, and begging her not to go with her to make her death yet more bitter by her cries. The faithful old creature was unable for a long time to say a word for tears. Howbeit at last she begged forgiveness of my child for that she unwittingly accused her, and said, that out of her wages she had bought five pounds' weight of flax to hasten her death; that the shepherd of Pudgla had that very morning taken it with him to Coserow, and that she should wind it closely round her body; for that she had seen how old wife Schurne, who was burnt in Liepe, had suffered great torments before she came to her death, by reason of the damp wood. But ere my child could thank her for this, the dreadful outcry of blood began in the judgment-chamber; for a voice cried as loudly as might be, "Woe upon the accursed witch, Mary Schweidler, because that she hath fallen off from the living God!" Then all the folk without cried, "Woe upon the accursed witch!" When I heard this I fell back against the wall, but my sweet child stroked my cheeks with her darling hands, and said, "Father, father, do but remember that the people likewise cried out against the innocent Jesus, 'Crucify him, crucify him!' Shall not we then drink of the cup which our Heavenly Father hath prepared for us?" Hereupon the door opened, and the constable walked in, amid a great tumult among the people, holding a drawn sword in his hand, which he bowed thrice before my child, and cried, "Woe upon the accursed witch, Mary Schweidler, because that she hath fallen off from the living God!" and all the folks in the hall and without the castle cried as loud as they could, "Woe upon the accursed witch!" Hereupon he said, "Mary Schweidler, come before the high and worshipful court to hear sentence of death passed upon thee!" Whereupon she followed him with us two miserable men (for _Pastor Benzensis_ was no less cast down than myself). As for the old maid-servant, she lay on the ground for dead. After we had with great pains pushed our way through all the people, the constable stood still before the open judgment-chamber, and once more bowed his sword before my child and cried for the third time, "Woe upon the accursed witch, Mary Schweidler, because that she hath fallen off from the living God!" And all the people, as well as the cruel judges themselves, cried as loud as they could, "Woe upon the accursed witch!" When we had entered the room, _Dom. Consul_ first asked my worthy gossip whether the witch had abode by her free avowal in confession; whereupon, after considering a short time, he answered, that he had best ask herself, for there she stood. According, taking up a paper which lay before him on the table, he spake as follows:--"Mary Schweidler, now that thou hast confessed, and received the holy and most honourable sacrament of the Lord's Supper, answer me once again these following questions:-- "1. Is it true that thou hast fallen off from the living God and given thyself up to Satan? "2. Is it true that thou hadst a spirit called _Disidaemonia_, who re-baptized thee and carnally knew thee? "3. Is it true that thou hast done all manner of mischief to the cattle? "4. Is it true that Satan appeared to thee on the Streckelberg in the likeness of a hairy giant?" When she had with many sighs said "Yes" to all these questions, he rose, took a wand in one hand and a second paper in the other, put his spectacles on his nose, and said, "Now, then, hear thy sentence." (This sentence I since copied: he would not let me see the other _Acta_, but pretended that they were at Wolgast. The sentence, however, was word for word as follows.) "We, the Sheriff and the Justices appointed to serve the high and worshipful criminal court. Inasmuch as Mary Schweidler, the daughter of Abraham Schweidlerus, the pastor of Coserow, hath, after the appointed inquisition, repeatedly made free confession that she hath a devil named _Disidaemonia_, the which did re-baptize her in the sea, and did also know her carnally; _item_, that she by his help did mischief to the cattle; that he also appeared to her on the Streckelberg in the likeness of a hairy giant. We do therefore by these presents make known and direct that _Rea_ be first duly torn four times on each breast with red-hot iron pincers, and after that be burned to death by fire, as a rightful punishment to herself and a warning to others. Nevertheless we, in pity for her youth, are pleased of our mercy to spare her the tearing with red-hot pincers, so that she shall only suffer death by the simple punishment of fire. Wherefore she is hereby condemned and judged accordingly on the part of the criminal court. "_Publicatum_ at the castle of Pudgla, the 30th day _mensis Augusti, anno Salutis_ 1630." As he spake the last word he brake his wand in two and threw the pieces before the feet of my innocent lamb, saying to the constable, "Now, do your duty!" But so many folks, both men and women, threw themselves on the ground to seize the pieces of the wand (seeing they are said to be good for the gout in the joints, _item_, for cattle when troubled with lice), that the constable fell to the earth over a woman who was on her knees before him, and his approaching death was thus foreshadowed to him by the righteous God. Something of the same sort likewise befell the Sheriff now for the second time; for when the worshipful court rose, throwing down tables, stools, and benches, a table, under which two boys were fighting for the pieces of the wand, fell right upon his foot, whereupon he flew into a violent rage, and threatened the people with his fist, saying that they should have fifty right good lashes a-piece, both men and women, if they were not quiet forthwith, and did not depart peaceably out of the room. This frighted them, and after the people were gone out into the street, the constable took a rope out of his pocket, wherewith he bound my lamb her hands so tightly behind her back that she cried aloud; but when she saw how this wrung my heart, she straightway constrained herself and said, "Oh, father, remember that it fared no better with the blessed Saviour!" Howbeit, when my dear gossip, who stood behind her, saw that her little hands, and more especially her nails, had turned black and blue, he spoke for her to the worshipful court, whereupon the abominable Sheriff only said, "Oh, let her be; let her feel what it is to fall off from the living God." But _Dom. Consul_ was more merciful, inasmuch as, after feeling the cords, he bade the constable bind her hands less cruelly and slacken the rope a little, which accordingly he was forced to do. But my dear gossip was not content herewith, and begged that she might sit in the cart without being bound, so that she should be able to hold her hymn-book, for he had summoned the school to sing a hymn by the way for her comfort, and he was ready to answer for it with his own head that she should not escape out of the cart. Moreover; it is the custom for fellows with pitchforks always to go with the carts wherein condemned criminals, and more especially witches, are carried to execution. But this the cruel Sheriff would not suffer, and the rope was left upon her hands, and the impudent constable seized her by the arm and led her from the judgment-chamber. But in the hall we saw a great _scandalum_, which again pierced my very heart. For the housekeeper and the impudent constable his wife were fighting for my child her bed, and her linen, and wearing apparel, which the housekeeper had taken for herself, and which the other woman wanted to have. The latter now called to her husband to help her, whereupon he straightway let go my daughter and struck the housekeeper on her mouth with his fist, so that the blood ran out therefrom, and she shrieked and wailed fearfully to the Sheriff, who followed us with the court. He threatened them both in vain, and said that when he came back he would inquire into the matter and give to each her due share. But they would not hearken to this, until my daughter asked _Dom. Consul_ whether every dying person, even a condemned criminal, had power to leave his goods and chattels to whomsoever he would? and when he answered, "Yes, all but the clothes, which belong of right to the executioner," she said, "Well, then, the constable may take my clothes, but none shall have my bed save my faithful old maid-servant Ilse!" Hereupon the housekeeper began to curse and revile my child loudly, who heeded her not, but stepped out at the door toward the cart, where there stood so many people that nought could be seen save head against head. The folks crowded about us so tumultuously that the Sheriff, who, meanwhile, had mounted his grey horse, constantly smote them right and left across their eyes with his riding-whip, but they nevertheless would scarce fall back. Howbeit, at length he cleared the way, and when about ten fellows with long pitchforks, who for the most part also had rapiers at their sides, had placed themselves round about our cart, the constable lifted my daughter up into it, and bound her fast to the rail. Old Paasch, who stood by, lifted me up, and my dear gossip was likewise forced to be lifted in, so weak had he become from all the distress. He motioned his sexton, Master Krekow, to walk before the cart with the school, and bade him from time to time lead a verse of the goodly hymn, "On God alone I rest my fate," which he promised to do. And here I will also note, that I myself sat down upon the straw by my daughter, and that our dear confessor the reverend Martinus sat backwards. The constable was perched up behind with his drawn sword. When all this was done, _item_, the court mounted up into another carriage, the Sheriff gave the order to set out. _The Twenty-seventh Chapter_ OF THAT WHICH BEFELL US BY THE WAY: _ITEM_, OF THE FEARFUL DEATH OF THE SHERIFF AT THE MILL We met with many wonders by the way, and with great sorrow; for hard by the bridge, over the brook which runs into the Schmolle, stood the housekeeper her hateful boy, who beat a drum and cried aloud, "Come to the roast goose! come to the roast goose!" whereupon the crowd set up a loud laugh, and called out after him, "Yes, indeed, to the roast goose! to the roast goose!" Howbeit, when Master Krekow led the second verse the folks became somewhat quieter again, and most of them joined in singing it from their books, which they had brought with them. But when he ceased singing awhile the noise began again as bad as before. Some cried out, "The devil hath given her these clothes, and hath adorned her after that fashion"; and seeing the Sheriff had ridden on before, they came close round the cart, and felt her garments, more especially the women and young maidens. Others, again, called loudly, as the young varlet had done, "Come to the roast goose! come to the roast goose!" whereupon one fellow answered, "She will not let herself be roasted yet; mind ye that: she will quench the fire!" This, and much filthiness beside, which I may not for very shame write down, we were forced to hear, and it especially cut me to the heart to hear a fellow swear that he would have some of her ashes, seeing he had not been able to get any of the wand, and that nought was better for the fever and the gout than the ashes of a witch. I motioned the _Custos_ to begin singing again, whereupon the folks were once more quiet for a while--_i.e._, for so long as the verse lasted; but afterwards they rioted worse than before. But we were now come among the meadows, and when my child saw the beauteous flowers which grew along the sides of the ditches, she fell into deep thought, and began again to recite aloud the sweet song of St. Augustinus as follows:-- Flos perpetuus rosarum ver agit perpetuum, Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum, Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt, Pigmentorum spirat odor liquor et aromatum, Pendent poma floridorum non lapsura nemorum, Non alternat luna vices, sol vel cursus syderum, Agnus est faelicis urbis lumen inocciduum. By this _Casus_ we gained that all the folk ran cursing away from the cart, and followed us at the distance of a good musket-shot, thinking that my child was calling on Satan to help her. Only one lad, of about five-and-twenty, whom, however, I did not know, tarried a few paces behind the cart, until his father came, and seeing he would not go away willingly, pushed him into the ditch, so that he sank up to his loins in the water. Thereat even my poor child smiled, and asked me whether I did not know any more Latin hymns wherewith to keep the stupid and foul-mouthed people still further from us. But, dear reader, how could I then have been able to recite Latin hymns, even had I known any? But my _confrater_, the reverend Martinus, knew such an one; albeit it is indeed heretical; nevertheless, seeing that it above measure pleased my child, and that she made him repeat to her sundry verses thereof three and four times, until she could say them after him, I said nought; otherwise I have ever been very severe against aught that is heretical. Howbeit I comforted myself therewith that our Lord God would forgive her in consideration of her ignorance. And the first line ran as follows:--_Dies irae, dies ilia_. But these two verses pleased her more than all the rest, and she recited them many times with great edification, wherefore I will insert them here. Judex ergo cum sedebit Quidquid latet apparebit, Nil inultum remanebit: _Item_, Rex tremends majestatis! Qui salvandos salvas gratis, Salva me, fons pietatis! When the men with the pitchforks, who were round about the cart, heard this, and at the same time saw a heavy storm coming up from the Achterwater, they straightway thought no other but that my child had made it; and, moreover, the folk behind cried out, "The witch hath done this; the damned witch hath done this!" and all the ten, save one, who stayed behind, jumped over the ditch, and ran away. But _Dom. Consul_, who, together with the worshipful court, drove behind us, no sooner saw this than he called to the constable, "What is the meaning of all this?" Whereupon the constable cried aloud to the Sheriff, who was a little way on before us, but who straightway turned him about, and when he had heard the cause, called after the fellows that he would hang them all up on the first tree, and feed his falcons with their flesh, if they did not return forthwith. This threat had its effect; and when they came back he gave each of them about half a dozen strokes with his riding-whip, whereupon they tarried in their places, but as far off from the cart as they could for the ditch. Meanwhile, however, the storm came up from the southward, with thunder, lightning, hail, and such a wind, as though the all-righteous God would manifest his wrath against these ruthless murderers; and the tops of the lofty beeches around us were beaten together like besoms, so that our cart was covered with leaves as with hail, and no one could hear his own voice for the noise. This happened just as we were entering the forest from the convent dam, and the Sheriff now rode close behind us, beside the coach wherein was _Dom. Consul_. Moreover, just as we were crossing the bridge over the mill-race, we were seized by the blast, which swept up a hollow from the Achterwater with such force that we conceived it must drive our cart down the abyss, which was at least forty feet deep or more; and seeing that, at the same time, the horses did as though they were upon ice, and could not stand, the driver halted to let the storm pass over, the which the Sheriff no sooner perceived than he galloped up and bade him go on forthwith. Whereupon the man flogged on the horses, but they slipped about after so strange a fashion that our guards with the pitchforks fell back, and my child cried aloud for fear; and when we were come to the place where the great waterwheel turned just below us, the driver fell with his horse, which broke one of its legs. Then the constable jumped down from the cart, but straightway fell too on the slippery ground; _item_, the driver, after getting on his legs again, fell a second time. Hereupon the Sheriff, with a curse, spurred on his grey charger, which likewise began to slip as our horses had also done. Nevertheless, he came sliding towards us, without, however, falling down; and when he saw that the horse with the broken leg still tried to get up, but always straightway fell again on the slippery ground, he hallooed and beckoned the fellows with pitchforks to come and unharness the mare; _item_, to push the cart over the bridge, lest it should be carried down the precipice. Presently a long flash of lightning shot into the water below us, followed by a clap of thunder so sudden and so awful that the whole bridge shook, and the Sheriff his horse (our horses stood quite still) started back a few paces, lost its footing, and, together with its rider, shot headlong down upon the great mill-wheel below, whereupon a fearful cry arose from all those that stood behind us on the bridge. For a while nought could be seen for the white foam, until the Sheriff his legs and body were borne up into the air by the wheel, his head being stuck fast between the fellies; and thus, fearful to behold, he went round and round upon the wheel. Naught ailed the grey charger, which swam about in the mill-pond below. When I saw this I seized the hand of my innocent lamb, and cried, "Behold, Mary, our Lord God yet liveth! 'and he rode upon a cherub, and did fly; yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. Then did he beat them small as the dust before the wind; he did cast them out as the dirt in the streets.' Look down, and see what the Almighty God hath done." While she hereupon raised her eyes towards heaven with a sigh, we heard _Dom. Consul_ calling out behind us as loudly as he could: and seeing that none could understand his words for the fearful storm and the tumult of the waters, he jumped down from the coach, and would have crossed the bridge on foot, but straightway he fell upon his nose, so that it bled, and he crept back again on his hands and feet, and held a long talk with _Dom. Camerarius_, who, howbeit, did not stir out of the coach. Meanwhile the driver and the constable had unyoked the maimed horse, bound it, and dragged it off the bridge, and now they came back to the cart and bade us get down therefrom and cross the bridge on foot, the which we did after the constable had unbound my child with many curses and ill words, threatening that, in return for her malice, he would keep her roasting till late in the evening. (I could not blame him much therefore; for truly this was a strange thing!) But albeit my child herself got safe across, we two--I mean reverend Martinus and myself--like all the others, fell two or three times to the ground. At length we all, by God his grace, got safe and sound to the miller's house, where the constable delivered my child into the miller his hands, to guard her on forfeit of his life, while he ran down to the mill-pond to save the Sheriff his grey charger. The driver was bidden the while to get the cart and the other horses off the bewitched bridge. We had, however, stood but a short time with the miller, under the great oak before his door, when _Dom. Consul_, with the worshipful court, and all the folks, came over the little bridge, which is but a couple of musket-shots off from the first one, and he could scarce prevent the crowd from falling upon my child and tearing her in pieces, seeing that they all, as well as _Dom. Consul_ himself, imagined that none other but she had brewed the storm and bewitched the bridge (especially as she herself had not fallen thereon), and had likewise caused the Sheriff his death; all of which, nevertheless, were foul lies, as ye shall hereafter hear. He, therefore, railed at her for a cursed she-devil, who, even after having confessed and received the holy Sacrament, had not yet renounced Satan; but that nought should save her, and she should, nevertheless, receive her reward. And, seeing that she kept silence, I hereupon answered, "Did he not see that the all-righteous God had so ordered it, that the Sheriff, who would have robbed my innocent child of her honour and her life, had here forfeited his own life as a fearful example to others?" But _Dom. Consul_ would not see this, and said that a child might perceive that our Lord God had not made this storm, or did I peradventure believe that our Lord God had likewise bewitched the bridge? I had better cease to justify my wicked child, and rather begin to exhort her to repent, seeing that this was the second time that she had brewed a storm, and that no man with a grain of sense could believe what I said, etc. Meanwhile the miller had already stopped the mill, _item_, turned off the water, and some four or five fellows had gone with the constable down to the great water-wheel to take the Sheriff out of the fellies, wherein he had till _datum_ still been carried round and round. This they could not do until they had first sawn out one of the fellies; and when at last they brought him to the bank, his neck was found to be broken, and he was as blue as a corn-flower. Moreover, his throat was frightfully torn, and the blood ran out of his nose and mouth. If the people had not reviled my child before, they reviled her doubly now, and would have thrown dirt and stones at her, had not the worshipful court interfered with might and main, saying that she would presently receive her well-deserved punishment. [Illustration: The Doom of the Wheel] Also, my dear gossip, the Reverend Martinus, climbed up into the cart again, and admonished the people not to forestall the law; and seeing that the storm had somewhat abated, he could now be heard. And when they had become somewhat more quiet, _Dom. Consul_ left the corpse of the Sheriff in charge with the miller, until such time as, by God's help, he should return. _Item_, he caused the grey charger to be tied up to the oak-tree till the same time, seeing that the miller swore that he had no room in the mill, inasmuch as his stable was filled with straw; but that he would give the grey horse some hay, and keep good watch over him. And now were we wretched creatures forced to get into the cart again, after that the unsearchable will of God had once more dashed all our hopes. The constable gnashed his teeth with rage, while he took the cords out of his pocket to bind my poor child to the rail withal. As I saw right well what he was about to do, I pulled a few groats out of my pocket, and whispered into his ear, "Be merciful, for she cannot possibly run away, and do you hereafter help her to die quickly, and you shall get ten groats more from me!" This worked well, and albeit he pretended before the people to pull the ropes tight, seeing they all cried out with might and main, "Haul hard, haul hard!" in truth he bound her hands more gently than before, and even without making her fast to the rail; but he sat up behind us again with the naked sword, and after that _Dom. Consul_ had prayed aloud, "God the Father, dwell with us," likewise the _Custos_ had led another hymn (I know not what he sang, neither does my child), we went on our way, according to the unfathomable will of God, after this fashion: the worshipful court went before, whereas all the folks, to our great joy, fell back, and the fellows with the pitchforks lingered a good way behind us, now that the Sheriff was dead. _The Twenty-eighth Chapter_ HOW MY DAUGHTER WAS AT LENGTH SAVED BY THE HELP OF THE ALL-MERCIFUL, YEA, OF THE ALL-MERCIFUL GOD Meanwhile, by reason of my unbelief, wherewith Satan again tempted me, I had become so weak that I was forced to lean my back against the constable his knees, and expected not to live till even we should come to the mountain; for the last hope I had cherished was now gone, and I saw that my innocent lamb was in the same plight. Moreover, the reverend Martinus began to upbraid her, saying that he, too, now saw that all her oaths were lies, and that she really could brew storms. Hereupon, she answered with a smile, although, indeed, she was as white as a sheet, "Alas, reverend godfather, do you then really believe that the weather and the storms no longer obey our Lord God? Are storms, then, so rare at this season of the year, that none save the foul fiend can cause them? Nay, I have never broken the baptismal vow you once made in my name, nor will I ever break it, as I hope that God will be merciful to me in my last hour, which is now at hand." But the reverend Martinus shook his head doubtingly, and said, "The Evil One must have promised thee much, seeing thou remainest so stubborn even unto thy life's end, and blasphemest the Lord thy God; but wait, and thou wilt soon learn with horror that the devil 'is a liar, and the father of it'" (St. John viii.). Whilst he yet spake this, and more of a like kind, we came to Uekeritze, where all the people, both great and small, rushed out of their doors, also Jacob Schwarten his wife, who, as we afterwards heard, had only been brought to bed the night before, and her goodman came running after her to fetch her back, in vain. She told him he was a fool, and had been one for many a weary day, and that if she had to crawl up the mountain on her bare knees, she would go to see the parson's witch burned; that she had reckoned upon it for so long, and if he did not let her go, she would give him a thump on the chaps, etc. Thus did the coarse and foul-mouthed people riot around the cart wherein we sat, and as they knew not what had befallen, they ran so near us that the wheel went over the foot of a boy. Nevertheless, they all crowded up again, more especially the lasses, and felt my daughter her clothes, and would even see her shoes and stockings, and asked her how she felt. _Item_, one fellow asked whether she would drink somewhat, with many more fooleries besides, till at last, when several came and asked her for her garland and her golden chain, she turned towards me and smiled, saying, "Father, I must begin to speak some Latin again, otherwise the folks will leave me no peace." But it was not wanted this time; for our guards, with the pitchforks, had now reached the hindmost, and, doubtless, told them what had happened, as we presently heard a great shouting behind us, for the love of God to turn back before the witch did them a mischief; and as Jacob Schwarten his wife heeded it not, but still plagued my child to give her her apron to make a christening coat for her baby, for that it was pity to let it be burnt, her goodman gave her such a thump on her back with a knotted stick which he had pulled out of the hedge that she fell down with loud shrieks; and when he went to help her up she pulled him down by his hair, and, as reverend Martinus said, now executed what she had threatened; inasmuch as she struck him on the nose with her fist with might and main, until the other people came running up to them, and held her back. Meanwhile, however, the storm had almost passed over, and sank down toward the sea. And when we had gone through the little wood, we suddenly saw the Streckelberg before us, covered with people, and the pile and stake upon the top, upon the which the tall constable jumped up when he saw us coming, and beckoned with his cap with all his might. Thereat my senses left me, and my sweet lamb was not much better; for she bent to and fro like a reed, and stretching her bound hands towards heaven, she once more cried out: Rex tremendae majestatis! Qui salvandos salvas gratis, Salva me, fons pietatis! And, behold, scarce had she spoken these words, when the sun came out and formed a rainbow right over the mountain most pleasant to behold; and it is clear that this was a sign from the merciful God, such as he often gives us, but which we blind and unbelieving men do not rightly mark. Neither did my child heed it; for albeit she thought upon that first rainbow which shadowed forth our troubles, yet it seemed to her impossible that she could now be saved, wherefore she grew so faint, that she no longer heeded the blessed sign of mercy, and her head fell forward (for she could no longer lean it upon me, seeing that I lay my length at the bottom of the cart), till her garland almost touched my worthy gossip his knees. Thereupon he bade the driver stop for a moment, and pulled out a small flask filled with wine, which he always carries in his pocket when witches are to be burnt, in order to comfort them therewith in their terror. (Henceforth, I myself will ever do the like, for this fashion of my dear gossip pleases me well.) He first poured some of this wine down my throat, and afterwards down my child's; and we had scarce come to ourselves again, when a fearful noise and tumult arose among the people behind us, and they not only cried out in deadly fear, "The Sheriff is come back! the Sheriff is come again!" but as they could neither run away forwards or backwards (being afraid of the ghost behind and of my child before them), they ran on either side, some rushing into the coppice, and others wading into the Achterwater up to their necks. _Item_, as soon as _Dom. Camerarius_ saw the ghost come out of the coppice with a grey hat and a grey feather, such as the Sheriff wore, riding on the grey charger, he crept under a bundle of straw in the cart: and _Dom. Consul_ cursed my child again, and bade the coachman drive on as madly as they could, even should all the horses die of it, when the impudent constable behind us called to him, "It is not the Sheriff, but the young lord of Nienkerken, who will surely seek to save the witch: shall I, then, cut her throat with my sword?" At these fearful words my child and I came to ourselves again, and the fellow had already lift up his naked sword to smite her, seeing _Dom. Consul_ had made him a sign with his hand, when my dear gossip, who saw it, pulled my child with all his strength back into his lap. (May God reward him on the day of judgment, for I never can.) The villain would have stabbed her as she lay in his lap; but the young lord was already there, and seeing what he was about to do, thrust the boarspear, which he held in his hand, in between the constable's shoulders, so that he fell headlong on the earth, and his own sword, by the guidance of the most righteous God, went into his ribs on one side, and out again at the other. He lay there and bellowed, but the young lord heeded him not, but said to my child, "Sweet maid, God be praised that you are safe!" When, however, he saw her bound hands, he gnashed his teeth, and, cursing her judges, he jumped off his horse, and cut the rope with his sword, which he held in his right hand, took her hand in his, and said, "Alas, sweet maid, how have I sorrowed for you! but I could not save you, as I myself also lay in chains, which you may see from my looks." But my child could answer him never a word, and fell into a swound again for joy; howbeit, she soon came to herself again, seeing my dear gossip still had a little wine by him. Meanwhile the dear young lord did me some injustice, which, however, I freely forgive him; for he railed at me and called me an old woman, who could do nought save weep and wail. Why had I not journeyed after the Swedish king, or why had I not gone to Mellenthin myself to fetch his testimony, as I knew right well what he thought about witchcraft? (But, blessed God, how could I do otherwise than believe the judge, who had been there? Others, besides old women, would have done the same; and I never once thought of the Swedish king; and say, dear reader, how could I have journeyed after him, and left my own child? But young folks do not think of these things seeing they know not what a father feels.) Meanwhile, however, _Dom. Camerarius_, having heard that it was the young lord, had again crept out from beneath the straw, _item, Dom. Consul_ had jumped down from the coach and ran towards us, railing at him loudly, and asking him by what power and authority he acted thus, seeing that he himself had heretofore denounced the ungodly witch? But the young lord pointed with his sword to his people, who now came riding out of the coppice, about eighteen strong, armed with sabres, pikes, and muskets, and said, "There is my authority, and I would let you feel it on your back if I did not know that you were but a stupid ass. When did you hear any testimony from me against this virtuous maiden? You lie in your throat if you say you did." And as _Dom. Consul_ stood and straightway forswore himself, the young lord, to the astonishment of all, related as follows:--That as soon as he heard of the misfortune which had befallen me and my child, he ordered his horse to be saddled forthwith, in order to ride to Pudgla to bear witness to our innocence: this, however, his old father would nowise suffer, thinking that his nobility would receive a stain if it came to be known that his son had conversed with a reputed witch by night on the Streckelberg. He had caused him therefore, as prayers and threats were of no avail, to be bound hand and foot, and confined in the donjon-keep, where till _datum_ an old servant had watched him, who refused to let him escape, notwithstanding he offered him any sum of money; whereupon he fell into the greatest anguish and despair at the thought that innocent blood would be shed on his account; but that the all-righteous God had graciously spared him this sorrow; for his father had fallen sick from vexation, and lay a-bed all this time, and it so happened that this very morning about prayer-time the huntsman, in shooting at a wild duck in the moat, had by chance sorely wounded his father's favourite dog, called Packan, which had crept howling to his father's bedside, and had died there; whereupon the old man, who was weak, was so angered that he was presently seized with a fit and gave up the ghost too. Hereupon his people released him, and after he had closed his father's eyes and prayed an "Our Father" over him, he straightway set out with all the people he could find in the castle in order to save the innocent maiden. For he testified here himself before all, on the word and honour of a knight, nay, more, by his hopes of salvation, that he himself was that devil which had appeared to the maiden on the mountain in the shape of a hairy giant; for having heard by common report that she ofttimes went thither, he greatly desired to know what she did there, and that from fear of his hard father he disguised himself in a wolf's skin, so that none might know him, and he had already spent two nights there, when on the third the maiden came, and he then saw her dig for amber on the mountain, and that she did not call upon Satan, but recited a Latin _carmen_ aloud to herself. This he would have testified at Pudgla, but, from the cause aforesaid, he had not been able: moreover, his father had laid his cousin, Claus von Nienkerken, who was there on a visit, in his bed, and made him bear false witness; for as _Dom. Consul_ had not seen him (I mean the young lord) for many a long year, seeing he had studied in foreign parts, his father thought that he might easily be deceived, which accordingly happened. When the worthy young lord had stated this before _Dom. Consul_ and all the people, which flocked together on hearing that the young lord was no ghost, I felt as though a millstone had been taken off my heart; and seeing that the people (who had already pulled the constable from under the cart, and crowded round him, like a swarm of bees) cried to me that he was dying, but desired first to confess somewhat to me, I jumped from the cart as lightly as a young bachelor, and called to _Dom. Consul_ and the young lord to go with me, seeing that I could easily guess what he had on his mind. He sat upon a stone, and the blood gushed from his side like a fountain (now that they had drawn out the sword); he whimpered on seeing me, and said that he had in truth hearkened behind the door to all that old Lizzie had confessed to me, namely, that she herself, together with the Sheriff, had worked all the witchcraft on man and beast, to frighten my poor child, and force her to play the wanton. That he had hidden this, seeing that the Sheriff had promised him a great reward for so doing; but that he would now confess it freely, since God had brought my child her innocence to light. Wherefore he besought my child and myself to forgive him. And when _Dom. Consul_ shook his head, and asked whether he would live and die on the truth of this confession, he answered, "Yes!" and straightway fell on his side to the earth and gave up the ghost. Meanwhile time hung heavy with the people on the mountain, who had come from Coserow, from Zitze, from Gnitze, etc., to see my child burnt, and they all came running down the hill in long rows like geese, one after the other, to see what had happened. And among them was my ploughman, Claus Neels. When the worthy fellow saw and heard what had befallen us, he began to weep aloud for joy; and straightway he too told what he had heard the Sheriff say to old Lizzie in the garden, and how he had promised a pig in the room of her own little pig, which she had herself bewitched to death in order to bring my child into evil repute. _Summa_: all that I have noted above, and which till _datum_ he had kept to himself for fear of the question. Hereat all the people marvelled, and gently bewailed her misfortunes; and many came, among them old Paasch, and would have kissed my daughter her hands and feet, as also mine own, and praised us now as much as they had before reviled us. But thus it ever is with the people. Wherefore my departed father used to say: The people's hate is death, Their love a passing breath! My dear gossip ceased not from fondling my child, holding her in his lap, and weeping over her like a father (for I could not have wept more myself than he wept). Howbeit she herself wept not, but begged the young lord to send one of his horsemen to her faithful old maid-servant at Pudgla, to tell her what had befallen us, which he straightway did to please her. But the worshipful court (for _Dom. Gamerarius_ and the _scriba_ had now plucked up a heart, and had come down from the coach) was not yet satisfied, and _Dom. Consul_ began to tell the young lord about the bewitched bridge, which none other save my daughter could have bewitched. Hereto the young lord gave answer that this was indeed a strange thing, inasmuch as his own horse had also broken a leg thereon, whereupon he had taken the Sheriff his horse, which he saw tied up at the mill; but he did not think that this could be laid to the charge of the maiden, but that it came about by natural means, as he had half discovered already, although he had not had time to search the matter thoroughly. Wherefore he besought the worshipful court and all the people, together with my child herself, to return back thither, where, with God's help, he would clear her from this suspicion also, and prove her perfect innocence before them all. Thereunto the worshipful court agreed; and the young lord, having given the Sheriff his grey charger to my ploughman to carry the corpse, which had been laid across the horse's neck, to Coserow, the young lord got into the cart by us, but did not seat himself beside my child, but backward by my dear gossip: moreover, he bade one of his own people drive us instead of the old coachman, and thus we turned back in God his name. _Custos Benzensis_, who, with the children, had run in among the vetches by the wayside (my defunct _Custos_ would not have done so, he had more courage), went on before again with the young folks, and by command of his reverence the pastor led the Ambrosian _Te Deum_, which deeply moved us all, more especially my child, insomuch that her book was wetted with her tears, and she at length laid it down and said, at the same time giving her hand to the young lord, "How can I thank God and you for that which you have done for me this day?" Whereupon the young lord answered, saying, "I have greater cause to thank God than yourself, sweet maid, seeing that you have suffered in your dungeon unjustly, but I justly, inasmuch as by my thoughtlessness I brought this misery upon you. Believe me that this morning when, in my donjon-keep, I first heard the sound of the dead-bell, I thought to have died; and when it tolled for the third time, I should have gone distraught in my grief, had not the Almighty God at that moment taken the life of my strange father, so that your innocent life should be saved by me. Wherefore I have vowed a new tower, and whatsoe'er beside may be needful, to the blessed house of God; for nought more bitter could have befallen me on earth than your death, sweet maid, and nought more sweet than your life!" But at these words my child only wept and sighed; and when he looked on her, she cast down her eyes and trembled, so that I straightway perceived that my sorrows were not yet come to an end, but that another barrel of tears was just tapped for me, and so indeed it was. Moreover, the ass of a _Custos_, having finished the _Te Deum_ before we were come to the bridge, straightway struck up the next following hymn, which was a funeral one, beginning, "The body let us now inter." (God be praised that no harm has come of it till _datum_.) My beloved gossip rated him not a little, and threatened him that for his stupidity he should not get the money for the shoes which he had promised him out of the Church-dues. But my child comforted him, and promised him a pair of shoes at her own charges, seeing that peradventure a funeral hymn was better for her than a song of gladness. And when this vexed the young lord, and he said, "How now, sweet maid, you know not how enough to thank God and me for your rescue, and yet you speak thus?" She answered, smiling sadly, that she had only spoken thus to comfort the poor _Custos_. But I straightway saw that she was in earnest, for that she felt that although she had escaped one fire, she already burned in another. Meanwhile we were come to the bridge again, and all the folks stood still, and gazed open-mouthed, when the young lord jumped down from the cart, and after stabbing his horse, which still lay kicking on the bridge, went on his knees, and felt here and there with his hand. At length he called to the worshipful court to draw near, for that he had found out the witchcraft. But none save _Dom. Consul_ and a few fellows out of the crowd, among whom was old Paasch, would follow him; _item_, my dear gossip and myself, and the young lord, showed us a lump of tallow about the size of a large walnut, which lay on the ground, and wherewith the whole bridge had been smeared, so that it looked quite white, but, which all the folks in their fright had taken for flour out of the mill; _item_, with some other _materia_, which stunk like fitchock's dung, but what it was we could not find out. Soon after a fellow found another bit of tallow, and showed it to the people; whereupon I cried, "Aha! none hath done this but that ungodly miller's man, in revenge for the stripes which the Sheriff gave him for reviling my child." Whereupon I told what he had done, and _Dom. Consul_, who also had heard thereof, straightway sent for the miller. He, however, did as though he knew nought of the matter, and only said that his man had left his service about an hour ago. But a young lass, the miller's maid-servant, said that that very morning, before daybreak, when she had got up to let out the cattle, she had seen the man scouring the bridge. But that she had given it no further heed, and had gone to sleep for another hour; and she pretended to know no more than the miller whither the rascal was gone. When the young lord had heard this news, he got up into the cart, and began to address the people, seeking to persuade them no longer to believe in witchcraft, now that they had seen what it really was. When I heard this, I was horror-stricken (as was but right) in my conscience, as a priest, and I got upon the cartwheel, and whispered into his ear, for God his sake, to leave this _materia_, seeing that if the people no longer feared the devil, neither would they fear our Lord God. The dear young lord forthwith did as I would have him, and only asked the people whether they now held my child to be perfectly innocent? and when they had answered, "Yes!" he begged them to go quietly home, and to thank God that he had saved innocent blood. That he, too, would now return home, and that he hoped that none would molest me and my child if he let us return to Coserow alone. Hereupon he turned hastily towards her, took her hand and said: "Farewell, sweet maid, I trust that I shall soon clear your honour before the world, but do you thank God therefor, not me." He then did the like to me and to my dear gossip, whereupon he jumped down from the cart, and went and sat beside _Dom. Consul_ in his coach. The latter also spake a few words to the people, and likewise begged my child and me to forgive him (and I must say it to his honour, that the tears ran down his cheeks the while), but he was so hurried by the young lord that he brake short his discourse, and they drove off over the little bridge, without so much as looking back. Only _Dom. Consul_ looked round once, and called out to me, that in his hurry he had forgotten to tell the executioner that no one was to be burned to-day: I was therefore to send the churchwarden of Uekeritze up the mountain, to say so in his name; the which I did. And the bloodhound was still on the mountain, albeit he had long since heard what had befallen; and when the bailiff gave him the orders of the worshipful court, he began to curse so fearfully that it might have awakened the dead; moreover, he plucked off his cap, and trampled it under foot, so that any one might have guessed what he felt. But to return to ourselves, my child sat as still and as white as a pillar of salt, after the young lord had left her so suddenly and so unawares, but she was somewhat comforted when the old maid-servant came running with her coats tucked up to her knees, and carrying her shoes and stockings in her hands. We heard her afar off, as the mill had stopped, blubbering for joy, and she fell at least three times on the bridge, but at last she got over safe, and kissed now mine and now my child her hands and feet; begging us only not to turn her away, but to keep her until her life's end; the which we promised to do. She had to climb up behind where the impudent constable had sat, seeing that my dear gossip would not leave me until I should be back in mine own manse. And as the young lord his servant had got up behind the coach, old Paasch drove us home, and all the folks who had waited till _datum_ ran beside the cart, praising and pitying as much as they had before scorned and reviled us. Scarce, however, had we passed through Uekeritze, when we again heard cries of "Here comes the young lord, here comes the young lord!" so that my child started up for joy, and became as red as a rose; but some of the folks ran into the buckwheat, by the road, again, thinking it was another ghost. It was, however, in truth, the young lord who galloped up on a black horse, calling out as he drew near us, "Notwithstanding the haste I am in, sweet maid, I must return and give you safe-conduct home, seeing that I have just heard that the filthy people reviled you by the way, and I know not whether you are yet safe." Hereupon he urged old Paasch to mend his pace, and as his kicking and trampling did not even make the horses trot, the young lord struck the saddle-horse from time to time with the flat of his sword, so that we soon reached the village and the manse. Howbeit, when I prayed him to dismount a while, he would not, but excused himself, saying that he must still ride through Usedom to Anclam, but charged old Paasch, who was our bailiff, to watch over my child as the apple of his eye, and should anything unusual happen he was straightway to inform the town-clerk at Pudgla, or _Dom. Consul_ at Usedom, thereof, and when Paasch had promised to do this, he waved his hand to us, and galloped off as fast as he could. But before he got round the corner by Pagel his house, he turned back for the third time: and when we wondered thereat, he said we must forgive him, seeing his thoughts wandered to-day. That I had formerly told him that I still had my patent of nobility, the which he begged me to lend him for a time. Hereupon I answered that I must first seek for it, and that he had best dismount the while. But he would not, and again excused himself, saying he had no time. He therefore stayed without the door, until I brought him the patent, whereupon he thanked me and said, "Do not wonder hereat, you will soon see what my purpose is." Whereupon he struck his spurs into his horse's sides and did not come back again. _The Twenty-ninth Chapter_ OF OUR NEXT GREAT SORROW, AND FINAL JOY And now might we have been at rest, and have thanked God on our knees by day and night. For, besides mercifully saving us out of such great tribulation, he turned the hearts of my beloved flock, so that they knew not how to do enough for us. Every day they brought us fish, meat, eggs, sausages, and whatsoe'er besides they could give me, and which I have since forgotten. Moreover they, every one of them, came to church the next Sunday, great and small (except goodwife Kliene of Zempin, who had just got a boy, and still kept her bed), and I preached a thanks-giving sermon on Job v. 17, 18, and 19 verses, "Behold, happy is the man whom God correcteth; therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty: for he maketh sore, and bindeth up; and his hands make whole. He shall deliver thee in six troubles, yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee." And during my sermon I was ofttimes forced to stop by reason of all the weeping, and to let them blow their noses. And I might truly have compared myself to Job, after that the Lord had mercifully released him from his troubles, had it not been for my child, who prepared much fresh grief for me. She had wept when the young lord would not dismount, and now that he came not again, she grew more uneasy from day to day. She sat and read first the Bible, then the hymn-book, _item_, the history of Dido in _Virgilius_, or she climbed up the mountain to fetch flowers (likewise sought after the vein of amber there, but found it not, which shows the cunning and malice of Satan). I saw this for a while with many sighs, but spake not a word (for, dear reader, what could I say?) until it grew worse and worse; and as she now recited her _carmina_ more than ever both at home and abroad, I feared lest the people should again repute her a witch, and one day I followed her up the mountain. Well-a-day, she sat on the pile, which still stood there, but with her face turned towards the sea, reciting the _versus_ where Dido mounts the funeral pile in order to stab herself for love of AEneas:-- At trepida et coeptis immanibus effera Dido Sanguineam volvens aciem, maculisque trementes Interfusa genas, et pallida morte futurâ Interiora domus irrumpit limina et altos Conscendit furibunda rogos.... When I saw this, and heard how things really stood with her, I was affrighted beyond measure, and cried, "Mary, my child, what art thou doing?" She started when she heard my voice, but sat still on the pile, and answered, as she covered her face with her apron, "Father, I am burning my heart." I drew near to her and pulled the apron from her face, saying, "Wilt thou, then, again kill me with grief?" whereupon she covered her face with her hands, and moaned, "Alas, father, wherefore was I not burned here? My torment would then have endured but for a moment, but now it will last as long as I live!" I still did as though I had seen nought, and said, "Wherefore, dear child, dost thou suffer such torment?" whereupon she answered, "I have long been ashamed to tell you; for the young lord, the young lord, my father, do I suffer this torment! He no longer thinks of me; and albeit he saved my life he scorns me, or he would surely have dismounted and come in a while; but we are of far too low degree for him!" Hereupon I indeed began to comfort her and to persuade her to think no more of the young lord; but the more I comforted her, the worse she grew. Nevertheless I saw that she did yet in secret cherish a strong hope by reason of the patent of nobility which he had made me give him. I would not take this hope from her, seeing that I felt the same myself, and to comfort her I flattered her hopes, whereupon she was more quiet for some days, and did not go up the mountain, the which I had forbidden her. Moreover, she began again to teach little Paasch her god-daughter, out of whom, by the help of the all-righteous God, Satan was now altogether departed. But she still pined, and was as white as a sheet; and when soon after a report came that none in the castle at Mellenthin knew what was become of the young lord, and that they thought he had been killed, her grief became so great that I had to send my ploughman on horseback to Mellenthin to gain tidings of him. And she looked at least twenty times out of the door and over the paling to watch for his return; and when she saw him coming she ran out to meet him as far as the corner by Pagels. But, blessed God! he brought us even worse news than we had heard before, saying, that the people at the castle had told him that their young master had ridden away the self-same day whereon he had rescued the maiden. That he had, indeed, returned after three days to his father's funeral, but had straightway ridden off again, and that for five weeks they had heard nothing further of him, and knew not whither he was gone, but supposed that some wicked ruffians had killed him. And now my grief was greater than ever it had been before; so patient and resigned to the will of God as my child had shown herself heretofore, and no martyr could have met her last hour stronger in God and Christ, so impatient and despairing was she now. She gave up all hope, and took it into her head that in these heavy times of war the young lord had been killed by robbers. Nought availed with her, not even prayer, for when I called upon God with her, on my knees, she straightway began so grievously to bewail that the Lord had cast her off, and that she was condemned to nought save misfortunes in this world; that it pierced through my heart like a knife, and my thoughts forsook me at her words. She lay also at night, and "like a crane or a swallow so did she chatter; she did mourn like a dove; her eyes did fail with looking upward," because no sleep came upon her eyelids. I called to her from my bed, "Dear child, wilt thou, then, never cease? sleep, I pray thee!" and she answered and said, "Do you sleep, dearest father; I cannot sleep until I sleep the sleep of death. Alas, my father; that I was not burned!" But how could I sleep when she could not? I indeed said, each morning, that I had slept a while, in order to content her; but it was not so; but, like David, "all the night made I my bed to swim; I watered my couch with my tears." Moreover I again fell into heavy unbelief, so that I neither could nor would pray. Nevertheless the Lord "did not deal with me after my sins, nor reward me according to mine iniquities. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great was his mercy toward" me, miserable sinner! For mark what happened on the very next Saturday! Behold, our old maid-servant came running in at the door, quite out of breath, saying that a horseman was coming over the Master's Mount, with a tall plume waving on his hat, and that she believed it was the young lord. When my child, who sat upon the bench combing her hair, heard this, she gave a shriek of joy, which would have moved a stone under the earth, and straightway ran out of the room to look over the paling. She presently came running in again, fell upon my neck, and cried without ceasing, "The young lord! the young lord!" whereupon she would have run out to meet him, but I forbade her, saying she had better first bind up her hair, which she then remembered, and laughing, weeping, and praying, all at once, she bound up her long hair. And now the young lord came galloping round the corner, attired in a green velvet doublet with red silk sleeves, and a grey hat with a heron's feather therein; _summa_, gaily dressed as beseems a wooer. And when we now ran out at the door, he called aloud to my child in the Latin, from afar off, "_Quomodo stat dulcissima virgo?_" Whereupon she gave answer, saying, "_Bene te aspecto._" He then sprang smiling off his horse, and gave it into the charge of my ploughman, who meanwhile had come up together with the maid; but he was affrighted when he saw my child so pale, and taking her hand spake in the vulgar tongue, "My God! what is it ails you, sweet maid? you look more pale than when about to go to the stake." Whereupon she answered, "I have been at the stake daily since you left us, good my lord, without coming into our house, or so much as sending us tidings of whither you were gone." This pleased him well, and he said, "Let us first of all go into the chamber, and you shall hear all." And when he had wiped the sweat from his brow, and sat down on the bench beside my child, he spake as follows:--That he had straightway promised her that he would clear her honour before the whole world, and the self-same day whereon he left us he made the worshipful court draw up an authentic record of all that had taken place, more especially the confession of the impudent constable, _item_, that of my ploughboy, Claus Neels; wherewith he rode throughout the same night, as he had promised, to Anclam, and next day to Stettin, to our gracious sovereign Duke Bogislaw: who marvelled greatly when he heard of the wickedness of his Sheriff, and of that which he had done to my child: moreover, he asked whether she were the pastor's daughter who once upon a time had found the signet-ring of his Princely Highness Philippus Julius of most Christian memory in the castle garden at Wolgast? and as he did not know thereof, the Duke asked, whether she knew Latin? And he, the young lord, answered yes, that she knew the Latin better than he did himself. His Princely Highness said, "Then, indeed, it must be the same," and straightway he put on his spectacles, and read the _acta_ himself. Hereupon, and after his Princely Highness had read the record of the worshipful court, shaking his head the while, the young lord humbly besought his Princely Highness to give him an _amende honorable_ for my child, _item, literas commendatitias_ for himself to our most gracious Emperor at Vienna, to beg for a renewal of my patent of nobility, seeing that he was determined to marry none other maiden than my daughter so long as he lived. When my child heard this, she gave a cry of joy, and fell back in a swound with her head against the wall. But the young lord caught her in his arms, and gave her three kisses (which I could not then deny him, seeing, as I did with joy, how matters went), and when she came to herself again, he asked her, whether she would not have him, seeing that she had given a cry at his words? Whereupon she said, "Whether I will not have you, my lord! Alas! I love you as dearly as my God and my Saviour! You first saved my life, and now you have snatched my heart from the stake, whereon, without you, it would have burned all the days of my life!" Hereupon I wept for joy, when he drew her into his lap, and she clasped his neck with her little hands. They thus sat and toyed a while, till the young lord again perceived me, and said, "What say you thereto; I trust it is also your will, reverend Abraham?" Now, dear reader, what could I say, save my hearty good-will? seeing that I wept for very joy, as did my child, and I answered, how should it not be my will, seeing that it was the will of God? But whether the worthy, good young lord had likewise considered that he would stain his noble name if he took to wife my child, who had been habit and repute a witch, and had been well-nigh bound to the stake? Hereupon he said, By no means; for that he had long since prevented this, and he proceeded to tell us how he had done it, namely, his Princely Highness had promised him to make ready all the _scripta_ which he required, within four days, when he hoped to be back from his father's burial. He therefore rode straightway back to Mellenthin, and after paying the last honour to my lord his father, he presently set forth on his way again, and found that his Princely Highness had kept his word meanwhile. With these _scripta_ he rode to Vienna, and albeit he met with many pains, troubles, and dangers by the way (which he would relate to us at some other time), he nevertheless reached the city safely. There he by chance met with a Jesuit with whom he had once upon a time had his _locamentum_ for a few days at Prague, while he was yet a _studiosus_, and this man, having heard his business, bade him be of good cheer, seeing that his Imperial Majesty stood sorely in need of money in these hard times of war, and that he, the Jesuit, would manage it all for him. This he really did, and his Imperial Majesty not only renewed my patent of nobility, but likewise confirmed the _amende honorable_ to my child granted by his Princely Highness the Duke, so that he might now maintain the honour of his betrothed bride against all the world, as also hereafter that of his wife. Hereupon he drew forth the _acta_ from his bosom, and put them into my hand, saying, "And now, reverend Abraham, you must also do me a pleasure, to wit, to-morrow morning, when I hope to go with my betrothed bride to the Lord's table, you must publish the banns between me and your daughter, and on the day after you must marry us. Do not say nay thereto, for my pastor, the reverend Philippus, says that this is no uncommon custom among the nobles in Pomerania, and I have already given notice of the wedding for Monday at mine own castle, whither we will then go, and where I purpose to bed my bride." I should have found much to say against this request, more especially that in honour of the Holy Trinity he should suffer himself to be called three times in church according to custom, and that he should delay a while the espousals; but when I perceived that my child would gladly have the marriage held right soon, for she sighed and grew red as scarlet, I had not the heart to refuse them, but promised all they asked. Whereupon I exhorted them both to prayer, and when I had laid my hands upon their heads, I thanked the Lord more deeply than I had ever yet thanked him, so that at last I could no longer speak for tears, seeing that they drowned my voice. Meanwhile the young lord his coach had driven up to the door, filled with chests and coffers: and he said, "Now, sweet maid, you shall see what I have brought you," and he bade them bring all the things into the room. Dear reader, what fine things were there, such as I had never seen in all my life! All that women can use was there, especially of clothes, to wit, bodices, plaited gowns, long robes, some of them bordered with fur, veils, aprons, _item_, the bridal shift with gold fringes, whereon the merry lord had laid some six or seven bunches of myrtle to make herself a wreath withal. _Item_, there was no end to the rings, neck-chains, eardrops, etc., the which I have in part forgotten. Neither did the young lord leave me without a gift, seeing he had brought me a new surplice (the enemy had robbed me of my old one), also doublets, hosen, and shoes, _summa_, whatsoever appertains to a man's attire; wherefore I secretly besought the Lord not to punish us again in his sore displeasure for such pomps and vanities. When my child beheld all these things she was grieved that she could bestow upon him nought save her heart alone, and the chain of the Swedish king, the which she hung round his neck, and begged him, weeping the while, to take it as a bridal gift. This he at length promised to do, and likewise to carry it with him into the grave: but that my child must first wear it at her wedding, as well as the blue silken gown, for that this and no other should be her bridal dress, and this he made her promise to do. And now a merry chance befell with the old maid, the which I will here note. For when the faithful old soul had heard what had taken place, she was beside herself for joy, danced and clapped her hands, and at last said to my child, "Now to be sure you will not weep when the young lord is to lie in your bed," whereat my child blushed scarlet for shame, and ran out of the room; and when the young lord would know what she meant therewith, she told him that he had already once slept in my child her bed when he came from Gutzkow with me, whereupon he bantered her all the evening after that she was come back again. Moreover, he promised the maid that as she had once made my child her bed for him, she should make it again, and that on the day after to-morrow she and the ploughman too should go with us to Mellenthin, so that masters and servants should all rejoice together after such great distress. And seeing that the dear young lord would stop the night under my roof, I made him lie in the small closet together with me (for I could not know what might happen). He soon slept like a top, but no sleep came into my eyes, for very joy, and I prayed the livelong blessed night, or thought over my sermon. Only near morning I dozed a little; and when I rose the young lord already sat in the next room with my child, who wore the black silken gown which he had brought her, and, strange to say, she looked fresher than even when the Swedish king came, so that I never in all my life saw her look fresher or fairer. _Item_, the young lord wore his black doublet, and picked out for her the best bits of myrtle for the wreath she was twisting. But when she saw me, she straightway laid the wreath beside her on the bench, folded her little hands, and said the morning prayer, as she was ever wont to do, which humility pleased the young lord right well, and he begged her that in future she would ever do the like with him, the which she promised. Soon after we went to the blessed church to confession, and all the folk stood gaping open-mouthed because the young lord led my child on his arm. But they wondered far more when, after the sermon, I first read to them in the vulgar tongue the _amende honorable_ to my child from his Princely Highness, together with the confirmation of the same by his Imperial Majesty, and after that my patent of nobility; and, lastly, began to publish the banns between my child and the young lord. Dear reader, there arose a murmur throughout the church like the buzzing of a swarm of bees. (N.B. These _scripta_ were burnt in the fire which broke out in the castle a year ago, as I shall hereafter relate, wherefore I cannot insert them here _in origne_.) Hereupon my dear children went together with much people to the Lord's table, and after church nearly all the folks crowded round them and wished them joy. _Item_, old Paasch came to our house again that afternoon, and once more besought my daughter's forgiveness because that he had unwittingly offended her; that he would gladly give her a marriage-gift, but that he now had nothing at all; howbeit that his wife should set one of her hens in the spring, and he would take the chickens to her at Mellenthin himself. This made us all to laugh, more especially the young lord, who at last said: "As thou wilt bring me a marriage-gift, thou must also be asked to the wedding, wherefore thou mayest come to-morrow with the rest." [Illustration: The Bridal Gifts] Whereupon my child said: "And your little Mary, my god-child, shall come too, and be my bridemaiden, if my lord allows it." Whereupon she began to tell the young lord all that that had befallen the child by the malice of Satan, and how they laid it to her charge until such time as the all-righteous God brought her innocence to light; and she begged that since her dear lord had commanded her to wear the same garments at her wedding which she had worn to salute the Swedish king, and afterwards to go to the stake, he would likewise suffer her to take for her bridemaiden her little god-child, as _indicium secundum_ of her sorrows. And when he had promised her this, she told old Paasch to send hither his child to her, that she might fit a new gown upon her which she had cut out for her a week ago, and which the maid would finish sewing this very day. This so went to the heart of the good old fellow that he began to weep aloud, and at last said, she should not do all this for nothing, for instead of the one hen his wife should set three for her in the spring. When he was gone, and the young lord did nought save talk with his betrothed bride, both in the vulgar and in the Latin tongue, I did better--namely, went up the mountain to pray, wherein, moreover, I followed my child's example, and clomb up upon the pile, there in loneliness to offer up my whole heart to the Lord as an offering of thanksgiving, seeing that with this sacrifice he is well pleased, as in Ps. li. 19, "The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt thou not despise." That night the young lord again lay in my room, but next morning, when the sun had scarce risen-- * * * * * Here end these interesting communications, which I do not intend to dilute with any additions of my own. My readers, more especially those of the fair sex, can picture to themselves at pleasure the future happiness of this excellent pair. All further historical traces of their existence, as well as that of the pastor, have disappeared, and nothing remains but a tablet fixed in the wall of the church at Mellenthin, on which the incomparable lord, and his yet more incomparable wife, are represented. On his faithful breast still hangs "the golden chain, with the effigy of the Swedish King." They both seem to have died within a short time of each other, and to have been buried in the same coffin. For in the vault under the church there is still a large double coffin, in which, according to tradition, lies a chain of gold of incalculable value. Some twenty years ago, the owner of Mellenthin, whose unequalled extravagance had reduced him to the verge of beggary, attempted to open the coffin in order to take out this precious relic, but he was not able. It appeared as if some powerful spell held it firmly together; and it has remained unopened down to the present time. May it remain so until the last awful day, and may the impious hand of avarice or curiosity never desecrate these holy ashes of holy beings! FINIS 
14015	----	Transcriber's note: In Quer. 11, point 3, 'confession of a With' corrected to 'confession of a Witch'. Note that all are Queries with the exception of Quest. 13. THE DISCOVERY OF WITCHES IN Answer to severall QUERIES, LATELY Delivered to the Judges of Assize for the County of NORFOLK And now published by MATTHEW HOPKINS, Witch-finder FOR the Benefit of the whole KINGDOME M. DC. XLVII. EXOD. 22.18. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Certaine _Queries_ answered, which have been and are likely to be objected against MATTHEW HOPKINS, in his way of finding out _Witches_. Querie 1. _That he must needs be the greatest Witch, Sorcerer, and Wizzard himselfe, else hee could not doe it._ Answ. If _Satan's_ kingdome be divided against it selfe, how shall it stand? Querie 2. _If he never went so farre as is before mentioned, yet for certaine he met with the Devill, and cheated him of his Booke, wherein were written all the Witches names in_ England, _and if he looks on any Witch, he can tell by her countenance what she is; so by this, his helpe is from the Devill._ Answ. If he had been too hard for the devill and got his book, it had been to his great commendation, and no disgrace at all: and for judgement in _Phisiognomie_, he hath no more then any man else whatsoever. Quer. 3. _From whence then proceeded this his skill? was it from his profound learning, or from much reading of learned Authors concerning that subject?_ Answ. From neither of both, but from experience, which though it be meanly esteemed of, yet the surest and safest way to judge by. Quer. 4. _I pray where was this experience gained? and why gained by him and not by others?_ Answ. The Discoverer never travelled far for it, but in _March_ 1644 he had some seven or eight of that horrible sect of Witches living in the Towne where he lived, a Towne in Essex called _Maningtree_, with divers other adjacent Witches of other towns, who every six weeks in the night (being alwayes on the Friday night) had their meeting close by his house and had their severall solemne sacrifices there offered to the _Devill_, one of which this discoverer heard speaking to her _Imps_ one night, and bid them goe to another Witch, who was thereupon apprehended, and searched, by women who had for many yeares knowne the Devills marks, and found to have three teats about her, which honest women have not: so upon command from the _Justice_ they were to keep her from sleep two or three nights, expecting in that time to see her _familiars_, which the fourth night she called in by their severall names, and told them what shapes, a quarter of an houre before they came in, there being ten of us in the roome, the first she called was 1. _Holt_, who came in like a white kitling. 2. _Jarmara_, who came in like a fat Spaniel without any legs at all, she said she kept him fat, for she clapt her hand on her belly and said he suckt good blood from her body. 3. _Vinegar Tom_, who was like a long-legg'd Greyhound, with an head like an Oxe, with a long taile and broad eyes, who when this discoverer spoke to, and bade him goe to the place provided for him and his Angels, immediately transformed himselfe into the shape of a child of foure yeeres old without a head, and gave halfe a dozen turnes about the house, and vanished at the doore. 4. _Sack and Sugar_, like a black Rabbet. 5. _Newes_, like a Polcat. All these vanished away in a little time. Immediately after this Witch confessed severall other Witches, from whom she had her _Imps_, and named to divers women where their marks were, the number of their _Marks_, and _Imps_, and _Imps_ names, as _Elemanzer_, _Pyewacket_, _Peckin the Crown_, _Grizzel_, _Greedigut_, _&c._ which no mortall could invent; and upon their searches the same Markes were found, the same number, and in the same place, and the like confessions from them of the same Imps, (though they knew not that we were told before) and so peached one another thereabouts that joyned together in the like damnable practise that in our Hundred in _Essex_, 29. were condemned at once, 4. brought 25. Miles to be hanged, where this Discoverer lives, for sending the Devill like a Beare to kill him in his garden, so by seeing diverse of the mens Papps, and trying wayes with hundreds of them, he gained this experience, and for ought he knowes any man else may find them as well as he and his company, if they had the same skill and experience. Quer. 5. _Many poore People are condemned for having a Pap, or Teat about them, whereas many People (especially antient People) are, and have been a long time troubled with naturall wretts on severall parts of their bodies and other naturall excressencies, as Hemerodes, Piles, Childbearing, &c. and these shall be judged only by one man alone and a woman, and so accused or acquitted._ Answ. The parties so judging can justifie their skill to any, and shew good reasons why such markes are not meerly naturall, neither that they can happen by any such naturall cause as is before expressed, and for further answer for their private judgements alone, it is most false and untrue, for never was any man tryed by search of his body, but commonly a dozen of the ablest men in the parish or else where, were present, and most commonly as many ancient skilfull matrons and midwives present when the women are tryed, which marks not only he, and his company attest to be very suspitious, but all beholders, the skilfulest of them, doe not approve of them, but likewise assent that such tokens cannot in their judgements proceed from any the above mentioned Causes. Quer. 6. _It is a thing impossible for any or woman to judge rightly on such marks, they are so neare to naturall excressencies and they that finde them, durst not presently give Oath they were drawne by evil spirits, till they have used unlawfull courses of torture to make them say any thing for ease and quiet, as who would not do? but I would know the reasons he speakes of, how, and whereby to discover the one from the other, and so be satisfied in that._ Answ. The reasons in breefe are three, which for the present he judgeth to differ from naturall marks which are: 1. He judgeth by the unusualnes of the place where he findeth the teats in or on their bodies being farre distant from any usuall place, from whence such naturall markes proceed, as if a witch plead the markes found are Emerods, if I finde them on the bottome of the back-bone, shall I assent with him, knowing they are not neere that veine, and so others by child-bearing, when it may be they are in the contrary part? 2. They are most commonly insensible, and feele neither pin, needle, aule, &c. thrust through them. 3. The often variations and mutations of these marks into severall formes, confirmes the matter; as if a Witch hear a month or two before that the _Witch-finder_ (as they call him) is comming they will, and have put out their Imps to others to suckle them, even to their owne young and tender children; these upon search are found to have dry skinnes and filmes only, and be close to the flesh, keepe her 24. houres with a diligent eye, that none of her Spirits come in any visible shape to suck her; the women have seen the next day after her Teats extended out to their former filling length, full of corruption ready to burst, and leaving her alone then one quarter of an houre, and let the women go up againe and shee will have them drawn by her Imps close againe: _Probatum est._ Now for answer to their tortures in its due place. Quer. 7. _How can it possibly be that the Devill bring a spirit, and wants no nutriment or sustentation, should desire to suck any blood? and indeed as he is a spirit he cannot draw any such excressences, having neither flesh nor bone, nor can be felt, &c._ Ans. He seekes not their bloud, as if he could not subsist without that nourishment, but he often repairs to them, and gets it, the more to aggravate the Witches damnation, and to put her in mind of her _Covenant_; and as he is a Spirit and Prince of the ayre, he appeares to them in any shape whatsoever, which shape is occasioned by him through joyning of condensed thickned aire together, and many times doth assume shapes of many creatures; but to create any thing he cannot do it, it is only proper to God: But in this case of drawing out of these Teats, he doth really enter into the body, reall, corporeall, substantiall creature, and forceth that Creature (he working in it) to his desired ends, and useth the organs of that body to speake withall to make his compact up with the Witches, be the creature Cat, Rat, Mouse, &c. Quer. 8. _When these Paps are fully discovered, yet that will not serve sufficiently to convict them, but they must be tortured and kept from sleep two or three nights, to distract them, and make them say any thing; which is a way to tame a wilde Colt, or Hawke, &c._ Ans. In the infancy of this discovery it was not only thought fitting, but enjoyned in _Essex_ and _Suffolke_ by the Magistrates, with this intention only, because they being kept awake would be more the active to cal their imps in open view the sooner to their helpe, which oftentimes have so happened; and never or seldome did any Witch ever complaine in the time of their keeping for want of rest, but after they had beat their heads together in the Goale; and after this use was not allowed of by the judges and other Magistrates, it was never since used, which is a yeare and a halfe since, neither were any kept from sleep by any order or direction since; but peradventure their own stubborne wills did not let them sleep, though tendered and offered to them. Quer. 9. _Beside that unreasonable watching, they were extraordinarily walked, till their feet were blistered, and so forced through that cruelty to confesse, &c._ Ans. It was in the same beginning of this discovery, and the meaning of walking of them at the highest extent of cruelty, was only they to walke about themselves the night they were watched, only to keepe them waking: and the reason was this, when they did lye or sit in a chaire, if they did offer to couch downe, then the watchers were only to desire them to sit up and walke about, for indeed when they be suffered so to couch, immediately comes their Familiars into the room and scareth the watchers, and heartneth on the Witch, though contrary to the true meaning of the same instructions, diverse have been by rusticall People, (they hearing them confess to be Witches) mis-used, spoiled, and abused, diverse whereof have suffered for the same, but could never be proved against this Discoverer to have a hand in it, or consent to it; and hath likewise been un-used by him and others, ever since the time they were kept from sleepe. Quer. 10. _But there hath been an abominable, inhumane, and unmercifull tryall of these poore creatures, by tying them, and heaving them into the water; a tryall not allowable by Law or conscience, and I would faine know the reasons for that._ Ans. It is not denyed but many were so served as had Papps, and floated, others that had none were tryed with them and sunk, but marke the reasons. For first the Divels policie is great, in perswading many to come of their own accord to be tryed, perswading them their marks are so close they shall not be found out, so as diverse have come 10. or 12. Miles to be searched of their own accord, and hanged for their labour, (as one _Meggs_ a Baker did, who lived within 7. Miles of _Norwich_, and was hanged at _Norwich_ Assizes for witchcraft) then when they find that the Devil tells them false they reflect on him, and he (as 40. have confessed) adviseth them to be sworne, and tels them they shall sinke and be cleared that way, then when they be tryed that way and floate, they see the Devill deceives them againe, and have so laid open his treacheries. 2. It was never brought in against any of them at their tryals as any evidence. 3. King _James_ in his _Demonology_ saith, it is a certaine rule, for (saith he) Witches deny their baptisme when they Covenant with the Devill, water being the sole element thereof, and therefore saith he, when they be heaved into the water, the water refuseth to receive them into her bosome, (they being such Miscreants to deny their baptisme) and suffers them to float, as the Froath on the Sea, which the water will not recieve, but casts it up and downe till it comes to the earthy element the shore, and there leaves it to consume. 4. Observe these generation of Witches, if they be at any time abused by being called Whore, Theefe, &c, by any where they live, they are the readiest to cry and wring their hands, and shed tears in abundance & run with full and right sorrowfull acclamations to some Justice of the Peace, and with many teares make their complaints: but now behold their stupidity; nature or the elements reflection from them, when they are accused for this horrible and damnable sin of Witchcraft, they never alter or change their countenances nor let one Teare fall. This by the way, swimming (by able Divines whom I reverence) is condemned for no way, and therefore of late hath, and for ever shall be left. Quer. 11. _Oh! but if this torturing Witch-catcher can by all or any of these meanes wring out a word or two of confession from any of these stupified, ignorant, unitelligible, poore silly creatures, (though none heare it but himselfe) he will adde and put her in feare to confesse telling her, else she shall be hanged; but if she doe, he will set her at liberty, and so put a word into her mouth, and make such a silly creature confesse she knowes not what._ Answ. He is of a better conscience, and for your better understanding of him, he doth thus uncase himselfe to all, add declares what confessions (though made by a Witch against her selfe) he allowes not of, and doth altogether account of no validity, or worthy of credence to be given to it, and ever did so account it, and ever likewise shall. 1. He utterly denyes that confession of a Witch to be of any validity, when it is drawn from her by any torture or violence whatsoever; although after watching, walking, or swimming, diverse have suffered, yet peradventure Magistrates with much care and diligence did solely and fully examine them after sleepe, and consideration sufficient. 2. He utterly denyes that confession of a Witch, which is drawn from her by flattery, viz. _if you will confess you shall go home, you shall not go to the Goale, nor be hanged, &c._ 3. He utterly denyes that confession of a Witch, when she confesseth any improbability, impossibility, as _flying in the ayre, riding on a broom, &c._ 4. He utterly denyes a confession of a Witch, when it is interrogated to her, and words put into her mouth, to be of any force or effect: as to say to a silly (yet Witch wicked enough) _you have foure Imps have you not_? She answers affirmatively, Yes: _did they not suck you_? Yes, saith she: _Are not their names so, and so_? Yes, saith shee; _Did not you send such an Impe to kill my child_? Yes saith she, this being all her confession after this manner, it is by him accompted nothing, and he earnestly doth desire that all Magistrates and Jurors would a little more then ever they did examine witnesses about the interrogated confessions. Quer. 12. _If all those confessions be denyed, I wonder what he will make confession, for sure it is, all these wayes have been used and took for good confessions, and many have suffered for them, and I know not what, he will then make confession._ Answ. Yes, in brief he will declare what confession of a Witch is of validity and force in his judgement, to hang a Witch: when a Witch is first found with teats, then sequestred from her house, which is onely to keep her old associates from her, and so by good counsell brought into a sad condition, by understanding of the horribleness of her sin, and the judgements threatned against her; and knowing the Devils malice and subtile circumventions, is brought to remorse and sorrow for complying with Satan so long, and disobeying Gods sacred Commands, doth then desire to unfold her mind with much bitterness, and then without any of the before-mentioned hard usages or questions put to her, doth of her owne accord declare what was the occasion of the Devils appearing to her, whether ignorance, pride, anger, malice, &c. was predominant over her, she doth then declare what speech they had, what likeness he was in, what voice be had, what familiars he sent her, what number of spirits, what names they had, what shape they were in, what imployment she set them about to severall persons in severall places, (unknowne to the hearers) all which mischiefes being proved to be done, at the same time she confessed to the same parties for the same cause, and all effected, is testimony enough again her for all her denyall. Quest. 13. _How can any possibly beleeve that the Devill and the Witch joyning together, should have such power, as the Witches confesse to kill such such a man, child, horse, cow, the like; if we beleeve they can doe what they will, then we derogate from Gods power, who for certaine limits the Devill and the Witch; and I cannot beleeve they have any power at all._ Answ. God suffers the Devill many times to doe much hurt, and the devill doth play many times the deluder and impostor with these Witches, in perswading them that they are the cause of such and such a murder wrought by him with their consents, when and indeed neither he nor they had any hand in it, as thus: We must needs argue, he is of a long standing, above 6000. yeers, then he must needs be the best Scholar in all knowledges of arts and tongues, & so have the best skill in _Physicke_, judgment in _Physiognomie_, and knowledge of what disease is reigning or predominant in this or that mans body, (and so for cattell too) by reason of his long experience. This subtile tempter knowing such a man lyable to some sudden disease, (as by experience I have found) as _Plurisie_, _Imposthume_, &c. he resorts to divers Witches; if they know the man, and seek to make a difference between the Witches and the party, it may be by telling them he hath threatned to have them very shortly searched, and so hanged for Witches, then they all consult with _Satan_ to save themselves, and _Satan_ stands ready prepared, with a _What will you have me doe for you, my deare and nearest children, covenanted and compacted with me in my hellish league, and sealed with your blood, my delicate firebrand-darlings_. [Sidenote: _The Divells speech to the Witches._] Oh thou (say they) that at the first didst promise to save us thy servants from any of out deadly enemies discovery, and didst promise to avenge and flay all those, we pleased, that did offend us; Murther that wretch suddenly who threatens the down-fall of your loyall subjects. He then promiseth to effect it. Next newes is heard the partie is dead, he comes to the witch, and gets a world of reverence, credence and respect for his power and activeness, when and indeed the disease kills the party, not the Witch, nor the Devill, (onely the Devill knew that such a disease was predominant) and the witch aggravates her damnation by her familiarity and consent to the Devill, and so comes likewise in compass of the Lawes. This is Satans usuall impostring and deluding, but not his constant course of proceeding, for he and the witch doe mischiefe too much. But I would that Magistrates and Jurats would a little examine witnesses when they heare witches confess such and such a murder, whether the party had not long time before, or at the time when the witch grew suspected, some disease or other predominant, which might cause that issue or effect of death. Quer. 14. _All that the witch-finder doth is to fleece the country of their money, and therefore rides and goes to townes to have imployment, and promiseth them faire promises, and it may be doth nothing for it, and possesseth many men that they have so many wizzards and so many witches in their towne, and so hartens them on to entertaine him._ Ans. You doe him a great deale of wrong in every of these particulars. For, first, 1. He never went to any towne or place, but they rode, writ, or sent often for him, and were (for ought he knew) glad of him. 2. He is a man that doth disclaime that ever he detected a witch, or said, Thou art a witch; only after her tryall by search, and their owne confessions, he as others may judge. 3. Lastly, judge how he fleeceth the Country, and inriches himselfe, by considering the vast summe he takes of every towne, he demands but 20.s. a town, & doth sometimes ride 20. miles for that, & hath no more for all his charges thither and back again (& it may be stayes a weeke there) and finde there 3. or 4. witches, or if it be but one, cheap enough, and this is the great summe he takes to maintaine his Companie with 3. horses. _Judicet ullus._ 
8503	----	AMONG MY BOOKS First Series by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL * * * * * To F.D.L. Love comes and goes with music in his feet, And tunes young pulses to his roundelays; Love brings thee this: will it persuade thee, Sweet, That he turns proser when he comes and stays? * * * * * CONTENTS. DRYDEN WITCHCRAFT SHAKESPEARE ONCE MORE NEW ENGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO LESSING ROUSSEAU AND THE SENTIMENTALISTS * * * * * DRYDEN.[1] Benvenuto Cellini tells us that when, in his boyhood, he saw a salamander come out of the fire, his grandfather forthwith gave him a sound beating, that he might the better remember so unique a prodigy. Though perhaps in this case the rod had another application than the autobiographer chooses to disclose, and was intended to fix in the pupil's mind a lesson of veracity rather than of science, the testimony to its mnemonic virtue remains. Nay, so universally was it once believed that the senses, and through them the faculties of observation and retention, were quickened by an irritation of the cuticle, that in France it was customary to whip the children annually at the boundaries of the parish, lest the true place of them might ever be lost through neglect of so inexpensive a mordant for the memory. From this practice the older school of critics would seem to have taken a hint for keeping fixed the limits of good taste, and what was somewhat vaguely called _classical_ English. To mark these limits in poetry, they set up as Hermae the images they had made to them of Dryden, of Pope, and later of Goldsmith. Here they solemnly castigated every new aspirant in verse, who in turn performed the same function for the next generation, thus helping to keep always sacred and immovable the _ne plus ultra_ alike of inspiration and of the vocabulary. Though no two natures were ever much more unlike than those of Dryden and Pope, and again of Pope and Goldsmith, and no two styles, except in such externals as could be easily caught and copied, yet it was the fashion, down even to the last generation, to advise young writers to form themselves, as it was called, on these excellent models. Wordsworth himself began in this school; and though there were glimpses, here and there, of a direct study of nature, yet most of the epithets in his earlier pieces were of the traditional kind so fatal to poetry during great part of the last century; and he indulged in that alphabetic personification which enlivens all such words as Hunger, Solitude, Freedom, by the easy magic of an initial capital. "Where the green apple shrivels on the spray, And pines the unripened pear in summer's kindliest ray, Even here Content has fixed her smiling reign With Independence, child of high Disdain. Exulting 'mid the winter of the skies, Shy as the jealous chamois, Freedom flies, And often grasps her sword, and often eyes." Here we have every characteristic of the artificial method, even to the triplet, which Swift hated so heartily as "a vicious way of rhyming wherewith Mr. Dryden abounded, imitated by all the bad versifiers of Charles the Second's reign." Wordsworth became, indeed, very early the leader of reform; but, like Wesley, he endeavored a reform within the Establishment. Purifying the substance, he retained the outward forms with a feeling rather than conviction that, in poetry, substance and form are but manifestations of the same inward life, the one fused into the other in the vivid heat of their common expression. Wordsworth could never wholly shake off the influence of the century into which he was born. He began by proposing a reform of the ritual, but it went no further than an attempt to get rid of the words of Latin original where the meaning was as well or better given in derivatives of the Saxon. He would have stricken out the "assemble" and left the "meet together." Like Wesley, he might be compelled by necessity to a breach of the canon; but, like him, he was never a willing schismatic, and his singing robes were the full and flowing canonicals of the church by law established. Inspiration makes short work with the usage of the best authors and ready-made elegances of diction; but where Wordsworth is not possessed by his demon, as Molière said of Corneille, he equals Thomson in verbiage, out-Miltons Milton in artifice of style, and Latinizes his diction beyond Dryden. The fact was, that he took up his early opinions on instinct, and insensibly modified them as he studied the masters of what may be called the Middle Period of English verse.[2] As a young man, he disparaged Virgil ("We talked a great deal of nonsense in those days," he said when taken to task for it later in life); at fifty-nine he translated three books of the Aeneid, in emulation of Dryden, though falling far short of him in everything but closeness, as he seems, after a few years, to have been convinced. Keats was the first resolute and wilful heretic, the true founder of the modern school, which admits no cis-Elizabethan authority save Milton, whose own English was formed upon those earlier models. Keats denounced the authors of that style which came in toward the close of the seventeenth century, and reigned absolute through the whole of the eighteenth, as "A schism, Nurtured by foppery and barbarism, ... who went about Holding a poor decrepit standard out, Marked with most flimsy mottoes, and in large The name of one Boileau!" But Keats had never then[3] studied the writers of whom he speaks so contemptuously, though he might have profited by so doing. Boileau would at least have taught him that _flimsy_ would have been an apter epithet for the _standard_ than for the mottoes upon it. Dryden was the author of that schism against which Keats so vehemently asserts the claim of the orthodox teaching it had displaced. He was far more just to Boileau, of whom Keats had probably never read a word. "If I would only cross the seas," he says, "I might find in France a living Horace and a Juvenal in the person of the admirable Boileau, whose numbers are excellent, whose expressions are noble, whose thoughts are just, whose language is pure, whose satire is pointed, and whose sense is just. What he borrows from the ancients he repays with usury of his own, in coin as good and almost as universally valuable."[4] Dryden has now been in his grave nearly a hundred and seventy years; in the second class of English poets perhaps no one stands, on the whole, so high as he; during his lifetime, in spite of jealousy, detraction, unpopular politics, and a suspicious change of faith, his pre-eminence was conceded; he was the earliest complete type of the purely literary man, in the modern sense; there is a singular unanimity in allowing him a certain claim to _greatness_ which would be denied to men as famous and more read,--to Pope or Swift, for example; he is supposed, in some way or other, to have reformed English poetry. It is now about half a century since the only uniform edition of his works was edited by Scott. No library is complete without him, no name is more familiar than his, and yet it may be suspected that few writers are more thoroughly buried in that great cemetery of the "British Poets." If contemporary reputation be often deceitful, posthumous fame may be generally trusted, for it is a verdict made up of the suffrages of the select men in succeeding generations. This verdict has been as good as unanimous in favor of Dryden. It is, perhaps, worth while to take a fresh observation of him, to consider him neither as warning nor example, but to endeavor to make out what it is that has given so lofty and firm a position to one of the most unequal, inconsistent, and faulty writers that ever lived. He is a curious example of what we often remark of the living, but rarely of the dead,--that they get credit for what they might be quite as much as for what they are,--and posterity has applied to him one of his own rules of criticism, judging him by the best rather than the average of his achievement, a thing posterity is seldom wont to do. On the losing side in politics, it is true of his polemical writings as of Burke's,--whom in many respects he resembles, and especially in that supreme quality of a reasoner, that his mind gathers not only heat, but clearness and expansion, by its own motion,--that they have won his battle for him in the judgment of after times. To us, looking back at him, he gradually becomes a singularly interesting and even picturesque figure. He is, in more senses than one, in language, in turn of thought, in style of mind, in the direction of his activity, the first of the moderns. He is the first literary man who was also a man of the world, as we understand the term. He succeeded Ben Jonson as the acknowledged dictator of wit and criticism, as Dr. Johnson, after nearly the same interval, succeeded him. All ages are, in some sense, ages of transition; but there are times when the transition is more marked, more rapid; and it is, perhaps, an ill fortune for a man of letters to arrive at maturity during such a period, still more to represent in himself the change that is going on, and to be an efficient cause in bringing it about. Unless, like Goethe, he is of a singularly uncontemporaneous nature, capable of being _tutta in se romita_, and of running parallel with his time rather than being sucked into its current, he will be thwarted in that harmonious development of native force which has so much to do with its steady and successful application. Dryden suffered, no doubt, in this way. Though in creed he seems to have drifted backward in an eddy of the general current; yet of the intellectual movement of the time, so far certainly as literature shared in it, he could say, with Aeneas, not only that he saw, but that himself was a great part of it. That movement was, on the whole, a downward one, from faith to scepticism, from enthusiasm to cynicism, from the imagination to the understanding. It was in a direction altogether away from those springs of imagination and faith at which they of the last age had slaked the thirst or renewed the vigor of their souls. Dryden himself recognized that indefinable and gregarious influence which we call nowadays the Spirit of the Age, when he said that "every Age has a kind of universal Genius."[5] He had also a just notion of that in which he lived; for he remarks, incidentally, that "all knowing ages are naturally sceptic and not at all bigoted, which, if I am not much deceived, is the proper character of our own."[6] It may be conceived that he was even painfully half-aware of having fallen upon a time incapable, not merely of a great poet, but perhaps of any poet at all; for nothing is so sensitive to the chill of a sceptical atmosphere as that enthusiasm which, if it be not genius, is at least the beautiful illusion that saves it from the baffling quibbles of self-consciousness. Thrice unhappy he who, horn to see things as they might be, is schooled by circumstances to see them as people say they are,--to read God in a prose translation. Such was Dryden's lot, and such, for a good part of his days, it was by his own choice. He who was of a stature to snatch the torch of life that flashes from lifted hand to hand along the generations, over the heads of inferior men, chose rather to be a link-boy to the stews. As a writer for the stage, he deliberately adopted and repeatedly reaffirmed the maxim that "He who lives to please, must please to live." Without earnest convictions, no great or sound literature is conceivable. But if Dryden mostly wanted that inspiration which comes of belief in and devotion to something nobler and more abiding than the present moment and its petulant need, he had, at least, the next best thing to that,--a thorough faith in himself. He was, moreover, a man of singularly open soul, and of a temper self-confident enough to be candid even with himself. His mind was growing to the last, his judgment widening and deepening, his artistic sense refining itself more and more. He confessed his errors, and was not ashamed to retrace his steps in search of that better knowledge which the omniscience of superficial study had disparaged. Surely an intellect that is still pliable at seventy is a phenomenon as interesting as it is rare. But at whatever period of his life we look at Dryden, and whatever, for the moment, may have been his poetic creed, there was something in the nature of the man that would not be wholly subdued to what it worked in. There are continual glimpses of something in him greater than he, hints of possibilities finer than anything he has done. You feel that the whole of him was better than any random specimens, though of his best, seem to prove. _Incessu patet_, he has by times the large stride of the elder race, though it sinks too often into the slouch of a man who has seen better days. His grand air may, in part, spring from a habit of easy superiority to his competitors; but must also, in part, be ascribed to an innate dignity of character. That this pre-eminence should have been so generally admitted, during his life, can only be explained by a bottom of good sense, kindliness, and sound judgment, whose solid worth could afford that many a flurry of vanity, petulance, and even error should flit across the surface and be forgotten. Whatever else Dryden may have been, the last and abiding impression of him is, that he was thoroughly manly; and while it may be disputed whether he was a great poet, it may be said of him, as Wordsworth said of Burke, that "he was by far the greatest man of his age, not only abounding in knowledge himself, but feeding, in various directions, his most able contemporaries."[7] Dryden was born in 1631. He was accordingly six years old when Jonson died, was nearly a quarter of a century younger than Milton, and may have personally known Bishop Hall, the first English satirist, who was living till 1656. On the other side, he was older than Swift by thirty-six, than Addison by forty-one, and than Pope by fifty-seven years. Dennis says that "Dryden, for the last ten years of his life, was much acquainted with Addison, and drank with him more than he ever used to do, probably so far as to hasten his end," being commonly "an extreme sober man." Pope tell us that, in his twelfth year, he "saw Dryden," perhaps at Will's, perhaps in the street, as Scott did Burns. Dryden himself visited Milton now and then, and was intimate with Davenant, who could tell him of Fletcher and Jonson from personal recollection. Thus he stands between the age before and that which followed him, giving a hand to each. His father was a country clergyman, of Puritan leanings, a younger son of an ancient county family. The Puritanism is thought to have come in with the poet's great-grandfather, who made in his will the somewhat singular statement that he was "assured by the Holy Ghost that he was elect of God." It would appear from this that Dryden's self-confidence was an inheritance. The solid quality of his mind showed itself early. He himself tells us that he had read Polybius "in English, with the pleasure of a boy, before he was ten years of age, and yet even then _had some dark notions of the prudence with which he conducted his design_."[8] The concluding words are very characteristic, even if Dryden, as men commonly do, interpreted his boyish turn of mind by later self-knowledge. We thus get a glimpse of him browsing--for, like Johnson, Burke, and the full as distinguished from the learned men, he was always a random reader[9]--in his father's library, and painfully culling here and there a spray of his own proper nutriment from among the stubs and thorns of Puritan divinity. After such schooling as could be had in the country, he was sent up to Westminster School, then under the headship of the celebrated Dr. Busby. Here he made his first essays in verse, translating, among other school exercises of the same kind, the third satire of Persius. In 1650 he was entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, and remained there for seven years. The only record of his college life is a discipline imposed, in 1652, for "disobedience to the Vice-Master, and contumacy in taking his punishment, inflicted by him." Whether this punishment was corporeal, as Johnson insinuates in the similar case of Milton, we are ignorant. He certainly retained no very fond recollection of his Alma Mater, for in his "Prologue to the University of Oxford," he says:-- "Oxford to him a dearer name shall be Than his own mother university; Thebes did his green, unknowing youth engage, He chooses Athens in his riper age." By the death of his father, in 1654, he came into possession of a small estate of sixty pounds a year, from which, however, a third must be deducted, for his mother's dower, till 1676. After leaving Cambridge, he became secretary to his near relative, Sir Gilbert Pickering, at that time Cromwell's chamberlain, and a member of his Upper House. In 1670 he succeeded Davenant as Poet Laureate,[10] and Howell as Historiographer, with a yearly salary of two hundred pounds. This place he lost at the Revolution, and had the mortification to see his old enemy and butt, Shadwell, promoted to it, as the best poet the Whig party could muster. If William was obliged to read the verses of his official minstrel, Dryden was more than avenged. From 1688 to his death, twelve years later, he earned his bread manfully by his pen, without any mean complaining, and with no allusion to his fallen fortunes that is not dignified and touching. These latter years, during which he was his own man again, were probably the happiest of his life. In 1664 or 1665 he married Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the Earl of Berkshire. About a hundred pounds a year were thus added to his income. The marriage is said not to have been a happy one, and perhaps it was not, for his wife was apparently a weak-minded woman; but the inference from the internal evidence of Dryden's plays, as of Shakespeare's, is very untrustworthy, ridicule of marriage having always been a common stock in trade of the comic writers. The earliest of his verses that have come down to us were written upon the death of Lord Hastings, and are as bad as they can be,--a kind of parody on the worst of Donne. They have every fault of his manner, without a hint of the subtile and often profound thought that more than redeems it. As the Doctor himself would have said, here is Donne outdone. The young nobleman died of the small-pox, and Dryden exclaims pathetically,-- "Was there no milder way than the small-pox, The very filthiness of Pandora's box?" He compares the pustules to "rosebuds stuck i' the lily skin about," and says that "Each little pimple had a tear in it To wail the fault its rising did commit." But he has not done his worst yet, by a great deal. What follows is even finer:-- "No comet need foretell his change drew on, Whose corpse might seem a constellation. O, had he died of old, how great a strife Had been who from his death should draw their life! Who should, by one rich draught, become whate'er Seneca, Cato, Numa, Caesar, were, Learned, virtuous, pious, great, and have by this An universal metempsychosis! Must all these aged sires in one funeral Expire? all die in one so young, so small?" It is said that one of Allston's early pictures was brought to him, after he had long forgotten it, and his opinion asked as to the wisdom of the young artist's persevering in the career he had chosen. Allston advised his quitting it forthwith as hopeless. Could the same experiment have been tried with these verses upon Dryden, can any one doubt that his counsel would have been the same? It should be remembered, however, that he was barely turned eighteen when they were written, and the tendency of his style is noticeable in so early an abandonment of the participial _ed_ in _learned_ and _aged_. In the next year he appears again in some commendatory verses prefixed to the sacred epigrams of his friend, John Hoddesdon. In these he speaks of the author as a "Young eaglet, who, thy nest thus soon forsook, So lofty and divine a course hast took As all admire, before the down begin To peep, as yet, upon thy smoother chin." Here is almost every fault which Dryden's later nicety would have condemned. But perhaps there is no schooling so good for an author as his own youthful indiscretions. After this effort Dryden seems to have lain fallow for ten years, and then he at length reappears in thirty-seven "heroic stanzas" on the death of Cromwell. The versification is smoother, but the conceits are there again, though in a milder form. The verse is modelled after "Gondibert." A single image from nature (he was almost always happy in these) gives some hint of the maturer Dryden:-- "And wars, like mists that rise against the sun, Made him but greater seem, not greater grow." Two other verses, "And the isle, when her protecting genius went, Upon his obsequies loud sighs conferred," are interesting, because they show that he had been studying the early poems of Milton. He has contrived to bury under a rubbish of verbiage one of the most purely imaginative passages ever written by the great Puritan poet. "From haunted spring and dale, Edged with poplar pale, The parting genius is with sighing sent." This is the more curious because, twenty-four years afterwards, he says, in defending rhyme: "Whatever causes he [Milton] alleges for the abolishment of rhyme, his own particular reason is plainly this, that rhyme was not his talent; he had neither the ease of doing it nor the graces of it: which is manifest in his _Juvenilia_, ... where his rhyme is always constrained and forced, and comes hardly from him, at an age when the soul is most pliant, and the passion of love makes almost every man a rhymer, though not a poet."[11] It was this, no doubt, that heartened Dr. Johnson to say of "Lycidas" that "the diction was harsh, the rhymes uncertain, and the numbers unpleasing." It is Dryden's excuse that his characteristic excellence is to argue persuasively and powerfully, whether in verse or prose, and that he was amply endowed with the most needful quality of an advocate,--to be always strongly and wholly of his present way of thinking, whatever it might be. Next we have, in 1660, "Astraea Redux" on the "happy restoration" of Charles II. In this also we can forebode little of the full-grown Dryden but his defects. We see his tendency to exaggeration, and to confound physical with metaphysical, as where he says of the ships that brought home the royal brothers, that "The joyful London meets The princely York, himself alone a freight, The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's weight" and speaks of the "Repeated prayer Which stormed the skies and ravished Charles from thence." There is also a certain everydayness, not to say vulgarity, of phrase, which Dryden never wholly refined away, and which continually tempts us to sum up at once against him as the greatest poet that ever was or could be made wholly out of prose. "Heaven would no bargain for its blessings drive" is an example. On the other hand, there are a few verses almost worthy of his best days, as these:-- "Some lazy ages lost in sleep and ease, No action leave to busy chronicles; Such whose _supine felicity_ but makes In story chasms, in epochas mistakes, O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down, Till with his silent sickle they are mown," These are all the more noteworthy, that Dryden, unless in argument, is seldom equal for six lines together. In the poem to Lord Clarendon (1662) there are four verses that have something of the "energy divine" for which Pope praised his master. "Let envy, then, those crimes within you see From which the happy never must be free; Envy that does with misery reside, The joy and the revenge of ruined pride." In his "Aurengzebe" (1675) there is a passage, of which, as it is a good example of Dryden, I shall quote the whole, though my purpose aims mainly at the latter verses:-- "When I consider life, 't is all a cheat; Yet, fooled with Hope, men favor the deceit, Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay; To-morrow's falser than the former day, Lies worse, and, while it says we shall be blest With some new joys, cuts off what we possest. Strange cozenage! none would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain, And from the dregs of life think to receive What the first sprightly running could not give. I'm tired of waiting for this chymic gold Which fools us young and beggars us when old." The "first sprightly running" of Dryden's vintage was, it must be confessed, a little muddy, if not beery; but if his own soil did not produce grapes of the choicest flavor, he knew where they were to be had; and his product, like sound wine, grew better the longer it stood upon the lees. He tells us, evidently thinking of himself, that in a poet, "from fifty to threescore, the balance generally holds even in our colder climates, for he loses not much in fancy, and judgment, which is the effect of observation, still increases. His succeeding years afford him little more than the stubble of his own harvest, yet, if his constitution be healthful, his mind may still retain a decent vigor, and the gleanings of that of Ephraim, in comparison with others, will surpass the vintage of Abiezer."[12] Since Chaucer, none of our poets has had a constitution more healthful, and it was his old age that yielded the best of him. In him the understanding was, perhaps, in overplus for his entire good fortune as a poet, and that is a faculty among the earliest to mature. We have seen him, at only ten years, divining the power of reason in Polybius.[13] The same turn of mind led him later to imitate the French school of tragedy, and to admire in Ben Jonson the most correct of English poets. It was his imagination that needed quickening, and it is very curious to trace through his different prefaces the gradual opening of his eyes to the causes of the solitary pre-eminence of Shakespeare. At first he is sensible of an attraction towards him which he cannot explain, and for which he apologizes, as if it were wrong. But he feels himself drawn more and more strongly, till at last he ceases to resist altogether, and is forced to acknowledge that there is something in this one man that is not and never was anywhere else, something not to be reasoned about, ineffable, divine; if contrary to the rules, so much the worse for _them_. It may be conjectured that Dryden's Puritan associations may have stood in the way of his more properly poetic culture, and that his early knowledge of Shakespeare was slight. He tells us that Davenant, whom he could not have known before he himself was twenty-seven, first taught him to admire the great poet. But even after his imagination had become conscious of its prerogative, and his expression had been ennobled by frequenting this higher society, we find him continually dropping back into that _sermo pedestris_ which seems, on the whole, to have been his more natural element. We always feel his epoch in him, that he was the lock which let our language down from its point of highest poetry to its level of easiest and most gently flowing prose. His enthusiasm needs the contagion of other minds to arouse it; but his strong sense, his command of the happy word, his wit, which is distinguished by a certain breadth and, as it were, power of generalization, as Pope's by keenness of edge and point, were his, whether he would or no. Accordingly, his poetry is often best and his verse more flowing where (as in parts of his version of the twenty-ninth ode of the third book of Horace) he is amplifying the suggestions of another mind.[14] Viewed from one side, he justifies Milton's remark of him, that "he was a good rhymist, but no poet." To look at all sides, and to distrust the verdict of a single mood, is, no doubt, the duty of a critic. But how if a certain side be so often presented as to thrust forward in the memory and disturb it in the effort to recall that total impression (for the office of a critic is not, though often so misunderstood, to say _guilty_ or _not guilty_ of some particular fact) which is the only safe ground of judgment? It is the weight of the whole man, not of one or the other limb of him, that we want. _Expende Hannibalem_. Very good, but not in a scale capacious only of a single quality at a time, for it is their union, and not their addition, that assures the value of each separately. It was not this or that which gave him his weight in council, his swiftness of decision in battle that outran the forethought of other men,--it was Hannibal. But this prosaic element in Dryden will force itself upon me. As I read him, I cannot help thinking of an ostrich, to be classed with flying things, and capable, what with leap and flap together, of leaving the earth for a longer or shorter space, but loving the open plain, where wing and foot help each other to something that is both flight and run at once. What with his haste and a certain dash, which, according to our mood, we may call florid or splendid, he seems to stand among poets where Rubens does among painters,--greater, perhaps, as a colorist than an artist, yet great here also, if we compare him with any but the first. We have arrived at Dryden's thirty-second year, and thus far have found little in him to warrant an augury that he was ever to be one of the _great_ names in English literature, the most perfect type, that is, of his class, and that class a high one, though not the highest. If Joseph de Maistre's axiom, _Qui n'a pas vaincu à trente ans, ne vaincra jamais_, were true, there would be little hope of him, for he has won no battle yet. But there is something solid and doughty in the man, that can rise from defeat, the stuff of which victories are made in due time, when we are able to choose our position better, and the sun is at our back. Hitherto his performances have been mainly of the _obbligato_ sort, at which few men of original force are good, least of all Dryden, who had always something of stiffness in his strength. Waller had praised the living Cromwell in perhaps the manliest verses he ever wrote,--not _very_ manly, to be sure, but really elegant, and, on the whole, better than those in which Dryden squeezed out melodious tears. Waller, who had also made himself conspicuous as a volunteer Antony to the country squire turned Caesar, ("With ermine clad and purple, let him hold A royal sceptre made of Spanish gold,") was more servile than Dryden in hailing the return of _ex officio_ Majesty. He bewails to Charles, in snuffling heroics, "Our sorrow and our crime To have accepted life so long a time, Without you here." A weak man, put to the test by rough and angry times, as Waller was, may be pitied, but meanness is nothing but contemptible under any circumstances. If it be true that "every conqueror creates a Muse," Cromwell was unfortunate. Even Milton's sonnet, though dignified, is reserved if not distrustful. Marvell's "Horatian Ode," the most truly classic in our language, is worthy of its theme. The same poet's Elegy, in parts noble, and everywhere humanly tender, is worth more than all Carlyle's biography as a witness to the gentler qualities of the hero, and of the deep affection that stalwart nature could inspire in hearts of truly masculine temper. As it is little known, a few verses of it may be quoted to show the difference between grief that thinks of its object and grief that thinks of its rhymes:-- "Valor, religion, friendship, prudence died At once with him, and all that's good beside, And we, death's refuse, nature's dregs, confined To loathsome life, alas! are left behind. Where we (so once we used) shall now no more, To fetch day, press about his chamber-door, No more shall hear that powerful language charm, Whose force oft spared the labor of his arm, No more shall follow where he spent the days In war or counsel, or in prayer and praise. * * * * * I saw him dead; a leaden slumber lies, And mortal sleep, over those wakeful eyes; Those gentle rays under the lids were fled, Which through his looks that piercing sweetness shed; That port, which so majestic was and strong, Loose and deprived of vigor stretched along, All withered, all discolored, pale, and wan, How much another thing! no more That Man! O human glory! vain! O death! O wings! O worthless world! O transitory things! Yet dwelt that greatness in his shape decayed That still, though dead, greater than Death he laid, And, in his altered face, you something feign That threatens Death he yet will live again." Such verses might not satisfy Lindley Murray, but they are of that higher mood which satisfies the heart. These couplets, too, have an energy worthy of Milton's friend:-- "When up the armëd mountains of Dunbar He marched, and through deep Severn, ending war." "Thee, many ages hence, in martial verse Shall the English soldier, ere he charge, rehearse." On the whole, one is glad that Dryden's panegyric on the Protector was so poor. It was purely official verse-making. Had there been any feeling in it, there had been baseness in his address to Charles. As it is, we may fairly assume that he was so far sincere in both cases as to be thankful for a chance to exercise himself in rhyme, without much caring whether upon a funeral or a restoration. He might naturally enough expect that poetry would have a better chance under Charles than under Cromwell, or any successor with Commonwealth principles. Cromwell had more serious matters to think about than verses, while Charles might at least care as much about them as it was in his base good-nature to care about anything but loose women and spaniels. Dryden's sound sense, afterwards so conspicuous, shows itself even in these pieces, when we can get at it through the tangled thicket of tropical phrase. But the authentic and unmistakable Dryden first manifests himself in some verses addressed to his friend Dr. Charlton in 1663. We have first his common sense which has almost the point of wit, yet with a tang of prose:-- "The longest tyranny that ever swayed Was that wherein our ancestors betrayed Their freeborn reason to the Stagyrite, And made his torch their universal light. _So truth, while only one supplied the state, Grew scarce and dear and yet sophisticate. Still it was bought, like emp'ric wares or charms, Hard words sealed up with Aristotle's arms_." Then we have his graceful sweetness of fancy, where he speaks of the inhabitants of the New World:-- "Guiltless men who danced away their time, Fresh as their groves and happy as their clime." And, finally, there is a hint of imagination where "mighty visions of the Danish race" watch round Charles sheltered in Stonehenge after the battle of Worcester. These passages might have been written by the Dryden whom we learn to know fifteen years later. They have the advantage that he wrote them to please himself. His contemporary, Dr. Heylin, said of French cooks, that "their trade was not to feed the belly, but the palate." Dryden was a great while in learning this secret, as available in good writing as in cookery. He strove after it, but his thoroughly English nature, to the last, would too easily content itself with serving up the honest beef of his thought, without regard to daintiness of flavor in the dressing of it.[15] Of the best English poetry, it might be said that it is understanding aërated by imagination. In Dryden the solid part too often refused to mix kindly with the leaven, either remaining lumpish or rising to a hasty puffiness. Grace and lightness were with him much more a laborious achievement than a natural gift, and it is all the more remarkable that he should so often have attained to what seems such an easy perfection in both. Always a hasty writer,[16] he was long in forming his style, and to the last was apt to snatch the readiest word rather than wait for the fittest. He was not wholly and unconsciously poet, but a thinker who sometimes lost himself on enchanted ground and was transfigured by its touch. This preponderance in him of the reasoning over the intuitive faculties, the one always there, the other flashing in when you least expect it, accounts for that inequality and even incongruousness in his writing which makes one revise his judgment at every tenth page. In his prose you come upon passages that persuade you he is a poet, in spite of his verses so often turning state's evidence against him as to convince you he is none. He is a prose-writer, with a kind of Aeolian attachment. For example, take this bit of prose from the dedication of his version of Virgil's Pastorals, 1694: "He found the strength of his genius betimes, and was even in his youth preluding to his Georgicks and his Aeneis. He could not forbear to try his wings, though his pinions were not hardened to maintain a long, laborious flight; yet sometimes they bore him to a pitch as lofty as ever he was able to reach afterwards. But when he was admonished by his subject to descend, he came down gently circling in the air and singing to the ground, like a lark melodious in her mounting and continuing her song till she alights, still preparing for a higher flight at her next sally, and tuning her voice to better music." This is charming, and yet even this wants the ethereal tincture that pervades the style of Jeremy Taylor, making it, as Burke said of Sheridan's eloquence, "neither prose nor poetry, but something better than either." Let us compare Taylor's treatment of the same image: "For so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass and soaring upwards, singing as he rises, and hopes to get to heaven and climb above the clouds; but the poor bird was beaten back by the loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and inconstant, descending more at every breath of the tempest than it could recover by the libration and frequent weighing of his wings, till the little creature was forced to sit down and pant, and stay till the storm was over, and then it made a prosperous flight, and did rise and sing as if it had learned music and motion of an angel as he passed sometimes through the air about his ministries here below." Taylor's fault is that his sentences too often smell of the library, but what an open air is here! How unpremeditated it all seems! How carelessly he knots each new thought, as it comes, to the one before it with an _and_, like a girl making lace! And what a slidingly musical use he makes of the sibilants with which our language is unjustly taxed by those who can only make them hiss, not sing! There are twelve of them in the first twenty words, fifteen of which are monsyllables. We notice the structure of Dryden's periods, but this grows up as we read. It gushes, like the song of the bird itself,-- "In profuse strains of unpremeditated art." Let us now take a specimen of Dryden's bad prose from one of his poems. I open the "Annus Mirabilis" at random, and hit upon this:-- 'Our little fleet was now engaged so far, That, like the swordfish in the whale, they fought. The combat only seemed a civil war, Till through their bowels we our passage wrought.' Is this Dryden, or Sternhold, or Shadwell, those Toms who made him say that "dulness was fatal to the name of Tom"? The natural history of Goldsmith in the verse of Pye! His thoughts did not "voluntary move harmonious numbers." He had his choice between prose and verse, and seems to be poetical on second thought. I do not speak without book. He was more than half conscious of it himself. In the same letter to Mrs. Steward, just cited, he says, "I am still drudging on, always a poet and never a good one"; and this from no mock-modesty, for he is always handsomely frank in telling us whatever of his own doing pleased him. This was written in the last year of his life, and at about the same time he says elsewhere: "What judgment I had increases rather than diminishes, and thoughts, such as they are, come crowding in so fast upon me that my only difficulty is to choose or to reject, to run them into verse or to give them the other harmony of prose; I have so long studied and practised both, that they are grown into a habit and become familiar to me."[17] I think that a man who was primarily a poet would hardly have felt this equanimity of choice. I find a confirmation of this feeling about Dryden in his early literary loves. His taste was not an instinct, but the slow result of reflection and of the manfulness with which he always acknowledged to himself his own mistakes. In this latter respect few men deal so magnanimously with themselves as he, and accordingly few have been so happily inconsistent. _Ancora imparo_ might have served him for a motto as well as Michael Angelo. His prefaces are a complete log of his life, and the habit of writing them was a useful one to him, for it forced him to think with a pen in his hand, which, according to Goethe, "if it do no other good, keeps the mind from staggering about." In these prefaces we see his taste gradually rising from Du Bartas to Spenser, from Cowley to Milton, from Corneille to Shakespeare. "I remember when I was a boy," he says in his dedication of the "Spanish Friar," 1681, "I thought inimitable Spenser a mean poet in comparison of Sylvester's _Du Bartas_, and was rapt into an ecstasy when I read these lines:-- 'Now when the winter's keener breath began To crystallize the Baltic ocean, To glaze the lakes, to bridle up the floods, And periwig with snow[18] the baldpate woods.' I am much deceived if this be not abominable fustian." Swift, in his "Tale of a Tub," has a ludicrous passage in this style: "Look on this globe of earth, you will find it to be a very complete and fashionable dress. What is that which some call _land_, but a fine coat faced with green? or the _sea_, but a waistcoat of water-tabby? Proceed to the particular works of creation, you will find how curious journeyman Nature has been to trim up the vegetable _beaux_; observe how _sparkish a periwig adorns the head of a beech_, and what a fine doublet of white satin is worn by the birch." The fault is not in any inaptness of the images, nor in the mere vulgarity of the things themselves, but in that of the associations they awaken. The "prithee, undo this button" of Lear, coming where it does and expressing what it does, is one of those touches of the pathetically sublime, of which only Shakespeare ever knew the secret. Herrick, too, has a charming poem on "Julia's petticoat," the charm being that he lifts the familiar and the low to the region of sentiment. In the passage from Sylvester, it is precisely the reverse, and the wig takes as much from the sentiment as it adds to a Lord Chancellor. So Pope's proverbial verse, "True wit is Nature to advantage drest," unpleasantly suggests Nature under the hands of a lady's-maid.[19] We have no word in English that will exactly define this want of propriety in diction. _Vulgar_ is too strong, and _commonplace_ too weak. Perhaps _bourgeois_ comes as near as any. It is to be noticed that Dryden does not unequivocally condemn the passage he quotes, but qualifies it with an "if I am not much mistaken." Indeed, though his judgment in substantials, like that of Johnson, is always worth having, his taste, the negative half of genius, never altogether refined itself from a colloquial familiarity, which is one of the charms of his prose, and gives that air of easy strength in which his satire is unmatched. In his "Royal Martyr" (1669), the tyrant Maximin says to the gods:-- "Keep you your rain and sunshine in the skies, And I'll keep back my flame and sacrifice; _Your trade of Heaven shall soon be at a stand, And all your goods lie dead upon your hand,_"-- a passage which has as many faults as only Dryden was capable of committing, even to a false idiom forced by the last rhyme. The same tyrant in dying exclaims:-- "And after thee I'll go, Revenging still, and following e'en to th' other world my blow, And, _shoving back this earth on which I sit, I'll mount and scatter all the gods I hit._" In the "Conquest of Grenada" (1670), we have:-- "This little loss in our vast body shews So small, that half _have never heard the news; Fame's out of breath e'er she can fly so far To tell 'em all that you have e'er made war_."[20] And in the same play, "That busy thing, _The soul, is packing up_, and just on wing Like parting swallows when they seek the spring," where the last sweet verse curiously illustrates that inequality (poetry on a prose background) which so often puzzles us in Dryden. Infinitely worse is the speech of Almanzor to his mother's ghost:-- "I'll rush into the covert of the night And pull thee backward by the shroud to light, Or else I'll squeeze thee like a bladder there, And make thee groan thyself away to air." What wonder that Dryden should have been substituted for Davenant as the butt of the "Rehearsal," and that the parody should have had such a run? And yet it was Dryden who, in speaking of Persius, hit upon the happy phrase of "boisterous metaphors";[21] it was Dryden who said of Cowley, whom he elsewhere calls "the darling of my youth,"[22] that he was "sunk in reputation because he could never forgive any conceit which came in his way, but swept, like a drag-net, great and small."[23] But the passages I have thus far cited as specimens of our poet's coarseness (for poet he surely was _intus_, though not always _in cute_) were written before he was forty, and he had an odd notion, suitable to his healthy complexion, that poets on the whole improve after that date. Man at forty, he says, "seems to be fully in his summer tropic, ... and I believe that it will hold in all great poets that, though they wrote before with a certain heat of genius which inspired them, yet that heat was not perfectly digested."[24] But artificial heat is never to be digested at all, as is plain in Dryden's case. He was a man who warmed slowly, and, in his hurry to supply the market, forced his mind. The result was the same after forty as before. In "Oedipus" (1679) we find, "Not one bolt Shall err from Thebes, but more be called for, more, _New-moulded thunder of a larger size!_" This play was written in conjunction with Lee, of whom Dryden relates[25] that, when some one said to him, "It is easy enough to write like a madman," he replied, "No, it is hard to write like a madman, but easy enough to write like a fool,"--perhaps the most compendious lecture on poetry ever delivered. The splendid bit of eloquence, which has so much the sheet-iron clang of impeachment thunder (I hope that Dryden is not in the Library of Congress!) is perhaps Lee's. The following passage almost certainly is his:-- "Sure 'tis the end of all things! Fate has torn The lock of Time off, and his head is now The ghastly ball of round Eternity!" But the next, in which the soul is likened to the pocket of an indignant housemaid charged with theft, is wholly in Dryden's manner:-- "No; I dare challenge heaven to turn me outward, And shake my soul quite empty in your sight." In the same style, he makes his Don Sebastian (1690) say that he is as much astonished as "drowsy mortals" at the last trump, "When, called in haste, _they fumble for their limbs_," and propose to take upon himself the whole of a crime shared with another by asking Heaven _to charge the bill_ on him. And in "King Arthur," written ten years after the Preface from which I have quoted his confession about Dubartas, we have a passage precisely of the kind he condemned:-- "Ah for the many souls as but this morn Were clothed with flesh and warmed with vital blood, But naked now, or _shirted_ but with air." Dryden too often violated his own admirable rule, that "an author is not to write all he can, but only all he ought."[26] In his worst images, however, there is often a vividness that half excuses them. But it is a grotesque vividness, as from the flare of a bonfire. They do not flash into sudden lustre, as in the great poets, where the imaginations of poet and reader leap toward each other and meet half-way. English prose is indebted to Dryden for having freed it from the cloister of pedantry. He, more than any other single writer, contributed, as well by precept as example, to give it suppleness of movement and the easier air of the modern world. His own style, juicy with proverbial phrases, has that familiar dignity, so hard to attain, perhaps unattainable except by one who, like Dryden, feels that his position is assured. Charles Cotton is as easy, but not so elegant; Walton as familiar, but not so flowing; Swift as idiomatic, but not so elevated; Burke more splendid, but not so equally luminous. That his style was no easy acquisition (though, of course, the aptitude was innate) he himself tells us. In his dedication of "Troilus and Cressida" (1679), where he seems to hint at the erection of an Academy, he says that "the perfect knowledge of a tongue was never attained by any single person. The Court, the College, and the Town must all be joined in it. And as our English is a composition of the dead and living tongues, there is required a perfect knowledge, not only of the Greek and Latin, but of the Old German, French, and Italian, and to help all these, a conversation with those authors of our own who have written with the fewest faults in prose and verse. But how barbarously we yet write and speak your Lordship knows, and I am sufficiently sensible in my own English.[27] For I am often put to a stand in considering whether what I write be the idiom of the tongue, or false grammar and nonsense couched beneath that specious name of _Anglicism_, and have no other way to clear my doubts but by translating my English into Latin, and thereby trying what sense the words will bear in a more stable language." _Tantae molis erat_. Five years later: "The proprieties and delicacies of the English are known to few; it is impossible even for a good wit to understand and practise them without the help of a liberal education, long reading and digesting of those few good authors we have amongst us, the knowledge of men and manners, _the freedom of habitudes and conversation with the best company of both sexes_, and, in short, without wearing off the rust which he contracted while he was laying in a stock of learning." In the passage I have italicized, it will be seen that Dryden lays some stress upon the influence of women in refining language. Swift, also, in his plan for an Academy, says: "Now, though I would by no means give the ladies the trouble of advising us in the reformation of our language, yet I cannot help thinking that, since they have been left out of all meetings except parties at play, or where worse designs are carried on, our conversation has very much degenerated."[28] Swift affirms that the language had grown corrupt since the Restoration, and that "the Court, which used to be the standard of propriety and correctness of speech, was then, and, I think, has ever since continued, the worst school in England."[29] He lays the blame partly on the general licentiousness, partly upon the French education of many of Charles's courtiers, and partly on the poets. Dryden undoubtedly formed his diction by the usage of the Court. The age was a very free-and-easy, not to say a very coarse one. Its coarseness was not external, like that of Elizabeth's day, but the outward mark of an inward depravity. What Swift's notion of the refinement of women was may be judged by his anecdotes of Stella. I will not say that Dryden's prose did not gain by the conversational elasticity which his frequenting men and women of the world enabled him to give it. It is the best specimen of every-day style that we have. But the habitual dwelling of his mind in a commonplace atmosphere, and among those easy levels of sentiment which befitted Will's Coffee-house and the Bird-cage Walk, was a damage to his poetry. Solitude is as needful to the imagination as society is wholesome for the character. He cannot always distinguish between enthusiasm and extravagance when he sees them. But apart from these influences which I have adduced in exculpation, there was certainly a vein of coarseness in him, a want of that exquisite sensitiveness which is the conscience of the artist. An old gentleman, writing to the Gentleman's Magazine in 1745, professes to remember "plain John Dryden (before he paid his court with success to the great) in one uniform clothing of Norwich drugget. I have eat tarts at the Mulberry Garden with him and Madam Reeve, when our author advanced to a sword and Chadreux wig."[30] I always fancy Dryden in the drugget, with wig, lace ruffles, and sword superimposed. It is the type of this curiously incongruous man. The first poem by which Dryden won a general acknowledgment of his power was the "Annus Mirabilis," written in his thirty-seventh year. Pepys, himself not altogether a bad judge, doubtless expresses the common opinion when he says: "I am very well pleased this night with reading a poem I brought home with me last night from Westminster Hall, of Dryden's, upon the present war; a very good poem."[31] And a very good poem, in some sort, it continues to be, in spite of its amazing blemishes. We must always bear in mind that Dryden lived in an age that supplied him with no ready-made inspiration, and that big phrases and images are apt to be pressed into the service when great ones do not volunteer. With this poem begins the long series of Dryden's prefaces, of which Swift made such excellent, though malicious, fun that I cannot forbear to quote it. "I do utterly disapprove and declare against that pernicious custom of making the _preface_ a bill of fare to the book. For I have always looked upon it as a high point of indiscretion in monster-mongers and other retailers of strange sights to hang out a fair picture over the door, drawn after the life, with a most eloquent description underneath; this has saved me many a threepence.... Such is exactly the fate at this time of _prefaces_.... This expedient was admirable at first; our great Dryden has long carried it as far as it would go, and with incredible success. He has often said to me in confidence, 'that the world would never have suspected him to be so great a poet, if he had not assured them so frequently, in his prefaces, that it was impossible they could either doubt or forget it.' Perhaps it may be so; however, I much fear his instructions have edified out of their place, and taught men to grow wiser in certain points where he never intended they should."[32] The _monster-mongers_ is a terrible thrust, when we remember some of the comedies and heroic plays which Dryden ushered in this fashion. In the dedication of the "Annus" to the city of London is one of those pithy sentences of which Dryden is ever afterwards so full, and which he lets fall with a carelessness that seems always to deepen the meaning: "I have heard, indeed, of some virtuous persons who have ended unfortunately, but never of any virtuous nation; Providence is engaged too deeply when the cause becomes so general." In his "account" of the poem in a letter to Sir Robert Howard he says: "I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains or stanzas of four in alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble and of greater dignity, both for the sound and number, than any other verse in use amongst us.... The learned languages have certainly a great advantage of us in not being tied to the slavery of any rhyme.... But in this necessity of our rhymes, I have always found the couplet verse most easy, though not so proper for this occasion; for there the work is sooner at an end, every two lines concluding the labor of the poet." A little further on: "They [the French] write in alexandrines, or verses of six feet, such as amongst us is the old translation of Homer by Chapman: all which, by lengthening their chain,[33] makes the sphere of their activity the greater." I have quoted these passages because, in a small compass, they include several things characteristic of Dryden. "I have ever judged," and "I have always found," are particularly so. If he took up an opinion in the morning, he would have found so many arguments for it before night that it would seem already old and familiar. So with his reproach of rhyme; a year or two before he was eagerly defending it;[34] again a few years, and he will utterly condemn and drop it in his plays, while retaining it in his translations; afterwards his study of Milton leads him to think that blank verse would suit the epic style better, and he proposes to try it with Homer, but at last translates one book as a specimen, and behold, it is in rhyme! But the charm of this great advocate is, that, whatever side he was on, he could always find excellent reasons for it, and state them with great force, and abundance of happy illustration. He is an exception to the proverb, and is none the worse pleader than he is always pleading his own cause. The blunder about Chapman is of a kind into which his hasty temperament often betrayed him. He remembered that Chapman's "Iliad" was in a long measure, concluded without looking that it was alexandrine, and then attributes it generally to his "Homer." Chapman's "Iliad" is done in fourteen-syllable verse, and his "Odyssee" in the very metre that Dryden himself used in his own version,[35] I remark also what he says of the couplet, that it was easy because the second verse concludes the labor of the poet. And yet it was Dryden who found it hard for that very reason. His vehement abundance refused those narrow banks, first running over into a triplet, and, even then uncontainable, rising to an alexandrine in the concluding verse. And I have little doubt that it was the roominess, rather than the dignity, of the quatrain which led him to choose it. As apposite to this, I may quote what he elsewhere says of octosyllabic verse: "The thought can turn itself with greater ease in a larger compass. When the rhyme comes too thick upon us, it straightens the expression: we are thinking of the close, when we should be employed in adorning the thought. It makes a poet giddy with turning in a space too narrow for his imagination."[36] Dryden himself, as was not always the case with him, was well satisfied with his work. He calls it his best hitherto, and attributes his success to the excellence of his subject, "incomparably the best he had ever had, _excepting only the Royal Family_." The first part is devoted to the Dutch war; the last to the fire of London. The martial half is infinitely the better of the two. He altogether surpasses his model, Davenant. If his poem lack the gravity of thought attained by a few stanzas of "Gondibert," it is vastly superior in life, in picturesqueness, in the energy of single lines, and, above all, in imagination. Few men have read "Gondibert," and almost every one speaks of it, as commonly of the dead, with a certain subdued respect. And it deserves respect as an honest effort to bring poetry back to its highest office in the ideal treatment of life. Davenant emulated Spenser, and if his poem had been as good as his preface, it could still be read in another spirit than that of investigation. As it is, it always reminds me of Goldsmith's famous verse. It is remote, unfriendly, solitary, and, above all, slow. Its shining passages, for there are such, remind one of distress-rockets sent up at intervals from a ship just about to founder, and sadden rather than cheer.[37] The first part of the "Annus Mirabilis" is by no means clear of the false taste of the time,[38] though it has some of Dryden's manliest verses and happiest comparisons, always his two distinguishing merits. Here, as almost everywhere else in Dryden, measuring him merely as poet, we recall what he, with pathetic pride, says of himself in the prologue to "Aurengzebe":-- "Let him retire, betwixt two ages cast, The first of this, the hindmost of the last." What can be worse than what he says of comets?-- "Whether they unctuous exhalations are Fired by the sun, or seeming so alone, Or each some more remote and slippery star Which loses footing when to mortals shown." Or than this, of the destruction of the Dutch India ships?-- "Amidst whole heaps of spices lights a ball, And now their odors armed against them fly; Some preciously by shattered porcelain fall, And some by aromatic splinters die." Dear Dr. Johnson had his doubts about Shakespeare, but here at least was poetry! This is one of the quatrains which he pronounces "worthy of our author."[39] But Dryden himself has said that "a man who is resolved to praise an author with any appearance of justice must be sure to take him on the strongest side, and where he is least liable to exceptions." This is true also of one who wishes to measure an author fairly, for the higher wisdom of criticism lies in the capacity to admire. Leser, wie gefall ich dir? Leser, wie gefällst du mir? are both fair questions, the answer to the first being more often involved in that to the second than is sometimes thought. The poet in Dryden was never more fully revealed than in such verses as these:-- "And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove,[40] Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand"; "Silent in smoke of cannon they come on"; "And his loud guns speak thick, like angry men"; "The vigorous seaman every port-hole plies, And adds his heart to every gun he fires"; "And, though to me unknown, they sure fought well, Whom Rupert led, and who were British born." This is masculine writing, and yet it must be said that there is scarcely a quatrain in which the rhyme does not trip him into a platitude, and there are too many swaggering with that _expression forte d'un sentiment faible_ which Voltaire condemns in Corneille,--a temptation to which Dryden always lay too invitingly open. But there are passages higher in kind than any I have cited, because they show imagination. Such are the verses in which he describes the dreams of the disheartened enemy:-- "In dreams they fearful precipices tread, Or, shipwrecked, labor to some distant shore, Or in dark churches walk among the dead"; and those in which he recalls glorious memories, and sees where "The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose, And armëd Edwards looked with anxious eyes." A few verses, like the pleasantly alliterative one in which he makes the spider, "from the silent ambush of his den," "feel far off the trembling of his thread," show that he was beginning to study the niceties of verse, instead of trusting wholly to what he would have called his natural _fougue_. On the whole, this part of the poem is very good war poetry, as war poetry goes (for there is but one first-rate poem of the kind in English,--short, national, eager as if the writer were personally engaged, with the rapid metre of a drum beating the charge,--and that is Drayton's "Battle of Agincourt"),[41] but it shows more study of Lucan than of Virgil, and for a long time yet we shall find Dryden bewildered by bad models. He is always imitating--no, that is not the word, always emulating--somebody in his more strictly poetical attempts, for in that direction he always needed some external impulse to set his mind in motion. This is more or less true of all authors; nor does it detract from their originality, which depends wholly on their being able so far to forget themselves as to let something of themselves slip into what they write.[42] Of absolute originality we will not speak till authors are raised by some Deucalion-and-Pyrrha process; and even then our faith would be small, for writers who have no past are pretty sure of having no future. Dryden, at any rate, always had to have his copy set him at the top of the page, and wrote ill or well accordingly. His mind (somewhat solid for a poet) warmed slowly, but, once fairly heated through, he had more of that good-luck of self-oblivion than most men. He certainly gave even a liberal interpretation to Molière's rule of taking his own property wherever he found it, though he sometimes blundered awkwardly about what was properly _his_; but in literature, it should be remembered, a thing always becomes his at last who says it best, and thus makes it his own.[43] Mr. Savage Landor once told me that he said to Wordsworth: "Mr. Wordsworth, a man may mix poetry with prose as much as he pleases, and it will only elevate and enliven; but the moment he mixes a particle of prose with his poetry, it precipitates the whole." Wordsworth, he added, never forgave him. The always hasty Dryden, as I think I have already said, was liable, like a careless apothecary's 'prentice, to make the same confusion of ingredients, especially in the more mischievous way. I cannot leave the "Annus Mirabilis" without giving an example of this. Describing the Dutch prizes, rather like an auctioneer than a poet, he says that "Some English wool, vexed in a Belgian loom, And into cloth of spongy softness made, Did into France or colder Denmark doom, To ruin with worse ware our staple trade." One might fancy this written by the secretary of a board of trade in an unguarded moment; but we should remember that the poem is dedicated to the city of London. The depreciation of the rival fabrics is exquisite; and Dryden, the most English of our poets, would not be so thoroughly English if he had not in him some fibre of _la nation boutiquière_. Let us now see how he succeeds in attempting to infuse science (the most obstinately prosy material) with poetry. Speaking of "a more exact knowledge of the longitudes," as he explains in a note, he tells us that, "Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, And view the ocean leaning on the sky; From thence our rolling neighbors we shall know, And on the lunar world securely pry." Dr. Johnson confesses that he does not understand this. Why should he, when it is plain that Dryden was wholly in the dark himself! To understand it is none of my business, but I confess that it interests me as an Americanism. We have hitherto been credited as the inventors of the "jumping-off place" at the extreme western verge of the world. But Dryden was beforehand with us. Though he doubtless knew that the earth was a sphere (and perhaps that it was flattened at the poles), it was always a flat surface in his fancy. In his "Amphitryon," he makes Alcmena say:-- "No, I would fly thee to the ridge of earth, And leap the precipice to 'scape thy sight." And in his "Spanish Friar," Lorenzo says to Elvira that they "will travel together to the ridge of the world, and then drop together into the next." It is idle for us poor Yankees to hope that we can invent anything. To say sooth, if Dryden had left nothing behind him but the "Annus Mirabilis," he might have served as a type of the kind of poet America would have produced by the biggest-river-and-tallest-mountain recipe,--longitude and latitude in plenty, with marks of culture scattered here and there like the _carets_ on a proof-sheet. It is now time to say something of Dryden as a dramatist. In the thirty-two years between 1662 and 1694 he produced twenty-five plays, and assisted Lee in two. I have hinted that it took Dryden longer than most men to find the true bent of his genius. On a superficial view, he might almost seem to confirm that theory, maintained by Johnson, among others, that genius was nothing more than great intellectual power exercised persistently in some particular direction which chance decided, so that it lay in circumstance merely whether a man should turn out a Shakespeare or a Newton. But when we come to compare what he wrote, regardless of Minerva's averted face, with the spontaneous production of his happier muse, we shall be inclined to think his example one of the strongest cases against the theory in question. He began his dramatic career, as usual, by rowing against the strong current of his nature, and pulled only the more doggedly the more he felt himself swept down the stream. His first attempt was at comedy, and, though his earliest piece of that kind (the "Wild Gallant," 1663) utterly failed, he wrote eight others afterwards. On the 23d February, 1663, Pepys writes in his diary: "To Court, and there saw the 'Wild Gallant' performed by the king's house; but it was ill acted, and the play so poor a thing as I never saw in my life almost, and so little answering the name, that, from the beginning to the end, I could not, nor can at this time, tell certainly which was the Wild Gallant. The king did not seem pleased at all the whole play, nor anybody else." After some alteration, it was revived with more success. On its publication in 1669 Dryden honestly admitted its former failure, though with a kind of salvo for his self-love. "I made the town my judges, and the greater part condemned it. After which I do not think it my concernment to defend it with the ordinary zeal of a poet for his decried poem, though Corneille is more resolute in his preface before 'Pertharite,'[44] which was condemned more universally than this.... Yet it was received at Court, and was more than once the divertisement of his Majesty, by his own command." Pepys lets us amusingly behind the scenes in the matter of his Majesty's divertisement. Dryden does not seem to see that in the condemnation of something meant to amuse the public there can be no question of degree. To fail at all is to fail utterly. "_Tous les genres sont permis, hors le genre ennuyeux._" In the reading, at least, all Dryden's comic writing for the stage must be ranked with the latter class. He himself would fain make an exception of the "Spanish Friar," but I confess that I rather wonder at than envy those who can be amused by it. His comedies lack everything that a comedy should have,--lightness, quickness of transition, unexpectedness of incident, easy cleverness of dialogue, and humorous contrast of character brought out by identity of situation. The comic parts of the "Maiden Queen" seem to me Dryden's best, but the merit even of these is Shakespeare's, and there is little choice where even the best is only tolerable. The common quality, however, of all Dryden's comedies is their nastiness, the more remarkable because we have ample evidence that he was a man of modest conversation. Pepys, who was by no means squeamish (for he found "Sir Martin Marall" "the most entire piece of mirth ... that certainly ever was writ ... very good wit therein, not fooling"), writes in his diary of the 19th June, 1668: "My wife and Deb to the king's play-house to-day, thinking to spy me there, and saw the new play 'Evening Love,' of Dryden's, which, though the world commends, she likes not." The next day he saw it himself, "and do not like it, it being very smutty, and nothing so good as the 'Maiden Queen' or the 'Indian Emperor' of Dryden's making. _I was troubled at it_." On the 22d he adds: "Calling this day at Herringman's,[45] he tells me Dryden do himself call it but a fifth-rate play." This was no doubt true, and yet, though Dryden in his preface to the play says, "I confess I have given [yielded] too much to the people in it, and am ashamed for them as well as for myself, that I have pleased them at so cheap a rate," he takes care to add, "not that there is anything here that I would not defend to an ill-natured judge." The plot was from Calderon, and the author, rebutting the charge of plagiarism, tells us that the king ("without whose command they should no longer be troubled with anything of mine") had already answered for him by saying, "that he only desired that they who accused me of theft would always steal him plays like mine." Of the morals of the play he has not a word, nor do I believe that he was conscious of any harm in them till he was attacked by Collier, and then, (with some protest against what he considers the undue severity of his censor) he had the manliness to confess that he had done wrong. "It becomes me not to draw my pen in the defence of a bad cause, when I have so often drawn it for a good one."[46] And in a letter to his correspondent, Mrs. Thomas, written only a few weeks before his death, warning her against the example of Mrs. Behn, he says, with remorseful sincerity: "I confess I am the last man in the world who ought in justice to arraign her, who have been myself too much a libertine in most of my poems, which I should be well contented I had time either to purge or to see them fairly burned." Congreve was less patient, and even Dryden, in the last epilogue he ever wrote, attempts an excuse:-- "Perhaps the Parson stretched a point too far, When with our Theatres he waged a war; He tells you that this very moral age Received the first infection from the Stage, But sure a banished Court, with lewdness fraught, The seeds of open vice returning brought. * * * * * Whitehall the naked Venus first revealed, Who, standing, as at Cyprus, in her shrine, The strumpet was adored with rites divine. * * * * * The poets, who must live by courts or starve, Were proud so good a Government to serve, And, mixing with buffoons and pimps profane, Tainted the Stage for some small snip of gain." Dryden least of all men should have stooped to this palliation, for he had, not without justice, said of himself "The same parts and application which have made me a poet might have raised me to any honors of the gown." Milton and Marvell neither lived by the Court, nor starved. Charles Lamb most ingeniously defends the Comedy of the Restoration as "the sanctuary and quiet Alsatia of hunted casuistry," where there was no pretence of representing a real world.[47] But this was certainly not so. Dryden again and again boasts of the superior advantage which his age had over that of the elder dramatists, in painting polite life, and attributes it to a greater freedom of intercourse between the poets and the frequenters of the Court.[48] We shall be less surprised at the _kind_ of refinement upon which Dryden congratulated himself, when we learn (from the dedication of "Marriage à la Mode") that the Earl of Rochester was its exemplar: "The best comic writers of our age will join with me to acknowledge that they have copied the gallantries of courts, the delicacy of expression, and the decencies of behavior from your Lordship." In judging Dryden, it should be borne in mind that for some years he was under contract to deliver three plays a year, a kind of bond to which no man should subject his brain who has a decent respect for the quality of its products. We should remember, too, that in his day _manners_ meant what we call _morals_, that custom always makes a larger part of virtue among average men than they are quite aware, and that the reaction from an outward conformity which had no root in inward faith may for a time have given to the frank expression of laxity an air of honesty that made it seem almost refreshing. There is no such hotbed for excess of license as excess of restraint, and the arrogant fanaticism of a single virtue is apt to make men suspicious of tyranny in all the rest. But the riot of emancipation could not last long, for the more tolerant society is of private vice, the more exacting will it be of public decorum, that excellent thing, so often the plausible substitute for things more excellent. By 1678 the public mind had so far recovered its tone that Dryden's comedy of "Limberham" was barely tolerated for three nights. I will let the man who looked at human nature from more sides, and therefore judged it more gently than any other, give the only excuse possible for Dryden:-- "Men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them To suffer all alike." Dryden's own apology only makes matters worse for him by showing that he committed his offences with his eyes wide open, and that he wrote comedies so wholly in despite of nature as never to deviate into the comic. Failing as clown, he did not scruple to take on himself the office of Chiffinch to the palled appetite of the public. "For I confess my chief endeavours are to delight the age in which I live. If the humour of this be for low comedy, small accidents, and raillery, I will force my genius to obey it, though with more reputation I could write in verse. I know I am not so fitted by nature to write comedy; I want that gayety of humour which is requisite to it. My conversation is slow and dull, my humour saturnine and reserved: In short, I am none of those who endeavour to break jests in company or make repartees. So that those who decry my comedies do me no injury, except it be in point of profit: Reputation in them is the last thing to which I shall pretend."[49] For my own part, though I have been forced to hold my nose in picking my way through these ordures of Dryden, I am free to say that I think them far less morally mischievous than that _corps-de-ballet_ literature in which the most animal of the passions is made more temptingly naked by a veil of French gauze. Nor does Dryden's lewdness leave such a reek in the mind as the filthy cynicism of Swift, who delighted to uncover the nakedness of our common mother. It is pleasant to follow Dryden into the more congenial region of heroic plays, though here also we find him making a false start. Anxious to please the king,[50] and so able a reasoner as to convince even himself of the justice of whatever cause he argued, he not only wrote tragedies in the French style, but defended his practice in an essay which is by far the most delightful reproduction of the classic dialogue ever written in English. Eugenius (Lord Buckhurst), Lisideius (Sir Charles Sidley), Crites (Sir E. Howard), and Neander (Dryden) are the four partakers in the debate. The comparative merits of ancients and moderns, of the Shakespearian and contemporary drama, of rhyme and blank verse, the value of the three (supposed) Aristotelian unities, are the main topics discussed. The tone of the discussion is admirable, midway between bookishness and talk, and the fairness with which each side of the argument is treated shows the breadth of Dryden's mind perhaps better than any other one piece of his writing. There are no men of straw set up to be knocked down again, as there commonly are in debates conducted upon this plan. The "Defence" of the Essay is to be taken as a supplement to Neander's share in it, as well as many scattered passages in subsequent prefaces and dedications. All the interlocutors agree that "the sweetness of English verse was never understood or practised by our fathers," and that "our poesy is much improved by the happiness of some writers yet living, who first taught us to mould our thoughts into easy and significant words, to retrench the superfluities of expression, and to make our rhyme so properly a part of the verse that it should never mislead the sense, but itself be led and governed by it." In another place he shows that by "living writers" he meant Waller and Denham. "Rhyme has all the advantages of prose besides its own. But the excellence and dignity of it were never fully known till Mr. Waller taught it: he first made writing easily an art; first showed us to conclude the sense, most commonly in distiches, which in the verse before him runs on for so many lines together that the reader is out of breath to overtake it."[51] Dryden afterwards changed his mind, and one of the excellences of his own rhymed verse is, that his sense is too ample to be concluded by the distich. Rhyme had been censured as unnatural in dialogue; but Dryden replies that it is no more so than blank verse, since no man talks any kind of verse in real life. But the argument for rhyme is of another kind. "I am satisfied if it cause delight, for delight is the chief if not the only end of poesy [he should have said _means_]; instruction can be admitted but in the second place, for poesy only instructs as it delights.... The converse, therefore, which a poet is to imitate must be heightened with all the arts and ornaments of poesy, and must be such as, strictly considered, could never be supposed spoken by any without premeditation.... Thus prose, though the rightful prince, yet is by common consent deposed as too weak for the government of serious plays, and, he failing, there now start up two competitors; one the nearer in blood, which is blank verse; the other more fit for the ends of government, which is rhyme. Blank verse is, indeed, the nearer prose, but he is blemished with the weakness of his predecessor. Rhyme (for I will deal clearly) has somewhat of the usurper in him; but he is brave and generous, and his dominion pleasing."[52] To the objection that the difficulties of rhyme will lead to circumlocution, he answers in substance, that a good poet will know how to avoid them. It is curious how long the superstition that Waller was the refiner of English verse has prevailed since Dryden first gave it vogue. He was a very poor poet and a purely mechanical versifier. He has lived mainly on the credit of a single couplet, "The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed. Lets in new light through chinks that Time hath made," in which the melody alone belongs to him, and the conceit, such as it is, to Samuel Daniel, who said, long before, that the body's "Walls, grown thin, permit the mind To look out thorough and his frailty find." Waller has made worse nonsense of it in the transfusion. It might seem that Ben Jonson had a prophetic foreboding of him when he wrote: "Others there are that have no composition at all, but a kind of tuning and rhyming fall, in what they write. It runs and slides and only makes a sound. Women's poets they are called, as you have women's tailors. They write a verse as smooth, as soft, as cream In which there is no torrent, nor scarce stream. You may sound these wits and find the depth of them with your middle-finger."[53] It seems to have been taken for granted by Waller, as afterwards by Dryden, that our elder poets bestowed no thought upon their verse. "Waller was smooth," but unhappily he was also flat, and his importation of the French theory of the couplet as a kind of thought-coop did nothing but mischief.[54] He never compassed even a smoothness approaching this description of a nightingale's song by a third-rate poet of the earlier school,-- "Trails her plain ditty in one long-spun note Through the sleek passage of her open throat, A clear, unwrinkled song,"-- one of whose beauties is its running over into the third verse. Those poets indeed "Felt music's pulse in all her arteries "; and Dryden himself found out, when he came to try it, that blank verse was not so easy a thing as he at first conceived it, nay, that it is the most difficult of all verse, and that it must make up in harmony, by variety of pause and modulation, for what it loses in the melody of rhyme. In what makes the chief merit of his later versification, he but rediscovered the secret of his predecessors in giving to rhymed pentameters something of the freedom of blank verse, and not mistaking metre for rhythm. Voltaire, in his Commentary on Corneille, has sufficiently lamented the awkwardness of movement imposed upon the French dramatists by the gyves of rhyme. But he considers the necessity of overcoming this obstacle, on the whole, an advantage. Difficulty is his tenth and superior muse. How did Dryden, who says nearly the same thing, succeed in his attempt at the French manner? He fell into every one of its vices, without attaining much of what constitutes its excellence. From the nature of the language, all French poetry is purely artificial, and its high polish is all that keeps out decay. The length of their dramatic verse forces the French into much tautology, into bombast in its original meaning, the stuffing out a thought with words till it fills the line. The rigid system of their rhyme, which makes it much harder to manage than in English, has accustomed them to inaccuracies of thought which would shock them in prose. For example, in the "Cinna" of Corneille, as originally written, Emilie says to Augustus,-- "Ces flammes dans nos coeurs dès longtemps étoient nées, Et ce sont des secrets de plus de quatre années." I say nothing of the second verse, which is purely prosaic surplusage exacted by the rhyme, nor of the jingling together of _ces, dès, étoient, nées, des,_ and _secrets_, but I confess that _nées_ does not seem to be the epithet that Corneille would have chosen for _flammes_, if he could have had his own way, and that flames would seem of all things the hardest to keep secret. But in revising, Corneille changed the first verse thus,-- "Ces flammes dans nos coeurs _sans votre ordre_ étoient nées." Can anything be more absurd than flames born to order? Yet Voltaire, on his guard against these rhyming pitfalls for the sense, does not notice this in his minute comments on this play. Of extravagant metaphor, the result of this same making sound the file-leader of sense, a single example from "Heraclius" shall suffice:-- "La vapeur de mon sang ira grossir la foudre Que Dieu tient déja prête à le reduire en poudre." One cannot think of a Louis Quatorze Apollo except in a full-bottomed periwig, and the tragic style of their poets is always showing the disastrous influence of that portentous comet. It is the _style perruque_ in another than the French meaning of the phrase, and the skill lay in dressing it majestically, so that, as Cibber says, "upon the head of a man of sense, _if it became him_, it could never fail of drawing to him a more partial regard and benevolence than could possibly be hoped for in an ill-made one." It did not become Dryden, and he left it off.[55] Like his own Zimri, Dryden was "all for" this or that fancy, till he took up with another. But even while he was writing on French models, his judgment could not be blinded to their defects. "Look upon the 'Cinna' and the 'Pompey,' they are not so properly to be called plays as long discourses of reason of State, and 'Polieucte' in matters of religion is as solemn as the long stops upon our organs; ... their actors speak by the hour-glass like our parsons.... I deny not but this may suit well enough with the French, for as we, who are a more sullen people, come to be diverted at our plays, so they, who are of an airy and gay temper, come thither to make themselves more serious."[56] With what an air of innocent unconsciousness the sarcasm is driven home! Again, while he was still slaving at these bricks without straw, he says: "The present French poets are generally accused that, wheresoever they lay the scene, or in whatever age, the manners of their heroes are wholly French. Racine's Bajazet is bred at Constantinople, but his civilities are conveyed to him by some secret passage from Versailles into the Seraglio." It is curious that Voltaire, speaking of the _Bérénice_ of Racine, praises a passage in it for precisely what Dryden condemns: "Il semble qu'on entende _Henriette_ d'Angleterre elle-même parlant au marquis de _Vardes_. La politesse de la cour de _Louis XIV_., l'agrément de la langue Française, la douceur de la versification la plus naturelle, le sentiment le plus tendre, tout se trouve dans ce peu de vers." After Dryden had broken away from the heroic style, he speaks out more plainly. In the Preface to his "All for Love," in reply to some cavils upon "little, and not essential decencies," the decision about which he refers to a master of ceremonies, he goes on to say: "The French poets, I confess, are strict observers of these punctilios; ... in this nicety of manners does the excellency of French poetry consist. Their heroes are the most civil people breathing, but their good breeding seldom extends to a word of sense. All their wit is in their ceremony; they want the genius which animates our stage, and therefore 't is but necessary, when they cannot please, that they should take care not to offend.... They are so careful not to exasperate a critic that they never leave him any work, ... for no part of a poem is worth our discommending where the whole is insipid, as when we have once tasted palled wine we stay not to examine it glass by glass. But while they affect to shine in trifles, they are often careless in essentials.... For my part, I desire to be tried by the laws of my own country." This is said in heat, but it is plain enough that his mind was wholly changed. In his discourse on epic poetry he is as decided, but more temperate. He says that the French heroic verse "runs with more activity than strength.[57] Their language is not strung with sinews like our English; it has the nimbleness of a greyhound, but not the bulk and body of a mastiff. Our men and our verses overbear them by their weight, and _pondere, non numero_, is the British motto. The French have set up purity for the standard of their language, and a masculine vigor is that of ours. Like their tongue is the genius of their poets,--light and trifling in comparison of the English."[58] Dryden might have profited by an admirable saying of his own, that "they who would combat general authority with particular opinion must first establish themselves a reputation of understanding better than other men." He understood the defects much better than the beauties of the French theatre. Lessing was even more one-sided in his judgment upon it.[59] Goethe, with his usual wisdom, studied it carefully without losing his temper, and tried to profit by its structural merits. Dryden, with his eyes wide open, copied its worst faults, especially its declamatory sentiment. He should have known that certain things can never be transplanted, and that among these is a style of poetry whose great excellence was that it was in perfect sympathy with the genius of the people among whom it came into being. But the truth is, that Dryden had no aptitude whatever for the stage, and in writing for it he was attempting to make a trade of his genius,--an arrangement from which the genius always withdraws in disgust. It was easier to make loose thinking and the bad writing which betrays it pass unobserved while the ear was occupied with the sonorous music of the rhyme to which they marched. Except in "All for Love," "the only play," he tells us, "which he wrote to please himself,"[60] there is no trace of real passion in any of his tragedies. This, indeed, is inevitable, for there are no characters, but only personages, in any except that. That is, in many respects, a noble play, and there are few finer scenes, whether in the conception or the carrying out, than that between Antony and Ventidius in the first act.[61] As usual, Dryden's good sense was not blind to the extravagances of his dramatic style. In "Mac Flecknoe" he makes his own Maximin the type of childish rant, "And little Maximins the gods defy"; but, as usual also, he could give a plausible reason for his own mistakes by means of that most fallacious of all fallacies which is true so far as it goes. In his Prologue to the "Royal Martyr" he says:-- "And he who servilely creeps after sense Is safe, but ne'er will reach an excellence. * * * * * But, when a tyrant for his theme he had, He loosed the reins and let his muse run mad, And, though he stumbles in a full career, Yet rashness is a better fault than fear; * * * * * They then, who of each trip advantage take, Find out those faults which they want wit to make." And in the Preface to the same play he tells us: "I have not everywhere observed the equality of numbers in my verse, partly by reason of my haste, but more especially because I _would not have my sense a slave to syllables_." Dryden, when he had not a bad case to argue, would have had small respect for the wit whose skill lay in the making of faults, and has himself, where his self-love was not engaged, admirably defined the boundary which divides boldness from rashness. What Quintilian says of Seneca applies very aptly to Dryden: "Velles eum suo ingenio dixisse, alieno judicio."[62] He was thinking of himself, I fancy, when he makes Ventidius say of Antony,-- "He starts out wide And bounds into a vice that bears him far From his first course, and plunges him in ills; But, when his danger makes him find his fault, Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse, He censures eagerly his own misdeeds, Judging himself with malice to himself, And not forgiving what as man he did Because his other parts are more than man." But bad though they nearly all are as wholes, his plays contain passages which only the great masters have surpassed, and to the level of which no subsequent writer for the stage has ever risen. The necessity of rhyme often forced him to a platitude, as where he says,-- "My love was blind to your deluding art, But blind men feel when stabbed so near the heart."[63] But even in rhyme he not seldom justifies his claim to the title of "glorious John." In the very play from which I have just quoted are these verses in his best manner:-- "No, like his better Fortune I'll appear, With open arms, loose veil, and flowing hair, Just flying forward from her rolling sphere." His comparisons, as I have said, are almost always happy. This, from the "Indian Emperor," is tenderly pathetic:-- "As callow birds, Whose mother's killed in seeking of the prey, Cry in their nest and think her long away, And, at each leaf that stirs, each blast of wind, Gape for the food which they must never find." And this, of the anger with which the Maiden Queen, striving to hide her jealousy, betrays her love, is vigorous:-- "Her rage was love, and its tempestuous flame, Like lightning, showed the heaven from whence it came." The following simile from the "Conquest of Grenada" is as well expressed as it is apt in conception:-- "I scarcely understand my own intent; But, silk-worm like, so long within have wrought, That I am lost in my own web of thought." In the "Rival Ladies," Angelina, walking in the dark, describes her sensations naturally and strikingly:-- "No noise but what my footsteps make, and they Sound dreadfully and louder than by day: They double too, and every step I take Sounds thick, methinks, and more than one could make." In all the rhymed plays[64] there are many passages which one is rather inclined to like than sure he would be right in liking them. The following verses from "Aurengzebe" are of this sort:-- "My love was such it needed no return, Rich in itself, like elemental fire, Whose pureness does no aliment require." This is Cowleyish, and _pureness_ is surely the wrong word; and yet it is better than mere commonplace. Perhaps what oftenest turns the balance in Dryden's favor, when we are weighing his claims as a poet, is his persistent capability of enthusiasm. To the last he kindles, and sometimes _almost_ flashes out that supernatural light which is the supreme test of poetic genius. As he himself so finely and characteristically says in "Aurengzebe," there was no period in his life when it was not true of him that "He felt the inspiring heat, the absent god return." The verses which follow are full of him, and, with the exception of the single word _underwent_, are in his luckiest manner:-- "One loose, one sally of a hero's soul, Does all the military art control. While timorous wit goes round, or fords the shore, He shoots the gulf, and is already o'er, And, when the enthusiastic fit is spent, Looks back amazed at what he underwent."[65] Pithy sentences and phrases always drop from Dryden's pen as if unawares, whether in prose or verse. I string together a few at random:-- "The greatest argument for love is love." "Few know the use of life before 't is past." "Time gives himself and is not valued." "Death in itself is nothing; but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where." "Love either finds equality or makes it; Like death, he knows no difference in degrees." "That's empire, that which I can give away." "Yours is a soul irregularly great, Which, wanting temper, yet abounds in heat." "Forgiveness to the injured does belong, But they ne'er pardon who have done the wrong." "Poor women's thoughts are all extempore." "The cause of love can never be assigned, 'T is in no face, but in the lover's mind."[66] "Heaven can forgive a crime to penitence, For Heaven can judge if penitence be true; But man, who knows not hearts, should make examples." "Kings' titles commonly begin by force, Which time wears off and mellows into right." "Fear's a large promiser; who subject live To that base passion, know not what they give." "The secret pleasure of the generous act Is the great mind's great bribe." "That bad thing, gold, buys all good things." "Why, love does all that's noble here below." "To prove religion true, If either wit or sufferings could suffice, All faiths afford the constant and the wise." But Dryden, as he tells us himself, "Grew weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme; Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound, And Nature flies him like enchanted ground." The finest things in his plays were written in blank verse, as vernacular to him as the alexandrine to the French. In this he vindicates his claim as a poet. His diction gets wings, and both his verse and his thought become capable of a reach which was denied them when set in the stocks of the couplet. The solid man becomes even airy in this new-found freedom: Anthony says, "How I loved, Witness ye days and nights, and all ye hours That _danced away with down upon your feet_." And what image was ever more delicately exquisite, what movement more fadingly accordant with the sense, than in the last two verses of the following passage? "I feel death rising higher still and higher, Within my bosom; every breath I fetch Shuts up my life within a shorter compass, _And, like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less And less each pulse, till it be lost in air_."[67] Nor was he altogether without pathos, though it is rare with him. The following passage seems to me tenderly full of it:-- "Something like That voice, methinks, I should have somewhere heard; But floods of woe have hurried it far off Beyond my ken of soul."[68] And this single verse from "Aurengzebe":-- "Live still! oh live! live even to be unkind!" with its passionate eagerness and sobbing repetition, is worth a ship-load of the long-drawn treacle of modern self-compassion. Now and then, to be sure, we come upon something that makes us hesitate again whether, after all, Dryden was not grandiose rather than great, as in the two passages that next follow:-- "He looks secure of death, superior greatness, Like Jove when he made Fate and said, Thou art The slave of my creation."[69] "I'm pleased with my own work; Jove was not more With infant nature, when his spacious hand Had rounded this huge ball of earth and seas, To give it the first push and see it roll Along the vast abyss."[70] I should say that Dryden is more apt to dilate our fancy than our thought, as great poets have the gift of doing. But if he have not the potent alchemy that transmutes the lead of our commonplace associations into gold, as Shakespeare knows how to do so easily, yet his sense is always up to the sterling standard; and though he has not added so much as some have done to the stock of bullion which others afterwards coin and put in circulation, there are few who have minted so many phrases that are still a part of our daily currency. The first line of the following passage has been worn pretty smooth, but the succeeding ones are less familiar:-- "Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too and full as vain; And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room, Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing; But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind, Works all her folly up and casts it outward In the world's open view."[71] The image is mixed and even contradictory, but the thought obtains grace for it. I feel as if Shakespeare would have written _seeing_ for _viewing_, thus gaining the strength of repetition in one verse and avoiding the sameness of it in the other. Dryden, I suspect, was not much given to correction, and indeed one of the great charms of his best writing is that everything seems struck off at a heat, as by a superior man in the best mood of his talk. Where he rises, he generally becomes fervent rather than imaginative; his thought does not incorporate itself in metaphor, as in purely poetic minds, but repeats and reinforces itself in simile. Where he _is_ imaginative, it is in that lower sense which the poverty of our language, for want of a better word, compels us to call _picturesque_, and even then he shows little of that finer instinct which suggests so much more than it tells, and works the more powerfully as it taxes more the imagination of the reader. In Donne's "Relic" there is an example of what I mean. He fancies some one breaking up his grave and spying "A bracelet of bright hair about the bone,"-- a verse that still shines there in the darkness of the tomb, after two centuries, like one of those inextinguishable lamps whose secret is lost.[72] Yet Dryden sometimes showed a sense of this magic of a mysterious hint, as in the "Spanish Friar":-- "No, I confess, you bade me not in words; The dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs, And pointed full upon the stroke of murder." This is perhaps a solitary example. Nor is he always so possessed by the image in his mind as unconsciously to choose even the picturesquely imaginative word. He has done so, however, in this passage from "Marriage à la Mode":-- "You ne'er mast hope again to see your princess, Except as prisoners view fair walks and streets, And careless passengers going by their grates." But after all, he is best upon a level, table-land, it is true, and a very high level, but still somewhere between the loftier peaks of inspiration and the plain of every-day life. In those passages where he moralizes he is always good, setting some obvious truth in a new light by vigorous phrase and happy illustration. Take this (from "Oedipus") as a proof of it:-- "The gods are just, But how can finite measure infinite? Reason! alas, it does not know itself! Yet man, vain man, would with his short-lined plummet Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice. Whatever is, is in its causes just, Since all things are by fate. But purblind man Sees but a part o' th' chain, the nearest links, His eyes not carrying to that equal beam That poises all above." From the same play I pick an illustration of that ripened sweetness of thought and language which marks the natural vein of Dryden. One cannot help applying the passage to the late Mr. Quincy:-- "Of no distemper, of no blast he died, But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long, E'en wondered at because he dropt no sooner; Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years; Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more, Till, like a clock worn out with eating Time, The wheels of weary life at last stood still."[73] Here is another of the same kind from "All for Love":-- "Gone so soon! Is Death no more? He used him carelessly, With a familiar kindness; ere he knocked, Ran to the door and took him in his arms, As who should say, You're welcome at all hours, A friend need give no warning." With one more extract from the same play, which is in every way his best, for he had, when he wrote it, been feeding on the bee-bread of Shakespeare, I shall conclude. Antony says, "For I am now so sunk from what I was, Thou find'st me at my lowest water-mark. The rivers that ran in and raised my fortunes Are all dried up, or take another course: What I have left is from my native spring; I've a heart still that swells in scorn of Fate, And lifts me to my banks." This is certainly, from beginning to end, in what used to be called the _grand_ style, at once noble and natural. I have not undertaken to analyze any one of the plays, for (except in "All for Love") it would have been only to expose their weakness. Dryden had _no_ constructive faculty; and in every one of his longer poems that required a plot, the plot is bad, always more or less inconsistent with itself, and rather hitched-on to the subject than combining with it. It is fair to say, however, before leaving this part of Dryden's literary work, that Horne Tooke thought "Don Sebastian" "the best play extant."[74] Gray admired the plays of Dryden, "not as dramatic compositions, but as poetry."[75] "There are as many things finely said in his plays as almost by anybody," said Pope to Spence. Of their rant, their fustian, their bombast, their bad English, of their innumerable sins against Dryden's own better conscience both as poet and critic, I shall excuse myself from giving any instances.[76] I like what is good in Dryden so much, and it _is_ so good, that I think Gray was justified in always losing his temper when he heard "his faults criticised."[77] It is as a satirist and pleader in verse that Dryden is best known, and as both he is in some respects unrivalled. His satire is not so sly as Chaucer's, but it is distinguished by the same good-nature. There is no malice in it. I shall not enter into his literary quarrels further than to say that he seems to me, on the whole, to have been forbearing, which is the more striking as he tells us repeatedly that he was naturally vindictive. It was he who called revenge "the darling attribute of heaven." "I complain not of their lampoons and libels, though I have been the public mark for many years. I am vindictive enough to have repelled force by force, if I could imagine that any of them had ever reached me." It was this feeling of easy superiority, I suspect, that made him the mark for so much jealous vituperation. Scott is wrong in attributing his onslaught upon Settle to jealousy because one of the latter's plays had been performed at Court,--an honor never paid to any of Dryden's.[78] I have found nothing like a trace of jealousy in that large and benignant nature. In his vindication of the "Duke of Guise," he says, with honest confidence in himself: "Nay, I durst almost refer myself to some of the angry poets on the other side, whether I have not rather countenanced and assisted their beginnings than hindered them from rising." He seems to have been really as indifferent to the attacks on himself as Pope pretended to be. In the same vindication he says of the "Rehearsal," the only one of them that had any wit in it, and it has a great deal: "Much less am I concerned at the noble name of Bayes; that's a brat so like his own father that he cannot be mistaken for any other body. They might as reasonably have called Tom Sternhold Virgil, and the resemblance would have held as well." In his Essay on Satire he says: "And yet we know that in Christian charity all offences are to be forgiven as we expect the like pardon for those we daily commit against Almighty God. And this consideration has often made me tremble when I was saying our Lord's Prayer; for the plain condition of the forgiveness which we beg is the pardoning of others the offences which they have done to us; for which reason I have many times avoided the commission of that fault, even when I have been notoriously provoked."[79] And in another passage he says, with his usual wisdom: "Good sense and good-nature are never separated, though the ignorant world has thought otherwise. Good-nature, by which I mean beneficence and candor, is the product of right reason, which of necessity will give allowance to the failings of others, by considering that there is nothing perfect in mankind." In the same Essay he gives his own receipt for satire: "How easy it is to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! but how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms!... This is the mystery of that noble trade.... Neither is it true that this fineness of raillery is offensive: a witty man is tickled while he is hurt in this manner, and a fool feels it not.... There is a vast difference between the slovenly butchering of a man and the fineness of a stroke that separates the head from the body, and leaves it standing in its place. A man may be capable, as Jack Ketch's wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of work, of a bare hanging; but to make a malefactor die sweetly was only belonging to her husband. I wish I could apply it to myself, if the reader would be kind enough to think it belongs to me. The character of Zimri in my 'Absalom' is, in my opinion, worth the whole poem. It is not bloody, but it is ridiculous enough, and he for whom it was intended was too witty to resent it as an injury.... I avoided the mention of great crimes, and applied myself to the representing of blind sides and little extravagances, to which, the wittier a man is, he is genrally the more obnoxious." Dryden thought his genius led him that way. In his elegy on the satirist Oldham, whom Hallam, without reading him, I suspect, ranks next to Dryden,[80] he says:-- "For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine; One common note in either lyre did strike, And knaves and fools we both abhorred alike." His practice is not always so delicate as his theory; but if he was sometimes rough, he never took a base advantage. He knocks his antagonist down, and there an end. Pope seems to have nursed his grudge, and then, watching his chance, to have squirted vitriol from behind a corner, rather glad than otherwise if it fell on the women of those he hated or envied. And if Dryden is never dastardly, as Pope often was, so also he never wrote anything so maliciously depreciatory as Pope's unprovoked attack on Addison. Dryden's satire is often coarse, but where it is coarsest, it is commonly in defence of himself against attacks that were themselves brutal. Then, to be sure, he snatches the first ready cudgel, as in Shadwell's case, though even then there is something of the good-humor of conscious strength. Pope's provocation was too often the mere opportunity to say a biting thing, where he could do it safely. If his victim showed fight, he tried to smooth things over, as with Dennis. Dryden could forget that he had ever had a quarrel, but he never slunk away from any, least of all from one provoked by himself.[81] Pope's satire is too much occupied with the externals of manners, habits, personal defects, and peculiarities. Dryden goes right to the rooted character of the man, to the weaknesses of his nature, as where he says of Burnet:-- "Prompt to assail, and careless of defence, Invulnerable in his impudence, He dares the world, and, eager of a name, He thrusts about and _justles into fame_. So fond of loud report that, not to miss Of being known (his last and utmost bliss), _He rather would be known for what he is_." It would be hard to find in Pope such compression of meaning as in the first, or such penetrative sarcasm as in the second of the passages I have underscored. Dryden's satire is still quoted for its comprehensiveness of application, Pope's rather for the elegance of its finish and the point of its phrase than for any deeper qualities.[82] I do not remember that Dryden ever makes poverty a reproach.[83] He was above it, alike by generosity of birth and mind. Pope is always the _parvenu_, always giving himself the airs of a fine gentleman, and, like Horace Walpole and Byron, affecting superiority to professional literature. Dryden, like Lessing, was a hack-writer, and was proud, as an honest man has a right to be, of being able to get his bread by his brains. He lived in Grub Street all his life, and never dreamed that where a man of genius lived was not the best quarter of the town. "Tell his Majesty," said sturdy old Jonson, "that his soul lives in an alley." Dryden's prefaces are a mine of good writing and judicious criticism. His _obiter dicta_ have often the penetration, and always more than the equity, of Voltaire's, for Dryden never loses temper, and never altogether qualifies his judgment by his self-love. "He was a more universal writer than Voltaire," said Horne Tooke, and perhaps it is true that he had a broader view, though his learning was neither so extensive nor so accurate. My space will not afford many extracts, but I cannot forbear one or two. He says of Chaucer, that "he is a perpetual fountain of good sense,"[84] and likes him better than Ovid,--a bold confession in that day. He prefers the pastorals of Theocritus to those of Virgil. "Virgil's shepherds are too well read in the philosophy of Epicurus and of Plato"; "there is a kind of rusticity in all those pompous verses, somewhat of a holiday shepherd strutting in his country buskins";[85] "Theocritus is softer than Ovid, he touches the passions more delicately, and performs all this out of his own fund, without diving into the arts and sciences for a supply. Even his Doric dialect has an incomparable sweetness in his clownishness, like a fair shepherdess, in her country russet, talking in a Yorkshire tone."[86] Comparing Virgil's verse with that of some other poets, he says, that his "numbers are perpetually varied to increase the delight of the reader, so that the same sounds are never repeated twice together. On the contrary, Ovid and Claudian, though they write in styles different from each other, yet have each of them but one sort of music in their verses. All the versification and little variety of Claudian is included within the compass of four or five lines, and then he begins again in the same tenor, perpetually closing his sense at the end of a verse, and that verse commonly which they call golden, or two substantives and two adjectives with a verb betwixt them to keep the peace. Ovid, with all his sweetness, has as little variety of numbers and sound as he; he is always, as it were, upon the hand-gallop, and his verse runs upon carpet-ground."[87] What a dreary half-century would have been saved to English poetry, could Pope have laid these sentences to heart! Upon translation, no one has written so much and so well as Dryden in his various prefaces. Whatever has been said since is either expansion or variation of what he had said before. His general theory may be stated as an aim at something between the literalness of metaphrase and the looseness of paraphase. "Where I have enlarged," he says, "I desire the false critics would not always think that those thoughts are wholly mine, but either _they are secretly in the poet_, or may be fairly deduced from him." Coleridge, with his usual cleverness of _assimilation_, has condensed him in a letter to Wordsworth: "There is no medium between a prose version and one on the avowed principle of _compensation_ in the widest sense, i.e. manner, genius, total effect."[88] I have selected these passages, not because they are the best, but because they have a near application to Dryden himself. His own characterization of Chaucer (though too narrow for the greatest but one of English poets) is the best that could be given of himself: "He is a perpetual fountain of good sense." And the other passages show him a close and open-minded student of the art he professed. Has his influence on our literature, but especially on our poetry, been on the whole for good or evil? If he could have been read with the liberal understanding which he brought to the works of others, I should answer at once that it had been beneficial. But his translations and paraphrases, in some ways the best things he did, were done, like his plays, under contract to deliver a certain number of verses for a specified sum. The versification, of which he had learned the art by long practice, is excellent, but his haste has led him to fill out the measure of lines with phrases that add only to dilute, and thus the clearest, the most direct, the most manly versifier of his time became, without meaning it, the source (_fons et origo malorum_) of that poetic diction from which our poetry has not even yet recovered. I do not like to say it, but he has sometimes smothered the childlike simplicity of Chaucer under feather-beds of verbiage. What this kind of thing came to in the next century, when everybody ceremoniously took a bushel-basket to bring a wren's egg to market in, is only too sadly familiar. It is clear that his natural taste led Dryden to prefer directness and simplicity of style. If he was too often tempted astray by Artifice, his love of Nature betrays itself in many an almost passionate outbreak of angry remorse. Addison tells us that he took particular delight in the reading of our old English ballads. What he valued above all things was Force, though in his haste he is willing to make a shift with its counterfeit, Effect. As usual, he had a good reason to urge for what he did: "I will not excuse, but justify myself for one pretended crime for which I am liable to be charged by false critics, not only in this translation, but in many of my original poems,--that I Latinize too much. It is true that when I find an English word significant and sounding, I neither borrow from the Latin or any other language; but when I want at home I must seek abroad. If sounding words are not of our growth and manufacture, who shall hinder me to import them from a foreign country? I carry not out the treasure of the nation which is never to return; but what I bring from Italy I spend in England: here it remains, and here it circulates; for if the coin be good, it will pass from one hand to another. I trade both with the living and the dead for the enrichment of our native language. We have enough in England to supply our necessity; but if we will have things of magnificence and splendor, we must get them by commerce.... Therefore, if I find a word in a classic author, I propose it to be naturalized by using it myself, and if the public approve of it the bill passes. But every man cannot distinguish betwixt pedantry and poetry; every man, therefore, is not fit to innovate."[89] This is admirably said, and with Dryden's accustomed penetration to the root of the matter. The Latin has given us most of our canorous words, only they must not be confounded with merely sonorous ones, still less with phrases that, instead of supplementing the sense, encumber it. It was of Latinizing in this sense that Dryden was guilty. Instead of stabbing, he "with steel invades the life." The consequence was that by and by we have Dr. Johnson's poet, Savage, telling us,-- "In front, a parlor meets my entering view, Opposed a room to sweet refection due"; Dr. Blacklock making a forlorn maiden say of her "dear," who is out late,-- "Or by some apoplectic fit deprest Perhaps, alas! he seeks eternal rest"; and Mr. Bruce, in a Danish war-song, calling on the vikings to "assume their oars." But it must be admitted of Dryden that he seldom makes the second verse of a couplet the mere trainbearer to the first, as Pope was continually doing. In Dryden the rhyme waits upon the thought; in Pope and his school the thought courtesies to the tune for which it is written. Dryden has also been blamed for his gallicisms.[90] He tried some, it is true, but they have not been accepted. I do not think he added a single word to the language; unless, as I suspect, he first used _magnetism_ in its present sense of moral attraction. What he did in his best writing was to use the English as if it were a spoken, and not merely an inkhorn language; as if it were his own to do what he pleased with it, as if it need not be ashamed of itself.[91] In this respect, his service to our prose was greater than any other man has ever rendered. He says he formed his style upon Tillotson's (Bossuet, on the other hand, formed _his_ upon Corneille's); but I rather think he got it at Will's, for its great charm is that it has the various freedom of talk.[92] In verse, he had a pomp which, excellent in itself, became pompousness in his imitators. But he had nothing of Milton's ear for various rhythm and interwoven harmony. He knew how to give new modulation, sweetness, and force to the pentameter; but in what used to be called pindarics, I am heretic enough to think he generally failed. His so much praised "Alexander's Feast" (in parts of it, at least) has no excuse for its slovenly metre and awkward expression, but that it was written for music. He himself tells us, in the epistle dedicatory to "King Arthur," "that the numbers of poetry and vocal music are sometimes so contrary, that in many places I have been obliged to cramp my verses and make them ragged to the reader that they may be harmonious to the hearer." His renowned ode suffered from this constraint, but this is no apology for the vulgarity of conception in too many passages.[93] Dryden's conversion to Romanism has been commonly taken for granted as insincere, and has therefore left an abiding stain on his character, though the other mud thrown at him by angry opponents or rivals brushed off so soon as it was dry. But I think his change of faith susceptible of several explanations, none of them in any way discreditable to him. Where Church and State are habitually associated, it is natural that minds even of a high order should unconsciously come to regard religion as only a subtler mode of police.[94] Dryden, conservative by nature, had discovered before Joseph de Maistre, that Protestantism, so long as it justified its name by continuing to be an active principle, was the abettor of Republicanism. I think this is hinted in more than one passage in his preface to "The Hind and Panther." He may very well have preferred Romanism because of its elder claim to authority in all matters of doctrine, but I think he had a deeper reason in the constitution of his own mind. That he was "naturally inclined to scepticism in philosophy," he tells us of himself in the preface to the "Religio Laici"; but he was a sceptic with an imaginative side, and in such characters scepticism and superstition play into each other's hands. This finds a curious illustration in a letter to his sons, written four years before his death: "Towards the latter end of this month, September, Charles will begin to recover his perfect health, according to his Nativity, which, casting it myself, I am sure is true, and all things hitherto have happened accordingly to the very time that I predicted them." Have we forgotten Montaigne's votive offerings at the shrine of Loreto? Dryden was short of body, inclined to stoutness, and florid of complexion. He is said to have had "a sleepy eye," but was handsome and of a manly carriage. He "was not a very genteel man, he was intimate with none but poetical men.[95] He was said to be a very good man by all that knew him: he was as plump as Mr. Pitt, of a fresh color and a down look, and not very conversible." So Pope described him to Spence. He still reigns in literary tradition, as when at Will's his elbow-chair had the best place by the fire in winter, or on the balcony in summer, and when a pinch from his snuff-box made a young author blush with pleasure as would now-a-days a favorable notice in the "Saturday Review." What gave and secures for him this singular eminence? To put it in a single word, I think that his qualities and faculties were in that rare combination which makes character. This gave _flavor_ to whatever he wrote,--a very rare quality. Was he, then, a great poet? Hardly, in the narrowest definition. But he was a strong thinker who sometimes carried common sense to a height where it catches the light of a diviner air, and warmed reason till it had wellnigh the illuminating property of intuition. Certainly he is not, like Spenser, the poets' poet, but other men have also their rights. Even the Philistine is a man and a brother, and is entirely right so far as he sees. To demand more of him is to be unreasonable. And he sees, among other things, that a man who undertakes to write should first have a meaning perfectly defined to himself, and then should be able to set it forth clearly in the best words. This is precisely Dryden's praise,[96] and amid the rickety sentiment looming big through misty phrase which marks so much of modern literature, to read him is as bracing as a northwest wind. He blows the mind clear. In ripeness of mind and bluff heartiness of expression, he takes rank with the best. His phrase is always a short-cut to his sense, for his estate was too spacious for him to need that trick of winding the path of his thought about, and planting it out with clumps of epithet, by which the landscape-gardeners of literature give to a paltry half-acre the air of a park. In poetry, to be next-best is, in one sense, to be nothing; and yet to be among the first in any kind of writing, as Dryden certainly was, is to be one of a very small company. He had, beyond most, the gift of the right word. And if he does not, like one or two of the greater masters of song, stir our sympathies by that indefinable aroma so magical in arousing the subtile associations of the soul, he has this in common with the few great writers, that the winged seeds of his thought embed themselves in the memory and germinate there. If I could be guilty of the absurdity of recommending to a young man any author on whom to form his style, I should tell him that, next to having something that will not stay unsaid, he could find no safer guide than Dryden. Cowper, in a letter to Mr. Unwin (5th January, 1782), expresses what I think is the common feeling about Dryden, that, with all his defects, he had that indefinable something we call Genius. "But I admire Dryden most [he had been speaking of Pope], who has succeeded by mere dint of genius, and in spite of a laziness and a carelessness almost peculiar to himself. His faults are numberless, and so are his beauties. His faults are those of a great man, and his beauties are such (at least sometimes) as Pope with all his touching and retouching could never equal." But, after all, perhaps no man has summed him up so well as John Dennis, one of Pope's typical dunces, a dull man outside of his own sphere, as men are apt to be, but who had some sound notions as a critic, and thus became the object of Pope's fear and therefore of his resentment. Dennis speaks of him as his "departed friend, whom I infinitely esteemed when living for the solidity of his thought, for the spring and the warmth and the beautiful turn of it; for the power and variety and fulness of his harmony; for the purity, the perspicuity, the energy of his expression; and, whenever these great qualities are required, for the pomp and solemnity and majesty of his style."[97] Footnotes: [1] The Dramatick Works of John Dryden, Esq. In six volumes. London: Printed for Jacob Tonson, in the Strand. MDCCXXXV. 18mo. The Critical and Miscellaneous Prose-Works of John Dryden, now first collected. With Notes and Illustrations. An Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, grounded on Original and Authentick Documents; and a Collection of his Letters, the greatest Part of which has never before been published. By Edmund Malone, Esq. London: T. Cadell and W. Davies, in the Strand. 4 vols. 8vo. The Poetical Works of John Dryden. (Edited by Mitford.) London: W. Pickering. 1832. 6 vols. 18mo. [2] His "Character of a Happy Warrior" (1806), one of his noblest poems, has a dash of Dryden in it,--still more his "Epistle to Sir George Beaumont (1811)." [3] He studied Dryden's versification before writing his "Lamia." [4] On the Origin and Progress of Satire. See Johnson's counter-opinion in his life of Dryden. [5] Essay on Dramatick Posey. [6] Life of Lucian. [7] "The great man must have that intellect which puts in motion the intellect of others."--Landor, _Im. Con._, Diogenes and Plato. [8] Character of Polybius (1692). [9] "For my own part, who must confess it to my shame that I never read anything but for pleasure." Life of Plutarch (1683). [10] Gray says petulantly enough that "Dryden was as disgraceful to the office, from his character, as the poorest scribbler could have been from his verses."--Gray to Mason, 19th December, 1757. [11] Essay on the Origin and Progress of Satire. [12] Dedication of the Georgics. [13] Dryden's penetration is always remarkable. His general judgment of Polybius coincides remarkably with that of Mommsen. (Röm. Gesch. II. 448, _seq_.) [14] "I have taken some pains to make it my masterpiece in English." Preface to Second Miscellany. Fox said that it "was better than the original." J.C. Scaliger said of Erasmus: "Ex alieno ingenio poeta, ex suo versificator." [15] In one of the last letters he ever wrote, thanking his cousin Mrs. Steward for a gift of marrow-puddings, he says: "A chine of honest bacon would please my appetite more than all the marrow-puddings; for I like them better plain, having a very vulgar stomach." So of Cowley he says: "There was plenty enough, but ill sorted, whole pyramids of sweetmeats for boys and women, but little of solid meat for men." The physical is a truer antitype of the spiritual man than we are willing to admit, and the brain is often forced to acknowledge the inconvenient country-cousinship of the stomach. [16] In his preface to "All for Love," he says, evidently alluding to himself: "If he have a friend whose hastiness in writing is his greatest fault, Horace would have taught him to have minced the matter, and to have called it readiness of thought and a flowing fancy." And in the Preface to the Fables he says of Homer: "This vehemence of his, I confess, is more suitable to my temper." He makes other allusions to it. [17] Preface to the Fables. [18] _Wool_ is Sylvester's word. Dryden reminds us of Burke in this also, that he always quotes from memory and seldom exactly. His memory was better for things than for words. This helps to explain the length of time it took him to master that vocabulary at last so various, full, and seemingly extemporaneous. He is a large quoter, though, with his usual inconsistency, he says, "I am no admirer of quotations." (Essay on Heroic Plays.) [19] In the _Epimetheus_ of a poet usually as elegant as Gray himself, one's finer sense is a little jarred by the "Spectral gleam their snow-white _dresses_." [20] This probably suggested to Young the grandiose image in his "Last Day" (B. ii.):-- "Those overwhelming armies.... Whose rear lay wrapt in night, while breaking dawn Roused the broad front and called the battle on." This, to be sure, is no plagiarism; but it should be carried to Dryden's credit that we catch the poets of the next half-century oftener with their hands in his pockets than in those of any one else. [21] Essay on Satire. [22] Ibid. [23] Preface to Fables. Men are always inclined to revenge themselves on their old idols in the first enthusiasm of conversion to a purer faith. Cowley had all the faults that Dryden loads him with, and yet his popularity was to some extent deserved. He at least had a theory that poetry should soar, not creep, and longed for some expedient, in the failure of natural wings, by which he could lift himself away from the conventional and commonplace. By beating out the substance of Pindar very thin, he contrived a kind of balloon which, tumid with gas, did certainly mount a little, _into_ the clouds, if not above them, though sure to come suddenly down with a bump. His odes, indeed, are an alternation of upward jerks and concussions, and smack more of Chapelain than of the Theban, but his prose is very agreeable,--Montaigne and water, perhaps, but with some flavor of the Gascon wine left. The strophe of his ode to Dr. Scarborough, in which he compares his surgical friend, operating for the stone, to Moses striking the rock, more than justifies all the ill that Dryden could lay at his door. It was into precisely such mud-holes that Cowley's Will-o'-the-Wisp had misguided him. Men may never wholly shake off a vice but they are always conscious of it, and hate the tempter. [24] Dedication of Georgics. [25] In a letter to Dennis, 1693. [26] Preface to Fables. [27] More than half a century later, Orrery, in his "Remarks" on Swift, says: "We speak and we write at random; and if a man's common conversation were committed to paper, he would be startled _for_ _to_ find himself guilty in _so few_ sentences of so many solecisms and such false English." I do not remember _for to_ anywhere in Dryden's prose. _So few_ has long been denizened; no wonder, since it is nothing more than _si peu_ Anglicized. [28] Letter to the Lord High Treasurer. [29] Ibid. He complains of "manglings and abbreviations." "What does your Lordship think of the words drudg'd, disturb'd, rebuk'd, fledg'd, and a thousand others?" In a contribution to the "Tatler" (No. 230) he ridicules the use of _'um_ for _them_, and a number of slang Footnote: phrases, among which is _mob_. "The war," he says, "has introduced abundance of polysyllables, which will never be able to live many more campaigns." _Speculations, operations, preliminaries, ambassadors, pallisadoes, communication, circumvallation, battalions_, are the instances he gives, and all are now familiar. No man, or body of men, can dam the stream of language. Dryden is rather fond of _'em_ for _them_, but uses it rarely in his prose. Swift himself prefers _'tis_ to _it is_, as does Emerson still. In what Swift says of the poets, he may be fairly suspected of glancing at Dryden, who was his kinsman, and whose prefaces and translation of Virgil he ridicules in the "Tale of a Tub." Dryden is reported to have said of him, "Cousin Swift is no poet." The Dean began his literary career by Pindaric odes to Athenian Societies and the like,--perhaps the greatest mistake as to his own powers of which an author was ever guilty. It was very likely that he would send these to his relative, already distinguished, for his opinion upon them. If this was so, the justice of Dryden's judgment must have added to the smart. Swift never forgot or forgave: Dryden was careless enough to do the one, and large enough to do the other. [30] Both Malone and Scott accept this gentleman's evidence without question, but I confess suspicion of a memory that runs back more than eighty-one years, and recollects a man before he had any claim to remembrance. Dryden was never poor, and there is at Oxford a portrait of him painted in 1664, which represents him in a superb periwig and laced band. This was "before he had paid his court with success to the great." But the story is at least _ben trovato_, and morally true enough to serve as an illustration. Who the "old gentleman" was has never been discovered. Of Crowne (who has some interest for us as a sometime student at Harvard) he says: "Many a cup of metheglm have I drank with little starch'd Johnny Crown; we called him so, from the stiff, unalterable primness of his long cravat." Crowne reflects no more credit on his Alma Mater than Downing. Both were sneaks, and of such a kind as, I think, can only be produced by a debauched Puritanism. Crowne, as a rival of Dryden, is contemptuously alluded to by Cibber in his "Apology." [31] Diary, III. 390. Almost the only notices of Dryden that make him alive to me I have found in the delicious book of this Polonius-Montaigne, the only man who ever had the courage to keep a sincere journal, even under the shelter of cipher. [32] Tale of a Tub, Sect. V. Pepys also speaks of buying the "Maiden Queen" of Mr. Dryden's, which he himself, in his preface, seems to brag of, and indeed is a good play.--18th January, 1668. [33] He is fond of this image. In the "Maiden Queen" Celadon tells Sabina that, when he is with her rival Florimel, his heart is still her prisoner, "it only draws a longer chain after it." Goldsmith's fancy was taken by it; and everybody admires in the "Traveller" the extraordinary conceit of a heart dragging a lengthening chain. The smoothness of too many rhymed pentameters is that of thin ice over shallow water; so long as we glide along rapidly, all is well; but if we dwell a moment on any one spot, we may find ourselves knee-deep in mud. A later poet, in trying to improve on Goldsmith, shows the ludicrousness of the image:-- "And round my heart's leg ties its galling chain." To write imaginatively a man should have--imagination! [34] See his epistle dedicatory to the "Rival Ladies" (1664). For the other side, see particularly a passage in his "Discourse on Epic Poetry" (1697). [35] In the same way he had two years before assumed that Shakespeare "was the first who, to shun the pains of continued rhyming, invented that kind of writing which we call blank verse!" Dryden was never, I suspect, a very careful student of English literature. He seems never to have known that Surrey translated a part of the "Aeneid" (and with great spirit) into blank verse. Indeed, he was not a scholar, in the proper sense of the word, but he had that faculty of rapid assimilation without study, so remarkable in Coleridge and other rich minds, whose office is rather to impregnate than to invent. These brokers of thought perform a great office in literature, second only to that of originators. [36] Essay on Satire. What he has said just before this about Butler is worth noting. Butler had had a chief hand in the "Rehearsal," but Dryden had no grudges where the question was of giving its just praise to merit. [37] The conclusion of the second canto of Book Third is the best continuously fine passage. Dryden's poem has nowhere so much meaning in so small space as Davenant, when he says of the sense of honor that, "Like Power, it grows to nothing, growing less." Davenant took the hint of the stanza from Sir John Davies. Wyatt first used it, so far as I know, in English. [38] Perhaps there is no better lecture on the prevailing vices of style and thought (if thought this frothy ferment of the mind may be called) than in Cotton Mather's "Magnalia." For Mather, like a true provincial, appropriates only the mannerism, and, as is usual in such cases, betrays all its weakness by the unconscious parody of exaggeration. [39] The Doctor was a capital judge of the substantial value of the goods he handled, but his judgment always seems that of the thumb and forefinger. For the shades, the disposition of colors, the beauty of the figures, he has as good as no sense whatever. The critical parts of his Life of Dryden seem to me the best of his writing in this kind. There is little to be gleaned after him. He had studied his author, which he seldom did, and his criticism is sympathetic, a thing still rarer with him. As illustrative of his own habits, his remarks on Dryden's reading are curious. [40] Perhaps the hint was given by a phrase of Corneille, _monarque en peinture_. Dryden seldom borrows, unless from Shakespeare, without improving, and he borrowed a great deal. Thus in "Don Sebastian" of suicide:-- "Brutus and Cato might discharge their souls, And give them furloughs for the other world; But we, like sentries, are obliged to stand In starless nights and wait the appointed hour." The thought is Cicero's, but how it is intensified by the "starless nights"! Dryden, I suspect, got it from his favorite, Montaigne, who says, "Que nous ne pouvons abandonner cette garnison du monde, sans le commandement exprez de celuy qui nous y a mis." (L. ii. chap. 3.) In the same play, by a very Drydenish verse, he gives new force to an old comparison:-- "And I should break through laws divine and human. And think 'em cobwebs spread for little man, _Which all the bulky herd of Nature breaks_." [41] Not his solemn historical droning under that title, but addressed "To the Cambrio-Britons on their harp." [42] "Les poëtes euxmêmes s'animent et s'échauffent par la lecture des autres poëtes. Messieurs de Malherbe, Corneille, &c., se disposoient au travail par la lecture des poëtes qui étoient de leur gout."--Vigneul, Marvilliana, I. 64, 65. [43] For example, Waller had said, "Others may use the ocean as their road, Only the English _make it their abode_; * * * * * We _tread on billows with a steady foot_"-- long before Campbell. Campbell helps himself to both thoughts, enlivens them into "Her march is o'er the mountain wave, Her home is on the deep," and they are his forevermore. His "leviathans afloat" he _lifted_ from the "Annus Mirabilis"; but in what court could Dryden sue? Again, Waller in another poem calls the Duke of York's flag "His dreadful streamer, like a comet's hair"; and this, I believe, is the first application of the celestial portent to this particular comparison. Yet Milton's "imperial ensign" waves defiant behind his impregnable lines, and even Campbell flaunts his "meteor flag" in Waller's face. Gray's bard might be sent to the lock-up, but even he would find bail. "C'est imiter quelqu'un que de planter des choux." [44] Corneille's tragedy of "Pertharite" was acted unsuccessfully in 1659. Racine made free use of it in his more fortunate "Andromaque." [45] Dryden's publisher. [46] Preface to the Fables. [47] I interpret some otherwise ambiguous passages in this charming and acute essay by its title: "On the _artificial_ comedy of the last century." [48] See especially his defence of the epilogue to the Second Part of the "Conquest of Granada" (1672). [49] Defence of an Essay on Dramatick Poesy. [50] "The favor which heroick plays have lately found upon our theatres has been wholly derived to them from the countenance and approbation they have received at Court." (Dedication of "Indian Emperor" to Duchess of Monmouth.) [51] Dedication of "Rival Ladies." [52] Defence of the Essay. Dryden, in the happiness of his illustrative comparisons, is almost unmatched. Like himself, they occupy a middle ground between poetry and prose,--they are a cross between metaphor and simile. [53] Discoveries. [54] What a wretched rhymer he could be we may see in his _alteration_ of the "Maid's Tragedy" of Beaumont and Fletcher:-- "Not long since walking in the field, My nurse and I, we there beheld A goodly fruit; which, tempting me, I would have plucked: but, trembling, she, Whoever eat those berries, cried, In less than half an hour died!" What intolerable seesaw! Not much of Byron's "fatal facility" in _these_ octosyllabics! [55] In more senses than one. His last and best portrait shows him in his own gray hair. [56] Essay on Dramatick Poesy. [57] A French hendecasyllable verse runs exactly like our ballad measure:-- A cobbler there was and he lived in a stall, ... _La raison, pour marcher, n'a souvent qu'une voye._ (Dryden's note.) The verse is not a hendecasyllable. "Attended watchfully to her recitative (Mile. Duchesnois), and find that, in nine lines out of ten, 'A cobbler there was,' &c, is the tune of the French heroics."--_Moore's Diary_, 24th April, 1821. [58] "The language of the age is never the language of poetry, except among the French, whose verse, where the thought or image does not support it, differs in nothing from prose."--Gray to West. [59] Diderot and Rousseau, however, thought their language unfit for poetry, and Voltaire seems to have half agreed with them. No one has expressed this feeling more neatly than Fauriel: "Nul doute que l'on ne puisse dire en prose des choses éminemment poétiques, tout comme il n'est que trop certain que l'on peut en dire de fort prosaiques en vers, et même en excellents vers, en vers élégamment tournés, et en beau langage. C'est un fait dont je n'ai pas besoin d'indiquer d'exemples: aucune littérature n'en fournirait autant que le nôtre."--Hist. de la Poésie Provençale, II. 237. [60] Parallel of Poetry and Painting. [61] "Il y a seulement la scène de _Ventidius_ et d'_Antoine_ qui est digne de Corneille. C'est là le sentiment de milord Bolingbroke et de tous les bons auteurs; c'est ainsi que pensait Addisson."--Voltaire to M. De Fromont, 15th November, 1735. [62] Inst. X., i. 129. [63] Conquest of Grenada, Second Part. [64] In most he mingles blank verse. [65] Conquest of Grenada. [66] This recalls a striking verse of Alfred de Musset:-- "La muse est toujours belle. Même pour l'insensé, même pour l'impuissant, _Car sa beaute pour nous, c'est notre amour pour elle._" [67] Rival Ladies. [68] Don Sebastian. [69] Don Sebastian. [70] Cleomenes. [71] All for Love. [72] Dryden, with his wonted perspicacity, follows Ben Jonson in calling Donne "the greatest wit, though not the best poet, of our nation." (Dedication of Eleonora.) Even as a poet Donne "Had in him those brave translunary things That our first poets had." To open vistas for the imagination through the blind wall of the senses as he could sometimes do, is the supreme function of poetry. [73] My own judgment is my sole warrant for attributing these extracts from Oedipus to Dryden rather than Lee. [74] Recollections of Rogers, p. 165. [75] Nicholls's Reminiscences of Gray. Pickering's edition of Gray's Works, Vol. V. p. 35. [76] Let one suffice for all. In the "Royal Martyr," Porphyrius. awaiting his execution, says to Maximin, who had wished him for a son-in-law:-- "Where'er thou stand'st, I'll level at that place My gushing blood, and spout it at thy face; Thus not by marriage we our blood will join; Nay, more, my arms shall throw my head at thine." "It is no shame," says Dryden himself, "to be a poet, though it is to be a bad one." [77] Gray, _ubi supra_, p. 38. [78] Scott had never seen Pepys's Diary when he wrote this, or he would have left it unwritten: "Fell to discourse of the last night's work at Court, where the ladies and Duke of Monmouth acted the 'Indian Emperor,' wherein they told me these things most remarkable that not any woman but the Duchess of Monmouth and Mrs. Cornwallis did anything but like fools and stocks, but that these two did do most extraordinary well: that not any man did anything well but Captain O'Bryan, who spoke and did well, but above all things did dance most incomparably."--14th January, 1668. [79] See also that noble passage in the "Hind and Panther" (1572-1591), where this is put into verse. Dryden always thought in prose. [80] Probably on the authority of this very epitaph, as if epitaphs were to be believed even under oath! A great many authors live because we read nothing but their tombstones. Oldham was, to borrow one of Dryden's phrases, "a bad or, which is worse, an indifferent poet." [81] "He was of a nature exceedingly humane and compassionate easily forgiving injuries, and capable of a prompt and sincere reconciliation with them that had offended him."--Congress. [82] Coleridge says excellently: "You will find this a good gauge or criterion of genius,--whether it progresses and evolves, or only spins upon itself. Take Dryden's Achitophel and Zimri; every line adds to or modifies the character, which is, as it were, a-building up to the very last verse; whereas in Pope's Timon, &c. the first two or three couplets contain all the pith of the character, and the twenty or thirty lines that follow are so much evidence or proof of overt acts of jealousy, or pride, or whatever it may be that is satirized." (Table-Talk, 192.) Some of Dryden's best satirical hits are let fall by seeming accident in his prose, as where he says of his Protestant assailants, "Most of them love all whores but her of Babylon." They had first attacked him on the score of his private morals. [83] That he taxes Shadwell with it is only a seeming exception, as any careful reader will see. [84] Preface to Fables. [85] Dedication of the Georgics. [86] Preface to Second Miscellany. [87] Ibid. [88] Memoirs of Wordsworth, Vol. II. p. 74 (American edition). [89] A Discourse of Epick Poetry "If the _public_ approve." "On ne peut pas admettre dans le developpement des langues aucune révolution artificielle et sciemment executée; il n'y a pour elles ni conciles, ni assemblées délibérantes; on ne les réforme pas comme une constitution vicieuse."--Renan, De l'Origine du Langage, p 95. [90] This is an old complaint. Puttenham sighs over such innovation in Elizabeth's time, and Carew in James's. A language grows, and is not made. Almost all the new-fangled words with which Jonson taxes Marston in his "Poetaster" are now current. [91] Like most idiomatic, as distinguished from correct writers, he knew very little about the language historically or critically. His prose and poetry swarm with locutions that would have made Lindley Murray's hair stand on end. _How_ little he knew is plain from his criticising in Ben Jonson the use of _ones_ in the plural, of "Though Heaven should speak with all _his_ wrath," and be "as false English for _are_, though the rhyme hides it." Yet all are good English, and I have found them all in Dryden's own writing! Of his sins against idiom I have a longer list than I have room for. And yet he is one of our highest authorities for _real_ English. [92] To see what he rescued us from in pedantry on the one hand, and vulgarism on the other, read Feltham and Tom Brown--if you can. [93] "Cette ode mise en musique par Purcell (si je ne me trompe), passe en Angleterre pour le chef-d'oeuvre de la poésie la plus sublime et la plus variée; et je vous avoue que, comme je sais mieux l'anglais que le grec, j'aime cent fois mieux cette ode que tout Pindare."--Voltaire to M. De Chabanon, 9 mars, 1772. Dryden would have agreed with Voltaire. When Chief-Justice Marlay, then a young Templar, "congratulated him on having produced the finest and noblest Ode that had ever been written in any language, You are right, young gentleman' (replied Dryden), 'a nobler Ode never _was_ produced, nor ever _will_.'"--Malone. [94] This was true of Coleridge, Wordsworth, and still more of Southey who in some respects was not unlike Dryden. [95] Pope's notion of gentility was perhaps expressed in a letter from Lord Cobham to him: "I congratulate you upon the fine weather. 'T is a strange thing that people of condition and men of parts must enjoy it in common with the rest of the world." (Ruffhead's Pope, p 276, _note_.) His Lordship's naive distinction between people of condition and men of parts is as good as Pope's between genteel and poetical men. I fancy the poet grinning savagely as he read it. [96] "Nothing is truly sublime," he himself said, "that is not just and proper." [97] Dennis in a letter to Tonson, 1715. WITCHCRAFT.[98] Credulity, as a mental and moral phenomenon, manifests itself in widely different ways, according as it chances to be the daughter of fancy or terror. The one lies warm about the heart as Folk-lore, fills moonlit dells with dancing fairies, sets out a meal for the Brownie, hears the tinkle of airy bridle-bells as Tamlane rides away with the Queen of Dreams, changes Pluto and Proserpine into Oberon and Titania, and makes friends with unseen powers as Good Folk; the other is a bird of night, whose shadow sends a chill among the roots of the hair: it sucks with the vampire, gorges with the ghoule, is choked by the night-hag, pines away under the witch's charm, and commits uncleanness with the embodied Principle of Evil, giving up the fair realm of innocent belief to a murky throng from the slums and stews of the debauched brain. Both have vanished from among educated men, and such superstition as comes to the surface now-a-days is the harmless Jacobitism of sentiment, pleasing itself with the fiction all the more because there is no exacting reality behind it to impose a duty or demand a sacrifice. And as Jacobitism survived the Stuarts, so this has outlived the dynasty to which it professes an after-dinner allegiance. It nails a horseshoe over the door, but keeps a rattle by its bedside to summon a more substantial watchman; it hangs a crape on the beehives to get a taste of ideal sweetness, but obeys the teaching of the latest bee-book for material and marketable honey. This is the aesthetic variety of the malady, or rather, perhaps, it is only the old complaint robbed of all its pain, and lapped in waking dreams by the narcotism of an age of science. To the world at large it is not undelightful to see the poetical instincts of friends and neighbors finding some other vent than that of verse. But there has been a superstition of very different fibre, of more intense and practical validity, the deformed child of faith, peopling the midnight of the mind with fearful shapes and phrenetic suggestions, a monstrous brood of its own begetting, and making even good men ferocious in imagined self-defence. Imagination, has always been, and still is, in a narrower sense, the great mythologizer; but both its mode of manifestation and the force with which it reacts on the mind are one thing in its crude form of childlike wonder, and another thing after it has been more or less consciously manipulated by the poetic faculty. A mythology that broods over us in our cradles, that mingles with the lullaby of the nurse and the winter-evening legends of the chimney-corner, that brightens day with the possibility of divine encounters, and darkens night with intimations of demonic ambushes, is of other substance than one which we take down from our bookcase, sapless as the shelf it stood on, and remote from all present sympathy with man or nature as a town history. It is something like the difference between live metaphor and dead personification. Primarily, the action of the imagination is the same in the mythologizer and the poet, that is, it forces its own consciousness on the objects of the senses, and compels them to sympathize with its own momentary impressions. When Shakespeare in his "Lucrece" makes "The threshold grate the door to have him heard," his mind is acting under the same impulse that first endowed with human feeling and then with human shape all the invisible forces of nature, and called into being those "Fair humanities of old religion," whose loss the poets mourn. So also Shakespeare no doubt projected himself in his own creations; but those creations never became so perfectly disengaged from him, so objective, or, as they used to say, extrinsical, to him, as to react upon him like real and even alien existences. I mean permanently, for momentarily they may and must have done so. But before man's consciousness had wholly disentangled itself from outward objects, all nature was but a many-sided mirror which gave back to him a thousand images more or less beautified or distorted, magnified or diminished, of himself, till his imagination grew to look upon its own incorporations as having an independent being. Thus, by degrees, it became at last passive to its own creations. You may see imaginative children every day anthropomorphizing in this way, and the dupes of that super-abundant vitality in themselves, which bestows qualities proper to itself on everything about them. There is a period of development in which grown men are childlike. In such a period the fables which endow beasts with human attributes first grew up; and we luckily read them so early as never to become suspicious of any absurdity in them. The Finnic epos of "Kalewala" is a curious illustration of the same fact. In that every thing has the affections, passions, and consciousness of men. When the mother of Lemminkäinen is seeking her lost son,-- "Sought she many days the lost one, Sought him ever without finding; Then the roadways come to meet her, And she asks them with beseeching: 'Roadways, ye whom God hath shapen, Have ye not my son beholden, Nowhere seen the golden apple, Him, my darling staff of silver?' Prudently they gave her answer, Thus to her replied the roadways: 'For thy son we cannot plague us, We have sorrows too, a many, Since our own lot is a hard one And our fortune is but evil, By dog's feet to be run over, By the wheel-tire to be wounded, And by heavy heels down-trampled.'" It is in this tendency of the mind under certain conditions to confound the objective with subjective, or rather to mistake the one for the other, that Mr. Tylor, in his "Early History of Mankind," is fain to seek the origin of the supernatural, as we somewhat vaguely call whatever transcends our ordinary experience. And this, no doubt, will in many cases account for the particular shapes assumed by certain phantasmal appearances, though I am inclined to doubt whether it be a sufficient explanation of the abstract phenomenon. It is easy for the arithmetician to make a key to the problems that he has devised to suit himself. An immediate and habitual confusion of the kind spoken of is insanity; and the hypochondriac is tracked by the black dog of his own mind. Disease itself is, of course, in one sense natural, as being the result of natural causes; but if we assume health as the mean representing the normal poise of all the mental facilities, we must be content to call hypochondria subternatural, because the tone of the instrument is lowered, and to designate as supernatural only those ecstasies in which the mind, under intense but not unhealthy excitement, is snatched sometimes above itself, as in poets and other persons of imaginative temperament. In poets this liability to be possessed by the creations of their own brains is limited and proportioned by the artistic sense, and the imagination thus truly becomes the shaping faculty, while in less regulated or coarser organizations it dwells forever in the _Nifelheim_ of phantasmagoria and dream, a thaumaturge half cheat, half dupe. What Mr. Tylor has to say on this matter is ingenious and full of valuable suggestion, and to a certain extent solves our difficulties. Nightmare, for example, will explain the testimony of witnesses in trials for witchcraft, that they had been hag-ridden by the accused. But to prove the possibility, nay, the probability, of this confusion of objective with subjective is not enough. It accounts very well for such apparitions as those which appeared to Dion, to Brutus, and to Curtius Rufus. In such cases the imagination is undoubtedly its own _doppel-gänger_, and sees nothing more than the projection of its own deceit. But I am puzzled, I confess, to explain the appearance of the _first_ ghost, especially among men who thought death to be the end-all here below. The thing once conceived of, it is easy, on Mr. Tylor's theory, to account for all after the first. If it was originally believed that only the spirits of those who had died violent deaths were permitted to wander,[99] the conscience of a remorseful murderer may have been haunted by the memory of his victim, till the imagination, infected in its turn, gave outward reality to the image on the inward eye. After putting to death Boëtius and Symmachus, it is said that Theodoric saw in the head of a fish served at his dinner the face of Symmachus, grinning horribly and with flaming eyes, whereupon he took to his bed and died soon after in great agony of mind. It is not safe, perhaps, to believe all that is reported of an Arian; but supposing the story to be true, there is only a short step from such a delusion of the senses to the complete ghost of popular legend. But, in some of the most trustworthy stories of apparitions, they have shown themselves not only to persons who had done them no wrong in the flesh, but also to such as had never even known them. The _eidolon_ of James Haddock appeared to a man named Taverner, that he might interest himself in recovering a piece of land unjustly kept from the dead man's infant son. If we may trust Defoe, Bishop Jeremy Taylor twice examined Taverner, and was convinced of the truth of his story. In this case, Taverner had formerly known Haddock. But the apparition of an old gentleman which entered the learned Dr. Scott's study, and directed him where to find a missing deed needful in settling what had lately been its estate in the West of England, chose for its attorney in the business an entire stranger, who had never even seen its original in the flesh. Whatever its origin, a belief in spirits seems to have been common to all the nations of the ancient world who have left us any record of themselves. Ghosts began to walk early, and are walking still, in spite of the shrill cock-crow of _wir haben ja aufgeklärt._ Even the ghost in chains, which one would naturally take to be a fashion peculiar to convicts escaped from purgatory, is older than the belief in that reforming penitentiary. The younger Pliny tells a very good story to this effect: "There was at Athens a large and spacious house which lay under the disrepute of being haunted. In the dead of the night a noise resembling the clashing of iron was frequently heared, which, if you listened more attentively, sounded like the rattling of chains; at first it seemed at a distance, but approached nearer by degrees; immediately afterward a spectre appeared, in the form of an old man, extremely meagre and ghastly, with a long beard and dishevelled hair, rattling the chains on his feet and hands.... By this means the house was at last deserted, being judged by everybody to be absolutely uninhabitable; so that it was now entirely abandoned to the ghost. However, in hopes that some tenant might be found who was ignorant of this great calamity which attended it, a bill was put up giving notice that it was either to be let or sold. It happened that the philosopher Athenodorus came to Athens at this time, and, reading the bill, inquired the price. The extraordinary cheapness raised his suspicion; nevertheless, when he heared the whole story, he was so far from being discouraged that he was more strongly inclined to hire it, and, in short, actually did so. When it grew towards evening, he ordered a couch to be prepared for him in the fore part of the house, and, after calling for a light, together with his pen and tablets, he directed all his people to retire. But that his mind might not, for want of employment, be open to the vain terrors of imaginary noises and spirits, he applied himself to writing with the utmost attention. The first part of the night passed with usual silence, when at length the chains began to rattle; however, he neither lifted up his eyes nor laid down his pen, but diverted his observation by pursuing his studies with greater earnestness. The noise increased, and advanced nearer, till it seemed at the door, and at last in the chamber. He looked up and saw the ghost exactly in the manner it had been described to him; it stood before him, beckoning with the finger. Athenodorus made a sign with his hand that it should wait a little, and threw his eyes again upon his papers; but the ghost still rattling his chains in his ears, he looked up and saw him beckoning as before. Upon this he immediately arose, and with the light in his hand followed it. The ghost slowly stalked along, as if encumbered with his chains, and, turning into the area of the house, suddenly vanished. Athenodorus, being thus deserted, made a mark with some grass and leaves where the spirit left him. The next day he gave information of this to the magistrates, and advised them to order that spot to be dug up. This was accordingly done, and the skeleton of a man in chains was there found; for the body, having lain a considerable time in the ground, was putrefied and mouldered away from the fetters. The bones, being collected together, were publicly buried, and thus, after the ghost was appeased by the proper ceremonies, the house was haunted no more."[100] This story has such a modern air as to be absolutely disheartening. Are ghosts, then, as incapable of invention as dramatic authors? But the demeanor of Athenodorus has the grand air of the classical period, of one _qui connaît son monde_, and feels the superiority of a living philosopher to a dead Philistine. How far above all modern armament is his prophylactic against his insubstantial fellow-lodger! Now-a-days men take pistols into haunted houses. Sterne, and after him Novalis, discovered that gunpowder made all men equally tall, but Athenodorus had found out that pen and ink establish a superiority in spiritual stature. As men of this world, we feel our dignity exalted by his keeping an ambassador from the other waiting till he had finished his paragraph. Never surely did authorship appear to greater advantage. Athenodorus seems to have been of Hamlet's mind: "I do not set my life at a pin's fee, And, for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal, as itself?"[101] A superstition, as its name imports, is something that has been left to stand over, like unfinished business, from one session of the world's _witenagemot_ to the next. The vulgar receive it implicitly on the principle of _omne ignotum pro possibili_, a theory acted on by a much larger number than is commonly supposed, and even the enlightened are too apt to consider it, if not proved, at least rendered probable by the hearsay evidence of popular experience. Particular superstitions are sometimes the embodiment by popular imagination of ideas that were at first mere poetic figments, but more commonly the degraded and distorted relics of religious beliefs. Dethroned gods, outlawed by the new dynasty, haunted the borders of their old dominions, lurking in forests and mountains, and venturing to show themselves only after nightfall. Grimm and others have detected old divinities skulking about in strange disguises, and living from hand to mouth on the charity of Gammer Grethel and Mère l'Oie. Cast out from Olympus and Asgard, they were thankful for the hospitality of the chimney-corner, and kept soul and body together by an illicit traffic between this world and the other. While Schiller was lamenting the Gods of Greece, some of them were nearer neighbors to him than he dreamed; and Heine had the wit to turn them to delightful account, showing himself, perhaps, the wiser of the two in saving what he could from the shipwreck of the past for present use on this prosaic Juan Fernandez of a scientific age, instead of sitting down to bewail it. To make the pagan divinities hateful, they were stigmatized as cacodaemons; and as the human mind finds a pleasure in analogy and system, an infernal hierarchy gradually shaped itself as the convenient antipodes and counterpoise of the celestial one. Perhaps at the bottom of it all there was a kind of unconscious manicheism, and Satan, as Prince of Darkness, or of the Powers of the Air, became at last a sovereign, with his great feudatories and countless vassals, capable of maintaining a not unequal contest with the King of Heaven. He was supposed to have a certain power of bestowing earthly prosperity, but he was really, after all, nothing better than a James II. at St. Germains, who could make Dukes of Perth and confer titular fiefs and garters as much as he liked, without the unpleasant necessity of providing any substance behind the shadow. That there should have been so much loyalty to him, under these disheartening circumstances, seems to me, on the whole, creditable to poor human nature. In this case it is due, at least in part, to that instinct of the poor among the races of the North, where there was a long winter, and too often a scanty harvest,--and the poor have been always and everywhere a majority,--which made a deity of Wish. The _Acheronta-movebo_ impulse must have been pardonably strong in old women starving with cold and hunger, and fathers with large families and a small winter stock of provision. Especially in the transition period from the old religion to the new, the temptation must have been great to try one's luck with the discrowned dynasty, when the intruder was deaf and blind to claims that seemed just enough, so long as it was still believed that God personally interfered in the affairs of men. On his death-bed, says Piers Plowman, "The poore dare plede and prove by reson To have allowance of his lord; by the law he it claimeth; * * * * * Thanne may beggaris as beestes after boote waiten That al hir lif han lyved in langour and in defaute But God sente hem som tyme som manere joye, Outher here or ellis where, kynde wolde it nevere." He utters the common feeling when he says that it were against nature. But when a man has his choice between here and elsewhere, it may be feared that the other world will seem too desperately far away to be waited for when hungry ruin has him in the wind, and the chance on earth is so temptingly near. Hence the notion of a transfer of allegiance from God to Satan, sometimes by a written compact, sometimes with the ceremony by which homage is done to a feudal superior. Most of the practices of witchcraft--such as the power to raise storms, to destroy cattle, to assume the shape of beasts by the use of certain ointments, to induce deadly maladies in men by waxen images, or love by means of charms and philtres--were inheritances from ancient paganism. But the theory of a compact was the product of later times, the result, no doubt, of the efforts of the clergy to inspire a horror of any lapse into heathenish rites by making devils of all the old gods. Christianity may be said to have invented the soul as an individual entity to be saved or lost; and thus grosser wits were led to conceive of it as a piece of property that could be transferred by deed of gift or sale, duly signed, sealed, and witnessed. The earliest legend of the kind is that of Theophilus, chancellor of the church of Adana in Cilicia some time during the sixth century. It is said to have been first written by Eutychianus, who had been a pupil of Theophilus, and who tells the story partly as an eyewitness, partly from the narration of his master. The nun Hroswitha first treated it dramatically in the latter half of the tenth century. Some four hundred years later Rutebeuf made it the theme of a French miracle-play. His treatment of it is not without a certain poetic merit. Theophilus has been deprived by his bishop of a lucrative office. In his despair he meets with Saladin, _qui parloit au deable quant il voloit_. Saladin tempts him to deny God and devote himself to the Devil, who, in return, will give him back all his old prosperity and more. He at last consents, signs and seals the contract required, and is restored to his old place by the bishop. But now remorse and terror come upon him; he calls on the Virgin, who, after some demur, compels Satan to bring back his deed from the infernal muniment-chest (which must have been fire-proof beyond any skill of our modern safe-makers), and the bishop having read it aloud to the awe-stricken congregation, Theophilus becomes his own man again. In this play, the theory of devilish compact is already complete in all its particulars. The paper must be signed with the blood of the grantor, who does feudal homage (_or joing tes mains, et si devien mes hom_), and engages to eschew good and do evil all the days of his life. The Devil, however, does not imprint any stigma upon his new vassal, as in the later stories of witch-compacts. The following passage from the opening speech of Theophilus will illustrate the conception to which I have alluded of God as a liege lord against whom one might seek revenge on sufficient provocation,--and the only revenge possible was to rob him of a subject by going over to the great Suzerain, his deadly foe:-- "N'est riens que por avoir ne face; Ne pris riens Dieu et sa manace. Irai me je noier ou pendre? Ie ne m'en puis pas à Dieu prendre, C'on ne puet à lui avenir. * * * * * Mès il s'est en si haut lieu mis, Por eschiver ses anemis C'on n'i puet trere ni lancier. Se or pooie à lui tancier, Et combattre et escrimir, La char li feroie fremir. Or est là sus en son solaz, Laz! chetis! et je sui ès laz De Povreté et de Soufrete."[102] During the Middle Ages the story became a favorite topic with preachers, while carvings and painted windows tended still further to popularize it, and to render men's minds familiar with the idea which makes the nexus of its plot. The plastic hands of Calderon shaped it into a dramatic poem not surpassed, perhaps hardly equalled, in subtile imaginative quality by any other of modern times. In proportion as a belief in the possibility of this damnable merchandising with hell became general, accusations of it grew more numerous. Among others, the memory of Pope Sylvester II, was blackened with the charge of having thus bargained away his soul. All learning fell under suspicion, till at length the very grammar itself (the last volume in the world, one would say, to conjure with) gave to English the word _gramary_ (enchantment), and in French became a book of magic, under the alias of _Grimoire_. It is not at all unlikely that, in an age when the boundary between actual and possible was not very well defined, there were scholars who made experiments in this direction, and signed contracts, though they never had a chance to complete their bargain by an actual delivery. I do not recall any case of witchcraft in which such a document was produced in court as evidence against the accused. Such a one, it is true, was ascribed to Grandier, but was not brought forward at his trial. It should seem that Grandier had been shrewd enough to take a bond to secure the fulfilment of the contract on the other side; for we have the document in fac-simile, signed and sealed by Lucifer, Beelzebub, Satan, Elimi, Leviathan, and Astaroth, duly witnessed by Baalberith, Secretary of the Grand Council of Demons. Fancy the competition such a state paper as this would arouse at a sale of autographs! Commonly no security appears to have been given by the other party to these arrangements but the bare word of the Devil, which was considered, no doubt, every whit as good as his bond. In most cases, indeed, he was the loser, and showed a want of capacity for affairs equal to that of an average giant of romance. Never was comedy acted over and over with such sameness of repetition as "The Devil is an Ass." How often must he have exclaimed (laughing in his sleeve):-- "_I_ to such blockheads set my wit, _I_ damn such fools!--go, go, you're bit!" In popular legend he is made the victim of some equivocation so gross that any court of equity would have ruled in his favor. On the other hand, if the story had been dressed up by some mediaeval Tract Society, the Virgin appears in person at the right moment _ex machina_, and compels him to give up the property he had honestly paid for. One is tempted to ask, Were there no attorneys, then, in the place he came from, of whom he might have taken advice beforehand? On the whole, he had rather hard measure, and it is a wonder he did not throw up the business in disgust. Sometimes, however, he was more lucky, as with the unhappy Dr. Faust; and even so lately as 1695, he came in the shape of a "tall fellow with black beard and periwig, respectable looking and well dressed," about two o'clock in the afternoon, to fly away with the Maréchal de Luxembourg, which, on the stroke of five, he punctually did as per contract, taking with him the window and its stone framing into the bargain. The clothes and wig of the involuntary aeronaut were, in the handsomest manner, left upon the bed, as not included in the bill of sale. In this case also we have a copy of the articles of agreement, twenty-eight in number, by the last of which the Maréchal renounces God and devotes himself to the enemy. This clause, sometimes the only one, always the most important in such compacts, seems to show that they first took shape in the imagination, while the struggle between Paganism and Christianity was still going on. As the converted heathen was made to renounce his false gods, none the less real for being false, so the renegade Christian must forswear the true Deity. It is very likely, however, that the whole thing may be more modern than the assumed date of Theophilus would imply, and if so, the idea of feudal allegiance gave the first hint, as it certainly modified the particulars, of the ceremonial. This notion of a personal and private treaty with the Evil One has something of dignity about it that has made it perennially attractive to the most imaginative minds. It rather flatters than mocks our feeling of the dignity of man. As we come down to the vulgar parody of it in the confessions of wretched old women on the rack, our pity and indignation are mingled with disgust. One of the most particular of these confessions is that of Abel de la Rue, convicted in 1584. The accused was a novice in the Franciscan Convent at Meaux. Having been punished by the master of the novices for stealing some apples and nuts in the convent garden, the Devil appeared to him in the shape of a black dog, promising him his protection, and advising him to leave the convent. Not long after going into the sacristy, he saw a large volume fastened by a chain, and further secured by bars of iron. The name of this book was _Grimoire_. Thrusting his hands through the bars, he contrived to open it, and having read a sentence (which Bodin carefully suppresses), there suddenly appeared to him a man of middle stature, with a pale and very frightful countenance, clad in a long black robe of the Italian fashion, and with faces of men like his own on his breast and knees. As for his feet they were like those of cows. He could not have been the most agreeable of companions, _ayant le corps et haleine puante_. This man told him not to be afraid, to take off his habit, to put faith in him, and he would give him whatever he asked. Then laying hold of him below the arms, the unknown transported him under the gallows of Meaux, and then said to him with a trembling and broken voice, and having a visage as pale as that of a man who has been hanged, and a very stinking breath, that he should fear nothing, but have entire confidence in him, that he should never want for anything, that his own name was Maître Rigoux, and that he would like to be his master; to which De la Rue made answer that he would do whatever he commanded, and that he wished to be gone from the Franciscans. Thereupon Rigoux disappeared, but returning between seven and eight in the evening, took him round the waist and carried him back to the sacristy, promising to come again for him the next day. This he accordingly did, and told De la Rue to take off his habit, get him gone from the convent, and meet him near a great tree on the high-road from Meaux to Vaulx-Courtois. Rigoux met him there and took him to a certain Maître Pierre, who, after a few words exchanged in an undertone with Rigoux, sent De la Rue to the stable, after his return whence he saw no more of Rigoux. Thereupon Pierre and his wife made him good cheer, telling him that for the love of Maître Rigoux they would treat him well, and that he must obey the said Rigoux, which he promised to do. About two months after, Maître Pierre, who commonly took him to the fields to watch cattle, said to him there that they must go to the Assembly, because he (Pierre) was out of powders, to which he made answer that he was willing. Three days later, about Christmas eve, 1575, Pierre having sent his wife to sleep out of the house, set a long branch of broom in the chimney-corner, and bade De la Rue go to bed, but not to sleep. About eleven they heard a great noise as of an impetuous wind and thunder in the chimney: which hearing, Maître Pierre told him to dress himself, for it was time to be gone. Then Pierre took some grease from a little box and anointed himself under the arm-pits, and De la Rue on the palms of his hands, which incontinently felt as if on fire, and the said grease stank like a cat three weeks or a month dead. Then, Pierre and he bestriding the branch, Maître Rigoux took it by the butt and drew it up chimney as if the wind had lifted them. And, the night being dark, he saw suddenly a torch before them lighting them, and Maître Rigoux was gone unless he had changed himself into the said torch. Arrived at a grassy place some five leagues from Vaulx-Courtois, they found a company of some sixty people of all ages, none of whom he knew, except a certain Pierre of Dampmartin and an old woman who was executed, as he had heard, about five years ago for sorcery at Lagny. Then suddenly he noticed that all (except Rigoux, who was clad as before) were dressed in linen, though they had not changed their clothes. Then, at command of the eldest among them, who seemed about eighty years old, with a white beard and almost wholly bald, each swept the place in front of himself with his broom. Thereupon Rigoux changed into a great he-goat, black and stinking, around whom they all danced backward with their faces outward and their backs towards the goat. They danced about half an hour, and then his master told him they must adore the goat who was the Devil _et ce fait et dict, veit que ledict Bouc courba ses deux pieds de deuant et leua son cul en haut, et lors que certaines menues graines grosses comme testes d'espingles, qui se conuertissoient en poudres fort puantes, sentant le soulphre et poudre à canon et chair puant mesleés ensemble seroient tombeés sur plusieurs drappeaux en sept doubles._ Then the oldest, and so the rest in order, went forward on their knees and gathered up their cloths with the powders, but first each _se seroit incliné vers le Diable et iceluy baisé en la partie honteuse de son corps._ They went home on their broom, lighted as before. De la Rue confessed also that he was at another assembly on the eve of St. John Baptist. With the powders they could cause the death of men against whom they had a spite, or their cattle. Rigoux before long began to tempt him to drown himself, and, though he lay down, yet rolled him some distance towards the river. It is plain that the poor fellow was mad or half-witted or both. And yet Bodin, the author of the _De Republica,_ reckoned one of the ablest books of that age, believed all this filthy nonsense, and prefixes it to his _Démonomanie,_ as proof conclusive of the existence of sorcerers. This was in 1587. Just a century later, Glanvil, one of the most eminent men of his day, and Henry More, the Platonist, whose memory is still dear to the lovers of an imaginative mysticism, were perfectly satisfied with evidence like that which follows. Elizabeth Styles confessed, in 1664, "that the Devil about ten years since appeared to her in the shape of a handsome Man, and after of a black Dog. That he promised her Money, and that she should live gallantly, and have the pleasure of the World for twelve years, if she would with her Blood sign his Paper, which was to give her soul to him and observe his Laws and that he might suck her Blood. This after Four Solicitations, the Examinant promised him to do. Upon which he pricked the fourth Finger of her right hand, between the middle and upper Joynt (where the Sign at the Examination remained) and with a Drop or two of her Blood, she signed the Paper with an O. Upon this the Devil gave her sixpence and vanished with the Paper. That since he hath appeared to her in the Shape of a _Man_, and did so on _Wednesday_ seven-night past, but more usually he appears in the Likeness of a _Dog_, and _Cat_, and a _Fly_ like a Millar, in which last he usually sucks in the Poll about four of the Clock in the Morning, and did so _Jan_. 27, and that it is pain to her to be so suckt. That when she hath a desire to do harm she calls the Spirit by the name of _Robin_, to whom, when he appeareth, she useth these words, _O Sathan, give me my purpose_. She then tells him what she would have done. And that he should so appear to her was part of her Contract with him." The Devil in this case appeared as a black (dark-complexioned) man "in black clothes, with a little band,"--a very clerical-looking personage. "Before they are carried to their meetings they anoint their Foreheads and Hand-Wrists with an Oyl the Spirit brings them (which smells raw) and then they are carried in a very short time, using these words as they pass, _Thout, tout a tout, throughout and about_. And when they go off from their Meetings they say, _Rentum, Tormentum_. That at every meeting before the Spirit vanisheth away, he appoints the next meeting place and time, and at his departure there is a foul smell. At their meeting they have usually Wine or good Beer, Cakes, Meat or the like. They eat and drink really when they meet, in their Bodies, dance also and have some Musick. The Man in black sits at the higher end, and _Anne Bishop_ usually next him. He useth some words before meat, and none after; his Voice is audible but very low. The Man in black sometimes plays on a Pipe or Cittern, and the Company dance. At last the Devil vanisheth, and all are carried to their several homes in a short space. At their parting they say, _A Boy! merry meet, merry part!_" Alice Duke confessed "that Anne Bishop persuaded her to go with her into the Churchyard in the Night-time, and being come thither, to go backward round the Church, which they did three times. In their first round they met a Man in black Cloths who went round the second time with them; and then they met a thing in the Shape of a great black Toad which leapt up against the Examinant's Apron. In their third round they met somewhat in the shape of a Rat, which vanished away." She also received sixpence from the Devil, and "her Familiar did commonly suck her right Breast about seven at night in the shape of a little Cat of a dunnish Colour, which is as smooth as a Want [mole], and when she is suckt, she is in a kind of Trance." Poor Christian Green got only fourpence half-penny for her soul, but her bargain was made some years later than that of the others, and quotations, as the stock-brokers would say, ranged lower. Her familiar took the shape of a hedgehog. Julian Cox confessed that "she had been often tempted by the Devil to be a Witch, but never consented. That one Evening she walkt about a Mile from her own House and there came riding towards her three Persons upon three Broomstaves, born up about a yard and a half from the ground. Two of them she formerly knew, which was a Witch and a Wizzard that were hanged for Witchcraft several years before. The third person she knew not. He came in the shape of a black Man, and tempted her to give him her Soul, or to that effect, and to express it by pricking her Finger and giving her name in her Blood in token of it." On her trial Judge Archer told the jury, "he had heard that a Witch could not repeat that Petition in the Lord's Prayer, viz. _And lead us not into temptation_, and having this occasion, he would try the Experiment." The jury "were not in the least measure to guide their Verdict according to it, because it was not legal Evidence." Accordingly it was found that the poor old trot could say only, _Lead us into temptation, or Lead us not into no temptation_. Probably she used the latter form first, and, finding she had blundered, corrected herself by leaving out both the negatives. The old English double negation seems never to have been heard of by the court. Janet Douglass, a pretended dumb girl, by whose contrivance five persons had been burned at Paisley, in 1677, for having caused the sickness of Sir George Maxwell by means of waxen and other images, having recovered her speech shortly after, declared that she "had some smattering knowledge of the Lord's prayer, which she had heard the witches repeat, it seems, by her vision, in the presence of the Devil; and at his desire, which they observed, they added to the word _art_ the letter _w_, which made it run, 'Our Father which wart in heaven,' by which means the Devil made the application of the prayer to himself." She also showed on the arm of a woman named Campbell "an _invisible_ mark which she had gotten from the Devil." The wife of one Barton confessed that she had engaged "in the Devil's service. She renounced her baptism, and did prostrate her body to the foul spirit, and received his mark, and got a new name from him, and was called _Margaratus_. She was asked if she ever had any pleasure in his company? 'Never much,' says she, 'but one night going to a dancing upon Pentland Hills, in the likeness of a rough tanny [tawny] dog, playing on a pair of pipes; the spring he played,' says she, 'was _The silly bit chicken, gar cast it a pickle, and it will grow meikle._'"[103] In 1670, near seventy of both sexes, among them fifteen children, were executed for witchcraft at the village of Mohra in Sweden. Thirty-six children, between the ages of nine and sixteen, were sentenced to be scourged with rods on the palms of their hands, once a week for a year. The evidence in this case against the accused seems to have been mostly that of children. "Being asked whether they were sure that they were at any time carried away by the Devil, they all declared they were, begging of the Commissioners that they might be freed from that intolerable slavery." They "used to go to a Gravel pit which lay hardby a Cross-way and there they put on a vest over their heads, and then danced round, and after ran to the Cross-way and called the Devil thrice, first with a still Voice, the second time somewhat louder, and the third time very loud, with these words, _Antecessour, come and carry us to Blockula_. Whereupon immediately he used to appear, but in different Habits; but for the most part they saw him in a gray Coat and red and blue Stockings. He had a red Beard, a highcrowned Hat, with linnen of divers Colours wrapt about it, and long Garters upon his Stockings." "They must procure some Scrapings of Altars and Filings of Church-Clocks [bells], and he gives them a Horn with some Salve in it wherewith they do anoint themselves." "Being asked whether they were sure of a real personal Transportation, and whether they were awake when it was done, they all answered in the Affirmative, and that the Devil sometimes laid something down in the Place that was very like them. But one of them confessed that he did only take away her Strength, and her Body lay still upon the Ground. Yet sometimes he took even her Body with him." "Till of late they never had that power to carry away Children, but only this year and the last, and the Devil did at this time force them to it. That heretofore it was sufficient to carry but one of their Children or a Stranger's Child, which yet happened seldom, but now he did plague them and whip them if they did not procure him Children, insomuch that they had no peace or quiet for him; and whereas formerly one Journey a Week would serve their turn from their own town to the place aforesaid, now they were forced to run to other Towns and Places for Children, and that they brought with them some fifteen, some sixteen Children every night. For their journey they made use of all sorts of Instruments, of Beasts, of Men, of Spits, and Posts, according as they had opportunity. If they do ride upon Goats and have many Children with them," they have a way of lengthening the goat with a spit, "and then are anointed with the aforesaid Ointment. A little Girl of Elfdale confessed, That, naming the name of JESUS, as she was carried away, she fell suddenly upon the Ground and got a great hole in her Side, which the Devil presently healed up again. The first thing they must do at Blockula was that they must deny all and devote themselves Body and Soul to the Devil, and promise to serve him faithfully, and confirm all this with an Oath. Hereupon they cut their Fingers, and with their Bloud writ their Name in his Book. He caused them to be baptized by such Priests as he had there and made them confirm their Baptism with dreadful Oaths and Imprecations. Here-upon the Devil gave them a Purse, wherein their filings of Clocks [bells], with a Stone tied to it, which they threw into the Water, and then they were forced to speak these words: _As these filings of the Clock do never return to the Clock from which they are taken, so may my soul never return to Heaven_. The diet they did use to have there was Broth with Colworts and Bacon in it, Oatmeal-Bread spread with Butter, Milk, and Cheese. Sometimes it tasted very well, sometimes very ill. After Meals, they went to Dancing, and in the mean while Swore and Cursed most dreadfully, and afterward went to fighting one with another. The Devil had Sons and Daughters by them, which he did marry together, and they did couple and brought forth Toads and Serpents. If he hath a mind to be merry with them, he lets them all ride upon Spits before him, takes afterwards the Spits and beats them black and blue, and then laughs at them. They had seen sometimes a very great Devil like a Dragon, with fire about him and bound with an Iron Chain, and the Devil that converses with them tells them that, if they confess anything, he will let that great Devil loose upon them, whereby all _Sweedland_ shall come into great danger. The Devil taught them to milk, which was in this wise: they used to stick a knife in the Wall and hang a kind of Label on it, which they drew and stroaked, and as long as this lasted the Persons that they had Power over were miserably plagued, and the Beasts were milked that way till sometimes they died of it. The minister of Elfdale declared that one Night these Witches were to his thinking upon the crown of his Head and that from thence he had had a long-continued Pain of the Head. One of the Witches confessed, too, that the Devil had sent her to torment the Minister, and that she was ordered to use a Nail and strike it into his Head, but it would not enter very deep. They confessed also that the Devil gives them a Beast about the bigness and shape of a young Cat, which they call a _Carrier_, and that he gives them a Bird too as big as a Raven, but white. And these two Creatures they can send anywhere, and wherever they come they take away all sorts of Victuals they can get. What the Bird brings they may keep for themselves; but what the Carrier brings they must reserve for the Devil. The Lords Commissioners were indeed very earnest and took great Pains to persuade them to show some of their Tricks, but to no Purpose; for they did all unanimously confess, that, since they had confessed all, they found that all their Witchcraft was gone, and that the Devil at this time appeared to them very terrible with Claws on his Hands and Feet, and with Horns on his Head and a long Tail behind." At Blockula "the Devil had a Church, such another as in the town of Mohra. When the Commissioners were coming, he told the Witches they should not fear them, for he would certainly kill them all. And they confessed that some of them had attempted to murther the Commissioners, but had not been able to effect it." In these confessions we find included nearly all the particulars of the popular belief concerning witchcraft, and see the gradual degradation of the once superb Lucifer to the vulgar scarecrow with horns and tail. "The Prince of Darkness _was_ a gentleman." From him who had not lost all his original brightness, to this dirty fellow who leaves a stench, sometimes of brimstone, behind him, the descent is a long one. For the dispersion of this foul odor Dr. Henry More gives an odd reason. "The Devil also, as in other stories, leaving an ill smell behind him, seems to imply the reality of the business, those adscititious particles he held together in his visible vehicle being loosened at his vanishing and so offending the nostrils by their floating and diffusing themselves in the open Air." In all the stories vestiges of Paganism are not indistinct. The three principal witch gatherings of the year were held on the days of great pagan festivals, which were afterwards adopted by the Church. Maury supposes the witches' Sabbath to be derived from the rites of Bacchus Sabazius, and accounts in this way for the Devil's taking the shape of a he-goat. But the name was more likely to be given from hatred of the Jews, and the goat may have a much less remote origin. Bodin assumes the identity of the Devil with Pan, and in the popular mythology both of Kelts and Teutons there were certain hairy wood-demons called by the former _Dus_ and by the latter _Scrat_. Our common names of _Deuse_ and _Old Scratch_ are plainly derived from these, and possibly _Old Harry_ is a corruption of _Old Hairy_. By Latinization they became Satyrs. Here, at any rate, is the source of the cloven hoof. The belief in the Devil's appearing to his worshippers as a goat is very old. Possibly the fact that this animal was sacred to Thor, the god of thunder, may explain it. Certain it is that the traditions of Vulcan, Thor, and Wayland[104] converged at last in Satan. Like Vulcan, he was hurled from heaven, and like him he still limps across the stage in Mephistopheles, though without knowing why. In Germany, he has a horse's and not a cloven foot,[105] because the horse was a frequent pagan sacrifice, and therefore associated with devil-worship under the new dispensation. Hence the horror of hippophagism which some French gastronomes are striving to overcome. Everybody who has read "Tom Brown," or Wordsworth's Sonnet on a German stove, remembers the Saxon horse sacred to Woden. The raven was also his peculiar bird, and Grimm is inclined to think this the reason why the witch's familiar appears so often in that shape. It is true that our _Old Nick_ is derived from _Nikkar_, one of the titles of that divinity, but the association of the Evil One with the raven is older, and most probably owing to the ill-omened character of the bird itself. Already in the apocryphal gospel of the "Infancy," the demoniac Son of the Chief Priest puts on his head one of the swaddling-clothes of Christ which Mary has hung out to dry, and forthwith "the devils began to come out of his mouth and to fly away as _crows_ and serpents." It will be noticed that the witches underwent a form of baptism. As the system gradually perfected itself among the least imaginative of men, as the superstitious are apt to be, they could do nothing better than describe Satan's world as in all respects the reverse of that which had been conceived by the orthodox intellect as Divine. Have you an illustrated Bible of the last century? Very good. Turn it upside down, and you find the prints on the whole about as near nature as ever, and yet pretending to be something new by a simple device that saves the fancy a good deal of trouble. For, while it is true that the poetic fancy plays, yet the faculty which goes by that pseudonyme in prosaic minds (and it was by such that the details of this Satanic commerce were pieced together) is hard put to it for invention, and only too thankful for any labor-saving contrivance whatsoever. Accordingly, all it need take the trouble to do was to reverse the ideas of sacred things already engraved on its surface, and behold, a kingdom of hell with all the merit and none of the difficulty of originality! "Uti olim Deus populo suo Hierosolymis Synagogas erexit ut in iis ignarus legis divinae populus erudiretur, voluntatemque Dei placitam ex verbo in iis praedicato hauriret; ita et Diabolus in omnibus omnino suis actionibus simiam Dei agens, gregi suo acherontico conventus et synagogas, quas satanica sabbata vocant, indicit.... Atque de hisce Conventibus et Synagogis Lamiarum nullus Antorum quos quidem evolvi, imo nec ipse Lamiarum Patronus [here he glances at Wierus] scilicet ne dubiolum quidem movit. Adeo ut tuto affirmari liceat conventus a diabolo certo institui. Quos vel ipse, tanquam praeses collegii, vel per daemonem, qui ad cujuslibet sagae custodiam constitutus est, ... vel per alios Magos aut sagas per unum aut duos dies antequam fiat congregatio denunciat.... Loci in quibus solent a daemone coetus et conventicula malefica institui plerumque sunt sylvestres, occulti, subterranei, et ab hominum conversatione remoti.... Evocatae hoc modo et tempore Lamiae, ... daemon illis persuadet eas non posse conventiculis interesse nisi nudum corpus unguento ex corpusculis infantum ante baptismum necatorum praeparato illinant, idque propterea solum illis persuadet ut ad quam plurimas infantum insontium caedes eas alliciat.... Unctionis ritu peracto, abiturientes, ne forte a maritis in lectis desiderantur, vel per incantationem somnum, aurem nimirum vellicando dextra manu prius praedicto unguine illita, conciliant maritis ex quo non facile possunt excitari; vel daemones personas quasdam dormientibus adumbrant, quas, si contigeret expergisci, suas uxores esse putarent; vel interea alius daemon in forma succubi ad latus maritorum adjungitur qui loco uxoris est.... Et ita sine omni remora insidentes baculo, furcae, scopis, aut arundini vel tauro, equo, sui, hirco, aut cani, _quorum omnium exempla prodidit Remig_. L.I.c. 14, devehuntur a daemone ad loca destinata.... Ibi daemon praeses conventus in solio sedet magnifico, forma terrifica, ut plurimum hirci vel canis. Ad quem advenientes viri juxta ac mulieres accedunt reverentiae exhibendae et adorandi gratia, non tamen uno eodemque modo. Interdum complicatis genubus supplices; interdum obverso incedentes tergo et modo retrogrado, in oppositum directo illi reverentiae quam nos praestare solemus. In signum homagii (sit honor castis auribus) Principem suum hircum in [obscaenissimo quodam corporis loco] summa cum reverentia sacrilego ore osculantur. Quo facto, sacrificia daemoni faciunt multis modis. Saepe liberos suos ipsi offerunt. Saepe communione sumpta benedictam hostiam in ore asservatam et extractam (horreo dicere) daemoni oblatam coram eo pede conculcant. His et similibus flagitiis et abominationibus execrandis commissis, incipiunt mensis assidere et convivari de cibis insipidis, insulsis,[106] furtivis, quos daemon suppeditat, vel quos singulae attulere, inderdum tripudiant ante convivium, interdum post illud.... Nec mensae sua deest benedictio coetu hoc digna, verbis constans plane blasphemis quibus ipsum Beelzebub et creatorem et datorem et conservatorem omnium profitentur. Eadem sententia est gratiarum actionis. Post convivium, dorsis invicem obversis ... choreas ducere et cantare fescenninos in honorem daemonis obscaenissimos, vel ad tympanum fistulamve sedentis alicujus in bifida arbore saltare ... tum suis amasiis daemonibus foedissime commisceri. Ultimo pulveribus (quos aliqui scribunt esse cineres hirci illis quem daemon assumpserat et quem adorant subito coram illius flamma absumpti) vel venenis aliis acceptis, saepe etiam cuique indicto nocendi penso, et pronunciato Pseudothei daemonis decreto, ULCISCAMINI VOS, ALIOQUI MORIEMINI. Duabus aut tribus horis in hisce ludis exactis circa Gallicinium daemon convivas suas dimittit."[107] Sometimes they were baptized anew. Sometimes they renounced the Virgin, whom they called in their rites _extensam mulierem_. If the Ave Mary bell should ring while the demon is conveying home his witch, he lets her drop. In the confession of Agnes Simpson the meeting place was North Berwick Kirk. "The Devil started up himself in the pulpit, like a meikle black man, and calling the row [roll] every one answered, _Here_. At his command they opened up three graves and cutted off from the dead corpses the joints of their fingers, toes, and nose, and parted them amongst them, and the said Agnes Simpson got for her part a winding-sheet and two joints. The Devil commanded them to keep the joints upon them while [till] they were dry, and then to make a powder of them to do evil withal." This confession is sadly memorable, for it was made before James I., then king of Scots, and is said to have convinced him of the reality of witchcraft. Hence the act passed in the first year of his reign in England, and not repealed till 1736, under which, perhaps in consequence of which, so many suffered. The notion of these witch-gatherings was first suggested, there can be little doubt, by secret conventicles of persisting or relapsed pagans, or of heretics. Both, perhaps, contributed their share. Sometimes a mountain, as in Germany the Blocksberg,[108] sometimes a conspicuous oak or linden, and there were many such among both Gauls and Germans sacred of old to pagan rites, and later a lonely heath, a place where two roads crossed each other, a cavern, gravel-pit, or quarry, the gallows, or the churchyard, was the place appointed for their diabolic orgies. That the witch could be conveyed bodily to these meetings was at first admitted without any question. But as the husbands of accused persons sometimes testified that their wives had not left their beds on the alleged night of meeting, the witchmongers were put to strange shifts by way of accounting for it. Sometimes the Devil imposed on the husband by a _deceptio visus_; sometimes a demon took the place of the wife; sometimes the body was left and the spirit only transported. But the more orthodox opinion was in favor of corporeal deportation. Bodin appeals triumphantly to the cases of Habbakuk (now in the Apocrypha, but once making a part of the Book of Daniel), and of Philip in the Acts of the Apostles. "I find," he says, "this ecstatic ravishment they talk of much more wonderful than bodily transport. And if the Devil has this power, as they confess, of ravishing the spirit out of the body, is it not more easy to carry body and soul without separation or division of the reasonable part, than to withdraw and divide the one from the other without death?" The author of _De Lamiis_ argues for the corporeal theory. "The evil Angels have the same superiority of natural power as the good, since by the Fall they lost none of the gifts of nature, but only those of grace." Now, as we know that good angels can thus transport men in the twinkling of an eye, it follows that evil ones may do the same. He fortifies his position by a recent example from secular history. "No one doubts about John Faust, who dwelt at Wittenberg, in the time of the sainted Luther, and who, seating himself on his cloak with his companions, was conveyed away and borne by the Devil through the air to distant kingdoms."[109] Glanvin inclines rather to the spiritual than the material hypothesis, and suggests "that the Witch's anointing herself before she takes her flight may perhaps serve to keep the body tenantable and in fit disposition to receive the spirit at its return." Aubrey, whose "Miscellanies" were published in 1696, had no doubts whatever as to the physical asportation of the witch. He says that a gentleman of his acquaintance "was in Portugal _anno_ 1655, when one was burnt by the inquisition for being brought thither from Goa, in East India, in the air, in an incredible short time." As to the conveyance of witches through crevices, keyholes, chimneys, and the like, Herr Walburger discusses the question with such comical gravity that we must give his argument in the undiminished splendor of its jurisconsult latinity. The first sentence is worthy of Magister Bartholomaeus Kuckuk. "Haec realis delatio trahit me quoque ad illam vulgo agitatam quaestionem: _An diabolus Lamias corpore per angusta foramina parietum, fenestrarum, portarum aut per cavernas ignifluas ferre queant?_" (Surely if _tace_ be good Latin for a candle, _caverna igniflua_ should be flattering to a chimney.) "Resp. Lamiae praedicto modo saepius fatentur sese a diabolo per caminum aut alia loca angustiora scopis insidentes per aerem ad montem Bructerorum deferri. Verum deluduntur a Satana istaec mulieres hoc casu egregie nec revera rimulas istas penetrant, sed solummodo daemon praecedens latenter aperit et claudit januas vel fenestras corporis earum capaces, per quas eas intromittit quae putant se formam animalculi parvi, mustelae, catti, locustae, et aliorum induisse. At si forte contingat ut per parietem se delatam confiteatur Saga, tunc, si non totum hoc praestigiosum est, daemonem tamen maxima celeritate tot quot sufficiunt lapides eximere et sustinere aliosne ruant, et postea eadem celeritate iterum eos in suum locum reponere, existimo: cum hominum adspectus hanc tartarei latomi fraudem nequeat deprendere. Idem quoque judicium esse potest de translatione per caminum. Siquidem si caverna igniflua justae amplitudinis est ut nullo impedimento et haesitatione corpus humanum eam perrepere possit, diabolo impossibile non esse per eam eas educere. Si vero per inproportionatum (ut ita loquar) corporibus spatium eas educit tunc meras illusiones praestigiosas esse censeo, nec a diabolo hoc unquam effici posse. Ratio est, quoniam diabolus essentiam creaturae seu lamiae immutare non potest, multo minus efficere ut majus corpus penetret per spatium inproportionatum, alioquin corporum penetratio esset admittenda quod contra naturam et omne Physicorum principium est." This is fine reasoning, and the _ut ita loquar_ thrown in so carelessly, as if with a deprecatory wave of the hand for using a less classical locution than usual, strikes me as a very delicate touch indeed. Grimm tells us that he does not know when broomsticks, spits, and similar utensils were first assumed to be the canonical instruments of this nocturnal equitation. He thinks it comparatively modern, but I suspect it is as old as the first child that ever bestrode his father's staff, and fancied it into a courser shod with wind, like those of Pindar. Alas for the poverty of human invention! It cannot afford a hippogriff for an everyday occasion. The poor old crones, badgered by inquisitors into confessing they had been where they never were, were involved in the further necessity of explaining how the devil they got there. The only steed their parents had ever been rich enough to keep had been of this domestic sort, and they no doubt had ridden in this inexpensive fashion, imagining themselves the grand dames they saw sometimes flash by, in the happy days of childhood, now so far away. Forced to give a _how_, and unable to conceive of mounting in the air without something to sustain them, their bewildered wits naturally took refuge in some such simple subterfuge, and the broomstave, which might make part of the poorest house's furniture, was the nearest at hand. If youth and good spirits could put such life into a dead stick once, why not age and evil spirits now? Moreover, what so likely as an _emeritus_ implement of this sort to become the staff of a withered beldame, and thus to be naturally associated with her image? I remember very well a poor half-crazed creature, who always wore a scarlet cloak and leaned on such a stay, cursing and banning after a fashion that would infallibly have burned her two hundred years ago. But apart from any adventitious associations of later growth, it is certain that a very ancient belief gave to magic the power of imparting life, or the semblance of it, to inanimate things, and thus sometimes making servants of them. The wands of the Egyptian magicians were turned to serpents. Still nearer to the purpose is the capital story of Lucian, out of which Goethe made his _Zauberlehrling_, of the stick turned water-carrier. The classical theory of the witch's flight was driven to no such vulgar expedients, the ointment turning her into a bird for the nonce, as in Lucian and Apuleius. In those days, too, there was nothing known of any camp-meeting of witches and wizards, but each sorceress transformed herself that she might fly to her paramour. According to some of the Scotch stories, the witch, after bestriding her broomsticks must repeat the magic formula, _Horse and Hattork!_ The flitting of these ill-omened night-birds, like nearly all the general superstitions relating to witchcraft, mingles itself and is lost in a throng of figures more august.[110] Diana, Bertha, Holda, Abundia, Befana, once beautiful and divine, the bringers of blessing while men slept, became demons haunting the drear of darkness with terror and ominous suggestion. The process of disenchantment must have been a long one, and none can say how soon it became complete. Perhaps we may take Heine's word for it, that "Genau bei Weibern Weiss man niemals wo der Engel Aufhört und der Teufel anfängt." Once goblinized, Herodias joins them, doomed still to bear about the Baptist's head; and Woden, who, first losing his identity in the Wild Huntsman, sinks by degrees into the mere _spook_ of a Suabian baron, sinfully fond of field-sports, and therefore punished with an eternal phantasm of them, "the hunter and the deer a shade." More and more vulgarized, the infernal train snatches up and sweeps along with it every lawless shape and wild conjecture of distempered fancy, streaming away at last into a comet's tail of wild-haired hags, eager with unnatural hate and more unnatural lust, the nightmare breed of some exorcist's or inquisitor's surfeit, whose own lie has turned upon him in sleep. As it is painfully interesting to trace the gradual degeneration of a poetic faith into the ritual of unimaginative Tupperism, so it is amusing to see pedantry clinging faithfully to the traditions of its prosaic nature, and holding sacred the dead shells that once housed a moral symbol. What a divine thing the _out_side always has been and continues to be! And how the cast clothes of the mind continue always to be in fashion! We turn our coats without changing the cut of them. But was it possible for a man to change not only his skin but his nature? Were there such things as _versipelles, lycanthropi, werwolfs,_ and _loupgarous?_ In the earliest ages science was poetry, as in the later poetry has become science. The phenomena of nature, imaginatively represented, were not long in becoming myths. These the primal poets reproduced again as symbols, no longer of physical, but of moral truths. By and by the professional poets, in search of a subject, are struck by the fund of picturesque material lying unused in them, and work them up once more as narratives, with appropriate personages and decorations. Thence they take the further downward step into legend, and from that to superstition. How many metamorphoses between the elder Edda and the Nibelungen, between Arcturus and the "Idyls of the King"! Let a good, thorough-paced proser get hold of one of these stories, and he carefully desiccates them of whatever fancy may be left, till he has reduced them to the proper dryness of fact. King Lycaon, grandson by the spindleside of Oceanus, after passing through all the stages I have mentioned, becomes the ancestor of the werwolf. Ovid is put upon the stand as a witness, and testifies to the undoubted fact of the poor monarch's own metamorphosis:-- "Territus ipse fugit, nactusque silentia ruris Exululat, frustraque loqui conatur." Does any one still doubt that men may be changed into beasts? Call Lucian, call Apuleius, call Homer, whose story of the companions of Ulysses made swine of by Circe, says Bodin, _n'est pas fable_. If that arch-patron of sorcerers, Wierus, is still unconvinced, and pronounces the whole thing a delusion of diseased imagination, what does he say to Nebuchadnezzar? Nay, let St. Austin be subpoenaed, who declares that "in his time among the Alps sorceresses were common, who, by making travellers eat of a certain cheese, changed them into beasts of burden and then back again into men." Too confiding tourist, beware of _Gruyère_, especially at supper! Then, there was the Philosopher Ammonius, whose lectures were constantly attended by an ass,--a phenomenon not without parallel in more recent times, and all the more credible to Bodin, who had been professor of civil law. In one case we have fortunately the evidence of the ass himself. In Germany, two witches who kept an inn made an ass of a young actor,--not always a very prodigious transformation it will be thought by those familiar with the stage. In his new shape he drew customers by his amusing tricks,--_voluptates mille viatoribus exhibebat_. But one day making his escape (having overheard the secret from his mistresses), he plunged into the water and was disasinized to the extent of recovering his original shape. "Id Petrus Damianus, vir sua aetate inter primos numerandus, cum rem sciscitatus est diligentissime ex hero, _ex asino_, ex mulieribus sagis confessis factum, Leoni VII. Papae narravit, et postquam diu in utramque partem coram Papa fuit disputatum, hoc tandem posse fieri fuit constitum." Bodin must have been delighted with this story, though perhaps as a Protestant he might have vilipended the infallible decision of the Pope in its favor. As for lycanthropy, that was too common in his own time to need any confirmation. It was notorious to all men. "In Livonia, during the latter part of December, a villain goes about summoning the sorcerers to meet at a certain place, and if they fail, the Devil scourges them thither with an iron rod, and that so sharply that the marks of it remain upon them. Their captain goes before; and they, to the number of several thousands, follow him across a river, which passed, they change into wolves, and, casting themselves upon men and flocks, do all manner of damage." This we have on the authority of Melancthon's son-in-law, Gaspar Peucerus. Moreover, many books published in Germany affirm "that one of the greatest kings in Christendom, not long since dead, was often changed into a wolf." But what need of words? The conclusive proof remains, that many in our own day, being put to the torture, have confessed the fact, and been burned alive accordingly. The maintainers of the reality of witchcraft in the next century seem to have dropped the _werwolf_ by common consent, though supported by the same kind of evidence they relied on in other matters, namely, that of ocular witnesses, the confession of the accused, and general notoriety. So lately as 1765 the French peasants believed the "wild beast of the Gevaudan" to be a _loupgarou_, and that, I think, is his last appearance. The particulars of the concubinage of witches with their familiars were discussed with a relish and a filthy minuteness worthy of Sanchez. Could children be born of these devilish amours? Of course they could, said one party; are there not plenty of cases in authentic history? Who was the father of Romulus and Remus? nay, not so very long ago, of Merlin? Another party denied the possibility of the thing altogether. Among these was Luther, who declared the children either to be supposititious, or else mere imps, disguised as innocent sucklings, and known as _Wechselkinder_, or changelings, who were common enough, as everybody must be aware. Of the intercourse itself Luther had no doubts.[111] A third party took a middle ground, and believed that vermin and toads might be the offspring of such amours. And how did the Demon, a mere spiritual essence, contrive himself a body? Some would have it that he entered into dead bodies, by preference, of course, those of sorcerers. It is plain, from the confession of De la Rue, that this was the theory of his examiners. This also had historical evidence in its favor. There was the well-known leading case of the Bride of Corinth, for example. And but yesterday, as it were, at Crossen in Silesia, did not Christopher Monig, an apothecary's servant, come back after being buried, and do duty, as if nothing particular had happened, putting up prescriptions as usual, and "pounding drugs in the mortar with a mighty noise"? Apothecaries seem to have been special victims of these Satanic pranks, for another appeared at Reichenbach not long before, affirming that, "he had poisoned several men with his drugs," which certainly gives an air of truth to the story. Accordingly the Devil is represented as being unpleasantly cold to the touch. "Caietan escrit qu'une sorciere demanda un iour au diable pourquoy il ne se rechauffoit, qui fist response qu'il faisoit ce qu'il pouuoit." Poor Devil! But there are cases in which the demon is represented as so hot that his grasp left a seared spot as black as charcoal. Perhaps some of them came from the torrid zone of their broad empire, and others from the thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice. Those who were not satisfied with the dead-body theory contented themselves, like Dr. More, with that of "adscititious particles," which has, to be sure, a more metaphysical and scholastic flavor about it. That the demons really came, either corporeally or through some diabolic illusion that amounted to the same thing, and that the witch devoted herself to him body and soul, scarce anybody was bold enough to doubt. To these familiars their venerable paramours gave endearing nicknames, such as My little Master, or My dear Martin,--the latter, probably, after the heresy of Luther, and when the rack was popish. The famous witch-finder Hopkins enables us to lengthen the list considerably. One witch whom he convicted, after being "kept from sleep two or three nights," called in five of her devilish servitors. The first was "_Holt_, who came in like a white kitling"; the second "_Jarmara_, like a fat spaniel without any legs at all"; the third, "_Vinegar Tom_, who was like a long-tailed greyhound with an head like an oxe, with a long tail and broad eyes, who, when this discoverer spoke to and bade him to the place provided for him and his angells, immediately transformed himself into the shape of a child of foure yeares old, without a head, and gave half a dozen turnes about the house and vanished at the doore"; the fourth, "_Sack and Sugar_, like a black rabbet"; the fifth, "_News_, like a polcat." Other names of his finding were Elemauzer, Pywacket, Peck-in-the-Crown, Grizzel, and Greedygut, "which," he adds, "no mortal could invent." The name of _Robin_, which we met with in the confession of Alice Duke, has, perhaps, wider associations than the woman herself dreamed of; for, through Robin des Bois and Robin Hood, it may be another of those scattered traces that lead us back to Woden. Probably, however, it is only our old friend Robin Goodfellow, whose namesake Knecht Ruprecht makes such a figure in the German fairy mythology. Possessed persons called in higher agencies,--Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Powers; and among the witnesses against Urbain Grandier we find the names of Leviathan, Behemoth, Isaacarum, Belaam, Asmodeus, and Beherit, who spoke French very well, but were remarkably poor Latinists, knowing, indeed, almost as little of the language as if their youth had been spent in writing Latin verses.[112] A shrewd Scotch physician tried them with Gaelic, but they could make nothing of it. It was only when scepticism had begun to make itself uncomfortably inquisitive, that the Devil had any difficulty in making himself visible and even palpable. In simpler times, demons would almost seem to have made no inconsiderable part of the population. Trithemius tells of one who served as cook to the Bishop of Hildesheim (one shudders to think of the school where he had graduated as _Cordon bleu_), and who delectebatur esse cum hominibus, loquens, interrogans, respondens familiariter omnibus, aliquando visibiliter, aliquando invisibiliter apparens. This last feat of "appearing invisibly" would have been worth seeing. In 1554, the Devil came of a Christmas eve to Lawrence Doner, a parish priest in Saxony, and asked to be confessed. "Admissus, horrendas adversus Christum filium Dei blasphemias evomuit. Verum cum virtute verbi Dei a parocho victus esset, intolerabili post se relicto foetore abiit." Splendidly dressed, with two companions, he frequented an honest man's house at Rothenberg. He brought with him a piper or fiddler, and contrived feasts and dances under pretext of wooing the goodman's daughter. He boasted that he was a foreign nobleman of immense wealth, and, for a time, was as successful as an Italian courier has been known to be at one of our fashionable watering-places. But the importunity of the guest and his friends at length displicuit patrifamilias, who accordingly one evening invited a minister of the Word to meet them at supper, and entered upon pious discourse with him from the word of God. Wherefore, seeking other matter of conversation, they said that there were many facetious things more suitable to exhilarate the supper-table than the interpretation of Holy Writ, and begged that they might be no longer bored with Scripture. Thoroughly satisfied by their singular way of thinking that his guests were diabolical, paterfamilias cries out in Latin worthy of Father Tom, "Apagite, vos scelerati nebulones!" This said, the tartarean impostor and his companions at once vanished with a great tumult, leaving behind them a most unpleasant foetor and the bodies of three men who had been hanged. Perhaps if the clergyman-cure were faithfully tried upon the next fortune-hunting count with a large real estate in whiskers and an imaginary one in Barataria, he also might vanish, leaving a strong smell of barber's-shop, and taking with him a body that will come to the gallows in due time. It were worth trying. Luther tells of a demon who served as _famulus_ in a monastery, fetching beer for the monks, and always insisting on honest measure for his money. There is one case on record where the Devil appealed to the courts for protection in his rights. A monk, going to visit his mistress, fell dead as he was passing a bridge. The good and bad angel came to litigation about his soul. The case was referred by agreement to Eichard, Duke of Normandy, who decided that the monk's body should be carried back to the bridge, and his soul restored to it by the claimants. If he persevered in keeping his assignation, the Devil was to have him, if not, then the Angel. The monk, thus put upon his guard, turns back and saves his soul, such as it was.[113] Perhaps the most impudent thing the Devil ever did was to open a school of magic in Toledo. The ceremony of graduation in this institution was peculiar. The senior class had all to run through a narrow cavern, and the venerable president was entitled to the hindmost, if he could catch him. Sometimes it happened that he caught only his shadow, and in that case the man who had been nimble enough to do what Goethe pronounces impossible, became the most profound magician of his year. Hence our proverb of _the Devil take the hindmost_, and Chamisso's story of Peter Schlemihl. There is no end of such stories. They were repeated and believed by the gravest and wisest men down to the end of the sixteenth century; they were received undoubtingly by the great majority down to the end of the seventeenth. The Devil was an easy way of accounting for what was beyond men's comprehension. He was the simple and satisfactory answer to all the conundrums of Nature. And what the Devil had not time to bestow his personal attention upon, the witch was always ready to do for him. Was a doctor at a loss about a case? How could he save his credit more cheaply than by pronouncing it witchcraft, and turning it over to the parson to be exorcised? Did a man's cow die suddenly, or his horse fall lame? Witchcraft! Did one of those writers of controversial quartos, heavy as the stone of Diomed, feel a pain in the small of his back? Witchcraft! Unhappily there were always ugly old women; and if you crossed them in any way, or did them a wrong, they were given to scolding and banning. If, within a year or two after, anything should happen to you or yours, why, of course, old Mother Bombie or Goody Blake must be at the bottom of it. For it was perfectly well known that there were witches, (does not God's law say expressly, "Suffer not a _witch_ to live?") and that they could cast a spell by the mere glance of their eyes, could cause you to pine away by melting a waxen image, could give you a pain wherever they liked by sticking pins into the same, could bring sickness into your house or into your barn by hiding a Devil's powder under the threshold; and who knows what else? Worst of all, they could send a demon into your body, who would cause you to vomit pins, hair, pebbles, knives,-indeed, almost anything short of a cathedral,-without any fault of yours, utter through you the most impertinent things _verbi ministro_, and, in short, make you the most important personage in the parish for the time being. Meanwhile, you were an object of condolence and contribution to the whole neighborhood. What wonder if a lazy apprentice or servant-maid (Bekker gives several instances of the kind detected by him) should prefer being possessed, with its attendant perquisites, to drudging from morning till night? And to any one who has observed how common a thing in certain states of mind self-connivance is, and how near it is to self-deception, it will not be surprising that some were, to all intents and purposes, really possessed. Who has never felt an almost irresistible temptation, and seemingly not self-originated, to let himself go? to let his mind gallop and kick and curvet and roll like a horse turned loose? in short, as we Yankees say, "to speak out in meeting"? Who never had it suggested to him by the fiend to break in at a funeral with a real character of the deceased, instead of that Mrs. Grundyfied view of him which the clergyman is so painfully elaborating in his prayer? Remove the pendulum of conventional routine, and the mental machinery runs on with a whir that gives a delightful excitement to sluggish temperaments, and is, perhaps, the natural relief of highly nervous organizations. The tyrant Will is dethroned, and the sceptre snatched by his frolic sister Whim. This state of things, if continued, must become either insanity or imposture. But who can say precisely where consciousness ceases and a kind of automatic movement begins, the result of over-excitement? The subjects of these strange disturbances have been almost always young women or girls at a critical period of their development. Many of the most remarkable cases have occurred in convents, and both there and elsewhere, as in other kinds of temporary nervous derangement, have proved contagious. Sometimes, as in the affair of the nuns of Loudon, there seems every reason to suspect a conspiracy; but I am not quite ready to say that Grandier was the only victim, and that some of the energumens were not unconscious tools in the hands of priestcraft and revenge. One thing is certain: that in the dioceses of humanely sceptical prelates the cases of possession were sporadic only, and either cured, or at least hindered from becoming epidemic, by episcopal mandate. Cardinal Mazarin, when Papal vice-legate at Avignon, made an end of the trade of exorcism within his government. But scepticism, down to the beginning of the eighteenth century, was the exception. Undoubting and often fanatical belief was the rule. It is easy enough to be astonished at it, still easier to misapprehend it. How could sane men have been deceived by such nursery-tales? Still more, how could they have suffered themselves, on what seems to us such puerile evidence, to consent to such atrocious cruelties, nay, to urge them on? As to the belief, we should remember that the human mind, when it sails by _dead reckoning_, without the possibility of a fresh observation, perhaps without the instruments necessary to take one, will sometimes bring up in very strange latitudes. Do we of the nineteenth century, then, always strike out boldly into the unlandmarked deep of speculation and shape our courses by the stars, or do we not sometimes con our voyage by what seem to us the firm and familiar headlands of truth, planted by God himself, but which may, after all, be no more than an insubstantial mockery of cloud or airy juggle of mirage? The refraction of our own atmosphere has by no means made an end of its tricks with the appearances of things in our little world of thought. The men of that day believed what they saw, or, as our generation would put it, what they _thought_ they saw. Very good. The vast majority of men believe, and always will believe, on the same terms. When one comes along who can partly distinguish the thing seen from that travesty or distortion of it which the thousand disturbing influences within him and without him would _make_ him see, we call him a great philosopher. All our intellectual charts are engraved according to his observations, and we steer contentedly by them till some man whose brain rests on a still more unmovable basis corrects them still further by eliminating what his predecessor thought _he_ saw. We must account for many former aberrations in the moral world by the presence of more or less nebulous bodies of a certain gravity which modified the actual position of truth in its relation to the mind, and which, if they have now vanished, have made way, perhaps, for others whose influence will in like manner be allowed for by posterity in their estimate of us. In matters of faith, astrology has by no means yet given place to astronomy, nor alchemy become chemistry, which knows what to seek for and how to find it. In the days of witchcraft all science was still in the condition of _May-be;_ it is only just bringing itself to find a higher satisfaction in the imperturbable _Must-be_ of law. We should remember that what we call _natural_ may have a very different meaning for one generation from that which it has for another. The boundary between the "other" world and this ran till very lately, and at some points runs still, through a vast tract of unexplored border-land of very uncertain tenure. Even now the territory which Reason holds firmly as Lord Warden of the marches during daylight, is subject to sudden raids of Imagination by night. But physical darkness is not the only one that lends opportunity to such incursions; and in midsummer 1692, when Ebenezer Bapson, looking out of the fort at Gloucester in broad day, saw shapes of men, sometimes in blue coats like Indians, sometimes in white waistcoats like Frenchmen, it seemed _more_ natural to most men that they should be spectres than men of flesh and blood. Granting the assumed premises, as nearly every one did, the syllogism was perfect. So much for the apparent reasonableness of the belief, since every man's logic is satisfied with a legitimate deduction from his own postulates. Causes for the cruelty to which the belief led are not further to seek. Toward no crime have men shown themselves so cold-bloodedly cruel as in punishing difference of belief, and the first systematic persecutions for witchcraft began with the inquisitors in the South of France in the thirteenth century. It was then and there that the charge of sexual uncleanness with demons was first devised. Persecuted heretics would naturally meet in darkness and secret, and it was easy to blacken such meetings with the accusation of deeds so foul as to shun the light of day and the eyes of men. They met to renounce God and worship the Devil. But this was not enough. To excite popular hatred and keep it fiercely alive, fear must be mingled with it; and this end was reached by making the heretic also a sorcerer, who, by the Devil's help, could and would work all manner of fiendish mischief. When by this means the belief in a league between witch and demon had become firmly established, witchcraft grew into a well-defined crime, hateful enough in itself to furnish pastime for the torturer and food for the fagot. In the fifteenth century, witches were burned by thousands, and it may well be doubted if all paganism together was ever guilty of so many human sacrifices in the same space of time. In the sixteenth, these holocausts were appealed to as conclusive evidence of the reality of the crime, terror was again aroused, the more vindictive that its sources were so vague and intangible, and cruelty was the natural consequence. Nothing but an abject panic, in which the whole use of reason, except as a mill to grind out syllogisms, was altogether lost, will account for some chapters in Bodin's _Démonomanie_. Men were surrounded by a forever-renewed conspiracy whose ramifications they could not trace, though they might now and then lay hold on one of its associates. Protestant and Catholic might agree in nothing else, but they were unanimous in their dread of this invisible enemy. If fright could turn civilized Englishmen into savage Iroquois during the imagined negro plots of New York in 1741 and of Jamaica in 1865, if the same invisible omnipresence of Fenianism shall be able to work the same miracle, as it perhaps will, next year in England itself, why need we be astonished that the blows should have fallen upon many an innocent head when men were striking wildly in self-defence, as they supposed, against the unindictable Powers of Darkness, against a plot which could be carried on by human agents, but with invisible accessories and by supernatural means? In the seventeenth century an element was added which pretty well supplied the place of heresy as a sharpener of hatred and an awakener of indefinable suspicion. Scepticism had been born into the world, almost more hateful than heresy, because it had the manners of good society and contented itself with a smile, a shrug, an almost imperceptible lift of the eyebrow,--a kind of reasoning especially exasperating to disputants of the old school, who still cared about victory, even when they did not about the principles involved in the debate. The Puritan emigration to New England took place at a time when the belief in diabolic agency had been hardly called in question, much less shaken. The early adventurers brought it with them to a country in every way fitted, not only to keep it alive, but to feed it into greater vigor. The solitude of the wilderness (and solitude alone, by dis-furnishing the brain of its commonplace associations, makes it an apt theatre for the delusions of imagination), the nightly forest noises, the glimpse, perhaps, through the leaves, of a painted savage face, uncertain whether of redman or Devil, but more likely of the latter, above all, that measureless mystery of the unknown and conjectural stretching away illimitable on all sides and vexing the mind, somewhat as physical darkness does, with intimation and misgiving,--under all these influences, whatever seeds of superstition had in any way got over from the Old World would find an only too congenial soil in the New. The leaders of that emigration believed and taught that demons loved to dwell in waste and wooded places, that the Indians did homage to the bodily presence of the Devil, and that he was especially enraged against those who had planted an outpost of the true faith upon this continent hitherto all his own. In the third generation of the settlement, in proportion as living faith decayed, the clergy insisted all the more strongly on the traditions of the elders, and as they all placed the sources of goodness and religion in some inaccessible Other World rather than in the soul of man himself, they clung to every shred of the supernatural as proof of the existence of that Other World, and of its interest in the affairs of this. They had the countenance of all the great theologians, Catholic as well as Protestant, of the leaders of the Reformation, and in their own day of such men as More and Glanvil and Baxter.[114] If to all these causes, more or less operative in 1692, we add the harassing excitement of an Indian war (urged on by Satan in his hatred of the churches), with its daily and nightly apprehensions and alarms, we shall be less astonished that the delusion in Salem Village rose so high than that it subsided so soon. I have already said that it was religious antipathy or clerical interest that first made heresy and witchcraft identical and cast them into the same expiatory fire. The invention was a Catholic one, but it is plain that Protestants soon learned its value and were not slow in making it a plague to the inventor. It was not till after the Reformation that there was any systematic hunting out of witches in England. Then, no doubt, the innocent charms and rhyming prayers of the old religion were regarded as incantations, and twisted into evidence against miserable beldames who mumbled over in their dotage what they had learned at their mother's knee. It is plain, at least, that this was one of Agnes Simpson's crimes. But as respects the frivolity of the proof adduced, there was nothing to choose between Catholic and Protestant. Out of civil and canon law a net was woven through whose meshes there was no escape, and into it the victims were driven by popular clamor. Suspicion of witchcraft was justified by general report, by the ill-looks of the suspected, by being silent when accused, by her mother's having been a witch, by flight, by exclaiming when arrested, _I am lost!_ by a habit of using imprecations, by the evidence of two witnesses, by the accusation of a man on his death-bed, by a habit of being away from home at night, by fifty other things equally grave. Anybody might be an accuser,--a personal enemy, an infamous person, a child, parent, brother, or sister. Once accused, the culprit was not to be allowed to touch the ground on the way to prison, was not to be left alone there lest she have interviews with the Devil and get from him the means of being insensible under torture, was to be stripped and shaved in order to prevent her concealing some charm, or to facilitate the finding of witch-marks. Her right thumb tied to her left great-toe, and _vice versa_, she was thrown into the water. If she floated, she was a witch; if she sank and was drowned, she was lucky. This trial, as old as the days of Pliny the Elder, was gone out of fashion, the author of _De Lamiis_ assures us, in his day, everywhere but in Westphalia. "On halfproof or strong presumption," says Bodin, the judge may proceed to torture. If the witch did not shed tears under the rack, it was almost conclusive of guilt. On this topic of torture he grows eloquent. The rack does very well, but to thrust splinters between the nails and flesh of hands and feet "is the most excellent gehenna of all, and practised in Turkey." That of Florence, where they seat the criminal in a hanging chair so contrived that if he drop asleep it overturns and leaves him hanging by a rope which wrenches his arms backwards, is perhaps even better, "for the limbs are not broken, and without trouble or labor one gets out the truth." It is well in carrying the accused to the chamber of torture to cause some in the next room to shriek fearfully as if on the rack, that they may be terrified into confession. It is proper to tell them that their accomplices have confessed and accused them ("though they have done no such thing") that they may do the same out of revenge. The judge may also with a good conscience lie to the prisoner and tell her that if she admit her guilt, she may be pardoned. This is Bodin's opinion, but Walburger, writing a century later, concludes that the judge may go to any extent _citra mendacium_, this side of lying. He may tell the witch that he will be favorable, meaning to the Commonwealth; that he will see that she has a new house built for her, that is, a wooden one to burn her in; that her confession will be most useful in saving her life, to wit, her life eternal. There seems little difference between the German's white lies and the Frenchman's black ones. As to punishment, Bodin is fierce for burning. Though a Protestant, he quotes with evident satisfaction a decision of the magistrates that one "who had eaten flesh on a Friday should be burned alive unless he repented, and if he repented, yet he was hanged out of compassion." A child under twelve who will not confess meeting with the Devil should be put to death if convicted of the fact, though Bodin allows that Satan made no express compact with those who had not arrived at puberty. This he learned from the examination of Jeanne Harvillier, who deposed, "that, though her mother dedicated her to Satan so soon as she was born, yet she was not married to him, nor did he demand that, or her renunciation of God, till she had attained the age of twelve." There is no more painful reading than this, except the trials of the witches themselves. These awaken, by turns, pity, indignation, disgust, and dread,--dread at the thought of what the human mind may be brought to believe not only probable, but proven. But it is well to be put upon our guard by lessons of this kind, for the wisest man is in some respects little better than a madman in a strait-waistcoat of habit, public opinion, prudence, or the like. Scepticism began at length to make itself felt, but it spread slowly and was shy of proclaiming itself. The orthodox party was not backward to charge with sorcery whoever doubted their facts or pitied their victims. Bodin says that it is good cause of suspicion against a judge if he turn the matter into ridicule, or incline toward mercy. The mob, as it always is, was orthodox. It was dangerous to doubt, it might be fatal to deny. In 1453 Guillaume de Lure was burned at Poitiers on his own confession of a compact with Satan, by which he agreed "to preach and did preach that everything told of sorcerers was mere fable, and that it was cruelly done to condemn them to death." This contract was found among his papers signed "with the Devil's own claw," as Howell says speaking of a similar case. It is not to be wondered at that the earlier doubters were cautious. There was literally a reign of terror, and during such _régimes_ men are commonly found more eager to be informers and accusers than of counsel for the defence. Peter of Abano is reckoned among the earliest unbelievers who declared himself openly.[115] Chaucer was certainly a sceptic, as appears by the opening of the Wife of Bath's Tale. Wierus, a German physician, was the first to undertake (1563) a refutation of the facts and assumptions on which the prosecutions for witchcraft were based. His explanation of the phenomena is mainly physiological. Mr. Leckie hardly states his position correctly, in saying, "that he never dreamed of restricting the sphere of the supernatural." Wierus went as far as he dared. No one can read his book without feeling that he insinuates much more than he positively affirms or denies. He would have weakened his cause if he had seemed to disbelieve in demoniacal possession, since that had the supposed warrant of Scripture; but it may be questioned whether he uses the words _Satan_ and _Demon_ in any other way than that in which many people still use the word _Nature_. He was forced to accept certain premises of his opponents by the line of his argument. When he recites incredible stories without comment, it is not that he believes them, but that he thinks their absurdity obvious. That he wrote under a certain restraint is plain from the Colophon of his book, where he says: "Nihil autem hic ita assertum volo, quod aequiori judicio Catholicae Christi Ecclesiae non omnino submittam, palinodia mox spontanea emendaturus, si erroris alicubi convincar." A great deal of latent and timid scepticism seems to have been brought to the surface by his work. Many eminent persons wrote to him in gratitude and commendation. In the Preface to his shorter treatise _De Lamiis_ (which is a mere abridgment), he thanks God that his labors had "in many places caused the cruelty against innocent blood to slacken," and that "some more distinguished judges treat more mildly and even absolve from capital punishment the wretched old women branded with the odious name of witches by the populace." In the _Pseudomonarchia Daemonum_, he gives a kind of census of the diabolic kingdom,[116] but evidently with secret intention of making the whole thing ridiculous, or it would not have so stirred the bile of Bodin. Wierus was saluted by many contemporaries as a Hercules who destroyed monsters, and himself not immodestly claimed the civic wreath for having saved the lives of fellow-citizens. Posterity should not forget a man who really did an honest life's work for humanity and the liberation of thought. From one of the letters appended to his book we learn that Jacobus Savagius, a physician of Antwerp, had twenty years before written a treatise with the same design, but confining himself to the medical argument exclusively. He was, however, prevented from publishing it by death. It is pleasant to learn from Bodin that Alciato, the famous lawyer and emblematist, was one of those who "laughed and made others laugh at the evidence relied on at the trials, insisting that witchcraft was a thing impossible and fabulous, and so softened the hearts of judges (in spite of the fact that an inquisitor had caused to burn more than a hundred sorcerers in Piedmont), that all the accused escaped." In England, Reginald Scot was the first to enter the lists in behalf of those who had no champion. His book, published in 1584, is full of manly sense and spirit, above all, of a tender humanity that gives it a warmth which we miss in every other written on the same side. In the dedication to Sir Roger Manwood he says: "I renounce all protection and despise all friendship that might serve towards the suppressing or supplanting of truth." To his kinsman, Sir Thomas Scot, he writes: "My greatest adversaries are _young ignorance_ and _old custom_; for what folly soever tract of time hath fostered, it is so superstitiously pursued of some, as though no error could be acquainted with custom." And in his Preface he thus states his motives: "God that knoweth my heart is witness, and you that read my book shall see, that my drift and purpose in this enterprise tendeth only to these respects. First, that the glory and power of God be not so abridged and abased as to be thrust into the hand or lip of a lewd old woman, whereby the work of the Creator should be attributed to the power of a creature. Secondly, that the religion of the Gospel may be seen to stand without such peevish trumpery. Thirdly, that lawful favor and Christian compassion be rather used towards these poor souls than rigor and extremity. Because they which are commonly accused of witchcraft are the least sufficient of all other persons to speak for themselves, as having the most base and simple education of all others, the extremity of their age giving them leave to dote, their poverty to beg, their wrongs to chide and threaten (as being void of any other way of revenge), their humor melancholical to be full of imaginations, from whence chiefly proceedeth the vanity of their confessions.... And for so much as the mighty help themselves together, and the poor widow's cry, though it reach to Heaven, is scarce heard here upon earth, I thought good (according to my poor ability) to make intercession that some part of common rigor and some points of hasty judgment may be advised upon.".... The case is nowhere put with more point, or urged with more sense and eloquence, than by Scot, whose book contains also more curious matter, in the way of charms, incantations, exorcisms, and feats of legerdemain, than any other of the kind. Other books followed on the same side, of which Bekker's, published about a century later, was the most important. It is well reasoned, learned, and tedious to a masterly degree. But though the belief in witchcraft might be shaken, it still had the advantage of being on the whole orthodox and respectable. Wise men, as usual, insisted on regarding superstition as of one substance with faith, and objected to any scouring of the shield of religion, lest, like that of Cornelius Scriblerus, it should suddenly turn out to be nothing more than "a paltry old sconce with the nozzle broke off." The Devil continued to be the only recognized Minister Resident of God upon earth. When we remember that one man's accusation on his death-bed was enough to constitute grave presumption of witchcraft, it might seem singular that dying testimonies were so long of no avail against the common credulity. But it should be remembered that men are mentally no less than corporeally gregarious, and that public opinion, the fetish even of the nineteenth century, makes men, whether for good or ill, into a mob, which either hurries the individual judgment along with it, or runs over and tramples it into insensibility. Those who are so fortunate as to occupy the philosophical position of spectators _ab extra_ are very few in any generation. There were exceptions, it is true, but the old cruelties went on. In 1610 a case came before the tribunal of the _Tourelle_, and when the counsel for the accused argued at some length that sorcery was ineffectual, and that the Devil could not destroy life, President Seguier told him that he might spare his breath, since the court had long been convinced on those points. And yet two years later the grand-vicars of the Bishop of Beauvais solemnly summoned Beelzebuth, Satan, Motelu, and Briffaut, with the four legions under their charge, to appear and sign an agreement never again to enter the bodies of reasonable or other creatures, under pain of excommunication! If they refused, they were to be given over to "the power of hell to be tormented and tortured more than was customary, three thousand years after the judgment." Under this proclamation they all came in, like reconstructed rebels, and signed whatever document was put before them. Toward the middle of the seventeenth century, the safe thing was still to believe, or at any rate to profess belief. Sir Thomas Browne, though he had written an exposure of "Vulgar Errors," testified in court to his faith in the possibility of witchcraft. Sir Kenelm Digby, in his "Observations on the Religio Medici," takes, perhaps, as advanced ground as any, when he says: "Neither do I deny there are witches; I only reserve my assent till I meet with stronger motives to carry it." The position of even enlightened men of the world in that age might be called semi-sceptical. La Bruyère, no doubt, expresses the average of opinion: "Que penser de la magie et du sortilége? La théorie en est obscurcie, les principes vagues, incertains, et qui approchent du visionnaire; mais il y a des faits embarrassants, affirmés par des hommes graves qui les ont vus; les admettre tous, ou les nier tous, paraît un égal inconvénient, et j'ose dire qu'en cela comme en toutes les choses extraordinaires et qui sorteut des communes règles, il y a un parti à trouver entre les âmes crédules et les esprits forts."[117] Montaigne, to be sure, had long before declared his entire disbelief, and yet the Parliament of Bourdeaux, his own city, condemned a man to be burned as a _noüeur d'aiguillettes_ so lately as 1718. Indeed, it was not, says Maury, till the first quarter of the eighteenth century that one might safely publish his incredulity in France. In Scotland, witches were burned for the last time in 1722. Garinet cites the case of a girl near Amiens possessed by three demons,--Mimi, Zozo, and Crapoulet,--in 1816. The two beautiful volumes of Mr. Upham are, so far as I know, unique in their kind. It is, in some respects, a clinical lecture on human nature, as well as on the special epidemical disease under which the patient is laboring. He has written not merely a history of the so-called Salem Witchcraft, but has made it intelligible by a minute account of the place where the delusion took its rise, the persons concerned in it, whether as actors or sufferers, and the circumstances which led to it. By deeds, wills, and the records of courts and churches, by plans, maps, and drawings, he has recreated Salem Village as it was two hundred years ago, so that we seem wellnigh to talk with its people and walk over its fields, or through its cart-tracks and bridle-roads. We are made partners in parish and village feuds, we share in the chimney-corner gossip, and learn for the first time how many mean and merely human motives, whether consciously or unconsciously, gave impulse and intensity to the passions of the actors in that memorable tragedy which dealt the death-blow in this country to the belief in Satanic compacts. Mr. Upham's minute details, which give us something like a photographic picture of the in-door and out-door scenery that surrounded the events he narrates, help us materially to understand their origin and the course they inevitably took. In this respect his book is original and full of new interest. To know the kind of life these people led, the kind of place they dwelt in, and the tenor of their thought, makes much real to us that was conjectural before. The influences of outward nature, of remoteness from the main highways of the world's thought, of seclusion, as the foster-mother of traditionary beliefs, of a hard life and unwholesome diet in exciting or obscuring the brain through the nerves and stomach, have been hitherto commonly overlooked in accounting for the phenomena of witchcraft. The great persecutions for this imaginary crime have always taken place in lonely places, among the poor, the ignorant, and, above all, the ill-fed. One of the best things in Mr. Upham's book is the portrait of Parris, the minister of Salem Village, in whose household the children who, under the assumed possession of evil spirits, became accusers and witnesses, began their tricks. He is shown to us pedantic and something of a martinet in church discipline and ceremony, somewhat inclined to magnify his office, fond of controversy as he was skilful and rather unscrupulous in the conduct of it, and glad of any occasion to make himself prominent. Was he the unconscious agent of his own superstition, or did he take advantage of the superstition of others for purposes of his own? The question is not an easy one to answer. Men will sacrifice everything, sometimes even themselves, to their pride of logic and their love of victory. Bodin loses sight of humanity altogether in his eagerness to make out his case, and display his learning in the canon and civil law. He does not scruple to exaggerate, to misquote, to charge his antagonists with atheism, sorcery, and insidious designs against religion and society, that he may persuade the jury of Europe to bring in a verdict of guilty.[118] Yet there is no reason to doubt the sincerity of his belief. Was Parris equally sincere? On the whole, I think it likely that he was. But if we acquit Parris, what shall we say of the demoniacal girls? The probability seems to be that those who began in harmless deceit found themselves at length involved so deeply, that dread of shame and punishment drove them to an extremity where their only choice was between sacrificing themselves, or others to save themselves. It is not unlikely that some of the younger girls were so far carried along by imitation or imaginative sympathy as in some degree to "credit their own lie." Any one who has watched or made experiments in animal magnetism knows how easy it is to persuade young women of nervous temperaments that they are doing that by the will of another which they really do by an obscure volition of their own, under the influence of an imagination adroitly guided by the magnetizer. The marvellous is so fascinating, that nine persons in ten, if once persuaded that a thing is possible, are eager to believe it probable, and at last cunning in convincing themselves that it is proven. But it is impossible to believe that the possessed girls in this case did not know how the pins they vomited got into their mouths. Mr. Upham has shown, in the case of Anne Putnam, Jr., an hereditary tendency to hallucination, if not insanity. One of her uncles had seen the Devil by broad daylight in the novel disguise of a blue boar, in which shape, as a tavern sign, he had doubtless proved more seductive than in his more ordinary transfigurations. A great deal of light is let in upon the question of whether there was deliberate imposture or no, by the narrative of Rev. Mr. Turell of Medford, written in 1728, which gives us all the particulars of a case of pretended possession in Littleton, eight years before. The eldest of three sisters began the game, and found herself before long obliged to take the next in age into her confidence. By and by the youngest, finding her sisters pitied and caressed on account of their supposed sufferings while she was neglected, began to play off the same tricks. The usual phenomena followed. They were convulsed, they fell into swoons, they were pinched and bruised, they were found in the water, on the top of a tree or of the barn. To these places they said they were conveyed through the air, and there were those who had seen them flying, which shows how strong is the impulse which prompts men to conspire with their own delusion, where the marvellous is concerned. The girls did whatever they had heard or read that was common in such cases. They even accused a respectable neighbor as the cause of their torments. There were some doubters, but "so far as I can learn," says Turell, "the greater number believed and said they were under the evil hand, or possessed by Satan." But the most interesting fact of all is supplied by the confession of the elder sister, made eight years later under stress of remorse. Having once begun, they found returning more tedious than going o'er. To keep up their cheat made life a burden to them, but they could not stop. Thirty years earlier, their juggling might have proved as disastrous as that at Salem Village. There, parish and boundary feuds had set enmity between neighbors, and the girls, called on to say who troubled them, cried out upon those whom they had been wont to hear called by hard names at home. They probably had no notion what a frightful ending their comedy was to have; but at any rate they were powerless, for the reins had passed out of their hands into the sterner grasp of minister and magistrate. They were dragged deeper and deeper, as men always are by their own lie. The proceedings at the Salem trials are sometimes spoken of as if they were exceptionally cruel. But, in fact, if compared with others of the same kind, they were exceptionally humane. At a time when Baxter could tell with satisfaction of a "_reading_ parson" eighty years old, who, after being kept awake five days and nights, confessed his dealings with the Devil, it is rather wonderful that no mode of torture other than mental was tried at Salem. Nor were the magistrates more besotted or unfair than usual in dealing with the evidence. Now and then, it is true, a man more sceptical or intelligent than common had exposed some pretended demoniac. The Bishop of Orléans, in 1598, read aloud to Martha Brossier the story of the Ephesian Widow, and the girl, hearing Latin, and taking it for Scripture, went forthwith into convulsions. He found also that the Devil who possessed her could not distinguish holy from profane water. But that there were deceptions did not shake the general belief in the reality of possession. The proof in such cases could not and ought not to be subjected to the ordinary tests. "If many natural things," says Bodin, "are incredible and some of them incomprehensible, _a fortiori_ the power of supernatural intelligences and the doings of spirits are incomprehensible. But error has risen to its height in this, that those who have denied the power of spirits and the doings of sorcerers have wished to dispute physically concerning supernatural or metaphysical things, which is a notable incongruity." That the girls were really possessed, seemed to Stoughton and his colleagues the most rational theory,--a theory in harmony with the rest of their creed, and sustained by the unanimous consent of pious men as well as the evidence of that most cunning and least suspected of all sorcerers, the Past,--and how confront or cross-examine invisible witnesses, especially witnesses whom it was a kind of impiety to doubt? Evidence that would have been convincing in ordinary cases was of no weight against the general prepossession. In 1659 the house of a man in Brightling, Sussex, was troubled by a demon, who set it on fire at various times, and was continually throwing things about. The clergy of the neighborhood held a day of fasting and prayer in consequence. A maid-servant was afterwards detected as the cause of the missiles. But this did not in the least stagger Mr. Bennet, minister of the parish, who merely says: "There was a _seeming blur_ cast, though not on the whole, yet upon some part of it, for their servant-girl was at last found throwing some things," and goes off into a eulogium on the "efficacy of prayer." In one respect, to which Mr. Upham first gives the importance it deserves, the Salem trials were distinguished from all others. Though some of the accused had been terrified into confession, yet not one persevered in it, but all died protesting their innocence, and with unshaken constancy, though an acknowledgment of guilt would have saved the lives of all. This martyr proof of the efficacy of Puritanism in the character and conscience may be allowed to outweigh a great many sneers at Puritan fanaticism. It is at least a testimony to the courage and constancy which a profound religious sentiment had made common among the people of whom these sufferers were average representatives. The accused also were not, as was commonly the case, abandoned by their friends. In all the trials of this kind there is nothing so pathetic as the picture of Jonathan Cary holding up the weary arms of his wife during her trial, and wiping away the sweat from her brow and the tears from her face. Another remarkable fact is this, that while in other countries the delusion was extinguished by the incredulity of the upper classes and the interference of authority, here the reaction took place among the people themselves, and here only was an attempt made at some legislative restitution, however inadequate. Mr. Upham's sincere and honest narrative, while it never condescends to a formal plea, is the best vindication possible of a community which was itself the greatest sufferer by the persecution which its credulity engendered. If any lesson may be drawn from the tragical and too often disgustful history of witchcraft, it is not one of exultation at our superior enlightenment or shame at the shortcomings of the human intellect. It is rather one of charity and self-distrust. When we see what inhuman absurdities men in other respects wise and good have clung to as the corner-stone of their faith in immortality and a divine ordering of the world, may we not suspect that those who now maintain political or other doctrines which seem to us barbarous and unenlightened, may be, for all that, in the main as virtuous and clear-sighted as ourselves? While we maintain our own side with an honest ardor of conviction, let us not forget to allow for mortal incompetence in the other. And if there are men who regret the Good Old Times, without too clear a notion of what they were, they should at least be thankful that we are rid of that misguided energy of faith which justified conscience in making men unrelentingly cruel. Even Mr. Leckie softens a little at the thought of the many innocent and beautiful beliefs of which a growing scepticism has robbed us in the decay of supernaturalism. But we need not despair; for, after all, scepticism is first cousin of credulity, and we are not surprised to see the tough doubter Montaigne hanging up his offerings in the shrine of our Lady of Loreto. Scepticism commonly takes up the room left by defect of imagination, and is the very quality of mind most likely to seek for sensual proof of supersensual things. If one came from the dead, it could not believe; and yet it longs for such a witness, and will put up with a very dubious one. So long as night is left and the helplessness of dream, the wonderful will not cease from among men. While we are the solitary prisoners of darkness, the witch seats herself at the loom of thought, and weaves strange figures into the web that looks so familiar and ordinary in the dry light of every-day. Just as we are flattering ourselves that the old spirit of sorcery is laid, behold the tables are tipping and the floors drumming all over Christendom. The faculty of wonder is not defunct, but is only getting more and more emancipated from the unnatural service of terror, and restored to its proper function as a minister of delight. A higher mode of belief is the best exorciser, because it makes the spiritual at one with the actual world instead of hostile, or at best alien. It has been the grossly material interpretations of spiritual doctrine that have given occasion to the two extremes of superstition and unbelief. While the resurrection of the body has been insisted on, that resurrection from the body which is the privilege of all has been forgotten. Superstition in its baneful form was largely due to the enforcement by the Church of arguments that involved a _petitio principii_, for it is the miserable necessity of all false logic to accept of very ignoble allies. Fear became at length its chief expedient for the maintenance of its power; and as there is a beneficent necessity laid upon a majority of mankind to sustain and perpetuate the order of things they are born into, and to make all new ideas manfully prove their right, first, to be at all, and then to be heard, many even superior minds dreaded the tearing away of vicious accretions as dangerous to the whole edifice of religion and society. But if this old ghost be fading away in what we regard as the dawn of a better day, we may console ourselves by thinking that perhaps, after all, we are not so _much_ wiser than our ancestors. The rappings, the trance mediums, the visions of hands without bodies, the sounding of musical instruments without visible fingers, the miraculous inscriptions on the naked flesh, the enlivenment of furniture,--we have invented none of them, they are all heirlooms. There is surely room for yet another schoolmaster, when a score of seers advertise themselves in Boston newspapers. And if the metaphysicians can never rest till they have taken their watch to pieces and have arrived at a happy positivism as to its structure, though at the risk of bringing it to a no-go, we may be sure that the majority will always take more satisfaction in seeing its hands mysteriously move on, even if they should err a little as to the precise time of day established by the astronomical observatories. Footnotes: [98] Salem Witchcraft, with an Account of Salem Village, and a History of Opinions on Witchcraft and Kindred Subjects. By Charles W. Upham. Boston: Wiggin and Lunt. 1867. 2 vols. Ioannis Wieri de praestigiis daemonum, et incantationibus ac veneficiis libri sex, postrema editione sexta aucti et recogniti. Accessit liber apologeticus et pseudomonarchia daemonum. Cum rerum et verborum copioso indice. Cum Caes. Maiest. Regisq: Galliarum gratia et privelegio. Basiliae ex officina Oporiniani, 1583. Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft: proving the common opinions of Witches contracting with Divels, Spirits, or Familiars; and their power to kill, torment, and consume the bodies of men, women, and children, or other creatures by diseases or otherwise; their flying in the Air, &c.; To be but imaginary Erronious conceptions and novelties; Wherein also the lewde, unchristian practises of Witchmongers, upon aged, melancholy, ignorant and superstitious people in extorting confessions by inhumane terrors and Tortures, is notably detected. Also The knavery and confederacy of Conjurors. The impious blasphemy of Inchanters. The imposture of Soothsayers, and infidelity of Atheists. The delusion of Pythonists, Figure-casters, Astrologers, and vanity of Dreamers. The fruitlesse beggarly art of Alchimistry. The horrible art of Poisoning and all the tricks and conveyances of juggling and lieger-demain are fully deciphered. With many other things opened that have long lain hidden: though very necessary to be known for the undeceiving of Judges, Justices, and Juries, and for the preservation of poor, aged, deformed, ignorant people; frequently taken, arraigned, condemned and executed for Witches, when according to a right understanding, and a good conscience, Physick, Food, and necessaries should be administered to him. Whereunto is added a treatise upon the nature and substance of Spirits and Divels &c., all written and published in Anno 1584. By Reginald Scot, Esquire. Printed by R.C. and are to be sold by Giles Calvert dwelling at the Black Spread-Eagle, at the West-End of Pauls, 1651. De la Demonomanie des Sorciers. A Monseigneur M. Chrestofe De Thou, Chevalier, Seigneur de Coeli, premier President en la Cour de Parlement et Conseiller du Roy en son privé Conseil. Reveu, Corrigé, et augmenté d'une grande partie. Par I. Bodin Angevin. A Paris: Chez Iacques Du Puys, Libraire Iuré, á la Samaritaine. M.D.LXXXVII. Avec privilege du Roy. Magica, seu mirabilium historiarum de Spectris et Apparitionibus spirituum: Item, de magicis et diabolicis incantationibus. De Miraculis, Oraculis, Vaticiniis, Divinationibus, Praedictionibus, Revelationibus et aliis eiusmodi multis ac varijs praestigijs, ludibrijs et imposturis malorum Daemonum. Libri II. Ex probatis et fide dignis historiarum scriptoribus diligenter collecti. Islebiae, cura, Typis et sumptibus Henningi Grossij Bibl. Lipo. 1597. Cum privilegio. The displaying of supposed Witchcraft wherein is affirmed that there are many sorts of Deceivers and Impostors, and divers persons under a passive delusion of Melancholy and Fancy. But that there is a corporeal league made betwixt the Devil and the Witch, or that he sucks on the Witch's body, has carnal copulation, or that Witches are turned into Cats, Dogs, raise Tempests or the like is utterly denied and disproved. Wherein is also handled, The existence of Angels and Spirits, the truth of Apparitions, the Nature of Astral and Sydereal Spirits, the force of Charms and Philters; with other abstruse matters. By John Webster, Practitioner in Physick. Falsa etenim opiniones Hominum non solum surdos sed et coecos faciunt, ita ut videre nequeant quae aliis perspicua apparent. Galen. lib. 8, de Comp. Med. London: Printed by I.M. and are to be sold by the booksellers in London. 1677. Sadducismus Triumphatus: or Full and Plain Evidence concerning Witches and Apparitions. In two Parts. The First treating of their Possibility; the Second of their Real Existence. By Joseph Glanvil, late Chaplain in Ordinary to His Majesty, and Fellow of the Royal Society. The third edition. The advantages whereof above the former, the Reader may understand out of Dr H. More's Account prefixed therunto. With two Authentick, but wonderful Stories of certain Swedish Witches. Done into English by A. Horneck DD. London, Printed for S.L. and are to be sold by Anth. Baskerville at the Bible, the corner of Essex-street, without Temple-Bar. M.DCLXXXIX. Demonologie ou Traitte des Demons et Sorciers: De leur puissance et impuissance: Par Fr. Perraud. Ensemble L'Antidemon de Mascon, ou Histoire Veritable de ce qu'un Demon a fait et dit, il y a quelques années en la maison dudit Sr. Perreaud a Mascon. I. Jacques iv. 7, 8. "Resistez au Diable, et il s'enfuira de vous. Approchez vous de Dieu, et il s'approchera de vous." A Geneve, chez Pierre Aubert. M,DC,LIII. The Wonders of the Invisible World. Being an account of the tryals of several witches lately executed in New-England. By Cotton Mather, D.D. To which is added a farther account of the tryals of the New England Witches. By Increase Mather, D.D., President of Harvard College. London: John Russell Smith, Soho Square. 1862. (First printed in Boston, 1692.) I.N.D.N.J.C. Dissertatio Juridica de Lamiis earumque processu criminali, _Von Hexen und dem Peinl. Proceß wider dieselben_, Quam, auxiliante Divina Gratia, Consensu et Authoritate Magnifici JCtorum Ordinis in illustribus Athenis Salanis sub praesidio Magnifici, Nobilissimi, Amplissimi, Consultissimi, atque Excellentissimi Dn. Ernesti Frider. _Schroeter_ hereditarii in _Wickerstädt_, JCti et Antecessoris hujus Salanae Famigeratissimi, Consiliarii Saxonici, Curiae Provincialis, Facultatis Juridicae, et Scabinatus Assessoris longe Gravissimi, Domini Patroni Praeceptoris et Promotoris sui nullo non honoris et observantiae cultu sanctè devenerandi, colendi, publicae Eruditorum censurae subjicit Michael Paris _Walburger_, Groebzigâ Anhaltinus, in Acroaterio JCtorum ad diem 1. Maj. A. 1670. Editio Tertia. Jenae, Typis Pauli Ehrichii, 1707. Histoire de Diables de Loudun, ou de la Possession des Religieuses Ursulines, et de la condemnation et du suplice d'Urbain Grandier, Curé de la même ville. Cruels effets de la Vengeance du Cardinal de Richelieu. A Amsterdam Aux depens de la Compagnie. M.DCC.LII. A view of the Invisible World, or General History of Apparitions. Collected from the best Authorities, both Antient and Modern, and attested by Authors of the highest Reputation and Credit. Illustrated with a Variety of Notes and parallel Cases; in which some Account of the Nature and Cause of Departed Spirits visiting their former Stations by returning again into the present World, is treated in a Manner different to the prevailing Opinions of Mankind. And an Attempt is made from Rational Principles to account for the Species of such supernatural Appearances, when they may be suppos'd consistent with the Divine Appointment in the Government of the World. With the sentiments of Monsieur Le Clerc, Mr. Locke, Mr. Addison, and Others on this important Subject. In which some humorous and diverting instances are remark'd, in order to divert that Gloom of Melancholy that naturally arises in the Human Mind, from reading or meditating on such Subjects Illustrated with suitable Cuts. London: Printed in the year M,DCC,LII. [Mainly from DeFoe's "History of Apparitions."] Satan's Invisible World discovered; or, a choice Collection of Modern Relations, proving evidently, against the Atheists of this present Age, that there are Devils, Spirits, Witches and Apparitions, from Authentic Records, Attestations of Witnesses, and undoubted Verity. To which is added that marvellous History of Major Weir and his Sister, the Witches of Balgarran, Pittenweem and Calder, &c. By George Sinclair, late Professor of Philosophy in Glasgow. No man should be vain that he can injure the merit of a Book; for the meanest rogue may burn a City or kill a Hero; whereas he could never build the one, or equal the other. Sir George M'Kenzie, Edinburgh: Sold by P. Anderson, Parliament Square. M.DCC.LXXX. La Magie et l'Astrologie dans I'Antiquité et au Moyen Age, ou Étude sur les superstitions païennes qui se sont perpétuées jusqu'a nos jours. Par L.F. Alfred Maury. Troisième Edition revue et corrigée. Paris: Didier. 1864. [99] Lucian, in his "Liars," puts this opinion into the mouth of Arignotus. The theory by which Lucretius seeks to explain apparitions, though materialistic, seems to allow some influence also to the working of imagination. It is hard otherwise to explain how his _simulacra_, (which are not unlike the _astral spirits_ of later times) should appear in dreams. Quae simulacra.... .... nobis vigilantibus obvia mentes terrificant atque in somnis, cum saepe figuras contuimur miras simulacraque luce carentum quae nos horrifice languentis saepe sopore excierunt. _De Rer. Nat._ IV. 33-37, ed. Munro. [100] Pliny's Letters, VII. 27. Melmoth's translation. [101] Something like this is the speech of Don Juan, after the statue of Don Gonzales has gone out: "Pero todas son ideas Que da a la imaginacion El temor; y temer muertos Es muy villano temor. Que si un cuerpo noble, vivo, Con potencias y razon Y con alma no se tema, ¿Quien cuerpos muertos temió?" _El Burlador de Sevilla_, A. iii. s. 15. [102] Théatre Français au Moyen Age (Monmerqué et Michel), pp. 139, 140. [103] "There sat Auld Nick in shape o' beast, A towzy tyke, black, grim, an' large, To gie them music was his charge." [104] Hence, perhaps, the name Valant applied to the Devil, about the origin of which Grimm is in doubt. [105] One foot of the Greek Empusa was an ass's hoof. [106] Salt was forbidden at these witch-feasts. [107] De Lamiis, p. 59 _et seq_. [108] If the _Blokula_ of the Swedish witches be a reminiscence of this, it would seem to point back to remote times and heathen ceremonies. But it is so impossible to distinguish what was put into the mind of those who confessed by their examining torturers from what may have been there before, the result of a common superstition, that perhaps, after all, the meeting on mountains may have been suggested by what Pliny says of the dances of Satyrs on Mount Atlas. [109] Wierus, whose book was published not long after Faust's death, apparently doubted the whole story, for he alludes to it with an _ut fertur,_ and plainly looked on him as a mountebank. [110] See Grimm's D.M., under _Hexenfart, Wutendes Heer_, &c. [111] Some Catholics, indeed, affirmed that he himself was the son of a demon who lodged in his father's house under the semblance of a merchant. Wierus says that a bishop preached to that effect in 1565, and gravely refutes the story. [112] Footnote: Melancthon, however, used to tell of a possessed girl in Italy who knew no Latin, but the Devil in her, being asked by Bonaroico, a Bolognese professor, what was the best verse in Virgil, answered at once:-- "Discite justitiam moniti, et non temnere divos,"-- a somewhat remarkable concession on the part of a fallen angel. [113] This story seems mediaeval and Gothic enough, but is hardly more so than bringing the case of the Furies _v._ Orestes before the Areopagus, and putting Apollo in the witness-box, as Aeschylus has done. The classics, to be sure, are always so classic! In the _Eumenides_, Apollo takes the place of the good angel. And why not? For though a demon, and a lying one, he has crept in to the calendar under his other nnme of Helios as St. Hellas. Could any of his oracles have foretold this? [114] Mr. Leckie, in his admirable chapter on Witchcraft, gives a little more credit to the enlightenment of the Church of England in this matter than it would seem fairly to deserve. More and Glanvil were faithful sons of the Church; and if the persecution of witches was especially rife during the ascendency of the Puritans, it was because they happened to be in power while there was a reaction against Sadducism. All the convictions were under the statute of James I., who was no Puritan. After the restoration, the reaction was the other way, and Hobbism became the fashion. It is more philosophical to say that the age believes this and that, than that the particular men who live in it do so. [115] I have no means of ascertaining whether he did or not. He was more probably charged with it by the inquisitors. Mr. Leckie seems to write of him only upon hearsay, for he calls him Peter "of Apono," apparently translating a French translation of the Latin "Aponus." The only book attributed to him that I have ever seen is itself a kind of manual of magic. [116] "With the names and surnames," says Bodin, indignantly, "of seventy-two princes, and of seven million four hundred and five thousand nine hundred and twenty-six devils, _errors excepted_." [117] Cited by Maury, p. 221, note 4. [118] There is a kind of compensation in the fact that he himself lived to be accused of sorcery and Judaism. SHAKESPEARE ONCE MORE. It may be doubted whether any language be rich enough to maintain more than one truly great poet,--and whether there be more than one period, and that very short, in the life of a language, when such a phenomenon as a great poet is possible. It may be reckoned one of the rarest pieces of good-luck that ever fell to the share of a race, that (as was true of Shakespeare) its most rhythmic genius, its acutest intellect, its profoundest imagination, and its healthiest understanding should have been combined in one man, and that he should have arrived at the full development of his powers at the moment when the material in which he was to work--that wonderful composite called English, the best result of the confusion of tongues--was in its freshest perfection. The English-speaking nations should build a monument to the misguided enthusiasts of the Plain of Shinar; for, as the mixture of many bloods seems to have made them the most vigorous of modern races, so has the mingling of divers speeches given them a language which is perhaps the noblest vehicle of poetic thought that ever existed. Had Shakespeare been born fifty years earlier, he would have been cramped by a book-language not yet flexible enough for the demands of rhythmic emotion, not yet sufficiently popularized for the natural and familiar expression of supreme thought, not yet so rich in metaphysical phrase as to render possible that ideal representation of the great passions which is the aim and end of Art, not yet subdued by practice and general consent to a definiteness of accentuation essential to ease and congruity of metrical arrangement. Had he been born fifty years later, his ripened manhood would have found itself in an England absorbed and angry with the solution of political and religious problems, from which his whole nature was averse, instead of in that Elizabethan social system, ordered and planetary in functions and degrees as the angelic hierarchy of the Areopagite, where his contemplative eye could crowd itself with various and brilliant picture, and whence his impartial brain--one lobe of which seems to have been Normanly refined and the other Saxonly sagacious--could draw its morals of courtly and worldly wisdom, its lessons of prudence and magnanimity. In estimating Shakespeare, it should never be forgotten, that, like Goethe, he was essentially observer and artist, and incapable of partisanship. The passions, actions, sentiments, whose character and results he delighted to watch and to reproduce, are those of man in society as it existed; and it no more occurred to him to question the right of that society to exist than to criticise the divine ordination of the seasons. His business was with men as they were, not with man as he ought to be,--with the human soul as it is shaped or twisted into character by the complex experience of life, not in its abstract essence, as something to be saved or lost. During the first half of the seventeenth century, the centre of intellectual interest was rather in the other world than in this, rather in the region of thought and principle and conscience than in actual life. It was a generation in which the poet was, and felt himself, out of place. Sir Thomas Browne, out most imaginative mind since Shakespeare, found breathing-room, for a time, among the "_O altitudines!_" of religious speculation, but soon descended to occupy himself with the exactitudes of science. Jeremy Taylor, who half a century earlier would have been Fletcher's rival, compels his clipped fancy to the conventual discipline of prose, (Maid Marian turned nun,) and waters his poetic wine with doctrinal eloquence. Milton is saved from making total shipwreck of his large-utteranced genius on the desolate Noman's Land of a religious epic only by the lucky help of Satan and his colleagues, with whom, as foiled rebels and republicans, he cannot conceal his sympathy. As purely poet, Shakespeare would have come too late, had his lot fallen in that generation. In mind and temperament too exoteric for a mystic, his imagination could not have at once illustrated the influence of his epoch and escaped from it, like that of Browne; the equilibrium of his judgment, essential to him as an artist, but equally removed from propagandism, whether as enthusiast or logician, would have unfitted him for the pulpit; and his intellectual being was too sensitive to the wonder and beauty of outward life and Nature to have found satisfaction, as Milton's could, (and perhaps only by reason of his blindness,) in a world peopled by purely imaginary figures. We might fancy him becoming a great statesman, but he lacked the social position which could have opened that career to him. What we mean when we say _Shakespeare_, is something inconceivable either during the reign of Henry the Eighth, or the Commonwealth, and which would have been impossible after the Restoration. All favorable stars seem to have been in conjunction at his nativity. The Reformation had passed the period of its vinous fermentation, and its clarified results remained as an element of intellectual impulse and exhilaration; there were small signs yet of the acetous and putrefactive stages which were to follow in the victory and decline of Puritanism. Old forms of belief and worship still lingered, all the more touching to Fancy, perhaps, that they were homeless and attainted; the light of sceptic day was baffled by depths of forest where superstitious shapes still cowered, creatures of immemorial wonder, the raw material of Imagination. The invention of printing, without yet vulgarizing letters, had made the thought and history of the entire past contemporaneous; while a crowd of translators put every man who could read in inspiring contact with the select souls of all the centuries. A new world was thus opened to intellectual adventure at the very time when the keel of Columbus had turned the first daring furrow of discovery in that unmeasured ocean which still girt the known earth with a beckoning horizon of hope and conjecture, which was still fed by rivers that flowed down out of primeval silences, and which still washed the shores of Dreamland. Under a wise, cultivated, and firm-handed monarch also, the national feeling of England grew rapidly more homogeneous and intense, the rather as the womanhood of the sovereign stimulated a more chivalric loyalty,--while the new religion, of which she was the defender, helped to make England morally, as it was geographically, insular to the continent of Europe. If circumstances could ever make a great national poet, here were all the elements mingled at melting-heat in the alembic, and the lucky moment of projection was clearly come. If a great national poet could ever avail himself of circumstances, this was the occasion,--and, fortunately, Shakespeare was equal to it. Above all, we may esteem it lucky that he found words ready to his use, original and untarnished,--types of thought whose sharp edges were unworn by repeated impressions. In reading Hakluyt's Voyages, we are almost startled now and then to find that even common sailors could not tell the story of their wanderings without rising to an almost Odyssean strain, and habitually used a diction that we should be glad to buy back from desuetude at any cost. Those who look upon language only as anatomists of its structure, or who regard it as only a means of conveying abstract truth from mind to mind, as if it were so many algebraic formulae, are apt to overlook the fact that its being alive is all that gives it poetic value. We do not mean what is technically called a living language,--the contrivance, hollow as a speaking-trumpet, by which breathing and moving bipeds, even now, sailing o'er life's solemn main, are enabled to hail each other and make known their mutual shortness of mental stores,--but one that is still hot from the hearts and brains of a people, not hardened yet, but moltenly ductile to new shapes of sharp and clear relief in the moulds of new thought. So soon as a language has become literary, so soon as there is a gap between the speech of books and that of life, the language becomes, so far as poetry is concerned, almost as dead as Latin, and (as in writing Latin verses) a mind in itself essentially original becomes in the use of such a medium of utterance unconsciously reminiscential and reflective, lunar and not solar, in expression and even in thought. For words and thoughts have a much more intimate and genetic relation, one with the other, than most men have any notion of; and it is one thing to use our mother-tongue as if it belonged to us, and another to be the puppets of an overmastering vocabulary. "Ye know not," says Ascham, "what hurt ye do to Learning, that care not for Words, but for Matter, and so make a Divorce betwixt the Tongue and the Heart." _Lingua Toscana in bocca Romana_ is the Italian proverb; and that of poets should be, _The tongue of the people in the mouth of the scholar_. I imply here no assent to the early theory, _or,_ at any rate, practice, of Wordsworth, who confounded plebeian modes of thought with rustic forms of phrase, and then atoned for his blunder by absconding into a diction more Latinized than that of any poet of his century. Shakespeare was doubly fortunate. Saxon by the father and Norman by the mother, he was a representative Englishman. A country boy, he learned first the rough and ready English of his rustic mates, who knew how to make nice verbs and adjectives courtesy to their needs. Going up to London, he acquired the _lingua aulica_ precisely at the happiest moment, just as it was becoming, in the strictest sense of the word, _modern,_--just as it had recruited itself, by fresh impressments from the Latin and Latinized languages, with new words to express the new ideas of an enlarging intelligence which printing and translation were fast making cosmopolitan,--words which, in proportion to their novelty, and to the fact that the mother-tongue and the foreign had not yet wholly mingled, must have been used with a more exact appreciation of their meaning.[119] It was in London, and chiefly by means of the stage, that a thorough amalgamation of the Saxon, Norman, and scholarly elements of English was brought about. Already, Puttenham, in his "Arte of English Poesy," declares that the practice of the capital and the country within sixty miles of it was the standard of correct diction, the _jus et norma loquendi._ Already Spenser had almost re-created English poetry,--and it is interesting to observe, that, scholar as he was, the archaic words which he was at first overfond of introducing are often provincialisms of purely English original. Already Marlowe had brought the English unrhymed pentameter (which had hitherto justified but half its name, by being always blank and never verse) to a perfection of melody, harmony, and variety which has never been surpassed. Shakespeare, then, found a language already to a certain extent _established_, but not yet fetlocked by dictionary and grammar mongers,--a versification harmonized, but which had not yet exhausted all its modulations, nor been set in the stocks by critics who deal judgment on refractory feet, that will dance to Orphean measures of which their judges are insensible. That the language was established is proved by its comparative uniformity as used by the dramatists, who wrote for mixed audiences, as well as by Ben Jonson's satire upon Marston's neologisms; that it at the same time admitted foreign words to the rights of citizenship on easier terms than now is in good measure equally true. What was of greater import, no arbitrary line had been drawn between high words and low; vulgar then meant simply what was common; poetry had not been aliened from the people by the establishment of an Upper House of vocables, alone entitled to move in the stately ceremonials of verse, and privileged from arrest while they forever keep the promise of meaning to the ear and break it to the sense. The hot conception of the poet had no time to cool while he was debating the comparative respectability of this phrase or that; but he snatched what word his instinct prompted, and saw no indiscretion in making a king speak as his country nurse might have taught him.[120] It was Waller who first learned in France that to talk in rhyme alone comported with the state of royalty. In the time of Shakespeare, the living tongue resembled that tree which Father Huc saw in Tartary, whose leaves were languaged,--and every hidden root of thought, every subtilest fibre of feeling, was mated by new shoots and leafage of expression, fed from those unseen sources in the common earth of human nature. The Cabalists had a notion, that whoever found out the mystic word for anything attained to absolute mastery over that thing. The reverse of this is certainly true of poetic expression; for he who is thoroughly possessed of his thought, who imaginatively conceives an idea or image, becomes master of the word that shall most amply and fitly utter it. Heminge and Condell tell us, accordingly, that there was scarce a blot in the manuscripts they received from Shakespeare; and this is the natural corollary from the fact that such an imagination as his is as unparalleled as the force, variety, and beauty of the phrase in which it embodied itself.[121] We believe that Shakespeare, like all other great poets, instinctively used the dialect which he found current, and that his words are not more wrested from their ordinary meaning than followed necessarily from the unwonted weight of thought or stress of passion they were called on to support. He needed not to mask familiar thoughts in the weeds of unfamiliar phraseology; for the life that was in his mind could transfuse the language of every day with an intelligent vivacity, that makes it seem lambent with fiery purpose, and at each new reading a new creation. He could say with Dante, that "no word had ever forced him to say what he would not, though he had forced many a word to say what _it_ would not,"--but only in the sense that the mighty magic of his imagination had conjured out of it its uttermost secret of power or pathos. When I say that Shakespeare used the current language of his day, I mean only that he habitually employed such language as was universally comprehensible,--that he was not run away with by the hobby of any theory as to the fitness of this or that component of English for expressing certain thoughts or feelings. That the artistic value of a choice and noble diction was quite as well understood in his day as in ours is evident from the praises bestowed by his contemporaries on Drayton, and by the epithet "well-languaged" applied to Daniel, whose poetic style is as modern as that of Tennyson; but the endless absurdities about the comparative merits of Saxon and Norman-French, vented by persons incapable of distinguishing one tongue from the other, were as yet unheard of. Hasty generalizers are apt to overlook the fact, that the Saxon was never, to any great extent, a literary language. Accordingly, it held its own very well in the names of common things, but failed to answer the demands of complex ideas, derived from them. The author of "Piers Ploughman" wrote for the people,--Chaucer for the court. We open at random and count the Latin[122] words in ten verses of the "Vision" and ten of the "Romaunt of the Rose," (a translation from the French,) and find the proportion to be seven in the former and five in the latter. The organs of the Saxon have always been unwilling and stiff in learning languages. He acquired only about as many British words as we have Indian ones, and I believe that more French and Latin was introduced through the pen and the eye than through the tongue and the ear. For obvious reasons, the question is one that must be decided by reference to prose-writers, and not poets; and it is, we think, pretty well settled that more words of Latin original were brought into the language in the century between 1550 and 1650 than in the whole period before or since,--and for the simple reason, that they were absolutely needful to express new modes and combinations of thought.[123] The language has gained immensely, by the infusion, in richness of synonyme and in the power of expressing nice shades of thought and feeling, but more than all in light-footed polysyllables that trip singing to the music of verse. There are certain cases, it is true, where the vulgar Saxon word is refined, and the refined Latin vulgar, in poetry,--as in _sweat_ and _perspiration_; but there are vastly more in which the Latin bears the bell. Perhaps there might be a question between the old English _again-rising_ and _resurrection;_ but there can be no doubt that _conscience_ is better than _inwit_, and _remorse_ than _again-bite_. Should we translate the title of Wordsworth's famous ode, "Intimations of Immortality," into "Hints of Deathlessness," it would hiss like an angry gander. If, instead of Shakespeare's "Age cannot wither her, Nor custom stale her infinite variety," we should say, "her boundless manifoldness," the sentiment would suffer in exact proportion with the music. What homebred English could ape the high Roman fashion of such togated words as "The multitudinous sea incarnadine,"-- where the huddling epithet implies the tempest-tossed soul of the speaker, and at the same time pictures the wallowing waste of ocean more vividly than the famous phrase of Aeschylus does its rippling sunshine? Again, _sailor_ is less poetical than _mariner_, as Campbell felt, when he wrote, "Ye mariners of England," and Coleridge, when he chose "It was an ancient mariner," rather than "It was an elderly seaman"; for it is as much the charm of poetry that it suggest a certain remoteness and strangeness as familiarity; and it is essential not only that we feel at once the meaning of the words in themselves, but also their melodic meaning in relation to each other, and to the sympathetic variety of the verse. A word once vulgarized can never be rehabilitated. We might say now a _buxom_ lass, or that a chambermaid was _buxom_, but we could not use the term, as Milton did, in its original sense of _bowsome_,--that is, _lithe, gracefully bending_.[124] But the secret of force in writing lies not so much in the pedigree of nouns and adjectives and verbs, as in having something that you believe in to say, and making the parts of speech vividly conscious of it. It is when expression becomes an act of memory, instead of an unconscious necessity, that diction takes the place of warm and hearty speech. It is not safe to attribute special virtues (as Bosworth, for example, does to the Saxon) to words of whatever derivation, at least in poetry. Because Lear's "oak-cleaving thunderbolts," and "the all-dreaded thunder-stone" in "Cymbeline" are so fine, we would not give up Milton's Virgilian "fulmined over Greece," where the verb in English conveys at once the idea of flash and reverberation, but avoids that of riving and shattering. In the experiments made for casting the great bell for the Westminster Tower, it was found that the superstition which attributed the remarkable sweetness and purity of tone in certain old bells to the larger mixture of silver in their composition had no foundation in fact It was the cunning proportion in which the ordinary metals were balanced against each other, the perfection of form, and the nice gradations of thickness, that wrought the miracle. And it is precisely so with the language of poetry. The genius of the poet will tell him what word to use (else what use in his being poet at all?); and even then, unless the proportion and form, whether of parts or whole, be all that Art requires and the most sensitive taste finds satisfaction in, he will have failed to make what shall vibrate through all its parts with a silvery unison,--in other words, a poem. I think the component parts of English were in the latter years of Elizabeth thus exquisitely proportioned one to the other. Yet Bacon had no faith in his mother-tongue, translating the works on which his fame was to rest into what he called "the universal language," and affirming that "English would bankrupt all our books." He was deemed a master of it, nevertheless; and it is curious that Ben Jonson applies to him in prose the same commendation which he gave Shakespeare in verse, saying, that he "performed that in our tongue which may be compared or preferred either to _insolent Greece or haughty Rome_"; and he adds this pregnant sentence: "In short, within his view and about his time were all the wits born that could honor a language or help study. Now things daily fall: wits grow downwards, eloquence grows backwards." Ben had good reason for what he said of the wits. Not to speak of science, of Galileo and Kepler, the sixteenth century was a spendthrift of literary genius. An attack of immortality in a family might have been looked for then as scarlet-fever would be now. Montaigne, Tasso, and Cervantes were born within fourteen years of each other; and in England, while Spenser was still delving over the _propria quae maribus_, and Raleigh launching paper navies, Shakespeare was stretching his baby hands for the moon, and the little Bacon, chewing on his coral, had discovered that impenetrability was one quality of matter. It almost takes one's breath away to think that "Hamlet" and the "Novum Organon" were at the risk of teething and measles at the same time. But Ben was right also in thinking that eloquence had grown backwards. He lived long enough to see the language of verse become in a measure traditionary and conventional. It was becoming so, partly from the necessary order of events, partly because the most natural and intense expression of feeling had been in so many ways satisfied and exhausted,--but chiefly because there was no man left to whom, as to Shakespeare, perfect conception gave perfection of phrase. Dante, among modern poets, his only rival in condensed force, says: "Optimis conceptionibus optima loquela conveniet; sed optimae conceptiones non possunt esse nisi ubi scientia et ingenium est; ... et sic non omnibus versificantibus optima loquela convenit, cum plerique sine scientiâ et ingenio versificantur."[125] Shakespeare must have been quite as well aware of the provincialism of English as Bacon was; but he knew that great poetry, being universal in its appeal to human nature, can make any language classic, and that the men whose appreciation is immortality will mine through any dialect to get at an original soul. He had as much confidence in his home-bred speech as Bacon had want of it, and exclaims:-- "Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme." He must have been perfectly conscious of his genius, and of the great trust which he imposed upon his native tongue as the embodier and perpetuator of it. As he has avoided obscurities in his sonnets, he would do so _a fortiori_ in his plays, both for the purpose of immediate effect on the stage and of future appreciation. Clear thinking makes clear writing, and he who has shown himself so eminently capable of it in one case is not to be supposed to abdicate intentionally in others. The difficult passages in the plays, then, are to be regarded either as corruptions, or else as phenomena in the natural history of Imagination, whose study will enable us to arrive at a clearer theory and better understanding of it. While I believe that our language had two periods of culmination in poetic beauty,--one of nature, simplicity, and truth, in the ballads, which deal only with narrative and feeling,--another of Art, (or Nature as it is ideally reproduced through the imagination,) of stately amplitude, of passionate intensity and elevation, in Spenser and the greater dramatists,--and that Shakespeare made use of the latter as he found it, I by no means intend to say that he did not enrich it, or that any inferior man could have dipped the same words out of the great poet's inkstand. But he enriched it only by the natural expansion and exhilaration of which it was conscious, in yielding to the mastery of a genius that could turn and wind it like a fiery Pegasus, making it feel its life in every limb. He enriched it through that exquisite sense of music, (never approached but by Marlowe,) to which it seemed eagerly obedient, as if every word said to him, "_Bid me_ discourse, I will enchant thine ear,"-- as if every latent harmony revealed itself to him as the gold to Brahma, when he walked over the earth where it was hidden, crying, "Here am I, Lord! do with me what thou wilt!" That he used language with that intimate possession of its meaning possible only to the most vivid thought is doubtless true; but that he wantonly strained it from its ordinary sense, that he found it too poor for his necessities, and accordingly coined new phrases, or that, from haste or carelessness, he violated any of its received proprieties, I do not believe. I have said that it was fortunate for him that he came upon an age when our language was at its best; but it was fortunate also for us, because our costliest poetic phrase is put beyond reach of decay in the gleaming precipitate in which it united itself with his thought. That the propositions I have endeavored to establish have a direct bearing in various ways upon the qualifications of whoever undertakes to edit the works of Shakespeare will, I think, be apparent to those who consider the matter. The hold which Shakespeare has acquired and maintained upon minds so many and so various, in so many vital respects utterly unsympathetic and even incapable of sympathy with his own, is one of the most noteworthy phenomena in the history of literature. That he has had the most inadequate of editors, that, as his own Falstaff was the cause of the wit, so he has been the cause of the foolishness that was in other men, (as where Malone ventured to discourse upon his metres, and Dr. Johnson on his imagination,) must be apparent to every one,--and also that his genius and its manifestations are so various, that there is no commentator but has been able to illustrate him from his own peculiar point of view or from the results of his own favorite studies. But to show that he was a good common lawyer, that he understood the theory of colors, that he was an accurate botanist, a master of the science of medicine, especially in its relation to mental disease, a profound metaphysician, and of great experience and insight in politics,--all these, while they may very well form the staple of separate treatises, and prove, that, whatever the extent of his learning, the range and accuracy of his knowledge were beyond precedent or later parallel, are really outside the province of an editor. We doubt if posterity owe a greater debt to any two men living in 1623 than to the two obscure actors who in that year published the first folio edition of Shakespeare's plays. But for them, it is more than likely that such of his works as had remained to that time unprinted would have been irrecoverably lost, and among them were "Julius Caesar," "The Tempest," and "Macbeth." But are we to believe them when they assert that they present to us the plays which they reprinted from stolen and surreptitious copies "cured and perfect of their limbs," and those which are original in their edition "absolute in their numbers as he [Shakespeare] conceived them"? Alas, we have read too many theatrical announcements, have been taught too often that the value of the promise was in an inverse ratio to the generosity of the exclamation-marks, too easily to believe that! Nay, we have seen numberless processions of healthy kine enter our native village unheralded save by the lusty shouts of drovers, while a wretched calf, cursed by stepdame Nature with two heads, was brought to us in a triumphal car, avant-couriered by a band of music as abnormal as itself, and announced as the greatest wonder of the age. If a double allowance of vituline brains deserve such honor, there are few commentators on Shakespeare that would have gone afoot, and the trumpets of Messieurs Heminge and Condell call up in our minds too many monstrous and deformed associations. What, then, is the value of the first folio as an authority? For eighteen of the plays it is the only authority we have, and the only one also for four others in their complete form. It is admitted that in several instances Heminge and Condell reprinted the earlier quarto impressions with a few changes, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse; and it is most probable that copies of those editions (whether surreptitious or not) had taken the place of the original prompter's books, as being more convenient and legible. Even in these cases it is not safe to conclude that all or even any of the variations were made by the hand of Shakespeare himself. And where the players printed from manuscript, is it likely to have been that of the author? The probability is small that a writer so busy as Shakespeare must have been during his productive period should have copied out their parts for the actors himself, or that one so indifferent as he seems to have been to the immediate literary fortunes of his works should have given much care to the correction of copies, if made by others. The copies exclusively in the hands of Heminge and Condell were, it is manifest, in some cases, very imperfect, whether we account for the fact by the burning of the Globe Theatre or by the necessary wear and tear of years, and (what is worthy of notice) they are plainly more defective in some parts than in others. "Measure for Measure" is an example of this, and we are not satisfied with being told that its ruggedness of verse is intentional, or that its obscurity is due to the fact that Shakespeare grew more elliptical in his style as he grew older. Profounder in thought he doubtless became; though in a mind like his, we believe that this would imply only a more absolute supremacy in expression. But, from whatever original we suppose either the quartos or the first folio to have been printed, it is more than questionable whether the proof-sheets had the advantage of any revision other than that of the printing-office. Steevens was of opinion that authors in the time of Shakespeare never read their own proof-sheets; and Mr. Spedding, in his recent edition of Bacon, comes independently to the same conclusion.[126] We may be very sure that Heminge and Condell did not, as vicars, take upon themselves a disagreeable task which the author would have been too careless to assume. Nevertheless, however strong a case may be made out against the Folio of 1623, whatever sins of omission we may lay to the charge of Heminge and Condell, or of commission to that of the printers, it remains the only text we have with any claims whatever to authenticity. It should be deferred to as authority in all cases where it does not make Shakespeare write bad sense, uncouth metre, or false grammar, of all which we believe him to have been more supremely incapable than any other man who ever wrote English. Yet we would not speak unkindly even of the blunders of the Folio. They have put bread into the mouth of many an honest editor, publisher, and printer for the last century and a half; and he who loves the comic side of human nature will find the serious notes of a _variorum_ edition of Shakespeare as funny reading as the funny ones are serious. Scarce a commentator of them all, for more than a hundred years, but thought, as Alphonso of Castile did of Creation, that, if he had only been at Shakespeare's elbow, he could have given valuable advice; scarce one who did not know off-hand that there was never a seaport in Bohemia,--as if Shakespeare's world were one which Mercator could have projected; scarce one but was satisfied that his ten finger-tips were a sufficient key to those astronomic wonders of poise and counterpoise, of planetary law and cometary seeming-exception, in his metres; scarce one but thought he could gauge like an ale-firkin that intuition whose edging shallows may have been sounded, but whose abysses, stretching down amid the sunless roots of Being and Consciousness, mock the plummet; scarce one but could speak with condescending approval of that prodigious intelligence so utterly without congener that our baffled language must coin an adjective to qualify it, and none is so audacious as to say Shakesperian of any other. And yet, in the midst of our impatience, we cannot help thinking also of how much healthy mental activity this one man has been the occasion, how much good he has indirectly done to society by withdrawing men to investigations and habits of thought that secluded them from baser attractions, for how many he has enlarged the circle of study and reflection; since there is nothing in history or politics, nothing in art or science, nothing in physics or metaphysics, that is not sooner or later taxed for his illustration. This is partially true of all great minds, open and sensitive to truth and beauty through any large arc of their circumference; but it is true in an unexampled sense of Shakespeare, the vast round of whose balanced nature seems to have been equatorial, and to have had a southward exposure and a summer sympathy at every point, so that life, society, statecraft, serve us at last but as commentaries on him, and whatever we have gathered of thought, of knowledge, and of experience, confronted with his marvellous page, shrinks to a mere foot-note, the stepping-stone to some hitherto inaccessible verse. We admire in Homer the blind placid mirror of the world's young manhood, the bard who escapes from his misfortune in poems all memory, all life and bustle, adventure and picture; we revere in Dante that compressed force of lifelong passion which could make a private experience cosmopolitan in its reach and everlasting in its significance; we respect in Goethe the Aristotelian poet, wise by weariless observation, witty with intention, the stately _Geheimerrath_ of a provincial court in the empire of Nature. As we study these, we seem in our limited way to penetrate into their consciousness and to measure and master their methods; but with Shakespeare it is just the other way; the more we have familiarized ourselves with the operations of our own consciousness, the more do we find, in reading him, that he has been beforehand with us, and that, while we have been vainly endeavoring to find the door of his being, he has searched every nook and cranny of our own. While other poets and dramatists embody isolated phases of character and work inward from the phenomenon to the special law which it illustrates, he seems in some strange way unitary with human nature itself, and his own soul to have been the law and life-giving power of which his creations are only the phenomena. We justify or criticise the characters of other writers by our memory and experience, and pronounce them natural or unnatural; but he seems to have worked in the very stuff of which memory and experience are made, and we recognize his truth to Nature by an innate and unacquired sympathy, as if he alone possessed the secret of the "ideal form and universal mould," and embodied generic types rather than individuals. In this Cervantes alone has approached him; and Don Quixote and Sancho, like the men and women of Shakespeare, are the contemporaries of every generation, because they are not products of an artificial and transitory society, but because they are animated by the primeval and unchanging forces of that humanity which underlies and survives the forever-fickle creeds and ceremonials of the parochial corners which we who dwell in them sublimely call The World. That Shakespeare did not edit his own works must be attributed, we suspect, to his premature death. That he should not have intended it is inconceivable. Is there not something of self-consciousness in the breaking of Prospero's wand and burying his book,--a sort of sad prophecy, based on self-knowledge of the nature of that man who, after such thaumaturgy, could go down to Stratford and live there for years, only collecting his dividends from the Globe Theatre, lending money on mortgage, and leaning over his gate to chat and bandy quips with neighbors? His mind had entered into every phase of human life and thought, had embodied all of them in living creations;--had he found all empty, and come at last to the belief that genius and its works were as phantasmagoric as the rest, and that fame was as idle as the rumor of the pit? However this may be, his works have come down to us in a condition of manifest and admitted corruption in some portions, while in others there is an obscurity which may be attributed either to an idiosyncratic use of words and condensation of phrase, to a depth of intuition for a proper coalescence with which ordinary language is inadequate, to a concentration of passion in a focus that consumes the lighter links which bind together the clauses of a sentence or of a process of reasoning in common parlance, or to a sense of music which mingles music and meaning without essentially confounding them. We should demand for a perfect editor, then, first, a thorough glossological knowledge of the English contemporary with Shakespeare; second, enough logical acuteness of mind and metaphysical training to enable him to follow recondite processes of thought; third, such a conviction of the supremacy of his author as always to prefer his thought to any theory of his own; fourth, a feeling for music, and so much knowledge of the practice of other poets as to understand that Shakespeare's versification differs from theirs as often in kind as in degree; fifth, an acquaintance with the world as well as with books; and last, what is, perhaps, of more importance than all, so great a familiarity with the working of the imaginative faculty in general, and of its peculiar operation in the mind of Shakespeare, as will prevent his thinking a passage dark with excess of light, and enable him to understand fully that the Gothic Shakespeare often superimposed upon the slender column of a single word, that seems to twist under it, but does not,--like the quaint shafts in cloisters,--a weight of meaning which the modern architects of sentences would consider wholly unjustifiable by correct principle. Many years ago, while yet Fancy claimed that right in me which Fact has since, to my no small loss, so successfully disputed, I pleased myself with imagining the play of Hamlet published under some _alias_, and as the work of a new candidate in literature. Then I _played_, as the children say, that it came in regular course before some well-meaning doer of criticisms, who had never read the original, (no very wild assumption, as things go,) and endeavored to conceive the kind of way in which he would be likely to take it. I put myself in his place, and tried to write such a perfunctory notice as I thought would be likely, in filling his column, to satisfy his conscience. But it was a _tour de force_ quite beyond my power to execute without grimace. I could not arrive at that artistic absorption in my own conception which would enable me to be natural, and found myself, like a bad actor, continually betraying my self-consciousness by my very endeavor to hide it under caricature. The path of Nature is indeed a narrow one, and it is only the immortals that seek it, and, when they find it, do not find themselves cramped therein. My result was a dead failure,--satire instead of comedy. I could not shake off that strange accumulation which we call self, and report honestly what I saw and felt even to myself, much less to others. Yet I have often thought, that, unless we can so far free ourselves from our own prepossessions as to be capable of bringing to a work of art some freshness of sensation, and receiving from it in turn some new surprise of sympathy and admiration,--some shock even, it may be, of instinctive distaste and repulsion,--though we may praise or blame, weighing our _pros_ and _cons_ in the nicest balances, sealed by proper authority, yet we shall not criticise in the highest sense. On the other hand, unless we admit certain principles as fixed beyond question, we shall be able to render no adequate judgment, but only to record our impressions, which may be valuable or not, according to the greater or less ductility of the senses on which they are made. Charles Lamb, for example, came to the old English dramatists with the feeling of a discoverer. He brought with him an alert curiosity, and everything was delightful simply because it was strange. Like other early adventurers, he sometimes mistook shining sand for gold; but he had the great advantage of not feeling himself responsible for the manners of the inhabitants he found there, and not thinking it needful to make them square with any Westminster Catechism of aesthetics. Best of all, he did not feel compelled to compare them with the Greeks, about whom he knew little, and cared less. He took them as he found them, described them in a few pregnant sentences, and displayed his specimens of their growth, and manufacture. When he arrived at the dramatists of the Restoration, so far from being shocked, he was charmed with their pretty and unmoral ways; and what he says of them reminds us of blunt Captain Dampier, who, in his account of the island of Timor, remarks, as a matter of no consequence, that the natives "take as many wives as they can maintain, and as for religion, they have none." Lamb had the great advantage of seeing the elder dramatists as they were; it did not lie within his province to point out what they were not. Himself a fragmentary writer, he had more sympathy with imagination where it gathers into the intense focus of passionate phrase than with that higher form of it, where it is the faculty that shapes, gives unity of design and balanced gravitation of parts. And yet it is only this higher form of it which can unimpeachably assure to any work the dignity and permanence of a classic; for it results in that exquisite something called Style, which, like the grace of perfect breeding, everywhere pervasive and nowhere emphatic, makes itself felt by the skill with which it effaces itself, and masters us at last with a sense of indefinable completeness. On a lower plane we may detect it in the structure of a sentence, in the limpid expression that implies sincerity of thought; but it is only where it combines and organizes, where it eludes observation in particulars to give the rarer delight of perfection as a whole, that it belongs to art. Then it is truly ideal, the _forma mentis aeterna,_ not as a passive mould into which the thought is poured, but as the conceptive energy which finds all material plastic to its preconceived design. Mere vividness of expression, such as makes quotable passages, comes of the complete surrender of self to the impression, whether spiritual or sensual, of the moment. It is a quality, perhaps, in which the young poet is richer than the mature, his very inexperience making him more venturesome in those leaps of language that startle us with their rashness only to bewitch us the more with the happy ease of their accomplishment. For this there are no existing laws of rhetoric, for it is from such felicities that the rhetoricians deduce and codify their statutes. It is something which cannot be improved upon or cultivated, for it is immediate and intuitive. But this power of expression is subsidiary, and goes only a little way toward the making of a great poet. Imagination, where it is truly creative, is a faculty, and not a quality; it looks before and after, it gives the form that makes all the parts work together harmoniously toward a given end, its seat is in the higher reason, and it is efficient only as a servant of the will. Imagination, as it is too often misunderstood, is mere fantasy, the image-making power, common to all who have the gift of dreams, or who can afford to buy it in a vulgar drug as De Quincey bought it. The true poetic imagination is of one quality, whether it be ancient or modern, and equally subject to those laws of grace, of proportion, of design, in whose free service, and in that alone, it can become art. Those laws are something which do not "Alter when they alteration find, And bend with the remover to remove." And they are more clearly to be deduced from the eminent examples of Greek literature than from any other source. It is the advantage of this select company of ancients that their works are defecated of all turbid mixture of contemporaneousness, and have become to us pure _literature_, our judgment and enjoyment of which cannot be vulgarized by any prejudices of time or place. This is why the study of them is fitly called a liberal education, because it emancipates the mind from every narrow provincialism whether of egoism or tradition, and is the apprenticeship that every one must serve before becoming a free brother of the guild which passes the torch of life from age to age. There would be no dispute about the advantages of that Greek culture which Schiller advocated with such generous eloquence, if the great authors of antiquity had not been degraded from teachers of thinking to drillers in grammar, and made the ruthless pedagogues of root and inflection, instead of companions for whose society the mind must put on her highest mood. The discouraged youth too naturally transfers the epithet of _dead_ from the languages to the authors that wrote in them. What concern have we with the shades of dialect in Homer or Theocritus, provided they speak the spiritual _lingua franca_ that abolishes all alienage of race, and makes whatever shore of time we land on hospitable and homelike? There is much that is deciduous in books, but all that gives them a title to rank as literature in the highest sense is perennial. Their vitality is the vitality not of one or another blood or tongue, but of human nature; their truth is not topical and transitory, but of universal acceptation; and thus all great authors seem the coevals not only of each other, but of whoever reads them, growing wiser with him as he grows wise, and unlocking to him one secret after another as his own life and experience give him the key, but on no other condition. Their meaning is absolute, not conditional; it is a property of _theirs_, quite irrespective of manners or creed; for the highest culture, the development of the individual by observation, reflection, and study, leads to one result, whether in Athens or in London. The more we know of ancient literature, the more we are struck with its modernness, just as the more we study the maturer dramas of Shakespeare, the more we feel his nearness in certain primary qualities to the antique and classical. Yet even in saying this, I tacitly make the admission that it is the Greeks who must furnish us with our standard of comparison. Their stamp is upon all the allowed measures and weights of aesthetic criticism. Nor does a consciousness of this, nor a constant reference to it, in any sense reduce us to the mere copying of a bygone excellence; for it is the test of excellence in any department of art, that it can never be bygone, and it is not mere difference from antique models, but the _way_ in which that difference is shown, the direction it takes, that we are to consider in our judgment of a modern work. The model is not there to be copied merely, but that the study of it may lead us insensibly to the same processes of thought by which its purity of outline and harmony of parts were attained, and enable us to feel that strength is consistent with repose, that multiplicity is not abundance, that grace is but a more refined form of power, and that a thought is none the less profound that the limpidity of its expression allows us to measure it at a glance. To be possessed with this conviction gives us at least a determinate point of view, and enables us to appeal a case of taste to a court of final judicature, whose decisions are guided by immutable principles. When we hear of certain productions, that they are feeble in design, but masterly in parts, that they are incoherent, to be sure, but have great merits of style, we know that it cannot be true; for in the highest examples we have, the master is revealed by his plan, by his power of making all accessories, each in its due relation, subordinate to it, and that to limit style to the rounding of a period or a distich is wholly to misapprehend its truest and highest function. Donne is full of salient verses that would take the rudest March winds of criticism with their beauty, of thoughts that first tease us like charades and then delight us with the felicity of their solution; but these have not saved him. He is exiled to the limbo of the formless and the fragmentary. To take a more recent instance,--Wordsworth had, in some respects, a deeper insight, and a more adequate utterance of it, than any man of his generation. But it was a piece-meal insight and utterance; his imagination was feminine, not masculine, receptive, and not creative. His longer poems are Egyptian sand-wastes, with here and there an oasis of exquisite greenery, a grand image, Sphinx-like, half buried in drifting commonplaces, or the solitary Pompey's Pillar of some towering thought. But what is the fate of a poet who owns the quarry, but cannot build the poem? Ere the century is out he will be nine parts dead, and immortal only in that tenth part of him which is included in a thin volume of "beauties." Already Moxon has felt the need of extracting this essential oil of him; and his memory will be kept alive, if at all, by the precious material rather than the workmanship of the vase that contains his heart. And what shall we forebode of so many modern poems, full of splendid passages, beginning everywhere and leading nowhere, reminding us of nothing so much as the amateur architect who planned his own house, and forgot the staircase that should connect one floor with another, putting it as an afterthought on the outside? Lichtenberg says somewhere, that it was the advantage of the ancients to write before the great art of writing ill had been invented; and Shakespeare may be said to have had the good luck of coming after Spenser (to whom the debt of English poetry is incalculable) had reinvented the art of writing well. But Shakespeare arrived at a mastery in this respect which sets him above all other poets. He is not only superior in degree, but he is also different in kind. In that less purely artistic sphere of style which concerns the matter rather than the form his charm is often unspeakable. How perfect his style is may be judged from the fact that it never curdles into mannerism, and thus absolutely eludes imitation. Though here, if anywhere, the style is the man, yet it is noticeable only, like the images of Brutus, by its absence, so thoroughly is he absorbed in his work, while he fuses thought and word indissolubly together, till all the particles cohere by the best virtue of each. With perfect truth he has said of himself that he writes "All one, ever the same, Putting invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell his name." And yet who has so succeeded in imitating him as to remind us of him by even so much as the gait of a single verse?[127] Those magnificent crystallizations of feeling and phrase, basaltic masses, molten and interfused by the primal fires of passion, are not to be reproduced by the slow experiments of the laboratory striving to parody creation with artifice. Mr. Matthew Arnold seems to think that Shakespeare has damaged English poetry. I wish he had! It is true he lifted Dryden above himself in "All for Love"; but it was Dryden who said of him, by instinctive conviction rather than judgment, that within his magic circle none dared tread but he. Is he to blame for the extravagances of modern diction, which are but the reaction of the brazen age against the degeneracy of art into artifice, that has characterized the silver period in every literature? We see in them only the futile effort of misguided persons to torture out of language the secret of that inspiration which should be in themselves. We do not find the extravagances in Shakespeare himself. We never saw a line in any modern poet that reminded us of him, and will venture to assert that it is only poets of the second class that find successful imitators. And the reason seems to us a very plain one. The genius of the great poet seeks repose in the expression of itself, and finds it at last in style, which is the establishment of a perfect mutual understanding between the worker and his material.[128] The secondary intellect, on the other hand, seeks for excitement in expression, and stimulates itself into mannerism, which is the wilful obtrusion of self, as style is its unconscious abnegation. No poet of the first class has ever left a school, because his imagination is incommunicable; while, just as surely as the thermometer tells of the neighborhood of an iceberg, you may detect the presence of a genius of the second class in any generation by the influence of his mannerism, for that, being an artificial thing, is capable of reproduction. Dante, Shakespeare, Goethe, left no heirs either to the form or mode of their expression; while Milton, Sterne, and Wordsworth left behind them whole regiments uniformed with all their external characteristics. We do not mean that great poetic geniuses may not have influenced thought, (though we think it would be difficult to show how Shakespeare had done so, directly and wilfully,) but that they have not infected contemporaries or followers with mannerism. The quality in him which makes him at once so thoroughly English and so thoroughly cosmopolitan is that aëration of the understanding by the imagination which he has in common with all the greater poets, and which is the privilege of genius. The modern school, which mistakes violence for intensity, seems to catch its breath when it finds itself on the verge of natural expression, and to say to itself, "Good heavens! I had almost forgotten I was inspired!" But of Shakespeare we do not even suspect that he ever remembered it. He does not always speak in that intense way that flames up in Lear and Macbeth through the rifts of a soil volcanic with passion. He allows us here and there the repose of a commonplace character, the consoling distraction of a humorous one. He knows how to be equable and grand without effort, so that we forget the altitude of thought to which he has led us, because the slowly receding slope of a mountain stretching downward by ample gradations gives a less startling impression of height than to look over the edge of a ravine that makes but a wrinkle in its flank. Shakespeare has been sometimes taxed with the barbarism of profuseness and exaggeration. But this is to measure him by a Sophoclean scale. The simplicity of the antique tragedy is by no means that of expression, but is of form merely. In the utterance of great passions, something must be indulged to the extravagance of Nature; the subdued tones to which pathos and sentiment are limited cannot express a tempest of the soul The range between the piteous "no more but so," in which Ophelia compresses the heart-break whose compression was to make her mad, and that sublime appeal of Lear to the elements of Nature, only to be matched, if matched at all, in the "Prometheus," is a wide one, and Shakespeare is as truly simple in the one as in the other. The simplicity of poetry is not that of prose, nor its clearness that of ready apprehension merely. To a subtile sense, a sense heightened by sympathy, those sudden fervors of phrase, gone ere one can say it lightens, that show us Macbeth groping among the complexities of thought in his conscience-clouded mind, and reveal the intricacy rather than enlighten it, while they leave the eye darkened to the literal meaning of the words, yet make their logical sequence, the grandeur of the conception, and its truth to Nature clearer than sober daylight could. There is an obscurity of mist rising from the undrained shallows of the mind, and there is the darkness of thunder-cloud gathering its electric masses with passionate intensity from the clear element of the imagination, not at random or wilfully, but by the natural processes of the creative faculty, to brood those flashes of expression that transcend rhetoric, and are only to be apprehended by the poetic instinct. In that secondary office of imagination, where it serves the artist, not as the reason that shapes, but as the interpreter of his conceptions into words, there is a distinction to be noticed between the higher and lower mode in which it performs its function. It may be either creative or pictorial, may body forth the thought or merely image it forth. With Shakespeare, for example, imagination seems immanent in his very consciousness; with Milton, in his memory. In the one it sends, as if without knowing it, a fiery life into the verse, "Sei die Braut das Wort, Bräutigam der Geist"; in the other it elaborates a certain pomp and elevation. Accordingly, the bias of the former is toward over-intensity, of the latter toward over-diffuseness. Shakespeare's temptation is to push a willing metaphor beyond its strength, to make a passion over-inform its tenement of words; Milton cannot resist running a simile on into a fugue. One always fancies Shakespeare _in_ his best verses, and Milton at the key-board of his organ. Shakespeare's language is no longer the mere vehicle of thought, it has become part of it, its very flesh and blood. The pleasure it gives us is unmixed, direct, like that from the smell of a flower or the flavor of a fruit. Milton sets everywhere his little pitfalls of bookish association for the memory. I know that Milton's manner is very grand. It is slow, it is stately, moving as in triumphal procession, with music, with historic banners, with spoils from every time and every region, and captive epithets, like huge Sicambrians, thrust their broad shoulders between us and the thought whose pomp they decorate. But it is manner, nevertheless, as is proved by the ease with which it is parodied, by the danger it is in of degenerating into mannerism whenever it forgets itself. Fancy a parody of Shakespeare,--I do not mean of his words, but of his _tone_, for that is what distinguishes the master. You might as well try it with the Venus of Melos. In Shakespeare it is always the higher thing, the thought, the fancy, that is pre-eminent; it is Caesar that draws all eyes, and not the chariot in which he rides, or the throng which is but the reverberation of his supremacy. If not, how explain the charm with which he dominates in all tongues, even under the disenchantment of translation? Among the most alien races he is as solidly at home as a mountain seen from different sides by many lands, itself superbly solitary, yet the companion of all thoughts and domesticated in all imaginations. In description Shakespeare is especially great, and in that instinct which gives the peculiar quality of any object of contemplation in a single happy word that colors the impression on the sense with the mood of the mind. Most descriptive poets seem to think that a hogshead of water caught at the spout will give us a livelier notion of a thunder-shower than the sullen muttering of the first big drops upon the roof. They forget that it is by suggestion, not cumulation, that profound impressions are made upon the imagination. Milton's parsimony (so rare in him) makes the success of his "Sky lowered, and, muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completion of the mortal sin." Shakespeare understood perfectly the charm of indirectness, of making his readers seem to discover for themselves what he means to show them. If he wishes to tell that the leaves of the willow are gray on the under side, he does not make it a mere fact of observation by bluntly saying so, but makes it picturesquely reveal itself to us as it might in Nature:-- "There is a willow grows athwart the flood, That shows his _hoar_ leaves in the glassy stream." Where he goes to the landscape for a comparison, he does not ransack wood and field for specialties, as if he were gathering simples, but takes one image, obvious, familiar, and makes it new to us either by sympathy or contrast with his own immediate feeling. He always looked upon Nature with the eyes of the mind. Thus he can make the melancholy of autumn or the gladness of spring alike pathetic:-- "That time of year thou mayst in me behold, When yellow leaves, or few, or none, do hang Upon those boughs that shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang." Or again:-- "From thee have I been absent in the spring, When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in everything, That heavy Saturn leaped and laughed with him." But as dramatic poet, Shakespeare goes even beyond this, entering so perfectly into the consciousness of the characters he himself has created, that he sees everything through their peculiar mood, and makes every epithet, as if unconsciously, echo and re-echo it. Theseus asks Hermia,-- "Can you endure the livery of a nun, For aye to be in shady cloister mewed, To live a _barren_ sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the _cold fruitless_ moon?" When Romeo must leave Juliet, the private pang of the lovers becomes a property of Nature herself, and "_Envious_ streaks Do lace the _severing_ clouds in yonder east." But even more striking is the following instance from Macbeth:-- "The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal enterance of Duncan Under your battlements." Here Shakespeare, with his wonted tact, makes use of a vulgar superstition, of a type in which mortal presentiment is already embodied, to make a common ground on which the hearer and Lady Macbeth may meet. After this prelude we are prepared to be possessed by her emotion more fully, to feel in her ears the dull tramp of the blood that seems to make the raven's croak yet hoarser than it is, and to betray the stealthy advance of the mind to its fell purpose. For Lady Macbeth hears not so much the voice of the bodeful bird as of her own premeditated murder, and we are thus made her shuddering accomplices before the fact. Every image receives the color of the mind, every word throbs with the pulse of one controlling passion. The epithet _fatal_ makes us feel the implacable resolve of the speaker, and shows us that she is tampering with her conscience by putting off the crime upon the prophecy of the Weird Sisters to which she alludes. In the word _battlements_, too, not only is the fancy led up to the perch of the raven, but a hostile image takes the place of a hospitable; for men commonly speak of receiving a guest under their roof or within their doors. That this is not over-ingenuity, seeing what is not to be seen, nor meant to be seen, is clear to me from what follows. When Duncan and Banquo arrive at the castle, their fancies, free from all suggestion of evil, call up only gracious and amiable images. The raven was but the fantastical creation of Lady Macbeth's over-wrought brain. "This castle hath a pleasant seat, the air Nimbly and sweetly doth commend itself Unto our gentle senses. This _guest_ of summer, The _temple-haunting_ martlet, doth approve By his _loved mansionry_ that the heaven's breath Smells _wooingly_ here; no jutty, frieze, Buttress, or coigne of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle." The contrast here cannot but be as intentional as it is marked. Every image is one of welcome, security, and confidence. The summer, one may well fancy, would be a very different hostess from her whom we have just seen expecting _them_. And why _temple-haunting_, unless because it suggests sanctuary? _O immaginativa, che si ne rubi delle cose di fuor_, how infinitely more precious are the inward ones thou givest in return! If all this be accident, it is at least one of those accidents of which only this man was ever capable. I divine something like it now and then in Aeschylus, through the mists of a language which will not let me be sure of what I see, but nowhere else. Shakespeare, it is true, had, as I have said, as respects English, the privilege which only first-comers enjoy. The language was still fresh from those sources at too great a distance from which it becomes fit only for the service of prose. Wherever he dipped, it came up clear and sparkling, undefiled as yet by the drainage of literary factories, or of those dye-houses where the machine-woven fabrics of sham culture are colored up to the last desperate style of sham sentiment. Those who criticise his diction as sometimes extravagant should remember that in poetry language is something more than merely the vehicle of thought, that it is meant to convey the sentiment as much as the sense, and that, if there is a beauty of use, there is often a higher use of beauty. What kind of culture Shakespeare had is uncertain; how much he had is disputed; that he had as much as he wanted, and of whatever kind he wanted, must be clear to whoever considers the question. Dr. Farmer has proved, in his entertaining essay, that he got everything at second-hand from translations, and that, where his translator blundered, he loyally blundered too. But Goethe, the man of widest acquirement in modern times, did precisely the same thing. In his character of poet he set as little store by useless learning as Shakespeare did. He learned to write hexameters, not from Homer, but from Voss, and Voss found them faulty; yet somehow _Hermann und Dorothea_ is more readable than _Luise_. So far as all the classicism then attainable was concerned, Shakespeare got it as cheap as Goethe did, who always bought it ready-made. For such purposes of mere aesthetic nourishment Goethe always milked other minds,--if minds those ruminators and digesters of antiquity into asses' milk may be called. There were plenty of professors who were forever assiduously browsing in vales of Enna and on Pentelican slopes among the vestiges of antiquity, slowly secreting lacteous facts, and not one of them would have raised his head from that exquisite pasturage, though Pan had made music through his pipe of reeds. Did Goethe wish to work up a Greek theme? He drove out Herr Böttiger, for example, among that fodder delicious to him for its very dryness, that sapless Arcadia of scholiasts, let him graze, ruminate, and go through all other needful processes of the antiquarian organism, then got him quietly into a corner and milked him. The product, after standing long enough, mantled over with the rich Goethean cream, from which a butter could be churned, if not precisely classic, quite as good as the ancients could have made out of the same material. But who has ever read the _Achilleis_, correct in all _un_essential particulars as it probably is? It is impossible to conceive that a man, who, in other respects, made such booty of the world around him, whose observation of manners was so minute, and whose insight into character and motives, as if he had been one of God's spies, was so unerring that we accept it without question, as we do Nature herself, and find it more consoling to explain his confessedly immense superiority by attributing it to a happy instinct rather than to the conscientious perfecting of exceptional powers till practice made them seem to work independently of the will which still directed them,--it is impossible that such a man should not also have profited by the converse of the cultivated and quick-witted men in whose familiar society he lived, that he should not have over and over again discussed points of criticism and art with them, that he should not have had his curiosity, so alive to everything else, excited about those ancients whom university men then, no doubt, as now, extolled without too much knowledge of what they really were, that he should not have heard too much rather than too little of Aristotle's _Poetics_, Quinctilian's _Rhetoric_, Horace's _Art of Poetry_, and the _Unities_, especially from Ben Jonson,--in short, that he who speaks of himself as "Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what he most enjoyed contented least," and who meditated so profoundly on every other topic of human concern, should never have turned his thought to the principles of that art which was both the delight and business of his life, the bread-winner alike for soul and body. Was there no harvest of the ear for him whose eye had stocked its garners so full as wellnigh to forestall all after-comers? Did he who could so counsel the practisers of an art in which he never arrived at eminence, as in Hamlet's advice to the players, never take counsel with himself about that other art in which the instinct of the crowd, no less than the judgment of his rivals, awarded him an easy pre-eminence? If he had little Latin and less Greek, might he not have had enough of both for every practical purpose on this side pedantry? The most extraordinary, one might almost say contradictory, attainments have been ascribed to him, and yet he has been supposed incapable of what was within easy reach of every boy at Westminster School. There is a knowledge that comes of sympathy as living and genetic as that which comes of mere learning is sapless and unprocreant, and for this no profound study of the languages is needed. If Shakespeare did not know the ancients, I think they were at least as unlucky in not knowing him. But is it incredible that he may have laid hold of an edition of the Greek tragedians, _Graecè et Latinè_, and then, with such poor wits as he was master of, contrived to worry some considerable meaning out of them? There are at least one or two coincidences which, whether accidental or not, are curious, and which I do not remember to have seen noticed. In the _Electra_ of Sophocles, which is almost identical in its leading motive with _Hamlet_, the Chorus consoles Electra for the supposed death of Orestes in the same commonplace way which Hamlet's uncle tries with him. [Greek: Thnaetou pephukas patros, Aelektra phronei; Thnaetos d' Orestaes; oste mae lian stene, Pasin gar aemin tout' opheiletai pathein.] "Your father lost a father; That father lost, lost his.... But to perséver In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness.... 'T is common; all that live must die." Shakespeare expatiates somewhat more largely, but the sentiment in both cases is almost verbally identical. The resemblance is probably a chance one, for commonplace and consolation were always twin sisters, whom always to escape is given to no man; but it is nevertheless curious. Here is another, from the _Oedipus Coloneus_:-- [Greek: Tois toi dikaiois cho brachus nika megan.] "Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just." Hamlet's "prophetic soul" may be matched with the [Greek: promantis thumos] of Peleus, (Eurip. Androm. 1075,) and his "sea of troubles," with the [Greek: kakon pelagos] of Theseus in the _Hippolytus_, or of the Chorus in the _Hercules Furens_. And, for manner and tone, compare the speeches of Pheres in the _Alcestis_, and Jocasta in the _Phoenissae_, with those of Claudio in _Measure for Measure_, and Ulysses in _Troilus and Cressida_. The Greek dramatists were somewhat fond of a trick of words in which there is a reduplication of sense as well as of assonance, as in the _Electra_:-- [Greek: Alektra gaeraskousan anumenaia te]. So Shakespeare:-- "Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled"; and Milton after him, or, more likely, after the Greek:-- "Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved."[129] I mention these trifles, in passing, because they have interested me, and therefore may interest others. I lay no stress upon them, for, if once the conductors of Shakespeare's intelligence had been put in connection with those Attic brains, he would have reproduced their message in a form of his own. They would have inspired, and not enslaved him. His resemblance to them is that of consanguinity, more striking in expression than in mere resemblance of feature. The likeness between the Clytemnestra--[Greek: gunaikos androboulon elpizon kear]--of Aeschylus and the Lady Macbeth of Shakespeare was too remarkable to have escaped notice. That between the two poets in their choice of epithets is as great, though more difficult of proof. Yet I think an attentive student of Shakespeare cannot fail to be reminded of something familiar to him in such phrases as "flame-eyed fire," "flax-winged ships," "star-neighboring peaks," the rock Salmydessus, "Rude jaw of the sea, Harsh hostess of the seaman, step-mother Of ships," and the beacon with its "_speaking eye_ of fire." Surely there is more than a verbal, there is a genuine, similarity between the [Greek: anaerithmon gelasma] and "the unnumbered beach" and "multitudinous sea." Aeschylus, it seems to me, is willing, just as Shakespeare is, to risk the prosperity of a verse upon a lucky throw of words, which may come up the sices of hardy metaphor or the ambsace of conceit. There is such a difference between far-reaching and far-fetching! Poetry, to be sure, is always that daring one step beyond, which brings the right man to fortune, but leaves the wrong one in the ditch, and its law is, Be bold once and again, yet be not over-bold. It is true, also, that masters of language are a little apt to play with it. But whatever fault may be found with Shakespeare in this respect will touch a tender spot in Aeschylus also. Does he sometimes overload a word, so that the language not merely, as Dryden says, bends under him, but fairly gives way, and lets the reader's mind down with the shock as of a false step in taste? He has nothing worse than [Greek: pelagos anthoun nekrois]. A criticism, shallow in human nature, however deep in Campbell's Rhetoric, has blamed him for making persons, under great excitement of sorrow, or whatever other emotion, parenthesize some trifling play upon words in the very height of their passion. Those who make such criticisms have either never felt a passion or seen one in action, or else they forget the exaltation of sensibility during such crises, so that the attention, whether of the senses or the mind, is arrested for the moment by what would be overlooked in ordinary moods. The more forceful the current, the more sharp the ripple from any alien substance interposed. A passion that looks forward, like revenge or lust or greed, goes right to its end, and is straightforward in its expression; but a tragic passion, which is in its nature unavailing, like disappointment, regret of the inevitable, or remorse, is reflective, and liable to be continually diverted by the suggestions of fancy. The one is a concentration of the will, which intensifies the character and the phrase that expresses it; in the other, the will is helpless, and, as in insanity, while the flow of the mind sets imperatively in one direction, it is liable to almost ludicrous interruptions and diversions upon the most trivial hint of involuntary association. I am ready to grant that Shakespeare sometimes allows his characters to spend time, that might be better employed, in carving some cherry-stone of a quibble;[130] that he is sometimes tempted away from the natural by the quaint; that he sometimes forces a partial, even a verbal, analogy between the abstract thought and the sensual image into an absolute identity, giving us a kind of serious pun. In a pun our pleasure arises from a gap in the logical nexus too wide for the reason, but which the ear can bridge in an instant. "Is that your own hare, or a wig?" The fancy is yet more tickled where logic is treated with a mock ceremonial of respect. "His head was turned, _and so_ he chewed His pigtail till he died." Now when this kind of thing is done in earnest, the result is one of those ill-distributed syllogisms which in rhetoric are called conceits. "Hard was the hand that struck the blow, Soft was the heart that bled." I have seen this passage from Warner cited for its beauty, though I should have thought nothing could be worse, had I not seen General Morris's "Her heart and morning broke together In tears." Of course, I would not rank with these Gloucester's "What! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted"; though as mere rhetoric it belongs to the same class.[131] It might be defended as a bit of ghastly humor characteristic of the speaker. But at any rate it is not without precedent in the two greater Greek tragedians. In a chorus of the _Seven against Thebes_ we have:-- [Greek: en de gaia. Zoa phonoruto Memiktai, _karta d' eis' omaimoi_.] And does not Sophocles make Ajax in his despair quibble upon his own name quite in the Shakespearian fashion, under similar circumstances? Nor does the coarseness with which our great poet is reproached lack an Aeschylean parallel. Even the Nurse in _Romeo and Juliet_ would have found a true gossip in her of the _Agamemnon_, who is so indiscreet in her confidences concerning the nursery life of Orestes. Whether Raleigh is right or not in warning historians against following truth too close upon the heels, the caution is a good one for poets as respects truth to Nature. But it is a mischievous fallacy in historian or critic to treat as a blemish of the man what is but the common tincture of his age. It is to confound a spatter of mud with a moral stain. But I have been led away from my immediate purpose. I did not intend to compare Shakespeare with the ancients, much less to justify his defects by theirs. Shakespeare himself has left us a pregnant satire on dogmatical and categorical aesthetics (which commonly in discussion soon lose their ceremonious tails and are reduced to the internecine dog and cat of their bald first syllables) in the cloud-scene between Hamlet and Polonius, suggesting exquisitely how futile is any attempt at a cast-iron definition of those perpetually metamorphic impressions of the beautiful whose source is as much in the man who looks as in the thing he sees. In the fine arts a thing is either good in itself or it is nothing. It neither gains nor loses by having it shown that another good thing was also good in itself, any more than a bad thing profits by comparison with another that is worse. The final judgment of the world is intuitive, and is based, not on proof that a work possesses some of the qualities of another whose greatness is acknowledged, but on the immediate feeling that it carries to a high point of perfection certain qualities proper to itself. One does not flatter a fine pear by comparing it to a fine peach, nor learn what a fine peach is by tasting ever so many poor ones. The boy who makes his first bite into one does not need to ask his father if or how or why it is good. Because continuity is a merit in some kinds of writing, shall we refuse ourselves to the authentic charm of Montaigne's want of it? I have heard people complain of French tragedies because they were so very French. This, though it may not be to some particular tastes, and may from one point of view be a defect, is from another and far higher a distinguished merit. It is their flavor, as direct a telltale of the soil whence they drew it as that of French wines is. Suppose we should tax the Elgin marbles with being too Greek? When will people, nay, when will even critics, get over this self-defrauding trick of cheapening the excellence of one thing by that of another, this conclusive style of judgment which consists simply in belonging to the other parish? As one grows older, one loses many idols, perhaps comes at last to have none at all, though he may honestly enough uncover in deference to the worshippers before any shrine. But for the seeming loss the compensation is ample. These saints of literature descend from their canopied remoteness to be even more precious as men like ourselves, our companions in field and street, speaking the same tongue, though in many dialects, and owning one creed under the most diverse masks of form. Much of that merit of structure which is claimed for the ancient tragedy is due, if I am not mistaken, to circumstances external to the drama itself,--to custom, to convention, to the exigencies of the theatre. It is formal rather than organic. The _Prometheus_ seems to me one of the few Greek tragedies in which the whole creation has developed itself in perfect proportion from one central germ of living conception. The motive of the ancient drama is generally outside of it, while in the modern (at least in the English) it is necessarily within. Goethe, in a thoughtful essay,[132] written many years later than his famous criticism of Hamlet in _Wilhelm Meister_, says that the distinction between the two is the difference between _sollen_ and _wollen_, that is, between _must_ and _would_. He means that in the Greek drama the catastrophe is foreordained by an inexorable Destiny, while the element of Freewill, and consequently of choice, is the very axis of the modern. The definition is conveniently portable, but it has its limitations. Goethe's attention was too exclusively fixed on the Fate tragedies of the Greeks, and upon Shakespeare among the moderns. In the Spanish drama, for example, custom, loyalty, honor, and religion are as imperative and as inevitable as doom. In the _Antigone_, on the other hand, the crisis lies in the character of the protagonist. In this sense it is modern, and is the first example of true character-painting in tragedy. But, from whatever cause, that exquisite analysis of complex motives, and the display of them in action and speech, which constitute for us the abiding charm of fiction, were quite unknown to the ancients. They reached their height in Cervantes and Shakespeare, and, though on a lower plane, still belong to the upper region of art in Le Sage, Molière, and Fielding. The personages of the Greek tragedy seem to be commonly rather types than individuals. In the modern tragedy, certainly in the four greatest of Shakespeare's tragedies, there is still something very like Destiny, only the place of it is changed. It is no longer above man, but in him; yet the catastrophe is as sternly foredoomed in the characters of Lear, Othello, Macbeth, and Hamlet as it could be by an infallible oracle. In Macbeth, indeed, the Weird Sisters introduce an element very like Fate; but generally it may be said that with the Greeks the character is involved in the action, while with Shakespeare the action is evolved from the character. In the one case, the motive of the play controls the personages; in the other, the chief personages are in themselves the motive to which all else is subsidiary. In any comparison, therefore, of Shakespeare with the ancients, we are not to contrast him with them as unapproachable models, but to consider whether he, like them, did not consciously endeavor, under the circumstances and limitations in which he found himself, to produce the most excellent thing possible, a model also in its own kind,--whether higher or lower in degree is another question. The only fair comparison would be between him and that one of his contemporaries who endeavored to anachronize himself, so to speak, and to subject his art, so far as might be, to the laws of classical composition. Ben Jonson was a great man, and has sufficiently proved that he had an eye for the external marks of character; but when he would make a whole of them, he gives us instead either a bundle of humors or an incorporated idea. With Shakespeare the plot is an interior organism, in Jonson an external contrivance. It is the difference between man and tortoise. In the one the osseous structure is out of sight, indeed, but sustains the flesh and blood that envelop it, while the other is boxed up and imprisoned in his bones. I have been careful to confine myself to what may be called Shakespeare's ideal tragedies. In the purely historical or chronicle plays, the conditions are different, and his imagination submits itself to the necessary restrictions on its freedom of movement. Outside the tragedies also, the _Tempest_ makes an exception worthy of notice. If I read it rightly, it is an example of how a great poet should write allegory,--not embodying metaphysical abstractions, but giving us ideals abstracted from life itself, suggesting an under-meaning everywhere, forcing it upon us nowhere, tantalizing the mind with hints that imply so much and tell so little, and yet keep the attention all eye and ear with eager, if fruitless, expectation. Here the leading characters are not merely typical, but symbolical,--that is, they do not illustrate a class of persons, they belong to universal Nature. Consider the scene of the play. Shakespeare is wont to take some familiar story, to lay his scene in some place the name of which, at least, is familiar,--well knowing the reserve of power that lies in the familiar as a background, when things are set in front of it under a new and unexpected light. But in the _Tempest_ the scene is laid nowhere, or certainly in no country laid down on any map. Nowhere, then? At once nowhere and anywhere,--for it is in the soul of man, that still vexed island hung between the upper and the nether world, and liable to incursions from both. There is scarce a play of Shakespeare's in which there is such variety of character, none in which character has so little to do in the carrying on and development of the story. But consider for a moment if ever the Imagination has been so embodied as in Prospero, the Fancy as in Ariel, the brute Understanding as in Caliban, who, the moment his poor wits are warmed with the glorious liquor of Stephano, plots rebellion against his natural lord, the higher Reason. Miranda is mere abstract Womanhood, as truly so before she sees Ferdinand as Eve before she was wakened to consciousness by the echo of her own nature coming back to her, the same, and yet not the same, from that of Adam. Ferdinand, again, is nothing more than Youth, compelled to drudge at something he despises, till the sacrifice of will and abnegation of self win him his ideal in Miranda. The subordinate personages are simply types; Sebastian and Antonio, of weak character and evil ambition; Gonzalo, of average sense and honesty; Adrian and Francisco, of the walking gentlemen who serve to fill up a world. They are not characters in the same sense with Iago, Falstaff, Shallow, or Leontius; and it is curious how every one of them loses his way in this enchanted island of life, all the victims of one illusion after another, except Prospero, whose ministers are purely ideal. The whole play, indeed, is a succession of illusions, winding up with those solemn words of the great enchanter who had summoned to his service every shape of merriment or passion, every figure in the great tragi-comedy of life, and who was now bidding farewell to the scene of his triumphs. For in Prospero shall we not recognize the Artist himself,-- "That did not better for his life provide Than public means which public manners breeds, Whence comes it that his name receives a brand,"-- who has forfeited a shining place in the world's eye by devotion to his art, and who, turned adrift on the ocean of life in the leaky carcass of a boat, has shipwrecked on that Fortunate Island (as men always do who find their true vocation) where he is absolute lord, making all the powers of Nature serve him, but with Ariel and Caliban as special ministers? Of whom else could he have been thinking, when he says,-- "Graves, at my command, Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let them forth, By my so potent art"? Was this man, so extraordinary from whatever side we look at him, who ran so easily through the whole scale of human sentiment, from the homely commonsense of, "When two men ride of one horse, one _must_ ride behind," to the transcendental subtilty of, "No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change; Thy pyramids, built up with newer might, To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight,"-- was he alone so unconscious of powers, some part of whose magic is recognized by all mankind, from the school-boy to the philosopher, that he merely sat by and saw them go without the least notion what they were about? Was he an inspired idiot, _vôtre bizarre Shakespeare_? a vast, irregular genius? a simple rustic, warbling his _native_ wood-notes wild, in other words, insensible to the benefits of culture? When attempts have been made at various times to prove that this singular and seemingly contradictory creature, not one, but all mankind's epitome, was a musician, a lawyer, a doctor, a Catholic, a Protestant, an atheist, an Irishman, a discoverer of the circulation of the blood, and finally, that he was not himself, but somebody else, is it not a little odd that the last thing anybody should have thought of proving him was an artist? Nobody believes any longer that immediate inspiration is possible in modern times (as if God had grown old),--at least, nobody believes it of the prophets of those days, of John of Leyden, or Reeves, or Muggleton,--and yet everybody seems to take it for granted of this one man Shakespeare. He, somehow or other, without knowing it, was able to do what none of the rest of them, though knowing it all too perfectly well, could begin to do. Everybody seems to get afraid of him in turn. Voltaire plays gentleman usher for him to his countrymen, and then, perceiving that his countrymen find a flavor in him beyond that of _Zaïre_ or _Mahomet_, discovers him to be a _Sauvage ivre, sans le moindre étincelle de bon goût, et sans le moindre connoissance des règles_. Goethe, who tells us that _Götz von Berlichingen_ was written in the Shakespearian manner,--and we certainly should not have guessed it, if he had not blabbed,--comes to the final conclusion, that Shakespeare was a poet, but not a dramatist. Châteaubriand thinks that he has corrupted art. "If, to attain," he says, "the height of tragic art, it be enough to heap together disparate scenes without order and without connection, to dovetail the burlesque with the pathetic, to set the water-carrier beside the monarch and the huckster-wench beside the queen, who may not reasonably flatter himself with being the rival of the greatest masters? Whoever should give himself the trouble to retrace a single one of his days, ... to keep a journal from hour to hour, would have made a drama in the fashion of the English poet." But there are journals and journals, as the French say, and what goes into them depends on the eye that gathers for them. It is a long step from St. Simon to Dangeau, from Pepys to Thoresby, from Shakespeare even to the Marquis de Châteaubriand. M. Hugo alone, convinced that, as founder of the French Romantic School, there is a kind of family likeness between himself and Shakespeare, stands boldly forth to prove the father as extravagant as the son. Calm yourself, M. Hugo, you are no more a child of his than Will Davenant was! But, after all, is it such a great crime to produce something absolutely new in a world so tedious as ours, and so apt to tell its old stories over again? I do not mean new in substance, but in the manner of presentation. Surely the highest office of a great poet is to show us how much variety, freshness, and opportunity abides in the obvious and familiar. He invents nothing, but seems rather to _re_-discover the world about him, and his penetrating vision gives to things of daily encounter something of the strangeness of new creation. Meanwhile the changed conditions of modern life demand a change in the method of treatment. The ideal is not a strait-waistcoat. Because _Alexis and Dora_ is so charming, shall we have no _Paul and Virginia?_ It was the idle endeavor to reproduce the old enchantment in the old way that gave us the pastoral, sent to the garret now with our grandmothers' achievements of the same sort in worsted. Every age says to its poets, like a mistress to her lover, "Tell me what I am like"; and he who succeeds in catching the evanescent expression that reveals character--which is as much as to say, what is intrinsically human--will be found to have caught something as imperishable as human nature itself. Aristophanes, by the vital and essential qualities of his humorous satire, is already more nearly our contemporary than Molière; and even the _Trouvères_, careless and trivial as they mostly are, could fecundate a great poet like Chaucer, and are still delightful reading. The Attic tragedy still keeps its hold upon the loyalty of scholars through their imagination, or their pedantry, or their feeling of an exclusive property, as may happen, and, however alloyed with baser matter, this loyalty is legitimate and well bestowed. But the dominion of the Shakespearian is even wider. It pushes forward its boundaries from year to year, and moves no landmark backward. Here Alfieri and Leasing own a common allegiance; and the loyalty to him is one not of guild or tradition, but of conviction and enthusiasm. Can this be said of any other modern? of robust Corneille? of tender Racine? of Calderon even, with his tropical warmth and vigor of production? The Greeks and he are alike and alone in this, and for the same reason, that both are unapproachably the highest in their kind. Call him Gothic, if you like, but the inspiring mind that presided over the growth of these clustered masses of arch and spire and pinnacle and buttress is neither Greek nor Gothic,--it is simply genius lending itself to embody the new desire of man's mind, as it had embodied the old. After all, to be delightful is to be classic, and the chaotic never pleases long. But manifoldness is not confusion, any more than formalism is simplicity. If Shakespeare rejected the unities, as I think he who complains of "Art made tongue-tied by Authority" might very well deliberately do, it was for the sake of an imaginative unity more intimate than any of time and place. The antique in itself is not the ideal, though its remoteness from the vulgarity of everyday associations helps to make it seem so. The true ideal is not opposed to the real, nor is it any artificial heightening thereof, but lies _in_ it, and blessed are the eyes that find it! It is the _mens divinior_ which hides within the actual, transfiguring matter-of-fact into matter-of-meaning for him who has the gift of second-sight. In this sense Hogarth is often more truly ideal than Raphael, Shakespeare often more truly so than the Greeks. I think it is a more or less conscious perception of this ideality, as it is a more or less well-grounded persuasion of it as respects the Greeks, that assures to him, as to them, and with equal justice, a permanent supremacy over the minds of men. This gives to his characters their universality, to his thought its irradiating property, while the artistic purpose running through and combining the endless variety of scene and character will alone account for his power of dramatic effect. Goethe affirmed, that, without Schröder's prunings and adaptations, Shakespeare was too undramatic for the German theatre,--that, if the theory that his plays should be represented textually should prevail, he would be driven from the boards. The theory has prevailed, and he not only holds his own, but is acted oftener than ever. It is not irregular genius that can do this, for surely Germany need not go abroad for what her own Werners could more than amply supply her with. But I would much rather quote a fine saying than a bad prophecy of a man to whom I owe so much. Goethe, in one of the most perfect of his shorter poems, tells us that a poem is like a painted window. Seen from without, (and he accordingly justifies the Philistine, who never looks at them otherwise,) they seem dingy and confused enough; but enter, and then "Da ist's auf einmal farbig helle, Geschicht' und Zierath glänzt in Schnelle." With the same feeling he says elsewhere in prose, that "there is a destructive criticism and a productive. The former is very easy; for one has only to set up in his mind any standard, any model, however narrow" (let us say the Greeks), "and then boldly assert that the work under review does not match with it, and therefore is good for nothing,--the matter is settled, and one must at once deny its claim. Productive criticism is a great deal more difficult; it asks, What did the author propose to himself? Is what he proposes reasonable and comprehensible? and how far has he succeeded in carrying it out?" It is in applying this latter kind of criticism to Shakespeare that the Germans have set us an example worthy of all commendation. If they have been sometimes over-subtile, they at least had the merit of first looking at his works as wholes, as something that very likely contained an idea, perhaps conveyed a moral, if we could get at it. The illumination lent us by most of the English commentators reminds us of the candles which guides hold up to show us a picture in a dark place, the smoke of which gradually makes the work of the artist invisible under its repeated layers. Lessing, as might have been expected, opened the first glimpse in the new direction; Goethe followed with his famous exposition of Hamlet; A.W. Schlegel took a more comprehensive view in his Lectures, which Coleridge worked over into English, adding many fine criticisms of his own on single passages; and finally, Gervinus has devoted four volumes to a comment on the plays, full of excellent matter, though pushing the moral exegesis beyond all reasonable bounds.[133] With the help of all these, and especially of the last, I shall apply this theory of criticism to Hamlet, not in the hope of saying anything new, but of bringing something to the support of the thesis, that, if Shakespeare was skilful as a playwright, he was even greater as a dramatist,--that, if his immediate business was to fill the theatre, his higher object was to create something which, by fulfilling the conditions and answering the requirements of modern life, should as truly deserve to be called a work of art as others had deserved it by doing the same thing in former times and under other circumstances. Supposing him to have accepted--consciously or not is of little importance--the new terms of the problem which makes character the pivot of dramatic action, and consequently the key of dramatic unity, how far did he succeed? Before attempting my analysis, I must clear away a little rubbish. Are such anachronisms as those of which Voltaire accuses Shakespeare in Hamlet, such as the introduction of cannon before the invention of gunpowder, and making Christians of the Danes three centuries too soon, of the least bearing aesthetically? I think not; but as they are of a piece with a great many other criticisms upon the great poet, it is worth while to dwell upon them a moment. The first demand we make upon whatever claims to be a work of art (and we have a right to make it) is that it shall be _in keeping_. Now this propriety is of two kinds, either extrinsic or intrinsic. In the first I should class whatever relates rather to the body than the soul of the work, such as fidelity to the facts of history, (wherever that is important,) congruity of costume, and the like,--in short, whatever might come under the head of _picturesque_ truth, a departure from which would shock too rudely our preconceived associations. I have seen an Indian chief in French boots, and he seemed to me almost tragic; but, put upon the stage in tragedy, he would have been ludicrous. Lichtenberg, writing from London in 1775, tells us that Garrick played Hamlet in a suit of the French fashion, then commonly worn, and that he was blamed for it by some of the critics; but, he says, one hears no such criticism during the play, nor on the way home, nor at supper afterwards, nor indeed till the emotion roused by the great actor has had time to subside. He justifies Garrick, though we should not be able to endure it now. Yet nothing would be gained by trying to make Hamlet's costume true to the assumed period of the play, for the scene of it is laid in a Denmark that has no dates. In the second and more important category, I should put, first, co-ordination of character, that is, a certain variety in harmony of the personages of a drama, as in the attitudes and coloring of the figures in a pictorial composition, so that, while mutually relieving and setting off each other, they shall combine in the total impression; second, that subordinate truth to Nature which makes each character coherent in itself; and, third, such propriety of costume and the like as shall satisfy the superhistoric sense, to which, and to which alone, the higher drama appeals. All these come within the scope of _imaginative_ truth. To illustrate my third head by an example. Tieck criticises John Kemble's dressing for Macbeth in a modern Highland costume, as being ungraceful without any countervailing merit of historical exactness. I think a deeper reason for his dissatisfaction might be found in the fact, that this garb, with its purely modern and British army associations, is out of place on Fores Heath, and drags the Weird Sisters down with it from their proper imaginative remoteness in the gloom of the past to the disenchanting glare of the foot-lights. It is not the antiquarian, but the poetic conscience, that is wounded. To this, exactness, so far as concerns ideal representation, may not only not be truth, but may even be opposed to it. Anachronisms and the like are in themselves of no account, and become important only when they make a gap too wide for our illusion to cross unconsciously, that is, when they are anacoluthons to the imagination. The aim of the artist is psychologic, not historic truth. It is comparatively easy for an author to _get up_ any period with tolerable minuteness in externals, but readers and audiences find more difficulty in getting them down, though oblivion swallows scores of them at a gulp. The saving truth in such matters is a truth to essential and permanent characteristics. The Ulysses of Shakespeare, like the Ulysses of Dante and Tennyson, more or less harmonizes with our ideal conception of the wary, long-considering, though adventurous son of Laertes, yet Simon Lord Lovat is doubtless nearer the original type. In Hamlet, though there is no Denmark of the ninth century, Shakespeare has suggested the prevailing rudeness of manners quite enough for his purpose. We see it in the single combat of Hamlet's father with the elder Fortinbras, in the vulgar wassail of the king, in the English monarch being expected to hang Rosencrantz and Guildenstern out of hand merely to oblige his cousin of Denmark, in Laertes, sent to Paris to be made a gentleman of, becoming instantly capable of any the most barbarous treachery to glut his vengeance. We cannot fancy Ragnar Lodbrog or Eric the Red matriculating at Wittenberg, but it was essential that Hamlet should be a scholar, and Shakespeare sends him thither without more ado. All through the play we get the notion of a state of society in which a savage nature has disguised itself in the externals of civilization, like a Maori deacon, who has only to strip and he becomes once more a tattooed pagan with his mouth watering for a spare-rib of his pastor. Historically, at the date of Hamlet, the Danes were in the habit of burning their enemies alive in their houses, with as much of their family about them as might be to make it comfortable. Shakespeare seems purposely to have dissociated his play from history by changing nearly every name in the original legend. The motive of the play--revenge as a religious duty--belongs only to a social state in which the traditions of barbarism are still operative, but, with infallible artistic judgment, Shakespeare has chosen, not untamed Nature, as he found it in history, but the period of transition, a period in which the times are always out of joint, and thus the irresolution which has its root in Hamlet's own character is stimulated by the very incompatibility of that legacy of vengeance he has inherited from the past with the new culture and refinement of which he is the representative. One of the few books which Shakespeare is known to have possessed was Florio's Montaigne, and he might well have transferred the Frenchman's motto, _Que sçais je_? to the front of his tragedy; nor can I help fancying something more than accident in the fact that Hamlet has been a student at Wittenberg, whence those new ideas went forth, of whose results in unsettling men's faith, and consequently disqualifying them for promptness in action, Shakespeare had been not only an eye-witness, but which he must actually have experienced in himself. One other objection let me touch upon here, especially as it has been urged against Hamlet, and that is the introduction of low characters and comic scenes in tragedy. Even Garrick, who had just assisted at the Stratford Jubilee, where Shakespeare had been pronounced divine, was induced by this absurd outcry for the proprieties of the tragic stage to omit the grave-diggers' scene from Hamlet. Leaving apart the fact that Shakespeare would not have been the representative poet he is, if he had not given expression to this striking tendency of the Northern races, which shows itself constantly, not only in their literature, but even in their mythology and their architecture, the grave-diggers' scene always impresses me as one of the most pathetic in the whole tragedy. That Shakespeare introduced such scenes and characters with deliberate intention, and with a view to artistic relief and contrast, there can hardly be a doubt. We must take it for granted that a man whose works show everywhere the results of judgment sometimes acted with forethought. I find the springs of the profoundest sorrow and pity in this hardened indifference of the grave-diggers, in their careless discussion as to whether Ophelia's death was by suicide or no, in their singing and jesting at their dreary work. "A pickaxe and a spade, a spade, For--and a shrouding-sheet: O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet!" _We_ know who is to be the guest of this earthen hospitality,--how much beauty, love, and heartbreak are to be covered in that pit of clay. All we remember of Ophelia reacts upon us with tenfold force, and we recoil from our amusement at the ghastly drollery of the two delvers with a shock of horror. That the unconscious Hamlet should stumble on _this_ grave of all others, that it should be _here_ that he should pause to muse humorously on death and decay,--all this prepares us for the revulsion of passion in the next scene, and for the frantic confession,-- "I loved Ophelia; forty thousand brothers Could not with all _their_ quantity of love Make up my sum!" And it is only here that such an asseveration would be true even to the feeling of the moment; for it is plain from all we know of Hamlet that he could not so have loved Ophelia, that he was incapable of the self-abandonment of a true passion, that he would have analyzed this emotion as he does all others, would have peeped and botanized upon it till it became to him a mere matter of scientific interest. All this force of contrast, and this horror of surprise, were necessary so to intensify his remorseful regret that he should believe himself for once in earnest. The speech of the King, "O, he is mad, Laertes," recalls him to himself, and he at once begins to rave:-- "Zounds! show me what thou'lt do! Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself? Woul't drink up eysil? eat a crocodile?" It is easy to see that the whole plot hinges upon the character of Hamlet, that Shakespeare's conception of this was the ovum out of which the whole organism was hatched. And here let me remark, that there is a kind of genealogical necessity in the character,--a thing not altogether strange to the attentive reader of Shakespeare. Hamlet seems the natural result of the mixture of father and mother in his temperament, the resolution and persistence of the one, like sound timber wormholed and made shaky, as it were, by the other's infirmity of will and discontinuity of purpose. In natures so imperfectly mixed it is not uncommon to find vehemence of intention the prelude and counterpoise of weak performance, the conscious nature striving to keep up its self-respect by a triumph in words all the more resolute that it feels assured beforehand of inevitable defeat in action. As in such slipshod housekeeping men are their own largest creditors, they find it easy to stave off utter bankruptcy of conscience by taking up one unpaid promise with another larger, and at heavier interest, till such self-swindling becomes habitual and by degrees almost painless. How did Coleridge discount his own notes of this kind with less and less specie as the figures lengthened on the paper! As with Hamlet, so it is with Ophelia and Laertes. The father's feebleness comes up again in the wasting heartbreak and gentle lunacy of the daughter, while the son shows it in a rashness of impulse and act, a kind of crankiness, of whose essential feebleness we are all the more sensible as contrasted with a nature so steady on its keel, and drawing so much water, as that of Horatio,--the foil at once, in different ways, to both him and Hamlet. It was natural, also, that the daughter of self-conceited old Polonius should have her softness stiffened with a fibre of obstinacy; for there are two kinds of weakness, that which breaks, and that which bends. Ophelia's is of the former kind; Hero is her counterpart, giving way before calamity, and rising again so soon as the pressure is removed. I find two passages in Dante that contain the exactest possible definition of that habit or quality of Hamlet's mind which justifies the tragic turn of the play, and renders it natural and unavoidable from the beginning. The first is from the second canto of the _Inferno_:-- "E quale è quei che disvuol ciò che volle, E per nuovi pensier sangia proposta, Si che del cominciar tutto si tolle; Tal mi fec' io in quella oscura costa; Perchè pensando consumai la impresa Che fu nel cominciar cotanto tosta." "And like the man who unwills what he willed, And for new thoughts doth change his first intent, So that he cannot anywhere begin, Such became I upon that slope obscure, Because with thinking I consumed resolve, That was so ready at the setting out." Again, in the fifth of the _Purgatorio_:-- "Che sempre l' uomo in cui pensier rampoglia Sovra pensier, da sè dilunga il segno, Perchè la foga l' un dell' altro insolla." "For always he in whom one thought buds forth Out of another farther puts the goal. For each has only force to mar the other." Dante was a profound metaphysician, and as in the first passage he describes and defines a certain quality of mind, so in the other he tells us its result in the character and life, namely, indecision and failure,--the goal _farther_ off at the end than at the beginning. It is remarkable how close a resemblance of thought, and even of expression, there is between the former of these quotations and a part of Hamlet's famous soliloquy:-- "Thus conscience [i.e. consciousness] doth make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pitch and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action!" It is an inherent peculiarity of a mind like Hamlet's that it should be conscious of its own defect. Men of his type are forever analyzing their own emotions and motives. They cannot do anything, because they always see two ways of doing it. They cannot determine on any course of action, because they are always, as it were, standing at the cross-roads, and see too well the disadvantages of every one of them. It is not that they are incapable of resolve, but somehow the band between the motive power and the operative faculties is relaxed and loose. The engine works, but the machinery it should drive stands still. The imagination is so much in overplus, that thinking a thing becomes better than doing it, and thought with its easy perfection, capable of everything because it can accomplish everything with ideal means, is vastly more attractive and satisfactory than deed, which must be wrought at best with imperfect instruments, and always falls short of the conception that went before it. "If to do," says Portia in the _Merchant of Venice_,--"if to do were as easy as to know what 't were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces." Hamlet knows only too well what 't were good to do, but he palters with everything in a double sense: he sees the grain of good there is in evil, and the grain of evil there is in good, as they exist in the world, and, finding that he can make those feather-weighted accidents balance each other, infers that there is little to choose between the essences themselves. He is of Montaigne's mind, and says expressly that "there is nothing good or ill, but thinking makes it so." He dwells so exclusively in the world of ideas that the world of facts seems trifling, nothing is worth the while; and he has been so long objectless and purposeless, so far as actual life is concerned, that, when at last an object and an aim are forced upon him, he cannot deal with them, and gropes about vainly for a motive outside of himself that shall marshal his thoughts for him and guide his faculties into the path of action. He is the victim not so much of feebleness of will as of an intellectual indifference that hinders the will from working long in any one direction. He wishes to will, but never wills. His continual iteration of resolve shows that he has no resolution. He is capable of passionate energy where the occasion presents itself suddenly from without, because nothing is so irritable as conscious irresolution with a duty to perform. But of deliberate energy he is not capable; for there the impulse must come from within, and the blade of his analysis is so subtile that it can divide the finest hair of motive 'twixt north and northwest side, leaving him desperate to choose between them. The very consciousness of his defect is an insuperable bar to his repairing it; for the unity of purpose, which infuses every fibre of the character with will available whenever wanted, is impossible where the mind can never rest till it has resolved that unity into its component elements, and satisfied itself which on the whole is of greater value. A critical instinct so insatiable that it must turn upon itself, for lack of something else to hew and hack, becomes incapable at last of originating anything except indecision. It becomes infallible in what _not_ to do. How easily he might have accomplished his task is shown by the conduct of Laertes. When _he_ has a death to avenge, he raises a mob, breaks into the palace, bullies the king, and proves how weak the usurper really was. The world is the victim of splendid parts, and is slow to accept a rounded whole, because that is something which is long in completing, still longer in demonstrating its completion. We like to be surprised into admiration, and not logically convinced that we ought to admire. We are willing to be delighted with success, though we are somewhat indifferent to the homely qualities which insure it. Our thought is so filled with the rocket's burst of momentary splendor so far above us, that we forget the poor stick, useful and unseen, that made its climbing possible. One of these homely qualities is continuity of character, and it escapes present applause because it tells chiefly, in the long run, in results. With his usual tact, Shakespeare has brought in such a character as a contrast and foil to Hamlet. Horatio is the only complete _man_ in the play,--solid, well-knit, and true; a noble, quiet nature, with that highest of all qualities, judgment, always sane and prompt; who never drags his anchors for any wind of opinion or fortune, but grips all the closer to the reality of things. He seems one of those calm, undemonstrative men whom we love and admire without asking to know why, crediting them with the capacity of great things, without any test of actual achievement, because we feel that their manhood is a constant quality, and no mere accident of circumstance and opportunity. Such men are always sure of the presence of their highest self on demand. Hamlet is continually drawing bills on the future, secured by his promise of himself to himself, which he can never redeem. His own somewhat feminine nature recognizes its complement in Horatio, and clings to it instinctively, as naturally as Horatio is attracted by that fatal gift of imagination, the absence of which makes the strength of his own character, as its overplus does the weakness of Hamlet's. It is a happy marriage of two minds drawn together by the charm of unlikeness. Hamlet feels in Horatio the solid steadiness which he misses in himself; Horatio in Hamlet that need of service and sustainment to render which gives him a consciousness of his own value. Hamlet fills the place of a woman to Horatio, revealing him to himself not only in what he says, but by a constant claim upon his strength of nature; and there is great psychological truth in making suicide the first impulse of this quiet, undemonstrative man, after Hamlet's death, as if the very reason for his being were taken away with his friend's need of him. In his grief, he for the first and only time speaks of himself, is first made conscious of himself by his loss. If this manly reserve of Horatio be true to Nature, not less so are the communicativeness of Hamlet, and his tendency to soliloquize. If self-consciousness be alien to the one, it is just as truly the happiness of the other. Like a musician distrustful of himself, he is forever tuning his instrument, first overstraining this cord a little, and then that, but unable to bring them into unison, or to profit by it if he could. We do not believe that Horatio ever thought he "was not a pipe for Fortune's finger to play what stop she please," till Hamlet told him so. That was Fortune's affair, not his; let her try it, if she liked. He is unconscious of his own peculiar qualities, as men of decision commonly are, or they would not be men of decision. When there is a thing to be done, they go straight at it, and for the time there is nothing for them in the whole universe but themselves and their object. Hamlet, on the other hand, is always studying himself. This world and the other, too, are always present to his mind, and there in the corner is the little black kobold of a doubt making mouths at him. He breaks down the bridges before him, not behind him, as a man of action would do; but there is something more than this. He is an ingrained sceptic; though his is the scepticism, not of reason, but of feeling, whose root is want of faith in himself. In him it is passive, a malady rather than a function of the mind. We might call him insincere: not that he was in any sense a hypocrite, but only that he never was and never could be in earnest. Never could be, because no man without intense faith in something ever can. Even if he only believed in himself, that were better than nothing; for it will carry a man a great way in the outward successes of life, nay, will even sometimes give him the Archimedean fulcrum for moving the world. But Hamlet doubts everything. He doubts the immortality of the soul, just after seeing his father's spirit, and hearing from its mouth the secrets of the other world. He doubts Horatio even, and swears him to secrecy on the cross of his sword, though probably he himself has no assured belief in the sacredness of the symbol. He doubts Ophelia, and asks her, "Are you honest?" He doubts the ghost, after he has had a little time to think about it, and so gets up the play to test the guilt of the king. And how coherent the whole character is! With what perfect tact and judgment Shakespeare, in the advice to the players, makes him an exquisite critic! For just here that part of his character which would be weak in dealing with affairs is strong. A wise scepticism is the first attribute of a good critic. He must not believe that the fire-insurance offices will raise their rates of premium on Charles River, because the new volume of poems is printing at Riverside or the University Press. He must not believe so profoundly in the ancients as to think it wholly out of the question that the world has still vigor enough in its loins to beget some one who will one of these days be as good an ancient as any of them. Another striking quality in Hamlet's nature is his perpetual inclination to irony. I think this has been generally passed over too lightly, as if it were something external and accidental, rather assumed as a mask than part of the real nature of the man. It seems to me to go deeper, to be something innate, and not merely factitious. It is nothing like the grave irony of Socrates, which was the weapon of a man thoroughly in earnest,--the _boomerang_ of argument, which one throws in the opposite direction of what he means to hit, and which seems to be flying away from the adversary, who will presently find himself knocked down by it. It is not like the irony of Timon, which is but the wilful refraction of a clear mind twisting awry whatever enters it,--or of Iago, which is the slime that a nature essentially evil loves to trail over all beauty and goodness to taint them with distrust: it is the half-jest, half-earnest of an inactive temperament that has not quite made up its mind whether life is a reality or no, whether men were not made in jest, and which amuses itself equally with finding a deep meaning in trivial things and a trifling one in the profoundest mysteries of being, because the want of earnestness in its own essence infects everything else with its own indifference. If there be now and then an unmannerly rudeness and bitterness in it, as in the scenes with Polonius and Osrick, we must remember that Hamlet was just in the condition which spurs men to sallies of this kind: dissatisfied, at one neither with the world nor with himself, and accordingly casting about for something out of himself to vent his spleen upon. But even in these passages there is no hint of earnestness, of any purpose beyond the moment; they are mere cat's-paws of vexation, and not the deep-raking ground-swell of passion, as we see it in the sarcasm of Lear. The question of Hamlet's madness has been much discussed and variously decided. High medical authority has pronounced, as usual, on both sides of the question. But the induction has been drawn from too narrow premises, being based on a mere diagnosis of the _case_, and not on an appreciation of the character in its completeness. We have a case of pretended madness in the Edgar of _King Lear_; and it is certainly true that that is a charcoal sketch, coarsely outlined, compared with the delicate drawing, the lights, shades, and half-tints of the portraiture in Hamlet. But does this tend to prove that the madness of the latter, because truer to the recorded observation of experts, is real, and meant to be real, as the other to be fictitious? Not in the least, as it appears to me. Hamlet, among all the characters of Shakespeare, is the most eminently a metaphysician and psychologist. He is a close observer, continually analyzing his own nature and that of others, letting fall his little drops of acid irony on all who come near him, to make them show what they are made of. Even Ophelia is not too sacred, Osrick not too contemptible for experiment. If such a man assumed madness, he would play his part perfectly. If Shakespeare himself, without going mad, could so observe and remember all the abnormal symptoms as to be able to reproduce them in Hamlet, why should it be beyond the power of Hamlet to reproduce them in himself? If you deprive Hamlet of reason, there is no truly tragic motive left. He would be a fit subject for Bedlam, but not for the stage. We might have pathology enough, but no pathos. Ajax first becomes tragic when he recovers his wits. If Hamlet is irresponsible, the whole play is a chaos. That he is not so might be proved by evidence enough, were it not labor thrown away. This feigned madness of Hamlet's is one of the few points in which Shakespeare has kept close to the old story on which he founded his play; and as he never decided without deliberation, so he never acted without unerring judgment, Hamlet _drifts_ through the whole tragedy. He never keeps on one tack long enough to get steerage-way, even if, in a nature like his, with those electric streamers of whim and fancy forever wavering across the vault of his brain, the needle of judgment would point in one direction long enough to strike a course by. The scheme of simulated insanity is precisely the one he would have been likely to hit upon, because it enabled him to follow his own bent, and to drift with an apparent purpose, postponing decisive action by the very means he adopts to arrive at its accomplishment, and satisfying himself with the show of doing something that he may escape so much the longer the dreaded necessity of really doing anything at all. It enables him to _play_ with life and duty, instead of taking them by the rougher side, where alone any firm grip is possible,--to feel that he is on the way toward accomplishing somewhat, when he is really paltering with his own irresolution. Nothing, I think, could be more finely imagined than this. Voltaire complains that he goes mad without any sufficient object or result. Perfectly true, and precisely what was most natural for him to do, and, accordingly, precisely what Shakespeare meant that he should do. It was delightful to him to indulge his imagination and humor, to prove his capacity for something by playing a part: the one thing he could not do was to bring himself to _act_, unless when surprised by a sudden impulse of suspicion,--as where he kills Polonius, and there he could not see his victim. He discourses admirably of suicide, but does not kill himself; he talks daggers, but uses none. He puts by the chance to kill the king with the excuse that he will not do it while he is praying, lest his soul be saved thereby, though it is more than doubtful whether he believed it himself. He allows himself to be packed off to England, without any motive except that it would for the time take him farther from a present duty: the more disagreeable to a nature like his because it _was_ present, and not a mere matter for speculative consideration. When Goethe made his famous comparison of the acorn planted in a vase which it bursts with its growth, and says that in like manner Hamlet is a nature which breaks down under the weight of a duty too great for it to bear, he seems to have considered the character too much from one side. Had Hamlet actually killed himself to escape his too onerous commission, Goethe's conception of him would have been satisfactory enough. But Hamlet was hardly a sentimentalist, like Werther; on the contrary, he saw things only too clearly in the dry north-light of the intellect. It is chance that at last brings him to his end. It would appear rather that Shakespeare intended to show us an imaginative temperament brought face to face with actualities, into any clear relation of sympathy with which it cannot bring itself. The very means that Shakespeare makes use of to lay upon him the obligation of acting--the ghost--really seems to make it all the harder for him to act; for the spectre but gives an additional excitement to his imagination and a fresh topic for his scepticism. I shall not attempt to evolve any high moral significance from the play, even if I thought it possible; for that would be aside from the present purpose. The scope of the higher drama is to represent life, not everyday life, it is true, but life lifted above the plane of bread-and-butter associations, by nobler reaches of language, by the influence at once inspiring and modulating of verse, by an intenser play of passion condensing that misty mixture of feeling and reflection which makes the ordinary atmosphere of existence into flashes of thought and phrase whose brief, but terrible, illumination prints the outworn landscape of every-day upon our brains, with its little motives and mean results, in lines of tell-tale fire. The moral office of tragedy is to show us our own weaknesses idealized in grander figures and more awful results,--to teach us that what we pardon in our selves as venial faults, if they seem to have but slight influence on our immediate fortunes, have arms as long as those of kings, and reach forward to the catastrophe of our lives, that they are dry-rotting the very fibre of will and conscience, so that, if we should be brought to the test of a great temptation or a stringent emergency, we must be involved in a ruin as sudden and complete as that we shudder at in the unreal scene of the theatre. But the primary _object_ of a tragedy is not to inculcate a formal moral. Representing life, it teaches, like life, by indirection, by those nods and winks that are thrown away on us blind horses in such profusion. We may learn, to be sure, plenty of lessons from Shakespeare. We are not likely to have kingdoms to divide, crowns foretold us by weird sisters, a father's death to avenge, or to kill our wives from jealousy; but Lear may teach us to draw the line more clearly between a wise generosity and a loose-handed weakness of giving; Macbeth, how one sin involves another, and forever another, by a fatal parthenogenesis, and that the key which unlocks forbidden doors to our will or passion leaves a stain on the hand, that may not be so dark as blood, but that will not out; Hamlet, that all the noblest gifts of person, temperament, and mind slip like sand through the grasp of an infirm purpose; Othello, that the perpetual silt of some one weakness, the eddies of a suspicious temper depositing their one impalpable layer after another, may build up a shoal on which an heroic life and an otherwise magnanimous nature may bilge and go to pieces. All this we may learn, and much more, and Shakespeare was no doubt well aware of all this and more; but I do not believe that he wrote his plays with any such didactic purpose. He knew human nature too well not to know that one thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning,--that, where one man shapes his life by precept and example, there are a thousand who have it shaped for them by impulse and by circumstances. He did not mean his great tragedies for scarecrows, as if the nailing of one hawk to the barn-door would prevent the next from coming down souse into the hen-yard. No, it is not the poor bleaching victim hung up to moult its draggled feathers in the rain that he wishes to show us. He loves the hawk-nature as well as the hen-nature; and if he is unequalled in anything, it is in that sunny breadth of view, that impregnability of reason, that looks down all ranks and conditions of men, all fortune and misfortune, with the equal eye of the pure artist. Whether I have fancied anything into Hamlet which the author never dreamed of putting there I do not greatly concern myself to inquire. Poets are always entitled to a royalty on whatever we find in their works; for these fine creations as truly build themselves up in the brain as they are built up with deliberate forethought. Praise art as we will, that which the artist did not mean to put into his work, but which found itself there by some generous process of Nature of which he was as unaware as the blue river is of its rhyme with the blue sky, has somewhat in it that snatches us into sympathy with higher things than those which come by plot and observation. Goethe wrote his _Faust_ in its earliest form without a thought of the deeper meaning which the exposition of an age of criticism was to find in it: without foremeaning it, he had impersonated in Mephistopheles the genius of his century. Shall this subtract from the debt we owe him? Not at all. If originality were conscious of itself, it would have lost its right to be original. I believe that Shakespeare intended to impersonate in Hamlet not a mere metaphysical entity, but a man of flesh and blood: yet it is certainly curious how prophetically typical the character is of that introversion of mind which is so constant a phenomenon of these latter days, of that over-consciousness which wastes itself in analyzing the motives of action instead of acting. The old painters had a rule, that all compositions should be pyramidal in form,--a central figure, from which the others slope gradually away on the two sides. Shakespeare probably had never heard of this rule, and, if he had, would not have been likely to respect it more than he has the so-called classical unities of time and place. But he understood perfectly the artistic advantages of gradation, contrast, and relief. Taking Hamlet as the key-note, we find in him weakness of character, which, on the one hand, is contrasted with the feebleness that springs from overweening conceit in Polonius and with frailty of temperament in Ophelia, while, on the other hand, it is brought into fuller relief by the steady force of Horatio and the impulsive violence of Laertes, who is resolute from thoughtlessness, just as Hamlet is irresolute from overplus of thought. If we must draw a moral from Hamlet, it would seem to be, that Will is Fate, and that, Will once abdicating, the inevitable successor in the regency is Chance. Had Hamlet acted, instead of musing how good it would be to act, the king might have been the only victim. As it is, all the main actors in the story are the fortuitous sacrifice of his irresolution. We see how a single great vice of character at last draws to itself as allies and confederates all other weaknesses of the man, as in civil wars the timid and the selfish wait to throw themselves upon the stronger side. "In Life's small things be resolute and great To keep thy muscles trained: know'st thou when Fate Thy measure takes? or when she'll say to thee, 'I find thee worthy, do this thing for me'?" I have said that it was doubtful if Shakespeare had any conscious moral intention in his writings. I meant only that he was purely and primarily poet. And while he was an English poet in a sense that is true of no other, his method was thoroughly Greek, yet with this remarkable difference,--that, while the Greek dramatists took purely national themes and gave them a universal interest by their mode of treatment, he took what may be called cosmopolitan traditions, legends of human nature, and nationalized them by the infusion of his perfectly Anglican breadth of character and solidity of understanding. Wonderful as his imagination and fancy are, his perspicacity and artistic discretion are more so. This country tradesman's son, coming up to London, could set high-bred wits, like Beaumont, uncopiable lessons in drawing gentlemen such as are seen nowhere else but on the canvas of Titian; he could take Ulysses away from Homer and expand the shrewd and crafty islander into a statesman whose words are the pith of history. But what makes him yet more exceptional was his utterly unimpeachable judgment, and that poise of character which enabled him to be at once the greatest of poets and so unnoticeable a good citizen as to leave no incidents for biography. His material was never far-sought; (it is still disputed whether the fullest head of which we have record were cultivated beyond the range of grammar-school precedent!) but he used it with a poetic instinct which we cannot parallel, identified himself with it, yet remained always its born and questionless master. He finds the Clown and Fool upon the stage,--he makes them the tools of his pleasantry, his satire, and even his pathos; he finds a fading rustic superstition, and shapes out of it ideal Pucks, Titanias, and Ariels, in whose existence statesmen and scholars believe forever. Always poet, he subjects all to the ends of his art, and gives in Hamlet the churchyard ghost, but with the cothurnus on,--the messenger of God's revenge against murder; always philosopher, he traces in Macbeth the metaphysics of apparitions, painting the shadowy Banquo only on the o'erwrought brain of the murderer, and staining the hand of his wife-accomplice (because she was the more refined and higher nature) with the disgustful blood-spot that is not there. We say he had no moral intention, for the reason, that, as artist, it was not his to deal with the realities, but only with the shows of things; yet, with a temperament so just, an insight so inevitable as his, it was impossible that the moral reality, which underlies the _mirage_ of the poet's vision, should not always be suggested. His humor and satire are never of the destructive kind; what he does in that way is suggestive only,--not breaking bubbles with Thor's hammer, but puffing them away with the breath of a Clown, or shivering them with the light laugh of a genial cynic. Men go about to prove the existence of a God! Was it a bit of phosphorus, that brain whose creations are so real, that, mixing with them, we feel as if we ourselves were but fleeting magic-lantern shadows? But higher even than the genius we rate the character of this unique man, and the grand impersonality of what he wrote. What has he told us of himself? In our self-exploiting nineteenth century, with its melancholy liver-complaint, how serene and high he seems! If he had sorrows, he has made them the woof of everlasting consolation to his kind; and if, as poets are wont to whine, the outward world was cold to him, its biting air did but trace itself in loveliest frost-work of fancy on the many windows of that self-centred and cheerful soul. Footnotes: [119] As where Ben Jonson is able to say,-- "Man may securely sin, but safely never." [120] "Vulgarem locutionem anpellamus cam qua infantes adsuefiunt ab adsistentibus cum primitus distinguere voces incipiunt: vel, quod brevius dici potest, vulgarem locutionem asserimus _quam sine omni regula, nutricem imitantes accepimus_." Dantes, _de Vulg. Eloquio_, Lib I. cap. i. [121] Gray, himself a painful corrector, told Nicholls that "nothing was done so well as at the first concoction,"--adding, as a reason, "We think in words." Ben Jonson said, it was a pity Shakespeare had not blotted more, for that he sometimes wrote nonsense,--and cited in proof of it the verse, "Caesar did never wrong but with just cause." The last four words do not appear in the passage as it now stands, and Professor Craik suggests that they were stricken out in consequence of Jonson's criticism. This is very probable; but we suspect that the pen that blotted them was in the hand of Master Heminge or his colleague. The moral confusion in the idea was surely admirably characteristic of the general who had just accomplished a successful _coup d'etat_, the condemnation of which he would fancy that he read in the face of every honest man he met, and which he would therefore be forever indirectly palliating. [122] We use the word _Latin_ here to express words derived either mediately or immediately from that language. [123] The prose of Chaucer (1390) and of Sir Thomas Malory (translating from the French, 1470) is less Latinized than that of Bacon, Browne, Taylor, or Milton. The glossary to Spenser's _Shepherd's Calendar_ (1679) explains words of Teutonic and Romanic root in about equal proportions. The parallel but independent development of Scotch is not to be forgotten. [124] I believe that for the last two centuries the Latin radicals of English have been more familiar and homelike to those who use them than the Teutonic. Even so accomplished a person as Professor Crail, in his _English of Shakespeare_, derives _head_, through the German _haupt_, from the Latin _caput_! I trust that its genealogy is nobler, and that it is of kin with _coelum, tueri_, rather than with the Greek [kephalae], if Suidas be right in tracing the origin of that to a word meaning _vacuity_. Mr. Craik suggests, also, that _quick_ and _wicked_ may be etymologically identical, _because_ he fancies a relationship between _busy_ and the German _böse_, though _wicked_ is evidently the participial form of A. S. _wacan_, (German _weichen_,) _to bend, to yield_, meaning _one who has given way to temptation_, while _quick_ seems as clearly related to _wegan_, meaning _to move_, a different word, even if radically the same. In the "London Literary Gazette" for November 13,1858, I find an extract from Miss Millington's "Heraldry in History, Poetry, and Romance," in which, speaking of the motto of the Prince of Wales,--_De par Houmaut ich diene_,--she says; "The precise meaning of the former word [_Houmout_] has not, I think, been ascertained." The word is plainly the German _Hochmuth_, and the whole would read, _De par (Aus) Hochmuth ich diene_,--"Out of magnanimity I serve." So entirely lost is the Saxon meaning of the word _knave_, (A. S. _cnava_, German _knabe_,) that the name _navvie_, assumed by railway-laborers, has been transmogrified into _navigator_. I believe that more people could tell why the month of July was so called than could explain the origin of the names for our days of the week, and that it is oftener the Saxon than the French words in Chaucer that puzzle the modern reader. [125] _De Vulgari Eloquio_, Lib. II. cap. i. _ad finem_. I quote this treatise as Dante's, because the thoughts seem manifestly his; though I believe that in its present form it is an abridgment by some transcriber, who sometimes copies textually, and sometimes substitutes his own language for that of the original. [126] Vol. III. p. 348, _note_. He grounds his belief, not on the misprinting of words, but on the misplacing of whole paragraphs. We were struck with the same thing in the original edition of Chapman's "Biron's Conspiracy and Tragedy." And yet, in comparing two copies of this edition, I have found corrections which only the author could have made. One of the misprints which Mr. Spedding notices affords both a hint and a warning to the conjectural emendator. In the edition of "The Advancement of Learning" printed in 1605 occurs the word _dusinesse_. In a later edition this was conjecturally changed to _business_; but the occurrence of _vertigine_ in the Latin translation enables Mr. Spedding to print rightly, _dizziness_. [127] "At first sight, Shakespeare and his contemporary dramatists seem to write in styles much alike; nothing so easy as to fall into that of Massinger and the others; whilst no one has ever yet produced one scene conceived and expressed in the Shakespearian idiom. I suppose it is because Shakespeare is universal, and, in fact, has no _manner_."--_Coleridge's Tabletalk_, 214. [128] Pheidias said of one of his pupils that he had an inspired thumb, because the modelling-clay yielded to its careless sweep a grace of curve which it refused to the utmost pains of others. [129] The best instance I remember is in the _Frogs_, where Bacchus pleads his inexperience at the oar, and says he is [Greek: apeiros, athalattotos, asalaminios,] which might be rendered, Unskilled, unsea-soned, and un-Salamised. [130] So Euripides (copied by Theocritus, Id. xxvii.):-- [Greek: Pentheus d' opos mae penthos eisoisei domois] (_Bacchae_, 363.) [Greek: _Esophronaesen ouk echousa sophronein_]. (_Hippol_., 1037.) So Calderon: "Y apenas llega, cuando llega á penas." [131] I have taken the first passage in point that occurred to my memory. It may not be Shakespeare's, though probably his. The question of authorship is, I think, settled, so far as criticism can do it, in Mr. Grant White's admirable essay appended to the Second Part of Henry VI. [132] Shakspeare und kein Ende. [133] I do not mention Ulrici's book, for it seems to me unwieldy and dull,--zeal without knowledge. NEW ENGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO.[134] The history of New England is written imperishably on the face of a continent, and in characters as beneficent as they are enduring. In the Old World national pride feeds itself with the record of battles and conquests;--battles which proved nothing and settled nothing; conquests which shifted a boundary on the map, and put one ugly head instead of another on the coin which the people paid to the tax-gatherer. But wherever the New-Englander travels among the sturdy commonwealths which have sprung from the seed of the Mayflower, churches, schools, colleges, tell him where the men of his race have been, or their influence penetrated; and an intelligent freedom is the monument of conquests whose results are not to be measured in square miles. Next to the fugitives whom Moses led out of Egypt, the little ship-load of outcasts who landed at Plymouth two centuries and a half ago are destined to influence the future of the world. The spiritual thirst of mankind has for ages been quenched at Hebrew fountains; but the embodiment in human institutions of truths uttered by the Son of man eighteen centuries ago was to be mainly the work of Puritan thought and Puritan self-devotion. Leave New England out in the cold! While you are plotting it, she sits by every fireside in the land where there is piety, culture, and free thought. Faith in God, faith in man, faith in work,--this is the short formula in which we may sum up the teaching of the founders of New England, a creed ample enough for this life and the next. If their municipal regulations smack somewhat of Judaism, yet there can be no nobler aim or more practical wisdom than theirs; for it was to make the law of man a living counterpart of the law of God, in their highest conception of it. Were they too earnest in the strife to save their souls alive? That is still the problem which every wise and brave man is lifelong in solving. If the Devil take a less hateful shape to us than to our fathers, he is as busy with us as with them; and if we cannot find it in our hearts to break with a gentleman of so much worldly wisdom, who gives such admirable dinners, and whose manners are so perfect, so much the worse for us. Looked at on the outside, New England history is dry and unpicturesque. There is no rustle of silks, no waving of plumes, no clink of golden spurs. Our sympathies are not awakened by the changeful destinies, the rise and fall, of great families, whose doom was in their blood. Instead of all this, we have the homespun fates of Cephas and Prudence repeated in an infinite series of peaceable sameness, and finding space enough for record in the family Bible; we have the noise of axe and hammer and saw, an apotheosis of dogged work, where, reversing the fairy-tale, nothing is left to luck, and, if there be any poetry, it is something that cannot be helped,--the waste of the water over the dam. Extrinsically, it is prosaic and plebeian; intrinsically, it is poetic and noble; for it is, perhaps, the most perfect incarnation of an idea the world has ever seen. That idea was not to found a democracy, nor to charter the city of New Jerusalem by an act of the General Court, as gentlemen seem to think whose notions of history and human nature rise like an exhalation from the good things at a Pilgrim Society dinner. Not in the least. They had no faith in the Divine institution of a system which gives Teague, because he can dig, as much influence as Ralph, because he can think, nor in personal at the expense of general freedom. Their view of human rights was not so limited that it could not take in human relations and duties also. They would have been likely to answer the claim, "I am as good as anybody," by a quiet "Yes, for some things, but not for others; as good, doubtless, in your place, where all things are good." What the early settlers of Massachusetts _did_ intend, and what they accomplished, was the founding here of a _new_ England, and a better one, where the political superstitions and abuses of the old should never have leave to take root. So much, we may say, they deliberately intended. No nobles, either lay or cleric, no great landed estates, and no universal ignorance as the seed-plot of vice and unreason; but an elective magistracy and clergy, land for all who would till it, and reading and writing, will ye nill ye, instead. Here at last, it would seem, simple manhood is to have a chance to play his stake against Fortune with honest dice, uncogged by those three hoary sharpers, Prerogative, Patricianism, and Priestcraft. Whoever has looked into the pamphlets published in England during the Great Rebellion cannot but have been struck by the fact, that the principles and practice of the Puritan Colony had begun to react with considerable force on the mother country; and the policy of the retrograde party there, after the Restoration, in its dealings with New England, finds a curious parallel as to its motives (time will show whether as to its results) in the conduct of the same party towards America during the last four years.[135] This influence and this fear alike bear witness to the energy of the principles at work here. We have said that the details of New England history were essentially dry and unpoetic. Everything is near, authentic, and petty. There is no mist of distance to soften outlines, no mirage of tradition to give characters and events an imaginative loom. So much downright work was perhaps never wrought on the earth's surface in the same space of time as during the first forty years after the settlement. But mere work is unpicturesque, and void of sentiment. Irving instinctively divined and admirably illustrated in his "Knickerbocker" the humorous element which lies in this nearness of view, this clear, prosaic daylight of modernness, and this poverty of stage properties, which makes the actors and the deeds they were concerned in seem ludicrously small when contrasted with the semi-mythic grandeur in which we have clothed them, as we look backward from the crowned result, and fancy a cause as majestic as our conception of the effect. There was, indeed, one poetic side to the existence otherwise so narrow and practical; and to have conceived this, however partially, is the one original and American thing in Cooper. This diviner glimpse illumines the lives of our Daniel Boones, the man of civilization and old-world ideas confronted with our forest solitudes,--confronted, too, for the first time, with his real self, and so led gradually to disentangle the original substance of his manhood from the artificial results of culture. Here was our new Adam of the wilderness, forced to name anew, not the visible creation of God, but the invisible creation of man, in those forms that lie at the base of social institutions, so insensibly moulding personal character and controlling individual action. Here is the protagonist of our New World epic, a figure as poetic as that of Achilles, as ideally representative as that of Don Quixote, as romantic in its relation to our homespun and plebeian mythus as Arthur in his to the mailed and plumed cycle of chivalry. We do not mean, of course, that Cooper's "Leatherstocking" is all this or anything like it, but that the character typified in him is ideally and potentially all this and more. But whatever was poetical in the lives of the early New-Englanders had something shy, if not sombre, about it. If their natures flowered, it was out of sight, like the fern. It was in the practical that they showed their true quality, as Englishmen are wont. It has been the fashion lately with a few feeble-minded persons to undervalue the New England Puritans, as if they were nothing more than gloomy and narrow-minded fanatics. But all the charges brought against these large-minded and far-seeing men are precisely those which a really able fanatic, Joseph de Maistre, lays at the door of Protestantism. Neither a knowledge of human nature nor of history justifies us in confounding, as is commonly done, the Puritans of Old and New England, or the English Puritans of the third with those of the fifth decade of the seventeenth century. Fanaticism, or, to call it by its milder name, enthusiasm, is only powerful and active so long as it is aggressive. Establish it firmly in power, and it becomes conservatism, whether it will or no. A sceptre once put in the hand, the grip is instinctive; and he who is firmly seated in authority soon learns to think security, and not progress, the highest lesson of statecraft. From the summit of power men no longer turn their eyes upward, but begin to look about them. Aspiration sees only one side of every question; possession, many. And the English Puritans, after their revolution was accomplished, stood in even a more precarious position than most successful assailants of the prerogative of whatever _is_ to continue in being. They had carried a political end by means of a religious revival. The fulcrum on which they rested their lever to overturn the existing order of things (as history always placidly calls the particular forms of _dis_order for the time being) was in the soul of man. They could not renew the fiery gush of enthusiasm, when once the molten metal had begun to stiffen in the mould of policy and precedent. The religious element of Puritanism became insensibly merged in the political; and, its one great man taken away, it died, as passions have done before, of possession. It was one thing to shout with Cromwell before the battle of Dunbar, "Now, Lord, arise, and let thine enemies be scattered!" and to snuffle, "Rise, Lord, and keep us safe in our benefices, our sequestered estates, and our five per cent!" Puritanism meant something when Captain Hodgson, riding out to battle through the morning mist, turns over the command of his troop to a lieutenant, and stays to hear the prayer of a cornet, there was "so much of God in it." Become traditional, repeating the phrase without the spirit, reading the present backward as if it were written in Hebrew, translating Jehovah by "I was" instead of "I am,"--it was no more like its former self than the hollow drum made of Zisca's skin was like the grim captain whose soul it had once contained. Yet the change was inevitable, for it is not safe to confound the things of Caesar with the things of God. Some honest republicans, like Ludlow, were never able to comprehend the chilling contrast between the ideal aim and the material fulfilment, and looked askance on the strenuous reign of Oliver,--that rugged boulder of primitive manhood lying lonely there on the dead level of the century,--as if some crooked changeling had been laid in the cradle instead of that fair babe of the Commonwealth they had dreamed. Truly there is a tide in the affairs of men, but there is no gulf-stream setting forever in one direction; and those waves of enthusiasm on whose crumbling crests we sometimes see nations lifted for a gleaming moment are wont to have a gloomy trough before and behind. But the founders of New England, though they must have sympathized vividly with the struggles and triumphs of their brethren in the mother country, were never subjected to the same trials and temptations, never hampered with the same lumber of usages and tradition. They were not driven to win power by doubtful and desperate ways, nor to maintain it by any compromises of the ends which make it worth having. From the outset they were builders, without need of first pulling down, whether to make room or to provide material. For thirty years after the colonization of the Bay, they had absolute power to mould as they would the character of their adolescent commonwealth. During this time a whole generation would have grown to manhood who knew the Old World only by report, in whose habitual thought kings, nobles, and bishops would be as far away from all present and practical concern as the figures in a fairy-tale, and all whose memories and associations, all their unconscious training by eye and ear, were New English wholly. Nor were the men whose influence was greatest in shaping the framework and the policy of the Colony, in any true sense of the word, fanatics. Enthusiasts, perhaps, they were, but with then the fermentation had never gone further than the ripeness of the vinous stage. Disappointment had never made it acetous, nor had it ever putrefied into the turbid zeal of Fifth Monarchism and sectarian whimsey. There is no better ballast for keeping the mind steady on its keel, and saving it from all risk of _crankiness_, than business. And they were business men, men of facts and figures no less than of religious earnestness. The sum of two hundred thousand pounds had been invested in their undertaking,--a sum, for that time, truly enormous as the result of private combination for a doubtful experiment. That their enterprise might succeed, they must show a balance on the right side of the countinghouse ledger, as well as in their private accounts with their own souls. The liberty of praying when and how they would, must be balanced with an ability of paying when and as they ought. Nor is the resulting fact in this case at variance with the _a priori_ theory. They succeeded in making their thought the life and soul of a body politic, still powerful, still benignly operative, after two centuries; a thing which no mere fanatic ever did or ever will accomplish. Sober, earnest, and thoughtful men, it was no Utopia, no New Atlantis, no realization of a splendid dream, which they had at heart, but the establishment of the divine principle of Authority on the common interest and the common consent; the making, by a contribution from the free-will of all, a power which should curb and guide the free-will of each for the general good. If they were stern in their dealings with sectaries, it should be remembered that the Colony was in fact the private property of the Massachusetts Company, that unity was essential to its success, and that John of Leyden had taught them how unendurable by the nostrils of honest men is the corruption of the right of private judgment in the evil and selfish hearts of men when no thorough mental training has developed the understanding and given the judgment its needful means of comparison and correction. They knew that liberty in the hands of feeble-minded and unreasoning persons (and all the worse if they are honest) means nothing more than the supremacy of their particular form of imbecility; means nothing less, therefore, than downright chaos, a Bedlam-chaos of monomaniacs and bores. What was to be done with men and women, who bore conclusive witness to the fall of man by insisting on walking up the broad-aisle of the meeting-house in a costume which that event had put forever out of fashion! About their treatment of witches, too, there has been a great deal of ignorant babble. Puritanism had nothing whatever to do with it. They acted under a delusion, which, with an exception here and there (and those mainly medical men, like Wierus and Webster), darkened the understanding of all Christendom. Dr. Henry More was no Puritan; and his letter to Glanvil, prefixed to the third edition of the "Sadducismus Triumphatus," was written in 1678, only fourteen years before the trials at Salem. Bekker's "Bezauberte Welt" was published in 1693; and in the Preface he speaks of the difficulty of overcoming "the prejudices in which not only ordinary men, but the learned also, are obstinate." In Hathaway's case, 1702, Chief-Justice Holt, in charging the jury, expresses no disbelief in the possibility of witchcraft, and the indictment implies its existence. Indeed, the natural reaction from the Salem mania of 1692 put an end to belief in devilish compacts and demoniac possessions sooner in New England than elsewhere. The last we hear of it there is in 1720, when Rev. Mr. Turell of Medford detected and exposed an attempted cheat by two girls. Even in 1692, it was the foolish breath of Cotton Mather and others of the clergy that blew the dying embers of this ghastly superstition into a flame; and they were actuated partly by a desire to bring about a religious revival, which might stay for a while the hastening lapse of their own authority, and still more by that credulous scepticism of feeble-minded piety which, dreads the cutting away of an orthodox tumor of misbelief, as if the life-blood of faith would follow, and would keep even a stumbling-block in the way of salvation, if only enough generations had tripped over it to make it venerable. The witches were condemned on precisely the same grounds that in our day led to the condemnation of "Essays and Reviews." But Puritanism was already in the decline when such things were possible. What had been a wondrous and intimate experience of the soul, a flash into the very crypt and basis of man's nature from the fire of trial, had become ritual and tradition. In prosperous times the faith of one generation becomes the formality of the next. "The necessity of a reformation," set forth by order of the Synod which met at Cambridge in 1679, though no doubt overstating the case, shows how much even at that time the ancient strictness had been loosened. The country had grown rich, its commerce was large, and wealth did its natural work in making life softer and more worldly, commerce in deprovincializing the minds of those engaged in it. But Puritanism had already done its duty. As there are certain creatures whose whole being seems occupied with an egg-laying errand they are sent upon, incarnate ovipositors, their bodies but bags to hold this precious deposit, their legs of use only to carry them where they may safeliest be rid of it, so sometimes a generation seems to have no other end than the conception and ripening of certain germs. Its blind stirrings, its apparently aimless seeking hither and thither, are but the driving of an instinct to be done with its parturient function toward these principles of future life and power. Puritanism, believing itself quick with the seed of religious liberty, laid, without knowing it, the egg of democracy. The English Puritans pulled down church and state to rebuild Zion on the ruins, and all the while it was not Zion, but America, they were building. But if their millennium went by, like the rest, and left men still human; if they, like so many saints and martyrs before them, listened in vain for the sound of that trumpet which was to summon all souls to a resurrection from the body of this death which men call life,--it is not for us, at least, to forget the heavy debt we owe them. It was the drums of Naseby and Dunbar that gathered the minute-men on Lexington Common; it was the red dint of the axe on Charles's block that marked One in our era. The Puritans had their faults. They were narrow, ungenial; they could not understand the text, "I have piped to you and ye have not danced," nor conceive that saving one's soul should be the cheerfullest, and not the dreariest, of businesses. Their preachers had a way, like the painful Mr. Perkins, of pronouncing the word _damn_ with such an emphasis as left a doleful echo in their auditors' ears a good while after. And it was natural that men who captained or accompanied the exodus from existing forms and associations into the doubtful wilderness that led to the promised land, should find more to their purpose in the Old Testament than in the New. As respects the New England settlers, however visionary some of their religious tenets may have been, their political ideas savored of the realty, and it was no Nephelococcygia of which they drew the plan, but of a commonwealth whose foundation was to rest on solid and familiar earth. If what they did was done in a corner, the results of it were to be felt to the ends of the earth; and the figure of Winthrop should be as venerable in history as that of Romulus is barbarously grand in legend. I am inclined to think that many of our national characteristics, which are sometimes attributed to climate and sometimes to institutions, are traceable to the influences of Puritan descent. We are apt to forget how very large a proportion of our population is descended from emigrants who came over before 1660. Those emigrants were in great part representatives of that element of English character which was most susceptible of religious impressions; in other words, the most earnest and imaginative. Our people still differ from their English cousins (as they are fond of calling themselves when they are afraid we may do them a mischief) in a certain capacity for enthusiasm, a devotion to abstract principle, an openness to ideas, a greater aptness for intuitions than for the slow processes of the syllogism, and, as derivative from this, in minds of looser texture, a light-armed, skirmishing habit of thought, and a positive preference of the birds in the bush,--an excellent quality of character _before_ you have your bird in the hand. There have been two great distributing centres of the English race on this continent, Massachusetts and Virginia. Each has impressed the character of its early legislators on the swarms it has sent forth. Their ideas are in some fundamental respects the opposites of each other, and we can only account for it by an antagonism of thought beginning with the early framers of their respective institutions. New England abolished caste; in Virginia they still talk of "quality folks." But it was in making education not only common to all, but in some sense compulsory on all, that the destiny of the free republics of America was practically settled. Every man was to be trained, not only to the use of arms, but of his wits also; and it is these which alone make the others effective weapons for the maintenance of freedom. You may disarm the hands, but not the brains, of a people, and to know what should be defended is the first condition of successful defence. Simple as it seems, it was a great discovery that the key of knowledge could turn both ways, that it could open, as well as lock, the door of power to the many. The only things a New-Englander was ever locked out of were the jails. It is quite true that our Republic is the heir of the English Commonwealth; but as we trace events backward to their causes, we shall find it true also, that what made our Revolution a foregone conclusion was that act of the General Court, passed in May, 1647, which established the system of common schools. "To the end that learning may not be buried in the graves of our forefathers in Church and Commonwealth, the Lord assisting our endeavors, it is therefore ordered by this Court and authority thereof, that every township in this jurisdiction, after the Lord hath increased them to fifty householders, shall then forthwith appoint one within their towns to teach all such children as shall resort to him to write and read." Passing through some Massachusetts village, perhaps at a distance from any house, it may be in the midst of a piece of woods where four roads meet, one may sometimes even yet see a small square one-story building, whose use would not be long doubtful. It is summer, and the flickering shadows of forest-leaves dapple the roof of the little porch, whose door stands wide, and shows, hanging on either hand, rows of straw hats and bonnets, that look as if they had done good service. As you pass the open windows, you hear whole platoons of high-pitched voices discharging words of two or three syllables with wonderful precision and unanimity. Then there is a pause, and the voice of the officer in command is heard reproving some raw recruit whose vocal musket hung fire. Then the drill of the small infantry begins anew, but pauses again because some urchin--who agrees with Voltaire that the superfluous is a very necessary thing--insists on spelling "subtraction" with an _s_ too much. If you had the good fortune to be born and bred in the Bay State, your mind is thronged with half-sad, half-humorous recollections. The a-b abs of little voices long since hushed in the mould, or ringing now in the pulpit, at the bar, or in the Senate-chamber, come back to the ear of memory. You remember the high stool on which culprits used to be elevated with the tall paper fool's-cap on their heads, blushing to the ears; and you think with wonder how you have seen them since as men climbing the world's penance-stools of ambition without a blush, and gladly giving everything for life's caps and bells. And you have pleasanter memories of going after pond-lilies, of angling for horn-pouts,--that queer bat among the fishes,--of nutting, of walking over the creaking snow-crust in winter, when the warm breath of every household was curling up silently in the keen blue air. You wonder if life has any rewards more solid and permanent than the Spanish dollar that was hung around your neck to be restored again next day, and conclude sadly that it was but too true a prophecy and emblem of all worldly success. But your moralizing is broken short off by a rattle of feet and the pouring forth of the whole swarm,--the boys dancing and shouting,--the mere effervescence of the fixed air of youth and animal spirits uncorked,--the sedater girls in confidential twos and threes decanting secrets out of the mouth of one cape-bonnet into that of another. Times have changed since the jackets and trousers used to draw up on one side of the road, and the petticoats on the other, to salute with bow and courtesy the white neckcloth of the parson or the squire, if it chanced to pass during intermission. Now this little building, and others like it, were an original kind of fortification invented by the founders of New England. They are the martello-towers that protect our coast. This was the great discovery of our Puritan forefathers. They were the first lawgivers who saw clearly and enforced practically the simple moral and political truth, that knowledge was not an alms to be dependent on the chance charity of private men or the precarious pittance of a trust-fund, but a sacred debt which the Commonwealth owed to every one of her children. The opening of the first grammar-school was the opening of the first trench against monopoly in church and state; the first row of trammels and pothooks which the little Shearjashubs and Elkanahs blotted and blubbered across their copy-books, was the preamble to the Declaration of Independence. The men who gave every man the chance to become a landholder, who made the transfer of land easy, and put knowledge within the reach of all, have been called narrow-minded, because they were intolerant. But intolerant of what? Of what they believed to be dangerous nonsense, which, if left free, would destroy the last hope of civil and religious freedom. They had not come here that every man might do that which seemed good in his own eyes, but in the sight of God. Toleration, moreover, is something which is won, not granted. It is the equilibrium of neutralized forces. The Puritans had no notion of tolerating mischief. They looked upon their little commonwealth as upon their own private estate and homestead, as they had a right to do, and would no more allow the Devil's religion of unreason to be preached therein, than we should permit a prize-fight in our gardens. They were narrow; in other words they had an edge to them, as men that serve in great emergencies must; for a Gordian knot is settled sooner with a sword than a beetle. The founders of New England are commonly represented in the after-dinner oratory of their descendants as men "before their time," as it is called; in other words, deliberately prescient of events resulting from new relations of circumstances, or even from circumstances new in themselves, and therefore altogether alien from their own experience. Of course, such a class of men is to be reckoned among those non-existent human varieties so gravely catalogued by the ancient naturalists. If a man could shape his action with reference to what should happen a century after his death, surely it might be asked of him to call in the help of that easier foreknowledge which reaches from one day to the next,--a power of prophecy whereof we have no example. I do not object to a wholesome pride of ancestry, though a little mythical, if it be accompanied with the feeling that _noblesse oblige_, and do not result merely in a placid self-satisfaction with our own mediocrity, as if greatness, like righteousness, could be imputed. We can pardon it even in conquered races, like the Welsh and Irish, who make up to themselves for present degradation by imaginary empires in the past whose boundaries they can extend at will, carrying the bloodless conquests of fancy over regions laid down upon no map, and concerning which authentic history is enviously dumb. Those long beadrolls of Keltic kings cannot tyrannize over us, and we can be patient so long as our own crowns are uncracked by the shillalah sceptres of their actual representatives. In our own case, it would not be amiss, perhaps, if we took warning by the example of Teague and Taffy. At least, I think it would be wise in our orators not to put forward so prominently the claim of the Yankee to universal dominion, and his intention to enter upon it forthwith. If we do our duties as honestly and as much in the fear of God as our forefathers did, we need not trouble ourselves much about other titles to empire. The broad foreheads and long heads will win the day at last in spite of all heraldry, and it will be enough if we feel as keenly as our Puritan founders did that those organs of empire may be broadened and lengthened by culture.[136] That our self-complacency should not increase the complacency of outsiders is not to be wondered at. As _we_ sometimes take credit to ourselves (since all commendation of our ancestry is indirect self-flattery) for what the Puritans fathers never were, so there are others who, to gratify a spite against their descendants, blame them for not having been what they could not be; namely, before their time in such matters as slavery, witchcraft, and the like. The view, whether of friend or foe, is equally unhistorical, nay, without the faintest notion of all that makes history worth having as a teacher. That our grandfathers shared in the prejudices of their day is all that makes them human to us; and that nevertheless they could act bravely and wisely on occasion makes them only the more venerable. If certain barbarisms and superstitions disappeared earlier in New England than elsewhere, not by the decision of exceptionally enlightened or humane judges, but by force of public opinion, that is the fact that is interesting and instructive for us. I never thought it an abatement of Hawthorne's genius that he came lineally from one who sat in judgment on the witches in 1692; it was interesting rather to trace something hereditary in the sombre character of his imagination, continually vexing itself to account for the origin of evil, and baffled for want of that simple solution in a personal Devil. But I have no desire to discuss the merits or demerits of the Puritans, having long ago learned the wisdom of saving my sympathy for more modern objects than Hecuba. My object is to direct the attention of my readers to a collection of documents where they may see those worthies as they were in their daily living and thinking. The collections of our various historical and antiquarian societies can hardly be said to be _published_ in the strict sense of the word, and few consequently are aware how much they contain of interest for the general reader no less than the special student. The several volumes of "Winthrop Papers," in especial, are a mine of entertainment. Here we have the Puritans painted by themselves, and, while we arrive at a truer notion of the characters of some among them, and may accordingly sacrifice to that dreadful superstition of being usefully employed which makes so many bores and bored, we can also furtively enjoy the oddities of thought and speech, the humors of the time, which our local historians are too apt to despise as inconsidered trifles. For myself I confess myself heretic to the established theory of the gravity of history, and am not displeased with an opportunity to smile behind my hand at any ludicrous interruption of that sometimes wearisome ceremonial. I am not sure that I would not sooner give up Raleigh spreading his cloak to keep the royal Dian's feet from the mud, than that awful judgment upon the courtier whose Atlantean thighs leaked away in bran through the rent in his trunk-hose. The painful fact that Fisher had his head cut off is somewhat mitigated to me by the circumstance that the Pope should have sent him, of all things in the world, a cardinal's hat after that incapacitation. Theology herself becomes less unamiable to me when I find the Supreme Pontiff writing to the Council of Trent that "they should begin with original sin, _maintaining yet a due respect for the Emperor_." That infallibility should thus courtesy to decorum, shall make me think better of it while I live. I shall accordingly endeavor to give my readers what amusement I can, leaving it to themselves to extract solid improvement from the volumes before us, which include a part of the correspondence of three generations of Winthrops. Let me premise that there are two men above all others for whom our respect is heightened by these letters,--the elder John Winthrop and Roger Williams. Winthrop appears throughout as a truly magnanimous and noble man in an unobtrusive way,--a kind of greatness that makes less noise in the world, but is on the whole more solidly satisfying than most others,--a man who has been dipped in the river of God (a surer baptism than Styx or dragon's blood) till his character is of perfect proof, and who appears plainly as the very soul and life of the young Colony. Very reverend and godly he truly was, and a respect not merely ceremonious, but personal, a respect that savors of love, shows itself in the letters addressed to him. Charity and tolerance flow so naturally from the pen of Williams that it is plain they were in his heart. He does not show himself a very strong or very wise man, but a thoroughly gentle and good one. His affection for the two Winthrops is evidently of the warmest. We suspect that he lived to see that there was more reason in the drum-head religious discipline which made him, against his will, the founder of a commonwealth, than he may have thought at first. But for the fanaticism (as it is the fashion to call the sagacious straitness) of the abler men who knew how to root the English stock firmly in this new soil on either side of him, his little plantation could never have existed, and he himself would have been remembered only, if at all, as one of the jarring atoms in a chaos of otherwise-mindedness. Two other men, Emanuel Downing and Hugh Peter, leave a positively unpleasant savor in the nostrils. Each is selfish in his own way,--Downing with the shrewdness of an attorney, Peter with that clerical unction which in a vulgar nature so easily degenerates into greasiness. Neither of them was the man for a forlorn hope, and both returned to England when the civil war opened prospect of preferment there. Both, we suspect, were inclined to value their Puritanism for its rewards in this world rather than the next. Downing's son, Sir George, was basely prosperous, making the good cause pay him so long as it was solvent, and then selling out in season to betray his old commander, Colonel Okey, to the shambles at Charing Cross. Peter became a colonel in the Parliament's army, and under the Protectorate one of Cromwell's chaplains. On his trial, after the Restoration, he made a poor figure, in striking contrast to some of the brave men who suffered with him. At his execution a shocking brutality was shown. "When Mr Cook was cut down and brought to be quartered, one they called Colonel Turner calling to the Sheriff's men to bring Mr Peters near, that he might see it; and by and by the Hangman came to him all besmeared in blood, and rubbing his bloody hands together, he tauntingly asked, _Come, how do you like this, Mr. Peters? How do you like this work?_"[137] This Colonel Turner can hardly have been other than the one who four years later came to the hangman's hands for robbery; and whose behavior, both in the dock and at the gallows, makes his trial one of the most entertaining as a display of character. Peter would seem to have been one of those men gifted with what is sometimes called eloquence; that is, the faculty of stating things powerfully from momentary feeling, and not from that conviction of the higher reason which alone can give force and permanence to words. His letters show him subject, like others of like temperament, to fits of "hypocondriacal melancholy," and the only witness he called on his trial was to prove that he was confined to his lodgings by such an attack on the day of the king's beheading. He seems to have been subject to this malady at convenience, as some women to hysterics. Honest John Endicott plainly had small confidence in him, and did not think him the right man to represent the Colony in England. There is a droll resolve in the Massachusetts records by which he is "desired to write to Holland for 500_l._ worth of _peter_, & 40_l._ worth of match." It is with a match that we find him burning his fingers in the present correspondence. Peter seems to have entangled himself somehow with a Mrs. Deliverance Sheffield, whether maid or widow nowhere appears, but presumably the latter. The following statement of his position is amusing enough: "I have sent Mrs D. Sh. letter, which puts mee to new troubles, for though shee takes liberty upon my Cossen Downing's speeches, yet (Good Sir) let mee not be a foole in Israel. I had many good answers to yesterday's worke [a Fast] and amongst the rest her letter; which (if her owne) doth argue more wisedome than I thought shee had. You have often sayd I could not leave her; what to doe is very considerable. Could I with comfort & credit desist, this seemes best: could I goe on & content myselfe, that were good.... For though I now seeme free agayne, yet the depth I know not. Had shee come over with me, I thinke I had bin quieter. This shee may know, that I have sought God earnestly, that the nexte weeke I shall bee riper:--I doubt shee gaynes most by such writings: & shee deserves most where shee is further of. If you shall amongst you advise mee to write to hir, I shall forthwith; our towne lookes upon mee contracted & so I have sayd myselfe; what wonder the charge [change?] would make, I know not." Again: "Still pardon my offensive boldnes: I know not well whither Mrs Sh. have set mee at liberty or not: my conclusion is, that if you find I cannot make an honorable retreat, then I shall desire to advance [Greek: sun Theo]. Of you I now expect your last advise, viz: whither I must goe on or of, _saluo evangelij honore_: if shee bee in good earnest to leave all agitations this way, then I stand still & wayt God's mind concerning mee.... If I had much mony I would part with it to her free, till wee heare what England doth, supposing I may bee called to some imployment that will not suit a marryed estate": (here another mode of escape presents itself, and he goes on:) "for indeed (Sir) some must looke out & I have very strong thoughts to speake with the Duitch Governor & lay some way there for a supply &c." At the end of the letter, an objection to the lady herself occurs to him: "Once more for Mrs Sh: I had from Mr Hibbins & others, her fellowpassengers, sad discouragements where they saw her in her trim. I would not come of with dishonor, nor come on with griefe, or ominous hesitations." On all this shilly-shally we have a shrewd comment in a letter of Endicott: "I cannot but acquaint you with my thoughts concerning Mr Peter since hee receaued a letter from Mrs Sheffield, which was yesterday in the eveninge after the Fast, shee seeming in her letter to abate of her affeccions towards him & dislikinge to come to Salem vppon such termes as he had written. I finde now that hee begins to play her parte, & if I mistake not, you will see him as greatly in loue with her (if shee will but hold of a little) as euer shee was with him; but he conceales it what he can as yett. The begininge of the next weeke you will heare further from him." The widow was evidently more than a match for poor Peter. It should appear that a part of his trouble arose from his having coquetted also with a certain Mrs. Ruth, about whom he was "dealt with by Mrs Amee, Mr Phillips & 2 more of the Church, our Elder being one. When Mr Phillips with much violence & sharpnes charged mee home ... that I should hinder the mayd of a match at London, which was not so, could not thinke of any kindnes I euer did her, though shee haue had above 300_li._ through my fingers, so as if God uphold me not after an especiall manner, it will sinke me surely ... hee told me he would not stop my intended marriage, but assured mee it would not bee good ... all which makes mee reflect upon my rash proceedings with Mrs Sh." Panurge's doubts and difficulties about matrimony were not more entertainingly contradictory. Of course, Peter ends by marrying the widow, and presently we have a comment on "her trim." In January, 1639, he writes to Winthrop: "My wife is very thankfull for her apples, & _desires much the new fashioned shooes_." Eight years later we find him writing from England, where he had been two years: "I am coming over if I must; my wife comes of necessity to New England, having run her selfe out of breath here"; and then in the postscript, "bee sure you never let my wife come away from thence without my leave, & then you love mee." But life is never pure comedy, and the end in this case is tragical. Roger Williams, after his return from England in 1654, writes to John Winthrop, Jr.: "Your brother flourisheth in good esteeme & is eminent for maintaining the Freedome of the Conscience as to matters of Beliefe, Religion, & Worship. Your Father Peters preacheth the same Doctrine though not so zealously as some years since, yet cries out against New English Rigidities & Persecutions, their civil injuries & wrongs to himselfe, & their unchristian dealing with him in excommunicating his distracted wife. All this he tould me in his lodgings at Whitehall, those lodgings which I was tould were Canterburies [the Archbishop], but he himselfe tould me that that Library wherein we were together was Canterburies & given him by the Parliament. His wife lives from him, not wholy but much distracted. He tells me he had but 200 a yeare & he allowed her 4 score per annum of it. Surely, Sir, the most holy Lord is most wise in all the trialls he exerciseth his people with. He tould me that his affliction from his wife stird him up to Action abroad, & when successe tempted him to Pride, the Bitternes in his bozome-comforts was a Cooler & a Bridle to him." Truly the whirligig of time brings about strange revenges. Peter had been driven from England by the persecutions of Laud; a few years later he "stood armed on the scaffold" when that prelate was beheaded, and now we find him installed in the archiepiscopal lodgings. Dr. Palfrey, it appears to me, gives altogether too favorable an opinion both of Peter's character and abilities. I conceive him to have been a vain and selfish man. He may have had the bravery of passionate impulse, but he wanted that steady courage of character which has such a beautiful constancy in Winthrop. He always professed a longing to come back to New England, but it was only a way he had of talking. That he never meant to come is plain from these letters. Nay, when things looked prosperous in England, he writes to the younger Winthrop: "My counsell is you should come hither with your family for certaynly you will bee capable of a comfortable living in this free Commonwealth. I doo seriously advise it.... G. Downing is worth 500_l_. per annum but 4_l_. per diem--your brother Stephen worth 2000_l_. & a maior. I pray come." But when he is snugly ensconced in Whitehall, and may be presumed to have some influence with the prevailing powers, his zeal cools. "I wish you & all friends to stay there & rather looke to the West Indyes if they remoue, for many are here to seeke when they come ouer." To me Peter's highest promotion seems to have been that he walked with John Milton at the Protector's funeral. He was, I suspect, one of those men, to borrow a charitable phrase of Roger Williams, who "feared God in the main," that is, whenever it was not personally inconvenient. William Coddington saw him in his glory in 1651: "Soe wee toucke the tyme to goe to viset Mr Petters at his chamber. I was mery with him & called him the Arch Bp: of Canterberye, in regard to his adtendance by ministers & gentlemen, & it passed very well." Considering certain charges brought against Peter, (though he is said, when under sentence of death, to have denied the truth of them,) Coddington's statement that he liked to have "gentlewomen waite of him" in his lodgings has not a pleasant look. One last report of him we get (September, 1659) in a letter of John Davenport,--"that Mr Hugh Peters is distracted & under sore horrors of conscience, crying out of himselfe as damned & confessing haynous actings." Occasionally these letters give us interesting glimpses of persons and things in England. In the letter of Williams just cited, there is a lesson for all parties raised to power by exceptional causes. "Surely, Sir, youre Father & all the people of God in England ... are now in the sadle & at the helme, so high that _non datus descensus nisi cadendo_: Some cheere up their spirits with the impossibilitie of another fall or turne, so doth Major G. Harrison ... a very gallant most deserving heavenly man, but most highflowne for the Kingdom of the Saints & the 5th Monarchie now risen & their sun never to set againe &c. Others, as, to my knowledge, the Protector ... are not so full of that faith of miracles, but still imagine changes & persecutions & the very slaughter of the witnesses before that glorious morning so much desired of a worldly Kingdome, if ever such a Kingdome (as literally it is by so many expounded) be to arise in this present world & dispensation." Poor General Harrison lived to be one of the witnesses so slaughtered. The practical good sense of Cromwell is worth noting, the English understanding struggling against Judaic trammels. Williams gives us another peep through the keyhole of the past: "It pleased the Lord to call me for some time & with some persons to practice the Hebrew, the Greeke, Latine, French & Dutch. The secretarie of the Councell (Mr Milton) for my Dutch I read him, read me many more languages. Grammar rules begin to be esteemed a Tyrannie. I taught 2 young Gentlemen, a Parliament man's sons, as we teach our children English, by words, phrazes, & constant talke, &c." It is plain that Milton had talked over with Williams the theory put forth in his tract on Education, and made a convert of him. We could wish that the good Baptist had gone a little more into particulars. But which of us knows among the men he meets whom time will dignify by curtailing him of the "Mr.," and reducing him to a bare patronymic, as being a kind by himself? We have a glance or two at Oliver, who is always interesting. "The late renowned Oliver confest to me in close discourse about the Protestants aifaires &c that he yet feard great persecutions to the protestants from the Romanists before the downfall of the Papacie," writes Williams in 1660. This "close discourse" must have been six years before, when Williams was in England. Within a year after, Oliver interfered to some purpose in behalf of the Protestants of Piedmont, and Mr. Milton wrote his famous sonnet. Of the war with Spain, Williams reports from his letters out of England in 1656: "This diversion against the Spaniard hath turnd the face & thoughts of many English, so that the saying now is, Crowne the Protector with gould,[138] though the sullen yet cry, Crowne him with thornes." Again in 1654: "I know the Protector had strong thoughts of Hispaniola & Cuba. Mr Cotton's interpreting of Euphrates to be the West Indies, the supply of gold (to take off taxes), & the provision of a warmer _diverticulum & receptaculum_ then N. England is, will make a footing into those parts very precious, & if it shall please God to vouchsafe successe to this fleete, I looke to hear of an invitation at least to these parts for removall from his Highnes who lookes on N. E. only with an eye of pitie, as poore, cold & useless." The mixture of Euphrates and taxes, of the transcendental and practical, prophecy taking precedence of thrift, is characteristic, and recalls Cromwell's famous rule, of fearing God _and_ keeping your powder dry. In one of the Protector's speeches,[139] he insists much on his wish to retire to a private life. There is a curious confirmation of his sincerity in a letter of William Hooke, then belonging to his household, dated the 13th of April, 1657. The question of the kingly title was then under debate, and Hooke's account of the matter helps to a clearer understanding of the reasons for Cromwell's refusing the title: "The protector is urged _utrinque_ & (I am ready to think) willing enough to betake himself to a private life, if it might be. He is a godly man, much in prayer & good discourses, delighting in good men & good ministers, self-denying & ready to promote any good work for Christ."[140] On the 5th of February, 1654, Captain John Mason, of Pequot memory, writes "a word or twoe of newes as it comes from Mr Eaton, viz: that the Parliament sate in September last; they chose their old Speaker & Clarke. The Protectour told them they were a free Parliament, & soe left them that day. They, considering where the legislative power resided, concluded to vote it on the morrow, & to take charge of the militia. The Protectour hereing of it, sent for some numbers of horse, went to the Parliament House, nayld up the doores, sent for them to the Painted Chamber, told them they should attend the lawes established, & that he would wallow in his blood before he would part with what was conferd upon him, tendering them an oath: 140 engaged." Now it is curious that Mr. Eaton himself, from whom Mason got his news, wrote, only two days before, an account, differing, in some particulars, and especially in tone, from Mason's. Of the speech he says, that it "gave such satisfaction that about 200 have since ingaged to owne the present Government." Yet Carlyle gives the same number of signers (140) as Mason, and there is a sentence in Cromwell's speech, as reported by Carlyle, of precisely the same purport as that quoted by Mason. To me, that "wallow in my blood" has rather more of the Cromwellian ring in it, more of the quality of spontaneous speech, than the "rolled into my grave and buried with infamy" of the official reporter. John Haynes (24th July, 1653) reports "newes from England of astonishing nature," concerning the dissolution of the Rump. We quote his story both as a contemporaneous version of the event, and as containing some particulars that explain the causes that led to it. It differs, in some respects, from Carlyle, and is hardly less vivid as a picture: "The Parliament of England & Councell of State are both dissolved, by whom & the manner this: The Lord Cromwell, Generall, went to the house & asked the Speaker & Bradshaw by what power they sate ther. They answered by the same power that he woare his sword. Hee replied they should know they did not, & said they should sitt noe longer, demanding an account of the vast sommes of money they had received of the Commons. They said the matter was of great consequence & they would give him accompt in tenn dayes. He said, Noe, they had sate too long already (& might now take their ease,) for ther inriching themselves & impoverishing the Commons, & then seazed uppon all the Records. Immediatly Lambert, Livetenant Generall, & Hareson Maior Generall (for they two were with him), tooke the Speaker Lenthall by the hands, lift him out of the Chaire, & ledd him out of the house, & commanded the rest to depart, which fortwith was obeied, & the Generall tooke the keyes & locked the doore." He then goes on to give the reasons assigned by different persons for the act. Some said that the General "scented their purpose" to declare themselves perpetual, and to get rid of him by ordering him to Scotland. "Others say this, that the cries of the oppressed proveiled much with him.... & hastned the declaracion of that ould principle, _Salus populi suprema lex_ &c." The General, in the heat of his wrath, himself snatching the keys and locking the door, has a look of being drawn from the life. Cromwell, in a letter to General Fortescue (November,1655), speaks sharply of the disorders and debauchedness, profaneness and wickedness, commonly practised amongst the army sent out to the West Indies. Major Mason gives us a specimen: "It is here reported that some of the soldiers belonging to the ffleet at Boston ffell upon the watch: after some bickering they comanded them to goe before the Governour; they retorned that they were Cromwell's boyes." Have we not, in these days, heard of "Sherman's boys"? Belonging properly to the "Winthrop Papers," but printed in an earlier volume (Third Series, Vol. I. pp. 185-198), is a letter of John Maidstone, which contains the best summary of the Civil War that I ever read. Indeed, it gives a clearer insight into its causes, and a better view of the vicissitudes of the Commonwealth and Protectorate, than any one of the more elaborate histories. There is a singular equity and absence of party passion in it which gives us faith in the author's judgment. He was Oliver's Steward of the Household, and his portrait of him, as that of an eminently fair-minded man who knew him well, is of great value. Carlyle has not copied it, and, as many of my readers may never have seen it, I reproduce it here: "Before I pass further, pardon me in troubling you with the character of his person, which, by reason of my nearness to him, I had opportunity well to observe. His body was well compact and strong; his stature under six feet, (I believe about two inches;) his head so shaped as you might see it a store-house and shop both, of a vast treasury of natural parts. His temper exceeding fiery, as I have known, but the flame of it kept down for the most part or soon allayed with those moral endowments he had. He was naturally compassionate towards objects in distress, even to an effeminate measure; though God had made him a heart wherein was left little room for any fear but what was due to himself, of which there was a large proportion, yet did he exceed in tenderness toward sufferers. A larger soul, I think, hath seldom dwelt in a house of clay than his was. I do believe, if his story were impartially transmitted, and the unprejudiced world well possessed with it, she would add him to her nine worthies and make that number a _decemviri_. He lived and died in comfortable communion with God, as judicious persons near him well observed. He was that Mordecai that sought the welfare of his people and spake peace to his seed. Yet were his temptations such, as it appeared frequently that he that hath grace enough for many men may have too little for himself, the treasure he had being but in an earthen vessel and that equally defiled with original sin as any other man's nature is." There are phrases here that may be matched with the choicest in the life of Agricola; and, indeed, the whole letter, superior to Tacitus in judicial fairness of tone, goes abreast of his best writing in condensation, nay, surpasses it in this, that, while in Tacitus the intensity is of temper, here it is the clear residuum left by the ferment and settling of thought. Just before, speaking of the dissolution of Oliver's last Parliament, Maidstone says: "That was the last which sat during his life, he being compelled to wrestle with the difficulties of his place so well as he could without parliamentary assistance, and in it met with so great a burthen as (I doubt not to say) it drank up his spirits, of which his natural constitution yielded a vast stock, and brought him to his grave, his interment being the seed-time of his glory and England's calamity." Hooke, in a letter of April 16, 1658, has a passage worth quoting: "The dissolucion of the last Parliament puts the supreme powers upon difficulties, though the trueth is the Nacion is so ill spirited that little good is to be expected from these Generall Assemblies. They [the supreme powers, to wit, Cromwell] have been much in Counsell since this disappointment, & God hath been sought by them in the effectuall sense of the need of help from heaven & of the extreme danger impendent on a miscarriage of their advises. But our expences are so vast that I know not how they can avoyde a recurrence to another Session & to make a further tryall.... The land is full of discontents, & the Cavaleerish party doth still expect a day & nourish hopes of a Revolucion. The Quakers do still proceed & are not yet come to their period. The Presbyterians do abound, I thinke, more than ever, & are very bold & confident because some of their masterpieces lye unanswered, particularly theire _Jus Divinum Regiminis Ecclesiastici_ which I have sent to Mr. Davenporte. It hath been extant without answer these many years [only four, brother Hooke, if we may trust the title-page]. The Anabaptists abound likewise, & Mr Tombes hath pretended to have answered all the bookes extant against his opinion. I saw him presenting it to the Protectour of late. The Episcopall men ply the Common-Prayer booke with much more boldness then ever since these turnes of things, even in the open face of the City in severall places. I have spoken of it to the Protectour but as yet nothing is done in order to their being suppressed." It should teach us to distrust the apparent size of objects, which is a mere cheat of their nearness to us, that we are so often reminded of how small account things seem to one generation for which another was ready to die. A copy of the _Jus Divinum_ held too close to the eyes could shut out the universe with its infinite chances and changes, its splendid indifference to our ephemeral fates. Cromwell, we should gather, had found out the secret of this historical perspective, to distinguish between the blaze of a burning tar-barrel and the final conflagration of all things. He had learned tolerance by the possession of power,--a proof of his capacity for rule. In 1652 Haynes writes: "Ther was a Catechise lately in print ther, that denied the divinity of Christ, yett ther was motions in the house by some, to have it lycenced by authority. Cromwell mainly oposed, & at last it was voted to bee burnt which causes much discontent of somme." Six years had made Cromwell wiser. One more extract from a letter of Hooke's (30th March, 1659) is worth giving. After speaking of Oliver's death, he goes on to say: "Many prayers were put up solemnly for his life, & some, of great & good note, were too confident that he would not die.... I suppose himselfe had thoughts that he should have outlived this sickness till near his dissolution, perhaps a day or two before; which I collect partly by some words which he was said to speak ... & partly from his delaying, almost to the last, to nominate his successor, to the wonderment of many who began sooner to despair of his life.... His eldest son succeedeth him, being chosen by the Council, the day following his father's death, whereof he had no expectation. I have heard him say he had thought to have lived as a country gentleman, & that his father had not employed him in such a way as to prepare him for such employment; which, he thought, he did designedly. I suppose his meaning was lest it should have been apprehended ha had prepared & appointed him for such a place, the burthen whereof I have several times heard him complaining under since his coming to the Government, the weighty occasions whereof with continuall oppressing cares had drunk up his father's spirits, in whose body very little blood was found when he was opened: the greatest defect visible was in his heart, which was flaccid & shrunk together. Yet he was one that could bear much without complaining, as one of a strong constitution of brain (as appeared when he was dissected) & likewise of body. His son seemeth to be of another frame, soft & tender, & penetrable with easier cares by much, yet he is of a sweete countenance, vivacious & candid, as is the whole frame of his spirit, only naturally inclined to choler. His reception of multitudes of addresses from towns, cities, & counties doth declare, among several other indiciums, more of ability in him than could, ordinarily, have been expected from him. He spake also with general acceptation & applause when he made his speech before the Parliament, even far beyond the Lord Fynes....[141] If this Assembly miss it, we are like to be in an ill condition. The old ways & customs of England, as to worshipe, are in the hearts of the most, who long to see the days again which once they saw.... The hearts of very many are for the house of the Stewarts, & there is a speech as if they would attempt to call the late King's judges into question.... The city, I hear is full of Cavaliers." Poor Richard appears to have inherited little of his father but the inclination to choler. That he could speak far beyond the Lord Fynes seems to have been not much to the purpose. Rhetoric was not precisely the medicine for such a case as he had to deal with. Such were the glimpses which the New England had of the Old. Ishmael must ere-long learn to shift for himself. The temperance question agitated the fathers very much as it still does the children. We have never seen the anti-prohibition argument stated more cogently than in a letter of Thomas Shepard, minister of Cambridge, to Winthrop, in 1639: "This also I doe humbly intreat, that there may be no sin made of _drinking in any case one to another_, for I am confident he that stands here will fall & be beat from his grounds by his own arguments; as also that the consequences will be very sad, and the thing provoking to God & man to make more sins than (as yet is seene) God himself hath made." A principle as wise now as it was then. Our ancestors were also harassed as much as we by the difficulties of domestic service. In a country where land might be had for the asking, it was not easy to keep hold of servants brought over from England. Emanuel Downing, always the hard, practical man, would find a remedy in negro slavery. "A warr with the Narraganset," he writes to Winthrop in 1645, "is verie considerable to this plantation, ffor I doubt whither it be not synne in us, having power in our hands, to suffer them to maynteyne the worship of the devill which their pawwawes often doe; 2lie, If upon a just warre the Lord should deliver them into our hands, wee might easily have men, woemen, & children enough to exchange for Moores, which wilbe more gaynefull pilladge for us than wee conceive, for I doe not see how wee can thrive untill wee gett into a stock of slaves sufficient to doe all our buisenes, for our childrens children will hardly see this great Continent filled with people, soe that our servants will still desire freedome to plant for them selves, & not stay but for verie great wages. And I suppose you know verie well how wee shall maynteyne 20 Moores cheaper than one Englishe servant." The doubt whether it be not sin in us longer to tolerate their devil-worship, considering how much need we have of them as merchandise, is delicious. The way in which Hugh Peter grades the sharp descent from the apostolic to the practical with an _et cetera_, in the following extract, has the same charm: "Sir, Mr Endecot & myself salute you in the Lord Jesus &c. Wee have heard of a dividence of women & children in the bay & would bee glad of a share viz: a young woman or girle & a boy if you thinke good." Peter seems to have got what he asked for, and to have been worse off than before; for we find him writing two years later: "My wife desires my daughter to send to Hanna that was her mayd, now at Charltowne, to know if shee would dwell with us, for truly wee are so destitute (having now but an Indian) that wee know not what to doe." Let any housewife of our day, who does not find the Keltic element in domestic life so refreshing as to Mr. Arnold in literature, imagine a household with one wild Pequot woman, communicated with by signs, for its maid of all work, and take courage. Those were serious times indeed, when your cook might give warning by taking your scalp, or _chignon_, as the case might be, and making off with it into the woods. The fewness and dearness of servants made it necessary to call in temporary assistance for extraordinary occasions, and hence arose the common use of the word _help_. As the great majority kept no servants at all, and yet were liable to need them for work to which the family did not suffice, as, for instance, in harvest, the use of the word was naturally extended to all kinds of service. That it did not have its origin in any false shame at the condition itself, induced by democratic habits, is plain from the fact that it came into use while the word _servant_ had a much wider application than now, and certainly implied no social stigma. Downing and Hooke, each at different times, one of them so late as 1667, wished to place a son as "servant" with one of the Winthrops. Roger Williams writes of his daughter, that "she desires to spend some time in service & liked much Mrs Brenton, who wanted." This was, no doubt, in order to be well drilled in housekeeping, an example which might be followed still to advantage. John Tinker, himself the "servant" or steward of the second Winthrop, makes use of _help_ in both the senses we have mentioned, and shows the transition of the word from its restricted to its more general application. "We have fallen a pretty deal of timber & drawn some by Goodman Rogers's team, but unless your worship have a good team of your own & a man to go with them, I shall be much distracted for _help_ ... & when our business is most in haste we shall be most to seek." Again, writing at harvest, as appears both by the date and by an elaborate pun,--"I received the _sithes_ you sent but in that there came not also yourself, it maketh me to _sigth_,"--he says: "_Help_ is scarce and hard to get, difficult to please, uncertain, &c. Means runneth out & wages on & I cannot make choice of my _help_." It may be some consolation to know that the complaint of a decline in the quality of servants is no modern thing. Shakespeare makes Orlando say to Adam: "O, good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not of the fashion of these times, When none will sweat but for promotion." When the faithful old servant is brought upon the stage, we may be sure he was getting rare. A century later, we have explicit testimony that things were as bad in this respect as they are now. Don Manuel Gonzales, who travelled in England in 1730, says of London servants: "As to common menial servants, they have great wages, are well kept and cloathed, but are notwithstanding the plague of almost every house in town. They form themselves into societies or rather confederacies, contributing to the maintenance of each other when out of place, and if any of them cannot manage the family where they are entertained, as they please, immediately they give notice they will be gone. There is no speaking to them, they are above correction, and if a master should attempt it, he may expect to be handsomely drubbed by the creature he feeds and harbors, or perhaps an action brought against him for it. It is become a common saying, _If my servant ben't a thief, if he be but honest, I can bear with other things._ And indeed it is very rare in London to meet with an honest servant."[142] Southey writes to his daughter Edith, in 1824, "All the maids eloped because I had turned a man out of the kitchen at eleven o'clock on the preceding night." Nay, Hugh Rhodes, in his _Boke of Nurture_(1577), speaks of servants "ofte fleeting," i.e. leaving one master for another. One of the most curious things revealed to us in these volumes is the fact that John Winthrop, Jr., was seeking the philosopher's stone, that universal elixir which could transmute all things to its own substance. This is plain from the correspondence of Edward Howes. Howes goes to a certain doctor, professedly to consult him about the method of making a cement for earthen vessels, no doubt crucibles. His account of him is amusing, and reminds one of Ben Jonson's Subtle. This was one of the many quacks who gulled men during that twilight through which alchemy was passing into chemistry. "This Dr, for a Dr he is, brags that if he have but the hint or notice of any useful thing not yet invented, he will undertake to find it out, except some few which he hath vowed not to meddle with as _vitrum maliabile, perpet. motus, via proxima ad Indos & lapis philosi_: all, or anything else he will undertake, but for his private gain, to make a monopoly thereof & to sell the use or knowledge thereof at too high rates." This breed of pedlers in science is not yet extinct. The exceptions made by the Doctor show a becoming modesty. Again: "I have been 2 or 3 times with the Dr & can get but small satisfaction about your queries.... Yet I must confess he seemed very free to me, only in the main he was mystical. This he said, that when the will of God is you shall know what you desire, it will come with such a light that it will make a harmony among all your authors, causing them sweetly to agree, & put you forever out of doubt & question." In another letter: "I cannot discover into _terram incognitam_, but I have had a ken of it showed unto me. The way to it is, for the most part, horrible & fearful, the dangers none worse, to them that are _destinati filii_: sometimes I am travelling that way.... I think I have spoken with some that have been there." Howes writes very cautiously: "Dear friend, I desire with all my heart that I might write plainer to you, but in discovering the mystery, I may diminish its majesty & give occasion to the profane to abuse it, if it should fall into unworthy hands." By and by he begins to think his first doctor a humbug, but he finds a better. Howes was evidently a man of imaginative temper, fit to be captivated by the alchemistic theory of the unity of composition in nature, which was so attractive to Goethe. Perhaps the great poet was himself led to it by his Rosicrucian studies when writing the first part of Faust. Howes tells his friend that "there is all good to be found in unity, & all evil in duality & multiplicity. _Phoenix illa admiranda sola semper existit_, therefore while a man & she is two, he shall never see her,"--a truth of very wide application, and too often lost sight of or never seen at all. "The Arabian Philos. I writ to you of, he was styled among us Dr Lyon, the best of all the Rosicrucians[143] that ever I met withal, far beyond Dr Ewer: they that are of his strain are knowing men; they pretend [i.e. claim] to live in free light, they honor God & do good to the people among whom they live, & I conceive you are in the right that they had their learning from Arabia." Howes is a very interesting person, a mystic of the purest kind, and that while learning to be an attorney with Emanuel Downing. How little that perfunctory person dreamed of what was going on under his nose,--as little as of the spiritual wonders that lay beyond the tip of it! Howes was a Swedenborgian before Swedenborg. Take this, for example: "But to our sympathetical business whereby we may communicate our minds one to another though the diameter of the earth interpose. _Diana non est centrum omnium_. I would have you so good a geometrician as to know your own centre. Did you ever yet measure your everlasting self, the length of your life, the breadth of your love, the depth of your wisdom & the height of your light? Let Truth be your centre, & you may do it, otherways not. I could wish you would now begin to leave off being altogether an outward man; this is but _casa Regentis_; the Ruler can draw you straight lines from your centre to the confines of an infinite circumference, by which you may pass from any part of the circumference to another without obstacle of earth or secation of lines, if you observe & keep but one & the true & only centre, to pass by it, from it, & to it. Methinks I now see you _intus et extra_ & talk to you, but you mind me not because you are from home, you are not within, you look as if you were careless of yourself; your hand & your voice differ; 'tis my friend's hand, I know it well; but the voice is your enemy's. O, my friend, if you love me, get you home, get you in! You have a friend as well as an enemy. Know them by their voices. The one is still driving or enticing you out; the other would have you stay within. Be within and keep within, & all that are within & keep within shall you see know & communicate with to the full, & shall not need to strain your outward senses to see & hear that which is like themselves uncertain & too-too often false, but, abiding forever within, in the centre of Truth, from thence you may behold & understand the innumerable divers emanations within the circumference, & still within; for without are falsities, lies, untruths, dogs &c." Howes was tolerant also, not from want of faith, but from depth of it. "The relation of your fight with the Indians I have read in print, but of the fight among yourselves, _bellum linguarum_ the strife of tongues, I have heard much, but little to the purpose. I wonder your people, that pretend to know so much, doe not know that love is the fulfilling of the law, & that against love there is no law." Howes forgot that what might cause only a ripple in London might overwhelm the tiny Colony in Boston. Two years later, he writes more philosophically, and perhaps with a gentle irony, concerning "two monstrous births & a general earthquake." He hints that the people of the Bay might perhaps as well take these signs to themselves as lay them at the door of Mrs. Hutchinson and what not. "Where is there such another people then [as] in New England, that labors might & main to have Christ formed in them, yet would give or appoint him his shape & clothe him too? It cannot be denied that we have conceived many monstrous imaginations of Christ Jesus: the one imagination says, _Lo, here he is_; the other says, _Lo, there he is_; multiplicity of conceptions, but is there any one true shape of Him? And if one of many produce a shape, it is not the shape of the Son of God, but an ugly horrid metamorphosis. Neither is it a living shape, but a dead one, yet a crow thinks her own bird the fairest, & most prefer their own wisdom before God's, Antichrist before Christ." Howes had certainly arrived at that "centre" of which he speaks and was before his time, as a man of speculation, never a man of action, may sometimes be. He was fitter for Plotinus's colony than Winthrop's. He never came to New England, yet there was always a leaven of his style of thinkers here. Howes was the true adept, seeking what spiritual ore there might be among the dross of the hermetic philosophy. What he says sincerely and inwardly was the cant of those outward professors of the doctrine who were content to dwell in the material part of it forever. In Jonathan Brewster, we have a specimen of these Wagners. Is it not curious, that there should have been a _balneum Mariae_ at New London two hundred years ago? that _la recherche de l'Absolu_ should have been going on there in a log-hut, under constant fear that the Indians would put out, not merely the flame of one little life, but, far worse, the fire of our furnace, and so rob the world of this divine secret, just on the point of revealing itself? Alas! poor Brewster's secret was one that many have striven after before and since, who did not call themselves alchemists,--the secret of getting gold without earning it,--a chase that brings some men to a four-in-hand on Shoddy Avenue, and some to the penitentiary, in both cases advertising its utter vanity. Brewster is a capital specimen of his class, who are better than the average, because they _do_ mix a little imagination with their sordidness, and who have also their representatives among us, in those who expect the Jennings and other ideal estates in England. If Hawthorne had but known of him! And yet how perfectly did his genius divine that ideal element in our early New England life, conceiving what must have been without asking proof of what actually was! An extract or two will sufficiently exhibit Brewster in his lunes. Sending back some alchemistic book to Winthrop, he tells him that if his name be kept secret, "I will write as clear a light, as far as I dare to, in finding the first ingredience.... The first figure in Flamonell doth plainly resemble the first ingredience, what it is, & from whence it comes, & how gotten, as there you may plainly see set forth by 2 resemblances held in a man's hand; for the confections there named is a delusion, for they are but the operations of the work after some time set, as the scum of the Red Sea, which is the Virgin's Milk upon the top of the vessel, white. Red Sea is the sun & moon calcinated & brought & reduced into water mineral which in some time, & most of the whole time, is red. 2ndly, the fat of mercurial wind, that is the fat or quintessence of sun & moon, earth & water, drawn out from them both, & flies aloft & bore up by the operation of our mercury, that is our fire which is our air or wind." This is as satisfactory as Lepidus's account of the generation of the crocodile: "Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your sun: so is your crocodile." After describing the three kinds of fire, that of the lamp, that of ashes, and that against nature, which last "is the fire of fire, that is the secret fire drawn up, being the quintessence of the sun & moon, with the other mercurial water joined with & together, which is fire elemental," he tells us that "these fires are & doth contain the whole mystery of the work." The reader, perhaps, thinks that he has nothing to do but forthwith to turn all the lead he can lay his hands on into gold. But no: "If you had the first ingredience & the proportion of each, yet all were nothing if you had not the certain times & seasons of the planets & signs, when to give more or less of this fire, namely a hot & dry, a cold & moist fire which you must use in the mercurial water before it comes to black & after into white & then red, which is only done by these fires, which when you practise you will easily see & perceive, that you shall stand amazed, & admire at the great & admirable wisdom of God, that can produce such a wonderful, efficacious, powerful thing as this is to convert all metallic bodies to its own nature, which may be well called a first essence. I say by such weak simple means of so little value & so little & easy labor & skill, that I may say with Artephus, 200 page, it is of a worke so easy & short, fitter for women & young children than sage & grave men.... I thank the Lord, I understand the matter perfectly in the said book, yet I could desire to have it again 12 months hence, for about that time I shall have occasion to peruse, whenas I come to the second working which is most difficult, which will be some three or [4] months before the perfect white, & afterwards, as Artephus saith, I may burn my books, for he saith it is one regiment as well for the red as for the white. The Lord in mercy give me life to see the end of it!"--an exclamation I more than once made in the course of some of Brewster's periods. Again, under pledge of profound secrecy, he sends Winthrop a manuscript, which he may communicate to the owner of the volume formerly lent, because "it gave me such light in the second work as I should not readily have found out by study, also & especially how to work the elixir fit for medicine & healing all maladies which is clean another way of working than we held formerly. Also a light given how to dissolve any hard substance into the elixir, which is also another work. And many other things which in Ribley [Ripley?] I could not find out. More works of the same I would gladly see ... for, Sir, so it is that any book of this subject, I can understand it, though never so darkly written, having both knowledge & experience of the world,[144] that now easily I may understand their envious carriages to hide it.... You may marvel why I should give any light to others in this thing before I have perfected my own. This know, that my work being true thus far by all their writings, it cannot fail ... for if &c &c you cannot miss if you would, except you break your glass." He confesses he is mistaken as to the time required, which he now, as well as I can make out, reckons at about ten years. "I fear I shall not live to see it finished, in regard partly of the Indians, who, I fear, will raise wars, as also I have a conceit that God sees me not worthy of such a blessing, by reason of my manifold miscarriages." Therefore he "will shortly write all the whole work in few words plainly which may be done in 20 lines from the first to the last & seal it up in a little box & subscribe it to yourself ... & will so write it that neither wife nor children shall know thereof." If Winthrop should succeed in bringing the work to perfection, Brewster begs him to remember his wife and children. "I mean if this my work should miscarry by wars of the Indians, for I may not remove it till it be perfected, otherwise I should so unsettle the body by removing sun & moon out of their settled places, that there would then be no other afterworking." Once more he inculcates secrecy, and for a most comical reason: "For it is such a secret as is not fit for every one either for secrecy or for parts to use it, as God's secret for his glory, to do good there with, or else they may do a great deal of hurt, spending & employing it to satisfy sinful lusts. Therefore, I intreat you, sir, spare to use my name, & let my letters I send either be safely kept or burned that I write about it, for indeed, sir, I am more than before sensible of the evil effects that will arise by the publishing of it. I should never be at quiet, neither at home nor abroad, for one or other that would be enquiring & seeking after knowledge thereof, that I should be tired out & forced to leave the place: nay, it would be blazed abroad into Europe." How much more comic is nature than any comedy! _Mutato nomine de te_. Take heart, ambitious youth, the sun and moon will be no more disconcerted by any effort of yours than by the pots and pans of Jonathan Brewster. It is a curious proof of the duality so common (yet so often overlooked) in human character, that Brewster was all this while manager of the Plymouth trading-post, near what is now New London. The only professors of the transmutation of metals who still impose on mankind are to be found in what is styled the critical department of literature. Their _materia prima_, or universal solvent, serves equally for the lead of Tupper or the brass of Swinburne. In a letter of Sir Kenelm Digby to J. Winthrop, Jr., we find some odd prescriptions. "For all sorts of agues, I have of late tried the following magnetical experiment with infallible success. Pare the patient's nails when the fit is coming on, & put the parings into a little bag of fine linen or sarsenet, & tie that about a live eel's neck in a tub of water. The eel will die & the patient will recover. And if a dog or hog eat that eel, they will also die." "The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died!" "I have known one that cured all deliriums & frenzies whatsoever, & at once taking, with an elixir made of dew, nothing but dew purified & nipped up in a glass & digested 15 months till all of it was become a gray powder, not one drop of humidity remaining. This I know to be true, & that first it was as black as ink, then green then gray, & at 22 months' end it was as white & lustrous as any oriental pearl. But it cured manias at 15 months' end." Poor Brewster would have been the better for a dose of it, as well as some in our day, who expect to cure men of being men by act of Congress. In the same letter Digby boasts of having made known the properties of _quinquina_, and also of the sympathetic powder, with which latter he wrought a "famous cure" of pleasant James Howell, author of the "Letters." I do not recollect that Howell anywhere alludes to it. In the same letter, Digby speaks of the books he had sent to Harvard College, and promises to send more. In all Paris he cannot find a copy of Blaise Viginere _Des Chiffres_. "I had it in my library in England, but at the plundering of my house I lost it with many other good books. I have _laid out_ in all places for it." The words we have underscored would be called a Yankeeism now. The house was Gatehurst, a fine Elizabethan dwelling, still, or lately, standing. Digby made his peace with Cromwell, and professes his readiness to spend his blood for him. He kept well with both sides, and we are not surprised to find Hooke saying that he hears no good of him from any. The early colonists found it needful to bring over a few trained soldiers, both as drillmasters and engineers. Underhill, Patrick, and Gardner had served in the Low Countries, probably also Mason. As Paris has been said to be not precisely the place for a deacon, so the camp of the Prince of Orange could hardly have been the best training-school for Puritans in practice, however it may have been for masters of casuistic theology. The position of these rough warriors among a people like those of the first emigration must have been a droll one. That of Captain Underhill certainly was. In all our early history, there is no figure so comic. Full of the pedantry of his profession and fond of noble phrases, he is a kind of cross between Dugald Dalgetty and Ancient Pistol, with a slight relish of the _miles gloriosus_. Underhill had taken side with Mr. Wheelwright in his heretical opinions, and there is every reason why he should have maintained, with all the ardor of personal interest, the efficiency of a covenant of grace without reference to the works of the subject of it. Coming back from a visit to England in 1638, he "was questioned for some speeches uttered by him in the ship, viz: that they at Boston were zealous as the scribes and pharisees were and as Paul was before his conversion, which he denying, they were proved to his face by a sober woman whom he had seduced in the ship and drawn to his opinion; but she was afterwards better informed in the truth. Among other passages, he told her how he came by his assurance, saying that, having long lain under a spirit of bondage, and continued in a legal way near five years, he could get no assurance, till at length, as he was taking a pipe of the good creature tobacco, the spirit fell home upon his heart, an absolute promise of free grace, with such assurance and joy, as he never doubted since of his good estate, neither should he, whatsoever sin he should fall into,--a good preparative for such motions as he familiarly used to make to some of that sex.... The next day he was called again and banished. The Lord's day after, he made a speech in the assembly, showing that as the Lord was pleased to convert Paul as he was persecuting &c, so he might manifest himself to him as he was making moderate use of the good creature called tobacco." A week later "he was privately dealt with upon suspicion of incontinency ... but his excuse was that the woman was in great trouble of mind, and some temptations, and that he resorted to her to comfort her." He went to the Eastward, and, having run himself out there, thought it best to come back to Boston and reinstate himself by eating his leek. "He came in his worst clothes (being accustomed to take great pride in his bravery and neatness) without a band, in a foul linen cap pulled close to his eyes, and, standing upon a form, he did, with many deep sighs and abundance of tears, lay open his wicked course, his adultery, his hypocrisy &c. He spake well, save that his blubbering &c. interrupted him." We hope he was a sincere penitent, but men of his complexion are apt to be pleased with such a tragi-comedy of self-abasement, if only they can be chief actors and conspicuous enough therein. In the correspondence before us Underhill appears in full turkey-cock proportions. Not having been advanced according to his own opinion of his merits, he writes to Governor Winthrop, with an oblique threat that must have amused him somewhat: "I profess, sir, till I know the cause, I shall not be satisfied, but I hope God will subdue me to his will; yet this I say that such handling of officers in foreign parts hath so far subverted some of them as to cause them turn public rebels against their state & kingdom, which God forbid should ever be found once so much as to appear in my breast." Why, then the world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open! Next we hear him on a point of military discipline at Salem. "It is this: how they have of their own appointment made them a captain, lieutenant & ensign, & after such a manner as was never heard of in any school of war, nor in no kingdom under heaven.... For my part, if there should not be a reformation in this disordered practise, I would not acknowledge such officers. If officers should be of no better esteem than for constables to place them, & martial discipline to proceed disorderly, I would rather lay down my command than to shame so noble a prince from whom we came." Again: "Whereas it is somewhat questionable whether the three months I was absent, as well in the service of the country as of other particular persons, my request therefore is that this honored Court would be pleased to decide this controversy, myself alleging it to be the custom of Nations that, if a Commander be lent to another State, by that State to whom he is a servant, both his place & means is not detained from him, so long as he doth not refuse the call of his own State to which he is a servant, in case they shall call him home." Then bringing up again his "ancient suit" for a grant of land, he throws in a neat touch of piety: "& if the honored Court shall vouchsafe to make some addition, that which hath not been deserved, by the same power of God, may be in due season." In a postscript, he gives a fine philosophical reason for this desired addition which will go to the hearts of many in these days of high prices and wasteful taxation. "The time was when a little went far; then much was not known nor desired; the reason of the difference lieth only in the error of judgment, for nature requires no more to uphold it now than when it was satisfied with less." The valiant Captain interprets the law of nations, as sovereign powers are wont to do, to suit his advantage in the special case. We find a parallel case in a letter of Bryan Rosseter to John Winthrop, Jr., pleading for a remission of taxes. "The lawes of nations exempt allowed phisitians from personall services, & their estates from rates & assessments." In the Declaration of the town of Southampton on Long Island (1673), the dignity of constable is valued at a juster rate than Underhill was inclined to put upon it. The Dutch, it seems, demanded of them "to deliver up to them the badge of Civil & Military power; namely, the Constable's staffe & the Colonel's." Mayor Munroe of New Orleans did not more effectually magnify his office when he surrendered the city to General Butler. Underhill's style is always of the finest. His spelling was under the purest covenant of grace. I must give a single specimen of it from a letter whose high moral tone is all the more diverting that it was written while he was under excommunication for the sin which he afterwards confessed. It is addressed to Winthrop and Dudley. "Honnored in the Lord. Youer silenc one more admirse me. I youse chrischan playnnes. I know you love it. Silenc can not reduce the hart of youer love'g brother: I would the rightchous would smite me, espeschali youer slfe & the honnored Depoti to whom I also dereckt this letter together with youer honnored slfe. Jesos Christ did wayt; & God his Father did dig and telfe bout the barren figtre before he would cast it of: I would to God you would tender my soule so as to youse playnnes with me." (As if anything could be plainer than excommunication and banishment!) "I wrot to you both, but now [no] answer; & here I am dayli abused by malischous tongse: John Baker I here hath rot to the honnored depoti how as I was dronck & like to be cild, & both falc, upon okachon I delt with Wanuerton for intrushon, & findding them resolutli bent to rout out all gud a mong us & advanc there superstischous waye, & by boystrous words indeferd to fritten men to acomplish his end, & he abusing me to my face, dru upon him with intent to corb his insolent and dasterdli sperrite, but now [no] danger of my life, although it might hafe bin just with God to hafe giffen me in the hanse of youer enemise & mine, for they hat the wayse of the Lord & them that profes them, & therfore layes trapes to cachte the pore into there deboyst corses, as ister daye on Pickeren their Chorch Warden caim up to us with intent to mak some of ourse dronc, as is sospeckted, but the Lord soferd him so to misdemen himslfe as he is likli to li by the hielse this too month.... My hombel request is that you will be charitabel of me.... Let justies and merci be goyned.... You may plese to soggest youer will to this barrer, you will find him tracktabel." The concluding phrase seems admirably chosen, when we consider the means of making people "tractable" which the magistrates of the Bay had in their hands, and were not slow to exercise, as Underhill himself had experienced. I cannot deny myself the pleasure of giving one more specimen of the Captain's "grand-delinquent" style, as I once heard such fine writing called by a person who little dreamed what a hit he had made. So far as I have observed, our public defaulters, and others who have nothing to say for themselves, always rise in style as they sink in self-respect. He is speaking of one Scott, who had laid claim to certain lands, and had been called on to show his title. "If he break the comand of the Asembli & bring not in the counterfit portreture of the King imprest in yello waxe, anext to his false perpetuiti of 20 mile square, where by he did chet the Town of Brouckhaven, he is to induer the sentance of the Court of Asisies." Pistol would have been charmed with that splendid amplification of the Great Seal. We have seen nothing like it in our day, except in a speech made to Mr. George Peabody at Danvers, if I recollect, while that gentleman was so elaborately concealing from his left hand what his right had been doing. As examples of Captain Underhill's adroitness in phonetic spelling, I offer _fafarabel_ and _poseschonse_, and reluctantly leave him. Another very entertaining fellow for those who are willing to work through a pretty thick husk of tiresomeness for a genuine kernel of humor underneath is Coddington. The elder Winthrop endured many trials, but I doubt if any were sharper than those which his son had to undergo in the correspondence of this excellently tiresome man. _Tantae molis Romanam condere gentem!_ The dulness of Coddington, always that of no ordinary man, became irritable and aggressive after being stung by the gadfly of Quakerism. Running counter to its proper nature, it made him morbidly uneasy. Already an Anabaptist, his brain does not seem to have been large enough to lodge two maggots at once with any comfort to himself. Fancy John Winthrop, Jr., with all the affairs of the Connecticut Colony on his back, expected to prescribe alike for the spiritual and bodily ailments of all the hypochondriacs in his government, and with Philip's war impending,--fancy him exposed also to perpetual trials like this: "G.F. [George Fox] hath sent thee a book of his by Jere: Bull, & two more now which thou mayest communicate to thy Council & officers. Also I remember before thy last being in England, I sent thee a book written by Francis Howgall against persecution, by Joseph Nicallson which book thou lovingly accepted and communicated to the Commissioners of the United Colonies (as I desired) also J.N. thou entertained with a loving respect which encouraged me" (fatal hospitality!)--"As a token of that ancient love that for this 42 years I have had for thee, I have sent thee three Manuscripts, one of 5 queries, other is of 15, about the love of Jesus &c. The 3d is why we cannot come to the worship which was not set up by Christ Jesus, which I desire thee to communicate to the priests to answer in thy jurisdiction, the Massachusetts, New Plymouth, or elsewhere, & send their answer in writing to me. Also two printed papers to set up in thy house. It's reported in Barbadoes that thy brother Sammuell shall be sent Governour to Antego." What a mere dust of sugar in the last sentence for such a portentous pill! In his next letter he has other writings of G. F., "not yet copied, which if thou desireth, when I hear from thee, I may convey them unto thee. Also sence G. Ffox departure William Edmondson is arrived at this Island, who having given out a paper to all in authority, which, my wife having copied, I have here inclosed presented thee therewith." Books and manuscripts were not all. Coddington was also glad to bestow on Winthrop any wandering tediousness in the flesh that came to hand. "I now understand of John Stubbs freedom to visit thee (with the said Jo: B.) he is a larned man, as witness the battle door[145] on 35 languages,"--a terrible man this, capable of inflicting himself on three dozen different kindreds of men. It will be observed that Coddington, with his "thou desireths," is not quite so well up in the grammar of his thee-and-thouing as my Lord Coke. Indeed, it is rather pleasant to see that in his alarm about "the enemy," in 1673, he backslides into the second person plural. If Winthrop ever looked over his father's correspondence, he would have read in a letter of Henry Jacie the following dreadful example of retribution: "The last news we heard was that the Bores in Bavaria slew about 300 of the Swedish forces & took about 200 prisoners, of which they put out the eyes of some & cut out the tonges of others & so sent them to the King of Sweden, which caused him to lament bytterly for an hour. Then he sent an army & destroyed those Bores, about 200 or 300 of their towns. Thus we hear." Think of that, Master Coddington! Could the sinful heart of man always suppress the wish that a Gustavus might arise to do judgment on the Bores of Rhode Island? The unkindest part of it was that, on Coddington's own statement, Winthrop had never persecuted the Quakers, and had even endeavored to save Robinson and Stevenson in 1659. Speaking of the execution of these two martyrs to the bee in their bonnets, John Davenport gives us a capital example of the way in which Divine "judgments" may be made to work both ways at the pleasure of the interpreter. As the crowd was going home from the hanging, a drawbridge gave way, and some lives were lost. The Quakers, of course, made the most of this lesson to the _pontifices_ in the bearing power of timber, claiming it as a proof of God's wrath against the persecutors. This was rather hard, since none of the magistrates perished, and the popular feeling was strongly in favor of the victims of their severity. But Davenport gallantly captures these Quaker guns, and turns them against the enemy himself. "Sir, the hurt that befell so many, by their own rashness, at the Draw Bridge in Boston, being on the day that the Quakers were executed, was not without God's special providence in judgment & wrath, I fear, against the Quakers & their abettors, who will be much hardened thereby." This is admirable, especially as his parenthesis about "their own rashness" assumes that the whole thing was owing to natural causes. The pity for the Quakers, too, implied in the "I fear," is a nice touch. It is always noticeable how much more liberal those who deal in God's command without his power are of his wrath than of his mercy. But we should never understand the Puritans if we did not bear in mind that they were still prisoners in that religion of Fear which casts out Love. The nearness of God was oftener a terror than a comfort to them. Yet perhaps in them was the last apparition of Faith as a wonder-worker in human affairs. Take away from them what you will, you cannot deny them _that_, and its constant presence made them great in a way and measure of which this generation, it is to be feared, can have but a very inadequate conception. If men now-a-days find their tone antipathetic, it would be modest at least to consider whether the fault be wholly theirs,--whether it was they who lacked, or we who have lost. Whether they were right or wrong in their dealing with the Quakers is not a question to be decided glibly after two centuries' struggle toward a conception of toleration very imperfect even yet, perhaps impossible to human nature. If they did not choose what seems to us the wisest way of keeping the Devil out of their household, they certainly had a very honest will to keep him out, which we might emulate with advantage. However it be in other cases, historic toleration must include intolerance among things to be tolerated. The false notion which the first settlers had of the savages by whom the continent was beflead rather than inhabited, arose in part from what they had heard of Mexico and Peru, in part from the splendid exaggerations of the early travellers, who could give their readers an El Dorado at the cheap cost of a good lie. Hence the kings, dukes, and earls who were so plenty among the red men. Pride of descent takes many odd shapes, none odder than when it hugs itself in an ancestry of filthy barbarians, who daubed themselves for ornament with a mixture of bear's-grease and soot, or colored clay, and were called emperors by Captain John Smith and his compeers. The droll contrast between this imaginary royalty and the squalid reality is nowhere exposed with more ludicrous unconsciousness than in the following passage of a letter from Fitz-John Winthrop to his father, November, 1674: "The bearer hereof, Mr. Danyell, one of the Royal Indian blood ... does desire me to give an account to yourself of the late unhappy accident which has happened to him. A little time since, a careless girl playing with fire at the door, it immediately took hold of the mats, & in an instant consumed it to ashes, with all the common as well as his lady's chamber furniture, & his own wardrobe & armory, Indian plate, & money to the value (as is credibly reported in his estimation) of more than an hundred pounds Indian.... The Indians have handsomely already built him a good house & brought him in several necessaries for his present supply, but that which takes deepest melancholy impression upon him is the loss of an excellent Masathuset cloth cloak & hat, which was only seen upon holy days & their general sessions. His journey at this time is only to intreat your favor & the gentlemen there for a kind relief in his necessity, having no kind of garment but a short jerkin which was charitably given him by one of his Common-Councilmen. He principally aims at a cloak & hat." "King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown." But it will be observed that there is no allusion to any such article of dress in the costume of this prince of Pequot. Some light is perhaps thrown on this deficiency by a line or two in one of Williams's letters, where he says: "I have long had scruples of selling the Natives ought but what may tend or bring to civilizing: I therefore neither brought nor shall sell them loose coats nor breeches." Precisely the opposite course was deemed effectual with the Highland Scotch, between whom and our Indians there was a very close analogy. They were compelled by law to adopt the usages of _Gallia Braccata_, and sansculottism made a penal offence. What impediment to civilization Williams had discovered in the offending garment it is hard to say. It is a question for Herr Teufelsdröck. Royalty, at any rate, in our day, is dependent for much of its success on the tailor. Williams's opportunities of studying the Indian character were perhaps greater than those of any other man of his time. He was always an advocate for justice toward them. But he seems to have had no better opinion of them than Mr. Parkman,[146] calling them shortly and sharply, "wolves endowed with men's brains." The same change of feeling has followed the same causes in their case as in that of the Highlanders,--they have become romantic in proportion as they ceased to be dangerous. As exhibitions of the writer's character, no letters in the collection have interested us more than those of John Tinker, who for many years was a kind of steward for John Winthrop and his son. They show him to have been a thoroughly faithful, grateful, and unselfish servant. He does not seem to have prospered except in winning respect, for when he died his funeral charges were paid by the public. We learn from one of his letters that John Winthrop, Jr., had a negro (presumably a slave) at Paquanet, for he says that a mad cow there "had almost spoiled the neger & made him ferfull to tend the rest of the cattell." That such slaves must have been rare, however, is plain from his constant complaints about the difficulty of procuring "help," some of which we have already quoted. His spelling of the word "ferfull" shows that the New England pronunciation of that word had been brought from the old country. He also uses the word "creatures" for kine, and the like, precisely as our farmers do now. There is one very comical passage in a letter of the 2nd of August, 1660, where he says: "There hath been a motion by some, the chief of the town, (New London) for my keeping an ordinary, or rather under the notion of a tavern which, _though it suits not with my genius_, yet am almost persuaded to accept for some good grounds." Tinker's modesty is most creditable to him, and we wish it were more common now. No people on the face of the earth suffer so much as we from impostors who keep inconveniences, "under the notion of a tavern," without any call of natural genius thereto; none endure with such unexemplary patience the superb indifference of inn-keepers, and the condescending inattention of their gentlemanly deputies. We are the thralls of our railroads and hotels, and we deserve it. Richard Saltonstall writes to John Winthrop, Jr., in 1636: "The best thing that I have to beg your thoughts for at this present is a motto or two that Mr. Prynne hath writ upon his chamber walls in the Tower." We copy a few phrases, chiefly for the contrast they make with Lovelace's famous verses to Althea. Nothing could mark more sharply the different habits of mind in Puritan and Cavalier. Lovelace is very charming, but he sings "The sweetness, mercy, majesty, And glories of _his_ King," to wit, Charles I. To him "stone walls do not a prison make," so long as he has "freedom in his love, and in his soul is free." Prynne's King was of another and higher kind: "_Carcer excludit mundum, includit Deum. Deus est turris etiam in turre: turris libertatis in turre angustiae: Turris quietis in turre molestice.... Arctari non potest qui in ipsa Dei infinitate incarceratus spatiatur.... Nil crus sentit in nervo si animus sit in coelo: nil corpus patitur in ergastulo, si anima sit in Christo_." If Lovelace has the advantage in fancy, Prynne has it as clearly in depth of sentiment. There could be little doubt which of the parties represented by these men would have the better if it came to a death-grapple. There is curiously little sentiment in these volumes. Most of the letters, except where some point of doctrine is concerned, are those of shrewd, practical men, busy about the affairs of this world, and earnest to build their New Jerusalem on something more solid than cloud. The truth is, that men anxious about their souls have not been by any means the least skilful in providing for the wants of the body. It was far less the enthusiasm than the common sense of the Puritans which made them what they were in politics and religion. That a great change should be wrought in the settlers by the circumstances of their position was inevitable; that this change should have had some disillusion in it, that it should have weaned them from the ideal and wonted them to the actual, was equally so. In 1664, not much more than a generation after the settlement, Williams prophesies: "When we that have been the eldest are rotting (to-morrow or next day) a generation will act, I fear, far unlike the first Winthrops and their models of love. I fear that the common trinity of the world (profit, preferment, pleasure) will here be the _tria omnia_ as in all the world beside, that Prelacy and Papacy too will in this wilderness predominate, that god Land will be (as now it is) as great a god with us English as god Gold was with the Spaniards. While we are here, noble sir, let us _viriliter hoc agere, rem agere humanam, divinam, Christianam_, which, I believe, is all of a most public genius," or, as we should now say, true patriotism. If Williams means no play on the word _humanam_ and _divinam_, the order of precedence in which he marshals them is noticeable. A generation later, what Williams had predicted was in a great measure verified. But what made New England Puritanism narrow was what made Scotch Cameronianism narrow,--its being secluded from the great movement of the nation. Till 1660 the colony was ruled and mostly inhabited by Englishmen closely connected with the party dominant in the mother country, and with their minds broadened by having to deal with questions of state and European policy. After that time they sank rapidly into provincials, narrow in thought, in culture, in creed. Such a pedantic portent as Cotton Mather would have been impossible in the first generation; he was the natural growth of the third,--the manifest judgment of God on a generation who thought Words a saving substitute for Things. Perhaps some injustice has been done to men like the second Governor Dudley, and it should be counted to them rather as a merit than a fault, that they wished to bring New England back within reach of the invigorating influence of national sympathies, and to rescue it from a tradition which had become empty formalism. Puritanism was dead, and its profession had become a wearisome cant before the Revolution of 1688 gave it that vital force in politics which it had lost in religion. I have gleaned all I could of what is morally picturesque or characteristic from these volumes, but New England history has rather a gregarious than a personal interest. Here, by inherent necessity rather than design, was made the first experiment in practical democracy, and accordingly hence began that reaction of the New World upon the Old whose result can hardly yet be estimated. There is here no temptation to make a hero, who shall sum up in his own individuality and carry forward by his own will that purpose of which we seem to catch such bewitching glances in history, which reveals itself more clearly and constantly, perhaps, in the annals of New England than elsewhere, and which yet, at best, is but tentative, doubtful of itself, turned this way and that by chance, made up of instinct, and modified by circumstance quite as much as it is directed by deliberate forethought. Such a purpose, or natural craving, or result of temporary influences, may be misguided by a powerful character to his own ends, or, if he be strongly in sympathy with it, may be hastened toward its own fulfilment; but there is no such heroic element in our drama, and what is remarkable is, that, under whatever government, democracy grew with the growth of the New England Colonies, and was at last potent enough to wrench them, and the better part of the continent with them, from the mother country. It is true that Jefferson embodied in the Declaration of Independence the speculative theories he had learned in France, but the impulse to separation came from New England; and those theories had been long since embodied there in the practice of the people, if they had never been formulated in distinct propositions. I have little sympathy with declaimers about the Pilgrim Fathers, who look upon them all as men of grand conceptions and superhuman foresight. An entire ship's company of Columbuses is what the world never saw. It is not wise to form any theory and fit our facts to it, as a man in a hurry is apt to cram his travelling-bag, with a total disregard of shape or texture. But perhaps it may be found that the facts will only fit comfortably together on a single plan, namely, that the fathers did have a conception (which those will call grand who regard simplicity as a necessary element of grandeur) of founding here a commonwealth on those two eternal bases of Faith and Work; that they had, indeed, no revolutionary ideas of universal liberty, but yet, what answered the purpose quite as well, an abiding faith in the brotherhood of man and the fatherhood of God; and that they did not so much propose to make all things new, as to develop the latent possibilities of English law and English character, by clearing away the fences by which the abuse of the one was gradually discommoning the other from the broad fields of natural right. They were not in advance of their age, as it is called, for no one who is so can ever work profitably in it; but they were alive to the highest and most earnest thinking of their time. Footnotes: [135] Written in December, 1864. [136] It is curious, that, when Cromwell proposed to transfer a colony from New England to Ireland, one of the conditions insisted on in Massachusetts was that a college should be established. [137] State Trials, II. 409. One would not reckon too closely with a man on trial for his life, but there is something pitiful in Peter's representing himself as coming back to England "out of the West Indias," in order to evade any complicity with suspected New England. [138] Waller put this into verse:-- "Let the rich ore forthwith be melted down And the state fixed by making him a crown." [139] The _third_ in Carlyle, 1654. [140] Collections, Third Series, Vol I. p. 183. [141] This speech may be found in the Annual Register of 1762. [142] Collection of Voyages, &c., from the Library of the Earl of Oxford, Vol. I. p. 151. [143] Howes writes the word symbolically. [144] "World" here should clearly be "work." [145] The title-page of which our learned Marsh has cited for the etymology of the word. [146] In his Jesuits in North America. LESSING[147] When Burns's humor gave its last pathetic flicker in his "John, don't let the awkward squad fire over me," was he thinking of actual brother-volunteers, or of possible biographers? Did his words betray only the rhythmic sensitiveness of poetic nerves, or were they a foreboding of that helpless future, when the poet lies at the mercy of the plodder,--of that bi-voluminous shape in which dulness overtakes and revenges itself on genius at last? Certainly Burns has suffered as much as most large-natured creatures from well-meaning efforts to account for him, to explain him away, to bring him into harmony with those well-regulated minds which, during a good part of the last century, found out a way, through rhyme, to snatch a prosiness beyond the reach of prose. Nay, he has been wronged also by that other want of true appreciation, which deals in panegyric, and would put asunder those two things which God has joined,--the poet and the man,--as if it were not the same rash improvidence that was the happiness of the verse and the misfortune of the gauger. But his death-bed was at least not haunted by the unappeasable apprehension of a German for his biographer; and that the fame of Lessing should have four times survived this cunningest assault of oblivion is proof enough that its base is broad and deep-set. There seems to be, in the average German mind, an inability or a disinclination to see a thing as it really is, unless it be a matter of science. It finds its keenest pleasure in divining a profound significance in the most trifling things, and the number of mare's-nests that have been stared into by the German _Gelehrter_ through his spectacles passes calculation. They are the one object of contemplation that makes that singular being perfectly happy, and they seem to be as common as those of the stork. In the dark forest of aesthetics, particularly, he finds them at every turn,--"fanno tutto il loco varo." If the greater part of our English criticism is apt only to skim the surface, the German, by way of being profound, too often burrows in delighted darkness quite beneath its subject, till the reader feels the ground hollow beneath him, and is fearful of caving into unknown depths of stagnant metaphysic air at every step. The Commentary on Shakespeare of Gervinus, a really superior man, reminds one of the Roman Campagna, penetrated underground in all directions by strange winding caverns, the work of human borers in search of we know not what. Above are the divine poet's larks and daisies, his incommunicable skies, his broad prospects of life and nature; and meanwhile our Teutonic _teredo_ worms his way below, and offers to be our guide into an obscurity of his own contriving. The reaction of language upon style, and even upon thought, by its limitations on the one hand, and its suggestions on the other, is so apparent to any one who has made even a slight study of comparative literature, that we have sometimes thought the German tongue at least an accessory before the fact, if nothing more, in the offences of German literature. The language has such a fatal genius for going stern-foremost, for yawing, and for not minding the helm without some ten minutes' notice in advance, that he must be a great sailor indeed who can safely make it the vehicle for anything but imperishable commodities. Vischer's _Aesthetik_, the best treatise on the subject, ancient or modern, is such a book as none but a German could write, and it is written as none but a German could have written it. The abstracts of its sections are sometimes nearly as long as the sections themselves, and it is as hard to make out which head belongs to which tail, as in a knot of snakes thawing themselves into sluggish individuality under a spring sun. The average German professor spends his life in making lanterns fit to guide us through the obscurest passages of all the _ologies_ and _ysics_, and there are none in the world of such honest workmanship. They are durable, they have intensifying glasses, reflectors of the most scientific make, capital sockets in which to set a light, and a handsome lump of potentially illuminating tallow is thrown in. But, in order to _see_ by them, the explorer must make his own candle, supply his own cohesive wick of common-sense, and light it himself. And yet the admirable thoroughness of the German intellect! We should be ungrateful indeed if we did not acknowledge that it has supplied the raw material in almost every branch of science for the defter wits of other nations to work on; yet we have a suspicion that there are certain lighter departments of literature in which it may be misapplied, and turn into something very like clumsiness. Delightful as Jean Paul's humor is, how much more so would it be if he only knew when to stop! Ethereally deep as is his sentiment, should we not feel it more if he sometimes gave us a little less of it,--if he would only not always deal out his wine by beer-measure? So thorough is the German mind, that might it not seem now and then to work quite through its subject, and expatiate in cheerful unconsciousness on the other side thereof? With all its merits of a higher and deeper kind, it yet seems to us that German literature has not quite satisfactorily answered that so long-standing question of the French Abbé about _esprit_. Hard as it is for a German to be clear, still harder to be light, he is more than ever awkward in his attempts to produce that quality of style, so peculiarly French, which is neither wit nor liveliness taken singly, but a mixture of the two that must be drunk while the effervescence lasts, and will not bear exportation into any other language. German criticism, excellent in other respects, and immeasurably superior to that of any other nation in its constructive faculty, in its instinct for getting at whatever principle of life lies at the heart of a work of genius, is seldom lucid, almost never entertaining. It may turn its light, if we have patience, into every obscurest cranny of its subject, one after another, but it never flashes light _out_ of the subject itself, as Sainte-Beuve, for example, so often does, and with such unexpected charm. We should be inclined to put Julian Schmidt at the head of living critics in all the more essential elements of his outfit; but with him is not one conscious at too frequent intervals of the professorial grind,--of that German tendency to bear on too heavily, where a French critic would touch and go with such exquisite measure? The Great Nation, as it cheerfully calls itself, is in nothing greater than its talent for saying little things agreeably, which is perhaps the very top of mere culture, and in literature is the next best thing to the power of saying great things as easily as if they were little German learning, like the elephants of Pyrrhus, is always in danger of turning upon what it was intended to adorn and reinforce, and trampling it ponderously to death. And yet what do we not owe it? Mastering all languages, all records of intellectual man, it has been able, or has enabled others, to strip away the husks of nationality and conventionalism from the literatures of many races, and to disengage that kernel of human truth which is the germinating principle of them all. Nay, it has taught us to recognize also a certain value in those very husks, whether as shelter for the unripe or food for the fallen seed. That the general want of style in German authors is not wholly the fault of the language is shown by Heine (a man of mixed blood), who can be daintily light in German; that it is not altogether a matter of race, is clear from the graceful airiness of Erasmus and Reuchlin in Latin, and of Grimm in French. The sense of heaviness which creeps over the reader from so many German books is mainly due, we suspect to the language, which seems wellnigh incapable of that aerial perspective so delightful in first-rate French, and even English, writing. But there must also be in the national character an insensibility to proportion, a want of that instinctive discretion which we call tact. Nothing short of this will account for the perpetual groping of German imaginative literature after some foreign mould in which to cast its thought or feeling, now trying a Louis Quatorze pattern, then something supposed to be Shakespearian, and at last going back to ancient Greece, or even Persia. Goethe himself, limpidly perfect as are many of his shorter poems, often fails in giving artistic coherence to his longer works. Leaving deeper qualities wholly out of the question, Wilhelm Meister seems a mere aggregation of episodes if compared with such a masterpiece as Paul and Virginia, or even with a happy improvisation like the Vicar of Wakefield. The second part of Faust, too, is rather a reflection of Goethe's own changed view of life and man's relation to it, than an harmonious completion of the original conception. Full of placid wisdom and exquisite poetry it certainly is; but if we look at it as a poem, it seems more as if the author had striven to get in all he could, than to leave out all he might. We cannot help asking what business have paper money and political economy and geognosy here? We confess that Thales and the Homunculus weary us not a little, unless, indeed, a poem be nothing, after all, but a prolonged conundrum. Many of Schiller's lyrical poems--though the best of them find no match in modern verse for rapid energy, the very axles of language kindling with swiftness--seem disproportionately long in parts, and the thought too often has the life wellnigh squeezed out of it in the sevenfold coils of diction, dappled though it be with splendid imagery. In German sentiment, which runs over so easily into sentimentalism, a foreigner cannot help being struck with a certain incongruousness. What can be odder, for example, than the mixture of sensibility and sausages in some of Goethe's earlier notes to Frau von Stein, unless, to be sure, the publishing them? It would appear that Germans were less sensible to the ludicrous--and we are far from saying that this may not have its compensatory advantages--than either the English or the French. And what is the source of this sensibility, if it be not an instinctive perception of the incongruous and disproportionate? Among all races, the English has ever shown itself most keenly alive to the fear of making itself ridiculous; and among all, none has produced so many humorists, only one of them, indeed, so profound as Cervantes, yet all masters in their several ways. What English-speaking man, except Boswell, could have arrived at Weimar, as Goethe did, in that absurd _Werthermontirung_? And where, out of Germany, could he have found a reigning Grand Duke to put his whole court into the same sentimental livery of blue and yellow, leather breeches, boots, and all, excepting only Herder, and that not on account of his clerical profession, but of his age? To be sure, it might be asked also where else in Europe was a prince to be met with capable of manly friendship with a man whose only decoration was his genius? But the comicality of the other fact no less remains. Certainly the German character is in no way so little remarkable as for its humor. If we were to trust the evidence of Herr Hub's dreary _Deutsche komische und humoristische Dichtung_, we should believe that no German had even so much as a suspicion of what humor meant, unless the book itself, as we are half inclined to suspect, be a joke in three volumes, the _want_ of fun being the real point thereof. If German patriotism can be induced to find a grave delight in it, we congratulate Herr Hub's publishers, and for ourselves advise any sober-minded man who may hereafter "be merry," not to "sing psalms," but to read Hub as the more serious amusement of the two. There are epigrams there that make life more solemn, and, if taken in sufficient doses, would make it more precarious. Even Jean Paul, the greatest of German humorous authors, and never surpassed in comic conception or in the pathetic quality of humor, is not to be named with his master, Sterne, as a creative humorist. What are Siebenkäs, Fixlein, Schmelzle, and Fibel, (a single lay-figure to be draped at will with whimsical sentiment and reflection, and put in various attitudes,) compared with the living reality of Walter Shandy and his brother Toby, characters which we do not see merely as puppets in the author's mind, but poetically projected from it in an independent being of their own? Heine himself, the most graceful, sometimes the most touching, of modern poets, and clearly the most easy of German humorists, seems to me wanting in a refined perception of that inward propriety which is only another name for poetic proportion, and shocks us sometimes with an _Unfläthigkeit_, as at the end of his _Deutschland_, which, if it make Germans laugh, as we should be sorry to believe, makes other people hold their noses. Such things have not been possible in English since Swift, and the _persifleur_ Heine cannot offer the same excuse of savage cynicism that might be pleaded for the Irishman. I have hinted that Herr Stahr's Life of Lessing is not precisely the kind of biography that would have been most pleasing to the man who could not conceive that an author should be satisfied with anything more than truth in praise, or anything less in criticism. My respect for what Lessing was, and for what he did, is profound. In the history of literature it would be hard to find a man so stalwart, so kindly, so sincere,[148] so capable of great ideas, whether in their influence on the intellect or the life, so unswervingly true to the truth, so free from the common weaknesses of his class. Since Luther, Germany has given birth to no such intellectual athlete,--to no son so German to the core. Greater poets she has had, but no greater writer; no nature more finely tempered. Nay, may we not say that great character is as rare a thing as great genius, if it be not even a nobler form of it? For surely it is easier to embody fine thinking, or delicate sentiment, or lofty aspiration, in a book than in a life. The written leaf, if it be, as some few are, a safe-keeper and conductor of celestial fire, is secure. Poverty cannot pinch, passion swerve, or trial shake it. But the man Lessing, harassed and striving life-long, always poor and always hopeful, with no patron but his own right-hand, the very shuttlecock of fortune, who saw ruin's ploughshare drive through the hearth on which his first home-fire was hardly kindled, and who, through all, was faithful to himself, to his friend, to his duty, and to his ideal, is something more inspiring for us than the most glorious utterance of merely intellectual power. The figure of Goethe is grand, it is rightfully pre-eminent, it has something of the calm, and something of the coldness, of the immortals; but the Valhalla of German letters can show one form, in its simple manhood, statelier even than his. Manliness and simplicity, if they are not necessary coefficients in producing character of the purest tone, were certainly leading elements in the Lessing who is still so noteworthy and lovable to us when eighty-six years have passed since his bodily presence vanished from among men. He loved clearness, he hated exaggeration in all its forms. He was the first German who had any conception of style, and who could be full without spilling over on all sides. Herr Stahr, we think, is not just the biographer he would have chosen for himself. His book is rather a panegyric than a biography. There is sometimes an almost comic disproportion between the matter and the manner, especially in the epic details of Lessing's onslaughts on the nameless herd of German authors. It is as if Sophocles should have given a strophe to every bullock slain by Ajax in his mad foray upon the Grecian commissary stores. He is too fond of striking an attitude, and his tone rises unpleasantly near a scream, as he calls the personal attention of heaven and earth to something which Lessing himself would have thought a very matter-of-course affair. He who lays it down as an axiom, that "genius loves simplicity," would hardly have been pleased to hear the "Letters on Literature" called the "burning thunderbolts of his annihilating criticism," or the Anti-Götze pamphlets, "the hurtling arrows that sped from the bow of the immortal hero." Nor would he with whom accuracy was a matter of conscience have heard patiently that the Letters "appeared in a period distinguished for its lofty tone of mind, and in their own towering boldness they are a true picture of the intrepid character of the age."[149] If the age was what Herr Stahr represents it to have been, where is the great merit of Lessing? He would have smiled, we suspect, a little contemptuously, at Herr Stahr's repeatedly quoting a certificate from the "historian of the proud Britons," that he was "the first critic in Europe." Whether we admit or not Lord Macaulay's competence in the matter, we are sure that Lessing would not have thanked his biographer for this soup-ticket to a ladleful of fame. If ever a man stood firmly on his own feet, and asked help of none, that man was Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. Herr Stahr's desire to _make_ a hero of his subject, and his love for sonorous sentences like those we have quoted above, are apt to stand somewhat in the way of our chance at taking a fair measure of the man, and seeing in what his heroism really lay. He furnishes little material for a comparative estimate of Lessing, or for judging of the foreign influences which helped from time to time in making him what he was. Nothing is harder than to worry out a date from Herr Stahr's haystacks of praise and quotation. Yet dates are of special value in tracing the progress of an intellect like Lessing's, which, little actuated by an inward creative energy, was commonly stirred to motion by the impulse of other minds, and struck out its brightest flashes by collision with them. He himself tells us that a critic should "first seek out some one with whom he can contend," and quotes in justification from one of Aristotle's commentators, _Solet Aristoteles quaerere pugnam in suis libris_. This Lessing was always wont to do. He could only feel his own strength, and make others feel it,--could only call it into full play in an intellectual wrestling-bout. He was always anointed and ready for the ring, but with this distinction, that he was no mere prize-fighter, or bully for the side that would pay him best, nor even a contender for mere sentiment, but a self-forgetful champion for the truth as he saw it. Nor is this true of him only as a critic. His more purely imaginative works--his Minna, his Emilia, his Nathan--were all written, not to satisfy the craving of a poetic instinct, nor to rid head and heart of troublous guests by building them a lodging outside himself, as Goethe used to do, but to prove some thesis of criticism or morals by which Truth could be served. His zeal for her was perfectly unselfish. "Does one write, then, for the sake of being always in the right? I think I have been as serviceable to Truth," he says, "when I miss her, and my failure is the occasion of another's discovering her, as if I had discovered her myself."[150] One would almost be inclined to think, from Herr Stahr's account of the matter, that Lessing had been an autochthonous birth of the German soil, without intellectual ancestry or helpful kindred. That this is the sufficient natural history of no original mind we need hardly say, since originality consists quite as much in the power of using to purpose what it finds ready to its hand, as in that of producing what is absolutely new. Perhaps we might say that it was nothing more than the faculty of combining the separate, and therefore ineffectual, conceptions of others, and making them into living thought by the breath of its own organizing spirit. A great man without a past, if he be not an impossibility, will certainly have no future. He would be like those conjectural Miltons and Cromwells of Gray's imaginary Hamlet. The only privilege of the original man is, that, like other sovereign princes, he has the right to call in the current coin and reissue it stamped with his own image, as was the practice of Lessing. Herr Stahr's over-intensity of phrase is less offensive than amusing when applied to Lessing's early efforts in criticism. Speaking of poor old Gottsched, he says: "Lessing assailed him sometimes with cutting criticism, and again with exquisite humor. In the notice of Gottsched's poems, he says, among other things, 'The exterior of the volume is so handsome that it will do great credit to the bookstores, and it is to be hoped that it will continue to do so for a long time. But to give a satisfactory idea of the interior surpasses our powers.' And in conclusion he adds, 'These poems cost two thalers and four groschen. The two thalers pay for the ridiculous, and the four groschen pretty much for the useful.'" Again, he tells us that Lessing concludes his notice of Klopstock's Ode to God "with these inimitably roguish words: 'What presumption to beg thus earnestly for a woman!' Does not a whole book of criticism lie in these nine words?" For a young man of twenty-two, Lessing's criticisms show a great deal of independence and maturity of thought; but humor he never had, and his wit was always of the bluntest,--crushing rather than cutting. The mace, and not the scymitar, was his weapon. Let Herr Stahr put all Lessing's "inimitably roguish words" together, and compare them with these few intranslatable lines from Voltaire's letter to Rousseau, thanking him for his _Discours sur l'Inégalite_: "On n'a jamais employé tant d'esprit à vouloir nous rendre bêtes; il prend enviede marcher à quatre pattes quand on lit votre ouvrage." Lessing from the first was something far better than a wit. Force was always much more characteristic of him than cleverness. Sometimes Herr Stahr's hero-worship leads him into positive misstatement. For example, speaking of Lessing's Preface to the "Contributions to the History and Reform of the Theatre," he tells us that "his eye was directed chiefly to the English theatre and Shakespeare." Lessing at that time (1749) was only twenty, and knew little more than the names of any foreign dramatists except the French. In this very Preface his English list skips from Shakespeare to Dryden, and in the Spanish he omits Calderon, Tirso de Molina, and Alarcon. Accordingly, we suspect that the date is wrongly assigned to Lessing's translation of _Toda la Vida es Sueño_. His mind was hardly yet ready to feel the strange charm of this most imaginative of Calderon's dramas. Even where Herr Stahr undertakes to give us light on the _sources_ of Lessing, it is something of the dimmest. He attributes "Miss Sara Sampson" to the influence of the "Merchant of London," as Mr. Evans translates it literally from the German, meaning our old friend, "George Barnwell." But we are strongly inclined to suspect from internal evidence that Moore's more recent "Gamester" gave the prevailing impulse. And if Herr Stahr must needs tell us anything of the Tragedy of Middle-Class Life, he ought to have known that on the English stage it preceded Lillo by more than a century,--witness the "Yorkshire Tragedy,"--and that something very like it was even much older in France. We are inclined to complain, also, that he does not bring out more clearly how much Lessing owed to Diderot both as dramatist and critic, nor give us so much as a hint of what already existing English criticism did for him in the way of suggestion and guidance. But though we feel it to be our duty to say so much of Herr Stahr's positive faults and negative short-comings, yet we leave him in very good humor. While he is altogether too full upon certain points of merely transitory importance,--such as the quarrel with Klotz,--yet we are bound to thank him both for the abundance of his extracts from Lessing, and for the judgment he has shown in the choice of them. Any one not familiar with his writings will be able to get a very good notion of the quality of his mind, and the amount of his literary performance, from these volumes; and that, after all, is the chief matter. As to the absolute merit of his works other than critical, Herr Stahr's judgment is too much at the mercy of his partiality to be of great value. Of Mr. Evans's translation we can speak for the most part with high commendation. There are great difficulties in translating German prose; and whatever other good things Herr Stahr may have learned from Lessing, terseness and clearness are not among them. We have seldom seen a translation which read more easily, or was generally more faithful. That Mr. Evans should nod now and then we do not wonder, nor that he should sometimes choose the wrong word. We have only compared him with the original where we saw reason for suspecting a slip; but, though we have not found much to complain of, we have found enough to satisfy us that his book will gain by a careful revision. We select a few oversights, mainly from the first volume, as examples. On page 34, comparing Lessing with Goethe on arriving at the University, Mr. Evans, we think, obscures, if he does not wholly lose the meaning, when he translates _Leben_ by "social relations," and is altogether wrong in rendering _Patrizier_ by "aristocrat." At the top of the next page, too, "suspicious" is not the word for _bedenklich_. Had he been writing English, he would surely have said "questionable." On page 47, "overtrodden shoes" is hardly so good as the idiomatic "down at the heel." On page 104, "A very humorous representation" is oddly made to "confirm the documentary evidence." The reverse is meant. On page 115, the sentence beginning "the tendency in both" needs revising. On page 138, Mr. Evans speaks of the "Poetical Village-younker of Destouches." This, we think, is hardly the English of _Le Poète Campagnard_, and almost recalls Lieberkühn's theory of translation, toward which Lessing was so unrelenting,--"When I do not understand a passage, why, I translate it word for word." On page 149, "Miss Sara Sampson" is called "the first social tragedy of the German Drama." All tragedies surely are _social_, except the "Prometheus." _Bürgerliche Tragödie_ means a tragedy in which the protagonist is taken from common life, and perhaps cannot be translated clearly into English except by "tragedy of middle-class life." So on page 170 we find Emilia Galotti called a "Virginia _bourgeoise_," and on page 172 a hospital becomes a _lazaretto_. On page 190 we have a sentence ending in this strange fashion: "in an episode of the English original, which Wieland omitted entirely, one of its characters nevertheless appeared in the German tragedy." On page 205 we have the Seven Years' War called "a bloody _process_." This is mere carelessness, for Mr. Evans, in the second volume, translates it rightly "_lawsuit_." What English reader would know what "You are intriguing me" means, on page 228? On page 264, Vol. II., we find a passage inaccurately rendered, which we consider of more consequence, because it is a quotation from Lessing. "O, out upon the man who claims, Almighty God, to be a preacher of Thy word, and yet so impudently asserts that, in order to attain Thy purposes, there was only one way in which it pleased _Thee_ to make _Thyself_ known to him!" This is very far from _nur den einzigen Weg gehabt den Du Dir gefallen lassen ihm kund zu machen!_ The _ihm_ is scornfully emphatic. We hope Professor Evans will go over his version for a second edition much more carefully than we have had any occasion to do. He has done an excellent service to our literature, for which we heartily thank him, in choosing a book of this kind to translate, and translating it so well. We would not look such a gift horse too narrowly in the mouth. Let us now endeavor to sum up the result of Lessing's life and labor with what success we may. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing was born (January 22, 1729) at Camenz, in Upper Lusatia, the second child and eldest son of John Gottfried Lessing, a Lutheran clergyman. Those who believe in the persistent qualities of race, or the cumulative property of culture, will find something to their purpose in his Saxon blood and his clerical and juristic ancestry. It is worth mentioning, that his grandfather, in the thesis for his doctor's degree, defended the right to entire freedom of religious belief. The name first comes to the surface in Parson Clement Lessigk, nearly three centuries ago, and survives to the present day in a painter of some distinction. It has almost passed into a proverb, that the mothers of remarkable children have been something beyond the common. If there be any truth in the theory, the case of Lessing was an exception, as might have been inferred, perhaps, from the peculiarly masculine type of his character and intellect. His mother was in no wise superior, but his father seems to have been a man somewhat above the pedantic average of the provincial clergymen of his day, and to have been a scholar in the ampler meaning of the word. Besides the classics, he had possessed himself of French and English, and was somewhat versed in the Oriental languages. The temper of his theology may be guessed from his having been, as his son tells us with some pride, one of "the earliest translators of Tillotson." We can only conjecture him from the letters which Lessing wrote to him, from which we should fancy him as on the whole a decided and even choleric old gentleman, in whom the wig, though not a predominant, was yet a notable feature, and who was, like many other fathers, permanently astonished at the fruit of his loins. He would have preferred one of the so-called learned professions for his son,--theology above all,--and would seem to have never quite reconciled himself to his son's distinction, as being in none of the three careers which alone were legitimate. Lessing's bearing towards him, always independent, is really beautiful in its union of respectful tenderness with unswerving self-assertion. When he wished to evade the maternal eye, Gotthold used in his letters to set up a screen of Latin between himself and her; and we conjecture the worthy Pastor Primarius playing over again in his study at Camenz, with some scruples of conscience, the old trick of Chaucer's fox:-- "Mulier est hominis confusio; Madam, the sentence of this Latin is. Woman is mannës joy and mannës bliss." He appears to have snatched a fearful and but ill-concealed joy from the sight of the first collected edition of his son's works, unlike Tillotson as they certainly were. Ah, had they only been _Opera_! Yet were they not volumes, after all, and able to stand on their own edges beside the immortals, if nothing more? After grinding with private-tutor Mylius the requisite time, Lessing entered the school of Camenz, and in his thirteenth year was sent to the higher institution at Meissen. We learn little of his career there, except that Theophrastus, Plautus, and Terence were already his favorite authors, that he once characteristically distinguished himself by a courageous truthfulness, and that he wrote a Latin poem on the valor of the Saxon soldiers, which his father very sensibly advised him to shorten. In 1750, four years after leaving the school, he writes to his father: "I believed even when I was at Meissen that one must learn much there which he cannot make the least use of in real life (_der Welt_), and I now [after trying Leipzig and Wittenberg] see it all the more clearly,"--a melancholy observation which many other young men have made under similar circumstances. Sent to Leipzig in his seventeenth year, he finds himself an awkward, ungainly lad, and sets diligently to perfecting himself in the somewhat unscholastic accomplishments of riding, dancing, and fencing. He also sedulously frequents the theatre, and wrote a play, "The Young Scholar," which attained the honor of representation. Meanwhile his most intimate companion was a younger brother of his old tutor Mylius, a young man of more than questionable morals, and who had even written a satire on the elders of Camenz, for which--over-confidently trusting himself in the outraged city--he had been fined and imprisoned; so little could the German Muse, celebrated by Klopstock for her swiftness of foot, protect her son. With this scandalous person and with play-actors, more than probably of both sexes, did the young Lessing share a Christmas cake sent him by his mother. Such news was not long in reaching Camenz, and we can easily fancy how tragic it seemed in the little parsonage there, to what cabinet councils it gave rise in the paternal study, to what ominous shaking of the clerical wig in that domestic Olympus. A pious fraud is practised on the boy, who hurries home thinly clad through the winter weather, his ill-eaten Christmas cake wringing him with remorseful indigestion, to receive the last blessing, if such a prodigal might hope for it, of a broken-hearted mother. He finds the good dame in excellent health, and softened toward him by a cold he has taken on his pious journey. He remains at home several months, now writing Anacreontics of such warmth that his sister (as volunteer representative of the common hangman) burns them in the family stove; now composing sermons to convince his mother that "he could be a preacher any day,"--a theory of that sacred office unhappily not yet extinct. At Easter, 1747, he gets back to Leipzig again, with some scant supply of money in his pocket, but is obliged to make his escape thence between two days somewhere toward the middle of the next year, leaving behind him some histrionic debts (chiefly, we fear, of a certain Mademoiselle Lorenz) for which he had confidingly made himself security. Stranded, by want of floating or other capital, at Wittenberg, he enters himself, with help from home, as a student there, but soon migrates again to Berlin, which had been his goal when making his hegira from Leipzig. In Berlin he remained three years, applying himself to his chosen calling of author at all work, by doing whatever honest job offered itself,--verse, criticism, or translation,--and profitably studious in a very wide range of languages and their literature. Above all, he learned the great secret, which his stalwart English contemporary, Johnson, also acquired, of being able to "dine heartily" for threepence. Meanwhile he continues in a kind of colonial dependence on the parsonage at Camenz, the bonds gradually slackening, sometimes shaken a little rudely, and always giving alarming hints of approaching and inevitable autonomy. From the few home letters of Lessing which remain, (covering the period before 1753, there are only eight in all,) we are able to surmise that a pretty constant maternal cluck and shrill paternal warning were kept up from the home coop. We find Lessing defending the morality of the stage and his own private morals against charges and suspicions of his parents, and even making the awful confession that he does not consider the Christian religion itself as a thing "to be taken on trust," nor a Christian by mere tradition so valuable a member of society as "one who has _prudently_ doubted, and by the way of examination has arrived at conviction, or at least striven to arrive." Boyish scepticism of the superficial sort is a common phenomenon enough, but the Lessing variety of it seems to us sufficiently rare in a youth of twenty. What strikes us mainly in the letters of these years is not merely the maturity they show, though that is remarkable, but the tone. We see already in them the cheerful and never overweening self-confidence which always so pleasantly distinguished Lessing, and that strength of tackle, so seldom found in literary men, which brings the mind well home to its anchor, enabling it to find holding ground and secure riding in any sea. "What care I to live in plenty," he asks gayly, "if I only live?" Indeed, Lessing learned early, and never forgot, that whoever would be life's master, and not its drudge, must make it a means, and never allow it to become an end. He could say more truly than Goethe, _Mein Acker ist die Zeit_, since he not only sowed in it the seed of thought for other men and other times, but cropped it for his daily bread. Above all, we find Lessing even thus early endowed with the power of keeping his eyes wide open to what he was after, to what would help or hinder him,--a much more singular gift than is commonly supposed. Among other jobs of this first Berlin period, he had undertaken to arrange the library of a certain Herr Rüdiger, getting therefor his meals and "other receipts," whatever they may have been. His father seems to have heard with anxiety that this arrangement had ceased, and Lessing writes to him: "I never wished to have anything to do with this old man longer than _until I had made myself thoroughly acquainted with his great library_. This is now accomplished, and we have accordingly parted." This was in his twenty-first year, and we have no doubt, from the _range_ of scholarship which Lessing had at command so young, that it was perfectly true. All through his life he was thoroughly German in this respect also, that he never _quite_ smelted his knowledge clear from some slag of learning. In the early part of the first Berlin residence, Pastor Primarius Lessing, hearing that his son meditated a movement on Vienna, was much exercised with fears of the temptation to Popery he would be exposed to in that capital. We suspect that the attraction thitherward had its source in a perhaps equally catholic, but less theological magnet,--the Mademoiselle Lorenz above mentioned. Let us remember the perfectly innocent passion of Mozart for an actress, and be comforted. There is not the slightest evidence that Lessing's life at this time, or any other, though careless, was in any way debauched. No scandal was ever coupled with his name, nor is any biographic chemistry needed to bleach spots out of his reputation. What cannot be said of Wieland, of Goethe, of Schiller, of Jean Paul, may be safely affirmed of this busy and single-minded man. The parental fear of Popery brought him a seasonable supply of money from home, which enabled him to clothe himself decently enough to push his literary fortunes, and put on a bold front with publishers. Poor enough he often was, but never in so shabby a pass that he was forced to write behind a screen, like Johnson. It was during this first stay in Berlin that Lessing was brought into personal relations with Voltaire. Through an acquaintance with the great man's secretary, Richier, he was employed as translator in the scandalous Hirschel lawsuit, so dramatically set forth by Carlyle in his Life of Frederick, though Lessing's share in it seems to have been unknown to him. The service could hardly have been other than distasteful to him; but it must have been with some thrill of the _anche io!_ kind that the poor youth, just fleshing his maiden pen in criticism, stood face to face with the famous author, with whose name all Europe rang from side to side. This was in February, 1751. Young as he was, we fancy those cool eyes of his making some strange discoveries as to the real nature of that lean nightmare of Jesuits and dunces. Afterwards the same secretary lent him the manuscript of the _Siècle de Louis XIV._, and Lessing thoughtlessly taking it into the country with him, it was not forthcoming when called for by the author. Voltaire naturally enough danced with rage, screamed all manner of unpleasant things about robbery and the like, cashiered the secretary, and was, we see no reason to doubt, really afraid of a pirated edition. _This_ time his cry of wolf must have had a quaver of sincerity in it. Herr Stahr, who can never keep separate the Lessing as he then was and the Lessing as he afterwards became, takes fire at what he chooses to consider an unworthy suspicion of the Frenchman, and treats himself to some rather cheap indignation on the subject. For ourselves, we think Voltaire altogether in the right, and we respect Lessing's honesty too much to suppose, with his biographer, that it was this which led him, years afterwards, to do such severe justice to _Merope_, and other tragedies of the same author. The affair happened in December, 1751, and a year later Lessing calls Voltaire a "great man," and says of his _Amalie_, that "it has not only beautiful passages, it is beautiful throughout, and the tears of a reader of feeling will justify our judgment." Surely there is no resentment here. Our only wonder would be at its being written after the Hirschel business. At any rate, we cannot allow Herr Stahr to shake our faith in the sincerity of Lessing's motives in criticism,--he could not in the soundness of the criticism itself,--by tracing it up to a spring at once so petty and so personal. During a part of 1752,[151] Lessing was at Wittenberg again as student of medicine, the parental notion of a strictly professional career of some kind not having yet been abandoned. We must give his father the credit of having done his best, in a well-meaning paternal fashion, to make his son over again in his own image, and to thwart the design of nature by coaxing or driving him into the pinfold of a prosperous obscurity. But Gotthold, with all his gifts, had no talent whatever for contented routine. His was a mind always in solution, which the divine order of things, as it is called, could not precipitate into any of the traditional forms of crystallization, and in which the time to come was already fermenting. The principle of growth was in the young literary hack, and he must obey it or die. His was to the last a _natura naturans_, never a _naturata_. Lessing seems to have done what he could to be a dutiful failure. But there was something in him stronger and more sacred than even filial piety; and the good old pastor is remembered now only as the father of a son who would have shared the benign oblivion of his own theological works, if he could only have had his wise way with him. Even after never so many biographies and review articles, genius continues to be a marvellous and inspiring thing. At the same time, considering the then condition of what was pleasantly called literature in Germany, there was not a little to be said on the paternal side of the question, though it may not seem now a very heavy mulct to give up one son out of ten to immortality,--at least the Fates seldom decimate in _this_ way. Lessing had now, if we accept the common standard in such matters, "completed his education," and the result may be summed up in his own words to Michaelis, 16th October, 1754: "I have studied at the Fürstenschule at Meissen, and after that at Leipzig and Wittenberg. But I should be greatly embarrassed if I were asked to tell _what_." As early as his twentieth year he had arrived at some singular notions as to the uses of learning. On the 20th of January, 1749, he writes to his mother: "I found out that books, indeed, would make me learned, _but never make me a man_." Like most men of great knowledge, as distinguished from mere scholars, he seems to have been always a rather indiscriminate reader, and to have been fond, as Johnson was, of "browsing" in libraries. Johnson neither in amplitude of literature nor exactness of scholarship could be deemed a match for Lessing; but they were alike in the power of readily applying whatever they had learned, whether for purposes of illustration or argument. They resemble each other, also, in a kind of absolute common-sense, and in the force with which they could plant a direct blow with the whole weight both of their training and their temperament behind it. As a critic, Johnson ends where Lessing begins. The one is happy in the lower region of the understanding: the other can breathe freely in the ampler air of reason alone. Johnson acquired learning, and stopped short from indolence at a certain point. Lessing assimilated it, and accordingly his education ceased only with his life. Both had something of the intellectual sluggishness that is apt to go with great strength; and both had to be baited by the antagonism of circumstances or opinions, not only into the exhibition, but into the possession of their entire force. Both may be more properly called original men than, in the highest sense, original writers. From 1752 to 1760, with an interval of something over two years spent in Leipzig to be near a good theatre, Lessing was settled in Berlin, and gave himself wholly and earnestly to the life of a man of letters. A thoroughly healthy, cheerful nature he most surely had, with something at first of the careless light-heartedness of youth. Healthy he was not always to be, not always cheerful, often very far from light-hearted, but manly from first to last he eminently was. Downcast he could never be, for his strongest instinct, invaluable to him also as a critic, was to see things as they really are. And this not in the sense of a cynic, but of one who measures himself as well as his circumstances,--who loves truth as the most beautiful of all things and the only permanent possession, as being of one substance with the soul. In a man like Lessing, whose character is even more interesting than his works, the tone and turn of thought are what we like to get glimpses of. And for this his letters are more helpful than those of most authors, as might be expected of one who said of himself, that, in his more serious work, "he must profit by his first heat to accomplish anything." He began, we say, light-heartedly. He did not believe that "one should thank God only for good things." "He who is only in good health, and is willing to work, has nothing to fear in the world." "What another man would call want, I call comfort." "Must not one often act thoughtlessly, if one would provoke Fortune to do something for him?" In his first inexperience, the life of "the sparrow on the house-top" (which we find oddly translated "roof") was the one he would choose for himself. Later in life, when he wished to marry, he was of another mind, and perhaps discovered that there was something in the old father's notion of a fixed position. "The life of the sparrow on the house-top is only right good if one need not expect any end to it. If it cannot always last, every day it lasts too long,"--he writes to Ebert in 1770. Yet even then he takes the manly view. "Everything in the world has its time, everything may be overlived and overlooked, if one only have health." Nor let any one suppose that Lessing, full of courage as he was, found professional authorship a garden of Alcinoüs. From creative literature he continually sought refuge, and even repose, in the driest drudgery of mere scholarship. On the 26th of April, 1768, he writes to his brother with something of his old gayety: "Thank God, the time will soon come when I cannot call a penny in the world my own but I must first earn it. I am unhappy if it must be by writing." And again in May, 1771: "Among all the wretched, I think him the most wretched who must work with his head, even if he is not conscious of having one. But what is the good of complaining?" Lessing's life, if it is a noble example, so far as it concerned himself alone, is also a warning when another is to be asked to share it. He too would have profited had he earlier learned and more constantly borne in mind the profound wisdom of that old saying, _Si sit prudentia_. Let the young poet, however he may believe of his art that "all other pleasures are not worth its pains," consider well what it is to call down fire from heaven to keep the pot boiling, before he commit himself to a life of authorship as something fine and easy. That fire will not condescend to such office, though it come without asking on ceremonial days to the free service of the altar. Lessing, however, never would, even if he could, have so desecrated his better powers. For a bare livelihood, he always went sturdily to the market of hack-work, where his learning would fetch him a price. But it was only in extremest need that he would claim that benefit of clergy. "I am worried," he writes to his brother Karl, 8th April, 1773, "and work because working is the only means to cease being so. But you and Vess are very much mistaken if you think that it could ever be indifferent to me, under such circumstances, on what I work. Nothing less true, whether as respects the work itself or the principal object wherefor I work. I have been in my life before now in very wretched circumstances, yet never in such that I would have written for bread in the true meaning of the word. I have begun my 'Contributions' because this work helps me ... to live from one day to another." It is plain that he does not call this kind of thing in any high sense writing. Of that he had far other notions; for though he honestly disclaimed the title, yet his dream was always to be a poet. But he _was_ willing to work, as he claimed to be, because he had one ideal higher than that of being a poet, namely, to be thoroughly a man. To Nicolai he writes in 1758: "All ways of earning his bread are alike becoming to an honest man, whether to split wood or to sit at the helm of state. It does not concern his conscience how useful he is, but how useful he would be." Goethe's poetic sense was the Minotaur to which he sacrificed everything. To make a study, he would soil the maiden petals of a woman's soul; to get the delicious sensation of a reflex sorrow, he would wring a heart. All that saves his egoism from being hateful is, that, with its immense reaches, it cheats the sense into a feeling of something like sublimity. A patch of sand is unpleasing; a desert has all the awe of ocean. Lessing also felt the duty of self-culture; but it was not so much for the sake of feeding fat this or that faculty as of strengthening character,--the only soil in which real mental power can root itself and find sustenance. His advice to his brother Karl, who was beginning to write for the stage, is two parts moral to one literary. "Study ethics diligently, learn to express yourself well and correctly, and cultivate your own character. Without that I cannot conceive a good dramatic author." Marvellous counsel this will seem to those who think that wisdom is only to be found in the fool's paradise of Bohemia! We said that Lessing's dream was to be a poet. In comparison with success as a dramatist, he looked on all other achievement as inferior in kind. In. 1767 he writes to Gleim (speaking of his call to Hamburg): "Such circumstances were needed to rekindle in me an almost extinguished love for the theatre. I was just beginning to lose myself in other studies which would have made me unfit for any work of genius. My _Laocoon_ is now a secondary labor." And yet he never fell into the mistake of overvaluing what he valued so highly. His unflinching common-sense would have saved him from that, as it afterwards enabled him to see that something was wanting in him which must enter into the making of true poetry, whose distinction from prose is an inward one of nature, and not an outward one of form. While yet under thirty, he assures Mendelssohn that he was quite right in neglecting poetry for philosophy, because "only a part of our youth should be given up to the arts of the beautiful. We must practise ourselves in weightier things before we die. An old man, who lifelong has done nothing but rhyme, and an old man who lifelong has done nothing but pass his breath through a stick with holes in it,--I doubt much whether such an old man has arrived at what he was meant for." This period of Lessing's life was a productive one, though none of its printed results can be counted of permanent value, except his share in the "Letters on German Literature." And even these must be reckoned as belonging to the years of his apprenticeship and training for the master-workman he afterwards became. The small fry of authors and translators were hardly fitted to call out his full strength, but his vivisection of them taught him the value of certain structural principles. "To one dissection of the fore quarter of an ass," says Haydon in his diary, "I owe my information." Yet even in his earliest criticisms we are struck with the same penetration and steadiness of judgment, the same firm grasp of the essential and permanent, that were afterwards to make his opinions law in the courts of taste. For example, he says of Thomson, that, "as a dramatic poet, he had the fault of never knowing when to leave off; he lets every character talk so long as anything can be said; accordingly, during these prolonged conversations, the action stands still, and the story becomes tedious." Of "Roderick Random," he says that "its author is neither a Richardson nor a Fielding; he is one of those writers of whom there are plenty among the Germans and French." We cite these merely because their firmness of tone seems to us uncommon in a youth of twenty-four. In the "Letters," the range is much wider, and the application of principles more consequent. He had already secured for himself a position among the literary men of that day, and was beginning to be feared for the inexorable justice of his criticisms. His "Fables" and his "Miss Sara Sampson" had been translated into French, and had attracted the attention of Grimm, who says of them (December, 1754): "These Fables commonly contain in a few lines a new and profound moral meaning. M. Lessing has much wit, genius, and invention; the dissertations which follow the Fables prove moreover that he is an excellent critic." In Berlin, Lessing made friendships, especially with Mendelssohn, Von Kleist, Nicolai, Gleim, and Ramler. For Mendelssohn and Von Kleist he seems to have felt a real love; for the others at most a liking, as the best material that could be had. It certainly was not of the juiciest. He seems to have worked hard and played hard, equally at home in his study and Baumann's wine-cellar. He was busy, poor, and happy. But he was restless. We suspect that the necessity of forever picking up crumbs, and their occasional scarcity, made the life of the sparrow on the house-top less agreeable than he had expected. The imagined freedom was not quite so free after all, for necessity is as short a tether as dependence, or official duty, or what not, and the regular occupation of grub-hunting is as tame and wearisome as another. Moreover, Lessing had probably by this time sucked his friends dry of any intellectual stimulus they could yield him; and when friendship reaches that pass, it is apt to be anything but inspiring. Except Mendelssohn and Von Kleist, they were not men capable of rating him at his true value; and Lessing was one of those who always burn up the fuel of life at a fearful rate. Admirably dry as the supplies of Ramler and the rest no doubt were, they had not substance enough to keep his mind at the high temperature it needed, and he would soon be driven to the cutting of green stuff from his own wood-lot, more rich in smoke than fire. Besides this, he could hardly have been at ease among intimates most of whom could not even conceive of that intellectual honesty, that total disregard of all personal interests where truth was concerned, which was an innate quality of Lessing's mind. Their theory of criticism was, Truth, or even worse if possible, for all who do not belong to our set; for us, that delicious falsehood which is no doubt a slow poison, but then so _very_ slow. Their nerves were unbraced by that fierce democracy of thought, trampling on all prescription, all tradition, in which Lessing loved to shoulder his way and advance his insupportable foot. "What is called a heretic," he says in his Preface to _Berengarius_, "has a very good side. It is a man who at least _wishes_ to see with his own eyes." And again, "I know not if it be a duty to offer up fortune and life to the truth; ... but I know it _is_ a duty, if one undertake to teach the truth, to teach the whole of it, or none at all." Such men as Gleim and Ramler were mere _dilettanti_, and could have no notion how sacred his convictions are to a militant thinker like Lessing. His creed as to the rights of friendship in criticism might be put in the words of Selden, the firm tread of whose mind was like his own: "Opinion and affection extremely differ. Opinion is something wherein I go about to give reason why all the world should think as I think. Affection is a thing wherein I look after the pleasing of myself." How little his friends were capable of appreciating this view of the matter is plain from a letter of Ramler to Gleim, cited by Herr Stahr. Lessing had shown up the weaknesses of a certain work by the Abbé Batteux (long ago gathered to his literary fathers as conclusively as poor old Ramler himself), without regard to the important fact that the Abbé's book had been translated by a friend. Horrible to think of at best, thrice horrible when the friend's name was Ramler! The impression thereby made on the friendly heart may be conceived. A ray of light penetrated the rather opaque substance of Herr Ramler's mind, and revealed to him the dangerous character of Lessing. "I know well," he says, "that Herr Lessing means to speak his own opinion, and"--what is the dreadful inference?--"and, by suppressing others, to gain air, and make room for himself. This disposition is not to be overcome."[152] Fortunately not, for Lessing's opinion always meant something, and was worth having. Gleim no doubt sympathized deeply with the sufferer by this treason, for he too had been shocked at some disrespect for La Fontaine, as a disciple of whom he had announced himself. Berlin was hardly the place for Lessing, if he could not take a step in any direction without risk of treading on somebody's gouty foot. This was not the last time that he was to have experience of the fact that the critic's pen, the more it has of truth's celestial temper, the more it is apt to reverse the miracle of the archangel's spear, and to bring out whatever is toadlike in the nature of him it touches. We can well understand the sadness with which he said, "Der Blick des Forscher's fand Nicht selten mehr als er zu finden wünschte." Here, better than anywhere, we may cite something which he wrote of himself to a friend of Klotz. Lessing, it will be remembered, had literally "suppressed" Klotz. "What do you apprehend, then, from me? The more faults and errors you point out to me, so much the more I shall learn of you; the more I learn of you, the more thankful shall I be....I wish you knew me more thoroughly. If the opinion you have of my learning and genius (_Geist_) should perhaps suffer thereby, yet I am sure the idea I would like you to form of my character would gain. I am not the insufferable, unmannerly, proud, slanderous man Herr Klotz proclaims me. It cost me a great deal of trouble and compulsion to be a little bitter against him."[153] Ramler and the rest had contrived a nice little society for mutual admiration, much like that described by Goldsmith, if, indeed, he did not convey it from the French, as was not uncommon with him. "'What, have you never heard of the admirable Brandellius or the ingenious Mogusius, one the eye and the other the heart of our University, known all over the world?' 'Never,' cried the traveller; 'but pray inform me what Brandellius is particularly remarkable for.' 'You must be little acquainted with the republic of letters,' said the other, 'to ask such a question. Brandellius has written a most sublime panegyric on Mogusius.' 'And, prithee, what has Mogusius done to deserve so great a favor?' 'He has written an excellent poem in praise of Brandellius.'" Lessing was not the man who could narrow himself to the proportions of a clique; lifelong he was the terror of the Brandellii and Mogusii, and, at the signal given by him, "They, but now who seemed In bigness to surpass Earth's giant sons, Now less than smallest dwarfs in narrow room Throng numberless." Besides whatever other reasons Leasing may have had for leaving Berlin, we fancy that his having exhausted whatever means it had of helping his spiritual growth was the chief. Nine years later, he gave as a reason for not wishing to stay long in Brunswick, "Not that I do not like Brunswick, but because nothing comes of being long in a place which one likes."[154] Whatever the reason, Leasing, in 1760, left Berlin for Breslau, where the post of secretary had been offered him under Frederick's tough old General Tauentzien. "I will spin myself in for a while like an ugly worm, that I may be able to come to light again as a brilliant winged creature," says his diary. Shortly after his leaving Berlin, he was chosen a member of the Academy of Sciences there. Herr Stahr, who has no little fondness for the foot-light style of phrase, says, "It may easily be imagined that he himself regarded his appointment as an insult rather than as an honor." Lessing himself merely says that it was a matter of indifference to him, which is much more in keeping with his character and with the value of the intended honor. The Seven Years' War began four years before Lessing took up his abode in Breslau, and it may be asked how he, as a Saxon, was affected by it. We might answer, hardly at all. His position was that of armed neutrality. Long ago at Leipzig he had been accused of Prussian leanings; now in Berlin he was thought too Saxon. Though he disclaimed any such sentiment as patriotism, and called himself a cosmopolite, it is plain enough that his position was simply that of a German. Love of country, except in a very narrow parochial way, was as impossible in Germany then as in America during the Colonial period. Lessing himself, in the latter years of his life, was librarian of one of those petty princelets who sold their subjects to be shot at in America,--creatures strong enough to oppress, too weak to protect their people. Whoever would have found a Germany to love must have pieced it together as painfully as Isis did the scattered bits of Osiris. Yet he says that "the true patriot is by no means extinguished" in him. It was the noisy ones that he could not abide; and, writing to Gleim about his "Grenadier" verses, he advises him to soften the tone of them a little, he himself being a "declared enemy of imprecations," which he would leave altogether to the clergy. We think Herr Stahr makes too much of these anti-patriot flings of Lessing, which, with a single exception, occur in his letters to Gleim, and with reference to a kind of verse that could not but be distasteful to him, as needing no more brains than a drum, nor other inspiration than serves a trumpet. Lessing undoubtedly had better uses for his breath than to spend it in shouting for either side in this "bloody lawsuit," as he called it, in which he was not concerned. He showed himself German enough, and in the right way, in his persistent warfare against the tyranny of French taste. He remained in Breslau the better part of five years, studying life in new phases, gathering a library, which, as commonly happens, he afterwards sold at great loss, and writing his _Minna_ and his _Laocoön_. He accompanied Tauentzien to the siege of Schweidnitz, where Frederick was present in person. He seems to have lived a rather free-and-easy life during his term of office, kept shockingly late hours, and learned, among other things, to gamble,--a fact for which Herr Stahr thinks it needful to account in a high philosophical fashion. We prefer to think that there are _some_ motives to which remarkable men are liable in common with the rest of mankind, and that they may occasionally do a thing merely because it is pleasant, without forethought of medicinal benefit to the mind. Lessing's friends (whose names were _not_, as the reader might be tempted to suppose, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar) expected him to make something handsome out of his office; but the pitiful result of those five years of opportunity was nothing more than an immortal book. Unthrifty Lessing, to have been so nice about your fingers, (and so near the mint, too,) when your general was wise enough to make his fortune! As if ink-stains were the only ones that would wash out, and no others had ever been covered with white kid from the sight of all reasonable men! In July, 1764, he had a violent fever, which he turned to account in his usual cheerful way: "The serious epoch of my life is drawing nigh. I am beginning to become a man, and flatter myself that in this burning fever I have raved away the last remains of my youthful follies. Fortunate illness!" He had never intended to bind himself to an official career. To his father he writes: "I have more than once declared that my present engagement could not continue long, that I have not given up my old plan of living, and that I am more than ever resolved to withdraw from any service that is not wholly to my mind. I have passed the middle of my life, and can think of nothing that could compel me to make myself a slave for the poor remainder of it. I write you this, dearest father, and must write you this, in order that you may not be astonished if, before long, you should see me once more very far removed from all hopes of, or claims to, a settled prosperity, as it is called." Before the middle of the next year he was back in Berlin again. There he remained for nearly two years, trying the house-top way of life again, but with indifferent success, as we have reason to think. Indeed, when the metaphor resolves itself into the plain fact of living just on the other side of the roof,--in the garret, namely,--and that from hand to mouth, as was Lessing's case, we need not be surprised to find him gradually beginning to see something more agreeable in a _fixirtes Glück_ than he had once been willing to allow. At any rate, he was willing, and even heartily desirous, that his friends should succeed in getting for him the place of royal librarian. But Frederick, for some unexplained reason, would not appoint him. Herr Stahr thinks it had something to do with the old _Siècle_ manuscript business. But this seems improbable, for Voltaire's wrath was not directed against Lessing; and even if it had been, the great king could hardly have carried the name of an obscure German author in his memory through all those anxious and war-like years. Whatever the cause, Lessing early in 1767 accepts the position of Theatrical Manager at Hamburg, as usual not too much vexed with disappointment, but quoting gayly "Quod non dant proceres, dabit histrio." Like Burns, he was always "contented wi' little and canty wi' mair." In connection with his place as Manager he was to write a series of dramatic essays and criticisms. It is to this we owe the _Dramaturgie_,--next to the _Laocoön_ the most valuable of his works. But Lessing--though it is plain that he made his hand as light as he could, and wrapped his lash in velvet--soon found that actors had no more taste for truth than authors. He was obliged to drop his remarks on the special merits or demerits of players, and to confine himself to those of the pieces represented. By this his work gained in value; and the latter part of it, written without reference to a particular stage, and devoted to the discussion of those general principles of dramatic art on which he had meditated long and deeply, is far weightier than the rest. There are few men who can put forth all their muscle in a losing race, and it is characteristic of Lessing that what he wrote under the dispiritment of failure should be the most lively and vigorous. Circumstances might be against him, but he was incapable of believing that a cause could be lost which had once enlisted his conviction. The theatrical enterprise did not prosper long; but Lessing had meanwhile involved himself as partner in a publishing business which harassed him while it lasted, and when it failed, as was inevitable, left him hampered with debt. Help came in his appointment (1770) to take charge of the Duke of Brunswick's library at Wolfenbüttel, with a salary of six hundred thalers a year. This was the more welcome, as he soon after was betrothed with Eva König, widow of a rich manufacturer.[155] Her husband's affairs, however, had been left in confusion, and this, with Lessing's own embarrassments, prevented their being married till October, 1776. Eva König was every way worthy of him. Clever, womanly, discreet, with just enough coyness of the will to be charming when it is joined with sweetness and good sense, she was the true helpmate of such a man,--the serious companion of his mind and the playfellow of his affections. There is something infinitely refreshing to me in the love-letters of these two persons. Without wanting sentiment, there is such a bracing air about them as breathes from the higher levels and strong-holds of the soul. They show that self-possession which can alone reserve to love the power of new self-surrender,--of never cloying, because never wholly possessed. Here is no invasion and conquest of the weaker nature by the stronger, but an equal league of souls, each in its own realm still sovereign. Turn from such letters as these to those of St. Preux and Julie, and you are stifled with the heavy perfume of a demirep's boudoir,--to those of Herder to his Caroline, and you sniff no doubtful odor of professional unction from the sermon-case. Manly old Dr. Johnson, who could be tender and true to a plain woman, knew very well what he meant when he wrote that single poetic sentence of his,--"The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him to be a native of the rocks." In January, 1778, Lessing's wife died from the effects of a difficult childbirth. The child, a boy, hardly survived its birth. The few words wrung out of Lessing by this double sorrow are to me as deeply moving as anything in tragedy. "I wished for once to be as happy (_es so gut haben_) as other men. But it has gone ill with me!" "And I was so loath to lose him, this son!" "My wife is dead; and I have had this experience also. I rejoice that I have not many more such experiences left to make, and am quite cheerful." "If you had known her! But they say that to praise one's wife is self-praise. Well, then, I say no more of her! But if you had known her!" _Quite cheerful!_ On the 10th of August he writes to Elise Reimarus,--he is writing to a woman now, an old friend of his and his wife, and will be less restrained: "I am left here all alone. I have not a single friend to whom I can wholly confide myself.... How often must I curse my ever wishing to be for once as happy as other men! How often have I wished myself back again in my old, isolated condition,--to be nothing, to wish nothing, to do nothing, but what the present moment brings with it!... Yet I am too proud to think myself unhappy. I just grind my teeth, and let the boat go as pleases wind and waves. Enough that I will not overset it myself." It is plain from this letter that suicide had been in his mind, and, with his antique way of thinking on many subjects, he would hardly have looked on it as a crime. But he was too brave a man to throw up the sponge to fate, and had work to do yet. Within a few days of his wife's death he wrote to Eschenburg: "I am right heartily ashamed if my letter betrayed the least despair. Despair is not nearly so much my failing as levity, which often expresses itself with a little bitterness and misanthropy." A stoic, not from insensibility or cowardice, as so many are, but from stoutness of heart, he blushes at a moment's abdication of self-command. And he will not roil the clear memory of his love with any tinge of the sentimentality so much the fashion, and to be had so cheap, in that generation. There is a moderation of sincerity peculiar to Lessing in the epithet of the following sentence: "How dearly must I pay for the single year I have lived with a _sensible_ wife!" Werther had then been published four years. Lessing's grief has that pathos which he praised in sculpture,--he may writhe, but he must not scream. Nor is this a new thing with him. On the death of a younger brother, he wrote to his father, fourteen years before: "Why should those who grieve communicate their grief to each other purposely to increase it?... Many mourn in death what they loved not living. I will love in life what nature bids me love, and after death strive to bewail it as little as I can." We think Herr Stahr is on his stilts again when he speaks of Lessing's position at Wolfenbüttel. He calls it an "assuming the chains of feudal service, being buried in a corner, a martyrdom that consumed the best powers of his mind and crushed him in body and spirit forever." To crush _forever_ is rather a strong phrase, Herr Stahr, to apply to the spirit, if one must ever give heed to the sense as well as the sound of what one is writing. But eloquence has no bowels for its victims. We have no doubt the Duke of Brunswick meant well by Lessing, and the salary he paid him was as large as he would have got from the frugal Frederick. But one whose trade it was to be a Duke could hardly have had much sympathy with his librarian after he had once found out what he really was. For even if he was not, as Herr Stahr affirms, a republican, and we doubt very much if he was, yet he was not a man who could play with ideas in the light French fashion. At the ardent touch of his sincerity, they took fire, and grew dangerous to what is called the social fabric. The logic of wit, with its momentary flash, is a very different thing from that consequent logic of thought, pushing forward its deliberate sap day and night with a fixed object, which belonged to Lessing. The men who attack abuses are not so much to be dreaded by the reigning house of Superstition as those who, as Dante says, syllogize hateful truths. As for "the chains of feudal service," they might serve a Fenian Head-Centre on a pinch, but are wholly out of place here. The slavery that Lessing had really taken on him was that of a great library, an Alcina that could always too easily witch him away from the more serious duty of his genius. That a mind like his could be buried in a corner is mere twaddle, and of a kind that has done great wrong to the dignity of letters. Where-ever Lessing sat, was the head of the table. That he suffered at Wolfenbüttel is true; but was it nothing to be in love and in debt at the same time, and to feel that his fruition of the one must be postponed for uncertain years by his own folly in incurring the other? If the sparrow-life must end, surely a wee bush is better than nae beild. One cause of Lessing's occasional restlessness and discontent Herr Stahr has failed to notice. It is evident from many passages in his letters that he had his share of the hypochondria which goes with an imaginative temperament. But in him it only serves to bring out in stronger relief his deep-rooted manliness. He spent no breath in that melodious whining which, beginning with Rousseau, has hardly yet gone out of fashion. Work of some kind was his medicine for the blues,--if not always of the kind he would have chosen, then the best that was to be had; for the useful, too, had for him a sweetness of its own. Sometimes he found a congenial labor in rescuing, as he called it, the memory of some dead scholar or thinker from the wrongs of ignorance or prejudice or falsehood; sometimes in fishing a manuscript out of the ooze of oblivion, and giving it, after a critical cleansing, to the world. Now and then he warmed himself and kept his muscle in trim with buffeting soundly the champions of that shallow artificiality and unctuous wordiness, one of which passed for orthodox in literature, and the other in theology. True religion and creative genius were both so beautiful to him that he could never abide the mediocre counterfeit of either, and he who put so much of his own life into all he wrote could not but hold all scripture sacred in which a divine soul had recorded itself. It would be doing Lessing great wrong to confound his controversial writing with the paltry quarrels of authors. His own personal relations enter into them surprisingly little, for his quarrel was never with men, but with falsehood, cant, and misleading tradition, in whomsoever incarnated. Save for this, they were no longer readable, and might be relegated to that herbarium of Billingsgate gathered by the elder Disraeli. So far from being "crushed in spirit" at Wolfenbüttel, the years he spent there were among the most productive of his life. "Emilia Galotti," begun in 1758, was finished there and published in 1771. The controversy with Götze, by far the most important he was engaged in, and the one in which he put forth his maturest powers, was carried on thence. His "Nathan the Wise" (1779), by which almost alone he is known as a poet outside of Germany, was conceived and composed there. The last few years of his life were darkened by ill-health and the depression which it brings. His Nathan had not the success he hoped. It is sad to see the strong, self-sufficing man casting about for a little sympathy, even for a little praise. "It is really needful to me that you should have some small good opinion of it [Nathan], in order to make me once more contented with myself," he writes to Elise Reimarus in May, 1779. That he was weary of polemics, and dissatisfied with himself for letting them distract him from better things, appears from his last pathetic letter to the old friend he loved and valued most,--Mendelssohn. "And in truth, dear friend, I sorely need a letter like yours from time to time, if I am not to become wholly out of humor. I think you do not know me as a man that has a very hot hunger for praise. But the coldness with which the world is wont to convince certain people that they do not suit it, if not deadly, yet stiffens one with chill. I am not astonished that _all_ I have written lately does not please _you_.... At best, a passage here and there may have cheated you by recalling our better days. I, too, was then a sound, slim sapling, and am now such a rotten, gnarled trunk!" This was written on the 19th of December, 1780; and on the 15th of February, 1781, Lessing died, not quite fifty-two years old. Goethe was then in his thirty-second year, and Schiller ten years younger. * * * * * Of Lessing's relation to metaphysics the reader will find ample discussion in Herr Stahr's volumes. We are not particularly concerned with them, because his interest in such questions was purely speculative, and because he was more concerned to exercise the powers of his mind than to analyze them. His chief business, his master impulse always, was to be a man of letters in the narrower sense of the term. Even into theology he only made occasional raids across the border, as it were, and that not so much with a purpose of reform as in defence of principles which applied equally to the whole domain of thought. He had even less sympathy with heterodoxy than with orthodoxy, and, so far from joining a party or wishing to form one, would have left belief a matter of choice to the individual conscience. "From the bottom of my heart I hate all those people who wish to found sects. For it is not error, but sectarian error, yes, even sectarian truth, that makes men unhappy, or would do so if truth would found a sect."[156] Again he says, that in his theological controversies he is "much less concerned about theology than about sound common-sense, and only therefore prefer the old orthodox (at bottom _tolerant_) theology to the new (at bottom _intolerant_), because the former openly conflicts with sound common-sense, while the latter would fain corrupt it. I reconcile myself with my open enemies in order the better to be on my guard against my secret ones."[157] At another time he tells his brother that he has a wholly false notion of his (Lessing's) relation to orthodoxy. "Do you suppose I grudge the world that anybody should seek to enlighten it?--that I do not heartily wish that every one should think rationally about religion? I should loathe myself if even in my scribblings I had any other end than to help forward those great views. But let me choose my own way, which I think best for this purpose. And what is simpler than this way? I would not have the impure water, which has long been unfit to use, preserved; but I would not have it thrown away before we know whence to get purer.... Orthodoxy, thank God, we were pretty well done with; a partition-wall had been built between it and Philosophy, behind which each could go her own way without troubling the other. But what are they doing now? They are tearing down this wall, and, under the pretext of making us rational Christians, are making us very irrational philosophers.... We are agreed that our old religious system is false; but I cannot say with you that it is a patchwork of bunglers and half-philosophers. I know nothing in the world in which human acuteness has been more displayed or exercised than in that."[158] Lessing was always for freedom, never for looseness, of thought, still less for laxity of principle. But it must be a real freedom, and not that vain struggle to become a majority, which, if it succeed, escapes from heresy only to make heretics of the other side. _Abire ad plures_ would with him have meant, not bodily but spiritual death. He did not love the fanaticism of innovation a whit better than that of conservatism. To his sane understanding, both were equally hateful, as different masks of the same selfish bully. Coleridge said that toleration was impossible till indifference made it worthless. Lessing did not wish for toleration, because that implies authority, nor could his earnest temper have conceived of indifference. But he thought it as absurd to regulate opinion as the color of the hair. Here, too, he would have agreed with Selden, that "it is a vain thing to talk of an heretic, for a man for his heart cannot think any otherwise than he does think." Herr Stahr's chapters on this point, bating a little exaltation of tone, are very satisfactory; though, in his desire to make a leader of Lessing, he almost represents him as being what he shunned,--the founder of a sect. The fact is, that Lessing only formulated in his own way a general movement of thought, and what mainly interests us is that in him we see a layman, alike indifferent to clerisy and heresy, giving energetic and pointed utterance to those opinions of his class which the clergy are content to ignore so long as they remain esoteric. At present the world has advanced to where Lessing stood, while the Church has done its best to stand stock-still; and it would be a curious were it not a melancholy spectacle, to see the indifference with which the laity look on while theologians thrash their wheatless straw, utterly unconscious that there is no longer any common term possible that could bring their creeds again to any point of bearing on the practical life of men. Fielding never made a profounder stroke of satire than in Squire Western's indignant "Art not in the pulpit now! When art got up there, I never mind what dost say." As an author, Lessing began his career at a period when we cannot say that German literature was at its lowest ebb, only because there had not yet been any flood-tide. That may be said to have begun with him. When we say German literature, we mean so much of it as has any interest outside of Germany. That part of the literary histories which treats of the dead waste and middle of the eighteenth century reads like a collection of obituaries, and were better reduced to the conciseness of epitaph, though the authors of them seem to find a melancholy pleasure, much like that of undertakers, in the task by which they live. Gottsched reigned supreme on the legitimate throne of dulness. In Switzerland, Bodmer essayed a more republican form of the same authority. At that time a traveller reports eight hundred authors in Zürich alone! Young aspirant for lettered fame, in imagination clear away the lichens from their forgotten headstones, and read humbly the "As I am, so thou must be," on all! Everybody remembers how Goethe, in the seventh book of his autobiography, tells the story of his visit to Gottsched. He enters by mistake an inner room at the moment when a frightened servant brings the discrowned potentate a periwig large enough to reach to the elbows. That awful emblem of pretentious sham seems to be the best type of the literature then predominant. We always fancy it set upon a pole, like Gessler's hat, with nothing in it that was not wooden, for all men to bow down before. The periwig style had its natural place in the age of Louis XIV., and there were certainly brains under it. But it had run out in France, as the tie-wig style of Pope had in England. In Germany it was the mere imitation of an imitation. Will it be believed that Gottsched recommends his Art of Poetry to beginners, in preference to Breitinger's, because it "_will enable them to produce every species of poem in a correct style_, while out of that no one can learn to make an ode or a cantata"? "Whoever," he says, "buys Breitinger's book _in order to learn how to make poems_, will too late regret his money."[159] Gottsched, perhaps, did some service even by his advocacy of French models, by calling attention to the fact that there _was_ such a thing as style, and that it was of some consequence. But not one of the authors of that time can be said to survive, nor to be known even by name except to Germans, unless it be Klopstock, Herder, Wieland, and Gellert. And the latter's immortality, such as it is, reminds us somewhat of that Lady Gosling's, whose obituary stated that she was "mentioned by Mrs. Barbauld in her Life of Richardson 'under the name of Miss M., afterwards Lady G.'" Klopstock himself is rather remembered for what he was than what he is,--an immortality of unreadableness; and we much doubt if many Germans put the "Oberon" in their trunks when they start on a journey. Herder alone survives, if not as a contributor to literature, strictly so called, yet as a thinker and as part of the intellectual impulse of the day. But at the time, though there were two parties, yet within the lines of each there was a loyal reciprocity of what is called on such occasions appreciation. Wig ducked to wig, each blockhead had a brother, and there was a universal apotheosis of the mediocrity of our set. If the greatest happiness of the greatest number be the true theory, this was all that could be desired. Even Lessing at one time looked up to Hagedorn as the German Horace. If Hagedorn were pleased, what mattered it to Horace? Worse almost than this was the universal pedantry. The solemn bray of one pedagogue was taken up and prolonged in a thousand echoes. There was not only no originality, but no desire for it,--perhaps even a dread of it, as something that would break the _entente cordiale_ of placid mutual assurance. No great writer had given that tone of good-breeding to the language which would gain it entrance to the society of European literature. No man of genius had made it a necessity of polite culture. It was still as rudely provincial as the Scotch of Allan Ramsay. Frederick the Great was to be forgiven if, with his practical turn, he gave himself wholly to French, which had replaced Latin as a cosmopolitan tongue. It had lightness, ease, fluency, elegance,--in short, all the good qualities that German lacked. The study of French models was perhaps the best thing for German literature before it got out of long-clothes. It was bad only when it became a tradition and a tyranny. Lessing did more than any other man to overthrow this foreign usurpation when it had done its work. The same battle had to be fought on English soil also, and indeed is hardly over yet. For the renewed outbreak of the old quarrel between Classical and Romantic grew out of nothing more than an attempt of the modern spirit to free itself from laws of taste laid down by the _Grand Siècle_. But we must not forget the debt which all modern prose literature owes to France. It is true that Machiavelli was the first to write with classic pith and point in a living language; but he is, for all that, properly an ancient. Montaigne is really the first modern writer,--the first who assimilated his Greek and Latin, and showed that an author might be original and charming, even classical, if he did not try too hard. He is also the first modern critic, and his judgments of the writers of antiquity are those of an equal. He made the ancients his servants, to help him think in Gascon French; and, in spite of his endless quotations, began the crusade against pedantry. It was not, however, till a century later, that the reform became complete in France, and then crossed the Channel. Milton is still a pedant in his prose, and not seldom even in his great poem. Dryden was the first Englishman who wrote perfectly easy prose, and he owed his style and turn of thought to his French reading. His learning sits easily on him, and has a modern cut. So far, the French influence was one of unmixed good, for it rescued us from pedantry. It must have done something for Germany in the same direction. For its effect on poetry we cannot say as much; and its traditions had themselves become pedantry in another shape when Lessing made an end of it. He himself certainly learned to write prose of Diderot; and whatever Herr Stahr may think of it, his share in the "Letters on German Literature" got its chief inspiration from France. It is in the _Dramaturgie_ that Lessing first properly enters as an influence into European literature. He may be said to have begun the revolt from pseudo-classicism in poetry, and to have been thus unconsciously the founder of romanticism. Wieland's translation of Shakespeare had, it is true, appeared in 1762; but Lessing was the first critic whose profound knowledge of the Greek drama and apprehension of its principles gave weight to his judgment, who recognized in what the true greatness of the poet consisted, and found him to be really nearer the Greeks than any other modern. This was because Lessing looked always more to the life than the form,--because he knew the classics, and did not merely cant about them. But if the authority of Lessing, by making people feel easy in their admiration for Shakespeare, perhaps increased the influence of his works, and if his discussions of Aristotle have given a new starting-point to modern criticism, it may be doubted whether the immediate effect on literature of his own critical essays was so great as Herr Stahr supposes. Surely "Götz" and "The Robbers" are nothing like what he would have called Shakespearian, and the whole _Sturm und Drang_ tendency would have roused in him nothing but antipathy. Fixed principles in criticism are useful in helping us to form a judgment of works already produced, but it is questionable whether they are not rather a hindrance than a help to living production. Ben Jonson was a fine critic, intimate with the classics as few men have either the leisure or the strength of mind to be in this age of many books, and built regular plays long before they were heard of in France. But he continually trips and falls flat over his metewand of classical propriety, his personages are abstractions, and fortunately neither his precepts nor his practice influenced any one of his greater coevals.[160] In breadth of understanding, and the gravity of purpose that comes of it, he was far above Fletcher or Webster, but how far below either in the subtler, the incalculable, qualities of a dramatic poet! Yet Ben, with his principles off, could soar and sing with the best of them; and there are strains in his lyrics which Herrick, the most Catullian of poets since Catullus, could imitate, but never match. A constant reference to the statutes which taste has codified would only bewilder the creative instinct. Criticism can at best teach writers without genius what is to be avoided or imitated. It cannot communicate life; and its effect, when reduced to rules, has commonly been to produce that correctness which is so praiseworthy and so intolerable. It cannot give taste, it can only demonstrate who has had it. Lessing's essays in this kind were of service to German literature by their manliness of style, whose example was worth a hundred treatises, and by the stimulus there is in all original thinking. Could he have written such a poem as he was capable of conceiving, his influence would have been far greater. It is the living soul, and not the metaphysical abstraction of it, that is genetic in literature. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to be done! It was out of his own failures to reach the ideal he saw so clearly, that Lessing drew the wisdom which made him so admirable a critic. Even here, too, genius can profit by no experience but its own. For, in spite of Herr Stahr's protest, we must acknowledge the truth of Lessing's own characteristic confession, that he was no poet. A man of genius he unquestionably was, if genius may be claimed no less for force than fineness of mind,--for the intensity of conviction that inspires the understanding as much as for that apprehension of beauty which gives energy of will to imagination,--but a poetic genius he was not. His mind kindled by friction in the process of thinking, not in the flash of conception, and its delight is in demonstration, not in bodying forth. His prose can leap and run, his verse is always thinking of its feet. Yet in his "Minna" and his "Emilia"[161] he shows one faculty of the dramatist, that of construction, in a higher degree than any other German.[162] Here his critical deductions served him to some purpose. The action moves rapidly, there is no speechifying, and the parts are coherent. Both plays act better than anything of Goethe or Schiller. But it is the story that interests us, and not the characters. These are not, it is true, the incorporation of certain ideas, or, still worse, of certain dogmas, but they certainly seem something like machines by which the motive of the play is carried on; and there is nothing of that interplay of plot and character which makes Shakespeare more real in the closet than other dramatists with all the helps of the theatre. It is a striking illustration at once of the futility of mere critical insight and of Lessing's want of imagination, that in the Emilia he should have thought a Roman motive consistent with modern habits of thought, and that in Nathan he should have been guilty of anachronisms which violate not only the accidental truth of fact, but the essential truth of character. Even if we allowed him imagination, it must be only on the lower plane of prose; for of verse as anything more than so many metrical feet he had not the faintest notion. Of that exquisite sympathy with the movement of the mind, with every swifter or slower pulse of passion, which proves it another species from prose, the very [Greek: aphroditae kai lura] of speech, and not merely a higher one, he wanted the fineness of sense to conceive. If we compare the prose of Dante or Milton, though both were eloquent, with their verse, we see at once which was the most congenial to them. Lessing has passages of freer and more harmonious utterance in some of his most careless prose essays, than can be found in his Nathan from the first line to the last. In the _numeris lege solutis_ he is often snatched beyond himself, and becomes truly dithyrambic; in his pentameters the march of the thought is comparatively hampered and irresolute. His best things are not poetically delicate, but have the tougher fibre of proverbs. Is it not enough, then, to be a great prose-writer? They are as rare as great poets, and if Lessing have the gift to stir and to dilate that something deeper than the mind which genius only can reach, what matter if it be not done to music? Of his minor poems we need say little. Verse was always more or less mechanical with him, and his epigrams are almost all stiff, as if they were bad translations from the Latin. Many of them are shockingly coarse, and in liveliness are on a level with those of our Elizabethan period. Herr Stahr, of course, cannot bear to give them up, even though Gervinus be willing. The prettiest of his shorter poems (_Die Namen_)has been appropriated by Coleridge, who has given it a grace which it wants in the original. His Nathan, by a poor translation of which he is chiefly known to English readers, is an Essay on Toleration in the form of a dialogue. As a play, it has not the interest of Minna or Emilia, though the Germans, who have a praiseworthy national stoicism where one of their great writers is concerned, find in seeing it represented a grave satisfaction, like that of subscribing to a monument. There is a sober lustre of reflection in it that makes it very good reading; but it wants the molten interfusion of thought and phrase which only imagination can achieve. As Lessing's mind was continually advancing,--always open to new impressions, and capable, as very few are, of apprehending the many-sidedness of truth,--as he had the rare quality of being honest with himself,--his works seem fragmentary, and give at first an impression of incompleteness. But one learns at length to recognize and value this very incompleteness as characteristic of the man who was growing lifelong, and to whom the selfish thought that any share of truth could be exclusively _his_ was an impossibility. At the end of the ninety-fifth number of the _Dramaturgie_ he says: "I remind my readers here, that these pages are by no means intended to contain a dramatic system. I am accordingly not bound to solve all the difficulties which I raise. I am quite willing that my thoughts should seem to want connection,--nay, even to contradict each other,--if only there are thoughts in which they [my readers] find material for thinking themselves. I wish to do nothing more than scatter the _fermenta cognitionis_." That is Lessing's great praise, and gives its chief value to his works,--a value, indeed, imperishable, and of the noblest kind. No writer can leave a more precious legacy to posterity than this; and beside this shining merit, all mere literary splendors look pale and cold. There is that life in Lessing's thought which engenders life, and not only thinks for us, but makes us think. Not sceptical, but forever testing and inquiring, it is out of the cloud of his own doubt that the flash comes at last with sudden and vivid illumination. Flashes they indeed are, his finest intuitions, and of very different quality from the equable north-light of the artist. He felt it, and said it of himself, "Ever so many flashes of lightning do not make daylight." We speak now of those more rememberable passages where his highest individuality reveals itself in what may truly be called a passion of thought. In the "Laocoön" there is daylight of the serenest temper, and never was there a better example of the discourse of reason, though even that is also a fragment. But it is as a nobly original man, even more than as an original thinker, that Lessing is precious to us, and that he is so considerable in German literature. In a higher sense, but in the same kind, he is to Germans what Dr. Johnson is to us,--admirable for what he was. Like Johnson's, too, but still from a loftier plane, a great deal of his thought has a direct bearing on the immediate life and interests of men. His genius was not a St. Elmo's fire, as it so often is with mere poets,--as it was in Shelley, for example, playing in ineffectual flame about the points of his thought,--but was interfused with his whole nature and made a part of his very being. To the Germans, with their weak nerve of sentimentalism, his brave common-sense is a far wholesomer tonic than the cynicism of Heine, which is, after all, only sentimentalism soured. His jealousy for maintaining the just boundaries whether of art or speculation may warn them to check with timely dikes the tendency of their thought to diffuse inundation. Their fondness in aesthetic discussion for a nomenclature subtile enough to split a hair at which even a Thomist would have despaired, is rebuked by the clear simplicity of his style.[163] But he is no exclusive property of Germany. As a complete man, constant, generous, full of honest courage, as a hardy follower of Thought wherever she might lead him, above all, as a confessor of that Truth which is forever revealing itself to the seeker, and is the more loved because never wholly revealable, he is an ennobling possession of mankind. Let his own striking words characterize him:-- "Not the truth of which any one is, or supposes himself to be, possessed, but the upright endeavor he has made to arrive at truth, makes the worth of the man. For not by the possession, but by the investigation, of truth are his powers expanded, wherein alone his ever-growing perfection consists. Possession makes us easy, indolent, proud. "If God held all truth shut in his right hand, and in his left nothing but the ever-restless instinct for truth, though with the condition of for ever and ever erring, and should say to me, Choose! I should bow humbly to his left hand, and say, Father, give! pure truth is for Thee alone!" It is not without reason that fame is awarded only after death. The dust-cloud of notoriety which follows and envelopes the men who drive with the wind bewilders contemporary judgment. Lessing, while he lived, had little reward for his labor but the satisfaction inherent in all work faithfully done; the highest, no doubt, of which human nature is capable, and yet perhaps not so sweet as that sympathy of which the world's praise is but an index. But if to perpetuate herself beyond the grave in healthy and ennobling influences be the noblest aspiration of the mind, and its fruition the only reward she would have deemed worthy of herself, then is Lessing to be counted thrice fortunate. Every year since he was laid prematurely in the earth has seen his power for good increase, and made him more precious to the hearts and intellects of men. "Lessing," said Goethe, "would have declined the lofty title of a Genius; but his enduring influence testifies against himself. On the other hand, we have in literature other and indeed important names of men who, while they lived, were esteemed great geniuses, but whose influence ended with their lives, and who, accordingly, were less than they and others thought. For, as I have said, there is no genius without a productive power that continues forever operative."[164] Footnotes: [147] G. E. Lessing. _Sein Leben und seine Werke_. Von Adolf Stahr. Vermehrte und verbesserte Volks-Ausgabe. Dritte Auflage Berlin. 1864. _The Same_. Translated by E. P. Evans, Ph. D., Professor, &c. in the University of Michigan. Boston: W. V. Spencer. 1866. 2 vols. G. E. Lessing's Sämmtliche Schriften, herausgegeben von Karl Lachmann. 1853-57. 12 Bände. [148] "If I write at all, it is not possible for me to write otherwise than just as I think and feel."--Lessing to his father, 21st December, 1767. [149] "I am sure that Kleist would rather have taken another wound with him into his grave than have such stuff jabbered over him (_sich solch Zeug nachschwatzen lassen_)." Lessing to Gleim, 6th September 1759. [150] Letter to Klotz, 9th June, 1766. [151] Herr Stahr heads the fifth chapter of his Second Book, "Lessing at Wittenberg. December, 1751, to November, 1752." But we never feel quite sure of his dates. The Richier affair puts Lessing in Berlin in December, 1751, and he took his Master's degree at Wittenberg, 29th April, 1752. We are told that he finally left Wittenberg "toward the end" of that year. He himself, writing from Berlin in 1754, says that he has been absent from that city _nur ein halbes Jahr_ since 1748. There is only one letter for 1762, dated at Wittenberg, 9th June. [152] "Ramler," writes Georg Forster, "ist die Ziererei, die Eigenliebe die Eitelkeit in eigener Person." [153] Lessing to Von Murr, 25th November, 1768. The whole letter is well worth reading. [154] A favorite phrase of his, which Egbert has preserved for us with its Saxon accent, was, _Es kommt doch nischt dabey heraus_, implying that one might do something better for a constancy than shearing twine. [155] I find surprisingly little about Lessing in such of the contemporary correspondence of German literary men as I have read. A letter of Boie to Merck (10 April, 1775) gives us a glimpse of him. "Do you know that Lessing will probably marry Reiske's widow and come to Dresden in place of Hagedorn? The restless spirit! How he will get along with the artists, half of them, too, Italians, is to be seen.... Liffert and he have met and parted good friends. He has worn ever since on his finger the ring with the skeleton and butterfly which Liffert gave him. He is reported to be much dissatisfied with the theatrical filibustering of Goethe and Lenz, especially with the remarks on the drama in which so little respect is shown for his Aristotle, and the Leipzig folks are said to be greatly rejoiced at getting such an ally." [156] To his brother Karl, 20th April, 1774. [157] To the same, 20th March, 1777. [158] To the same, 2d February, 1774. [159] Gervinus, IV. 62. [160] It should be considered, by those sagacious persons who think that the most marvellous intellect of which we have any record could not master so much Latin and Greek as would serve a sophomore, that Shakespeare must through conversation have possessed himself of whatever principles of art Ben Jonson and the other university men had been able to deduce from their study of the classics. That they should not have discussed these matters over their sack at the Mermaid is incredible; that Shakespeare, who left not a drop in any orange he squeezed, could not also have got all the juice out of this one, is even more so. [161] In "Minna" and "Emilia" Lessing followed the lead of Diderot. In the Preface to the second edition of Diderot's _Théâtre_, he says: "I am very conscious that my taste, without Diderot's example and teaching, would have taken quite another direction. Perhaps one more my own, yet hardly one with which my understanding would in the long run have been so well content." Diderot's choice of prose was dictated and justified by the accentual poverty of his mother-tongue, Lessing certainly revised his judgment on this point (for it was not equally applicable to German), and wrote his maturer "Nathan" in what he took for blank verse. There was much kindred between the minds of the two men. Diderot always seems to us a kind of deboshed Lessing. Lessing was also indebted to Burke, Hume, the two Wartons, and Hurd, among other English writers. Not that he borrowed anything of them but the quickening of his own thought. It should be remembered that Rousseau was seventeen, Diderot and Sterne sixteen, and Winckelmann twelve years older than Lessing. Wieland was four years younger. [162] Goethe's appreciation of Lessing grew with his years. He writes to Lavater, 18th March, 1781: "Lessing's death has greatly depressed me. I had much pleasure in him and much hope of him." This is a little patronizing in tone. But in the last year of his life, talking with Eckermann, he naturally antedates his admiration, as reminiscence is wont to do: "You can conceive what an effect this piece (_Minna_)had upon us young people. It was, in fact, a shining meteor. It made us aware that something higher existed than anything whereof that feeble literary epoch had a notion. The first two acts are truly a masterpiece of exposition, from which one learned much and can always learn." [163] Nothing can be droller than the occasional translation by Vischer of a sentence of Lessing into his own jargon. [164] Eckermann, Gespräche mit Goethe, III. 229. ROUSSEAU AND THE SENTIMENTALISTS.[165] "We have had the great professor and founder of the philosophy of Vanity in England. As I had good opportunities of knowing his proceedings almost from day to day, he left no doubt in my mind that he entertained no principle either to influence his heart or to guide his understanding but vanity; with this vice he was possessed to a degree little short of madness. Benevolence to the whole species, and want of feeling for every individual with whom the professors come in contact, form the character of the new philosophy. Setting up for an unsocial independence, this their hero of vanity refuses the just price of common labor, as well as the tribute which opulence owes to genius, and which, when paid, honors the giver and the receiver, and then pleads his beggary as an excuse for his crimes. He melts with tenderness for those only who touch him by the remotest relation, and then, without one natural pang, casts away, as a sort of offal and excrement, the spawn of his disgustful amours, and sends his children to the hospital of foundlings. The bear loves, licks, and forms her young, but bears are not philosophers." This was Burke's opinion of the only contemporary who can be said to rival him in fervid and sustained eloquence, to surpass him in grace and persuasiveness of style. Perhaps we should have been more thankful to him if he had left us instead a record of those "proceedings almost from day to day" which he had such "good opportunities of knowing," but it probably never entered his head that posterity might care as much about the doings of the citizen of Geneva as about the sayings of even a British Right Honorable. Vanity eludes recognition by its victims in more shapes, and more pleasing, than any other passion, and perhaps had Mr. Burke been able imaginatively to translate Swiss Jean Jacques into Irish Edmund, he would have found no juster equivalent for the obnoxious trisyllable than "righteous self-esteem." For Burke was himself also, in the subtler sense of the word, a sentimentalist, that is, a man who took what would now be called an aesthetic view of morals and politics. No man who ever wrote English, except perhaps Mr. Ruskin, more habitually mistook his own personal likes and dislikes, tastes and distastes, for general principles, and this, it may be suspected, is the secret of all merely eloquent writing. He hints at madness as an explanation of Rousseau, and it is curious enough that Mr. Buckle was fain to explain _him_ in the same way. It is not, we confess, a solution that we find very satisfactory in this latter case. Burke's fury against the French Revolution was nothing more than was natural to a desperate man in self-defence. It was his own life, or, at least, all that made life dear to him, that was in danger. He had all that abstract political wisdom which may be naturally secreted by a magnanimous nature and a sensitive temperament, absolutely none of that rough-and-tumble kind which is so needful for the conduct of affairs. Fastidiousness is only another form of egotism; and all men who know not where to look for truth save in the narrow well of self will find their own image at the bottom, and mistake it for what they are seeking. Burke's hatred of Rousseau was genuine and instinctive. It was so genuine and so instinctive as no hatred can be but that of self, of our own weaknesses as we see them in another man. But there was also something deeper in it than this. There was mixed with it the natural dread in the political diviner of the political logician,--in the empirical, of the theoretic statesman. Burke, confounding the idea of society with the form of it then existing, would have preserved that as the only specific against anarchy. Rousseau, assuming that society as it then existed was but another name for anarchy, would have reconstituted it on an ideal basis. The one has left behind him some of the profoundest aphorisms of political wisdom; the other, some of the clearest principles of political science. The one, clinging to Divine right, found in the fact that things were, a reason that they ought to be; the other, aiming to solve the problem of the Divine order, would deduce from that abstraction alone the claim of anything to be at all. There seems a mere oppugnancy of nature between the two, and yet both were, in different ways, the dupes of their own imaginations. Now let us hear the opinion of a philosopher who _was_ a bear, whether bears be philosophers or not. Boswell had a genuine relish for what was superior in any way, from genius to claret, and of course he did not let Rousseau escape him. "One evening at the Mitre, Johnson said sarcastically to me, 'It seems, sir, you have kept very good company abroad,--Rousseau and Wilkes!' I answered with a smile, 'My dear sir, you don't call Rousseau bad company; do you really think _him_ a bad man?' Johnson: 'Sir, if you are talking jestingly of this, I don't talk with you. If you mean to be serious, I think him one of the worst of men, a rascal who ought to be hunted out of society, as he has been. Three or four nations have expelled him, and it is a shame that he is protected in this country. Rousseau, sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to have him work in the plantations.'" _We_ were the plantations then, and Rousseau was destined to work there in another and much more wonderful fashion than the gruff old Ursa Major imagined. However, there is always a refreshing heartiness in his growl, a masculine bass with no snarl in it. The Doctor's logic is of that fine old crusted Port sort, the native manufacture of the British conservative mind. Three or four nations _have_, therefore England ought. A few years later, had the Doctor been living, if three or four nations had treated their kings as France did hers, would he have thought the _ergo_ a very stringent one for England? Mr. Burke, who could speak with studied respect of the Prince of Wales, and of his vices with that charity which thinketh no evil and can afford to think no evil of so important a living member of the British Constitution, surely could have had no unmixed moral repugnance for Rousseau's "disgustful amours." It was because they were _his_ that they were so loathsome. Mr. Burke was a snob, though an inspired one. Dr. Johnson, the friend of that wretchedest of lewd fellows, Richard Savage, and of that gay man about town, Topham Beauclerk,--himself sprung from an amour that would have been disgustful had it not been royal,--must also have felt something more in respect of Rousseau than the mere repugnance of virtue for vice. We must sometimes allow to personal temperament its right of peremptory challenge. Johnson had not that fine sensitiveness to the political atmosphere which made Burke presageful of coming tempest, but both of them felt that there was something dangerous in this man. Their dislike has in it somewhat of the energy of fear. Neither of them had the same feeling toward Voltaire, the man of supreme talent, but both felt that what Rousseau was possessed by was genius, with its terrible force either to attract or repel. "By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes." Burke and Johnson were both of them sincere men, both of them men of character as well as of intellectual force; and we cite their opinions of Rousseau with the respect which is due to an honest conviction which has apparent grounds for its adoption, whether we agree with it or no. But it strikes us as a little singular that one whose life was so full of moral inconsistency, whose character is so contemptible in many ways, in some we might almost say so revolting, should yet have exercised so deep and lasting an influence, and on minds so various, should still be an object of minute and earnest discussion,--that he should have had such vigor in his intellectual loins as to have been the father of Châteaubriand, Byron, Lamartine, George Sand, and many more in literature, in politics of Jefferson and Thomas Paine,--that the spots he had haunted should draw pilgrims so unlike as Gibbon and Napoleon, nay, should draw them still, after the lapse of near a century. Surely there must have been a basis of sincerity in this man seldom matched, if it can prevail against so many reasons for repugnance, aversion, and even disgust. He could not have been the mere sentimentalist and rhetorician for which the rough-and-ready understanding would at first glance be inclined to condemn him. In a certain sense he was both of these, but he was something more. It will bring us a little nearer the point we are aiming at if we quote one other and more recent English opinion of him. Mr. Thomas Moore, returning pleasantly in a travelling-carriage from a trip to Italy, in which he had never forgotten the poetical shop at home, but had carefully noted down all the pretty images that occurred to him for future use,--Mr. Thomas Moore, on his way back from a visit to his noble friend Byron, at Venice, who had there been leading a life so gross as to be talked about, even amid the crash of Napoleon's fall, and who was just writing "Don Juan" for the improvement of the world,--Mr. Thomas Moore, fresh from the reading of Byron's Memoirs, which were so scandalous that, by some hocus-pocus, three thousand guineas afterward found their way into his own pocket for consenting to suppress them,--Mr. Thomas Moore, the _ci-devant_ friend of the Prince Regent, and the author of Little's Poems, among other objects of pilgrimage visits _Les Charmettes_, where Rousseau had lived with Madame de Warens. So good an opportunity for occasional verses was not to be lost, so good a text for a little virtuous moralizing not to be thrown away; and accordingly Mr. Moore pours out several pages of octosyllabic disgust at the sensuality of the dead man of genius. There was no horror for Byron. Toward him all was suavity and decorous _bienséance_. That lively sense of benefits to be received made the Irish Anacreon wink with both his little eyes. In the judgment of a liberal like Mr. Moore, were not the errors of a lord excusable? But with poor Rousseau the case was very different. The son of a watchmaker, an outcast from boyhood up, always on the perilous edge of poverty,--what right had he to indulge himself in any immoralities? So it is always with the sentimentalists. It is never the thing in itself that is bad or good, but the thing in its relation to some conventional and mostly selfish standard. Moore could be a moralist, in this case, without any trouble, and with the advantage of winning Lord Lansdowne's approval; he could write some graceful verses which everybody would buy, and for the rest it is not hard to be a stoic in eight-syllable measure and a travelling-carriage. The next dinner at Bowood will taste none the worse. Accordingly he speaks of "The mire, the strife And vanities of this man's life, Who more than all that e'er have glowed With fancy's flame (and it was his In fullest warmth and radiance) showed What an impostor Genius is; How, with that strong mimetic art Which forms its life and soul, it takes All shapes of thought, all hues of heart, Nor feels itself one throb it wakes; How, like a gem, its light may shine, O'er the dark path by mortals trod, Itself as mean a worm the while As crawls at midnight o'er the sod; * * * * * How, with the pencil hardly dry From coloring up such scenes of love And beauty as make young hearts sigh, And dream and think through heaven they rove," &c., &c. Very spirited, is it not? One has only to overlook a little threadbareness in the similes, and it is very good oratorical verse. But would we believe in it, we must never read Mr. Moore's own journal, and find out how thin a piece of veneering his own life was,--how he lived in sham till his very nature had become subdued to it, till he could persuade himself that a sham could be written into a reality, and actually made experiment thereof in his Diary. One verse in this diatribe deserves a special comment,-- "What an impostor Genius is!" In two respects there is nothing to be objected to in it. It is of eight syllables, and "is" rhymes unexceptionably with "his." But is there the least filament of truth in it? We venture to assert, not the least. It was not Rousseau's genius that was an impostor. It was the one thing in him that was always true. We grant that, in allowing that a man has genius. Talent is that which is in a man's power; genius is that in whose power a man is. That is the very difference between them. We might turn the tables on Moore, the man of talent, and say truly enough, What an impostor talent is! Moore talks of the mimetic power with a total misapprehension of what it really is. The mimetic power had nothing whatever to do with the affair. Rousseau had none of it; Shakespeare had it in excess; but what difference would it make in our judgment of Hamlet or Othello if a manuscript of Shakespeare's memoirs should turn up, and we should find out that he had been a pitiful fellow? None in the world; for he is not a professed moralist, and his life does not give the warrant to his words. But if Demosthenes, after all his Philippies, throws away his shield and runs, we feel the contemptibleness of the contradiction. With genius itself we never find any fault. It would be an over-nicety that would do that. We do not get invited to nectar and ambrosia so often that we think of grumbling and saying we have better at home. No; the same genius that mastered him who wrote the poem masters us in reading it, and we care for nothing outside the poem itself. How the author lived, what he wore, how he looked,--all that is mere gossip, about which we need not trouble ourselves. Whatever he was or did, somehow or other God let him be worthy to write _this_, and that is enough for us. We forgive everything to the genius; we are inexorable to the man. Shakespeare, Goethe, Burns,--what have their biographies to do with us? Genius is not a question of character. It may be sordid, like the lamp of Aladdin, in its externals; what care we, while the touch of it builds palaces for us, makes us rich as only men in dream-land are rich, and lords to the utmost bound of imagination? So, when people talk of the ungrateful way in which the world treats its geniuses, they speak unwisely. There is no work of genius which has not been the delight of mankind, no word of genius to which the human heart and soul have not, sooner or later, responded. But the man whom the genius takes possession of for its pen, for its trowel, for its pencil, for its chisel, _him_ the world treats according to his deserts. Does Burns drink? It sets him to gauging casks of gin. For, remember, it is not to the practical world that the genius appeals; it _is_ the practical world which judges of the man's fitness for its uses, and has a right so to judge. No amount of patronage could have made distilled liquors less toothsome to Robbie Burns, as no amount of them could make a Burns of the Ettrick Shepherd. There is an old story in the _Gesta Romanorum_ of a priest who was found fault with by one of his parishioners because his life was in painful discordance with his teaching. So one day he takes his critic out to a stream, and, giving him to drink of it, asks him if he does not find it sweet and pure water. The parishioner, having answered that it was, is taken to the source, and finds that what had so refreshed him flowed from between the jaws of a dead dog. "Let this teach thee," said the priest, "that the very best doctrine may take its rise in a very impure and disgustful spring, and that excellent morals may be taught by a man who has no morals at all." It is easy enough to see the fallacy here. Had the man known beforehand from what a carrion fountain-head the stream issued, he could not have drunk of it without loathing. Had the priest merely bidden him to _look_ at the stream and see how beautiful it was, instead of tasting it, it would have been quite another matter. And this is precisely the difference between what appeals to our aesthetic and to our moral sense, between what is judged of by the taste and the conscience. It is when the sentimentalist turns preacher of morals that we investigate his character, and are justified in so doing. He may express as many and as delicate shades of feeling as he likes,--for this the sensibility of his organization perfectly fits him, no other person could do it so well,--but the moment he undertakes to establish his feeling as a rule of conduct, we ask at once how far are his own life and deed in accordance with what he preaches? For every man feels instinctively that all the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action; and that while tenderness of feeling and susceptibility to generous emotions are accidents of temperament, goodness is an achievement of the will and a quality of the life. Fine words, says our homely old proverb, butter no parsnips; and if the question be how to render those vegetables palatable, an ounce of butter would be worth more than all the orations of Cicero. The only conclusive evidence of a man's sincerity is that he give _himself_ for a principle. Words, money, all things else, are comparatively easy to give away; but when a man makes a gift of his daily life and practice, it is plain that the truth, whatever it may be, has taken possession of him. From that sincerity his words gain the force and pertinency of deeds, and his money is no longer the pale drudge 'twixt man and man, but, by a beautiful magic, what erewhile bore the image and superscription of Caesar seems now to bear the image and superscription of God. It is thus that there is a genius for goodness, for magnanimity, for self-sacrifice, as well as for creative art; and it is thus that by a more refined sort of Platonism the Infinite Beauty dwells in and shapes to its own likeness the soul which gives it body and individuality. But when Moore charges genius with being an impostor, the confusion of his ideas is pitiable. There is nothing so true, so sincere, so downright and forthright, as genius. It is always truer than the man himself is, greater than he. If Shakespeare the man had been as marvellous a creature as the genius that wrote his plays, that genius so comprehensive in its intelligence, so wise even in its play, that its clowns are moralists and philosophers, so penetrative that a single one of its phrases reveals to us the secret of our own character, would his contemporaries have left us so wholly without record of him as they have done, distinguishing him in no wise from his fellow-players? Rousseau, no doubt, was weak, nay, more than that, was sometimes despicable, but yet is not fairly to be reckoned among the herd of sentimentalists. It is shocking that a man whose preaching made it fashionable for women of rank to nurse their own children should have sent his own, as soon as born, to the foundling hospital, still more shocking that, in a note to his _Discours sur l'Inégalité_, he should speak of this crime as one of the consequences of our social system. But for all that there was a faith and an ardor of conviction in him that distinguish him from most of the writers of his time. Nor were his practice and his preaching always inconsistent. He contrived to pay regularly, whatever his own circumstances were, a pension of one hundred _livres_ a year to a maternal aunt who had been kind to him in childhood. Nor was his asceticism a sham. He might have turned his gift into laced coats and _châteaux_ as easily as Voltaire, had he not held it too sacred to be bartered away in any such losing exchange. But what is worthy of especial remark is this,--that in nearly all that he wrote his leading object was the good of his kind, and that through all the vicissitudes of a life which illness, sensibility of temperament, and the approaches of insanity rendered wretched,--the associate of infidels, the foundling child, as it were, of an age without belief, least of all in itself,--he professed and evidently felt deeply a faith in the goodness both of man and of God. There is no such thing as scoffing in his writings. On the other hand, there is no stereotyped morality. He does not ignore the existence of scepticism; he recognizes its existence in his own nature, meets it frankly face to face, and makes it confess that there are things in the teaching of Christ that are deeper than its doubt. The influence of his early education at Geneva is apparent here. An intellect so acute as his, trained in the school of Calvin in a republic where theological discussion was as much the amusement of the people as the opera was at Paris, could not fail to be a good logician. He had the fortitude to follow his logic wherever it led him. If the very impressibility of character which quickened his perception of the beauties of nature, and made him alive to the charm of music and musical expression, prevented him from being in the highest sense an original writer, and if his ideas were mostly suggested to him by books, yet the clearness, consecutiveness, and eloquence with which he stated and enforced them made them his own. There was at least that original fire in him which could fuse them and run them in a novel mould. His power lay in this very ability of manipulating the thoughts of others. Fond of paradox he doubtless was, but he had a way of putting things that arrested attention and excited thought. It was, perhaps, this very sensibility of the surrounding atmosphere of feeling and speculation, which made Rousseau more directly influential on contemporary thought (or perhaps we should say sentiment) than any writer of his time. And this is rarely consistent with enduring greatness in literature. It forces us to remember, against our will, the oratorical character of his works. They were all pleas, and he a great advocate, with Europe in the jury-box. Enthusiasm begets enthusiasm, eloquence produces conviction for the moment, but it is only by truth to nature and the everlasting intuitions of mankind that those abiding influences are won that enlarge from generation to generation. Rousseau was in many respects--as great pleaders always are--a man of the day, who must needs become a mere name to posterity, yet he could not but have had in him some not inconsiderable share of that principle by which man eternizes himself. For it is only to such that the night cometh not in which no man shall work, and he is still operative both in politics and literature by the principles he formulated or the emotions to which he gave a voice so piercing and so sympathetic. In judging Rousseau, it would be unfair not to take note of the malarious atmosphere in which he grew up. The constitution of his mind was thus early infected with a feverish taint that made him shiveringly sensitive to a temperature which hardier natures found bracing. To him this rough world was but too literally a rack. Good-humored Mother Nature commonly imbeds the nerves of her children in a padding of self-conceit that serves as a buffer against the ordinary shocks to which even a life of routine is liable, and it would seem at first sight as if Rousseau had been better cared for than usual in this regard. But as his self-conceit was enormous, so was the reaction from it proportionate, and the fretting suspiciousness of temper, sure mark of an unsound mind, which rendered him incapable of intimate friendship, while passionately longing for it, became inevitably, when turned inward, a tormenting self-distrust. To dwell in unrealities is the doom of the sentimentalist; but it should not be forgotten that the same fitful intensity of emotion which makes them real as the means of elation, gives them substance also for torture. Too irritably jealous to endure the rude society of men, he steeped his senses in the enervating incense that women are only too ready to burn. If their friendship be a safeguard to the other sex, their homage is fatal to all but the strongest, and Rousseau was weak both by inheritance and early training. His father was one of those feeble creatures for whom a fine phrase could always satisfactorily fill the void that non-performance leaves behind it. If he neglected duty, he made up for it by that cultivation of the finer sentiments of our common nature which waters flowers of speech with the brineless tears of a flabby remorse, without one fibre of resolve in it, and which impoverishes the character in proportion as it enriches the vocabulary. He was a very Apicius in that digestible kind of woe which makes no man leaner, and had a favorite receipt for cooking you up a sorrow _à la douleur inassouvie_ that had just enough delicious sharpness in it to bring tears into the eyes by tickling the palate. "When he said to me, 'Jean Jacques, let us speak of thy mother,' I said to him, 'Well, father, we are going to weep, then,' and this word alone drew tears from him. 'Ah !' said he, groaning, 'give her back to me, console me for her, fill the void she has left in my soul!'" Alas! in such cases, the void she leaves is only that she found. The grief that seeks any other than its own society will erelong want an object. This admirable parent allowed his son to become an outcast at sixteen, without any attempt to reclaim him, in order to enjoy unmolested a petty inheritance to which the boy was entitled in right of his mother. "This conduct," Rousseau tells us, "of a father whose tenderness and virtue were so well known to me, caused me to make reflections on myself which have not a little contributed to make my heart sound. I drew from it this great maxim of morals, the only one perhaps serviceable in practice, to avoid situations which put our duties in opposition to our interest, and which show us our own advantage in the wrong of another, sure that in such situations, _however sincere may be one's love of virtue_, it sooner or later grows weak without our perceiving it, _and that we become unjust and wicked in action without having ceased to be just and good in soul_." This maxim may do for that "fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and seeks its adversary," which Milton could not praise,--that is, for a manhood whose distinction it is not to be manly,--but it is chiefly worth notice as being the characteristic doctrine of sentimentalism. This disjoining of deed from will, of practice from theory, is to put asunder what God has joined by an indissoluble sacrament. The soul must be tainted before the action become corrupt; and there is no self-delusion more fatal than that which makes the conscience dreamy with the anodyne of lofty sentiments, while the life is grovelling and sensual,--witness Coleridge. In his case we feel something like disgust. But where, as in his son Hartley, there is hereditary infirmity, where the man sees the principle that might rescue him slip from the clutch of a nerveless will, like a rope through the fingers of a drowning man, and the confession of faith is the moan of despair, there is room for no harsher feeling than pity. Rousseau showed through life a singular proneness for being convinced by his own eloquence; he was always his own first convert; and this reconciles his power as a writer with his weakness as a man. He and all like him mistake emotion for conviction, velleity for resolve, the brief eddy of sentiment for the midcurrent of ever-gathering faith in duty that draws to itself all the affluents of conscience and will, and gives continuity of purpose to life. They are like men who love the stimulus of being under conviction, as it is called, who, forever getting religion, never get capital enough to retire upon and spend for their own need and the common service. The sentimentalist is the spiritual hypochondriac, with whom fancies become facts, while facts are a discomfort because they will not be evaporated into fancy. In his eyes, Theory is too fine a dame to confess even a country-cousinship with coarse handed Practice, whose homely ways would disconcert her artificial world. The very susceptibility that makes him quick to feel, makes him also incapable of deep and durable feeling. He loves to think he suffers, and keeps a pet sorrow, a blue-devil familiar, that goes with him everywhere, like Paracelsus's black dog. He takes good care, however, that it shall not be the true sulphurous article that sometimes takes a fancy to fly away with his conjurer. René says: "In my madness I had gone so far as even to wish I might experience a misfortune, so that my suffering might at least have a real object." But no; selfishness is only active egotism, and there is nothing and nobody, with a single exception, which this sort of creature will not sacrifice, rather than give any other than an imaginary pang to his idol. Vicarious pain he is not unwilling to endure, nay, will even commit suicide by proxy, like the German poet who let his wife kill herself to give him a sensation. Had young Jerusalem been anything like Goethe's portrait of him in Werther, he would have taken very good care not to blow out the brains which he would have thought only too precious. Real sorrows are uncomfortable things, but purely aesthetic ones are by no means unpleasant, and I have always fancied the handsome young Wolfgang writing those distracted letters to Auguste Stolberg with a looking-glass in front of him to give back an image of his desolation, and finding it rather pleasant than otherwise to shed the tear of sympathy with self that would seem so bitter to his fair correspondent. The tears that have real salt in them will keep; they are the difficult, manly tears that are shed in secret; but the pathos soon evaporates from that fresh-water with which a man can bedew a dead donkey in public, while his wife is having a good cry over his neglect of her at home. We do not think the worse of Goethe for hypothetically desolating himself in the fashion aforesaid, for with many constitutions it is as purely natural a crisis as dentition, which the stronger worry through, and turn out very sensible, agreeable fellows. But where there is an arrest of development, and the heartbreak of the patient is audibly prolonged through life, we have a spectacle which the toughest heart would wish to get as far away from as possible. We would not be supposed to overlook the distinction, too often lost sight of, between sentimentalism and sentiment, the latter being a very excellent thing in its way, as genuine things are apt to be. Sentiment is intellectualized emotion, emotion precipitated, as it were, in pretty crystals by the fancy. This is the delightful staple of the poets of social life like Horace and Béranger, or Thackeray, when he too rarely played with verse. It puts into words for us that decorous average of feeling to the expression of which society can consent without danger of being indiscreetly moved. It is excellent for people who are willing to save their souls alive to any extent that shall not be discomposing. It is even satisfying till some deeper experience has given us a hunger which what we so glibly call "the world" cannot sate, just as a water-ice is nourishment enough to a man who has had his dinner. It is the sufficing lyrical interpreter of those lighter hours that should make part of every healthy man's day, and is noxious only when it palls men's appetite for the truly profound poetry which is very passion of very soul sobered by afterthought and embodied in eternal types by imagination. True sentiment is emotion ripened by a slow ferment of the mind and qualified to an agreeable temperance by that taste which is the conscience of polite society. But the sentimentalist always insists on taking his emotion neat, and, as his sense gradually deadens to the stimulus, increases his dose till he ends in a kind of moral deliquium. At first the debaucher, he becomes at last the victim of his sensations. Among the ancients we find no trace of sentimentalism. Their masculine mood both of body and mind left no room for it, and hence the bracing quality of their literature compared with that of recent times, its tonic property, that seems almost too astringent to palates relaxed by a daintier diet. The first great example of the degenerate modern tendency was Petrarch, who may be said to have given it impulse and direction. A more perfect specimen of the type has not since appeared. An intellectual voluptuary, a moral _dilettante_, the first instance of that character, since too common, the gentleman in search of a sensation, seeking a solitude at Vaucluse because it made him more likely to be in demand at Avignon, praising philosophic poverty with a sharp eye to the next rich benefice in the gift of his patron, commending a good life but careful first of a good living, happy only in seclusion but making a dangerous journey to enjoy the theatrical show of a coronation in the Capitol, cherishing a fruitless passion which broke his heart three or four times a year and yet could not make an end of him till he had reached the ripe age of seventy and survived his mistress a quarter of a century,--surely a more exquisite perfection of inconsistency would be hard to find. When Petrarch returned from his journey into the North of Europe in 1332, he balanced the books of his unrequited passion, and, finding that he had now been in love seven years, thought the time had at last come to call deliberately on Death. Had Death taken him at his word, he would have protested that he was only in fun. For we find him always taking good care of an excellent constitution, avoiding the plague with commendable assiduity, and in the very year when he declares it absolutely essential to his peace of mind to die for good and all, taking refuge in the fortress of Capranica, from a wholesome dread of having his throat cut by robbers. There is such a difference between dying in a sonnet with a cambric handkerchief at one's eyes, and the prosaic reality of demise certified in the parish register! Practically it is inconvenient to be dead. Among other things, it puts an end to the manufacture of sonnets. But there seems to have been an excellent understanding between Petrarch and Death, for he was brought to that grisly monarch's door so often, that, otherwise, nothing short of a miracle or the nine lives of that animal whom love also makes lyrical could have saved him. "I consent," he cries, "to live and die in Africa among its serpents, upon Caucasus, or Atlas, if, while I live, to breathe a pure air, and after my death a little corner of earth where to bestow my body, may be allowed me. This is all I ask, but this I cannot obtain. Doomed always to wander, and to be a stranger everywhere, O Fortune, Fortune, fix me at last to some one spot! I do not covet thy favors. Let me enjoy a tranquil poverty, let me pass in this retreat the few days that remain to me!" The pathetic stop of Petrarch's poetical organ was one he could pull out at pleasure,--and indeed we soon learn to distrust literary tears, as the cheap subterfuge for want of real feeling with natures of this quality. Solitude with him was but the pseudonyme of notoriety. Poverty was the archdeaconry of Parma, with other ecclesiastical pickings. During his retreat at Vaucluse, in the very height of that divine sonneteering love of Laura, of that sensitive purity which called Avignon Babylon, and rebuked the sinfulness of Clement, he was himself begetting that kind of children which we spell with a _b_. We believe that, if Messer Francesco had been present when the woman was taken in adultery, he would have flung the first stone without the slightest feeling of inconsistency, nay, with a sublime sense of virtue. The truth is, that it made very little difference to him what sort of proper sentiment he expressed, provided he could do it elegantly and with unction. Would any one feel the difference between his faint abstractions and the Platonism of a powerful nature fitted alike for the withdrawal of ideal contemplation and for breasting the storms of life,--would any one know how wide a depth divides a noble friendship based on sympathy of pursuit and aspiration, on that mutual help which souls capable of self-sustainment are the readiest to give or to take, and a simulated passion, true neither to the spiritual nor the sensual part of man,--let him compare the sonnets of Petrarch with those which Michel Angelo addressed to Vittoria Colonna. In them the airiest pinnacles of sentiment and speculation are buttressed with solid mason-work of thought, and of an actual, not fancied experience, and the depth of feeling is measured by the sobriety and reserve of expression, while in Petrarch's all ingenuousness is frittered away into ingenuity. Both are cold, but the coldness of the one is self-restraint, while the other chills with pretence of warmth. In Michel Angelo's, you feel the great architect; in Petrarch's the artist who can best realize his conception in the limits of a cherry-stone. And yet this man influenced literature longer and more widely than almost any other in modern times. So great is the charm of elegance, so unreal is the larger part of what is written! Certainly I do not mean to say that a work of art should be looked at by the light of the artist's biography, or measured by our standard of his character. Nor do I reckon what was genuine in Petrarch--his love of letters, his refinement, his skill in the superficial graces of language, that rhetorical art by which the music of words supplants their meaning, and the verse moulds the thought instead of being plastic to it--after any such fashion. I have no ambition for that character of _valet de chambre_ which is said to disenchant the most heroic figures into mere every-day personages, for it implies a mean soul no less than a servile condition. But we have a right to demand a certain amount of reality, however small, in the emotion of a man who makes it his business to endeavor at exciting our own. We have a privilege of nature to shiver before a painted flame, how cunningly soever the colors be laid on. Yet our love of minute biographical detail, our desire to make ourselves spies upon the men of the past, seems so much of an instinct in us, that we must look for the spring of it in human nature, and that somewhat deeper than mere curiosity or love of gossip. It should seem to arise from what must be considered on the whole a creditable feeling, namely, that we value character more than any amount of talent,--the skill to _be_ something, above that of doing anything but the best of its kind. The highest creative genius, and that only, is privileged from arrest by this personality, for there the thing produced is altogether disengaged from the producer. But in natures incapable of this escape from themselves, the author is inevitably mixed with his work, and we have a feeling that the amount of his sterling character is the security for the notes he issues. Especially we feel so when truth to self, which is always self-forgetful, and not truth to nature, makes an essential part of the value of what is offered us; as where a man undertakes to narrate personal experience or to enforce a dogma. This is particularly true as respects sentimentalists, because of their intrusive self-consciousness; for there is no more universal characteristic of human nature than the instinct of men to apologize to themselves for themselves, and to justify personal failings by generalizing them into universal laws. A man would be the keenest devil's advocate against himself, were it not that he has always taken a retaining fee for the defence; for we think that the indirect and mostly unconscious pleas in abatement which we read between the lines in the works of many authors are oftener written to set themselves right in their own eyes than in those of the world. And in the real life of the sentimentalist it is the same. He is under the wretched necessity of keeping up, at least in public, the character he has assumed, till he at last reaches that last shift of bankrupt self-respect, to play the hypocrite with himself. Lamartine, after passing round the hat in Europe and America, takes to his bed from wounded pride when the French Senate votes him a subsidy, and sheds tears of humiliation. Ideally, he resents it; in practical coin, he will accept the shame without a wry face. George Sand, speaking of Rousseau's "Confessions," says that an autobiographer always makes himself the hero of his own novel, and cannot help idealizing, even if he would. But the weak point of all sentimentalists is that they always have been, and always continue under every conceivable circumstance to be, their own ideals, whether they are writing their own lives or no. Rousseau opens his book with the statement: "I am not made like any of those I have seen; I venture to believe myself unlike any that exists. If I am not worth more, at least I am different." O exquisite cunning of self-flattery! It is this very imagined difference that makes us worth more in our own foolish sight. For while all men are apt to think, or to persuade themselves that they think, all other men their accomplices in vice or weakness, they are not difficult of belief that they are singular in any quality or talent on which they hug themselves. More than this; people who are truly original are the last to find it out, for the moment we become conscious of a virtue it has left us or is getting ready to go. Originality does not consist in a fidgety assertion of selfhood, but in the faculty of getting rid of it altogether, that the truer genius of the man, which commerces with universal nature and with other souls through a common sympathy with that, may take all his powers wholly to itself,--and the truly original man could no more be jealous of his peculiar gift, than the grass could take credit to itself for being green. What is the reason that all children are geniuses, (though they contrive so soon to outgrow that dangerous quality,) except that they never cross-examine themselves on the subject? The moment that process begins, their speech loses its gift of unexpectedness, and they become as tediously impertinent as the rest of us. If there never was any one like him, if he constituted a genus in himself, to what end write confessions in which no other human being could ever be in a condition to take the least possible interest? All men are interested in Montaigne in proportion as all men find more of themselves in him, and all men see but one image in the glass which the greatest of poets holds up to nature, an image which at once startles and charms them with its familiarity. Fabulists always endow their animals with the passions and desires of men. But if an ox could dictate his confessions, what glimmer of understanding should we find in those bovine confidences, unless on some theory of pre existence, some blank misgiving of a creature moving about in worlds not realized? The truth is, that we recognize the common humanity of Rousseau in the very weakness that betrayed him into this conceit of himself; we find he is just like the rest of us in this very assumption of essential difference, for among all animals man is the only one who tries to pass for more than he is, and so involves himself in the condemnation of seeming less. But it would be sheer waste of time to hunt Rousseau through all his doublings of inconsistency, and run him to earth in every new paradox. His first two books attacked, one of them literature, and the other society. But this did not prevent him from being diligent with his pen, nor from availing himself of his credit with persons who enjoyed all the advantages of that inequality whose evils he had so pointedly exposed. Indeed, it is curious how little practical communism there has been, how few professors it has had who would not have gained by a general dividend. It is perhaps no frantic effort of generosity in a philosopher with ten crowns in his pocket when he offers to make common stock with a neighbor who has ten thousand of yearly income, nor is it an uncommon thing to see such theories knocked clean out of a man's head by the descent of a thumping legacy. But, consistent or not, Rousseau remains permanently interesting as the highest and most perfect type of the sentimentalist of genius. His was perhaps the acutest mind that was ever mated with an organization so diseased, the brain most far-reaching in speculation that ever kept itself steady and worked out its problems amid such disordered tumult of the nerves.[166] His letter to the Archbishop of Paris, admirable for its lucid power and soberness of tone, and his _Rousseau juge de Jean Jacques_, which no man can read and believe him to have been sane, show him to us in his strength and weakness, and give us a more charitable, let us hope therefore a truer, notion of him than his own apology for himself. That he was a man of genius appears unmistakably in his impressibility by the deeper meaning of the epoch in which he lived. Before an eruption, clouds steeped through and through with electric life gather over the crater, as if in sympathy and expectation. As the mountain heaves and cracks, these vapory masses are seamed with fire, as if they felt and answered the dumb agony that is struggling for utterance below. Just such flashes of eager sympathetic fire break continually from the cloudy volumes of Rousseau, the result at once and the warning of that convulsion of which Paris was to be the crater and all Europe to feel the spasm. There are symptoms enough elsewhere of that want of faith in the existing order which made the Revolution inevitable,--even so shallow an observer as Horace Walpole could forebode it so early as 1765,--but Rousseau more than all others is the unconscious expression of the groping after something radically new, the instinct for a change that should be organic and pervade every fibre of the social and political body. Freedom of thought owes far more to the jester Voltaire, who also had his solid kernel of earnest, than to the sombre Genevese, whose earnestness is of the deadly kind. Yet, for good or evil, the latter was the father of modern democracy, and with out him our Declaration of Independence would have wanted some of those sentences in which the immemorial longings of the poor and the dreams of solitary enthusiasts were at last affirmed as axioms in the manifesto of a nation, so that all the world might hear. Though Rousseau, like many other fanatics, had a remarkable vein of common sense in him, (witness his remarks on duelling, on landscape-gardening, on French poetry, and much of his thought on education,) we cannot trace many practical results to his teaching, least of all in politics. For the great difficulty with his system, if system it may be called, is, that, while it professes to follow nature, it not only assumes as a starting-point that the individual man may be made over again, but proceeds to the conclusion that man himself, that human nature, must be made over again, and governments remodelled on a purely theoretic basis. But when something like an experiment in this direction was made in 1789, not only did it fail as regarded man in general, but even as regards the particular variety of man that inhabited France. The Revolution accomplished many changes, and beneficent ones, yet it left France peopled, not by a new race without traditions, but by Frenchmen. Still, there could not but be a wonderful force in the words of a man who, above all others, had the secret of making abstractions glow with his own fervor; and his ideas--dispersed now in the atmosphere of thought--have influenced, perhaps still continue to influence, speculative minds, which prefer swift and sure generalization to hesitating and doubtful experience. Rousseau has, in one respect, been utterly misrepresented and misunderstood. Even Châteaubriand most unfilially classes him and Voltaire together. It appears to me that the inmost core of his being was religious. Had he remained in the Catholic Church he might have been a saint. Had he come earlier, he might have founded an order. His was precisely the nature on which religious enthusiasm takes the strongest hold,--a temperament which finds a sensuous delight in spiritual things, and satisfies its craving for excitement with celestial debauch. He had not the iron temper of a great reformer and organizer like Knox, who, true Scotchman that he was, found a way to weld this world and the other together in a cast-iron creed; but he had as much as any man ever had that gift of a great preacher to make the oratorical fervor which persuades himself while it lasts into the abiding conviction of his hearers. That very persuasion of his that the soul could remain pure while the life was corrupt, is not unexampled among men who have left holier names than he. His "Confessions," also, would assign him to that class with whom the religious sentiment is strong, and the moral nature weak. They are apt to believe that they may, as special pleaders say, confess and avoid. Hawthorne has admirably illustrated this in the penance of Mr. Dimmesdale. With all the soil that is upon Rousseau, I cannot help looking on him as one capable beyond any in his generation of being divinely possessed; and if it happened otherwise, when we remember the much that hindered and the little that helped in a life and time like his, we shall be much readier to pity than to condemn. It was his very fitness for being something better that makes him able to shock us so with what in too many respects he unhappily was. Less gifted, he had been less hardly judged. More than any other of the sentimentalists, except possibly Sterne, he had in him a staple of sincerity. Compared with Châteaubriand, he is honesty, compared with Lamartine, he is manliness itself. His nearest congener in our own tongue is Cowper. In the whole school there is a sickly taint. The strongest mark which Rousseau has left upon literature is a sensibility to the picturesque in Nature, not with Nature as a strengthener and consoler, a wholesome tonic for a mind ill at ease with itself, but with Nature as a kind of feminine echo to the mood, flattering it with sympathy rather than correcting it with rebuke or lifting it away from its unmanly depression, as in the wholesomer fellow-feeling of Wordsworth. They seek in her an accessary, and not a reproof. It is less a sympathy with Nature than a sympathy with ourselves as we compel her to reflect us. It is solitude, Nature for her estrangement from man, not for her companionship with him,--it is desolation and ruin, Nature as she has triumphed over man,--with which this order of mind seeks communion and in which it finds solace. It is with the hostile and destructive power of matter, and not with the spirit of life and renewal that dwells in it, that they ally themselves. And in human character it is the same. St. Preux, René, Werther, Manfred, Quasimodo, they are all anomalies, distortions, ruins,--so much easier is it to caricature life from our own sickly conception of it, than to paint it in its noble simplicity; so much cheaper is unreality than truth. Every man is conscious that he leads two lives,--the one trivial and ordinary, the other sacred and recluse; one which he carries to society and the dinner-table, the other in which his youth and aspiration survive for him, and which is a confidence between himself and God. Both may be equally sincere, and there need be no contradiction between them, any more than in a healthy man between soul and body. If the higher life be real and earnest, its result, whether in literature or affairs, will be real and earnest too. But no man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere in dealing with himself, who would not exchange the finest show for the poorest reality, who does not so love his work that he is not only glad to give himself for it, but finds rather a gain than a sacrifice in the surrender. The sentimentalist does not think of what he does so much as of what the world will think of what he does. He translates should into would, looks upon the spheres of duty and beauty as alien to each other, and can never learn how life rounds itself to a noble completeness between these two opposite but mutually sustaining poles of what we long for and what we must. Did Rousseau, then, lead a life of this quality? Perhaps, when we consider the contrast which every man who looks backward must feel between the life he planned and the life which circumstance within him and without him has made for him, we should rather ask, Was this the life he meant to lead? Perhaps, when we take into account his faculty of self-deception,--it may be no greater than our own,--we should ask, Was this the life he believed he led? Have we any right to judge this man after our blunt English fashion, and condemn him, as we are wont to do, on the finding of a jury of average householders? Is French reality precisely our reality? Could we tolerate tragedy in rhymed alexandrines, instead of blank verse? The whole life of Rousseau is pitched on this heroic key, and for the most trivial occasion he must be ready with the sublime sentiments that are supposed to suit him rather than it. It is one of the most curious features of the sentimental ailment, that, while it shuns the contact of men, it courts publicity. In proportion as solitude and communion with self lead the sentimentalist to exaggerate the importance of his own personality, he comes to think that the least event connected with it is of consequence to his fellow-men. If he change his shirt, he would have mankind aware of it. Victor Hugo, the greatest living representative of the class, considers it necessary to let the world know by letter from time to time his opinions on every conceivable subject about which it is not asked nor is of the least value unless we concede to him an immediate inspiration. We men of colder blood, in whom self-consciousness takes the form of pride, and who have deified _mauvaise honte_ as if our defect were our virtue, find it especially hard to understand that artistic impulse of more southern races to _pose_ themselves properly on every occasion, and not even to die without some tribute of deference to the taste of the world they are leaving. Was not even mighty Caesar's last thought of his drapery? Let us not condemn Rousseau for what seems to us the indecent exposure of himself in his "Confessions." Those who allow an oratorical and purely conventional side disconnected with our private understanding of the facts, and with life, in which everything has a wholly parliamentary sense where truth is made subservient to the momentary exigencies of eloquence, should be charitable to Rousseau. While we encourage a distinction which establishes two kinds of truth, one for the world, and another for the conscience, while we take pleasure in a kind of speech that has no relation to the real thought of speaker or hearer, but to the rostrum only, we must not be hasty to condemn a sentimentalism which we do our best to foster. We listen in public with the gravity or augurs to what we smile at when we meet a brother adept. France is the native land of eulogy, of truth padded out to the size and shape demanded by _comme-il-faut_. The French Academy has, perhaps, done more harm by the vogue it has given to this style, than it has done good by its literary purism; for the best purity of a language depends on the limpidity of its source in veracity of thought. Rousseau was in many respects a typical Frenchman, and it is not to be wondered at if he too often fell in with the fashion of saying what was expected of him, and what he thought due to the situation, rather than what would have been true to his inmost consciousness. Perhaps we should allow something also to the influence of a Calvinistic training, which certainly helps men who have the least natural tendency towards it to set faith above works, and to persuade themselves of the efficacy of an inward grace to offset an outward and visible defection from it. As the sentimentalist always takes a fanciful, sometimes an unreal, life for an ideal one, it would be too much to say that Rousseau was a man of earnest convictions. But he was a man of fitfully intense ones, as suited so mobile a temperament, and his writings, more than those of any other of his tribe, carry with them that persuasion that was in him while he wrote. In them at least he is as consistent as a man who admits new ideas can ever be. The children of his brain he never abandoned, but clung to them with paternal fidelity. Intellectually he was true and fearless; constitutionally, timid, contradictory, and weak; but never, if we understand him rightly, false. He was a little too credulous of sonorous sentiment, but he was never, like Châteaubriand or Lamartine, the lackey of fine phrases. If, as some fanciful physiologists have assumed, there be a masculine and feminine lobe of the brain, it would seem that in men of sentimental turn the masculine half fell in love with and made an idol of the other, obeying and admiring all the pretty whims of this _folle du logis_. In Rousseau the mistress had some noble elements of character, and less taint of the _demi-monde_ than is visible in more recent cases of the same illicit relation. Footnotes: [165] _Histoire des Idées Morales et Politiques en France au XVIIIme Siecle._ Par M. Jules Barni, Professeur à l'Académie de Genève, Tome II. Paris, 1867. [166] Perhaps we should except Newton. 
6701	----	images generously made available by the CWRU Preservation Department Digital Library SIDONIA THE SORCERESS THE SUPPOSED DESTROYER OF THE WHOLE REIGNING DUCAL HOUSE OF POMERANIA. TRANSLATED BY LADY WILDE MARY SCHWEIDLER THE AMBER WITCH BY WILLIAM MEINHOLD DOCTOR OF THEOLOGY IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. II. 1894 CONTENTS SIDONIA THE SORCERESS. BOOK III. Continued. _FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA INTO THE CONVENT AT MARIENFLIESS UP TILL HER EXECUTION, AUGUST_ 19TH, 1620. CHAPTER IV. How Dorothea Stettin is talked out of the sub-prioret by Sidonia, and the priest is prohibited from visiting the convent. CHAPTER V. How Sidonia wounds Ambrosia von Guntersberg with an axe, because she purposed to marry--And prays the convent porter, Matthias Winterfeld, to death--For these, and other causes, the reverend chaplain refuses to shrive the sorceress, and denounces her publicly from the altar. CHAPTER VI. Dorothea Stettin falls sick, and how the doctor manages to bleed her--Item, how Sidonia chases the princely commissioners into the oak-forest. CHAPTER VII. How the assembled Pomeranian princes hold a council over Sidonia, and at length cite her to appear at the ducal court. CHAPTER VIII. Of Sidonia's defence--Item, how she has a quarrel with Joachim Wedel, and bewitches him to death. CHAPTER IX. How a strange woman (who must assuredly have been Sidonia) incites the lieges of his Grace to great uproar and tumult in Stettin, by reason of the new tax upon beer. CHAPTER X. Of the fearful events that take place at Marienfliess--Item, how Dorothea Stettin becomes possessed by the devil. CHAPTER XI. Of the arrival of Diliana and the death of the convent priest-- Item, how the unfortunate corpse is torn by a wolf. CHAPTER XII. How Jobst Bork has himself carried to Marienfliess in his bed to reclaim his fair young daughter Diliana--Item, how George Putkammer threatens Sidonia with a drawn sword. CHAPTER XIII. How my gracious Lord Bishop Franciscus and the reverend Dr. Joel go to the Jews' school at Old Stettin, in order to steal the Schem Hamphorasch, and how the enterprise finishes with a sound. cudgelling. CHAPTER XIV. How the Duke Francis seeks a virgin at Marienfliess to cite the angel Och for him--Of Sidonia's evil plot thereupon, and the terrible uproar caused thereby in the convent. CHAPTER XV. Of the death of the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorfin--Item, how Duke Francis makes Jobst Bork and his daughter, Diliana, come to Camyn, and what happens there. CHAPTER XVI. Jobst Bork takes away his daughter by force from the Duke and Dr. Joel; also is strengthened in his unbelief by Dr. Cramer--Item, how my gracious Prince arrives at Marienfliess, and there vehemently menaces Sidonia. CHAPTER XVII. Of the fearful death of his Highness, Duke Philip II. of Pomerania, and of his melancholy but sumptuous burial. CHAPTER XVIII. How Jobst Bork and his little daughter are forced at last into the "Opus Magicum"--Item, how his Highness, Duke Francis, appoints Christian Ludecke, his attorney-general, to be witch-commissioner of Pomerania. CHAPTER XIX. How Christian Ludecke begins the witch-burnings in Marienfliess, and lets the poor dairy-mother die horribly on the rack. CHAPTER XX. What Sidonia said to these doings--Item, what our Lord God said; and lastly, of the magical experiment performed upon George Putkammer and Diliana, in Old Stettin. CHAPTER XXI. Of the awful and majestic appearance of the sun-angel, Och. CHAPTER XXII. How old Wolde is seized, confronted with Sidonia, and finally burned before her window. CHAPTER XXIII. How Diliana Bork and George Putkammer are at length betrothed-- Item, how Sidonia is degraded from her conventual dignities and carried to the witches' tower of Saatzig in chains. CHAPTER XXIV. Of the execution of Sidonia and the wedding of Diliana. CONCLUSION. Mournful destiny of the last princely Pomeranian remains--My visit to the ducal Pomeranian vault in Wolgast, on the 6th May 1840. THE AMBER WITCH. PREFACE INTRODUCTION CHAPTER VII. How the Imperialists robbed me of all that was left, and likewise broke into the church and stole the _Vasa Sacra;_ also what more befell us. CHAPTER VIII. How our need waxed sorer and sorer, and how I sent old Ilse with another letter to Pudgla, and how heavy a misfortune this brought upon me. CHAPTER IX. How the old maid-servant humbled me by her faith, and the Lord yet blessed me, His unworthy servant. CHAPTER X. How we journeyed to Wolgast, and made good barter there. CHAPTER XI. How I fed all the congregation--Item, how I journeyed to the horse-fair at Gützkow, and what befell me there. CHAPTER XII. What further joy and sorrow befell us-Item, how Wittich Appelmann rode to Damerow to the wolf-hunt, and what he proposed to my daughter. CHAPTER XIII. What more happened during the winter--Item, how in the spring witchcraft began in the village. CHAPTER XIV. How old Seden disappeared all on a sudden--Item, how the great Gustavus Adolphus came to Pomerania, and took the fort at Peenemünde. CHAPTER XV. Of the arrival of the high and mighty King Gustavus Adolphus, and what befell thereat. CHAPTER XVI. How little Mary Paasch was sorely plagued of the devil, and the whole parish fell off from me. CHAPTER XVII. How my poor child was taken up for a witch, and carried to Pudgla. CHAPTER XVIII. Of the first trial, and what came thereof. CHAPTER XIX. How Satan, by the permission of the most righteous God, sought altogether to ruin us, and how we lost all hope. CHAPTER XX. Of the malice of the Governor and of old Lizzie--Item, of the examination of witnesses. CHAPTER XXI. _De confrontations testium_. CHAPTER XXII. How the _Syndicus Dom._ Michelson arrived, and prepared his defence of my poor child. CHAPTER XXIII. How my poor child was sentenced to be put to the question. CHAPTER XXIV. How in my presence the devil fetched old Lizzie Kolken. CHAPTER XXV. How Satan sifted me like wheat, whereas my daughter withstood him right bravely. CHAPTER XXVI. How I received the Holy Sacrament with my daughter and the old maid-servant, and how she was then led for the last time before the court, with the drawn sword and the outcry, to receive sentence. CHAPTER XXVII. Of that which befell us by the way--Item, of the fearful death of the sheriff at the mill. CHAPTER XXVIII. How my daughter was at length saved by the help of the all-merciful, yea, of the all-merciful God. CHAPTER XXIX. Of our next great sorrow, and final joy. BOOK III. Continued. FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA INTO THE CONVENT AT MARIENFLIESS UP TILL HER EXECUTION, AUGUST 19TH, 1620. VOL. II. CHAPTER IV. _How Dorothea Stettin is talked out of the sub-prioret by Sidonia, and the priest is prohibited from visiting the convent._ If Sidonia could not be the pastor's wife, she was determined at least to be sub-prioress, and commenced her preparations for this object by knitting a little pair of red hose for her cat. Then she sent for Dorothea Stettin, saying that she was weak and ill, and no one took pity on her. When the good Dorothea came as she was asked, there lay my serpent on the bed in her nun's robes, groaning and moaning as if her last hour had come; and scarcely had the sub-prioress taken a seat near her, when my cat crept forth from under the bed, in his little red hose, mewing and rubbing himself up against the robe of the sub-prioress, as if praying her to remove this unwonted constraint from him, of the little red hose. After Dorothea had inquired about her sickness, she looked at the cat, and asked wonderingly, what was the meaning of such a strange dress? _Illa_.--"Ah, dear friend, it was dreadful to my feelings to see the little animal going about naked, therefore I knit little hose for him, as you see; indeed, I am often tempted to wonder how the Lord God could permit the poor animals to appear naked before us." _Hæc_ (extending her arms for joy, so that she almost tumbled back off the stool).--"Oh, God be praised and thanked, at last I have found one chaste soul in this wicked world! (sobs, throws up her eyes, falls upon Sidonia's neck, kisses her, and weeps over her:) ah yes, one chaste soul at last, like herself!" _Illa._--"True, Dorothea, there is no virtue so rare in this evil world as chastity. Ah, why has the Lord God placed such things before our eyes? I never can comprehend it, and never will. What a sight for a chaste virgin these naked animals! What did the dear sister think on the matter?" _Hæc._--"Ah, she knew not what to think, had asked the priest about it." _Illa._--"And what did he say?" _Hæc._--"He laughed at her." _Illa._--"Just like him, the lewd, hypocritical pharisee." _Hæc._--"Eh? she was too hard on the good priest. He was a pure and upright servant of God." _Illa._--"Ay, as Judas was. Had not sister Dorothea heard----" _Hæc._--"No; for God's sake, what? The dear sister frightened her already." _Illa._--"First, you confess that the priest laughed when you talked about chastity?" _Hæc._--"Yes, true, ah, indeed true." _Illa._--"Then you remember that he preached a sermon lately upon adul--upon adul--. No, she never could utter the word--the horrible word. Upon the seventh commandment, to the great scandal of the entire convent?" _Hæc._--"Ah yes, ah yes, she was there, and had to stop one ear with her finger, the other with her kerchief, not to hear all the strange and dreadful things he was saying." _Illa._--"And yet this was the man that ran in and out of the cloister daily at his pleasure, sent for or not--a young unmarried man--though the convent rules especially declared an _old_ man. Ah, if _she_ were sub-prioress, this scandal should never be permitted." _Hæc_.--"What could be done? it was a blessed thing to live in peace. Besides, the priest was such a pious man." _Illa_.--"Pious? Heaven defend us from such piety! Why, had she not heard?--the whole convent talked about it." _Hæc_.--"No, no; for God's sake, what had happened? tell her--she had been making sausages all the morning, and had heard nothing." _Illa_.--"Then know, ah God, how it pained her to talk of it--she had heard a great noise in the kitchen in the morning, as if all the pots and pans were tumbled about, and when she ran in to see--there was the priest--oh, her chaste eyes never had seen such a sight--the _pious_ priest making love to her old maid, Wolde." _Hæc_.--"Impossible, impossible!--to her old maid, Wolde?" _Illa_.-"Yea, and he was praying her for kisses, and praising her fat hand, and extolling her white hair. But as to what more she had seen----" _Hæc_.--"For God's sake, sister, what more?" _Illa_ (sighing, and covering her face with both hands).--"No, no, that she could never bring her chaste lips to utter. Oh, that such wickedness should be in the world (weeping bitterly). But she would never enter the chapel again, and that priest there; nor receive the rites from him. But this was not all; the dear sister must hear how he revenged himself upon her, because she interrupted his toying with the old hag. It was truth, all truth! She (Sidonia) grew so ill with fright and horror that she was unable to disrobe, and threw herself on the bed just as she was, but growing weaker and weaker hour by hour, sent for the priest at last, to pray with her, and afterwards to offer up general supplication for her restoration, in the chapel with all the sisterhood; but only think, the shameless hypocrite refused to pray with her, because he spied an end of her black robe out of the bed, declaring she was not ill at all, that she was a base liar, all because she had lain down in her convent dress, and finally went his way cursing and swearing, without even saying one prayer, or uttering one word of comfort, as was his duty. And now, alas! she must die without priest or sacrament! To what a Sodom and Gomorrah she had come! But if an old hag like her maid was not safe from the shameless parson, how could she or any of them be safe? What was to be done? unless the dear sister, as sub-prioress, took the matter in her own hands, and brought him to task about it?" At this proposal the other trembled like an aspen leaf, and seemed more dead than alive. She wept, wrung her hands--for God's sake what could she do? how could she talk on such a matter? Let the abbess see to it, if she chose. _Illa_.--"Stuff, the old pussy--the less said of _her_ the better. Why, she was worse than the old maid, Wolde, herself." _Hæc_.--"The abbess? why, the whole convent, and the whole world too, talked of her piety and virtue." _Illa_.--"Very virtuous, truly, to have the priest locked up with her; and when some of the sisters wished to remain, suspecting that all was not right, the priest pushed them out at the door with his own hands, and bolted it after them, as many could testify to her had been done this very day. Oh, what a Sodom and Gomorrah she had been betrayed into! (weeping, sobbing, and falling upon Dorothea's neck.) I pray you, sister, for the sake of our heavenly bridegroom, bring this evil to an end, otherwise fire and brimstone will assuredly and justly be rained down upon our poor cloister." Still the other maintained, "That the dear sister must err as regarded the abbess. It might be her chaste zeal that blinded her. True enough, probably, what she said of the priest; but the worthy abbess--no, never could she believe that." _Illa_.--"Let her have proof then. It was not her custom to weaken innocence; call her maid, Wolde." Then as Wolde entered, Sidonia made a sign, and bid her tell the sub-prioress all that the shameless priest had done. _Ancilla_.--"He had asked her for little kisses, praised her hands and hair, and her beautiful limp, and had sat up close to her on the bench, then run after her into the kitchen, gave her money (shows the money), asked again for kisses, then----" Sidonia screams-- "Hold your tongue; no more, no more; enough, enough!" At this story, Dorothea Stettin nearly went into convulsions--she wrung her hands, crying--. "How is it possible? O heaven, how is it possible?" _Illa_.--"There is something more quite possible also; the hag shall tell you what she saw at the room door of the abbess." _Ancilla_.-"When the scandalous priest left her, he went straight to the abbess, and there was taken with cramps, as she heard, upon which all the convent ran thither, and she with the rest. And he was lying stretched out on a bench, like one dead, no doubt from shame; but the shame soon went off, and then he got up, and bade them all leave the room. However, good Anna Apenborg did not choose to go, for she suspected evil. Whereupon he seized her by the hand, and put her out along with the others. She saw all this herself, for she was standing in the passage, waiting to speak to sister Anna. When, behold, she was pushed out, to her great surprise, in this way by the priest, and they heard the door bolted inside immediately after." At this Dorothea Stettin fell upon Sidonia's bed, weeping, sobbing, and ready to die with grief; but Sidonia bade her not take on so; for perhaps, after all, the old hag had not told the truth, at least concerning the dear, worthy abbess; but two witnesses would be sufficient testimony. Whereupon she bid Wolde watch for Anna Apenborg from the window, and beckon to her to come in if she saw her going by. And scarcely had Wolde stepped to the window, when she laughed and said-- "Truly, there stands Anna chatting with Agnes Kleist's maid at the well. Shall I run and call her?" "Yes," said Sidonia. In a little while Wolde returned with sister Anna. The girl looked wildly round at first, stared at the broom-sticks which lay crosswise under the table, and then asked, with a trembling voice, what the good sister wanted with her, while she took a seat on a trunk near the bed. "My old maid," said Sidonia, "tells me that the reverend chaplain took you by the hand, and put you out of the abbess's room, after which he bolted the door. Is this true or not? Speak the whole truth." So Anna related the whole story as Wolde had done; but, while talking, the curious damsel lifted up a corner of the quilt to peep under the bed, upon which my cat in his little red hose crept forth again, mewing and rubbing himself against Anna, at which she gave a shriek of horror and sprang out of the room, down the steps and into the courtyard, without ever once venturing to look behind her. And many think that this cat was Sidonia's evil spirit Chim. But Anna Apenborg saw afterwards a pair of terrible fiery eyes glaring at her from Sidonia's window; so others said, that must have been Chim. But we shall hear more of this same cat presently. _Summa_.--Sidonia knew well enough what made the girl scream, but she turned to Dorothea, and said-- "Ah, see how this wickedness has shocked the poor young nun! Therefore, dear sister, you must, as sub-prioress, make an end of the scandal, and prohibit this false priest from visiting the convent; for, indeed, they who permitted him such freedom amongst the nuns were more to blame for his sins than he himself." Poor Dorothea groaned forth in answer-- "Alas, alas! why did I ever accept the sub-prioret? For the couple of sacks of flour and the bit of corn which she got more than the others, it was not worth while to be plagued to death. It was all true about the priest. He must be dismissed. But then she loved peace. How could she right such matters? Oh, that some one would relieve her of this sub-prioret!" _Illa_.--"That can be easily done if you will. Suppose you ask Anna Apenborg to take it?" _Hæc_.--"No, no; Anna had not sense enough for that; but if the dear sister herself would take it, how happy she would feel." _Illa_.--"She was too sick, probably going to die; who could tell?" _Hæc_.--"No, no; she would pray for her. The dear sister could not be spared yet. Let her say yes (falling on her neck and weeping), only let her say yes." _Illa_.--"Well, out of love to her she would say yes; and if the Lord raised her up from this sick bed, order and decorum should reign again in the convent." _Hæc_ (again embracing her with gratitude).--"No doubt they would. She knew well that no such pure-minded nun was in the convent as her dear sister Sidonia." _Illa_.--"But, good Dorothea, in order to get rid of the priest as soon as possible, we had better send the porter immediately to summon the abbess and the entire sisterhood here, for you to tender your resignation in their presence." _Hæc_.--"But sister Sidonia must promise not to complain of the priest or the abbess to the Prince." _Illa_.--"No, no; I can settle the matter quietly, without laying a complaint before the Prince." _Hæc_.--"All right, then. Everything, if possible, in peace." Hereupon Sidonia despatched the porter to the abbess with a request that she and the whole convent would assemble in half-an-hour at the refectory, as she had somewhat to communicate. Meanwhile she instructed Dorothea in what she was to say, so as not to disgrace the poor abbess before the whole convent. At the end of the half-hour, the abbess and the entire sisterhood appeared, but all with anger and mistrust depicted on their countenances. Sidonia then spake-- "Since ye and your priest refused to pray for me, I have prayed for myself, and the Lord hath heard me in my weakness, and made me strong enough to listen to the request of this good sister, Dorothea, and promise to fulfil it. Speak, sister Dorothea, what was your prayer?" So Dorothea advanced, weeping and wringing her hands-- "Ah, God! she could no longer be sub-prioress. She loved peace too much. But there were bad doings in the convent--she would say no more--only they must end. Therefore she had earnestly prayed her dear sister Sidonia to relieve her from the duties of office, and become sub-prioress in her stead." Here she loosed the veil, which differed from the others, by having a key embroidered in gold thereon--the abbess had two keys on her veil--and bound it on Sidonia, who had by this time risen from bed, taking Sidonia's veil for herself. Then leading the fatal sorceress forward, she said-- "Good mother and dear sisters--behold your sub-prioress!" Thereupon the abbess and the whole convent remained quite mute, so great was their horror. Then Sidonia asked-- "Have they aught to say against it? If so, let them speak." But they all remained silent and trembling, till at last the abbess murmured-- "Is this done with your free-will, Dorothea?" "Ah, yes, yes, truly," she answered. "I told you before with what earnest prayers I besought the dear sister to release me. God be thanked she has consented at last. Who can keep order and decorum so well throughout the convent?" Then the abbess spoke again-- "Sister Sidonia, I have no opposition to make, as you know full well. So, if the Prince, and the sheriff, our worthy superintendent, consent, you shall be sub-prioress. Yet first you must render an account of your strange doings this past night, for things were seen and heard in your chamber which could not have been accomplished without the help of the great enemy himself." Hereat Sidonia laughed as if she would die. She would tell them the whole trick. They all knew what a trouble to the convent was this Anna Apenborg from her curiosity--not once or twice, but ten times a day, running in and out with her chat and gossip. She had tried all means to prevent her, but in vain. Even in the middle of her prayers, the said Anna would come in to tell her what one sister was cooking, and another getting, or some follies even quite unfit for chaste ears. And that last night being very sick, she sent for the priest, upon which she heard Anna calling out from the window to the porter, "Will he come? will he come?" _Item_, she had then crept down to listen at the door. So after the priest went, notwithstanding all her weakness, she (Sidonia) determined to give her a good fright, and thus prevent her from spying and listening any more. Then she called Wolde, and bid her dance, while she muttered some words out of the cookery-book. But here Anna called out, "It is not true; there were _three_ danced. Where is the carl with the deep bass voice? Who could this be at that midnight hour, but the devil bodily himself?" At this, Sidonia laughed louder than before. It was her cat--her own cat, who was springing about the room, because for divers reasons she had put little red hose on him. On this she stoops under the bed, seizes my cat by the leg, who howls (that was the deep bass voice), and flings him into the middle of the room, where all the nuns, when they beheld his strange jumps and springs in the little hose, burst out into loud laughter, in which the abbess herself could not refrain from joining. So as there was no evidence against Sidonia, and Anna Apenborg was truly held of all as a most troublesome chatterbox and spy, the inquiry ended. And with somewhat more friendliness, putting the best face on a bad matter, they accepted Sidonia for their sub-prioress. CHAPTER V. _How Sidonia wounds Ambrosia von Guntersberg with an axe, because she purposed to marry--And prays the convent porter, Matthias Winterfeld, to death--For these, and other causes, the reverend chaplain refuses to shrive the sorceress, and denounces her publicly from the altar_. Sidonia's first act, as may easily be imagined, was to dismiss the priest; and for this purpose she wrote him a letter, saying that he must never more presume to set foot within the cloister, for if old ice-grey mothers were not safe from him, how could she and the other maidens hope to escape? If he disobeyed her orders, she would summon him before the princely consistorium, where strange things might be told of him. So the reverend David consented right willingly, and never saw the nuns except on Sundays in the chapel, but Sidonia herself never appeared in the nuns' choir. She gave Dorothea many excellent and convincing reasons for her absence. (But in my opinion, it was caused by hate and abhorrence of the sacrament and the holy Word of God; for such are a torment and a torture to the children of the devil, even as the works of the devil are an abomination to the children of God.) When, however, the report came, that the reverend David was indeed betrothed to Barbara Bamberg, Sidonia presented herself once in the choir, kneeled down, and was heard to murmur, "Wed if thou wilt, that I cannot hinder; but a child thou shalt never hold at the font!" And truly was the evil curse fulfilled. Meanwhile the fear and the dread of her increased daily in the convent, for besides old Wolde, two other horrible hags were observed frequently going in and out of her apartments--true children of Satan, as one might see by their red, glowing eyes. With these she practised many horrible sorceries, sometimes quarrelled with them, however, and beat them out with the broom-stick; but they always came back again, and were as well received as ever. Then she had strifes and disputes with every one who approached her, and was notorious through all the courts of justice for her wrangling and fighting, in particular with her brother's son, Otto of Stramehl, for she sued him for an _alimentum_ pension, and also demanded that the rents of her two farm-houses in Zachow should be paid her, according to the sum to which they must have accumulated during the last fifty years. But he answered, she should have no money; why did she not live at her farm-houses? He knew nothing of the rents, the whole matter was past and forgotten, and she had no claim now on him, and so every month she wrangled in the courts about this business. _Item_, she fought with Preslar of Buslar, because, being a feudal vassal of the Borks', she required him to kiss her hand, which he refused; then her dog having strayed into his house, she accused him of having stolen it. _Item_, she fought with the maid who acted as cook in the convent kitchen, and said she never got a morsel fit to eat. And the said maid (I forget her name now) having salted the fish too much one day, she ran after her with a broom-stick--once, indeed, beat her so severely, that she was lame her life long after. But worse than the fish-salting was the white kerchief which the maid wore. For people, she said, might take her at a distance to be one of the honourable convent ladies, therefore she must wear a coloured one. This the maid would not do, so she was soon brought to an untimely end also, along with all others who displeased her. These things, and many more, came out upon her trial, but for divers reasons I must pass them over. All her notes, messages, and letters, she entrusted to the porter, Matthias Winterfeld, who was often sent, may be five times a week, by her to Stargard. But he dared not remonstrate, or she would have struck him with the broom-stick. However, all this is nothing in comparison with the way she treated the unfortunate nuns. The younger and prettier they were, so much the more she boxed, beat, and martyred them, even striking them with the broom-stick. And if they ever smiled or seemed happy talking to one another, she abused and reviled them, calling them idle wantons, who thought of nothing but matrimony. None were permitted outside the convent gates, not even to visit their parents: they should not be flying back with their crumbs of gossip about brides and weddings, forsooth, and such-like improper thoughts. Neither should they go to the annual fair. She would go herself and buy everything for them she thought needful, only let them give her the gold. And out of deadly fear the poor maidens bore this tyranny long while silently; even the abbess feared to complain, so that Sidonia soon usurped the entire government of the convent. But the powder-mill broke out at last into vivid flames, as I shall narrate here. It was on this wise:--Amongst the novices was one beautiful young maiden, Ambrosia von Guntersberg by name. She was fifth daughter of old Ambrosius of Falkenwald, a little town near Jacobshagen. One day a young nobleman called Ewald von Mellenthin beheld her in her cloister habit. Think you he forgot her? No, he can never forget the maiden! One, two weeks pass over, but she has sunk deeper and deeper into his heart; at last he rose up and went to Falkenwald to her father, Ambrosius, asking her hand in honourable marriage. Now, the old man was well pleased, for he was poor, and had five daughters; so he bid the young noble write a letter to his daughter Ambrosia, which he would inclose in one from himself to her. But no answer arrived from the maiden (we may guess why, for Sidonia opened and read all the letters that came to the convent, before they were handed to their owners. Those that displeased her she burned; no doubt, therefore, the love-letter was the first in the flames). But the young noble grew impatient for an answer, and resolved to ride to Marienfliess. So he ties his good horse to a cross in the churchyard, walks straight up to the convent, and rings the bell. Immediately the old porter, Matthias, opened to him, with his hands covered with blood (for he was killing a fat ox for the nuns, close by); whereupon the noble lord prayed to speak a few words to the young novice Ambrosia von Guntersberg, at the grating; and in a little time the beautiful maiden appeared, tripping along the convent court (but Sidonia is before her). Ambrosia advanced modestly to the grating, and asked the handsome knight, "What was his pleasure?" who answered, "Since I beheld you in Guntersberg, dearest lady, my heart has been wholly yours; and when I saw how diligently and cheerfully you ruled your father's house during his sickness, I resolved to take you for my wife, if such were possible; for I need a good and prudent spouse at my castle of Lienke, and methinks no better or more beautiful could be found than yourself. Therefore I obtained your father's permission to open the matter to you in writing, and he inclosed my letter in one of his own; but you have neither answered one nor the other. Whereupon, in my impatience, I saddled my good horse, and rode over here to have an answer at once from your own beautiful lips." When Sidonia heard this, she grew black in the face with rage--"What! in her presence, before her very face, to dare to hold such language to a young maiden--a mere child--who knew nothing at all of what marriage meant. He must pack off this instant, or the devil himself should turn him out of the cloister." Meanwhile the young maiden took heart (for the handsome knight pleased her), and said, "Gracious Lady Prioress (Sidonia made them all call her Gracious Lady, as if she were a born princess), I am no more a child, as you say, and I know very well what marriage means." This boldness made the other so wroth that she screamed--"Wait! I will teach you what marriage is;" and she sprang on her to box her. But Ambrosia rushed through the side-door out into the court, Sidonia following; however, not being able to reach her, she seized up the axe with which the porter had been killing the ox, and flung it after her, wounding the poor maiden so in the foot that the red blood poured down over her white stockings, while the young lover, who could not break the grating, screamed and stamped for rage and despair. By the good mercy of God the wound was only slight, still the fair novice fell to the ground; but seeing Sidonia rushing at her again with the large butcher's knife which the porter had been using, she sprang up and ran to the grating, crying out to the noble, "Save me! save me!" And at her screams all the nuns threw up their windows, right and left, over the courtyard; but finding the young knight could not help her, she ran to the old porter, still screaming, "Save me! save me! she is going to murder me!" Now the fellow was glad enough to be revenged on Sidonia, for she had sent him running to Stargard for her late the night before, and the moment the ox was to be quartered, he was to be off there again at her command; so he rushed at the vile witch, and seizing her up like a bundle of old rags, pitched her against the wall with all his force, adding a right hearty curse; and there she lay quaking like an old cat, while the handsome young noble laughed loud from the grating. But she was up again soon, shook her dry, withered fist at the porter, and cried, "Ha! thou insolent churl, I will pray thee to death for this!" Whereupon she went off to her room, and locked herself up there, while the fair Ambrosia ran to the grating, and stretching out her little hands through the bars, exclaimed, "I am yours, dear knight; oh, take me away from this horrible hell!" This rejoiced my young noble heartily, and he kissed the little hands and lamented over her foot--"And was it much hurt? She must lift it up, and show him if the wound was deep." So she raised up the dainty foot a little bit, and then saw that her whole shoe was full of blood; but the old porter, who came by just then, comforted the handsome youth, and told him he would stop the blood directly, for the wound was but a trifle. Whereupon he laid a couple of straws over it, murmured some words, and behold, in a moment, the blood is staunched! Then the fair novice thanked him courteously, and prayed him to unlock the wicket, for she would go and stay a couple of hours with the miller's wife, while this young noble, to whom she had plighted love and troth, returned to her father's for a carriage to bring her home. After what had passed now, never more would she enter the cloister. But what happened? Scarcely had the good old porter unfastened the grating, and the young knight taken the fair girl in his arms, kissing her and pressing her to his heart (well Sidonia did not see him), when Matthias screamed out, "My God, what ails me?" and fell flat on the ground. At this the young knight left his bride, and flew to raise him up. "What could ail him?" But the poor old man can hardly speak, his eyes are turned in his head, and he gasped, "It was as if a man were sitting inside his breast, and crushing him to death. Oh, he could not breathe--his ribs were breaking!" The alarmed young noble then helped the poor creature to reach his room, which lay close by the wicket; and having laid him on the bed in care of his wife, and recommended him to the mercy of God, he returned to his own fair bride, to carry her off from this murder-hole, and place her in safety with the miller's wife. I may as well mention here that he and the beautiful Ambrosia were wedded in due time, and lived long in peace and happiness, blessed with many lovely children; for all the evil which Sidonia tried to bring upon them, as we shall hear, came to nought, through the mercy of the great God. But to return to the porter-on the third day he died; and during that time, day and night, Sidonia prayed, and was never seen but once. This was at the dividing of the salmon, when she threw up her window, and shaking her withered clenched hand at them, and her long white locks, threatened the nuns on their peril to touch the tail-piece-the tail-piece was hers. A general horror pervaded the convent now, in truth, when the death of the porter was known. Anna Apenborg shut herself up, trembling, in her cell, and even good Dorothea began somewhat to doubt the virtues of the vile sorceress; for the corpse had a strange and unnatural appearance, so that it was horrible to look upon, by which signs it was easy to perceive that he had been prayed to death, as the fearful night-hag had threatened. I must notify these symptoms, for the corpses of many of Sidonia's victims presented the same appearances; as the corpse of the reverend David--_item_, Joachim Wedeln of Cremzow--_item/_, Doctor Schwalenberg of Stargard, and Duke Philip II., and lastly, the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf. Whether her brother's son, Otto of Stramehl, whom she was suspected also of having prayed to death, presented the like, I cannot say with certainty. At this same time also his princely Grace Duke Bogislaff XIII. expired, many say bewitched to death; but of this I have no proof, as the body had quite a natural aspect after death. Still he had just arranged to journey to Marienfliess himself, and turn out Sidonia, in consequence of the accusations of Sheriff Sparling and the convent chaplain, so that his sudden death looks suspicious; however, as the _medicus_, Dr. Nicolaus Schulz, pronounced, "Quod ex ramis venæ portæ Epatis et lienis exporrectis, iste adustus sanguis eo prosiliiset" (for he died by throwing up a black matter like his brothers); and further, as the manikin on the three-legged hare did not appear this time at the castle, I shall not lay the murder on Sidonia, to increase her terrible burden at the last day, though I have my own thoughts upon the matter. _Summa._-My gracious Prince died _suddenly_. Alas, woe! exactly like all his brothers; he was just sixty-one years old, seven months, and fifteen days, and a more God-fearing prince never sat on a throne. But my grief over the fate of this great Pomeranian house has carried me away from the corpse of the old porter. The appearances were these:-- 1. The face brown, green, and yellow, particularly about the _musculi frontales et temporales._ 2. The _musculi pectorales_ so swelled, and the _cartilago ensiformis_ so singularly raised, that the chest of the corpse touched the mouth. 3. From the _patella_ of the left leg to the _malleolus externus_ of the foot, all brown, green, and yellow, blended together. And on examination of the said corpse, Dr. Kukuck of Stargard affirmed and was ready to swear, that no one tittle of the signature of Satan was wanting thereupon. _Summa_.--The poor carl was buried with great mourning on the following Friday; and the reverend David preached a sermon thereupon, in which he plainly spoke of his strange and unnatural death, so that every one knew well whom he suspected. My hag heard of this instantly, and therefore determined to attend the sacrament on the following Sunday; for this end she despatched Wolde to the priest, bidding her tell him she had a great desire to attend the holy rite, and would go to confession that day after noon. At this horrid blasphemy a cold shudder fell upon the priest (and I trust every Christian man will feel the like as he reads this), for he now saw through her motive clearly, how she wanted to blind the eyes of the people as to the death of the porter, by this mockery of the holiest rites of religion. Besides, amongst the horrible abominations practised by witches, it is well known that having received the sacred bread, they privately take the same again from their mouth and feed their familiar therewith. And one day when the convent was quite still, Anna Apenborg, having crept down to peep through the key-hole of the refectory door, saw enough to confirm this general belief. No wonder then if the good priest stood long silent from horror; then he spake--"Tell the prioress it is well;" but when Wolde was gone, he threw himself upon his knees in his closet before God, and wrestled long in prayer, with tears and wringing of hands, that He would open to him what was his path of duty. About noon he became more composed, through the great mercy of the Lord; and bid his wife, Barbara, come to him, with whom he had lived now a year and a half in perfect joy, though without children. To her he disclosed the proposition of the horrible sorceress, and afterwards spake thus:-- "And because, dear Barbara, after earnest prayer to God, I have come to the resolution neither to shrive nor to give the Lord's body to this daughter accursed of hell, do not be surprised if a like death awaits me as happened to the porter, Matthias. When I die, therefore, dear wife, take thee another spouse and bear children. 'For the woman,' says the Scripture, 'shall be blessed through childbearing, so as she continues in faith, and love, and in holiness with sobriety' (I Tim. ii.). Thus thou wilt soon forget me." But the poor wife wept, and besought him to turn from his resolve, and not incur the vengeance of Sidonia. So he answered, "Weep not, or our parting will be more bitter; this poor flesh and blood is weak enough, still never will I blaspheme the holy rite of our Church, and 'cast pearls before swine' (Matt. vii.). And wherefore weep? At the last day they would meet again, to smile for ever in an eternity of joy. But could he hope for this if he were an unfaithful steward of the mysteries of God? No; but it was written, 'Death is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is thy sting? Hell, where is thy victory? God be thanked who giveth us the victory through Christ our Lord' (I Cor. xv.). In God therefore he trusted, and in His strength would go now to the confessional." She must let him go; the sexton would soon ring the bell, and he wished to pray some time alone in the church. Her tears had again disturbed his spirit, and made him weak. But he would use the holy keys of his office, which his Saviour had entrusted to him, to His glory alone, even if this accursed sorceress were to bring him to the grave for it. If the Lord will, He could protect him, but he would still do his duty. Will she not let him go now, that he may pray? And when she unwound her arms, he took her again in his, kissed her, sobbed, and wept; then tearing himself away, went out into the church by the garden entrance. Then the poor wife flung herself on a seat, weeping and praying, but in a little while in came Dorothea Stettin, saying, "That she was going to confession, and had no small silver for the offertory. Could she give her change of a dollar?" Then she asked about the other's grief; and having heard the cause, promised to go to the priest herself, and beseech him not to break the staff "Woe" over Sidonia. She went therefore instantly to the church, and found him on his knees praying behind the altar. Whereupon she entreated him, after her fashion, not to break the blessed peace--peace above all things. Meanwhile the sexton rung the bell, and Sidonia entered, sweeping the nave of the church to the altar, followed by seven or eight nuns. But when she beheld Dorothea come out at one side, and the priest at the other, and that not another soul had been in the church, she laughed aloud mockingly, and clapped her hands--"Ha! the pious priest, would he tell them now what he and Dorothea were doing behind the altar? The sisters were all witnesses how this shameless parson conducted himself." Though she spoke this quite loud for every one to hear, yet not one of the nuns made answer, but stood trembling like doves who see the falcon ready to pounce upon them. Yea, even as Dorothea came down the altar steps to take her place in the choir, my hag laughed loud again like Satan, and cried, "Ah! the chaste virgin! who meetest the priest behind the altar! Thou shameless wanton, the prioress shall teach thee fitter behaviour soon!" Poor Dorothea turned quite pale with fright, and began--"Ah! dear sister, only listen!" But the dragon snapped at her, with--"Dear sister, forsooth! What!--was she to bear this insolence? Let her know that the gracious Lady Prioress was not to be talked to as 'dear sister '!" Here the organ struck up the confession hymn; and the whole congregation being assembled in the church, Sidonia and the seven nuns ascended the steps of the altar, bowed to the priest, and then took their seats, whereupon the organ ceased playing. After a brief silence, the poor minister sighed heavily, and then spake--"Sidonia, after all that has been stated concerning you, particularly with regard to the death of the convent porter within these last few days, I cannot, as a faithful servant of God, give you either absolution or the holy rite of the Lord's Supper, until you clear yourself from such imputations before a princely consistorium." At this my hag laughed loud from the altar, crying, "Eh?--that was a strange story. What had she done to the convent porter?" _Ille_.--"Prayed him to death, as every one believed, and his appearance proved." _Hæc_ (still laughing).--"He must have lost his senses. Let him go home and bind asses' milk upon his temples; he would soon be better." _Ille_.--"She should remember where and what she spoke. Had she not herself said, she would pray the porter to death?" _Hæc_ (laughing yet louder).--"Oh! in truth, his little bit of mother-wit was quite gone. When and where had it been ever heard that one person could pray another to death? Then they might pray them to life again. Shall she try it with the porter?" _Ille_.--"Why then had she threatened it?" _Hæc_ (still laughing).--"Ah! poor man! she saw now he was quite foolish. Why had she threatened? Why, in anger, of course, because the vile churl had flung her against the wall. Had he never heard the poor people say to each other, 'May the devil take you;' but if one happened to die soon after, did people really think the devil had taken him? Why, he was as superstitious as an old spinning-wife." _Ille_.--"She had heard his resolve. This was no place to argue with her; therefore she might go her ways, for he would verily not give her absolution." So Sidonia rose up raging from the confessional, clenched her hand, and screamed out in the still church, so that all the people shuddered with horror--"Ye are all my witnesses that this worthless priest has denied me absolution, because, forsooth, he says I killed the convent porter. Ha! ha! ha! Where is it said in your Scriptures that one man can pray another to death? But the licentiousness of the vile priest has turned his brain, and he wallows in all most senseless superstitions. Did he not run after my old hag of a servant, as I myself saw; and this was not enough, but he must take Dorothea Stettin (the hypocritical wanton) behind the altar alone; and because I and these seven maidens discovered his iniquity, he refuses me the rites, and must have me before a princely consistorium to revenge himself. But wait, priest, I will drag the sheep's clothing from thee. Wait, thou shalt yet repent this bitterly!" After the horrible sorceress had so blasphemed, she departed as quickly as possible from the church, muttering to herself. The congregation remained silent from fear and terror; and the poor priest, who seemed more dead than alive, prayed the sexton to fetch him a cup of water, which he drank; and then being in some degree recovered, he stepped forth, and addressed the congregation thus:-- "Dear brethren and friends, after what ye have just heard, ye will not wonder if I am unable to receive confessions this day, or to administer the holy communion. Ye all know Dorothea Stettin, neither is my character unknown to you; therefore remember the words of St. Peter, 'The devil goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.' But we will resist him, steadfast in the faith. Meet me, then, tomorrow here at the altar, and ye shall hear my justification. After which, I will shrive those who desire to be partakers of the holy sacrament." And on the following morning, the holy minister of God preached from Matthew v. 11--"Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you, and say all manner of evil falsely against you, for My sake; be glad and comforted, for ye shall be well recompensed in heaven." And in this powerful sermon he drew a picture of Sidonia from her youth up; so that many trembled for him when they remembered her power, though they glorified God for the mighty zeal and courage that burned in his words. But when Sidonia heard of this sermon, she became almost frantic from rage. CHAPTER VI. _Dorothea Stettin falls sick, and how the doctor manages to bleed her--Item, how Sidonia chases the princely commissioners into the oak-forest._ Such a public humiliation the good virgin Dorothea Stettin found it impossible to bear. She fell sick, and repented with bitter tears of the trust and confidence she had reposed in Sidonia; finally, the abbess sent off a message to Stargard for the _medicus_, Dr. Schwalenberg. This doctor was an excellent little man, rather past middle age though still unmarried, upright and honest, but rough as bean-straw. When he stood by Dorothea's bed and had heard all particulars of her illness, he bid her put out her hand, that he might feel her pulse. "No, no;" she answered, "that could she never do; never in her life had a male creature felt her pulse." At this my doctor laughed right merrily, and all the nuns who stood round, and Sidonia's old maid, Wolde, laughed likewise; but at last he persuaded Dorothea to stretch out her hand. "I must bleed her," said the doctor. "This is _febris putrida_; therefore was her thirst so great: she must strip her arm till he bleed her." But no one can persuade her to this--strip her arm! no, never could she do it; she would die first: if the doctor could do nothing else, he may go his ways. Now the doctor grew angry. Such a cursed fool of a woman he had never come across in his life; if she did not strip her arm instantly, he would do it by force. But Dorothea is inflexible; say what he would, she would strip her arm for no man! Even the abbess and the sisterhood tried to persuade her. "Would she not do it for her health's sake; or, at least, for the sake of peace?" They were all here standing round her, but all in vain. At last the doctor, half-laughing, half-cursing, said-- "He would bleed her in the foot. Would that do?" "Yes, she would consent to that; but the doctor must leave the room while she was getting ready." So my doctor went out, but on entering again found her sitting on the bed, dressed in her full convent robes, her head upon Anna Apenborg's shoulder, and her foot upon a stool. As the foot, however, was covered with a stocking, the doctor began to scold. "What was the stocking for? Let him take off the stocking. Was she making a fool of him? He advised her not to try it." "No," Dorothea answered, "never would she strip her foot for him. Die she would if die she must, but that she could never do! If he could not bleed her through the stocking, he may go his ways." _Summa_.--As neither prayers nor threatening were of any avail, the doctor, in truth, had to bleed her through the stocking; and scarcely had he finished, when Sidonia sent, saying. "That she, too, was ill, and wished to be bled." And there lay my hag alone, in bed, as the doctor entered. She was right friendly. "And was it indeed true, that absurd fool Dorothea did not choose to be bled? Now he saw himself what a set of simpletons she had to deal with in the convent. No wonder that they all blackened her and belied her. She was sick from very disgust at such malice and absurdity. Ah, she regretted now not having married when she had the opportunity; it would have been better, and she had many offers. But she always feared she was too poor. However, her fortune was now excellent, for her sister had died without children, and left her everything--a very large inheritance, as she heard. But the dear doctor must taste her beer; she had tapped some of the best, and there was a fresh can of it on the table." But my doctor was too cunning not to see what she was driving at; besides, he had heard of her beer-brewing, so he answered-- "He never drank beer; but what ailed her?" "Ah, she didn't know herself, but she had a trembling in all her limbs. Would he not take a glass of mead, or even water? Her old servant should bring it to him." "No. Let her just put out her hand for him to feel her pulse." Instantly she stretched forth, not her hand alone, but her whole naked, dry, and yellow arm from the bed. Whereupon the doctor spoke-- "Eh? What should I bleed you for? The pulse is all right. In fact, old people never should be bled without serious cause; for at seventy or so, mind ye, every drop is worth a groschen." "What!" exclaimed Sidonia, starting up; "what the devil, do ye think I am seventy? Why, I am hardly fifty yet." "Seventy or fifty," answered the doctor, "it is all much the same with you women-folk." "To the devil with you, rude churl!" screamed Sidonia. "If you will not bleed me, I'll find another who will. Seventy indeed! So rude a knave is not in the land!" But my doctor goes away laughing; and as the ducal commissioners had arrived to try Sidonia's case, with the convent chaplain, he went down to meet them at Sheriff Sparling's, and these were the commissioners:-- 1. Christian Ludeck, state prosecutor; a brother of the priest's. 2. Johann Wedel of Cremzow. 3. Eggert Sparling, sheriff of Marienfliess. 4. Jobst Bork, governor of Saatzig. This Jobst was son to that upright Marcus whose wife, Clara von Dewitz, Sidonia had so miserably destroyed. For his good father's sake, long since dead, their Graces of Stettin had continued him in the government of Saatzig, for he walked in his father's steps, only he was slow of speech; but he had a lovely daughter, yet more praiseworthy than her grandmother, Clara of blessed memory, of whom we shall hear more anon. _Summa_.--The doctor found all the commissioners assembled in the sheriff's parlour. _Item_, Anna Apenborg and the abbess as witnesses, who deposed to all the circumstances which I have heretofore related; also, the abbess set forth the prayer of the sick Dorothea Stettin, that she might be restored to the sub-prioret out of which the false Sidonia had wickedly talked her, and now for thanks gave her insolent contempt and mocking sneers. Anna Apenborg further deposed, that, looking through the key-hole of the refectory door one day, she spied the wicked witch boring a hole in the wall; in this she placed a tun-dish, and immediately after, a rich stream of cow's milk flowed down into a basin which Sidonia held beneath, and that same day the best cow in the convent stopped giving milk, and had never given one drop since. And because the dairymaid, Trina Pantels, said openly this was witchcraft, and accused Sidonia and the old hag Wolde of being evil witches--for she was not a girl to hold her tongue, not she--her knee swelled up to the size of a man's head, and day and night she screamed for agony, until another old witch that visited Sidonia, Lena of Uchtenhagen, for six pounds of wool, gave her a plaster of honey and meal to put on the knee, and what should be drawn out of the swelling, but quantities of pins and needles; and how could this have been, but by Sidonia's witchcraft? [Footnote: However improbable such accusations may seem, numbers of the like, some even still more extraordinary, may be found in the witch trials of that age, by any one who takes the trouble of referring to them.] Many witnesses could prove this fact; for Tewes Barth, Dinnies Koch, and old Fritz were by, when the plaster was taken off. Then Sheriff Sparling deposed, that having smothered his bees lately, he sent a pot of pure honey to each of the nuns, as was his custom; but Sidonia scolded, and said her pot was not large enough, and abused him in a cruel manner about his stinginess in not sending her more. So, some days after, as he was riding quietly home to his house, across the convent court, suddenly the whole ground before him became covered with the shadows of bee-hives, and little shadows like bees went in and out, and wheeled about just as real bees do. Whereupon, he looked in every direction for the hives, for no shadows can be without a body, but not a hive nor a bee was in the whole place round; but he heard a peal of mocking laughter, and, on looking up, there was the wicked witch looking out at him from a window, and she called out-- "Ho! sir sheriff, when you smother bees again, send me more honey. A couple of pounds of the best--good weight!" And this he did to have peace for the future. Now the commissioners noted all this down diligently; but the state prosecutor shook his head, and asked the abbess-- "Wherefore she had not long ago brought this vile witch before the princely court?" To which she answered, sighing--. "What would that help? She had already tasted the vengeance of the wicked sorceress, and feared to taste it again. Well, night and day had she cried to God to free the convent from this she-devil, and often resolved to unfold the whole Satan's work to his Highness, though her own life would be perilled surely by so doing. But she was ready, as a faithful mother of the convent, to lay it down for her children, if, indeed, that could save them. But how would her death help these poor young virgins? For assuredly the moment Sidonia had brought her to a cruel end, she would make herself abbess by force, and this was such a dread to the sorrowing virgins, that they themselves entreated her to keep silence and be patient, waiting for the mercy of God to help them. For truly the power of this accursed sorceress was as great as her wickedness." Here answered Dr Schwalenberg-- "This power can soon be broken; he knew many receipts out of Albertus Magnus, Raimundus Lallus, Theophrastus, Paracelsus, &c., against sorcery and evil witches." This was a glad hearing to the state prosecutor, and he answered with a joyful mien and voice-- "Marry, doctor, if you know how to get hold of this evil hag, do it at once; we shall then bind her arms, so that she can make no signs to hurt us, and clap a pitch-plaster on her mouth, to stop the said mouth from calling the devil to her help; after which, I can easily bring her with me to Stettin, and answer for all proceedings to his Grace. Probably she is a-bed still; go back, and pretend that, upon reflection, you think it will be better to bleed her. Then, when you have hold of her arm, call in the fellows, whom the sheriff will, I am sure, allow to accompany you." "Yes, yes," cried the sheriff, "take twenty of my men with you, my good doctor, if you will." "Well, then," resumed the state prosecutor, "let them rush in, bind the dragon, clap the pitch-plaster on her mouth, and she is ours in spite of all the devils." "Right, all right," cried the doctor; "never fear but I'll pay her for her matrimonial designs upon me." And he began to prepare the plaster with some pitch he got from a cobbler, when suddenly the state prosecutor screamed out-- "Merciful God! see there! Look at the shadow of a toad creeping over my paper, whereon I move my hand!" He springs up--wipes, wipes, wipes, but in vain; the unclean shadow is there still, and crawls over the paper, though never a toad is to be seen. What a commotion of horror this Satan's work caused amongst the bystanders, can be easily imagined. All stood up and looked at the toad-shadow, when the abbess screamed out, "Merciful God! look there! look there! The whole floor is covered with toad-shadows!" Hereupon all the women-folk ran screaming from the room, but screamed yet louder when they reached the door, and met there Sidonia and her cat face to face. Round they all wheeled again, rushed to the back-door, out into the yard, over the pond, and into the oak-wood, without daring once to look behind them. But the men remained, for the doctor said bravely, "Wait now, good friends, patience, she can do us no harm;" and he murmured some words. But just as they all made the sign of the cross, and silently put up a prayer to God, and gathered up their legs on the benches, so that the unclean shadows might not crawl upon their boots, the horrible hag appeared at the window, and her cat in his little red hose clambered up on the sill, mewing and crying (and I think myself that this cat was her spirit Chim, whom she had sent first to the sheriff's house to hear what was going on; for how could she have known it?). _Summa_.--She laid one hand upon the window, the better to look in, and clenching the other, shook it at them, crying out, "Wait, ye accursed peasant boors, I, too, will judge ye for your sins!" But seeing her cousin, Jobst Bork, present, she screamed yet louder--"Eh! thou thick ploughman, hath the devil brought thee here too? Art thou not ashamed to accuse thy own kinswoman? Wait, I will give thee something to make thee remember our relationship!" And as she began to murmur some words, and spat out before them all, the state prosecutor jumped up and rushed out after the women, and Sheriff Sparling rushed out after him, and they never stopped or stayed till both reached the oak-wood. But Jobst said calmly, "Cousin, be reasonable; it is my duty!" My doctor, however, wanted to pay her off for the marriage business, so he seized a whip with which Sheriff Sparling had been thrashing a boor, and hurrying out, cried, "I will make her reasonable! Thou old hag of hell! here is the fit marriage for thee!" and so whack, whack upon her thin, withered shoulders. Truly the witch cried out now in earnest, but began to spit at the same time, so that the doctor had given but four strokes when the whip fell from his hand, and he tottered hither and thither, crying, "O Lord! O Lord!" At this the sorceress laughed scornfully, and mocking his movements, cried out likewise, "O Lord! O Lord!" and when the poor doctor fell down flat upon the earth like the old porter and others, she began to dance, chanting her infernal psalm:-- "Also kleien und also kratzen, Meine Hunde und meine Katzen" And the cat in his little red hose danced beside her. After which, she returned laughing to the convent to pray him to death, while the poor fellow lay groaning and gasping upon the pavement. None were there to help him, for the state prosecutor and Wedeln had made off to Stargard as quick as they could go, and Sheriff Sparling was still hiding in the bush. However, Jobst and the old dairy-woman helped him up as best he could, and asked what ailed him? to which he groaned in answer, "There seemed to be some one sitting inside his breast, and breaking the _cartilago ensiformis_ horribly asunder. Ah, God! ah, God! he was weak indeed! his hour was come; let them lay him in a coach, and carry him directly to Stargard." This was done as soon as the sheriff could be found; but my doctor's screams never ceased for three days, after which he gave up the ghost, and the corpse had the same appearance as that of the convent porter, which I have already noticed. Thus it happened with the wise! But Johann Wedeln fared little better, as we shall see; for after the doctor's strange death, he said openly everywhere, he would never rest till the accursed witch was burned. Anna Apenborg repeated this in the convent, and to Sidonia's maid, upon which the witch sent for Anna, and asked was the report true? And when the other did not deny it, she exclaimed, "Now for this shall the knave be contracted all his life long, and twist his mouth _thus_." Whereupon she mimicked how his shoulders would be drawn up to his ears, and twisted her mouth in horrible contortions, so that it was a shame and sin to look at her. And truly this misfortune fell upon him from that hour. And afterwards when he heard of her wickedness, from Anna Apenborg and others, and brought her to an account for her sorcery in Stettin, she made him bite the dust and lie in his coffin ere long, out of malice and terrible revenge, as we shall hear further on. CHAPTER VII. _How the assembled Pomeranian princes hold a council over Sidonia_ [Footnote: Note of Bogislaff XIV.--I was not present at this council, for I was holding my espousals at the time. (The Duke married the Princess Elizabeth von Schleswig Holstein in 1615, but left no heirs.)] _and at length cite her to appear at the ducal court._ When the state prosecutor, Christian Ludeck, reached Stettin with his appalling news, the Duke was seriously troubled in mind as to how he could best save the holy sisterhood, and indeed the whole land, from the terrible Satanic power and murderous malice of this cruel sorceress. So he summoned all the princes of his family to a convocation on a certain day, at Old Stettin; but when they arrived, his Grace was absent, for he had gone to Coblentz on some business, and here was the matter. His steward, Jeremias Schroter, was an unworthy agent, as his Grace heard; and when the time came for the poor people to get their oats or corn, he sent round and made them all give their receipts first, saying "They should have their corn after;" but when they went to bring it home, he beat them, and asked what they meant--he had their receipts: they were cheats, and should get no more corn from him. Now, a poor parson's widow came up all the way to Stettin, to complain of the steward to his Highness, who was shocked at such knavery, and determined to go down himself to Coblentz and make inquiries; for the steward swore that the people were liars, and had defamed him. The Duke therefore bid the chancellor, Martin Chemnitz, entertain his princely brothers until his return, which would not be before evening, and to show them his painting and sculpture galleries, and whatever else in the castle might please them. And now to show the good heart of his Grace, I must mention that, seeing the poor widow was tired with her six miles' walk, he bid her get up beside the coachman on the box of his carriage, and he would drive her himself to her own place. Meanwhile the young princes arrived, and the court marshal, the chancellor, the aforesaid state prosecutor, and other high officials, received them on behalf of his Highness. Doctor Cramer, _vice-superintendens_, my esteemed father-in-law, was also present--_item_, Doctor Constantius Oesler. They were first led into the picture-gallery by the chancellor (although Duke George cared little about such matters), where there was a costly collection of paintings by Perugino, Raphael, Titian, Bellini, &c.--_item_, statues, vases, coins, and medals, all of which his Grace had brought lately from Italy. Here also there was a large book, covered with crimson velvet, lying open, in which his Grace the Duke had written down many extracts from the sermons of Doctor Cramer and Mag. Reutzio, with marginal Latin notes of his own; for the Duke had a table in his oratory or closet in St. Mary's Church, that he might write down what pleased him, and a Greek and Latin Bible laid thereon. This book was, therefore, a right pleasing sight to Doctor Cramer, who stood and read his own sermons over again with great relish, while the others examined the paintings. When they grew weary, the chancellor conducted them to the library, which contained ten thousand books. But Duke Ulrich said, "Marry, dear brothers, what the devil is there to see here? Let us rather go down to the stables, and examine my new Danish horses; then come up to my quarters (for his Grace lived with his brother, Duke Philip), and have a good Pomeranian carouse to pass away the time; for as to these fooleries, which have cost our good brother such a mint of money, I would not give a dollar for them all." So they ran down the steps leading to the stables; but first he brought them into the hunting-hall, belonging to his quarter, which was decorated, and covered all along the walls with hunting-horns, rifles, cross-bows, and hunting-knives and pouches, with the horns of all sorts of animals killed in the chase. Whereupon Duke George said, "He was content to remain here--the horses he could see on the morrow." So he sat down by the wine-flask, which lay there already upon the table; and while Duke Ulrich was trying to persuade him to come to the stables, saying he could have the wine-flask after, the door opened, and his Highness Duke Philip unexpectedly entered the apartment. He embraced all his dear brothers, and then, turning to Duke Francis, the bishop, said, "Tell me, dear Fra (so he always called him, for his Grace spoke Italian and Latin like German), is there any hope of a christening at thy castle? Oh, say yes, and I will give thee a duchy for my godchild." But Bishop Francis answered mournfully, "No!" Then Duke Philip turned to another--"How say you, brother--mayhap there is hope of an heir to Wolgast?" "None, alas!" was the answer. "No, no!" exclaimed the Duke, "and there is no hope for me either--none!" Then he walked up and down the hall in great agitation, at last stopped, and lifting up his hands to heaven, cried, "Merciful God, a child, a child! Is my whole ancient race to perish? Wilt Thou slay us, as Thou didst the first-born of Egypt? Oh! a child, a child!" Here Doctor Cramerus advanced humbly, and said, "Your Highness should have faith. Remember what St. Paul says (Rom. iv.) concerning the faith of Abraham and Sarah; and Abraham was a hundred years old, whereas your Highness is scarce forty, therefore why despair of the mercy of God? Besides, many of his brothers were still unwed." Hereat his Grace stood silent, and looked round at his dear brothers; but Duke George exclaimed, "You need not look at me, dear brother, for I mean never to marry" (which, indeed, was the truth, for he died some short time after at Buckow, whether through Sidonia's witchcraft I know not, at the age of thirty-five years, and unmarried. One thing, however, is certain, that his death was as strange as the others; for in seven days he was well, sick, dead, buried). [Footnote: There was formerly a Cistercian monastery at Buckow, in the chapel of which still hangs a picture of this Prince. Like most of his race, the face is in the highest degree unmeaning; indeed, nothing more can be said of him than that he was born and died.] _Summa_.--His Highness first excused himself to his illustrious brothers for his absence, and related the cause, how his knave of a steward had been oppressing the poor, whereupon he determined to go himself and avenge their injuries; for a prince should be the father of his people, and it was a blessed work, the Scripture said, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction (James i. 27). So he hid himself in a little closet, where he could hear everything in the widow's house, and then bid her send for the steward; and when he came, the widow asked for her corn, as usual, but he said, "She must give him the receipt first, and then she might have it;" upon which she gave him the receipt, and he went away. Then the Duke bid the widow send a peasant and his cart for the corn; however, the old answer came back--"She was a cheat--what did she mean? He had her receipt in his hand." Upon this the Duke drove himself to the knave, and made him, in his presence, pay down all the arrears of corn to the widow; then he beat him black and blue, for a little parting remembrance, and dismissed him ignominiously from his service. After this he had thoughts of driving round to visit Prechln of Buslar, for the rumour was afloat that Sidonia had bewitched his little son Bartel, scarcely yet a year old, and made him grow a beard on his chin like an old carl's, that reached down to his little stomach. But as his dear brothers were waiting for him, his Grace had given up this journey, particularly as he wished to hear their opinions without delay as to what could be done to free the land from this evil sorceress Sidonia. Hereupon he bade Christian Ludeck, the state prosecutor, to read the proceedings at Marienfliess from his notes. As he proceeded to read the Acta, the listeners crossed and blessed themselves; at last Duke Francis, the bishop, spake--"Did I not say well, when years ago, in Oderkrug, I prayed our father of blessed memory to burn this vile limb of Satan for a terrible example? But my good brother Philip sided against me with my father, and he was deemed the wiser. Who is the wiser now, I wonder--eh?" Then Duke Philip asked Dr. Cramer, "What he thought of the matter as _theologus_?" who answered, "Your Grace must spare me; I will accuse no one, not even Sidonia, for though such things appear verily to be done by the help of the devil, yet had they no proof, seeing that no _medicus_ had hitherto dissected any one of the _cadavera_ which it was avowed Sidonia had bewitched to death." Hereupon Dr. Constantius spake that he had already, by legal permission, dissected the body of his colleague, Dr. Schwalenberg, and delivered over the _visum repertum_ to his Grace's chancellor. Then he described the appearances, which were truly singular, particularly that of the _cartilago ensiformis_. _Item_, concerning the _valvulae tricuspidales_, through which the blood falls into the heart. They were so powerfully contracted that the blood was forced to take another course, for which reason, probably, the corpse seemed so dreadfully discoloured. _Item_, the _vena pulmonalis_ had burst, from which cause the doctor had spit blood to the last. And lastly, the _glandulae sublinguales_ were so swollen that the tongue could not remain in the mouth. Such a death was not natural; that he averred. But whether Sidonia's sorcery had caused it, or it were sent as a peculiar punishment by God, that he would not say; he agreed with the excellent Dr. Cramer, and thought it better to accuse no one. "Now by the cross!" cried Duke Francis, "what else is it but devil's work? But the lords were very lukewarm, and resolved not to peril themselves; _that_ he saw. However, if his brother, Duke Philip, permitted the whole princely race to be thus bewitched to death, he would have to answer for it at the day of judgment. He prayed him, therefore, for the love of God, to send for the hag instantly, and drag her to the scaffold." Hereat Duke Philip sank his head upon his arm, and was silent a long space. But the state prosecutor gave answer--"Marry! will your Episcopal Highness then take the trouble to tell us, who is to seize the hag? I will do it not, and who else will? for, methinks, whoever touches her must needs be sore tired of life." "If no one else will," returned the bishop, "my Camyn executioner, Master Radeck, will surely do it, for he never feared a witch; besides, he knows all their _arcana_." Meanwhile, as Duke Philip still sat in deep thought, and played with a quill, the door opened, and a lacquey entered with a message from the noble Prechln of Buslar, requesting an _audienza_ of his Grace. He had an infant in his arms which a wicked witch had prayed to death, and the child had a beard on it like an old man, so that all in the castle were terrified at the sight. His Grace Duke Philip instantly started up. "Merciful God! is it true?" waved his hand to the lacquey, who withdrew, and then walked up and down, exclaiming still, "Merciful God! what can be done?" "Torture! burn! kill!" cried Duke Francis, the bishop "and to-morrow, if it be possible. I shall send this night for my executioner! trust to him. He will soon screw the soul out of the vile hag; take my word for it." "Ay! torture! burn! kill!" cried also the state prosecutor, "and the sooner the better, gracious master. For God's sake, no mercy more!" Here the door opened, and Prechln of Buslar entered, pale as the infant corpse that lay upon his arms. This corpse was dressed in white with black ribbons, and a wreath of rosemary encircled the little head; but, what was strange and horrible, a long black beard depended from the infant's chin, which the wind, as the door opened, blew backward and forward in the sorrowing father's face. After him came his wife, wringing her hands wildly from grief, and an old serving-maid. Truly the whole convocation shuddered at the sight, but Bishop Francis was the first to speak-- "And this is no devil's work?" he exclaimed. "Now, by my faith, ye and your wise doctors are fools if ye deny this evidence. Come nearer, poor fellow; set the corpse of your child down, and tell us how it came to pass. We had heard of your strange affliction, and just spoke thereon as you entered. Ha! the sorceress cannot escape us now, methinks." Now, when the mourning father began to tell the story, his wife set up such a weeping and lamentation, and the old nurse followed her example after such a lugubrious fashion, that their lordships could not hear a word. Whereupon his Grace Duke Philip was obliged earnestly to request that the women should keep silence whilst Prechln of Buslar spoke. I have already mentioned what grudge Sidonia had against him, because he refused to acknowledge himself her feudal vassal by kissing her hand; also, how she accused him afterward of stealing her dog. This the poor knight related now at length, and with many tears, and continued-- "During the strife between them, she one day spat upon both his little sons, and the eldest, Dinnies, a fine fellow of seven years old, who was playing with a slipper at the time under the table, died first. But the accursed witch had stepped over to the cradle where his little Bartholomew lay sleeping, while this old nurse, Barbara Kadows, rocked him, and murmuring some words, spat upon him, and then went away, cursing, from the house. So the spell was put upon both children that same day, and Dinnies took sick directly, and in three days was a corpse; but on his little Memi first grew this great black beard which their lordships all saw, and then he likewise died, after crying three days and three nights in horrible torture." The old nurse confirmed all this, and said-- "That when the horrible hag knelt down by the cradle to blow upon the child, she turned up her eyes, so that nothing but the whites could be seen. Ah! what a wicked old hag that could not spare a child like that, and could put such an old man's beard on its little face." Then Duke Philip asked the knight if he had accused Sidonia of the witchcraft, and what had she answered? "Ah yes, he had done so, but by letter, for he feared to go to Marienfliess, lest it might happen to him as to others who met her face to face, and his messenger brought back a letter in answer, by which their lordships could see how her arrogance equalled her wickedness," and he drew forth her letter from his bosom, and handed the same to his Highness. Now Bishop Francis would have prevented his brother touching the letter, but Duke Philip had a brave heart, and taking it boldly, read aloud as follows:-- "SIDONIA, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, PRIORESS OF THE NOBLE CONVENT OF MARIENPLIESS, LADY AND HEIRESS OP THE LANDS AND CASTLE OF STRAMEHL, LABES, REGENWALD, WANGERIN, AND OTHERS--GREETING." "GOOD FRIEND AND VASSAL," "Touching your foul accusation respecting your two brats, and my bewitching them to death, I shall only say you must be mad. I have long thought that pride would turn your brain: now I see it has been done. If Bartel has got a beard, send for soap and shave him. As to yourself, I counsel you to come to Marienfliess to old Kathe, she knows how to turn the brain right again with a wooden bowl. Pour hot water therein, three times boiled, set the bowl on your head, and over the bowl an inverted pot; then, as the water is drawn up into the empty pot, so will the madness be drawn up out of your brain into the wooden bowl, and all will be right again. It is a good receipt; I counsel you to try it. She only desires you to kiss her hand in return. Such is the advice of your feudal lady and seigneuress, "SIDONIA BORK." His Highness had hardly finished reading the letter, when Bishop Francis cried out-- "What the devil, brother, hast thou made the murderous dragon a prioress?" But his Highness knew nothing of it, and wondered much likewise. Whereupon the state prosecutor told them how it came about, and that poor Dorothea Stettin had been talked out of her situation by the dragon, as was all here to be seen set down in full in the indictment; but, as the case was not now under discussion, he would pass it over, although great quarrels and scandal prevailed in the convent in consequence, and poor Dorothea lay sick, earnestly desiring to be restored to her prioret. Bishop Francis now grew yet more angry-- "Give the witch a prioret in hell," he cried. "What would his dear brother do, now that the proofs were in his hands?" To which Duke Philip answered mildly-- "Dear Fra, think on my symbol, C. & R." (that is, _Christo et Reipublicae_, for Christ and the State). "Let us not be over-hasty. Suppose that Dr. Constantinus should first dissect this poor infant, and see what really caused its death." Thereat the doctor plunged his hand in his pocket, to draw forth his case of instruments, but the mother screamed out, and ran to tear the child from him--"No, no; they should never cut up her little Memi!" _Item_, the maid screamed out, "No, no; she would lose her life first!" _Item_, the father stood still and trembled, but said never a word. What was to be done now? His Grace repented of his hastiness, and at last said-- "Well, then, friends, let the doctor examine the infant externally, look into its mouth, &c." And when the parents consented to this, his Grace prayed them gently to withdraw with him into another apartment while the examination was made, as such a sight might give them pain. To this also they consented, and his Grace led the way to another hall (giving a sign privately to the doctor to do his business properly), where a splendid collation was served. After which, just to detain them longer, his Grace brought them to visit the picture-gallery. _Summa_.--When they returned, the dissection had been accomplished, at which sight the parents and the maid screamed; but his Grace confuted them, saying-- "That the ends of justice required it. He would now take the case into his own hands, and they might return quietly to their own castle and bury their infant, who would sleep as well dissected as entire." Having at last calmed them somewhat, they kissed his hand and took their leave. Meanwhile the two young Dukes, Ulrich and George, finding the time hang heavy, had slipped away from the council-board, and gone down to the ducal stables. When his Highness noticed their absence, he sent a page bidding them return and give their opinion in council as to what should be done next. But they sent back an answer--"Let the lords do what they pleased; as for them they were off to the chase, seeing it was pleasanter to hunt a hare than a witch." Now Bishop Francis stormed in earnest. "Marry, some folk would not believe in witchcraft, till they stood with their heels turned toward heaven; and here these idle younkers must needs ride off to the chase when the life and death of our race hangs in the balance. I say again, brother, torture, burn, kill, and as soon as may be." But Duke Philip still answered mildly-- "Dear Fra, the _medicus_ hath just pronounced that the corpse of the poor child presents no unnatural appearances; and as to the beard, this may just as well be a _miraculum Dei_ as a _miraculum damonis_, therefore I esteem it better to cite Sidonia to our court, and admonish her strenuously to all good." This course had little favour from Bishop Francis; but when the state prosecutor agreed with his Highness, and Dr. Cramerus praised so Christian and merciful a resolve, he was at last content, particularly as some one said (I forget who, but I rather think it was the chancellor, Martinus Chemnitz), that Mag. Joel of Grypswald gave it as his opinion that it would be a matter of trouble and danger to seize the witch, seeing that her familiar, the spirit Chim, was a mighty and strong spirit, and capable of taking great revenge on any who laid hand upon her; but that he, Mag. Joel, would do for him easily if he came in his way. This intelligence gave the bishop great comfort, and he instantly despatched a letter to Mag. Joel, bidding him come forthwith to Stettin, whilst the chancellor prepared a _Citationem realem sive personalem_ for Sidonia, which contained the following:-- "WE, PHILIP, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, &c., "Command thee, Sidonia von Bork, conventual and not prioress of the noble convent of Marienfliess, to appear before us, at our court of Stettin, on the 15th day of July, at three of the clock, to answer for the evil deeds whereof thou art accused, under punishment of banishment, forfeiture, and great danger to thy body and life. Against such, therefore, take thou heed. "Signatum, Old Stettin, 10th July 1616. "PHILIPPUS, _manu sua_." CHAPTER VIII. _Of Sidonia's defence--Item, how she has a quarrel with Joachim Wedel, and bewitches him to death_. At three of the clock on the appointed day, the grand Rittersaal (knights' hall) of the stately castle of Old Stettin was crowded with ministers, councillors, and officials, who had met there by command of their illustrious mightinesses, Duke Philip, Prince and Lord of Stettin, and Francis, Bishop of Camyn. Amongst the nobles assembled were Albert, Count of Eberstein, Lord of Neugarten and Massow; Eustache Flemming, hereditary Grand Marshal; Christoph von Mildenitz, privy councillor and dean of the honourable chapter of Camyn; Caspar von Stogentin, captain at Friedrichswald; Christoph von Plate, master of the ceremonies; Martin Chemnitz, Chancellor of Pomerania; Dr. Cramer, my worthy lord father-in-law, _vice-superintendens_; Dr. Constantius Oesler, _medicus_; Christian Ludeck, attorney-general; Mag. Joel of Grypswald, and many others. These all stood in two long rows, waiting for their princely Graces. For it was rumoured that Sidonia had already arrived with the fish-sellers from Grabow, which, indeed, was the case; and she had, moreover, packed seven hogsheads of her best beer on the waggon along with her, purposing to sell it to profit in the town; but the devil truly got his profit out of the said beer, for by it not only our good town of Stettin, but likewise the whole land, was nearly brought to ruin and utter destruction, as we shall hear further on. _Summa_.--When all the afore-named were ranged in rank and order, the great doors of the hall were flung wide open, and Duke Philip entered first. Every one knows that he was small, delicate, almost thin in person, pale of face, with a moustache On his upper lip, and his hair combed _à la Nazarena_. [Footnote: Divided in the centre, and falling down straight at each side, as in the pictures of our Saviour.] He wore a yellow doublet with silver-coloured satin sleeves, scarlet hose trimmed with gold lace, white silk stockings, and white boots, with gold spurs; round his neck was a Spanish ruff of white point lace, and by his side a jewel-hilted sword; his breast and girdle were also profusely decorated with diamonds. So his Highness advanced up the hall, wearing his grey beaver hat, from which drooped a stately plume of black herons' feathers, fastened with an aigrette of diamonds. This he did not remove, as was customary, until all present had made their obeisance and deferentially kissed his hand. Duke Francis followed in his episcopal robes, with a mitre upon his head, and a bishop's crook of ivory in his hand. The other young dukes, Ulrich, George, and Bogislaus, remained cautiously away. [Footnote: Note of Bogislaff XIV.--Yes; but not out of fear. I was celebrating my espousals, as I have said.] And the blood-standard waved from the towers, and the princely soldatesca, with all the officers, lined the castle court, so that nothing was left undone that could impress this terrible sorceress with due fear and respect for their illustrious Graces. And when the order was given for Sidonia to be admitted, the two Princes leaned proudly on a table at the upper end of the hall, while the assembled nobles formed two long lines at each side. Three rolls of the drum announced the approach of the prisoner. But when she entered, accompanied by the lord provost, in her nun's robes and white veil, on which the key of her office was embroidered in gold, a visible shudder passed over her frame; collecting herself, however, quickly, she advanced to kiss their Graces' hands, but Bishop Francis, after he had drawn his _symbolum_ with chalk before him on the table, namely, H, H, H, that is, "Help, helper, help," cried out, "Back, Satan! stir not from thy place; and know that if thou shouldst attempt any of thy diabolical sorceries upon my dear lord and brother here (as for me, this honourable, consecrated, and priestly robe saves me from thy power) thou shalt be torn limb from limb, and thy members flung to feed the dogs, while thou art yet living to behold it, accursed, thrice-accursed witch!" And his Grace, in his great rage against her, struck the table with his ivory crook, so that he broke a bottle filled with red ink which stood thereon, and the said ink (alas! what an evil omen) poured down upon Duke Philip's white silk stockings, and stained them red like blood. Meanwhile Sidonia exclaimed, "What! is there no leech here to feel the pulse of his Serene Highness? Surely the dog-days, that we are in the middle of, have turned his brain completely. Any little bit of mother-wit he might have had is clean gone. What! she had scarcely entered--knew not yet of what she was accused, and she was 'Satan!' 'a thrice-accursed witch!' who was to be cut up into little bits to feed dogs! Had any man ever heard the like? Would the nobles of Pomerania, whom she saw around her, suffer one of their own rank--a lady of castles and lands--to be thus handled? She called upon them all as witnesses, and after the _audienza_ a notary should be summoned to note all down, for she would assuredly appeal to the states of the kingdom, and bring her cause before the Emperor." Hereupon Duke Philip interposed--"Lady, our dear brother is of a hasty temperament; yet you can scarce wonder at his speech, or take it ill, when you consider the terrible evils which you have brought upon our ancient and illustrious race. However, as an upright and good prince must judge the cause of his subjects before his own, I shall first inquire what caused the sudden illness of the sheriff, Eggert Sparling, and of the abbess, Magdalena, that time they brought my father's letter to you?--that letter which you said was a forgery, and flung into the fire." _Illa._--"What caused it? How could she remember? It was a long time ago; but so far as she recollected, they came in when she was brewing beer or cooking sausages, and she opened the window to admit fresh air; before this window they both sat and talked, to be out of the smell of the cooking; could they not have got rheumatism by such means? Let his Grace ask the doctors did it require witchcraft to give a man the rheumatism, who sat in a draught of air?" _The Duke_.--"But both were cured again as quickly as they had taken it." _Illa_.--"Ah, yes! She would have done her best to cure even her greatest enemy, for the holy Saviour had said, 'Bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you; pray for them that persecute you.' To such commands of her Lord she had ever been a faithful servant, and therefore searched out of her cookery-book for a _sympatheticum_, but for thanks, lo, now what she gets! Such was the way of this wicked world. Perhaps my gracious lord would like to know of the _sympatheticum_; she would say it for him, if he wished." "Keep it to yourself, woman," roared Duke Francis, "and tell us why you burned my father's letter?" _Illa_.--"Because, in truth, she deemed it a forgery. How could she believe a knave who had already deceived his own gracious Prince? For did not this base sheriff appropriate to his own use eleven mares, one hundred sheep, sixteen head of cattle, and forty-two boars, all the property of his Highness, to the great detriment of the princely revenue. _Item_, at the last cattle sale he had put three hundred florins into his own bag, and many more evil deceits had this wicked cheat practised." "Keep to the question," cried Duke Philip, "and answer only what you are asked. What was that matter concerning the priest which caused you to complain of him to our princely consistorium?" _Illa._--"Ay! and no notice taken, though it was a scandal that cried to Heaven, how this licentious young carl was admitted into the convent as chaplain, when the regulations especially declared that an honourable _old_ man should hold the office. She prayed, therefore, that another priest might be appointed." Hereat my worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer, said, "Good lady, be not so hasty; from all we have heard, this priest is a right worthy and discreet young man." _Illa._--"Right worthy and discreet, truly! as her old maid could testify; or the abbess, with whom he locked himself up; or Dorothea Stettin, with whom he was discovered behind the holy altar. Fie! The scandal that such a fellow should be convent chaplain! and that a Christian government should suffer it!" (spitting three times on the ground.) _The Duke_.--"The inquiry concerning him was pending. For what cause had she forced herself into the sub-prioret?" _Illa._--"She! Forced herself! Forced herself into the sub-prioret! What devil had invented this story? Why, the abbess and the whole convent were witness that she was forced into it; for as Dorothea Stettin was ashamed after that business behind the altar when she was discovered with the priest--besides, was a weak, silly thing at all times--she had consented to relieve her from the sub-prioret at her (Dorothea's) earnest supplication and prayer." _The Duke_.--"Wherefore had she treated the novices with such cruelty, and run at them with axes and knives, to do them grievous bodily harm?" _Illa._--"They were a set of young wantons, always gossiping about marriage and loons, therefore she had held a strict hand over them, which she would not deny; particularly as if any of the nuns fell into sin, the law decreed that she was to be beheaded. Was she therefore wrong or right? Truly the abbess said nothing, for she was as bad as any of them, and had locked herself up with the priest." _The Duke._--"What caused the sudden death of the convent porter?" _Illa_.-"What! was this, too, laid on her as a crime? Why, at last, if any one died in Wolgast, or another in Marienfliess during her absence, she would have to answer for it." _The Duke_.--"But Dr. Schwalenberg had died in the self-same way, and as suddenly--tumbling down dead upon the pavement." _Illa_.--"The knave was so drunk when he ran after her with a horsewhip to beat her, that he tumbled down on the stones; and mayhap the shock killed him, as it did that other knave who flung her against the wall; or that he got a fit; for such would have been a just judgment of God on him, as it is written (Malachi iii. 5), 'I will be a swift witness for the widow and the orphan.' Ah! truly she was a poor orphan, and the just God had been her swift witness; for which, all praise and glory be to His name for ever" (weeping). Here Christoph Mildenitz, canon of Camyn, exclaimed, "Marry, thou wicked viper, I have seen the corpse of this same Schwalenberg myself, and every one, even the physicians, said that he had died no natural death." _Illa_.--"Must the fat canon put in his word now? Ha! this was her thanks for the gloves she had knit him, and which he wore at this present moment, for she knew them, even at that distance, by the black seams round the thumbs. But so it was ever: she had no greater enemies than those whom she had done kindness to." _The Duke_.--"Prechln von Buslar also accused her of having brought his two sons to death, and making a long man's beard grow upon the little Bartel." _Illa_ (laughing).--"Ah! it is easy to see by your Grace that we are in the dog-days. Your Highness must pardon my mirth; but who could help it? Merciful God! are Thy wonders, sent to fright the world and turn men from sin, to be called devil's sorceries! To what a pass is the world come! Has your Highness forgotten all history? Know you not that God gives many signs to His people, and speaks in wonders? Yet, when did men, till now, say that these signs were of the devil alone, and persecute and destroy helpless women by reason of them? Speak, gracious Duke--speak, ye noble lords--have ye not tortured, and burned, and put to death weak and innocent women without number for these things, and must ye needs now seek my life? And when was it ever known, till now, that nobles sat in judgment upon one of their own rank--a lady of as high blood and proud descent as any of ye here--for old wives' tales like these, and children's fooleries? Speak! Whoso saith I lie, let him step forward and convict me." [Footnote: It was a fact that the persecution of witches had risen at this period almost to a mania.] There was a dead silence in the hall when she had ended, and even Duke Philip looked down ashamed, for he could not but acknowledge that she spoke the truth, however unwillingly he believed aught the vile sorceress uttered. At last Bishop Francis spake--"Why then didst thou blow upon the children of Prechln of Buslar, if it were not to bewitch them to death?" Whereupon the witch answered scornfully--"If that could kill, then were we all dead long since, for the wind blows on us every minute, and we blow upon our hot broth to cool it, yet who dies thereof? How could a bishop be so sunk in superstition? As to Prechln of Buslar, no wonder if God had smitten him for his pride and arrogance, as it is said (Luke i. 51), 'He scatters such as are proud of heart,' for, though her feudal vassal, he had refused to do her homage; therefore here was no witch-work, but only God's work, testifying against sinful haughtiness and pride. "Moreover, it was false that she had blown upon the children; the silly fool Prechln had imagined it all--nothing was too absurd for stupidity like his to believe; and what then? Can't people die but by witchcraft? Did St. Peter bewitch that covetous knave Ananias (Acts v.) when he fell down dead at his feet for having lied to the Holy Ghost? Let the honourable convocation answer her truly." _Summa_.--The end of all was (as we may imagine) that the cunning Satan was allowed to depart in peace, only receiving a wholesome admonition from his Highness Duke Philip, and another from my worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer. But what happened as she returned to her lodgment in the Rüdenberg Street? Behold Joachim Wedel of Cremzow, whom she had made contracted, sat at his window to enjoy the air, but the evil hag no sooner looked up and saw him than she began to mock him, twisting her mouth awry, even as he twisted his mouth. When he observed her, his face grew red with anger, and he cried out of the window, "Ha, thou accursed witch, I am not so help--help--help--helpless as thou thinkest; so do not twi--twi--twi--twist thy mouth at me that way." To which Sidonia only answered with the one word "Wait!" and passed on, but returned soon again with a notary and two witnesses (one was the landlord of the inn where she had left her beer), stepped up to the chamber where Joachim sat, and bid them take down that he had called her an accursed witch while she was quietly going along the street to her lodgment. Poor Wedel vainly tried to speak in his defence; the hag maintained her assertion, and prayed that the just God who brought all liars to destruction would avenge her cause, if it were His gracious will, for the Scripture said (Psalm v. 7), "I will destroy them that speak leasing." Therefore she left him and all her other enemies in the hand of God. He would take vengeance! And oh, horror! scarcely had she returned to her lodgment when the poor man began to scream, "There is some one sitting within my breast, and lifting up the breast-bone!" Thus he screamed and screamed three days and three nights long; no physician, not even Dr. Constantinus, could help him, and finally, when he died, his body presented the same appearances precisely as those of Dr. Schwalenberg and the convent porter, as the doctors who dissected him affirmed upon oath. He was a clever man, learned and well read, and left _Annales_ behind him, a work which this cruel witch caused to remain unfinished. And further, it was a strange thing (whether of witchcraft or of God, I cannot say) that except my gracious Duke Philip, almost every one present at this remarkable _colloquium_ died within the year; for example, Count Albert, Eustache Flemming, Caspar von Stogentin, Christoph von Mildenitz--all lay in their graves before the year was out. [Footnote: Some place the death of Joachim Wedel so early as 1606. The whole matter is taken, almost word for word, from the criminal records in the Berlin Library; and, according to Dähnert, the first question on the book concerned the death of this man. His, _Annales_ include the years from 1501 to 1606; they contain the whole history of that period, but the work has never been printed. Dähnert, however, vol. ii. Pomeranian Library, gives some extracts therefrom; also, in Franz Kock's "Recollections of Dr. John Bugenhagen," Stettin, 1817, we find this chronicle quoted.] CHAPTER IX. _How a strange woman (who must assuredly have been Sidonia) incites the lieges of his Grace to great uproar and tumult in Stettin, by reason of the new tax upon beer_. My gracious Prince will perhaps say, "But, Theodore, how comes it that this hag, who in her youth could not be brought to learn the catechism, quoted Scripture in her old days like a priest?" I answer--Serene Prince and Lord, that seems in my opinion because the evil witch found that Scripture, when not taught of God, can be made to serve the devil's purposes. For this reason she studied therein; not to make honey, but to extract poison, as your Grace may have perceived in her strifes with individuals, and even with the constituted authorities. Further, methinks, she must also have studied in history books, for how else could she have discoursed upon political matters so as to raise the whole population of Stettin into open revolt, as we shall soon see. However, I leave these questions undecided, and shall only state facts, leaving the rest for your Highness's judgment. The day following that on which Sidonia had been tried before the noble convocation (and she must have still been in the town, I think, for it was late in the previous evening when she bewitched Joachim Wedel), the priest of St. Nicholas read out after the sermon, before the whole congregation, the ducal order declaring that, from that date forward, the quart of beer, hitherto sold for a Stralsund shilling, should not be sold under sixteen Pomeranian pence. This caused great murmurs and discontent among the people; and when they came out of church they rushed to the inn, where Sidonia had been staying, to discuss the matter freely, and screamed and roared, and gesticulated amongst themselves, saying, "The council had no right to raise the price of beer; they were a set of rogues that ought to be hung," &c., and they struck fiercely on the table, so that the glasses rang. Just then an old hag came to the door, but not in a cloister habit. She had a black plaster upon her nose, and complained how she had hurt herself by falling on the sharp stones, which had put her nose out of joint. "People talked of this new decree--was it true that the poor folk were to pay sixteen Pomeranian pence for a quart of beer?--O God! what the cruelty and avarice of princes could do. But she scarcely believed the report, for she brewed beer herself better than any brewer in the land, and yet could sell the quart for eightpence, and have profit besides. Oh, that princes and ministers could rob the poor man so! ay, they would take the very shirt off his back to glut their own greed and covetousness. And what did they give their hard-earned gold for? To build fine houses for the Prince, forsooth, and fill them with fine pictures from Italy, and statues, as if he were a brat of a school-girl, and must have his dolls to play with." "What sort is your beer, old dame?" asked a fellow. "Marry, it must be strange trash, I warrant." _Illa_.--"No, no; if they would not believe her word, let them taste the beer. She wanted nothing further but to prove how the wicked government oppressed the poor folk; for she was a God-fearing woman, and her heart was filled with grief to see how the princes lately, in this poor Pomerania, squeezed the very life-blood out of the people," &c. Then she lifted up a barrel of beer upon the table (I have already said that Sidonia had brought some with her to sell), and invited the discontented people to taste it, which they were nothing loth to do, and soon broached the said barrel. Then, having tasted, they extolled her beer to the skies--"No better had ever been brewed." Now other troops of the discontented came pouring in from Lastadie, Wiek, &c., cursing, and swearing, and shouting--"The beer must not be raised; they would force the government to take off the tax. Would not their comrades join?" This was fine fun to the old hag, and she produced another barrel of beer, which the mob emptied speedily, and then began talking, shouting, screaming, roaring like flocks of wild geese; and when the old hag saw that they had got enough under their caps to make them quite desperate, she began-- "Was not her beer as good as any beer in the duchy?" "Ay, ay--better!" shouted the mob, "Where dost thou live, mother?" To this she gave no answer, but continued: "Yet this beer cost but eightpence a quart, by which they could see how the wicked and cruel government oppressed them. Oh, it was a sin that cried to Heaven, to see how princes and nobles scourged and skinned the poor folk. They swilled wine of the best, and plenty, in their own gorgeous castles, but grudged poor bitter poverty its can of beer! Shame on such a government!" "True, true!" shouted the mob; "she is right: we are scourged and skinned by these worthless nobles. Come, brothers, let us off to the council-hall, and if they will not take off the tax, we'll murder every soul of them." _Illa_.--"And be asses for their pains. Was that all they could do--_pray_ the mighty council, forsooth, to lower the tax? Oh, brave fellows! What! had they not the power in their own hands, if they would only be united? Had they never heard how the people of Anklam had, in former times, killed their rulers and governors, and then did justice to themselves? What right had prince, minister, or council to skin a people? They had all stout arms and brave hearts here, as she saw; _could they not right themselves?_--must they needs crouch for their own to prince or minister? Did she lie, or did she speak the truth?" Here the mob cheered and shouted, "True! true!" and they struck the table till the glasses broke, roaring, "She is right, brothers. Are we not strong? Can we not right ourselves? Why should we go begging to a council? May the devil take all the covetous, rich knaves, who drink the people's blood!" _Illa_.--"But may be they wanted a prince--eh? The prince was the shepherd, the council only the dog who bit the sheep as his master commanded. Eh, children? is not a prince a fine thing, to squeeze the sweat and life-blood out of ye, and turn it into gold for himself? For what are his riches but your sweat and blood, if ye reflect on it; and is it a sin to take your own? Methinks if all princes were killed or banished, and their goods divided amongst the people, ye would all have enough. Have ye not heard of that brotherhood who set all princes and governments at defiance for two hundred years, and lived like brothers amongst themselves, dividing all goods alike, so that they were called Like-dealers; and no beggar was found amongst them, for they had all things in common. [Footnote: These Like-dealers were the communists of the Middle Ages, and were for a number of years the plague of the northern seas; until at the beginning of the fifteenth century they were subdued, and many of them captured by the Dutch, who nailed them up in barrels, leaving an aperture for the head, at top, and then decapitated them. The best account of them is found in "Raumer's Historical Note-book," vol. ii. p. 19. And if any one wishes to see the result of communist teaching, they have only to study here the horrible excesses to which it leads. The communism of the apostolic age might have been suited to a period in which it would be difficult to say whether faith or love predominated most; but even then it by no means prevented the existence of extreme poverty, for we read frequently in the Acts and Epistles of the _collections_ made for the Christian churches. But in our faithless, loveless, selfish, sin-drowned century, such an attempt at community of goods would not only annihilate all morality completely, but absolutely degrade us back from civilisation and modern Catholicism into the rudest and most meagre barbarism. The apostles of such doctrines now must speak, though perhaps unconsciously, from the sole inspiration of Satan, like Sidonia. The progress of humanity is not to be furthered by such means. Let our merchants no longer degrade human beings into machines for their factories, nor our princes degrade them into automaton puppets for their armies, but of men make _living men_. And the strong energy, the stern will, the vital spiritual power that will thus be awakened, will and must produce the regeneration of humanity.] Wherefore can ye not be Like-dealers also? Are there not rich enough for ye to kill? And if ye are united, who can withstand you? Look at the dog and the cattle--how the poor stupid beasts let themselves be driven, and bit, and beaten, just because they are used to it; but, lo! if the cattle should all turn their horns against the dog and the shepherd, what becomes of my fine pair? So is it with the Prince and his council. Oh, if ye were only united! Fling off the parsons too, for they are prime movers of all your misery. Do they not teach you, and teach you from your youth up, that ye must have princes and priests? Eh, brothers, where is that written in the Scriptures? "Doth not St. Peter say (1st Epistle, chap, ii.), 'Ye are a royal priesthood'? What then! if ye are kings, princes, and priests yourselves, must ye needs pay for other kings, princes, and priests? Can ye not govern yourselves? can ye not pray for yourselves? In my opinion, yes! Doth not the same St. Peter likewise call ye 'a chosen people,' 'a people of inheritance;' but, I pray you, where is your inheritance?--poor beggars as ye are--to whom neither priest nor prince will give one can of beer. Ha! go, I tell you--take back your kingship, your priesthood, your inheritance. Become Like-dealers, brothers, even as the early Christians, who had all things in common, before the greed of priest or prince had robbed them of all. Like-dealers! Like-dealers! run, run--kill, slay, strike all dead, and never rest until ye drown the last priest in the blood of the last prince!" As the hag thus spoke, through the horrible inspiration of Satan, the passions of the mob rose to frenzy, and they rushed out and joined the bands in the streets, and the crowds that poured from every door; and as they repeated her words from one to the other the frenzy spread (for they were like oil to fire). But the hag with the black plaster on her nose, when she saw herself left alone in the chamber, looked out after them, and laughed, and danced, and clapped her hands. Now the Prince and court had withdrawn to Colbatz for safety, and a council was summoned in all haste and anxiety. The water-gate was barred likewise, to prevent a junction with the people of Lastadie and Wiek, but the townspeople, who had gathered in immense crowds, broke it in, and joining with the others, proceeded to storm the council-hall, where the honourable council were then sitting. They shouted, roared, menaced, and seizing the clerk, Claude Lorenz, in the chamber, murdered him before the very eyes of the burgomasters, and flung the body out of the window; then rushing down the steps again, proceeded along the corn-market, and by the high street into the horse-market, where they sacked three breweries from the roof to the cellar; and dragging out the barrels, staved in the bottom, and drank out of their hats and caps, shouting, roaring, singing, and dancing, while they swilled the good beer; so that the sight was a scandal to God and man. And the uproar waxed stronger and stronger throughout that whole night. Not a word of remonstrance or expostulation will the people listen to; they threaten to hang up the messengers of the honourable council, and show no respect even to a mandate from his Highness, under his own seal and hand, which a horseman brings them. They laugh, mock, fling it into the gutter, sack more breweries, and by ten of the clock, just as the citizens are going to church, they number ten bands strong. So my worthy father-in-law, Dr. Cramer, with the dean and archdeacon of St Mary's, stood upon the steps at the church-door as the bells rung, and the mob rushed by to sack more breweries. And he spoke friendly to the rioters--"They should stop and hear what the Word of God said about the uproar at Ephesus (Acts xix.)." And some would, and some would not. What did they want with parsons? Strike all the parsons dead. They could play the priest for themselves, and forgive their own sins. Yet many went in, for it was the custom to attend the weekly preaching, and my worthy father-in-law, turning round, addressed them from the nave of the church--me-thinks they needed it! One very beautiful comparison that he employed made a great impression, and brought many to reason. For he spoke of the bees, how, when they wander too far from the hive, they can be brought back by soft, sweet melody, and so might this wild and wandering human swarm be brought back to the true hive by the soft and thrilling melody of God's holy Word. Then for conclusion he read the princely mandate from the altar; but at this the uproar recommenced, and they ran shouting and screaming out of the church, and to their wild work again, staving in the barrels and drinking the beer; and they insulted a magistrate that spoke mildly to them, and said if they would be quiet, he would try and have the tax removed. So they raged like the bands of Korah and Abiram; wanted to kill every one, all the rich, and divide their goods; for their riches were their blood and sweat. They would drag the four guilds to the council-hall, and the chief burgomasters, and hang them all up, and afterwards the honourable council, and all the priests, &c. So passed the first and second day. On the third morning by six of the clock, his Highness Duke Philip, with all his suite, drove in six coaches from Colbatz up to the Oderstrasse, galloping into the middle of the crowd of noisy, drunken rioters, who thronged the grass-market as thick as bees in a swarm. He wished to pass on quickly to the castle, but could not, so he had to see and hear for himself how the insurrection raged, and the mob surrounded the coach of his Highness with loud cries, in which nothing could be heard distinctly, but on one side "Kill him!" and on the other, "Let him go!" This made Bishop Francis wild with anger, and he wanted to jump out of the coach and beat back the people, but Duke Philip gently restrained him. "See you not," he said, "the people are sick? Hot words will increase their sickness." Then he motioned to Mag. Reutzio, the court chaplain, who sat in the coach, to admonish the crowd. But the moment the reverend M. Reutzio put his head out of the window to address them, the people shouted, "Down with the parson! what is he babbling for. Dr. Cramer told us all that yesterday. We want no parsons; kill them! kill them! Down with priests! down with princes!" And they sprang upon the horses to cut the traces, but the coachman and outriders slashed away right and left with their horsewhips, so that the mob recoiled; and then with loud shouts of "Make way! make way!" the coachman lashed his horses forward into a gallop. But behold, as they crossed the Shoe-strasse, a coarse, thick-set woman knelt by the kennel with her daughter, a half-grown girl, and they were drinking beer from a barrel like calves. This same woman was knocked down by the foremost horse, so that she fell into the gutter. Hereat she roared and cursed his princely Grace, and flung the beer-can at him, but it fell upon the horse, who grew wild, and dashed off in a mad gallop across the Shoe-strasse into the Pelzerstrasse, and up to the castle without pausing, where a large crowd had already collected. If the sovereign people had been wild before, they were ten times more wild now, and ran to try and get into the castle after his Highness; but the Duke ordered the gates to be closed. He, finding that the courts and corridors were already filled with the members of the venerable council, and three hundred of the militia, bade the men stand to their arms, load the heavy artillery, and erect the blood-standard on the tower, while he and the princes, with the honourable members, considered what could best be done in this grave and dangerous crisis. Whereupon he bade the council attend him in the state banqueting-hall. Now the honourable council declared they were ready to part life and limb for their liege lord and the illustrious house of Pomerania, according to the terms of their oath; but the burghers would not. For when Duke Philip asked, would not the burghers go forth, and help to disperse this armed and unruly mob, the militia made sundry objections, and set forth numerous difficulties. Whereupon Bishop Francis started up, and exclaimed, "Brother, I pray thee, do not stoop to conciliate the people! If ye know not how to die, I can go forth and die for all--since it has come to this." And he rose to depart. But his Highness seized him by the hand, and entreated patience yet for one hour more. Then he turned to the militia, and again admonished them of their duty, and bid them remember the oath; but they answered sharply, "Why the devil should we go forth and shoot our brothers, neighbours, and friends? They are more to us than all." _Item_, they recapitulated their objections and difficulties. Hereupon his Highness exclaimed, "Alas! how comes it that my good people of Stettin are so unruly? If the Stralsunders indeed had risen, I would say nothing, but my dear Stettiners, who have ever been so true and loyal, holding to their province through all adversities, and now--ah! that I should live to see this day!" Then Bishop Francis spake--"Truly, our good Stettiners are to be known no longer. Were it possible to bewitch a whole people, I would say this witch-devil of Marienfliess had done it. For in all Pomeranian land was it ever heard that the people refused obedience to their Prince as the burgher militia here have dared to refuse this day?" Just then the evil tidings arrived that the mob were sacking the house of one of the chiefs of the council, whereupon his Highness Duke Philip called out again, "Will ye stand by me or not? Here is no time for hesitation, but action. Will ye follow me? Speak, lieges!" Hereat a couple of hundred voices responded "Yes, yes;" but the "yes" fell as dull and cold upon the ear as the clang of a leaden bell. However, Bishop Francis instantly exclaimed, "Good! Go then, all of ye, to the armoury, and arm yourselves with speed. Meanwhile I shall see to the loading of the cannon in the castle court. Then whosoever among you is for God and the Prince, follow me to victory or death." But Duke Philip interposed. "Not so, dear brother; not so, my good lieges; let us try first what reconciliation will do, for they are my erring children." And though Duke Francis was sore displeased and impatient, yet my gracious Prince despatched his chief equerry, Andreas Ehlers, as herald to the people, dressed in complete armour, and with a drawn sword in his hand, accompanied by three trumpeters, to read a new princely proclamation to the people. So the herald rode first to the grass-market, and when the trumpet sounded, the people stood still and listened, whereupon he read the following proclamation, in a loud voice:-- "The Serene and Illustrious Prince and Lord, Lord Philip, Duke of Stettin, Pomerania, Cassuben, and Wenden, Prince of Rugen, Count of Gutzkow, and Lord of the lands of Lauenburg and Butow, our gracious Prince, Seigneur, and Lord, hereby commandeth all present, from Lastadie, Wiek, Dragern, and other places assembled, to lay down their arms, and retire each man to his own home in peace and quietness, without offering further molestation to his loyal lieges, burghers, and citizens, on pain of severe punishment in person and life, and deprivation of all wonted privileges. Further, if they have aught of complaint against the honourable council or burgesses, let them bring the same before his Highness himself. Meanwhile the quart of beer, until further orders, shall be reduced to its original price, as agreed on yesterday in council, and be sold henceforth for one Stralsund shilling. "Signatum, Old Stettin, the 18th July, 1616. "PHILIPPUS, _manu sua_." When the herald had finished reading, and shown the princely signature and seal to the ringleaders, a great murmur arose among the crowd, of which, however, the herald took no heed, but rode on to the horse-market, where he likewise read the proclamation, and so on through the principal thorough-fares. Then he returned to the grass-market, but lo! not a soul was to be seen; the crowds had all dispersed, and quietness reigned everywhere. Whereupon the herald rode joyfully to the horse-market, to see if the like had happened there, and truly peace had returned here too. And all along the principal streets where the proclamation had been read, the people were thoroughly subdued by this princely clemency and authority. So when the herald returned to the castle, and related the success of his mission, the tears filled the eyes of his Grace Duke Philip, and taking his lord brother by the hand, he exclaimed, "See, dear Francis, how true are the words of Cicero, '_Nihil tam populare quam bonitas_.'" [Footnote: (Nothing so popular as kindness.)] Then they both went forth and walked arm in arm throughout the town, and wherever his Grace saw any group still gathered round the beercans, he told them to be content, for the beer should be sold to them at the Stralsund shilling. And thus the riot was quelled, and the town returned to its accustomed quietness and order. Now truly the same Cicero says, "_In imperita muititudine est varietas et inconstantia et crebra tanquam tempestatum, sic sententiarum commutatio_." [Footnote: (The senseless multitude are changeful and inconstant as the weather, and their opinions suffer as many mutations.)] CHAPTER X. _Of the fearful events that take place at Marienfliess--Item, bow Dorothea Stettin becomes possessed by the devil._ Meanwhile Satan hath not been less busy at Marienfliess in Sidonia's absence, than at Old Stettin in her presence. But he cunningly changed his mode of action, not to be recognised, and truly Dorothea Stettin was the first he practised on. For having recovered from her sickness, she one day presented herself at church in the nun's choir as usual; but while joining in the closing hymn, she suddenly changed colour, began to sob and tremble in every limb, then continued the chant in a strange, uncertain voice, sometimes treble, sometimes bass, like that of a lad whose beard is just beginning to grow. At this the abbess and the sisterhood listened and stared in wonder, then asked if the dear sister had fallen ill again? "No," she answered gruffly, "she only wanted to be married. She was tired of playing the virgin. Did the abbess know, perchance, of any one who would suit her as bridegroom? For she must and would be married!" Think now of the horror of the nuns. Still they thanked God that such a _scandalum_ had happened during the singing, and not at the blessed sermon. Then they seized her by the arms, and drew her away to her cell. But woe, alas! scarcely had she reached it, when she threw herself upon her bed in strong convulsions. Her eyes turned so that only the whites were to be seen, and her face grew so drawn and strange that it was a grief to look upon it, and still she kept on screaming in the deep, gruff man's voice--"For a bridegroom! a bridegroom!" she that was so modest, and had such a delicate, gentle voice. Whereupon all the sisters rushed in to hear her the moment the sermon was over; _item_, the priest in his surplice. But the unfortunate maiden no sooner beheld him, than she cried out in the deep bass voice--"David, I must marry; wilt thou be my bridegroom?" And when he answered, "Alas, poor girl! when was such speech ever heard from you before? Satan himself must have possessed you!" she cried out again, "Hold your chatter--will you, or will you not?" "How can I take you?" replied the priest; "you know well that I have a wife already." Whereupon the gruff bass voice answered, with mocking laughter, "Ha! ha! ha! what matter for that? Take more wives!" Here some of the young novices laughed, but others who had never wept _bis dato_, now broke out in violent weeping, and the abbess exclaimed, "Oh, merciful God! who hath ever heard the like from this our chaste sister, whom we have known from her youth up? Oh! deliver her from this wicked devil who reigns in her soul and members!" But at the mention of the holy name, the evil one raged more furiously than ever within her. He tore her, so that she foamed at the mouth, and--ah! woe is me that I must speak it--uttered coarse and shameful words, such as the most shameless groom or jack-boy would scarce pronounce. These sent all the novices flying and screaming away; but the abbess remained, with some of the nuns, also the priest, who prepared now to exorcise the devil with the most powerful conjurations. Yet ere he began, a strange thing happened; for the possessed maiden became suddenly quite still, all her members relaxed, and her eyes closed heavily as if in sleep. But it was not so, for she then began, in her own soft, natural voice, to chant a hymn in Dutch, although they all knew she never had learned one word of that language. The words were these:-- "Oh, chaste Jesu! all whose being Was so lovely to our seeing, Thoughts and speech, and soul and senses, Filled with noblest evidences. Oh! the God that dwelt in Thee, In His sinless purity! Oh, Christ Immanuel, Save me from the sinner's hell! Make my soul, with power divine, Chaste and holy, ev'n as Thine!" Then she added in her own tongue--"Ah! ye must pray much before this devil is cast out of me. But still pray, pray diligently, and it will be done. "Guard, Lord Christ, our deepest slumber, Evil thoughts may come in dreams; And the senses list the murmur, Though the frail form sleeping seems. Oh! if Thy hand do not keep us, Even in sleep, from passion's flame, Though our eyes close on temptation, We may fall to sin and shame! Amen." "Yes, yes, oh, pray for me; be not weary, her judgment is pronounced." "What mean you?" spake the abbess, "whose judgment hath been pronounced?" _Illa_.--"Know you not, then? Sidonia's." _Hæc_.--"How could she have bewitched you? She is far from here." _Illa_.--"Spirits know no distance." _Hæc_.--"How then hath she done this?" _Illa_.--"Her spirit Chim summoned another spirit last evening, who entered into me as I gasped for air, after that strife between you and your maid, for I was shocked to hear this faithful creature called a thief." _Hæc_.--"And is she not a thief?" _Illa_.--"In no wise. She is as innocent as a new-born child." _Hæc_.--"But there was no one else in the chamber when I laid down my purse, and when she went away it was gone." _Illa_.--"Ah! your dog Watcher was there, and the purse was made of calf's skin, greased with your hands, for you had been rolling butter; so the dog swallowed it, having got no dinner. Kill the dog, therefore, and you will find your purse." _Hæc_.--"For the love of Heaven! how know you aught of my rolling butter?" _Illa_.--"A beautiful form like an angel sits at my head, and whispers all to me." _Hæc_.--"That must be the devil, who has gone out of thee, for fear of the priest." _Illa_.--"Oh, no! He sits under my liver. See!--there is the angel again! Ha! how terribly his eyes are flashing!" _Hæc_.--"Canst thou see, then? Thine eyes are close shut" (opening Dorothea's eyes by force, but the pupil is not to be seen, only the white). _Illa_.--"I see, but not through the eyes--through the stomach." _Hæc_.--"What? Thou canst see through the stomach?" _Illa_.--"Ay, truly! I can see everything: there is Anna Apenborg peeping under the bed; now she lets the quilt drop in fright. Is it not so?" The abbess clasps her hands together, looks at the priest in astonishment, and cries, "For the love of God, tell me what does all this betoken?" To which the priest answers, "My reason is overwhelmed here, and I might almost believe what the ancients pretended, and Cornelius Agrippa also maintained, that two _dæmones_ or spirits attend each man from infancy to the grave; and that each spirit strives to blend himself with the mortal, and make the human being like unto himself, whether it be for good or evil. [Footnote: Cornelius Agrippa, of the noble race of Nettersheim, natural philosopher, jurist, physician, soldier, necromancer, and professor of the black art--in fine, learned in all natural and supernatural wisdom, closed his restless life at Grenoble, 1535. His principal work, from which the above is quoted (cap. xx.), is entitled _De Occulta Philosophia_. That Socrates had an attendant spirit or demon from his youth up, whose suggestions he followed as an oracle, is known to us from the _Theages_ of Plato. But of the nature of this genius, spirit, or voice, we have no certain indications from the ancients, though the subject has been much investigated in numerous writings, beginning with the monographs of Apulejus and Plutarch. The first (Apulejus), _De Deo Socratis_, makes the strange assertion, that it was a common thing with the Pythagoreans to have such a spirit; so much so, that if any among them declared he had _not_ one, it was deemed strange and singular.] "However, I esteem this apparition to be truly Satan, who has changed himself into an angel of light to deceive more easily, as is his wont; therefore, as this our poor sister hath also a prophesying spirit, like that maiden mentioned, Acts xvi. 16, let us do even as St. Paul, and conjure it to leave her. But first, it would be advisable to see if she hath spoken truth respecting the dog." So my dog was killed, and there in truth was the purse of gold found in his stomach, to the wonderment of all, and the great joy of the poor damsel who had been accused of stealing it. Immediately after, the poor possessed one turned herself on the couch, sighed, opened her eyes, and asked, "Where am I?" for she knew nothing at all of what she had uttered during her sleep, and only complained of a weakness through her entire frame. [Footnote: That poor Dorothea was in the somnambulistic state (according to our phraseology) is evident. A similar instance in which the demoniac passed over into the magnetic state is given by Kerner, "History of Possession," p. 73. I must just remark here, that Kieser ("System of Tellurism") is probably in error when he asserts, from the attitudes discovered amongst some of the Egyptian hieroglyphics, that the ancients were acquainted with the mode of producing the magnetic state by manipulation or passes, for Jamblicbus enumerates all the modes known to the ancients of producing the divining crisis, in his book _De Mysteriis Ægyptorium_, in the chapter, _Insperatas vacat ab actione propria_, page 58, and never mentions manipulation amongst them, of which mode, indeed, Mesmer seems to have been the original discoverer. The ancients, too, were aware (as we are) that the magnetic and divining state can be produced only in young and somewhat simple (_simpliciores_) persons. Porphyry confirms this in his remarkable letter to the Egyptian priest of Anubis (to which I earnestly direct the physiologists), in which he asks, "Wherefore it happens that only simple (_aplontxronz kai nxonz_) and young persons were fitted for divination?" Yet there were many even then, as we learn from Jamblich and the later Psellus, who maintained the modern rationalistic view, that all these phenomena were produced only by a certain condition of our own spiritual and bodily nature; although all somnambulists affirm the contrary, and declare they are the result of external _spiritual_ influences working upon them.] After this, the evil spirit left her in peace for two days, and every one hoped that he had gone out of her; but on the third day he began to rage within the unfortunate maiden worse than ever, so that they had to send quickly for the priest to exorcise him. But behold, as he entered in his surplice, and uttered the salutation, "The peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be upon this maid," the evil spirit with the man's coarse voice cried out of poor Dorothea's mouth-- "Come here, parson, I'll soon settle for you." Then it cursed, swore, and blasphemed God, and raged within the poor maiden, so that the foam gathered on her pale lips. But the reverend David is not to be frightened from his duty by the foul fiend. He kneeled down first, with all present, and prayed earnestly to God; then endeavoured to make the possessed maiden repeat the Lord's Prayer and the Creed after him; but the devil would not let her. He raged, roared, laughed scornfully, and abused the priest with such unseemly words that it was a grief and horror to hear them. "Wait, parson," it screamed, "in three days thou shalt be as I am. (Namely, a spirit; though no one knew then what the devil meant.) I will make thee pay for this, because thou tormentest me." But neither menaces nor blasphemies could deter the good priest. He lifted his eyes to heaven, and prayed that beautiful prayer from the Pomeranian liturgy, page 244, which he had by heart:-- "O Lord Jesu Christ, Thou Son of the living God, at whose name every knee must bend, in heaven, upon the earth, and under the earth; God and man; our Saviour, our brother, our Redeemer; who hast conquered sin, and death, and hell, trod on the devil's head and destroyed his works--Thou hast promised, Thou holy Saviour, 'that whatever we ask the Father in Thy name, Thou wilt grant unto us.' Therefore, by that holy promise, we pray Thee, Lord Christ, to look with pity upon this our sister, who hath been baptized in Thy holy name, redeemed by Thy precious blood, washed from all sin, anointed by Thy Holy Spirit, and made one with Thee, a member of the living temple of Thy body. Relieve her from the tyranny and power of the devil; graciously cast out this unclean spirit, that so Thy holy name may be praised and glorified, for ever and ever. Amen." Then he laid his hand upon the sick maiden's head, while the hellish fiend raged and roared more furiously than ever, so that all present were seized with trembling, and exclaimed-- "In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in the strength of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in the power of the Lord Jesus Christ, I bid, desire, and command thee, thou unclean spirit, to come forth, and give place to the Holy Spirit of God! Amen." Whereupon the convulsions ceased in the sick maiden's limbs, and she sank down gently on her bed, as a sail falls when the cords are loosed and the wind ceases; and thus she lay for a long time quite still. After which, she said in her own natural voice-- "Now I see him no more!" "Who is it that you see no more?" asked the abbess. _Illa_.--"The evil spirit, my angel says. He has gone forth from me. Woe, woe, alas!" _Hæc_.--"Why dost thou cry, alas, when he has in truth gone out from thee?" _Illa.--"My angel says, he will first strangle the priest who has cast him forth, then will he return, as it is written in the Scripture (Matt. xi. 24), 'After three days I will return to my house from which I had gone forth.' Ah, look! the good priest is growing pale. But let him be comforted, for he shall have his reward in heaven, as the Lord saith (Matt, v.)." _Hæc_.--"But why does the great God permit such power to the devil, if what thou sayest be true?" _Illa_ is silent. _Hæc_.--"Thou art silent; what says thy angel?" _Illa_.--"He is silent also--now he speaks again." _Hæc_.--"What says he then?" _Illa_.--"The wisdom of God is silent." The abbess repeats the words, while the priest falls back against the wall, as white as chalk, and exclaims-- "Your angel is right. I feel as if a mouse were running up and down through my body. Alas! now the bones of my chest are breaking. Farewell, dear sisters; in heaven we shall meet again. Farewell; pray for me. I go to lay my head upon my death-pillow." And he was scarcely gone out at the door when a great cry and weeping arose amongst the sisters present, and the abbess asked, weeping likewise-- "Is this, too, Sidonia's work?" _Illa_.--"Whose else? She hath never forgiven him because he rejected her love, and hath only delayed his death to a fitting opportunity." _Hæc_.--"Merciful God! and will this murderous nun be brought to judgment?" _Illa_.--"Yes, when her hour comes, she will be burned and beheaded--not many years after this." _Hæc_.--"And what will become of you? Will you die, if Satan often takes up his dwelling-place in your heart?" _Illa_.--"If you do not prevent him, I shall die; if he leave me, I shall grow well." _Hæc_.--"What can we, miserable mortals, do to prevent him?" _Illa_.--"Jobst Bork of Saatzig has three rings, which the spirits made, and gave to his grandmother in Pansin. _Item_, he has also a beautiful daughter called Diliana, and as no second on earth bears her name, [Footnote: In fact, I have nowhere else met with the name "Diliana," whereas that of "Sidonia" is by no means uncommon. Virgil calls Dido "Sidonia" (Æn. i, v. 446), with somewhat of poetic license, for she was not born in Sidon but in Tyre. About the time of the Reformation this name became very common in the regal houses. For example, King George of Bohemia, Duke Henry of Saxony, Duke Franz of Westphalia, and others, had daughters called "Sidonia." For this reason, therefore, the proud knight of Stramehl probably gave the same name to his daughter. In the Middle Ages I find only one Sidonia or Sittavia, the spouse of Count Manfred of Xingelheim, who built the town of Zittau, and died in the year 1021.] so is there no other who equals her in goodness, piety, humility, chastity, and courage. If this Diliana lays one of the rings on my stomach, in the name of God, the devil can no more enter in me, and I shall be healed. But what do I see?--there she comes herself." _Hæc_.--"Who comes?" _Illa_.--"Diliana. She has run away from her father, and will offer herself as servant to Sidonia, because old Wolde is sick." _Hæc_.--"She must be foolish then, if this be true." _Illa_.--"Ay, she is foolish, but it is from pure love, which indeed is a godlike folly; for Sidonia hath bewitched her poor father, and he grows worse and worse, and her prayers to the sorceress are of no avail to help him, so she hath privately left her father's castle, to offer herself as servant to Sidonia; for no wench, far or near, will be found who will take old Wolde's place, and she hopes, in return for this, that the sorceress will give her something from her herbal to cure her old father. Ha! what do I see? How her beautiful hair streams behind her upon the wind! How she runs like a deer over the heather, and looks back often, for her heart is trembling lest her father might send after her. Now she enters the wood; see, she kneels down, and prays for her father and for herself, that God will keep her steps. Let us pray also, dear sisters, for her, for the poor priest, and for the unfortunate maiden." Whereupon they all fell upon their knees, and the possessed virgin offered up so beautiful a prayer that none had ever heard the like before, and every face was bedewed with tears. After which she awoke, and, as the first time, remembered nothing whatever of what had passed, or of what she had uttered. CHAPTER XI. _Of the arrival of Diliana and the death of the convent priest--Item, how the unfortunate corpse is torn by a wolf_. Scarcely had the abbess returned to her apartment when Diliana sprang in, with flowing hair, and her beautiful, blooming face looking like a rose sprinkled with morning dew. So the worthy matron screamed first with wonder that all should be true, then taking the lovely young maiden in her arms, pressed her to her heart, and asked-- "Wherefore comest thou here, my beloved Diliana?" _Illa_.--"I have run away from my father, good mother, and will serve my cousin Sidonia Bork as her waiting-maid, hoping that in return she will give him something out of her herbal to heal his poor frame, which is distracted day and night with pain, even as she healed you and Sheriff Sparling; and she will do this, I am sure, because I hear that her maid, Anne Wolde, is sick, and no one in all the country round will take service with her, they say." _Hæc_.--"Poor child, thou knowest not what thou dost. She will slay thee, or ill-treat thee in her wickedness, or may be bring some worse evil than either on thee." _Illa_.--"And I will do as the Lord commanded--if she strike me on one cheek, I will turn to her the other also, whereby she will be softened, and consent to help my poor father." _Hæc_.--"She will help him in nothing, and then how wilt thou bear the disgrace of servitude?" _Illa_.--"Disgrace? If the soul suffer not disgrace, the body, methinks, can suffer it never." _Hæc_.--"But how canst thou do the duties of a serving-wench? Thou, brought up the lady of a castle!" _Illa_.--"I have learned everything privately from Lisette; trust me, I can feed the pigs and sheep, milk the cow, and wash the dishes, &c." _Hæc_.--"But what put it into thy head, child, to serve her as a maid?" _Illa_.--"When I last entreated my cousin Sidonia to help my poor father, she said, 'Get me a good maid who will do my business well, and then I shall see what can be done to help him. Now, as no one will take service with her, what else can I do, but play the trencher-woman myself, and thus save my poor father's life?" _Hæc_.--"Thou hast saved it once before, as I have heard." _Illa_ is silent. _Hæc_.--"How was it? Tell me, that I may see if they told me the story truly." _Illa_.--"Ah, good mother, speak no more of it. It was as you have heard, no doubt." _Hæc_.--"People say that a horse threw your father, dragged him along, and attempted to kick him, upon which, while all the men-folk stood and gaped, you flew like the wind, seized the bridle of the animal, and held him fast till your father was up again." _Illa_.--"Well, mother, there was nothing very wonderful in that." _Hæc_.--"Also, they tell that one day at the hunt you came upon a part of the wood where two robbers were beating a noble almost to death, after having plundered him. You sprang forward, menaced them, and finally made them take to their heels, after which you helped the poor wounded man upon your own palfrey, like a good Samaritan indeed, and without thought of the danger or fatigue, walked beside him, leading the horse by the bridle until clear out of the wood, and thus----" _Illa_.--"Ah, good mother, do not make me more red than I am; for know, the poor wounded noble thought so much of what I had done, that he must needs ask me for his bride, though truly I would have done the like for a beggar." _Hæc_.--"Then it was George Putkammer, and thou wilt not have him?" _Illa_.--"I may say with Sara (Tobias iii.), 'Thou knowest, Lord, that I have desired no man, and have kept my soul pure from all evil lusts;' but indeed to save my father's life is more to me than a bridegroom. A bridegroom may be offered many times in life to a young thing like me, but a father comes never again." _Hæc_.--"God grant that thou mayest save him, but never tell thy cousin Sidonia of George Putkammer's love, else, methinks, it will be all over with thee." _Illa_.--"But if she ask me, I cannot lie unto her----" Just then the cry was heard, "The priest is dying;" whereupon the abbess, Diliana, indeed the whole convent, rushed out to visit him at the glebe-house. The priest, however, was dead when they arrived, and his corpse had the same signature of Satan as the others who died before him, save only that his right hand was uplifted, and had stiffened into the same position in which he held it when he exorcised the evil spirit out of Dorothea. So they all stood around pale and trembling, while they listened to his poor widow telling how his breast-bone rose up higher and higher, until at length he died in horrible agony. But behold, the door flies open, and Sidonia, who had just returned from her long journey, enters, with her long black habit trailing after her through the chamber. Whereupon they all become dumb with horror and disgust, and stand there like so many marble or enchanted figures. "Ah, what is this I hear," exclaimed the accursed sorceress, "just on my return home? Is the worthy and upright man really dead? Woe! alas, that I could have saved him from this! How did it happen? Thank God that I was not here at the time, or the wicked world, which lays all manner of crimes upon me falsely, might have accused me of this likewise. Yes, I thank God a thousand times that I was absent! Speak, poor Barbara! how did it happen that your dear spouse fell so suddenly ill?" But the poor wife only trembled, and sank powerless against the bed where the corpse of her husband lay stretched; for when Sidonia advanced close to it, the red blood oozed from the mouth of the dead man, as if to accuse his murderess before God and man. And no one could speak a word, not even a sob was heard in answer to her questions; whereupon the sorceress spake again-- "Alas, what is all this which has happened in my absence! Good Dorothea, they tell me, is possessed by a devil; but, at least, people can see now that I am as innocent as a new-born infant; though, assuredly, some terrible sinner must be lurking amongst us, though we know it not, or all this judgment would not come upon the convent. I would not willingly condemn any Christian soul; but, if I err not, the old dairy-woman is the person!" This she said from revenge, because the woman had refused to give her seven cheeses for a florin, when she was on her way to Stettin. Of the misfortunes which grew out of these same cheeses for the poor dairy-woman, we shall hear more in due time. At this horrible hypocrisy and falsehood the abbess could no longer hold her peace, and cried, "In my opinion, sister, you err much; the old dairy-mother is a pious and honest woman, as all the convent can testify, and attended diligently on our dead pastor here to be catechised." _Illa_.--"Who then, else? It was incomprehensible. A thousand times thank God that she had been away during it all. Now they must hold their tongues, they who had blackened her to the Prince; but his Grace had done her justice, and dismissed her honourably from the trial at Stettin." _Hæc_.--"I have a different version of the story; for his Highness has commanded you to resign the sub-prioret to Dorothea Stettin forthwith--_item_, you are to be kept close within the convent walls, for which purpose I shall order the great padlock to be placed again upon the gates. Thus his Grace commands; and as we have a chapter assembled here already, I may announce the resolve with all due form." _Illa_.--"What! you tell me this, in the presence of the priest's wife and your serving-wenches? Do they belong to the chapter of noble virgins? I shall forward a _protocollum_ to his Highness, setting forth all that has happened in my absence, and get all the sisterhood to sign it, that the Duke may know what kind of folk the abbess summons to her chapter; but as touching the sub-prioret, it is well known to you all how it was forced upon me by Dorothea, as I fully explained to the princes in council. However, speak, sisters; if ye indeed wish this light, silly creature, this devil-possessed Dorothea Stettin, for your sub-prioress again, take her, and welcome--I will not prevent you. She can teach you all the shameful words which, as I hear, flow so liberally from her lips--eh, sisters, will ye have the wanton or not?" And when the nuns all cried "No, no!" the accursed witch went on-- "Well, then, I bid ye all to assemble instantly in my apartment, to testify the same to his Highness; also to bear witness of the evil deeds done in my absence, for that the poor priest has died no natural death, is evident; therefore his Grace, I trust, will probe the business to the uttermost, and find out who is the evil Satan amongst us--ay, and tear off the deceitful mask, that my good name thereby may be justified before the Prince and the whole world." Diliana now stepped forward from amidst a crowd of serving-women among whom she had concealed herself, and bowed low in salutation to Sidonia; but the witch laughed scornfully, and cried, "What! has your worthy father sent you to me?" _Illa_.--"Ah, no; she came out of her own free will, to serve her good cousin Sidonia, for she heard that no maid could be found to hire with her, therefore she would play the serving-wench herself, and ask no other wages but a cure from her receipt-book for her dear father, who was daily growing worse and worse." _Hæc_.--"She required much from her maid; and on her way home she had bought six little pigs--_item_, she had a cow, cocks and hens, geese, and seven sheep. All these the maid must feed and look after, besides doing all the indoor work." _Illa_.--"She could do all that easily, for old Lisa had instructed her in everything." _Hæc_.--"But how was it that she was not ashamed to play the serving-wench--she, a castle and land dowered maiden, with that illustrious name she bore?" _Illa_.--"There was but one thing of which men need be ashamed, and that was sin; but this was not sin." _Hæc_.--"She was very sharp with her answers. Why did she not talk to her father, who had made her brother's son, Otto of Stramehl, give up to him her two farm-houses in Zachow, with all the rents appertaining; but Otto had been justly punished by the good God, for she had just got tidings of his death." _Illa_.--"But my father will restore you all, good cousin, as he wrote to you himself." _Hæc_.--"Ay, the old houses, may be, he'll give back, but will he restore the rents that have been gathering for fifty years? No, no, he refuses the money, even as my nephew Otto refused it (but God has struck him dead for it, as I said before). [Footnote: He died suddenly just at this time; and Sidonia confessed, at the eleventh torture question, that she had caused his death, (Dähnert, p. 430.)] Oh, truly these proud knights of my own kin and name stood bravely for me against the world! ay, I owe them many thanks for turning me out, a poor young maiden, unfriended and alone, till I became a world's wonder, and the scorn of every base and lying tongue; but persecution was ever the lot of the children of God." _Illa_.--"Her poor father had not the gold; for five rix-dollars a year would amount in fifty years to five hundred rix-dollars, and such a sum her father could not command." _Hæc_.--"Yet he had enough to spend on horses, falcons, hunting, and the like; only for her he had naught." _Illa_ (kissing her hand).--"Ah, good cousin, leave him in peace, and help him if you can; I will serve thee as well as I am able--my life long, if you ask it of me." _Hæc_.--"Away! thou silly, childish thing; how should the meek Sidonia ever bear to be served by a noble lady as thou art? If the world had not blackened me before, it might begin now in earnest, and justly." _Illa_.--"Ah, good, kind cousin, will you then heal my father for nothing?" _Hæc_.--"Well, I shall see about it, if, perchance, it be God's will." _Illa_ (kissing her hand again).--"Dear cousin, how good you are! Now see, all of ye, what a kind cousin I have in Sidonia, who has promised to cure my loved father" (dancing for joy like a child). _Hæc_.--"Come, then, all present, to my apartment; thou, Diliana, mayest draw up the _protocollum_, and better, perhaps, than a bad notary. Come!" So they all proceeded to the refectory, and the _protocollum_, was drawn up and signed, and Sidonia compelled the new convent porter to carry it off, that very night, to his Highness at Stettin. Meanwhile the poor widow, along with some other women, including the old dairy-mother, prepared the poor priest's corpse for burial, and they put on him his black Geneva gown--_item_, black plush breeches, which his brother-in-law in Jacobshagen had made him a present of. I note the plush breeches especially, for what reason my readers will soon see; and because the parsonage swarmed with rats, they had the corpse carried before nightfall into the church, and set down close beside the altar; and by command of the sheriff the windows were thrown open to admit fresh air, on account of the dead body lying there. An hour after the poor widow went into the church, to see if the blood yet flowed from the mouth of her dear murdered husband. But what sees she?--the corpse is lying on its face in the coffin in place of on its back. She calls the dairy-mother in, trembling with horror, and they turn him between them. Then they go forth, but return in a little while again, and see, the corpse is again turned upon its face. And no one is able to comprehend how the corpse can turn of itself, or be turned by any one, for the widow has one key of the church and the abbess has the other; therefore the poor wife, simple as she is, resolves to hide herself in the church for the night, and light the altar candles, that she might see how it happened that the corpse turned in the coffin. And the dairy-mother agreed to watch with her; _item_, Anna Apenborg, who heard the story from them; _item_, Diliana, for as Sidonia had no bed to give her, the young maiden had gone to sleep with Anna, and there the priest's maid told them of the horrible way her poor master's corpse had turned in the coffin. So the weeping widow let them all watch with her gladly, for she feared to be alone, but warned them to speak no word, lest the evil-doer, whoever it might be, should perceive them, and keep away. There was no man within call, either, to help them, for the porter had gone away to Stettin; so they four, after commending themselves to God, went secretly into the church at ten of the clock, laid the corpse right upon its back, and lit candles round it, as the custom is. Item, they lit the candles on the altar, and then hid themselves in the dark confession-box, which lay close by the altar, and from which they could see the coffin perfectly. After waiting for an hour or more, sighing and weeping, and when the hour-glass which they had brought with them showed it was the twelfth hour--hark! there was a noise in the coffin that made them all start to their feet, and at the same instant the private door of the nuns' choir opened gently, and something came down the steps of the gallery, step by step, on to the coffin, and the blood now froze in their veins, for they perceived that it was a wolf; and he laid his paws upon the corpse, and began to tear it. At this sight the poor widow screamed aloud, whereupon the wolf sprang back and attempted to make off, but Diliana bounded on its track, crying, "A wolf! a wolf!" and seeing upon the altar an old tin crucifix, which some of the workmen who had been opening the vault had brought up from below, she seized it and pursued the wolf out of the great gate into the churchyard, while the rest followed screaming. And as the wolf ran fast, and made for the graves, as if to hide itself, the daring virgin, not being able to get near enough to strike it, flung the crucifix at the unclean beast, when lo! the wolf suddenly disappeared, and nothing was to be seen but Sidonia in the clear moonlight, standing trembling beside a grave. "Good cousin!" exclaimed Diliana in horror, "where has the wolf gone? we were pursuing a wolf." Upon which the horrible and accursed night-raven recovered herself quickly, and pointing with her finger to the crucifix which lay upon the ground, said with a tone of mingled scorn and anger, "There, thou stupid fool! he sank beneath that cross!" The poor innocent child believed her, and ran forward to pick up the crucifix, looking in every direction around for the wolf; but the others, who were wiser, saw full well that the wolf had been none other than Sidonia herself, for her lips were bloody, and round them, like a beard, were sticking small black threads, which were indeed from the black silk hose of the poor corpse. And when they looked at her horrible mouth they trembled, but were silent from fear; all except the inquisitive Anna Apenborg, who asked, "Dear sister, what makes you here at midnight in the churchyard?" Here the horrible witch-demon mastered her anger, and answered in a melancholy, plaintive tone, "Ah, good sister Anna! I had a miserable toothache, so that I could not sleep, and I just crept down here into the fresh air, thinking it might do me good. But what are you all doing here by night in the churchyard?" No one replied; indeed, she seemed not to care for an answer, but put up her kerchief to her horrible and traitorous mouth, and turned away whimpering. The others, however, went back to the church, where the corpse truly lay upon its back as they had left it, but the hose were rent at the knee, and the flesh torn and bloody. How can I tell now of the poor widow's screams and tears? _Summa_.--The corpse was buried the next day, and as no man had been a witness of the night-scene, only the weeping women, no one would believe their strange story, neither on the last trial would the judges even credit so wild a tale as that Sidonia could change herself into a wolf, and pronounced as their opinion, that fear must have made the women blind, or distracted their heads, and that no doubt a real wolf had attacked the corpse, which was by no means a strange or unusual occurrence. (But I have my own opinion on the subject, and many who read this will think differently from the judges, I warrant.) For no more horrible vengeance could have been devised by Beelzebub himself, the chief of the devils, than this of the she-wolf Sidonia Bork (for Bork means wolf in the Gothic tongue), to revenge herself on the priest because he disdained her love. But why and wherefore the unfortunate corpse was found so often turned upon its face, that I cannot explain, and it must ever remain a mystery, I think. However, I shall pass on now to other matters, for truly we have had enough of these disgusting horrors. [Footnote: One of the most inveterately rooted of our superstitions is this belief in the existence of man-wolves. Ovid mentions it in his _Lycaon_, and even Herodotus. Many modern examples are given in Dr. Weggand's natural history, which book I recommend to all lovers of the marvellous, for they will find much in it which far surpasses what we have related above concerning Sidonia. The belief in a vampire, which Lord Byron has clothed with his genius, belongs to the same order of superstitions; and Horst, in his Magic Library, furnishes some very curious remarks concerning it. Even Luther himself believed in the possibility of such existences.] CHAPTER XII. _How Jobst Bork has himself carried to Marienfliess in his bed, to reclaim his fair young daughter Diliana--Item, how George Putkammer threatens Sidonia with a drawn sword._ Now Jobst Bork of Saatzig had but this one daughter, the fair Diliana, whom he loved ten times more than his life; and no sooner had he heard of her flight than he guessed readily whither, and for what cause, she had flown; for, that day and night her thoughts were bent on how to help him, he knew well; also, the teachings of old Lisa were not unknown to him. So he resolved to go and seek her, and sent for twelve peasants to carry him, as he was, in his bed, to Marienfliess, for his limbs were so contracted from gout that he could neither ride, walk, nor stand. Accordingly, next morning early, the twelve peasants bearing the couch on which lay the poor knight, entered the great gate of the convent, and they set down the bed, by command of the knight, just beneath Sidonia's window. Whereupon the miserable father stretched forth his right hand, and cried out, as loud as he was able, "Sidonia Bork, I conjure you by the living God, give me my child again!" Three times he repeated this adjuration. So we may imagine how the whole convent ran together to see who was there. Anna Apenborg and Diliana were, however, not amongst them, for they had been up late watching by the corpse, and were still fast asleep; _item_, Sidonia, I think, was snoring likewise, for she never appeared, until at last she threw up the window, half-dressed, and screamed out, "What wants the cursed knave? Hath the devil possessed you, Jobst, in earnest? Good people, take the fellow to Dorothea's cell--they are fit company for one another!" But the knight again stretched forth his trembling arm from the bed, and repeated his adjuration solemnly, using the same words. At this, Sidonia's face glowed with anger; and seizing her broom-stick, she rushed out of the room, down the steps, and into the courtyard, while her long, thin, white hair flew wildly about her face and shoulders, and her red eyes glared like two red coals in her head. (I have omitted to notice that this horrible Satan's hag had long since got his signature in her red eyes; for, as the slaves of vice are known by their ash-pale colour, and the _black_ circle round their eyes, so the slaves of Satan are known by the _red_ circle.) But when the evil witch reached the spot where the sick knight lay on his bed, and saw the crowd standing round him, she changed her demeanour, and leaning on the broom-stick, exclaimed, "Methinks, Jobst, you are mad; and you and your daughter ought to be put at once into a mad-house; for, judge all of ye who stand here round us, how unjustly I am accused. Yesterday this man's daughter comes to me, and says she will play my serving-wench, if I promise to cure her father; just as if I were the Lord God, and could heal sickness as I willed; but I refused to take her, as was meet, and the whole convent can testify this of me; when, see now, here comes this fool of a father, and, taking the Lord's name in vain, demands his daughter of me, though I never had her, nor detained her; and she can go this moment whither she likes, as ye all know." Hereupon the abbess herself advanced to the bed, and spake--"In truth, you err, sir knight. Sidonia hath refused to accept your daughter's service! But here comes the fair maiden herself--ask her if it is not so." And Diliana, who had thrown on her clothes in haste, and ran with Anna out of her cell, sprang forward, and fell sobbing upon her father's bosom, who sobbed likewise, and cries, in an agitated voice, "God be thanked, I have thee again; now I shall die happy! Ah! silly child, how couldst thou run away from me! Dearest!--my heart's dearest!--my own joy-giving Diliana! ah, leave me not again before I die--it will not be long, perhaps." Here the weeping of the peasants interrupted him, for they loved the good knight dearly, and the rude boors sobbed, and blew their noses, in great affliction, like so many children. But the knight was too proud to beg a cure from Sidonia; he would rather die--better death than humiliation. So he spake--"Children, lift me up again, in the name of God, and bear me home; and thou, my Diliana, walk thou by my side, sweet girl, that my eyes may not lose thee for an instant." So the peasants lifted up the bed again on their shoulders; but Diliana exclaimed, "Wait, ah, my heart's dearest father, you do our good cousin Sidonia sore injustice. Only think, she has promised to cure you, without any recompense at all! Is it not true, dear cousin? Set the bed down again, good vassals! Is it not true, dear cousin?" As she thus spoke, and kissed the claws of the horrible hell-wolf with her beautiful bright lips, such an expression of rage and unutterable hatred passed over Sidonia's face, that all, even the peasants, shuddered with horror, and nearly let the bed fall from their trembling hands; but the fair young girl was unaware of it, for she was bending down upon the hand of the evil sorceress. However, my hag soon composed herself; and, no doubt, fearing the vengeance of Duke Francis, or hoping perhaps to cover her evil deeds by this one public act of charity, and so gain a good name before the world, and the fair opinion of their Highnesses, to whom she had written the day previous, she rested her arm once more upon the broom-stick, and turning to the crowd, thus spake-- "Ye shall see now that Sidonia hath a truly Christian heart in her bosom; for, by the help of God, I will try and heap coals of fire upon mine enemy's head. Yes, he is mine enemy. None have persecuted me more than he and his race, though, God be good to me, it is my own race likewise. His false father was the first to malign me, and yet more guilty was his still falser mother; but God punished her hypocrisy with a just judgment, for she died in child-birth of him, so true is it what the Scripture says, 'The Lord abhors both the bloodthirsty and deceitful man.' Ah, she was deceitful beyond all I have met with upon earth--also, this her son, the false Clara's son, hath made my nephew, Otto of Stramehl, in a traitorous and unknightly manner, give him up my two farm-houses at Zachow, and he now refuses to restore me either my farms or the rents thereto belonging." Here Jobst cried out, "'Tis false, Sidonia! I shall say nothing of thy statements respecting my parents, for all who knew them testify that they were righteous and honourable their life long, therefore let them rest in their graves; but as touching thy farm-houses, thou shalt have them back, as I have already written to thee. The accumulated rents, however, thou canst not have, for it were a strange and unjust thing, truly, to demand fifty years' rent from me, who have only been in possession of the farms for half a year." "What! thou unjust knave," screamed Sidonia furiously; but then suddenly strangled the wrath in her throat with a convulsion, as if a wolf were gulping a bone, and continued--"It may be a hard struggle to help one of thy name, but I remember the words of my heavenly Bridegroom (oh, that the horrible blasphemy did not choke her), 'I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you;' and so, Jobst Bork, I will do good to thee out of my herbal, if the merciful God will assist my efforts, as I hope." Then she turned her hypocritical, Satanic eyes up to heaven, sighed, and stepping to the bed, murmured some words; then asked, "How is it with thee now, Jobst? is there ease already?" "Oh yes, good cousin," he answered, "I am better, much better, thanks, good cousin! Lift me up again, children, and bear me homeward--I thank thee, cousin!" and with these words he was borne out of the convent gates, the fair young Diliana following him closely; and scarcely had they left the town and reached the moor, when the knight called out from the bed, "Oh, it is true, my own dear daughter--praise be to God, I am indeed better; but I am so weary!" And he sank back almost immediately into a deep sleep, which continued till they reached the castle of Saatzig, and the bearers laid the bed down again in its old place in the knight's chamber--still he woke not. Then Diliana kneeled down beside him, and thanked the Lord with burning tears; sprang up again quickly, and bade them saddle her palfrey, for she must ride away, but would return again before a couple of hours. If her father woke up in the meantime, let them say he must not be uneasy, for that she would return soon and tell him herself whither and on what errand she had been. Hereupon she went to a large cabinet that stood in her father's chamber, took out a little casket containing three golden rings, mounted her palfrey, and rode back with all speed on the road to Marienfliess. But I must here relate how these magic golden rings came into possession of the family; the tradition runs as follows:-- A long while ago the castle of Pansin, which had originally belonged to the Knights Templars, became a fief of the Bork family, and the Count who was then in possession went to the wars in the Holy Land, leaving his fair young wife alone in her sorrow: and lo! one night, as she was weeping bitterly, a spirit appeared in her chamber, and motioned her to rise from bed and follow him to the castle garden. But she was horror-struck, and crept trembling under the quilt. Next night the ghost again stood by her bed, made the same gestures even menacingly, but she was frightened, and hid her head beneath the clothes. The third night brought the ghost likewise; but this time the fair lady took courage, rose from bed, and followed him in silence down the steps into the castle garden, on to a small island, where the two streams, the Ihna and the Krampehl, meet. Here there was a large fire, and around it many spirits were seated. Hereupon her ghost spake-- "Fear nothing, but fill thy apron with coals from the fire, and return to the castle; but, I warn thee, do not look back." The fair chatelaine did as she was desired, filled her apron, and returned to the castle; but all the way, close behind her, there was a terrible uproar, and the rushing and roaring as of many people. However, she never looked back, only on reaching the castle gates she thought she might take one peep round just as she was closing them; but, lo! instantly her apron was rent, and the coals fell hither and thither on the ground, and out of all she could only save three pieces, with which she rushed on to her own apartment, never again looking behind her, though the uproar continued close to her very heels all the way up to her chamber door; and trembling with dread, and commending herself to all the saints, she at last threw herself on her bed once more in safety. But next morning, on looking for the coals, she found three golden rings in their stead bearing strange inscriptions, which no man hath been able to decipher until this day. As to those she had dropped at the castle gate, they were nowhere to be seen; and on the fourth night the ghost comes again, and scolds her for disobeying his orders, but admonishes her to preserve the three rings safely, for if she lost one, a great misfortune would fall upon the village, and the castle be rent violently--_item_, but two of her race would ever be alive at the same time; if the second were lost, her race would be reduced to direst poverty; and if the third ring were lost, the race would disappear entirely from the earth. After this, when her knightly spouse returned from Jerusalem, and she told him the wonderful story of the three rings, he had a costly casket made for them, in which they were safely locked, with a rose of Jericho placed above them, which he had himself brought from the Holy Land; and this wonderful treasure has been preserved by the Count's descendants with jealous care, even until this day. I have said that no man could read the inscriptions on the rings: they were all the same--the three as like as the leaves of a trefoil. They were all large enough for the largest man's thumb, and made of the purest crown gold: the shield was of a circular form, bearing in the centre the figure of a Knight Templar in full armour, with spur and shield, keeping watch before the Temple at Jerusalem; but what the characters around the figure signified, I leave unsaid, and many, I am thinking, will leave unsaid likewise. [Footnote: It is a fact, that no one up to the present time has been able to decipher this very remarkable inscription, not even Silvestre de Sacy himself, to whom it was sent some years ago. Dreger's reading, given in Dähnert's Pomeranian Library, iv. p. 295, is manifestly wrong--_Ordo Hierosolymitamis_. But two of the rings are forthcoming now; and in fulfilment of the tradition, a tremendous rent really followed the loss of the first in the old castle of Pansin, which may yet be seen in this fine ruin, whose like is not to be found in all Pomerania, nor, indeed, in the north of Germany. The two remaining rings, with the rose of Jericho, are still to be seen in the original casket, which is of curious and costly workmanship, and this casket is again enclosed in another of iron, with strong hoops and clasps. Should any of my readers desire to discover the meaning of the inscription, he will do me the highest favour by communicating the same to me.] _In summa_.--When Diliana arrived with these rings, the poor Dorothea lay again in the devil's fetters. She roared, and screamed, and raged horribly, and tore her bed-clothes, and foamed at the mouth, and even abused and reviled the beautiful young virgin, who took, however, no heed thereof, but with permission of the abbess laid the three rings upon the stomach of the sick nun, who immediately became quite still, and so lay for a little while, after which, with a loud roar, Satan went out of her, while the windows clattered and the glasses rang upon the table. Then she fell into a deep sleep, and on awakening remembered nothing of what had happened, but seeing Diliana prepared to set out on her homeward ride, asked with wonder, "Who is this strange young maiden, and what does she here?" After this, as I may as well briefly notice here, Dorothea became quite well, and by the mercy of God remained for ever after untouched by the demon claws of the great enemy of mankind. Meanwhile the good Diliana felt it to be her duty to descend to the refectory, and thank the hell-dragon for the refreshing sleep which her father, Jobst, had obtained by her means. But, ah! how does she find my dragon? Her eyes shoot fire and flame, and in an instant she flew at poor Diliana on the subject of marriage-- "What! she wanted to marry too! She was scarcely out of school, and yet already was thinking about marriage!" "Good cousin," answered the other, "I have indeed no thoughts of marriage, and no desire for it has ever entered my heart." "What!" screamed my dragon; "you lie to me, child! The whole convent talks of it; and Anna Apenborg herself told me that you are betrothed to that beardless boy George Putkammer. Fie! a fellow without a beard." Hereupon she began to spit out. But George Putkammer that instant clattered up the steps; for the news had come to Pansin, of which castle Jobst Bork had made him castellan, seeing that he set much store by the brave young knight, and would willingly have had him for his son-in-law, if his fair little daughter Diliana had not resisted his entreaties, _bis dalo_; the news came, I say, now that Diliana had run away from her father, and gone to play the serving-wench to Sidonia. So the knight seized his good sword, and went forth, like another Perseus, to save his Andromeda, and deliver her from the dragon, even if his own life were to pay the cost. He knew not that the damning dragon despised the service of the mild, innocent girl, nor that Jobst Bork had gone to offer himself as a sacrifice in her place. So he clattered up the steps, dashed open the door, and finding Sidonia in the very act of spitting out, he drew his sword, and roared-- "Dare to touch even a finger of that angel beside thee, and thy black toad's blood shall rust upon this sword." And when Sidonia started back alarmed, he continued-- "O Diliana, much loved and beautiful maiden, what does my queen here? Where have you heard that the angels of God seek help and shelter from the devil, as you have done here? Return with me to Saatzig, and, by my faith, some other means shall make this vile wretch help your poor father." Sidonia now screamed with rage-- "What wants this silly varlet here, this beardless young profligate? Ha, youngster, thou shalt pay for thy bold, saucy tongue!" _Ille_.--"Hold thy accursed mouth, or I will give thee such a blow that thou shalt never need it again, but to groan. Listen, cursed beast of hell, and mark my words. Since our gracious Lord of Stettin handles thee so gently, and lets thee heap evil upon evil at thine own vile will, I and another noble have sworn solemnly to rid the land from such a curse. Let it cost our lives or not, we shall avenge our country in thy blood, unless thou ceasest to work all thy diabolical wickedness. Now, therefore, hear me. Delay one instant to heal the upright Jobst and to remove thy accursed witch-spell from off him, and this sword shall take a bloody revenge; or if but a finger ache of this beautiful maiden here, thy death is certain. Think not to escape. Thou mayst lame me, like Jobst or Wedel, or murder me as others, it will not help thee; for my friend hath sworn, if such happen, that he will ride straight to Marienfliess, and run his sword through thy body without a word. Two horses stand, day and night, ready saddled in my stall, and in a quarter of an hour we are here--he or I, it matters not, whichever is left alive, or both together, and we shall hew thee from head to foot, even as I hew this jar in two that stands upon the table, so that human hand shall never lift it more." So saying, he struck the jar with his sword, when it flew into a thousand pieces, and the beer dashed over the hag's clothes, so that she raised a cry of terror, for such speech had no man ever yet dared to hold to her. But the brave Diliana seized hold of the young knight's sword, crying-- "For God's sake, sir knight, what mean you? You do my good cousin sore injustice; I have never seen you thus before. Sidonia hath declined to take me for her maid, and has helped my poor father, of her own free will, for he was here yesterday, and now rests safe in Saatzig in a deep and healthful sleep; for which cause I come hither to thank my good cousin for her kindness. Where is your justice, sir knight--your honour? Bethink you how often you have extolled these noble virtues yourself to me!" As the knight listened, and heard that her father was already cured, he marvelled greatly; inquired all the particulars, but shook his head at the end, saying-- "'A corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit, and figs are not to be gathered from thorns.' That she has helped your father, I take as no sign of her kindness, but of her fear; therefore my resolve stands good. Sidonia, thou accursed hag, touch but one finger of this maiden or her father, and I will hew thee in pieces, even as I cleft this jar. But you, fair lady, permit me to ride home with you to your father's castle, and see how it stands with the brave knight's health, and whether he has in truth been cured." Meanwhile Sidonia hath spat forth again, and begins running like a wild cat in her rage round the room, so that her kerchief falls off, and her two sharp, dry, ash-coloured shoulder-bones stick up to sight, like pegs for hanging baskets on; and she curses and blasphemes the young knight and his whole race, who, however, cares little for her wrath, but gently taking Diliana by the hand, said tenderly-- "Come, dear lady, come from this hell-hole, and leave the old dragon to dance and rage at her pleasure, as much as she likes." The lady, however, withdrew her hand, saying, "Ride back alone to Saatzig, sir knight! It is not seemly for a young maiden to ride through the wood with a young man alone. Besides, I must stay a little, and comfort my poor cousin for all your hard words--see how you have vexed her!" But Sidonia paused, and laughed loud and long, mocking the young knight's disappointment; so after he had again prayed the maiden in vain to accompany him, he left the refectory in silence, sprang upon his barb, and rode on to the wood, resolving to wait there till Diliana came up. And in truth he had to wait long. At last, however, she appeared through the trees, and on seeing him she was angry, and bade him ride his ways. So my knight entreats for the love of God that she will listen to him, for he can no longer live without her. By day and by night her image floats before him, and wherefore should she be so hard and cruel-hearted towards him? Better to have let him die at once under the hands of the murderers in the forest, than to let him die daily and hourly before her eyes, of the bitter love-death. Was he, then, really such an object of abhorrence to her, such a fire in her eyes? Alas! alas! could she but know his torments!" "Sir knight," she answered, "you are no fire in my eyes, unless it be the cold fire of the moon. Have patience, sir knight; why do you press me for a promise when you have heard my resolve?" _Ille._--"Patience! How could he have patience longer? Ah! her father had long since consented, but she was but as the moon in the brook to the child who tries to lay hold of it, since she had talked of the moon." _Hæc_.--"Sir knight, you compel me to a confidence." _Ille._ (riding up close to her palfrey).--"Speak! dearest Diliana." _Hæc_ (drawing back).--"Come no nearer. What if any one saw us. Listen! Yesterday six weeks, my grandmother, Clara von Dewitz, who died, as you know, giving birth to my father, appeared to me in a dream. She was wrapped in a bloody shroud, and her eyes were starting forth horribly from her head, when I shuddered with terror, and the poor ghost spoke--'Diliana, I am Clara von Dewitz, and thou art the one selected to avenge me, provided thou dost keep thy virgin honour pure in thought, word, and deed!' With this she disappeared, and now, sir knight, judge for yourself what is henceforth my duty." Now the knight tried to laugh her out of her belief in this ghost story, said it was all fancy, the same had often happened to himself; not once, but a hundred times, had he seen a ghost, as he thought, but found out afterwards there was no ghost at all in the business, &c. However, his words and smiles have no effect. She knew what she knew, and whether she was deceived or not about this apparition of her grandmother, time would show, and _bis dalo_, she would remain obedient to her commands, and preserve her virgin honour pure in thought, word, and deed, even if it were to be for her life long, until she saw clearly what purpose God destined her to accomplish. Now as my poor knight began his solicitations again yet more earnestly, the fair maiden drew herself up gravely, and said, "Adieu! sir knight, ride your own path, I go mine! At present I shall select no spouse; but if I ever give my hand to man, you shall be the selected one, sir knight, and no other. Now return to your own castle. If you wish to see my father, come to-morrow to Saatzig, for I shall ride there alone now. Farewell!" And off she cantered on her palfrey, hop, hop, hop, as fast as an arrow from a bow, and her red feathers gleamed through the green leaves of the forest trees, so that my knight stood watching, her, filled with as much joy as sorrow, for the maiden now seemed to him so beautiful, and he watched her as long as a glimpse of her feathers could be had through the trees, and then he listened as long as the tramp of her palfrey could be heard (for he told me this himself), then he alighted, and kneeling down, prayed to God the Lord to bless this beautiful darling of his heart, whilst he sobbed like a child, for sorrow and the sweet anguish of love. Then he rose up, and obedient to her commands, took his way back to the stately castle of Pansin. But next morning early, he was at Saatzig, where the good knight Jobst receives him joyfully at table, quite restored to health. Nor has aught evil happened to the beautiful Diliana, as the knight feared from the spitting of Sidonia. However, he heard from the maiden, that after he left the refectory, Sidonia spat a second time, probably to remove the first witch-spell (for no doubt she feared the knight would hold his word, and hew her in pieces if aught evil happened to the fair young maiden). And for the rest, the knight ceased to trouble Diliana with his solicitations; but he made father and daughter promise to give him instant notice if but a finger ached, and he would instantly find one sure way to bind the wild beast of Marienfliess for ever, namely, with his good sword. CHAPTER XIII. _How my gracious Lord Bishop Franciscus and the reverend Dr. Joel go to the Jews' school at Old Stettin, in order to steal the Schem Hamphorasch, and how the enterprise finishes with a sound cudgelling._ Meanwhile my gracious Duke Francis was puzzling his brain, day and night, how best to bind this malicious dragon, and hinder her from utterly destroying his whole race. He wanted to effect, by the agency of spirits, what George Putkammer had already effected by his good sword, as we have related before. So his Highness must needs send for Dr. Joel, in all haste, to Old Stettin, to ask him whether it were not possible to break the power of the evil witch by spiritual agency; for as to human, it was out of the question, since no one could be found to lay hands on her. They would as soon touch the bodily Satan himself. Whereupon my _magister_ answered, that he had already, to serve his Grace, consulted divers spirits as to what could be done in this sore strait, but none would undertake a contest with Sidonia's spirit, which was powerful and strong, and, acting in concert always with the spirit of old Wolde, had the might in himself, as it were, of two demons. For this reason they must try two modes of casting out the evil thing. The first was to exorcise the sun-spirit, according to the form in the _Clavicula Salomonis_, for he was the most powerful of all the astral spirits, and question him as to what should be done. But for this conjuration a pure young virgin was necessary, not merely pure in act, but in thought, in soul. Even her very garments must be woven by a virgin's hands, otherwise the holy angels, who neither marry nor are given in marriage, would not appear. For they obey only the summons of one who is as pure as themselves, in body and in soul. Such a being he had once possessed in his only little daughter, a virgin of eighteen years. All her clothes had been spun and woven by virgin hands, and as she had a brave spirit, she had often helped him to cite the astral angel _Och_. But the last time she had assisted at the conjuration, the angel himself had strangled her with his own hands, twisting her neck so horribly that her tongue hung out of her mouth. And thus she died before his very face. The cause was, as he, poor father, had heard afterwards, that she had suffered a young student to kiss her, and so the pure virginity of her soul was lost. Now if the gracious Prince knew of any such pure virgin, who besides must be brave and courageous as an amazon, matters would proceed easily, they would make an end of the demon Sidonia without the least difficulty. He had the clothes ready, all spun by virgins; _item_, all the necessary _instruments_. So my gracious Prince sits and thinks awhile, then shakes his head, and says, laughing, "Methinks such a virgin were rarer than a white raven. It would be easy to find one pure in form, but a virgin pure in soul--and then as brave as Deborah and Judith. Mag. Joel, such a virgin, methinks, is not to be had, and you did evil to put your poor little daughter to such a test. For woman-flesh is a weak flesh since the day of Eve, as we all know. But you talked of a second mode: what is it? Let me hear." Hereupon the _magister_ sighed for grief, wiped his eyes, and spake--"Ah, yes! you are right, my good lord. Fool that I was, I might have had my little daughter still, for though she only allowed the student to kiss her, yet by that one kiss the pure mirror of her soul was dimmed, and before the angels of God she was henceforth unholy. However, as touching the second method, it is the Schem Hamphorasch, through which all things are possible." _The Duke_.--"What is the Schem Hamphorasch?" _Ille_.--"The seventy names of the Most High and ever-blessed God, according to the seventy nations, and the seventy tongues, and the seventy elders of Moses, and the seventy disciples of Christ, and the seventy weeks of Daniel. To him who knows this name, the holy God will appear again as He did aforetime in the days of the patriarchs." _The Duke_.--"You are raving, good Joel; yet--but how can this be possible?" _Ille_.--"I am not raving, gracious Prince; for tell me, wherefore is it that the great God does not appear to men now as He did in times long past? I answer, because we no longer know His name. This name, or the Schem Hamphorasch, Adam knew in Paradise, and therefore spake with God, as well as with all animals and plants. Noah, Abraham, Moses, Elijah, &c.--all knew this name, and performed their wonders by it alone. But when the beastly and idolatrous Jews gave themselves over to covetousness and all uncleanness, they forgot this holy name; so, as a punishment, they endured a year of slavery for each of the seventy names which they had forgotten; and we find them, therefore, serving seventy years in Babylonian bonds. After this they never learned it again, and all miracles and wonders ceased from amongst them, until the ever-blessed God sent His Son into the world, to teach them once more the revelation of the Schem Hamphorasch; and to all who believed on Him He freely imparted this name, by which also they worked wonders; and that it might be fixed for ever in their hearts, He taught them the blessed Pater Noster, in which they were bid each day to repeat the words, 'Hallowed be Thy name.' Yea, even in that last glorious high-priestly prayer of His--in face of the bitter anguish and death that was awaiting Him, He says, 'Father, keep them in Thy name;' or, as Luther translates it, 'Keep them above Thy name.' For how easily this name is lost, we learn from David, who says that he spelt it over in the night, so that it might not pass from his mind (Psalm cxix. 55). _Item_, after the resurrection, He gave command to go and baptize all nations-not in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, as Luther has falsely rendered the passage, but _for_, or _by_, the name-that such might always be kept before their eyes, and never more pass away from the knowledge of mankind. And the holy apostles faithfully kept it, and St. Paul made it known to the heathen, as we learn (Acts ix, 15). And all miracles that they performed were by this name. Now the knowledge remained also with the early Christians, and each person was baptized _by_ this name; and he who knew it by heart could work miracles likewise, as we know by Justin Martyr and others, who have written of the power and miraculous gifts of the early Church. But when the pure doctrine became corrupted, and the Christian Church (like the Jewish of former times) gave itself up to idolatry, masses, image-worship, and the like, the knowledge of the mystic name was withdrawn, and all miracles have ceased in the Church from that up to this day." While Magister Joel so spake, his Highness Duke Francis fell into a deep fit of musing. At last he exclaimed, "Good Joel, you are a fanatic, an enthusiast--surely we know the name of God; or what hinders us from knowing it?" _Ille_.--"You err, my gracious Prince, for this name is the holy and mystic _Tetragrammaton_, 'Jehovah,' which is the chief and highest name of God, and which truly is found written in the Scriptures; but of the true pronunciation of the name no man knoweth at this day, for the letters J H V H are wanting in all the old manuscripts." [Footnote: For those who are unacquainted with Hebrew, I shall just observe here, that, in fact, the proper pronunciation of the name "Jehovah" is a vexed question with the learned up to this hour. Ewald, one of the latest authorities, and who has taken much trouble in investigating the subject, says, that there is the highest probability that the word should be pronounced "Jahve," signifying, He who should come (hoxrcho'menos), for which reason the Baptist's disciples asked Christ (Matt. xi. 13), "Art Thou He who should come?"--namely, the Messias, Jahve, or, as we call it, Jehovah. Compare Heb. x. 37; Hagg. ii. 6, 7; Rev. i. 8. I must observe, next, that all the Theophanisms (God manifestations) recorded in the Old Testament, to which the theosophistic, cabalistic Dr. Joel refers, were considered by the earty Christian fathers as manifestations to the senses, not of _God_--whom no man hath seen or can see--but of the asarchos Christ. Even the elder rabbins understand, in these Theophanisms, not _God_, but the Mediator between God and the world--the angel Metatron. For the rest, I need scarcely remark that the exegesis of Dr. Joel is false throughout. The Bible has been so tortured to support each man's individual, strange, crude dogma, that it is no wonder even Protestants are falling back upon _tradition_ as the best and surest interpreter of Scripture, and the clearest light to read it by.] Magister Joel continues--"But be comforted; there were some faithful souls on the earth, who did not entirely lose the remembrance of the Schem Hamphorasch; and your Highness will wonder to hear, that even in this very town the secret exists, in the possession of an old man, who has it, really and truly, locked up in his trunk, though, I confess, he is as great a rogue himself as ever breathed." Hereupon his Grace jumped up, and embraced the _magister_. "Let him not spare the gold; only bring him this treasure. How could it be done? How did the man get it? Let him tell the whole story." _Ille_.--"It was a long story; but he would just give it in brief:--A Jew out of Anklam, named Benjamin, went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; and having suffered great hardships and distress by the way, was taken in and sheltered by a hermit, in the desert, who converted and baptized him. The Jew stayed with the old hermit till he died; and the old man, as a costly legacy, left him the Schem Hamphorasch, written on seventy palm-leaves. But as Benjamin could not read a word of Hebrew, he resolved to return home to Pomerania, where his mother's brother lived-the Rabbi Reuben Ben Joachai, of Stettin. However, when he presented himself, poor and naked as he was, at his uncle's door, the rabbi pushed him away, and shut the door in his face the moment he said he had a favour to ask of him. This treatment so afflicted Benjamin that he took ill on his return to the inn; but having nothing wherewith to pay the host, he sent a message to his uncle, the rabbi, bidding him come to him, as he had a secret to impart. "When the rabbi arrived, Benjamin asked, 'What he would give for the Schem Hamphorasch, for people told him that it was the greatest of all treasures?--to him, however, it was useless, since he could not read Hebrew.' "Hereat the rabbi's eyes sparkled; he took the palm-leaves in his hand, and seeing that all was correct, offered a ducat for the whole; this Benjamin refused. Whereupon, after many cunning efforts to possess himself of it, which were all in vain, the rabbi had to depart without the treasure. However, Benjamin, suspecting that he would come back for it in a little while, cut out two of the leaves from revenge, and when my knave of a rabbi returned, he sold him the incomplete copy for five ducats at last. "This same Benjamin I (the _magister_) attended afterwards in hospital when he was dying, and as the poor wretch had no money, he gave me himself, upon his death-bed, the two abstracted palm-leaves out of gratitude, being all he had to offer. These two are now in my possession, and if we could only obtain the other portion, your Highness would have the holy and mystic Schem Hamphorasch complete. But how to get it? Gold he had already offered in vain to the Jew, Rabbi Reuben, who even denied having the Schem Hamphorasch at all; but his servant, Meir, for a good bribe, told him in confidence that his master, the rabbi, really and in truth had this treasure, though the knave denied the fact to him. It lay in a drawer in the Jewish school, beside the book of the law or the _Thora_, and my magister thought they might manage to gain admittance some night into the Jews' school by bribing the man Meir well. Then they could easily possess themselves of the Schem Hamphorasch (which indeed was of no use to the old knave of a rabbi), for the drawer could be known at once by the tapestry which hung before it, in imitation of the veil of the Temple. If they once had the treasure, the angel Metatron would appear to them, the mightiest of all angels, and his Highness could not only obtain his protection against the devil's magic of the sorceress of Marienfliess, but also induce him to look graciously upon his Grace's dear spouse, whom this evil dragon had bewitched, as all the world saw plainly, so that she remained childless, as well as all the other dukes and duchesses of dear Pomerania land, who were rendered barren and unfruitful likewise by some demon spell." Hereupon his Grace cried out with joy, "True, true! I will make him do all that; and when I obtain the Schem Hamphorasch I will learn it myself by heart, and repeat it day and night like King David, so that it never shall go out of my head--_item_, all priests in the land shall learn it by heart; and I will gather them together three times a year at Camyn, and hear them myself, man by man, repeat this said Schem Hamphorasch, so that never more can it pass from the memory of our Church, as it did from that of the filthy Jews, or the impure Christians of the Papacy." _Summa_.--The rabbi's servant, Meir, is bribed, and he promises to admit them both next night into the Jews' school, for there was to be a meeting there of the elders, and his master, the said Rabbi Reuben Ben Joachai, was to examine a _moranu_ or teacher. They could conceal themselves in the women's gallery, where no one would discover them, and after every one had gone, slip down and take what they pleased out of the drawer, then make off, for he would leave the door open for them--that was all he could do--his master might come, &c. So all was done as agreed upon; the Prince and Mag. Joel crept up to the women's gallery, in which were little bull's-eyes, through which they could see clearly all that was going on; and scarcely were the candles lit when my knave of a rabbi enters (he was a long, dry carl, with a white beard, and ragged coat bound round the waist with a girdle); _item_, the candidate, I think he was called David, a little man, with curly red beard, and long red locks falling down at each side upon his breast; _item_, seven elders, and they place themselves in their great hats round a table. Then the Rabbi Reuben demands of the candidate to pay his dues first, for a knave had lately run away without paying them at all; the dues were ten ducats. When the candidate had reckoned down the gold, Rabbi Reuben commenced to question him in Hebrew; whereupon the other excused himself, said he knew Hebrew, but could not answer in it; prayed, therefore, the master would conduct the examination in German. Hereupon my knave of a rabbi looked grave, seemed to think that would be impossible, consulted with the elders, and finally asked them, if the candidate David paid down each of them two ducats, and ten to himself, would they consent to have the examination conducted in the language of the German sow? Would they consent to this, out of great charity and mercy to the candidate David? "Yea, yea--even so let it be," screamed the elders; "God is merciful likewise." So my David again unbuttoned his coat, and reckoned down the fine; whereupon the examination began in German, and I shall here note part of it down, that all men may know what horrible blindness and folly has fallen upon the Jews, by permission of the Lord God, since they imprecated the blood of Christ upon their own heads. Not even amongst the blindest of the heathen have such base, low, grovelling superstitions and dogmas been discovered as these accursed Jews have forged for themselves since the dispersion, and collected in the Talmud. Well may the blessed Luther say, "If a Christian seeks instruction in the Scripture from a Jew, what else is it than seeking sight from the blind, reason from the mad, life from the dead, grace and truth from the devil?" And this madness and blindness of the accursed race would never have been fully known, only that the examination was held in German (for in general it is conducted in Hebrew, to please the vain Jews), by which means the Prince and Doctor Joel heard every word, and wrote it all down on their return home; and when afterwards his Highness Duke Francis succeeded to the government, he banished this rabbi and the elders, with their whole forge of blasphemy and lies, for ever from his capital. Here, therefore, are some of the most remarkable questions; but I must premise that K. means my Knave, namely, the rabbi, and C. the _Candidates_. [Footnote: Lest my reader might think that what follows is a malicious invention of my own to bring the Jews into disrepute, I shall add the precise page of the Talmud from which each question is taken (from Eisenmenger's "Judaism Unveiled," Königsberg, 1711, and other sources). The Jews, I know, endeavour to deny that they hold these doctrines; but it is nevertheless quite true that all their learned men who have been converted to Christianity since the time of the Reformation confessed that these dogmas were intimately woven into their belief, and formed its groundwork.] _K_.--"Which is holier, the Talmud or the Scriptures?" _C_.--"I think the Talmud." _K_.--"Wherefore, wherefore?" _C_.--"Because Raf Aschi hath said, he who goes from the Hálacha (the Talmudical teaching) to the Scripture will have no more luck; [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Chagiga, fol. X. col. I. Raf Aschi, the author the Gemara, a portion of the Talmud.] and good luck we all prize dearly above all things--eh, my master?" _K._--"Right, right. Who is he like who reads only in the Scripture, and not in the Talmud? What say our fathers of blessed memory?" _C_.--"They say that he is like one who has no God." [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Eruvin.] _K._--"Can the holy and ever-blessed One sin? What is the greatest sin He has committed?" _C._--"First; He made the moon smaller than the sun." _K._--"Our rabbis of blessed memory are doubtful upon this point, as Jonathan, the son of Usiel, says, in the Targum of Moses. [Footnote: The ancient Chaldee paraphrase of the Old Testament is called Targum by the Jews. It is split into the Jerusalemitan, and the Babylonian Targum.] But which is the greatest sin of all that the holy and ever-blessed One committed?" _C._--"I think it was when He forswore himself. [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Sanhedrin.] For He first swore, saith Rabbi Eliaser, that the children of Israel, who were wandering in the desert, should have no part in eternal life; and then His oath lay heavy on Him, so that He got the angel Mi to absolve Him therefrom." _K._--"It was, in truth, a great sin, but a greater, methinks, was, that He created the accursed Nazarene--the Jesu--the idol of the children of Edom. I mean the Christ." _C._--"Rabbi, that is not in the Talmud." _K._--"Fool! it is the same. _I_ have said it, therefore it is true. Knowest thou not, when a rabbi says, 'This thy right hand is thy left, and this thy left hand is thy right,' thou must believe it, or thou wilt be dammed?" [Footnote: Targum upon Deut. xvii. 11.] Here all the elders cried out-- "Yea, yea; the word of a rabbi is more to be esteemed than the words of the law, and their words are more beautiful than the words of the prophets, for they are words of the living God." [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Sanhedrin.] _K._--"Now answer--what says the Talmud of that Adam Belial, that Jesu, that crucified, of whom the Christians say that he was God?" _C._--"That he was the son of an evil woman, who learned sorcery in Egypt, and he hid the sorcery in his flesh, in a wound which he made therein, and with the magic he deceived the people, and turned them from God. He practised idolatry with a baked stone, and prostrated himself before his own idol; and finally, as a fit punishment, he was first stoned to death, upon the eve of the passover, and then hung up upon a cross made of a cabbage-stalk, after which, Onkelos, the fallen Titus' sister's son, conjured him up out of hell." [Footnote: Although the Jews deny that Christ is named in the Talmud, saying that another Jesus is meant, yet Eisenmenger has fully proved the contrary, on the most convincing grounds.] _K_.--"Is it possible to find more detestable Gojim than these impure and dumb children of Talvus--these Christian swine?" [Footnote: Children of Edom, children of harlots, swine, dogs, abominations, worshippers of the crucified, idolaters, are titles of honour freely given to Christians by the rabbis.--See Eisenmenger.] _C_.--"No; that were impossible." _K_.--"It permitted us to deceive them and spoil them of their goods." _C_.--"Eh? Wherefore are we the selected people, if we could not spoil the children of Edom? They are our slaves, for we have gold and they have none." _K_.--"Good, good; but where is it written that we may spoil the swine and take their goods?" _C_.--"The Talmud says, it is permitted to deceive a Goi, and take his goods." [Footnote: Tract. Bava Mezia.] _K_.--"Forget not the principal passage, Tract. Megilla, fol. 13--'What, is it then permitted to the just to deal deceitfully? And he answered, Yea, for it is written, With the pure thou shalt be pure, and with the froward thou shalt learn frowardness.' [Footnote: 2 Sam. xxii. 27; a specimen of how the Talmudists interpret the Bible.] _Item_, it is written expressly in the _Parascha Bereschith_, 'It is permitted to the just to deal deceitfully, even as Jacob dealt;' and if our fathers of blessed memory acted thus, we were fools indeed not to skin the Christian dogs and flog them to the death. (Spitting out.) Curse on the unclean swine!" _C._--"I will be no such fool, rabbi, and if they compel me to take an oath, I will do as Rabbi Akkiva of blessed memory." _K._--"Right, my son; pity thou canst not speak Hebrew; methinks then thou wouldst have been a light in Israel. Speak--how hath the Rabbi Akkiva sworn?" _C._--"The Talmud says, 'Hereupon the Rabbi Akkiva took the oath with his lips, but in his heart he abjured it." [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Calla.] _K._--"The Rabbi Akkiva, of blessed memory, was but a sorry liver. Canst thou, too, defend the violation of the marriage vow?" _C._--"With the wives of the unclean Christian dogs, wherefore not? For Moses saith (Lev. xx. 10), 'He who committeth adultery with his _neighbour's_ wife shall be put to death;' so saith the Talmud, the wives of _others_ are excepted; and Rabbi Solomon expressly says on this passage, that under the word 'others' the wives of Gojim, or the Christian dogs, are meant." [Footnote: Eisenmenger quotes a prayer-book of the Jews on this subject, called _The Great Tephilla_.] _K._--"Yea, cursed be they and their whole race. Dost thou curse them daily, as is thy duty?" _C._--"My duty is to curse them once; I curse them thrice." [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Sanhedrin.] _K._--"Then wilt thou be recompensed threefold when Messias comes, and the fine dishes and the fine clothes will grow out of the blessed earth of themselves, that it will be a pleasure to see them. [Footnote: Talmud, tract. Kethuvoth.] Speak--what saith the Talmud? How large will the grapes then be?" _C._--"So large that a man will put a single grape in the corner of his house, and tap it as if it were a beer-barrel. Is not that almost too large, master!" _K_.--"Look at my pert wisehead! Knowest thou not, that he who mocks the words of the wise goes straight to hell, as happened to that disciple who laughed at the Rabbi Jochanan when he said that precious stones should be set in the gates of Jerusalem, three ells long and three ells broad? [Footnote: Talmud, tract Bava Bathra.] _Item_, hast thou not read how Rabbi Jacob Ben Dosethai went one morning from Lud to Ono for three miles in pure honey, or how Rabbi Ben Levi saw grapes in the land of Canaan so large that he mistook them for fatted calves. What, then, will it not be when Messias comes? [Footnote: In tractat Kethuvoth] But who will _not_ partake these blessings?" _C._--"The accursed swine, the Christians." [Footnote: Eisenmenger ii. 777, &c. On this point he brings forward numerous quotations from the later rabbinical writings; for it is certain that on _this_ subject the Talmud judges more mildly.] _K_.--"Wherefore not?" _C._--"Because they cat swine's flesh, and believe on the Talvus, who deceived the people through his sorceries." _K_.--"All true; but when the Talmud says that the impure Nazarene brought all his sorceries out of Egypt, what say our rabbis of blessed memory against that?" _C._--"That he secretly stole the Schem Hamphorasch out of the Temple, and stitched it into his flesh." [Footnote: An extract from the horrible book of curses against the Saviour, the _Toledotk Jeschu_, is given in Eisenmenger; the entire is printed in Dr. Wagenseil's _Tela Ignea Satanæ_] _K_.--"What is the Schem Hamphorasch?" _C._--"God's wonder, His greatest! the seventy names of the holy and ever-blessed God; and to him who knows them will the angel Metatron appear, as he appeared to our forefathers, and all stones can he turn to diamonds, and all loam to gold." _K_.--"Dost thou know, my son, that I myself possess this Schem Hamphorasch?" _C_ (clasping his hands).--"Wonder of God! can it be? And have you all these riches?" _K_.--"One of the accursed Christian dogs deceived me, and kept back two of the leaves (may God plague him in eternity for it), but still it effects much. I sell the holy Schem in little pieces, as a cure for all diseases; yea, even bits no larger than a grain will bring three ducats; _item_, I sell bits of it to the dying to lay upon their stomachs, that so they may gain eternal blessedness. Wilt thou buy a little grain too--eh? Ask the elders here if ever better physic were found than the least grain of dust from the holy Schem Hamphorasch?" So the elders swore as my knave bid them, and said that no better physic could be, and told of the various diseases which it had cured in their own persons; _item_, that no Jew in the whole town was without a morsel, be it large or small, to lay on his stomach when dying; "but the greater the piece," said the rabbi, "the greater the blessedness." Now as the red-haired disciple seemed much inclined to purchase a bit, the rabbi went over to the drawer, withdrew the tapestry, and lifting up the golden jad, [Footnote: The jad--a gold or silver hand with which a priest pointed out each line to the reader of the Tora.] pointed smilingly to the palm-leaves therein with it. "This," he said to the disciple, "was the ever-blessed Schem Hamphorasch itself, if he had not already believed his words." Meanwhile the aforesaid Meir, the rabbi's servant, crept forth from under the women's gallery, and spake--"Now may ye stick two Christian dogs dead, who are hiding here to steal the blessed golden treasure from my master the rabbi: the clock has struck eleven, and the Christian swine are snoring in all quarters of the city. Up to the women's gallery! up to the women's gallery! There they sit! Their six ducats I have safe: kill the dumb uncircumcised dogs! strike them dead! For a ducat I will fling them into the Oder. Come, come! here are knives! here are knives." When the Duke and Doctor Joel heard all this, and saw all through the little bulls'-eyes, they jumped up and clattered down the stairs, the Duke drawing his dagger, which by good luck he had brought with him. But the Jews are already on them, and the rabbi strikes the Duke on the face with the golden jad, screaming-- "Accursed dog! there is one golden blow for thee, and a second golden blow for thee, and a third golden blow for thee; put them out to interest, and thou wilt have enough to buy the Schem Hamphorasch." And the others fell upon the doctor, beating him till their fists were bloody, and sticking him with their knives. So my _magister_ roared, "Oh, gracious lord! tell your name, I beseech you, or in truth they will murder us--they will beat us to death!" But the Duke had hit the rabbi such a blow with his dagger across the hand, that the golden jad fell to the ground, and the Duke, leaning his back against a pillar, hewed right and left, and kept them all at bay. But this did not help, for the traitor knave, Meir, creeping along on his knees, got hold of the Duke's foot, and lifting it up suddenly in the air, made him lose his balance, and my gracious Prince stumbled forward, and the dagger fell far from his hand, upon which he cried out, "Listen, ye cursed Jewish brood! I am your Prince, the Duke of Pomerania! My brother shall make ye pay for this: your flesh shall be torn from the bones, and flung to dogs by to-morrow, if you do not instantly give free passage to me and my attendant." Then taking his signet from his finger, he held it up, and cried, "Look here, ye cursed brood; here are my arms--the ducal Pomeranian arms--behold! behold!" At this hearing, the rabbi turned as pale as chalk, and all the others started back from Dr. Joel, trembling with terror, while the Duke continued--"We came not here to steal the Schem Hamphorasch, as your traitor knave has given out, but to hear your accursed Satan's crew with our own ears, which also we have done." "Oh, your Highness," cried the rabbi, "it was a jest--all a mere innocent jest. The accursed knave is guilty of all. Come, gracious Prince, I will unbar the door; it was a jest--may I perish if it was anything more than a merry jest, all this you have heard." And scarcely had the door been closed upon the Duke and Dr. Joel, when they heard the Jews inside falling upon the traitorous knave and beating him till he roared for pain, as if in truth they had stuck him on a pike. But they cared little what became of him, and hastened back with all speed to the ducal residence. CHAPTER XIV. _How the Duke Francis seeks a virgin at Marienfliess to cite the angel Och for him--Of Sidonia's evil plot thereupon, and the terrible uproar caused thereby in the convent._ After his Highness found that to obtain the Schem Hamphorasch was an impossible thing, he resolved to seek throughout all Pomerania for a pure and brave-hearted virgin, by whose aid he could break Sidonia's demon spells, and preserve his whole princely race from fearful and certain destruction. He therefore addressed a circular to all the abbesses, conjecturing that if such a virgin were to be found, it could only be in a cloister; and this was the letter:-- "FRANCISCUS, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, DUKE OF POMERANIA, STETTIN, CASSUBEN, AND WENDEN, BISHOP OF CAMYN, PRINCE OP RUGEN, COUNT OF GUTZKOW, LORD OF THE LANDS OF LAUENBURG AND BUTOW, &C. "WORTHY ABBESS, TRUSTY AND GOOD FRIEND,--Be it known to you that we have immediate need of the services of a pure virgin--but in all honour--and are diligently seeking for such throughout our ducal and ecclesiastical states; but understand, not alone a virgin in act--for they can be met with in every house--but a virgin in soul, pure in thought and word, for by her agency we mean to build up a holy and virtuous work; as Gregory Nyssensis says (_De Virginitate_, Opp. tom. ii. fol. 593):--'Virginity must be the fundamentum upon which all virtue is built up, then are the works of virtue noble and holy; but virginity, which is only of the form, and exists not in the soul, is nothing but a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, or a pearl which is trodden under foot of swine.' "Further, the said virgin must be of a brave, steadfast, and man-like spirit, who fears nothing, and can defy death and the devil, if need be. "If ye have such a virgin, upon whom, with God's help, I can build up my great virtuous work, send her to our court without delay, and know that we shall watch over such virgin with all princely goodness and clemency; but know also, that if on trial such virgin is not found pure in thought and word, great danger is in store for her, perchance even death. "Signatum Camyn, 1st September 1617. "FRANCISCUS, _manu sua_. "_Postscriptum._--Are the winter gloves ready? Forget not to send them with the beer-waggon; my canons esteem them highly." When this letter reached the abbess of Marienfliess by the beer-waggon of the honourable chapter of Camyn, she was much troubled as to how she ought to proceed. Truly there were two young novices lately arrived, of about fifteen or sixteen, named Anna Holborne and Catharina Maria von Wedel. These the abbess thought would assuredly suit his Highness--_item_, they were of a wonderful brave spirit, and had gone down at night to the church to chase away the martens, though they bit them cruelly, because they prevented the people sleeping; and, further, never feared any ghost-work or devil's work that might be in the church, but laughed over it. When these same virgins, however, heard what the abbess wanted, they excused themselves, and said they had not courage to peril their lives, though in truth they were pure virgins in thought and word. But they could not hold their tongue quiet, but must needs blab (alas, woe!) to Anna Apenborg, who runs off instantly to the refectory to Sidonia, whom she had appeased by means of some sausages, and tells her the whole story, and of his Grace's wonderful letter. So my hag laughed--never suspecting that she was the cause of all--and said, "She would soon make out if such a virgin were to be found in the convent; but would Anna promise secrecy?" And when the other asseverated that she would be as silent as a stone in the earth, my hag continued-- "I have got a receipt from that learned man, Albertus Magnus--his book upon women--and we shall try it upon the nuns; but thou must hold thy tongue, Anna." "Oh, she would sooner have her tongue cut out than blab a word; but what was the receipt?" Here Sidonia answered, "She would soon see. She would give the sisterhood a little of her fine beer to drink, with some of it therein; and as she had got fresh sausages, and other good things in plenty by her, she would pray the abbess and the whole convent to dine with her on the following Monday; then the dear sister should see wonders." And in truth my hag was so shameless, that on Sunday, after church, she prayed all the virgins, saying, "Would the dear sisters eat their mid-day meal with her next day, to show that they forgave her, if she had ever been over-hasty? Ah, God! she loved peace above everything; but they must each bring their own can, for she had not cans enough for all; and her new beer was worth tasting-a better beer had she never brewed." _Summa_.--All the sisterhood gladly accepted her invitation, thinking from her Christian mildness of speech in the church that she indeed wished to be reconciled to them; _item_, the abbess promised to come, holding that compliance brings grace, but harshness disfavour; but here the reverse was the case. Early on this same Monday, the waggon returned laden with beer for the honourable chapter, and the abbess despatched an answer by it to his Highness the Bishop, as follows:-- MOST REVEREND BISHOP AND ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE, MY FRIENDLY SERVICES TO YOUR GRACE. "GRACIOUS LORD,--Concerning the matter of which your Highness writes, I think there is no lack here of such virgins as you describe, but none are of steadfast enough heart to brave the great danger with which your Highness says they are menaced; for we have a nature like all women, and are weak and faint-hearted. But, methinks, there is one brave enough, and in all things pure, who would be of the service your Grace demands--I mean Diliana Bork, daughter of Jobst Bork of Saatzig; I counsel your Grace, therefore, to try her. "Now, as touching the winter gloves, I shall send some along with this; but Sidonia will knit no gloves, and says, 'The fat canons are like enough to old women already, without putting gloves on them;' by which your Highness may judge of her impure mouth. God better her. "Your princely Grace's and my reverend Bishop's humble servant and subject, "MAGDELENA V. PETERSDORFIN. "Marienfliess, 5th Sept. 1617." Now when twelve o'clock struck, and mid-day shone on the blessed land, all the nuns proceeded in their long black habits and white veils to Sidonia's apartment, each with her beer-can in her hand (woe is me! how soon they rushed back again in storm and anger). Then they sat down to the sausages and other good morsels, while Anna Apenborg was on tiptoe of expectation to see what would happen; and old Wolde was there quite well again (for ill weeds never die--no winter is cold enough for that). And she filled each of their cans with the beer which Sidonia had brewed, after a new formula; but, lo! no sooner had they tasted it than first Dorothea Stettin starts up, and Sidonia asks what ails her. To which she answers: "She is not superstitious, but there was surely something wrong in the beer. She felt quite strange." And she left the room, then another, and another--in fine, all who had tasted the beer started up in like manner and followed Dorothea. Only the abbess and some others who had not partaken of it remained. Anna Apenborg had disappeared amongst the first, and presently a terrific cry was heard from the courtyard, as if not alone the cloister, but the whole world was in flames. Curses, cries, menaces, threats, screams, all mingled together, and shouts of "Run for a broomstick! the accursed witch! the evil hag! let us punish her for this!" Whereupon the abbess jumps up, flings open the window, and beholds Dorothea Stettin so changed in mien, voice, gestures--in fine, in her whole being--that she was hardly to be recognised. She looks black and blue in the face, has her fists clenched, stamps with her feet, and screams. "For God's sake! what ails you, Dorothea?" asked the alarmed abbess. But no answer can she hear; for all the virgins scream, roar, howl, and curse in one grand chorus, as if indeed the last day itself were come. So she runs down the steps as quick as she can, while Sidonia looks out at the window, and laughing, said, "Eh, dear sisters, this is a strange pastime you have got; better come up quickly, or the pudding will be cold." At this the screeching and howling were redoubled, and Dorothea spat up at the window, and another flung up a broomstick, so that my hag got a bloody nose, and drew in her head screaming now likewise. Then they all wanted to rush up into the refectory, each armed with a broomstick to punish Sidonia, and they would not heed the abbess, who still vainly asked what had angered them? but the other sisters who were descending met them half way, and prevented their ascent; whereupon the abbess raised her voice and called out loud: "Whoever does not return instantly at my command as abbess, shall be imprisoned forthwith, and condemned to bread and water for a whole day! _Item_, whoever speaks until I address her, shall be kept half-a-day on bread and water. Now Dorothea, speak--you alone, and let every one of you descend the steps and return here to the courtyard." This menace availed at last, and with many sobs and groans, Dorothea at last told of Sidonia's horrible plot, as Anna Apenborg had explained to them. How she had invited them on purpose to disgrace them for ever in the eyes of the Prince and of the whole world, and the abbess could now judge herself, if they had not a right to be angry. But she must have her sub-prioret back again, out of which the scandalous witch had tricked her, and the abbess must forthwith despatch a messenger to his Highness, praying him to chase this unclean beast out of the convent, and into the streets again, from which they had taken her; for neither God nor man had peace or rest from her. Sidonia overhearing this from the window, stretched out her grey head again, wiped away with her hand the blood that was streaming from her nose, and then menacing the abbess with her bloody fist, screamed out, "Write if you dare! write if you dare!" So the curses, howls, yells, screeches, all break loose again; some pitch their shoes up at the windows, others let fly the broomsticks at the old hag, and Dorothea cried out, "Let all pure and honourable virgins follow me!" Yet still a great many of the sisters gathered round the abbess, weeping and wringing their hands, and praying for peace, declaring they would not leave her; but all the younger nuns, particularly they who had drunk of Sidonia's accursed beer, followed the sub-prioress, and as the discontented Roman people withdrew once to the Aventine mount, so the cloister malcontents withdrew to the Muhlenberg, howling and sobbing, and casting themselves on the ground from despair. In vain the abbess ran after them, conjuring them not to expose themselves before God and man: it was all useless, my virgins screamed in chorus--"No, that they would never do, but to the cloister they would not return till the princely answer arrived, expelling the dragon for ever. Let what would become of them, they would not return. The jewel of their honour was dearer to them than life." Now Sidonia was watching all this from her window, and as she justly feared that now in earnest the wrath and anger of the two Princes would fall on her, she goes straight to the abbess, who sits in her cell weeping and wringing her hands, menaces her again with her bloody fist, and says, "Will you write? will you write? ay, you may, but you will never live to hear the answer!" Upon which, murmuring to herself, she left the chamber. What can the poor abbess do? And the cry now comes to her, that not only the miller and his men, but half the town likewise, are gathered round the virgins. Oh, what a scandal! She wrings her hands in prayer to God, and at last resolves to lay down her poor life, so that she may fulfil her hard duty bravely as beseems her, goes then straight to the Muhlenberg and arranges the evil business thus:--Let the virgins return instantly to the cloister, and she would herself write to the Duke, and despatch the messenger this very night. But she begged for just two hours to herself, that she might make her will, and send for the sheriff's secretary to draw it up properly; also to search for her shroud which lay in her chest. For since her cruel children demanded her life, she would give it to them. The Duke's answer she would never live to hear. So Sidonia had prophesied just now. Then she descended the hill, chanting that beautiful hymn of Dr. Nicolai's, while the virgins followed, and some lifted up their weeping voices in unison with hers:-- 'Awake! the watchers on the tower Chant aloud the midnight hour; Awake, thou bride Jerusalem! Through the city's gloomy porches See the flashing bridal torches; Awake, thou bride Jerusalem! Come forth, come forth, ye virgin choir, Light your lamps with altar fire! Hallelujah! in His pride Comes the Bridegroom to His bride; Awake, thou fair Jerusalem! Zion heard the watchers singing, From her couch in beauty springing, She wakes, and hastens joyful out. Lo! He comes in heavenly beauty, Strong in love, in grace, in duty; Now her heart is free from doubt. Light and glory flash before Him, Heaven's star is shining o'er Him, On His brow the kingly crown, For the Bridegroom is THE SON. Hallelujah! follow all To the heavenly bridal-hall, There the Lamb holds festival!' But behold, as they reached the convent gates, chanting their heavenly melody, there stood the demon-witch, dancing and singing her hellish melody-- "Also kleien und also kratzen, Meine Hunde und meine Katzen." And old Wolde and the cat, in his little red stockings, danced right and left beside her. At this horrible sight the poor virgins scampered off hither and thither to their cells, like doves flying to their nests, without uttering a word, only the abbess exclaimed--"But two hours, my children, in the church!" Whereupon she goes, makes her will, and prepares her shroud. _Item_, sends for the dairy-mother, gives her the shroud. _Item_, a sack of moss and hops to make a pillow for her coffin, for such she would like her poor corpse to have. Then sends for the convent carpenter, and makes him take her measure for a coffin; and, lastly, strengthened in God, goes to the church to write her own death-warrant, namely, the letter to his Highness. Yet many of the virgins, for fear of Sidonia, refused to affix their signatures thereto, among whom was Anna Apenborg, who, as soon as she left the church, ran up to the refectory to chatter over the whole business with Sidonia. _Item_, how the new convent-porter was to be sent that same midnight with the letter to his Highness. So Sidonia began now to scold, because Anna could not hold her tongue, and had betrayed her secret to the sisters. But the other said-- "She thought it was all a pure jest, and had told them for fun, that they might have a good laugh together; for how could she know that they would all grow raging mad like that!" So my hag forgave her, and bid her sit down and eat some sausage for her supper, in return for the news she had brought her. Meanwhile, she would write a letter to his Highness likewise, and Anna should give it to the convent-porter, to take with him along with that of the abbess. This was the letter:-- "SERENE PRINCE AND GRACIOUS LORD,-- "Now will your Highness perceive, by this writing, how faithful and true a servant I am to your princely house, though the godless world has raised up an evil cry against me in your Highness's ears. Gracious Prince, the reverend Lord Bishop wrote to our worthy abbess of Marienfliess, bidding her seek out for him a virgin, pure in thought, word, and deed, by whose help he might perform some great virtue-work. Now, the abbess confided her perplexities on the matter to me, as sub-prioress; whereupon I said, 'That to serve your Highness, I would show whether such a virgin were in the convent, but she must keep silence;' this she promised. Whereon I brewed a drink, according to Albertus Magnus--it is at the 95th page--and bade them all to dinner, when I secretly put the drink into some of my best beer. Now Albertus states that the drink will have no effect on a pure virgin, only on the reverse. Your Highness, therefore, may judge what sort of sisterhood we have, when, no sooner had they drank, than almost all rose up raging mad, and rushed out of the convent into the courtyard, where such a _scandalum_ arose--screams, curses, yells, and shrieks, that your Grace may surely judge no honourable virgin was to be found amongst them. In fact, the worthy abbess, a few others, and I myself, were the only persons who remained unaffected by the draught. Therefore, I counsel our gracious Bishop to select one from amongst us, for his great virtue-work. I, indeed, have the strongest heart of all, and the bravest courage. "But, assuredly, the worst of all these light wantons was Dorothea Stettin, from whom I received the sub-prioret, because, as your Grace heard, she held unchaste discourse during her illness, and, therefore, is as much suited to be sub-prioress as a jewel of gold to a swine's snout. She, therefore, drew off all the other raging wantons to the Muhlenberg, declaring that they would not return until I, who had done this great service to my Lord Bishop, was turned out into the streets. Then the lewd common folk gathered round the sisters on the hill, who betrayed their own evil case, methinks, by their rage, and mocked and jeered them, till the abbess herself had to go forth and entreat them to return; but they despised her, and the sheriff must needs gallop up with his horsewhip, and whip them before him, but in vain; the evil is too strong in them. They still said, that I, unfortunate maiden, 'must be accused to your Highness of all this scandal,' for the silly abbess had betrayed what I had done; 'and that till I was turned out of the convent, they would not come back.' Now the poor abbess fell sick at such base contempt and insult to her authority, and, feeling her end near, she made her will, and took out the shroud from her trunk, and had the carpenter to measure her for her coffin, and at last consented to write to your Grace, because by no other means would these evil wantons be satisfied, or the great scandal and disgrace to the convent be averted. But, I think, if your Grace would write her a private letter, she would change her opinion (Ah, yes, the hag means her to receive it!) and make a far different resolve when your Grace sees how true and faithful I have acted as, "Your Highness's most humble maiden, "SIDONIA BORK, "Otto Bork's only and unfortunate orphan. "Marienfliess, 6th Sept. 1617. "P.S.--If she dies, I pray your Grace to hold me in your remembrance." CHAPTER XV. _Of the death of the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorfin--Item, how Duke Francis makes Jobst Bork and his daughter, Diliana, come to Camyn, and what happens there._ Now the messenger had hardly departed, when Sidonia arranged her food for three days, laid two new brooms crosswise under the table; _item_, had her bath carried up by old Wolde from the kitchen to the refectory, and lastly, locked herself up, giving out that she must and will pray to God to pardon her fallen sisters for all their sins, and that up to Friday night no one should disturb her. _Summa_.-The unfortunate abbess ascertained, but too well, that same night, what such praying betokened. She screamed out, like all the others, that it seemed as if a miner was in her breast, and hammered there, striving to raise up the bones; and the good dairy-mother, a pious and tender-hearted creature, not very old either, never left her side during all her martyrdom. For three days and three nights she took no rest, but watched by the sick abbess; lifting her from the bed to the cold floor, and from the cold floor to the bed, and refused a piece of gold the abbess offered for her trouble, begging it might be given to Lisa Behlken, a little gipsy maiden, whose thievish and heathenish parents had left her behind them in the town, but who had been taken in and sheltered by the poor widow, though she had enough to do to get her living alone. _Summa_.--On the Friday night the worthy abbess expired in horrible tortures; and, in consequence, such a fear and horror fell upon the whole convent, that they trembled and shook like aspen leaves, and bitterly repented now of their folly with loud cries and weeping, in having, with their own hands, helped to cast down their only stay and support. So, next morning, Sidonia summoned the whole chapter to her apartment, drew herself up like a black adder, as she was, menaced them with her dry fists, and spake-- "See now, ye shameless wantons, what ye have done! Ye have murdered the worthy abbess, though she told you herself, it would be her death if ye came not down from the Muhlenberg; giving up your honour and the honour of our convent, ye vile crew, as a prey to the malicious world. In vain have I cried to God three days and three nights for pardon for your heavy sins, and for support for our dear mother; your sins are an offence to the Lord, and He would not hearken to me. For this morning I hear, to my great terror, that the good abbess, just as I feared, has been done to death by your vile obduracy and disobedience." As the blasphemous devil thus went on, all were silent round her. Even Dorothea Stettin had not a word--for, though her wrath was great, her fear was yet greater. Only Anna Apenborg, who had her eyes always about, cried out--"See there, dear sisters, there comes the porter back from Old Stettin. Ah, that he should find our good mother in her coffin, as she prophesied!" So Sidonia despatches a sister for the princely letter, and bids the others remain; and when the letter is brought, Sidonia breaks the seal, runs over the contents to herself, laughs, and then says, at last-- "Listen to the message his Grace sends to our, alas! now dead mother, as a kind and just father!" Reads-- "HONOURABLE MOTHER, WORTHY ABBESS,-- "As our serene and gracious Prince is just setting off to hunt with the illustrious patricio, Philip Heinhofer of Augsburg, his Grace bids me say that he will visit the convent himself next month on his way to New Stettin, to advise with you, and investigate, in person, this evil business with the sisterhood. As to Sidonia, he reserves a different treatment for her. "Your good son and friend, "FRANCISCA BLODOW," Ducal Secretary. "Old Stettin, 8th Sept. 1617." Hereupon she stuck the letter in her pocket, clapped her hand over it, and continued-- "That is what I call a just, good father; and if I had not interposed with Christian charity, who knows what heaps of vile, shameless wantons might not be cast forth upon the streets. But I remember the words of my heavenly Bridegroom--'Forgive, and it shall be forgiven you!' And now to end, good sisters, since our worthy mother is no more, we must have a ruler over this uproarious convent. Therefore, let us proceed at once to elect her successor from amongst ourselves, that so our gracious Prince may be able to confirm your choice on his arrival next month. Proceed, then, since ye are all assembled here, that the convent may know in whom it may place confidence. Speak, Anna Apenborg, whom dost thou name for an abbess, my much-loved sister?" With Sidonia's sausage still in her stomach, what else could she do, but bow and say-- "I think no one so worthy as our good sister Sidonia." Hereat laughed my hag, and went on to ask the other virgins; and all those who had not been affected by the hellish drink cried out "Sidonia!" while those who had been were afraid to dissent, and so cried out too for her. In fine, "Sidonia! Sidonia!" was heard from all lips, and so they took her for their abbess, whom but a few days before they would have flung out into the streets. Even Dorothea Stettin consented, on condition that she received back the sub-prioret. Whereupon Sidonia loosed her veil with the one golden key, and restored it to Dorothea with the Judas kiss; then bid her fetch the veil of the abbess with the two golden keys, for this was an heirloom in the cloister. When it arrived, Sidonia goes to her trunk, and takes out a large regal cape that looked like ermine, but was only white cat's skin. She hung this upon her neck, and exclaimed-- "Hitherto I was lady of castles and lands--now, as abbess, I am of princely rank, for many princesses were abbesses in the time of the Papacy; therefore, it is meet that I array myself as a princess, and I command ye all to treat me as a princess, and honour me as your abbess, and kiss my hand, which is the proper, due, and fitting reverence to be paid to my rank. The late worthy matron, indeed, suffered ye to treat her with little respect, and your late vile contempt of her on the Muhlenberg shows (God be good to us!) but too well what fruit her neglect of these things brought forth." Truly the pride of this hag was equal to her wickedness; for mark, already for a year and a day before this, she had made the convent-porter and others bring her white cats and black cats; these she killed and skinned, and sewed the black cats' tails on the white skins, to make a show withal, for ermine skin was above her price, I am thinking. Yet no one knew wherefore she killed the cats, and for what cause. Now it all came to light. No doubt these circumstances gave rise to that error which runs through the Pomeranian cotemporary authors, who assert all of them, that Sidonia was abbess of Marienfliess--though, in truth, she never was duly elected. [Footnote: Cramer and Mikrælius make the same mistake.] But let us return now to his Highness, Bishop Francis. He sent to Jobst Bork, bidding him come instantly to Camyn with his little daughter, Diliana. They knew nothing of his Grace's purpose, but were soon informed on entering the episcopal palace. For, after his Highness, with whom was Doctor Joel, desired them to be seated, the Doctor placed Diliana upon a stool, close to the window, beside which my magister had hung up a magic screen on purpose; and, as the blessed sun poured in through the window, Diliana's beautiful, delicate form was shadowed forth upon the pure white linen with which it was covered. Whereupon the magister bent down, stuck his hands on his fat sides, knit his brows, and contemplated the image steadily for some time; then, starting up, gave a loud huzzah, and cried out-- "Gracious Prince, we have found it, we have found it! Here is a pure virgin. I know by the formation of the shadows along the virgin-linen that she is pure as the sun-angel--as the ascending morning dew." Here Jobst Bork shook his head, and the maiden blushed to her finger-ends, and looked down ashamed in her lap. Then his Grace said, laughing-- "Do not wonder at our joy, for the destiny of our whole race, good Jobst, lies now in you and your daughter's hands. Through the witchcraft of Sidonia Bork, as ye know, and all the world testifies, our ancient race has been melted away till but a few dry twigs remain, and no young eyes look up to us when our old eyes are failing. But what Sidonia Bork has destroyed, Diliana Bork, by God's help, can restore. For, mark! after all human help had been found of no avail, this man whom ye see here, a _magister artium_ of Grypswald, Joel by name, inquired of the spirits how the great evil could be turned away from our race; but they declared that none knew except the sun-angel, because he saw all that passed upon the earth. This angel, however, being the greatest of all spirits, will not appear unless a brave and pure virgin--pure in thought, word, and work--stand within the magic circle; therefore, we have sent for your daughter, hearing that she was such an one, and the magister hath proved the truth of the report even now. It rests with you, therefore, much-prized Diliana, sister to the angels in purity, and last and only hope of my perishing race, to save them at my earnest petition." When he ended, Diliana remained quite silent, but Jobst wriggled on his chair, and at last spake-- "Serene Prince, you know me for the most obedient of your subjects, but with the devil's work I will have nothing to do; besides, I see not why you must trouble spirits about my evil cousin, the sorceress of Marienfliess. Send to my castellan of Pansin, George Putkammer, he will thrust her in a sack to-night, and carry her to-morrow to Camyn--_that_ you may believe, my Lord Duke!" Then he related what the brave knight had done, and how Sidonia had in truth left him in peace ever since, all through fear of the young knight's good sword. His Grace wondered much at this. "Never could I have believed that so stouthearted a man was to be found in all Pomerania--one that would dare to touch this notorious witch." And he fell into deep musing, keeping his eyes upon Jobst's jack-boots, in which he had stuck a great hunting-knife. At last he spake--"But if I seize her and burn her, will it be better with our race? I trow not; for she can leave the evil spell on us, perhaps, even if she were a hundred times burned. Her magic hath great power. Will burning her break the spell? No; we must act more cunningly with the dragon. Earth cannot help us in this. And here you see, Jobst, why I demand your daughter's help to conjure the angels of God." "Then seek another virgin, my Prince," answered Jobst, "mine you shall never have. I have been once in the devil's claws, and I won't thrust myself into them again--much less my only darling child, whom I love a thousand times better than my life. No, no, her body and soul shall never be endangered by my consent." "But where is the danger?" said the Duke. "It is with an angel, not a devil, your daughter is to speak; and surely no evil, then, could happen to our dear and chaste little sister?" At last Diliana exclaimed eagerly, "Ah; can it be possible to speak with the blessed angels, as the evil women speak with the devil? In truth, I would like to see an angel." At this the Duke looked significantly at the magister, who immediately advanced, and began to explain the _opus magicum et theurgicum_ to the maiden, as follows:-- "You know, fair young virgin, that our Saviour saith of the innocent children, 'Their angels always see the face of My Father which is in heaven' (Matt xviii.). _Item/_, St. Paul (Heb. i.): 'Are not the angels ministering spirits, sent forth for the service of those who are heirs of salvation?' This is no new doctrine, but one as old as the world. For you know, further, that Adam, Noah, the holy patriarchs, the prophets, &c., talked with angels, because their faith was great. _Item_, you know that, even in the New Testament, angels were stated to have appeared and talked with men; but later still, during the papal times even, the angels of God appeared to divers persons, as was well known, and of their own free will. For they did not always appear of _free will_; and therefore, from the beginning, conjurations were employed to _compel/_ them, and fragments of these have come down to us _ex traditione_, as we magistri say, from the time of Shem, the son of Noah, who revealed them to his son Misraim; and so, from son to son, they have reached to our day, and are still powerful." "But," spake Diliana, "is it then possible for man to compel angels?" _Ille_.-"Yes, by three different modes; first, through the word, or the intellectual vinculum; secondly, through the heavenly bodies, or the astral vinculum; lastly, through the earthly creatures, or the elementary vinculum. "Respecting first the _word_, you know that all things were made by it, and without it was nothing made that is made. With God the Lord, therefore, _word_ and _thing_ are one and the same; for when He speaks it is done; He commands, and it stands there. Also, with our father, Adam, was the _word_ all-powerful; for he ruled over all beasts of the field, and birds, and creeping things by the _name_ which he gave unto them, that is, by the _word_ (Gen. ii.). This power, too, the word of Noah possessed, and by it he drew the beasts into the ark (Gen. vii.); for we do not read that he _drave_ them, which would be necessary now, but they _went_ into the ark after him, two and two, _i.e._, compelled by the power of his word. " Next follows the _astral vinculum, i.e._, the sympathy between us and those heavenly bodies or stars wherein the angels dwell or rule. We must know their divers aspects, configurations, risings, settings, and the like, also the precise time, hour, and minute in which they exercise an influence over angel, man, and lower creatures, according as the ancients, and particularly the Chaldeans have taught us; for spirit cannot influence spirit at every moment, but only at particular times and under particular circumstances. "Lastly comes the _elementary vinculum_, or the sympathy which binds all earthly creatures together--men, animals, plants, stones, vapours and exhalations, &c., but above all, this cementing sympathy is strongest in pure virgins, as you, much-praised Diliana----" Hereupon she spake surprised: "How can all this be? Is it not folly to suppose that the blessed angels could be compelled by influences from plants and stones?" "It is no folly, dear maiden, but a great and profound truth, which I will demonstrate to you briefly. Everything throughout the universe is effected by two opposing forces, _attraction_ or sympathy, _repulsion_ or antipathy. All things in heaven as well as upon earth act on each other by means of these two forces." "And as all within, above, beneath, in the heaven and on the earth, are types insensibly repeated of one grand archetype, so we find that the sun himself is a magnet, and by his different poles repels or attracts the planets, and amongst them our earth; in winter he repels her, and she moves darkly and mournfully along; in spring he begins to draw her towards him, and she comes joyfully, amidst songs of the holy angels, out of night and darkness, like a bride into the arms of her beloved. And though no ear upon earth can mark this song, yet the sympathies of each creature are attracted and excited thereby, and man, beast, bird, fish, tree, flower, grass, stones, all exhale forth their subtlest, most spiritual, sweetest life to blend with the holy singers. "O maiden, maiden, this is no folly! Truly might we say that each thing feels, for each thing loves and hates--the animate as the inanimate, the earthly as the heavenly, the visible as the invisible. For what is love but attraction or sympathy towards some object, whereby we desire to blend with it? And what is hate but repulsion or antipathy, whereby we are forced to fly or recoil from it? "We, silly men, tear and tatter to pieces the rude coarse _materia_ of things, and think we know the nature of an object, because, like a child with a mirror, we break it to find the image. But the life of the thing--the inner, hidden mystic life of _sympathies_--of this we know nothing, and yet we call ourselves wise! "But what is the signification of this widespread law of love and hate which rules the universe as far as we know? Nothing else than the dark signature of _faith_ impressed upon every creature. For what the thing loves, that is its God; and what the thing hates, that is its devil. So when the upright and perfect soul ascends to God, the source of all attraction, God descends to it in sympathy, and blends with it, as Christ says, 'Whoso loves Me, and keeps My word, My Father will love him, and we will come and take up our abode with him.' But if the perverted soul descends to the source of all repulsion, which is the devil, God will turn away from him, and he will hate God and love the devil, as our blessed Saviour says (Matt. vi.), 'No man can serve two masters, he will _hate_ one and _love_ the other; ye cannot serve God and the devil.' Such will be the law of the universe until the desire of all creatures is fulfilled, until the living Word again descends from heaven, and says, 'Let there be light!' and the new light will fall upon the soul. Then will the old serpent be cast out of the new heaven and the new earth. Hate and repulsion will exist no longer, but as Esaias saith, 'The wolf and the lamb, the leopard and the kid, will lie down together, and the child may play fearlessly upon the den of the adder.' Hallelujah! Then will creation be free! then will it pass from the bondage of corruption into the lordly freedom of the children of God (Rom. viii.), and Sun, Moon, stars, Earth, angels, men, Beasts, plants, stones, The living as the dead, The great as the small, The visible as the invisible, Will find at last The source of all attraction Which they have ever ardently desired-- Round which they will ever circle Day on day, night on night, Century on century, millennium on millennium, Lost in the infinite and eternal abyss Of all love-- GOD!" [Footnote: Almost with the last words of this sketch, the second part of _Kosmos_, by Alexander von Humboldt, came to my hand. Evidently the great author (who so well deserves immortality for his contributions to science) views the world also as a whole; and wherever in ancient or modern times, even a glimpse of this doctrine can be found, he quotes it and brings it to light. But yet, in a most incomprehensible manner, he has passed over those very systems in which, above all others, this idea finds ample room; namely, the new platonism of the ancients (the Theurgic Philosophy), and the later Cabalistic, Alchymical, Mystic Philosophy (White Magic), from which system the deductions of Magister Joel are borrowed; but above all, we must name _Plotinus_, as the father of the new Platonists, to whom nature is throughout but one vast unity, one divine totality, one power united with one life. In later times, we find that Albertus Magnus, Cornelius Agrippa, and Theophrastus Paracelsus held the same view. The latter uses the above word "attraction" in the sense of sympathy. And the systems of these philosophers, which are in many places full of profound truths, are based upon this idea.] CHAPTER XVI. _Jobst Bork takes away his daughter by force from the Duke and Dr. Joel; also is strengthened in his unbelief by Dr. Cramer--Item, how my gracious Prince arrives at Marienfliess, and there vehemently menaces Sidonia._ When Dr. Joel had ended his discourse, the fair young virgin's eyes overflowed with tears; and clasping her hands, she sprang up, and seizing my magister by the hand, exclaimed, "O sir, let us see the blessed angels! Let me talk with them." But her father, who was dry and brief in speech, tore her away, saying sourly, "Have done, child; you must not dare to do it!" Then they all prayed him to consent--the Duke, and the magister, and Diliana herself; and the magister said, that in a few days the sun would be in Libra, which would be the fitting and best time; if they delayed, then a whole year must pass over without obtaining any help, for he had already demonstrated that each spirit had its particular time of influence. And so my magister went on. But all was in vain. So Diliana stroked her father's beard with her little hands and said, "Think, dear papa, on grandmamma--her poor ghost; and that I can avenge her if I keep my virgin honour pure in thought, word, and deed! Is it not strange that my gracious Prince should just now come and demand the proof of my purity? Let me pass the trial, and then I can avenge the poor ghost, and calm the fears of his Highness all at once; for assuredly he has cause to fear Sidonia." So the Duke and Magister Joel inquired eagerly what she meant by the ghost; and when they heard, they rejoiced, and said the finger of God was in it. "Would the knight still strive against God?" "No," he answered, "but against the devil; for Luther says, 'Such ghost-work must be of the devil, since the departed soul must either be in heaven or in hell; if in heaven, it would have rest,' therefore he feared the ghost of his poor mother had nothing good about it, and he would take care and keep his child from the claws of the devil." Thus the argument and strife went on, till Jobst at last cried out sharply, "Diliana, dost thou esteem the fifth commandment? If so, come with me." Whereupon the pious virgin threw herself upon his neck, exclaiming, "Father, I come!" But my magister took her by the hand, to draw her from her father, whereat Jobst seized the hunting-knife that he had stuck in his jack-boots, and brandishing it, cried out, "Hands off, fellow, or I'll paint a red sign upon thee! My Lord Duke, in the name of the three devils, seek out another virgin; but my virgin, your Highness shall never have." Then seizing his little daughter by the waist, he rushed out of the room with her, growling like a bear with his cub, and down the stairs, and through the streets, never stopping or staying till he reached the inn, nor even once looking behind him or heeding his Grace, who screamed out after him, "Good Jobst, only one word; only one word, dear Jobst!" And when my Jobst reached the inn, he roared for the coachman, bid him follow him with all speed to the road, paid down his reckoning to mine host, and was off, and already out of the town, just as the Duke and Dr. Joel reached the inn, to try and get him back again. So they return raging and swearing, while Jobst crouches down behind a thorn-bush with his little daughter, till the coach comes up. And they have scarcely mounted it, when Dr. Cramer, of Old Stettin, drives up; for he was on his way to induct a rector (I know not whom) into his parish, as the ecclesiastical superintendent lay sick in his bed. This meeting rejoiced the knight's heart mightily; and after he had peered out of the coach windows, to see if the Duke or the doctor were on his track, and making sure that he was not pursued, he prayed Dr. Cramer to bide a while, and discourse him on a matter that lay heavy on his conscience. The doctor having consented, they all alighted, and seated themselves in a hollow, where the coachman could not overhear their discourse. Then Jobst related all that had happened, and asked had he acted rightly? "In all things you have done well, brave knight," answered my excellent godfather, "for though, doubtless, spirits can and do appear, yet is there always great danger to body and soul in practising these conjurations; and no one can say with security whether such apparition be angel or devil; because St. Paul says (2 Cor. xi. 14), that 'Satan often changes himself into an angel of light;' and respecting the ghost of your mother, in my opinion, it was a devil sent to tempt your dear little daughter; for it is written (Wisdom xxxi.), 'The just are in the hand of God, and no evil troubles them.'" He is going on with his quotations, when Diliana calls out, "Godfather, here is a coach coming as fast as it can drive; and surely two men are therein!" "Adieu! adieu!" cried the knight, springing up, and dragging his daughter into the coach as quick as he could. Then he bid the coachman drive for life and death; and when they reached the wood, to take the first shortest cut to the left. Meanwhile, the Duke and Dr. Joel come up with my worthy godfather, stop him, and ask what the knight, Jobst Bork, was saying to him? for they had seen them both together, sitting in the hollow, along with Diliana. On this, the dry sheep's cough got into my worthy godfather's throat from pure fright, for a lie had never passed his lips in all his life; therefore he told the whole story truly and honestly. Meanwhile, the other coach drove on rapidly through the wood; and the coachman did as he was desired, and took the first path to the left, where they soon came on a fine thick hazel grove. Here Jobst stopped to listen, and truly they could hear the other coach distinctly crushing the fallen leaves, and the voice of the Duke screaming, "Jobst, dost thou hear?--Jobst, may the devil take thee, wilt thou stop?" "Ay, my Lord Duke," thought Jobst to himself, "I will stop as you wish, but I trust the devil will neither take me nor my daughter." Then he lifted the fair Diliana himself out of the coach, and laid her on the green grass, under the thick nut trees, saying, "Where shall we fly to, my daughter? What thinkest thou?" _Illa_.--"Why, to thy good castle of Saatzig, my father." _Ille_.--"Marry, I'll take good care I won't--to fly from one danger to another; for will he not hunt us there--ay, till his spurs are red, and shouting all the way after me till his lungs burst like an old wind-bag." _Illa_.--"Whither, then, my father?" _Ille_.--"To Stramehl, methinks, to my cousin Bastien, where we shall remain until the time is passed in which he can question the spirits; for, if I remember rightly, the sun will enter Libra in a few days." _Illa_.--"But, dear father, is it not cruel thus to torment the good Prince? Oh! it must be so beautiful to talk to an angel!" _Ille_.--"Do not anger me, my heart's daughter, do not anger me. Better be George Putkammer's good loving wife; turn thy thoughts that way, my daughter, and in a year there will be something better worth looking at in the cradle than a spirit." _Illa_ blushes and plucks the nuts over her head. _Ille_.--"What sayest thou? Art thou for ever to put off these marriage thoughts?" _Illa_.--"Ah! my heart's dear father, what would my poor grandmother say in eternity? It is impossible that, without God's will, the Duke and the poor ghost should have come upon the same thoughts about me." _Ille_.--"Anger me not, child; thou art a silly, superstitious thing; without God's will, it may well be, but not without the devil's will. Thou hast heard what Luther says of ghosts, and we must believe him. Eh?" _Illa_.--"But my Lord Duke and Dr. Joel say quite differently. Ah, father, let me see the blessed angels! Dr. Joel surely has seen them often, and yet no danger befell him." _Ille_.--"Anger me not, daughter, I say, for the third time. It is written, 'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God;' and is not this tempting Him--setting heaven and hell in an uproar all about a wicked old hag of a witch? Wherefore is the Duke such a goose? But I will give him no child of mine to run a race with to hell. Now rise, child, and follow me to the coach!" _Illa_.--"But you must make me one promise" (weeping). _Ille_.--"What then?" _Illa_.--"Speak no more of marriage to me till I say, 'Father, now let the marriage be.'" _Ille_.--"With the young knight, George?" _Illa_.-"I have no objection to offer to him; but the young man is not to come before my eyes until then." _Ille_.--"Ah, thou art as obstinate as the Rügen geese! Well, have it thy own way, child. And now to Stramehl!" Still the Duke was hunting after them, through thick and thin, and roaring for the knight at the top of his voice, till the wood re-echoed; and though some squires, who came up through the forest, declared that no carriage had passed their way, yet he continued his chase, feeling certain that no matter what bypath the knave had taken, yet he would assuredly come up with him at Saatzig. So the next day he reached the castle, for it lay but ten miles from Camyn, but no knight was there. The Duke waited for two days, still no sign of him. So he amused the time by fishing, and making inquiries amongst all the neighbouring people about Sidonia, and so strange were the tales repeated by the simple, superstitious folk, that his Highness resolved to make a detour home by Marienfliess, just to get a passing glimpse of this devil's residence. Here he met a shepherd, who told many strange things, and swore that he had seen her many times flying out of the chimney on her broomstick; and, as the convent lay right before them, his Grace asked which was Sidonia's chimney, and the carl pointed out the chimney with his hand--it was the fourth from the church there, where the smoke was rising. Whereupon my Lord Duke shuddered, and went his way as quick as he could up the Vossberg. He knew not that upon that very day his brother, Duke Philip, had arrived at Marienfliess from Old Stettin, on his way to the diet at New Stettin. The herald had been despatched by his Highness, some days before, to inform Sheriff Eggert Sparling of his approach, and that his Highness and suite would arrive about noon. He was also to say the same to the nuns, particularly to Sidonia Bork. So at mid-day my sheriff set off to the cloister, with the steward and the secretaries, and waited there in the nuns' courtyard for the arrival of the Duke, and a boy was placed in the mill to wave his cap the moment his Highness came in sight. Yet my Eggert was suffering terrible anguish all the time in his mind, for he thought that the Duke might bid him seize the devil's witch. Soon the cry rose that the Duke was coming--his six coaches had just come in sight. Then the convent gate opened, and my hag appeared at the head of the entire sisterhood, all in their black robes and white veils; she the same, except that she wore the abbess veil whereon two golden keys were embroidered. _Item_, the white cats'-skin cape, which I have noticed before, was displayed upon her shoulders. Thus she came forth from the convent gate with all the sisters, two and two, and she threw up her eyes, and raised the hymn of St. Ambrose, just as the Duke and his six coaches drove into the courtyard, and the whole convent joining, they advanced thus singing to meet his Highness. Now, his Highness was a meek man and seldom angry, but his brow grew black with wrath, when Sidonia, stepping up to the coach, bowed low, and in her cats' tippet--herself a cat in cunning and deceit--threw up her eyes hypocritically to heaven. "How now," cried his Grace; "who the devil hath suffered you, Sidonia, to play the abbess over these virgins?" To which my hag replied-- "Gracious Prince, ask these virgins here if they have not selected me as their abbess of their own free will, and they are now come to entreat your Highness to confirm the choice of their hearts." "Marry," quoth the Duke, "I have heard enough of your doings from the neighbouring nobles and others. I know well how you made the poor abbess Magdalena bite the dust; _item_, how you forced these poor virgins to elect you abbess through mortal and deadly fear. Speak, dear sisters, fear nothing--I, your Prince, command you: have ye not elected this piece of sin and vanity to be your abbess simply through fear of your lives?" But the virgins looked down upon the ground, were silent and trembled, while my sheriff plunged his hand into his wide boots for the kerchief to wipe his face, for he saw well how it would end, and the sweat of anguish was dripping from his brow. A second time his Grace asked--"Was it from fear?" When at last one answered, named Agnes Kleist, not the stout Dinnies' sister, but another-- "In truth, gracious Prince, it was from pure bodily fear alone that we elected Sidonia as our abbess." Her courage pleased the Duke so much that he inquired her name, and hearing it, said-- "Ay, I thought you must be a Kleist; and now, for your truth and courage, I make you abbess of Marienfliess; _item_, Dorothea Stettin sub-prioress. And mark me, Sidonia Bork--it is for the last time--if you attempt to dispute my will, or make the least disturbance in the convent in consequence of my decision, you shall be sent over the frontier. I have tried kindness long enough by you--now for justice!" "Sparling, I command you by your duty to me as your Prince, if this evil and notorious hag should make the least disturbance or strife in the convent, seize her that instant, either yourself or by means of your bailiffs, and chase her over the frontiers. _Item_, you are not to permit her to leave the convent, to alarm or intimidate the neighbouring nobles, as she hath hitherto done. Therefore I command the new abbess to replace the heavy padlock on the gate from this day forth. Do you hear this, Sidonia? These poor maidens shall have peace at last. Too long they have been your sport and mockery, but it shall end." So the new abbess answered--"Your Highness shall be obeyed!" But my sheriff could not utter a word from horror, and seemed stifling with a thick, husky cough in his throat. But when Sidonia crept up close to him, and menaced him privately with her dry, clenched hand, he forgot himself entirely, and made a spring that brought him clean over the churchyard wall, while his sword clattered after him, and his plumed beaver dropt from his head to the ground. All the lacqueys laughed loud at the sight, even his Grace laughed. But my sheriff makes the best of it, and calls out-- "Ah, see, my Lord Duke, how the little boys have stolen the flowers that I myself planted on the grave of the blessed abbess. I'll make them pay for it, the thieving brats!" Hereat his Grace asked why the abbess was not buried within the church, but in the graveyard. And they answered, she had so commanded. Whereupon he said mildly-- "The good mother is worthy of a prayer; I shall go and say a paternoster upon her grave, and see if the youngsters have left me a flower to carry away for memory." So he alighted, made Eggert show him the grave, removed his hat, and prayed, while all his suite in the six coaches uncovered their heads likewise. Lastly, he made the sign of the cross, and bent over the grave to pluck a flower. But just then a warm heavy wind blew across the graves, and all the flowers drooped, faded, and turned yellow as it passed. Yea, even a yellow stripe seemed to mark its passage straight across all the graves over the court, up to the spot where the thrice-accursed witch stood upon the convent wall, and people afterwards remarked that all plants, grass, flowers, and shrubs within that same stripe turned pale and faded, only some poison plants, as hemlock, nightshade, and the like, stood up green and stiff along that livid line. When the Duke observed this, he shook his head, but made no remark, stepped hastily, however, into his carriage, after again earnestly admonishing Sidonia; _item_, the sheriff to remember his commands. He ordered the procession to start, and proceeded on his way to the Diet. It may be easily believed that no one ventured to put the commands of his Grace into execution; therefore, Sidonia remained abbess as heretofore. Agnes Kleist, indeed, that same day, had the great padlock put upon the gate; but my hag no sooner sees it than she calls for the convent servant, saying she must go forth to drive, then takes her hatchet, and with it hews away at the padlock, until it falls to the ground. Whereupon, laughing scornfully, she went her way out into the road; and the new abbess could not remonstrate, for on Sidonia's return home (I forgot to say that, latterly, she had gone much about amongst the neighbouring nobles, even as his Highness observed, frightening them to death with her visits) she shut herself up again; and Anna Apenborg soon brings the news from Wolde, "The lady is praying;" and Anna, having privately slid under the window, found that it was even so. So the whole convent shuddered; but no one dared to say a word, though each sister judged for herself what the praying betokened, without venturing to speak her surmise. But this time she did not pray for three days and three nights, only once in the week, when her bath-day came; by which, people suspected that his Highness was destined to a slower death than the other victims of her demoniac malice. CHAPTER XVII. _Of the fearful death of his Highness, Duke Philip II. of Pomerania, and of his melancholy but sumptuous burial._ After the before-mentioned festival of the jubilee, it happened that one day Anna Apenborg went to the brew-house, which lay inside the convent walls (it was one of Sidonia's praying days), and there she saw a strange apparition of a three-legged hare. She runs and calls the other sisters; whereupon they all scamper out of their cells, and down the steps, to see the miracle, and behold, there sits the three-legged hare; but when Agnes Kleist took off her slipper, and threw it at the devil's sprite, my hare is off, and never a trace of him could be found again in the whole brew-house or in the whole convent court. Hereat the nuns shuddered, and each virgin has her opinion on the matter, but speaks it not; for just then, too, comes Sidonia forth, with old Wolde and the cat, and the three begin their devil's dance, while the cat squalls and wails, and the old witch-hag screams her usual hell psalm:-- "Also kleien und also kratzen, Meine Hunde und meine Katzen." Next day, however, the poor virgins heard, to their deep sorrow, what the three-legged hare betokened even as they had suspected; for the cry came to the convent that his Grace, good Duke Philip, was dead, and the tidings ran like a signal-fire through the people, that this kind, wise, just Prince had been bewitched to death. (Ah! where in Pomerania land--yea, in all German fatherland--was such a wise, pious, and learned Prince to be found? No other fault had he but one, and that was not having, long before, burned this devil's witch, this accursed sorceress, with fire and faggot.) And now I must tell how his Grace had scarcely left Marienfliess and reached Saatzig (they were but a mile from each other) when he felt suddenly weak. He wondered much to find that his dear lord brother, Duke Francis, had only left the castle two hours before. _Item_, that Jobst Bork had not arrived there, and no man knew whither the knight had flown. Here the Duke grew so much worse, that his ministers earnestly entreated him to postpone the diet at New Stettin, and return home; for how could it please the knights and burgesses to see their beloved Prince in this sad extremity of suffering? Hereupon his Highness replied with the beautiful Latin words, "_Officio mihi officio_." (And after his death, these words were stamped on the burial-medals. _Item_, a rose, half-eaten by a worm, with the inscription, "_Ut rosa rodimur omnes;_" whereby many think allusion is made to the livid breath that passed over the flowers at Marienfliess, but I leave these things undecided.) _Summa_.--His Highness proceeded to New Stettin, and decided all the boundary disputes amongst the nobles, &c., returned then to his court at Old Stettin, to hold the evangelical jubilee; but, by that time, all the doctors from far and near could do naught to help him; and though he lingered some months, yet, from the first, he knew that death was on him; for nothing could appease the tortures he suffered in his breast, even as all the others whom Sidonia had murdered, and finally, on the 3rd day of February 1618, at ten of the clock, he expired--his age being forty-four years, six months, and six days. And the corpse presented the same signature of Satan, though his Grace's sickness had differed in some particulars from that of Sidonia's other victims. To this appearance of the princely corpse I myself can testify, for I beheld it, along with many others, when it lay in state in the great hall. On the 19th of March following, the princely ceremony of interment took place. Let me see if my tears will permit me to describe it:-- After the deputies from the three honourable estates had assembled--the Stettin, the Wolgastian, and the ecclesiastical--in the castle church, with the Princes of the blood, the nobles, knights, and magnates of the land, three cannons were fired; and at nine of the clock in the evening, the princely corpse was carried first into the count's chamber, then to the knights' chamber, from thence to the grand state-hall, by torchlight, by twenty-four nobles, and from that to the castle square, which was entirely covered with black cloth. Here it was laid down, and sixty students from the university of Grypswald, and forty boys from the town-school, sung the burial psalms from their books; while, at intervals, the priests chanted the appointed portions of the liturgy; after which all the bells of the town began to toll, and the swan song was raised, "Now in joy I pass from earth." Whereupon the nobles lifted up the bier again, and the procession moved forwards. And could my gracious Prince have looked out through the little window above his head, he would have seen not only the blessed cross, but also his dear town, from street to tower, covered with weeping human faces: for the procession passed on through the main street, across the coal market, through castle street, into the crane court--all which streets were lined with the princely soldatesca, who also, each man, carried a torch in his hand, besides the group of regular torch-bearers in the procession--and windows, roofs, towers, presented one living mass of human heads all along the way. And the order was thus:-- 1. The song-master, _cum choro-item_, the rector, pædagogis, with his collegis. 2. The honourable ministerium from all the three states. 3. The Duke's trumpeters and drummers, with instruments reversed, and drums covered with crape. 4. The rector magnificus, and the four deacons of the university of Grypswald, among whom came Dr. Joel. 5. The land-marshal, with his black marshal's staff, alone; then the pages, three and three, in mourning cloaks, and faces covered with black taffety up to their noses. 6. The court-marshal, and the marshals of the three states--_item_, the ambassadors, and other high officials of foreign princes, &c. 7. Twelve knights, in full armour, upon twelve horses; each knight bearing his standard, and each horse covered entirely with black cloth, and having the arms of his rider embroidered on the forehead-piece, and on the two sides was led by a noble on foot. The supreme court-marshal followed these, his drawn sword covered with crape, in his hand, the point to the ground. Next the chancellor, with the seals covered with crape, and laid upon a black velvet cushion. The princely corpse, borne by twenty-four nobles, on a bier covered with black velvet, and beneath a bluish-velvet canopy embroidered on all sides with the arms of his Grace's illustrious ancestors, with all their helmets, shields, devices, and quarterings, gorgeously represented in gold and silver. _Item_, on each side, twelve nobles, with lighted wax torches, from which streamers of black crape floated, and twelve halberdiers, with halberds reversed. The last poor faded trefoil of our dear fatherland, namely, the serene and illustrious Princes, Dukes, and Lords--Francis, Ulrich, and Bogislaff, the princely brothers of Pomerania--all in long velvet mantles, and their faces covered with black crape up to the eyes. [Footnote: Note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.-The three accompanied him to the grave; but who will walk mourner beside my bier? Ah! that long ere this I had lain calmly in my coffin, and looked up from the little window to my Lord, and rested in the God of my salvation! Amen.] His princely Highness, Duke Philip Julius of Wolgast--the last of his name--and, like his cousins, wearing crape over his face to the eyes. The honourable chapter of Camyn. The councillors, _medici_, and other officers. The chamberlain, knights, and pages of the princely widow's household. The princely widow herself, with all her ladies, in long black silk mantles, their faces covered with black taffety up to the eyes, and accompanied by their Graces the Elector of Brandenburg and the Duke of Mechlenburg. The princely widow, Hedwig, the bereaved spouse of Ernest Ludovic of blessed memory--who was doomed to follow her whole illustrious race to the grave--conducted by Duke William of Courland, and Henry of Mangerson, ambassador from Brunswick. The Countess von Eberstein, and Baroness von Putbus, with the ladies in waiting to her princely Highness. The noble ladies and maids of honour, amongst whom came Diliana Bork. Burgomasters, sheriffs, and council of the good town of Old Stettin. Trumpeters and drummers, as before, and another songmaster _cum choro_, as at the beginning; and so closed the procession. And how can I ever forget the lamentations that broke forth from all the people, as the princely bier approached--men, women, children, all sobbed and wept, as if indeed their own father lay there, and turned their torches down to view the blessed body better, from the windows and the towers (for mostly all the people carried torches). Then arose such a lamentation and cry as if no comfort more was left for them upon earth, only in heaven must they look for it; and as I stood in the coal-market, leaning my shoulder against a post, and heard this great cry of a whole people, and saw the flashing torches all bent upon this one point in the dark midnight, behold the bright gold crucifix on the coffin glittered as if in the clear light of the sun; and the blaze of the torches was reflected from the black concave of heaven, so that a glory seemed to rest around and above the bier, and all shone and glittered in that radiant circle, so that it was a pleasure and a wonder to gaze upon. "Thus through sin and sorrow loometh, Light of light from God that cometh, Shining o'er life's saddest night. For His glory ever stayeth, On the soul that weeps and prayeth; May the words that Jesu sayeth Guide us onward towards that light! Amen!" The procession now returned again to the castle square, and from thence to the chapel. Now when the coffin was laid down before the altar, and all the twelve knights with their standard gathered round it, my esteemed godfather, Dr. Cramer, advanced up the nave to the altar, chanting the Kyrie Eleison, and all the twelve knights lowered their standards upon the coffin, and beat their breasts, crying out--"Kyrie Eleison!" which cry was caught up by the whole congregation, and they likewise--nobles, priests, people, prince, peasant, men, women, children--all smote their breasts and cried out, "Kyrie Eleison!" so that my blessed godfather, his voice failed through weeping, and three times in vain he tried to speak. After the sermon, the coffin was lifted up and lowered into the vault, and the signet-ring of his Highness broken by the land-marshal, and flung upon the coffin. But the twelve standards were set down by the altar, and the marshal presented his staff to Bishop Francis, now the serene and illustrious reigning Duke of Pomerania; and the supreme court-marshal delivered up the sword, and the chancellor the seals to his Serene Highness, and so this mournful ceremony terminated. CHAPTER XVIII. _How Joist Bork and his little daughter are forced at last into the "Opus Magicum"--Item, how his Highness, Duke Francis, appoints Christian Ludecke, his attorney-general, to be witch-commissioner of Pomerania._ Now my Jobst, guessing well what was in store for him if he remained at the ducal court, ordered his horses to be ready harnessed by four of the clock, on the morning after the funeral, that he might get clear off with his daughter before my lord Duke knew anything of the matter. But his Highness knew better than that, for just as the knight and his daughter were stepping into the coach, four of the Duke's equerries sprang forth and seized the horses' heads, while four pages rushed down the castle steps, and informed the knight that he must accompany them with his daughter back to the castle, and up to the private apartment of his Grace, for that the Duke had a word to say to him before his departure. What could my Jobst do? He must take his Diliana out of the coach again, and follow the pages through the castle up to the Duke's quarters, which were filled with all beautiful things, statues and paintings, &c., from Italy; and his private room was decorated with the finest pieces of sculpture. So here they find his Grace and Dr. Joel seated at a table, with the wine-can before them, for they had sat up all night discoursing. And when my Jobst enters with his sour face, holding his daughter by the hand, the Duke calls out-- "Marry, brave vassal, why so sour? _I_ might well look sour, since you and your little daughter lately chose to play blind-man's-buff with your lawful Prince, making a mock of him. But I pardon you, and hope you have come to your senses since. Come, sit down; drink my health in the wine cup. I trow this wine will please your palate." But Jobst excused himself: "He never drank so early." Whereupon the Duke continued-- "Well, as you please; but, good Jobst, you must be harder than a stone, if you refuse now to assist me in binding this accursed witch of Marienfliess, when you see this last evil which she has done, and how all the weeping land mourns for its Prince. Will you and your little daughter, this virgin, not deliver me and my ancient race from so great and terrible a foe? What say ye, brave Jobst? Come, sit down beside your afflicted Prince, you and your little daughter, and tell me what help and comfort ye mean to bring me in my sore grief and sorrow. Speak, Jobst; ah! say was ever Prince like unto this Prince--and yet childless, childless, as we are all! Have pity on my noble ancient race, or, even as he lamented on his death-bed, 'Pomerania will pass in a little while into stranger hands!'" Now, my Jobst, who had sat down with his daughter on a couch near the table, got the dry sheep's cough in his throat again, and, in his embarrassment, snuffed out the candle; but, making a great effort, at last said-- "His Grace must be resigned: who could withstand the will of God? Yet he must say, in all honesty, that he had talked to many persons about the matter, and some said it was folly and nonsense, and there could be no reason in it. Others, amongst whom was Dr. Cramer, said, if not folly, yet it was a dangerous business to body and soul, and ought not to be attempted." But my Jobst grows disturbed, and at last says, "Well, then, I must speak out the truth. My child is not the pure virgin whom ye seek. I mean in her thoughts, for she has already been betrothed to a bridegroom." At this the Duke clapped his hand to his forehead and sighed-"Then my last hope has perished!" _Item_, the magister was quite thunderstruck. But Diliana, who blushed to her finger-ends while her father spoke, started from the couch, seized the hand of my gracious Lord, and exclaimed-- "Be calm, my Lord Duke, my father hath said this but to free me, as he thinks, from this dungeon business. But even against him I must defend my honour, for in truth my soul has been ever pure from all vain or sinful lusts, even as it is written (Tobias iii.). And though my father has proposed a bridegroom to me, yet up to this day I have constantly rejected him, partly for the sake of my poor grandmother, whose ghost admonished me, and partly that I might serve your gracious Highness as a pure and honourable virgin." This hearing so rejoiced the Duke, that he kissed her hand; but the fair young virgin, when she saw her father rise up and walk hither and thither in great agitation, began to weep, and ran to throw herself on his neck, sobbing forth, "Comfort yourself, dear father, it could not be otherwise, for when you uttered such hard words of your daughter, what could I do but defend my honour, even against my own earthly father? Ah, dear father! it was the cruellest word your little daughter ever heard from you in her life--but one little kiss, and all will be right again!" The poor knight now fairly sobs like a child, and at last stammers out, "Well then, you must let me be present; if the devil takes my child, let him take me too along with him. I would rather be with my little daughter in hell, than without her in heaven." "Good knight," answered Joel, "that may not be; only three can be present, the Duke, your daughter, and myself. I handle the intellectual vinculum or the conjuration. Diliana takes the elementary vinculum, as dove's blood, the blood of the field-mouse, virgin wax, and the censer, in her pure hands, and the Duke holds the astral vinculum, and questions the spirit." Still my Jobst answers, "It may not be, unless I am present." And the strife continued in this wise for a good space, until it was at last agreed upon that the knight should keep watch before the door with his drawn sword during the conjuration, and that in autumn, when the sun entered Libra, they would begin the great work. Jobst now rose to take his leave, but his little daughter, Diliana, stood awhile silent, then blushed, looked upon the ground, and spoke at last-- "My Lord Duke, will your Grace make my father promise, upon his knightly word, never to bring the young noble, George Putkammer, whom he has destined for my husband, into my presence from this day forth until after I have questioned the spirit. For I have a liking for the young knight, and I am but a poor, weak thing, like our mother Eve and all other women: who knows what thoughts might rise in my heart, if I beheld his face or listened to his entreaties? and then the whole good work would come to nought, or perchance I might repent it my life long. I would therefore now rather go to Stramehl, where I can pray and become strong in spirit, so that perchance I shall find favour in the sight of the angel of God, as Hagar the handmaid of Abraham in the desert." Then the beautiful child folded her hands, and looked up to heaven with such trust and innocence, that all were moved, and the knight pledged his word to the Duke; after which he pressed his little lamb to his heart, and then both of them left the chamber of his Highness. Now the Duke at last was joyful, for he had hope in the great work, and fell upon his knees with the magister to pray God for mercy upon himself, his race, and the young virgin. _Item_, promised by his honour to seek out and burn all the witches in the land, that so the kingdom of God might be built up, and the kingdom of the prince of this world sink to ruin and utter destruction. And on the following morning, he sent for Christian Ludecke (brother to the priest who had been bewitched to death), appointed him special witch-commissioner of the kingdom, and bade him search throughout the length and breadth of the land, and wherever he found one of these evil and accursed sorceresses, to burn her for the honour and glory of God. [Footnote: An equally notorious witch-finder was one Hopkins of England. See Sir Walter Scott's "Letters upon Demonology and Witchcraft."] "Let him show no mercy towards this hell-brood of Satan, for the devil lately had become so powerful everywhere, but especially in dear Pomerania-land, that, if not prevented, he would soon pervert the whole people, and turn them away from the pure and blessed evangelical doctrine. Still he must have them all tried fairly before the sheriff's court ere he tortured or burned. His brother of blessed memory had too long delayed the burning, therefore he must now be the more diligent; and, by next autumn, he trusted, with the help of God, to be able to burn Sidonia herself." Hereupon, my Ludecke wondered much that his Grace should be so confident about burning Sidonia, but answered bravely, "All should be done as his Highness wished; for since the cruel death of his poor brother, the priest, his motto was--'Torture! burn! kill!' But would to God that his Highness could bind Sidonia's familiar first, for he was a powerful spirit, every one said; and could not this learned magister exorcise him? The rumour went that he meant so to do." But his Grace rebuked such curiosity, and answered coldly, "He could not tell how the magister meant to proceed; but his (Ludecke's) duty lay clear before him, let him do it." Hereupon, my Ludecke looked rather confused, and took his leave. And soon after, the witch-burnings began in such fearful rise through the land, that in many parishes six or seven poor women, young or old, innocent or guilty, it was all the same--yea, even children of ten to twelve years were yearly burned to powder; and by the wonderful providence of God, it happened that the burnings began first in Marienfliess, and truly with one of Sidonia's friends, the old pugnosed hag of Uchtenhagen, whom I have mentioned before, and that she visited Sidonia frequently; and this was the way of it:--One day, Sidonia beat this same Pug-nose most unmercifully with the broomstick, and chased her out into the convent square, still striking at her, which sight, however, the nuns little heeded, for this _spectaculum_ was now so common that they only thanked their stars it was not their turn, and passed on. But Anna Apenborg met her by the well, and as the horrible old Pug-nose was screeching and roaring at the top of her voice, and cursing Sidonia, she asked, "What now?--what ailed her?--what had she and the Lady Sidonia been quarrelling about?" And some others came up, principally the wenches from the kitchen, to hear what all the roaring was for. Whereupon, Pug-nose told her story: "The cursed lady-witch had bid her lately go to the holy sacrament, and when she received the blessed wafer, to take the same out of her mouth privately, and bring it to her at Marienfliess, wherewith to feed her familiar, whom she kept in the form of a toad. At this blasphemy she (Pug-nose) remained silent, for she feared the hag and her anger; but on the Sunday she swallowed the bread, as other Christian people; whereupon Sidonia sends for her, pretending she had spinning to give her, but no sooner had she entered the room, than the terrible she-devil asked for the wafer; so she confessed she had swallowed it. How could she commit such a horrible sacrilege? At this, the accursed witch ran at her with the broomstick, and beat her all the way down into the court." This story soon spread over the convent, and the priest's wife told it to the fish-seller, who came up there that day, bidding him run to her brother-in-law, Christian Ludecke, with the news of the last sorcery going on in the convent. This was a fine hearing to the witch commissioner, who resolved instantly to seize Pug-nose, and begin the burnings in the parish of Marienfliess, to frighten Sidonia, and keep her in check until autumn. So he took the executioner, with all the torture instruments, and a scriba along with him in the carriage, and set off for Uchtenhagen, where the old hag dwelt. CHAPTER XIX. _How Christian Ludecke begins the witch-burnings in Marienfliess, and lets the poor dairy-mother die horribly on the rack._ Now it happened about this time in Marienfliess that the dairy-mother (I have tried to remember her name, but in vain, she was daughter to Trina Bergen I know, as is noticed _libro secundo_) sold a kid to the bailiff, Brose [Footnote: Ambrosius.] Bucher, grandson of that Zabel Bucher who was going to burn old Wolde years before, which kid soon grew sick and died. _Item_, the bailiff's wife had quarrelled with the dairy-mother (ah, if I could remember her name) about the price; the said wife assured her husband the bailiff that the dairy-mother had bewitched the kid to death out of spite, because she would not give her as much as she asked for it. This he easily credited, and talked of it to the country people, and now the old hag must be an evil witch, her mother indeed he knew had been in bad repute likewise, for how but by witchcraft could the poor little kid have died off all of a sudden. So all the malicious women's tongues were set going with their spinning-wheels, and this poor worthy dairy-mother, whose piety, charity, and kindness I have noticed already, was in a few days the common talk of the parish. About this time, Beatus Schact, the convent chaplain, was summoned to baptize a shepherd's dying child, and he had just packed up his book, when he observed through the window a waggon, drawn by four horses, coming down the Stargard street, with the sound of singing from the persons within. Foremost on the waggon sit three official-looking personages, in scarlet mantles, and one of them bears a red banner, with a black cross thereon, in his hand. Behind them are three women bound, and the psalm which they chant is the death-psalm--"Now pray we to the Holy Ghost." As the priest looks upon this strange sight, _bis dato_, never seen in Pomerania-land, the waggon halts close by the church wall, and one of the men with the red mantles sounded a trumpet, so that all the people run to see what was going forward, and the priest runs likewise. _Item_, all the nuns gather thick at the convent gate, and peep over other's shoulders; for people think it must be pickleherring, or some such strolling mummers, come to exhibit to the folk during the evening. Meanwhile, a peasant observes that his own sister, Ussel, wife to a peasant at Pegelow, was one of the three poor wretches who sat there with bound hands. Whereupon he springs to the waggon, and asks with wonder, "Ussel, what brings thee here?" But for answer she only pours forth tears and lamentations. However, commissioner Ludecke (for you may well guess it was he with his witch-waggon) would not let them discourse further; but bid the peasant stand back, unless he wished the executioner to seize him and tear his hide for him; then speaks-- "Know, good people, that our serene and gracious Prince and Lord, the illustrious and eminent Duke Francis George of Stettin, Pomerania, having heard that the devil is loose in our dear fatherland, and carries on his demon work, especially amongst the women folk, tempting them into all horrible sorceries, filthiness, and ungodly deeds, has appointed me, Christian Ludecke (brother of your late pastor), to be witch-commissioner for the whole kingdom, that so I may purge the land by fire, bringing these devil's hags to their just punishment, for the great glory of God, and terror of all godless sorceresses, witches, and others in this or any other place. Ye are also to name me the honourable attorney-general, which also I am." Here the peasant cried out-- "But his sister Ussel, who sat there bound upon the cart, was no witch, and every one knew that. His worship might take pity on her tears and let her free. She had a husband, and four innocent little children likewise; who would take care of them now?" "No, no," shouted Ludecke; "true sign that she is a witch since she howls! Had she a good conscience wherefore should she do it? He came to know whether there was a witch, perchance, also in Marienfliess?" Here the bailiff's wife nudged her husband in the side with her elbow, and whispers--"The dairy-mother," but the carl would not utter a word. So she screamed out herself-- "Ay, there is the dairy-mother of the parish, a horrible old witch, as all the town knows." And here I have just bethought me of the name of the dairy-mother. It was Benigna Ficht; she was widow of old Ficht, the peasant. At this several voices cried out, "No, no;" but she screamed out-- "Yea, yea! it was true; and her mother before her had been an evil witch, and had let witches sit in her cellar, so that she must be a witch herself." [Footnote: This idea runs through all the witch trials. Woe to the woman whose mother had been accused of witchcraft, she seldom got off with her life.] This pleased the bloodthirsty attorney-general, and he asked if the bailiff were present. And when my Brose stepped forward with a profound bow, Ludecke went on-- "Was this the case about the dairy-mother? Was she, in truth, an evil witch?" Whereupon his malicious wife nudged him again with her elbows in the side, till he answered--"Ay, the people say so." Ludecke continued--"Were there more witches in the place beside the dairy-mother?" The fellow was silent and seemed disturbed, until being menaced by the commissioner with all temporal and eternal punishment if he spoke not the truth, my Brose stepped up upon the wheel, and whispered in his ear, while he cast a frightened glance at the convent gate-- "Ay, there is another, one of the convent sisters called Sidonia Bork, she is the very devil itself." But Ludecke seemed as though he could not believe him-- "It was impossible; he had always heard that this lady was a model of all goodness, piety, and wisdom, who had healed the sheriff himself of some great sickness;" but he squinted all the time over at the convent gate, where the black robes were crowding, and then whispered the bailiff--"Is Sidonia amongst them, think you?" My carl squinted likewise at the gate, then whispered back again in his ear--"No, Sidonia is not there, as far as I can see." Meanwhile the _pastor loci_, a simple, timid little man, as I have said, got up all his courage, and feeling it to be his duty to defend his parishioner, the poor dairy-mother, advanced to the waggon, saying-- "Would his worship the lord attorney-general permit him a few words? He was the priest of the parish, had married the widow of his late brother, as no doubt his worship had heard by letters from his dear spouse. His duty compelled him to take the part of this poor dairy-woman, whose character evil tongues had blackened to his worship, for she was the most pious person in all the parish, and every evening brought her spinning along with other pious women to his house, to hear the blessed Word of God, and be examined in the catechism--any one who knew her pious honest life could not believe this of her." "So much the more likely she is a witch," cried Ludecke; "they are all hypocrites. Look at that pious and honest trio in the cart, how they cast down their eyes and look so innocent, and yet they were three of the vilest witches; for what made them look down, if it were not their evil conscience?" Now it happened that just then old Wolde came limping by, with a new broom which she had bought in the town for Sidonia, no doubt to lay under the table, as she was wont; so Brose whispered-- "Yea, yea, there was one hobbling by with the broom, and she was the worst of all, Sidonia's servant, old Wolde." Whereupon the commissioner thought within himself, how could he terrify Sidonia more than by seizing her maid, and sending her to the rack and the stake. So he bid the executioner lay hold on that lame hag with the broom, and fling her into the cart along with the others. This was soon done; for, though old Wolde made some resistance, and screeched and roared, yet she was thrown down upon the ground, bound, and flung into the nest in spite of all. Anna Apenborg saw all this from the convent gate, and, to make friends with Sidonia, she ran to the refectory with the news of Ludecke's doings. Whereupon Sidonia, who knew the coward knave well, seized her broomstick and ran down the steps, beating the nuns right and left about the ears, who were gathered thick and black around the gate, so that they all flew screaming away, and then presented herself, glowing with fury, and brandishing her broomstick, to the eyes of the terrified Ludecke, whereat all the four hags cried out from the waggon-- "Help us, O Lady Prioress! Help us, O Lady Prioress!" And Sidonia screamed in answer, "I come, I come!" swung her broomstick and called out--"Wait, thou accursed quill-driver, wait!" But my Ludecke no sooner saw her rushing at him, with her thin white hair flying about her face, than he jumped from the cart, and took to his heels so fast that nothing could be seen of him through the dust he raised but the bright nails of his shoes, as he scampered away to the furze bushes. _Item_, followed the scriba, and lastly the executioner, to the great amusement of the common folk, who stood round the waggon, and now laughed and gibed at the authorities. Then the afore-mentioned peasant jumped upon the cart, and cut the cords that bound his sister, Ussel, and the others. Whereat they likewise took to their heels and went hither and thither, to hide themselves in the wood, while old Wolde returned calmly with Sidonia to the convent, and two of the hags got clear off, and were fed by their kinsfolk, I take it, for months in the pits and hollow trees where they had sheltered themselves, for never a trace could Ludecke get of them more, though he searched day and night in every village, and house, and nook, and corner. But Pug-nose, who was half-blind with fright, in place of running away, ran straight up into the very mouth of the executioner, who was crouching with the clerk his master behind a thorn-bush. Eh, how she roared when Master Hansen stretched out his arm and caught hold of her by the coat! Then he bound her again, and so she was carried to the sheriff's house, for Ludecke had set up his quarters with Sheriff Sparling, and that same day he resolved to open the criminal commission _nomine serenissim_a with Pug-nose. _Summa_.--The hag confessed upon the rack to Sidonia being a witch, and named several other women besides. So my Ludecke has to write off for another executioner and seven bailiffs, fearing his own would have more work on their hands than they could do. And every day messengers were despatched to Stargard with bundles of indictments and writs. And in the sheriff's court, day after day, there was nothing but trying witches and condemning them, and torturings, and burnings. And though many saved themselves by flight, and others got off with only a sharp reprimand, yet in four weeks no less than four wretched women were burned close by Sidonia's window, so that she might see them smoking to powder. And Pug-nose was the first whom the bloodthirsty knave ordered to be burned (I say nothing against that, for it is all right and according to law), but the bloodhound went rather beyond the law sometimes, thinking to terrify Sidonia, for it was the custom to build a sort of little chamber at top of the pile within which the wretched victims were bound, so that they could be stifled by the smoke before the flames reached them. But he would allow of no little chamber, and had a stake erected on the summit of the pile, round which an iron chain was fastened, and to the end of this chain the miserable criminal: and truly many hearts were moved with pity when Pug-nose was fastened to the stake, and the pile was lit, seeing how she ran right and left to escape the flames, with the chain clattering after her, in her white death-shift, stitched with black, which Sidonia gave out she made for her out of pure Christian charity--screaming horribly all the while, till finally the fire blazed up over her, and she fell down a blackened heap. Three weeks after three more women were burned upon three separate piles, on the same day, and at the same hour, straight in view of Sidonia's window; and they likewise each one were bound to the chain, and their screams were heard plainly as far as Stargard. And for four miles round the smell of roast human flesh was plainly perceptible, which, as every one knows, has quite a different odour from any other burned flesh. Yet the death of the poor dairy-mother was still more horrible if possible, and though it may well make my tears to flow again, yet I will relate it. But tears here, tears there, what will it help? So to begin:-- My worthy father-in-law, M. Beutzius, formerly court-chaplain, but who had lately been made general-superintendent by Duke Francis, for the reason before mentioned, went about this time to attend the synod, at the little town of Jacobshagen; and on his way home, in the morning about eleven o'clock (for he had slept at Stargard), while passing the court-house at Marienfliess, had his attention attracted by two young peasant girls, who were standing before a window wringing their hands, and screaming as piteously as if the world itself were going to be destroyed. He stopped his coach instantly, listened, and then distinctly heard groans proceeding from the little room; but the sound was so hollow and unnatural that two pigs that were rooting up the earth near him lifted up their snouts. As soon as they heard it, they started off in fright, then stopped and stood listening and trembling in the distance. So my worthy father-in-law called out, while his hair stood on end with terror, "Children, for the love of God, what is the matter?" But the poor girls, for their sobbing and weeping, could utter nothing but "Our mother! our poor mother!" Upon which he sprang from the coach, advanced closer, and asked, "What is it, poor girls? what has happened?" "Oh sir!" answered one at last, "our poor innocent mother has been lying two whole hours on the rack within there, and the savage knaves won't leave their breakfast to come and release her!" So the good man looked shudderingly through the window, and there beheld the unfortunate dairy-mother lying bound half naked upon a plank, so that her white hair swept the ground. And her hands were bound round her neck, and under each arm lay a coal-pan, from which a blue flame ascended as if sulphur were burning therein, so that her arms were burned quite black already. "My God! where is the executioner?" screamed my father-in-law, and when the girl, sobbing, pointed to the tavern, the old man ran off as quick as he was able the whole way to the place, where the executioner and his fellows sat by the beer-jug, laughing and making merry. And when he arrived, the old man's breath was well-nigh gone, and he could scarcely tell of the horrors he had seen and heard; but when he had ended the executioner answered he could not help it. "His worship the attorney-general was at breakfast likewise at the court-house, and had the keys. When he was done he would send for them." The worthy priest then ran back again all the way from the tavern to the court-house, as quick as he could, but stopping his ears the while as he came nearer, not to hear the groans of the poor dairy-mother, and the screams of her daughters, who were running hither and thither round the walls, as if indeed the wretched girls had quite lost their senses. And at last he reached the sheriff's quarter, where another kind of roaring saluted his ears--I mean the shouts and laughter of the drunken noisy crew within. For the ferocious bloodhound, Christian Ludecke, had invited friends over from Old Stettin, and there they all sat, Sheriff Sparling too amongst them, round the table like coupled hounds, for a fine metal wire had been passed through all their ears as they sat drinking, so that none could go away without having his ear torn by the wire. Or if one of the beastly drunken pigs swilled so much, that he fell under the table, and his ear tore in consequence, it was a source of great laughter and merriment to the other pigs. When the old man beheld this, he thought that between grief, anger, and horror, he would have fallen to the ground. And for a long while he stood gazing at the scene, unable to utter a word, whilst they roared to him to take his place, and shoved the wine-can over: "But he must have his ear pierced first like the others; for the good old laws were in force here, and he must drain the cup at a draught till his breath was gone, and his two cheeks remained full--this was the true Pomeranian draught." At this beastly proposition, the pious priest crossed himself, and at last got out the words--"Mercy for the criminal! mercy for the poor dairy-mother!" At this, the attorney-general, Christian Ludecke, clapped his hand upon his forehead, exclaiming, "'Fore God, it is true, I have let that cursed hag lie on the rack these two hours. I forgot all about her. Send to the executioner, and bid him release her. Let her rest for to-day." "And you could forget a fellow-creature thus!" exclaimed the priest, with indignation. "Oh! you are more savage than a heathen, or the very brute beasts there without, who trembled at the groans of the poor martyr; yea, hell itself could not be more merciless!" "What, thou cursed parson!" cried the commissioner, starting from his seat in fury. But just then, as he sprang up, the wire tore through his ear, and the red blood flowed down upon his fine white ruff, whereat the others burst out into a yell of laughter, which increased the villain's fury ten times more. "Now the damned hag should stay on the rack till night. What did people mean coming with begging prayers for the devil's brood? As well pray mercy for the devil himself--the reverend parson was very tender about his friends the witches." At which he laughed so loud that the roof rang, and all the others roared in chorus. But the priest replied gravely, "I shall repeat every word you have uttered to his Highness the Duke, with a statement of how I found ye all employed, unless this instant you give orders to release the dairy-mother." "Never! never!" shouted the bloodhound, and struck the table till the glasses rang. "What is it to thee, damned priest? I am witch-commissioner of Pomerania; and his Highness expressly charged me to show no mercy to these cursed devil's hags, therefore, I am ready to answer to God, the Prince, and my conscience, for what I do." However, my worthy father-in-law had scarcely left the room, sighing deeply at his unsuccessful mission, when the coward despatched his scriba with the keys to release the dairy-mother. But it was too late--the horrible agony had already killed her; and when the hands of the corpse were unbound, both arms fell of themselves to the ground, out of the sockets. [Footnote: Such scenes of satanic cruelty and beastly debauch, mingled together with the proceedings of justice, were very frequent during the witch-trials. How would it rejoice me if, upon contemplating this present age, I could exclaim with my whole heart, "What progression--infinite progression--in manners and humanity!" But, alas! our modern laws, with their womanish feebleness, and sentimental whimperings, sin quite as much against a lofty and noble justice as those of earlier times by their tyrannical and cannibal ferocity. And yet now, as then, _conscience_ is appealed to as the excuse for all. O conscience, conscience! how wilt thou answer for all that is laid upon thee! To-day, for example, it is a triumphal denial of God and thy Saviour Jesus Christ: a crime at which a Ludecke would have shuddered, even as we shudder now at his; and yet no sense of shame or disquietude seems to pass over thee, although by the Word of God thy crime is a thousandfold greater than his. Matt. xii. 31; John viii. 24; Ephes. v. 6.] CHAPTER XX. _What Sidonia said to these doings--Item, what our Lord God said; and, lastly, of the magical experiment performed upon George Patkammer and Diliana, in Old Stettin_. I think my bloodhound gained his end at last respecting Sidonia; for truly a terrible anguish fell upon her--a foretaste of that hell-anguish she would one day suffer, I take it; yet she only betrayed this terror by the disquietude of her bearing, and the uneasiness which she exhibited day and night; _item_, through an increase of her horrible hypocrisy, which grew more flagrant than ever; for now, standing or going, her eyes were turned up to heaven, and three or four times a day she compelled the nuns to attend prayers in the chapel. Yet when the news was brought her, that the coward knave, Christian Ludecke, had extolled her virtues himself to the bailiff, Brose, she concluded that he meant nothing serious with her. However, she continued sending Anna Apenborg diligently to the sheriff's house, to pick up all the gossip she could from the servants and others. And at length Anna brought word that a maid at the court-house said, the scriba said, in confidence, that his Grace of Stettin said, Sidonia should be burned next autumn. When Sidonia heard this, she turned as pale as a corpse, and her breath seemed stifling, but recovering herself soon, attempted to smile, turned up her eyes to heaven, and, sighing, said, "He that walketh innocently walketh surely" (Prov. x. 9), and then rang for the nuns to go and pray in the chapel. Yet that same day, when she heard of the fearful death of the dairy-mother, she turned her hypocritical mouth to another tune, raged, and stormed, and abused the bloodthirsty savage of a commissioner, who had let the most pious person of the whole parish die so horribly on the rack; then bid the whole chapter assemble in her room, to state the matter to his Highness, for if these evil doings went on, not even the most innocent amongst them was safe from a like bitter death. Whereupon Anna Apenborg, who had grown the bravest of all, since she found that Sidonia could not do without her, said, "But, gracious Lady Prioress, you yourself accused the dairy-mother of witchcraft when you came back from Stettin, and found the poor priest in his coffin!" which impertinence, however, my hag so resented, that she hit Anna a blow on the mouth, and exclaimed in great wrath, "Take that for thy impudence, thou daring peasant wench!" But, calming herself in a moment, added, "Ah, good Anna, is it not human to err?--have you never been deceived yourself?" _Summa_.--The nuns must write and sign. Whereupon my Ludecke, out of fear of Sidonia's revenge, withdrew to Saatzig after the death of the dairy-mother, from thence to Dölitz, Pyritz, and so on, still faithful to his motto, "Torture! burn! kill!" for he found as many witches as he pleased in every place; so that the executioner, Curt Worger, who, when he first arrived at Marienfliess, wore nothing but a sorry grey mantle, now appeared decked out like a noble, in a bright scarlet cloak; _item_, a hat with a red feather, a buff jerkin, and jack-boots with gilded spurs; neither would he sit any longer on the cart with the witches, but rode by the side of the commissioner, on a jet black horse, which carried a red flag between its ears; and his drawn sword rested upon his shoulder. Thus they proceeded through the land; and upon entering a town, the executioner always struck up a psalm, in which not only the attorney-general and his secretary frequently joined, but also the wretched witches themselves who sat in the cart. And though the Duke received complaints daily, not only from the priest Beutzius, and the convent, but from every town where the special commission was held, of the horrible cruelties practised and permitted by his Grace's officials; yet the Duke remained firm in his determination to root out witchcraft, by these or any means; for whatever the ferocious bloodhound, Ludecke, prated to his Highness, the Duke believed, and therefore would say nothing against any of his acts. But our Lord God had a great deal to say against them; for observe all the signs and wonders that appeared about this time through different parts of the land, which brought many a one to serious reflection. First, some women, who were cooking meal and pease at Pyritz, found the mess changed into blood; baked bread, likewise, the same. And a like miracle happened at Wriezen also, for the deacon, Caspar Rohten, preached a sermon on the occasion, which has since been printed. _Item_, at Stralsund there was a red rain--yea, the whole sea had the appearance as if it were turned into blood; and some think this was a foreshadowing of the great and real blood-rain at Prague, and of all the evils which afterwards fell upon our whole German fatherland. Next the news was brought to court, that, at the same hour, on the same night, strange and supernatural voices were heard at the following places, in Pomerania:-- 1. W-edderwill, a house, as every one knows, close to Stramehl, and the birthplace of Sidonia. 2. E-ggesin, a town near Uckermand, at the other end of Pomerania. 3. H-ohenmoeker, near Demmin. 4. P-yritz, the town where the witch-burnings had raged the most cruelly. 5. O-derkrug, close to his Grace in Stettin. 6. M-arienfliess, where Sidonia defied man, and blasphemed God, and organised all the evil that fell upon the land. Now when the Duke read this account he was filled with horror, that heaven itself should cry, "Woe;" for when he placed the initial letters of each town together, he observed, to his dismay, that they read, "Weh Pom--" [Footnote: Weh is called Woe, and Pomerania, _Pommern_ in the original.] Yet as the last syllable, _mern_, was wanting, the Duke comforted himself, and thought, "Perhaps it is the other Pomerania, where my cousin Philip Julius rules, over which God has cried 'Woe.'" So he wrote letters; but, alas! received for answer, that in the self-same night the strange voices had been heard in the following places:-- E-ixen, a town near Franzburg. R-appin, in Rügen. N-etzelkow, on the island of Usedom. Thus passing directly across the land. Yet the Duke still had some little comfort remaining, for there was an _m_ wanting--people always wrote Pommern, not Pomern--therefore by this the All-merciful God showed that He meant to preserve one _m_, that is, a _man_, of the noble Pomeranian house, whereby to build it up and make it flourishing again. To this faith he clung in his sore grief; and Doctor Joel further comforted him about the angel, saying that he would assuredly tell him what the sign denoted, and this _m_ in particular, which was kept back from the word Pomerania. But the magister knew right well--as many others, though they would not tell the Duke--that the Lord God had spelled the word correctly; for the name in the Wendisch and Polish tongues is _Pomorswa_, spelt with but one _m_, and means a land lying by the sea, and therefore many of the old people still wrote Pomern for Pommern. Had the Duke, however, as well as his princely brothers, heard of the awful appearances which accompanied the voices in every place, methinks they would have despaired utterly. For the clouds gathered themselves into forms resembling each of the four princely Dukes in succession, as like as if a painter had drawn them upon the sky; thence they were, each lying on his black bier, from east to west, in the clear moonlight of heaven. And his Highness, Duke Francis, was the first, lying on his bier, with his hair combed _à la Nazarene_, as was his custom, and his face turned to the moon, behind which he presently disappeared. Next came Duke Udalricus, and his face was so distinct that it seemed cut out of paper, lying there in his coffin; and he, too, sank behind the moon, and was seen no more. Philip Julius of Wolgast was the third, and the blessed moon shone bright upon his black moustache in the coffin; and, lastly--woe, alas! Whereupon night and darkness fell upon the sky. [Footnote: Latin note of Bogislaff XIV.--"Tune ego ipse, nonne? hoc nobis infelicibus bene taciturnitate nostrum cohibitum est; Elector Brandenburgiæ sane omnia rapiet!" (Then I myself--is it not so? This was kept secret from us unfortunates. The Elector of Brandenburg will rob all.) Then in German he added:--"Yet the Lord is my light, of whom then shall I be afraid? Ah, that my poor soul, in truth, rested calm in heaven! For I am ready to be offered up like St. Paul (meaning through Wallenstein): 'Would that the time of my departure were at hand! '--2 Tim. iv. 6. Yea, come and take my heritage, George of Brandenburgh, I am weary of this life."] But these fearful signs were as carefully concealed from their Highnesses as if the whole people had conspired to keep the secret; besides, the figures were not observed at every place where the voices sounded. However, Doctor Joel himself came to the conclusion, in his own mind, that, after these open declarations from heaven, it would be quite useless to consult the angel. Nevertheless, to calm the mind of the Duke, he resolved to go through with the conjuration if possible, at least he might bind the hell-dragon of Marienfliess, and save others from her evil spells, if even the Duke and his illustrious race were already doomed. Now, having cast Sidonia's nativity, he found that the time in which alone her powerful evil spirit or familiar could be bound, coincided exactly with that in which the sun-angel might be made to appear; thus, the helpless hag could be seized at Marienfliess without danger or difficulty, at this precise hour and moment. So he determined to commence his conjuration at once by the magical bloodletting, and for this purpose wrote the following letter to Diliana, with which his Highness instantly despatched a horseman to Stramehl:-- * * * * * * JESUS! "NOBLE AND PURE VIRGIN,--Having found, _ex namtate Sidoniæ_, that it is possible to bind her evil spirit just at the moment in which we three stand within the circle to question the sun-angel, we must seek out a brave youth in Marienfliess whom you trust, and who by nature is so sympathetical with you, that he will experience the same sensations in his body while there, precisely at the same moment in which they are excited in you at Old Stettin. This can be accomplished only by the magic bleeding, performed upon you both; therefore I pray you, in the name of his Highness, to communicate with such an one, if so be there is a youth in whom you place trust, and by the next new moon come with him to Old Stettin, where I shall perform the magic bleeding on you both, that no time may be lost in commencing this mighty work, which, by God's help, will save the land. God keep you. Pray for me! "Your servant to command," M. JOEL. "Old Stettin, 19th June 1618." This letter grieved the young virgin, for she saw the magister would not cease his importunities. Nevertheless, to show her obedience to his Highness, and by the advice of her cousin Bastien, she consented to undertake the journey. Bastien likewise offered willingly to go through the magic bleeding along with her, but the maiden declined, and wrote privately to George Putkammer at Pansin the following letter:-- "Be it known to you, Sir Knight, that his Highness of Stettin has solicited my aid in a mighty magic-work, and desired me to seek out a youth in whom I trust, that magister Joel of Grypswald may perform a magic bleeding upon us both. So I have selected you, and desire therefore to meet you on St. John the Baptist's day, by ten of the clock in the forenoon, at the castle of Old Stettin. But my father or Saatzig is to know nothing of the matter; and you must promise neither to look upon me, nor sigh, nor press my hand, nor speak of marriage, whether we be alone or not. In this I trust to your knightly honour and noble nature. "DILIANA BORK. "Stramehl, 22nd July 1618." So on the appointed day Diliana arrived at the castle of Stettin, and his Highness was rejoiced to see her, and bade the magister Joel himself to bring all sorts of dainties for her refreshment, in order that the lacqueys might not be coming in and out, spying at what was going on. And immediately after, the court marshal flung open the door a second time, and my young knight appeared--marry, how handsome he looked--dressed just like a bridegroom! He wore a buff doublet, with sleeves of blue satin, bordered with scarlet velvet; scarlet hose broidered in gold--_item_, Spanish boots with gold spurs, and round his throat a ruff of the finest lace--_item_, ruffles of the same. So with his long sword by his side he entered, carrying his plumed beaver in his hand; and truly he blushed up to his very ears when he beheld Diliana seated there in her pomp and beauty, and he stammered and cast down his eyes upon his boots when the Duke addressed him, so that his Highness grew provoked, and exclaimed-- "What the devil, young man! have you an evil conscience? Can you not look any one straight in the face?" At this the young knight lifted his eyes boldly and fixed them upon his Grace, answering haughtily--"My Lord Duke, I can look the devil himself straight in the face, if need be; but what is this comedy which you are about to play with me and this young maiden?" This speech offended his Highness. "It was no mumming work they had in hand, but a grave and serious matter, which, as he did not understand, the magister would explain to him." So my magister began, and demonstrated the whole _opus theurgicum_; but the knight is as unbelieving as Jobst, and says-- "But what need of the angel? Can we not do the business ourselves? My lord Duke, it is now eleven o'clock; give me permission, and by this hour to-morrow morning Sidonia shall be here in a pig-sack. And long ago I would have done this of myself, or stabbed her with my dagger for her late evil deeds, if your Grace had not forbade me so to do at the burial of our gracious lord, Duke Philip II. The devil himself must laugh at our cowardice, that we cannot seize an old withered hag whom a cowboy of ten years old would knock down with his left hand." To which his Highness answered, "You are foolhardy, young man, to esteem so lightly the power of her evil spirit; for know that it is a mighty and terrible spirit, who could strangle you as easily as he has murdered others, for all your defiant speeches! Therefore we must conquer him by other means; and for this reason I look with hope to the appearance of the angel, who will teach us, perhaps, how to remove the spell from my illustrious race, which Sidonia's inhuman malice has laid on them, making them to perish childless off the face of the earth. If even you succeeded in seizing her, how would this help? She would revenge herself by standing there deaf and mute as a corpse, and would sooner be burned at the stake than speak one word that would remove this great calamity from our house." Then the knight said, "He would never consent that Diliana should run the great danger of citing a spirit." Which, when the maiden heard, she grew as red as the young knight when he first entered, and said with a grave and haughty mien-- "Sir knight, who gave you any right over my words or works? There may be other men in whom I place trust as well as you; and speak but another word of the like nature, and I will prove it to you by my acts." Marry, that was a slap on the mouth to my young knight, who grew as red as scarlet, and cast down his eyes upon his boots, while M. Joel began to demonstrate the magic blood-letting to them as follows-- "See here, young knight, and you, fair virgin, here are two little boxes of white ivory, of the same size and weight; and see, within each of them is suspended a little magnet, both cut from the one loadstone, and round in a circle are all the letters of the alphabet. Now, let each of you take a little box, carry it delicately, and by its help you can converse with each other though you were a hundred miles apart. This sympathy between you is established by means of the magic blood-letting. I make an incision in each of your arms, placed together in the form of a cross, then touch the knight's wound with the blood of the virgin, and the virgin's with the blood of the knight, so will your blood be mingled; and then, if one of you press the wound on the arm, the other will feel the same pressure sympathetically on the arm at the same instant, though ye be ever so far removed from one another. Now suppose that you, fair maiden, feel a pressure suddenly on the wound in your arm, you place the magnet box thereon, and the needle will point of itself, by sympathy, to the letters necessary to form a word, which word will be the same as that found by the magnet of the knight, who will likewise have the box on his arm at the same moment; thus ye can read each other's thoughts instantaneously, and this results entirely from the laws of sympathy, as described by the renowned Abbot Johannes Trithemius, and Hercules de Sunde." To all this my knight made no answer, but seemed much disturbed. However, the magister ordered him to retire into the next chamber and remove his doublet. _Item_, he bade the young maiden likewise to take off her robe, seeing that the sleeves were very tight. It was a blue silk bodice she had on, trimmed round the bosom with golden fringe, and a mantle of yellow silk embroidered in violets and gold. Now the maiden was angry at first with the magister for his request, but laughed afterwards, when she thought of Dorothea Stettin, and her absurdities with the doctor. So she said, "Here, cut open my sleeve, it matters not. I have more dresses with me at my lodging." This my magister does immediately, and draws forth the beautiful arm white as a snow-flake, throws the sleeve back upon the shoulder, and places Diliana with her face turned towards the window, on a seat which his Highness, the Duke, laid for her himself, while he exclaimed earnestly, "Now, Diliana, guard thy soul well from any evil thought!" Hereupon the poor young virgin began to weep, and said, "Ah! my Lord Duke, I have indeed need to pray for support, but I will look up to the Lord my Saviour, whose strength is made perfect in my weakness. Now the young knight may come, but let me not see him." On this, the magister called in the young man, and sat him on the same seat with Diliana, but back to back. Then he stepped to one side, and looking at them, said, "Eh, my Lord Duke, see the beautiful James's head. That betokens good luck. Pity that the younker has no beard! Young man, you have more hair on your teeth than on your chin, I take it. [FOOTNOTE: Having hair on the teeth, means being a brave, fearless person, one who will stand up boldly for his own.] Why do you not scrape diligently; shall I give you a receipt?" But the knight made no answer, only grew red for shame. Whereupon my magister left off jesting; and taking the young man's arm, laid it upon the maiden's, in the form of a cross, then opened a vein in each, murmuring some words, while the blood-stream poured down into two silver cups which were held by his Highness, the Duke. But, woe! my knight sinks down in a dead faint off his side of the couch to the ground. Which, when Diliana heard, she springs up with her arm still bleeding, and exclaims, "The knight is dead! Oh, save the knight!" Then the poor child wept. "Ah, what will become of me? What is this you mean to do with us?" So the magister gave over the young knight to the care of his Highness, who held a smelling-flask to his nose, while Dr. Joel took some of his blood and poured it into Diliana's arm, after which he bound it up. And then, when the young knight began to recover, she hastened, weeping, out of the apartment, saying, "Tell the knight not to touch his arm. When there is necessity I shall press mine. Farewell, gracious Lord Duke, and help me day and night with the sixth petition in the Lord's Prayer!" And she would not return, though the Duke called out after her, "A word, one word!" _Item_, M. Joel, "Bring a shift with you that belonged to your grandmother! Nothing can be done unless you bring this with you!" She hastens on to the inn, and when the knight recovered sufficiently to follow after her, behold, there was her carriage already crossing the Oder bridge, which so afflicted him, that the tears poured from his eyes, and he cursed the whole world in his great love-agony, particularly his Grace, the magister, and the ghost of Clara. For to these three he imputed all the grievous vexations and misfortunes he endured with regard to the fair maiden. Yet he lived in hope that she would soon press her wounded arm, and thus establish a sympathy of thought between them. So he set spurs to his horse and rode back again to his good castle of Pansin. CHAPTER XXI. _Of the awful and majestic appearance of the sun-angel, Och._ At last the blessed autumn arrived, and found my Ludecke still torturing and burning, and Sidonia still practising her evil sorceries upon man and beast, of which, however, it would be tiresome here to notice all the particulars. And on the 11th day of September, Jobst and his fair daughter arrived at Old Stettin, where the knight again tried to remonstrate with his Highness about the conjuration, but without any success, as we may easily suppose. Thereupon the Duke and the magister commenced a discipline of fastings. _Item_, every day they had magic baths, and this continued up to the midnight of the 22nd day, when they at last resolved to begin the great work, for the sun entered Libra that year on the 23rd day of September, at twenty minutes after two o'clock A.M. So they all three put on garments of virgin-white linen, and Diliana drew over hers a shift which had belonged to her grandmother of blessed memory, Clara von Dewitz, for she had not omitted to bring one with her, having searched for it with great diligence. Then she said to the magister, "Much do I wish to ask the angel, wherefore it is that God gives such power to Satan upon the earth? No man hath yet answered me on this point. May I dare to ask the angel?" Hereupon he answered, "She might fearlessly do it, he was himself curious." So they conversed, and meantime placed caps on their heads, made likewise of virgin linen, with the Holy _Tetragrammaton_ [Footnote: I have observed before, this was the name, Jehovah, in the Hebrew.] bound thereon. Then the magister, taking a hazel-wand in his right hand, placed the magic circle upon his breast with the left, which circle was made of parchment, and carved all over with magic characters, and taking up his book, bade the Duke bear the vinculum of the heavenly bodies, that is, the signet of the spirit; _item_, Diliana, the vinculum of the earthly creature, as her own pure body, the blood of the white dove, of the field-mouse, incense, and swallow's feathers. Whereupon, he lastly made the sign of the cross, and led the way to the great knights' hall, which was already illuminated with magic lights of virgin wax, according to his directions. Now as they all stepped out of the door in their white robes and high caps, shaped like the mitre of a bishop, there stood my Jobst in the corridor, purple with anguish and bathed in sweat--"He would go with them;" and when the magister put him back, saying, "Impossible," the poor knight began to sob, embraced his little daughter, "for who could tell whether he would ever see his only joy upon earth alive again? Ah, into what straits had the Duke brought him and his dear little daughter!" However, the magister bade him be of good heart, for that no evil could happen to his fair daughter, seeing that she had again and again assured him of her pure virgin soul; but they must lose no time now, if the knight chose to stand outside he might do so. To this Jobst consented, but when the three others had entered the knights' hall, my magister turned round to bolt the door, on which the alarmed father shook the door violently-- "He would never consent to have it bolted; if it were, he would burst it in with a noise that would waken the whole castle. He was a father, and if any danger were in there, he could spring in and save his poor little worm, or die with her if need be." So the magister consented at last not to bolt the door, but clapped it to, so that the knight could not peep through. He is not to be outwitted, however; drew off his buff doublet, took out a gimlet from his pocket, and bored a hole in the door, laid his hat upon the doublet, took his naked sword between his legs, and, resting both hands firmly on the hilt, bent down and placed his eye at the gimlet-hole, through which he could distinctly see all that passed in the room. And the three walked up to the centre of the hall, where the magic lights were burning, and the magister unloosed the circle from his breast and spread it out upon the ground, as far as it would reach, then he drew a figure with white chalk at each of the four corners, like interlaced triangles, and taking the vinculum of the heavenly creature, or the signet of the sun-angel, which was written with the blood of a coal-black raven upon virgin parchment, out of the hand of the Duke, hung it upon a new dagger, which no man had ever used, and fixed the same in the circle towards the north-- "For," said he, "the spirit will come from the north: only watch well for the little white cloud that always precedes him, and be not alarmed at anything, for I have too often practised this conjuration to anticipate danger now." After all this was done, and the pan of perfume, with the vinculum of the earthly creature, had been placed in the centre, the magister spake--"In the name of God the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen!" And stepped from the north side the first into the circle, within which he kneeled down and repeated a beautiful prayer. And the two others responded "Amen." Whereupon the wise Theurgist, the brave priest of the grand primitive old faith, rose up, made the sign of the cross at the north, and began the conjuration of the angel with a loud voice. They were harsh and barbarous words that he uttered, which no one understood, and they lasted a good paternoster long; after which, the priest stopped and said-- "Gracious Prince, lay thy left hand upon the vinculum of the heavenly creature;--virgin, step with thy left foot upon the signet of the spirit, in the north of the circle. After the third _pause_ he must appear." With these words he began the conjuration again; but, behold, as it was ended, a form appeared, not at the north but at the south, and glided on in a white bloody shroud, until it reached the centre of the circle. At this sight the magister was transfixed with horror, and made the sign of the cross, then said in an agitated voice-- "All good spirits praise God the Lord!" Upon which the spirit answered-- "In eternity. Amen!" Whilst Diliana exclaimed-- "Grandmother! grandmother! art thou indeed her spirit?" So the spirit glided three times round the circle, with a plaintive wailing sound, then stopped before Diliana, and making the sign of the cross, said-- "Daughter, take that shift of mine from off thee, it betokens misfortune. It is No. 7, and see, I have No. 6 for my bloody shroud." Whereupon it pointed to the throat, where indeed the red number 6 was plainly discernible. Diliana spake-- "Grandmother, how did these things come to pass?" But the spirit laid the forefinger on its mouth in silence. Whereupon she asked again-- "Grandmother, art thou happy?" The spirit answered-- "I hope to become so, but take off that shift, the angel must soon appear; it will be Sidonia's death shroud." As the spirit said these words it disappeared again towards the south, whereupon the knight at the gimlet-hole cried out-- "There was some one here, was it the angel?" "No, no," screamed Diliana, while she quickly stepped out of the circle, and drew off the shift. "No, it was my poor grandmother!" "Silence," cried the magister; "for God's sake, no talking more, we have already lost ten seconds by that ghost. Now quick with the vinculum of the earthly creature! My Prince, strew the incense upon the burner; virgin, dip the swallow's feathers in the blood of the white dove, and streak my two lips with them. Now all be still if you value your life. Eternity is listening to us, and the whole apartment is full of invisible spirits." Then he repeated the conjuration for the third time, and, behold, at the last word, a white cloud appeared at the north, that at every moment became brighter and brighter, until a red pillar of light, about an arm's thickness, shot forth from the centre of it, and the most exquisite fragrance with soft tones of music were diffused over the whole north end of the hall; then the cloud seemed to rain down radiant flowers of hues and beauty, such as earth had never seen, after which a tremendous sound, as if a clap of thunder shook not only the castle to its foundation, but seemed to shake heaven and earth itself, and the cloud, parting in twain, disclosed the sun-angel in the centre. Yet the knight outside never heard this sound, nor did old Kruger, the Duke's boot-cleaner, who sat in the very next room reading the Bible; he merely thought that the clock had run down in the corridor, and sent his wife out to see, and this seems to me a very strange thing, but the knight, through his gimlet-hole, saw plainly that a chair, which they had forgotten to take out the way of the angel at the north side, was utterly consumed by his presence, and when he had passed, lay there a heap of ashes. And the angel in truth appeared in the form of a beautiful boy of twelve years old, and from head to foot shone with a dazzling light. A blue mantle, sown with silver stars, was flung around him, but so glittering to the eye that it seemed a portion of the milky way he had torn from heaven, as he passed along, and wrapped round his angelic form. On his feet, rosy as the first clouds of morning, were bound golden sandals, and on his yellow hair a crown; and thus surrounded by radiant flowers, odours, and the soft tones of heavenly music, he swept down in grace and glorious beauty to earth. When the Theurgist beheld this, he fell on his knees along with the others, and prayed-- "We praise thee, we bless thee, we adore thee, O lofty spirit of God!--thou throne-angel of the Almighty!--that thou hast deigned by the word of our father Adae, by the word of our father Henoch, and by the word of our father Noah, to enter the darkness of this our second world, and appear before our eyes. Help us, blessed angel!--help us!" And the angel said, "What will ye?" Here the Duke took heart, and gave for answer, "Lord, an evil witch, a devil's sorceress, wickeder than anything yet known upon earth, Sidonia Bork by name----" But the angel let him continue no further, and with a glance of terrible anger exclaimed, "Silence, thou drunken man of blood!" Then, looking upon Diliana, murmured softly, "Speak, thou pure and blessed maiden!" At this the virgin took courage, and answered, "Our gracious Prince would know how the evil spirit of my cousin Sidonia can be overcome?" "Seize Wolde first," replied the angel, "then the evil spirit of Sidonia will become powerless. What wouldst thou know further?" Hereupon the modest virgin blushed, stammered, and looked down; then from awe and terror, scarcely knowing what she said, made answer-- "Behold, thy servant would know wherefore the All-mighty and All-merciful God hath, since the beginning of time, allowed so much power to Satan over His creatures, the works of His own hands?" Then the angel spake--"That is a grave and serious question, maiden, and the answer would be above thy comprehension; yet this much I will explain to thee--if there were no devil and no evil, many attributes of the Almighty God our Lord would have remained for ever hid from you, children of humanity, as well as from us, spirits of heaven. Therefore, from the beginning, hath God permitted such power to the devil as might show forth these His attributes to the wondering universe. First, after the fall, His _justice_ was revealed, as you have seen displayed in the old covenant, and this attribute could never have been manifested unless evil and the devil had entered into the world. Now, thought the devil when he beheld the manifestation of this terrible attribute, the whole human race must fall for ever to perdition, and the Lord God must be the first to murder the work of His own hands. But, lo! before heaven and earth, the great God manifested two new attributes; namely, mercy and love, for He fulfilled His word given to Satan in Paradise. The serpent-treader entered into the world, and oh! infinite wonder! heaven and earth, which till then had seen God but in His goodness, now beheld His love bleed from the wounds of His Son on Golgotha, and the world reconciled to Him for ever, through Christ. "Yet Satan still thinks to regain his lost dominion over the world; therefore it shall come to pass that the Lord will suffer him to become a mock and derision to all mankind, and for the first time since the world was made men will doubt his existence and disbelieve his power, and his name will be a scorn and idle word to the very children, and the old wives by their spinning-wheels. Then will be manifested some new attribute of divinity, of which as yet thou, nor I, nor any creature, may have an opportunity to contemplate. All this has lain in the purpose of God, in order to increase the happiness of His creatures; for all the other attributes of the Almighty, such as Infinity, Omnipresence, Omnipotence, awaken only _awe_ in the mind of the finite; but those attributes which He manifests in His triumph over sin and Satan, are what truly awaken _love_, and through love, above all, is the happiness of the creature advanced. When God has thus manifested all His attributes by means of sin and Satan, to the joy of His faithful servants, men and angels, for all eternity, who without sin and Satan would never have known them, then the great day of the Lord will come, when the wine of His love-spirit will inspire every creature that believes on Him in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth! Further----" But behold, at this word of the angel, a blue ray, about the thickness of an arm, came up from the south into the middle of the circle, and blended itself, trembling and glittering, with the radiant cloud and flowers. When the angel beheld this, he said-- "Lo! I am summoned to the ruins of Nineveh. Let me depart!" At this the Duke took heart again to speak, and began, "Lord, how is my ancient race----" But the angel again interrupted him with, "Silence, thou drunken man of blood!" And when the magister repeated the form which broke the conjuration, the angel disappeared as he had come, with a terrible clap of thunder; and clouds, light, flowers, odours, and music, all passed away with him, and the hall became dark and silent as the grave. But in a couple of seconds, just as the magister had stepped out of the circle with the virgin, who trembled in every limb, even as he did himself, my Jobst comes rushing in at the door with joyful mien, thanks God, sobs, embraces his little daughter twice, thrice--embraces her again, and at last asks, "What said the angel?" And they told him all--_item_, about the ghost of his poor mother, and what it desired. Then, for the first time, they observed that the Duke stood still within the circle with folded arms, and eyes bent upon the ground. "My Lord Duke, will you not step out of the circle?" exclaimed the magister. Whereupon the Duke started, sprang from the circle to the spot where they stood, and, seizing the magister by the throat, roared, "Dog of a sorcerer! this is some of thy black-art. Jobst here was right; thou hast raised no angel, but a devil!" At this the terrified magister first tried to release himself from his Grace's hold, then began to explain, but the Duke would listen to nothing. "It was clear as the sun this was no angel, but a devil, who, as St. Paul says, had transformed himself into an angel of light; for, first, the hellish emissary had called him a bloodhound. Now, what blood had he ever shed, except the blood of accursed witches? and this, as a just ruler, he had done upon the express command of God Himself (Ex. xxii. 18), where it is written:--'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.' No one, therefore, from heaven or upon earth, could blame him for fulfilling the commands of God, yet the spirit had blamed him. _Ergo_, he was not an angel, but a devil. Next, the knave twice called me a drunkard. Here clearly he showed himself no angel, but, as the Lord Jesus named him, the 'father of lies;' for tell me, friends, was I drunk to-day? If I do take a sleeping draught after the fatigues of the day--tell me, what does that matter to this impudent devil? So I say with that Mecklenburgh nobleman in Dobberan:-- 'Away, away, thou devil, from me, I care not a single hair for thee; In spite of the devil, a noble man Should drain to the last his drinking-can. I'll sup with the Lord and the saints the first, While thou, poor devil, must ever thirst. I'll drain the mead from the flowing bowl, While the devil is sitting in hellish dole; Therefore, away, thou devil, from me, I care not a single hair for thee. [Footnote: This inscription is still to be seen upon a tombstone in Dobberan.] And doth not Martinus Lutherus say-- 'Who loves not wine, women, and song, Remains a fool his whole life long'? Marry, the grievous devil may wait long enough before he makes me a fool. I am too sharp for the stuff with which he humbugs you, my wise chattering magister!" But the magister began to demonstrate how unlikely it was that Satan would give advice how to subdue himself; "For how then could his kingdom stand?" as the Lord said (Luke xi.). So the Duke listened, and grew thoughtful--at last exclaimed, "Well, come, we'll settle that over the wine-cup; and to spite the knave, we'll keep up the carouse till morning; the night is already half spent, and I have some glorious Muscadel in the cellar." My Jobst, however, will not remain; and Diliana asks, "What his Grace will do about Wolde?" This set his Grace again upon abusing the spirit--"Ay, truly, he must have been a devil--Master Beelzebub himself, and no good angel--for had he not bid him twice to hold his tongue when he began to ask about his old illustrious race, and what should be done to preserve it from utter destruction? The magister might go to the devil himself now, with all his magic; he saw clearly through the whole business." So a great strife arose between them, which ended in the Duke permitting the blessed maiden to press the wound in her arm, in order to communicate, by means of the magnetic alphabet, with the knight, who at that moment was keeping watch with his good sword in the chapel of Marienfliess. Everything, however, must be performed before the eyes of the Duke, else he would not believe it; so the young maiden, blushing for shame, pressed the wound on her arm; and after a brief space, cried out with wonder--"In truth I feel the pressure now of itself." Whereupon, at the command of the magister, she threw up her wide sleeve (for she still wore the magic robe), and placed the little box with the magnet on her arm, directing the magnetic needle, with a fine stick, to the letters, thus:-- S--E--I--Z--E----W--O--L--D--E. She then retired to a chamber, to put on her own dress, and had scarcely finished when she feels the pressure on her arm again. Whereupon she calls to his Grace and the magister, who set the magnet immediately on her arm, when, to the great surprise of his Grace, the needle turns of itself to the letters-- S--H--E----I--S----S--E--I--Z--E--D. This sight gave my gracious Lord fresh courage: "And after all, perhaps that was an angel; for surely Sidonia would have protected her maid, if her evil spirit had not become powerless, as the spirit had foretold. And now they would soon have the arch-sorceress herself. He would send a horseman instantly to Christian Ludecke, who was burning witches at Colbatz, to hasten, without delay, to Marienfliess." At last he permits Jobst, since he will not drink, to take his leave; "yet he and his fair daughter must first promise, by their honour, not to breathe a word of the magic conjuration, since the ignorant and stupid people would only make a mock of such matters; and why cast pearls before swine, or holy mysteries to dogs?" And truly they kept the secret of his Grace, so that not a word was known thereof until Duke Bogislaff the Fourteenth communicated the same to me, precisely as he had the facts from his brother, and gave me permission to publish them in my "History of Sidonia." CHAPTER XXII. _How old Wolde is seized, confronted with Sidonia, and finally burned before her window._ Meanwhile the young knight, George Putkammer, had ridden over to Marienfliess on the appointed day, to Sheriff Eggert Sparling's. He mentioned nothing of the great magic work, as the Duke had forbidden him to do so, but merely said that he had orders from the Prince to seize Sidonia that night. At this, my sheriff shuddered: "The young knight should reflect on what he was about; young people were often foolhardy and confident, to their utter ruin. What did he want from him? If he got half the world for it, he would not touch even the clothes of the devil's hag. He had tried it once, and that would do him for his life." But the knight answered, "He had pledged his word to the Duke, and must hold by it. His worship must just give him a couple of stout fellows to help him." _Ille_.--"Did he really think that in the whole bailiwick a fellow could be got to go with him, when it was known he was going to seize the sorceress--the devil's night-bird? Ha! ha! ha!" _Hic_.--"Then he would do it alone. His worship must just give him some cords, and show him a prison where he could put the vile witch." _Ille_.--"Cords he should have, as many as he wished, but on no account must the hag be brought to the court-house. He knew her well, and would take care to have nothing to do with her." _Hic_.--"At least, then, his worship must lend him a horse, and he would bind the dragon thereon with stout cords, and carry her away to his good castle of Pansin, where there was a deep dungeon, in which he could lay her, until he knew the Duke's pleasure." _Ille_.--"The horse he might have, and choose one himself from the stall, and if it pleased him, bind the witch on its back there in the churchyard, under the linden-trees; but to the court-house the witch must not come--certainly not--or she would suspect him of having a hand in her capture. Yet let the knight think again, and give up this dangerous business, or surely they had beheld each other for the last time." But the knight only waited until the clock pointed to ten; then taking a lantern, he goes and chooses out a stout white mare (for such, they say, are antipathetical to witches), ties her to a linden in the churchyard, enters the church, lights the altar candles, and sits there, reading in the large Bible; until about the hour that the conjuration was taking place at Old Stettin, when a strange feeling of uneasiness came over him, and he rose up and walked to and fro in the church in great agitation. Suddenly he felt a pressure on his wounded arm, and turning up the sleeve of his doublet, pressed in return, after which, he laid the magnet upon it, and, to his surprise, read that he was to seize Wolde, not Sidonia. Instantly he took up the lantern and the cords, put his good sword under his arm, and ascended the steps up to the nuns' gallery, and from that, entered the convent corridor, as the door between always lay open; but stumbling, by chance, into Anna Apenborg's cell, she led him down a flight of stairs to the ground floor, and close to the refectory, where she pointed to a little chamber adjoining, whispering, "There is where the old cat snores;" then creeps behind a barrel, to watch, while the knight, holding the light before him, stepped at once into the cell, crying, "Stand up, old night-bird, and get on thy rags, thine hour hath come." A scream of horror was the answer from the hag, and she clapped violently at the refectory wall, calling out, "Help me! help! help! a fellow has seized me, Lady Prioress!" But the knight was resolved to make quick work of it; and hearing a stir already in Sidonia's apartment, threw himself upon the hag, and bound her hands tight with the cords, while she screamed, and struggled, and yelled piteously for the Lady Prioress; then dragging her up, he exclaimed, "Since thou didst not heed me, now thou shalt come off naked as thou art; better the devil should not have a rag to catch hold of. Come!" But a fearful-looking form just then rushed into the room--it was Sidonia, just as she had risen from bed, bearing a lamp in her hand, with her white hair flowing wildly about her face and shoulders, and her red glowing eyes fixed menacingly upon the knight. She had just begun a terrific curse, when the young man, seeing the cat in his red hose following, lifted his sword and with one blow cut him clean in two, but started back, for the first time, in terror, when he beheld one half, on its two legs, run quickly under Wolde's bed, and the other half, on the two other legs, make off for the refectory, through the door which had been left open. Even Sidonia recoiled at the sight; but soon, with increased ferocity, sprang at the knight, screaming and clenching her hands. But he cried out, "Hold! or I will cleave thee in twain, even as thy cat." And in truth she stopped stone-still, but soon began to spit and murmur. Whereupon he cried out again, "Ay, spit and mumble; but know that my good friend, of whom I told thee, stands without, and if but a finger of mine aches, now or in future, he hath sworn thy death." Then swinging Wolde's clothes, which lay on the bed, over her shoulder with the point of his sword, he exclaimed to Sidonia--"Away, away, or the like will be done to thee!" Whereupon, amidst the howling of the hag, and the horrible curses and maledictions of Sidonia, he re-crossed the gallery and the church, the lame she-devil still howling before him, till they entered the churchyard; after which my brave knight bound her feet upon the white mare, and rode away with her to his good castle of Pansin. I had forgotten to notice before, that the pastor was not buried within the church, as his widow first intended, but was laid outside in the blessed earth, because she feared that the man-wolf might get at him again within the church-vault and tear him. _Summa_.--That same evening the witch-commissioner, Christian Ludecke, arrived with his secretary at Marienfliess, according to the mandate of the Prince; and behind them come two waggons, on one of which sits the executioner with his assistants, the red flag floating above him, and the second is laden with the instruments of torture and the rack; for those belonging to the court-house of Marienfliess were not considered powerful enough. And, as usual, they enter the town chanting a sacred hymn, at which sound every one shudders, but my sheriff is particularly horror-struck; and, rushing out to meet them at the court-house, cried out-- "What the devil! is the bloodhound back again? Did he think that witches grew up in the town like cabbages?" but held his peace instantly, when he heard that all was done by command of the Prince. So the lame hag was brought back again from Pansin that night, and the _articuli indictionales_ were drawn up against her, in which it was not forgotten that years before she had sat in the cellar of the poor dairy-woman's mother, and there bewitched the cocks and hens, as many old people still living could testify; and the bailiff's wife is by no means slack either in helping her to the same death as the poor dairy-mother. While the whole town and adjacent country rang with these proceedings, Sidonia's disquietude became evident. Every day she sent Anna Apenborg up to the court-house, and there the said Anna and the serving-maid of the scriba were seen with their heads together in every corner conversing, and each day brought less comfort to the terrible witch of Marienfliess. Therefore, about this time, she changed her demeanour to the nuns, and in place of her usual fierce and cruel bearing, she now became quite mild, threw up her eyes, went regularly to church every Sunday, and sighed deeply during the sermon. Day and night she was singing spiritual songs, and sent to Stargard to purchase prayer-books, all to make the world think that she had grown truly religious. _Item_, she sent her new maid, Anna Dorings by name, to Stargard, to purchase mercury for her from the apothecary; and when the maid handed the same to her, she heard her murmur as if to herself, while she locked up the poison in her press-- "So now, at least, they can do nothing worse with me than behead me!" Then she went herself one day to Stargard, and visited a celebrated advocate, called Elias Pauli. "The world was now so hard-hearted, and the devil so active, that she feared her turn might come next to be tried for a witch, just for the sympathy she showed for the poor creatures. Alas! how Satan blinded the reason of men; for when were such cruelties ever heard of as were practised now on poor helpless women? (Weeping.) And would not my Elias defend her from this ferocious bloodhound, Christian Ludecke, who had come again to Marienfliess, and boasted loudly that, when he had made an end of her old maid, Wolde, he would seize her next; and even sworn that, to make a terrible example of her, her nose and ears should be torn off with red-hot pincers ere she was tied to the stake. And what would my Elias do for her? She had a few dozen gold crowns which her sister Dorothea had left her by will, and willingly she would give them, if he turned the base malice of her enemies to shame. Ah, he might take pity on her; for she was a good and holy virgin, and as innocent of all they charged her with as the child in the cradle!" (Weeps and sobs again.) So the cunning witch had struck the right nail on the head, for my Elias was a great lover of coins; and though he had a few silver and many copper, yet not a single gold one did he possess. Therefore he became thoughtful after her speech, and walked up and down the room for a quarter of an hour, after which he stood still, and answered-- "Lady, you know as well as I do that your name is notorious throughout the whole land, and little hope can I give you if you are brought to trial. However, I will do what I can to delay the time as much as possible; perchance from your great age, and the bitter heart-remorse you must, no doubt, suffer, you may end your miserable life before they can lay violent hands on you. Pray to the Lord God, therefore, day by day, for your speedy death! I will, likewise, pray for you. Meanwhile, if any evil befall you, I will write petitions in your favour to all the neighbouring princes, to the resident nobles, and to the Duke himself in Stettin, for your race is one of the most illustrious in all Pomerania. And respecting the gold crowns which you promise, send them speedily; for remember from the moment they arrest you, your _inventorium_ is sealed." This my hag promised, and took her leave; but, woe! the first news she heard upon her return home was, that her maid, by a decree of the council at Stettin, had that day been put to the torture; and having on the rack confessed that she (Sidonia) was the true arch-sorceress, they were to be confronted with each other on the morrow. This news Anna Apenborg told her before she had well descended from the coach--_item_, many of the other nuns confirmed the rumour; so that the unfortunate wretch at last resolved, in despair, to put an end to herself. However, she had little inclination to taste the mercury, I think. So in the twilight she creeps out behind the brew-house, which stood three or four feet from the convent wall, so that no one in the convent could see what she was about, draws a ladder after her, sets it against the wall, and mounts, intending to spring down into the river below and drown herself. Now it happened that in the oak-wood, at the opposite side of the stream, my Ludecke and the sheriff were walking up and down, and the sheriff's teeth were chattering in his head from pure fright; for a courier from Stettin had arrived that very evening with an order from his Grace, commanding him, under pain of severe punishment and princely disfavour, to be present, along with Jobst Bork, on the following morning, when Sidonia and Wolde were confronted. Their eyes were suddenly attracted to a head rising above the opposite wall, then long white hair fluttered wildly in the evening breeze, and afterwards a thin black form appeared, until the entire figure stood upon the top of the wall, and extended its arms as a young stork its wings, when it essays to leave the nest, while the eyes were fixed on the water below. Instantly they both recognised Sidonia, and saw what her purpose was. "Let her, let her," whispered the sheriff to the other; "if she is dead, if she is dead, we shall all rest in peace!" But the other seized a stone, and flung it with all his might at the wall, crying out, "Wait, thou shameless witch; doth thy conscience move thee so?" Whereupon the black figure dropped down again behind the wall as quickly as possible. And my Ludecke, being loath to lose the fat morsel he had ready for the flames, resolved to place four guards over her in the refectory; but though the whole town was searched--_item_, menaced that the executioner should scourge them man by man, yet no one will undertake the dangerous office. At last four fellows are found, who promise, for a tun of beer at the very least, to hold watch in the convent square, so that the witch cannot get away out of the building, with which my bloodhound is obliged to be content. Next morning, at nine of the clock, Sidonia was cited to appear in court, but as she did not come, and mocked the messenger who was sent for her, Ludecke commanded the executioner to go himself, and if she would not come by fair means, to drag her by force. The fellow hesitated, however-- "It was a dangerous business; but if his worship was very anxious, why, for a good horse from the ducal stables, he might dare it, since his own nag had fallen lame." So this being promised, he departed, and, in a short time, they beheld the carl in his red mantle dragging Sidonia up to the court-house; and, methinks, many within shuddered at the sight; for there were present sitting round the green table--Christian Ludecke, Eggert Sparling, Jobst Bork, and the scriba, Christopher Kahn. But when the executioner threw open the door, and bade the witch take off her shoes and enter backwards, she refused and scolded-- "What? her bitterest enemies were to be her judges. The thick ploughman from Saatzig, who had stolen her rents from the farm-houses at Zachow; _item_, the arch-cheat Sparling, who robbed his Prince every day--such rabble--burgher carls--secretary fellows, and the like--no; she would never enter. She was the lady of castles and lands; besides, her advocate was not here, and she had engaged one at Stargard;" finally she pushed the door to with her foot. "Master," cried the bloodhound within, "seize the witch in the name of the Prince!" Whereupon the door was again thrown open, and my hag, sobbing loudly, was forced into the court in her socks, and backwards. [Footnote: Because the judges on witch-trials feared the evil influence of the glances of the accused.] "And what did they want with her?" she asked, still sobbing. Whereupon the commissioner made a sign to the executioner, who instantly admitted old Wolde Albrecht by the same door. She entered barefoot, and in the black shift worn upon the rack, upon which the red blood lay in deep fresh stains. When Sidonia beheld this she shuddered. But Ludecke rose up and admonished Wolde to speak the truth without fear, and to remember that, on the morrow morning, at that very hour, she would stand before the throne of God--there was yet time to save her poor soul. So the old lame hag began to sob likewise, and lament, and says at last-- "O Lady Prioress, I must save my poor soul! I would not betray you else." Then she spoke out, and told bravely all she knew about Sidonia, and her evil spirit Chim; and how Chim used to help her own familiar, whose name was Jurgen, to get rid of Sidonia's enemies; _item_, that the devil Chim sometimes took the form of a man, for she had seen him frequently in Sidonia's chamber. At this Sidonia raged and scolded, and flew at Wolde to seize her by the hair, but Ludecke interposed, and threatened, if she were not quiet, to give her up to Master Hansen for a few turns or so for trial; upon which she remained silent from terror apace, but soon began again to sob, and exclaimed-- "Yes, yes; she must think of her blessed Saviour, who likewise was betrayed and trodden under foot by one who had broken bread with Him! She had not only given bread to this wretch, but twice had given her life. Oh, woe, woe to the shameless creature, who could step before the throne of God with such a lie in her mouth!" At which the other wept, and answered with loud sobs-- "Ah, gracious Lady Prioress, if I had not my poor soul to save, I would betray you never!" Then by desire of the court, she confirmed by oath her previous statements. Whereupon Sidonia was led back to her cell in the convent by the executioner, and forbidden, upon pain of death, to leave it without permission. Whereupon her rage knew no bounds; she scolded, stamped, menaced, and finally cursed her cousin Jobst, as well as the commissioner, jailers, and hangmen, as they were. The third day the pile is erected again by the executioner, there where the others stood, that is, not far from the window of Sidonia, and as it was necessary for one of the criminal judges to be present at the burning of a witch, Jobst Bork proceeded thither with a great concourse of people, for my Eggert had excused himself, saying he was sick, though, methinks, I know what sickness he had--namely, the hare's sickness; and Jobst admonished the witch, who hobbled along in her white shift and black cap, leaning on a crutch, not to accuse his poor cousin falsely, for let her think where she would stand in a few moments. There was the pile before her eyes, an image of the eternal hell-fire. But she held by her first confession, and even after the executioner made her ascend the ladder, she turned round at the third step, and cried-- "Give her shoulder as good a wrench as ye gave mine, and she will soon confess, I warrant." But behold, when the executioner, by desire of the upright Jobst, had bound her fast with wet cords, in order soon to make an end of her, and lit the pile up round about, the flames were still blown away from the stake by the wind, and would not touch the hag, so that many saw in it a miracle of Satan, and wondered, till an old peasant stepped forth from the crowd, and cried, "Ha, ha, I will soon settle her." Then seizing her crutch, which she had dropped at the foot of the pile, he stepped up the ladder, and pitched off her black cap with his stick, whereupon a black raven flew out, with loud croakings, and disappeared towards the north, and instantly after the flames blazed up around her, covering her all over like a yellow mantle, with such rapidity that the people only heard her shriek once. CHAPTER XXIII. _How Diliana Bork and George Putkammer are at length betrothed--Item, how Sidonia is degraded from her conventual dignities and carried to the witches' tower of Saatzig in chains._ When Jobst returned home to Saatzig from the execution, he seemed much disturbed in his mind, which was unusual to him, and sat by the stove plunged in deep thought. At length he calls his little daughter Diliana from the spinning wheel where she sat. "Ah, the Prince had set his life in great peril, but more than the Prince himself did she, his little daughter, plague him by showing herself so cold to the brave young knight. She ought to leave off this prudery, else he feared by the next time the sun was in the propitious position, that his Highness would send for her again to question the devil--there was nothing such a fanatic would not do; but if she would only press her arm now, and bid the young knight come. Where could she meet with a braver husband?" At this the young maiden blushed up to her very eyes, and asked earnestly-- "Father, think you the good knight stays away because I have not summoned him?" _Ille_.--"Of course, my child. Thou forbadst him to approach thee until summoned; and now where could be a greater proof of his love than in having obeyed thee?" _Hæc_.--"Ah me, I have wondered so, father, why he never sought me. I never meant that; you surely misunderstood me. But, father, if you wish--shall I summon him by the magnetic sign?" _Ille_ nods his head, laughing. Whereupon Diliana, blushing yet more, pressed her arm, and feeling a pressure in return almost immediately, pushed up her sleeve, set the magic box thereon, and with her golden breastpin directed the magnetic needle to the letters-- C--O--M--E---D--E--A--R--E--S--T. Whilst my Jobst looked over her shoulder, so that his long grey beard fell upon her neck, and when he read the letters he embraced and kissed her, telling her that a better kisser would soon come and save him the trouble--meaning the knight; and truly scarce half-an-hour had passed, when the cloud of dust could be seen through the trees, which was raised as he rode along, and, panting and agitated, he sprang into the room, exclaiming to my Jobst--"Where is Diliana?" But she sits mute in the corner, red as a rose, and looks down upon the ground. So my Jobst laughed, and pointed to the blushing rose in the corner, whereupon the young knight, George, in a moment is by her side, and had her hand in his, and asks-- "If his loved Rachel will not end his weary years of serving now, and be his for evermore?" "Yes," she murmured through her soft tears. "I will be yours now for evermore;" and she extended her two arms towards him. Marry, how soon my young knight took the trouble off the old father; so that Jobst danced for joy at the sight, and clapped his hands, and swore that such a wedding should be held at Saatzig, that people would talk about it for fifty years. But, alas! the wedding must wait for a year and a day! for, in two days the young knight is laid upon a sick bed, and brought so low that at one time his life was despaired of. However, he comforted himself by pressing his wounded arm three times a day, and thus corresponding with his betrothed by means of the magnet. So they told their grief and their love to each other daily in these few words. And many think that his sickness was a devil's work of Sidonia, or of old Wolde's planning; but he himself rather judged it arose from the wild ride to his young bride on the morning she bade him come. This matter, therefore, I leave undecided. Yet no one can surely fathom all the cunning wiles of Satan; for though many said Sidonia's power is now broken by Wolde's death, and indeed the poor sheriff was the only one who still played the hare, and kept the roaring ox safe up in the stall--still, so strange a thing happened at this time to the knight, Ewald von Mellenthin, that the criminal court thought proper to take cognisance of the matter, and so we find it noted down in the records of the trial. For, mark! This same knight, being summoned to give evidence, deposed to Sidonia having in his presence flung a hatchet at his dear bride, Ambrosia von Guntersberg, who had been now a long while his well-beloved spouse, which hatchet had wounded her in the foot. Then turning to the hag, he exclaimed wrathfully-- "Ha! thou devil's witch, hast thou found thy recompense at last?" Whereupon Sidonia made a face at him after her fashion, and menaced him with the vengeance of her friends. But what friend had she but Satan, who avenged her on this wise. For, as some days after, the knight Ewald was driving with his cousin Detloff, between Schlotenitz and Schellin, such an awful roaring, and raging, and storming was heard in the air over their heads, that the two foremost horses took fright, broke their traces, threw the coachman, who was nearly killed, and dashed off across the field through thick and thin, and never stopped till they reached Stargard, trembling, panting, and exhausted, about evening time. The knight laid all this evidence before the criminal commission, and my hare grew so frightened thereupon, that next day, while listening to the depositions of more witnesses, seeing a shadow hop along his paper, he started up in horror, screaming, "There are the toad-shadows again! O God, keep me! There are the toad-shadows again!" But the special commissioner, who had also observed the shadow, and got up to look out at the window, now called out, laughing heartily, "Marry, good Sparling, the shadow belongs to one of your worship's brothers--a poor little sparrow, who is hopping there on the house-top. Go out and see, if you don't believe me." Whereupon the whole court burst out into a loud fit of laughter, to the great annoyance of my hare. Whilst Ludecke is drawing up his _articulus inquisitionalis_, Sidonia's advocate, Dr. Elias Pauli, was not idle. And first he stirred up the whole race of the Borks in her favour, letting it come to the Duke's ears through his grand chamberlain, Matzke Bork, that if Sidonia were treated with gentleness, and thereby brought to make confession, assuredly there was great hope that for this grace and indulgence she would untie the magic knots of the girdle wherewith she had bewitched the whole princely race, and laid the spell of barrenness upon them. But if extreme measures were resorted to, never would she do this for his Highness. So the Duke was half moved to consent, and bade his superintendent, Mag. Reutzius, come to him, and he should instantly repair to Marienfliess, visit the sorceress in her apartment, where she was _bis dato_, guarded a close prisoner. Let him read out the seventy-four articles of the indictment to her himself, admonish her to confess, and in his (the Duke's) name, offer her pardon if she would untie the knots of the girdle. Did she refuse, however, let her be brought the following Sunday to the convent-chapel, there, in the presence of the whole congregation, before the altar he was again to admonish her. If she still persisted in her lies and wickedness, then let him summon the executioner to strip her of her cloister habit before the eyes of all the people. When he had further pronounced her degradation from all her conventual dignities, she was to be put in fetters and carried to the witches' tower at Saatzig. My worthy father-in-law offered many objections against this public degradation, but his Highness was resolved, and would listen to no reasons, his wrath was so great against the hag. Now it may be easily conjectured what crowds of people gathered in the chapel when the blessed Sabbath bell rang, and the news ran from mouth to mouth, that the witch was to be denounced and degraded that day before the altar. Never had so many folk been seen within the walls. And when the church was so full that not a soul more could squeeze in at the doors, the people broke in the windows, and setting ladders against them, clambered through, and swung themselves right and left on the balustrades, and above and below, and on all sides, there was not a spot without a human face. Yea, four younkers crowded under the baldaquin of the pulpit, and another carl got on the altar behind the crucifix, and would have knocked it down, but my worthy father-in-law, seeing it shake, caught hold of the carl by the tail of his coat, and dragged him forth. _Item_, the whole criminal commission is present; _item_, all the nuns in their gallery, with the exception of the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin, who, along with two other women, had devoted themselves to a fearful act of vengeance (which I would hardly have believed of them), but it will be related presently. As to Sidonia, she had been brought in already, and placed on the penitential stool before the altar, after which the organ struck up that terrible hymn, "Eternity, thou thunder word!" Yet, as it happened that the congregation had not got this hymn in their Psalm-books, seeing that it was quite a new one (which circumstance had been overlooked in the general agitation), they were obliged to sing that other, beginning, "Now the awful hour has come." Then the reverend priest, M. Reutzius, advanced to the altar, having first chanted the litany, and there, to obey the Duke's behests as nearly as possible, opened his sermon with some verses from the afore-mentioned hymn, which I shall set down here for the sake of the curious reader:-- "Eternity, thou thunder word! Piercing the soul like sharpest sword, Beginning without ending! Eternity! Time without Time, I know not in my grief and crime Whereto my soul is tending. The fainting heart recoils in fear To see thy shadow drawing near. In all the world there is no grief To which Time brings not some relief, Though sorrow wildest rages; But thou, Eternity, can bring No balm to lessen hell's fierce sting, Through never-ending ages. For even Christ Himself hath said, 'There's no repentance for the dead.' So long as God in Heaven reigns, So long shall last the sinner's pains, In hell's fierce tortures lying. Eternal fires will plague the soul, Thirst, hunger, horror, fear, and dole, The soul itself undying. For hell's dark shades will never flee, Till God Himself hath ceased to be!" After which he read out the words of his text to the criminal, telling her how his Serene Highness had selected the same himself out of paternal clemency and in all uprightness. Then he explained it, admonishing her yet once more to save her poor soul and not plunge it into eternal perdition. After this, he kneeled down along with the whole congregation, and prayed to the Holy Spirit for her conversion, so that every one in the church wept and trembled and sobbed. Then he rose up again and spake: "I ask you, for the last time, Sidonia von Bork, do you confess yourself guilty or not?" And while every one held their breath suspended, the terrible sorceress rose up and spake out with bold defiance-- "I am innocent. Curse upon the bloodthirsty Prince, who has brought me to this shame; my blood be upon him and upon his race!" "No!" cried the priest from the altar; "he hath saved his soul; thy blood be upon thyself, and thy perdition upon thine own head!" Then he lifted his right hand as a signal to the executioner, whereupon Master Worger stepped forward in his red mantle with six assistants. And first he draws forth a pair of scissors from beneath his cloak, and cuts off her nun's veil (for by command of the criminal judge, she had only a simple veil on to-day), and he and his assistants trampled it beneath their feet. Then he cuts a slit in her black robe, just beneath the chin, and tore it down from head to foot, as a draper tears linen, and at this sight, and the harsh sound in the silence of the church, many amongst the nuns fainted. When all this had been done, and Sidonia now stood there in her white under-garment, Master Worger, by command of the court, put fetters on her, and riveted them tightly. So that at the terrible sound of the hammering and clanking, and the thundering reverberation through the vaulted church, so great a horror and fear fell upon every one present, that all the nuns who had not fainted rushed out of the gallery; _item_, a crowd of people from the nave, and even the priest holding his hands before his eyes, hastened after them. She was soon lifted up by the executioner and his assistants, and thrown into the cart over which the red flag waved; then driven off without delay to Saatzig, a great crowd of people trotting along with her. And even in Saatzig the whole town ran together when the cart with the criminal was seen emerging from the wood, and the executioner blew his trumpet to give notice to the warder on the tower of their approach, as had been agreed upon. Amongst the crowd, however, my Jobst is not to be seen; yet when the cart stops, the beautiful form of Diliana is seen pressing forward. She is dressed in a deep mourning mantle, and bears a golden beaker of wine in her hand--weeps, and says mildly-- "Here, dear cousin, drink! You shall have everything as good as I can make it for you, and eat what I and my father eat. Ah! cousin, cousin, wherefore did you not make full confession?" Herewith she reached out the beaker to the cart, but the evil witch screamed out-- "Confess! What should I confess, you fool? Away with your stuff; I will not be fed by your charity!" Whereupon she dashed aside the beaker so fiercely that it fell to the ground, and the wine splashed all over the young maiden's robe. Then, clenching her withered hand, she shook it at the window-- "Ha! the thick ploughman. Where hath the devil hid him? the thief that stole my rents from Zachow! This is my reward for having cured him! But wait, I will make him repent it yet," &c. And she would have gone on much longer with her curses, but the executioner gave her another blow with his fist, which made her hold her tongue. Then he and his fellows lifted her from the cart, and as she was unable to walk from shame, and despair, and wrath, they carried her up the winding stairs to the witches' tower; and she glowered into the little chamber which she had occupied fifty years before, at the time she murdered poor Clara von Dewitz, for they had to pass by it to reach the witches' tower, which lay two flights of stairs higher up. And when Master Worger laid her down in the damp dark hole, and shook out some straw for her to lie on, the knave grinned and said--"What would she do now for company? The devil would scarcely come; still a companion would be pleasant." The witch, however, made no answer, only looked down upon the ground, muttering to herself. Whereupon the knave laughed again and cried, "Eh, wait, I have got a companion for you!" And opening a sack he had brought with him, took out a blackened human head, and then two long, black, half-burned bones; placed the bones crosswise on the ground, and set the head atop of them, then said, "So, now you have right merry company. That is Wolde's head, as you may perceive; and now ye may conjure the devil together as ye were wont." Then, grinning maliciously, he went out, locking the prison door upon the unfortunate wretch and the death's-head. Meanwhile, my Jobst and his fair daughter are plunged in great perplexity and despair at the Duke's cruel order to have Sidonia sent to their castle of Saatzig. Therefore, the indignant knight sat down and wrote an earnest remonstrance to his Highness the Duke, and prayed his Grace, therefore, to remove this millstone from his neck, or he would resign the post of Governor of Saatzig, and withdraw to his own good castle of Pansin. This letter he despatched by a running courier to Old Stettin, and it produced a good effect upon the Duke; for, in three days, an order arrived for Sidonia's removal to Oderburg; and the crowds gathered round the cart, from all parts, to see her as she passed along--as thick as if it had been the time of the annual fair. God be thanked, I have now got her as far as the Odenburg! For as concerning her long imprisonment there, her frequent examinations, and, finally, the question by torture, what need for me to relate them here, seeing that your Highness and your illustrious brothers were present during all behind the green screen? I, too, Doctor Theodore Plonnies, assisted at the trial as high-sheriff, Anton Petersdorf was _protonotarius_ to the criminal court, and Johann Caude, the _notarius_, conducted the _protocollum_. Besides, when I look back and think of her shrieks, and how the dry withered limbs writhed and cracked upon the wheel, till the black blood poured forth from her nails and teeth, my head swims and the sight leaves my eyes--therefore, away with it! This only will I notice, that her advocate, Doctor Elias Pauli, preserved her in truth for a year and a day from the rack and a bitter death, by his keen and cunning devices, thinking that she would make away with herself some way or other, by mercury or else, to escape the stake. But no such thing: she was as afraid of death as a cat of hot broth; so at last he had to suffer justice to take its course. Whereupon this Satan's hag, on the 28th July 1620, at four o'clock in the afternoon, pursuant to a decree of the electoral-court of judges of Magdeburg in Saxony, was brought into the great hall at Oderburg. and there stretched upon the rack, as I have above mentioned, to force her to a confession upon seventeen _artlculos inquisitionales_, many of which I have noticed here and there through the preceding chapters. CHAPTER XXIV. _Of the execution of Sidonia and the wedding of Diliana._ After the torture, the poor malicious old wretch became so weak that she thought herself like to die, and therefore bade my worthy godfather, Doctor Cramer, to be brought to her that she might make full confession at last. And her repentance, in truth, seemed earnest and real now; for after the communion she bade them bring her coffin--then sat up, and looking at it for a long while in silence, at last said-- "I shall soon rest there in peace; meantime, carry it out again till I am dead." But such a hunger for the blessed sacrament was caused by her death fears, and not by holy repentance; for as she did not die, but rather after some days grew strong again (probably because the Lord God chose to spare her yet longer, for a more fearful and terrible warning to all sinners), she returned, "like a sow, to her wallowing in the mire." And more particularly did she spit forth her poisonous curses upon the whole princely race, when the court-painter, Matthias Eller, arrived at the prison with an order from his Highness, to paint her portrait, now in her hideous old age, behind that which he had seen at Wolgast, representing her in the prime of youthful beauty. Long did she weep and groan when she looked upon the portrait of what she had been sixty years before; then clenched her fists, and cursed to all eternity the princely race which had first brought her to public dishonour--she so young and innocent--and not content with that, now thirsted to see her noble blood flow from the gallows. "Ah, that was indeed the portrait of her youth! for her princely bridegroom had got it painted secretly, because of his haughty arrogant mother, by a painter in Wolgast; but she had revenged herself on the proud old woman at last. The golden chain was her own, but the gold hair-band and the sable collar had been a present from her young bridegroom, And now, what was left of all her pomp and magnificence! See what these accursed princes had brought her to with their envy, arrogance, and savage vengeance--she that was the richest lady in the land was now the poorest beggar, and had not wherewithal even to purchase a death-shift." Meanwhile the report spread throughout all Pomerania land that Sidonia was dead, and had been privately buried. The cause was this,--when the executioner and his fellows carried out her coffin after she had seen it, they told the eager and curious rabble, who gathered round and had been roaring out for her death, that she was dead already and lay within, and so they would lose the fun of seeing her burned; and this they said in jest, to disappoint the filthy and savage mob. So the news spread through the land and reached Saatzig, where it was confirmed by an honourable knight from Old Stettin, who answered them on oath that he had seen her coffin carried out with his own eyes. So my Jobst and his fair daughter are glad, and thank God that one of their noble race had been spared the disgrace of falling by the hands of the hangman; the young Diliana, in especial, rejoices, and when her lover arrived from Pansin in the afternoon (for he was grown well and strong again), she threw herself on his bosom, rapturously exclaiming-- "Dearest George, our poor cousin is dead; now may the wedding be--now may the banns be published!" However, the news soon came how the mistake had happened, and that Sidonia was still alive. But as the banns had been already published and the wedding fixed for the 18th of July, Diliana at length consented to abide by the arrangement, particularly as they heard also that the execution would be delayed for some time, in consequence of the Elector of Saxony having sent in his protest against it to the Ducal Court of Stettin. Indeed, so many powerful princes protested against this public disgrace, by reason of Sidonia's high rank, that many thought she would be allowed to go away perfectly free. _Summa_.--Already, by the evening of the 17th, the noble guests had gathered at Saatzig, and of the Borks, almost the whole illustrious race is present; among whom were particularly noticeable the Honourable Aulic Councillors, and Councillors of Administration, Just, Andreas, and Henning. _Item_, all the Putkammers, among whom came the old burgomaster Wolff, with his sons, Benedictus, Asso, Gerson, Matthias, Wolfgang, &c. So that by midnight the castle rang with merriment and revelry; and old Jobst Bork was so beside himself with joy, that he flung the empty flasks, as he drained them, up at the monks' heads which were carved round the capitals of the pillars in the great knights' hall, crying out, "That is for thee, monk!" But the festive night hath a sad morning, without talking of all the drinkers who snored till mid-day. However, all were ready at last to go to the bridal, only waiting for Matzke Bork, the princely chamberlain, who had promised, if possible, to be present at the marriage, along with his Serene Highness himself, Duke Francis. So they watched from the windows, and they watched from the towers, but never a one of them is to be seen; and the guests impatiently pace up and down the great hall, which is all wreathed and decorated with flowers and banners. But the young bridegroom is the most impatient of all. He paced up and down the hall, arm-in-arm, with his betrothed, when at last a carriage was heard approaching, and every eye was turned to the window, but Matzke Bork sits in it alone. He enters disturbed and mournful, and when the knight of Saatzig asks him where he has left his Highness the Duke, he answers-- "The Duke will drink blood in place of wine to-day! Listen, good cousins, to what the Duke hath resolved concerning our kinswoman Sidonia. Her sentence hath been pronounced, and this very day will be carried into effect: first, her nose and ears are to be torn up with red-hot irons, at three different quarters of the town, by the public hangman, and afterwards she is to be burned alive at a slow fire." When he ended, all the Borks present screamed with horror, and gathered round him: "And was it not possible yet to change this sentence?" But Matzke answered, "He had tried all entreaties, but in vain; even three times he had cast himself on his knees before his Highness, yet could obtain no mitigation; for his Grace was incensed against the witch, because of her arrogant defiance, and her stubborn refusal to remove the spell from the princely race, and sent orders to the executioner to build the pile by eight of the clock on the following morning, and burn her alive thereon." When he ceased speaking, the uproar in the hall rose to the highest. Some of Sidonia's kin, amongst whom was Jobst, swore the devil's hag deserved it all; and how could her death bring dishonour upon them? But some thought evil of the insult offered to their race, and cursed his Highness, and would spring to their saddles and ride to Stettin on the instant. Matzke, however, lifted his voice, and bade them have reason. "They must endure what could not be altered. Jobst was right: was the proud oak the worse because a rotten branch was lopped off? Were they to come before his Highness with such mien and gesture, why, he would straight order them all to be clapped into prison, and then, indeed, would disgrace rest on their illustrious name. No, no; for God's sake, let them rest here. His Grace was too full of wrath now to listen even to his preachers, the ministers of God. How, then, would he hear them? Let them rather rest in peace, and forget the fate of their evil cousin in the festivities of the bridal." "Ay, good cousins and guests," quoth the bridegroom, "let us to the bridal, and the Word of God will calm us, and bring us upon other thoughts. But where is my beloved Diliana?" They sought her in the hall--in vain! They ran all through the castle--in vain! Diliana is away, and no one knows whither she has gone. But the maiden hath a brave spirit, and hath wrapped a black mantle belonging to her mourning robes over her bridal dress, and drawn the hood over her myrtle wreath; then taking the shift of her grandmother, Clara, in her hand, which she had kept ready by her for such a case, she descended to the stables, where there were only two grooms to be seen, all the others having joined the crowd round the church to catch a sight of the bridal procession, had the best palfrey saddled, took one groom with her, pressed some money into the hand of the other, and bade him not tell, for three hours, that she had gone to Old Stettin. Then rode away, striking, however, into a bypath, to deceive the guests, in case they should attempt to follow her. And her journey ended all safely; for in four hours she was in Old Stettin, without having been pursued. And reaching the ducal residence, she alighted, hastened up the stairs, bowed proudly to the princely official without uttering a word, and proceeded straight to the apartment of the Duke. There threw off her travelling hood and mantle, and knocked bravely at the door. "Enter!" exclaimed the voice of his Highness. Upon which the beautiful maiden in her bridal robes, and the myrtle wreath on her hair, stepped in. At which sight his Grace, who was reclining on a couch, started up, took her hand smiling, and asked--"For the love of Heaven, what brought her hither upon her festal-day?" So she began: "This was no festal-day, but a day of shame to her and her whole race, because of the horrible and incredible tidings brought to them by Matzke Bork, respecting their old kinswoman, Sidonia; therefore she had left bridegroom, bridal, and festival, and ridden away alone, to see if she could not turn away such a disgrace from her noble race, and such horrible torture from her poor old kinswoman. Had she not freely perilled her life for his Grace? If they had not succeeded, at least it was no fault of hers. Let him recall the terrible decree, and if her cousin deserved death, as she doubted not, command her to be beheaded, as had at first been agreed upon. This, at least, was a more honourable and less painful death. His Grace must grant her prayer, for she would not move from the spot until he did so." But his Grace is inexorable, and recapitulates all the sins of the demon hag; "how she had defied him, and made a mock of the holy sacrament; and wherefore did he bear the sword from God, if it were not as a just Prince, to set her forth a terrible warning and example to all; for witchcraft was increasing day by day in the land, and witches were almost as plenty as flies." His Grace then paced up and down a long while in silence. At last spake-- "Now, for thy sake, the first decree shall hold good, although never was one so unworthy of my favour as this hag." Whereat the young virgin was so moved with gratitude, that she fell down on her knees before his Grace, and bedewed his hand with her tears. Just then some one knocked, and the jailer entered-- "The witch had taken another fit of conversion, and prayed for a priest. _Item_, for a fresh shift, for she had not changed her linen for four weeks, and no one would give her a fresh shift." When Diliana heard this she wondered much over the dark providence of God, and said--"Wait, I will give thee a shift for her;" stepped out into the gallery and took Clara's, No. 7, which she had brought with her, out of her travelling mantle, and, in truth, this was the very shift in which the murderess was carried to her death. _Summa_.--The jailer hath scarcely got the said shift under his arm, when the clatter of footsteps is heard upon the stairs, and then another knock at the Duke's apartment, and this was my knight George Putkamraer, who rushed in, arrayed in his wedding finery, but all covered over with dust, since he had not given himself time to fling a cloak over his dress. He clasped his young bride to his heart, and half scolded her for leaving him privately before the bridal. But when he heard of her noble courage, and what she had accomplished, he was glad again, and kissed the hand of his Grace, and he must now grant them one favour more, and return with them to the wedding. "The distance was only five miles, and he had the finest Malmsey that ever was drunk to present to his Highness." At this hearing his Grace exclaimed-- "Eh, George, where have you got the Malmsey? Ha! younker, hast thou a cup of Malmsey? I will go with thee right heartily to Saatzig!" And his Grace wanted to order carriages instantly to carry them all off, that so they might arrive that same evening at the castle, but Diliana objected-- "No, she would stand by her word, and never hold bridal in Saatzig until her poor cousin lay at rest in her grave. This night she would remain in the town, and not leave it until she had seen the last of her poor cousin." A long strife now ensued, but Diliana remained firm to her resolve. So his Highness said, at last, that he would play the messenger himself, and journey off to the wedding the moment he had given orders to his chancellor respecting the change of Sidonia's sentence. He was better pleased not to be in the place when she was executed. Diliana could stay the night in the castle with his dear spouse, the Duchess, and the knight might look after a place for himself. He would desire all the wedding-guests to be ready to-morrow at midday for the bridal, and if Diliana and the knight disliked riding, let them order a carriage from the marshal of his stables, with fresh Frisian horses, and in a couple of hours they would be at Saatzig. However, Diliana would not remain the night in the castle, but went to her cousin, the lady of Matzke Bork, because her house stood not far from the place of execution, although the place itself was not visible, and my younker went down sorrowfully to the inn to pass the night there, but betimes in the morning was up and off to his dear little bride. He finds her in the second story, but no longer in her bridal magnificence; a black mourning garment covered her entire person; and when the knight started in dismay at her appearance, she said-- "That no other robes beseemed a Bork when one of their race was going to her death; and she heard that the procession to the scaffold was to come that way from the Otterburg, and would pass in half-an-hour, therefore she was prepared to behold it. It was well that the scaffold itself was hidden from their sight; but would her dear George just go over and bid some one hoist a flag when the head of her cousin fell." So the knight did her will, but when he returned said-- "Diliana, if thou givest me so many nuts to crack when we are married, methinks it will be an evil thing." To which she answered mildly-- "No, dear George, after marriage it is the wife who cracks all the hard nuts, but to-day, dearest, it is thy office. I know not why, but I have a feeling over me to-day as if the soul of my poor grandmother would be at rest after this execution, and that Sidonia herself will be, in some sense, pardoned through the means of that death-shift, No. 7; yet wherefore I think this I know not." Just then a dull, hoarse, murmuring sound was heard in the distance, like the heaving of the waves when thunder is in the air, and the Lady Matzke's maid rushed in exclaiming--"She's coming! she's coming!" Then Diliana trembled and turned pale, but still advanced to the balcony with her cousin and the young knight. At length the terrible sorceress herself appears in sight, accompanied by the school, chanting the death-psalm. She wore a white robe seamed with black, and Diliana recognises, with a shudder, that this is indeed Clara's shift, for she had herself thus stitched the seams in order to know it; but besides, the No. 7 was plainly discernible on the neck. She walked barefoot, and round her head was bound a black fillet flowered with gold, from beneath which her long white hair fluttered in the wind. Diliana contemplates all this awhile shudderingly, then covers her face with both hands, and sobs and weeps, so that the tears pour down through the delicate little fingers, and my younker hath enough to do to comfort her. But when the procession disappears she dries her eyes, re-enters the chamber, and folding her hands across her bosom, walks up and down, praying earnestly, until the red Danish flag shoots up. Then she sighed deeply, and drying her beautiful eyes again said softly-- "May God have mercy upon her soul, now her tortures are over!" Scarcely are the words uttered ere a dense cloud of smoke ascends above the fisher's house, rising higher and higher, like a lofty black tower in the air, so that they all conjectured--"Now she is burning on the pile," and shuddered, yet are content withal that at last her fearful life has ended. Then they all knelt down and repeated the Lord's Prayer; then rising, addressed themselves in earnest for their homeward journey. And here, with the death of Sidonia, I might justly close my book, merely stating in addition, that her ashes were laid in the burial ground for the poor, and that some time after the gentle Diliana caused a tombstone to be erected over them, out of Christian charity and forgiveness. But as some say his Highness the Duke got his death at the wedding of Diliana, I shall briefly narrate the facts here, to please the curious reader. For the said Duke was so much taken with the Malmsey wine, that he sat up drinking the whole night, and next morning his legs were swelled to that degree that his boots had to be cut oft with knives. So that when the bridal pair arrived, his Grace had to receive them in slippers, yet rejoiced much at hearing that all was over; and then, scarcely giving Diliana time to recover herself, despatched the whole company off to the church. Not, however, without giving serious admonitions, both to the priest and the knight, George, not to let the ring drop. For if Dr. Luther, the thoughtless lubberhead, had not let the ring fall at the wedding of his grandfather in Forgau, it would have been better with him and his whole race, as his grandmother of blessed memory had always said, and now indeed he saw she had spoken wisely. Now my Jobst in the confusion of voices, hearing only the word "monk," thought his Grace was speaking of the monks' heads on the capitals of the pillars in the hall. So seeing two empty flasks, shouted, "Ay, that is for thee, monk!" and pitched them crash! crash! with such force up at the monks, that the pieces flew about the ears of the musicians who were to play before the bridal pair going to church, and a loud peal of laughter rang through the hall--after which they all set off for the wedding at last. And in truth this was a blessed marriage. But respecting the illustrious and princely race of Pomerania, they perished each and all without leaving behind one single inheritor of their name or possessions. Not, methinks, because of the spell which the demoniac sorceress laid on them, but because He loved this race so well, that He withdrew them from this evil world before the dreadful strifes, wars, and calamities came upon them, which our poor fatherland now endures. For before these storms broke over our heads, He called them one by one from this vale of tears, and truly, the first was his Highness Duke Francis, for in a few months after Sidonia's execution, after a brief illness, on the 27th December 1620, he fell asleep in God, aged 43 years, 8 months, and 3 days, without leaving children. The next was Bishop Udalricus, who likewise became suddenly ill at Pribbernow, near Stepnitz, with swollen body and limbs, and had to lie there until his death, on the 31st October 1622, when, to the great grief and consternation of the whole land, his young life closed at the early age of 34 years, and he too left no children, though he had a young and beautiful spouse. The next who died was Duke Philip Julius of Wolgast, the only son of Ernest Ludovicus and his spouse Hedwig. He was a wise and just ruler, but followed the others soon, on the 16th February 1625, aged only 40 years, 1 month, and 28 days--likewise, as all the rest, left no children. But our Lord God hath not withdrawn so many and noble princes from the world without sending forth strange and wonderful signs to forewarn the land; for, without speaking of the great thunderclap which was heard all of a sudden in the middle of clear fine weather, the winter after Sidonia's death, and the numberless mock suns that appeared in different places, or of that strange rain, when a sulphureous matter, like starch in appearance, fell from the air (_item_, a snow-white pike was caught at Colzow in Wellin, seven quarters long, and half an ell broad, with red round eyes, and red fins), a stranger wonder than all was seen at Wolgast; for suddenly, during a review held there, one of the soldier's muskets went off without a finger being laid on it, and the ball went right through the princely Pomeranian standard with such precision, that the arms seemed to have been cut out all round with a sharp knife. At Stettin also, in the castle-chapel, one of the crowns suspended over the stalls fell down of itself; but still more awful was what happened respecting Bogislaus XIII., last father of all the Pomeranian princes. For all along, by the pillars of the aisle, there are figures in armour representing the deceased dukes. And during the sermon one Sunday, the sword fell clanging to the ground from the hand of the armed figure representing Bogislaus XIII., though no human hand ever touched it. At this sight every one was troubled in spirit, but woe, alas! we now see what all these supernatural signs and wonders denoted! Yet still we have one noble prince remaining with the ancient blood of Pomerania in his veins. May the Lord God spare him long to us, and bless him, like Abraham, with a son in his old age. Such an Isaac would be a blessed sight to me; for when the last branch falls, I know that my poor heart will break also! DR. THEODORUS PLÖNNIES. CONCLUSION. _Mournful destiny of the last princely Pomeranian remains--My visit to the ducal Pomeranian vault in Wolgast, on the 6th May 1840._ Bogislaf XIV., who as a truth-loving, amicable, and pious glossator, has annotated so many places in our text, found this "last and happy hour," which he had so long desired, on the 10th March 1637. When he had attained the age of fifty-seven years, his death occurred at a period of unexampled misery, the like of which before or since was never seen in our whole German fatherland. Yet the destiny of the Zantalides which followed the princely Pomeranian house, seemed in no way propitiated even by their death. No; it raged, and rages still, against the last poor remains of their mouldering clay. Bogislaff, during the horrors of the thirty years' war, remained for _seventeen_ years unburied, because none of the princes who fought for the possession of Pomerania' would consent to bear the expense of the burial, and the land was too poor to take the cost upon itself. Yet his corpse suffered no further indignities like those of his princely kinsfolk of Wolgast. For after ninety-four years we find him still lying calmly in his coffin, looking upward to his God through the little window which he so often sighed after. We shall first take a look at him before we descend into the Wolgast vault to contemplate the disgusting sacrilege which has been perpetrated and permitted there. Every reader of sensibility will feel interested in the following details, which are taken from Oelrich's valuable work, "Memorials of the Pomeranian Dukes," p. 87:-- "On the 19th of April 1731, a royal commission opened the vault in the castle-church of Stettin, wherein many of the noble princes of Pomerania lay buried, and the coffin of Duke Bogislaff was broken open by especial command. The body was found quite perfect. Even the face was tolerably preserved, though the eyes had fallen in; for the skin had dried over the features, and the beard was long and somewhat red; the coffin was lined throughout with violet velvet (some say black), bordered with stones which had the appearance of turquoise. The corpse was dressed in a surplice, similar in form to that worn by priests at the present day, but fringed with silver, and likewise ornamented with turquoise. Upon the left hand there was a diamond ring and another. The diamond was quite pale, and the right hand was lying close to the side, as if going to seize the dagger. Farther, they found a long and massive gold chain suspended round the neck, and upon the breast a silver plate, like the bottom of a silver beaker, upon which the Pomeranian arms were engraved. "Beneath the coffin of this last Duke of Pomerania lay the ducal flag, but the pole was broken in two, either from design or in consequence of decay; and above the coffin were remains of crape and mouldered fragments of velvet. _Lave anima pia!_ "But the princely remains of Wolgast had indeed a mournful destiny. True; they were not left unburied for a number of years, but they were plundered and outraged, in such a disgraceful and revolting manner, by church-robbers, that it is impossible even to read the account of it in the Swedish protocol of 21st June 1688, from which Heller gives extracts in his 'Chronicle of the Town of Wolgast,' p. 346, without as much pain as emotion. [Footnote: Only one of these robbers was seized-he was whipped and banished; the second hanged himself, and the other escaped. One was a Jew; the other two were the sexton and gravedigger of the church.] "Yet the Swedish Government seemed content to rest with the simple investigation, and took no trouble about, or showed the least respect for, the ashes of those to whom they were indebted for land and people. For the coffins lay there just as the robbers left them--broken open with axes and hatchets, or wrenched asunder with crowbars, and still lie in this state. However the vault was closed up, and no one was permitted to enter it unless in the presence of one of the reigning family; for this reason very few ever beheld these mournful remains. I myself would probably never have had an opportunity of so doing, only that the Prussian Government resolved on building some additions to the Wolgast church; and, at the same time, desired the foundation to be evened, for it had sunk in various places, and afterwards to wall up the princely vault for ever. In order to work at the foundation, it was necessary to remove the great stone which covered the entrance to the vault, and many along with myself availed themselves of this last opportunity to visit the interior. Therefore, on the day named above, I descended with deep emotion the steps that led to it. I found the vault was divided into two compartments, having vaulted roofs of about seven or eight feet high. In the first partition no coffin whatever was to be seen, but I could distinguish already the glitter of the tin coffins in the second compartment, which was reached by a further descent of a few steps, and lit up by the torches and lanterns of numerous visitors who had preceded me. The coffins were nine in number, and mostly covered with tin; each lay on a tressel of mason-work, and bore the marks, more or less, of the violence that had been employed to wrench them open. "The strong Philip I. began the mournful range. A gentleman handed me his skull, in which scarcely a tooth was wanting. Then I searched in the adjoining coffin for that of his spouse Maria, 'my gracious Lady of Wolgast,' of Doctor Theodore's History. I found it, took it in the other hand, and cannot describe the strange feeling which came over me. "When I had indulged some time in strange and deep emotions, I laid down the honourable relics again in their coffins, and stepped to that of Ernest Ludovic, the unfortunate lover of the still more unfortunate Sidonia. According to the protocol of 1688, which I held in my hand, there was to be seen there a violet velvet mantle, and a cap without anything inside. There they were--nothing more to find--all fallen in dust, the weak head as the weak heart! Close to him lay his unfortunate wife, Sophia Hedwig of Brunswick, both the most beautiful persons of their time. "But my interest was excited most by the contemplation of Philip Julius, the last Duke of Pommern-Wolgast, who has only received a passing notice in this book, but who was one of the most gifted, and probably the most lamented Prince of his thousand-year-old race. His coffin was of far costlier workmanship than the others, and decorated with a row of gilded angels' heads; near it stood the black wooden tressel, upon which it had originally been placed, and which looked as fresh as if it had been only just placed there, instead of having lain in the vault for two hundred and fifteen years. A strange sensation crept over me! We were both silent, till at last the gentleman began to search with his hand in the grey mouldering dust, and along with some rags of velvet, he brought up a damp, discoloured scrap of paper, which he carelessly tore; but I instantly seized it, and joined the pieces together again, for the signification of such little notes in the coffins of old times was not unknown to me. "And, in fact, I found what I sought; there was not only marked on it the date of the Duke's burial, the 6th of May, which had a mystic significance to me, since it was on the very 6th of May that I was now standing to contemplate these mute yet eloquent graves, but also there was noted down the text from which the funeral sermon had been preached (2 Tim. iv. 7), as well as the list of the psalms sung on the occasion, among which the closing psalm--'When sorrow assails thee,' is still to be found in most hymn-books. But my poor old Pomeranian heart could bear no more: I placed the paper again in the coffin; and, while the tears poured from my eyes as I ascended the steps, those beautiful old verses came into my head, and I could not help reciting them aloud:-- 'So must human pomp and stat In the grave lie desolate. He who wore the kingly crown, With the base worm lieth down: Ermined robe, and purple pall, Leaveth he at death's weird call. Fleeting, cheating human life, Souls are perilled in thy strife; Yet the pomps in which we trust, All must perish!--dust to dust. God alone will ever be; Who serves Him reigns eternally!'" MARY SCHWEIDLER THE AMBER WITCH THE MOST INTERESTING TRIAL FOR WITCHCRAFT EVER KNOWN PRINTED FROM AN IMPERFECT MANUSCRIPT BY HER FATHER ABRAHAM SCHWEIDLER, THE PASTOR OP COSEROW IN THE ISLAND OF USEDOM EDITED BY WILLIAM MEINHOLD DOCTOR OF THEOLOGY TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY LADY DUFF GORDON PREFACE In laying before the public this deeply affecting and romantic trial, which I have not without reason called on the title-page the most interesting of all trials for witchcraft ever known, I will first give some account of the history of the manuscript. At Coserow, in the island of Usedom, my former cure, the same which was held by our worthy author some two hundred years ago, there existed under a seat in the choir of the church a sort of niche, nearly on a level with the floor. I had, indeed, often seen a heap of various writings in this recess; but owing to my short sight, and the darkness of the place, I had taken them for antiquated hymn-books, which were lying about in great numbers. But one day, while I was teaching in the church, I looked for a paper mark in the Catechism of one of the boys, which I could not immediately find; and my old sexton, who was past eighty (and who, although called Appelmann, was thoroughly unlike his namesake in our story, being a very worthy, although a most ignorant man), stooped down to the said niche, and took from it a folio volume which I had never before observed, out of which he, without the slightest hesitation, tore a strip of paper suited to my purpose, and reached it to me. I immediately seized upon the book, and, after a few minutes' perusal, I know not which was greater, my astonishment or my vexation at this costly prize. The manuscript, which was bound in vellum, was not only defective both at the beginning and at the end, but several leaves had even been torn out here and there in the middle. I scolded the old man as I had never done during the whole course of my life; but he excused himself, saying that one of my predecessors had given him the manuscript for waste paper, as it had lain about there ever since the memory of man, and he had often been in want of paper to twist round the altar-candles, &c. The aged and half-blind pastor had mistaken the folio for old parochial accounts which could be of no more use to any one. [Footnote: The original manuscript does indeed contain several accounts which at first sight may have led to this mistake; besides, the handwriting is extremely difficult to read, and in several places the paper is discoloured and decayed.] No sooner had I reached home than I fell to work upon my new acquisition, and after reading a bit here and there with considerable trouble, my interest was powerfully excited by the contents. I soon felt the necessity of making myself better acquainted with the nature and conduct of these witch trials, with the proceedings, nay, even with the history of the whole period in which these events occur. But the more I read of these extraordinary stories, the more was I confounded; and neither the trivial Beeker (_Die bezauberte Welt_, "The Enchanted World"), nor the more careful Horst (_Zauberbibliothek_, "The Library of Magic"), to which, as well as to several other works on the same subject, I had flown for information, could resolve my doubts, but rather served to increase them. Not alone is the demoniacal character, which pervades nearly all these fearful stories, so deeply marked, as to fill the attentive reader with feelings of alternate horror and dismay, but the eternal and unchangeable laws of human feeling and action are often arrested in a manner so violent and unforeseen, that the understanding is entirely baffled. For instance, one of the original trials which a friend of mine, a lawyer, discovered in our province, contains the account of a mother, who, after she had suffered the torture, and received the holy Sacrament, and was on the point of going to the stake, so utterly lost all maternal feeling, that her conscience obliged her to accuse as a witch her only dearly loved daughter, a girl of fifteen, against whom no one had ever entertained a suspicion, in order, as she said, to save her poor soul. The court, justly amazed at an event which probably has never since been paralleled, caused the state of the mother's mind to be examined both by clergymen and physicians, whose original testimonies are still appended to the records, and are all highly favourable to her soundness of mind. The unfortunate daughter, whose name was Elizabeth Hegel, was actually executed on the strength of her mother's accusation. [Footnote: It is my intention to publish this trial also, as it possesses very great psychological interest.] The explanation commonly received at the present day, that these phenomena were produced by means of animal magnetism, is utterly insufficient. How, for instance, could this account for the deeply demoniacal nature of old Lizzie Kolken as exhibited in the following pages? It is utterly incomprehensible, and perfectly explains why the old pastor, notwithstanding the horrible deceits practised on him in the person of his daughter, retained as firm a faith in the truth of witchcraft as in that of the Gospel. During the earlier centuries of the Middle Ages little was known of witchcraft. The crime of magic, when it did occur, was leniently punished. For instance, the council of Ancyra (314) ordained the whole punishment of witches to consist in expulsion from the Christian community. The Visigoths punished them with stripes, and Charlemagne, by advice of his bishops, confined them in prison until such time as they should sincerely repent. [Footnote: Horst, _Zauberbibliothek_, vi. p. 231.] It was not until very soon before the Reformation, that Innocent VIII. lamented that the complaints of universal Christendom against the evil practices of these women had become so general and so loud, that the most vigorous measures must be taken against them; and towards the end of the year 1489, he caused the notorious Hammer for Witches (_Malleus Malleficarurn_) to be published, according to which proceedings were set on foot with the most fanatical zeal, not only in Catholic, but, strange to say, even in Protestant Christendom, which in other respects abhorred everything belonging to Catholicism. Indeed, the Protestants far outdid the Catholics in cruelty, until, among the latter, the nobleminded Jesuit, J. Spee, and among the former, but not until seventy years later, the excellent Thomasius, by degrees put a stop to these horrors. After careful examination into the nature and characteristics of witchcraft, I soon perceived that among all these strange and often romantic stories, not one surpassed my "amber witch" in lively interest; and I determined to throw her adventures into the form of a romance. Fortunately, however, I was soon convinced that her story was already in itself the most interesting of all romances; and that I should do far better to leave it in its original antiquated form, omitting whatever would be uninteresting to modern readers, or so universally known as to need no repetition. I have therefore attempted, not indeed to supply what is missing at the beginning and end, but to restore those leaves which have been torn out of the middle, imitating, as accurately as I was able, the language and manner of the old biographer, in order that the difference between the original narrative, and my own interpolations, might not be too evident. This I have done with much trouble, and after many ineffectual attempts; but I refrain from pointing out the particular passages which I have supplied, so as not to disturb the historical interest of the greater part of my readers. For modern criticism, which has now attained to a degree of acuteness never before equalled, such a confession would be entirely superfluous, as critics will easily distinguish the passages where Pastor Schweidler speaks from those written by Pastor Meinhold. I am, nevertheless, bound to give the public some account of what I have omitted, namely-- 1st. Such long prayers as were not very remarkable for Christian unction. 2d. Well-known stories out of the Thirty Years' War. 3d. Signs and wonders in the heavens, which were seen here and there, and which are recorded by other Pomeranian writers of these fearful times; for instance, by Micrælius. [Footnote: Vom Alten Pommerlande (Of Old Pomerania), book v.] But when these events formed part of the tale itself, as, for instance, the cross on the Streckelberg, I, of course, allowed them to stand. 4th. The specification of the whole income of the church at Coserow, before and during the terrible times of the Thirty Years' War. 5th. The enumeration of the dwellings left standing, after the devastations made by the enemy in every village throughout the parish. 6th. The names of the districts to which this or that member of the congregation had emigrated. 7th. A ground plan and description of the old manse. I have likewise here and there ventured to make a few changes in the language, as my author is not always consistent in the use of his words or in his orthography. The latter I have, however, with very few exceptions, retained. And thus I lay before the gracious reader a work, glowing with the fire of heaven, as well as with that of hell. MEINHOLD. THE AMBER WITCH INTRODUCTION. The origin of our biographer cannot be traced with any degree of certainty, owing to the loss of the first part of his manuscript. It is, however, pretty clear that he was not a Pomeranian, as he says he was in Silesia in his youth, and mentions relations scattered far and wide, not only at Hamburg and Cologne, but even at Antwerp; above all, his South-German language betrays a foreign origin, and he makes use of words, which are, I believe, peculiar to Swabia. He must, however, have been living for a long time in Pomerania at the time he wrote, as he even more frequently uses Low-German expressions, such as occur in contemporary native Pomeranian writers. Since he sprang from an ancient noble family, as he says on several occasions, it is possible that some particulars relating to the Schweidlers might be discovered in the family records of the seventeenth century, which would give a clue to his native country; but I have sought for that name in all the sources of information accessible to me in vain, and am led to suspect that our author, like many of his contemporaries, laid aside his nobility and changed his name when he took holy orders. I will not, however, venture on any further conjectures; the manuscript, of which six chapters are missing, begins with the words "Imperialists plundered," and evidently the previous pages must have contained an account of the breaking out of the Thirty Years' War in the island of Usedom. It goes on as follows:-- "Coffers, chests, and closets were all plundered and broken to pieces, and my surplice also was torn, so that I remained in great distress and tribulation. But my poor little daughter they did not find, seeing that I had hidden her in the stable, which was dark, without which I doubt not they would have made my heart heavy indeed. The lewd dogs would even have been rude to my old maid Ilse, a woman hard upon fifty, if an old cornet had not forbidden them. Wherefore I gave thanks to my Maker when the wild guests were gone, that I had first saved my child from their clutches, although not one dust of flour, nor one grain of corn, nor one morsel of meat even of a finger's length was left, and I knew not how I should any longer support my own life, and my poor child's. _Item_, I thanked God that I had likewise secured the _vasa sacra_, which I had forthwith buried in the church in front of the altar, in presence of the two churchwardens, Hienrich Seden and Claus Bulken, of Uekeritze, commending them to the care of God. And now because, as I have already said, I was suffering the pangs of hunger, I wrote to his lordship the Sheriff Wittich v. Appelmann, at Pudgla [Footnote: A castle in Usedom, formerly a celebrated convent.], that for the love of God and His holy Gospel he should send me that which his Highness' Grace Philippus Julius had allowed me as _præstanda_ from the convent at Pudgla, to wit, thirty bushels of barley and twenty-five marks of silver, which howbeit his lordship had always withheld from me hitherto (for he was a very hard inhuman man, inasmuch as he despised the holy Gospel and the preaching of the Word, and openly, without shame, reviled the servants of God, saying that they were useless feeders, and that Luther had but half cleansed the pig-stye of the Church--God mend it!). But he answered me nothing, and I should have perished for want if Hinrich Seden had not begged for me in the parish. May God reward the honest fellow for it in eternity! Moreover, he was then growing old, and was sorely plagued by his wicked wife Lizzie Kolken. Methought when I married them that it would not turn out over well, seeing that she was in common report of having long lived in unchastity with Wittich Appelmann, who had ever been an arch-rogue, and especially an arrant whoremaster, and such the Lord never blesses. This same Seden now brought me five loaves, two sausages, and a goose, which old goodwife Paal, at Loddin, had given him; also a flitch of bacon from the farmer Jack Tewert. But he said I must shield him from his wife, who would have had half for herself, and when he denied her she cursed him, and wished him gout in his head, whereupon he straightway felt a pain in his right cheek, and it was quite hard and heavy already. At such shocking news I was affrighted, as became a good pastor, and asked whether peradventure he believed that she stood in evil communication with Satan, and could bewitch folks? But he said nothing, and shrugged his shoulders. So I sent for old Lizzie to come to me, who was a tall, meagre woman of about sixty, with squinting eyes, so that she could not look any one in the face; likewise with quite red hair, and indeed her goodman had the same. But though I diligently admonished her out of God's Word, she made no answer, until at last I said, 'Wilt thou unbewitch thy goodman (for I saw from the window how that he was raving in the street like a madman), or wilt thou that I should inform the magistrate of thy deeds?' Then, indeed, she gave in, and promised that he should soon be better (and so he was); moreover she begged that I would give her some bread and some bacon, inasmuch as it was three days since she had had a bit of anything to put between her lips, saving always her tongue. So my daughter gave her half a loaf, and a piece of bacon about two hands-breadths large; but she did not think it enough, and muttered between her teeth; whereupon my daughter said, 'If thou art not content, thou old witch, go thy ways and help thy goodman; see how he has laid his head on Zabel's fence, and stamps with his feet for pain.' Whereupon she went away, but still kept muttering between her teeth, 'Yea, forsooth, I will help him and thee too.'" CHAPTER VII. _How the Imperialists robbed me of all that was left, and likewise broke into the church and stole the Vasa Sacra; also what more befell us._ After a few days, when we had eaten almost all our food, my last cow fell down dead (the wolves had already devoured the others, as mentioned above), not without a strong suspicion that Lizzie had a hand in it, seeing that the poor beast had eaten heartily the day before; but I leave that to a higher judge, seeing that I would not willingly calumniate any one; and it may have been the will of God, whose wrath I have well deserved. _Summa_, I was once more in great need, and my daughter Mary pierced my heart with her sighs, when the cry was raised that another troop of Imperialists was come to Uekeritze, and was marauding there more cruelly than ever, and, moreover, had burnt half the village. Wherefore I no longer thought myself safe in my cottage; and after I had commended everything to the Lord in a fervent prayer, I went up with my daughter and old Ilse into the Streckelberg, [Footnote: A considerable mountain close to the sea near Coserow.] where I already had looked out for ourselves a hole like a cavern, well grown over with brambles, against the time when the troubles should drive us thither. We therefore took with us all we had left to us for the support of our bodies, and fled into the woods, sighing and weeping, whither we soon were followed by the old men, and the women and children; these raised a great cry of hunger when they saw my daughter sitting on a log and eating a bit of bread and meat, and the little things came with their tiny hands stretched out and cried, "Have some too, have some too." Therefore being justly moved by such great distress, I hindered not my daughter from sharing all the bread and meat that remained among the hungry children. But first I made them pray--"The eyes of all wait upon Thee;" [Footnote: Ps. cxlv. 15, 16.] upon which words I then spake comfortably to the people, telling them that the Lord, who had now fed their little children, would find means to fill their own bellies, and that they must not be weary of trusting in Him. This comfort did not, however, last long; for after we had rested within and around the cavern for about two hours, the bells in the village began to ring so dolefully, that it went nigh to break all our hearts, the more as loud firing was heard between whiles; _item_, the cries of men and the barking of dogs resounded, so that we could easily guess that the enemy was in the village. I had enough to do to keep the women quiet, that they might not by their senseless lamentations betray our hiding-place to the cruel enemy; and more still when it began to smell smoky, and presently the bright flames gleamed through the trees. I therefore sent old Paasch up to the top of the hill, that he might look around and see how matters stood, but told him to take good care that they did not see him from the village, seeing that the twilight had but just begun. This he promised, and soon returned with the news that about twenty horsemen had galloped out of the village towards the Damerow, but that half the village was in flames. _Item, he told us that by a wonderful dispensation of God a great number of birds had appeared in the juniper-bushes and elsewhere, and that if we could catch them they would be excellent food for us. I therefore climbed up the hill myself, and having found everything as he had said, and also perceived that the fire had, by the help of God's mercy, abated in the village; _item_, that my cottage was left standing, far beyond my merits and deserts; I came down again and comforted the people, saying, "The Lord hath given us a sign, and He will feed us, as He fed the people of Israel in the wilderness; for He has sent us a fine flight of fieldfares across the barren sea, so that they whirr out of every bush as ye come near it. Who will now run down into the village, and cut off the mane and tail of my dead cow which lies out behind on the common?" (for there was no horsehair in all the village, seeing that the enemy had long since carried off or stabbed all the horses). But no one would go, for fear was stronger even than hunger, till my old Ilse spoke, and said, "I will go, for I fear nothing, when I walk in the ways of God; only give me a good stick." When old Paasch had lent her his staff, she began to sing, "God the Father be with us," and soon out of sight among the bushes. Meanwhile I exhorted the people to set to work directly, and to cut little wands for syringes, and to gather berries while the moon still shone; there were a great quantity of mountain-ash and elder-bushes all about the mountain. I myself and my daughter Mary stayed to guard the little children, because it was not safe there from wolves. We therefore made a blazing fire, sat ourselves around it, and heard the little folks say the Ten Commandments, when there was a rustling and crackling behind us, and my daughter jumped up and ran into the cavern, crying, "_Proh dolor hostis!_" [Our author afterwards explains the learned education of the maiden.] But it was only some of the able-bodied men who had stayed behind in the village, and who now came to bring us word how things stood there. I therefore called to her directly, "_Emergas amici_," whereupon she came skipping joyously out, and sat down again by the fire, and forthwith my warden Hinrich Seden related all that had happened, and how his life had only been saved by means of his wife Lizzie Kolken; but that Jurgen Flatow, Chim Burse, Claus Peer, and Chim Seideritz were killed, and the last named of them left lying on the church steps. The wicked incendiaries had burned down twelve sheds, and it was not their fault that the whole village was not destroyed, but only in consequence of the wind not being in the quarter that suited their purpose. Meanwhile they tolled the bells in mockery and scorn, to see whether any one would come and quench the fire; and that when he and the three other young fellows came forward they fired off their muskets at them, but, by God's help, none of them were hit. Hereupon his three comrades jumped over the paling and escaped; but him they caught, and had already taken aim at him with their firelocks, when his wife Lizzie Kolken came out of the church with another troop and beckoned to them to leave him in peace. But they stabbed Lene Hebers as she lay in childbed, speared the child, and flung it over Claus Peer's hedge among the nettles, where it was yet lying when they came away. There was not a living soul left in the village, and still less a morsel of bread, so that unless the Lord took pity on their need they must all die miserably of hunger. (Now who is to believe that such people can call themselves Christians?) I next inquired, when he had done speaking (but with many sighs, as any one may guess), after my cottage; but of that they knew naught save that it was still standing. I thanked the Lord therefore with a quiet sigh; and having asked old Seden what his wife had been doing in the church, I thought I should have died for grief when I heard that the villains came out of it with both the chalices and patens in their hands. I therefore spoke very sharply to old Lizzie, who now came slinking through the bushes; but she answered insolently, that the strange soldiers had forced her to open the church, as her goodman had crept behind the hedge, and nobody else was there; that they had gone straight up to the altar, and seeing that one of the stones was not well fitted (which, truly, was an arch lie), had begun to dig with their swords till they found the chalices and patens; or somebody else might have betrayed the spot to them, so I need not always to lay the blame on her, and rate her so hardly. Meanwhile the old men and the women came with a good store of berries; _item_, my old maid, with the cow's tail and mane, who brought word that the whole house was turned upside down, the windows all broken, and the books and writings trampled in the dirt in the midst of the street, and the doors torn off their hinges. This, however, was a less sorrow to me than the chalices; and I only bade the people make springes and snares, in order next morning to begin our fowling, with the help of Almighty God. I therefore scraped the rods myself until near midnight; and when we had made ready a good quantity, I told old Seden to repeat the evening blessing, which we all heard on our knees; after which I wound up with a prayer, and then admonished the people to creep in under the bushes to keep them from the cold (seeing that it was now about the end of September, and the wind blew very fresh from the sea), the men apart, and the women also apart by themselves. I myself went up with my daughter and my maid into the cavern, where I had not slept long before I heard old Seden moaning bitterly, because, as he said, he was seized with the colic. I therefore got up and gave him my place, and sat down again by the fire to cut springes, till I fell asleep for half-an-hour; and then morning broke, and by that time he had got better, and I woke the people to morning prayer. This time old Paasch had to say it, but could not get through with it properly, so that I had to help him. Whether he had forgot it, or whether he was frightened, I cannot say. _Summa_.--After we had all prayed most devoutly, we presently set to work, wedging the springes into the trees, and hanging berries all around them; while my daughter took care of the children, and looked for blackberries for their breakfast. Now we wedged the snares right across the wood along the road to Uekeritze; and mark what a wondrous act of mercy befell from gracious God! As I stepped into the road with the hatchet in my hand (it was Seden his hatchet, which he had fetched out of the village early in the morning), I caught sight of a loaf as long as my arm which a raven was pecking, and which doubtless one of the Imperial troopers had dropped out of his knapsack the day before, for there were fresh hoof-marks in the sand by it. So I secretly buttoned the breast of my coat over it, so that none should perceive anything, although the aforesaid Paasch was close behind me; _item_, all the rest followed at no great distance. Now, having set the springes so very early, towards noon we found such a great number of birds taken in them, that Katy Berow, who went beside me while I took them out, scarce could hold them all in her apron; and at the other end old Pagels pulled nearly as many out of his doublet and coat-pockets. My daughter then sat down with the rest of the womankind to pluck the birds; and as there was no salt (indeed it was long since most of us had tasted any), she desired two men to go down to the sea, and to fetch a little salt water in an iron pot borrowed from Staffer Zuter; and so they did. In this water we first dipped the birds, and then roasted them at a large fire, while our mouths watered only at the sweet savour of them, seeing it was so long since we had tasted any food. And now when all was ready, and the people seated on the earth, I said, "Behold how the Lord still feeds His people Israel in the wilderness with fresh quails: if now He did yet more, and sent us a piece of manna bread from heaven, what think ye? Would ye then ever weary of believing in Him, and not rather willingly endure all want, tribulation, hunger and thirst, which He may hereafter lay upon you according to His gracious will?" Whereupon they all answered and said, "Yea, surely!" _Ego_: "Will you then promise me this in truth?" And they said again, "Yea, that will we!" Then with tears I drew forth the loaf from my breast, held it on high, and cried, "Behold then, thou poor believing little flock, how sweet a manna loaf your faithful Redeemer hath sent ye through me!" Whereupon they all wept, sobbed and groaned; and the little children again came running up and held out their hands, crying, "See, bread, bread!" But as I myself could not pray for heaviness of soul, I bade Paasch his little girl say the _Gratias_ the while my Mary cut up the loaf and gave to each his share. And now we all joyfully began to eat our meat from God in the wilderness. Meanwhile I had to tell in what manner I had found the blessed manna bread, wherein I neglected not again to exhort them to lay to heart this great sign and wonder, how that God in His mercy had done to them as of old to the prophet Elijah, to whom a raven brought bread in his great need in the wilderness; as likewise this bread had been given to me by means of a raven, which showed it to me, when otherwise I might have passed it by in my heaviness without ever seeing it. When we were satisfied with food, I said the thanksgiving from Luke xii. 24, where the Lord saith, "Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?" But our sins stank before the Lord. For old Lizzie, as I afterwards heard, would not eat her birds because she thought them unsavoury, but threw them among the juniper bushes; whereupon the wrath of the Lord was kindled against us as of old against the people of Israel, and at night we found but seven birds in the snares, and next morning but two. Neither did any raven come again to give us bread. Wherefore I rebuked old Lizzie, and admonished the people to take upon themselves willingly the righteous chastisement of the Most High God, to pray without ceasing, to return to their desolate dwellings, and to see whether the all-merciful God would peradventure give them more on the sea. That I also would call upon Him with prayer night and day, remaining for a time in the cavern with my daughter and the maid to watch the springes, and see whether His wrath might be turned from us. That they should, meanwhile put my manse to rights to the best of their power, seeing that the cold was become very irksome to me. This they promised me, and departed with many sighs. What a little flock! I counted but twenty-five souls where there used to be above eighty; all the rest had been slain by hunger, pestilence, or the sword. [Footnote: This took place in the year 1628, and the horrors of the Thirty Years' War were spread most fearfully over this island; pity that the description of the old vicar, which he doubtless gave in the preceding pages, has been lost.] I then abode awhile alone and sorrowing in the cave, praying to God, and sent my daughter with the maid into the village to see how things stood at the manse; _item_, to gather together the books and papers, and also to bring me word whether Hinze the carpenter, whom I had straightway sent back to the village, had knocked together some coffins for the poor corpses, so that I might bury them next day. I then went to look at the springes, but found only one single little bird, whereby I saw that the wrath of God had not yet passed away. Howbeit, I found a fine blackberry bush, from which I gathered nearly a pint of berries, and put them, together with the bird, in Staffer Zuter his pot, which the honest fellow had left with us for a while, and set them on the fire for supper against my child and the maid should return. It was not long before they came through the coppice, and told me of the fearful devastation which Satan had made in the village and manse by the permission of all-righteous God. My child had gathered together a few books, which she brought with her, above all, a _Virgilius_ and a Greek Bible. And after she had told me that the carpenter would not have done till next day, and we had satisfied the cravings of hunger, I made her read to me again, for the greater strengthening of my faith, the _locus_ about the blessed raven from the Greek of Luke, at the twelfth chapter; also, the beautiful _locus parallelus_, Matt. vi. After which the maid said the evening blessing, and we all went into the cave to rest for the night. When I awoke next morning, just as the blessed sun rose out the sea and peeped over the mountain, I heard my poor hungry child, already standing outside the cave, reciting the beautiful verses about the joys of paradise which St. Augustine wrote and I had taught her. [Footnote: This is an error. The following verses are written by the Cardinal Bishop of Ostia, Peter Damianus (d. 23d Feb. 1072), after Augustine's prose.] She sobbed for grief as she spoke the words:-- "Uno pane vivunt cives utriusque patriæ Avidi et semper pleni, quod habent desiderant Non _sacietas_ fastidit, neque fames cruciat Inhiantes semper edunt, et edentes inhiant Flos perpetuus rosarum ver agit perpetuum, Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum, Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt Pigmentorum spirat odor liquor et aromatum, Pendent poma floridorum non lapsura nemorum Non alternat luna vices, sol vel cursus syderum Agnus est fcelicis urbis lumen inocciduum." [Footnote: The following version is from the pen of a friend.--_Trans_. "In that far land the citizens all share one equal bread, And keep desire and hunger still, although to fulness fed: Unwearied by satiety, unracked by hunger's strife, The air they breathe is nourishment, and spiritual life! Around them, bright with endless Spring, perpetual roses bloom; Warm balsams gratefully exude luxurious perfume; Red crocuses, and lilies white, shine dazzling in the sun; Green meadows yield them harvests green, and streams with honey run; Unbroken droop the laden boughs, with heavy fruitage bent, Of incense and of odours strange the air is redolent; And neither sun, nor moon, nor stars, dispense their changeful light, But the Lamb's eternal glory makes the happy city bright!" At these words my own heart was melted; and when she ceased from speaking, I asked, "What art thou doing, my child?" Whereupon she answered, "Father, I am eating." Thereat my tears now indeed began to flow, and I praised her for feeding her soul, as she had no meat for her body. I had not, however, spoken long, before she cried to me to come and look at the great wonder that had risen out of the sea, and already appeared over the cave. For behold a cloud, in shape just like a cross, came over us, and let great heavy drops, as big or bigger than large peas, fall on our heads, after which it sank behind the coppice. I presently arose, and ran up the mountain with my daughter to look after it. It floated on towards the Achterwater, [Footnote: A wash formed by the river Peene in the neighbourhood.] where it spread itself out into a long blue streak, whereon the sun shone so brightly that it seemed like a golden bridge, on which, as my child said, the blessed angels danced. I fell on my knees with her, and thanked the Lord that our cross had passed away from us; but, alas! our cross was yet to come, as will be told hereafter. CHAPTER VIII. _How our need waxed sorer and sorer, and how I sent old Ilse with another letter to Pudgla, and how heavy a misfortune this brought upon me_. Next day, when I had buried the poor corpses amid the lamentations of the whole village (by the same token that they were all buried under where the lime-tree overhangs the wall [Footnote: This exists no longer.]), I heard with many sighs that neither the sea nor the Achterwater would yield anything. It was now ten days since the poor people had caught a single fish. I therefore went out into the field, musing how the wrath of the just God might be turned from us, seeing that the cruel winter was now at hand, and neither corn, apples, fish nor flesh, to be found in the village, nor even throughout all the parish. There was indeed plenty of game in the forests of Coserow and Uekeritze; but the old forest ranger, Zabel Nehring, had died last year of the plague, and there was no new one in his place. Nor was there a musket nor a grain of powder to be found in all the parish; the enemy had robbed and broken everything: we were therefore forced, day after day, to see how the stags and the roes, the hares and the wild boars, &c., ran past us, when we would so gladly have had them in our bellies, but had no means of getting at them: for they were too cunning to let themselves be caught in pit-falls. Nevertheless, Claus Peer succeeded in trapping a roe, and gave me a piece of it, for which may God reward him. _Item_, of domestic cattle there was not a head left; neither was there a dog nor a cat, which the people had not either eaten in their extreme hunger, or knocked on the head, or drowned long since. Albeit old farmer Paasch still owned two cows; _item_, an old man in Uekeritze was said to have one little pig--this was all. Thus, then, nearly all the people lived on blackberries and other wild fruits; the which also soon grew to be scarce, as may easily be guessed. Besides all this, a boy of fourteen was missing (old Labahn his son), and was never more heard of, so that I shrewdly think that the wolves devoured him. And now let any Christian judge by his own heart in what sorrow and heaviness I took my staff in my hand, seeing that my child fell away like a shadow from pinching hunger; although I myself, being old, did not, by the help of God's mercy, find any great failing in my strength. While I thus went continually weeping before the Lord, on the way to Uekeritze, I fell in with an old beggar with his wallet, sitting on a stone, and eating a piece of God's rare gift, to wit, a bit of bread. Then truly did my poor mouth so fill with water, that I was forced to bow my head and let it run upon the earth before I could ask, "Who art thou? and whence comest thou, seeing that thou hast bread?" Whereupon he answered that he was a poor man of Bannemin, from whom the enemy had taken all; and as he had heard that the Lieper Winkel [Footnote: A remote part of the island of Usedom.] had long been in peace, he had travelled thither to beg. I straightway answered him, "Oh, poor beggar man, spare to me, a sorrowful servant of Christ, who is poorer even than thyself, one little slice of bread for his wretched child; for thou must know that I am the pastor of this village, and that my daughter is dying of hunger. I beseech thee, by the living God, not to let me depart without taking pity on me, as pity also hath been shown to thee!" But the beggar man would give me none, saying that he himself had a wife and four children, who were likewise staggering towards death's door under the bitter pangs of hunger; that the famine was sorer far in Bannemin than here, where we still had berries; whether I had not heard that but a few days ago a woman (he told me her name, but horror made me forget it) had there killed her own child, and devoured it from hunger? [Footnote: Micraslius also mentions this horrible event in his History of Pomerania.] That he could not therefore help me, and I might go to the Lieper Winkel myself. I was horror-stricken at his tale, as is easy to guess, for we in our own trouble had not yet heard of it, there being little or no traffic between one village and another; and thinking on Jerusalem, [Footnote: Where, according to Josephus, the same thing occurred.] and sheer despairing because the Lord had visited us, as of old that ungodly city, although we had not betrayed or crucified Him, I almost forgot all my necessities, and took my staff in my hand to depart. But I had not gone more than a few yards when the beggar called me to stop, and when I turned myself round he came towards me with a good hunch of bread which he had taken out of his wallet, and said, "There! but pray for me also, so that I may reach my home; for if on the road they smell that I have bread, my own brother would strike me dead, I believe." This I promised with joy, and instantly turned back to take to my child the gift hidden in my pocket. And behold, when I came to the road which leads to Loddin, I could scarce trust my eyes (before I had overlooked it in my distress) when I saw my glebe, which could produce seven bushels, ploughed, sown, and in stalk; the blessed crop of rye had already shot lustily out of the earth a finger's length in height. I could not choose but think that the evil one had deceived me with a false show, yet, however hard I rubbed my eyes, rye it was, and rye it remained. And seeing that old Paasch his piece of land which joined mine was in like manner sown, and that the blades had shot up to the same height, I soon guessed that the good fellow had done this deed, seeing that all the other land lay waste. Wherefore, I readily forgave him for not knowing the morning prayer; and thanking the Lord for so much love from my flock, and earnestly beseeching Him to grant me strength and faith to bear with them, steadfastly and patiently, all the troubles and adversities which it might please Him henceforward to lay upon us, according to His divine pleasure, I ran rather than walked back into the village to old Paasch his farm, where I found him just about to kill his cow, which he was slaughtering from grim hunger. "God bless thee," said I, "worthy friend, for sowing my field, how shall I reward thee?" But the old man answered, "Let that be, and do you pray for us;" and when I gladly promised this, and asked him how he had kept his corn safe from the savage enemy, he told me that he had hidden it secretly in the caves of the Streckelberg, but that now all his store was used up. Meanwhile he cut a fine large piece of meat from the top of the loin, and said, "There is something for you, and when that is gone you can come again for more." As I was then about to go with many thanks, his little Mary, a child nearly seven years old, the same who had said the _Gratlas_ on the Streckelberg, seized me by the hand, and wanted to go to school to my daughter; for since my _Custos_, as above mentioned, departed this life in the plague, she had to teach the few little ones there were in the village; this, however, had long been abandoned. I could not, therefore, deny her, although I feared that my child would share her bread with her, seeing that she dearly loved the little maid, who was her godchild; and so indeed it happened; for when the child saw me take out the bread, she shrieked for joy, and began to scramble up on the bench. Thus she also got a piece of the slice, our maid got another, and my child put the third piece into her own mouth, as I wished for none, but said that I felt no signs of hunger, and would wait until the meat was boiled, the which I now threw upon the bench. It was a goodly sight to see the joy which my poor child felt, when I then also told her about the rye. She fell upon my neck, wept, sobbed, then took the little one up in her arms, danced about the room with her, and recited, as she was wont, all manner of Latin _versus_, which she knew by heart. Then she would prepare a right good supper for us, as a little salt was still left in the bottom of a barrel of meat which the Imperialists had broken up. I let her take her own way, and having scraped some soot from the chimney and mixed it with water, I tore a blank leaf out of _Virgillus_, and wrote to the _Pastor Liepensts_, his reverence Abraham Tiburtius, praying that for God His sake he would take our necessities to heart, and would exhort his parishioners to save us from dying of grim hunger, and charitably to spare to us some meat and drink, according as the all-merciful God had still left some to them, seeing that a beggar had told me that they had long been in peace from the terrible enemy. I knew not, however, wherewithal to seal the letter, until I found in the church a little wax still sticking to a wooden altar-candlestick, which the Imperialists had not thought it worth their while to steal, for they had only taken the brass ones. I sent three fellows in a boat with Hinrich Seden, the churchwarden, with this letter to Liepe. First, however, I asked my old Ilse, who was born in Liepe, whether she would not rather return home, seeing how matters stood, and that I, for the present at least, could not give her a stiver of her wages (mark that she had already saved up a small sum, seeing that she had lived in my service above twenty years, but the soldiers had taken it all). Howbeit, I could nowise persuade her to this, but she wept bitterly, and besought me only to let her stay with the good damsel whom she had rocked in her cradle. She would cheerfully hunger with us if it needs must be, so that she were not turned away. Whereupon, I yielded to her, and the others went alone. Meanwhile the broth was ready, but scarce had we said the _Gratias_, and were about to begin our meal, when all the children of the village, seven in number, came to the door, and wanted bread, as they had heard we had some from my daughter her little godchild. Her heart again melted, and notwithstanding I besought her to harden herself against them, she comforted me with the message to Liepe, and poured out for each child a portion of broth on a wooden platter (for these also had been despised by the enemy), and put into their little hands a bit of meat, so that all our store was eaten up at once. We were, therefore, left fasting next morning, till towards midday, when the whole village gathered together in a meadow on the banks of the river to see the boat return. But, God be merciful to us, we had cherished vain hopes! six loaves and a sheep, _item_, a quarter of apples, was all they had brought. His reverence Abraham Tiburtius wrote to me that after the cry of their wealth had spread throughout the island, so many beggars had flocked thither that it was impossible to be just to all, seeing that they themselves did not know how it might fare with them in these heavy troublous times. Meanwhile he would see whether he could raise any more. I therefore with many sighs had the small pittance carried to the manse, and though two loaves were, as _Pastor Liepensis_ said in his letter, for me alone, I gave them up to be shared among all alike, whereat all were content save Seden his squint-eyed wife, who would have had somewhat extra on the score of her husband's journey, which, however, as may be easily guessed, she did not get; wherefore she again muttered certain words between her teeth as she went away, which, however, no one understood. Truly she was an ill woman, and not to be moved by the Word of God. Any one may judge for himself that such a store could not last long; and as all my parishioners felt an ardent longing after spiritual food, and as I and the churchwardens could only get together about sixteen farthings in the whole parish, which was not enough to buy bread and wine, the thought struck me once more to inform my lord the sheriff of our need. With how heavy a heart I did this may be easily guessed, but necessity knows no law. I therefore tore the last blank leaf out of _Virgilius_, and begged that, for the sake of the Holy Trinity, his lordship would mercifully consider mine own distress and that of the whole parish, and bestow a little money to enable me to administer the Holy Sacrament for the comfort of afflicted souls; also, if possible, to buy a cup, were it only of tin, since the enemy had plundered us of ours, and I should otherwise be forced to consecrate the sacred elements in an earthen vessel. _Item_, I besought him to have pity on our bodily wants, and at last to send me the first-fruits which had stood over for so many years. That I did not want it for myself alone, but would willingly share it with my parishioners, until such time as God in His mercy should give us more. Here a huge blot fell upon my paper; for the windows being boarded up, the room was dark, and but little light came through two small panes of glass, which I had broken out of the church, and stuck in between the boards: this, perhaps, was the reason why I did not see better. However, as I could not anywhere get another piece of paper, I let it pass, and ordered the maid, whom I sent with the letter to Pudgla, to excuse the same to his lordship the sheriff, the which she promised to do; seeing that I could not add a word more on the paper, as it was written all over. I then sealed it as I had done before. But the poor creature came back trembling for fear, and bitterly weeping, and said that his lordship had kicked her out of the castle-gate, and had threatened to set her in the stocks if she ever came before him again. "Did the parson think that he was as free with his money as I seemed to be with my ink? I surely had water enough to celebrate the Lord's Supper wherewithal. For if the Son of God had once changed the water into wine, He could surely do the like again. If I had no cup, I might water my flock out of a bucket, as he did himself;" with many more blasphemies, such as he afterwards wrote to me, and by which, as may easily be guessed, I was filled with horror. Touching the first-fruits, as she told me, he said nothing at all. In such great spiritual and bodily need the blessed Sunday came round, when nearly all the congregation would have come to the Lord's table, but could not. I therefore spoke on the words of St. Augustine, _crede et manducasti_, and represented that the blame was not mine, and truly told what had happened to my poor maid at Pudgla, passing over much in silence, and only praying God to awaken the hearts of magistrates for our good. Peradventure I may have spoken more harshly than I meant. I know not; only that I spoke that which was in my heart. At the end I made all the congregation stay on their knees for nearly an hour, and call upon the Lord for His holy Sacrament; _item_, for the relief of their bodily wants, as had been done every Sunday, and at all the daily prayers I had been used to read ever since the heavy time of the plague. Last of all, I led the glorious hymn, "When in greatest need we be," which was no sooner finished than my new churchwarden, Claus Bulk of Uekeritze, who had formerly been a groom with his lordship, and whom he had now put into a farm, ran off to Pudgla, and told him all that had taken place in the church. Whereat his lordship was greatly angered, insomuch that he summoned the whole parish, which still numbered about 150 souls, without counting the children, and dictated _ad protocollum_ whatsoever they could remember of the sermon, seeing that he meant to inform his princely Grace the Duke of Pomerania of the blasphemous lies which I had vomited against him, and which must sorely offend every Christian heart. _Item_, what an avaricious wretch I must be to be always wanting something of him, and to be daily, so to say, pestering him in these hard times with my filthy letters, when he had not enough to eat himself. This, he said, should break the parson his neck, since his princely Grace did all that he asked of him; and that no one in the parish need give me anything more, but only let me go my ways. He would soon take care that they should have quite a different sort of parson from what I was. (Now I would like to see the man who could make up his mind to come into the midst of such wretchedness at all.) This news was brought to me in the self-same night, and gave me a great fright, as I now saw that I should not have a gracious master in his lordship, but should all the time of my miserable life, even if I could anyhow support it, find in him an ungracious lord. But I soon felt some comfort, when Chim Krüger, from Uekeritze, who brought me the news, took a little bit of his sucking-pig out of his pocket and gave it to me. Meanwhile old Paasch came in and said the same, and likewise brought me a piece of his old cow; _item_, my other warden, Hinrich Seden, with a slice of bread, and a fish which he had taken in his net; all saying they wished for no better priest than me, and that I was only to pray to the merciful Lord to bestow more upon them, whereupon I should want for nothing. Meanwhile I must be quiet, and not betray them. All this I promised; and my daughter Mary took the blessed gifts of God off the table and carried them into the inner chamber. But, alas! next morning, when she would have put the meat into the cauldron, it was all gone. I know not who prepared this new sorrow for me, but much believe it was Hinrich Seden his wicked wife, seeing he can never hold his tongue, and most likely told her everything. Moreover, Paasch his little daughter saw that she had meat in her pot next day; _item_, that she had quarrelled with her husband, and had flung the fish-board at him, whereon some fresh fish-scales were sticking: she had, however, presently recollected herself when she saw the child. (Shame on thee, thou old witch, it is true enough, I dare say!) Hereupon naught was left us but to feed our poor souls with the Word of God. But even our souls were so cast down that they could receive naught, any more than our bellies; my poor child, especially, from day to day grew paler, greyer, and yellower, and always threw up all her food, seeing she ate it without salt or bread. I had long wondered that the bread from Liepe was not yet done, but that every day at dinner I still had a morsel. I had often asked, "Whence comes all this blessed bread? I believe, after all, you save the whole for me, and take none for yourself or the maid." But they both then lifted to their mouths a piece of fir-tree bark, which they had cut to look like bread, and laid by their plates; and as the room was dark, I did not find out their deceit, but thought that they too were eating bread. But at last the maid told me of it, so that I should allow it no longer, as my daughter would not listen to her. It is not hard to guess how my heart was wrung when I saw my poor child lying on her bed of moss struggling with grim hunger. But things were to go yet harder with me, for the Lord in His anger would break me in pieces like a potter's vessel. For behold, on the evening of the same day, old Paasch came running to me, complaining that all his and my corn in the field had been pulled up and miserably destroyed, and that it must have been done by Satan himself, as there was not a trace either of oxen or horses. At these words my poor child screamed aloud and fainted. I would have run to help her, but could not reach her bed, and fell on the ground myself for bitter grief. The loud cries of the maid and old Paasch soon brought us both to our senses. But I could not rise from the ground alone, for the Lord had bruised all my bones. I besought them, therefore, when they would have helped me, to leave me where I was; and when they would not, I cried out that I must again fall on the ground to pray, and begged them all save my daughter to depart out of the room. This they did, but the prayer would not come. I fell into heavy doubting and despair, and murmured against the Lord that He plagued me more sorely than Lazarus or Job. Wretch that I was, I cried, "Thou didst leave to Lazarus at least the crumbs and the pitiful dogs, but to me Thou hast left nothing, and I myself am less in Thy sight even than a dog; and Job Thou didst not afflict until Thou hadst mercifully taken away his children, but to me Thou hast left my poor little daughter, that her torments may increase mine own a thousandfold. Behold, then, I can only pray that Thou wilt take her from the earth, so that my grey head may gladly follow her to the grave! Woe is me, ruthless father, what have I done? I have eaten bread, and suffered my child to hunger! O Lord Jesu, who hast said, 'What man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread will he give him a stone?' Behold, I am that man!--behold, I am that ruthless father! I have eaten bread, and have given wood to my child! Punish me; I will bear it and lie still. O righteous Jesu, I have eaten bread, and have given wood to my child!" As I did not speak, but rather shrieked these words, wringing my hands the while, my child fell upon my neck, sobbing, and chide me for murmuring against the Lord, seeing that even she, a weak and frail woman, had never doubted His mercy; so that with shame and repentance I presently came to myself, and humbled myself before the Lord for such heavy sin. Meanwhile the maid had run into the village with loud cries to see if she could get anything for her poor young mistress, but the people had already eaten their noontide meal, and most of them were gone to sea to seek their blessed supper; thus she could find nothing, seeing that old wife Seden, who alone had any victuals, would give her none, although she prayed her by Jesu's wounds. She was telling us this when we heard a noise in the chamber, and presently Lizzie her worthy old husband, who had got in at the window by stealth, brought us a pot of good broth, which he had taken off the fire whilst his wife was gone for a moment into the garden. He well knew that his wife would make him pay for it, but that he did not mind, so the young mistress would but drink it, and she would find it salted and all. He would make haste out of the window again, and see that he got home before his wife, that she might not find out where he had been. But my daughter would not touch the broth, which sorely vexed him, so that he set it down on the ground cursing, and ran out of the room. It was not long before his squint-eyed wife came in at the front door, and when she saw the pot still steaming on the ground, she cried out, "Thou thief, thou cursed thieving carcass!" and would have flown at the face of my maid. But I threatened her, and told her all that had happened, and that if she would not believe me, she might go into the chamber and look out of the window, whence she might still, belike, see her goodman running home. This she did, and presently we heard her calling after him, "Wait, and the devil shall tear off thine arms, only wait till thou art home again!" After this she came back, and, muttering something, took the pot off the ground. I begged her, for the love of God, to spare a little to my child; but she mocked at me and said, "You can preach to her, as you did to me," and walked towards the door with the pot. My child indeed besought me to let her go, but I could not help calling after her, "For the love of God, one good sup, or my poor child must give up the ghost: wilt thou that at the day of judgment God should have mercy on thee, so show mercy this day to me and mine!" But she scoffed at us again, and cried out, "Let her cook herself some bacon," and went out at the door. I then sent the maid after her with the hour-glass which stood before me on the table, to offer it to her for a good sup out of the pot; but the maid brought it back, saying that she would not have it. Alas, how I wept and sobbed, as my poor dying child with a loud sigh buried her head again in the moss! Yet the merciful God was more gracious to me than my unbelief had deserved; for when the hard-hearted woman bestowed a little broth on her neighbour, old Paasch, he presently brought it to my child, having heard from the maid how it stood with her; and I believe that this broth, under God, alone saved her life, for she raised her head as soon as she had supped it, and was able to go about the house again in an hour. May God reward the good fellow for it! Thus I had some joy in the midst of my trouble. But while I sat by the fireside in the evening musing on my fate, my grief again broke forth, and I made up my mind to leave my house, and even my cure, and to wander through the wide world with my daughter as a beggar. God knows I had cause enough for it; for now that all my hopes were dashed, seeing that my field was quite ruined, and that the sheriff had become my bitter enemy, moreover that it was five years since I had had a wedding, _item_, but two christenings during the past year, I saw my own and my daughter's death staring me in the face, and no prospect of better times at hand. Our want was increased by the great fears of the congregation; for although by God's wondrous mercy they had already begun to take good draughts of fish both in the sea and the Achterwater, and many of the people in the other villages had already gotten bread, salt, oatmeal, &c., from the Pokers and Quatzners of Anklam and Lassan [Footnote: These people still go about the Achterwater every day in small boats called Polten and Quatzen, and buy from the boors any fish they may have caught.] in exchange for their fish; nevertheless, they brought me nothing, fearing lest it might be told at Pudgla, and make his lordship ungracious to them. I therefore beckoned my daughter to me, and told her what was in my thoughts, saying that God, in His mercy, could any day bestow on me another cure if I was found worthy in His sight of such a favour, seeing that these terrible days of pestilence and war had called away many of the servants of His Word, and that I had not fled like a hireling from His flock, but, on the contrary, till _datum_ shared sorrow and death with it. Whether she were able to walk five or ten miles a day; for that then we would beg our way to Hamburg, to my departed wife her stepbrother, Martin Behring, who is a great merchant in that city. This at first sounded strange to her, seeing that she had very seldom been out of our parish, and that her departed mother and her little brother lay in our churchyard. She asked, "Who was to make up their graves and plant flowers on them? _Item_, as the Lord had given her a smooth face, what I should do if in these wild and cruel times she were attacked on the highways by marauding soldiers or other villains, seeing that I was a weak old man and unable to defend her; _item_, wherewithal should we shield ourselves from the frost, as the winter was setting in, and the enemy had robbed us of our clothes, so that we had scarce enough left to cover our nakedness?" All this I had not considered, and was forced to own that she was right; so after much discussion we determined to leave it this night to the Lord, and to do whatever He should put into our hearts next morning. At any rate, we saw that we could in nowise keep the old maid any longer; I therefore called her out of the kitchen, and told her she had better go early next morning to Liepe, as there still was food there, whereas here she must starve, seeing that perhaps we ourselves might leave the parish and the country to-morrow. I thanked her for the love and faith she had shown us, and begged her at last, amid the loud sobs of my poor daughter, to depart forthwith privately, and not to make our hearts still heavier by leave-taking; that old Paasch was going a-fishing to-night on the Achterwater, as he had told me, and no doubt would readily set her on shore at Grussow, where she had friends, and could eat her fill even to-day. She could not say a word for weeping, but when she saw that I was really in earnest she went out of the room. Not long after we heard the house-door shut to, whereupon my daughter moaned, "She is gone already," and ran straight to the window to look after her. "Yes," cried, she, as she saw her through the little panes, "she is really gone;" and she wrung her hands and would not be comforted. At last, however, she was quieted when I spoke of the maid Hagar, whom Abraham had likewise cast off, but on whom the Lord had nevertheless shown mercy in the wilderness; and hereupon we commended ourselves to the Lord, and stretched ourselves on our couches of moss. CHAPTER IX. _How the old maid-servant humbled me by her faith, and the Lord yet blessed me His unworthy servant_. "Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless His holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits. Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving-kindness and tender mercies" (Ps. ciii.). Alas! wretched man that I am, how shall I understand all the benefits and mercies which the Lord bestowed upon me the very next day? I now wept for joy as of late I had done for sorrow; and my child danced about the room like a young roe, and would not go to bed, but only cry and dance, and between whiles repeat the 103rd Psalm, then dance and cry again until morning broke. But as she was still very weak, I rebuked her presumption, seeing that this was tempting the Lord; and now mark what had happened. After we had both woke in the morning with deep sighs, and called upon the Lord to manifest to us, in our hearts, what we should do, we still could not make up our minds. I therefore called to my child, if she felt strong enough, to leave her bed and light a fire in the stove herself, as our maid was gone; that we would then consider the matter further. She accordingly got up, but came back in an instant with cries of joy, because the maid had privately stolen back into the house, and had already made a fire. Hereupon I sent for her to my bedside, and wondered at her disobedience, and asked what she now wanted here, but to torment me and my daughter still more, and why she did not go yesterday with old Paasch? But she lamented and wept so sore that she scarce could speak, and I understood only thus much: that she had eaten with us, and would likewise starve with us, for that she could never part from her young mistress, whom she had known from her cradle. Such faithful love moved me so, that I said almost with tears, "But hast thou not heard that my daughter and I have determined to wander as beggars about the country; where, then, wilt thou remain?" To this she answered that neither would she stay behind, seeing it was more fitting for her to beg than for us; but that she could not yet see why I wished to go out into the wide world; whether I had already forgotten that I had said, in my induction sermon, that I would abide with my flock in affliction and in death? That I should stay yet a little longer where I was, and send her to Liepe, as she hoped to get something worth having for us there, from her friends and others. These words, especially those about my induction sermon, fell heavy on my conscience, and I was ashamed of my want of faith, since, not my daughter only, but yet more, even my maid, had stronger faith than I, who, nevertheless, professed to be a servant of God's Word. I believed that the Lord, to keep me, poor fearful hireling, and at the same time to humble me, had awakened the spirit of this poor maid-servant to prove me, as the maid in the palace of the high-priest had also proved the fearful St. Peter. Wherefore I turned my face towards the wall, like Hezekiah, and humbled myself before the Lord; which scarce had I done before my child ran into the room again with a cry of joy. For behold some Christian heart had stolen quietly into the house in the night, and had laid in the chamber two loaves, a good piece of meat, a bag of oatmeal, _item_, a bag of salt, holding near a pint. Any one may guess what shouts of joy we all raised. Neither was I ashamed to confess my sins before my maid; and in our common morning prayer, which we said on our knees, I made fresh vows to the Lord of obedience and faith. Thus we had that morning a grand breakfast, and sent something to old Paasch besides; _item_, my daughter again sent for all the little children to come, and kindly fed them with our store, before they said their tasks; and when in my heart of little faith I sighed thereat, although I said naught, she smiled, and said, "Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." [Footnote: Matt. vi. 34.] The Holy Ghost spoke by her, as I cannot but believe, nor thou either, beloved reader: for, mark what happened. In the afternoon, she (I mean my child) went up the Streckelberg to seek for blackberries, as old Paasch had told her through the maid that a few bushes were still left. The maid was chopping wood in the yard, to which end she had borrowed old Paasch his axe, for the Imperialist thieves had thrown away mine, so that it could nowhere be found; and I myself was pacing up and down in the room, meditating my sermon; when my child, with her apron full, came quickly in at the door, quite red and with beaming eyes, and scarce able for joy to say more than "Father, father, what have I got?" "Well," quoth I, "what hast thou got, my child?" Whereupon she opened her apron, and I scarce trusted my eyes when I saw, instead of the blackberries which she had gone to seek, two shining pieces of amber, each nearly as big as a man's head, not to mention the small pieces, some of which were as large as my hand, and that, God knows, is no small one. "Child of my heart," cried I, "how cam'st thou by this blessing from God?" As soon as she could fetch her breath, she told me as follows: That while she was seeking for blackberries in a dell near the shore, she saw somewhat glistening in the sun, and on coming near, she found this wondrous godsend, seeing that the wind had blown the sand away from off a black vein of amber. [Footnote: This happens frequently even now, and has occurred to the editor himself. The small dark vein held indeed a few pieces of amber, mixed with charcoal, a sure proof of its vegetable origin, of which we may observe in passing there is now scarce any doubt, since whole trees of amber have been found in Prussia, and are preserved in the museum at Konigsberg.] That she straightway had broken off these pieces with a stick, and that there was plenty more to be got, seeing that it rattled about under the stick when she thrust it into the sand, neither could she force it farther than, at most, a foot deep into the ground; _item_, she told me that she had covered the place all over again with sand, and swept it smooth with her apron so as to leave no traces. Moreover, that no stranger was at all likely to go thither, seeing that no blackberries grew very near, and she had gone to the spot, moved by curiosity and a wish to look upon the sea, rather than from any need; but that she could easily find the place again herself, inasmuch as she had marked it with three little stones. What was our first act after the all-merciful God had rescued us out of such misery, nay, even as it seemed, endowed us with great riches, any one may guess. When we at length got up off our knees my child would straightway have run to tell the maid our joyful news. But I forbade her, seeing that we could not be sure that the maid might not tell it again to her friends, albeit in all other things she was a faithful woman, and feared God; but that if she did that, the sheriff would be sure to hear of it, and to seize upon our treasure for his princely Highness the Duke, that is to say, for himself; and that naught would be left to us but the sight thereof, and our want would begin all over again; that we therefore would say, when folks asked about the luck that had befallen us, that my deceased brother, who was a councillor at Rotterdam, had left us a good lump of money; and indeed it was true that I had inherited near 200 florins from him a year ago, which, however, the soldiery (as mentioned above) cruelly robbed me of; _item_, that I would go to Wolgast myself next day, and sell the little bits as best I might, saying that thou hadst picked them up by the seaside; thou mayst tell the maid the same if thou wilt, but show the larger pieces to no one, and I will send them to thy uncle at Hamburg, to be turned into money for us; perchance I may be able to sell one of them at Wolgast, if I find occasion, so as to buy clothes enough for the winter, for thee and for me, wherefore thou too mayst go with me. We will take the few farthings which the congregation have brought together to pay the ferry, and thou canst order the maid to wait for us till eventide at the water-side to carry home the victuals. She agreed to all this, but said we had better first break off some more amber, so that we might get a good round sum for it at Hamburg; and I thought so too, wherefore we stopped at home next day, seeing that we did not want for food, and that my child, as well as myself, both wished to refresh ourselves a little before we set out on our journey; _item_, we likewise bethought us that old Master Rothoog, of Loddin, who is a cabinet-maker, might knock together a little box for us, to put the amber in, wherefore I sent the maid to him in the afternoon. Meanwhile we ourselves went up the Streckelberg, where I cut a young fir-tree with my pocket knife, which I had saved from the enemy, and shaped it like a spade, so that I might be better able to dig deep therewith. First, however, we looked about us well on the mountain, and seeing nobody, my daughter walked on to the place, which she straightway found again. Great God! what a mass of amber, was there! The vein was hard upon twenty feet long, as near as I could feel, and the depth of it I could not sound. Nevertheless, save four good-sized pieces, none, however, so big as those of yesterday, we this day only broke out little splinters, such as the apothecaries bruise for incense. After we had most carefully covered and smoothed over the place, a great mishap was very near befalling us; for we met Witthan her little girl, who was seeking blackberries, and she asked what my daughter carried in her apron, who straightway grew red, and stammered so that our secret would have been betrayed if I had not presently said, "What is that to thee? she has got fir-apples, for firing," which the child believed. Wherefore we resolved in future only to go up the mountain at night by moonlight, and we went home and got there before the maid, and hid our treasure in the bedstead, so that she should not see it. CHAPTER X. _How we journeyed to Wolgast, and made good barter there._ Two days after, so says my daughter, but old Ilse thinks it was three (and I myself know not which is true), we at last went to the town, seeing that Master Rothoog had not got the box ready before. My daughter covered it over with a piece of my departed wife her wedding gown, which the Imperialists had indeed torn to pieces, but as they had left it lying outside, the wind had blown it into the orchard, where we found it. It was very shabby before, otherwise I doubt not they would have carried it off with them. On account of the box we took old Ilse with us, who had to carry it, and as amber is very light ware, she readily believed that the box held nothing but eatables. At daybreak, then, we took our staves in our hands, and set out with God. Near Zitze, [Footnote: A village half way between Coserow and Wolgast, now called Zinnowitz.] a hare ran across the road before us, which they say bodes no good. Well-a-day!--When we came near Bannemin I asked a fellow if it was true that here a mother had slaughtered her own child, from hunger, as I had heard. He said it was, and that the old woman's name was Zisse; but that God had been wroth at such a horrid deed, and she had got no good by it, seeing that she vomited so much upon eating it that she forthwith gave up the ghost. On the whole, he thought things were already going rather better with the parish, as Almighty God had richly blessed them with fish, both out of the sea and the Achterwater. Nevertheless a great number of people had died of hunger here also. He told us that their vicar, his reverence Johannes Lampius, [Footnote: The present parish archives contain several short and incomplete notices of his sufferings during these dreadful wars.] had had his house burnt down by the Imperialists, and was lying in a hovel near the church. I sent him my greeting, desiring that he would soon come to visit me (which the fellow promised he would take care to deliver to him), for the reverend Johannes is a pious and learned man, and has also composed sundry Latin _Chronosticha_ on these wretched times, in _metrum heroicum_, which, I must say, pleased me greatly. [Footnote: The old vicar has introduced them among the still existing parochial accounts, and we will here give a specimen of them:-- For 1620. VsqVe qVo Do MIne IrasCerls, sIs nobIs pater! For 1628. InqVe tVa DeXtra fer operaM tV ChrIste benIgne!] When we had crossed the ferry we went in at Sehms his house, on the castle green, who keeps an ale-house; he told us that the pestilence had not yet altogether ceased in the town; whereat I was much afraid, more especially as he described to us so many other horrors and miseries of these fearful times, both here and in other places, _e.g._, of the great famine in the island of Rügen, where a number of people had grown as black as Moors from hunger; a wondrous thing if it be true, and one might almost gather therefrom how the first blackamoors came about. [Footnote: Micrælius also, in his "Ancient Pomerania" (vol. Ixxi. 2), mentions this circumstance, but only says:--"Those who came over to Stralsund were quite black from the hunger they had suffered." This accounts for the strange exaggeration of mine host, and the still stranger conclusion of our author.] But be that as it may. _Summa_. When Master Sehms had told us all the news he had heard, and we had thus learnt to our great comfort that the Lord had not visited us only in these times of heavy need, I called him aside into a chamber and asked him whether I could not here find means to get money for a piece of amber, which my daughter had found by the sea. At first he said "No;" but then recollecting, he began, "Stay, let me see, at Nicolas Graeke's, the inn at the castle, there are two great Dutch merchants, Dieterich von Pehnen and Jacob Kiekebusch, who are come to buy pitch and boards, _item_, timber for ships and beams; perchance they may like to cheapen your amber too; but you had better go up to the castle yourself, for I do not know for certain whether they still are there." This I did, although I had not yet eaten anything in the man's house, seeing that I wanted to know first what sort of bargain I might make, and to save the farthings belonging to the church until then. So I went into the castle yard. Gracious God! what a desert had even his princely Highness' house become within a short time! The Danes had ruined the stables and hunting-lodge, anno 1628; _item_, destroyed several rooms in the castle; and in the _locamentum_ of his princely Highness Duke Philippus, where, anno 22, he so graciously entertained me and my child, as will be told further on, now dwelt the innkeeper Nicolas Graeke; and all the fair tapestries, whereon was represented the pilgrimage to Jerusalem of his princely Highness Bogislaus X., were torn down, and the walls left grey and bare. [Footnote: Compare Heller's "Chronicle of the Town of Wolgast," p. 42, &c. The riots were caused by the successor of Philippus Julius (d. 6th Feb. 1625), who was also the last Duke of Pomerania, Bogislaus XIV., choosing to reside in Stettin. At the present time the castle is a mere ruin, and only several large vaulted cellars remain, wherein some of the tradesmen of the present day keep their shops.] At this sight my heart was sorely grieved; but I presently inquired for the merchants, who sat at the table drinking their parting cup, with their travelling equipments already lying by them, seeing that they were just going to set out on their way to Stettin; straightway one of them jumped up from his liquor, a little fellow with a right noble paunch, and a black plaster on his nose, and asked me what I would of them? I took him aside into a window, and told him I had some fine amber, if he had a mind to buy it of me, which he straightway agreed to do. And when he had whispered somewhat into the ear of his fellow, he began to look very pleasant, and reached me the pitcher before we went to my inn. I drank to him right heartily, seeing that, as I have already said, I was still fasting, so that I felt my very heart warmed by it in an instant. (Gracious God! what can go beyond a good draught of wine taken within measure!) After this we went to my inn, and told the maid to carry the box on one side into a small chamber. I had scarce opened it and taken away the gown, when the man (whose name was Dieterich von Pehnen, as he had told me by the way), held up both hands for joy, and said he had never seen such wealth of amber, and how had I come by it? I answered that my child had found it on the sea-shore; whereat he wondered greatly that we had so much amber here, and offered me 300 florins for the whole box. I was quite beside myself for joy at such an offer, but took care not to let him see it, and bargained with him till I got 500 florins, and I was to go with him to the castle, and take the money forthwith. Hereupon I ordered mine host to make ready at once a mug of beer, and a good dinner for my child, and went back to the castle with the man, and the maid who carried the box, begging him, in order to avoid common talk, to say nothing of my good fortune to mine host, nor indeed to any one else in the town, and to count out the money to me privately, seeing that I could not be sure that the thieves might not lay in wait for me on the road home if they heard of it. And this the man did; for he whispered something into the ear of his fellow, who straightway opened his leathern surcoat, _item_, his doublet and hose, and unbuckled from his paunch a well-filled purse which he gave to him. _Summa_.--Before long I had my riches in my pocket, and, moreover, the man begged me to write to him at Amsterdam whenever I found any more amber, the which I promised to do. But the worthy fellow, as I have since heard, died of the plague at Stettin, together with his companion--truly I wish it had happened otherwise. [Footnote: Micrælius mentions these Dutch merchants, p. 171, but asserts that the cause of their death was doubtful, and that the town physician, Dr. Laurentius Eichstadius, in Stettin, had written a special medical paper on the subject. However, he calls one of them Kiekepost, instead of Kiekebusch.] Shortly after, I was very near getting into great trouble; for, as I had an extreme longing to fall on my knees, so that I could not wait until such time as I should have got back to my inn, I went up three or four steps of the castle stairs, and entered into a small chamber, where I humbled myself before the Lord. But the host, Nicolas Graeke, followed me, thinking I was a thief, and would have stopped me, so that I knew not how to excuse myself but by saying that I had been made drunken by the wine which the strange merchants had given to me (for he had seen what a good pull I had made at it), seeing I had not broken my fast that morning, and that I was looking for a chamber wherein I might sleep a while, which lie he believed (if in truth it were a lie, for I was really drunken, though not with wine, but with love and gratitude to my Maker), and accordingly he let me go. But I must now tell my story of his princely Highness, as I promised above. Anno 22, as I chanced to walk with my daughter, who was then a child of about twelve years old, in the castle garden at Wolgast, and was showing her the beautiful flowers that grew there, it chanced that as we came round from behind some bushes we espied my gracious lord the Duke Philippus Julius, with his princely Highness the Duke Bogislaff, who lay here on a visit, standing on a mount and conversing, wherefore we were about to return. But as my gracious lords presently walked on towards the drawbridge, we went to look at the mount where they had stood; of a sudden my little girl shouted loudly for joy, seeing that she found on the earth a costly signet-ring, which one of their princely Highnesses doubtless had dropped. I therefore said, "Come, and we will follow our gracious lords with all speed, and thou shalt say to them in Latin: _Serenissimi principes, quis vestrum hunc annulum deperdidit_? (for, as I have mentioned above, I had instructed her in the Latin tongue ever since her seventh year), and if one of them says _Ego_, give to him the ring. _Item_, should he ask thee in Latin to whom thou belongest, be not abashed, and say: _Ego sum filia pastoris Coserowiensis_; for thou wilt thus find favour in the eyes of their princely Highnesses, for they are both gracious gentlemen, more especially the taller one, who is our gracious ruler Philippus Julius himself." This she promised to do; but as she trembled sorely as she went, I encouraged her yet more and promised her a new gown if she did it, seeing that even as a little child she would have given a great deal for fine clothes. As soon, then, as we were come into the courtyard, I stood by the statue of his princely Highness Ernest Ludewig, [Footnote: The father of Philippus Julius, died at Wolgast 17th June 1592.] and whispered her to run boldly after them, as their princely Highnesses were only a few steps before us, and had already turned toward the great entrance. This she did, but of a sudden she stood still, and would have turned back, because she was frightened by the spurs of their princely Highnesses, as she afterwards told me, seeing that they rattled and jingled very loudly. But my gracious lady the Duchess Agnes saw her from the open window wherein she lay, and called to his princely Highness, "My lord, there is a little maiden behind you, who, it seems, would speak with you," whereupon his princely Highness straightway turned him round, smiling pleasantly, so that my little maid presently took courage, and, holding up the ring, spoke in Latin as I had told her. Hereat both the princes wondered beyond measure, and after my gracious Duke Philippus had felt his finger, he answered, "_Dulcissima puella, ego perdidi_;" whereupon she gave it to him. Then he patted her cheek, and again asked, "_Sed quoenam es, et unde venis_?" whereupon she boldly gave her answer, and at the same time pointed with her finger to where I stood by the statue; whereupon his princely Highness motioned me to draw near. My gracious lady saw all that passed from the window, but all at once she left it. She, however, came back to it again before I had time even humbly to draw near to my gracious lord, and beckoned to my child, and held a cake out of the window for her. On my telling her she ran up to the window, but her princely Highness could not reach so low nor she so high above her as to take it, wherefore my gracious lady commanded her to come up into the castle, and as she looked anxiously round after me, motioned me also, as did my gracious lord himself, who presently took the timid little maid by the hand and went up with his princely Highness the Duke Bogislaff. My gracious lady came to meet us at the door, and caressed and embraced my little daughter, so that she soon grew quite bold and ate the cake. When my gracious lord had asked me my name, _item_, why I had in so singular a manner taught my daughter the Latin tongue, I answered that I had heard much from a cousin at Cologne of Maria Schurman, [Footnote: Anna Maria Schurman, born at Cologne on the 5th Nov. 1607, died at Wiewardin the 5th May 1678, was, according to the unanimous testimony of her contemporaries, a prodigy of learning, and perhaps the most learned woman that ever lived. The Frenchman Naudé says of her, "You find in her alone all that the hand can fashion or the mind conceive. No one paints better, no one works better in brass, wax, and wood. In needlework she excels all women past or present. It is impossible to say in what branch of knowledge she is most distinguished. Not content with the European languages, she understands Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, and writes Latin so well that no one who has devoted his whole life to it can do it better." The celebrated Netherlander Spanheim calls her a teacher of the Graces and the Muses; the still more celebrated Salmasius confesses that he knows not in which branch of learning to say she excels: and the Pole Rotyer calls her "The sole example of all wondrous works in one single learned person, and a perfect _monstrum_ of her sex, yet without fault or blame." For, in truth, with all her extraordinary knowledge she was marvellously humble, although she herself confesses that the immoderate praises of the learned even yet at times blinded her to her own defects. In her later years she went over to the sect of the Labadists, which appears to have some points in common with that of the Muckers. She died unmarried, as an early love affair in her fifteenth year with the Dutchman Caets had been broken off. It is related of her, as a strange fancy, that she liked to eat spiders. The celebrated Spanheim was the first to publish an edition of her works under the title of _Annæ Mariæ a Schurman Opuscula_. Leyden, 1648.] and as I had observed a very excellent _ingenium_ in my child, and also had time enough in my lonely cure, I did not hesitate to take her in hand, and teach her from her youth up, seeing I had no boy alive. Hereat their princely Highnesses marvelled greatly, and put some more questions to her in Latin, which she answered without any prompting from me. Whereupon my gracious lord Duke Philippus said in the vulgar tongue, "When thou art grown up and art one day to be married, tell it to me, and thou shalt then have another ring from me, and whatsoever else pertains to a bride, for thou hast this day done me good service, seeing that this ring is a precious jewel to me, as I had it from my wife." Hereupon I whispered her to kiss his princely Highness' hand for such a promise, and so she did. (But alas, most gracious God, it is one thing to promise and quite another to hold! Where is his princely Highness at this time? Wherefore let me ever keep in mind that "Thou only art faithful, and that which Thou hast promised Thou wilt surely hold." Ps. xxxiii. 4. Amen. [Footnote: Luther's version.]) _Item_.--When his princely Highness had also inquired concerning myself and my cure, and heard that I was of ancient and noble family, and my _salarium_ very small, he called from the window to his chancellor, D. Rungius, who stood without, looking at the sun-dial, and told him that I was to have an addition from the convent at Pudgla, _item_, from the crownlands at Ernsthoff, as I mentioned above; but, more's the pity, I never have received the same, although the _instrumentum donationis_ was sent me soon after by his princely Highness' chancellor. Then cakes were brought for me also, _item_, a glass of foreign wine in a glass painted with armorial bearings, whereupon I humbly took my leave, together with my daughter. However, to come back to my bargain, anybody may guess what joy my child felt when I showed her the fair ducats and florins I had gotten for the amber. To the maid, however, we said that we had inherited such riches from my brother in Holland, and after we had again given thanks to the Lord on our knees, and eaten our dinner, we bought in a great store of bread, salt, meat, and stock-fish: _item_, of clothes, seeing that I provided what was needful for us three throughout the winter from the cloth-merchant. Moreover, for my daughter I bought a hair-net and a scarlet silk bodice, with a black apron and white petticoat, _item_, a fine pair of earrings, as she begged hard for them; and as soon as I had ordered the needful from the cordwainer we set out on our way homewards, as it began to grow very dark; but we could not carry nearly all we had bought. Wherefore we were forced to get a peasant from Bannemin to help us, who likewise was come into the town, and as I found out from him that the fellow who gave me the piece of bread was a poor cotter called Pantermehl, who dwelt in the village by the roadside, I shoved a couple of loaves in at his house-door without his knowing it, and we went on our way by the bright moonlight, so that by the help of God we got home about ten o'clock at night. I likewise gave a loaf to the other fellow, though truly he deserved it not, seeing that he would go with us no further than to Zitze. But I let him go, for I, too, had not deserved that the Lord should so greatly bless me. CHAPTER XI. _How I fed all the congregation--Item, how I journeyed to the horse-fair at Gützkow, and what befell me there._ Next morning my daughter cut up the blessed bread, and sent to every one in the village a good large piece. But as we saw that our store would soon run low, we sent the maid with a truck, which we bought of Adam Lempken, to Wolgast, to buy more bread, which she did. _Item_, I gave notice throughout the parish that on Sunday next I should administer the Blessed Sacrament, and in the meantime I bought up all the large fish that the people of the village had caught. And when the blessed Sunday was come I first heard the confessions of the whole parish, and after that I preached a sermon on Matt. xv. 32, "I have compassion on the multitude ... for they have nothing to eat." I first applied the same to spiritual food only, and there arose a great sighing from both the men and the women, when, at the end, I pointed to the altar whereon stood the blessed food for the soul, and repeated the words, "I have compassion on the multitude ... for they have nothing to eat." (_N.B._ The pewter cup I had borrowed at Wolgast, and bought there a little earthenware plate for a paten till such time as Master Bloom should have made ready the silver cup and paten I had bespoke.) Thereupon as soon as I had consecrated and administered the Blessed Sacrament, _item_, led the closing hymn, and every one had silently prayed his "Our Father" before going out of church, I came out of the confessional again, and motioned the people to stay yet awhile, as the blessed Saviour would feed not only their souls, but their bodies also, seeing that He still had the same compassion on His people as of old on the people at the Sea of Galilee, as they should presently see. Then I went into the tower and fetched out two baskets which the maid had bought at Wolgast, and which I had hidden there in good time; set them down in front of the altar, and took off the napkins with which they were covered, whereupon a very loud shout arose, inasmuch as they saw one filled with broiled fish and the other with bread, which we had put into them privately. Hereupon, like our Saviour, I gave thanks and brake it, and gave it to the churchwarden, Hinrich Seden, that he might distribute it among the men, and to my daughter for the women. Whereupon I made application of the text, "I have compassion on the multitude, for they have nothing to eat," to the food of the body also; and walking up and down in the church amid great outcries from all, I exhorted them always to trust in God's mercy, to pray without ceasing, to work diligently, and to consent to no sin. What was left I made them gather up for their children and the old people who were left at home. After church, when I had scarce put off my surplice, Hinrich Seden his squint-eyed wife came and impudently asked for more for her husband's journey to Liepe; neither had she had anything for herself, seeing she had not come to church. This angered me sore, and I said to her, "Why wast thou not at church? Nevertheless, if thou hadst come humbly to me thou shouldst have gotten somewhat even now, but as thou comest impudently, I will give thee naught: think on what thou didst to me and to my child." But she stood at the door and glowered impudently about the room till my daughter took her by the arm and led her out, saying, "Hear'st thou, thou shall come back humbly before thou gett'st anything, but when thou comest thus, thou also shall have thy share, for we will no longer reckon with thee an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; let the Lord do that if such be His will, but we will gladly forgive thee!" Hereupon she at last went out at the door, muttering to herself as she was wont; but she spat several times in the street, as we saw from the window. Soon after I made up my mind to take into my service a lad, near upon twenty years of age, called Claus Neels, seeing that his father, old Neels of Loddin, begged hard that I would do so, besides which the lad pleased me well in manners and otherwise. Then, as we had a good harvest this year, I resolved to buy me a couple of horses forthwith, and to sow my field again; for although it was now late in the year, I thought that the most merciful God might bless the crop with increase if it seemed good to Him. Neither did I feel much care with respect to food for them, inasmuch as there was a great plenty of hay in the neighbourhood, seeing that all the cattle had been killed or driven away (as related above). I therefore made up my mind to go in God's name with my new ploughman to Gützkow, whither a great many Mecklenburg horses were brought to the fair, seeing that times were not yet so bad there as with us. [Footnote: The fief of Mecklenburg was given by the Emperor to Wallenstein, who spared the country as much as he could.] Meanwhile I went a few more times up the Streckelberg with my daughter at night, and by moonlight, but found very little; so that we began to think our luck had come to an end, when, on the third night, we broke off some pieces of amber bigger even than those the two Dutchmen had bought. These I resolved to send to my wife's brother, Martin Behring, at Hamburg, seeing that the schipper Wulff of Wolgast intends, as I am told, to sail thither this very autumn, with pitch and wood for shipbuilding. I accordingly packed it all up in a strong chest, which I carried with me to Wolgast when I started with my man on my journey to Gützkow. Of this journey I will only relate thus much, that there were plenty of horses, and very few buyers in the market. Wherefore I bought a pair of fine black horses for twenty florins apiece; _item_, a cart for five florins; _item_, twenty-five bushels of rye, which also came from Mecklenburg, at one florin the bushel, whereas it is hardly to be had now at Wolgast for love or money, and cost three florins or more the bushel. I might therefore have made a good bargain in rye at Gützkow if it had become my office, and had I not, moreover, been afraid lest the robbers, who swarm in these evil times, should take away my corn, and ill-use, and perchance murder me into the bargain, as has happened to sundry people already. For, at this time especially, such robberies were carried on after a strange and frightful fashion on Strellin heath at Gützkow; but by God's help it all came to light just as I journeyed thither with my man-servant to the fair, and I will here tell how it happened. Some months before a man had been broken on the wheel at Gützkow, because, being tempted of Satan, he murdered a travelling workman. The man, however, straightway began to walk after so fearful a fashion, that in the evening and night-season he sprang down from the wheel in his gallows dress whenever a cart passed by the gallows, which stands hard by the road to Wolgast, and jumped up behind the people, who in horror and dismay flogged on their horses, and thereby made a great rattling on the log embankment which leads beside the gallows into a little wood called the Kraulin. And it was a strange thing that on the same night the travellers were almost always robbed or murdered on Strellin heath. Hereupon the magistrates had the man taken down from the wheel, and buried under the gallows, in hopes of laying his ghost. But it went on just as before, sitting at night snow-white on the wheel, so that none durst any longer travel the road to Wolgast. Until at last it happened that, at the time of the above-named fair, young Rudiger von Nienkerken of Mellenthin, in Usedom, who had been studying at Wittenberg and elsewhere, and was now on his way home, came this road by night with his carriage. Just before, at the inn, I myself had tried to persuade him to stop the night at Gutzkow on account of the ghost, and to go on his journey with me next morning, but he would not. Now as soon as this young lord drove along the road, he also espied the apparition sitting on the wheel, and scarcely had he passed the gallows when the ghost jumped down and ran after him. The driver was horribly afraid, and lashed on the horses as everybody else had done before, and they, taking fright, galloped away over the log-road with a marvellous clatter. Meanwhile, however, the young nobleman saw by the light of the moon how that the apparition flattened a ball of horse-dung whereon it trod, and straightway felt sure within himself that it was no ghost. Whereupon he called to the driver to stop; and as the man would not hearken to him, he sprung out of the carriage, drew his rapier, and hastened to attack the ghost. When the ghost saw this he would have turned and fled; but the young nobleman gave him such a blow on the head with his fist that he fell upon the ground with a loud wailing. _Summa:_ the young lord, having called back his driver, dragged the ghost into the town again, where he turned out to be a shoe-maker called Schwelm. I also, on seeing such a great crowd, ran thither with many others, to look at the fellow. He trembled like an aspen leaf; and when he was roughly told to make a clean breast, whereby he might peradventure save his own life, if it appeared that he had murdered no one, he confessed that he had got his wife to make him a gallows dress, which he had put on, and had sat on the wheel before the dead man, when, from the darkness and the distance, no one could see that the two were sitting there together; and this he did more especially when he knew that a cart was going from the town to Wolgast. When the cart came by, and he jumped down and ran after it, all the people were so affrighted that they no longer kept their eyes upon the gallows, but only on him, flogged the horses, and galloped with much noise and clatter over the log embankment. This was heard by his fellows in Strellin and Dammbecke (two villages which are about three-fourths on the way), who held themselves ready to unyoke the horses and to plunder the travellers when they came up with them. That after the dead man was buried he could play the ghost more easily still, &c. That this was the whole truth, and that he himself had never in his life robbed, still less murdered, any one; wherefore he begged to be forgiven: that all the robberies and murders which had happened had been done by his fellows alone. Ah, thou cunning knave! But I heard afterwards that he and his fellows were broken on the wheel together, as was but fair. And now to come back to my journey. The young nobleman abode that night with me at the inn, and early next morning we both set forth; and as we had grown into good fellowship together, I got into his coach with him as he offered me, so as to talk by the way, and my Claus drove behind us. I soon found that he was a well-bred, honest, and learned gentleman, seeing that he despised the wild student life, and was glad that he had now done with their scandalous drinking-bouts: moreover, he talked his Latin readily. I had therefore much pleasure with him in the coach. However, at Wolgast the rope of the ferry-boat broke, so that we were carried down the stream to Zeuzin, [Footnote: Now Sauzin.] and at length we only got ashore with great trouble. Meanwhile it grew late, and we did not get into Coserow till nine, when I asked the young lord to abide the night with me, which he agreed to do. We found my child sitting in the chimney corner, making a petticoat for her little god-daughter out of her own old clothes. She was greatly frighted, and changed colour when she saw the young lord come in with me, and heard that he was to lie there that night, seeing that as yet we had no more beds than we had bought for our own need from old Zabel Nering the forest-ranger his widow, at Uekeritze. Wherefore she took me aside: What was to be done? My bed was in an ill plight, her little godchild having lain on it that morning; and she could no wise put the young nobleman into hers, although she would willingly creep in by the maid herself. And when I asked her why not? she blushed scarlet, and began to cry, and would not show herself again the whole evening, so that the maid had to see to everything, even to the putting white sheets on my child's bed for the young lord, as she would not do it herself. I only tell this to show how maidens are. For next morning she came into the room with her red silk bodice, and the net on her hair, and the apron; _summa,_ dressed in all the things I had bought her at Wolgast, so that the young lord was amazed, and talked much with her over the morning meal. Whereupon he took his leave, and desired me to visit him at his castle. CHAPTER XII. _What further joy and sorrow befell us; item, how Wittich Appelmann rode to Damerow to the wolf-hunt, and what he proposed to my daughter._ The Lord blessed my parish wonderfully this winter, inasmuch as not only a great quantity of fish were caught and sold in all the villages, but in Coserow they even killed four seals; _item,_ the great storm of the 12th of December threw a goodly quantity of amber on the shore, so that many found amber, although no very large pieces, and they began to buy cows and sheep from Liepe and other places, as I myself also bought two cows; _item,_ my grain which I had sown, half on my own field and half on old Paasch's, sprung up bravely and gladly, as the Lord had till _datum_ bestowed on us an open winter; but so soon as it had shot up a finger's length, we found it one morning again torn up and ruined, and this time also by the devil's doings, since now, as before, not the smallest trace of oxen or of horses was to be seen in the field. May the righteous God, however, reward it, as indeed He already has done. Amen. Meanwhile, however, something uncommon happened. For one morning, as I have heard, when Lord Wittich saw out of the window that the daughter of his fisherman, a child of sixteen, whom he had diligently pursued, went into the coppice to gather dry sticks, he went thither too; wherefore, I will not say, but every one may guess for himself. When he had gone some way along the convent mound, and was come to the first bridge, where the mountain-ash stands, he saw two wolves coming towards him; and as he had no weapon with him, save a staff, he climbed up into a tree; whereupon the wolves trotted round it, blinked at him with their eyes, licked their lips, and at last jumped with their fore-paws up against the tree, snapping at him; he then saw that one was a he-wolf, a great fat brute with only one eye. Hereupon in his fright he began to scream, and the long-suffering of God was again shown to him, without, however, making him wiser; for the maiden, who had crept behind a juniper-bush in the field, when she saw the sheriff coming, ran back again to the castle and called together a number of people, who came and drove away the wolves, and rescued his lordship. He then ordered a great wolf-hunt to be held next day in the convent wood, and he who brought the one-eyed monster, dead or alive, was to have a barrel of beer for his pains. Still they could not catch him, albeit they that day took four wolves in their nets, and killed them. He therefore straightway ordered a wolf-hunt to be held in my parish. But when the fellow came to toll the bell for a wolf-hunt, he did not stop awhile, as is the wont for wolf-hunts, but loudly rang the bell on, _sine mord,_ so that all the folk thought a fire had broken out, and ran screaming out of their houses. My child also came running out (I myself had driven to visit a sick person at Zempin, seeing that walking began to be wearisome to me, and that I could now afford to be more at mine ease); but she had not stood long, and was asking the reason of the ringing, when the sheriff himself, on his grey charger, with three cart-loads of toils and nets following him, galloped up and ordered the people straightway to go into the forest and to drive the wolves with rattles. Hereupon he, with his hunters and a few men whom he had picked out of the crowd, were to ride on and spread the nets behind Damerow, seeing that the island is wondrous narrow there, [Footnote: The space, which is constantly diminishing, now scarcely measures a bow-shot across.] and the wolf dreads the water. When he saw my daughter he turned his horse round, chucked her under the chin, and graciously asked her who she was, and whence she came? When he had heard it, he said she was as fair as an angel, and that he had not known till now that the parson here had so beauteous a girl. He then rode off, looking round at her two or three times. At the first beating they found the one-eyed wolf, who lay in the rushes near the water. Hereat his lordship rejoiced greatly, and made the grooms drag him out of the net with long iron hooks, and hold him there for near an hour, while my lord slowly and cruelly tortured him to death, laughing heartily the while, which is a _prognosticon_ of what he afterwards did with my poor child, for wolf or lamb is all one to this villain. Just God! But I will not be beforehand with my tale. Next day came old Seden his squint-eyed wife, limping like a lame dog, and put it to my daughter whether she would not go into the service of the sheriff; praised him as a good and pious man; and vowed that all the world said of him were foul lies, as she herself could bear witness, seeing that she had lived in his service for above ten years. _Item,_ she praised the good cheer they had there, and the handsome beer-money that the great lords who often lay there gave the servants which waited upon them; that she herself had more than once received a rose-noble from his princely Highness Duke Ernest Ludewig; moreover, many pretty fellows came there, which might make her fortune, inasmuch as she was a fair woman, and might take her choice of a husband; whereas here in Coserow, where nobody ever came, she might wait till she was old and ugly before she got a curch on her head, &c. Hereat my daughter was beyond measure angered, and answered, "Ah! thou old witch, and who has told thee that I wish to go into service, to get a curch on my head? Go thy ways, and never enter the house again, for I have naught to do with thee." Whereupon she walked away again, muttering between her teeth. Scarce had a few days passed, and I was standing in the chamber with the glazier, who was putting in new windows, when I heard my daughter scream in the kitchen. Whereupon I straightway ran in thither, and was shocked and affrighted when I saw the sheriff himself standing in the corner with his arm round my child her neck; he, however, presently let her go, and said, "Aha, reverend Abraham, what a coy little fool you have for a daughter! I wanted to greet her with a kiss, as I always used to do, and she struggled and cried out as if I had been some young fellow who had stolen in upon her, whereas I might be her father twice over." As I answered naught, he went on to say that he had done it to encourage her, seeing that he desired to take her into his service, as indeed I knew, with more excuses of the same kind which I have forgot. Hereupon I pressed him to come into the room, seeing that after all he was the ruler set over me by God, and humbly asked what his lordship desired of me. Whereupon he answered me graciously, that it was true he had just cause for anger against me, seeing that I had preached at him before the whole congregation, but that he was ready to forgive me and to have the complaint he had sent in _contra_ me to his princely Highness at Stettin, and which might easily cost me my place, returned to him if I would but do his will. And when I asked what his lordship's will might be, and excused myself as best I might with regard to the sermon, he answered that he stood in great need of a faithful housekeeper whom he could set over the other women folk; and as he had learnt that my daughter was a faithful and trustworthy person, he would that I should send her into his service. "See there," said he to her, and pinched her cheek the while. "I want to lead you to honour, though you are such a young creature, and yet you cry out as if I were going to bring you to dishonour. Fie upon you!" (My child still remembers all this--_verbolenus_; I myself should have forgot it a hundred times over in all the wretchedness I since underwent.) But she was offended at his words, and, jumping up from her seat, she answered shortly, "I thank your lordship for the honour, but will only keep house for my papa, which is a better honour for me;" whereupon he turned to me and asked what I said to that. I must own that I was not a little affrighted, inasmuch as I thought of the future and of the credit in which the sheriff stood with his princely Highness. I therefore answered with all humility, that I could not force my child, and that I loved to have her about me, seeing that my dear huswife had departed this life during the heavy pestilence, and I had no child but only her. That I hoped therefore his lordship would not be displeased with me that I could not send her into his lordship's service. This angered him sore, and after disputing some time longer in vain he took leave, not without threats that he would make me pay for it. _Item_, my man, who was standing in the stable, heard him say as he went round the corner, "I will have her yet, in spite of him!" I was already quite disheartened by all this, when, on the Sunday following, there came his huntsman Johannes Kurt, a tall, handsome fellow, and smartly dressed. He brought a roebuck tied before him on his horse, and said that his lordship had sent it to me for a present, in hopes that I would think better of his offer, seeing that he had been ever since seeking on all sides for a housekeeper in vain. Moreover, that if I changed my mind about it his lordship would speak for me to his princely Highness, so that the dotation of Duke Philippus Julius should be paid to me out of the princely _ærarium_ &c. But the young fellow got the same answer as his master had done, and I desired him to take the roebuck away with him again. But this he refused to do; and as I had by chance told him at first that game was my favourite meat, he promised to supply me with it abundantly, seeing that there was plenty of game in the forest, and that he often went a-hunting on the Streckelberg; moreover, that I (he meant my daughter) pleased him uncommonly, the more because I would not do his master's will, who, as he told me in confidence, would never leave any girl in peace, and certainly would not let my damsel alone. Although I had rejected his game, he brought it notwithstanding, and in the course of three weeks he was sure to come four or five times, and grew more and more sweet upon my daughter. He talked a vast deal about his good place, and how he was in search of a good huswife, whence we soon guessed what quarter the wind blew from. _Ergo_, my daughter told him that if he was seeking for a huswife she wondered that he lost his time in riding to Coserow to no purpose, for that she knew of no huswife for him there, which vexed him so sore that he never came again. And now any one would think that the grapes were sour even for the sheriff; nevertheless he came riding to us soon after, and without more ado asked my daughter in marriage for his huntsman. Moreover, he promised to build him a house of his own in the forest; _item_, to give him pots and kettles, crockery, bedding, &c., seeing that he had stood godfather to the young fellow, who, moreover, had ever borne himself well during seven years he had been in his service. Hereupon my daughter answered that his lordship had already heard that she would keep house for nobody but her papa, and that she was still much too young to become a huswife. This, however, did not seem to anger him, but, after he had talked a long time to no purpose, he took leave quite kindly, like a cat which pretends to let a mouse go, and creeps behind the corners, but she is not in earnest, and presently springs out upon it again. For doubtless he saw that he had set to work stupidly; wherefore he went away in order to begin his attack again after a better fashion, and Satan went with him, as whilom with Judas Iscariot, CHAPTER XIII. _What more happened during the winter--Item, how in the spring witchcraft began in the village._ Nothing else of note happened during the winter, save that the merciful God bestowed a great plenty of fish both from the Achterwater and the sea, and the parish again had good food; so that it might be said of us, as it is written, "For a small moment have I forsaken thee; but with great mercies will I gather thee." [Footnote: Isa. liv. 7.] Wherefore we were not weary of praising the Lord; and the whole congregation did much for the church, buying new pulpit and altar cloths, seeing that the enemy had stolen the old ones. _Item_, they desired to make good to me the money I had paid for the new cups, which, however, I would not take. There were still, however, about ten peasants in the parish who had not been able to buy their seed-corn for the spring, inasmuch as they had spent all their earnings on cattle and corn for bread. I therefore made an agreement with them that I would lend them the money for it, and that if they could not repay me this year, they might the next, which offer they thankfully took; and we sent seven waggons to Friedland, in Mecklenburg, to fetch seed-corn for us all. For my beloved brother-in-law, Martin Behring, in Hamburg, had already sent me by the schipper Wulf, who had sailed home by Christmas, 700 florins for the amber: may the Lord prosper it with him! Old Thiemcke died this winter in Loddin, who used to be the midwife in the parish, and had also brought my child into the world. Of late, however, she had had but little to do, seeing that in this year I only baptized two children, namely, Jung his son in Uekeritze, and Lene Hebers her little daughter, the same whom the Imperialists afterwards speared. _Item_, it was now full five years since I had married the last couple. Hence any one may guess that I might have starved to death, had not the righteous God so mercifully considered and blessed me in other ways. Wherefore to Him alone be all honour and glory. Amen. Meanwhile, however, it so happened that, not long after the sheriff had last been here, witchcraft began in the village. I sat reading with my child the second book of _Virgilus_, of the fearful destruction of the city of Troy, which was more terrible even than that of our own village, when a cry arose that our old neighbour Zabel his red cow, which he had bought only a few days before, had stretched out all fours, and seemed about to die; and this was the more strange as she had fed heartily but half-an-hour before. My child was therefore begged to go and pluck three hairs from its tail and bury them under the threshold of the stall; for it was well known that if this was done by a pure maid the cow would get better. My child then did as they would have her, seeing that she is the only maid in the whole village (for the others are still children); and the cow got better from that very hour, whereat all the folks were amazed. But it was not long before the same thing befell Witthahn her pig, whilst it was feeding heartily. She too came running to beg my child for God's sake to take compassion on her, and to do something for her pig, as ill men had bewitched it. Hereupon she had pity on her also; and it did as much good as it had done before. But the woman, who was _gravida_, was straightway taken in labour from the fright; and my child was scarce out of the pig-stye when the woman went into her cottage, wailing and holding by the wall, and called together all the women of the neighbourhood, seeing that the proper midwife was dead, as mentioned above; and before long something shot to the ground from under her; and when the women stooped down to pick it up, the devil's imp, which had wings like a bat, flew up off the ground, whizzed and buzzed about the room, and then shot out of the window with a great noise, so that the glass clattered down into the street. When they looked after it, nothing was to be found. Any one may judge for himself what a great noise this made in all the neighbourhood. And the whole village believed that it was no one but old Seden his squint-eyed wife that had brought forth such a devil's brat. But the people soon knew not what to believe. For that woman her cow got the same thing as all the other cows; wherefore she too came lamenting, and begged my daughter to take pity on her as on the rest, and to cure her poor cow for the love of God. That if she had taken it ill of her that she had said anything about going into service with the sheriff, she could only say she had done it for the best, &c. _Summa_, she talked over my unhappy child to go and cure her cow. Meanwhile I was on my knees every Sunday before the Lord with the whole congregation, praying that He would not allow the evil one to take from us that which His mercy had once more bestowed upon us after such extreme want; _item_, that he would bring to light the _auctor_ of such devilish works, so that he might receive the punishment he deserved. But all was of no avail. For a very few days had passed when the mischief befell Stoffer Zuter his spotted cow, and he, too, like all the rest, came running to fetch my daughter; she accordingly went with him, but could do no good, and the beast died under her hands. _Item_, Katy Berow had bought a little pig with the money my daughter had paid her in the winter for spinning, and the poor woman kept it like a child, and let it run about her room. This little pig got the mischief, like all the rest, in the twinkling of an eye; and when my daughter was called it grew no better, but also died under her hands; whereupon the poor woman made a great outcry and tore her hair for grief, so that my child was moved to pity her, and promised her another pig next time my sow should litter. Meantime another week passed over, during which I went on, together with the whole congregation, to call upon the Lord for His merciful help, but all in vain, when the same thing happened to old wife Seden her little pig. Whereupon she again came running for my daughter with loud outcries, and although my child told her that she must have seen herself that nothing she could do for the cattle cured them any longer, she ceased not to beg and pray her, and to lament, till she went forth to do what she could for her with the help of God. But it was all to no purpose, inasmuch as the little pig died before she left the stye. What think you this devil's whore then did? After she had run screaming through the village she said that any one might see that my daughter was no longer a maid, else why could she now do no good to the cattle, whereas she had formerly cured them? She supposed my child had lost her maiden honour on the Streckelberg, whither she went so often this spring, and that God only knew who had taken it! But she said no more then, and we did not hear the whole until afterwards. And it is indeed true that my child had often walked on the Streckelberg this spring both with me and also alone, in order to seek for flowers and to look upon the blessed sea, while she recited aloud, as she was wont, such verses out of _Virgilius_ as pleased her best (for whatever she read a few times that she remembered). Neither did I forbid her to take these walks, for there were no wolves now left on the Streckelberg, and even if there had been they always fly before a human creature in the summer season. Howbeit, I forbade her to dig for amber. For as it now lay deep, and we knew not what to do with the earth we threw up, I resolved to tempt the Lord no further, but to wait till my store of money grew very scant before we would dig any more. But my child did not do as I had bidden her, although she had promised she would, and of this her disobedience came all our misery. (O blessed Lord, how grave a matter is Thy holy fourth commandment! [Footnote: In Luther's version.]) For as his reverence Johannes Lampius, of Crummin, who visited me this spring, had told me that the Cantor of Wolgast wanted to sell the _Opp. St. Augustini_, and I had said before her that I desired above all things to buy that book, but had not money enough left; she got up in the night without my knowledge to dig for amber, meaning to sell it as best she might at Wolgast, in order secretly to present me with the _Opp. St. Augustini_ on my birthday, which falls on the 28th _mensis Augusti_. She had always covered over the earth she cast up with twigs of fir, whereof there were plenty in the forest, so that no one should perceive anything of it. Meanwhile, however, it befell that the young _nobilis_ Rüdiger of Nienkerken came riding one day to gather news of the terrible witchcraft that went on in the village. When I told him all about it he shook his head doubtingly, and said he believed that all witchcraft was nothing but lies and deceit; whereat I was struck with great horror, inasmuch as I had hitherto held the young lord to be a wiser man, and now could not but see that he was an atheist. He guessed what my thoughts were, and with a smile he answered me by asking whether I had ever read Johannes Wierus, [Footnote: A Netherland physician, who, long before Spee or Thomasius, attacked the wicked follies of the belief in witchcraft prevalent in his time in the paper entitled _Confulatio opinionum de magorum Dæmonomia_, Frankfort, 1590, and was therefore denounced by Bodinus and others as one of the worst magicians. It is curious that this liberal man had in another book, _De præstigiis Dæmonum_, taught the method of raising devils, and described the whole of hell, with the names and surnames of its 572 princes.] who would hear nothing of witchcraft, and who argued that all witches were melancholy persons who only imagined to themselves that they had a _pactum_ with the devil; and that to him they seemed more worthy of pity than of punishment? Hereupon I answered that I had not indeed read any such book (for say, who can read all that fools write?), but that the appearances here and in all other places proved that it was a monstrous error to deny the reality of witchcraft, inasmuch as people might then likewise deny that there were such things as murder, adultery, and theft. But he called my _argumentum_ a _dilemma_, and after he had discoursed a great deal of the devil, all of which I have forgotten, seeing it savoured strangely of heresy, he said he would relate to me a piece of witchcraft which he himself had seen at Wittenberg. It seems that one morning, as an Imperial captain mounted his good charger at the Elstergate in order to review his company, the horse presently began to rage furiously, reared, tossed his head, snorted, kicked, and roared not as horses use to neigh, but with a sound as though the voice came from a human throat, so that all the folks were amazed, and thought the horse bewitched. It presently threw the captain and crushed his head with its hoof, so that he lay writhing on the ground, and straightway set off at full speed. Hereupon a trooper fired his carabine at the bewitched horse, which fell in the midst of the road, and presently died. That he, Riidiger, had then drawn near, together with many others, seeing that the colonel had forthwith given orders to the surgeon of the regiment to cut open the horse and see in what state it was inwardly. However, that everything was quite right, and both the surgeon and army physician testified that the horse was thoroughly sound; whereupon all the people cried out more than ever about witchcraft. Mean-while he himself (I mean the young _nobilis_) saw a thin smoke coming out from the horse's nostrils, and on stooping down to look what it might be, he drew out a match as long as my finger, which still smouldered, and which some wicked fellow had privately thrust into its nose with a pin. Hereupon all thoughts of witchcraft were at an end, and search was made for the culprit, who was presently found to be no other than the captain's own groom. For one day that his master had dusted his jacket for him he swore an oath that he would have his revenge, which indeed the provost-marshal himself had heard as he chanced to be standing in the stable. _Item_, another soldier bore witness that he had seen the fellow cut a piece off the fuse not long before he led out his master's horse. And thus, thought the young lord, would it be with all witchcraft if it were sifted to the bottom; like as I myself had seen at Giitzkow, where the devil's apparition turned out to be a cordwainer, and that one day I should own that it was the same sort of thing here in our village. By reason of this speech I liked not the young nobleman from that hour forward, believing him to be an atheist. Though, indeed, afterwards, I have had cause to see that he was in the right, more's the pity, for had it not been for him what would have become of my daughter? But I will say nothing beforehand. _Summa_: I walked about the room in great displeasure at his words, while the young lord began to argue with my daughter upon witchcraft, now in Latin, and now in the vulgar tongue, as the words came into his mouth, and wanted to hear her mind about it. But she answered that she was a foolish thing, and could have no opinion on the matter; but that, nevertheless, she believed that what happened in the village could not be by natural means. Hereupon the maid called me out of the room (I forget what she wanted of me); but when I came back again my daughter was as red as scarlet, and the nobleman stood close before her. I therefore asked her, as soon as he had ridden off, whether anything had happened, which she at first denied, but afterwards owned that he had said to her while I was gone, that he knew but one person who could bewitch; and when she asked him who that person was, he caught hold of her hand and said, "It is yourself, sweet maid; for you have thrown a spell upon my heart, as I feel right well!" But that he said nothing further, but only gazed on her face with eager eyes, and this it was that made her so red. But this is the way with maidens; they ever have their secrets if one's back is turned but for a minute; and the proverb-- "To drive a goose and watch a maid Needs the devil himself to aid," is but too true, as will be shown hereafter, more's the pity! CHAPTER XIV. _How old Seden disappeared all on a sudden--Item, how the great Gustavus Adolphus came to Pomeranla, and took the fort at Peenemünde._ We were now left for some time in peace from witchcraft; unless, indeed, I reckon the caterpillars, which miserably destroyed my orchard, and which truly were a strange thing. For the trees blossomed so fair and sweetly, that one day as we were walking under them, and praising the almighty power of the most merciful God, my child said, "If the Lord goes on to bless us so abundantly, it will be Christmas Eve with us every night of next winter!" But things soon fell out far otherwise. For all in a moment the trees were covered with such swarms of caterpillars (great and small, and of every shape and colour), that one might have measured them by the bushel; and before long my poor trees looked like brooms; and the blessed fruit, which was so well set, all fell off, and was scarce good enough for the pigs. I do not choose to lay this to any one, though I had my own private thoughts upon the matter, and have them yet. However, my barley, whereof I had sown about three bushels out on the common, shot up bravely. On my field I had sown nothing, seeing that I dreaded the malice of Satan. Neither was corn at all plentiful throughout the parish, in part because they had sown no winter crops, and in part because the summer crops did not prosper. However, in all the villages a great supply of fish was caught by the mercy of God, especially herring; but they were very low in price. Moreover, they killed many seals; and at Whitsuntide I myself killed one as I walked by the sea with my daughter. The creature lay on a rock close to the water, snoring like a Christian. Thereupon I pulled off my shoes and drew near him softly, so that he heard me not, and then struck him over his nose with my staff (for a seal cannot bear much on his nose), so that he tumbled over into the water; but he was quite stunned, and I could easily kill him outright. It was a fat beast, though not very large; and we melted forty pots of train-oil out of his fat, which we put by for a winter store. Meanwhile, however, something seized old Seden all at once, so that he wished to receive the Holy Sacrament. When I went to him, he could give no reason for it; or perhaps he would give none for fear of his old Lizzie, who was always watching him with her squinting eyes, and would not leave the room. However, Zuter his little girl, a child near twelve years old, said that a few days before, while she was plucking grass for the cattle under the garden hedge by the road, she heard the husband and wife quarrelling violently again, and that the goodman threw in her teeth that he now knew of a certainty that she had a familiar spirit, and that he would straightway go and tell it to the priest. Albeit this is only a child's tale, it may be true for all that, seeing that children and fools, they say, speak the truth. But be that as it may. _Summa:_ my old warden grew worse and worse; and though I visited him every morning and evening, as I use to do to my sick, in order to pray with him, and often observed that he had somewhat on his mind, nevertheless he could not disburthen himself of it, seeing that old Lizzie never left her post. This went on for a while, when at last one day about noon, he sent to beg me to scrape a little silver off the new sacramental cup, because he had been told that he should get better if he took it mixed with the dung of fowls. For some time I would not consent, seeing that I straightway suspected that there was some devilish mischief behind it; but he begged and prayed, till I did as he would have me. And lo and behold, he mended from that very hour, so that when I went to pray with him at evening, I found him already sitting on the bench with a bowl between his knees, out of which he was supping broth. However, he would not pray (which was strange, seeing that he used to pray so gladly, and often could not wait patiently for my coming, insomuch that he sent after me two or three times if I was not at hand, or elsewhere employed), but he told me he had prayed already, and that he would give me the cock, whose dung he had taken, for my trouble, as it was a fine large cock, and he had nothing better to offer for my Sunday's dinner. And as the poultry was by this time gone to roost, he went up to the perch which was behind the stove, and reached down the cock, and put it under the arm of the maid, who was just come to call me away. Not for all the world, however, would I have eaten the cock, but I turned it out to breed. I went to him once more and asked whether I should give thanks to the Lord next Sunday for his recovery; whereupon he answered that I might do as I pleased in the matter. Hereat I shook my head, and left the house, resolving to send for him as soon as ever I should hear that his old Lizzie was from home (for she often went to fetch flax to spin from the sheriff). But mark what befell within a few days! We heard an outcry that old Seden was missing, and that no one could tell what had become of him. His wife thought he had gone up into the Streckelberg, whereupon the accursed witch ran howling to our house and asked my daughter whether she had not seen anything of her goodman, seeing that she went up the mountain every day. My daughter said she had not; but, woe is me, she was soon to hear enough of him. For one morning, before sunrise, as she came down into the wood on her way back from her forbidden digging after amber, she heard a woodpecker (which, no doubt, was old Lizzie herself), crying so dolefully, close beside her, that she went in among the bushes to see what was the matter. There was the woodpecker, sitting on the ground before a bunch of hair, which was red, and just like what old Seden's had been, and as soon as it espied her it flew up with its beak full of the hair, and slipped into a hollow tree. While my daughter still stood looking at this devil's work, up came old Paasch, who also had heard the cries of the woodpecker, as he was cutting roofing shingles on the mountain, with his boy, and was likewise struck with horror when he saw the hair on the ground. At first they thought a wolf must have eaten him, and searched all about, but could not find a single bone. On looking up they fancied they saw something red at the very top of the tree, so they made the boy climb up, and he forthwith cried out that here, too, there was a great bunch of red hair, stuck to some leaves as if with pitch, but that it was not pitch, but something speckled red and white, like fish-guts; _item_, that the leaves all around, even where there was no hair, were stained and spotted, and had a very ill smell. Hereupon the lad, at his master's bidding, threw down the clotted branch, and they two below straightway judged that this was the hair and brains of old Seden, and that the devil had carried him off bodily, because he would not pray nor give thanks to the Lord for his recovery. I myself believed the same, and told it on the Sunday as a warning to the congregation. But further on it will be seen that the Lord had yet greater cause for giving him into the hands of Satan, inasmuch as he had been talked over by his wicked wife to renounce his Maker, in the hopes of getting better. Now, however, this devil's whore did as if her heart was broken, tearing out her red hair by whole handfuls when she heard about the woodpecker from my child and old Paasch, and bewailing that she was now a poor widow, and who was to take care of her for the future, &c. Meanwhile we celebrated on this barren shore, as best we could and might, together with the whole Protestant Church, the 25th day _mensis Junii_, whereon, one hundred years ago, the Estates of the Holy Roman Empire laid their confession before the most high and mighty Emperor Carolus V., at Augsburg; and I preached a sermon on Matt. x. 32, of the right confession of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, whereupon the whole congregation came to the Sacrament. Now towards the evening of the self-same day, as I walked with my daughter by the sea-shore, we saw several hundred sail of ships, both great and small, round about Ruden, and plainly heard firing, whereupon we judged forthwith that this must be the most high and mighty king Gustavus Adolphus, who was now coming, as he had promised, to the aid of poor persecuted Christendom. While we were still debating a boat sailed towards us from Oie, [Footnote: Ruden and Oie, two small islands between Usedom and Rügen.] wherein was Kate Berow her son, who is a farmer there, and was coming to see his old mother. The same told us that it really was the king, who had this morning run before Ruden with his fleet from Rügen; that a few men of Oie were fishing there at the time, and saw how he went ashore with his officers, and straightway bared his head and fell upon his knees. [Footnote: See also the _Theatrum Europeum_, p. 226 fl.] Thus, then, most gracious God, did I Thy unworthy servant enjoy a still greater happiness and delight that blessed evening than I had done on the blessed morn; and any one may think that I delayed not for a moment to fall on my knees with my child, and to follow the example of the king; and God knows I never in my life prayed so fervently as that evening, whereon the Lord showed such a wondrous sign upon us as to cause the deliverer of His poor Christian people to come among them on the very day when they had everywhere called upon Him, on their knees, for His gracious help against the murderous wiles of the Pope and the devil. That night I could not sleep for joy, but went quite early in the morning to Damerow, where something had befallen Vithe his boy. I supposed that he, too, was bewitched; but this time it was not witchcraft, seeing that the boy had eaten something unwholesome in the forest. He could not tell what kind of berries they were, but the _malum_, which turned all his skin bright scarlet, soon passed over. As I therefore was returning home shortly after, I met a messenger from Peenemünde, whom his Majesty the high and mighty king Gustavus Adolphus had sent to tell the sheriff that on the 29th of June, at ten o'clock in the morning, he was to send three guides to meet his Majesty at Coserow, and to guide him through the woods to Swine, where the Imperialists were encamped. _Item_, he related how his Majesty had taken the fort at Peenemünde yesterday (doubtless the cause of the firing we heard last evening), and that the Imperialists had run away as fast as they could, and played the bush-ranger properly, for after setting their camp on fire they all fled into the woods and coppices, and part escaped to Wolgast and part to Swine. Straightway I resolved in my joy to invent a _carmen gratulatorium_ to his Majesty, whom, by the grace of Almighty God, I was to see, the which my little daughter might present to him. I accordingly proposed it to her as soon as I got home, and she straightway fell on my neck for joy, and then began to dance about the room. But when she had considered a little, she thought her clothes were not good enough to wear before his Majesty, and that I should buy her a blue silk gown, with a yellow apron, seeing that these were the Swedish colours, and would please his Majesty right well. For a long time I would not, seeing that I hate this kind of pride; but she teased me with her kisses and coaxing words, till I, like an old fool, said yes, and ordered my ploughman to drive her over to Wolgast to-day to buy the stuff. Wherefore I think that the just God, who hateth the proud and showeth mercy on the humble, did rightly chastise me for such pride. For I myself felt a sinful pleasure when she came back with two women who were to help her to sew, and laid the stuff before me. Next day she set to work at sunrise to sew, and I composed my _carmen_ the while. I had not got very far in it when the young Lord Rüdiger of Nienkerken came riding up, in order, as he said, to inquire whether his Majesty were indeed going to march through Coserow. And when I told him all I knew of the matter, _item_, informed him of our plan, he praised it exceedingly, and instructed my daughter (who looked more kindly upon him to-day than I altogether liked) how the Swedes use to pronounce the Latin, as _ratscho_ pro _ratio_, _uet_ pro _ut_, _schis_ pro _scis_ &c., so that she might be able to answer his Majesty with all due readiness. He said, moreover, that he had held much converse with Swedes at Wittenberg, as well as at Griepswald, wherefore if she pleased they might act a short _colloquium_, wherein he would play the king. Hereupon he sat down on the bench before her, and they both began chattering together, which vexed me sore, especially when I saw that she made but small haste with her needle the while. But say, dear reader, what was I to do?--Wherefore I went my ways, and let them chatter till near noon, when the young lord at last took leave. But he promised to come again on Tuesday when the king was here, and believed that the whole island would flock together at Coserow. As soon as he was gone, seeing that my _vena poetica_ (as may be easily guessed) was still stopped up, I had the horses put to and drove all over the parish, exhorting the people in every village to be at the Giant's Stone by Coserow at nine o'clock on Tuesday, and that they were all to fall on their knees as soon as they should see the king coming and that I knelt down; _item_, to join at once in singing the Ambrosian hymn of praise, which I should lead off as soon as the bells began to ring. This they all promised to do; and after I had again exhorted them to it on Sunday in church, and prayed to the Lord for his Majesty out of the fulness of my heart, we scarce could await the blessed Tuesday for joyful impatience. CHAPTER XV. _Of the arrival of the high and mighty King Gustavus Adolphus, and what befell thereat._ Meanwhile I finished my _carmen_ in _metrum elegiacum_, which my daughter transcribed (seeing that her handwriting is fairer than mine) and diligently learned, so that she might say it to his Majesty. _Item_, her clothes were gotten ready, and became her purely; and on Monday she went up to the Streckelberg, although the heat was such that the crows gasped on the hedges: for she wanted to gather flowers for a garland she designed to wear, and which was also to be blue and yellow. Towards evening she came home with her apron filled with all manner of flowers; but her hair was quite wet, and hung all matted about her shoulders. (My God, my God, was everything to come together to destroy me, wretched man that I am!) I asked, therefore, where she had been that her hair was so wet and matted; whereupon she answered that she had gathered flowers round the Kölpin, [Footnote: a small lake near the sea.] and from thence she had gone down to the sea-shore, where she had bathed in the sea, seeing that it was very hot and no one could see her. Thus, said she, jesting, she should appear before his Majesty to-morrow doubly a clean maid. This displeased me at the time, and I looked grave, although I said naught. Next morning at six o'clock all the people were already at the Giant's Stone, men, women, and children. _Summa_, everybody that was able to walk was there. At eight o'clock my daughter was already dressed in all her bravery, namely, a blue silken gown, with a yellow apron and kerchief, and a yellow hair-net, with a garland of blue and yellow flowers round her head. It was not long before my young lord arrived, finely dressed as became a nobleman. He wanted to inquire, as he said, by which road I should go up to the Stone with my daughter, seeing that his father, Hans von Nienkerken, _item_, Wittich Appelmann, and the Lepels of Gnitze, were also going, and that there was much people on all the high roads, as though a fair was being held. But I straightway perceived that all he wanted was to see my daughter, inasmuch as he presently occupied himself about her, and began chattering with her in the Latin again. He made her repeat to him the _carmen_ to his Majesty; whereupon he, in the person of the king, answered her, "_Dulcissima et venustissima puella, quæ mihi in coloribus c�li, ut angelus Domini appares, utinam semper mecum esses, nunquam mihi male caderei_;" whereupon she grew red, as likewise did I, but from vexation, as may be easily guessed. I therefore begged that his lordship would but go forward toward the Stone, seeing that my daughter had yet to help me on with my surplice; whereupon, however, he answered, that he would wait for us the while in the chamber, and that we might then go together. _Summa_: I blessed myself from this young lord; but what could I do? As he would not go, I was forced to wink at it all: and before long we went up to the Stone, where I straightway chose three sturdy fellows from the crowd, and sent them up the steeple that they might begin to ring the bells as soon as they should see me get up upon the Stone and wave my napkin. This they promised to do, and straightway departed; whereupon I sat down on the Stone with my daughter, thinking that the young lord would surely stand apart, as became his dignity; albeit he did not, but sat down with us on the Stone. And we three sat there all alone, and all the folk looked at us, but none drew near to see my child's fine clothes, not even the young lasses, as is their wont to do; but this I did not observe till afterwards, when I heard how matters stood with us even then. Towards nine o'clock, Hans von Nienkerken and Wittich Appelmann galloped up, and old Nienkerken called to his son in an angry voice; and seeing that the young lord heard him not, he rode up to the Stone, and cried out so loud that all the folk might hear, "Can'st thou not hearken, boy, when thy father calls thee?" Whereupon Rüdiger followed him in much displeasure, and we saw from a distance how the old lord seemed to threaten his son, and spat out before him; but knew not what this might signify: we were to learn it soon enough, though, more's the pity! Soon after the two Lepels of Gnitze [Footnote: a peninsula in Usedom] came from the Damerow; and the noblemen saluted one another on the green sward close beside us, but without looking on us. And I heard the Lepels say that naught could yet be seen of his Majesty, but that the coast-guard fleet around Ruden was in motion, and that several hundred ships were sailing this way. As soon as this news was known, all the folk ran to the sea-shore (which is but a step from the Stone); and the noblemen rode thither too, all save Wittich, who had dismounted, and who, when he saw that I sent old Paasch his boy up into a tall oak-tree to look out for the king, straightway busied himself about my daughter again, who now sat all alone upon the Stone: "Why had she not taken his huntsman? and whether she would not change her mind on the matter and have him now, or else come into service with him (the sheriff) himself? for that if she would not, he believed she might be sorry for it one day." Whereupon she answered him (as she told me), that there was but one thing she was sorry for, namely, that his lordship would take so much useless pains upon her; whereupon she rose with all haste and came to where I stood under the tree, looking after the lad who was climbing up it. But our old Ilse said that he swore a great curse when my daughter turned her back upon him, and went straightway into the alder-grove close by the high road, where stood the old witch Lizzie Kolken. Meanwhile I went with my daughter to the sea-shore and found it quite true that the whole fleet was sailing over from Ruden and Oie towards Wollin, and several ships passed so close before us that we could see the soldiers standing upon them and the flashing of their arms. _Item_, we heard the horses neigh and the soldiery laugh. On one ship, too, they were drumming, and on another cattle lowed and sheep bleated. Whilst we yet gazed we saw smoke come out from one of the ships, followed by a great noise, and presently we were aware of the ball bounding over the water, which foamed and splashed on either side, and coming straight towards us. Hereupon the crowd ran away on every side with loud cries, and we plainly heard the soldiery in the ships laugh thereat. But the ball flew up and struck into the midst of an oak hard by Paasch his boy, so that nearly two cart-loads of boughs fell to the earth with a great crash, and covered all the road by which his Majesty was to come. Hereupon the boy would stop no longer in the tree, however much I exhorted him thereto, but cried out to us as he came down that a great troop of soldiers was marching out of the forest by Damerow, and that likely enough the king was among them. Hereupon the sheriff ordered the road to be cleared forthwith, and this was some time a-doing, seeing that the thick boughs were stuck fast in the trees all around; the nobles, as soon as all was made ready, would have ridden to meet his Majesty, but stayed still on the little greensward, because we already heard the noise of horses, carriages, and voices close to us in the forest. It was not long before the cannons broke through the brushwood with the three guides seated upon them. And seeing that one of them was known to me (it was Stoffer Krauthahn, of Peenemünde), I drew near and begged him that he would tell me when the king should come. But he answered that he was going forward with the cannon to Coserow, and that I was only to watch for a tall dark man, with a hat and feather and a gold chain round his neck, for that that was the king, and that he rode next after the great standard whereon was a yellow lion. Wherefore I narrowly watched the procession as it wound out of the forest. And next after the artillery came the Finnish and Lapland bowmen, who went clothed all in furs, although it was now the height of summer, whereat I greatly wondered. After these there came much people, but I know not what they were. Presently I espied over the hazel-tree which stood in my way, so that I could not see everything as soon as it came forth out of the coppice, the great flag with the lion on it, and, behind that, the head of a very dark man with a golden chain round his neck, whereupon straightway I judged this must be the king. I therefore waved my napkin toward the steeple, whereupon the bells forthwith rang out, and while the dark man rode nearer to us, I pulled off my skull-cap, fell upon my knees, and led the Ambrosian hymn of praise, and all the people plucked their hats from their heads and knelt down on the ground all around singing after me; men, women, and children, save only the nobles, who stood still on the greensward, and did not take off their hats and behave with attention until they saw that his Majesty drew in his horse. (It was a coal-black charger, and stopped with its two forefeet right upon my field, which I took as a sign of good fortune.) When we had finished, the sheriff quickly got off his horse, and would have approached the king with his three guides who followed after him; _item_, I had taken my child by the hand, and would also have drawn near to the king. Howbeit, his Majesty motioned away the sheriff and beckoned us to approach, whereupon I wished his Majesty joy in the Latin tongue, and extolled his magnanimous heart, seeing that he had deigned to visit German ground for the protection and aid of poor persecuted Christendom; and praised it as a sign from God that such had happened on this the highest festival of our poor Church, and I prayed his Majesty graciously to receive what my daughter desired to present to him; whereupon his Majesty looked on her and smiled pleasantly. Such gracious bearing made her bold again, albeit she trembled visibly just before, and she reached him a blue and yellow wreath whereon lay the _carmen_, saying, "_Accipe hanc vilem coronam et hæc_," whereupon she began to recite the _carmen_. Meanwhile his Majesty grew more and more gracious, looking now on her and now on the _carmen_, and nodded with especial kindness towards the end, which was as follows:-- "Tempus erit, quo tu reversus ab hostibus ultor Intrabis patriæ libera regna meæ; Tune meliora student nostræ tibi carmina musæ, Tunc tua, maxime rex, Martia facta canam. Tu modo versiculis ne spernas vilibus ausum Auguror et res est ista futura brevi! Sis f�lix, fortisque diu, vive optlme princeps, Omnia, et ut possis vincere, dura. Vale!" [Footnote: Thou shall return chastier of the foe, To the freed kingdoms of my native land! Then shall our song with loftier cadence flow, Boasting the deeds of thy heroic hand! Scorn not, meanwhile, the feeble lines which thus Thy future glory and success foretell. Live, prince beloved! be brave, be prosperous; Conquer, howe'er opposed,--and fare thee well!] As soon as she held her peace his Majesty said, "_Propius accedas, patria virgo, ut te osculer_;" whereupon she drew near to his horse, blushing deeply. I thought he would only have kissed her forehead, as potentates commonly use to do; but not at all, he kissed her lips with a loud smack, and the long feathers on his hat drooped over her neck, so that I was quite afraid for her again. But he soon raised up his head, and taking off his gold chain, whereon dangled his own effigy, he hung it round my child's neck with these words, "_Hocce tuæ pulchritudini! et si favente Deo redux fuero victor, promissum carmen et præterea duo oscula exspecto_." Hereupon the sheriff, with his three men, again came forward and bowed down to the ground before his Majesty. But as he knew no Latin, _item_, no Italian nor French, I had to act as interpreter. For his Majesty inquired how far it was to Swine, and whether there was still much foreign soldiery there? And the sheriff thought there were still about 200 Croats in the camp. Whereupon his Majesty spurred on his horse, and, nodding graciously, cried "_Valete_!" And now came the rest of the troops, about 3000 strong, out of the coppice, which likewise had a valiant bearing, and attempted no fooleries, as troops are wont to do, when they passed by us and the women, but marched on in honest quietness, and we followed the train until the forest beyond Coserow, where we commended it to the care of the Almighty, and every one went on his way home. CHAPTER XVI. _How little Mary Paasch was sorely plagued of the devil, and the whole parish fell off from me._ Before I proceed any further, I will first mark that the illustrious king Gustavus Adolphus, as we presently heard, had cut down the 300 Croats at Swine, and was thence gone by sea to Stettin. May God be for ever gracious to him! Amen. But my sorrows increased from day to day, seeing that the devil now played pranks such as he never had played before. I had begun to think that the ears of God had hearkened to our ardent prayers, but it pleased Him to try us yet more hardly than ever. For, a few days after the arrival of the most illustrious king Gustavus Adolphus, it was bruited about that my child her little god-daughter was possessed of the evil one, and tumbled about most piteously on her bed, insomuch that no one was able to hold her. My child straightway went to see her little god-daughter, but presently came weeping home. Old Paasch would not suffer her even to come near her, but railed at her very angrily, and said that she should never come within his doors again, as his child had got the mischief from the white roll which she had given her that morning. It was true that my child had given her a roll, seeing that the maid had been, the day before, to Wolgast, and had brought back a napkin full of them. Such news vexed me sore, and after putting on my cassock I went to old Paasch his house, to exorcise the foul fiend, and to remove such disgrace from my child. I found the old man standing on the floor by the cockloft steps, weeping; and after I had spoken "The peace of God," I asked him first of all, whether he really believed that his little Mary had been bewitched by means of the roll which my child had given her? He said "Yes!" And when I answered, That in that case I also must have been bewitched, _item_, Pagel his little girl, seeing that we both had eaten of the rolls, he was silent, and asked me with a sigh, whether I would not go into the room, and see for myself how matters stood. I then entered with "The peace of God," and found six people standing round little Mary her bed; her eyes were shut, and she was as stiff as a board; wherefore Kit Wels (who was a young and sturdy fellow) seized the little child by one leg, and held her out like a hedge-stake, so that I might see how the devil plagued her. I now said a prayer, and Satan, perceiving that a servant of Christ was come, began to tear the child so fearfully that it was pitiful to behold; for she flung about her hands and feet, so that four strong men were scarce able to hold her; _item_, she was afflicted with extraordinary risings and fallings of her belly, as if a living creature were therein, so that at last the old witch Lizzie Kolken sat herself upon her belly, whereupon the child seemed to be somewhat better, and I told her to repeat the Apostles' Creed, so as to see whether it really were the devil who possessed her. [Footnote: It was imagined in those fearful times that when the sick person could repeat the three articles of belief, and especially some passages from the Bible bearing particular reference to the work of redemption, he was not possessed, since "no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost" (I Cor, xii. 3).] She straightway grew worse than before, and began to gnash her teeth, to roll her eyes, and to strike so hard with her hands and feet that she flung her father, who held one of her legs, right into the middle of the room, and then struck her foot so hard against the bedstead that the blood flowed, and Lizzie Kolken was thrown about on her belly, as though she had been in a swing. And as I ceased not, but exorcised Satan that he should leave her, she began to howl and to bark like a dog, _item_, to laugh, and spoke at last, with a gruff bass voice like an old man's, "I will not depart." But he should soon have been forced to depart out of her, had not both father and mother besought me, by God's holy Sacrament, to leave their poor child in peace, seeing that nothing did her any good, but rather made her worse. I was therefore forced to desist, and only admonished the parents to seek for help like the Canaanitish woman, in true repentance and incessant prayer, and with her to sigh in constant faith, "Have mercy upon me, O Lord, thou son of David, my daughter is grievously vexed of a devil" (Matt. xv.); that the heart of our Lord would then melt, so that He would have mercy on their child, and command Satan to depart from her. _Item_, I promised to pray for the little child on the following Sunday with the whole congregation, and told them to bring her, if it were any ways possible, to the church, seeing that the ardent prayer of the whole congregation has power to rise beyond the clouds. This they promised to do, and I then went home sorely troubled, where I soon learned that she was somewhat better; thus it still is sure that Satan hates nothing so much, after the Lord Jesus, as the servants of the Gospel. But wait, and I shall even yet "bruise thy head with my heel" (Gen. iii.); naught shall avail thee. Howbeit, before the blessed Sunday came I perceived that many of my people went out of my way, both in the village and elsewhere in the parish, where I went to visit sundry sick folks. When I went to Uekeritze to see young Tittelwitz, there even befell me as follows. Claus Pieper the peasant stood in his yard chopping wood, and on seeing me he flung the axe out of his hand so hastily that it stuck in the ground, and he ran towards the pig-stye, making the sign of the cross. I motioned him to stop, and asked why he thus ran from me his confessor? Whether, peradventure, he also believed that my daughter had bewitched her little godchild? _Ille_. Yes, he believed it, because the whole parish did. _Ego_. Why, then, had she been so kind to her formerly, and kept her like a sister, through the worst of the famine? _Ille_. This was not the only mischief she had done. _Ego_. What, then, had she done besides? _Ille_. That was all one to me. _Ego_. He should tell me, or I would complain to the magistrate. _Ille_. That I might do, if I pleased. Whereupon he went his way insolently. Any one may guess that I was not slow to inquire everywhere, what people thought my daughter had done; but no one would tell me anything, and I might have grieved to death at such evil reports. Moreover, not one child came during this whole week to school to my daughter; and when I sent out the maid to ask the reason, she brought back word that the children were ill, or that the parents wanted them for their work. I thought and thought, but all to no purpose, until the blessed Sunday came round, when I meant to have held a great Sacrament, seeing that many people had made known their intention to come to the Lord's Table. It seemed strange to me that I saw no one standing, as was their wont, about the church door; I thought, however, that they might have gone into the houses. But when I went into the church with my daughter, there were not more than six people assembled, among whom was old Lizzie Kolken; and the accursed witch no sooner saw my daughter follow me, than she made the sign of the cross and ran out of the door under the steeple; whereupon the five others, among them mine own churchwarden Claus Bulken (I had not appointed any one in the room of old Seden), followed her. I was so horror-struck that my blood curdled, and I began to tremble, so that I fell with my shoulder against the confessional. My child, to whom I had as yet told nothing, in order to spare her, then asked me, "Father, what is the matter with all the people? are they, too, bewitched?" Whereupon I came to myself again, and went into the churchyard to look after them. But all were gone save my churchwarden Claus Bulken, who stood under the lime-tree whistling to himself. I stepped up to him, and asked what had come to the people? whereupon he answered, he could not tell; and when I asked him again, why, then, he himself had left the church, he said, What was he to do there alone, seeing that no collection could be made? I then implored him to tell me the truth, and what horrid suspicion had arisen against me in the parish? But he answered, I should very soon find it out for myself; and he jumped over the wall and went into old Lizzie her house, which stands close by the churchyard. My child had made ready some veal broth for dinner, for which I mostly use to leave everything else; but I could not swallow one spoonful, but sat resting my head on my hand, and doubted whether I should tell her or no. Meanwhile the old maid came in, ready for a journey, and with a bundle in her hand, and begged me with tears to give her leave to go. My poor child turned pale as a corpse, and asked in amaze what had come to her? but she merely answered, "Nothing!" and wiped her eyes with her apron. When I recovered my speech, which had well-nigh left me at seeing that this faithful old creature was also about to forsake me, I began to question her why she wished to go; she who had dwelt with me so long, and who would not forsake us even in the great famine, but had faithfully borne up against it, and indeed had humbled me by her faith, and had exhorted me to stand out gallantly to the last, for which I should be grateful to her as long as I lived. Hereupon she merely wept and sobbed yet more, and at length brought out that she still had an old mother of eighty, living in Liepe, and that she wished to go and nurse her till her end. Hereupon my daughter jumped up, and answered with tears, "Alas, old Ilse, why wilt thou leave us, for thy mother is with thy brother! Do but tell me why thou wilt forsake me, and what harm have I done thee, that I may make it good to thee again." But she hid her face in her apron, and sobbed, and could not get out a single word; whereupon my child drew away the apron from her face, and would have stroked her cheeks, to make her speak. But when Ilse saw this she struck my poor child's hand, and cried "Ugh!" spat out before her, and straightway went out at the door. Such a thing she had never done even when my child was a little girl, and we were both so shocked that we could neither of us say a word. Before long my poor child gave a loud cry, and cast herself upon the bench, weeping and wailing, "What has happened, what has happened?" I therefore thought I ought to tell her what I had heard, namely, that she was looked upon as a witch. Whereat she began to smile instead of weeping any more, and ran out of the door to overtake the maid, who had already left the house, as we had seen. She returned after an hour crying out that all the people in the village had run away from her, when she would have asked them whither the maid was gone. _Item_, the little children, for whom she had kept school, had screamed, and had hidden themselves from her: also no one would answer her a single word, but all spat out before her, as the maid had done. On her way home she had seen a boat on the water, and had run as fast as she could to the shore, and called with might and main after old Ilse, who was in the boat. But she had taken no notice of her, not even once to look round after her, but had motioned her to be gone. And now she went on to weep and to sob the whole day and the whole night, so that I was more miserable than even in the time of the great famine. But the worst was yet to come, as will be shown in the following chapter. CHAPTER XVII. _How my poor child was taken up for a witch, and carried to Pudgla._ The next day, Monday, the 12th July, at about eight in the morning, while we sat in our grief, wondering who could have prepared such great sorrow for us, and speedily agreed that it could be none other than the accursed witch Lizzie Kolken, a coach with four horses drove quickly up to the door, wherein sat six fellows, who straightway all jumped out. Two went and stood at the front, two at the back door, and two more, one of whom was the constable Jacob Knake, came into the room, and handed me a warrant from the sheriff for the arrest of my daughter, as in common repute of being a wicked witch, and for her examination before the criminal court. Any one may guess how my heart sunk within me when I read this. I dropped to the earth like a felled tree, and when I came to myself my child had thrown herself upon me with loud cries, and her hot tears ran down over my face. When she saw that I came to myself, she began to praise God therefore with a loud voice, and essayed to comfort me, saying that she was innocent, and should appear with a clean conscience before her judges. _Item_, she repeated to me the beautiful text from Matthew, chap. v.: "Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for My sake." And she begged me to rise and to throw my cassock over my doublet, and go with her, for that without me she would not suffer herself to be carried before the sheriff. Meanwhile, however, all the village--men, women, and children--had thronged together before my door; but they remained quiet, and only peeped in at the windows as though they would have looked right through the house. When we had both made us ready, and the constable, who at first would not take me with them, had thought better of it, by reason of a good fee which my daughter gave him, we walked to the coach; but I was so helpless that I could not get up into it. Old Paasch, when he saw this, came and helped me up into the coach, saying, "God comfort ye! Alas, that you should ever see your child come to this!" and he kissed my hand to take leave. A few others came up to the coach, and would have done likewise; but I besought them not to make my heart still heavier, and to take Christian charge of my house and my affairs until I should return. Also to pray diligently for me and my daughter, so that the evil one, who had long gone about our village like a roaring lion, and who now threatened to devour me, might not prevail against us, but might be forced to depart from me and from my child as from our guileless Saviour in the wilderness. But to this none answered a word; and I heard right well, as we drove away, that many spat out after us, and one said (my child thought it was Berow her voice), "We would far sooner lay fire under thy coats than pray for thee." We were still sighing over such words as these, when we came near to the churchyard, and there sat the accursed witch Lizzie Kolken at the door of her house with her hymn-book in her lap, screeching out at the top of her voice, "God the Father, dwell with us," as we drove past her: the which vexed my poor child so sore that she swooned, and fell like one dead upon me. I begged the driver to stop, and called to old Lizzie to bring us a pitcher of water; but she did as though she had not heard me, and went on to sing so that it rang again. Whereupon the constable jumped down, and at my request ran back to my house to fetch a pitcher of water; and he presently came back with it, and the people after him, who began to say aloud that my child's bad conscience had stricken her, and that she had now betrayed herself. Wherefore I thanked God when she came to life again, and we could leave the village. But at Uekeritze it was just the same, for all the people had flocked together, and were standing on the green before Labahn his house when we went by. Nevertheless, they were quiet enough as we drove past, albeit some few cried, "How can it be, how can it be?" I heard nothing else. But in the forest near the watermill the miller and all his men ran out and shouted, laughing, "Look at the witch, look at the witch!" Whereupon one of the men struck at my poor child with the sack which he held in his hand, so that she turned quite white, and the flour flew all about the coach like a cloud. When I rebuked him, the wicked rogue laughed and said, That if no other smoke than that ever came under her nose, so much the better for her. _Item_, it was worse in Pudgla than even at the mill. The people stood so thick on the hill, before the castle, that we could scarce force our way through, and the sheriff caused the death-bell in the castle tower to toll as an _avisum_. Whereupon more and more people came running out of the ale-houses and cottages. Some cried out, "Is that the witch?" Others, again, "Look at the parson's witch! the parson's witch!" and much more, which for very shame I may not write. They scraped up the mud out of the gutter which ran from the castle kitchen and threw it upon us; _item_, a great stone, the which struck one of the horses so that it shied, and belike would have upset the coach had not a man sprung forward and held it in. All this happened before the castle gates, where the sheriff stood smiling and looking on, with a heron's feather stuck in his grey hat. But so soon as the horse was quiet again he came to the coach and mocked at my child, saying, "See, young maid, thou wouldest not come to me, and here thou art nevertheless!" Whereupon she answered, "Yea, I come; and may you one day come before your Judge as I come before you;" whereunto I said, Amen, and asked him how his lordship could answer before God and man for what he had done to a wretched man like myself and to my child? But he answered, saying, Why had I come with her? And when I told him of the rude people here, _item_, of the churlish miller's man, he said that it was not his fault, and threatened the people all around with his fist, for they were making a great noise. Thereupon he commanded my child to get down and to follow him, and went before her into the castle; motioned the constable, who would have gone with them, to stay at the foot of the steps, and began to mount the winding staircase to the upper rooms alone with my child. But she whispered me privately, "Do not leave me, father;" and I presently followed softly after them. Hearing by their voices in which chamber they were, I laid my ear against the door to listen. And the villain offered to her that if she would love him naught should harm her, saying he had power to save her from the people; but that if she would not, she should go before the court next day, and she might guess herself how it would fare with her, seeing that he had many witnesses to prove that she had played the wanton with Satan, and had suffered him to kiss her. Hereupon she was silent, and only sobbed, which the arch rogue took as a good sign, and went on, "If you have had Satan himself for a sweetheart, you surely may love me." And he went to her and would have taken her in his arms, as I perceived; for she gave a loud scream, and flew to the door; but he held her fast, and begged and threatened as the devil prompted him. I was about to go in when I heard her strike him in the face, saying, "Get thee behind me, Satan," so that he let her go. Whereupon she ran out at the door so suddenly that she threw me on the ground, and fell upon me with a loud cry. Hereat the sheriff, who had followed her, started, but presently cried out, "Wait, thou prying parson, I will teach thee to listen!" and ran out and beckoned to the constable who stood on the steps below. He bade him first shut me up in one dungeon, seeing that I was an eavesdropper, and then return and thrust my child into another. But he thought better of it when he had come half way down the winding-stair, and said he would excuse me this time, and that the constable might let me go, and only lock up my child very fast, and bring the key to him, seeing she was a stubborn person, as he had seen at the very first hearing which he had given her. Hereupon my poor child was torn from me, and I fell in a swound upon the steps. I know not how I got down them; but when I came to myself, I was in the constable his room, and his wife was throwing water in my face. There I passed the night sitting in a chair, and sorrowed more than I prayed, seeing that my faith was greatly shaken, and the Lord came not to strengthen it. CHAPTER XVIII. _Of the first trial, and what came thereof._ Next morning, as I walked up and down in the court, seeing that I had many times asked the constable in vain to lead me to my child (he would not even tell me where she lay), and for very disquietude I had at last begun to wander about there; about six o'clock there came a coach from Uzdom, [Footnote: Or Usedom, a small town which gives its name to the whole island.] wherein sat his worship, Master Samuel Pieper, _consul dirigens_, _item_, the _camerarius_ Gebhard Wenzel, and a _scriba_, whose name, indeed, I heard, but have forgotten it again; and my daughter forgot it too, albeit in other things she has an excellent memory, and, indeed, told me most of what follows, for my old head well-nigh burst, so that I myself could remember but little. I straightway went up to the coach, and begged that the worshipful court would suffer me to be present at the trial, seeing that my daughter was yet in her nonage, but which the sheriff, who meanwhile had stepped up to the coach from the terrace, whence he had seen all, had denied me. But his worship Master Samuel Pieper, who was a little round man, with a fat paunch, and a beard mingled with grey hanging down to his middle, reached me his hand, and condoled with me like a Christian in my trouble: I might come into court in God's name; and he wished with all his heart that all whereof my daughter was fyled might prove to be foul lies. Nevertheless I had still to wait full two hours before their worships came down the winding stair again. At last towards nine o'clock I heard the constable moving about the chairs and benches in the judgment chamber; and as I conceived that the time was now come, I went in and sat myself down on a bench. No one, however, was yet there, save the constable and his young daughter, who was wiping the table, and held a rosebud between her lips. I was fain to beg her to give it me, so that I might have it to smell to; and I believe that I should have been carried dead out of the room that day if I had not had it. God is thus able to preserve our lives even by means of a poor flower, if so He wills it! At length their worships came in and sat round the table, whereupon _Dom. Consul_ motioned the constable to fetch in my child. Meanwhile he asked the sheriff whether he had put _Rea_ in chains, and when he said No, he gave him such a reprimand that it went through my very marrow. But the sheriff excused himself, saying that he had not done so from regard to her quality, but had locked her up in so fast a dungeon, that she could not possibly escape therefrom. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ answered that much is possible to the devil, and that they would have to answer for it should _Rea_ escape. This angered the sheriff, and he replied that if the devil could convey her through walls seven feet thick, and through three doors, he could very easily break her chains too. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ said that hereafter he would look at the prison himself; and I think that the sheriff had been so kind only because he yet hoped (as, indeed, will hereafter be shown) to talk over my daughter to let him have his will of her. And now the door opened, and my poor child came in with the constable, but walking backwards, [Footnote: This ridiculous proceeding always took place at the first examination of a witch, as it was imagined that she would otherwise bewitch the judges with her looks. On this occasion indeed such an event was not unlikely.] and without her shoes, the which she was forced to leave without. The fellow had seized her by her long hair, and thus dragged her up to the table, when first she was to turn round and look upon her judges. He had a vast deal to say in the matter, and was in every way a bold and impudent rogue, as will soon be shown. After _Dom. Consul_ had heaved a deep sigh, and gazed at her from head to foot, he first asked her her name, and how old she was; _item_, if she knew why she was summoned before them? On the last point she answered that the sheriff had already told her father the reason; that she wished not to wrong any one, but thought that the sheriff himself had brought upon her the repute of a witch, in order to gain her to his wicked will. Hereupon she told all his ways with her, from the very first, and how he would by all means have had her for his housekeeper; and that when she would not (although he had many times come himself to her father his house), one day, as he went out of the door, he had muttered in his beard, "I will have her, despite of all!" which their servant Claus Neels had heard, as he stood in the stable; and he had also sought to gain his ends by means of an ungodly woman, one Lizzie Kolken, who had formerly been in his service; that this woman, belike, had contrived the spells which they laid to her charge: she herself knew nothing of witchcraft; _item_, she related what the sheriff had done to her the evening before, when she had just come, and when he for the first time spoke out plainly, thinking that she was then altogether in his power: nay, more, that he had come to her that very night again, in her dungeon, and had made her the same offers, saying that he would set her free if she would let him have his will of her; and that when she denied him, he had struggled with her, whereupon she had screamed aloud, and had scratched him across the nose, as might yet be seen, whereupon he had left her; wherefore she would not acknowledge the sheriff as her judge, and trusted in God to save her from the hand of her enemies, as of old He had saved the chaste Susannah. When she now held her peace amid loud sobs, _Dom. Consul_ started up after he had looked, as we all did, at the sheriff's nose, and had in truth espied the scar upon it, and cried out in amaze, "Speak, for God His sake, speak, what is this that I hear of your lordship?" Whereupon the sheriff, without changing colour, answered, that although, indeed, he was not called upon to say anything to their worships, seeing that he was the head of the court, and that _Rea_, as appeared from numberless _indicia_, was a wicked witch, and therefore could not bear witness against him or any one else; he, nevertheless, would speak, so as to give no cause of scandal to the court; that all the charges brought against him by this person were foul lies; it was, indeed, true, that he would have hired her for a housekeeper, whereof he stood greatly in need, seeing that his old Dorothy was already growing infirm; it was also true that he had yesterday questioned her in private, hoping to get her to confess by fair means, whereby her sentence would be softened, inasmuch as he had pity on her great youth; but that he had not said one naughty word to her, nor had he been to her in the night; and that it was his little lap-dog, called Below, which had scratched him, while he played with it that very morning; that his old Dorothy could bear witness to this, and that the cunning witch had only made use of this wile to divide the court against itself, thereby, and with the devil's help, to gain her own advantage, inasmuch as she was a most cunning creature, as the court would soon find out. Hereupon I plucked up a heart, and declared that all my daughter had said was true, and that the evening before I myself had heard, through the door, how his lordship had made offers to her, and would have done wantonness with her; _item_, that he had already sought to kiss her once at Coserow; _item_, the troubles which his lordship had formerly brought upon me in the matter of the first-fruits. Howbeit the sheriff presently talked me down, saying, that if I had slandered him, an innocent man, in church, from the pulpit, as the whole congregation could bear witness, I should doubtless find it easy to do as much here, before the court; not to mention that a father could, in no case, be a witness for his own child. But _Dom. Consul_ seemed quite confounded, and was silent, and leaned his head on the table, as in deep thought. Meanwhile the impudent constable began to finger his beard from under his arm; and _Dom. Consul_, thinking it was a fly, struck at him with his hand, without even looking up; but when he felt the constable his hand, he jumped up and asked him what he wanted? whereupon the fellow answered, "Oh, only a louse was creeping there, and I would have caught it." At such impudence his worship was so exceeding wroth that he struck the constable on the mouth, and ordered him, on pain of heavy punishment, to leave the room. Hereupon he turned to the sheriff, and cried angrily, "Why, in the name of all the ten devils, is it thus your lordship keeps the constable in order? and truly, in this whole matter there is something which passes my understanding." But the sheriff answered, "Not so; should you not understand it all when you think upon the eels?" Hereat _Dom. Consul_ of a sudden turned ghastly pale, and began to tremble, as it appeared to me, and called the sheriff aside into another chamber. I have never been able to learn what that about the eels could mean. Meanwhile _Dominus Camerarius_ Gebhard Wenzel sat biting his pen and looking furiously--now at me, and now at my child, but said not a word; neither did he answer _Scriba_, who often whispered somewhat into his ear, save by a growl. At length both their worships came back into the chamber together, and _Dom. Consul_, after he and the sheriff had seated themselves, began to reproach my poor child violently, saying that she had sought to make a disturbance in the worshipful court; that his lordship had shown him the very dog which had scratched his nose, and that, moreover, the fact had been sworn to by the old housekeeper. (Truly _she_ was not likely to betray him, for the old harlot had lived with him for years, and she had a good big boy by him, as will be seen hereafter.) _Item_, he said that so many _indicia_ of her guilt had come to light, that it was impossible to believe anything she might say; she was therefore to give glory to God, and openly to confess everything, so as to soften her punishment; whereby she might perchance, in pity for her youth, escape with life, &c. Hereupon he put his spectacles on his nose, and began to cross-question her, during near four hours, from a paper which he held in his hand. These were the main articles, as far as we both can remember: _Quæstio_. Whether she could bewitch?--_Responsio_. No; she knew nothing of witchcraft. _Q_. Whether she could charm?--_R_. Of that she knew as little. _Q_. Whether she had ever been on the Blocksberg?--_R_. That was too far off for her; she knew few hills save the Streckelberg, where she had been very often. _Q_. What had she done there?--_R_. She had looked out over the sea, or gathered flowers; _item_, at times carried home an apronful of dry brushwood. _Q_. Whether she had ever called upon the devil there?--_R_. That had never come into her mind. _Q_. Whether, then, the devil had appeared to her there, uncalled?--R. God defend her from such a thing. _Q_. So she could not bewitch?--_R_. No. _Q_. What, then, befell Kit Zuter his spotted cow, that it suddenly died in her presence?--_R_. She did not know; and that was a strange question. _Q_.. Then it would be as strange a question, why Katie Berow her little pig had died?--_R_. Assuredly; she wondered what they would lay to her charge. _Q_. Then she had not bewitched them?--_R_. No; God forbid it. _Q_. Why, then, if she were innocent, had she promised old Katie another little pig, when her sow should litter?--_R_. She did that out of kind-heartedness. (And hereupon she began to weep bitterly, and said she plainly saw that she had to thank old Lizzie Kolken for all this, inasmuch as she had often threatened her when she would not fulfil all her greedy desires, for she wanted everything that came in her way; moreover, that Lizzie had gone all about the village when the cattle were bewitched, persuading the people that if only a pure maid pulled a few hairs out of the beasts' tails they would get better. That she pitied them, and knowing herself to be a maid, went to help them; and indeed, at first it cured them, but latterly not.) _Q_. What cattle had she cured?--_R_. Zabel his red cow; _item_, Witthan her pig, and old Lizzie's own cow. _Q_. Why could she afterwards cure them no more?--_R_. She did not know, but thought-albeit she had no wish to fyle any one--that old Lizzie Kolken, who for many a long year had been in common repute as a witch, had done it all, and bewitched the cows in her name and then charmed them back again, as she pleased, only to bring her to misfortune. _Q_. Why, then, had old Lizzie bewitched her own cow, _item_, suffered her own pig to die, if it was she that had made all the disturbance in the village, and could really charm?--_R_. She did not know; but belike there was some one (and here she looked at the sheriff) who paid her double for it all. _Q_. It was in vain that she sought to shift the guilt from off herself; had she not bewitched old Paasch his crop, nay, even her own father's, and caused it to be trodden down by the devil, _item_, conjured all the caterpillars into her father's orchard?--_R_. The question was almost as monstrous as the deed would have been. There sat her father, and his worship might ask him whether she ever had shown herself an undutiful child to him. (Hereupon I would have risen to speak, but _Dom. Consul_ suffered me not to open my mouth, but went on with his examination; whereupon I remained silent and downcast.) _Q_. Whether she did likewise deny that it was through her malice that the woman Witthan had given birth to a devil's imp, which straightway started up and flew out at the window, so that when the midwife sought for it it had disappeared?--_R_. Truly she did; and indeed she had all the days of her life done good to the people instead of harm, for during the terrible famine she had often taken the bread out of her own mouth to share it among the others, especially the little children. To this the whole parish must needs bear witness, if they were asked; whereas witches and warlocks always did evil and no good to men, as our Lord Jesus taught (Matt. xii.), when the Pharisees blasphemed Him, saying that He cast out devils by Beelzebub the prince of the devils; hence his worship might see whether she could in truth be a witch. _Q_. He would soon teach her to talk of blasphemies; he saw that her tongue was well hung; but she must answer the questions he asked her, and say nothing more. The question was not what good she had done to the poor, but _wherewithal_ she had done it? She must now show how she and her father had of a sudden grown so rich that she could go pranking about in silken raiment, whereas she used to be so very poor? Hereupon she looked towards me, and said, "Father, shall I tell?" Whereupon I answered, "Yes, my child, now thou must openly tell all, even though we thereby become beggars." She accordingly told how, when our need was sorest, she had found the amber, and how much we had gotten for it from the Dutch merchants. _Q_. What were the names of these merchants?--_R_. Dieterich von Pehnen and Jakob Kiekebusch; but, as we have heard from a schipper, they since died of the plague at Stettin. _Q_. Why had we said nothing of such a godsend?--_R_. Out of fear of our enemy the sheriff, who, as it seemed, had condemned us to die of hunger, inasmuch as he forbade the parishioners, under pain of heavy displeasure, to supply us with anything, saying that he would soon send them a better parson. Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again looked the sheriff sharply in the face, who answered that it was true he had said this, seeing that the parson had preached at him in the most scandalous manner from the pulpit; but that he knew very well, at the time, that they were far enough from dying of hunger. _Q_. How came so much amber on the Streckelberg? She had best confess at once that the devil had brought it to her.--_R_. She knew nothing about that. But there was a great vein of amber there, as she could show to them all that very day; and she had broken out the amber, and covered the hole well over with fir-twigs, so that none should find it. _Q_. When had she gone up the Streckelberg; by day or by night?--_R_. Hereupon she blushed, and for a moment held her peace; but presently made answer, "Sometimes by day, and sometimes by night." _Q_. Why did she hesitate? She had better make a full confession of all, so that her punishment might be less heavy. Had she not there given over old Seden to Satan, who had carried him off through the air, and left only a part of his hair and brains sticking to the top of an oak?--_R_. She did not know whether that was his hair and brains at all, nor how it came there. She went to the tree one morning because she heard a woodpecker cry so dolefully. _Item_, old Paasch, who also had heard the cries, came up with his axe in his hand. _Q_. Whether the woodpecker was not the devil himself, who had carried off old Seden?--_R_. She did not know: but he must have been dead some time, seeing that the blood and brains which the lad fetched down out of the tree were quite dried up. _Q_. How and when, then, had he come by his death?--_R_. That Almighty God only knew. But Zuter his little girl had said that one day, while she gathered nettles for the cows under Seden his hedge, she heard the goodman threaten his squint-eyed wife that he would tell the parson that he now knew of a certainty that she had a familiar spirit; whereupon the goodman had presently disappeared. But that this was a child's tale, and she would fyle no one on the strength of it. Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again looked the sheriff steadily in the face, and said, "Old Lizzie Kolken must be brought before us this very day:" whereto the sheriff made no answer; and he went on to ask-- _Q_. Whether, then, she still maintained that she knew nothing of the devil?--_R_. She maintained it now, and would maintain it until her life's end. _Q_. And nevertheless, as had been seen by witnesses, she had been re-baptized by him in the sea in broad daylight.--Here again she blushed, and for a moment was silent. _Q_. Why did she blush again? She should for God His sake think on her salvation, and confess the truth.--_R_. She had bathed herself in the sea, seeing that the day was very hot; that was the whole truth. _Q_. What chaste maiden would ever bathe in the sea? Thou liest; or wilt thou even yet deny that thou didst bewitch old Paasch his little girl with a white roll?--_R_. Alas! alas! she loved the child as though it were her own little sister; not only had she taught her as well as all the other children without reward, but during the heavy famine she had often taken the bit from her own mouth to put it into the little child's. How then could she have wished to do her such grievous harm? _Q_. Wilt thou even yet deny? Reverend Abraham, how stubborn is your child! See here, is this no witches' salve, [Footnote: It was believed that the devil gave the witches a salve, by the use of which they made themselves invisible, changed themselves into animals, flew through the air, &c.] which the constable fetched out of thy coffer last night? Is this no witches' salve, eh?--_R_. It was a salve for the skin, which would make it soft and white, as the apothecary at Wolgast had told her, of whom she bought it. _Q_. Hereupon he shook his head, and went on: How! wilt thou then lastly deny that on this last Saturday the 10th July, at twelve o'clock at night, thou didst on the Streckelberg call upon thy paramour the devil in dreadful words, whereupon he appeared to thee in the shape of a great hairy giant, and clipped thee and toyed with thee? At these words she grew more pale than a corpse, and tottered so that she was forced to hold by a chair; and I, wretched man, who would readily have sworn away my life for her, when I saw and heard this, my senses forsook me, so that I fell down from the bench, and _Dom. Consul_ had to call in the constable to help me up. When I had come to myself a little, and the impudent varlet saw our common consternation, he cried out, grinning at the court the while, "Is it all out? is it all out? has she confessed?" Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ again showed him the door with a sharp rebuke, as might have been expected; and it is said that this knave played the pimp for the sheriff, and indeed I think he would not otherwise have been so bold. _Summa_: I should well-nigh have perished in my distress, but for the little rose, which by the help of God's mercy kept me up bravely; and now the whole court rose and exhorted my poor fainting child, by the living God, and as she would save her soul, to deny no longer, but in pity to herself and her father to confess the truth. Hereupon she heaved a deep sigh, and grew as red as she had been pale before, insomuch that even her hand upon the chair was like scarlet, and she did not raise her eyes from the ground. _R_. She would now then confess the simple truth, as she saw right well that wicked people had stolen after and watched her at nights. That she had been to seek for amber on the mountain, and that to drive away fear she had, as she was wont to do at her work, recited the Latin _carmen_ which her father had made on the illustrious king Gustavus Adolphus: when young Rüdiger of Nienkerken, who had ofttimes been at her father's house and talked of love to her, came out of the coppice, and when she cried out for fear, spoke to her in Latin, and clasped her in his arms. That he wore a great wolf's-skin coat, so that folks should not know him if they met him, and tell the lord his father that he had been on the mountain by night. At this her confession I fell into sheer despair, and cried in great wrath, "O thou ungodly and undutiful child, after all, then, thou hast a paramour! Did not I forbid thee to go up the mountain by night? What didst thou want on the mountain by night?" and I began to moan and weep and wring my hands, so that _Dom. Consul_ even had pity on me, and drew near to comfort me. Meanwhile she herself came towards me, and began to defend herself, saying, with many tears, that she had gone up the mountain by night, against my commands, to get so much amber that she might secretly buy for me, against my birthday, the _Opera Sancti Augustini_, which the Cantor at Wolgast wanted to sell. That it was not her fault that the young lord lay in wait for her one night; and that she would swear to me, by the living God, that naught that was unseemly had happened between them there, and that she was still a maid. And herewith the first hearing was at end, for after _Dom. Consul_ had whispered somewhat into the ear of the sheriff, he called in the constable again, and bade him keep good watch over _Rea_; _item_, not to leave her at large in her dungeon any longer, but to put her in chains. These words pierced my very heart, and I besought his worship to consider my sacred office, and my ancient noble birth, and not to do me such dishonour as to put my daughter in chains. That I would answer for her to the worshipful court with my own head that she would not escape. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_, after he had gone to look at the dungeon himself, granted me my request, and commanded the constable to leave her as she had been hitherto. CHAPTER XIX. _How Satan, by the permission of the most righteous God, sought altogether to ruin us, and how we lost all hope._ The same day, at about three in the afternoon, when I was gone to Conrad Seep his ale-house to eat something, seeing that it was now nearly two days since I had tasted aught save my tears, and he had placed before me some bread and sausage, together with a mug of beer, the constable came into the room and greeted me from the sheriff, without, however, so much as touching his cap, asking whether I would not dine with his lordship; that his lordship had not remembered till now that I belike was still fasting, seeing the trial had lasted so long. Hereupon I made answer to the constable that I already had my dinner before me, as he saw himself, and desired that his lordship would hold me excused. Hereat the fellow wondered greatly, and answered, Did I not see that his lordship wished me well, albeit I had preached at him as though he were a Jew? I should think on my daughter, and be somewhat more ready to do his lordship's will, whereby peradventure all would yet end well. For his lordship was not such a rough ass as _Dom. Consul_, and meant well by my child and me, as beseemed a righteous magistrate. After I had with some trouble rid myself of this impudent fox, I tried to eat a bit, but nothing would go down save the beer. I therefore soon sat and thought again whether I would not lodge with Conrad Seep, so as to be always near my child; _item_, whether I should not hand over my poor misguided flock to M. Vigelius, the pastor of Benz, for such time as the Lord still should prove me. In about an hour I saw through the window how that an empty coach drove to the castle, and the sheriff and _Dom. Consul_ straightway stepped thereinto with my child; _item_, the constable climbed up behind. Hereupon I left everything on the table and ran to the coach, asking humbly whither they were about to take my poor child; and when I heard they were going to the Streckelberg to look after the amber, I begged them to take me also, and to suffer me to sit by my child, for who could tell how much longer I might yet sit by her! This was granted to me, and on the way the sheriff offered me to take up my abode in the castle and to dine at his table as often as I pleased, and that he would, moreover, send my child her meat from his own table. For that he had a Christian heart, and well knew that we were to forgive our enemies. But I refused his kindness with humble thanks, as my child did also, seeing we were not yet so poor that we could not maintain ourselves. As we passed by the water-mill the ungodly varlet there again thrust his head out of a hole and pulled wry faces at my child; but, dear reader, he got something to remember it by; for the sheriff beckoned to the constable to fetch the fellow out, and after he had reproached him with the tricks he had twice played my child, the constable had to take the coachman his new whip and to give him fifty lashes, which, God knows, were not laid on with a feather. He bellowed like a bull, which, however, no one heard for the noise of the mill-wheels, and when at last he did as though he could not stir, we left him lying on the ground and went on our way. As we drove through Uekeritze a number of people flocked together, but were quiet enough, save one fellow who, _salvâ veniâ_, mocked at us with unseemly gestures in the midst of the road when he saw us coming. The constable had to jump down again, but could not catch him, and the others would not give him up, but pretended that they had only looked at our coach and had not marked him. May be this was true! and I am therefore inclined to think that it was Satan himself who did it to mock at us; for mark, for God's sake, what happened to us on the Streckelberg! Alas! through the delusions of the foul fiend, we could not find the spot where we had dug for the amber. For when we came to where we thought it must be, a huge hill of sand had been heaped up as by a whirlwind, and the fir-twigs which my child had covered over it were gone. She was near falling in a swound when she saw this, and wrung her hands and cried out with her Saviour, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me!" Howbeit, the constable and the coachman were ordered to dig, but not one bit of amber was to be found, even so big as a grain of corn, whereupon _Dom. Consul_ shook his head and violently upbraided my child; and when I answered that Satan himself, as it seemed, had filled up the hollow in order to bring us altogether into his power, the constable was ordered to fetch a long stake out of the coppice which we might thrust still deeper into the sand. But no hard _objectum_ was anywhere to be felt, notwithstanding the sheriff, _Dom. Consul_, and myself in my anguish did try everywhere with the stake. Hereupon my child besought her judges to go with her to Coserow, where she still had much amber in her coffer which she had found here, and that if it were the gift of the devil it would all be changed, since it was well known that all the presents the devil makes to witches straightway turn to mud and ashes. But, God be merciful to us, God be merciful to us! when we returned to Coserow, amid the wonderment of all the village, and my daughter went to her coffer, the things therein were all tossed about, and the amber gone. Hereupon she shrieked so loud that it would have softened a stone, and cried out, "The wicked constable hath done this! when he fetched the salve out of my coffer, he stole the amber from me, unhappy maid." But the constable, who stood by, would have torn her hair, and cried out, "Thou witch, thou damned witch, is it not enough that thou hast belied my lord, but thou must now belie me too?" But _Dom. Consul_ forbade him, so that he did not dare lay hands upon her. _Item_, all the money was gone which she had hoarded up from the amber she had privately sold, and which she thought already came to about ten florins. But the gown which she had worn at the arrival of the most illustrious king Gustavus Adolphus, as well as the golden chain with his effigy which he had given her, I had locked up as though it were a relic in the chest in the vestry, among the altar and pulpit cloths, and there we found them still; and when I excused myself therefor, saying that I had thought to have saved them up for her there against her bridal day, she gazed with fixed and glazed eyes into the box, and cried out, "Yes, against the day when I shall be burnt! O Jesu, Jesu, Jesu!" Hereat _Dom. Consul_ shuddered and said, "See how thou still dost smite thyself with thine own words. For the sake of God and thy salvation, confess, for if thou knowest thyself to be innocent, how, then, canst thou think that thou wilt be burnt?" But she still looked him fixedly in the face, and cried aloud in Latin, "_Innocentia, quid est innocentia! Ubi libido dominatur, innocentia leve præsidium est._" [Footnote: These words are from Cicero, if I do not mistake.] Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ again shuddered, so that his beard wagged, and said, "What, dost thou indeed know Latin? Where didst thou learn the Latin?" And when I answered this question as well as I was able for sobbing, he shook his head, and said, "I never in my life heard of a woman that knew Latin." Upon this he knelt down before her coffer, and turned over everything therein, drew it away from the wall, and when he found nothing he bade us show him her bed, and did the same with that. This, at length, vexed the sheriff, who asked him whither they should not drive back again, seeing that night was coming on? But he answered, "Nay, I must first have the written paction which Satan has given her;" and he went on with his search until it was almost dark. [Footnote: At this time it was believed that as a man bound himself to the devil by writing, so did the devil in like manner to the man.] But they found nothing at all, although _Dom. Consul_, together with the constable, passed over no hole or corner, even in the kitchen and cellar. Hereupon he got up again into the coach, muttering to himself, and bade my daughter sit so that she should not look upon him. And now we once more had the same _spectaculum_ with the accursed old witch Lizzie Kolken, seeing that she again sat at her door as we drove by, and began to sing at the top of her voice, "We praise thee, O Lord." But she screeched like a stuck pig, so that _Dom. Consul_ was amazed thereat, and when he had heard who she was, he asked the sheriff whether he would not that she should be seized by the constable and be tied behind the coach, to run after it, as we had no room for her elsewhere; for that he had often been told that all old women who had red squinting eyes and sharp voices were witches, not to mention the suspicious things which _Rea_ had declared against her. But he answered that he could not do this, seeing that old Lizzie was a woman in good repute, and fearing God, as _Dom. Consul_ might learn for himself; but that, nevertheless, he had had her summoned for the morrow, together with the other witnesses. Yea, in truth, an excellently devout and worthy woman!--for scarcely were we out of the village, when so fearful a storm of thunder, lightning, wind, and hail burst over our heads, that the corn all around us was beaten down as with a flail, and the horses before the coach were quite maddened; however, it did not last long. But my poor child had to bear all the blame again, [Footnote: Such sudden storms were attributed to witches.] inasmuch as _Dom. Consul_ thought that it was not old Lizzie, which, nevertheless, was as clear as the sun at noon-day, but my poor daughter who brewed the storm;--for, beloved reader, what could it have profited her, even if she had known the black art? This, however, did not strike _Dom. Consul_, and Satan, by the permission of the all-righteous God, was presently to use us still worse; for just as we got to the Master's Dam, [Footnote: It is also called to the present day, and is distant a mile from Coserow.] he came flying over us in the shape of a stork, and dropped a frog so exactly over us that it fell into my daughter her lap: she gave a shrill scream, but I whispered her to sit still, and that I would secretly throw the frog away by one leg. But the constable had seen it, and cried out, "Hey, sirs! hey, look at the cursed witch! what has the devil just thrown into her lap?" Whereupon the sheriff and _Dom. Consul_ looked round and saw the frog, which crawled in her lap, and the constable, after he had blown upon it three times, took it up and showed it to their lordships. Hereat _Dom. Consul_ began to spew, and when he had done, he ordered the coachman to stop, got down from the coach, and said we might drive home, that he felt qualmish, and would go a-foot and see if he got better. But first he privately whispered to the constable, which, howbeit, we heard right well, that when he got home he should lay my poor child in chains, but not so as to hurt her much; to which neither she nor I could answer save by tears and sobs. But the sheriff had heard it too, and when his worship was out of sight he began to stroke my child her cheeks from behind her back, telling her to be easy, as he also had a word to say in the matter, and that the constable should not lay her in chains. But that she must leave off being so hard to him as she had been hitherto, and come and sit on the seat beside him, that he might privately give her some good advice as to what was to be done. To this she answered, with many tears, that she wished to sit only by her father, as she knew not how much longer she might sit by him at all; and she begged for nothing more save that his lordship would leave her in peace. But this he would not do, but pinched her back and sides with his knees; and as she bore with this, seeing that there was no help for it, he waxed bolder, taking it for a good sign. Meanwhile _Dom. Consul_ called out close behind us (for being frightened he ran just after the coach), "Constable, constable, come here quick; here lies a hedgehog in the midst of the road!" whereupon the constable jumped down from the coach. This made the sheriff still bolder; and at last my child rose up and said, "Father, let us also go a-foot; I can no longer guard myself from him here behind!" But he pulled her down again by her clothes, and cried out angrily, "Wait, thou wicked witch, I will help thee to go a-foot if thou art so wilful; thou shalt be chained to the block this very night." Whereupon she answered, "Do you do that which you cannot help doing: the righteous God, it is to be hoped, will one day do unto you what He cannot help doing." Meanwhile we had reached the castle, and scarcely were we got out of the coach, when _Dom. Consul_, who had run till he was all of a sweat, came up, together with the constable, and straightway gave over my child into his charge, so that I had scarce time to bid her farewell. I was left standing on the floor below, wringing my hands in the dark, and hearkened whither they were leading her, inasmuch as I had not the heart to follow; when _Dom. Consul_, who had stepped into a room with the sheriff, looked out at the door again, and called after the constable to bring _Rea_ once more before them. And when he had done so, and I went into the room with them, _Dom. Consul_ held a letter in his hand, and, after spitting thrice, he began thus, "Wilt thou still deny, thou stubborn witch? Hear what the old knight, Hans von Nienkerken, writes to the court!" Whereupon he read out to us, that his son was so disturbed by the tale the accursed witch had told of him, that he had fallen sick from that very hour, and that he, the father, was not much better. That his son, Rüdiger, had indeed at times, when he went that way, been to see Pastor Schweidler, whom he had first known upon a journey; but that he swore that he wished he might turn black if he had ever used any folly or jesting with the cursed devil's whore his daughter; much less ever been with her by night on the Streckelberg, or embraced her there. At this dreadful news we both (I mean my child and I) fell down in a swound together, seeing that we had rested our last hopes on the young lord; and I know not what further happened. For when I came to myself, my host, Conrad Seep, was standing over me, holding a funnel between my teeth, through which he ladled some warm beer down my throat, and I never felt more wretched in all my life; insomuch that Master Seep had to undress me like a little child, and to help me into bed. CHAPTER XX. _Of the malice of the Governor and of old Lizzie--item, of the examination of witnesses._ The next morning my hairs, which till _datum_ had been mingled with grey, were white as snow, albeit the Lord otherwise blessed me wondrously. For near daybreak a nightingale flew into the elder-bush beneath my window, and sang so sweetly that straightway I thought it must be a good angel. For after I had hearkened awhile to it, I was all at once able again to pray, which since last Sunday I could not do; and the spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ began to speak within me, "Abba, Father;" [Footnote: Gal. iv. 6.] and straightway I was of good cheer, trusting that God would once more be gracious unto me His wretched child; and when I had given Him thanks for such great mercy, I fell into a refreshing slumber, and slept so long that the blessed sun stood high in the heavens when I awoke. And seeing that my heart was still of good cheer, I sat up in my bed, and sang with a loud voice, "Be not dismayed, thou little flock:" whereupon Master Seep came into the room, thinking I had called him. But he stood reverently waiting till I had done; and after marvelling at my snow-white hair, he told me it was already seven; _item_, that half my congregation, among others, my ploughman, Claus Neels, were already assembled in his house to bear witness that day. When I heard this, I bade mine host forthwith send Claus to the castle, to ask when the court would open, and he brought word back that no one knew, seeing that _Dom. Consul_ was already gone that morning to Mellenthin to see old Nienkerken, and was not yet come back. This message gave me good courage, and I asked the fellow whether he also had come to bear witness against my poor child? To which he answered, "Nay, I know naught save good of her, and I would give the fellows their due, only----" These words surprised me, and I vehemently urged him to open his heart to me. But he began to weep, and at last said that he knew nothing. Alas! he knew but too much, and could then have saved my poor child if he had willed. But from fear of the torture he held his peace, as he since owned; and I will here relate what had befallen him that very morning. He had set out betimes that morning, so as to be alone with his sweetheart, who was to go along with him (she is Steffen of Zempin his daughter, not farmer Steffen, but the lame gouty Steffen), and had got to Pudgla about five, where he found no one in the ale-house save old Lizzie Kolken, who straightway hobbled up to the castle; and when his sweetheart was gone home again, time hung heavy on his hands, and he climbed over the wall into the castle garden, where he threw himself on his face behind a hedge to sleep. But before long the sheriff came with old Lizzie, and after they had looked all round and seen no one, they went into an arbour close by him, and conversed as follows:-- _Ille_.--Now that they were alone together, what did she want of him? _Illa_.--She came to get the money for the witchcraft she had contrived in the village. _Ille_.--Of what use had all this witchcraft been to him? My child, so far from being frightened, defied him more and more; and he doubted whether he should ever have his will of her. _Illa_.--He should only have patience; when she was laid upon the rack she would soon learn to be fond. _Ille_.--That might be, but till then she (Lizzie) should get no money. _Illa_.--What! Must she then do his cattle a mischief? _Ille_.--Yes, if she felt chilly, and wanted a burning faggot to warm her _podex_, she had better. Moreover, he thought that she had bewitched him, seeing that his desire for the parson's daughter was such as he had never felt before. _Illa_ (laughing).--He had said the same thing some thirty years ago, when he first came after her. _Ille_.--Ugh! thou old baggage, don't remind me of such things, but see to it that you get three witnesses, as I told you before, or else methinks they will rack your old joints for you after all. _Illa_.--She had the three witnesses ready, and would leave the rest to him. But that if she were racked she would reveal all she knew. _Ille_.--She should hold her ugly tongue, and go to the devil. _Illa_.--So she would, but first she must have her money. _Ille_.--She should have no money till he had had his will of my daughter. _Illa_.--He might at least pay her for her little pig which she herself had bewitched to death, in order that she might not get into evil repute. _Ille_.--She might choose one when his pigs were driven by, and say she had paid for it. Hereupon, said my Claus, the pigs were driven by, and one ran into the garden, the door being open, and as the swineherd followed it, they parted; but the witch muttered to herself, "Now help, devil, help, that I may----" but he heard no further. The cowardly fellow, however, hid all this from me, as I have said above, and only said, with tears, that he knew nothing. I believed him, and sat down at the window to see when _Dom. Consul_ should return; and when I saw him I rose and went to the castle, where the constable, who was already there with my child, met me before the judgment-chamber. Alas! she looked more joyful than I had seen her for a long time, and smiled at me with her sweet little mouth: but when she saw my snow-white hair, she gave a cry, which made _Dom. Consul_ throw open the door of the judgment-chamber, and say, "Ha, ha! thou knowest well what news I have brought thee; come in, thou stubborn devil's brat!" Whereupon we stepped into the chamber to him, and he lift up his voice and spake to me, after he had sat down with the sheriff, who was by. He said that yester-even, after he had caused me to be carried like one dead to Master Seep his ale-house, and that my stubborn child had been brought to life again, he had once more adjured her, to the utmost of his power, no longer to lie before the face of the living God, but to confess the truth; whereupon she had borne herself very unruly, and had wrung her hands and wept and sobbed, and at last answered that the young _nobilis_ never could have said such things, but that his father must have written them, who hated her, as she had plainly seen when the Swedish king was at Coserow. That he, _Dom. Consul_, had indeed doubted the truth of this at the time, but as a just judge had gone that morning right early with the _scriba_ to Mellenthin, to question the young lord himself. That I might now see myself what horrible malice was in my daughter. For that the old knight had led him to his son's bedside, who still lay sick from vexation, and that he had confirmed all his father had written, and had cursed the scandalous she-devil (as he called my daughter) for seeking to rob him of his knightly honour. "What sayest thou now?" he continued; "wilt thou still deny thy great wickedness? See here the _protocollum_ which the young lord hath signed _manu propriâ!_" But the wretched maid had meanwhile fallen on the ground again, and the constable had no sooner seen this than he ran into the kitchen, and came back with a burning brimstone match, which he was about to hold under her nose. But I hindered him, and sprinkled her face with water, so that she opened her eyes, and raised herself up by a table. She then stood awhile, without saying a word or regarding my sorrow. At last she smiled sadly, and spake thus: That she clearly saw how true was that spoken by the Holy Ghost, "Cursed be the man that trusteth in man;" [Footnote: Jer. xvii. 5.] and that the faithlessness of the young lord had surely broken her poor heart if the all-merciful God had not graciously prevented him, and sent her a dream that night, which she would tell, not hoping to persuade the judges, but to raise up the white head of her poor father. "After I had sat and watched all the night," quoth she, "towards morning I heard a nightingale sing in the castle garden so sweetly that my eyes closed, and I slept. Then methought I was a lamb, grazing quietly in my meadow at Coserow. Suddenly the sheriff jumped over the hedge, and turned into a wolf, who seized me in his jaws, and ran with me towards the Streckelberg, where he had his lair. I, poor little lamb, trembled and bleated in vain, and saw death before my eyes, when he laid me down before his lair, where lay the she-wolf and her young. But behold a hand, like the hand of a man, straightway came out of the bushes, and touched the wolves, each one with one finger, and crushed them so that naught was left of them save a grey powder. Hereupon the hand took me up, and carried me back to my meadow." Only think, beloved reader, how I felt when I heard all this, and about the dear nightingale too, which no one can doubt to have been the servant of God. I clasped my child with many tears, and told her what had happened to me, and we both won such courage and confidence as we had never yet felt, to the wonderment of _Dom. Consul_, as it seemed; but the sheriff turned as pale as a sheet when she stepped towards their worships and said, "And now do with me as you will, the lamb fears not, for she is in the hands of the Good Shepherd!" Meanwhile _Dom. Camerarius_ came in with the _scriba_, but was terrified as he chanced to touch my daughter's apron with the skirts of his coat; and stood and scraped at his coat as a woman scrapes a fish. At last, after he had spat out thrice, he asked the court whether it would not begin to examine witnesses, seeing that all the people had been waiting some time both in the castle and at the ale-house. Hereunto they agreed, and the constable was ordered to guard my child in his room, until it should please the court to summon her. I therefore went with her, but we had to endure much from the impudent rogue, seeing he was not ashamed to lay his arm round my child her shoulders, and to ask for a kiss _in meâ presentiâ_. But, before I could get out a word, she tore herself from him, and said, "Ah, thou wicked knave, must I complain of thee to the court; hast thou forgotten what thou hast already done to me?" To which he answered, laughing, "See, see! how coy;" and still sought to persuade her to be more willing, and not to forget her own interest; for that he meant as well by her as his master; she might believe it or not; with many other scandalous words besides which I have forgot; for I took my child upon my knees and laid my head on her neck, and we sat and wept. CHAPTER XXI. _De confrontatione testium_. When we were summoned before the court again, the whole court was full of people, and some shuddered when they saw us, but others wept; my child told the same tale as before. But when our old Ilse was called, who sat on a bench behind, so that we had not seen her, the strength wherewith the Lord had gifted her was again at an end, and she repeated the words of our Saviour, "He that eateth bread with Me hath lift up his heel against Me:" and she held fast by my chair. Old Ilse, too, could not walk straight for very grief, nor could she speak for tears, but she twisted and wound herself about before the court, like a woman in travail. But when _Dom. Consul_ threatened that the constable should presently help her to her words, she testified that my child had very often got up in the night, and called aloud upon the foul fiend. _Q_. Whether she had ever heard Satan answer her?--_R_. She never had heard him at all. _Q_. Whether she had perceived that _Rea_ had a familiar spirit, and in what shape? She should think upon her oath, and speak the truth.--_R_. She had never seen one. _Q_. Whether she had ever heard her fly up the chimney?--_R_. Nay, she had always gone softly out at the door. _Q_. Whether she never at mornings had missed her broom or pitchfork?--_R_. Once the broom was gone, but she had found it again behind the stove, and may be left it there herself by mistake. _Q_. Whether she had never heard _Rea_ cast a spell, or wish harm to this or that person?--_R_. No, never; she had always wished her neighbours nothing but good, and even in the time of bitter famine had taken the bread out of her own mouth to give it to others. _Q_.--Whether she did not know the salve which had been found in _Rea_ her coffer?--_R_. Oh, yes! her young mistress had brought it back from Wolgast for her skin, and had once given her some when she had chapped hands, and it had done her a vast deal of good. _Q_. Whether she had anything further to say?--_R_. No, nothing but good. Hereupon my man Claus Neels was called up. He also came forward in tears, but answered every question with a "nay," and at last testified that he had never seen nor heard anything bad of my child, and knew naught of her doings by night, seeing that he slept in the stable with the horses; and that he firmly believed that evil folks--and here he looked at old Lizzie--had brought this misfortune upon her, and that she was quite innocent. When it came to the turn of this old limb of Satan, who was to be the chief witness, my child again declared that she would not accept old Lizzie's testimony against her, and called upon the court for justice, for that she had hated her from her youth up, and had been longer by habit and repute a witch than she herself. But the old hag cried out, "God forgive thee thy sins; the whole village knows that I am a devout woman, and one serving the Lord in all things;" whereupon she called up old Zuter Witthahn and my churchwarden Claus Bulk, who bore witness hereto. But old Paasch stood and shook his head; nevertheless when my child said, "Paasch, wherefore dost thou shake thy head?" he started, and answered, "Oh, nothing!" Howbeit, _Dom. Consul_ likewise perceived this, and asked him, whether he had any charge to bring against old Lizzie; if so, he should give glory to God, and state the same; _item_, it was competent to every one so to do; indeed, the court required of him to speak out all he knew. But from fear of the old dragon, all were still as mice, so that you might have heard the flies buzz about the inkstand. I then stood up, wretched as I was, and stretched out my arms over my amazed and faint-hearted people, and spake: "Can ye thus crucify me together with my poor child? have I deserved this at your hands? Speak, then; alas, will none speak?" I heard, indeed, how several wept aloud, but not one spake; and hereupon my poor child was forced to submit. And the malice of the old hag was such that she not only accused my child of the most horrible witchcraft, but also reckoned to a day when she had given herself up to Satan to rob her of her maiden honour; and she said that Satan had, without doubt, then defiled her, when she could no longer heal the cattle, and when they all died. Hereupon my child said naught, save that she cast down her eyes and blushed deep for shame at such filthiness; and to the other blasphemous slander which the old hag uttered with many tears, namely, that my daughter had given up her (Lizzie's) husband, body and soul, to Satan, she answered as she had done before. But when the old hag came to her re-baptism in the sea, and gave out that while seeking for strawberries in the coppice she had recognised my child's voice, and stolen towards her, and perceived these devil's doings, my child fell in smiling, and answered, "Oh, thou evil woman! how couldst thou hear my voice speaking down by the sea, being thyself in the forest upon the mountain? surely thou liest, seeing that the murmur of the waves would make that impossible." This angered the old dragon, and seeking to get out of the blunder she fell still deeper into it, for she said, "I saw thee move thy lips, and from that I knew that thou didst call upon thy paramour the devil!" for my child straightway replied, "Oh, thou ungodly woman! thou saidst thou wert in the forest when thou didst hear my voice; how then up in the forest couldst thou see whether I, who was below by the water, moved my lips or not?" Such contradictions amazed even _Dom. Consul_, and he began to threaten the old hag with the rack if she told such lies; whereupon she answered and said, "List, then, whether I lie! When she went naked into the water she had no mark on her body, but when she came out again I saw that she had between her breasts a mark the size of a silver penny, whence I perceived that the devil had given it her, although I had not seen him about her, nor, indeed, had I seen any one, either spirit or child of man, for she seemed to be quite alone." Hereupon the sheriff jumped up from his seat, and cried, "Search must straightway be made for this mark;" whereupon _Dom. Consul_ answered, "Yea, but not by us, but by two women of good repute," for he would not hearken to what my child said, that it was a mole, and that she had had it from her youth up. Wherefore the constable his wife was sent for, and _Dom. Consul_ muttered somewhat into her ear, and as prayers and tears were of no avail, my child was forced to go with her. Howbeit, she obtained this favour, that old Lizzie Kolken was not to follow her, as she would have done, but our old maid Ilse. I, too, went in my sorrow, seeing that I knew not what the women might do to her. She wept bitterly as they undressed her, and held her hands over her eyes for very shame. Well-a-day, her body was just as white as my departed wife's; although in her childhood, as I remember, she was very yellow, and I saw with amazement the mole between her breasts, whereof I had never heard aught before. But she suddenly screamed violently and started back, seeing that the constable his wife, when nobody watched her, had run a needle into the mole, so deep that the red blood ran down over her breasts. I was sorely angered thereat, but the woman said that she had done it by order of the judge, [Footnote: It was believed that these marks were the infallible sign of a witch when they were insensible, and that they were given by the devil; and every one suspected of witchcraft was invariably searched for them.] which, indeed, was true; for when we came back into court, and the sheriff asked how it was, she testified that there was a mark of the size of a silver penny, of a yellowish colour, but that it had feeling, seeing that _Rea_ had screamed aloud, when she had, unperceived, driven a needle therein. Meanwhile, however, _Dom. Camerarius_ suddenly rose, and stepping up to my child, drew her eyelids asunder and cried out, beginning to tremble, "Behold the sign which never fails:" [Footnote: See, among other authorities, Delrio, _Disquisit. magicæ_, lib. v. tit. xiv. No. 28.] whereupon the whole court started to their feet, and looked at the little spot under her right eyelid, which in truth had been left there by a sty, but this none would believe. _Dom. Consul_ now said, "See, Satan hath marked thee on body and soul! and thou dost still continue to lie unto the Holy Ghost; but it shall not avail thee, and thy punishment will only be the heavier. Oh, thou shameless woman! thou hast refused to accept the testimony of old Lizzie; wilt thou also refuse that of these people, who have all heard thee on the mountain call upon the devil thy paramour, and seen him appear in the likeness of a hairy giant, and kiss and caress thee?" Hereupon old Paasch, goodwife Witthahn, and Zuter, came forward and bare witness, that they had seen this happen about midnight, and that on this declaration they would live and die; that old Lizzie had awakened them one Saturday night about eleven o'clock, had given them a can of beer, and persuaded them to follow the parson's daughter privately, and to see what she did upon the mountain. At first they refused; but in order to get at the truth about the witchcraft in the village, they had at last, after a devout prayer, consented, and had followed her in God's name. They had soon through the bushes seen the witch in the moonshine; she seemed to dig, and spake in some strange tongue the while, whereupon the grim arch-fiend suddenly appeared, and fell upon her neck. Hereupon they ran away in consternation, but, by the help of the Almighty God, on whom from the very first they had set their faith, they were preserved from the power of the evil one. For, notwithstanding he had turned round on hearing a rustling in the bushes, he had had no power to harm them. Finally, it was even charged to my child as a crime, that she had fainted on the road from Coserow to Pudgla, and none would believe that this had been caused by vexation at old Lizzie her singing, and not from a bad conscience, as stated by the judge. When all the witnesses had been examined, _Dom. Consul_ asked her whether she had brewed the storm, what was the meaning of the frog that dropped into her lap, _item_, the hedgehog which lay directly in his path? To all of which she answered, that she had caused the one as little as she knew of the other. Whereupon _Dom. Consul_ shook his head, and asked her, last of all, whether she would have an advocate, or trust entirely in the good judgment of the court. To this she gave answer, that she would by all means have an advocate. Wherefore I sent my ploughman, Claus Neels, the next day to Wolgast to fetch the _Syndicus_ Michelson, who is a worthy man, and in whose house I have been many times when I went to the town, seeing that he courteously invited me. I must also note here that at this time my old Ilse came back to live with me; for after the witnesses were gone she stayed behind in the chamber, and came boldly up to me, and besought me to suffer her once more to serve her old master and her dear young mistress; for that now she had saved her poor soul, and confessed all she knew. Wherefore she could no longer bear to see her old master in such woeful plight, without so much as a mouthful of victuals, seeing that she had heard that old wife Seep, who had till _datum_ prepared the food for me and my child, often let the porridge burn; _item_, over-salted the fish and the meat. Moreover that I was so weakened by age and misery, that I needed help and support, which she would faithfully give me, and was ready to sleep in the stable, if needs must be; that she wanted no wages for it, I was only not to turn her away. Such kindness made my daughter to weep, and she said to me, "Behold, father, the good folks come back to us again; think you, then, that the good angels will forsake us for ever? I thank thee, old Ilse; thou shalt indeed prepare my food for me, and always bring it as far as the prison-door, if thou mayest come no further; and mark, then, I pray thee, what the constable does therewith." This the maid promised to do, and from this time forth took up her abode in the stable. May God repay her at the day of judgment for what she then did for me and for my poor child! CHAPTER XXII. _How the Syndicus Dom. Michelson arrived, and prepared his defence of my poor child._ The next day, at about three o'clock P.M., _Dom. Syndicus_ came driving up, and got out of his coach at my inn. He had a huge bag full of books with him, but was not so friendly in his manner as was usual with him, but very grave and silent. And after he had saluted me in my own room, and had asked how it was possible for my child to have come to such misfortune, I related to him the whole affair, whereat, however, he only shook his head. On my asking him whether he would not see my child that same day, he answered, "Nay;" he would rather first study the _Acta_. And after he had eaten of some wild duck which my old Ilse had roasted for him, he would tarry no longer, but straightway went up to the castle, whence he did not return till the following afternoon. His manner was not more friendly now than at his first coming, and I followed him with sighs when he asked me to lead him to my daughter. As we went in with the constable, and I, for the first time, saw my child in chains before me--she who in her whole life had never hurt a worm--I again felt as though I should die for very grief. But she smiled and cried out to _Dom. Syndicus_, "Are you indeed the good angel who will cause my chains to fall from my hands, as was done of yore to St. Peter?" [Footnote: The Acts of the Apostles, xii. 7.] To which he replied, with a sigh, "May the Almighty God grant it;" and as, save the chair whereon my child sat against the wall, there was none other in the dungeon (which was a filthy and stinking hole, wherein were more wood-lice than ever I saw in my life), _Dom. Syndicus_ and I sat down on her bed, which had been left for her at my prayer; and he ordered the constable to go his ways, until he should call him back. Hereupon he asked my child what she had to say in her justification; and she had not gone far in her defence when I perceived, from the shadow at the door, that some one must be standing without. I therefore went quickly to the door, which was half open, and found the impudent constable, who stood there to listen. This so angered _Dom. Syndicus_ that he snatched up his staff in order to hasten his going, but the arch-rogue took to his heels as soon as he saw this. My child took this opportunity to tell her worshipful _defensor_ what she had suffered from the impudence of this fellow, and to beg that some other constable might be set over her, seeing that this one had come to her last night again with evil designs, so that she at last had shrieked aloud and beaten him on the head with her chains; whereupon he had left her. This _Dom. Syndicus_ promised to obtain for her; but with regard to the _defensio_, wherewith she now went on, he thought it would be better to make no further mention of the _impetus_ which the sheriff had made on her chastity. "For," said he, "as the princely central court at Wolgast has to give sentence upon thee, this statement would do thee far more harm than good, seeing that the _præses_ thereof is a cousin of the sheriff, and ofttimes goes a hunting with him. Besides, thou being charged with a capital crime hast no _fides_, especially as thou canst bring no witnesses against him. Thou couldst, therefore, gain no belief even if thou didst confirm the charge on the rack, wherefrom, moreover, I am come hither to save thee by my _defensio_." These reasons seemed sufficient to us both, and we resolved to leave vengeance to Almighty God, who seeth in secret, and to complain of our wrongs to Him, as we might not complain to men. But all my daughter said about old Lizzie--_item_, of the good report wherein she herself had, till now, stood with everybody--he said he would write down, and add thereunto as much and as well of his own as he was able, so as, by the help of Almighty God, to save her from the torture. That she was to make herself easy and commend herself to God; within two days he hoped to have his _defensio_ ready and to read it to her. And now, when he called the constable back again, the fellow did not come, but sent his wife to lock the prison, and I took leave of my child with many tears: _Dom. Syndicus_ told the woman the while what her impudent rogue of a husband had done, that she might let him hear more of it. Then he sent the woman away again and came back to my daughter, saying that he had forgotten to ascertain whether she really knew the Latin tongue, and that she was to say her _defensio_ over again in Latin, if she was able. Hereupon she began and went on therewith for a quarter of an hour or more, in such wise that not only _Dom. Syndicus_ but I myself also was amazed, seeing that she did not stop for a single word, save the word "hedgehog," which we both had forgotten at the moment when she asked us what it was. _Summa.--Dom. Syndicus_ grew far more gracious when she had finished her oration, and took leave of her, promising that he would set to work forthwith. After this I did not see him again till the morning of the third day at ten o'clock, seeing that he sat at work in a room at the castle, which the sheriff had given him, and also ate there, as he sent me word by old Ilse when she carried him his breakfast next day. At the above-named time, he sent the new constable for me, who, meanwhile, had been fetched from Uzdom at his desire. For the sheriff was exceeding wroth when he heard that the impudent fellow had attempted my child in the prison, and cried out in a rage, "S'death and 'ouns, I'll mend thy coaxing!" Whereupon he gave him a sound threshing with a dog-whip he held in his hand, to make sure that she should be at peace from him. But, alas! the new constable was even worse than the old, as will be shown hereafter. His name was Master Köppner, and he was a tall fellow with a grim face, and a mouth so wide that at every word he said the spittle ran out at the corners, and stuck in his long beard like soapsuds, so that my child had an especial fear and loathing of him. Moreover, on all occasions he seemed to laugh in mockery and scorn, as he did when he opened the prison-door to us, and saw my poor child sitting in her grief and distress. But he straightway left us without waiting to be told, whereupon _Dom. Syndicus_ drew his defence out of his pocket, and read it to us; we have remembered the main points thereof, and I will recount them here, but most of the _auctores_ we have forgotten. 1. He began by saying that my daughter had ever till now stood in good repute, as not only the whole village, but even my servants, bore witness; _ergo_, she could not be a witch, inasmuch as the Saviour hath said, "A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit" (Matt. vii.). 2. With regard to the witchcraft in the village, that belike was the contrivance of old Lizzie, seeing that she bore a great hatred towards _Rea_, and had long been in evil repute, for that the parishioners dared not to speak out, only from fear of the old witch; wherefore Zuter her little girl must be examined, who had heard old Lizzie her goodman tell her she had a familiar spirit, and that he would tell it to the parson; for that notwithstanding the above-named was but a child, still it was written in Ps. viii., "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast Thou ordained strength...;" and the Saviour Himself appealed (Matt. xxi.) to the testimony of little children. 3. Furthermore, old Lizzie might have bewitched the crops; item, the fruit-trees, inasmuch as none could believe that _Rea_, who had ever shown herself a dutiful child, would have bewitched her own father's corn, or made caterpillars come on his trees; for no one, according to Scripture, can serve two masters. 4. _Item_, she (old Lizzie) might very well have been the woodpecker that was seen by _Rea_ and old Paasch on the Streckelberg, and herself have given over her goodman to the evil one for fear of the parson, inasmuch as Spitzel, _De Expugnatione Orci_, asserts; _item_, the _Malleus Malesicarum_ [Footnote: The celebrated "Hammer for Witches" of Innocent VIII, which appeared 1489, and gave directions for the whole course of proceeding to be observed at trials for witchcraft.] proves beyond doubt, that the wicked children of Satan ofttimes change themselves into all manner of beasts, as the foul fiend himself likewise seduced our first parents in the shape of a serpent (Gen. iii). 5. That old Lizzie had most likely made the wild weather when _Dom. Consul_ was coming home with _Rea_ from the Streckelberg, seeing it was impossible that _Rea_ could have done it, as she was sitting in the coach, whereas witches when they raise storms always stand in the water and throw it over their heads backwards; _item_, beat the stones soundly with a stick, as Hannold relates. Wherefore she too, may be, knew best about the frog and the hedgehog. 6. That _Rea_ was erroneously charged with that as a _crimen_ which ought rather to serve as her justification, namely, her sudden riches. For the _Malleus Malesicarum_ expressly says that a witch can never grow rich, seeing that Satan, to do dishonour to God, always buys them for a vile price, so that they should not betray themselves by their riches. [Footnote: The original words of the "Hammer for Witches," tom. i. quest. 18, in answer to the questions, _Cur malefic� non ditentur?_ are, _Ut juxta complacentiam dæmonis in contumeliam Creatoris, quantum possibile est, pro vilissimo pretio emantur, et secundo, ne in divitas notentur_.] Wherefore that as _Rea_ had grown rich, she could not have got her wealth from the foul fiend, but it must be true that she had found amber on the mountain; that the spells of old Lizzie might have been the cause why they could not find the vein of amber again, or that the sea might have washed away the cliff below, as often happens, whereupon the top had slipped down, so that only a _miraculum naturale_ had taken place. The proof which he brought forward from Scripture we have quite forgotten, seeing it was but middling. 7. With regard to her re-baptism, the old hag had said herself that she had not seen the devil or any other spirit or man about _Rea_, wherefore she might in truth have been only naturally bathing, in order to greet the King of Sweden next day, seeing that the weather was hot, and that bathing was not of itself sufficient to impair the modesty of a maiden. For that she had as little thought any would see her as Bathsheba the daughter of Eliam, and wife of Uriah the Hittite, who in like manner did bathe herself, as is written (2 Sam. xi. 2), without knowing that David could see her. Neither could her mark be a mark given by Satan, inasmuch as there was feeling therein; _ergo_, it must be a natural mole, and it was a lie that she had it not before bathing. Moreover, that on this point the old harlot was nowise to be believed, seeing that she had fallen from one contradiction into another about it, as stated in the _Acta_. 8. Neither was it just to accuse _Rea_ of having bewitched Paasch his little daughter; for as old Lizzie was going in and out of the room, nay, even sat herself down on the little girl her belly when the pastor went to see her, it most likely was that wicked woman (who was known to have a great spite against _Rea_) that contrived the spell through the power of the foul fiend, and by permission of the all-just God; for that Satan was "a liar and the father of it," as our Lord Christ says (John viii.). 9. With regard to the appearance of the foul fiend on the mountain in the shape of a hairy giant, that indeed was the heaviest _gravamen_, inasmuch as not only old Lizzie, but likewise three trustworthy witnesses, had seen him. But who could tell whether it was not old Lizzie herself who had contrived this devilish apparition in order to ruin her enemy altogether; for that notwithstanding the apparition was not the young nobleman, as _Rea_ had declared it to be, it still was very likely that she had not lied, but had mistaken Satan for the young lord, as he appeared in his shape; _exemplum_, for this was to be found even in Scripture: for that all _Theologi_ of the whole Protestant Church were agreed, that the vision which the witch of Endor showed to King Saul was not Samuel himself, but the arch-fiend; nevertheless, Saul had taken it for Samuel. In like manner the old harlot might have conjured up the devil before _Rea_, who did not perceive that it was not the young lord, but Satan, who had put on that shape in order to seduce her; for as _Rea_ was a fair woman, none could wonder that the devil gave himself more trouble for her than for an old withered hag, seeing he has ever sought after fair women to lie with them. [Footnote: Gen. vi. 2.] Lastly, he argued that _Rea_ was in nowise marked as a witch, for that she neither had bleared and squinting eyes nor a hooked nose, whereas old Lizzie had both, which Theophrastus Paracelsus declares to be an unfailing mark of a witch, saying, "Nature marketh none thus unless by abortion, for these are the chiefest signs whereby witches be known whom the spirit _Asiendens_ hath subdued unto himself." When _Dom. Syndicus_ had read his _defensio_, my daughter was so rejoiced thereat that she would have kissed his hand, but he snatched it from her and breathed upon it thrice, whereby we could easily see that he himself was nowise in earnest with his _defensio_. Soon after he took leave in an ill-humour, after commending her to the care of the Most High, and begged that I would make my farewell as short as might be, seeing that he purposed to return home that very day, the which, alas! I very unwillingly did. CHAPTER XXIII. _How my poor child was sentenced to be put to the question._ After _Acta_ had been sent to the honourable the central court, about fourteen days passed over before any answer was received. My lord the sheriff was especially gracious towards me the while, and allowed me to see my daughter as often as I would (seeing that the rest of the court were gone home), wherefore I was with her nearly all day. And when the constable grew impatient of keeping watch over me, I gave him a fee to lock me in together with my child. And the all-merciful God was gracious unto us, and caused us often and gladly to pray, for we had a steadfast hope, believing that the cross we had seen in the heavens would now soon pass away from us, and that the ravening wolf would receive his reward when the honourable high court had read through the _Acta_, and should come to the excellent _defensio_ which _Dom. Syndicus_ had constructed for my child. Wherefore I began to be of good cheer again, especially when I saw my daughter her cheeks growing of a right lovely red. But on Thursday, 25th _mensis Augusti_, at noon, the worshipful court drove into the castle yard again as I sat in the prison with my child, as I was wont; and old Ilse brought us our food, but could not tell us the news for weeping. But the tall constable peeped in at the door grinning, and cried, "Oh, ho! they are come, they are come; now the tickling will begin:" whereat my poor child shuddered, but less at the news than at sight of the fellow himself. Scarce was he gone than he came back again to take off her chains and to fetch her away. So I followed her into the judgment-chamber, where _Dom. Consul_ read out the sentence of the honourable high court as follows:--That she should once more be questioned in kindness touching the articles contained in the indictment; and if she then continued stubborn she should be subjected to the _peine forte et dure_, for that the _defensio_ she had set up did not suffice, and that there were _indicia legitima, prægnantia et sufficientia ad torturam ipsam_; to wit--1. _Mala sama_. 2. _Malesicum, publicè commissum_. 3. _Apparitio dæmonis in monte_. Whereupon the most honourable central court cited about 20 _auctores_, whereof, howbeit, we remember but little. When _Don. Consul_ had read out this to my child, he once more lift up his voice and admonished her with many words to confess of her own free will, for that the truth must now come to light. Hereupon she steadfastly replied, that after the _defensio_ of _Dom. Syndicus_ she had indeed hoped for a better sentence; but that, as it was the will of God to try her yet more hardly, she resigned herself altogether into His gracious hands, and could not confess aught save what she had said before, namely, that she was innocent, and that evil men had brought this misery upon her. Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ motioned the constable, who straightway opened the door of the next room, and admitted _Pastor Benzensis_ [Footnote: The minister at Bentz, a village situated at a short distance from Pudgla.] in his surplice, who had been sent for by the court to admonish her still better out of the Word of God. He heaved a deep sigh, and said, "Mary, Mary, is it thus I must meet thee again?" Whereupon she began to weep bitterly, and to protest her innocence afresh. But he heeded not her distress; and as soon as he had heard her pray, "Our Father," "The eyes of all wait upon Thee," and "God the Father dwell with us," he lift up his voice and declared to her the hatred of the living God to all witches and warlocks, seeing that not only is the punishment of fire awarded to them in the Old Testament, but that the Holy Ghost expressly saith in the New Testament (Gal. v.), "That they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God;" but "shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone; which is the second death" (Apocal. xxi.). Wherefore she must not be stubborn nor murmur against the court when she was tormented, seeing that it was all done out of Christian love, and to save her poor soul. That, for the sake of God and her salvation, she should no longer delay repentance, and thereby cause her body to be tormented and give over her wretched soul to Satan, who certainly would not fulfil those promises in hell which he had made her here upon earth; seeing that "he was a murderer from the beginning--a liar and the father of it" (John viii.). "Oh!" cried he, "Mary, my child, who so oft hast sat upon my knees, and for whom I now cry every morning and every night unto my God, if thou wilt have no pity upon thee and me, have pity at least upon thy worthy father, whom I cannot look upon without tears, seeing that his hairs have turned snow white within a few days, and save thy soul, my child, and confess! Behold, thy Heavenly Father grieveth over thee no less than thy fleshly father, and the holy angels veil their faces for sorrow that thou, who wert once their darling sister, art now become the sister and bride of the devil. Return, therefore, and repent! This day thy Saviour calleth thee, poor stray lamb, back into His flock, 'And ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound... be loosed from this bond?' Such are His merciful words (Luke xiii.); _item_, 'Return, thou backsliding Israel, saith the Lord, and I will not cause Mine anger to fall upon you, for I am merciful' (Jer. iii.). Return then, thou backsliding soul, unto the Lord thy God! He who heard the prayer of the idolatrous Manasseh when 'he besought the Lord his God and humbled himself (2 Chron. xxxiii.); who, through Paul, accepted the repentance of the sorcerers at Ephesus (Acts xix.), the same merciful God now crieth unto thee as unto the angel of the church of Ephesus, 'Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen and repent' (Apocal. ii.). O Mary, Mary, remember, my child, from whence thou art fallen, and repent!" Hereupon he held his peace, and it was some time before she could say a word for tears and sobs; but at last she answered, "If lies are no less hateful to God than witchcraft, I may not lie, but must rather declare, to the glory of God, as I have ever declared, that I am innocent." Hereupon _Dom. Consul_ was exceeding wroth, and frowned, and asked the tall constable if all was ready, _Item_, whether the women were at hand to undress _Rea_; whereupon he answered with a grin, as he was wont, "Ho, ho, I have never been wanting in my duty, nor will I be wanting to-day; I will tickle her in such wise that she shall soon confess." When he had said this, _Dom. Consul_ turned to my daughter and said, "Thou art a foolish thing, and knowest not the torment which awaits thee, and therefore is it that thou still art stubborn. Now then, follow me to the torture-chamber, where the executioner shall show thee the _instrumenta_, and thou mayest yet think better of it, when thou hast seen what the question is like." Hereupon he went into another room, and the constable followed him with my child. And when I would have gone after them, _Pastor Benzensis_ held me back, with many tears, and conjured me not to do so, but to tarry where I was. But I hearkened not unto him, and tore myself from him, and swore that so long as a single vein should beat in my wretched body, I would never forsake my child. I therefore went into the next room, and from thence down into a vault, where was the torture-chamber, wherein were no windows, so that those without might not hear the cries of the tormented. Two torches were already burning there when I went in, and although _Dom. Consul_ would at first have sent me away, after a while he had pity upon me, so that he suffered me to stay. And now that hell-hound the constable stepped forward, and first showed my poor child the ladder, saying with savage glee, "See here! first of all, thou wilt be laid on that, and thy hands and feet will be tied. Next the thumb-screw here will be put upon thee, which straightway will make the blood to spirt out at the tips of thy fingers; thou mayest see that they are still red with the blood of old Gussy Biehlke, who was burnt last year, and who, like thee, would not confess at first. If thou still wilt not confess, I shall next put these Spanish boots on thee, and should they be too large, I shall just drive in a wedge, so that the calf, which is now at the back of thy leg, will be driven to the front, and the blood will shoot out of thy feet, as when thou squeezest blackberries in a bag. "Again, if thou wilt not yet confess--holla!" shouted he, and kicked open a door behind him, so that the whole vault shook, and my poor child fell upon her knees for fright. Before long two women brought in a bubbling cauldron, full of boiling pitch and brimstone. This cauldron the hell-hound ordered them to set down on the ground, and drew forth, from under the red cloak he wore, a goose's wing, wherefrom he plucked five or six quills, which he dipped into the boiling brimstone. After he had held them awhile in the cauldron he threw them upon the earth, where they twisted about and spirted the brimstone on all sides. And then he called to my poor child again, "See! these quills I shall throw upon thy white loins, and the burning brimstone will presently eat into thy flesh down to the very bones, so that thou wilt thereby have a foretaste of the joys which await thee in hell." When he had spoken thus far, amid sneers and laughter, I was so overcome with rage that I sprang forth out of the corner where I stood leaning my trembling joints against an old barrel, and cried, "Oh, thou hellish dog! sayest thou this of thyself, or have others bidden thee?" Whereupon, however, the fellow gave me such a blow upon the breast that I fell backwards against the wall, and _Dom. Consul_ called out in great wrath, "You old fool, if you needs must stay here, at any rate leave the constable in peace, for if not I will have you thrust out of the chamber forthwith. The constable has said no more than is his duty; and it will thus happen to thy child if she confess not, and if it appear that the foul fiend hath given her some charm against the torture." [Footnote: It was believed that when witches endured torture with unusual patience, or even slept during the operation, which, strange to say, frequently occured, the devil had gifted them with insensibility to pain by means of an amulet which they concealed in some secret part of their persons.--Zedler's Universal Lexicon, vol. xliv., art, "Torture."] Hereupon this hell-hound went on to speak to my poor child, without heeding me, save that he laughed in my face: "Look here! when thou hast thus been well shorn, ho, ho, ho! I shall pull thee up by means of these two rings in the floor and the roof, stretch thy arms above thy head, and bind them fast to the ceiling; whereupon I shall take these two torches, and hold them under thy shoulders, till thy skin will presently become like the rind of a smoked ham. Then thy hellish paramour will help thee no longer, and thou wilt confess the truth. And now thou hast seen and heard all that I shall do to thee, in the name of God, and by order of the magistrates." And now _Dom. Consul_ once more came forward and admonished her to confess the truth. But she abode by what she had said from the first; whereupon he delivered her over to the two women who had brought in the cauldron, to strip her naked as she was born, and to clothe her in the black torture-shift; after which they were once more to lead her barefooted up the steps before the worshipful court. But one of these women was the sheriff his housekeeper (the other was the impudent constable his wife), and my daughter said that she would not suffer herself to be touched save by honest women, and assuredly not by the housekeeper, and begged _Dom. Consul_ to send for her maid, who was sitting in her prison reading the Bible, if he knew of no other decent woman at hand. Hereupon the housekeeper began to pour forth a wondrous deal of railing and ill words, but _Dom. Consul_ rebuked her, and answered my daughter that he would let her have her wish in this matter too, and bade the impudent constable his wife call the maid hither from out of the prison. After he had said this, he took me by the arm, and prayed me so long to go up with him, for that no harm would happen to my daughter as yet, that I did as he would have me. Before long she herself came up, led between the two women, barefooted, and in the black torture-shift, but so pale that I myself should scarce have known her. The hateful constable, who followed close behind, seized her by the hand, and led her before the worshipful court. Hereupon the admonitions began all over again, and _Dom. Consul_ bade her look upon the brown spots that were upon the black shift, for that they were the blood of old wife Biehlke, and to consider that within a few minutes it would in like manner be stained with her own blood. Hereupon she answered, "I have considered that right well, but I hope that my faithful Saviour, who hath laid this torment upon me, being innocent, will likewise help me to bear it, as He helped the holy martyrs of old; for if these, through God's help, overcame by faith the torments inflicted on them by blind heathens, I also can overcome the torture inflicted on me by blind heathens, who, indeed, call themselves Christians, but who are more cruel than those of yore; for the old heathens only caused the holy virgins to be torn of savage beasts, but ye which have received the new commandment, 'That ye love one another; as your Saviour hath loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are His disciples' (St. John xiii.); yourselves will act the part of savage beasts, and tear with your own hands the body of an innocent maiden, your sister, who has never done aught to harm you. Do then as ye list, but have a care how ye will answer it to the highest Judge of all. Again, I say, the lamb feareth naught, for it is in the hand of the Good Shepherd." When my matchless child had thus spoken, _Dom. Consul_ rose, pulled off the black skull-cap which he ever wore, because the top of his head was already bald, bowed to the court, and said, "We hereby make known to the worshipful court, that the question ordinary and extraordinary of the stubborn and blaspheming witch, Mary Schweidler, is about to begin, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." Hereupon all the court rose save the sheriff, who had got up before, and was walking uneasily up and down in the room. But of all that now follows, and of what I myself did, I remember not one word, but will relate it all as I have received it from my daughter and other _testes_, and they have told me as follows:-- That when _Dom. Consul_ after these words had taken up the hour-glass which stood upon the table, and walked on before, I would go with him, whereupon _Pastor Benzensis_ first prayed me with many words and tears to desist from my purpose, and when that was of no avail my child herself stroked my cheeks, saying, "Father, have you ever read that the Blessed Virgin stood by when her guileless Son was scourged? Depart, therefore, from me. You shall stand by the pile whereon I am burned, that I promise you; for in like manner did the Blessed Virgin stand at the foot of the cross. But now, go; go, I pray you, for you will not be able to bear it, neither shall I!" And when this also failed, _Dom. Consul_ bade the constable seize me, and by main force lock me into another room; whereupon, however, I tore myself away, and fell at his feet, conjuring him by the wounds of Christ not to tear me from my child; that I would never forget his kindness and mercy, but pray for him day and night; nay, that at the day of judgment I would be his intercessor with God and the holy angels if that he would but let me go with my child; that I would be quite quiet, and not speak one single word, but that I must go with my child, &c. This so moved the worthy man that he burst into tears, and so trembled with pity for me that the hour-glass fell from his hands and rolled right before the feet of the sheriff, as though God Himself would signify to him that his glass was soon to run out; and, indeed, he understood it right well, for he grew white as any chalk when he picked it up, and gave it back to _Dom. Consul_. The latter at last gave way, saying that this day would make him ten years older; but he bade the impudent constable, who also went with us, lead me away if I made any _rumor_ during the torture. And hereupon the whole court went below, save the sheriff, who said his head ached, and that he believed his old _malum_, the gout, was coming upon him again, wherefore he went into another chamber, _item_, _Pastor Benzensis_ likewise departed. Down in the vault the constables first brought in tables and chairs, whereon the court sat, and _Dom. Consul_ also pushed a chair toward me, but I sat not thereon, but threw myself upon my knees in a corner. When this was done they began again with their vile admonitions, and as my child, like her guileless Saviour before His unrighteous judges, answered not a word, _Dom. Consul_ rose up and bade the tall constable lay her on the torture-bench. She shook like an aspen leaf when he bound her hands and feet; and when he was about to bind over her sweet eyes a nasty old filthy clout wherein my maid had seen him carry fish but the day before, and which was still all over shining scales, I perceived it, and pulled off my silken neckerchief, begging him to use that instead, which he did. Hereupon the thumb-screw was put on her, and she was once more asked whether she would confess freely, but she only shook her poor blinded head, and sighed with her dying Saviour, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani," and then in Greek, "Theé mou, theé mou, hiva thi me hegkatélipes." [Footnote: "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?"-Matt, xxvii. 46.] Whereat _Dom. Consul_ started back, and made the sign of the cross (for inasmuch as he knew no Greek, he believed, as he afterwards said himself, that she was calling upon the devil to help her), and then called to the constable with a loud voice, "Screw!" But when I heard this I gave such a cry that the whole vault shook; and when my poor child, who was dying of terror and despair, had heard my voice, she first struggled with her bound hands and feet like a lamb that lies dying in the slaughter-house, and then cried out, "Loose me, and I will confess whatsoe'er you will." Hereat _Dom. Consul_ so greatly rejoiced, that while the constable unbound her, he fell on his knees, and thanked God for having spared him this anguish. But no sooner was my poor desperate child unbound, and had laid aside her crown of thorns (I mean my silken neckerchief), than she jumped off the ladder, and flung herself upon me, who lay for dead in the corner in a deep swound. This greatly angered the worshipful court, and when the constable had borne me away, _Rea_ was admonished to make her confession according to promise. But seeing she was too weak to stand upon her feet, _Dom. Consul_ gave her a chair to sit upon, although _Dom. Camerarius_ grumbled thereat, and these were the chief questions which were put to her by order of the most honourable high central court, as _Dom. Consul_ said, and which were registered _ad protocollum._ _Q._ Whether she could bewitch?--_R._ Yes, she could bewitch. _Q._ Who taught her to do so?--_R._ Satan himself. _Q._ How many devils had she?--_R._ One devil was enough for her. _Q_. What was this devil called?--_Illa_ (considering). His name was _Disidæmonia_. [Footnote: Greek--Superstition. What an extraordinary woman!] Hereat _Dom. Consul_ shuddered and said that that must be a very terrible devil indeed, for that he had never heard such a name before, and that she must spell it, so that _Scriba_ might make no error; which she did, and he then went on as follows:-- _Q_. In what shape had he appeared to her?--_R_. In the shape of the sheriff, and sometimes as a goat with terrible horns. _Q_. Whether Satan had re-baptized her, and where?--_R_. In the sea. _Q_. What name had he given her?--_R_.-------. [Footnote: It was impossible to decipher this name in the manuscript.] _Q_. Whether any of the neighbours had been by when she was re-baptized, and which of them?--_R_. Hereupon my matchless child cast up her eyes towards heaven, as though doubting whether she should fyle old Lizzie or not, but at last she said, No! _Q_. She must have had sponsors; who were they? and what gift had they given her as christening money?--_R_. There were none there save spirits; wherefore old Lizzie could see no one when she came and looked on at her re-baptism. _Q_. Whether she had ever lived with the devil?--_R_. She never had lived anywhere save in her father's house. _Q_. She did not choose to understand. He meant whether she had ever played the wanton with Satan, and known him carnally? Hereupon she blushed, and was so ashamed that she covered her face with her hands, and presently began to weep and to sob: and as, after many questions, she gave no answer, she was again admonished to speak the truth, or that the executioner should lift her up on the ladder again. At last she said "No!" which howbeit the worshipful court would not believe, and bade the executioner seize her again, whereupon she answered "Yes!" _Q._ Whether she had found the devil hot or cold?--_R_. She did not remember which. _Q_. Whether she had ever conceived by Satan, and given birth to a changeling, and of what shape?--_R_. No, never. _Q_. Whether the foul fiend had given her any sign or mark about her body, and in what part thereof?--_R_. That the mark had already been seen by the worshipful court. She was next charged with all the witchcraft done in the village, and owned to it all, save that she still said that she knew naught of old Seden his death, _item_, of little Paasch her sickness, nor, lastly, would she confess that she had, by the help of the foul fiend, raked up my crop or conjured the caterpillars into my orchard. And albeit they again threatened her with the question, and even ordered the executioner to lay her on the bench and put on the thumbscrew to frighten her; she remained firm, and said, "Why should you torture me, seeing that I have confessed far heavier crimes than these, which it will not save my life to deny?" Hereupon the worshipful court at last were satisfied, and suffered her to be lifted off the torture-bench, especially as she confessed the _articulus principalis_; to wit, that Satan had really appeared to her on the mountain in the shape of a hairy giant. Of the storm and the frog, item, of the hedgehog, nothing was said, inasmuch as the worshipful court had by this time seen the folly of supposing that she could have brewed a storm while she quietly sat in the coach. Lastly, she prayed that it might be granted to her to suffer death clothed in the garments which she had worn when she went to greet the King of Sweden; _item_, that they would suffer her wretched father to be driven with her to the stake, and to stand by while she was burned, seeing that she had promised him this in the presence of the worshipful court. Hereupon she was once more given into the charge of the tall constable, who was ordered to put her into a stronger and severer prison. But he had not led her out of the chamber before the sheriff his bastard, whom he had had by the housekeeper, came into the vault with a drum, and kept drumming and crying out, "Come to the roast goose! come to the roast goose!" whereat _Dom. Consul_ was exceeding wroth, and ran after him, but he could not catch him, seeing that the young varlet knew all the ins and outs of the vault. Without doubt it was the Lord who sent me the swound, so that I should be spared this fresh grief; wherefore to Him alone be honour and glory. Amen. CHAPTER XXIV. _How in my presence the devil fetched old Lizzie Kolken_. When I recovered from my above-mentioned swound, I found my host, his wife, and my old maid standing over me, and pouring warm beer down my throat. The faithful old creature shrieked for joy when I opened my eyes again, and then told me that my daughter had not suffered herself to be racked, but had freely confessed her crimes and fyled herself as a witch. This seemed pleasant news to me in my misery, inasmuch as I deemed the death by fire to be a less heavy punishment than the torture. Howbeit when I would have prayed I could not, whereat I again fell into heavy grief and despair, fearing that the Holy Ghost had altogether turned away His face from me, wretched man that I was. And albeit the old maid, when she had seen this, came and stood before my bed and began to pray aloud to me; it was all in vain, and I remained a hardened sinner. But the Lord had pity upon me, although I deserved it not, insomuch that I presently fell into a deep sleep, and did not awake until next morning when the prayer-bell rang; and then I was once more able to pray, whereat I greatly rejoiced, and still thanked God in my heart, when my ploughman Claus Neels came in and told me that he had come yesterday to tell me about my oats, seeing that he had gotten them all in; and that the constable came with him who had been to fetch old Lizzie Kolken, inasmuch as the honourable high court had ordered her to be brought up for trial. Hereat the whole village rejoiced, but _Rea_ herself laughed, and shouted, and sang, and told him and the constable, by the way (for the constable had let her get up behind for a short time), that this should bring great luck to the sheriff. They need only bring her up before the court, and in good sooth she would not hold her tongue within her teeth, but that all men should marvel at her confession; that such a court as that was a laughing-stock to her, and that she spat, _salvâ veniâ_, upon the whole brotherhood, &c. Upon hearing this I once more felt a strong hope, and rose to go to old Lizzie. But I was not quite dressed before she sent the impudent constable to beg that I would go to her with all speed and give her the sacrament, seeing that she had become very weak during the night. I had my own thoughts on the matter, and followed the constable as fast as I could, though not to give her the sacrament, as indeed anybody may suppose. But in my haste I, weak old man that I was, forgot to take my witnesses with me; for all the misery I had hitherto suffered had so clouded my senses that it never once came into my head. None followed me save the impudent constable; and it will soon appear how that this villain had given himself over body and soul to Satan to destroy my child, whereas he might have saved her. For when he had opened the prison (it was the same cell wherein my child had first been shut up), we found old Lizzie lying on the ground on a truss of straw, with a broom for a pillow (as though she were about to fly to hell upon it, as she no longer could fly to Blockula), so that I shuddered when I caught sight of her. Scarce was I come in when she cried out fearfully, "I'm a witch, I'm a witch! Have pity upon me, and give me the sacrament quick, and I will confess everything to you!" And when I said to her, "Confess then!" she owned that she, with the help of the sheriff, had contrived all the witchcraft in the village, and that my child was as innocent thereof as the blessed sun in heaven. Howbeit that the sheriff had the greatest guilt, inasmuch as he was a warlock and a witch's priest, and had a spirit far stronger than hers, called Dudaim, [Footnote: This remarkable word occurs in the I Mos. xxx. 15 ff. as the name of a plant which produces fruitfulness in women; but the commentators are by no means agreed as to its nature and its properties. The LXX. render it by _Mandragoras_, which has been understood by the most eminent ancient and modern theologians to mean the mandrake (Alraunwurzel) so famous in the history of witchcraft. In many instances the devils, strangely enough, receive Christian names; thus the familiar spirit of old Lizzie is afterwards called Kit, _i.e._, Christopher.] which spirit had given her such a blow on the head in the night as she should never recover. This same Dudaim it was that had raked up the crops, heaped sand over the amber, made the storm, and dropped the frog into my daughter her lap; _item_, carried off her old goodman through the air. And when I asked her how that could be, seeing that her goodman had been a child of God until very near his end, and much given to prayer; albeit I had indeed marvelled why he had other thoughts in his last illness; she answered, that one day he had seen her spirit, which she kept in a chest, in the shape of a black cat, and whose name was Kit, and had threatened that he would tell me of it; whereupon she, being frightened, had caused her spirit to make him so ill that he despaired of ever getting over it. Thereupon she had comforted him, saying that she would presently heal him if he would deny God, who, as he well saw, could not help him. This he promised to do; and when she had straightway made him quite hearty again, they took the silver which I had scraped off the new sacrament cup, and went by night down to the sea-shore, where he had to throw it into the sea with these words, "When this silver returns again to the chalice, then shall my soul return to God." Whereupon the sheriff, who was by, re-baptized him in the name of Satan, and called him Jack. He had had no sponsors save only herself, old Lizzie. Moreover that on St. John's Eve, when he went with them to Blockula for the first time (the Herrenberg [Footnote: A hill near Coserow. In almost all trials of witches hills of this kind in the neighbourhood of the accused are mentioned, where the devil, on Walpurgis Night and St. John's Eve, feasts, dances, and wantons with them, and where warlock priests administer Satanic sacraments, which are mere mockeries of those of Divine institution.] was their Blockula), they had talked of my daughter, and Satan himself had sworn to the sheriff that he should have her. For that he would show the old one (wherewith the villain meant God) what he could do, and that he would make the carpenter's son sweat for vexation (fie upon thee, thou arch villain, that thou could'st thus speak of my blessed Saviour!). Whereupon her old goodman had grumbled, and as they had never rightly trusted him, the spirit Dudaim one day flew off with him through the air by the sheriff's order, seeing that her own spirit, called Kit, was too weak to carry him. That the same Dudaim had also been the woodpecker who afterwards 'ticed my daughter and old Paasch to the spot with his cries, in order to ruin her. But that the giant who had appeared on the Streckelberg was not a devil, but the young lord of Mellenthin himself, as her spirit, Kit, had told her. And this she said was nothing but the truth, whereby she would live and die; and she begged me, for the love of God, to take pity upon her, and, after her repentant confession, to speak forgiveness of her sins, and to give her the Lord's Supper; for that her spirit stood there behind the stove, grinning like a rogue, because he saw that it was all up with her now. But I answered, "I would sooner give the sacrament to an old sow than to thee, thou accursed witch, who not only didst give over thine own husband to Satan, but hast likewise tortured me and my poor child almost unto death with pains like those of hell." Before she could make any answer, a loathsome insect, about as long as my finger, and with a yellow tail, crawled in under the door of the prison. When she espied it, she gave a yell, such as I never before heard, and never wish to hear again. For once, when I was in Silesia, in my youth, I saw one of the enemy's soldiers spear a child before its mother's face, and I thought _that_ a fearful shriek which the mother gave; but her cry was child's play to the cry of old Lizzie. All my hair stood on end, and her own red hair grew so stiff that it was like the twigs of the broom whereon she lay; and then she howled, "That is the spirit Dudaim, whom the accursed sheriff has sent to me--the sacrament, for the love of God, the sacrament!--I will confess a great deal more--I have been a witch these thirty years!--the sacrament, the sacrament!" While she thus bellowed and flung about her arms and legs, the loathsome insect rose into the air, and buzzed and whizzed about her where she lay, insomuch that it was fearful to see and to hear. And this she-devil called by turns on God, on her spirit Kit, and on me, to help her, till the insect all of a sudden darted into her open jaws, whereupon she straightway gave up the ghost, and turned all black and blue like a blackberry. I heard nothing more save that the window rattled, not very loud, but as though one had thrown a pea against it, whereby I straightway perceived that Satan had just flown through it with her soul. May the all-merciful God keep every mother's child from such an end, for the sake of Jesus Christ our blessed Lord and Saviour! Amen. As soon as I was somewhat recovered, which, however, was not for a long time, inasmuch as my blood had turned to ice, and my feet were as stiff as a stake, I began to call out after the impudent constable, but he was no longer in the prison. Thereat I greatly marvelled, seeing that I had seen him there but just before the vermin crawled in, and straightway I suspected no good, as, indeed, it turned out; for when at last he came upon my calling him, and I told him to let this carrion be carted out which had just died in the name of the devil, he did as though he was amazed; and when I desired him that he would bear witness to the innocence of my daughter, which the old hag had confessed on her deathbed, he pretended to be yet more amazed, and said that he had heard nothing. This went through my heart like a sword, and I leaned against a pillar without, where I stood for a long time: but as soon as I was come to myself I went to _Dom. Consul_, who was about to go to Usedom, and already sat in his coach. At my humble prayer he went back into the judgment-chamber with the _Camerarius_ and the _Scriba_, whereupon I told all that had taken place, and how the wicked constable denied that he had heard the same. But they say that I talked a great deal of nonsense beside; among other things that all the little fishes had swam into the vault to release my daughter. Nevertheless, _Dom. Consul_. who often shook his head, sent for the impudent constable, and asked him for his testimony. But the fellow pretended that as soon as he saw that old Lizzie wished to confess, he had gone away, so as not to get any more hard words, wherefore he had heard nothing. Hereupon I, as _Dom. Consul_ afterwards told the pastor of Benz, clenched my fists and answered, "What, thou arch rogue, didst thou not crawl about the room in the shape of a reptile?" whereupon he would hearken to me no longer, thinking me distraught, nor would he make the constable take an oath, but left me standing in the midst of the room, and got into his coach again. Neither do I know how I got out of the room; but next morning when the sun rose, and I found myself lying in bed at Master Seep his ale-house, the whole _casus_ seemed to me like a dream; neither was I able to rise, but lay a-bed all the blessed Saturday and Sunday, talking all manner of _allotria_. It was not till towards evening on Sunday, when I began to vomit and threw up green bile (no wonder!), that I got somewhat better. About this time _Pastor Benzensis_ came to my bedside, and told me how distractedly I had borne myself, but so comforted me from the Word of God, that I was once more able to pray from my heart. May the merciful God reward my dear gossip, therefore, at the day of judgment! For prayer is almost as brave a comforter as the Holy Ghost Himself, from whom it comes; and I shall ever consider that so long as a man can still pray, his misfortunes are not unbearable, even though in all else "his flesh and his heart faileth" (Ps. lxxiii.). CHAPTER XXV. _How Satan sifted me like wheat, whereas my daughter withstood him right bravely._ On Monday I left my bed betimes, and as I felt in passable good case, I went up to the castle to see whether I might peradventure get to my daughter. But I could not find either constable, albeit I had brought a few groats with me to give them as beer-money; neither would the folks that I met tell me where they were; _item_, the impudent constable his wife, who was in the kitchen making brimstone matches. And when I asked her when her husband would come back, she said not before to-morrow morning early; _item_, that the other constable would not be here any sooner. Hereupon I begged her to lead me to my daughter herself, at the same time showing her the two groats; but she answered that she had not the keys, and knew not how to get at them: moreover, she said she did not know where my child was now shut up, seeing that I would have spoken to her through the door; _item_, the cook, the huntsman, and whomsoever else I met in my sorrow, said they knew not in what hole the witch might lie. Hereupon I went all round about the castle, and laid my ear against every little window that looked as though it might be her window, and cried, "Mary, my child, where art thou?" _Item_, at every grating I found I kneeled down, bowed my head, and called in like manner into the vault below. But all in vain; I got no answer anywhere. The sheriff at length saw what I was about, and came down out of the castle to me with a very gracious air, and taking me by the hand, he asked me what I sought? But when I answered him that I had not seen my only child since last Thursday, and prayed him to show pity upon me, and let me be led to her, he said that could not be, but that I was to come up into his chamber, and talk further of the matter. By the way he said, "Well, so the old witch told you fine things about me, but you see how Almighty God has sent His righteous judgment upon her. She has long been ripe for the fire; but my great long-suffering, wherein a good magistrate should ever strive to be like unto the Lord, has made me overlook it till _datum_, and in return for my goodness she raises this outcry against me." And when I replied, "How does your lordship know that the witch raised such an outcry against you?" he first began to stammer, and then said, "Why, you yourself charged me thereon before the judge. But I bear you no anger therefor, and God knows that I pity you, who are a poor weak old man, and would gladly help you if I were able." Meanwhile he led me up four or five flights of stairs, so that I, old man that I am, could follow him no further, and stood still gasping for breath. But he took me by the hand and said, "Come, I must first show you how matters really stand, or I fear you will not accept my help, but will plunge yourself into destruction." Hereupon we stepped out upon a terrace at the top of the castle, which looked toward the water; and the villain went on to say, "Reverend Abraham, can you see well afar off?" and when I answered that I once could see very well, but that the many tears I had shed had now peradventure dimmed my eyes, he pointed to the Streckelberg, and said, "Do you then see nothing there?" _Ego_. "Naught save a black speck, which I cannot make out." _Ille_. "Know then that that is the pile whereon your daughter is to burn at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, and which the constables are now raising." When this hell-hound had thus spoken, I gave a loud cry and swounded. O blessed Lord! I know not how I lived through such distress; Thou alone didst strengthen me beyond nature, in order, "after so much weeping and wailing, to heap joys and blessings upon me;" without Thee I never could have lived through such misery: "therefore to Thy name ever be all honour and glory, O Thou God of Israel!" [Footnote: Tobit iii. 22, 23, Luther's Version.] When I came again to myself I lay on a bed in a fine room, and perceived a taste in my mouth like wine. But as I saw none near me save the sheriff, who held a pitcher in his hand, I shuddered and closed mine eyes, considering what I should say or do. This he presently observed, and said, "Do not shudder thus; I mean well by you, and only wish to put a question to you, which you must answer me on your conscience as a priest. Say, reverend Abraham, which is the greater sin, to commit whoredom, or to take the lives of two persons?" and when I answered him, "To take the lives of two persons," he went on, "Well, then, is not that what your stubborn child is about to do? Rather than give herself up to me, who have ever desired to save her, and who can even yet save her, albeit her pile is now being raised, she will take away her own life and that of her wretched father, for I scarcely think that you, poor man, will outlive this sorrow. Wherefore do you, for God His sake, persuade her to think better of it while I am yet able to save her. For know that about ten miles from hence I have a small house in the midst of the forest, where no human being ever goes; thither will I send her this very night, and you may dwell there with her all the days of your life, if so it please you. You shall live as well as you can possibly desire, and to-morrow morning I will spread a report betimes that the witch and her father have run away together during the night, and that nobody knows whither they are gone." Thus spake the serpent to me, as whilom to our mother Eve; and, wretched sinner that I am, the tree of death which he showed me seemed to me also to be a tree of life, so pleasant was it to the eye. Nevertheless I answered, "My child will never save her miserable life by doing aught to peril the salvation of her soul." But now too the serpent was more cunning than all the beasts of the field (especially such an old fool as I), and spake thus: "Why, who would have her peril the salvation of her soul? Reverend Abraham, must I teach you Scripture? Did not our Lord Christ pardon Mary Magdalene, who lived in open whoredom? and did He not speak forgiveness to the poor adulteress who had committed a still greater _crimen_? nay more, doth not St. Paul expressly say that the harlot Rahab was saved, Hebrews xi.? _item_, St. James ii. says the same. But where have ye read that any one was saved who had wantonly taken her own life and that of her father? Wherefore, for the love of God, persuade your child not to give herself up, body and soul, to the devil, by her stubbornness, but to suffer herself to be saved while it is yet time. You can abide with her, and pray away all the sins she may commit, and likewise aid me with your prayers, who freely own that I am a miserable sinner, and have done you much evil, though not so much evil by far, reverend Abraham, as David did to Uriah, and he was saved, notwithstanding he put the man to a shameful death, and afterwards lay with his wife. Wherefore I, poor man, likewise hope to be saved, seeing that my desire for your daughter is still greater than that which this David felt for Bathsheba; and I will gladly make it all up to you twofold as soon as we are in my cottage." When the tempter had thus spoken, methought his words were sweeter than honey, and I answered, "Alas, my lord, I am ashamed to appear before her face with such a proposal." Whereupon he straightway said, "Then do you write it to her; come, here is pen, ink, and paper." And now, like Eve, I took the fruit and ate, and gave it to my child that she might eat also; that is to say, that I recapitulated on paper all that Satan had prompted, but in the Latin tongue, for I was ashamed to write it in mine own; and lastly, I conjured her not to take away her own life and mine, but to submit to the wondrous will of God. Neither were mine eyes opened when I had eaten (that is, written), nor did I perceive that the ink was gall instead of honey, and I translated my letter to the sheriff (seeing that he understood no Latin), smiling like a drunken man the while; whereupon he clapped me on the shoulder, and after I had made fast the letter with his signet, he called his huntsman, and gave it to him to carry to my daughter; _item_, he sent her pen, ink, and paper, together with his signet, in order that she might answer it forthwith. Meanwhile he talked with me right graciously, praising my child and me, and made me drink to him many times from his great pitcher, wherein was most goodly wine; moreover, he went to a cupboard and brought out cakes for me to eat, saying that I should now have such every day. But when the huntsman came back in about half-an-hour, with her answer, and I had read the same, then, first, were mine eyes opened, and I knew good and evil; had I had a fig-leaf, I should have covered them therewith for shame; but as it was, I held my hand over them, and wept so bitterly that the sheriff waxed very wroth, and cursing bade me tell him what she had written. Thereupon I interpreted the letter to him, the which I likewise place here, in order that all may see my folly, and the wisdom of my child. It was as follows:-- IESVS! Pater infelix! Ego eras non magis pallebo rogum aspectura, et rogus non magis erubescet, me suspiciens, quam pallui et iterum erubescui, literas tuas legens. Quid? et te, pium patrem, pium servum Domini, ita Satanas sollicitavit, ut communionem facias cum inimicis meis, et non intelligas: in tali vita esse mortem, et in tali morte vitam? Scilicet si clementissimus Deus Marias Magdalens aliisque ignovit, ignovit, quia resipiscerent ob carnis debilitatem, et non iterum peccarent. Et ego peccarem cum quavis detestatione carnis, et non semel, sed iterum atque iterum sine reversione usque ad mortem? Quomodo clementissimus Deus hoc sceleratissima ignoscere posset? infelix pater! recordare quid mihi dixisti de sanctis martyribus et virginibus Domini, quas omnes mallent vitam quam pudicitiam perdere. His et ego sequar, et sponsus meus, Jesus Christus, et mihi miserse, ut spero, coronam asternam dabit, quamvis eum non minus offendi ob debilitatem carnis ut Maria, et me sontem declaravi, cum insons sum. Fac igitur, ut valeas et ora pro me apud Deum et non apud Satanam, ut et ego mox coram Deo pro te orare possim. MARIA S., captiva. [Footnote: It is evidently written by a female hand, and probably the original letter; there are, however, no traces of sealing-wax or wax upon it, whence I infer that it was sent open, which, from its being written in a foreign language, would have been perfectly safe. I have purposely left the few grammatical errors it contains, as the smallest alteration of this gem would appear to me in the light of a treason against the character of this incomparable woman. Translation. JESUS! Unhappy Father! I shall not to-morrow grow more pale at sight of the pile, nor will the pile grow more red on receiving me, than I grew pale and then red while reading thy letter. How? and hath Satan so tempted thee, pious father, pious servant of the Lord, that thou hast made common cause with mine enemies, and that thou understandest not that in such life is death, and in such death is life? For if the all-merciful God forgave Mary Magdalene and other sinners, He forgave them because they repented of the weakness of their flesh, and sinned not again. And shall I sin with so great abhorrence of the flesh, and that not once but again and again without return even until death? How could the all-merciful God forgive this to the vilest of women? Unhappy father! remember what thou hast told me of the holy martyrs, and of the virgins of the Lord, who all lost their lives rather than lose their chastity. These will I follow, hoping that my spouse Jesus Christ will also give to wretched me a crown of eternal glory, although, indeed, I have not less offended through the weakness of the flesh than Mary, declaring myself to be guilty, whereas I am innocent. Be strong, therefore, and pray for me unto God, and not unto the devil, so that I may soon pray for thee before the face of God. MARY S., a Prisoner.] When the sheriff heard this he flung the pitcher which he held in his hand to the ground, so that it flew in pieces, and cried, "The cursed devil's whore! the constable shall make her squeak for this a good hour longer;" with many more such things beside, which he said in his malice, and which I have now forgotten; but he soon became quite gracious again, and said, "She is foolish; do you go to her and see whether you cannot persuade her to her own good as well as yours; the huntsman shall let you in, and should the fellow listen, give him a good box on the ears in my name; do you hear, reverend Abraham? Go now forthwith and bring me back an answer as quickly as possible!" I therefore followed the huntsman, who led me into a vault where was no light save what fell through a hole no bigger than a crown-piece; and here my daughter sat upon her bed and wept. Any one may guess that I straightway began to weep too, and was no better able to speak than she. We thus lay mute in each other's arms for a long time, until I at last begged her to forgive me for my letter, but of the sheriff his message I said naught, although I had purposed so to do. But before long we heard the sheriff himself call down into the vault from above, "What (and here he gave me a heavy curse) are you doing there so long? Come up this moment, reverend Johannes!" Thus I had scarce time to give her one kiss before the huntsman came back with the keys and forced us to part; albeit we had as yet scarcely spoken, save that I had told her in a few words what had happened with old Lizzie. It would be hard to believe into what grievous anger the sheriff fell when I told him that my daughter remained firm and would not hearken unto him; he struck me on the breast, and said, "Go to the devil then, thou infamous parson!" and when I turned myself away and would have gone, he pulled me back, and said, "If thou breathest but one word of all that has passed, I will have thee burnt too, thou grey-headed old father of a witch; so look to it!" Hereupon I plucked up a heart, and answered that that would be the greatest joy to me, especially if I could be burnt to-morrow with my child. Hereunto he made no answer, but clapped to the door behind me. Well, clap the door as thou wilt, I greatly fear that the just God will one day clap the doors of heaven in thy face! CHAPTER XXVI, _How I received the Holy Sacrament with my daughter and the old maid-servant, and how she was then led for the last time before the court, with the drawn sword and the outcry, to receive sentence._ Now any one would think that during that heavy Tuesday night I should not have been able to close mine eyes; but know, dear reader, that the Lord can do more than we can ask or understand, and that His mercy is new every morning. For toward daybreak I fell asleep as quietly as though I had had no care upon my heart; and when I awoke I was able to pray more heartily than I had done for a long time; so that, in the midst of my tribulation, I wept for joy at such great mercy from the Lord. But I prayed for naught save that He would endow my child with strength and courage to suffer the martyrdom He had laid upon her with Christian patience, and to send His angel to me, woeful man, so to pierce my heart with grief when I should see my child burn, that it might straightway cease to beat, and I might presently follow her. And thus I still prayed when the maid came in all dressed in black, and with the silken raiment of my sweet lamb hanging over her arm; and she told me, with many tears, that the dead-bell had already tolled from the castle tower, for the first time, and that my child had sent for her to dress her, seeing that the court was already come from Usedom, and that in about two hours she was to set out on her last journey. Moreover, she had sent her word that she was to take her some blue and yellow flowers for a garland; wherefore she asked me what flowers she should take; and seeing that a jar, filled with fine lilies and forget-me-nots, stood in my window, which she had placed there yesterday, I said, "Thou canst gather no better flowers for her than these, wherefore do thou carry them to her, and tell her that I will follow thee in about half-an-hour, in order to receive the sacrament with her." Hereupon the faithful old creature prayed me to suffer her to go to the sacrament with us, the which I promised her. And scarce had I dressed myself and put on my surplice when _Pastor Benzensis_ came in at the door and fell upon my neck, weeping, and as mute as a fish. As soon as he came to his speech again he told me of the great _miraculum_ (_dæmonis_ I mean) which had befallen at the burial of old Lizzie. For that, just as the bearers were about to lower the coffin into the grave, a noise was heard therein as though of a carpenter boring through a deal board; wherefore they thought the old hag must be come to life again, and opened the coffin. But there she lay as before, all black and blue in the face and as cold as ice; but her eyes had started wide open, so that all were horror-stricken, and expected some devilish apparition; and, indeed, a live rat presently jumped out of the coffin and ran into a skull which lay beside the grave. Thereupon they all ran away, seeing that old Lizzie had ever been in evil repute as a witch. Howbeit at last he himself went near the grave again, whereupon the rat disappeared, and all the others took courage and followed him. This the man told me, and any one may guess that this was in fact Satan, who had flown down the hag her throat as an insect, whereas his proper shape was that of a rat: albeit I wonder what he could so long have been about in the carrion; unless indeed it were that the evil spirits are as fond of all that is loathsome as the angels of God are of all that is fair and lovely. Be that as it may. _Summa_: I was not a little shocked at what he told me, and asked him what he now thought of the sheriff? whereupon he shrugged his shoulders, and said, that he had indeed been a wicked fellow as long as he could remember him, and that it was full ten years since he had given him any first-fruits; but that he did not believe that he was a warlock, as old Lizzie had said. For although he had indeed never been to the table of the Lord in his church, he had heard that he often went, at Stettin, with his princely Highness the Duke, and that the pastor at the castle church had shown him the entry in his communion-book. Wherefore he likewise could not believe that he had brought this misery upon my daughter, if she were innocent, as the hag had said; besides, that my daughter had freely confessed herself a witch. Hereupon I answered, that she had done that for fear of the torture; but that she was not afraid of death; whereupon I told him, with many sighs, how the sheriff had yesterday tempted me, miserable and unfaithful servant, to evil, insomuch that I had been willing to sell my only child to him and to Satan, and was not worthy to receive the sacrament to-day. Likewise how much more steadfast a faith my daughter had than I, as he might see from her letter, which I still carried in my pocket; herewith I gave it into his hand, and when he had read it, he sighed as though he had been himself a father, and said, "Were this true, I should sink into the earth for sorrow; but come, brother, come, that I may prove her faith myself." Hereupon we went up to the castle, and on our way we found the greensward before the hunting-lodge, _item_, the whole space in front of the castle, already crowded with people, who, nevertheless, were quite quiet as we went by: we gave our names again to the huntsman. (I have never been able to remember his name, seeing that he was a Polak; he was not, however, the same fellow who wooed my child, and whom the sheriff had therefore turned off.) The man presently ushered us into a fine large room, whither my child had been led when taken out of her prison. The maid had already dressed her, and she looked lovely as an angel. She wore the chain of gold with the effigy round her neck again, _item_, the garland in her hair, and she smiled as we entered, saying, "I am ready!" Whereat the reverend Martinus was sorely angered and shocked, saying, "Ah, thou ungodly woman, let no one tell me further of thine innocence! Thou art about to go to the Holy Sacrament, and from thence to death, and thou flauntest as a child of this world about to go to the dancing-room." Whereupon she answered and said, "Be not wroth with me, dear godfather, because that I would go into the presence of my good King of Heaven in the same garments wherein I appeared some time since before the good King of Sweden. For it strengthens my weak and trembling flesh, seeing I hope that my righteous Saviour will in like manner take me to His heart, and will also hang His effigy upon my neck when I stretch out my hands to Him in all humility, and recite my _carmen_, saying, 'O Lamb of God, innocently slain upon the cross, give me Thy peace, O Jesu!'" These words softened my dear gossip, and he spoke, saying, "Ah, child, child, I thought to have reproached thee, but thou hast constrained me to weep with thee: art thou then indeed innocent?" "Verily," said she, "to you, my honoured god-father, I may now own that I am innocent, as truly as I trust that God will aid me in my last hour through Jesus Christ. Amen." When the maid heard this, she made such outcries that I repented that I had suffered her to be present, and we all had enough to do to comfort her from the Word of God till she became somewhat more tranquil; and when this was done my dear gossip thus spake to my child: "If, indeed, thou dost so steadfastly maintain thine innocence, it is my duty, according to my conscience as a priest, to inform the worshipful court thereof;" and he was about to leave the room. But she withheld him, and fell upon the ground and clasped his knees, saying, "I beseech you, by the wounds of Jesus, to be silent. They would stretch me on the rack again, and uncover my nakedness, and I, wretched weak woman, would in such torture confess all that they would have me, especially if my father again be there, whereby both my soul and my body are tortured at once: wherefore stay, I pray you, stay; is it then a misfortune to die innocent, and is it not better to die innocent than guilty?" My good gossip at last gave way, and after standing awhile and praying to himself, he wiped away his tears, and then spake the exhortation to confession, in the words of Isa. xliii. I, 2: "But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and He that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not; for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name: thou art Mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour." And when he had ended this comfortable address, and asked her whether she would willingly bear until her last hour that cross which the most merciful God, according to His unsearchable will, had laid upon her, she spake such beautiful words that my gossip afterwards said he should not forget them so long as he should live, seeing that he had never witnessed a bearing at once so full of faith and joy, and withal so deeply sorrowful. She spake after this manner: "Oh, holy cross, which my Jesus hath sanctified by His innocent suffering; oh, dear cross, which is laid upon me by the hand of a merciful Father; oh, blessed cross, whereby I am made like unto my Lord Jesus, and am called unto eternal glory and blessedness: how! shall I not willingly bear thee, thou sweet cross of my bridegroom, of my brother?" The reverend Johannes had scarce given us absolution, and after this, with many tears, the Holy Sacrament, when we heard a loud trampling upon the floor, and presently the impudent constable looked into the room and asked whether we were ready, seeing that the worshipful court was now waiting for us; and when he had been told that we were ready, my child would have first taken leave of me, but I forbade her, saying, "Not so; thou knowest that which thou hast promised me; ... 'and whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge: ...where thou diest will I die ...'; [Footnote: Ruth i. 16,] if that the Lord, as I hope, will hear the ardent sighs of my poor soul." Hereupon she let me go, and embraced only the old maid-servant, thanking her for all the kindness she had shown her from her youth up, and begging her not to go with her to make her death yet more bitter by her cries. The faithful old creature was unable for a long time to say a word for tears. Howbeit at last she begged forgiveness of my child, for that she had unwittingly accused her, and said, that out of her wages she had bought five pounds' weight of flax to hasten her death; that the shepherd of Pudgla had that very morning taken it with him to Coserow, and that she should wind it closely round her body; for that she had seen how old wife Schurne, who was burnt in Liepe, had suffered great torments before she came to her death, by reason of the damp wood. But ere my child could thank her for this, the dreadful outcry of blood began in the judgment-chamber; for a voice cried as loudly as might be, "Woe upon the accursed witch, Mary Schweidler, because that she hath fallen off from the living God!" Then all the folk without cried, "Woe upon the accursed witch!" When I heard this I fell back against the wall, but my sweet child stroked my cheeks with her darling hands, and said, "Father, father, do but remember that the people likewise cried out against the innocent Jesus, 'Crucify Him, crucify Him!' Shall not we then drink of the cup which our heavenly Father hath prepared for us?" Hereupon the door opened, and the constable walked in, amid a great tumult among the people, holding a drawn sword in his hand which he bowed thrice before my child and cried, "Woe upon the accursed witch, Mary Schweidler, because that she hath fallen off from the living God!" and all the folks in the hall and without the castle cried as loud as they could, "Woe upon the accursed witch!" Hereupon he said, "Mary Schweidler, come before the high and worshipful court, to hear sentence of death passed upon thee!" Whereupon she followed him with us two miserable men (for _Pastor Benzensis_ was no less cast down than myself). As for the old maid-servant, she lay on the ground for dead. After we had with great pains pushed our way through all the people, the constable stood still before the open judgment-chamber, and once more bowed his sword before my child, and cried for the third time, "Woe upon the accursed witch, Mary Schweidler, because that she hath fallen off from the living God!" And all the people, as well as the cruel judges themselves, cried as loud as they could, "Woe upon the accursed witch!" When we had entered the room, _Dom. Consul_ first asked my worthy gossip whether the witch had abode by her free avowal in confession; whereupon, after considering a short time, he answered, that he had best ask herself, for there she stood. Accordingly, taking up a paper which lay before him on the table, he spake as follows--"Mary Schweidler, now that thou hast confessed, and received the holy and most honourable sacrament of the Lord's Supper, answer me once again these following questions:-- 1. Is it true that thou hast fallen off from the living God and given thyself up to Satan? 2. Is it true that thou hadst a spirit called _Disidæmonia,_ who re-baptized thee and carnally knew thee? 3. Is it true that thou hast done all manner of mischief to the cattle? 4. Is it true that Satan appeared to thee on the Streckelberg in the likeness of a hairy giant?" When she had with many sighs said "Yes" to all these questions, he rose, took a wand in one hand and a second paper in the other, put his spectacles on his nose, and said, "Now, then, hear thy sentence." (This sentence I since copied: he would not let me see the other _Acta_, but pretended that they were at Wolgast. The sentence, however, was word for word as follows.) "We, the sheriff and the justices appointed to serve the high and worshipful criminal court. Inasmuch as Mary Schweidler, the daughter of Abraham Schweidlerus, the pastor of Coserow, hath, after the appointed inquisition, repeatedly made free confession, that she hath a devil named _Disidæmonia_, the which did re-baptize her in the sea, and did also know her carnally; _item_, that she by his help did mischief to the cattle; that he also appeared to her on the Streckelberg in the likeness of a hairy giant. We do therefore by these presents make known and direct, that _Rea_ be first duly torn four times on each breast with red-hot iron pincers, and after that be burned to death by fire, as a rightful punishment to herself and a warning to others. Nevertheless, we, in pity for her youth, are pleased of our mercy to spare her the tearing with red-hot pincers, so that she shall only suffer death by the simple punishment of fire. Wherefore she is hereby condemned and judged accordingly on the part of the criminal court. "_Publicatum_ at the castle of Pudgla, the 30th day _mensis Augusti, anno Salutis_ 1630." [Footnote: Readers who are unacquainted with the atrocious administration of justice in those days, will be surprised at this rapid and arbitrary mode of proceeding. But I have seen authentic witch-trials wherein a mere notary condemned the accused to the torture and to death without the smallest hesitation; and it may be considered as a mark of humanity whenever the acts on which judgment was given were sent to an university, or to some other tribunal. For the sentence of death appears to have been almost invariably passed by the inferior courts, and no appeal seems to have been possible; indeed in these affairs their worships, as in this case, usually made incredible haste, which, it must beadmitted, is perhaps the only good quality which the modern courts of justice might borrow from the old ones.] As he spake the last word he brake his wand in two and threw the pieces before the feet of my innocent lamb, saying to the constable, "Now, do your duty!" But so many folks, both men and women, threw themselves on the ground to seize the pieces of the wand (seeing they are said to be good for the gout in the joints, item, for cattle when troubled with lice), that the constable fell to the earth over a woman who was on her knees before him, and his approaching death was thus foreshadowed to him by the righteous God. Something of the same sort likewise befell the sheriff now for the second time; for when the worshipful court rose, throwing down tables, stools, and benches, a table, under which two boys were fighting for the pieces of the wand, fell right upon his foot, whereupon he flew into a violent rage, and threatened the people with his fist, saying that they should have fifty right good lashes apiece, both men and women, if they were not quiet forthwith, and did not depart peaceably out of the room. This frighted them, and after the people were gone out into the street, the constable took a rope out of his pocket, wherewith he bound my lamb her hands so tightly behind her back that she cried aloud; but when she saw how this wrung my heart, she straightway constrained herself and said, "O father, remember that it fared no better with the blessed Saviour!" Howbeit, when my dear gossip, who stood behind her, saw that her little hands, and more especially her nails, had turned black and blue, he spoke for her to the worshipful court, whereupon the abominable sheriff only said, "Oh, let her be; let her feel what it is to fall off from the living God." But _Dom. Consul_ was more merciful, inasmuch as, after feeling the cords, he bade the constable bind her hands less cruelly and slacken the rope a little, which accordingly he was forced to do. But my dear gossip was not content herewith, and begged that she might sit in the cart without being bound, so that she should be able to hold her hymn-book, for he had summoned the school to sing a hymn by the way for her comfort, and he was ready to answer for it with his own head that she should not escape out of the cart. Moreover, it is the custom for fellows with pitchforks always to go with the carts wherein condemned criminals, and more especially witches, are carried to execution. But this the cruel sheriff would not suffer, and the rope was left upon her hands, and the impudent constable seized her by the arm and led her from the judgment-chamber. But in the hall we saw a great _scandalum_, which again pierced my very heart. For the housekeeper and the impudent constable his wife were fighting for my child her bed, and her linen, and wearing apparel, which the housekeeper had taken for herself, and which the other woman wanted to have. The latter now called to her husband to help her, whereupon he straightway let go my daughter and struck the housekeeper on her mouth with his fist, so that the blood ran out therefrom, and she shrieked and wailed fearfully to the sheriff, who followed us with the court. He threatened them both in vain, and said that when he came back he would inquire into the matter and give to each her due share. But they would not hearken to this, until my daughter asked _Dom. Consul_ whether every dying person, even a condemned criminal, had power to leave his goods and chattels to whomsoever he would? And when he answered, "Yes, all but the clothes, which belong of right to the executioner," she said, "Well, then, the constable may take my clothes, but none shall have my bed save my faithful old maid-servant Ilse!" Hereupon the housekeeper began to curse and revile my child loudly, who heeded her not, but stepped out at the door toward the cart, where there stood so many people that naught could be seen save head against head. The folks crowded about us so tumultuously that the sheriff, who, meanwhile, had mounted his grey horse, constantly smote them right and left across their eyes with his riding-whip, but they nevertheless would scarce fall back. Howbeit, at length he cleared the way, and when about ten fellows with long pitchforks, who for the most part also had rapiers at their sides, had placed themselves round about our cart, the constable lifted my daughter up into it, and bound her fast to the rail. Old Paasch, who stood by, lifted me up, and my dear gossip was likewise forced to be lifted in, so weak had he become from all the distress. He motioned his sexton, Master Krekow, to walk before the cart with the school, and bade him from time to time lead a verse of the goodly hymn, "On God alone I rest my fate," which he promised to do. And here I will also note, that I myself sat down upon the straw by my daughter, and that our dear confessor the reverend Martinus sat backwards. The constable was perched up behind with his drawn sword. When all this was done, _item_, the court mounted up into another carriage, the sheriff gave the order to set out. CHAPTER XXVII. _Of that which befell us by the way--Item, of the fearful death of the sheriff at the mill._ We met with many wonders by the way, and with great sorrow; for hard by the bridge, over the brook which runs into the Schmolle, [Footnote: A lake near Pudgla.] stood the housekeeper her hateful boy, who beat a drum and cried aloud, "Come to the roast goose! come to the roast goose!" whereupon the crowd set up a loud laugh, and called out after him, "Yes, indeed, to the roast goose! to the roast goose!" Howbeit, when Master Krekow led the second verse the folks became somewhat quieter again, and most of them joined in singing it from their books, which they had brought with them. But when he ceased singing awhile the noise began again as bad as before. Some cried out, "The devil hath given her these clothes, and hath adorned her after that fashion;" and seeing the sheriff had ridden on before, they came close round the cart, and felt her garments, more especially the women and young maidens. Others, again, called loudly, as the young varlet had done, "Come to the roast goose! come to the roast goose!" whereupon one fellow answered, "She will not let herself be roasted yet; mind ye that: she will quench the fire!" This, and much filthiness beside, which I may not for very shame write down, we were forced to hear, and it especially cut me to the heart to hear a fellow swear that he would have some of her ashes, seeing he had not been able to get any of the wand; and that naught was better for the fever and the gout than the ashes of a witch. I motioned the _Custos_ to begin singing again, whereupon the folks were once more quiet for a while--_i.e._, for so long as the verse lasted; but afterwards they rioted worse than before. But we were now come among the meadows, and when my child saw the beauteous flowers which grew along the sides of the ditches, she fell into deep thought, and began again to recite aloud the sweet song of St. Augustinus as follows:-- "Flos perpetuus rosarum ver agit perpetuum, Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum, Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt, Pigmentorum spirat odor liquor et aromatum, Pendent porna noridorum non lapsura nemorum Non alternat luna vices, sol vel cursus syderum Agnus est foelicis urbis lumen inocciduum." [Footnote: "Around them, bright with endless Spring, perpetual roses bloom, Warm balsams gratefully exude luxurious perfume; Red crocuses, and lilies white, shine dazzling in the sun; Green meadows yield them harvests green, and streams with honey run; Unbroken droop the laden boughs, with heavy fruitage bent, Of incense and of odours strange the air is redolent: And neither sun, nor moon, nor stars dispense their changeful light, But the Lamb's eternal glory makes the happy city bright!"] By this _Casus_ we gained that all the folk ran cursing away from the cart, and followed us at the distance of a good musket-shot, thinking that my child was calling on Satan to help her. Only one lad, of about five-and-twenty, whom, however, I did not know, tarried a few paces behind the cart, until his father came, and seeing he would not go away willingly, pushed him into the ditch, so that he sank up to his loins in the water. Thereat even my poor child smiled, and asked me whether I did not know any more Latin hymns wherewith to keep the stupid and foul-mouthed people still further from us. But, dear reader, how could I then have been able to recite Latin hymns, even had I known any? But my _Confrater_, the reverend Martinus, knew such an one; albeit, it is indeed heretical; nevertheless, seeing that it above measure pleased my child, and that she made him repeat to her sundry verses thereof three and four times, until she could say them after him, I said naught; otherwise I have ever been very severe against aught that is heretical. Howbeit, I comforted myself therewith that our Lord God would forgive her in consideration of her ignorance. And the first line ran as follows:--_Dies iræ, dies ilia._ [Footnote: Day of wrath, that dreadful day; one of the most beautiful of the Catholic hymns.] But these two verses pleased her more than all the rest, and she recited them many times with great edification, wherefore I will insert them here:-- "Judex ergo cum sedebit Quidquid latet apparebit Nil inultum remanebit: _Item_, Rex tremendæ majestatis Qui salvandos salvas gratis Salva me, fons pietatis!" [Footnote: "The judge ascends his awful throne, He makes each secret sin be known, And all with shame confess their own. Thou mighty formidable king! Thou mercy's unexhausted spring, Some comfortable pity bring."--_Old Version._] When the men with the pitchforks, who were round about the cart, heard this, and at the same time saw a heavy storm coming up from the Achterwater, [Footnote: A wash formed by the river Peene.] they straightway thought no other but that my child had made it; and, moreover, the folk behind cried out, "The witch hath done this; the damned witch hath done this!" and all the ten, save one who stayed behind, jumped over the ditch, and ran away. But _Dom. Consul_, who, together with the worshipful court, drove behind us, no sooner saw this than he called to the constable, "What is the meaning of all this?" Whereupon the constable cried aloud to the sheriff, who was a little way on before us, but who straightway turned him about, and when he had heard the cause, called after the fellows that he would hang them all upon the first tree, and feed his falcons with their flesh, if they did not return forthwith. This threat had its effect; and when they came back he gave each of them about half-a-dozen strokes with his riding-whip, whereupon they tarried in their places, but as far off from the cart as they could for the ditch. Meanwhile, however, the storm came up from the southward, with thunder, lightning, hail, and such a wind, as though the all-righteous God would manifest His wrath against these ruthless murderers; and the tops of the lofty beeches around us were beaten together like besoms, so that our cart was covered with leaves as with hail, and no one could hear his own voice for the noise. This happened just as we were entering the forest from the convent dam, and the sheriff now rode close behind us, beside the coach wherein was _Dom. Consul_. Moreover, just as we were crossing the bridge over the mill-race, we were seized by the blast, which swept up a hollow from the Achterwater with such force that we conceived it must drive our cart down the abyss, which was at least forty feet deep or more; and seeing that, at the same time, the horses did as though they were upon ice, and could not stand, the driver halted to let the storm pass over, the which the sheriff no sooner perceived, than he galloped up and bade him go on forthwith. Whereupon the man flogged on the horses, but they slipped about after so strange a fashion, that our guards with the pitchforks fell back, and my child cried aloud for fear; and when we were come to the place where the great waterwheel turned just below us, the driver fell with his horse, which broke one of its legs. Then the constable jumped down from the cart, but straightway fell too, on the slippery ground; Item, the driver, after getting on his legs again, fell a second time. Hereupon the sheriff with a curse spurred on his grey charger, which likewise began to slip as our horses had also done. Nevertheless, he came sliding towards us, without, however, falling down; and when he saw that the horse with the broken leg still tried to get up, but always straightway fell again on the slippery ground, he hallooed and beckoned the fellows with pitchforks to come and unharness the mare; _item_, to push the cart over the bridge, lest it should be carried down the precipice. Presently a long flash of lightning shot into the water below us, followed by a clap of thunder so sudden and so awful that the whole bridge shook, and the sheriff his horse (our horses stood quite still) started back a few paces, lost its footing, and, together with its rider, shot headlong down upon the great mill-wheel below, whereupon a fearful cry arose from all those that stood behind us on the bridge. For a while naught could be seen for the white foam, until the sheriff his legs and body were borne up into the air by the wheel, his head being stuck fast between the fellies; and thus, fearful to behold, he went round and round upon the wheel. Naught ailed the grey charger, which swam about in the mill-pond below. When I saw this, I seized the hand of my innocent lamb, and cried, "Behold, Mary, our Lord God yet liveth! 'And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly; yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. Then did he beat them small as the dust before the wind; he did cast them out as the dirt in the streets.' [Footnote: Ps. xviii. 10, 42.] Look down, and see what the Almighty God hath done." While she hereupon raised her eyes toward heaven with a sigh, we heard _Dom. Consul_ calling out behind us as loudly as he could: and, seeing that none could understand his words for the fearful storm and the tumult of the waters, he jumped down from the coach, and would have crossed the bridge on foot, but straightway he fell upon his nose, so that it bled, and he crept back again on his hands and feet, and held a long talk with _Dom. Camerarius_, who, howbeit, did not stir out of the coach. Meanwhile, the driver and the constable had unyoked the maimed horse, bound it, and dragged it off the bridge, and now they came back to the cart, and bade us get down therefrom, and cross the bridge on foot, the which we did after that the constable had unbound my child, with many curses and ill words, threatening that, in return for her malice, he would keep her roasting till late in the evening. (I could not blame him much therefore; for truly this was a strange thing!) But, albeit, my child herself got safe across; we two--I mean reverend Martinus and myself--like all the others, fell two or three times to the ground. At length we all, by God His grace, got safe and sound to the miller's house, where the constable delivered my child into the miller his hands, to guard her on forfeit of his life, while he ran down to the mill-pond to save the sheriff his grey charger. The driver was bidden the while to get the cart and the other horses off the bewitched bridge. We had, however, stood but a short time with the miller, under the great oak before his door, when _Dom. Consul_ with the worshipful court, and all the folks, came over the little bridge, which is but a couple of musket shots off from the first one, and he could scarce prevent the crowd from falling upon my child and tearing her in pieces, seeing that they all, as well as _Dom. Consul_ himself, imagined that none other but she had brewed the storm, and bewitched the bridge (especially as she herself had not fallen thereon), and had likewise caused the sheriff his death; all of which, nevertheless, were foul lies, as ye shall hereafter hear. He, therefore, railed at her for a cursed she-devil, who, even after having confessed and received the holy Sacrament, had not yet renounced Satan; but that naught should save her, and she should, nevertheless, receive her reward. And, seeing that she kept silence, I hereupon answered, "Did he not see that the all-righteous God had so ordered it, that the sheriff, who would have robbed my innocent child of her honour and her life, had here forfeited his own life as a fearful example to others?" But _Dom. Consul_ would not see this, and said that a child might perceive that our Lord God had not made this storm, or did I peradventure believe that our Lord God had likewise bewitched the bridge? I had better cease to justify my wicked child, and rather begin to exhort her to repent, seeing that this was the second time that she had brewed a storm, and that no man with a grain of sense could believe what I said, &c. Meanwhile the miller had already stopped the mill, _item,_ turned off the water, and some four or five fellows had gone with the constable down to the great water-wheel, to take the sheriff out of the fellies, wherein he had till _datum_ still been carried round and round. This they could not do until they had first sawn out one of the fellies; and when at last they brought him to the bank, his neck was found to be broken, and he was as blue as a corn-flower. Moreover, his throat was frightfully torn, and the blood ran out of his nose and mouth. If the people had not reviled my child before, they reviled her doubly now, and would have thrown dirt and stones at her, had not the worshipful court interfered with might and main, saying that she would presently receive her well-deserved punishment. Also, my dear gossip, the reverend Martinus, climbed up into the cart again, and admonished the people not to forestall the law; and seeing that the storm had somewhat abated, he could now be heard. And when they had become somewhat more quiet, _Dom. Consul_ left the corpse of the sheriff in charge with the miller, until such time as, by God's help, he should return. _Item,_ he caused the grey charger to be tied up to the oak-tree till the same time, seeing that the miller swore that he had no room in the mill, inasmuch as his stable was filled with straw; but that he would give the grey horse some hay, and keep good watch over him. And now were we wretched creatures forced to get into the cart again, after that the unsearchable will of God had once more dashed all our hopes. The constable gnashed his teeth with rage, while he took the cords out of his pocket to bind my poor child to the rail withal. As I saw right well what he was about to do, I pulled a few groats out of my pocket, and whispered into his ear, "Be merciful, for she cannot possibly run away, and do you hereafter help her to die quickly, and you shall get ten groats more from me!" This worked well, and albeit he pretended before the people to pull the ropes tight, seeing they all cried out with might and main, "Haul hard, haul hard," in truth, he bound her hands more gently than before, and even without making her fast to the rail; but he sat up behind us again with the naked sword, and after that _Dom. Consul_ had prayed aloud, "God the Father, dwell with us," likewise the _Custos_ had led another hymn (I know not what he sang, neither does my child), we went on our way, according to the unfathomable will of God, after this fashion: the worshipful court went before, whereas all the folks to our great joy fell back, and the fellows with the pitchforks lingered a good way behind us, now that the sheriff was dead. CHAPTER XXVIII. _How my daughter was at length saved by the help of the all-merciful, yea, of the all-merciful God._ Meanwhile, by reason of my unbelief, wherewith Satan again tempted me, I had become so weak that I was forced to lean my back against the constable his knees, and expected not to live even till we should come to the mountain; for the last hope I had cherished was now gone, and I saw that my innocent lamb was in the same plight. Moreover, the reverend Martinus began to upbraid her, saying that he, too, now saw that all her oaths were lies, and that she really could brew storms. Hereupon she answered, with a smile, although, indeed, she was as white as a sheet, "Alas, reverend godfather, do you then really believe that the weather and the storms no longer obey our Lord God? Are storms, then, so rare at this season of the year, that none save the foul fiend can cause them? Nay, I have never broken the baptismal vow you once made in my name, nor will I ever break it, as I hope that God will be merciful to me in my last hour, which is now at hand." But the reverend Martinus shook his head doubtingly, and said, "The evil one must have promised thee much, seeing thou remainest so stubborn even unto thy life's end, and blasphemest the Lord thy God; but wait, and thou wilt soon learn with horror that the devil 'is a liar, and the father of it'" (St. John viii.). Whilst he yet spake this, and more of a like kind, we came to Uekeritze, where all the people, both great and small, rushed out of their doors, also Jacob Schwarten his wife, who, as we afterwards heard, had only been brought to bed the night before, and her goodman came running after her to fetch her back, in vain. She told him he was a fool, and had been one for many a weary day, and that if she had to crawl up the mountain on her bare knees, she would go to see the parson's witch burnt; that she had reckoned upon it for so long, and if he did not let her go, she would give him a thump on the chaps, &c. Thus did the coarse and foul-mouthed people riot around the cart wherein we sat, and as they knew not what had befallen, they ran so near us that the wheel went over the foot of a boy. Nevertheless they all crowded up again, more especially the lasses, and felt my daughter her clothes, and would even see her shoes and stockings, and asked her how she felt. _Item_, one fellow asked whether she would drink somewhat, with many more fooleries besides, till at last, when several came and asked her for her garland and her golden chain, she turned towards me and smiled, saying, "Father, I must begin to speak some Latin again, otherwise the folks will leave me no peace." But it was not wanted this time; for our guards, with the pitchforks, had now reached the hindmost, and, doubtless, told them what had happened, as we presently heard a great shouting behind us, for the love of God to turn back before the witch did them a mischief; and as Jacob Schwarten his wife heeded it not, but still plagued my child to give her her apron to make a christening coat for her baby, for that it was pity to let it be burnt, her goodman gave her such a thump on her back with a knotted stick which he had pulled out of the hedge, that she fell down with loud shrieks; and when he went to help her up she pulled him down by his hair, and, as reverend Martinus said, now executed what she had threatened; inasmuch as she struck him on the nose with her fist with might and main, until the other people came running up to them, and held her back. Meanwhile, however, the storm had almost passed over, and sank down toward the sea. And when we had gone through the little wood, we suddenly saw the Streckelberg before us, covered with people, and the pile and stake upon the top, upon the which the tall constable jumped up when he saw us coming, and beckoned with his cap with all his might. Thereat my senses left me, and my sweet lamb was not much better; for she bent to and fro like a reed, and stretching her bound hands toward heaven, she once more cried out-- "Rex tremendæ majestatis! Qui salvandos salvas gratis, Salva me, fons pietatis!" [Footnote: Vide p. 395.] And, behold, scarce had she spoken these words, when the sun came out and formed a rainbow right over the mountain most pleasant to behold; and it is clear that this was a sign from the merciful God, such as He often gives us, but which we blind and unbelieving men do not rightly mark. Neither did my child heed it; for albeit she thought upon that first rainbow which shadowed forth our troubles, yet it seemed to her impossible that she could now be saved, wherefore she grew so faint, that she no longer heeded the blessed sign of mercy, and her head fell forwards (for she could no longer lean it upon me, seeing that I lay my length at the bottom of the cart), till her garland almost touched my worthy gossip his knees. Thereupon, he bade the driver stop for a moment and pulled out a small flask filled with wine, which he always carries in his pocket when witches are to be burnt, [Footnote: Which so often happened at that time, that in many parishes of Pomerania six or seven of these unhappy women were brought to the stake every year.] in order to comfort them therewith in their terror. (Henceforth, I myself will ever do the like, for this fashion of my dear gossip pleases me well.) He first poured some of this wine down my throat, and afterwards down my child's; and we had scarce come to ourselves again, when a fearful noise and tumult arose among the people behind us, and they not only cried out in deadly fear, "The sheriff is come back! the sheriff is come again!" but as they could neither run away forwards nor backwards (being afraid of the ghost behind and of my child before them), they ran on either side, some rushing into the coppice, and others wading into the Achterwater up to their necks. _Item_, as soon as _Dom. Camerarius_ saw the ghost come out of the coppice with a grey hat and a grey feather, such as the sheriff wore, riding on the grey charger, he crept under a bundle of straw in the cart: and _Dom. Consul_ cursed my child again, and bade the coachmen drive on as madly as they could, even should all the horses die of it, when the impudent constable behind us called to him, "It is not the sheriff, but the young lord of Nienkerken, who will surely seek to save the witch: shall I, then, cut her throat with my sword?" At these fearful words my child and I came to ourselves again, and the fellow had already lift up his naked sword to smite her, seeing _Dom. Consul_ had made him a sign with his hand, when my dear gossip, who saw it, pulled my child with all his strength back into his lap. (May God reward him on the day of judgment, for I never can.) The villain would have stabbed her as she lay in his lap; but the young lord was already there, and seeing what he was about to do, thrust the boar-spear, which he held in his hand, in between the constable's shoulders, so that he fell headlong on the earth, and his own sword, by the guidance of the most righteous God, went into his ribs on one side, and out again at the other. He lay there and bellowed, but the young lord heeded him not, but said to my child, "Sweet maid, God be praised that you are safe!" When, however, he saw her bound hands, he gnashed his teeth, and, cursing her judges, he jumped off his horse, and cut the rope with his sword, which he held in his right hand, took her hand in his, and said, "Alas, sweet maid, how have I sorrowed for you! but I could not save you, as I myself also lay in chains, which you may see from my looks." But my child could answer him never a word, and fell into a swound again for joy; howbeit, she soon came to herself again, seeing my dear gossip still had a little wine by him. Meanwhile the dear young lord did me some injustice, which, however, I freely forgive him; for he railed at me and called me an old woman, who could do naught save weep and wail. Why had I not journeyed after the Swedish king, or why had I not gone to Mellenthin myself to fetch his testimony, as I knew right well what he thought about witchcraft? (But, blessed God, how could I do otherwise than believe the judge, who had been there? Others besides old women would have done the same; and I never once thought of the Swedish king; and say, dear reader, how could I have journeyed after him, and left my own child? But young folks do not think of these things, seeing they know not what a father feels.) Meanwhile, however, _Dom. Camerarius_, having heard that it was the young lord, had again crept out from beneath the straw; _Item, Dom. Consul_ had jumped down from the coach and ran towards us, railing at him loudly, and asking him by what power and authority he acted thus, seeing that he himself had heretofore denounced the ungodly witch? But the young lord pointed with his sword to his people, who now came riding out of the coppice, about eighteen strong, armed with sabres, pikes, and muskets, and said, "There is my authority, and I would let you feel it on your back if I did not know that you were but a stupid ass. When did you hear any testimony from me against this virtuous maiden? You lie in your throat if you say you did." And as _Dom. Consul_ stood and straightway forswore himself, the young lord, to the astonishment of all, related as follows:--That as soon as he heard of the misfortune which had befallen me and my child, he ordered his horse to be saddled forthwith, in order to ride to Pudgla to bear witness to our innocence: this, however, his old father would nowise suffer, thinking that his nobility would receive a stain if it came to be known that his son had conversed with a reputed witch by night on the Streckelberg. He had caused him therefore, as prayers and threats were of no avail, to be bound hand and foot, and confined in the donjon-keep, where till _datum_ an old servant had watched him, who refused to let him escape, notwithstanding he offered him any sum of money; whereupon he fell into the greatest anguish and despair at the thought that innocent blood would be shed on his account; but that the all-righteous God had graciously spared him this sorrow; for his father had fallen sick from vexation, and lay a-bed all this time, and it so happened that this very morning about prayer time, the huntsman, in shooting at a wild duck in the moat, had by chance sorely wounded his father's favourite dog, called Packan, which had crept howling to his father's bedside, and had died there; whereupon the old man, who was weak, was so angered that he was presently seized with a fit and gave up the ghost too. Hereupon his people released him, and after he had closed his father's eyes and prayed an "Our Father" over him, he straightway set out with all the people he could find in the castle, in order to save the innocent maiden. For he testified here himself before all, on the word and honour of a knight, nay, more, by his hopes of salvation, that he himself was that devil which had appeared to the maiden on the mountain in the shape of a hairy giant; for having heard by common report that she ofttimes went thither, he greatly desired to know what she did there, and that from fear of his hard father he disguised himself in a wolf's skin, so that none might know him, and he had already spent two nights there, when on the third the maiden came, and he then saw her dig for amber on the mountain, and that she did not call upon Satan, but recited a Latin _carmen_ aloud to herself. This he would have testified at Pudgla, but, from the cause aforesaid, he had not been able: moreover, his father had laid his cousin, Glaus von Nienkerken, who was there on a visit, in his bed and made him bear false witness; for as _Dom. Consul_ had not seen him (I mean the young lord) for many a long year, seeing he had studied in foreign parts, his father thought that he might easily be deceived, which accordingly happened. When the worthy young lord had stated this before _Dom. Consul_ and all the people, which flocked together on hearing that the young lord was no ghost, I felt as though a millstone had been taken off my heart; and seeing that the people (who had already pulled the constable from under the cart, and crowded round him, like a swarm of bees) cried to me that he was dying, but desired first to confess somewhat to me, I jumped from the cart as lightly as a young bachelor, and called to _Dom. Consul_ and the young lord to go with me, seeing that I could easily guess what he had on his mind. He sat upon a stone, and the blood gushed from his side like a fountain (now that they had drawn out the sword); he whimpered on seeing me, and said that he had in truth hearkened behind the door to all that old Lizzie had confessed to me, namely, that she herself, together with the sheriff, had worked all the witchcraft on man and beast, to frighten my poor child, and force her to play the wanton. That he had hidden this, seeing that the sheriff had promised him a great reward for so doing; but that he would now confess it freely, since God had brought my child her innocence to light. Wherefore he besought my child and myself to forgive him. And when _Dom. Consul_ shook his head, and asked whether he would live and die on the truth of this confession, he answered, "Yes!" and straightway fell on his side to the earth and gave up the ghost. Meanwhile time hung heavy with the people on the mountain, who had come from Coserow, from Zitze, from Gnitze, &c., to see my child burnt, and they all came running down the hill in long rows like geese, one after the other, to see what had happened. And among them was my ploughman, Claus Neels. When the worthy fellow saw and heard what had befallen us, he began to weep aloud for joy; and straightway he too told what he had heard the sheriff say to old Lizzie in the garden, and how he had promised her a pig in the room of her own little pig, which she had herself bewitched to death in order to bring my child into evil repute. _Summa_: All that I have noted above, and which till _datum_ he had kept to himself for fear of the question. Hereat all the people marvelled, and greatly bewailed her misfortunes: and many came, among them old Paasch, and would have kissed my daughter her hands and feet, as also mine own, and praised us now as much as they had before reviled us. But thus it ever is with the people. Wherefore my departed father used to say, "The people's hate is death, Their love, a passing breath!" My dear gossip ceased not from fondling my child, holding her in his lap, and weeping over her like a father (for I could not have wept more myself than he wept). Howbeit she herself wept not, but begged the young lord to send one of his horsemen to her faithful old maid-servant at Pudgla, to tell her what had befallen us, which he straightway did to please her. But the worshipful court (for _Dom. Camerarius_ and the _scriba_ had now plucked up a heart, and had come down from the coach) was not yet satisfied, and _Dom. Consul_ began to tell the young lord about the bewitched bridge, which none other save my daughter could have bewitched. Hereto the young lord gave answer that this was indeed a strange thing, inasmuch as his own horse had also broken a leg thereon, whereupon he had taken the sheriff his horse, which he saw tied up at the mill; but he did not think that this could be laid to the charge of the maiden, but that it came about by natural means, as he had half discovered already, although he had not had time to search the matter thoroughly. Wherefore he besought the worshipful court and all the people, together with my child herself, to return back thither, where, with God's help, he would clear her from this suspicion also, and prove her perfect innocence before them all. Thereunto the worshipful court agreed; and the young lord, having given the sheriff his grey charger to my ploughman to carry the corpse, which had been laid across the horse's neck, to Coserow, the young lord got into the cart by us, but did not seat himself beside my child, but backward by my dear gossip: moreover, he bade one of his own people drive us instead of the old coachman, and thus we turned back in God His name. _Custos Benzensis_, who, with the children, had run in among the vetches by the wayside (my defunct _Custos_ would not have done so, he had more courage), went on before again with the young folks, and by command of his reverence the pastor led the Ambrosian _Te Deum_, which deeply moved us all, more especially my child, insomuch that her book was wetted with her tears, and she at length laid it down and said, at the same time giving her hand to the young lord, "How can I thank God and you for that which you have done for me this day?" Whereupon the young lord answered, saying, "I have greater cause to thank God than yourself, sweet maid, seeing that you have suffered in your dungeon unjustly, but I justly, inasmuch as by my thoughtlessness I brought this misery upon you. Believe me that this morning when, in my donjon keep, I first heard the sound of the dead-bell, I thought to have died; and when it tolled for the third time, I should have gone distraught in my grief, had not the Almighty God at that moment taken the life of my strange father, so that your innocent life should be saved by me. Wherefore I have vowed a new tower, and whatsoe'er beside may be needful, to the blessed house of God; for naught more bitter could have befallen me on earth than your death, sweet maid, and naught more sweet than your life!" But at these words my child only wept and sighed; and when he looked on her, she cast down her eyes and trembled, so that I straightway perceived that my sorrows were not yet come to an end, but that another barrel of tears was just tapped for me, and so indeed it was. Moreover, the ass of a _Custos_, having finished the _Te Deum_ before we were come to the bridge, straightway struck up the next following hymn, which was a funeral one, beginning, "The body let us now inter." (God be praised that no harm has come of it till _datum_.) My beloved gossip rated him not a little, and threatened him that for his stupidity he should not get the money for the shoes which he had promised him out of the church dues. But my child comforted him, and promised him a pair of shoes at her own charges, seeing that peradventure a funeral hymn was better for her than a song of gladness. And when this vexed the young lord, and he said, "How now, sweet maid, you know not how enough to thank God and me for your rescue, and yet you speak thus?" she answered, smiling sadly, that she had only spoken thus to comfort the poor _Custos_. But I straightway saw that she was in earnest, for that she felt that although she had escaped one fire, she already burned in another. Meanwhile we were come to the bridge again, and all the folks stood still, and gazed open-mouthed, when the young lord jumped down from the cart, and after stabbing his horse, which still lay kicking on the bridge, went on his knees, and felt here and there with his hand. At length he called to the worshipful court to draw near, for that he had found out the witchcraft. But none save _Dom. Consul_ and a few fellows out of the crowd, among whom was old Paasch, would follow him; _item_, my dear gossip and myself. And the young lord showed us a lump of tallow about the size of a large walnut which lay on the ground, and wherewith the whole bridge had been smeared, so that it looked quite white, but which all the folks in their fright had taken for flour out of the mill; _item_, with some other _materia_, which stunk like fitchock's dung, but what it was we could not find out. Soon after a fellow found another bit of tallow, and showed it to the people; whereupon I cried, "Aha! none hath done this but that ungodly miller's man, in revenge for the stripes which the sheriff gave him for reviling my child." Whereupon I told what he had done, and _Dom. Consul_, who also had heard thereof, straightway sent for the miller. He, however, did as though he knew naught of the matter, and only said that his man had left his service about an hour ago. But a young lass, the miller's maid-servant, said that that very morning, before daybreak, when she had got up to let out the cattle, she had seen the man scouring the bridge. But that she had given it no further heed, and had gone to sleep for another hour: and she pretended to know no more than the miller whither the rascal was gone. When the young lord had heard this news, he got up into the cart, and began to address the people, seeking to persuade them no longer to believe in witchcraft, now that they had seen what it really was. When I heard this, I was horror-stricken (as was but right) in my conscience, as a priest, and I got upon the cart-wheel, and whispered into his ear, for God His sake, to leave this _materia_, seeing that if the people no longer feared the devil, neither would they fear our Lord God. [Footnote: Maybe a profound truth.] The dear young lord forthwith did as I would have him, and only asked the people whether they now held my child to be perfectly innocent? And when they had answered, Yes! he begged them to go quietly home, and to thank God that he had saved innocent blood. That he, too, would now return home, and that he hoped that none would molest me and my child if he let us return to Coserow alone. Hereupon he turned hastily towards her, took her hand, and said, "Farewell, sweet maid; I trust that I shall soon clear your honour before the world, but do you thank God therefore, not me." He then did the like to me and to my dear gossip, whereupon he jumped down from the cart, and went and sat beside _Dom. Consul_ in his coach. The latter also spake a few words to the people, and likewise begged my child and me to forgive him (and I must say it to his honour, that the tears ran down his cheeks the while), but he was so hurried by the young lord that he brake short his discourse, and they drove off over the little bridge, without so much as looking back. Only _Dom. Consul_ looked round once, and called out to me, that in his hurry he had forgotten to tell the executioner that no one was to be burned to-day: I was therefore to send the churchwarden of Uekeritze up the mountain, to say so in his name; the which I did. And the bloodhound was still on the mountain, albeit he had long since heard what had befallen; and when the bailiff gave him the orders of the worshipful court, he began to curse so fearfully that it might have awakened the dead; moreover, he plucked off his cap and trampled it under foot, so that any one might have guessed what he felt. But to return to ourselves: my child sat as still and as white as a pillar of salt, after the young lord had left her so suddenly and so unawares, but she was somewhat comforted when the old maid-servant came running with her coats tucked up to her knees, and carrying her shoes and stockings in her hand. We heard her afar off, as the mill had stopped, blubbering for joy, and she fell at least three times on the bridge, but at last she got over safe, and kissed now mine and now my child her hands and feet; begging us only not to turn her away, but to keep her until her life's end; the which we promised to do. She had to climb up behind where the impudent constable had sat, seeing that my dear gossip would not leave me until I should be back in mine own manse. And as the young lord his servant had got up behind the coach, old Paasch drove us home, and all the folks who had waited till _datum_ ran beside the cart, praising and pitying as much as they had before scorned and reviled us. Scarce, however, had we passed through Uekeritze, when we again heard cries of "Here comes the young lord, here comes the young lord!" so that my child started up for joy, and became as red as a rose, but some of the folks ran into the buckwheat by the road, again thinking it was another ghost. It was, however, in truth the young lord, who galloped up on a black horse, calling out as he drew near us, "Notwithstanding the haste I am in, sweet maid, I must return and give you safe conduct home, seeing that I have just heard that the filthy people reviled you by the way, and I know not whether you are yet safe." Hereupon he urged old Paasch to mend his pace, and as his kicking and trampling did not even make the horses trot, the young lord struck the saddle horse from time to time with the flat of his sword, so that we soon reached the village and the manse. Howbeit, when I prayed him to dismount awhile, he would not, but excused himself, saying that he must still ride through Uzedom to Anclam, but charged old Paasch, who was our bailiff, to watch over my child as the apple of his eye, and should anything unusual happen, he was straightway to inform the town clerk at Pudgla or _Dom. Consul_ at Uzedom thereof, and when Paasch had promised to do this, he waved his hand to us, and galloped off as fast as he could. But before he got round the corner by Pagel his house, he turned back for the third time: and when we wondered thereat he said we must forgive him, seeing his thoughts wandered to-day. That I had formerly told him that I still had my patent of nobility, the which he begged me to lend him for a time. Hereupon I answered that I must first seek for it, and that he had best dismount the while. But he would not, and again excused himself, saying he had no time. He therefore stayed without the door, until I brought him the patent, whereupon he thanked me and said, "Do not wonder hereat, you will soon see what my purpose is." Whereupon he struck his spurs into his horse's sides, and did not come back again. CHAPTER XXIX. _Of our next great sorrow, and final joy._ And now might we have been at rest, and have thanked God on our knees by day and night. For, besides mercifully saving us out of such great tribulation, He turned the hearts of my beloved flock, so that they knew not how to do enough for us. Every day they brought us fish, meat, eggs, sausages, and whatsoe'er besides they could give me, and which I have since forgotten. Moreover, they, every one of them, came to church the next Sunday, great and small (except goodwife Kliene of Zempin, who had just got a boy, and still kept her bed), and I preached a thanksgiving sermon on Job v., 17th, 18th, and 19th verses, "Behold, happy is the man whom God correcteth: therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty: for He maketh sore, and bindeth up; and His hands make whole. He shall deliver thee in six troubles, yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee." And during my sermon I was ofttimes forced to stop by reason of all the weeping, and to let them blow their noses. And I might truly have compared myself to Job, after that the Lord had mercifully released him from his troubles, had it not been for my child, who prepared much fresh grief for me. She had wept when the young lord would not dismount, and now that he came not again, she grew more uneasy from day to day. She sat and read first the Bible, then the hymnbook, _item_, the history of Dido in _Virgilius_, or she climbed up the mountain to fetch flowers (likewise sought after the vein of amber there, but found it not, which shows the cunning and malice of Satan). I saw this for awhile with many sighs, but spake not a word (for, dear reader, what could I say?) until it grew worse and worse; and as she now recited her _carmina_ more than ever both at home and abroad, I feared lest the people should again repute her a witch, and one day I followed her up the mountain. Well-a-day, she sat on the pile which still stood there, but with her face turned towards the sea, reciting the _versus_ where Dido mounts the funeral pile in order to stab herself for love of Aeneas-- "At trepida et coeptis immanibus effera Dido Sanguineam volvens aciem, maculisque trementes Interfusa genas, et pallida morte futura Interiora domus irrumpit limina et altos Conscendit furibunda rogos..." [Footnote: "But furious Dido, with dark thoughts involv'd, Shook at the mighty mischief she resolv'd. With livid spots distinguish'd was her face, Red were her rolling eyes, and discompos'd her pace; Ghastly she gazed, with pain she drew her breath, And nature shiver'd at approaching death. Then swiftly to the fatal place she pass'd, And mounts the funeral pile with furious haste." --DRYDEN'S _Virgil._] When I saw this, and heard how things really stood with her, I was affrighted beyond measure, and cried, "Mary, my child, what art thou doing?" She started when she heard my voice, but sat still on the pile, and answered, as she covered her face with her apron, "Father, I am burning my heart." I drew near to her and pulled the apron from her face, saying, "Wilt thou then again kill me with grief?" Whereupon she covered her face with her hands, and moaned, "Alas, father, wherefore was I not burned here? My torment would then have endured but for a moment, but now it will last as long as I live?" I still did as though I had seen naught, and said, "Wherefore, dear child, dost thou suffer such torment?" Whereupon she answered, "I have long been ashamed to tell you; for the young lord, the young lord, my father, do I suffer this torment! He no longer thinks of me; and albeit he saved my life he scorns me, or he would surely have dismounted and come in awhile; but we are of far too low degree for him!" Hereupon I indeed began to comfort her and to persuade her to think no more of the young lord, but the more I comforted her the worse she grew. Nevertheless I saw that she did yet in secret cherish a strong hope by reason of the patent of nobility which he had made me give him. I would not take this hope from her, seeing that I felt the same myself, and to comfort her I flattered her hopes, whereupon she was more quiet for some days, and did not go up the mountain, the which I had forbidden her. Moreover, she began again to teach little Paasch, her god-daughter, out of whom, by the help of the all-righteous God, Satan was now altogether departed. But she still pined, and was as white as a sheet; and when soon after a report came that none in the castle at Mellenthin knew what was become of the young lord, and that they thought he had been killed, her grief became so great that I had to send my ploughman on horseback to Mellenthin to gain tidings of him. And she looked at least twenty times out of the door and over the paling to watch for his return; and when she saw him coming she ran out to meet him as far as the corner by Pagels. But, blessed God! he brought us even worse news than we had heard before, saying, that the people at the castle had told him that their young master had ridden away the self-same day whereon he had rescued the maiden. That he had, indeed, returned after three days to his father's funeral, but had straightway ridden off again, and that for five weeks they had heard nothing further of him, and knew not whither he was gone, but supposed that some wicked ruffians had killed him. And now my grief was greater than ever it had been before; so patient and resigned to the will of God as my child had shown herself heretofore, and no martyr could have met her last hour stronger in God and Christ, so impatient and despairing was she now. She gave up all hope, and took it into her head that in these heavy times of war the young lord had been killed by robbers. Naught availed with her, not even prayer, for when I called upon God with her, on my knees, she straightway began so grievously to bewail that the Lord had cast her off, and that she was condemned to naught save misfortunes in this world; that it pierced through my heart like a knife, and my thoughts forsook me at her words. She lay also at night, and "like a crane or a swallow so did she chatter; she did mourn like a dove; her eyes did fail with looking upward," [Footnote: Isa. xxxviii. 14.] because no sleep came upon her eyelids. I called to her from my bed, "Dear child, wilt thou then never cease? sleep, I pray thee!" and she answered and said, "Do you sleep, dearest father; I cannot sleep until I sleep the sleep of death. Alas, my father; that I was not burned!" But how could I sleep when she could not? I, indeed, said each morning that I had slept awhile in order to content her; but it was not so; but, like David, "all the night made I my bed to swim; I watered my couch with my tears." [Footnote: Ps. vi. 6.] Moreover, I again fell into heavy unbelief, so that I neither could nor would pray. Nevertheless the Lord "did not deal with me after my sins, nor reward me according to mine iniquities. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great was His mercy toward" me, miserable sinner! [Footnote: Ps ciii. 10,11.] For mark what happened on the very next Saturday! Behold, our old maid-servant came running in at the door quite out of breath, saying that a horseman was coming over the Master's Mount, with a tall plume waving on his hat; and that she believed it was the young lord. When my child, who sat upon the bench combing her hair, heard this, she gave a shriek of joy, which would have moved a stone under the earth, and straightway ran out of the room to look over the paling. She presently came running in again, fell upon my neck, and cried without ceasing, "The young lord! the young lord!" whereupon she would have run out to meet him, but I forbade her, saying she had better first bind up her hair, which she then remembered, and laughing, weeping, and praying, all at once, she bound up her long hair. And now the young lord came galloping round the corner, attired in a green velvet doublet with red silk sleeves, and a grey hat with a heron's feather therein; _summa_, gaily dressed as beseems a wooer. And when we now ran out at the door, he called aloud to my child in the Latin, from afar off, "_Quomodo stat dulcissima virgo?_" Whereupon she gave answer, saying, "_Bene, te aspecto._" He then sprang smiling off his horse and gave it into the charge of my ploughman, who meanwhile had come up together with the maid; but he was affrighted when he saw my child so pale, and taking her hand spake in the vulgar tongue, "My God! what is it ails you, sweet maid? you look more pale than when about to go to the stake." Whereupon she answered, "I have been at the stake daily since you left us, good my lord, without coming into our house, or so much as sending us tidings of whither you were gone." This pleased him well, and he said, "Let us first of all go into the chamber, and you shall hear all." And when he had wiped the sweat from his brow, and sat down on the bench beside my child, he spake as follows:--That he had straightway promised her that he would clear her honour before the whole world, and the self-same day whereon he left us he made the worshipful court draw up an authentic record of all that had taken place, more especially the confession of the impudent constable, _item_, that of my ploughboy Claus Neels; wherewith he rode throughout the same night, as he had promised, to Anclam, and next day to Stettin, to our gracious sovereign Duke Bogislaw: who marvelled greatly when he heard of the wickedness of his sheriff, and of that which he had done to my child: moreover, he asked whether she were the pastor's daughter who once upon a time had found the signet-ring of his princely Highness Philippus Julius of most Christian memory in the castle garden at Wolgast? and as he did not know thereof, the Duke asked, whether she knew Latin? And he, the young lord, answered yes, that she knew the Latin better than he did himself. His princely Highness said, "Then indeed, it must be the same," and straightway he put on his spectacles, and read the _Acta_ himself. Hereupon, and after his princely Highness had read the record of the worshipful court, shaking his head the while, the young lord humbly besought his princely Highness to give him an _amende honorable_ for my child, _item, literas commendatitias_ for himself to our most gracious Emperor at Vienna, to beg for a renewal of my patent of nobility, seeing that he was determined to marry none other maiden than my daughter so long as he lived. When my child heard this, she gave a cry of joy, and fell back in a swound with her head against the wall. But the young lord caught her in his arms, and gave her three kisses (which I could not then deny him, seeing, as I did with joy, how matters went), and when she came to herself again, he asked her whether she would not have him, seeing that she had given such a cry at his words? Whereupon she said, "Whether I will not have you, my lord! Alas! I love you as dearly as my God and my Saviour! You first saved my life, and now you have snatched my heart from the stake whereon, without you, it would have burned all the days of my life!" Hereupon I wept for joy, when he drew her into his lap, and she clasped his neck with her little hands. They thus sat and toyed awhile, till the young lord again perceived me, and said, "What say you thereto? I trust it is also your will, reverend Abraham." Now, dear reader, what could I say, save my hearty good-will? seeing that I wept for very joy, as did my child, and I answered, how should it not be my will, seeing that it was the will of God? But whether the worthy, good young lord had likewise considered that he would stain his noble name if he took to wife my child, who had been habit and repute a witch, and had been well-nigh bound to the stake? Hereupon he said, By no means; for that he had long since prevented this, and he proceeded to tell us how he had done it, namely, his princely Highness had promised him to make ready all the _scripta_ which he required, within four days, when he hoped to be back from his father's burial. He therefore rode straightway back to Mellenthin, and after paying the last honour to my lord his father, he presently set forth on his way again, and found that his princely Highness had kept his word meanwhile. With these _scripta_ he rode to Vienna, and albeit he met with many pains, troubles, and dangers by the way (which he would relate to us at some other time), he nevertheless reached the city safely. There he by chance met with a Jesuit with whom he had once upon a time had his _locamentum_ for a few days at Prague, while he was yet a _studiosus_, and this man having heard his business, bade him be of good cheer, seeing that his Imperial Majesty stood sorely in need of money in these hard times of war, and that he, the Jesuit, would manage it all for him. This he really did, and his Imperial Majesty not only renewed my patent of nobility, but likewise confirmed the _amende honorable_ to my child granted by his princely Highness the Duke, so that he might now maintain the honour of his betrothed bride against all the world, as also hereafter that of his wife. Hereupon he drew forth the _Acta_ from his bosom and put them into my hand, saying, "And now, reverend Abraham, you must also do me a pleasure; to wit, to-morrow morning, when I hope to go with my betrothed bride to the Lord's table, you must publish the banns between me and your daughter, and on the day after you must marry us. Do not say nay thereto, for my pastor the reverend Philippus says that this is no uncommon custom among the nobles in Pomerania, and I have already given notice of the wedding for Monday at mine own castle, whither we will then go, and where I purpose to bed my bride." I should have found much to say against this request, more especially that in honour of the holy Trinity he should suffer himself to be called three times in church according to custom, and that he should delay awhile the espousals; but when I perceived that my child would gladly have the marriage held right soon, for she sighed and grew red as scarlet, I had not the heart to refuse them, but promised all they asked. Whereupon I exhorted them both to prayer, and when I had laid my hands upon their heads, I thanked the Lord more deeply than I had ever yet thanked Him, so that at last I could no longer speak for tears, seeing that they drowned my voice. Meanwhile the young lord his coach had driven up to the door, filled with chests and coffers: and he said, "Now, sweet maid, you shall see what I have brought you," and he bade them bring all the things into the room. Dear reader, what fine things were there, such as I had never seen in all my life! all that women can use was there, especially of clothes, to wit, bodices, plaited gowns, long robes, some of them bordered with fur, veils, aprons, _item_, the bridal shift with gold fringes, whereon the merry lord had laid some six or seven bunches of myrtle to make herself a wreath withal. _Item_, there was no end to the rings, neck-chains, ear-drops, &c., the which I have in part forgotten. Neither did the young lord leave me without a gift, seeing he had brought me a new surplice (the enemy had robbed me of my old one), also doublets, hosen, and shoes, _summa_, whatsoever appertains to a man's attire; wherefore I secretly besought the Lord not to punish us again in His sore displeasure for such pomps and vanities. When my child beheld all these things she was grieved that she could bestow upon him naught save her heart alone, and the chain of the Swedish king, the which she hung round his neck, and begged him, weeping the while, to take it as a bridal gift. This he at length promised to do, and likewise to carry it with him into the grave: but that my child must first wear it at her wedding, as well as the blue silken gown, for that this and no other should be her bridal dress, and this he made her promise to do. And now a merry chance befell with the old maid, the which I will here note. For when the faithful old soul had heard what had taken place, she was beside herself for joy, danced and clapped her hands, and at last said to my child, "Now to be sure you will not weep when the young lord is to lie in your bed," whereat my child blushed scarlet for shame, and ran out of the room; and when the young lord would know what she meant therewith she told him that he had already once slept in my child her bed when he came from Gützkow with me, whereupon he bantered her all the evening after that she was come back again. Moreover, he promised the maid that as she had once made my child her bed for him, she should make it again, and that on the day after to-morrow, she and the ploughman too should go with us to Mellenthin, so that masters and servants should all rejoice together after such great distress. And seeing that the dear young lord would stop the night under my roof, I made him lie in the small closet together with me (for I could not know what might happen). He soon slept like a top, but no sleep came into my eyes for very joy, and I prayed the livelong blessed night, or thought over my sermon. Only near morning I dosed a little; and when I rose the young lord already sat in the next room with my child, who wore the black silken gown which he had brought her, and, strange to say, she looked fresher than even when the Swedish king came, so that I never in all my life saw her look fresher or fairer. _Item_, the young lord wore his black doublet, and picked out for her the best bits of myrtle for the wreath she was twisting. But when she saw me, she straightway laid the wreath beside her on the bench, folded her little hands, and said the morning prayer, as she was ever wont to do, which humility pleased the young lord right well, and he begged her that in future she would ever do the like with him, the which she promised. Soon after we went to the blessed church to confession, and all the folk stood gaping open-mouthed because the young lord led my child on his arm. But they wondered far more when, after the sermon, I first read to them in the vulgar tongue the _amende honorable_ to my child from his princely Highness, together with the confirmation of the same by his Imperial Majesty, and after that my patent of nobility; and, lastly, began to publish the banns between my child and the young lord. Dear reader, there arose a murmur throughout the church like the buzzing of a swarm of bees. (_N.B_.-These _scripta_ were burnt in the fire which broke out in the castle a year ago, as I shall hereafter relate, wherefore I cannot insert them here _in origine_.) Hereupon my dear children went together with much people to the Lord's table, and after church nearly all the folks crowded round them and wished them joy. _Item_, old Paasch came to our house again that afternoon, and once more besought my daughter's forgiveness because that he had unwittingly offended her; that he would gladly give her a marriage-gift, but that he now had nothing at all; howbeit that his wife should set one of her hens in the spring, and he would take the chickens to her at Mellenthin himself. This made us all to laugh, more especially the young lord, who at last said, "As thou wilt bring me a marriage-gift, thou must also be asked to the wedding, wherefore thou mayest come to-morrow with the rest." Whereupon my child said, "And your little Mary, my god-child, shall come too, and be my bridemaiden, if my lord allows it." Whereupon she began to tell the young lord all that had befallen the child by the malice of Satan, and how they laid it to her charge until such time as the all-righteous God brought her innocence to light; and she begged that since her dear lord had commanded her to wear the same garments at her wedding which she had worn to salute the Swedish king, and afterwards to go to the stake, he would likewise suffer her to take for her bridemaiden her little god-child, as _indicium secundum_ of her sorrows. And when he had promised her this, she told old Paasch to send hither his child to her, that she might fit a new gown upon her which she had cut out for her a week ago, and which the maid would finish sewing this very day. This so went to the heart of the good old fellow that he began to weep aloud, and at last said, she should not do all this for nothing, for instead of the one hen his wife should set three for her in the spring. When he was gone, and the young lord did naught save talk with his betrothed bride both in the vulgar and in the Latin tongue, I did better--namely, went up the mountain to pray, wherein, moreover, I followed my child's example, and clomb up upon the pile, there in loneliness to offer up my whole heart to the Lord as an offering of thanksgiving, seeing that with this sacrifice He is well pleased, as in Ps. li. 19, "The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, shall Thou not despise." That night the young lord again lay in my room, but next morning, when the sun had scarce risen---------- * * * * * Here end these interesting communications, which I do not intend to dilute with any additions of my own. My readers, more especially those of the fair sex, can picture to themselves at pleasure the future happiness of this excellent pair. All further historical traces of their existence, as well as that of the pastor, have disappeared, and nothing remains but a tablet fixed in the wall of the church at Mellenthin, on which the incomparable lord, and his yet more incomparable wife, are represented. On his faithful breast still hangs "the golden chain, with the effigy of the Swedish king." They both seem to have died within a short time of each other, and to have been buried in the same coffin. For in the vault under the church there is still a large double coffin, in which, according to tradition, lies a chain of gold of incalculable value. Some twenty years ago, the owner of Mellenthin, whose unequalled extravagance had reduced him to the verge of beggary, attempted to open the coffin in order to take out this precious relic, but he was not able. It appeared as if some powerful spell held it firmly together; and it has remained unopened down to the present time. May it remain so until the last awful day, and may the impious hand of avarice or curiosity never desecrate these holy ashes of holy beings! THE END. 
42318	----	THE SALEM WITCHCRAFT, The Planchette Mystery, AND MODERN SPIRITUALISM, WITH DR. DODDRIDGE'S DREAM. HISTORY OF SALEM WITCHCRAFT: A REVIEW OF CHARLES W. UPHAM'S GREAT WORK. FROM THE "EDINBURGH REVIEW." With Notes, BY THE EDITOR OF "THE PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL." NEW YORK: FOWLER & WELLS CO., PUBLISHERS, 753 BROADWAY. 1886. BIGOTRY. Obstinate or blind attachment to a particular creed; unreasonable zeal or warmth in favor of a party, sect, or opinion; excessive prejudice. The practice or tenet of a bigot. PREJUDICE. An opinion or decision of mind, formed without due examination of the facts or arguments which are necessary to a just and impartial determination. A previous bent or inclination of mind for or against any person or thing. Injury or wrong of any kind; as to act to the _prejudice_ of another. SUPERSTITION. Excessive exactness or rigor in religious opinions or practice; excess or extravagance in religion; the doing of things not required by God, or abstaining from things not forbidden; or the belief of what is absurd, or belief without evidence. False religion; false worship. Rite or practice proceeding from excess of scruples in religion. Excessive nicety; scrupulous exactness. Belief in the direct agency of superior powers in certain extraordinary or singular events, or in omens and prognostics.--_Webster._ INTRODUCTION. The object in reprinting this most interesting review is simply to show the progress made in moral, intellectual, and physical science. The reader will go back with us to a time--not very remote--when nothing was known of Phrenology and Psychology; when men and women were persecuted, and even put to death, through the baldest ignorance and the most pitiable superstition. If we were to go back still farther, to the Holy Wars, we should find cities and nations drenched in human blood through religious bigotry and intolerance. Let us thank God that our lot is cast in a more fortunate age, when the light of revelation, rightly interpreted by the aid of SCIENCE, points to the Source of all knowledge, all truth, all light. When we know more of Anatomy, Physiology, Physiognomy, and the Natural Sciences generally, there will be a spirit of broader liberality, religious tolerance, and individual freedom. Then all men will hold themselves accountable to God, rather than to popes, priests, or parsons. Our progenitors lived in a time that tried men's souls, as the following lucid review most painfully shows. S. R. W. CONTENTS. PAGE The Place 7 The Salemite of Forty Years Ago 8 How the Subject was opened 9 Careful Historiography 10 The Actors in the Tragedy 12 Philosophy of the Delusion 12 Character of the Early Settlement 13 First Causes 15 Death of the Patriarch 16 Growth of Witchcraft 17 Trouble in the Church 18 Rev. Mr. Burroughs 19 Deodat Lawson 20 Parris--a Malignant 20 A Protean Devil 21 State of Physiology 22 William Penn as a Precedent 22 Phenomena of Witchcraft 23 Parris and his Circle 25 The Inquisitions--Sarah Good 26 A Child Witch 27 The Towne Sisters 28 Depositions of Parris and his Tools 31 Goody Nurse's Excommunication 35 Mary Easty 36 Mrs. Cloyse 38 The Proctor Family 40 The Jacobs Family 41 Giles and Martha Corey 42 Decline of the Delusion 44 The Physio-Psychological Causes of the Trouble 45 The Last of Parris 47 "One of the Afflicted"--Her Confession 49 The Transition 50 The Fetish Theory Then and Now 51 The Views of Modern Investigators 53 Importance of the Subject 55 CONTENTS OF THE PLANCHETTE MYSTERY. PAGE. What Planchette is and does (with review of Facts and Phenomena) 63 The Press on Planchette (with further details of Phenomena) 67 Theory First--That the Board is moved by the hands that rest 70 upon it Theory Second--"It is Electricity or Magnetism" 71 Proof that Electricity has nothing to do with it 78 Theory Third--The Devil Theory 79 Theory of a Floating Ambient Mentality 81 "_To Daimonion_"--The Demon 83 "It is some principle of nature as yet unknown" 85 Theory of the Agency of Departed Spirits 85 PLANCHETTE'S OWN THEORY 89 The Rational Difficulty 92 The Medium--The Doctrine of Spheres 93 The Moral and Religious Difficulty 98 What this Modern Development is, and what is to come of it 102 Conclusion 105 How to work Planchette 106 SPIRITUALISM. History of Spiritualism 107 Scriptural Views 110 Communion of Saints 112 DR. DODDRIDGE'S DREAM. Pages 123-125. SALEM WITCHCRAFT. THE PLACE. The name of the village of Salem is as familiar to Americans as that of any provincial town in England or France is to Englishmen and Frenchmen; yet, when uttered in the hearing of Europeans, it carries us back two or three centuries, and suggests an image, however faint and transient, of the life of the Pilgrim Fathers, who gave that sacred name to the place of their chosen habitation. If we were on the spot to-day, we should see a modern American seaport, with an interest of its own, but by no means a romantic one. At present Salem is suffering its share of the adversity which has fallen upon the shipping trade, while it is still mourning the loss of some of its noblest citizens in the late civil war. No community in the Republic paid its tribute of patriotic sacrifice more generously; and there were doubtless occasions when its citizens remembered the early days of glory, when their fathers helped to chase the retreating British, on the first shedding of blood in the war of Independence. But now they have enough to think of under the pressure of the hour. Their trade is paralyzed under the operation of the tariff; their shipping is rotting in port, except so much of it as is sold to foreigners; there is much poverty in low places and dread of further commercial adversity among the chief citizens, but there is the same vigorous pursuit of intellectual interests and pleasures, throughout the society of the place, that there always is wherever any number of New Englanders have made their homes beside the church, the library, and the school. Whatever other changes may occur from one age or period to another, the features of natural scenery are, for the most part, unalterable. Massachusetts Bay is as it was when the Pilgrims cast their first look over it: its blue waters--as blue as the seas of Greece--rippling up upon the sheeted snow of the sands in winter, or beating against rocks glittering in ice; in autumn the pearly waves flowing in under the thickets of gaudy foliage; and on summer evening the green surface surrounding the amethyst islands, where white foam spouts out of the caves and crevices. On land, there are still the craggy hills, and the jutting promontories of granite, where the barberry grows as the bramble does with us, and room is found for the farmstead between the crags, and for the apple-trees and little slopes of grass, and patches of tillage, where all else looks barren. The boats are out, or ranged on shore, according to the weather, just as they were from the beginning, only in larger numbers; and far away on either hand the coasts and islands, the rocks and hills and rural dwellings, are as of old, save for the shrinking of the forest, and the growth of the cities and villages, whose spires and school-houses are visible here and there. THE SALEMITE OF FORTY YEARS AGO. Yet there are changes, marked and memorable, both in Salem and its neighborhood, since the date of thirty-seven years ago. There was then an exclusiveness about the place as evident to strangers, and as dear to natives, as the rivalship between Philadelphia and Baltimore, while far more interesting and honorable in its character. In Salem society there was a singular combination of the precision and scrupulousness of Puritan manners and habits of thought with the pride of a cultivated and traveled community, boasting acquaintance with people of all known faiths, and familiarity with all known ways of living and thinking, while adhering to the customs, and even the prejudices, of their fathers. While relating theological conversations held with liberal Buddhists or lax Mohammedans, your host would whip his horse, to get home at full speed by sunset on a Saturday, that the groom's Sabbath might not be encroached on for five minutes. The houses were hung with odd Chinese copies of English engravings, and furnished with a variety of pretty and useful articles from China, never seen elsewhere, because none but American traders had then achieved any commerce with that country but in tea, nankeen, and silk. The Salem Museum was the glory of the town, and even of the State. Each speculative merchant who went forth, with or without a cargo (and the trade in ice was then only beginning), in his own ship, with his wife and her babes, was determined to bring home some offering to the Museum, if he should accomplish a membership of that institution by doubling either Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope. He picked up an old cargo somewhere and trafficked with it for another; and so he went on--if not rounding the world, seeing no small part of it, and making acquaintance with a dozen eccentric potentates and barbaric chiefs, and sovereigns with widely celebrated names; and, whether the adventurer came home rich or poor, he was sure to have gained much knowledge, and to have become very entertaining in discourse. The houses of the principal merchants were pleasant abodes--each standing alone beside the street, which was an avenue thick-strewn with leaves in autumn and well shaded in summer. Not far away were the woods, where lumbering went on, for the export of timber to Charleston and New Orleans, and for the furniture manufacture, which was the main industry of the less fertile districts of Massachusetts in those days. Here and there was a little lake--a "pond"--under the shadow of the woods, yielding water-lilies in summer, and ice for exportation in winter--as soon as that happy idea had occurred to some fortunate speculator. On some knoll there was sure to be a school-house. Amid these and many other pleasant objects, and in the very center of the stranger's observations, there was one spectacle that had no beauty in it--just as in the happy course of the life of the Salem community there is one fearful period. That dreary object is the Witches' Hill at Salem; and that fearful chapter of history is the tragedy of the Witch Delusion. HOW THE SUBJECT WAS OPENED. Our reason for selecting the date of thirty-seven years ago for our glance at the Salem of the last generation is, that at that time a clergyman resident there fixed the attention of the inhabitants on the history of their forefathers by delivering lectures on Witchcraft. This gentleman was then a young man, of cultivated mind and intellectual tastes, a popular preacher, and esteemed and beloved in private life. In delivering those lectures he had no more idea than his audience that he was entering upon the great work and grand intellectual interest of his life. When he concluded the course, he was unconscious of having offered more than the entertainment of a day; yet the engrossing occupation of seven-and-thirty years for himself, and no little employment and interest for others, have grown out of that early effort. He was requested to print the lectures, and did so. They went through more than one edition; and every time he reverted to the subject, with some fresh knowledge gathered from new sources, he perceived more distinctly how inadequate, and even mistaken, had been his early conceptions of the character of the transactions which constituted the Witch Tragedy. At length he refused to reissue the volume. "I was unwilling," he says in the preface of the book before us, "to issue again what I had discovered to be an insufficient presentation of the subject." Meantime, he was penetrating into mines of materials for history, furnished by the peculiar forms of administration instituted by the early rulers of the province. It was an ordinance of the General Court of Massachusetts, for instance, that testimony should in all cases be taken in the shape of depositions, to be preserved "in perpetual remembrance." In all trials, the evidence of witnesses was taken in writing beforehand, the witnesses being present (except in certain cases) to meet any examination in regard to their recorded testimony. These depositions were carefully preserved, in complete order: and thus we may now know as much about the landed property, the wills, the contracts, the assaults and defamation, the thievery and cheating, and even the personal morals and social demeanor of the citizens of Salem of two centuries and a half ago as we could have done if they had had law-reporters in their courts, and had filed those reports, and preserved the police departments of newspapers like those of the present day. The documents relating to the witchcraft proceedings have been for the most part laid up among the State archives; but a considerable number of them have been dispersed--no doubt from their connection with family history, and under impulses of shame and remorse. Of these, some are safely lodged in literary institutions, and others are in private hands, though too many have been lost. CAREFUL HISTORIOGRAPHY. In a long course of years, Mr. Upham, and after him his sons, have searched out all documents they could hear of. When they had reason to believe that any transcription of papers was inaccurate--that gaps had been conjecturally filled up, that dates had been mistaken, or that papers had been transposed, they never rested till they had got hold of the originals, thinking the bad spelling, the rude grammar, and strange dialect of the least cultivated country people less objectionable than the unauthorized amendments of transcribers. Mr. Upham says he has resorted to the originals throughout. Then there were the parish books and church records, to which was committed in early days very much in the life of individuals which would now be considered a matter of private concern, and scarcely fit for comment by next-door neighbors. The primitive local maps and the coast-survey chart, with the markings of original grants to settlers, and of bridges, mills, meeting-houses, private dwellings, forest roads, and farm boundaries, have been preserved. Between these and deeds of conveyance it has been possible to construct a map of the district, which not only restores the external scene to the mind's eye, but casts a strong and fearful light--as we shall see presently--on the origin and course of the troubles of 1692. Mr. Upham and his sons have minutely examined the territory--tracing the old stone walls and the streams, fixing the gates, measuring distances, even verifying points of view, till the surrounding scenery has become as complete as could be desired. Between the church books and the parish and court records, the character, repute, ways, and manners of every conspicuous resident can be ascertained; and it may be said that nothing out of the common way happened to any man, woman, or child within the district which could remain unknown at this day, if any one wished to make it out. Mr. Upham has wished to make out the real story of the Witch Tragedy; and he has done it in such a way that his readers will doubtless agree that no more accurate piece of history has ever been written than the annals of this New England township. For such a work, however, something more is required than the most minute delineation of the outward conditions of men and society; and in this higher department of his task Mr. Upham is above all anxious to obtain and dispense true light. The second part of his work treats of what may be called the spiritual scenery of the time. He exhibits the superstition of that age, when the belief in Satanic agency was the governing idea of religious life, and the most engrossing and pervading interest known to the Puritans of every country. Of the young and ignorant in the new settlement beyond the seas his researches have led him to write thus: THE ACTORS IN THE TRAGEDY. "However strange it seems, it is quite worthy of observation, that the actors in that tragedy, the 'afflicted children,' and other witnesses, in their various statements and operations, embraced about the whole circle of popular superstition. How those young country girls, some of them mere children, most of them wholly illiterate, could have become familiar with such fancies, to such an extent, is truly surprising. They acted out, and brought to bear with tremendous effect, almost all that can be found in the literature of that day, and the period preceding it, relating to such subjects. Images and visions which had been portrayed in tales of romance, and given interest to the pages of poetry, will be made by them, as we shall see, to throng the woods, flit through the air, and hover over the heads of a terrified court. The ghosts of murdered wives and children will play their parts with a vividness of representation and artistic skill of expression that have hardly been surpassed in scenic representations on the stage. In the Salem-witchcraft proceedings, the superstition of the middle ages was embodied in real action. All its extravagant absurdities and monstrosities appear in their application to human experience. We see what the effect has been, and must be, when the affairs of life, in courts of law and the relations of society, or the conduct or feelings of individuals, are suffered to be under the control of fanciful or mystical notions. When a whole people abandons the solid ground of common sense, overleaps the boundaries of human knowledge, gives itself up to wild reveries, and lets loose its passions without restraint, it presents a spectacle more terrific to behold, and becomes more destructive and disastrous, than any convulsion of mere material nature,--than tornado, conflagration, or earthquake." (Vol. i. p. 468.) PHILOSOPHY OF THE DELUSION. All this is no more than might have occurred to a thoughtful historian long years ago; but there is yet something else which it has been reserved for our generation to perceive, or at least to declare, without fear or hesitation. Mr. Upham may mean more than some people would in what he says of the new opening made by science into the dark depths of mystery covered by the term Witchcraft; for he is not only the brother-in-law but the intimate friend and associate of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Professor of Anatomy and Physiology at Harvard University, and still better known to us, as he is at home, as the writer of the physiological tales, "Elsie Venner" and the "Guardian Angel," which have impressed the public as something new in the literature of fiction. It can not be supposed that Mr. Upham's view of the Salem Delusion would have been precisely what we find it here if he and Dr. Holmes had never met; and, but for the presence of the Professor's mind throughout the book, which is most fitly dedicated to him, its readers might have perceived less clearly the true direction in which to look for a solution of the mystery of the story, and its writer might have written something less significant in the place of the following paragraph: "As showing how far the beliefs of the understanding, the perceptions of the senses, and the delusions of the imagination may be confounded, the subject belongs not only to theology and moral and political science, but to _physiology_, in its original and proper use, as embracing our whole nature; and the facts presented may help to conclusions relating to what is justly regarded as the great mystery of our being--the connection between the body and the mind." (Vol. i. p. viii.) CHARACTER OF THE EARLY SETTLEMENT. The settlement had its birth in 1620, the date of the charter granted by James I. to "the Governor and Company of Massachusetts Bay in New England." The first policy of the company was to attract families of good birth, position, education, and fortune, to take up considerable portions of land, introduce the best agriculture known, and facilitate the settling of the country. Hence the tone of manners, the social organization, and the prevalence of the military spirit, which the subsequent decline in the spirit of the community made it difficult for careless thinkers to understand. Not only did the wealth of this class of early settlers supply the district with roads and bridges, and clear the forest; it set up the pursuit of agriculture in the highest place, and encouraged intellectual pursuits, refined intercourse, and a loftier spirit of colonizing enterprise than can be looked for among immigrants whose energies are engrossed by the needs of the day. The mode of dress of the gentry of this class shows us something of their aspect in their new country, when prowling Indians were infesting the woods a stone's throw from their fences, and when the rulers of the community took it in turn with all their neighbors to act as scouts against the savages. George Corwin was thus dressed: "A wrought flowing neckcloth, a sash covered with lace, a coat with short cuffs and reaching halfway between the wrist and elbow; the skirts in plaits below; an octagon ring and cane. The last two articles are still preserved. His inventory mentions 'a silver-laced cloth coat, a velvet ditto, a satin waistcoat embroidered with gold, a trooping scarf and silver hat-band, golden-topped and embroidered, and a silver-headed cane.'" (Vol. i. p. 98.) This aristocratic element was in large proportion to the total number of settlers. It lifted up the next class to a position inferior only to its own by its connection with land. The farmers formed an order by themselves--not by having peculiar institutions, but through the dignity ascribed to agriculture. The yeomanry of Massachusetts hold their heads high to this day, and their fathers spoke proudly of themselves as "the farmers." They penetrated the forest in all directions, sat down beside the streams, and plowed up such level tracts as they found open to the sunshine; so that in a few years "the Salem Farms" constituted a well-defined territory, thinly peopled, but entirely appropriated. In due course parishes were formed round the outskirts of "Salem Farms," encroaching more or less in all directions, and reducing the area to that which was ultimately known as "Salem Village," in which some few of the original grants of five hundred acres or less remained complete, while others were divided among families or sold. Long before the date of the Salem Tragedy, the strifes which follow upon the acquisition of land had become common, and there was much ill-blood within the bounds of the City of Peace. The independence, the mode of life, and the pride of the yeomen made them excellent citizens, however, when war broke out with the Indians or with any other foe; and the military spirit of the aristocracy was well sustained by that of the farmers. The dignity of the town had been early secured by the wisdom of the Company at home, which had committed to the people the government of the district in which they were placed; and every citizen felt himself, in his degree, concerned in the rule and good order of the society in which he lived; but the holders of land recognized no real equality between themselves and men of other callings, while the artisans and laborers were ambitious to obtain a place in the higher class. Artisans of every calling needed in a new society had been sent out from England by the Company; and when all the most energetic had acquired as much land as could be had in recompense for special services to the community--as so many acres for plowing up a meadow, so many for discovering minerals, so many for foiling an Indian raid,--and when the original grants had been broken up, and finally parceled out among sons and daughters, leaving no scope for new purchasers, the most ambitious of the adventurers applied for tracts in Maine, where they might play their part of First Families in a new settlement. The weaker, the more envious, the more ill-conditioned thus remained behind, to cavil at their prosperous neighbors, and spite them if they could. Here was an evident preparation for social disturbance, when opportunity for gratifying bad passions should arise. FIRST CAUSES. There had been a preparation for this stage in the temper with which the adventurers had arrived in the country, and the influences which at once operated upon them there. The politics and the religion in which they had grown up were gloomy and severe. Those who were not soured were sad; and, it should be remembered, they fully believed that Satan and his powers were abroad, and must be contended with daily and hourly, and in every transaction of life. In their new home they found little cheer from the sun and the common daylight; for the forest shrouded the entire land beyond the barren seashore. The special enemy, the Red Indian, always watching them and seeking his advantage of them, was not, in their view, a simple savage. Their clergy assured them that the Red Indians were worshipers and agents of Satan; and it is difficult to estimate the effect of this belief on the minds and tempers of those who were thinking of the Indians at every turn of daily life. The passion which is in the far West still spoken of as special, under the name of "Indian-hating," is a mingled ferocity and fanaticism quite inconceivable by quiet Christians, or perhaps by any but border adventurers; and this passion, kindled by the first demonstration of hostility on the part of the Massachusetts Red Man, grew and spread incessantly under the painful early experiences of colonial life. Every man had in turn to be scout, by day and night, in the swamp and in the forest; and every woman had to be on the watch in her husband's absence to save her babes from murderers and kidnappers. Whatever else they might want to be doing, even to supply their commonest needs, the citizens had first to station themselves within hail of each other all day, and at night to drive in their cattle among the dwellings, and keep watch by turns. Even on Sundays patrols were appointed to look to the public safety while the community were at church. The mothers carried their babes to the meeting-house, rather than venture to stay at home in the absence of husband and neighbors. One function of the Sabbath patrol indicates to us other sources of trouble. While looking for Indians, the patrol was to observe who was absent from worship, to mark what the absentees were doing, and to give information to the authorities. These patrols were chosen from the leading men of the community--the most active, vigilant, and sensible--and it is conceivable that much ill-will might have been accumulated in the hearts of not only the ne'er-do-weels, but timid and jealous and angry persons who were uneasy under this Sabbath inspection. Such ill-will had its day of triumph when the Salem Tragedy arrived at its catastrophe. DEATH OF THE PATRIARCH. The ordinary experience of life was singularly accelerated in that new state of society, though in the one particular of the age attained by the primitive adventurers, the community may be regarded as favored. Death made a great sweep of the patriarchs at last--shortly before the Tragedy--but an unusual proportion of elders presided over social affairs for seventy years after the date of the second charter. The chief seats in the meeting-house were filled by gray-haired men and women, rich or poor as might happen; and they were allowed to retain their places, whoever else might be shifted in the yearly "seating." The title "Landlord" distinguished the most dignified, and the eldest of each family of the "Old Planters;" a "Goodman" and "Goodwife" (abbreviated to "Goody") were titles of honor, as signifying heads of households. The old age of these venerable persons was carefully cherished; and when, as could not but happen, many of them departed near together, the mourning of the community was deep and bitter. Society seemed to be deprived of its parents, and in fear and grief it anticipated the impending calamity. Except in regard to these patriarchs, and their long old age, the pace of events was very rapid. Early marriages might be looked for in a society so youthful; but the rapid succession of second and subsequent marriages is a striking feature in the register. The most devoted affection seems to have had no effect in deferring a second marriage so long as a year. No time was lost in settling in life at first; families were large; and half-brothers and sisters abounded; and as they grew up they married on the portions which were given them, as a matter of course,--each having house, land, and plenishing, until at last the parents gave away all but a sufficiency for their own need or convenience, and went into the town or remained in the central mansion, turning over the land and its cares to the younger generation. When there was a failure of offspring, the practice of adoption seems to have been resorted to almost as a natural process, which, in such a state of society, it probably was. GROWTH. In the early days of the arts of life it is usual for the separate transactions of each day to be slow and cumbrous; but the experience of life may be rapid nevertheless. While traveling was a rough jog-trot, and forest-land took years to clear, and the harvest weeks to gather, property grew fast, marriages were precipitate and repeated, one generation trod on the heels of another, and the old folks complained that The Enemy made rapid conquest of the new territory which they had hoped he could not enter. When any work--of house-building, or harvesting, or nutting, or furnishing, or raising the wood-pile--had to be done, it was secured by assembling all the hands in the neighborhood, and turning the toil into a festive pleasure. We have all read of such "bees" in the rural districts of America down to the present day; and we can easily understand how the "goodmen" and "goodies" watched for the good and the evil which came out of such celebrations--the courtship and marriage, and the neighborly interest and good offices on the one hand, and the evil passions from disappointed hopes, envy, jealousy, tittle-tattle, rash judgment, and slander on the other. Much that was said, done, and inferred in such meetings as these found its way long afterward into the Tragedy at Salem. Mr. Upham depicts the inner side of the young social life of which the inquisitorial meeting-house and the courts were the black shadow: "The people of the early colonial settlements had a private and interior life, as much as we have now, and the people of all ages and countries have had. It is common to regard them in no other light than as a severe, somber, and pleasure-abhorring generation. It was not so with them altogether. They had the same nature that we have. It was not all gloom and severity. They had their recreations, amusements, gayeties, and frolics. Youth was as buoyant with hope and gladness, love as warm and tender, mirth as natural to innocence, wit as sprightly, then as now. There was as much poetry and romance; the merry laugh enlivened the newly opened fields, and rang through the bordering woods as loud, jocund, and unrestrained as in these older and more crowded settlements. It is true that their theology was austere, and their policy, in Church and State, stern; but, in their modes of life, there were some features which gave peculiar opportunity to exercise and gratify a love of social excitement of a pleasurable kind." (Vol. i. p. 200.) Except such conflicts as arose about the boundaries of estates when the General Court was remiss in making and enforcing its decisions, the first and greatest strifes related to Church matters and theological doctrines. The farmers had more lively minds, better informed as to law, and more exercised in reasoning and judging than their class are usually supposed to have; for there never was a time when lawsuits were not going forward about the area and the rights of some landed property or other; and intelligent men were called on to follow the course of litigation, if not to serve the community in office. Thus they were prepared for the strife when the operation of the two Churches pressed for settlement. TROUBLE IN THE CHURCH. The farmers in the rural district thenceforward to be called "Salem Village," desired to have a meeting-house and a minister of their own; but the town authorities insisted on taxing them for the religious establishment in Salem, from which they derived no benefit. In 1670, twenty of them petitioned to be set off as a parish, and allowed to provide a minister for themselves. In two years more the petition was granted, as a compromise for larger privileges; but there were restrictions which spoiled the grace of such concession as there was. One of these restrictions was that no minister was to be permanently settled without the permission of the old Church to proceed to his ordination. Endless trouble arose out of this provision. The men who had contributed the land, labor, and material for the meeting-house, and the maintenance for the pastor, naturally desired to be free in their choice of their minister, while the Church authorities in Salem considered themselves responsible for the maintenance of true doctrine, and for leaving no opening for Satan to enter the fold in the form of heresy, or any kind or degree of dissent. Their fathers, the first settlers, had made the colony too hot for one of their most virtuous and distinguished citizens, because he had views of his own on Infant Baptism; they had brought him to judgment, magistrate and church member as he was, for not having presented his infant child at the font; he had sold his estates and gone away. If such a citizen as Townsend Bishop was thus lost to their society, how could the guardians of religion surrender their control over any church or pastor within their reach? They had spiritual charge of a community which had made its abode on the American shore for the single purpose of living its own religious life in its own way; and no dissent or modification from within could be permitted, any more than intrusion or molestation from without. Between the ecclesiastical view on the one hand, and the civil view on the other, there was small chance of harmony between town and village, or between pastor, flock, and the overseers of both. The great point on which they were all agreed was that they were all in special danger from the extreme malice of Satan, who, foiled in Puritan England, was bent on revenge in America, and was visibly and audibly present in the settlement, seeking whom he might devour. Quarreling began with the appearance of the first minister, a young Mr. Bayley, who was appointed from year to year, but never ordained the pastor till 1679, when the authorities of Salem tried to force him upon the people of Salem Village in the face of strong opposition. The farmers disregarded the orders issued from the town, and managed their religious affairs by general meetings of their own congregation; and at length Mr. Bayley retired, leaving the society in a much worse temper than he had found on his arrival. A handsome gift of land was settled upon him, in acknowledgment of his services; he quitted the ministry, and practiced medicine in Roxbury till his death, nearly thirty years afterward. REV. MR. BURROUGHS. His partisans were enemies of his successor, of course. Mr. Burroughs was a man of even distinguished excellence in the pastoral relation, in days when risks from Indians made that duty as perilous as the career of the soldier in war time; but his flock were divided, church business was neglected, he was allowed to fall into want. He withdrew, was recalled to settle accounts, was arrested for debt in full meeting--the debt being for the funeral expenses of his wife--was absolved from all blame under the cruel neglect he had experienced--and left the Village. Before he could hear in his remote home in Maine what was doing at Salem in the first days of the Witch Tragedy, he was summoned to his old neighborhood, was charged with sorcery on the most childish and absurd testimony conceivable, and executed in August, 1692. One of the witnesses--a young girl morbid in body and mind--poured out her remorse to him the day before his death. He, believing her a victim of Satan, forgave her, prayed with her, and died honored and beloved by all who were not under the curse of the bigotry of the time. DEODAT LAWSON. The third minister was one Deodat Lawson, who is notable--besides his learning--for his Sermon on the Devil, and for some mournful mystery about his end. Of his last days there is nothing known but that there was something woeful in them; but his sermon, preached at the commencement of the outbreak in Salem, remains to us. It was published in America, and then widely circulated in England. It met the popular craving for light about Satan and his doings; and thus, between its appropriateness to the time and occasion, and the learning and ability which it manifested, it produced an extraordinary effect in its day. In ours it is an instructive evidence of the extent to which "knowledge falsely so called" may operate on the mind of society, in the absence of science, and before the time has arrived for a clear understanding of the nature of knowledge and the conditions of its attainment. Mr. Lawson bore a part in the Salem Tragedy, and then went to England, where we hear of him from Calamy as "the unhappy Mr. Deodat Lawson," and he disappears. PARRIS--A MALIGNANT. The fourth and last of the ministers of Salem Village, before the Tragedy, was the Mr. Parris who played the most conspicuous part in it. He must have been a man of singular shamelessness, as well as remarkable selfishness, craft, ruthlessness, and withal imprudence. He began his operations with sharp bargaining about his stipend, and sharp practice in appropriating the house and land assigned for the use of successive pastors. He wrought diligently under the stimulus of his ambition till he got his meeting-house sanctioned as a true church, and himself ordained as the first pastor of Salem Village. This was in 1689. He immediately launched out into such an exercise of priestly power as could hardly be exceeded under any form of church government; he set his people by the ears on every possible occasion and on every possible pretense; he made his church a scandal in the land for its brawls and controversies; and on him rests the responsibility of the disease and madness which presently turned his parish into a hell, and made it famous for the murder of the wisest, gentlest, and purest Christians it contained. [This man Parris must have had an inferior intellect, small Conscientiousness, Benevolence, and Veneration; large Firmness, Self-Esteem, Combativeness, Destructiveness, and Acquisitiveness.] A PROTEAN DEVIL. Before we look at his next proceeding, however, we must bring into view one or two facts essential to the understanding of the case. We have already observed on the universality of the belief in the ever-present agency of Satan in that region and that special season. In the woods the Red Men were his agents--living in and for his service and his worship. In the open country, Satan himself was seen, as a black horse, a black dog, as a tall, dark stranger, as a raven, a wolf, a cat, etc. Strange incidents happened there as everywhere--odd bodily affections and mental movements; and when devilish influences are watched for, they are sure to be seen. Everybody was prepared for manifestations of witchcraft from the first landing in the Bay; and there had been more and more cases, not only rumored, but brought under investigation, for some years before the final outbreak. This suggests the next consideration: that the generation concerned had no "alternative" explanation within their reach, when perplexed by unusual appearances or actions of body or mind. They believed themselves perfectly certain about the Devil and his doings; and his agency was the only solution of their difficulties, while it was a very complete one. They thought they knew that his method of working was by human agents, whom he had won over and bound to his service. They had all been brought up to believe this; and they never thought of doubting it. STATE OF PHYSIOLOGY. The very conception of science had then scarcely begun to be formed in the minds of the wisest men of the time; and if it had been, who was there to suggest that the handful of pulp contained in the human skull, and the soft string of marrow in the spine, and cobweb lines of nerves, apparently of no more account than the hairs of the head, could transmit thoughts, emotions, passions--all the scenery of the spiritual world! For two hundred years more there was no effectual recognition of anything of the sort. At the end of those two centuries anatomists themselves were slicing the brain like a turnip, to see what was inside it,--not dreaming of the leading facts of its structure, nor of the inconceivable delicacy of its organization. After half a century of knowledge of the main truth in regard to the brain, and nearly that period of study of its organization, by every established medical authority in the civilized world, we are still perplexed and baffled at every turn of the inquiry into the relations of body and mind. How, then, can we make sufficient allowance for the effects of ignorance in a community where theology was the main interest in life, where science was yet unborn, and where all the influences of the period concurred to produce and aggravate superstitions and bigotries which now seem scarcely credible? [The reviewer appears to be a half believer in Phrenology, and yet unwilling to acknowledge his indebtedness to its teachers for the light he has received in the organization and phenomena of the brain.] WILLIAM PENN AS A PRECEDENT. There had been misery enough caused by persecutions for witchcraft within living memory to have warned Mr. Parris, one would think, how he carried down his people into those troubled waters again; but at that time such trials were regarded by society as trials for murder are by us, and not as anything surprising except from the degree of wickedness. William Penn presided at the trial of two Swedish women in Philadelphia for this gravest of crimes; and it was only by the accident of a legal informality that they escaped, the case being regarded with about the same feeling as we experienced a year or two ago when the murderess of infants, Charlotte Winsor, was saved from hanging by a doubt of the law. If the crime spread--as it usually did--the municipal governments issued an order for a day of fasting and humiliation, "in consideration of the extent to which Satan prevails amongst us in respect of witchcraft." Among the prosecutions which followed on such observances there was one here and there which turned out, too late, to have been a mistake. This kind of discovery might be made an occasion for more fasting and humiliation; but it seems to have had no effect in inducing caution or suggesting self-distrust. Mr. Parris and his partisans must have been aware that on occasion of the last great spread of witchcraft, the magistrates and the General Court had set aside the verdict of the jury in one case of wrongful accusation, and that there were other instances in which the general heart and conscience were cruelly wounded and oppressed, under the conviction that the wisest and saintliest woman in the community had been made away with by malice, at least as much as mistaken zeal. The wife of one of the most honored and prominent citizens of Boston, and the sister of the Deputy Governor of Massachusetts, Mrs. Hibbins, might have been supposed safe from the gallows, while she walked in uprightness, and all holiness and gentleness of living. But her husband died; and the pack of fanatics sprang upon her, and tore her to pieces--name and fame, fortune, life, and everything. She was hanged in 1656, and the farmers of Salem Village and their pastor were old enough to know, in Mr. Parris' time, how the "famous Mr. Norton," an eminent pastor, "once said at his own table"--before clergymen and elders--"that one of their magistrates' wives was hanged for a witch, only for having more wit than her neighbors;" and to be aware that in Boston "a deep feeling of resentment" against her persecutors rankled in the minds of some of her citizens; and that they afterward "observed solemn marks of Providence set upon those who were very forward to condemn her." The story of Mrs. Hibbins, as told in the book before us, with the brief and simple comment of her own pleading in court, and the codicil to her will, is so piteous and so fearful, that it is difficult to imagine how any clergyman could countenance a similar procedure before the memory of the execution had died out, and could be supported in his course by officers of his church, and at length by the leading clergy of the district, the magistrates, the physicians, "and devout women not a few." [Here are evidences of large Cautiousness, fear, and timidity, with the vivid imagination of untrained childhood.] PHENOMENA OF WITCHERY. In the interval between the execution of Mrs. Hibbins and the outbreak at Salem an occasional breeze arose against some unpopular member of society. If a man's ox was ill, if the beer ran out of the cask, if the butter would not come in the churn, if a horse shied or was restless when this or that man or woman was in sight; and if a woman knew when her neighbors were talking about her (which was Mrs. Hibbins' most indisputable proof of connection with the devil), rumors got about of Satanic intercourse; men and women made deposition that six or seven years before, they had seen the suspected person yawn in church, and had observed a "devil's teat" distinctly visible under his tongue; and children told of bears coming to them in the night, and of a buzzing devil in the humble-bee, and of a cat on the bed thrice as big as an ordinary cat. But the authorities, on occasion, exercised some caution. They fined one accused person for telling a lie, instead of treating his bragging as inspiration of the devil. They induced timely confession, or discovered flaws in the evidence, as often as they could; so that there was less disturbance in the immediate neighborhood than in some other parts of the province. Where the Rev. Mr. Parris went, however, there was no more peace and quiet, no more privacy in the home, no more harmony in the church, no more goodwill or good manners in society. As soon as he was ordained he put perplexing questions about baptism before the farmers, who rather looked to him for guidance in such matters than expected to be exercised in theological mysteries which they had never studied. He exposed to the congregation the spiritual conflicts of individual members who were too humble for their own comfort. He preached and prayed incessantly about his own wrongs and the slights he suffered, in regard to his salary and supplies; and entered satirical notes in the margin of the church records; so that he was as abundantly discussed from house to house, and from end to end of his parish, as he himself could have desired. In the very crisis of the discontent, and when his little world was expecting to see him dismissed, he saved himself, as we ourselves have of late seen other persons relieve themselves under stress of mind and circumstances, by a rush into the world of spirits. Four years previously, a poor immigrant, a Catholic Irishwoman, had been hanged in Boston for bewitching four children, named Goodwin--one of whom, a girl of thirteen, had sorely tried a reverend man, less irascible than Mr. Parris, but nearly as excitable. The tricks that the little girl played the Reverend Cotton Mather, when he endeavored to exorcise the evil spirits, are precisely such as are familiar to us, in cases which are common in the practice of every physician. If we can not pretend to explain them--in the true sense of explaining--that is, referring them to an ascertained law of nature, we know what to look for under certain conditions, and are aware that it is the brain and nervous system that is implicated in these phenomena, and not the Prince of Darkness and his train. Cotton Mather had no alternative at his disposal. Satan or nothing was his only choice. He published the story, with all its absurd details; and it was read in almost every house in the Province. At Salem it wrought with fatal effect, because there was a pastor close by well qualified to make the utmost mischief out of it. [In cases of _hysteria_, the phenomena are sometimes so remarkable, that one is disposed to attribute their cause to influences beyond nature.] PARRIS AND HIS "CIRCLE." Mr. Parris had lived in the West Indies for some years, and had brought several slaves with him to Salem. One of these, an Indian named John, and Tituba his wife, seem to have been full of the gross superstitions of their people, and of the frame and temperament best adapted for the practices of demonology. In such a state of affairs the pastor actually formed, or allowed to be formed, a society of young girls between the ages of eight and eighteen to meet in his parsonage, strongly resembling those "circles" in the America of our time which have filled the lunatic asylums with thousands of victims of "spiritualist" visitations. It seems that these young persons were laboring under strong nervous excitement, which was encouraged rather than repressed by the means employed by their spiritual director. Instead of treating them as the subjects of morbid delusion, Mr. Parris regarded them as the victims of external diabolical influence; and this influence was, strangely enough, supposed to be exercised, on the evidence of the children themselves, by some of the most pious and respectable members of the community. We need not describe the course of events. In the dull life of the country, the excitement of the proceedings in the "circle" was welcome, no doubt; and it was always on the increase. Whatever trickery there might be--and no doubt there was plenty; whatever excitement to hysteria, whatever actual sharpening of common faculties, it is clear that there was more; and those who have given due and dispassionate attention to the processes of mesmerism and their effects can have no difficulty in understanding the reports handed down of what these young creatures did, and said, and saw, under peculiar conditions of the nervous system. When the physicians of the district could see no explanation of the ailments of "the afflicted children" but "the evil hand," no doubt could remain to those who consulted them of these agonies being the work of Satan. The matter was settled at once. But Satan can work only through human agents; and who were his instruments for the affliction of these children? Here was the opening through which calamity rushed in; and for half a year this favored corner of the godly land of New England was turned into a hell. The more the children were stared at and pitied, the bolder they grew in their vagaries, till at last they broke through the restraints of public worship, and talked nonsense to the minister in the pulpit, and profaned the prayers. Mr. Parris assembled all the divines he could collect at his parsonage, and made his troop go through their performances--the result of which was a general groan over the manifest presence of the Evil One, and a passionate intercession for "the afflicted children." [These afflicted children of Salem, in 1690, were kindred to the numerous "mediums" of 1869. In the former, ignorance ascribed their actions and revelations to the devil, who bewitched certain persons. Now, we simply have the more innocent "communications" from where and from whom you like.] THE INQUISITIONS.--SARAH GOOD. The first step toward relief was to learn who it was that had stricken them; and the readiest means that occurred was to ask this question of the children themselves. At first, they named no names, or what they said was not disclosed; but there was soon an end of all such delicacy. The first symptoms had occurred in November, 1691; and the first public examination of witches took place on the 1st of March following. We shall cite as few of the cases as will suffice for our purpose; for they are exceedingly painful; and there is something more instructive for us in the spectacle of the consequences, and in the suggestions of the story, than in the scenery of persecution and murder. In the first group of accused persons was one Sarah Good, a weak, ignorant, poor, despised woman, whose equally weak and ignorant husband had forsaken her, and left her to the mercy of evil tongues. He had called her an enemy to all good, and had said that if she was not a witch, he feared she would be one shortly. Her assertions under examination were that she knew nothing about the matter; that she had hurt nobody, nor employed anybody to hurt another; that she served God; and that the God she served was He who made heaven and earth. It appears, however, that she believed in the reality of the "affliction;" for she ended by accusing a fellow-prisoner of having hurt the children. The report of the examination, noted at the time by two of the heads of the congregation, is inane and silly beyond belief; yet the celebration was unutterably solemn to the assembled crowd of fellow-worshipers; and it sealed the doom of the community, in regard to peace and good repute. A CHILD WITCH. Mrs. Good was carried to jail. Not long after her little daughter Dorcas, aged four years, was apprehended at the suit of the brothers Putnam, chief citizens of Salem. There was plenty of testimony produced of bitings and chokings and pinchings inflicted by this infant; and she was committed to prison, and probably, as Mr. Upham says, fettered with the same chains which bound her mother. Nothing short of chains could keep witches from flying away; and they were chained at the cost of the state, when they could not pay for their own irons. As these poor creatures were friendless and poverty-stricken, it is some comfort to find the jailer charging for "two blankets for Sarah Good's child," costing ten shillings. What became of little Dorcas, with her healthy looks and natural childlike spirits, noticed by her accusers, we do not learn. Her mother lay in chains till the 29th of June, when she was brought out to receive sentence. She was hanged on the 19th of July, after having relieved her heart by vehement speech of some of the passion which weighed upon it. She does not seem to have been capable of much thought. One of the accusers was convicted of a flagrant lie, in the act of giving testimony: but the narrator, Hutchinson, while giving the fact, treats it as of no consequence, because Sir Matthew Hale and the jury of his court were satisfied with the condemnation of a witch under precisely the same circumstances. The parting glimpse we have of this first victim is dismally true on the face of it. It is most characteristic. "Sarah Good appears to have been an unfortunate woman, having been subject to poverty, and consequent sadness and melancholy. But she was not wholly broken in spirit. Mr. Noyes, at the time of her execution, urged her very strenuously to confess. Among other things, he told her 'she was a witch, and that she knew she was a witch.' She was conscious of her innocence, and felt that she was oppressed, outraged, trampled upon, and about to be murdered, under the forms of law; and her indignation was roused against her persecutors. She could not bear in silence the cruel aspersion; and although she was about to be launched into eternity, the torrent of her feelings could not be restrained, but burst upon the head of him who uttered the false accusation. 'You are a liar,' said she. 'I am no more a witch than you are a wizard; and if you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink.' Hutchinson says that, in his day, there was a tradition among the people of Salem, and it has descended to the present time, that the manner of Mr. Noyes' death strangely verified the prediction thus wrung from the incensed spirit of the dying woman. He was exceedingly corpulent, of a plethoric habit, and died of an internal hemorrhage, bleeding profusely at the mouth." (Vol. ii. p. 269.) When she had been in her grave nearly twenty years, her representatives--little Dorcas perhaps for one--were presented with thirty pounds sterling, as a grant from the Crown, as compensation for the mistake of hanging her without reason and against evidence. THE TOWNE SISTERS. In the early part of the century, a devout family named Towne were living at Great Yarmouth, in the English county of Norfolk. About the time of the King's execution they emigrated to Massachusetts. William Towne and his wife carried with them two daughters; and another daughter and a son were born to them afterward in Salem. The three daughters were baptized at long intervals, and the eldest, Rebecca, must have been at least twenty years older than Sarah, and a dozen or more years older than Mary. A sketch of the fate of these three sisters contains within it the history of a century. On the map which Mr. Upham presents us with, one of the most conspicuous estates is an inclosure of 300 acres, which had a significant story of its own--too long for us to enter upon. We need only say that there had been many strifes about this property--fights about boundaries, and stripping of timber, and a series of lawsuits. Yet, from 1678 onward, the actual residents in the mansion had lived in peace, taking no notice of wrangles which did not, under the conditions of purchase, affect them, but only the former proprietor. The frontispiece of Mr. Upham's book shows us what the mansion of an opulent landowner was like in the early days of the colony. It is the portrait of the house in which the eldest daughter of William Towne was living at the date of the Salem Tragedy. Rebecca, then the aged wife of Francis Nurse, was a great-grandmother, and between seventy and eighty years of age. No old age could have had a more lovely aspect than hers. Her husband was, as he had always been, devoted to her, and the estate was a colony of sons and daughters, and their wives and husbands; for 'Landlord Nurse' had divided his land between his four sons and three sons-in-law, and had built homesteads for them all as they married and settled. Mrs. Nurse was in full activity of faculty, except being somewhat deaf from age; and her health was good, except for certain infirmities of long standing, which it required the zeal and the malice of such a divine as Mr. Parris to convert into "devil's marks." As for her repute in the society of which she was the honored head, we learn what it was by the testimony supplied by forty persons--neighbors and householders--who were inquired of in regard to their opinion of her in the day of her sore trial. Some of them had known her above forty years; they had seen her bring up a large family in uprightness; they had remarked the beauty of her Christian profession and conduct; and had never heard or observed any evil of her. This was Rebecca, the eldest. The next, Mary, was now fifty-eight years old, the wife of "Goodman Easty," the owner of a large farm. She had seven children, and was living in ease and welfare of every sort when overtaken by the same calamity as her sister Nurse. Sarah, the youngest, had married twice. Her present husband was Peter Cloyse, whose name occurs in the parish records, and in various depositions which show that he was a prominent citizen. When Mr. Parris was publicly complaining of neglect in respect of firewood for the parsonage, and of lukewarmness on the part of the hearers of his services, "Landlord Nurse" was a member of the committee who had to deal with him; and his relatives were probably among the majority who were longing for Mr. Parris' apparently inevitable departure. In these circumstances, it was not altogether surprising that "the afflicted children" trained in the parsonage parlor, ventured, after their first successes, to name the honored "Goody Nurse" as one of the allies lately acquired by Satan. They saw her here, there, everywhere, when she was sitting quietly at home; they saw her biting the black servants, choking, pinching, pricking women and children; and if she was examined, devil's marks would doubtless be found upon her. She _was_ examined by a jury of her own sex. Neither the testimony of her sisters and daughters as to her infirmities, nor the disgust of decent neighbors, nor the commonest suggestions of reason and feeling, availed to save her from the injury of being reported to have what the witnesses were looking for. We have a glimpse of her in her home when the first conception of her impending fate opened upon her. Four esteemed persons, one of whom was her brother-in-law, Mr. Cloyse, made the following deposition, in the prospect of the victim being dragged before the public: "We whose names are underwritten being desired to go to Goodman Nurse, his house, to speak with his wife, and to tell her that several of the afflicted persons mentioned her; and accordingly we went, and we found her in a weak and low condition in body as she told us, and had been sick almost a week. And we asked how it was otherwise with her; and she said she blessed God for it, she had more of his presence in this sickness than sometimes she have had, but not so much as she desired; but she would, with the Apostle, press forward to the mark; and many other places of Scripture to the like purpose. And then of her own accord she began to speak of the affliction that was among them, and in particular of Mr. Parris his family, and how she was grieved for them, though she had not been to see them, by reason of fits that she formerly used to have; for people said it was awful to behold: but she pitied them with all her heart, and went to God for them. But she said she heard that there was persons spoke of that were as innocent as she was, she believed; and after much to this purpose, we told her we heard that she was spoken of also. 'Well,' she said, 'if it be so, the will of the Lord be done:' she sat still awhile being as it were amazed; and then she said, 'Well, as to this thing I am as innocent as the child unborn; but surely,' she said, 'what sin hath God found out in me unrepented of, that he should lay such an affliction upon me in my old age?' and, according to our best observation, we could not discern that she knew what we came for before we told her. ISRAEL PORTER, DANIEL ANDREW, ELIZABETH PORTER, PETER CLOYSE." On the 22d of March she was brought into the thronged meeting-house to be accused before the magistrates, and to answer as she best could. We must pass over those painful pages, where nonsense, spasms of hysteria, new and strange to their worships, cunning, cruelty, blasphemy, indecency, turned the house of prayer into a hell for the time. The aged woman could explain nothing. She simply asserted her innocence, and supposed that some evil spirit was at work. One thing more she could do--she could endure with calmness malice and injustice which are too much for our composure at a distance of nearly two centuries. She felt the _animus_ of her enemies, and she pointed out how they perverted whatever she said; but no impatient word escaped her. She was evidently as perplexed as anybody present. When weary and disheartened, and worn out with the noise and the numbers and the hysterics of the "afflicted," her head drooped on one shoulder. Immediately all the "afflicted" had twisted necks, and rude hands seized her head to set it upright, "lest other necks should be broken by her ill offices." Everything went against her, and the result was what had been hoped by the agitators. The venerable matron was carried to jail and put in irons. DEPOSITIONS OF PARRIS AND HIS TOOLS. Now Mr. Parris' time had arrived, and he broadly accused her of murder, employing for the purpose a fitting instrument--Mrs. Ann Putnam, the mother of one of the afflicted children, and herself of highly nervous temperament, undisciplined mind, and absolute devotedness to her pastor. Her deposition, preceded by a short one of Mr. Parris, will show the quality of the evidence on which judicial murder was inflicted: "Mr. Parris gave in a deposition against her; from which it appears, that, a certain person being sick, Mercy Lewis was sent for. She was struck dumb on entering the chamber. She was asked to hold up her hand if she saw any of the witches afflicting the patient. Presently she held up her hand, then fell into a trance; and after a while, coming to herself, said that she saw the spectre of Goody Nurse and Goody Carrier having hold of the head of the sick man. Mr. Parris swore to this statement with the utmost confidence in Mercy's declarations." (Vol. ii. p. 275.) "The deposition of Ann Putnam, the wife of Thomas Putnam, aged about thirty years, who testifieth and saith, that on March 18, 1692, I being wearied out in helping to tend my poor afflicted child and maid, about the middle of the afternoon I lay me down on the bed to take a little rest; and immediately I was almost pressed and choked to death, that had it not been for the mercy of a gracious God and the help of those that were with me, I could not have lived many moments; and presently I saw the apparition of Martha Corey, who did torture me so as I can not express, ready to tear me all to pieces, and then departed from me a little while; but, before I could recover strength or well take breath, the apparition of Martha Corey fell upon me again with dreadful tortures, and hellish temptation to go along with her. And she also brought to me a little red book in her hand, and a black pen, urging me vehemently to write in her book; and several times that day she did most grievously torture me, almost ready to kill me. And on the 19th of March, Martha Corey again appeared to me; and also Rebecca Nurse, the wife of Francis Nurse, Sr.; and they both did torture me a great many times this day, with such tortures as no tongue can express, because I would not yield to their hellish temptations, that, had I not been upheld by an Almighty arm, I could not have lived while night. The 20th of March, being Sabbath-day, I had a great deal of respite between my fits. 21st of March being the day of the examination of Martha Corey, I had not many fits, though I was very weak; my strength being, as I thought, almost gone; but, on 22d of March, 1692, the apparition of Rebecca Nurse did again set upon me in a most dreadful manner, very early in the morning, as soon as it was well light. And now she appeared to me only in her shift, and brought a little red book in her hand, urging me vehemently to write in her book; and, because I would not yield to her hellish temptations, she threatened to tear my soul out of my body, blasphemously denying the blessed God, and the power of the Lord Jesus Christ to save my soul; and denying several places of Scripture, which I told her of, to repel her hellish temptations. And for near two hours together, at this time, the apparition of Rebecca Nurse did tempt and torture me, and also the greater part of this day, with but very little respite. 23d of March, am again afflicted by the apparitions of Rebecca Nurse and Martha Corey, but chiefly by Rebecca Nurse. 24th of March, being the day of the examination of Rebecca Nurse, I was several times afflicted in the morning by the apparition of Rebecca Nurse, but most dreadfully tortured by her in the time of her examination, insomuch that the honored magistrates gave my husband leave to carry me out of the meeting-house; and, as soon as I was carried out of the meeting-house doors, it pleased Almighty God, for his free grace and mercy's sake, to deliver me out of the paws of those roaring lions, and jaws of those tearing bears, that, ever since that time, they have not had power so to afflict me until this May 31, 1692. At the same moment that I was hearing my evidence read by the honored magistrates, to take my oath, I was again re-assaulted and tortured by my before-mentioned tormentor, Rebecca Nurse." "The testimony of Ann Putnam, Jr., witnesseth and saith, that, being in the room where her mother was afflicted, she saw Martha Corey, Sarah Cloyse, and Rebecca Nurse, or their apparitions, upon her mother." "Mrs. Ann Putnam made another deposition under oath at the same trial, which shows that she was determined to overwhelm the prisoner by the multitude of her charges. She says that Rebecca Nurse's apparition declared to her that 'she had killed Benjamin Houlton, John Fuller, and Rebecca Shepherd;' and that she and her sister Cloyse, and Edward Bishop's wife, had killed young John Putnam's child; and she further deposed as followeth: 'Immediately there did appear to me six children in winding-sheets, which called me aunt, which did most grievously affright me; and they told me that they were my sister Baker's children of Boston; and that Goody Nurse, and Mistress Corey of Charlestown, and an old deaf woman at Boston, had murdered them, and charged me to go and tell these things to the magistrates, or else they would tear me to pieces, for their blood did cry for vengeance. Also there appeared to me my own sister Bayley and three of her children in winding-sheets, and told me that Goody Nurse had murdered them.'" (Vol. ii. p. 278.) All the efforts made to procure testimony against the venerable gentlewoman's character issued in a charge that she had so "railed at" a neighbor for allowing his pigs to get into her field that, some short time after, early in the morning, he had a sort of fit in his own entry, and languished in health from that day, and died in a fit at the end of the summer. "He departed this life by a cruel death," murdered by Goody Nurse. The jury did not consider this ground enough for hanging the old lady, who had been the ornament of their church and the glory of their village and its society. Their verdict was "Not Guilty." Not for a moment, however, could the prisoner and her family hope that their trial was over. The outside crowd clamored; the "afflicted" howled and struggled; one judge declared himself dissatisfied; another promised to have her indicted anew; and the Chief Justice pointed out a phrase of the prisoner's which might be made to signify that she was one of the accused gang in guilt, as well as in jeopardy. It might really seem as if the authorities were all driveling together, when we see the ingenuity and persistence with which they discussed those three words, "of our company." Her remonstrance ought to have moved them: "I intended no otherwise than as they were prisoners with us, and therefore did then, and yet do, judge them not legal evidence against their fellow-prisoners. And I being something hard of hearing and full of grief, none informing me how the Court took up my words, therefore had no opportunity to declare what I intended when I said they were of our company." (Vol. ii. p. 285.) The foreman of the jury would have taken the favorable view of this matter, and have allowed full consideration, while other jurymen were eager to recall the mistake of their verdict; but the prisoner's silence, from failing to hear when she was expected to explain, turned the foreman against her, and caused him to declare, "whereupon these words were to me a principal evidence against her." Still, it seemed too monstrous to hang her. After her condemnation, the Governor reprieved her; probably on the ground of the illegality of setting aside the first verdict of the jury, in the absence of any new evidence. But the outcry against mercy was so fierce that the Governor withdrew his reprieve. GOODY NURSE'S EXCOMMUNICATION. On the next Sunday there was a scene in the church, the record of which was afterward annotated by the church members in a spirit of grief and humiliation. After sacrament the elders propounded to the church, and the congregation unanimously agreed, that Sister Nurse, being convicted as a witch by the court, should be excommunicated in the afternoon of the same day. The place was thronged; the reverend elders were in the pulpit; the deacons presided below; the sheriff and his officers brought in the witch, and led her up the broad aisle, her chains clanking as she moved. As she stood in the middle of the aisle, the Reverend Mr. Noyes pronounced her sentence of expulsion from the Church on earth, and from all hope of salvation hereafter. As she had given her soul to Satan, she was delivered over to him for ever. She was aware that every eye regarded her with horror and hate, unapproached under any other circumstances; but it appears that she was able to sustain it. She was still calm and at peace on that day, and during the fortnight of final waiting. When the time came, she traversed the streets of Salem between houses in which she had been an honored guest, and surrounded by well-known faces; and then there was the hard task, for her aged limbs, of climbing the rocky and steep path on Witches' Hill to the place where the gibbets stood in a row, and the hangman was waiting for her, and for Sarah Good, and several more of whom Salem chose to be rid that day. It was the 19th of July, 1692. The bodies were put out of the way on the hill, like so many dead dogs; but this one did not remain there long. By pious hands it was--nobody knew when--brought home to the domestic cemetery, where the next generation pointed out the grave, next to her husband's, and surrounded by those of her children. As for her repute, Hutchinson, the historian, tells us that even excommunication could not permanently disgrace her. "Her life and conversation had been such, that the remembrance thereof, in a short time after, wiped off all the reproach occasioned by the civil or ecclesiastical sentence against her." (Vol. ii. p. 292.) [Great God! and is this the road our ancestors had to travel in their pilgrimage in quest of freedom and Christianity? Are these the fruits of the misunderstood doctrine of total depravity?] Thus much comfort her husband had till he died in 1695. In a little while none of his eight children remained unmarried, and he wound up his affairs. He gave over the homestead to his son Samuel, and divided all he had among the others, reserving only a mare and her saddle, some favorite articles of furniture, and £14 a year, with a right to call on his children for any further amount that might be needful. He made no will, and his children made no difficulties, but tended his latter days, and laid him in his own ground, when at seventy-seven years old he died. In 1711, the authorities of the Province, sanctioned by the Council of Queen Anne, proposed such reparation as their heart and conscience suggested. They made a grant to the representatives of Rebecca Nurse of £25! In the following year something better was done, on the petition of the son Samuel who inhabited the homestead. A church meeting was called; the facts of the excommunication of twenty years before were recited, and a reversal was proposed, "the General Court having taken off the attainder, and the testimony on which she was convicted being not now so satisfactory to ourselves and others as it was generally in that hour of darkness and temptation." The remorseful congregation blotted out the record in the church book, "humbly requesting that the merciful God would pardon whatsoever sin, error, or mistake was in the application of that censure, and of the whole affair, through our merciful High Priest, who knoweth how to have compassion on the ignorant, and those that are out of the way." (Vol. ii. p. 483.) MARY EASTY. Such was the fate of Rebecca, the eldest of the three sisters. Mary, the next--once her playmate on the sands of Yarmouth, in the old country--was her companion to the last, in love and destiny. Mrs. Easty was arrested, with many other accused persons, on the 21st of April, while her sister was in jail in irons. The testimony against her was a mere repetition of the charges of torturing, strangling, pricking, and pinching Mr. Parris' young friends, and rendering them dumb, or blind, or amazed. Mrs. Easty was evidently so astonished and perplexed by the assertions of the children, that the magistrates inquired of the voluble witnesses whether they might not be mistaken. As they were positive, and Mrs. Easty could say only that she supposed it was "a bad spirit," but did not know "whether it was witchcraft or not," there was nothing to be done but to send her to prison and put her in irons. The next we hear of her is, that on the 18th of May she was free. The authorities, it seems, would not detain her on such evidence as was offered. She was at large for two days, and no more. The convulsions and tortures of the children returned instantly, on the news being told of Goody Easty being abroad again; and the ministers, and elders, and deacons, and all the zealous antagonists of Satan went to work so vigorously to get up a fresh case, that they bore down all before them. Mercy Lewis was so near death under the hands of Mrs. Easty's apparition that she was crying out "Dear Lord! receive my soul!" and thus there was clearly no time to be lost; and this choking and convulsion, says an eminent citizen, acting as a witness, "occurred very often until such time as we understood Mary Easty was laid in irons." There she was lying when her sister Nurse was tried, excommunicated, and executed; and to the agony of all this was added the arrest of her sister Sarah, Mrs. Cloyse. But she had such strength as kept her serene up to the moment of her death on the gibbet on the 22d of September following. We would fain give, if we had room, the petition of the two sisters, Mrs. Easty and Mrs. Cloyse, to the court, when their trial was pending; but we can make room only for the last clause of its reasoning and remonstrance. "Thirdly, that the testimony of witches, or such as are afflicted as is supposed by witches, may not be improved to condemn us without other legal evidence concurring. We hope the honored Court and jury will be so tender of the lives of such as we are, who have for many years lived under the unblemished reputation of Christianity, as not to condemn them without a fair and equal hearing of what may be said for us as well as against us. And your poor suppliants shall be bound always to pray, etc." (Vol. ii. p. 326.) Still more affecting is the Memorial of Mrs. Easty when under sentence of death and fully aware of the hopelessness of her case. She addresses the judges, the magistrates, and the reverend ministers, imploring them to consider what they are doing, and how far their course in regard to accused persons is consistent with the principles and rules of justice. She asks nothing for herself; she is satisfied with her own innocency, and certain of her doom on earth and her hope in heaven. What she desires is to induce the authorities to take time, to use caution in receiving and strictness in sifting testimony; and so shall they ascertain the truth, and absolve the innocent, the blessing of God being upon their conscientious endeavors. We do not know of any effect produced by her warning and remonstrance; but we find her case estimated, twenty years afterward, as meriting a compensation of £20! [About one hundred dollars.] Before setting forth from the jail to the Witches' Hill, on the day of her death, she serenely bade farewell to her husband, her many children, and her friends, some of whom related afterward that "her sayings were as serious, religious, distinct, and affectionate as could well be expressed, drawing tears from the eyes of almost all present." MRS. CLOYSE. The third of this family of dignified gentlewomen seems to have had a keener sensibility than her sisters, or a frame less strong to endure the shocks prepared and inflicted by the malice of the enemy. Some of the incidents of her implication in the great calamity are almost too moving to be dwelt on, even in a remote time and country. Mrs. Cloyse drew ill-will upon herself at the outset by doing as her brother and sister Nurse did. They all absented themselves from the examinations in the church, and, when the interruptions of the services became too flagrant, from Sabbath worship; and they said they took that course because they disapproved of the permission given to the profanation of the place and the service. They were communicants, and persons of consideration, both in regard to character and position; and their quiet disapprobation of the proceedings of the ministers and their company of accusers subjected them to the full fury of clerical wrath and womanish spite. When the first examination of Mrs. Nurse took place, Mrs. Cloyse was of course overwhelmed with horror and grief. The next Sunday, however, was Sacrament Sunday; and she and her husband considered it their duty to attend the ordinance. The effort to Mrs. Cloyse was so great that when Mr. Parris gave out his text, "One of you is a devil. He spake of Judas Iscariot," etc., and when he opened his discourse with references in his special manner to the transactions of the week, the afflicted sister of the last victim could not endure the outrage. She left the meeting. There was a fresh wind, and the door slammed as she went out, fixing the attention of all present, just as Mr. Parris could have desired. She had not to wait long for the consequences. On the 4th of April she was apprehended with several others; and on the 11th her examination took place, the questions being framed to suit the evidence known to be forthcoming, and Mr. Parris being the secretary for the occasion. The witness in one case was asked whether she saw a company eating and drinking at Mr. Parris', and she replied, as expected, that she did. "What were they eating and drinking?" Of course, it was the Devil's sacrament; and Mr. Parris, by leading questions, brought out the testimony that about forty persons partook of that hell-sacrament, Mrs. Cloyse and Sarah Good being the two deacons! When accused of the usual practices of cruelty to these innocent suffering children, and to the ugly, hulking Indian slave, who pretended to show the marks of her teeth, Mrs. Cloyse gave some vent to her feelings. "When did I hurt thee?" "A great many times," said the Indian. "O, you are a grievous liar!" exclaimed she. But the wrath gave way under the soul-sickness which overcame her when charged with biting and pinching a black man, and throttling children, and serving their blood at the blasphemous supper. Her sisters in prison, her husband accused with her, and young girls--mere children--now manifesting a devilish cruelty to her, who had felt nothing but good-will to them--she could not sustain herself before the assembly whose eyes were upon her. She sank down, calling for water. She fainted on the floor, and some of the accusing children cried out, "Oh! her spirit has gone to prison to her sister Nurse!" From that examination she was herself carried to prison. When she joined her sister Easty in the petition to the Court in the next summer, she certainly had no idea of escaping the gallows; but it does not appear that she was ever brought to trial. Mr. Parris certainly never relented; for we find him from time to time torturing the feelings of this and every other family whom he supposed to be anything but affectionate to him. Some of the incidents would be almost incredible to us if they were not recorded in the church and parish books in Mr. Parris' own distinct handwriting. On the 14th of August, when the corpse of Rebecca Nurse was lying among the rocks on the Witches' Hill, and her two sisters were in irons in Boston jail (for Boston had now taken the affair out of the hands of the unaided Salem authorities), and his predecessor, Mr. Burroughs, was awaiting his execution, Mr. Parris invited his church members to remain after service to hear something that he had to say. He had to point out to the vigilance of the church that Samuel Nurse, the son of Rebecca, and his wife, and Peter Cloyse and certain others, of late had failed to join the brethren at the Lord's table, and had, except Samuel Nurse, rarely appeared at ordinary worship. These outraged and mourning relatives of the accused sisters were decreed to be visited by certain pious representatives of the church, and the reason of their absence to be demanded. The minister, the two deacons, and a chief member were appointed to this fearful task. The report delivered in on the 31st of August was: "Brother Tarbell proves sick, unmeet for discourse; Brother Cloyse hard to be found at home, being often with his wife in the prison at Ipswich for witchcraft; and Brother Samuel Nurse, and sometimes his wife, attends our public meeting, and he the sacrament, 11th of September, 1692: upon all which we chose to wait further." (Vol. ii. p. 486.) This decision to pause was noted as the first token of the decline of the power of the ministers. Mr. Parris was sorely unwilling to yield even this much advantage to Satan--that is, to family affection and instinct of justice. But his position was further lowered by the departure from the parish of some of the most eminent members of its society. Mr. Cloyse never brought his family to the Village again, when his wife was once out of prison; and the name disappears from the history of Salem. THE PROCTOR FAMILY. We have sketched the life of one family out of many, and we will leave the rest for such of our readers as may choose to learn more. Some of the statements in the book before us disclose a whole family history in a few words; as the following in relation to John Proctor and his wife: "The bitterness of the prosecutors against Proctor was so vehement that they not only arrested, and tried to destroy, his wife and all his family above the age of infancy, in Salem, but all her relatives in Lynn, many of whom were thrown into prison. The helpless children were left destitute, and the house swept of its provisions by the sheriff. Proctor's wife gave birth to a child about a fortnight after his execution. This indicates to what alone she owed her life. John Proctor had spoken so boldly against the proceedings, and all who had part in them, that it was felt to be necessary to put him out of the way." (Vol. ii. p. 312.) The Rev. Mr. Noyes, the worthy coadjutor of Mr. Parris, refused to pray with Mr. Proctor before his death, unless he would confess; and the more danger there seemed to be of a revival of pity, humility, and reason, the more zealous waxed the wrath of the pious pastors against the Enemy of Souls. When, on the fearful 22d of September, Mr. Noyes stood looking at the execution, he exclaimed that it was a sad thing to see eight firebrands of hell hanging there! The spectacle was never seen again on Witches' Hill. THE JACOBS FAMILY. The Jacobs family was signalized by the confession of one of its members--Margaret, one of the "afflicted" girls. She brought her grandfather to the gallows, and suffered as much as a weak, ignorant, impressionable person under evil influences could suffer from doubt and remorse. But she married well seven years afterward--still feeling enough in regard to the past to refuse to be married by Mr. Noyes. She deserved such peace of mind as she obtained, for she retracted the confession of witchcraft which she had made, and went to prison. It was too late then to save her victims, Mr. Burroughs and her grandfather, but she obtained their full and free forgiveness. At that time this was the condition of the family: "No account has come to us of the deportment of George Jacobs, Sr., at his execution. As he was remarkable in life for the firmness of his mind, so he probably was in death. He had made his will before the delusion arose. It is dated January 29, 1692, and shows that he, like Proctor, had a considerable estate.... In his infirm old age he had been condemned to die for a crime of which he knew himself innocent, and which there is some reason to believe he did not think any one capable of committing. He regarded the whole thing as a wicked conspiracy and absurd fabrication. He had to end his long life upon a scaffold in a week from that day. His house was desolated, and his property sequestered. His only son, charged with the same crime, had eluded the sheriff--leaving his family, in the hurry of his flight, unprovided for--and was an exile in foreign lands. The crazy wife of that son was in prison and in chains, waiting trial on the same charge; her little children, including an unweaned infant, left in a deserted and destitute condition in the woods. The older children were scattered he knew not where, while one of them had completed the bitterness of his lot by becoming a confessor, upon being arrested with her mother as a witch. This granddaughter, Margaret, overwhelmed with fright and horror, bewildered by the statements of the accusers, and controlled probably by the arguments and arbitrary methods of address employed by her minister, Mr. Noyes--whose peculiar function in those proceedings seems to have been to drive persons accused to make confession--had been betrayed into that position, and became a confessor and accuser of others." (Vol. ii. p. 312.) GILES AND MARTHA COREY. The life and death of a prominent citizen, Giles Corey, should not be altogether passed over in a survey of such a community and such a time. He had land, and was called "Goodman Corey;" but he was unpopular from being too rough for even so young a state of society. He was once tried for the death of a man whom he had used roughly, but he was only fined. He had strifes and lawsuits with his neighbors; but he won three wives, and there was due affection between him and his children. He was eighty years old when the Witch Delusion broke out, and was living alone with his wife Martha--a devout woman who spent much of her time on her knees, praying against the snares of Satan, that is, the delusion about witchcraft. She spoke freely of the tricks of the children, the blindness of the magistrates, and the falling away of many from common sense and the word of God; and while her husband attended every public meeting, she stayed at home to pray. In his fanaticism he quarreled with her, and she was at once marked out for a victim, and one of the earliest. When visited by examiners, she smiled, and conversed with entire composure, declaring that she was no witch, and that "she did not think that there were any witches." By such sayings, and by the expressions of vexation that fell from her husband, and the fanaticism of two of her four sons-in-law, she was soon brought to extremity. But her husband was presently under accusation too; and much amazed he evidently was at his position. His wife was one of the eight "firebrands of hell" whom Mr. Noyes saw swung off on the 22d of September. "Martha Corey," said the record, "protesting her innocency, concluded her life with an eminent prayer on the scaffold." Her husband had been supposed certain to die in the same way; but he had chosen a different one. His anguish at his rash folly at the outset of the delusion excited the strongest desire to bear testimony on behalf of his wife and other innocent persons, and to give an emphatic blessing to the two sons-in-law who had been brave and faithful in his wife's cause. He executed a deed by which he presented his excellent children with his property in honor of their mother's memory; and, aware that if tried he would be condemned and executed, and his property forfeited, he resolved not to plead, and to submit to the consequence of standing mute. Old as he was, he endured it. He stood mute, and the court had, as the authorities believed, no alternative. He was pressed to death, as devoted husbands and fathers were, here and there, in the Middle Ages, when they chose to save their families from the consequences of attainders by dying untried. We will not sicken our readers with the details of the slow, cruel, and disgusting death. He bore it, only praying for heavier weights to shorten his agony. Such a death and such a testimony, and the execution of his wife two days later, weighed on every heart in the community; and no revival of old charges against the rough colonist had any effect in the presence of such an act as his last. He was long believed to haunt the places where he lived and died; and the attempt made by the ministers and one of their "afflicted" agents to impress the church and society with a vision which announced his damnation, was a complete failure. Cotton Mather showed that Ann Putnam had received a divine communication, proving Giles Corey a murderer; and Ann Putnam's father laid the facts before the judge; but it was too late now for visions, and for insinuations to the judges, and for clerical agitation to have any success. Brother Noyes hurried on a church meeting while Giles Corey was actually lying under the weights, to excommunicate him for witchcraft on the one hand, or suicide on the other; and the ordinance was passed. But it was of no avail against the rising tide of reason and sympathy. This was the last vision, and the last attempt to establish one in Salem, if not in the Province. It remained for Mr. Noyes, and the Mathers, and Mr. Parris, and every clergyman concerned, to endure the popular hatred and their own self-questioning for the rest of their days. The lay authorities were stricken with remorse and humbled with grief; but their share of the retribution was more endurable than that of the pastors who had proved so wolfish toward their flocks. DECLINE OF THE DELUSION. In the month of September, 1692, they believed themselves in the thick of "the fight between the Devil and the Lamb." Cotton Mather was nimble and triumphant on the Witches' Hill whenever there were "firebrands of hell" swinging there; and they all hoped to do much good work for the Lord yet, for they had lists of suspected persons in their pockets, who must be brought into the courts month by month, and carted off to the hill. One of the gayest and most complacent letters on the subject of this "fight" in the correspondence of Cotton Mather is dated on the 20th of September, 1692, within a month of the day when he was improving the occasion at the foot of the gallows where the former pastor, Rev. George Burroughs, and four others were hung. In the interval fifteen more received sentence of death; Giles Corey had died his fearful death the day before; and in two days after, Corey's widow and seven more were hanged. Mather, Noyes, and Parris had no idea that these eight would be the last. But so it was. Thus far, one only had escaped after being made sure of in the courts. The married daughter of a clergyman had been condemned, was reprieved by the Governor, and was at last discharged on the ground of the insufficiency of the evidence. Henceforth, after that fearful September day, no evidence was found sufficient. The accusers had grown too audacious in their selection of victims; their clerical patrons had become too openly determined to give no quarter. The Rev. Francis Dane signed memorials to the Legislature and the Courts on the 18th of October, against the prosecutions. He had reason to know something about them, for we hear of nine at least of his children, grandchildren, relatives, and servants who had been brought under accusation. He pointed out the snare by which the public mind, as well as the accused themselves, had been misled--the escape afforded to such as would confess. When one spoke out, others followed. When a reasonable explanation was afforded, ordinary people were only too thankful to seize upon it. Though the prisons were filled, and the courts occupied over and over again, there were no more horrors; the accused were all acquitted; and in the following May, Sir William Phipps discharged all the prisoners by proclamation. "Such a jail-delivery has never been known in New England," is the testimony handed down. The Governor was aware that the clergy, magistrates, and judges, hitherto active, were full of wrath at his course but public opinion now demanded a reversal of the administration of the last fearful year. THE PHYSIO-PSYCHOLOGICAL CAUSES OF THE TROUBLE. As to the striking feature of the case--the confessions of so large a proportion of the accused--Mr. Upham manifests the perplexity which we encounter in almost all narrators of similar scenes. In all countries and times in which trials for witchcraft have taken place, we find the historians dealing anxiously with the question--how it could happen that so many persons declared themselves guilty of an impossible offense, when the confession must seal their doom? The solution most commonly offered is one that may apply to a case here and there, but certainly can not be accepted as disposing of any large number. It is assumed that the victim preferred being killed at once to living on under suspicion, insult, and ill-will, under the imputation of having dealt with the Devil. Probable as this may be in the case of a stout-hearted, reasoning, forecasting person possessed of nerve to carry out a policy of suicide, it can never be believed of any considerable proportion of the ordinary run of old men and women charged with sorcery. The love of life and the horror of a cruel death at the hands of the mob or of the hangman are too strong to admit of a deliberate sacrifice so bold, on the part of terrified and distracted old people like the vast majority of the accused; while the few of a higher order, clearer in mind and stronger in nerve, would not be likely to effect their escape from an unhappy life by a lie of the utmost conceivable gravity. If, in the Salem case, life was saved by confession toward the last, it was for a special reason; and it seems to be a singular instance of such a mode of escape. Some other mode of explanation is needed; and the observations of modern inquiry supply it. There can be no doubt now that the sufferers under nervous disturbances, the subjects of abnormal condition, found themselves in possession of strange faculties, and thought themselves able to do new and wonderful things. When urged to explain how it was, they could only suppose, as so many of the Salem victims did, that it was by "some evil spirit;" and except where there was such an intervening agency as Mr. Parris' "circle," the only supposition was that the intercourse between the Evil Spirit and themselves was direct. It is impossible even now to witness the curious phenomena of somnambulism and catalepsy without a keen sense of how natural and even inevitable it was for similar subjects of the Middle Ages and in Puritan times to believe themselves ensnared by Satan, and actually endowed with his gifts, and to confess their calamity, as the only relief to their scared and miserable minds. This explanation seems not to have occurred to Mr. Upham; and, for want of it, he falls into great amazement at the elaborate artifice with which the sufferers invented their confessions, and adapted them to the state of mind of the authorities and the public. With the right key in his hand, he would have seen only what was simple and natural where he now bids us marvel at the pitch of artfulness and skill attained by poor wretches scared out of their natural wits. The spectacle of the ruin that was left is very melancholy. Orphan children were dispersed; homes were shut up, and properties lost; and what the temper was in which these transactions left the churches and the village, and the society of the towns, the pastors and the flocks, the Lord's table, the social gathering, the justice hall, the market, and every place where men were wont to meet, we can conceive. It was evidently long before anything like a reasonable and genial temper returned to society in and about Salem. The acknowledgments of error made long after were half-hearted, and so were the expressions of grief and pity in regard to the intolerable woes of the victims. It is scarcely intelligible how the admissions on behalf of the wronged should have been so reluctant, and the sympathy with the devoted love of their nearest and dearest so cold. We must cite what Mr. Upham says in honor of these last, for such solace is needed: "While, in the course of our story, we have witnessed some shocking instances of the violation of the most sacred affections and obligations of life, in husbands and wives, parents and children, testifying against each other, and exerting themselves for mutual destruction, we must not overlook the many instances in which filial, parental, and fraternal fidelity and love have shone conspicuously. It was dangerous to befriend an accused person. Proctor stood by his wife to protect her, and it cost him his life. Children protested against the treatment of their parents, and they were all thrown into prison. Daniel Andrew, a citizen of high standing, who had been deputy to the General Court, asserted, in the boldest language, his belief of Rebecca Nurse's innocence; and he had to fly the country to save his life. Many devoted sons and daughters clung to their parents, visited them in prison in defiance of a blood-thirsty mob; kept by their side on the way to execution; expressed their love, sympathy, and reverence to the last; and, by brave and perilous enterprise, got possession of their remains, and bore them back under the cover of midnight to their own thresholds, and to graves kept consecrated by their prayers and tears. One noble young man is said to have effected his mother's escape from the jail, and secreted her in the woods until after the delusion had passed away, provided food and clothing for her, erected a wigwam for her shelter, and surrounded her with every comfort her situation would admit of. The poor creature must, however, have endured a great amount of suffering; for one of her larger limbs was fractured in the all but desperate attempt to rescue her from the prison walls." (Vol. ii. p. 348.) The act of reversal of attainder, passed early in the next century, tells us that "some of the principal accusers and witnesses in those dark and severe prosecutions have since discovered themselves to be persons of profligate and vicious conversation;" and on no other authority we are assured that, "not without spot before, they became afterward abandoned to open vice." This was doubtless true of some; but of many it was not; and of this we shall have a word to say presently. THE LAST OF PARRIS. Mr. Parris' parsonage soon went to ruin, as did some of the dwellings of the "afflicted" children, who learned and practiced certain things in his house which he afterward pronounced to be arts of Satan, and declared to have been pursued without his knowledge and with the cognizance of only his servants (John and Tituba, the Indian and the negress). Barn, and well, and garden disappeared in a sorry tract of rough ground, and the dwelling became a mere handful of broken bricks. The narrative of the pastor's struggles and devices to retain his pulpit is very interesting; but they are not related to our object here; and all we need say is, that three sons and sons-in-law of Mrs. Nurse measured their strength against his, and, without having said an intemperate or superfluous word, or swerved from the strictest rules of congregational action, sent him out of the parish. He finally opined that "evil angels" had been permitted to tempt him and his coadjutors on either hand; he admitted that some mistakes had been made; and, said he, "I do humbly own this day, before the Lord and his people, that God has been righteously spitting in my face; and I desire to lie low under all this reproach," etc.; but the remonstrants could not again sit under his ministry, and his brethren in the Province did not pretend to exculpate him altogether. He buried his wife--against whom no record remains--and departed with his children, the eldest of whom, the playfellow of the "afflicted" children, he had sent away before she had taken harm in the "circle." He drifted from one small outlying congregation to another, neglected and poor, restless and untamed, though mortified, till he died in 1720. Mr. Noyes died somewhat earlier. He is believed not to have undergone much change, as to either his views or his temper. He was a kind-hearted and amiable man when nothing came in the way; but he could hold no terms with Satan; and in this he insisted to the last that he was right. Cotton Mather was the survivor of the other two. He died in 1728; and he never was happy again after that last batch of executions. He trusted to his merits, and the genius he exhibited under that onslaught of Satan, to raise him to the highest post of clerical power in the Province, and to make him--what he desired above all else--President of Harvard University. Mr. Upham presents us with a remarkable meditation written by the unhappy man, so simple and ingenious that it is scarcely possible to read it gravely; but the reader is not the less sensible of his misery. The argument is a sort of remonstrance with God on the recompense his services have met with. He has been appointed to serve the world, and the world does not regard him; the negroes, and (who could believe it?) the negroes are named Cotton Mather in contempt of him; the wise and the unwise despise him; in every company he is avoided and left alone; the female sex, and they speak basely of him; his relatives, and they are such monsters that he may truly say, "I am a brother to dragons;" the Government, and it heaps indignities upon him; the University, and if he were a blockhead, it could not treat him worse than it does. He is to serve all whom he can aid, and nobody ever does anything for him; he is to serve all to whom he can be a helpful and happy minister, and yet he is the most afflicted minister in the country; and many consider his afflictions to be so many miscarriages, and his sufferings in proportion to his sins. There was no popularity or power for him from the hour when he stood to see his brother Burroughs put to death on the Hill. He seems never to have got over his surprise at his own failures; but he sank into deeper mortification and a more childish peevishness to the end. "ONE OF THE AFFLICTED"--HER CONFESSION. Of only one of the class of express accusers--of the "afflicted"--will we speak; but not because she was the only one reclaimed. One bewildered child we have described as remorseful, and brave in her remorse; and others married as they would hardly have done if they had been among the "profligate." Ann Putnam's case remains the most prominent, and the most pathetic. She was twelve years old when the "circle" at Mr. Parris' was formed. She had no check from her parents, but much countenance and encouragement from her morbidly-disposed mother. She has the bad distinction of having been the last of the witnesses to declare a "vision" against a suspected person; but, on the other hand, she has the honor, such as it is, of having striven to humble herself before the memory of her victims. When she was nineteen her father died, and her mother followed within a fortnight, leaving the poor girl, in bad health and with scanty means, to take care of a family of children so large that there were eight, if not more, dependent on her. No doubt she was aided, and she did what she could; but she died worn out at the age of thirty-six. Ten years before that date she made her peace with the Church and society by offering a public confession in the meeting-house. In order to show what it was that the accusers did admit, we must make room for Ann Putnam's confession: "'I desire to be humbled before God for that sad and humbling providence that befell my father's family in the year about '92; that I, then being in my childhood, should, by such a providence of God, be made the instrument for the accusing of several persons of a grievous crime, whereby their lives were taken away from them, whom now I have just grounds and good reason to believe they were innocent persons; and that it was a great delusion of Satan that deceived me in that sad time, whereby I justly fear that I have been instrumental with others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon myself and this land the guilt of innocent blood; though what was said or done by me against any person I can truly and uprightly say, before God and man, I did it not out of any anger, malice, or ill-will to any person, for I had no such thing against one of them; but what I did was ignorantly, being deluded by Satan. And particularly, as I was a chief instrument of accusing Goodwife Nurse and her two sisters, I desire to lie in the dust, and to be humbled for it, in that I was a cause, with others, of so sad a calamity to them and their families; for which cause I desire to lie in the dust, and earnestly beg forgiveness of God, and from all those unto whom I have given just cause of sorrow and offense, whose relations were taken away or accused. (Signed) Ann Putnam.' "This confession was read before the congregation, together with her relation, August 25, 1706; and she acknowledged it. "J. GREEN, _Pastor_." (Vol. ii. p. 510.) THE TRANSITION. The most agreeable picture ever afforded by this remarkable community is that which our eyes rest on at the close of the story. One of the church members had refused to help to send Mr. Parris away, on the ground that the village had had four pastors, and had gone through worse strifes with every one; but he saw a change of scene on the advent of the fifth. The Rev. Joseph Green was precisely the man for the place and occasion. He was young--only two-and-twenty--and full of hope and cheerfulness, while sobered by the trials of the time. He had a wife and infants, and some private property, so that he could at once plant down a happy home among his people, without any injurious dependence on them. While exemplary in clerical duty, he encouraged an opposite tone of mind to that which had prevailed--put all the devils out of sight, promoted pigeon-shooting and fishing, and headed the young men in looking after hostile Indians. Instead of being jealous at the uprising of new churches, he went to lay the foundations, and invited the new brethren to his home. He promoted the claims of the sufferers impoverished by the recent social convulsion; he desired to bury not only delusions, but ill offices in silence; and by his hospitality he infused a cheerful social spirit into his stricken people. The very business of "seating" the congregation was so managed under his ministry as that members of the sinning and suffering families--members not in too direct an antagonism--were brought together for prayer, singing, and Sabbath-greeting, forgiving and forgetting as far as possible. Thus did this excellent pastor create a new scene of peace and good-will, which grew brighter for eighteen years, when he died at the age of forty. At the earliest moment that was prudent, he induced his church to cancel the excommunication of Rebecca Nurse and Giles Corey. It was ten years more before the hard and haughty mother church in Salem would do its part; but Mr. Green had the satisfaction of seeing that record also cleansed of its foul stains three years before his death. Judge Sewall had before made his penitential acknowledgment of proud error in full assembly, and had resumed his seat on the bench amid the forgiveness and respect of society; Chief Justice Stoughton had retired from the courts in obstinate rage at his conflicts with Satan having been cut short; the physicians hoped they should have no more patients "under the evil hand," to make them look foolish and feel helpless; and the Tragedy was over. There were doubtless secret tears and groans, horrors of shame and remorse by night and by day, and indignant removal of the bones of the murdered from outcast graves; and abstraction of painful pages from books of record, and much stifling of any conversation which could grow into tradition. The Tragedy was, no doubt, the central interest of society, families, and individuals throughout the Province for the life of one generation. Then, as silence had been kept in the homes as well as at church and market, the next generation entered upon life almost unconscious of the ghastly distinction which would attach in history to Massachusetts in general, and Salem in particular, as the scene of the Delusion and the Tragedy which showed the New World to be in essentials no wiser than the Old. How effectually the story of that year 1692 was buried in silence is shown by a remark of Mr. Upham's--that it has been too common for the Witch Tragedy to be made a jest of, or at least to be spoken of with levity. We can have no doubt that his labors have put an end to this. It is inconceivable that there can ever again be a joke heard on the subject of Witchcraft in Salem. But this remark of our author brings us at once home to our own country, time, and experience. It suggests the question whether the lesson afforded by this singular perfect piece of history is more or less appropriate to our own day and generation. THE FETISH THEORY THEN AND NOW. We have already observed that at the date of these events, the only possible explanation of the phenomena presented was the fetish solution which had in all ages been recurred to as a matter of course. In heathen times it was god, goddess, or nymph who gave knowledge, or power, or gifts of healing, or of prophecy, to men. In Christian times it was angel, or devil, or spirit of the dead; and this conception was in full force over all Christendom when the Puritan emigrants settled in New England. The celebrated sermon of the Rev. Mr. Lawson, in the work before us, discloses the elaborate doctrine held by the class of men who were supposed to know best in regard to the powers given by Satan to his agents, and the evils with which he afflicted his victims; and there was not only no reason why the pastor's hearers should question his interpretations, but no possibility that they should supply any of a different kind. The accused themselves, while unable to admit or conceive that they were themselves inspired by Satan, could propose no explanation but that the acts were done by "some bad spirit." And such has been the fetish tendency to this hour, through all the advance that has been made in science, and in the arts of observation and of reasoning. The fetish tendency--that of ascribing one's own consciousness to external objects, as when the dog takes a watch to be alive because it ticks, and when the savage thinks his god is angry because it thunders, and when the Puritan catechumen cries out in hysteria that Satan has set a witch to strangle her--that constant tendency to explain everything by the facts, the feelings, and the experience of the individual's own nature, is no nearer dying out now than at the time of the Salem Tragedy; and hence, in part, the seriousness and the instructiveness of this story to the present generation. Ours is the generation which has seen the spread of Spiritualism in Europe and America, a phenomenon which deprives us of all right to treat the Salem Tragedy as a jest, or to adopt a tone of superiority in compassion for the agents in that dismal drama. There are hundreds, even several thousands, of lunatics in the asylums of the United States, and not a few in our own country, who have been lodged there by the pursuit of intercourse with spirits; in other words, by ascribing to living but invisible external agents movements of their own minds. Mr. Parris remarked, in 1692, that of old, witches were only ignorant old women; whereas, in his day, they had come to be persons of knowledge, holiness, and devotion who had been drawn into that damnation; and in our day, we hear remarks on the superior refinement of spirit-intercourses, in comparison with the witch doings at Salem; but the cases are all essentially the same. In all, some peculiar and inexplicable appearances occur, and are, as a matter of course, when their reality can not be denied, ascribed to spiritual agency. We may believe that we could never act as the citizens of Salem acted in their superstition and their fear; and this may be true; but the course of speculation is, in "spiritual circles," very much the same as in Mr. Parris' parlor. And how much less excuse there is for our generation than for his! We are very far yet from being able to explain the well-known and indisputable facts which occur from time to time, in all countries where men abide and can give an account of themselves; such facts as the phenomena of natural somnambulism, of double consciousness, of suspended sensation while consciousness is awake, and the converse--of a wide range of intellectual and instinctive operations bearing the character of marvels to such as can not wait for the solution. We are still far from being able to explain such mysteries, in the only true sense of the word _explaining_--that is, being able to refer the facts to the natural cause to which they belong; but we have an incalculable advantage over the people of former centuries in knowing that for all proved facts there is a natural cause; that every cause to which proved facts within our cognizance are related is destined to become known to us; and that, in the present case, we have learned in what direction to search for it, and have set out on the quest. None of us can offer even the remotest conjecture as to what the law of the common action of what we call mind and body may be. If we could, the discovery would have been already made. But, instead of necessarily assuming, as the Salem people did, that what they witnessed was the operation of spiritual upon human beings, we have, as our field of observation and study, a region undreamed of by them--the brain as an organized part of the human frame, and the nervous system, implicating more facts, more secrets, and more marvels than our forefathers attributed to the whole body. THE VIEWS OF MODERN INVESTIGATORS. It is very striking to hear the modern lectures on physiological subjects delivered in every capital in Europe, and to compare the calm and easy manner in which the most astonishing and the most infernal phenomena are described and discussed, with the horror and dismay that the same facts would have created if disclosed by divines in churches three centuries ago. Dr. Maudsley, in his recent work on "The Physiology and Pathology of Mind," and other physicians occupied in his line of practice, lead us through the lunatic asylums of every country, pointing out as ordinary or extraordinary incidents the same "afflictions" of children and other morbid persons which we read of, one after another, in the Salem story. It is a matter of course with such practitioners and authors to anticipate such phenomena when they have detected the morbid conditions which generate them. Mr. Upham himself is evidently very far indeed from understanding or suspecting how much light is thrown on the darkest part of his subject by physiological researches carried on to the hour when he laid down his pen. His view is confined almost exclusively to the theory of fraud and falsehood, as affording the true key. It is not probable that anybody disputes or doubts the existence of guilt and folly in many or all of the agents concerned. There was an antecedent probability of both in regard to Mr. Parris' slaves, and to such of the young children as they most influenced; and that kind of infection is apt to spread. Moreover, experience shows us that the special excitement of that nervous condition induces moral vagaries at least as powerfully as mental delusions. In the state of temper existing among the inhabitants of the Village when the mischievous club of girls was formed at the pastor's house, it was inevitable that, if magic was entered upon at all, it would be malignant magic. Whatever Mr. Upham has said in illustration of that aspect of the case his readers will readily agree to. But there is a good deal more, even of the imperfect notices that remain after the abstraction and destruction of the records in the shame and anguish that ensued, which we, in our new dawn of science, can perceive to be an affair of the bodily organization. We are, therefore, obliged to him for rescuing this tremendous chapter of history from oblivion, and for the security in which he has placed the materials of evidence. In another generation the science of the human frame may have advanced far enough to elucidate some of the Salem mysteries, together with some obscure facts in all countries, which can not be denied, while as yet they can not be understood. When that time comes, a fearful weight of imputation will be removed from the name and fame of many agents and sufferers who have been the subjects of strange maladies and strange faculties, in all times and countries. As we are now taught the new discoveries of the several nerve-centers, and the powers which are appropriated to them; and when we observe what a severance may exist between the so-called organ of any sense or faculty and the operation of the sense or faculty; and how infallibly ideas and emotion may be generated, and even beliefs created in minds sane and insane, by certain manipulations of the nerves and brain, we see how innocently this phenomenon may be presented in natural somnambulism. Sleepwalkers have been known in many countries, and treated of in medical records by their physicians, who could not only walk, and perform all ordinary acts in the dark as well as in the light, but who went on writing or reading without interruption though an opaque substance--a book or a slate--was interposed, and would dot the _i's_ and cross the _t's_ with unconscious correctness without any use of their eyes. There is a wide field of inquiry open in this direction, now that the study of the nervous system has been begun, however minute is the advance as yet. IMPORTANCE OF THE SUBJECT. It is needless to dwell on the objection made to the rising hopefulness in regard to the study of Man, and the mysteries of his nature. Between the multitude who have still no notion of any alternative supposition to that of possession or inspiration by spirits, or, at least, intercourse with such beings, and others who fear "Materialism" if too close an attention is paid to the interaction of the mind and the nerves, and those who always shrink from new notions in matters so interesting, and those who fear that religion may be implicated in any slight shown to angel or devil, and those who will not see or hear any evidence whatever which lies in a direction opposite to their prejudices, we are not likely to get on too fast. But neither can the injury lapse under neglect. The spectacle presented now is of the same three sorts of people that appear in all satires, in all literatures, since the pursuit of truth in any mode or direction became a recognized object anywhere and under any conditions. Leaving out of view the multitude who are irrelevant to the case, from having no knowledge, and being therefore incapable of an opinion, there is the large company of the superficial and light-minded, who are always injuring the honor and beauty of truth by the levity, the impertinence, the absurdity of the enthusiasm they pretend, and the nonsense they talk about "some new thing." No period of society has been more familiar with that class and its mischief-making than our own. There is the other large class of the cotemporaries of any discovery or special advance, who, when they can absent themselves from the scene no longer, look and listen, and bend all their efforts to hold their ground of life-long opinion, usually succeeding so far as to escape any direct admission that more is known than when they were born. These are no ultimate hindrance. When Harvey died, no physician in Europe above the age of forty believed in the circulation of the blood; but the truth was perfectly safe; and so it will be with the case of the psychological relations of the nervous system when the present course of investigation has sustained a clearer verification and further advance. On this point we have the sayings of two truth-seekers, wise in quality of intellect, impartial and dispassionate in temper, and fearless in the pursuit of their aims. The late Prince Consort is vividly remembered for the characteristic saying which spread rapidly over the country, that he could not understand the conduct of the medical profession in England in leaving the phenomena of mesmerism to the observation of unqualified persons, instead of undertaking an inquiry which was certainly their proper business, in proportion as they professed to pursue _science_. The other authority we refer to is the late Mr. Hallam. A letter of his lies before us from which we quote a passage, familiar in its substance, doubtless, to his personal friends, to whom he always avowed the view which it presents, and well worthy of note to such readers as may not be aware of the observation and thought he devoted to the phenomena of mesmerism during the last quarter-century of his long life. "It appears to me probable that the various phenomena of mesmerism, together with others, independent of mesmerism properly so called, which have lately [the date is 1844] been brought to light, are fragments of some general law of nature which we are not yet able to deduce from them, merely because they are destitute of visible connection--the links being hitherto wanting which are to display the entire harmony of effects proceeding from a single cause." [Persons curious to know what has been developed in this class of studies may find the same in a work published at this office, entitled THE LIBRARY OF MESMERISM AND PSYCHOLOGY--comprising the Philosophy of Mesmerism, Clairvoyance, and Mental Electricity; Fascination, or the Power of Charming; The Macrocosm, or the World of Sense; Electrical Psychology, or the Doctrine of Impressions; The Science of the Soul, treated Physiologically and Philosophically. Complete in one illustrated volume. Price, $4.] What room is there not for hopefulness when we compare such an observation as this with Mr. Parris' dogmatical exposition of Satan's dealings with men! or when we contrast the calm and cheerful tone of the philosopher with the stubborn wrath of Chief Justice Stoughton, and with the penitential laments of Judge Sewall! We might contrast it also with the wild exultation of those of the Spiritualists of our own day who can form no conception of the modesty and patience requisite for the sincere search for truth, and who, once finding themselves surrounded by facts and appearances new and strange, assume that they have discovered a bridge over the bottomless "gulf beyond which lies the spirit-land," and wander henceforth in a fools' paradise, despising and pitying all who are less rash, ignorant, and presumptuous than themselves. It is this company of fanatics--the first of the three classes we spoke of--which is partly answerable for the backwardness of the second; but the blame does not rest exclusively in one quarter. There is an indolence in the medical class which is the commonest reproach against them in every age of scientific activity, and which has recently been heroically avowed and denounced in a public address by no less a member of the profession than Sir Thomas Watson.[1] There is a conservative reluctance to change of view or of procedure. There is also a lack of moral courage, by no means surprising in an order of men whose lives are spent in charming away troubles, and easing pains and cares, and "making things pleasant"--by no means surprising, we admit, but exceedingly unfavorable to the acknowledgment of phenomena that are strange and facts that are unintelligible. [1] Address on the Present State of Therapeutics. Delivered at the opening meeting of the Clinical Society of London, January 10, 1868. By Sir Thomas Watson, Bart., M.D. This brings us to the third class--the very small number of persons who are, in the matter of human progress, the salt of the earth; the few who can endure to see without understanding, to hear without immediately believing or disbelieving, to learn what they can, without any consideration of what figure they themselves shall make in the transaction; and even to be unable to reconcile the new phenomena with their own prior experience or conceptions. There is no need to describe how rare this class must necessarily be, for every one who has eyes sees how near the passions and the prejudices of the human being lie to each other. These are the few who unite the two great virtues of earnestly studying the facts, and keeping their temper, composure and cheerfulness through whatever perplexity their inquiry may involve. It is remarkable that while the world is echoing all round and incessantly with the praise of the life of the man spent in following truth wherever it may lead, the world is always resounding also with the angry passions of men who resent all opinions which are not their own, and denounce with fury or with malice any countenance given to mere proposals to inquire in certain directions which they think proper to reprobate. Not only was it horrible blasphemy in Galileo to think as he did of the motion of the earth, but in his friends to look through his glass at the stars. This Salem story is indeed shocking in every view--to our pride as rational beings, to our sympathy as human beings, to our faith as Christians, to our complacency as children of the Reformation. It is so shocking that some of us may regret that the details have been revived with such an abundance of evidence. But this is no matter of regret, but rather of congratulation, if we have not outgrown the need of admonition from the past. How does that consideration stand? At the end of nearly three centuries we find ourselves relieved of a heavy burden of fear and care about the perpetual and unbounded malice of Satan and his agents. Witchcraft has ceased to be one of the gravest curses of the human lot. We have parted with one after another of the fetish or conjectural persuasions about our relations with the world of spirit or mind, regarded as in direct opposition to the world of matter. By a succession of discoveries we have been led to an essentially different view of life and thought from any dreamed of before the new birth of science; and at this day, and in our own metropolis, we have Sir Henry Holland telling us how certain treatment of this or that department of the nervous system will generate this or that state of belief and experience, as well as sensation. We have Dr. Carpenter disclosing facts of incalculable significance about brain-action without consciousness, and other vital mysteries. We have Dr. Maudsley showing, in the cells of the lunatic asylum, not only the very realm of Satan, as our fathers would have thought, but the discovery that it is not Satan, after all, that makes the havoc, but our own ignorance which has seduced us into a blasphemous superstition, instead of inciting us to the study of ourselves. And these are not all our teachers. Amid the conflict of phenomena of the human mind and body, we have arrived now at the express controversy of Psychology against Physiology. Beyond the mere statement of the fact we have scarcely advanced a step. The first can not be, with any accuracy, called a science at all, and the other is in little more than a rudimentary state; but it is no small gain to have arrived at some conception of the nature of the problem set before us, and at some liberty of hypothesis as to its conditions. In brief, and in the plainest terms, while there is still a multitude deluding and disporting itself with a false hypothesis about certain mysteries of the human mind, and claiming to have explained the marvels of Spiritualism by making an objective world of their own subjective experience, the scientific physiologists [those especially who are true phrenologists] are proceeding, by observation and experiment, to penetrate more and more secrets of our intellectual and moral life. THE PLANCHETTE MYSTERY. WHAT PLANCHETTE IS AND DOES. This little gyrating tripod is proving itself to be something more than a nine days' wonder. It is finding its way into thousands of families in all parts of the land. Lawyers, physicians, politicians, philosophers, and even clergymen, have watched eagerly its strange antics, and listened with rapt attention to its mystic oracles. Mrs. Jones demands of it where Jones spends his evenings; the inquisitive of both sexes are soliciting it to "tell their fortunes;" speculators are invoking its aid in making sharp bargains, and it is said that even sagacious brokers in Wall Street are often found listening to its vaticinations as to the price of stocks on a given future day. To all kinds of inquiries answers are given, intelligible at least, if not always true. A wonderful jumble of mental and moral possibilities is this little piece of dead matter, now giving utterance to childish drivel, now bandying jokes and badinage, now stirring the conscience by unexceptionably Christian admonitions, and now uttering the baldest infidelity or the most shocking profanity; and often discoursing gravely on science, philosophy, or theology. It is true that Planchette seldom assumes this variety of theme and diction under the hands of the same individual, but, in general, manifests a peculiar facility of adapting its discourse to the character of its associates. Reader, with your sanction, we will seek a little further acquaintance with this new wonder. [Illustration: THE PLANCHETTE.] The word "Planchette" is French, and simply signifies a _little board_. It is usually made in the shape of a heart, about seven inches long and six inches wide at the widest part, but we suppose that any other shape and convenient size would answer as well. Under the two corners of the widest end are fixed two little castors or pantograph wheels, admitting of easy motion in all horizontal directions; and in a hole, pierced through the narrow end, is fixed, upright, a lead pencil, which forms the third foot of the tripod. If this little instrument be placed upon a sheet of printing paper, and the fingers of one or more persons be laid lightly upon it, after quietly waiting a short time for the connection or _rapport_ to become established, the board, if conditions are favorable, will begin to move, carrying the fingers with it. It will move for about one person in every three or four; and sometimes it will move with the hands of two or three persons in contact with it, when it will not move for either one of the persons singly. At the first trial, from a few seconds to twenty minutes may be required to establish the motion; but at subsequent trials it will move almost immediately. The first movements are usually indefinite or in circles but as soon as some control of the motion is established, it will begin to write--at first, perhaps, in mere monosyllables, "Yes," and "No," in answer to leading questions, but afterward freely writing whole sentences, and even pages. For me alone, the instrument will not move; for myself and wife it moves slightly, but its writing is mostly in monosyllables. With my daughter's hands upon it, it writes more freely, frequently giving, correctly, the names of persons present whom she may not know, and also the names of their friends, living or dead, with other and similar tests. Its conversations with her are grave or gay, much according to the state of her own mind at the time; and when frivolous questions are asked, it almost always returns answers either frivolous or, I am sorry to say it, a trifle wicked. For example, she on one occasion said to it: "Planchette, where did you get your education?" To her horror, it instantly wrote: "In h--l," without, however, being so fastidious as to omit the letters of the word here left out. On another occasion, after receiving from it responses to some trival questions, she said to it: "Planchette, now write something of your own accord without our prompting." But instead of writing words and sentences as was expected, it immediately traced out the rude figure of a man, such as school children sometimes make upon their slates. After finishing the outlines--face, neck, arms, legs, etc., it swung around and brought the point of the pencil to the proper position for the eye, which it carefully marked in, and then proceeded to pencil out the hair. On finishing this operation, it wrote under the figure the name of a young man concerning whom my daughter's companions are in the habit of teasing her. My wife once said to it: "Planchette, write the name of the article I am thinking of." She was thinking of a finger ring, on which her eye had rested a moment before. The operator, of course, knew nothing of this, and my wife expected either that the experiment would fail, or else that the letters R-i-n-g would be traced. But instead of that, the instrument moved, very slowly, and, as it were, deliberately, and traced an apparently _exact circle_ on the paper, of about the size of the finger ring she had in her mind. "Will you try that over again?" said she, when a similar circle was traced, in a similar manner, but more promptly. During this experiment, one of my wife's hands, in addition to my daughter's, was resting lightly upon the board; but if the moving force had been supplied by her, either consciously or unconsciously, the motion would evidently have taken the direction of her thought, which was that of writing the letters of the word, instead of a direction unthought of. While Planchette, in her intercourse with me, has failed to distinguish herself either as a preacher or a philosopher, I regret to say that she has not proved herself a much more successful prophet. While the recent contest for the United States Senatorship from the State of New York was pending, I said to my little oracular friend: "Planchette, will you give me a test?" "Yes." "Do you know who will be the next U. S. Senator from this State?" "Yes." "Please write the name of the person who will be chosen." "_Mr. Sutton_," was written. Said I, "I have not the pleasure of knowing that gentleman; please tell me where he resides." _Ans._ "In Washington." I do not relate this to disturb the happy dreams of the Hon. Reuben E. Fenton by suggesting any dire contingencies that may yet happen to mar the prospect before him. In justice to my little friend, however, I must not omit to state that in respect to questions as to the kind of weather we shall have on the morrow? will such person go, or such a one come? or shall I see, or do this, that, or the other thing? its responses have been generally correct. To rush to a conclusion respecting the _rationale_ of so mysterious a phenomenon, under the sole guidance of an experience which has been so limited as my own, would betray an amount of egoism and heedlessness with which I am unwilling to be chargeable; and my readers will now be introduced to some experiences of others. A friend of mine, Mr. C., residing in Jersey City, with whom I have almost daily intercourse, and whose testimony is entirely trustworthy, relates the following: Some five or six months ago he purchased a Planchette, brought it home, and placed it in the hands of Mrs. B., a widow, who was then visiting his family. Mrs. B. had never tried or witnessed any experiments with Planchette, and was incredulous as to her power to evoke any movements from it. She, however, placed her hands upon it, as directed, and to her surprise it soon began to move, and wrote for its first words: "Take care!" "Of what must I take care?" she inquired. "Of your money." "Where?" "In Kentucky." My friend states that Mrs. B.'s husband had died in Albany about two years previous, bequeathing to her ten thousand dollars, which sum she had loaned to a gentleman in Louisville, Ky., to invest in the drug business, on condition that she and he were to share the profits; and up to this time the thought had not occurred to her that her money was not perfectly safe. At this point she inquired: "Who is this that is giving this caution?" "B---- W----." (The name of a friend of hers who had died at Cairo, Ill., some six years before.) Mrs. B. "Why! is my money in jeopardy?" Planchette. "Yes, and needs prompt attention." My friend C. here asked: "Ought she to go to Kentucky and attend to the matter?" "Yes." So strange and unexpected was this whole communication, and so independent of the suggestions of her own mind, that she was not a little impressed by it, and thought it would at least be safe for her to make a journey to Louisville and ascertain if the facts were as represented. But she had at the time no ready money to pay her traveling expenses, and not knowing how she could get the money, she asked: "When shall I be able to go?" "In two weeks from to-day," was the reply. She thought over the matter, and the next day applied to a friend of hers, a Mr. W., in Nassau Street, who promised to lend her the money by the next Tuesday or Wednesday. (It was on Thursday that the interview with Planchette occurred.) She came home and remarked to my friend: "Well, Planchette has told one lie, anyhow; it said I would start for Louisville _two weeks_ from that day. Mr. W. is going to lend me the money, and I shall start by _next_ Thursday, only _one_ week from that time." But on the next Tuesday morning she received a note from Mr. W. expressing regret that circumstances had occurred which would render it impossible for him to let her have the money. She immediately sought, and soon found, another person by whom she was promised the money still in time to enable her to start a couple of days before the expiration of the two weeks--thus still, as she supposed, enabling her to prove Planchette to be wrong in at least that particular. But from circumstances unnecessary to detail, the money did not come until Wednesday, the day before the expiration of the two weeks. She then prepared herself to start the next _morning_; but through a blunder of the expressman in carrying her trunk to the wrong depot, she was detained till the five o'clock P.M. train, when she started, just two weeks, _to the hour_, from the time the prediction was given. Arriving in Louisville, she learned that her friend had become involved in consequence of having made a number of bad sales for large amounts, and had actually gone into bankruptcy--reserving, however, for the security of her debt, a number of lots of ground, which his creditors were trying to get hold of. She thus arrived not a moment too soon to save herself, which she will probably do, in good part, at least, if not wholly--though the affair is still unsettled. Since this article was commenced, the following fact has been furnished me from a reliable source. It is offered not only for the test which it involves, but also to illustrate the remarkable faculty which Planchette sometimes manifests, of calling things by their right names. A lady well known to the community, but whose name I have not permission to disclose, recently received from Planchette, writing under her own hands, a communication so remarkable that she was induced to ask for the name of the intelligence that wrote it. In answer to her request, the name of the late Col. Baker, who gallantly fell at Ball's Bluff, was given, in a perfect _fac-simile_ of his handwriting. She said to him: "For a further test, will you be kind enough to tell me where I last saw you?" She expected him to mention the place and occasion of their last interview when she had invited him to her house to tea; but Planchette wrote: "_In the hall of thieves_." "In the hall of thieves," said the lady; "what on earth can be the meaning of that? O! I remember that after he was killed, his body was brought on here and laid in the City Hall, and there I saw him." THE PRESS ON PLANCHETTE. In Planchette, public journalists and pamphleteers seem to have caught the "What is it?" in a new shape, and great has been the expenditure of printer's ink in the way of narratives, queries, and speculations upon the subject. There are now lying before me the following publications and articles, in which the Planchette phenomena are noticed and discussed,--from which we propose to cull and condense such statements of fact as appear to possess most intrinsic interest, and promise most aid in the solution of the mysteries. Afterward we shall discuss the different theories of these writers, and also some other theories that have been propounded. "PLANCHETTE'S DIARY," edited by Kate Field, is an entertaining pamphlet, consisting of details in the author's experience, with little or no speculation as to the origin or laws of the phenomena. The author herself was the principal medium of the communications, but she occasionally introduces experiences of others. The pamphlet serves to put one on familiar and companionable terms with the invisible source of intelligence, whatever that may be, illustrating the leading peculiarities of the phenomena, giving some tests of an outside directing influence more or less striking, and candidly recording the failures of test answers which were mixed up with the successes. We extract two or three specimens: "May 26th--Evening. Our trio was reinforced by Mr. B., a clever young lawyer, who regarded Planchette with no favorable eye--had no faith whatever in 'Spiritualism,' and maintained that for his part he thought it quite as sensible, if not more so, to attribute unknown phenomena to white rabbits as to spirits.... Planchette addressed herself to Mr. B. thus: 'You do not think that I am a spirit. I tell you that I am. If I am not an intelligence, in the name of common sense what am I? If you fancy I am white rabbits, then all I have to say is, that white rabbits are a deal cleverer than they have the credit of being among natural historians.' Later, doubt was thrown upon the possibility of getting mental questions answered, and Planchette retorted: 'Do you fancy for one moment that I don't know the workings of your brain? That is not the difficulty. It is the impossibility--almost--of making two diametrically opposed magnetisms unite.' After this rebuke, Mr. B. asked a mental question, and received the following answer: 'I am impelled to say that if you will persevere in these investigations, you may be placed _en rapport_ with your wife, who would undoubtedly communicate with you. If you have any faith in the immortality of the soul, you can have no doubt of the possibility of spiritual influences being brought to bear upon mortals. It is no new thing. Ever since the world began, this power has been exerted in one way or another; and if you pretend to put any faith in the Bible, you surely must credit the possibility of establishing this subtile connection between man and so-called angels.' This communication was glibly written until within eleven words of the conclusion, when Planchette stopped, and I asked if she had finished. 'No,' she replied. 'Then why don't you go on?' I continued. '_I_ can write faster than this.' Planchette grew exceeding wroth at this, and dashed off an answer: 'Because, my good gracious! you are not obliged to express yourself through another's brain.' I took it for granted that Planchette had shot very wide of the mark in the supposed response to Mr. B.'s mental query, and hence was not prepared to be told that it was satisfactory, in proof of which Mr. B. wrote beneath it: 'Appropriate answer to my mental question, _Will my deceased wife communicate with me?_--I. A. B.'" "May 28th. At the breakfast-table Mr. G. expressed a great desire to see Planchette perform, and she was brought from her box. Miss W. was also present. After several communications, Miss W. asked a mental question, and Planchette immediately wrote: 'Miss W., that is hardly possible in the present state of the money market; but later, I dare say you will accomplish what you desire to undertake.' _Miss W._ 'Planchette is entirely off the track. My question was, _Can you tell me anything about my nephew?_' _Mr. G._ 'Well, it is certainly very queer. _I_ asked a mental question to which this is to a certain extent an answer.' Mr. G. was seated beside me, thoroughly intent upon Planchette. Miss W. was at a distance, and not in any way _en rapport_ with me. If this phenomenon of answering mental questions be clairvoyance, the situation of these two persons may account for the mixed nature of the answer, beginning with Miss W. and finishing with Mr. G." _Putnam's Monthly Magazine_ for December, 1868, contains an interesting article entitled "_Planchette in a New Character_." What the "new character" is in which it appears, may be learned from the introductory paragraph, as follows: "We, too, have a Planchette, and a Planchette with this signal merit: it disclaims all pretensions to supermundane inspirations; it operates freely--indeed, with extraordinary freedom; it goes at the tap of the drum. The first touch of the operators, no matter under what circumstances it is brought out to reveal its knowledge, sets it in motion. But it brings no communications from any celestial or spiritual sources. Its chirography is generally good, and frequently excellent. Its remarks evince an intelligence often above that of the operators, and its talent at answering or evading difficult questions is admirable. We have no theories about it." It seems, from other passages in the article, that this Planchette disclaims the ability to tell anything that is not contained in the minds of the persons present, although it frequently gives theories in direct contradiction to the opinions of all present, and argues them with great persistence until driven up into a corner. It simply assumes the name of "Planchet," leaving off the feminine termination of the word; and "on being remonstrated with for illiteracy, it defended itself by saying, 'I always was a bad _speler_,'--an orthographical blunder," says the writer, "that no one in the room was capable of making." Although the writer in the paragraph above quoted disclaims all theories on the subject, he does propound a theory, such as it is; but of this we defer our notice until we come to put the several theories that have been offered into the hopper and grind them up together; at which time we will take some further notice of the amusing peculiarities of this writer's Planchette. The _Ladies' Repository_ of November, 1868, contains an article, written by Rev. A. D. Field, entitled "Planchette; or, Spirit-Rapping Made Easy." This writer mentions a number of test questions asked by him of Planchette, the answers to which were all false. Yet he acknowledges that "the mysterious little creature called Planchette is no humbug; that some mysterious will-power causes it to answer questions, and that it is useless to ignore these things, or to laugh at them." The writer submits a theory by which he thinks these mysteries may be explained, in a measure, if not wholly, but this, with others, will be reserved for notice hereafter. _Harper's Monthly Magazine_ for December, 1868, contains an article entitled "_The Confessions of a Reformed Planchettist_." In this article, the writer, no doubt drawing wholly or in part from his imagination, details a series of tricks which he had successfully practiced upon the credulity of others, and concludes by propounding a very sage and charitable theory to account for _all_ Planchette phenomena, on which theory we shall yet have a word to offer. _Hours at Home_, of February, 1869, contains an article, by J. T. Headley, entitled "_Planchette at the Confessional_." In this article, the writer cogently argues the claims of these new phenomena upon the attention of scientific men. He says: "That it [the Planchette] writes things never dreamed of by the operators, is proved by their own testimony and the testimony of others, beyond all contradiction;" and goes so far as to assert that to whatever cause these phenomena may be attributed, "they will seriously affect the whole science of mental philosophy." He relates a number of facts, more or less striking, and propounds a theory in their explanation, to which, with others, we will recur by-and-by. The foregoing are a few of the most noted, among the many less important, lucubrations that have fallen under our notice concerning this interesting subject--enough, however, to indicate the intense public interest which the performances of this little board are exciting. We will now proceed to notice some of the _theories_ that have been advanced for the solution of the mystery. THEORY FIRST--THAT THE BOARD IS MOVED BY THE HANDS THAT REST UPON IT. It is supposed that this movement is made either by design or unconsciously, and that the answers are either the result of adroit guessing, or the expressions of some appropriate thoughts or memories which had been previously slumbering in the minds of the operators, and happen to be awakened at the moment. After detailing his exploits (whether real or imaginary he has left us in doubt) in a successful and sustained course of deception, the writer in _Harper's_ reaches this startling conclusion of the whole matter: "It would only write when I moved it, and then it wrote precisely what I dictated. That persons write 'unconsciously,' I do not believe. As well tell me a man might pick pockets without knowing it. Nor am I at all prepared to believe the assertions of those who declare that they do not move the board. I know what operators will do in such cases; I know the distortion, the disregard of truth which association with this immoral board superinduces." This writer has somewhat the advantage of me. I confess I have no means of coming to the knowledge of the truth but those of careful thought, patient observation, and collection of facts, and deduction from them. But here is a mind that can with one bold dive reach the inner mysteries of the sensible and supersensible world, penetrate the motives and impulses that govern the specific moral acts of men, and disclose at once to us the horrible secret of a conspiracy which, without preconcert, has been entered into by thousands of men, women, and children in all parts of the land, to cheat the rest of the human race--a conspiracy, too, in which certain members of innumerable private families have banded together to play tricks upon their fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters! I feel awed by the overshadowing presence of such a mind--in fact, I do not feel quite _at home_ with him, and therefore most respectfully bow myself out of his presence without further ceremony. As to the hypothesis that the person or persons whose hands are on the board move it _unconsciously_, this is met by the fact that the persons are perfectly awake and in their senses, and are just as conscious of what they are doing or not doing as at any other time. Or if it be morally possible to suppose that they all, invariably, and with one accord, _lie_ when they assert that the board moves without their volition, how is it that the answers which they give to questions, some of them mentally, are in so large a proportion of cases, _appropriate_ answers? How is it, for example, that Planchette, under the hands of my own daughter, has, in numerous cases, given correctly the names of persons whom she had never seen or heard of before, giving also the names of their absent relatives, the places of their residence, etc., all of which were absolutely unknown by every person present except the questioner? A theory propounded by the Rev. Dr. Patton, of Chicago, in an article published in _The Advance_, some time since, may be noticed under this head. He says: "How, then, shall we account for the writing which is performed without any direct volition? Our method refers it to an automatic power of mind separate from conscious volition. * * * Very common is the experience of an automatic power in the pen, by which it finishes a word, or two or three words, after the thoughts have consciously gone on to what is to follow. We infer, then, from ordinary facts known to the habitual penman, that _if a fixed idea is in the mind_ at the time when the nervous and volitional powers are exercised with a pen, it will often express itself spontaneously through the pen, when the mental faculties are at work otherwise. We suppose, then, that Planchette is simply an arrangement by which, through the outstretched arms and fingers, the mind comes into such relation with the delicate movements of the pencil, that its automatic power finds play, and the _ideas present in the mind are transferred unconsciously to paper_." (Italics our own.) That may all be, Doctor, and no marvel about it. That the "fixed idea"--"the ideas _present in the mind_," should be "transferred unconsciously to paper," by means of Planchette, is no more wonderful than that the same thing should be done by the pen, and _without_ the intervention of that little board. But for the benefit of a sorely mystified world, be good enough to tell us how ideas that are _not_ present, and that _never were_ present, in the mind, can be transferred to paper by this automatic power of the mind. Grant that the mind possesses an automatic power to work in _grooves_, as it were, or in a manner in which it has been previously _trained_ to work, as is illustrated by the delicate fingerings of the piano, all correct and skillful to the nicest shade, while the mind of the performer may for the moment be occupied in conversation; but not since the world began has there been an instance in which the mind, acting solely from itself, by "automatic powers" or otherwise, has been able to body forth any idea which was not previously within itself. That Planchette does sometimes write things of which the person or persons under whose hands it moves never had the slightest knowledge or even conception, it would be useless to deny. THEORY SECOND--IT IS ELECTRICITY, OR MAGNETISM. That electricity, or magnetism (a form of the same thing), is the agent of the production of these phenomena, is a theory which, perhaps, has more advocates among the masses than any other. It is the theory urged by Mr. Headley with a great amount of confidence in his article already referred to; and with his arguments, as those of an able and, in some sense, _representative_ writer on this subject, we shall be principally occupied for a few paragraphs. When this theory is offered in seriousness as a final solution of the mystery in question, we are tempted to ask, Who is electricity? what is his mental and moral _status_? and how and where did he get his education? Or if by "electricity" is here simply meant the subtile, imponderable, and _impersonal_ fluid commonly known by that name, then let us ask, Who is at the other end of the wire?--for there must evidently be a _who_ as well as a _what_ in the case. But when the advocates of the electrical theory are brought to their strict definitions, they are compelled to admit that this agent is nothing more than a medium of the power and intelligence that are manifested. Now a medium, which signifies simply a _middle_, distinctly implies two opposite ends or extremes, and as applied in this case, one of those ends or extremes must be the source, and the other the recipient of the power or influence that is transmitted through the medium or middle; and it is an axiom of common sense that no medium can be a perfect medium which has anything to do with the origination or qualification of that which is intended simply to flow through it, or which is not absolutely free from action except as it is acted upon. That there are so-called mediums which refract, pervert, falsify, or totally obliterate the characteristics of that which was intended to be transmitted through them, is not to be denied; but these are by no means perfect or reliable mediums, either in physical or psychic matters. If the little instrument in question, therefore, is, through the medium of electricity or any other agency, brought under perfect control and then driven to write a communication, the force that drives and the intelligence that directs it can not be attributed to the medium itself, but to something behind and beyond it which must embrace _in itself_ all the active powers and qualifications to produce the effect. Now let us see where Mr. Headley gets the active powers and qualifications to produce the phenomena manifested by his Planchette. He shall speak for himself: "That a spirit, good or bad, has anything to do with this piece of board and the tips of children's fingers, is too absurd a supposition to be entertained for a moment. We are driven, therefore, to the conclusion that what is written (by honest operators) has its origin either in the minds of those whose hands are on the instrument, or else it results from communication with other minds through another channel than the outward senses. At all events, on this hypothesis I have been able to explain most of the phenomena I have witnessed. I had, with others, laughed at the stories told about Planchette, when a lady visiting my family from the city brought, as the latest novelty, one for my daughter. Experiments were of course made with it, with very little success, till a young lady came to visit us from the West, whose efforts with those of my son wrought a marvelous change. She was modest and retiring, with a rich brown complexion, large swimming eyes, dark as midnight, and a dreamy expression of countenance, and altogether a temperament that is usually found to possess great magnetic power. My son, on the contrary, is fair, full of animal life, and enjoying everything with the keenest relish. In short, they were as opposite in all respects as two beings could well be. As the phenomena produced by electricity are well known to arise from opposite poles, or differently charged bodies, they would naturally be adapted to the trial of Planchette." Mr. H. now finds the mysterious agency, "electricity," completely unchained, and under the hands of this couple Planchette becomes "very active." Indifferent to its performances at first, he was induced to give it more serious attention by the correct answers given to a couple of questions asked in a joking manner by his wife, concerning some love affairs of his before they were married, and which were known to none present except himself and wife. Of course these answers, being in his wife's mind when she asked the question, were supposed to be "communicated through the agency of electricity or magnetism to the two operators," and the mystery was thus summarily disposed of. But an interest being thus for the first time aroused in Mr. H.'s mind, he proceeds to inquire a little further into the peculiarities of this new phenomenon, and proceeds as follows: "Seeing that Planchette was so familiarly acquainted with my lady friends, I asked it point blank: 'Where is Mary C----?' This was a friend of my early youth and later manhood, who had always seemed to me rather a relative than an acquaintance. To my surprise it answered, 'Nobody knows.' I supposed I knew, because for twenty years she had lived on the Hudson River in summer, and in New York in the winter. 'Is she happy?' I asked. 'Better be dead,' was the reply. 'Why?' 'Unhappy' was written out at once. 'What makes her unhappy?' 'Won't tell.' 'Is she in fault, or others?' 'Partly herself.' I now pushed questions in all shapes, but they were evaded. At last I asked, 'How many brothers has she?' 'One,' was the response. 'That,' said I, 'is false;' but not having heard from the family for several years, I asked again, 'How many _did_ she have?' '_Three._' 'Where are the other two?' I continued. 'Dead.' 'What is the name of the living one?' 'John.' I could not recollect that either of them bore this name, but afterward remembered it was that of the eldest. Now I had no means of ascertaining whether this was all true, but convinced it was not, I began to ask ridiculous and vexatious questions, when the answers showed excessive irritation, and finally it wrote '_Devil_.' I then said: 'Who are you?' 'Brother of the Devil.' 'What is your occupation?' 'Tending fires.' 'What are you going to do with me?' 'Broil you.' 'What for?' 'Wicked.' Now while I was excessively amused at all this, I noticed that the two young operators were greatly agitated, and begged me to stop. I saw at a glance that the very superstitious feeling that I was endeavoring to ridicule away, was creeping over them, and I desisted.... Another day I asked where a certain gentleman was who failed years ago, taking in his fall a considerable amount of my own funds. I said 'Where is Mr. Green?' 'In Brazil.' 'Will he ever pay me anything?' 'Yes.' 'When?' 'Next year.' 'How much.' 'Ten thousand dollars.' Neither of the operators knew anything about this affair, and the answer, 'Brazil,' was so out of the way and unexpected, that all were surprised. Whether the man was there or not, I could not tell, nor did I know if he ever had been there--indeed, the last time I heard from him he was in New York." Now, observing that no conscious or intelligent agency in shaping these answers is assigned to the young persons whose hands were upon the board, and who, it appears, did not know anything of the persons concerning whom the inquiries were made, it would, perhaps, as we desire nothing but a true philosophy on this matter, be worth while to look a little critically at the answers and statements that were given, and the further explanations propounded by Mr. H. For convenience, they may be classified as follows: 1. Answers that were substantially in the interrogator's own mind when he asked the questions. Such were the answers to the questions: "How many brothers _did_ she [Mary C----] have?" "Where did she _formerly_ live?" He tells us that "the pencil slowly wrote out in reply: '_Catkill_,' leaving out the _s_;" and adds: "of course, this place was in my mind, though neither of the young people knew anything about the lady or her residence." 2. Answers which he does not know were in his mind, but supposes they must have been. Thus, in his own language, while commenting on the answers to questions respecting Mary C---- and her brothers: "Nor can I account for the answer '_Unhappy_,' _unless unconsciously to myself_ there passed through my mind that vague fear so common to us all when we inquire about friends of whom we have not heard for years. The death of the two brothers baffled all conjecture _unless I remembered_ that during the war I saw the death of a young man of the same name, and I wondered at the time if it was one of these brothers--whether they had joined the army." (The Italics our own.) So also of Planchette's answers to the questions respecting Mr. Green, locating him in Brazil, and saying that he intended to pay him (Mr. H.) ten thousand dollars next year, while Mr. G. had last been reported to Mr. H. as being in New York, and the latter did not know that he had ever been in Brazil. But Mr. H., after thinking over a certain conversation which he had previously had with Mr. Green respecting a business journey he had made to "_South America_," remarks: "Brazil doubtless often occurred to me--in fact, I was conscious on reflection that I had more frequently located him in that country than in any other. So when the question was put, it would involuntarily flash over me _without my being conscious of it_, 'I wonder if he has gone back to South America, and if his venture is in Brazil?' _Magnetism caught up the flashing thought and put it on paper._" (Italics our own.) Such is his hypothesis to explain an hypothesis! 3. Answers which he not only knows he had not in his mind when the questions were asked, but which were directly _contrary_ to his mind or opinion. Such were answers to several of the questions occurring in the conversation about Mary C----, as, "better be dead;" "unhappy;" fault "partly herself;" has "_one_" brother; which latter statement was so directly contrary to his mind that he even pronounced it "false," until he thought to inquire, "How many _did_ she have?" 4. Answers which were not only not in his mind, but which he directly pronounces "_false_" and thus dismisses them. Such, for instance, is the answer "Nobody knows," to the question "Where is Mary C----?" "That this," says he, "was false, is evident on the very face of it." With this analysis of the leading phenomena cited by Mr. H. before us, lot us look at the wonderful things which "electricity and magnetism" are made to accomplish. I do not dispute that there is such a power of the human mind as that known as clairvoyance. I have had too many proofs of this to doubt it. But I have had equally positive proofs that the development of its phenomena is dependent upon certain necessary conditions, among which are, that the agent of them, in order to be able to reveal the secret thoughts of another, must possess by nature peculiar nervous susceptibilities, enabling his psychic emanations, so to speak, to sympathetically coalesce with those of the person whose thoughts and internal mental states are to be the subject of investigation. But this sympathetic coalescence can not take place where there is the slightest psychic repulsion or antagonism to the clairvoyant on the part of the interrogating party. Moreover, even when all these conditions are present, nothing can be correctly read from the mind of the questioner unless there is on his mind a _clear and distinct definition_ of the matters of which he seeks to be told. But even in class No. 1 of the above series we find that "electricity," hitherto believed to be only an imponderable and impersonal fluid, has, upon Mr. H.'s theory, been able to accomplish the revealment of secret thoughts entirely independent of all these conditions. It is distinctly stated that those young persons whose hands were on the Planchette knew nothing whatever of the matters which formed the several subjects of inquiry; and for aught that is stated to the contrary, they appear to have been perfectly awake and in their normal state. In addition to this, it is to be observed that Mr. Headley here appears in the assumed character of a captious, contentious, and somewhat irritating questioner, which, whether he intended it or not, was entirely the opposite of that harmonious and sympathetic interflow of mental states known in other cases to be necessary to a successful clairvoyant diagnosis of inward thoughts. And yet "electricity" overleaps all these obstacles, seizes facts that occurred many years previous, some of which were known only to Mr. H. and wife, others only to Mr. H. himself, and instantly flashes forth the appropriate answer! Here is science! If there were no other phenomena connected with Planchette, this alone might well challenge the attention of philosophers! But if this is wonderful, what shall we think of the achievements of this same "electricity" and "magnetism" in revealing facts of the second class--facts which the questioner himself did not and does not now _know_ were in his mind, but only _supposes they must have been_? Think of a diffused element of nature, which, from the dawn of creation had been blind and dead, and only passively obedient to certain laws of equilibrium, suddenly assuming intelligence and volition, burrowing into a man's brains, rummaging among ten thousand thoughts, emotions, and experiences stored up in the archives of his memory, and finally coming to the mere fossil of a (_supposed_) experience from which the last vestige of memory-life had departed, and seizing this incident, it moves the little board with an intelligent volition, and lo, the fact stands revealed. And again, what of that spicy colloquy in which Planchette writes the words "devil," "devil's brother," "stir fires," "broil you," etc.? Oh, Mr. H. tells us, "That was owing to the irritation of the mediums, their horror and fright, their superstition, and their repugnance to the questions that were being asked." Curious, is it not? to see "electricity" seizing hold of this irritation, that horror, the other fright, and such and such a superstition, repugnance, and disgust, and, carefully arranging these mental emotions, building them up by a mysterious mason-work into a distinctly defined and sharply pronounced individuality, with a peculiar moral and intellectual character of its own, differing more from each and all of the parties present in the flesh than any one of the latter differed from another! And this individuality, too, putting forth a volition which was not _their_ volition, moving the Planchette which _they_ did not move, making and arranging letters which _they_ did not make and arrange, writing intelligent words and sentences which _they_ did not write, and then causing this creation to assume the name and character of a regularly built "devil"--a character which appears to have been so far from these young persons' minds that they were unwilling to look it in the face, and were sorely afraid of it! Surely, if "electricity" can do all this, then "electricity" itself is the "devil," and the less mankind have to do with it the better. But more wonderful still. It appears that "electricity" can give answers, of which not even the slightest elements previously existed in the mind of the questioner or any of the company, and which were even diametrically _contrary_ to his mind; as in the answers of class No. 3. Here "electricity" swings loose, and, becoming completely independent, commences business on its "own hook." Not only so, but it even goes so far beyond the sphere of Mr. H.'s mind as to _fib_ a little, giving at least two answers which this writer pronounced "false," as noted in class No. 4--thus giving a still more signal display of its independent powers of invention--naughty invention though it was. Seriously, had not friend Headley better employ his fine talents in giving us another clever book or two about "Washington and his Generals," and leave Mr. Planchette, and that more wonderful personage, Mr. Electricity, to take care of themselves? We are obliged here to part company with Mr. H., and pass on for the purpose of having a few words under this same head with the reverend author of "Planchette, or Spirit-Rapping Made Easy," in the _Ladies' Repository_. I find it difficult to get at the idea of this writer, if indeed he himself has any definite idea on the subject. By the title of his article, however, and several expressions that occur in the body of it, he seems to associate the performances of the Planchette with a somewhat extensive class of phenomena, in which spirit-rappings, table-tippings, etc., are included. He says: "Twelve years ago I took pains to study the matter, and at that time I came to conclusions that are every day being proved to be true. I was soon satisfied that as regarded 'trance mediums,' the cause was due to one-third trickery, one-third partial insanity or monomania, and the remainder animal magnetism. I have since learned that opium and hashish (Indian hemp) played an important part. It was proved that young ladies purchased written speeches which they delivered under the influence of hashish." He then goes on to speak of galvanism, magnetism, electricity, animal magnetism, and the odylic force; but, so far as we can see, without proving any necessary connection between these forces or either of them, and the subject which he aims to elucidate. Quoting a former article of his, he continues: "The magnetizer of whom I spoke [an exposer of rappings] threw himself into magnetic connection with the table, and _willed_ it to move hither and thither. The will in this case seemed to be a powerful battery, putting its subject into life. Now I suggest that this power be applied to machinery. We will get us a large propelling wheel, to which we will connect our machinery. We will then engage a company of mediums who shall get into _rapport_ with one wheel, and stand willing the wheel on in its evolutions.... If a table may be made to spin around the room, why may not a wheel be made to turn as well?" The writer certainly deserves credit for this sage suggestion, and a patent for his machine; but whether he will succeed in making it operate satisfactorily without calling into requisition the "monomania," the "hashish," and the "opium," remains to be seen. He then goes on to describe Planchette, and afterward continues: "The mysterious little creature is called Planchette, and is no humbug. And it conforms to all the customs of the old-time tipping-tables. The operator magnetizes Planchette, and by a mysterious will-power causes it to answer questions. Before giving illustrations, we may as well state the laws that seem to govern it. _First._ It will always answer correctly, _if the operator knows the answer_. _Second._ While it will answer other questions, in all the experiments I have ever engaged in, it has never answered correctly. _Third._ If a person standing by, who has strong magnetic powers, asks a question, Planchette will answer. But _in all cases_, in our experiments, some ruling mind must have knowledge of what the answer should be, if a correct answer is returned." In reply to the above, we assert, _First_. That the "operator" does not "magnetize" the board at all, nor does he exercise any "will power" over it, causing it to answer questions; and if he did thus cause it to answer only those questions whose answers are already in his mind, what marvel is there in it, more than there is in my pen being caused by my will-power to trace these words and sentences? _Secondly._ If by his _second_ and _third_ specifications of the supposed "laws" which govern Planchette, he means to imply that it will not tell, _often_ tell, and tell with remarkable correctness, things that were never known or dreamed of by the operator, the questioner, or any one present in visible form, then he simply mistakes, as can be testified by thousands, in the most positive manner. But the great essential question is, not so much whether answers given under such and such circumstances can be _correct_, as whether answers and communications _can be given at all_, which have no origin in the minds of the persons engaged in the experiment, and which must hence be referred to some outside intelligence? The writer under review, after all, acknowledges his incompetency to unravel this subject, by saying: "There are mysteries in Planchette. No one is ready to explain the mysterious connection between the mind and the little machine, but there can no longer be any doubt that these curious phenomena, table-tipping and all, are produced by magnetism and electricity.... It is useless to ignore these things, or to laugh at them. It were better to account for them, and subject the influence to the power of man.... When some scientific man will condescend to toy with Planchette, we shall have the curtain drawn aside behind which the spirits have operated these years, and this calamitous spirit-rapping mania will destroy no longer." One might almost regret that this latter thought did not occur to the writer before he commenced his article, in which case, by a little patient waiting for this ideal and very condescending "scientific man," we might have been spared this diatribe of jumbled electricity, magnetism, will-power, opium, hashish, monomania, and driving wheels. ELECTRICITY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. From much and varied observation and experiment in reference to the performances of Planchette, and of kindred phenomena, now extending over a period of about twenty years, I here record my denial, in the most emphatic manner, that electricity or magnetism, properly so called, has anything to do with the mystery at all, and call for the proof that it has. That a certain psycho-dynamic agency closely allied to, and in some of its modifications perhaps identical with, Reichenbach's "Od," or odylic force, may have some mediatorial part to play in the affair, I do not dispute, nor yet, for the present, do I affirm. But though this agency has sometimes been identified with what, for the want of a better term, has been called "animal magnetism," it has yet to be proved, I believe, that there are any of the properties of the magnet, or of magnetism, about it, even so much as would suffice to attract the most comminuted iron filings. It is remarkable that the assertion or hypothesis that electricity or magnetism is concerned in the production of the phenomena in question, has never yet had an origin in any high scientific authority. This is accounted for by the fact that those who are properly acquainted with this agency, and who have the proper apparatus at their command, can demonstrate the truth or falsity of such a hypothesis with the greatest ease. For an experiment, place your Planchette upon a plate of glass, or some other non-conducting substance. Attach to it a common pith-ball electrometer, and then let your medium place his hands upon the board. If electricity equal to the force even of a small fraction of a grain passes from the medium to the board, the pith ball, to that extent, will be deflected from its position. By means of the _Torsion Balance_ electrometer, invented by Coulomb, the presence of almost the smallest conceivable fraction of a grain of electrical force in your Planchette or your table might be detected; and with these delicate tests within reach, tell us not that the movements in question are caused by electricity till you have _proved_ it positively and beyond all dispute. In the discussion of this electrical theory we have occupied more space than we originally intended, but we have thought it might be for the interest of true science to exhibit, once for all, this ridiculous and yet very popular fallacy, in its true light. THIRD--THE DEVIL THEORY. This theory, which appears to have many advocates, is well set forth in the following excerpts from an article published in the Philadelphia _Universe_, a Catholic organ: "Neither the sight of the eye, nor the touch of the hand, can discover the spring by which Planchette moves. Therefore it is not, in its movements, a toy. It moves--undoubtedly it moves. And how? Intelligently! It answers questions of any kind put to it in any language required. It does this. This can not be done but by intelligence. Well, by what description of intelligence? It can not be supposed that the Divine intelligence is the motive; for how can God be conceived to make such a manifestation of himself as Planchette exhibits? "A corresponding reason cuts off the idea that it is presided over by an angelic intelligence; and it is evident to all that a human mind does not control it. There is but one more character of intelligence--that of evil spirits. Therefore Planchette is moved by the agents of hell.... But why should the devil connect himself with Planchette?... We suppose that the experienced scoundrel is ready to do anything human wickedness may ask him when souls are the price of the condescension. But his reasons for particular manifestations are of small importance here. Facts are facts, and the point is, that Planchette is not a toy, that it is moved by an intelligence, and that the intelligence that moves it is necessarily evil. We would therefore advise all who have a Planchette to build for it a special fire of pitch and brimstone.... No one has a right to consult the enemy of God. They who do so are in danger of becoming worshipers of the devil, and of dwelling with him for ever." This theory has at least the merit of being clear, definite, and easy to be understood, if it is not in all respects convincing. But here we have an exemplification of the old paradox of an irresistible force coming in contact with an immovable body. The Catholic priest tells us that Planchette is _not_ a toy; that it moves by an intelligence and volition that is not human; that its moving and directing power is of the devil. The Rev. Dr. Patton, in his article in the _Advance_ (heretofore referred to), tells us that "It is a philanthropic toy, which may be used to bring to light hidden connections of mind and body, and to refute the assumptions of spiritism;" and the Rev. A. D. Field, in his article in the _Ladies' Repository_, backs up Dr. Patton by saying, that it is "a mere toy," "is no humbug," is of "some use;"--and, concerning the _devil_ theory of the general power which moves it and other physical bodies, he says: there is "too often the spirit of gentleness to make the theory acceptable." The "immovable body" here, is the authority of the Catholic priest; the "irresistible force" is the authority of our clerical brethren representing Protestantism; and after this fair impingement of the latter upon the former, we shall, perhaps, have to adopt a compromise solution of the problem, by saying that the "immovable body" has been moved _a little_, and that the "irresistible force" has been resisted _some_. But this _devil_ theory, if what the Bible teaches us concerning that personage is true, is encumbered with other difficulties; and the first of these is, that the devil, however wicked, is not a _fool_. If he should set a trap for human souls, he would not be so stupid as to tell them there is a trap there. When approaching human beings, he assumes, as the good book tells us, the garb of an angel of light; but it is not likely that he would ever say he is the devil, as Planchette sometimes does--at least until he felt quite sure of his prey. And again, when, in a case slightly parallel with cases sometimes involved in the question in hand, the captious Pharisees accused the Saviour of men of casting out devils by Beelzebub the prince of devils, he reminded them that a house or a kingdom divided against itself can not stand. Now Planchette, I admit, is not always a saint--in fact, she sometimes talks and acts very naughtily as well as foolishly; yet at other times, when a better _spirit_ takes possession of her, she is gentle, loving, well disposed, and does certainly give most excellent advice,--advice which could not be heeded without detriment to the devil's kingdom, and which, if universally followed, would work its overthrow entirely. It is inconceivable that Satan would thus tear down with one hand what he builds up with another. But just at this point I wish to say, I think there is need of great caution in consulting Planchette on matters of a weighty or serious nature, lest one should extort from her mere _confirmations_ of his own errors, either in doctrine or practice; and that nothing should in any case be accepted from it that is repugnant to the established principles of the Christian religion. But we are after the _science_ of the thing now, and for the present that is our only question--a question, however, which the devil theory, as will appear from the foregoing, does not seem fully to answer. THEORY OF A FLOATING, AMBIENT MENTALITY. It is supposed by those who hold this theory, or rather hypothesis, that the assumed floating, ambient mentality is an aggregate emanation from the minds of those present in the circle; that this mentality is clothed, by some mysterious process, with a force analogous to what it possesses in the living organism, by which force it is enabled, under certain conditions, to move physical bodies and write or otherwise express its thoughts; and that in its expression of the combined intelligence of the circle, it generally follows the strongest mind, or the mind that is otherwise best qualified or conditioned to give current to the thought. Although the writer of the interesting article, entitled "_Planchette in a New Character_," in _Putnam's Monthly_ for December, 1868, disclaims, at the commencement of his lucubration, all theories on the subject, yet, after collating his facts, he shows a decided leaning to the foregoing theory as the nearest approach to a satisfactory explanation. "Floating, combined intelligence brought to bear upon an inanimate object," "active intellectual principle afloat in the circumambient air," are the expressions he uses as probably affording some light on the subject. This is a thought on which, as concerns its main features, many others have rested, not only in this country but in Europe, especially in England, as I am told by a friend who recently visited several sections of Great Britain where forms of these mysterious phenomena prevail. The first difficulty that stands in the way of this hypothesis is that it supposes a thing which, if true, is quite as mysterious and inexplicable as the mystery which it purports to explain. How is it that an "intellectual principle" can detach itself from an intellectual being, of whose personality it formed the chief ingredient, and become an outside, objective, "floating," and "circumambient" entity, with a capability of thinking, willing, acting, and expressing thought, in which the original possessor of the emanated principle often has no conscious participation? And after you have told us this, then tell us how the "intellectual principle," not only of _one_, but of _several_ persons can emanate from them, become "floating" and "ambient," and then, losing separate identity, _conjoin_ and form _one_ active communicating agent with the powers aforesaid? And after you have removed from these _mere assumptions_ the aspect of physical and moral impossibility, you will have another task to perform, and that is to show us how this emanated, "combined," "floating," "circumambient" intelligence can sometimes assume an individual and seemingly _personal_ character of its own, totally distinct from, and, in some features, even _antagonistic_ to, all the characters in the circle in which the "emanation" is supposed to have its origin? It is not denied now that the answers and communications of Planchette (and of the influence acting through other channels) often do exhibit a controlling influence of the mind of the medium or of other persons in the circle. But no theory should ever be considered as explaining a mystery unless it covers the _whole ground_ of that mystery. Even, therefore, should we consider the theory of the "floating intelligence" of the circle reproducing itself in expression, as explaining that part of the phenomenon which identifies itself with the minds of the circle (which it does not), what shall be said of those cases in which the phenomena exhibit characteristics which are _sui generis_, and can not possibly have been derived from the minds of the circle? That phenomena of the latter class are sometimes exhibited is not only proved by many other facts that might be cited, but is clearly exemplified by this same writer in _Putnam's Magazine_. The intelligence whose performances and communications he relates seems to stand out with a character and individuality as strongly marked and as distinct from any and all in the circle as any one of them was distinct from another. This individuality was first shown by giving its own pet names to the different persons composing the circle--"Flirt," "Clarkey," "Hon. Clarke," "The Angel," and "Sassiness." The young lady designated by the last _sobriquet_, after it had been several times repeated, petitioned to be indicated thereafter "only by the initial 'S,'" which the impertinent scribbler accorded only so far as omitting all the letters except the five S's, so that she was afterward recognized as "S.S.S.S.S." The writer further says: "It is always respectful to 'Hon. Clarke,' and when pressed to state what it thought of him, answered that he was 'a good skipper,' a reputation fairly earned by his capacity for managing a fleet of small boats. But we were not contented with so vague an answer, and our urgent demand for an analysis of his character produced the reply: 'A native crab apple, but spicy and sweet when ripe.' * * * When asked to go on, it wrote: 'Ask me Hon. Clarke's character again, and I will flee to the realms of imperishable woe; or, as Tabitha is here, say I'll pull your nose;' and on being taunted with its incapacity to fulfill the threat, it wrote: 'Metaphorically speaking, of course.' Not satisfied with this rebuff, on another occasion the subject was again pursued, and the answer elicited as follows: 'Yes, but you can't fool me. I said nay once, and when I says nay I means nay.' [A mind of _its own_, then.] More than once it has lapsed into the same misuse of the verb, as: 'I not only believes it, but I knows it;' and again: 'You asks and I answers, because I am here.' * * * "Again, on being remonstrated with for illiteracy, it defended itself by saying: 'I always was a bad speler' (_sic_); an orthographical blunder that no one in the room was capable of making. But on the whole, our Planchette is a scientific and cultivated intelligence, of more than average order, though it may be, at times, slightly inaccurate in orthography, and occasionally quote incorrectly; I must even confess that there are moments when its usual elegance of diction lapses into slang terms and abrupt contradictions. But, after all, though we flatter ourselves that as a family we contain rather more than ordinary intelligence, still it is more than a match for us." Who can fail to perceive, from these quotations and admissions, the marked and distinctive _individuality_ of the intelligence that was here manifested, as being of itself totally fatal to the idea of derivation from the circle? But not only was this intelligence _distinctive_, but in several instances even _antagonistic_ to that existing in the circle, as in the case reported as follows: "Some one desiring to pose this ready writer, asked for its theory of the Gulf Stream; which it announced without hesitation to be 'Turmoil in the water produced by conglomeration of icebergs.' Objection was made that the warmth of the waters of the natural phenomenon rather contradicted this original view of the subject; to which Planchette tritely responded: 'Friction produces heat.' 'But how does friction produce heat in this case?' pursued the questioner. 'Light a match,' was the inconsequent answer--Planchette evidently believing that the pupil was ignorant of first principles. 'But the Gulf Stream flows north; how, then, can the icebergs accumulate at its source?' was the next interrogation; which elicited the contemptuous reply: 'There is as much ice and snow at the south pole as at the north, ignorant Clarkey.' 'But it flows from the Gulf of Mexico?' pursued the undismayed. 'You've got me there, unless it flows underground,' was the cool and unexpected retort; and it wound up by declaring, sensibly, that, after all, 'it is a meeting of the north and south Atlantic currents, which collide, and the eddie (_sic_) runs northward.' [At another time,] on being twice interrogated in regard to a subject, it replied tartly: 'I hate to be asked if I am sure of a fact.'" Now, what could have been this intelligence which thus insisted upon preserving and asserting its individuality so distinctly as to forbid all reasonable hypothesis of a compounded derivation from the minds of the circle, even were such a thing possible? A fairy, perhaps, snugly cuddled up under the board so as to elude observation. Friend "Clarkey," try again, for surely _this_ time you are a little befogged, or else the present writer is _more_ so. "TO DAIMONION" (THE DEMON). There was published, several years ago, by Gould & Lincoln, Boston, a little work entitled: "TO DAIMONION, OR THE SPIRITUAL MEDIUM. _Its nature illustrated by the history of its uniform mysterious manifestations when unduly excited._ By TRAVERSE OLDFIELD." This author deals largely in quotations from ancient writers in illustration of his subject; and as an attempt to explain the mysteries of clairvoyance, trance, second-sight, "spirit-knockings," intelligent movements of physical bodies without hands, etc., his work has claims to our attention which do not usually pertain to the class of works to which it belongs. "_To Daimonion_" (the demon), or the "spiritual medium," he supposes to be the _spiritus mundi_, or the spirit of the universe, which formed so large an element in the cosmological theories of many ancient philosophers; and this, "when unduly excited" (whatever that may mean), he supposes to be the medium, not only of many psychic and apparently preternatural phenomena described in the writings of all previous ages, but also of the similar phenomena of modern times, of which it is now admitted that Planchettism is only one of the more recently developed phases. For some reason, which seemed satisfactory to him, but which we fear he has not made clear or convincing to the mass of his readers, this writer assumes it as more than probable that this _spiritus mundi_--a living essence which surrounds and pervades the world, and even the whole universe--is identical with the "nervous principle" which connects the soul with the body,--in all this unconsciously reaffirming nearly the exact theory first propounded by Mesmer, in explanation of the phenomena of "animal magnetism," so called. Quotations are given from Herodotus, Xenophon, Cicero, Pliny, Galen, and many others, referring to phenomena well known in the times in which these several writers lived, and which he supposes can be explained only on the general hypothesis here set forth; and in the same category of marvels, to be explained in the same way, he places the performances of the snake-charmers, clairvoyants, thought-readers, etc., of modern Egypt and India. This _spiritus mundi_, or "nervous principle," to which he supposes the ancients referred when they spoke of "the demon," is, according to his theory, the medium, or menstruum, by which, under certain conditions of "excitement," the thoughts and potencies of one mind, with its affections, emotions, volitions, etc., flow into another, giving rise to reflex expressions, which, to persons ignorant of this principle, have seemed possible only as the utterances of outside and supermundane intelligences. And as this same _spiritus mundi_, or demon, pervades and connects the mind equally with all _physical_ bodies, in certain _other_ states of "excitement" it moves those physical bodies, or makes sounds upon them, expressing intelligence--that intelligence always being a reflex of the mind of the person who, consciously or unconsciously, served as the exciting agent. Whatever elements of truth this theory, in a _different_ mode of application, might be found to possess, in the form in which it is here presented it is encumbered by two or three difficulties which altogether seem fatal. In the first place, it wears upon its face the appearance of a thing "fixed up" to meet an emergency, and which would never have been thought of except by a mind pressed almost to a state of desperation by the want of a theory to account for a class of facts. Look at it: "The spirit of the world identical with the nervous principle"!--the same, "when unduly _excited_," the medium by which a mind may _unconsciously_ move other minds and organisms, or even dead matter, in the expression of its own thoughts! Where is the shadow of proof? Is it anything more than the sheerest assumption? Then again: even if this mere assumption were admitted for truth, it would not account for that large class of facts referred to in the course of our remarks on the "Electrical theory," unless this _spiritus mundi_, demon, nervous principle, or spiritual medium, is made at once not only the "medium," but the intelligent and designing _source_ of the communication; for, as we have said before, it would be perfectly useless to deny that thoughts are sometimes communicated through the Planchette and similar channels, which positively never had any existence in the minds of any of the persons visibly present. And then, too, in relation to the nature of the demon, or demons: the theory of the ancients, from whose representative minds this writer has quoted, was notoriously quite different from that which he has given. The ancients recognized good demons and evil demons. The demon of Socrates was regarded by him as an invisible, individual intelligence. A legion of demons were in one instance cast out by Christ from the body of a man whom they had infested; we can hardly suppose that these were simply a legion of "nervous principles" or "souls of the world." What those demons were really understood to be in those days, may be learned from a passage in the address of Titus to his army, when encamped before Jerusalem, in which, in order to remove from their minds the fear of death in battle, he says: "For what man of virtue is there who does not know that those souls which are severed from their fleshy bodies in battles by the sword, are received by the ether, that purest of elements, and joined to that company which are placed among the stars; that they become _good demons_ and propitious heroes, and show themselves as such to their posterity afterward?"--_Josephus, Wars of the Jews, B. VI., chap. 1, sec. 5._ Hesiod and many others might be quoted to the same purpose; but let this suffice as to the character and origin of these demons; and it may suffice also for the theory of _To Daimonion_, as to the particular mystery here to be explained. IT IS SOME PRINCIPLE OF NATURE AS YET UNKNOWN. If there is any wisdom in this theory, it is so profound that we "don't see it." It looks very much to us as though this amounted only to the saying that "all we know about the mystery is, that it is _unknown_; all the explanation that we can give of it is, that it is inexplicable; and that the only theory of it is, that it has no theory." Thus it leaves the matter just where it was before, and we should not have deemed this saying worthy of the slightest notice had we not heard and read so much grave discussion on the subject, criticising almost every other theory, and then concluding with the complacent announcement of the writer's or speaker's theory as superior to all others, that "_it is some principle or force of nature as yet unknown_!" THEORY OF THE AGENCY OF DEPARTED SPIRITS. This theory apparently has both merits and difficulties, which at present we can only briefly notice. Among the strong points in its favor, the first and most conspicuous one is, that it accords with what this mysterious intelligence, in all its numerous forms of manifestation, has steadily, against all opposition, persisted in claiming _for itself_, from its first appearance, over twenty years ago, till this day. And singularly enough, it appears as a fact which, perhaps, should be stated as a portion of the history of these phenomena, that years before public attention and investigation were challenged by the first physical manifestation that claimed a spiritual origin, an approaching and general revisitation of departed human spirits was, in several instances, the burden of _remarkable predictions_. I have in my possession a little book, or bound pamphlet, entitled, "A Return of Departed Spirits," and bearing the imprint, "Philadelphia: Published by J. R. Colon, 203½ Chestnut Street, 1843," in which is contained an account of strange phenomena which occurred among the Shakers at New Lebanon, N. Y., during the early part of that year. In the language of the author: "Disembodied spirits began to take possession of the bodies of the brethren and sisters; and thus, by using them as instruments, made themselves known by speaking through the individuals whom they had got into." The writer then goes on to describe what purported to be the visitations of hundreds in that way, from different nations and tribes that had lived on earth in different ages--the consistency of the phenomena being maintained throughout. I have conversed with leading men among the Shakers of the United States concerning this affair, and they tell me that the visitation was not confined to New Lebanon, but extended, more or less, to all the Shaker communities in the United States--not spreading from one to another, but appearing nearly simultaneously in all. They also tell me that the phenomena ceased about as suddenly as they appeared; and that when the brethren were assembled, by previous appointment, to take leave of their spirit-guests, they were exhorted by the latter to treasure up these things in their hearts; to say nothing about them to the world's people, but to wait patiently, and soon they (the spirits) would return, and make their presence known to the world generally. During the interval between the autumn of 1845 and the spring of 1847, a book, wonderful for its inculcations both of truth and error, was dictated in the mesmeric state by an uneducated boy--A. J. Davis--in which the following similar prediction occurs: "It is a truth that spirits commune with one another while one is in the body and the other in the higher spheres--and this, too, when the person in the body is unconscious of the influx, and hence can not be convinced of the fact; and this truth will ere long present itself in the form of a living demonstration. And the world will hail with delight the ushering in of that era when the interiors of men will be opened, and the spiritual communion will be established, such as is now being enjoyed by the inhabitants of Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn."--_Nat. Div. Rev., pp. 675, 676._ Eight months after the book containing this passage was published, and more than a year after the words here quoted were dictated and written, strange rapping sounds were heard in an obscure family in an obscure village in the western part of New York. On investigation, those sounds were found to be connected with intelligence, which, rapping at certain letters of the alphabet as it was called over, spelled sentences, and claimed to be a _spirit_. The phenomena increased, assumed many other forms, extended to other mediums, and rapidly spread, not only all over this country, but over the civilized world. And wherever this intelligence has been interrogated under conditions which _itself_ prescribes for proper answers, its great leading and persistent response to the question, "What are you?" has been, "_We are spirits!_" Candor also compels us to admit that this claim has been perseveringly maintained against the combined opposition of the great mass of intelligent and scientific minds to whom the world has looked for its guidance; and so successfully has it been maintained, that its converts are now numbered by millions, gathered, not from the ranks of the ignorant and superstitious, but consisting mostly of the intelligent and thinking middle classes, and of many persons occupying the highest positions in civil and social life. At first its opponents met it with expressions of utter contempt and cries of "humbug." Many ingenious and scientific persons volunteered their efforts to expose the "trick;" and if they seemed, in some instances, to meet with momentary success in solving the mystery, the next day would bring with it some _new_ form of the phenomenon to which none of their theories would apply. Being finally discouraged by repeated failures to explain the hidden cause of these wonders, they withdrew from the field, and for many years allowed the matter to go by default; and only within the last twelvemonth has investigation of the subject been re-aroused by the introduction into this country of the little instrument called "the Planchette"--an instrument which, to our certain knowledge, was used at least ten years ago in France, and that, too, as a supposed means of communicating with departed spirits. This little board has been welcomed as a "toy" or a "game" into thousands of families, without suspicion of its having the remotest connection with so-called "Spiritualism." The cry has been raised, "Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes," but too late! The Trojan walls are everywhere down; the wooden horse is already dragged into the city with all the armed heroes concealed in its bowels; the battle has commenced, and must be fought out to the bitter end, as best it may be; and in the numerous magazine and newspaper articles that have lately appeared on the subject, we have probably only the beginning of a clash of arms which must terminate one way or another. Should our grave and learned philosophers find themselves overcome by this little three-legged spider, it will be mortifying; but in order to avoid that result, we fear they will have to do better than they have done yet. On the other hand, before the Spiritualists can be allowed to claim the final victory in this contest, they should, it seems to me, be required to answer the following questions in a manner satisfactory to the highest intelligence and the better moral and religious sense of the community: Why is it that "spirits" communicating through your mediums, by Planchette or otherwise, can not relate, plainly and circumstantially, _any_ required incident of their lives, as a man would relate his history to a friend, instead of dealing so much in vague and ambiguous generalities, as they almost always do, and that, too, often in the bad grammar or bad spelling of the medium? Or, as a question allied to this, why is it that what purports to be the _same_ spirit, generally, if not _always_, fails, when trial is made, to identify himself in the _same manner_ through any two different mediums? Or, as another question still allied to the above, why is it that your Websters, Clays, Calhouns, and others, speaking through mediums, so universally give the idea that they have deteriorated in intellect since they passed into the spirit-world? And why is it that so little discourse or writing that possesses real merit, and so much that is mere drivel, has come through your mediums, if _spirits_ are the authors? And why does it so often happen that the spirits--if they _are_ spirits--can not communicate anything except what is already in the mind of the medium, or at least of some other person present? It does not quite answer these questions to say that the medium is "_undeveloped_" unless you explain to us precisely on what principle the undevelopment affects the case. A speaking-trumpet may be "undeveloped"--cracked or wanting in some of its parts, so as to deteriorate the sound made through it; but we should at least expect that a man speaking through it would speak his own thoughts, and not the thoughts of the trumpet. And then, looking at this subject in its _moral_ and _social_ aspects, the question should be answered: Why, on the supposition that these communications really come from immortal spirits, have they made so little progress, during the twenty years that they have been with us, in elevating the moral and social standard of human nature, in making better husbands and wives, parents and children, citizens and philanthropists, in drawing mankind together in harmony and charity, and founding and endowing great institutions for the elevation of the race? Rather may we not ask, in all kindness, why is it that the Spiritualist community has been little more than a Babel from the beginning to the present moment? Or, ascending to the class of themes that come under the head of Religion: Why is it that prayer is so generally ignored, and the worship of God regarded as an unworthy superstition? Why is it that in the diatribes, dissertations, and speeches of those who profess to act under the sanction of the "spirits," we have a reproduction of so much of the slang and ribaldry of the infidels of the last century, and of the German Rationalism of the present, which is now being rejected by the Germans themselves? And why is it that in their references to the great lights of the world, we so often have Confucius, Jesus Christ, and William Shakspeare jumbled up into indistinguishability? I do not say that all these questions may not be answered consistently with the claims of the spiritual hypothesis, but I _do_ say that before our Spiritualist friends can have a _right_ to expect the better portion of mankind to drink down this draft of philosophy which they have mixed, they must at least satisfy them that there is _no poison_ in it. Having thus exhibited these several theories, and, to an extent, discussed them _pro et contra_, it is but fair that we should now ask Planchette--using that name in a liberal sense--what is _her_ theory of the whole matter? Perhaps it may be said that after raising this world of curiosity and doubt in the public mind as to its own origin and true nature, we have some semblance of a right to hold this mysterious intelligence responsible for a solution of the difficulty it has created; and perhaps if we are a little skillful in putting our questions, and occasionally call in the aid of Planchette's brothers and sisters, and other members of this mysterious family, we may obtain some satisfactory results. PLANCHETTE'S OWN THEORY. Planchette is intelligent; she can answer questions, and often answer them correctly, too. On what class of subjects, then, might she be expected to give answers more generally correct than those which relate to herself, especially if the questions be asked in a proper spirit, and under such conditions as are claimed to be requisite for correct responses? Following the suggestion of this thought, the original plan of this essay has been somewhat modified, and a careful consultation instituted, of which I here submit the results: _Inquirer._ Planchette, excuse me if I now treat you as one on whom a little responsibility is supposed to rest. An exciter of curiosity, if as intelligent as you appear to be, should be able to satisfy curiosity; and a creator of doubts may be presumed to have some ability to solve doubts. May I not, then, expect from _you_ a solution of the mysteries which have thus far enveloped you? _Planchette._ That will depend much upon the spirit in which you may interrogate me, the pertinence of your questions, and your capacity to interpret the answers. If you propose a serious and careful consultation for really useful purposes, there is another thing which you should understand in the commencement. It is that, owing to conditions and laws which may yet be explained to you, I shall be compelled to use your own mind as a scaffolding, so to speak, on which to stand to pass you down the truths you may seek, and which are above the reach of your own mind alone. Keep your mind unperturbed, then, as well as intent upon your object, or I can do but little for you. _I._ The question which stands as basic to all others which I wish to ask is, What is the nature of this power, intelligence, and will that communicates with us in this mysterious manner? _P._ It is the reduplication of your own mental state; it is a spirit; it is the whole spiritual world; it is God--one or all, according to your condition and the form and aspect in which you are able to receive the communication. _I._ That is covering rather too much ground for a beginning. For definiteness, suppose we take one of those points at a time. In saying, "It is a spirit," do you mean that you yourself, the immediate communicating agent, are an intelligence outside of, and separate from, myself, and that that intelligence is the spirit or soul of a man who once occupied a physical body, as I now do? _P._ That is what I assert--only in reaffirmation of what the world, in explanation of similar phenomena, has been told a thousand times before. _I._ Excuse me if I should question you a little closely on this point. There are grave difficulties in the way of an acceptance of this theory. The first of these is the _prima facie_ absurdity of the idea. _P._ Absurdity! How so? _I._ It is so contrary to our ordinary course of thought; contrary, I may say, to our instincts; contrary to what the human faculties would naturally expect; contrary to the general experience of the world up to this time. In fact, the more highly educated minds of the world have long agreed in classing the idea as among the grossest of superstitions. _P._ If you would, in place of each one of these assertions, affirm directly the contrary, you would come much nearer the truth. It is certain that the highest minds, as well as the lowest, of all ages and nations, with only such exceptions as prove rather than disprove the rule, have confidently believed in the occasional interposition of spirits in mundane affairs. True, there are in this age many of the class which you call the "more highly educated minds," who, spoiled by reasonings merely sensual, and hence necessarily sophistical, do not admit such an idea; but do not even these generally admit that there is an invisible world of spirits? _I._ Most of them do; all professing Christians do. I do, certainly. _P._ Let me test their consistency, and yours, then, by asking, Do they and you hold that one and the same God made all worlds, both natural and spiritual, and all things in them? _I._ Of course they do; how otherwise? _P._ Then, seeing that you acknowledge the unity of the Cause of all worlds and all things in them, you must acknowledge a certain union of all these in one universal system as the offspring of that one Cause, must you not? _I._ Yes; I suppose the totality of things, natural and spiritual, must be acknowledged as forming, in some sense, one united system, of diverse but mutually correlated parts. _P._ Please tell me, then, how there can be any united system in which the component parts, divisions, and subdivisions, down even to the most minute, are not each, necessarily and always, in communication with all the others, either immediately or mediately? _I._ I see the point, and acknowledge it is ingeniously made; but do you not see that the argument fails to meet the whole difficulty? _P._ What I do see is, that in admitting a connection of any kind, whether mediate or immediate, between the natural and spiritual worlds, you admit that a communication between the two worlds--hence between all things of one and all things of the other; hence between the intelligent inhabitants of one and those of the other--is logically not only possible but probable, not to say certain; and in this admission you yield the point under immediate discussion, and virtually concede that the idea of spirit-communication is not only _not absurd_, but is, indeed, among the most reasonable of things, to which ignorance and materialistic prejudice alone have given the aspect of absurdity. _I._ Well, there is something in that which looks like argument, I must admit. _P._ Can you not go a little farther and admit for established fact, proved by the testimony of the Book from which you derive your religious faith, that communications between spirits and mortals have sometimes taken place? _I._ True, but the Bible calls the spirits thus communicating, "familiar spirits," and those who have dealings with them, "witches" and "wizards," and forbids the practice under severe penalties. How does that sound to you, my ingenious friend? _P._ The way you put it, it sounds as though you did not quite understand the full scope of my question; but no matter, since it is at once a proof and an acknowledgment on your part that spirits have communicated with mortals--the essential point in dispute, which when once admitted will render further reasonings more plain. Let me ask you, however, was not the practice of consulting familiar spirits that is forbidden in the Bible, a practice that was common among the heathen nations of those times? _I._ It was, and is spoken of as such in several passages. _P._ Did not the heathens consult familiar spirits as petty divinities, or gods, and as such, follow their sayings and commands implicitly? and would not the Israelites to whom the Old Testament was addressed have violated the first command in the decalogue by adopting this practice? and was not that the reason, and the only reason, why the practice was forbidden? _I._ To each of those questions I answer, Yes, certainly. _P._ Do the Old or New Testament writings anywhere command us to abstain from all intercourse with spirits?--or from any intercourse which would not be a violation of the command, "Thou shalt have no other Gods before me?" _I._ Really I do not know that the Bible contains any such command. _P._ Do you not know, on the contrary, that spirits other than those called "familiar spirits," often did communicate, and with apparently good and legitimate purposes, too, with men whose names are mentioned in the Bible? _I._ Well, I must in candor say that there were some cases of that kind. _P._ May you not, then, from all this learn a rule which will always be a safe guide to you in respect to the matters under discussion? I submit for your consideration, that that rule is, "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." But even if the "strangers" that may come to you, either of your own world or the spirit-world, should prove to be "angels," do not follow them implicitly, or in an unreasoning manner, nor worship them as gods, for in so doing you would render yourself amenable to the law against having dealings with "familiar spirits." _I._ I must admit that your remarks throw a somewhat new light on the subject, and I do not know that I can dispute what you say. But even admitting all your strong points thus far, the spirit-theory of Planchettism and other and kindred modern wonders remains encumbered with a mass of difficulties which it seems to me must be removed before it can be considered as having much claim to the credence of good and rational minds. On some of these points I propose now to question you somewhat closely, and shall hope that you will bear with me in the same patience and candor which you have thus far manifested. _P._ Ask your questions, and I shall answer them to the best of my ability. THE RATIONAL DIFFICULTY. _I._ The difficulties, as they appear to me, are of a threefold character--_Rational_, _Moral_, and _Religious_. I begin with the first, the Rational Difficulty. And for a point to start from, let me ask, Is it true, as generally held, that when a man becomes disencumbered of the clogs and hinderances of the flesh, and passes into the spirit-world--especially into the realms of the just--his intellect becomes more clear and comprehensive? _P._ That is true, as a general rule. _I._ How is it, then, that in returning to communicate with us mortals, the alleged spirits of men who were great and wise while living on the earth, almost uniformly appear to have _degenerated_ as to their mental faculties, being seldom, if ever, able to produce anything above mediocrity? And why is it that the speaking and writing purporting to come from spirits, are so generally in the bad grammar, bad spelling, and other distinctive peculiarities of the style of the medium, and so often express precisely what the medium knows, imagines, or surmises, and nothing more? _P._ That your questions have a certain degree of pertinence, I must admit; but in making this estimate of the intelligence purporting to come from the spiritual world, have you not ignored some things which candor should have compelled you to take into the account? Think for a moment. _I._ Well, perhaps I ought to have made an exception in your own favor. Your communication with me thus far has, I must admit, been characterized by a remarkable breadth and depth of intelligence, as well as ingenuity of argument. _P._ And what, too, of the style and merits of the communications purporting to come from spirits to other persons and through other channels--are they not, as an almost universal rule, decidedly superior to anything the medium could produce, unaided by the influence, whatever it may be, which acts upon him? _I._ Perhaps they are; indeed, I must admit I have known many instances of alleged spirit-communications which, though evidently stamped with some of the characteristics of the medium, were quite above the normal capacity of the latter; yet in themselves considered, they were generally beneath the capacity of the _living man_ from whose disembodied spirit they purported to come. _P._ By just so much, then, as the production given through a medium is elevated above the medium's normal capacity, is the influence which acts upon him to be credited with the character of that production. Please make a note of this point gained. And now for the question why these communications should be tinctured with the characteristics of the medium at all; and why spirits can not, as a general rule, communicate to mortals their own normal intelligence, freely and without obstruction, as man communicates with man, or spirit with spirit. But that we may be enabled to make this mystery more clear, we had better attend first to another question which I see you have in your mind--the question as to the potential agent used by spirits in making communications. THE MEDIUM--THE DOCTRINE OF SPHERES. _I._ That is what we are anxious to understand; electricity, magnetism, odylic force, or whatever you may know or believe it to be--give us all the light you can on the subject. _P._ Properly speaking, neither of these, or neither without important qualifications. Preparatory to the true explanation, I will lay the foundation of a new thought in your mind by asking, Do you know of any body or organism in nature--unless, indeed, it be a _dead_ body--which has not something answering to an atmosphere? _I._ It has been said by some astronomers that the moon has no atmosphere; though others, again, have expressed the opinion that she has, indeed, an atmosphere, but a very rare one. _P._ Precisely so; and as might have been expected from the rarity of her atmosphere, she has the smallest amount of cosmic life of any planetary body in the solar system--only enough to admit of the smallest development of vegetable and animal forms. Still, every sun, planet, or other cosmic body in space is generally, and every regularly constituted form connected with that body is specifically, surrounded, and also pervaded, by its own peculiar and characteristic atmosphere; and to this universal rule, minerals, plants, animals, man, and in their own degree even the disembodied men whom you call "spirits," form no exception. _I._ Do you mean to say that man and spirits, and also the lower living forms, are surrounded by a sphere of air or wind like the atmosphere of the earth, but yet no part of that atmosphere? _P._ The atmospheres of other bodies than planets are not air or wind, but in their substances are so different from what you know as the atmospheres of planets as not to have anything specifically in common with them. The specific atmospheres of flowers, and when excited by friction, those also of some metals, and even of stone crystals, are often perceptible to the sense of smell, and are in that way distinguishable not only from the atmosphere of the earth, but also from the atmospheres of each other. But properly speaking, the psychic _aura_ surrounding man and spirits should no longer be called an atmosphere, that is, an _atom-sphere_ or sphere of atoms, but simply a "sphere;" for it is not atomic, that is, material, in its constitution, but is a spiritual substance, and as such extends indefinitely into space, or rather has only an indirect relation to space at all. Nor is the atmosphere, as popularly understood, the only enveloping sphere of the earth, for beyond and pervading it, and pervading also even all solid bodies, is a sublime interplanetary substance called "ether," the vehicle of light, and next approach to spiritual substance; while all bodies, solid, liquid, and gaseous, are also pervaded by electricity. _I._ All that is interesting, but the subject is new to me, and I would like to have some farther illustration. Can you cite me some familiar fact to prove that man is actually surrounded and pervaded by a sphere such as you describe? _P._ I can only say that you are at times conscious of the fact yourself, as all persons are who are possessed of an ordinary degree of psychic sensitiveness. Does not even the silent presence of certain persons, though entire strangers, affect you with an uncomfortable sense of repulsion, perhaps embarrassing your thoughts and speech, while in the presence of others you at once feel perfectly free, easy, at home, and experience even a marked and mysterious sense of congeniality? _I._ That is so; I have often noticed it, but never could account for it. _P._ Farther than this, have you not at times when free from external disturbances, with the mind in a revery of loose thoughts, noticed the abrupt intrusion of the thought of a person altogether out of the line of your previous meditations, and then observed that the same person would come bodily into your presence very shortly afterward? _I._ I have, frequently; the same phenomenon appears to have been noticed by others, and is so common an occurrence as to have given rise to the well-known slang proverb, "Speak of the devil and he will always appear." _P._ Just so; but still further: Have you not personally known of instances, or been credibly informed of them, in which mutually sympathizing friends of highly sensitive organizations were mysteriously and correctly impressed with each other's general conditions, even when long distances apart, and without any external communication? _I._ I have heard and read of many such cases, but could have scarcely believed them had I not had some experience of the kind myself. _P._ There must, then, be here some medium of communication; that medium is evidently not anything cognizable to either of the five outer senses. What, then, can it be but the co-related spheres of the two persons, which I have already told you are not atomic--not material but spiritual, and as such have little relation to space? _I._ That idea, if true, looks to me to be of some importance, and I would like you, if you can, to show me clearly what relation these "spheres," as you call them, have to the spiritual nature of man. _P._ Consider, then, the primal meaning of the word "spirit:" It is derived from the Latin _spiritus_, the basic meaning of which is _breath_, _wind_, air--nearly the same idea that you attach to the word "atmosphere." So the Greek word _pneuma_, also translated "spirit," means precisely the same thing. The same meaning is likewise attached to the Hebrew word _ruach_, also sometimes translated "spirit." Now, carrying out this use of terms, the wind, air, or atmosphere of the earth (including the ether, electricity, and other imponderable elements) is the spirit of the earth;[2] the atmosphere of any other body, great or small, is the spirit of that body; the atmosphere, or rather sphere, being now without atoms, of a man, considered as an intellectual and moral being, is the spirit of that man; the sphere of a disembodied man or soul is the spirit of that man or soul; and so the Infinite and Eternal Sphere of the Deity which pervades and controls all creations both in the spiritual and natural universe, is the Spirit of the Deity, which in the Bible is called the Holy Spirit. [2] Query: Have we here the _spiritus mundi_ of the old philosophers? _I._ Well, those ideas seem singularly consistent with themselves, to say the least, however novel they may appear. But now another point: You have said that atmospheres or spheres surround and pervade all bodies, unless, indeed, they be _dead_ bodies--attributing, as I understand you, a kind of _cosmic_ life to plants, and a mineral life to minerals, as well as a vegetable and animal life respectively to vegetables and animals; do you mean by that to intimate that the sphere is the _effect_ or the _cause_ of the living body? _P._ Of each living material form, the sphere, or at least _some_ sphere, was the cause. Matter, considered simply by itself, is dead, and can only live by the influx of a surrounding sphere or spirit. It may be said at the last synthesis, that the _general_ sphere even of each microscopic monad that is in process of becoming vitalized, as well as of the great nebulous mass that is to form a universe, is the Spirit of the Infinite Deity, which is present with atoms in the degree of atoms, as well as with worlds in the degree of worlds. This Spirit, as it embodies itself in matter, becomes segregated, finited, and individualized, and forms a specific soul, spirit, or sphere by itself, now no longer deific, but always of a nature necessarily corresponding to the peculiar form and condition of the matter in which it becomes embodied. Life, therefore, is not the result of organization, but organization is the result of life, which latter is eternal, never having had a beginning, and never to have an end. Some of your scientific men have recently discovered what they have been pleased to term "the physical basis of life," in a microscopic and faintly vital substance called _protoplasm_, which forms the material foundation of all organic structures, both in the vegetable and animal kingdoms. They have not yet, however, discovered the source from which the life found in this substance comes--which would be plain to them if they understood the doctrine of spheres and influx as I have here given it. _I._ I thank you for this profoundly suggestive thought, even should it prove to be no more than a thought. But please now show us what bearing all this has upon the question more particularly before us--the question as to the medium and process through which this little board is moved, the tables are tipped, people are entranced and made to speak and write, and all these modern wonders are produced--also how and why it is that the alleged spirit-communications are commonly tinctured, more or less, with the peculiar characteristics of the human agents through whom they are given? _P._ You now have some idea of the doctrine of spheres; you will, however, understand that the spheres of created beings, owing to a unity of origin, are universally co-related, and, under proper conditions, can act and react upon each other. You have before had some true notion of the laws of _rapport_, which means relation or correspondence. You will understand, further, that there can be no action between any two things or beings in any department of creation except as they are in _rapport_ or correspondence with each other, and that the action can go no farther than the _rapport_ or correspondence extends. Now, two spirits can always, when it is in divine order, readily communicate with each other, because they can always bring themselves into direct _rapport_ at some one or more points. Though matter is widely discreted from spirit, in that the one is dead and the other is alive, yet there is a certain correspondence between the two, and between the degrees of one and the degrees of the other; and according to this correspondence, relation, or _rapport_, spirit may act upon matter. Thus your spirit, in all its degrees and faculties, is in the closest _rapport_ with all the degrees of matter composing your body, and for this reason alone it is able to move it as it does, which it will no longer be able to do when that _rapport_ is destroyed by what you call death. Through your body it is _en rapport_ with, and is able to act upon, surrounding matter. If, then, you are in a susceptible condition, a spirit can not only get into _rapport_ with your spirit, and through it with your body, and control its motions, or even suspend your own proper action and external consciousness by entrancement, but if you are at the same time _en rapport_ with this little board, it can, through contact of your hands, get into _rapport_ with _that_, and move it without any conscious or volitional agency on your part. Furthermore, under certain favorable conditions, a spirit may, through your sphere and body combined, come into _rapport_ even with the spheres of the ultimate particles of material bodies near you, and thence with the particles and the whole bodies themselves, and may thus, even without contact of your hands, move them or make sounds upon them, as has often been witnessed. Its action, however, as before said, ceases where the _rapport_ ceases; and if communications from really intelligent spirits have sometimes been defective as to the quality of the intelligence manifested, it is because there has been found nothing in the medium which could be brought into _rapport_ or correspondence with the more elevated ideas of the spirit. The spirit, too, in frequent instances, is unable to prevent its energizing influences from being diverted by the reactive power of the medium, into the channels of the imperfect types of thought and expression that are established in his mind, and it is for this simple reason that the communication is, as you say, often tinctured with the peculiarities of the medium, and even sometimes is nothing more than a reproduction of the mental states of the latter, perhaps greatly intensified. _I._ If this theory, so far seemingly very plausible, is really the correct one, it ought to go one step farther, and explain the many disorderly unintelligible rappings, thumpings, throwing of stones, hurling of furniture, etc., which often have occurred in the presence of particular persons, or at particular places.[3] [3] See an article entitled "_A Remarkable Case of Physical Phenomena_," in the _Atlantic Monthly_ for August, 1868. _P._ Those are manifestations which, when not the designed work of evil spirits, have their proximate source in the dream-region which lies between the natural and spiritual worlds. _I._ Pray tell us what you mean by the dream-region that lies between the two worlds? _P._ There are sometimes conditions in which the body is profoundly asleep, with no perturbations of the nervous system caused by previous mental and physical exercise. In this state the mind may still be perfectly awake, and independently, consciously, and even intensely active. When thus conditioned, it may be, and often is, among spirits in the spiritual world, though from the nature of the case it is seldom able to bring back into the bodily state any reminiscences of the scenes of that world. The dream state, properly speaking, is not this, but a state intermediate between this and the normal, wakeful state of the bodily senses, and is a state of broken, confused, irrational, inconsistent, and irresponsible thoughts, emotions, and apparent actions--the whole arising from confusedly intermixed bodily and spiritual states and influences. The potential spheres of spirits who desire to make manifestations to the natural world sometimes become commingled, designedly or otherwise, with the spheres of persons in the body who, in consequence of certain nervous or psychic disorders, are more or less in this dream-region even when the body is so far awake as to be _en rapport_ with external things; and in such cases, whatever manifestations may arise from the spiritual potencies with which such persons are surcharged, will of necessity be beyond the control, or possibly even beyond the cognizance, of any governing spirit, and will be irrational, inconsistent, and sometimes very annoying, or even destructive, according to the types of the dreamy mentality of the medium. If you will think for a moment, you will remember that the kind of manifestations referred to are never known to occur except in the presence of persons in a semi-somnambulic or highly hysterical state, or laboring under some analogous nervous disorders; and the persons are often of a low organization, and very ignorant. THE MORAL AND RELIGIOUS DIFFICULTY. _I._ I am constrained to say, my mysterious friend, that the novelty and ingenuity of your ideas surprise me greatly, and I do, in all candor, acknowledge that you have skillfully disposed of my objections to the spiritual theory of these phenomena on _rational_ grounds, and explained the philosophy of this thing, in a manner which I am at present unable to gainsay. I must still hesitate, however, to enroll myself among the converts to the spiritual theory unless you can remove another serious objection, which rests on _moral and religious grounds_. From so important and startling a development as general open communications from spirits, it seems to me that we would have a right to expect some conspicuous _good_ to mankind; yet, although this thing has been before the world now over twenty years, I am unable to see the evidence that it has wrought any improvement in the moral and social condition of the converts to its claims. Pray, how do you account for that fact? _P._ My friend, that question should be addressed to the Spiritualists, not to me. I will say, however, that this whole subject, long as it has been before the world, is still in a chaotic state, its laws have been very little understood, and even its essential objects and uses have been very much misconceived. I may add that, from its very nature, its real practical fruits as well as its true philosophy must necessarily be the growth of a considerable period of time. _I._ I will not, then, press the objection in that form. When we look, however, at the _Religious_ tendencies of the thing, I do not think we find much promise of the "practical fruits" which you here intimate may yet come of it. I lay it down as a proposition which all history proves, that Infidelity, in all its forms, is an enemy to the human race, and that it never has done or can do anybody any good, but always has done and must do harm. But it is notorious that the spirits, if they be such, with their mediums and disciples, have _generally_ (though not universally, I grant) assumed an attitude at least of _apparent_ hostility to almost every thing peculiar to the Christian religion, and most essential to it, and are constantly reiterating the almost identical ribaldry and sophistry of the infidels of the last century. How shall a good and Christian person who knows and has felt the truth of the vital principles of Christianity become a Spiritualist while Spiritualism thus denies and scoffs at doctrines which he _feels_ and _knows_ to be true? _P._ The point you thus make is apparently a very strong one. But let me ask, Can you not conceive that there may be a difference between the mere word-teaching of Spiritualists and even spirits themselves, and the _real_ teaching of Spiritualism as such? that is to say, between mere verbal utterances and phenomenal demonstrations? For illustration, suppose a man asserts at noonday that there is no sun, does he teach you there is no sun? or does he teach you that he is blind? _I._ That he is blind, of course. _P._ So, then, when a spirit comes to you and asserts that there is no God--it is seldom that they assert that, but we will take an extreme case--does he teach you that there is no God, or does he teach you that he himself is a fool? _I._ Well, I should say he would teach the latter; but what use would the knowledge that he is such a fool be to us? _P._ It is one of the important providential designs of these manifestations to teach mankind that spirits in general maintain the characters that they formed to themselves during their earthly life--that, indeed, they are the identical persons they were while dwelling in the flesh--hence, that while there are just, truthful, wise, and Christian spirits, there are also spirits addicted to lying, profanity, obscenity, mischief, and violence, and spirits who deny God and religion, just as they did while in your world. It has become very necessary for mankind to know all this; it certainly could in no other way be so effectually made known as by an actual manifestation of it; and it is just as necessary that you should see the _dark_ side as the _bright_ side of the picture. _I._ Yet a person already adopting, or predisposed to adopt, any false doctrine asserted by a spirit, would, it seems to me, be in danger of receiving the spirit-assertion as _verbally_ true. _P._ That is to say, a person already in, or inclined to adopt, the same error that a spirit is in, would be in danger of being confirmed, for the time being, in that error, by listening to the spirit's asseveration. This, I admit, is just the effect produced for a time by the infidel word-teaching of some spirits upon those _already_ embracing, or inclined to embrace, infidel sentiments. But if you will look beyond this superficial aspect of the subject at its great phenomenal and rational teachings, I think you will see that its deeper, stronger, and more permanent tendency is, not to promote infidelity, but ultimately to destroy it for ever. I have said before, that the real object of this development has been very much misconceived; I tell you now that the great object is to purge the Church itself of its latent infidelity; to renovate the Christian faith; and to bring theology and religion up to that high standard which will be equal to the wants of this age, as it certainly now is not. _I._ Planchette, you are now touching upon a delicate subject. You should know that we are inclined to be somewhat tenacious of our theological and religious sentiments, and not to look with favor on any innovations. Nevertheless, I am curious to know how you justify yourself in this disparaging remark on the theology and religion of the day? _P._ I do not mean to be understood that there is not much that is true and good in it. There is; and I would not by a single harsh word wound the loving hearts of those who have a spark of real religious life in them. I would bind up the bruised reed, rather than break it; I would fan the smoking flax into a flame, rather than quench it. This is the sentiment of all _good_ spirits, of whom I trust I am one. But let me say most emphatically, that you want a public religion that will tower high above all other influences whatsoever; that will predominate over all, and ask favors of none; that will unite mankind in charity and brotherly love, and not divide them into hostile sects, and that will infuse its spirit into, and thus give direction to, all social and political movements. Such a religion the world must have, or from this hour degenerate. _I._ Why might not the religion of the existing churches accomplish these results, provided its professors would manifest the requisite zeal and energy? _P._ It is doing much good, and might, on the conditions you specify, do much more. Yet the public religion has become negative to other influences, instead of positive, as it should be, from which false position it can not be reclaimed without such great and vital improvements as would almost seem to amount to a renewal _ab ovo_. _I._ On what ground do you assert that the religion of the day stands in a position "negative" to other influences? _P._ I will answer by asking: Is it not patent to you and all other intelligent persons, that for the last hundred years the Christian Church and theology have been standing mainly on the defensive against the assaults of materialism and the encroachments of science? Has it not, without adequate examination, poured contempt on Mesmerism, denounced Phrenology, endeavored to explain away the facts of Geology and some of the higher branches of Astronomy? Has it not looked with a jealous eye upon the progress of science generally? and has it not been at infinite labor in merely defending the _history_ of the life, miracles, death, and resurrection of Christ, against the negations of materialists, which labor might, in a great measure, have been saved if an adequate proof could have been given of the power and omnipotent working of a _present_ Christ? And what is the course it has taken with reference to the present spiritual manifestations, the claims of which it can no more overthrow than it can drag the sun from the firmament? Now a true church--a church to which is given the power to cast out devils, and take up serpents, or drink any deadly thing, without being harmed--will always be able to stand on the aggressive against its _real_ spiritual foes more than on the mere defensive, and in no case will it ever turn its back to a fact in science. Its power will be the power of the Holy Spirit, and not the power of worldly wealth and fashion. When it reasons of righteousness, temperance, and judgment, Felix will tremble, but it will never tremble before Felix, lest he withdraw his patronage from it. _I._ I admit that the facts you state about the Church's warfare in these latter days have not the most favorable aspect; but how the needed elements of theology and religion are to be supplied by demonstrations afforded by these latter-day phenomena, I do not yet quite see. _P._ If religious teachers will but study these facts, simply _as_ facts, in all the different aspects which they have presented, from their first appearance up to this time--study them in the same spirit in which the chemist studies affinities, equivalents, and isomeric compounds--in the same spirit in which the astronomer observes planets, suns, and nebulæ--in the same spirit in which the microscopist studies monads, blood-discs, and protoplasm--always hospitable to a new fact, always willing to give up an old error for the sake of a new truth; never receiving the mere _dicta_ either of spirits or men as absolute authority, but always trusting the guidance of right reason wherever she may lead--if, I say, they will but study these great latter-day signs, providential warnings and monitions, in this spirit, I promise them that they shall soon find a _rational_ and _scientific_ ground on which to rest every real Christian doctrine, from the Incarnation to the crown of glory--miracles, the regeneration, the resurrection, and all, with the great advantage of having the doctrine of immortality taken out of the sphere of _faith_ and made a _fixed fact_. Furthermore, I promise them, on those conditions, that they shall hereafter be able to _lead_ science rather than be dragged along unwillingly in its trail; and then science will be forever enrolled in the service of God's religion, and no longer in that of the world's materialism and infidelity. _I._ Planchette, your communication has, upon the whole, been of a most startling character; tell me, I pray you, what do you call all this thing, and what is to come of it? WHAT THIS MODERN DEVELOPMENT IS, AND WHAT IS TO COME OF IT. _P._ Can you, then, bear an announcement still more startling than any I have yet made? _I._ I really know not; I will try; let us have it. _P._ Well, then, I call it a Fourth Great Divine Epiphany or Manifestation; or what you will perhaps better understand as one of the developments characterizing the beginning of a Fourth Great Divine Dispensation. What is to come of it, you will be able to judge as well as I when you understand its nature. _I._ What! so great an event heralded by so questionable an instrumentality as the rapping and table tipping spirits? _P._ Be calm, and at the same time be humble. Remember that it is not unusual for God to employ the foolish things of this world to confound the wise, and that when He comes to visit His people, He almost always comes in disguises, and sometimes even "as a thief in the night." Besides the spirits of which you speak are only the rough but very useful pioneers to open a highway through which the King is coming with innumerable hosts of angels, who, indeed, are already near you, though you see them not. It is, indeed, an hour of temptation that has come upon all the world; but be watchful and true, prayerful and faithful, and fear not. _I._ Please tell us then, if you can, something of the nature and objects of this new Divine Epiphany which you announce; and as you say it is a _Fourth_, please tell us, in brief, what were the preceding _Three_, the times of their occurrence, and how they are all distinguished from each other. _P._ The _First_ appealed only to the affections and the inner sense of the soul, and was the Dispensation of the most ancient Church, when God walked with man in the midst of the garden of his own interior delights, and when "Enoch walked with God and was not, for God took him." But as this sense of the indwelling presence of God was little more than a mere _emotion_, for which, in that period of humanity's childhood, there was no adequate, rational, and directive intelligence, men, in process of time, began to mistake _every_ delight as being divine and holy; thus they justified themselves in their _evil_ delights, or in the gratification of their lusts and passions, considering even these as all divine. [The "sons of God" marrying the "daughters of men."--_Gen._ vi. 2-4.] And as they possessed no adequate reasoning faculty to which appeals might be made for the correction of these tendencies, and thus no ground of reformation, the race gradually grew to such a towering height of wickedness that it had to be almost entirely destroyed. The _Second_ age or Dispensation, commencing with Noah, was distinctively characterized by the more special manifestation of God in outward types and shadows, in the _adyta_ of temples and other consecrated places and things, from which, as representative seats of the Divine Presence, and through inspired men, were issued _laws_ to which terrible penalties were annexed, as is exemplified by the law issued from Mount Sinai. The evil passions of men were thus put under restraint, and a rational faculty of discriminating between right and wrong--that is to say, a _Conscience_--was at the same time developed. But the sophistical use of these types and shadows (of which all ancient mythology is an outgrowth), and the accompanying perversion of the general conscience of mankind, gradually generated _Idolatry_ and _Magic_ with all their complicated evils, against which the Jewish Church, though belonging to the same general Dispensation, was specially instituted to react. Furthermore, as the mere restraints of penal law necessarily imply the existence in man of latent evils upon which the restraint is imposed, it is manifest that such a dispensation alone could not bring human nature to a state of perfection; and so a _Third_ was instituted, in which _God was manifested in the flesh_. That is to say, He became incarnate in one man who was so constituted as to embody in himself the qualitative totality of Human Nature, that through this one Man as the Head of the Body of which other men were the subordinate organs, He might become united with all others--so that by the spontaneous movings of the living Christ within, and thus in perfect freedom, they might live the divine life in their very fleshly nature, previously the source of all sinful lusts, but now, together with the inner man, wholly regenerated and made anew. Here, then, is a _Trinity_ of Divine manifestations, to the corresponding triune degrees of the nature of man--the inner or affectional degree, the intermediate, rational, or conscience degree, and the external, or sensuous degree. But while this was all that was necessary as a ground for the perfect union of man with God, in the graduated triune degrees here mentioned, and thus all that was necessary for his personal salvation in a sphere of being beyond and above the earthy, it was _not_ all that was necessary to perfect his relations to the great and mysterious realm of forms, materials, and forces which constitute the theater of his earthly struggles; nor was it quite all that was necessary to project and carry into execution the plan of that true and divine structure, order and government of human society which might be appropriately termed "the kingdom of heaven upon earth; wherefore you have now, according to a divine promise frequently repeated in the New Testament, a _Fourth_ Great Divine Manifestation, which proves to be a manifestation of God in _universal science_. _I._ But that "_Fourth_ Manifestation" (or "_second_ coming," as we are in the habit of calling it), which was promised in the New Testament, was to be attended with imposing phenomena, of which we have as yet seen nothing. It was to be a coming of Christ "in the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory," and the resurrection of the dead, the final judgment, etc., were to occur at the same time? _P._ Certainly; but you would not, of course, insist upon putting a strictly literal interpretation upon this language, and thus turning it into utter and senseless absurdity. The _real "heaven"_ is not that boundary of your vision in upper space which you call the sky, but the interior and living reality of things. The "_clouds_" that are meant are not those sheets of condensed aqueous vapor which float above your head, but the material coatings which have hitherto obscured interior realities, and through which the Divine _Logos_, the "Sun of Righteousness," is now breaking with a "power" which moves dead matter without visible hands, and with a "great glory," or light, which reveals a spiritual world within the natural. The "_Resurrection_" is not the opening of the literal graves, and re-assembling of the identical flesh, blood, and bones of dead men and nations which, during hundreds and even thousands of years, have been combining and re-combining with the universal elements; but it is the re-establishment of the long-suspended relations of spirits with the earthly sphere of being, by which they are enabled to freely manifest themselves again to their friends in the earthly life, and often to receive great benefits in return; and if you do not yet see, as accompanying and growing out of all this, the beginning of an ordeal that is to try souls, institutions, creeds, churches, and nations, as by fire, you had better wait awhile for a more full exposition of the "_last judgment_." People should learn that the kingdom of God comes not to _outward_ but to _inward_ observation, and that as for the prophetic words which have been spoken on this subject, "they are spirit, and they are life." _I._ And what of the changed aspects of science that is to grow out of this alleged peculiar Divine manifestation? _P._ To answer that question fully would require volumes. Be content, then, for the present, with the following brief words: Hitherto science has been almost wholly materialistic in its tendencies, having nothing to do with spiritual things, but ignoring and casting doubts upon them; while _spiritual_ matters, on the other hand, have been regarded by the Church wholly as matters of faith with which science has nothing to do. But through these modern manifestations, God is providentially furnishing to the world all the elements of a spiritual science which, when established and recognized, will be the stand-point from which all physical science will be viewed. It will then be more distinctly known that all external and visible forms and motions originate from invisible, spiritual, and ultimately divine causes; that between cause and effect there is always a necessary and intimate _correspondence_; and hence that the whole outer universe is but the symbol and sure index of an invisible and _vastly more real_ universe within. From this unitary basis of thought the different sciences as now correctly understood may be co-related in harmonic order as One Grand Science, the _known_ of which, by the rule of correspondence, will lead by easy clews to the _unknown_. The true structure and government of human society will be clearly hinted by the structure and laws of the universe, and especially by that _microcosm_, or little universe, the human organization. All the great stirring questions of the day, including the questions of suffrage, woman's rights, the relations between labor and capital, and the questions of general political reform, will be put into the way of an easy and speedy solution; and mankind will be ushered into the light of a brighter day, socially, politically, and religiously, than has ever yet dawned upon the world. _I._ My invisible friend, the wonderful nature of your communication excites my curiosity to know your name ere we part. Will you have the kindness to gratify me in this particular? _P._ That I may not do. My name is of no consequence in any respect. Besides, if I should give it, you might, unconsciously to yourself, be influenced to attach to it the weight of a personal authority, which is specially to be avoided in communications of this kind. There is nothing to prevent deceiving spirits from assuming great names, and you have no way of holding them responsible for their statements. With thinkers--minds that are developed to a vigorous maturity--the truth itself should be its only and sufficient authority. If what I have told you appears intrinsically rational, logical, scientific, in harmony with known facts, and appeals to your convictions with the force of truth, accept it; if not, reject it; but I advise you not to reject it before giving it a candid and careful examination. I may tell you more at some future time, but for the present, farewell. CONCLUSION. Here the interview ended. It was a part of my original plan, after reviewing various theories on this mysterious subject, to propound one of my own; but this interview with Planchette has changed my mind. I confess I am amazed and confounded, and have nothing to say. The commendable motive which the invisible intelligence, whatever it may be, assigned in the last paragraph for refusing to give its name, also prompts me to withhold my own name from this publication for the present, and likewise to abstain from the explanation I intended to give of certain particulars as to the manner and circumstances of this communication. On its own intrinsic merits alone it should be permitted to rest; and as I certainly feel that my own conceptions have been greatly enlarged, not to say that I have been greatly instructed, I give it forth in the hope that it may have the same effect upon my readers. HOW TO WORK PLANCHETTE. We have received letters from different persons who have tried Planchette, but failed to make her work. Our correspondents wish to know the reason of the failure, and what conditions must be complied with on their part to remedy the difficulty. We reply by the insertion of the following rules, which should be read in connection with the descriptive paragraph near the commencement of this pamphlet: =RULES TO BE OBSERVED IN USING PLANCHETTE.= For some persons (strong magnetizers), "Planchette" moves at once, and for one such person it moves rapidly and writes distinctly. With such a person it is not necessary for another to put their hands on; it will operate alone for them, and better than with two persons. It has been noticed that one pair of male and one pair of female hands form a more perfect Battery to work "Planchette" than two males or two females would do. It has also been noticed that one light and one dark complexioned person are better than two light or two dark persons would be together; also, that two females, with their hands on together, are better than the hands of two males would be. If, after observing these rules, "Planchette" should refuse to write, or move, different persons must try until the necessary Battery is formed to make it operate. (It is here remarked that the average number of persons able to work "Planchette" is about five to eight; but it is still possible, but improbable, to have an assemblage of eight persons and not any be able to make "Planchette" go.) After it is ascertained who are the proper persons to move "Planchette," no end of fun, amusement, and possibly instruction, will be afforded. According to the experience of the present writer, the proportional number of those for whom Planchette will work promptly, and from the first, is not quite so great as here given. But by perseverance through repeated trials, under the right mental and physical conditions, most persons may at length obtain responsive movements, more or less satisfactory. Planchette, however (or the intelligence which moves her), likes to be treated with a decent respect, and has a repugnance to confusion. Ask her, therefore, none but respectful questions, and _only one of these at a time_; and when there are several persons in the company anxious to obtain responses, while one is consulting let all the others keep _perfectly quiet_, and each patiently await his turn. A non-compliance with these conditions generally spoils the experiment. SPIRITUALISM. BY MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. [The following was written for, and published in the _Christian Union_. It was reprinted in THE PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL in 1870. We present it here, as in some measure explanatory of all the matter which precedes it. There are many who do not accept all that is claimed to be true, in Modern Spiritualism, who will entertain the moderate views expressed by The Author of Uncle Tom's Cabin. EDITOR.] It is claimed that there are in the United States four million Spiritualists. The perusal of the advertisements in any one of the weekly newspapers devoted to this subject will show that there is a system organized all over the Union to spread these sentiments. From fifty to a hundred, and sometimes more, of lecturers advertise in a single paper, to speak up and down the land; and lyceums--progressive lyceums for children, spiritual pic-nics, and other movements of the same kind, are advertised. This kind of thing has been going on from year to year, and the indications now are that it is increasing rather than diminishing. It is claimed by the advocates of these sentiments that the number of those who boldly and openly profess them is exceeded by the greater number of those who are _secretly_ convinced, but who are unwilling to encounter the degree of obloquy or ridicule which they would probably meet on an open avowal. All these things afford matter for grave thought to those to whom none of the great and deep movements of society are indifferent. When we think how very tender and sacred are the feelings with which this has to do--what power and permanency they always must have, we can not but consider such a movement of society entitled at least to the most serious and thoughtful consideration. Our own country has just been plowed and seamed by a cruel war. The bullet that has pierced thousands of faithful breasts has cut the nerve of life and hope in thousands of homes. What yearning toward the invisible state, what agonized longings must have gone up as the sound of mournful surges, during these years succeeding the war! Can we wonder that any form of religion, or of superstition, which professes in the least to mitigate the anguish of that cruel separation, and to break that dreadful silence by any voice or token, has hundreds of thousands of disciples? If on review of the spiritualistic papers and pamphlets we find them full of vague wanderings and wild and purposeless flights of fancy, can we help pitying that craving of the human soul which all this represents and so imperfectly supplies? The question arises, Has not the Protestant religion neglected to provide some portion of the true spiritual food of the human soul, and thus produced this epidemic craving? It is often held to be a medical fact that morbid appetites are the blind cry of nature for something needed in the bodily system which is lacking. The wise nurse or mother does not hold up to ridicule the poor little culprit who secretly picks a hole in the plastering that he may eat the lime; she considers within herself what is wanting in this little one's system, and how this lack shall be more judiciously and safely supplied. If it be phosphate of lime for the bones which nature is thus blindly crying for, let us give it to him more palatably and under more attractive forms. So with the epidemic cravings of human society. The wise spiritual pastor or master would inquire what is wanting to these poor souls that they are thus with hungry avidity rushing in a certain direction, and devouring with unhealthy eagerness all manner of crudities and absurdities. May it not be spiritual food, of which their mother, the Church, has abundance, which she has neglected to set before them? Now, if we compare the religious teachings of the present century with those of any past one, we shall find that the practical spiritualistic belief taught by the Bible has to a great extent dropped out of it. Let us begin with the time of Jesus Christ. Nothing is more evident in reading his life than that he was acting all the time in view of _unseen_ and spiritual influences, which were more pronounced and operative to him than any of the _visible_ and materialistic phenomena of the present life. In this respect the conduct of Christ, if imitated in the present day, would subject a man to the imputation of superstition or credulity. He imputed things to the direct agency of invisible spirits acting in the affairs of life, that we, in the same circumstances, attribute only to the constitutional liabilities of the individual acted upon by force of circumstances. As an example of this, let us take his language toward the Apostle Peter. With the habits of modern Christianity, the caution of Christ to Peter would have been expressed much on this fashion: "Simon, Simon, thou art impulsive, and liable to be carried away with sudden impressions. The Jews are about to make an attack on me which will endanger thee." This was the exterior view of the situation, but our Lord did not take it. He said, "Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to have thee that he may sift thee as wheat; but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not." This Satan was a person ever present in the mind of Christ. He was ever in his view as the invisible force by which all the visible antagonistic forces were ruled. When his disciples came home in triumph to relate the successes of their first preaching tour, Christ said, "I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven." When the Apostle Peter rebuked him for prophesying the tragical end of his earthly career, Christ answered not him, but the invisible spirit whose influence over him he recognized: "Get thee behind me, Satan! Thou art an offense unto me." When the Saviour's last trial approached, he announced the coming crisis in the words, "The prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me." When he gave himself into the hands of the Sanhedrim, he said, "This is your hour and that of the powers of darkness." When disputing with the unbelieving Jews, he told them that they were of their father, the devil; that he was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth; that when he spoke a lie he spoke of his own, for he was a liar, and the father of lies. In short, the life of Christ, as viewed by himself, was not a conflict with enemies _in the flesh_, but with an invisible enemy, artful, powerful, old as the foundations of the world, and ruling by his influences over evil spirits and men in the flesh. The same was the doctrine taught by the Apostles. In reading the Epistles we see in the strongest language how the whole visible world was up in arms against them. St. Paul gives this catalogue of his physical and worldly sufferings, proving his right to apostleship mainly by perseverance in persecution. "In labors more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft; of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one; thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned; thrice have I suffered shipwreck--a night and a day have I been in the deep. In journeyings often, in perils of water, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils among false brethren." One would say with all this, there was a sufficient array of physical and natural causes against St. Paul to stand for something. In modern language--yea, in the language of good modern Christians--it would be said "What is the use of taking into account any devil or any invisible spirits to account for Paul's trials and difficulties?--it is enough that the whole world has set itself against what he teaches--Jew and Gentile are equally antagonistic to it." But St. Paul says in the face of all this, "We are not wrestling with flesh and blood, but with principalities and powers and the leaders of the darkness of this world, and against wicked spirits in high places;" and St. Peter, recognizing the sufferings and persecutions of the early Christians, says, "Be sober, be vigilant." Why? "Because your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour." In like manner we find in the discourses of our Lord and the Apostles the recognition of a counteracting force of good spirits. When Nathaniel, one of his early disciples, was astonished at his spiritual insight, he said to him, "Thou shalt see greater things than these! Hereafter ye shall see heaven open, and angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of man." When he spoke of the importance of little children, he announced that each one of them had a guardian angel who beheld the face of God. When he was transfigured on the Mount, Moses and Elijah appeared in glory, and talked with him of his death that he was to accomplish at Jerusalem. In the hour of his agony in the garden, an angel appeared and ministered to him. When Peter drew a sword to defend him, he said, "Put up thy sword. Thinkest thou that I can not now pray to my Father, and he will give me more than twelve legions of angels?" Thus, between two contending forces of the invisible world was Christianity inaugurated. During the primitive ages the same language was used by the Fathers of the church, and has ever since been traditional. But we need not say that the fashion of modern Protestant theology and the custom of modern Protestant Christianity have been less and less of this sort. We hear from good Christians, and from Christian ministers, talk of this sort: A great deal is laid to the poor devil that he never thought of. If men would take care of their own affairs the devil will let them alone. We hear it said that there is no _evidence_ of the operation of invisible spirits in the course of human affairs. It is all a mere matter of physical, mental, and moral laws working out their mission with unvarying certainty. But is it a fact, then, that the great enemy whom Christ so constantly spoke of is dead? Are the principalities and powers and rulers of the darkness of this world, whom Paul declared to be the real opponents that the Christian has to arm against, all dead? If that great enemy whom Christ declared the source of all opposition to himself is yet living, with his nature unchanged, there is as much reason to look for his action behind the actions of men and the vail of material causes as there was in Christ's time; and if the principalities and powers and rulers of the darkness of this world, that Paul speaks of, have not died, then they are now, as they were in his day, the _principal_ thing the Christian should keep in mind and against which he should arm. And, on the other hand, if it is true, as Christ declared, that every little child in him has a guardian angel, who always beholds the Father's face; if, as St. Paul says, it is true that the angels all are "ministering spirits sent forth to minister to those who shall be heirs of salvation," then it follows that every one of us is being constantly watched over, cared for, warned, guided, and ministered to by invisible spirits. Now let us notice in what regions and in what classes of mind the modern spiritualistic religion has most converts. To a remarkable degree it takes minds which have been denuded of all faith in spirits; minds which are empty, swept of all spiritual belief, are the ones into which any amount of spirits can enter and take possession. That is to say, the human soul, in a state of starvation for one of its normal and most necessary articles of food, devours right and left every marvel of modern spiritualism, however crude. The old angelology of the Book of Daniel and the Revelation is poetical and grand. Daniel sees lofty visions of beings embodying all the grand forces of nature. He is told of invisible princes who rule the destiny of nations! Michael, the guardian prince of the Jews, is hindered twenty-one days from coming, at the prayer of Daniel, by the conflicting princes of Media and Persia. In the New Testament, how splendid is the description of the angel of the resurrection! "And behold, there was a great earthquake, and the angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone from the door and sat upon it! His countenance was as the lightning, and his raiment white as snow, and for fear of him the keepers did shake and become as dead men." We have here spiritualistic phenomena worthy of a God--worthy our highest conceptions--elevated, poetic, mysterious, grand! And communities, and systems of philosophy and theology, which have explained all the supernatural art of the Bible, or which are always apologizing for it, blushing for it, ignoring and making the least they can of it--such communities will go into spiritualism by hundreds and by thousands. Instead of angels, whose countenance is as the lightning, they will have ghosts and tippings and tappings and rappings. Instead of the great beneficent miracles recorded in Scripture, they will have senseless clatterings of furniture and breaking of crockery. Instead of Christ's own promise, "He that keepeth my commandments, I will love him and manifest _myself_," they will have manifestations from all sorts of anonymous spirits, good, bad, and indifferent. Well, then, what is the way to deal with spiritualism? Precisely what the hunter uses when he stands in the high, combustible grass and sees the fire sweeping around him on the prairies. He sets fire to the grass all around him, and it burns _from_ instead of _to_ him, and thus he fights fire with fire. Spiritualism, in its crudities and errors, can be met only in that way. The true spiritualism of the Bible is what will be the only remedy for the cravings of that which is false and delusive. Some years ago the writer of this, in deep sorrow for the sudden death of a son, received the following letter from a Roman Catholic priest, in a neighboring town. He was a man eminent for holiness of life and benevolence, and has since entered the rest of the blessed. DEAR MADAM: In the deep affliction that has recently visited you I implore you to remember well that there is a communion of spirits of the departed just, which death can not prevent, and which, with prayer, can impart much consolation. This, with the condolence of every parent and child in my flock, I beg leave to offer you, wishing, in the mean time, to assure you of my heartfelt regret and sympathy. Yours, very truly, JAMES O'DONNELL, Catholic Pastor, Lawrence. What is this communion which death can not prevent, and which with prayer can impart consolation? It is known in the Apostles' Creed as "THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS." When it is considered what social penalties attach to the profession of this faith, one must admit that only some very strong cause can induce persons of standing and established reputation openly to express beliefs of this kind. The penalty is loss of confidence and being reputed of unsound mind. It is not an easy thing to profess belief in anything which destroys one's reputation for sanity, yet undoubtedly this is the result. It must also be admitted that most of the literature which has come into existence in this way is of a doubtful and disreputable kind, and of a tendency to degrade rather than elevate our conceptions of a spiritual state. Yet such is the hunger, the longing, the wild craving of the human soul for the region of future immortality, its home-sickness for its future home, its perishing anguish of desire for the beloved ones who have been torn away from it, and to whom in every nerve it still throbs and bleeds, that professed words and messages from that state, however unworthy, are met with a trembling agony of eagerness, a willingness to be deceived, most sorrowful to witness. But any one who judges of the force of this temptation merely by what is published in the _Banner of Light_, and other papers of that class, has little estimate of what there is to be considered in the way of existing phenomena under this head. The cold scientists who, without pity and without sympathy, have supposed that they have had under their dissecting knives the very phenomena which have deluded their fellows, mistake. They have not seen them, and in the cold, unsympathizing mood of science, they never can see them. The experiences that have most weight with multitudes who believe more than they dare to utter, are secrets deep as the grave, sacred as the innermost fibers of their souls--they can not bring their voices to utter them except in some hour of uttermost confidence and to some friend of tried sympathy. They know what they have seen and what they have heard. They know the examinations they have made they know the inexplicable results, and, like Mary of old, they keep all these sayings and ponder them in their hearts. They have no sympathy with the vulgar, noisy, outward phenomena of tippings and rappings and signs and wonders. They have no sympathy with the vulgar and profane attacks on the Bible, which form part of the utterances of modern seers; but they can not forget, and they can not explain things which in sacred solitude or under circumstances of careful observation have come under their own notice. They have no wish to make converts--they shrink from conversation, they wait for light; but when they hear all these things scoffed at, they think within themselves--Who knows? We have said that the strong, unregulated, and often false spiritualistic current of to-day is a result of the gradual departure of Christendom from the true supernaturalism of primitive ages. We have shown how Christ and his Apostles always regarded the invisible actors on the stage of human existence as more powerful than the visible ones; that they referred to their influence over the human spirit and over the forces of nature, things which modern rationalism refers only to natural laws. We can not illustrate the departure of modern society from primitive faith better than in a single instance--a striking one. The Apostles' Creed is the best formula of Christian faith--it is common to the Greek, the Roman, the Reformed Churches, and published by our Pilgrim Fathers in the New England Primer in connection with the Assembly's Catechism. It contains the following profession: "I believe in the Holy Ghost; the Holy Catholic Church; the Communion of Saints; the Forgiveness of Sins," etc. In this sentence, according to Bishop Pearson on the Creed, are announced four important doctrines: 1. The Holy Ghost; 2. The Holy Catholic Church; 3. The Communion of Saints; 4. The Forgiveness of Sins. To each one of these the good Bishop devotes some twenty or thirty pages of explanation. But it is customary with many clergymen in reading to slur the second and third articles together, thus: "I believe in the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints"--that is to say, I believe in the Holy Catholic Church, which is the communion of saints. Now, in the standard edition of the English Prayer Book, and in all the editions published from it, the separate articles of faith are divided by semicolons--thus: "The Holy Ghost; The Holy Catholic Church; The Communion of Saints." But in our American editions the punctuation is altered to suit a modern rationalistic idea--thus: "The Holy Catholic Church, the Communion of Saints." The doctrine of the Communion of Saints, as held by primitive Christians, and held still by the Roman and Greek Churches, is thus dropped out of view in the modern Protestant Episcopal reading. But what is this doctrine? Bishop Pearson devotes a long essay to it, ending thus: Every one may learn by this what he is to understand by this part of the article in which he professeth to believe in the Communion of Saints. Thereby he is conceived to express thus much: "I am fully persuaded of this, as a necessary and infallible truth, that such persons as are truly sanctified in the Church of Christ, while they live in the crooked generations of men and struggle with all the miseries of this world, have fellowship with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost ... that they partake of the kindness and care of the blessed angels who take delight in ministrations for their benefit, that ... they have an intimate union and conjunction with all the saints on earth as being members of Christ; NOR IS THIS UNION SEPARATED BY THE DEATH OF ANY, but they have communion with all the saints who, from the death of Abel, have departed this life in the fear of God, and now enjoy the presence of the Father, and follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. "_And thus I believe in the Communion of Saints._" Now, we appeal to the consciences of modern Christians whether this statement of the doctrine of the Communion of Saints represents the doctrine that they have heard preached from the pulpit, and whether it has been made practically so much the food and nourishment of their souls as to give them all the support under affliction and bereavement which it certainly is calculated to do? Do they really believe themselves to partake in their life-struggle of the kindness and care of the blessed angels who take delight in ministrations for their benefit? Do they believe they are united by intimate bonds with all Christ's followers? Do they believe that the union is not separated by the death of any of them, but that they have communion with all the saints who have departed this life in the faith and now enjoy the presence of the Father? Would not a sermon conceived in the terms of this standard treatise excite an instant sensation as tending toward the errors of Spiritualism? And let us recollect that the Apostles' Creed from which this is taken was as much a standard with our Pilgrim Fathers as the Cambridge Platform. If we look back to Cotton Mather's Magnalia, we shall find that the belief in the ministration of angels and the conflict of invisible spirits, good and evil, in the affairs of men, was practical and influential in the times of our fathers. If we look at the first New England Systematic Theology, that of Dr. Dwight, we shall find the subject of Angels and Devils and their ministry among men fully considered. In the present theological course at Andover that subject is wholly omitted. What may be the custom in other theological seminaries of the present day we will not say. We will now show what the teaching and the feeling of the primitive church was on the subject of the departed dead and the ministrations of angels. In _Coleman's Christian Antiquities_, under the head of Death and Burial of the Early Christians, we find evidence of the great and wide difference which existed between the Christian community and all the other world, whether Jews or heathen, in regard to the vividness of their conceptions of immortality. The Christian who died was not counted as lost from their number--the fellowship with him was still unbroken. The theory and the practice of the Christians was to look on the departed as no otherwise severed from them than the man who has gone to New York is divided from his family in Boston. He is not within the scope of the senses, he can not be addressed, but he is the same person, with the same heart, still living and loving, and partners with them of all joys and sorrows. But while they considered personal identity and consciousness unchanged and the friend as belonging to them, as much after death as before, they regarded his death as an advancement, an honor, a glory. It was customary, we are told, to celebrate the day of his death as his birth-day--the day when he was born to new immortal life. Tertullian, who died in the year 220 in his treatise called the _Soldier's Chaplet_, says: "We make anniversary oblations for the dead--for their birth-days," meaning the day of their death. In another place he says, "It was the practice of a widow to pray for the soul of her deceased husband, desiring on his behalf present refreshment or rest, and a part in the first resurrection," and offering annually for him oblation on the day of his _falling asleep_. By this gentle term the rest of the body in the grave was always spoken of among Christians. It is stated that on these anniversary days of commemorating the dead they were used to make a feast, inviting both clergy and people, but especially the poor and needy, the widows and orphans, that it might not only be a memorial of rest to the dead, but a memorial of a sweet savor in the sight of God. A Christian funeral was in every respect a standing contrast to the lugubrious and depressing gloom of modern times. Palms and olive branches were carried in the funeral procession, and the cypress was rejected as symbolizing gloom. Psalms and hymns of a joyful and triumphant tone were sung around the corpse while it was kept in the house and on the way to the grave. St. Chrysostom, speaking of funeral services, quotes passages from the psalms and hymns that were in common use, thus: "What mean our psalms and hymns? Do we not glorify God and give him thanks that he hath crowned him that has departed, that he hath delivered him from trouble, that he hath set him free from all fear? Consider what thou singest at the time. 'Turn again to thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath rewarded thee;' and again: 'I will fear no evil because thou art with me;' and again: 'Thou art my refuge from the affliction that compasseth me about.' Consider what these psalms mean. If thou believest the things which thou sayest to be true, why dost thou weep and lament and make a pageantry and a mock of thy singing? If thou believest them _not_ to be true, why dost thou play the hypocrite so much as to sing?" Coleman says, also: "The sacrament of the Lord's Supper was administered at funerals and often at the grave itself. By this rite it was professed that the communion of saints was still perpetuated between the living and the dead. It was a favorite idea that both still continued members of the same mystical body, the same on earth and in heaven."--_Antiq., p. 413._ Coleman says, also, that the early Christian utterly discarded all the Jewish badges and customs of mourning, such as sackcloth and ashes and rent garments, and severely censured the Roman custom of wearing black. St. Augustine says: "Why should we disfigure ourselves with black, unless we would imitate unbelieving nations, not only in their wailing for the dead, but also in their mourning apparel? Be assured, these are foreign and unlawful usages." He says, also: "Our brethren are not to be mourned for being liberated from this world when we know that they are not _om_itted but _pre_mitted, receding from us only that they may precede us, so that journeying and voyaging before us they are to be _desired_ but not lamented. Neither should we put on black raiment for them when they have already taken their white garments; and occasion should not be given to the Gentiles that they should rightly and justly reprove us, that we grieve over those as extinct and lost who we say are now alive with God, and the faith that we profess by voice and speech we deny by the testimony of our heart and bosom." Are not many of the usages and familiar forms of speech of modern Christendom a return to old heathenism? Are they not what St. Augustine calls a repudiation of the Christian faith? The black garments, the funeral dreariness, the mode of speech which calls a departed friend lost--have they not become the almost invariable rule in Christian life? So really and truly did the first Christians believe that their friends were still one with themselves, that they considered them even in their advanced and glorified state a subject of prayers. Prayer for each other was to the first Christians a reality. The intimacy of their sympathy, the entire oneness of their life, made prayer for each other a necessity, and they prayed for each other instinctively as they prayed for themselves. So, St. Paul says "_Always_ in _every_ prayer of mine making request for you always with joy." Christians are commanded without ceasing to pray for each other. As their faith forbade them to consider the departed as lost or ceasing to exist, or in any way being out of their fellowship and communion, it did not seem to them strange or improper to yield to that impulse of the loving heart which naturally breathes to the Heavenly Father the name of its beloved. On the contrary, it was a custom in the earliest Christian times, in the solemn service of the Eucharist, to commend to God in a memorial prayer the souls of their friends _departed_, but not _dead_. In Coleman's _Antiquities_, and other works of the same kind, many instances of this are given. We select some: Arnobius, in his treatise against the heathen writers, probably in 305, speaking of the prayers offered after the consecration of the elements in the Lord's Supper, says "that Christians prayed for pardon and peace in behalf of the living and dead." Cyril, of Jerusalem, reports the prayer made after consecrating the elements in Holy Communion in these words: "We offer this sacrifice in memory of those who have fallen asleep before us, first patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs, that God by their prayers and supplications may receive our supplications and those we pray for, our holy fathers and bishops, and all that have fallen asleep before us, believing it is of great advantage to their souls to be prayed for while the holy and tremendous sacrifice lies upon the altar." A memorial of this custom has come into the Protestant Church in the Episcopal Eucharistic service where occur these words: "And we also bless thy Holy Name for all thy servants departed this life in thy faith and fear, beseeching Thee to give us grace so to follow their good examples, that we with them may be partakers of thy Heavenly Kingdom." It will be seen here the progress of an idea, its corruption and its reform. The original idea with the primitive Christian was this: "My friend is neither dead nor changed. He is only gone before me, and is promoted to higher joy; but he is still mine and I am his. Still can I pray for him, still can he pray for me; and as when he was here on earth we can be mutually helped by each other's prayers." Out of this root--so simple and so sweet--grew idolatrous exaggerations of saint worship and a monstrous system of bargain and sale of prayers for the dead. The Reformation swept all this away--and, as usual with reformations, swept away a portion of the primitive truth--but it retained still the Eucharistic memorial of departed friends as a fragment of primitive simplicity. The Church, furthermore, appointed three festivals of commemoration of these spiritual members of the great Church Invisible with whom they held fellowship--the festivals of All Souls, of All Angels, of All Saints. Two of these are still retained in the Episcopal Church the feast of St. Michael and All Angels, and the feast of All Saints. These days are derived from those yearly anniversaries which were common in the primitive ages. [Here we have a formal deprecation of the tendency of modern orthodoxy to withdraw from what was once regarded as a proper religious belief and sentiment, and which modern Spiritualists warmly accept, and make one of the chief grounds for their doctrine of intercommunication between the departed dead and the living. We expect to give our readers other papers by Mrs. Stowe in continuation of her discussion on the subject. * * * * * In the following letter, or extract from a letter, from Mr. Andrew Jackson Davis, one of the leading lights and exponents of Spiritualism at the present day, we have a voice from the _inside_, furnishing some information with regard to the state of spiritualistic affairs in America, and some of the expected results of the movement.] "Spiritualism, for the most part, is a _shower_ from the realm of intelligences and uncultured affections. It is rapidly irrigating and fertilizing everything that has root and the seed-power to grow. It is starting up the half-dead trees of Sectarianism, causing the most miserable weeds to grow rapid and rank, and of course, attracting very general attention to religious feelings and super-terrene existences. "As an effect of this spiritualistic rain, you may look for an immense harvest of both wheat and tares--the grandest growths in great principles and ideas on the one hand, and a fearful crop of crudities and disorganizing superstitions on the other. There will be seen floating on the flood many of our most sacred institutions. Old wagon-ruts, long-forgotten cow-tracks, every little hole and corner in the old highways, will be filled to the brim with the rain. You will hardly know the difference between the true springs and the flowing mud-pools visible on every side. Many noble minds will stumble as they undertake to ford the new streams which will come up to their very door-sills, if not into their sacred and established habitations. Perhaps lives may be lost; perhaps homes may be broken up; perhaps fortunes may be sacrificed; for who ever heard of a great flood, a storm of much power, or an earthquake, that did not do one, or two, or _all_ of these deplorable things? Spiritualism is, indeed, all and everything which its worst enemies or best friends ever said of it;--a great rain from heaven, a storm of violence, a power unto salvation, a destroyer and a builder too--each, and all, and everything good, bad, and indifferent; for which every one, nevertheless, should be thankful, as eventually all will be when the evil subsides, when the severe rain is over, and the clouds dispersed--when even the blind will see with new eyes, the lame walk, and the mourners of the world be made to rejoice with joy unspeakable. "Of course, my kind brother, you know that I look upon 'wisdom' organized into our daily lives, and 'love' inspiring every heart, as the only true heaven appointed saviour of mankind. And all spiritual growth and intellectual advancement in the goodnesses and graces of this redeemer I call an application of the Harmonial Philosophy. But I find, as most likely you do, that it is as hard to get the Spiritualists to become Harmonial Philosophers as to induce ardent Bible-believers to daily practice the grand essentials which dwell in the warm heart of Christianity." * * * * * It is not long since the writer was in conversation with a very celebrated and popular minister of the modern Church, who has for years fulfilled a fruitful ministry in New England. He was speaking of modern Spiritualism as one of the most dangerous forms of error--as an unaccountable infatuation. The idea was expressed by a person present that it was after all true that the spirits of the departed friends were in reality watching over our course and interested in our affairs in this world. The clergyman, who has a fair right, by reason of his standing and influence to represent the New England pulpit, met that idea by a prompt denial. "A pleasing sentimental dream," he said, "very apt to mislead, and for which there is no scriptural and rational foundation." We have shown in our last article what the very earliest Christians were in the habit of thinking with regard to the unbroken sympathy between the living and those called dead, and how the Church by very significant and solemn acts pronounced them to be not only alive, but alive in a fuller, higher, and more joyful sense than those on earth. We may remember that among the primitive Christians the celebration of the Lord's Supper was not as in our modern times a rare and unfrequent occurrence, coming at intervals of two, three, and even six months, but that it occurred every Sunday, and on many of the solemn events of life, as funerals and marriages, and that one part of the celebration always consisted in recognizing by a solemn prayer the unbroken unity of the saints below and the saints in heaven. We may remember, too, that it was a belief among them that angels were invisibly present, witnessing and uniting with the eucharistic memorial--a belief of which we still have the expression in that solemn portion of the Episcopal communion service which says, "Wherefore with angels and archangels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify thy Holy Name." This part of the eucharistic service was held by the first Christians to be the sacred and mysterious point of confluence when the souls of saints on earth and the blessed in heaven united. So says Saint Chrysostom: "The seraphim above sing the holy Trisagion hymn; the holy congregation of men on earth send up the same; the general assembly of celestial and earthly creatures join together; there is one thanksgiving, one exultation; one choir of men and angels rejoicing together." And in another place he says: "The martyrs are now rejoicing in concert, partaking of the mystical songs of the heavenly choir. For if while they were in the body whenever they communicated in the sacred mysteries they made part of the choir, singing with the cherubim, 'holy, holy, holy,' as ye all that are initiated in the holy mysteries know; much more now, being joined with those whose partners they were in the earthly choir, they do with greater freedom partake of those solemn glorifications of God above." The continued identity, interest and unbroken oneness of the departed with the remaining was a topic frequently insisted on among early Christian ministers--it was one reason of the rapid spread of Christianity. Converts flocked in clouds to the ranks of a people who professed to have vanquished death--in whose inclosure love was forever safe, and who by so many sacred and solemn acts of recognition consoled the bereaved heart with this thought, that their beloved, though unseen, was still living and loving--still watching, waiting, and caring for them. Modern rationalistic religion says: "We do not know anything about them--God has taken them: of them and their estate we know nothing: whether they remember us, whether they know what we are doing, whether they care for us, whether we shall ever see them again to know them, are all questions vailed in inscrutable mystery. We must give our friends up wholly and take refuge in God." But St. Augustine, speaking on the same subject, says: "Therefore, if we wish to hold communion with the saints in eternal life we must think much of imitating them. They ought to recognize in us something of their virtues, that they may better offer their supplications to God for us. These [virtues] are the foot-prints which the blessed returning to their country have left, that we shall follow their path to joy. Why should we not hasten and run after them that we too may see our fatherland? There a great crowd of dear ones are awaiting us, of parents, brethren, children, a multitudinous host are longing for us--now secure of their own safety, and anxious only for our salvation." Now let us take the case of some poor, widowed mother, from whose heart has been torn an only son--pious, brave, and beautiful--her friend, her pride, her earthly hope--struck down suddenly as by a lightning stroke. The physical shock is terrible--the cessation of communion, if the habits of intercourse and care, if the habit, so sweet to the Christian, of praying for that son, must all cease. We can see now what the primitive Church would have said to such a mother: "Thy son is _not_ dead. To the Christian there is no death--follow his footsteps, imitate his prayerfulness and watchfulness, and that he may the better pray for thee, keep close in the great communion of saints." Every Sabbath would bring to her the eucharistic feast, when the Church on earth and the Church in heaven held their reunion, where "with angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven," they join their praises! and she might feel herself drawing near to her blessed one in glory. How consoling--how comforting such Church fellowship! A mother under such circumstances would feel no temptation to resort to doubtful, perplexing sources, to glean here and there fragments of that consolation which the Church was ordained to give. In every act of life the primitive Church recognized that the doors of heaven were open through her ordinances and the communion of love with the departed blest unbroken. It has been our lot to know the secret history of many who are not outwardly or professedly Spiritualists--persons of sober and serious habits of thought, of great self-culture and self-restraint, to whom it happened after the death of a friend to meet accidentally and without any seeking or expecting on their part with spiritualistic phenomena of a very marked type. These are histories that never will be unvailed to the judgment of a scoffing and unsympathetic world; that in the very nature of the case must forever remain secret; yet they have brought to hearts bereaved and mourning that very consolation which the Christian Church ought to have afforded them, and which the primitive Church so amply provided. In conversation with such, we have often listened to remarks like this: "I do not seek these things--I do not search out mediums nor attend spiritual circles. I have attained all I wish to know, and am quite indifferent now whether I see another manifestation." "And what," we inquired, "is this something that you have attained?" "Oh, I feel perfectly certain that my friend is not dead--but alive, unchanged, in a region of joy and blessedness, expecting me, and praying for me, and often ministering to me." Compare this with the language of St. Augustine, and we shall see that it is simply a return to the stand-point of the primitive Church. Among the open and professed Spiritualists are some men and women of pure and earnest natures, and seriously anxious to do good, and who ought to be distinguished from the charlatans who have gone into it merely from motives of profit and self-interest. Now it is to be remarked that this higher class of spiritualists, with one voice, declare that the subject of spiritual communication is embarrassed with formidable difficulties. They admit that lying spirits often frequent the circle, that they are powerful to deceive, and that the means of distinguishing between the wiles of evil spirits and the communications of good ones are very obscure. This, then, is the prospect. The pastures of the Church have been suffered to become bare and barren of one species of food which the sheep crave and sicken for the want of. They break out of the inclosure and rush, unguided, searching for it among poisonous plants, which closely resemble it, but whose taste is deadly. Those remarkable phenomena which affect belief upon this subject are not confined to paid mediums and spiritual circles, so called. They sometimes come of themselves to persons neither believing in them, looking for them, nor seeking them. Thus coming they can not but powerfully and tenderly move the soul. A person in the desolation of bereavement, visited with such experiences, is in a condition which calls for the tenderest sympathy and most careful guidance. Yet how little of this is there to be found! The attempt to unvail their history draws upon them, perhaps, only cold ridicule and a scarcely suppressed doubt of their veracity. They are repelled from making confidence where they ought to find the wisest guidance, and are drawn by an invisible sympathy into labyrinths of deception and error--and finally, perhaps, relapse into a colder skepticism than before. That such experiences are becoming common in our days, is a fact that ought to rouse true Christians to consideration, and to searching the word of God to find the real boundaries and the true and safe paths. We have stated in the last article, and in this, what the belief and the customs of the primitive Christians were in respect to the departed. We are aware that it does not follow, of course, that a custom is to be adopted in our times because the first Christians preached and taught it. A man does not become like his ancestors by dressing up in their old clothes--but by acting in their _spirit_. It is quite possible to wear such robes and practice such ceremonies as the early Christians did and not to be in the least like them. Therefore let us not be held as advocating the practice of administering the eucharist at funerals, and of praying for the dead in the eucharistic service, because it was done in the first three centuries. But we do hold to a return to the _spirit_ which caused these customs. We hold to _that belief_ in the unbroken unity possible between those who have passed to the higher life than this. We hold to that vivid faith in things unseen which was the strength of primitive Christians. The first Christians _believed_ what they said they did--we do not. The unseen spiritual world, its angels and archangels, its saints and martyrs, its purity and its joys, were ever before them, and that is why they were such a mighty force in the world. St. Augustine says that it was the vision of the saints gone before that inspired them with courage and contempt of death--and it is true. In another paper we shall endeavor to show how far these beliefs of the primitive Church correspond with the Holy Scripture. DR. DODDRIDGE'S DREAM [In concluding these Psychological discussions, what is there more appropriate than the following? If it be called only a dream, or, even a delusion, what harm can come of it? Is it not in keeping with Scripture teachings, as now interpreted? For ourselves, we enjoy our own opinions on subjects not susceptible of proof to the external senses. Others may do the same. EDITOR.] Dr. Doddridge was on terms of very intimate friendship with Dr. Samuel Clarke, and in religious conversation they spent many happy hours together. Among other matters, a very favorite topic was the intermediate state of the soul, and the probability that at the instant of dissolution it was introduced into the presence of all the heavenly hosts, and the splendors around the throne of God. One evening, after a conversation of this nature, Dr. Doddridge retired to rest, and "in the visions of the night" his ideas were shaped into the following beautiful form. He dreamed that he was at the house of a friend, when he was taken suddenly and dangerously ill. By degrees he seemed to grow worse, and at last to expire. In an instant he was sensible that he had exchanged the prison-house and sufferings of mortality for a state of liberty and happiness. Embodied in a slender, aerial form, he seemed to float in a region of pure light. Beneath him lay the earth, but not a glittering city or a village, the forest or the sea were visible. There was naught to be seen below save the melancholy group of his friends, weeping around his lifeless remains. Himself thrilled with delight, he was surprised at their tears, and attempted to inform them of his happy change, but by some mysterious power, utterance was denied; and as he anxiously leaned over the mourning circle, gazing fondly upon them and struggling to speak, he rose silently upon the air, their forms became more and more indistinct, and gradually melted away from his sight. Reposing upon golden clouds, he found himself swiftly mounting the skies, with a venerable figure at his side, guiding his mysterious movements, and in whose countenance he discovered the lineaments of youth and age blended together, with an intimate harmony and majestic sweetness. They traveled together through a vast region of empty space, until, at length, the battlements of a glorious edifice shone in the distance, and as its form rose brilliant and distinct among the far-off shadows that flitted athwart their path, the guide informed him that the palace he beheld was, for the present, to be his mansion of rest. Gazing upon its splendor, he replied that while on earth he had often heard that eye had not seen, nor ear heard, nor could the heart of man conceive, the things which God hath prepared for those who love him; but notwithstanding the building to which they were rapidly approaching was superior to anything he had before beheld, yet its grandeur had not exceeded the conceptions he had formed. The guide made no reply--they were already at the door, and entered. The guide introduced him into a spacious apartment, at the extremity of which stood a table, covered with a snow-white cloth, a golden cup, and a cluster of grapes, and then said that he must leave him, but that _he_ must remain, for in a short time he would receive a visit from the lord of the mansion, and that during the interval before his arrival, the apartment would furnish him sufficient entertainment and instruction. The guide vanished, and he was left alone. He began to examine the decorations of the room, and observed that the walls were adorned with a number of pictures. Upon nearer inspection he perceived, to his astonishment, that they formed a complete biography of his own life. Here he saw depicted, that angels, though unseen, had ever been his familiar attendants; and sent by God they had sometimes preserved him from imminent peril. He beheld himself first represented as an infant just expiring, when his life was prolonged by an angel gently breathing into his nostrils. Most of the occurrences delineated were perfectly familiar to his recollection, and unfolded many things which he had never before understood, and which had perplexed him with many doubts and much uneasiness. Among others he was particularly impressed with a picture in which he was represented as falling from his horse, when death would have been inevitable had not an angel received him in his arms and broken the force of his descent. These merciful interpositions of God filled him with joy and gratitude, and his heart overflowed with love as he surveyed in them all an exhibition of goodness and mercy far beyond all that he had imagined. Suddenly his attention was arrested by a knock at the door. The lord of the mansion had arrived--the door opened and he entered. So powerful and overwhelming, and withal of such singular beauty was his appearance, that he sank down at his feet, completely overcome by his majestic presence. His lord gently raised him from the ground, and taking his hand led him forward to the table. He pressed with his fingers the juice of the grapes into the golden cup, and after having himself drank, he presented it to him, saying, "This is the new wine in my Father's kingdom." No sooner had he partaken than all uneasy sensations vanished, perfect love had now cast out fear, and he conversed with the Saviour as an intimate friend. Like the silver rippling of a summer sea he heard fall from his lips the grateful approbation: "Thy labors are finished, thy work is approved; rich and glorious is the reward." Thrilled with an unspeakable bliss, that pervaded the very depths of his soul, he suddenly saw glories upon glories bursting upon his view. The Doctor awoke. Tears of rapture from this joyful interview were rolling down his cheeks. Long did the lively impression of this charming dream remain upon his mind, and never could he speak of it without emotions of joy, and with tender and grateful remembrance. BRAIN AND MIND; OR, MENTAL SCIENCE CONSIDERED IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE PRINCIPLES OF PHRENOLOGY, AND IN RELATION TO MODERN PHYSIOLOGY. By HENRY S. DRAYTON, A.M., M.D., and JAMES MCNEILL, A.B. Illustrated with over 100 Portraits and Diagrams. 12mo, extra cloth, $1.50. This contribution to the science of mind has been made in response to the demand of the time for a work embodying the grand principles of Phrenology, as they are understood and applied to-day by the advanced exponents of mental philosophy, who accept the doctrine caught by Gall, Spurzheim, and Combe. The following, from the Table of Contents, shows the scope of the work: General Principles; Of the Temperaments; Structure of the Brain and Skull; Classification of the Faculties; The Selfish Organs; The Intellect; The Semi-Intellectual Faculties; The Organs of the Social Functions; The Selfish Sentiments; The Moral and Religious Sentiments; How to Examine Heads; How Character is Manifested; The Action of the Faculties; The Relation of Phrenology to Metaphysics and Education; Value of Phrenology as an Art; Phrenology and Physiology; Objections and Confirmations by the Physiologists; Phrenology in General Literature. NOTICES OF THE PRESS. "Phrenology is no longer a thing laughed at. The scientific researches of the last twenty years have demonstrated the fearful and wonderful complication of matter, not only with mind, but with what we call moral qualities. Thereby, we believe, the divine origin of 'our frame' has been newly illustrated, and the Scriptural psychology confirmed; and in the Phrenological Chart we are disposed to find a species of 'urim and thummim,' revealing, if not the Creator's will concerning us, at least His revelation of essential character. The above work is, without doubt, the best popular presentation of the science which has yet been made. It confines itself strictly to facts, and is not written in the interest of any pet 'theory.' It is made very interesting by its copious illustrations, pictorial and narrative, and the whole is brought down to the latest information on this curious and suggestive department of knowledge."--_Christian Intelligencer, N. Y._ "Whether a reader be inclined to believe Phrenology or not, he must find the volume a mine of interest, gather many suggestions of the highest value, and rise from its perusal with clearer views of the nature of mind and the responsibilities of human life. The work constitutes a complete text-book on the subject."--_Presbyterian Journal, Philadelphia._ "In 'Brain and Mind' the reader will find the fundamental ideas on which Phrenology rests fully set forth and analyzed, and the science clearly and practically treated. It is not at all necessary for the reader to be a believer in the science to enjoy the study of the latest exposition of its methods. The literature of the science is extensive, but so far as we know there is no one book which so comprehensively as 'Brain and Mind' defines its limits and treats of its principles so thoroughly, not alone philosophically, but also in their practical relation to the everyday life of man."--_Cal. Advertiser._ In style and treatment it is adapted to the general reader, abounds with valuable instruction expressed in clear, practical terms, and the work constitutes by far the best Text-book on Phrenology published, and is adapted to both private and class study. The illustrations of the Special Organs and Faculties are for the most part from portraits of men and women whose characters are known, and great pains have been taken to exemplify with accuracy the significance of the text in each case. For the student of mind and character the work is of the highest value. By mail, postpaid, on receipt of price, $1.50. Address, FOWLER & WELLS CO., Publishers, 753 Broadway, N. Y. [Illustration: 6. Combativeness. 3. Friendship.] THE PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL is widely known in America and Europe, having been before the reading world fifty years, and occupying a place in literature exclusively its own, viz.: the study of =Human Nature=. It has long met with the approval of the press and the people, and as a means of introducing the JOURNAL and extending an interest in the subject, we have prepared a new =Phrenological Chart=. This is a handsome lithograph of a symbolical head, in which the relative location of each of the organs is shown by special designs illustrating the function of each in the human mind. These sketches are not simply outlines, as shown above, but many of them are little gems of artistic design and coloring in themselves, and will help the student to locate the faculties and to impress his mind with a correct idea of their prime functions. For instance, =Combativeness= is represented by a scene in a lawyer's office, where a disagreement has led to an angry dispute; =Secretiveness= is shown by a picture of the cunning fox attempting to visit a hen-roost by the light of the moon; the teller's desk in a bank represents =Acquisitiveness=; a butcher's shop is made to stand for =Destructiveness=; the familiar scene of the "Good Samaritan" exhibits the influence of =Benevolence=; =Sublimity= is pictured by a sketch of the grand scenery of the Yosemite Valley. The Chart also contains a printed Key, giving the names and definitions of the different faculties. The whole picture is very ornamental, and must prove a feature of peculiar attraction wherever it is seen; nothing like it for design and finish being elsewhere procurable. It is mounted with rings for hanging on the wall, and will be appropriate for the home, office, library, or school. The head itself is about twelve inches wide, beautifully lithographed in colors, on heavy plate paper, about 19 x 24 inches. Price, $1.00. It is published and offered as a special premium for subscribers to the =Phrenological Journal= for 1885. To those who prefer it, we will send the Phrenological Bust as a premium. The Journal is published at $2.00 a year, with 15 cents extra required when the Chart or Bust is sent. Single Number, 20 cents. Address FOWLER & WELLS CO., Publishers, 753 Broadway, N. Y. Transcriber's Note Words in italics have been surrounded with _underscores_ and bold words with =signs=. Small capitals have been changed to all capitals. Some of the section titles in the Table of Contents are different from the ones in the main text. This has not been changed. One of the page numbers in the Table of Contents has been changed from "82" to "81". A few punctuation errors have been corrected without note. Also the following changes have been made, on page 49 "griovous" changed to "grievous" (for the accusing of several persons of a grievous crime) 110 "Prostestant" changed to "Protestant" (the custom of modern Protestant Christianity have been) 119 "occurence" changed to "occurrence" (a rare and unfrequent occurrence, coming at intervals) 119 "occured" changed to "occurred" (but that it occurred every Sunday). Otherwise the original was preserved, including archaic spelling and inconsistent hyphenation. 
43651	----	Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). IRISH WITCHCRAFT AND DEMONOLOGY by ST. JOHN D. SEYMOUR, B.D. Author of "The Diocese of Emly," etc. Dublin Hodges, Figgis & Co. Ltd. 104 Grafton Street London Humphrey Milford Amen Corner, E.C. 1913 CONTENTS PAGE CHAPTER I SOME REMARKS ON WITCHCRAFT IN IRELAND 1 CHAPTER II A.D. 1324 DAME ALICE KYTELER, THE SORCERESS OF KILKENNY 25 CHAPTER III A.D. 1223-1583 THE KYTELER CASE AND ITS SURROUNDINGS OF SORCERY AND HERESY--MICHAEL SCOT--THE FOURTH EARL OF DESMOND--JAMES I AND THE IRISH PROPHETESS--A SORCERY ACCUSATION OF 1447-- WITCHCRAFT TRIALS IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY--STATUTES DEALING WITH THE SUBJECT--EYE-BITERS--THE ENCHANTED EARL OF DESMOND 46 CHAPTER IV A.D. 1606-1656 A CLERICAL WIZARD--WITCHCRAFT CURED BY A RELIC--RAISING THE DEVIL IN IRELAND--HOW HE WAS CHEATED BY A DOCTOR OF DIVINITY--STEWART AND THE FAIRIES--REV. ROBERT BLAIR AND THE MAN POSSESSED WITH A DEVIL--STRANGE OCCURRENCES NEAR LIMERICK--APPARITIONS OF MURDERED PEOPLE AT PORTADOWN-- CHARMED LIVES--VISIONS AND PORTENTS--PETITION OF A BEWITCHED ANTRIM MAN IN ENGLAND--ARCHBISHOP USSHER'S PROPHECIES--MR. BROWNE AND THE LOCKED CHEST 77 CHAPTER V A.D. 1661 FLORENCE NEWTON, THE WITCH OF YOUGHAL 105 CHAPTER VI A.D. 1662-1686 THE DEVIL AT DAMERVILLE--AND AT BALLINAGARDE--TAVERNER AND HADDOCK'S GHOST--HUNTER AND THE GHOSTLY OLD WOMAN--A WITCH RESCUED BY THE DEVIL--DR. WILLIAMS AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE IN DUBLIN--APPARITIONS SEEN IN THE AIR IN CO. TIPPERARY--A CLERGYMAN AND HIS WIFE BEWITCHED TO DEATH-- BEWITCHING OF MR. MOOR--THE FAIRY-POSSESSED BUTLER--A GHOST INSTIGATES A PROSECUTION--SUPPOSED WITCHCRAFT IN CO. CORK--THE DEVIL AMONG THE QUAKERS 132 CHAPTER VII A.D. 1688 AN IRISH-AMERICAN WITCH 176 CHAPTER VIII A.D. 1689-1720 PORTENT ON ENTRY OF JAMES II--WITCHCRAFT IN CO. ANTRIM-- TRADITIONAL VERSION OF SAME--EVENTS PRECEDING THE ISLAND-MAGEE WITCH-TRIAL--THE TRIAL ITSELF--DR. FRANCIS HUTCHINSON 194 CHAPTER IX A.D. 1807 TO PRESENT DAY MARY BUTTERS, THE CARNMONEY WITCH--BALLAD ON HER--THE HAND OF GLORY--A JOURNEY THROUGH THE AIR--A "WITCH" IN 1911--SOME MODERN ILLUSTRATIONS OF CATTLE- AND MILK-MAGIC--TRANSFERENCE OF DISEASE BY A _cailleach_-- BURYING THE SHEAF--J.P.'S COMMISSION--CONCLUSION 224 IRISH WITCHCRAFT AND DEMONOLOGY CHAPTER I SOME REMARKS ON WITCHCRAFT IN IRELAND It is said, though we cannot vouch for the accuracy of the statement, that in a certain book on the natural history of Ireland there occurs a remarkable and oft-quoted chapter on Snakes--the said chapter consisting of the words, "There are no snakes in Ireland." In the opinion of most people at the present day a book on Witchcraft in Ireland would be of equal length and similarly worded, except for the inclusion of the Kyteler case in the town of Kilkenny in the first half of the fourteenth century. For, with the exception of that classic incident, modern writers seem to hold that the witch-cult never found a home in Ireland as it did elsewhere. For example, the article on "Witchcraft" in the latest edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ mentions England and Scotland, then passes on to the Continent, and altogether ignores this country; and this is, in general, the attitude adopted by writers on the subject. In view of this it seems very strange that no one has attempted to show why the Green Isle was so especially favoured above the rest of the civilised world, or how it was that it alone escaped the contracting of a disease that not for years but for centuries had infected Europe to the core. As it happens they may spare themselves the labour of seeking for an explanation of Ireland's exemption, for we hope to show that the belief in witchcraft reached the country, and took a fairly firm hold there, though by no means to the extent that it did in Scotland and England. The subject has never been treated of fully before, though isolated notices may be found here and there; this book, however imperfect it may be, can fairly claim to be the first attempt to collect the scattered stories and records of witchcraft in Ireland from many out-of-the-way sources, and to present them when collected in a concise and palatable form. Although the volume may furnish little or nothing new to the history or psychology of witchcraft in general, yet it may also claim to be an unwritten chapter in Irish history, and to show that in this respect a considerable portion of our country fell into line with the rest of Europe. At the outset the plan and scope of this book must be made clear. It will be noticed that the belief in fairies and suchlike beings is hardly touched upon at all, except in those instances where fairy lore and witchcraft become inextricably blended. The reason for this method of treatment is not hard to find. From the Anglo-Norman invasion down the country has been divided into two opposing elements, the Celtic and the English. It is true that on many occasions these coalesced in peace and war, in religion and politics, but as a rule they were distinct, and this became even more marked after the spread of the Reformation. It was therefore in the Anglo-Norman (and subsequently in the Protestant) portion of the country that we find the development of witchcraft along similar lines to those in England or the Continent, and it is with this that we are dealing in this book; the Celtic element had its own superstitious beliefs, but these never developed in this direction. In England and Scotland during the mediæval and later periods of its existence witchcraft was an offence against the laws of God and man; in Celtic Ireland dealings with the unseen were not regarded with such abhorrence, and indeed had the sanction of custom and antiquity. In England after the Reformation we seldom find members of the Roman Catholic Church taking any prominent part in witch cases, and this is equally true of Ireland from the same date. Witchcraft seems to have been confined to the Protestant party, as far as we can judge from the material at our disposal, while it is probable that the existence of the penal laws (active or quiescent) would deter the Roman Catholics from coming into any prominence in a matter which would be likely to attract public attention to itself in such a marked degree. A certain amount of capital has been made by some partisan writers out of this, but to imagine that the ordinary Roman Catholic of, let us say, the seventeenth century, was one whit less credulous or superstitious than Protestant peers, bishops, or judges, would indeed be to form a conception directly at variance with experience and common sense. Both parties had their beliefs, but they followed different channels, and affected public life in different ways. Another point with reference to the plan of this work as indicated by the title needs a few words of explanation. It will be seen by the reader that the volume does not deal solely with the question of witchcraft, though that we have endeavoured to bring into prominence as much as possible, but that tales of the supernatural, of the appearance of ghosts, and of the Devil, are also included, especially in chapters IV and VI. If we have erred in inserting these, we have at least erred in the respectable company of Sir Walter Scott, C. K. Sharpe, and other writers of note. We have included them, partly because they afford interesting reading, and are culled from sources with which the average reader is unacquainted, but principally because they reflect as in a mirror the temper of the age, and show the degree to which every class of Society was permeated with the belief in the grosser forms of the supernatural, and the blind readiness with which it accepted what would at the present day be tossed aside as unworthy of even a cursory examination. This is forcibly brought out in the instance of a lawsuit being undertaken at the instigation of a ghost--a quaint item of legal lore. The judge who adjudicated, or the jury and lawyers who took their respective parts in such a case, would with equal readiness have tried and found guilty a person on the charge of witchcraft; and probably did so far oftener than we are aware of. The question will naturally be asked by the reader--what reason can be offered for Ireland's comparative freedom from the scourge, when the whole of Europe was so sorely lashed for centuries? It is difficult fully to account for it, but the consideration of the following points affords a partial explanation. In the first place Ireland's aloofness may be alleged as a reason. The "Emerald Gem of the Western World" lies far away on the verge of Ocean, remote from those influences which so profoundly affected popular thought in other countries. It is a truism to say that it has been separated from England and the Continent by more than geographical features, or that in many respects, in its ecclesiastical organisation, its literature, and so on, it has developed along semi-independent lines. And so, on account of this remoteness, it would seem to have been prevented from acquiring and assimilating the varying and complex features which went to make up the witchcraft conception. Or, to put it in other words, mediæval witchcraft was a byproduct of the civilisation of the Roman Empire. Ireland's civilisation developed along other and more barbaric lines, and so had no opportunity of assimilating the particular phases of that belief which obtained elsewhere in Europe. Consequently, when the Anglo-Normans came over, they found that the native Celts had no predisposition towards accepting the view of the witch as an emissary of Satan and an enemy of the Church, though they fully believed in supernatural influences of both good and evil, and credited their Bards and Druids with the possession of powers beyond the ordinary. Had this country never suffered a cross-channel invasion, had she been left to work out her destiny unaided and uninfluenced by her neighbours, it is quite conceivable that at some period in her history she would have imbibed the witchcraft spirit, and, with the genius characteristic of her, would have blended it with her own older beliefs, and so would have ultimately evolved a form of that creed which would have differed in many points from what was held elsewhere. As it happens, the English and their successors had the monopoly, and retained it in their own hands; thus the Anglo-Norman invaders may be given the credit of having been the principal means of preventing the growth and spread of witchcraft in Celtic Ireland. Another point arises in connection with the advance of the Reformation in Ireland. Unfortunately the persecution of witches did not cease in the countries where that movement made headway--far from it; on the contrary it was kept up with unabated vigour. Infallibility was transferred from the Church to the Bible; the Roman Catholic persecuted the witch because Supreme Pontiffs had stigmatised her as a heretic and an associate of Satan, while the Protestant acted similarly because Holy Writ contained the grim command "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Thus persecution flourished equally in Protestant and Roman Catholic kingdoms. But in Ireland the conditions were different. We find there a Roman Catholic majority, not racially predisposed towards such a belief, debarred by their religious and political opinions from taking their full share in public affairs, and opposed in every way to the Protestant minority. The consequent turmoil and clash of war gave no opportunity for the witchcraft idea to come to maturity and cast its seeds broadcast; it was trampled into the earth by the feet of the combatants, and, though the minority believed firmly in witchcraft and kindred subjects, it had not sufficient strength to make the belief general throughout the country. A third reason that may be brought forward to account for the comparative immunity of Ireland was the total absence of literature on the subject. The diffusion of books and pamphlets throughout a country or district is one of the recognised ways of propagating any particular creed; the friends and opponents of Christianity have equally recognised the truth of this, and have always utilised it to the fullest extent. Now in England from the sixteenth century we find an enormous literary output relative to witchcraft, the majority of the works being in support of that belief. Many of these were small pamphlets, which served as the "yellow press" of the day; they were well calculated to arouse the superstitious feelings of their readers, as they were written from a sensational standpoint--indeed it seems very probable that the compilers, in their desire to produce a startling catch-penny which would be sure to have a wide circulation, occasionally drew upon their imaginations for their facts. The evil that was wrought by such amongst an ignorant and superstitious people can well be imagined; unbelievers would be converted, while the credulous would be rendered more secure in their credulity. At a later date, when men had become practical enough to question the reality of such things, a literary war took place, and in this "battle of the books" we find such well-known names as Richard Baxter, John Locke, Meric Casaubon, Joseph Glanvil, and Francis Hutchinson, ranged on one side or the other. Thus the ordinary Englishman would have no reasonable grounds for being ignorant of the power of witches, or of the various opinions held relative to them. In Ireland, on the other hand (with the solitary exception of a pamphlet of 1699, which may or may not have been locally printed), there is not the slightest trace of any witchcraft literature being published in the country until we reach the opening years of the nineteenth century. All our information therefore with respect to Ireland comes from incidental notices in books and from sources across the water. We might with reason expect that the important trial of Florence Newton at Youghal in 1661, concerning the historical reality of which there can be no possible doubt, would be immortalised by Irish writers and publishers, but as a matter of fact it is only preserved for us in two London printed books. There is no confusion between cause and effect; books on witchcraft would, naturally, be the result of witch-trials, but in their turn they would be the means of spreading the idea and of introducing it to the notice of people who otherwise might never have shown the least interest in the matter. Thus the absence of this form of literature in Ireland seriously hindered the advance of the belief in (and consequent practice of) witchcraft. When did witchcraft make its appearance in Ireland, and what was its progress therein? It seems probable that this belief, together with certain aspects of fairy lore hitherto unknown to the Irish, and ideas relative to milk and butter magic, may in the main be counted as results of the Anglo-Norman invasion, though it is possible that an earlier instalment of these came in with the Scandinavians. With our present knowledge we cannot trace its active existence in Ireland further back than the Kyteler case of 1324; and this, though it was almost certainly the first occasion on which the evil made itself apparent to the general public, yet seems to have been only the culmination of events that had been quietly and unobtrusively happening for some little time previously. The language used by the Parliament with reference to the case of 1447 would lead us to infer that nothing remarkable or worthy of note in the way of witchcraft or sorcery had occurred in the country during the intervening century and a quarter. For another hundred years nothing is recorded, while the second half of the sixteenth century furnishes us with two cases and a suggestion of several others. It is stated by some writers (on the authority, we believe, of an early editor of _Hudibras_) that during the rule of the Commonwealth Parliament _thirty thousand_ witches were put to death in England. Others, possessing a little common sense, place the number at three thousand, but even this is far too high. Yet it seems to be beyond all doubt that more witches were sent to the gallows at that particular period than at any other in English history. Ireland seems to have escaped scot-free--at least we have not been able to find any instances recorded of witch trials at that time. Probably the terribly disturbed state of the country, the tremendous upheaval of the Cromwellian confiscations, and the various difficulties and dangers experienced by the new settlers would largely account for this immunity. Dr. Notestein[1] shows that the tales of apparitions and devils, of knockings and strange noises, with which English popular literature of the period is filled, are indications of a very overwrought public mind; of similar stories in Ireland, also indicative of a similar state of tension, some examples are given in chapter IV. Though the first half of the seventeenth century is so barren with respect to _witchcraft_, yet it should be noticed that during that period we come across frequent notices of ghosts, apparitions, devils, &c., which forces us to the conclusion that the increase of the belief in such subjects at that time was almost entirely due to the advent of the Cromwellian settlers and the Scotch colonists in Ulster; indeed the beliefs of the latter made the Northern Province a miniature Scotland in this respect. We cannot blame them for this; could anything else be expected from men who, clergy and laity alike, were saturated with the superstitions that were then so prominent in the two countries from which their ranks had been recruited? Thus the seventeenth century was the period _par excellence_ of witchcraft, demonology, and the supernatural in Ireland. The most remarkable witch case of that time, the trial of Florence Newton in 1661, to which allusion has already been made, seems to have been largely influenced by what occurred in England, while the various methods suggested or employed as a test of that old woman's culpability are quite in accordance with the procedure adopted a few years previously by the English witch-finder general, the infamous Matthew Hopkins. After 1711 the period of decadence is reached, while between that date and 1808 nothing has been found, though it may be safely inferred that that blank was filled by incidents similar to the case of Mary Butters and others, as described in the final chapter; and possibly too, as in England, by savage outbursts on the part of the ignorant and credulous multitude. Witchcraft never flourished to any great extent in Ireland, nor did anything ever occur which was worthy of the name of persecution--except perhaps as a sequel to the Kyteler case, and the details of which we fear will never be recovered. The first part of this statement must be taken generally and not pressed too closely, as it is based almost entirely on negative evidence, _i.e._ the absence of information on the subject. England has a lengthy list of books and pamphlets, while Scotland's share in the business may be learnt from the fine series of criminal trials edited by Pitcairn in the Miscellanies of the Abbotsford Club, not to speak of other works; notwithstanding these, many cases in both England and Scotland must have been unrecorded. Ireland can produce nothing like this, for, as we have already shown, all _printed_ notices of Irish witchcraft, with one possible exception, are recorded in books published outside the country. Nevertheless, if all likely sources, both in MS. and print, could be searched, it is highly probable that a much fuller volume than the present one could be written on the subject. The Elizabethan Act was passed on account of cases (recorded and unrecorded) that had arisen in the country; while, human nature being what it is, it seems likely that the very passing of that Statute by the Irish Parliament was in itself a sufficient incentive to the witches to practise their art. No belief really gains ground until it is forbidden; then the martyrs play their part, and there is a consequent increase in the number of the followers. The Act of 1634 shows the opinion that was entertained in the highest circles relative to the baneful influence of witches and the menace their presence was to the safety of the community at large; in this no doubt the effect of the "evil eye," or of the satirical verses of Bards, would be equally classed with witchcraft proper. From various hints and incidental notices, such as in the account of the bewitching of Sir George Pollock, or in Law's statement relative to the case of Mr. Moor, as well as from a consideration of the prevalence of the belief amongst all classes of society, it may be inferred that far more cases of witchcraft occurred in Ireland during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries than one imagines, though in comparison with other countries their numbers would be but small. Future students of old documents may be able to bear out this statement, and to supply information at present unavailable. To deal with the subject of witchcraft in general, with its psychology or with the many strange items which it included, would be out of place in a work exclusively devoted to one particular country, nor indeed could it be adequately dealt with in the space at our disposal; it is necessary, however, to say a few words on the matter in order to show by comparison how much pain and unhappiness the people of Ireland escaped through the non-prevalence of this terrible cult amongst them. In the first place, to judge from the few witch-trials recorded, it may be claimed that torture as a means of extracting evidence was never used upon witches in Ireland (excepting the treatment of Petronilla of Meath by Bishop de Ledrede, which seems to have been carried out in what may be termed a purely unofficial manner). It would be interesting indeed to work through the extant Records for the purpose of seeing how often torture was judicially used on criminals in Ireland, and probably the student who undertakes the investigation will find that this terrible and illogical method of extracting the truth (!) was very seldom utilised. Nor is it at all clear that torture was employed in England in similar trials. Dr. Notestein[2] thinks that there are some traces of it, which cannot however be certainly proved, except in one particular instance towards the end of the reign of James I, though this was for the exceptional crime of practising sorcery (and therefore high treason) against that too credulous king. Was its use ever legalised by Act of Parliament in either country? In Scotland, on the other hand, it was employed with terrible frequency; there was hardly a trial for witchcraft or sorcery but some of the unfortunates incriminated were subjected to this terrible ordeal. Even as late as 1690 torture was judicially applied to extract evidence, for in that year a Jacobite gentleman was questioned by the boots. But Scotland, even at its worst, fades into insignificance before certain parts of the Continent, where torture was used to an extent and degree that can only be termed hellish; the appalling ingenuity displayed in the various methods of applying the "question extraordinary" seems the work of demons rather than of Christians, and makes one blush for humanity. The _repetition_ of torture was forbidden, indeed, but the infamous Inquisitor, James Sprenger, imagined a subtle distinction by which each fresh application was a _continuation_ and not a repetition of the first; one sorceress in Germany suffered this continuation no less than _fifty-six_ times. Nor was the punishment of death by fire for witchcraft or sorcery employed to any extent in Ireland. We have one undoubted instance, and a general hint of some others as a sequel to this. How the two witches were put to death in 1578 we are not told, but probably it was by hanging. Subsequent to the passing of the Act of 1586 the method of execution would have been that for felony. On the Continent the stake was in continual request. In 1514 three hundred persons were burnt alive for this crime at Como. Between 1615 and 1635 more than six thousand sorcerers were burnt in the diocese of Strasburg, while, if we can credit the figures of Bartholomew de Spina, in Lombardy a thousand sorcerers a year were put to death _for the space of twenty-five years_.[3] The total number of persons executed in various ways for this crime has, according to the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, been variously estimated at from one hundred thousand to several millions; if the latter figure be too high undoubtedly the former is far too low. In the persecution of those who practised magical arts no rank or class in society was spared; the noble equally with the peasant was liable to torture and death. This was especially true of the earlier stages of the movement when _sorcery_ rather than _witchcraft_ was the crime committed. For there is a general distinction between the two, though in many instances they are confounded. Sorcery was, so to speak, more of an aristocratic pursuit; the sorcerer was the master of the Devil (until his allotted time expired), and compelled him to do his bidding: the witch generally belonged to the lower classes, embodied in her art many practices which lay on the borderland between good and evil, and was rather the slave of Satan, who almost invariably proved to be a most faithless and unreliable employer. For an illustration from this country of the broad distinction between the two the reader may compare Dame Alice Kyteler with Florence Newton. Anybody might become a victim of the witch epidemic; noblemen, scholars, monks, nuns, titled ladies, bishops, clergy--none were immune from accusation and condemnation. Nay, even a saint once fell under suspicion; in 1595 S. Francis de Sales was accused of having been present at a sorcerers' sabbath, and narrowly escaped being burnt by the populace.[4] Much more might be written in the same strain, but sufficient illustrations have been brought forward to show the reader that in its comparative immunity from witchcraft and its terrible consequences Ireland, generally deemed so unhappy, may be counted the most fortunate country in Europe. In conclusion, we have not considered it necessary to append a bibliography. The books that have been consulted and which have contained no information relative to Ireland are, unfortunately, all too numerous, while those that have proved of use are fully referred to in the text or footnotes of the present volume. We should like however to acknowledge our indebtedness to such general works on the subject as Sir Walter Scott's _Demonology and Witchcraft_, C. K. Sharpe's _History of Witchcraft in Scotland_, John Ashton's _The Devil in Britain and America_, and Professor Wallace Notestein's _History of Witchcraft in England, 1558-1718_ (Washington, 1911); the last three contain most useful bibliographical notices. Much valuable information with respect to the traditional versions of certain incidents which occurred in Ulster has been gleaned from Classon Porter's pamphlet, _Witches, Warlocks, and Ghosts_ (reprinted from _The Northern Whig_ of 1885). For a good bird's-eye view of witchcraft on the Continent from the earliest times we can recommend J. Français' _L'église et la Sorcellerie_ (Paris: Nourry, 1910). CHAPTER II A.D. 1324 DAME ALICE KYTELER, THE SORCERESS OF KILKENNY The history of the proceedings against Dame Alice Kyteler and her confederates on account of their dealings in unhallowed arts is to be found in a MS. in the British Museum, and has been edited amongst the publications of the Camden Society by Thomas Wright, who considers it to be a contemporary narrative. Good modern accounts of it are given in the same learned antiquary's "Narratives of Witchcraft and Sorcery" in _Transactions of the Ossory Archæological Society_, vol. i., and in the Rev. Dr. Carrigan's _History of the Diocese of Ossory_, vol. i. Dame Alice Kyteler (such apparently being her maiden name), the _facile princeps_ of Irish witches, was a member of a good Anglo-Norman family that had been settled in the city of Kilkenny for many years. The coffin-shaped tombstone of one of her ancestors, Jose de Keteller, who died in 128--, is preserved at S. Mary's church; the inscription is in Norman-French and the lettering is Lombardic. The lady in question must have been far removed from the popular conception of a witch as an old woman of striking ugliness, or else her powers of attraction were very remarkable, for she had succeeded in leading four husbands to the altar. She had been married, first, to William Outlawe of Kilkenny, banker; secondly, to Adam le Blund of Callan; thirdly, to Richard de Valle--all of whom she was supposed to have got rid of by poison; and fourthly, to Sir John le Poer, whom it was said she deprived of his natural senses by philtres and incantations. The Bishop of Ossory at this period was Richard de Ledrede, a Franciscan friar, and an Englishman by birth. He soon learnt that things were not as they should be, for when making a visitation of his diocese early in 1324 he found by an Inquisition, in which were five knights and numerous nobles, that there was in the city a band of heretical sorcerers, at the head of whom was Dame Alice. The following charges were laid against them. 1. They had denied the faith of Christ absolutely for a year or a month, according as the object they desired to gain through sorcery was of greater or less importance. During all that period they believed in none of the doctrines of the Church; they did not adore the Body of Christ, nor enter a sacred building to hear mass, nor make use of consecrated bread or holy water. 2. They offered in sacrifice to demons living animals, which they dismembered, and then distributed at cross-roads to a certain evil spirit of low rank, named the Son of Art. 3. They sought by their sorcery advice and responses from demons. 4. In their nightly meetings they blasphemously imitated the power of the Church by fulminating sentence of excommunication, with lighted candles, even against their own husbands, from the sole of their foot to the crown of their head, naming each part expressly, and then concluded by extinguishing the candles and by crying _Fi! Fi! Fi! Amen_. 5. In order to arouse feelings of love or hatred, or to inflict death or disease on the bodies of the faithful, they made use of powders, unguents, ointments, and candles of fat, which were compounded as follows. They took the entrails of cocks sacrificed to demons, certain horrible worms, various unspecified herbs, dead men's nails, the hair, brains, and shreds of the cerements of boys who were buried unbaptized, with other abominations, all of which they cooked, with various incantations, over a fire of oak-logs in a vessel made out of the skull of a decapitated thief. 6. The children of Dame Alice's four husbands accused her before the Bishop of having killed their fathers by sorcery, and of having brought on them such stolidity of their senses that they bequeathed all their wealth to her and her favourite son, William Outlawe, to the impoverishment of the other children. They also stated that her present husband, Sir John le Poer, had been reduced to such a condition by sorcery and the use of powders that he had become terribly emaciated, his nails had dropped off, and there was no hair left on his body. No doubt he would have died had he not been warned by a maid-servant of what was happening, in consequence of which he had forcibly possessed himself of his wife's keys, and had opened some chests in which he found a sackful of horrible and detestable things which he transmitted to the bishop by the hands of two priests. 7. The said dame had a certain demon, an incubus, named Son of Art, or Robin son of Art, who had carnal knowledge of her, and from whom she admitted that she had received all her wealth. This incubus made its appearance under various forms, sometimes as a cat, or as a hairy black dog, or in the likeness of a negro (Æthiops), accompanied by two others who were larger and taller than he, and of whom one carried an iron rod. According to another source the sacrifice to the evil spirit is said to have consisted of nine red cocks, and nine peacocks' eyes. Dame Alice was also accused of having "swept the streets of Kilkenny betweene compleine and twilight, raking all the filth towards the doores of hir sonne William Outlawe, murmuring secretly with hir selfe these words: "To the house of William my sonne Hie all the wealth of Kilkennie towne." On ascertaining the above the Bishop wrote to the Chancellor of Ireland, Roger Outlawe, who was also Prior of the Preceptory of Kilmainham, for the arrest of these persons. Upon this William Outlawe formed a strong party to oppose the Bishop's demands, amongst which were the Chancellor, his near relative, and Sir Arnold le Poer, the Seneschal of Kilkenny, who was probably akin to Dame Alice's fourth husband. The Chancellor in reply wrote to the Bishop stating that a warrant for arrest could not be obtained until a public process of excommunication had been in force for forty days, while Sir Arnold also wrote requesting him to withdraw the case, or else to ignore it. Finding such obstacles placed in his way the Bishop took the matter into his own hands, and cited the Dame, who was then in her son's house in Kilkenny, to appear before him. As might be expected, she ignored the citation, and fled immediately. Foiled in this, he cited her son William for heresy. Upon this Sir Arnold came with William to the Priory of Kells, where De Ledrede was holding a visitation, and besought him not to proceed further in the matter. Finding entreaty useless he had recourse to threats, which he speedily put into execution. As the Bishop was going forth on the following day to continue his visitation he was met on the confines of the town of Kells by Stephen le Poer, bailiff of the cantred of Overk, and a posse of armed men, by whom he was arrested under orders from Sir Arnold, and lodged the same day in Kilkenny jail. This naturally caused tremendous excitement in the city. The place became _ipso facto_ subject to an interdict; the Bishop desired the Sacrament, and it was brought to him in solemn procession by the Dean and Chapter. All the clergy, both secular and religious, flocked from every side to the prison to offer their consolation to the captive, and their feelings were roused to the highest pitch by the preaching of a Dominican, who took as his text, _Blessed are they which are persecuted_, &c. Seeing this, William Outlawe nervously informed Sir Arnold of it, who thereupon decided to keep the Bishop in closer restraint, but subsequently changed his mind, and allowed him to have companions with him day and night, and also granted free admission to all his friends and servants. After De Ledrede had been detained in prison for seventeen days, and Sir Arnold having thereby attained his end, viz. that the day on which William Outlawe was cited to appear should in the meantime pass by, he sent by the hands of his uncle the Bishop of Leighlin (Miler le Poer), and the sheriff of Kilkenny a mandate to the constable of the prison to liberate the Bishop. The latter refused to sneak out like a released felon, but assumed his pontificals, and, accompanied by all the clergy and a throng of people, made his way solemnly to S. Canice's Cathedral, where he gave thanks to God. With a pertinacity we cannot but admire he again cited William Outlawe by public proclamation to appear before him, but before the day arrived the Bishop was himself cited to answer in Dublin for having placed an interdict on his diocese. He excused himself from attending on the plea that the road thither passed through the lands of Sir Arnold, and that in consequence his life would be in danger. De Ledrede had been arrested by Le Poer's orders in Lent, in the year 1324. On Monday following the octave of Easter the Seneschal held his court in Kilkenny, to which entrance was denied the Bishop; but the latter, fully robed, and carrying the Sacrament in a golden vase, made his way into the court-room, and "ascending the tribunal, and reverently elevating the Body of Christ, sought from the Seneschal, Justiciary, and Bailiffs that a hearing should be granted to him." The scene between the two was extraordinary; it is too lengthy to insert, and does not bear to be condensed--suffice it to say that the Seneschal alluded to the Bishop as "that vile, rustic, interloping monk (trutannus), with his dirt (hordys) which he is carrying in his hands," and refused to hear his arguments, or to afford him any assistance. Though we have lost sight for a while of Dame Alice, yet she seems to have been eagerly watching the trend of events, for now we find her having the Bishop summoned to Dublin to answer for having excommunicated her, uncited, unadmonished, and unconvicted of the crime of sorcery. He attended accordingly, and found the King's and the Archbishop's courts against him to a man, but the upshot of the matter was that the Bishop won the day; Sir Arnold was humbled, and sought his pardon for the wrongs he had done him. This was granted, and in the presence of the council and the assembled prelates they mutually gave each other the kiss of peace. Affairs having come to such a satisfactory conclusion the Bishop had leisure to turn his attention to the business that had unavoidably been laid aside for some little time. He directed letters patent, praying the Chancellor to seize the said Alice Kyteler, and also directed the Vicar-General of the Archbishop of Dublin to cite her to respond on a certain day in Kilkenny before the Bishop. But the bird escaped again out of the hand of the fowler. Dame Alice fled a second time, on this occasion from Dublin, where she had been living, and (it is said) made her way to England, where she spent the remainder of her days unmolested. Several of her confederates were subsequently arrested, some of them being apparently in a very humble condition of life, and were committed to prison. Their names were: Robert of Bristol, a clerk, John Galrussyn, Ellen Galrussyn, Syssok Galrussyn, William Payn de Boly, Petronilla of Meath, her daughter Sarah,[5] Alice the wife of Henry Faber, Annota Lange, and Eva de Brownestown. When the Bishop arrived in Kilkenny from Dublin he went direct to the prison, and interviewed the unfortunates mentioned above. They all immediately confessed to the charges laid against them, and even went to the length of admitting other crimes of which no mention had been made; but, according to them, Dame Alice was the mother and mistress of them all. Upon this the Bishop wrote letters on the 6th of June to the Chancellor, and to the Treasurer, Walter de Islep, requesting them to order the Sheriff to attach the bodies of these people and put them in safe keeping. But a warrant was refused, owing to the fact that William Outlawe was a relation of the one and a close friend of the other; so at length the Bishop obtained it through the Justiciary, who also consented to deal with the case when he came to Kilkenny. Before his arrival the Bishop summoned William Outlawe to answer in S. Mary's Church. The latter appeared before him, accompanied by a band of men armed to the teeth; but in no way overawed by this show of force, De Ledrede formally accused him of heresy, of favouring, receiving, and defending heretics, as well as of usury, perjury, adultery, clericide, and excommunications--in all thirty-four items were brought forward against him, and he was permitted to respond on the arrival of the Justiciary. When the latter reached Kilkenny, accompanied by the Chancellor, the Treasurer, and the King's Council, the Bishop in their presence recited the charges against Dame Alice, and with the common consent of the lawyers present declared her to be a sorceress, magician, and heretic, and demanded that she should be handed over to the secular arm and have her goods and chattels confiscated as well. Judging from Friar Clyn's note this took place on the 2nd of July. On the same day the Bishop caused a great fire to be lit in the middle of the town in which he burnt the sackful of magical stock-in-trade, consisting of powders, ointments, human nails, hair, herbs, worms, and other abominations, which the reader will remember he had received from Sir John le Poer at an early stage in the proceedings. Further trouble arose with William Outlawe, who was backed by the Chancellor and Treasurer, but the Bishop finally succeeded in beating him, and compelled him to submit on his bended knees. By way of penance he was ordered to hear at least three masses every day for the space of a year, to feed a certain number of poor people, and to cover with lead the chancel of S. Canice's Cathedral from the belfry eastward, as well as the Chapel of the Blessed Virgin. He thankfully agreed to do this, but subsequently refused to fulfil his obligations, and was thereupon cast into prison. What was the fate of Dame Alice's accomplices, whose names we have given above, is not specifically recorded, except in one particular instance. One of them, Petronilla of Meath, was made the scapegoat for her mistress. The Bishop had her flogged six times, and under the repeated application of this form of torture she made the required confession of magical practices. She admitted the denial of her faith and the sacrificing to Robert, son of Art, and as well that she had caused certain women of her acquaintance to appear as if they had goats' horns. She also confessed that at the suggestion of Dame Alice she had frequently consulted demons and received responses from them, and that she had acted as a "medium" (mediatrix) between her and the said Robert. She declared that although she herself was mistress of the Black Art, yet she was as nothing in comparison with the Dame from whom she had learnt all her knowledge, and that there was no one in the world more skilful than she. She also stated that William Outlawe deserved death as much as she, for he was privy to their sorceries, and for a year and a day had worn the devil's girdle[6] round his body. When rifling Dame Alice's house there was found "a wafer of sacramental bread, having the devil's name stamped thereon instead of Jesus Christ, and a pipe of ointment wherewith she greased a staffe, upon which she ambled and galloped through thicke and thin, when and in what manner she listed." Petronilla was accordingly condemned to be burnt alive, and the execution of this sentence took place with all due solemnity in Kilkenny on 3rd November 1324, which according to Clyn fell on a Sunday. This was the first instance of the punishment of death by fire being inflicted in Ireland for heresy. Whether or not Petronilla's fellow-prisoners were punished is not clear, but the words of the anonymous narrator show us that the burning of that unfortunate wretch was rather the beginning than the end of persecution--that in fact numerous other suspected persons were followed up, some of whom shared her terrible fate, while to others milder forms of punishment were meted out, no doubt in proportion to their guilt. He says: "With regard to the other heretics and sorcerers who belonged to the pestilential society of Robin, son of Art, the order of law being preserved, some of them were publicly burnt to death; others, confessing their crimes in the presence of all the people, in an upper garment, are marked back and front with a cross after they had abjured their heresy, as is the custom; others were solemnly whipped through the town and the market-place; others were banished from the city and diocese; others who evaded the jurisdiction of the Church were excommunicated; while others again fled in fear and were never heard of after. And thus, by the authority of Holy Mother Church, and by the special grace of God, that most foul brood was scattered and destroyed." Sir Arnold le Poer, who had taken such a prominent part in the affair, was next attacked. The Bishop accused him of heresy, had him excommunicated, and committed prisoner to Dublin Castle. His innocency was believed in by most people, and Roger Outlawe, Prior of Kilmainham, who also figures in our story, and who was appointed Justiciary of Ireland in 1328, showed him some kindness, and treated him with humanity. This so enraged the Bishop that he actually accused the Justiciary of heresy. A select committee of clerics vindicated the orthodoxy of the latter, upon which he prepared a sumptuous banquet for his defenders. Le Poer died in prison the same year, 1331, before the matter was finally settled, and as he was under ban of excommunication his body lay unburied for a long period. But ultimately the tables were turned with a vengeance. De Ledrede was himself accused of heresy by his Metropolitan, Alexander de Bicknor, upon which he appealed to the Holy See, and set out in person for Avignon. He endured a long exile from his diocese, suffered much hardship, and had his temporalities seized by the Crown as well. In 1339 he recovered the royal favour, but ten years later further accusations were brought to the king against him, in consequence of which the temporalities were a second time taken up, and other severe measures were threatened. However, by 1356 the storm had blown over; he terminated a lengthy and disturbed episcopate in 1360, and was buried in the chancel of S. Canice's on the north side of the high altar. A recumbent effigy under an ogee-headed canopy is supposed to mark the last resting-place of this turbulent prelate. In the foregoing pages we have only given the barest outline of the story, except that the portions relative to the practice of sorcery have been fully dealt with as pertinent to the purpose of this book, as well as on account of the importance of the case in the annals of Irish witchcraft. The story of Dame Alice Kyteler and Bishop de Ledrede occupies forty pages of the Camden Society's publications, while additional illustrative matter can be obtained from external sources; indeed, if all the scattered material were gathered together and carefully sifted it would be sufficient to make a short but interesting biography of that prelate, and would throw considerable light on the relations between Church and State in Ireland in the fourteenth century. With regard to the tale it is difficult to know what view should be taken of it. Possibly Dame Alice and her associates actually tried to practise magical arts, and if so, considering the period at which it occurred, we certainly cannot blame the Bishop for taking the steps he did. On the other hand, to judge from the analogy of Continental witchcraft, it is to be feared that De Ledrede was to some extent swayed by such baser motives as greed of gain and desire for revenge. He also seems to have been tyrannical, overbearing, and dictatorial; according to him the attitude adopted by the Church should never be questioned by the State, but this view was not shared by his opponents. Though our sympathies do not lie altogether with him, yet to give him his due it must be said that he was as ready to be persecuted as to persecute; he did not hesitate to face an opposition which consisted of some of the highest in the land, nor did fear of attack or imprisonment (which he actually suffered) avail to turn him aside from following the course he had mapped out for himself. It should be noticed that the appointment of De Ledrede to the See of Ossory almost synchronised with the elevation of John XXII to the Papacy. The attitude of that Pope towards magical arts was no uncertain one. He believed himself to be surrounded by enemies who were ever making attempts on his life by modelling images of him in wax, to be subsequently thrust through with pins and melted, no doubt; or by sending him a devil enclosed in a ring, or in various other ways. Consequently in several Bulls he anathematised sorcerers, denounced their ill-deeds, excited the inquisitors against them, and so gave ecclesiastical authorisation to the reality of the belief in magical forces. Indeed, the general expressions used in the Bull _Super illius specula_ might be applied to the actions of Dame Alice and her party. He says of certain persons that "they sacrifice to demons and adore them, making or causing to be made images, rings, &c., with which they draw the evil spirits by their magical art, obtain responses from them, and demand their help in performing their evil designs."[7] Heresy and sorcery were now identified, and the punishment for the former was the same as that for the latter, viz. burning at the stake and confiscation of property. The attitude of this Pontiff evidently found a sympathiser in Bishop de Ledrede, who deemed it necessary to follow the example set by the Head of the Church, with what results we have already shown: thus we find in Ireland a ripple of the wave that swept over Europe at this period. It is very probable, too, that there were many underlying local causes of which we can know little or nothing; the discontent and anger of the disinherited children at the loss of the wealth of which Dame Alice had bereft them by her exercise of "undue influence" over her husbands, family quarrels, private hatreds, and possibly national jealousy helped to bring about one of the strangest series of events in the chequered history of Ireland. CHAPTER III A.D. 1223-1583 THE KYTELER CASE AND ITS SURROUNDINGS OF SORCERY AND HERESY--MICHAEL SCOT--THE FOURTH EARL OF DESMOND--JAMES I AND THE IRISH PROPHETESS--A SORCERY ACCUSATION OF 1447--WITCHCRAFT TRIALS IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY--STATUTES DEALING WITH THE SUBJECT--EYE-BITERS--THE ENCHANTED EARL OF DESMOND In one respect the case of Dame Alice Kyteler stands alone in the history of magical dealings in Ireland prior to the seventeenth century. We have of the entire proceedings an invaluable and contemporary account, or at latest one compiled within a very few years after the death of Petronilla of Meath; while the excitement produced by the affair is shown by the more or less lengthy allusions to it in early writings, such as _The Book of Howth_ (Carew MSS.), the Annals by Friar Clyn, the Chartularies of S. Mary's Abbey (vol. ii.), &c. It is also rendered more valuable by the fact that those who are best qualified to give their opinion on the matter have assured the writer that to the best of their belief no entries with respect to trials for sorcery or witchcraft can be found in the various old Rolls preserved in the Dublin Record Office. But when the story is considered with reference to the following facts it takes on a different signification. On the 29th of September 1317 (Wright says 1320), Bishop de Ledrede held his first Synod, at which several canons were passed, one of which seems in some degree introductory to the events detailed in the preceding chapter. In it he speaks of "a certain new and pestilential sect in our parts, differing from all the faithful in the world, filled with a devilish spirit, more inhuman than heathens or Jews, who pursue the priests and bishops of the Most High God equally in life and death, by spoiling and rending the patrimony of Christ in the diocese of Ossory, and who utter grievous threats against the bishops and their ministers exercising ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and (by various means) attempt to hinder the correction of sins and the salvation of souls, in contempt of God and the Church."[8] From this it would seem that heresy and unorthodoxy had already made its appearance in the diocese. In 1324 the Kyteler case occurred, one of the participants being burnt at the stake, while other incriminated persons were subsequently followed up, some of whom shared the fate of Petronilla. In 1327 Adam _Dubh_, of the Leinster tribe of O'Toole, was burnt alive on College Green for denying the doctrines of the Incarnation and the Holy Trinity, as well as for rejecting the authority of the Holy See.[9] In 1335 Pope Benedict XII wrote a letter to King Edward III, in which occurs the following passage: "It has come to our knowledge that while our venerable brother, Richard, Bishop of Ossory, was visiting his diocese, there appeared in the midst of his catholic people men who were heretics together with their abettors, some of whom asserted that Jesus Christ was a mere man and a sinner, and was justly crucified for His own sins; others after having done homage and offered sacrifice to demons, thought otherwise of the sacrament of the Body of Christ than the Catholic Church teaches, saying that the same venerable sacrament is by no means to be worshipped; and also asserting that they are not bound to obey or believe the decrees, decretals, and apostolic mandates; in the meantime, consulting demons according to the rites of those sects among the Gentiles and Pagans, they despise the sacraments of the Catholic Church, and draw the faithful of Christ after them by their superstitions." As no Inquisitors of heresy have been appointed in Ireland, he begs the King to give prompt assistance to the Bishop and other Prelates in their efforts to punish the aforesaid heretics.[10] If the above refer to the Kyteler case it came rather late in the day; but it is quite possible, in view of the closing words of the anonymous narrator, that it has reference rather to the following up of the dame's associates, a process that must have involved a good deal of time and trouble, and in which no doubt many unhappy creatures were implicated. Again, in 1353, two men were tried at Bunratty in co. Clare by Roger Cradok, Bishop of Waterford, for holding heretical opinions (or for offering contumely to the Blessed Virgin), and were sentenced to be burnt.[11] The above are almost the only (if not the only) instances known of the punishment of death by fire being inflicted in Ireland for heresy. From a consideration of the facts here enumerated it would seem as if a considerable portion of Ireland had been invaded by a wave of heresy in the first half of the fourteenth century, and that this manifested itself under a twofold form--first, in a denial of the cardinal doctrines of the Church and a consequent revolt against her jurisdiction; and secondly, in the use of magical arts, incantations, charms, familiar spirits, _et hoc genus omne_. In this movement the Kyteler case was only an episode, though obviously the most prominent one; while its importance was considerably enhanced, if not exaggerated out of all due proportion, by the aggressive attitude adopted by Bishop de Ledrede against the lady and her companions, as well as by his struggles with Outlawe and Le Poer, and their powerful backers, the Chancellor and Treasurer of Ireland. The anonymous writer, who was plainly a cleric, and a partisan of the Bishop's, seems to have compiled his narration not so much on account of the incident of sorcery as to show the courage and perseverance of De Ledrede, and as well to make manifest the fact that the Church should dictate to the State, not the State to the Church. It appears quite possible, too, that other separate cases of sorcery occurred in Ireland at this period, though they had no historian to immortalise them, and no doubt in any event would have faded into insignificance in comparison with the doings of Dame Kyteler and her "infernal crew." From this on we shall endeavour to deal with the subject as far as possible in chronological order. It is perhaps not generally known that at one time an Irish See narrowly escaped (to its misfortune, be it said) having a magician as its Chief Shepherd. In 1223 the Archbishopric of Cashel became vacant, upon which the Capitular Body elected as their Archbishop the then Bishop of Cork, to whom the temporalities were restored in the following year. But some little time prior to this the Pope had set aside the election and "provided" a nominee of his own, one Master M. Scot, to fill the vacancy: he however declined the proffered dignity on the ground that he was ignorant of the Irish language. This papal candidate was none other than the famous Michael Scot, reputed a wizard of such potency that-- "When in Salamanca's cave Him listed his magic wand to wave The bells would ring in Notre Dame." Scot had studied successively at Oxford and Paris (where he acquired the title of "mathematicus"); he then passed to Bologna, thence to Palermo, and subsequently continued his studies at Toledo. His refusal of the See of Cashel was an intellectual loss to the Irish Church, for he was so widely renowned for his varied and extensive learning that he was credited with supernatural powers; a number of legends grew up around his name which hid his real merit, and transformed the man of science into a magician. In the Border country traditions of his magical power are common. Boccaccio alludes to "a great master in necromancy, called Michael Scot," while Dante places him in the eighth circle of Hell. "The next, who is so slender in the flanks, Was Michael Scot, who of a verity Of magical illusions knew the game."[12] Another man to whom magical powers were attributed solely on account of his learning was Gerald, the fourth Earl of Desmond,[13] styled the Poet, who died rather mysteriously in 1398. The Four Masters in their Annals describe him as "a nobleman of wonderful bounty, mirth, cheerfulness of conversation, charitable in his deeds, easy of access, a witty and ingenious composer of Irish poetry, a learned and profound chronicler." No legends are extant of his magical deeds. King James I of Scotland, whose severities against his nobles had aroused their bitter resentment, was barbarously assassinated at Perth in 1437 by some of their supporters, who were aided and abetted by the aged Duke of Atholl. From a contemporary account of this we learn that the monarch's fate was predicted to him by an Irish prophetess or witch; had he given ear to her message he might have escaped with his life. We modernise the somewhat difficult spelling, but retain the quaint language of the original. "The king, suddenly advised, made a solemn feast of the Christmas at Perth, which is clept Saint John's Town, which is from Edinburgh on the other side of the Scottish sea, the which is vulgarly clept the water of Lethe. In the midst of the way there arose a woman of Ireland, that clept herself as a soothsayer. The which anon as she saw the king she cried with loud voice, saying thus: 'My lord king, and you pass this water you shall never turn again alive.' The king hearing this was astonied of her words; for but a little before he had read in a prophecy that in the self same year the king of Scots should be slain: and therewithal the king, as he rode, cleped to him one of his knights, and gave him in commandment to turn again to speak with that woman, and ask of her what she would, and what thing she meant with her loud crying. And she began, and told him as ye have heard of the King of Scots if he passed that water. As now the king asked her, how she knew that. And she said, that Huthart told her so. 'Sire,' quoth he, 'men may "calant" ye take no heed of yon woman's words, for she is but a drunken fool, and wot not what she saith'; and so with his folk passed the water clept the Scottish sea, towards Saint John's town." The narrator states some dreams ominous of James's murder, and afterwards proceeds thus: "Both afore supper, and long after into quarter of the night, in the which the Earl of Atholl (Athetelles) and Robert Steward were about the king, where they were occupied at the playing of the chess, at the tables, in reading of romances, in singing and piping, in harping, and in other honest solaces of great pleasance and disport. Therewith came the said woman of Ireland, that clept herself a divineress, and entered the king's court, till that she came straight to the king's chamber-door, where she stood, and abode because that it was shut. And fast she knocked, till at the last the usher opened the door, marvelling of that woman's being there that time of night, and asking her what she would. 'Let me in, sir,' quoth she, 'for I have somewhat to say, and to tell unto the king; for I am the same woman that not long ago desired to have spoken with him at the Leith, when he should pass the Scottish sea.' The usher went in and told him of this woman. 'Yea,' quoth the king, 'let her come tomorrow'; because that he was occupied with such disports at that time him let not to hear her as then. The usher came again to the chamber-door to the said woman, and there he told her that the king was busy in playing, and bid her come soon again upon the morrow. 'Well,' said the woman, 'it shall repent you all that ye will not let me speak now with the king.' Thereat the usher laughed, and held her but a fool, charging her to go her way, and therewithal she went thence." Her informant "Huthart" was evidently a familiar spirit who was in attendance on her.[14] Considering the barrenness of Irish records on the subject of sorcery and witchcraft it affords us no small satisfaction to find the following statement in the Statute Rolls of the Parliament[15] for the year 1447. It consists of a most indignantly-worded remonstrance from the Lords and Commons, which was drawn forth by the fact that some highly-placed personage had been accused of practising sorcery with the intent to do grievous harm to his enemy. When making it the remonstrants appear to have forgotten, or perhaps, like Members of Parliament in other ages, found it convenient to forget for the nonce the Kyteler incident of the previous century. Of the particular case here alluded to unfortunately no details are given, nor is any clue for obtaining them afforded us. The remonstrance runs as follows: "Also at the prayer of John, Archbishop of Armagh (and others). That whereas by the subtle malice and malicious suits of certain persons slandering a man of rank this land was entirely slandered, and still is in such slanderous matters as never were known in this land before, as in ruining or destroying any man by sorcery or necromancy, the which they think and believe impossible to be performed in art--It is ordained and agreed by authority of this present parliament, with the entire assent of the lords spiritual and temporal and commons of said parliament, that our lord the king be certified of the truth in this matter, in avoidance of the slander of this land in common, asserting that no such art was attempted at any time in this land, known or rumoured among the people, nor any opinion had or entertained of the same by the lay men in this land until now." It seems likely that the accusation was prompted by personal enmity, and was groundless in fact; but the annals of witchcraft show that such an indictment could prove a most terrible weapon in the hands of unscrupulous persons. With respect to the above we learn that Ireland was coming into line with England, for in the latter country during the fifteenth century charges of sorcery were frequently raised against persons of eminence by their political adversaries. One of the most celebrated cases of the kind occurred only six years prior to the above, in 1441, that of the Duchess of Gloucester in the reign of Henry VI. Nothing further on the subject is recorded until the year 1544, under which date we find the following entry in the table of the red council book of Ireland: "A letter to Charles FitzArthur for sendinge a witch to the Lord Deputie to be examined." This note is a most tantalising one. The red council book has been lost, but a succinct "table" of its contents, from which the above has been extracted, and which was apparently compiled by Sir William Usher, has been preserved in Add. MSS. 1792, and published in Hist. MSS. Comm. 15th Report, appendix, part 3, but an examination of the original MS. reveals nothing in addition to the above passage; so, until the lost book is discovered, we must remain in ignorance with respect to the doings of this particular witch. The next notice of witchcraft in Ireland occurs in the year 1578, when a witch-trial took place at Kilkenny, though here again, unfortunately, no details have been preserved. In the November of that year sessions were held there by the Lord Justice Drury and Sir Henry Fitton, who, in their letter to the Privy Council on the 20th of the same month, inform that Body that upon arriving at the town "the jail being full we caused sessions immediately to be held. Thirty-six persons were executed, amongst whom were some good ones, _a blackamoor and two witches_ by natural law, for that we find no law to try them by in this realm."[16] It is easy to see why the witches were put to death, but the reason for the negro's execution is not so obvious. It can hardly have been for the colour of his skin, although no doubt a black man was as much a _rara avis_ in the town of Kilkenny as a black swan. Had the words been written at the time the unfortunate negro might well have exclaimed, though in vain, to his judges: "Mislike me not for my complexion-- The shadowed livery of the burning sun." Or could it have been that he was the unhappy victim of a false etymology! For in old writers the word "necromancy" is spelt "nigromancy," as if divination was practised through the medium of _negroes_ instead of _dead persons_; indeed in an old vocabulary of 1475 "Nigromantia" is defined as "divinatio facta _per nigros_." He may therefore have been suspected of complicity with the two witches. As yet the "natural law" held sway in Ireland, but very soon this country was to be fully equipped with a Statute all to itself. Two Statutes against witchcraft had already been passed in England, one in 1541, which was repealed six years later, and a second in 1562. Partly no doubt on account of the Kilkenny case of 1578, and partly to place Ireland on the same footing as England, a Statute was passed by the Irish Parliament in 1586. Shorn of much legal verbiage the principal points of it may be gathered from the following extracts: "Where at this present there is no ordinarie ne condigne punishment provided against the practices of the wicked offences of conjurations, and of invocations of evill spirites, and of sorceries, enchauntments, charms, and witchcrafts, whereby manie fantasticall and devilish persons have devised and practised invocations and conjurations of evill and wicked spirites, and have used and practised witchcrafts, enchauntments, charms, and sorceries, to the destruction of the persons and goods of their neighbours, and other subjects of this realm, and for other lewde and evill intents and purposes, contrary to the laws of Almighty God, to the peril of their owne soules, and to the great infamie and disquietnesse of this realm. For reformation thereof, be it enacted by the Queen's Majestie, with the assent of the lords spirituall and temporall and the commons in this present Parliament assembled. "1. That if any person or persons after the end of three months next, and immediately after the end of the last session of this present parliament, shall use, practise, or exercise any witchcraft, enchauntment, charme, or sorcery, whereby any person shall happen to be killed or destroied, that then as well any such offender or offenders in invocations and conjurations, as is aforesaid, their aydors or councelors ... being of the said offences lawfully convicted and attainted, shall suffer paines of death as a felon or felons, and shall lose the privilege and benefit of clergie and sanctuarie; saving to the widow of such person her title of dower, and also the heires and successors of such a person all rights, titles, &c., as though no such attaynder had been made. "2. If any persons (after the above period) shall use, practise, or exercise any witchcraft, enchauntment, charme, or sorcery, whereby any person or persons shall happen to be wasted, consumed, or lamed, in his or their bodie or member, or whereby any goods or cattels of any such person shall be destroyed, wasted, or impaired, then every such offender shall for the first offence suffer imprisonment by the space of one yeare without bayle or maineprise, and once in every quarter of the said yeare, shall in some market towne, upon the market day, or at such time as any faire shall be kept there, stand openlie in the pillorie for the space of sixe houres, and shall there openly confesse his or theire errour and offence, and for the second offence shall suffer death as a felon, saving, &c. (as in clause 1). "3. Provided always, that if the offender in any of the cases aforesaid, for which the paines of death shall ensue, shall happen to be a peer of this realm: then his triall therein to be had by his peers, as is used in cases of felony and treason, and not otherwise. "4. And further, to the intent that all manner of practice, use, or exercise of witchcraft, enchauntment, charme, or sorcery, should be from henceforth utterly avoide, abolished, and taken away; be it enacted by the authority of this present Parliament that if any person or persons ... shall take upon them by witchcraft, &c., to tell or declare in what place any treasure of gold or silver shall or might be found or had in the earth or other secret places, or where goods or things lost or stollen should be found or become, or shall use or practice any sorcery, &c., to the intent to provoke any person to unlawful love (for the first offence to be punished as in clause 2), but if convicted a second time shall forfeit unto the Queen's Majesty all his goods and chattels, and suffer imprisonment during life." On the whole, considering the temper of the time, this Statute was exceedingly mild. It made no provision whatsoever for the use of torture to extract evidence, nor indeed did it offer any particular encouragement to the witch hunter, while the manner of inflicting the death penalty was precisely that for felony, viz. hanging, drawing, and quartering for men, and burning (preceded by strangulation) for women--sufficiently unpleasant, no doubt, but far more merciful than burning alive at the stake. In some way Ireland was fortunate enough to escape the notice of that keen witch hunter, King James I and VI; had it been otherwise we have little doubt but that this country would have contributed its share to the list of victims in that monarch's reign. The above was therefore the only Statute against witchcraft passed by the Irish Parliament; it is said that it was never repealed, and so no doubt is in force at the present day. Another Act of the Parliament of Ireland, passed in 1634, and designed to facilitate the administration of justice, makes mention of witchcraft, and it is there held to be one of the recognised methods by which one man could take the life of another. "Forasmuch as the most necessary office and duty of law is to preserve and save the life of man, and condignly to punish such persons that unlawfully or wilfully murder, slay, or destroy men ... and where it often happeneth that a man is feloniously strucken in one county, and dieth in another county, in which case it hath not been found by the laws of this realm that any sufficient indictment thereof can be taken in any of the said two counties.... For redress and punishment of such offences ... be it enacted ... that where any person shall be traiterously or feloniously stricken, poysoned, or _bewitched_ in one county (and die in another, or out of the kingdom, &c.), that an indictment thereof found by jurors in the county where the death shall happen, shall be as good and effectual in the law as if, &c. &c." Before passing from the subject we may note a curious allusion to a mythical Act of Parliament which was intended to put a stop to a certain lucrative form of witchcraft. It is gravely stated by the writer of a little book entitled _Beware the Cat_[17] (and by Giraldus Cambrensis before him), that Irish witches could turn wisps of hay, straw, &c. into red-coloured pigs, which they dishonestly sold in the market, but which resumed their proper shape when crossing running water. To prevent this it is stated that the Irish Parliament passed an Act forbidding the purchase of red swine. We regret to say, however, that no such interesting Act is to be found in the Statute books. The belief in the power of witches to inflict harm on the cattle of those whom they hated, of which we have given some modern illustrations in the concluding chapter, was to be found in Elizabethan times in this country. Indeed if we are to put credence in the following passage from Reginald Scot, quoted by Thomas Ady in his _Perfect Discovery of Witches_ (London, 1661), a certain amount of witch persecution arose with reference to this point, possibly as a natural outcome of the Statute of 1586. "Master Scot in his _Discovery_ telleth us, that our English people in Ireland, whose posterity were lately barbarously cut off, were much given to this Idolatry [belief in witches] in the Queen's time [Elizabeth], insomuch that there being a Disease amongst their Cattel that grew blinde, being a common Disease in that Country, they did commonly execute people for it, calling them _eye-biting_ Witches." From incidental notices in writers of the latter half of the sixteenth century it would seem at first sight as if witchcraft, as we are treating of it in this work, was very prevalent in Ireland at this period. Barnabe Rich says in his description of Ireland: "The Irish are wonderfully addicted to give credence to the prognostications of Soothsayers and Witches." Stanihurst writes that in his time (1547-1618) there were many sorcerers amongst the Irish. A note in Dr. Hanmer's Collection speaks of "Tyrone his witch the which he hanged."[18] But these statements seem rather to have reference to the point of view from which the English writers regarded the native bards, as well as the "wise women" who foretold the future; probably "Tyrone" put his "witch" to death, not through abhorrence of her unhallowed doings, but in a fit of passion because her interpretation of coming events, by which he may have allowed himself to be guided, turned out wrongly. We have already alluded to Gerald, the fourth Earl of Desmond. His namesake, the sixteenth holder of the title, commonly known as the "Great Earl," who was betrayed and killed in 1583, has passed from the region of history to that of mythology, as he is credited with being the husband (or son) of a goddess. Not many miles from the city of Limerick is a lonely, picturesque lake, Lough Gur, which was included in his extensive possessions, and at the bottom of which he is supposed to lie enchanted. According to the legend[19] he was a very potent magician, and usually resided in a castle which was built on a small island in that lake. To this he brought his bride, a young and beautiful girl, whom he loved with a too fond love, for she succeeded in prevailing upon him to gratify her selfish desires, with fatal results. One day she presented herself in the chamber in which her husband exercised his forbidden art, and begged him to show her the wonders of his evil science. With the greatest reluctance he consented, but warned her that she must prepare herself to witness a series of most frightful phenomena, which, once commenced, could neither be abridged nor mitigated, while if she spoke a single word during the proceedings the castle and all it contained would sink to the bottom of the lake. Urged on by curiosity she gave the required promise, and he commenced. Muttering a spell as he stood before her, feathers sprouted thickly over him, his face became contracted and hooked, a corpse-like smell filled the air, and winnowing the air with beats of its heavy wings a gigantic vulture rose in his stead, and swept round and round the room as if on the point of pouncing upon her. The lady controlled herself through this trial, and another began. The bird alighted near the door, and in less than a minute changed, she saw not how, into a horribly deformed and dwarfish hag, who, with yellow skin hanging about her face, and cavernous eyes, swung herself on crutches towards the lady, her mouth foaming with fury, and her grimaces and contortions becoming more and more hideous every moment, till she rolled with a fearful yell on the floor in a horrible convulsion at the lady's feet, and then changed into a huge serpent, which came sweeping and arching towards her with crest erect and quivering tongue. Suddenly, as it seemed on the point of darting at her, she saw her husband in its stead, standing pale before her, and with his finger on his lips enforcing the continued necessity of silence. He then placed himself at full length on the floor and began to stretch himself out, longer and longer, until his head nearly reached to one end of the vast room and his feet to the other. This utterly unnerved her. She gave a wild scream of horror, whereupon the castle and all in it sank to the bottom of the lake. Once in seven years the great Earl rises, and rides by night on his white horse round Lough Gur. The steed is shod with silver shoes, and when these are worn out the spell that holds the Earl will be broken, and he will regain possession of his vast estates and semi-regal power. In the opening years of the nineteenth century there was living a man named Teigue O'Neill, who claimed to have seen him on the occasion of one of his septennial appearances under the following curious conditions. O'Neill was a blacksmith, and his forge stood on the brow of a hill overlooking the lake, on a lonely part of the road to Cahirconlish. One night, when there was a bright moon, he was working very late and quite alone. In one of the pauses of his work he heard the ring of many hoofs ascending the steep road that passed his forge, and, standing in his doorway, he saw a gentleman on a white horse, who was dressed in a fashion the like of which he had never seen before. This man was accompanied by a mounted retinue, in similar dress. They seemed to be riding up the hill at a gallop, but the pace slackened as they drew near, and the rider of the white horse, who seemed from his haughty air to be a man of rank, drew bridle, and came to a halt before the smith's door. He did not speak, and all his train were silent, but he beckoned to the smith, and pointed down at one of the horse's hoofs. Teigue stooped and raised it, and held it just long enough to see that it was shod with a silver shoe, which in one place was worn as thin as a shilling. Instantly his situation was made apparent to him by this sign, and he recoiled with a terrified prayer. The lordly rider, with a look of pain and fury, struck at him suddenly with something that whistled in the air like a whip; an icy streak seemed to traverse his body, and at the same time he saw the whole cavalcade break into a gallop, and disappear down the hill. It is generally supposed that for the purpose of putting an end to his period of enchantment the Earl endeavours to lead someone on to first break the silence and speak to him; but what, in the event of his succeeding, would be the result, or would befall the person thus ensnared, no one knows. In a letter[20] written in the year 1640, the Earl assumes a different appearance. We learn from it that as a countryman was on his way to the ancient and celebrated fair of Knockaney, situated a few miles from Lough Gur, he met "a gentleman standing in the waye, demanding if he would sell his horse. He answered, yea, for £5. The gentleman would give him but £4, 10_s._, saying he would not get so much at the ffaire. The fellow went to the ffaire, could not get so much money, and found the gentleman on his return in the same place, who proffered the same money. The fellow accepting of it, the other bid him come in and receive his money. He carried him into a fine spacious castle, payed him his money every penny, and showed him the fairest black horse that ever was seene, and told him that that horse was the Earl of Desmond, and that he had three shoes alreadye, when he hath the fourthe shoe, which should be very shortlie, then should the Earl be as he was before, thus guarded with many armed men conveying him out of the gates. The fellow came home, but never was any castle in that place either before or since." The local variant of the legend states that the seller of the horse was a Clare man, and that he went home after having been paid in gold the full amount of a satisfactory bargain, but on the following morning found to his great mortification, that instead of the gold coins he had only a pocketful of ivy leaves. Readers of Victor Hugo's _Notre Dame_ will recall the incident of the _écu_ that (apparently) was transformed by magic into a withered leaf. Similar tales of horse-dealing with mysterious strangers are told in Scotland in connection with the celebrated Thomas the Rhymer, of Erceldoune. CHAPTER IV A.D. 1606-1656 A CLERICAL WIZARD--WITCHCRAFT CURED BY A RELIC--RAISING THE DEVIL IN IRELAND--HOW HE WAS CHEATED BY A DOCTOR OF DIVINITY--STEWART AND THE FAIRIES--REV. ROBERT BLAIR AND THE MAN POSSESSED WITH A DEVIL--STRANGE OCCURRENCES NEAR LIMERICK--APPARITIONS OF MURDERED PEOPLE AT PORTADOWN--CHARMED LIVES--VISIONS AND PORTENTS--PETITION OF A BEWITCHED ANTRIM MAN IN ENGLAND--ARCHBISHOP USHER'S PROPHECIES--MR. BROWNE AND THE LOCKED CHEST An interesting trial of a clergyman for the practice of unhallowed arts took place early in 1606--interesting and valuable, if for no other reason than that it is the first instance of such a case being discovered in the Rolls at the Record Office (not counting those of the Parliament of 1447), though we hope that it will not prove to be a unique entry, but rather the earnest of others. Shorn of legal redundancies it runs as follows: "Inquiry taken before our lord the King at the King's Court the Saturday next after the three weeks of Easter in the 6th year of James I by the oath of upright and lawful men of the County of Louth. Who say, that John Aston, late of Mellifont, Co. Louth, clerk, not having the fear of God before his eyes, but being wholly seduced by the devil, on December 1st at Mellifont aforesaid, and on divers other days and places, wickedly and feloniously used, practised, and exercised divers invocations and conjurings of wicked and lying spirits with the intent and purpose that he might find and recover a certain silver cup formerly taken away at Mellifont aforesaid, and also that he might understand where and in what region the most wicked traitor Hugh, Earl of Tyrone, then was, and what he was contriving against the said lord the King and the State of this kingdom of Ireland, and also that he might find out and obtain divers treasures of gold and silver concealed in the earth at Mellifont aforesaid and at Cashel in the county of the Cross of Tipperary, feloniously and against the peace of the said lord the King. It is to be known that the aforesaid John was taken, and being a prisoner in the Castle of the City of Dublin by warrant of the lord King was sent into England, therefore further proceedings shall cease."[21] His ultimate fate is not known; nor is it easy to see why punishment was not meted out to him in Ireland, as he had directly contravened section 4 of the Elizabethan Act. Possibly the case was unique, and so King James may have been anxious to examine in person such an interesting specimen. If so, heaven help the poor parson in the grip of such a witch hunter. In the year 1609 there comes from the County of Tipperary a strange story of magical spells being counteracted by the application of a holy relic; this is preserved for us in that valuable monastic record, the _Triumphalia S. Crucis_. At Holy Cross Abbey, near Thurles, there was preserved for many years with the greatest veneration a supposed fragment of the True Cross, which attracted vast numbers of people, and by which it was said many wonderful miracles were worked. Amongst those that came thither in that year was "Anastasia Sobechan, an inhabitant of the district of Callan (co. Kilkenny), tortured by magical spells (veneficis incantationibus collisa), who at the Abbey, in presence of the Rev. Lord Abbot Bernard [Foulow], placed a girdle round her body that had touched the holy relic. Suddenly she vomited small pieces of cloth and wood, and for a whole month she spat out from her body such things. The said woman told this miracle to the Rev. Lord Abbot while she was healed by the virtue of the holy Cross. This he took care to set down in writing." That most diligent gleaner of things strange and uncommon, Mr. Robert Law, to whom we are deeply indebted for much of the matter in this volume, informs us in his _Memorialls_ that in the first half of the seventeenth century there was to be found in Ireland a celebrated Doctor of Divinity, in Holy Orders of the Episcopal Church, who possessed extreme adroitness in raising the Devil--a process that some would have us believe to be commonly practised in Ireland at the present day by persons who have no pretensions to a knowledge of the Black Art! Mr. Law also gives the _modus operandi_ at full length. A servant-girl in the employment of Major-General Montgomerie at Irvine in Scotland was accused of having stolen some silverwork. "The lass being innocent takes it ill, and tells them, If she should raise the Devil she should know who took these things." Thereupon, in order to summon that Personage she went into a cellar, "takes the Bible with her, and draws a circle about her, and turns a riddle on end from south to north, or from the right to the left hand [_i.e._ contrary to the path of the sun in the heavens], having in her right hand nine feathers which she pulled out of the tail of a black cock, and having read the 51st [Psalm?] forwards, she reads backwards chapter ix., verse 19, of the Book of Revelation." Upon this the Devil appeared to her, and told her who was the guilty person. She then cast three of the feathers at him, and bade him return to the place from whence he came. This process she repeated three times, until she had gained all the information she desired; she then went upstairs and told her mistress, with the result that the goods were ultimately recovered. But escaping Scylla she fell into Charybdis; her uncanny practices came to the ears of the authorities, and she was apprehended. When in prison she confessed that she had learnt this particular branch of the Black Art in the house of Dr. Colville in Ireland, who habitually practised it. That instructor of youth in such un-christian practices, the Rev. Alexander Colville, D.D., was ordained in 1622 and subsequently held the vicarage of Carnmoney, the prebend of Carncastle, and the Precentorship of Connor. He was possessed of considerable wealth, with which he purchased the Galgorm estate, on which he resided; this subsequently passed into the Mountcashel family through the marriage of his great granddaughter with Stephen Moore, first Baron Kilworth and Viscount Mountcashel. Where Dr. Colville got the money to purchase so large an estate no one could imagine, and Classon Porter in his useful pamphlet relates for us the manner in which popular rumour solved the problem. It was said that he had sold himself to the Devil, and that he had purchased the estate with the money his body and soul had realised. Scandal even went further still, and gave the exact terms which Dr. Colville had made with the Evil One. These were, that the Devil was at once to give the Doctor his hat full of gold, and that the latter was in return, at a distant but specified day, to deliver himself body and soul to the Devil. The appointed place of meeting was a lime-kiln; the Devil may have thought that this was a delicate compliment to him on account of the peculiarly _homelike_ atmosphere of the spot, but the Doctor had different ideas. The Devil produced the gold, whereupon Dr. Colville produced a hat _with a wide slit in the crown_, which he boldly held over the empty kiln-pit, with the result that by the time the terms of the bargain were literally complied with, a very considerable amount of gold lay at the Doctor's disposal, which he prudently used to advance his worldly welfare. So far, so good. But there are two sides to every question. Years rolled by, bringing ever nearer and nearer the time at which the account had to be settled, and at length the fatal day dawned. The Devil arrived to claim his victim, and found him sitting in his house reading his Bible by the light of a candle, whereupon he directed him to come along with him. The Doctor begged that he might not be taken away until the candle, by which he was reading, was burned out. To this the Devil assented, whereupon Dr. Colville promptly extinguished the candle, and putting it between the leaves of the Bible locked it up in the chest where he kept his gold. The candle was thus deposited in a place of safety where there was no danger of any person coming across it, and thus of being the innocent cause of the Doctor's destruction. It is even said that he gave orders that the candle should be put into his coffin and buried with him. So, we may presume, Dr. Colville evaded the payment of his debt. Our readers may perchance wonder why such stories as the above should have become connected with the reverend gentleman, and an explanation is not hard to be found. Dr. Colville was a well-known divine, possessed of great wealth (inherited lawfully, we may presume), and enjoyed considerable influence in the country-side. At this time Ulster was overrun by triumphant Presbyterianism, which the Doctor, as a firm upholder of Episcopacy, opposed with all his might, and thereupon was spoken of with great acerbity by his opponents. It is not too uncharitable, therefore, to assume that these stories originated with some member of that body, who may well have believed that such had actually happened. For the next instance of witchcraft and the supernatural in connection with Ireland we are compelled to go beyond the confines of our country. Though in this the connection with the Green Isle is slight, yet it is of interest as affording an example of that blending of fairy lore with sorcery which is not an uncommon feature of Scottish witchcraft-trials. In the year 1613 a woman named Margaret Barclay, of Irvine in Scotland, was accused of having caused her brother-in-law's ship to be cast away by magical spells. A certain strolling vagabond and juggler, John Stewart, was apprehended as her accomplice; he admitted (probably under torture) that Margaret had applied to him to teach her some magic arts in order that "she might get gear, kye's milk, love of man, her heart's desire on such persons as had done her wrong." Though he does not appear to have granted her request, yet he gave detailed information as to the manner in which he had gained the supernatural power and knowledge with which he was credited. "It being demanded of him by what means he professed himself to have knowledge of things to come, the said John confessed that the space of twenty-six years ago, he being travelling on All-Hallow Even night between the towns of Monygoif and Clary, in Galway, he met with the King of the Fairies and his company, and that the King gave him a stroke with a white rod over the forehead, which took from him the power of speech and the use of one eye, which he wanted for the space of three years. He declared that the use of speech and eyesight was restored to him by the King of Fairies and his company on a Hallowe'en night at the town of Dublin." At his subsequent meetings with the fairy band he was taught all his knowledge. The spot on which he was struck remained impervious to pain although a pin was thrust into it. The unfortunate wretch was cast into prison, and there committed suicide by hanging himself from the "cruik" of the door with his garter or bonnet-string, and so "ended his life miserably with the help of the devil his master."[22] A tale slightly resembling portion of the above comes from the north of Ireland a few years later. "It's storied, and the story is true," says Robert Law in his _Memorialls_,[23] "of a godly man in Ireland, who lying one day in the fields sleeping, he was struck with dumbness and deafness. The same man, during this condition he was in, could tell things, and had the knowledge of things in a strange way, which he had not before; and did, indeed, by signs make things known to others which they knew not. Afterwards he at length, prayer being made for him by others, came to the use of his tongue and ears; but when that knowledge of things he had in his deaf and dumb condition ceased, and when he was asked how he had the knowledge of these things he made signs of, he answered he had that knowledge when dumb, but how and after what manner he knew not, only he had the impression thereof in his spirit. This story was related by a godly minister, Mr. Robert Blair, to Mr. John Baird, who knew the truth of it." The Rev. Robert Blair, M.A., was a celebrated man, if for no other reason than on account of his disputes with Dr. Echlin, Bishop of Down, or for his description of Oliver Cromwell as a _greeting_ (_i.e._ weeping) devil. On the invitation of Lord Claneboy he arrived in Ireland in 1623, and in the same year was settled as (Presbyterian) parish minister at Bangor in Co. Down, with the consent of patron and people; he remained there until 1631, when he was suspended by Dr. Echlin, and was deposed and excommunicated in November, 1634. He has left a few writings behind him, and was grandfather of the poet Robert Blair, author of _The Grave_.[24] During the years of his ministry at Bangor the following incident occurred to him, which he of course attributes to demonic possession, though homicidal mania resulting from intemperate habits would be nearer the truth. One day a rich man, the constable of the parish, called upon him in company with one of his tenants concerning the baptizing of the latter's child. "When I had spoken what I thought necessary, and was ready to turn into my house, the constable dismissing the other told me he had something to say to me in private. I looking upon him saw his eyes like the eyes of a cat in the night, did presently conceive that he had a mischief in his heart, yet I resolved not to refuse what he desired, but I keeped a watchful eye upon him, and stayed at some distance; and being near to the door of the church I went in, and invited him to follow me. As soon as he entered within the doors he fell atrembling, and I, awondering. His trembling continuing and growing without any speech, I approached to him, and invited him to a seat, wherein he could hardly sit. The great trembling was like to throw him out of the seat. I laid my arm about him, and asked him what ailed him? But for a time he could speak none. At last his shaking ceased, and he began to speak, telling me, that for a long time the Devil had appeared to him; first at Glasgow he bought a horse from him, receiving a sixpence in earnest, and that in the end he offered to him a great purse full of sylver to be his, making no mention of the horse; he said that he blessed himself, and so the buyer with the sylver and gold that was poured out upon the table vanished. But some days thereafter he appeared to him at his own house, naming him by his name, and said to him, Ye are mine, for I _arled_ you with a sixpence, which yet ye have. Then said he, I asked his name, and he answered, they call me _Nickel Downus_ (I suppose that he repeated evil, that he should have said _Nihil Damus_). Being thus molested with these and many other apparitions of the Devil, he left Scotland; but being come to Ireland he did often likewise appear to him, and now of late he still commands me to kill and slay; and oftentimes, says he, my whinger hath been drawn and kept under my cloak to obey his commands, but still something holds my hand that I cannot strike. But then I asked him whom he was bidden kill? He answered, any that comes in my way; but 'The better they be The better service to me, Or else I shall kill thee.' When he uttered these words he fell again atrembling, and was stopped in his speaking, looking lamentably at me, designing me to be the person he aimed at; then he fell a crying and lamenting. I showed him the horribleness of his ignorance and drunkenness; he made many promises of reformation, which were not well keep'd; for within a fortnight he went to an alehouse to crave the price of his malt, and sitting there long at drink, as he was going homeward the Devil appeared to him, and challenged him for opening to me what had passed betwixt them secretly, and followed him to the house, pulling his cap off his head and his band from about his neck, saying to him, 'On Hallow-night I shall have thee, soul and body, in despite of the minister and of all that he will do for thee.'" In his choice of a date his Satanic Majesty showed his respect for popular superstitions. This attack of delirium tremens (though Mr. Blair would not have so explained it) had a most salutary effect; the constable was in such an abject state of terror lest the Devil should carry him off that he begged Mr. Blair to sit up with him all Hallow-night, which he did, spending the time very profitably in prayer and exhortation, which encouraged the man to defy Satan and all his works. The upshot of the matter was, that he became very charitable to the poor, and seems to have entirely renounced his intemperate habits.[25] Rejecting the supernatural element in the above as being merely the fruits of a diseased mind, there is no reason to doubt the truth of the story. Mr. Blair also met with some strange cases of religious hysteria, which became manifest in outbursts of weeping and bodily convulsions, but which he attributed to the Devil's "playing the ape, and counterfeiting the works of the Lord." He states that one Sunday, in the midst of public worship, "one of my charge, being a dull and ignorant person, made a noise and stretching of her body. Incontinent I was assisted to rebuke that lying spirit that disturbed the worship of God, charging the same not to disturb the congregation; and through God's mercy we met with no more of that work." Thus modestly our writer sets down what happened in his _Autobiography_; but the account of the incident spread far and wide, and at length came to the ears of Archbishop Usher, who, on his next meeting with Mr. Blair, warmly congratulated him on the successful exorcism he had practised.[26] If the period treated of in this chapter, viz. from the commencement of the seventeenth century to the Restoration of Charles II, be barren of witchcraft proper, it must at least be admitted that it is prodigal in regard to the marvellous under various shapes and forms, from which the hysterical state of the public mind can be fairly accurately gauged. The rebellion of 1641, and the Cromwellian confiscations, that troubled period when the country was torn by dissention, and ravaged by fire, sword, and pestilence, was aptly ushered in by a series of supernatural events which occurred in the county of Limerick. A letter dated the 13th August 1640, states that "for news we have the strangest that ever was heard of, there inchantments in the Lord of Castleconnell's Castle four miles from Lymerick, several sorts of noyse, sometymes of drums and trumpets, sometimes of other curious musique with heavenly voyces, then fearful screeches, and such outcries that the neighbours near cannot sleepe. Priests have adventured to be there, but have been cruelly beaten for their paynes, and carryed away they knew not how, some two miles and some four miles. Moreover were seen in the like manner, after they appear to the view of the neighbours, infinite number of armed men on foote as well as on horseback.... One thing more [_i.e._ something supernatural] by Mrs. Mary Burke with twelve servants lyes in the house, and never one hurt, onley they must dance with them every night; they say, Mrs. Mary come away, telling her she must be wyfe to the inchanted Earl of Desmond.... Uppon a Mannour of my Lord Bishoppe of Lymerick, Loughill, hath been seen upon the hill by most of the inhabitants aboundance of armed men marching, and these seene many tymes--and when they come up to them they do not appeare. These things are very strange, if the cleargie and gentrie say true."[27] During the rebellion an appalling massacre of Protestants took place at Portadown, when about a hundred persons, men, women, and children, were forced over the bridge into the river, and so drowned; the few that could swim, and so managed to reach the shore, were either knocked on the head by the insurgents when they landed, or else were shot. It is not a matter of surprise that this terrible incident gave rise to legends and stories in which anything strange or out of the common was magnified out of all proportion. According to one deponent there appeared one evening in the river "a vision or spirit assuming the shape of a woman, waist high, upright in the water, naked with [_illegible_] in her hand, her hair dishevelled, her eyes seeming to twinkle in her head, and her skin as white as snow; which spirit seeming to stand upright in the water often repeated the word _Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!_" Also Robert Maxwell, Archdeacon of Down, swore that the rebels declared to him, (and some deponents made similar statements) "that most of those that were thrown from that bridge were daily and nightly seen to walk upon the River, sometimes singing Psalms, sometimes brandishing of Swords, sometimes screeching in a most hideous and fearful manner." Both these occurrences are capable of a rational explanation. The supposed spectre was probably a poor, bereaved woman, demented by grief and terror, who stole out of her hiding-place at night to bewail the murder of her friends, while the weird cries arose from the half-starved dogs of the country-side, together with the wolves which abounded in Ireland at that period, quarrelling and fighting over the corpses. Granting the above, and bearing in mind the credulity of all classes of Society, it is not difficult to see how the tales originated; but to say that, because such obviously impossible statements occur in certain depositions, the latter are therefore worthless as a whole, is to wilfully misunderstand the popular mind of the seventeenth century. We have the following on the testimony of the Rev. George Creighton, minister of Virginia, co. Cavan. He tells us that "divers women brought to his House a young woman, almost naked, to whom a Rogue came upon the way, these women being present, and required her to give him her mony, or else he would kill her, and so drew his sword; her answer was, You cannot kill me unless God give you leave, and His will be done. Thereupon the Rogue thrust three times at her naked body with his drawn sword, and never pierced her skin; whereat he being, as it seems, much confounded, went away and left her." A like story comes from the other side: "At the taking of the Newry a rebel being appointed to be shot upon the bridge, and stripped stark-naked, notwithstanding the musketeer stood within two yards of him, and shot him in the middle of the back, yet the bullet entered not, nor did him any more hurt than leave a little black spot behind it. This many hundreds were eye-witnesses of. Divers of the like have I confidently been assured of, who have been provided of diabolical charms."[28] Similar tales of persons bearing charmed lives could no doubt be culled from the records of every war that has been fought on this planet of ours since History began. The ease with which the accidental or unusual was transformed into the miraculous at this period is shown by the following. A Dr. Tate and his wife and children were flying to Dublin from the insurgents. On their way they were wandering over commons covered with snow, without any food. The wife was carrying a sucking child, John, and having no milk to give it she was about to lay it down in despair, when suddenly "on the Brow of a Bank she found a Suck-bottle with sweet milk in it, no Footsteps appearing in the snow of any that should bring it thither, and far from any Habitation; which preserved the child's life, who after became a Blessing to the Church." The Dr. Tate mentioned above was evidently the Rev. Faithful Tate, D.D., father of Nahum Tate of "Tate and Brady" fame.[29] On the night of Sunday, the 8th of May 1642, a terrific storm of hail and rain came upon the English soldiers, which of course they attributed to other than the correct source. "All the tents were in a thrice blown over. It was not possible for any match to keep fire, or any sojor to handle his musket or yet to stand. Yea, severalls of them dyed that night of meere cold. Our sojors, and some of our officers too (who suppose that no thing which is more than ordinarie can be the product of nature), attributed this hurrikan to _the divilish skill of some Irish witches_."[30] Apparently the English were not as wise in their generation as the inhabitants of Constance in Switzerland were on the occasion of a similar ebullition of the elements. The latter went out, found a witch, _persuaded_ her to confess herself the guilty author of the storm, and then burnt her--by which time, no doubt, the wind had subsided! Much in the same strain might be added, but, lest we should weary our readers, we shall content ourselves with giving two more marvellous relations from this particular period so full of the marvellous. O'Daly in his _History of the Geraldines_ relates that during the siege of Limerick three portents appeared. The first was a luminous globe, brighter than the moon and little inferior to the sun, which for two leagues and a half shed a vertical light on the city, and then faded into darkness over the enemy's camp; the second was the apparition of the Virgin, accompanied by several of the Saints; and the third was a _lusus naturæ_ of the Siamese-twins type: all three of which O'Daly interprets to his own satisfaction. The first of these was some form of the northern lights, and is also recorded in the diary of certain Puritan officers. That learned, but somewhat too credulous English antiquary, John Aubrey, relates in his _Miscellanies_ that before the last battle between the contending parties "a woman of uncommon Statue all in white appearing to the Bishop [Heber McMahon, whom Aubrey terms _Veneras_] admonished him not to cross the River first to assault the Enemy, but suffer them to do it, whereby he should obtain the Victory. That if the _Irish_ took the water first to move towards the _English_ they should be put to a total Rout, which came to pass. _Ocahan_ and Sir _Henry O'Neal_, who were both killed there, saw severally the same apparition, and dissuaded the Bishop from giving the first onset, but could not prevail upon him." An instance of an Irishman suffering from the effects of witchcraft outside Ireland is afforded us in a pathetic petition sent up to the English Parliament between the years 1649 and 1653.[31] The petitioner, John Campbell, stated that twelve years since he lost his sight in co. Antrim, where he was born, by which he was reduced to such extremity that he was forced to come over to England to seek some means of livelihood for himself in craving the charity of well-disposed people, but contrary to his expectation he has been often troubled there with dreams and fearful visions in his sleep, and has been twice bewitched, insomuch that he can find no quietness or rest here, and so prays for a pass to return to Ireland. The saintly James Usher, Archbishop of Armagh, was a Prelate who, if he had happened to live at an earlier period would certainly have been numbered amongst those whose wide and profound learning won for themselves the title of magician--as it was, he was popularly credited with prophetical powers. Most of the prophecies attributed to him may be found in a little pamphlet of eight pages, entitled "Strange and Remarkable Prophecies and Predictions of the Holy, Learned, and Excellent James Usher, &c.... Written by the person who heard it from this Excellent person's own Mouth," and apparently published in 1656. According to it, he foretold the rebellion of 1641 in a sermon on Ezekiel iv. 6, preached in Dublin in 1601. "And of this Sermon the Bishop reserved the Notes, and put a note thereof in the Margent of his Bible, and for twenty years before he still lived in the expectation of the fulfilling thereof, and the nearer the time was the more confident he was that it was nearer accomplishment, though there was no visible appearance of any such thing." He also foretold the death of Charles I, and his own coming poverty and loss of property, which last he actually experienced for many years before his death. The Rev. William Turner in his _Compleat History of Remarkable Providences_ (London, 1697) gives a premonition of approaching death that the Archbishop received. A lady who was dead appeared to him in his sleep, and invited him to sup with her the next night. He accepted the invitation, and died the following afternoon, 21st March 1656. This chapter may be brought to a conclusion by the following story from Glanvill's _Relations_.[32] One Mr. John Browne of Durley in Ireland was made by his neighbour, John Mallett of Enmore, trustee for his children in minority. In 1654 Mr. Browne lay a-dying: at the foot of his bed stood a great iron chest fitted with three locks, in which were the trustees' papers. Some of his people and friends were sitting by him, when to their horror they suddenly saw the locked chest begin to open, lock by lock, without the aid of any visible hand, until at length the lid stood upright. The dying man, who had not spoken for twenty-four hours, sat up in the bed, looked at the chest, and said: _You say true, you say true, you are in the right_ (a favourite expression of his), _I'll be with you by and by_, and then lay down again, and never spoke after. The chest slowly locked itself in exactly the same manner as it had opened, and shortly after this Mr. Browne died. CHAPTER V A.D. 1661 FLORENCE NEWTON, THE WITCH OF YOUGHAL With the Restoration of King Charles II witchcraft did not cease; on the other hand it went on with unimpaired vigour, and several important cases were brought to trial in England. In one instance, at least, it made its appearance in Ireland, this time far south, at Youghal. The extraordinary tale of Florence Newton and her doings, which is related below, forms the seventh Relation in Glanvill's _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ (London, 1726); it may also be found, together with some English cases of notoriety, in Francis Bragge's _Witchcraft further displayed_ (London, 1712). It is from the first of these sources that we have taken it, and reproduce it here verbatim, except that some redundant matter has been omitted, _i.e._ where one witness relates facts(!) which have already been brought forward as evidence in the examination of a previous witness, and which therefore do not add to our knowledge, though no doubt they materially contributed to strengthen the case against the unfortunate old woman. Hayman in his _Guide to Youghal_ attributes the whole affair to the credulity of the Puritan settlers, who were firm believers in such things. In this he is correct no doubt, but it should be borne in mind by the reader that such a belief was not confined to the new-comers at Youghal, but was common property throughout England and Ireland. The tale shows that there was a little covey of suspected witches in Youghal at that date, as well as some skilful amateur witch-finders (Messrs. Perry, Greatrakes, and Blackwall). From the readiness with which the Mayor proposed to try the "water-experiment" one is led to suspect that such a process as swimming a witch was not altogether unknown in Youghal. For the benefit of the uninitiated we may briefly describe the actual process, which, as we shall see, the Mayor contemplated, but did not actually carry out. The suspected witch is taken, her right thumb tied to her left great toe, and _vice versâ_. She is then thrown into the water: if she _sinks_ (and drowns, by any chance!) her innocence is conclusively established; if, on the other hand, she _floats_, her witchcraft is proven, for water, as being the element in Baptism, refuses to receive such a sinner in its bosom. "Florence Newton was committed to Youghal prison by the Mayor of the town, 24th March 1661, for bewitching Mary Longdon, who gave evidence against her at the Cork Assizes (11th September), as follows: "Mary Longdon being sworn, and bidden to look upon the prisoner, her countenance chang'd pale, and she was very fearful to look towards her, but at last she did, and being asked whether she knew her, she said she did, and wish'd she never had. Being asked how long she had known her, she said for three or four years. And that at Christmas the said Florence came to the Deponent, at the house of John Pyne in Youghal, where the Deponent was a servant, and asked her to give her a piece of Beef out of the Powdering Tub; and the Defendant answering her that she would not give away her Master's Beef, the said Florence seemed to be very angry, and said, _Thou had'st as good give it me_, and went away grumbling. "That about a week after the Defendant going to the water with a Pail of Cloth on her head she met the said Florence Newton, who came full in her Face, and threw the Pail off her head, and violently kiss'd her, and said, _Mary, I pray thee let thee and I be Friends; for I bear thee no ill will, and I pray thee do thou bear me none_. And that she the Defendant afterwards went home, and that within a few Days after she saw a Woman with a Vail over her Face stand by her bedside, and one standing by her like a little old Man in Silk Cloaths, and that this Man whom she took to be a Spirit drew the Vail off the Woman's Face, and then she knew it to be Goody Newton: and that the Spirit spoke to the Defendant and would have her promise him to follow his advice and she would have all things after her own Heart, to which she says she answered that she would have nothing to say to him, for her trust was in the Lord. "That within a month after the said Florence had kiss'd her, she this Defendant fell very ill of Fits or Trances, which would take her on a sudden, in that violence that three or four men could not hold her; and in her Fits she would be taken with Vomiting, and would vomit up Needles, Pins, Horsenails, Stubbs, Wooll, and Straw, and that very often. And being asked whether she perceived at these times what she vomited? She replied, she did; for then she was not in so great distraction as in other parts of her Fits she was. And that before the first beginning of her Fits several (and very many) small stones would fall upon her as she went up and down, and would follow her from place to place, and from one Room to another, and would hit her on the head, shoulders, and arms, and fall to the ground and vanish away. And that she and several others would see them both fall upon her and on the ground, but could never take them, save only some few which she and her Master caught in their hands. Amongst which one that had a hole in it she tied (as she was advised) with a leather thong to her Purse, but it was vanish'd immediately, though the latter continu'd tied in a fast knot. "That in her Fits she often saw Florence Newton, and cried out against her for tormenting of her, for she says, that she would several times Stick Pins into her Arms, and some of them so fast, that a Man must pluck three or four times to get out the Pins, and they were stuck between the skin and the flesh. That sometimes she would be remov'd out of the bed into another Room, sometimes she would be carried to the top of the House, and laid on a board between two Sollar Beams, sometimes put into a Chest, sometimes under a parcel of Wooll, sometimes between two Feather-Beds on which she used to lie, and sometimes between the Bed and the Mat in her Master's Chamber, in the Daytime. And being asked how she knew that she was thus carried about and disposed of, seeing in her Fits she was in a violent distraction? She answered, she never knew where she was, till they of the Family and the Neighbours with them, would be taking her out of the places whither she was so carried and removed. And being asked the reason and wherefore she cried out so much against the said Florence Newton in her Fits? She answered, because she saw her, and felt her torturing her. "And being asked how she could think it was Florence Newton that did her this prejudice? She said, first, because she threatened her, then because after she had kiss'd her she fell into these Fits, and that she saw and felt her tormenting. And lastly, that when the people of the Family, by advice of the Neighbours and consent of the Mayor, had sent for Florence Newton to come to the Defendant, she was always worse when she was brought to her, and her Fits more violent than at another time. And that after the said Florence was committed at Youghal the Defendant was not troubled, but was very well till a little while after the said Florence was removed to Cork, and then the Defendant was as ill as ever before. And then the Mayor of Youghal, one Mr. Mayre, sent to know whether the said Florence was bolted (as the Defendant was told), and finding she was not, the order was given to put her Bolts on her; which being done, the Deponent saith she was well again, and so hath continued ever since, and being asked whether she had such like Fits before the said Florence gave her the kiss, she saith she never had any, but believed that with the kiss she bewitch'd her, and rather because she had heard from Nicholas Pyne and others that Florence had confessed so much. "This Mary Longdon having closed her evidence, Florence Newton peeped at her as it were betwixt the heads of the bystanders that interposed between her and the said Mary, and lifting up both her hands together, as they were manacled, cast them in a violent angry motion (as was observed by W. Aston) towards the said Mary, as if she intended to strike at her if she could have reached her, and said, _Now she is down_. Upon which the Maid fell suddenly down to the ground like a stone, and fell into a most violent Fit, that all the people that could come to lay hands on her could scarce hold her, she biting her own arms and shreeking out in a most hideous manner, to the amazement of all the Beholders. And continuing so for about a quarter of an hour (the said Florence Newton sitting by herself all that while pinching her own hands and arms, as was sworn by some that observed her), the Maid was ordered to be carried out of Court, and taken into a House. Whence several Persons after that brought word, that the Maid was in a Vomiting Fit, and they brought in several crook'd Pins, and Straws, and Wooll, in white Foam like Spittle, in great proportion. Whereupon the Court having taken notice that the Maid said she had been very well when the said Florence was in Bolts, and ill again when out of them, till they were again put on her, demanded of the Jaylor if she were in Bolts or no, to which he said she was not, only manacled. Upon which order was given to put on her Bolts, and upon putting them on she cried out that she was killed, she was undone, she was spoiled, why do you torment me thus? and so continued complaining grievously for half a quarter of an hour. And then came in a messenger from the Maid, and informed the Court the Maid was well. At which Florence immediately and cholerickly uttered these words, _She is not well yet!_ And being demanded, how she knew this, she denied she said so, though many in Court heard her say the words, and she said, if she did, she knew not what she said, being old and disquieted, and distracted with her sufferings. But the Maid being reasonably well come to herself, was, before the Court knew anything of it, sent out of Town to Youghall, and so was no further examined. "The Fit of the Maid being urged by the Court with all the circumstance of it upon Florence Newton, to have been a continuance of her devilish practice, she denied it, and likewise the motion of her hands, and the saying, _Now she is down_, though the Court saw the first, and the words were sworn to by one Roger Moor. And Thomas Harrison swore that he had observed the said Florence peep at her, and use that motion with her hands, and saw the Maid fall immediately upon that motion, and heard the words, _Now she is down_, uttered. "Nicholas Stout was next produced by Mr. Attorney-General, who being sworn and examined, saith, That he had often tried her, having heard say that Witches could not say the Lord's Prayer, whether she could or no, and she could not. Whereupon she said she could say it, and had often said it, and the Court being desired by her to hear her say it, gave her leave; and four times together after these words, _Give us this day our daily bread_, she continually said, _As we forgive them_, leaving out altogether the words, _And forgive us our trespasses_, upon which the Court appointed one near her to teach her the words she left out. But she either could not, or would not, say them, using only these or the like words when these were repeated, _Ay, ay, trespasses, that's the word_. And being often pressed to utter the words as they were repeated to her, she did not. And being asked the reason, she said she was old and had a bad memory; and being asked how her memory served her so well for other parts of the Prayer, and only failed her for that, she said she knew not, neither could she help it. "John Pyne being likewise sworn and examined, saith, That about January last [1661] the said Mary Longdon, being his Servant, was much troubled with small stones that were thrown at her [&c., as in the Deponent's statement, other items of which he also corroborated]. That sometimes the Maid would be reading in a Bible, and on a sudden he hath seen the Bible struck out of her Hand into the middle of the Room, and she immediately cast into a violent Fit. That in the Fits he hath seen two Bibles laid on her Breast, and in the twinkling of an eye they would be cast betwixt the two Beds the Maid lay upon, sometimes thrown into the middle of the Room, and that Nicholas Pyne held the Bible in the Maid's hand so fast, that it being suddenly snatch'd away, two of the leaves were torn. "Nicholas Pyne being sworn, saith, That the second night after that the Witch had been in Prison, being the 24th [26?] of March last, he and Joseph Thompson, Roger Hawkins, and some others went to speak with her concerning the Maid, and told her that it was the general opinion of the Town that she had bewitched her, and desired her to deal freely with them, whether she had bewitched her or no. She said she had not _bewitched_ her, but it may be she had _overlooked_ her, and that there was a great difference between bewitching and overlooking, and that she could not have done her any harm if she had not touch'd her, and that therefore she had kiss'd her. And she said that what mischief she thought of at that time she kiss'd her, that would fall upon her, and that she could not but confess she had wronged the Maid, and thereupon fell down upon her knees, and prayed God to forgive her for wronging the poor Wench. They wish'd that she might not be wholly destroyed by her; to which she said, it must be another that would help her, and not they that did the harm. And then she said, that there were others, as Goody Halfpenny and Goody Dod, in Town, that could do these things as well as she, and that it might be one of these that had done the Maid wrong. "He further saith, That towards Evening the Door of the Prison shook, and she arose up hastily and said, _What makest thow here this time a night?_ And there was a very great noise, as if some body with Bolts and Chains had been running up and down the Room, and they asked her what it was she spoke to, and what it was that made the noise; and she said she saw nothing, neither did she speak, and if she did, it was she knew not what. But the next day she confess'd it was a Spirit, and her Familiar, in the shape of a Greyhound. "He further saith, That he and Mr. Edward Perry and others for Trial of her took a Tile off the Prison, went to the place where the Witch lay, and carried it to the House where the Maid lived, and put it in the fire until it was red-hot, and then dripped some of the Maid's water upon it, and the Witch was then grievously tormented, and when the water consumed she was well again. "Edward Perry being likewise sworn, deposeth, That he, Mr. Greatrix, and Mr. Blackwall went to the Maid, and Mr. Greatrix and he had read of a way to discover a Witch, which he would practise. And so they sent for the Witch, and set her on a Stool, and a Shoemaker with a strong Awl endeavoured to stick it into the Stool, but could not till the third time. And then they bade her come off the Stool, but she said she was very weary and could not stir. Then two of them pulled her off, and the Man went to pull out his Awl, and it dropped into his hand with half an Inch broke off the blade of it, and they all looked to have found where it had been stuck, but could find no place where any entry had been made by it. Then they took another Awl, and put it into the Maid's hand, and one of them took the Maid's hand, and ran violently at the Witch's hand with it, but could not enter it, though the Awl was so bent that none of them could put it straight again. Then Mr. Blackwall took a Launce, and launc'd one of her hands an Inch and a half long, and a quarter of an Inch deep, but it bled not at all. Then he launc'd the other hand, and then they bled. "He further saith, That after she was in Prison he went with Roger Hawkins and others to discourse with the Witch about the Maid, and they asked what it was she spoke to the day before, and after some denial she said it was a Greyhound which was her Familiar, and went out at the Window; and then she said, _If I have done the Maid hurt I am sorry for it_. And being asked whether she had done her any hurt she said she never did _bewitch_ her, but confess'd she had _overlooked_ her, at that time she kiss'd her, but that she could not now help her, for none could help her that did the mishap, but others. Further the Deponent saith, That meeting after the Assizes at Cashel with one William Lap [who suggested the test of the tile, &c.]. "Mr. Wood, a Minister, being likewise sworn and examined, deposeth, That having heard of the stones dropped and thrown at the Maid, and of her Fits, and meeting with the Maid's Brother, he went along with him to the Maid, and found her in her Fit, crying out against Gammer Newton, that she prick'd and hurt her. And when she came to herself he asked her what had troubled her; and she said Gammer Newton. And the Deponent saith, Why, she was not there. _Yes_, said she, _I saw her by my bedside_. The Deponent then asked her the original of all, which she related from the time of her begging the Beef, and after kissing, and so to that time. That then they caused the Maid to be got up, and sent for Florence Newton, but she refused to come, pretending she was sick, though it indeed appeared she was well. Then the Mayor of Youghall came in, and spoke with the Maid, and then sent again and caused Florence Newton to be brought in, and immediately the Maid fell into her Fit far more violent, and three times as long as at any other time, and all the time the Witch was in the Chamber the Maid cried out continually of her being hurt here and there, but never named the Witch: but as soon as she was removed, then she cried out against her by the name of Gammer Newton, and this for several times. And still when the Witch was out of the Chamber the Maid would desire to go to Prayers, and he found good affections of her in time of Prayer, but when the Witch was brought in again, though never so privately, although she could not possibly, as the Deponent conceives, see her, she would be immediately senseless, and like to be strangled, and so would continue till the Witch was taken out, and then though never so privately carried away she would come again to her senses. That afterwards Mr. Greatrix, Mr. Blackwall, and some others, who would need satisfy themselves in the influence of the Witch's presence, tried it and found it several times. "Richard Mayre, Mayor of Youghall, sworn, saith, That about the 24th of March last he sent for Florence Newton and examined her about the Maid, and she at first denied it, and accused Goodwife Halfpenny and Goodwife Dod, but at length when he had caused a Boat to be provided, and thought to have tried the Water-Experiment on all three, Florence Newton confessed to overlooking. Then he likewise examined the other two Women, but they utterly denied it, and were content to abide any trial; whereupon he caused Dod, Halfpenny, and Newton to be carried to the Maid; and he told her that these two Women, or one of them, were said by Gammer Newton to have done her hurt, but she said, _No, no, they are honest Women, but it is Gammer Newton that hurts me, and I believe she is not far off_. [She was then brought in privately, with the usual result.] He further deposeth that there were three Aldermen in Youghall, whose children she had kiss'd, as he had heard them affirm, and all the children died presently after. "Joseph Thompson being likewise sworn, saith [the same as Nicholas Pyne relative to the Greyhound-Familiar.] "Hitherto we have heard the most considerable Evidence touching Florence Newton's witchcraft upon Mary Longdon, for which she was committed to Youghall Prison, 24th March 1661. But April following she bewitched one David Jones to death by kissing his hand through the Grate of the Prison, for which she was indicted at Cork Assizes, and the evidence is as follows: "Elenor Jones, Relict of the said David Jones, being sworn and examined in open Court what she knew concerning any practice of Witchcraft by the said Florence Newton upon the said David Jones her Husband, gave in Evidence, That in April last the said David, having been out all Night, came home early in the Morning, and said to her, _Where dost thou think I have been all Night?_ To which she answered she knew not; whereupon he replied, _I and Frank Beseley have been standing Centinel over the Witch all night_. To which the said Elenor said, _Why, what hurt is that?_ _Hurt?_ quoth he. _Marry I doubt it's never a jot the better for me; for she hath kiss'd my Hand, and I have a great pain in that arm, and I verily believe she hath bewitch'd me, if ever she bewitch'd any Man._ To which she answered, _The Lord forbid!_ That all that Night, and continually from that time, he was restless and ill, complaining exceedingly of a great pain in his arm for seven days together, and at the seven days' end he complained that the pain was come from his Arm to his Heart, and then kept his bed Night and Day, grievously afflicted, and crying out against Florence Newton, and about fourteen days after he died. "Francis Beseley being sworn and examined, saith, That about the time aforementioned meeting with the said David Jones, and discoursing with him of the several reports then stirring concerning the said Florence Newton, that she had several Familiars resorting to her in sundry shapes, the said David Jones told him he had a great mind to watch her one Night to see whether he could observe any Cats or other Creatures resort to her through the Grate, as 'twas suspected they did, and desired the said Francis to go with him, which he did. And that when they came thither David Jones came to Florence, and told her that he heard she could not say the Lord's Prayer; to which she answered, She could. He then desir'd her to say it, but she excused herself by the decay of Memory through old Age. Then David Jones began to teach her, but she could not or would not say it, though often taught it. Upon which the said Jones and Beseley being withdrawn a little from her, and discoursing of her not being able to learn this Prayer, she called out to David Jones, and said, _David, David, come hither, I can say the Lord's Prayer now_. Upon which David went towards her, and the said Deponent would have pluckt him back, and persuaded him not to have gone to her, but he would not be persuaded, but went to the Grate to her, and she began to say the Lord's Prayer, but could not say _Forgive us our trespasses_, so that David again taught her, which she seem'd to take very thankfully, and told him she had a great mind to have kiss'd him, but that the Grate hindered her, but desired she might kiss his Hand; whereupon he gave her his Hand through the Grate, and she kiss'd it; and towards break of Day they went away and parted, and soon after the Deponent heard that David Jones was ill. Whereupon he went to visit him, [and was told by him that the Hag] had him by the Hand, and was pulling off his Arm. And he said, _Do you not see the old hag How she pulls me? Well, I lay my Death on her, she has bewitch'd me._ About fourteen days languishing he died." This concludes the account of Florence Newton's trial, as given by Glanvill; the source from which it was taken will be alluded to shortly. It would seem that the witch was indicted upon two separate charges, viz. with bewitching the servant-girl, Mary Longdon, and with causing the death of David Jones. The case must have created considerable commotion in Youghal, and was considered so important that the Attorney-General went down to prosecute, but unfortunately there is no record of the verdict. If found guilty (and we can have little doubt but that she was), she would have been sentenced to death in pursuance of the Elizabethan Statute, section 1. Many of the actors in the affair were persons of local prominence, and can be identified. The "Mr. Greatrix" was Valentine Greatrakes, the famous healer or "stroker," who also makes his appearance in the tale of the haunted butler (see p. 164). He was born in 1629, and died in 1683. He joined the Parliamentary Army, and when it was disbanded in 1656, became a country magistrate. At the Restoration he was deprived of his offices, and then gave himself up to a life of contemplation. In 1662 the idea seized him that he had the power of healing the king's-evil. He kept the matter quiet for some time, but at last communicated it to his wife, who jokingly bade him try his power on a boy in the neighbourhood. Accordingly he laid his hands on the affected parts with prayer, and within a month the boy was healed. Gradually his fame spread, until patients came to him from various parts of England as well as Ireland. In 1665 he received an invitation from Lord Conway to come to Ragley to cure his wife of perpetual headaches. He stayed at Ragley about three weeks, and while there he entertained his hosts with the story of Florence Newton and her doings; although he did not succeed in curing Lady Conway, yet many persons in the neighbourhood benefited by his treatment. The form of words he always used was: "God Almighty heal thee for His mercy's sake"; and if the patient professed to receive any benefit he bade them give God the praise. He took no fees, and rejected cases which were manifestly incurable. In modern times the cures have been reasonably attributed to animal magnetism. He was buried beside his father at Affane, co. Waterford.[33] Some of his contemporaries had a very poor opinion of him; Increase Mather, writing in 1684, alludes contemptuously to "the late miracle-monger or Mirabilian stroaker in Ireland, Valentine Greatrix," whom he accuses of attempting to cure an ague by the use of that "hobgoblin word, _Abrodacara_." John Pyne, the employer of the bewitched servant-girl, served as Bailiff of Youghal along with Edward Perry in 1664, the latter becoming Mayor in 1674; both struck tradesmen's tokens of the usual type. Richard Myres was Bailiff of Youghal in 1642, and Mayor in 1647 and 1660. The Rev. James Wood was appointed "minister of the gospel" at Youghal, by the Commonwealth Government, at a salary of £120 per annum; in 1654 his stipend was raised to £140, and in the following year he got a further increase of £40. He was sworn in a freeman at large in 1656, and appears to have been presented by the Grand Jury in 1683 as a religious vagrant.[34] Furthermore, it seems possible to recover the name of the Judge who tried the case at the Cork Assizes. Glanvill says that he took the Relation from "a copy of an Authentick Record, as I conceive, every half-sheet having W. Aston writ in the Margin, and then again W. Aston at the end of all, who in all likelihood must be some publick Notary or Record-Keeper." This man, who is also mentioned in the narrative, is to be identified with Judge Sir William Aston, who after the establishment of the Commonwealth came to Ireland, and was there practising as a barrister at the time of the Restoration, having previously served in the royalist army. On 3rd November 1660 he was appointed senior puisne Judge of the Chief Place, and died in 1671.[35] The story accordingly is based on the notes taken by the Judge before whom the case was brought, and is therefore of considerable value, in that it affords us a picture, drawn by an eye-witness in full possession of all the facts, of a witch-trial in Ireland in the middle of the seventeenth century. CHAPTER VI A.D. 1662-1686 THE DEVIL AT DAMERVILLE--AND AT BALLINAGARDE--TAVERNER AND HADDOCK'S GHOST--HUNTER AND THE GHOSTLY OLD WOMAN--A WITCH RESCUED BY THE DEVIL--DR. WILLIAMS AND THE HAUNTED HOUSE IN DUBLIN--APPARITIONS SEEN IN THE AIR IN CO. TIPPERARY--A CLERGYMAN AND HIS WIFE BEWITCHED TO DEATH--BEWITCHING OF MR. MOOR--THE FAIRY-POSSESSED BUTLER--A GHOST INSTIGATES A PROSECUTION--SUPPOSED WITCHCRAFT IN CO. CORK--THE DEVIL AMONG THE QUAKERS. From the earliest times the Devil has made his mark, historically and geographically, in Ireland; the nomenclature of many places indicates that they are his exclusive property, while the antiquarian cannot be sufficiently thankful to him for depositing the Rock of Cashel where he did. But here we must deal with a later period of his activity. A quaint tale comes to us from co. Tipperary of a man bargaining with his Majesty for the price of his soul, in which as usual the Devil is worsted by a simple trick, and gets nothing for his trouble. Near Shronell in that county are still to be seen the ruins of Damerville Court, formerly the residence of the Damer family, and from which locality they took the title of Barons Milton of Shronell. The first of the family to settle in Ireland, Joseph Damer, had been formerly in the service of the Parliament, but not deeming it safe to remain in England after the Restoration, came over to this country and, taking advantage of the cheapness of land at that time, purchased large estates. It was evidently of this member of the family that the following tale is told. He possessed great wealth, and 'twas darkly hinted that this had come to him from no lawful source, that in fact he had made a bargain with the Devil to sell his soul to him for a top-boot full of gold. His Satanic Majesty greedily accepted the offer, and on the day appointed for the ratification of the bargain arrived with a sufficiency of bullion from the Bank of Styx--or whatever may be the name of the establishment below! He was ushered into a room, in the middle of which stood the empty top-boot; into this he poured the gold, but to his surprise it remained as empty as before. He hastened away for more gold, with the same result. Repeated journeys to and fro for fresh supplies still left the boot as empty as when he began, until at length in sheer disgust he took his final departure, leaving Damer in possession of the gold, and as well (for a few brief years, at all events) of that spiritual commodity he had valued at so little. In process of time the secret leaked out. The wily Damer had taken the sole off the boot, and had then securely fastened the latter over a hole in the floor. In the storey underneath was a series of large, empty cellars, in which he had stationed men armed with shovels, who were under instructions to remove each succeeding shower of gold, and so make room for more. Another story[36] comes from Ballinagarde in co. Limerick, the residence of the Croker family, though it is probably later in point of time; in it the Devil appears in a different rôle. Once upon a time Mr. Croker of Ballinagarde was out hunting, but as the country was very difficult few were able to keep up with the hounds. The chase lasted all day, and late in the evening Croker and a handsome dark stranger, mounted on a magnificent black horse, were alone at the death. Croker, delighted at his companion's prowess, asked him home, and the usual festivities were kept up fast and furious till far into the night. The stranger was shown to a bedroom, and as the servant was pulling off his boots he saw that he had a cloven hoof. In the morning he acquainted his master with the fact, and both went to see the stranger. The latter had disappeared, and so had his horse, but the bedroom carpet was seared by a red-hot hoof, while four hoof-marks were imprinted on the floor of the horse's stall. What incident gave rise to the story we cannot tell, but there was a saying among the peasantry that such-and-such a thing occurred "as sure as the Devil was in Ballinagarde"; while he is said to have appeared there again recently. A most remarkable instance of legal proceedings being instituted at the instigation of a ghost comes from the co. Down in the year 1662.[37] About Michaelmas one Francis Taverner, servant to Lord Chichester, was riding home on horseback late one night from Hillborough, and on nearing Drumbridge his horse suddenly stood still, and he, not suspecting anything out of the common, but merely supposing him to have the staggers, got down to bleed him in the mouth, and then remounted. As he was proceeding two horsemen seemed to pass him, though he heard no sound of horses' hoofs. Presently there appeared a third at his elbow, apparently clad in a long white coat, having the appearance of one James Haddock, an inhabitant of Malone who had died about five years previously. When the startled Taverner asked him in God's name who he was, he told him that he was James Haddock, and recalled himself to his mind by relating a trifling incident that had occurred in Taverner's father's house a short while before Haddock's death. Taverner asked him why he spoke with him; he told him, because he was a man of more resolution than other men, and requested him to ride along with him in order that he might acquaint him with the business he desired him to perform. Taverner refused, and, as they were at a cross-road, went his own way. Immediately after parting with the spectre there arose a mighty wind, "and withal he heard very hideous Screeches and Noises, to his great amazement. At last he heard the cocks crow, to his great comfort; he alighted off his horse, and falling to prayer desired God's assistance, and so got safe home." The following night the ghost appeared again to him as he sat by the fire, and thereupon declared to him the reason for its appearance, and the errand upon which it wished to send him. It bade him go to Eleanor Walsh, its widow, who was now married to one Davis, and say to her that it was the will of her late husband that their son David should be righted in the matter of a lease which the father had bequeathed to him, but of which the step-father had unjustly deprived him. Taverner refused to do so, partly because he did not desire to gain the ill-will of his neighbours, and partly because he feared being taken for one demented; but the ghost so thoroughly frightened him by appearing to him every night for a month, that in the end he promised to fulfil its wishes. He went to Malone, found a woman named Eleanor Walsh, who proved to be the wrong person, but who told him she had a namesake living hard by, upon which Taverner took no further trouble in the matter, and returned without delivering his message. The same night he was awakened by something pressing upon him, and saw again the ghost of Haddock in a white coat, which asked him if he had delivered the message, to which Taverner mendaciously replied that he had been to Malone and had seen Eleanor Walsh. Upon which the ghost looked with a more friendly air upon him, bidding him not to be afraid, and then vanished in a flash of brightness. But having learnt the truth of the matter in some mysterious way, it again appeared, this time in a great fury, and threatened to tear him to pieces if he did not do as it desired. Utterly unnerved by these unearthly visits, Taverner left his house in the mountains and went into the town of Belfast, where he sat up all night in the house of a shoemaker named Peirce, where were also two or three of Lord Chichester's servants. "About midnight, as they were all by the fireside, they beheld Taverner's countenance change and a trembling to fall upon him; who presently espied the Apparition in a Room opposite him, and took up the Candle and went to it, and resolutely ask'd it in the name of God wherefore it haunted him? It replied, Because he had not delivered the message; and withal repeated the threat of tearing him in pieces if he did not do so speedily: and so, changing itself into many prodigious Shapes, it vanished in white like a Ghost." In a very dejected frame of mind Taverner related the incident to some of Lord Chichester's family, and the chaplain, Mr. James South, advised him to go and deliver the message to the widow, which he accordingly did, and thereupon experienced great quietness of mind. Two nights later the apparition again appeared, and on learning what had been done, charged him to bear the same message to the executors. Taverner not unnaturally asked if Davis, the step-father, would attempt to do him any harm, to which the spirit gave a very doubtful response, but at length reassured him by threatening Davis if he should attempt anything to his injury, and then vanished away in white. The following day Taverner was summoned before the Court of the celebrated Jeremy Taylor, Bishop of Down, who carefully examined him about the matter, and advised him the next time the spirit appeared to ask it the following questions: Whence are you? Are you a good or a bad spirit? Where is your abode? What station do you hold? How are you regimented in the other world? What is the reason that you appear for the relief of your son in so small a matter, when so many widows and orphans are oppressed, and none from thence of their relations appear as you do to right them? That night Taverner went to Lord Conway's house. Feeling the coming presence of the apparition, and being unwilling to create any disturbance within doors, he and his brother went out into the courtyard, where they saw the spirit coming over the wall. He told it what he had done, and it promised not to trouble him any more, but threatened the executors if they did not see the boy righted. "Here his brother put him in mind to ask the Spirit what the Bishop bid him, which he did presently. But it gave him no answer, but crawled on its hands and feet over the wall again, and so vanished in white with a most melodious harmony." The boy's friends then brought an action (apparently in the Bishop's Court) against the executors and trustees; one of the latter, John Costlet, who was also the boy's uncle, tried the effect of bluff, but the threat of what the apparition could and might do to him scared him into a promise of justice. About five years later, when the story was forgotten, Costlet began to threaten the boy with an action, but, coming home drunk one night, he fell off his horse and was killed. In the above there is no mention of the fate of Davis. Whatever explanation we may choose to give of the _supernatural_ element in the above, there seems to be no doubt that such an incident occurred, and that the story is, in the main, true to fact, as it was taken by Glanvill from a letter of Mr. Thomas Alcock's, the secretary to Bishop Taylor's Court, who must therefore have heard the entire story from Taverner's own lips. The incident is vividly remembered in local tradition, from which many picturesque details are added, especially with reference to the trial, the subsequent righting of young David Haddock, and the ultimate punishment of Davis, on which points Glanvill is rather unsatisfactory. According to this source,[38] Taverner (or Tavney, as the name is locally pronounced) _felt something get up behind him_ as he was riding home, and from the eerie feeling that came over him, as well as from the mouldy smell of the grave that assailed his nostrils, he perceived that his companion was not of this world. Finally the ghost urged Taverner to bring the case into Court, and it came up for trial at Carrickfergus. The Counsel for the opposite side browbeat Taverner for inventing such an absurd and malicious story about his neighbour Davis, and ended by tauntingly desiring him to call his witness. The usher of the Court, with a sceptical sneer, called upon James Haddock, and at the third repetition of the name a clap of thunder shook the Court; a hand was seen on the witness-table, and a voice was heard saying, "Is this enough?" Which very properly convinced the jury. Davis slunk away, and on his homeward road fell from his horse and broke his neck. Instead of propounding Bishop Taylor's shorter catechism, Taverner merely asked the ghost, "Are you happy in your present state?" "If," it replied in a voice of anger, "you were not the man you are, I would tear you in pieces for asking such a question"; and then went off in a flash of fire!!--which, we fear, afforded but too satisfactory an answer to his question. In the following year, 1663, a quaintly humorous story[39] of a most persistent and troublesome ghostly visitant comes from the same part of the world, though in this particular instance its efforts to right the wrong did not produce a lawsuit: the narrator was Mr. Alcock, who appears in the preceding story. One David Hunter, who was neat-herd to the Bishop of Down (Jeremy Taylor) at his house near Portmore, saw one night, as he was carrying a log of wood into the dairy, an old woman whom he did not recognise, but apparently some subtle intuition told him that she was not of mortal mould, for incontinent he flung away the log, and ran terrified into his house. She appeared again to him the next night, and from that on nearly every night for the next nine months. "Whenever she came he must go with her through the Woods at a good round rate; and the poor fellow look'd as if he was bewitch'd and travell'd off his legs." Even if he were in bed he had to rise and follow her wherever she went, and because his wife could not restrain him she would rise and follow him till daybreak, although no apparition was visible to her. The only member of the family that took the matter philosophically was Hunter's little dog, and he became so accustomed to the ghost that he would inevitably bring up the rear of the strange procession--if it be true that the lower classes dispensed with the use of night-garments when in bed, the sight must truly have been a most remarkable one. All this time the ghost afforded no indication as to the nature and object of her frequent appearances. "But one day the said David going over a Hedge into the Highway, she came just against him, and he cry'd out, 'Lord bless me, I would I were dead; shall I never be delivered from this misery?' At which, 'And the Lord bless me too,' says she. 'It was very happy you spoke first, for till then I had no power to speak, though I have followed you so long. My name,' says she, 'is Margaret ----. I lived here before the War, and had one son by my Husband; when he died I married a soldier, by whom I had several children which the former Son maintained, else we must all have starved. He lives beyond the Ban-water; pray go to him and bid him dig under such a hearth, and there he shall find 28_s._ Let him pay what I owe in such a place, and the rest to the charge unpay'd at my Funeral, and go to my Son that lives here, which I had by my latter Husband, and tell him that he lives a very wicked and dissolute life, and is very unnatural and ungrateful to his Brother that nurtured him, and if he does not mend his life God will destroy him.'" David Hunter told her he never knew her. "No," says she, "I died seven years before you came into this Country"; but she promised that, if he would carry her message, she would never hurt him. But he deferred doing what the apparition bade him, with the result that she appeared the night after, as he lay in bed, and struck him on the shoulder very hard; at which he cried out, and reminded her that she had promised to do him no hurt. She replied that was if he did her message; if not, she would kill him. He told her he could not go now, because the waters were out. She said that she was content that he should wait until they were abated; but charged him afterwards not to fail her. Ultimately he did her errand, and afterwards she appeared and thanked him. "For now," said she, "I shall be at rest, and therefore I pray you lift me up from the ground, and I will trouble you no more." So Hunter lifted her up, and declared afterwards that she felt just like a bag of feathers in his arms; so she vanished, and he heard most delicate music as she went off over his head. An important witch-case occurred in Scotland in 1678, the account of which is of interest to us as it incidentally makes mention of the fact that one of the guilty persons had been previously tried and condemned in Ireland for the crime of witchcraft. Four women and one man were strangled and burnt at Paisley for having attempted to kill by magic Sir George Maxwell of Pollock. They had formed a wax image of him, into which the Devil himself had stuck the necessary pins; it was then turned on a spit before the fire, the entire band repeating in unison the name of him whose death they desired to compass. Amongst the women was "one Bessie Weir, who was hanged up the last of the four (_one that had been taken before in Ireland and was condemned to the fyre for malifice before_; and when the hangman there was about to cast her over the gallows, the devill takes her away from them out of their sight; her _dittay_ [indictment] was sent over here to Scotland), who at this tyme, when she was cast off the gallows, there appears a raven, and approaches the hangman within an ell of him, and flyes away again. All the people observed it, and cried out at the sight of it." A clergyman, the Rev. Daniel Williams (evidently the man who was pastor of Wood Street, Dublin, and subsequently founded Dr. Williams's Library in London), relates the manner in which he freed a girl from strange and unpleasant noises which disturbed her; the incident might have developed into something analogous to the Drummer of Tedworth in England, but on the whole works out rather tamely. He tells us that about the year 1678 the niece of Alderman Arundel of Dublin was troubled by noises in her uncle's house, "as by violent Sthroaks on the Wainscots and Chests, in what Chambers she frequented." In the hope that they would cease she removed to a house near Smithfield, but the disturbances pursued her thither, and were no longer heard in her former dwelling. She thereupon betook herself to a little house in Patrick Street, near the gate, but to no purpose. The noises lasted in all for about three months, and were generally at their worst about two o'clock in the morning. Certain ministers spent several nights in prayer with her, heard the strange sounds, but did not succeed in causing their cessation. Finally the narrator, Williams, was called in, and came upon a night agreed to the house, where several persons had assembled. He says: "I preached from Hebrews ii. 18, and contrived to be at Prayer at that Time when the Noise used to be greatest. When I was at Prayer the Woman, kneeling by me, catched violently at my Arm, and afterwards told us that she saw a terrible Sight--but it pleased God there was no noise at all. And from that Time God graciously freed her from all that Disturbance."[41] Many strange stories of apparitions seen in the air come from all parts of the world, and are recorded by writers both ancient and modern, but there are certainly few of them that can equal the account of that weird series of incidents that was seen in the sky by a goodly crowd of ladies and gentlemen in co. Tipperary on 2nd March 1678.[42] "At Poinstown in the county of Tepperary were seen divers strange and prodigious apparitions. On Sunday in the evening several gentlemen and others, after named, walked forth in the fields, and the Sun going down, and appearing somewhat bigger than usual, they discoursed about it, directing their eyes towards the place where the Sun set; when one of the company observed in the air, near the place where the Sun went down, an Arm of a blackish blue colour, with a ruddy complection'd Hand at one end, and at the other end a cross piece with a ring fasten'd to the middle of it, like one end of an anchor, which stood still for a while, and then made northwards, and so disappeared. Next, there appeared at a great distance in the air, from the same part of the sky, something like a Ship coming towards them; and it came so near that they could distinctly perceive the masts, sails, tacklings, and men; she then seem'd to tack about, and sail'd with the stern foremost, northwards, upon a dark smooth sea, which stretched itself from south-west to north-west. Having seem'd thus to sail some few minutes she sunk by degrees into the sea, her stern first; and as she sunk they perceived her men plainly running up the tacklings in the forepart of the Ship, as it were to save themselves from drowning. Then appeared a Fort, with somewhat like a Castle on the top of it; out of the sides of which, by reason of some clouds of smoak and a flash of fire suddenly issuing out, they concluded some shot to be made. The Fort then was immediately divided in two parts, which were in an instant transformed into two exact Ships, like the other they had seen, with their heads towards each other. That towards the south seem'd to chase the other with its stem [stern?] foremost, northwards, till it sunk with its stem first, as the first Ship had done; the other Ship sail'd some time after, and then sunk with its head first. It was observ'd that men were running upon the decks of these two Ships, but they did not see them climb up, as in the last Ship, excepting one man, whom they saw distinctly to get up with much haste upon the very top of the Bowsprit of the second Ship as they were sinking. They supposed the two last Ships were engaged, and fighting, for they saw the likeness of bullets rouling upon the sea, while they were both visible. Then there appear'd a Chariot, drawn with two horses, which turn'd as the Ships had done, northward, and immediately after it came a strange frightful creature, which they concluded to be some kind of serpent, having a head like a snake, and a knotted bunch or bulk at the other end, something resembling a snail's house. This monster came swiftly behind the chariot and gave it a sudden violent blow, then out of the chariot leaped a Bull and a Dog, which follow'd him [the bull], and seem'd to bait him. These also went northwards, as the former had done, the Bull first, holding his head downwards, then the Dog, and then the Chariot, till all sunk down one after another about the same place, and just in the same manner as the former. These meteors being vanished, there were several appearances like ships and other things. The whole time of the vision lasted near an hour, and it was a very clear and calm evening, no cloud seen, no mist, nor any wind stirring. All the phenomena came out of the West or Southwest, and all moved Northwards; they all sunk out of sight much about the same place. Of the whole company there was not any one but saw all these things, as above-written, whose names follow: "Mr. Allye, a minister, living near the place. Lieutenant Dunsterville, and his son. Mr. Grace, his son-in-law. Lieutenant Dwine. Mr. Dwine, his brother. Mr. Christopher Hewelson. Mr. Richard Foster. Mr. Adam Hewelson. Mr. Bates, a schoolmaster. Mr. Larkin. Mrs. Dunsterville. Her daughter-in-law. Her maiden daughter. Mr. Dwine's daughter. Mrs. Grace, her daughter." The first of the sixteen persons who subscribed to the truth of the above was the Rev. Peter Alley, who had been appointed curate of Killenaule Union (Dio. Cashel) in 1672, but was promoted to livings in the same diocese in the autumn of the year the apparitions appeared.[43] There is a townland named Poyntstown in the parish of Buolick and barony of Slievardagh, and another of the same name in the adjoining parish of Fennor. It must have been at one or other of these places that the sights were witnessed, as both parishes are only a few miles distant from Killenaule. Somewhat similar tales, although not so full of marvellous detail, are reported at different periods from the west of Ireland. Such indeed seem to have been the origin of the belief in that mysterious island O'Brasil, lying far out in the western ocean. About the year 1665, a Quaker pretended that he had a revelation from Heaven that he was the man ordained to discover it, and accordingly fitted out a ship for the purpose. In 1674, Captain John Nisbet, formerly of co. Fermanagh, actually landed there! At this period it was located off Ulster.[44] Between the clergy and the witches a continuous state of warfare existed; the former, both Protestant and Roman Catholic, ever assumed the offensive, and were most diligent in their attempts to eradicate such a damnable heresy from the world--indeed with regret it must be confessed that their activity in this respect was frequently the means of stirring up the quiescent Secular Arm, thereby setting on foot bloody persecutions, in the course of which many innocent creatures were tortured and put to a cruel death. Consequently, human nature being what it is, it is not a matter of surprise to learn that witches occasionally appear as the aggressors, and cause the clergy as much uneasiness of mind and body as they possibly could. In or about the year 1670 an Irish clergyman, the Rev. James Shaw, Presbyterian minister of Carnmoney, "was much troubled with witches, one of them appearing in his chamber and showing her face behind his cloke hanging on the clock-pin, and then stepping to the door, disappeared. He was troubled with cats coming into his chamber and bed; he sickens and dyes; his wyfe being dead before him, and, as was supposed, witched." Some equally unpleasant experiences befel his servant. "Before his death his man going out to the stable one night, sees as if it had been a great heap of hay rolling towards him, and then appeared in the shape and likeness of a bair [bear]. He charges it to appear in human shape, which it did. Then he asked, for what cause it troubled him? It bid him come to such a place and it should tell him, which he ingaged to do, yet ere he did it, acquainted his master with it; his master forbids him to keep sic a tryst; he obeyed his master, and went not. That night he should have kept, there is a stone cast at him from the roof of the house, and only touches him, but does not hurt him; whereupon he conceives that had been done to him by the devill, because he kept not tryst; wherefore he resolutely goes forth that night to the place appointed, being a rash bold fellow, and the divill appears in human shape, with his heid running down with blood. He asks him again, why he troubles him? The devill replyes, that he was the spirit of a murdered man who lay under his bed, and buried in the ground, and who was murdered by such a man living in sic a place twenty years ago. The man comes home, searches the place, but finds nothing of bones or anything lyke a grave, and causes send to such a place to search for such a man, but no such a one could be found, and shortly after this man dyes." To which story Mr. Robert Law[45] sagely adds the warning: "It's not good to come in communing terms with Satan, there is a snare in the end of it, but to resyst him by prayer and faith and to turn a deaf ear to his temptations." Whatever explanation we may choose to give of the matter, there is no doubt but at the time the influence of witchcraft was firmly believed in, and the deaths of Mr. Shaw and his wife attributed to supernatural and diabolical sources. The Rev. Patrick Adair, a distinguished contemporary and co-religionist of Mr. Shaw, alludes to the incident as follows in his _True Narrative_: "There had been great ground of jealousy that she [Mrs. Shaw] in her child-bed had been wronged by sorcery of some witches in the parish. After her death, a considerable time, some spirit or spirits troubled the house by casting stones down at the chimney, appearing to the servants, and especially having got one of them, a young man, to keep appointed times and places, wherein it appeared in divers shapes, and spake audibly to him. The people of the parish watched the house while Mr. Shaw at this time lay sick in his bed, and indeed he did not wholly recover, but within a while died, it was thought not without the art of sorcery." Classon Porter in his pamphlet gives an interesting account of the affair, especially of the trend of events between the deaths of the husband and wife respectively; according to this source the servant-boy was an accomplice of the Evil One, not a foolish victim. Mrs. Shaw was dead, and Mr. Shaw lay ill, and so was unable to go to the next monthly meeting of his brethren in the ministry to consult them about these strange occurrences. However, he sent his servant, who was supposed to be implicated in these transactions, with a request that his brethren would examine him about the matter, and deal with him as they thought best. The boy was accordingly questioned on the subject, and having confessed that he had conversed and conferred with the evil spirit, and even assisted it in its diabolical operations, he was commanded for the future to have no dealings of any kind with that spirit. The boy promised obedience, and was dismissed. But the affair made a great commotion in the parish, so great that the brethren not only ordered the Communion (which was then approaching) to be delayed in Carnmoney "until the confusion should fall a little," but appointed two of their number to hold a special fast in the congregation of Carnmoney, "in consideration of the trouble which had come upon the minister's house by a spirit that appeared to some of the family, and the distemper of the minister's own body, with other confusions that had followed this movement in the parish." The ministers appointed to this duty were, Kennedy of Templepatrick, and Patton of Ballyclare, who reported to the next meeting that they had kept the fast at Carnmoney, but with what result is not stated. Mr. Shaw died about two months later. Most wonderful and unpleasant were the bodily contortions that an Irish gentleman suffered, as the result of not having employed a woman who to the useful trade of _sage-femme_ added the mischievous one of witch--it is quite conceivable that a country midwife, with some little knowledge of medicine and the use of simples, would be classed in popular opinion amongst those who had power above the average. "In Ireland there was one Thomas Moor, who had his wife brought to bed of a child, and not having made use of her former midwife, who was _malæ famæ_, she was witched by her so that she dies. The poor man resenting it, she was heard to say that that was nothing to that which should follow. She witches him also, so that a certain tyme of the day, towards night, the Devil did always trouble him, once every day for the space of 10 or 12 yeirs, by possessing his body, and causing it to swell highly, and tearing him so that he foamed, and his face turned about to his neck, having a most fearfull disfigured visage. At which tyme he was held by strong men, out of whose grips when he gott, he would have rushed his head against the wall in hazard of braining himself, and would have leaped up and down fearfully, tumbling now and then on the ground, and cryed out fearfully with a wyld skirle and noise, and this he did ordinarily for the space of ane hour; when the fitt was over he was settled as before; and without the fitt he was in his right mynd, and did know when it came on him, and gave notice of it, so that those appoynted for keeping of him prepared for it. He was, by appointment of the ministers, sent from parish to parish for the ease of his keepers. At length, people being wearied with waiting on him, they devysed a way for ease, which was to put him in a great chyer [chair] fitted for receiving of his body, and so ordered it that it clasped round about so that he could not get out, and then by a pillue [pulley] drew him up off the ground; and when the fitt came on (of whilk he still gave warning) put him in it and drew him up, so that his swinging to and froo did not hurt him, but was keept till the fitt went over save fra danger, and then lett down till that tyme of the next day, when the fitt recurred. Many came to see him in his fitts, but the sight was so astonishing that few desired to come again. He was a man of a good report, yet we may see givin up to Satan's molestations by the wise and soveraigne God. Complains were givin in against her [the midwife] for her malefices to the magistrat there, but in England and Ireland they used not to judge and condemn witches upon presumptions, but are very sparing as to that. He was alive in the year 1679." The concluding words of the story would lead us to infer that trials for witchcraft had taken place in Ireland, of which Law had heard, and from the report of which he formed his opinion relative to the certain amount of common-sense displayed by the magistrates in that country, in contradistinction to Scotland, where the very slightest evidence sufficed to bring persons to torture and death. In the following tale[46] the ghostly portion is rather dwarfed by the strong fairy element which appears in it, and, as we have already shown, many witchcraft cases in Scotland were closely interwoven with the older belief in the "good people"; Lord Orrery, when giving the account to Baxter, considered it to be "the effect of Witchcraft or Devils." The reader is free to take what view he likes of the matter! The Lord Orrery mentioned therein is probably Roger, the second Earl, whom Lodge in his _Peerage_ describes as being "of a serious and contemplative disposition, which led him to seek retirement." If this identification be correct the following event must have occurred between 1679 and 1682, during which years the Earl held the title. The butler of a gentleman living near the Earl was sent to buy a pack of cards. As he was crossing a field he was surprised to see a company of people sitting down at a table loaded with all manner of good things, of which they invited him to partake, and no doubt he would have accepted had not someone whispered in his ear, "Do nothing this company invites you to," upon which he refused. After this they first fell to dancing, and playing on musical instruments, then to work, in both of which occupations they desired the butler to join, but to no purpose. The night following the friendly spirit came to his bedside and warned him not to stir out of doors the next day, for if he did so the mysterious company would obtain possession of him. He remained indoors the greater part of that day, but towards evening he crossed the threshold, and hardly had he done so when a rope was cast about his waist, and he was forcibly dragged away with great swiftness. A horseman coming towards him espied both the man and the two ends of the rope, but could see nothing pulling. By catching hold of one end he succeeded in stopping the man's headlong course, though as a punishment for so doing he received a smart blow on his arm from the other. This came to the ears of the Earl of Orrery, who requested the butler's master to send him to his house, which the latter did. There were then staying with the Earl several persons of quality, two Bishops, and the celebrated Healer, Valentine Greatrakes. Here the malice of the spirits or fairies manifested itself in a different manner. The unfortunate man was suddenly perceived to rise from the ground, and the united efforts of Greatrakes and another were unable to check his upward motion--in fact all that the spectators could do was to keep running under him to protect him from being hurt if the invisible power should suddenly relax its hold. At length he fell, but was caught by them before he reached the ground, and so received no harm. That night the spectre, which had twice proved so friendly, appeared at his bedside with a wooden platter full of some grey liquid, which it bade him drink, as he had brought it to him to cure him of two sorts of fits he was subject to. He refused to drink it, and it would appear from another part of the narration that his refusal was based on the advice of the two Bishops, whom he had consulted in the matter. At this the spirit was very angry, but told him he had a kindness for him, and that if he drank the juice of plantain-roots he would be cured of one sort of fit, but that he should suffer the other one till his death. On asking his visitant who he was, he replied that he was the ghost of a man who had been dead seven years, and who in the days of his flesh had led a loose life, and was therefore condemned to be borne about in a restless condition with the strange company until the Day of Judgment. He added that "if the butler had acknowledged God in all His ways he had not suffered such things by their means," and reminded him that he had not said his prayers the day before he met the company in the field; and thereupon vanished. Had this story rested alone on the evidence of the butler the "two sorts of fits" would have been more than sufficient to account for it, but what are we to say to the fact that all the main points of the narrative were borne out by the Earl, while Mr. Greatrakes (according to Dr. More, the author of _Collections of Philosophical Writings_) declared that he was actually an eye-witness of the man's being carried in the air above their heads. At the instigation of a ghost a lawsuit took place at Downpatrick in 1685. The account of this was given to Baxter[47] by Thomas Emlin, "a worthy preacher in Dublin," as well as by Claudius Gilbert, one of the principal parties therein concerned: the latter's son and namesake proved a liberal benefactor to the Library of Trinity College--some of his books have been consulted for the present work. It appears that for some time past there had been a dispute about the tithes of Drumbeg, a little parish about four miles outside Belfast, between Mr. Gilbert, who was vicar of that town, and the Archdeacon of Down, Lemuel Matthews, whom Cotton in his _Fasti_ describes as "a man of considerable talents and legal knowledge, but of a violent overbearing temper, and a litigous disposition." The parishioners of Drumbeg favoured Gilbert, and generally paid the tithes to him as being the incumbent in possession; but the Archdeacon claimed to be the lawful recipient, in support of which claim he produced a warrant. In the execution of this by his servants at the house of Charles Lostin, one of the parishioners, they offered some violence to his wife Margaret, who refused them entrance, and who died about a month later (1st Nov. 1685) of the injuries she had received at their hands. Being a woman in a bad state of health little notice was taken of her death, until about a month after she appeared to one Thomas Donelson, who had been a spectator of the violence done her, and "affrighted him into a Prosecution of Robert Eccleson, the Criminal. She appeared divers times, but chiefly upon one Lord's Day-Evening, when she fetch'd him with a strange force out of his House into the Yard and Fields adjacent. Before her last coming (for she did so three times that Day) several Neighbours were called in, to whom he gave notice that she was again coming; and beckon'd him to come out; upon which they went to shut the Door, but he forbad it, saying that she looked with a terrible Aspect upon him, when they offered it. But his Friends laid hold on him and embraced him, that he might not go out again; notwithstanding which (a plain evidence of some invisible Power), he was drawn out of their Hands in a surprizing manner, and carried about into the Field and Yard, as before, she charging him to prosecute Justice: which Voice, as also Donelson's reply, the people heard, though they saw no shape. There are many Witnesses of this yet alive, particularly Sarah (Losnam), the Wife of Charles Lostin, Son to the deceased Woman, and one William Holyday and his Wife." This last appearance took place in Holyday's house; there were also present several young persons, as well as Charles and Helen Lostin, children of the deceased, most of whom appeared as witnesses at the trial. Upon this Donelson deposed all he knew of the matter to Mr. Randal Brice, a neighbouring Justice of the Peace; the latter brought the affair before the notice of Sir William Franklin in Belfast Castle. The depositions were subsequently carried to Dublin, and the case was tried at Downpatrick Assizes by Judge John Lindon in 1685.[48] On behalf of the plaintiff, Charles Lostin, Counseller James Macartney acted--if he be the Judge who subsequently makes his appearance in a most important witch-trial at Carrickfergus, he certainly was as excellent an advocate as any plaintiff in a case of witchcraft could possibly desire, as he was strongly prejudiced in favour of the truth of all such matters. "The several Witnesses were heard and sworn, and their Examinations were entred in the Record of that Assizes, to the Amazement and Satisfaction of all that Country and of the Judges, whom I have heard speak of it at that time with much Wonder; insomuch that the said Eccleson hardly escaped with his life, but was Burnt in the Hand." A case of supposed witchcraft occurred in Cork in 1685-6, the account of which is contained in a letter from Christopher Crofts to Sir John Perceval (the third Baronet, and father of the first Earl of Egmont) written on the fifteenth of March in that year. Though the narrator professes his disbelief in such superstitions, yet there seems to have been an unconscious feeling in his mind that his strict administration of the law was the means of bringing the affliction on his child. He says: "My poor boy Jack to all appearances lay dying; he had a convulsion for eight or nine hours. His mother and several others are of opinion he is bewitched, and by the old woman, the mother of Nell Welsh, who is reputed a bad woman; and the child was playing by her that day she was upon her examination, and was taken ill presently after she was committed to Bridewell. But I have not faith to believe it was anything but the hand of God. I have committed the girl to Bridewell, where she shall stay some time."[49] At one period in their history that peculiar people, known amongst themselves as the Society of Friends, and by their opponents as Quakers, appear to have been most troublesome, and to have caused a good deal of annoyance to other religious bodies. Not unnaturally their enemies credited any wild tales which were related about them to their detriment, especially when they had reference to their doctrine of the influence of the Spirit. Dr. More, in his continuation to Glanvill's book, has in the sixth Relation an account of a man, near Cambridge in England, who was possessed by an evil spirit which led him to do the most extraordinary things in its attempt to convert him to Quakerism. In the _Life of Mr. Alexander Peden, late Minister of the Gospel at New Glenluce in Galloway_, who died in 1686, there is an account of a Quakers' meeting in this country at which the Devil appeared in most blasphemous parody of the Holy Ghost. As Mr. Peden was travelling one time by himself in Ireland "the night came on, and a dark mist, which obliged him to go into a house belonging to a Quaker. Mr. Peden said, 'I must beg the favour of the roof of your house all night.' The Quaker said, 'Thou art a stranger, thou art very welcome and shalt be kindly entertained, but I cannot wait upon thee, for I am going to the meeting.' Mr. Peden said, 'I will go along with you.' The Quaker said, 'Thou may, if thou please, but thou must not trouble us.' He said, 'I will be civil.' When they came to the meeting, as their ordinary is, they sat for some time silent, some with their faces to the wall, and others covered. There being a void in the loft above them there came down the appearance of a raven, and sat upon one man's head, who started up immediately, and spoke with such vehemence that the froth flew from his mouth; it went to a second, and he did the same; and to a third, who did as the former two. Mr. Peden sitting near to his landlord said, 'Do you not see that? Ye will not deny it afterwards?' When they dismissed, going home Mr. Peden said to him, 'I always thought there was devilry among you, but never thought that he did appear visibly among you till now that I have seen it.' The poor man fell a-weeping, and said, 'I perceive that God hath sent you to my house, and put it into your heart to go along with me, and permitted the Devil to appear visibly among us this night. I never saw the like before. Let me have the help of your prayers.' After this he became a singular Christian." Mr. Peden was also somewhat of a prophet, and his speciality appears to have been the prognostication of unpleasant events, at all events to persons in Ireland. Two instances will suffice. When in a gentleman's house in co. Antrim he foretold that a maid-servant was _enceinte_, that she would murder the child, and would be punished. "Which accordingly came to pass, and she was burnt at Craig Fergus." On another occasion two messengers were sent to inform the Lord-Lieutenant that the Presbyterian ministers in Ireland should affirm that they had nothing to do with the rebellion at Bothwell Bridge. Mr. Peden said they were on the Devil's errand, but God would arrest them by the gate. Accordingly one was stricken with sickness, while the other fell from his horse and broke his leg. CHAPTER VII A.D. 1688 AN IRISH-AMERICAN WITCH It is often said that Irishmen succeed best out of Ireland; those qualities they possess, which fail to ripen and come to maturity in the lethargic atmosphere of the Green Isle, where nothing matters very much provided public opinion is not run counter to, become factors of history under the sunshine and storm of countries where more ample scope is given for the full development of pugnacity, industry, or state-craft. At any rate, from the days of Duns Scotus and St. Columbanus down to the present, Irishmen have filled, and still fill, positions of the highest importance in every part of the globe as friends of kings, leaders of armies, or preachers of the Truth--of such every Irishman, be his creed or politics what they may, is justly proud. To the lengthy and varied list of honours and offices may be added (in one instance at least) the item of witchcraft. Had the unhappy creature, whose tale is related below, remained in her native land, she would most probably have ended her days in happy oblivion as a poor old woman, in no way distinguishable from hundreds of others in like position; as it was, she attained unenviable notoriety as a powerful witch, and was almost certainly the means of starting the outbreak at Salem. Incidentally the story is of interest as showing that at this time there were some Irish-speaking people in Boston. Shortly after the date of its colonisation the State of Massachusetts became remarkable for its cases of witchcraft; several persons were tried, and some were hanged, for this crime. But at the time about which we are writing there was in Boston a distinguished family of puritanical ministers named Mather. The father, Increase Mather, is to be identified with the person of that name who was Commonwealth "minister of the Gospel" at Magherafelt in Ireland in 1656; his more famous son, Cotton, was a most firm believer in all the possibilities of witchcraft, and it is to his pen that we owe the following. He first gave an account of it to the world in his _Memorable Providences relating to Witchcraft_, published at Boston in 1689, the year after its occurrence; and subsequently reproduced it, though in a more condensed form, in his better-known _Magnalia Christi_ (London, 1702). It is from this latter source that we have taken it, and the principal passages which are omitted in it, but occur in the _Memorable Providences_, are here inserted either within square brackets in the text, or as footnotes. We may now let the reverend gentleman tell his tale in his own quaint and rotund phraseology. "Four children of John Goodwin in Boston which had enjoyed a Religious Education, and answer'd it with a towardly Ingenuity; Children indeed of an exemplary Temper and Carriage, and an Example to all about them for Piety, Honesty, and Industry. These were in the year 1688 arrested by a stupendous Witchcraft. The Eldest of the children, a Daughter of about Thirteen years old, saw fit to examine their Laundress, the Daughter of a Scandalous Irish Woman in the Neighbourhood, whose name was Glover [whose miserable husband before he died had sometimes complained of her, that she was undoubtedly a witch, and that wherever his head was laid, she would quickly arrive unto the punishments due to such a one], about some Linnen that was missing, and the Woman bestowing very bad language on the Child, in the Daughter's Defence, the Child was immediately taken with odd Fits, that carried in them something Diabolical. It was not long before one of her Sisters, with two of her Brothers, were horribly taken with the like Fits, which the most Experienc'd Physicians [particularly our worthy and prudent friend Dr. Thomas Oakes] pronounced Extraordinary and preternatural; and one thing the more confirmed them in this Opinion was, that all the Children were tormented still just the same part of their Bodies, at the same time, though their Pains flew like swift lightning from one part to another, and they were kept so far asunder that they neither saw nor heard each other's Complaints. At nine or ten a-clock at Night they still had a Release from their miseries, and slept all Night pretty comfortably. But when the Day came they were most miserably handled. Sometimes they were Deaf, sometimes Dumb, and sometimes Blind, and often all this at once. Their tongues would be drawn down their throats, and then pull'd out upon their Chins, to a prodigious Length. Their Mouths were forc'd open to such a Wideness, that their Jaws were out of Joint; and anon clap together again, with a Force like a Spring-lock: and the like would happen to their Shoulder-blades, their Elbows and Hand-wrists, and several of their Joints.... Their Necks would be broken, so that their Neck-bone would seem dissolv'd unto them that felt after it, and yet on the sudden it would become again so stiff, that there was no stirring of their Heads; yea, their Heads would be twisted almost round. And if the main Force of their Friends at any time obstructed a dangerous Motion which they seemed upon, they would roar exceedingly. "But the Magistrates being awakened by the Noise of these Grievous and Horrid Occurrences, examin'd the Person who was under the suspicion of having employ'd these Troublesome Dæmons, and she gave such a Wretched Account of herself that she was committed unto the Gaoler's Custody. [Goodwin had no proof that could have done her any hurt; but the hag had not power to deny her interest in the enchantment of the children; and when she was asked, Whether she believed there was a God? her answer was too blasphemous and horrible for any pen of mine to mention. Upon the commitment of this extraordinary woman all the children had some present ease, until one related to her, accidentally meeting one or two of them, entertain'd them with her blessing, that is railing, upon which three of them fell ill again.] "It was not long before this Woman was brought upon her Trial; but then [thro' the efficacy of a charm, I suppose, used upon her by one or some of her crue] the Court could have no Answers from her but in the Irish, which was her Native Language, although she understood English very well, and had accustom'd her whole Family to none but English in her former Conversation. [It was long before she could with any direct answers plead unto her Indictment, and when she did plead] it was with owning and bragging rather than denial of her Guilt. And the Interpreters, by whom the Communication between the Bench and the Barr was managed, were made sensible that a Spell had been laid by another Witch on this, to prevent her telling Tales, by confining her to a language which 'twas hoped nobody would understand. The Woman's House being searched, several Images, or Poppets, or Babies, made of Raggs and stuffed with Goat's Hair, were found; when these were produced the vile Woman confess'd, that her way to torment the Objects of her Malice was by wetting of her Finger with her Spittle, and stroaking of these little Images. The abus'd Children were then produced in Court, and the Woman still kept stooping and shrinking, as one that was almost prest to death with a mighty Weight upon her. But one of the Images being brought to her, she odly and swiftly started up, and snatch'd it into her Hand. But she had no sooner snatch'd it than one of the Children fell into sad Fits before the whole Assembly. The Judges had their just Apprehensions at this, and carefully causing a repetition of the Experiment, they still found the same Event of it, tho' the Children saw not when the Hand of the Witch was laid upon the Images. They ask'd her, _Whether she had any to stand by her?_ She reply'd, _She had_; and looking very fixtly into the air, she added, _No, he's gone!_ and then acknowledged she had One, who was her Prince, with whom she mention'd I know not what Communion. For which cause the Night after she was heard expostulating with a Devil for his thus deserting her, telling him, that because he had served her so basely and falsely she had confessed all. "However to make all clear the Court appointed five or six Physicians to examine her very strictly, whether she were no way craz'd in her Intellectuals. Divers Hours did they spend with her, and in all that while no Discourse came from her but what was agreeable; particularly when they ask'd her what she thought would become of her Soul, she reply'd, _You ask me a very solemn Question, and I cannot tell what to say to it_. She profest herself a Roman Catholick, and could recite her Paternoster in Latin very readily, but there was one Clause or two always too hard for her, whereof she said, _She could not repeat it, if she might have all the world_.[50] In the Upshot the Doctors returned her Compos Mentis, and Sentence of Death was past upon her. "Divers Days past between her being arraign'd and condemn'd; and in this time one Hughes testify'd, that her Neighbour (called Howen), who was cruelly bewitch'd unto Death about six years before, laid her Death to the charge of this Woman [she had seen Glover sometimes come down her chimney], and bid her, the said Hughes, to remember this; for within six years there would be occasion to mention it. [This Hughes now preparing her testimony, immediately one of her children, a fine boy well grown towards youth] was presently taken ill in the same woful manner that Goodwin's were; and particularly the Boy in the Night cry'd out, that a Black Person with a Blue Cap in the Room tortur'd him, and that they try'd with their Hand in the Bed for to pull out his Bowels. The Mother of the Boy went unto Glover on the day following, and asked her, _Why she tortured her poor Lad at such a rate?_ Glover answered, _Because of the Wrong she had receiv'd from her_; and boasted _That she had come at him as a Black Person with a Blue Cap, and with her Hand in the Bed would have pulled his Bowels out, but could not_. Hughes denied that she had wronged her; and Glover then desiring to see the Boy, wished him well; upon which he had no more of his Indisposition. "After the Condemnation of the Woman, I did my self give divers Visits to her, wherein she told me, that she did use to be at Meetings, where her Prince with Four more were present. She told me who the Four were, and plainly said, _That her Prince was the Devil_. [She entertained me with nothing but Irish, which language I had not learning enough to understand without an interpreter.] When I told her that, and how her Prince had deserted her, she reply'd [I think in English, and with passion too], _If it be so, I am sorry for that_. And when she declined answering some things that I ask'd her, she told me, _She could give me a full answer, but her Spirits would not give her leave: nor could she consent_, she said, _without this leave that I should pray for her_. [However against her will I pray'd with her, which if it were a fault it was in excess of pity. When I had done she thanked me with many good words, but I was no sooner out of her sight than she took a stone, a long and slender stone, and with her finger and spittle fell to tormenting it; though whom or what she meant I had the mercy never to understand.] At her Execution she said the afflicted Children should not be relieved by her Death, for others besides she had a hand in their Affliction." Mrs. Glover was hanged, but in accordance with her dying words the young Goodwins experienced no relief from their torments, or, as Cotton Mather characteristically puts it, "the Three Children continued in their Furnace, as before; and it grew rather seven times hotter than before," and as this was brought about by our Irish witch it may not be out of place to give some extracts relative to the extraordinary adventures that befel them. "In their Fits they cried out of _They_ and _Them_ as the Authors of all their Miseries; but who that _They_ and _Them_ were, they were not able to declare. Yet at last one of the Children was able to discern their Shapes, and utter their names. A Blow at the Place where they saw the Spectre was always felt by the Boy himself in that part of his Body that answer'd what might be stricken at. And this tho' his Back were turned, and the thing so done, that there could be no Collusion in it. But a Blow at the Spectre always helped him too, for he would have a respite from his Ails a considerable while, and the Spectre would be gone. Yea, 'twas very credibly affirmed, that a dangerous Woman or two in the Town received Wounds by the Blows thus given to their spectres.... Sometimes they would be very mad, and then they would climb over high Fences, yea, they would fly like Geese, and be carry'd with an incredible Swiftness through the Air, having but just their Toes now and then upon the Ground (sometimes not once in Twenty Foot), and their Arms wav'd like the Wings of a Bird.... If they were bidden to do a _needless_ thing (as to rub a _clean_ Table) they were able to do it unmolested; but if to do any _useful_ thing (as to rub a _dirty_ Table), they would presently, with many Torments, be made incapable." Finally Cotton Mather took the eldest of the three children, a girl, to his own house, partly out of compassion for her parents, but chiefly, as he tells us, "that I might be a critical Eye-witness of things that would enable me to confute the Sadducism of this Debauched Age"--and certainly her antics should have provided him with a quiverful of arguments against the "Sadducees." "In her Fits she would cough up a Ball as big as a small Egg into the side of her Windpipe that would near choak her, till by Stroaking and by Drinking it was again carry'd down. When I pray'd in the Room her Hands were with a _strong_, though not _even_, Force clapt upon her Ears. And when her Hands were by our Force pull'd away, she cry'd out, _They make such a noise, I cannot hear a word_. She complained that Glover's chain was upon her Leg; and assaying to go, her Gate was exactly such as the chain'd Witch had before she dy'd. [Sometimes she imagined she was mounted on horseback], and setting herself in a riding Posture, she would in her Chair be agitated, as one sometimes Ambling, sometimes Trotting, and sometimes Galloping very furiously. In these Motions we could not perceive that she was mov'd by the Stress of her Feet upon the Ground, for often she touched it not. When she had rode a Minute or two, she would seem to be at a Rendezvous with Them that were her Company, and there she would maintain a Discourse with them, asking them many Questions concerning her self. At length she pretended that her Horse could ride up the Stairs; and unto admiration she rode (that is, was toss'd as one that rode) up the Stair." Subsequently, when the clergy of Boston and Charleston had kept a day of prayer with fasting, the children improved until they became perfectly well. But in an unlucky moment Mr. Mather determined to entertain his congregation with a sermon on these _Memorable Providences_, and the study of this again affected the girl. Formerly, in the worst of her attacks, she had been most dutiful and respectful to Cotton Mather, "but now her whole Carriage to me was with a Sauciness which I am not us'd anywhere to be treated withal. She would knock at my Study door, affirming _that some one below would be glad to see me_, tho' there was none that ask'd for me. And when I chid her for telling what was false, her Answer was _that Mrs. Mather is always glad to see you_! Once when lying in a fit, as he that was praying was alluding to the Words of the Canaanitess, and saying, _Lord, have mercy on a Daughter vext with a Devil_, there came a big, but low, voice from her, in which the Spectators did not see her Mouth to move, _There's two or three of us_." Finally after three days of fasting and prayer the children were completely cured, but the storm thus raised was not easily allayed. The old woman seems, like many another of her years and sex, to have been of a choleric and crotchety disposition, while it is also quite within the bounds of possibility that she had become so infected with the popular superstition (and who could blame her!) that she actually believed herself to be capable of harming people by merely stroking dolls or stones with her finger. That not uncommon form of mental torture employed, namely, the making her repeat the Lord's Prayer, all the time watching carefully for _lapsus linguæ_, and thence drawing deductions as to her being in league with the Devil, was particularly absurd in the case of such a person as Mrs. Glover, whose memory was confused by age. At any rate there are probably very few of us at the present day who would care to be forced to say in public either that Prayer or the Apostles' Creed if we knew that our lives depended on absolute verbal accuracy, and that the slightest slip might mean death. It is possible, too, that some of the fits of Goodwin's children were due to conscious imposture; and certain it is, from a study of the whole case, that the deep-rooted belief of the self-opinionated Cotton Mather in the truth of such things, as well as the flattering his vanity received, contributed very largely to the success of the whole incident. Cotton Mather's account of the case was very highly praised by Mr. Baxter in his _Certainty of the World of Spirits_, and this so delighted Mr. Mather that he distributed the latter work throughout New England as being one that should convince the most obdurate "Sadducee." The result of this was speedily seen. Three years after the Boston incident a similar outbreak occurred amongst some young persons in the house of the Rev. Samuel Parris at Salem, then a small village about nineteen miles north-east of Boston. The contagion spread with appalling rapidity; numerous persons were brought to trial, of whom, in the space of sixteen months, nineteen (_twenty-five_ according to Ashton)[51] were hanged, one of them being a clergyman, the Rev. George Burroughs, about one hundred and fifty were put in prison, and more than two hundred accused of witchcraft. Finally the Government put a stop to the trials, and released the accused in April 1693; Mr. Parris, in whose house the affair commenced, was dismissed from his cure, as being the "Beginner and Procurer of the sorest Afflictions," but, directly and indirectly, Mrs. Glover may be considered the first cause, for if the case of Goodwin's children had not occurred at Boston it is more than probable the village of Salem would never have been plagued as it was. CHAPTER VIII A.D. 1689-1720 PORTENT ON ENTRY OF JAMES II--WITCHCRAFT IN CO. ANTRIM--TRADITIONAL VERSION OF SAME--EVENTS PRECEDING THE ISLAND-MAGEE WITCH-TRIAL.--THE TRIAL ITSELF--DR. FRANCIS HUTCHINSON. The account of the following portent is given us in Aubrey's _Miscellanies_. "When King James II first entered Dublin after his Arrival from France, 1689, one of the Gentlemen that bore the Mace before him, stumbled without any rub in his way, or other visible occasion. The Mace fell out of his hands, and the little Cross upon the Crown thereof stuck fast between two Stones in the Street. This is well known all over Ireland, and did much trouble King James himself with many of his chief Attendants"; but no doubt greatly raised the hopes of his enemies. A few years later a witch-story comes from the north of Ireland, and is related by George Sinclair in his _Satan's Invisible World displayed_ (in later editions, not in the first). This book, by the way, seems to have been extremely popular, as it was reprinted several times, even as late as 1871. "At Antrim in Ireland a little girl of nineteen (nine?) years of age, inferior to none in the place for beauty, education, and birth, innocently put a leaf of sorrel which she had got from a witch into her mouth, after she had given the begging witch bread and beer at the door; it was scarce swallowed by her, but she began to be tortured in the bowels, to tremble all over, and even was convulsive, and in fine to swoon away as dead. The doctor used remedies on the 9th of May 1698, at which time it happened, but to no purpose, the child continued in a most terrible paroxysm; whereupon they sent for the minister, who scarce had laid his hand upon her when she was turned by the demon in the most dreadful shapes. She began first to rowl herself about, then to vomit needles, pins, hairs, feathers, bottoms of thread, pieces of glass, window-nails, nails drawn out of a cart or coach-wheel, an iron knife about a span long, eggs, and fish-shells; and when the witch came near the place, or looked to the house, though at the distance of two hundred paces from where the child was, she was in worse torment, insomuch that no life was expected from the child till the witch was removed to some greater distance. The witch was apprehended, condemned, strangled, and burnt, and was desired to undo the incantation immediately before strangling; but said she could not, by reason others had done against her likewise. But the wretch confessed the same, with many more. The child was about the middle of September thereafter carried to a gentleman's house, where there were many other things scarce credible, but that several ministers and the gentleman have attested the same. The relation is to be seen in a pamphlet printed 1699, and entitled _The Bewitching of a Child in Ireland_." Baxter in his _Certainty of the World of Spirits_ quotes what at first sight appears to be the same case, but places it at Utrecht, and dates it 1625. But it is quite possible for a similar incident to have occurred on the Continent as well as in Ireland; many cases of witchcraft happening at widely different places and dates have points of close resemblance. Sinclair's story appears to be based on an actual trial for witchcraft in co. Antrim, the more so as he has drawn his information from a pamphlet on the subject which was printed the year after its occurrence. The mention of this latter is particularly interesting; it was probably locally printed, but there appears to be no means of tracing it, and indeed it must have been thumbed out of existence many years ago. The above story, marvellous though it may seem, is capable of explanation. The oxalic acid in sorrel is an irritant poison, causing retching and violent pains. But when once the suspicion of _witchcraft_ arose the ejection of such an extraordinary collection of miscellaneous articles followed quite as a matter of course--it would, so to speak, have been altogether against the rules of the game for the girl to have got rid of anything else at that particular date. Classon Porter gives what he considers to be the traditional version of the above. According to it the supposed witch was a poor old woman, who was driven mad by the cruel and barbarous treatment which she received from many of her neighbours on the ground of her being a witch. To escape this treatment she sought refuge in a cave, which was in a field attached to the old (not the present) meeting-house in Antrim. Her living in such a place being thought a confirmation of what was alleged against her, she was thereupon stabbed to death, and her body cut in pieces, which were then scattered over the places where she was supposed to have exercised her evil influence. For some years after this terrible tragedy her ghost, in the form of a goat, was believed to haunt the session-house of the old meeting-house near which she had met her cruel fate; it was popularly known as MacGregor's ghost, this having been the name of the man who was sexton of the meeting-house when these things took place, and who probably had been concerned in the murder. So far Classon Porter. But we very much doubt if the above has really any connection with the Antrim witch-case of 1698. It seems more probable that it occurred at a later date, possibly after the Island-Magee trial, and thus would be an instance of one of those outbursts of cruelty on the part of a mob rendered ferocious by ignorance and superstition, of which examples are to be found in England during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. On one occasion an Irish witch or wise woman was the means of having a Scotch girl delated by the Kirk for using charms at Hallow-Eve apparently for the purpose of discovering who her future husband should be. She confessed that "at the instigation of an old woman from Ireland she brought in a pint of water from a well which brides and burials pass over, and dipt her shirt into it, and hung it before the fire; that she either dreamed, or else there came something and turned about the chair on which her shirt was, but she could not well see what it was." Her sentence was a rebuke before the congregation; considering the state of Scotland at that period it must be admitted she escaped very well.[52] We now come to the last instance of witches being tried and convicted in Ireland as offenders against the laws of the realm--the celebrated Island-Magee case. There is a very scarce published account of this, said to have been compiled by an eye-witness, and entitled: "A Narrative of the sufferings of a young girl called Mary Dunbar, who was strangely molested by spirits and witches, at Mr. James Haltridge's house, parish of Island Magee, near Carrigfergus, in the County of Antrim, and Province of Ulster, in Ireland, and in some other places to which she was removed during her disorder; as also of the aforesaid Mr. Haltridge's house being haunted by spirits in the latter end of 1710 and beginning of 1711." This continued for many years in manuscript, but in 1822 it was printed as a pamphlet at Belfast, under the editorship of M'Skimin, author of the _History of Carrigfergus_. This pamphlet we have not seen; but full particulars of the entire case can be obtained by combining the following sources of information, viz. Wright's _Narratives of Sorcery and Witchcraft_; the _Dublin University Magazine_, vol. lxxxii.; a letter by Dr. Tisdall, the Vicar of Belfast, in the _Hibernian Magazine_ for January 1775; Classon Porter's pamphlet; M'Skimin's _History of Carrigfergus_ (ed. M'Crum, 1909); while the depositions that were taken are published in Young's _Historical Notices of Old Belfast_, pp. 161-4. The actual trial of the witches was preceded by a series of most extraordinary incidents. In September 1710, Mrs. Anne Haltridge, widow of the Rev. John Haltridge, late Presbyterian minister at Island Magee, while staying in the house of her son, James Haltridge of the same place, suffered great annoyance every night from some invisible object, which threw stones and turf at her bed, the force of the blow often causing the curtains to open, and even drawing them from one end of the bed to the other. About the same time, also, the pillows were taken from under her head, and the clothes pulled off; and though a strict search was made, nothing could be discovered. Continuing to be annoyed in this way she removed to another room, being afraid to remain in her own any longer. Then about the 11th of December, as she was sitting in the twilight at the kitchen fire, a little boy came in and sat down beside her. He appeared to be about eleven or twelve years old, with short black hair, having an old black bonnet on his head, a half-worn blanket about him trailing on the floor, and a torn vest under it, and kept his face covered with the blanket held before it. Mrs. Haltridge asked him several questions: Where he came from? Where he was going? Was he cold or hungry? and so on; but instead of answering her he got up and danced very nimbly round the kitchen, and then ran out of the house and disappeared in the cow-shed. The servants ran after him, but he was nowhere to be seen; when they returned to the house, however, there he was beside them. They tried to catch him, but every time they attempted it he ran off and could not be found. At last one of the servants, seeing the master's dog coming in, cried out that her master was returning home, and that he would soon catch the troublesome creature, upon which he immediately vanished, nor were they troubled with him again till February 1711. On the 11th of that month, which happened to be a Sunday, old Mrs. Haltridge was reading Dr. Wedderburn's _Sermons on the Covenant_, when, laying the book aside for a little while, nobody being in the room all the time, it was suddenly taken away. She looked for it everywhere, but could not find it. On the following day the apparition already referred to came to the house, and breaking a pane of glass in one of the windows, thrust in his hand with the missing volume in it. He began to talk with one of the servants, Margaret Spear, and told her that he had taken the book when everybody was down in the kitchen, and that her mistress would never get it again. The girl asked him if he could read it, to which he replied that he could, adding that the Devil had taught him. Upon hearing this extraordinary confession she exclaimed, "The Lord bless me from thee! Thou hast got ill lear (learning)." He told her she might bless herself as often as she liked, but that it could not save her; whereupon he produced a sword, and threatened to kill everybody in the house. This frightened her so much that she ran into the parlour and fastened the door, but the apparition laughed at her, and declared that he could come in by the smallest hole in the house like a cat or mouse, as the Devil could make him anything he pleased. He then took up a large stone, and hurled it through the parlour window, which, upon trial, could not be put out at the same place. A little after the servant and child looked out, and saw the apparition catching the turkey-cock, which he threw over his shoulder, holding him by the tail; and the bird making a great sputter with his feet, the stolen book was spurred out of the loop in the blanket where the boy had put it. He then leaped over a wall with the turkey-cock on his back. Presently the girl saw him endeavouring to draw his sword to kill the bird, but it escaped. Missing the book out of his blanket he ran nimbly up and down in search of it, and then with a club came and broke the glass of the parlour window. The girl again peeped out through the kitchen window, and saw him digging with his sword. She summoned up courage to ask him what he was doing, and he answered, "Making a grave for a corpse which will come out of this house very soon." He refused, however, to say who it would be, but having delivered himself of this enlivening piece of information, flew over the hedge as if he had been a bird. For a day or two following nothing happened, but on the morning of the 15th the clothes were mysteriously taken off Mrs. Haltridge's bed, and laid in a bundle behind it. Being put back by some of the family they were again removed, and this time folded up and placed under a large table which happened to be in the room. Again they were laid in order on the bed, and again they were taken off, and this third time made up in the shape of a corpse, or something that very closely resembled it. When this strange news spread through the neighbourhood many persons came to the house, and, after a thorough investigation lest there might be a trick in the matter, were obliged to acknowledge that there was some invisible agent at work. Mr. Robert Sinclair, the Presbyterian minister of the place, with John Man and Reynold Leaths, two of his Elders, stayed the whole of that day and the following night with the distressed family, spending much of the time in prayer. At night Mrs. Haltridge went to bed as usual in the haunted room, but got very little rest, and at about twelve o'clock she cried out suddenly as if in great pain. Upon Mr. Sinclair asking her what was the matter, she said she felt as if a knife had been stuck into her back. Next morning she quitted the haunted room and went to another; but the violent pain never left her back, and at the end of the week, on the 22nd of February, she died. During her illness the clothes were frequently taken off the bed which she occupied, and made up like a corpse, and even when a table and chairs were laid upon them to keep them on, they were mysteriously removed without any noise, and made up as before; but this never happened when anyone was in the room. The evening before she died they were taken off as usual; but this time, instead of being made up in the customary way, they were folded with great care, and laid in a chest upstairs, where they were only found after a great deal of searching. We now reach the account of the witchcraft proper, and the consequent trial. In or about the 27th of February 1711, a girl about eighteen years of age, Miss Mary Dunbar, whom Dr. Tisdall describes as "having an open and innocent countenance, and being a very intelligent young person," came to stay with Mrs. Haltridge, junior, to keep her company after her mother-in-law's death. A rumour was afloat that the latter had been bewitched into her grave, and this could not fail to have its effect on Miss Dunbar. Accordingly on the night of her arrival her troubles began. When she retired to her bedroom, accompanied by another girl, they were surprised to find that a new mantle and some other wearing apparel had been taken out of a trunk and scattered through the house. Going to look for the missing articles, they found lying on the parlour floor an apron which two days before had been locked up in another apartment. This apron, when they found it, was rolled up tight, and tied fast with a string of its own material, which had upon it five strange knots[53] (Tisdall[54] says _nine_). These she proceeded to unloose, and having done so, she found a flannel cap, which had belonged to old Mrs. Haltridge, wrapped up in the middle of the apron. When she saw this she was frightened, and threw both cap and apron to young Mrs. Haltridge, who also was alarmed, thinking that the mysterious knots boded evil to some inmate of the house. That evening Miss Dunbar was seized with a most violent fit, and, recovering, cried out that a knife was run through her thigh, and that she was most grievously afflicted by three women, whom she described particularly, but did not then give any account of their names. About midnight she was seized with a second fit; when she saw in her vision seven or eight women who conversed together, and in their conversation called each other by their names. When she came out of her fit she gave their names as Janet Liston, Elizabeth Cellor, Kate M'Calmont, Janet Carson, Janet Mean, Latimer, and one whom they termed Mrs. Ann. She gave so minute a description of them that several of them were guessed at, and sent from different parts of the district to the "Afflicted," as Dr. Tisdall terms her, whom she distinguished from many other women that were brought with them. "She was constantly more afflicted as they approached the house; particularly there was one Latimer, who had been sent from Carrigfergus privately by Mr. Adair, the dissenting teacher; who, when she came to the house where the Afflicted was, viz. in Island Magee, none of them suspected her, but the Afflicted fell into a fit as she came near the house, and recovering when the woman was in the chamber the first words she said were, _O Latimer, Latimer_ (which was her name), and her description agreed most exactly to the person. After this manner were all the rest discovered; and at one time she singled out one of her tormentors amongst thirty whom they brought in to see if they could deceive her either in the name or description of the accused person. All this was sworn to by persons that were present, as having heard it from the Afflicted as she recovered from her several fits." Between the 3rd and the 24th of March depositions relative to various aspects of the case were sworn to by several people, and the Mayor of Carrigfergus issued a warrant for the arrest of all suspected persons. Seven women were arrested; their names were: Janet Mean, of Braid Island. Jane Latimer, of Irish quarter, Carrigfergus. Margaret Mitchell, of Kilroot. Catherine M'Calmont, of Island Magee. Janet Liston, _alias_ Sellar, of same. Elizabeth Sellar, of same. Janet Carson, of same. Her worst tormentors seem to have been taken into custody at an early stage in the proceedings, for Miss Dunbar stated in her deposition, made on the 12th of March, that since their arrest she received no annoyance, except from "Mrs. Ann, and another woman blind of an eye, who told her when Mr. Robb, the curate, was going to pray with and for her, that she should be little the better for his prayers, for they would hinder her from hearing them, which they accordingly did." In one of her attacks Miss Dunbar was informed by this "Mrs. Ann" that she should never be discovered by her name, as the rest had been, but she seems to have overlooked the fact that her victim was quite capable of giving an accurate _description_ of her, which she accordingly did, and thus was the means of bringing about the apprehension of one Margaret Mitchell, upon which she became free from all annoyance, except that she felt something strange in her stomach which she would be glad to get rid of--and did, as we shall see presently. With regard to the woman blind in one eye, we learn from another deponent that three women thus disfigured were brought to her, but she declared that they never troubled her. "One Jane Miller, of Carrigfergus, blind of an eye, being sent for, as soon as she drew near the house the said Mary, who did not know of her coming, became very much afraid, faintish, and sweat, and as soon as she came into the room the said Mary fell into such a violent fit of pains that three men were scarce able to hold her, and cryed out, 'For Christ's sake, take the Devil out of the room.' And being asked, said the third woman, for she was the woman that did torment her." Yet Jane Miller does not seem to have been arrested. In one of the earliest of the depositions, that sworn by James Hill on the 5th of March, we find an extraordinary incident recorded, which seems to show that at least one of the accused was a victim of religious mania. He states that on the 1st of March, "he being in the house of William Sellar of Island Magee, one Mary Twmain (_sic!_) came to the said house and called out Janet Liston to speak to her, and that after the said Janet came in again she fell a-trembling, and told this Deponent that the said Mary had been desiring her to go to Mr. Haltridge's to see Mary Dunbar, but she declared she would not go for all Island Magee, except Mr. Sinclair would come for her, and said: If the plague of God was on her (Mary Dunbar), the plague of God be on them altogether; the Devil be with them if he was among them. If God had taken her health from her, God give her health: if the Devil had taken it from her, the Devil give it her. And then added: O misbelieving ones, eating and drinking damnation to themselves, crucifying Christ afresh, and taking all out of the hands of the Devil!" Finally the accused were brought up for trial at Carrigfergus before Judges Upton and Macartney[55] on 31st March 1711. Amongst the witnesses examined were Mr. Skeffington, curate of Larne; Mr. Ogilvie, Presbyterian minister of Larne; Mr. Adair, Presbyterian minister of Carrigfergus; Mr. Cobham, Presbyterian minister of Broad Island; Mr. Edmonstone, of Red Hall, and others. The proceedings commenced at six o'clock in the morning, and lasted until two in the afternoon. An abstract of the evidence was made by Dr. Tisdall, who was present in Court during the trial, and from whose letter we extract the following passages--many of the foregoing facts(!) being also adduced. "It was sworn to by most of the evidences that in some of her fits three strong men were scarce able to hold her down, that she would mutter to herself, and speak some words distinctly, and tell everything she had said in her conversation with the witches, and how she came to say such things, which she spoke when in her fits." "In her fits she often had her tongue thrust into her windpipe in such a manner that she was like to choak, and the root seemed pulled up into her mouth. Upon her recovery she complained extremely of one Mean, who had twisted her tongue; and told the Court that she had tore her throat, and tortured her violently by reason of her crooked fingers and swelled knuckles. The woman was called to the Bar upon this evidence, and ordered to show her hand; it was really amazing to see the exact agreement betwixt the description of the Afflicted and the hand of the supposed tormentor; all the joints were distorted and the tendons shrivelled up, as she had described." "One of the men who had held her in a fit swore she had nothing visible on her arms when he took hold of them, and that all in the room saw some worsted yarn tied round her wrist, which was put on invisibly; there were upon this string seven double knots and one single one. In another fit she cried out that she was grievously tormented with a pain about her knee; upon which the women in the room looked at her knee, and found a fillet tied fast about it; her mother swore to the fillet, that it was the same she had given her that morning, and had seen it about her head; this had also seven double knots and one single one." "Her mother was advised by a Roman Catholic priest to use a counter-charm, which was to write some words out of the first chapter of St. John's Gospel in a paper, and to tie the paper with an incle three times round her neck, knotted each time. This charm the girl herself declined; but the mother, in one of the times of her being afflicted, used it. She was in a violent fit upon the bed held down by a man, and, recovering a little, complained grievously of a pain in her back and about her middle; immediately the company discovered the said incle tied round her middle with seven double knots and one single one: this was sworn to by several. The man who held the Afflicted was asked by the Judge if it were possible she could reach the incle about her neck while he held her; he said it was not, by the virtue of his oath, he having her hands fast down." "The Afflicted, during one of her fits, was observed by several persons to slide off the bed in an unaccountable manner, and to be laid gently on the ground as if supported and drawn invisibly. Upon her recovery she told them the several persons who had drawn her in that manner, with the intention, as they told her, of bearing her out of the window; but that she reflecting at that time, and calling upon God in her mind, they let her drop on the floor." "The Afflicted, recovering from a fit, told the persons present that her tormentors had declared that she should not have power to go over the threshold of the chamber-door; the evidence declared that they had several times attempted to lead her out of the door, and that she was as often thrown into fits as they had brought her to the said threshold; that to pursue the experiment further they had the said threshold taken up, upon which they were immediately struck with so strong a smell of brimstone that they were scarce able to bear it; that the stench spread through the whole house, and afflicted several to that degree that they fell sick in their stomachs, and were much disordered." The above were the principal facts sworn to in the Court, to which most of the witnesses gave their joint testimony. "There was a great quantity of things produced in Court, and sworn to be what she vomited out of her throat. I had them all in my hand, and found there was a great quantity of feathers, cotton, yarn, pins, and two large waistcoat buttons, at least as much as would fill my hand. They gave evidence to the Court they had seen those very things coming out of her mouth, and had received them into their hands as she threw them up." Her tormentors had told Miss Dunbar that she should have no power to give evidence against them in Court. "She was accordingly that day before the trial struck dumb, and so continued in Court during the whole trial, but had no violent fit. I saw her in Court cast her eyes about in a wild distracted manner, and it was then thought she was recovering from her fit [of dumbness], and it was hoped she would give her own evidence. I observed, as they were raising her up, she sank into the arms of a person who held her, closed her eyes, and seemed perfectly senseless and motionless. I went to see her after the trial; she told me she knew not where she was when in Court; that she had been afflicted all that time by three persons, of whom she gave a particular description both of their proportion, habits, hair, features, and complexion, and said she had never seen them till the day before the trial." The prisoners had no lawyer to defend them, while it is hardly necessary to say that no medical evidence as to the state of health of Miss Dunbar was heard. When the witnesses had been examined the accused were ordered to make their defence. They all positively denied the charge of witchcraft; one with the worst looks, who was therefore the greatest suspect, called God to witness that she was wronged. Their characters were inquired into, and some were reported unfavourably of, which seemed to be rather due to their ill appearance than to any facts proved against them. "It was made appear on oath that most of them had received the Communion, some of them very lately, that several of them had been laborious, industrious people, and had frequently been known to pray with their families, both publickly and privately; most of them could say the Lord's Prayer, which it is generally said they learnt in prison, they being every one Presbyterians." "Judge Upton summed up the whole evidence with great exactness and perspicuity, notwithstanding the confused manner in which it was offered. He seemed entirely of opinion that the jury could not bring them in guilty upon the sole testimony of the afflicted person's visionary images. He said he could not doubt but that the whole matter was preternatural and diabolical, but he conceived that, had the persons accused been really witches and in compact with the Devil, it could hardly be presumed that they should be such constant attenders upon Divine Service, both in public and private." Unfortunately his Brother on the Bench was not so open-minded. Judge Macartney, who is almost certainly the Counsel for the plaintiff in the Lostin case, differed altogether from him, and thought that the jury might well bring them in guilty. The twelve good men and true lost no time in doing so, and, in accordance with the Statute, the prisoners were sentenced to a year's imprisonment, and to stand in the pillory four times during that period. It is said that when placed in this relic of barbarism the unfortunate wretches were pelted by the mob with eggs and cabbage-stalks to such an extent that one of them had an eye knocked out. And thus ended the last trial for witchcraft in Ireland. It is significant that witch-trials stopped in all three countries within a decade of each other. The last condemnation in England occurred in 1712, when a woman in Hertfordshire, Jane Wenham, was found guilty by a jury, but was reprieved at the representation of the Judge; another trial occurred in 1717, but the accused were acquitted. In Scotland the Sheriff-depute of Sutherland passed sentence of death on a woman (though apparently illegally) in 1722, who was consequently strangled and burnt. Ashton indeed states (p. 192) that the last execution in Ireland occurred at Glarus, when a servant was burnt as a witch in 1786. This would be extremely interesting, were it not for the fact that it is utterly incorrect. It is clear from what J. Français says that this happened at Glaris _in Switzerland_, and was the last instance of judicial condemnation and execution in Europe. We have drawn attention to this lest it should mislead others, as it did us. Before concluding this chapter it will not be out of place to mention the fact that one of the most strenuous writers against witchcraft subsequently ornamented the Irish Episcopal Bench. This was Dr. Francis Hutchinson, who wrote the "Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft" in the form of a dialogue between a clergyman (the author), a Scotch advocate, and an English juror. The first edition was published in 1718, and was followed by a second in 1720, in which year he was promoted to the See of Down and Connor. As to the value of his book, and the important position it occupied in the literary history of witchcraft in England, we cannot do better than quote Dr. Notestein's laudatory criticism. He says: "Hutchinson's book must rank with Reginald Scot's _Discoverie_ as one of the great classics of English witch-literature. So nearly was his point of view that of our own day that it would be idle to rehearse his arguments. A man with warm sympathies for the oppressed, he had been led probably by the case of Jane Wenham, with whom he had talked, to make a personal investigation of all cases that came at all within the ken of those living. Whoever shall write the final story of English witchcraft will find himself still dependent upon this eighteenth-century historian. His work was the last chapter in the witch controversy. There was nothing more to say." CHAPTER IX A.D. 1807 TO PRESENT DAY MARY BUTTERS, THE CARNMONEY WITCH--BALLAD ON HER--THE HAND OF GLORY--A JOURNEY THROUGH THE AIR--A "WITCH" IN 1911--SOME MODERN ILLUSTRATIONS OF CATTLE- AND MILK-MAGIC--TRANSFERENCE OF DISEASE BY A _CAILLEACH_--BURYING THE SHEAF--J.P.'S COMMISSION--CONCLUSION Old beliefs die hard, especially when their speedy demise is a consummation devoutly to be wished; if the Island-Magee case was the last instance of judicial condemnation of witchcraft as an offence against the laws of the realm it was very far indeed from being the last occasion on which a witch and her doings formed the centre of attraction in an Irish law-court. Almost a century after the Island-Magee incident the town of Carrigfergus again became the scene of action, when the celebrated "Carnmoney witch," Mary Butters, was put forward for trial at the Spring Assizes in March 1808. It is an instance of black magic versus white (if we may dignify the affair with the title of _magic_!), though it should be borne in mind that in the persecution of witches many women were put to death on the latter charge, albeit they were really benefactors of the human race; the more so as their skill in simples and knowledge of the medicinal virtue of herbs must have added in no small degree to the resources of our present pharmacopoeia. The following account of this is taken from the _Belfast News-Letter_ for 21st August 1807, as well as from some notes by M'Skimin in Young's _Historical Notices of Old Belfast_. One Tuesday night (evidently in August 1807) an extraordinary affair took place in the house of a tailor named Alexander Montgomery, who lived hard by Carnmoney Meeting-House. The tailor had a cow which continued to give milk as usual, but of late no butter could be produced from it. An opinion was unfortunately instilled into the mind of Montgomery's wife, that whenever such a thing occurred, it was occasioned by the cow having been bewitched. Her belief in this was strengthened by the fact that every old woman in the parish was able to relate some story illustrative of what _she_ had seen or heard of in times gone by with respect to the same. At length the family were informed of a woman named Mary Butters, who resided at Carrigfergus. They went to her, and brought her to the house for the purpose of curing the cow. About ten o'clock that night war was declared against the unknown magicians. Mary Butters ordered old Montgomery and a young man named Carnaghan to go out to the cow-house, turn their waistcoats inside out, and in that dress to stand by the head of the cow until she sent for them, while the wife, the son, and an old woman named Margaret Lee remained in the house with her. Montgomery and his ally kept their lonely vigil until daybreak, when, becoming alarmed at receiving no summons, they left their post and knocked at the door, but obtained no response. They then looked through the kitchen window, and to their horror saw the four inmates stretched on the floor as dead. They immediately burst in the door, and found that the wife and son were actually dead, and the sorceress and Margaret Lee nearly so. The latter soon afterwards expired; Mary Butters was thrown out on a dung-heap, and a restorative administered to her in the shape of a few hearty kicks, which had the desired effect. The house had a sulphureous smell, and on the fire was a large pot in which were milk, needles, pins, and crooked nails. At the inquest held at Carnmoney on the 19th of August, the jurors stated that the three victims had come by their deaths from suffocation, owing to Mary Butters having made use of some noxious ingredients, after the manner of a charm, to recover a sick cow. She was brought up at the Assizes, but was discharged by proclamation. Her version of the story was, that a black man had appeared in the house armed with a huge club, with which he killed the three persons and stunned herself. Lamentable though the whole affair was, as well for the gross superstition displayed by the participants as for its tragical ending, yet it seems to have aroused no other feelings amongst the inhabitants of Carnmoney and Carrigfergus than those of risibility and derision. A clever racy ballad was made upon it by a resident in the district, which, as it is probably the only poem on the subject of witchcraft in Ireland, we print here in its entirety from the _Ulster Journal of Archæology_ for 1908, though we have not had the courage to attempt a glossary to the "braid Scots." It adds some picturesque details to the more prosaic account of the _News-Letter_. "In Carrick town a wife did dwell Who does pretend to conjure witches. Auld Barbara Goats, or Lucky Bell, Ye'll no lang to come through her clutches. A waeful trick this wife did play On simple Sawney, our poor tailor. She's mittimiss'd the other day To lie in limbo with the jailor. This simple Sawney had a cow, Was aye as sleekit as an otter; It happened for a month or two Aye when they churn'd they got nae butter. Rown-tree tied in the cow's tail, And vervain glean'd about the ditches; These freets and charms did not prevail, They could not banish the auld witches. The neighbour wives a' gathered in In number near about a dozen; Elspie Dough, and Mary Linn, An' Kate M'Cart, the tailor's cousin. Aye they churn'd and aye they swat, Their aprons loos'd, and coost their mutches; But yet nae butter they could get, They blessed the cow but curst the witches. Had Sawney summoned all his wits And sent awa for Huie Mertin, He could have gall'd the witches' guts, An' cur't the kye to Nannie Barton.[56] But he may shew the farmer's wab, An' lang wade through Carnmoney gutters; Alas! it was a sore mis-jab When he employ'd auld Mary Butters. The sorcerest open'd the scene With magic words of her invention, To make the foolish people keen Who did not know her base intention, She drew a circle round the churn, And washed the staff in south-run water,[57] And swore the witches she would burn, But she would have the tailor's butter. When sable Night her curtain spread Then she got on a flaming fire; The tailor stood at the cow's head With his turn'd waistcoat[58] in the byre. The chimney covered with a scraw An' every crevice where it smoak'd, But long before the cock did craw The people in the house were choak'd. The muckle pot hung on all night, As Mary Butters had been brewing In hopes to fetch some witch or wight, Whas entrails by her art were stewing. In this her magic a' did fail; Nae witch nor wizard was detected. Now Mary Butters lies in jail For the base part that she has acted. The tailor lost his son and wife, For Mary Butters did them smother; But as he hates a single life In four weeks' time he got another. He is a crouse auld canty chiel, An' cares nae what the witches mutter; He'll never mair employ the Deil, Nor his auld agent Mary Butters. At day the tailor left his post Though he had seen no apparition, Nae wizard grim, nae witch, nor ghost, Though still he had a stray suspicion That some auld wizard wrinkled wife Had cast her cantrips o'er poor brawney Cause she and he did live in strife, An' whar's the man can blame poor Sawney. Wae sucks for our young lasses now, For who can read their mystic matters, Or tell if their sweethearts be true, The folks a' run to Mary Butters. To tell what thief a horse did steal, In this she was a mere pretender, An' has nae art to raise the Deil Like that auld wife, the Witch of Endor. If Mary Butters be a witch Why but the people all should know it, An' if she can the muses touch I'm sure she'll soon descry the poet. Her ain familiar aff she'll sen' Or paughlet wi' a tu' commission To pour her vengeance on the man That tantalizes her condition." There also exists a shorter version of the ballad, which seems to be a rather clumsy adaptation of what we have given above; in it the witch is incorrectly termed _Butlers_. That the heroine did not evolve the procedure she had adopted out of her own fervent imagination, but that she followed a method generally recognised and practised in the country-side is shown by a case that occurred at Newtownards in January 1871.[59] A farm-hand had brought an action against his employer for wages alleged to be due to him. It transpired in the course of the evidence that on one occasion he had been set to banish witches that were troubling the cows. His method of working illustrates the Carnmoney case. All left the house except the plaintiff, who locked himself in, closed the windows, stopped all keyholes and apertures, and put sods on top of the chimneys. He then placed a large pot of sweet milk on the fire, into which he threw three rows of pins that had never been used, and three packages of needles; all were allowed to boil together for half an hour, and, as there was no outlet for the smoke, the plaintiff narrowly escaped being suffocated. It is strange to find use made in Ireland of that potent magical instrument, the Hand of Glory, and that too in the nineteenth century. On the night of the 3rd of January 1831, some Irish thieves attempted to commit a robbery on the estate of Mr. Naper, of Loughcrew, co. Meath. They entered the house, armed with a dead man's hand with a lighted candle in it, believing in the superstitious notion that if such a hand be procured, and a candle placed within its grasp, the latter cannot be seen by anyone except him by whom it is used; also that if the candle and hand be introduced into a house it will prevent those who may be asleep from awaking. The inhabitants, however, were alarmed, and the robbers fled, leaving the hand behind them.[60] No doubt the absolute failure of this gruesome dark lantern on this occasion was due to the fact that neither candle nor candlestick had been properly prepared! The orthodox recipe for its preparation and consequent effectual working may be found in full in Mr. Baring Gould's essay on Schamir in his _Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_. The following tale comes from an article in the _Dublin University Magazine_, vol. lxiv.; it has rather a Cross-Channel appearance, but may have been picked up locally in Ireland. A man named Shamus Rua (Red James) was awakened one night by a noise in the kitchen. He stole down, and found his old housekeeper, Madge, with half a dozen of her kidney, sitting by the fire drinking his whisky. When the bottle was finished one of them cried, "It's time to be off," and at the same moment she put on a peculiar red cap, and added:-- "By yarrow and rue, And my red cap, too, Hie over to England!" And seizing a twig she soared up the chimney, whither she was followed by all save Madge. As the latter was making her preparations Shamus rushed into the kitchen, snatched the cap from her, and placing himself astride of her twig uttered the magic formula. He speedily found himself high in the air over the Irish Sea, and swooping through the empyrean at a rate unequalled by the fastest aeroplane. They rapidly neared the Welsh coast, and espied a castle afar off, towards the door of which they rushed with frightful velocity; Shamus closed his eyes and awaited the shock, but found to his delight that he had slipped through the keyhole without hurt. The party made their way to the cellar, where they caroused heartily, but the wine proved too heady, and somehow Shamus was captured and dragged before the lord of the castle, who sentenced him to be hanged. On his way to the gallows an old woman in the crowd called out in Irish "Ah, Shamus _alanna_! Is it going to die you are in a strange place without your little red cap?" He craved, and obtained, permission to put it on. On reaching the place of execution he was allowed to address the spectators, and did so in the usual ready-made speech, beginning, "Good people all, a warning take by me." But when he reached the last line, "My parents reared me tenderly" instead of stopping he unexpectedly added, "By yarrow and rue," &c., with the result that he shot up through the air, to the great dismay of all beholders. Our readers will at once recall Grandpapa's Tale of the Witches' Frolic in the _Ingoldsby Legends_. Similar tales appear in Scotland, for which see Sharpe, pp. 56, 207; the same writer (p. 212) makes mention of a red cap being worn by a witch. After the opening years of the eighteenth century, when once it had ceased to attract the unwelcome attentions of judge, jury, and executioner, witchcraft degenerated rapidly. It is said by some writers that a belief in the old-fashioned witch of history may still be found in the remoter parts of rural England; the same can hardly be said of Ireland, this being due to the fact that witchcraft was never, at its best (or worst) period, very prevalent in this country. But its place is taken by an ineradicable belief in _pishogues_, or in the semi-magical powers of the bone-setter, or the stopping of bleeding wounds by an incantation, or the healing of diseases in human beings or animals by processes unknown to the medical profession, or in many other quaint tenets which lie on the borderland between folklore and witchcraft, and at best only represent the complete degeneracy and decay of the latter. Yet these practices sometimes come, for one reason or another, within the wide reach of the arm of the law, though it is perhaps unnecessary to state that they are not treated as infringements of the Elizabethan Statute. For example, some years ago a case was tried at New Pallas in co. Limerick, where a woman believed that another desired to steal her butter by _pishogues_, flew in a passion, assaulted her and threw her down, breaking her arm in the fall.[61] That appalling tragedy, the "witch-burning" case that occurred near Clonmel in 1895, is altogether misnamed. The woman was burnt, not because she was a witch, but in the belief that the real wife had been taken away and a fairy changeling substituted in her place; when the latter was subjected to the fire it would disappear, and the wife would be restored. Thus the underlying motive was kindness, but oh, how terribly mistaken! Lefanu in his _Seventy Years of Irish Life_ relates a similar incident, but one which fortunately ended humorously rather than tragically: while Crofton Croker mentions instances of wives being taken by the fairies, and restored to their husbands after the lapse of years. Even as late as the summer of 1911 the word "witch" was heard in an Irish law-court, when an unhappy poor woman was tried for killing another, an old-age pensioner, in a fit of insanity.[62] One of the witnesses deposed that he met the accused on the road on the morning of the murder. She had a statue in her hand, and repeated three times: "I have the old witch killed: I got power from the Blessed Virgin to kill her. She came to me at 3 o'clock yesterday, and told me to kill her, or I would be plagued with rats and mice." She made much the same statement to another witness, and added: "We will be all happy now. I have the devils hunted away. They went across the hill at 3 o'clock yesterday." The evidence having concluded, the accused made a statement which was reduced to writing: "On the day of the thunder and lightning and big rain there did a rat come into my house, and since then I was annoyed and upset in my mind.... A lady came to me when I was lying in bed at night, she was dressed in white, with a wreath on her head, and said that I was in danger. I thought that she was referring to the rat coming into the house.... The lady who appeared to me said, If you receive this old woman's pension-book without taking off her clothes and cleaning them, and putting out her bed and cleaning up the house, you will receive dirt for ever, and rats and mice." Imagine the above occurring in 1611 instead of 1911! The ravings of the poor demented creature would be accepted as gospel-truth; the rat would be the familiar sent by the witch to torment her, the witnesses would have many more facts to add to their evidence, the credulous people would rejoice that the country-side had been freed from such a malignant witch (though they might regret that she had been given her _congé_ so easily), while the annals of Irish witchcraft would be the richer by nearly as extraordinary a case as that of Florence Newton, and one which would have lost nothing in the telling or the printing. Shorn of their pomp and circumstance, no doubt many witch-stories would be found to be very similar in origin to the above. As is only to be expected in a country where the majority of the inhabitants are engaged in agricultural pursuits, most of the tales of strange doings are in connection with cattle. At Dungannon Quarter Sessions in June 1890, before Sir Francis Brady, one farmer sued another for breach of warranty in a cow.[63] It was suggested that the animal was "blinked," or in other words was under the influence of the "evil eye," or had a _pishogue_ put upon it. The defendant had agreed to send for the curative charm to a wise woman in the mountains. The _modus operandi_ was then proceeded with. Three locks of hair were pulled from the cow's forehead, three from her back, three from her tail, and one from under her nostrils. The directions continued as follows: The operators were to write the names of eight persons in the neighbourhood whom they might suspect of having done the harm (each name three times), and the one of these eight who was considered to be the most likely to have "blinked" the cow was to be pointed out. When this had been done there was to be a bundle of thatch pulled from the roof of the suspected person. The owner of the cow was then to cut a sod, and take a coal out of the fire on a shovel on which to burn the hair, the thatch, and the paper on which the names had been written. The sod was then to be put to the cow's mouth, and if she licked it she would live. His Honour to defendant: "And did she lick it?" Defendant: "Aye, lick it; she would have ate it." (Roars of laughter.) It then transpired that the burning of the thatch had been omitted, and this necessitated another journey to the wise woman. We may also expect to find traces of strange doings with respect to the produce of cows, viz. milk and butter. Various tales are related to the following effect. A herdsman having wounded a hare, which he has discovered sucking one of the cows under his charge, tracks it to a solitary cabin, where he finds an old woman, smeared with blood and gasping for breath, extended almost lifeless on the floor. Similar stories are to be found in England, and helped to make up the witch-element there, though it may be noted that as early as the twelfth century we are informed by Giraldus Cambrensis that certain old hags in Ireland had the power of turning themselves into hares and in that shape sucking cows. The preservation of hares for coursing, which is being taken up in parts of this country, will probably deal the death-blow to this particular superstition. With regard to the stealing of butter many tales are told, of which the following may be taken as an illustration. A priest was walking in his field early one summer's morning when he came upon an old woman gathering the dew from the long grass, and saying, "Come all to me!" The priest absent-mindedly muttered, "And half to me!" Next morning he discovered in his dairy three times as much butter as he ought to have, while his neighbours complained that they had none at all. On searching the old beldame's house three large tubs of freshly-churned butter were discovered, which, as her entire flocks and herds consisted of a solitary he-goat, left little doubt of her evil-doing![64] The witch of history is now a thing of the past. No longer does she career on a broomstick to the nocturnal Sabbath, no longer does she sell her soul to the Devil and receive from him in return many signal tokens of his favour, amongst which was generally the gift of a familiar spirit to do her behests. No longer does the judge sentence, no longer does the savage rabble howl execrations at the old witch come to her doom. The witch of history is gone, and can never be rehabilitated--would that superstition had died with her. For in Ireland, as probably in every part of the civilised world, many things are believed in and practised which seem repugnant to religion and common-sense. Scattered throughout the length and breadth of the land there are to be found persons whom the country-folk credit with the power of performing various extraordinary actions. _From what source_ they derive this power is not at all clear--probably neither they themselves nor their devotees have ever set themselves the task of unravelling that psychological problem. Such persons would be extremely insulted if they were termed wizards or witches, and indeed they only represent white witchcraft in a degenerate and colourless stage. Their entire time is not occupied with such work, nor, in the majority of cases, do they take payment for their services; they are ready to practise their art when occasion arises, but apart from such moments they pursue the ordinary avocations of rural life. The gift has come to them either as an accident of birth, or else the especial recipe or charm has descended from father to son, or has been bequeathed to them by the former owner; as a rule such is used for the benefit of their friends. An acquaintance told the writer some marvellous tales of a man who had the power of stopping bleeding, though the ailing person might be many miles off at the time; he promised to leave the full _modus operandi_ to the writer's informant, but the latter was unable to go and see him during his last moments, and so lost the charm, and as well deprived the writer of the pleasure of satisfying himself as to the efficacy of its working--for in the interests of Science he was fully prepared to cut his finger (slightly) and let the blood flow! The same informant told the writer of a most respectable woman who had the power of healing sores. Her method is as follows. She thrusts two sally-twigs in the fire until they become red-hot. She then takes one, and makes circles round the sore (without touching the flesh), all the while repeating a charm, of which the informant, who underwent the process, could not catch the words. When the twig becomes cool, she thrusts it back into the fire, takes out the other, and does as above. The whole process is repeated about ten or twelve times, but not more than two twigs are made use of. She also puts her patients on a certain diet, and this, together with the general air of mystery, no doubt helps to produce the desired results. Instances also occur in Ireland of persons employing unhallowed means for the purpose of bringing sickness and even death on some one who has fallen foul of them, or else they act on behalf of those whose willingness is circumscribed by their powerlessness. From the Aran Islands a story comes of the power of an old woman to transfer disease from the afflicted individual to another, with the result that the first recovered, while the newly-stricken person died; the passage reads more like the doings of savages in Polynesia or Central Africa than of Christians in Ireland. In 1892 a man stated that a friend of his was sick of an incurable disease, and having been given over by the doctor, sought, after a struggle with his conscience, the services of a _cailleach_ who had the power to transfer mortal sickness from the patient to some healthy object who would sicken and die as an unconscious substitute. When fully empowered by her patient, whose honest intention to profit by the unholy remedy was indispensable to its successful working, the _cailleach_ would go out into some field close by a public road, and setting herself on her knees she would pluck an herb from the ground, looking out on the road as she did so. The first passer-by her baleful glance lighted upon would take the sick man's disease and die of it in twenty-four hours, the patient mending as the victim sickened and died.[65] A most extraordinary account of the Black Art, as instanced in the custom known as "burying the sheaf" comes from co. Louth. The narrator states that details are difficult to obtain, at which we are not surprised, but from what he has published the custom appears to be not only exceedingly malignant, but horribly blasphemous. The person working the charm first goes to the chapel, and says certain words with his (or her) back to the altar; then he takes a sheaf of wheat, which he fashions like the human body, sticking pins in the joints of the stems, and (according to one account) shaping a heart of plaited straw. This sheaf he buries, in the name of the Devil, near the house of his enemy, who he believes will gradually pine away as the sheaf decays, dying when it finally decomposes. If the operator of the charm wishes his enemy to die quickly he buries the sheaf in wet ground where it will soon decay; but if on the other hand he desires his victim to linger in pain he chooses a dry spot where decomposition will be slow. Our informant states that a case in which one woman tried to kill another by this means was brought to light in the police court at Ardee a couple of years before he wrote the above account (_i.e._ before 1895).[66] Though the Statutes against witchcraft in England and Scotland were repealed (the latter very much against the will of the clergy), it is said that that passed by the Irish Parliament was not similarly treated, and consequently is, theoretically, still in force. Be that as it may, it will probably be news to our readers to learn that witchcraft is still officially recognised in Ireland as an offence against the law. In the Commission of the Peace the newly-appointed magistrate is empowered to take cognisance of, amongst other crimes, "Witchcraft, Inchantment, Sorcery, Magic Arts," a curious relic of bygone times to find in the twentieth century, though it is more than unlikely that any Bench in Ireland will ever have to adjudicate in such a case. In the foregoing pages we have endeavoured to trace the progress of witchcraft in Ireland from its first appearance to the present day, and as well have introduced some subjects which bear indirectly on the question. From the all too few examples to be obtained we have noted its gradual rise to the zenith (which is represented by the period 1661-1690), and from thence its downward progress to the strange beliefs of the day, which in some respects are the degenerate descendants of the witchcraft-conception, in others represent ideas older than civilisation. We may pay the tribute of a tearful smile to the ashes of witchcraft, and express our opinion of the present-day beliefs of the simple country-folk by a pitying smile, feeling all the time how much more enlightened we are than those who believed, or still believe, in such absurdities! But the mind of man is built in water-tight compartments. What better embodies the spirit of the young twentieth century than a powerful motor car, fully equipped with the most up-to-date appliances for increasing speed or lessening vibration; in its tuneful hum as it travels at forty-five miles an hour without an effort, we hear the triumph-song of mind over matter. The owner certainly does not believe in witchcraft or _pishogues_ (or perhaps in anything save himself!), yet he fastens on the radiator a "Teddy Bear" or some such thing by way of a mascot. Ask him why he does it--he cannot tell, except that others do the same, while all the time at the back of his mind there exists almost unconsciously the belief that such a thing will help to keep him from the troubles and annoyances that beset the path of the motorist. The connection between cause and effect is unknown to him; he cannot tell you why a Teddy Bear will keep the engine from overheating or prevent punctures--and in this respect he is for the moment on exactly the same intellectual level as, let us say, his brother-man of New Zealand, who carries a baked yam with him at night to scare away ghosts. The truth of the matter is that we all have a vein of superstition in us, which makes its appearance at some period in our lives under one form or another. A. will laugh to scorn B.'s belief in witches or ghosts, while he himself would not undertake a piece of business on a Friday for all the wealth of Croesus; while C., who laughs at both, will offer his hand to the palmist in full assurance of faith. Each of us dwells in his own particular glass house, and so cannot afford to hurl missiles at his neighbours; milk-magic or motor-mascots, pishogues or palmistry, the method of manifestation is of little account in comparison with the underlying superstition. The latter is an unfortunate trait that has been handed down to us from the infancy of the race; we have managed to get rid of such physical features as tails or third eyes, whose day of usefulness has passed; we no longer masticate our meat raw, or chip the rugged flint into the semblance of a knife, but we still acknowledge our descent by giving expression to the strange beliefs that lie in some remote lumber-room at the back of the brain. But it may be objected that belief in witches, ghosts, fairies, charms, evil-eye, &c. &c., need not be put down as unreasoning superstition, pure and simple, that in fact the trend of modern thought is to show us that there are more things in heaven and earth than were formerly dreamt of. We grant that man is a very complex machine, a microcosm peopled with possibilities of which we can understand but little. We know that mind acts on mind to an extraordinary degree, and that the imagination can affect the body to an extent not yet fully realised, and indeed has often carried men far beyond the bounds of common-sense; and so we consider that many of the elements of the above beliefs can in a general way be explained along these lines. Nevertheless that does not do away with the element of superstition and, we may add, oftentimes of deliberately-planned evil that underlies. There is no need to resurrect the old dilemma, whether God or the Devil was the principal agent concerned; we have no desire to preach to our readers, but we feel that every thinking man will be fully prepared to admit that such beliefs and practices are inimical to the development of true spiritual life, in that they tend to obscure the ever-present Deity and bring into prominence primitive feelings and emotions which are better left to fall into a state of atrophy. In addition they cripple the growth of national life, as they make the individual the fearful slave of the unknown, and consequently prevent the development of an independent spirit in him without which a nation is only such in name. The dead past utters warnings to the heirs of all the ages. It tells us already we have partially entered into a glorious heritage, which may perhaps be as nothing in respect of what will ultimately fall to the lot of the human race, and it bids us give our upward-soaring spirits freedom, and not fetter them with the gross beliefs of yore that should long ere this have been relegated to limbo. INDEX Acts of Parliament, 57, 61, 66, 67 Antrim man bewitched in England, 101 Apparitions, at Castleconnell, 94; at Loughill, 95; at Portadown, 95; in co. Tipperary, 150; to insurgents, 101 Bed-clothes pulled off, 201, 205-6; made up like a corpse, 205-6 Blackamoor executed, 60 Blair, Rev. Robert, 88 ff. Burning alive, 39, 40, 48, 50 "Burying the sheaf," 246 Butter stolen, 236, 242 Butters, Mary, 224 ff. Carnmoney, 156, 159, 160, 225, 227 Carrigfergus, 143, 174, 213, 224 Cattle bewitched, 68, 225, 240; cured by charms, 227, 232, 240 Charmed lives, 97 Charms, ingredients used in making of, 28, 29, 37, 227, 232 Chest opens mysteriously, 104 Child bewitched in co. Antrim, 195; in co. Cork, 171 Clergy incriminated, 35, 78 Colville, Rev. Alex., 82 ff. De Ledrede, Bishop, 26 ff., 47, 48 Demons, sacrifice to, 27, 29, 48 Desmond, fourth Earl of, 53; sixteenth Earl of, 69 ff., 95; rides round Lough Gur, 72; appears as a black horse, 75 Devil, the, method of raising, 81; cheated in bargains, 84, 133; incites to homicide, 90; appears as a huntsman, 135; as a raven, 173; in various shapes, 156 Dunbar, Miss Mary, 207 ff. Evil spirit appears as a boy, 202 ff. Exorcism practised in Ulster, 93 Eye-biters, 68 Fairies, 3, 237; annoy a butler, 163 ff; king of, 86 Familiar spirit, a: Huthart, 55-6; Robin, son of Art, 27, 29, 38, 40; appears to a witch, 183; appears as an old man, 108; appears as a greyhound, 118, 120 Fits, people seized with strange, 161, 179, 187 ff., 195, 208, 209, 214 ff. Greatrakes, Valentine, 118, 122, 127, 165, 167 Ghost, a, 136 ff., 144 ff., 164, 168; hand of in a law-court, 143; vanishes to sound of music, 141, 147; brings medicine, 165; appears as a goat, 198 Girdle, devil's, 39 Glover, Mrs., 179 ff. Haltridge family, 201 ff. Hand of Glory, 232 Haunted house in Dublin, 148 Healing powers, 244 Heresy, 47, 48, 50 Hutchinson, Francis, 11, 222 Images of rags, 182 Irish language spoken in Boston, 182, 186 Irish prophetess in Scotland, 54 Island Magee, 201 ff. J.P.'s Commission, clause in, 248 Judges: Sir Wm. Aston, 112, 130; Sir F. Brady, 239; John Lindon, 170; Jas. Macartney, 170, 213, 220; Anthony Upton, 213, 220 Kiss, bewitched by a, 108, 111, 117, 123, 126 Knots mysteriously tied, 208, 215, 216 Kyteler, Dame Alice, 25 ff.; her husbands, 26; her confederates, 35 Literature, absence of, in Ireland, 10, 11 Longdon, Mary, 107 ff. Lord's Prayer, used as a test, 115, 125, 184; said by supposed witches, 220 Mather, Rev. Cotton, 178 ff.; Rev. Increase, 129, 177 Midwife bewitches people, 160 Money turns to leaves, 75 Newton, Florence, 105 ff. Nobleman accused of sorcery, 57 Orrery, Lord, 163 Over-looking, 117, 120 Petronilla of Meath, 18, 35, 38, 39 Pillory, the, 64, 221 Pins stuck in a girl's arm, 110; in a straw body, 247 Pishogues, 236, 240 Pope John XXII, 44 Portents at Limerick, 100; on entry of James II, 194 Presbyterian clergyman bewitched, 156 Prophecies of Mr. Peden, 174 Quakers, the, 155, 172 Red cap worn, 233 Red pigs, their sale forbidden, 67 Relic cures spells, 80 Riding on a staff, 39, 234 Scot, Michael, 52 Scotch girl delated, 199 Scotland, 19, 54, 81, 85, 90, 147 Sorcery and witchcraft, difference, 21 Sorrel-leaf causes witchcraft, 195 Stones thrown, 109, 157, 158, 201, 204 Storm attributed to witches, 99 Strange knowledge of deaf and dumb man, 87 Stroking of images, 182; of a stone, 186 Swimming a witch suggested, 122; the process, 107 Tate, Rev. Dr., 98 Taverner, Francis, 136 ff. Taylor, Bishop Jeremy, 140, 144 Torture, not judicially used, 18; rough-and-ready application of, 38; employed on Continent, 20 Transference of disease, 245 Treasure-seeking at Cashel and Mellifont, 78; made penal, 64 Ulster colonists, their influence, 14 Usher, Archbishop, 93, 102 Vomiting of strange substances, 80, 109, 113, 195, 218 Wafer with devil's name, 39 Williams, Rev. Daniel, 148 Witch examined, 59; curious tests of guilt of, 118, 119, 121; tries to disembowel a boy, 185; rescued by the Devil, 148; murdered by a mob, 198; supposed, murdered by a lunatic, 237 Witch-burning (so called) near Clonmel, 237 Witchcraft still a legal offence, 248 Witches executed, 60, 68, 69, 148, 186, 196; placed in pillory, 221; appear as cats, 156; suck cows under form of hares, 241 Youghal, suspected witches at, 117, 122 Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. at Paul's Work, Edinburgh FOOTNOTES: [1] In his _History of Witchcraft in England_. [2] Notestein, _op. cit._ [3] Français, _L'église et la Sorcellerie_. [4] Français, _op. cit._ [5] Elsewhere given as Basilia. [6] Magical girdles were used for various purposes. Bosc in his _Glossaire_ will have them to be the origin of the magnetic belts, &c. that are so freely advertised at the present day. [7] Français, _op. cit._ [8] Carrigan, _History of the Diocese of Ossory_, i. p. 48. [9] Stokes, _Ireland and the Anglo-Norman Church_, p. 374. [10] Theiner, _Vet. Mon._, p. 269. [11] Westropp, _Wars of Turlough_ (Proc. R.I.A.), p. 161; Seymour, _Pre-Ref. Archbishops of Cashel_, 47. [12] _Dict. Nat. Biog._, Seymour, _op. cit._, p. 18. [13] O'Daly, _History of the Geraldines_. [14] Sharpe, _History of Witchcraft in Scotland_, p. 30. [15] Ed. H. F. Berry, D.Litt. [16] Carrigan, _op. cit._, iii. p. 18. [17] Quoted in _Journal of Royal Society of Antiquaries_, 3rd series, vol. i. Français mentions a Swiss sorcerer, somewhat of a wag, who used to play the same trick on people. [18] _Ulster Journal of Archæology_, vol. iv. (for 1858). [19] _All the Year Round_ (for April 1870). [20] Lenihan, _History of Limerick_, p. 147. [21] Enrolment of Pleas, 6 James I, memb. 2 (Queen's Bench). [22] Scott, _Demonology and Witchcraft_, Letter V. [23] Ed. C. K. Sharpe (Edinburgh, 1818). [24] Witherow, _Memorials of Presbyterianism in Ireland_. [25] Quot. in Law's _Memorialls_. [26] Witherow, _op. cit._, pp. 15-16. [27] Lenihan, _History of Limerick_, p. 147. [28] Hickson, _Ireland in the Seventeenth Century_, vol. i.; Fitzpatrick, _Bloody Bridge_, p. 125; Temple's _History of the Rebellion_. [29] Baxter, _Certainty of the World of Spirits_ (London, 1691); Clark, _A Mirrour or Looking-Glass for Saints and Sinners_ (London, 1657-71). [30] Fitzpatrick, _op. cit._, p. 127. [31] Hist. MSS. Comm. Report 13 (Duke of Portland MSS.). [32] No. 25 in _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ (London, 1726). [33] _Dict. Nat. Biog._ [34] _Cork Hist. and Arch. Journal_, vol. x. (2nd series). [35] _Ibid._, vol. vii. (2nd series). [36] Furnished to the writer by T. J. Westropp, Esq., M.A. [37] Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, Rel. 26. [38] _Ulster Journal of Archæology_, vol. iii. (for 1855). [39] Glanvill, _op. cit._, Rel. 27. [40] Law's _Memorialls_. [41] Baxter, _Certainty of the World of Spirits_. [42] William Turner, _Compleat History of Most Remarkable Providences_ (London, 1697). [43] Seymour, _Succession of Clergy in Cashel and Emly_. [44] O'Donoghue, _Brendaniana_, p. 301. See Joyce, _Wonders of Ireland_, p. 30, for an apparition of a ship in the air in Celtic times. See also Westropp, _Brasil_ (Proc. R.I.A.); that writer actually sketched an illusionary island in 1872. [45] _Memorialls._ [46] Glanvill, _op. cit._, Rel. 18; Baxter, _op. cit._ [47] _Op. cit._; W.P., _History of Witches and Wizards_ (London, 1700?). [48] John Lindon (or Lyndon) became junior puisne Judge of the Chief Place in 1682, was knighted in 1692, and died in 1697 (_Cork Hist. and Arch. Journal_, vol. vii., 2nd series). [49] Egmont MSS. (Hist. MSS. Comm.), ii. 181. [50] "An experiment was made, whether she could recite the Lord's Prayer: and it was found that though clause after clause was most carefully repeated unto her, yet when she said it after them that prompted her, she could not possibly avoid making nonsense of it, with some ridiculous depravations. This experiment I had the curiosity to see made upon two more, and it had the same effect." [51] _The Devil in Britain and America_, chap. xxiv. [52] C. K. Sharpe, _op. cit._ [53] A man in the Orkneys was ruined by nine knots tied in a blue thread (Dalyell's _Darker Superstitions of Scotland_). [54] The Rev. Dr. Tisdall, who has given such a full account of the trial, was Vicar of Belfast. For his attitude towards the Presbyterians, see Witherow's _Memorials of Presbyterianism in Ireland_, pp. 118, 159. Yet his narrative of the trial is not biassed, for all his statements can be borne out by other evidence. [55] James Macartney became second puisne Justice of the King's Bench in 1701, puisne Justice of Common Pleas (vice A. Upton) in 1714, and retired in 1726. Anthony Upton became puisne Justice of Common Pleas, was succeeded as above, and committed suicide in 1718. Both were natives of co. Antrim. [56] In the shorter version of the poem this line runs-- "He cured the kye for Nanny Barton," which makes better sense. Huie Mertin was evidently a rival of Mary Butters. [57] South-running water possessed great healing qualities. See Dalyell, _Darker Superstitions of Scotland_, and C. K. Sharpe, _op. cit._, p. 94. [58] When a child the writer often heard that if a man were led astray at night by Jacky-the-Lantern (or John Barleycorn, or any other potent sprite!), the best way to get home safely was to turn one's coat inside out and wear it in that condition. [59] _Notes and Queries_, 4th series, vol. vii. [60] Henderson, _Folklore of Northern Counties of England_, (Folklore Society). [61] _Journal of Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland_, xxii. (consec. ser.), p. 291. [62] _Irish Times_ for 14th June; _Independent_ for 1st July. [63] _Journal of Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland_, xxi. (consec. ser.), pp. 406-7. [64] _Folklore._ [65] _Journal of Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland_, xxv. (consec. ser.), p. 84. [66] _Folklore_, vi. 302. * * * * * * Transcriber's note: Footnote 40 appears on page 156 of the text, but there is no corresponding marker on the page. 
7082	----	generously made available by the Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr. [Transcriber's Note: Footnotes have been numbered sequentially and moved to the end of the text.] LIVES OF THE NECROMANCERS: OR AN ACCOUNT OF THE MOST EMINENT PERSONS IN SUCCESSIVE AGES, WHO HAVE CLAIMED FOR THEMSELVES, OR TO WHOM HAS BEEN IMPUTED BY OTHERS, THE EXERCISE OF MAGICAL POWER. BY WILLIAM GODWIN. LONDON Frederick J Mason, 444, West Strand 1834 PREFACE. The main purpose of this book is to exhibit a fair delineation of the credulity of the human mind. Such an exhibition cannot fail to be productive of the most salutary lessons. One view of the subject will teach us a useful pride in the abundance of our faculties. Without pride man is in reality of little value. It is pride that stimulates us to all our great undertakings. Without pride, and the secret persuasion of extraordinary talents, what man would take up the pen with a view to produce an important work, whether of imagination and poetry, or of profound science, or of acute and subtle reasoning and intellectual anatomy? It is pride in this sense that makes the great general and the consummate legislator, that animates us to tasks the most laborious, and causes us to shrink from no difficulty, and to be confounded and overwhelmed with no obstacle that can be interposed in our path. Nothing can be more striking than the contrast between man and the inferior animals. The latter live only for the day, and see for the most part only what is immediately before them. But man lives in the past and the future. He reasons upon and improves by the past; he records the acts of a long series of generations: and he looks into future time, lays down plans which he shall be months and years in bringing to maturity, and contrives machines and delineates systems of education and government, which may gradually add to the accommodations of all, and raise the species generally into a nobler and more honourable character than our ancestors were capable of sustaining. Man looks through nature, and is able to reduce its parts into a great whole. He classes the beings which are found in it, both animate and inanimate, delineates and describes them, investigates their properties, and records their capacities, their good and evil qualities, their dangers and their uses. Nor does he only see all that is; but he also images all that is not. He takes to pieces the substances that are, and combines their parts into new arrangements. He peoples all the elements from the world of his imagination. It is here that he is most extraordinary and wonderful. The record of what actually is, and has happened in the series of human events, is perhaps the smallest part of human history. If we would know man in all his subtleties, we must deviate into the world of miracles and sorcery. To know the things that are not, and cannot be, but have been imagined and believed, is the most curious chapter in the annals of man. To observe the actual results of these imaginary phenomena, and the crimes and cruelties they have caused us to commit, is one of the most instructive studies in which we can possibly be engaged. It is here that man is most astonishing, and that we contemplate with most admiration the discursive and unbounded nature of his faculties. But, if a recollection of the examples of the credulity of the human mind may in one view supply nourishment to our pride, it still more obviously tends to teach us sobriety and humiliation. Man in his genuine and direct sphere is the disciple of reason; it is by this faculty that he draws inferences, exerts his prudence, and displays the ingenuity of machinery, and the subtlety of system both in natural and moral philosophy. Yet what so irrational as man? Not contented with making use of the powers we possess, for the purpose of conducing to our accommodation and well being, we with a daring spirit inquire into the invisible causes of what we see, and people all nature with Gods "of every shape and size" and angels, with principalities and powers, with beneficent beings who "take charge concerning us lest at any time we dash our foot against a stone," and with devils who are perpetually on the watch to perplex us and do us injury. And, having familiarised our minds with the conceptions of these beings, we immediately aspire to hold communion with them. We represent to ourselves God, as "walking in the garden with us in the cool of the day," and teach ourselves "not to forget to entertain strangers, lest by so doing we should repel angels unawares." No sooner are we, even in a slight degree, acquainted with the laws of nature, than we frame to ourselves the idea, by the aid of some invisible ally, of suspending their operation, of calling out meteors in the sky, of commanding storms and tempests, of arresting the motion of the heavenly bodies, of producing miraculous cures upon the bodies of our fellow-men, or afflicting them with disease and death, of calling up the deceased from the silence of the grave, and compelling them to disclose "the secrets of the world unknown." But, what is most deplorable, we are not contented to endeavour to secure the aid of God and good angels, but we also aspire to enter into alliance with devils, and beings destined for their rebellion to suffer eternally the pains of hell. As they are supposed to be of a character perverted and depraved, we of course apply to them principally for purposes of wantonness, or of malice and revenge. And, in the instances which have occurred only a few centuries back, the most common idea has been of a compact entered into by an unprincipled and impious human being with the sworn enemy of God and man, in the result of which the devil engages to serve the capricious will and perform the behests of his blasphemous votary for a certain number of years, while the deluded wretch in return engages to renounce his God and Saviour, and surrender himself body and soul to the pains of hell from the end of that term to all eternity. No sooner do we imagine human beings invested with these wonderful powers, and conceive them as called into action for the most malignant purposes, than we become the passive and terrified slaves of the creatures of our own imaginations, and fear to be assailed at every moment by beings to whose power we can set no limit, and whose modes of hostility no human sagacity can anticipate and provide against. But, what is still more extraordinary, the human creatures that pretend to these powers have often been found as completely the dupes of this supernatural machinery, as the most timid wretch that stands in terror at its expected operation; and no phenomenon has been more common than the confession of these allies of hell, that they have verily and indeed held commerce and formed plots and conspiracies with Satan. The consequence of this state of things has been, that criminal jurisprudence and the last severities of the law have been called forth to an amazing extent to exterminate witches and witchcraft. More especially in the sixteenth century hundreds and thousands were burned alive within the compass of a small territory; and judges, the directors of the scene, a Nicholas Remi, a De Lancre, and many others, have published copious volumes, entering into a minute detail of the system and fashion of the witchcraft of the professors, whom they sent in multitudes to expiate their depravity at the gallows and the stake. One useful lesson which we may derive from the detail of these particulars, is the folly in most cases of imputing pure and unmingled hypocrisy to man. The human mind is of so ductile a character that, like what is affirmed of charity by the apostle, it "believeth all things, and endureth all things." We are not at liberty to trifle with the sacredness of truth. While we persuade others, we begin to deceive ourselves. Human life is a drama of that sort, that, while we act our part, and endeavour to do justice to the sentiments which are put down for us, we begin to believe we are the thing we would represent. To shew however the modes in which the delusion acts upon the person through whom it operates, is not properly the scope of this book. Here and there I have suggested hints to this purpose, which the curious reader may follow to their furthest extent, and discover how with perfect good faith the artist may bring himself to swallow the grossest impossibilities. But the work I have written is not a treatise of natural magic. It rather proposes to display the immense wealth of the faculty of imagination, and to shew the extravagances of which the man may be guilty who surrenders himself to its guidance. It is fit however that the reader should bear in mind, that what is put down in this book is but a small part and scantling of the acts of sorcery and witchcraft which have existed in human society. They have been found in all ages and countries. The torrid zone and the frozen north have neither of them escaped from a fruitful harvest of this sort of offspring. In ages of ignorance they have been especially at home; and the races of men that have left no records behind them to tell almost that they existed, have been most of all rife in deeds of darkness, and those marvellous incidents which especially astonish the spectator, and throw back the infant reason of man into those shades and that obscurity from which it had so recently endeavoured to escape. I wind up for the present my literary labours with the production of this book. Nor let any reader imagine that I here put into his hands a mere work of idle recreation. It will be found pregnant with deeper uses. The wildest extravagances of human fancy, the most deplorable perversion of human faculties, and the most horrible distortions of jurisprudence, may occasionally afford us a salutary lesson. I love in the foremost place to contemplate man in all his honours and in all the exaltation of wisdom and virtue; but it will also be occasionally of service to us to look into his obliquities, and distinctly to remark how great and portentous have been his absurdities and his follies. _May_ 29, 1834. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION AMBITIOUS NATURE OF MAN HIS DESIRE TO PENETRATE INTO FUTURITY DIVINATION AUGURY CHIROMANCY PHYSIOGNOMY INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS CASTING OF LOTS ASTROLOGY ORACLES DELPHI THE DESIRE TO COMMAND AND CONTROL FUTURE EVENTS COMMERCE WITH THE INVISIBLE WORLD SORCERY AND ENCHANTMENT WITCHCRAFT COMPACTS WITH THE DEVIL IMPS TALISMANS AND AMULETS NECROMANCY ALCHEMY FAIRIES ROSICRUCIANS SYLPHS AND GNOMES, SALAMANDERS AND UNDINES EXAMPLES OF NECROMANCY AND WITCHCRAFT FROM THE BIBLE THE MAGI, OR WISE MEN OF THE EAST EGYPT STATUE OF MEMNON TEMPLE OF JUPITER AMMON: ITS ORACLES CHALDEA AND BABYLON ZOROASTER GREECE DEITIES OF GREECE DEMIGODS DAEDALUS THE ARGONAUTS MEDEA CIRCE ORPHEUS AMPHION TIRESIAS ABARIS PYTHAGORAS EPIMENIDES EMPEDOCLES ARISTEAS HERMOTIMUS THE MOTHER OF DEMARATUS, KING OF SPARTA ORACLES INVASION OF XERXES INTO GREECE DEMOCRITUS SOCRATES ROME VIRGIL POLYDORUS DIDO ROMULUS NUMA TULLUS HOSTILIUS ACCIUS NAVIUS SERVIUS TULLIUS THE SORCERESS OF VIRGIL CANIDIA ERICHTHO SERTORIUS CASTING OUT DEVILS SIMON MAGUS ELYMAS, THE SORCERER NERO VESPASIAN APOLLONIUS OF TYANA APULEIUS ALEXANDER THE PAPHLAGONIAN REVOLUTION PRODUCED IN THE HISTORY OF NECROMANCY AND WITCHCRAFT UPON THE ESTABLISHMENT OF CHRISTIANITY MAGICAL CONSULTATIONS RESPECTING THE LIFE OF THE EMPEROR HISTORY OF NECROMANCY IN THE EAST GENERAL SILENCE OF THE EAST RESPECTING INDIVIDUAL NECROMANCERS ROCAIL HAKEM, OTHERWISE MACANNA ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS PERSIAN TALES STORY OF A GOULE ARABIAN NIGHTS RESEMBLANCE OF THE TALES OF THE EAST AND OF EUROPE CAUSES OF HUMAN CREDULITY DARK AGES OF EUROPE MERLIN ST. DUNSTAN COMMUNICATION OF EUROPE AND THE SARACENS GERBERT, POPE SILVESTER II BENEDICT THE NINTH GREGORY THE SEVENTH DUFF, KING OF SCOTLAND MACBETH VIRGIL ROBERT OF LINCOLN MICHAEL SCOT THE DEAN OF BADAJOZ MIRACLE OF THE TUB OF WATER INSTITUTION OF FRIARS ALBERTUS MAGNUS ROGER BACON THOMAS AQUINAS PETER OF APONO ENGLISH LAW OF HIGH TREASON ZIITO TRANSMUTATION OF METALS ARTEPHIUS RAYMOND LULLI ARNOLD OF VILLENEUVE ENGLISH LAWS RESPECTING TRANSMUTATION REVIVAL OF LETTERS JOAN OF ARC ELEANOR COBHAM, DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER RICHARD III SANGUINARY PROCEEDINGS AGAINST WITCHCRAFT SAVONAROLA TRITHEMIUS LUTHER CORNELIUS AGRIPPA FAUSTUS SABELLICUS PARACELSUS CARDAN QUACKS, WHO IN COOL BLOOD UNDERTOOK TO OVERREACH MANKIND BENVENUTO CELLINI NOSTRADAMUS DOCTOR DEE EARL OF DERBY KING JAMES'S VOYAGE TO NORWAY JOHN FIAN KING JAMES'S DEMONOLOGY STATUTE, 1 JAMES I FORMAN AND OTHERS LATEST IDEAS OF JAMES ON THE SUBJECT LANCASHIRE WITCHES LADY DAVIES EDWARD FAIRFAX DOCTOR LAMB URBAIN GRANDIER ASTROLOGY WILLIAM LILLY MATTHEW HOPKINS CROMWEL DOROTHY MATELEY WITCHES HANGED BY SIR MATTHEW HALE WITCHCRAFT IN SWEDEN WITCHCRAFT IN NEW ENGLAND CONCLUSION LIVES OF THE NECROMANCERS The improvements that have been effected in natural philosophy have by degrees convinced the enlightened part of mankind that the material universe is every where subject to laws, fixed in their weight, measure and duration, capable of the most exact calculation, and which in no case admit of variation and exception. Whatever is not thus to be accounted for is of mind, and springs from the volition of some being, of which the material form is subjected to our senses, and the action of which is in like manner regulated by the laws of matter. Beside this, mind, as well as matter, is subject to fixed laws; and thus every phenomenon and occurrence around us is rendered a topic for the speculations of sagacity and foresight. Such is the creed which science has universally prescribed to the judicious and reflecting among us. It was otherwise in the infancy and less mature state of human knowledge. The chain of causes and consequences was yet unrecognized; and events perpetually occurred, for which no sagacity that was then in being was able to assign an original. Hence men felt themselves habitually disposed to refer many of the appearances with which they were conversant to the agency of invisible intelligences; sometimes under the influence of a benignant disposition, sometimes of malice, and sometimes perhaps from an inclination to make themselves sport of the wonder and astonishment of ignorant mortals. Omens and portents told these men of some piece of good or ill fortune speedily to befal them. The flight of birds was watched by them, as foretokening somewhat important. Thunder excited in them a feeling of supernatural terror. Eclipses with fear of change perplexed the nations. The phenomena of the heavens, regular and irregular, were anxiously remarked from the same principle. During the hours of darkness men were apt to see a supernatural being in every bush; and they could not cross a receptacle for the dead, without expecting to encounter some one of the departed uneasily wandering among graves, or commissioned to reveal somewhat momentous and deeply affecting to the survivors. Fairies danced in the moonlight glade; and something preternatural perpetually occurred to fill the living with admiration and awe. All this gradually reduced itself into a system. Mankind, particularly in the dark and ignorant ages, were divided into the strong and the weak; the strong and weak of animal frame, when corporeal strength more decidedly bore sway than in a period of greater cultivation; and the strong and weak in reference to intellect; those who were bold, audacious and enterprising in acquiring an ascendancy over their fellow-men, and those who truckled, submitted, and were acted upon, from an innate consciousness of inferiority, and a superstitious looking up to such as were of greater natural or acquired endowments than themselves. The strong in intellect were eager to avail themselves of their superiority, by means that escaped the penetration of the multitude, and had recourse to various artifices to effect their ends. Beside this, they became the dupes of their own practices. They set out at first in their conception of things from the level of the vulgar. They applied themselves diligently to the unravelling of what was unknown; wonder mingled with their contemplation; they abstracted their minds from things of ordinary occurrence, and, as we may denominate it, of real life, till at length they lost their true balance amidst the astonishment they sought to produce in their inferiors. They felt a vocation to things extraordinary; and they willingly gave scope and line without limit to that which engendered in themselves the most gratifying sensations, at the same time that it answered the purposes of their ambition. As these principles in the two parties, the more refined and the vulgar, are universal, and derive their origin from the nature of man, it has necessarily happened that this faith in extraordinary events, and superstitious fear of what is supernatural, has diffused itself through every climate of the world, in a certain stage of human intellect, and while refinement had not yet got the better of barbarism. The Celts of antiquity had their Druids, a branch of whose special profession was the exercise of magic. The Chaldeans and Egyptians had their wise men, their magicians and their sorcerers. The negroes have their foretellers of events, their amulets, and their reporters and believers of miraculous occurrences. A similar race of men was found by Columbus and the other discoverers of the New World in America; and facts of a parallel nature are attested to us in the islands of the South Seas. And, as phenomena of this sort were universal in their nature, without distinction of climate, whether torrid or frozen, and independently of the discordant manners and customs of different countries, so have they been very slow and recent in their disappearing. Queen Elizabeth sent to consult Dr. John Dee, the astrologer, respecting a lucky day for her coronation; King James the First employed much of his learned leisure upon questions of witchcraft and demonology, in which he fully believed and sir Matthew Hale in the year 1664 caused two old women to be hanged upon a charge of unlawful communion with infernal agents. The history of mankind therefore will be very imperfect, and our knowledge of the operations and eccentricities of the mind lamentably deficient, unless we take into our view what has occurred under this head. The supernatural appearances with which our ancestors conceived themselves perpetually surrounded must have had a strong tendency to cherish and keep alive the powers of the imagination, and to penetrate those who witnessed or expected such things with an extraordinary sensitiveness. As the course of events appears to us at present, there is much, though abstractedly within the compass of human sagacity to foresee, which yet the actors on the scene do not foresee: but the blindness and perplexity of short-sighted mortals must have been wonderfully increased, when ghosts and extraordinary appearances were conceived liable to cross the steps and confound the projects of men at every turn, and a malicious wizard or a powerful enchanter might involve his unfortunate victim in a chain of calamities, which no prudence could disarm, and no virtue could deliver him from. They were the slaves of an uncontrolable destiny, and must therefore have been eminently deficient in the perseverance and moral courage, which may justly be required of us in a more enlightened age. And the men (but these were few compared with the great majority of mankind), who believed themselves gifted with supernatural endowments, must have felt exempt and privileged from common rules, somewhat in the same way as the persons whom fiction has delighted to pourtray as endowed with immeasurable wealth, or with the power of rendering themselves impassive or invisible. But, whatever were their advantages or disadvantages, at any rate it is good for us to call up in review things, which are now passed away, but which once occupied so large a share of the thoughts and attention of mankind, and in a great degree tended to modify their characters and dictate their resolutions. As has already been said, numbers of those who were endowed with the highest powers of human intellect, such as, if they had lived in these times, would have aspired to eminence in the exact sciences, to the loftiest flights of imagination, or to the discovery of means by which the institutions of men in society might be rendered more beneficial and faultless, at that time wasted the midnight oil in endeavouring to trace the occult qualities and virtues of things, to render invisible spirits subject to their command, and to effect those wonders, of which they deemed themselves to have a dim conception, but which more rational views of nature have taught us to regard as beyond our power to effect. These sublime wanderings of the mind are well entitled to our labour to trace and investigate. The errors of man are worthy to be recorded, not only as beacons to warn us from the shelves where our ancestors have made shipwreck, but even as something honourable to our nature, to show how high a generous ambition could sour, though in forbidden paths, and in things too wonderful for us. Nor only is this subject inexpressibly interesting, as setting before us how the loftiest and most enterprising minds of ancient days formerly busied themselves. It is also of the highest importance to an ingenuous curiosity, inasmuch as it vitally affected the fortunes of so considerable a portion of the mass of mankind. The legislatures of remote ages bent all their severity at different periods against what they deemed the unhallowed arts of the sons and daughters of reprobation. Multitudes of human creatures have been sacrificed in different ages and countries, upon the accusation of having exercised arts of the most immoral and sacrilegious character. They were supposed to have formed a contract with a mighty and invisible spirit, the great enemy of man, and to have sold themselves, body and soul, to everlasting perdition, for the sake of gratifying, for a short term of years, their malignant passions against those who had been so unfortunate as to give them cause of offence. If there were any persons who imagined they had entered into such a contract, however erroneous was their belief, they must of necessity have been greatly depraved. And it was but natural that such as believed in this crime, must have considered it as atrocious beyond all others, and have regarded those who were supposed guilty of it with inexpressible abhorrence. There are many instances on record, where the persons accused of it, either from the depth of their delusion, or, which is more probable, harassed by persecution, by the hatred of their fellow-creatures directed against them, or by torture, actually confessed themselves guilty. These instances are too numerous, not to constitute an important chapter in the legislation of past ages. And, now that the illusion has in a manner passed away from the face of the earth, we are on that account the better qualified to investigate this error in its causes and consequences, and to look back on the tempest and hurricane from which we have escaped, with chastened feelings, and a sounder estimate of its nature, its reign, and its effects. AMBITIOUS NATURE OF MAN Man is a creature of boundless ambition. It is probably our natural wants that first awaken us from that lethargy and indifference in which man may be supposed to be plunged previously to the impulse of any motive, or the accession of any uneasiness. One of our earliest wants may be conceived to be hunger, or the desire of food. From this simple beginning the history of man in all its complex varieties may be regarded as proceeding. Man in a state of society, more especially where there is an inequality of condition and rank, is very often the creature of leisure. He finds in himself, either from internal or external impulse, a certain activity. He finds himself at one time engaged in the accomplishment of his obvious and immediate desires, and at another in a state in which these desires have for the present been fulfilled, and he has no present occasion to repeat those exertions which led to their fulfilment. This is the period of contemplation. This is the state which most eminently distinguishes us from the brutes. Here it is that the history of man, in its exclusive sense, may be considered as taking its beginning. Here it is that he specially recognises in himself the sense of power. Power in its simplest acceptation, may be exerted in either of two ways, either in his procuring for himself an ample field for more refined accommodations, or in the exercise of compulsion and authority over other living creatures. In the pursuit of either of these, and especially the first, he is led to the attainment of skill and superior adroitness in the use of his faculties. No sooner has man reached to this degree of improvement, than now, if not indeed earlier, he is induced to remark the extreme limitedness of his faculties in respect to the future; and he is led, first earnestly to desire a clearer insight into the future, and next a power of commanding those external causes upon which the events of the future depend. The first of these desires is the parent of divination, augury, chiromancy, astrology, and the consultation of oracles; and the second has been the prolific source of enchantment, witchcraft, sorcery, magic, necromancy, and alchemy, in its two branches, the unlimited prolongation of human life, and the art of converting less precious metals into gold. HIS DESIRE TO PENETRATE INTO FUTURITY. Nothing can suggest to us a more striking and stupendous idea of the faculties of the human mind, than the consideration of the various arts by which men have endeavoured to penetrate into the future, and to command the events of the future, in ways that in sobriety and truth are entirely out of our competence. We spurn impatiently against the narrow limits which the constitution of things has fixed to our aspirings, and endeavour by a multiplicity of ways to accomplish that which it is totally beyond the power of man to effect. DIVINATION. Divination has been principally employed in inspecting the entrails of beasts offered for sacrifice, and from their appearance drawing omens of the good or ill success of the enterprises in which we are about to engage. What the divination by the cup was which Joseph practised, or pretended to practise, we do not perhaps exactly understand. We all of us know somewhat of the predictions, to this day resorted to by maid-servants and others, from the appearance of the sediment to be found at the bottom of a tea-cup. Predictions of a similar sort are formed from the unpremeditated way in which we get out of bed in a morning, or put on our garments, from the persons or things we shall encounter when we first leave our chamber or go forth in the air, or any of the indifferent accidents of life. AUGURY. Augury has its foundation in observing the flight of birds, the sounds they utter, their motions whether sluggish or animated, and the avidity or otherwise with which they appear to take their food. The college of augurs was one of the most solemn institutions of ancient Rome. CHIROMANCY. Chiromancy, or the art of predicting the various fortunes of the individual, from an inspection of the minuter variations of the lines to be found in the palm of the human hand, has been used perhaps at one time or other in all the nations of the world. PHYSIOGNOMY. Physiognomy is not so properly a prediction of future events, as an attempt to explain the present and inherent qualities of a man. By unfolding his propensities however, it virtually gave the world to understand the sort of proceedings in which he was most likely to engage. The story of Socrates and the physiognomist is sufficiently known. The physiognomist having inspected the countenance of the philosopher, pronounced that he was given to intemperance, sensuality, and violent bursts of passion, all of which was so contrary to his character as universally known, that his disciples derided the physiognomist as a vain-glorious pretender. Socrates however presently put them to silence, by declaring that he had had an original propensity to all the vices imputed to him, and had only conquered the propensity by dint of a severe and unremitted self-discipline. INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS. Oneirocriticism, or the art of interpreting dreams, seems of all the modes of prediction the most inseparable from the nature of man. A considerable portion of every twenty-four hours of our lives is spent in sleep; and in sleep nothing is at least more usual, than for the mind to be occupied in a thousand imaginary scenes, which for the time are as realities, and often excite the passions of the mind of the sleeper in no ordinary degree. Many of them are wild and rambling; but many also have a portentous sobriety. Many seem to have a strict connection with the incidents of our actual lives; and some appear as if they came for the very purpose to warn us of danger, or prepare us for coming events. It is therefore no wonder that these occasionally fill our waking thoughts with a deep interest, and impress upon us an anxiety of which we feel it difficult to rid ourselves. Accordingly, in ages when men were more prone to superstition, than at present, they sometimes constituted a subject of earnest anxiety and inquisitiveness; and we find among the earliest exercises of the art of prediction, the interpretation of dreams to have occupied a principal place, and to have been as it were reduced into a science. CASTING OF LOTS. The casting of lots seems scarcely to come within the enumeration here given. It was intended as an appeal to heaven upon a question involved in uncertainty, with the idea that the supreme Ruler of the skies, thus appealed to, would from his omniscience supply the defect of human knowledge. Two examples, among others sufficiently remarkable, occur in the Bible. One of Achan, who secreted part of the spoil taken in Jericho, which was consecrated to the service of God, and who, being taken by lot, confessed, and was stoned to death. [1] The other of Jonah, upon whom the lot fell in a mighty tempest, the crew of the ship enquiring by this means what was the cause of the calamity that had overtaken them, and Jonah being in consequence cast into the sea. ASTROLOGY. Astrology was one of the modes most anciently and universally resorted to for discovering the fortunes of men and nations. Astronomy and astrology went hand in hand, particularly among the people of the East. The idea of fate was most especially bound up in this branch of prophecy. If the fortune of a man was intimately connected with the position of the heavenly bodies, it became evident that little was left to the province of his free will. The stars overruled him in all his determinations; and it was in vain for him to resist them. There was something flattering to the human imagination in conceiving that the planets and the orbs on high were concerned in the conduct we should pursue, and the events that should befal us. Man resigned himself to his fate with a solemn, yet a lofty feeling, that the remotest portions of the universe were concerned in the catastrophe that awaited him. Beside which, there was something peculiarly seducing in the apparently profound investigation of the professors of astrology. They busied themselves with the actual position of the heavenly bodies, their conjunctions and oppositions; and of consequence there was a great apparatus of diagrams and calculation to which they were prompted to apply themselves, and which addressed itself to the eyes and imaginations of those who consulted them. ORACLES. But that which seems to have had the greatest vogue in times of antiquity, relative to the prediction of future events, is what is recorded of oracles. Finding the insatiable curiosity of mankind as to what was to happen hereafter, and the general desire they felt to be guided in their conduct by an anticipation of things to come, the priests pretty generally took advantage of this passion, to increase their emoluments and offerings, and the more effectually to inspire the rest of their species with veneration and a willing submission to their authority. The oracle was delivered in a temple, or some sacred place; and in this particular we plainly discover that mixture of nature and art, of genuine enthusiasm and contriving craft, which is so frequently exemplified in the character of man. DELPHI. The oracle of Apollo at Delphi is the most remarkable; and respecting it we are furnished with the greatest body of particulars. The locality of this oracle is said to have been occasioned by the following circumstance. A goat-herd fed his flocks on the acclivity of mount Parnassus. As the animals wandered here and there in pursuit of food, they happened to approach a deep and long chasm which appeared in the rock. From this chasm a vapour issued; and the goats had no sooner inhaled a portion of the vapour, than they began to play and frisk about with singular agility. The goat-herd, observing this, and curious to discover the cause, held his head over the chasm; when, in a short time, the fumes having ascended to his brain, he threw himself into a variety of strange attitudes, and uttered words, which probably he did not understand himself, but which were supposed to convey a prophetic meaning. This phenomenon was taken advantage of, and a temple to Apollo was erected on the spot. The credulous many believed that here was obviously a centre and focus of divine inspiration. On this mountain Apollo was said to have slain the serpent Python. The apartment of the oracle was immediately over the chasm from which the vapour issued. A priestess delivered the responses, who was called Pythia, probably in commemoration of the exploit which had been performed by Apollo. She sat upon a tripod, or three-legged stool, perforated with holes, over the seat of the vapours. After a time, her figure enlarged itself, her hair stood on end, her complexion and features became altered, her heart panted and her bosom swelled, and her voice grew more than human. In this condition she uttered a number of wild and incoherent phrases, which were supposed to be dictated by the God. The questions which were offered by those who came to consult the oracle were then proposed to her, and her answers taken down by the priest, whose office was to arrange and methodize them, and put them into hexameter verse, after which they were delivered to the votaries. The priestess could only be consulted on one day in every month. Great ingenuity and contrivance were no doubt required to uphold the credit of the oracle; and no less boldness and self-collectedness on the part of those by whom the machinery was conducted. Like the conjurors of modern times, they took care to be extensively informed as to all such matters respecting which the oracle was likely to be consulted. They listened probably to the Pythia with a superstitious reverence for the incoherent sentences she uttered. She, like them, spent her life in being trained for the office to which she was devoted. All that was rambling and inapplicable in her wild declamation they consigned to oblivion. Whatever seemed to bear on the question proposed they preserved. The persons by whom the responses were digested into hexameter verse, had of course a commission attended with great discretionary power. They, as Horace remarks on another occasion, [2] divided what it was judicious to say, from what it was prudent to omit, dwelt upon one thing, and slurred over and accommodated another, just as would best suit the purpose they had in hand. Beside this, for the most part they clothed the apparent meaning of the oracle in obscurity, and often devised sentences of ambiguous interpretation, that might suit with opposite issues, whichever might happen to fall out. This was perfectly consistent with a high degree of enthusiasm on the part of the priest. However confident he might be in some things, he could not but of necessity feel that his prognostics were surrounded with uncertainty. Whatever decisions of the oracle were frustrated by the event, and we know that there were many of this sort, were speedily forgotten; while those which succeeded, were conveyed from shore to shore, and repeated by every echo. Nor is it surprising that the transmitters of the sentences of the God should in time arrive at an extraordinary degree of sagacity and skill. The oracles accordingly reached to so high a degree of reputation, that, as Cicero observes, no expedition for a long time was undertaken, no colony sent out, and often no affair of any distinguished family or individual entered on, without the previously obtaining their judgment and sanction. Their authority in a word was so high, that the first fathers of the Christian church could no otherwise account for a reputation thus universally received, than by supposing that the devils were permitted by God Almighty to inform the oracles with a more than human prescience, that all the world might be concluded in idolatry and unbelief, [3] and the necessity of a Saviour be made more apparent. The gullibility of man is one of the most prominent features of our nature. Various periods and times, when whole nations have as it were with one consent run into the most incredible and the grossest absurdities, perpetually offer themselves in the page of history; and in the records of remote antiquity it plainly appears that such delusions continued through successive centuries. THE DESIRE TO COMMAND AND CONTROL FUTURE EVENTS. Next to the consideration of those measures by which men have sought to dive into the secrets of future time, the question presents itself of those more daring undertakings, the object of which has been by some supernatural power to control the future, and place it in subjection to the will of the unlicensed adventurer. Men have always, especially in ages of ignorance, and when they most felt their individual weakness, figured to themselves an invisible strength greater than their own; and, in proportion to their impatience, and the fervour of their desires, have sought to enter into a league with those beings whose mightier force might supply that in which their weakness failed. COMMERCE WITH THE INVISIBLE WORLD. It is an essential feature of different ages and countries to vary exceedingly in the good or ill construction, the fame or dishonour, which shall attend upon the same conduct or mode of behaviour. In Egypt and throughout the East, especially in the early periods of history, the supposed commerce with invisible powers was openly professed, which, under other circumstances, and during the reign of different prejudices, was afterwards carefully concealed, and barbarously hunted out of the pale of allowed and authorised practice. The Magi of old, who claimed a power of producing miraculous appearances, and boasted a familiar intercourse with the world of spirits, were regarded by their countrymen with peculiar reverence, and considered as the first and chiefest men in the state. For this mitigated view of such dark and mysterious proceedings the ancients were in a great degree indebted to their polytheism. The Romans are computed to have acknowledged thirty thousand divinities, to all of whom was rendered a legitimate homage; and other countries in a similar proportion. SORCERY AND ENCHANTMENT. In Asia, however, the Gods were divided into two parties, under Oromasdes, the principle of good, and Arimanius, the principle of evil. These powers were in perpetual contention with each other, sometimes the one, and sometimes the other gaining the superiority. Arimanius and his legions were therefore scarcely considered as entitled to the homage of mankind. Those who were actuated by benevolence, and who desired to draw down blessings upon their fellow-creatures, addressed themselves to the principle of good; while such unhappy beings, with whom spite and ill-will had the predominance, may be supposed often to have invoked in preference the principle of evil. Hence seems to have originated the idea of sorcery, or an appeal by incantations and wicked arts to the demons who delighted in mischief. These beings rejoiced in the opportunity of inflicting calamity and misery on mankind. But by what we read of them we might be induced to suppose that they were in some way restrained from gratifying their malignant intentions, and waited in eager hope, till some mortal reprobate should call out their dormant activity, and demand their aid. Various enchantments were therefore employed by those unhappy mortals whose special desire was to bring down calamity and plagues upon the individuals or tribes of men against whom their animosity was directed. Unlawful and detested words and mysteries were called into action to conjure up demons who should yield their powerful and tremendous assistance. Songs of a wild and maniacal character were chaunted. Noisome scents and the burning of all unhallowed and odious things were resorted to. In later times books and formulas of a terrific character were commonly employed, upon the reading or recital of which the prodigies resorted to began to display themselves. The heavens were darkened; the thunder rolled; and fierce and blinding lightnings flashed from one corner of the heavens to the other. The earth quaked and rocked from side to side. All monstrous and deformed things shewed themselves, "Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire," enough to cause the stoutest heart to quail. Lastly, devils, whose name was legion, and to whose forms and distorted and menacing countenances superstition had annexed the most frightful ideas, crowded in countless multitudes upon the spectator, whose breath was flame, whose dances were full of terror, and whose strength infinitely exceeded every thing human. Such were the appalling conceptions which ages of bigotry and ignorance annexed to the notion of sorcery, and with these they scared the unhappy beings over whom this notion had usurped an ascendancy into lunacy, and prepared them for the perpetrating flagitious and unheard-of deeds. The result of these horrible incantations was not less tremendous, than the preparations might have led us to expect. The demons possessed all the powers of the air, and produced tempests and shipwrecks at their pleasure. "Castles toppled on their warder's heads, and palaces and pyramids sloped their summits to their foundations;" forests and mountains were torn from their roots, and cast into the sea. They inflamed the passions of men, and caused them to commit the most unheard-of excesses. They laid their ban on those who enjoyed the most prosperous health, condemned them to peak and pine, wasted them into a melancholy atrophy, and finally consigned them to a premature grave. They breathed a new and unblest life into beings in whom existence had long been extinct, and by their hateful and resistless power caused the sepulchres to give up their dead. WITCHCRAFT. Next to sorcery we may recollect the case of witchcraft, which occurs oftener, particularly in modern times, than any other alleged mode of changing by supernatural means the future course of events. The sorcerer, as we shall see hereafter, was frequently a man of learning and intellectual abilities, sometimes of comparative opulence and respectable situation in society. But the witch or wizard was almost uniformly old, decrepid, and nearly or altogether in a state of penury. The functions however of the witch and the sorcerer were in a great degree the same. The earliest account of a witch, attended with any degree of detail, is that of the witch of Endor in the Bible, who among other things, professed the power of calling up the dead upon occasion from the peace of the sepulchre. Witches also claimed the faculty of raising storms, and in various ways disturbing the course of nature. They appear in most cases to have been brought into action by the impulse of private malice. They occasioned mortality of greater or less extent in man and beast. They blighted the opening prospect of a plentiful harvest. They covered the heavens with clouds, and sent abroad withering and malignant blasts. They undermined the health of those who were so unfortunate as to incur their animosity, and caused them to waste away gradually with incurable disease. They were notorious two or three centuries ago for the power of the "evil eye." The vulgar, both great and small, dreaded their displeasure, and sought, by small gifts, and fair speeches, but insincere, and the offspring of terror only, to avert the pernicious consequences of their malice. They were famed for fabricating small images of wax, to represent the object of their persecution; and, as these by gradual and often studiously protracted degrees wasted before the fire, so the unfortunate butts of their resentment perished with a lingering, but inevitable death. COMPACTS WITH THE DEVIL. The power of these witches, as we find in their earliest records, originated in their intercourse with "familiar spirits," invisible beings who must be supposed to be enlisted in the armies of the prince of darkness. We do not read in these ancient memorials of any league of mutual benefit entered into between the merely human party, and his or her supernatural assistant. But modern times have amply supplied this defect. The witch or sorcerer could not secure the assistance of the demon but by a sure and faithful compact, by which the human party obtained the industrious and vigilant service of his familiar for a certain term of years, only on condition that, when the term was expired, the demon of undoubted right was to obtain possession of the indentured party, and to convey him irremissibly and for ever to the regions of the damned. The contract was drawn out in authentic form, signed by the sorcerer, and attested with his blood, and was then carried away by the demon, to be produced again at the appointed time. IMPS. These familiar spirits often assumed the form of animals, and a black dog or cat was considered as a figure in which the attendant devil was secretly hidden. These subordinate devils were called Imps. Impure and carnal ideas were mingled with these theories. The witches were said to have preternatural teats from which their familiars sucked their blood. The devil also engaged in sexual intercourse with the witch or wizard, being denominated _incubus_, if his favourite were a woman, and _succubus_, if a man. In short, every frightful and loathsome idea was carefully heaped up together, to render the unfortunate beings to whom the crime of witchcraft was imputed the horror and execration of their species. TALISMANS AND AMULETS. As according to the doctrine of witchcraft, there were certain compounds, and matters prepared by rules of art, that proved baleful and deadly to the persons against whom their activity was directed, so there were also preservatives, talismans, amulets and charms, for the most [Errata: _read_ for the most part] to be worn about the person, which rendered him superior to injury, not only from the operations of witchcraft, but in some cases from the sword or any other mortal weapon. As the poet says, he that had this, Might trace huge forests and unhallowed heaths,-- Yea there, where very desolation dwells, By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades, nay, in the midst of every tremendous assailant, "might pass on with unblenched majesty," uninjured and invulnerable. NECROMANCY. Last of all we may speak of necromancy, which has something in it that so strongly takes hold of the imagination, that, though it is one only of the various modes which have been enumerated for the exorcise of magical power, we have selected it to give a title to the present volume. There is something sacred to common apprehension in the repose of the dead. They seem placed beyond our power to disturb. "There is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave." After life's fitful fever they sleep well: Nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch them further. Their remains moulder in the earth. Neither form nor feature is long continued to them. We shrink from their touch, and their sight. To violate the sepulchre therefore for the purpose of unholy spells and operations, as we read of in the annals of witchcraft, cannot fail to be exceedingly shocking. To call up the spirits of the departed, after they have fulfilled the task of life, and are consigned to their final sleep, is sacrilegious. Well may they exclaim, like the ghost of Samuel in the sacred story, "Why hast thou disquieted me?" There is a further circumstance in the case, which causes us additionally to revolt from the very idea of necromancy, strictly so called. Man is a mortal, or an immortal being. His frame either wholly "returns to the earth as it was, or his spirit," the thinking principle within him, "to God who gave it." The latter is the prevailing sentiment of mankind in modern times. Man is placed upon earth in a state of probation, to be dealt with hereafter according to the deeds done in the flesh. "Some shall go away into everlasting punishment; and others into life eternal." In this case there is something blasphemous in the idea of intermedding with the state of the dead. We must leave them in the hands of God. Even on the idea of an interval, the "sleep of the soul" from death to the general resurrection, which is the creed of no contemptible sect of Christians, it is surely a terrific notion that we should disturb the pause, which upon that hypothesis, the laws of nature have assigned to the departed soul, and come to awake, or to "torment him before the time." ALCHEMY. To make our catalogue of supernatural doings, and the lawless imaginations of man, the more complete, it may be further necessary to refer to the craft, so eagerly cultivated in successive ages of the world of converting the inferior metals into gold, to which was usually joined the _elixir vitae_, or universal medicine, having the quality of renewing the youth of man, and causing him to live for ever. The first authentic record on this subject is an edict of Dioclesian about three hundred years after Christ, ordering a diligent search to be made in Egypt for all the ancient books which treated of the art of making gold and silver, that they might without distinction be consigned to the flames. This edict however necessarily presumes a certain antiquity to the pursuit; and fabulous history has recorded Solomon, Pythagoras and Hermes among its distinguished votaries. From this period the study seems to have slept, till it was revived among the Arabians after a lapse of five or six hundred years. It is well known however how eagerly it was cultivated in various countries of the world for many centuries after it was divulged by Geber. Men of the most wonderful talents devoted their lives to the investigation; and in multiplied instances the discovery was said to have been completed. Vast sums of money were consumed in the fruitless endeavour; and in a later period it seems to have furnished an excellent handle to vain and specious projectors, to extort money from those more amply provided with the goods of fortune than themselves. The art no doubt is in itself sufficiently mystical, having been pursued by multitudes, who seemed to themselves ever on the eve of consummation, but as constantly baffled when to their own apprehension most on the verge of success. The discovery indeed appears upon the face of it to be of the most delicate nature, as the benefit must wholly depend upon its being reserved to one or a very few, the object being unbounded wealth, which is nothing unless confined. If the power of creating gold is diffused, wealth by such diffusion becomes poverty, and every thing after a short time would but return to what it had been. Add to which, that the nature of discovery has ordinarily been, that, when once the clue has been found, it reveals itself to several about the same period of time. The art, as we have said, is in its own nature sufficiently mystical, depending on nice combinations and proportions of ingredients, and upon the addition of each ingredient being made exactly in the critical moment, and in the precise degree of heat, indicated by the colour of the vapour arising from the crucible or retort. This was watched by the operator with inexhaustible patience; and it was often found or supposed, that the minutest error in this respect caused the most promising appearances to fail of the expected success. This circumstance no doubt occasionally gave an opportunity to an artful impostor to account for his miscarriage, and thus to prevail upon his credulous dupe to enable him to begin his tedious experiment again. But, beside this, it appears that those whose object was the transmutation of metals, very frequently joined to this pursuit the study of astrology, and even the practice of sorcery. So much delicacy and nicety were supposed to be required in the process for the transmutation of metals, that it could not hope to succeed but under a favourable conjunction of the planets; and the most flourishing pretenders to the art boasted that they had also a familiar intercourse with certain spirits of supernatural power, which assisted them in their undertakings, and enabled them to penetrate into things undiscoverable to mere human sagacity, and to predict future events. FAIRIES. Another mode in which the wild and erratic imagination of our ancestors manifested itself, was in the creation of a world of visionary beings of a less terrific character, but which did not fail to annoy their thoughts, and perplex their determinations, known by the name of Fairies. There are few things more worthy of contemplation, and that at the same time tend to place the dispositions of our ancestors in a more amiable point of view, than the creation of this airy and fantastic race. They were so diminutive as almost to elude the organs of human sight. They were at large, even though confined to the smallest dimensions. They "could be bounded in a nutshell, and count themselves kings of infinite space." Their midnight revels, by a forest-side Or fountain, the belated peasant saw, Or dreamed he saw, while overhead the moon Sat arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheeled her pale course--they, on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charmed his ear; At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. Small circles marked the grass in solitary places, the trace of their little feet, which, though narrow, were ample enough to afford every accommodation to their pastime. The fairy tribes appear to have been every where distinguished for their patronage of truth, simplicity and industry, and their abhorrence of sensuality and prevarication. They left little rewards in secret, as tokens of their approbation of the virtues they loved, and by their supernatural power afforded a supplement to pure and excellent intentions, when the corporeal powers of the virtuous sank under the pressure of human infirmity. Where they conceived displeasure, the punishments they inflicted were for the most part such as served moderately to vex and harass the offending party, rather than to inflict upon him permanent and irremediable evils. Their airy tongues would syllable men's names On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. They were supposed to guide the wandering lights, that in the obscurity of the night beguiled the weary traveller "through bog, through bush, through brake, through briar." But their power of evil only extended, or was only employed, to vex those who by a certain obliquity of conduct gave occasion for their reproofs. They besides pinched and otherwise tormented the objects of their displeasure; and, though the mischiefs they executed were not of the most vital kind, yet, coming from a supernatural enemy, and being inflicted by invisible hands, they could not fail greatly to disturb and disorder those who suffered from them. There is at first sight a great inconsistency in the representations of these imaginary people. For the most part they are described to us as of a stature and appearance, almost too slight to be marked by our grosser human organs. At other times however, and especially in the extremely popular tales digested by M. Perrault, they shew themselves in indiscriminate assemblies, brought together for some solemn festivity or otherwise, and join the human frequenters of the scene, without occasioning enquiry or surprise. They are particularly concerned in the business of summarily and without appeal bestowing miraculous gifts, sometimes as a mark of special friendship and favour, and sometimes with a malicious and hostile intention.--But we are to consider that spirits Can every form assume; so soft And uncompounded is their essence pure; Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, Like cumbrous flesh; but, in what shape they choose, Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure, Can execute their airy purposes, And works of love or enmity fulfil. And then again, as their bounties were shadowy, so were they specially apt to disappear in a moment, the most splendid palaces and magnificent exhibitions vanishing away, and leaving their disconcerted dupe with his robes converted into the poorest rags, and, instead of glittering state, finding himself suddenly in the midst of desolation, and removed no man knew whither. One of the mischiefs that were most frequently imputed to them, was the changing the beautiful child of some doating parents, for a babe marked with ugliness and deformity. But this idea seems fraught with inconsistency. The natural stature of the fairy is of the smallest dimensions; and, though they could occasionally dilate their figure so as to imitate humanity, yet it is to be presumed that this was only for a special purpose, and, that purpose obtained, that they shrank again habitually into their characteristic littleness. The change therefore can only be supposed to have been of one human child for another. ROSICRUCIANS. Nothing very distinct has been ascertained respecting a sect, calling itself Rosicrucians. It is said to have originated in the East from one of the crusaders in the fourteenth century; but it attracted at least no public notice till the beginning of the seventeenth century. Its adherents appear to have imbibed their notions from the Arabians, and claimed the possession of the philosopher's stone, the art of transmuting metals, and the _elixir vitae_. SYLPHS AND GNOMES, SALAMANDERS AND UNDINES. But that for which they principally excited public attention, was their creed respecting certain elementary beings, which to grosser eyes are invisible, but were familiarly known to the initiated. To be admitted to their acquaintance it was previously necessary that the organs of human sight should be purged by the universal medicine, and that certain glass globes should be chemically prepared with one or other of the four elements, and for one month exposed to the beams of the sun. These preliminary steps being taken, the initiated immediately had a sight of innumerable beings of a luminous substance, but of thin and evanescent structure, that people the elements on all sides of us. Those who inhabited the air were called Sylphs; and those who dwelt in the earth bore the name of Gnomes; such as peopled the fire were Salamanders; and those who made their home in the waters were Undines. Each class appears to have had an extensive power in the elements to which they belonged. They could raise tempests in the air, and storms at sea, shake the earth, and alarm the inhabitants of the globe with the sight of devouring flames. These appear however to have been more formidable in appearance than in reality. And the whole race was subordinate to man, and particularly subject to the initiated. The gnomes, inhabitants of the earth and the mines, liberally supplied to the human beings with whom they conversed, the hidden treasures over which they presided. The four classes were some of them male, and some female; but the female sex seems to have preponderated in all. These elementary beings, we are told, were by their constitution more long-lived than man, but with this essential disadvantage, that at death they wholly ceased to exist. In the mean time they were inspired with an earnest desire for immortality; and there was one way left for them, by which this desire might be gratified. If they were so happy as to awaken in any of the initiated a passion the end of which was marriage, then the sylph who became the bride of a virtuous man, followed his nature, and became immortal; while on the other hand, if she united herself to an immoral being and a profligate, the husband followed the law of the wife, and was rendered entirely mortal. The initiated however were required, as a condition to their being admitted into the secrets of the order, to engage themselves in a vow of perpetual chastity as to women. And they were abundantly rewarded by the probability of being united to a sylph, a gnome, a salamander, or an undine, any one of whom was inexpressibly more enchanting than the most beautiful woman, in addition to which her charms were in a manner perpetual, while a wife of our own nature is in a short time destined to wrinkles, and all the other disadvantages of old age. The initiated of course enjoyed a beatitude infinitely greater than that which falls to the lot of ordinary mortals, being conscious of a perpetual commerce with these wonderful beings from whose society the vulgar are debarred, and having such associates unintermittedly anxious to perform their behests, and anticipate their desires. [4] We should have taken but an imperfect survey of the lawless extravagancies of human imagination, if we had not included a survey of this sect. There is something particularly soothing to the fancy of an erratic mind, in the conception of being conversant with a race of beings the very existence of which is unperceived by ordinary mortals, and thus entering into an infinitely numerous and variegated society, even when we are apparently swallowed up in entire solitude. The Rosicrucians are further entitled to our special notice, as their tenets have had the good fortune to furnish Pope with the beautiful machinery with which he has adorned the Rape of the Lock. There is also, of much later date, a wild and poetical fiction for which we are indebted to the same source, called Undine, from the pen of Lamotte Fouquet. EXAMPLES OF NECROMANCY AND WITCHCRAFT FROM THE BIBLE. The oldest and most authentic record from which we can derive our ideas on the subject of necromancy and witchcraft, unquestionably is the Bible. The Egyptians and Chaldeans were early distinguished for their supposed proficiency in magic, in the production of supernatural phenomena, and in penetrating into the secrets of future time. The first appearance of men thus extraordinarily gifted, or advancing pretensions of this sort, recorded in Scripture, is on occasion of Pharoah's dream of the seven years of plenty, and seven years of famine. At that period the king "sent and called for all the magicians of Egypt and all the wise men; but they could not interpret the dream," [5] which Joseph afterwards expounded. Their second appearance was upon a most memorable occasion, when Moses and Aaron, armed with miraculous powers, came to a subsequent king of Egypt, to demand from him that their countrymen might be permitted to depart to another tract of the world. They produced a miracle as the evidence of their divine mission: and the king, who was also named Pharoah, "called before him the wise men and the sorcerers of Egypt, who with their enchantments did in like manner" as Moses had done; till, after some experiments in which they were apparently successful, they at length were compelled to allow themselves overcome, and fairly to confess to their master, "This is the finger of God!" [6] The spirit of the Jewish history loudly affirms, that the Creator of heaven and earth had adopted this nation for his chosen people, and therefore demanded their exclusive homage, and that they should acknowledge no other God. It is on this principle that it is made one of his early commands to them, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." [7] And elsewhere the meaning of this prohibition is more fully explained: "There shall not be found among you any one that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer: [8] these shall surely be put to death; they shall stone them with stones." [9] The character of an enchanter is elsewhere more fully illustrated in the case of Balaam, the soothsayer, who was sent for by Balak, the king of Moab, that he might "curse the people of Israel. The messengers of the king came to Balaam with the rewards of divination in their hand;" [10] but the soothsayer was restrained from his purpose by the God of the Jews, and, where he came to curse, was compelled to bless. He therefore "did not go, as at other times, to seek for enchantments," [11] but took up his discourse, and began, saying, "Surely there is no enchantment against Jacob, neither is there any divination against Israel!" [12] Another example of necromantic power or pretension is to be found in the story of Saul and the witch of Endor. Saul, the first king of the Jews, being rejected by God, and obtaining "no answer to his enquiries, either by dreams, or by prophets, said to his servants, seek me a woman that has a familiar spirit. And his servants, said, Lo, there is a woman that has a familiar spirit at Endor." Saul accordingly had recourse to her. But, previously to this time, in conformity to the law of God, he "had cut off those that had familiar spirits, and the wizards out of the land;" and the woman therefore was terrified at his present application. Saul re-assured her; and in consequence the woman consented to call up the person he should name. Saul demanded of her to bring up the ghost of Samuel. The ghost, whether by her enchantments or through divine interposition we are not told, appeared, and prophesied to Saul, that he and his son should fall in battle on the succeeding day, [13] which accordingly came to pass. Manasseh, a subsequent king in Jerusalem, "observed times, and used enchantments, and dealt with familiar spirits and wizards, and so provoked God to anger." [14] It appears plainly from the same authority, that there were good spirits and evil spirits, "The Lord said, Who shall persuade Ahab, that he may go up, and fall before Ramoth Gilead? And there came a spirit, and stood before the Lord, and said, I will persuade him: I will go forth, and be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets. And the Lord said, Thou shall persuade him." [15] In like manner, we are told, "Satan stood up against Israel, and provoked David to number the people; and God was displeased with the thing, and smote Israel, so that there fell of the people seventy thousand men." [16] Satan also, in the Book of Job, presented himself before the Lord among the Sons of God, and asked and obtained leave to try the faithfulness of Job by "putting forth his hand," and despoiling the patriarch of "all that he had." Taking these things into consideration, there can be no reasonable doubt, though the devil and Satan are not mentioned in the story, that the serpent who in so crafty a way beguiled Eve, was in reality no other than the malevolent enemy of mankind under that disguise. We are in the same manner informed of the oracles of the false Gods; and an example occurs of a king of Samaria, who fell sick, and who "sent messengers, and said to them, Go, and enquire of Baalzebub, the God of Ekron, whether I shall recover of this disease." At which proceeding the God of the Jews was displeased, and sent Elijah to the messengers to say, "Is it because there is not a God in Israel, that you go to enquire of Baalzebub, the God of Ekron? Because the king has done this, he shall not recover; he shall surely die." [17] The appearance of the Wise Men of the East again occurs in considerable detail in the Prophecy of Daniel, though they are only brought forward there, as discoverers of hidden things, and interpreters of dreams. Twice, on occasion of dreams that troubled him, Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, "commanded to be called to him the magicians, and the astrologers, and the sorcerers, and the Chaldeans" of his kingdom, and each time with similar success. They confessed their incapacity; and Daniel, the prophet of the Jews, expounded to the king that in which they had failed. Nebuchadnezzar in consequence promoted Daniel to be master of the magicians. A similar scene occurred in the court of Belshazzar, the son of Nebuchadnezzar, in the case of the hand-writing on the wall. It is probable that the Jews considered the Gods of the nations around them as so many of the fallen angels, or spirits of hell, since, among other arguments, the coincidence of the name of Beelzebub, the prince of devils, [18] with Baalzebub, the God of Ekron, could scarcely have fallen out by chance. It seemed necessary to enter into these particulars, as they occur in the oldest and most authentic records from which we can derive our ideas on the subject of necromancy, witchcraft, and the claims that were set up in ancient times to the exercise of magcial power. Among these examples there is only one, that of the contention for superiority between Moses and the Wise Men of Egypt in which we are presented with their pretensions to a visible exhibition of supernatural effects. THE MAGI, OR WISE MEN OF THE EAST. The Magi, or Wise Men of the East, extended their ramifications over Egypt, Babylonia, Persia, India, and probably, though with a different name, over China, and indeed the whole known world. Their profession was of a mysterious nature. They laid claim to a familiar intercourse with the Gods. They placed themselves as mediators between heaven and earth, assumed the prerogative of revealing the will of beings of a nature superior to man, and pretended to show wonders and prodigies that surpassed any power which was merely human. To understand this, we must bear in mind the state of knowledge in ancient times, where for the most part the cultivation of the mind, and an acquaintance with either science or art, were confined to a very small part of the population. In each of the nations we have mentioned, there was a particular caste or tribe of men, who, by the prerogative of their birth, were entitled to the advantages of science and a superior education, while the rest of their countrymen were destined to subsist by manual labour. This of necessity gave birth in the privileged few to an overweening sense of their own importance. They scarcely regarded the rest of their countrymen as beings of the same species with themselves; and, finding a strong line of distinction cutting them off from the herd, they had recourse to every practicable method for making that distinction still stronger. Wonder is one of the most obvious means of generating deference; and, by keeping to themselves the grounds and process of their skill, and presenting the results only, they were sure to excite the admiration and reverence of their contemporaries. This mode of proceeding further produced a re-action upon themselves. That which supplied and promised to supply to them so large a harvest of honour and fame, unavoidably became precious in their eyes. They pursued their discoveries with avidity, because few had access to their opportunities in that respect, and because, the profounder were their researches, the more sure they were of being looked up to by the public as having that in them which was sacred and inviolable. They spent their days and nights in these investigations. They shrank from no privation and labour. At the same time that in these labours they had at all times an eye to their darling object, an ascendancy over the minds of their countrymen at large, and the extorting from them a blind and implicit deference to their oracular decrees. They however loved their pursuits for the pursuits themselves. They felt their abstraction and their unlimited nature, and on that account contemplated them with admiration. They valued them (for such is the indestructible character of the human mind) for the pains they had bestowed on them. The sweat of their brow grew into a part as it were of the intrinsic merit of the articles; and that which had with so much pains been attained by them, they could not but regard as of inestimable worth. EGYPT. The Egyptians took the lead in early antiquity, with respect to civilisation and the stupendous productions of human labour and art, of all other known nations of the world. The pyramids stand by themselves as a monument of the industry of mankind. Thebes, with her hundred gates, at each of which we are told she could send out at once two hundred chariots and ten thousand warriors completely accoutred, was one of the noblest cities on record. The whole country of Lower Egypt was intersected with canals giving a beneficent direction to the periodical inundations of the Nile; and the artificial lake Moeris was dug of a vast extent, that it might draw off the occasional excesses of the overflowings of the river. The Egyptians had an extraordinary custom of preserving their dead, so that the country was peopled almost as numerously with mummies prepared by extreme assiduity and skill, as with the living. And, in proportion to their edifices and labours of this durable sort, was their unwearied application to all the learning that was then known. Geometry is said to have owed its existence to the necessity under which they were placed of every man recognising his own property in land, as soon as the overflowings of the Nile had ceased. They were not less assiduous in their application to astronomy. The hieroglyphics of Egypt are of universal notoriety. Their mythology was of the most complicated nature. Their Gods were infinitely varied in their kind; and the modes of their worship not less endlessly diversified. All these particulars still contributed to the abstraction of their studies, and the loftiness of their pretensions to knowledge. They perpetually conversed with the invisible world, and laid claim to the faculty of revealing things hidden, of foretelling future events, and displaying wonders that exceeded human power to produce. A striking illustration of the state of Egypt in that respect in early times, occurs incidentally in the history of Joseph in the Bible. Jacob had twelve sons, among whom his partiality for Joseph was so notorious, that his brethren out of envy sold him as a slave to the wandering Midianites. Thus it was his fortune to be placed in Egypt, where in the process of events he became the second man in the country, and chief minister of the king. A severe famine having visited these climates, Jacob sent his sons into Egypt to buy corn, where only it was to be found. As soon as Joseph saw them, he knew them, though they knew not him in his exalted situation; and he set himself to devise expedients to settle them permanently in the country in which he ruled. Among the rest he caused a precious cup from his stores to be privily conveyed into the corn-sack of Benjamin, his only brother by the same mother. The brothers were no sooner departed, than Joseph sent in pursuit of them; and the messengers accosted them with the words, "Is not this the cup in which my lord drinketh, and whereby also he divineth? Ye have done evil in taking it away." [19] They brought the strangers again into the presence of Joseph, who addressed them with severity, saying, "What is this deed that ye have done? Wot ye not that such a man as I could certainly divine?" [20] From this story it plainly appears, that the art of divination was extensively exercised in Egypt, that the practice was held in honour, and that such was the state of the country, that it was to be presumed as a thing of course, that a man of the high rank and distinction of Joseph should professedly be an adept in it. In the great contention for supernatural power between Moses and the magicians of Egypt, it is plain that they came forward with confidence, and did not shrink from the debate. Moses's rod was turned into a serpent; so were their rods: Moses changed the waters of Egypt into blood; and the magicians did the like with their enchantments: Moses caused frogs to come up, and cover the land of Egypt; and the magicians also brought frogs upon the country. Without its being in any way necessary to enquire how they effected these wonders, it is evident from the whole train of the narrative, that they must have been much in the practice of astonishing their countrymen with their feats in such a kind, and, whether it were delusion, or to whatever else we may attribute their success, that they were universally looked up to for the extraordinariness of their performances. While we are on this subject of illustrations from the Bible, it may be worth while to revert more particularly to the story of Balaam. Balak the king of Moab, sent for Balaam that he might come and curse the invaders of his country; and in the sequel we are told, when the prophet changed his curses into a blessing, that he did not "go forth, as at other times, to seek for enchantments." It is plain therefore that Balak did not rely singly upon the eloquence and fervour of Balaam to pour out vituperations upon the people of Israel, but that it was expected that the prophet should use incantations and certain mystical rites, upon which the efficacy of his foretelling disaster to the enemy principally depended. STATUE OF MEMNON. The Magi of Egypt looked round in every quarter for phenomena that might produce astonishment among their countrymen, and induce them to believe that they dwelt in a land which overflowed with the testimonies and presence of a divine power. Among others the statue of Memnon, erected over his tomb near Thebes, is recorded by many authors. Memnon is said to have been the son of Aurora, the Goddess of the morning; and his statue is related to have had the peculiar faculty of uttering a melodious sound every morning when touched by the first beams of day, as if to salute his mother; and every night at sunset to have imparted another sound, low and mournful, as lamenting the departure of the day. This prodigy is spoken of by Tacitus, Strabo, Juvenal and Philostratus. The statue uttered these sounds, while perfect; and, when it was mutilated by human violence, or by a convulsion of nature, it still retained the property with which it had been originally endowed. Modern travellers, for the same phenomenon has still been observed, have asserted that it does not owe its existence to any prodigy, but to a property of the granite, of which the statue or its pedestal is formed, which, being hollow, is found in various parts of the world to exhibit this quality. It has therefore been suggested, that the priests, having ascertained its peculiarity, expressly formed the statue of that material, for the purpose of impressing on it a supernatural character, and thus being enabled to extend their influence with a credulous people. [21] TEMPLE OF JUPITER AMMON: ITS ORACLES. Another of what may be considered as the wonders of Egypt, is the temple of Jupiter Ammon in the midst of the Great Desert. This temple was situated at a distance of no less than twelve days' journey from Memphis, the capital of the Lower Egypt. The principal part of this space consisted of one immense tract of moving sand, so hot as to be intolerable to the sole of the foot, while the air was pregnant with fire, so that it was almost impossible to breathe in it. Not a drop of water, not a tree, not a blade of grass, was to be found through this vast surface. It was here that Cambyses, engaged in an impious expedition to demolish the temple, is said to have lost an army of fifty thousand men, buried in the sands. When you arrived however, you were presented with a wood of great circumference, the foliage of which was so thick that the beams of the sun could not pierce it. The atmosphere of the place was of a delicious temperature; the scene was every where interspersed with fountains; and all the fruits of the earth were found in the highest perfection. In the midst was the temple and oracle of the God, who was worshipped in the likeness of a ram. The Egyptian priests chose this site as furnishing a test of the zeal of their votaries; the journey being like the pilgrimage to Jerusalem or Mecca, if not from so great a distance, yet attended in many respects with perils more formidable. It was not safe to attempt the passage but with moderate numbers, and those expressly equipped for expedition. Bacchus is said to have visited this spot in his great expedition to the East, when Jupiter appeared to him in the form of a ram, having struck his foot upon the soil, and for the first time occasioned that supply of water, with which the place was ever after plentifully supplied. Alexander the Great in a subsequent age undertook the same journey with his army, that he might cause himself to be acknowledged for the son of the God, under which character he was in all due form recognised. The priests no doubt had heard of the successful battles of the Granicus and of Issus, of the capture of Tyre after a seven months' siege, and of the march of the great conqueror in Egypt, where he carried every thing before him. Here we are presented with a striking specimen of the mode and spirit in which the oracles of old were accustomed to be conducted. It may be said that the priests were corrupted by the rich presents which Alexander bestowed on them with a liberal hand. But this was not the prime impulse in the business. They were astonished at the daring with which Alexander with a comparative handful of men set out from Greece, having meditated the overthrow of the great Persian empire. They were astonished with his perpetual success, and his victorious progress from the Hellespont to mount Taurus, from mount Taurus to Pelusium, and from Pelusium quite across the ancient kingdom of Egypt to the Palus Mareotis. Accustomed to the practice of adulation, and to the belief that mortal power and true intellectual greatness were the same, they with a genuine enthusiastic fervour regarded Alexander as the son of their God, and acknowledged him as such.--Nothing can be more memorable than the way in which belief and unbelief hold a divided empire over the human mind, our passions hurrying us into belief, at the same time that our intervals of sobriety suggest to us that it is all pure imposition. CHALDEA AND BABYLON. The history of the Babylonish monarchy not having been handed down to us, except incidentally as it is touched upon by the historians of other countries, we know little of those anecdotes respecting it which are best calculated to illustrate the habits and manners of a people. We know that they in probability preceded all other nations in the accuracy of their observations on the phenomena of the heavenly bodies. We know that the Magi were highly respected among them as an order in the state; and that, when questions occurred exciting great alarm in the rulers, "the magicians, the astrologers, the sorcerers, and the Chaldeans," were called together, to see whether by their arts they could throw light upon questions so mysterious and perplexing, and we find sufficient reason, both from analogy, and from the very circumstance that sorcerers are specifically named among the classes of which their Wise Men consisted, to believe that the Babylonian Magi advanced no dubious pretensions to the exercise of magical power. ZOROASTER. Among the Chaldeans the most famous name is that of Zoroaster, who is held to have been the author of their religion, their civil policy, their sciences, and their magic. He taught the doctrine of two great principles, the one the author of good, the other of evil. He prohibited the use of images in the ceremonies of religion, and pronounced that nothing deserved homage but fire, and the sun, the centre and the source of fire, and these perhaps to be venerated not for themselves, but as emblematical of the principle of all good things. He taught astronomy and astrology. We may with sufficient probability infer his doctrines from those of the Magi, who were his followers. He practised enchantments, by means of which he would send a panic among the forces that were brought to make war against him, rendering the conflict by force of arms unnecessary. He prescribed the use of certain herbs as all-powerful for the production of supernatural effects. He pretended to the faculty of working miracles, and of superseding and altering the ordinary course of nature.--There was, beside the Chaldean Zoroaster, a Persian known by the same name, who is said to have been a contemporary of Darius Hystaspes. GREECE. Thus obscure and general is our information respecting the Babylonians. But it was far otherwise with the Greeks. Long before the period, when, by their successful resistance to the Persian invasion, they had rendered themselves of paramount importance in the history of the civilised world, they had their poets and annalists, who preserved to future time the memory of their tastes, their manners and superstitions, their strength, and their weakness. Homer in particular had already composed his two great poems, rendering the peculiarities of his countrymen familiar to the latest posterity. The consequence of this is, that the wonderful things of early Greece are even more frequent than the record of its sober facts. As men advance in observation and experience, they are compelled more and more to perceive that all the phenomena of nature are one vast chain of uninterrupted causes and consequences: but to the eye of uninstructed ignorance every thing is astonishing, every thing is unexpected. The remote generations of mankind are in all cases full of prodigies: but it is the fortune of Greece to have preserved its early adventures, so as to render the beginning pages of its history one mass of impossible falsehoods. DEITIES OF GREECE. The Gods of the Greeks appear all of them once to have been men. Their real or supposed adventures therefore make a part of what is recorded respecting them. Jupiter was born in Crete, and being secreted by his mother in a cave, was suckled by a goat. Being come to man's estate, he warred with the giants, one of whom had an hundred hands, and two others brethren, grew nine inches every month, and, when nine years old, were fully qualified to engage in all exploits of corporeal strength. The war was finished, by the giants being overwhelmed with the thunderbolts of heaven, and buried under mountains. Minerva was born from the head of her father, without a mother; and Bacchus, coming into the world after the death of his female parent, was inclosed in the thigh of Jupiter, and was thus produced at the proper time in full vigour and strength. Minerva had a shield, in which was preserved the real head of Medusa, that had the property of turning every one that looked on it into stone. Bacchus, when a child, was seized on by pirates with the intention to sell him for a slave: but he waved a spear, and the oars of the sailors were turned into vines, which climbed the masts, and spread their clusters over the sails; and tigers, lynxes and panthers, appeared to swim round the ship, so terrifying the crew that they leaped overboard, and were changed into dolphins. Bacchus, in his maturity, is described as having been the conqueror of India. He did not set out on this expedition like other conquerors, at the head of an army. He rode in an open chariot, which was drawn by tame lions. His attendants were men and women in great multitudes, eminently accomplished in the arts of rural industry. Wherever he came, he taught men the science of husbandry, and the cultivation of the vine. Wherever he came, he was received, not with hostility, but with festivity and welcome. On his return however, Lycurgus, king of Thrace, and Pentheus, king of Thebes, set themselves in opposition to the improvements which the East had received with the most lively gratitude; and Bacchus, to punish them, caused Lycurgus to be torn to pieces by wild horses, and spread a delusion among the family of Pentheus, so that they mistook him for a wild boar which had broken into their vineyards, and of consequence fell upon him, and he expired amidst a thousand wounds. Apollo was the author of plagues and contagious diseases; at the same time that, when he pleased, he could restore salubrity to a climate, and health and vigour to the sons of men. He was the father of poetry, and possessed in an eminent degree the gift of foretelling future events. Hecate, which was one of the names of Diana, was distinguished as the Goddess of magic and enchantments. Venus was the Goddess of love, the most irresistible and omnipotent impulse of which the heart of man is susceptible. The wand of Mercury was endowed with such virtues, that whoever it touched, if asleep, would start up into life and alacrity, and, if awake, would immediately fall into a profound sleep. When it touched the dying, their souls gently parted from their mortal frame; and, when it was applied to the dead, the dead returned to life. Neptune had the attribute of raising and appeasing tempests: and Vulcan, the artificer of heaven and earth, not only produced the most exquisite specimens of skill, but also constructed furniture that was endowed with a self-moving principle, and would present itself for use or recede at the will of its proprietor. Pluto, in perpetrating the rape of Proserpine, started up in his chariot through a cleft of the earth in the vale of Enna in Sicily, and, having seized his prize, disappeared again by the way that he came. Ceres, the mother of Proserpine, in her search after her lost daughter, was received with peculiar hospitality by Celeus, king of Eleusis. She became desirous of remunerating his liberality by some special favour. She saw his only child laid in a cradle, and labouring under a fatal distemper. She took him under her protection. She fed him with milk from her own breast, and at night covered him with coals of fire. Under this treatment he not only recovered his strength, but shot up miraculously into manhood, so that what in other men is the effect of years, was accomplished in Triptolemus in as many hours. She gave him for a gift the art of agriculture, so that he is said to have been the first to teach mankind to sow and to reap corn, and to make bread of the produce. Prometheus, one of the race of the giants, was peculiarly distinguished for his proficiency in the arts. Among other extraordinary productions he formed a man of clay, of such exquisite workmanship, as to have wanted nothing but a living soul to cause him to be acknowledged as the paragon of the world. Minerva beheld the performance of Prometheus with approbation, and offered him her assistance. She conducted him to heaven, where he watched his opportunity to carry off on the tip of his wand a portion of celestial fire from the chariot of the sun. With this he animated his image; and the man of Prometheus moved, and thought, and spoke, and became every thing that the fondest wishes of his creator could ask. Jupiter ordered Vulcan to make a woman, that should surpass this man. All the Gods gave her each one a several gift: Venus gave her the power to charm; the Graces bestowed on her symmetry of limb, and elegance of motion; Apollo the accomplishments of vocal and instrumental music; Mercury the art of persuasive speech; Juno a multitude of rich and gorgeous ornaments; and Minerva the management of the loom and the needle. Last of all, Jupiter presented her with a sealed box, of which the lid was no sooner unclosed, than a multitude of calamities and evils of all imaginable sorts flew out, only Hope remaining at the bottom. Deucalion was the son of Prometheus and Pyrrha, his niece. They married. In their time a flood occurred, which as they imagined destroyed the whole human race; they were the only survivors. By the direction of an oracle they cast stones over their shoulders; when, by the divine interposition, the stones cast by Deucalion became men, and those cast by Pyrrha women. Thus the earth was re-peopled. I have put down a few of these particulars, as containing in several instances the qualities of what is called magic, and thus furnishing examples of some of the earliest occasions upon which supernatural powers have been alleged to mix with human affairs. DEMIGODS. The early history of mortals in Greece is scarcely separated from that of the Gods. The first adventurer that it is perhaps proper to notice, as his exploits have I know not what of magic in them, is Perseus, the founder of the metropolis and kingdom of Mycenae. By way of rendering his birth illustrious, he is said to have been the son of Jupiter, by Danae, the daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos. The king, being forewarned by an oracle that his daughter should bear a son, by whose hand her father should be deprived of life, thought proper to shut her up in a tower of brass. Jupiter, having metamorphosed himself into a shower of gold, found his way into her place of confinement, and became the father of Perseus. On the discovery of this circumstance, Acrisius caused both mother and child to be inclosed in a chest, and committed to the waves. The chest however drifted upon the lands of a person of royal descent in the island of Seriphos, who extended his care and hospitality to both. When Perseus grew to man's estate, he was commissioned by the king of Seriphos to bring him the head of Medusa, one of the Gorgons. Medusa had the wonderful faculty, that whoever met her eyes was immediately turned into stone; and the king, who had conceived a passion for Danae, sent her son on this enterprise, with the hope that he would never come back alive. He was however favoured by the Gods; Mercury gave him wings to fly, Pluto an invisible helmet, and Minerva a mirror-shield, by looking in which he could discover how his enemy was disposed, without the danger of meeting her eyes. Thus equipped, he accomplished his undertaking, cut off the head of the Gorgon, and pursed it in a bag. From this exploit he proceeded to visit Atlas, king of Mauritania, who refused him hospitality, and in revenge Perseus turned him into stone. He next rescued Andromeda, daughter of the king of Ethiopia, from a monster sent by Neptune to devour her. And, lastly, returning to his mother, and finding the king of Seriphos still incredulous and obstinate, he turned him likewise into a stone. The labours of Hercules, the most celebrated of the Greeks of the heroic age, appear to have had little of magic in them, but to have been indebted for their success to a corporal strength, superior to that of all other mortals, united with an invincible energy of mind, which disdained to yield to any obstacle that could be opposed to him. His achievements are characteristic of the rude and barbarous age in which he lived: he strangled serpents, and killed the Erymanthian boar, the Nemaean lion, and the Hydra. DAEDALUS. Nearly contemporary with the labours of Hercules is the history of Pasiphae and the Minotaur; and this brings us again within the sphere of magic. Pasiphae was the wife of Minos, king of Crete, who conceived an unnatural passion for a beautiful white bull, which Neptune had presented to the king. Having found the means of gratifying her passion, she became the mother of a monster, half-man and half-bull, called the Minotaur. Minos was desirous of hiding this monster from the observation of mankind, and for this purpose applied to Daedalus, an Athenian, the most skilful artist of his time, who is said to have invented the axe, the wedge, and the plummet, and to have found out the use of glue. He first contrived masts and sails for ships, and carved statues so admirably, that they not only looked as if they were alive, but had actually the power of self-motion, and would have escaped from the custody of their possessor, if they had not been chained to the wall. Daedalus contrived for Minos a labyrinth, a wonderful structure, that covered many acres of ground. The passages in this edifice met and crossed each other with such intricacy, that a stranger who had once entered the building, would have been starved to death before he could find his way out. In this labyrinth Minos shut up the Minotaur. Having conceived a deep resentment against the people of Athens, where his only son had been killed in a riot, he imposed upon them an annual tribute of seven noble youths, and as many virgins to be devoured by the Minotaur. Theseus, son of the king of Athens, put an end to this disgrace. He was taught by Ariadne, the daughter of Minos, how to destroy the monster, and furnished with a clue by which afterwards to find his way out of the labyrinth. Daedalus for some reason having incurred the displeasure of Minos, was made a prisoner by him in his own labyrinth. But the artist being never at an end of his inventions, contrived with feathers and wax to make a pair of wings for himself, and escaped. Icarus, his son, who was prisoner along with him, was provided by his father with a similar equipment. But the son, who was inexperienced and heedless, approached too near to the sun in his flight; and, the wax of his wings being melted with the heat, he fell into the sea and was drowned. THE ARGONAUTS. Contemporary with the reign of Minos occurred the expedition of the Argonauts. Jason, the son of the king of Iolchos in Thessaly, was at the head of this expedition. Its object was to fetch the golden fleece, which was hung up in a grove sacred to Mars, in the kingdom of Colchis, at the eastern extremity of the Euxine sea. He enlisted in this enterprise all the most gallant spirits existing in the country, and among the rest Hercules, Theseus, Orpheus and Amphion. After having passed through a multitude of perils, one of which was occasioned by the Cyanean rocks at the entrance of the Euxine, that had the quality of closing upon every vessel which attempted to make its way between them and crushing it to pieces, a danger that could only be avoided by sending a dove before as their harbinger, they at length arrived. MEDEA. The golden fleece was defended by bulls, whose hoofs were brass, and whose breath was fire, and by a never-sleeping dragon that planted itself at the foot of the tree upon which the fleece was suspended. Jason was prepared for his undertaking by Medea, the daughter of the king of the country, herself an accomplished magician, and furnished with philtres, drugs and enchantments. Thus equipped, he tamed the bulls, put a yoke on their necks, and caused them to plough two acres of the stiffest land. He killed the dragon, and, to complete the adventure, drew the monster's teeth, sowed them in the ground, and saw an army of soldiers spring from the seed. The army hastened forward to attack him; but he threw a large stone into the midst of their ranks, when they immediately turned from him, and, falling on each other, were all killed with their mutual weapons. The adventure being accomplished, Medea set out with Jason on his return to Thessaly. On their arrival, they found Aeson, the father of Jason, and Pelias, his uncle, who had usurped the throne, both old and decrepid. Jason applied to Medea, and asked her whether among her charms she had none to make an old man young again. She replied she had: she drew the impoverished and watery blood from the body of Aeson; she infused the juice of certain potent herbs into his veins; and he rose from the operation as fresh and vigorous a man as his son. The daughters of Pelias professed a perfect willingness to abdicate the throne of Iolchos; but, before they retired, they requested Medea to do the same kindness for their father which she had already done for Aeson. She said she would. She told them the method was to cut the old man in pieces, and boil him in a kettle with an infusion of certain herbs, and he would come out as smooth and active as a child. The daughters of Pelias a little scrupled the operation. Medea, seeing this, begged they would not think she was deceiving them. If however they doubted, she desired they would bring her the oldest ram from their flocks, and they should see the experiment. Medea cut up the ram, cast in certain herbs, and the old bell-wether came out as beautiful and innocent a he-lamb as was ever beheld. The daughters of Pelias were satisfied. They divided their father in pieces; but he was never restored either to health or life. From Iolchos, upon some insurrection of the people, Medea and Jason fled to Corinth. Here they lived ten years in much harmony. At the end of that time Jason grew tired of his wife, and fell in love with Glauce, daughter of the king of Corinth. Medea was greatly exasperated with his infidelity, and, among other enormities, slew with her own hand the two children she had borne him before his face, Jason hastened to punish her barbarity; but Medea mounted a chariot drawn by fiery dragons, fled through the air to Athens, and escaped. At Athens she married Aegeus, king of that city. Aegeus by a former wife had a son, named Theseus, who for some reason had been brought up obscure, unknown and in exile. At a suitable time he returned home to his father with the intention to avow his parentage. But Medea was beforehand with him. She put a poisoned goblet into the hands of Aegeus at an entertainment he gave to Theseus, with the intent that he should deliver it to his son. At the critical moment Aegeus cast his eyes on the sword of Theseus, which he recognised as that which he had delivered with his son, when a child, and had directed that it should be brought by him, when a man, as a token of the mystery of his birth. The goblet was cast away; the father and son rushed into each other's arms; and Medea fled from Athens in her chariot drawn by dragons through the air, as she had years before fled from Corinth. CIRCE. Circe was the sister of Aeetes and Pasiphae, and was, like Medea, her niece, skilful in sorcery. She had besides the gift of immortality. She was exquisitely beautiful; but she employed the charms of her person, and the seducing grace of her manners to a bad purpose. She presented to every stranger who landed in her territory an enchanted cup, of which she intreated him to drink. He no sooner tasted it, than he was turned into a hog, and was driven by the magician to her sty. The unfortunate stranger retained under this loathsome appearance the consciousness of what he had been, and mourned for ever the criminal compliance by which he was brought to so melancholy a pass. ORPHEUS. Cicero [22] quotes Aristotle as affirming that there was no such man as Orpheus. But Aristotle is at least single in that opinion. And there are too many circumstances known respecting Orpheus, and which have obtained the consenting voice of all antiquity, to allow us to call in question his existence. He was a native of Thrace, and from that country migrated into Greece. He travelled into Egypt for the purpose of collecting there the information necessary to the accomplishment of his ends. He died a violent death; and, as is almost universally affirmed, fell a sacrifice to the resentment and fury of the women of his native soil. [23] Orpheus was doubtless a poet; though it is not probable that any of his genuine productions have been handed down to us. He was, as all the poets of so remote a period were, extremely accomplished in all the arts of vocal and instrumental music. He civilised the rude inhabitants of Greece, and subjected them to order and law. He formed them into communities. He is said by Aristophanes [24] and Horace [25] to have reclaimed the savage man, from slaughter, and an indulgence in food that was loathsome and foul. And this has with sufficient probability been interpreted to mean, that he found the race of men among whom he lived cannibals, and that, to cure them the more completely of this horrible practice, he taught them to be contented to subsist upon the fruits of the earth. [26] Music and poetry are understood to have been made specially instrumental by him to the effecting this purpose. He is said to have made the hungry lion and the famished tiger obedient to his bidding, and to put off their wild and furious natures. This is interpreted by Horace [27] and other recent expositors to mean no more than that he reduced the race of savages as he found them, to order and civilisation. But it was at first perhaps understood more literally. We shall not do justice to the traditions of these remote times, if we do not in imagination transport ourselves among them, and teach ourselves to feel their feelings, and conceive their conceptions. Orpheus lived in a time when all was enchantment and prodigy. Gifted and extraordinary persons in those ages believed that they were endowed with marvellous prerogatives, and acted upon that belief. We may occasionally observe, even in these days of the dull and the literal, how great is the ascendancy of the man over the beast, when he feels a full and entire confidence in that ascendancy. The eye and the gesture of man cannot fail to produce effects, incredible till they are seen. Magic was the order of the day; and the enthusiasm of its heroes was raised to the highest pitch, and attended with no secret misgivings. We are also to consider that, in all operations of a magical nature, there is a wonderful mixture of frankness and _bonhommie_ with a strong vein of cunning and craft. Man in every age is full of incongruous and incompatible principles; and, when we shall cease to be inconsistent, we shall cease to be men. It is difficult fully to explain what is meant by the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; but in its circumstances it bears a striking resemblance to what has been a thousand times recorded respecting the calling up of the ghosts of the dead by means of sorcery. The disconsolate husband has in the first place recourse to the resistless aid of music. [28] After many preparatives he appears to have effected his purpose, and prevailed upon the powers of darkness to allow him the presence of his beloved. She appears in the sequel however to have been a thin and a fleeting shadow. He is forbidden to cast his eyes on her; and, if he had obeyed this injunction, it is uncertain how the experiment would have ended. He proceeds however, as he is commanded, towards the light of day. He is led to believe that his consort is following his steps. He is beset with a multitude of unearthly phenomena. He advances for some time with confidence. At length he is assailed with doubts. He has recourse to the auricular sense, to know if she is following him. He can hear nothing. Finally he can endure this uncertainty no longer; and, in defiance of the prohibition he has received, cannot refrain from turning his head to ascertain whether he is baffled, and has spent all his labour in vain. He sees her; but no sooner he sees her, than she becomes evanescent and impalpable; farther and farther she retreats before him; she utters a shrill cry, and endeavours to articulate; but she grows more and more imperceptible; and in the conclusion he is left with the scene around him in all respects the same as it had been before his incantations. The result of the whole that is known of Orpheus, is, that he was an eminently great and virtuous man, but was the victim of singular calamity. We have not yet done with the history of Orpheus. As has been said, he fell a sacrifice to the resentment and fury of the women of his native soil. They are affirmed to have torn him limb from limb. His head, divided from his body, floated down the waters of the Hebrus, and miraculously, as it passed along to the sea, it was still heard to exclaim in mournful accents, Eurydice, Eurydice! [29] At length it was carried ashore on the island of Lesbos. [30] Here, by some extraordinary concurrence of circumstances, it found a resting-place in a fissure of a rock over-arched by a cave, and, thus domiciliated, is said to have retained the power of speech, and to have uttered oracles. Not only the people of Lesbos resorted to it for guidance in difficult questions, but also the Asiatic Greeks from Ionia and Aetolia; and its fame and character for predicting future events even extended to Babylon. [31] AMPHION. The story of Amphion is more perplexing than that of the living Orpheus. Both of them turn in a great degree upon the miraculous effects of music. Amphion was of the royal family of Thebes, and ultimately became ruler of the territory. He is said, by the potency of his lyre, or his skill in the magic art, to have caused the stones to follow him, to arrange themselves in the way he proposed, and without the intervention of a human hand to have raised a wall about his metropolis. [32] It is certainly less difficult to conceive the savage man to be rendered placable, and to conform to the dictates of civilisation, or even wild beasts to be made tame, than to imagine stones to obey the voice and the will of a human being. The example however is not singular; and hereafter we shall find related that Merlin, the British enchanter, by the power of magic caused the rocks of Stonehenge, though of such vast dimensions, to be carried through the air from Ireland to the place where we at present find them.--Homer mentions that Amphion, and his brother Zethus built the walls of Thebes, but does not describe it as having been done by miracle. [33] TIRESIAS. Tiresias was one of the most celebrated soothsayers of the early ages of Greece. He lived in the times of Oedipus, and the war of the seven chiefs against Thebes. He was afflicted by the Gods with blindness, in consequence of some displeasure they conceived against him; but in compensation they endowed him beyond all other mortals with the gift of prophecy. He is said to have understood the language of birds. He possessed the art of divining future events from the various indications that manifest themselves in fire, in smoke, and in other ways, [34] but to have set the highest value upon the communications of the dead, whom by spells and incantations he constrained to appear and answer his enquiries; [35] and he is represented as pouring out tremendous menaces against them, when they shewed themselves tardy to attend upon his commands. [36] ABARIS. Abaris, the Scythian, known to us for his visit to Greece, was by all accounts a great magician. Herodotus says [37] that he is reported to have travelled over the world with an arrow, eating nothing during his journey. Other authors relate that this arrow was given to him by Apollo, and that he rode upon it through the air, over lands, and seas, and all inaccessible places. [38] The time in which he flourished is very uncertain, some having represented him as having constructed the Palladium, which, as long as it was preserved, kept Troy from being taken by an enemy, [39] and others affirming that he was familiar with Pythagoras, who lived six hundred years later, and that he was admitted into his special confidence. [40] He is said to have possessed the faculty of foretelling earthquakes, allaying storms, and driving away pestilence; he gave out predictions wherever he went; and is described as an enchanter, professing to cure diseases by virtue of certain words which he pronounced over those who were afflicted with them. [41] PYTHAGORAS. The name of Pythagoras is one of the most memorable in the records of the human species; and his character is well worthy of the minutest investigation. By this name we are brought at once within the limits of history properly so called. He lived in the time of Cyrus and Darius Hystaspes, of Croesus, of Pisistratus, of Polycrates, tyrant of Samos, and Amasis, king of Egypt. Many hypotheses have been laid down respecting the precise period of his birth and death; but, as it is not to our purpose to enter into any lengthened discussions of that sort, we will adopt at once the statement that appears to be the most probable, which is that of Lloyd, [42] who fixes his birth about the year before Christ 586, and his death about the year 506. Pythagoras was a man of the most various accomplishments, and appears to have penetrated in different directions into the depths of human knowledge. He sought wisdom in its retreats of fairest promise, in Egypt and other distant countries. [43] In this investigation he employed the earlier period of his life, probably till he was forty, and devoted the remainder to such modes of proceeding, as appeared to him the most likely to secure the advantage of what he had acquired to a late posterity. [44] He founded a school, and delivered his acquisitions by oral communication to a numerous body of followers. He divided his pupils into two classes, the one neophytes, to whom was explained only the most obvious and general truths, the other who were admitted into the entire confidence of the master. These last he caused to throw their property into a common stock, and to live together in the same place of resort. [45] He appears to have spent the latter half of his life in that part of Italy, called Magna Graecia, so denominated in some degree from the numerous colonies of Grecians by whom it was planted, and partly perhaps from the memory of the illustrious things which Pythagoras achieved there. [46] He is said to have spread the seeds of political liberty in Crotona, Sybaris, Metapontum, and Rhegium, and from thence in Sicily to Tauromenium, Catana, Agrigentum and Himera. [47] Charondas and Zaleucus, themselves famous legislators, derived the rudiments of their political wisdom from the instructions of Pythagoras. [48] But this marvellous man in some way, whether from the knowlege he received, or from his own proper discoveries, has secured to his species benefits of a more permanent nature, and which shall outlive the revolutions of ages, and the instability of political institutions. He was a profound geometrician. The two theorems, that the internal angles of every right-line triangle are equal to two right angles, [49] and that the square of the hypothenuse of every right angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides, [50] are ascribed to him. In memory of the latter of these discoveries he is said to have offered a public sacrifice to the Gods; and the theorem is still known by the name of the Pythagorean theorem. He ascertained from the length of the Olympic course, which was understood to have measured six hundred of Hercules's feet, the precise stature of that hero. [51] Lastly, Pythagoras is the first person, who is known to have taught the spherical figure of the earth, and that we have antipodes; [52] and he propagated the doctrine that the earth is a planet, and that the sun is the centre round which the earth and the other planets move, now known by the name of the Copernican system. [53] To inculcate a pure and a simple mode of subsistence was also an express object of pursuit to Pythagoras. He taught a total abstinence from every thing having had the property of animal life. It has been affirmed, as we have seen, [54] that Orpheus before him taught the same thing. But the claim of Orpheus to this distinction is ambiguous; while the theories and dogmas of the Samian sage, as he has frequently been styled, were more methodically digested, and produced more lasting and unequivocal effects. He taught temperance in all its branches, and a resolute subjection of the appetites of the body to contemplation and the exercises of the mind; and, by the unremitted discipline and authority he exerted over his followers, he caused his lessons to be constantly observed. There was therefore an edifying and an exemplary simplicity that prevailed as far as the influence of Pythagoras extended, that won golden opinions to his adherents at all times that they appeared, and in all places. [55] One revolution that Pythagoras worked, was that, whereas, immediately before, those who were most conspicuous among the Greeks as instructors of mankind in understanding and virtue, styled themselves sophists, professors of wisdom, this illustrious man desired to be known only by the appellation of a philosopher, a lover of wisdom. [56] The sophists had previously brought their denomination into discredit and reproach, by the arrogance of their pretensions, and the imperious way in which they attempted to lay down the law to the world. The modesty of this appellation however did not altogether suit with the deep designs of Pythagoras, the ascendancy he resolved to acquire, and the oracular subjection in which he deemed it necessary to hold those who placed themselves under his instruction. This wonderful man set out with making himself a model of the passive and unscrupulous docility which he afterwards required from others. He did not begin to teach till he was forty years of age, and from eighteen to that period he studied in foreign countries, with the resolution to submit to all his teachers enjoined, and to make himself master of their least communicated and most secret wisdom. In Egypt in particular, we are told that, though he brought a letter of recommendation from Polycrates, his native sovereign, to Amasis, king of that country, who fully concurred with the views of the writer, the priests, jealous of admitting a foreigner into their secrets, baffled him as long as they could, referring him from one college to another, and prescribing to him the most rigorous preparatives, not excluding the rite of circumcision. [57] But Pythagoras endured and underwent every thing, till at length their unwillingness was conquered, and his perseverance received its suitable reward. When in the end Pythagoras thought himself fully qualified for the task he had all along had in view, he was no less strict in prescribing ample preliminaries to his own scholars. At the time that a pupil was proposed to him, the master, we are told, examined him with multiplied questions as to his principles, his habits and intentions, observed minutely his voice and manner of speaking, his walk and his gestures, the lines of his countenance, and the expression and management of his eye, and, when he was satisfied with these, then and not till then admitted him as a probationer. [58] It is to be supposed that all this must have been personal. As soon however as this was over, the master was withdrawn from the sight of the pupil; and a noviciate of three and five, in all eight years, [59] was prescribed to the scholar, during which time he was only to hear his instructor from behind a curtain, and the strictest silence was enjoined him through the whole period. As the instructions Pythagoras received in Egypt and the East admitted of no dispute, so in his turn he required an unreserved submission from those who heard him: autos iphae "the master has said it," was deemed a sufficient solution to all doubt and uncertainty. [60] To give the greater authority and effect to his communications Pythagoras hid himself during the day at least from the great body of his pupils, and was only seen by them at night. Indeed there is no reason to suppose that any one was admitted into his entire familiarity. When he came forth, he appeared in a long garment of the purest white, with a flowing beard, and a garland upon his head. He is said to have been of the finest symmetrical form, with a majestic carriage, and a grave and awful countenance. [61] He suffered his followers to believe that he was one of the Gods, the Hyperborean Apollo, [62] and is said to have told Abaris that he assumed the human form, that he might the better invite men to an easiness of approach and to confidence in him. [63] What however seems to be agreed in by all his biographers, is that he professed to have already in different ages appeared in the likeness of man: first as Aethalides, the son of Mercury; and, when his father expressed himself ready to invest him with any gift short of immortality, he prayed that, as the human soul is destined successively to dwell in various forms, he might have the privilege in each to remember his former state of being, which was granted him. From, Aethalides he became Euphorbus, who slew Patroclus at the siege of Troy. He then appeared as Hermotimus, then Pyrrhus, a fisherman of Delos, and finally Pythagoras. He said that a period of time was interposed between each transmigration, during which he visited the seat of departed souls; and he professed to relate a part of the wonders he had seen. [64] He is said to have eaten sparingly and in secret, and in all respects to have given himself out for a being not subject to the ordinary laws of nature. [65] Pythagoras therefore pretended to miraculous endowments. Happening to be on the sea-shore when certain fishermen drew to land an enormous multitude of fishes, he desired them to allow him to dispose of the capture, which they consented to, provided he would name the precise number they had caught. He did so, and required that they should throw their prize into the sea again, at the same time paying them the value of the fish. [66] He tamed a Daunian bear by whispering in his ear, and prevailed on him henceforth to refrain from the flesh of animals, and to feed on vegetables. By the same means he induced an ox not to eat beans, which was a diet specially prohibited by Pythagoras; and he called down an eagle from his flight, causing him to sit on his hand, and submit to be stroked down by the philosopher. [67] In Greece, when he passed the river Nessus in Macedon, the stream was heard to salute him with the words "Hail, Pythagoras!" [68] When Abaris addressed him as one of the heavenly host, he took the stranger aside, and convinced him that he was under no mistake, by exhibiting to him his thigh of gold: or, according to another account, he used the same sort of evidence at a certain time, to satisfy his pupils of his celestial descent. [69] He is said to have been seen on the same day at Metapontum in Italy, and at Taurominium in Sicily, though these places are divided by the sea, so that it was conceived that it would cost several days to pass from one to the other. [70] In one instance he absented himself from his associates in Italy for a whole year; and when he appeared again, related that he had passed that time in the infernal regions, describing likewise the marvellous things he had seen. [71] Diogenes Laertius, speaking of this circumstance affirms however that he remained during this period in a cave, where his mother conveyed to him intelligence and necessaries, and that, when he came once more into light and air, he appeared so emaciated and colourless, that he might well be believed to have come out of Hades. The close of the life of Pythagoras was, according to every statement, in the midst of misfortune and violence. Some particulars are related by Iamblichus, [72] which, though he is not an authority beyond all exception, are so characteristic as seem to entitle them to the being transcribed. This author is more circumstantial than any other in stating the elaborate steps by which the pupils of Pythagoras came to be finally admitted into the full confidence of the master. He says, that they passed three years in the first place in a state of probation, carefully watched by their seniors, and exposed to their occasional taunts and ironies, by way of experiment to ascertain whether they were of a temper sufficiently philosophical and firm. At the expiration of that period they were admitted to a noviciate, in which they were bound to uninterrupted silence, and heard the lectures of the master, while he was himself concealed from their view by a curtain. They were then received to initiation, and required to deliver over their property to the common stock. They were admitted to intercourse with the master. They were invited to a participation of the most obscure theories, and the abstrusest problems. If however in this stage of their progress they were discovered to be too weak of intellectual penetration, or any other fundamental objection were established against them, they were expelled the community; the double of the property they had contributed to the common stock was paid down to them; a head-stone and a monument inscribed with their names were set up in the place of meeting of the community; they were considered as dead; and, if afterwards they met by chance any of those who were of the privileged few, they were treated by them as entirely strangers. Cylon, the richest man, or, as he is in one place styled, the prince, of Crotona, had manifested the greatest partiality to Pythagoras. He was at the same time a man of rude, impatient and boisterous character. He, together with Perialus of Thurium, submitted to all the severities of the Pythagorean school. They passed the three years of probation, and the five years of silence. They were received into the familiarity of the master. They were then initiated, and delivered all their wealth into the common stock. They were however ultimately pronounced deficient in intellectual power, or for some other reason were not judged worthy to continue among the confidential pupils of Pythagoras. They were expelled. The double of the property they had contributed was paid back to them. A monument was set up in memory of what they had been; and they were pronounced dead to the school. It will easily be conceived in what temper Cylon sustained this degradation. Of Perialus we hear nothing further. But Cylon, from feelings of the deepest reverence and awe for Pythagoras, which he had cherished for years, was filled even to bursting with inextinguishable hatred and revenge. The unparalleled merits, the venerable age of the master whom he had so long followed, had no power to control his violence. His paramount influence in the city insured him the command of a great body of followers. He excited them to a frame of turbulence and riot. He represented to them how intolerable was the despotism of this pretended philosopher. They surrounded the school in which the pupils were accustomed to assemble, and set it on fire. Forty persons perished in the flames. [73] According to some accounts Pythagoras was absent at the time. According to others he and two of his pupils escaped. He retired from Crotona to Metapontum. But the hostility which had broken out in the former city, followed him there. He took refuge in the Temple of the Muses. But he was held so closely besieged that no provisions could be conveyed to him; and he finally perished with hunger, after, according to Laertius, forty days' abstinence. [74] It is difficult to imagine any thing more instructive, and more pregnant with matter for salutary reflection, than the contrast presented to us by the character and system of action of Pythagoras on the one hand, and those of the great enquirers of the last two centuries, for example, Bacon, Newton and Locke, on the other. Pythagoras probably does not yield to any one of these in the evidences of true intellectual greatness. In his school, in the followers he trained resembling himself, and in the salutary effects he produced on the institutions of the various republics of Magna Graecia and Sicily, he must be allowed greatly to have excelled them. His discoveries of various propositions in geometry, of the earth as a planet, and of the solar system as now universally recognised, clearly stamp him a genius of the highest order. Yet this man, thus enlightened and philanthropical, established his system of proceeding upon narrow and exclusive principles, and conducted it by methods of artifice, quackery and delusion. One of his leading maxims was, that the great and fundamental truths to the establishment of which he devoted himself, were studiously to be concealed from the vulgar, and only to be imparted to a select few, and after years of the severest noviciate and trial. He learned his earliest lessons of wisdom in Egypt after this method, and he conformed through life to the example which had thus been delivered to him. The severe examination that he made of the candidates previously to their being admitted into his school, and the years of silence that were then prescribed to them, testify this. He instructed them by symbols, obscure and enigmatical propositions, which they were first to exercise their ingenuity to expound. The authority and dogmatical assertions of the master were to remain unquestioned; and the pupils were to fashion themselves to obsequious and implicit submission, and were the furthest in the world from being encouraged to the independent exercise of their own understandings. There was nothing that Pythagoras was more fixed to discountenance, than the communication of the truths upon which he placed the highest value, to the uninitiated. It is not probable therefore that he wrote any thing: all was communicated orally, by such gradations, and with such discretion, as he might think fit to adopt and to exercise. Delusion and falsehood were main features of his instruction. With what respect therefore can we consider, and what manliness worthy of his high character and endowments can we impute to, his discourses delivered from behind a curtain, his hiding himself during the day, and only appearing by night in a garb assumed for the purpose of exciting awe and veneration? What shall we say to the story of his various transmigrations? At first sight it appears in the light of the most audacious and unblushing imposition. And, if we were to yield so far as to admit that by a high-wrought enthusiasm, by a long train of maceration and visionary reveries, he succeeded in imposing on himself, this, though in a different way, would scarcely less detract from the high stage of eminence upon which the nobler parts of his character would induce us to place him. Such were some of the main causes that have made his efforts perishable, and the lustre which should have attended his genius in a great degree transitory and fugitive. He was probably much under the influence of a contemptible jealousy, and must be considered as desirous that none of his contemporaries or followers should eclipse their master. All was oracular and dogmatic in the school of Pythagoras. He prized and justly prized the greatness of his attainments and discoveries, and had no conception that any thing could go beyond them. He did not encourage, nay, he resolutely opposed, all true independence of mind, and that undaunted spirit of enterprise which is the atmosphere in which the sublimest thoughts are most naturally generated. He therefore did not throw open the gates of science and wisdom, and invite every comer; but on the contrary narrowed the entrance, and carefully reduced the number of aspirants. He thought not of the most likely methods to give strength and permanence and an extensive sphere to the progress of the human mind. For these reasons he wrote nothing; but consigned all to the frail and uncertain custody of tradition. And distant posterity has amply avenged itself upon the narrowness of his policy; and the name of Pythagoras, which would otherwise have been ranked with the first luminaries of mankind, and consigned to everlasting gratitude, has in consequence of a few radical and fatal mistakes, been often loaded with obloquy, and the hero who bore it been indiscriminately classed among the votaries of imposture and artifice. EPIMENIDES. Epimenides has been mentioned among the disciples of Pythagoras; but he probably lived at an earlier period. He was a native of Crete. The first extraordinary circumstance that is recorded of him is, that, being very young, he was sent by his father in search of a stray sheep, when, being overcome by the heat of the weather, he retired into a cave, and slept fifty-seven years. Supposing that he had slept only a few hours, he repaired first to his father's country-house, which he found in possession of a new tenant, and then to the city, where he encountered his younger brother, now grown an old man, who with difficulty was brought to acknowledge him. [75] It was probably this circumstance that originally brought Epimenides into repute as a prophet, and a favourite of the Gods. Epimenides appears to have been one of those persons, who make it their whole study to delude their fellow-men, and to obtain for themselves the reputation of possessing supernatural gifts. Such persons, almost universally, and particularly in ages of ignorance and wonder, become themselves the dupes of their own pretensions. He gave out that he was secretly subsisted by food brought to him by the nymphs; and he is said to have taken nourishment in so small quantities, as to be exempted from the ordinary necessities of nature. [76] He boasted that he could send his soul out of his body, and recal it, when he pleased; and alternately appeared an inanimate corpse, and then again his life would return to him, and he appear capable of every human function as before. [77] He is said to have practised the ceremony of exorcising houses and fields, and thus rendering them fruitful and blessed. [78] He frequently uttered prophecies of events with such forms of ceremony and such sagacious judgment, that they seemed to come to pass as he predicted. One of the most memorable acts of his life happened in this manner. Cylon, the head of one of the principal families in Athens, set on foot a rebellion against the government, and surprised the citadel. His power however was of short duration. Siege was laid to the place, and Cylon found his safety in flight. His partisans forsook their arms, and took refuge at the altars. Seduced from this security by fallacious promises, they were brought to judgment and all of them put to death. The Gods were said to be offended with this violation of the sanctions of religion, and sent a plague upon the city. All things were in confusion, and sadness possessed the whole community. Prodigies were perpetually seen; the spectres of the dead walked the streets; and terror universally prevailed. The sacrifices offered to the gods exhibited the most unfavourable symptoms. [79] In this emergency the Athenian senate resolved to send for Epimenides to come to their relief. His reputation was great. He was held for a holy and devout man, and wise in celestial things by inspiration from above. A vessel was fitted out under the command of one of the first citizens of the state to fetch Epimenides from Crete. He performed various rites and purifications. He took a certain number of sheep, black and white, and led them to the Areopagus, where he caused them to be let loose to go wherever they would. He directed certain persons to follow them, and mark the place where they lay down. He enquired to what particular deity the spot was consecrated, and sacrificed the sheep to that deity; and in the result of these ceremonies the plague was stayed. According to others he put an end to the plague by the sacrifice of two human victims. The Athenian senate, full of gratitude to their benefactor, tendered him the gift of a talent. But Epimenides refused all compensation, and only required, as an acknowledgment of what he had done, that there should be perpetual peace between the Athenians and the people of Gnossus, his native city. [80] He is said to have died shortly after his return to his country, being of the age of one hundred and fifty-seven years. [81] EMPEDOCLES. Empedocles has also been mentioned as a disciple of Pythagoras. But he probably lived too late for that to have been the case. His principles were in a great degree similar to those of that illustrious personage; and he might have studied under one of the immediate successors of Pythagoras. He was a citizen of Agrigentum in Sicily; and, having inherited considerable wealth, exercised great authority in his native place. [82] He was a distinguished orator and poet. He was greatly conversant in the study of nature, and was eminent for his skill in medicine. [83] In addition to these accomplishments, he appears to have been a devoted adherent to the principles of liberty. He effected the dissolution of the ruling council of Agrigentum, and substituted in their room a triennial magistracy, by means of which the public authority became not solely in the hands of the rich as before, but was shared by them with expert and intelligent men of an inferior class. [84] He opposed all arbitrary exercises of rule. He gave dowries from his own stores to many young maidens of impoverished families, and settled them in eligible marriages. [85] He performed many cures upon his fellow-citizens; and is especially celebrated for having restored a woman to life, who had been apparently dead, according to one account for seven days, but according to others for thirty. [86] But the most memorable things known of Empedocles, are contained in the fragments of his verses that have been preserved to us. In one of them he says of himself, "I well remember the time before I was Empedocles, that I once was a boy, then a girl, a plant, a glittering fish, a bird that cut the air." [87] Addressing those who resorted to him for improvement and wisdom, he says, "By my instructions you shall learn medicines that are powerful to cure disease, and re-animate old age; you shall be able to calm the savage winds which lay waste the labours of the husbandman, and, when you will, shall send forth the tempest again; you shall cause the skies to be fair and serene, or once more shall draw down refreshing showers, re-animating the fruits of the earth; nay, you shall recal the strength of the dead man, when he has already become the victim of Pluto." [88] Further, speaking of himself, Empedocles exclaims: "Friends, who inhabit the great city laved by the yellow Acragas, all hail! I mix with you a God, no longer a mortal, and am every where honoured by you, as is just; crowned with fillets, and fragrant garlands, adorned with which when I visit populous cities, I am revered by both men and women, who follow me by ten thousands, enquiring the road to boundless wealth, seeking the gift of prophecy, and who would learn the marvellous skill to cure all kinds of diseases." [89] The best known account of the death of Empedocles may reasonably be considered as fabulous. From what has been said it sufficiently appears, that he was a man of extraordinary intellectual endowments, and the most philanthropical dispositions; at the same time that he was immoderately vain, aspiring by every means in his power to acquire to himself a deathless remembrance. Working on these hints, a story has been invented that he aspired to a miraculous way of disappearing from among men; and for this purpose repaired, when alone, to the top of Mount Aetna, then in a state of eruption, and threw himself down the burning crater: but it is added, that in the result of this perverse ambition he was baffled, the volcano having thrown up one of his brazen sandals, by means of which the mode of his death became known. [90] ARISTEAS. Herodotus tells a marvellous story of one Aristeas, a poet of Proconnesus, an island of the Propontis. This man, coming by chance into a fuller's workshop in his native place, suddenly fell down dead. As the man was of considerable rank, the fuller immediately, quitting and locking up his shop, proceeded to inform his family of what had happened. The relations went accordingly, having procured what was requisite to give the deceased the rites of sepulture, to the shop; but, when it was opened, they could discover no vestige of Aristeas, either dead or alive. A traveller however from the neighbouring town of Cyzicus on the continent, protested that he had just left that place, and, as he set foot in the wherry which had brought him over, had met Aristeas, and held a particular conversation with him. Seven years after, Aristeas reappeared at Proconnesus, resided there a considerable time, and during this abode wrote his poem of the wars of the one-eyed Arimaspians and the Gryphons. He then again disappeared in an unaccountable manner. But, what is more than all extraordinary, three hundred and forty years after this disappearance, he shewed himself again at Metapontum, in Magna Graecia, and commanded the citizens to erect a statue in his honour near the temple of Apollo in the forum; which being done, he raised himself in the air; and flew away in the form of a crow. [91] HERMOTIMUS. Hermotimus, or, as Plutarch names him, Hermodorus of Clazomene, is said to have possessed, like Epimenides, the marvellous power of quitting his body, and returning to it again, as often, and for as long a time as he pleased. In these absences his unembodied spirit would visit what places he thought proper, observe every thing that was going on, and, when he returned to his fleshy tabernacle, make a minute relation of what he had seen. Hermotimus had enemies, who, one time when his body had lain unanimated unusually long, beguiled his wife, made her believe that he was certainly dead, and that it was disrespectful and indecent to keep him so long in that state. The woman therefore placed her husband on the funeral pyre, and consumed him to ashes; so that, continues the philosopher, when the soul of Hermotimus came back again, it no longer found its customary receptacle to retire into. [92] Certainly this kind of treatment appeared to furnish an infallible criterion, whether the seeming absences of the soul of this miraculous man were pretended or real. THE MOTHER OF DEMARATUS, KING OF SPARTA. Herodotus [93] tells a story of the mother of Demaratus, king of Sparta, which bears a striking resemblance to the fairy tales of modern times. This lady, afterward queen of Sparta, was sprung from opulent parents, but, when she was born, was so extravagantly ugly, that her parents hid her from all human observation. According to the mode of the times however, they sent the babe daily in its nurse's arms to the shrine of Helen, now metamorphosed into a Goddess, to pray that the child might be delivered from its present preternatural deformity. On these occasions the child was shrouded in many coverings, that it might escape being seen. One day as the nurse came out of the temple, a strange woman met her, and asked her what she carried so carefully concealed. The nurse said it was a female child, but of opulent parents, and she was strictly enjoined that it should be seen by no one. The stranger was importunate, and by dint of perseverance overcame the nurse's reluctance. The woman took the babe in her arms, stroked down its hair, kissed it, and then returning it to the nurse, said that it should grow up the most perfect beauty in Sparta. So accordingly it proved: and the king of the country, having seen her, became so enamoured of her, that, though he already had a wife, and she a husband, he overcame all obstacles, and made her his queen. ORACLES. One of the most extraordinary things to be met with in the history of ancient times is the oracles. They maintained their reputation for many successive centuries. The most famous perhaps were that of Delphi in Greece, and that of Jupiter Ammon in the deserts of Lybia. But they were scattered through many cities, many plains, and many islands. They were consulted by the foolish and the wise; and scarcely anything considerable was undertaken, especially about the time of the Persian invasion into Greece, without the parties having first had recourse to these; and they in most cases modified the conduct of princes and armies accordingly. To render the delusion more successful, every kind of artifice was put in practice. The oracle could only be consulted on fixed days; and the persons who resorted to it, prefaced their application with costly offerings to the presiding God. Their questions passed through the hands of certain priests, residing in and about the temple. These priests received the embassy with all due solemnity, and retired. A priestess, or Pythia, who was seldom or never seen by any of the profane vulgar, was the immediate vehicle of communication with the God. She was cut off from all intercourse with the world, and was carefully trained by the attendant priests. Spending almost the whole of her time in solitude, and taught to consider her office as ineffably sacred, she saw visions, and was for the most part in a state of great excitement. The Pythia, at least of the Delphian God, was led on with much ceremony to the performance of her office, and placed upon the sacred tripod. The tripod, we are told, stood over a chasm in the rock, from which issued fumes of an inebriating quality. The Pythia became gradually penetrated through every limb with these fumes, till her bosom swelled, her features enlarged, her mouth foamed, her voice seemed supernatural, and she uttered words that could sometimes scarcely be called articulate. She could with difficulty contain herself, and seemed to be possessed, and wholly overpowered, with the God. After a prelude of many unintelligible sounds, uttered with fervour and a sort of frenzy, she became by degrees more distinct. She uttered incoherent sentences, with breaks and pauses, that were filled up with preternatural efforts and distorted gestures; while the priests stood by, carefully recording her words, and then reducing them into a sort of obscure signification. They finally digested them for the most part into a species of hexameter verse. We may suppose the supplicants during this ceremony placed at a proper distance, so as to observe these things imperfectly, while the less they understood, they were ordinarily the more impressed with religious awe, and prepared implicitly to receive what was communicated to them. Sometimes the priestess found herself in a frame, not entirely equal to her function, and refused for the present to proceed with the ceremony. The priests of the oracle doubtless conducted them in a certain degree like the gipsies and fortune-tellers of modern times, cunningly procuring to themselves intelligence in whatever way they could, and ingeniously worming out the secrets of their suitors, at the same time contriving that their drift should least of all be suspected. But their main resource probably was in the obscurity, almost amounting to unintelligibleness, of their responses. Their prophecies in most cases required the comment of the event to make them understood; and it not seldom happened, that the meaning in the sequel was found to be the diametrically opposite of that which the pious votaries had originally conceived. In the mean time the obscurity of the oracles was of inexpressible service to the cause of superstition. If the event turned out to be such as could in no way be twisted to come within the scope of the response, the pious suitor only concluded that the failure was owing to the grossness and carnality of his own apprehension, and not to any deficiency in the institution. Thus the oracle by no means lost credit, even when its meaning remained for ever in its original obscurity. But, when, by any fortunate chance, its predictions seemed to be verified, then the unerringness of the oracle was lauded from nation to nation; and the omniscience of the God was admitted with astonishment and adoration. It would be a vulgar and absurd mistake however, to suppose that all this was merely the affair of craft, the multitude only being the dupes, while the priests in cold blood carried on the deception, and secretly laughed at the juggle they were palming on the world. They felt their own importance; and they cherished it. They felt that they were regarded by their countrymen as something more than human; and the opinion entertained of them by the world around them, did not fail to excite a responsive sentiment in their own bosoms. If their contemporaries willingly ascribed to them an exclusive sacredness, by how much stronger an impulse were they led fully to receive so flattering a suggestion! Their minds were in a perpetual state of exaltation; and they believed themselves specially favoured by the God whose temple constituted their residence. A small matter is found sufficient to place a creed which flatters all the passions of its votaries, on the most indubitable basis. Modern philosophers think that by their doctrine of gases they can explain all the appearances of the Pythia; but the ancients, to whom this doctrine was unknown, admitted these appearances as the undoubted evidence of an interposition from heaven. It is certainly a matter of the extremest difficulty, for us in imagination to place ourselves in the situation of those who believed in the ancient polytheistical creed. And yet these believers nearly constituted the whole of the population of the kingdoms of antiquity. Even those who professed to have shaken off the prejudices of their education, and to rise above the absurdities of paganism, had still some of the old leaven adhering to them. One of the last acts of the life of Socrates, was to order the sacrifice of a cock to be made to Aesculapius. Now the creed of paganism is said to have made up to the number of thirty thousand deities. Every kingdom, every city, every street, nay, in a manner every house, had its protecting God. These Gods were rivals to each other; and were each jealous of his own particular province, and watchful against the intrusion of any neighbour deity upon ground where he had a superior right. The province of each of these deities was of small extent; and therefore their watchfulness and jealousy of their appropriate honours do not enter into the slightest comparison with the Providence of the God who directs the concerns of the universe. They had ample leisure to employ in vindicating their prerogatives. Prophecy was of all means the plainest and most obvious for each deity to assert his existence, and to inforce the reverence and submission of his votaries. Prophecy was that species of interference which was least liable to the being confuted and exposed. The oracles, as we have said, were delivered in terms and phrases that were nearly unintelligible. If therefore they met with no intelligible fulfilment, this lost them nothing; and, if it gained them no additional credit, neither did it expose them to any disgrace. Whereas every example, where the obscure prediction seemed to tally with, and be illustrated by any subsequent event, was hailed with wonder and applause, confirmed the faith of the true believers, and was held forth as a victorious confutation of the doubts of the infidel. INVASION OF XERXES INTO GREECE. It is particularly suitable in this place to notice the events which took place at Delphi upon occasion of the memorable invasion of Xerxes into Greece. This was indeed a critical moment for the heathen mythology. The Persians were pointed and express in their hostility against the altars and the temples of the Greeks. It was no sooner known that the straits of Thermopylae had been forced, than the priests consulted the God, as to whether they should bury the treasures of the temple, so to secure them against the sacrilege of the invader. The answer of the oracle was: "Let nothing be moved; the God is sufficient for the protection of his rights." The inhabitants therefore of the neighbourhood withdrew: only sixty men and the priest remained. The Persians in the mean time approached. Previously to this however, the sacred arms which were placed in the temple, were seen to be moved by invisible hands, and deposited on the declivity which was on the outside of the building. The invaders no sooner shewed themselves, than a miraculous storm of thunder and lightning rebounded and flashed among the multiplied hills which surrounded the sacred area, and struck terror into all hearts. Two vast fragments were detached from the top of mount Parnassus, and crushed hundreds in their fall. A voice of warlike acclamation issued from within the walls. Dismay seized the Persian troops. The Delphians then, rushing from their caverns, and descending from the summits, attacked them with great slaughter. Two persons, exceeding all human stature, and that were said to be the demigods whose fanes were erected near the temple of Apollo, joined in the pursuit, and extended the slaughter. [94] It has been said that the situation of the place was particularly adapted to this mode of defence. Surrounded and almost overhung with lofty mountain-summits, the area of the city was inclosed within crags and precipices. No way led to it but through defiles, narrow and steep, shadowed with wood, and commanded at every step by fastnesses from above. In such a position artificial fires and explosion might imitate a thunder storm. Great pains had been taken, to represent the place as altogether abandoned; and therefore the detachment of rocks from the top of mount Parnassus, though effected by human hands, might appear altogether supernatural. Nothing can more forcibly illustrate the strength of the religious feeling among the Greeks, than the language of the Athenian government at the time of the second descent of the Persian armament upon their territory, when they were again compelled to abandon their houses and land to the invader. Mardonius said to them: "I am thus commissioned by the king of Persia, he will release and give back to you your country; he invites you to choose a further territory, whatever you may think desirable, which he will guarantee to you to govern as you shall judge fit. He will rebuild for you, without its costing you either money or labour, the temples which in his former incursion he destroyed with fire. It is in vain for you to oppose him by force, for his armies are innumerable." To which the Athenians replied, "As long as the sun pursues his course in the heavens, so long will we resist the Persian invader." Then turning to the Spartan ambassadors who were sent to encourage and animate them to persist, they added, "It is but natural that your employers should apprehend that we might give way and be discouraged. But there is no sum of money so vast, and no region so inviting and fertile, that could buy us to concur in the enslaving of Greece. Many and resistless are the causes which induce us to this resolve. First and chiefest, the temples and images of the Gods, which Xerxes has burned and laid in ruins, and which we are called upon to avenge to the utmost, instead of forming a league with him who made this devastation. Secondly, the consideration of the Grecian race, the same with us in blood and in speech, the same in religion and manners, and whose cause we will never betray. Know therefore now, if you knew not before, that, as long as a single Athenian survives, we will never swerve from the hostility to Persia to which we have devoted ourselves." Contemplating this magnanimous resolution, it is in vain for us to reflect on the absurdity, incongruity and frivolousness, as we apprehend it, of the pagan worship, inasmuch as we find, whatever we may think of its demerits, that the most heroic people that ever existed on earth, in the hour of their direst calamity, regarded a zealous and fervent adherence to that religion as the most sacred of all duties. [95] DEMOCRITUS. The fame of Democritus has sustained a singular fortune. He is represented by Pliny as one of the most superstitious of mortals. This character is founded on certain books which appeared in his name. In these books he is made to say, that, if the blood of certain birds be mingled together, the combination will produce a serpent, of which whoever eats will become endowed with the gift of understanding the language of birds. [96] He attributes a multitude of virtues to the limbs of a dead camelion: among others that, if the left foot of this animal be grilled, and there be added certain herbs, and a particular unctuous preparation, it will have the quality to render the person who carries it about him invisible. [97] But all this is wholly irreconcileable with the known character of Democritus, who distinguished himself by the hypothesis that the world was framed from the fortuitous concourse of atoms, and that the soul died with the body. And accordingly Lucian, [98] a more judicious author than Pliny, expressly cites Democritus as the strenuous opposer of all the pretenders to miracles. "Such juggling tricks," he says, "call for a Democritus, an Epicurus, a Metrodorus, or some one of that temper, who should endeavour to detect the illusion, and would hold it for certain, even if he could not fully lay open the deceit, that the whole was a lying pretence, and had not a spark of reality in it." Democritus was in reality one of the most disinterested characters on record in the pursuit of truth. He has been styled the father of experimental philosophy. When his father died, and the estate came to be divided between him and two brothers, he chose the part which was in money, though the smallest, that he might indulge him [Errata: _read_ himself] in travelling in pursuit of knowledge. He visited Egypt and Persia, and turned aside into Ethiopia and India. He is reported to have said, that he had rather be the possessor of one of the cardinal secrets of nature, than of the diadem of Persia. SOCRATES. Socrates is the most eminent of the ancient philosophers. He lived in the most enlightened age of Greece, and in Athens, the most illustrious of her cities. He was born in the middle ranks of life, the son of a sculptor. He was of a mean countenance, with a snub nose, projecting eyes, and otherwise of an appearance so unpromising, that a physiognomist, his contemporary, pronounced him to be given to the grossest vices. But he was of a penetrating understanding, the simplest manners, and a mind wholly bent on the study of moral excellence. He at once abjured all the lofty pretensions, and the dark and recondite pursuits of the most applauded teachers of his time, and led those to whom he addressed his instructions from obvious and irresistible data to the most unexpected and useful conclusions. There was something in his manner of teaching that drew to him the noblest youth of Athens. Plato and Xenophon, two of the most admirable of the Greek writers, were among his pupils. He reconciled in his own person in a surprising degree poverty with the loftiest principles of independence. He taught an unreserved submission to the laws of our country. He several times unequivocally displayed his valour in the field of battle, while at the same time he kept aloof from public offices and trusts. The serenity of his mind never forsook him. He was at all times ready to teach, and never found it difficult to detach himself from his own concerns, to attend to the wants and wishes of others. He was uniformly courteous and unpretending; and, if at any time he indulged in a vein of playful ridicule, it was only against the presumptuously ignorant, and those who were without foundation wise in their own conceit. Yet, with all these advantages and perfections, the name of Socrates would not have been handed down with such lustre to posterity but for the manner of his death. He made himself many enemies. The plainness of his manner and the simplicity of his instructions were inexpressibly wounding to those (and they were many), who, setting up for professors, had hitherto endeavoured to dazzle their hearers by the loftiness of their claims, and to command from them implicit submission by the arrogance with which they dictated. It must be surprising to us, that a man like Socrates should be arraigned in a country like Athens upon a capital accusation. He was charged with instilling into the youth a disobedience to their duties, and propagating impiety to the Gods, faults of which he was notoriously innocent. But the plot against him was deeply laid, and is said to have been twenty years in the concoction. And he greatly assisted the machinations of his adversaries, by the wonderful firmness of his conduct upon his trial, and his spirited resolution not to submit to any thing indirect and pusillanimous. He defended himself with a serene countenance and the most cogent arguments, but would not stoop to deprecation and intreaty. When sentence was pronounced against him, this did not induce the least alteration of his conduct. He did not think that a life which he had passed for seventy years with a clear conscience, was worth preserving by the sacrifice of honour. He refused to escape from prison, when one of his rich friends had already purchased of the jailor the means of his freedom. And, during the last days of his life, and when he was waiting the signal of death, which was to be the return of a ship that had been sent with sacrifices to Delos, he uttered those admirable discourses, which have been recorded by Xenophon and Plato to the latest posterity. But the question which introduces his name into this volume, is that of what is called the demon of Socrates. He said that he repeatedly received a divine premonition of dangers impending over himself and others; and considerable pains have been taken to ascertain the cause and author of these premonitions. Several persons, among whom we may include Plato, have conceived that Socrates regarded himself as attended by a supernatural guardian who at all times watched over his welfare and concerns. But the solution is probably of a simpler nature. Socrates, with all his incomparable excellencies and perfections, was not exempt from the superstitions of his age and country. He had been bred up among the absurdities of polytheism. In them were included, as we have seen, a profound deference for the responses of oracles, and a vigilant attention to portents and omens. Socrates appears to have been exceedingly regardful of omens. Plato tells us that this intimation, which he spoke of as his demon, never prompted him to any act, but occasionally interfered to prevent him or his friends from proceeding in any thing that would have been attended with injurious consequences. [99] Sometimes he described it as a voice, which no one however heard but himself; and sometimes it shewed itself in the act of sneezing. If the sneezing came, when he was in doubt to do a thing or not to do it, it confirmed him; but if, being already engaged in any act, he sneezed, this he considered as a warning to desist. If any of his friends sneezed on his right hand, he interpreted this as a favourable omen; but, if on his left, he immediately relinquished his purpose. [100] Socrates vindicated his mode of expressing himself on the subject, by saying that others, when they spoke of omens, for example, by the voice of a bird, said the bird told me this, but that he, knowing that the omen was purely instrumental to a higher power, deemed it more religious and respectful to have regard only to the higher power, and to say that God had graciously warned him. [101] One of the examples of this presage was, that, going along a narrow street with several companions in earnest discourse, he suddenly stopped, and turned another way, warning his friends to do the same. Some yielded to him, and others went on, who were encountered by the rushing forward of a multitude of hogs, and did not escape without considerable inconvenience and injury. [102] In another instance one of a company among whom was Socrates, had confederated to commit an act of assassination. Accordingly he rose to quit the place, saying to Socrates, "I will be back presently." Socrates, unaware of his purpose, but having received the intimation of his demon, said to him earnestly, "Go not." The conspirator sat down. Again however he rose, and again Socrates stopped him. At length he escaped, without the observation of the philosopher, and committed the act, for which he was afterwards brought to trial. When led to execution, he exclaimed, "This would never have happened to me, if I had yielded to the intimation of Socrates." [103] In the same manner, and by a similar suggestion, the philosopher predicted the miscarriage of the Athenian expedition to Sicily under Nicias, which terminated with such signal disaster. [104] This feature in the character of Socrates is remarkable, and may shew the prevalence of superstitious observances, even in persons whom we might think the most likely to be exempt from this weakness. ROME. VIRGIL. From the Greeks let us turn to the Romans. The earliest examples to our purpose occur in the Aeneid. And, though Virgil is a poet, yet is he so correct a writer, that we may well take for granted, that he either records facts which had been handed down by tradition, or that, when he feigns, he feigns things strikingly in accord with the manners and belief of the age of which he speaks. POLYDORUS. One of the first passages that occur, is of the ghost of the deceased Polydorus on the coast of Thrace. Polydorus, the son of Priam, was murdered by the king of that country, his host, for the sake of the treasures he had brought with him from Troy. He was struck through with darts made of the wood of the myrtle. The body was cast into a pit, and earth thrown upon it. The stems of myrtle grew and flourished. Aeneas, after the burning of Troy, first attempted a settlement in this place. Near the spot where he landed he found a hillock thickly set with myrtle. He attempted to gather some, thinking it might form a suitable screen to an altar which he had just raised. To his astonishment and horror he found the branches he had plucked, dropping with blood. He tried the experiment again and again. At length a voice from the mound was heard, exclaiming, "Spare me! I am Polydorus;" and warning him to fly the blood-stained and treacherous shore. DIDO. We have a more detailed tale of necromancy, when Dido, deserted by Aeneas, resolves on self-destruction. To delude her sister as to her secret purpose, she sends for a priestess from the gardens of the Hesperides, pretending that her object is by magical incantations again to relumine the passion of love in the breast of Aeneas. This priestess is endowed with the power, by potent verse to free the oppressed soul from care, and by similar means to agitate the bosom with passion which is free from its empire. She can arrest the headlong stream, and cause the stars to return back in their orbits. She can call up the ghosts of the dead. She is able to compel the solid earth to rock, and the trees of the forest to descend from their mountains. To give effect to the infernal spell, Dido commands that a funeral pyre shall be set up in the interior court of her palace, and that the arms of Aeneas, what remained of his attire, and the marriage bed in which Dido had received him, shall be heaped upon it. The pyre is hung round with garlands, and adorned with branches of cypress. The sword of Aeneas and his picture are added. Altars are placed round the pyre; and the priestess, with dishevelled hair, calls with terrific charms upon her three hundred Gods, upon Erebus, chaos, and the three-faced Hecate. She sprinkles around the waters of Avernus, and adds certain herbs that had been cropped by moonlight with a sickle of brass. She brings with her the excrescence which is found upon the forehead of a new-cast foal, of the size of a dried fig, and which unless first eaten by the mare, the mother never admits her young to the nourishment of her milk. After these preparations, Dido, with garments tucked up, and with one foot bare, approached the altars, breaking over them a consecrated cake, and embracing them successively in her arms. The pyre was then to be set on fire; and, as the different objects placed upon it were gradually consumed, the charm became complete, and the ends proposed to the ceremony were expected to follow. Dido assures her sister, that she well knew the unlawfulness of her proceeding, and protests that nothing but irresistible necessity should have compelled her to have recourse to these unhallowed arts. She finally stabs herself, and expires. ROMULUS. The early history of Rome is, as might be expected, interspersed with prodigies. Romulus himself, the founder, after a prosperous reign of many years, disappeared at last by a miracle. The king assembled his army to a general review, when suddenly, in the midst of the ceremony, a tempest arose, with vivid lightnings and tremendous crashes of thunder. Romulus became enveloped in a cloud, and, when, shortly after, a clear sky and serene heavens succeeded, the king was no more seen, and the throne upon which he had sat appeared vacant. The people were somewhat dissatisfied with the event, and appear to have suspected foul play. But the next day Julius Proculus, a senator of the highest character, shewed himself in the general assembly, and assured them, that, with the first dawn of the morning, Romulus had stood before him, and certified to him that the Gods had taken him up to their celestial abodes, authorising him withal to declare to his citizens, that their arms should be for ever successful against all their enemies. [105] NUMA. Numa was the second king of Rome: and, the object of Romulus having been to render his people soldiers and invincible in war, Numa, an old man and a philosopher, made it his purpose to civilise them, and deeply to imbue them with sentiments of religion. He appears to have imagined the thing best calculated to accomplish this purpose, was to lead them by prodigies and the persuasion of an intercourse with the invisible world. A shield fell from heaven in his time, which he caused to be carefully kept and consecrated to the Gods; and he conceived no means so likely to be effectual to this end, as to make eleven other shields exactly like the one which had descended by miracle, so that, if an accident happened to any one, the Romans might believe that the one given to them by the divinity was still in their possession.[106] Numa gave to his people civil statutes, and a code of observances in matters of religion; and these also were inforced with a divine sanction. Numa met the goddess Egeria from time to time in a cave; and by her was instructed in the institutions he should give to the Romans: and this barbarous people, awed by the venerable appearance of their king, by the sanctity of his manners, and still more by the divine favour which was so signally imparted to him, received his mandates with exemplary reverence, and ever after implicitly conformed themselves to all that he had suggested. [107] TULLUS HOSTILIUS. Tullus Hostilius, the third king of Rome, restored again the policy of Romulus. In his time, Alba, the parent state, was subdued and united to its more flourishing colony. In the mean time Tullus, who during the greater part of his reign had been distinguished by martial achievements, in the latter part became the victim of superstitions. A shower of stones fell from heaven, in the manner, as Livy tells us, of a hail-storm. A plague speedily succeeded to this prodigy. [108] Tullus, awed by these events, gave his whole attention to the rites of religion. Among other things he found in the sacred books of Numa an account of a certain ceremony, by which, if rightly performed, the appearance of a God, named Jupiter Elicius, would be conjured up. But Tullus, who had spent his best days in the ensanguined field, proved inadequate to this new undertaking. Some defects having occurred in his performance of the magical ceremony, not only no God appeared at his bidding, but, the anger of heaven being awakened, a thunderbolt fell on the palace, and the king, and the place of his abode were consumed together. [109] ACCIUS NAVIUS. In the reign of Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth king of Rome, another famous prodigy is recorded. The king had resolved to increase the number of the Roman cavalry. Romulus had raised the first body with the customary ceremony of augury. Tarquinius proposed to proceed in the present case, omitting this ceremony. Accius Navius, the chief augur, protested against the innovation. Tarquin, in contempt of his interference, addressed Accius, saying, "Come, augur, consult your birds, and tell me, whether the thing I have now in my mind can be done, or cannot be done." Accius proceeded according to the rules of his art, and told the king it could be done. "What I was thinking of," replied Tarquinius, "was whether you could cut this whetstone in two with this razor." Accius immediately took the one instrument and the other, and performed the prodigy in the face of the assembled people. [110] SERVIUS TULLIUS. Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome, was the model of a disinterested and liberal politician, and gave to his subjects those institutions to which, more than to any other cause, they were indebted for their subsequent greatness. Tarquinius subjected nearly the whole people of Latium to his rule, capturing one town of this district after another. In Corniculum, one of these places, Servius Tullius, being in extreme youth, was made a prisoner of war, and subsequently dwelt as a slave in the king's palace. One day as he lay asleep in the sight of many, his head was observed to be on fire. The bystanders, terrified at the spectacle, hastened to bring water that they might extinguish the flames. The queen forbade their assiduity, regarding the event as a token from the Gods. By and by the boy awoke of his own accord, and the flames at the same instant disappeared. The queen, impressed with the prodigy, became persuaded that the youth was reserved for high fortunes, and directed that he should be instructed accordingly in all liberal knowledge. In due time he was married to the daughter of Tarquinius, and was destined in all men's minds to succeed in the throne, which took place in the sequel. [111] In the year of Rome two hundred and ninety one, forty-seven years after the expulsion of Tarquin, a dreadful plague broke out in the city, and carried off both the consuls, the augurs, and a vast multitude of the people. The following year was distinguished by numerous prodigies; fires were seen in the heavens, and the earth shook, spectres appeared, and supernatural voices were heard, an ox spoke, and a shower of raw flesh fell in the fields. Most of these prodigies were not preternatural; the speaking ox was probably received on the report of a single hearer; and the whole was invested with exaggerated terror by means of the desolation of the preceding year. [112] THE SORCERESS OF VIRGIL. Prodigies are plentifully distributed through the earlier parts of the Roman history; but it is not our purpose to enter into a chronological detail on the subject. And in reality those already given, except in the instance of Tullus Hostilius, do not entirely fall within the scope of the present volume. The Roman poets, Virgil, Horace, Ovid and Lucan, give a fuller insight than the Latin prose-writers, into the conceptions of their countrymen upon the subject of incantations and magic. The eighth eclogue of Virgil, entitled Pharmaceutria, is particularly to our purpose in this point. There is an Idyll of Theocritus under the same name; but it is of an obscurer character; and the enchantress is not, like that of Virgil, triumphant in the success of her arts. The sorceress is introduced by Virgil, giving direction to her female attendant as to the due administration of her charms. Her object is to recal Daphnis, whom she styles her husband, to his former love for her. At the same time, she says, she will endeavour by magic to turn him away from his wholesome sense. She directs her attendant to burn vervain and frankincense; and she ascribes the highest efficacy to the solemn chant, which, she says, can call down the moon from its sphere, can make the cold-blooded snake burst in the field, and was the means by which Circe turned the companions of Ulysses into beasts. She orders his image to be thrice bound round with fillets of three colours, and then that it be paraded about a prepared altar, while in binding the knots the attendant shall still say, "Thus do I bind the fillets of Venus." One image of clay and one of wax are placed before the same fire; and as the image of clay hardens, so does the heart of Daphnis harden towards his new mistress; and as the image of wax softens, so is the heart of Daphnis made tender towards the sorceress. She commands a consecrated cake to be broken over the image, and crackling laurels to be burned before it, that as Daphnis had tormented her by his infidelity, so he in his turn may be agitated with a returning constancy. She prays that as the wanton heifer pursues the steer through woods and glens, till at length, worn out with fatigue, she lies down on the oozy reeds by the banks of the stream, and the night-dew is unable to induce her to withdraw, so Daphnis may be led on after her for ever with inextinguishable love. She buries the relics of what had belonged to Daphnis beneath her threshold. She bruises poisonous herbs of resistless virtue which had been gathered in the kingdom of Pontus, herbs, which enabled him who gave them to turn himself into a hungry wolf prowling amidst the forests, to call up ghosts from the grave, and to translate the ripened harvest from the field where it grew to the lands of another. She orders her attendant to bring out to the face of heaven the ashes of these herbs, and [Errata: _dele_ and] to cast them over her head into the running stream, and at the same time taking care not to look behind her. After all her efforts the sorceress begins to despair. She says, "Daphnis heeds not my incantations, heeds not the Gods." She looks again; she perceives the ashes on the altar emit sparkles of fire; she hears her faithful house-dog bark before the door; she says, "Can these things be; or do lovers dream what they desire? It is not so! The real Daphnis comes; I hear his steps; he has left the deluding town; he hastens to my longing arms!" CANIDIA. In the works of Horace occurs a frightful and repulsive, but a curious detail of a scene of incantation. [113] Four sorceresses are represented as assembled, Canidia, the principal, to perform, the other three to assist in, the concoction of a charm, by means of which a certain youth, named Varus, for whom Canidia had conceived a passion, but who regards the hag with the utmost contempt, may be made obsequious to her desires. Canidia appears first, the locks of her dishevelled hair twined round with venomous and deadly serpents, ordering the wild fig-tree and the funereal cypress to be rooted up from the sepulchres on which they grew, and these, together with the egg of a toad smeared with blood, the plumage of the screech-owl, various herbs brought from Thessaly and Georgia, and bones torn from the jaws of a famished dog, to be burned in flames fed with perfumes from Colchis. Of the assistant witches, one traces with hurried steps the edifice, sprinkling it, as she goes, with drops from the Avernus, her hair on her head stiff and erect, like the quills of the sea-hedge-hog, or the bristles of a hunted boar; and another, who is believed by all the neighbourhood to have the faculty of conjuring the stars and the moon down from heaven, contributes her aid. But, which is most horrible, the last of the assistant witches is seen, armed with a spade, and, with earnest and incessant labour, throwing up earth, that she may dig a trench, in which is to be plunged up to his chin a beardless youth, stripped of his purple robe, the emblem of his noble descent, and naked, that, from his marrow already dry and his liver (when at length his eye-balls, long fixed on the still renovated food which is withheld from his famished jaws, have no more the power to discern), may be concocted the love-potion, from which these hags promise themselves the most marvellous results. Horace presents before us the helpless victim of their malice, already inclosed in the fatal trench, first viewing their orgies with affright, asking, by the Gods who rule the earth and all the race of mortals, what means the tumult around him? He then intreats Canidia, by her children if ever she had offspring, by the visible evidences of his high rank, and by the never-failing vengeance of Jupiter upon such misdeeds, to say why she casts on him glances, befitting the fury of a stepmother, or suited to a beast already made desperate by the wounds of the hunter. At length, no longer exhausting himself in fruitless intreaties, the victim has recourse in his agonies to curses on his executioners. He says, his ghost shall haunt them for ever, for no vengeance can expiate such cruelty. He will tear their cheeks with his fangs, for that power is given to the shades below. He will sit, a night-mare, on their bosoms, driving away sleep from their eyes; while the enraged populace shall pursue them with stones, and the wolves shall gnaw and howl over their unburied members. The unhappy youth winds up all with the remark, that his parents who will survive him, shall themselves witness this requital of the sorceresses' infernal deeds. Canidia, unmoved by these menaces and execrations, complains of the slow progress of her charms. She gnaws her fingers with rage. She invokes the night and the moon, beneath whose rays these preparations are carried on, now, while the wild beasts lie asleep in the forests, and while the dogs alone bay the superanuated letcher, who relies singly on the rich scents with which he is perfumed for success, to speed her incantations, and signalise their power beneath the roof of him whose love she seeks. She impatiently demands why her drugs should be of less avail than those of Medea, with which she poisoned a garment, that, once put on, caused Creusa, daughter of the king of Corinth, to expire in intolerable torments? She discovers that Varus had hitherto baffled her power by means of some magical antidote; and she resolves to prepare a mightier charm, that nothing from earth or hell shall resist. "Sooner," she says, "shall the sky be swallowed up in the sea, and the earth be stretched a covering over both, than thou, my enemy, shalt not be wrapped in the flames of love, as subtle and tenacious as those of burning pitch." It is not a little curious to remark the operation of the antagonist principles of superstition and scepticism among the Romans in this enlightened period, as it comes illustrated to us in the compositions of Horace on this subject. In the piece, the contents of which have just been given, things are painted in all the solemnity and terror which is characteristic of the darkest ages. But, a few pages further on, we find the poet in a mock Palinodia deprecating the vengeance of the sorceress, who, he says, has already sufficiently punished him by turning through her charms his flaxen hair to hoary white, and overwhelming him by day and night with ceaseless anxieties. He feels himself through her powerful magic tortured, like Hercules in the envenomed shirt of Nessus, or as if he were cast down into the flames of Aetna; nor does he hope that she will cease compounding a thousand deadly ingredients against him, till his very ashes shall have been scattered by the resistless winds. He offers therefore to expiate his offence at her pleasure either by a sacrifice of an hundred oxen, or by a lying ode, in which her chastity and spotless manners shall be applauded to the skies. What Ovid gives is only a new version of the charms and philtres of Medea. [114] ERICHTHO. Lucan, in his Pharsalia, [115] takes occasion, immediately before the battle which was to decide the fate of the Roman world, to introduce Sextus, the younger son of Pompey, as impatient to enquire, even by the most sacrilegious means, into the important events which are immediately impending. He is encouraged in the attempt by the reflection, that the soil upon which they are now standing, Thessaly, had been notorious for ages as the noxious and unwholesome seat of sorcery and witchcraft. The poet therefore embraces this occasion to expatiate on the various modes in which this detested art was considered as displaying itself. And, however he may have been ambitious to seize this opportunity to display the wealth of his imagination, the whole does not fail to be curious, as an exhibition of the system of magical power so far as the matter in hand is concerned. The soil of Thessaly, says the poet, is in the utmost degree fertile in poisonous herbs, and her rocks confess the power of the sepulchral song of the magician. There a vegetation springs up of virtue to compel the Gods; and Colchis itself imports from Thessaly treasures of this sort which she cannot boast as her own. The chaunt of the Thessalian witch penetrates the furthest seat of the Gods, and contains words so powerful, that not the care of the skies, or of the revolving spheres, can avail as an excuse to the deities to decline its force. Babylon and Memphis yield to the superior might; and the Gods of foreign climes fly to fulfil the dread behests of the magician. Prompted by Thessalian song, love glides into the hardest hearts; and even the severity of age is taught to burn with youthful fires. The ingredients of the poisoned cup, nor the excrescence found on the forehead of the new-cast foal, can rival in efficacy the witching incantation. The soul is melted by its single force. The heart which not all the attractions of the genial bed could fire, nor the influence of the most beautiful form, the wheel of the sorceress shall force from its bent. But the effects are perhaps still more marvellous that are produced on inanimate and unintellectual nature. The eternal succession of the world is suspended; day delays to rise on the earth; the skies no longer obey their ruler. Nature becomes still at the incantation: and Jove, accustomed to guide the machine, is astonished to find the poles disobedient to his impulse. Now the sorceress deluges the plains with rain, hides the face of heaven with murky clouds, and the thunders roll, unbidden by the thunderer. Anon she shakes her hair, and the darkness is dispersed, and the whole horizon is cleared. At one time the sea rages, urged by no storm; and at another is smooth as glass, in defiance of the tempestuous North. The breath of the enchanter carries along the bark in the teeth of the wind; the headlong torrent is suspended, and rivers run back to their source. The Nile overflows not in the summer; the crooked Meander shapes to itself a direct course; the sluggish Arar gives new swiftness to the rapid Rhone; and the mountains bow their heads to their foundations. Clouds shroud the peaks of the cloudless Olympus; and the Scythian snows dissolve, unurged by the sun. The sea, though impelled by the tempestuous constellations, is counteracted by witchcraft, and no longer beats along the shore. Earthquakes shake the solid globe; and the affrighted inhabitants behold both hemispheres at once. The animals most dreaded for their fury, and whose rage is mortal, become tame; the hungry tiger and the lordly lion fawn at the sorceress's feet; the snake untwines all her folds amidst the snow; the viper, divided by wounds, unites again its severed parts; and the envenomed serpent pines and dies under the power of a breath more fatal than his own. What, exclaims the poet, is the nature of the compulsion thus exercised on the Gods, this obedience to song and to potent herbs, this fear to disobey and scorn the enchanter? Do they yield from necessity, or is it a voluntary subjection? Is it the piety of these hags that obtains the reward, or by menaces do they secure their purpose? Are all the Gods subject to this control, or, is there one God upon whom it has power, who, himself compelled, compels the elements? The stars fall from heaven at their command. The silver moon yields to their execrations, and burns with a smouldering flame, even as when the earth comes between her and the sun, and by its shadow intercepts its rays; thus is the moon brought lower and more low, till she covers with her froth the herbs destined to receive her malignant influence. But Erichtho, the witch of the poet, flouts all these arts, as too poor and timid for her purposes. She never allows a roof to cover her horrid head, or confesses the influence of the Houshold Gods. She inhabits the deserted tomb, and dwells in a grave from which the ghost of the dead has been previously expelled. She knows the Stygian abodes, and the counsels of the infernals. Her countenance is lean; and her complexion overspread with deadly paleness. Her hair is neglected and matted. But when clouds and tempests obscure the stars, then she comes forth, and defies the midnight lightning. Wherever she treads, the fruits of the earth become withered, and the wholesome air is poisoned with her breath. She offers no prayers, and pours forth no supplications; she has recourse to no divination. She delights to profane the sacred altar with a funereal flame, and pollutes the incense with a torch from the pyre. The Gods yield at once to her voice, nor dare to provoke her to a second mandate. She incloses the living man within the confines of the grave; she subjects to sudden death those who were destined to a protracted age; and she brings back to life the corses of the dead. She snatches the smoaking cinders, and the bones whitened with flame, from the midst of the pile, and wrests the torch from the hand of the mourning parent. She seizes the fragments of the burning shroud, and the embers yet moistened with blood. But, where the sad remains are already hearsed in marble, it is there that she most delights to exercise her sacrilegious power. She tears the limbs of the dead, and digs out their eyes. She gnaws their fingers. She separates with her teeth the rope on the gibbet, and tears away the murderer from the cross on which he hung suspended. She applies to her purposes the entrails withered with the wind, and the marrow that had been dried by the sun. She bears away the nails which had pierced the hands and feet of the criminal, the clotted blood which had distilled from his wounds, and the sinews that had held him suspended. She pounces upon the body of the dead in the battle-field, anticipating the vulture and the beast of prey; but she does not divide the limbs with a knife, nor tear them asunder with her hands: she watches the approach of the wolf, that she may wrench the morsels from his hungry jaws. Nor does the thought of murder deter her, if her rites require the living blood, first spurting from the lacerated throat. She drags forth the foetus from its pregnant mother, by a passage which violence has opened. Wherever there is occasion for a bolder and more remorseless ghost, with her own hand she dismisses him from life; man at every period of existence furnishes her with materials. She drags away the first down from the cheek of the stripling, and with her left hand cuts the favourite lock from the head of the young man. Often she watches with seemingly pious care the dying hours of a relative, and seizes the occasion to bite his lips, to compress his windpipe, and whisper in his expiring organ some message to the infernal shades. Sextus, guided by the general fame of this woman, sought her in her haunts. He chose his time, in the depth of the night, when the sun is at its lowermost distance from the upper sky. He took his way through the desert fields. He took for companions the associates, the accustomed ministers of his crimes. Wandering among broken graves and crumbling sepulchres, they discovered her, sitting sublime on a ragged rock, where mount Haemus stretches its roots to the Pharsalic field. She was mumbling charms of the Magi and the magical Gods. For she feared that the war might yet be transferred to other than the Emathian fields. The sorceress was busy therefore enchanting the soil of Philippi, and scattering on its surface the juice of potent herbs, that it might be heaped with carcasses of the dead, and saturated with their blood, that Macedon, and not Italy, might receive the bodies of departed kings and the bones of the noble, and might be amply peopled with the shades of men. Her choicest labour was as to the earth where should be deposited the prostrate Pompey, or the limbs of the mighty Caesar. Sextus approached, and bespoke her thus: "Oh, glory of Haemonia, that hast the power to divulge the fates of men, or canst turn aside fate itself from its prescribed course, I pray thee to exercise thy gift in disclosing events to come. Not the meanest of the Roman race am I, the offspring of an illustrious chieftain, lord of the world in the one case, or in the other the destined heir to my father's calamity. I stand on a tremendous and giddy height: snatch me from this posture of doubt; let me not blindly rush on, and blindly fall; extort this secret from the Gods, or force the dead to confess what they know." To whom the Thessalian crone replied: "If you asked to change the fate of an individual, though it were to restore an old man, decrepid with age, to vigorous youth, I could comply; but to break the eternal chain of causes and consequences exceeds even our power. You seek however only a foreknowledge of events to come, and you shall be gratified. Meanwhile it were best, where slaughter has afforded so ample a field, to select the body of one newly deceased, and whose flexible organs shall be yet capable of speech, not with lineaments already hardened in the sun." Saying thus, Erichtho proceeded (having first with her art made the night itself more dark, and involved her head in a pitchy cloud), to explore the field, and examine one by one the bodies of the unburied dead. As she approached, the wolves fled before her, and the birds of prey, unwillingly sheathing their talons, abandoned their repast, while the Thessalian witch, searching into the vital parts of the frames before her, at length fixed on one whose lungs were uninjured, and whose organs of speech had sustained no wound. The fate of many hung in doubt, till she had made her selection. Had the revival of whole armies been her will, armies would have stood up obedient to her bidding. She passed a hook beneath the jaw of the selected one, and, fastening it to a cord, dragged him along over rocks and stones, till she reached a cave, overhung by a projecting ridge. A gloomy fissure in the ground was there, of a depth almost reaching to the Infernal Gods, where the yew-tree spread thick its horizontal branches, at all times excluding the light of the sun. Fearful and withering shade was there, and noisome slime cherished by the livelong night. The air was heavy and flagging as that of the Taenarian promontory; and hither the God of hell permits his ghosts to extend their wanderings. It is doubtful whether the sorceress called up the dead to attend her here, or herself descended to the abodes of Pluto. She put on a fearful and variegated robe; she covered her face with her dishevelled hair, and bound her brow with a wreath of vipers. Meanwhile she observed Sextus afraid, with his eyes fixed on the ground, and his companions trembling; and thus she reproached them. "Lay aside," she said, "your vainly-conceived terrors! You shall behold only a living and a human figure, whose accents you may listen to with perfect security. If this alarms you, what would you say, if you should have seen the Stygian lakes, and the shores burning with sulphur unconsumed, if the furies stood before you, and Cerberus with his mane of vipers, and the giants chained in eternal adamant? Yet all these you might have witnessed unharmed; for all these would quail at the terror of my brow." She spoke, and next plied the dead body with her arts. She supples his wounds, and infuses fresh blood into his veins: she frees his scars from the clotted gore, and penetrates them with froth from the moon. She mixes whatever nature has engendered in its most fearful caprices, foam from the jaws of a mad dog, the entrails of the lynx, the backbone of the hyena, and the marrow of a stag that had dieted on serpents, the sinews of the remora, and the eyes of a dragon, the eggs of the eagle, the flying serpent of Arabia, the viper that guards the pearl in the Red Sea, the slough of the hooded snake, and the ashes that remain when the phoenix has been consumed. To these she adds all venom that has a name, the foliage of herbs over which she has sung her charms, and on which she had voided her rheum as they grew. At length she chaunts her incantation to the Stygian Gods, in a voice compounded of all discords, and altogether alien to human organs. It resembles at once the barking of a dog, and the howl of a wolf; it consists of the hooting of the screech-owl, the yelling of a ravenous wild beast, and the fearful hiss of a serpent. It borrows somewhat from the roar of tempestuous waves, the hollow rushing of the winds among the branches of the forest, and the tremendous crash of deafening thunder. "Ye furies," she cries, "and dreadful Styx, ye sufferings of the damned, and Chaos, for ever eager to destroy the fair harmony of worlds, and thou, Pluto, condemned to an eternity of ungrateful existence, Hell, and Elysium, of which no Thessalian witch shall partake, Proserpine, for ever cut off from thy health-giving mother, and horrid Hecate, Cerebrus [Errata: _read_ Cerberus] curst with incessant hunger, ye Destinies, and Charon endlessly murmuring at the task I impose of bringing back the dead again to the land of the living, hear me!--if I call on you with a voice sufficiently impious and abominable, if I have never sung this chaunt, unsated with human gore, if I have frequently laid on your altars the fruit of the pregnant mother, bathing its contents with the reeking brain, if I have placed on a dish before you the head and entrails of an infant on the point to be born-- "I ask not of you a ghost, already a tenant of the Tartarean abodes, and long familiarised to the shades below, but one who has recently quitted the light of day, and who yet hovers over the mouth of hell: let him hear these incantations, and immediately after descend to his destined place! Let him articulate suitable omens to the son of his general, having so late been himself a soldier of the great Pompey! Do this, as you love the very sound and rumour of a civil war!" Saying this, behold, the ghost of the dead man stood erect before her, trembling at the view of his own unanimated limbs, and loth to enter again the confines of his wonted prison. He shrinks to invest himself with the gored bosom, and the fibres from which death had separated him. Unhappy wretch, to whom death had not given the privilege to die! Erichtho, impatient at the unlooked for delay, lashes the unmoving corpse with one of her serpents. She calls anew on the powers of hell, and threatens to pronounce the dreadful name, which cannot be articulated without consequences never to be thought of, nor without the direst necessity to be ventured upon. At length the congealed blood becomes liquid and warm; it oozes from the wounds, and creeps steadily along the veins and the members; the fibres are called into action beneath the gelid breast, and the nerves once more become instinct with life. Life and death are there at once. The arteries beat; the muscles are braced; the body raises itself, not by degrees, but at a single impulse, and stands erect. The eyelids unclose. The countenance is not that of a living subject, but of the dead. The paleness of the complexion, the rigidity of the lines, remain; and he looks about with an unmeaning stare, but utters no sound. He waits on the potent enchantress. "Speak!" said she; "and ample shall be your reward. You shall not again be subject to the art of the magician. I will commit your members to such a sepulchre; I will burn your form with such wood, and will chaunt such a charm over your funeral pyre, that all incantations shall thereafter assail you in vain. Be it enough, that you have once been brought back to life! Tripods, and the voice of oracles deal in ambiguous responses; but the voice of the dead is perspicuous and certain to him who receives it with an unshrinking spirit. Spare not! Give names to things; give places a clear designation; speak with a full and articulate voice." Saying this, she added a further spell, qualified to give to him who was to answer, a distinct knowledge of that respecting which he was about to be consulted. He accordingly delivers the responses demanded of him; and, that done, earnestly requires of the witch to be dismissed. Herbs and magic rites are necessary, that the corpse may be again unanimated, and the spirit never more be liable to be recalled to the realms of day. The sorceress constructs the funeral pile; the dead man places himself thereon; Erichtho applies the torch; and the charm is for ever at an end. Lucan in this passage is infinitely too precise, and exhausts his muse in a number of particulars, where he had better have been more succinct and select. He displays the prolific exuberance of a young poet, who had not yet taught himself the multiplied advantages of compression. He had not learned the principle, _Relinquere quae desperat tractata nitescere posse_. [116] But, as this is the fullest enumeration of the forms of witchcraft that occurs in the writers of antiquity, it seemed proper to give it to the reader entire. SERTORIUS. The story of Sertorius and his hind, which occurred about thirty years before, may not be improperly introduced here. It is told by Plutarch in the spirit of a philosopher, and as a mere deception played by that general, to render the barbarous people of Spain more devoted to his service. But we must suppose that it had, at least for the time, the full effect of something preternatural. Sertorius was one of the most highly gifted and well balanced characters that is to be found in Roman story. He considered with the soundest discernment the nature of the persons among whom he was to act, and conducted himself accordingly. The story in Plutarch is this. "So soone as Sertorius arriued from Africa, he straight leauied men of warre, and with them subdued the people of Spaine fronting upon his marches, of which the more part did willingly submit themselves, upon the bruit that ran of him to be mercifull and courteous, and a valiant man besides in present danger, Furthermore, he lacked no fine deuises and subtilties to win their goodwils: as among others, the policy, and deuise of the hind. There was a poore man of the countrey called Spanus, who meeting by chance one day with a hind in his way that had newly calved, flying from the hunters, he let the damme go, not being able to take her; and running after her calfe tooke it, which was a young hind, and of a strange haire, for she was all milk-white. It chanced so, that Sertorius was at that time in those parts. So, this poore man presented Sertorius with his young hind, which he gladly receiued, and which with time he made so tame, that she would come to him when he called her, and follow him where-euer he went, being nothing the wilder for the daily sight of such a number of armed souldiers together as they were, nor yet afraid of the noise and tumult of the campe. Insomuch as Sertorius by little and little made it a miracle, making the simple barbarous people beleeue that it was a gift that Diana had sent him, by the which she made him understand of many and sundrie things to come: knowing well inough of himselfe, that the barbarous people were men easily deceiued, and quickly caught by any subtill superstition, besides that by art also he brought them to beleeue it as a thing verie true. For when he had any secret intelligence giuen him, that the enemies would inuade some part of the countries and prouinces subject vnto him, or that they had taken any of his forts from him by any intelligence or sudden attempt, he straight told them that his hind spake to him as he slept, and had warned him both to arme his men, and put himselfe in strength. In like manner if he had heard any newes that one of his lieutenants had wonne a battell, or that he had any aduantage of his enemies, he would hide the messenger, and bring his hind abroad with a garland and coller of nosegayes: and then say, it was a token of some good newes comming towards him, perswading them withall to be of good cheare; and so did sacrifice to the Gods, to giue them thankes for the good tidings he should heare before it were long. Thus by putting this superstition into their heades, he made them the more tractable and obedient to his will, in so much as they thought they were not now gouerned any more by a stranger wiser than themselues, but were steadfastly perswaded that they were rather led by some certaine God."-- "Now was Sertorius very heauie, that no man could tell him what was become of his white hind: for thereby all his subtilltie and finenesse to keepe the barbarous people in obedience was taken away, and then specially when they stood in need of most comfort. But by good hap, certaine of his souldiers that had lost themselves in the night, met with the hind in their way, and knowing her by her colour, tooke her and brought her backe againe. Sertorius hearing of her, promised them a good reward, so that they would tell no liuing creature that they brought her againe, and thereupon made her to be secretly kept. Then within a few dayes after, he came abroad among them, and with a pleasant countenance told the noble men and chiefe captaines of these barbarous people, how the Gods had reuealed it to him in his dreame, that he should shortly have a maruellous good thing happen to him: and with these words sate downe in his chaire to give audience. Whereupon they that kept the hind not farre from thence, did secretly let her go. The hind being loose, when she had spied Sertorius, ranne straight to his chaire with great joy, and put her head betwixt his legges, and layed her mouth in his right hand, as she before was wont to do. Sertorius also made very much of her, and of purpose appeared maruellous glad, shewing such tender affection to the hind, as it seemed the water stood in his eyes for joy. The barbarous people that stood there by and beheld the same, at the first were much amazed therewith, but afterwards when they had better bethought themselues, for ioy they clapped their hands together, and waited upon Sertorius to his lodging with great and ioyfull shouts, saying, and steadfastly beleeuing, that he he was a heavenly creature, and beloued of the Gods." [117] CASTING OUT DEVILS. We are now brought down to the era of the Christian religion; and there is repeated mention of sorcery in the books of the New Testament. One of the most frequent miracles recorded of Jesus Christ is called the "casting out devils." The Pharisees in the Evangelist, for the purpose of depreciating this evidence of his divine mission, are recorded to have said, "this fellow doth not cast out devils, but by Beelzebub, the prince of devils." Jesus, among other remarks in refutation of this opprobrium, rejoins upon them, "If I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your children cast them out?" [118] Here then we have a plain insinuation of sorcery from the lips of Christ himself, at the same time that he appears to admit that his adversaries produced supernatural achievements similar to his own. SIMON MAGUS. But the most remarkable passage in the New Testament on the subject of sorcery, is one which describes the proceedings of Simon Magus, as follows. "Then Philip went down to the city of Samaria, and preached Christ unto them. But there was a certain man, called Simon, which before time in the same city used sorcery, and bewitched the people of Samaria, giving out that himself was some great one. To whom they all gave heed, from the least to the greatest, saying, This man is the great power of God. And to him they had regard, because that of long time he had bewitched them with sorceries. But, when they believed Philip, preaching the things concerning the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized both men and women. Then Simon himself believed also. And, when he was baptized, he continued with Philip, and wondered, beholding the miracles and signs which were done. "Now, when the apostles which were at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent unto them Peter and John. Who, when they were come down, prayed for them, that they might receive the Holy Ghost. For as yet he was fallen upon none of them: only they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. Then laid they their hands on them, and they received the Holy Ghost. "And, when Simon saw that, through the laying on of the apostles' hands, the Holy Ghost was given, he offered them money, saying, Give me also this power, that on whomsoever I lay hands he may receive the Holy Ghost. But Peter said unto him, Thy money perish with thee! because thou hast thought that the gift of God might be purchased with money. Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter: for thy heart is not right in the sight of God. Repent therefore of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if perhaps the thought of thy heart may be forgiven thee: for I perceive that thou art in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity. Then answered Simon, and said, Pray ye to the Lord for me, that none of these things which ye have spoken come upon me." [119] This passage of the New Testament leaves us in considerable uncertainty as to the nature of the sorceries, by which "of a long time Simon had bewitched the people of Samaria." But the fathers of the church, Clemens Romanus and Anastasius Sinaita, have presented us with a detail of the wonders he actually performed. When and to whom he pleased he made himself invisible; he created a man out of air; he passed through rocks and mountains without encountering an obstacle; he threw himself from a precipice uninjured; he flew along in the air; he flung himself in the fire without being burned. Bolts and chains were impotent to detain him. He animated statues, so that they appeared to every beholder to be men and women; he made all the furniture of the house and the table to change places as required, without a visible mover; he metamorphosed his countenance and visage into that of another person; he could make himself into a sheep, or a goat, or a serpent; he walked through the streets attended with a multitude of strange figures, which he affirmed to be the souls of the departed; he made trees and branches of trees suddenly to spring up where he pleased; he set up and deposed kings at will; he caused a sickle to go into a field of corn, which unassisted would mow twice as fast as the most industrious reaper. [120] Thus endowed, it is difficult to imagine what he thought he would have gained by purchasing from the apostles their gift of working miracles. But Clemens Romanus informs us that he complained that, in his sorceries, he was obliged to employ tedious ceremonies and incantations; whereas the apostles appeared to effect their wonders without difficulty and effort, by barely speaking a word. [121] ELYMAS, THE SORCERER. But Simon Magus is not the only magician spoken of in the New Testament. When the apostle Paul came to Paphos in the isle of Cyprus, he found the Roman governor divided in his preference between Paul and Elymas, the sorcerer, who before the governor withstood Paul to his face. Then Paul, prompted by his indignation, said, "Oh, full of all subtlety and mischief, child of the devil, enemy of all righteousness, wilt thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord? And now, behold, the hand of the Lord is upon thee, and thou shalt be blind, not seeing the sun for a season." What wonders Elymas effected to deceive the Roman governor we are not told: but "immediately there fell on him a mist and a darkness; and he went about, seeking some to lead him by the hand." [122] In another instance we find certain vagabond Jews, exorcists, who pretended to cast out devils from the possessed. But they came to the apostle, and "confessed, and shewed their deeds. Many of them also which used curious arts, brought their books together, and burned them before all. And they counted the price of them, and found it fifty thousand pieces of silver." [123] It is easy to see however on which side the victory lay. The apostles by their devotion and the integrity of their proceedings triumphed; while those whose only motive was selfishness, the applause of the vulgar, or the admiration of the superficial, gained the honours of a day, and were then swept away into the gulf of general oblivion. NERO. The arts of the magician are said to have been called into action by Nero upon occasion of the assassination of his mother, Agrippina. He was visited with occasional fits of the deepest remorse in the recollection of his enormity. Notwithstanding all the ostentatious applauses and congratulations which he obtained from the senate, the army and the people, he complained that he was perpetually haunted with the ghost of his mother, and pursued by the furies with flaming torches and whips. He therefore caused himself to be attended by magicians, who employed their arts to conjure up the shade of Agrippina, and to endeavour to obtain her forgiveness for the crime perpetrated by her son. [124] We are not informed of the success of their evocations. VESPASIAN. In the reign of Vespasian we meet with a remarkable record of supernatural power, though it does not strictly fall under the head of magic. It is related by both Tacitus and Suetonius. Vespasian having taken up his abode for some months at Alexandria, a blind man, of the common people, came to him, earnestly intreating the emperor to assist in curing his infirmity, alleging that he was prompted to apply by the admonition of the God Serapis, and importuning the prince to anoint his cheeks and the balls of his eyes with the royal spittle. Vespasian at first treated the supplication with disdain; but at length, moved by the fervour of the petitioner, inforced as it was by the flattery of his courtiers, the emperor began to think that every thing would give way to his prosperous fortune, and yielded to the poor man's desire. With a confident carriage therefore, the multitude of those who stood by being full of expectation, he did as he was requested, and the desired success immediately followed. Another supplicant appeared at the same time, who had lost the use of his hands, and intreated Vespasian to touch the diseased members with his foot; and he also was cured.[125] Hume has remarked that many circumstances contribute to give authenticity to this miracle, "if," as he says, "any evidence could avail to establish so palpable a falsehood. The gravity, solidity, age and probity of so great an emperor, who, through the whole course of his life, conversed in a familiar manner with his friends and courtiers, and never affected any airs of divinity: the historian, a contemporary writer, noted for candour and veracity, and perhaps the greatest and most penetrating genius of all antiquity: and lastly, the persons from whose authority he related the miracle, who we may presume to have been of established character for judgment and honour; eye-witnesses of the fact, and confirming their testimony, as Tacitus goes on to say, after the Flavian family ceased to be in power, and could no longer give any reward as the price of a lie." [126] APOLLONIUS OF TYANA. Apollonius of Tyana in Asia Minor was born nearly at the same time as Jesus Christ, and acquired great reputation while he lived, and for a considerable time after. He was born of wealthy parents, and seems early to have betrayed a passion for philosophy. His father, perceiving this, placed him at fourteen years of age under Euthydemus, a rhetorician of Tarsus; but the youth speedily became dissatisfied with the indolence and luxury of the citizens, and removed himself to Aegas, a neighbouring town, where was a temple of Aesculapius, and where the God was supposed sometimes to appear in person. Here he became professedly a disciple of the sect of Pythagoras. He refrained from animal food, and subsisted entirely on fruits and herbs. He went barefoot, and wore no article of clothing made from the skins of animals. [127] He further imposed on himself a noviciate of five years silence. At the death of his father, he divided his patrimony equally with his brother; and, that brother having wasted his estate by prodigality, he again made an equal division with him of what remained. [128] He travelled to Babylon and Susa in pursuit of knowledge, and even among the Brachmans of India, and appears particularly to have addicted himself to the study of magic. [129] He was of a beautiful countenance and a commanding figure, and, by means of these things, combined with great knowledge, a composed and striking carriage, and much natural eloquence, appears to have won universal favour wherever he went. He is said to have professed the understanding of all languages without learning them, to read the thoughts of men, and to be able to interpret the language of animals. A power of working miracles attended him in all places. [130] On one occasion he announced to the people of Ephesus the approach of a terrible pestilence; but the citizens paid no attention to his prophecy. The calamity however having overtaken them, they sent to Apollonius who was then at Smyrna, to implore his assistance. He obeyed the summons. Having assembled the inhabitants, there was seen among them a poor, old and decrepid beggar, clothed in rags, hideous of visage, and with a peculiarly fearful and tremendous expression in his eyes. Apollonius called out to the Ephesians, "This is an enemy to the Gods; turn all your animosity against him, and stone him to death!" The old man in the most piteous tones besought their mercy. The citizens were shocked with the inhumanity of the prophet. Some however of the more thoughtless flung a few stones, without any determined purpose. The old man, who had stood hitherto crouching, and with his eyes half-closed, now erected his figure, and cast on the crowd glances, fearful, and indeed diabolical. The Ephesians understood at once that this was the genius of the plague. They showered upon him stones without mercy, so as not only to cover him, but to produce a considerable mound where he had stood. After a time Apollonius commanded them to take away the stones, that they might discover what sort of an enemy they had destroyed. Instead of a man they now saw an enormous black dog, of the size of a lion, and whose mouth and jaws were covered with a thick envenomed froth. [131] Another miracle was performed by Apollonius in favour of a young man, named Menippus of Corinth, five and twenty years of age, for whom the prophet entertained a singular favour. This man conceived himself to be beloved by a rich and beautiful woman, who made advances to him, and to whom he was on the point of being contracted in marriage. Apollonius warned his young friend against the match in an enigmatical way, telling him that he nursed a serpent in his bosom. This however did not deter Menippus. All things were prepared; and the wedding table was spread. Apollonius meanwhile came among them, and prevented the calamity. He told the young man that the dishes before him, the wine he was drinking, the vessels of gold and silver that appeared around him, and the very guests themselves were unreal and illusory; and to prove his words, he caused them immediately to vanish. The bride alone was refractory. She prayed the philosopher not to torment her, and not to compel her to confess what she was. He was however inexorable. She at length owned that she was an empuse (a sort of vampire), and that she had determined to cherish and pamper Menippus, that she might in the conclusion eat his flesh, and lap up his blood. [132] One of the miracles of Apollonius consisted in raising the dead. A young woman of beautiful person was laid out upon a bier, and was in the act of being conveyed to the tomb. She was followed by a multitude of friends, weeping and lamenting, and among others by a young man, to whom she had been on the point to be married. Apollonius met the procession, and commanded those who bore it, to set down the bier. He exhorted the proposed bridegroom to dry up his tears. He enquired the name of the deceased, and, saluting her accordingly, took hold of her hand, and murmured over her certain mystical words. At this act the maiden raised herself on her seat, and presently returned home, whole and sound, to the house of her father. [133] Towards the end of his life Apollonius was accused before Domitian of having conspired with Nerva to put an end to the reign of the tyrant. He appears to have proved that he was at another place, and therefore could not have engaged in the conspiracy that was charged upon him. Domitian publicly cleared him from the accusation, but at the same time required him not to withdraw from Rome, till the emperor had first had a private conference with him. To this requisition Apollonius replied in the most spirited terms. "I thank your majesty," said he, "for the justice you have rendered me. But I cannot submit to what you require. How can I be secure from the false accusations of the unprincipled informers who infest your court? It is by their means that whole towns of your empire are unpeopled, that provinces are involved in mourning and tears, your armies are in mutiny, your senate full of suspicion and alarms, and the islands are crowded with exiles. It is not for myself that I speak, my soul is invulnerable to your enmity; and it is not given to you by the Gods to become master of my body." And, having thus given utterance to the virtuous anguish of his spirit, he suddenly became invisible in the midst of a full assembly, and was immediately after seen at Puteoli in the neighbourhood of Mount Vesuvius. [134] Domitian pursued the prophet no further; and he passed shortly after to Greece, to Ionia, and finally to Ephesus. He every where delivered lectures as he went, and was attended with crowds of the most distinguished auditors, and with the utmost popularity. At length at Ephesus, when he was in the midst of an eloquent harangue, he suddenly became silent. He seemed as if he saw a spectacle which engrossed all his attention. His countenance expressed fervour and the most determined purpose. He exclaimed, "Strike the tyrant; strike him!" and immediately after, raising himself, and addressing the assembly, he said, "Domitian is no more; the world is delivered of its bitterest oppressor."--The next post brought the news that the emperor was killed at Rome, exactly on the day and at the hour when Apollonius had thus made known the event at Ephesus. [135] Nerva succeeded Domitian, between whom and Apollonius there subsisted the sincerest friendship. The prophet however did not long survive this event. He was already nearly one hundred years old. But what is most extraordinary, no one could tell precisely when or where he died. No tomb bore the record of his memory; and his biographer inclines to the opinion that he was taken up into heaven. [136] Divine honours were paid to this philosopher, both during his life, and after his death. The inhabitants of Tyana built a temple to him, and his image was to be found in many other temples. [137] The emperor Adrian collected his letters, and treated them as an invaluable relic. Alexander Severus placed his statue in his oratory, together with those of Jesus Christ, Abraham and Orpheus, to whom he was accustomed daily to perform the ceremonies of religion. [138] Vopiscus, in his Life of Aurelian, [139] relates that this emperor had determined to rase the city of Tyana, but that Apollonius, whom he knew from his statues, appeared to him, and said, "Aurelian, if you would conquer, do not think of the destruction of my citizens: Aurelian, if you would reign, abstain from the blood of the innocent: Aurelian, if you would conquer, distinguish yourself by acts of clemency." It was at the desire of Julia, the mother of Severus, that Philostratus composed the life of Apollonius, to which he is now principally indebted for his fame. [140] The publicity of Apollonius and his miracles has become considerably greater, from the circumstance of the early enemies of the Christian religion having instituted a comparison between the miracles of Christ and of this celebrated philosopher, for the obvious purpose of undermining one of the most considerable evidences of the truth of divine revelation. It was probably with an indirect view of this sort that Philostratus was incited by the empress Julia to compose his life of this philosopher; and Hierocles, a writer of the time of Dioclesian, appears to have penned an express treatise in the way of a parallel between the two, attempting to shew a decisive superiority in the miracles of Apollonius. APULEIUS. Apuleius of Madaura in Africa, who lived in the time of the Antonines, appears to have been more remarkable as an author, than for any thing that occurs in the history of his life. St. Augustine and Lactantius however have coupled him with Apollonius of Tyana, as one of those who for their pretended miracles were brought into competition with the author of the Christian religion. But this seems to have arisen from their misapprehension respecting his principal work, the Golden Ass, which is a romance detailing certain wonderful transformations, and which they appear to have thought was intended as an actual history of the life of the author. The work however deserves to be cited in this place, as giving a curious representation of the ideas which were then prevalent on the subjects of magic and witchcraft. The author in the course of his narrative says: "When the day began to dawn, I chanced to awake, and became desirous to know and see some marvellous and strange things, remembering that I was now in the midst of Thessaly, where, by the common report of the world, sorceries and enchantments are most frequent. I viewed the situation of the place in which I was; nor was there any thing I saw, that I believed to be the same thing which it appeared. Insomuch that the very stones in the street I thought were men bewitched and turned into that figure, and the birds I heard chirping, the trees without the walls, and the running waters, were changed from human creatures into the appearances they wore. I persuaded myself that the statues and buildings could move, that the oxen and other brute beasts could speak and tell strange tidings, and that I should see and hear oracles from heaven, conveyed on the beams of the sun." ALEXANDER THE PAPHLAGONIAN. At the same time with Apuleius lived Alexander the Paphlagonian, of whom so extraordinary an account is transmitted to us by Lucian. He was the native of an obscure town, called Abonotica, but was endowed with all that ingenuity and cunning which enables men most effectually to impose upon their fellow-creatures. He was tall of stature, of an impressive aspect, a fair complexion, eyes that sparkled with an awe-commanding fire as if informed by some divinity, and a voice to the last degree powerful and melodious. To these he added the graces of carriage and attire. Being born to none of the goods of fortune, he considered with himself how to turn these advantages to the greatest account; and the plan he fixed upon was that of instituting an oracle entirely under his own direction. He began at Chalcedon on the Thracian Bosphorus; but, continuing but a short time there, he used it principally as an opportunity for publishing that Aesculapius, with Apollo, his father, would in no long time fix his residence at Abonotica. This rumour reached the fellow-citizens of the prophet, who immediately began to lay the foundations of a temple for the reception of the God. In due time Alexander made his appearance; and he so well managed his scheme, that, by means of spies and emissaries whom he scattered in all directions, he not only collected applications to his prophetic skill from the different towns of Ionia, Cilicia and Galatia, but presently extended his fame to Italy and Rome. For twenty years scarcely any oracle of the known world could vie with that of Abonotica; and the emperor Aurelius himself is said to have relied for the success of a military expedition upon the predictions of Alexander the Paphlagonian. Lucian gives, or pretends to give, an account of the manner in which Alexander gained so extraordinary a success. He says, that this young man in his preliminary travels, coming to Pella in Macedon, found that the environs of this city were distinguished from perhaps all other parts of the world, by a breed of serpents of extraordinary size and beauty. Our author adds that these serpents were so tame, that they inhabited the houses of the province, and slept in bed with the children. If you trod upon them, they did not turn again, or shew tokens of anger, and they sucked the breasts of the women to whom it might be of service to draw off their milk. Lucian says, it was probably one of these serpents, that was found in the bed of Olympias, and gave occasion to the tale that Alexander the Great was begotten by Jupiter under the form of a serpent. The prophet bought the largest and finest serpent he could find, and conveyed it secretly with him into Asia. When he came to Abonotica, he found the temple that was built surrounded with a moat; and he took an opportunity privately of sinking a goose-egg, which he had first emptied of its contents, inserting instead a young serpent just hatched, and closing it again with great care. He then told his fellow-citizens that the God was arrived, and hastening to the moat, scooped up the egg in an egg-cup in presence of the whole assembly. He next broke the shell, and shewed the young serpent that twisted about his fingers in presence of the admiring multitude. After this he suffered several days to elapse, and then, collecting crowds from every part of Paphlagonia, he exhibited himself, as he had previously announced he should do, with the fine serpent he had brought from Macedon twisted in coils about the prophet's neck, and its head hid under his arm-pit, while a head artfully formed with linen, and bearing some resemblance to a human face, protruded itself, and passed for the head of the reptile. The spectators were beyond measure astonished to see a little embryo serpent, grown in a few days to so magnificent a size, and exhibiting the features of a human countenance. Having thus far succeeded, Alexander did not stop here. He contrived a pipe which passed seemingly into the mouth of the animal, while the other end terminated in an adjoining room, where a man was placed unseen, and delivered the replies which appeared to come from the mouth of the serpent. This immediate communication with the God was reserved for a few favoured suitors, who bought at a high price the envied distinction. The method with ordinary enquirers was for them to communicate their requests in writing, which they were enjoined to roll up and carefully seal; and these scrolls were returned to them in a few days, with the seals apparently unbroken, but with an answer written within, strikingly appropriate to the demand that was preferred.--It is further to be observed, that the mouth of the serpent was occasionally opened by means of a horsehair skilfully adjusted for the purpose, at the same time that by similar means the animal darted out its biforked tongue to the terror of the amazed bystanders. REVOLUTION PRODUCED IN THE HISTORY OF NECROMANCY AND WITCHCRAFT UPON THE ESTABLISHMENT OF CHRISTIANITY. It is necessary here to take notice of the great revolution that took place under Constantine, nearly three hundred years after the death of Christ, when Christianity became the established religion of the Roman empire. This was a period which produced a new era in the history of necromancy and witchcraft. Under the reign of polytheism, devotion was wholly unrestrained in every direction it might chance to assume. Gods known and unknown, the spirits of departed heroes, the Gods of heaven and hell, abstractions of virtue or vice, might unblamed be made the objects of religious worship. Witchcraft therefore, and the invocation of the spirits of the dead, might be practised with toleration; or at all events were not regarded otherwise than as venial deviations from the religion of the state. It is true, there must always have been a horror of secret arts, especially of such as were of a maleficent nature. At all times men dreaded the mysterious power of spells and incantations, of potent herbs and nameless rites, which were able to control the eternal order of the planets, and the voluntary operations of mind, which could extinguish or recal life, inflame the passions of the soul, blast the works of creation, and extort from invisible beings and the dead the secrets of futurity. But under the creed of the unity of the divine nature the case was exceedingly different. Idolatry, and the worship of other Gods than one, were held to be crimes worthy of the utmost abhorrence and the severest punishment. There was no medium between the worship of heaven and hell. All adoration was to be directed to God the Creator through the mediation of his only begotten Son; or, if prayers were addressed to inferior beings, and the glorified spirits of his saints, at least they terminated in the Most High, were a deprecation of his wrath, a soliciting his favour, and a homage to his omnipotence. On the other hand sorcery and witchcraft were sins of the blackest dye. In opposition to the one only God, the creator of heaven and earth, was the "prince of darkness," the "prince of the power of the air," who contended perpetually against the Almighty, and sought to seduce his creatures and his subjects from their due allegiance. Sorcerers and witches were supposed to do homage and sell themselves to the devil, than which it was not in the mind of man to conceive a greater enormity, or a crime more worthy to cause its perpetrators to be exterminated from the face of the earth. The thought of it was of power to cause the flesh of man to creep and tingle with horror: and such as were prone to indulge their imaginations to the utmost extent of the terrible, found a perverse delight in conceiving this depravity, and were but too much disposed to fasten it upon their fellow-creatures. MAGICAL CONSULTATIONS RESPECTING THE LIFE OF THE EMPEROR. It was not within the range of possibility, that such a change should take place in the established religion of the empire as that from Paganism to Christianity, without convulsions and vehement struggle. The prejudices of mankind on a subject so nearly concerned with their dearest interests and affections must inevitably be powerful and obstinate; and the lucre of the priesthood, together with the strong hold they must necessarily have had on the weakness and superstition of their flocks, would tend to give force and perpetuity to the contention. Julian, a man of great ability and unquestionable patriotism, succeeded to the empire only twenty-four years after the death of Constantine; and he employed the most vigorous measures for the restoration of the ancient religion. But the reign of Julian was scarcely more than eighteen months in duration: and that of Jovian, his successor, who again unfurled the standard of Christianity, lasted hardly more than half a year. The state of things bore a striking similarity to that of England at the time of the Protestant Reformation, where the opposite faiths of Edward the Sixth and his sister Mary, and the shortness of their reigns, gave preternatural keenness to the feelings of the parties, and instigated them to hang with the most restless anticipation upon the chances of the demise of the sovereign, and the consequences, favourable or unfavourable, that might arise from a new accession. The joint reign of Valentinian and Valens, Christian emperors, had now lasted several years, when information was conveyed to these princes, and particularly to the latter, who had the rule of Asia, that numerous private consultations were held, as to the duration of their authority, and the person of the individual who should come after them. The succession of the Roman empire was elective; and consequently there was almost an unlimited scope for conjecture in this question. Among the various modes of enquiry that were employed we are told, that the twenty-four letters of the alphabet were artificially disposed in a circle, and that a magic ring, being suspended over the centre, was conceived to point to the initial letters of the name of him who should be the future emperor. Theodorus, a man of most eminent qualifications, and high popularity, was put to death by the jealousy of Valens, on the vague evidence that this kind of trial had indicated the early letters of his name. [141] It may easily be imagined, that, where so restless and secret an investigation was employed as to the successor that fate might provide, conspiracy would not always be absent. Charges of this sort were perpetually multiplied; informers were eager to obtain favour or rewards by the disclosures they pretended to communicate; and the Christians, who swayed the sceptre of the state, did not fail to aggravate the guilt of those who had recourse to these means for satisfying their curiosity, by alleging that demons were called up from hell to aid in the magic solution. The historians of these times no doubt greatly exaggerate the terror and the danger, when they say, that the persons apprehended on such charges in the great cities outnumbered the peaceable citizens who were left unsuspected, and that the military who had charge of the prisoners, complained that they were wholly without the power to restrain the flight of the captives, or to control the multitude of partisans who insisted on their immediate release. [142] The punishments were barbarous and indiscriminate; to be accused was almost the same thing as to be convicted; and those were obliged to hold themselves fortunate, who escaped with a fine that in a manner swallowed up their estates. HISTORY OF NECROMANCY IN THE EAST. From the countries best known in what is usually styled ancient history, in other words from Greece and Rome, and the regions into which the spirit of conquest led the people of Rome and Greece, it is time we should turn to the East, and those remoter divisions of the world, which to them were comparatively unknown. With what has been called the religion of the Magi, of Egypt, Persia and Chaldea, they were indeed superficially acquainted; but for a more familiar and accurate knowledge of the East we are chiefly indebted to certain events of modern history; to the conquests of the Saracens, when they possessed themselves of the North of Africa, made themselves masters of Spain, and threatened in their victorious career to subject France to their standard; to the crusades; to the spirit of nautical discovery which broke out in the close of the fifteenth century; and more recently to the extensive conquests and mighty augmentation of territory which have been realised by the English East India Company. The religion of Persia was that of Zoroaster and the Magi. When Ardshir, or Artaxerxes, the founder of the race of the Sassanides, restored the throne of Persia in the year of Christ 226, he called together an assembly of the Magi from all parts of his dominions, and they are said to have met to the number of eighty thousand. [143] These priests, from a remote antiquity, had to a great degree preserved their popularity, and had remarkably adhered to their ancient institutions. They seem at all times to have laid claim to the power of suspending the course of nature, and producing miraculous phenomena. But in so numerous a body there must have been some whose pretensions were of a more moderate nature, and others who displayed a loftier aspiration. The more ambitious we find designated in their native language by the name of _Jogees_, [144] of the same signification as the Latin _juncti_. Their notions of the Supreme Being are said to have been of the highest and abstrusest character, as comprehending every possible perfection of power, wisdom and goodness, as purely spiritual in his essence, and incapable of the smallest variation and change, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Such as they apprehended him to be, such the most perfect of their priests aspired to make themselves. They were to put off all human weakness and frailty; and, in proportion as they _assimilated_, or rather _became one_ with the Deity, they supposed themselves to partake of his attributes, to become infinitely wise and powerful and good. Hence their claim to suspend the course of nature, and to produce miraculous phenomena. For this purpose it was necessary that they should abstract themselves from every thing mortal, have no human passions or partialities, and divest themselves as much as possible of all the wants and demands of our material frame. Zoroaster appears indeed to have preferred morality to devotion, to have condemned celibacy and fasting, and to have pronounced, that "he who sows the ground with diligence and care, acquires a greater stock of religious merit than he who should repeat ten thousand prayers." But his followers at least did not abide by this decision. They found it more practicable to secure to themselves an elevated reputation by severe observances, rigid self-denial, and the practice of the most inconceivable mortifications. This excited wonder and reverence and a sort of worship from the bystander, which industry and benevolence do not so assuredly secure. They therefore in frequent instances lacerated their flesh, and submitted to incredible hardships. They scourged themselves without mercy, wounded their bodies with lancets and nails, [145] and condemned themselves to remain for days and years unmoved in the most painful attitudes. It was no unprecedented thing for them to take their station upon the top of a high pillar; and some are said to have continued in this position, without ever coming down from it, for thirty years. The more they trampled under foot the universal instincts of our nature, and shewed themselves superior to its infirmities, the nearer they approached to the divine essence, and to the becoming one with the Omnipresent. They were of consequence the more sinless and perfect; their will became the will of the Deity, and they were in a sense invested with, and became the mediums of the acts of, his power. The result of all this is, that they who exercised the art of magic in its genuine and unadulterated form, at all times applied it to purposes of goodness and benevolence, and that their interference was uniformly the signal of some unequivocal benefit, either to mankind in general, or to those individuals of mankind who were best entitled to their aid. It was theirs to succour virtue in distress, and to interpose the divine assistance in cases that most loudly and unquestionably called for it. Such, we are told, was the character of the pure and primitive magic, as it was handed down from the founder of their religion. It was called into action by the Jogees, men who, by an extraordinary merit of whatever sort, had in a certain sense rendered themselves one with the Deity. But the exercise of magical power was too tempting an endowment, not in some cases to be liable to abuse. Even as we read of the angels in heaven, that not all of them stood, and persevered in their original sinlessness and integrity, so of the Jogees some, partaking of the divine power, were also under the direction of a will celestial and divine, while others, having derived, we must suppose, a mighty and miraculous power from the gift of God, afterwards abused it by applying it to capricious, or, as it should seem, to malignant purposes. This appears to have been every where essential to the history of magic. If those who were supposed to possess it in its widest extent and most astonishing degree, had uniformly employed it only in behalf of justice and virtue, they would indeed have been regarded as benefactors, and been entitled to the reverence and love of mankind. But the human mind is always prone to delight in the terrible. No sooner did men entertain the idea of what was supernatural and uncontrolable, than they began to fear it and to deprecate its hostility. They apprehended they knew not what, of the dead returning to life, of invisible beings armed with the power and intention of executing mischief, and of human creatures endowed with the prerogative of bringing down pestilence and slaughter, of dispensing wealth and poverty, prosperity and calamity at their pleasure, of causing health and life to waste away by insensible, but sure degrees, of producing lingering torments, and death in its most fearful form. Accordingly it appears that, as there were certain magicians who were as Gods dispensing benefits to those who best deserved it, so there were others, whose only principle of action was caprice, and against whose malice no innocence and no degree of virtue would prove a defence. As the former sort of magicians were styled _Jogees_, and were held to be the deputies and instruments of infinite goodness, so the other sort were named _Ku-Jogees_, that is, persons who possessing the same species of ascendancy over the powers of nature, employed it only in deeds of malice and wickedness. In the mean time these magicians appear to have produced the wonderful effects which drew to them the reverence of the vulgar, very frequently by the intervention of certain beings of a nature superior to the human, who should seem, though ordinarily invisible, to have had the faculty of rendering themselves visible when they thought proper, and assuming what shape they pleased. These are principally known by the names of Peris, Dives, [146] and Gins, or Genii. Richardson, in the preface to his Persian Dictionary, from which our account will principally be taken, refers us to what he calls a romance, but from which he, appears to derive the outline of his Persian mythology. In this romance Kahraman, a mortal, is introduced in conversation with Simurgh, a creature partaking of the nature of a bird and a griffon, who reveals to him the secrets of the past history of the earth. She tells him that she has lived to see the world seven times peopled with inhabitants of so many different natures, and seven times depopulated, the former inhabitants having been so often removed, and giving place to their successors. The beings who occupied the earth previously to man, were distinguished into the Peris and the Dives; and, when they no longer possessed the earth in chief, they were, as it should seem, still permitted, in an airy and unsubstantial form, and for the most part invisibly, to interfere in the affairs of the human race. These beings ruled the earth during seventy-two generations. The last monarch, named Jan bin Jan, conducted himself so ill, that God sent the angel Haris to chastise him. Haris however became intoxicated with power, and employed his prerogative in the most reprehensible manner. God therefore at length created Adam, the first of men, crowning him with glory and honour, and giving him dominion over all other earthly beings. He commanded the angels to obey him; but Haris refused, and the Dives followed his example. The rebels were for the most part sent to hell for their contumacy; but a part of the Dives, whose disobedience had been less flagrant, were reserved, and allowed for a certain term to walk the earth, and by their temptations to put the virtue and constancy of man to trial. Henceforth the human race was secretly surrounded by invisible beings of two species, the Peris, who were friendly to man, and the Dives, who exercised their ingenuity in involving them in error and guilt. The Peris were beautiful and benevolent, but imperfect and offending beings; they are supposed to have borne a considerable resemblance to the Fairies of the western world. The Dives were hideous in form, and of a malignant disposition. The Peris subsist wholly on perfumes, which the Dives, being of a grosser nature, hold in abhorrence. This mythology is said to have been unknown in Arabia till long after Mahomet: the only invisible beings we read of in their early traditions are the Gins, which term, though now used for the most part as synonimous with Dives, originally signified nothing more than certain infernal fiends of stupendous power, whose agency was hostile to man. There was perpetual war between the Peris and the Dives, whose proper habitation was Kaf, or Caucasus, a line of mountains which was supposed to reach round the globe. In these wars the Peris generally came off with the worst; and in that case they are represented in the traditional tales of the East, as applying to some gallant and heroic mortal to reinforce their exertions. The warriors who figure in these narratives appear all to have been ancient Persian kings. Tahmuras, one of the most celebrated of them, is spoken of as mounting upon Simurgh, surrounded with talismans and enchanted armour, and furnished with a sword the dint of which nothing could resist. He proceeds to Kaf, or Ginnistan, and defeats Arzshank, the chief of the Dives, but is defeated in turn by a more formidable competitor. The war appears to be carried on for successive ages with alternate advantage and disadvantage, till after the lapse of centuries Rustan kills Arzshank, and finally reduces the Dives to a subject and tributary condition. In all this there is a great resemblance to the fables of Scandinavia; and the Northern and the Eastern world seem emulously to have contributed their quota of chivalry and romance, of heroic achievements and miraculous events, of monsters and dragons, of amulets and enchantment, and all those incidents which most rouse the imagination, and are calculated to instil into generous and enterprising youth a courage the most undaunted and invincible. GENERAL SILENCE OF THE EAST RESPECTING INDIVIDUAL NECROMANCERS. Asia has been more notorious than perhaps any other division of the globe for the vast multiplicity and variety of its narratives of sorcery and magic. I have however been much disappointed in the thing I looked for in the first place, and that is, in the individual adventures of such persons as might be supposed to have gained a high degree of credit and reputation for their skill in exploits of magic. Where the professors are many (and they have been perhaps no where so numerous as those of magic in the East), it is unavoidable but that some should have been more dextrous than others, more eminently gifted by nature, more enthusiastic and persevering in the prosecution of their purpose, and more fortunate in awakening popularity and admiration among their contemporaries. In the instances of Apollonius Tyanaeus and others among the ancients, and of Cornelius Agrippa, Roger Bacon and Faust among the moderns, we are acquainted with many biographical particulars of their lives, and can trace with some degree of accuracy, their peculiarities of disposition, and observe how they were led gradually from one study and one mode of action to another. But the magicians of the East, so to speak, are mere abstractions, not characterised by any of those habits which distinguish one individual of the human race from another, and having those marking traits and petty lineaments which make the person, as it were, start up into life while he passes before our eyes. They are merely reported to us as men prone to the producing great signs and wonders, and nothing more. Two of the most remarkable exceptions that I have found to this rule, occur in the examples of Rocail, and of Hakem, otherwise called Mocanna. ROCAIL. The first of these however is scarcely to be called an exception, as lying beyond the limits of all credible history, Rocail is said to have been the younger brother of Seth, the son of Adam. A Dive, or giant of mount Caucasus, being hard pressed by his enemies, sought as usual among the sons of men for aid that might extricate him out of his difficulties. He at length made an alliance with Rocail, by whose assistance he arrived at the tranquillity he desired, and who in consequence became his grand vizier, or prime minister. He governed the dominions of his principal for many years with great honour and success; but, ultimately perceiving the approaches of old age and death, he conceived a desire to leave behind him a monument worthy of his achievements in policy and war. He according erected, we are not told by what means, a magnificent palace, and a sepulchre equally worthy of admiration. But what was most entitled to notice, he peopled this palace with statues of so extraordinary a quality, that they moved and performed all the functions and offices of living men, so that every one who beheld them would have believed that they were actually informed with souls, whereas in reality all they did was by the power of magic, in consequence of which, though they were in fact no more than inanimate matter, they were enabled to obey the behests, and perform the will, of the persons by whom they were visited. [147] HAKEM, OTHERWISE MOCANNA. Hakem was a leader in one of the different divisions of the followers of Mahomet. To inspire the greater awe into the minds of his supporters, he pretended that he was the Most High God, the creator of heaven and earth, under one of the different forms by which he has in successive ages become incarnate, and made himself manifest to his creatures. He distinguished himself by the peculiarity of always wearing a thick and impervious veil, by which, according to his followers, he covered the dazzling splendour of his countenance, which was so great that no mortal could behold it and live, but that, according to his enemies, only served to conceal the hideousness of his features, too monstrously deformed to be contemplated without horror. One of his miracles, which seems the most to have been insisted on, was that he nightly, for a considerable space of time, caused an orb, something like the moon, to rise from a sacred well, which gave a light scarcely less splendid than the day, that diffused its beams for many miles around. His followers were enthusiastically devoted to his service, and he supported his authority unquestioned for a number of years. At length a more formidable opponent appeared, and after several battles he became obliged to shut himself up in a strong fortress. Here however he was so straitly besieged as to be driven to the last despair, and, having administered poison to his whole garrison, he prepared a bath of the most powerful ingredients, which, when he threw himself into it, dissolved his frame, even to the very bones, so that nothing remained of him but a lock of his hair. He acted thus, with the hope that it would be believed that he was miraculously taken up into heaven; nor did this fail to be the effect on the great body of his adherents. [148] ARABIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS. The most copious record of stories of Asiatic enchantment that we possess, is contained in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments; to which we may add the Persian Tales, and a few other repositories of Oriental adventures. It is true that these are delivered to us in a garb of fiction; but they are known to present so exact a picture of Eastern manners and customs, and so just a delineation of the follies, the weaknesses and credulity of the races of men that figure in them, that, in the absence of materials of a strictly historical sort of which we have to complain, they may not inadequately supply the place, and may furnish us with a pretty full representation of the ideas of sorcery and magic which for centuries were entertained in this part of the world. They have indeed one obvious defect, which it is proper the reader should keep constantly in mind. The mythology and groundwork of the whole is Persian: but the narrator is for the most part a Mahometan. Of consequence the ancient Fire-worshippers, though they contribute the entire materials, and are therefore solely entitled to our gratitude and deference for the abundant supply they have furnished to our curiosity, are uniformly treated in these books with disdain and contumely as unworthy of toleration, while the comparative upstart race of the believers in the Koran are held out to us as the only enlightened and upright among the sons of men. Many of the matters most currently related among these supernatural phenomena, are tales of transformation. A lady has two sisters of the most profligate and unprincipled character. They have originally the same share of the paternal inheritance as herself. But they waste it in profusion and folly, while she improves her portion by good judgment and frugality. Driven to the extremity of distress, they humble themselves, and apply to her for assistance. She generously imparts to them the same amount of wealth that they originally possessed, and they are once more reduced to poverty. This happens again and again. At length, finding them incapable of discretion, she prevails on them to come and live with her. By wearisome and ceaseless importunity they induce her to embark in a mercantile enterprise. Here she meets with a prince, who had the misfortune to be born in a region of fire-worshippers, but was providentially educated by a Mahometan nurse. Hence, when his countrymen were by divine vengeance all turned into stones, he alone was saved alive. The lady finds him in this situation, endowed with sense and motion amidst a petrified city, and they immediately fall in love with each other. She brings him away from this melancholy scene, and together they go on board the vessel which had been freighted by herself and her sisters. But the sisters become envious of her good fortune, and conspire, while she and the prince are asleep, to throw them overboard. The prince is drowned; but the lady with great difficulty escapes. She finds herself in a desert island, not far from the place where she had originally embarked on her adventure; and, having slept off the fatigues she had encountered, beholds on her awaking a black woman with an agreeable countenance, a fairy, who leads in her hand two black bitches coupled together with a cord. These black bitches are the lady's sisters, thus metamorphosed, as a punishment for their ingratitude and cruelty. The fairy conveys her through the air to her own house in Bagdad, which she finds well stored with all sorts of commodities, and delivers to her the two animals, with an injunction that she is to whip them every day at a certain hour as a further retribution for their crimes. This was accordingly punctually performed; and, at the end of each day's penance, the lady, having before paid no regard to the animals' gestures and pitiable cries, wept over them, took them in her arms, kissed them, and carefully wiped the moisture from their eyes. Having persevered for a length of time in this discipline, the offenders are finally, by a counter-incantation, restored to their original forms, being by the severities they had suffered entirely cured of the vices which had occasioned their calamitous condition. Another story is of a calender, a sort of Mahometan monk, with one eye, who had originally been a prince. He had contracted a taste for navigation and naval discoveries; and, in one of his voyages, having been driven by stress of weather into unknown seas, he suddenly finds himself attracted towards a vast mountain of loadstone, which first, by virtue of the iron and nails in the ship, draws the vessel towards itself, and then, by its own intrinsic force, extracts the nails, so that the ship tumbles to pieces, and every one on board is drowned. The mountain, on the side towards the sea, is all covered with nails, which had been drawn from vessels that previously suffered the same calamity; and these nails at once preserve and augment the fatal power of the mountain. The prince only escapes; and he finds himself in a desolate island, with a dome of brass, supported by brazen pillars, and on the top of it a horse of brass, and a rider of the same metal. This rider the prince is fated to throw down, by means of an enchanted arrow, and thus to dissolve the charm which had been fatal to thousands. From the desolate island he embarked on board a boat, with a single rower, a man of metal, and would have been safely conveyed to his native country, had he not inadvertently pronounced the name of God, that he had been warned not to do, and which injunction he had observed many days. On this the boat immediately sunk; but the prince was preserved, who comes into a desolate island, where he finds but one inhabitant, a youth of fifteen. This youth is hid in a cavern, it having been predicted of him that he should be killed after fifty days, by the man that threw down the horse of brass and his rider. A great friendship is struck up between the unsuspecting youth and the prince, who nevertheless fulfils the prediction, having by a pure accident killed the youth on the fiftieth day. He next arrives at a province of the main land, where he visits a castle, inhabited by ten very agreeable young men, each blind of the right eye. He dwells with them for a month, and finds, after a day of pleasant entertainment, that each evening they do penance in squalidness and ashes. His curiosity is greatly excited to obtain an explanation of what he saw, but this they refuse, telling him at the same time, that he may, if he pleases, pass through the same adventure as they have done, and, if he does, wishing it may be attended with a more favourable issue. He determines to make the experiment; and by their direction, after certain preparations, is flown away with through the air by a roc, a stupendous bird, that is capable in the same manner of carrying off an elephant. By this means he is brought to a castle of the most extraordinary magnificence, inhabited by forty ladies of exquisite beauty. With these ladies he lives for eleven months in a perpetual succession of delights. But in the twelfth month they tell him, that they are obliged to leave him till the commencement of the new year. In the mean time they give him for his amusement the keys of one hundred apartments, all but one of which he is permitted to open. He is delighted with the wonders of these apartments till the last day. On that day he opens the forbidden room, where the rarity that most strikes him is a black horse of admirable shape and appearance, with a saddle and bridle of gold. He leads this horse into the open air, and is tempted to mount him. The horse first stands still; but at length, being touched with a switch, spreads a pair of wings which the prince had not before perceived, and mounts to an amazing height in the air. The horse finally descends on the terrace of a castle, where he throws his rider, and leaves him, having first dashed out his right eye with a sudden swing of his tail. The prince goes down into the castle, and to his surprise finds himself in company with the ten young men, blind of one eye, who had passed through the same adventure as he had done, and all been betrayed by means of the same infirmity. PERSIAN TALES. These two stories are from the Arabian Nights: the two following are from the Persian Tales.--Fadlallah, king of Mousel, contracted an intimacy with a young dervise, a species of Turkish friar, who makes a vow of perpetual poverty. The dervise, to ingratiate himself the more with the prince, informed him of a secret he possessed, by means of a certain incantation, of projecting his soul into the body of any dead animal he thought proper. To convince the king that this power was no empty boast, he offered to quit his own body, and animate that of a doe, which Fadlallah had just killed in hunting. He accordingly executed what he proposed, took possession of the body of the doe, displayed the most surprising agility, approached the king, fawning on him with every expression of endearment, and then, after various bounds, deserting the limbs of the animal, and repossessing his own frame, which during the experiment had lain breathless on the ground. Fadlallah became earnest to possess the secret of the dervise; and, after some demurs, it was communicated to him. The king took possession of the body of the doe; but his treacherous confident no sooner saw the limbs of Fadlallah stretched senseless on the ground, than he conveyed his own spirit into them, and, bending his bow, sought to destroy the life of his defenceless victim. The king by his agility escaped; and the dervise, resorting to the palace, took possession of the throne, and of the bed of the queen, Zemroude, with whom Fadlallah was desperately enamoured. The first precaution of the usurper was to issue a decree that all the deer within his dominions should be killed, hoping by this means to destroy the rightful sovereign. But the king, aware of his danger, had deserted the body of the doe, and entered that of a dead nightingale that lay in his path. In this disguise he hastened to the palace, and placed himself in a wide-spreading tree, which grew immediately before the apartment of Zemroude. Here he poured out his complaints and the grief that penetrated his soul in such melodious notes, as did not fail to attract the attention of the queen. She sent out her bird-catchers to make captive the little warbler; and Fadlallah, who desired no better, easily suffered himself to be made their prisoner. In this new position he demonstrated by every gesture of fondness his partiality to the queen; but if any of her women approached him, he pecked at them in anger, and, when the impostor made his appearance, could not contain the vehemence of his rage. It happened one night that the queen's lap-dog died; and the thought struck Fadlallah that he would animate the corpse of this animal. The next morning Zemroude found her favourite bird dead in his cage, and immediately became inconsolable. Never, she said, was so amiable a bird; he distinguished her from all others; he seemed even to entertain a passion for her; and she felt as if she could not survive his loss. The dervise in vain tried every expedient to console her. At length he said, that, if she pleased, he would cause her nightingale to revive every morning, and entertain her with his tunes as long as she thought proper. The dervise accordingly laid himself on a sopha, and by means of certain cabalistic words, transported his soul into the body of the nightingale, and began to sing. Fadlallah watched his time; he lay in a corner of the room unobserved; but no sooner had the dervise deserted his body, than the king proceeded to take possession of it. The first thing he did was to hasten to the cage, to open the door with uncontrolable impatience, and, seizing the bird, to twist off its head. Zemroude, amazed, asked him what he meant by so inhuman an action. Fadlallah in reply related to her all the circumstances that had befallen him; and the queen became so struck with agony and remorse that she had suffered her person, however innocently, to be polluted by so vile an impostor, that she could not get over the recollection, but pined away and died from a sense of the degradation she had endured. But a much more perplexing and astounding instance of transformation occurs in the history of the Young King of Thibet and the Princess of the Naimans. The sorcerers in this case are represented as, without any intermediate circumstance to facilitate their witchcraft, having the ability to assume the form of any one they please, and in consequence to take the shape of one actually present, producing a duplication the most confounding that can be imagined.--Mocbel, the son of an artificer of Damascus, but whose father had bequeathed him considerable wealth, contrived to waste his patrimony and his youth together in profligate living with Dilnouaze, a woman of dissolute manners. Finding themselves at once poor and despised, they had recourse to the sage Bedra, the most accomplished magician of the desert, and found means to obtain her favour. In consequence she presented them with two rings, which had the power of enabling them to assume the likeness of any man or woman they please. Thus equipped, Mocbel heard of the death of Mouaffack, prince of the Naimans, who was supposed to have been slain in a battle, and whose body had never been found. The niece of Mouaffack now filled the throne; and under these circumstances Mocbel conceived the design of personating the absent Mouaffack, exciting a rebellion among his countrymen, and taking possession of the throne. In this project he succeeded; and the princess driven into exile, took refuge in the capital of Thibet. Here the king saw her, fell in love with her, and espoused her. Being made acquainted with her history, he resolved to re-conquer her dominions, and sent a defiance to the usurper. Mocbel, terrified at the thought of so formidable an invader, first pretended to die, and then, with Dilnouaze, who during his brief reign had under the form of a beautiful woman personated his queen, proceeded in his original form to the capital of Thibet. Here his purpose was to interrupt the happiness of those who had disturbed him in his deceitful career. Accordingly one night, when the queen, previously to proceeding to her repose, had shut herself up in her closet to read certain passages of the Alcoran, Dilnouaze, assuming her form with the minutest exactness, hastened to place herself in the royal bed by the side of the king. After a time, the queen shut her book, and went along the gallery to the king's bedchamber, Mocbel watched his time, and placed himself, under the form of a frightful apparition, directly in the queen's path. She started at the sight, and uttered a piercing shriek. The king recognised her voice, and hastened to see what had happened to her. She explained; but the king spoke of something much more extraordinary, and asked her how it could possibly happen that she should be in the gallery, at the same moment that he had left her, undressed and in bed. They proceeded to the chamber to unravel the mystery. Here a contention occurred between the real and the seeming queen, each charging the other with imposture. The king turned from one to the other, and was unable to decide between their pretensions. The courtiers and the ladies of the bedchamber were called, and all were perplexed with uncertainty and doubt. At length they determine in favour of the false queen, It was then proposed that the other should be burned for a sorceress. The king however forbade this. He was not yet altogether decided; and could not resolve to consign his true queen, as it might possibly be, to a cruel death. He was therefore content to strip her of her royal robes, to clothe her in rags, and thrust her ignominiously from his palace. Treachery however was not destined to be ultimately triumphant. The king one day rode out a hunting; and Mocbel, that he might the better deceive the guards of the palace, seizing the opportunity, assumed his figure, and went to bed to Dilnouaze. The king meanwhile recollected something of importance, that he had forgotten before he went out to hunt, and returning upon his steps, proceeded to the royal chamber. Here to his utter confusion he found a man in bed with his queen, and that man to his greater astonishment the exact counterpart of himself. Furious at the sight, he immediately drew his scymetar. The man contrived to escape down the backstairs. The woman however remained in bed; and, stretching out her hands to intreat for mercy, the king struck off the hand which had the ring on it, and she immediately appeared, as she really was, a frightful hag. She begged for life; and, that she might mollify his rage, explained the mystery, told him that it was by means of a ring that she effected the delusion, and that by a similar enchantment her paramour had assumed the likeness of the king. The king meanwhile was inexorable, and struck off her head. He next turned in pursuit of the adulterer. Mocbel however had had time to mount on horseback. But the king mounted also; and, being the better horseman, in a short time overtook his foe. The impostor did not dare to cope with him, but asked his life; and the king, considering him as the least offender of the two, pardoned him upon condition of his surrendering the ring, in consequence of which he passed the remainder of his life in poverty and decrepitude. STORY OF A GOULE. A story in the Arabian Nights, which merits notice for its singularity, and as exhibiting a particular example of the credulity of the people of the East, is that of a man who married a sorceress, without being in any way conscious of her character in that respect. She was sufficiently agreeable in her person, and he found for the most part no reason to be dissatisfied with her. But he became uneasy at the strangeness of her behaviour, whenever they sat together at meals. The husband provided a sufficient variety of dishes, and was anxious that his wife should eat and be refreshed. But she took scarcely any nourishment. He set before her a plate of rice. From this plate she took somewhat, grain by grain; but she would taste of no other dish. The husband remonstrated with her upon her way of eating, but to no purpose; she still went on the same. He knew it was impossible for any one to subsist upon so little as she ate; and his curiosity was roused. One night, as he lay quietly awake, he perceived his wife rise very softly, and put on her clothes. He watched, but made as if he saw nothing. Presently she opened the door, and went out. He followed her unperceived, by moonlight, and tracked her into a place of graves. Here to his astonishment he saw her joined by a Goule, a sort of wandering demon, which is known to infest ruinous buildings, and from time to time suddenly rushes out, seizes children and other defenceless people, strangles, and devours them. Occasionally, for want of other food, this detested race will resort to churchyards, and, digging up the bodies of the newly-buried, gorge their appetites upon the flesh of these. The husband followed his wife and her supernatural companion, and watched their proceedings. He saw them digging in a new-made grave. They extracted the body of the deceased; and, the Goule cutting it up joint by joint, they feasted voraciously, and, having satisfied their appetites, cast the remainder into the grave again, and covered it up as before. The husband now withdrew unobserved to his bed, and the wife followed presently after. He however conceived a horrible loathing of such a wife; and she discovers that he is acquainted with her dreadful secret. They can no longer live together; and a metamorphosis followed. She turned him into a dog, which by ill usage she drove from her door; and he, aided by a benevolent sorceress, first recovers his natural shape, and then, having changed her into a mare, by perpetual hard usage and ill treatment vents his detestation of the character he had discovered in her. ARABIAN NIGHTS. A compilation of more vigorous imagination and more exhaustless variety than the Arabian Nights, perhaps never existed. Almost every thing that can be conceived of marvellous and terrific is there to be found. When we should apprehend the author or authors to have come to an end of the rich vein in which they expatiate, still new wonders are presented to us in endless succession. Their power of comic exhibition is not less extraordinary than their power of surprising and terrifying. The splendour of their painting is endless; and the mind of the reader is roused and refreshed by shapes and colours for ever new. RESEMBLANCE OF THE TALES OF THE EAST AND OF EUROPE. It is characteristic of this work to exhibit a faithful and particular picture of Eastern manners, customs, and modes of thinking and acting. And yet, now and then, it is curious to observe the coincidence of Oriental imagination with that of antiquity and of the North of Europe, so that it is difficult to conceive the one not to be copied from the other. Perhaps it was so; and perhaps not. Man is every where man, possessed of the same faculties, stimulated by the same passions, deriving pain and pleasure from the same sources, with similar hopes and fears, aspirations and alarms. In the Third Voyage of Sinbad he arrives at an island were he finds one man, a negro, as tall as a palm-tree, and with a single eye in the middle of his forehead. He takes up the crew, one by one, and selects the fattest as first to be devoured. This is done a second time. At length nine of the boldest seize on a spit, while he lay on his back asleep, and, having heated it red-hot, thrust it into his eye.--This is precisely the story of Ulysses and the Cyclops. The story of the Little Hunchback, who is choaked with a fish-bone, and, after having brought successive individuals into trouble on the suspicion of murdering him, is restored to life again, is nearly the best known of the Arabian Tales. The merry jest of Dan Hew, Monk of Leicester, who "once was hanged, and four times slain," bears a very striking resemblance to this. [149] A similar resemblance is to be found, only changing the sex of the aggressor, between the well known tale of Patient Grizzel, and that of Cheheristany in the Persian Tales. This lady was a queen of the Gins, who fell in love with the emperor of China, and agrees to marry him upon condition that she shall do what she pleases, and he shall never doubt that what she does is right. She bears him a son, beautiful as the day, and throws him into the fire. She bears him a daughter, and gives her to a white bitch, who runs away with her, and disappears. The emperor goes to war with the Moguls; and the queen utterly destroys the provisions of his army. But the fire was a salamander, and the bitch a fairy, who rear the children in the most admirable manner; and the provisions of the army were poisoned by a traitor, and are in a miraculous manner replaced by such as were wholesome and of the most invigorating qualities. CAUSES OF HUMAN CREDULITY. Meanwhile, though the stories above related are extracted from books purely and properly of fiction, they exhibit so just a delineation of Eastern manners and habits of mind, that, in the defect of materials strictly historical, they may to a certain degree supply the place. The principal feature they set before us is credulity and a love of the marvellous. This is ever found characteristic of certain ages of the world; but in Asia it prevails in uninterrupted continuity. Wherever learning and the exercise of the intellectual faculties first shew themselves, there mystery and a knowledge not to be communicated but to the select few must be expected to appear. Wisdom in its natural and genuine form seeks to diffuse itself; but in the East on the contrary it is only valued in proportion to its rarity. Those who devoted themselves to intellectual improvement, looked for it rather in solitary abstraction, than in free communication with the minds of others; and, when they condescended to the use of the organ of speech, they spoke in enigmas and ambiguities, and in phrases better adapted to produce wonder and perplexity, than to enlighten and instruct. When the more consummate instructed the novice, it was by slow degrees only, and through the medium of a long probation. In consequence of this state of things the privileged few conceived of their own attainments with an over-weening pride, and were puffed up with a sense of superiority; while the mass of their fellow-creatures looked to them with astonishment; and, agreeably to the Oriental creed of two independent and contending principles of good and of evil, regarded these select and supernaturally endowed beings anon as a source of the most enviable blessings, and anon as objects of unmingled apprehension and terror, before whom their understandings became prostrate, and every thing that was most appalling and dreadful was most easily believed. In this state superstition unavoidably grew infectious; and the more the seniors inculcated and believed, the more the imagination of the juniors became a pliant and unresisting slave. The Mantra, or charm, consisting of a few unintelligible words repeated again and again, always accompanied, or rather preceded, the supposed miraculous phenomenon that was imposed on the ignorant. Water was flung over, or in the face of, the thing or person upon whom the miraculous effect was to be produced. Incense was burned; and such chemical substances were set on fire, the dazzling appearance of which might confound the senses of the spectators. The whole consisted in the art of the juggler. The first business was to act on the passions, to excite awe and fear and curiosity in the parties; and next by a sort of slight of hand, and by changes too rapid to be followed by an unpractised eye, to produce phenomena, wholly unanticipated, and that could not be accounted for. Superstition was further an essential ingredient; and this is never perfect, but where the superior and more active party regards himself as something more than human, and the party acted upon beholds in the other an object of religious reverence, or tingles with apprehension of he knows not what of fearful and calamitous. The state of the party acted on, and indeed of either, is never complete, till the senses are confounded, what is imagined is so powerful as in a manner to exclude what is real, in a word, till, as the poet expresses it, "function is smothered in surmise, and nothing is, but what is not." It is in such a state of the faculties that it is entirely natural and simple, that one should mistake a mere dumb animal for one's relative or near connection in disguise. And, the delusion having once begun, the deluded individual gives to every gesture and motion of limb and eye an explanation that forwards the deception. It is in the same way that in ignorant ages the notion of changeling has been produced. The weak and fascinated mother sees every feature with a turn of expression unknown before, all the habits of the child appear different and strange, till the parent herself denies her offspring, and sees in the object so lately cherished and doated on, a monster uncouth and horrible of aspect. DARK AGES OF EUROPE In Europe we are slenderly supplied with historians, and with narratives exhibiting the manners and peculiarities of successive races of men, from the time of Theodosius in the close of the fourth century of the Christian era to the end of the tenth. Mankind during that period were in an uncommon degree wrapped up in ignorance and barbarism. We may be morally sure that this was an interval beyond all others, in which superstition and an implicit faith in supernatural phenomena predominated over this portion of the globe. The laws of nature, and the everlasting chain of antecedents and consequents, were little recognised. In proportion as illumination and science have risen on the world, men have become aware that the succession of events is universally operating, and that the frame of men and animals is every where the same, modified only by causes not less unchangeable in their influence than the internal constitution of the frame itself. We have learned to explain much; we are able to predict and investigate the course of things; and the contemplative and the wise are not less intimately and profoundly persuaded that the process of natural events is sure and simple and void of all just occasion for surprise and the lifting up of hands in astonishment, where we are not yet familiarly acquainted with the developement of the elements of things, as where we are. What we have not yet mastered, we feel confidently persuaded that the investigators that come after us will reduce to rules not less obvious, familiar and comprehensible, than is to us the rising of the sun, or the progress of animal and vegetable life from the first bud and seed of existence to the last stage of decrepitude and decay. But in these ages of ignorance, when but few, and those only the most obvious, laws of nature were acknowledged, every event that was not of almost daily occurrence, was contemplated with more or less of awe and alarm. These men "saw God in clouds, and heard him in the wind." Instead of having regard only to that universal Providence, which acts not by partial impulses, but by general laws, they beheld, as they conceived, the immediate hand of the Creator, or rather, upon most occasions, of some invisible intelligence, sometimes beneficent, but perhaps oftener malignant and capricious, interfering, to baffle the foresight of the sage, to humble the pride of the intelligent, and to place the discernment of the most gifted upon a level with the drivellings of the idiot, and the ravings of the insane. And, as in events men saw perpetually the supernatural and miraculous, so in their fellow-creatures they continually sought, and therefore frequently imagined that they found, a gifted race, that had command over the elements, held commerce with the invisible world, and could produce the most stupendous and terrific effects. In man, as we now behold him, we can ascertain his nature, the strength and pliability of his limbs, the accuracy of his eye, the extent of his intellectual acquisitions, and the subtlety of his powers of thought, and can therefore in a great measure anticipate what we have to hope or to fear from him. Every thing is regulated by what we call natural means. But, in the times I speak of, all was mysterious: the powers of men were subject to no recognised laws: and therefore nothing that imagination could suggest, exceeded the bounds of credibility. Some men were supposed to be so rarely endowed that "a thousand liveried angels" waited on them invisibly, to execute their behests for the benefit of those they favoured; while, much oftener, the perverse and crookedly disposed, who delighted in mischief, would bring on those to whom, for whatever capricious reason, they were hostile, calamities, which no sagacity could predict, and no merely human power could baffle and resist. After the tenth century enough of credulity remained, to display in glaring colours the aberrations of the human mind, and to furnish forth tales which will supply abundant matter for the remainder of this volume. But previously to this period, we may be morally sure, reigned most eminently the sabbath of magic and sorcery, when nothing was too wild, and remote from the reality of things, not to meet with an eager welcome, when terror and astonishment united themselves with a nameless delight, and the auditor was alarmed even to a sort of madness, at the same time that he greedily demanded an ever-fresh supply of congenial aliment. The more the known laws of the universe and the natural possibility of things were violated, with the stronger marks of approbation was the tale received: while the dextrous impostor, aware of the temper of his age, and knowing how most completely to blindfold and lead astray his prepared dupes, made a rich harvest of the folly of his contemporaries. But I am wrong to call him an impostor. He imposed upon himself, no less than on the gaping crowd. His discourses, even in the act of being pronounced, won upon his own ear; and the dexterity with which he baffled the observation of others, bewildered his ready sense, and filled him with astonishment at the magnitude of his achievements. The accomplished adventurer was always ready to regard himself rather as a sublime being endowed with great and stupendous attributes, than as a pitiful trickster. He became the God of his own idolatry, and stood astonished, as the witch of Endor in the English Bible is represented to have done, at the success of his incantations. But all these things are passed away, and are buried in the gulf of oblivion. A thousand tales, each more wonderful than the other, marked the year as it glided away. Every valley had its fairies; and every hill its giants. No solitary dwelling, unpeopled with human inhabitants, was without its ghosts; and no church-yard in the absence of day-light could be crossed with impunity. The gifted enchanter "bedimmed The noon-tide sun, willed forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war; to the dread, rattling thunder He gave forth fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt, the strong-based promontory He made to shake, and by the spurs plucked up The pine and cedar." It is but a small remnant of these marvellous adventures that has been preserved. The greater part of them are swallowed up in that gulf of oblivion, to which are successively consigned after a brief interval all events as they occur, except so far as their memory is preserved through the medium of writing and records. From the eleventh century commences a stream of historical relation, which since that time never entirely eludes the search of the diligent enquirer. Before this period there occasionally appears an historian or miscellaneous writer: but he seems to start up by chance; the eddy presently closes over him, and all is again impenetrable darkness. When this succession of writers began, they were unavoidably induced to look back upon the ages that had preceded them, and to collect here and there from tradition any thing that appeared especially worthy of notice. Of course any information they could glean was wild and uncertain, deeply stamped with the credulity and wonder of an ignorant period, and still increasing in marvellousness and absurdity from every hand it passed through, and from every tongue which repeated it. MERLIN. One of the most extraordinary personages whose story is thus delivered to us, is Merlin. He appears to have been contemporary with the period of the Saxon invasion of Britain in the latter part of the fifth century; but probably the earliest mention of his name by any writer that has come down to us is not previous to the eleventh. We may the less wonder therefore at the incredible things that are reported of him. He is first mentioned in connection with the fortune of Vortigern, who is represented by Geoffrey of Monmouth as at that time king of England. The Romans having withdrawn their legions from this island, the unwarlike Britons found themselves incompetent to repel the invasions of the uncivilised Scots and Picts, and Vortigern perceived no remedy but in inviting the Saxons from the northern continent to his aid. The Saxons successfully repelled the invader; but, having done this, they refused to return home. They determined to settle here, and, having taken various towns, are represented as at length inviting Vortigern and his principal nobility to a feast near Salisbury under pretence of a peace, where they treacherously slew three hundred of the chief men of the island, and threw Vortigern into chains. Here, by way of purchasing the restoration of his liberty, they induced him to order the surrender of London, York, Winchester, and other principal towns. Having lost all his strong holds, he consulted his magicians as to how he was to secure himself from this terrible foe. They advised him to build an impregnable tower, and pointed out the situation where it was to be erected. But so unfortunately did their advice succeed, that all the work that his engineers did in the building one day, the earth swallowed, so that no vestige was to be found on the next. The magicians were consulted again on this fresh calamity; and they told the king that that there was no remedying this disaster, other than by cementing the walls of his edifice with the blood of a human being, who was born of no human father. Vortigern sent out his emissaries in every direction in search of this victim; and at length by strange good fortune they lighted on Merlin near the town of Caermarthen, who told them that his mother was the daughter of a king, but that she had been got with child of him by a being of an angelic nature, and not a man. No sooner had they received this information, than they seized him, and hurried him away to Vortigern as the victim required. But in presence of the king he baffled the magicians; he told the king that the ground they had chosen for his tower, had underneath it a lake, which being drained, they would find at the bottom two dragons of inextinguishable hostility, that under that form figured the Britons and Saxons, all of which upon the experiment proved to be true. Vortigern died shortly after, and was succeeded first by Ambrosius, and then by Uther Pendragon. Merlin was the confident of all these kings. To Uther he exhibited a very criminal sort of compliance. Uther became desperately enamoured of Igerna, wife of the duke of Cornwal, and tried every means to seduce her in vain. Having consulted Merlin, the magician contrived by an extraordinary unguent to metamorphose Uther into the form of the duke. The duke had shut up his wife for safety in a very strong tower; but Uther in his new form gained unsuspected entrance; and the virtuous Igerna received him to her embraces, by means of which he begot Arthur, afterwards the most renowned sovereign of this island. Uther now contrived that the duke, her husband, should be slain in battle, and immediately married the fair Igerna, and made her his queen. The next exploit of Merlin was with the intent to erect a monument that should last for ever, to the memory of the three hundred British nobles that were massacred by the Saxons. This design produced the extraordinary edifice called Stonehenge. These mighty stones, which by no human power could be placed in the position in which we behold them, had originally been set up in Africa, and afterwards by means unknown were transported to Ireland. Merlin commanded that they should be carried over the sea, and placed where they now are, on Salisbury Plain. The workmen, having received his directions, exerted all their power and skill, but could not move one of them. Merlin, having for some time watched their exertions, at length applied his magic; and to the amazement of every one, the stones spontaneously quitted the situation in which they had been placed, rose to a great height in the air, and then pursued the course which Merlin had prescribed, finally settling themselves in Wiltshire, precisely in the position in which we now find them, and which they will for ever retain. The last adventure recorded of Merlin proceeded from a project he conceived for surrounding his native town of Caermarthen with a brazen wall. He committed the execution of this project to a multitude of fiends, who laboured upon the plan underground in a neighbouring cavern. [150] In the mean while Merlin had become enamoured of a supernatural being, called the Lady of the Lake. The lady had long resisted his importunities, and in fact had no inclination to yield to his suit. One day however she sent for him in great haste; and Merlin was of course eager to comply with her invitation. Nevertheless, before he set out, he gave it strictly in charge to the fiends, that they should by no means suspend their labours till they saw him return. The design of the lady was to make sport with him, and elude his addresses. Merlin on the contrary, with the hope to melt her severity, undertook to shew her the wonders of his art. Among the rest he exhibited to her observation a tomb, formed to contain two bodies; at the same time teaching her a charm, by means of which the sepulchre would close, and never again be opened. The lady pretended not to believe that the tomb was wide enough for its purpose, and inveigled the credulous Merlin to enter it, and place himself as one dead. No sooner had she so far succeeded, than she closed the lid of the sepulchre, and pronouncing the charm, rendered it impossible that it should ever be opened again till the day of judgment. Thus, according to the story, Merlin was shut in, a corrupted and putrifying body with a living soul, to which still inhered the faculty of returning in audible sounds a prophetic answer to such as resorted to it as an oracle. Meanwhile the fiends, at work in the cavern near Caermarthen, mindful of the injunction of their taskmaster, not to suspend their labours till his return, proceed for ever in their office; and the traveller who passes that way, if he lays his ear close to the mouth of the cavern, may hear a ghastly noise of iron chains and brazen caldrons, the loud strokes of the hammer, and the ringing sound of the anvil, intermixed with the pants and groans of the workmen, enough to unsettle the brain and confound the faculties of him that for any time shall listen to the din. As six hundred years elapsed between the time of Merlin and the earliest known records of his achievements, it is impossible to pronounce what he really pretended to perform, and how great were the additions which successive reporters have annexed to the wonders of his art, more than the prophet himself perhaps ever dreamed of. In later times, when the historians were the contemporaries of the persons by whom the supposed wonders were achieved, or the persons who have for these causes been celebrated have bequeathed certain literary productions to posterity, we may be able to form some conjecture as to the degree in which the heroes of the tale were deluding or deluded, and may exercise our sagacity in the question by what strange peculiarity of mind adventures which we now hold to be impossible obtained so general belief. But in a case like this of Merlin, who lived in a time so remote from that in which his history is first known to have been recorded, it is impracticable to determine at what time the fiction which was afterwards generally received began to be reported, or whether the person to whom the miracles were imputed ever heard or dreamed of the extraordinary things he is represented as having achieved. ST. DUNSTAN. An individual scarcely less famous in the dark ages, and who, like Merlin, lived in confidence with successive kings, was St. Dunstan. He was born and died in the tenth century. It is not a little instructive to employ our attention upon the recorded adventures, and incidents occurring in the lives, of such men, since, though plentifully interspersed with impossible tales, they serve to discover to us the tastes and prepossessions of the times in which these men lived, and the sort of accomplishments which were necessary to their success. St. Dunstan is said to have been a man of distinguished birth, and to have spent the early years of his life in much licentiousness. He was however doubtless a person of the most extraordinary endowments of nature. Ambition early lighted its fire in his bosom; and he displayed the greatest facility in acquiring any talent or art on which he fixed his attention. His career of profligacy was speedily arrested by a dangerous illness, in which he was given over by his physicians. While he lay apparently at the point of death, an angel was suddenly seen, bringing a medicine to him which effected his instant cure. The saint immediately rose from his bed, and hastened to the nearest church to give God thanks for his recovery. As he passed along, the devil, surrounded with a pack of black dogs, interposed himself to obstruct his way. Dunstan however intrepidly brandished a rod that he held in his hand, and his opposers took to flight. When he came to the church, he found the doors closed. But the same angel, who effected his cure, was at hand, and, taking him up softly by the hair of his head, placed him before the high altar, where he performed his devotions with suitable fervour. That he might expiate the irregularities of his past life, St. Dunstan now secluded himself entirely from the world, and constructed for his habitation a cell in the abbey of Glastonbury, so narrow that he could neither stand upright in it, nor stretch out his limbs in repose. He took scarcely so much sustenance as would support life, and mortified his flesh with frequent castigations. He did not however pass his time during this seclusion in vacuity and indolence. He pursued his studies with the utmost ardour, and made a great proficiency in philosophy, divinity, painting, sculpture and music. Above all, he was an admirable chemist, excelled in manufactures of gold and other metals, and was distinguished by a wonderful skill in the art of magic. During all these mortifications and the severeness of his industry, he appears to have become a prey to extraordinary visions and imaginations. Among the rest, the devil visited him in his cell, and, thrusting his head in at the window, disturbed the saint with obscene and blasphemous speeches, and the most frightful contortions of the features of his countenance. Dunstan at length, wearied out with his perseverance, seized the red-hot tongs with which he was engaged in some chemical experiment, and, catching the devil by the nose, held him with the utmost firmness, while Satan filled the whole neighbourhood for many miles round with his bellowings. Extraordinary as this may appear, it constitutes one of the most prominent incidents in the life of the saint; and the representations of it were for ever repeated in ancient carvings, and in the illuminations of church-windows. This was the precise period at which the pope and his adherents were gaining the greatest ascendancy in the Christian world. The doctrine of transubstantiation was now in the highest vogue; and along with it a precept still more essential to the empire of the Catholic church, the celibacy of the clergy. This was not at first established without vehement struggles. The secular clergy, who were required at once to cast off their wives as concubines, and their children as bastards, found every impulse of nature rising in arms against the mandate. The regular clergy, or monks, were in obvious rivalship with the seculars, and engrossed to themselves, as much as possible, all promotions and dignities, as well ecclesiastical as civil. St. Augustine, who first planted Christianity in this island, was a Benedictine monk; and the Benedictines were for a long time in the highest reputation in the Catholic church. St. Dunstan was also a Benedictine. In his time the question of the celibacy of the clergy was most vehemently agitated; and Dunstan was the foremost of the champions of the new institution in England. The contest was carried on with great vehemence. Many of the most powerful nobility, impelled either by pity for the sufferers, or induced by family affinities, supported the cause of the seculars. Three successive synods were held on the subject; and the cause of nature it is said would have prevailed, had not Dunstan and his confederates called in the influence of miracles to their aid. In one instance, a crucifix, fixed in a conspicuous part of the place of assembly, uttered a voice at the critical moment, saying, "Be steady! you have once decreed right; alter not your ordinances." At another time the floor of the place of meeting partially gave way, precipitating the ungodly opposers of celibacy into the place beneath, while Dunstan and his party, who were in another part of the assembly, were miraculously preserved unhurt. In these instances Dunstan seemed to be engaged in the cause of religion, and might be considered as a zealous, though mistaken, advocate of Christian simplicity and purity. But he was not contented with figuring merely as a saint. He insinuated himself into the favour of Edred, the grandson of Alfred, and who, after two or three short reigns, succeeded to the throne. Edred was an inactive prince, but greatly under the dominion of religious prejudices; and Dunstan, being introduced to him, found him an apt subject for his machinations. Edred first made him abbot of Glastonbury, one of the most powerful ecclesiastical dignities in England, and then treasurer of the kingdom. During the reign of this prince, Dunstan disposed of all ecclesiastical affairs, and even of the treasures of the kingdom, at his pleasure. But Edred filled the throne only nine years, and was succeeded by Edwy at the early age of seventeen, who is said to have been endowed with every grace of form, and the utmost firmness and intrepidity of spirit. Dunstan immediately conceived a jealousy of these qualities, and took an early opportunity to endeavour to disarm them. Edwy entertained a passion for a princess of the royal house, and even proceeded to marry her, though within the degrees forbidden by the canon law. The rest of the story exhibits a lively picture of the manners of these barbarous times. Odo, archbishop of Canterbury, the obedient tool of Dunstan, on the day of the coronation obtruded himself with his abettor into the private apartment, to which the king had retired with his queen, only accompanied by her mother; and here the ambitious abbot, after loading Edwy with the bitterest reproaches for his shameless sensuality, thrust him back by main force into the hall, where the nobles of the kingdom were still engaged at their banquet. The spirited young prince conceived a deep resentment of this unworthy treatment, and, seizing an opportunity, called Dunstan to account for malversation in the treasury during the late king's life-time. The priest refused to answer; and the issue was that he was banished the realm. But he left behind him a faithful and implicit coadjutor in archbishop Odo. This prelate is said actually to have forced his way with a party of soldiers into the palace, and, having seized the queen, barbarously to have seared her cheeks with a red-hot iron, and sent her off a prisoner to Ireland. He then proceeded to institute all the forms of a divorce, to which the unhappy king was obliged to submit. Meanwhile the queen, having recovered her beauty, found means to escape, and, crossing the Channel, hastened to join her husband. But here again the priests manifested the same activity as before. They intercepted the queen in her journey, and by the most cruel means undertook to make her a cripple for life. The princess however sunk under the experiment, and ended her existence and her woes together. A rebellion was now excited against the sacrilegious Edwy; and the whole north of England, having rebelled, was placed under the dominion of his brother, a boy of thirteen years of age. In the midst of these adventures Dunstan returned from the continent, and fearlessly shewed himself in his native country. His party was every where triumphant; Odo being dead, he was installed archbishop of Canterbury, and Edwy, oppressed with calamity on every side, sunk to an untimely grave. The rest of the life of Dunstan was passed in comparatively tranquillity. He made and unmade kings as he pleased. Edgar, the successor of Edwy, discovered the happy medium of energy and authority as a sovereign, combined with a disposition to indulge the ambitious policy of the priesthood. He was licentious in his amours, without losing a particle of his ascendancy as a sovereign. He however reigned only a few years; but Dunstan at his death found means to place his eldest son on the throne under his special protection, in defiance of the intrigues of the ambitious Elfrida, the king's second wife, who moved heaven and earth to cause the crown to descend upon her own son, as yet comparatively an infant. In this narrative we are presented with a lively picture of the means by which ambition climbed to its purposes in the darkness of the tenth century. Dunstan was enriched with all those endowments which might seem in any age to lead to the highest distinction. Yet it would appear to have been in vain that he was thus qualified, if he had not stooped to arts that fell in with the gross prejudices of his contemporaries. He had continual recourse to the aid of miracles. He gave into practices of the most rigorous mortification. He studied, and excelled in, all the learning and arts that were then known. But his main dependence was on the art of magic. The story of his taking the devil by the nose with a pair of red-hot tongs, seems to have been of greater service to him than any other single adventure of his life. In other times he might have succeeded in the schemes of his political ambition by seemly and specious means. But it was necessary for him in the times in which he lived, to proceed with eclat, and in a way that should confound all opposers. The utmost resolution was required to overwhelm those who might otherwise have been prompted to contend against him. Hence it appears that he took a right measure of the understanding of his contemporaries, when he dragged the young king from the scene of his retirement, and brought him back by force into the assembly of the nobles. And the inconceivable barbarity practised to the queen, which would have rendered his name horrible in a more civilised age, was exactly calculated to overwhelm the feelings and subject the understandings of the men among whom he lived. The great quality by which he was distinguished was confidence, a frame of behaviour which shewed that he acted from the fullest conviction, and never doubted that his proceedings had the immediate approbation of heaven. COMMUNICATION OF EUROPE AND THE SARACENS It appears to have been about the close of the tenth century that the more curious and inquisitive spirits of Europe first had recourse to the East as a source of such information and art, as they found most glaringly deficient among their countrymen. We have seen that in Persia there was an uninterrupted succession of professors in the art of magic: and, when the followers of Mahomet by their prowess had gained the superiority over the greater part of Asia, over all that was known of Africa, and a considerable tract of Europe, they gradually became awake to the desire of cultivating the sciences, and in particular of making themselves masters of whatever was most liberal and eminent among the disciples of Zoroaster. To this they added a curiosity respecting Greek learning, especially as it related to medicine and the investigation of the powers of physical nature. Bagdad became an eminent seat of learning; and perhaps, next to Bagdad, Spain under the Saracens, or Moors, was a principal abode for the professors of ingenuity and literature. GERBERT, POPE SILVESTER II. As a consequence of this state of things the more curious men of Europe by degrees adopted the practice of resorting to Spain for the purpose of enlarging their sphere of observation and knowledge. Among others Gerbert is reported to have been the first of the Christian clergy, who strung themselves up to the resolution of mixing with the followers of Mahomet, that they might learn from thence things, the knowledge of which it was impossible for them to obtain at home. This generous adventurer, prompted by an insatiable thirst for information, is said to have secretly withdrawn himself from his monastery of Fleury in Burgundy, and to have spent several years among the Saracens of Cordova. Here he acquired a knowledge of the language and learning of the Arabians, particularly of their astronomy, geometry and arithmetic; and he is understood to have been the first that imparted to the north and west of Europe a knowledge of the Arabic numerals, a science, which at first sight might be despised for its simplicity, but which in its consequences is no inconsiderable instrument in subtilising the powers of human intellect. He likewise introduced the use of clocks. He is also represented to have made an extraordinary proficiency in the art of magic; and among other things is said to have constructed a brazen head, which would answer when it was spoken to, and oracularly resolve many difficult questions. [151] The same historian assures us that Gerbert by the art of necromancy made various discoveries of hidden treasures, and relates in all its circumstances the spectacle of a magic palace he visited underground, with the multiplied splendours of an Arabian tale, but distinguished by this feature, that, though its magnificence was dazzling to the sight, it would not abide the test of feeling, but vanished into air, the moment it was attempted to be touched. It happened with Gerbert, as with St. Dunstan, that he united an aspiring mind and a boundless spirit of ambition, with the intellectual curiosity which has already been described. The first step that he made into public life and the career for which he panted, consisted in his being named preceptor, first to Robert, king of France, the son of Hugh Capet, and next to Otho the Third, emperor of Germany. Hugh Capet appointed him archbishop of Rheims; but, that dignity being disputed with him, he retired into Germany, and, becoming eminently a favourite with Otho the Third, he was by the influence of that prince raised, first to be archbishop of Ravenna, and afterwards to the papacy by the name of Silvester the Second. [152] Cardinal Benno, who was an adherent of the anti-popes, and for that reason is supposed to have calumniated Gerbert and several of his successors, affirms that he was habitually waited on by demons, that by their aid he obtained the papal crown, and that the devil to whom he had sold himself, faithfully promised him that he should live, till he had celebrated high mass at Jerusalem. This however was merely a juggle of the evil spirit; and Gerbert actually died, shortly after having officially dispensed the sacrament at the church of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem, which is one of the seven districts of the city of Rome. This event occurred in the year 1008. [153] BENEDICT THE NINTH. According to the same authority sorcery was at this time extensively practised by some of the highest dignitaries of the church, and five or six popes in succession were notorious for these sacrilegious practices. About the same period the papal chair was at its lowest state of degradation; this dignity was repeatedly exposed for sale; and the reign of Gerbert, a man of consummate abilities and attainments, is almost the only redeeming feature in the century in which he lived. At length the tiara became the purchase of an ambitious family, which had already furnished two popes, in behalf of a boy of twelve years of age, who reigned by the name of Benedict the Ninth. This youth, as he grew up, contaminated his rule with every kind of profligacy and debauchery. But even he, according to Benno, was a pupil in the school of Silvester, and became no mean proficient in the arts of sorcery. Among other things he caused the matrons of Rome by his incantations to follow him in troops among woods and mountains, being bewitched and their souls subdued by the irresistible charms of his magic. [154] GREGORY THE SEVENTH. Benno presents us with a regular catalogue of the ecclesiastical sorcerers of this period: Benedict the Ninth, and Laurence, archbishop of Melfi, (each of whom, he says, learned the art of Silvester), John XX and Gregory VI. But his most vehement accusations are directed against Gregory VII, who, he affirms, was in the early part of his career, the constant companion and assistant of these dignitaries in unlawful practices of this sort. Gregory VII, whose original name was Hildebrand, is one of the great champions of the Romish church, and did more than any other man to establish the law of the celibacy of the clergy, and to take the patronage of ecclesiastical dignities out of the hands of the laity. He was eminently qualified for this undertaking by the severity of his manners, and the inflexibility of his resolution to accomplish whatever he undertook. His great adversary was Henry the Fourth, emperor of Germany, a young prince of high spirit, and at that time (1075) twenty-four years of age. Gregory sent to summon him to Rome, to answer an accusation, that he, as all his predecessors had done, being a layman, had conferred ecclesiastical dignities. Henry refused submission, and was immediately declared excommunicated. In retaliation for this offence, the emperor, it is said, gave his orders to a chief of brigands, who, watching his opportunity, seized the pope in the act of saying mass in one of the churches of Rome, and carried him prisoner to a tower in the city which was in the possession of this adventurer. But no sooner was this known, than the citizens of Rome, rose _en masse_, and rescued their spiritual father. Meanwhile Henry, to follow up his blow, assembled a synod at Worms, who pronounced on the pope, that for manifold crimes he was fallen from his supreme dignity, and accordingly fulminated a decree of deposition against him. But Henry had no forces to carry this decree into execution; and Gregory on his side emitted a sentence of degradation against the emperor, commanding the Germans to elect a new emperor in his place. It then became evident that, in this age of ignorance and religious subjugation, the spiritual arm, at least in Germany, was more powerful than the temporal; and Henry, having maturely considered the perils that surrounded him, took the resolution to pass the Alps with a few domestics only, and, repairing to the presence of the pope, submit himself to such penance as the pontiff should impose. Gregory was at this time at Canosa, a fortress beyond Naples, which was surrounded with three walls. Henry, without any attendant, was admitted within the first wall. Here he was required to cast off all the symbols of royalty, to put on a hair-shirt, and to wait barefoot his holiness's pleasure. He stood accordingly, fasting from morn to eve, without receiving the smallest notice from the pontiff. It was in the month of January. He passed through the same trial the second day, and the third. On the fourth day in the morning he was admitted to the presence of the holy father. They parted however more irreconcileable in heart than ever, though each preserved the appearance of good will. The pope insisted that Henry should abide the issue of the congress in Germany, of which he constituted himself president; and the emperor, exasperated at the treatment he had received, resolved to keep no terms with Gregory. Henry proceeded to the election of an anti-pope, Clement the Third, and Gregory patronised a new emperor, Rodolph, duke of Suabia. Henry had however generally been successful in his military enterprises; and he defeated Rodolph in two battles, in the last of which his opponent was slain. In the synod of Brixen, in which Clement the Third was elected, Gregory was sentenced as a magician and a necromancer. The emperor, puffed up with his victories, marched against Rome, and took it, with the exception of the castle of St. Angelo, in which the pope shut himself up; and in the mean time Henry caused the anti-pope, his creature, to be solemnly inaugurated in the church of the Lateran. Gregory however, never dismayed, and never at an end of his expedients, called in the Normans, who had recently distinguished themselves by their victories in Naples and Sicily. Robert Guiscard, a Norman chieftain, drove the Germans out of Rome; but, some altercations ensuing between the pontiff and his deliverer, the city was given up to pillage, and Gregory was glad to take refuge in Salerno, the capital of his Norman ally, where he shortly after expired, an exile and a fugitive. Gregory was no doubt a man of extraordinary resources and invincible courage. He did not live to witness the triumph of his policy; but his projects for the exaltation of the church finally met with every success his most sanguine wishes could have aspired to. In addition to all the rest it happened, that the countess Matilda, a princess who in her own right possessed extensive sovereignties in Italy, nearly commensurate with what has since been styled the ecclesiastical state, transferred to the pope in her life-time, and confirmed by her testament, all these territories, thus mainly contributing to render him and his successors so considerable as temporal princes, as since that time they have appeared. It is, however, as a sorcerer, that Gregory VII (Hildebrand) finds a place in this volume. Benno relates that, coming one day from his Alban villa, he found, just as he was entering the church of the Lateran, that he had left behind him his magical book, which he was ascustomed to carry about his person. He immediately sent two trusty servants to fetch it, at the same time threatening them most fearfully if they should attempt to look into the volume. Curiosity however got the better of their fear. They opened the book, and began to read; when presently a number of devils appeared, saying, "We are come to obey your commands, but, if we find ourselves trifled with, we shall certainly fall upon and destroy you." The servants, exceedingly terrified, replied, "Our will is that you should immediately throw down so much of the wall of the city as is now before us." The devils obeyed; and the servants escaped the danger that hung over them. [155] It is further said, that Gregory was so expert in the arts of magic, that he would throw out lightning by shaking his arm, and dart thunder from his sleeve. [156] But the most conspicuous circumstance in the life of Gregory that has been made the foundation of a charge of necromancy against him, is that, when Rodolph marched against Henry IV, the pope was so confident of his success, as to venture publicly to prophesy, both in speech and in writing, that his adversary should be conquered and perish in this campaign. "Nay," he added, "this prophecy shall be accomplished before St. Peter's day; nor do I desire any longer to be acknowledged for pope, than on the condition that this comes to pass." It is added, that Rodolph, relying on the prediction, six times renewed the battle, in which finally he perished instead of his competitor. But this does not go far enough to substantiate a charge of necromancy. It is further remarked, that Gregory was deep in the pretended science of judicial astrology; and this, without its being necessary to have recourse to the solution of diabolical aid, may sufficiently account for the undoubting certainty with which he counted on the event. In the mean time this statement is of great importance, as illustrative of the spirit of the times in general, and the character of Gregory in particular. Rodolph, the competitor for the empire, has his mind wrought up to such a pitch by this prophetic assurance, that, five times repulsed, he yet led on his forces a sixth time, and perished the victim of his faith. Nor were his followers less animated than he, and from the same cause. We see also from the same story, that Gregory was not an artful and crafty impostor, but a man spurred on by a genuine enthusiasm. And this indeed is necessary to account for the whole of his conduct. The audacity with which he opposed the claims of Henry, and the unheard-of severity with which he treated him at the fortress of Canosa, are to be referred to the same feature of character. Invincible perseverance, when united with great resources of intellect and a lofty spirit, will enable a man thoroughly to effect, what a person of inferior endowments would not have dared so much as to dream of. And Gregory, like St. Dunstan, achieved incredible things, by skilfully adapting himself to circumstances, and taking advantage of the temper and weakness of his contemporaries. DUFF, KING OF SCOTLAND. It is not to be wondered at, when such things occurred in Italy, the principal seat of all the learning and refinement then existing in Europe, that the extreme northerly and western districts should have been given up to the blindest superstition. Among other instances we have the following account in relation to Duff, king of Scotland, who came to the crown about the year 968. He found his kingdom in the greatest disorder from numerous bands of robbers, many of whom were persons of high descent, but of no competent means of subsistence. Duff resolved to put an end to their depredations, and to secure those who sought a quiet support from cultivating the fruits of the earth from forcible invasion. He executed the law against these disturbers without respect of persons, and hence made himself many and powerful enemies. In the midst of his activity however he suddenly fell sick, and became confined to his bed. His physicians could no way account for his distemper. They found no excess of any humour in his body to which they could attribute his illness; his colour was fresh, and his eyes lively; and he had a moderate and healthful appetite. But with all this he was a total stranger to sleep; he burst out into immoderate perspirations; and there was scarcely any thing that remained of him, but skin and bone. In the meantime secret information was brought that all this evil was the result of witchcraft. And, the house being pointed out in which the sorcerers held their sabbath, a band of soldiers was sent to surprise them. The doors being burst open, they found one woman roasting upon a spit by the fire a waxen image of the king, so like in every feature, that no doubt was entertained that it was modelled by the art of the devil, while another sat by, busily engaged in reciting certain verses of enchantment, by which means, as the wax melted, the king was consumed with perspiration, and, as soon as it was utterly dissolved, his death should immediately follow. The witches were seized, and from their own confession burned alive. The image was broken to pieces, and every fragment of it destroyed. And no sooner was this effected, than Duff had all that night the most refreshing and healthful sleep, and the next day rose without any remains of his infirmity. [157] This reprieve however availed him but for a short time. He was no sooner recovered, than he occupied himself as before with pursuing the outlaws, whom he brought indiscriminately to condign punishment. Among these there chanced to be two young men, near relations of the governor of the castle of Fores, who had hitherto been the king's most faithful adherents. These young men had been deluded by ill company: and the governor most earnestly sued to Duff for their pardon. But the king was inexorable. Meanwhile, as he had always placed the most entire trust in their father, he continued to do so without the smallest suspicion. The night after the execution, the king slept in the castle of Fores, as he had often done before; but the governor, conceiving the utmost rancour at the repulse he had sustained, and moreover instigated by his wife, in the middle of the night murdered Duff in his bed, as he slept. His reign lasted only four years. [158] MACBETH. The seventh king of Scotland after Duff, with an interval of sixty-eight years, was Macbeth. The historian begins his tale of witchcraft, towards the end of the reign of Duncan, his predecessor, with observing, "Shortly after happened a strange and uncouth wonder, which afterward was the cause of much trouble in the realm of Scotland. It fortuned, as Macbeth and Banquo journeyed towards Fores, where the king as then lay, they went sporting by the way together, without other company save only themselves, passing through the woods and fields, when suddenly, in the midst of a laund, there met them three women in strange and ferly apparel, resembling creatures of an elder world, whom when they attentively beheld, wondering much at the sight, the first of them spake and said, All hail, Macbeth, thane of Glamis (for he had lately entered into that dignity and office by the death of his father Synel). The second of them said, Hail, Macbeth, thane of Cawdor. But the third said, All hail, Macbeth, that hereafter shall be king of Scotland. Then Banquo, What sort of women, said he, are you, that seem so little favourable unto me, whereas to my fellow here, besides high offices, ye assign also the kingdom, appointing forth nothing for me at all? Yes, saith the first of them, we promise greater benefits unto thee than unto him, for he shall reign indeed, but with an unlucky end, neither shall he leave any issue behind him to succeed in his place; where contrarily thou indeed shall not reign at all, but of thee those shall be born, which shall govern the Scottish kingdom by long order of continual descent. Herewith the foresaid women vanished immediately out of their sight. "This was reputed at the first but some vain fantastical illusion by Macbeth and Banquo, insomuch that Banquo would call Macbeth in jest king of Scotland, and Macbeth again would call him in sport likewise the father of many kings. But afterwards the common opinion was, that these women were either the weird sisters, that is (as you would say) the goddesses of destiny, or else some nymphs or fairies, endued with knowledge of prophecy by their necromantical science, because every thing came to pass as they had spoken. "For shortly after, the thane of Cawdor, being condemned at Fores of treason against the king committed, his lands, livings and offices were given of the king's liberality unto Macbeth." [159] Malcolm, the preceding king of Scotland, had two daughters, one of them the mother of Duncan, and the other of Macbeth; and in virtue of this descent Duncan succeeded to the crown. The accession of Macbeth therefore was not very remote, if he survived the present king. Of consequence Macbeth, though he thought much of the prediction of the weird sisters, yet resolved to wait his time, thinking that, as had happened in his former preferment, this might come to pass without his aid. But Duncan had two sons, Malcolm Cammore and Donald Bane. The law of succession in Scotland was, that, if at the death of the reigning sovereign he that should succeed were not of sufficient age to take on him the government, he that was next of blood to him should be admitted. Duncan however at this juncture created his eldest son Malcolm prince of Cumberland, a title which was considered as designating him heir to the throne. Macbeth was greatly troubled at this, as cutting off the expectation he thought he had a right to entertain: and, the words of the weird sisters still ringing in his ears, and his wife with ambitious speeches urging him to the deed, he, in conjunction with some trusty friends, among whom was Banquo, came to a resolution to kill the king at Inverness. The deed being perpetrated, Malcolm, the eldest son of Duncan, fled for safety into Cumberland, and Donald, the second, into Ireland. [160] Macbeth, who became king of Scotland in the year 1010, reigned for ten years with great popularity and applause, but at the end of that time changed his manner of government, and became a tyrant. His first action in this character was against Banquo. He remembered that the weird sisters had promised to Banquo that he should be father to a line of kings. Haunted with this recollection, Macbeth invited Banquo and his son Fleance to a supper, and appointed assassins to murder them both on their return. Banquo was slain accordingly; but Fleance, under favour of the darkness of the night, escaped. [161] This murder brought Macbeth into great odium, since every man began to doubt of the security of his life, and Macbeth at the same time to fear the ill will of his subjects. He therefore proceeded to destroy all against whom he entertained any suspicion, and every day more and more to steep his hands in blood. Further to secure himself, he built a castle on the top of a high hill, called Dunsinnan, which was placed on such an elevation, that it seemed impossible to approach it in a hostile manner. This work he carried on by means of requiring the thanes of the kingdom, each one in turn, to come with a set of workmen to help forward the edifice. When it came to the turn of Macduff, thane of Fife, he sent workmen, but did not come himself, as the others had done. Macbeth from that time regarded Macduff with an eye of perpetual suspicion. [162] Meanwhile Macbeth, remembering that the origin of his present greatness consisted in the prophecy of the weird sisters, addicted himself continually to the consulting of wizards. Those he consulted gave him a pointed warning to take heed of Macduff, who in time to come would seek to destroy him. This warning would unquestionably have proved fatal to Macduff; had not on the other hand Macbeth been buoyed up in security, by the prediction of a certain witch in whom he had great trust, that he should never be vanquished till the wood of Bernane came to the castle of Dunsinnan, and that he should not be slain by any man that was born of a woman; both which he judged to be impossibilities. [163] This vain confidence however urged him to do many outrageous things; at the same time that such was his perpetual uneasiness of mind, that in every nobleman's house he had one servant or another in fee, that he might be acquainted with every thing that was said or meditated against him. About this time Macduff fled to Malcolm, who had now taken refuge in the court of Edward the Confessor; and Macbeth came with a strong party into Fife with the purpose of surprising him. The master being safe, those within Macduff's castle threw open the gates, thinking that no mischief would result from receiving the king. But Macbeth, irritated that he missed of his prey, caused Macduff's wife and children, and all persons who were found within the castle, to be slain. [164] Shortly after, Malcolm and Macduff, reinforced by ten thousand English under the command of Seyward, earl of Northumberland, marched into Scotland. The subjects of Macbeth stole away daily from him to join the invaders; but he had such confidence in the predictions that had been delivered to him, that he still believed he should never be vanquished. Malcolm meanwhile, as he approached to the castle of Dunsinnan, commanded his men to cut down, each of them, a bough from the wood of Bernane, as large as he could bear, that they might take the tyrant the more by surprise. Macbeth saw, and thought the wood approached him; but he remembered the prophecy, and led forth and marshalled his men. When however the enemy threw down their boughs, and their formidable numbers stood revealed, Macbeth and his forces immediately betook themselves to flight. Macduff pursued him, and was hard at his heels, when the tyrant turned his horse, and exclaimed, "Why dost thou follow me? Know, that it is ordained that no creature born of a woman can ever overcome me." Macduff instantly retorted, "I am the man appointed to slay thee. I was not born of a woman, but was untimely ripped from my mother's womb." And, saying this, he killed him on the spot. Macbeth reigned in the whole seventeen years. [165] VIRGIL. One of the most curious particulars, and which cannot be omitted in a history of sorcery, is the various achievements in the art of magic which have been related of the poet Virgil. I bring them in here, because they cannot be traced further back than the eleventh or twelfth century. The burial-place of this illustrious man was at Pausilippo, near Naples; the Neapolitans had for many centuries cherished a peculiar reverence for his memory; and it has been supposed that the old ballads, and songs of the minstrels of the north of Italy, first originated this idea respecting him. [166] The vulgar of this city, full of imagination and poetry, conceived the idea of treating him as the guardian genius of the place; and, in bodying forth this conception, they represented him in his life-time as gifted with supernatural powers, which he employed in various ways for the advantage of a city that he so dearly loved. Be this as it will, it appears that Gervais of Tilbury, chancellor to Otho the Fourth, emperor of Germany, Helinandus, a Cisterian monk, and Alexander Neckam, all of whom lived about this time, first recorded these particulars in their works. They tell us, that Virgil placed a fly of brass over one of the gates of the city, which, as long as it continued there, that is, for a space of eight years, had the virtue of keeping Naples clear from moskitoes and all noxious insects: that he built a set of shambles, the meat in which was at all times free from putrefaction: that he placed two images over the gates of the city, one of which was named Joyful, and the other Sad, one of resplendent beauty, and the other hideous and deformed, and that whoever entered the town under the former image would succeed in all his undertakings, and under the latter would as certainly miscarry: that he caused a brazen statue to be erected on a mountain near Naples, with a trumpet in his mouth, which when the north wind blew, sounded so shrill as to drive to the sea the fire and smoke which issued from the neighbouring forges of Vulcan: that he built different baths at Naples, specifically prepared for the cure of every disease, which were afterwards demolished by the malice of the physicians: and that he lighted a perpetual fire for the refreshment of all travellers, close to which he placed an archer of brass, with his bow bent, and this inscription, "Whoever strikes me, I will let fly my arrow:" that a fool-hardy fellow notwithstanding struck the statue, when the arrow was immediately shot into the fire, and the fire was extinguished. It is added, that, Naples being infested with a vast multitude of contagious leeches, Virgil made a leech of gold, which he threw into a pit, and so delivered the city from the infection: that he surrounded his garden with a wall of air, within which the rain never fell: that he built a bridge of brass that would transport him wherever he pleased: that he made a set of statues, which were named the salvation of Rome, which had the property that, if any one of the subject nations prepared to revolt, the statue, which bore the name of, and was adored by that nation, rung a bell, and pointed with its finger in the direction of the danger: that he made a head, which had the virtue of predicting things future: and lastly, amidst a world of other wonders, that he cut a subterranean passage through mount Pausilippo, that travellers might pass with perfect safety, the mountain having before been so infested with serpents and dragons, that no one could venture to cross it. ROBERT OF LINCOLN. The most eminent person next, after popes Silvester II and Gregory VII, who labours under the imputation of magic, is Robert Grossetête, or Robert of Lincoln, appointed bishop of that see in the year 1235. He was, like those that have previously been mentioned, a man of the most transcendant powers of mind, and extraordinary acquirements. His parents are said to have been so poor, that he was compelled, when a boy, to engage in the meanest offices for bread, and even to beg on the highway. At length the mayor of Lincoln, struck with his appearance, and the quickness of his answers to such questions as were proposed to him, took him into his family, and put him to school. Here his ardent love of learning, and admirable capacity for acquiring it, soon procured him many patrons, by whose assistance he was enabled to prosecute his studies, first at Cambridge, afterwards at Oxford, and finally at Paris. He was master of the Greek and Hebrew languages, then very rare accomplishments; and is pronounced by Roger Bacon, a very competent judge, of whom we shall presently have occasion to speak, to have spent much of his time, for nearly forty years, in the study of geometry, astronomy, optics, and other branches of mathematical learning, in all of which he much excelled. So that, as we are informed from the same authority, this same Robert of Lincoln, and his friend, Friar Adam de Marisco, were the two most learned men in the world, and excelled the rest of mankind in both human and divine knowledge. This great man especially distinguished himself by his firm and undaunted opposition to the corruptions of the court of Rome. Pope Innocent IV, who filled the papal chair upwards of eleven years, from 1243 to 1254, appears to have exceeded all his predecessors in the shamelessness of his abuses. We are told, that the hierarchy of the church of England was overwhelmed like a flood with an inundation of foreign dignitaries, of whom not a few were mere boys, for the most part without learning, ignorant of the language of the island, and incapable of benefiting the people nominally under their care, the more especially as they continued to dwell in their own countries, and scarcely once in their lives visited the sees to which they had been appointed. [167] Grossetête lifted up his voice against these scandals. He said that it was impossible the genuine apostolic see, which received its authority from the Lord Jesus for edification, and not for destruction, could be guilty of such a crime, for that would forfeit all its glory, and plunge it into the pains of hell. He did not scruple therefore among his most intimate friends to pronounce the reigning pope to be the true Antichrist; and he addressed the pontiff himself in scarcely more measured terms. Among the other accomplishments of bishop Grossetête he is said to have been profoundly skilled in the art of magic: and the old poet Gower relates of him that he made a head of brass, expressly constructed in such a manner as to be able to answer such questions as were propounded to it, and to foretel future events. MICHAEL SCOT. Michael Scot of Balwirie in the county of Fife, was nearly contemporary with bishop Grossetête. He was eminent for his knowledge of the Greek and Arabic languages. He was patronised by the emperor Frederic II, who encouraged him to undertake a translation of the works of Aristotle into Latin. He addicted himself to astrology, chemistry, and the still more frivolous sciences of chiromancy and physiognomy. It does not appear that he made any pretences to magic; but the vulgar, we are told, generally regarded him as a sorcerer, and are said to have carried their superstition so far as to have conceived a terror of so much as touching his works. THE DEAN OF BADAJOZ. There is a story related by this accomplished scholar, in a collection of aphorisms and anecdotes entitled _Mensa Philosophica_, which deserves to be cited as illustrating the ideas then current on the subject of sorcery. A certain great necromancer, or nigromancer, had once a pupil of considerable rank, who professed himself extremely desirous for once to have the gratification of believing himself an emperor. The necromancer, tired with his importunities, at length assented to his prayer. He took measures accordingly, and by his potent art caused his scholar to believe that one province and dignity fell to him after another, till at length his utmost desires became satisfied. The magician however appeared to be still at his elbow; and one day, when the scholar was in the highest exultation at his good fortune, the master humbly requested him to bestow upon him some landed possession, as a reward for the extraordinary benefit he had conferred. The imaginary emperor cast upon the necromancer a glance of the utmost disdain and contempt. "Who are you?" said he, "I really have not the smallest acquaintance with you." "I am he," replied the magician, with withering severity of countenance and tone, "that gave you all these things, and will take them away." And, saying this, the illusion with which the poor scholar had been inebriated, immediately vanished; and he became what he had before been, and no more. The story thus briefly told by Michael Scot, afterwards passed through many hands, and was greatly dilated. In its last form by the abbé Blanchet, it constituted the well known and agreeable tale of the dean of Badajoz. This reverend divine comes to a sorcerer, and intreats a specimen of his art. The magician replies that he had met with so many specimens of ingratitude, that he was resolved to be deluded no more. The dean persists, and at length overcomes the reluctance of the master. He invites his guest into the parlour, and orders his cook to put two partridges to the fire, for that the dean of Badajoz will sup with him. Presently he begins his incantations; and the dean becomes in imagination by turns a bishop, a cardinal, and a pope. The magician then claims his reward. Meanwhile the dean, inflated with his supposed elevation, turns to his benefactor, and says, "I have learned with grief that, under pretence of secret science, you correspond with the prince of darkness. I command you to repent and abjure; and in the mean time I order you to quit the territory of the church in three days, under pain of being delivered to the secular arm, and the rigour of the flames." The sorcerer, having been thus treated, presently dissolves the incantation, and calls aloud to his cook, "Put down but one partridge, the dean of Badajoz does not sup with me to-night." MIRACLE OF THE TUB OF WATER. This story affords an additional example of the affinity between the ancient Asiatic and European legends, so as to convince us that it is nearly impossible that the one should not be in some way borrowed from the other. There is, in a compilation called the Turkish Tales, a story of an infidel sultan of Egypt, who took the liberty before a learned Mahometan doctor, of ridiculing some of the miracles ascribed to the prophet, as for example his transportation into the seventh heaven, and having ninety thousand conferences with God, while in the mean time a pitcher of water, which had been thrown down in the first step of his ascent, was found with the water not all spilled at his return. The doctor, who had the gift of working miracles, told the sultan that, with his consent, he would give him a practical proof of the possibility of the circumstance related of Mahomet. The sultan agreed. The doctor therefore directed that a huge tub of water should be brought in, and, while the prince stood before it with his courtiers around, the holy man bade him plunge his head into the water, and draw it out again. The sultan immersed his head, and had no sooner done so, than he found himself alone at the foot of a mountain on a desert shore. The prince first began to rave against the doctor for this piece of treachery and witchcraft. Perceiving however that all his rage was vain, and submitting himself to the imperiousness of his situation, he began to seek for some habitable tract. By and by he discovered people cutting down wood in a forest, and, having no remedy, he was glad to have recourse to the same employment. In process of time he was brought to a town; and there by great good fortune, after other adventures, he married a woman of beauty and wealth, and lived long enough with her, for her to bear him seven sons and seven daughters. He was afterwards reduced to want, so as to be obliged to ply in the streets as a porter for his livelihood. One day, as he walked alone on the sea-shore, ruminating on his hard fate, he was seized with a fit of devotion, and threw off his clothes, that he might wash himself, agreeably to the Mahometan custom, previously to saying his prayers. He had no sooner however plunged into the sea, and raised his head again above water, than he found himself standing by the side of the tub that had been brought in, with all the great persons of his court round him, and the holy man close at his side. He found that the long series of imaginary adventures he had passed through, had in reality occupied but one minute of time. INSTITUTION OF FRIARS. About this time a great revolution took place in the state of literature in Europe. The monks, who at one period considerably contributed to preserve the monuments of ancient learning, memorably fell off in reputation and industry. Their communities by the donations of the pious grew wealthy; and the monks themselves inhabited splendid palaces, and became luxurious, dissipated and idle. Upon the ruins of their good fame rose a very extraordinary race of men, called Friars. The monks professed celibacy, and to have no individual property; but the friars abjured all property, both private and in common. They had no place where to lay their heads, and subsisted as mendicants upon the alms of their contemporaries. They did not hide themselves in refectories and dormitories, but lived perpetually before the public. In the sequel indeed they built Friaries for their residence; but these were no less distinguished for the simplicity and humbleness of their appearance, than the monasteries were for their grandeur and almost regal magnificence. The Friars were incessant in preaching and praying, voluntarily exposed themselves to the severest hardships, and were distinguished by a fervour of devotion and charitable activity that knew no bounds. We might figure them to ourselves as swallowed up in these duties. But they added to their merits an incessant earnestness in learning and science. A new era in intellect and subtlety of mind began with them; and a set of the most wonderful men in depth of application, logical acuteness, and discoveries in science distinguished this period. They were few indeed, in comparison of the world of ignorance that every where surrounded them; but they were for that reason only the more conspicuous. They divided themselves principally into two orders, the Dominicans and Franciscans. And all that was most illustrious in intellect at this period belonged either to the one or the other. ALBERTUS MAGNUS. Albertus Magnus, a Dominican, was one of the most famous of these. He was born according to some accounts in the year 1193, and according to others in 1205. It is reported of him, that he was naturally very dull, and so incapable of instruction, that he was on the point of quitting the cloister from despair of learning what his vocation required, when the blessed virgin appeared to him in a vision, and enquired of him in which he desired to excel, philosophy or divinity. He chose philosophy; and the virgin assured him that he should become incomparable in that, but, as a punishment for not having chosen divinity, he should sink, before he died, into his former stupidity. It is added that, after this apparition, he had an infinite deal of wit, and advanced in science with so rapid a progress as utterly to astonish the masters. He afterwards became bishop of Ratisbon. It is related of Albertus, that he made an entire man of brass, putting together its limbs under various constellations, and occupying no less than thirty years in its formation. This man would answer all sorts of questions, and was even employed by its maker as a domestic. But what is more extraordinary, this machine is said to have become at length so garrulous, that Thomas Aquinas, being a pupil of Albertus, and finding himself perpetually disturbed in his abstrusest speculations by its uncontrolable loquacity, in a rage caught up a hammer, and beat it to pieces. According to other accounts the man of Albertus Magnus was composed, not of metal, but of flesh and bones like other men; but this being afterwards judged to be impossible, and the virtue of images, rings, and planetary sigils being in great vogue, it was conceived that this figure was formed of brass, and indebted for its virtue to certain conjunctions and aspects of the planets. [168] A further extraordinary story is told of Albertus Magnus, well calculated to exemplify the ideas of magic with which these ages abounded. William, earl of Holland, and king of the Romans, was expected at a certain time to pass through Cologne. Albertus had set his heart upon obtaining from this prince the cession of a certain tract of land upon which to erect a convent. The better to succeed in his application he conceived the following scheme. He invited the prince on his journey to partake of a magnificent entertainment. To the surprise of every body, when the prince arrived, he found the preparations for the banquet spread in the open air. It was in the depth of winter, when the earth was bound up in frost, and the whole face of things was covered with snow. The attendants of the court were mortified, and began to express their discontent in loud murmurs. No sooner however was the king with Albertus and his courtiers seated at table, than the snow instantly disappeared, the temperature of summer shewed itself, and the sun burst forth with a dazzling splendour. The ground became covered with the richest verdure; the trees were clothed at once with foliage, flowers and fruits: and a vintage of the richest grapes, accompanied with a ravishing odour, invited the spectators to partake. A thousand birds sang on every branch. A train of pages shewed themselves, fresh and graceful in person and attire, and were ready diligently to supply the wants of all, while every one was struck with astonishment as to who they were and from whence they came. The guests were obliged to throw off their upper garments the better to cool themselves. The whole assembly was delighted with their entertainment, and Albertus easily gained his suit of the king. Presently after, the banquet disappeared; all was wintry and solitary as before; the snow lay thick upon the ground; and the guests in all haste snatched up the garments they had laid aside, and hurried into the apartments, that by numerous fires on the blazing hearth they might counteract the dangerous chill which threatened to seize on their limbs. [169] ROGER BACON. Roger Bacon, of whom extraordinary stories of magic have been told, and who was about twenty years younger than Albertus, was one of the rarest geniuses that have existed on earth. He was a Franciscan friar. He wrote grammars of the Latin, Greek and Hebrew languages. He was profound in the science of optics. He explained the nature of burning-glasses, and of glasses which magnify and diminish, the microscope and the telescope. He discovered the composition of gunpowder. He ascertained the true length of the solar year; and his theory was afterwards brought into general use, but upon a narrow scale, by Pope Gregory XIII, nearly three hundred years after his death. [170] But for all these discoveries he underwent a series of the most bitter persecutions. It was imputed to him by the superiors of his order that the improvements he suggested in natural philosophy were the effects of magic, and were suggested to him through an intercourse with infernal spirits. They forbade him to communicate any of his speculations. They wasted his frame with rigorous fasting, often restricting him to a diet of bread and water, and prohibited all strangers to have access to him. Yet he went on indefatigably in pursuit of the secrets of nature. [171] At length Clement IV, to whom he appealed, procured him a considerable degree of liberty. But, after the death of that pontiff, he was again put under confinement, and continued in that state for a further period of ten years. He was liberated but a short time before his death. Freind says, [172] that, among other ingenious contrivances, he put statues in motion, and drew articulate sounds from a brazen head, not however by magic, but by an artificial application of the principles of natural philosophy. This probably furnished a foundation for the tale of Friar Bacon and Friar Bungy, which was one of the earliest productions to which the art of printing was applied in England. These two persons are said to have entertained the project of inclosing England with a wall, so as to render it inaccessible to any invader. They accordingly raised the devil, as the person best able to inform them how this was to be done. The devil advised them to make a brazen head, with all the internal structure and organs of a human head. The construction would cost them much time; and they must then wait with patience till the faculty of speech descended upon it. It would finally however become an oracle, and, if the question were propounded to it, would teach them the solution of their problem. The friars spent seven years in bringing the structure to perfection, and then waited day after day, in expectation that it would utter articulate sounds. At length nature became exhausted in them, and they lay down to sleep, having first given it strictly in charge to a servant of theirs, clownish in nature, but of strict fidelity, that he should awaken them the moment the image began to speak. That period arrived. The head uttered sounds, but such as the clown judged unworthy of notice. "Time is!" it said. No notice was taken; and a long pause ensued. "Time was!" A similar pause, and no notice. "Time is passed!" And the moment these words were uttered, a tremendous storm ensued, with thunder and lightning, and the head was shivered into a thousand pieces. Thus the experiment of friar Bacon and friar Bungy came to nothing. THOMAS AQUINAS. Thomas Aquinas, who has likewise been brought under the imputation of magic, was one of the profoundest scholars and subtlest logicians of his day. He also furnishes a remarkable instance of the ascendant which the friars at that time obtained over the minds of ingenuous young men smitten with the thirst of knowledge. He was a youth of illustrious birth, and received the rudiments of his education under the monks of Monte Cassino, and in the university of Naples. But, not contented with these advantages, he secretly entered himself into the society of Preaching Friars, or Dominicans, at seventeen years of age. His mother, being indignant that he should thus take the vow of poverty, and sequester himself from the world for life, employed every means in her power to induce him to alter his purpose, but in vain. The friars, to deliver him from her importunities, removed him from Naples to Terracina, from Terracina to Anagnia, and from Anagnia to Rome. His mother followed him in all these changes of residence, but was not permitted so much as to see him. At length she spirited up his two elder brothers to seize him by force. They waylaid him in his road to Paris, whither he was sent to complete his course of instruction, and carried him off to the castle of Aquino where he had been born. Here he was confined for two years; but he found a way to correspond with the superiors of his order, and finally escaped from a window in the castle. St. Thomas Aquinas (for he was canonised after his death) exceeded perhaps all men that ever existed in the severity and strictness of his metaphysical disquisitions, and thus acquired the name of the Seraphic Doctor. It was to be expected that a man, who thus immersed himself in the depths of thought, should be an inexorable enemy to noise and interruption. We have seen that he dashed to pieces the artificial man of brass, that Albertus Magnus, who was his tutor, had spent thirty years in bringing to perfection, being impelled to this violence by its perpetual and unceasing garrulity. [173] It is further said, that his study being placed in a great thoroughfare, where the grooms were all day long exercising their horses, he found it necessary to apply a remedy to this nuisance. He made by the laws of magic a small horse of brass, which he buried two or three feet under ground in the midst of this highway; and, having done so, no horse would any longer pass along the road. It was in vain that the grooms with whip and spur sought to conquer their repugnance. They were finally compelled to give up the attempt, and to choose another place for their daily exercise. [174] It has further been sought to fix the imputation of magic upon Thomas Aquinas by imputing to him certain books written on that science; but these are now acknowledged to be spurious. [175] PETER OF APONO. Peter of Apono, so called from a village of that name in the vicinity of Padua, where he was born in the year 1250, was an eminent philosopher, mathematician and astrologer, but especially excelled in physic. Finding that science at a low ebb in his native country, he resorted to Paris, where it especially flourished; and after a time returning home, exercised his art with extraordinary success, and by this means accumulated great wealth. But all his fame and attainments were poisoned to him by the accusation of magic. Among other things he was said to possess seven spirits, each of them inclosed in a crystal vessel, from whom he received every information he desired in the seven liberal arts. He was further reported to have had the extraordinary faculty of causing the money he expended in his disbursements, immediately to come back into his own purse. He was besides of a hasty and revengeful temper. In consequence of this it happened to him, that, having a neighbour, who had an admirable spring of water in his garden, and who was accustomed to suffer the physician to send for a daily supply, but who for some displeasure or inconvenience withdrew his permission, Peter d'Apono, by the aid of the devil, removed the spring from the garden in which it had flowed, and turned it to waste in the public street. For some of these accusations he was called to account by the tribunal of the inquisition. While he was upon his trial however, the unfortunate man died. But so unfavourable was the judgment of the inquisitors respecting him, that they decreed that his bones should be dug up, and publicly burned. Some of his friends got intimation of this, and saved him from the impending disgrace by removing his remains. Disappointed in this, the inquisitors proceeded to burn him in effigy. ENGLISH LAW OF HIGH TREASON. It may seem strange that in a treatise concerning necromancy we should have occasion to speak of the English law of high treason. But on reflection perhaps it may appear not altogether alien to the subject. This crime is ordinarily considered by our lawyers as limited and defined by the statute of 25 Edward III. As Blackstone has observed, "By the ancient common law there was a great latitude left in the breast of the judges, to determine what was treason, or not so: whereby the creatures of tyrannical power had opportunity to create abundance of constructive treasons; that is, to raise, by forced and arbitrary constructions, offences into the crime and punishment of treason, which were never suspected to be such. To prevent these inconveniences, the statute of 25 Edward III was made." [176] This statute divides treason into seven distinct branches; and the first and chief of these is, "when a man doth compass or imagine the death of our lord the king." Now the first circumstance that strikes us in this affair is, why the crime was not expressed in more perspicuous and appropriate language? Why, for example, was it not said, that the first and chief branch of treason was to "kill the king?" Or, if that limitation was not held to be sufficiently ample, could it not have been added, it is treason to "attempt, intend, or contrive to kill the king?" We are apt to make much too large an allowance for what is considered as the vague and obsolete language of our ancestors. Logic was the element in which the scholars of what are called the dark ages were especially at home. It was at that period that the description of human geniuses, called the Schoolmen, principally flourished. The writers who preceded the Christian era, possessed in an extraordinary degree the gift of imagination and invention. But they had little to boast on the score of arrangement, and discovered little skill in the strictness of an accurate deduction. Meanwhile the Schoolmen had a surprising subtlety in weaving the web of an argument, and arriving by a close deduction, through a multitude of steps, to a sound and irresistible conclusion. Our lawyers to a certain degree formed themselves on the discipline of the Schoolmen. Nothing can be more forcibly contrasted, than the mode of pleading among the ancients, and that which has characterised the processes of the moderns. The pleadings of the ancients were praxises of the art of oratorical persuasion; the pleadings of the moderns sometimes, though rarely, deviate into oratory, but principally consist in dextrous subtleties upon words, or a nice series of deductions, the whole contexture of which is endeavoured to be woven into one indissoluble substance. Several striking examples have been preserved of the mode of pleading in the reign of Edward II, in which the exceptions taken for the defendant, and the replies supporting the mode of proceeding on behalf of the plaintiff, in no respect fall short of the most admired shifts, quirks and subtleties of the great lawyers of later times. [177] It would be certainly wrong therefore to consider the legal phrase, to "compass or imagine the death of the king," as meaning the same thing as to "kill, or intend to kill" him. At all events we may take it for granted, that to "compass" does not mean to accomplish; but rather to "take in hand, to go about to effect." There is therefore no form of words here forbidding to "kill the king." The phrase, to "imagine," does not appear less startling. What is, to a proverb, more lawless than imagination? Evil into the mind of God or man May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind. What can be more tyrannical, than an inquisition into the sports and freaks of fancy? What more unsusceptible of detection or evidence? How many imperceptible shades of distinction between the guilt and innocence that characterise them!--Meanwhile the force and propriety of these terms will strikingly appear, if we refer them to the popular ideas of witchcraft. Witches were understood to have the power of destroying life, without the necessity of approaching the person whose life was to be destroyed, or producing any consciousness in him of the crime about to be perpetrated. One method was by exposing an image of wax to the action of fire; while, in proportion as the image wasted away, the life of the individual who was the object contrived against, was undermined and destroyed. Another was by incantations and spells. Either of these might fitly be called the "compassing or imagining the death." Imagination is, beside this, the peculiar province of witchcraft. And in these pretended hags the faculty is no longer desultory and erratic. Conscious of their power, they are supposed to have subjected it to system and discipline. They apply its secret and trackless energy with an intentness and a vigour, which ordinary mortals may in vain attempt to emulate in an application of the force of inert matter, or of the different physical powers by means of which such stupendous effects have often been produced.--How universal and familiar then must we consider the ideas of witchcraft to have been before language which properly describes the secret practices of such persons, and is not appropriate to any other, could have been found to insinuate itself into the structure of the most solemn act of our legislature, that act which beyond all others was intended to narrow or shut out the subtle and dangerous inroads of arbitrary power! ZIITO. Very extraordinary things are related of Ziito, a sorcerer, in the court of Wenceslaus, king of Bohemia and afterwards emperor of Germany, in the latter part of the fourteenth century. This is perhaps, all things considered, the most wonderful specimen of magical power any where to be found. It is gravely recorded by Dubravius, bishop of Olmutz, in his History of Bohemia. It was publicly exhibited on occasion of the marriage of Wenceslaus with Sophia, daughter of the elector Palatine of Bavaria, before a vast assembled multitude. The father-in-law of the king, well aware of the bridegroom's known predilection for theatrical exhibitions and magical illusions, brought with him to Prague, the capital of Wenceslaus, a whole waggon-load of morrice-dancers and jugglers, who made their appearance among the royal retinue. Meanwhile Ziito, the favourite magician of the king, took his place obscurely among the ordinary spectators. He however immediately arrested the attention of the strangers, being remarked for his extraordinary deformity, and a mouth that stretched completely from ear to ear. Ziito was for some time engaged in quietly observing the tricks and sleights that were exhibited. At length, while the chief magician of the elector Palatine was still busily employed in shewing some of the most admired specimens of his art, the Bohemian, indignant at what appeared to him the bungling exhibitions of his brother-artist, came forward, and reproached him with the unskilfulness of his performances. The two professors presently fell into warm debate. Ziito, provoked at the insolence of his rival, made no more ado but swallowed him whole before the multitude, attired as he was, all but his shoes, which he objected to because they were dirty. He then retired for a short while to a closet, and presently returned, leading the magician along with him. Having thus disposed of his rival, Ziito proceeded to exhibit the wonders of his art. He shewed himself first in his proper shape, and then in those of different persons successively, with countenances and a stature totally dissimilar to his own; at one time splendidly attired in robes of purple and silk, and then in the twinkling of an eye in coarse linen and a clownish coat of frieze. He would proceed along the field with a smooth and undulating motion without changing the posture of a limb, for all the world as if he were carried along in a ship. He would keep pace with the king's chariot, in a car drawn by barn-door fowls. He also amused the king's guests as they sat at table, by causing, when they stretched out their hands to the different dishes, sometimes their hands to turn into the cloven feet of an ox, and at other times into the hoofs of a horse. He would clap on them the antlers of a deer, so that, when they put their heads out at window to see some sight that was going by, they could by no means draw them back again; while he in the mean time feasted on the savoury cates that had been spread before them, at his leisure. At one time he pretended to be in want of money, and to task his wits to devise the means to procure it. On such an occasion he took up a handful of grains of corn, and presently gave them the form and appearance of thirty hogs well fatted for the market. He drove these hogs to the residence of one Michael, a rich dealer, but who was remarked for being penurious and thrifty in his bargains. He offered them to Michael for whatever price he should judge reasonable. The bargain was presently struck, Ziito at the same time warning the purchaser, that he should on no account drive them to the river to drink. Michael however paid no attention to this advice; and the hogs no sooner arrived at the river, than they turned into grains of corn as before. The dealer, greatly enraged at this trick, sought high and low for the seller that he might be revenged on him. At length he found him in a vintner's shop seemingly in a gloomy and absent frame of mind, reposing himself, with his legs stretched out on a form. The dealer called out to him, but he seemed not to hear. Finally he seized Ziito by one foot, plucking at it with all his might. The foot came away with the leg and thigh; and Ziito screamed out, apparently in great agony. He seized Michael by the nape of the neck, and dragged him before a judge. Here the two set up their separate complaints, Michael for the fraud that had been committed on him, and Ziito for the irreparable injury he had suffered in his person. From this adventure came the proverb, frequent in the days of the historian, speaking of a person who had made an improvident bargain, "He has made just such a purchase as Michael did with his hogs." TRANSMUTATION OF METALS. Among the different pursuits, which engaged the curiosity of active minds in these unenlightened ages, was that of the transmutation of the more ordinary metals into gold and silver. This art, though not properly of necromantic nature, was however elevated by its professors, by means of an imaginary connection between it and astrology, and even between it and an intercourse with invisible spirits. They believed, that their investigations could not be successfully prosecuted but under favourable aspects of the planets, and that it was even indispensible to them to obtain supernatural aid. In proportion as the pursuit of transmutation, and the search after the elixir of immortality grew into vogue, the adepts became desirous of investing them with the venerable garb of antiquity. They endeavoured to carry up the study to the time of Solomon; and there were not wanting some who imputed it to the first father of mankind. They were desirous to track its footsteps in Ancient Egypt; and they found a mythological representation of it in the expedition of Jason after the golden fleece, and in the cauldron by which Medea restored the father of Jason to his original youth. [178] But, as has already been said, the first unquestionable mention of the subject is to be referred to the time of Dioclesian. [179] From that period traces of the studies of the alchemists from time to time regularly discover themselves. The study of chemistry and its supposed invaluable results was assiduously cultivated by Geber and the Arabians. ARTEPHIUS. Artephius is one of the earliest names that occur among the students who sought the philosopher's stone. Of him extraordinary things are told. He lived about the year 1130, and wrote a book of the Art of Prolonging Human Life, in which he professes to have already attained the age of one thousand and twenty-five years. [180] He must by this account have been born about one hundred years after our Saviour. He professed to have visited the infernal regions, and there to have seen Tantalus seated on a throne of gold. He is also said by some to be the same person, whose life has been written by Philostratus under the name of Apollonius of Tyana. [181] He wrote a book on the philosopher's stone, which was published in Latin and French at Paris in the year 1612. RAYMOND LULLI. Among the European students of these interesting secrets a foremost place is to be assigned to Raymond Lulli and Arnold of Villeneuve. Lulli was undoubtedly a man endowed in a very eminent degree with the powers of intellect. He was a native of the island of Majorca, and was born in the year 1234. He is said to have passed his early years in profligacy and dissipation, but to have been reclaimed by the accident of falling in love with a young woman afflicted with a cancer. This circumstance induced him to apply himself intently to the study of chemistry and medicine, with a view to discover a cure for her complaint, in which he succeeded. He afterwards entered into the community of Franciscan friars. Edward the First was one of the most extraordinary princes that ever sat on a throne. He revived the study of the Roman civil law with such success as to have merited the title of the English Justinian. He was no less distinguished as the patron of arts and letters. He invited to England Guido dalla Colonna, the author of the Troy Book, and Raymond Lulli. This latter was believed in his time to have prosecuted his studies with such success as to have discovered the _elixir vitae_, by means of which he could keep off the assaults of old age, at least for centuries, and the philosopher's stone. He is affirmed by these means to have supplied to Edward the First six millions of money, to enable him to carry on war against the Turks. But he was not only indefatigable in the pursuit of natural science. He was also seized with an invincible desire to convert the Mahometans to the Christian faith. For this purpose he entered earnestly upon the study of the Oriental languages. He endeavoured to prevail on different princes of Europe to concur in his plan, and to erect colleges for the purpose, but without success. He at length set out alone upon his enterprise, but met with small encouragement. He penetrated into Africa and Asia. He made few converts, and was with difficulty suffered to depart, under a solemn injunction that he should not return. But Lulli chose to obey God rather than man, and ventured a second time. The Mahometans became exasperated with his obstinacy, and are said to have stoned him to death at the age of eighty years. His body was however transported to his native place; and miracles are reported to have been worked at his tomb. [182] Raymond Lulli is beside famous for what he was pleased to style his Great Art. The ordinary accounts however that are given of this art assume a style of burlesque, rather than of philosophy. He is said to have boasted that by means of it he could enable any one to argue logically on any subject for a whole day together, independently of any previous study of the subject in debate. To the details of the process Swift seems to have been indebted for one of the humorous projects described by him in his voyage to Laputa. Lulli recommended that certain general terms of logic, metaphysics, ethics or theology should first be collected. These were to be inscribed separately upon square pieces of parchment. They were then to be placed on a frame so constructed that by turning a handle they might revolve freely, and form endless combinations. One term would stand for a subject, and another for a predicate. The student was then diligently to inspect the different combinations that fortuitously arose, and exercising the subtlety of his faculties to select such as he should find best calculated for his purposes. He would thus carry on the process of his debate; and an extraordinary felicity would occasionally arise, suggesting the most ingenious hints, and leading on to the most important discoveries. [183]--If a man with the eminent faculties which Lulli otherwise appeared to have possessed really laid down the rules of such an art, all he intended by it must have been to satirize the gravity with which the learned doctors of his time carried on their grave disputations in mood and figure, having regard only to the severity of the rule by which they debated, and holding themselves totally indifferent whether they made any real advances in the discovery of truth. ARNOLD OF VILLENEUVE. Arnold of Villeneuve, who lived about the same time, was a man of eminent attainments. He made a great proficiency in Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic. He devoted himself in a high degree to astrology, and was so confident in his art, as to venture to predict that the end of the world would occur in a few years; but he lived to witness the fallaciousness of his prophecy. He had much reputation as a physician. He appears to have been a bold thinker. He maintained that deeds of charity were of more avail than the sacrifice of the mass, and that no one would be damned hereafter, but such as were proved to afford an example of immoral conduct. Like all the men of these times who were distinguished by the profoundness of their studies, he was accused of magic. For this, or upon a charge of heresy, he was brought under the prosecution of the inquisition. But he was alarmed by the fate of Peter of Apono, and by recantation or some other mode of prudent contrivance was fortunate enough to escape. He is one of the persons to whom the writing of the book, _De Tribus Impostoribus_, Of the Three Impostors (Moses, Jesus Christ and Mahomet) was imputed! [184] ENGLISH LAWS RESPECTING TRANSMUTATION. So great an alarm was conceived about this time respecting the art of transmutation, that an act of parliament was passed in the fifth year of Henry IV, 1404, which lord Coke states as the shortest of our statutes, determining that the making of gold or silver shall be deemed felony. This law is said to have resulted from the fear at that time entertained by the houses of lords and commons, lest the executive power, finding itself by these means enabled to increase the revenue of the crown to any degree it pleased, should disdain to ask aid from the legislature; and in consequence should degenerate into tyranny and arbitrary power. [185] George Ripley, of Ripley in the county of York, is mentioned, towards the latter part of the fifteenth century, as having discovered the philosopher's stone, and by its means contributed one hundred thousand pounds to the knights of Rhodes, the better to enable them to carry on their war against the Turks. [186] About this time however the tide appears to have turned, and the alarm respecting the multiplication of the precious metals so greatly to have abated, that patents were issued in the thirty-fifth year of Henry VI, for the encouragement of such as were disposed to seek the universal medicine, and to endeavour the transmutation of inferior metals into gold. [187] REVIVAL OF LETTERS. While these things were going on in Europe, the period was gradually approaching, when the energies of the human mind were to loosen its shackles, and its independence was ultimately to extinguish those delusions and that superstition which had so long enslaved it. Petrarch, born in the year 1304, was deeply impregnated with a passion for classical lore, was smitten with the love of republican institutions, and especially distinguished himself for an adoration of Homer. Dante, a more sublime and original genius than Petrarch, was his contemporary. About the same time Boccaccio in his Decamerone gave at once to Italian prose that purity and grace, which none of his successors in the career of literature have ever been able to excel. And in our own island Chaucer with a daring hand redeemed his native tongue from the disuse and ignominy into which it had fallen, and poured out the immortal strains that the genuine lovers of the English tongue have ever since perused with delight, while those who are discouraged by its apparent crabbedness, have yet grown familiar with his thoughts in the smoother and more modern versification of Dryden and Pope. From that time the principles of true taste have been more or less cultivated, while with equal career independence of thought and an ardent spirit of discovery have continually proceeded, and made a rapid advance towards the perfect day. But the dawn of literature and intellectual freedom were still a long time ere they produced their full effect. The remnant of the old woman clung to the heart with a tenacious embrace. Three or four centuries elapsed, while yet the belief in sorcery and witchcraft was alive in certain classes of society. And then, as is apt to occur in such cases, the expiring folly occasionally gave tokens of its existence with a convulsive vehemence, and became only the more picturesque and impressive through the strong contrast of lights and shadows that attended its manifestations. JOAN OF ARC. One of the most memorable stories on record is that of Joan of Arc, commonly called the Maid of Orleans. Henry the Fifth of England won the decisive battle of Agincourt in the year 1415, and some time after concluded a treaty with the reigning king of France, by which he was recognised, in case of that king's death, as heir to the throne. Henry V died in the year 1422, and Charles VI of France in less than two months after. Henry VI was only nine months old at the time of his father's death; but such was the deplorable state of France, that he was in the same year proclaimed king in Paris, and for some years seemed to have every prospect of a fortunate reign. John duke of Bedford, the king's uncle, was declared regent of France: the son of Charles VI was reduced to the last extremity; Orleans was the last strong town in the heart of the kingdom which held out in his favour; and that place seemed on the point to surrender to the conqueror. In this fearful crisis appeared Joan of Arc, and in the most incredible manner turned the whole tide of affairs. She was a servant in a poor inn at Domremi, and was accustomed to perform the coarsest offices, and in particular to ride the horses to a neighbouring stream to water. Of course the situation of France and her hereditary king formed the universal subject of conversation; and Joan became deeply impressed with the lamentable state of her country and the misfortunes of her king. By dint of perpetual meditation, and feeling in her breast the promptings of energy and enterprise, she conceived the idea that she was destined by heaven to be the deliverer of France. Agreeably to the state of intellectual knowledge at that period, she persuaded herself that she saw visions, and held communication with the saints. She had conversations with St. Margaret, and St. Catherine of Fierbois. They told her that she was commissioned by God to raise the siege of Orleans, and to conduct Charles VII to his coronation at Rheims. St. Catherine commanded her to demand a sword which was in her church at Fierbois, which the Maid described by particular tokens, though she had never seen it. She then presented herself to Baudricourt, governor of the neighbouring town of Vaucouleurs, telling him her commission, and requiring him to send her to the king at Chinon. Baudricourt at first made light of her application; but her importunity and the ardour she expressed at length excited him. He put on her a man's attire, gave her arms, and sent her under an escort of two gentlemen and their attendants to Chinon. Here she immediately addressed the king in person, who had purposely hid himself behind his courtiers that she might not know him. She then delivered her message, and offered in the name of the Most High to raise the siege of Orleans, and conduct king Charles to Rheims to be anointed. As a further confirmation she is said to have revealed to the king before a few select friends, a secret, which nothing but divine inspiration could have discovered to her. Desperate as was then the state of affairs, Charles and his ministers immediately resolved to seize the occasion that offered, and put forward Joan as an instrument to revive the prostrate courage of his subjects. He had no sooner determined on this, than he pretended to submit the truth of her mission to the most rigorous trial. He called together an assembly of theologians and doctors, who rigorously examined Joan, and pronounced in her favour. He referred the question to the parliament of Poitiers; and they, who met persuaded that she was an impostor, became convinced of her inspiration. She was mounted on a high-bred steed, furnished with a consecrated banner, and marched, escorted by a body of five thousand men, to the relief of Orleans. The French, strongly convinced by so plain an interposition of heaven, resumed the courage to which they had long been strangers. Such a phenomenon was exactly suited to the superstition and credulity of the age. The English were staggered with the rumours that every where went before her, and struck with a degree of apprehension and terror that they could not shake off. The garrison, informed of her approach, made a sally on the other side of the town; and Joan and her convoy entered without opposition. She displayed her standard in the market-place, and was received as a celestial deliverer. She appears to have been endowed with a prudence, not inferior to her courage and spirit of enterprise. With great docility she caught the hints of the commanders by whom she was surrounded; and, convinced of her own want of experience and skill, delivered them to the forces as the dictates of heaven. Thus the knowledge and discernment of the generals were brought into play, at the same time that their suggestions acquired new weight, when falling from the lips of the heaven-instructed heroine. A second convoy arrived; the waggons and troops passed between the redoubts of the English; while a dead silence and astonishment reigned among the forces, so lately enterprising and resistless. Joan now called on the garrison no longer to stand upon the defensive, but boldly to attack the army of the besiegers. She took one redoubt and then another. The English, overwhelmed with amazement, scarcely dared to lift a hand against her. Their veteran generals became spell-bound and powerless; and their soldiers were driven before the prophetess like a flock of sheep. The siege was raised. Joan followed the English garrison to a fortified town which they fixed on as their place of retreat. The siege lasted ten days; the place was taken; and all the English within it made prisoners. The late victorious forces now concentred themselves at Patay in the Orleanois; Joan advanced to meet them. The battle lasted not a moment; it was rather a flight than a combat; Fastolfe, one of the bravest of our commanders, threw down his arms, and ran for his life; Talbot and Scales, the other generals, were made prisoners. The siege of Orleans was raised on the eighth of May, 1429; the battle of Patay was fought on the tenth of the following month. Joan was at this time twenty-two years of age. This extraordinary turn having been given to the affairs of the kingdom, Joan next insisted that the king should march to Rheims, in order to his being crowned. Rheims lay in a direction expressly through the midst of the enemies' garrisons. But every thing yielded to the marvellous fortune that attended upon the heroine. Troyes opened its gates; Chalons followed the example; Rheims sent a deputation with the keys of the city, which met Charles on his march. The proposed solemnity took place amidst the extacies and enthusiastic shouts of his people. It was no sooner over, than Joan stept forward. She said, she had now performed the whole of what God had commissioned her to do; she was satisfied; she intreated the king to dismiss her to the obscurity from which she had sprung. The ministers and generals of France however found Joan too useful an instrument, to be willing to part with her thus early; and she yielded to their earnest expostulations. Under her guidance they assailed Laon, Soissons, Chateau Thierry, Provins, and many other places, and took them one after another. She threw herself into Compiegne, which was besieged by the Duke of Burgundy in conjunction with certain English commanders. The day after her arrival she headed a sally against the enemy; twice she repelled them; but, finding their numbers increase every moment with fresh reinforcements, she directed a retreat. Twice she returned upon her pursuers, and made them recoil, the third time she was less fortunate. She found herself alone, surrounded with the enemy; and after having enacted prodigies of valour, she was compelled to surrender a prisoner. This happened on the twenty-fifth of May, 1430. It remained to be determined what should be the fate of this admirable woman. Both friends and enemies agreed that her career had been attended with a supernatural power. The French, who were so infinitely indebted to her achievements, and who owed the sudden and glorious reverse of their affairs to her alone, were convinced that she was immediately commissioned by God, and vied with each other in reciting the miraculous phenomena which marked every step in her progress. The English, who saw all the victorious acquisitions of Henry V crumbling from their grasp, were equally impressed with the manifest miracle, but imputed all her good-fortune to a league with the prince of darkness. They said that her boasted visions were so many delusions of the devil. They determined to bring her to trial for the tremendous crimes of sorcery and witchcraft. They believed that, if she were once convicted and led out to execution, the prowess and valour which had hitherto marked their progress would return to them, and that they should obtain the same superiority over their disheartened foes. The devil, who had hitherto been her constant ally, terrified at the spectacle of the flames that consumed her, would instantly return to the infernal regions, and leave the field open to English enterprise and energy, and to the interposition of God and his saints. An accusation was prepared against her, and all the solemnities of a public trial were observed. But the proofs were so weak and unsatisfactory, and Joan, though oppressed and treated with the utmost severity, displayed so much acuteness and presence of mind, that the court, not venturing to proceed to the last extremity, contented themselves with sentencing her to perpetual imprisonment, and to be allowed no other nourishment than bread and water for life. Before they yielded to this mitigation of punishment, they caused her to sign with her mark a recantation of her offences. She acknowledged that the enthusiasm that had guided her was an illusion, and promised never more to listen to its suggestions. The hatred of her enemies however was not yet appeased. They determined in some way to entrap her. They had clothed her in a female garb; they insidiously laid in her way the habiliments of a man. The fire smothered in the bosom of the maid, revived at the sight; she was alone; she caught up the garments, and one by one adjusted them to her person. Spies were set upon her to watch for this event; they burst into the apartment. What she had done was construed into no less offence than that of a relapsed heretic; there was no more pardon for such confirmed delinquency; she was brought out to be burned alive in the market-place of Rouen, and she died, embracing a crucifix, and in her last moments calling upon the name of Jesus. A few days more than twelve months, had elapsed between the period of her first captivity and her execution. ELEANOR COBHAM, DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER. This was a period in which the ideas of witchcraft had caught fast hold of the minds of mankind; and those accusations, which by the enlightened part of the species would now be regarded as worthy only of contempt, were then considered as charges of the most flatigious [Errata: _read_ flagitious] nature. While John, duke of Bedford, the eldest uncle of king Henry VI, was regent of France, Humphrey of Gloucester, next brother to Bedford, was lord protector of the realm of England. Though Henry was now nineteen years of age, yet, as he was a prince of slender capacity, Humphrey still continued to discharge the functions of sovereignty. He was eminently endowed with popular qualities, and was a favourite with the majority of the nation. He had however many enemies, one of the chief of whom was Henry Beaufort, great-uncle to the king, and cardinal of Winchester. One of the means employed by this prelate to undermine the power of Humphrey, consisted in a charge of witchcraft brought against Eleanor Cobham, his wife. This woman had probably yielded to the delusions, which artful persons, who saw into the weakness of her character, sought to practise upon her. She was the second wife of Humphrey, and he was suspected to have indulged in undue familiarity with her, before he was a widower. His present duchess was reported to have had recourse to witchcraft in the first instance, by way of securing his wayward inclinations. The duke of Bedford had died in 1435; and Humphrey now, in addition to the actual exercise of the powers of sovereigny, was next heir to the crown in case of the king's decease. This weak and licentious woman, being now duchess of Gloucester, and wife to the lord protector, directed her ambition to the higher title and prerogatives of a queen, and by way of feeding her evil passions, called to her counsels Margery Jourdain, commonly called the witch of Eye, Roger Bolingbroke, an astrologer and supposed magician, Thomas Southwel, canon of St. Stephen's, and one John Hume, or Hun, a priest. These persons frequently met the duchess in secret cabal. They were accused of calling up spirits from the infernal world; and they made an image of wax, which they slowly consumed before a fire, expecting that, as the image gradually wasted away, so the constitution and life of the poor king would decay and finally perish. Hume, or Hun, is supposed to have turned informer, and upon his information several of these persons were taken into custody. After previous examination, on the twenty-fifth of July, 1441, Bolingbroke was placed upon a scaffold before the cross of St. Paul's, with a chair curiously painted, which was supposed to be one of his implements of necromancy, and dressed in mystical attire, and there, before the archbishop of Canterbury, the cardinal of Winchester, and several other bishops, made abjuration of all his unlawful arts. A short time after, the duchess of Gloucester, having fled to the sanctuary at Westminster, her case was referred to the same high persons, and Bolingbroke was brought forth to give evidence against her. She was of consequence committed to custody in the castle of Leeds near Maidstone, to take her trial in the month of October. A commission was directed to the lord treasurer, several noblemen, and certain judges of both benches, to enquire into all manner of treasons, sorceries, and other things that might be hurtful to the king's person, and Bolingbroke and Southwel as principals, and the duchess of Gloucester as accessory, were brought before them. Margery Jourdain was arraigned at the same time; and she, as a witch and relapsed heretic, was condemned to be burned in Smithfield. The duchess of Gloucester was sentenced to do penance on three several days, walking through the streets of London, with a lighted taper in her hand, attended by the lord mayor, the sheriffs, and a select body of the livery, and then to be banished for life to the isle of Man. Thomas Southwel died in prison; and Bolingbroke was hanged at Tyburn on the eighteenth of November. RICHARD III. An event occurred not very long after this, which deserves to be mentioned, as being well calculated to shew how deep an impression ideas of witchcraft had made on the public mind even in the gravest affairs and the counsels of a nation. Richard duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard III, shortly before his usurpation of the crown in 1483, had recourse to this expedient for disarming the power of his enemies, which he feared as an obstacle to his project. Being lord protector, he came abruptly into the assembly of the council that he had left but just before, and suddenly asked, what punishment they deserved who should be found to have plotted against his life, being the person, as nearest akin to the young king, intrusted in chief with the affairs of the nation? And, a suitable answer being returned, he said the persons he accused were the queen-dowager, and Jane Shore, the favourite concubine of the late king, who by witchcraft and forbidden arts had sought to destroy him. And, while he spoke, he laid bare his left arm up to the elbow, which appeared shrivelled and wasted in a pitiable manner. "To this condition," said he, "have these abandoned women reduced me."--The historian adds, that it was well known that his arm had been thus wasted from his birth. In January 1484, the parliament met which recognised the title of Richard, and pronounced the marriage of Edward IV null, and its issue illegitimate. [188] The same parliament passed an act of attainder against Henry earl of Richmond, afterwards Henry VII, the countess of Richmond, his mother, and a great number of other persons, many of them the most considerable adherents of the house of Lancaster. Among these persons are enumerated Thomas Nandick and William Knivet, necromancers. In the first parliament of Henry VII this attainder was reversed, and Thomas Nandick of Cambridge, conjurer, is specially nominated as an object of free pardon. [189] SANGUINARY PROCEEDINGS AGAINST WITCHCRAFT. I am now led to the most painful part of my subject, but which does not the less constitute one of its integral members, and which, though painful, is deeply instructive, and constitutes a most essential branch in the science of human nature. Wherever I could, I have endeavoured to render the topics which offered themselves to my examination, entertaining. When men pretended to invert the known laws of nature, "murdering impossibility; to make what cannot be, slight work;" I have been willing to consider the whole as an ingenious fiction, and merely serving as an example how far credulity could go in setting aside the deductions of our reason, and the evidence of sense. The artists in these cases did not fail to excite admiration, and gain some sort of applause from their contemporaries, though still with a tingling feeling that all was not exactly as it should be, and with a confession that the professors were exercising unhallowed arts. It was like what has been known of the art of acting; those who employed it were caressed and made every where welcome, but were not allowed the distinction of Christian burial. But, particularly in the fifteenth century, things took a new turn. In the dawn of the day of good sense, and when historical evidence at length began to be weighed in the scales of judgment, men became less careless of truth, and regarded prodigies and miracles with a different temper. And, as it often happens, the crisis, the precise passage from ill to better, shewed itself more calamitous, and more full of enormities and atrocity, than the period when the understanding was completely hood-winked, and men digested absurdities and impossibility with as much ease as their every day food. They would not now forgive the tampering with the axioms of eternal truth; they regarded cheat and imposture with a very different eye; and they had recourse to the stake and the faggot, for the purpose of proving that they would no longer be trifled with. They treated the offenders as the most atrocious of criminals, and thus, though by a very indirect and circuitous method, led the way to the total dispersion of those clouds, which hung, with most uneasy operation, on the human understanding. The university of Paris in the year 1398 promulgated an edict, in which they complained that the practice of witchcraft was become more frequent and general than at any former period. [190] A stratagem was at this time framed by the ecclesiastical persecutors, of confounding together the crimes of heresy and witchcraft. The first of these might seem to be enough in the days of bigotry and implicit faith, to excite the horror of the vulgar; but the advocates of religious uniformity held that they should be still more secure of their object, if they could combine the sin of holding cheap the authority of the recognised heads of Christian faith, with that of men's enlisting under the banners of Satan, and becoming the avowed and sworn vassals of his infernal empire. They accordingly seem to have invented the ideas of a sabbath of witches, a numerous assembly of persons who had cast off all sense of shame, and all regard for those things which the rest of the human species held most sacred, where the devil appeared among them in his most forbidding form, and, by rites equally ridiculous and obscene, the persons present acknowledged themselves his subjects. And, having invented this scene, these cunning and mischievous persecutors found means, as we shall presently see, of compelling their unfortunate victims to confess that they had personally assisted at the ceremony, and performed all the degrading offices which should consign them in the world to come to everlasting fire. While I express myself thus, I by no means intend to encourage the idea that the ecclesiastical authorities of these times were generally hypocrites. They fully partook of the narrowness of thought of the period in which they lived. They believed that the sin of heretical pravity was "as the sin of witchcraft;" [191] they regarded them alike with horror, and were persuaded that there was a natural consent and alliance between them. Fully impressed with this conception, they employed means from which our genuine and undebauched nature revolts, to extort from their deluded victims a confession of what their examiners apprehended to be true; they asked them leading questions; they suggested the answers they desired to receive; and led the ignorant and friendless to imagine that, if these answers were adopted, they might expect immediately to be relieved from insupportable tortures. The delusion went round. These unhappy wretches, finding themselves the objects of universal abhorrence, and the hatred of mankind, at length many of them believed that they had entered into a league with the devil, that they had been transported by him through the air to an assembly of souls consigned to everlasting reprobation, that they had bound themselves in acts of fealty to their infernal taskmasters [Errata: _read_ taskmaster], and had received from him in return the gift of performing superhuman and supernatural feats. This is a tremendous state of degradation of what Milton called the "the faultless proprieties of nature," [192] which cooler thinking and more enlightened times would lead us to regard as impossible, but to which the uncontradicted and authentic voice of history compels us to subscribe. The Albigenses and Waldenses were a set of men, who, in the flourishing provinces of Languedoc, in the darkest ages, and when the understandings of human creatures by a force not less memorable than that of Procrustes were reduced to an uniform stature, shook off by some strange and unaccountable freak, the chains that were universally imposed, and arrived at a boldness of thinking similar to that which Luther and Calvin after a lapse of centuries advocated with happier auspices. With these manly and generous sentiments however they combined a considerable portion of wild enthusiasm. They preached the necessity of a community of goods, taught that it was necessary to wear sandals, because sandals only had been worn by the apostles, and devoted themselves to lives of rigorous abstinence and the most severe self-denial. The Catholic church knew no other way in those days of converting heretics, but by fire and sword; and accordingly pope Innocent the Third published a crusade against them. The inquisition was expressly appointed in its origin to bring back these stray sheep into the flock of Christ; and, to support this institution in its operations, Simon Montfort marched a numerous army for the extermination of the offenders. One hundred thousand are said to have perished. They disappeared from the country which had witnessed their commencement, and dispersed themselves in the vallies of Piedmont, in Artois, and in various other places. This crusade occurred in the commencement of the thirteenth century; and they do not again attract the notice of history till the middle of the fifteenth. Monstrelet, in his Chronicle, gives one of the earliest accounts of the proceedings at this time instituted against these unfortunate people, under the date of the year 1459. "In this year," says he, "in the town of Arras, there occurred a miserable and inhuman scene, to which, I know not why, was given the name of _Vaudoisie_. There were taken up and imprisoned a number of considerable persons inhabitants of this town, and others of a very inferior class. These latter were so cruelly put to the torture, that they confessed, that they had been transported by supernatural means to a solitary place among woods, where the devil appeared before them in the form of a man, though they saw not his face. He instructed them in the way in which they should do his bidding, and exacted from them acts of homage and obedience. He feasted them, and after, having put out the lights, they proceeded to acts of the grossest licentiousness." These accounts, according to Monstrelet, were dictated to the victims by their tormentors; and they then added, under the same suggestion, the names of divers lords, prelates, and governors of towns and bailliages, whom they affirmed they had seen at these meetings, and who joined in the same unholy ceremonies. The historian adds, that it cannot be concealed that these accusations were brought by certain malicious persons, either to gratify an ancient hatred, or to extort from the rich sums of money, by means of which they might purchase their escape from further prosecution. The persons apprehended were many of them put to the torture so severely, and for so long a time, and were tortured again and again, that they were obliged to confess what was laid to their charge. Some however shewed so great constancy, that they could by no means be induced to depart from the protestation of their innocence. In fine, many of the poorer victims were inhumanly burned; while the richer with great sums of money procured their discharge, but at the same time were compelled to banish themselves to distant places, remote from the scene of this cruel outrage.--Balduinus of Artois gives a similar account, and adds that the sentence of the judges was brought, by appeal under the revision of the parliament of Paris, and was reversed by that judicature in the year 1491. [193] I have not succeeded in tracing to my satisfaction from the original authorities the dates of the following examples, and therefore shall refer them to the periods assigned them in Hutchinson on Witchcraft. The facts themselves rest for the most part on the most unquestionable authority. Innocent VIII published about the year 1484 a bull, in which he affirms: "It has come to our ears, that numbers of both sexes do not avoid to have intercourse with the infernal fiends, and that by their sorceries they afflict both man and beast; they blight the marriage-bed, destroy the births of women, and the increase of cattle; they blast the corn on the ground, the grapes of the vineyard, the fruits of the trees, and the grass and herbs of the field." For these reasons he arms the inquisitors with apostolic power to "imprison, convict and punish" all such as may be charged with these offences.--The consequences of this edict were dreadful all over the continent, particularly in Italy, Germany and France. Alciatus, an eminent lawyer of this period, relates, that a certain inquisitor came about this time into the vallies of the Alps, being commissioned to enquire out and proceed against heretical women with whom those parts were infested. He accordingly consigned more than one hundred to the flames, every day, like a new holocaust, sacrificing such persons to Vulcan, as, in the judgment of the historian, were subjects demanding rather hellebore than fire; till at length the peasantry of the vicinity rose in arms, and drove the merciless judge out of the country. The culprits were accused of having dishonoured the crucifix, and denying Christ for their God. They were asserted to have solemnised after a detestable way the devil's sabbath, in which the fiend appeared personally among them, and instructed them in the ceremonies of his worship. Meanwhile a question was raised whether they personally assisted on the occasion, or only saw the solemnities in a vision, credible witnesses having sworn that they were at home in their beds, at the very time that they were accused of having taken part in these blasphemies. [194] In 1515, more than five hundred persons are said to have suffered capitally for the crime of witchcraft in the city of Geneva in the course of three months. [195] In 1524, one thousand persons were burned on this accusation in the territory of Como, and one hundred per annum for several year after. [196] Danaeus commences his Dialogue of Witches with this observation. "Within three months of the present time (1575) an almost infinite number of witches have been taken, on whom the parliament of Paris has passed judgment: and the same tribunal fails not to sit daily, as malefactors accused of this crime are continually brought before them out of all the provinces." In the year 1595 Nicholas Remi, otherwise Remigius, printed a very curious work, entitled Demonolatreia, in which he elaborately expounds the principles of the compact into which the devil enters with his mortal allies, and the modes of conduct specially observed by both parties. He boasts that his exposition is founded on an exact observation of the judicial proceedings which had taken place under his eye in the duchy of Lorraine, where for the preceding fifteen years nine hundred persons, more or less, had suffered the extreme penalty of the law for the crime of sorcery. Most of the persons tried seem to have been sufficiently communicative as to the different kinds of menace and compulsion by which the devil had brought them into his terms, and the various appearances he had exhibited, and feats he had performed: but others, says the author, had, "by preserving an obstinate silence, shewn themselves invincible to every species of torture that could be inflicted on them." But the most memorable record that remains to us on the subject of witchcraft, is contained in an ample quarto volume, entitled A Representation (_Tableau_) of the Ill Faith of Evil Spirits and Demons, by Pierre De Lancre, Royal Counsellor in the Parliament of Bordeaux. This man was appointed with one coadjutor, to enquire into certain acts of sorcery, reported to have been committed in the district of Labourt, near the foot of the Pyrenees; and his commission bears date in May, 1609, and by consequence twelve months before the death of Henry the Fourth. The book is dedicated to M. de Silleri, chancellor of France; and in the dedication the author observes, that formerly those who practised sorcery were well known for persons of obscure station and narrow intellect; but that now the sorcerers who confess their misdemeanours, depose, that there are seen in the customary meetings held by such persons a great number of individuals of quality, whom Satan keeps veiled from ordinary gaze, and who are allowed to approach near to him, while those of a poorer and more vulgar class are thrust back to the furthest part of the assembly. The whole narrative assumes the form of a regular warfare between Satan on the one side, and the royal commissioners on the other. At first the devil endeavoured to supply the accused with strength to support the tortures by which it was sought to extort confession from them, insomuch that, in an intermission of the torture, the wretches declared that, presently falling asleep, they seemed to be in paradise, and to enjoy the most beautiful visions. The commissioners however, observing this, took care to grant them scarcely any remission, till they had drawn from them, if possible, an ample confession. The devil next proceeded to stop the mouths of the accused that they might not confess. He leaped on their throats, and evidently caused an obstruction of the organs of speech, so that in vain they endeavoured to relieve themselves by disclosing all that was demanded of them. The historian proceeds to say that, at these sacrilegious assemblings, they now began to murmur against the devil, as wanting power to relieve them in their extremity. The children, the daughters, and other relatives of the victims reproached him, not scrupling to say, "Out upon you! you promised that our mothers who were prisoners should not die; and look how you have kept your word with us! They have been burned, and are a heap of ashes." In answer to this charge the devil stoutly affirmed, that their parents, who seemed to have suffered, were not dead, but were safe in a foreign country, assuring the malcontents that, if they called on them, they would receive an answer. The children called accordingly, and by an infernal illusion an answer came, exactly in the several voices of the deceased, declaring that they were in a state of happiness and security. Further to satisfy the complainers, the devil produced illusory fires, and encouraged the dissatisfied to walk through them, assuring them that the fires lighted by a judicial decree were as harmless and inoffensive as these. The demon further threatened that he would cause the prosecutors to be burned in their own fire, and even proceeded to make them in semblance hover and alight on the branches of the neighbouring trees. He further caused a swarm of toads to appear like a garland to crown the heads of the sufferers, at which when in one instance the bystanders threw stones to drive them away, one monstrous black toad remained to the last uninjured, and finally mounted aloft, and vanished from sight. De Lancre goes on to describe the ceremonies of the sabbath of the devil; and a plate is inserted, presenting the assembly in the midst of their solemnities. He describes in several chapters the sort of contract entered into between the devil and the sorcerers, the marks by which they may be known, the feast with which the demon regaled them, their distorted and monstrous dance, the copulation between the fiend and the witch, and its issue.--It is easy to imagine with what sort of fairness the trials were conducted, when such is the description the judge affords us of what passed at these assemblies. Six hundred were burned under this prosecution. The last chapter is devoted to an accurate account of what took place at an _auto da fe_ in the month of November 1610 at Logrogno on the Ebro in Spain, the victims being for the greater part the unhappy wretches, who had escaped through the Pyrenees from the merciless prosecution that had been exercised against them by the historian of the whole. SAVONAROLA. Jerome Savonarola was one of the most remarkable men of his time, and his fortunes are well adapted to illustrate the peculiarities of that period. He was born in the year 1452 at Ferrara in Italy. He became a Dominican Friar at Bologna without the knowledge of his parents in the twenty-second year of his age. He was first employed by his superiors in elucidating the principles of physics and metaphysics. But, after having occupied some years in this way, he professed to take a lasting leave of these subtleties, and to devote himself exclusively to the study of the Scriptures. In no long time he became an eminent preacher, by the elegance and purity of his style acquiring the applause of hearers of taste, and by the unequalled fervour of his eloquence securing the hearts of the many. It was soon obvious, that, by his power gained in this mode, he could do any thing he pleased with the people of Florence among whom he resided. Possessed of such an ascendancy, he was not contented to be the spiritual guide of the souls of men, but further devoted himself to the temporal prosperity and grandeur of his country. The house of Medici was at this time masters of the state, and the celebrated Lorenzo de Medici possessed the administration of affairs. But the political maxims of Lorenzo were in discord with those of our preacher. Lorenzo sought to concentre all authority in the opulent few; but Savonarola, proceeding on the model of the best times of ancient Rome, endeavoured to vest the sovereign power in the hands of the people. He had settled at Florence in the thirty-fourth year of his age, being invited to become prior of the convent of St. Mark in that city: and such was his popularity, that, four years after, Lorenzo on his death-bed sent for Savonarola to administer to him spiritual consolation. Meanwhile, so stern did this republican shew himself, that he insisted on Lorenzo's renunciation of his absolute power, before he would administer to him the sacrament and absolution: and Lorenzo complied with these terms. The prince being dead, Savonarola stepped immediately into the highest authority. He reconstituted the state upon pure republican principles, and enjoined four things especially in all his public preachings, the fear of God, the love of the republic, oblivion of all past injuries, and equal rights to all for the future. But Savonarola was not contented with the delivery of Florence, where he is said to have produced a total revolution of manners, from libertinism to the most exemplary purity and integrity; he likewise aspired to produce an equal effect on the entire of Italy. Alexander VI, the most profligate of popes, then filled the chair at Rome; and Savonarola thundered against him in the cathedral at Florence the most fearful denunciations. The pope did not hesitate a moment to proceed to extremities against the friar. He cited him to Rome, under pain, if disobeyed, of excommunication to the priest, and an interdict to the republic that harboured him. The Florentines several times succeeded in causing the citation to be revoked, and, making terms with the sovereign pontiff, Jerome again and again suspending his preachings, which were however continued by other friars, his colleagues and confederates. Savonarola meanwhile could not long be silent; he resumed his philippics as fiercely as ever. At this time faction raged strongly at Florence. Jerome had many partisans; all the Dominicans, and the greater part of the populace. But he had various enemies leagued against him; the adherents of the house of Medici, those of the pope, the libertines, and all orders of monks and friars except the Dominicans, The violence proceeded so far, that the preacher was not unfrequently insulted in his pulpit, and the cathedral echoed with the dissentions of the parties. At length a conspiracy was organized against Savonarola; and, his adherents having got the better, the friar did not dare to trust the punishment of his enemies to the general assembly, where the question would have led to a scene of warfare, but referred it to a more limited tribunal, and finally proceeded to the infliction of death on its sole authority. This extremity rendered his enemies more furious against him. The pope directed absolution, the communion, and the rites of sepulture, to be refused to his followers. He was now expelled from the cathedral at Florence, and removed his preachings to the chapel of his convent, which was enlarged in its accommodations to adapt itself to his numerous auditors. In this interim a most extraordinary scene took place. One Francis de Pouille offered himself to the trial of fire, in favour of the validity of the excommunication of the pope against the pretended inspiration and miracles of the prophet. He said he did not doubt to perish in the experiment, but that he should have the satisfaction of seeing Savonarola perish along with him. Dominic de Pescia however and another Dominican presented themselves to the flames instead of Jerome, alledging that he was reserved for higher things. De Pouille at first declined the substitution, but was afterwards prevailed on to submit. A vast fire was lighted in the marketplace for the trial; and a low and narrow gallery of iron passed over the middle, on which the challenger and the challenged were to attempt to effect their passage. But a furious deluge of rain was said to have occurred at the instant every thing was ready; the fire was extinguished; and the trial for the present was thus rendered impossible. Savonarola in the earnestness of his preachings pretended to turn prophet, and confidently to predict future events. He spoke of Charles VIII of France as the Cyrus who should deliver Italy, and subdue the nations before him; and even named the spring of the year 1498 as the period that should see all these things performed. But it was not in prophecy alone that Savonarola laid claim to supernatural aid. He described various contests that he had maintained against a multitude of devils at once in his convent. They tormented in different ways the friars of St. Mark, but ever shrank with awe from his personal interposition. They attempted to call upon him by name; but the spirit of God overruled them, so that they could never pronounce his name aright, but still misplaced syllables and letters in a ludicrous fashion. They uttered terrific threatenings against him, but immediately after shrank away with fear, awed by the holy words and warnings which he denounced against them. Savonarola besides undertook to expel them by night, by sprinkling holy water, and the singing of hymns in a solemn chorus. While however he was engaged in these sacred offices, and pacing the cloister of his convent, the devils would arrest his steps, and suddenly render the air before him so thick, that it was impossible for him to advance further. On another occasion one of his colleagues assured Francis Picus of Mirandola, the writer of his Life, that he had himself seen the Holy Ghost in the form of a dove more than once, sitting on Savonarola's shoulder, fluttering his feathers, which were sprinkled with silver and gold, and, putting his beak to his ear, whispering to him his divine suggestions. The prior besides relates in a book of his own composition at great length a dialogue that he held with the devil, appearing like, and having been mistaken by the writer for, a hermit. The life of Savonarola however came to a speedy and tragical close. The multitude, who are always fickle in their impulses, conceiving an unfavourable impression in consequence of his personally declining the trial by fire, turned against him. The same evening they besieged the convent where he resided, and in which he had taken refuge. The signory, seeing the urgency of the case, sent to the brotherhood, commanding them to surrender the prior, and the two Dominicans who had presented themselves in his stead to the trial by fire. The pope sent two judges to try them on the spot. They were presently put to the torture. Savonarola, who we are told was of a delicate habit of body, speedily confessed and expressed contrition for what he had done. But no sooner was he delivered from the strappado, than he retracted all that he had before confessed. The experiment was repeated several times, and always with the same success. At length he and the other two were adjudged to perish in the flames. This sentence was no sooner pronounced than Savonarola resumed all the constancy of a martyr. He advanced to the place of execution with a steady pace and a serene countenance, and in the midst of the flames resignedly commended his soul into the hands of his maker. His adherents regarded him as a witness to the truth, and piously collected his relics; but his judges, to counteract this defiance of authority, commanded his remains and his ashes to be cast into the river. [197] TRITHEMIUS. A name that has in some way become famous in the annals of magic, is that of John Trithemius, abbot of Spanheim, or Sponheim, in the circle of the Upper Rhine. He was born in the year 1462. He early distinguished himself by his devotion to literature; insomuch that, according to the common chronology, he was chosen in the year 1482, being about twenty years of age, abbot of the Benedictine monastery of St. Martin at Spanheim. He has written a great number of works, and has left some memorials of his life. Learning was at a low ebb when he was chosen to this dignity. The library of the convent consisted of little more than forty volumes. But, shortly after, under his superintendence it amounted to many hundreds. He insisted upon his monks diligently employing themselves in the multiplication of manuscripts. The monks, who had hitherto spent their days in luxurious idleness, were greatly dissatisfied with this revolution, and led their abbot a very uneasy life. He was in consequence removed to preside over the abbey of St. Jacques in Wurtzburg in 1506, where he died in tranquillity and peace in 1516. Trithemius has been accused of necromancy and a commerce with demons. The principal ground of this accusation lies in a story that has been told of his intercourse with the emperor Maximilian. Maximilian's first wife was Mary of Burgundy, whom he lost in the prime of her life. The emperor was inconsolable upon the occasion; and Trithemius, who was called in as singularly qualified to comfort him, having tried all other expedients in vain, at length told Maximilian that he would undertake to place his late consort before him precisely in the state in which she had lived. After suitable preparations, Mary of Burgundy accordingly appeared. The emperor was struck with astonishment. He found the figure before him in all respects like the consort he had lost. At length he exclaimed, "There is one mark by which I shall infallibly know whether this is the same person. Mary, my wife, had a wart in the nape of her neck, to the existence of which no one was privy but myself." He examined, and found the wart there, in all respects as it had been during her life. The story goes on to say, that Maximilian was so disgusted and shocked with what he saw, that he banished Trithemius his presence for ever. This tale has been discredited, partly on the score of the period of the death of Mary of Burgundy, which happened in 1481, when Trithemius was only nineteen years of age. He himself expressly disclaims all imputation of sorcery. One ground of the charge has been placed upon the existence of a work of his, entitled Steganographia, or the art, by means of a secret writing, of communicating our thoughts to a person absent. He says however, that in this work he had merely used the language of magic, without in any degree having had recourse to their modes of proceeding. Trithemius appears to have been the first writer who has made mention of the extraordinary feats of John Faust of Wittenburg, and that in a way that shews he considered these enchantments as the work of a supernatural power. [198] LUTHER. It is particularly proper to introduce some mention of Luther in this place; not that he is in any way implicated in the question of necromancy, but that there are passages in his writings in which he talks of the devil in what we should now think a very extraordinary way. And it is curious, and not a little instructive, to see how a person of so masculine an intellect, and who in many respects so far outran the illumination of his age, was accustomed to judge respecting the intercourse of mortals with the inhabitants of the infernal world. Luther was born in the year 1483. It appears from his Treatise on the Abuses attendant on Private Masses, that he had a conference with the devil on the subject. He says, that this supernatural personage caused him by his visits "many bitter nights and much restless and wearisome repose." Once in particular he came to Luther, "in the dead of the night, when he was just awaked out of sleep. The devil," he goes on to say, "knows well how to construct his arguments, and to urge them with the skill of a master. He delivers himself with a grave, and yet a shrill voice. Nor does he use circumlocutions, and beat about the bush, but excels in forcible statements and quick rejoinders. I no longer wonder," he adds, "that the persons whom he assails in this way, are occasionally found dead in their beds. He is able to compress and throttle, and more than once he has so assaulted me and driven my soul into a corner, that I felt as if the next moment it must leave my body. I am of opinion that Gesner and Oecolampadius and others in that manner came by their deaths. The devil's manner of opening a debate is pleasant enough; but he urges things so peremptorily, that the respondent in a short time knows not how to acquit himself." [199] He elsewhere says, "The reasons why the sacramentarians understood so little of the Scriptures, is that they do not encounter the true opponent, that is, the devil, who presently drives one up in a corner, and thus makes one perceive the just interpretation. For my part I am thoroughly acquainted with him, and have eaten a bushel of salt with him. He sleeps with me more frequently, and lies nearer to me in bed, than my own wife does." [200] CORNELIUS AGRIPPA. Henry Cornelius Agrippa was born in the year 1486. He was one of the most celebrated men of his time. His talents were remarkably great; and he had a surprising facility in the acquisition of languages. He is spoken of with the highest commendations by Trithemius, Erasmus, Melancthon, and others, the greatest men of his times. But he was a man of the most violent passions, and of great instability of temper. He was of consequence exposed to memorable vicissitudes. He had great reputation as an astrologer, and was assiduous in the cultivation of chemistry. He had the reputation of possessing the philosopher's stone, and was incessantly experiencing the privations of poverty. He was subject to great persecutions, and was repeatedly imprisoned. He received invitations at the same time from Henry VIII, from the chancellor of the emperor, from a distinguished Italian marquis, and from Margaret of Austria, governess of the Low Countries. He made his election in favour of the last, and could find no way so obvious of showing his gratitude for her patronage, as composing an elaborate treatise on the Superiority of the Female Sex, which he dedicated to her. Shortly after, he produced a work not less remarkable, to demonstrate the Vanity and Emptiness of Scientifical Acquirements. Margaret of Austria being dead, he was subsequently appointed physician to Louisa of Savoy, mother to Francis I. This lady however having assigned him a task disagreeable to his inclination, a calculation according to the rules of astrology, he made no scruple of turning against her, and affirming that he should henceforth hold her for a cruel and perfidious Jezebel. After a life of storms and perpetual vicissitude, he died in 1534, aged 48 years. He enters however into the work I am writing, principally on account of the extraordinary stories that have been told of him on the subject of magic. He says of himself, in his Treatise on the Vanity of Sciences, "Being then a very young man, I wrote in three books of a considerable size Disquisitions concerning Magic." The first of the stories I am about to relate is chiefly interesting, inasmuch as it is connected with the history of one of the most illustrious ornaments of our early English poetry, Henry Howard earl of Surrey, who suffered death at the close of the reign of King Henry VIII. The earl of Surrey, we are told, became acquainted with Cornelius Agrippa at the court of John George elector of Saxony. On this occasion were present, beside the English nobleman, Erasmus, and many other persons eminent in the republic of letters. These persons shewed themselves enamoured of the reports that had been spread of Agrippa, and desired him before the elector to exhibit something memorable. One intreated him to call up Plautus, and shew him as he appeared in garb and countenance, when he ground corn in the mill. Another before all things desired to see Ovid. But Erasmus earnestly requested to behold Tully in the act of delivering his oration for Roscius. This proposal carried the most votes. And, after marshalling the concourse of spectators, Tully appeared, at the command of Agrippa, and from the rostrum pronounced the oration, precisely in the words in which it has been handed down to us, "with such astonishing animation, so fervent an exaltation of spirit, and such soul-stirring gestures, that all the persons present were ready, like the Romans of old, to pronounce his client innocent of every charge that had been brought against him." The story adds, that, when sir Thomas More was at the same place, Agrippa shewed him the whole destruction of Troy in a dream. To Thomas Lord Cromwel he exhibited in a perspective glass King Henry VIII and all his lords hunting in his forest at Windsor. To Charles V he shewed David, Solomon, Gideon, and the rest, with the Nine Worthies, in their habits and similitude as they had lived. Lord Surrey, in the mean time having gotten into familiarity with Agrippa, requested him by the way side as they travelled, to set before him his mistress, the fair Geraldine, shewing at the same time what she did, and with whom she talked. Agrippa accordingly exhibited his magic glass, in which the noble poet saw this beautiful dame, sick, weeping upon her bed, and inconsolable for the absence of her admirer.--It is now known, that the sole authority for this tale is Thomas Nash, the dramatist, in his Adventures of Jack Wilton, printed in the year 1593. Paulus Jovius relates that Agrippa always kept a devil attendant upon him, who accompanied him in all his travels in the shape of a black dog. When he lay on his death-bed, he was earnestly exhorted to repent of his sins. Being in consequence struck with a deep contrition, he took hold of the dog, and removed from him a collar studded with nails, which formed a necromantic inscription, at the same time saying to him, "Begone, wretched animal, which hast been the cause of my entire destruction!"--It is added, that the dog immediately ran away, and plunged itself in the river Soane, after which it was seen no more. [201] It is further related of Agrippa, as of many other magicians, that he was in the habit, when he regaled himself at an inn, of paying his bill in counterfeit money, which at the time of payment appeared of sterling value, but in a few days after became pieces of horn and worthless shells. [202] But the most extraordinary story of Agrippa is told by Delrio, and is as follows. Agrippa had occasion one time to be absent for a few days from his residence at Louvain. During his absence he intrusted his wife with the key of his Museum, but with an earnest injunction that no one on any account should be allowed to enter. Agrippa happened at that time to have a boarder in his house, a young fellow of insatiable curiosity, who would never give over importuning his hostess, till at length he obtained from her the forbidden key. The first thing in the Museum that attracted his attention, was a book of spells and incantations. He spread this book upon a desk, and, thinking no harm, began to read aloud. He had not long continued this occupation, when a knock was heard at the door of the chamber. The youth took no notice, but continued reading. Presently followed a second knock, which somewhat alarmed the reader. The space of a minute having elapsed, and no answer made, the door was opened, and a demon entered. "For what purpose am I called?" said the stranger sternly. "What is it you demand to have done?" The youth was seized with the greatest alarm, and struck speechless. The demon advanced towards him, seized him by the throat, and strangled him, indignant that his presence should thus be invoked from pure thoughtlessness and presumption. At the expected time Agrippa came home, and to his great surprise found a number of devils capering and playing strange antics about, and on the roof of his house. By his art he caused them to desist from their sport, and with authority demanded what was the cause of this novel appearance. The chief of them answered. He told how they had been invoked, and insulted, and what revenge they had taken. Agrippa became exceedingly alarmed for the consequences to himself of this unfortunate adventure. He ordered the demon without loss of time to reanimate the body of his victim, then to go forth, and to walk the boarder three or four times up and down the market-place in the sight of the people. The infernal spirit did as he was ordered, shewed the student publicly alive, and having done this, suffered the body to fall down, the marks of conscious existence being plainly no more. For a time it was thought that the student had been killed by a sudden attack of disease. But, presently after, the marks of strangulation were plainly discerned, and the truth came out. Agrippa was then obliged suddenly to withdraw himself, and to take up his residence in a distant province. [203] Wierus in his well known book, _De Praestigiis Demonum_, informs us that he had lived for years in daily attendance on Cornelius Agrippa, and that the black dog respecting which such strange surmises had been circulated, was a perfectly innocent animal that he had often led in a string. He adds, that the sole foundation for the story lay in the fact, that Agrippa had been much attached to the dog, which he was accustomed to permit to eat off the table with its master, and even to lie of nights in his bed. He further remarks, that Agrippa was accustomed often not to go out of his room for a week together, and that people accordingly wondered that he could have such accurate information of what was going on in all parts of the world, and would have it that his intelligence was communicated to him by his dog. He subjoins however, that Agrippa had in fact correspondents in every quarter of the globe, and received letters from them daily, and that this was the real source of his extraordinary intelligence. [204] Naudé, in his Apology for Great Men accused of Magic, mentions, that Agrippa composed a book of the Rules and Precepts of the Art of Magic, and that, if such a work could entitle a man to the character of a magician, Agrippa indeed well deserved it. But he gives it as his opinion that this was the only ground for fastening the imputation on this illustrious character. Without believing however any of the tales of the magic practices of Cornelius Agrippa, and even perhaps without supposing that he seriously pretended to such arts, we are here presented with a striking picture of the temper and credulity of the times in which he lived. We plainly see from the contemporary evidence of Wierus, that such things were believed of him by his neighbours; and at that period it was sufficiently common for any man of deep study, of recluse habits, and a certain sententious and magisterial air to undergo these imputations. It is more than probable that Agrippa was willing by a general silence and mystery to give encouragement to the wonder of the vulgar mind. He was flattered by the terror and awe which his appearance inspired. He did not wish to come down to the ordinary level. And if to this we add his pursuits of alchemy and astrology, with the formidable and various apparatus supposed to be required in these pursuits, we shall no longer wonder at the results which followed. He loved to wander on the brink of danger, and was contented to take his chance of being molested, rather than not possess that ascendancy over the ordinary race of mankind which was evidently gratifying to his vanity. FAUSTUS. Next in respect of time to Cornelius Agrippa comes the celebrated Dr. Faustus. Little in point of fact is known respecting this eminent personage in the annals of necromancy. His pretended history does not seem to have been written till about the year 1587, perhaps half a century after his death. This work is apparently in its principal features altogether fictitious. We have no reason however to deny the early statements as to his life. He is asserted by Camerarius and Wierus to have been born at Cundling near Cracow in the kingdom of Poland, and is understood to have passed the principal part of his life at the university of Wittenberg. He was probably well known to Cornelius Agrippa and Paracelsus. Melancthon mentions him in his Letters; and Conrad Gessner refers to him as a contemporary. The author of his Life cites the opinions entertained respecting him by Luther. Philip Camerarius speaks of him in his Horae Subsecivae as a celebrated name among magicians, apparently without reference to the Life that has come down to us; [205] and Wierus does the same thing. [206] He was probably nothing more than an accomplished juggler, who appears to have practised his art with great success in several towns of Germany. He was also no doubt a pretender to necromancy. On this basis the well known History of his Life has been built. The author has with great art expanded very slender materials, and rendered his work in a striking degree a code and receptacle of all the most approved ideas respecting necromancy and a profane and sacrilegious dealing with the devil. He has woven into it with much skill the pretended arts of the sorcerers, and has transcribed or closely imitated the stories that have been handed down to us of many of the extraordinary feats they were said to have performed. It is therefore suitable to our purpose to dwell at some length upon the successive features of this history. The life has been said to have been originally written in Spain by Franciscus Schottus of Toledo, in the Latin language. [207] But this biographical work is assigned to the date of 1594, previously to which the Life is known to have existed in German. It is improbable that a Spanish writer should have chosen a German for the hero of his romance, whereas nothing can be more natural than for a German to have conceived the idea of giving fame and notoriety to his countryman. The mistake seems to be the same, though for an opposite reason, as that which appears to have been made in representing the Gil Blas of Le Sage as a translation. The biographical account professes to have been begun by Faustus himself, though written in the third person, and to have been continued by Wagner, his confidential servant, to whom the doctor is affirmed to have bequeathed his memoirs, letters and manuscripts, together with his house and its furniture. Faustus then, according to his history, was the son of a peasant, residing on the banks of the Roda in the duchy of Weimar, and was early adopted by an uncle, dwelling in the city of Wittenberg, who had no children. Here he was sent to college, and was soon distinguished by the greatness of his talents, and the rapid progress he made in every species of learning that was put before him. He was destined by his relative to the profession of theology. But singularly enough, considering that he is represented as furnishing materials for his own Memoirs, he is said ungraciously to have set at nought his uncle's pious intentions by deriding God's word, and thus to have resembled Cain, Reuben and Absalom, who, having sprung from godly parents, afflicted their fathers' hearts by their apostasy. He went through his examinations with applause, and carried off all the first prizes among sixteen competitors. He therefore obtained the degree of doctor in divinity; but his success only made him the more proud and headstrong. He disdained his theological eminence, and sighed for distinction as a man of the world. He took his degree as a doctor of medicine, and aspired to celebrity as a practitioner of physic. About the same time he fell in with certain contemporaries, of tastes similar to his own, and associated with them in the study of Chaldean, Greek and Arabic science, of strange incantations and supernatural influences, in short, of all the arts of a sorcerer. Having made such progress as he could by dint of study and intense application, he at length resolved to prosecute his purposes still further by actually raising the devil. He happened one evening to walk in a thick, dark wood, within a short distance from Wittenberg, when it occurred to him that that was a fit place for executing his design. He stopped at a solitary spot where four roads met, and made use of his wand to mark out a large circle, and then two small ones within the larger. In one of these he fixed himself, appropriating the other for the use of his expected visitor. He went over the precise range of charms and incantations, omitting nothing. It was now dark night between the ninth and tenth hour. The devil manifested himself by the usual signs of his appearance. "Wherefore am I called?" said he, "and what is it that you demand?" "I require," rejoined Faustus, "that you should sedulously attend upon me, answer my enquiries, and fulfil my behests." Immediately upon Faustus pronouncing these words, there followed a tumult over head, as if heaven and earth were coming together. The trees in their topmost branches bended to their very roots. It seemed as if the whole forest were peopled with devils, making a crash like a thousand waggons, hurrying to the right and the left, before and behind, in every possible direction, with thunder and lightning, and the continual discharge of great cannon. Hell appeared to have emptied itself, to have furnished the din. There succeeded the most charming music from all sorts of instruments, and sounds of hilarity and dancing. Next came a report as of a tournament, and the clashing of innumerable lances. This lasted so long, that Faustus was many times about to rush out of the circle in which he had inclosed himself, and to abandon his preparations. His courage and resolution however got the better; and he remained immoveable. He pursued his incantations without intermission. Then came to the very edge of the circle a griffin first, and next a dragon, which in the midst of his enchantments grinned at him horribly with his teeth, but finally fell down at his feet, and extended his length to many a rood. Faustus persisted. Then succeeded a sort of fireworks, a pillar of fire, and a man on fire at the top, who leaped down; and there immediately appeared a number of globes here and there red-hot, while the man on fire went and came to every part of the circle for a quarter of an hour. At length the devil came forward in the shape of a grey monk, and asked Faustus what he wanted. Faustus adjourned their further conference, and appointed the devil to come to him at his lodgings. He in the mean time busied himself in the necessary preparations. He entered his study at the appointed time, and found the devil waiting for him. Faustus told him that he had prepared certain articles, to which it was necessary that the demon should fully accord,--that he should attend him at all times, when required, for all the days of his life, that he should bring him every thing he wanted, that he should come to him in any shape that Faustus required, or be invisible, and Faustus should be invisible too, whenever he desired it, that he should deny him nothing, and answer him with perfect veracity to every thing he demanded. To some of these requisitions the spirit could not consent, without authority from his master, the chief of devils. At length all these concessions were adjusted. The devil on his part also prescribed his conditions. That Faustus should abjure the Christian religion and all reverence for the supreme God; that he should enjoy the entire command of his attendant demon for a certain term of years, and that at the end of that period the devil should dispose of him body and soul at his pleasure [the term was fixed for twenty-four years]; that he should at all times stedfastly refuse to listen to any one who should desire to convert him, or convince him of the error of his ways, and lead him to repentance; that Faustus should draw up a writing containing these particulars, and sign it with his blood, that he should deliver this writing to the devil, and keep a duplicate of it for himself, that so there might be no misunderstanding. It was further appointed by Faustus that the devil should usually attend him in the habit of cordelier, with a pleasing countenance and an insinuating demeanour. Faustus also asked the devil his name, who answered that he was usually called Mephostophiles (perhaps more accurately Nephostophiles, a lover of clouds). Previously to this deplorable transaction, in which Faustus sold himself, soul and body, to the devil, he had consumed his inheritance, and was reduced to great poverty. But he was now no longer subjected to any straits. The establishments of the prince of Chutz, the duke of Bavaria, and the archbishop of Saltzburgh were daily put under contribution for his more convenient supply. By the diligence of Mephostophiles provisions of all kinds continually flew in at his windows; and the choicest wines were perpetually found at his board to the annoyance and discredit of the cellarers and butlers of these eminent personages, who were extremely blamed for defalcations in which they had no share. He also brought him a monthly supply of money, sufficient for the support of his establishment. Besides, he supplied him with a succession of mistresses, such as his heart desired, which were in truth nothing but devils disguised under the semblance of beautiful women. He further gave to Faustus a book, in which were amply detailed the processes of sorcery and witchcraft, by means of which the doctor could obtain whatever he desired. One of the earliest indulgences which Faustus proposed to himself from the command he possessed over his servant-demon, was the gratification of his curiosity in surveying the various nations of the world. Accordingly Mephostophiles converted himself into a horse, with two hunches on his back like a dromedary, between which he conveyed Faustus through the air where-ever he desired. They consumed fifteen months in their travels. Among the countries they visited the history mentions Pannonia, Austria, Germany, Bohemia, Silesia, Saxony, Misnia, Thuringia, Franconia, Suabia, Bavaria, Lithuania, Livonia, Prussia, Muscovy, Friseland, Holland, Westphalia, Zealand, Brabant, Flanders, France, Spain, Italy, Poland, and Hungary; and afterwards Turkey, Egypt, England, Sweden, Denmark, India, Africa and Persia. In most of these countries Mephostophiles points out to his fellow-traveller their principal curiosities and antiquities. In Rome they sojourned three days and three nights, and, being themselves invisible, visited the residence of the pope and the other principal palaces. At Constantinople Faustus visited the emperor of the Turks, assuming to himself the figure of the prophet Mahomet. His approach was preceded by a splendid illumination, not less than that of the sun in all his glory. He said to the emperor, "Happy art thou, oh sultan, who art found worthy to be visited by the great prophet." And the emperor in return fell prostrate before him, thanking Mahomet for his condescension in this visit. The doctor also entered the seraglio, where he remained six days under the same figure, the building and its gardens being all the time environed with a thick darkness, so that no one, not the emperor himself, dared to enter. At the end of this time the doctor, still under the figure of Mahomet, was publicly seen, ascending, as it seemed, to heaven. The sultan afterwards enquired of the women of his seraglio what had occurred to them during the period of the darkness; and they answered, that the God Mahomet had been with them, that he had enjoyed them corporeally, and had told them that from his seed should arise a great people, capable of irresistible exploits. Faustus had conceived a plan of making his way into the terrestrial paradise, without awakening suspicion in his demon-conductor. For this purpose he ordered him to ascend the highest mountains of Asia. At length they came so near, that they saw the angel with the flaming sword forbidding approach to the garden. Faustus, perceiving this, asked Mephostophiles what it meant. His conductor told him, but added that it was in vain for them, or any one but the angels of the Lord, to think of entering within. Having gratified his curiosity in other ways, Faustus was seized with a vehement desire to visit the infernal regions. He proposed the question to Mephostophiles, who told him that this was a matter out of his department, and that on that journey he could have no other conductor than Beelzebub. Accordingly, every thing being previously arranged, one day at midnight Beelzebub appeared, being already equipped with a saddle made of dead men's bones. Faustus speedily mounted. They in a short time came to an abyss, and encountered a multitude of enormous serpents; but a bear with wings came to their aid, and drove the serpents away. A flying bull next came with a hideous roar, so fierce that Beelzebub appeared to give way, and Faustus tumbled at once heels-over-head into the pit. After having fallen to a considerable depth, two dragons with a chariot came to his aid, and an ape helped him to get into the vehicle. Presently however came on a storm with thunder and lightning, so dreadful that the doctor was thrown out, and sunk in a tempestuous sea to a vast depth. He contrived however to lay hold of a rock, and here to secure himself a footing. He looked down, and perceived a great gulph, in which lay floating many of the vulgar, and not a few emperors, kings, princes, and such as had been mighty lords. Faustus with a sudden impulse cast himself into the midst of the flames with which they were surrounded, with the desire to snatch one of the damned souls from the pit. But, just as he thought he had caught him by the hand, the miserable wretch slided from between his fingers, and sank again. At length the doctor became wholly exhausted with the fatigue he had undergone, with the smoke and the fog, with the stifling, sulphureous air, with the tempestuous blasts, with the alternate extremes of heat and cold, and with the clamours, the lamentations, the agonies, and the howlings of the damned everywhere around him,--when, just in the nick of time, Beelzebub appeared to him again, and invited him once more to ascend the saddle, which he had occupied during his infernal journey. Here he fell asleep, and, when he awoke, found himself in his own bed in his house. He then set himself seriously to reflect on what had passed. At one time he believed that he had been really in hell, and had witnessed all its secrets. At another he became persuaded that he had been subject to an illusion only, and that the devil had led him through an imaginary scene, which was truly the case; for the devil had taken care not to shew him the real hell, fearing that it might have caused too great a terror, and have induced him to repent him of his misdeeds perhaps before it was too late. It so happened that, once upon a time, the emperor Charles V was at Inspruck, at a time when Faustus also resided there. His courtiers informed the emperor that Faustus was in the town, and Charles expressed a desire to see him. He was introduced. Charles asked him whether he could really perform such wondrous feats as were reported of him. Faustus modestly replied, inviting the emperor to make trial of his skill. "Then," said Charles, "of all the eminent personages I have ever read of, Alexander the Great is the man who most excites my curiosity, and whom it would most gratify my wishes to see in the very form in which he lived." Faustus rejoined, that it was out of his power truly to raise the dead, but that he had spirits at his command who had often seen that great conqueror, and that Faustus would willingly place him before the emperor as he required. He conditioned that Charles should not speak to him, nor attempt to touch him. The emperor promised compliance. After a few ceremonies therefore, Faustus opened a door, and brought in Alexander exactly in the form in which he had lived, with the same garments, and every circumstance corresponding. Alexander made his obeisance to the emperor, and walked several times round him. The queen of Alexander was then introduced in the same manner. Charles just then recollected, he had read that Alexander had a wart on the nape of his neck; and with proper precautions Faustus allowed the emperor to examine the apparition by this test. Alexander then vanished. As doctor Faustus waited in court, he perceived a certain knight, who had fallen asleep in a bow-window, with his head out at window. The whim took the doctor, to fasten on his brow the antlers of a stag. Presently the knight was roused from his nap, when with all his efforts he could not draw in his head on account of the antlers which grew upon it. The courtiers laughed exceedingly at the distress of the knight, and, when they had sufficiently diverted themselves, Faustus took off his conjuration, and set the knight at liberty. Soon after Faustus retired from Inspruck. Meanwhile the knight, having conceived a high resentment against the conjuror, waylaid him with seven horsemen on the road by which he had to pass. Faustus however perceived them, and immediately made himself invisible. Meanwhile the knight spied on every side to discover the conjuror; but, as he was thus employed, he heard a sudden noise of drums and trumpets and cymbals, and saw a regiment of horse advancing against him. He immediately turned off in another direction; but was encountered by a second regiment of horse. This occurred no less than six times; and the knight and his companions were compelled to surrender at discretion. These regiments were so many devils; and Faustus now appeared in a new form as the general of this army. He obliged the knight and his party to dismount, and give up their swords. Then with a seeming generosity he gave them new horses and new swords, But this was all enchantment. The swords presently turned into switches; and the horses, plunging into a river on their road, vanished from beneath their riders, who were thoroughly drenched in the stream, and scarcely escaped with their lives. Many of Faustus's delusions are rather remarkable as tricks of merry vexation, than as partaking of those serious injuries which we might look for in an implement of hell. In one instance he inquired of a countryman who was driving a load of hay, what compensation he would judge reasonable for the doctor's eating as much of his hay as he should be inclined to. The waggoner replied, that for half a stiver (one farthing) he should be welcome to eat as much as he pleased. The doctor presently fell to, and ate at such a rate, that the peasant was frightened lest his whole load should be consumed. He therefore offered Faustus a gold coin, value twenty-seven shillings, to be off his bargain. The doctor took it; and, when the countryman came to his journey's end, he found his cargo undiminished even by a single blade. Another time, as Faustus was walking along the road near Brunswick, the whim took him of asking a waggoner who was driving by, to treat him with a ride in his vehicle. "No, I will not," replied the boor; "my horses will have enough to do to drag their proper load." "You churl," said the doctor, "since you will not let your wheels carry me, you shall carry them yourself as far as from the gates of the city." The wheels then detached themselves, and flew through the air, to the gates of the town from which they came. At the same time the horses fell to the ground, and were utterly unable to raise themselves up. The countryman, frightened, fell on his knees to the doctor, and promised, if he would forgive him, never to offend in like manner again. Faustus now, relenting a little, bade the waggoner take a handful of sand from the road, and scatter on his horses, and they would be well. At the same time he directed the man to go to the four gates of Brunswick, and he would find his wheels, one at each gate. In another instance, Faustus went into a fair, mounted on a noble beast, richly caparisoned, the sight of which presently brought all the horse-fanciers about him. After considerable haggling, he at last disposed of his horse to a dealer for a handsome price, only cautioning him at parting, how he rode the horse to water. The dealer, despising the caution that had been given him, turned his horse the first thing towards the river. He had however no sooner plunged in, than the horse vanished, and the rider found himself seated on a saddle of straw, in the middle of the stream. With difficulty he waded to the shore, and immediately, enquiring out the doctor's inn, went to him to complain of the cheat. He was directed to Faustus's room, and entering found the conjuror on his bed, apparently asleep. He called to him lustily, but the doctor took no notice. Worked up beyond his patience, he next laid hold of Faustus's foot, that he might rouse him the more effectually. What was his surprise, to find the doctor's leg and foot come off in his hand! Faustus screamed, apparently in agony of pain, and the dealer ran out of the room as fast as he could, thinking that he had the devil behind him. In one instance three young noblemen applied to Faustus, having been very desirous to be present at the marriage of the son of the duke of Bavaria at Mentz, but having overstaid the time, in which it would have been possible by human means to accomplish the journey. Faustus, to oblige them, led them into his garden, and, spreading a large mantle upon a grass-plot, desired them to step on it, and placed himself in the midst. He then recited a certain form of conjuration. At the same time he conditioned with them, that they should on no account speak to any one at the marriage, and, if spoken to, should not answer again. They were carried invisibly through the air, and arrived in excellent time. At a certain moment they became visible, but were still bound to silence. One of them however broke the injunction, and amused himself with the courtiers. The consequence was that, when the other two were summoned by the doctor to return, he was left behind. There was something so extraordinary in their sudden appearance, and the subsequent disappearance of the others, that he who remained was put in prison, and threatened with the torture the next day, if he would not make a full disclosure. Faustus however returned before break of day, opened the gates of the prison, laid all the guards asleep, and carried off the delinquent in triumph. On one occasion Faustus, having resolved to pass a jovial evening, took some of his old college-companions, and invited them to make free with the archbishop of Saltzburgh's cellar. They took a ladder, and scaled the wall. They seated themselves round, and placed a three-legged stool, with bottles and glasses in the middle. They were in the heart of their mirth, when the butler made his appearance, and began to cry thieves with all his might. The doctor at once conjured him, so that he could neither speak nor move. There he was obliged to sit, while Faustus and his companions tapped every vat in the cellar. They then carried him along with them in triumph. At length they came to a lofty tree, where Faustus ordered them to stop; and the butler was in the greatest fright, apprehending that they would do no less than hang him. The doctor however was contented, by his art to place him on the topmost branch, where he was obliged to remain trembling and almost dead with the cold, till certain peasants came out to their work, whom he hailed, and finally with great difficulty they rescued him from his painful eminence, and placed him safely on the ground. On another occasion Faustus entertained several of the junior members of the university of Wittenberg at his chambers. One of them, referring to the exhibition the doctor had made of Alexander the Great to the emperor Charles V, said it would gratify him above all things, if he could once behold the famous Helen of Greece, whose beauty was so great as to have roused all the princes of her country to arms, and to have occasioned a ten years' war. Faustus consented to indulge his curiosity, provided all the company would engage to be merely mute spectators of the scene. This being promised, he left the room, and presently brought in Helen. She was precisely as Homer has described her, when she stood by the side of Priam on the walls of Troy, looking on the Grecian chiefs. Her features were irresistibly attractive; and her full, moist lips were redder than the summer cherries. Faustus shortly after obliged his guests with her bust in marble, from which several copies were taken, no one knowing the name of the original artist. No long time elapsed after this, when the doctor was engaged in delivering a course of lectures on Homer at Erfurth, one of the principal cities of Germany. It having been suggested to him that it would very much enhance the interest of his lectures, if he would exhibit to the company the heroes of Greece exactly as they appeared to their contemporaries, Faustus obligingly yielded to the proposal. The heroes of the Trojan war walked in procession before the astonished auditors, no less lively in the representation than Helen had been shewn before, and each of them with some characteristic attitude and striking expression of countenance. When the doctor happened to be at Frankfort, there came there four conjurors, who obtained vast applause by the trick of cutting off one another's heads, and fastening them on again. Faustus was exasperated at this proceeding, and regarded them as laying claim to a skill superior to his own. He went, and was invisibly present at their exhibition. They placed beside them a vessel with liquor which they pretended was the elixir of life, into which at each time they threw a plant resembling the lily, which no sooner touched the liquor than its buds began to unfold, and shortly it appeared in full blossom. The chief conjuror watched his opportunity; and, when the charm was complete, made no more ado but struck off the head of his fellow that was next to him, and dipping it in the liquor, adjusted it to the shoulders, where it became as securely fixed as before the operation. This was repeated a second and a third time. At length it came to the turn of the chief conjuror to have his head smitten off. Faustus stood by invisibly, and at the proper time broke off the flower of the lily without any one being aware of it. The head therefore of the principal conjuror was struck off; but in vain was it steeped in the liquor. The other conjurors were at a loss to account for the disappearance of the lily, and fumbled for a long time with the old sorcerer's head, which would not stick on in any position in which it could be placed. Faustus was in great favour with the Prince of Anhalt. On one occasion, after residing some days in his court, he said to the prince, "Will your highness do me the favour to partake of a small collation at a castle which belongs to me out at your city-gates?" The prince graciously consented. The prince and princess accompanied the doctor, and found a castle which Faustus had erected by magic during the preceding night. The castle, with five lofty towers, and two great gates, inclosing a spacious court, stood in the midst of a beautiful lake, stocked with all kinds of fish, and every variety of water-fowl. The court exhibited all sorts of animals, beside birds of every colour and song, which flitted from tree to tree. The doctor then ushered his guests into the hall, with an ample suite of apartments, branching off on each side. In one of the largest they found a banquet prepared, with the pope's plate of gold, which Mephostophiles had borrowed for the day. The viands were of the most delicious nature, with the choicest wines in the world. The banquet being over, Faustus conducted the prince and princess back to the palace. But, before they had gone far, happening to turn their heads, they saw the whole castle blown up, and all that had been prepared for the occasion vanish at once in a vast volume of fire. One Christmas-time Faustus gave a grand entertainment to certain distinguished persons of both sexes at Wittenberg. To render the scene more splendid, he contrived to exhibit a memorable inversion of the seasons. As the company approached the doctor's house, they were surprised to find, though there was a heavy snow through the neighbouring fields, that Faustus's court and garden bore not the least marks of the season, but on the contrary were green and blooming as in the height of summer. There was an appearance of the freshest vegetation, together with a beautiful vineyard, abounding with grapes, figs, raspberries, and an exuberance of the finest fruits. The large, red Provence roses, were as sweet to the scent as the eye, and looked perfectly fresh and sparkling with dew. As Faustus was now approaching the last year of his term, he seemed to resolve to pamper his appetite with every species of luxury. He carefully accumulated all the materials of voluptuousness and magnificence. He was particularly anxious in the selection of women who should serve for his pleasures. He had one Englishwoman, one Hungarian, one French, two of Germany, and two from different parts of Italy, all of them eminent for the perfections which characterised their different countries. As Faustus's demeanour was particularly engaging, there were many respectable persons in the city in which he lived, that became interested in his welfare. These applied to a certain monk of exemplary purity of life and devotion, and urged him to do every thing he could to rescue the doctor from impending destruction. The monk began with him with tender and pathetic remonstrances. He then drew a fearful picture of the wrath of God, and the eternal damnation which would certainly ensue. He reminded the doctor of his extraordinary gifts and graces, and told him how different an issue might reasonably have been expected from him. Faustus listened attentively to all the good monk said, but replied mournfully that it was too late, that he had despised and insulted the Lord, that he had deliberately sealed a solemn compact to the devil, and that there was no possibility of going back. The monk answered, "You are mistaken. Cry to the Lord for grace; and it shall still be given. Shew true remorse; confess your sins; abstain for the future from all acts of sorcery and diabolical interference; and you may rely on final salvation." The doctor however felt that all endeavours would be hopeless, He found in himself an incapacity, for true repentance. And finally the devil came to him, reproached him for breach of contract in listening to the pious expostulations of a saint, threatened that in case of infidelity he would take him away to hell even before his time, and frightened the doctor into the act of signing a fresh contract in ratification of that which he had signed before. At length Faustus ultimately arrived at the end of the term for which he had contracted with the devil. For two or three years before it expired, his character gradually altered. He became subject to fits of despondency, was no longer susceptible of mirth and amusement, and reflected with bitter agony on the close in which the whole must terminate. During the last month of his period, he no longer sought the services of his infernal ally, but with the utmost unwillingness saw his arrival. But Mephostophiles now attended him unbidden, and treated him with biting scoffs and reproaches. "You have well studied the Scriptures," he said, "and ought to have known that your safety lay in worshipping God alone. You sinned with your eyes open, and can by no means plead ignorance. You thought that twenty-four years was a term that would have no end; and you now see how rapidly it is flitting away. The term for which you sold yourself to the devil is a very different thing; and, after the lapse of thousands of ages, the prospect before you will be still as unbounded as ever. You were warned; you were earnestly pressed to repent; but now it is too late." After the demon, Mephostophiles, had long tormented Faustus in this manner, he suddenly disappeared, consigning him over to wretchedness, vexation and despair. The whole twenty-four years were now expired. The day before, Mephostophiles again made his appearance, holding in his hand the bond which the doctor had signed with his blood, giving him notice that the next day, the devil, his master, would come for him, and advising him to hold himself in readiness. Faustus, it seems, had earned himself much good will among the younger members of the university by his agreeable manners, by his willingness to oblige them, and by the extraordinary spectacles with which he occasionally diverted them. This day he resolved to pass in a friendly farewel. He invited a number of them to meet him at a house of public reception, in a hamlet adjoining to the city. He bespoke a large room in the house for a banqueting room, another apartment overhead for his guests to sleep in, and a smaller chamber at a little distance for himself. He furnished his table with abundance of delicacies and wines. He endeavoured to appear among them in high spirits; but his heart was inwardly sad. When the entertainment was over, Faustus addressed them, telling them that this was the last day of his life, reminding them of the wonders with which he had frequently astonished them, and informing them of the condition upon which he had held this power. They, one and all, expressed the deepest sorrow at the intelligence. They had had the idea of something unlawful in his proceedings; but their notions had been very far from coming up to the truth. They regretted exceedingly that he had not been unreserved in his communications at an earlier period. They would have had recourse in his behalf to the means of religion, and have applied to pious men, desiring them to employ their power to intercede with heaven in his favour. Prayer and penitence might have done much for him; and the mercy of heaven was unbounded. They advised him still to call upon God, and endeavour to secure an interest in the merits of the Saviour. Faustus assured them that it was all in vain, and that his tragical fate was inevitable. He led them to their sleeping apartment, and recommended to them to pass the night as they could, but by no means, whatever they might happen to hear, to come out of it; as their interference could in no way be beneficial to him, and might be attended with the most serious injury to themselves. They lay still therefore, as he had enjoined them; but not one of them could close his eyes. Between twelve and one in the night they heard first a furious storm of wind round all sides of the house, as if it would have torn away the walls from their foundations. This no sooner somewhat abated, than a noise was heard of discordant and violent hissing, as if the house was full of all sorts of venomous reptiles, but which plainly proceeded from Faustus's chamber. Next they heard the doctor's room-door vehemently burst open, and cries for help uttered with dreadful agony, but a half-suppressed voice, which presently grew fainter and fainter. Then every thing became still, as if the everlasting motion of the world was suspended. When at length it became broad day, the students went in a body into the doctor's apartment. But he was no where to be seen. Only the walls were found smeared with his blood, and marks as if his brains had been dashed out. His body was finally discovered at some distance from the house, his limbs dismembered, and marks of great violence about the features of his face. The students gathered up the mutilated parts of his body, and afforded them private burial at the temple of Mars in the village where he died. A ludicrous confusion of ideas has been produced by some persons from the similarity of names of Faustus, the supposed magician of Wittenberg, and Faust or Fust of Mentz, the inventor, or first establisher of the art of printing. It has been alleged that the exact resemblance of the copies of books published by the latter, when no other mode of multiplying copies was known but by the act of transcribing, was found to be such, as could no way be accounted for by natural means, and that therefore it was imputed to the person who presented these copies, that he must necessarily be assisted by the devil. It has further been stated, that Faust, the printer, swore the craftsmen he employed at his press to inviolable secrecy, that he might the more securely keep up the price of his books. But this notion of the identity of the two persons is entirely groundless. Faustus, the magician, is described in the romance as having been born in 1491, twenty-five years after the period at which the printer is understood to have died, and there is no one coincidence between the histories of the two persons, beyond the similarity of names, and a certain mystery (or magical appearance) that inevitably adheres to the practice of an art hitherto unknown. If any secret reference had been intended in the romance to the real character of the illustrious introducer of an art which has been productive of such incalculable benefits to mankind, it would be impossible to account for such a marvellous inconsistence in the chronology. Others have carried their scepticism so far, as to have started a doubt whether there was ever really such a person as Faustus of Wittenberg, the alleged magician. But the testimony of Wierus, Philip Camerarius, Melancthon and others, his contemporaries, sufficiently refutes this supposition. The fact is, that there was undoubtedly such a man, who, by sleights of dexterity, made himself a reputation as if there was something supernatural in his performances, and that he was probably also regarded with a degree of terror and abhorrence by the superstitious. On this theme was constructed a romance, which once possessed the highest popularity, and furnished a subject to the dramatical genius of Marlow, Leasing, Goethe, and others.--It is sufficiently remarkable, that the notoriety of this romance seems to have suggested to Shakespear the idea of sending the grand conception of his brain, Hamlet, prince of Denmark, to finish his education at the university of Wittenberg. And here it may not be uninstructive to remark the different tone of the record of the acts of Ziito, the Bohemian, and Faustus of Wittenburg, though little more than half a century elapsed between the periods at which they were written. Dubravius, bishop of Olmutz in Moravia, to whose pen we are indebted for what we know of Ziito, died in the year 1553. He has deemed it not unbecoming to record in his national history of Bohemia, the achievements of this magician, who, he says, exhibited them before Wenceslaus, king of the country, at the celebration of his marriage. A waggon-load of sorcerers arrived at Prague on that occasion for the entertainment of the company. But, at the close of that century, the exploits of Faustus were no longer deemed entitled to a place in national history, but were more appropriately taken for the theme of a romance. Faustus and his performances were certainly contemplated with at least as much horror as the deeds of Ziito. But popular credulity was no longer wound to so high a pitch: the marvels effected by Faustus are not represented as challenging the observation of thousands at a public court, and on the occasion of a royal festival. They "hid their diminished heads," and were performed comparatively in a corner. SABELLICUS. A pretended magician is recorded by Naudé, as living about this time, named Georgius Sabellicus, who, he says, if loftiness and arrogance of assumption were enough to establish a claim to the possession of supernatural gifts, would beyond all controversy be recognised for a chief and consummate sorcerer. It was his ambition by the most sounding appellations of this nature to advance his claim to immortal reputation. He called himself, "The most accomplished Georgius Sabellicus, a second Faustus, the spring and centre of necromantic art, an astrologer, a magician, consummate in chiromancy, and in agromancy, pyromancy and hydromancy inferior to none that ever lived." I mention this the rather, as affording an additional proof how highly Faustus was rated at the time in which he is said to have flourished. It is specially worthy of notice, that Naudé, whose book is a sort of register of all the most distinguished names in the annals of necromancy, drawn up for the purpose of vindicating their honour, now here [Errata: _read_ no where] mentions Faustus, except once in this slight and cursory way. PARACELSUS Paracelsus, or, as he styled himself, Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus Paracelsus de Hohenheim, was a man of great notoriety and eminence, about the same time as Dr. Faustus. He was born in the year 1493, and died in 1541. His father is said to have lived in some repute; but the son early became a wanderer in the world, passing his youth in the occupation of foretelling future events by the stars and by chiromancy, invoking the dead, and performing various operations of alchemy and magic. He states Trithemius to have been his instructor in the science of metals. He was superficial in literature, and says of himself that at one time he did not open a book for ten years together. He visited the mines of Bohemia, Sweden and the East to perfect himself in metallic knowledge. He travelled through Prussia, Lithuania, Poland, Transylvania and Illyria, conversing indifferently with physicians and old women, that he might extract from them the practical secrets of their art. He visited Egypt, Tartary and Constantinople, at which last place, as he says, he learned the transmutation of metals and the philosopher's stone. He boasts also of the elixir of life, by means of which he could prolong the life of man to the age of the antediluvians. He certainly possessed considerable sagacity and a happy spirit of daring, which induced him to have recourse to the application of mercury and opium in the cure of diseases, when the regular physicians did not venture on the use of them. He therefore was successfully employed by certain eminent persons in desperate cases, and was consulted by Erasmus. He gradually increased in fame, and in the year 1526 was chosen professor of natural philosophy and surgery in the university of Bale. Here he delivered lectures in a very bold and presumptuous style. He proclaimed himself the monarch of medicine, and publicly burned the writings of Galen and Avicenna as pretenders and impostors. This however was the acme of his prosperity. His system was extremely popular for one year; but then he lost himself by brutality and intemperance. He had drunk water only for the first five-and-twenty years of his life; but now indulged himself in beastly crapulence with the dregs of society, and scarcely ever took off his clothes by day or night. After one year therefore spent at Bale, he resumed his former vagabond life, and, having passed through many vicissitudes, some of them of the most abject poverty, he died at the age of forty-eight. Paracelsus in fact exhibited in his person the union of a quack, a boastful and impudent pretender, with a considerable degree of natural sagacity and shrewdness. Such an union is not uncommon in the present day; but it was more properly in its place, when the cultivation of the faculties of the mind was more restricted than now, and the law of criticism of facts and evidence was nearly unknown. He took advantage of the credulity and love of wonder incident to the generality of our species; and, by dint of imposing on others, succeeded in no small degree in imposing on himself. His intemperance and arrogance of demeanour gave the suitable finish to his character. He therefore carefully cherished in those about him the idea that there was in him a kind of supernatural virtue, and that he had the agents of an invisible world at his command. In particular he gave out that he held conferences with a familiar or demon, whom for the convenience of consulting he was in the habit of carrying about with him in the hilt of his sword. CARDAN. Jerome Cardan, who was only a few years younger than Paracelsus, was a man of a very different character. He had considerable refinement and discrimination, and ranked among the first scholars of his day. He is however most of all distinguished for the Memoirs he has left us of his life, which are characterised by a frankness and unreserve which are almost without a parallel. He had undoubtedly a considerable spice of madness in his composition. He says of himself, that he was liable to extraordinary fits of abstraction and elevation of mind, which by their intenseness became so intolerable, that he gladly had recourse to very severe bodily pain by way of getting rid of them. That in such cases he would bite his lips till they bled, twist his fingers almost to dislocation, and whip his legs with rods, which he found a great relief to him. That he would talk purposely of subjects which he knew were particularly offensive to the company he was in; that he argued on any side of a subject, without caring whether he was right or wrong; and that he would spend whole nights in gaming, often venturing as the stake he played for, the furniture of his house, and his wife's jewels. Cardan describes three things of himself, which he habitually experienced, but respecting which he had never unbosomed himself to any of his friends. The first was, a capacity which he felt in himself of abandoning his body in a sort of extacy whenever he pleased. He felt in these cases a sort of splitting of the heart, as if his soul was about to withdraw, the sensation spreading over his whole frame, like the opening of a door for the dismissal of its guest. His apprehension was, that he was out of his body, and that by an energetic exertion he still retained a small hold of his corporeal figure. The second of his peculiarities was, that he saw, when he pleased, whatever he desired to see, not through the force of imagination, but with his material organs: he saw groves, animals, orbs, as he willed. When he was a child, he saw these things, as they occurred, without any previous volition or anticipation that such a thing was about to happen. But, after he had arrived at years of maturity, he saw them only when he desired, and such things as he desired. These images were in perpetual succession, one after another. The thing incidental to him which he mentions in the third place was, that he could not recollect any thing that ever happened to him, whether good, ill, or indifferent, of which he had not been admonished, and that a very short time before, in a dream. These things serve to shew of what importance he was in his own eyes, and also, which is the matter he principally brings it to prove, the subtlety and delicacy of his animal nature. Cardan speaks uncertainly and contradictorily as to his having a genius or demon perpetually attending him, advising him of what was to happen, and forewarning him of sinister events. He concludes however that he had no such attendant, but that it was the excellence of his nature, approaching to immortality. He was much addicted to the study of astrology, and laid claim to great skill as a physician. He visited the court of London, and calculated the nativity of king Edward VI. He was sent for as a physician by cardinal Beaton, archbishop of St Andrews, whom, according to Melvile, [208] he recovered to speech and health, and the historian appears to attribute the cure to magic. He calculated the nativity of Jesus Christ, which was imputed to him as an impious undertaking, inasmuch as it supposed the creator of the world to be subject to the influence of the stars. He also predicted his own death, and is supposed by some to have forwarded that event, by abstinence from food at the age of seventy-five, that he might not bely his prediction. QUACKS, WHO IN COOL BLOOD UNDERTOOK TO OVERREACH MANKIND. Hitherto we have principally passed such persons in review, as seem to have been in part at least the victims of their own delusions. But beside these there has always been a numerous class of men, who, with minds perfectly disengaged and free, have applied themselves to concert the means of overreaching the simplicity, or baffling the penetration, of those who were merely spectators, and uninitiated in the mystery of the arts that were practised upon them. Such was no doubt the case with the speaking heads and statues, which were sometimes exhibited in the ancient oracles. Such was the case with certain optical delusions, which were practised on the unsuspecting, and were contrived to produce on them the effect of supernatural revelations. Such is the story of Bel and the Dragon in the book of Apocrypha, where the priests daily placed before the idol twelve measures of flour, and forty sheep, and six vessels of wine, pretending that the idol consumed all these provisions, when in fact they entered the temple by night, by a door under the altar, and removed them. BENVENUTO CELLINI. We have a story minutely related by Benvenuto Cellini in his Life, which it is now known was produced by optical delusion, but which was imposed upon the artist and his companions as altogether supernatural. It occurred a very short time before the death of pope Clement the Seventh in 1534, and is thus detailed. It took place in the Coliseum at Rome. "It came to pass through a variety of odd accidents, that I made acquaintance with a Sicilian priest, who was a man of genius, and well versed in the Greek and Latin languages. Happening one day to have some conversation with him, where the subject turned upon the art of necromancy, I, who had a great desire to know something of the matter, told him, that I had all my life had a curiosity to be acquainted with the mysteries of this art. The priest made answer, that the man must be of a resolute and steady temper, who entered on that study. I replied, that I had fortitude and resolution enough to desire to be initiated in it. The priest subjoined, 'If you think you have the heart to venture, I will give you all the satisfaction you can desire.' Thus we agreed to enter upon a scheme of necromancy. "The priest one evening prepared to satisfy me, and desired me to look for a companion or two. I invited one Vincenzio Romoli, who was my intimate acquaintance, and he brought with him a native of Pistoia who cultivated the art of necromancy himself. We repaired to the Coliseum; and the priest, according to the custom of conjurors, began to draw circles on the ground, with the most impressive ceremonies imaginable. He likewise brought with him all sorts of precious perfumes and fire, with some compositions which diffused noisome and bad odours. As soon as he was in readiness, he made an opening to the circle, and took us by the hand, and ordered the other necromancer, his partner, to throw perfumes into the fire at a proper time, intrusting the care of the fire and the perfumes to the rest; and then he began his incantations. "This ceremony lasted above an hour and a half, when there appeared several legions of devils, so that the amphitheatre was quite filled with them. I was busy about the perfumes, when the priest, who knew that there was a sufficient number of infernal spirits, turned about to me, and said, 'Benvenuto, ask them something.' I answered, 'Let them bring me into company with my Sicilian mistress, Angelica.' That night we obtained no answer of any sort; but I received great satisfaction in having my curiosity so far indulged. "The necromancer told me that it was requisite we should go a second time, assuring me that I should be satisfied in whatever I asked; but that I must bring with me a boy that had never known woman. I took with me my apprentice, who was about twelve years of age; with the same Vincenzio Romoli, who had been my companion the first time, and one Agnolino Gaddi, an intimate acquaintance, whom I likewise prevailed on to assist at the ceremony. When we came to the place appointed, the priest, having made his preparations as before with the same and even more striking ceremonies, placed us within the circle, which he had drawn with a more wonderful art and in a more solemn manner, than at our former meeting. Thus having committed the care of the perfumes and the fire to my friend Vincenzio, who was assisted by Gaddi, he put into my hands a pintacolo, or magical chart, and bid me turn it towards the places to which he should direct me; and under the pintacolo I held my apprentice. The necromancer, having begun to make his most tremendous invocations, called by their names a multitude of demons who were the leaders of the several legions, and questioned them, by the virtue and power of the eternal, uncreated God, who lives for ever, in the Hebrew language, as also in Latin and Greek; insomuch that the amphitheatre was filled, almost in an instant, with demons a hundred times more numerous than at the former conjuration. Vincenzio meanwhile was busied in making a fire with the assistance of Gaddi, and burning a great quantity of precious perfumes. I, by the direction of the necromancer, again desired to be in company with my Angelica. He then turning upon me said, 'Know, they have declared that in the space of a month you shall be in her company.' "He then requested me to stand by him resolutely, because the legions were now above a thousand more in number than he had designed; and besides these were the most dangerous; so that, after they had answered my question, it behoved him to be civil to them, and dismiss them quietly. At the same time the boy under the pintacolo was in a terrible fright, saying, that there were in the place a million of fierce men who threatened to destroy us; and that, besides, there were four armed giants of enormous stature, who endeavoured to break into our circle. During this time, while the necromancer, trembling with fear, endeavoured by mild means to dismiss them in the best way he could, Vincenzio, who quivered like an aspen leaf, took care of the perfumes. Though I was as much afraid as any of them, I did my utmost to conceal it; so that I greatly contributed to inspire the rest with resolution; but the truth is, I gave myself over for a dead man, seeing the horrid fright the necromancer was in. "The boy had placed his head between his knees; and said, 'In this attitude will I die; for we shall all surely perish.' I told him that those demons were under us, and what he saw was smoke and shadow; so bid him hold up his head and take courage. No sooner did he look up, than he cried out, 'The whole amphitheatre is burning, and the fire is just falling on us.' So, covering his eyes with his hands, he again exclaimed, that destruction was inevitable, and he desired to see no more. The necromancer intreated me to have a good heart, and to take care to burn proper perfumes; upon which I turned to Vincenzio, and bade him burn all the most precious perfumes he had. At the same time I cast my eyes upon Gaddi, who was terrified to such a degree, that he could scarcely distinguish objects, and seemed to be half dead. Seeing him in this condition, I said to him, 'Gaddi, upon these occasions a man should not yield to fear, but stir about to give some assistance; so come directly, and put on more of these perfumes.' Gaddi accordingly attempted to move; but the effect was annoying both to our sense of hearing and smell, and overcame the perfumes. "The boy perceiving this, once more ventured to raise his head, and, seeing me laugh, began to take courage, and said, 'The devils are flying away with a vengeance.' In this condition we staid, till the bell rang for morning prayers. The boy again told us, that there remained but few devils, and those were at a great distance. When the magician had performed the rest of his ceremonies, he stripped off his gown, and took up a wallet full of books, which he had brought with him. We all went out of the circle together, keeping as close to each other as we possibly could, especially the boy, who placed himself in the middle, holding the necromancer by the coat, and me by the cloak. "As we were going to our houses in the quarter of Banchi, the boy told us, that two of the demons whom we had seen at the amphitheatre, went on before us leaping and skipping, sometimes running upon the roofs of the houses, and sometimes on the ground. The priest declared that, as often as he had entered magic circles, nothing so extraordinary had ever happened to him. As we went along, he would fain have persuaded me to assist at the consecrating a book, from which he said we should derive immense riches. We should then ask the demons to discover to us the various treasures with which the earth abounds, which would raise us to opulence and power; but that those love-affairs were mere follies from which no good could be expected. I made answer, that I would readily have accepted his proposal if I had understood Latin. He assured me that the knowledge of Latin was nowise material; but that he could never meet with a partner of resolution and intrepidity equal to mine, and that that would be to him an invaluable acquisition." Immediately subsequent to this scene, Cellini got into one of those scrapes, in which he was so frequently involved by his own violence and ferocity; and the connection was never again renewed. The first remark that arises out of this narrative is, that nothing is actually done by the supernatural personages which are exhibited. The magician reports certain answers as given by the demons; but these answers do not appear to have been heard from any lips but those of him who was the creator or cause of the scene. The whole of the demons therefore were merely figures, produced by the magic lantern (which is said to have been invented by Roger Bacon), or by something of that nature. The burning of the perfumes served to produce a dense atmosphere, that was calculated to exaggerate, and render more formidable and terrific, the figures which were exhibited. The magic lantern, which is now the amusement only of servant-maids, and boys at school in their holidays, served at this remote period, and when the power of optical delusions was unknown, to terrify men of wisdom and penetration, and make them believe that legions of devils from the infernal regions were come among them, to produce the most horrible effects, and suspend and invert the laws of nature. It is probable, that the magician, who carried home with him a "wallet full of books," also carried at the same time the magic lantern or mirror, with its lights, which had served him for his exhibition, and that this was the cause of the phenomenon, that they observed two of the demons which they had seen at the amphitheatre, going before them on their return, "leaping and skipping, sometimes running on the roofs of the houses, and sometimes on the ground." [209] NOSTRADAMUS. Michael Nostradamus, a celebrated astrologer, was born at St. Remi in Provence in the year 1503. He published a Century of Prophecies in obscure and oracular terms and barbarous verse, and other works. In the period in which he lived the pretended art of astrological prediction was in the highest repute; and its professors were sought for by emperors and kings, and entertained with the greatest distinction and honour. Henry the Second of France, moved with his great renown, sent for Nostradamus to court, received much gratification from his visit, and afterward ordered him to Blois, that he might see the princes, his sons, calculate their horoscopes, and predict their future fortunes. He was no less in favour afterwards with Charles the Ninth. He died in the year 1566. DOCTOR DEE. Dr. John Dee was a man who made a conspicuous figure in the sixteenth century. He was born at London in the year 1527. He was an eminent mathematician, and an indefatigable scholar. He says of himself, that, having been sent to Cambridge when he was fifteen, he persisted for several years in allowing himself only four hours for sleep in the twenty-four, and two for food and refreshment, and that he constantly occupied the remaining eighteen (the time for divine service only excepted) in study. At Cambridge he superintended the exhibition of a Greek play of Aristophanes, among the machinery of which he introduced an artificial scarabaeus, or beetle, which flew up to the palace of Jupiter, with a man on his back, and a basket of provisions. The ignorant and astonished spectators ascribed this feat to the arts of the magician; and Dee, annoyed by these suspicions, found it expedient to withdraw to the continent. Here he resided first at the university of Louvaine, at which place, his acquaintance was courted by the dukes of Mantua and Medina, and from thence proceeded to Paris, where he gave lectures on Euclid with singular applause. In 1551 he returned to England, and was received with distinction by sir John Check, and introduced to secretary Cecil, and even to king Edward, from whom he received a pension of one hundred crowns _per annum_, which he speedily after exchanged for a small living in the church. In the reign of queen Mary he was for some time kindly treated; but afterwards came into great trouble, and even into danger of his life. He entered into correspondence with several of the servants of queen Elizabeth at Woodstock, and was charged with practising against Mary's life by enchantments. Upon this accusation, he was seized and confined; and, being after several examinations discharged of the indictment, was turned over to bishop Bonner to see if any heresy could be found in him. After a tedious persecution he was set at liberty in 1555, and was so little subdued by what he had suffered, that in the following year he presented a petition to the queen, requesting her co-operation in a plan for preserving and recovering certain monuments of classical antiquity. The principal study of Dee however at this time lay in astrology; and accordingly, upon the accession of Elizabeth, Robert Dudley, her chief favourite, was sent to consult the doctor as to the aspect of the stars, that they might fix on an auspicious day for celebrating her coronation. Some years after we find him again on the continent; and in 1571, being taken ill at Louvaine, we are told the queen sent over two physicians to accomplish his cure. Elizabeth afterwards visited him at his house at Mortlake, that she might view his magazine of mathematical instruments and curiosities; and about this time employed him to defend her title to countries discovered in different parts of the globe. He says of himself, that he received the most advantageous offers from Charles V, Ferdinand, Maximilian II, and Rodolph II, emperors of Germany, and from the czar of Muscovy an offer of L.2000 sterling _per annum_, upon condition that he would reside in his dominions. All these circumstances were solemnly attested by Dee in a Compendious Rehearsal of his Life and Studies for half-a-century, composed at a later period, and read by him at his house at Mortlake to two commissioners appointed by Elizabeth to enquire into his circumstances, accompanied with evidences and documents to establish the particulars. [210] Had Dee gone no further than this, he would undoubtedly have ranked among the profoundest scholars and most eminent geniuses that adorned the reign of the maiden queen. But he was unfortunately cursed with an ambition that nothing could satisfy; and, having accustomed his mind to the wildest reveries, and wrought himself up to an extravagant pitch of enthusiasm, he pursued a course that involved him in much calamity, and clouded all his latter days with misery and ruin. He dreamed perpetually of the philosopher's stone, and was haunted with the belief of intercourse of a supramundane character. It is almost impossible to decide among these things, how much was illusion, and how much was forgery. Both were inextricably mixed in his proceedings; and this extraordinary victim probably could not in his most dispassionate moments precisely distinguish what belonged to the one, and what to the other. As Dee was an enthusiast, so he perpetually interposed in his meditations prayers of the greatest emphasis and fervour. As he was one day in November 1582, engaged in these devout exercises, he says that there appeared to him the angel Uriel at the west window of his Museum, who gave him a translucent stone, or chrystal, of a convex form, that had the quality, when intently surveyed, of presenting apparitions, and even emitting sounds, in consequence of which the observer could hold conversations, ask questions and receive answers from the figures he saw in the mirror. It was often necessary that the stone should be turned one way and another in different positions, before the person who consulted it gained the right focus; and then the objects to be observed would sometimes shew themselves on the surface of the stone, and sometime in different parts of the room by virtue of the action of the stone. It had also this peculiarity, that only one person, having been named as seer, could see the figures exhibited, and hear the voices that spoke, though there might be various persons in the room. It appears that the person who discerned these visions must have his eyes and his ears uninterruptedly engaged in the affair, so that, as Dee experienced, to render the communication effectual, there must be two human beings concerned in the scene, one of them to describe what he saw, and to recite the dialogue that took place, and the other immediately to commit to paper all that his partner dictated. Dee for some reason chose for himself the part of the amanuensis, and had to seek for a companion, who was to watch the stone, and repeat to him whatever he saw and heard. It happened opportunely that, a short time before Dee received this gift from on high, he contracted a familiar intercourse with one Edward Kelly of Worcestershire, whom he found specially qualified to perform the part which it was necessary to Dee to have adequately filled. Kelly was an extraordinary character, and in some respects exactly such a person as Dee wanted. He was just twenty-eight years younger than the memorable personage, who now received him as an inmate, and was engaged in his service at a stipulated salary of fifty pounds a year. Kelly entered upon life with a somewhat unfortunate adventure. He was accused, when a young man, of forgery, brought to trial, convicted, and lost his ears in the pillory. This misfortune however by no means daunted him. He was assiduously engaged in the search for the philosopher's stone. He had an active mind, great enterprise, and a very domineering temper. Another adventure in which he had been engaged previously to his knowledge of Dee, was in digging up the body of a man, who had been buried only the day before, that he might compel him by incantations, to answer questions, and discover future events. There was this difference therefore between the two persons previously to their league. Dee was a man of regular manners and unspotted life, honoured by the great, and favourably noticed by crowned heads in different parts of the world; while Kelly was a notorious profligate, accustomed to the most licentious actions, and under no restraint from morals or principle. One circumstance that occurred early in the acquaintance of Kelly and Dee it is necessary to mention. It serves strikingly to illustrate the ascendancy of the junior and impetuous party over his more gifted senior. Kelly led Dee, we are not told under what pretence, to visit the celebrated ruins of Glastonbury Abbey in Somersetshire. Here, as these curious travellers searched into every corner of the scene, they met by some rare accident with a vase containing a certain portion of the actual _elixir vitae_, that rare and precious liquid, so much sought after, which has the virtue of converting the baser metals into gold and silver. It had remained here perhaps ever since the time of the highly-gifted St. Dunstan in the tenth century. This they carried off in triumph: but we are not told of any special use to which they applied it, till a few years after, when they were both on the continent. The first record of their consultations with the supramundane spirits, was of the date of December 2, 1581, at Lexden Heath in the county of Essex; and from this time they went on in a regular series of consultations with and enquiries from these miraculous visitors, a great part of which will appear to the uninitiated extremely puerile and ludicrous, but which were committed to writing with the most scrupulous exactness by Dee, the first part still existing in manuscript, but the greater portion from 28 May 1583 to 1608, with some interruptions, having been committed to the press by Dr. Meric Casaubon in a well-sized folio in 1659, under the title of "A True and Faithful Relation of what passed between Dr. John Dee and some Spirits, tending, had it succeeded, to a general alteration of most states and kingdoms of the world." Kelly and Dee had not long been engaged in these supernatural colloquies, before an event occurred which gave an entirely new turn to their proceedings. Albert Alaski, a Polish nobleman, lord palatine of the principality of Siradia, came over at this time into England, urged, as he said, by a desire personally to acquaint himself with the glories of the reign of Elizabeth, and the evidences of her unrivalled talents. The queen and her favourite, the earl of Leicester, received him with every mark of courtesy and attention, and, having shewn him all the wonders of her court at Westminster and Greenwich, sent him to Oxford, with a command to the dignitaries and heads of colleges, to pay him every attention, and to lay open to his view all their rarest curiosities. Among other things worthy of notice, Alaski enquired for the celebrated Dr. Dee, and expressed the greatest impatience to be acquainted with him. Just at this juncture the earl of Leicester happened to spy Dr. Dee among the crowd who attended at a royal levee. The earl immediately advanced towards him; and, in his frank manner, having introduced him to Alaski, expressed his intention of bringing the Pole to dine with the doctor at his house at Mortlake. Embarrassed with this unexpected honour, Dee no sooner got home, than he dispatched an express to the earl, honestly confessing that he should be unable to entertain such guests in a suitable manner, without being reduced to the expedient of selling or pawning his plate, to procure him the means of doing so. Leicester communicated the doctor's perplexity to Elizabeth; and the queen immediately dispatched a messenger with a present of forty angels, or twenty pounds, to enable him to receive his guests as became him. A great intimacy immediately commenced between Dee and the stranger. Alaski, though possessing an extensive territory, was reduced by the prodigality of himself or his ancestors to much embarrassment; and on the other hand this nobleman appeared to Dee an instrument well qualified to accomplish his ambitious purposes. Alaski was extremely desirous to look into the womb of time; and Dee, it is likely, suggested repeated hints of his extraordinary power from his possession of the philosopher's stone. After two or three interviews, and much seeming importunity on the part of the Pole, Dee and Kelly graciously condescended to admit Alaski as a third party to their secret meetings with their supernatural visitors, from which the rest of the world were carefully excluded. Here the two Englishmen made use of the vulgar artifice, of promising extraordinary good fortune to the person of whom they purposed to make use. By the intervention of the miraculous stone they told the wondering traveller, that he should shortly become king of Poland, with the accession of several other kingdoms, that he should overcome many armies of Saracens and Paynims, and prove a mighty conqueror. Dee at the same time complained of the disagreeable condition in which he was at home, and that Burleigh and Walsingham were his malicious enemies. At length they concerted among themselves, that they, Alaski, and Dee and Kelly with their wives and families, should clandestinely withdraw out of England, and proceed with all practicable rapidity to Alaski's territory in the kingdom of Poland. They embarked on this voyage 21 September, and arrived at Siradia the third of February following. At this place however the strangers remained little more than a month. Alaski found his finances in such disorder, that it was scarcely possible for him to feed the numerous guests he had brought along with him. The promises of splendid conquests which Dee and Kelly profusely heaped upon him, were of no avail to supply the deficiency of his present income. And the elixir they brought from Glastonbury was, as they said, so incredibly rich in virtue, that they were compelled to lose much time in making projection by way of trial, before they could hope to arrive at the proper temperament for producing the effect they desired. In the following month Alaski with his visitors passed to Cracow, the residence of the kings of Poland. Here they remained five months, Dee and Kelly perpetually amusing the Pole with the extraordinary virtue of the stone, which had been brought from heaven by an angel, and busied in a thousand experiments with the elixir, and many tedious preparations which they pronounced to be necessary, before the compound could have the proper effect. The prophecies were uttered with extreme confidence; but no external indications were afforded, to shew that in any way they were likely to be realised. The experiments and exertions of the laboratory were incessant; but no transmutation was produced. At length Alaski found himself unable to sustain the train of followers he had brought out of England. With mountains of wealth, the treasures of the world promised, they were reduced to the most grievous straits for the means of daily subsistence. Finally the zeal of Alaski diminished; he had no longer the same faith in the projectors that had deluded him; and he devised a way of sending them forward with letters of recommendation to Rodolph II, emperor of Germany, at his imperial seat of Prague, where they arrived on the ninth of August. Rodolph was a man, whose character and habits of life they judged excellently adapted to their purpose. Dee had a long conference with the emperor, in which he explained to him what wonderful things the spirits promised to this prince, in case he proved exemplary of life, and obedient to their suggestions, that he should be the greatest conqueror in the world, and should take captive the Turk in his city of Constantinople. Rodolph was extremely courteous in his reception, and sent away Dee with the highest hopes that he had at length found a personage with whom he should infallibly succeed to the extent of his wishes. He sought however a second interview, and was baffled. At one time the emperor was going to his country palace near Prague, and at another was engaged in the pleasures of the chace. He also complained that he was not sufficiently familiar with the Latin tongue, to manage the conferences with Dee in a satisfactory manner in person. He therefore deputed Curtzius, a man high in his confidence, to enter into the necessary details with his learned visitor. Dee also contrived to have Spinola, the ambassador from Madrid to the court of the emperor, to urge his suit. The final result was that Rodolph declined any further intercourse with Dee. He turned a deaf ear to his prophecies, and professed to be altogether void of faith as to his promises respecting the philosopher's stone. Dee however was led on perpetually with hopes of better things from the emperor, till the spring of the year 1585. At length he was obliged to fly from Prague, the bishop of Placentia, the pope's nuncio, having it in command from his holiness to represent to Rodolph how discreditable it was for him to harbour English magicians, heretics, at his court. From Prague Dee and his followers proceeded to Cracow. Here he found means of introduction to Stephen, king of Poland, to whom immediately he insinuated as intelligence from heaven, that Rodolph, the emperor, would speedily be assassinated, and that Stephen would succeed him in the throne of Germany. Stephen appears to have received Dee with more condescension than Rodolph had done, and was once present at his incantation and interview with the invisible spirits. Dee also lured him on with promises respecting the philosopher's stone. Meanwhile the magician was himself reduced to the strangest expedients for subsistence. He appears to have daily expected great riches from the transmutation of metals, and was unwilling to confess that he and his family were in the mean time almost starving. When king Stephen at length became wearied with fruitless expectation, Dee was fortunate enough to meet with another and more patient dupe in Rosenburg, a nobleman of considerable wealth at Trebona in the kingdom of Bohemia. Here Dee appears to have remained till 1589, when he was sent for home by Elizabeth. In what manner he proceeded during this interval, and from whence he drew his supplies, we are only left to conjecture. He lured on his victim with the usual temptation, promising him that he should be king of Poland. In the mean time it is recorded by him, that, on the ninth of December, 1586, he arrived at the point of projection, having cut a piece of metal out of a brass warming-pan; and merely heating it by the fire, and pouring on it a portion of the elixir, it was presently converted into pure silver. We are told that he sent the warming-pan and the piece of silver to queen Elizabeth, that she might be convinced by her own eyes how exactly they tallied, and that the one had unquestionably been a portion of the other. About the same time it is said, that Dee and his associate became more free in their expenditure; and in one instance it is stated as an example, that Kelly gave away to the value of four thousand pounds sterling in gold rings on occasion of the celebration of the marriage of one of his maid-servants. On the twenty-seventh and thirtieth of July, 1587, Dee has recorded in his journal his gratitude to God for his unspeakable mercies on those days imparted, which has been interpreted to mean further acquisitions of wealth by means of the elixir. Meanwhile perpetual occasions of dissention occurred between the two great confederates, Kelly and Dee. They were in many respects unfitted for each other's society. Dee was a man, who from his youth upward had been indefatigable in study and research, had the consciousness of great talents and intellect, and had been universally recognised as such, and had possessed a high character for fervent piety and blameless morals. Kelly was an impudent adventurer, a man of no principles and of blasted reputation; yet fertile in resources, full of self-confidence, and of no small degree of ingenuity. In their mutual intercourse the audacious adventurer often had the upper hand of the man who had lately possessed a well-earned reputation. Kelly frequently professed himself tired of enacting the character of interpreter of the Gods under Dee. He found Dee in all cases running away with the superior consideration; while he in his own opinion best deserved to possess it. The straitness of their circumstances, and the misery they were occasionally called on to endure, we may be sure did not improve their good understanding. Kelly once and again threatened to abandon his leader. Dee continually soothed him, and prevailed on him to stay. Kelly at length started a very extraordinary proposition. Kelly, as interpreter to the spirits, and being the only person who heard and saw any thing, we may presume made them say whatever he pleased. Kelly and Dee had both of them wives. Kelly did not always live harmoniously with the partner of his bed. He sometimes went so far as to say that he hated her. Dee was more fortunate. His wife was a person of good family, and had hitherto been irreproachable in her demeanour. The spirits one day revealed to Kelly, that they must henceforth have their wives in common. The wife of Kelly was barren, and this curse could no otherwise be removed. Having started the proposition, Kelly played the reluctant party. Dee, who was pious and enthusiastic, inclined to submit. He first indeed started the notion, that it could only be meant that they should live in mutual harmony and good understanding. The spirits protested against this, and insisted upon the literal interpretation. Dee yielded, and compared his case to that of Abraham, who at the divine command consented to sacrifice his son Isaac. Kelly alleged that these spirits, which Dee had hitherto regarded as messengers from God, could be no other than servants of Satan. He persisted in his disobedience; and the spirits declared that he was no longer worthy to be their interpreter, and that another mediator must be found. They named Arthur Dee, the son of the possessor of the stone, a promising and well-disposed boy of only eight years of age. Dee consecrated the youth accordingly to his high function by prayers and religious rites for several days together. Kelly took horse and rode away, protesting that they should meet no more. Arthur entered upon his office, April 15, 1587. The experiment proved abortive. He saw something; but not to the purpose. He heard no voices. At length Kelly, on the third day, entered the room unexpectedly, "by miraculous fortune," as Dee says, "or a divine fate," sate down between them, and immediately saw figures, and heard voices, which the little Arthur was not enabled to perceive. In particular he saw four heads inclosed in an obelisk, which he perceived to represent the two magicians and their wives, and interpreted to signify that unlimited communion in which they were destined to engage. The matter however being still an occasion of scruple, a spirit appeared, who by the language he used was plainly no other than the Saviour of the world, and took away from them the larger stone; for now it appears there were two stones. This miracle at length induced all parties to submit; and the divine command was no sooner obeyed, than the stone which had been abstracted, was found again under the pillow of the wife of Dee. It is not easy to imagine a state of greater degradation than that into which this person had now fallen. During all the prime and vigour of his intellect, he had sustained an eminent part among the learned and the great, distinguished and honoured by Elizabeth and her favourite. But his unbounded arrogance and self-opinion could never be satisfied. And seduced, partly by his own weakness, and partly by the insinuations of a crafty adventurer, he became a mystic of the most dishonourable sort. He was induced to believe in a series of miraculous communications without common sense, engaged in the pursuit of the philosopher's stone, and no doubt imagined that he was possessed of the great secret. Stirred up by these conceptions, he left his native country, and became a wanderer, preying upon the credulity of one prince and eminent man after another, and no sooner was he discarded by one victim of credulity, than he sought another, a vagabond on the earth, reduced from time to time to the greatest distress, persecuted, dishonoured and despised by every party in their turn. At length by incessant degrees he became dead to all moral distinctions, and all sense of honour and self-respect. "Professing himself to be wise he became a fool, walked in the vanity of his imagination," and had his understanding under total eclipse. The immoral system of conduct in which he engaged, and the strange and shocking blasphemy that he mixed with it, render him at this time a sort of character that it is painful to contemplate. Led on as Dee at this time was by the ascendancy and consummate art of Kelly, there was far from existing any genuine harmony between them; and, after many squabbles and heart-burnings, they appear finally to have parted in January 1589, Dee having, according to his own account, at that time delivered up to Kelly, the elixir and the different implements by which the transmutation of metals was to be effected. Various overtures appear to have passed now for some years between Dee and queen Elizabeth, intended to lead to his restoration to his native country. Dee had upon different occasions expressed a wish to that effect; and Elizabeth in the spring of 1589 sent him a message, that removed from him all further thought of hesitation and delay. He set out from Trebona with three coaches, and a baggage train correspondent, and had an audience of the queen at Richmond towards the close of that year. Upon the whole it is impossible perhaps not to believe, that Elizabeth was influenced in this proceeding by the various reports that had reached her of his extraordinary success with the philosopher's stone, and the boundless wealth he had it in his power to bestow. Many princes at this time contended with each other, as to who should be happy enough by fair means or by force to have under his control the fortunate possessor of the great secret, and thus to have in his possession the means of inexhaustible wealth. Shortly after this time the emperor Rodolph seized and committed to prison Kelly, the partner of Dee in this inestimable faculty, and, having once enlarged him, placed him in custody a second time. Meanwhile Elizabeth is said to have made him pressing overtures of so flattering a nature that he determined to escape and return to his native country. For this purpose he is said to have torn the sheets of his bed, and twisted them into a rope, that by that means he might descend from the tower in which he was confined. But, being a corpulent man of considerable weight, the rope broke with him before he was half way down, and, having fractured one or both his legs, and being otherwise considerably bruised, he died shortly afterwards. This happened in the year 1595. Dee (according to his own account, delivered to commissioners appointed by queen Elizabeth to enquire into his circumstances) came from Trebona to England in a state little inferior to that of an ambassador. He had three coaches, with four horses harnessed to each coach, two or three loaded waggons, and a guard, sometimes of six, and sometimes of twenty-four soldiers, to defend him from enemies, who were supposed to lie in wait to intercept his passage. Immediately on his arrival he had an audience of the queen at Richmond, by whom he was most graciously received. She gave special orders, that he should do what he would in chemistry and philosophy, and that no one should on any account molest him. But here end the prosperity and greatness of this extraordinary man. If he possessed the power of turning all baser metals into gold, he certainly acted unadvisedly in surrendering this power to his confederate, immediately before his return to his native country. He parted at the same time with his gift of prophecy, since, though he brought away with him his miraculous stone, and at one time appointed one Bartholomew, and another one Hickman, his interpreters to look into the stone, to see the marvellous sights it was expected to disclose, and to hear the voices and report the words that issued from it, the experiments proved in both instances abortive. They wanted the finer sense, or the unparalleled effrontery and inexhaustible invention, which Kelly alone possessed. The remainder of the voyage of the life of Dee was "bound in shallows and in miseries." Queen Elizabeth we may suppose soon found that her dreams of immense wealth to be obtained through his intervention were nugatory. Yet would she not desert the favourite of her former years. He presently began to complain of poverty and difficulties. He represented that the revenue of two livings he held in the church had been withheld from him from the time of his going abroad. He stated that, shortly after that period, his house had been broken into and spoiled by a lawless mob, instigated by his ill fame as a dealer in prohibited and unlawful arts. They destroyed or dispersed his library, consisting of four thousand volumes, seven hundred of which were manuscripts, and of inestimable rarity. They ravaged his collection of curious implements and machines. He enumerated the expences of his journey home by Elizabeth's command, for which he seemed to consider the queen as his debtor. Elizabeth in consequence ordered him at several times two or three small sums. But this being insufficient, she was prevailed upon in 1592 to appoint two members of her privy council to repair to his house at Mortlake to enquire into particulars, to whom he made a Compendious Rehearsal of half a hundred years of his life, accompanied with documents and vouchers. It is remarkable that in this Rehearsal no mention occurs of the miraculous stone brought down to him by an angel, or of his pretensions respecting the transmutation of metals. He merely rests, his claims to public support upon his literary labours, and the acknowledged eminence of his intellectual faculties. He passes over the years he had lately spent in foreign countries, in entire silence, unless we except his account of the particulars of his journey home. His representation to Elizabeth not being immediately productive of all the effects he expected, he wrote a letter to archbishop Whitgift two years after, lamenting the delay of the expected relief, and complaining of the "untrue reports, opinions and fables, which had for so many years been spread of his studies." He represents these studies purely as literary, frank, and wholly divested of mystery. If the "True Relation of what passed for many years between Dr. Dee and certain Spirits" had not been preserved, and afterwards printed, we might have been disposed to consider all that was said on this subject as a calumny. The promotion which Dee had set his heart on, was to the office of master of St. Cross's Hospital near Winchester, which the queen had promised him when the present holder should be made a bishop. But this never happened. He obtained however in lieu of it the chancellorship of St. Paul's cathedral, 8 December 1594, which in the following year he exchanged for the wardenship of the college at Manchester. In this last office he continued till the year 1602 (according to other accounts 1604), during which time he complained of great dissention and refractoriness on the part of the fellows; though it may perhaps be doubted whether equal blame may not fairly be imputed to the arrogance and restlessness of the warden. At length he receded altogether from public life, and retired to his ancient domicile at Mortlake. He made one attempt to propitiate the favour of king James; but it was ineffectual. Elizabeth had known him in the flower and vigour of his days; he had boasted the uniform patronage of her chief favourite; he had been recognised by the philosophical and the learned as inferior to none of their body, and he had finally excited the regard of his ancient mistress by his pretence to revelations, and the promises he held out of the philosopher's stone. She could not shake off her ingrafted prejudice in his favour; she could not find in her heart to cast him aside in his old age and decay. But then came a king, to whom in his prosperity and sunshine he had been a stranger. He wasted his latter days in dotage, obscurity and universal neglect. No one has told us how he contrived to subsist. We may be sure that his constant companions were mortification and the most humiliating privations. He lingered on till the year 1608; and the ancient people in the time of Antony Wood, nearly a century afterwards, pointed to his grave in the chancel of the church at Mortlake, and professed to know the very spot where his remains were desposited. The history of Dee is exceedingly interesting, not only on its own account; not only for the eminence of his talents and attainments, and the incredible sottishness and blindness of understanding which marked his maturer years; but as strikingly illustrative of the credulity and superstitious faith of the time in which he lived. At a later period his miraculous stone which displayed such wonders, and was attended with so long a series of supernatural vocal communications would have deceived nobody: it was scarcely more ingenious than the idle tricks of the most ordinary conjurer. But at this period the crust of long ages of darkness had not yet been fully worn away. Men did not trust to the powers of human understanding, and were not familiarised with the main canons of evidence and belief. Dee passed six years on the continent, proceeding from the court of one prince or potent nobleman to another, listened to for a time by each, each regarding his oracular communications with astonishment and alarm, and at length irresolutely casting him off, when he found little or no difficulty in running a like career with another. It is not the least curious circumstance respecting the life of Dee, that in 1659, half a century after his death, there remained still such an interest respecting practices of this sort, as to authorise the printing a folio volume, in a complex and elaborate form, of his communications with spirits. The book was brought out by Dr. Meric Casaubon, no contemptible name in the republic of letters. The editor observes respecting the hero and his achievements in the Preface, that, "though his carriage in certain respects seemed to lay in works of darkness, yet all was tendered by him to kings and princes, and by all (England alone excepted) was listened to for a good while with good respect, and by some for a long time embraced and entertained." He goes on to say, that "the fame of it made the pope bestir himself, and filled all, both learned and unlearned, with great wonder and astonishment." He adds, that, "as a whole it is undoubtedly not to be paralleled in its kind in any age or country." In a word the editor, though disavowing an entire belief in Dee's pretensions, yet plainly considers them with some degree of deference, and insinuates to how much more regard such undue and exaggerated pretensions are entitled, than the impious incredulity of certain modern Sadducees, who say that "there is no resurrection; neither angel, nor spirit." The belief in witchcraft and sorcery has undoutedly met with some degree of favour from this consideration, inasmuch as, by recognising the correspondence of human beings with the invisible world, it has one principle in common with the believers in revelation, of which the more daring infidel is destitute. EARL OF DERBY. The circumstances of the death of Ferdinand, fifth earl of Derby, in 1594, have particularly engaged the attention of the contemporary historians. Hesket, an emissary of the Jesuits and English Catholics abroad, was importunate with this nobleman to press his title to the crown, as the legal representative of his great-grandmother Mary, youngest daughter to king Henry the Seventh. But the earl, fearing, as it is said, that this was only a trap to ensnare him, gave information against Hesket to the government, in consequence of which he was apprehended, tried and executed. Hesket had threatened the earl that, if he did not comply with his suggestion, he should live only a short time. Accordingly, four months afterwards, the earl was seized with a very uncommon disease. A waxen image was at the same time found in his chamber with hairs in its belly exactly of the same colour as those of the earl. [211] The image was, by some zealous friend of lord Derby, burned; but the earl grew worse. He was himself thoroughly persuaded that he was bewitched. Stow has inserted in his Annals a minute account of his disease from day to day, with a description of all the symptoms. KING JAMES'S VOYAGE TO NORWAY. While Elizabeth amused herself with the supernatural gifts to which Dee advanced his claim, and consoled the adversity and destitution to which the old man, once so extensively honoured, was now reduced, a scene of a very different complexion was played in the northern part of the island. Trials for sorcery were numerous in the reign of Mary queen of Scots; the comparative darkness and ignorance of the sister kingdom rendered it a soil still more favourable than England to the growth of these gloomy superstitions. But the mind of James, at once inquisitive, pedantic and self-sufficient, peculiarly fitted him for the pursuit of these narrow-minded and obscure speculations. One combination of circumstances wrought up this propensity within him to the greatest height. James was born in the year 1566. He was the only direct heir to the crown of Scotland; and he was in near prospect of succession to that of England. The zeal of the Protestant Reformation had wrought up the anxiety of men's minds to a fever of anticipation and forecast. Consequently, towards the end of the reign of Elizabeth, a point which greatly arrested the general attention was the expected marriage of the king of Scotland. Elizabeth, with that petty jealousy which obscured the otherwise noble qualities of her spirit, sought to countermine this marriage, that her rival and expected successor might not be additionally graced with the honours of offspring. James fixed his mind upon a daughter of the king of Denmark. By the successful cabals of Elizabeth he was baffled in this suit; and the lady was finally married to the duke of Bavaria. The king of Denmark had another daughter; and James made proposals to this princess. Still he was counteracted; till at length he sent a splendid embassy, with ample powers and instructions, and the treaty was concluded. The princess embarked; but, when she had now for some time been expected in Scotland, news was brought instead, that she had been driven back by tempests on the coast of Norway. The young king felt keenly his disappointment, and gallantly resolved to sail in person for the port, where his intended consort was detained by the shattered condition of her fleet. James arrived on the twenty-second of October 1589, and having consummated his marriage, was induced by the invitation of his father-in-law to pass the winter at Copenhagen, from whence he did not sail till the spring, and, after having encountered a variety of contrary winds and some danger, reached Edinburgh on the first of May in the following year. It was to be expected that variable weather and storms should characterise the winter-season in these seas. But the storms were of longer continuance and of more frequent succession, than was usually known. And at this period, when the proposed consort of James first, then the king himself, and finally both of them, and the hope of Protestant succession, were committed to the mercy of the waves, it is not wonderful that the process of the seasons should be accurately marked, and that those varieties, which are commonly ascribed to second causes, should have been imputed to extraordinary and supernatural interference. It was affirmed that, in the king's return from Denmark, his ship was impelled by a different wind from that which acted on the rest of his fleet. It happened that, soon after James's return to Scotland, one Geillis Duncan, a servant-maid, for the extraordinary circumstances that attended certain cures which she performed, became suspected of witchcraft. Her master questioned her on the subject; but she would own nothing. Perceiving her obstinacy, the master took upon himself of his own authority, to extort confession from her by torture. In this he succeeded; and, having related divers particulars of witchcraft of herself, she proceeded to accuse others. The persons she accused were cast into the public prison. One of these, Agnes Sampson by name, at first stoutly resisted the torture. But, it being more strenuously applied, she by and by became extremely communicative. It was at this period that James personally engaged in the examinations. We are told that he "took great delight in being present," and putting the proper questions. The unhappy victim was introduced into a room plentifully furnished with implements of torture, while the king waited in an apartment at a convenient distance, till the patient was found to be in a suitable frame of mind to make the desired communications. No sooner did he or she signify that they were ready, and should no longer refuse to answer, than they were introduced, fainting, sinking under recent sufferings which they had no longer strength to resist, into the royal presence. And here sat James, in envied ease and conscious "delight," wrapped up in the thought of his own sagacity, framing the enquiries that might best extort the desired evidence, and calculating with a judgment by no means to be despised, from the bearing, the turn of features, and the complexion of the victim, the probability whether he was making a frank and artless confession, or had still the secret desire to impose on the royal examiner, or from a different motive was disposed to make use of the treacherous authority which the situation afforded, to gratify his revenge upon some person towards whom he might be inspired with latent hatred and malice. Agnes Sampson related with what solicitude she had sought to possess some fragment of the linen belonging to the king. If he had worn it, and it had contracted any soil from his royal person, this would be enough: she would infallibly, by applying her incantations to this fragment, have been able to undermine the life of the sovereign. She told how she with two hundred other witches had sailed in sieves from Leith to North Berwick church, how they had there encountered the devil in person, how they had feasted with him, and what obscenities had been practised. She related that in this voyage they had drowned a cat, having first baptised him, and that immediately a dreadful storm had arisen, and in this very storm the king's ship had been separated from the rest of his fleet. She took James aside, and, the better to convince him, undertook to repeat to him the conversation, the dialogue which had passed from the one to the other, between the king and queen in their bedchamber on the wedding-night. Agnes Sampson was condemned to the flames. JOHN FIAN. Another of the miserable victims on this occasion was John Fian, a schoolmaster at Tranent near Edinburgh, a young man, whom the ignorant populace had decorated with the style of doctor. He was tortured by means of a rope strongly twisted about his head, and by the boots. He was at length brought to confession. He told of a young girl, the sister of one of his scholars, with whom he had been deeply enamoured. He had proposed to the boy to bring him three hairs from the most secret part of his sister's body, possessing which he should be enabled by certain incantations to procure himself the love of the girl. The boy at his mother's instigation brought to Fian three hairs from a virgin heifer instead; and, applying his conjuration to them, the consequence had been that the heifer forced her way into his school, leaped upon him in amorous fashion, and would not be restrained from following him about the neighbourhood. This same Fian acted an important part in the scene at North Berwick church. As being best fitted for the office, he was appointed recorder or clerk to the devil, to write down the names, and administer the oaths to the witches. He was actively concerned in the enchantment, by means of which the king's ship had nearly been lost on his return from Denmark. This part of his proceeding however does not appear in his own confession, but in that of the witches who were his fellow-conspirators. He further said, that, the night after he made his confession, the devil appeared to him, and was in a furious rage against him for his disloyalty to his service, telling him that he should severely repent his infidelity. According to his own account, he stood firm, and defied the devil to do his worst. Meanwhile the next night he escaped out of prison, and was with some difficulty retaken. He however finally denied all his former confessions, said that they were falshoods forced from him by mere dint of torture, and, though he was now once more subjected to the same treatment to such an excess as must necessarily have crippled him of his limbs for ever, he proved inflexible to the last. At length by the king's order he was strangled, and his body cast into the flames. Multitudes of unhappy men and women perished in this cruel persecution. [212] KING JAMES'S DEMONOLOGY. It was by a train of observations and experience like this, that James was prompted seven years after to compose and publish his Dialogues on Demonology in Three Books. In the Preface to this book he says, "The fearfull abounding at this time in this countrey, of these detestable slaves of the Diuel, the Witches or enchaunters, hath moved me (beloued Reader) to dispatch in post this following Treatise of mine, not in any wise (as I protest) to serue for a shew of my learning and ingine, but onely (moued of conscience) to preasse thereby, so farre as I can, to resolue the doubting hearts of many, both that such assaults of Satan are most certainely practised, and that the instruments thereof merits most seuerely to be punished." In the course of the treatise he affirms, "that barnes, or wiues, or neuer so diffamed persons, may serue for sufficient witnesses and proofes in such trialls; for who but Witches can be prooves, and so witnesses of the doings of Witches?" [213] But, lest innocent persons should be accused, and suffer falsely, he tells us, "There are two other good helps that may be used for their trial: the one is, the finding of their marke [a mark that the devil was supposed to impress upon some part of their persons], and the trying the insensibleness thereof: the other is their fleeting on the water: for, as in a secret murther, if the dead carkasse be at any time thereafter handled by the murtherer, it will gush out of bloud, as if the bloud were crying to the heauen for revenge of the murtherer, God hauing appointed that secret supernaturall signe, for triall of that secret unnaturall crime, so it appears that God hath appointed (for a supernaturall signe of the monstrous impietie of Witches) that the water shall refuse to receive them in her bosome, that haue shaken off them the sacred water of Baptisme, and wilfully refused the benefite thereof: No, not so much as their eyes are able to shed teares (threaten and torture them as ye please) while first they repent (God not permitting them to dissemble their obstinacie in so horrible a crime.)" [214] STATUTE, 1 JAMES I. In consequence of the strong conviction James entertained on the subject, the English parliament was induced, in the first year of his reign, to supersede the milder proceedings of Elizabeth, and to enact that "if any person shall use, practice, or exercise any invocation or conjuration of any evil and wicked spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, entertain, employ, feed or reward any evil and wicked spirit, to or for any intent and purpose; or take up any dead man, woman, or child out of their grave, or the skin, bone, or any part of any dead person, to be used in any manner of witchcraft, sorcery or enchantment, or shall use any witchcraft, sorcery or enchantment, whereby any person shall be killed, destroyed, wasted, consumed, pined or lamed in his or her body, or any part thereof; that then every such offender, their aiders, abettors and counsellors shall suffer the pains of death." And upon this statute great numbers were condemned and executed. FORMAN AND OTHERS. There is a story of necromancy which unfortunately makes too prominent a figure in the history of the court and character of king James the First. Robert earl of Essex, son of queen Elizabeth's favourite, and who afterwards became commander in chief of the parliamentary forces in the civil wars, married lady Frances Howard, a younger daughter of the earl of Suffolk, the bride and bridegroom being the one thirteen, the other fourteen years old at the time of the marriage. The relatives of the countess however, who had brought about the match, thought it most decorous to separate them for some time, and, while she remained at home with her friends, the bridegroom travelled for three or four years on the continent. The lady proved the greatest beauty of her time, but along with this had the most libertine and unprincipled dispositions. The very circumstance that she had vowed her faith at the altar when she was not properly capable of choice, inspired into the wayward mind of the countess a repugnance to her husband. He came from the continent, replete with accomplishments; and we may conclude, from the figure he afterwards made in the most perilous times, not without a competent share of intellectual abilities. But the countess shrank from all advances on his part. He loved retirement, and woed the lady to scenes most favourable to the development of the affections: she had been bred in court, and was melancholy and repined in any other scene. So capricious was her temper, that she is said at the same time to have repelled the overtures of the accomplished and popular prince Henry, the heir to the throne. It happened about this period that a beautiful young man, twenty years of age, and full of all martial graces, appeared on the stage. King James was singularly partial to young men who were distinguished for personal attractions. By an extraordinary accident this person, Robert Carr by name, in the midst of a court-spectacle, just when it was his cue to present a buckler with a device to the king, was thrown from his horse, and broke his leg. This was enough: James naturally became interested in the misfortune, attached himself to Carr, and even favoured him again and again with a royal visit during his cure. Presently the young man became an exclusive favourite; and no honours and graces could be obtained of the sovereign but by his interference. This circumstance fixed the wavering mind of the countess of Essex. Voluptuous and self-willed in her disposition, she would hear of no one but Carr. But her opportunities of seeing him were both short and rare. In this emergency she applied to Mrs. Turner, a woman whose profession it was to study and to accommodate the fancies of such persons as the countess. Mrs. Turner introduced her to Dr. Forman, a noted astrologer and magician, and he, by images made of wax, and various uncouth figures and devices, undertook to procure the love of Carr to the lady. At the same time he practised against the earl, that he might become impotent, at least towards his wife. This however did not satisfy the lady; and having gone the utmost lengths towards her innamorato, she insisted on a divorce in all the forms, and a legal marriage with the youth she loved. Carr appears originally to have had good dispositions; and, while that was the case, had assiduously cultivated the friendship of Sir Thomas Overbury, one of the most promising young courtiers of the time. Sir Thomas earnestly sought to break off the intimacy of Carr with lady Essex, and told him how utterly ruinous to his reputation and prospects it would prove, if he married her. But Carr, instead of feeling how much obliged he was to Overbury for this example of disinterested friendship, went immediately and told the countess what the young man said. From this time the destruction of Overbury was resolved on between them. He was first committed to the Tower by an arbitrary mandate of James for refusing an embassage to Russia, next sequestered from all visitors, and finally attacked with poison, which, after several abortive attempts, was at length brought to effect. Meanwhile a divorce was sued for by the countess upon an allegation of impotence; and another female was said to have been substituted in her room, to be subjected to the inspection of a jury of matrons in proof of her virginity. After a lapse of two years the murder was brought to light, the inferior criminals, Mrs. Turner and the rest, convicted and executed, and Carr, now earl of Somerset, and his countess, found guilty, but received the royal pardon.--It is proper to add, in order to give a just idea of the state of human credulity at this period, that, Forman having died at the time that his services were deemed most necessary, one Gresham first, and then a third astrologer and enchanter were brought forward, to consummate the atrocious projects of the infamous countess. It is said that she and her second husband were ultimately so thoroughly alienated from each other, that they resided for years under the same roof, with the most careful precautions that they might not by any chance come into each other's presence. [215] LATEST IDEAS OF JAMES ON THE SUBJECT. It is worthy of remark however that king James lived to alter his mind extremely on the question of witchcraft. He was active in his observations on the subject; and we are told that "the frequency of forged possessions which were detected by him wrought such an alteration in his judgment, that he, receding from what he had written in his early life, grew first diffident of, and then flatly to deny, the working of witches and devils, as but falshoods and delusions." [216] LANCASHIRE WITCHES. A more melancholy tale does not occur in the annals of necromancy than that of the Lancashire witches in 1612. The scene of this story is in Pendlebury Forest, four or five miles from Manchester, remarkable for its picturesque and gloomy situation. Such places were not sought then as now, that they might afford food for the imagination, and gratify the refined taste of the traveller. They were rather shunned as infamous for scenes of depredation and murder, or as the consecrated haunts of diabolical intercourse. Pendlebury had been long of ill repute on this latter account, when a country magistrate, Roger Nowel by name, conceived about this time that he should do a public service, by rooting out a nest of witches, who rendered the place a terror to all the neighbouring vulgar. The first persons he seized on were Elizabeth Demdike and Ann Chattox, the former of whom was eighty years of age, and had for some years been blind, who subsisted principally by begging, though she had a miserable hovel on the spot, which she called her own. Ann Chattox was of the same age, and had for some time been threatened with the calamity of blindness. Demdike was held to be so hardened a witch, that she had trained all her family to the mystery; namely, Elizabeth Device, her daughter, and James and Alison Device, her grandchildren. In the accusation of Chattox was also involved Ann Redferne, her daughter. These, together with John Bulcock, and Jane his mother, Alice Nutter, Catherine Hewit, and Isabel Roby, were successively apprehended by the diligence of Nowel and one or two neighbouring magistrates, and were all of them by some means induced, some to make a more liberal, and others a more restricted confession of their misdeeds in witchcraft, and were afterwards hurried away to Lancaster Castle, fifty miles off, to prison. Their crimes were said to have universally proceeded from malignity and resentment; and it was reported to have repeatedly happened for poor old Demdike to be led by night from her habitation into the open air by some member of her family, when she was left alone for an hour to curse her victim, and pursue her unholy incantations, and was then sought, and brought again to her hovel. Her curses never failed to produce the desired effect. These poor wretches had been but a short time in prison, when information was given, that a meeting of witches was held on Good Friday, at Malkin's Tower, the habitation of Elizabeth Device, to the number of twenty persons, to consult how by infernal machinations to kill one Covel, an officer, to blow up Lancaster Castle, and deliver the prisoners, and to kill another man of the name of Lister. The last was effected. The other plans by some means, we are not told how, were prevented. The prisoners were kept in jail till the summer assizes; and in the mean time it fortunately happened that the poor blind Demdike died in confinement, and was never brought up to trial. The other prisoners were severally indicted for killing by witchcraft certain persons who were named, and were all found guilty. The principal witnesses against Elizabeth Device were James Device and Jennet Device, her grandchildren, the latter only nine years of age. When this girl was put into the witness-box, the grandmother, on seeing her, set up so dreadful a yell, intermixed with bitter curses, that the child declared that she could not go on with her evidence, unless the prisoner was removed. This was agreed to; and both brother and sister swore, that they had been present, when the devil came to their grandmother in the shape of a black dog, and asked her what she desired. She said, the death of John Robinson; when the dog told her to make an image of Robinson in clay, and after crumble it into dust, and as fast as the image perished, the life of the victim should waste away, and in conclusion the man should die. This evidence was received; and upon such testimony, and testimony like this, ten persons were led to the gallows, on the twentieth of August, Ann Chattox of eighty years of age among the rest, the day after the trials, which lasted two days, were finished. The judges who presided on these trials were sir James Altham and sir Edward Bromley, barons of the exchequer. [217] From the whole of this story it is fair to infer, that these old women had played at the game of commerce with the devil. It had flattered their vanity, to make their simpler neighbours afraid of them. To observe the symptoms of their rustic terror, even of their hatred and detestation, had been gratifying to them. They played the game so long, that in an imperfect degree they deceived themselves. Human passions are always to a certain degree infectious. Perceiving the hatred of their neighbours, they began to think that they were worthy objects of detestation and terror, that their imprecations had a real effect, and their curses killed. The brown horrors of the forest were favourable to visions; and they sometimes almost believed, that they met the foe of mankind in the night.--But, when Elizabeth Device actually saw her grandchild of nine years old placed in the witness-box, with the intention of consigning her to a public and an ignominious end, then the reveries of the imagination vanished, and she deeply felt the reality, that, where she had been somewhat imposing on the child in devilish sport, she had been whetting the dagger that was to take her own life, and digging her own grave. It was then no wonder that she uttered a preternatural yell, and poured curses from the bottom of her heart. It must have been almost beyond human endurance, to hear the cry of her despair, and to witness the curses and the agony in which it vented itself. Twenty-two years elapsed after this scene, when a wretched man, of the name of Edmund Robinson, conceived on the same spot the scheme of making himself a profitable speculation from a similar source. He trained his son, eleven years of age, and furnished him with the necessary instructions. He taught him to say that one day in the fields he had met with two dogs, which he urged on to hunt a hare. They would not budge; and he in revenge tied them to a bush and whipped them; when suddenly one of them was transformed into an old woman and the other into a child, a witch and her imp. This story succeeded so well, that the father soon after gave out that his son had an eye that could distinguish a witch by sight, and took him round to the neighbouring churches, where he placed him standing on a bench after service, and bade him look round and see what he could observe. The device, however clumsy, succeeded, and no less than seventeen persons were apprehended at the boy's selection, and conducted to Lancaster Castle. These seventeen persons were tried at the assizes, and found guilty; but the judge, whose name has unfortunately been lost, unlike sir James Altham and sir Edward Bromley, saw something in the case that excited his suspicion, and, though the juries had not hesitated in any one instance, respited the convicts, and sent up a report of the affair to the government. Twenty-two years on this occasion had not elapsed in vain. Four of the prisoners were by the judge's recommendation sent for to the metropolis, and were examined first by the king's physicians, and then by Charles the First in person. The boy's story was strictly scrutinised. In fine he confessed that it was all an imposture; and the whole seventeen received the royal pardon. [218] LADY DAVIES. Eleanor Tuchet, daughter of George lord Audley, married sir John Davies, an eminent lawyer in the time of James the First, and author of a poem of considerable merit on the Immortality of the Soul. This lady was a person of no contemptible talents; but what she seems most to have valued herself upon, was her gift of prophecy; and she accordingly printed a book of Strange and Wonderful Predictions. She professed to receive her prophecies from a spirit, who communicated to her audibly things about to come to pass, though the voice could be heard by no other person. Sir John Davies was nominated lord chief justice of the king's bench in 1626. Before he was inducted into the office, lady Eleanor, sitting with him on Sunday at dinner, suddenly burst into a passion of tears. Sir John asked her what made her weep. To which she replied, "These are your funeral tears." Sir John turned off the prediction with a merry answer. But in a very few days he was seized with an apoplexy, of which he presently died. [219]--She also predicted the death of the duke of Buckingham in the same year. For this assumption of the gift of prophecy, she was cited before the high-commission-court and examined in 1634. [220] EDWARD FAIRFAX. It is a painful task to record, that Edward Fairfax, the harmonious and elegant translator of Tasso, prosecuted six of his neighbours at York assizes in the year 1622, for witchcraft on his children. "The common facts of imps, fits, and the apparition of the witches, were deposed against the prisoners." The grand jury found the bill, and the accused were arraigned. But, we are told, "the judge, having a certificate of the sober behaviour of the prisoners, directed the jury so well as to induce them to bring in a verdict of acquittal." [221] The poet afterwards drew up a bulky argument and narrative in vindication of his conduct. DOCTOR LAMB. Dr. Lamb was a noted sorcerer in the time of Charles the First. The famous Richard Baxter, in his Certainty of the World of Spirits, printed in 1691, has recorded an appropriate instance of the miraculous performances of this man. Meeting two of his acquaintance in the street, and they having intimated a desire to witness some example of his skill, he invited them home with him. He then conducted them into an inner room, when presently, to their no small surprise, they saw a tree spring up in the middle of the apartment. They had scarcely ceased wondering at this phenomenon, when in a moment there appeared three diminutive men, with little axes in their hands for the purpose of cutting down this tree. The tree was felled; and the doctor dismissed his guests, fully satisfied of the solidity of his pretensions. That very night however a tremendous hurricane arose, causing the house of one of the guests to rock from side to side, with every appearance that the building would come down, and bury him and his wife in the ruins. The wife in great terror asked, "Were you not at Dr. Lamb's to-day?" The husband confessed it was true. "And did you not bring away something from his house?" The husband owned that, when the little men felled the tree, he had been idle enough to pick up some of the chips, and put them in his pocket. Nothing now remained to be done, but to produce the chips, and get rid of them as fast as they could. This ceremony performed, the whirlwind immediately ceased, and the remainder of the night became perfectly calm and serene. Dr. Lamb at length became so odious by his reputation for these infernal practices, that the populace rose upon him in 1640, and tore him to pieces in the streets.--Nor did the effects of his ill fame terminate here. Thirteen years after, a woman, who had been his servant-maid, was apprehended on a charge of witchcraft, was tried, and in expiation of her crime was executed at Tyburn. URBAIN GRANDIER. A few years previously to the catastrophe of Dr. Lamb, there occurred a scene in France which it is eminently to the purpose of this work to record. Urbain Grandier, a canon of the church, and a popular preacher of the town of Loudun in the district of Poitiers, was in the year 1634 brought to trial upon the accusation of magic. The first cause of his being thus called in question was the envy of his rival preachers, whose fame was eclipsed by his superior talents. The second cause was a libel falsely imputed to him upon cardinal Richelieu, who with all his eminent qualities had the infirmity of being inexorable upon the question of any personal attack that was made upon him. Grandier, beside his eloquence, was distinguished for his courage and resolution, for the gracefulness of his figure, and the extraordinary attention he paid to the neatness of his dress and the decoration of his person, which last circumstance brought upon him the imputation of being too much devoted to the service of the fair. About this time certain nuns of the convent of Ursulines at Loudun were attacked with a disease which manifested itself by very extraordinary symptoms, suggesting to many the idea that they were possessed with devils. A rumour was immediately spread that Grandier, urged by some offence he had conceived against these nuns, was the author, by the skill he had in the arts of sorcery, of these possessions. It unfortunately happened, that the same capuchin friar who assured cardinal Richelieu that Grandier was the writer of the libel against him, also communicated to him the story of the possessed nuns, and the suspicion which had fallen on the priest on their account. The cardinal seized with avidity on this occasion of private vengeance, wrote to a counsellor of state at Loudun, one of his creatures, to cause a strict investigation to be made into the charge, and in such terms as plainly implied that what he aimed at was the destruction of Grandier. The trial took place in the month of August 1634; and, according to the authorised copy of the trial, Grandier was convicted upon the evidence of Astaroth, a devil of the order of Seraphims, and chief of the possessing devils, of Easas, of Celsus, of Acaos, of Cedon, of Asmodeus of the order of thrones, of Alex, of Zabulon, of Naphthalim, of Cham, of Uriel, and of Achas of the order of principalities, and sentenced to be burned alive. In other words, he was convicted upon the evidence of twelve nuns, who, being asked who they were, gave in these names, and professed to be devils, that, compelled by the order of the court, delivered a constrained testimony. The sentence was accordingly executed, and Grandier met his fate with heroic constancy. At his death an enormous drone fly was seen buzzing about his head; and a monk, who was present at the execution, attested that, whereas the devils are accustomed to present themselves in the article of death to tempt men to deny God their Saviour, this was Beelzebub, which in Hebrew signifies the God of flies, come to carry away to hell the soul of the victim. [222] ASTROLOGY. The supposed science of astrology is of a nature less tremendous, and less appalling to the imagination, than the commerce with devils and evil spirits, or the raising of the dead from the peace of the tomb to effect certain magical operations, or to instruct the living as to the events that are speedily to befal them. Yet it is well worthy of attention in a work of this sort, if for no other reason, because it has prevailed in almost all nations and ages of the world, and has been assiduously cultivated by men, frequently of great talent, and who were otherwise distinguished for the soundness of their reasoning powers, and for the steadiness and perseverance of their application to the pursuits in which they engaged. The whole of the question was built upon the supposed necessary connection of certain aspects and conjunctions or oppositions of the stars and heavenly bodies, with the events of the world and the characters and actions of men. The human mind has ever confessed an anxiety to pry into the future, and to deal in omens and prophetic suggestions, and, certain coincidences having occurred however fortuitously, to deduce from them rules and maxims upon which to build an anticipation of things to come. Add to which, it is flattering to the pride of man, to suppose all nature concerned with and interested in what is of importance to ourselves. Of this we have an early example in the song of Deborah in the Old Testament, where, in a fit of pious fervour and exaltation, the poet exclaims, "They fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought against Sisera." [223] The general belief in astrology had a memorable effect on the history of the human mind. All men in the first instance have an intuitive feeling of freedom in the acts they perform, and of consequence of praise or blame due to them in just proportion to the integrity or baseness of the motives by which they are actuated. This is in reality the most precious endowment of man. Hence it comes that the good man feels a pride and self-complacency in acts of virtue, takes credit to himself for the independence of his mind, and is conscious of the worth and honour to which he feels that he has a rightful claim. But, if all our acts are predetermined by something out of ourselves, if, however virtuous and honourable are our dispositions, we are overruled by our stars, and compelled to the acts, which, left to ourselves, we should most resolutely disapprove, our condition becomes slavery, and we are left in a state the most abject and hopeless. And, though our situation in this respect is merely imaginary, it does not the less fail to have very pernicious results to our characters. Men, so far as they are believers in astrology, look to the stars, and not to themselves, for an account of what they shall do, and resign themselves to the omnipotence of a fate which they feel it in vain to resist. Of consequence, a belief in astrology has the most unfavourable tendency as to the morality of man; and, were it not that the sense of the liberty of our actions is so strong that all the reasonings in the world cannot subvert it, there would be a fatal close to all human dignity and all human virtue. WILLIAM LILLY. One of the most striking examples of the ascendancy of astrological faith is in the instance of William Lilly. This man has fortunately left us a narrative of his own life; and he comes sufficiently near to our time, to give us a feeling of reality in the transactions in which he was engaged, and to bring the scenes home to our business and bosoms. Before he enters expressly upon the history of his life, he gives us incidentally an anecdote which merits our attention, as tending strongly to illustrate the credulity of man at the periods of which we treat. Lilly was born in the year 1602. When certain circumstances led his yet undetermined thoughts to the study of astrology as his principal pursuit, he put himself in the year 1632 under the tuition of one Evans, whom he describes as poor, ignorant, drunken, presumptuous and knavish, but who had a character, as the phrase was, for erecting a figure, predicting future events, discovering secrets, restoring stolen goods, and even for raising a spirit when he pleased. Sir Kenelm Digby was one of the most promising characters of these times, extremely handsome and graceful in his person, accomplished in all military exercises, endowed with high intellectual powers, and indefatigably inquisitive after knowledge. To render him the more remarkable, he was the eldest son of Everard Digby, who was the most eminent sufferer for the conspiracy of the Gunpowder Treason. It was, as it seems, some time before Lilly became acquainted with Evans, that lord Bothwel and sir Kenelm Digby came to Evans at his lodgings in the Minories, for the express purpose of desiring him to shew them a spirit. Sir Kenelm was born in the year 1603; he must have been therefore at this time a young man, but sufficiently old to know what he sought, and to choose the subjects of his enquiry with a certain discretion. Evans consented to gratify the curiosity of his illustrious visitors. He drew a circle, and placed himself and the two strangers within the circle. He began his invocations. On a sudden, Evans was taken away from the others, and found himself, he knew not how, in Battersea Fields near the Thames. The next morning a countryman discovered him asleep, and, having awaked him, in answer to his enquiries told him where he was. Evans in the afternoon sent a messenger to his wife, to inform her of his safety, and to calm the apprehensions she might reasonably entertain. Just as the messenger arrived, sir Kenelm Digby came to the house, curious to enquire respecting the issue of the adventure of yesterday. Lilly received this story from Evans; and, having asked him how such an event came to attend on the experiment, was answered that, in practising the invocation, he had heedlessly omitted the necessary suffumigation, at which omission the spirit had taken offence. Lilly made some progress in astrology under Evans, and practised the art in minor matters with a certain success; but his ambition led him to aspire to the highest place in his profession. He made an experiment to discover a hidden treasure in Westminster Abbey; and, having obtained leave for that purpose from the bishop of Lincoln, dean of Westminster, he resorted to the spot with about thirty persons more, with divining rods. He fixed on the place according to the rules, and began to dig; but he had not proceeded far, before a furious storm came on, and he judged it advisable to "dismiss the demons," and desist. These supernatural assistants, he says, had taken offence at the number and levity of the persons present; and, if he had not left off when he did, he had no doubt that the storm would have grown more and more violent, till the whole structure would have been laid level with the ground. He purchased himself a house to which to retire in 1636 at Hersham near Walton on Thames, having, though originally bred in the lowest obscurity, twice enriched himself in some degree by marriage. He came to London with a view to practise his favourite art in 1641; but, having received a secret monition warning him that he was not yet sufficiently an adept, he retired again into the country for two years, and did not finally commence his career till 1644, when he published a Prophetical Almanac, which he continued to do till about the time of his death. He then immediately began to rise into considerable notice. Mrs. Lisle, the wife of one of the commissioners of the great seal, took to him the urine of Whitlocke, one of the most eminent lawyers of the time, to consult him respecting the health of the party, when he informed the lady that the person would recover from his present disease, but about a month after would be very dangerously ill of a surfeit, which accordingly happened. He was protected by the great Selden, who interested himself in his favour; and he tells us that Lenthal, speaker of the house of commons, was at all times his friend. He further says of himself that he was originally partial to king Charles and to monarchy: but, when the parliament had apparently the upper hand, he had the skill to play his cards accordingly, and secured his favour with the ruling powers. Whitlocke, in his Memorials of Affairs in his Own Times, takes repeated notice of him, says that, meeting him in the street in the spring of 1645, he enquired of Lilly as to what was likely speedily to happen, who predicted to him the battle of Naseby, and notes in 1648 that some of his prognostications "fell out very strangely, particularly as to the king's fall from his horse about this time." Lilly applied to Whitlocke in favour of his rival, Wharton, the astrologer, and his prayer was granted, and again in behalf of Oughtred, the celebrated mathematician. Lilly and Booker, a brother-astrologer, were sent for in great form, with a coach and four horses, to the head-quarters of Fairfax at Windsor, towards the end of the year 1647, when they told the general, that they were "confident that God would go along with him and his army, till the great work for which they were ordained was perfected, which they hoped would be the conquering their and the parliament's enemies, and a quiet settlement and firm peace over the whole nation." The two astrologers were sent for in the same state in the following year to the siege of Colchester, which they predicted would soon fall into possession of the parliament. Lilly in the mean while retained in secret his partiality to Charles the First. Mrs. Whorwood, a lady who was fully in the king's confidence, came to consult him, as to the place to which Charles should retire when he escaped from Hampton Court. Lilly prescribed accordingly; but Ashburnham disconcerted all his measures, and the king made his inauspicious retreat to the isle of Wight. Afterwards he was consulted by the same lady, as to the way in which Charles should proceed respecting the negociations with the parliamentary commissioners at Newport, when Lilly advised that the king should sign all the propositions, and come up immediately with the commissioners to London, in which case Lilly did not doubt that the popular tide would turn in his favour, and the royal cause prove triumphant. Finally, he tells us that he furnished the saw and _aqua fortis_, with which the king had nearly removed the bars of the window of his prison in Carisbrook Castle, and escaped. But Charles manifested the same irresolution at the critical moment in this case, which had before proved fatal to his success. In the year 1649 Lilly received a pension of one hundred pounds _per annum_ from the council of state, which, after having been paid him for two years, he declined to accept any longer. In 1659 he received a present of a gold chain and medal from Charles X king of Sweden, in acknowledgment of the respectful mention he had made of that monarch in his almanacs. Lilly lived to a considerable age, not having died till the year 1681. In the year 1666 he was summoned before a committee of the house of commons, on the frivolous ground that, in his Monarchy or No Monarchy published fifteen years before, he had introduced sixteen plates, among which was one, the eighth, representing persons digging graves, with coffins, and other emblems significative of mortality, and, in the thirteenth, a city in flames. He was asked whether these things referred to the late plague and fire of London. Lilly replied in a manner to intimate that they did; but he ingenuously confessed that he had not known in what year they would happen. He said, that he had given these emblematical representations without any comment, that those who were competent might apprehend their meaning, whilst the rest of the world remained in the ignorance which was their appointed portion. MATTHEW HOPKINS. Nothing can place the credulity of the English nation on the subject of witchcraft about this time, in a more striking point of view, than the history of Matthew Hopkins, who, in a pamphlet published in 1647 in his own vindication, assumes to himself the surname of the Witch-finder. He fell by accident, in his native county of Suffolk, into contact with one or two reputed witches, and, being a man of an observing turn and an ingenious invention, struck out for himself a trade, which brought him such moderate returns as sufficed to maintain him, and at the same time gratified his ambition by making him a terror to many, and the object of admiration and gratitude to more, who felt themselves indebted to him for ridding them of secret and intestine enemies, against whom, as long as they proceeded in ways that left no footsteps behind, they felt they had no possibility of guarding themselves. Hopkins's career was something like that of Titus Oates in the following reign, but apparently much safer for the adventurer, since Oates armed against himself a very formidable party, while Hopkins seemed to assail a few only here and there, who were poor, debilitated, impotent and helpless. After two or three successful experiments, Hopkins engaged in a regular tour of the counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex and Huntingdonshire. He united to him two confederates, a man named John Stern, and a woman whose name has not been handed down to us. They visited every town in their route that invited them, and secured to them the moderate remuneration of twenty shillings and their expences, leaving what was more than this to the spontaneous gratitude of those who should deem themselves indebted to the exertions of Hopkins and his party. By this expedient they secured to themselves a favourable reception; and a set of credulous persons who would listen to their dictates as so many oracles. Being three of them, they were enabled to play the game into one another's hands, and were sufficiently strong to overawe all timid and irresolute opposition. In every town to which they came, they enquired for reputed witches, and having taken them into custody, were secure for the most part of a certain number of zealous abettors, who took care that they should have a clear stage for their experiments. They overawed their helpless victims with a certain air of authority, as if they had received a commission from heaven for the discovery of misdeeds. They assailed the poor creatures with a multitude of questions constructed in the most artful manner. They stripped them naked, in search for the devil's marks in different parts of their bodies, which were ascertained by running pins to the head into those parts, that, if they were genuine marks, would prove themselves such by their insensibility. They swam their victims in rivers and ponds, it being an undoubted fact, that, if the persons accused were true witches, the water, which was the symbol of admission into the Christian church, would not receive them into its bosom. If the persons examined continued obstinate, they seated them in constrained and uneasy attitudes, occasionally binding them with cords, and compelling them to remain so without food or sleep for twenty-four hours. They walked them up and down the room, two taking them under each arm, till they dropped down with fatigue. They carefully swept the room in which the experiment was made, that they might keep away spiders and flies, which were supposed to be devils or their imps in that disguise. The most plentiful inquisition of Hopkins and his confederates was in the years 1644, 1645 and 1646. At length there were so many persons committed to prison upon suspicion of witchcraft, that the government was compelled to take in hand the affair. The rural magistrates before whom Hopkins and his confederates brought their victims, were obliged, willingly or unwillingly, to commit them for trial. A commission was granted to the earl of Warwick and others to hold a sessions of jail-delivery against them for Essex at Chelmsford, Lord Warwick was at this time the most popular nobleman in England. He was appointed by the parliament lord high admiral during the civil war. He was much courted by the independent clergy, was shrewd, penetrating and active, and exhibited a singular mixture of pious demeanour with a vein of facetiousness and jocularity. With him was sent Dr. Calamy, the most eminent divine of the period of the Commonwealth, to see (says Baxter [224]) that no fraud was committed, or wrong done to the parties accused. It may well be doubted however whether the presence of this clergyman did not operate unfavourably to the persons suspected. He preached before the judges. It may readily be believed, considering the temper of the times, that he insisted much upon the horrible nature of the sin of witchcraft, which could expect no pardon, either in this world or the world to come. He sat on the bench with the judges, and participated in their deliberations. In the result of this inquisition sixteen persons were hanged at Yarmouth in Norfolk, fifteen at Chelmsford, and sixty at various places in the county of Suffolk. Whitlocke in his Memorials of English Affairs, under the date of 1649, speaks of many witches being apprehended about Newcastle, upon the information of a person whom he calls the Witch-finder, who, as his experiments were nearly the same, though he is not named, we may reasonably suppose to be Hopkins; and in the following year about Boston in Lincolnshire. In 1652 and 1653 the same author speaks of women in Scotland, who were put to incredible torture to extort from them a confession of what their adversaries imputed to them. The fate of Hopkins was such us might be expected in similar cases. The multitude are at first impressed with horror at the monstrous charges that are advanced. They are seized, as by contagion, with terror at the mischiefs which seem to impend over them, and from which no innocence and no precaution appear to afford them sufficient protection. They hasten, as with an unanimous effort, to avenge themselves upon these malignant enemies, whom God and man alike combine to expel from society. But, after a time, they begin to reflect, and to apprehend that they have acted with too much precipitation, that they have been led on with uncertain appearances. They see one victim led to the gallows after another, without stint or limitation. They see one dying with the most solemn asseverations of innocence, and another confessing apparently she knows not what, what is put into her mouth by her relentless persecutors. They see these victims, old, crazy and impotent, harassed beyond endurance by the ingenious cruelties that are practised against them. They were first urged on by implacable hostility and fury, to be satisfied with nothing but blood. But humanity and remorse also have their turn. Dissatisfied with themselves, they are glad to point their resentment against another. The man that at first they hailed as a public benefactor, they presently come to regard with jealous eyes, and begin to consider as a cunning impostor, dealing in cool blood with the lives of his fellow-creatures for a paltry gain, and, still more horrible, for the lure of a perishable and short-lived fame. The multitude, we are told, after a few seasons, rose upon Hopkins, and resolved to subject him to one of his own criterions. They dragged him to a pond, and threw him into the water for a witch. It seems he floated on the surface, as a witch ought to do. They then pursued him with hootings and revilings, and drove him for ever into that obscurity and ignominy which he had amply merited. CROMWEL. There is a story of Cromwel recorded by Echard, the historian, which well deserves to be mentioned, as strikingly illustrative of the credulity which prevailed about this period. It takes its date from the morning of the third of September, 1651, when Cromwel gained the battle of Worcester against Charles the Second, which he was accustomed to call by a name sufficiently significant, his "crowning victory." It is told on the authority of a colonel Lindsey, who is said to have been an intimate friend of the usurper, and to have been commonly known by that name, as being in reality the senior captain in Cromwel's own regiment. "On this memorable morning the general," it seems, "took this officer with him to a woodside not far from the army, and bade him alight, and follow him into that wood, and to take particular notice of what he saw and heard. After having alighted, and secured their horses, and walked some little way into the wood, Lindsey began to turn pale, and to be seized with horror from some unknown cause. Upon which Cromwel asked him how he did, or how he felt himself. He answered, that he was in such a trembling and consternation, that he had never felt the like in all the conflicts and battles he had ever been engaged in: but whether it proceeded from the gloominess of the place, or the temperature of his body, he knew not. 'How now?' said Cromwel, 'What, troubled with the vapours? Come forward, man.' They had not gone above twenty yards further, before Lindsey on a sudden stood still, and cried out, 'By all that is good I am seized with such unaccountable terror and astonishment, that it is impossible for me to stir one step further.' Upon which Cromwel called him, 'Fainthearted fool!' and bade him, 'stand there, and observe, or be witness.' And then the general, advancing to some distance from him, met a grave, elderly man with a roll of parchment in his hand, who delivered it to Cromwel, and he eagerly perused it, Lindsey, a little recovered from his fear, heard several loud words between them: particularly Cromwel said, 'This is but for seven years; I was to have had it for one-and-twenty; and it must, and shall be so.' The other told him positively, it could not be for more than seven. Upon which Cromwel cried with great fierceness, 'It shall however be for fourteen years.' But the other peremptorily declared, 'It could not possibly be for any longer time; and, if he would not take it so, there were others that would.' Upon which Cromwel at last took the parchment: and, returning to Lindsey with great joy in his countenance, he cried, 'Now, Lindsey, the battle is our own! I long to be engaged.' Returning out of the wood, they rode to the army, Cromwel with a resolution to engage as soon as possible, and the other with a design to leave the army as soon. After the first charge, Lindsey deserted his post, and rode away with all possible speed day and night, till he came into the county of Norfolk, to the house of an intimate friend, one Mr. Thoroughgood, minister of the parish of Grimstone. Cromwel, as soon as he missed him, sent all ways after him, with a promise of a great reward to any that should bring him alive or dead. When Mr. Thoroughgood saw his friend Lindsey come into his yard, his horse and himself much tired, in a sort of a maze, he said, 'How now, colonel? We hear there is likely to be a battle shortly: what, fled from your colours?' 'A battle,' said the other; 'yes there has been a battle, and I am sure the king is beaten. But, if ever I strike a stroke for Cromwel again, may I perish eternally! For I am sure he has made a league with the devil, and the devil will have him in due time.' Then, desiring his protection from Cromwel's inquisitors, he went in, and related to him the story in all its circumstances." It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that Cromwel died on that day seven years, September the third, 1658. Echard adds, to prove his impartiality as an historian, "How far Lindsey is to be believed, and how far the story is to be accounted incredible, is left to the reader's faith and judgment, and not to any determination of our own." DOROTHY MATELEY. I find a story dated about this period, which, though it does not strictly belong to the subject of necromancy or dealings with the devil, seems well to deserve to be inserted in this work. The topic of which I treat is properly of human credulity; and this infirmity of our nature can scarcely be more forcibly illustrated than in the following example. It is recorded by the well-known John Bunyan, in a fugitive tract of his, entitled the Life and Death of Mr. Badman, but which has since been inserted in the works of the author in two volumes folio. In minuteness of particularity and detail it may vie with almost any story which human industry has collected, and human simplicity has ever placed upon record. "There was," says my author, "a poor woman, by name Dorothy Mateley, who lived at a small village, called Ashover, in the county of Derby. The way in which she earned her subsistence, was by washing the rubbish that came from the lead-mines in that neighbourhood through a sieve, which labour she performed till the earth had passed the sieve, and what remained was particles and small portions of genuine ore. This woman was of exceedingly low and coarse habits, and was noted to be a profane swearer, curser, liar and thief; and her usual way of asserting things was with an imprecation, as, 'I would I might sink into the earth, if it be not so,' or, 'I would that God would make the earth open and swallow me up, if I tell an untruth.' "Now it happened on the 23rd of March, 1660, [according to our computation 1661], that she was washing ore on the top of a steep hill about a quarter of a mile from Ashover, when a lad who was working on the spot missed two-pence out of his pocket, and immediately bethought himself of charging Dorothy with the theft. He had thrown off his breeches, and was working in his drawers. Dorothy with much seeming indignation denied the charge, and added, as was usual with her, that she wished the ground might open and swallow her up, if she had the boy's money. "One George Hopkinson, a man of good report in Ashover, happened to pass at no great distance at the time. He stood a while to talk to the woman. There stood also near the tub a little child, who was called to by her elder sister to come away. Hopkinson therefore took the little girl by the hand to lead her to her that called her. But he had not gone ten yards from Dorothy, when he heard her crying out for help, and turning back, to his great astonishment he saw the woman, with her tub and her sieve, twirling round and round, and sinking at the same time in the earth. She sunk about three yards, and then stopped, at the same time calling lustily for assistance. But at that very moment a great stone fell upon her head, and broke her skull, and the earth fell in and covered her. She was afterwards digged up, and found about four yards under ground, and the boy's two pennies were discovered on her person, but the tub and the sieve had altogether disappeared." WITCHES HANGED BY SIR MATTHEW HALE. One of the most remarkable trials that occur in the history of criminal jurisprudence, was that of Amy Duny and Rose Cullender at Bury St. Edmund's in the year 1664. Not for the circumstances that occasioned it; for they were of the coarsest and most vulgar materials. The victims were two poor, solitary women of the town of Lowestoft in Suffolk, who had by temper and demeanour rendered themselves particularly obnoxious to their whole neighbourhood. Whenever they were offended with any one, and this frequently happened, they vented their wrath in curses and ill language, muttered between their teeth, and the sense of which could scarcely be collected; and ever and anon they proceeded to utter dark predictions of evil, which should happen in revenge for the ill treatment they received. The fishermen would not sell them fish; and the boys in the street were taught to fly from them with horror, or to pursue them with hootings and scurrilous abuse. The principal charges against them were, that the children of two families were many times seized with fits, in which they exclaimed that they saw Amy Duny and Rose Cullender coming to torment them. They vomited, and in their vomit were often found pins, and once or twice a two-penny nail. One or two of the children died; for the accusations spread over a period of eight years, from 1656 to the time of the trial. To back these allegations, a waggoner appeared, whose waggon had been twice overturned in one morning, in consequence of the curses of one of the witches, the waggon having first run against her hovel, and materially injured it. Another time the waggon stuck fast in a gate-way, though the posts on neither side came in contact with the wheels; and, one of the posts being cut down, the waggon passed easily along. This trial, as I have said, was no way memorable for the circumstances that occasioned it, but for the importance of the persons who were present, and had a share in the conduct of it. The judge who presided was sir Matthew Hale, then chief baron of the exchequer, and who had before rendered himself remarkable for his undaunted resistance to one of the arbitrary mandates of Cromwel, then in the height of his power, which was addressed to Hale in his capacity of judge. Hale was also an eminent author, who had treated upon the abstrusest subjects, and was equally distinguished for his piety and inflexible integrity. Another person, who was present, and accidentally took part in the proceedings, was sir Thomas Browne, the superlatively eloquent and able author of the Religio Medici. (He likewise took a part on the side of superstition in the trial of the Lancashire witches in 1634.) A judge also who assisted at the trial was Keeling, who afterwards occupied the seat of chief justice. Sir Matthew Hale apparently paid deep attention to the trial, and felt much perplexed by the evidence. Seeing sir Thomas Browne in court, and knowing him for a man of extensive information and vast powers of intellect, Hale appealed to him, somewhat extrajudicially, for his thoughts on what had transpired. Sir Thomas gave it as his opinion that the children were bewitched, and inforced his position by something that had lately occured in Denmark. Keeling dissented from this, and inclined to the belief that it might all be practice, and that there was nothing supernatural in the affair. The chief judge was cautious in his proceeding. He even refused to sum up the evidence, lest he might unawares put a gloss of his own upon any thing that had been sworn, but left it all to the jury. He told them that the Scriptures left no doubt that there was such a thing as witchcraft, and instructed them that all they had to do was, first, to consider whether the children were really bewitched, and secondly, whether the witchcraft was sufficiently brought home to the prisoners at the bar. The jury returned a verdict of guilty; and the two women were hanged on the seventeenth of March 1664, one week after their trial. The women shewed very little activity during the trial, and died protesting their innocence. [225] This trial is particularly memorable for the circumstances that attended it. It has none of the rust of ages: no obscurity arises from a long vista of years interposed between. Sir Matthew Hale and sir Thomas Browne are eminent authors; and there is something in such men, that in a manner renders them the contemporaries of all times, the living acquaintance of successive ages of the world. Names generally stand on the page of history as mere abstract idealities; but in the case of these men we are familiar with their tempers and prejudices, their virtues and vices, their strength and their weakness. They proceed in the first place upon the assumption that there is such a thing as witchcraft, and therefore have nothing to do but with the cogency or weakness of evidence as applied to this particular case. Now what are the premises on which they proceed in this question? They believe in a God, omniscient, all wise, all powerful, and whose "tender mercies are over all his works." They believe in a devil, awful almost as God himself, for he has power nearly unlimited, and a will to work all evil, with subtlety, deep reach of thought, vigilant, "walking about, seeking whom he may devour." This they believe, for they refer to "the Scriptures, as confirming beyond doubt that there is such a thing as witchcraft." Now what office do they assign to the devil, "the prince of the power of the air," at whose mighty attributes, combined with his insatiable malignity, the wisest of us might well stand aghast? It is the first law of sound sense and just judgment, --_servetur ad imum, Qualis ab incoepto processerit, et sibi constet_; that every character which we place on the scene of things should demean himself as his beginning promises, and preserve a consistency that, to a mind sufficiently sagacious, should almost serve us in lieu of the gift of prophecy. And how is this devil employed according to sir Matthew Hale and sir Thomas Browne? Why in proffering himself as the willing tool of the malice of two doting old women. In afflicting with fits, in causing them to vomit pins and nails, the children of the parents who had treated the old women with barbarity and cruelty. In judgment upon these women sit two men, in some respects the most enlightened of an age that produced Paradise Lost, and in confirmation of this blessed creed two women are executed in cool blood, in a country which had just achieved its liberties under the guidance and the virtues of Hampden. What right we have in any case to take away the life of a human being already in our power, and under the forms of justice, is a problem, one of the hardest that can be proposed for the wit of man to solve. But to see some of the wisest of men, sitting in judgment upon the lives of two human creatures in consequence of the forgery and tricks of a set of malicious children, as in this case undoubtedly it was, is beyond conception deplorable. Let us think for a moment of the inexpressible evils which a man encounters when dragged from his peaceful home under a capital accusation, of his arraignment in open court, of the orderly course of the evidence, and of the sentence awarded against him, of the "damned minutes and days he counts over" from that time to his execution, of his being finally brought forth before a multitude exasperated by his supposed crimes, and his being cast out from off the earth as unworthy so much as to exist among men, and all this being wholly innocent. The consciousness of innocence a hundred fold embitters the pang. And, if these poor women were too obtuse of soul entirely to feel the pang, did that give their superiors a right to overwhelm and to crush them? WITCHCRAFT IN SWEDEN. The story of witchcraft, as it is reported to have passed in Sweden in the year 1670, and has many times been reprinted in this country, is on several accounts one of the most interesting and deplorable that has ever been recorded. The scene lies in Dalecarlia, a country for ever memorable as having witnessed some of the earliest adventures of Gustavus Vasa, his deepest humiliation, and the first commencement of his prosperous fortune. The Dalecarlians are represented to us as the simplest, the most faithful, and the bravest of the sons of men, men undebauched and unsuspicious, but who devoted themselves in the most disinterested manner for a cause that appeared to them worthy of support, the cause of liberty and independence against the cruelest of tyrants. At least such they were in 1520, one hundred and fifty years before the date of the story we are going to recount.--The site of these events was at Mohra and Elfdale in the province that has just been mentioned. The Dalecarlians, simple and ignorant, but of exemplary integrity and honesty, who dwelt amidst impracticable mountains and spacious mines of copper and iron, were distinguished for superstition among the countries of the north, where all were superstitious. They were probably subject at intervals to the periodical visitation of alarms of witches, when whole races of men became wild with the infection without any one's being well able to account for it. In the year 1670, and one or two preceding years, there was a great alarm of witches in the town of Mohra. There were always two or three witches existing in some of the obscure quarters of this place. But now they increased in number, and shewed their faces with the utmost audacity. Their mode on the present occasion was to make a journey through the air to Blockula, an imaginary scene of retirement, which none but the witches and their dupes had ever seen. Here they met with feasts and various entertainments, which it seems had particular charms for the persons who partook of them. The witches used to go into a field in the environs of Mohra, and cry aloud to the devil in a peculiar sort of recitation, "Antecessor, come and carry us to Blockula!" Then appeared a multitude of strange beasts, men, spits, posts, and goats with spits run through their entrails and projecting behind that all might have room. The witches mounted these beasts of burthen or vehicles, and were conveyed through the air over high walls and mountains, and through churches and chimneys, without perceptible impediment, till they arrived at the place of their destination. Here the devil feasted them with various compounds and confections, and, having eaten to their hearts' content, they danced, and then fought. The devil made them ride on spits, from which they were thrown; and the devil beat them with the spits, and laughed at them. He then caused them to build a house to protect them against the day of judgment, and presently overturned the walls of the house, and derided them again. All sorts of obscenities were reported to follow upon these scenes. The devil begot on the witches sons and daughters: this new generation intermarried again, and the issue of this further conjunction appears to have been toads and serpents. How all this pedigree proceeded in the two or three years in which Blockula had ever been heard of, I know not that the witches were ever called on to explain. But what was most of all to be deplored, the devil was not content with seducing the witches to go and celebrate this infernal sabbath; he further insisted that they should bring the children of Mohra along with them. At first he was satisfied, if each witch brought one; but now he demanded that each witch should bring six or seven for her quota. How the witches managed with the minds of the children we are at a loss to guess. These poor, harmless innocents, steeped to the very lips in ignorance and superstition, were by some means kept in continual alarm by the wicked, or, to speak more truly, the insane old women, and said as their prompters said. It does not appear that the children ever left their beds, at the time they reported they had been to Blockula. Their parents watched them with fearful anxiety. At a certain time of the night the children were seized with a strange shuddering, their limbs were agitated, and their skins covered with a profuse perspiration. When they came to themselves, they related that they had been to Blockula, and the strange things they had seen, similar to what had already been described by the women. Three hundred children of various ages are said to have been seized with this epidemic. The whole town of Mohra became subject to the infection, and were overcome with the deepest affliction. They consulted together, and drew up a petition to the royal council at Stockholm, intreating that they would discover some remedy, and that the government would interpose its authority to put an end to a calamity to which otherwise they could find no limit. The king of Sweden was at that time Charles the Eleventh, father of Charles the Twelfth, and was only fourteen years of age. His council in their wisdom deputed two commissioners to Mohra, and furnished them with powers to examine witnesses, and to take whatever proceedings they might judge necessary to put an end to so unspeakable a calamity. They entered on the business of their commission on the thirteenth of August, the ceremony having been begun with two sermons in the great church of Mohra, in which we may be sure the damnable sin of witchcraft was fully dilated on, and concluding with prayers to Almighty God that in his mercy he would speedily bring to an end the tremendous misfortune, with which for their sins he had seen fit to afflict the poor people of Mohra. The next day they opened their commission. Seventy witches were brought before them. They were all at first stedfast in their denial, alleging that the charges were wantonly brought against them, solely from malice and ill will. But the judges were earnest in pressing them, till at length first one, and then another; burst into tears, and confessed all. Twenty-three were prevailed on thus to disburthen their consciences; but nearly the whole, as well those who owned the justice of their sentence, as those who protested their innocence to the last, were executed. Fifteen children confessed their guilt, and were also executed. Thirty-six other children (who we may infer did not confess), between the ages of nine and sixteen, were condemned to run the gauntlet, and to be whipped on their hands at the church-door every Sunday for a year together. Twenty others were whipped on their hands for three Sundays. [226] This is certainly a very deplorable scene, and is made the more so by the previous character which history has impressed on us, of the simplicity, integrity, and generous love of liberty of the Dalecarlians. For the children and their parents we can feel nothing but unmingled pity. The case of the witches is different. That three hundred children should have been made the victims of this imaginary witchcraft is doubtless a grievous calamity. And that a number of women should have been found so depraved and so barbarous, as by their incessant suggestions to have practised on the minds of these children, so as to have robbed them of sober sense, to have frightened them into fits and disease, and made them believe the most odious impossibilities, argued a most degenerate character, and well merited severe reprobation, but not death. Add to which, many of these women may be believed innocent, otherwise a great majority of those who were executed, would not have died protesting their entire freedom from what was imputed to them. Some of the parents no doubt, from folly and ill judgment, aided the alienation of mind in their children which they afterwards so deeply deplored, and gratified their senseless aversion to the old women, when they were themselves in many cases more the real authors of the evil than those who suffered. WITCHCRAFT IN NEW ENGLAND. As a story of witchcraft, without any poetry in it, without any thing to amuse the imagination, or interest the fancy, but hard, prosy, and accompanied with all that is wretched, pitiful and withering, perhaps the well known story of the New England witchcraft surpasses every thing else upon record. The New Englanders were at this time, towards the close of the seventeenth century, rigorous Calvinists, with long sermons and tedious monotonous prayers, with hell before them for ever on one side, and a tyrannical, sour and austere God on the other, jealous of an arbitrary sovereignty, who hath "mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth." These men, with long and melancholy faces, with a drawling and sanctified tone, and a carriage that would "at once make the most severely disposed merry, and the most cheerful spectators sad," constituted nearly the entire population of the province of Massachuset's Bay. The prosecutions for witchcraft continued with little intermission principally at Salem, during the greater part of the year 1692. The accusations were of the most vulgar and contemptible sort, invisible pinchings and blows, fits, with the blastings and mortality of cattle, and wains stuck fast in the ground, or losing their wheels. A conspicuous feature in nearly the whole of these stories was what they named the "spectral sight;" in other words, that the profligate accusers first feigned for the most part the injuries they received, and next saw the figures and action of the persons who inflicted them, when they were invisible to every one else. Hence the miserable prosecutors gained the power of gratifying the wantonness of their malice, by pretending that they suffered by the hand of any one whose name first presented itself, or against whom they bore an ill will. The persons so charged, though unseen by any but the accuser, and who in their corporal presence were at a distance of miles, and were doubtless wholly unconscious of the mischief that was hatching against them, were immediately taken up, and cast into prison. And what was more monstrous and incredible, there stood at the bar the prisoner on trial for his life, while the witnesses were permitted to swear that his spectre had haunted them, and afflicted them with all manner of injuries. That the poor prosecuted wretch stood astonished at what was alleged against him, was utterly overwhelmed with the charges, and knew not what to answer, was all of it interpreted as so many presumptions of his guilt. Ignorant as they were, they were unhappy and unskilful in their defence; and, if they spoke of the devil, as was but natural, it was instantly caught at as a proof how familiar they were with the fiend that had seduced them to their damnation. The first specimen of this sort of accusation in the present instance was given by one Paris, minister of a church at Salem, in the end of the year 1691, who had two daughters, one nine years old, the other eleven, that were afflicted with fits and convulsions. The first person fixed on as the mysterious author of what was seen, was Tituba, a female slave in the family, and she was harassed by her master into a confession of unlawful practices and spells. The girls then fixed on Sarah Good, a female known to be the victim of a morbid melancholy, and Osborne, a poor man that had for a considerable time been bed-rid, as persons whose spectres had perpetually haunted and tormented them: and Good was twelve months after hanged on this accusation. A person, who was one of the first to fall under the imputation, was one George Burroughs, also a minister of Salem. He had, it seems, buried two wives, both of whom the busy gossips said he had used ill in their life-time, and consequently, it was whispered, had murdered them. This man was accustomed foolishly to vaunt that he knew what people said of him in his absence; and this was brought as a proof that he dealt with the devil. Two women, who were witnesses against him, interrupted their testimony with exclaiming that they saw the ghosts of the murdered wives present (who had promised them they would come), though no one else in the court saw them; and this was taken in evidence. Burroughs conducted himself in a very injudicious way on his trial; but, when he came to be hanged, made so impressive a speech on the ladder, with fervent protestations of innocence, as melted many of the spectators into tears. The nature of accusations of this sort is ever found to operate like an epidemic. Fits and convulsions are communicated from one subject to another. The "spectral sight," as it was called, is obviously a theme for the vanity of ignorance. "Love of fame," as the poet teaches, is an "universal passion." Fame is placed indeed on a height beyond the hope of ordinary mortals. But in occasional instances it is brought unexpectedly within the reach of persons of the coarsest mould; and many times they will be apt to seize it with proportionable avidity. When too such things are talked of, when the devil and spirits of hell are made familiar conversation, when stories of this sort are among the daily news, and one person and another, who had a little before nothing extraordinary about them, become subjects of wonder, these topics enter into the thoughts of many, sleeping and waking: "their young men see visions, and their old men dream dreams." In such a town as Salem, the second in point of importance in the colony, such accusations spread with wonderful rapidity. Many were seized with fits, exhibited frightful contortions of their limbs and features, and became a fearful spectacle to the bystander. They were asked to assign the cause of all this; and they supposed, or pretended to suppose, some neighbour, already solitary and afflicted, and on that account in ill odour with the townspeople, scowling upon, threatening, and tormenting them. Presently persons, specially gifted with the "spectral sight," formed a class by themselves, and were sent about at the public expence from place to place, that they might see what no one else could see. The prisons were filled with the persons accused. The utmost horror was entertained, as of a calamity which in such a degree had never visited that part of the world. It happened, most unfortunately, that Baxter's Certainty of the World of Spirits had been published but the year before, and a number of copies had been sent out to New England. There seemed a strange coincidence and sympathy between vital Christianity in its most honourable sense, and the fear of the devil, who appeared to be "come down unto them, with great wrath." Mr. Increase Mather, and Mr. Cotton Mather, his son, two clergymen of highest reputation in the neighbourhood, by the solemnity and awe with which they treated the subject, and the earnestness and zeal which they displayed, gave a sanction to the lowest superstition and virulence of the ignorant. All the forms of justice were brought forward on this occasion. There was no lack of judges, and grand juries, and petty juries, and executioners, and still less of prosecutors and witnesses. The first person that was hanged was on the tenth of June, five more on the nineteenth of July, five on the nineteenth of August, and eight on the twenty-second of September. Multitudes confessed that they were witches; for this appeared the only way for the accused to save their lives. Husbands and children fell down on their knees, and implored their wives and mothers to own their guilt. Many were tortured by being tied neck and heels together, till they confessed whatever was suggested to them. It is remarkable however that not one persisted in her confession at the place of execution. The most interesting story that occurred in this affair was of Giles Cory, and Martha, his wife. The woman was tried on the ninth of September, and hanged on the twenty-second. In the interval, on the sixteenth, the husband was brought up for trial. He said, he was not guilty; but, being asked how he would be tried? he refused to go through the customary form, and say, "By God and my country." He observed that, of all that had been tried, not one had as yet been pronounced not guilty; and he resolutely refused in that mode to undergo a trial. The judge directed therefore that, according to the barbarous mode prescribed in the mother-country, he should be laid on his back, and pressed to death with weights gradually accumulated on the upper surface of his body, a proceeding which had never yet been resorted to by the English in North America. The man persisted in his resolution, and remained mute till he expired. The whole of this dreadful tragedy was kept together by a thread. The spectre-seers for a considerable time prudently restricted their accusations to persons of ill repute, or otherwise of no consequence in the community. By and by however they lost sight of this caution, and pretended they saw the figures of some persons well connected, and of unquestioned honour and reputation, engaged in acts of witchcraft. Immediately the whole fell through in a moment. The leading inhabitants presently saw how unsafe it would be to trust their reputations and their lives to the mercy of these profligate accusers. Of fifty-six bills of indictment that were offered to the grand-jury on the third of January, 1693, twenty-six only were found true bills, and thirty thrown out. On the twenty-six bills that were found, three persons only were pronounced guilty by the petty jury, and these three received their pardon from the government. The prisons were thrown open; fifty confessed witches, together with two hundred persons imprisoned on suspicion, were set at liberty, and no more accusations were heard of. The "afflicted," as they were technically termed, recovered their health; the "spectral sight" was universally scouted; and men began to wonder how they could ever have been the victims of so horrible a delusion. [227] CONCLUSION. The volume of records of supposed necromancy and witchcraft is sufficiently copious, without its being in any way necessary to trace it through its latest relics and fragments. Superstition is so congenial to the mind of man, that, even in the early years of the author of the present volume, scarcely a village was unfurnished with an old man or woman who laboured under an ill repute on this score; and I doubt not many remain to this very day. I remember, when a child, that I had an old woman pointed out to me by an ignorant servant-maid, as being unquestionably possessed of the ominous gift of the "evil eye," and that my impulse was to remove myself as quickly as might be from the range of her observation. But witchcraft, as it appears to me, is by no means so desirable a subject as to make one unwilling to drop it. It has its uses. It is perhaps right that we should be somewhat acquainted with this repulsive chapter in the annals of human nature. As the wise man says in the Bible, "It is good for us to resort to the house of those that mourn;" for there is a melancholy which is attended with beneficial effects, and "by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better." But I feel no propensity to linger in these dreary abodes, and would rather make a speedy exchange for the dwellings of healthfulness and a certain hilarity. We will therefore with the reader's permission at length shut the book, and say, "Lo, it is enough." There is no time perhaps at which we can more fairly quit the subject, than when the more enlightened governments of Europe have called for the code of their laws, and have obliterated the statute which annexed the penalty of death to this imaginary crime. So early as the year 1672, Louis XIV promulgated an order of the council of state, forbidding the tribunals from proceeding to judgment in cases where the accusation was of sorcery only. [228] In England we paid a much later tribute to the progress of illumination and knowledge; and it was not till the year 1736 that a statute was passed, repealing the law made in the first year of James I, and enacting that no capital prosecution should for the future take place for conjuration, sorcery and enchantment, but restricting the punishment of persons pretending to tell fortunes and discover stolen goods by witchcraft, to that appertaining to a misdemeanour. As long as death could by law be awarded against those who were charged with a commerce with evil spirits, and by their means inflicting mischief on their species, it is a subject not unworthy of grave argument and true philanthropy, to endeavour to detect the fallacy of such pretences, and expose the incalculable evils and the dreadful tragedies that have grown out of accusations and prosecutions for such imaginary crimes. But the effect of perpetuating the silly and superstitious tales that have survived this mortal blow, is exactly opposite. It only serves to keep alive the lingering folly of imbecile minds, and still to feed with pestiferous clouds the thoughts of the ignorant. Let us rather hail with heart-felt gladness the light which has, though late, broken in upon us, and weep over the calamity of our forefathers, who, in addition to the inevitable ills of our sublunary state, were harassed with imaginary terrors, and haunted by suggestions, Whose horrid image did unfix their hair, And make their seated hearts knock at their ribs, Against the use of nature. THE END. FOOTNOTES [1] Joshua, vii. 16, _et seq_. [2] De Arte Poetica, v. 150. [3] Romans, xi. 32. [4] Comte de Gabalis. [5] Genesis xli, 8, 25, &c. [6] Exodus, vii. 11; viii. 19. [7] Ibid, xxii. 18. [8] Deuteronomy, xviii. 10,11. [9] Leviticus, xx. 27. [10] Numbers, xxii. 5,6,7. [11] Numbers, xxiv, 1. [12] Ibid, xxiii. 23. [13] 1 Sam. xxviii. 6, _et seq_. [14] 2 Kings, xxi. 6. [15] 1 Kings, xxii. 20, _et seqq_. [16] 1 Chron. xxi. 1,7,14. [17] 2 Kings, i. 2,3,4. [18] Matthew, xii. 24. [19] Genesis, xliv. 5. [20] Genesis, xliv. 15. [21] Brewster on Natural Magic, Letter IX. [22] De Natura Deorum, Lib. I, c. 38. [23] Plato, De Republica, Lib. X, _sub finem_. [24] Batrachos, v. 1032. [25] De Arte Poetica, v.391. [26] Memoires de l'Academie des Inscriptions, Tom. V, p. 117. [27] De Arte Poetica, v. 391, 2, 3. [28] Virgil, Georgiea, Lib. IV. v. 461, _et seqq_. [29] Georgiea, iv, 525. [30] Metamorphoses, xi, 55. [31] Philostratus, Heroica, cap. v. [32] Horat, de Arte Poetica, v. 394. Pausanias. [33] Odyssey, Lib. XI, v. 262. [34] Statius, Thebais, Lib. X. v. 599. [35] Ibid, Lib. IV, v. 599. [36] Ibid, Lib. IV, v. 409, _et seqq_. [37] Lib. IV, c. 36. [38] Iamblichus. [39] Julius Firmicus, _apud_ Scaliger, in Eusebium. [40] Iamblichus, Vita Pythagorae. [41] Pluto, Charmides. [42] Chronological Account of Pythagoras and his Contemporaries. [43] Laertius, Lib. VIII, c. 3. [44] Lloyd, _ubi supra_. [45] Iamblichus, c. 17. [46] Iamblichus, c. 29. [47] Ibid, c. 7. [48] Laertius, c. 15. [49] Ibid, c. 11. [50] Plutarchus, Symposiaca, Lib. VIII, Quaestio 2. [51] Aulus Gellius, Lib. I, c. 1, from Plutarch. [52] Laertius, c.19. [53] Bailly, Histoire de l'Astronomie, Lib VIII, S.3. [54] Plutarchus, de Esu Carnium. Ovidius, Metamorphoses, Lib. XV. Laertius, c. 12. [55] Iamblichus, c. 16. [56] Laertius, c. 6. [57] Clemens Alexandrinus, Stromata, Lib. I, p. 302. [58] Iamblichus, c.17. [59] Laertius, c. 8. Iamblichus, c. 17. [60] Cicero de Natura Deorum, Lib. I, c. 5. [61] Laertius, c. 9. [62] Ibid. [63] Iamblichus, c. 19. [64] Laertius, c.1. [65] Ibid, c. 18. [66] Iamblichus, c. 8. [67] Ibid, c. 13. [68] Laertius, c. 9. Iamblichus, c. 28. [69] Laertius, c. 9. Iamblichus, c. 18. [70] Ibid, c. 28. [71] Laertius, c.21. [72] Iamblichus, c.17. [73] Iamblichus, c. 35. Laertius, c. 21. [74] Laertius, c. 21. [75] Laertius, Lib. I, c. 109. Plinius, Lib. VII, c. 52. [76] Laertius, c. 113. [77] Ibid. [78] Ibid. c. 111. [79] Plutarch, Vita Solonis. Laertius, Lib. I, c. 109. [80] Plutarch, Vita Solonis. Laertius, Lib. I, c. 110. [81] Ibid. [82] Laertius, Lib. VIII, c. 51, 64. [83] Ibid, c. 57. [84] Ibid, c. 66. [85] Ibid, c. 73. [86] Plinius, Lib. VII, c. 52. Laertius, c. 61. [87] Laertius, c. 77. [88] Ibid, c. 59. [89] Ibid, c. 62. [90] Laertias, c. 69. Horat, De Arte Poetica, v. 463. [91] Herodotus, Lib. III, c. 14, 15. Plinius, Lib. VII, c. 52. [92] Plutarch, De Genio Socratis. Lucian, Muscae Encomium. Plinius, Lib. VII, c. 52. [Errata: _dele_ Plinius] [93] Plinius, Lib. III, c, 61, 62. [94] Herodotus, Lib. VIII, c. 36, 37, 38, 39. [95] Herodotus, Lib. VIII, c. 140, _et seqq_. [96] Historia Naturalis, Lib. X, c. 40. [97] Plinius, Lib. XXVIII. c. 8. [98] Pseudomantis, c. 17. See also Philopseudes, c. 32. [99] Theages. [100] Plutarch, De Genio Socratis. [101] Xenophon, Memorabilia, Lib. I, c. 1. [102] Plutarch, _ubi supra_. [103] Plato, Theages. [104] Ibid. [105] Livius, Lib. I, c. 16. [106] Dionysius Halicarnassensis. [107] Livius, Lib. I, c. 19, 21. [108] Livius, Lib. I, c. 31. [109] Ibid. [110] Livius, Lib. I, c. 36. [111] Livius, Lib. I, c. 39. [112] Livius, Lib. III, c. 6, _et seqq_. [113] Epod. V. [114] Metamorphoses, Lib. VII. [115] Lib. VI. [116] Horat., de Arte Poetica, v. 150. [117] Plutarch, North's Translation. [118] Matt. c. xii, v. 24, 27. [119] Acts, c. viii. [120] Clemens Romanus, Recognitiones, Lib. II, cap. 9. Anastasius Sinaita, Quaestiones; Quaestio 20. [121] Clemens Romanus, Constitutiones Apostolici, Lib. VI, cap. 7. [122] Acts, c. xiii. [123] Ibid, c. xix. [124] Suetonius, Lib. VI, cap. 14. [125] Tacitus, Historiae, Lib. IV, cap. 81. Suetonius, Lib. VIII, cap. 7. [126] Hume, Essays, Part III, Section X. [127] Philostratus, Vita Apollonii, Lib. I, cap. 5, 6. [128] Philostratus, Vita Apollonii, Lib. I, c. 10. [129] Ibid, c.13. [130] Ibid, c. 13, 14. [131] Philostratus, Lib. IV, c. 10. [132] Philostratus, Lib. IV, c. 25. [133] Philostratus, Lib. IV, c. 45. [134] Philostratus, Lib. VIII, c. 5. [135] Ibid, c. 26. [136] Philostratus, Lib. VIII, c. 29, 30. [137] Ibid, c. 29. [138] Lampridius, in Vita Alex. Severi, c. 29. [139] C. 24. [140] Philostratus, Lib. I, c. 3. [141] Zosimus, Lib, IV, cap. 13. Gibbon observes, that the name of Theodosius, who actually succeeded, begins with the same letters which were indicated in this magic trial. [142] Zosimus, Lib. IV, cap. 14. [143] Gibbon, Chap. VIII. [144] This word is of Sanscrit original. [145] "They cut themselves with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them." I Kings, xviii, 28. [146] Otherwise, Deeves. [147] D'Herbelot, Bibliothèque Orientale. [148] D'Herbelot, Bibliothèque Orientale. [149] It is in Selden's Collection of Ballads in the Bodleian Library. See Letters from the Bodleian, Vol. I, p. 120 to 126. [150] Spenser, Fairy Queen, Book III, Canto III, stanza 9, _et seqq_. [151] William of Malmesbury, Lib. II, c. 10. [152] William of Malmesbury, Lib. II, c. 10. [153] Naudé, Apologie des Grands Hommes Accusés de Magie. Malmesbury, _ubi supra_. [154] Naudé, Apologie des Grands Hommes Accusés de Magie, chap. 19. [155] Mornay, Mysterium Iniquitalis, p. 258. Coeffeteau, Reponse à ditto, p. 274. [156] Ibid. [157] Hollinshed, History of Scotland, p. 206, 207. [158] Ibid. p. 207, 208. [159] Hollinshed, History of Scotland, p. 243, 244. [160] Hollinshed, History of Scotland, p. 244, 245. [161] Hollinshed, History of Scotland, p. 246. [162] Ibid, p. 248, 249. [163] Hollinshed, History of Scotland, p. 249. [164] Ibid. [165] Hollinshed, History of Scotland, p. 251. [166] Naudé. [167] Godwin, Praesulibus, art. Gronthead. [168] Naudé c. 18. [169] Johannes de Becka, _apud_ Trithemii Chronica, ann. 1254. [170] Freind, History of Physick, Vol. II, p. 234 to 239. [171] Bacon, Epist. ad Clement. IV. [172] Ubi supra. [173] See page 261. [174] Naudé, Cap. 17. [175] Ibid. [176] Commentaries, Book IV. chap. vi. [177] Life of Chaucer, c. xviii. [178] Wotton, Reflections on Learning, Chap. X. [179] See above, p. 29. [180] Biographic Universelle. [181] Naudé. [182] Moreri. [183] Enfield, History of Philosophy, Book VIII, chapter i. [184] Moreri. [185] Watson, Chemical Essays, Vol. I. [186] Fuller, Worthies of England. [187] Watson, _ubi supra_. [188] Sir Thomas More, History of Edward the Fifth. [189] Buck, Life and Reign of Richard III. [190] Hutchinson on Witchcraft. [191] I Samuel, xv, 23. [192] Doctrine of Divorce, Preface. [193] Delrio, Disquisitiones Magicae, p. 746. [194] Alciatus, Parergon Juris, L. VIII, cap. 22. [195] Danaeus, _apud_ Delrio, Proloquium. [196] Bartholomaeus de Spina, De Strigibus, c. 13. [197] Biographie Universelle. [198] Biographie Universelle. [199] Hospinian, Historia Sacramentaria, Part II, fol. 131. [200] Bayle. [201] Paulus Jovius, Elogia Doctorum Virorum, c.101. [202] Delrio, Disquisitiones Magicae, Lib. II, Quaestio xi, S. 18. [203] Delrio, Lib. II, Quaestio xxix. S. 7. [204] Wierus, Lib. II, c.v. S. 11, 12. [205] Cent. I, cap. 70. [206] De Praestigiis Demonum, Lib. II, cap. iv, sect. 8. [207] Durrius, _apud_ Schelhorn, Amoenitates Literariae, Tom. V, p.50, _et seqq_. [208] Memoirs, p. 14. [209] Brewster, Letters on Natural Magic, Letter IV. [210] Appendix to Johannes Glastoniensis, edited by Hearne. [211] Camden, anno 1693, 1694. [212] Pitcairn, Trials in Scotland in Five Volumes, 4to. [213] King James's Works, p. 135. [214] King James's Works, p. 135, 136. [215] Truth brought to Light by Time. Wilson, History of James I. [216] Fuller, Church History of Britain, Book X, p. 74. See also Osborn's Works, Essay I: where the author says, he "gave charge to his judges, to be circumspect in condemning those, committed by ignorant justices for diabolical compacts. Nor had he concluded his advice in a narrower circle, as I have heard, than the denial of any such operations, but out of reason of state, and to gratify the church, which hath in no age thought fit to explode out of the common people's minds an apprehension of witchcraft." The author adds, that he "must confess James to have been the promptest man living in his dexterity to discover an imposture," and subjoins a remarkable story in confirmation of this assertion. [217] Discovery of the Witches, 1612, printed by order of the Court. [218] History of Whalley, by Thomas Dunham Whitaker, p. 215. [219] Wood, Athenae Oxonienses, Vol. II, p. 507. [220] Heylyn, Life of Laud. [221] Hutchinson on Witchcraft. [222] Menagiana, Tom. II, p. 252, _et seqq_. [223] Judges, v, 20. [224] Certainty of the World of Spirits. [225] Trial of the Witches executed at Bury St. Edmund's. [226] Narrative translated by Dr. Horneck, _apud_ Satan's Invisible World by Sinclair, and Sadducismus Triumphatus by Glanville. [227] Cotton Mather, Wonders of the Invisible World; Calef, More Wonders of the Invisible World; Neal, History of New England. [228] Menagiana, Tom II, p. 264. Voltaire, Siècle de Louis XIV, Chap. xxxi. 
12288	----	Proofreading Team. [Illustration: A Grand Jury Presentment for Witchcraft Reproduced from the original in the Connecticut Historical Society, Hartford May it please yr Honble Court, we the Grand inquest now setting for the County of Fairefeild, being made sensable, not only by Common fame (but by testamonies duly billed to us) that the widow Mary Staple, Mary Harvey ye wife of Josiah Harvey & Hannah Harvey the daughter of the saide Josiah, all of Fairefeild, remain under the susspition of useing witchecraft, which is abomanable both in ye sight of God & man and ought to be witnessed against. we doe therefore (in complyance to our duty, the discharge of our oathes and that trust reposed in us) presente the above mentioned pssons to the Honble Court of Assistants now setting in Fairefeild, that they may be taken in to Custody & proceeded against according to their demerits. Fairefeild, Fby, 1692 in behalfe of the Grnd Jury JOSEPH BASTARD, foreman] THE WITCHCRAFT DELUSION IN COLONIAL CONNECTICUT 1647-1697 BY JOHN M. TAYLOR Author of "Maximilian and Carlotta, a Story of Imperialism," and "Roger Ludlow, the Colonial Lawmaker" 1908 "Connecticut can well afford to let her records go to the world." _Blue Laws: True and False_ (p. 47). J. HAMMOND TRUMBULL. FOREWORD The true story of witchcraft in old Connecticut has never been told. It has been hidden in the ancient records and in manuscripts in private collections, and those most conversant with the facts have not made them known, for one reason or another. It is herein written from authoritative sources, and should prove of interest and value as a present-day interpretation of that strange delusion, which for a half century darkened the lives of the forefathers and foremothers of the colonial days. J.M.T. Hartford, Connecticut. TWO INDICTMENTS FOR WITCHCRAFT "John Carrington thou art indited by the name of John Carrington of Wethersfield--carpenter--, that not hauing the feare of God before thine eyes thou hast interteined ffamilliarity with Sattan the great enemye of God and mankinde and by his helpe hast done workes aboue the course of nature for wch both according to the lawe of God and the established lawe of this Commonwealth thou deseruest to dye." Record Particular Court, 2: 17, 1650-51. "Hugh Crotia, Thou Standest here presented by the name of Hugh Crotia of Stratford in the Colony of Connecticut in New England; for that not haueing the fear of God before thine Eyes, through the Instigation of the Devill, thou hast forsaken thy God & covenanted with the Devill, and by his help hast in a preternaturall way afflicted the bodys of Sundry of his Majesties good Subjects, for which according to the Law of God, and the Law of this Colony, thou deseruest to dye." Record Court of Assistants, 2: 16, 1693. A WARRANT FOR THE EXECUTION OF A WITCH[A] AND THE SHERIFF'S RETURN THEREON To George Corwin Gentlm high Sheriff of the County of Essex Greeting Whereas Bridgett Bishop als Olliver the wife of Edward Bishop of Salem in the County of Essex Sawyer at a special Court of Oyer and Terminer ---- (held at?)[B] Salem this second Day of this instant month of June for the Countyes of Essex Middlesex and Suffolk before William Stoughton Esqe. and his Associates Justices of the said Court was Indicted and arraigned upon five several Indictments for useing practising & exercising on the ----[B] last past and divers others days ----[B] witchcraft in and upon the bodyes of Abigail Williams Ann puttnam Jr Mercy Lewis Mary Walcott and Elizabeth Hubbard of Salem Village single women; whereby their bodyes were hurt afflicted pined consumed wasted & tormented contrary to the forme of the statute in that case made and provided To which Indictmts the said Bridgett Bishop pleaded not guilty and for Tryall thereof put herselfe upon God and her Country ----[B] she was found guilty of the ffelonyes and Witchcrafts whereof she stood Indicted and sentence of death accordingly passed agt her as the Law directs execution whereof yet remaines to be done These are therefore in the name of their Majties William & Mary now King & Queen over England & to will and command you that upon Fryday next being the fourth day of this instant month of June between the hours of Eight and twelve in the aforenoon of the same day you safely conduct the sd Bridgett Bishop als Olliver from their Majties Goale in Salem aforesd to the place of execution and there cause her to be hanged by the neck until she be dead and of your doings herein make returne to the Clerk of the sd Court and precept And hereof you are not to faile at your peril And this shall be sufficient warrant Given under my hand & seal at Boston the Eighth of June in the ffourth year of the reigne of our Sovereigne Lords William & Mary now King & Queen over England Annoque Dm 1692 Wm. Stoughton [Footnote A: Original in office of Clerk of the Courts at Salem, Massachusetts. Said to be the only one extant in American archives.] [Footnote B: Some of the words in the warrant are illegible.] June 16 1692 According to the within written precept I have taken the Bodye of the within named Bridgett Bishop out of their Majties Goale in Salem & Safely Conueighd her to the place provided for her Execution & Caused ye sd Bridgett to be hanged by the neck till Shee was dead all which was according to the time within Required & So I make returne by me George Corwin Sheriff CONTENTS CHAPTER I Perkins' definition--Burr's "Servants of Satan"--The monkish idea--The ancientness of witchcraft--Its universality--Its regulation--What it was--Its oldest record--The Babylonian Stele--Its discovery--King Hammurabi's Code, 2250 B.C.--Its character and importance--Hebraic resemblances--Its witchcraft law--The test of guilt--The water test. CHAPTER II Opinions of Blackstone and Lecky--Witchcraft nomenclature--Its earlier and later phases--Common superstitions--Monna Sidonia's invocation-- Leland's Sea Song--Witchcraft's diverse literature--Its untold history-- The modern Satanic idea--Exploitation by the Inquisitors--The chief authorities--The witch belief--Its recognition in drama and romance--The Weird Sisters--Other characters. CHAPTER III Fundamentals--The scriptural citations--Old and New Testament--Josephus--Ancient and modern witchcraft--The distinction--The arch enemy Satan--Action of the Church--The later definition--The New England indictments--Satan's recognition--Persecutions in Italy, Germany and France--Slow spread to England--Statute of Henry VIII--Cranmer's injunction--Jewell's sermon--Statute James I--His Demonologie--Executions in Eastern England--Witch finder Hopkins--Howell's statement--John Lowes--Witchcraft in Scotland--Commissions--Instruments of torture--Forbes' definition--Colonial beliefs CHAPTER IV Fiske's view--The forefathers' belief--Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Haven laws--Sporadic cases--The Salem tragedy--Statements of Hawthorne, Fiske, Lowell, Latimer--The victims--Upham's picture--The trial court--Sewall's confession--Cotton Mather--Calef and Upham--Poole--Mather's rules--Ministerial counsel--Longfellow's opinion--Mather's responsibility--His own evidence--Conspectus CHAPTER V The Epidemic in Connecticut--Palfrey--Trumbulls--Winthrop's Journal--Treatment of witchcraft--Silence and evasion--The true story--How told--Witnesses--Testimony--All classes affected--The courts--Judges and jurors--The best evidence--The record--Grounds for examination of a witch--Jones' summary--Witch marks--What they were--How discovered--Dalton's Country Justice--The searchers--Searchers' report in Disborough and Clawson cases CHAPTER VI Hamersley's and Morgan's comment--John Allyn's letter--The accusation--Its origin--Its victims--Many witnesses--Record evidence--The witnesses themselves--Memorials of their delusion--Notable depositions--Selected testimonies, and cases--Katherine Harrison--The court--The judge--The indictment--Grand jury's oath--Credulity of the court--Testimony--Its unique character--Bracy--Dickinson--Montague-- Graves--Francis--Johnson--Hale--Smith--Verdict and sentence--Court's appeal to the ministers--Their answer--A remarkable document--Katherine's petition--"A Complaint of severall grieuances"--Katherine's reprieve-- Dismissal from imprisonment--Removal CHAPTER VII Mercy Disborough--Cases at Fairfield, 1692--The special court--The indictment--Testimonies--Jesop--Barlow--Dunning--Halliberch--Benit-- Grey--Godfree--Search for witch marks--Ordeal by water--Cateran Branch's accusation--Jury disagree--Later verdict of guilty--The governor's sentence--Reference to General Court--Afterthought--John Hale's conclusion--Courts call on the ministers--Their answer--General advice--Reasons for reprieve--Notable papers--Eliot and Woodbridge--Willis--Pitkin--Stanly--The pardon CHAPTER VIII Hawthorne--Latimer--Additional cases--Curious and vulgar testimony--All illustrative of opinion--Make it understandable--Elizabeth Seager--Witnesses--What they swore to--Garretts--Sterne--Hart--Willard-- Pratt--Migat--"Staggerings" of the jury--Contradictions--Verdict-- Elizabeth Godman--Governor Goodyear's dilemma--Strange doings--Ball's information--Imprisonment--Discharge--Nathaniel and Rebecca Greensmith-- Character, Accusation--Rebecca's confession--Conviction--Double execution at Hartford CHAPTER IX Elizabeth Clawson--The indictment--Witnesses--"Kateran" Branch--Garney-- Kecham--Abigail and Nathaniel Cross--Bates--Sargent Wescot and Abigail-- Finch--Bishop--Holly--Penoir--Slawson--Kateran's Antics--Acquittal. Hugh Crotia--The court--Grand jury--Indictment--Testimony--Confession-- Acquittal--Gaol delivery--Elizabeth Garlick--A sick woman's fancies--"A black thing at the bed's featte"--Burning herbs--The sick child--The ox' broken leg--The dead ram and sow--The Tale burning CHAPTER X Goodwife Knapp--Her character--A notable case--Imprisonment--Harsh treatment--The inquisitors--Their urgency--Knapp's appeal--The postmortem desecration--Prominent people involved--Davenport and Ludlow--Staplies vs. Ludlow--The court--Confidential gossip--Cause of the suit--Testimony-- Davenport--Sherwood--Tomson--Gould--Ward--Pell--Brewster--Lockwood--Hull-- Brundish--Whitlock--Barlow--Lyon--Mistress Staplies--Her doings aforetime-- Tashs' night ride--"A light woman"--Her character--Reparation suit--Her later indictment--Power of the delusion--Pertinent inquiry CHAPTER XI Present opinions--J. Hammond Trumbull--Annie Eliot Trumbull--Review--Authenticity--Record evidence--Controversialists--Actual cases--Suspicions--Accusations--Acquittals--Flights--Executions--First complete roll--Changes in belief--Contrast--Edwards--Carter--"The Rogerenes"--Conclusion--Hathorne--Mather THE WITCHCRAFT DELUSION IN COLONIAL CONNECTICUT CHAPTER I "First, because Witchcraft is a rife and common sinne in these our daies, and very many are intangled with it, beeing either practitioners thereof in their owne persons, or at the least, yielding to seeke for helpe and counsell of such as practise it." _A Discovrse of the Damned Art of Witchcraft_, PERKINS, 1610. "And just as God has his human servants, his church on earth, so also the Devil has his--men and women sworn to his service and true to his bidding. To win such followers he can appear to men in any form he pleases, can deceive them, enter into compact with them, initiate them into his worship, make them his allies for the ruin of their fellows. Now it is these human allies and servants of Satan, thus postulated into existence by the brain of a monkish logician, whom history knows as witches." _The Literature of Witchcraft_, BURR. Witchcraft in its generic sense is as old as human history. It has written its name in the oldest of human records. In all ages and among all peoples it has taken firm hold on the fears, convictions and consciences of men. Anchored in credulity and superstition, in the dread and love of mystery, in the hard and fast theologic doctrines and teachings of diabolism, and under the ban of the law from its beginning, it has borne a baleful fruitage in the lives of the learned and the unlearned, the wise and the simple. King and prophet, prelate and priest, jurist and lawmaker, prince and peasant, scholars and men of affairs have felt and dreaded its subtle power, and sought relief in code and commandment, bull and anathema, decree and statute--entailing even the penalty of death--and all in vain until in the march of the races to a higher civilization, the centuries enthroned faith in the place of fear, wisdom in the place of ignorance, and sanity in the seat of delusion. In its earlier historic conception witchcraft and its demonstrations centered in the claim of power to produce certain effects, "things beyond the course of nature," from supernatural causes, and under this general term all its occult manifestations were classified with magic and sorcery, until the time came when the Devil was identified and acknowledged both in church and state as the originator and sponsor of the mystery, sin and crime--the sole father of the Satanic compacts with men and women, and the law both canonical and civil took cognizance of his malevolent activities. In the Acropolis mound at Susa in ancient Elam, in the winter of 1901-2, there was brought to light by the French expedition in charge of the eminent savant, M. de Morgan, one of the most remarkable memorials of early civilization ever recovered from the buried cities of the Orient. It is a monolith--a stele of black diorite--bearing in bas-relief a likeness of Hammurabi (the Amrephel of the Old Testament; Genesis xiv, 1), and the sixth king of the first Babylonian dynasty, who reigned about 2250 B.C.; and there is also carved upon it, in archaic script in black letter cuneiform--used long after the cursive writing was invented--the longest Babylonian record discovered to this day,--the oldest body of laws in existence and the basis of historical jurisprudence. It is a remarkable code, quickly made available through translation and transliteration by the Assyrian scholars, and justly named, from its royal compiler, Hammurabi's code. He was an imperialist in purpose and action, and in the last of his reign of fifty-five years he annexed or assimilated the suzerainty of Elam, or Southern Persia, with Assyria to the north, and also Syria and Palestine, to the Mediterranean Sea. This record in stone originally contained nineteen columns of inscriptions of four thousand three hundred and fourteen lines, arranged in two hundred and eighty sections, covering about two hundred separate decisions or edicts. There is substantial evidence that many of the laws were of greater antiquity than the code itself, which is a thousand years older than the Mosaic code, and there are many striking resemblances and parallels between its provisions, and the law of the covenant, and the deuteronomy laws of the Hebrews. The code was based on personal responsibility. It protects the sanctity of an oath before God, provides among many other things for written evidence in legal matters, and is wonderfully comprehensive and rich in rules for the conduct of commercial, civic, financial, social, economic, and domestic affairs. These sections are notably illustrative: "If a man, in a case (pending judgment), utters threats against the witnesses (or), does not establish the testimony that he has given, if that case be a case involving life, that man shall be put to death. "If a judge pronounces a judgment, renders a decision, delivers a verdict duly signed and sealed and afterwards alters his judgment, they shall call that judge to account for the alteration of the judgment which he had pronounced, and he shall pay twelvefold the penalty which was in the said judgment, and, in the assembly, they shall expel him from his seat of judgment, and he shall not return, and with the judges in a case he shall not take his seat. "If a man practices brigandage and is captured, that man shall be put to death. "If a woman hates her husband, and says: 'thou shalt not have me,' they shall inquire into her antecedents for her defects; and if she has been a careful mistress and is without reproach and her husband has been going about and greatly belittling her, that woman has no blame. She shall receive her presents and shall go to her father's house. "If she has not been a careful mistress, has gadded about, has neglected her house and has belittled her husband, they shall throw that woman into the water. "If a physician operates on a man for a severe wound with a bronze lancet and causes the man's death, or opens an abscess (in the eye) of a man with a bronze lancet and destroys the man's eye, they shall cut off his fingers. "If a builder builds a house for a man and does not make its construction firm and the house, which he has built, collapses and causes the death of the owner of the house, that builder shall be put to death." It is, however, with only one of King Hammurabi's wise laws that this inquiry has to do, and it is this: "If a man has placed an enchantment upon a man, and has not justified himself, he upon whom the enchantment is placed to the Holy River (Euphrates) shall go; into the Holy River he shall plunge. If the Holy River holds (drowns) him he who enchanted him shall take his house. If on the contrary, the man is safe and thus is innocent, the wizard loses his life, and his house." Or, as another translation has it: "If a man ban a man and cast a spell on him--if he cannot justify it he who has banned shall be killed." "If a man has cast a spell on a man and has not justified it, he on whom the spell has been thrown shall go to the River God, and plunge into the river. If the River God takes him he who has banned him shall be saved. If the River God show him to be innocent, and he be saved, he who banned him shall be killed, and he who plunged into the river shall take the house of him who banned him." There can be no more convincing evidence of the presence and power of the great witchcraft superstition among the primitive races than this earliest law; and it is to be especially noted that it prescribes one of the very tests of guilt--the proof by water--which was used in another form centuries later, on the continent, in England and New England, at Wurzburg and Bonn, at Rouen, in Suffolk, Essex and Devon, and at Salem and Hartford and Fairfield, when "the Devil starteth himself up in the pulpit, like a meikle black man, and calling the row (roll) everyone answered, Here!" CHAPTER II "To deny the possibility, nay actual evidence of witchcraft and sorcery, is at once to flatly contradict the revealed word of God in various passages both of the Old and New Testaments." _Blackstone's Commentaries_ (Vol. 4, ch. 4, p. 60). "It was simply the natural result of Puritanical teaching acting on the mind, predisposing men to see Satanic influence in life, and consequently eliciting the phenomena of witchcraft." LECKY's _Rationalism in Europe_ (Vol. I, p. 123). Witchcraft's reign in many lands and among many peoples is also attested in its remarkable nomenclature. Consider its range in ancient, medieval and modern thought as shown in some of its definitions: Magic, sorcery, soothsaying, necromancy, astrology, wizardry, mysticism, occultism, and conjuring, of the early and middle ages; compacts with Satan, consorting with evil spirits, and familiarity with the Devil, of later times; all at last ripening into an epidemic demonopathy with its countless victims of fanaticism and error, malevolence and terror, of persecution and ruthless sacrifices. It is still most potent in its evil, grotesque, and barbaric forms, in Fetichism, Voodooism, Bundooism, Obeahism, and Kahunaism, in the devil and animal ghost worship of the black races, completely exemplified in the arts of the Fetich wizard on the Congo; in the "Uchawi" of the Wasequhha mentioned by Stanley; in the marriage customs of the Soudan devil worshipers; in the practices of the Obeah men and women in the Caribbees--notably their power in matters of love and business, religion and war--in Jamaica; in the incantations of the kahuna in Hawaii; and in the devices of the voodoo or conjure doctor in the southern states; in the fiendish rites and ceremonies of the red men,--the Hoch-e-ayum of the Plains Indians, the medicine dances of the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, the fire dance of the Navajos, the snake dance of the Moquis, the sun dance of the Sioux, in the myths and tales of the Cherokees; and it rings in many tribal chants and songs of the East and West. It lives as well, and thrives luxuriantly, ripe for the full vintage, in the minds of many people to whom this or that trivial incident or accident of life is an omen of good or evil fortune with a mysterious parentage. Its roots strike deep in that strange element in human nature which dreads whatsoever is weird and uncanny in common experiences, and sees strange portents and dire chimeras in all that is unexplainable to the senses. It is made most virile in the desire for knowledge of the invisible and intangible, that must ever elude the keenest inquiry, a phase of thought always to be reckoned with when imagination runs riot, and potent in its effect, though evanescent as a vision the brain sometimes retains of a dream, and as senseless in the cold light of reason as Monna Sidonia's invocation at the Witches' Sabbath: (_Romance of Leonardo da Vinci_, p. 97, MEREJKOWSKI.) "Emen Hetan, Emen Hetan, Palu, Baalberi, Astaroth help us Agora, Agora, Patrisa, Come and help us." "Garr-r: Garr-r, up: Don't knock Your head: We fly: We fly:" And who may count himself altogether free from the subtle power of the old mystery with its fantastic imageries, when the spirit of unrest is abroad? Who is not moved by it in the awesome stillness of night on the plains, or in the silence of the mountains or of the somber forest aisles; in wild winter nights when old tales are told; in fireside visions as tender memories come and go? And who, when listening to the echoes of the chambers of the restless sea when deep calleth unto deep, does not hear amid them some weird and haunting refrain like Leland's sea song? "I saw three witches as the wind blew cold In a red light to the lee; Bold they were and overbold As they sailed over the sea; Calling for One Two Three; Calling for One Two Three; And I think I can hear It a ringing in my ear, A-calling for the One, Two, Three." Above all, in its literature does witchcraft exhibit the conclusive proof of its age, its hydra-headed forms, and its influence in the intellectual and spiritual development of the races of men. What of this literature? Count in it all the works that treat of the subject in its many phases, and its correlatives, and it is limitless, a literature of all times and all lands. Christian and pagan gave it place in their religions, dogmas, and articles of faith and discipline, and in their codes of law; and for four hundred years, from the appeal of Pope John XXII, in 1320, to extirpate the Devil-worshipers, to the repeal of the statute of James I in 1715, the delusion gave point and force to treatises, sermons, romances, and folk-lore, and invited, nay, compelled, recognition at the hands of the scientist and legist, the historian, the poet and the dramatist, the theologian and philosopher. But the monographic literature of witchcraft, as it is here considered, is limited, in the opinion of a scholar versed in its lore, to fifteen hundred titles. There is a mass of unpublished materials in libraries and archives at home and abroad, and of information as to witchcraft and the witch trials, accessible in court records, depositions, and current accounts in public and private collections, all awaiting the coming of some master hand to transform them into an exhaustive history of the most grievous of human superstitions. To this day, there has been no thorough investigation or complete analysis of the history of the witch persecutions. The true story has been distorted by partisanship and ignorance, and left to exploitation by the romancer, the empiric, and the sciolist. "Of the origin and nature of the delusion we know perhaps enough; but of the causes and paths of its spread, of the extent of its ravages, of its exact bearing upon the intellectual and religious freedom of its times, of the soul-stirring details of the costly struggle by which it was overborne we are lamentably ill informed." (_The Literature of Witchcraft_, p. 66, BURR.) It must serve in this brief narrative to merely note, within the centuries which marked the climax of the mania, some of the most authoritative and influential works in giving strength to its evil purpose and the modes of accusation, trial, and punishment. Modern scholarship holds that witchcraft, with the Devil as the arch enemy of mankind for its cornerstone, was first exploited by the Dominicans of the Inquisition. They blazed the tortuous way for the scholastic theology which in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries gave new recognition to Satan and his satellites as the sworn enemies of God and his church, and the Holy Inquisition with its massive enginery, open and secret, turned its attention to the exposure and extirpation of the heretics and sinners who were enlisted in the Devil's service. Take for adequate illustration these standard authorities in the early periods of the widespread and virulent epidemic: Those of the Inquisitor General, Eymeric, in 1359, entitled _Tractatus contra dæmonum_; the Formicarius or Ant Hill of the German Dominican Nider, 1337; the _De calcatione dæmonum_, 1452; the _Flagellum hæreticorum fascinariorum_ of the French Inquisitor Jaquier in 1458; and the _Fortalitium fidei_ of the Spanish Franciscan Alonso de Spina, in 1459; the famous and infamous manual of arguments and rules of procedure for the detection and punishment of witches, compiled by the German Inquisitors Krämer and Sprenger (Institor) in 1489, buttressed on the bull of Pope Innocent VIII; (this was the celebrated _Witch Hammer_, bearing on its title page the significant legend, "_Not to believe in witchcraft is the greatest of heresies_"); the Canon Episcopi; the bulls of Popes John XXII, 1330, Innocent VIII, 1484, Alexander VI, 1494, Leo X, 1521, and Adrian VI, 1522; the Decretals of the canon law; the exorcisms of the Roman and Greek churches, all hinged on scriptural precedents; the Roman law, the Twelve Tables, and the Justinian Code, the last three imposing upon the crimes of conjuring, exorcising, magical arts, offering sacrifices to the injury of one's neighbors, sorcery, and witchcraft, the penalties of death by torture, fire, or crucifixion. Add to these classics some of the later authorities: the _Dæmonologie_ of the royal inquisitor James I of England and Scotland, 1597; Mores' _Antidote to Atheism_; Fuller's _Holy and Profane State_; Granvil's _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, 1681; _Tryal of Witches at the Assizes for the County of Suffolk before Sir Matthew Hale, March, 1664_ (London, 1682); Baxter's _Certainty of the World of Spirits_, 1691; Cotton Mather's _A Discourse on Witchcraft_, 1689, his _Late Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcrafts and Possessions_, 1684, and his _Wonders of the Invisible World_, 1692; and enough references have been made to this literature of delusion, to the precedents that seared the consciences of courts and juries in their sentences of men, women, and children to death by the rack, the wheel, the stake, and the gallows. Where in history are the horrors of the curse more graphically told than in the words of Canon Linden, an eye witness of the demonic deeds at Trier (Treves) in 1589? "And so, from court to court throughout the towns and villages of all the diocese, scurried special accusers, inquisitors, notaries, jurors, judges, constables, dragging to trial and torture human beings of both sexes and burning them in great numbers. Scarcely any of those who were accused escaped punishment. Nor were there spared even the leading men in the city of Trier. For the Judge, with two Burgomasters, several Councilors and Associate Judges, canons of sundry collegiate churches, parish-priests, rural deans, were swept away in this ruin. So far, at length, did the madness of the furious populace and of the courts go in this thirst for blood and booty that there was scarcely anybody who was not smirched by some suspicion of this crime. "Meanwhile notaries, copyists, and innkeepers grew rich. The executioner rode a blooded horse, like a noble of the court, and went clad in gold and silver; his wife vied with noble dames in the richness of her array. The children of those convicted and punished were sent into exile; their goods were confiscated; plowman and vintner failed." (_The Witch Persecutions_, pp. 13-14, BURR.) Fanaticism did not rule and ruin without hindrance and remonstrance. Men of great learning and exalted position struck mighty blows at the root of the evil. They could not turn the tide but they stemmed it, and their attacks upon the whole theory of Satanic power and the methods of persecution were potent in the reaction to humanity and a reign of reason. Always to be remembered among these men of power are Johann Wier, Friedrich Spee, and notably Reginald Scot, who in his _Discovery of Witchcraft_, in 1584, undertook to prove that "the contracts and compacts of witches with devils and all infernal spirits and familiars, are but erroneous novelties and erroneous conceptions." "After all it is setting a high value on our conjectures to roast a man alive on account of them." (MONTAIGNE.) Who may measure in romance and the drama the presence, the cogent and undeniable power of those same abiding elements of mysticism and mystery, which underlie all human experience, and repeated in myriad forms find their classic expression in the queries of the "Weird Sisters," "_those elemental avengers without sex or kin_"? "When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning or in rain? When the hurly burly's done, When the battle's lost and won." Are not the mummeries of the witches about the cauldron in Macbeth, and Talbot's threat pour la Pucelle, "Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch," uttered so long ago, echoed in the wailing cry of La Meffraye in the forests of Machecoul, in the maledictions of Grio, and of the Saga of the Burning Fields? Their vitality is also clearly shown in their constant use and exemplification by the romance and novel writers who appeal with certainty and success to the popular taste in the tales of spectral terrors. Witness: Farjeon's _The Turn of the Screw_; Bierce's _The Damned Thing_; Bulwer's _A Strange Story_; Cranford's _Witch of Prague_; Howells' _The Shadow of a Dream_; Winthrop's _Cecil Dreeme_; Grusot's _Night Side of Nature_; Crockett's Black Douglas; and _The Red Axe_, Francis' _Lychgate Hall_; Caine's _The Shadow of a Crime_; and countless other stories, traditions, tales, and legends, written and unwritten, that invite and receive a gracious hospitality on every hand. CHAPTER III "A belief in witchcraft had always existed; it was entertained by Coke, Bacon, Hale and even Blackstone. It was a misdemeanor at English common law and made a felony without benefit of clergy by 33 Henry VIII, c. 8, and 5 Eliz., c. 16, and the more severe statute of I Jas. 1, ch. 12." _Connecticut--Origin of her Courts and Laws_ (N.E. States, Vol I, p. 487-488), HAMERSLEY. "Selden took up a somewhat peculiar and characteristic position. He maintained that the law condemning women to death for witchcraft was perfectly just, but that it was quite unnecessary to ascertain whether witchcraft was a possibility. A woman might not be able to destroy the life of her neighbor by her incantations; but if she intended to do so, it was right that she should be hung." _Rationalism in Europe_ (Vol. 1, p. 123) LECKY. The fundamental authority for legislation, for the decrees of courts and councils as to witchcraft, from the days of the Witch of Endor to those of Mercy Disborough of Fairfield, and Giles Corey of Salem Farms, was the code of the Hebrews and its recognition in the Gospel dispensations. Thereon rest most of the historic precedents, legislative, ecclesiastical, and judicial. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Exodus xxii, 18. What law embalmed in ancientry and honored as of divine origin has been more fruitful of sacrifice and suffering? Through the Scriptures, gathering potency as it goes, runs the same grim decree, with widening definitions. "And the soul that turneth after such as have familiar spirits and after wizards ... I will even set my face against that soul and will cut him off from among his people." Deuteronomy xviii, 10-11. "There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer." Deuteronomy xviii, 10-11. "Saul had put away those that had familiar spirits, and the wizards out of the land." Samuel i, 3. "Now Saul the king of the Hebrews, had cast out of the country the fortune tellers, and the necromancers, and all such as exercised the like arts, excepting the prophets.... Yet did he bid his servants to inquire out for him some woman that was a necromancer, and called up the souls of the dead, that so he might know whether his affairs would succeed to his mind; for this sort of necromantic women that bring up the souls of the dead, do by them foretell future events." Josephus, Book 6, ch. 14. "For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft." Samuel i, 15-23. "And I will cut off witchcraft out of the land." Micah v. 12. "Many of them also which used curious arts brought their books together and burned them." Acts xix, 19. "But there was a certain man called Simon which beforetime in the same city used sorcery and bewitched the people of Samaria." Acts viii, 9. "If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered, and men gather them and cast them into the fire, and they are burned."[C] John xv, 6. [Footnote C: In the opinion of the eminent Italian jurist Bartolo, witches were burned alive in early times on this authority.] These citations make clear the scriptural recognition of witchcraft as a heinous sin and crime. It is, however, necessary to draw a broad line of demarcation between the ancient forms and manifestations which have been brought into view for an illustrative purpose, and that delusion or mania which centered in the theologic belief and teaching that Satan was the arch enemy of mankind, and clothed with such power over the souls of men as to make compacts with them, and to hold supremacy over them in the warfare between good and evil. The church from its earliest history looked upon witchcraft as a deadly sin, and disbelief in it as a heresy, and set its machinery in motion for its extirpation. Its authority was the word of God and the civil law, and it claimed jurisdiction through the ecclesiastical courts, the secular courts, however, acting as the executive of their decrees and sentences. Such was the cardinal principle which governed in the merciless attempts to suppress the epidemic in spreading from the continent to England and Scotland, and at last to the Puritan colonies in America, where the last chapter of its history was written. There can be no better, no more comprehensive modern definition of the crime once a heresy, or of the popular conception of it, than the one set forth in the New England indictments, to wit: "interteining familiarity with Satan the enemy of mankind, and by his help doing works above the course of nature." In few words Henry Charles Lea, in his _History of the Inquisition in the Middle Ages_, analyzes the development of the Satanic doctrine from a superstition into its acceptance as a dogma of Christian belief. "As Satan's principal object in his warfare with God was to seduce human souls from their divine allegiance, he was ever ready with whatever temptation seemed most likely to effect his purpose. Some were to be won by physical indulgence; others by conferring on them powers enabling them apparently to forecast the future, to discover hidden things, to gratify enmity, and to acquire wealth, whether through forbidden arts or by the services of a familiar demon subject to their orders. As the neophyte in receiving baptism renounced the devil, his pomps and his angels, it was necessary for the Christian who desired the aid of Satan to renounce God. Moreover, as Satan when he tempted Christ offered him the kingdoms of the earth in return for adoration--'If thou therefore wilt worship me all shall be thine' (Luke iv, 7)--there naturally arose the idea that to obtain this aid it was necessary to render allegiance to the prince of hell. Thence came the idea, so fruitful in the development of sorcery, of compacts with Satan by which sorcerers became his slaves, binding themselves to do all the evil they could to follow their example. Thus the sorcerer or witch was an enemy of all the human race as well as of God, the most efficient agent of hell in its sempiternal conflict with heaven. His destruction, by any method, was therefore the plainest duty of man. "This was the perfected theory of sorcery and witchcraft by which the gentle superstitions inherited and adopted from all sides were fitted into the Christian dispensation and formed part of its accepted creed." (_History of Inquisition in the Middle Ages_, 3, 385, LEA.) Once the widespread superstition became adapted to the forms of religious faith and discipline, and "the prince of the power of the air" was clothed with new energies, the Devil was taken broader account of by Christianity itself; the sorcery of the ancients was embodied in the Christian conception of witchcraft; and the church undertook to deal with it as a heresy; the door was opened wide to the sweep of the epidemic in some of the continental lands. In Bamburg and Wurzburg, Geneva and Como, Toulouse and Lorraine, and in many other places in Italy, Germany, and France, thousands were sacrificed in the names of religion, justice, and law, with bigotry for their advocate, ignorance for their judge, and fanaticism for their executioner. The storm of demonism raged through three centuries, and was stayed only by the mighty barriers of protest, of inquiry, of remonstrance, and the forces that crystallize and mold public opinion, which guides the destinies of men in their march to a higher civilization. The flames burning so long and so fiercely on the continent at first spread slowly in England and Scotland. Sorcery in some of its guises had obtained therein ever since the Conquest, and victims had been burned under the king's writ after sentence in the ecclesiastical courts; but witchcraft as a compact with Satan was not made a felony until 1541, by a statute of Henry VIII. Cranmer, in his _Articles of Visitation_ in 1549, enjoined the clergy to inquire as to any craft invented by the Devil; and Bishop Jewell, preaching before the queen in 1558, said: "It may please your Grace to understand that witches and sorcerers within these last few years are marvelously increased within your Grace's realm, Your Grace's subjects pine away even unto the death, their colour fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft." The act of 1541 was amended in Queen Elizabeth's reign, in 1562, but at the accession of James I--himself a fanatic and bigot in religious matters, and the author of the famous _Dæmonologie_--a new law was enacted with exact definition of the crime, which remained in force more than a hundred years. Its chief provision was this: "If any person or persons use, practice or exercise any invocation or conjuration of any evil and wicked spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, entertain, employ, feed or reward any evil and wicked spirit to or for any intent or purpose, or take up any dead man, woman, or child out of his, her or their grave, or any other place where the dead body resteth or the skin, bone, or any part of any dead person, to be employed or used in any manner of witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment, or shall use, practise, or exercise any witchcraft, enchantment, charm, or sorcery, whereby any person shall be killed, destroyed, wasted, consumed, pined or lamed in his or her body or any part thereof: every such offender is a felon without benefit of clergy." Under this law, and the methods of its administration, witchcraft so called increased; persecutions multiplied, especially under the Commonwealth, and notably in the eastern counties of England, whence so many of all estates, all sorts and conditions of men, had fled over seas to set up the standard of independence in the Puritan colonies. Many executions occurred in Lancashire, in Suffolk, Essex, and Huntingdonshire, where the infamous scoundrel "Witch-finder-General" Matthew Hopkins, under the sanction of the courts, was "pricking," "waking," "watching," and "testing" persons suspected or accused of witchcraft, with fiendish ingenuity of indignity and torture. Says James Howell in his _Familiar Letters_, in 1646: "We have multitudes of witches among us; for in Essex and Suffolk there were above two hundred indicted within these two years, and above the half of them executed." "Within the compass of two years (1645-7), near upon three hundred witches were arraigned, and the major part of them executed in Essex and Suffolk only. Scotland swarms with them more and more, and persons of good quality are executed daily." Scotland set its seal on witchcraft as a crime by an act of its parliament so early as 1563, amended in 1649. The ministers were the inquisitors and persecutors. They heard the confessions, and inflicted the tortures, and their cruelties were commensurate with the hard and fast theology that froze the blood of mercy in their veins. The trials were often held by special commissions issued by the privy council, on the petition of a presbytery or general assembly. It was here that those terrible instruments of torture, the caschielawis, the lang irnis, the boot and the pilliewinkis, were used to wring confessions from the wretched victims. It is all a strange and gruesome story of horrors told in detail in the state trial records, and elsewhere, from the execution of Janet Douglas--Lady Glammis--to that of the poor old woman at Dornoch who warmed herself at the fire set for her burning. So firmly seated in the Scotch mind was the belief in witchcraft as a sin and crime, that when the laws against it were repealed in 1736, Scotchmen in the highest stations of church and state remonstrated against the repeal as contrary to the law of God; and William Forbes, in his "Institutes of the Law of Scotland," calls witchcraft "that black art whereby strange and wonderful things are wrought by a power derived from the devil." This glance at what transpired on the continent and in England and Scotland is of value, in the light it throws on the beliefs and convictions of both Pilgrim and Puritan--Englishmen all--in their new domain, their implicit reliance on established precedents, their credulity in witchcraft matters, and their absolute trust in scriptural and secular authority for their judicial procedure, and the execution of the grim sentences of the courts, until the revolting work of the accuser and the searcher, and the delusion of the ministers and magistrates aflame with mistaken zeal vanished in the sober afterthought, the reaction of the public mind and conscience, which at last crushed the machinations of the Devil and his votaries in high places. CHAPTER IV "Hence among all the superstitions that have 'stood over' from primeval ages, the belief in witchcraft has been the most deeply rooted and the most tenacious of life. In all times and places until quite lately, among the most advanced communities, the reality of witchcraft has been accepted without question, and scarcely any human belief is supported by so vast a quantity of recorded testimony." "Considering the fact that the exodus of Puritans to New England occurred during the reign of Charles I, while the persecutions for witchcraft were increasing toward a maximum in the mother country, it is rather strange that so few cases occurred in the New World." _New France and New England_ (pp. 136-144), FISKE. The forefathers believed in witchcraft--entering into compacts with the Devil--and in all its diabolical subtleties. They had cogent reasons for their belief in example and experience. They set it down in their codes as a capital offense. They found, as has been shown abundant authority in the Bible and in the English precedents. They anchored their criminal codes as they did their theology in the wide and deep haven of the Old Testament decrees and prophecies and maledictions, and doubted not that "the Scriptures do hold forth a perfect rule for the direction and government of all men in all duties which they are to perform to God and men." Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Haven, early in their history enacted these capital laws: In Massachusetts (1641): "Witchcraft which is fellowship by covenant with a familiar spirit to be punished with death." "Consulters with witches not to be tolerated, but either to be cut off by death or banishment or other suitable punishment." (_Abstract New England Laws_, 1655.) In Connecticut (1642): "If any man or woman be a witch--that is, hath or consulteth with a familiar spirit--they shall be put to death." Exodus xxii, 18; Leviticus xx, 27; Deuteronomy xviii, 10, 11. (_Colonial Records of Connecticut_, Vol. I, p. 77). In New Haven (1655): "If any person be a witch, he or she shall be put to death according to" Exodus xxii, 18; Leviticus xx, 27; Deuteronomy xviii, 10, 11. (_New Haven Colonial Records_, Vol. II, p. 576, Cod. 1655). These laws were authoritative until the epidemic had ceased. Witches were tried, condemned, and executed with no question as to due legal power, in the minds of juries, counsel, and courts, until the hour of reaction came, hastened by doubts and criticisms of the sources and character of evidence, and the magistrates and clergy halted in their prosecutions and denunciations of an alleged crime born of delusion, and nurtured by a theology run rampant. "They had not been taught to question the wisdom or the humanity of English criminal law." (_Blue Laws--True and False_, p. 15, TRUMBULL.) Here and there in New England, following the great immigration from Old England, from 1630-40, during the Commonwealth, and to the Restoration, several cases of witchcraft occurred, but the mania did not set its seal on the minds of men, and inspire them to run amuck in their frenzy, until the days of the swift onset in Massachusetts and Connecticut in 1692, when the zenith of Satan's reign was reached in the Puritan colonies. A few words about the tragedy at Salem are relevant and essential. They are written because it was the last outbreak of epidemic demonopathy among the civilized peoples; it has been exploited by writers abroad, who have left the dreadful record of the treatment of the delusion in their own countries in the background; it was accompanied in some degree by like manifestations and methods of suppression in sister colonies; it was fanned into flames by men in high station who reveled in its merciless extirpation as a religious duty, and eased their consciences afterwards by contrition, confession and remorse, for their valiant service in the army of the theological devil; and especially for the contrasts it presents to the more cautious and saner methods of procedure that obtained in the governments of Connecticut and New Haven at the apogee of the delusion. What say the historians and scholars, some of whose ancestors witnessed or participated in the tragedies, and whose acquaintance with the facts defies all challenge? "It is on the whole the most gruesome episode in American history, and it sheds back a lurid light upon the long tale of witchcraft in the past." (_Fiske's New France and New England_, 195.) "The sainted minister in the church; the woman of the scarlet letter in the market place! What imagination would have been irreverent enough to surmise that the same scorching stigma was on them both." (_Scarlet Letter_, HAWTHORNE.) "We are made partners in parish and village feuds. We share in the chimney corner gossip, and learn for the first time how many mean and merely human motives, whether consciously or unconsciously, gave impulse and intensity to the passions of the actors in that memorable tragedy which dealt the death blow in this country to the belief in Satanic compacts." (_Among my Books--Witchcraft_, p. 142, LOWELL.) "The tragedy was at an end. It lasted about six months, from the first accusations in March until the last executions in September.... It was an epidemic of mad superstitious fear, bitterly to be regretted, and a stain upon the high civilization of the Bay Colony." (_Historic Towns of New England, Salem_, p. 148, LATIMER.) What was done at Salem, when the tempest of unreason broke loose? Who were the chief actors in it? This was done. From the first accusation in March, 1692, to the last execution in September, 1692, nineteen persons were hanged and one man was pressed to death[D] (_no witch was ever burned in New England_), hundreds of innocent men and women were imprisoned, or fled into exile or hiding places, their homes were broken up, their estates were ruined, and their families and friends were left in sorrow, anxiety, and desolation; and all this terrorism was wrought at the instance of the chief men in the communities, the magistrates, and the ministers. [Footnote D: Fifty-five persons suffered torture, and twenty were executed before the delusion ended. _Ency. Americana_ (Vol. 16, "Witchcraft").] Upham in his _Salem Witchcraft_ (Vol. II. pp. 249-250) thus pictures the situation. "The prisons in Salem, Ipswich, Boston, and Cambridge, were crowded. All the securities of society were dissolved. Every man's life was at the mercy of every man. Fear sat on every countenance, terror and distress were in all hearts, silence pervaded the streets; all who could, quit the country; business was at a stand; a conviction sunk into the minds of men, that a dark and infernal confederacy had got foot-hold in the land, threatening to overthrow and extirpate religion and morality, and establish the kingdom of the Prince of darkness in a country which had been dedicated, by the prayers and tears and sufferings of its pious fathers, to the Church of Christ and the service and worship of the true God. The feeling, dismal and horrible indeed, became general, that the providence of God was removed from them; that Satan was let loose, and he and his confederates had free and unrestrained power to go to and fro, torturing and destroying whomever he willed." The trials were held by a Special Court, consisting of William Stoughton, Peter Sergeant, Nath. Saltonstall, Wait Winthrop, Bartho' Gedney, John Richards, Saml. Sewall, John Hathorne, Tho. Newton, and Jonathan Corwin,--not one of them a lawyer. Whatever his associates may have thought of their ways of doing God's service, after the tragedy was over, Sewall, one of the most zealous of the justices, made a public confession of his errors before the congregation of the Old South Church, January 14, 1697. Were the agonizing groans of poor old Giles Corey, pressed to death under planks weighted with stones, or the prayers of the saintly Burroughs ringing in his ears? "The conduct of Judge Sewall claims our particular admiration. He observed annually in private a day of humiliation and prayer, during the remainder of his life, to keep fresh in his mind a sense of repentance and sorrow for the part he bore in the trials. On the day of the general fast, he arose in the place where he was accustomed to worship, the old South, in Boston, and in the presence of the great assembly, handed up to the pulpit a written confession, acknowledging the error into which he had been led, praying for the forgiveness of God and his people, and concluding with a request, to all the congregation to unite with him in devout supplication, that it might not bring down the displeasure of the Most High upon his country, his family, or himself. He remained standing during the public reading of the paper. This was an act of true manliness and dignity of soul." (_Upham's Salem Witchcraft_, Vol. II, p. 441). Grim, stern, narrow as he was, this man in his self-judgment commands the respect of all true men. The ministers stood with the magistrates in their delusion and intemperate zeal. Two hundred and sixteen years after the last witch was hung in Massachusetts a clearer light falls on one of the striking personalities of the time--Cotton Mather--who to a recent date has been credited with the chief responsibility for the Salem prosecutions. Did he deserve it? Robert Calef, in his _More Wonders of the Invisible World_, Bancroft in his _History of the United States_, and Charles W. Upham in his _Salem Witchcraft_, are the chief writers who have placed Mather in the foreground of those dreadful scenes, as the leading minister of the time, an active personal participant in the trials and executions, and a zealot in the maintenance of the ministerial dignity and domination. On the other hand, the learned scholar, the late William Frederick Poole, first in the _North American Review_, in 1869, and again in his paper _Witchcraft in Boston_, in 1882, in the _Memorial History of Boston_, calls Calef an immature youth, and says that his obvious intent, and that of the several unknown contributors who aided him, was to malign the Boston ministers and to make a sensation. And the late John Fiske, in his _New France and New England_ (p. 155), holds that: "Mather's rules (of evidence) would not have allowed a verdict of guilty simply upon the drivelling testimony of the afflicted persons, and if this wholesome caution had been observed, not a witch would ever have been hung in Salem." What were those rules of evidence and of procedure attributed to Mather? Through the Special Court appointed to hold the witch trials, and early in its sittings, the opinions of twelve ministers of Boston and vicinity were asked as to witchcraft. Cotton Mather wrote and his associates signed an answer June 15, 1692, entitled, _The Return of Several Ministers Consulted by his Excellency and the Honorable Council upon the Present Witchcrafts in Salem Village_. This was the opinion of the ministers, and it is most important to note what is said in it of spectral evidence,[E] as it was upon such evidence that many convictions were had: "1. The afflicted state of our poor neighbors that are now suffering by molestations from the Invisible World we apprehend so deplorable, that we think their condition calls for the utmost help of all persons in their several capacities. "2. We cannot but with all thankfulness acknowledge the success which the merciful God has given unto the sedulous and assiduous endeavors of our honorable rulers to detect the abominable witchcrafts which have been committed in the country; humbly praying that the discovery of these mysterious and mischievous wickednesses may be perfected. "3. We judge that, in the prosecution of these and all such witchcrafts there is need of a very critical and exquisite caution, lest by too much credulity for things received only upon the devil's authority, there be a door opened for a long train of miserable consequences, and Satan get an advantage over us; for we should not be ignorant of his devices. "4. As in complaints upon witchcraft there may be matters of inquiry which do not amount unto matters of presumption, and there may be matters of presumption which yet may not be matters of conviction, so it is necessary that all proceedings thereabout be managed with an exceeding tenderness toward those that may be complained of, especially if they have been persons formerly of an unblemished reputation. "5. When the first inquiry is made into the circumstances of such as may lie under the just suspicion of witchcrafts, we could wish that there may be admitted as little as possible of such noise, company and openness as may too hastily expose them that are examined, and that there may be nothing used as a test for the trial of the suspected, the lawfulness whereof may be doubted by the people of God, but that the directions given by such judicious writers as Perkins and Barnard may be observed. "6. Presumptions whereupon persons may be committed, and much more, convictions whereupon persons may be condemned as guilty of witchcrafts, ought certainly to be more considerable than barely the accused persons being represented by a spectre unto the afflicted, inasmuch as it is an undoubted and notorious thing that a demon may by God's permission appear even to ill purposes, in the shape of an innocent, yea, and a virtuous man. Nor can we esteem alterations made in the sufferers, by a look or touch of the accused, to be an infallible evidence of guilt, but frequently liable to be abused by the devil's legerdemains. "7. We know not whether some remarkable affronts given the devils, by our disbelieving these testimonies whose whole force and strength is from them alone, may not put a period unto the progress of the dreadful calamity begun upon us, in the accusation of so many persons whereof some, we hope, are yet clear from the great transgression laid to their charge. "8. Nevertheless, we cannot but humbly recommend unto the government, the speedy and vigorous prosecutions of such as have rendered themselves obnoxious, according to the directions given in the laws of God and the wholesome statutes of the English nation for the detection of witchcrafts." [Footnote E: An illustration: The child Ann Putnam, in her testimony against the Rev. Mr. Burroughs, said that one evening the apparition of a minister came to her and asked her to write her name in the devil's book. Then came the forms of two women in winding sheets, and looked angrily upon the minister and scolded him until he was fain to vanish away. Then the women told Ann that they were the ghosts of Mr. Burroughs' first and second wives whom he had murdered.] Did Longfellow, after a critical study of the original evidence and records, truly interpret Mather's views, in his dialogue with Hathorne? MATHER: "Remember this, That as a sparrow falls not to the ground Without the will of God, so not a Devil Can come down from the air without his leave. We must inquire." HATHORNE: "Dear sir, we have inquired; Sifted the matter thoroughly through and through, And then resifted it." MATHER: "If God permits These evil spirits from the unseen regions To visit us with surprising informations, We must inquire what cause there is for this, But not receive the testimony borne By spectres as conclusive proof of guilt In the accused." HATHORNE: "Upon such evidence We do not rest our case. The ways are many In which the guilty do betray themselves." MATHER: "Be careful, carry the knife with such exactness That on one side no innocent blood be shed By too excessive zeal, and on the other No shelter given to any work of darkness." _New England Tragedies_ (4, 725), LONGFELLOW. Whatever Mather's caution to the court may have been, or his leadership in learning, or his ambition and his clerical zeal, there is thus far no evidence, in all his personal participation in the tragedies, that he lifted his hand to stay the storm of terrorism once begun, or cried halt to the magistrates in their relentless work. On the contrary, after six victims had been executed, August 4, 1692, in _A Discourse on the Wonders of the Invisible World_, Mather wrote this in deliberate, cool afterthought: "They--the judges--have used as judges have heretofore done, the spectral evidences, to introduce their farther inquiries into the lives of the persons accused; and they have thereupon, by the wonderful Providence of God, been so strengthened with other evidences that some of the witch-gang have been fairly executed." And a year later, in the light of all his personal experience and investigation, Mather solemnly declared: "If in the midst of the many dissatisfactions among us, the publication of these trials may promote such a pious thankfulness unto God for justice being so far executed among us, I shall rejoice that God is glorified." Wherever the responsibility at Salem may have rested, the truth is that in the general fear and panic there was potent in the minds, both of the clergy and the laity, the spirit of fanaticism and malevolence in some instances, such as misled the pastor of the First Church to point to the corpses of Giles Corey's devoted and saintly wife and others swinging to and fro, and say "What a sad thing it is to see eight firebrands of hell hanging there." This conspectus of witchcraft, old and new, of its development from the sorcery and magic of the ancients into the mediæval theological dogma of the power of Satan, of its gradual ripening into an epidemic demonopathy, of its slow growth in the American colonies, of its volcanic outburst in the close of the seventeenth century, is relevant and appropriate to this account of the delusion in Connecticut, its rise and suppression, its firm hold on the minds and consciences of the colonial leaders for threescore years after the settlement of the towns, a chapter in Connecticut history written in the presence of the actual facts now made known and available, and with a purpose of historic accuracy. CHAPTER V "It was not to be expected of the colonists of New England that they should be the first to see through a delusion which befooled the whole civilized world, and the gravest and most knowing persons in it. The colonists in Connecticut and New Haven, as well as in Massachusetts, like all other Christian people at that time--at least with extremely rare individual exceptions--believed in the reality of a hideous crime called witchcraft." PALFREY'S _New England_ (Vol. IV, pp. 96-127). "The truth is that it [witchcraft] pervaded the whole Christian Church. The law makers and the ministers of New England were under its influences as--and no more than--were the law makers and ministers of Old England." _Blue Laws--True and False_ (p. 23), TRUMBULL. "One ---- of Windsor Arraigned and Executed at Hartford for a Witch." WINTHROP'S _Journal_ (2: 374, Savage Ed., 1853). Here beginneth the first chapter of the story of the delusion in Connecticut. It is an entry made by John Winthrop, Governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, in his famous journal, without specific date, but probably in the spring of 1647. It is of little consequence save as much has been made of it by some writers as fixing the relative date of the earliest execution for witchcraft in New England, and locating it in one of the three original Connecticut towns. What matters it at this day whether Mary Johnson as tradition runs, or Alse Youngs as truth has it, was put to death for witchcraft in Windsor, Connecticut, in 1647, or Martha Jones of Charlestown, Massachusetts, was hung for the same crime at Boston in 1648, as also set down in Winthrop's Journal? "It may possibly be thought a great neglect, or matter of partiality, that no account is given of witchcraft in Connecticut. The only reason is, that after the most careful researches, no indictment of any person for that crime, nor any process relative to that affair can be found." (_History of Connecticut_, 1799, Preface, BENJAMIN TRUMBULL, D.D.) "A few words should be said regarding the author's mention of the subject of witchcraft in Connecticut.... It is, I believe, strictly true, as he says 'that no indictment of any person for that crime nor any process relative to that affair can be found.' "It must be confessed, however, that a careful study of the official colonial records of Connecticut and New Haven leaves no doubt that Goodwife Bassett was convicted and hung at Stratford for witchcraft in 1651, and Goodwife Knapp at Fairfield in 1653. It is also recorded in Winthrop's _Journal_ that 'One ---- of Windsor was arraigned and executed at Hartford for a witch' in March, 1646-47, which if it actually occurred, forms the first instance of an execution for witchcraft in New England. The quotation here given is the only known authority for the statement, and opens the question whether something probably recorded as hearsay in a journal, may be taken as authoritative evidence of an occurrence.... The fact however remains, that the official records are as our author says, silent regarding the actual proceedings, and it is only by inference that it may be found from these records that the executions took place." (Introduction to Reprint of _Trumbull's History of Connecticut_, 1898, JONATHAN TRUMBULL.) The searcher for inerrant information about witchcraft in Connecticut may easily be led into a maze of contradictions, and the statement last above quoted is an apt illustration, with record evidence to the contrary on every hand. Tradition, hearsay, rumor, misstatements, errors, all colored by ignorance or half knowledge, or a local jealousy or pride, have been woven into a woof of precedent and acceptance, and called history. As has been already stated, the general writers from Trumbull to Johnston have nothing of value to say on the subject; the open official records and the latest history--_Connecticut as a Colony and a State_--cover only certain cases, and nowhere from the beginning to this day has the story of witchcraft been fully told. Connecticut can lose nothing in name or fame or honor, if, more than two centuries after the last witch was executed within her borders, the facts as to her share in the strange superstition be certified from the current records of the events. How may this story best be told? Clearly, so far as may be, in the very words of the actors in those tragic scenes, in the words of the minister and magistrate, the justice and the juryman, the accuser and the accused, and the searcher. Into this court of inquiry come all these personalities to witness the sorrowful march of the victims to the scaffold or to exile, or to acquittal and deliverance with the after life of suspicion and social ostracism. The spectres of terror did not sit alone at the firesides of the poor and lowly: they stalked in high places, and were known of men and women of the first rank in education and the social virtues, and of greatest influence in church and state. Of this fact there is complete demonstration in a glance at the dignitaries who presided at one of the earliest witchcraft trials--men of notable ancestry, of learning, of achievements, leaders in colonial affairs, whose memories are honored to this day. These were the magistrates at a session entitled "A particular courte in Hartford upon the tryall of John Carrington and his wife 20th Feb., 1662" (See _Rec. P.C._, 2: 17): Edw. Hopkins Esqr., Gournor John Haynes Esqr. Deputy, Mr. Wells, Mr. Woolcott, Mr. Webster, Mr. Cullick, Mr. Clarke. This court had jurisdiction over misdemeanors, and was "aided by a jury," as a close student of colonial history, the late Sherman W. Adams, quaintly says in one of his historical papers. These were the jurymen: Mr. Phelps John White John More Mr. Tailecoat Will Leawis Edw. Griswold Mr. Hollister Sam. Smith Steph. Harte Daniel Milton John Pratt Theo. Judd Before this tribunal--representative of the others doing like service later--made up of the foremost citizens, and of men in the ordinary walks of life, endowed with hard common sense and presumably inspired with a spirit of justice and fair play, came John Carrington and his wife Joan of Wethersfield, against whom the jury brought in a verdict of guilty. It must be clearly borne in mind that all these men, in this as in all the other witchcraft trials in Connecticut, illustrious or commonplace--as are many of their descendants whose names are written on the rolls of the patriotic societies in these days of ancestral discovery and exploitation--were absolute believers in the powers of Satan and his machinations through witchcraft and the evidence then adduced to prove them, and trained to such credulity by their education and experience, by their theological doctrines, and by the law of the land in Old England, but still clothed upon with that righteousness which as it proved in the end made them skeptical as to certain alleged evidences of guilt, and swift to respond to the calls of reason and of mercy when the appeals were made to their calm judgment and second thought as to the sins of their fellowmen. In no way can the truth be so clearly set forth, the real character of the evidence be so justly appreciated upon which the convictions were had, as from the depositions and the oral testimony of the witnesses themselves. They are lasting memorials to the credulity and superstition, and the religious insanity which clouded the senses of the wisest men for a time, and to the malevolence and satanic ingenuity of the people who, possessed of the devil accused their friends and neighbors of a crime punishable by death. Nor is this dark chapter in colonial history without its flashes of humor and ridiculousness, as one follows the absurd and unbridled testimonies which have been chosen as completely illustrative of the whole series in the years of the witchcraft nightmare. They are in part cited here, for the sake of authenticity and exactness, as written out in the various court records and depositions, published and unpublished, in the ancient style of spelling, and are worthy the closest study for many reasons. It will, however, clear the way to a better understanding of the unique testimonies of the witch witnesses, if there be first presented the authoritative reasons for the examination of a witch, coupled with a summary of the lawful tests of innocence or guilt. They are in the handwriting of William Jones, a Deputy Governor of Connecticut and a member of the court at some of the trials. GROUNDS FOR EXAMINATION OF A WITCH "1. Notorious defamacon by ye common report of the people a ground of suspicion. "2. Second ground for strict examinacon is if a fellow witch gave testimony on his examinacon or death yt such a pson is a witch, but this is not sufficient for conviccon or condemnacon. "3. If after cursing, there follow death or at least mischiefe to ye party. "4. If after quarrelling or threatening a prsent mischiefe doth follow for ptye's devilishly disposed after cursing doe use threatnings, & yt alsoe is a grt prsumcon agt y. "5. If ye pty suspected be ye son or daughter, the serv't or familiar friend, neer neighbors or old companion of a knowne or convicted witch this alsoe is a prsumcon, for witchcraft is an art yt may be larned & covayd from man to man & oft it falleth out yt a witch dying leaveth som of ye aforesd heires of her witchcraft. "6. If ye pty suspected have ye devills mark for t'is thought wn ye devill maketh his covent with y he alwayess leaves his mark behind him to know y for his owne yt is, if noe evident reason in can be given for such mark. "7. Lastly if ye pty examined be unconstant & contrary to himselfe in his answers. "Thus much for examinacon wch usually is by Q. & some tymes by torture upon strong & grt presumcon. "For conviccon it must be grounded on just and sufficient proofes. The proofes for conviccon of 2 sorts, 1, Some be less sufficient, some more sufficient. "Less sufficient used in formr ages by red hot iron and scalding water. ye pty to put in his hand in one or take up ye othr, if not hurt ye pty cleered, if hurt convicted for a witch, but this was utterly condemned. In som countryes anothr proofe justified by some of ye learned by casting ye pty bound into water, if she sanck counted inocent, if she sunk not yn guilty, but all those tryalls the author counts supstitious and unwarrantable and worse. Although casting into ye water is by some justified for ye witch having made a ct wth ye devill she hath renounced her baptm & hence ye antipathy between her & water, but this he makes nothing off. Anothr insufficient testimoy of a witch is ye testimony of a wizard, who prtends to show ye face of ye witch to ye party afflicted in a glass, but this he counts diabolicall & dangerous, ye devill may reprsent a pson inocent. Nay if after curses & threats mischiefe follow or if a sick pson like to dy take it on his death such a one has bewitched him, there are strong grounds of suspicon for strict examinacon but not sufficient for conviccon. "But ye truer proofes sufficient for conviccon are ye voluntary confession of ye pty suspected adjudged sufficient proofe by both divines & lawyers. Or 2 the testimony of 2 witnesses of good and honest report avouching things in theire knowledge before ye magistrat 1 wither yt ye party accused hath made a league wth ye devill or 2d or hath ben some knowne practices of witchcraft. Argumts to prove either must be as 1 if they can pve ye pty hath invocated ye devill for his help this pt of yt ye devill binds withes to. "Or 2 if ye pty hath entertained a familiar spt in any forme mouse cat or othr visible creature. "Or 3 if they affirm upon oath ye pty hath done any accon or work wch inferreth a ct wth ye devill, as to shew ye face of a man in a glass, or used inchantmts or such feates, divineing of things to come, raising tempests, or causing ye forme of a dead man to appeare or ye like it sufficiently pves a witch. "But altho those are difficult things to prove yet yr are wayes to come to ye knowledg of y, for tis usuall wth Satan to pmise anything till ye league be ratified, & then he nothing ye discovery of y, for wtever witches intend the devill intends nothing but theire utter confusion, therefore in ye just judgmt of God it soe oft falls out yt some witches shall by confession discour ys, or by true testimonies be convicted. "And ye reasons why ye devill would discover y is 1 his malice towards all men 2 his insatiable desire to have ye witches not sure enough of y till yn. "And ye authors warne jurors, &c not to condemne suspected psons on bare prsumtions wthout good & sufficient proofes. "But if convicted of yt horrid crime to be put to death, for God hath said thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." The accuser and the prosecutor were aided in their work in a peculiar way. It was the theory and belief that every witch was marked--very privately marked--by the Devil, and the marks could only be discovered by a personal examination. And thus there came into the service of the courts a servant known as a "searcher," usually a woman, as most of the unfortunates who were accused were women. The location and identification of the witch marks involved revolting details, some of the reports being unprintable. It is, however, indispensable to a right understanding of the delusion and the popular opinions which made it possible, that these incidents, abhorrent and nauseating as they are, be given within proper limitations to meet inquiry--not curiosity--and because they may be noted in various records. A standard authority in legal procedure in England, recognized in witchcraft prosecutions in the New England colonies, was _Dalton's Country Justice_, first published in 1619 in England, and in its last edition in 1746. In its chapter on Witchcraft are these directions as to the witch marks: "These witches have ordinarily a familiar, or spirit which appeareth to them, sometimes in one shape and sometimes in another; as in the shape of a man, woman, boy, dog, cat, foal, hare, rat, toad, etc. And to these their spirits, they give names, and they meet together to christen them (as they speak).... And besides their sucking the Devil leaveth other marks upon their body, sometimes like a blue or red spot, like a flea-biting, sometimes the flesh sunk in and hollow. And these Devil's marks be insensible, and being pricked will not bleed, and be often in their secretest parts, and therefore require diligent and careful search. These first two are main points to discover and convict those witches." These methods were adopted in the proceedings against witches in Connecticut, and it will suffice to cite one of the reports of a committee--Sarah Burr, Abigail Burr, Abigail Howard, Sarah Wakeman, and Hannah Wilson,--"apointed (by the court) to make sarch upon ye bodis of Marcy Disbrough and Goodwif Clauson," at Fairfield, in September and October 1692, sworn to before Jonathan Bell, Commissioner, and John Allyn, Secretary. "Wee Sarah bur and abigall bur and Abigail howard and Sarah wakman all of fayrfeild with hanna wilson being by order of authority apointed to make sarch upon ye bodis of marcy disbrough and goodwif Clauson to see what they Could find on ye bodies of ether & both of them; and wee retor as followeth and doe testify as to goodwif Clauson forementioned wee found on her secret parts Just within ye lips of ye same growing within sid sumewhat as broad and reach without ye lips of ye same about on Inch and half long lik in shape to a dogs eare which wee apprehend to be vnvsuall to women. "and as to marcy wee find on marcy foresayd on her secret parts growing within ye lep of ye same a los pees of skin and when puld it is near an Inch long somewhat in form of ye fingar of a glove flatted "that lose skin wee Judge more than common to women." "Octob. 29 1692 The above sworn by the above-named as attests "JOHN ALLYN Secry" CHAPTER VI "Remembering all this, it is not surprising that witches were tried, convicted and put to death in New England; and the manner in which the waning superstition was dealt with by Connecticut lawyers and ministers is the more significant of that robust common sense, rejection of superstition, political and religious, and fearless acceptance of the ethical mandates of the great Law-giver, which influenced the growth of their jurisprudence and stamped it with an unmistakable individuality." _Connecticut; Origin of her Courts and Laws_ (N.E. States, 1: 487-488), HAMERSLEY. "They made witch-hunting a branch of their social police, and desire for social solidarity. That this was wrong and mischievous is granted; but it is ordinary human conduct now as then. It was a most illogical, capricious, and dangerous form of enforcing punishment, abating nuisances, and shutting out disagreeable truths; fertile in injustice, oppression, the shedding of innocent blood, and the extinguishing of light. No one can justify it, or plead beneficial results from it which could not have been secured with far less evil in other ways. But it was natural that, believing the crime to exist, they should use the belief to strike down offenders or annoyances out of reach of any other _legal_ means. They did not invent the crime for the purpose, nor did they invent the death penalty for this crime." _Connecticut as a Colony_ (1: 206), MORGAN. "As to what you mention, concerning that poor creature in your town that is afflicted and mentioned my name to yourself and son, I return you hearty thanks for your intimation about it, and for your charity therein mentioned; and I have great cause to bless God, who, of his mercy hitherto, hath not left me to fall into such an horrid evil." Extract of a Letter from Sec. Allyn to Increase Mather, Hartford, Mar. 18, 1692-93. An accusation of witchcraft was a serious matter, one of life or death, and often it was safer to become an accuser than one of the accused. Made in terror, malice, mischief, revenge, or religious dementia, or of some other ingredients in the Devil's brew, it passed through the stages of suspicion, espionage, watchings, and searchings, to the formal complaints and indictments which followed the testimony of the witnesses, in their madness and delusion hot-foot to tell the story of their undoing, their grotesque imaginings, their spectral visions, their sufferings at the hands of Satan and his tools, and all aimed at people, their neighbors and acquaintances, often wholly innocent, but having marked personal peculiarities, or of irregular lives by the Puritan standard, or unpopular in their communities, who were made the victim of one base passion or another and brought to trial for a capital offense against person and property. Taking into account the actual number of accusations, trials, and convictions or acquittals, the number of witnesses called and depositions given was very great. And the later generations owe their opportunity to judge aright in the matter, to the foresight of the men of chief note in the communities who saw the vital necessity of record evidence, and so early as 1666, in the General Court of Connecticut, it was ordered that "Whatever testimonies are improved in any court of justice in this corporation in any action or case to be tried, shall be presented in writing, and so kept by the secretary or clerk of the said court on file." This preliminary analysis brings the searcher for the truth face to face with the very witnesses who have left behind them, in the attested records, the ludicrous or solemn, the pitiable or laughable memorials of their own folly, delusion, or deviltry, which marked them then and now as Satan's chosen servitors. Among the many witnesses and their statements on oath now made available, the chief difficulty is one of selection and elimination; and there will be presented here with the context some of the chief depositions[F] and statements in the most notable witchcraft trials in some of the Connecticut towns, that are typical of all of them, and show upon what travesties of evidence the juries found their verdicts and the courts imposed their sentences. [Footnote F: The selected testimonies herein given are from the Connecticut and New Haven colonial records; from the original depositions in some of the witchcraft cases, in manuscript, a part of the _Wyllys Papers_, so called, now in the Connecticut State Library; and from the notes and papers on witchcraft of the late Charles J. Hoadley, LL.D., compiler of the colonial and state records, and for nearly a half century the state librarian.] KATHERINE (KATERAN) HARRISON At a Court of Assistants held at Hartford May 11, 1669, presided over by Maj. John Mason--the conqueror of the Pequots--then Deputy Governor, Katherine Harrison, after an examination by the court on a charge of suspicion of witchcraft, was committed to the common jail, to be kept in durance until she came to trial and deliverance by the law. At an adjourned session of the court at Hartford, May 25, 1669, presided over by John Winthrop, Governor, with William Leete, Deputy Governor, Major Mason and others as assistants, an indictment was found against the prisoner in these words: "Kateran Harrison thou standest here indicted by ye name of Kateran Harrison (of Wethersfield) as being guilty of witchcraft for that thou not haueing the fear of God before thine eyes hast had familiaritie with Sathan the grand enemie of god and mankind and by his help hast acted things beyond and beside the ordinary course of nature and hast thereby hurt the bodyes of divers of the subjects of or souraigne Lord the King of which by the law of god and of this corporation thou oughtest to dye." Katherine plead not guilty and "refered herself to a tryall by the jury present," to whom this solemn oath was administered: "You doe sware by the great and dreadful name of the everliuing god that you will well and truely try just verdict give and true deliverance make between or Souraigne Lord the King and such prisoner or prisoners at the barr as shall be given you in charge according to the Evidence given in Court and the lawes so help you god in or lord Jesus." A partial trial was had at the May session of the court, but the jury could not agree upon a verdict, and adjournment was had until the October session, when a verdict was to be given in, and the prisoner was remanded to remain in prison in the meantime. It seems incredible that men like Winthrop and Mason, Treat and Leete, and others of the foremost rank in those days, could have served as judges in such trials, and in all earnestness and sincerity listened to and given credence to the drivel, the travesties of common sense, the mockeries of truth, which fell from the lips of the witnesses in their testimonies. Some of the absurd charges against Katherine Harrison invite particular attention and need no comment. They speak for themselves. THOMAS BRACY (probably Tracy)--_Misfit jacket and breeches--Vision of the red calf's head--Murderous counsel--"Afflictinge"_ "Thomas Bracy aged about 31 years testifieth as follows that formerly James Wakeley would haue borrowed a saddle of the saide Thomas Bracy, which Thomas Bracy denyed to lend to him, he threatened Thomas and saide, it had bene better he had lent it to him. Allsoe Thomas Bracy beinge at worke the same day making a jacket & a paire of breeches, he labored to his best understanding to set on the sleeues aright on the jacket and seauen tymes he placed the sleues wronge, setting the elbow on the wronge side and was faine to rip them of and new set them on againe, and allsoe the breeches goeing to cut out the breeches, haueing two peices of cloth of different collors, he was soe bemoydered in the matter, that he cut the breeches one of one collor the other off another collor, in such a manner he was bemoydered in his understandinge or actinge yet neuertheless the same daie and tyme he was well in his understandinge and health in other matters and soe was forced to leaue workinge that daie. "The said Thomas beinge at Sargant Hugh Wells his house ouer against John Harrison's house, in Weathersfield, he saw a cart cominge towards John Harrisons house loaden wth hay, on the top of the hay he saw perfectly a red calfes head, the eares standing peart up, and keeping his sight on the cart tell the cart came to the barne, the calfe vanised, and Harrison stoode on the carte wch appared not to Thomas before, nor could Thomas find or see any calfe theire at all though he sought to see the calfe. "After this Thomas Bracy giuing out some words, that he suspected Katherin Gooddy Harrison of witchcraft, Katherin Harrison mett Thomas Bracy and threatned Thomas telling him that shee would be euen with him. After that Thomas Bracy aforesaide, being well in his sences & health and perfectly awake, his brothers in bed with him, Thomas aforesaid saw the saide James Wakely and the saide Katherin Harrison stand by his bed side, consultinge to kill him the said Thomas, James Wakely said he would cut his throate, but Katherin counselled to strangle him, presently the said Katherin seised on Thomas striuinge to strangle him, and pulled or pinched him so as if his flesh had been pulled from his bones, theirefore Thomas groaned. At length his father Marten heard and spake, then Thomas left groninge and lay quiet a little, and then Katherin fell againe to afflictinge and pinching, Thomas againe groninge Mr. Marten heard and arose and came to Thomas whoe could not speake till Mr. Marten laid his hands on Thomas, then James and Katherin aforesaid went to the beds feete, his father Marten and his mother stayed watchinge by Thomas all that night after, and the next day Mr. Marten and his wife saw the mark of the saide afflictinge and pinchinge." "Dated 13th of August one thousand six hundred sixtie and eight. "Hadley. Taken upon oath before us. "HENRY CLARKE. "SAMUELL SMITH." JOSEPH DICKINSON--_Voice calling Hoccanum! Hoccanum! Hoccanum!--A far cry--Cows running "taile on end"_ "The deposition of Joseph Dickenson of Northampton, aged about 32 years, testifieth that he and Philip Smith of Hadley went down early in the morninge to the greate dry swampe, and theire we heard a voice call Hoccanum, Hoccanum, Come Hoccanum, and coming further into the swampe wee see that it was Katherin Harrison that caled as before. We saw Katherin goe from thence homewards. The said Philip parted from Joseph, and a small tyme after Joseph met Philip againe, and then the said Philip affirmed that he had seene Katherin's cows neare a mile from the place where Katherin called them. The saide Joseph went homewards, and goeing homeward met Samuell Bellden ridinge into or downe the meadow. Samuel Belden asked Joseph wheather he had seene the saide Katherin Harrison & the saide Samuel told Joseph aforesaide that he saw her neare the meadow gate, going homeward, and allso more told him that he saw Katherin Harrison her cows runninge with greate violence, taile on end, homewards, and said he thought the cattell would be at home soe soon as Katherin aforesaid if they could get out at the meadow gate, and further this deponent saieth not" Northampton, 13, 6, 1668, taken upon oth before us, William Clarke David Wilton. Exhibited in court Oct. 29, 1668. Attests John Allyn, Secry. RICHARD MOUNTAGUE--_Over the great river to Nabuck--The mystery of the swarming bees_ "Richard Mountague, aged 52 years, testifieth as followeth, that meeting with Goodwife Harrison in Weathersfield the saide Katherin Harrison saide that a swarm of her beese flew away over her neighbour Boreman's lott and into the great meadow, and thence over the greate river to Nabuck side, but the said Katherin saide that shee had fetched them againe; this seemed very strange to the saide Richard, because this was acted in a little tyme and he did believe the said Katherin neither went nor used any lawful meanes to fetch the said beese as aforesaid." Dated the 13 of August, 1668. Hadley, taken upon oath before us, Henry Clarke, Samuel Smith. Exhibited in Court, October 29: 68, as attests John Allyn Secretry. JOHN GRAVES--_Bucolic reflections--The trespass on his neighbor's "rowing"--The cartrope adventure--The runaway oxen_ "John Graves aged about 39 years testifieth that formerly going to reap in the meadow at Wethersfield, his land he was to work on lay near to John Harrison's land. It came into the thoughts of the said John Graves that the said John Harrison and Katherine his wife being rumored to be suspicious of witchcraft, therefore he would graze his cattle on the rowing of the land of goodman Harrison, thinking that if the said Harrisons were witches then something would disturb the quiet feeding of the cattle. He thereupon adventured and tied his oxen to his cart rope, one to one end and the other to the other end, making the oxen surely fast as he could, tieing 3 or 4 fast knots at each end, and tying his yoke to the cartrope about the middle of the rope between the oxen; and himself went about 10 or 12 pole distant, to see if the cattle would quietly feed as in other places. The cattle stood staring and fed not, and looking stedfastly on them he saw the cartrope of its own accord untie and fall to the ground; thereupon he went and tied the rope more fast and more knots in it and stood apart as before to see the issue. In a little time the oxen as affrighted fell to running, and ran with such violence that he judgeth that the force and speed of their running made the yoke so tied fly above six foot high to his best discerning. The cattle were used ordinarily before to be so tied and fed--in other places, & presently after being so tied on other men's ground they fed--peaceably as at other times." Dated August, 1668. Hadley; taken upon oath before us Henry Clarke, Samuel Smith. Exhibited in court Oct. 29th, 1668, attests John Allyn, Sec. JOANE FRANCIS--_The sick child--The spectre_ Joane Francis her testimony. "About 4 years ago, about the beginning of November, in the night just before my child was struck ill, goodwife Harrison or her shape appeared, and I said, the Lord bless me and my child, here is goody Harrison. And the child lying on the outside I took it and laid it between me and my husband. The child continued strangely ill about three weeks, wanting a day, and then died, had fits. We felt a thing run along the sides or side like a whetstone. Robert Francis saith he remembers his wife said that night the child was taken ill, the Lord bless me and my child, here is goody Harrison." JACOB JOHNSON'S WIFE--_The box on the head--Diet, drink, and plasters--Epistaxis_ "The relation of the wife of Jacob Johnson. She saith that her former husband was employed by goodman Harrison to go to Windsor with a canoe for meal, and he told me as he lay in his bed at Windsor in the night he had a great box on the head, and after when he came home he was ill, and goodwife Harrison did help him with diet drink and plasters, but after a while we sent to Capt. Atwood to help my husband in his distress, but the same day that he came at night I came in at the door, & to the best of my apprehension I saw the likeness of goodwife Harrison with her face towards my husband, and I turned about to lock the door & she vanist away. Then my husband's nose fell a bleeding in an extraordinary manner, & so continued (if it were meddled with) to his dying day. Sworn in court Oct. 29, 1668, attests John Allyn, Secy." MARY HALE--Noises and blows--The canine apparition--The voice in the night--The Devil a liar "That about the latter end of November, being the 29th day, 1668, the said Mary Hale lying in her bed, a good fire giving such light that one might see all over that room where the said Mary then was, the said Mary heard a noise, & presently something fell on her legs with such violence that she feared it would have broken her legs, and then it came upon her stomach and oppressed her so as if it would have pressed the breath out of her body. Then appeared an ugly shaped thing like a dog, having a head such that I clearly and distinctly knew to be the head of Katherine Harrison, who was lately imprisoned upon suspicion of witchcraft. Mary saw it walk to & fro in the chamber and went to her father's bedside then came back and disappeared. That day seven night next after, lying in her bed something came upon her in like manner as is formerly related, first on her legs & feet & then on her stomach, crushing & oppressing her very sore. She put forth her hand to feel (because there was no light in the room so as clearly to discern). Mary aforesaid felt a face, which she judged to be a woman's face, presently then she had a great blow on her fingers which pained her 2 days after, which she complained of to her father & mother, & made her fingers black and blue. During the former passages Mary called to her father & mother but could not wake them till it was gone. After this, the day of December in the night, (the night being very windy) something came again and spoke thus to her, saying to Mary aforesaid, You said that I would not come again, but are you not afraid of me. Mary said, No. The voice replied I will make you afraid before I have done with you; and then presently Mary was crushed & oppressed very much. Then Mary called often to her father and mother, they lying very near. Then the voice said, Though you do call they shall not hear till I am gone. Then the voice said, You said that I preserved my cart to carry me to the gallows, but I will make it a dear cart to you (which said words Mary remembered she had only spoke in private to her sister a little before & to no other.) Mary replied she feared her not, because God had kept her & would keep her still. The voice said she had a commission to kill her. Mary asked, Who gave you the commission? The voice replied God gave me the commission. Mary replied, The Devil is a liar from the beginning for God will not give commission to murder, therefore it must be from the devil. Then Mary was again pressed very much. Then the voice said, You will make known these things abroad when I am gone, but if you will promise me to keep these aforesaid matters secret I will come no more to afflict you. Mary replied I will tell it abroad. Whereas the said Mary mentions divers times in this former writing that she heard a voice, this said Mary affirmeth that she did & doth know that it was the voice of Katherine Harrison aforesaid; and Mary aforesaid affirmeth that the substance of the whole relation is truth." Sworn in Court May 25, 1669. Attest John Allyn, Sec'y. Elizabeth Smith--_Neighborly criticism--Fortune telling--Spinning yarn_ "Elizabeth the wife of Simon Smith of Thirty Mile Island testified that Catherine was noted by her and the rest of the family to be a great or notorious liar, a sabbath breaker, and one that told fortunes, and told the said Elizabeth her fortune, that her husband's name should be Simon; & also told the said Elizabeth some other matters that did come to pass; and also would oft speak and boast of her great familiarity with Mr. Lilley, one that told fortunes and foretold many matters that in furture times were to be accomplished. And also the said Katherine did often spin so great a quantity of fine linen yarn as the said Elizabeth did never know nor hear of any other woman that could spin so much. And further, the said Elizabeth said that Capt. Cullick observing the evil conversation in word and deed of the said Katherine turned her out of his service, one reason was because the said Katherine told fortunes." Taken upon oath Sept. 23, 1668 before John Allyn, Assistant. On such evidence, October 12, 1669, the jury being called to give in their verdict upon the indictment of Katherine Harrison, returned that they find the prisoner guilty of the indictment. But meanwhile important things in the history of the case had come to pass. Serious doubts arose in the minds of the magistrates as to accepting the verdict, and in their dilemma they took counsel not only of the law but of the gospel, and presented a series of questions to certain ministers--the same expedient adopted by the court at Salem twenty-three years later. The answer of the ministers is in the handwriting of Rev. Gershom Bulkeley of Wethersfield, the author of the unique treatise _Will and Doom_. It was a remarkable paper as to preternatural apparitions, the character of evidence for conviction, and its cautions as to its acceptance. It was this: "The answer of some ministers to the questions pr-pounded to them by the Honored Magistrates, Octobr 20, 1669. To ye 1st Quest whether a plurality of witnesses be necessary, legally to evidence one and ye same individual fact? Wee answer." "That if the proofe of the fact do depend wholly upon testimony, there is then a necessity of a plurality of witnesses, to testify to one & ye same individual fact; & without such a plurality, there can be no legall evidence of it. Jno 8, 17. The testimony of two men is true; that is legally true, or the truth of order. & this Cht alledges to vindicate ye sufficiency of the testimony given to prove that individual facte, that he himselfe was ye Messias or Light of the World. Mat. 26, 59, 60." "To the 2nd quest. Whether the preternatural apparitions of a person legally proved, be a demonstration of familiarity with ye devill? Wee anser, that it is not the pleasure of ye Most High, to suffer the wicked one to make an undistinguishable representation of any innocent person in a way of doing mischiefe, before a plurality of witnesses. The reason is because, this would utterly evacuate all human testimony; no man could testify, that he saw this pson do this or that thing, for it might be said, that it was ye devill in his shape." "To the 3d & 4th quests together: Whether a vitious pson foretelling some future event, or revealing of a secret, be a demonstration of familiarity with the devill? Wee say thus much." "That those things, whither past, present or to come, which are indeed secret, that is, cannot be knowne by human skill in arts, or strength of reason arguing from ye corse of nature, nor are made knowne by divine revelation either mediate or immediate, nor by information from man, must needes be knowne (if at all) by information from ye devill: & hence the comunication of such things, in way of divination (the pson prtending the certaine knowledge of them) seemes to us, to argue familiarity with ye devill, in as much as such a pson doth thereby declare his receiving the devills testimony, & yeeld up himselfe as ye devills instrument to comunicate the same to others." And meanwhile Katherine herself had not been idle even in durance. With a dignity becoming such a communication, and in a desperate hope that justice and mercy might be meted out to her, she addressed a petition to the court setting forth with unconscious pathos some of the wrongs and sufferings she had endured in person and estate; and one may well understand why under such great provocation she told Michael Griswold that he would hang her though he damned a thousand souls, and as for his own soul it was damned long ago. Vigorous and emphatic words, for which perhaps Katherine was punished enough, as she was adjudged to pay Michael in two actions for slander, £25 and costs in one and £15 and costs in the other. This was Katherine's appeal: Filed: Wid. Harrisons greuances presented to the court 6th of Octobr 1669. "A complaint of severall greiuances of the widow Harrisons which she desires the honored court to take cognizance of and as far as maybe to give her reliefe in." "May it please this honored court, to have patience with mee a little: having none to complain to but the Fathers of the Commonweale; and yet meetting with many injurys, which necessitate mee to look out for some releeife. I am told to present you with these few lines, as a relation of the wrongs that I suffer, humbly crauing your serious consideration of my state a widdow; of my wrongs, (wch I conceive are great) and that as far as the rules of justice and equitie will allow, I may have right and a due recompence." "That that I would present to you in the first place is we had a yoke of oxen one of wch spoyled at our stile before our doore, with blows upon the backe and side, so bruised that he was altogether unserviceable; about a fortnight or three weeks after the former, we had a cow spoyled, her back broke and two of her ribs, nextly I had a heifer in my barne yard, my ear mark of wch was cutt out and other ear marks set on; nextly I had a sow that had young pigs ear marked (in the stie) after the same manner; nextly I had a cow at the side of my yard, her jaw bone broke and one of her hoofs and a hole bored in her side, nextly I had a three yeare old heifer in the meadow stuck with knife or some weapon and wounded to death; nextly I had a cow in the street wounded in the bag as she stood before my door, in the street, nextly I had a sow went out into the woods, came home with ears luged and one of her hind legs cutt offe, lastly my corne in Mile Meadow much damnified with horses, they being staked upon it; it was wheat; All wch injurys, as they do sauor of enemy so I hope they will be looked upon by this honored court according to their natuer and judged according to there demerit, that so your poor suppliant may find some redrese; who is bold to subscribe." "Your servant and supplyant, "KATHERINE HARRISON. "Postscript. I had my horse wounded in the night, as he was in my pasture no creature save thre calves with him: More I had one two yeare old steer the back of it broke, in the barne yard, more I had a matter of 30 poles of hops cutt and spoyled; all wch things have hapened since my husband death, wch was last August was two yeare. There is wittnes to the oxen Jonathan & Josiah Gillert; to the cows being spoyled, Enoch Buck, Josiah Gilbert; to the cow that had her jaw bone broke, Dan, Rose, John, Bronson: to the heifer, one of widdow Stodder sons, and Willia Taylor; to the corne John Beckly; to the wound of the horse Anthony Wright, Goodman Higby; to the hops cutting, Goodwife Standish and Mary Wright; wch things being added, and left to your serious consideration, I make bold again to subscribe. "Yours, "KATHERINE HARRISON." At a special court of assistants held May 20, 1670, to which the General Assembly had referred the matter with power, the court having considered the verdict of the jury could not concur with them so as to sentence her to death, but dismissed her from her imprisonment, she paying her just fees; willing her to mind the fulfilment of removing from Wethersfield, "which is that will tend most to her own safety & the contentment of the people who are her neighbors." In the same year, having paid the expenses of her trials and imprisonment, she removed to Westchester, New York. Being under suspicion of witchcraft, her presence was unwelcome to the inhabitants there and complaint was made to Governor Lovelace. She gave security for her civil carriage and good behavior, and at the General Court of Assizes held in New York in October, 1670, in the case of Katherine Harrison, widow, who was bound to the good behavior upon complaint of some of the inhabitants of Westchester, it was ordered, "that in regard there is nothing appears against her deserving the continuance of that obligation she is to be released from it, & hath liberty to remain in the town of Westchester where she now resides, or anywhere else in the government during her pleasure." CHAPTER VII "Although our fathers cannot be charged with having regarded the Devil in his respectful and deferential light, it must be acknowledged, that they gave him a conspicuous and distinguished--we might almost say a dignified--agency in the affairs of life and the government of the world: they were prone to confess, if not to revere, his presence, in all scenes and at all times. He occupied a wide space, not merely in their theology and philosophy, but in their daily and familiar thoughts." UPHAM'S _Salem Witchcraft_. "There are in every community those who for one cause or another unfortunately incur the dislike and suspicion of the neighbors, and when belief in witchcraft prevailed such persons were easily believed to have familiarity with the evil one." _A Case of Witchcraft in Hartford_ (Connecticut Magazine, November, 1899), HOADLEY. Witchcraft in the Connecticut towns reached its climax in 1692--the fateful year at Salem, Massachusetts--and the chief center of its activity was in the border settlements at Fairfield. There, several women early in the year were accused of the crime, and among them Mercy Disborough. The testimonies against her were unique, and yet so typical that they are given in part as the second illustration. MERCY (DISBRO) DISBOROUGH A special court, presided over by Robert Treat, Governor, was held at Fairfield by order of the General Court, to try the witch cases, and September 14, 1692, a true bill was exhibited against Mercy Disborough, wife of Thomas Disborough of Compo in Fairfield, in these words: "Mercy Disborough is complayned of & accused as guilty of witchcraft for that on the 25t of Aprill 1692 & in the 4th year of their Maties reigne & at sundry other times she hath by the instigation & help of the diuill in a preternaturall way afflicted & don harme to the bodyes & estates of sundry of their Maties subjects or to some of them contrary to the law of God, the peace of our soueraigne lord & lady the King & Queen their crowne & dignity." "BILLA VERA." Others were indicted and tried, at this session of the court and its adjournments, notably Elizabeth Clawson. Many depositions were taken in Fairfield and elsewhere, some of the defendants were discharged and others convicted, but Mercy Disborough's case was the most noted one in the tests applied, and in the conclusions to which it led. The whole case with its singular incidents is worthy of careful study. Some of the testimony is given here. EDWARD JESOP--_The roast pig--"The place of Scripture"--The bewitched "cannoe"--The old cart horse--Optical illusions_ "Edward Jesop aged about 29 years testifieth that being at The: Disburrows house at Compoh sometime in ye beginning of last winter in ye evening he asked me to tarry & sup with him, & their I saw a pigg roasting that looked verry well, but when it came to ye table (where we had a very good lite) it seemed to me to have no skin upon it & looked very strangly, but when ye sd Disburrow began to cut it ye skin (to my apprehension) came againe upon it, & it seemed to be as it was when upon ye spit, at which strange alteration of ye pig I was much concerned however fearing to displease his wife by refusing to eat, I did eat some of ye pig, & at ye same time Isaac Sherwood being there & Disburrows wife & hee discoursing concerning a certain place of scripture, & I being of ye same mind that Sherwood was concerning yt place of scripture & Sherwood telling her where ye place was she brought a bible (that was of very large print) to me to read ye particular scripture, but tho I had a good light & looked ernestly upon ye book I could not see one letter but looking upon it againe when in her hand after she had turned over a few leaves I could see to read it above a yard of. Ye same night going home & coming to Compoh it seemed to be high water whereupon I went to a cannoe that was about ten rods of (which lay upon such a bank as ordinarily I could have shoved it into ye creek with ease) & though I lifted with all my might & lifted one end very high from ye ground I could by no means push it into ye creek & then ye water seemed to be so loe yt I might ride over, whereupon I went againe to ye water side but then it appeared as at first very high & then going to ye cannoe againe & finding that I could not get it into ye creek I thought to ride round where I had often been & knew ye way as well as before my own dore & had my old cart hors yet I could not keep him in ye road do what I could but he often turned aside into ye bushes and then went backwards so that tho I keep upon my hors & did my best indeauour to get home I was ye greatest part of ye night wandering before I got home altho I was not much more than two miles." "Fairfield Septembr 15th 1692. "Sworn in Court Septr 15 1692. Attests John Allyn, Secry." JOHN BARLOW--_Mesmeric influence--Light and darkness--The falling out_ "John Barlow eaged 24 years or thairabout saieth and sd testifieth that soumtime this last year that as I was in bedd in the hous that Mead Jesuop then liuied in that Marsey Desbory came to me and layed hold on my fett and pinshed them (and) looked wishley in my feass and I strouff to rise and cold not and too speek and cold not. All the time that she was with me it was light as day as it semed to me--but when shee uanicht it was darck and I arose and hade a paine in my feet and leags some time after an our or too it remained. Sometime before this aforesd Marcey and I had a falling out and shee sayed that if shee had but strength shee would teer me in peses." "Sworn in court Septr 19, 92. Attests John Allyn." BENJAMIN DUNING--_"Cast into ye watter"--Vindication of innocence--Mercy not to be hanged alone_ "A Speciall Cort held in Fairfield this 2d of June 1692. "Marcy Disbrow ye wife of Thomas Disbrow of Fairfield was sometimes lately accused by Catren Branch servant to Daniell Wescoat off tormenting her whereupon sd Mercy being sent for to Stanford and ther examined upon suspecion of witchcraft before athaurity and fro thnce conueyed to ye county jaile and sd Mercy ernestly desireing to be tryed by being cast into ye watter yesterday wch was done this day being examind what speciall reason she had to be so desiring of such a triall her answer was yt it was to vindicate her innocency allso she sd Mercy being asked if she did not say since she was duckt yt if she was hanged shee would not be hanged alone her answer was yt she did say to Benje Duning do you think yt I would be such a fooll as to be hanged allone. Sd Benj. Duning aged aboue sixteen years testifies yt he heard sd Mercy say yesterday that if she was hanged she would not be hanged allone wch was sd upon her being urged to bring out others that wear suspected for wiches." "Sept 15 1692 Sworn in Court by Benj. Duning attest John Allyn Secy "Joseph Stirg aged about 38 declares that he wth Benj. Duning being at prison discoursing with the prisoner now at the bar he heard her say if she were hanged she would not be hanged alone. He tould her she implicitly owned herself a witch." "Sworn in Court Sept. 15, atests John Allyn, Secry." THOMAS HALLIBERCH--_A poor creature "damd"--Torment--A lost soul--Divination_ "Thomas Halliberch ye jayle keeper aged 41 testifieth and saith yt this morning ye date aboue Samull Smith junr. came to his house and sad somthing to his wife somthing concerning Mercy and his wifes answer was Oh poor creature upon yt Mercy mad answer & sd poor creature indeed & sd shee had been tormented all night. Sd Halliberch answered her yt it was ye devill her answer was she did beleue it was and allso yt she sed to it in ye name of ye Father Son and Holy Gost also sd Halliberch saith yt sd Mercy sd that her soul was damd for yesterdays worke. Mercy owned before this court yt she did say to sd Halliberch that it was reuealled to her yt shee wisht she had not damd her soule for yesterdays work and also sad before this cort she belieued that there was a deuination in all her trouble." "Owned by the prisoner in court Sept. 15, 1692. attest John Allyn, Secy" THOMAS BENIT, ELIZABETH BENIT--"_A birds taile"--A family difference--"Ye Scripture words"--The lost "calues and lams_" "Thos. Benit aged aboute 50 yrs testifieth yt Mercy Disbrow tould him yt shee would make him as bare as a birds taile, which he saith was about two or three yrs sine wch was before he lost any of his creatures." "Elizabeth Benit aged about 20 yrs testifieth yt Mercy Disbrow did say that it should be prest heeped and running ouer to her sd Elizabth; wch was somtime last winter after som difference yt was aboute a sow of Benje. Rumseyes." "Mercy Disbrow owns yt she did say those words to sd Elizabeth & yt she did tell her yt it was ye scripture words & named ye place of scripture which was about a day after." "The abousd Thos. Benit saith yt after ye sd Mercy had expressed herself as above, he lost a couple of two yr old calues in a creek running by Halls Islande, which catle he followed by ye track & founde them one against a coue of ice & ye other about high water marke, & yt they went into ye creek som distance from ye road where ye other catle went not, & also yt he lost 30 lams wthin about a fortnights time after ye sd two catle died som of sd lams about a week old & som a fortnight & in good liueing case & allso saith yt som time after ye sd lams died he lost two calues yt he fectht up ouer night & seemed to be well & wear dead before ye next morning one of them about a fortnight old ye one a sucker & ye other not." HENRY GREY--_The roaring calfe--The mired cow--The heifer and cart whip--Hard words--"Creeses in ye cetle"_ "The said Henry saith yt aboute a year agou or somthing more yt he had a calfe very strangly taken and acted things yt are very unwonted, it roared very strangly for ye space of near six or seven howers & allso scowered extraordinarily all which after an unwonted maner; & also saith he had a lame after a very strange maner it being well and ded in about an houre and when it was skined it lookt as if it had been bruised or pinched on ye shoulders and allso saith yt about two or three months agou he and Thos Disbrow & sd Disbroughs wife was makeing a bargaine about a cetle yt sd Henry was to haue & had of sd Disbrough so in time they not agreeing sd Henry carried ye cetle to them againe & then sd Dibroughs wife was very angry and many hard words pased & yt som time since about two months he lost a cow which was mired in a swampe and was hanged by one leg in mire op to ye gambrill and her nose in the water and sd cow was in good case & saith he had as he judged about 8 pound of tallow out of sd cow & allso yt he had a thre yr old heifer came home about three weeks since & seemed to ale somthing she lay downe & would haue cast herself but he pruented her & he cut a piece of her eare & still shee seemed to be allmost dead & then he sent for his cart whip & gave ye cow a stroak wth it & she arose suddenly and ran from him & he followed her & struck her sundry times and yt wthin about one hour he judges she was well & chewed her cud allso sd Henry saith yt ye ketle he had of sd Disbrow loockt like a new ketle the hamer stroakes and creeses was plaine to be seen in ye cetle, from ye time he had it untill a short time before he carried it home & then in about a quarter of an hour, the cetle changed its looks & seemed to be an old cetle yt had been used about 20 years and yt sundry nailes appeared which he could not see before and allso saith yt somtime lately he being at his brother Jacob Grays house & Mercy Disbrough being there she begane to descorse about ye kitle yt because he would not haue ye cetle shee had said that it should cost him two cows which he tould her he could prove she had sed & her answer was Aye: & then was silent, & he went home & when he com home he heard Thomas Benit say he had a cow strangly taken yt day & he sent for his cart whip & whipye cow & shee was soon well againe & as near as he could com at it was about ye same time yt he tould Mercy he could prove what shee sad about ye two cows and allso saith yt as soon as he came home ye same time his wife tould him yt while Thos Benit had ye cart whip one of sd Henrys calues was taken strangly & yt she sent for ye whip & before ye whip came ye calf was well." JOHN GRUMMON--_A sick child--Its unbewitching--Benit's threats--Mercy's tenderness_ "John Grummon senr saith yt about six year agou he being at Compo with his wife & child & ye child being very well as to ye outward vew and it being suddenly taken very ill & so remained a little while upon wch he being much troubled went out & heard young Thomas Benit threaten Mercy Disbrow & bad her unbewitch his uncles child whereupon she came ouer to ye child & ye child was well. "Thomas Benit junr aged 27 years testifieth yt at ye same time of ye above sd childs illness he came into ye house wher it was & he spoke to sd John Gruman to go & scould at Mercy & tould him if he sd Gruman would not he would wherupon he sd Benit went out and called to Mercy & bad her come and unbewitch his unkle Grumans child or else he would beat her hart out then sd mercy imediatly came ouer and stroaked ye child & sd God forbad she should hurt ye child and imediately after ye child was well." ANN GODFREE--_The frisky oxen--Neighborly interest--The "beer out of ye barrill"--Mixed theology--The onbewitched sow_ "Ann Godfree aged 27 years testifieth yt she came to Thos Disbrows house ye next morning after it was sd yt Henry Grey whipt his cow and sd Disbrows wife lay on ye bed & stretcht out her arme & sd to her oh! Ann I am allmost kild; & further saith yt about a year & eleven months agou she went to sd Disbrows house wth young Thos Benits wife & told Mercy Disbrow yt Henry Greys wife sed she had bewitcht his her husbands oxen & made y jump ouer ye fence & made ye beer jump out of ye barrill & Mercy answered yt there was a woman came to her & reuiled her & asked what shee was doing she told her she was praying to her God, then she asked her who was her god allso tould her yt her god was ye deuill; & Mercy said she bad ye woman go home & pray to her god & she went home but shee knew not whether she did pray or not; but she sed God had met wth her for she had died a hard death for reuileing on her & yt when ye sd Thos Benits wife & she came away sd Benits wife tould her yt woman yt was spoaken of was her sister and allso sed yt shee had heard those words which Mercy had related to her pas between Mercy and her sister. Upon yt sd An saith she would haue gon back & haue talked againe to Mercy & Thomas Benit senr bad her she should not for she would do her som mischief and yt night following shee sd Ann saith she could not sleep & shee heard a noyse about ye house & allso heard a noyse like as tho a beast wear knoct with an axe & in ye morning their was a heifer of theirs lay ded near ye door. Allso sd An saith yt last summer she had a sow very sick and sd Mercy cam bye & she called to her & bad her on-bewitch her sow & tould her yt folks talked of ducking her but if she would not onbewitch her sow she should need no ducking & soon after yt her sow was well and eat her meat." That both what is on this side & the other is sworne in court. "Sept 15, 92. Attests, John Allyn Secy" "It has been heretofore noted that during her trial--from the records of which the foregoing testimony has been taken--the prisoner Mercy Disborough was subjected to a search for witch marks by a committee of women, faithfully sworn narrowly and truly to inspect and search. This indignity was repeated, and the women agreed "that there is found on her boddy as before they found, and nothing else." But the accused in order to her further detection was subjected to another test of English parentage, recommended by the authorities and embodied in the criminal codes. It was the notorious water test, or ordeal by water. September 15, 1692, this test was made, chiefly on the testimony of a young girl subject to epileptic fits and hysterics, who was carried into the meetinghouse where the examination was being held. Thus runs the record: _Daniel Westcott's "gerle"--Scenes in the meeting house--"Ye girl"--Mercy's voice--Usual paroxisme_ "The afflicted person being carried into ye meeting house & Mercy Disbrow being under examination by ye honable court & whilst she was speaking ye girl came to her sences, & sd she heard Mercy Disbrow saying withall where is she, endeavoring to raise herself, with her masters help got almost up, in ye open view of present, & Mercy Disbrow looking about on her, she immediately fel down into a fit again. A 2d time she came to herself whilst in ye meeting house, & askd whers Mercy, I hear her voice, & with that turned about her head (she lying with her face from her) & lookd on her, then laying herself down in like posture as before sd tis she, Ime sure tis she, & presently fell into a like paroxisme or fit as she usually is troubled with." Mercy Disborough, and another woman on trial at the same time (Elizabeth Clauson), were put to the test together, and two eyewitnesses of the sorry exhibition of cruelty and delusion made oath that they saw Mercy and Elizabeth bound hand and foot and put into the water, and that they swam upon the water like a cork, and when one labored to press them into the water they buoyed up like cork.[G] [Footnote G: Depositions of Abram Adams and Jonathan Squire, September 15, 1692.] At the close of the trial the jury disagreed and the prisoner was committed "to the common goale there to be kept in safe custody till a return may be made to the General Court for further direction what shall be don in this matter;" and the gentlemen of the jury were also to be ready, when further called by direction of the General Court, to perfect their verdict. The General Court ordered the Special Court to meet again "to put an issue to those former matters." October 28, 1692, this entry appears of record: "The jury being called to make a return of their indictment that had been committed to them concerning Mercy Disborough, they return that they find the prisoner guilty according to the indictment of familiarity with Satan. The jury being sent forth upon a second consideration of their verdict returned that they saw no reason to alter their verdict, but to find her guilty as before. The court approved of their verdict and the Governor passed sentence of death upon her." The hesitation of the jury to agree upon a verdict, the reference to the General Court for more specific authority to act, all point to serious question of the evidence, the motives of witnesses, the value of the traditional and lawful tests of the guilt of the accused. In the search for facts which the old records certify to at this late day, one is deeply impressed by the wisdom and potency of the sober afterthought and conclusions of some of the clergy, lawyers, and men of affairs, who sat as judges and jurors in the witch trials, which led them to weigh and analyze the evidence, spectral and otherwise, and so call a halt in the prosecutions and convictions. What some of the Massachusetts men did and said in the contemporaneous outbreak at Salem has been shown, but nowhere is the reaction there more clearly illustrated than in the statement of Reverend John Hale--great-grandsire of Nathan Hale, the revolutionary hero--the long time pastor at Beverly Farms, who from personal experience became convinced of the grave errors at the Salem trials, and in his _Modest Inquiry_ in 1697 said: "Such was the darkness of that day, the tortures and lamentations of the afflicted, and the power of former precedents, that we walked in the clouds and could not see our way.... observing the events of that sad catastrophe,--Anno 1692,--I was brought to a more strict scanning of the principles I had imbibed, and by scanning to question, and by questioning at length to reject many of them." _Nathan Hale_ (p. 10), Johnston. But no utterance takes higher rank, or deserves more consideration in its appeal to sanity, justice, and humanity, than the declaration of certain ministers and laymen of Connecticut, in giving their advice and "reasons" for a cessation of the prosecutions for witchcraft in the colonial courts, and for reprieving Mercy Disborough under sentence of death. This is the remarkable document: "Filed: The ministers aduice about the witches in Fayrfield, 1692. "As to ye evidences left to our consideration respecting ye two women suspected of witchcraft at Fairfield we offer "1. That we cannot but give our concurrance with ye generallity of divines that ye endeavour of conviction of witchcraft by swimming is unlawful and sinfull & therefore it cannot afford any evidence. "2. That ye unusuall excresencies found upon their bodies ought not to be allowed as evidence against them without ye approbation of some able physitians. "3. Respecting ye evidence of ye afflicted maid we find some things testifyed carrying a suspition of her counterfeiting; Others that plainly intimate her trouble from ye mother which improved by craft may produce ye most of those strange & unusuall effects affirmed of her; & of those things that by some may be thought to be diabolical or effects of witchcraft. We apprehend her applying of them to these persons merely from ye appearance of their spectres to her to be very uncertain and failable from ye easy deception of her senses & subtile devices of ye devill, wherefore cannot think her a sufficient witnesse; yet we think that her affliction being something strange it well deserves a farther inquiry. "4. As to ye other strange accidents as ye dying of cattle &c., we apprehend ye applying of them to these women as matters of witchcraft to be upon very slender & uncertain grounds. "Hartford JOSEPH ELIOT "Octobr 1692 TIMOTHY WOODBRIDGE." "The rest of ye ministers gave their approbation to ye sum of what is ... above written tho this could not be drawen up before their departure." (Above in handwriting of Rev. Timothy Woodbridge.) "Filed: Reasons of Repreuing Mercy Desbrough. "To the Honrd Gen: Assembly of Connecticut Colony sitting in Hartford. Reasons of repreuing Mercy Disbrough from being put to death until this Court had cognizance of her case. "First, because wee that repreued her had power by the law so to do. Secondly, because we had and haue sattisfying reasons that the sentence of death passed against her ought not to be executed which reasons we give to this Court to be judge of "1st. The jury that brought her in guilty (which uerdict was the ground of her condemnation) was not the same jury who were first charged with this prisoners deliuerance and who had it in charg many weeks. Mr. Knowles was on the jury first sworn to try this woman and he was at or about York when the Court sate the second time and when the uerdict was given, the jury was altered and another man sworn. "It is so inuiolable a practice in law that the indiudual jurors and jury that is charged with the deliuerance of a prisoner in a capital case and on whom the prisoner puts himself or herself to be tryed must try it and they only that al the presidents in Old England and New confirm it and not euer heard of til this time to be inouated. And yet not only president but the nature of the thing inforces it for to these juors the law gaue this power vested it in them they had it in right of law and it is incompatible and impossible that it should be uested in these and in others too for then two juries may haue the same power in the same case one man altered the jury is altered. "Tis the birthright of the Kings' subjects so and no otherwise to be tryed and they must not be despoyled of it. "Due form of law is that alone wherein the ualidity of verdicts and judgments in such cases stands and if a real and apparent murtherer be condemned and executed out of due form of law it is inditable against them that do it for in such case the law is superseded by arbitrary doings. "What the Court accepts and the prisoner accepts differing from the law is nothing what the law admitts is al in the case. "If one jury may be changed two, ten, the whole may be so, and solemn oathe made uain. "Wee durst not but dissent from and declare against such alterations by our repreueing therefore the said prisoner when ye were informed of this business about her jury, and we pray this honored Court to take heed what they do in it now it is roled to their doore and that at least they be well sattisfied from able lawyers that such a chang is in law alowable ere this prisoner be executed least they bring themselues into inextricable troubles and the whole country. Blood is a great thing and we cannot but open our mouths for the dumb in the cause of one appointed to die by such a uerdict. "2dly. We had a good accompt of the euidences giuen against her that none of them amounted to what Mr. Perkins, Mr. Bernard and Mr. Mather with others state as sufficiently conuictiue of witchcraft, namely 1st Confession (this there was none of) 2dly two good wittnesses proueing som act or acts done by the person which could not be but by help of the deuill, this is the summe of what they center in as thair books show as for the common things of spectral euidence il euents after quarels or threates, teates, water tryalls and the like with suspitious words they are al discarded and som of them abominated by the most judicious as to be conuictiue of witchcraft and the miserable toyl they are in the Bay for adhereing to these last mentioned litigious things is warning enof, those that will make witchcraft of such things will make hanging work apace and we are informed of no other but such as these brought against this woman. "These in brief are our reasons for repreueing this prisoner. May 12th, 1693. SAMUELL WILLIS. WM PITKIN NATH STANLY. "The Court may please to consider also how farr these proceedings do put a difficulty on any further tryal of this woman." All honor to Joseph Elliot, Timothy Woodbridge and their ministerial associates; to Samuel Willis, Pitkin and Nath. Stanly, level-headed men of affairs, all friends of the court called upon for advice and counsel--who gave it in full scriptural measure.[H] [Footnote H: Mercy Disborough was pardoned, as the records show that she was living in 1707.] CHAPTER VIII "Old Matthew Maule was executed for the crime of witchcraft. He was one of the martyrs to that terrible delusion, which should teach us, among its other morals, that the influential classes, and those who take upon themselves to be leaders of the people, are fully liable to all the passionate error that has ever characterized the maddest mob." "Clergymen, judges, statesmen--the wisest, calmest, holiest persons of their day--stood in the inner circle round about the gallows, loudest to applaud the work of blood, latest to confess themselves miserably deceived." "This old reprobate was one of the sufferers when Cotton Mather, and his brother ministers, and the learned judges, and other wise men, and Sir William Phipps, the sagacious governor, made such laudable efforts to weaken the great enemy of souls by sending a multitude of his adherents up the rocky pathway of Gallows Hill." _The House of the Seven Gables_ (20: 225), HAWTHORNE. "Then, too, the belief in witchcraft was general. Striking coincidences, personal eccentricities, unusual events and mysterious diseases seemed to find an easy explanation in an unholy compact with the devil. A witticism attributed to Judge Sewall, one of the judges in these trials, may help us to understand the common panic: 'We know who's who but not which is witch.' That was the difficulty. At a time when every one believed in witchcraft it was easy to suspect one's neighbor. It was a characteristic superstition of the century and should be classed with the barbarous punishments and religious intolerance of the age." _N.E. Hist. Towns_.--LATIMER'S--_Salem_ (150). Multiplication of these witchcraft testimonies, quaint and curious, vulgar and commonplace, evil and pathetic, voices all of a strange superstition, understandable only as through them alone can one gain a clear perspective of the spirit of the time and place, would prove wearisome. They may well remain in the ancient records until they find publicity in detail in some accurate and complete history of the beginnings of the commonwealth--including this strange chapter in its unique history. It will, however, serve a present necessary purpose, and lead to a more exact conception of the reign of unreason, if glimpses be taken here and there of a few of the statements made on oath in some of the other cases. ELIZABETH SEAGER Daniell Gabbett and Margaret Garrett--_The mess of parsnips--Hains' "hodg podg"--Satan's interference_ "The testimony of Daniell Garrett senior and the testimony of Margarett Garrett. Goodwife Gaarrett saith that goodwife Seager said there was a day kept at Mr. Willis in reference to An Coale; and she further said she was in great trouble euen in agony of spirit, the ground as follows that she sent her owne daughtr Eliza Seager to goodwife Hosmer to carry her a mess a parsnips. Goodwife Hosmer was not home. She was at Mr. Willis at the fast. Goodm Hosmer and his son was at home. Goodm Hosmer bid the child carry the parsnips home againe he would not receiue them and if her mother desired a reason, bid her send her father and he would tell him the reason. Goodwife Seager upon the return of the parsnips was much troubled and sent for her husband and sent him up to Goodm Hosmer to know the reason why he would not reciue the parsnips, and he told goodman Seager it was because An Coale at the fast at Mr. Willis cryed out against his wife as being a witch and he would not receiue the parsnips least he should be brought in hereaftr as a testimony against his wife. Then goodwif Seager sd that Mr. Hains had writt a great deal of hodg podg that An Coale had sd that she was under suspicion for a witch, and then she went to prayer, and did adventure to bid Satan go and tell them she was no witch. This deponent after she had a little paused said, who did you say, then goodw Seger sd againe she had sent Satan to tell them she was no witch. This deponent asked her why she made use of Satan to tell them, why she did not besech God to tell them she was no witch. She answered because Satan knew she was no witch. Goodman Garrett testifies that before him and his wife, Goodwife Seager said that she sent Satan to tell them she was no witch." ROBERT STERNE, STEPHEN HART, JOSIAH WILLARD AND DANIEL PRATT--_Four women--Two black creatures--A kettle and a dance--"That place in the Acts about the 7 sons"_ "Robert Sterne testifieth as followeth. "I saw this woman goodwife Seager in ye woods wth three more women and with them I saw two black creaures like two Indians but taller. I saw likewise a kettle there over a fire. I saw the women dance round these black creatures and whiles I looked upon them one of the women G: Greensmith said looke who is yonder and then they ran away up the hill. I stood still and ye black things came towards mee and then I turned to come away. He further saith I knew the psons by their habits or clothes haueing observed such clothes on them not long before." "Wee underwritten do testifie, that goodwife Seager said, (upon the relateing of goodwife Garrett testimony, in reference to Seager sending Satan,) that the reason why she sent Satan, was because he knew she was no witch, we say Seager said Dame you can remember part of what I said, but you do not speak of the whole you say nothing of what I brought to prove that Satan knew that I was no witch. I brought that place in the Acts, about the 7 sons that spake to the euill spirits in the name of Jesus whom Paul preacheth I have forgot there names. "STEPHEN HART "JOSIAH WlLLARD "DANIEL PRATT." MRS. MIGAT--_A warm greeting, "how doe yow"--"god was naught"--"Hell need not be feared, for she should not burn in ye fire"--The ghost "stracke"_ "Mrs. Migat sayth she went out to give her calues meat, about fiue weekes since, & goodwif Segr came to her and shaked her by ye arme, & sd she how doe yow, how doe yow, Mrs. Migatt. "2d Mrs. Migatt alsoe saith: a second time goodwife Segr came her towerds ye little riuer, a litle below ye house wch she now dweleth in, and told her, that god was naught, god was naught, it was uery good to be a witch and desired her to be one, she should not ned fare going to hell, for she should not burne in ye fire Mrs. Migat said to her at this time that she did not loue her; she was very naught, and goodwif Segr shaked her by ye hands and bid her farwell, and desired her, not to tell any body what shee had said unto her. "3d Time. Mrs. Migat affirmeth yt goodwife Segr came to her at ye hedge corner belonging to their house lot, and their spake to her but what she could not tell, wch caused Mrs. Migatt (as she sayth) to (turn) away wth great feare. "Mrs. Migat sayth a little before ye floud this spring, goodwife Segr came into thaire house, on a mone shining night, and took her by ye hand and stracke her on ye face as she was in beed wth her husband, whome she could wake, and then goodwife Segr went away, and Mrs. Migat went to ye dore but darst not looke out after her. "These pticulers Mrs. Migat charged goodwife Segr wth being face to face, at Mr. Migats now dwelling house." "John Talcott." _Staggerings of the jury--"Shuffing"--"Grinding teeth"--Seager's denials--Contradictions--Acquittal_ "Janur 16 1662 "The causes why half the jury ore more did in their vote cast gooddy Seger (and the rest of the jury were deeply suspitious, and were at a great loss and staggeringe whereby they were sometimes likely to com up in their judgments to the rest, whereby she was allmost gone and cast as the foreman expressed to her at giuing in of the verdict) are these "First it did apeare by legall euidence that she had intimat familliarity with such as had been wiches, viz goody Sanford and goody Ayrs. 2ly this she did in open court stoutly denie saing the witnesses were preiudiced persons, and that she had now more intimacy then they themselves, and when the witneses questioned with her about frequent being there she said she went to lerne to knitt; this also she stoutly denied, and said of the witneses they belie me, then when Mr. John Allen sd did she not teach you to knitt, she answered sturdily and sayd, I do not know that I am bound to tell you & at another time being pressed to answ she sayd, nay I will hould what I have if I must die, yet after this she confessed that she had so much intimacy with one of ym as that they did change woorke one with another. 3ly she having sd that she did hate goody Aiers it did appear that she bore her great yea more than ordinarily good will as apeared by releeuing her in her truble, and was couert way, and was trubled that is was discouered; likewise when goody Aiers said in court, this will take away my liffe, goody Seger shuffed her with her hand & sd hould your tongue wt grinding teeth Mr. John Allen being one wittnes hearto when he had spoken, she sd they seek my innocent blood; the magistrats replied, who she sd euery body. 4ly being spoken to about triall by swiming, she sagd the diuill that caused me to com heare can keep me up. "About the buisnes of fliing the most part thought it was not legally proued. "Lastly the woman and Robert Stern being boath upon oath their wittnes was judged legall testimony ore evidence only som in the jury because Sternes first words upon his oath were, I saw these women and as I take it goody Seger was there though after that he sayd, I saw her there, I knew her well I know God will require her blood at my hands if I should testifie falsly. Allso bec he sd he saw her kittle, there being at so great a distance, they doubted that these things did not only weaken & blemish his testimony, but also in a great measure disable it for standing to take away liffe." "WALT. FYLER." Elizabeth Seager was acquitted. ELIZABETH GODMAN Of all the women who set the communities ablaze with their witcheries, none in fertility of invention and performance surpassed Elizabeth Godman of New Haven--a member of the household of Stephen Goodyear, the Deputy Governor. Reverend John Davenport said, in a sermon of the time, "that a froward discontented frame of spirit was a subject fitt for ye Devill," and Elizabeth was accused by Goodwife Larremore and others of being in "such a frame of spirit," and of practicing the black arts. She promptly haled her accusers before a court of magistrates, August 4, 1653, with Governor Theophilus Eaton and Deputy Governor Stephen Goodyear present; and when asked what she charged them with, she desired that "a wrighting might be read--wch was taken in way of examination before ye magistrate," in May, 1653. The "wrighting" did not prove helpful to Elizabeth's case. The statements of witnesses and of the accused are in some respects unique, and of a decided personal quality. _"Hobbamocke"--The "swonding fitt"--Lying--Evil communications--The Indian's statement--"Ye boyes sickness"--"Verey strang fitts"--"Figgs"-- "Pease porridge"--"A sweate"--Mrs. Goodyeare's opinion--Absorption-- Contradictions--Goodwife Thorp's chickens--"Water and wormes"_ "Mris. Godman was told she hath warned to the court diuers psons, vizd: Mr. Goodyeare, Mris. Goodyeare, Mr. Hooke, Mris. Hooke, Mris. Atwater, Hanah & Elizabeth Lamberton, goodwife Larremore, goodwife Thorpe, &c., and was asked what she had to charge them wth, she said they had given out speeches that made folkes thinke she was a witch, and first she charged Mris. Atwater to be ye cause of all, and to cleere things desired a wrighting might be read wch was taken in way of examination before ye magistrate, (and in here after entred,) wherein sundrie things concerning Mris. Atwater is specifyed wch we now more fully spoken to, and she further said that Mris. Atwater had said that she thought she was a witch and that Hobbamocke was her husband, but could proue nothing, though she was told that she was beforehand warned to prepare her witnesses ready, wch she hath not done, if she haue any. After sundrie of the passages in ye wrighting were read, she was asked if these things did not giue just ground of suspition to all that heard them that she was a witch. She confessed they did, but said if she spake such things as is in Mr. Hookes relation she was not herselfe.... Beside what is in the papr, Mris. Godman was remembred of a passage spoken of at the gouernors aboute Mr. Goodyeare's falling into a swonding fitt after hee had spoken something one night in the exposition of a chapter, wch she (being present) liked not but said it was against her, and as soone as Mr. Goodyeare had done duties she flung out of the roome in a discontented way and cast a fierce looke vpon Mr. Goodyeare as she went out, and imediately Mr. Goodyeare (though well before) fell into a swond, and beside her notorious lying in this buisnes, for being asked how she came to know this, she said she was present, yet Mr. Goodyeare, Mris. Goodyeare, Hanah and Elizabeth Lamberton all affirme she was not in ye roome but gone vp into the chamber." THE "WRIGHTING" "The examination of Elizabeth Godman, May 12th, 1653. "Elizabeth Godman made complainte of Mr. Goodyeare, Mris. Goodyeare, Mr. Hooke, Mris. Hooke, Mris. Bishop, Mris. Atwater, Hanah & Elizabeth Lamberton, and Mary Miles, Mris. Atwaters maide, that they haue suspected her for a witch; she was now asked what she had against Mr. Hooke and Mris. Hooke; she said she heard they had something against her aboute their soone. Mr. Hooke said hee was not wthout feares, and hee had reasons for it; first he said it wrought suspition in his minde because shee was shut out at Mr. Atwaters vpon suspition, and hee was troubled in his sleepe aboute witches when his boye, was sicke, wch was in a verey strang manner, and hee looked vpon her as a mallitious one, and prepared to that mischiefe, and she would be often speaking aboute witches and rather justifye them then condemne them; she said why doe they provoake them, why doe they not let them come into the church. Another time she was speaking of witches wthout any occasion giuen her, and said if they accused her for a witch she would haue them to the gouernor, she would trounce them. Another time she was saying she had some thoughts, what if the Devill should come to sucke her, and she resolued he should not sucke her.... Time, Mr. Hookes Indian, said in church meeting time she would goe out and come in againe and tell them what was done at meeting. Time asking her who told, she answered plainly she would not tell, then Time said did not ye Devill tell you.... Time said she heard her one time talking to herselfe, and she said to her, who talke you too, she said, to you; Time said you talke to ye Devill, but she made nothing of it. Mr. Hooke further said, that he hath heard that they that are adicted that way would hardly be kept away from ye houses where they doe mischiefe, and so it was wth her when his boy was sicke, she would not be kept away from him, nor gott away when she was there, and one time Mris. Hooke bid her goe away, and thrust her from ye boye, but she turned againe and said she would looke on him. Mris. Goodyeare said that one time she questioned wth Elizabeth Godmand aboute ye boyes sickness, and said what thinke you of him, is he not strangly handled, she replyed, what, doe you thinke hee is bewitched; Mris. Goodyeare said nay I will keepe my thoughts to myselfe, but in time God will discouer ... "Mr. Hooke further said, that when Mr. Bishop was married, Mris. Godman came to his house much troubled, so as he thought it might be from some affection to him, and he asked her, she said yes; now it is suspitious that so soone as they were contracted Mris. Byshop fell into verey strang fitts wch hath continewed at times euer since, and much suspition there is that she hath bine the cause of the loss of Mris. Byshops chilldren, for she could tell when Mris. Bishop was to be brought to bedd, and hath giuen out that she kills her chilldren wth longing, because she longs for every thing she sees, wch Mris. Bishop denies.... Another thing suspitious is, that she could tell Mris. Atwater had figgs in her pocket when she saw none of them; to that she answered she smelt them, and could smell figgs if she came in the roome, nere them that had them; yet at this time Mris. Atwater had figgs in her pocket and came neere her, yet she smelt them not; also Mris. Atwater said that Mris. Godman could tell that they one time had pease porridge, when they could none of them tell how she came to know, and beeing asked she saith she see ym on the table, and another time she saith she was there in ye morning when the maide set them on. Further Mris. Atwater saith, that that night the figgs was spoken of they had strangers to supper, and Mris. Godman was at their house, she cutt a sopp and put in pann; Betty Brewster called the maide to tell her & said she was aboute her workes of darkness, and was suspitious of Mris. Godman, and spake to her of it, and that night Betty Brewster was in a most misserable case, heareing a most dreadfull noise wch put her in great feare and trembling, wch put her into such a sweate as she was all on a water when Mary Miles came to goe to bed, who had fallen into a sleepe by the fire wch vsed not to doe, and in ye morning she looked as one yt had bine allmost dead.... "Mris. Godman accused Mr. Goodyeare for calling her downe when Mris. Bishop was in a sore fitt, to looke vpon her, and said he doubted all was not well wth her, and that hee feared she was a witch, but Mr. Goodyeare denyed that; vpon this Mris. Godman was exceeding angrie and would haue the servants called to witnes, and bid George the Scochman goe aske his master who bewitched her for she was not well, and vpon this presently Hanah Lamberton (being in ye roome) fell into a verey sore fitt in a verey strang maner.... "Another time Mris. Goodyeare said to her, Mris. Elzebeth what thinke you of my daughters case; she replyed what, doe you thinke I haue bewitched her; Mris. Goodyeare said if you be the ptie looke to it, for they intend to haue such as is suspected before the magistrate. "Mris. Godman charged Hanah Lamberton that she said she lay for somewhat to sucke her, when she came in hott one day and put of some cloathes and lay vpon the bed in her chamber. Hanah said she and her sister Elizabeth went vp into the garet aboue her roome, and looked downe & said, looke how she lies, she lyes as if som bodey was sucking her, & vpon that she arose and said, yes, yes, so there is; after said Hanah, she hath something there, for so there seemed as if something was vnder the cloathes; Elizabeth said what haue you there, she said nothing but the cloathes, and both Hanah & Eliza. say that Mris. Godman threatened Hanah, and said let her looke to it for God will bring it vpon her owne head, and about two dayes after, Hanahs fitts began, and one night especially had a dreadfull fitt, and was pinched, and heard a hedious noise, and was in a strang manner sweating and burning, and some time cold and full of paine yt she shriked out. "Elizabeth Lamberton saith that one time ye chilldren came downe & said Mris. Godman was talking to herselfe and they were afraide, then she went vp softly and heard her talke, what, will you fetch me some beare, will you goe, will you goe, and ye like, and one morning aboute breake of day Henry Boutele said he heard her talke to herselfe, as if some body had laine wth her.... "Mris. Goodyeare said when Mr. Atwaters kinswoman was married Mris. Bishop was there, and the roome being hott she was something fainte, vpon that Mris. Godman said she would haue many of these fainting fitts after she was married, but she saith she remembers it not.... "Goodwife Thorp complained that Mris. Godman came to her house and asked to buy some chickens, she said she had none to sell, Mris. Godman said will you giue them all, so she went away, and she thought then that if this woman was naught as folkes suspect, may be she will smite my chickens, and quickly after one chicken dyed, and she remembred she had heard if they were bewitched they would consume wthin, and she opened it and it was consumed in ye gisard to water & wormes, and divers others of them droped, and now they are missing and it is likely dead, and she neuer saw either hen or chicken that was so consumed wthin wth wormes. Mris. Godman said goodwife Tichenor had a whole brood so, and Mris. Hooke had some so, but for Mris. Hookes it was contradicted presently. This goodwife Thorp thought good to declare that it may be considered wth other things." The court decided that Elizabeth's carriage and confession rendered her "suspitious" of witchcraft, and admonished her that "if further proofe come these passages will not be forgotten." The further proof came forth promptly, since in August, 1655, Elizabeth was again called before the court for witchcraft, and the witnesses certified to "the doing of strange things." _The Governor's quandary--Elizabeth's "spirituall armour"--"The jumbling at the chamber dore"--The lost grapes--The tethered calfe--"Hott beare"_ "At a court held at Newhaven the 7th of August 1655. "Elizabeth Godman was again called before the Court, and told that she lies under suspition for witchcraft, as she knowes, the grounds of which were examined in a former court, and by herselfe confessed to be just grounds of suspition, wch passages were now read, and to these some more are since added, wch are now to be declared. "Mr. Goodyeare said that the last winter, upon occasion of Gods afflicting hand upon the plantation by sickness, the private meeting whereof he is had appointed to set a day apart to seeke God: Elizabeth Godman desired she might be there; he told her she was under suspition, and it would be offensive; she said she had great need of it, for she was exercised wth many temptations, and saw strange appearitions, and lights aboute her bed, and strange sights wch affrighted her; some of his family said if she was affraide they would worke wth her in the day and lye with her in the night, but she refused and was angry and said she would haue none to be wth her for she had her spirituall armour aboute her. She was asked the reason of this; she answered, she said so to Mr. Goodyeare, but it was her fancy troubled her, and she would haue none lye wth her because her bed was weake; she was told that might haue been mended; then she said she was not willing to haue any of them wth her, for if any thing had fallen ill wth them they would haue said that she had bine the cause." Mr. Goodyeare further declared that aboute three weekes agoe he had a verey great disturbance in his family in the night (Eliza: Godman hauing bine the day before much discontented because Mr. Goodyeare warned her to provide another place to live in) his daughter Sellevant, Hanah Goodyeare, and Desire Lamberton lying together in the chamber under Eliza: Godman; after they were in bed they heard her walke up and downe and talk aloude; but could not tell what she said; then they heard her go downe the staires and come up againe; they fell asleep, but were after awakened wth a great jumbling at the chamber dore, and something came into the chamber wch jumbled at the other end of the roome and aboute the trunke and amonge the shooes and at the beds head; it came nearer the bed and Hanah was affraid and called father, but he heard not, wch made her more affraide; then cloathes were pulled of their bed by something, two or three times; they held and something pulled, wch frighted them so that Hanah Goodyeare called her father so loude as was thought might be heard to the meetinghouse, but the noise was heard to Mr. Samuell Eatons by them that watched wth her; so after a while Mr. Goodyeare came and found them in a great fright; they lighted a candell and he went to Eliza: Godmans chamber and asked her why she disturbed the family; she said no, she was scared also and thought the house had bine on fire, yet the next day she said in the family that she knew nothing till Mr. Goodyeare came up, wch she said is true she heard the noise but knew not the cause till Mr. Goodyeare came; and being asked why she went downe staires after she was gon up to bed, she said to light a candell to looke for two grapes she had lost in the flore and feared the mice would play wth them in the night and disturbe ye family, wch reason in the Courts apprehension renders her more suspitious. Allen Ball informed the Court. Another time she came into his yard; his wife asked what she came for; she said to see her calfe; now they had a sucking calfe, wch they tyed in the lott to a great post that lay on ye ground, and the calfe ran away wth that post as if it had bine a fether and ran amonge Indian corne and pulled up two hills and stood still; after he tyed the calfe to a long heauy raile, as much as he could well lift, and one time she came into ye yard and looked on ye calfe and it set a running and drew the raile after it till it came to a fence and gaue a great cry in a lowing way and stood still; and in ye winter the calfe dyed, doe what he could, yet eate its meale well enough. Some other passages were spoken of aboute Mris. Yale, that one time there being some words betwixt them, wth wch Eliza: Godman was unsatisfyed, the night following Mris. Yales things were throwne aboute the house in a strange manner; and one time being at Goodman Thorpes, aboute weauing some cloth, in wch something discontented her, and that night they had a great noise in the house, wch much affrighted them, but they know not what it was. These things being declared the Court told Elizabeth Godman that they haue considered them, wth her former miscarriages, and see cause to order that she be comitted to prison, ther to abide the Courts pleasure, but because the matter is of weight, and the crime whereof she is suspected capitall, therefore she is to answer it at the Court of Magistrates in October next." In October, 1655, Elizabeth "was again called before the court and told that upon grounds formerly declared wch stand upon record, she by her owne confession remains under suspition for witchcraft, and one more is now added, and that is, that one time this last summer, comeing to Mr. Hookes to beg some beare, was at first denyed, but after, she was offered some by his daughter which stood ready drawne, wch she had, yet went away in a muttering discontented manner, and after this, that night, though the beare was good and fresh, yet the next morning was hott, soure and ill tasted, yea so hott as the barrell was warme wthout side, and when they opened the bung it steemed forth; they brewed againe and it was so also, and so continewed foure or fiue times, one after another. "She brought diuers psons to the court that they might say something to cleere her, and much time was spent in hearing ym, but to little purpose, the grounds of suspition remaining full as strong as before and she found full of lying, wherfore the court declared vnto her that though the euidenc is not sufficient as yet to take away her life, yet the suspitions are cleere and many, wch she cannot by all the meanes she hath vsed, free herselfe from, therfore she must forbeare from goeing from house to house to give offenc, and cary it orderly in the family where she is, wch if she doe not, she will cause the court to comitt her to prison againe, & that she doe now presently vpon her freedom giue securitie for her good behauiour; and she did now before the court ingage fifty pound of her estate that is in Mr. Goodyeers hand, for her good behauior, wch is further to be cleered next court, when Mr. Goodyeare is at home." "She was suffered to dwell in the family of Thomas Johnson, where she continued till her death, October 9th, 1660." (_New Haven Town Records_, Vol. ii, pp. 174,179.) NATHANIEL AND REBECCA GREENSMITH Nathaniel Greensmith lived in Hartford, south of the little river, in 1661-62, on a lot of about twenty acres, with a house and barn. He also had other holdings "neer Podunk," and "on ye highway leading to Farmington." He was thrifty by divergent and economical methods, since he is credited in the records of the time with stealing a bushel and a half of wheat, of stealing a hoe, and of lying to the court, and of battery. In one way or another he accumulated quite a property for those days, since the inventory of it filed in the Hartford Probate Office, January 25, 1662, after his execution, carried an appraisal of £137. l4s. 1_d_.--including "2 bibles," "a sword," "a resthead," and a "drachm cup"--all indicating that Nathaniel judiciously mingled his theology and patriotism, his recreation and refreshment, with his everyday practical affairs and opportunities. But he made one adventure that was most unprofitable. In an evil hour he took to wife Rebecca, relict of Abraham Elson, and also relict of Jarvis Mudge, and of whom so good a man as the Rev. John Whiting, minister of the First Church in Hartford--afterward first pastor of the Second Church--said that she was "a lewd, ignorant and considerably aged woman." This triple combination of personal qualities soon elicited the criticism and animosity of the community, and Nathaniel and Rebecca fell under the most fatal of all suspicions of that day, that of being possessed by the evil one. Gossip and rumor about these unpopular neighbors culminated in a formal complaint, and December 30, 1662, at a court held at Hartford, both the Greensmiths were separately indicted in the same formal charge. "Nathaniel Greensmith thou art here indicted by the name of Nathaniel Greensmith for not having the fear of God before thine eyes, thou hast entertained familiarity with Satan, the grand enemy of God and mankind--and by his help hast acted things in a preternatural way beyond human abilities in a natural course for which according to the law of God and the established law of this commonwealth thou deservest to die." While Rebecca was in prison under suspicion, she was interviewed by two ministers, Revs. Haynes and Whiting, as to the charges of Ann Cole--a next door neighbor--which were written down by them, all of which, and more, she confessed to be true before the court. (Note. Increase Mather regarded this confession as convictive a proof of real witchcraft as most single cases he had known.) THE MINISTERS' ACCOUNT--_Promise to Satan--A merry Christmas meeting--Stone's lecture--Haynes' plea--The dear Devil--The corvine guest--Sexual delusions_ "She forthwith and freely confessed those things to be true, that she (and other persons named in the discourse) had familiarity with the devil. Being asked whether she had made an express covenant with him, she answered she had not, only as she promised to go with him when he called (which she had accordingly done several times). But that the devil told her that at Christmas they would have a merry meeting, and then the covenant should be drawn and subscribed. Thereupon the fore-mentioned Mr. Stone (being then in court) with much weight and earnestness laid forth the exceeding heinousness and hazard of that dreadful sin; and therewith solemnly took notice (upon the occasion given) of the devil's loving Christmas. "A person at the same time present being desired the next day more particularly to enquire of her about her guilt, it was accordingly done, to whom she acknowledged that though when Mr. Haynes began to read she could have torn him in pieces, and was so much resolved as might be to deny her guilt (as she had done before) yet after he had read awhile, she was as if her flesh had been pulled from her bones, (such was her expression,) and so could not deny any longer. She also declared that the devil first appeared to her in the form of a deer or fawn, skipping about her, wherewith she was not much affrighted but by degrees he contrived talk with her; and that their meetings were frequently at such a place, (near her own house;) that some of the company came in one shape and some in another, and one in particular in the shape of a crow came flying to them. Amongst other things she owned that the devil had frequent use of her body." Had Rebecca been content with purging her own conscience, she alone would have met the fate she had invoked, and probably deserved; but out of "love to her husband's soul" she made an accusation against him, which of itself secured his conviction of the same offense, with the same dire penalty. THE ACCUSATION--_Nathaniel's plea--"Travaile and labour"--"A red creature"--- Prenuptial doubts--The weighty logs--Wifely tenderness and anxiety--Under the greenwood tree--A cat call--Terpsichore and Bacchus_ "Rebecca Greenswith testifieth in Court Janry 8. 62. "1. That my husband on Friday night last when I came to prison told me that now thou hast confest against thyself let me alone and say nothing of me and I wilbe good unto thy children. "I doe now testifie that formerly when my husband hathe told me of his great travaile and labour I wondered at it how he did it this he did before I was married and when I was married I asked him how he did it and he answered me he had help yt I knew not of. "3. About three years agoe as I think it; my husband and I were in ye wood several miles from home and were looking for a sow yt we lost and I saw a creature a red creature following my husband and when I came to him I asked him what it was that was with him and he told me it was a fox. "4. Another time when he and I drove or hogs into ye woods beyond ye pound yt was to keep yong cattle severall miles of I went before ye hogs to call them and looking back I saw two creatures like dogs one a little blacker then ye other, they came after my husband pretty close to him and one did seem to me to touch him I asked him wt they were he told me he thought foxes I was stil afraid when I saw anything because I heard soe much of him before I married him. "5. I have seen logs that my husband hath brought home in his cart that I wondered at it that he could get them into ye cart being a man of little body and weake to my apprhension and ye logs were such that I thought two men such as he could not have done it. "I speak all this out of love to my husbands soule and it is much against my will that I am now necessitate to speake agaynst my husband, I desire that ye Lord would open his heart to owne and speak ye trueth. "I also testify that I being in ye wood at a meeting there was wth me Goody Seager Goodwife Sanford & Goodwife Ayres; and at another time there was a meeting under a tree in ye green by or house & there was there James Walkely, Peter Grants wife Goodwife Aires & Henry Palmers wife of Wethersfield, & Goody Seager, & there we danced, & had a bottle of sack: it was in ye night & something like a catt cald me out to ye meeting & I was in Mr. Varlets orcherd wth Mrs. Judeth Varlett & shee tould me that shee was much troubled wth ye Marshall Jonath: Gilbert & cried, & she sayd if it lay in her power she would doe him a mischief, or what hurt shee could." The Greensmiths were convicted and sentenced to suffer death. In January, 1662, they were hung on "Gallows Hill," on the bluff a little north of where Trinity College now stands--"a logical location" one most learned in the traditions and history of Hartford calls it--as it afforded an excellent view of the execution to a large crowd on the meadows to the west, a hanging being then a popular spectacle and entertainment. CHAPTER IX "They shall no more be considered guilty than this woman, whom I now pronounce to be innocent, and command that she be set at liberty." LORD CHIEF JUSTICE MANSFIELD. ELIZABETH (CLAUSON) CLAWSON THE INDICTMENT "Elizabeth Clawson wife of Stephen Clawson of Standford in the country of Fayrefeild in the Colony of Connecticutt thou art here indicted by the name of Elizabeth Clawson that not haueing the fear of God before thine eyes thou hast had familiarity with Satan the grand enemie of God & man & that by his instigation & help thou hast in a pretematurall way afflicted & done harm to the bodyes & estates of sundry of his Maties subjects or to some of them contrary to the peace of or Soueraigne Lord the King & Queen their crowne & dignity & that on the 25t of Aprill in the 4th yeare of theire Maties reigne & at sundry other times for which by the law of God & the law of the Colony thou deseruest to dye." THE TESTIMONIES JOSEPH GARNEY--_The maid in fits--Joseph's subterfuge--""The black catt"--"The white dogg"--Witches three_ "Joseph Garney saith yt being at Danil Wescots uppon occation sine he went to Hartford while he was gone from home Nathanill Wiat being with me his maid being at work in the yard in her right mind soon after fell into a fit. I took her up and caried her in & laid her upon the bed it was intimated by sum that she desembled. Nathanel Wiat said with leaue he would make triall of that leaue was granted and as soon as she was laid upon ye bed then Wiat asked me for a sharp knife wch I presently took into my hand then she imediately came to herself and then went out of ye room into ye other room & so out into ye hen house then I hard her presently shreek out I ran presently to her and asked her what is ye matter, she was in such pain she could not Hue & presently fell into a fit stiff. We carried her in and laid her upon ye bed and then I got my kniffe ready and fitting under pretence of doing sum great matter then presently she came to herselfe & said to me Joseph what are you about to doe I said I would cutt her & seemed to threten great matters, then she laid her down upon the bed & said she would confess to us how it was with her and then said I am possessed with ye deuill and he apeared to me in ye hen house in ye shape of a black catt & was ernist with her to be a witch & if she would not he would tear her in pieces, then she again shreekt out now saith shee I see him & lookt wistly & said there he is just at this time to my apearance there seemed to dart in at ye west window a sudden light across ye room wch did startle and amase me at yt present, then she tould me yt she see ye deuill in ye shape of a white dogg, she tould me that ye deuill apeared in ye shape of these three women namly goody Clawson, goody Miller, & ye woman at Compo. [Disborough] I asked her how she knew yt it was ye deuill that appeared in ye shape of these three women she answered he tould me so. I asked her if she knew that these three women were witches or no she said she could not tell they might be honest women for ought she knew or they might be witches." Sarah Kecham--_Cateron's seizures--Riding and singing--English and French--The naked sword_ The testimony of Sarah Kecham. "She saith yt being at Danel Wescots house Thomas Asten being there Cateron Branch being there in a fit as they said I asked then how she was they sayth she hath had noe fits she had bine a riding then I asked her to ride and then she got to riding. I asked her if her hors had any name & she called out & said Jack; I then asked her to sing & then she sunge; I asked her yt if she had sung wt Inglish she could then sing French and then she sung that wch they called French. Thomas Astin said he knew that she was bewitched I tould him I did not beleue it, for I said I did not beleue there was any witch in the town, he said he knew she was for said he I haue hard say that if a person were bewitched take a naked sword and hould ouer them & they will laugh themselues to death & with yt he took a sword and held ouer her and she laughed extremely. Then I spoke sumthing whereby I gaue them to understand that she did so becase she knew of ye sword, whereupon Danil made a sine to Thomas Austen to hould ye sword again yt she might not know of it, wch he did & then she did not laugh at all nor chang her countenance. Further in discourse I hard Daniel Wescot say yt when he pleased he could take her out of her fits. John Bates junr being present at ye same time witnesseth to all ye aboue written. "Ye testers are redy to giue oath to ye aboue written testimony when called therunto. "Staford ye 7th Septembr 1692." ABIGAIL CROSS AND NATHANIEL CROSS--_The "garles desembling"--Daniel Wescot's wager--The trick that nobody else could do_ (Kateran Branch, the accuser of the Fairfield women, was a young servant in Daniel Wescot's household.) "The testimony of Abigail Cross as followith that upon sum discourse with Danil Wescot about his garles desembling sd Daniel sd that he would venture both his cows against a calfe yt she should doe a trick tomorrow morning that no body else could doe. sd Abigail sd to morrow morning, can you make her do it when you will; & he said yess when I will I can make her do it. "Nathaneel Cross being present at ye same time testifieth ye same with his wife. "The above testers say they are redy to giue oath to ye aboue written testimony when called to it." SARAH BATES--_An effective remedy for fits--Burnt feathers--Blood letting--The result_ "The testimony of Mrs. Sarah Bates she saith yt when first ye garl was taken with strang fits she was sent for to Danil Wescots house & she found ye garle lieing upon ye bed. She then did apprehend yt the garls illness might be from sum naturall cause; she therefore aduised them to burn feathers under her nose & other menes yt had dun good in fainting fits and then she seemed to be better with it; and so she left her that night in hops to here she wold be better ye next morning; but in ye morning Danil Wescot came for her againe and when she came she found ye garl in bed seemingly senceless & spechless; her eyes half shet but her pulse seemed to beat after ye ordinary maner her mistres desired she might be let blud on ye foot in hops it might do her good. Then I said I thought it could not be dun in ye capassity she was in but she desired a triall to be made and when euerything was redy & we were agoing to let her blud ye garl cried; the reson was asked her why she cried; her answer was she would not be bluded; we asked her why; she said again because it would hurt her it was said ye hurt would be but small like a prick of a pin then she put her foot ouer ye bed and was redy to help about it; this cariag of her seemed to me strang who before seemed to ly like a dead creature; after she was bluded and had laid a short time she clapt her hand upon ye couerlid & cried out; and on of ye garls yt stood by said mother she cried out; and her mistres was so afected with it yt she cried and said she is bewitched. Upon this ye garl turned her head from ye folk as if she wold hide it in ye pillar & laughed." The above written Sarah Bates appeared before me in Stamford this 13th Septembr 1692 & made oath to the above written testimony. Before me Jonat, Bell Comissr." Daniel Wescot--_Exchanging yarn--"A quarrill"--The child's nightmare_ "The testimony of Daniel Wescote saith that some years since my wife & Goodwife Clauson agreed to change their spinning, & instead of half a pound Goodwife Clawson sent three quarters of a pound I haueing waide it, carried it to her house & cnvinced her of it yt it was so, & thence forward she till now took occation upon any frivolous matter to be angry & pick a quarrill with booth myself & wife, & some short time after this earning ye flex, my eldest daughter Johannah was taken suddenly in ye night shrecking& crying out, There is a thing will catch me, uppon which I got up & lit a candle, & tould her there was nothing, she answerd, yees there was, there tis, pointing with her finger sometimes to one place & sometimes to another, & then sd tis run under the pillow. I askd her wr it was, she sd a sow, & in a like manner continued disturbd a nights abought ye space of three weeks, insomuch yt we ware forcd to carry her abroad sometimes into my yard or lot, but for ye most part to my next neighbours house, to undress her & get her to sleep, & continually wn she was disturbd shed cry out theres my thing come for me, whereuppon some neighbours advisd to a removal of her, & having removd her to Fairfeild it left her, & since yt hath not been disturbd in like manner." "The aboue testimony of Daniell Wesocott now read to the wife of sayd Daniell Shee testifys to the whole verbatum & hath now giuen oath to the same before us in Standford, Septembr 12th 1692. "JONATN SELLECK Comissr "JONOTHAN BELL Commissionr. "Sworn in Court Septr 15 1692 "As attests John Allyn Secry." ABIGAIL WESCOT--_Throwing stones--Railing--Twitting of "fine cloths"_ "Abigal Wescot further saith that as she was going along the street Goody Clauson came out to her and they had some words together and Goody Clauson took up stone and threw at her; and at another time as she went along the street before said Clausons dore Goody Clauson caled to me and asked me what I did in my chamber last Sabbath day night, and I doe affirme that I was not their that night; and at another time as I was in her sone Stephens house being neer her one house shee followed me in and contended with me becase I did not com into her house caling of me proud slut what ear you proud on your fine cloths and you look to be mistres but you never shal by me and seuerall other prouoking speeches at that time and at another time as I was by her house she contended and quareled with me; and we had many words together and shee twited me of my fine cloths and of my mufe and also contended with me several other times. "Taken upon oath before us Standford Septemr 12th "JONATN SELLECK Comissionr "JONOTHAN BELL Comissr." ABRAHAM FINCH--_The strange light--"Two pry eies"--Cause of the "pricking"_ "Abraham Finch jun aged about 26 years. "The deponant saith that hee being a waching at with ye French girle at Daniell Wescoat house in the night I being laid on the bed the girle fell into a fite and fell crose my feet and then I looking up I sawe a light abut the bignes of my too hands glance along the sommer of the house to the harth ward, and afterwards I sawe it noe mor; and when Dauid Selleck brought a light into the room a littell space after the French garle cam to hirselfe againe. Wee ascked hir whie shee skreemed out when shee fell into her fit. Shee answered goodie Clawson cam in with two firy eies. "Furdermore the deponant saith that Dauid Selleck was that same night with him and being laid downe on the bed me nie the garle and I laye by the bed sid on the chest and Dauid Selleck starte up suddenly and I asked wt was ye matter with him and hee answered shee pricked mee and the French garle answered noe shee did not it was goodie Crump and then shee put her hand ouer the bed sid and said give mee that thing that you pricked Mr. Selleck with and I cached hold of her hand and found a pin in it and I took it away from her. The deponant saith that when the garl put her hand ouer the bed it was open and he looked very well in her hand and cold see nothing and before shee puled in her hand again shee had goten yt pin yt hee took from her. "This aboue written testor is redy when called to giue oath to the aboue written testimony." EBENEZER BISHOP--_Kateran calls for somersaults--Fits and spots_ "Ebenezer Bishop aged about 26 years saith on night being at Danill Wescots house Catern Branch being in on of her fits I sate doen by ye bed side next to her she then calling ernestly upon goody Clason goody Clason seueral times now goody Clason turn heels ouer head after this she had a violent fit and calling again said now they are agoing to kill me & crieing out very loud that they pincht her on ye neck and calling out yt they pincht her again I setting by her I took ye light and look upon her neck & I see a spot look red seeming to me as big as a pece of eight afterwards it turned blue & blacker then any other part of her skin and after ye second time of her calling I took ye light & looked again and she pointed with her hand lower upon her shoulder and I se another place upon her shoulder look red & blue as I saw upon the other place before and then after yt she had another fit. "Stamford 29th August 1692 this aboue written testor is redy when called to giue oath to ye aboue written testimony. "Hannah Knapp testifieth the same to the above written and further adeth that shee saw scraches upon her; and is redy to give oth to it if called to it. "Both the above sworn in Court Septr 15 1692. Attests John Allyn, Secry." SAMUEL HOLLY--_Singular physiological transformations_ "The testimony of Samuel Holly senour aged aboute fifty years saith that hee being at ye house of Danell Wescot in ye euning I did see his maid Cattern Branch in her fit that shee did swell in her brests (as shee lay on her bed) and they rise as lik bladers and suddenly pased in to her bely, and in a short time returned to her brest and in a short time her breasts fell and a great ratling in her throat as if shee would haue been choked; All this I judge beyond nature. "Danil Wescot testifieth to ye same aboue written and further addith yt when she was in those fits ratling in her throat she would put out her tong to a great extent I consieue beyond nature & I put her tong into her mouth again & then I looked in her mouth & could se no tong but as if it were a lump of flesh down her throat and this ofen times. "The testors, as concerned are ready to giue oath to the above written testimony if called thereunto. "Staford 29 April 1692 "Sworn in Court Septr 15 1692. "Attests JOHN ALLYN, Seer." "The testimony of Daniell Westcot aged about forty nine years saith that som time this spring since his maid Catton Branch had fits and with many other strange actions in her, I see her as shee lay on the bed at her length in her fit, and at once sprang up to the chamber flore withouts the helpe of her hands or feete; thats neere six feet and I judge it beyond nator for any person so to doe. "Sworn in Court Sept 15 1692. "Attests JOHN ALLYN Secry." _Inquiry and search--Visions of the young accuser--The talking cat--The spread table--The strange woman--"Silk hood and blew apron"--"2 firebrands in her forehead"--"A turn at heels ouer head"_ "Stamford May ye 27th, 1692. "Uppon ye information & sorrowfull complainte of Sergeant Daniel Wescot in regard of his maide servant Katherine Branch whome he suspects to be afflicted of witchcraft, under wch sore affliction she hath now labourd upwards of five weeks, & in that lamentable state yeat remains. In order to inquiry & search into (the) matter were then psent Major Nathan Golde, Capt. John Burr, Capt. Jonothan Selleck, Lieutenant Jonothan Bell. "The manner of her being taken & handled. "Being in ye feilds gathering of herbs, she was seizd with a pinching & pricking at her breast; she being come home fell a crying, was askd ye reason, gave no answer but wept & immediately fell down on ye flooer wth her hands claspt, & with like actions continued wth some respite at times ye space of two days, then sd she saw a cat, was asked what ye cat sd she answerd ye cat askd her to [go] with her, with a promise of fine things & yt if she should goe where there ware fine folks; & still was followed wth like fits, seeming to be much tormented, being askd again what she saw sd cats, & yt they toulde her they woulde kill her, & wth this menaceing disquieted her severall dayes; after yt she saw in ye roome where she lay a table spread wth variety of meats, & they askd her to eat & at ye table she saw tenn eating, this she positively affirmd when in her right minde, after this was exceeding much tormentted, her master askd her what was ye matter, because she as she sd in her fit run to sundry places to abscoude herselfe, she toulde him twas because she saw a cat coming to her wth a rat, to fling in her face, after yt she sd they toulde her they woulde kill her because she tould of it. These sort of actions continued about 13 days, & then was extremely afflicted with fits in ye night, to ye number of about 40ty crying out a witch, a witch, her master runing to her askd her what was ye matter she sd she felt a hand. Ye next week she saw as she sd a woman stand in ye house having on a silk hood & a blew apron, after that in ye evening being well composd going out of dooers run in again & caught her master abought ye middle, he askd her ye reason, she sd yt she meet an olde woman at ye dooer, with 2 firebrands in her forehead, he askd her what kinde of clooths she had on, answered she had two homespun coats, one tuct up rounde her ye other down. The next day she namd a person calling her goody Clauson, & sd there she is sitting on a reel, & again sd she saw her sit on ye pommel of a chair, saying Ime sure you are a witch, elce you coulde not sit so & sd she saw this person before namd at times for a week together. One time she sd she saw her and describd her whole attire, her [master]? went immediately & saw ye woman namd exactly atird as she was describd of ye person afflicted. Again she sd in her fits Goody Clauson lets haue a turn at heels ouer head, withall saying shall you goe first, or shall I. Weel sd she if I do first you shall after, & wth yt she turnd ouer two or three times heels ouer head, & so lay down, saying come if you will not Ile beat your head & ye wall together & haueing ended these words she goot up looking aboute ye house, & sd look shes gone, & so fell into a fit." LIDIA PENOIR--_"A lying gairl"_ "The testimony of Lidia Penoir. Shee saith that shee heard her ant Abigal Wescot say that her seruant gairl Catern Branch was such a lying gairl that not any boddy could belieue one word what shee said and saith that shee heard her ant Abigail Wescot say that shee did not belieue that Mearcy nor goody Miller nor Hannah nor any of these women whome shee had apeacht was any more witches then shee was and that her husband would belieue Catern before he would belieue Mr. Bishop or Leiftenat Bell or herself. "The testor is ready to giue oath to sd testimony. Standford, Augt 24th 1692." ELEZER SLAWSON--"_A woman for pease"--A good word_ "The testimony of Elezer Slawson aged 51 year. "He saith yt he liued neare neighbour, to goodwife Clawson many years & did allways observe her to be a woman for pease and to counsell for pease & when she hath had prouacations from her neighbours would answer & say we must liue in pease for we are naibours & would neuer to my obseruation giue threatning words nor did I look at her as one giuen to malice; & further saith not "ELEAZAR SLASON. "CLEMENT BUXSTUM. "The above written subscribers declared the aboue written & signed it with their own hands before me "JONOTHAN BELL Comissionr." In closing the citations of testimony in the Clawson case, other performances of Catherine Branch, the maid servant of Daniel and Abigail Wescot, are given to emphasize the absurdities which found credence in the community and brought several women to the bar of justice, to answer to the charge of a capital offense. _An epileptic fit--Muscular contortions--"Talkeing to the appearances"--"Hell fyre to all eternity"--A creature "with a great head & wings & noe boddy & all black"--Songs and tunes--Secular and scriptural recitations--" The lock of hayer"_ "June 28th 1692. "Sergt Daniell Wescott brought his Mayd Katheren Branch to my house to be examined, which was dune as is within mentioned, & the sd Katheren Branch being dismised was gott about 40 or 50 rodd from my house, my Indian girl runeing back sayinge sd Kate was falen downe & looked black in the face soe my sonn John Selleck & cousen Dauid Selleck went out & fecht her in, shee being in a stife fitt--& comeing out of that fitt fell a schrickeing, crying out you kill me, Goody Clawson you kill me, two or three times shee spoke it & her head was bent downe backwards allmost to her back; & sometimes her arme would be twisted round the sd Kate cryeing out you break my arme & with many such fitts following, that two men could hardly prevent by all their strenth the breaking of her neck & arme, as was thought by all the standers by; & in this maner sd Kate continued all the night, & neuer came to her sences but had som litell respitt betweene those terible fitts & then sd Kate would be talkeing to the appearances & would answer them & ask questions of them to manny to be here inserted or remembered. They askt her to be as they were & then shee should be well & we herd sd Kate saye I will not yeald to you for you are wiches & yor portion is hell fyre to all eternity & many such like expressions shee had; telling them that Mr. Bishop had often tould her that shee must not yield to them, & that that daye Norwalk minister tould her the same therefore she sayd I hope God will keep me from yielding to you; sd Kate sayd Goody Clawson why doe you torment me soe; I neuer did you any harme neather in word nor acction; sayeing why are you all come now to afflict me. Katherine tould their names, saying Goody Clawson, Mercy Disbrow, Goody Miller, & a woman & a gail, five of you. Then she sd Kate spoke to the gail whom she caled Sarah, & sayd is Sarah Staples your right name; I am aferd you tell me a lye; tell me your rite name; & soe uged it much; & then stoped & sayd, tell; yeas I must tell my master & Capt. Selleck if they aske me but Ile tell noe body els. Soe at last sd Kate sayd, Hanah Haruy once or twice out is that your name why then did you tell me a lye before; Well then sayd Kate what is the womans name that comes with you; & soe stoped & then sayd tell yeas I must tell my master & Capt. Selleok if he askes me, but Ile tell noeboddy els, & sayd you will not tell me then I will ask Goody Crumpe;& she sd Gody Crump what is the woemans name yt comes with Hanah Haruy; & so urged severall times, a then sd Marry Mary what, & then Mary Haruy; well sayd Kate is Mary Haruy ye mother of Hanah Haruy; & then sayd now I know it seeming to reioyce, & saying Hanah why did you not tell me before, sayeing their was more catts come at first & I shall know all your names; & Kate sayd what creature is that with a great head & wings & noe boddy & all black, sayeing Hanah is that your father; I believe it is for you are a wich; & sd Kate sayd Hanah what is yor fathers name; & have you noe grandfather & grandmother; how come you to be a witch & then stoped, & sd again a grandmother what is her name & then stoped, & sd Goody Staples what is her maiden name & then again fell into terrible fits which much affrighted the standers by, which were many pesons to behould & here what was sd & dune by Kate. Shee fell into a fitt singeing songes & then tunes as Kate sd giges for them to daunce by each takeing their turns; then sd Kate rehersed a great many verses, which are in some primers, & allsoe ye dialoge between Christ ye yoong man & the dieull, the Lords prayer, all the comand-ments & catechism, the creede & severall such good things, & then sayd, Hanah I will say noe more; let me here you, & sayd why doe I say these things; you doe not loue them & a great deale more she sayd which I cannot well remember but what is aboue & on ye other syde was herd and seene by myselfe & others as I've attest to it. "Jonahn Selleck Commissioner." "To add one thing more to my relation as is within of what I saw & herd, is that som persons atempted to cutt of a lock of the sd Kates hayer, when shee was in her fitts but could not doe it, for allthough she knew not what was sayd & dune by them, & let them come neuer soe priuately behynd her to doe it yeat shee would at once turne about and preuent it; At last Dauid Waterbery tooks her in his armes to hould her by force; that a lock of hayer might be cutt; but though at other times a weake & light gail yeat shee was then soe stronge & soe extreame heauy that he could not deale with her, not her hayer could not be cutt; & Kate cryeing out biterly, as if shee had bin beaten all ye time. When sd Kate come to herself, was askt if she was wileing her hayer should be cutt; shee answered yeas--we might cutt all of it we would." Elizabeth Clawson was found not guilty. HUGH (CROSIA, CROSHER) CROHSAW A court of Assistants holden at Hartford, May 8th, 1693. Present. Robert Treat, Esq. Governor William Joanes, Esq. Dept. Govr. Samuel Willis, Esq. \ William Pitkin, Esq. | Col. John Allyn | } Assistants Nath. Stanly, Esq. | Caleb Stanly, Esq. | Moses Mansfield, Esq. / Gent. of the Jury are: Joseph Bull, Nathaneal Loomis, Joseph Wadsworth, Nathanael Bowman, Jonathan Ashley, Stephen Chester, Daniel Heyden, Samuell Newell, Abraham Phelps, Joseph North, John Stoughton, Thomas Ward. And the names of the Grand Jury are: Bartholomew Barnard, Joseph Mygatt, William Williams, John Marsh, John Pantry, Joseph Langton, William Gibbons, Stephen Kelsey, Cornelious Gillett, Samuel Collins, James Steele, Jonathan Loomis. * * * * * THE INDICTMENT "Hugh Crotia, Thou Standest here presented by the Name of Hugh Crotia of Stratford in the Colony of Connecticutt, in New England; for that not haveing the fear of God before thine Eyes, through the Instigation of the Devill, thou hast forsaken thy God, & covenanted with the Devill, and by his help hast in a preternaturall way afflicted the bodys of Sundry of his Majestie's good subjects, for which according to the Law of God, and the Law of this Colony, thou deservest to dye." _The arrest--Satan the accessory--An alibi--The confession--A contract to serve the devil_ "Fayrfield this 15 Novembor 1692 acording as is Informed that hugh Crosia is complained of by a gerll at Stratford for aflicting her and hee being met on ye road going westward from fayrfeild hee being met by Joseph Stirg and danill bets of norwak and being brought back by them to athority in fayrfeild and on thare report to sd authority of sum confesion sd Croshaw mad of such things as rendar him undar suspecion of familiarity with satan sd Crosha being asked whethar he sayd he sent ye deuell to hold downe Eben Booths gerll ye gerll above intended hee answared hee did say so but hee was not thar himself hee answereth he lyed when he sayd he sent ye deuell as above. "Sd hugh beeing asked whethar hee did not say hee had made a Contract with ye deuell five years senc with his heart and signed to ye deuells book and then seald it with his bloud which Contract was to serve ye deuell and the deuell to serve him he saith he did say so and sayd he ded so and wret his name and sealed ye Contract with his bloud and that he had ever since been practising Eivel against every man: hee also sayd ye deuell opned ye dore of eben booths hous made it fly open and ye gate fly open being asked how he could tell he sayd he deuell apeered to him like a boye and told him hee ded make them fly open and then ye boye went out of his sight. "This examination taken and Confessed before authority in fairefeild before Us Testis the date above "Jon. Bur, Assist "Nathan Gold, Asist." "The Grand Jury upon consideration of this Case re-turnd, Ignoramus.... "This Court do grant to the said Hugh Crotia A Gaol Delivery, he paying the Master of the Gaol his just fees and dues upon his release and also all the Charge laid out on him at Fairfield, & in bringing him to prison. ELIZABETH GARLICK In 1657, when Easthampton, Long Island, was within the jurisdiction of New York, becoming a few months later a part of Connecticut, two persons came over from Gardiner's Island and settled in the colony, Joshua Garlick and Elizabeth his wife--whilom servants of the famous engineer and colonist Lion Gardiner. Stories of Elizabeth's practice of witchcraft and other black arts followed her, and despite her attendance at church she fell under suspicion, and was arrested, and held by the magistrates for trial after hearing various witnesses. Credulity offers no better illustrations than those which fell from the lips of some of the witnesses in this case. _Tuning a psalm--A black thing--A double tongued woman--A doleful noise--Burning the herbs--The sick child--Gardiner's ox--The dead ram--Burning "the sow's tale"_ Goodwife Howell, during her illness which hastened Elizabeth's arrest, "tuned a psalm and screked out several times together very grievously," and cried "a witch! a witch! now are you come to torter me because I spoke two or three words against you," and also said, she saw a black thing at the beds featte, that Garlick was double-tongued, pinched her with pins, and stood by the bed ready to tear her in pieces. And William Russell, in a fit of insomnia or indigestion, before daybreak, "heard a very doleful noyse on ye backside of ye fire, like ye noyse of a great stone thrown down among a heap of stones." Goody Birdsall "declared y't she was in the house of Goody Simons when Goody Bishop came into the house with ye dockweed and between Goody Davis and Goody Simons they burned the herbs. Farther, she said y't formerly dressing flax at Goody Davis's house, Goody Davis saith y't she had dressed her children in clean linen at the island, and Goody Garlick came in and said, 'How pretty the child doth look,' and so soon as she had spoken Goody Garlick said, 'the child is not well, for it groaneth,' and Goody Davis said her heart did rise, and Goody Davis said, when she took the child from Goody Garlick, she said she saw death in the face of it, & her child sickened presently upon it, and lay five daies and 5 nights and never opened the eyes nor dried till it died. Also she saith as she dothe remember Goody Davis told her upon some difference between Mr. Gardiner or some of his family, Goodman Garlick gave out some threateningse speeches, & suddenly after Mr. Gardiner had an ox legge broke upon Ram Island. Moreover Goody Davis said that Goody Garlick was a naughtie woman." Goody Edwards testified: "Y't as Goody Garlick owned, she sent to her daughter for a little best milk and she had some and presently after, her daughters milk went away as she thought and as she remembers the child sickened about y't time." Goody Hand deposed that "she had heard Goody Davis say that she hoped Goody Garlick would not come to Eastharapton, because, she said, Goody Garlick was naughty, and there had many sad things befallen y'm at the Island, as about ye child, and ye ox, as Goody Birdsall have declared, as also the negro child she said was taken away, as I understood by her words, in a strange manner, and also of a ram y't was dead, and this fell out quickly one after another, and also of a sow y't was fat and lustie and died. She said they did burn some of the sow's tale and presently Goody Garlick did come in." The settlers held a town meeting, and wisely questioning whether they had legal authority to hold a trial in a capital case, they appointed a committee to go "unto Keniticut to carry up Goodwife Garlick yt she may be delivered up unto the authoritie there for the trial of the cause of witchcraft which she is suspected for." The General Court of Connecticut took jurisdiction of the case, a trial of Goody Garlick was held, resulting in her acquittal, and she was sent back to Easthampton, to what end is not told in the records of the day. CHAPTER X "This case is one of the most painful in the entire Connecticut list, for she impresses one as the best woman; how the just and high minded old lady had excited hate or suspicion, we cannot know." _Connecticut as a Colony_ (1: 212), MORGAN. "Mr. Dauenport gaue in as followeth--That Mr. Ludlow sitting with him and his wife alone, and discoursing of the passages concerning Knapps wife, the Witch and her execution, said that she came downe from the ladder (as he understood it), and desired to speak with him alone, and told him who was the witch spoken of." _New Haven Colonial Record_ (2: 78). "Shortly after this, a poor simple minded woman living in Fairfield, by the name of Knap, was suspected of witchcraft. She was tried, condemned and sentenced to be hanged." SCHENCK'S _History of Fairfield_ (1: 71). "GOODWIFE KNAP" This was one of the most notable of the witchcraft cases. It stands among the early instances of the infliction of the death penalty in Connecticut; the victim was presumably a woman of good repute, and not a common scold, an outcast, or a harridan; it is singularly illustrative of witchcraft's activities and their grasp on the lives of the best men and women, of the beliefs that ruled the community, and of the crude and revolting practices resorted to in the punishments of the condemned, and especially since in its later developments it involved in controversy and litigation two of the great characters in colonial history, Rev. John Davenport, one of the founders of New Haven, and Roger Ludlow, Deputy Governor of Massachusetts and Connecticut.[I] Goodwife Knapp of Fairfield was "suspicioned." That was enough to set the villagers agog with talk and gossip and scandal about the unfortunate woman, which poisoned the wells of sober thought and charitable purpose, and swiftly ripened into a formal accusation and indictment. [Footnote I: Connecticut, through its Commission of Sculpture, in recognition of his services to the Colony, is to erect a memorial statue to Ludlow to occupy the western niche on the northern facade of the Capitol building at Hartford.] Pending her trial the prisoner was committed to the house of correction or common jail for the safe keeping of "refractory persons" and criminals. What terrors of mind and spirit must have waited on this "simple minded" woman, in the cold, gloomy, and comfortless prison, probably built of rough logs, with a single barred window and massive iron studded door, a ghost haunted torture chamber, in charge of some harsh wardsmen. Knapp was duly and truly tried, and sentenced to death by hanging, the usual mode of execution. _No witch was ever burned in New England._ From the day sentence was pronounced until the hanging took place, out in Try's field beyond the Indian field, in view of the villagers, whose curiosity or thirst for horrors or whose duty led them there, this prisoner of delusion was made the object of rudest treatment, espionage, and of inhuman attempts to wring from her lips a confession of her own guilt or an accusation against some other person as a witch. The very day of her condemnation, a self-constituted committee of women, with one man on it,--Mistress Thomas Sherwood, Goodwife Odell, Mistress Pell, and her two daughters, Goody Lockwood, and Goodwife Purdy,--visited the prison, and pressed her to name any other witch in town, and so receive such consolation from the minister as would be for her soul's welfare. Mistress Pell seems to have been the chief spokeswoman, and each member of the committee served in some degree as an inquisitor, or exhorter, not to repentance, but to disclosures. Baited and badgered, warned and threatened, the hapless prisoner protested she was innocent, denied the charges made against her, told one of the committee to "take heed the devile have not you," and also said, "I must not render evil for evil.... I have sins enough allready, and I will not add this [accusing another] to my condemnation." And at last in agony of soul she made that pathetic appeal to one of her relentless tormentors, "neuer, neuer poore creature was tempted as I am tempted, pray, pray for me." But even after death on the scaffold, the witch-hunters of the day did not refrain from their ghoulish work, but desecrated the remains of Goodwife Knapp at the grave side in their search for witch marks. All the facts during the imprisonment, execution and burial are set forth in some of the testimonies herewith given, in a chapter of related history (the evidence at the trial not being disclosed in any present record), and all of them marked by a total unconsciousness of their sinister and revolting character. No case in the history of the delusion in New England is more replete in incidents and apt illustrations, due to their fortunate preservation in the records of a lawsuit involving some of the prominent characters in that drama of religious insanity. At a magistrate's court held at New Haven the 29th of May, 1654. Present. Theophilus Eaton Esqr, Gouernor. Mr. Stephen Goodyeare, Dept, Gouernor. Francis Newman \ Mr. William Fowler } Magistrats Mr. William Leete / a suit was heard entitled-- Thomas Staplies of Fairfield, plant'. Mr Rogger Ludlow late of Fairfield, defendt. It was brought by an aggrieved husband to recover damages for defamation of the character of his wife. It centered in one of the dramatic incidents at Knapp's execution. In the last extremity, and in the presence of immediate death, the prisoner came down from the ladder, and asking to speak with Ludlow alone, told him that Goodwife Staplies was a witch. Some time afterward Ludlow, at New Haven, told the Rev. John Davenport and his wife the story, in confidence, and under the promise of secrecy, but it spread abroad with inevitable accretions, and when it reached Fairfield Thomas Staplies went to law, to vindicate his wife's character in pounds, shillings, and pence. These are some of the statements and remarkable testimonies: _Attorney Banke's declaration--Ensigne Bryan's answer--Davenport's view of an oath, Hebrews vi,16--His account and conscientious scruples--Mistress Davenport's forgetfulness--"A tract of lying"--"Indian gods"--Luce Pell and Hester Ward's visit to the prison--The "search" of Knapp--"Witches teates"--Feminine resemblances--Matronly opinions--Post-mortem evidence-- Contradictions--Knapp's ordeal--"Fished wthall in private"--Her denials-- Talk on the road to the "gallowes"_ "John Bankes, atturny for Thomas Staplies, declared, that Mr. Ludlow had defamed Thomas Staplies wife, in reporting to Mr. Dauenport and Mris. Dauenport that she had laid herselfe vnder a new suspition of being a witch, that she had caused Knapps wife to be new searched after she was hanged, and when she saw the teates, said if they were the markes of a witch, then she was one, or she had such markes; secondly, Mr. Ludlow said Knapps wife told him that goodwife Staplies was a witch; thirdly, that Mr. Ludlow hath slandered goodwife Staplies in saying that she made a trade of lying, or went on in a tract of lying, &c. "Ensigne Bryan, atturny for Mr. Ludlow, desired the charge might bee proued, wch accordingly the plant' did, and first an attestation vnder Master Dauenports hand, conteyning the testimony of Master and Mistris Dauenport, was presented and read; but the defendant desired what was testified and accepted for proofe might be vpon oath, vpon wch Mr. Dauenport gaue in as followeth, That he hoped the former attestation hee wrott and sent to the court, being compared wth Mr. Ludlowes letter, and Mr. Dauenports answer, would haue satisfyed concerning the truth of the pticulars wthout his oath, but seeing Mr. Ludlowes atturny will not be so satisfyed, and therefore the court requires his oath, and yt he lookes at an oath, in a case of necessitie, for confirmation of truth, to end strife among men, as an ordinance of God, according to Heb: 6,16, hee therevpon declares as followeth, "That Mr. Ludlow, sitting wth him & his wife alone, and discoursing of the passages concerning Knapps wife the witch, and her execution, said that she came downe from the ladder, (as he vnderstood it,) and desired to speake wth him alone, and told him who was the witch spoken of; and so fair as he remembers, he or his wife asked him who it was; he said she named goodwife Stapleies; Mr. Dauenport replyed that hee beleeued it was vtterly vntrue and spoken out of malice, or to that purpose; Mr. Ludlow answered that he hoped better of her, but said she was a foolish woman, and then told them a further storey, how she tumbled the corpes of the witch vp & downe after her death, before sundrie women, and spake to this effect, if these be the markes of a witch I am one, or I haue such markes. Mr. Dauenport vtterly disliked the speech, not haueing heard anything from others in that pticular, either for her or against her, and supposing Mr. Ludlow spake it vpon such intelligenc as satisfyed him; and whereas Mr. Ludlow saith he required and they promised secrecy, he doth not remember that either he required or they pmised it, and he doth rather beleeue the contrary, both because he told them that some did ouerheare what the witch said to him, and either had or would spread it abroad, and because he is carefull not to make vnlawfull promises, and when he hath made a lawfull promise he is, through the help of Christ, carefull to keepe it. "Mris. Dauenport saith, that Mr. Ludlow being at their house, and speakeing aboute the execution of Knapps wife, (he being free in his speech,) was telling seuerall passages of her, and to the best of her remembrance said that Knapps wife came downe from the ladder to speake wth him, and told him that goodwife Staplyes was a witch, and that Mr. Daueport replyed something on behalfe of goodwife Staplies, but the words she remembers not; and something Mr. Ludlow spake, as some did or might ouer-heare what she said to him, or words to that effect, and that she tumbled the dead body of Knapps wife vp & downe and spake words to this purpose, that if these be the markes of a witch she was one, or had such markes; and concerning any promise of secrecy she remembers not." "Mr. Dauenport and Mris. Dauenport affirmed ypon oath, that the testimonies before written, as they properly belong to each, is the truth, according to their best knowledg & memory. "Mr. Dauenport desired that in takeing his oath to be thus vnderstood, that as he takes his oath to giue satisfaction to the court and Mr. Ludlowes atturny, in the matters attested betwixt M' Ludlow & Thomas Staplies, so he lymits his oath onely to that pt and not to ye preface or conclusion, they being no pt of the attestation and so his oath not required in them. "To the latter pt of the declaration, the plant' pduced ye proofe following, "Goodwif Sherwood of Fairfeild affirmeth vpon oath, that vpon some debate betwixt Mr. Ludlow and goodwife Staplies, she heard M' Ludlow charge goodwif Staplies wth a tract of lying, and that in discourse she had heard him so charge her seuerall times. "John Tompson of Fairfeild testifyeth vpon oath, that in discourse he hath heard Mr. Ludlow express himselfe more then once that goodwife Staplies went on in a tract of lying, and when goodwife Staplyes hath desired Mr. Ludlow to convince her of telling one lye, he said she need not say so, for she went on in a tract of lying. "Goodwife Gould of Fairefeild testifyeth vpon oath, that in a debate in ye church wth Mr. Ludlow, goodwife Staplyes desired him to show her wherein she had told one lye, but Mr. Ludlow said she need not mention ptculars, for she had gon on in a tract of lying. "Ensigne Bryan was told, he sees how the plantife hath proued his charge, to wch he might now answer; wherevpon he presented seuerall testimonies in wrighting vpon oath, taken before Mr. Wells and Mr. Ludlow. "May the thirteenth, 1654. "Hester Ward, wife of Andrew Ward, being sworne deposeth, that aboute a day after that goodwife Knapp was condemned for a witch, she goeing to ye prison house where the said Knapp was kept, she, ye said Knapp, voluntarily, wthout any occasion giuen her, said that goodwife Staplyes told her, the said Knapp, that an Indian brought vnto her, the said Staplyes, two litle things brighter then the light of the day, and told the said goodwife Staplyes they were Indian gods, as the Indian called ym; and the Indian wthall told her, the said Staplyes, if she would keepe them, she would be so big rich, all one god, and that the said Staplyes told the said Knapp, she gaue them again to the said Indian, but she could not tell whether she did so or no. "Luce Pell, the wife of Thomas Pell, being sworne deposeth as followeth, that aboute a day after goodwife Knapp was condemned for a witch, Mris. Jones earnestly intreated her to goe to ye said Knapp, who had sent for her, and then this deponent called the said Hester Ward, and they went together; then the said Knapp voluntarily, of her owne accord, spake as the said Hester Ward hath testifyed, word by word; and the said Mris. Pell further saith, that she being one of ye women that was required by the court to search the said Knapp before she was condemned, & then Mris. Jones presed her, the said Knapp, to confess whether ther were any other that were witches, because goodwife goodwife Basset, when she was condemned, said there was another witch in Fairefeild that held her head full high, and then the said goodwife Knapp stepped a litle aside, and told her, this deponent, goodwife Basset ment not her; she asked her whom she ment, and she named goodwife Staplyes, and then vttered the same speeches as formerly conerning ye Indian gods, and that goodwife Staplyes her sister Martha told the said goodwife Knapp, that her sister Staplyes stood by her, by the fire in there house, and she called to her, sister, sister, and she would not answer, but she, the said Martha, strucke at her and then she went away, and ye next day she asked her sister, and she said she was not there; and Mris. Ward doth also testify wth Mris. Pell, that the said Knapp said the same to her; and the said Mris. Pell saith, that aboute two dayes after the search afforesaid, she went to ye said Knapp in prison house, and the said Knapp said to her, I told you a thing the other day, and goodman Staplies had bine wth her and threatened her, that she had told some thing of his wife that would bring his wiues name in question, and this deponent she told no body of it but her husband, & she was much moued at it. "Elizabeth Brewster being sworne, deposeth and saith, that after goodwife Knap was executed, as soone as she was cut downe, she, the said Knapp, being caried to the graue side, goodwife Staplyes wth some other women went to search the said Knapp, concerning findeing out teats, and goodwife Staplyes handled her verey much, and called to goodwife Lockwood, and said, these were no witches teates, but such as she herselfe had, and other women might haue the same, wringing her hands and takeing ye Lords name in her mouth, and said, will you say these were witches teates, they were not, and called vpon goodwife Lockwood to come & see them; then this deponent desired goodwife Odell to come & see, for she had bine vpon her oath when she found the teates, and she, this depont, desired the said Odill to come and clere it to goodwife Staplies; goodwife Odill would not come; then the said Staplies still called vpon goodwife Lockwood to come, will you say these are witches teates, I, sayes the said Staplies, haue such myselfe, and so haue you if you search yorselfe; goodwife Lockwood replyed, if I had such, she would be hanged; would you, sayes Staplies, yes, saith Lockwood, and deserve it; and the said Staplies handeled the said teates very much, and pulled them wth her fingers, and then goodwife Odill came neere, and she, the said Staplies, still questioning, the said Odill told her no honest woman had such, and then all the women rebuking her and said they were witches teates, and the said Staplies yeilded it. "Mary Brewster being sworn & deposed, saith as followeth, that she was present after the execution of ye said Knapp, and she being brought to the graue side, she saw goodwife Staplyes pull the teates that were found aboute goodwife Knapp, and was verey earnest to know whether those were witches teates wch were found aboute her, the said Knapp, wn the women searched her, and the said Staplyes pulled them as though she would haue pulled them of, and prsently she, ths depont, went away, as hauing no desire to looke vpon them. "Susan Lockwood, wife of Robert Lockwood, being sworne & examined saith as foll, that she was at the execution of goodwife Knapp that was hanged for a witch, and after the said Knapp was cut downe and brought to the graue, goodwife Staplyes, wth other women, looked after the teates that the women spake of appointed by the magistrats, and the said goodwife Staplies was handling of her where the teates were, and the said Staplies stood vp and called three or foure times and bid me come looke of them, & asked her whether she would say they were teates, and she made this answer, no matter whether there were teates or no, she had teates and confessed she was a witch, that was sufficient; if these be teates, here are no more teates then I myselfe haue, or any other women, or you either if you would search yor body; this depont saith she said, I know not what you haue, but for herselfe, if any finde any such things aboute me, I deserved to be hanged as she was, and yet afterward she, the said Staplyes, stooped downe againe and handled her, ye said Knapp, verey much, about ye place where the teates were, and seuerall of ye women cryed her downe, and said they were teates, and then she, the said Staplyes, yeilded, & said verey like they might be teates. "Thomas Sheruington & Christopher Combstocke & goodwife Baldwine were all together at the prison house where goodwife Knapp was, and ye said goodwife Baldwin asked her whether she, the said Knapp, knew of any other, and she said there were some, or one, that had receiued Indian gods that were very bright; the said Baldwin asked her how she could tell, if she were not a witch herselfe, and she said the party told her so, and her husband was witnes to it; and to this they were all sworne & doe depose. "Rebecka Hull, wife of Cornelius Hull, being sworne & examined, deposeth & saith as followeth, that when goodwife Knapp was goeing to execution, Mr. Ludlow, and her father Mr. Jones, pressing the said Knapp to confess that she was a witch, vpon wch goodwife Staplies said, why should she, the said Knapp, confess that wch she was not, and after she, the said goodwife Staplyes, had said so, on that stood by, why should she say so, she the said Staplyes replyed, she made no doubt if she the said Knapp were one, she would confess it. "Deborah Lockwood, of the age of 17 or thereaboute, sworne & examined, saith as followeth, that she being present when goodwife Knapp was goeing to execution, betweene Tryes & the mill, she heard goodwife Staplyes say to goodwife Gould, she was pswaded goodwife Knapp was no witch; goodwife Gould said, sister Staplyes, she is a witch, & hath confessed had had familiarity wth the Deuill. Staplies replyed, I was wth her yesterday, or last night, and she said no such thing as she heard. "Aprill 26th, 1654. "Bethia Brundish, of the age of sixteene or thereaboutes, maketh oath, as they were goeing to execution of goodwife Knapp, who was condemned for a witch by the court & jury at Fairfeild, there being present herselfe & Deborah Lockwood and Sarah Cable, she heard goodwife Staplyes say, that she thought the said goodwife Knapp was no witch, and goodwife Gould presently reproued her for it." "Witnes "Andrew Warde, "Jurat' die & anno prdicto, "Coram me, Ro Ludlowe. "The plant' replyed that he had seuerall other witnesses wch he thought would cleere the matters in question, if the court please to heare them, wch being granted, he first presented a testimony of goodwife Whitlocke of Fairfeild, vpon oath taken before Mr. Fowler at Millford, the 27th of May, 1654, wherein she saith, that concerning goodwife Staplyes speeches at the execution of goodwife Knapp, she being present & next to goody Staplyes when they were goeing to put the dead corpes of goodwife Knapp into the graue, seuerall women were looking for the markes of a witch vpon the dead body, and seuerall of the women said they could finde none, & this depont said, nor I; and she heard goodwife Staplyes say, nor I; then came one that had searched the said witch, & shewed them the markes that were vpon her, and said what are these; and then this depont heard goodwife Staplyes say she never saw such in all her life, and that she was pswaded that no honest woman had such things as those were; and the dead corps being then prsently put into the graue, goodwife Staplyes & myselfe came imediately away together vnto the towne, from the place of execution. "Goodwife Barlow of Fairfeild before the court did now testify vpon oath, that when Knapps wife was hanged and ready to be buried, she desired to see the markes of a witch and spake to one of her neighbours to goe wth her, and they looked but found them not; then goodwife Staplyes came to them, and one or two more, goodwife Stapyleyes kneeled downe by them, and they all looked but found ym not, & said they saw nothing but what is comon to other women, but after they found them they all wondered, and goodwife Staplyes in pticular, and said they neuer saw such things in their life before, so they went away. "The wife of John Tompson of Fairefeild testifyeth vpon oath, that goodwife Whitlock, goodwife Staplyes and herselfe, were at the graue and desired to see ye markes of the witch that was hanged, they looked but found them not at first, then the midwife came & shewed them, goodwife Staplyes said she neuer saw such, and she beleeved no honest woman had such. "Goodwife Sherwood of Fairefeild testifyeth vpon oath, that that day Knapps wife was condemned for a witch, she was there to see her, all being gone forth but goodwife Odill and her selfe, then their came in Mris. Pell and her two daughters, Elizabeth & Mary, goody Lockwood and goodwife Purdy; Mris. Pell told Knapps wife she was sent to speake to her, to haue her confess that for wch she was condemned, and if she knew any other to be a witch to discover them, and told her, before she was condemned she might thinke it would be a meanes to take away her life, but now she must dye, and therefore she should discouer all, for though she and her family by the providence of God had brought in nothing against her, yet ther was many witnesses came in against her, and she was cast by the jury & godly magistrats hauing found her guilty, and that the last evidence cast the cause. So the next day she went in againe to see the witch wth other neighbours, there was Mr. Jones, Mris. Pell & her two daughters, Mris. Ward and goodwife Lockwood, where she heard Mris. Pell desire Knapps wife to lay open herselfe, and make way for the minister to doe her good; her daughter Elizabeth bid her doe as the witch at the other towne did, that is, discouer all she knew to be witches. Goodwife Knapp said she must not say anything wch is not true, she must not wrong any body, and what had bine said to her in private, before she went out of the world, when she was vpon the ladder, she would reveale to Mr. Ludlow or ye minister. Elizabeth Bruster said, if you keepe it a litle longer till you come to the ladder, the diuill will haue you quick, if you reveale it not till then. Good: Knapp replyed, take heed the devile haue not you, for she could not tell how soone she might be her companyon, and added, the truth is you would haue me say that goodwife Staplyes is a witch, but I haue sinns enough to answer for allready, and I hope I shall not add to my condemnation; I know nothing by goodwife Staplyes, and I hope she is an honest woman. Then goodwife Lockwood said, goodwife Knapp what ayle you; goodman Lyon, I pray speake, did you heare vs name goodwif Staplyes name since we came here; Lyon wished her to haue a care what she said and not breed difference betwixt neighbours after she was gone; Knapp replyed, goodman Lyon hold yor tongue, you know not what I know, I haue ground for what I say, I haue bine fished wthall in private more then you are aware of; I apprehend goodwife Staples hath done me some wrong in her testimony, but I must not render euill for euill. Then this depont spake to goody Knapp, wishing her to speake wth the jury, for she apprehended goodwife Staplyes witnessed nothing contrary to other witnesses, and she supposed they would informe her that the last evidence did not cast ye cause; she replyed that she had bine told so wthin this halfe houre, & desired Mr. Jones and herselfe to stay and the rest to depart, that she might speake wth vs in private, and desired me to declare to Mr. Jones what they said against goodwife Staplyes the day before, but she told her she heard not goodwife Staplyes named, but she knew nothing of that nature; she desired her to declare her minde fully to M' Jones, so she went away. "Further this depont saith, that comeing into the house where the witch was kept, she found onely the wardsman and goodwife Baldwine, there goodwife Baldwin whispered her in the eare and said to her that goodwife Knapp told her that a woman in ye towne was a witch and would be hanged wthin a twelue moneth, and would confess herselfe a witch and cleere her that she was none, and that she asked her how she knew she was a witch, and she told her she had reeived Indian gods of an Indian, wch are shining things, wch shine lighter then the day. Then this depont asked goodwife Knapp if she had said so, and she denyed it; goodwife Baldwin affirmed she did, but Knapps wife againe denyed it and said she knowes no woman in the towne that is a witch, nor any woman that hath received Indian gods, but she said there was an Indian at a womans house and offerred her a coople of shining things, but she woman neuer told her she tooke them, but was afraide and ran away, and she knowes not that the woman euer tooke them. Goodwife desired this depont to goe out and speake wth the wardsmen; Thomas Shervington, who was one of them, said hee remembred not that Knapps wife said a woman in the towne was a witch and would be hanged, but spake something of shining things, but Kester, Mr. Pells man, being by said, but I remember; and as they were goeing to the graue, goodwife Staplyes said, it was long before she could beleeve this poore woman was a witch, or that their were any witches, till the word of God convinced her, wch saith, thou shalt not suffer a witch to liue. "Thomas Lyon of Fairfeild testifyeth vpon oath, taken before Mr. Fowler, the 27th May, 1654, that he being set by authority to watch wth Knapps wife, there came in Mris. Pell, Mrs. Ward, goodwife Lockwood, and Mris. Pells two daughters; the fell into some discourse, that goodwife Knapp should say to them in private wch goodwife Knapp would not owne, but did seeme to be much troubled at them and said, the truth is you would haue me to say that goodwife Staplyes is a witch; I haue sinnes enough allready, I will not add this to my condemnation, I know no such thing by her, I hope she is an honest woman; then goodwife Lockwood caled to mee and asked whether they had named goodwife Staplyes, so I spake to goodwife Knapp to haue a care what she said, that she did not make differrence amongst her neighbours when she was gon, and I told her that I hoped they were her frends and desired her soules good, and not to accuse any out of envy, or to that effect; Knapps wife said, goodman Lyon hold yor tongue, you know not so much as I doe, you know not what hath bine said to me in private; and after they was gon, of her owne accord, betweene she & I, goody Knapp said she knew nothing against goodwife Staplyes of being a witch. "Goodwife Gould of Fairfeild testifyeth vpon oath, that goodwife Sherwood & herselfe came in to see the witch, there was one before had bine speaking aboute some suspicious words of one in the towne, this depont wished her if she knew anything vpon good ground she would declare it, if not, that she would take heede that the deuill pswaded her not to sow malicious seed to doe hurt when she was dead, yet wished her to speake the truth if she knew anything by any pson; she said she knew nothing but vpon suspicion by the rumours she heares; this depont told her she was now to dye, and therefore she should deale truly; she burst forth ito weeping and desired me to pray for her, and said I knew not how she was tempted; neuer, neuer poore creature was tempted as I am tempted, pray, pray for me. Further this depont saith, as they were goeing to ye graue, Mr. Buckly, goodwife Sherwood, goodwife Staplye and myselfe, goodwife Staplyes was next me, she said it was a good while before she could beleeue this woman was a witch, and that she could not beleue a good while that there were any witches, till she went to ye word of God, and then she was convinced, and as she remembers, goodwife Stapleyes went along wth her all the way till they came at ye gallowes. Further this deponent saith, that Mr. Jones some time since that Knapps wife was condemned, did tell her, and that wth a very cherefull countenance & blessing God for it, that Knapps wife had cleered one in ye towne, & said you know who I meane sister Staplyes, blessed be God for it." Staplies' wife was a character. She was "a light woman" from the night of her memorable ride with Tom Tash, to Jemeaco, Long Island, to the suspicion of herself as a witch, and the "repairing" of her name by Thomas' lawsuit, and her own indictment for familiarity with Satan some years later. That she had many of the traditional witch qualities, and was something of a gymnast and hypnotist, is written in the vivid recollections of Tash's experience with her. This was his account of it on oath thirty years after: "John Tash aged about sixty four or thareabouts saith he being at Master Laueridges at Newtown on Long Island aboutt thirty year since Goodman Owen and Goody Owin desired me to goe with Thomas Stapels wiffe of Fairfield to Jemeaco on Long Island to the hous of George Woolsy and as we war going along we cam to a durty slow and thar the hors blundred in the slow and I mistrusted that she the said Goody Stapels was off the hors and I was troubiled in my mind very much soe as I cam back I thought I would tak better noatis how it was and when I cam to the slow abovesaid I put on the hors prity sharp and then I put my hand behind me and felt for her and she was not upon the hors and as soon as we war out of the slow she was on the hors behind me boath going and coming and when I cam home I told thes words to Master Leveredg that she was a light woman as I judged and I am redy to give oath to this when leagaly caled tharunto as witnes my hand. his "John+Tash mark "Grenwich July 12, 1692. "John Tash hath given oath to his testimony abovesaid "Before me John Renels Comessener." And Mistress Staplies had other qualities, always potent in small communities to invite criticism and dislike. She was a shrewd and shrewish woman, impatient of some of the Puritan social standards and of the laws of everyday life. She openly condemned certain common moralities, was reckless in criticism of her neighbors, and quarreled with Ludlow about some church matters. It is evident from the testimonies that Staplies was on both sides as to the guilt of goodwife Knapp, and when rumor and suspicion began to point to herself as a mischief-maker and busybody in witchcraft matters, to divert attention from his wife and set a backfire to the sweep of public opinion, Thomas sued Ludlow, and despite his strong and clear defense as shown on the record evidence, the court in his absence awarded damages against him for defamation and for charging Staplies' wife with going on "in a tract of lying," "in reparation of his wife's name" as the judgment reads. Mistress Staplies did not grow in grace, or in the graces of her neighbors, since some years later she was indicted for witchcraft, tried, and acquitted with others, at Fairfield, in 1692.[J] [Footnote J: See _Historical Note_, p. 161.] CHAPTER XI "The planters of New England were Englishmen, not exempt from English prejudices in favor of English institutions, laws and usages ... They had not been taught to question the wisdom or the humanity of English criminal law. They were as unconscious of its barbarism, as were the parliaments which had enacted or the courts which dispensed it." _Blue Laws, True and False_ (p. 15), J. HAMMOND TRUMBULL. "It would seem a marvellous panic, this that shook the rugged reasoners in its iron grasp, and led to such insanity as this displayed toward Alse Young, did we not know that it was but the result of a normal inhuman law confirmed by a belief in the divine, the direct legacy of England, the unquestionable utterance of Church and State." _One Blank of Windsor_, ANNIE ELIOT TRUMBULL. This brief review of witchcraft in some of its historical aspects, of its spread to the New England colonies, of its rise and suppression in the Connecticut towns, with the citations from the original records which admit no challenge of the facts, may be aptly closed by what is believed to be a complete list of the Connecticut witchcraft cases, authenticated by conclusive evidence of time, place, incident, and circumstance. Some minor questions may be put, or kept in controversy, as one writer or another, who regards history as a matter of opinion, not of fact, and relying on tradition or hearsay evidence or on superficial investigation, gives a place to guesswork instead of truth, to historical conceits instead of historical verities. A RECORD OF THE MEN AND WOMEN WHO CAME UNDER SUSPICION OR ACCUSATION OF WITCHCRAFT IN CONNECTICUT, AND WHAT BEFELL THEM. Herein are written the names of all persons in anywise involved in the witchcraft delusion in Connecticut, with the consequences to them in indictments, trials, convictions, executions, or in banishment, exile, warnings, reprieves, or acquittals, so far as made known in any tradition, document, public or private record, to this time. MARY JOHNSON. Windsor, 1647. There is no documentary or other evidence to show that Mary Johnson was executed for witchcraft in Windsor in 1647. The charge rests on an entry in Governor Winthrop's _Journal_, "One ---- of Windsor arraigned and executed at Hartford for a witch." WINTHROP'S _History of New England_ (Savage, 2: 374). No importance would have attached to this statement, which bears no date and does not give the name or sex of the condemned, had not Dr. Savage in his annotations of the _Journal_ (2: 374) asserted that it was "the first instance of the delusion in New England," and without warrant added, "Perhaps there was sense enough early in the colony to destroy the record." In all discussions of this matter, it has been assumed or conceded (in the absence of any positive proof), by such eminent critics and scholars as Drake, Fiske, Poole, Hoadley, Stiles, and others, that Winthrop's note was based on rumor or hearsay, or that it related to the later conviction and execution of a woman of the same name, next noted, and the errors as to person, time, and place might easily have been made. MARY JOHNSON. Wethersfield, 1648. This Mary Johnson left a definite record. It is written in broad lines in the dry-as-dust chronicles of the time. Cotton Mather embalmed the tragedy in his _Magnalia_. "There was one Mary Johnson tryd at Hartford in this countrey, upon an indictment of 'familiarity with the devil,' and was found guilty thereof, chiefly upon her own confession." "And she dyd in a frame extreamly to the satisfaction of them that were spectators of it." _Magnalia Christi Americana_ (6: 7). At a session of the Particular Court held in Hartford, August 21, 1646, Mary Johnson for thievery was sentenced to be presently whipped, and to be brought forth a month hence at Wethersfield, and there whipped. The whipping post, even in those days, did not prove a means to repentance and reformation, since at a session of the same court, December 7, 1648, the jury found a bill of indictment against Mary Johnson, that by her own confession she was guilty of familiarity with the devil. That she was condemned and executed seems certain (it being assumed that Mary and Elizabeth Johnson were one and the same person, both Christian names appearing in the record), since at a session of the General Court, May 21, 1650, the prison-keeper's charges for her imprisonment were allowed and ordered paid "out of her estate." A pathetic incident attaches to this case. A child to this poor woman was "borne in the prison," who was bound out until he became twenty-one years of age, to Nathaniel Rescew, to whom £15 were paid according to the mother's promise to him, he having engaged himself "to meinteine and well educate her sonne." _Colonial Records of Connecticut_ (I,143: 171: 209-22-26-32). THE FIRST EXECUTION FOR WITCHCRAFT IN NEW ENGLAND _A secret long kept made known--Winthrop's journal entry probably correct--Tradition and surmise make place for historical certainty--The evidence of an eyewitness--A notable service._ ALSE YOUNG. Windsor, 1647. "May 26. 47 Alse Young was hanged." MATTHEW GRANT'S _Diary_. "The first entry (the executions of Carrington and his wife being next mentioned) supplies the name of the 'One (blank) of Windsor arraigned and executed at Hartford for a witch'--the first known execution for witchcraft in New England. I have found no mention elsewhere of this Alse Young." J. HAMMOND TRUMBULL'S _Observation on Grant's Entry_. "Who then was the 'witch' with whose execution Connecticut stepped into the dark shadow of persecution? She has been called Mary Johnson, but no Mary Johnson has been identified as this earliest victim. Whose is that pathetic figure shrinking in the twilight of that early record? We could think of her with no less kindly compassion could we give a name to the unhappy victim of the misread Word of God, who was led forth to a death stripped of dignity as of consolation: who to an ignorance and credulity, brought from an old world and not yet sifted out by the enlightenment and experience of a new, yielded up her perhaps miserable but unforfeited life. Here is the note which in all probability establishes the identity of the One of Windsor arraigned and executed as a witch--'May 26, 47 Alse Young was hanged.'" _"One Blank" of Windsor_ (Courant Literary Section, 12, 3, 1904), ANNIE ELIOT TRUMBULL. Matthew Grant came over with the Dorchester men from the Bay Colony in 1635, and settled in Windsor, Connecticut, where he lived until his death there in 1683. He was a land surveyor, and the town clerk, a close observer of men and their public and private affairs, and kept a careful record of current events in a "crabbed, eccentric but by no means entirely illegible hand" during the long years of his sojourn in the "Lord's Waste." It has been surmised for several years--but without confirmation--and credited by the highest authorities in Connecticut colonial history, and known only to one of them, that Grant's manuscript diary contained the significant historical note as to the fate of Alse Young. It waited two centuries and more for its true interpreter, as did Wolcott's cipher notes of Hooker's famous sermon, and there it is, "not made on the decorous pages which memorize the saints," Brookes, Hooker, Warham, Reyner, Hanford, and Huit, "but scrawled on the inside of the cover, where it might be the sinner might escape detection." In the publication of Grant's note Miss Trumbull has rendered a great service in the settlement of a disputed question, in the correction of errors, in fixing the priority of the outbreak between Massachusetts and Connecticut; and in the new light shining through this revelation stands Alse, glorified with the qualities of youth, of gentleness, of innocence; and the story of her going to the unholy sacrifice on that fateful May morning more than two and a half centuries ago is told with exquisite tenderness and pathos. Confirmation of the truth of Grant's entry is given by the scholarly historian of Windsor, Dr. Stiles, who says in his history of that ancient town: "We know that a John Youngs, [?] bought land in Windsor of William Hubbard in 1641--which he sold in 1649--and thereafter disappears from record. He may have been the husband or father of 'Achsah'[?] the witch; if so, it would be most natural that he and his family should leave Windsor." STILES' _History of Windsor_ (pp. 444-450). JOHN and JOAN CARRINGTON. Wethersfield, 1651. They were indicted at a court held February 20, 1651, Governor John Haynes and Edward Hopkins being present, with other magistrates; and they were found guilty on March 6, 1651. Both were executed. _Records Particular Court_ (2: 17). [Dr. Hoadley's note in this case: "Mr. Trumbull (Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull) told me he had a record of execution in these cases. I suppose he referred to the diary of Matthew Grant."] The entry of the execution appears in Grant's _Diary_, after the note as to Alse Young. _One Blank of Windsor_, TRUMBULL. LYDIA GILBERT. Windsor, 1654. October 3, 1651, Henry Stiles of Windsor was killed by the accidental discharge of a gun in the hands of Thomas Allyn, also of Windsor. An inquest was held, and Thomas was indicted in the following December. He plead guilty, and at the trial the jury found the fact to be "homicide by misadventure." Thomas was fined £20 for his "sinful neglect and careless carriage," and put under a bond of £10, for good behavior for a year. _Records Particular Court_ (2: 29-57). But witchcraft was abroad, and its tools and emissaries more than two years afterwards fastened suspicion of this death by clear accident, on Lydia Gilbert, it being charged that "thou hast of late years, or still dost give entertainment to Sathan ... and by his helpe hast killed the body of Henry Styles, besides other witchcrafts." She was indicted and tried in September or November, 1654, and "Ye party above mentioned is found guilty of witchcraft by ye jury." Her fate is not written in any known record, but the late Honorable S.O. Griswold, a recognized authority on early colonial history in Windsor, says that as the result of a close examination of the record, "I think the reasonable probability is that she was hanged." _Records Particular Court_ (2: 51); STILE'S _History of Windsor_ (pp. 169, 444-450). GOODY BASSETT. Stratford, 1651. Executed. "The Gouernor, Mr. Cullick, and Mr. Clarke are desired to goe downe to Stratford to keepe courte uppon the tryall of Goody Bassett for her life"--May, 1651. "Because goodwife Bassett when she was condemned" (probably on her own confession, as in the Greensmith case). _Colonial Records of Connecticut_ (1: 220); _New Haven Colonial Records_ (2: 77-88). GOODWIFE KNAPP. Fairfield, 1653. Executed. "After goodwife Knapp was executed, as soon as she was cut downe." _New Haven Colonial Records_ (1: 81). Full account in previous chapter. ELIZABETH GODMAN. New Haven, 1655. Acquitted. Elizabeth was released from prison September 4, 1655, with a reprimand and warning by the court. _New Haven Town Records_ (2: 174, 179); _New Haven Colonial Records_ (2: 29, 151). Account in previous chapter. NICHOLAS BAYLEY and WIFE. New Haven, 1655. Acquitted. Nicholas and his wife, after several appearances in court on account of a suspicion of witchcraft, and for various other offenses--among them, lying and filthy speeches by the wife--were advised to remove from the colony. They took the advice. WILLIAM MEAKER. New Haven, 1657. Accused acquitted. Thomas Mullener was always in trouble. He was a chronic litigant. His many contentions are noted at length in the court records. Among other things he made up his mind that his pigs were bewitched, so "he did cut of the tayle and eare of one and threw into the fire," "said it was a meanes used in England by some people to finde out witches," and in the light of this porcine sacrifice he charged his neighbor William Meaker with the bewitching. Meaker promptly brought an action of defamation, but Mullener became involved in other controversies and "miscarriages," to the degree that he was advised to remove out of the place, and put under bonds for good behavior; and Meaker, probably feeling himself vindicated, dropped his suit. _New Haven Colonial Records_ (2: 224). ELIZABETH GARLICK. Easthampton, 1658. Acquitted. _Records Particular Court_ (2 :113); _Colonial Records of Connecticut_ (1: 573); STILES' _History of Windsor_ (p. 735). Account in previous chapter. NICHOLAS and MARGARET JENNINGS. Saybrook, 1661. Jury disagreed. The major part of the jury found Nicholas guilty, but the rest only strongly suspected him, and as to Margaret, some found her guilty, and the others suspected her to be guilty. It is probable that the Jennings were under inquiry when, at a session of the General Court at Hartford, June 15, 1659, it was recorded that "Mr. Willis is requested to goe downe to Sea Brook, to assist ye Maior in examininge the suspitions about witchery, and to act therin as may be requisite." _Records Particular Court_ (2: 160-3); _Colonial Records of Connecticut_ (1: 338). 1662-63 was a notable year in the history of witchcraft in Connecticut. It marked the last execution for the crime within the commonwealth, and thirty years before the outbreak at Salem. NATHANIEL GREENSMITH and REBECCA his WIFE. Hartford, 1662. Both executed. Account in previous chapter. _Records Particular Court_ (2: 182); _Memorial History Hartford County_ (1: 274); _Connecticut Magazine_ (November 1899, pp. 557-561). MARY SANFORD. Hartford, 1662. Convicted June 13, 1662. Executed. _Records Particular Court_ (2: 174-175); HOADLEY'S _Record Witchcraft Trials_. ANDREW SANFORD. Hartford, 1662. No indictment. _Records Particular Court_ (2: 174-175); HOADLEY'S _Record Witchcraft Trials_. JUDITH VARLETT (VARLETH). Hartford, 1662. Arrested; released. It will be recalled that Rebecca Greensmith in her confession, among other things, said that Mrs. Judith Varlett told her that she (Varlett) "was much troubled wth ye Marshall Jonath: Gilbert & cried, & she sayd if it lay in her power she would doe him a mischief, or what hurt shee could." Judith must have indulged in other indiscretions of association or of speech, since she soon fell under suspicion of witchcraft, and was put under arrest and imprisoned. But she had a powerful friend at court (who, despite his many contentions and intrigues, commanded the attention of the Connecticut authorities), in the person of her brother-in-law Peter Stuyvesant, then bearing the title and office of "Captain General and Commander-in-Chief of Amsterdam In New Netherland, now called New York, and the Dutch West India Islands." It was doubtless due to his intercession in a letter of October 13, 1662, that she was released. The letter: "To the Honorable Deputy Governour & Court of "Magistracy att Harafort. (Oct. 1662) "Honoured and Worthy Srs.-- "By this occasion of me Brother in Lawe (beinge necessitated to make a Second Voyage for ayde his distressed sister Judith Varleth jmprisoned as we are jmformed, uppon pretend accusation of wicherye we Realy Beleeve and out her wel known education Life Conversation & profession of faith, wee dear assure that shee is jnnocent of Such a horrible Crimen, & wherefor j doubt not hee will now, as formerly finde jour dhonnours favour and ayde for the jnnocent). _Ye Ld Stephesons Letter_ (C.B. 2: doc. 1). MARY BARNES. Farmington, 1662. Convicted January 6. Probably executed. _Records Particular Court_ (2: 184). WILLIAM AYRES and GOODY AYRES his Wife. Hartford, 1662. Arrested. Fled from the colony. ELIZABETH SEAGER. Hartford, 1662. Convicted; discharged. Goody Seager probably deserved all that came to her in trials and punishment. She was one of the typical characters in the early communities upon whom distrust and dislike and suspicion inevitably fell. Exercising witch powers was one of her more reputable qualities. She was indicted for blasphemy, adultery, and witchcraft at various times, was convicted of adultery, and found guilty of witchcraft in June, 1665. She owed her escape from hanging to a finding of the Court of Assistants that the jury's verdict did not legally answer to the indictment, and she was set "free from further suffering or imprisonment." _Records County Court_ (3: 5: 52); _Colonial Records of Connecticut_ (2: 531); _Rhode Island Colonial Records_ (2: 388). JAMES WALKLEY. Hartford, 1662. Arrested. Fled to Rhode Island. KATHERINE HARRISON. Wethersfield, 1669. Convicted; discharged. See account in previous chapter. _Records Court of, Assistants_ (I, 1-7); _Colonial Records of Connecticut_ (2: 118, 132); _Doc. History New York_ (4th ed., 4: 87). NICHOLAS DESBOROUGH. Hartford, 1683. Suspicioned. Desborough was a landowner in Hartford, having received a grant of fifty acres for his services in the Pequot war. He owes his enrollment in the hall of fame to Cotton Mather, who was so self-satisfied with his efforts in "Relating the wonders of the invisible world in preternatural occurrences" that in his pedantic exuberance he put in a learned sub-title: "Miranda cano, sed sunt credenda" (The themes I sing are marvelous, yet true). Fourteen examples were chosen for the "Thaumatographia Pneumatica," as "remarkable histories" of molestations from evil spirits, and Mather said of them, "that no reasonable man in this whole country ever did question them." Desborough stands in place as the "fourth example." No case more clearly illustrates the credulity that neutralized common sense in strong men. It was a case of abstraction, or theft, or mistaken thrift. A "chest of cloaths" was missing. The owner, instead of going to law, found his remedy "in things beyond the course of nature," and he and his friends with "nimble hands" pelted Desborough's house, and himself when abroad, with stones, turves, and corncobs, and finally some of his property was burned by a fire "in an unknown way kindled." Is it not enough to note that Mather closes this wondrous tale of the spiritual molestations with the very human explanation that "upon the restoring of the cloaths, the trouble ceased"? ELIZABETH CLAWSON. Fairfield, 1692. Acquitted. Account in previous chapter. MARY and HANNAH HARVEY. Fairfield, 1692. Jury found no bill. GOODY MILLER. Fairfield, 1692. Acquitted. MARY STAPLIES. Fairfield, 1692. Jury found no bill. Account in previous chapter. MERCY DISBOROUGH. Fairfield, 1692. Convicted; reprieved. Account in previous chapter. HUGH CROTIA. Stratford, 1693. Jury found no bill. Account in previous chapter. _C. & D._ (Vol. I,185). WINIFRED BENHAM SENIOR and JUNIOR. Wallingford, 1697. Acquitted. They were mother and daughter (twelve or thirteen years old), tried at Hartford and acquitted in August, 1697; indicted on new complaints in October, 1697, but the jury returned on the bill, "Ignoramus." _Records Court of Assistants_ (1: 74, 77). SARAH SPENCER. Colchester, 1724. Accused. Damages 1s. Even a certificate of the minister as to her religion and virtue, could not free Sarah from a reputation as a witch. And when Elizabeth (and how many Connecticut witches bore that name) Ackley accused her of "riding and pinching," and James Ackley, her husband, made threats, Sarah sued them for a fortune in those days, £500 damages, and got judgment for £5, with costs. The Ackleys appealed, and at the trial the jury awarded Sarah damages of ls., and also stated that they found the Ackleys not insane--a clear demonstration that the mental condition of witchcraft accusers was taken account of in the later and saner times. NORTON. Bristol, 1768. Suspicioned. No record. "On the mountain," probably Fall mountain in Bristol, the antics of a young woman named Norton, who accused her aunt of putting a bridle on her and driving her through the air to witch meetings in Albany, caused a commotion among the virtuous people. Deacon Dutton's ox was torn apart by an invisible agent, and unseen hands brought new ailments to the residents there, pinched them and stuck red hot pins into them. Elder Wildman set out to exorcise the evil spirit, but became so terrorized that he called for help, and one of his posse of assistants was scared into convulsions. This case may be counted among the last, perhaps the last traditions of the strange delusion which aforetime filled the hills and valleys of Quohnectacut with its baleful light. _Memorial History Hartford County_ (2: 51). ROLL OF NAMES ALSE YOUNG 1647 MARY JOHNSON 1648 JOHN CARRINGTON 1650-51 JOAN CARRINGTON 1650-71 GOODY BASSETT 1651 GOODWIFE KNAPP 1653 LYDIA GILBERT 1654 ELIZABETH GODMAN 1655 NICHOLAS BAYLY 1655 GOODWIFE BAYLY 1655 WILLIAM MEAKER 1657 ELIZABETH GARLICK 1658 NICHOLAS JENNINGS 1661 MARGARET JENNINGS 1661 NATHANIEL GREENSMITH 1662 REBECCA GREENSMITH 1662 MARY SANFORD 1662 ANDREW SANFORD 1662 GOODY AYRES 1662 KATHERINE PALMER 1662 JUDITH VARLETT 1662 JAMES WALKLEY 1662 MARY BARNES 1662-63 ELIZABETH SEAGER 1666 KATHERINE HARRISON 1669 NICHOLAS DISBOROUGH 1683 MARY STAPLIES 1692 MERCY DISBOROUGH 1692 ELIZABETH CLAWSON 1692 MARY HARVEY 1692 HANNAH HARVEY 1692 GOODY MILLER 1692 HUGH CROTIA 1693 WINIFRED BENHAM, SENR. 1697 WINIFRED BENHAM, JUNR. 1697 SARAH SPENCER 1724 ---- NORTON 1768 What of those men and women to whom justice in their time was meted out, in this age of reason, of religious enlightenment, liberty, and catholicity, when witchcraft has lost its mystery and power, when intelligence reigns, and the Devil works his will in other devious ways and in a more attractive guise? They were the victims of delusion, not of dishonor, of a perverted theology fed by moral aberrations, of a fanaticism which never stopped to reason, and halted at no sacrifice to do God's service; and they were all done to death, or harried into exile, disgrace, or social ostracism, through a mistaken sense of religious duty: but they stand innocent of deep offense and only guilty in the eye of the law written in the Word of God, as interpreted and enforced by the forefathers who wrought their condemnation, and whose religion made witchcraft a heinous sin, and whose law made it a heinous crime. Is the contrast in human experience, between the servitude to credulity and superstition in 1647-97 and the deliverance from it of this day, any wider than between the ironclad theology of that and of later times, and the challenge to it, and its diabolical logic, of yesterday, which marks a new era in denominational creeds, in religious beliefs, and their expression? Jonathan Edwards, in his famous sermon at Enfield in 1741, on "Sinners in the hands of an Angry God," was inspired to say to the impenitent: "The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you and is dreadfully provoked; His wrath toward you burns like fire; He looks upon you as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into the fire; He is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in His sight; you are 10,000 times so abominable in His eyes as the most hateful and venomous serpent is in ours.... Instead of one how many is it likely will remember this discourse in hell! And it would be a wonder if some that are now present should not be in hell in a very short time--before this year is out. And it would be no wonder if some persons, that now sit here in some seats of this meeting-house, in health and quiet, and secure, should be there before to-morrow morning." One hundred and sixty-three years later, Rev. Dr. Samuel T. Carter, a godly minister of the same faith, "a heretic who is no heretic," stood before the presbytery of Nassau, was invited to remain in the Presbyterian communion, and yet said this of the doctrine of Edwards, as written in the _Westminster Confession_: "In God's name and Christ's name it is not true. There is no such God as the God of the confession. There is no such world as the world of the confession. There is no such eternity as the eternity of the confession.... This world so full of flowers and sunshine and the laughter of children is not a cursed lost world, and the 'endless torment' of the confession is not God's, nor Christ's, nor the Bible's idea of future punishment." What should constitute the true faith of a Christian, and set him apart from his fellowmen in duties and observances, was one of the crucial questions in the everyday life of the early New England colonists, and the hanging and discipline of witches was one of its necessary incidents. It was the same spirit of intolerance and of religious animosity that was written in the treatment of the Quakers and Baptists at Boston; in the experience of Roger Williams and Anne Hutchinson; and of "The Rogerenes" in Connecticut, for "profanation of the Sabbath," told in a chapter of forgotten history. In the sunlight of the later revelation, is not the present judgment of the men and women of those far off times, "when the wheel of prayer was in perpetual motion," when fear and superstition and the wrath of an angry God ruled the strongest minds, truly interpreted in the solemn afterthoughts which the poet ascribes to the magistrate and minister at the grave of Giles Corey? HATHORNE "This is the Potter's Field. Behold the fate Of those who deal in witchcrafts, and when questioned, Refuse to plead their guilt or innocence, And stubbornly drag death upon themselves. MATHER "Those who lie buried in the Potter's Field Will rise again as surely as ourselves That sleep in honored graves with epitaphs; And this poor man whom we have made a victim, Hereafter will be counted as a martyr." _The New England Tragedies._ HISTORICAL NOTE ROGER LUDLOW The Connecticut historians to a very recent date, in ignorance of the facts, and despite his notable services of twenty-four years to the colonies, left Ludlow to die in obscurity in Virginia or elsewhere, and some of the traditions, based on no record or other evidence, have been recently repeated. It is therefore proper to state here in few words who Ludlow was, what he did both in Massachusetts and Connecticut, and after his "return into England" in 1654. Ludlow came of an ancient English family, which gave to history in his own time and generation such illustrious kinsmen as Sir Henry Ludlow, a member of the Long Parliament and one of the Puritan leaders, and Sir Edmund Ludlow, member of Parliament, Lieutenant-General under Cromwell, member of the court at King Charles' trial, and whom Macaulay named "the most illustrious saviour of a mighty race of men, the judges of a king, the founders of a republic." In May, 1630, Ludlow came to Massachusetts, as one of the Assistants under the charter of "The Governor and company of Massachusetts Bay in New England." His services in the Bay Colony from 1630-35 ranged from the duties of a magistrate in the Great Charter Court to those of the high office of Deputy Governor. The quality of that service is written in a bare statement of his various offices--surveyor, negotiator of the Pequot treaty, colonel ex officio, auditor of Governor Winthrop's accounts, superintendent of fortifications, military commissioner, member of the General Court, Deputy Governor when Thomas Dudley was Governor; and he was always one of the foremost men in civil, political, and social affairs, to the day of his departure to "the valley of the long river,"--a day of good fortune for Connecticut. When Massachusetts established church membership as the condition of suffrage,--and radical differences of opinion on other matters arose,--it marked the culmination of a set purpose of some of her ablest men to remove from her jurisdiction, among whom Hooker, Ludlow, and Haynes were the most notable. The General Court created a commission to govern Connecticut for a year, and made Ludlow its chief. He came to the new land of promise with the Dorchester men, and settled in Windsor in 1635-36. What he did in the nineteen years of his residence at Windsor and Fairfield is epitomized in a brief summary of the duties and honors to which he was called by his fellowmen: Chief of the Massachusetts commission and the first Governor, de facto; organizer and chief magistrate of the first court; writer of the earliest laws; president of the court which declared war against the Pequots; framer of the Fundamental Orders--the Constitution of 1639--which embodied the great principles of government by the people propounded and elucidated by the illustrious Thomas Hooker, in his letter to Governor Winthrop, and in his famous sermon; compiler, at the request of the General Court, of the _Body of Lawes_, the _Code of 1650_; commissioner on important state matters; commissioner for the United Colonies; founder and defender of Fairfield; patriot, jurist, statesman. Ludlow left Connecticut in 1654, not to die in obscurity as the earlier writers imagined, but to serve abroad for several years in positions of honor and distinction. Cromwell invited him to return, as he did many of the leading Puritans in New England, and appointed him a commissioner for the administration of justice in Dublin; also to serve with the chief justice of the upper bench and other distinguished lawyers, to determine all the claims to the forfeited Irish lands, and at last as a Master in Chancery. Ten years Ludlow served in these important stations; and at his death, probably in 1664, he was buried in St. Michael's churchyard in Dublin, with his wife--a sister of Governor John Endicott--and other members of his family.[K] [Footnote K: _Roger Ludlow--The Colonial Lawmaker_--TAYLOR.] BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Some of the authorities and records in witchcraft literature consulted in the writing of this essay are here cited for reference and information: Connecticut Archives: _Wyllys Papers, Original Witchcraft Depositions_; Records: _General Court, Particular Court, Court of Assistants, County Court, Colonial Boundaries, Crimes and Misdemeanors, Connecticut Colonial, New Haven Colonial, Hartford Probate, New Haven Town; Magnolia Christi Americana_ (MATHER); MATTHEW GRANT'S _Diary_ (TRUMBULL'S _Observations_) _Courant Literary Section_, 12-3-1904; HOADLEY'S _Witchcraft Trials and Notes_ (Manuscript); WINTHROP'S _History of New England_; STILES' _History of Windsor; Blue Laws, True and False_ (TRUMBULL); PERKINS' _Discourse; The Literature of Witchcraft_ (BURR); _Hammurabi's Code; Cent. Mag._, June, 1903; BLACKSTONE'S _Commentaries; A Tale of the Witches_ (STONE); LECKY'S _Rationalism in Europe; The Witch Persecutions_ (BURR); Encyc. Articles ("Witchcraft"): _Britannica, Americana, International, Chambers', Johnson's; Connecticut: Origin of her Courts and Laws_ (HAMERSLEY); BARBER'S _Connecticut Historical Collections_; SCHENCK'S _Fairfield; Connecticut as a Colony and State_ (MORGAN et al.); _The House of the Seven Gables_ (HAWTHORNE); LATIMER'S _Salem_; JOHNSTON'S _Nathan Hale; Connecticut History_ (TRUMBULL); UPHAM'S _Salem Witchcraft; Conn. Mag_., Nov., 1899; Dalton's _Justice; Mem. Hist, of Boston; Mem. Hist, of Hartford County_; Palfrey's _New England; Historic Towns of New England_ (Latimer); _Giles Corey of the Salem Farms_ (Longfellow); _New France and New England_ (Fiske); Scott's _Demonology and Witchcraft_; Lowell's "Witchcraft" (_Among My Books_); Whitmore's _Colonial Laws_; Drake's _Witchcraft Delusion in New England_; Fowler's _Salem Witchcraft_; Hutchinson's _Hist, of Massachusetts Bay_; Larned's _Hist, of Ready Reference_ (Mass.); Howe's _Puritan Republic_; Goodwin's _Pilgrim Republic_; Merejkowski's _Romance of Leonardo da Vinci_; Bulwer's _Last Days of Pompeii_; Weyman's _The Long Night_; Crockett's _The Black Douglas_; Lea's _Hist, of the Inquisition; Scarlet Letter_ (Hawthorne); _A Case of Witchcraft in Connecticut_ (Hoadley); _Witches in Connecticut_ (Bliss); _Historical Discourses_ (Bacon); _History of Wethersfield_ (Stiles); _History of Long Island_ (Thompson), _Witchcraft in Boston_ (Poole); _Literature of Witchcraft in New England_ (Winsor); _Witchcraft and Second Sight in the Scottish Highlands_ (Campbell); _Witch-hunter in the Bookshops_ (Burr); _Epidemic Delusions_ (Carpenter); _History of New England_ (Neal); _History of Colonization of U.S._ (Bancroft); _Salem Witchcraft_ (Fowler); Bouvier's _Law Dic.; Witchcraft in Connecticut_ (Livermore); _Witchcraft in Salem Village_, 1692 (Nevins); _History of Stratford and Bridgeport_ (Orcutt); _Bench and Bar_ (Adams); Conway's _Demonology and Devil-lore; Domestic and Social Life in Colonial Times_ (Warner); _Nat. Mag._ Nov. 15, 1891. INDEX A Allyn, John 44, 51-56, 65-67, 71, 84, 106, 109, 117 Allyn, Thomas 148 Ashley, Jonathan 117 Austen, Thomas 103 Ayres, Goody 152, 157 Ayres, William 152 B Baldwin, Goodwife 133, 137 Ball, Allen 94 Bankes, John 126 Barlow, Goodwife 135 Barlow, John 65 Barnard, Bartholomew 117 Barnes, Mary 152, 157 Bassett, Goody 130, 148, 156 Bates, Sarah 104 Bayley, Goodwife 149, 156 Bayley, Nicholas 149, 156 Belden, Samuel 51 Bell, Jonathan 44, 105-107, 110, 113 Benham, Winifred, Jr. and Sr. 155, 157 Benit, Elizabeth 67, 70 Benit, Thomas 67, 71 Benit, Thomas, Jr. 70 Birdsall, Goody 120 Bishop, Bridgett ix Bishop, Ebenezer 108 Bishop, Edward ix Bowman, Nathanael 117 Bracy, Thomas 49 Branch, Catherine 65, 103-104, 108-116 Brewster, Elizabeth 131 Brewster, Mary 132 Brundish, Bethia 134 Bryan, Ensign 126, 129 Bulkeley, Rev. Gershom 57 Bull, Joseph 117 Burr, Abigail 43 Burr, John 110, 119 Burr, Sarah 43 Buxstum, Clement 113 C Carrington, Joan 38, 145, 147, 156 Carrington, John vii, 38, 145, 147, 156 Carter, Dr. Samuel T. 159 Chester, Stephen 117 Clarke, Mr. 38, 148 Clarke, Henry 50, 52, 53 Clarke, William 51 Clawson, Elizabeth 44, 63, 101-116, 154, 157 Clawson, Stephen 101 Cole, Ann 97 Collins, Samuel 117 Comstock, Christopher 133 Corey, Giles 15, 27 Corwin, George ix Corwin, Jonathan 27 Cross, Abigail 104 Cross, Nathanael 104 Crotia, Hugh viii, 117-119, 155, 157 Cullick, Mr. 38, 56, 148 D Davenport, Rev. John 85, 122, 125-128 Davis, Goody 120 Desborough, Nicholas 153, 157 Dickinson, Joseph 50 Disborough, Mercy 15, 44, 62-78, 154, 157 Disborough, Thomas 63, 65 Duning, Benjamin 65 E Eaton, Theophilus 85, 125 Edwards, Goody 120 Edwards, Jonathan 158 Eliot, Joseph 76, 78 F Finch, Abraham 107 Fowler, William 125, 138 Francis, Joane 53 Fyler, Walt. 85 G Gardiner, Lion 119 Garlick, Elizabeth 119-121, 150, 156 Garlick, Joshua 119 Garney, Joseph 101 Garrett, Daniel 80 Garrett, Margaret 80 Gedney, Bartholomew 27 Gibbons, William 117 Gilbert, Lydia 148, 156 Gillett, Cornelius 117 Godfree, Ann 70 Godman, Elizabeth 85-96, 149, 156 Gold, Nathan 110, 119 Goodyear, Stephen 85-89, 92, 93 Gould, Goodwife 139 Grant, Matthew 146-147 Graves, John 52 Greensmith, Nathaniel 96-100, 151, 156 Greensmith, Rebecca 96-100, 151, 156 Grey, Henry 68, 69, 70 Griswold, Edward 38 Griswold, Michael 59 Grummon, John 70 H Hale, Mary 54 Halliberch, Thomas 66 Hand, Goody 121 Harrison, Katherine 47-61, 153, 157 Hart, Stephen 38, 81 Harvey, Hannah 115, 154, 157 Harvey, Mary 154, 157 Hathorne, John 27 Haynes, John 38, 97, 98, 147 Heyden, Daniel 117 Hollister, Mr. 38 Holly, Samuel 109 Hooker, Thomas 162 Hopkins, Edward 38, 147 Hopkins, Matthew 21 Howard, Abigail 43 Howell, Goodwife 119 Hubbard, Elizabeth ix Hull, Rebecca 133 Hull, Cornelius 133 J Jennings, Margaret 150, 156 Jennings, Nicholas 150, 156 Jesop, Edward 63 Joanes, William 117 Johnson, Jacob 53 Johnson, Mary 35, 143, 144, 156 Jones, Martha 35 Jones, William 40 Judd, Theo. 38 K Kecham, Sarah 103 Kelsey, Stephen 117 Knapp, Goodwife 109, 122-141, 156, 176 L Lamberton, Desire 93 Lamberton, Elizabeth 86, 90 Lamberton, Hannah 86, 90 Langton, Joseph 117 Leawis, Will. 38 Leete, William 47, 125 Lewis, Mercy ix Lockwood, Deborah 133 Lockwood, Robert 132 Lockwood, Susan 124, 131, 132, 136, 138 Loomis, Jonathan 117 Loomis, Nathanael 117 Ludlow, Roger 123, 125-129, 161-163 Lyon, Thomas 136, 138 M Mansfield, Moses 117 Marsh, John 117 Mason, John 47 Mather, Cotton 28-34, 153 Meaker, William 149, 156 Migat, Mrs. 82 Miller, Goody 154, 157 Milton, Daniel 38 More, John 38 Montague, Richard 51 Mullener, Thomas 149 Mygatt, Joseph 117 N Newell, Samuel 117 Newton, Thomas 27 North, Joseph 117 Norton 155, 157 O Odell, Goodwife 124, 131, 135 P Palmer, Katherine 157 Pantry, John 117 Pell, Luce 124, 130, 135, 138 Penoir, Lydia 112 Phelps, Abraham 117 Phelps, Mr. 38 Pitkin, William 78, 117 Pratt, Daniel 81 Pratt, John 38 Purdy, Goodwife 124, 135 Putnam, Ann ix, 30 R Renels, John 141 Richards, John 27 Russel, William 120 S Saltonstall, Nathl. 27 Sanford, Andrew 151, 157 Sanford, Mary 151, 156 Seager, Elizabeth 80-85, 152, 157 Selleck, David 108, 114 Selleck, Jonathan 106, 107, 110, 116 Sergeant, Peter 27 Sewall, Samuel 27 Shervington, Thomas 133, 138 Sherwood, Isaac 64 Sherwood, Mistress Thomas 124, 128, 135, 139 Slawson, Elezer 113 Smith, Elizabeth 56 Smith, Philip 51 Smith, Samuel 38, 50, 52, 53, 66 Spencer, Sarah 155, 157 Stanly, Caleb 117 Stanly, Nath. 78, 117 Staplies, Mary 125-141, 154, 157 Staplies, Thomas 125, 126 Steele, James 117 Sterne, Robert 81, 84 Stiles, Henry 148 Stirg, Joseph 66 Stoughton, John 117 Stoughton, William 27, ix T Tailecote, Mr. 38 Tash, John 140, 141 Tompson, J. 129, 135 Treat, Robert 48, 62, 117 Trumbull, J. Hammond v V Varlett, Judith 151, 157 W Wadsworth, Joseph 117 Wakely, James 50 Wakeman, Sarah 43 Walcott, Mary ix Walkley, James 153, 157 Ward, Andrew 134 Ward, Hester 129, 136 Ward, Thomas 117 Webster, Mr. 38 Wells, Mr. 38, 129 Wells, Hugh 49 Wescot, Abigail 106, 112 Wescot, Daniel 101-116 White, John 38 Whiting, Rev. John 96, 97 Whitlock, Goodwife 134 Wiat, Nath. 102 Willard, Josiah 81 Williams, Abigail ix Williams, William 117 Willis, Samuel 78, 117 Wilson, Hannah 43 Wilton, David 51 Winthrop, John 35, 47, 143 Winthrop, Wait 27 Woodbridge, Rev. Timothy 76, 78 Woolcott, Mr. 38 Y Young, Alse 35, 145-147, 156 
32176	----	http://www.archive.org/details/witchstories00lintrich WITCH STORIES Collected by E. LYNN LINTON, Author of "Azeth the Egyptian," "Amymone," Etc. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."--EXODUS XXII. 18. London: Chapman and Hall, 193 Piccadilly. 1861. [_The right of Translation reserved._] London: Printed By W. Clowes and Sons, Stamford Street. PREFACE. In offering the following collection of witch stories to the public, I do not profess to have exhausted the subject, or to have made so complete a summary as I might have done, had I been admitted into certain private libraries, which contain, I believe, many concealed riches. But I had no means of introduction to them, and was obliged to be content with such authorities as I found in the British Museum, and the other public libraries to which I had access. I do not think that I have left much untold; but there must be, scattered about England, old MSS. and unique copies of records concerning which I can find only meagre allusions, or the mere names of the victims, without a distinctive fact to mark their special history. Should this book come to a second edition, any help from the possessors of these hitherto unpublished documents would be a gain to the public, and a privilege which I trust may be afforded me. Neither have I attempted to enter into the philosophy of the subject. It is far too wide and deep to be discussed in a few hasty words; and to sift such evidence as is left us--to determine what was fraud, what self-deception, what actual disease, and what the exaggeration of the narrator--would have swelled my book into a far more important and bulky work than I intended or wished. As a general rule, I think we may apply all the four conditions to every case reported; in what proportion, each reader must judge for himself. Those who believe in direct and personal intercourse between the spirit-world and man, will probably accept every account with the unquestioning belief of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; those who have faith in the calm and uniform operations of nature, will hold chiefly to the doctrine of fraud; those who have seen much of disease and that strange condition called "mesmerism," or "sensitiveness," will allow the presence of absolute nervous derangement, mixed up with a vast amount of conscious deception, which the insane credulity and marvellous ignorance of the time rendered easy to practise; and those who have been accustomed to sift evidence and examine witnesses, will be utterly dissatisfied with the loose statements and wild distortion of every instance on record. E. LYNN LINTON. _London_, 1861. The Witches of Scotland Scotland was always foremost in superstition. Her wild hills and lonely fells seemed the fit haunting-places for all mysterious powers; and long after spirits had fled, and ghosts had been laid in the level plains of the South, they were to be found lingering about the glens and glades of Scotland. Very little of graceful fancy lighted up the gloom of those popular superstitions. Even Elfame, or Faërie, was a place of dread and anguish, where the devil ruled heavy-handed and Hell claimed its yearly tithe, rather than the home of fun and beauty and petulant gaiety as with other nations: and the beautiful White Ladies, like the German Elle-women, had more of bale than bliss as their portion to scatter among the sons of men. Spirits like the goblin Gilpin Horner, full of malice and unholy cunning,--like grewsome brownies, at times unutterably terrific, at times grotesque and rude, but then more satyr-like than elfish,--like May Moulachs, lean and hairy-armed, watching over the fortunes of a family, but prophetic only of woe, not of weal,--like the cruel Kelpie, hiding behind the river sedges to rush out on unwary passers-by, and strangle them beneath the waters,--like the unsained laidly Elf, who came tempting Christian women, to their souls' eternal perdition if they yielded to the desires of their bodies,--like the fatal Banshie, harbinger of death and ruin,--were the popular forms of the Scottish spirit-world; and in none of them do we find either love or gentleness, but only fierceness and crime, enmity to man and rebellion to God. But saddest and darkest and unholiest of all was the belief in witchcraft, which infested society for centuries like a sore eating through to the very heart of humanity, and which was nowhere more bitter and destructive than among the godly children of our Northern sister. Strange that the land of the Lord should have been the favourite camping-ground of Satan, that the hill of Zion should have had its roots in the depths of Tophet! The formulas of the faith were as gloomy as the persons. The power of the evil eye; the faculty of second sight, which always saw the hearse plumes, and never the bridal roses; the supremacy of the devil in this God-governed world of ours, and the actual and practical covenant into which men and women daily entered with him; the unlimited influence of the curse, and the sin and mischief to be wrought by charm and spell; the power of casting sickness on whomsoever one would, and the ease with which a blight could be sent on the corn, and a murrain to the beasts, by those who had not wherewithal to stay their hunger for a day, these were the chief signs of that fatal power with which Satan endowed his chosen ones--those silly, luckless chapmen who bartered away their immortal souls for no mess of pottage even, and no earthly good to breath or body, but only that they might harm their neighbours and revenge themselves on those who crossed them. Sometimes, indeed, they had no need to chaffer with the devil for such faculties: as in the matter of the evil eye; for Kirk, of Aberfoyle, tells us that "some are of so venomous a Constitution, by being radiated in Envy and Malice, that they pierce and kill (like a Cockatrice) whatever Creature they first set their Eyes on in the Morning: so was it with Walter Grahame, some Time living in the Parock wherein now I am, who killed his own Cow after commending its Fatness, and shot a Hair with his Eyes, having praised its Swiftness (such was the Infection of ane Evill Eye); albeit this was unusual, yet he saw no Object but what was obvious to other Men as well as to himselfe." And a certain woman looking over the door of a byre or cowhouse, where a neighbour sat milking, shot the calf dead and dried up and sickened the cow, "by the venomous glance of her evill eye." But perhaps she had got that venom by covenant with the devil; for this was one of the prescriptive possessions of a witch, and ever the first dole from the Satanic treasury. When Janet Irving was brought to trial (1616) for unholy dealings with the foul fiend, it was proved--for was it not sworn to? and that was quite sufficient legal proof in all witchcraft cases--that he had told her "yf schoe bure ill-will to onie bodie, to look on them with opin eyis, and pray evill for thame in his name, and schoe sould get hir hartis desyre;" and in almost every witch trial in Scotland the "evil eye" formed part of the counts of indictment against the accused. The curse was as efficacious. Did a foul-mouthed old dame give a neighbour a handful of words more forcible than courteous, and did terror, or revenge, induce, or simulate, a nervous seizure in consequence, the old dame was at once carried off to the lock-up, and but few chances of escape lay between her and the stake beyond. To be skilful in healing, too, was just as dangerous as to be powerful in sickening; and to the godly and unclean of the period all sorts of devilish cantrips lay in "south-running waters" and herb drinks, and salves made of simples; while the use of bored stones, of prayers said thrice or backwards, of "mwildis" powders, or any other more patent form of witchcraft, though it might restore the sick to health, yet was fatally sure to land the user thereof at the foot of the gallows, and the testimony of the healed friend was the strongest strand in the hangman's cord. This, indeed, was the saddest feature in the whole matter--the total want of all gratitude, reliance, trustiness, or affection between a "witch" and her friends. The dearest intimate she had gave evidence against her frankly, and without a second thought of the long years of mutual help and kindliness that had gone before; the neighbour whom she had nursed night and day with all imaginable tenderness and self-devotion, if he took a craze and dreamed of witchcraft, came forward to distort and exaggerate every remedy she had used, and every art she had employed; her very children turned against her without pity or remorse, and little lips, scarce dry from the milk of her own breasts, lisped out the glibbest lies of all. Most pitiful, most sad, was the state of these poor wretches; but instructive to us, as evidencing the strength of superstition, and the weakness of every human virtue when brought into contact and collision with it. What other gifts and powers belonged to the witches will be best gathered from the stories themselves; for varied as they are, there is a strange thread of likeness running through them all; specially is there a likeness in all of a time or district, as might be expected in a matter which belonged so much to mere imitation. Scotland played an unenviable part in the great witch panic that swept like an epidemic over Europe during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It suited with the stern, uncompromising, Puritan temper, to tear this accursed thing from the heart of the nation, and offer it, bleeding and palpitating, as a sacrifice to the Lord; and accordingly we find the witch trials of Scotland conducted with more severity than elsewhere, and with a more gloomy and savage fanaticism of faith. Those who dared question the truth of even the most unreliable witnesses and the most monstrous statements were accused of atheism and infidelity--they were Sadducees and sinners--men given over to corruption and uncleanness, with whom no righteous servant could hold any terms. And then the ministers mingled themselves in the fray; and the Kirk like the Church, the presbyter like the priest, proved to be on the side of intolerance and superstition, where, unfortunately, priests of all creeds have ever been. And when James VI. came with his narrow brain and selfish heart, to formularize the witch-lie into a distinct canon of arbitrary faith, and give it increased political significance and social power, the reign of humanity and common sense was at an end, and the autocracy of cruelty and superstition began. It is a dreary page in human history; but so long as a spark of superstition lingers in the world it will have its special and direct uses. The first time we hear of Scottish witches was when St. Patrick offended them and the devil alike by his uncompromising rigour against them: so they tore off a piece of a rock as he was crossing the sea and hurled it after him; which rock became the fortress of Dumbarton in the days which knew not St. Patrick. Then there was the story of King Duff (968), who pined away in mortal sickness, by reason of the waxen image which had been made to destroy him; but by the fortunate discovery of a young maiden who could not bear torture silently, he was enabled to find the witches--whom he burnt at Forres in Murray, the mother of the poor maiden who could not bear torture among them: enabled, too, to save himself by breaking the wasting waxen image roasting at the "soft" fire, when almost at its last turn. Then we come to Thomas of Ercildoune, whom the Queen of Faërie loved and kept; and then to Sir Michael Scot of Balweary, that famous wizard, second to none in power; while a little further removed from those legendary times we see the dark figure of William Lord Soulis, who was boiled to death at Nine Stane Brig, in fitting punishment for his crimes. And then in 1479 twelve mean women and several wizards were burnt at Edinburgh for roasting the king in wax, and so endangering the life of the sovereign liege in a manner which no human aid could remedy; and the Earl of Mar was at their head, and very properly burnt too. And in 1480 Incubi and Succubi held the land between them, and even the young lady of Mar gave herself up to the embraces of an Incubus--a hideous monster, utterly loathsome and deadly to behold; and if the young ladies of the nobility could do such things, what might not be expected from the commonalty? But now we come out into the light of written history, and the first corpse lying on the threshold is that of the beautiful Lady Glammis (1537). THE STORY OF LADY GLAMMIS[1] One of the earliest, as she was one of the noblest, victims of this delusion, politics and jealousy had as much to do with her death as had superstition. Because she was "one of the Douglases," and not because she was convicted as a sorceress, did William Lyon find her so easy a victim to his hate. For it was he--the near relative of her first husband, "Cleanse the Causey" John Lyon, Lord Glammis,--who ruined her, and brought her young days to so shameful an end. And had he not cause? Did she not reject him when left a widow, young and beautiful as but few were to be found in all the Scottish land? and, rejecting him, did she not favour Archibald Campbell of Kessneath instead, and make over to him the lands and the beauties he had coveted for himself, even during the life of that puling relative of his, "Cleanse the Causey"? Matter enough for revenge in this, thought William Lyon: and the revenge he took came easy to his hand, and in fullest measure. For Lady Glammis, daughter of George, Master of Angus, and grand-daughter of that brave old savage, Archibald Bell-the-Cat, was in no great favour with a court which had disgraced her grandfather, and banished her brother; and consequently she found no protection there from the man who was seeking her ruin. Perhaps, too, she had mixed herself up with the court feuds and parties then so common, and thus had given some positive cause of offence to a government which must crush if it would not be crushed, and extirpate if it would not be destroyed. Be that as it may, William Lyon soon gathered material for an accusation, and Lady Glammis found that if she would not have his love he would have her life. She was accused on various counts; for having procured the death of her first husband by "intoxication," or unholy drugging, for a design to poison the king, and for witchcraft generally, as a matter of daily life and open notoriety; and for these crimes she was burnt, notwithstanding her beauty and wealth and innocence and high-hearted bravery, notwithstanding her popularity--for she was beloved by all who knew her--and the honour of her stainless name. And once more, as so often, hatred conquered love, and the innocent died that the guilty might be at rest. I must omit any lengthened notice of the trial of Janet Bowman in 1572, as also of that of a notable witch Nicneven, which name, "generally given to the Queen of the Fairies, was probably bestowed upon her on account of her crimes, and who, when 'her collore craig with stringis whairon wes mony knottis' was taken from her, gave way to despair, exclaiming, 'Now I have no hoip of myself,' saying, too, that 'she cared not whether she went to heaven or to hell.'" The Record has preserved nothing beyond the mere fact of the first, while the foregoing extract is all that I can find of the second; so that I am obliged to pass on to the pitiful tale of-- BESSIE DUNLOP AND THOM REID.[2] Poor douce honest Bessie Dunlop, spouse to Andro Jak in Lyne, deposed, after torture, on the 8th day of November, 1576, that one day, as she was going quietly enough between her own house and Monkcastle yard, "makeand hevye sair dule with hirself," weeping bitterly for her cow that was dead, and her husband and child who were lying "sick in the land-ill," she herself still weak after gissane, or child-birth, she met "ane honest, wele, elderlie man, gray bairdit, and had ane gray coitt with Lumbart slevis of the auld fassoun; ane pair of gray brekis and quhyte schankis gartanit abone the kne; ane blak bonet on his heid, cloise behind and plane befoir, with silkin laissis drawin throw the lippis thairof; and ane quhyte wand in his hand." This was Thom Reid, who had been killed at the battle of Pinkye (1547), but was now a dweller in Elfame, or Fairy Land. Thom stopped her, saying, "Gude day, Bessie." "God speid yow, gude man," says she. "Sancta Marie," says he, "Bessie, quhy makis thow sa grit dule and sair greting for ony wardlie thing?" Bessie told him her troubles, poor woman, and the little old gray-bearded man consoled her by assuring her that though her cow and her child should die, yet her husband would recover; and Bessie, after being "sumthing fleit" at seeing him pass through a hole in the dyke too narrow for any honest mortal to pass through, yet returned home, comforted to think that the gude man would mend. After this, she and Thom foregathered several times. At the third interview he wanted her to deny her baptism, but honest Bessie said that she would rather be "revin at horis taillis" (riven at horses' tails); and on the fourth he came to her own house, and took her clean away from the presence of her husband and three tailors--they seeing nothing--to where an assemblage of eight women and four men were waiting for her. "The men wer cled in gentilmennes clething, and the wemens had all plaidis round about them, and wer verrie semelie lyke to se." They were the "gude wychtis that wynnit (dwelt) in the court of Elfame," and they had come to persuade her to go back to fairy-land with them, where she should have meat and clothing, and be richly dowered in all things. But Bessie refused. Poor crazed Bessie had a loyal heart if but a silly head, and preferred her husband and children to all the substantial pleasures of Elfame, though Thom was angry with her for refusing, and told her "it would be worse for her." Once, too, the queen of the fairies, a stout, comely woman, came to her, as she was "lying in gissane," and asked for a drink, which Bessie gave her. Sitting on her bed, she said that the child would die, but that the husband would recover; for Andro Jak seems to have been but an ailing body, often like to find out the Great Mysteries for himself, and Bessie was never quite easy about him. Then Thom began to teach her the art of healing. He gave her roots to make into salves and powders for kow or yow (cow or sheep), or for "ane bairne that was tane away with ane evill blast of wind or elfgrippit:" and she cured many people by the old man's fairy teaching. She healed Lady Johnstone's daughter, married to the young Laird of Stanelie, by giving her a drink brewed under Thom's auspices, namely, strong ale boiled with cloves, ginger, aniseed, liquorice, and white sugar, which warmed the "cauld blude that gaed about hir hart, that causit hir to dwam and vigous away," or, as we would say, to swoon. And she cured John Jake's bairn, and Wilson's of the town, and her gudeman's sister's cow; but old Lady Kilbowye's leg was beyond them both. It had been crooked all her life, and now Thom said it would never mend, because "the march of the bane was consumit, and the blude dosinit" (the marrow was consumed, and the blood benumbed). It was hopeless, and it would be worse for her if she asked for fairy help again. Bessie got fame too as a "monthly" of Lyne. A green silk lace, received from Thom's own hand, tacked to their "wylie coitts" and knit about their left arms, helped much in the delivery of women. She lost the lace, insinuating that Thom took it away again, but kept her fatal character for more medical skill than belonged to an ordinary canny old wife. In the recovery of stolen goods, too, she was effective, and what she could not find she could at least indicate. Thus, she told the seekers that Hugh Scott's cloak could not be returned, because it had been made into a kirtle, and that James Baird and Henry Jameson would not recover their plough irons, because James Douglas, the sheriff's officer, had accepted a bribe of three pounds not to find them. Lady Blair having "dang and wrackit" her servants on account of certain linen which had been stolen from her, learnt from Bessie, prompted by Thom, that the thief was no other than Margaret Symple, her own friend and relation, and that she had dang and wrackit innocent persons to no avail. Bessie never allowed that Thom's intercourse with her was other than honest and well conducted. Once only he took hold of her apron to drag her away to Elfame with him; but this was more in the way of persuasion than love making, and she indignantly denied the home questions put to her by the judges with but scant delicacy or feeling for an honest woman's shame. Interrogated, she said that she often saw Thom going about like other men. He would be in the streets of Edinburgh, on market days and other, handling goods like any living body, but she never spoke to him unless he spoke first to her: he had forbidden her to do so. The last time she met him before her arrest he told her of the evil that was to come, but buoyed her up with false hopes, assuring her that she would be well treated, and eventually cleared. Poor Bessie Dunlop! After being cruelly tortured, her not very strong brain was utterly disorganized, and she confessed whatever they chose to tax her with, rambling through her wild dreamy narrative with strange facility of imagination, and with more coherence and likelihood, than are to be found in those who came after her. Adjudged as "confessit and fylit," she was "convict and brynt" on the Castle Hill of Edinburgh--a mournful commentary on her elfin friend's brave words and promises. ALISON PEARSON AND THE FAIRY FOLK.[3] On the 28th of May, 1588, Alesoun Peirsoun, in Byrehill, was haled before a just judge and sapient jury on the charge of witchcraft, and seven years' consorting with the fairy folk. This Alesoun Peirsoun, or, as we should now write it, Alison Pearson, had a certain cousin, one William Simpson, a clever doctor, who had been educated in Egypt; taken there by a man of Egypt, "ane gyant," who, it is to be supposed, taught him many of the secrets of nature then hidden from the vulgar world. During his absence, his father, who was smith to king's majesty, died for opening of "ane preist-buik and luking vpoune it:" which showed the tendency of the family. When Mr. William came back he found Alison afflicted with many diseases, powerless in hand and foot, and otherwise evilly holden; and he cured her, being a skilful man and a kindly, and ever after obtained unlimited influence over the brain and imagination of his crazed cousin. He abused this influence by taking her with him to fairy land, and introducing her to the "gude wychtis," whose company he had affected for many years. In especial was she much linked with the Queen of Elfame, who might have helped her, had she been so minded. One day being sick in Grange Muir, she lay down there alone, when a man in green suddenly appeared to her and said that if she would be faithful he would do her good. She cried for help, and then charged him in God's name, and by the law he lived on, that if he came in God's name and for the welfare of her soul, he would tell her. He passed away on this, and soon after a lusty man, and many other men and women came to her, and she passed away with them further than she could tell; but not before she had "sanit," or blessed herself and prayed. And then she saw piping, and merriness, and good cheer, and puncheons of wine with "tassis," or cups to them. But the fairy folk were not kind to Alison. They tormented her sorely, and treated her with great harshness, knocking her about and beating her so that they took all the "poustie," or power out of her side with one of their heavy "straiks," and left her covered with bruises, blue and evil-favoured. She was never free from her questionable associates, who used to come upon her at all times and initiate her into their secrets, whether she liked it or no. They showed her how they gathered their herbs before sunrise, and she would watch them with their pans and fires making the "saws" or salves that could kill or cure all who used them, according to the witches' will; and they used to come and sit by her, and once took all the "poustie" from her for twenty weeks. Mr. William was then with them. He was a young man, not six years older than herself, and she would "feir" (be afraid) when she saw him. What with fairy teaching, and Mr. William's clinical lectures, half-crazed Alison soon got a reputation for healing powers; so great, indeed, that the Bishop of St. Andrews, a wretched hypochondriac, with as many diseases as would fill half the wards of an hospital, applied to her for some of her charms and remedies, which she had sense enough to make palateable, and such as should suit episcopal tastes: namely, spiced claret (a quart to be drunk at two draughts), and boiled capon as the internal remedies, with some fairy salve for outward application. It scarcely needed a long apprenticeship in witchcraft to prescribe claret and capon for a luxurious prelate who had brought himself into a state of chronic dyspepsia by laziness and high living; yet the jury thought the recipe of such profound wisdom that Alison got badly off on its account. Mr. William was very careful of Alison. He used to go before the fairy folk when they set out on the whirlwinds to plague her--"for they are ever in the blowing sea-wind," said Allie--and tell her of their coming; and he was very urgent that she should not go away with them altogether, since a tithe of them was yearly taken down to hell, and converts had always first chance. But many people known to her on earth were at Elfame. She said that she recognized Mr. Secretary Lethington, and the old Knight of Buccleugh, as of the party; which was equivalent to putting them out of heaven, and was a grievous libel, as the times went. Neither Mr. William's care nor fairy power could save poor Alison. After being "wirreit (strangled) at ane staik," she was "conuicta et combusta," never more to be troubled by epilepsy or the feverish dreams of madness. THE CRIMES OF LADY FOWLIS.[4] Nobler names come next upon the records. Katherine Roiss, Lady Fowlis, and her stepson, Hector Munro, were tried on the 22nd of June, 1590, for "witchcraft, incantation, sorcery, and poisoning." Two people were in the lady's way: Margery Campbell the young lady of Balnagown, wife to George Roiss or Ross of Balnagown, Lady Katherine's brother; and Robert Munro her stepson, the present baron of Fowlis, and brother to the Hector Munro above mentioned. If these two persons were dead, then George Ross could marry the young Lady Fowlis, to the pecuniary advantage of himself and the family. Hector's quarrel was on his own account, and was with George Munro of Obisdale, Lady Katherine's eldest son. The charges against the Lady Katherine were, the unlawful making of two pictures or images of clay, representing the young lady of Balnagown and Robert Munro, which pictures two notorious witches, Christian Ross and Marioune M'Alester, _alias_ Loskie Loncart, set up in a chamber and shot at with elf arrows--ancient spear or arrow-heads, found in Scotland and Ireland, and of great account in all matters of witchcraft. But the images of clay were not broken by the arrow-heads, for all that they shot eight times at them, and twelve times on a subsequent trial, and thus the spell was destroyed for the moment; but Loskie Loncart had orders to make more, which she did with a will. After this the lady and her two confederates brewed a stoup or pailful of poison in the barn at Drumnyne, which was to be sent to Robert Munro. The pail leaked and the poison ran out, except a very small quantity which an unfortunate page belonging to the lady tasted, and "lay continewallie thaireftir poysonit with the liquour." Again, another "pig" or jar of poison was prepared; this time of double strength--the brewer thereof that old sinner, Loskie Loncart, who had a hand in every evil pie made. This was sent to the young laird by the hands of Lady Katherine's foster-mother; but she broke the "pig" by the way, and, like the page, tasting the contents, paid the penalty of her curiosity with her life. The poison was of such a virulent nature that nor cow nor sheep would touch the grass whereon it fell; and soon the herbage withered away in fearful memorial of that deed of guilt. She was more successful in her attempts on the young Lady Balnagown. Her "dittay" sets forth that the poor girl, tasting of her sister-in-law's infernal potions, contracted an incurable disease, the pain and anguish she suffered revolting even the wretch who administered the poison, Catherine Niven, who "scunnerit (revolted) with it sae meikle, that she said it was the sairest and maist cruel sight that ever she saw." But she did not die. Youth and life were strong in her, and conquered even malice and poison--conquered even the fiendish determination of the lady, "that she would do, by all kind of means, wherever it might be had, of God in heaven, or the devil in hell, for the destruction and down-putting of Marjory Campbell." Nothing daunted, the lady sent far and wide, and now openly, for various poisons; consulting with "Egyptians" and notorious witches as to what would best "suit the complexion" of her victims, and whether the ratsbane, which was a favourite medicine with her, should be administered in eggs, broth, or cabbage. She paid many sums, too, for clay images, and elf arrows wherewith to shoot at them, and her wickedness at last grew too patent for even her exalted rank to overshadow. She was arrested and arraigned, but the private prosecutor was Hector Munro, who was soon to change his place of advocate for that of "pannel;" and the jury was composed of the Fowlis dependents. So she was acquitted; though many of her creatures had previously been convicted and burnt on the same charges as those now made against her; notably Cristiane Roiss, who, confessing to the clay image and the elf arrows, was quietly burnt for the same. Hector Munro's trial was of a somewhat different character. His stepmother does not seem to have had much confidence in mere sorcery: she put her faith in facts rather than in incantations, and preferred drugs to charms: but Hector was more superstitious and more cowardly too. In 1588, he had communed with three notorious witches for the recovery of his elder brother, Robert; and the witches had "pollit the hair of Robert Munro, and plet the naillis of his fingeris and taes;" but Robert had died in spite of these charms, and now Hector was the chief man of his family. Parings of nails, clippings of hair, water wherein enchanted stones had been laid, black Pater-Nosters, banned plaids and cloths, were all of as much potency in his mind as the "ratoun poysoun" so dear to the lady; and the method of his intended murder rested on such means as these. They made a goodly pair between them, and embodied a fair proportion of the intelligence and morality of the time. After a small piece of preliminary sorcery, undertaken with his foster-mother, Cristiane Neill Dayzell, and Mariaoune M'Ingareach, "one of the most notorious and rank witches of the country," it was pronounced that Hector, who was sick, would not recover, unless the principal man of his blood should suffer for him. This was found to be none other than George Munro, of Obisdale, Lady Katherine's eldest son, whose life must be given that Hector's might be redeemed. George, then, must die; not by poison but by sorcery; and the first step to be taken was to secure his presence by Hector's bedside. "Sewin poistes" or messengers did the invalid impatiently send to him; and when he came at last, Hector said never a word to him, after his surly "Better now that you have come," in answer to his half-brother's unsuspecting "How's a' wi' ye?" but sat for a full hour with his left hand in George's right, working the first spell in silence, according to the directions of his foster-mother and the witch. That night, an hour after midnight, the two women went to a "piece of ground lying between two manors," and there made a grave of Hector's length, near to the sea-flood. A few nights after this--and it was January, too--Hector, wrapped in blankets, was carried out of his sick bed, and laid in this grave; he, his foster-mother, and M'Ingareach all silent as death, until Cristiane should have gotten speech with their master, the devil. The sods were then laid over the laird, and the witch M'Ingareach sat down by him, while Cristiane Dayzell, with a young boy in her hand, ran the breadth of nine rigs or furrows, coming back to the grave, to ask the witch "who was her choice." M'Ingareach, prompted of course by the devil, answered that "Mr. Hector was her choice to live and his brother George to die for him." This ceremony was repeated thrice, and then they all returned silently to the house, Mr. Hector carried in his blankets as before. The strangest thing of all was that Mr. Hector was not killed by the ceremony. Hector Munro was now convinced that everything possible had been done, and that his half-brother must perforce be his sacrifice. In his gratitude he made M'Ingareach keeper of his sheep, and so uplifted her that the common people durst not oppose her for their lives. It was the public talk that he favoured her "gif she had been his own wife;" and once he kept her out of the way "at his own charges," when she was cited to appear before the court to answer to the crime of witchcraft. But in spite of the tremendous evidence against him, Hector got clear off, as his stepmother had done before him, and we hear no more of the Fowlis follies and the Fowlis crimes. Nothing but their rank and the fear of the low people saved them. Slighter crimes than theirs, and on more slender evidence, had been sufficient cause for condemnation ere now; and Lady Katherine's poisonings, and Hector Munro's incantations, would have met with the fate the one at least deserved, save for the power and aid of clanship. BESSIE ROY. The month after this trial, Bessie Roy, nurreych (nurse) to the Leslies of Balquhain, was "dilatit" for sorcery generally, and specially for being "a common awa-taker of women's milk." She took away poor Bessie Steel's, when she came to ask alms, and only restored it again when she was afraid of getting into trouble for the fault. She was also accused of having, "by the space of tual yeiris syne or thairby," past to the field with other women to pluck lint, but instead of following her lawful occupation, she had made "ane compas (circle) in the eird, and ane hoill in the middis thairof;" out of which hole came, first, a great worm which crept over the boundary, then a little worm, which crept over it also, and last of all another great worm, "quhill could nocht pas owre the compas, nor cum out of the hoill, but fell doune and deit." Which enchantment or sorcery being interpreted meant, by the first worm, William King, who should live; by the second small worm, the unborn babe, of which no one yet knew the coming life; and by the third large worm the gude wyffe herself, who should die as soon as she was delivered. Notwithstanding the gravity and circumstantiality of these charges, Bessie Roy marvellously escaped the allotted doom, and was pronounced innocent. "Quhairvpoune the said Bessie askit act and instrument." Two women tried the day before, Jonet Grant and Jonet Clark, were less fortunate. Charged with laming men and women by their devilish arts--whereof was no attempt at proof--they were convicted and burnt; as also was Meg Dow, in April of the same year, for the "crewell murdreissing of twa young infant bairns," by magic. And now we come to a very singular group of trials, opened out by that clumsy, superstitious pedant, whose name stands accursed for vice and cruel cowardice and the utmost selfishness of fear--James VI. of Scotland. If anything were wanting to complete one's abhorrence of Carr's patron and Raleigh's murderer--one's contempt of the upholder of the divine right of kings in his own self-adoration as God's vicegerent upon earth--it would be his part in the witch delusion of the sixteenth century. Whatever of blood-stained folly belonged specially to the Scottish trials of this time--and hereafter--owed its original impulse to him; and every groan of the tortured wretches driven to their fearful doom, and every tear of the survivors left blighted and desolate to drag out their weary days in mingled grief and terror, lie on his memory with shame and condemnation ineffaceable for all time. THE DEVIL'S SECRETARY.[5] On the 26th of December, 1590, John Fian, _alias_ Cuningham (spelt Johanne Feane, _alias_ Cwninghame), master of the school at Saltpans, Lothian, and contemptuously recorded as "Secretar and Register to the Devil," was arraigned for witchcraft and high treason. There were twenty counts against him, the least of which would have been enough to have lighted up a witch-fire on that fatal Castle Hill, for the bravest and best in the land. First, he was accused of entering into a covenant with Satan, who appeared to him in white, as he lay in bed, musing and thinking ("mwsand and pansand," says the dittay in its quaint language) how he should be revenged on Thomas Trumbill, for not having whitewashed his room, according to agreement. After promising his Satanic majesty allegiance and homage, he received his mark, which later was found under his tongue, with two pins therein thrust up to their heads. Again, he was found guilty--"fylit" is the old legal term--of "feigning himself to be sick in the said Thomas Trumbill's chamber, where he was stricken in great ecstacies and trances, lying by the space of two or three hours dead, his spirit taken, and suffered himself to be carried and transported to many mountains, as he thought through all the world, according to his depositions." Note, that these depositions were made in the midst of fearful torture, and recanted the instant after. Also, he was found guilty of suffering himself to be carried to North Berwick church, where, together with many others, he did homage to Satan, as he stood in the pulpit, making doubtful speeches, saying, "Many come to the fair, and all buy not wares;" and desired him "not to fear, though he was grim, for he had many servants who should never want, or ail nothing, so long as their hair was on, and should never let one tear fall from their eyes so long as they served him;" and he gave them lessons, and said, "Spare not to do evil, and to eat and drink and be blithe, taking rest and ease, for he should raise them up at the latter day gloriously." But the pith of the indictment was that he, Fian, and sundry others to be spoken of hereafter, entered into a league with Satan to wreck the king on his way to Denmark, whither, in a fit of clumsy gallantry, he had set out to visit his future queen. While he was sailing to Denmark, Fian and a whole crew of witches and wizards met Satan at sea, and the master, giving an enchanted cat into Robert Grierson's hand, bade him "cast the same into the sea, holà," which was accordingly done; and a pretty capful of wind the consequence. Then, when the king was returning from Denmark, the devil promised to raise a mist which should wreck him on English ground. To perform which feat he took something like a football--it seemed to Dr. Fian like a wisp--and cast it into the sea, whereupon arose the great mist which nearly drove the cumbrous old pedant on to English ground, where our strong-fisted queen would have made him pay for his footing in a manner not quite congenial to his tastes. But, being a Man of God, none of these charms and devilries prevailed against him. A further count was, that once again he consorted with Satan and his crew, still in North Berwick church, where they paced round the church wider shins (wider scheins?), that is, contrary to the way of the sun. Fian blew into the lock--a favourite trick of his--to open the door, and blew in the lights which burned blue, and were like big black candles held in an old man's hand round about the pulpit. Here Satan as a "mekill blak man, with ane blak baird stikand out lyke ane gettis (goat's) baird; and ane hie ribbit neise, falland doun scharp lyke the beik of ane halk; with ane lang rumpill (tail); cled in ane blak tatie goune, and ane ewill favorit scull bonnett on his heid; haifand ane blak buik in his hand," preached to them, commanding them to be good servants to him, and he would be a good master to them, and never let them want. But he made them all very angry by calling Robert Grierson by his Christian name. He ought to have been called "Ro' the Comptroller, or Rob the Rower." This slip of the master's displeased them sorely, and they ran "hirdie girdie" in great excitement, for it was against all etiquette to be named by their earthly names; indeed, they always received new names when the devil gave them their infernal christening, and they made themselves over to him and denied their holy baptism. It was at this meeting that John Fian was specially accused of rifling the graves of the dead, and dismembering their bodies for charms. And many other things did this Secretar and Register to the devil. Once, at the house of David Seaton's mother, he breathed into the hand of a woman sitting by the fire, and opened a lock at the other end of the kitchen. Once he raised up four candles on his horse's two ears, and a fifth on the staff which a man riding with him carried in his hand. These magic candles gave as much light as the sun at noonday, and the man was so terrified that he fell dead on his own threshold. He sent an evil spirit, who tormented a man for twenty weeks; and he was seen to chase a cat, and in the chase to be carried so high over a hedge that he could not touch her head. The dittay says he flew through the air--a not infrequent mode of progression with such people. When asked why he hunted the cat, he said that Satan had need of her, and that he wanted all the cats he could lay hands on, to cast into the sea, and cause storms and shipwrecks. He was further accused of endeavouring to bewitch a young maiden by his devilish cantrips and horrid charms; but, by a wile of the girl's mother, up to men's arts, he practised on a heifer's hairs instead of the girl's, and the result was that a luckless young cow went lowing after him everywhere--even into his school-room--rubbing herself against him, and exhibiting all the languish and desire of a love-sick young lady. A curious old plate represents John Fian and the heifer in grotesque attitudes; the heifer with large, drooping, amorous eyes, intensely ridiculous--the schoolmaster with his magic wand drawing circles in the sand. These, with divers smaller charges, such as casting horoscopes, and wearing modewart's (mole's) feet upon him, amounting in all to twenty counts, formed the sum of the indictment against him. He was put to the torture. First, his head was "thrawed with a rope" for about an hour, but still he would not confess; then they tried fair words and coaxed him, but with no better success; and then they put him to the "most severe and cruell pains in the worlde," namely, the boots, till his legs were completely crushed, and the blood and marrow spouted out. After the third stroke he became speechless; and they, supposing it to be the devil's mark which kept him silent, searched for that mark, that by its discovery the spell might be broken. So they found it, as stated before, under his tongue, with two charmed pins stuck up to their heads therein. When they were drawn out--that is, after some further torture--he confessed anything which it pleased his tormentors to demand of him, saying how, just now, the devil had been to him all in black, but with a white wand in his hand; and how, on his, Fian's, renouncing him, he had brake his wand, and disappeared. The next day he recanted this confession. He was then somewhat restored to himself, and had mastered the weakness of his agony. Whereupon it was assumed that the devil had visited him through the night, and had marked him afresh. They searched him--pulling off every nail with a turkas, or smith's pincers, and then thrusting in needles up to their heads; but finding nothing more satanic than blood and nerves, they put him to worse tortures, as a revenge. He made no other relapse, but remained constant now to the end; bearing his grievous pains with patience and fortitude, and dying as a brave man always knows how to die, whatever the occasion. Finding that nothing more could be made of him, they mercifully came to an end. He was strangled and burnt "in the Castle Hill of Edinbrough, on a Saterdaie, in the ende of Januarie last past 1591;" ending a may be loose and not over-heroic life in a manner worthy of the most glorious martyr of history. John Fian, schoolmaster of Saltpans, with no great idea to support him, and no admiring friends to cheer him on, bore himself as nobly as any hero of them all, and vindicated the honour of manhood and natural strength in a way that exalts our common human nature into something godlike and divine. THE GRACE WIFE OF KEITH AND HER CUMMERS.[6] Fian was the first victim in the grand battue offered now to the royal witchfinder; others were to follow, the manner of whose discovery was singular enough. Deputy Bailie David Seaton of Tranent, had a half-crazed servant-girl, one Geillis Duncan, whose conduct in suddenly taking "in hand to helpe all such as were troubled or grieved with anie kinde of sicknes or infirmitie," excited the righteous suspicions of her master. To make sure he tortured her, without trial, judge, or jury; first, by the "pillie-winks" or thumbscrews, and then by "thrawing,"--wrenching, or binding her head with a rope--an intensely agonizing process, and one that generally comes in as part of the service of justice done to witch and wizard. Not confessing, even under these persuasions, she was "searched," and the mark was found on her throat: whereupon she at once confessed; accusing, among others, the defunct John Fian, or Cuningham, Agnes Sampson at Haddington, "the eldest witch of them all," Agnes Tompson of Edinburgh, and Euphemia Macalzean, daughter of Lord Cliftonhall, one of the senators of the College of Justice. Agnes Sampson's trial came first. She was a grave, matronlike, well-educated woman, "of a rank and comprehension above the vulgar, grave and settled in her answers, which were to some purpose," and altogether a woman of mark and character. She was commonly called the "grace wyff" or "wise wyff" of Keith; and, doubtless, her superior reputation brought on her the fateful notice of the half-crazed girl; also it procured her the doubtful honour of being carried to Holyrood, there to be examined by the king himself. At first she quietly and firmly denied all that she was charged with, but after having been fastened to the witches' bridle,[7] kept without sleep, her head shaved and thrawn with a rope, searched, and pricked, she, too, confessed whatever blasphemous nonsense her accusers chose to charge her with, to the wondrous edification of her kingly inquisitor. She said that she and two hundred other witches went to sea on All-Halloween, in riddles or sieves, making merry and drinking by the way: that they landed at North Berwick church, where, taking hands, they danced around, saying-- "Commer goe ye before! commer goe ye! Gif ye will not goe before, commer let me!" Here they met the devil, like a mickle black man, as John Fian had said, and he marked her on the right knee; and this was the time when he made them all so angry by calling Robert Grierson by his right name, instead of Rob the Rower, or Ro' the Comptroller. When they rifled the graves, as Fian had said, she got two joints, a winding-sheet, and an enchanted ring for love-charms. She also said that Geillis Duncan, the informer, went before them, playing on the Jew's harp, and the dance she played was Gyllatripes; which so delighted gracious Majesty, greedy of infernal news, that he sent on the instant to Geillis, to play the same tune before him; which she did "to his great pleasure and amazement." Furthermore, Agnes Sampson confessed that, on asking Satan why he hated King James, and so greatly wished to destroy him, the foul fiend answered: "Because he is the greatest enemy I have;" adding, that he was "un homme de Dieu," and that Satan had no power against him. A pretty piece of flattery, but availing the poor wise wife nothing as time went on. Her indictment was very heavy; fifty-three counts in all; for the most part relating to the curing of disease by charm and incantation, and to foreknowledge of sickness or death. Thus, she took on herself the sickness of Robert Kerse in Dalkeith, then cast it back, by mistake, on Alexander Douglas, intending it for a cat or a dog: and she put a powder containing dead men's bones under the pillow of Euphemia Macalzean, when in the pains of childbirth, and so got her safely through. As she went on, and grew more thoroughly weakened in mind and body, she owned to still more monstrous things. Item, to having a familiar, in shape of a dog by name Elva, whom she called to her by "Holà! master!" and conjured away "by the law he lived on." This dog or devil once came so near to her that she was "fleyt," but she charged him by the law he lived on to come no nearer to her, but to answer her honestly--"Should old Lady Edmistoune live?" "Her days were gane," said Elva; "and where were the daughters?" "They said they would be there," said Agnes. He answered, one of them should be in peril, and that he should have one of them. "It sould nocht be sa," cried the wise wife; so he growled and went back into the well. Another time she brought him forth out of the well to show to Lady Edmistoune's daughters, and he frightened them half to death, and would have devoured one of them had not Agnes and the rest gotten a grip of her and drawn her back. She sent a letter to Marian Leuchope, to raise a wind that should prevent the queen from coming; and she caused a ship, 'The Grace of God,' to perish--the devil going before, while she and the rest sailed over in a flat boat, entered unseen, ate of the best, and swamped the vessel afterwards. For helping her in this nefarious deed, she gave twenty shillings to Grey Meill, "ane auld, sely, pure plowman," who usually kept the door at the witches' conventions, and who had attended her in this shipwreck adventure. Then, she was one of the foremost and most active in the celebrated storm-raising for the destruction, or at least the damage of the king on his return from Denmark; giving some curious particulars in addition to what we have already had in Fian's indictment; as, that she and her sister witches baptized the cat by which they raised the storm, by putting it, with various ceremonies, thrice through the chimney crook. "Fyrst twa of thame held ane fingar, in the ane syd of the chimnay cruik, and ane vther held ane vther fingar in the vther syd, the twa nebbis of the fingaris meting togidder; than they patt the catt thryis throw the linkis of the cruik, and passit it thryis vnder the chimnay;" afterwards they knit four dead men's joints to the four feet of the cat, and cast it into the sea, ready now to work any amount of mischief that Satan might command. Then she made a "picture," or clay image, of Mr. John Moscrop, father-in-law to Euphemia Macalzean, to destroy him, at the said Euphemia's desire. She was also at all the famous North Berwick meetings, where Dr. Fian was secretary, registrar, and lock-opener; where they were baptized of the fiend, and received formally into his congregation; where he preached to them as a great black man; and where they rifled graves and meted out the dead among them. She also confessed to taking a black toad, and hanging him up by his heels, collecting all his venom in an oyster shell for three days, and she told the king that it was then she wanted his fouled linen, when she would have enchanted him to death--but she never got it. She had two Pater Nosters, the white and the black. The white ran thus:-- "White Pater Noster, God was my Foster, He fostered me, Under the Book of Palm Tree. Saint Michael was my Dame, He was born at Bethlehem, He was made of flesh and blood, God send me my right food: My right food and dyne two That I may to yon kirk go, To read upon yon sweet book, Which the mighty God of Heaven shoop. Open, open, Heaven's yaits, Stick, stick, Hell's yaits. All Saints be the better, That hear the white prayer Pater Noster." There was no harm in this doggerel, nor yet much good; little of blessing, if less of banning; nor was the Black more definite. It was shorter, which ought to have ranked as a merit:-- Black Pater Noster. "Four newks in this house, for holy angels, A post in the midst, that's Christ Jesus, Lucas, Marcus, Matthew, Joannes, God be into this house and all that belongs us." To "sain" or charm her bed she used to say,-- "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John The bed be blest that I ly on." And when the butter was slow in coming, it was enough if she chanted slowly-- "Come, butter, come! Come, butter, come! Peter stands at the gate. Waiting for a buttered cake, Come, butter, come," said with faith and unction, she was sure to have at once a lucky churn-full. These queer bits of half-papistical, half-nonsensical doggerel were considered tremendous sins in those days, and the use of them was quite sufficient to bring any one to the scaffold; as their application would, for a certainty, destroy health, and gear, and life, if it were so willed. And for all these crimes--storm-raising, cat-baptizing, and the rest--Agnes Sampson, the grave, matronlike, well-educated grace wife of Keith, was bound to a stake, strangled, and burnt on the Castle Hill, with no one to seek to save her, and no one to bid her weary soul God-speed! Barbara Napier, wife to a burgess of Edinburgh, and sister-in-law to the Laird of Carschoggill, was then seized--accused of consorting with Agnes Simpson, and consulting with Richard Grahame, a notorious necromancer, to whom she gave "3 ells of bombezie for his paynes," all that she might gain the love and gifts of Dame Jeane Lyon, Lady Angus; also of having procured the witch's help to keep the said Dame Jeane "fra wometing quhen she was in bredin of barne." She was accused of other and more malicious things; but acquitted of these: indeed the "assisa" which tried her was contumacious and humane, and pronounced no doom; whereon King James wrote a letter demanding that she be strangled, then burnt at the stake, and all her goods escheated to himself. But Barbara pleaded that she was with child; so her execution was delayed until she was delivered, when "nobody insisting in the persute of her, she was set at libertie." The contumacious majority was tried for "wilful error on assize--acquitting a witch," but got off with more luck than usual.[8] Euphemia Macalzean,[9] or as we should say, Maclean, was even higher game. She was the daughter of Lord Cliftonhall, and wife of Patrick Moscrop, a man of wealth and standing; a firm, passionate, heroic woman, whom no tortures could weaken into confession, no threats terrify into submission. She fought her way, inch by inch, but she was "convict" at last, and condemned to be burnt alive: the severest sentence ever pronounced against a witch. In general they were "wirreit" or strangled before being burnt. There is good reason to believe that her witchcraft was made merely the pretence, while her political predilections, her friendship for the Earl of Bothwell, and her Catholic religion, were the real grounds of the king's enmity to her, and the causes of the severity with which she was treated. Her indictment contains the ordinary list of witch-crimes, diversified with the additional charge of bewitching a certain young Joseph Douglas, whose love she craved and found impossible to obtain, or rather, to retain. She was accused of giving him, for unlawful purposes, "ane craig cheinzie (neck chain), twa belt cheinzies, ane ring, ane emiraut," and other jewels; trying also to prevent his marriage with Marie Sandilands, and making Agnes Simpson get back the jewels, when her spells had failed. The young wife whom Douglas married, and the two children she bore him, also came in for part of her alleged maleficent enchantments. She "did the barnes to death," and struck the wife with deadly sickness. She was also accused of casting her own childbirth pains, once on a dog, and once on the "wantoune cat;" whereupon the poor beasts ran distractedly out of the house, as well they might, and were never seen again. She managed this marvellous piece of sleight-of-hand by getting a bored stone from Agnes Sampson, and rolling "enchanted mwildis"--earth from dead men's graves--in her hair. Another time she got her husband's shirt, and caused it to be "woumplit" (folded up) and put under her bolster, whereby she sought to throw her labour pains upon him, but without effect; as is not to be wondered at. She bewitched John M'Gillie's wife by sending her the vision of a naked man, with only a white sheet about him; and Jonett Aitcheson saw him with the sleeves of his shirt "vpoune leggis, and taile about his heid." She was also accused of endeavouring to poison her husband; and it was manifest that their union was not happy--he being for the most part away from home, and she perhaps thinking of the other husband promised her, Archibald Ruthven; which promise, broken and set aside, had made such a slander and scandal of her marriage with Patrick Moscrop. And it was proved--or what went for proof in those days--that Agnes Sampson, the wise wife, had made a clay image of John Moscrop, the father-in-law, who should thereupon have pined away and died, according to the law of these enchantments, but, failing in this obedience, lived instead, to the grief and confusion of his daughter-in-law. All these crimes, and others like unto them, were quite sufficient legal causes of death; and James could gratify his superstitious fears and political animosity at the same time, while Euphemia Maclean--the fine, brave, handsome Euphemia--writhed in agony at the stake to which she was bound when burned alive in the flames: "brunt in assis quick to the deid," says the Record--the severest sentence ever passed on a witch. This murder was done on the 25th July, 1591. "The last of Februarie, 1592, Richard Grahame wes brant at y{e} Cross of Edinburghe for vitchcrafte and sorcery," says succinctly Robert Birrel, "burges of Edinburghe," in his "Diarey containing divers Passages of Staite and uthers memorable Accidents, from y{e} 1532 zeir of our Redemption, till y{e} beginning of the zeir 1605." "And in 1593, Katherine Muirhead was brunt for vitchcrafte, quha confest sundrie poynts yrof." Richard Graham was the "Rychie Graham, ane necromancer," consulted by Barbara Napier; the same who gave the Earl of Bothwell some drug to make the king's majesty "lyke weill of him," if he could but touch king's majesty on the face therewith; it was he also who raised the devil for Sir Lewis Ballantyne, in his own yard in the Canongate, whereby Sir Lewis was so terrified that he took sickness and died. Even in the presence of the king himself, Rychie boasted that "he had a familiar spirit which showed him many things;" but which somehow forgot to show him the stake and the rope and the faggot, which yet were the bold necromancer's end, little as the poor cozening wretch merited such an awful doom. THE TWO ALISONS. June, 1596, had nearly seen a nobler victim than those usually accorded. John Stuart, Master of Orkney, and brother of the Earl, "was dilatit of consulting with umquhile Margaret Balfour, ane wich, for the destructionne of Patrik Erll of Orkney, be poysoning." In the dittay she is called "Alysoun Balfour, ane knawin notorious wich." Alisoun, after being kept forty-eight hours in the "caschiclawis"[10]--her husband, an old man of eighty-one, her son, and her young daughter, all being in ward beside her, and tortured--was induced to confess. She could not see the old man with the Lang Irons of fifty stone weight laid upon him; her son in the boots, with fifty-seven strokes; and her little daughter, aged seven, with the thumbscrews upon her tender hands, and not seek to gain their remission by any confession that could be made. But when the torture was removed from them and her, she recanted in one of the most moving and pathetic speeches on record--availing her little then, poor soul! for she was burnt on the Castle Hill, December 16th, 1594, and her confession treasured up to be used as future evidence against John Stuart. Thomas Palpla, a servant, was also implicated; but as he had been kept eleven days and nights in the caschiclaws (or caspie-claws); twice in the day for fourteen hours "callit in the buitis;" stripped naked and scourged with "ropes in sic soirt that they left nather flesch nor hyde vpoun him;" and, as he recanted so soon as the torture was removed, his confession went for but little. So John, Master of Orkney, was let off, when perhaps he had been the only guilty one of the three. In October[11] of the same year (1596), Alesoun Jollie, spous to Robert Rae, in Fala, was "dilatit of airt and pairt" in the death of Isobell Hepburn, of Fala: and the next month, November, Christian Stewart, in Nokwalter, was strangled and burnt for the slaughter of umquhile Patrick Ruthven, by taking ane black clout from Isobell Stewart, wherewith to work her fatal charm. It does not appear that she did anything more heinous than borrow a black cloth from Isobell, which might or might not have been left in Ruthven's house; but suspicion was as good as evidence in those days, and black clouts were dangerous things to deal with when women had the reputation of witches. So poor Christian Stewart was strangled and burnt, and her soul released from its troubles by a rougher road, and a shorter, than what Nature would have taken if left to herself. "Strange that while all these dismal affairs were going on at Edinburgh, Shakspeare was beginning to write his plays, and Bacon to prepare his essays. Ramus had by this time shaken the Aristotelian philosophy, and Luther had broken the papal tyranny."[12] Truly humanity walks by slow marches, and by painful stumbling through thorny places! THE TROUBLES OF ABERDEEN.[13] Aberdeen was not behind her elder sister. One man and twenty-three women were burned in one year alone for the crime of witchcraft and magic; and the Records of the Dean of Guild faithfully detail the expenses which the town was put to in the process. On the 23rd of February, 1597, Thomas Leyis cost them two pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence, for "peattis, tar barrelis, fir, and coallis, to burn the said Thomas, and to Jon Justice for his fie in executing him;" but Jonet Wischart (his mother), and Isobel Cocker, cost eleven pounds ten shillings for their joint cremation; with ten shillings added to the account for "trailling of Monteithe (another witch of the same gang) through the streits of the town in ane cart, quha hangit herself in prison, and eirding (burying) her." The dittay against these several persons set forth various crimes. Janet Wischart, who was an old woman notorious for her evil eye, was convicted, amongst other things, of having "in the moneth of Aprile or thairby, in anno nyntie ane yeiris, being the first moneth in the raith (the first quarter) at the greiking" (breaking) of the day, cast her cantrips in Alexander Thomson's way, so that one half of the day his body was "rossin" (burned or roasted) as if in an oven, with an extreme burning drought, and the other half melting away with a cold sweat. Upon Andrew Wobster--who had put a linen towel round her throat, half choking her, and to whom she said angrily, "Quhat wirreys thow me? thow salt lie: I sall give breid to my bairnis this towmound, and thou sall nocht byd ane moneth with thin, to gif tham breid"--she had laid such sore cantrips, that he died as she predicted: which was a cruel and foul murder in the eyes of the law, forbye the sin of witchcraft. But she had other victims as well. James Low, a stabler, refused to lend her his kiln and barn, so he took a "dwining" illness in consequence, "melting away like ane burning candle till he died." His wife and only son died too, and his "haill geir, surmounting three thousand pounds, are altogether wrackit and away." Beside this evidence there was his own testimony availing; for he had often said on his death-bed, that if he had lent Jonet what she had demanded, he would never have suffered loss. She had also once brought down a dozen fowls off a roost, dead at her feet; and had ruined a woman and her husband, by bidding them take nine grains or ears of wheat, and a bit of rowan tree, and put them in the four corners of the house--for all the mischance that followed after was due to this unholy charm; and once she raised a serviceable wind in a dead calm, by putting a piece of live coal at two doors, whereby she was enabled to winnow some wheat for herself, when all the neighbours were standing idle for want of wind; and she bewitched cows, so that they gave poison instead of milk; and oxen, so that they became furious under the touch of any one but herself; and she sent cats to sit on honest folks' breasts, and give them evil dreams and the horrors; and furthermore, she was said to have gone to the gallows in the Links, and to have dismembered the dead body hanging there, for charms; and twenty-two years ago she was proved to have been found sitting in a field of corn before sunrising, peeling blades, and finding that it would be "ane dear year," for the blade grew widershins, and it was only when it grew sungates (from east to west) that it would be a full harvest and cheap bread for the poor; and once her daughter-in-law had found her, and another hag, sitting stark by her fireside, the one mounted on the shoulders of the other, working charms for her health and well-being. So she cost the town of Aberdeen the half of eleven pounds odd shillings, for the most effectual manner of carrying out her sentence, which was, that she "be brint to the deid." Her son Thomas Leyis was not so fortunate as her husband and daughters: "qwik gangand devills" were these; for they escaped the flames this time, and were banished instead. But Thomas was less lucky. He was dilatit of being a common witch and sorcerer, and the partner of all his mother's evil deeds. One of his worst crimes was having danced round the market-cross of Aberdeen, he and a number of witches and sorcerers--the devil leading; "in the quhilk dans, thow, Thomas, was foremost, and led the ring, and dang the said Katherine Mitchell (another of the accused) because scho spillit your dans, and ran nocht so fast about as the rest." Thomas had a lover too, faithless Elspet Reid, and she, turning against him, as has been the manner of lovers through all time, gave tremendous evidence in his disfavour. She said that he had once offered to take her to Murrayland, and there marry her; a man at the foot of a certain mountain being sure to rise at his bidding, and supply them with all they wanted; and when he was confined in the church-house, she came and whispered to him through the window, and the man in charge of Thomas swore that she said she had been meeting with the devil according to his orders, and that when she sained herself he had "vaniest away with ane rwmleng (rumbling)." In the morning, too, before the old mother's conviction, "ane ewill spreit in lyiknes of ane pyit (magpie)," went and struck the youngest sister in her face, and would have picked out her eyes, but that the neighbours to the fore dang the foul thief out of the room; and again, on the day after conviction, and before execution, the devil came again as ane kae (crow), and would have destroyed the youngest sister entirely had he not been prevented: which two visitations were somehow hinged on to Thomas, and included in the list of crimes for which he was adjudged worthy of death. Helen Fraser, of the same "coven," was a most dangerous witch. She had the power to make men transfer their affections, no matter how good and wholesome the wife deserted:--and she never spared her power. By her charms she caused Andrew Tullideff to leave off loving his lawful wife and take to Margaret Neilson instead: so that "he could never be reconceillit with his wife, or remove his affection frae the said harlot;" and she made Robert Merchant fall away from the duty owing to his wife, Christian White, and transfer himself and his love to a certain widow, Isobel Bruce, for whom he once went to sow corn, and fell so madly in love that he could never quit the house or the widow's side again; "whilk thing the country supposed to be brought about by the unlawful travelling of the said Helen; "and was further _testified by Robert himself_," says Chambers significantly. Helen Fraser was therefore burnt; and it is to be hoped that the men returned to their lawful mates. Isobel Cockie, who was burnt in company with Thomas Lee's mother, old Jonet, meddled chiefly with cows and butter. She could forespeak them so that they should give poison instead of milk, and the cream she had once overlooked was never fit for the "yirning." Her landlord once offended her by mending the roof of her house while she was from home, and Isobel, who did not choose that her things should be pulled about in her absence, and perhaps some of her cantrips discovered, "glowrit up at him, and said, 'I sall gar thee forthink it that thow hast tirrit my hows, I being frae hame.'" Whereupon Alexander Anderson went home sick and speechless, and gat no relief until Isobel gave him "droggis," when his speech and health returned as of old. Isobel had been the dancer immediately after Thomas Lees at the Fish Cross, "and because the dewill playit not so melodiously and well as thow cravit, thow took his instrument out of his mouth, then tuik him on the chafts (chops) therewith, and playit thyself theiron to the haill company." What further evidence could possibly be required to prove that Isobel Cockie was a witch, and one that "might not be suffered to live"? Other trials did Aberdeen entertain that year on this same wise and Christian count. There was that of Andrew Man, a poor old fellow specially patronized by the Queen of Fairy who sixty years ago had come to his mother's house, where she was delivered of a bairn just like an ordinary woman, and no devil or Queen of Elfin at all. Andrew was then but a boy, but he remembered it all well, and how he carried water for her, and was promised by her that he should know all things, and should be able to cure all sorts of sickness except the "stand deid;" and that he should be "well entertainit," but should seek his meat ere he died, as Thomas Rhymer had done in years long past. Twenty-eight years after this the queen came again, and caused one of his cattle to die on a hillock called the Elf-hillock, but promised to do him good afterwards; and it was then that their guilty albeit poetic and loving intercourse began. Andrew was told in his dittay that he could cure "the falling sickness, the bairn-bed, and all other sorts of sickness that ever fell to man or beast, except the _stand-deid_, by baptizing them, reabling them in the auld corunschbald,[14] and striking of the gudis on the face, with ane foot in thy hand, and by saying their words, 'Gif thou wilt live, live; and gif thow wilt die, die,' with sundry other orisons, sic as Sanct John and the three silly brethren, whilk thow canst say when thow please, and by giving of black wool and salt as a remeid for all diseases, and for causing a man prosper, so that his blude should never be drawn." Once, Andrew Man, by putting a patient nine times through a hasp of unwatered yarn, and a cat as many times backwards through the same hasp, cured the patient by killing the cat. This was logical, and quite easy to be understood. Andrew's devil whom he affirmed to be an angel, and whose name was Christsonday, was raised by saying Benedicite, and laid again by putting a dog under his arm, then casting it into the devil's mouth with the awful word "Maikpeblis!" "The Queen of Elphen has a grip of all the craft," says the dittay, "but Christsonday is the gudeman, and has all power under God; and thow kens sundry deid men in their company, and the king that died at Flodden, and Thomas Rhymer is there." And as the queen had been seen in Andrew's company in a rather beautiful and poetic manner, the whole affair was settled, and no man's mind was left in doubt of the old creature's guilt. For, Andrew was told, "Upon Rood-day in harvest, in this present year, whilk fell on a Wednesday, thow saw Christsonday come out of the snaw in the likeness of a staig (young male horse), and the Queen of Elphen was there, and others with her, riding upon white hackneys." "The elves have shapes and claithes like men, and will have fair covered tables, and they are but shadows, but are starker (stronger) nor men, and they have playing and dancing when they please; the queen is very pleasant, and will be auld and young when she pleases; she makes any king whom she pleases.... The elves will make thee appear to be in a fair chalmer, and yet thow wilt find thyself in a moss on the moor. They will appear to have candles, and licht, and swords, whilk will be nothing else but dead grass and straes." So Andrew's doom was sealed, for all that he denied his guilt, and he was convicted and burnt like the rest. Marjory Mutch came to her end because, having a deadly hatred against William Smith, she bewitched his oxen, as they were ploughing, so that they all ran "wood" or mad that instant, broke the plough, and two of them plunged up over the hills to Deer, and two ran up Ithan side, and could never be taken or apprehended again. She was notorious for bewitching cattle; and that she was a witch, and good for nothing but burning, a gentleman proved to the satisfaction of all present, for he found a soft spot on her which he pricked without causing any pain; a test that ought to have been eminently satisfactory and conclusive--but was not; for she was "clenged"--cleansed, or acquitted. Ellen Gray, convicted of many of the ordinary crimes of witchcraft, did away with all chance of mercy for herself when, on being taken, she looked over her shoulder, saying, "Is there no mon following me?" and Agnes Wobster was a witch because in a great snow she took fire out of a "cauld frosty dyke," and carried the same to her house. They were both burnt, as they merited. Jonet Leisk cast sickness and disease on all she knew, and made whole flocks run "wode" and furious; geese too; but she was "clenged," or cleared; so was Gilbert Fidlar; but Isobell Richie, Margaret Og, Helen Rogie, and others, were burnt, for the satisfaction of offended justice. Margaret Clark, too, came to no good end, because being sent for by the wife of Nicol Ross, when in child-bed, she gave her ease by casting her pains upon Andrew Harper, who fell into such a fury and madness during her time of travail, that he could not be holden, and only recovered when the gentlewoman was delivered. And what did Violet Leys do, but bewitch William Finlay's ship so that she never made one good voyage again, all because her husband had been discharged therefrom, and Violet the witch was most mightily angered? And Isobell Straquhan, too, had she not powers banned even in the blessing? She went one day to "Elspet Murray in Woodheid, she being a widow, and asked of her if she had a penny to lend her, and the said Elspet gave her the penny; and the said Isobell took the penny and bowit (bent) it, and took a clout and a piece of red wax, and sewed the clout with a thread, the wax and the penny being within the clout, and gave it to the said Elspet Murray, commanding her to use the said clout to hang about her craig (neck), and when she saw the man she loved best, take the clout, with the penny and wax, and stroke her face with it, and she so doing, would attain into the marriage of that man whom she loved." She also made Walter Ronaldson leave off beating his wife, by sewing certain pieces of paper thick with threads of divers colours, and putting them in the barn among the corn, since which time Walter left off dinging his poor spouse, and was "subdued entirely to her love." So Isobell Straquhan made one of the tale of twenty-two unfortunate wretches who were executed in Aberdeen that year, for the various crimes of witchcraft and sorcery. No evidence was too meagre for the witch-hunters; no accusation too absurd; no subterfuge or enormity sufficiently transparent to show the truth behind. When Margaret Aiken, "the great witch of Balwery,"[15] went about the country dilating honest women for witches, "by the mark between their eyes," it was evident to all but the heated and credulous, such as John Cowper, the minister of Glasgow, and others, that she used this as a mere means to save time, she herself having been tortured into confession, and now seeing no way of safety but by complicity and witch-finding. She told of one convention held on a hill in Atholl, where there were twenty-three hundred witches, and the devil among them. "She said she knew them all well enough, and what mark the devil had given severally to every one of them. There was many of them tried by swimming in the water, by binding of their two thumbs and their great toes together, for being thus casten in the water, they floated ay aboon." It was not only the malevolent witch that suffered in this wild raid made against reason and humanity. The doom dealt out to the witch who slew was equally allotted to the witch who saved. Yet the witchologists made a difference between the two. "Of witches there be two sorts," says Thomas Pickering, in his 'Discovrse of the damned Art of Witchcraft,' printed 1610, "_the bad witch_ and _the good witch_; for so they are commonly called. The _bad witch_ is he or she that hath consulted in league with the Deuill; to vse his helpe for the doing of hurte onely, so as to strike and annoy the bodies of men, women, children, and cattell, with diseases and with death itselfe; so likewise to raise tempests by sea and by land, &c. This is commonly called _the binding_ witch. "The _good witch_ is he or she that by consent in a league with the Deuill doth vse his helpe for the doing of good onely. This cannot hurt, torment, curse, or kill, but onely heale and cure the hurt inflicted vpone men or cattell by badde witches. For as they can doe no good but onely hurt; so this can doe no hurt but good onely. And this is that order which the Deuill hath set in his kingdome, appointing to severall persons their severall offices and charges. And the Good Witch is commonly called the Vnbinding Witch." But the good witch, as Pickering calls her, was no better off than the bad. Indeed she was held in even greater dread, for the black witch hurt only the body and estate, while the white witch hurt the soul when she healed the body; the healed part never being able to say "God healed me." Wherefore it was severed from the salvation of the rest, and the wholeness of the redemption destroyed. In consequence of this belief we find as severe punishments accorded to the blessing as to the banning witches; and no movement of gratitude was dreamt of towards those who had healed the most oppressive diseases, or shown the most humane feeling and kindness, if there was a suspicion that the power had been got uncannily, or that the drugs had more virtue than common. WHITE WITCHES.[16] Thus on November the 12th, 1597, Janet Stewart in the Canongate, Christian Levingstone in Leith, Bessie Aiken, also of Leith, and Christian Sadler of Blackhouse, were brought to trial for no worse crimes than healing and helping sundry of their neighbours. Christian Levingstone was "fylit and convict" for abusing (deceiving) Thomas Gothray, who went to her complaining that his gear went from him, and that he was bewitched; which she said was true; promising to help him, and "let him see where the witchcraft was laid." So she took him down his own stair, and dug a hole with her knife, and took out a little bag of black plaid, wherein were some grains of wheat, worsted threads of many colours, some hair, and nails of men's fingers, affirming that he was bewitched by these means, and bidding his wife catch them in her apron. If this bag had not been found, said Christian, he would have been wrackit both in mind and body; which was a clear case of "abusing," if you will. This "scho deponit in presens of my Lord Justice vpoun the tent day of Julij last past to be of veritie." She also said that her daughter had been taken away by fairy folk, and that she had learnt all her wise-wife knowledge from her, and as a proof of this knowledge, she prophesied that Gothray's wife, then "being with barne," should bear a man child; which proved to be true, to the sad strengthening of the accusations against her. Another time she and Christian Sadler were prayed by Robert Bailie, mason in Haddington, to go and cure his wife. Christian Sadler recommended her to take three pints of sweet wort, and boil it with a quantity of fresh butter; which she did, and drank it too, but with no good effects of healing, as we may suppose. Again, shortly before her accusation, she was sent for by Christian Sadler, on some other devil's deed; and together they made Andrew Pennycuik a cake baked with the blood of a red cock; but he could not eat it. Then they took his shirt and dipped it in the well at the back of his house, and brought it to him and put it on him, dripping as it was, "quhairthrow he maist haif sownit amang their hands," giving him to understand that now he would be mended, "albeit that it was onlie plane abusione, as the event declarit." Not finding the cake of red cock's blood or the dripping shirt of great efficacy, Andrew went then to Janet Stewart, craving his health at her hands "for God's sake;" but we are not told the result. Janet Stewart was fylit for going to Bessie Inglis in the Kowgate, Bessie being deidlie sick; when Janet took off her "mutche and sark" (cap and shift), washed them in south-running water, and put them on her again at midnight, wet as they were, saying three times, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." She also "fyrit," or put a hot iron into water, and burnt straw at the four corners of the bed, as Michael Clarke, smith, had learnt her; and she healed women of the mysterious child-bed disorder called wedonymph, by taking a garland of woodbine and putting them through it, afterwards cutting it into nine pieces, which she threw into the fire. This charm she said she had learnt from Mr. John Damiet, an Italian, and a notorious enchanter. And she cured sundry persons of the falling-evil by hanging a stone about their necks for five nights, which stone she said she got from Lady Crawford. Christian Sadler was "fylit and convict" for taking in hand to heal the young Laird of Bargany, with a salve made of quicksilver, which she rubbed into the patient, alleging that she learnt it of her father; but she did the same by "unlessum" (unwholesome) means, said the dittay, she having no such knowledge as would enable her to cure leprosy, which the most expert men in medicine are not able to do. Robert Hunter, too, since deceased, having a flaw in his face, she undertook to cure with a mixture of quicksilver in a drink. She said the flaw was leprosy, but it was nothing of the kind; and "God knows how the drink was composed," but the gentleman died twelve hours after, "as was notourlie confessit of hirself, and can nocht be denyit, quhairby scho was giltie of his death be hir craft; ministering to him vnlessum things, quhairof he deit suddenlie." So the four women were convicted and condemned, sentenced to be strangled at a stake, then burnt, and all their goods forfeit to the crown. Only Bessie Aiken got off by reason of her pregnancy; and after having suffered "lang puneischment be famine and imprisonment," was finally banished the kingdom for life. In July, 1602, James Reid suffered for the same kind of offences--taking three pennies and a piece of "creisch" (grease) from the bag of his master the devill, whom he met on Bynnie-crags, and learning from him the art of healing by means of silk laces, south-running waters, charms, incantations, and other "unlessum" means. He cured Sarah Borthwick by his sorcery and devilry, bringing her south-running water from the "Schriff-breyis-well," and casting a certain quantity of salt and wheat about her bed: and he consulted with certain for the destruction of David Libbertoune, baxter and burges of Edinburgh, his spouse, their corn, and goods, by taking a piece of raw flesh, and making nine nicks in it, then putting part under the mill door and part under the stable door; while, to ruin the land, he enchanted stones and cast them on the fields. He cured John Crystie of a swelling, by putting three silk laces round his leg for ten weeks; and his deeds becoming notorious and his character lost, he was adjudged worthy of death, and judicially murdered accordingly. Who was safe, if a half-fed scrofulous woman had fancies and the megrims? The first person on whom her wild imagination chose to cast the grim shadow of witchcraft was surely doomed, however slight the evidence, or whatever the manifest quality of the disease. There was poor Patrick Lowrie, fylit July 23, 1605--what had he done? Why, he and Jonet Hunter, "ane notorious wich," bewitched Bessie Saweris' (Sawyer's) her corn, and took all her fisnowne (fushion, foison, pith, strength, flavour) from her; and then he fell foul of certain "ky," so that they gave no milk; and he had cured the horse of Margaret Guffok, the witch of Barnewell, twenty years ago; and struck Janet Lowrie blind; and, as a climax, uncannily helped Elizabeth Crawford's bairn in Glasgow, which had been strangely sick for the last eight or nine years. And the way in which he helped her was thus. He took a cloth off the said bairn's face, "saining" it, and crossing the face with his hand; he kept the cloth for eight days, then came back and covered her face again with it; whereupon the child slept without moving for two days, and at the end of that time Patrick Lowrie wakened her, and her eye, which "had been tynt throw disease, was restored to her, and in five days she was cured and mended." He was also fylit of having met the devil on the common waste at Sandhills, in Kyle, when a number of men and women were there; and for having entertained him under the form of a woman, one Helen M'Brune (this was a succubus); also of having received from him a hair belt, at one end of which was the similitude of "four fingeris and ane thumbe, nocht far different from the clawis of the devill;" which belt Jonet Hunter had, and it was burnt at her trial; also of having dug up dead bodies, to dismember them for his deadly charms; and also for being "ane cowmone and notorious sorcerer, warlok, and abuser of the peopill, be all vnlawfull charms and devillische incantationes, vset be him this xxiiij yeir begane." To which terrific array was added the testimony of Mr. David Mill, who said how, in his own place, he was "brutit and commonlie called Pait ye Witch, and that he gat his father's malison," and had been spoken of as sure to make an ill end. So he did, poor fellow; for the Lord Advocate threatened to prosecute the assize if they acquitted him, which insured his effectual condemnation, and Pate the Witch was burnt with his fellows. THE MISDEEDS OF ISOBEL GRIERSON.[17] Two years afterwards, on March the 10th, 1607, Isobel Grierson, "spous to John Bull," came into court with anything but clean hands. She was accused of having visited Adam Clarke and his wife--they lying decently in bed, their servant being in the other bed beside them--not as an honest woman, but in the form of a cat, being accompanied by other cats which made a great and fearful noise. Whereat Adam Clarke, his wife, and servant were so affrighted they were almost mad. At the same time arrived the devil in the shape of a black man, and came to the servant girl then standing on the floor, and drew her up and down the house in a fearful manner, first taking the curtche (cap) off her head and casting it into the fire, whereby the poor woman had a sickness which lasted six weeks. Isobel killed William Burnet by casting a cutting of plaid in at his door, after which the devil, for the space of half a year, perpetually appeared to him as a naked child, holding an enchanted picture in his hand, and standing before the fire; but sometimes he appeared as Isobel herself, who, when William Burnet called to her by name, would vanish away. So she haunted and harried him till he pined away and died. She bewitched Mr. Brown, of Prestonpans, by throwing an enchanted "tailzie" (cut or piece) of beef at his door, sending the devil to distress him for half a year, appearing to him herself in the form of an infant bairn, and so hardly treating him, that Brown died as Burnet had done. Then she bewitched Robert Peddan, who got no good from any remedy, and knew not what ailed him, until he suddenly remembered that he and Isobel had had a quarrel about nine shillings which he owed her and would not pay; so he went to her and paid her, asking humbly for his health again; which came. Robert Peddan deposed, too, that, being once at his house, she wanted her cat, whereupon she opened his window, put out her hand, and drew the cat in: at which time was working a brewing of good sound ale, which all turned to "gutter dirt." Another time she or her spirit went at night to his house and drew Margaret Donaldson, his wife, out of her bed, and flung her violently against the floor; whereat the wife was very ill and sore troubled, and cried out on her. Isobel, hearing of this, went to the neighbours, and said they were to bring her and Margaret together again; which they did; and Margaret had her health for nine or ten days. But Meg, not leaving off calling out against her, Isobel went to her, "and spak to hir mony devillisch and horribill words," saying, "The faggot of hell lycht on thé, and hell's cauldron may thow seith in!" So Meg was sick again after this; and as a poor beggarwoman coming to the door to ask meat told her she was bewitched, for that she had the right stamp of it, the case grew serious, and Margaret cried out more loudly than before. Then Isobel went again to her house with a creil on her back, and said passionately, "Away, theiff! I sall haif thy hairt for bruitting of me sae falslie;" which so frightened Meg that she took to her bed, and Isobel was arrested, tried, convicted, and burnt. BARTIE PATERSON'S CHARM.[18] That same year James Brown was ill. Bartie Paterson went to him, and gave him drinks and salves made of green herbs, and bade him "sitt doun on his kneis thre seuerall nychtis, and everie nycht, thryse nyne tymes, ask his helth at all living wichtis, aboue and vnder the earth in the name of Jesus." He gave Alexander Clarke a drink of Dow-Loch water--poor Alexander Clarke was fond of consulting witches--causing him each time he lifted the mug to say, "I lift this watter in the name of the Father, Sone, and Holy Ghaist, to do guid for their helth for quhom it is liftit." And he was able to cast a spell over cattle by saying-- "I charme thé for arrow-schot, For dor-schot, for wondo-schot, For ey-schot, for tung-schot, For lever-schot, for lung-schot, For hert-schot, all the maist, In the name of the Father, the Sone, and Haly Ghaist. To wend out of fleisch and bane, Into stek and stane, In the name of the Father, the Sone, and Haly Ghaist. Amen." So the law put a stop to his incantations, and he was strangled and burnt, and all his goods escheit to the crown. But the crown did not get a very full haul, for poor Bartie was scarce removed from beggary. BEIGIS TOD AND HER COMPEERS.[19] In 1608, on May the 27th, Beigis Tod in Lang Nydrie came to her fate. She had long been a frequenter of Sabbaths, and once was reproved by the devil for being late, when she answered respectfully, "Sir, I could wyn na soner!" Immediately thereafter she passed to her own house, took a cat, and put it nine times through the chimney work, and then sped to Seaton Thorne "be north the yet," where the devil called Cristiane Tod, her younger sister, and brought her out. But Cristiane took a great fright and said, "Lord, what wilt thou do with me?" to whom he answered, "Tak na feir, for ye sall gang to your sister Beigis, to ye rest of hir cumpanie quha are stayand vpoun your cuming at the Thorne." Cristiane Tod, John Graymeill, Ersche (Irish), Marion, and Margaret Dwn, who were of that company that night, had all been burnt, so now Beigis had her turn. She fell out with Alexander Fairlie, and made his son vanish away by continual sweating and burning at his heart, during which time Beigis appeared to him nightly in her own person, but during the day in the similitude of a dog, and put him almost out of his wits. Alexander went to her to be reconciled, and asked her to take the sickness off his son, which at first she refused, but afterwards consenting, she went and healed the youth, a short time before she was arrested--to be burnt. Two years after this Grissel Gairdner was burnt for casting sickness upon people; and in 1613 Robert Erskine and his three sisters were executed--he was beheaded--for poisoning and treasonable murder against his two nephews. But before this, in 1608, the Earl of Mar brought word to the Privy Council that some women taken at Broughton or Breichin, accused of witchcraft, and being put to "ane assize and convict albeit they persevered constant in their deniall to the end, yet they wes burnet _quick_ after sic ane crewell maner that sum of thame deit in dispair, renunceand and blasphemand, and vtheris, half brunt, brak out of the fyre and wes cassin _quick_ into it againe, quhill they war brunt to the deid." Even this horrible scene does not seem to have had any effect in humanizing men's hearts, or opening their eyes to the infamy into which their superstition dragged them; for still the witch trials went on, and the young and the old, and the beautiful and the unlovely, and the loved and the loveless, were equally victims, cast without pity or remorse to their frightful doom. Sixteen hundred and sixteen was a fruitful year for the witch-finders. There was Jonka Dyneis of Shetland,[20] who, offended with one Olave, fell out in most vile cursings and blasphemous exclamations, saying that within a few days his bones should be "raiking" about the banks: and as she predicted so did it turn out--Olave perishing by her sorcery and enchantments. And not content with this, she cursed the other son of the poor widowed mother, and in fourteen days he also died, to Jonka's own undoing when the Shetlanders would bear her iniquities no longer. And there was Katherine Jonesdochter, also of Shetland, who cruelly transferred her husband's natural infirmities to a stranger: and Elspeth Reoch of Orkney, who pulled the herb called melefowr (millfoil?) betwixt her finger and thumb, saying, "In Nomine Patris, Filii, et Spiritûs Sancti," thus curing men's distempers in a devilish and unwholesome manner: and Agnes Scottie, who refused to speak word to living man before passing "the boundis of hir ground, and their sat down, plaiting her feit betwixt the merchis," that a certain woman might have a good childbirth; who was also convicted "of washing the inner nuke of her plaid and aprone," for some wicked and sinister purpose; for what sane Scottish woman would wash her clothes more than was absolutely necessary? and who could curse as well as cure, and transfer as well as give the sickness she could heal: and Marable Couper who threw a "wall piet" at a man who spoke ill of her, and made his face bleed, so that he went mad, and could only be recovered by her laying her hands on him, whereby he received his senses and his health again: and Agnes Yullock, who went to the guid wyfe of Langskaill, and by touching her gave her back her health: and William Gude, who had power over all inanimate things, and by his touch could give them back the virtue they had lost. These are only a few, very few, of the cases to be found in the various judiciary records of the year 1616--a year no worse than others, and no better, where all were bad and blood-stained alike. In 1618 one of the saddest stories of all was to be read in the tears of a few sorrowful relatives, and in the exultation of those fanatics who rejoiced when the accursed thing plucked out from them was of more goodly savour and of a fairer form than usual, and thus was a meeter sacrifice for the Lord. Of all the heartrending histories to be found in the records of witchcraft, the history of Margaret Barclay and her "accomplices" is saddest, most sorrowful, most heartrending. THE PITIFUL FATE OF MARGARET BARCLAY.[21] Margaret was a young, beautiful, high-spirited woman, wife of Archibald Dein, burgess of Irvine, and not on the best of terms with John Dein, her husband's brother. Indeed, she had had him and his wife before the Kirk session for slander, and things had not gone quite smoothly with them ever since. When, therefore, the ship, The Grace of God, in which John Dein was sailing, sank in sight of land, drowning him and all his men, the old quarrel was remembered, and Margaret, together with Isobel Insh and John Stewart, a wandering "spaeman," was accused of having sunk the vessel by charms and enchantments. Margaret disdainfully denied the charge from beginning to end: Isobel said she had never seen the spaeman in her life before; but Stewart "clearly and pounktallie confessit" all the charges brought against him, and also said that the women had applied to him to be taught his magic arts, and that once he had found them both modelling ships and figures in clay for the destruction of the men and vessel aforesaid. And as it was proved that Stewart had spoken of the wreck before he could have known it by ordinary means, suspicion of sorcery fell upon him, and he was taken: and made his confession. He said that he had visited Margaret to help her to her will, when a black dog, breathing fire from his nostrils, had formed part of the conclave; and Isobel's own child, a little girl of eight, added to this, a black man as well. Isobel, after denying all and sundry of the charges brought against her, under torture admitted their truth. In the night time she found means to escape from her prison, bruised and maimed with the torture as she was; but in scrambling over the roof she fell to the ground, and was so much injured that she died five days afterwards. Margaret was then tortured: the spaeman had strangled himself, which was the best thing he could do, only it was a pity he did not do it before; and poor Margaret was the last of the trio. The torture they used, said the Lords Commissioners, was "safe and gentle." They put her bare legs into a pair of stocks, and laid on them iron bars, augmenting their weight one by one, till Margaret, unable to bear the pain, cried out to be released, promising to confess the truth as they wished to have it. But when released she only denied the charges with fresh passion; so they had recourse to the iron bars again. After a time, pain and weakness overcame her again, and she shrieked aloud, "Tak off! tak off! and befoir God I will show ye the whole form!" She then confessed--whatever they chose to ask her; but unfortunately, in her ravings, included one Isobel Crawford, who when arrested--as she was on the instant--attempted no defence, but, paralyzed and stupefied, admitted everything with which she was charged. Margaret's trial proceeded: sullen and despairing, she assented to the most monstrous counts: she knew there was no hope, and she seemed to take a bitter pride in suffering her tormentors to befool themselves to the utmost. In the midst of her anguish her husband, Alexander Dein, entered the court, accompanied by a lawyer. And then her despair passed, and she thought she saw a glimmer of life and salvation. She asked to be defended. "All that I have confessed," she said, "was in an agony of torture; and before God all that I have spoken is false and untrue. But," she added pathetically, turning to her husband, "ye have been owre lang in coming!" Her defence did her no good; she was condemned, and at the stake entreated that no harm might befall Isobel Crawford, who was utterly and entirely innocent. To whom did she make this prayer? to hearts turned wild and wolfish by superstition; to hearts made fiendish by fear; to men with nothing of humanity save its form--with nothing of religion save its terrors. She might as well have prayed to the fierce winds blowing round the court-house, or the rough waves lashing the barren shore! She was taken to the stake, there strangled and burnt: bearing herself bravely to the last. Poor, brave, beautiful, young Margaret! we, at this long lapse of time, cannot even read of her fate without tears; it needed all the savageness of superstition to harden the hearts of the living against the actual presence of her beauty, her courage, and her despair! Isobel Crawford was now tried; "after the assistant minister, Mr. David Dickson, had made earnest prayer to God for opening her obdurate and closed heart, she was subjected to the torture of the iron bars laid upon her bare shins, her feet being in the stocks, as in the case of Margaret Barclay." She endured this torture "admirably," without any kind of din or exclamation, suffering above thirty stone of iron to be laid on her legs, never shrinking thereat in any sort, but remaining steady and constant. But when they shifted the iron bars, and removed them to another part of her legs, her constancy gave way, as Margaret's had done, and she too broke out into horrible cries of "Tak off! tak off!" She then confessed--anything--everything--and was sentenced: but on the way to her execution she denied all that she had admitted, interrupted the minister in his prayer, and refused to pardon the executioner, according to form. Her brain had given way, and they fastened to the stake a bewildered, raving maniac. God rest their weary souls! MARGARET WALLACE AND HER DEAR BURD.[22] Margaret Wallace (1622), spous to John Dynning, merchant and citizen of Glasgow, hated Cuthbert Greg. She had sent Cristiane Grahame to him, wanting his dog; but he would not give it, saying, "I rather ye and my hussie (cummer, gossip) baith was brunt or ye get my dog." Margaret, coming to the knowledge of this speech, went to him angrily, and said, "Ffals land-loupper loun that thow art, sayis thow that Cristiane Grahame and I sall be brunt for witches? I vow to God I sall doe ye ane evill turne." So she did, by means of a cake of bread, casting on him the most strange, unnatural, and unknown disease, such as none could mend or understand. Suspecting that he was bewitched, his friends got her to come and undo the mischief she had done: so she went into the house, took him by the "schaikill bane" (shoulder-blade) with one hand, and laid the other on his breast, but spoke no word, only moved her lips; then passed from him on the instant. The next day she went again to his house, and took him up out of bed, leading him to the kitchen and three or four times across the floor, though he had been bedridden for fifteen days, unable to put his foot to the ground. And if all that was not done by devilish art and craft, how was it done? asked the judges and the jury. Another time she went to the house of one Alexander Vallange, where she was taken with a sudden "brasch" of sickness, and was so hardly holden that they thought she would have "ryved" herself to fits. She cried out piteously for her "dear burd," and the bystanders thought she meant her husband: but it turned out to be the witch Cristiane Grahame that she wanted--whom they immediately sent for. Cristiane came at once, and took Margaret tenderly in her arms, saying "no one should hurt her dear burd, no one;" then carried her down stairs into the kitchen, and so home to her own house. The little daughter of the house ran after them; on the threshold, she was seized with a sudden pain, and falling down cried and screamed most sorely. Her mother went to lift her up crossly, but she called out, "Mother, mother, ding me nocht, for there is ane preyne (pin) raschet throw my fute." She "grat" all the night, and was very ill; her parents watching by her through the long hours: but when Margaret wanted the mother to let her be cured by Cristiane's aid, she said sternly, no, "scho wad commit her bairne to God, and nocht mell with the devill or ony of his instrumentis." However, Margaret Wallace healed the little one unbidden; by leaping over some bits of green cloth scattered in the midst of the floor, and then taking her out of bed and laying her in Cristiane Grahame's lap--which double sorcery cured her instantly. Cristiane Grahame had been burnt for a witch some time before this trial; and now Margaret Wallace, in this year of our Lord 1622, was doomed to the same fate: bound to a stake, strangled, burnt, her ashes cast to the wind, and all her worldly gear forfeit to king's majesty, because she was a tender-hearted, loving woman, with a strong will and large mesmeric power, and did her best for the sick folk about her. THOM REID AGAIN.[23] Isobell Haldane confessed before the Session of Perth, May 15, 1623, that she had cured Andro Duncan's bairn by washing it and its sark in water brought from the Turret Port, then casting the water into a burn; but in the going "scho skaillit (spilt) swm quhilk scho rewis ane evill rew, becaus that if onye had gone ower it they had gottyn the ill." She confessed, too, that about ten years since, she, lying in her bed, was taken forth, whether by God or the devil she knows not, and carried to a hill: the hill-side opened, and she went in and stayed there from Thursday to Sunday at eleven o'clock, when an old man with a gray beard brought her forth. The old man with the gray beard, who seems to have been poor Bessie Dunlop's old acquaintance, told her many things after this visit. He told her that John Roch, who came to the wright's shop for a cradle, need not be so hasty, for his wife would not be lighter for five weeks, and then the bairn should never lie in the cradle, but would die when baptized: as it proved, and as John Roch deposed on her trial. Also, he told her that Margaret Buchanan, then in good health, should prepare herself for death before Fastings Even, which was a few days hence; and Margaret died as she predicted. And Patrick Ruthven deposed that he, being sick--bewitched by one Margaret Hornscleugh--Isobell came to see him, and stretched herself upon him, her head to his head, her hands on his, and so forth, mumbling some words, he knew not what. And Stephen Ray deposed that three years since he had detected Isobell in a theft, whereon she clapped him on the back, and said, "Go thy way; thow sall nocht win thyself ane bannok of breid for yeir and ane day;" and so it proved. He pined away, heavily diseased, and did not do a stroke of work for just three hundred and sixty-six days, of the full four-and-twenty hours' count. But Isobell said that her sole words were, "He that delyueret me frome the ffairy ffolk sall tak amends on thé:" and that she had never meaned to harm him, nor even to answer him ungently. But she confessed to various charms; such as a cake made of small handsful of meal, gotten from nine several women who had been married, virgins--through a hole in which sick children were to be passed, to their decided cure; and she confessed to getting water, silently going, and silently returning, from the well of Ruthven, in which to bathe John Gow's child; and to having made a drink of focksterrie[24] leaves for Dan Morris's child, who "wes ane scharge" (changeling or fairy child), which focksterrie drink she made it swallow; when it died soon after. So Isobell Haldane shook hands with life, and went back to Thom Reid and the fairy folk on the hill, helped thither by the hangman. BESSIE SMITH. In the July of this same year Bessie Smith of Lesmahago also confessed to sundry unlawful doings. When people who were ill of the heart fevers went to her for advice, instead of employing honest drugs such as every Christian understood and nauseated, she bade them kneel and ask their health "for God's sake, for Sanct Spirit, for Sanct Aikit, for the nine maidens that died in the boor-tree in the Ladywell Bank. This charm to be buik and beil to me, God grant that sae be." This charm, with the "wayburn" leaf to be eaten for nine mornings, was sufficient to prove Bessie Smith of Lesmahago a necromancer; and the presbytery of Lanark did quite righteously, according to its lights, when they made her come before them and confess her crimes, humbly. Fortunately, they did not burn her. THOMAS GRIEVE'S ENCHANTMENTS (1623).[25] Thomas Grieve was a notorious enchanter, according to the Session, which prided itself on being "ripely advised." He put a woman's sickness on a cow, which ran mad, and died in consequence; and he cured William Kirk's bairn by stroking its hair back from its face and wrapping it in an enchanted cloth, whereby it slept, and woke healed. He cured cattle of "the heastie," or any other bovine disease untranslateable, by sprinkling the byre with enchanted water; and he cured sick people by putting them through a hank of yarn, which then he cut up and threw into the fire, where it burned blue. He healed one woman by "fyring"--putting a hot iron, which was supposed to burn the obsessing witch--into some magic water brought from Holywell, Hill-side, and making her drink it; and he cured another woman by burning a poor hen alive, first making her carry it, when half roasted, under her arm; and he took in hand to heal Elspeth, sister of John Thomson, of Corachie--passing with her two brothers in the night season from Corachie towards Burley, enjoining them not to speak a word all the way, and whatever they heard or saw, not to be anywise "effrayed," saying "it micht be that thai would heir grit rumbling and sie vncouth feirfull apparitiones, but nothing suld annoy thame." Arrived at the ford at the east of Birley he washed her sark; and during the time of this washing there was a great noise made by fowls in the hill, beasts that arose and fluttered in the water--"beistes that arrais and flichtered" in the water; and when he put her sark upon her again, Elspeth mended and was healed. And of another patient he propounded this wise opinion, come to by the examination of his sark: "Allace, the withcraft appointit for ane vther hes lichtit vpoune him," but it had not yet reached his heart. And further than all this, which was bad enough, he made signs and crosses, and muttered uncouth words, and believed in himself and the devil: so he was strangled and burnt, and an end come to of him: for which the neighbours all were glad, even those he had benefited, and the ministers were quite satisfied that they had given glory to God in the holiest manner open to them. KATHERINE GRANT AND HER STOUP.[26] Katherine Grant, in the November of the year 1623, was dilatit for that she had gone to Henry Janies' house, with "a stoup in hir hand, with the boddome foremost, and sat down ryght fornent the said Henrie, and gantit thryce on him: and going furth he followit hir; and beiyan the brigstane, scho lukit over her shoulder, and turned up the quhyt of her eye, quhair by her divilrie, their fell ane great weght upoun him that he was forcit to set his bak to the wall, and when he came in, he thoucht the hous ran about with him, and theirefter lay seik ane lang tyme." Katherine Grant was not likely to overcome the impression of such testimony as this: that she should have gone to any man's house and yawned thrice, and added to this devilry the further crime of looking over her shoulder, was quite enough evidence of guilt for any sane man or woman in Orkney. Can we wonder, then, that she was not suffered to vex the sunlight longer by carrying pails bottom upwards, or yawning thrice in the faces of decent folk, and that she was taken forth to be strangled, burnt, and her ashes cast to the four winds of the merciful heaven? THE MISDEEDS OF MARION RICHART.[27] "Mareoune" Richart, _alias_ Langland, dwelt on one of the wild Orkney islands, not far from where mad Elspeth Sandisome kept the whole country in fear lest she should do something terrible to herself or to others. Marion was invited to go the house, and try her skill at curing her, for she was known to be an awful witch, and able to do whatever she had a mind in the way of healing or killing. So she went, and set herself to her charm. She took some "remedie water"--which she made into "remedy water," by carrying it in a round bowl to the byre where she cast into it something like "great salt," taken from her purse, spitting thrice into the bowl, and blowing in her breath--and with this magic "remedie watter forspeking," she bade Elspeth's woman-servant wash her feet and hands, and she would be as well as ever she had been before. This was bad enough; but worse than this, she came to Stronsey on a day, asking alms of "Andro Coupar, skipper of ane bark," to whom said Andrew rudely, "Away witch, carling; devils ane farthing ye will fall!" whereupon went Marion away "verie offendit; and incontinentlie he going to sea, the bark being vnder saill, he ran wode, and wald half luppen ourboord; and his sone seing him gat him in his armes, and held him; quhairvpon the sicknes immediatelie left him, and his sone ran made; and Thomas Paiterson, seeing him tak his madnes, and the father to turn weill, ane dog being in the bark, took the dog and bladdit him vpon the twa schoulderis, and thaireftir flang the said dogg in the sea, quhairby those in the bark were saiffed." So Marion Richart, _alias_ Langland, learnt the hangman's way to the grave in the year of grace 1629; and her corpse was burned, when the hangman's rope had done its work. LADY LEE'S PENNY AND THE WITCHES OF 1629.[28] Isobel Young, spous to George Smith, was burnt, in 1629, for curing cattle, as well as for the other crimes belonging to a witch. She had sought to borrow Lady Lee's Penny--a precious stone or amulet, like to a piece of amber, set in a silver penny, which one of the old Lee family had gotten from a Saracen in the Crusades--and which Lee Penny was to help her in her incantations, for curing "the bestiall of the routting evill," whatever that might have been. But Lady Lee let her have only a flagon of water in which the amulet had been steeped, which did quite as well, and helped to set the stake as quickly as anything else would have done. Various other mischancy things did Isobel Young. She stopped a certain mill, and made it incapable of grinding for eleven days: she forespoke a certain boat, and though all the rest returned to Dunbar full and richly laden, this came back empty, whereby the owner was ruined: she bewitched milk that it would give no cream, and churns, so that no butter would come: she twice crossed the mill water on a wild and stormy night, when the milne horses could not ride it out, and where there was no bridge of stone or wood; but Isobel the witch crossed and recrossed those raging waters under the stormy sky, and came out at the end as dry as if from a kiln. And was not this as unholy as taking off her "curch" at William Meslet's barn-door, and running "thrice about the barn widdershins," whereby the cattle were caused to fall dead in "great suddainty?" Then, as further iniquity, she had dealings with Christian Grinton, another witch, who one night came out of a hole in the roof in the likeness of a cat; and she cast a sickness from off her husband, and laid it on his brother's son, who, knowing full well that he was bewitched, came to the house, and there saw the "firlott"--a certain measure of wheat--running about, and the stuff poppling on the floor, which was the manner of the charm. Drawing his sword, this husband's brother's son ran on the pannel (the accused) to kill her, but was witch-disabled, and only struck the lintel of the door instead; so he went home and died, and Isobel Young was the cause of his death by the cantrip wrought in the locomotive firlott and the poppling grain. Forbye all this, she was seen riding on "ane mare"--at least her apparition was seen so riding--and by her sorcery and devilish handling the mare was made to cast its foal, and since died. So Isobel Young was of no more value to the world or its inheritors, and died by the cord and the faggot, decently, as a convicted witch should. And Margaret Maxwell and her daughter Jane were haled before the Lords of Secret Council for having procured the death of Edward Thomson, Jane's husband, "by the devilish and detestable practice of witchcraft;" and Janet Boyd was tried for "the foul and detestable crime" of receiving the devil's mark, besides being otherwise dishonestly intimate with him; but this was in 1628, and we are now in 1629: and then the Lords of the Privy Council published a thundering edict, forbidding all persons to have recourse to holy words, or to make pilgrimages to chapels, and requiring of its Commissioners to make diligent search in all parts for persons guilty of this superstitious practice, and to have up and put in ward all such as were known to be specially devoted thereto. The meaning of the decree was to plague the Catholics, and Hibbert quotes part of this "Commission against Jesuits, Priests, or Communicants and Papists, going in pilgrimage." But whatever the political significance of the edict, the social effect was to make the search after the White Witches, or Black, hotter and more bitter than ever. ELSPETH CURSETTER AND HER FRIENDS.[29] Elspeth Cursetter was tried, May 29 (still in 1629), for all sorts of bad actions. She bade one of her victims "get the bones of ane tequhyt (linnet), and carry thame in your claithes"; and she gave herself out as knowing evil, and able to do it too, when and to whomsoever she would; and she sat down before the house of a man who refused her admittance--for she was an ill-famed old witch, and every one dreaded her--saying, "Ill might they all thrive, and ill may they speed," whereby in fourteen days' time the man's horse fell just where she had sat, and was killed most lamentably. But she cured a neighbour's cow by drawing a cog of water out of the burn that ran before William Anderson's door, coming back and taking three straws--one for William Anderson's wife, and one for William Coitts' wife, and one for William Bichen's wife--which she threw into the pail with the water, then put the same on the cow's back; by which charm the three straws danced in the water, and the water bubbled as if it had been boiling. Then Elspeth took a little quantity of this charmed water, and thrust her arm up to the elbow into the cow's throat, and on the instant the cow rose up as well as she had ever been; but William Anderson's ox, which was on the hill, dropped down dead. Likewise she worked unholy cantrips for a sick friend with a paddock (toad), in the mouth of a pail of water, which toad was too large to get down the mouth, and when it was cast forth another man sickened and died immediately: and she spake dangerous words to a child, saying, "Wally fall that quhyt head of thine, but the pox will tak the away frae thy mother." As it proved, for the little white head was laid low a short time after, when the small-pox raged through the land. "Thow can tell eneugh yf thow lyke," said the mother to her afterwards, "that could tell that my bairne wold die so long befoir the tyme." "I can tell eneugh if I durst," replied Elspeth, over proud for her safety. But in spite of all this testimony, Elspeth got off with "arbitrary punishment," which did not include burning or strangling, so was luckier than her neighbours. Luckier than poor Jonet Rendall was, who, on the 11th of November (1629), was proved a witch by the bleeding of the corpse of the poor wretch whom she had "enchanted" to his death. For "as soon as she came in the corpse having lain a good space, and not having bled any, immediately bled much blood, as a sure token that she was the author of his death." And had she not said, too, when a certain man refused her a Christmas lodging, "that it wald be weill if the gude man of that hous sould make ane other yule banket" (Christmas banquet); by which curse had he not died in fifteen days after? Wherefore was she a proved murderess as well as witch, and received the doom appointed to both alike. Alexander Drummond was a warlock who cured all kinds of horrid diseases, the very names of which are enough to make one ill; and he had a familiar, which had attended him for "neir this fifty yeiris:" so he was convicted and burnt. Then came Jonet Forsyth, great in her art. She could cast sickness on any one at sea, and cure him again by a salt-water bath; she could transfer any disease from man to beast, so that when the beast died and was opened, nothing could be found where its heart should have been but "a blob of water;" she knew how to charm and sain all kinds of cattle by taking three drops of a beastie's blood on All Hallow E'en, and sprinkling the same in the fire within the innermost chamber; she went at seed time and bewitched a stack of barley belonging to Michael Reid, so that for many years he could never make it into wholesome malt; and this she did for the gain of Robert Reid, changing the "profit" of the grain backwards and forwards between the two, according as they challenged or displeased her. All this did Jonet Forsyth of Birsay, to the terror of her neighbours and the ultimate ruin of herself, both in soul and body. Then came Catherine Oswald,[30] spouse to Robert Aitcheson, in Niddrie, who was brought to trial for being "habite and repute" a witch--defamed by Elizabeth Toppock herself a witch and, as is so often the case, a dear friend of Katie's. Elizabeth need not have been so eager to get rid of her dear friend and gossip, for she was burnt afterwards for the same crimes as those for which poor Catherine suffered the halter and the stake. It seems that Katie was bad for her enemies. She was offended at Adam Fairbairn and his wife, so she made their "twa kye run mad and rammish to died," and also made a gentleman's bairn that they had a-fostering run wood (mad) and die. And she fired William Heriot's kiln, full of grain; and burnt all his goods before his eyes; and made his wife, in a "frantick humour," drown herself; and she cursed John Clark's ground, so that for four years after "by hir sorceries, naether kaill, lint, hempe, nor any other graine" would grow thereon, though doubly "laboured and sowen." She bewitched Thomas Scott by telling him that he looked as well as when Bessie Dobie was living, whereby he immediately fell so deadly sick that he could not proceed further, but was carried on a horse to Newbiggin, where he lay until the morrow, when "a wife" came in and told him he was forespoken. And other things as mischievous--and as true--did Catherine Oswald, as the Record testifies. She was well defended, and might have got off, but that a witness deposed to having seen Mr. John Aird the minister, and a most zealous witch-finder, prick her in the shoulder with a prin, and that no blood followed thereafter, nor did she shrink as with pain or feeling. And as there was no gainsaying the evidence of the witch-mark, Satan and Mr. John Aird claimed their own. Was Catherine's brand like a "blew spot, or a little tate, or reid spots, like flea-biting?" or with "the flesh sunk in and hallow?" according to the description of such places, published by Mr. John Bell, minister of the gospel in Gladsmuir. We are seldom told of what precise character the marks were, only that they were found, pricked, and tested, and the witch hung or burnt on their testimony. SANDIE AND THE DEVIL.[31] Soon after Catherine Oswald's execution, one of her crew or covin, who had been with her on the great storm in "the borrowing days (in anno 1625), on the Brae of the Saltpans," a noted warlock, by name Alexander Hunter, or Hamilton, _alias_ Hatteraick, which last name he had gotten from the devil, was brought to execution on the Castle Hill. It was in 1629 that he was taken. It was proved that on Kingston hills he had met with the devil as a black man, or, as Sinclair says, as a mediciner; and often afterwards he would meet him riding on a black horse, or he would appear as a corbie, cat, or dog. When Alexander wanted him he would beat the ground with a fir stick lustily, crying, "Rise up, foul thief!" for the master got but hard names at times from his servants. This fir stick, and four shillings sterling, the devil gave to him when the compact was first made between them; and he confessed, moreover, that when raised in this manner he could only be got rid of by sacrificing to him a cat or dog, or such like, "quick." Also he set on fire Provost Cockburn's mill of corn, by taking three stalks from his stacks, and burning them on Garleton Hills; and he owned to a deadly hatred against Lady Ormiston, because she once refused him "ane almous," and called him "ane custroune carle." So, to punish her, he and some witches raised the devil in Salton Wood, where he appeared like a man in gray clothes, and gave him the bottom of a blue clew, telling him to lay it at the lady's door: "which he and the women having done, 'the lady and her daughter were soon thereafter bereft of their naturall lyfe.'" But Sinclair's account is the most graphic. I will give it in his own words:-- "Anent Hattaraick, an old Warlock. "This man's name was Sandie Hunter, who called himself Sandie Hamilton, and it seems so called Hattaraik by the devil, and so by others as a Nickname. He was first a Neatherd in East Lothian, to a gentleman there. He was much given to charming and cureing of men and Beasts, by words and spels. His charms sometimes succeeded and sometimes not. On a day, herding his kine upon a Hill side in the summer time, the Devil came to him in form of a Mediciner, and said, 'Sandie, you have too long followed my trade, and never acknowledged me for your master. You must now take on with me, and I will make you more perfect in your calling.' Whereupon the man gave up himself to the devil, and received his Mark with this new name. After this he grew very famous throw the countrey for his charming and cureing of diseases in men and beasts, and turned a vagrant fellow like a Jockie, gaining Meat, Flesh, and Money by his Charms, such was the ignorance of many at that time. "Whatever House he came to, none durst refuse Hattaraik an alms, rather for his ill than his good. One day he came to the yait of Samuelstown, when some Friends after dinner were going to Horse. A young Gentleman, Brother to the Lady, seeing him, switcht him about the ears, saying, 'You Warlok Cairle, what have you to do here?' whereupon the Fellow goes away grumbling, and was overheard to say, 'You shall dear buy this, ere it be long.' This was _Damnum Minatum_. The young Gentleman conveyed his Friends a far way off, and came home that way again, where he slept. After supper, taking his horse and crossing Tine-water to go home, he rides throw a shadowy piece of a Haugh, commonly called the Allers, and the evening being somewhat dark he met with some Persons there that begat a dreadful consternation in him, which for the most part he would never reveal. This was _malum secutum_. When he came home, the Servants observed terror and fear in his countenance. The next day he became distracted, and was bound for several days. His sister, the Lady Samuelstoun, hearing of it, was heard to say, 'Surely that knave Hattaraik is the cause of his Trouble. Call for him in all haste.' When he had come to her, 'Sandie,' says she, 'what is this you have done to my brother William?' 'I told him,' says he, 'I should make him repent his striking of me at the Yait lately.' She gave the Rogue fair words, and promising him his Pock full of Meal with Beef and Cheese, persuaded the Fellow to cure him again. He undertook the business; 'but I must first,' says he, 'have one of his Sarks,' which was soon gotten. What pranks he plaid with it cannot be known. But within a short while the gentleman recovered his health. When Hatteraik came to receive his wadges, he told the Lady, 'Your Brother William shal quickly goe off the Countrey but shall never return.' She, knowing the Fellow's prophecies to hold true, caused her Brother to make a Disposition to her of all his patrimony, to the defrauding of his younger brother George. After that this Warlock had abused the Countrey for a long time, he was at last apprehended at Dunbar, and brought into Edinburgh, and burnt upon the Castle Hill." But not until he had delated several others of hitherto good repute, so that for the next few months the witch-finder's hands were full. THE MIDWIFE'S DOUBLE SIN. Notably was arrested about this time, Alie Nisbet, midwife; and three others. Alie was accused of witchcraft; and of a softer, but as heinous a crime as witchcraft. This she confessed to; but the breaking of the seventh commandment in Christian Scotland, in the year 1632, was a far more dangerous thing than we can imagine possible in our laxer day; and Alie was on the horns of a dilemma, either of which could land her in ruin, death, and perdition. She was accused, among other things, of having taken her labour pains from off a certain woman, using "charmes and horrible words, amongs which thir ware some, _the bones to the fire and the soull to the devill_;" but this Alie denied, strenuously, though she admitted that she might have bathed the woman's legs in warm water, which she had bewitched for good, by putting her fingers into it and running thrice round the bed, widershins; but the spoken charm as given she would have none of. The labour pains, however, left the woman, and were foully and unnaturally cast upon another who had no concern therewith, so that she died in four-and-twenty hours from that time, and Alie was the murderess by all the laws of sorcery. She was accused, also, of having poured some enchanted water on a threshold over which a servant girl, against whom she had a spite, must pass, and the servant girl died therefrom. Alie was wirriet and burnt and troubled the world no more. KATHERINE GRIEVE AND JOHN SINCLAIR.[32] Katherine Grieve, too (1633), was brought to judgment and sentenced to be "taken to the mercat crose and brunt in the cheick, in example of others," with the future prospect, that if she haunted suspected places, or used charms "scho sould be brunt in asches to the dead without dome or law, and that willinglie, of hir owne consent." For Katherine's curses had wronged both man and beast, which evil thing she had brought to pass by the power of the devil her master. However, she was forced to undo her evil, and by laying on of hands cure the sore she had made: so she got off with this smaller punishment of branding, and a rebuke. And there was John Sinclair tried that same year; a cruel villain to others, if loving to his own. For under silence and cloud of night he took his distempered sister, sitting backward on the horse, and carried her from where she lay to the Kirk of Hoy. Then a voice came to him, saying "Seven is too many, but four might do;" and in the morning a boat with five men in it struck on the rocks, and four perished, but one was saved; by which fiendish and unholy sacrifice John Sinclair's sister was cured. He was proved to be their murderer, for when the dead men were found, and he was "forcit to lay his handis vpoun thame, they guishit out with bluid and watter at the mouth and noise." John Sinclair's thread of life needed no more waxing to make it run smoothly and easily. The hangman knew where the knot lay; and cut it to the perfect satisfaction of all the country. BESSIE BATHGATE'S NIPS.[33] A year after this Bessie Bathgate, spouse to Alexander Rae, fell into trouble and the hands of the police. George Sprot, wobster, had some cloth of Bessie's, which he kept too long for her thinking. She went and took it violently away, and nipped his child in the thigh till it skirled, "and of which nip it never convalesced, but dwamed thereof and died by hir sorcerie." Also, said Sprot's wife, giving her child an egg that came out of Bessie's house there struck out a lump as big as a goose egg upon the child, which continued on her till her death, which was occasioned by nothing else than this "enchanted egg." Furthermore she threatened Sprot that "he should never get his Sunday's meat to the fore by his work;" and he forthwith fell into extreme poverty, by which her words came true. To William Donaldson she said--he outrunning her as she chased him to beat him for calling her a witch--"Weill, sir, the devill be in your feit," and he fell lame and impotent straightways, and so continued ever since. Other things of the same kind did she, bewitching Margaret Horne's cow that it died, "and that night it died there was women seen dancing on the rigging of the byre;" also she was seen by "two young men at 12 howers at even (when all persons are in their beds) standing barelegged and in hir sark valicot, at the back of hir yard, conferring with the devill, who was in gray cloaths;" which, with other offences of the same nature, were, we should have thought, heavy enough to have lost a world. But Elizabeth Bathgate, spouse to Alexander Rae, was acquitted; though how the verdict came about no one can possibly understand. It was not that any fit of mercy or humanity had come over the people. More than twenty poor wretches suffered about this time, Sir George Home of Manderston, being one of the chief of the prosecutors: for Sir George and his wife did not live very lovingly together, and she was given to witches and warlocks--or they said she was--to see if she could not get rid of him by enchantments and sorceries: so Sir George had a pleasant mixture of spite and self-defence in his onslaught, and the whole country-side was in a stir. About this time too, John Balfour, of Corhouse, took on himself the office of witch-finder and pricker by thrusting "preens" into the marks; but he was not accepted quite blindly, and measures were taken for examining his pretensions to this special branch of knowledge. In general the pricker was the master of the situation, and brought all the rest to his feet. BESSIE SKEBISTER.[34] All the honest men of the isle knew Bessie Skebister. She was the shrewdest witch in the whole country, and it was a usual thing with them when they thought their boats in danger to send to her to know the truth; and, "Giff Bessie say it is weill, it is weill" was a common proverb in the Orkney Islands. She did other things besides foreknowing the fall of storms, for she took James Sandieson when in a strange distemper and tormented him greatly. "In his sleip, and oftymes waking," says the dittay, "he was tormented with yow, Bessie, and vther two with yow, quhom he knew not, cairying him to the sea, and to the fyre, to Norroway, Yetland, and to the south--that ye had ridden all this wayes, with ane brydle in his mouth." Moreover, Bessie was a "dreamer of dreams," as well as a rider of sick men's souls; so she was strangled and burnt. THE TRIAL OF SPIRITS.[35] The trial of Katherine Craigie (1640), had a certain dash of poetry and romance in it, not often found in these woeful stories. Friend Robbie--now friend, now foe--lay a-dying, and Katherine must needs go see him with the rest. The wild waves were beating round that rugged Orkney Isle, when Katherine went over the heather to Robbie's house. "What now, Robbie! ye are going to die!" she said. "I grant that I prayed ill for yow, and now I see that prayer hath taken effect. Jonet," quoth she, turning to the wife, "if I durst trust in yow, I sould knaw quhat lyeth on your guidman and holdis him downe. I sould tell whether it was ane hill spirit, ane kirk spirit, or ane water spirit that so troubles him." Jonet was too anxious not to promise secrecy or help, or anything else that Katherine wished; so the next morning, before daylight, Katherine brought three stones to Robbie's house, and put them into the fire, where they remained until after sunset. While the night was passing, they were taken from the fire, and put under the threshold of the door, then, in the early morning, thrown, one after the other, into a pail of water, where Jonet heard one of them "chirle and chirme." Upon which Katherine said that it was a kirk spirit that troubled the guidman Robbie, and he must be washed with the water in which the stones had "chirled and chirmed." This ceremony was repeated thrice, and at the third time Katherine herself washed Robbie, on whom this unusual cleansing had most powerful and beneficial effects. When one thinks of the normal state of filth in which these honest people lived, it is not surprising if any form of ablution proved of a most supernatural benefit. But Katherine Craigie got into the trouble from which there was no escape; and friend Robbie went back to his dirt, persuaded of the Satanic agency of a bath. Quite as full of poetic feeling was James Knarstoun's manner of charming with stones, when he took one stone for the ebb, another for the hill, and the third for the kirkyard, listening carefully as to what stone should make the "bullering" noise that would betray the tormenting spirit, and enable the magician to send him home again: a process through which Katherine Carey went (1617) when she found that her patient was troubled with the spirit of the sea, which would not let him bide in peace and quiet. Such touches as these redeem the subject from the sad monotony of sorrow and death which else pervades it from end to end, and lift it from the domain of the devil into the brighter and lovelier world of the Spirits of Nature. SIXTEEN HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE. In 1643 there was a fierce onslaught against the poor persecuted servants of the devil. Thirty women suffered at once in Fife alone; and the more zealous of the ministers hounded on the people to terrible cruelties. There was one John Brugh,[36] "a notorious warlock in the parachin of Fossoquhy, by the space of 36 yearis," who was wirreit at a stake and burnt; and Janet Barker and Margaret Lauder, "indwellers and servands in Edinburgh," who came to confession boldly, and showed that they had read the story of Europa to some purpose, though to a great deal of confusion. They accused Janet Cranstoun of seducing them, by promising them that if they gave themselves over to her and the devil, they should be "as trimlie clad as the best servands in Edinburgh." Coupled with the fact that they had witch-marks, their confession was accepted as undeniable, and their fate inevitably sealed. And there was Marion Cumlaquoy,[37] in Birsay, who bewitched David Cumlaquoy's corn seed, and made it run out too soon. She had been very anxious to know when David would sow, and when she was told, she went and stood "just to his face" all the time he was casting, and that year his seed failed him, so that he could only sow a third of his land; though he had as much grain as heretofore, and it had never run out too soon all the years he had farmed that land. And she went to Robert Carstairs' house by sunrise one day, bringing milk to his good mother, though not used to show such attention; and as she left she turned herself three several times "withershins" about the fire, and that year Robert Carstairs' "bear (barley) was blew and rottin," and his oats gave no proper meal, but made all who ate thereof heart-sick, albeit both bear and oats were good and fresh when he put them in the yard. And if all this was not proof against Marion Cumlaquoy, what would the Orkney courts hold as proof? As the past, so the present; and Marion Cumlaquoy must learn in prison and at the stake the evils that honest folk found in her power of "enchanting" corn and crops. There were many others in this same year, to catalogue whom would become at least wearisome and monotonous: they must be passed by unmentioned, and left to the silence and oblivion which is the privilege of the unfortunate dead. But among the victims was one Agnes Finnie,[38] a bitter-tongued, evil-tempered old hag, who had a curse and a threat for every one who offended her; who killed young Fairlie with a terrible disorder, because he called her "Winnie Annie;" and laid so frightful a disease on Beatrix Nisbet, for some other trifling offence, that she lost the use of her tongue; who made a "grit jist" (great joist) fall down on the leg of Euphame Kincaid's daughter, because Euphame called her a witch on being called by her a drunkard; and appeared to John Cockburn in the night--the doors and windows being fast closed--terrifying him by her hideous old apparition in his sleep, because he had disagreed with her daughter; and who did all other wicked and uncanny things, like a raving, unprincipled, old hag as she was. She even forespoke Alexander Johnstone's bairne, so that it was eleven years old before it could walk, and all because she was not made godmother, or "had not gotten its name;" and she made Margaret Williamson sick and blind, by saying most outrageously, "The devill blaw thé blinde!" And she was a bad mother and evil exemplar to her daughter, bringing her up to be as vile as herself, at least in the way of quarrelling and fighting with her neighbours, and then backing her with an unfair amount of her own supernatural powers. Thus, one day, Margaret Robinson, the daughter in question, was using high words with Mawse Gourlay, spouse of Andrew Wilson, and Mawse, in a rage, called her "ane witche's get," which was about the worst thing that could be said in those days between a couple of scolds. "Gif I be ane witche's get," cried Margaret, in extremest fury, "the devill ryve the saull out of ye befoir I come again!" After which cruel and devilish imprecation, helped on by Winnie Annie's horrible art used at Margaret's instigation, Andrew Wilson became "frenatik" and stark mad: his eyes starting out of his head in the most terrible and frightful manner as he went about, ever pronouncing these words as his ordinary and continual speech--the perpetual raving of his madness--"The devill ryve the saull out o' me!" For all which crimes--though she was ably defended--though, when her house was searched, "there was neither picture, toad, nor any such thing found therein, which ever any witch in the world was used to practize,"--yet the evidence was held to be too strong, and Winnie Annie Finnie was ordained to be "brunt to the deid," and her ashes cast out to the winds of heaven. Janet Brown[39] was another of those who got into hot quarters. She confessed that she had charmed James Hutton and Janet Scott with these words:-- "Our Lord forth did raide, His foal's foot slade; Our Lord down lighted, His foal's foot righted; Saying flesh to flesh, blood to blood, and stane to stane, In our Lord his name." She said this was a charm that had been learnt her by a nameless man from Strathmiglo; but Margaret Fisher,[40] in Weardie, spoke it somewhat differently. She had for her spell:-- "Our Lord to hunting red, His sool-soot sled, Down he lighted, His sool-soot righted; Blod to blod, Shinew to shinew, To the other sent in God's name, In the name of the Father, Sone, and Holy Ghost." Either version was equally efficacious as a cure to the sick and a curse to the whole; and equally deadly as a crime in those who used it. And there was Margaret Young, "ane honest young woman of good reputation, without any scandal or blot," who lay miserably in prison for ten weeks, without trial or release; but she got off at last on her husband's becoming her surety. And Jonet Thomeson, who bewitched Andrew Burwick's corn, so that when carried to the mill it leapt up into his wife's face like mites, and as it were "nipped" her face until it swelled; and when it was made into "meat," neither he nor his wife could abide the smell of it; and when they did manage to eat it, it tasted like pins ("went owre lyke prinsis"), and could not be quenched for thirst: and the dogs would not eat of it, and the neighbours would not buy it; so poor Andrew Burwick's gear was destroyed, and his means most sorely diminished. For all which deadly sorcery and malice Jonet Thomeson, _alias_ Greibok, was made to smart severely. Marion Peebles[41] came to an untimely end, not unreasonably, according to the witch-haters. She was "a wicked, devilish, fearful, and abominable curser," and the world could not be too soon rid of her; for had she not changed herself into the likeness of an unchristian beast, a mere shapeless monster, a huge and ugly "pellack-quhaill" (porpoise), and in this form wrecked the boat of Edward Halcro, to whom she and her husband had "ane deadlie and veneficial malice?" Halcro and four other men were in the boat, and public suspicion pointed at once to Marion, and affirmed this wreck to be caused by her wicked deed. So when two of the dead bodies were brought to land, she and her husband had to undergo the _bahr-recht_--the ordeal by touch of the dead--to prove themselves innocent or guilty. When they came where they lay the "said umquhile Edward bled at the collar-bane or craig-bane;" the other in the hand and fingers, "gushing out bluid thairat, to the great admiration of the beholders, and judgment of the Almytie." Many and heavy were Marion's misdeeds. She cursed Janet Robinson, and "accordingly showers of pains and fits fell upon the victim." She looked upon a cow, and it "crappit togidder till no lyfe was leukit for her." She took away the profit of Edward Halcro's brewing, and destroyed the milk of Andrew Erasmusson's kye for thirteen days. Indeed, her character was so well known that when Swene, her husband, was working in a peat moss where a sickly fellow was one of the gang, his fellows would ask him seriously "if he could not make his wife go to her pobe (foster-father) the devil, and bid him loose a knot, so that the man might get back his health?" Once she cast a sickness on a woman, then took it from her and flung it on a calf, which went mad and died; and she crippled a man, then cured him under compulsion, by putting her fingers first to his leg and then to the ground, which she did twice, muttering to herself; but the report of this getting about, she was angry and banned the man once more, yet once more was forced to cure him;--this time by means of a bannock prepared with her own hands, whereby she cast his malady on a cow. Poor cowey died of her strange sickness, and poor Marion died of a worse disease--the rope and the faggot: and then the neighbourhood slept in peace. SINCLAIR'S STORIES.[42] On a certain day in a certain month, A.D. 1644, a woman went to the house of another woman in Borrowstonness. She went early, and instantly fell to mauling and pulling her, crying, "Thou traitour thief, thou thought to destroy my son this morning, but it was not in thy power!" And then she pulled her mutch from off her head, and mauled and maltreated her anew. Now the meaning of the row was, that this woman had a son out at sea, whom she, so cruelly assaulted, had sought to destroy by means of a sudden storm raised by magic means this very day. The storm was actually raised, and many of the crew suffered; but the son of the woman at Borrowstonness was washed overboard by one wave, and washed on board again by another wave, which so filled all the mariners with amaze that they came ashore. The dispute between the two women becoming noised abroad, and the thing being as the one had said, it was found that they were both in equal fault--that the one had done, and the other known, too much; wherefore they were burnt as witches, and the world had the satisfaction of hearing them confess before they died. Another woman, "about thirty and two, or three and thirty years of age, a most beautiful and comely person as was in the country about," wife to one Goodaile, a cooper, in Carrin, was fyled for a witch and put in prison. She was the devil's favourite and dear delight; and at their meetings she was the person whom "he did most court and embrace, calling her constantly my dear mistress, setting her always at his right hand, to the great discontent of his old haggs, whom, as they now conceived, he slighted;" but her time came at last, and the law caught hold of her in place of the devil, and gave her a yet more stringent embrace. James Fleming, a sea-captain, and a man of great personal courage and physical strength, was set to watch her, for the magistrates feared lest the devil should attempt her rescue, since he loved her so well; and to him she said, that if she got no deliverance by one o'clock in the morning, she would lay her breast open to him and confess freely. James Fleming, a little alarmed at this, and not liking to encounter the devil single-handed, took down fourteen of his ship's company with him, "not forgetting the reading of Scripture and earnest prayer to God." Sure enough the foul fiend came: for on a sudden at midnight a tremendous hurricane arose, which unroofed the house where they all were, and threatened to bring the whole place about their ears, and a voice was heard calling to her by a strange name to come away: "at which time she made three several loups upward, increasing gradually till her feet were as high as his breast." But though James Fleming's hair was standing widershins on his head, and though his heart failed him for dread and fear, and he "beteached" himself to God "with great amazement," yet his muscles continued as serviceable as ever, and at last got the better even of the Prince of Darkness. He held this beautiful and comely person in his powerful arms, and kept her there, through all her struggles to get free; and at last succeeded in throwing her down upon the ground, where for some time she grovelled and foamed like one in the falling sickness, and then sank into a deep sleep. When she awaked she complained bitterly of the devil, saying how that he had promised to release her and carry her over to Ireland, touching at Paisley by the way, where she had a sister living; but now she saw through all his treachery and perfidiousness, and understood how she had been made his dupe. She was burnt in all penitence and good conduct, as was also another woman about the same time, who, putting up her arm to swear that she was not a witch, had it suddenly withered and stiffened so that she could not bring it back again; nor was she able to do so, until a minister who was there, had intreated God in her behalf; for the ministers were always men of mighty power on such occasions, and either made or marred at their pleasure. If they chose to accept a case as possession, they prayed and exorcised; but if it seemed good to them to call it witchcraft, then the poor wretch's life was doomed, and no man might hope to save. It was very seldom they cared so much for humanity as to choose the more merciful of the two absurdities. Sometimes, though, the devil was as good as his word, and made at least an attempt, if a clumsy one, to release his servants: as when he took Helen Eliot from the steeple of Culross where she was confined, and carried her in his arms through the air. He might have landed her in safety somewhere--who knows?--had she not cried out, "O God! whither are you taking me?" At which words he let her fall "at the distance from the steeple of about the breadth of the street of Edinburgh, whereby she broke her legs and otherwise seriously injured herself." Many thousand people flocked to see the dimple which her heels had made, and over which no grass would grow again. So at last they built a stone dyke round it, and kept the impression safe. In 1649 Lady Pittathrow was delated of witchcraft. She was put in prison waiting for her trial; but one morning she was found dead, having strangled herself, or been strangled by the devil--the world might determine which according to its pleasure. Shortly after, Bessie Grahame was apprehended for a few drunken words said against John Rankin's wife, who had since died. During a confinement of thirteen weeks she was visited by the minister, who found her obdurate in confession, and was much inclined to find her innocent of crime. But Alexander Bogue, a pricker, came to examine her, and discovered the mark, into which he thrust a pin, which neither pained nor drew blood. Still she was held to be innocent, until one day Mr. James Fergusson, the minister, heard her talking to the devil as soon as she was alone. He knew it was the devil, for his voice was hollow and ghoustie, and the servant, Alexander Sympson, was like to have fallen back for fear. Still Bessie would never confess anything beyond general unworthiness and the usual tale of vague misdeeds, owning, indeed, to a special horror of him, the minister, and how she was not "let to love him," as indeed was no special miracle; and then she fell to railing at him bitterly, which was less a miracle than all else. So she was burnt, dying obdurate and unconfessed; and thus another murder reeked up to heaven, crying aloud for vengeance, because John Rankin's wife died suddenly, and an intemperate old woman swore in her cups and had a habit of speaking to herself. Agnes Gourlay was accused of charming milk. She told Anna Simpson to throw a small quantity of the milk into the "grupe" or sewer of the byre, saying, "God betak us to! May be they are under the earth that have as much need of it as they that are above the earth!" After which bread and salt were to be put into the cows' ears, and milk would come. Agnes got off by penance and confession: which was more than Janet Couts did, or Archibald Watt, _alias_ "Sole the Paitlet;" though eleven other poor creatures delated escaped their doom, partly because the burgh of Lanark disliked having so many mouths to feed in prison pending their trial. At Lauder, in 1649, Hob Grieve was accused of witchcraft. Twenty years agone his wife, who had been burnt for a witch, told Hob that he might get rich if he would follow her counsel and go along with her. So he went with her to a haugh on Gallow-water, to meet, as she said, a gentleman there; but he saw only a large mastiff dog, "which amazed him." At last came the devil as a black man, telling him that if he would take suit and service with him he should be made rich. He was to be officer at the meetings, and hold the door at the sabbaths. Hob consented, and for eighteen years held that office; but it does not seem that the foul fiend kept his part of the condition, for Hob had enough to do to find salt for his porridge. He was always poor, and remained poor to the end, with all the kicks and none of the halfpence; and for his eighteen years of servitude got only suspicion and ill-will, without fat or fry to comfort him. When taken, he "delated" many, who, for the most part, confessed. After he had filled the prison, so that it could hold no more, he accused another still, a woman of Lauder. The magistrate kept the secret, wishing to wait until some of the accused were "emptied out," having nowhere to put her; but the devil, always at mischief, went to her in the night time, and told her what Hob Grieve had said. Next day she arose and came to the prison, railing at Hob, calling him warlock and slave to the devil, and what not. She was told to go home, but she sat down on the Tolbooth stairs, and said she would never stir until she and that slave of Satan had been confronted. The bailie himself came to her, and told her to go home; but that was too mild a proceeding. "No," she cried, "I must be set face to face with that rascal who has delated me, an honest woman, for a witch." She was set face to face with him, and she fell down on her bare knees, and cursed him. Says she, "Thou common thief, how dare thou for thy soul say that ever before this time thou saw me or I saw thee, or ever was in thy company, either alone or with others?" Hob listened to her railings patiently, till commanded by the bailie to speak, when says he, "How came she then to know that I had called her a witch? Surely none but the devil, thy old master and mine, has told thee so much." "The devil and thou perish together, for he is not my master though he be thine. I defy the devil and all his works!" said the woman. Then Hob reminded her of the many times and places where they had met while in the same service; whereat she cried, "Now I perceive that the devil is a lyar and a murderer from the beginning, for this night he came to me, and told me to come and abuse thee; and never come away till I was confronted with thee, and he assured me that thou would deny all and say, thou false tongue, thou lyest!" She then confessed all with which she was charged, and was executed. Hob was a very penitent sinner: being now a mere lunatic, he was easy to manage, and exceeding confidential in his confessions. He said that once in Musselburgh water the devil had tried to drown him when he had a heavy creil on his back; and even since he had been in prison he had come to cast him into the fire. But though there was a very crowd "fylit" by this poor maniac, he was innocent of the death of a certain woman who was hanged a short time after. The magistrates, glutted to satiety with victims, wanted to save her; but she would accept no chance offered to her. She had been fyled as a witch, she said, and as a witch she would die. And had not the devil once, when she was a young lassie, kissed her, and given her a new name? Reason enough why she should die, if even nothing worse lay behind. At last the day of her execution came, and she was taken out to be burnt with the rest. On her way to the scaffold she made this lamentable speech:--"Now all you that see me this day, know that I am now to die a witch by my own confession; and I free all men, especially the ministers and magistrates, of the guilt of my blood. I take it wholly on myself. My blood be upon my own head; and as I must make answer to the God of heaven presently, I declare I am as free of witchcraft as any child; but being delated by a malicious woman, and put in prison under the name of a witch, disowned by my husband and friends, and seeing no ground of hope of my coming out of prison or ever coming in credit again, through a temptation of the devil, I made up that confession on purpose to destroy my own life, being weary of it, and choosing rather to die than to live." How many poor wretches had been like this unhappy creature--disowned by husband and friends, seeing no ground of hope of ever coming in credit again, and therefore in despair choosing rather to die than to live! In this special case even the magistrates, usually so passionately determined that all the accused should be found guilty and suffer death, even they seem to have sought her release, and to have refused the evidence of her confession as long as they could; but the times were not sufficiently enlightened for them to refuse it altogether; and so she gained the fiery goal whither her anguish and despair impelled her. MANIE HALIBURTON.[43] In 1649, John Kinnaird, the witch-finder, made deposition that he had "pricked" Patrik Watson, of West Fenton, and Manie Haliburton, his spouse, and that he had found the devil's mark on Patrik's back a little under the point of his left shoulder, and on Manie's neck a little above her left shoulder; of which marks they were not sensible (had no feeling in them), neither came there any blood when pricked. So Manie, seeing that the scent was hot and the game up, made confession, and saved further trouble. She said that eighteen years ago, the devil had come to her in likeness of a man, calling himself a physician, saying that he had good salves, and specially oylispek (oil of spike or spikenard), wherewith he would cure her daughter, then sick. So she bought some of his salves, and gave him two English shillings for her bargain, forbye bread and milk and a pint of ale. In eight days' time he came again, and stayed all night; and the next morning, Patrik being "forth" and Manie yet in bed, she became more intimately acquainted with the devil than an honest woman should. We do not read that Manie was tortured, and, considering that it was not an unusual thing to keep suspected witches twenty-eight days and nights on bread and water, they being stripped stark naked, with only a haircloth over them, and laid on a cold stone, or to put them into hair-shirts steeped in vinegar, so that the skin might be pulled from off them, we feel that poor Manie got off pretty well with only cremation as the result of her mad confessions. But one of the most extraordinary things of all was that wonderful bit of knavery and credulity called THE DEVIL OF GLENLUCE,[44] when Master Tom Campbell set the whole country in a flame, and brought no end of notice and sympathy upon his house and family. In 1654 one Gilbert Campbell was a weaver in Glenluce, a small village not far from Newton Stewart. Tom, his eldest son, and the most important personage in the drama, was a student at Glasgow College; and there was a certain old blaspheming beggar, called Andrew Agnew--afterwards hanged at Dumfries for his atheism, having said, in the hearing of credible witnesses, that "there was no God but salt, meal, and water"--who every now and then came to Glenluce to ask alms. One day old Andrew visited the Campbells as usual, but got nothing; at which he cursed and swore roundly, and forthwith sent a devil to haunt the house, for it was soon after this refusal that the stirs began, and the connection was too apparent to be denied. For what could they be but the malice of the devil sent by old Andrew in revenge? Young Tom Campbell was the worst beset of all, the demon perpetually whistling and rioting about him, and playing him all sorts of diabolical and malevolent tricks. Once, too, Jennet, the young daughter, going to the well, heard a whistling behind her like that produced by "the small slender glass whistles of children," and a voice like the damsel's, saying, "I'll cast thee, Jennet, into the well! I'll cast thee, Jennet, into the well!" About the middle of November, when the days were dark and the nights long, things got very bad. The foul fiend threw stones in at the doors and windows, and down the chimney head; cut the warp and threads of Campbell's loom; slit the family coats and bonnets and hose and shoon into ribbons; pulled off the bed-clothes from the sleeping children, and left them cold and naked, besides administering sounding slaps on those parts of their little round rosy persons usually held sacred to the sacrifices of the rod; opened chests and trunks, and strewed the contents over the floor; knocked everything about, and ill-treated bairn and brother; and, in fact, persecuted the whole family in the most merciless manner. The weaver sent his children away, thinking their lives but barely safe, and _in their absence there were no assaults whatever_--a thing to be specially noted. But on the minister's representing to him that he had done a grievous sin in thus withdrawing them from God's punishments, they were brought back again in contrition. Only Tom was left behind, and nothing ensued until Tom appeared; but unlucky Tom brought back the devil with him, and then there was no more peace to be had. On the Sunday following Master Tom's return, the house was set on fire--the devil's doing: but the neighbours put the flames out again before much damage had ensued. Monday was spent in prayer; but on Tuesday the place was again set on fire, to be again saved by the neighbours' help. The weaver, in much trouble, went to the minister, and besought him to take back that unlucky Tom, whom the devil so cruelly followed and molested; which request he, after a time, "condescended to," though assuring the weaver that he would find himself deceived if he thought that the devil would quit with the boy. And so it proved; for Tom, having now indoctrinated some of his juniors with the same amount of mechanics and legerdemain as he himself possessed, managed that they should be still sore troubled--the demon cutting their clothes, throwing peats down the chimney, pulling off turf and "feal" from the roof and walls, stealing their coats, pricking their poor bodies with pins, and raising such a clamour that there was no peace or rest to be had. The case was becoming serious. Glenluce objected to be made the head-quarters of the devil; and the ministers convened a solemn meeting for fast and humiliation; the upshot of which was that weaver Campbell was led to take back his unlucky Tom, with the devil or without him. For this was the point at issue in the beginning; the motive of which is not hard to be discovered. Whereupon Tom returned; but as he crossed the threshold he heard a voice "forbidding him to enter that house, or any other place where his father's calling was exercised." Was Tom, the Glasgow student, afraid of being made a weaver, consent or none demanded? In spite of the warning voice he valiantly entered, and his persecutions began at once. Of course they did. They were tremendous, unheard of, barbarous; in fact, so bad that he was forced to return once more for a time to the minister's house; but his imitator or disciple left behind carried on business in his absence. On Monday, the 12th day of February, the demon began to speak to the family, who, nothing afraid, answered quite cheerily: so they and the devil had long confidential chats together, to the great improvement of mind and morals. The ministers, hearing of this, convened again, and met at weaver Campbell's, to see what they could do. As soon as they entered, Satan began: "Quum literatum is good Latin," quoth he. These were the first words of the Latin rudiments, as taught in the grammar-school. Tom's classical knowledge was coming into play. After a while he cried out, "A dog! a dog!" The minister, thinking he was alluded to, answered, "He thought it no evil to be reviled of him;" to which Satan replied civilly, "It was not you, sir, I spoke to: I meant the dog there;" for there was a dog standing behind backs. They then went to prayer, during which time Tom--or the devil--remained reverently silent; his education being not yet carried out to the point of scoffing. Immediately after prayer was ended, a counterfeit voice cried out, "Would you know the witches of Glenluce? I will tell of them," naming four or five persons of indifferent repute, but one of whom was dead. The weaver told the devil this, thinking to have caught him tripping; but the foul fiend answered promptly, "It is true she is dead long ago, but her spirit is living with us in the world." The minister replied, saying, "Though it was not convenient to speak to such an excommunicated and intercommuned person, 'the Lord rebuke thee, Satan, and put thee to silence. We are not to receive information from thee, whatsoever fame any person goes under. Thou art seeking but to seduce this family, for Satan's kingdom is not divided against itself.'" After which little sparring there was prayer again; so Tom did not take much by this move. All the while the young Glasgow student was very hardly holden, so that there was more prayer on his special behalf. The devil then said, on their rising, "Give me a spade and a shovel, and depart from the house for seven days, and I will make a grave and lie down in it, and shall trouble you no more." The good man Campbell answered, "Not so much as a straw shall be given thee, through God's assistance, even though that would do it. God shall remove thee in due time." Satan cried out, impudently, "I shall not remove for you. I have my commission from Christ to tarry and vex this family." Says the minister, coming to the weaver's assistance, "A permission thou hast, indeed; but God will stop it in due time." Says the demon, respectfully, "I have, sir, a commission which perhaps will last longer than yours." And the minister died in the December of that year, says Sinclair. Furthermore, the demon said he had given Tom his commission to keep. Interrogated, that young gentleman replied in an off-hand way, that "he had had something put into his pocket, but it did not tarry." They then began to search about for the foul fiend, and one gentleman said, "We think this voice speaks out of the children." The foul fiend, very angry at this--or Master Tom frightened--cries out, "You lie! God shall judge you for your lying; and I and my father will come and fetch you to hell with warlock thieves." So the devil discharged (forbade) the gentleman to speak anything, saying, "Let him that hath a commission speak (meaning the minister), for he is the servant of God." The minister then had a little religious controversy with the devil, who answered at last, simply, "I knew not these scriptures till my father taught me them." Nothing of all this disturbing the easy faith of the audience, they, through the minister, whom alone he would obey, conjured him to tell them who he was; whereupon he said that he was an evil spirit come from the bottomless pit of hell, to vex this house, and that Satan was his father. And then there appeared a naked hand, and an arm from the elbow downward, beating on the floor till the house did shake again, and a loud and fearful crying, "Come up, father! come up, father! I will send my father among ye! See! there he is behind your backs!" Says the minister, "I saw, indeed, a hand and an arm, when the stroke was given and heard." Says the devil, "Saw ye that? It was not my hand, it was my father's; my hand is more black in the loof." "Oh!" said Gilbert Campbell, in an ecstacy, "that I might see thee as well as I hear thee!" "Would ye see me?" says the foul thief. "Put out the candle, and I shall come but[45] the house among you like fire-balls; I shall let ye see me indeed." Alexander Bailie of Dunraget said to the minister, "Let us go ben,[46] and see if there is any hand to be seen." But the demon exclaimed, "No! let him (the minister) come ben alone: he is a good honest man: his single word may be believed." He then abused Mr. Robert Hay, a very honest gentleman, very ill with his tongue, calling him witch and warlock: and a little while after, cried out, "A witch! a witch! there's a witch sitting upon the ruist! take her away." He meant that there was a hen sitting on one of the rafters. They then went to prayer again, and, when ended, the devil cried out, "If the good man's son's prayers at the College of Glasgow did not prevail with God, my father and I had wrought a mischief here ere now." Ah, Master Tom, did you then know so much of prayer and the inclining of the counsels of God? Alexander Bailie said, "Well, I see you acknowledge a God, and that prayer prevails with him, and therefore we must pray to God, and commit the event to him." To whom the devil replied, having an evident spite against Alexander Bailie, "Yea, sir, you speak of prayer, with your broad-lipped hat" (for the gentleman had lately gotten a hat in the fashion with broad lips); "I'll bring a pair of shears from my father's which shall clip the lips of it a little." And Alexander Bailie presently heard a pair of shears go clipping round his hat, "which he lifted, to see if the foul thief had meddled with it." Then the fiend fell to prophesying. "Tom was to be a merchant, Bob a smith, John a minister, and Hugh a lawyer," all of which came to pass. Turning to Jennet, the good man's daughter, he cried, "Jennet Campbell, Jennet Campbell, wilt thou cast me thy belt?" Quoth she, "What a widdy would thou do with my belt?" "I would fain," says he, "fasten my loose bones together." A younger daughter was sitting "busking her puppies" (dressing her puppets, dolls), as young girls are used to do. He threatens to "ding out her harns," that is, to brain her; but says she quietly, "No, if God be to the fore," and so falls to her work again. The good wife having brought out some bread, was breaking it, so that every one of the company should have a piece. Cries he, "Grissel Wyllie! Grissel Wyllie! give me a piece of that haver bread. I have gotten nothing this day but a bit from Marritt," that is, as they speak in the country, Margaret. The minister said to them all, "Beware of that! for it is sacrificing to the devil!" Marritt was then called, and inquired if she had given the foul fiend any of her haver bread. "No," says she; "but when I was eating my due piece this morning, something came and clicked it out of my hands." The evening had now come, and the company prepared to depart; the minister, and the minister's wife, Alexander Bailie of Dunraget, with his broad-lipped hat, and the rest. But the devil cried out in a kind of agony-- "Let not the minister go! I shall burn the house if he goes." Weaver Campbell, desperately frightened, besought the minister to stay; and he, not willing to see them come to mischief, at last consented. As he turned back into the house, the devil gave a great gaff of laughing, saying, "Now, sir! you have done my bidding!" which was unhandsome of Tom--very. "Not thine, but in obedience to God, have I returned to bear this man company whom thou dost afflict," says the minister, nowise discomposed, and not disdaining to argue matters clearly with the devil. Then the minister "discharged" all from speaking to the demon, saying, "that when it spoke to them they must only kneel and pray to God." This did not suit the demon at all. He roared mightily, and cried, "What! will ye not speak to me? I shall strike the bairns, and do all manner of mischief!" No answer was returned; and again the children were slapped and beaten on their rosy parts--where children are accustomed to be whipped. After a while this ended too, and then the fiend called out to the good-wife, "Grissel, put out the candle!" "Shall I do it?" says she to the minister's wife. "No," says that discreet person, "for then you shall obey the devil." Upon which the devil shouted, with a louder voice, "Put out the candle!" No one obeyed, and the candle continued burning. "Put out the candle, I say!" cries he, more terribly than before. Grissel, not caring to continue the uproar, put it out. "And now," says he, "I will trouble you no more this night." For by this time I should suppose that Master Tom was sleepy, and tired, and hoarse. Once again the ministers and gentlemen met for prayer and exorcism; when it is to be presumed that Tom was not with them, for everything was quiet; but soon after the stirs began again, and Tom and the rest were sore molested. Gilbert Campbell made an appeal to the Synod of Presbyters, a committee of whom appointed a special day of humiliation in February, 1656, for the freeing of the weaver's house from this affliction. In consequence whereof, from April to August, the devil was perfectly quiet, and the family lived together in peace. But after this the mischief broke out again afresh. Perhaps Tom had come home from college, or his father had renewed his talk of settling him firmly to his own trade: whatever the cause, the effect was certain, the devil had come back to Glenluce. One day, as the good-wife was standing by the fire, making the porridge for the children, the demon came and snatched the "tree-plate," on which was the oatmeal, out of her hand, and spilt all the meal. "Let me have the tree-plate again," says Grissel Wyllie, very humbly; and it came flying back to her. "It is like if she had sought the meal too she might have got it, such is his civility when he is intreated," says Sinclair. But this would have been rather beyond even Master Tom's power of legerdemain. Things after this went very ill. The children were daily thrashed with heavy staves, and every one in the family underwent much personal damage; until, as a climax, on the eighteenth of September, the demon said he would burn the house down, and did, in fact, set it on fire. But it was put out again, before much damage was done. After a time--probably by Tom's going away, or becoming afraid of being found out--the devil was quieted and laid for ever; and Master Tom employed his intellect and energies in other ways than terrifying his father's family to death, and making stirs which went by the name of demoniac. This account is taken almost verbatim from an article of mine in "All the Year Round;" and if a larger space has been given to this than to many other stories, it is because there was more colouring, and more distinctness in the drawing, than in anything else that I have read. Though scarcely belonging to a book on witches, there is yet a hook and eye, if a very slender one, in the fact that the old beggar, Andrew Agnew, was hanged; and we may be sure that it was not only his atheism, but also his naughty tricks with Satan, and his connection with the devil of Glenluce, that helped to fit the hangman's rope round his neck. There are many other stories of haunted houses, notably, Mr. Monpesson's at Tedworth caused by the Demon Drummer, and the Woodstock Devil who harried the Parliamentary Commissioners to within an inch of their lives, and others to the full as interesting; but there is no hook and eye with them--nothing by which they can be hung on to the sad string of witches, or witchcraft murders. Baxter has two or three such stories; and the curious in such matters will find a large amount of interesting matter in the various works referred to at the foot of the pages; matter which could not be introduced here, because of its not belonging strictly to the subject in hand. I do not think that any candid or unprejudiced person will fail in seeing the dark shadow of fraud and deceit flung over every such account remaining. The importance of which, to me, is the evident and distinct likeness between these stories and the marvels going on now in modern society. JONET WATSON AND THE DEVIL IN GREEN. Steadily went on these appalling judicial crimes. In February, 1658, two women and a man were in the Tolbooth at Edinburgh, imprisoned on the charge of witchcraft. One of the women died in prison, the other, Jonet Anderson,[47] confessed that before her marriage, which had been only three months ago, she had given herself up body and soul to the devil, and that when she was married she had seen him standing by the pulpit. She was kept only so long as was necessary to prove her not pregnant, and then was executed, fully repentant. In August four women, "ane of them a maiden," were burnt on the Castle Hill in ghastly company; and soon after five more from Dunbar; and then again nine from Tranent, all confessing. These seemed to have stayed the appetite of the magistrates for a time, as we come across no more until 1661, when a painful collection of lies, slanders, and confessions again harrow up every feeling, and outrage every reasoning faculty. Jonet Watson was one of the first to make her confession. She said that in April last, bypast or thereby, she being at the burial of Lady Dalhousie, a rix dollar was given to Jean Bughane, to be divided among a certain number of poor folk, whereof she was one. But Jean ran away with the money, so poor Jonet got none of it: whereat being very grieved and angry, when she came to her own house she wished to be revenged on Jean, and at the wish appeared the devil in the likeness of a pretty boy in green clothes, and asked: "what ailed her, and what revenge would she have?" He then gave her his mark and left her under the form of a black dog, and for three days after she had a gnat constantly with her, and one morning when she was changing her linen it sat down upon her shoulder, where she had one of her marks. Also about the time of last Baal-fyre night (the beginning of May) she was at a meeting in Newton-dein, where was the devil dressed in green clothes, with a black hat on his head. And here she denied Christ, and took upon herself to be his servant, he laying his hand on her head, and receiving from her "all that was under his hand," when he gave her the name of "weill-dancing Jonet," and she and a few more danced like Tam o' Shanter's hags, and probably tired the devil out. Beatrice Leslie[48] was a witch too, and Agnes, wife of William Young, gave her some wholesome advice and honest reproof on the matter, whereby Beatrice was offended, and gave her a terrible look; and that very night William Young awakened out of his sleep all in terror and dismay, crying out that Beatrice, with a number of cats, was devouring him. Beatrice had a cat which two coal-heaving damsels killed by letting some coals fall on it, afterwards adding to their offence by throwing away her coal-basket. So Beatrice cursed them, and told them "they should see an ill sight before eight days were past:" as it fell out, for according to her threatening they were both killed in the coal-pit, though no one else was hurt; and when she was brought to see and touch the corpses, the one bled at the nose and the other at the ear, thus proving her guilt beyond the possibility of denial. Also she helped Alexander Wilson's wife in child-bed, by cantrips and unholy sleights; sticking a bare knife betwixt the bed and the straw, sprinkling salt about the bed, and saying, "Lord, let never ane worse wight waken thee, nor hes laid thee downe," with other villanies, unwholesome to honest folk; so Beatrice Leslie saw the sun for the last time between the cord and the flames. THE LANTHORNE AND THE BAHR-RECHT.[49] Christian Wilson, _alias_ the Lanthorne, which name she had gotten from the devil at the time of her baptism, was too famous in her generation. She lived near her brother Alexander, and there was notorious ill blood between them, perhaps because of her notorious evil proceedings. One evening Alexander was found dead in his own house, naked, with his face torn and cut, but without a spot of blood anywhere. Yet a "greate lumpe of fleisch" had been cut out of his cheek more cleanly than any ordinary razor could have cut either flesh or cheese. Christian bore herself strangely. She expressed no sorrow, perhaps because she felt none, and absolutely refused to see or touch the corpse according to the fashion of the honest and the orthodox of the time. This refusal did her much harm in men's minds, for was it not very evident that she was afraid of the bier-law, or bahr-recht, which, in 1661, when all this took place, was such a useful agent of the police, and helped so powerfully to the discovery of murder? The bailies and ministers heard the rumours affecting her, and commanded her to be brought into the house to touch the corpse, as the rest had done. "She came trembling all the way to the house, but she refused to come nigh the corpse, or to touch it, saying that 'she never touched a dead corpse in her life.'" The neighbours did not allow of her plea, and dragged her to the murdered man, that she might touch it softly. She went forward to do so. "But before shoe did it, the Sone being shyning in at the howse, shoe exprest herselfe thus, humbly desyring that, 'as the Lord made the Sone to shine and give light into that howse, that also he would give light to discovering of that murder!' And with these words shoe tuitching the wound of the dead man verie softlie, it being whyte and cleane, without any spot of blood or the lyke, yet immediately, while her fingers was upon it, the blood rushed owt of it, to the greate admiratioune of all the behoulders, who tooke it for discoverie of the murder according to her own prayers." Another charge, no less grave than that of murder, was, that William Richardson, having felled one of her hens with a stone, she frowned on him threateningly, and said he should never throw another stone. And he never did; for immediately he fell into ane "franicie" and madness, took to his bed, and died in a few days, all the time of his sickness crying out against Cristiane Wilson, who, he said, was tormenting him in the likeness of a grey cat. After his death his nephew teased the witch by calling her "The Lanthorne," which every one knew to be her devil-name; but Cristiane threatened him, and said that "if he did not hold his peace she would make him die by the same death as his uncle," which was proof sufficient of the truth of the grey cat and her guilty sorcery. This was the same Cristiane Wilson who, when she was being carried off to Nidrie, there to be confronted with another witch, was suddenly lifted off the pillion by a furious blast of wind, which she got the devil to raise in the hope of her rescue. But though she was blown into the stream, she swam lightly as a witch should and as only a witch could, and her jailers fished her out again, to secure her better for the future. As the sky was cloudless when the blast arose, and as no storm followed after, there was no possibility of doubting the Satanic origin of that mighty puff of wind. Besides, did not Jennot Cock, another confessing witch, say to John Stevin, when he told her that Cristiane was to be carried to Nidrie to-morrow, "Will not yow think it a sport, if the deivill raise a whirrell of wind, and tak her away from among yow by the gette (way) to-morrow?" This and that together made the thing certain; and the fall of the poor wretch was included in the dittay as one of the counts against her, proving her witchcraft. Witch-finding now increased rapidly in Scotland. No fewer than fourteen special commissions were issued for the sole purpose of trying witches for the sederunt of November the 7th, 1661; and on the 23rd of January, 1662, fourteen more were made out. It was the popular amusement of the day, and no one or two men then living could have turned the tide in favour of these poor persecuted creatures. Even Sir George Mackenzie, that "noble wit of Scotland," failed to make any reasonable impression on the besotted public, though his pleadings and writings got him into immense disfavour with the religious part of the community, and caused him to be ranked as an atheist and Sadducee, and classed with the Pilates and Judases of history. Though it had been the Bull of Pope Innocent VIII. in 1484, which had first stirred up the zeal of the godly against witchcraft, and written that terrible text, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," in still more terrible characters of blood and suffering, yet Calvinistic Scotland soon outstripped even the superstitious Papacy in her frantic piety, and poured out a sea of innocent blood which will stain her pages with an ineffaceable stain, for ever and for ever. Yet she was nearly a hundred years behind Rome in her zeal, for it was not till June, 1563, that she made the subject matter for legislation at all, and then the Estates[50] enacted "that 'nae person take upon hand to use any manner of witchcrafts, sorcery, or necromancy, nor give themselves furth to have ony sic craft or knowledge thereof therethrough abusing the people;' also, that 'nae person seek ony help, response, or consultation, at ony sic users or abusers of witchcrafts ... under pain of death.' This is the statute under which all the subsequent witch trials took place." But bad as it was under the Presbyterians and the Elders, it is true that under the Restoration the witch persecutions in Scotland were even more excessive than during the reign of the Covenanters, and that the return of Charles II. brought satisfaction and pleasure to the younger women only of his dominions, but nothing save torture to the old, the poor, and the despised. Ray says that about a hundred and twenty witches suffered in the year 1661, the year after the Restoration had brought joy and gladness to all loyal hearts; so that it mattered little whether Puritan or Cavalier, Presbyterian or Episcopalian, had the upper hand. Superstition was the greatest lord of all, and a slavish adherence to a few words fettered men down hopelessly to ignorance and wickedness. At this time (1661) John Kincaid and John Dick were the most notorious prickers; and they let no one escape whom they had the chance of hurting. One John Hay, an old man of sixty, and of untarnished reputation, fell into Dick's hands, accused of sorcery by "a distracted woman," whose words were not worth the wind that wafted them. But Dick shaved him, and pricked him, and tortured him in all allowable ways, then sent him off to Edinburgh, two hundred miles away, to be locked up in the Tolbooth, pending further proceedings. The case against him was too slight for even those times to entertain, and he was liberated on his own petition, and a few testimonials: but John Dick was not reproved, nor was his zeal thought extreme or passionate. MISCELLANEOUS. Margaret Bryson[51] quarrelled with her husband about the selling of a cow; she went to the house-door, "and there did imprecate that God or the devil might take her from her husband;" which naturally ended in the devil's appearing and forcing her into the covenant with him that had its final expression at the stake. Margaret Hutchison was a witch, too. She laid on Henry Balfour the pains of a child-bed woman, and caused such a universal swelling of his body that he died thereof; and she threatened John Boost for calling her a witch, and threw a piece of raw flesh against his house, which the very dogs and cats would not eat; and she sent a plague of cats to John Bell's house, and tormented him and his wife by appearing at their hearth-side at night, combing her hair: so Margaret Hutchison was no better than she should be, and the world was well rid of her. Isabel Ramsey for her part was convicted of taking sixpence from the devil, and entering into a long chat with him upon sundry local matters; and, indeed, she herself confessed that he gave her a dollar, which turned into a sklaitt stane: for nothing that the devil did for these witches ever turned to good, so that one is more surprised at their stupidity than offended by their guilt. Jennet Cock[52] had an ill name, past all forbearance or overlooking. She was never easy unless she was after some evil, and the world must positively be quit of her. She bewitched William Scott's bonny bay horse, worth pounds and pounds of money, and made him mad; and she told a brute who beat her that he should live to be hanged, which not very unlikely prediction was fulfilled; and she kept company with the devil on terms that no honest woman should endure; and she and Jean Dickson, another witch, cured a neighbour's child by cutting off a dog's head, with which they played some devilish cantrip that healed the bairn; and she it was who made that speech concerning Christiane Wilson and the gaff of wind; so Jennet Cock was adjudged dangerous to be at large, and was put into prison, there to await her trial. And she was tried, but, strange to say, acquitted of the charges brought against her; she was not let loose though, but kept still in durance till a fresh case could be completed against her. Jennet Cock was rather notorious for her evil eye and power of overlooking, and in her dittay is thus charged:--"There being an outcast betwixt yow and Jeane Forrest, because schoe had called yow a witch, yow came to the said Jeane, her landlord's house, where she was with some nyghboures, desyreing to make aggriement betwixt yow. Ye malitiouslie and bitterlie girneing and gnashing your teeth, and beating your hands upon your knies, said, 'O them that called me a witch! O them that called me a witch!' And at that tyme, the said Jeane Forrest, her chylde being in good health, on the morne the chylde, by your sorceries and witchcraft dyed; and the mother, at the chylde's departour, called out with a loud voyce upone her nighbours, saying, 'Alace! that ever I had adoe with that witch Janet Cock, for shoe has been at my bed syd all this night standing, and I could not get red of her: and behold the fruit of it--my chylde is dead!'" This deposition was made September 10, 1661, and surely Jennet Cock never escaped the consequences of such a cantrip as this! Marion Grinlaw[53] and Jean Howison, "the survivors of ten women and a man who had been imprisoned at Musselburgh," petitioned the Council for their release. "Some of the rest died of cold and hunger. They themselves had lain in durance _forty weeks_, and were now in a state of extreme misery, _although nothing could be brought against them_. Margaret Carvie and Barbara Horniman, of Falkland, had in like manner been imprisoned at the instance of the magistrates and parish minister, had lain six weeks in jail, subjected to a great deal of torture by one who takes upon him the trial of witches by pricking; and so great was their sufferings that life was become a burden to them, notwithstanding that they declared their innocence, and nothing to the contrary had been shown. The Council ordered all these women to be liberated:" which was a marvellous outstep of humanity, and one for which its previous acts could hardly have prepared us. The next year it seems to have had a small side-blow of rationality. It had become sensible of the vile inhumanity of John Kincaid, and threw the wretch into prison, then issued a proclamation repudiating the seizure of suspected persons, which had been made illegally, unauthorizedly, and out of only envy and covetousness. Nevertheless, it took care to issue twelve fresh commissions for trying witches, immediately after; being chiefly anxious to keep all the business in its own hands, and shut the door against any outside free lances. John Kincaid lay for nine weeks in jail, then was liberated only on condition that he would prick no more without warrant. He sent up a whining petition, setting forth that he was an old man, and if confined longer might be brought to mortal sickness; so to avert this terrible catastrophe, the old sinner had his liberty given to him again: he ought to have had instead the doom of the murderer for blood-money! CLOWTS AND THE SERPENT.[54] In the parish of Innerkip, on March 4, 1662, Marie Lamont, a "young Woman of the adge of Eighteen Yeares," offered herself for voluntary confession. She said that five years ago Kattrein Scot taught her to take kyes' milk. She told her to go out in misty mornings with a hair rope (harrie tedder), which she was to draw over the mouth of a mug, saying, "In God's name, God send us milk, God sent it, and mickle of it." By which means she and Kattrein got much of their neighbours' milk which they made into butter and cheese. Also she said, that two years and a half since, the devil came to them at Kattrein Scot's house, where many of them were present, and gave them all wine to drink and wheat bread to eat, and they danced and were very merry, the devil shaking hands with them, and she delivering herself over to him in baptism. And at her baptism she was given the name of "Clowts," and bid to call the devil "Serpent." Further, "Shee confessed that at that sam tym the devil nipit her upon the right syd, qlk was very painful for a tym, but yairefter he straikit it with his hand, and healed it; this she confesses to be his mark." At a certain meeting which she spoke of, when she and the rest went to raise storms to hinder the Killing fishery, the devil came to them in the likeness of a brown dog, but she and Kattrein were as cats, and in this form they ran into Allan Orr's house and took a bite of a herring lying in a barrel. They then put it back again, and Allan Orr's wife, afterwards finishing the herring, took heavy disease, and died. The reason of this malicious act was, that Allan Orr had put Margaret Holm (one of the cats) out of her house, and this was the manner in which she chose to be revenged--"threitening in wrath, that he and his wife sould not be long together." Many other things did she confess: one of which was how the devil once "convoyed her home in the dawing; and when shee was com near the house wherein she was a servant, her master saw a waff of him as he went away from her." Another time she and some other witches met at the back gate of Ardgowand, where his Cloutieship appeared in the likeness of a black man with cloven feet, directing them to take white sand and cast it about the gates of Ardgowand, and about the minister's house; and while they were about the business he turned them into the likeness of cats, by shaking his hands above them. And at another time they went to cast the longston into the sea, to cause storms and shipwrecks, and the devil kissed them as they went away, apparently better pleased than ordinarily with his Clowts and Kats. All these things did poor Marie Lamont, aged eighteen, confess to the minister and Laird of Innerkip; and they, not knowing the virtue of purgatives and port wine, nor understanding the value of rest and silence, took the poor young soul at her word, and found her guilty of all the crimes and follies with which a diseased body, and a mind overset and charged, had prompted her to accuse herself. And now we come to THE WITCHES OF AULDEARNE:[55] and Isobell Gowdie's marvellous confessions: still in A.D. 1662. Isobell was neither pricked nor tortured before she entered on her singular history of circumstantial lies. She was probably a mere lunatic, whose ravings ran in the popular groove, and who was not so much deceiving, as self-deceived by insanity. The assize which tried her was composed of highly respectable people, and she seems to have been only encouraged to rave, not forced to lie. She began by stating that one day, fifteen years ago, as she was going between "the towns" or farmsteads of Drumdewin and the Heads, she met the devil, who spoke to her and invited her to meet him that night at the parish church of Auldearne. She promised that she would, and accordingly she went, and he baptized her by the name of "Janet," and accepted her service. Margaret Brodie held her while she denied her Christian baptism; and then the devil marked her on the shoulder, sucking out the blood which he "spouted" into his hand, then sprinkled it on her head, saying, "I baptize thee, Janet, in my own name!" But first he had put one hand on the crown of her head, and the other on the soles of her feet, while she made over to him all that lay betwixt, giving herself body and soul into his keeping. He was in the Reader's desk while all this took place, appearing as a "mickle, black, hairy man" reading out of a black book; so Isobell was henceforth Janet in the witch world, and was one of the most devoted of her covin; for they were divided into covins or bands, she said, and placed under the leadership of proper officers. John Young was the officer of her covin, and the number composing it was thirteen. She and others of her band took Breadley's corn from off his land. They took an unchristened child which they had raised out of its grave, parings of their nails, ears of all sorts of grain, and cole-wort leaves, all chopped very fine and small, and mixed up well together; and this charm they buried on his land, whereby they got all the strength of his corn and goods to themselves, and parted them among the covin. Another time they yoked a plough of paddocks (toads). The devil held it, and John Young drove it: it was drawn by toads instead of oxen, the traces were of quickens (dog-grass), the coulter was a riglen's horn (ram's horn), so was the sock; and they went two several times about the field, all the covin following and praying to the devil to give them the fruit of that land, and that only thistles and briars might grow on it for the master's use. So Breadley had trouble enough to work his land, and when it was worked he got no good out of it, but only weeds and thorns, while the covin made their bread of his labour. When asked how she and her sister witches managed to leave their husbands o' nights, she said that, when it was their Sabbath nights, they used to put besoms or three-legged stools in bed beside their husbands; so that if these deluded men should wake before their return, they might believe they had their wives safe as usual. The besoms and three-legged stools took the right form of the women, and prevented a too early discovery. To go to these Sabbaths they put a straw between their feet, crying "Horse and Hattock in the Devil's name!" and then they would fly away, just as straws in the wind. Any kind of straw would do, and they who saw them floating about in the whirlwind, and did not sanctify themselves, could be shot dead at the witches' pleasure, and their bodies remained with them as horses, and small as straws. These night meetings always ended with a supper; the Maiden of the Covin being placed next to the devil, as he was partial to young, plump, blooming witches, and did not care much for the "rigwoodie hags," save to beat and belabour them. And after they had gotten their meat they would say as a grace-- "We eat this meat in the devil's name, With sorrow and _sich_ (sighs) and mickle shame; We shall destroy both house and hald; Both sheep and nolt intil the fauld, Little good shall come to the fore, Of all the rest of the little store." And when supper was done, each witch would look steadily upon their "grisly" president and say, bowing low, "We thank thee, our Lord, for this!" But it was not much to thank him for in general; for the old adage seems to have been pretty nearly kept to, and the cooks, at least, not to speak of the meat, to be of the very lowest description. The poor witches never got more from the devil than what they might have had at home; which was one more added to the many proofs that the mind cannot travel beyond its own sphere of knowledge, and that even hallucinations are bounded by experience, and clairvoyance by the past actual vision. Then Isobell went to the Downie Hills, to see the gude wichtis who had wrought Bessie Dunlop and Alesoun Peirsoun such sad mishap. The hill side opened and she went in. Here she got meat more than she could eat, which was a rare thing for her to do in those days, and seemed to her one of the most noticeable things of the visit. The Queen of Faerie was bravely clothed in white linen, and white and brown clothes, but she was nothing like the glorious creature who bewitched Thomas of Ercildoun with her winsom looks and golden hair; and the king was a braw man, well favoured and broad faced; just an ordinary man and woman of the better classes, buxom, brave, and comely, as Isobell Gowdie and her like would naturally take to be the ultimate perfection of humanity. But it was not all sunshine and delight even in the hill of Faerie, for there were "elf bullis rowting and skoylling" up and down, which frightened poor Isobell, as well as her auditory: for here she was interrupted and bidden on another track. She then went on to say that when they took away any cow's milk they did so by twining and platting a rope the wrong way and in the devil's name, drawing the tether in between the cow's hinder feet, and out between her fore feet. The only way to get back the milk was to cut the rope. When they took away the strength of any one's ale in favour of themselves or others, they used to take a little quantity out of each barrel, in the devil's name (they never forgot this formula), and then put it into the ale they wished to strengthen; and no one had power to keep their ale from them, save those who had well sanctified the brewing. Also she and others made a clay picture of a little child, which was to represent all the male children of the Laird of Parkis. John Taylor brought home the clay in his "plaid newk" (corner), his wife brake it very small like meal, and sifted it, and poured water in among it in the devil's name, and worked it about like rye porridge ("vrought it werie sore, lyk rye-bowt") and made it into a picture of the Laird of Parkis' son. "It haid all the pairtis and merkis of a child, such as heid, eyes, nose, handis, foot, mowth, and little lippes. It wanted no mark of a child; and the handis of it folded down by its sydes." This precious image, which was like a lump of dough or a skinned sucking pig, was put to the fire till it shrivelled and became red as a coal; they put it to the fire every other day, and by the wicked power enclosed in this charm all the male children of the Laird of Parkis would suffer, unless it were broken up. She and the rest went in and out their neighbours' houses, sometimes as jackdaws, sometimes as hares, cats, &c., and ate and drank of the best; and they took away the virtue of all things left "unsained;" and each had their own powers. "Bot," said Isobell, sorrowfully, "now I haw no power at all." In another confession she told all about her Covin. There were thirteen in each, and every person had a nickname, and a spirit to wait on her. She could not remember the names of all, but she gave what she could. Swein clothed in grass green waited on Margaret Wilson, called Pickle-nearest-the-wind: Rorie in yellow waited on Bessie Wilson, or Throw-the-corn-yard: the Roaring Lion in seagreen waited on Isobell Nichol, or Bessie Rule: Mak Hector, a young-like devil, clothed in grass green, was appropriated by Jean Martin, daughter to Margaret Wilson (Pickle-nearest-the-wind), the Maiden of the Covin and called Over-the-Dyke-with-it; this name given to her because the devil always takes the maiden in his hand next him, and when he would leap they both cry out, "Over the dyke with it!" Robert the Rule in sad dun, a commander of the spirits, waited on Margaret Brodie, Thief-of-hell-wait-upon-herself: he waited also on Bessie Wilson, otherwise Throw-the-corn-yard: Isobell's own spirit was the Red Riever, and he was ever clothed in black: the eighth spirit was Robert the Jakes, aged, and clothed in dun, "ane glaiked gowked spirit," and he waited on Bessie Hay, otherwise Able-and-Stout: the ninth was Laing, serving Elspet Nishie, re-named Bessie Bauld; the tenth was Thomas, a faerie:--but there Isobell's questioners stopped her, afraid to hear aught of the "guide wychtis," who might be then among them, injuring those who offended them to death. So no more information was given of the spirits of the Covin. She then told them that to raise a wind they took a rag of cloth which they wetted, then knocked on a stone with a beetle (a flat piece of wood) saying thrice-- "I knok this ragg wpon this stane, To raise the wind in the Divelle's name; It sall not lye, vntil I please againe!" When the wind was to be laid, they dried the rag, and said thrice-- "We lay the wind in the divellis name, It sall not rise quhill we lyk to raise it again!" And if the wind would not cease the instant after they said this, they called to their spirit: "Thieffe! thieffe! conjure the wind and caws it to lye!" As for elf-arrow heads, the devil shapes them with his own hand, and then delivers them to elf boys who sharpen and trim them with a thing like a packing-needle: and when Isobell was in elf-land she saw the boys sharpening and trimming them. Those who trimmed them, she said, are little ones, hollow and hump-backed, and speak gruffly like. When the devil gave the arrows to the witches he used to say-- "Shoot these in my name, And they sall not goe heall hame." And when the witches shoot them, which they do by "spanging" them from their thumb nails, they say-- "I shoot yon man in the devillis name, He sall nott win heall hame! And this salbe alswa trw, Thair sall not be an bitt of him on liew."[56] Isobell had great talent for rhymes. She told the court how, when the witches wanted to transform themselves into the shape of hare or cat, they said thrice over--always thrice-- "I sall goe intill ane haire, With sorrow, and sych, and mickle caire; And I sall goe in the divellis name, Ay whill I com hom againe." Once Isobell said this rhyme, when Patrik Papley's servants were going to labour. They had their dogs with them, and the dogs hunted her--she in the form of a hare. Very hard pressed, and weary, she had just time to run to her own house, get behind the chest, and repeat-- "Hair, hair, God send thé caire, I am in a hairis likeness now, But I sall be a woman ewin now; Hair, hair, God send thé caire!" Else the dogs would have worried her, and posterity have lost her confessions. Many other doggrels did Isobell teach her judges; but they were all of the same character as those already given: scanty rhymes in the devil's name, when they were not actual paraphrases of the mass book. Some were for healing and some for striking; some in the name of God and all the saints, others in the devil's name, boldly and nakedly used; but both equally damnable in the eyes of the judges, and equally worthy of death. The elf-arrows spoken of before were of great use. The devil gave them to his covin and they shot men and women dead, right and left. Sometimes they missed, as when Isobell shot at the Laird of Park as he was crossing the burn, and missed, for which Bessie Hay gave her a great cuff: also Margaret Brodie, when she shot at Mr. Harie Forbes, the minister at Auldearne, he being by the standing stanes; whereupon she asked if she should shoot again, but the devil answered, "Not! for we wold nocht get his lyf at that tym." Finding the elf-arrows useless against Mr. Harie Forbes, they tried charms and incantations once when he was sick. They made a bag, into which they put the flesh, entrails, and gall of a toad, a hare's liver, barley grains, nail pairings, and bits of rag, steeping all in water, while Satan stood over them, saying--and they repeating after him-- "He is lying in his bed, and he is seik and sair, Let him lye in till that bedd monthes two and dayes thrie mair! He sall lye in till his bed, he salbe seik and sair, He sall lye in till his bedd, monthes two and dayes thrie mair!" When they said these words they were all on their knees with their hair about their shoulders and eyes, holding up their hands to the devil, beseeching him to destroy Mr. Harry; and then it was decided to go into his chamber and swing the bag over him. Bessie Hay--Able-and-Stout--undertook this office, and she went to his room, being intimate with him, the bag in her hands and her mind set on slaying him by its means; but there were some worthy persons with him at the time, so Bessie did no harm, only swung a few drops on him which did not kill him. They had a hard taskmaster in the devil--Black Johnnie, as they used to call him among themselves. But he used to overhear them, and would suddenly appear in the midst of them, saying, "I ken weill anewgh what ye wer saying of me," and then would beat and buffet them sore. He was always beating them, specially if they were absent from any of the meetings, or if they forgot anything he had told them to do. Alexander Elder was being continually thrashed. He was very soft and could never defend himself in the least, but would cry and scream when the devil scourged him. The women had more pluck. Margaret Wilson--Pickle-nearest-the-wind--would defend herself finely, throwing up her hands to keep the strokes from her; and Bessie Wilson--Throw-the-corn-yard--"would speak crusty with her tongue and would be belling against him soundly." He used to beat them all up and down with scourges and sharp cords, they like naked ghosts crying, "Pity! pity! mercy! mercy, our Lord!" But he would have neither pity nor mercy, but would grin at them like a dog, and as if he would swallow them up. He would give them most beautiful money, at least to look at; but in four-and-twenty hours it would be all gone, or changed to mere dirt and rubbish. The devil wore sometimes boots and sometimes shoes, but ever his feet were cloven, and ever his colour black. This, with some small variations, was the sum of what Isobell Gowdie confessed in her four depositions taken between the 13th of April and 27th of May in the year of grace 1662. Janet Braidhead, spous to John Taylor, followed next. Her first confession, made on the 14th of April, set forth how that she had known nothing of witchcraft until her husband and his mother, Elspeth Nishie, had taught her; her first lesson from them being the making of some "drugs" which were to charm away the fruit and corn, and kill the cattle, of one John Hay in the Mure. After that, she was taken to the kirk at Auldearne, where her husband presented her for the devil's baptism and marking, which were done in the usual manner. She also gave evidence of the clay picture which was to destroy all the male children of the Laird of Park; and she gave a long list of the frequenters of the Sabbaths, including some of the most respectable inhabitants of the place; and in many other things she confirmed Isobell Gowdie's depositions, specially in all regarding the devil and the unequivocal nature of their connection with him, which was put into plain and unmistakable language enough. We are not told the ultimate fate of Isobell Gowdie and Janet Braidhead, but they had confessed enough to burn half Scotland, and it is not likely that they escaped the doom assigned to their order. THE SECRET SINS OF MAJOR WEIR.[57] On the 4th of April, 1670, one Major Thomas Weir, an old man of seventy, expiated his crimes on the Gallowlie of Edinburgh. A bad man, surely; a canting, loose-lived hypocrite, who made his puritanism the cloak for his secret crimes, serving sin with his body in daily and most detestable service, while his lips spoke only of zeal to God and the soul's devoutest exercise. Still, it was a terrible fate for nothing more heinous than an unclean life; a purification by fire in truth, but not for the sanctification of souls. Perhaps he would have got off altogether, had he not been charged with witchcraft. Incest and the foulest vices were bad enough, but witchcraft was worse. Yet no intelligible charge of sorcery was brought against this man save the fact that he got the love of all manner of women, poor and old though he was; and the testimony of a frightened woman who gave a rambling account of shapes, and lights, and women, all gathered down in Stinking-close, near to where the major lived; all of which were, of course, phantoms, spectres, or devils, conjured up by his magical and devilish arts. This, and the frantic saying of his poor old sister, when she heard of his death, that if they had burnt his staff they had destroyed his power, formed about the sum of the witchcraft evidence against him. He was arrested on his own confession. Unable to bear the weight of his secret vices, he gave himself up to the authorities, who at first were disposed to think him mad, but who afterwards, reporting him sane and collected enough, set him on his trial. After he had once spoken he would say no more, would make no defence and no further confession: he would not pray, he would not appeal to God. Like a beast he had lived, like a beast he would die, and "since he was going to the devil," he said, "he did not wish to anger him." He would have no paltering with an outraged God by the way; so the fire and the faggot came as the culmination of a life which in its mildest phase was infamous, but which belonged to no lawful tribunal of man to punish. If he died sullenly and in mute and dumb despair, his sister's anguish found wild and desperate expression. She told her judges all about her horrible life with him, and how he had been long given up to sorcery and magic, as well as to things not now to be mentioned; and how his power lay in that staff of his which had been burnt along with him. That thornwood staff, with its crooked head and carved figures like satyrs running through, seems to have heavily burdened the poor creature's mind, for she told her judges that when she wished to plague her brother she would hide it, and give it back to him only when he threatened to reveal her nameless infamy if she did not restore it. On the morning of her execution she said that she would expiate the most shameful life that had ever been lived by dying the most shameful death; but no one knew exactly what she meant. When she came to the place of execution--she was mercifully hung--she began to talk wildly of the Broken Covenant, and exhort the people back to their old faith, and then she attempted to throw off all her clothes that she might die "naked and ashamed." This was the lowest depth of degradation of which her crazed old brain could conceive, and was what she meant in the morning when alluding to the manner of her death. The executioner had to struggle mightily with her before he was able to overmaster her, she smiting him on the cheek the while; but at last he flung her "open-faced" on the ground, and threw some linen cloths over her; but "her hands not being tyed when she was throwen over, she laboured to recover hirselfe, and put in her head betwixt two of the steps of the leather, and keiped that powster for a tyme, till she was put from itt." It is curious to mark the little bit of sanity in all this mournful lunacy, when the familiar things of life were spoken of. She had always been a great spinner, and the fame now went abroad that the devil had helped her in this. Asked if it was not so, she at the first denied disdainfully; use only and industry, she said, had made her so deft at her work, and the devil had done nothing for her; but afterwards she maundered off into some nonsense about her yarn, and how her distaff was often found full when she had left it empty; and how the weaver could never weave the thread spun from this yarn, which, of course, was "devil's dust" of the true kind. She was mad enough, the wretched being, and could not fail to trip if stones were laid in her path. But her first instincts respecting her every-day occupation were right, and are singularly illustrative of some of the phenomena of madness, and of how intimately with one's life is interwoven common sense, even in the fibres of a diseased brain. She said further that she was persuaded "her mother was a witch, for the secretest thing that either I myself or any of the family could do, when once a mark appeared upon her brow, she could tell it them, though done at a great distance! Being demanded what sort of a mark it was, she answered, 'I have some such like mark myself when I please, on my forehead.' Whereupon she offered to uncover her head for visible satisfaction; the minister refusing to behold it, and forbidding any discovery, was earnestly requested by some spectators to allow the freedom: he yielded. She put back her head-dress, and, seeming to frown, there was an exact horse-shoe, shaped for nails, in her wrinkles--terrible enough, I assure you, to the stoutest beholder." Her further confessions were curious, involving, as they did, a visit from a tall woman who had one child at her back and one or two at her feet; and who came to her, wanting her to speak to the Queen of Fairy, and to strike and do battle with the said queen on her behalf. The next day came "ane little woman," with a piece of a tree, or the root of some herb, and she told her that so long as she kept the same she should do well, and should attain all she might desire. So she spun at her yarn, and found more yarn on the "pirn" than she thought to find; which frightened her. This took place when she "keeped a school at Dalkeith, and teached childering." She also rambled on about a fiery chariot in which she and her brother had paid visits, and of his mysterious visitors and his thornwood staff; and when nothing more was to be got out of her she was hung, and the world was all the cleaner for the loss of so much folly and wickedness from out the general mass. THE DUMB GIRL OF POLLOK.[58] On the 14th of October, Sir George Maxwell, of Pollok, and his household were much agitated and disturbed. He had been taken suddenly and dangerously ill, with pains which read like the pains of pleurisy; and though he got partially well, had still some awkward symptoms remaining. A young deaf and dumb girl, of unknown origin, signified that "there is a woman whose son has broke his fruit yeard that did prick him in the side." This was found to mean that Jennet Mathie, relict of John Stewart, under-miller in Schaw Mill, had formed a wax picture with pins in its side, which "Dumby" said was to be found in her house in a hole behind the fire, and which she further offered to bring to them at Pollok, provided certain two of the men servants might accompany her to protect her. The young daughters of Sir George did not believe the story, but the two servants, Laurence Pollok and Andrew Martine, professed themselves converts, and insisted on seeing the thing to an end. So they went to Jennet's house, and into the kitchen, all standing on the floor near the fire; "when little Dumby comes quickly by, slips her hand into a hole behind the fire, and puts into Andrew Martine's hand, beneath his cloak, a wax picture with two pins in it," that in the right side very long, and that in the left shorter: which corresponded with the severity of the laird's pains. The picture was brought to Sir George; so was Jennet Mathie, who was apprehended on the spot and whom Sir George then sent to prison. When questioned, she denied all knowledge of the picture or the pins, and said it was the work of the dumb girl; but on its being shown that her son Hugh had once robbed Sir George's orchard--which was what Dumby meant by "broke his fruit yeard"--and that Sir George, when told that he was no longer in Pollokland, but had gone to Darnlie, had said, "I hope my fingers may be long enough to reach him in Darnlie"--these circumstances were held quite sufficient evidence that the Stewart family would do the laird all the mischief they could. The prosecution wanted no stronger proof, and the affair went on. Jennet was obstinate, and would confess nothing; upon which they searched her and found the devil's mark. After this, Sir George got better for a short space, but soon the pains returned, and then the dumb girl said that John Stewart, Jennet's eldest son, had made another clay image, four days since, and that it was now in his house beneath the bolster among the bed straw. So she and the servants went there again, and sure enough they found it; but as it was only lately made, it was soft and broke in their hands. John said simply he did not know who had put it there; but he and his young sister Annabel were apprehended: and the next day Annabel confessed. She said, that on the 4th of January last past, while the clay picture was being formed, a black gentleman had come into her mother's house, accompanied by Bessie Weir, Marjorie Craig, Margaret Jackson, and her own brother John. When confronted with John she wavered, but John was no nearer release for that. He was searched, and many marks were found on him; and when found the spell of silence was broken, and he confessed his paction with the devil as openly as his sister, giving up as their accomplices the same women as those she had named. Of these, Margaret Jackson, aged fourscore or so, was the only one to confess; but as she had many witch marks she could not hope for mercy, so might as well make a clean breast of it at once. On the 17th of January a portion of clay was found under Jennet Mathie's bolster, in her prison at Paisley. This time it was a woman's portrait, for Sir George had recovered by now, and the witches were against the whole family equally. On the 27th Annabel made a fuller deposition. She said that last harvest the devil, as a black man, had come to her mother's house, and required her, the deponent, to give herself to him; promising that she should want for nothing good if she did. She, being enticed by her mother and Bessie Weir, did as was desired--putting one hand on the crown of her head, and another on the soles of her feet, and giving over to him all that lay between; whereupon her mother promised her a new coat, and the devil made her officer at their several meetings. He gave her, too, such a nip on the arm that she was sore for half an hour after, and gave her a new name--Annippy, or an Ape according to Law. Her mother's devil-name was Lands-lady; Bessie Weir was called Sopha; Marjorie Craig was Rigeru; Margaret Jackson Locas; John Stewart, Jonas; and they were all present at the making of the clay image which was to doom Sir George to death. They made it of clay, then bound it on a spit and turned it before the fire, "Sopha" crying "Sir George Maxwell! Sir George Maxwell!" which was repeated by them all. Another time, she said, there was a meeting, when the devil was dressed in "black cloathes and a blew band, and white hand cuffs, with hoggers on his feet, and that his feet were cloven." The black man stuck the pins into the picture, and his name was Ejoall, or J. Jewell. For the devil delighted in giving himself various names, as when he caused himself to be called Peter Drysdale, by Catherine Sands and Laurie Moir, and Peter Saleway by others. John now followed suit. He confessed to his own baptism; to the hoggers on the black man's legs, who had no shoes, and spoke in a voice hollow and ghousty; to the making the clay image; and to his new name of Jonas. On the 15th of February, 1677, John Stewart, Annabel Stewart, and Margaret Jackson all adhered to these depositions, but Jennet and Bessie and Margerie denied them. Jennet's feet were fixed in stocks, so that she might not do violence to her own life: and one day her gaoler declared that he had found her bolster, which the night before was laid at least six yards from the stocks, now placed beneath her; the stocks being so heavy that two of the strongest men in the country could hardly have carried them six yards. He asked her "how she had win to the bolster," and she answered that she had crept along the floor of the room, dragging the stocks with her. Before the court she said that she had got one foot out of the hole, and had drawn the stocks with her, "a thing altogether impossible." Then John and Annabel exhorted their mother to confess, reminding her of all the meetings which she had had with the devil in her own house, and that "a summer's day would not be sufficient to relate what passages had been between the devil and her." But Jennet Mathie was a stern, brave, high-hearted Scotch woman, and would not seal her sorrow with a lie. "Nothing could prevail with her obdured and hardened heart," so she and all, save young Annabel, were burnt; and when she was bound to the stake, the spectators saw after a while a black, pitchy ball foam out of her mouth, which, after the fire was kindled, grew to the size of a walnut, and flew out into sparks like squibs. This was the devil leaving her. As for Bessie Weir, or Sopha, the devil left her when she was executed, in the form of a raven; for so he owned and dishonoured his chosen ones. "The dumbe girl, Jennet Douglas, now speaks well, and knows Latine, which she never learned, and discovers things past!" says Sinclair. But she still followed her old trade. She had mesmeric visions, and was evidently a "sensitive;" and some of the people believed in her, as inspired and divine, and some came, perhaps mockingly, to test her. But they generally got the worst off, and were glad to leave her alone again. One woman came and asked her "'how she came to the knowledge of so many things,' but the young wench shifted her, by asking the woman's name. She told her name. Says the other, 'Are there any other in Glasgow of that name?' 'No!' sayes the woman. 'Then,' said the girle, 'you are a witch!' Says the other, 'Then are you a devil!' The girl answers 'The devil doth not reveal witches; but I know you to be one, and I know your practices too.' On which the poor woman ran away in great confusion;" as, indeed, she might--such an accusation as this being quite sufficient to sign her death-warrant. To another woman who came to see and question her, she said the same thing; taking her arm, and showing the landlord a secret mark which she told him the woman had got from the devil. "The poor woman much ashamed ran home, and a little while after she came out and told her neighbours that what Jennet Douglas had said of her was true, and earnestly entreated that they might show so much to the magistrates, that she might be apprehended, otherwise the devil says she will make me kill myself." The neighbours were wise enough to think her mad, as she was, and took her home; but the next day she was found drowned in the Clyde; fear and despair had killed her before the stake-wood had had time to root and ripen. The dumb girl herself was afterwards carried before the great council at Edinburgh, imprisoned, scourged through the town, and then banished to "some forraigne Plantation," whence she reappears no more to vex her generation. God forgive her! She has passed long years ago to her account, and may her guilty soul be saved, and all its burning blood-stains cleansed and assoilzed! LIZZIE MUDIE AND HER VICTIMS.[59] The year after Sir George Maxwell's affair there was another case at Haddington which gave full employment to the authorities. Margaret Kirkwood, a woman of some means, hanged herself one Sunday morning during church time. Her servant, Lizzie Mudie, who was at kirk like a good Christian, suddenly called out, to the great disturbance of the congregation. She began repeating all the numbers--one, two, three, four, &c.--till she came to fifty-nine; then she stopped and cried, "The turn is done!" When it was afterwards found that Margaret Kirkwood had hung herself just about that moment, and that her age was fifty-nine, Lizzie Mudie was taken up and searched. She was found a witch by her marks, and soon after confessed, delating five women and one man as her accomplices. But the five women and the one man were obstinate, and would not say that they were guilty, though they were pricked and searched and marks found on them. Lord Fountainhall was present at the searching of the man, and he gives an account of it: "I did see the man's body searched and pricked in two sundry places, one at the ribs and the other at his shoulder. He seemed to find no pain, but no blood followed. The marks were blewish, very small, and had no protuberancy above the skin. The pricker said there were three sorts of witches' marks: the horn mark, it was very hard; the breiff mark, it was very little; and the feeling mark, in which they had sense and pain." "I remained very dissatisfied with this way of trial," says my Lord farther on, "as most fallacious; and the fellow could give me no account of the principles of his art, but seemed to be a drunken, foolish rogue." One of Lizzie Mudie's five victims was an old woman of eighty, named Marion Phinn, who had always borne a good character, "never being stained with the least ignominy, far less with the abominable crime of witchcraft." But though she petitioned the council to free her on her own caution, she was kept hand-fast and foot-bound in gaol, being far too dangerous in the helplessness and feebleness of her eighty years to be let out with the chance of bewitching mankind to death. This she could do, and work all other miracles; but she could not help herself to sunlight and liberty. BRAVE OLD KATHERINE LIDDELL.[60] In 1678 two old women of Prestonpans were burnt. They made a voluntary confession, and accused a few more of their craft. These in their turn accusing others, in a very short time seventeen unhappy creatures were collected together, all charged with the sin of witchcraft, intercommuning with the devil, voluntary transformation into ravens, cats, crows, &c., with all the other stock pieces of the hallucination. The judges seemed inclined to favour them, and Sir John Clerk of Pennycuik, when desired to sit on the commission appointed to try the seven given up by the parish of Loanhead, declined, "alleging drily that he did not feel himself warlock (that is, conjuror) enough to be judge upon such an inquisition." These poor creatures had deep sleeps, during which no pinching would awake them; but though the judges saw them when in these sleeps, and heard their confessions as to where they had been and what they had been doing during the time, they were regarded as diabolical trances, and dealt with accordingly. Nine of the East Lothian women were burnt, and the "seven of Loanhead were reserved for future procedure." Among the accused was one Katherine Liddell, a strong-minded, stout-hearted, old widow, who feared no man, spoke her mind freely, and had a body with nerves like cart ropes and muscles of iron. The bailie of Prestonpans, John Rutherford, had caused her to be seized in the late panic, and, though there was nothing against her, he had her pricked in various parts of her body "to the great effusion of her blood, and whereby her skin is raised and her body highly swelled, and she is in danger of life." A drummer, two salt-makers, and others, assisted him in this torture; for John Kincaid had found zealous followers: and any man with a peculiar temperament, and a heart hardened by superstition against suffering, might take on himself the office of pricker to his own soul's satisfaction, and the torture and murder of his fellow-creatures. Katherine Liddell, besides being actively tortured, was kept without sleep for six days and nights, but the stout old woman would confess nothing. On the contrary, she presented a petition to the Council, charging John Rutherford and the rest with "defamation, false imprisonment, and open and manifest oppression," and demanded vengeance and restitution in loud and vigorous terms. The Council, unaccustomed to this sort of thing, and used only to victims as tame as they were considered powerful, soon released her, dropping her like hot iron, and condemning Rutherford and his associates as too hasty and ill-advised: then, somewhat further redeemed themselves by an unusual act of justice and common sense, in sentencing David Cowan, "pricker"--the one who had been the most active of her tormentors--to be confined during pleasure in the Tolbooth. Katherine Liddell did not do much good to her afflicted sisterhood, though she had helped herself: for that same year, in August,[61] "the devil had a great meeting of witches in Loudian, where, among others, was a warlock who formerly had been admitted to the ministrie in the Presbyterian tymes, and when the bishops came in conformed with them." This warlock minister was Mr. Gideon Penman, minister of Crighton, and a man of notoriously loose life; but whether he carried his defiance of good so far as to dance with the hags at the Sabbath, and "beat up those that were slow," and preach damnable doctrines and blasphemous travesties of the Christian faith in the devil's services, or whether he was only an immoral man--better out of the ministry than in it--remains for each reader's private judgment to determine. Ten of the accused stoutly affirmed that Mr. Gideon Penman was their devil's parson; but as he as stoutly denied it, he was liberated on his own security, while nine out of the ten were condemned to be strangled and burnt, which was done accordingly. They gave some curious details, as, that, when they renounced their baptism and gave themselves over to Satan by laying one hand on their head and the other on their feet he kissed them, and that he was cold to the touch, and his breath like a damp air; that he scourged them oft, and was a most "wicked and barbarous master;" and that when he administered the sacrament to them the bread was like wafers, and the drink like blood or black moss-water: that he transformed them to the likeness of bees, and crows, and ravens, when they flew about from place to place as he ordered. THE DEVIL IN HIS CUPS.[62] On December 19, 1679, the parish of Borrowstonness was again in an uproar concerning the evil doings of witches and wizards, the chief of whom was Annaple Thomson, once a widow, but now a wife. She was charged with having one day met the devil on her way between Linlithgow and Borrowstonness, when he "in the lyknes of ane black man told yow that yow wis ane poore puddled bodie, and had ane evill lyiff, and difficultie to win throw the warld; and promised that iff ye wald followe him, and go alongst with him, yow should never want, but have ane better lyiff; and abowt fyve wekes therafter, the Devill appeired to yow, when yow wis goeing to the coal-hill, about sevin o'clock in the morning. Having renewed his former tentatiowne yow did condescend thereto, and declared yowrselff content to follow him, and becwm his servant;"--which was bad of Annaple Thomson, and sure to bring her to ineffectual grief. Then some others, men and women both, were further informed of their misdeeds. They were told that "ye, and each person of yow, wis at several mettings with the Devill in the linkes of Borrowstownes, and in the howse of yow, Bessie Vickar, and ye did eatt and drinke with the Devill, and with on another, and with witches in hir howss in the nycht tyme; and the Devill and the said William Craw browght the ale which ye drank, extending to about sevin gallons, from the howss of Elisabeth Hamilton." So did the rest. Margaret Pringle, whose right wrist the devil had grievously pained, "but having it twitched of new againe, it immediatelie becam haill;" Margaret Hamilton, with whom the devil had at sundry times "drank several choppens of ale with yow," when they met at the town-well at Borrowstonness and talked together like two old gossips; also, another Margaret Hamilton, relict of James Pullwart, with whom the devil conversed in the likeness of a black man, but afterwards removed from her as a dog--they all committed abominable sins with the devil, and entertained him familiarly like any other cummer. And were they not all at the meeting with the "Devill and other witches at the croce of Murestaine," above Kinneil, upon "the threttin of October last, where yow all danced, and the Devill acted the pyiper, and where yow endevored to have destroyed Andrew Mitchell, sone to John Mitchell, elder in Dean of Kinneil?" The case was considered clear enough for all rational men in Borrowstonness; so Annabel Thomson, Margaret Pringle, the two Margaret Hamiltons, William Craw, and Bessie Vickar, were "found guiltie be ane assyse of the abominable cryme of Witchcraft," and were ordered to be taken to the west end of Borrowstonness, "the ordinar place of execution," betwixt two and four in the afternoon, and "there be wirried at a steack till they be dead, and thereafter to have their bodies burnt to ashes." THE GHOST OF THE BLACK-BROWED MAID.[63] If bodies were safe after death, characters were not. Isabel Heriot was maid of all work to the minister at Preston. "She was of a low Stature, small and slender of Body, of a Black Complexion. Her Head stood somewhat awry upon her Neck. She was of a droll and jeering Humour, and would have spoken to Persons of Honour with great Confidence." After some short time of service, her master the minister began to dislike her, because she was not eager in her religious duties; so he discharged her: and in 1680 she died--and "about the time of her death her face became extreamly black." Two or three nights after her burial, one Isabel Murray saw her, in her white grave-clothes, walk from the chapel to the minister's louping-on stone (horse-block). Here she halted, leaning her elbow on the stone, then went in at the back gate, and so towards the stable. A few nights after this stones were flung at the minister's house, over the roof, and in at the doors and windows; but they fell softly for the most part, and did no especial damage. Yet one night, just as the minister was coming in at the hall door, a great stone was flung after him, which hit the door very smartly and marked it. Isabel Murray was also hit with stones, and the serving-man who looked to the horses was gripped at the heel by something which made him cry out lustily. So it went on. Stones and clods, and lighted coals, and even an old horse-comb long since lost, were perpetually flying about, and only by severe prayer was the minister able to lay the devil who molested them. Soon Isabel Murray reappeared with a fresh set of circumstances concerning the ghost of her namesake Isabel Heriot, the maid of all work. She said that as she was coming from church between sermons, to visit her house and kailyard for fear some vagrant cows might have got over the dyke--which were very likely of the true Maclarty type--on going down her own yard, which was next to the minister's, she saw again the apparition of Isabel Heriot, as she was when laid in her coffin. "Never was an egg liker to another than this Apparition was like to her, as to her Face, her Stature, her Motion, her Tongue, and Behaviour; her face was black like the mouten soot, the very colour which her face had when she died." The ghost was walking under the fruit-trees, and over the beds where the seeds had been sown, bending her body downwards, as if she had been seeking somewhat off the ground, and saying, "A stane! a stane!" Her lap was full of stones; as some people supposed the stones she cast in the night-time; and these stones she threw down, as if to harbour them, at a bush-root in the garden. Isobel Murray, nothing daunted, goes up to her. "Wow!" says she, "what's thou doing here, Isabel Heriot? I charge thee by the law thou lives on to tell me." Says the ghost, "I am come again because I wronged my master when I was his servant. For it was I that stealed his Shekel (this was a Jewish shekel of gold which, with some other things, had been stolen from him several years before), which I hid under the Hearthstone in the Kitching, and then when I flited took it into the Cannongate, and did offer to sell it to a French Woman who lodged where I served, who askt where I got it. I told her I found it between Leith and Edinburgh." Then she went on to make further confession. Having fyled herself for a thief she went on to show how she had been also a witch. "One night," says the ghost, "I was riding home late from the Town, and near the Head of Fanside Brae, the Horse stumbled, and I said, The Devil raise thee; whereupon the Foul Thief appeared presently to me, and threatened me, if I would not grant to destroy my Master the Minister, he would throw me into a deep hole (which I suppose is yet remaining); or if I could not get power over my master, I should strive to destroy the Shoolmaster." "It was very remarkable," says George Sinclair, as a kind of commentary, "that one of the minister's servant-women had given to the schoolmaster's servant-woman some Linnings to make clean, among which there was a Cross cloth of strong Linning, which could never be found, though diligent search was made for it, till one morning the Master awakening found it bound round about his Night Cap, which bred admiration both to himself and his Wife. No more skaith was the Devil or the Witches able to do him. What way this was done, or for what end it cannot be well known: but it is somewhat probable that they designed to strangle and destroy him in the night time, which is their usual time in working and doing of mischief. This happened about the time (I suppose) that the Devil had charged Isabel Heriot to destroy this honest man. Yet within two days a young child of his, of a year old, fell sick, which was quickly pulled away by death, none knowing the cause or nature of the disease." Isabel Murray went on to say, that furthermore the ghost confessed to her, that she, Isabel Heriot, when in life, had met the devil a second time at Elfiston Mill, near to Ormiston: and she told what foulness the devil did to her. Also, one night as she was coming home from Haddington Market with some horse-corn, she met the devil at Knock-hills, and he bade her destroy Thomas Anderson, who was riding with her. When she refused he threw all the horse-corn off the horse. "This Thomas Anderson was a Christian man," and when Murray told her tale "well remembered that Isabel had got up the next morning timeously," and brought home her oats which had lain in the road all the night. She said too that she had cheated her master whenever she went to the market to buy oats, charging him more than they cost--not an unusual practice with servants at market anywhere; and she told Isabel Murray that the stone cast at her was not for herself but for her goodman, who had once flung her, the ghost, into the jawhole, and abused her. At this point Murray said she began to be frightened, and ran home in all haste. So Isabel Heriot's character was settled for ever, and her neighbours only thought the judgment came too late. THE SUCCUBUS.[64] William Barton, a loose-lived man of notoriously strong passions, was apprehended for witchcraft. His confession included the not very frequent Scottish element of a Succubus--a demon under the form of a beautiful woman who beguiled him, and to whom he made himself over for love and gold. She baptized him under the name of John Baptist, gave him her mark, and fifteen pounds Scots in good gold as Tocher-money; and then they parted. When he had gone but a little way she called him back and gave him a mark to spend at the Ferry, desiring him to keep the fifteen pounds safe and unbroken. At this point in his confession the poor wretch was weary, and asked leave to go to sleep; which, for a wonderful stretch of humanity, the judges granted. Suddenly he awakened with a loud laugh. The magistrates asked why he laughed?--and he said that during his sleep the devil had come to him, very angry at his confession, and bidding him deny all when he awoke, "for he should be his Warrand." After this he became "obdured," and would never confess anything again; the devil persuading him that no man should take his life. And even when they told him that the stake was set up and the fire built round, he only answered, "he cared not for all that, for," said he, "I shal not die this day." How should he if no man was to kill him? Upon this the executioner came into the prison, but fell stone dead as he crossed the threshold. Hastily the magistrates offered a reward to the executioner's wife if she would undertake her husband's office, and strangle the poor mad fellow before he was burnt; which she agreed to do, for all that she was in great pain and grief, clapping her hands and crying, "Dool for this parting my dear burd Andrew Martin!" When the warlock heard that a woman was to put him to death, he fell into a passion of crying, saying that the devil had deceived him, and "let no man ever trust his promises again!" Barton's wife was imprisoned with him. On her side she declared that she had never known her husband to be a warlock; he on his that he had never known her to be a witch: but presently the mask fell off, and she confessed. She said that malice against one of her neighbours had driven her to give herself over to the devil, that he had baptized her by the name of Margaratus, and taken her to be very near to him; a great deal too near for even a virtuous woman's thoughts. When asked if she had found pleasure in his society, she answered, "Never much." But one night, going to a witches' dance upon Pentland Hills, he went before them all in the likeness of a rough tanny dog, playing on a pair of pipes. The spring he played, said she, was "The silly bit chicken, gar cast it a pickle, and it will grow mickle;" and coming down the hill they had the best sport of all: the devil carried the candle and his tail went, "ey wig wag, wig wag!" Margaratus was burnt with her husband. THE ISLAND WITCHES. The Orkney and Shetland islanders were rich in witchcraft superstitions. They had all the Norwegian beliefs in fullest, ripest quality, and held to everything that had been handed down to them from Harald Harfagre and his followers. Kelpies and trows, and brownies and trolls, which somehow or other went out with taxation and agriculture, peopled every stream and every meadow, and witches were as many as there were men who loved nature, or women who had a faculty for healing and the instinct of making pets. Somewhere about the middle of the seventeenth century a woman was adjudged a witch because she was seen going from Hilswick to Brecon with a couple of familiars in the form of black crows or corbies, which hopped on each side of her, all the way. Which thing, not being in the honest nature of these fowls to do, she was strangled and burnt. But most frequently the imp took the form of a cat or dog; sometimes of a respectable human being; as was the case about seventy years ago, when it was notorious that the devil, as a good braw countryman, helped a warlock's wife to delve while her husband was engaged at the Haaf. According to the same authority too,[65] not longer ago than this time, when the devil dug like any navvy, a woman of the parish of Dunrossness was known to have a deadly enmity against a boat's crew that had set off from the Haaf. The day was cloudless, but the woman was a witch, and storms were as easy for her to raise as to blow a kiss from the hand. She took a wooden basin, called a _cap_, and set it afloat in a tub of water; then, as if to disarm suspicion, went about her household work, chanting softly to herself an old Norse ditty. After she had sung a verse or two she sent her little child to look at the tub, and see whether the cap was _whummilled_ (turned upside down) or no. The child said the water was stirring but the bowl was afloat. The woman went on singing a little louder; and presently sent the child again to see how matters stood. This time the child said there was a strange swell in the water, but the cap still floated. The woman then sang more loud and fierce; and again she sent. The child came back saying the waters were strangely troubled, and the cap was whummilled. Then she cried out, "The turn is done!" and left off singing. On the same day came word that a fishing yawl had been lost in the Roust, and all on board drowned. The same story is told of some women in the island of Fetlar, who, when a boat's crew had perished in the Bay of Funzie, were found sitting round a well, muttering mysterious words over a wooden bowl supernaturally agitated. The whole thing, as Hibbert says, forcibly reminds one of the old Norse superstition of the Quern Song. It was no unusual thing for men and women of otherwise peaceable and cleanly life to tamper with the elements in those dim and distant days. Even seventy years ago a man named John Sutherland of Papa Stour was in the habit of getting a fair wind for weather-bound vessels: and the Knoll of Kibister, in the island of Bressay, now called Luggie's Knowe,[66] testifies by its name to the skill and sorrowful fate of a well-known wizard of the seventeenth century. There on that steep hill used Luggie to live, and in the stormiest weather managed somehow always to have his bit of fresh fish: angling with the most perfect success, even when the boats could not come into the bay. When out at sea Luggie had nothing to do but cast out his lines to have as plentiful a dinner as he could desire. "He would out of Neptune's lowest kitchen, bring cleverly up fish well-boiled and roasted;" but strange and mischancy as the art was, his companions got accustomed to it, "and would by a natural courage make a merry meal thereof, not doubting who was cook." But Luggie's cleverness proved fatal to him. Men were not even adept fishers in those days without danger, and jealousy and fear helped to swell the reputation of his natural skill into supernatural power: so he was tried for a sorcerer, and burnt at a stake at Scalloway. We need hardly wonder at the fate of poor Luggie, considering the times. If it were possible to hang two women on the 26th of January, 1681--actually to hang them in the sight of God and this loving pitiful human world, "for calling kings and bishops perjured bloody men,"[67] we need not wonder to what lengths superstition in any of its other forms was carried. We have made a stride since then, with seven-leagued boots winged at the heels. A family of bright young sons[68] lived on one of the Shetland islands. A certain Norwegian lady had reason to think herself slighted by one of them, and she swore she would have her revenge. The sons were about to cross a voe or ferry; but one was to take his shelty, while the rest were to go by the boat. Mysteriously the shelty was found to have been loosed from its tether, and was gone; so all the heirs male of the race were under the necessity of going by the boat across the voe. It was the close of day---a mild windless evening: not a ripple was on the water, not a cloud in the sky; and no one on either bank heard a cry or saw the waters stir. But the youths never returned home. When they were searched for the next day they could nowhere be found: only the boat drifting to the shore, unharmed and unsteered. When the deed was done the shelty was brought back to its tether as mysteriously as it had been taken away. Trials and executions still went on; some at Dumfries, and some at Coldingham[69] where Margaret Polwart was publicly rebuked for using charms and incantations to recover her sick child whom "that thief Christian Happer had wronged." But as a neighbour told her very wisely, "They that chant cannot charm, or they that lay on cannot take off the disease, or they that do wrong to any one, cannot recover them," so what was the good of all her notorious cantrips with Jean Hart and Alison Nisbet--the last of such evil fame that she had lately been scratched for a witch--that is, had blood drawn above her breath? Margaret Polwart might be thankful that she got off with only a rebuke for using charms in place of drugs, and consorting with witches to undo witches' work. In 1696, Janet Widdrow and Isobel Cochrane were brought to trial, but not burnt for the present; but two poor creatures, M'Rorie and M'Quicken, did not escape: nor some others, of no special dramatic interest. And now we come to that marvellous piece of disease and imposture combined, the notorious case of "Bargarran's Daughter." THE RENFREWSHIRE WITCHES.[70] Christian Shaw, Bargarran's daughter, was a little girl of about eleven years of age, "of a lively character and well inclined." On the 17th of August, 1696, she saw the woman servant, Katherine Campbell, steal a drink of milk from the can, whereupon she threatened to tell her mother; but Campbell, "being a young woman of a proud and revengeful temper, and much addicted to cursing and swearing upon any light occasion," turned against her vehemently, wishing "that the Devil might harle her soul through hell," and cursing her with violent imprecations. Five days after this, Agnes Naismith, an old woman of bad fame, came into the courtyard, and asked Christian how old she was, and how she did, inquiring also after the health of other members of the family. Christian gave her a pert answer, and there the matter ended; but the next night the young girl was taken with fits, and the first act of the long and mournful tragedy began. In her fits she cried out against Katherine Campbell and Agnes Naismith, saying they were cutting her side and otherwise tormenting her; then she struggled as with an unseen enemy, and her body was, now bowed stiff and rigid, resting in an arch on her head and her heels alone, and now shaken with such a strange motion of rising and falling, as it had been a pair of bellows; her tongue was drawn into her throat, and even the great Dr. Brisbane of Glasgow himself was puzzled by what name to call her passion, for she began to vomit strange things, which she said the witches, her tormentors, forced upon her--such as crooked pins, small fowl bones, sticks of candle fir, filthy hay, gravel stones, lumps of candle-grease, and egg-shells. And still she cried out against Katherine Campbell and Agnes Naismith; holding long conversations with the former, whom she affirmed to be sitting close by when she was perhaps many miles away, and arguing with her out of the Bible: exhorting her to repent of her sins with more unction than logical clearness of reasoning. Agnes Naismith she took somewhat into favour again; for the poor old woman, having been brought by the parents into the chamber where she lay, and having prayed for her a little simple prayer very heartily, the afflicted damsel condescended to exempt her from further persecution for the moment, saying that she was now her defender and did protect her from the fury of the rest. For the crafty child had seen too well how her first venture had sped not to venture on a broader cast. One day being in her fits she made a grip with her hands as if to catch something, then exclaimed that J. P. was then tormenting her, and that she had got a grip of his jerkin which was "duddie" (tattered) at the elbows; and immediately her mother and aunt heard the tearing of cloth, and the girl showed them in her hands two pieces of red cloth newly torn, where never a bit of red cloth had been before. Then she went off into a swoon or "swerf," and lay as if dead a considerable time. These fits continued with more or less severity far into the winter of the next year, and with ever new victims claimed by her as her tormentors. Now it was Elizabeth Anderson; now James and Thomas Lindsay--the latter a young lad of eleven, "the gley'd or squint-eyed elf," as she called him; now "the scabbed-faced lass," who came to the door to ask alms; and now the weary old Highland body, begging for a night's lodging; then Alexander Anderson, father of Elizabeth; and Jean Fulton, the grandmother; and then Margaret Lang--Pincht Margaret as she was called--"a Name given her by the Devil, from a Pincht Cross cloath, ordinarily worn on her Brow;" and her daughter, Martha Semple. Of the twenty-one people accused by this wicked girl, Margaret Lang and her daughter were the most remarkable--the one for her courage, her fine character and powerful mind, the other for her youth, her beauty, and child-like innocence of nature. When she heard that she was accused, Margaret--who had been advised to get out of the way for a time, but who had answered disdainfully, "Let them quake that dread and fear that need, but I will not gang"--went up straight to Bargarran house, and passing into the chamber where Christian lay, put her arms round her and spoke to her soothingly, saying, "The Lord bless thee and ding the devil frae thee!" She then asked her pointedly if she had ever seen her among her tormentors?--to which the girl said. "No, but she had seen her daughter Martha." Afterwards she retracted this admission and said that Margaret had really afflicted her, but that she was under a spell when asked and could not confess. Martha could not take things so gently. "She was as well-Favoured and Gentill a Lass as you'l look on, and about 17 or 18 years of Age," says an old authority in an anonymous letter written to a couple of initials. Poor Martha! her youth and beauty and passionate distress moved even the bigoted wretches who condemned her; but their compassion led to nothing pitiful or merciful, and the poor, bright, beautiful girl passed into the awful doom of the rest. Then the authorities "questioned" the witches; they were pricked, according to custom and the national law; and "There was not any of them, save Margaret Fulton, but marks were found on them, which were altogether insensible. That a Needle of 3 Inches length was frequently put in without their knowledge, nor would any Blood come from these places." Elizabeth Anderson, a girl of seventeen, a beggar, James Lindsay, of fourteen, and gley'd Thomas, his brother, not yet twelve--who for a halfpenny would turn himself widershins and stop a plough at a word--were found willing and able to confess. Elizabeth Anderson was especially determined that things should not be lost for the want of finding. She said that about twenty days ago her father had told her to go with him to Bargarran's yard, somewhere about noon, where they met a black man with a bonnet on his head, and a band round his neck, whom her father and Agnes Naismith, then present, told her was the devil: that certain people, named, were also in their company; that their discourse was all of Christian Shaw, then lying sick, "whose Life they all promis'd to take away by the stopping of her Breath;" that they all danced in the yard; that her father "Discharged her to tell anything she saw, or she would be Torn in Pieces: and that she was more Affraied of the forsaid persons than she was of the Devil." This confession was made on the 5th of February, 1697. A few days later her imagination was more lively. About seven years ago, she said, as she was playing round the door of her grandmother, Jean Fulton's, house, she saw "ane black grim man" go into the house to her grandmother, where he abode for a while talking. Jean bade her take the gentleman by the hand, and he would give her "ane Bony Black, new Coat; which accordingly she did." But his hand was cold and she was afeard: and then he vanished away. The same thing happened once again, when the black gentleman and her grandmother fell a-talking together by "rounding in other's ears," but the girl understood not what they said. This time she would not touch his hand for all his promises of bran new clothes; so "the gentleman went away in a flight," and she saw him no more for long after. The next time was when her father "desired her to go with him through the Country and seek their Meat; to which she replyed she need not seek her Meat, seeing she might have Work:" but her father prevailed, and took her to a moor where above twenty people were assembled; whose names she gives in a formidable muster. Now the devil tempted her anew with meat and clothes, but she would not consent; so he and her father stepped aside and conferred together. Their meeting this day was for the destruction of a certain minister's child, which they were to effect by means of a wax picture and pins. Another time it was for the destruction of another minister's child by the same means, and she heard Margaret Rodger say, "Stay a little, till I stop ane Pin in the Heart of it:" which accordingly she did. This time her father took her on his back over the water to Kilpatrick in a Flight, saying Mount and Fly. She was with the witch crew when they drowned Brighouse by upsetting his boat, and when they strangled a child with a sea napkin: after which they all danced with the devil "in ane black Coat, ane Blew Bonnet, ane Blew Band," who played the pipes for them, and gave them each a piece of an unchristened bairn's liver to eat, so that they should never confess if apprehended. With other abominations too foul to be repeated. The same day, February 18th, James Lindsay, the elder of the two brothers, confessed. Jean Fulton was his grandmother too, and he said that one day, when she met him, she took his little round hat and plack from him. Being loath to part with the same, he ran after her crying for them: which she refusing, he called her an old witch, and ran away. Whereupon she threatened him. Eight days after this, as he was begging through the country near Inchannan where she lived, he met her again; and this time she had with her "ane black grim man with black cloaths, ane black Hat and blew Band," who offered his hand, which James took and which he found cold as it gript him straitly. The gentleman asked if he would serve him for a Bonny black coat and a black hat, and several other things, to which he replied "Yes, I'll do't." He then went to all the meetings, and saw all the people and did all the things that Elizabeth had spoken of; even to strangling Montgomerie's bairn with a sea napkin at twelve o'clock at night, while the servant girl was watching by the cradle. Young Thomas the gley'd followed next, confessing to just the same things, even to the liver of the "uncrissened bairn," which all eat save Elizabeth and their two selves: a slip-by that accounted for their confessions. And now justice had a good handful to begin with, so the work of accusation went briskly forward. Bargarran's daughter still continued bringing out crooked pins and stones and all sorts of unmentionable filth from her mouth, and still went on quarrelling with the devil whom she called an old sow, and holding conversations with the apparitions of her tormentors, still mixed up fraud with epilepsy, and lies and craft and wicked guile with hysteria, till the witch-fires were fairly lighted, and seven of the poor wretches "done to death." Among whom brave Margaret and her beautiful child held the most prominent place. Never for a moment did Margaret Lang lose her courage or self-possession. Seeing a farmer whom she knew, among the crowd assembled round the gallows, she called out to him bitterly, "that he would now thrive like a green bay-tree, for there would be no innocent blood shed that day;" but what she meant for irony the people took for confession. When she was burned, the answer of a spectator to one who asked if the execution was over, showed what feeling they had about her: "There's ane o' the witches in hell, an' the rest 'ill shune follow!" said he contentedly. Another man, whose stick was taken to push back the legs of the poor wretches as they were thrust out of the flames, when it was returned to him, flung it into the flames, saying, "I'll tak nae stick hame wi' me to nay hous that has touched a witch." When all was over and the sacrifice was complete, Bargarran's daughter declared herself satisfied and cured; no more "bumbees" came to pinch her--no more charms of balls of hair or waxen eggs were laid beneath her bed--no more apparitions thronged to vex her, nor had she fits or tossings, foamings or strange swellings as of old; the devil left off tempting her with promises of a fine gentleman for a husband; the witches no longer allured her by phantom aprons filled with phantom almonds; the Lord "helped the poor daft child," as Mrs. M. had prayed, though she was scarce worth the helping, and the world was oppressed with her lies no more. But the blood of the murdered innocent lay red on the ground, and cried aloud to heaven for vengeance against the murderers. The case of Bargarran's daughter has been always accepted as one of the most puzzling on record; but when may not mankind be puzzled if they have but sufficient credulity? Subtract from this account the possible and the certain--the possible frauds and the certain lies--and what is left? A diseased girl, hysterical and epileptic, full of hallucinations and pretended fancies, with a certain quickness of hand which the tremendous gullibility of her auditory rendered yet more facile--unscrupulous, mendacious; the only thing surprising in the whole matter was that there was not one man of sufficient coolness of judgment, or quickness of perception, to see through the imposture and set his grip on it ere it passed. Dickie and Mitchell, who a few years back visited the house where all this took place, found a slit or hole in the wooden partition between her bedroom and the room next it; a slit, evidently made purposely, and not a natural defect in the wood, and so placed that when the bed was made up (the bed of richly-carved oak yet stands or stood there) it could not be seen by any one in the room. This little fact seems to speak volumes, and to help materially towards establishing the questions of fraud and connivance. The remote sequel is the only consoling feature in the case. From being the most notorious impostor and the most cruel, false, and deadly persecutor of her time, Bargarran's daughter, as Mrs. Miller, became one of the best and most famous spinners of fine and delicate thread. She caused certain machinery to be brought from Holland, and wrought at her spinning wheel with all the intelligence and zeal that, earlier, had been so miserably employed to the ruin and destruction of her fellow-creatures. It is to be hoped that the coolness and reflection of maturity gave her grace to repent of the sins of her girlhood, and that after-penitence wiped out the terrible stains of youthful lying and murder. MISCELLANEOUS. That same year also Sir John Maxwell, of Pollok, and some other gentlemen, were commissioned to try two poor women, Mary Millar and Elspeth M'Ewen, and if guilty adjudge them to death; which they were found to be, and adjudged accordingly; and a few months after, Margaret Laird--still in Renfrewshire--was reputed to have been "under ane extraordinary and most lamentable trouble, falling into strange and horrible fits, judged by all who have seen her to be preternatural, arising from the devil and his instruments." The suspected witches who were accused of troubling her, were seized and put upon their trial. So was Mary Morrison, spouse of Francis Duncan; but her husband petitioned so earnestly for her release for sake of her "numerous poor family" starving in neglect at home, and there being no kind of proof against her, she was at length released and set at liberty. "The Lord-Advocate soon after reported to the Privy Council a letter he had received from the Sheriff of Renfrewshire, stating that 'the persons imprisoned in that county as witches are in a starving condition, and that those who informed against them are passing from them, and the sheriff says he will send them in prisoners to Edinburgh Tolbooth, unless they be quickly tried.' His lordship was recommended to ask the sheriff to support the prisoners till November next, when they would probably be tried, and the charges would be disbursed by the treasury. A distinct allowance of a groat a day was ordered on the 12th of January, 1699, for each of the Renfrewshire witches."[71] In July of the same year, Ross-shire contributed a famous quota. Twelve luckless creatures were reported at once as being guilty of the "diabolical crimes and charms of witchcraft," and by the 2nd of January, 1700, two of them had confessed, and were sentenced to such arbitrary punishment as the committee might think proper. "This is the first appearance of an inclination in the central authorities to take mild views of witchcraft," says Chambers; but we have not seen the last of capital punishments, for on the 20th of November, 1702, Margaret Myles was hanged at Edinburgh. That she was a witch was proved not only by her own confession, but by her inability to say the Lord's Prayer, even when the minister, Mr. George Andrews, tried to teach her. When he desired her to pray "her heart was so obdured that she answered she could not; for, as she confessed, she was in covenant with the devil, who had made her renounce her baptism." He then wished her to say the Lord's Prayer after him, and she began, but she would say nothing but "Our Father which wart in heaven," and could not by any means be got to say the right word. He then reproached her, saying, "How could she bid him pray for her, since she could not pray for herself?" and, singing two verses of the 51st Psalm, he made her show a little penitence. Then he essayed her again, trying to make her repeat after him, "I renounce the devil," but she would only say, "I unce the devil;" "for by no means would she say distinctly that she renounced the devil, and adhered unto her baptism, but that she unced the devil, and hered unto her baptism. The only sign of repentance she gave was after the napkin had covered her face, for then she said, 'Lord, take me out of the devil's hands, and put me in God's.'" The next year, "The Rigwoodie Witch," lean Marion Lillie of Spott, was had before the Kirk Session to account for her dealings in the village. She was a passionate-tongued old dame, who had handled roughly one of her neighbours while in the condition that looked forward to Mrs. Gamp and the caudle-cup; so roughly, indeed, that Mrs. Gamp and the caudle-cup were forestalled, and the poor woman was brought to an unpleasant pass; so the Rigwoodie witch got something not so pleasant as a month's nursing, and was put out of the way of handling pregnant women roughly for the future. THE STIRK'S FOOT.[72] Jean Neilson lived in Torryburn, a village in the west of Fife, and she and Lillias Adie, a woman of more than equivocal reputation, were not on the best of terms. Jean Neilson was but a poor sickly body, full of fancies and uncatalogued ailments; and because she had no scientific name to give them, she gave Lillias the credit of having created them by her magic. She swore that she was bewitched, and that old Lillias was the bewitcher. Upon which the ministers and elders of the kirk in Torryburn met in solemn conclave on the 29th of July, and called Lillias before them to give an account of her bad practices. Lillias had no mind that they should lose their trouble. She confessed herself a witch without further ado; said how that she had met the devil by the side of a "stook" in the harvest field, where she had renounced her baptism and accepted him on the instant as her lord and lover; how he had embraced her, when she found his skin cold, and saw his feet cloven like a "stirk's." Since then she had joined in dances with him and others whom she named; for Lillias, like all the rest, seemed to think there was safety in a multitude, and delated several of the parish, to bear her company in her uncomfortable position; and she told how, at the back of Patrick Sands' house in Vellyfield, they were lighted by a mysterious light, just sufficient to let them see each other's faces, and to show the devil with a cap covering his ears and neck. The minister and elders had now rich game in view, and they held meeting after meeting to examine those whom Lillias accused, and feed their ears with all the wild and monstrous tales they chose to pour into them. But what became of them eventually no one now knows: only of a surety Lillias Adie was burned "within the sea mark," and Jean Neilson might now bear her uncatalogued ailments in peace. The minister of Torryburn at that time was one Allen Logan--the Reverend Allen Logan--notorious for his skill in detecting witches, and his zeal in hunting them down. When administering the communion he would flash his eye through the congregation and say harshly, as by knowledge, "You witch-wife, get up from the table of the Lord," casting a ball for the conscience-stricken to kick at; when, ten to one, some poor old trembling wretch would totter up, and so go mumbling through the doors, "thus exposing herself to the hazard of a regular accusation afterwards." He was always "dinging" against witchcraft; and one day a woman called Helen Kay took up her stool and went out of the church. She said she thought he was "daft" "to be always dinging against witches thae' gait;" but the elders thought differently, and Helen Kay was convicted of profanity, and ordained to sit before the congregation and be openly rebuked. THE HORRIBLE MURDER OF JANET CORNFOOT.[73] While Lillias Adie was being burned in the west of Fife, Beatrix Laing, at Pittenweem in the east, was put to sore trouble. Patrick Morton, a youth of sixteen "free from any known vice," sent up a petition to the Privy Council (June 13, 1704), stating, that being employed by his father to make some nails for a ship lying off Pittenweem, Beatrix Laing, spouse to William Brown, tailor, and late treasurer of the burgh, came and demanded some nails. He "modestly" refused her, saying that he was engaged in another job, and could not therefore work for her; whereupon she went away, "threatening to be revenged, which did somewhat frighten him, because he knew she was under a bad fame and reputed for a witch." The next day, on passing Beatrix's door, "he observed a timber vessel with some water and fire coal in it at the door, which made him apprehend that it was a charm laid for him, and the effect of her threatening; and immediately he was seized with such a weakness in his limbs that he could hardly stand or walk." For many weeks this strange kind of lingering disease and discomfort went on, he "still growing worse, having no appetite, and his body strangely emaciated," all because of Beatrix having "slockened" fire coals in a vessel as a malevolent charm for him; till about May the disease ripened, and the symptoms of hysteria and epilepsy presented themselves. He swelled prodigiously; his breathing was like the blowing of a pair of bellows; his body was rigid and inflexible; his tongue was drawn into his mouth; and he cried out vehemently against Beatrix Laing and others--for these accusations never came alone; professing to know his tormentors by their touch if brought to him, although his eyes were blinded, and the bystanders held their peace. In short, he played the same antics here in the east as Bargarran's daughter had played in the west. Beatrix and the rest were flung into prison, and every effort was made to induce them to confess. Beatrix was pricked, and kept without sleep for five days and nights; but she held out manfully. She would not consent to accept the modest youth's interpretation of his illness, and denied strongly all hand in it, and all trafficking with witch charms or unholy arts. At last she was conquered. Sleeplessness and torture did their appointed work, and she made a rambling statement of baptismal renunciation, and the like, delating Janet Cornfort and others, which confession she recanted as soon as she had got a little strength; and specially that part where she had spoken of her fine packs of wool which she had sold so well at the market, coming home afterwards on a big black horse, which she gave into her husband's hands. Her husband, she had said, was embarrassed with this big black horse, and asked what he should do with it? to which she had answered, "Cast his bridle on his neck and you will be quit of him." So the horse flew off overhead with a great noise, and Beatrix Laing's startled husband for the first time understood its real character. In revenge at her obduracy the magistrates "put her in the stocks, and then carried her to the Thieves' Hole, and from that transported her to a dark dungeon, where she was allowed no manner of light, or human converse; and in this condition she lay for five months." All this while the magistrates of the burgh were pressing on the Privy Council the absolute need of trying her; but the Earl of Balcarres and Lord Anstruther, two members of the council connected with the district, interposed their influence, and got the poor creature set at liberty;--"brought her off as a dreamer," says the anonymous pamphlet angrily. But she was forced to turn her face from Pittenweem, and "wandered about in strange places, in the extremity of hunger and cold, though she had a competency at home, but dared not come near her own house," for fear of the fury and rage of the people: dying at last "undesired" in her bed at St. Andrews. Beatrix was wandering about in strange places, safe if sorrowful, but Alexander Macgregor clinched her muttered charge against Janet Cornfoot by accusing her of perpetually haunting him--she and two other witches, and his Cloutieship along with them. They tormented him chiefly in the night time, while he was sleeping in his bed. Janet, under torture confessed; but retracted immediately after, saying that the minister himself had beaten her with his staff to make her speak out: and there being considerable doubt of her guilt in the minds of the gentry of the district, even of the chastising minister himself, she was allowed to escape, by connivance. But another minister of the neighbourhood, with more zeal than humanity and more grace than knowledge, stopped her in her flight, and sent her back to Pittenweem. There the mob got hold of her. They had been fearfully excited by Beatrix Laing's acquittal and Janet's escape, and they were not disposed to let this unexpected glut to their vengeance go. They seized poor Janet Cornfoot, tied her up hard in a rope, beat her unmercifully, then dragged her by the heels through the streets and along the shore. "The appearance of a bailie for a brief space dispersed the crowd, but only to show how easily the authorities might have protected their victim if they had chosen." Resuming their horrible work, the rabble tied Janet to a rope stretching between a vessel in the harbour and the shore, swinging her to and fro, and amusing themselves by pelting her with stones. Tiring at length of this sport, they let her down with a sharp fall upon the beach, beat her again unmercifully, and finally covering her with a door, pressed her to death (Jan. 30, 1705). Janet's daughter was in the town, and knew what was taking place down by that blood-stained shore, but she dared not interfere; and during all the time this hideous murder was going on--lasting for nearly three hours--neither magistrate nor minister came forward to protect or interpose. Are verily and in truth "the powers that be ordained of God," or has not the devil sometimes something to do with the laying on of hands?--so much of the devil, at least, as is represented by ignorance, inhumanity, superstition, and cowardice, always conspicuous qualities of the more zealous of every denomination. About this time,[74] Thomas Brown, another of the accused, died of "hunger and hardship" in prison; and at the close of the year, two Inverness men, George and Lachlan Rattray, were executed, being found "guilty of the horrid crimes of mischievous charms, by witchcraft and malefice, sorcery or necromancy." And many witches were also burnt on the top of Spott Loan. THE SPELL OF THE SLAP.[75] In 1708, William Stensgar, of Southside, in Orkney, had rheumatism. He sent to an old beggar-woman, called Catherine Taylor--a cripple herself, but none the less qualified to heal others by her magic arts. She came to him about an hour before sunrise and took the case in hand, bidding him follow her till they came to a certain kind of gate or stile, called a slap or grind; William's wife accompanying them with a stoup of water. At this slap Catherine touched his knee, saying, "As I was going by the way I met the Lord Jesus Christ in the likeness of another man; he asked me what tidings I had to tell? I said I had no tidings to tell, but I am full of pain, and can neither gang nor stand. Thou shalt go to the holy kirk, and thou shalt gang round about, and then sit down upon thy knees, and say thy prayers to the Lord, and then thou shalt be as heal as the hour when Christ was born." After this precious charm, which the old cripple said had been taught her when a child, she repeated the 23rd Psalm; and then the evil spirit which had caused the rheumatism was assumed to be "telled out" into the stoup of water; at all events William Stensgar would have no more of it. Then the water was emptied out over the slap or gate so that the next person passing by the stile might get it instead of William. One man who had watched this devilry from the beginning, evaded the foul fiend by pushing his way through the hedge higher up; but another unfortunate wretch, not so lucky or not so early a riser, coming blundering over the stile as usual, got laid hold of by the fiend which William Stensgar had shaken off, and was holden by it hardly. THE PLAGUE OF CATS.[76] Year by year witches became scarcer, none of any special note presenting themselves till we come to the case of Margaret Nin-Gilbert, of Caithness, which happened in the year 1718; the same year as that in which the minister of Redcastle lost his life by witchcraft, and Mr. M'Gill's house at Kinross (he was minister there) was so egregiously troubled by a spirit which nipped the sheets and stuck pins into eggs and meat, and clipt away the laps of a gentlewoman's hood and a servant maid's gown tail, and flung stones down the chimney, which "wambled a space" on the floor, and then took a flight out of the window, and threw the minister's bible into the fire, and spoilt the baking, and played all sorts of mad pranks to disquiet the family and defy God. If such things as these could be done in the light of the sun, why, should not Margaret Nin-Gilbert have supernatural power? Nin-Gilbert had a friend, one Margaret Olson, a woman of it is said wicked behaviour, whom Mr. Frazer put out of her house, taking as his tenant instead one William Montgomerie. Upon this Margaret Olson went to her friend Nin-Gilbert, the notorious witch, and besought her to harm Mr. Frazer; but Mr. Frazer being a gentleman of rank and fortune was defended from the witches, and Nin-Gilbert confessed she had no power or inclination to hurt him. However, one night as he was crossing a bridge, they attempted him, but succeeded not; and he, on being questioned, said he perfectly remembered "his horse making a great adoe at that place, but that by the Lord's goodness he escaped." Also he had a great sickness at the time these women were taken, but he had common sense enough to refuse to ascribe it to them. Finding that they could not prevail against Mr. Frazer, they turned their attention to Montgomerie, "mason, in Burnside of Scrabster," who was also under the ban for having accepted the tenancy of which Margaret Olson had been dispossessed. Suddenly his house became so infested with cats that it was no longer safe for his family to remain there. He himself was away, but his wife sent to him five times, threatening that if he did not return home to protect them, she would flit to Thurso; and his servant left them suddenly, and in mid term, because five of these cats came one night to the fireside where she was alone, and began speaking among themselves with human and intelligible voices. So William Montgomerie, mason at Scrabster, returned home to do battle with the enemy. The cats came in their old way and in their old numbers; and William prepared his best. On Friday night, the 28th of November, one of the cats got into a chest with a hole in it, and when she put her head out of the hole, William made a lunge at her with his sword, which "cutt hir," but for all that he could not hold her. He then opened the chest, and his servant, William Geddes, stuck his dirk into her hind quarters and pinned her to the chest. After which, Montgomerie beat her with his sword and cast her out for dead; but the next morning she was gone; so there was no doubt as to her true character. Four or five nights after this, his servant, being in bed, "cryed out that Some of these catts had come in on him." Montgomerie ran to his aid, wrapt his plaid about the cat and thrust his dirk through her body, then smashed her head with the back of an axe, and cast her out like the first. The next morning she too was gone, and there was proof positive for another case. So as none of these cats belonged to the neighbourhood, and there were eight of them assembled together in one night, "this looking like witchcraft, it being threatened that none should thrive in my said house," William Montgomerie made petition to the Sherrif-Deput of Caithness, to visit "some person of bad fame," who was reported to have fallen sick immediately on this encounter, and search out if she had any wounds on her body or not. "This representation seeming all the time to be very incredulous and fabulous, the sheriff had no manner of regard yrto." But when, on the 12th of February, Margaret Nin-Gilbert was seen by one of her neighbours "to drop at her own door one of her leggs from the midle, and she, being under bad fame for witchcraft, the legg, black and putrified, was brought before the Sheriff-depute" (not the sheriff himself, the Earl of Caithness, who might have had a little more common sense)--then the said Sheriff-depute ordered Nin-Gilbert to be seized and examined. Margaret made short work of it. Being interrogated the 8th of February, 1719, she confessed that she was under compact with the devil, whom she had met in the likeness of a black man as she was travelling some long time byegone in ane evening; confessed also that he sometimes appeared to her as a great black horse, and other times as if riding on a black horse, and sometimes as a black cloud, and sometimes as a black hen. Confessed also that she was at William Montgomerie's house that evening, when he attacked her as a cat, and that he broke her leg with the dirk or axe, which since had fallen off from the rest of her body: also, that Margaret Olson was there with her, who, being stronger than she did cast her on the dirk when her leg was broken. She then delated four other women, one of whom, Helen Andrew, had been so crushed and maimed by Montgomerie, "that she dyed that same night of her wounds or few days yrafter:" and another, M'Huistan, "cast herself a few days afterwards from the rocks of Borrowstoun into the sea, since which time she was never seen; while a third, Jannet Pyper, she identified as having a red petticoat on her. Asked how they managed not to be discovered said, the devil raised a fog or mist to conceal them." When her confession was ended, her accomplices were apprehended; but she herself died in prison in a fortnight's time. Margaret Olson was then examined. She was "tryed in the shoulders" (for witches' marks), "where there were several small spots, some read, some blewish; after a needle was driven in with great force almost to the eye she felt it not. Mr. Innes, Mr. Oswald, minister, and several honest women, and Bailzie Forbes, were witnesses to this. And further, that while the needle was in her shoulder, as aforesaid, she said, 'Am not I ane honest woman now?'" So this instance of human wickedness and folly ended by the usual method of the cord and the stake. THE YOUNG HONOURABLE'S DECEITS. January, 1720, saw distress and confusion at Calder in Mid Lothian. Lord Torphichen's third son, the Honourable Patrick Sandilands, was bewitched, and the whole country was in excitement. If the devil could touch a Lord's son, who was safe? There was no doubt of the fact, let who would deny it. Lord Torphichen's son though he was, the Honourable Patrick Sandilands was worse holden than the meanest hind on the estate. He was buffeted about the room; flung down in trances, from which no horsewhippings--and it is to be hoped he had plenty of them, and well laid on--could revive him; he pronounced prophecies; was lifted up in the air; taken off long journeys between the space of two flashes of light; had the gift of clairvoyance; and put out all the candles by his very presence--his powers depending, as such powers generally do, on darkness and confusion for their perfect development. Lord Torphichen soon left off the use of the horsewhip, and he and all the family came to the conclusion that the Honourable Patrick was bewitched. So they got hold of the witch, a brutish, ignorant, half-witted woman living in the village of Calder, and put her in prison, waiting her confession. As for that, it was not difficult to get at. Yes, she was a witch; had been a witch for many years; had once given the devil her own dead child to make a roast of; had made an image of the young laird; and had three associates, two women and a man. Mad William Mitchell, the Tinklarian Doctor,[77] as he was called, went on foot in ill weather without food from the West Bow to Lord Torphichen's house at Calder, to see what he could do towards discovering the devil in the witches. This was on the 14th of January--the day of the solemn fast, which was all the help that the awakening reason of the times would allow the Honourable Patrick Sandilands. True, the witch and her confederates were in prison, but there was no gallows planted, and no fire set: only the ministers, and elders, and saints, and people, convened in solemn and sacred prayer, to beseech God to drive out the devil from a lying, mischievous, hysterical lad. But crazy William Mitchell took very little by this move, Lord Torphichen not favouring his pretensions to special and private illumination. The sermon was preached in the Calder Kirk by the Rev. Mr. John Wilkie, minister of Uphall, the sorcerers being present, and was found so powerful that the devil was fairly exorcised, and the boy soon after wholly recovered. In time he went to sea, rose to the command of an East Indiaman, but perished in a storm, leaving a meritorious name singularly stained with boyish sins. "It brings us strangely near to this wild-looking affair," says Chambers, "that the present Lord Torphichen (1860) is only _nephew_ to the witch-boy of Calder." THE LAST OF THE WITCHES. And now we draw near to the close of this fatal superstition. In 1726, Woodrow notes "some pretty odd accounts of witches," had from a couple of Ross-shire men, but fails to give us very accurate details, save only that one of them at her death "confessed that they had, by sorcery, taken away the sight of one of the eyes of an Episcopal minister, who lost the sight of his eye upon a sudden, and could give no reason for it." And early in the year of 1727[78] the last witch-fire was kindled with which the air of bonnie Scotland was polluted. Two poor Highland women, a mother and daughter, were brought before Captain David Ross of Littledean, deputy-sheriff of Sutherland, charged with witchcraft and consorting with the devil. The mother was accused of having used her daughter as her "horse and hattock," causing her to be shod by the devil, so that she was ever after lame in both hands and feet; and the fact being satisfactorily proved, and Captain David Ross being well assured of the same, the poor old woman was put into a tar-barrel and burned at Dornoch in the bright month of June. "And it is said that after being brought out to execution, the weather proving very severe, she sat composedly warming herself by the fire prepared to consume her, while the other instruments of death were getting ready." The daughter escaped: afterwards she married and had a son who was as lame as herself; and lame in the same manner too; though it does not seem that he was ever shod by the devil and witch-ridden. "And this son," says Sir Walter Scott, in 1830, "was living so lately as to receive the charity of the present Marchioness of Stafford, Countess of Sutherland in her own right." This, then, is the last execution for witchcraft in Scotland; and in June, 1736, the Acts Anentis Witchcraft were formally repealed. Henceforth, to the dread of the timid, and the anger of the pious, the English Parliament distinctly opposed the express letter of the Law of God, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live;" and declared the text upon which so much critical absurdity had been talked, and in support of which so much innocent blood had been shed, vain, superstitious, impossible, and contrary to that human reason which is the highest law of God hitherto revealed unto men. But if Parliament could stay executions it could not remove beliefs, nor give rationality in place of folly. Not more than sixty years ago an old woman named Elizabeth M'Whirter[79] was "scratched" by one Eaglesham, in the parish of Colmonel, Ayrshire, because his son had fallen sick, and the neighbours said he was bewitched. Poor old Bessie M'Whirter was forced over the hills to the young man's house, a distance of three miles, and there made to kneel by his bedside and repeat the Lord's Prayer. When she had finished, the youth's father took a rusty nail and scratched the poor old creature's brow in the form of a cross; scratched it so effectually that it was many weeks in healing, and the scar remained to the last day of her life. If Elizabeth M'Whirter had lived a generation earlier, she might have run a race with death and a tar barrel, and been defeated at the end, like the poor old wretch at Dornoch. But still the old faith lingers in those beautiful vales, and hides in the fastnesses of the mountain glens; still brownies haunt the ruined places, and witches send forth blight and bale at their will; still the elfin people ride on the whirlwind and dance in the moonlight; and the hill and the flood and the brae and the streamlet have their attendant spirits which vie with the churchyard ghost in impotent malevolence to men. And the gift of second sight, though dying out because of these degenerate times of utilitarianism and power-loom weaving, is yet to be found where the old blood runs thickest, and the old ideas are least disturbed; and still the whole nation clings with spasmodic force to its gloomy creed of the Predestined and the Elect, and holds by the early faith from whose narrow bounds others have emerged into a brighter and a wider path. No more witch-fires are now lighted on the Castle Hill; no more grave and reverend divines give themselves up, like Mr. John Aird, to discovering the devil's mark stamped visibly on human flesh; yet the heart of the people has not abandoned its ancient God, and though the altars may be dressed with the flowers of another season, and the name upon the plinth be carved in other characters, yet is the indwelling idol the same. The God which Calvinistic Scotland yet worships is the same God as that to which the witches and wizards of old were sacrificed; he is the God of Superstition, the God of Condemnation, in whose temple Nature has no place, and Humanity no rights. The Witches of England. "Every old woman with a wrinkled face, a furr'd brow, a hairy lip, a gobber tooth, a squint eye, a squeaking voice, or a scolding tongue, having a ragged coate on her back, a skull-cap on her head, a spindle in her hand, and a Dog or Cat by her side, is not only suspected but pronounced for a witch," says John Gaule;[80] while Reginald Scot[81] puts forth as his experience:--"One sort of such as are said to be witches, are women which be commonly old, lame, blear-eyed, pale, fowle, and full of wrinckles; poor, sullen, superstitious, and Papists; or such as know no religion; in whose drousie minds the devill hath gotten a fine seat; so as, what mischief, mischance, calamity or slaughter is brought to passe, they are easily perswaded the same is done by themselves; imprinting in their minds an earnest and constant imagination thereof. They are leane and deformed, showing melancholy in their faces, to the horror of all that see them. They are doting, scolds, mad, devilish; and not much differing from them that are thought to be possessed with spirits, so firm and steadfast in their opinions, as whosoever shall only have respect to the constancy of their words uttered, would easily believe they were true indeed." Dr. Harsnet, in his "Declaration of Popish Impostures," gives the subject a masterly touch of common sense and satire:--"These things," saith he, "are raked together out of old doating Heathen Histriographers, Wizzardizing Augurs, Imposturizing Soothsayers, Dreaming Poets, Chimerical Conceiters, and Coiners of Fables, &c. Out of these is shap'd the true Idea of a _Witch_, an old weather-beaten Crone, having her Chin and Knees meeting for Age, walking like a Bow leaning on a Staff, Hollow-Ey'd, Untooth'd, Furrow'd on her Face, having her Lips trembling with the Palsy, going mumbling in the Streets: One that hath forgotten her Pater Noster, and yet hath a shrewd Tongue to call a Drab a Drab. If she hath learn'd of an old Wife in a Chimney End Pax, Max, Fax, for a Spell; or can say Sir John Grantham's Curse for the Miller's Eels, All ye that have stolen the Miller's Eels, laudate Dominum de Coelis: And all they that have consented thereto, Benedicamus Domino: Why then beware, look about you, my Neighbours. If any of you have a Sheep sick of the Giddies, or a Stag of the Mumps, or a Horse of the Staggers, or a Knavish Boy of the School, or an idle Girl of the Wheel, or a young Drab of the Sullens, and hath not Fat enough for her Porrage, or Butter enough for her Bread, and she hath a little Help of the Epilepsy or Cramp, to teach her to roll her Eyes, wry her Mouth, gnash her Teeth, startle with her Body, hold her Arms and Hands stiff, &c. And then with an old Mother Nobs hath by Chance call'd her Idle young Housewife, or bid the Devil scratch her; then no doubt but Mother Nobs is the Witch, and the young Girl is Owl-blasted, &c." Then he goes on to say, with more force and right judgment than one could have expected from one of his generation:--"They that have their Brains baited, and their Fancies distemper'd with the Imaginations, and Apprehensions of Witches, Conjurers, and Fairies, and all that Lymphatical Chimæra, I find to be marshall'd in one of these five Ranks: Children, Fools, Women, Cowards, sick or black melancholick discompos'd Wits." These then are the sentiments of three somewhat wise and sane men, who lived in a time of universal madness, and gave their minds to the task of stemming the raging torrent. For the whole world was overrun with witches. From every town came crowds of these lost and damned souls; from every hovel peered out the cursing witch, or cried aloud for help the stricken victims. These poor and old and wretched beings, upon whose heads lighted the wrath of a world, and against whom every idle lad had a curse and a stone to fling at his will, were held capable of all but omnipotence. They could destroy the babe in the womb and make the "mother of many children childless among women;" they could kill with a look and disable with a curse; bring storms or sunshine as they listed; by their "witch-ropes," artfully woven, draw to themselves all the profit of their neighbours' barns and breweries; yet ever remained poor and miserable, glad to beg a mouthful of meat, or a can of sour milk from the hands of those whom they could ruin by half a dozen muttered words; they could take on themselves what shapes they would, and transport themselves whither they would: no bolt or bar kept them out, no distance by land or sea was too great for them to accomplish; a straw--a broomstick--the serviceable imp ever at hand--was enough for them; and with a pot of magic ointment, and a charm of spoken gibberish, they might visit the king on his throne, or the lady in her bower, to do what ill was in their hearts against them, or to gather to themselves what gain and store they would. Yet with all this power the superstitious world of the time saw nothing doubtful or illogical in the fact of their exceeding poverty, and never stayed to think that if they could transport themselves through the air to any distance they chose, they would be but slippery holding in prison, and not very likely to remain there for the pleasure of being tortured and burnt at the end. But neither reason nor logic had anything to do with the matter. The whole thing rested on fear, and that practical atheism of fear, which denies the power of God and the wholesome beauty of Nature, to exalt in their stead the supremacy of the Devil. This belief in the Devil's material presence and power over men was the dark chain that bound them all. Even the boldest opponent of the Witchcraft Delusion dared not fling it off; not the bravest man or freest thinker could shake his mind clear of this terrible trammel, this bugbear, this mere phantasm of human fear and ignorance, this ghastly lie and morbid delusion, or abandon the slavish worship of Satan for the glad freedom of God and Nature. It was much when such men as Scot,[82] and Giffard,[83] and Gaule of Staughton,[84] Sir Robert Filmer,[85] Ady,[86] Wagstaffe,[87] Webster,[88] Hutchinson,[89] and half a dozen more shining lights could bring themselves to deny the supernatural power of a few half-crazed old beggar-women, and plead for humanity and mercy towards them, instead of cruelty and condemnation; but not one dare take the wider step beyond, and deny the existence of that phantom fiend, belief in whom wrought all this misery and despair. Even the very best of the time gave in to this delusion, and discussed gravely the properties and proportions of what we know now were mere lies. "We find the illustrious author of the 'Novum Organum' sacrificing to courtly suppleness his philosophic truth, and gravely prescribing the ingredients for a witch's ointment;--Selden maintaining that crimes of the imagination may be punished with death;--The detector of Vulgar Errors, and the most humane of physicians giving the casting vote to the vacillating bigotry of Sir Matthew Hale;--Hobbes, ever sceptical, penetrating, and sagacious, yet here paralyzed and shrinking from the subject, as if afraid to touch it;--The adventurous explorer, who sounded the depths and channels of the 'Intellectual System' along all the 'wide-watered' shores of antiquity, running after witches to hear them recite the Common Prayer and the Creed, as a rational test of guilt or innocence;--The gentle spirit of Dr. Henry More, girding on the armour of persecution, and rousing itself from a Platonic reverie on the Divine Life to assume the hood and cloak of a familiar of the Inquisition;--and the patient and inquiring Boyle, putting aside for a while his searches for the grand Magisterium, and listening, as if spell-bound, with gratified attention to stories of witches at Oxford and devils at Mascon."[90] In the Church and amongst the more notoriously "religious" men of the time it was worse. In Archbishop Cranmer's 'Articles of Visitation' (1549) is this clause:--"You shall enquire whether you know of any that use Charms, Sorcery, Enchantments, Soothsaying, or any like Craft invented by the Devil;" and Bishop Jewel, preaching before Queen Elizabeth (1558), informed her how that "witches and sorcerers within these last few years are marvellously increased in your Grace's realm. Your Grace's subjects pine away even unto their death, their colour fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft; I pray God they never practise further than upon the subject.... These eyes have seen most evident and manifest marks of their wickedness." At the next Parliament the new Bill against the detestable sin of witchcraft was passed, and Strype says, partly on account of the Lord Bishop's earnest objurgation. Dalton's[91] 'Country Justice' (1655) shows to what a pass, a century later, witchcraft had come in credulous England. Truly Scot was right when he said that his greatest adversaries were "young ignorance and old customs." They have always been the greatest adversaries of all truth. Of late, thank God, the march of humanity has been steadily, if slowly, towards the daylight; but at present you and I, my reader, have to do with the most debasing superstition that ever afflicted history, in the matter of those poor wretched servants of the devil--those witches and wizards, who somehow managed to lose on all sides--to suffer in time and be ruined for eternity, and to get only ill-will and ill-usage from man and fiend alike. THE WITCH OF BERKELEY. One of our earliest English witches, so early indeed that she becomes mythical and misty and out of all possible proportion, was the celebrated Witch of Berkeley,[92] who got the reward of her sins in the middle of the ninth century, leaving behind her a tremendous lesson, by which, however, after generations did not much profit. The witch had been rich and the witch had been gay, but the moment of reckoning had to come in the morning; the feast had been noble and well enjoyed, but the terrible account had to be paid when all was over; and the poor witch found her ruddy-cheeked apple, now that the rind was off and eaten, filled with nothing but dust and ashes--which she must digest as best she may. As the moment of her death approached, she called for the monks and the nuns of the neighbouring monasteries, and sent for her children to hear her confession; and then she told them of the compact she had made, and how the Devil was to come for her body as well as her soul. "But," said she, "sew me in the hide of a stag, then place me in a stone coffin, and fasten in the covering lead and iron. Upon this place another stone, and chain the whole down with heavy chains of iron. Let fifty psalms be sung each night, and fifty masses be said by day, to break the power of the demons. If you can thus keep my body for three nights safe, on the fourth day you may bury it--the Devil will have sought and not found." The monks and the nuns did as they were desired; and, on the first night, though the demons kept up a loud howling and wailing outside the church, the priests conquered, and the old witch slept undisturbed. On the second night the demons were more fierce and clamorous, and the monks and the nuns told their beads faster and faster; but the fiends were getting more powerful as time went on, and at last broke open the gates of the monastery, in spite of prayer and bolt and bar; and two chains of the coffin burst asunder, but the middle one held firm. On the third night the fiends raged sore and wild. The monastery was shaken to its foundations, and the monks and the nuns almost forgot their paters and their aves in the uproar that drowned their voices and quailed their hearts; but they still went on, until, with an awful crash, and a yell from all the smaller demons about, a Devil, larger and more terrible than any that had come yet, stalked into the church and up to the foot of the altar, where the old woman and her coffin lay. Here he stopped, and bade the witch rise and follow him. Piteously she answered that she could not--she was kept down by the chain in the middle: but the Devil soon settled that difficulty; for he put his foot to the coffin, and broke the iron chain like a bit of burnt thread. Then off flew the covering of lead and iron, and there lay the witch, pale and horrible to see. Slowly she uprose, blue, dead, stark, as she was; and then the Devil took her by the hand, and led her to the door where stood a gigantic black horse, whose back was all studded with iron spikes, and whose nostrils, breathing fire, told of his infernal manger below. The Devil vaulted into the saddle, flung the witch on before him, and off and away they rode--the yells of the clamouring demons, and the shrieks of the tortured soul, sounding for hours, far and wide, in the ears of the monks and the nuns. So here too, in this legend, as in all the rest, the Devil is greater than God, and prayer and penitence inefficacious to redeem iniquity. EARLY HISTORIC TRIALS. Coming out from these purely legendary times, we find ourselves on the more solid ground of an actual legal record--the 'Abbreviatio Placitorum;'[93] which informs us that in the tenth year of King John's reign, "Agnes, the wife of Odo the merchant, accused Gideon of sorcery (de sorceria), and she was acquitted by the judgment of the (hot) iron." This is the earliest historic trial to be found in any legal document in England. Nothing more appears until 1324, when two Coventry men,[94] specially appointed out of twenty-seven implicated, undertook the slaying of the King, Edward II., the two Dispensers his favourites, the Prior of Coventry, his caterer and his steward, because they had oppressed the town, and dealt unrighteously with its inhabitants. These two men went to a famous necromancer then living in Coventry, called Master John of Nottingham, whom, with his servant Robert Marshall of Leicester, they engaged to perform the work required. But Robert Marshall proved faithless, and betrayed his master to the authorities; telling them how they had received a sum of money for the work in hand, with which sum of money they had bought seven pounds of wax and two yards of canvas, to make seven images--six for the six already enumerated, the seventh for one Richard de Lowe, who had done no one any harm, but on whom they wished to try the effect of the spell, as a modern anatomist would try his experiments on cats, or dogs, or rabbits. He told them how he and Master John of Nottingham had been to a ruined house under Shorteley Park, about half a league from Coventry, where they remained at work from the Monday after the Feast of Saint Nicholas to the Saturday after the Feast of Ascension, making these images of wax and canvas by which they were to bewitch their noble enemies to death. And first, to try the potency of the charm, Master John took a long leaden pin, and struck it two inches deep into the forehead of the image representing Richard de Lowe, upon which Richard was found writhing and in great pain, screaming "harrow!" and having no knowledge of any man; and so he languished for some days. Then Master John drew out the leaden pin from the brow, and struck it into the heart of the image, when immediately Richard de Lowe died, as any number of witnesses could testify. The necromancer and his man, and the twenty-seven Coventry men implicated in this bit of sorcery, were tried at common law, and acquitted for want of evidence. That same year, too, occurred one of the most picturesque trials for witchcraft known: the trial of Dame Alice Kyteler, which Mr. Wright, with so much industry and learning, has exhumed from the dusty old records where it was buried, and set out into the light of present knowledge and apprehension. But Dame Alice was an Irishwoman, and so does not rightly come into a book on English witches; else it would be a pleasant, if sad, labour to tell how she was arrested on the charge of holding nightly conferences with her spirit or familiar, Artisson, who was sometimes a cat, and sometimes a black shaggy dog, and sometimes a black man with two tall black companions, each carrying an iron rod in his hand--to which fiendish Proteus she had sacrificed, in the highway, nine red cocks, and nine peacocks' eyes; and also for having, between complines and twilight, raked all the filth of Kilkenny streets to the doors of her son-in-law William Outlawe, murmuring to herself-- "To the house of William, my sonne, Hie all the wealth of Kilkennie towne." Of how, too, she blasphemously travestied the holy sacrament, having a wafer with the Devil's name stamped on it instead of Christ's; and how she had a pipe of ointment wherewith she greased a staff "upon which she ambolled and gallopped thorough thicke and thin, when and what manner she listed." But it does not belong to my present subject: nor to tell how one of her accomplices, poor weak Petronilla de Meath, was burnt at Kilkenny, not having strength or courage to resist the monstrous confession forced upon her; but how the other, Basil, escaped, according to the natural law by which the strongest always come off the best. Perhaps the fact that Dame Alice took refuge in England may give her a slight claim to a place in these pages; but the question is doubtful, so we must let her go--as also her son-in-law, William Outlawe, whose strict imprisonment of nine weeks led to no bad result, and, let us hope, cooled his blood, which was a trifle too near to boiling point. Then we stumble over the threshold of the chamber where Friars Bacon and Bungay are sleeping, while stupid Miles is watching the Brazen Head whose brief solemn words were spoken in vain; going forward just a few paces until we come to the death-beds of Bungay and Vandermast, and Friar Bacon's clever cheating of the Devil at last. But we are still on the outskirts of legendary land, and must go on to the middle of the fourteenth century before we get a firm hold. About this time the subject of witchcraft occupied much of the attention and thought of the Church, but the priests had not yet quite closed their fingers round it; for in 1371 a man was arrested for sorcery, and "brought before the justices of the King's Bench, by whom he was acquitted for want of evidence, which shows that it was still looked upon merely as an offence against common law."[95] It was only when it became the superstition which some men are pleased to call "religion" that it got stained with its deepest dyes. Early in 1406 Henry IV. gave instructions to the Bishop of Norwich to search for the sorcerers, witches, and necromancers reported to be rather rife in that respectable diocese, and if he could not convert them from the evil of their ways, he was to bring them to speedy punishment; and in 1432 the Privy Council ordered to be seized and examined a Franciscan friar of Worcester, by name Thomas Northfield; another friar, John Ashwell; John Virley "a clerk;" and Margery Jourdemaine--the same Margery generally called the Witch of Eye, who, nine years later, was burnt at Smithfield for her complicity in the treasonable practices of Dame Eleanor of Gloucester. In 1441 Dame Eleanor herself was arrested, and "put in holt, for she was suspecte of treason;" and with her the Witch of Eye, who was burnt; and Roger, a clerk "longing to her," who was placed on a high scaffold against St. Paul's Cross on the Sunday, and there "arraied like as he should never thrive in his garnementys;" while heaped up round about were all his instruments taken with him, to be showed among the people, and create a proper fear and horror in their mind. The end of poor Roger the clerk was, that he was dragged from the Tower to Tyburn, there hanged, beheaded, and quartered; his head set on London Bridge, and his four quarters sent--one to Hereford, and one to Oxenford, another to York, and the fourth to Cambrigge. As for Dame Eleanor, that proud, dark, unscrupulous heroine of romance, every one knows the story of her disgrace and shame; how she came from London to Westminster, and walked through the streets of the city barefooted and bareheaded, carrying the waxen taper of two pounds' weight, and doing penance before all the crowd of citizens assembled to see her "on her foot and hoodles;" and how she offered up her taper on the high altar of "Poules;" and when all was done, was sent to Chester prison, "there to byde while she lyveth." After her, in 1478, comes "the high and noble princesse Jaquet," Duchess of Bedford, charged with having, by the aid of "an image of lede, made lyke a man of arms, conteyning the length of a mannes fynger, and broken in the myddes, and made fast with a wyre," turned the love of King Edward IV. from one Dame Elianor Butteler daughter of the old Earl of Shrewsbury, to whom he was affianced, unto her own child, Elizabeth Grey, sometime wife to Sir John Grey, knight; and in 1483 poor Jane Shore was bound to do penance, walking bareheaded and barefooted, clad only in her kirtle, carrying a wax taper, and acknowledging her sins, because Richard of Gloucester had a withered arm, and wanted to put a few enemies out of the way of that arm and its desires. He employed the same accusation against many of those enemies, but so patently for political motives and without even the semblance of reason, that these attainders can scarcely be set down in any manner to the charge of witchcraft. Then in 1484 came the bull of Innocent VIII., which gave authority to the inquisitors to "convict, imprison, and punish" the unfortunate servants of the Devil, who thus found themselves a mark for every one's shaft. In Henry the Eighth's time treasure-seeking was the most fashionable phase of necromancy. There was Neville of Wolsey's household, who consulted Wood--gentleman, magician, and treasure-seeker extraordinary--but only for a charm or magic ring which should bring him into favour with his prince, saying that his master the Cardinal had such an one, and he would fain participate; and he did at last get Wood to make him one that would bring him the love of women. Wood could find treasures wherever hidden, and was sure of the philosopher's stone; nay, he would "chebard" (jeopard) his life but that he could make gold as he listed, and offered to remain in prison till he had accomplished it, "twelve months on silver and twelve and a half on gold." In this same reign, too, was arrested William Stapleton for sorcery. William[96] was a monk of St. Benet in the Holm, Norfolk, and William loved not his monkish life; so he got out, seeking money to buy his dispensation. And not having the money at hand himself, nor knowing how to get it, he took to treasure-seeking as the easiest manner open to him of making a fortune. But his conjurations and his magic staff only led him to some Roman remains, and nothing more; so he borrowed of a friend instead, then settled in Norfolk, and turned to treasure-seeking again, uselessly; got into intrigues that did him no good; and had three spirits, Andrea Malchus, Inchubus, and Oberion--the last a dumb devil who would not speak, being in the service of my Lord Cardinal. In 1521 the Duke of Buckingham died on the scaffold, led into some imprudent actions by the predictions of his familiar magician, one friar Hopkins; and Hopkins, to make amends, died broken-hearted shortly after. And there was the Maid of Kent (1534), Elizabeth Barton, who had trances and gave revelations, and was on intimate terms with Mary Magdalen and the Virgin, and who was probably a "sensitive" made use of by the Catholics to try and frighten the King from his marriage with the "gospel eyes;" but poor Elizabeth Barton came to a sad pass with her revelations and trances; and Mary Magdalen, who had given her a letter written in heaven and all of gold, forgot to forewarn or shield her from her cruel and shameful end at Tyburn that cloudy fitful day of April, with the gallows standing out against the flecked sky, and the poor raving nun, half-enthusiast half-impostor, praying bareheaded at its foot--she and her accomplices waiting for the moment to die. In 1541 we find a nobler name on the scaffold--Lord Hungerford--"beheaded for procuring certain persons to conspire that they might know how long Henry VIII. would live;" and that same year an Act was passed against false prophecies, and another against conjurations, witchcraft, and sorcery, making it felony without benefit of clergy. But six years later Edward VI. abrogated that statute; not for any tenderness to witches, but because with it was bound up a prohibition against pulling down crosses. In 1549 Ket's rebellion was troublesome; its vigour due partly to the old prophecy repeated through the plains of Norfolk-- "Hob, Dic, and Hic, with Clubs and clouted Shoon, Shall fill up Duffin-dale with slaughtered Bodies soon." And then we come to nothing more until 1559, when Elizabeth "renewed the same article of inquiry for sorcerers," but punishing the first conviction only with the pillory. The following year eight men were taken up for conjurations and sorcery, and tried at Westminster, where they had to purge themselves by confession, penitence, and a repudiating oath. In 1562 the Earl and Countess of Lennox, Anthony Pool, Anthony Fortescue, and some others, were condemned for treason and meddling with sorcerers; though, indeed, Elizabeth herself was not free from either the superstition or its practice; for did she not patronize Dr. Dee and his "skryer" John Kelly, with his ranting about Madimi in her gown of "changeable sey," and all the other spirits who came in and out of the "show-stone," and talked just the same kind of rubbish as spirits talk now in modern circles? But the poor "figure-flinger, with his tin pictures," was a sorcerer not to be protected, so got tried and condemned--poor figure-flinger! In 1562, the year of Lady Lennox's business, a new Act against witchcraft was passed; and in 1589 one Mrs. Deir practised conjuration against the Queen, for which she was tried, but acquitted for want of evidence; but the Queen had excessive anguish in her teeth that year, by night and by day. When Ferdinand Earl of Derby died, about this time, of perpetual and unceasing sickness, a waxen image was found in his chamber stuffed with hair the exact colour of his; which sufficiently accounted for his illness and the mysterious manner of his death, though a Sadducee and sceptic might have whispered of poison, or a physician have spoken of cholera; from which disease indeed, by the minute symptoms so carefully detailed, the poor earl's death seems to have been--if not from poison, which might have produced the same effects. Still, the accusation of sorcery was so convenient--such a cloak for viler sins! The latter half of Elizabeth's reign was disgraced by many witch persecutions, for the subject was beginning to attract painful notice now; and, though it was not till James I. had set the smouldering fragments all a-blaze that the worst of the evils were done, still enough was doing now for the philosopher to deplore and the humanitarian to lament. In 1575 many were hanged at Barking; in 1579 three were executed at Chelmsford, four at Abingdon, and two at Cambridge. In 1582 thirteen at St. Osith's, the evidence against one being that she had been heard to talk to something when alone in her house; while of the other, a woman swore that she looked through her window one day, when she was out, and there "espied a spirite to looke out of a potcharde from under a clothe, the nose thereof being browne like unto a ferret." In 1585 one was hanged at Tyburn and one at Stanmore; 1589 saw three sent into eternity at Chelmsford; in 1593 we have the witches of Warbois; and two years later (1595) three at Barnet and Brainford; in 1597 several at Derby and Stafford; so that by degrees the thing came to be a notorious matter of social life; and the poor and the aged and the disliked lived in fear and peril, daily increasing. At this time, too, possessions were many and ghosts walked abroad without let or hindrance. Richard Lee saw one at Canterbury (1575), and Master Gaymore and others saw another at Rye two years after. "But," says Reginald Scot, "certainely some one knave in a white sheet hath cosened and abused many thousands that way, specially when Robin Goodfellow kept such a coile in the Country. For you shall understand that these bugs specially are spied and feared of sicke folke, children, women, and cowards, which, through weaknesse of minde and body, are shaken with vain dreames and continuall fear. The Scythians, being a stout and a warlike nation, as divers writers report, never see any vaine sights, or spirits. It is a common saying, a Lion feareth no bugs. But in our childhood our mothers' maids have so terrified us with an ugly devil having hornes on his head, fire in his mouth, and a taile at his back, eyes like a bason, fanges like a dog, clawes like a beare, a skinne like a Niger, and a voice roring like a Lion, whereby we start and are afraid when we hear one cry Bough; they have so fraied us with bullbeggars, spirits, urchens, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, pans, fauns, sylens (syrens?), kit with the cansticke, tritons, centaures, dwarfes, giants, imps, calcats, conjurors, nymphes, changelings, incubus, Robin Goodfellow, the spoorn, the mare, the man in the oke, the hell-waine, the firedrake, the puckle, Tom thombe, hob-gobbin, Tom tumbler, boneles, and such other bugs, that we are afraid of our own shadowes; insomuch as some never fear the devil, but in a dark night; and then a polled sheep is a perillous beast, and many times is taken for our father's soul, specially in a churchyard, where a right hardy man heretofore scant durst passe by night, but his haire would stand upright. For right grave writers report, that spirits most often and specially take the shape of women, appearing to monks, &c., and of beasts, dogs, swine, horses, goats, cats, haires, of fowles, as crowes, night owles and shreek owles; but they delight most in the likenesse of snakes and dragons." All of which "wretched and cowardly infidelity" was rampant in England when good Queen Bess ruled the land--rampant doubly, so that there was no holding in of this furious madness after James I. had got his foot in the stirrup, and was riding a race neck and neck with the Devil. But I must turn back a few years, and tell of THE AFFLICTIONS OF ALEXANDER NYNDGE, a precious babe of grace snatched from destruction. They are to be found in 'A Booke declaring the fearfull vexation of one Alexander Nyndge, Beynge moste Horriblye tormented wyth an euyll spirit, the xx. daie of Januarie. In the yere of our Lorde 1573, at Lyeringswell in Suffolke;' and this book sets forth the details of the various fits which Alexander Nyndge indulged in, for the purpose, as it seems, of enabling his brother Edward to prove his power of exorcism. His first fit began one evening at seven--his father, mother, brothers, and the residue of the household being present; his chest and body swelled, his eyes stared wildly as if starting from their sockets, his back bent inward: the household was disturbed and sore affrighted, but brother Edward had courage enough to say that it was an evil spirit, and undertook to exorcise it. So he charged the foul fiend to come out of him, and the countenance of his brother became more sad and fearful than it was before. Edward was not dismayed but returned to the conflict full of confidence, not giving in even when Alexander and the devil had a wrestle together; or rather when the devil within him seemed as if he would have torn him to pieces, so great was his rage and malice. After some time of this kind of work, Edward got the devil to confess to one or two little matters. In the first place his name was Aubon, and he came last from Ireland; he had come for Alexander's soul, which his brother was not disposed to give up; and by a strange slip of the tongue he called Christ _his_ Redeemer: but Edward rebuked him, as became a learned M.A., reminding him that He was Alexander's Redeemer in truth, but not his, the foul fiend's. Even this palpable blunder did not enlighten the Nyndge household as to whose was really the "hollow ghostly" voice proceeding out of Alexander's chest. At last, when Edward had tired him very much, and powerfully shaken him, he said, gruffly, "Bawe wawe, bawe wawe!" and Alexander was transformed, "much like a picture in a play," while a terrible roaring voice sounded "Hellsownd." Then they opened the windows to allow the foul spirit to escape; and in two minutes Alexander leaped up joyfully, crying, "He is gone! he is gone!" After this he had a second, and then a third, attack; but his brother, praying in his right ear, comforted him and finally cured him, for he was never after tormented. Luckily he had not fixed upon any unhappy old woman as the cause of his disorder, so it passed for a case of simple "possession," which prayer and supplication had overcome. ADE DAVIE'S MOURNING.[97] Ade Davie, wife of Simon Davie husbandman, had a wiser man for her husband, simple and unlearned as he was, than had many a wretched creature for her judge. Ade suddenly became sad and pensive as she never had been in times past. Her husband did his best to cheer her, but Ade still continued sorrowful; when, at last her burden grew heavier than she could bear, falling down at Simon's feet she besought him to forgive her, for that she had grievously offended both God and him. "Her poor husband being abashed at this her behaviour, comforted her as he could; asking her the cause of her trouble and greefe; who told him that she had, contrary to God's law, and to the offence of all good Christians, to the injury of him, and specially to the losse of her own soul, bargained and given her soul to the devill, to be delivered unto him within short space. Whereunto her husband answered, saying, 'Wife, be of good cheer, this thy bargain is void and of none effect; for thou hast sold that which is none of thine to sell: sith it belongeth to Christ, who hath bought it, and dearly paid for it, even with his blood, which he shed upon the crosse; so as the devil hath no interest in thee.' After this, with like submission, teares, and penitence, she said unto him, 'Oh, husband, I have yet committed another fault, and done you more injury; for I have bewitched you and four children.' 'Be content,' quoth he, 'by the grace of God, Jesus Christ can unwitch us; for none evill can happen to them that fear God.'" This fresh and pure idyl comes to us with a sweet and wholesome savour, in the midst of the foul quagmires of superstition where it stands; and that poor husbandman's simple faith in God's goodness and his wife's virtue is more touching than many a grand heroic deed which has the suffrages of all history to float it through the life of the world. Simon Davie was an unlettered man, but he was strong-hearted and believing, and, thinking that earnest prayer might comfort his wife, when the time approached for the Devil to come and close his bargain, knelt down by her and prayed, she joining with him fervently. Then they heard a low rumbling noise below which made the windows shake, and which convinced the poor wife that it was the Devil trying to take possession of her soul, but barred out from the chamber by the fervent prayers aforesaid. In the morning it was found that the noise came from a dog which had devoured a sheep that was newly flayed and hung against the wall; and in due time, Ade Davie recovering her reason--for she was crazed, and took every fire to be the fire lighted to burn her for witchcraft--came to the knowledge that she had never sold her soul to the Devil at all, and had never bewitched husband or children, but had always been a faithful wife and fond mother--afflicted with a light brain and nervous imagination. THE POSSESSION OF MILDRED NORRINGTON.[98] Mildred, the "base daughter" of Alice Norrington, being seventeen years of age, was likewise possessed of the Devil, in much the same way as Alexander Nyndge had been. She lived as servant with William Spooner of Westwell, in the county of Kent, and her case attracted great attention. All the divines of the neighbourhood assembled at Spooner's house on the 13th of October, 1574, to endeavour to cast out the Devil by such means of prayer and exorcism as they had at their command. Powerfully did they pray; mightily roared the Devil; "And tho' we did command him many times, in the Name of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ, and in his mighty Power to speak, yet he would not, until he had gone through all his Delays, as roaring, crying, striving, and gnashing of teeth, and otherwise, with mowing and other terrible Countenances, and was so strong in the Maid that four men could scarce hold her down." This continued for about two hours, and then he spoke out, but very strangely, crying, "He comes, he comes," and "He goes, he goes." When charged to tell the exorcists who had sent him, he said, "I lay in her way like a Log, and I made her run like Fire; but I could not hurt her." "And why so?" said we. "Because God kept her," said he. When asked when he came to her, he said, "At night, in her bed." And when charged to tell them his name, he said, "The Devil, the Devil." But being still more powerfully exhorted, he roared and cried as before, and spake terrible words: "I will kill her; I will kill her; I will tear her in pieces; I will kill you all!" Asked again, and conjured so that he could not escape, he was forced to confess that his name was Satan, and Little Devil, and Partner, and that old Alice had sent him--old Alice in Westwell Street, with whom he had lived these twenty years shut up in two bottles. "Where be they?" said we. "In the back side of her house," said he. "In what place?" said we. "Under the wall," said he. The other was at Kennington, in the ground. Then we asked him what old Alice had given him. He said, "Her will, her will." "What did she bid thee do?" said we. "Kill her maid," he said, because she did not love her. He then said that he had been to the vicarage loft in the likeness of two birds, and that old Alice had sent him and his servant (another devil) to kill those whom she loved not. "How many hast thou killed for her?" said we. "Three," said he. "Who are they?" said we. "A man and his child," said he. "What were their names?" said we. "The child's name was Edward," said he. "What more than Edward?" said we. "Edward Ager," said he. "What more?" said we. "Richard Ager," said he. "Where dwelt the man and the child?" said we. "At Dig, at Dig," said he. This Richard Ager was a gentleman of forty pounds' land by the year; a very honest man, but would often say he was bewitched, and languished long ere he died. The Devil--or Mildred for him--said that he had also killed Wotton's wife, and that he used to fetch old Alice meat and drink and corn, and that he had been at many houses (named) doing her wicked will. Then he was adjured so that he could not resist, when he cried out that he would go, he would go, and so he departed. Then said the maid, "He is gone. Lord have mercy on me! for he would have killed me!" So those ministers and neighbours present all kneeled down and thanked God for Mildred's deliverance; and she kept her countenance, and did not betray herself. But a short time after, the "bruit of her divinity and miraculous trances" spreading far and wide, Mr. Thomas Wotton, "a man of great Worship and Wisdom, and for deciding and ordering of Matters, of rare and singular Dexterity," got to the true understanding of the case, when "the Fraud was found, and the cozenage confessed, and she received condign Punishment." After her trial, and when she knew the worst, she "showed her Feats, Illusions, and Trances, with the Residue of all her miraculous Works in the Presence of divers Gentlemen of great Worship and Credit at Boston-Malherb, in the House of the said Mr. Wotton." "Now compare this wench with the witch of Endor, and you shall see that both the cozenages may be done by one art," says Reginald Scot. MISCELLANEOUS. It was in this same year that Agnes Brigs and Rachel Pindar had to do penance at St. Paul's Cross, in London,[99] having been convicted of cheat and imposture in pretending to vomit pins and straws and old "clouts," and other such impossibilities; and for counterfeiting possession by the Devil, which the philosophers of the time thought was no subject to trifle with, or affect in any manner whatsoever. And then, a few years later, a young Dutchman living at Maidstone was dispossessed of ten devils, and the mayor of the town got to subscribe his name to the account, which turned out afterwards to be nothing but fraud and lies. In 1579[100] four witches were hung up together, the chief accusation against one of them, Mother Still, being, "that she did kill one Saddocke with a touch on the shoulder, for not keeping promise with her for an old cloak, to make her a safeguard; and that she was hanged for her labour:" and another, Ellein Smith, was executed at Maldon,[101] on the testimony of her little son of eight, who accused her of having three spirits--Great Dick in a wicker bottle, Little Dick in a leathern bottle, and Willet kept in a woolpack. Upon which the house was commanded to be searched, and "the bottles and packe were found, but the spirites were banished awaie." At the Rochester assizes, held 1591, Margaret Simons,[102] the wife of John Simons, of Brenchley in Kent, was arraigned for witchcraft, on the charge of bewitching the son of John Ferrall the vicar. An ill-conditioned young cub was he, and prentice to Robert Scotchford, clothier; and the father himself seems to have been little better than his son--making a bad pair between them for the teacher and "pattern child" of Brenchley. There had long been ill blood between Mr. John Ferrall, vicar, and Margaret Simons; and one day it came somewhat to a head; for, when the boy was passing Margaret's house on his way home, her little dog jumped out at him and barked. "Which thing the boy taking in evil part," says Reginald Scot, in his quaint, blunt, incisive way, "drew his knife, and pursued him therewith even to her door; whom she rebuked with some such words as the boy disclaimed, and yet neverthelesse would not be perswaded to depart in a long time." The consequence of the fray was, that the boy in five or six days' time fell dangerously ill. Then the vicar, "who thought himself so privileged as he little mistrusted that God would visit his children with sicknesse," declared that his son was bewitched by Margaret Simons, who also had done the like evil to himself; for whenever he wished to read the service with special emphasis and care his voice always failed him, so that his congregation could scarce hear him at all. Margaret made answer that his voice was always hoarse and low, and particularly when he strained himself to speak loudest then it ever failed him: but there was no witchcraft in the case, for all that Mr. Ferrall had procured the health of his son at the hands of another witch, who had taken off the charm and effected a perfect cure. Margaret had a very narrow escape for her life. The whole of the jury, save one man, were against her, but she had in her favour the fact that the vicar was very unpopular, and, justly or unjustly, lay under some odious charges; so, what with the sane juryman's exertions in her favour, and Mr. Ferrall's small hold on the interest and affections of his parishioners, she was brought in Not Guilty, and the hangman's cord fell slack from his greedy grasp. It must have been somewhere about this time that the execution mentioned by Dr. More in his 'Antidote to Atheism' took place, when a mother and daughter were hanged at Cambridge for witchcraft and service to the Devil. When the mother was called on to renounce and forsake her old master, she refused to do so, saying that he had been faithful to her for fourscore years, and she would not be faithless now to him. And in that obstinacy she died, with a courage and constancy worthy a better cause. The daughter was of a contrary mind. She avowed her misdeeds, and asked for pardon and grace, was penitent, and faithful, and earnest in prayer. All of which the Devil took, as may be imagined, very heinously; and showed his displeasure by sending, in the midst of a dead calm, so sudden and violent a blast of wind, that the mother's body was driven sharply against the ladder, and was like to have overturned it, while the gallows shook with such force that the men standing round were fain to hold the posts, for fear of all being flung to the ground. It was somewhat before this, that at Town Malling, in Kent, one of Queen Mary's Justices, "on the complaint of many wise men, and a few foolish boyes, laid an archer by the heels because he shot so near the white at buts. For he was informed and perswaded that the poor man played with a fly, otherwise called a devill or familiar. And because he was certified that the archer aforesaid shot better than the common shooting, which he before had heard of or seen, he conceived it could not be in God's name, but by inchantment, whereby the archer (as he supposed, by abusing the Queen's liege people) gained some one day two or three shillings, to the detriment of the commonwealth, and to his owne inriching. And therefore the archer was severely punished, to the great encouragement of archers, and to the wise example of justice, but specially to the overthrow of witchcraft." Which quaint little anecdote of Scot's is worth a whole handful of jewels more richly set. We are coming now to one of the most curious of the older trials, that of-- THE WITCHES OF S. OSEES, held before Brian Darcey. It is contained in a rare and beautiful little black-letter book,[103] and is spoken of by Scot in his 'Discovery' without much sparing of ridicule. It opens thus: "If there hath bin at anytime (Right Honorable) any meanes used to appease the wrath of God, to obtaine his blessing, to terrifie secreete offenders by open transgressors punishments, to withdraw honest natures from the corruption of euill company, to diminish the great multitude of wicked people, to increase the small number of virtuous persons, and to reforme all the detestable abuses which the peruerse witte and will of man doth dayly devise, this doubtlesse is no lesse necessarye than the best, that Sorcerers, Wizzardes, or rather Dizzardes, Witches, Wise women (for so they will be named), are rygorously punished. Rygorously? sayd I; why it is too milde and gentle a tearme for such a mercilesse generation: I should rather have sayd most cruelly execueted; for that no punishment can be thought vpon, be it in neuer so high a degree of torment, which may be deemed sufficient for such a deuilishe and damnable practise." These were the sentiments of W. W., as propounded to his patron "the right honourable and his singular good lorde, the Lord Darcey," to whom he inscribes his little book. For Brian Darcy, evidently a relation, had lately put in practice the views and opinions of a worthy citizen and zealous Christian touching witches, at the great holocaust offered up at "S. Osees" (St. Osyth), in the 23rd year of Queen Elizabeth's reign (1582): and witch hatred therefore ran in the blood. The first complainant in this process was Grace Thurlowe, wife of John Thurlowe, who came to make her moan about the evil practices of her neighbour, Ursley Kempe, alias Grey. About twelve months since, said Grace, her son Davy was strangely taken and greatly tormented. Ursley came, like the rest of the neighbours, to see him; but, unlike the rest, she thrice took the child by the hand, saying each time, "A good childe, howe are thou loden:" going out of the house and returning between each phrase, which was evidently a charm, and no holy way of pitying a sick child. After this she said to Grace, "I warrant thee, I, thy childe shall doe well enough;" and sure it was so, for that night the child slept well, and after another such cantrip visit from Ursula, mended entirely. This was not much to complain to the magistrates about, but Grace had another and more grievous count. After this evident cure of her son she was delivered of a woman child, and, ungratefully enough, asked not Ursley to be her nurse; whereat sprang up a quarrel, and the child in consequence fell out of the cradle and brake its neck; not because it was clumsily laid, or carelessly rocked, but because Ursley was a witch and had a grievance against Grace. And to this mischance, when she heard of it, all that the old dame said, was, "It maketh no matter; for she might have suffered me to have the keeping and nursing of it." Then a trouble and a "fratch" ensued, and Ursley threatened Grace with lameness, whereat Grace answered, "Take heed, Ursley, thou hast a naughtie name;" but in spite of her warning the old witch did her work, so that Grace was taken with such lameness that she had to go upon her hands and knees. And thus it continued; whenever she began to amend her child fell ill, and when her child was well she was cast down lame and helpless. Then Annis Letherdall had her word. Annis and Ursley had a little matter of commerce between them, but Annis failed the suspected woman, "knowing her to be a naughtie beast." So Ursley in revenge bewitched Annis's child, and that so severely that Mother Ratcliffe, a skilful woman, doubted if she could do it any good; yet for all that she ministered unto it kindly. And, as a proof that it was Ursley, and only Ursley, who had so harmed the babe, and that its sad state came in no wise from bad food, bad nursing, and filthy habits, the little creature of only one year old, when it was carried past her house, cried "wo, wo," and pointed with its finger windowwards. What evidence could be stronger? So then, to clinch the matter and strike fairly home, the magistrate examined Thomas Rabbet, Ursley's "base son," a child of barely eight years of age, and got his version of the mother's life. The little fellow's testimony went chiefly on the imps at home. His mother had four, he said--Tyffin, like a white lamb; Titty, a little grey cat; Pygine, a black toad; and Jacke, a black cat; and she fed them, at times with wholesome milk and bread, and at times they sucked blood from her body. He further said that his mother had bewitched Johnson and his wife to death, and that she had given her imps to Godmother Newman, who put them into an earthen pot which she hid under her apron, and so carried them away. One Laurence then said that she had bewitched his wife, so that when "she lay a drawing home, and continued so a day and a night, all the partes of her body were colde like a dead creatures, and yet at her mouth did appeare her breath to goe and come." Thus she lingered, said her husband, until Ursley came in unbidden, turned down the bed-clothes, and took her by the arm, when immediately she gasped and died. Ursley at first would confess nothing beyond having had, ten or eleven years ago, a lameness in her bones, for the cure of which she went to Cook's wife of Wesley, who told her that she was bewitched, and taught her a charm by which she might unwitch herself and cure her bones; which charm quite answered its purpose, and had never failed her with her neighbours; all else she denied. But upon Brian Darcy[104] "promising to the saide Ursley that if she would deale plainely and confesse the truth that she should have fauour, so by giving her faire speeche she confessed as followeth." "Bursting out with weeping" and falling on her knees, she said, yes, she had the four imps her son had told of, and that two of them, Titty and Jack, were "hees," whose office was to punish and kill unto death; and two, Tiffin and Piggin, were "shees," who punished with lameness and bodily harm only, and destroyed goods and cattle. And she confessed that she had killed all the folk charged against her; her brother-in-law's wife, and Grace Thurlowe's cradled child, making it to fall out of its cradle and break its neck solely by her enchantments; and that she had bewitched that little babe of Annis Letherdall's, and Laurence's wife, and, in fact, that she had done all the mischief with which she was charged. Then, not liking to be alone, she said that Mother Bennet had two imps; the one a black dog, called Suckin, the other red like a lion, Lyerd: and that Hunt's wife had a spirit too, for one evening she peeped in at her window when she was from home, and saw it look out from a potcharde from under a bundle of cloth, and that it had a brown nose like a ferret. And she told other lies of her neighbours, saying that her spirit Tiffin informed her of all these things; and Brian Darcy sat there, gloating over these maniacal revelations. But in spite of his soft words and fair promises, Ursley Kempe was condemned, and executed when her turn came. Joan Pechey, widow, was then brought forward; and Ales Hunt, herself an accused witch, deposed against her that she was angry because, at a distribution of bread made by the said Brian Darcy, she had gotten a loaf which was too hard baked for her; whereat in a pet she said it might have been given to some one younger, and not to her, with no teeth to eat through the crust. And then Ales watched her home, and saw her go in alone to her own house where no human soul was; but there she heard her say, as to some one, "Yea, are you so sawsie; are yee so bolde; you were not best to bee so bolde with mee: For if you will not bee ruled, you shall have Symonds sawse; yea, saide the saide Joan, I perceive if I doe give you an inch you will take an ell." All of which talk Ales Hunt found was to no Christian creature, but to her foul and wicked imps. The which testimony her sister, Margerie Sammon, confirmed, saying that old Joan was as clever as their own mother (a noted witch, one Mother Barnes), or any one else in S. Osees skilled in sorcery and magic. Another examinate then came forward with a story of a bewitched cow unbewitched by a fire lighted around it: which, however, does not apparently touch any of the accused. And then the accuser, Ales Hunt, was made to take the place of the accused, and listen to the catalogue of her own sins. The chief witness against her was her little daughter-in-law (step-child?) Febey, of the age of eight or thereabouts, who deposed to her having two little things like horses, the one white the other black, which she kept by her bedside in a little low earthern pot with wool, colour white and black, and which she fed with milk out of a black "trening" dish. When the Commissioners went to search the place they found indeed the board which Phoebe said was used to cover them, and she pointed out the trening dish whence they were fed; but the little things like horses were gone; when Phoebe said they had been sent to Hayward of Frowicke. After a time Alice Hunt was brought to confess not only to two, but four, imps; two like colts, black and white, called Jack and Robbin; and two like toads, Tom and Robbyn. Mother Barnes, her mother, gave them to her, she said, when she died; and she gave her sister, Margerie Sammon, two also. When Margerie was confronted with Alice and heard what she had deposed, she got very angry and denied the whole tale, saying: "I defie thee, though thou art my sister," saying that she had never any imps given to her on her mother's death-bed, or at any other time. But Alice took her aside and whispered something in her ear; after which Margerie, "with great submission" and many tears, confessed that she had in truth these two imps, given to her by her mother as her sister had said, and that she had carried them away that same evening in a wicker basket filled with black and white wool. Her mother had said that if she did not like to keep them old Joan Pechey would be glad of them; but she did not part with them just then; and that she was to feed them on bread and milk, otherwise they would suck her blood. Their names were Tom and Robbin, and last evening she took them away--being perhaps afraid to keep them longer, now that the scent was warm--and went into Read's ground, where she bade them "go." Immediately they skipped out of the wicker basket toward a barred gate going into Howe Lane, to Mother Peachey's house, whereat she, Margerie, said, "All evill goe with you, and the Lorde in heaven blesse mee from yee." All of which Mother Peachy, who seems to have been an upright, high-spirited old dame, stoutly denied. She was threescore year and upwards, she said, and had lived forty years in S. Osees in honour and good repute. She knew Mother Barnes, yet knew her for no witch, nor ever heard her to be so accompted, or to have skill in any witchery; nor was she at her death-bed; nor knew she of her imps. For her own part she denied that she had any "puppettes, spyrites, or maumettes;" or had had any spirits conveyed to her by Margery Sammon, or since Mother Barnes's death. She denied all that Ales Hunt had said, as, "Yea, art thou so bolde," &c., she denied that she had had any hand in Johnson's death, as she had been accused of, but when he died said only he was a very honest man: she also denied some very shocking passages with her son, which he, however, had been brought to confess; and when questioned more closely concerning her imps, said that she had only a kitten and a dog at home. When asked of what colour were they? she answered tartly, "Ye may goe and see." Ales Newman was also condemned and executed; being obstinate to the last; denying the four counts with which she was charged, viz. her imps, the slaughter of her own husband, of John Johnson, and of his wife. But William Hoke deposed that on his death-bed her husband had been perpetually crying out against her, saying, "Dost thou not see--dost thou not see?" meaning the imp with which she tormented him, and which he strove vainly to beat away. Seeing her obstinacy, Brian Darcy told her that he would sever her and her spirits asunder; to which she answered quickly, "Nay," sayth shee, "that shal ye not, for I will carry them with mee." Then seeing that they took note of her words, she added, "if I have any." The admission was enough, and she was hanged. Elizabeth Bennet denied that she had had any hand in the bewitching to death Johnson or his wife, saying that the aforesaid Ales had done it all. But William Bonner had his stone ready for her on the other side, accusing her of bewitching his wife, for "shee, being sickely and sore troubled, the said Elizabeth vsed speeches unto her, saying, a goode woman howe art thou loden, and then clasped her in her armes and kissed her. Wherevpon presently after her vpper Lippe swelled and was very bigge, and her eyes much sunked into her head, and shee hath lain sithence in a very strange case." Yet these two women were familiar friends, and "did accompanie much together;" which shows that friendship was as dangerous as enmity in those mad times when the swelling of a lip, or the familiarity of a house pet, could bring the best of a district to the gallows. And then Ursley Kemp's testimony was remembered against Elizabeth, and the mysteries of Suckin and Liard sought to be fathomed. Elizabeth at the first was obdurate and would confess to nothing beyond that she had certainly a pot, but no wool therein, and no imps to lay on it; but at last she too was persuaded by Brian Darcy's fine false words; so falling on her knees, "distilling tears," she made her public moan. William Byet and she dwelt as neighbours together, she said, living as neighbours should, well and easily; but latterly they had fallen out, because William called her "old Trot" and "old witch," and "did ban and curse her and her cattle." So she replied with calling him "knave," saying, "Wind it vp Byet, for it will light vpon yourself." And Byet's beast died forthwith. Then Byet's wife beat her swine with great "gybels," and made them sick; and once she ran a pitchfork through the side of one so that it was dead, and when the butcher who bought it came to dress and cut it up, it proved "a messel," so she had no money for it, for the butcher would not keep it and she was forced to take it back again. So far was only the ordinary quarrelling of ill-tempered country folk, and nothing very damaging to confess to; but now Brian Darcy's fair words drew from her all about her imp Suckin, a he and like a black dog, and Lierd, a she and like a hare or a lion, and red. Suckin had first come to her a long time ago, as she was returning home from the mill; he held her by the coats, she being amazed, but vanished when she prayed. Again, when nigh hand at home, he tugged at her coats as before, yet vanished when she prayed. The next day he came with Lierd, and asked "why she was so snappish yesterday?" and thus they were for ever troubling and visiting her, till at last she yielded to their solicitations, and set them to the work she was accused of. This was the second instance in which Brian Darcy found that old Ursley and her imp Tiffin had spoken the truth. Ales Manfielde bewitched John Sayer's cart, keeping it standing stock still for above an hour, because she was offended that he would not let his thatcher cover in an oven for her; and she lamed all Joan Chester's cattle, because Joan refused her some curds. So Ales Manfielde was condemned and executed; but not before she made her confession. She said that Margaret Greuell (Greville), twelve years since, gave her four imps--Robin, Jack, William, and Puppet or Mamet: they were like black cats, two shes and two hes, and were put into a box with some wool, and placed on a shelf by her bed. But Margaret denied it all, even when Ales was confronted with her; denied too that queer tale of how she had bewitched John Carter's two brewings, so that half a seame had to go to the swill tub, all because he would not give her Godesgood. The brewing was only unbewitched when John's son, a tall lusty man of thirty-six, managed to stick his arrow in the brewing-vat. He had shot twice before, but missed, though he was a good shot and stood close to the vat--which was evident sorcery, somehow. Margaret denied also that she had bewitched Nicholas Strickland's wife so that she could make no butter, because Nicholas, who was a butcher, refused her a neck of mutton. But in spite of all her denials, she, the hale woman of fifty-four, was condemned to remain in prison, heaven knows for how long; escaping the gallows by a greater miracle than any recorded of herself. Elizabeth Ewstace, a year younger than Margaret Greville, was told that she had bewitched Robert Sanneuer, drawing his mouth all awry so that it could be got into its place again only with a sharp blow; and that she had killed his brother Crosse, three years ago, and bewitched his wife when with child and quite lusty and well, so that she had a most strange sickness, and the child died soon after its birth; that she made his cows give blood instead of milk; and caused his hogs "to skip and leap about the yarde in a straunge sorte," because of the small bickerings to which S. Osees seemed specially subject. And she hurt all Felice Okey's geese, and in particular her favourite goose, because she, Felice, had turned hers out of her yard; all of which Elizabeth Eustace denied to the face of Alice Mansfield and her other accusers. And as, on being searched, she was found to have no "bigges" or witch marks, she was mercifully kept in prison--for the time. And Annis Glascocke, wife of John the sawyer, got into the trouble that had its end only in the hangman's cord, because Mychel the shoemaker charged her with being a "naughtie woman," and because Ursley Kemp, informed by Tiffin, accused her of sundry things about as true as all the rest of the story. Being found well supplied with witch marks, her denial was not allowed to go for much; whereupon she abused Ursley, and said she had bewitched her and made her like to herself, she, Annis Glascocke, all the time ignorant and innocent of her devilish arts. Then came the sad story of Henry Celles (Selles) and his wife Cysley. They were said to have killed Richard Ross's horses, because Richard had refused Cicely a bushel of malt which she had come for, bringing a poke to put it in. And to make the accusation stronger, little Henry their son, only nine years old, affirmed that at Candlemas last past about midnight there came to his brother John a spirit, which took him by the left leg and also by the little toe, and which was like his little sister, only that it was black. At which his brother cried out, "'Father, father, come helpe me; there is a black thing that hath me by the legge as big as my sister;' whereat his father saide to his mother, 'Why thou ----, cannot you keepe your imps from my children?' Whereat she presently called it away from her sonne, saying, 'Come away, come away.' At which speeche it did depart." He further said that his mother fed her imps daily with milk out of a black dish; that their names were Hercules, Sotheons, or Jacke which was black and a he, and Mercurie, white and a she; that their eyes were like goose eyes; and that they lay on some wool under a stack of broom at the old crab-tree root. And also that his mother had sent Hercules to Ross for revenge; at which his father, when he heard of it, said, "She was a trim fool." As she very likely was; but for other things than sending imps to her neighbours. John, a little fellow of six and three-quarters, confirmed his brother's deposition, adding to it that "the imps had eyes as big as himself," and that his mother fed them with thin milk out of a spoon. He gave the names of other people whom his mother had bewitched, and he showed his scarred leg, and the nail of the little toe still imperfect. And Joan Smith deposed that one day, as she was making ready to go to church, holding her babe in her arms, her mother, one Redworth's wife, and Cicely were all at her door, ready to draw the latch as she came out, "whereat the grandmother to the childe tooke it by the hand, and shoke it, saying, 'A mother pugs, art thou coming to church?' and Redworth's wife, looking on it, said, 'Here is a iolie and likely childe--God blesse it.' After which speeches, Selles his wife saide, 'shee hath neuer the more children for that, but a little babe to play withall for a time.' And she saith within a short time after her said childe sickened and died. 'But,' she saith"--her womanly heart carrying it over her superstition--"'that her conscience will not serve her to charge the said Cysley or her husband to be the causers of any suche matter, but prayeth God to forgive if they haue dealt in any such sorte.'" Then Thomas Death accused Cicely Selles and one Barker's wife of bewitching George Battell's wife and his own daughter Mary, who got such good of the witches by a wise man's ministering that she saw her tormentor standing in bodily shape before her; and Ales Baxter was pricked to the heart by a white imp like a cat which then vanished into the bushes close by, and so badly holden that she could neither go nor stand nor speak, and did not know her own master when he came by, but was forced to be taken home in a chair by two men. All of which Henry Selles and his wife Cicely denied; specially the story of the imp and the children, who, if there were imps at all in the matter, were the only imps afloat. But denial did them no good, for Cicely had witch marks, so was condemned, and the two little lying varlets made themselves orphans and homeless. A very crowd of witnesses came to testify against Annis Herd. Of some she had bewitched the cream, of others the milk; of some the cows or pigs or wives; but all this was mere floating accusation until the Commissioners got hold of her little "base" daughter of seven, who gave them plenty of information. Asked if her mother had imps, she said "Yes;" in one box she had six "auices," or blackbirds, and in another box six like cows as big as rats, with short horns, lying in the boxes on white or black wool. And she said that her mother gave her one of the cow imps, a black and white one, called Crowe; and to her little brother one, red and white, called Donne; and that she fed the avices or blackbirds with wheat and barley and oats and bread and cheese; giving to the cows wheat straw, bean straw, oat straw, or hay, with water or beer to drink. When her brother sees these blackbird imps come a "tuitting and tetling" about him, added the little base daughter, he takes and puts them in the boxes. Some of them sucked on her mother's hands, and some on her brother's legs, and when they showed her the marks she pointed them out one by one, saying, "Here sucked aves and here blackbird." She was sharp enough though to shield herself, young as she was; for when asked why one of her hands had the same kind of mark, she said it was burnt. Anis Herd was kept in prison, but not hanged just then, for she could not, luckily for her, be got to confess to anything very damaging. She said that she was certainly angry with the churl Cartwright for taking away a bough which she had laid over a flow in the highway, but she had not bewitched him or his; and that she had, truly, kept Lane's wife's dish fourteen days or more, as Lane's wife had said, and that Lane's wife had sent for the twopence which she, Anis, owed her, and that she had grumbled with her--also with this neighbour and that neighbour, according to the habits of S. Osees--but that she had bewitched none of them. And she denied the avices and the blackbirds and all and sundry of the stories of Crow or Dun; which, indeed, with some others spoken of by the children, seem to have been, _if existing at all_, toys or treasures kept hoarded from them, to which they added these magical and absurd conditions as their imaginations taught them or their examiners prompted. Joan Robinson, another S. Osees witch, was to blame for various acts of sorcery and witchcraft--hurting one woman's brood goose, and another's litter of pigs, drowning cows, laming ambling mares, and the rest of the witch's playful practices; all of which she, too, denied strenuously, but nevertheless formed one of the thirteen victims whom the offended justice of the times found necessary to condemn and execute. So this sad trial came to an end, and Brian Darcy covered his name with infamy so long as W. W. has a black letter copy extant. The following singular table is drawn up at the end of the book:-- "The names of XIII Witches and those that have been bewitched by them. The Names of those persons that have beene bewitched and thereof haue dyed, and by whome, and of them that haue receyved bodyly harme, &c. As appeareth vpon sundrye Enformations, Examinations, and Confessions taken by the worshipfull Bryan Darcey, Esquire; and by him certified at large vnto the Queene's Maiestie's Justices of Assise of the Countie of Essex, the XXIX of Marche, 1582. S. Osythes. The Witches. } {Kempes wife, 1. Ursley Kempe,} bewitched {Thorlowes Childe, alias Gray } to death {and Strettons wife. 2. Ales Newman } and Ursley } bewitched {Letherdalles childe, Kempe } to death {and Strettons wife. Confessed by} The said Ales} Ursley and} and Ursley } bewitched {Strattons Childe,}whereof Elizabeth.} Kempe } {Grace Thorlowe, }they did }languish. {William Byet, and Joan his 3. Elizabeth } bewitched { wife, and iii of his Bennet } to death { beasts. {The wife of William Willes, { and William Wittingalle. Elizabeth } {William Bonners Wife, John Bennet } bewitched { Butler, Fortunes Childe; { whereof they did languish. Ales Newman } bewitched {John Johnson and his Wife, }to death { and her own Husband, as it { is thought. Confessed } 4. Ales Hunt } bewitched {Rebecca Durrant and vi the cattell.} } to death { beasts of one Haywardes. 5. Cysley Celles} bewitched { Thomas Deaths Childe. } to death { Little } Cysley Celles bewitched {Rosses Mayde, Mary Death, Clapton. } { whereof they did languish. Cysley Celles} bewitched Richard Rosses horse and and } beasts and caused their Impes to Thorpe. 6. Ales } burne a barne with much corne. Manfielde } Confessed by} 7. Ales } bewitched {Robert Chesson, and Ales } Manfielde } to death { Greuell husband to Manfield. } and Margaret} { Margaret. Greuell } Ales } bewitched the widdow Chesson, and her Manfielde } husband, v beasts and one bullocke, and Margaret} and seuerall brewinges of beere, and Greuell } batches of bread. Thorpe. 8. Elizabeth } bewitched {Robert Stannevettes Childe, Ewstace } to death { and Thomas Crosse. Elizabeth } bewitched Robert Stanneuet, vii milch Ewstace } beasts, w{h} gaue blood in steede of milke, and seuerall of his Swine dyed. Little Okley. 9. Annys Herd } bewitched {Richard Harrisons wife, and } to death { two wives of William { Dowsinge, as it is { supposed. Annys Herd } bewitched Cartwright two beasts, } made, sheepe, and lambes xx; West } swine, and pigs; Diborne, a brewing } of beere, and seuerall other losses } of milke and creame. Walton. 10. Joan Robinson} bewitched beasts, horses, swine, and } pigs, of seuerall men. "The sayd Ursley Kemp had foure spyrites, viz., their names Tettey a hee like a gray Cat, Jack a hee like a black Cat, Pygin a she like a black Toad, and Tyffin a she like a white Lambe. The hees were to plague to death, and the shees to punish with bodily harme, and to destroy cattell. "Tyffyn, Ursley's white Spirit, did tell her alwayes (when she asked) what the other witches had done: and by her the most part were appelled, which spirit telled her alwayes true. As is well approved by the other Witches confession. "The sayd Ales Newman had the sayd Ursley Kemps spirits to vse at her pleasure. Elizabeth Bennet had two spirits, viz., their names Suckyn, a hee like a blacke Dog: and Lyard, red lyke a Lyon or Hare. "Ales Hunt had two spirits lyke Colts, the one blacke, the other white. "11. Margery Sammon had two spirits lyke Toads, their Names Tom and Robyn. "Cysley Celles had two spirits by seuerall names, viz., Sotheons, Hercules, Jack, or Mercury. "Ales Manfield and Margaret Greuell had in common by agreement, iiii Spirits, viz., their names Robin, Jack, Will, Puppet, alias Mamet, whereof two were hees, and two were shees, lyke vnto black Cats. "Elizabeth Ewstace had iii Impes or Spirits of colour white, grey, and black. "Annis Herd had vi Impes or Spirites, like auises and black byrdes, and vi other like Kine, of the bygnes of Rats, with short hornes; the Auises shee fed with wheat, barley, otes, and bread, the Kine with straw and hay. Annys Glascocke. } These have not confessed any thing touching 12. Joan Pechey. } the hauing of spirits. 13. Joan Robinson.} Annis Glascocke } bewitched { Mychell Steuens Childe. } to death { The base Childe at Pages. {William Pages Childe. Thus did W. W. and Bryan Darcey finish their respective works, in which, perhaps, this formal tabular statement, this pretence at scientific arrangement and accuracy, is the strangest and most revolting element.[105] Another rare and curious[106] black-letter pamphlet gives a marvellous account of a woman's possession, as it happened in Somersetshire; which perchance we of the light-minded and sceptical nineteenth century might interpret differently to what the believing sixteenth held likely. THE WOMAN AND THE BEAR. One Stephen Cooper, of Ditchet, a yeoman of honest reputation, good wealth, and well beloved by his neighbours, being sick and weak, sent his wife Margaret to a farm of his at Rockington, Gloucestershire, where she remained a few days--not finding all to her liking, she said. When she returned she found her husband somewhat better, but she herself was strange and wild, using much idle talk to him concerning an old groat which her little son had found and which she wanted to see, and raving about the farm in Gloucestershire, as if she had been bewitched, and knew not what she said. Then she began to change in very face, and to look on her husband with "a sad and staring countenance;" and, one night, things came to a climax, for she got very wild and bad, and shook so frightfully that they could scarce keep her down in the bed; and then she began talking of a headless bear, which, she said, she had been into the town to beat away during the time of her fit, and which had followed her from Rockington: as the sequel proved was true. Her friends and husband exhorted her to prayer and patience, but she still continued marvellously holden, the Devil getting quite the better of her until Sunday night, when she seemed to come to her worst. Suddenly the candle, which they had not been noticing, went out, and she set up a lamentable cry; they lighted another, but it burnt so dim it was almost useless, and the friends and neighbours themselves began to be disquieted. Wildly and hurriedly cried Margaret, "Look! do you not see the Devil?" herself all terrified and disturbed. They bade her be still and pray. Then said Margaret, "Well, if you see nothing now, you shall see something by and bye;" and "forthwith they heard a noise in the streete, as it had been the coming of two or three carts, and presently they in the chamber cried out, 'Lord helpe us, what manner of thing is this that commeth here!'" For up to the bedside where the woman lay with heaving breasts and dilated eyes, came a thing like a bear, only that it had no head and no tail; a thing "half a yard in height and half a yard in length" (no bigger, Margaret? not so big as a well-trussed man on all-fours?) which, when her husband saw, he took a joyn'd stool, and "stroke" at it, and the blow sounded as though it had fallen on a feather bed. But the creature took no notice of the man: it wanted only Margaret. Slowly it paddled round the bed, then smote her thrice on the feet, took her out of bed, and rolled her to and fro in the chamber, round about the floor and under the bed; the husband and friends, sore amazed and affrighted, only calling on God to assist them, not daring to lift a hand for themselves or her. And all the while the candle grew dimmer and dimmer, so that they could scarce see each other: which was what Margaret and the headless bear, no doubt, desired. Then the creature took her in its arms, thrust her head between her legs so that he made her into a round ball, and "so roulled her in a rounde compasse like an Hoope through three other Chambers, downe an highe paire of staires, in the Hall, where he kept her for the space of a quarter of an hour." The people above durst not come down, but remained above, weeping pitifully and praying with loud and fervent prayer. And there was such a terrible stench in the hall, and such fiery flames darting hither and thither, that they were fain to stop their noses with clothes and napkins, expecting every moment to find that hell was opening beneath their feet, and that they would be no longer able to keep out of harm's way and the Devil's. Then Margaret cried out, "He is gone. Now he is gone!" and her husband joyfully bade her come up to him again; which she did, but so quickly that they greatly marvelled at it, and thought to be sure the Devil had helped her. Yet she proved to be none the worse for the encounter: which was singular, as times went. They then put her in bed, and four of them kept down the clothes, praying fervently. Suddenly the woman was got out of bed: she did not move herself by nerves, muscles, or will, of course; but she was carried out by a supernatural power, and taken to the window at the head of the bed. But whether the devil or she opened the window, the pamphlet does not determine. Then her legs were thrust out of the window, and the people heard a thing knock at her feet as if it had been upon a tub; and they saw a great fire, and they smelt a grievous smell; and then, by the help of their prayers, they pulled Margaret into the room again, and set her upon her feet. After a few moments she cried out, "O Lord, methinks I see a little childe!" But they paid no heed to her. Twice or thrice she said this, and ever more earnestly; and at last they all looked out at the window, for they thought to be sure she must have some meaning for her raving. And "loe, they espied a thing like unto a little child, with a bright shining countenaunce casting a greate light in the chamber." And then the candle, which had hitherto burnt blue and dim, gave out its natural light so that they could all see each other. Whereupon they fell to joyful prayer, and gave thanks to God for the deliverance. And Margaret Cooper was laid in her bed again, calm, smiling, and collected, never more to be troubled by a Headless Bear which rolled her about like a ball, or by a bright shining child looking out from the chinks of a rude magic lantern. As for the bear, I confess I think he was nearer akin to man than devil; that he was known about Rockington in Gloucestershire; and that Margaret Cooper understood the conduct of the plot from first to last. But then this is the sceptical nineteenth century, wherein the wiles of human cunning are more believed in than the power of the devil, or the miracles of supernaturalism. Yet this was a case which, in spite of all its fraud and folly so patently displayed, was cited as one of the most notorious and striking instances of the power of Satan over the bodies as well as the souls of those who gave themselves up to the things of the world. THE WITCHES OF WARBOIS.[107] In 1589, Robert Throckmorton, Esquire, lived at Warbois, in Huntingdonshire. He had five daughters, the eldest of whom, Miss Joan, was fifteen, while the rest came down in steps, two years or so between each, in the ordinary manner. On the tenth of November, Mistress Jane, being then near ten years of age, was suddenly seized with a kind of fit. She "screeked" loud and often, lay as if in a trance for half an hour or more, shook one leg or one arm and no other, "as if the Palsie had been in it," made her body so stiff and rigid that no man could bend her, and went through the usual forms of a young girl's hysteria. A neighbour, one Alice Samuel, who lived next door to the Throckmortons, went in to see the afflicted child; for all the neighbours were flocking in to see her as a kind of curiosity; and, stepping up into the chimney-side, sat hard down by her, she being held in another woman's arms by the fire. Suddenly the child cried out, "Did you ever see one more like a Witch than she is?" pointing to Mother Samuel; "take off her black-thrumb'd cap, for I cannot abide to look at her." Nothing was thought of her words at the time, the mother merely chiding her for her lightness of speech; but "the old woman hearing her, sat still, without saying a word, yet looked very dismally, as those that saw her remembered very well." And as well she might, poor old soul; for she must have known that Mrs. Jane's light speech would in all probability be heavy enough to bring her down to the grave. Doctoring did the child no good. Dr. Barrow of Cambridge, the most noted man of the district, gave the distemper no satisfactory name, and his remedies were powerless to remove it; Mr. Butler, another skilful man, was equally at fault; and when, about a month after Mrs. Jane had been attacked, two other daughters were driven to the like extremity, and "cry'd out upon Mother Samuel, 'Take her away, look where she standeth there before us in a black thrumb'd Cap (which she commonly wore, though not then); it's she that hath bewitched us, and she will kill us if you don't take her away,'" the parents were moved to believe the whole thing supernatural, and that Mother Samuel had indeed bewitched them as they said. About a month after the affliction of these two, a younger child, not quite nine years old, was taken like the rest; and soon after Mrs. Joan, of fifteen, went the same way--only more severely handled than them all. Mrs. Joan had a specialty in her fits. She was not only hysterical like her sisters, but she had a Spirit, and this Spirit sounded in her ears information of things to come: as, that the servants as well as the five children should be bewitched--which they were, but did not become so notorious as the little impostors of better blood; all recovering so soon as they left the house for other situations, and nothing more being heard of them. Things went on then in this manner, the children being perpetually tormented with fits, and for ever crying out against old dame Samuel, when, in February of the next year (1590), it was resolved to bring her to the house that the children might "scratch" her, and so relieve themselves somewhat. Whereupon she, her young daughter Agnes, and one Cicely Burder--both of whom were accused of the same malpractices as herself--were haled to Mr. Throckmorton's, there to undergo their preliminary ordeal. Every care was taken to prevent the mother from holding any communication with her daughter Agnes; but at the entry she managed to lean over and whisper to her. Mr. Pickering, the children's uncle, who had undertaken to conduct this Scratching, was ready to swear that she said, "I charge thee do not confess anything;" but Mother Samuel swore, in her turn, that she had only charged her to hasten home to get her father his dinner; for that same father was a terrible old Turk, and not likely to wait patiently for his dinner or aught else. When the women went into the house the children were standing by the fire, perfectly well; but the instant they saw Mother Samuel, they fell down in their fits, leaping and springing about like fishes newly taken out of the water, drawing their heads and heels backwards, and throwing out their arms with great groans that were terrible and troublesome to those that beheld them. They screamed and struggled to get at the old woman, scratching at the bed-clothes, or the maids' aprons, or anything they could touch, crying out, "O! that I had her! O! that I had her!" And when Mr. Pickering forced Mother Samuel's hand within theirs, they scratched at it with so much vehemence that one of them splintered her nails "with her eager desire of revenge;" doing the same by Cicely Burder, who thus, we are not told how or why, found herself in a dangerous and equivocal position, but seems to have got well out of it in time. Or perhaps she died between whiles, happily for herself. For the next few months it was Mrs. Elizabeth Throckmorton who kept up the ball. Mr. Pickering took her away with him to his own house, where she fooled them all to the top of their bent, crying out to Mother Samuel to take away her mouse, for she would have none of it, and exclaiming in piteous tones that Mother Samuel was trying to force a cat, or a frog, or sometimes a toad, into her mouth; hopping about on one leg, pretending to be utterly incapable of putting the other to the ground; sometimes going for two steps at a time, when "she would halt and give a beck with her head as low as her knees;" asking if no one heard the spirit within her lapping the milk she had just taken; playing at cards with her eyes shut, or seemingly so; and falling into drowsy fits which took her even in the midst of meals, or any while else specially untimely. Her bewitchment took a certain controversial turn too, and witnessed for the Pope and the Devil; for "on the Eleventh, one asked her if she loved the Word of God; whereupon she was much troubled and tormented. When they asked, Love you Witchcraft? she was content. Love you the Bible? it shaked her. Love you Papistry? the Devil within her was quiet. Love you Prayer? it raged. Love you the Mass? it was still. Love you the Gospel? it heaved up her Belly; so that every good thing it disliked; but whatever concerned Popish Idolatry it was pleased with." Mr. Pickering kept this sectarian young lady from March to September, and then it pleased Mistress Elizabeth to require change of air and scene, and she demanded to be taken back to her father's house at Warbois. There she played off her tricks with new vigour, when Lady Cromwell, wife of Sir Henry Cromwell, Knt., hearing of these heavy afflictions came to visit the children and comfort the parents. The children of course went off into their customary state; it was not their game to disappoint my Lady; "and were so grievously Tormented that it moved the good Lady's Heart with Pity, so that she could not forbear Tears, and caused old Mother Samuel to be sent for, who durst not deny to come, because her Husband was Tenant to Sir Henry Cromwell." As soon as she came in, the children were so much worse that the Lady, transported beyond herself, and exceedingly angry that Mother Samuel would not confess to her crime, seized hold of her as she was struggling to get free of their hands and slip out of the room, pulled off her kircher, and cut off a lock of her hair, which she gave privately to Mrs. Throckmorton together with the old dame's hairlace; bidding her burn them. The old woman turning against the Lady, said, half sorrowfully, "Madam, why do you use me thus? I never did you any harm as yet:" words to be remembered and treasured up against her, when the hour came. That very night Lady Cromwell had bad dreams concerning Mother Samuel and her cat, which she said came to strip all the flesh from her--and awakened, crying mightily and much distressed. From that time she had fits, and continued very hardly holden till her dying day, which was one year and a quarter after the visit to Warbois. So Mother Samuel's words were held to have been witch's threats, and the whole country was convinced that Lady Cromwell had died by her magic arts, and bewitched. As she was, poor lady, with nervous fear and superstition and ignorance. The next year, in the winter of 1591, Mr. Henry Pickering, a young student at Cambridge, tried to make Dame Samuel confess, but she would not suffer him or his companions to speak, and when they desired her to speak softlier, answered: "She was born in a Mill, begot in a Kiln, and must have her Will, and could speak no softlier." Then Mr. Henry began to question her on her faith, but got only tart answers; so, losing patience, he said that if she did not repent and confess to having worked that wickedness on the children, he hoped one day to see her burn at the stake, and that he would bring wood and faggots and the children should blow the coals. To which old Dame Samuel replied that she "would rather see him doused over head in the pond;" and so went away home, to be beaten for gossiping and staying late, by that terrible old Turk of hers. And now the children would be well only when the dame was with them; so the parents sought to engage her to live with them, but the old Turk would not give his consent, and beat her severely with a cudgel on the slightest pretext. The whole thing angered him, and his dame could not do right let her do what she would. However, he was prevailed on to spare her for eight or nine days, during which time the lying little girls professed themselves cured of all their haunting spirits--dun chickens, naked babes, and the like; to the old woman's extreme consternation and passionate assurances of innocence. Then the children turned against Agnes Samuel, the daughter, declaring that she had bewitched them equally with the mother: whereupon the father, Mr. Throckmorton, went to bring her to the house; when she hid herself in an attic or loft, barricading herself in by sacks of wool piled up on the trapdoor. She was forced to come down at last, and her fear was made the chief evidence against her. The hour had come round for her on Time's cruel dial, and she could not escape the inevitable decree that had gone forth. All this while the old mother was forcibly detained at Mr. Throckmorton's house; the children pretending that they could be well only in her presence, and absolutely refusing to let her go, though she was sick and fearful and weary, and cried to get home again to her daughter and husband. That uncompromising oaken cudgel of his was less terrible than the awful suspicion under which she was living here; and the harassing uncertainty of her life--never knowing what new lie the children might frame against her, nor how much nearer they might bring her to the gallows by some wicked fancy or delusion--was infinitely worse than all the oaths and ill-usage of home, of which she knew at least the extent and end. She seems to have been a gentle-spirited old creature in spite of her crusty tongue; and at the beck of every one who chose to knock her about and require from her service and submission. When Mr. Throckmorton had teased and threatened and exhorted her, till she was completely "dazed and mazed" with all she heard--and when the children had acted their fits with such power and accuracy that they simulated nature to the life, and had impressed even her with all the wicked things which their Spirits told them of her and of her daughter--her mind, enfeebled by suffering and terror, gave way, and she was deluded into a confession of sin and penitence; after which she obtained leave to go home. As her husband gave her but a harsh welcome, angry with her for her weakness in confessing, she recanted as of course; when Mr. Throckmorton, getting hold of her by an open window beneath which his friends were stationed, bullied and deluded her once more into making a confession which they might hear; and on the strength of which he carried off both dame and daughter, to be examined by the Bishop of Lincoln. The Bishop found her easy. Yes, she had an imp; a dun chicken which sucked on her chin, and which she had sent to torment the Throckmorton girls. The dun chicken and the rest of the spirits were now at the bottom of her stomach, and made her so full and heavy that she could not lace her coat, nor was the horse on which she rode able to carry her all the way: she had three spirits, all like dun chickens--Pluck, Catch, and White, which had been given her by an "upright man," extremely hard, of the name of Langland, of no particular dwelling and now gone beyond seas; and she had sent all three to the children and had plagued them sorely. This she said at various times, at each clause conjuring the devil and her spirits to inform her of the facts required by the Right Reverend Father in God. After her examination she and her daughter were committed to gaol; but Mr. Throckmorton got Agnes out on bail that he might take her home to the children, and see what they would say of her. This seemed to him the best way to complete the evidences of guiltiness against her, which at present were very slight and worthless. So the net closed tighter and tighter round this hapless family, and soon the deep black waves, rolling onward, dashed over their devoted heads. When they heard that Agnes was brought back to Warbois, the children fell into their fits again, each saying, "I am glad, I am glad; none so glad as I." They knew the cruel sport preparing for them, and were in no hurry to abandon the pleasant excitement of their Possession, during which they were made so many centres of public interest, petted and commiserated and looked at and talked about and made of more consequence than the finest lady in the land. When the game was over they must sink down into the humdrum lives of good little girls in a country town, of no possible interest to living being outside their own house door. Surely an event to be deferred to the latest moment possible! For the first three or four days after Agnes' arrival they condescended to be well, but, being by that time tired of their new companion, they fell back into their former state, and cried out against her more bitterly than they had ever done against her mother. She was more helpless, too, than the mother, and more entirely in their power; so that the sport was greater, and the fear of opposition or detection less. Specially did Mistress Joan, the eldest girl, torment her; who, being at this time seventeen, had other ideas of spirits than dun chickens, mice, or frogs, which were all very well in the days of her infancy but quite uninteresting to her now. The manner in which she introduced her Spirits was singular. One day, just after her nose had bled, and she had said "it would be a good thing to throw her handkerchief into the fire, and burn the young witch," she suddenly looked about her smiling, and said, "What is this in God's Name that comes tumbling to me? It tumbles like a Foot-bal, it looks like a puppit-player, and appears much like its Dame's old thrumb Cap. 'What is your Name, I pray you?' said she. The Thing answered, his Name was Blew. To which she answered, 'Mr. Blew you are welcome, I never saw you before; I thought my Nose bled not for nothing, what News have you brought? What,' says she, 'dost thou say I shall be worse handled than ever I was? Ha! what dost thou say? that I shall now have my Fits, when I shall both hear and see and know every Body? that's a new Trick indeed. I think never any of my Sisters were so used, but I care not for you: do your worst, and when you have done, you will make an end.'" Then she cried out that Agnes Samuel had too much liberty, and must be more strictly looked to; for that Mr. Blew had told her she should have no peace till she and the old dame were hanged. Mrs. Joan had opened a most prolific and amusing vein. Her imagination stopped at nothing, and she showed herself no mean hand at romance. She was very consecutive too, and kept up the likeness well. In the evening Mr. Blew appeared again, chiefly for the purpose of telling her that young Nan Samuel was his Dame, and to ask when the Spirit Smack, of whom he was jealous, had been with her. Mrs. Joan said she knew of no Smack. "You do," says the Thing, "and it is he that tells you all these things, but I will curse him for it." "Do your worst to me or him, I care not for you," says she. "Farewel," says the Thing. "Do you bid me farewel?" says she; "farewel, and be hanged; and come again when you are sent for." So then she came out of her fit. The next day a strange gentleman coming, Mrs. Elizabeth passed off into one of her wild states, and Mr. Throckmorton, "to show the gentleman a wonder," sent for young Agnes, and made her say after him, "I charge thee, thou Devil, as I love thee, and have Authority over thee, and am a Witch, and guilty of this matter, that thou suffer this Child to be well at this present." Upon which Mrs. Elizabeth wiped her eyes, and was perfectly well; and the wretched young girl was by so many steps nearer to her doom. The next day was a grand field-day for Mrs. Joan. Her spirits were in admirable disorder. Mr. Smack came from fighting with Pluck about her, for they were both in love with her, and had fought with great cowl staves last night in old dame's back yard, and Smack had broken Pluck's head, for which Mrs. Joan was not at all thankful, but, when he looked for a little loving word of gratitude, answered, scornfully, that she wished Pluck had broke his neck also, and so bid him go and be hanged for she would have nought to do with him. Presently in came Mr. Pluck, hanging down his broken head and looking very sheepish, but jealous and angry with Smack who seemed to have the best chance of them all with the young lady. Another day it was Catch who came in limping, with a broken leg got from the redoubtable Smack; but when Mrs. Joan tried to break his other leg with a stick she had in her hand--for she was a very scornful young lady to them--she could not; for ever as she struck at him he leaped over the stick, "just like a Jack-an-apes," as she said. Mr. Blew's turn came next. He appeared before her at supper with his arm in a sling: Smack had broken it. So Smack broke Pluck's head, Catch's leg, and Blew's arm, and then came himself to tell her that he would beat them all again, with the help of his cousin another Smack, and one Hardname, whose "Name standeth upon eight Letters, and every Letter standeth for a Word, but what his Name is otherwise we know not." Then Smack and she conversed about the propriety of "scratching" Agnes Samuel; and it was agreed between them that she should not scratch her then, because her face would be healed by the Assizes, but just before that time when all the world might see the marks. And now began a scene of painful brutality. Whenever the children fell into their fits, they would only consent to be got out of them by Agnes' repeating a form of conjuration, in which she acknowledged herself to be a witch and guilty of their disease, commanding the devil, whom she had sent into them, to leave them. Then they came round, and were well until strangers called, when they invariably went off into their fits--which we can quite well understand--or until they got tired of the monotony of health. The most terrible threats were held out against Nan Samuel; and each child talked to its particular spirit with passion and fury of scratching her. It came at last: the little diabolical tempers which rose higher and higher with each fresh indulgence, getting weary of only fits and muttered communications with spirits and the thirst for blood grew into a frenzy. One of the younger children, Mrs. Mary, one day fell into a "very troublesome Fit," which held her half an hour, and at the last, growing better, she said, "Is it true? Do you say this is the day I must scratch the young Witch? I am glad of it; I will pay her home both for myself and Sisters." The young Pickering men who were standing by, hearing this, sent for Agnes to come into the room; when she came in the child cried out, "Art thou come, thou young Witch, who hath done all this mischief?" At which Agnes seemed surprised, this being the first time Mrs. Mary had abused her. Then one of the company told her to take Mary in her arms, and carry her down stairs; but she had no sooner got hold of her than the child fell to scratching her head and face with eager fierceness; the poor girl standing still and holding down her head, not defending herself but only crying out pitifully, while the child scratched on her face a broad and bleeding wound. When she was out of breath and thus forced to leave off, she cried and said "she was sorry for her cruelty, but the Thing made her do it, so that she could not help herself." Another day it was another of them who fell upon the maid, she not defending herself or resenting, but "crying out sadly, desiring the Lord to pitty her." Then they abused her, saying, "Thy Mother is a Witch, thy Father is a Witch, and thou art a Witch, and the worst of all;" and then they clamoured for the father, the old Turk, and would have him in to scratch him too. Just at that moment old Samuel chanced to come in to see his daughter--for he knew what kind of treatment she had to undergo--when a great hubbub arose. The children cried out against him, and--wretched young hypocrites!--exhorted him in the godliest terms to confess and repent; called him witch and naughty man and all the rest of the injuries then current; while he retorted fiercely and rudely, and told one of the little baggages she lied--as she did. But Mr. Throckmorton got angry, and would not let him go till he had pronounced the same conjuration as that by which his poor daughter was forced to "fyle" herself; and when he had said the words, the child came out of her fit, and acted amazement and shame to the life. So it went on: the children having their fits, being visited by their spirits, of whom there were nine now afloat--three Smacks, Pluck, Blew, Catch, White, Callicot, and Hardname--and every day or so scratching poor Nan till her face and back and hands were one mass of scars and wounds. And then the Assize time came, and the three Samuels--father, mother, and daughter--were put upon their trial for bewitching Lady Cromwell to death, and tormenting Mrs. Joan Throckmorton and her sisters. There could be no mistake about it now, for not only had they all three convicted themselves by their own confessions in the conjuration which they had been obliged to repeat, but even before the judge, Mrs. Jane played off the like trick, falling into a terrible fit which only old Samuel could get her out of by repeating the charm. At first he was obstinate and sturdily refused to say the words; but on the judge telling him that he should be brought in guilty if he did not, he consented, and had no sooner said--"As I am a witch, and did consent to the death of the Lady Cromwell, so I charge thee, Devil, to suffer Mrs. Jane to come out of her Fit at this present"--than Mrs. Jane wiped her eyes, looked round her, and said, "O Lord father where am I?" pretending to be quite amazed at her position. No hand is wanting when there is stoning to be done. Now that the Samuels were fairly convicted of witchcraft in one instance, witnesses came forward to prove them guilty of the like in others. It was remembered how certain persons had died who had offended the old dame; how others had lost their cows and whole farm stock in consequence of giving her rough language; how, even since she had been in gaol, she had bewitched to his death one of the turnkeys who had chained her to a bedpost, and had cruelly afflicted the gaoler's own son, so that he could not be recovered but by "scratching" her; with the further proof that when the grand jury returned a true bill, "billa vera," against them, old father Samuel burst out passionately to her with, "A plague of God light on thee, for thou art she that has brought us all to this, and we may thank thee for it." So the judge, "after good divine counsel given to them, proceeded to Judgment, which was to death." But the poor old woman set up a plea of being with child, though she was near fourscore years of age; at which all the court laughed, and she herself most of all, thinking it might save her. Some one standing near to Agnes counselled her to try the like plea; but the brave young girl, who had something of her father's spirit in her, indignantly refused. "No," said Agnes, with the gallows straight before her, and this desperate plea perhaps able to save her--"no; it shall never be said that I was both Witch and ----." She died with the same haughty courage maintained to the last: but old mother Samuel maundered through a vast number of confessions--implicated her husband--confessed to her spirits--but with one affecting touch of nature, through all her drivel and imbecility steadily refused to criminate her daughter. No, her Nan was no witch; she was clear and pure before God and towards man; and neither force nor cajolery could make her forswear that bit of loving truth. When those three helpless wretches were fairly dead, the children, upon whose young souls lay the ineffaceable stain of Murder, and whose first steps in life had been through innocent blood, gave up the game and pronounced themselves cured: so we hear no more of their fits or their spirits, or Mrs. Joan's ghostly lovers fighting with cowl staves and breaking each other's heads out of jealousy and revenge: and the last record of the case is, that Sir Henry Cromwell left an annual sum of forty shillings to provide for a yearly sermon against witchcraft, to be preached at Huntingdon by a B.D. or D.D. member of Queen's College, Cambridge. How terrible to think that three human lives were sacrificed for such wild and wilful nonsense, and that sane and thoughtful and noble-minded people of this present day walk on the way towards the same faith! Better by far the most chill and desolate scepticism, which at least will light no Smithfield fires for any forms of creed or monstrous imaginings of superstition, than beliefs which can only be expressed and maintained by blood, and the culmination of which is in the suffering and destruction of all dissentients. THE MAN OF HOPE AND THE DEVIL.[108] A young lawyer, a Mr. Darrel, had a call to the ministry. He was made aware of this by the extraordinary sluggishness that came upon him when he turned to open a law book; so, as preaching puritanical sermons extempore was less toilsome and cost less study than learning the intricacies of the Codex Anglicanus, he became converted to extreme doctrines, and was principally regarded as a Man of Hope, skilful in casting out devils and marvellously apt at discovering witchcraft. His first essay at this work was in 1587 with Katherine Green, a young girl of seventeen, who had some hysterical affection which caused her to swell to an enormous size and led her to fancies and delusions, as, that she saw shapes and apparitions, and a young child without feet or legs looking at her from out a well. She also had fits, which she afterwards confessed were simulated in order to make her father-in-law, who was generally exceedingly severe with her, more kind and pliable: but Mr. Darrel said they were the fits of possession, and, as a proof, cast eight devils out of her; specially one sturdy devil, called Middlecub, which had been sent into her by Margaret Roper. Mr. Darrel at once seized Margaret Roper, accusing her of this Middlecub imp, and sending her off to the magistrate, Mr. Fouliamb; and in the meanwhile Katherine suffered herself to be repossessed, having been imprudent enough to talk with the devil in the likeness of a handsome young man who met her in the lanes, where he entertained her with propositions of marriage, and gave her some bread to eat. Mr. Fouliamb happened to be a man of sense, and discharged Margaret Roper, at the same time threatening to send Darrel to prison in her stead if he took on himself to calumniate honest folk without cause. This rebuff cooled the young lawyer parson's ardour a little; but in 1594 the Starkies of Lancashire announced themselves possessed, and Mr. Darrel must needs go down to vex the foul fiend that had gotten them. For he was so holy a man that the devils hated him mightily, being sorely vexed in his presence, and crying out, "Now he is gone; now he is gone; now blacke coate is gone," as soon as he quitted them, wearied with his wrestling. The story of the Starkies was this:-- Anne, aged nine, and John, of ten, were taken with "dumpish heavie countenances," and fearful startings of their bodies, loud shouting fits, and convulsions. The father went to Hartley, a known conjuror, who came to their aid with popish charms and certain herbs; and so stilled them for a year and a half. But when he "fained as thought he would haue gone into another countrey," the children fell ill again, and Mr. Starkie thought it best to secure the perpetual services of the conjuror by a fee of forty shillings yearly. But Hartley wanted more, and thereupon began a quarrel which ended in the Possession of the children, of three scholars living at the Starkies, of Margaret Byron, and lastly of Hartley himself. Now Hartley had a devil, and whomsoever he kissed he inoculated with this devil and breathed it into them. And as he was always kissing some one--John for love often, the little wenches in jest, to Margaret Hardman "promising a thraue of kisses," "wrestling with Johan Smyth, a maid, to kiss her"--he had given the devil in rich proportion all through the Starkies' house, and only Mr. Darrel could exorcise him. The possessed leaped about like goats, and crawled on all fours like beasts, and barked like dogs, and had communications from a white dove, and saw horned devils under the beds, and had visions of big black dogs with monstrous tails and bound with chains, and huge black cats and big mice that knocked them down at a blow, and left them speechless, cold, and dead. And then they took to "slossinge up their meat like greedy dogges or hogges," and they made the same noises as a broken-winded horse; and they howled and shrieked; and one of them, Jane Ashton the servant aged thirty, fell foul of Edmund Hartley for all his kisses and promises of marriage; and they "yelled and whupped;" and there was in very truth the devil to pay in that horrible house when Mr. More and Mr. Darrel went to exorcise the fiends and restore the possessed to their senses. After some days of prayer, and of fighting with the devil who would cry out when Mr. Darrel was preaching, "Bible bable, he will never have done prating, prittle prattle;" and "I must goe, I must away; I cannot tarrie; whither shall I goe? I am hot, I am too hot, I will not dye!" and such like, six of them were delivered, and visibly and bodily dispossessed. With one, Mary Byron, the devil came up from her stomach to her breast, then to her throat, when it gave her "a sore lug," whilst a mist dazzled her eyes. Then she felt it go out of her mouth, leaving behind it a sore throat and a filthy smell, and it was in the likeness of a crow's head, and it sat in a corner of the parlour in the dark; but suddenly flashing out all a fire it flew out of the window, and the whole place was in a blaze, according to her imagination. John Starkie lost his in the shape of a man with a humpback and very ill-favoured, who, when he had gone out wished much to re-enter, but Master John withstood him, and had the best of it. He was like a "foule ugly man with a white beard and a 'bulch' on his back." The same tale had little Ellin Holland and Anne Starkie to tell, all save the white beard. Elinor Hardman lost hers as an urchin, but presently returning through a little hole in the parlour, he offered her gold and silver in any quantity if she would let him enter again, and when she resisted he threatened to cast her into the fire and the pit, and to break her neck; all of which threats being unheeded by the little maid of ten, he left her again in his old form of "urchin." The next day, and the next, all these devils came again, seeking to repossess the children. They came in various forms--as a black raven; a black boy, with his head bigger than his body; a black rough dog with a firebrand in his mouth; five white doves; a brave fellow like a wooer; two little whelps that played on the table, and ran into a dish of butter; an ape; a bear with fire in his mouth; a haystack--all, haystack as well as the rest, promising them bags of gold and silver if they might come into them again, but threatening to break their necks and their backs, and throw them into the pit and the fire, and out of the window, if denied. But Messrs. More and Darrel were instant in prayer, and successfully withstood them. The children were pronounced finally dispossessed: all save Jane Ashton, who went away to a popish family and became popish herself; wherefore the devil recovered her, says Mr. Darrel, and her last state was worse than her first. As for Edmund Hartley, he was hanged at Lancaster, chiefly through Mr. Darrel's exertions. In 1596 Mr. Darrel had more work. Thomas Darling, "the Boy of Burton," had offended old Alice Goodridge; so Alice possessed him, and Mr. Darrel was sent for the undoing. His chief weapon in this case was a ranting tract called "The Enemie of Securitie," which the devil could not abide any how, and during the reading of which he would cry out--through the earthly medium of the Boy of Burton--"Radulphus, Belzebub can doe no good, his head is stricken off with a word."--"We cannot prevaile (against the church and Mr. Darrel), for they will not be holpen by witches. Brother Radulphus, we cannot prevaile; let us go to our mistress and torment her; I have had a draught of her blood to-day." "Againe--'There is a woman earnest at prayer, get her away.' 'Nay,' quoth John Alsop (a man that was present), with a loude voice, 'we cannot spare her.' Thus the Boy graced Mistress Wightman, his aunt. And againe, 'Brother Glassop (another devil), we cannot prevaile, his faith is soe strong. And they fast and pray, and a preacher prayeth as fast as they.'" And "I bayted my hooke often, and at last I catcht him. Heere I was before, and heere I am againe, and heere I must stay, though it be but for a short tyme. I leade them to drink, carouse, and quaffe. I make them to sweare. I have leave given mee to doe what I will for a time. What is wightier than a Kinge in his owne lande? A King I am, in whome I raigne, heere I am King for a time." With much more of the same kind. In the mean time old Alice Goodridge, who had wrought all this mischief, died in prison, while her devilish spirit or imp, Minnie, whom she had sent into the boy, racketed and rioted in his soul and body, and Mr. Darrel wrestled against him with prayer and "the Enemie of Securitie." He finally prevailed, and after Thomas Darling had been possessed and dispossessed and repossessed again, delivered him from Radulphus and Minnie and Glassop and Beelzebub, and so had leisure to turn to some one else when needed. That some one else was soon found; for there was Will Somers, a lad living with Mr. Brakenbury at Ashby-de-la-Zouch during the time of Mr. Darrel's ministry there, who was now at Nottingham, and one of the most accomplished demoniacs of the day. Nothing would satisfy Will but that Mr. Darrel should be sent for to cast the devil out of him. He had known of his prowess with Katherine Wright, and the Starkies, and the Boy of Burton, and why should he not glorify God and the Puritans as well in Nottingham as in Lancashire? Accordingly, that gentleman was sent for on the 5th of November, 1597, and the farce began. Before Mr. Darrel even saw the lad he said he was possessed, and he said the same thing to himself--counterfeiting or illness being of course put out of court; and he described to the bystanders in what shape the devil would appear when driven out of the lad--for he would make himself visible to them if they had but faith and courage and patience to see the end, and if they would not be terrified when the boy "scriehed or cryed aloude in a strange and supernaturall manner; sometimes roaring fearfullye lyke a beare, and crying like a swyne." The shapes, then, in which he would go were these--"a Mouse, a Man with a Hunch-back higher than his Head, an ugly Man with a white Beard, a Crow's Head round, a great Breath, ugly like a Toad, an Urchin, &c." And he told them, also in the lad's hearing, of what other possessed persons had done: how they had cast themselves into fire or water, gnashed with their teeth, writhed with their necks, and drawn their mouths awry, foaming. Then he said that Will Somers was afflicted for the sins of Nottingham, and God had made even the devil a preacher to deter them from them; whereat Will acted by signs all the sins of Nottingham, and Mr. Darrel explained them to the people as he went on. With such a master as this, it was no difficult matter for the pupil to succeed. Two sermons were preached on his behalf. During Mr. Aldred's he lay still, excepting a little struggle now and then: this was to show that Mr. Aldred was not powerful as a Man of God. But when Mr. Darrel began, he roused himself up, and on his describing the fourteen signs of Possession one after the other, acted them all to the life as he told them off. "He tore; he foamed; he wallowed; his Face was drawn awry; his Eyes would stare and his Tongue hang out; he had a Swelling would seem to run from his Forehead down by his Ear and Throat, and through his Belly and Thighs, to the Calf of his Legs; he would speak with his Mouth scarce moving; and when they looked his Tongue would seem drawn down his Throat; he would try to cast himself into the Fire and Water; he would seem heavy that they could not lift him, and his Joints stiff that they could not bend them." And when Mr. Darrel further exhorted them all to stand firm, and they would see the glory of God in the dispossession, he cried and rended and laid as if dead, just in the order which the preacher desired. Then he rose up cured and exorcised; but Mr. Darrel told him he might be possessed again, and he must be very careful and watchful. Of course he was possessed again. He had been too great a gainer by the first trial not to venture on a second. If he had been bought off his apprenticeship, had large presents of clothes, and kept in idleness at his father-in-law's, for a first trial, what might not fall from the skies on this second occasion? So Will began to talk wildly of a black dog that haunted him, offering him gold and ginger, and of the devil who came with six more shapes to torment him--namely, as a cock, a crane, a snake, an angel, a toad, a newt, a set of viols, and dancers, and that he stood before him "with a foure-forked cappe on his heade;" sometimes, too, making noises and motions like whelps or "kitlings." Fourteen persons were thrown into prison, accused of bewitching Master Will, of whom the most celebrated was Millicent Horslie, whom no human skill could have saved had not the impostor betrayed himself in time. For Will Somers had a revelation concerning her, which must be told in the words of his "confession," as reported by Harsnet:--"Maister Darrel told my father-in-law and others in my hearing, that he, the said Maister Darrel, Maister Aldred, and some others, were going to carrie Millicent Horsley (that present morning) to the said Maister Perkins, to be examined. Whereupon, I gessing by the time of Maister Darrel's departure, and by the distance of the way, and of the likelihood that she woulde deny herselfe to bee a witche, said to those that were present by mee in one of my fittes, about eleven of the clocke, that Millicent Horsley was in examining, and that she denyed herselfe to be a witch." This coincidence was too striking an instance of supernatural power to be overlooked. Mr. Darrel worked on it as one of the most marvellous proofs of the boy's undeniable possession, and Millicent Horsley lay in gaol, together with thirteen others, to satisfy the craft of one and the credulity of the other, and to prove the whole age sick, diseased, and enfeebled by superstition. Will's sister, Mary Cowper, seeing how pleasant and profitable a thing it was to be bewitched, followed in her brother's steps, and cried out on Alice Freeman, a poor old creature who thought to escape by saying she was with child. The plea was not a very safe one, for Mr. Darrel told her if she was, it was by the devil, and she had better have held her tongue. But by this time the parish authorities got frightened, and interfered; sending Will off to the workhouse, where he still continued his fits and antics, until a rough fellow there, one John Shepheard, told him that if he "did not leave and rise up he would set such a pair of Knip-knaps upon him as should make him rue it"--when he gathered himself up and confessed his imposture. Mr. Darrel would have none of this recantation. He said he was more possessed than ever, and that it was the devil within him that made him to lie. So Will wrote the following letter, as a kind of quietus to his zealous friend:-- "Mr. Darrel, my hearty Commendations unto you. This is to desire you that you would let me be at quiet: For whereas you said that I was Possessed, I was not; and for those Tricks that I did before you came, was through Folks Speeches that came to me: And those that I did since, was through your Speeches, and others. For as you said I could not hear, I did hear all Things that were done in the House, and all Things that I did were counterfeit; And I pray you to let it pass; for the more you meddle in it, the more discredit it will be for you: And I pray God, and you, and all the World to forgive me." Even this was not enough. Will was bribed over by the promise of a good place in a gentleman's house if he would be properly demoniac again; and consenting thereto, played again his old tricks; but the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Edmund Anderson, not believing a word of it all, encouraged him kindly to tell the truth, and not be afraid; so Will started up and was perfectly well, and for the greater satisfaction of the gentlefolks showed them how he worked. And to prove how small was the value of evidence in those days, one Richard Mee--who was held to have deposed "That he had seen William Somers turn his Face directly backward, not moving his Body, and that his Eyes were as great as Beasts' Eyes, and that his Tongue would be thrust out of his Head to the bigness of a Calve's Tongue" when re-examined explained himself thus:--"My Meaning was that he turned his Face a good Way towards his Shoulder, and that his Eyes were something gogling; and by reason that it was Candle-light when I saw his Tongue thrust out, and by reason of my Conceit of the Strangeness of Somers's Troubles, it seemed somewhat bigger than, if Somers had been well, I should have thought it to have been." Again, a black dog which Will had cried out on as the devil, and which, by reason of his words had actually been taken for the devil with eyes glaring like fire, come back to repossess him, turned out to be nothing but a spurrier's dog crouching in the background of the darkening chamber. So, when carefully sifted, would the evidence of all such-like marvels prove to be merest chaff scattered on the ground; and yet, a century after, Mr. Richard Boulton is found repeating the story of Will Somers' possession as if it had never been disproved; and there are some even now living who would cite it as a case of proved spiritualism. Mr. Darrel was degraded from the ministry, and committed to close prison: rather harsh measures simply because he had more faith and a little less discretion than his neighbours. GIFFARD'S ANECDOTES.[109] George Giffard, "minister of God's word in Maldon," put forth a little book in 1603, containing a number of witch stories and anecdotes, without names, dates, or places, yet written in a manner and style evidently proving their reliability, and all seeming to have come within his own personal knowledge as believed in by others. One, whom he knew, under the assumed name of one of his characters was constantly troubled by a hare, which his conscience accused him was a witch "she stared at him so;" and sometimes an ugly weasel would run through his yard; and sometimes a foul big cat sit upon his barn, for which he had no manner of liking; and an old woman of the place, whom he had been as careful to please as if she had been his mother, still frowned upon him to his exceeding discomfort; and a hog which overnight had eaten his meat with his fellows, quite hearty and well, in the morning was stark dead; and five or six hens died too, in a manner no one could understand, save by the power of witchcraft. And once another of his friends went to a cunning man who lived twenty miles off, complaining of his farm-yard losses: so the cunning man took a glass, and bidding him look in it, showed him a certain suspected witch therein, telling him that she had three or four imps, "some call them puckrels," one of which was like a gray cat, another like a weasel, a third like a mouse. There was also another cunning person--a woman--to whom a father took a child that had long been lame and pained. The woman told the man he had an ill neighbour, and that the child was forespoken. "Marie, if he would go home and bring her some of the clothes which the child lay in all night, she would tell him certainely." The father went home and did as he was bid, when the wise woman informed him that the girl was bewitched, counselled him what to do, and the "girle is well at this day, and a pretie quicke girle," says George Giffard, with a sneer at his neighbour's easy faith. Another had his wife much troubled; so he, too, went off to a wise woman, who told him that his wife was haunted by a fairy. As a counter-charm she was bidden to wear a part of St. John's Gospel ever about her, against which the fairies could not stand, so fled. Another good wife could not make her butter come: it was bewitched, and for a whole week obstinately disregarded the laws of butter nature: wherefore they heated a spit, red hot, and thrust it into the cream--and it came at once. The next morning the good wife met the suspected witch--"the old filth," she calls her with more emphasis than euphony. "Lord, how sowerly she looked upon me, and mumbled as she went! Ah, quoth she, you have an honest man to your husband. I hear how he doth use me!" The wife longed to scratch the witch, her stomach rose so against her, but she was afraid she would prove the stronger, for she was "a lustie old quean," and let her pass unmolested. In a certain village a wealthy man was suddenly reduced to comparative poverty by extraordinary losses in his farm; he himself fell ill, and his child of seven years of age sickened and died. He sent to the same wise woman at R. H., who told him that he was bewitched, and moreover, that there were three witches and one wizard in the town where he lived. The forespoken farmer caused the one whom he most suspected to be seized and examined, who at last confessed, after making "much ado," and taking up the time of the worshipful justice to no good. She said that she had three imps, a cat Lightfoot, a toad Lunch, a weasel Makeshift. Lightfoot had been given to her sixteen years ago, by one Mother Barlie of W. in return for an oven cake; the toad and the weasel came of their own accord and offered their services gratuitously. The cat killed kine, the weasel killed horses, and the toad plagued men; so the poor old creature was sent to the county gaol, where she died before the assizes. Another woman, old Mother W. of Great T., had an imp like a weasel. "She was offended highly with one H. M.; home she went, and called forth her spirit, which lay in a pot of woole under her bed: she willed him to go plague the man: he inquired what she would give him, and he would kill H. M. She said she would give him a cocke, which she did, and he went, and the man fell sicke with a greate paine in his belly, languished and died; the witch was arraigned, condemned, and hanged, and did confesse all this." Seven miles hence, at W. B., a man in good health suddenly fell sick, pined for half a year, and then died. His wife, suspecting evil doings, went to a cunning woman, who showed her in a glass the likeness of the witch who had destroyed him, wearing an old red cap with corners, such as women were used to wear. The old red-capped woman was taken, tried, soon brought to confess to the bewitching of the man, and executed. But before she died she told them all, how that she had a spirit in the likeness of a yellow dun cat, which came to her one night as she sat by the fire nursing angry thoughts against a neighbour with whom she had fallen out. She was frightened, she said, but the cat bid her not be afraid, for it had served an old dame, that was now dead, for five years down in Kent, and would serve her now, an she would. The woman took the cat at its word, and by it killed many a cow and hog of those who angered her: at last she sent it to this man, and the cat killed him. She was hanged, and the yellow dun imp was never more seen. Mr. Giffard knew a church which had been robbed of its communion service: a wise man told the churchwardens what to do and the thief would surely ride in all haste to confess. As it proved. Another case was that of a child taken piteously ill. Under the cunning man's advice the father burnt its clothes, and while they were burning, the witch came running in, grievously pained. The child was well within two days. A butcher had a son, John, terribly afflicted with sores. Salves and plasters would not heal him; but when a cunning man showed him in a glass the form of the witch who had laid this harmful thing upon him, and they had cut off some of the boy's hair and burnt it, the old woman came to the house in all speed, crying, "John, John, scratch me!" So John scratched her till the blood came, and his sores all healed of themselves, without salve or plaster helping. A woman had blear eyes that were watery; a knave lodging at the house wrote a charm which she was always to wear about her neck, and never lose or look at. She wore her charm, and her eyes got quite well; but one day, prompted by Eve's sin, she opened the packet, and found a piece of paper on which was written, in the German tongue, "The devil plucke out thine eyes and fill their holes with dirt." Terrified at the unholy nature of her cure, the woman flung the charm away, and her eyes immediately became bleared and watery as before.[110] A woman suspected of witchcraft was taken in hand by a gentleman, who undertook to induce her to confess. She was very stiff about the matter, and denied all dealings with the devil in any way. Suddenly, at some distance from them, appeared a weasel or a lobster, looking straight at them. "Look!" said the gentleman, "yonder same is thy spirit!" "Oh, master," said she, "that is a vermine. There be many of them everywhere." But as they went towards it, the weasel or lobster vanished clean out of sight. "Surely," said the gentleman, "it is thy spirit." But still she denied, "and with that her mouth was drawn all awrie." When a little further pressed she allowed all, and the gentleman, being no justice, sent her home, exhorting her to go to a magistrate and ease her soul by confession. As she got home she was met by another witch who came violently enraged against her. "Ah, thou beast! what hast thou done? thou hast bewrayed us all!" she said. "What remedy now?" said she. "What remedy?" saith the other, "send thy spirit and touch him." At that moment the gentleman felt, as it were, a flash of fire about him; but he lifted his hat and prayed, and the spirit came back and said it could do him no hurt, because he had faith. So then they sent it against his child, and the child was taken ill with great pain and died. The witches confessed and were hanged. Another witch had her spirit hidden in the boll of a tree; and there she held long conversations with this ghastly Ariel, he answering in a hollow ghoustie voice, as might be expected. When any offended her, she would go to the tree and release her imp to do them harm. She had killed many hogs, horses, and the like by this spirit; but at last justice got hold of her with its mailed hand and killed her. Another friend of Giffard's, also under the disguise of one of his characters, was twice on a jury, when certain old women were charged with harming their neighbours' goods and lives. There was no proof in either case, and the old women protested their innocence passionately; but the jury brought them in guilty, which was perfectly logical and right according to their notions of the law of that God who suffers the devil to torment the sons of men, and to delude old women into the possession of unholy powers. What, indeed, could be done with them when, by a look or a word, they could afflict even unto death the most beautiful of God's creatures, and send the devil to inhabit the purest of souls? The mischief lay in the fundamental creed, not so much in the application of it, terrible and bloody as it was; and it is against this creed, that I would most earnestly insist. It must be remembered, too, that Giffard writes ironically, and brings together all these cases as evidence of the foolishness and wickedness of the faith. THE POSSESSED MAID OF THAMES STREET.[111] In 1603, Mary Glover, a merchant's daughter in Thames Street, gave herself out as bewitched, and said that Mother Jackson had done it. A little glimmering of reason made the physician Dr. Boncraft tell the Lord Chief Justice Anderson that Mother Jackson was wrongfully accused, and the girl was counterfeiting. So the Lord Chief Justice caused the Recorder of London, Sir John Crook, have her to him in his chambers in the Temple. The maid went with her mother and some neighbours, and in an hour's time came Mother Jackson, disguised like a country market woman, with a muffler hiding her face, an old hat, and a short cloak bespattered with mire. As soon as she entered the maid fell backward on the floor; "her Eyes drawn into her Head, her Tongue toward her Throat, her Mouth drawn up to her Ear, her Bodie became stiff and senseless, Her Lips being shut closs a plain and audible Voice came out from her Nostrils saying 'Hang her, hang her.'" The Recorder, willing to try her, called for a candle at which to light a sheet of paper, then held the burning paper to her hand till a blister came, rising and breaking and the water running down on the floor. But still the maid lay as if dead, with the Voice coming out of her Nostrils, saying, "Hang her, hang her." Not satisfied with the trial of burning, the Recorder got a long pin, which he made hot and thrust up her nostrils to see if she would "neese," wink, bend her brows, or stir her head; but still she lay as before, stiff, senseless, and as one dead. The minister, one Lewis Hughes, who tells this story which Sinclair quotes, told the Recorder that he had often prayed with the maid, and that when he concluded with the Lord's Prayer and came to "but deliver us from all evil," the maid would be tost and shaken as a mastiff might shake a cur. Then the Recorder bade the witch say the Lord's Prayer, but she could not say it: she kept on all right until the clause "deliver us from evil," and this she skipped over; neither would she confess that Jesus Christ was our Lord in the Articles of the Christian Faith. When Mary was in her fits, if the witch but so much as laid her hand upon her she was tost and shaken fearfully. This the Recorder wished to verify: so he bade first one, then another, of the neighbours come forward and touch her; which they did; but she never stirred till Mother Jackson touched her, when she was shaken as before. Then the Recorder said, "Lord, have mercy upon the woman!" for he was now fully convinced; and sent poor old Mother Jackson off to Newgate. As soon as she was sent off the maid came to herself, the voice ceased out of her nostrils, and she went home with her mother. Three weeks or more after the witch was condemned, the maid had the same fits, strange and fearful to behold, and the Recorder told the minister, and all the ministers of London, "that we might be ashamed to see a Child of God in the Claws of the Devil without any hope of deliverance but by such means as God had appointed--Fasting and Prayer." Then five ministers, all good Christians and sound believers, assembled and prayed from morning to candle-light, when Mary suddenly started out of her chair--they crying "Jesus help, Jesus save!"--and came up to Lewis Hughes, in a state of wildness and dismay. As he stood behind her holding her by the arms, she lifted both herself and him off the ground, foaming at the mouth and struggling thus all over the chamber; and then her strength gave way, and she fell as if dead, her head hanging down and her limbs, which had been so stiff and frozen, now supple and limber. In a short time her eyes came back into their place and her tongue came out of her throat, and she looked round and said cheerfully, "Oh! he is come, he is come! The Comforter is come! the Comforter is come! I am delivered, I am delivered!" Her father hearing these words wept and said, "These were her grandfather's words when he was at the stake, the fire crackling about him," for he died a martyr to the Reformed Faith in Queen Mary's time. Then she prayed and thanked God till her voice was weak, and so the company separated, and Mary went home. Afterwards she was put with Lewis Hughes for a year, lest Satan should assault her again, and Mr. John Swan wrote the most canting and nauseating book on her "case" that ever fanatic penned or the duped and the gulled believed. But poor old Mother Jackson was dead: and those who mourned for her, mourned in secret and silence and shame. There was another case of possession, this same year--Thomas Harrison, the Boy of Norwich--chiefly remarkable for having procured such attention from the ecclesiastical authorities that seven persons were formally licensed to have private prayers and fasting for his deliverance. But the bishop and commissioners who had seen his fits thought him an impostor, so his case died out for want of public support.[112] And now we have the master of kingcraft on the throne, with his mania against witches, his private vices, and public follies, treacherous, cruel, narrow-minded, and cowardly beyond anything that has ever disgraced the English throne before or since. And one of the first trials for witchcraft during his reign was that disgraceful affair in which Somerset and his wife, Foreman, Sir Thomas Overbury, and Mrs. Turner were all mixed up together. SWEET FATHER FOREMAN. That Carr and Lady Essex should have an intrigue together was not so bad, but that Mrs. Turner should have recourse to charms and conjurations, "to inchant the Viscount's affection towards her," that "much time should be spent, many words of witchcraft, great cost in making pictures of wax, crosses of silver, and little babies for that use," that specially, there should be among the images of wax, one "very sumptuously apparrelled in silke and sattin, as alsoe another sitting in forme of a naked woman spreading and laying forth her haires in a glass," was terrible misdoing against both God and the king. The murder of Sir Thomas Overbury was venial; the intrigue between his favourite and another man's wife was venial too; his own vices were mere kindly flea-bites on his dignity; but charms and conjurations, and my Lady Essex calling that old wizard Foreman her "sweet father"--this was more than the British Solomon could well digest. So when he had got tired of Carr and wanted to be rid of him, he suddenly remembered sweet Father Foreman, disciple of Dr. Dee, and Mrs. Turner, inventor of yellow starch for ruffs and falling bands, and not only smote Somerset straight in the face for his own share, but sent a side shaft after him, through his "creatures." Well for himself was it that sweet Father Foreman was dead and buried deep; so there only remained Mrs. Turner and one or two inferior agents in the matter--just enough to keep the people amused, and satisfy the royal lust for witch blood. Somerset came to the block on another count, about as false as the rest; and Mrs. Turner swung from the gibbet in her yellow ruff on every plea but the right one, and for any sin but those of her real and actual life. After her death was found her black scarf full of white crosses: and the mould in which Father Foreman had cast his leaden images of women; and written charms spread out on fair white parchment; and, worst of all, a list of all the ladies who had gone to consult the sorcerer as to how they might gain the love of other lords than their own; which list the Lord Chief Justice would not read out in court because, said the gossips, his own wife's name was the first that caught his eye. THE WITCHES OF NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.[113] "Of poor parentage, and poor education," old Agnes Browne had but a sorry life of it in the little town of Gilsborough where she lived. She had one daughter, Joan Vaughan, or Varnham, "a maide, or at least unmarried," says the old black-letter book maliciously; "as gratious as the mother, and both of them as farre from grace as Heaven from hell;" which Joan was "so well brought up vnder her mother's elbow, that she hangd with her for company vnder her mother's nose." It seems that one day, Joan, being in the company of a certain Mistress Belcher, "a virtuous and godly Gentlewoman of the same towne of Gilsborough, whether of purpose to giue occasion of anger to the saide Mistris Belcher, or but to continue her vilde and ordinary custome of behauiour, committed something either in speech or gesture so vnfitting, and vnseeming the nature of womanhood" that Mistress Belcher's patience could bear with her no longer. She got up, beat Joan Vaughan, and "forced her to avoid the company." Joan went away muttering that she would be revenged; to which replied Mrs. Belcher stoutly, that she feared neither her nor her mother, and bade her do her worst. Then Joan went home to her mother, and both together devised such a punishment that Mrs. Belcher was griped and gnawed of her body, her mouth drawn all awry, and in such powerful fits that she could scarce be held, crying out incessantly in her fits, "Here comes Joane Vaughan, away with Joane Vaughan!" till all the world knew that she was bewitched, and that old Agnes Browne and her daughter had caused the trouble. Mistress Belcher's brother, one Master Avery, hearing of his sister's sickness and extremity, came to see her; and when he saw her, was moved to such anguish and indignation that he must needs go to the house of the witches to hale them to his sister, that she might draw their blood. But though he twice essayed, he was twice arrested by some miraculous agency, spell-bound, and unable to move hand or foot; he could not, by any possibility, advance beyond a certain spot, whereby the witches were safe for this time at least, "the devil, who was standing sentinel," being stronger than he. Wherefore sorrowfully he turned back, and went home to his own place. But these "imps of the devil" had longer arms than he, and in a very short time he was as grievously tormented as his sister, his torments enduring until the witches were arrested and taken to Northampton gaol. When there, nothing would satisfy Mistress Belcher and her brother Master Avery but that they should go to the prison and "scratch" the witches; which they did, and both recovered of their pains marvellously on the instant. "Howbeit they were no sooner out of sight, but they fell againe into their old traunces, and were more violently tormented than before; for when Mischiefe is once a foote, she grows in short time so headstrong, that she is hardly curbed." Mistress Belcher and Master Avery returning home from Northampton in a coach, after their godly exercise of drawing blood from these two wretched women, saw suddenly a man and woman riding both upon a black horse. At which Master Avery cried out that either they or their horses should presently miscarry; and he had no sooner spoken than both their horses fell down dead. Wherefore, for all these crimes, as well as for bewitching a young child to death, Agnes Browne and her daughter Joan were adjudged guilty, and hanged on that 22nd of July, protesting their innocence to the last. And then it came out that about a fortnight before her apprehension Agnes Browne, Katherine Gardiner, and Joan Lucas, "all birds of a winge," had been seen riding on a sow's back to a place called Ravenstrop, to see one Mother Rhoades, an old witch that dwelt there. But before they got there old Mother Rhoades had died, "and in her last cast cried out that there were three of her old friends comming to see her, but they came too late. Howbeit she would meet with them in another place within a month after. And thus much concerning Agnes Browne and her daughter Joane Vaughan," says the old black-letter book contemptuously. The son of witches, Arthur Bill could not control his appointed fate. Suspected by the authorities, but without proof, he and his father and mother were swum for trial, tied cross bound and flung into the water, where they floated and did not sink. Arthur was accused of bewitching to her death one Martha Aspine, as also of having bewitched sundry cattle; and as the parents had a bad name, it was thought best to try them all. After this trial of the water, Arthur was afraid, says the black-letter book, lest his father should relent and betray him and them all; whereupon he sent for his mother, and both together bewitched a round ball into his father's throat, so that he could not speak a word. When the ball was got out, the father proved the principal witness against them. The poor mother, who seems to have been a loving, sensitive, downcast woman, fainted many times during this terrible period; "Many times complaining to her spirit," says the bitter, uncharitable, anonymous author, "that the power of the Law would bee stronger than the power of her art, and that shee saw no other likelihood but that shee should be hanged as her Sonne was like to bee: To whom her spirit answered, giuing this sorry comfort, that shee should not bee hanged, but to preuent that shee should cut her owne throatt. Shee, hearing this sentence and holding it definitive, in great agony and horror of minde and conscience fell a rauing, crying out that the irreuocable Iudgement of her death was giuen, and that shee was damned perpetually; cursing and banning the time wherein shee was borne, and the houre wherein shee was conceiued." A short time after "shee made good the Deuil's worde, and to preuent the Iustice of the Law, and to saue the hangman a labour, cut her owne throate." The poor boy was in great misery when he heard of his mother's death, and knew now that what despair had done for her, the tyranny of superstition would do for him; yet "he stood out stiffly for his innocence," and when found guilty, broke out into grievous cries, saying that he had now found the Law to have a power above Justice, for that it had condemned an Innocent. At the gallows he said the same thing, refusing to confess to Martha Aspine's murder, and "thus with a dissembling Tongue, and a corrupted conscience, hee ended his course in this world, with little hope or respect (as it seemed) of the world to come." What became of his three familiars, Grissil, Ball, and Jack, we are not informed, neither of what forms or functions they were, nor of what colours or dimensions. Grievously did Mistress Moulsho offend Ellen Jenkinson, when she caused her to be searched for witch-marks, which of course were found; for Helen's character was notorious, and there is no smoke without a little fire. So Helen, in revenge, played Mistress Moulsho a trick that brought herself to the gallows. For "at that time Mistris Moulsho had a Bucke of clothes to be washt out. The next morning, the Mayd, when shee came to hang them forth to dry, spyed the Cloathes, but especially Mistris Moulsho's Smocke, to bee all bespotted with the pictures of Toades, Snakes, and other ougly Creatures, which making her agast, she went presently and told her mistris, who, looking on them, smild, saying nothing else but this: 'Here are fine Hobgoblins indeede.' And being a Gentlewoman of a stout courage, went immediately to the house of the sayd Hellen Ienkinson, and with an angry countenance told her of this matter, threatening her that if her Linnen were not shortly cleered from those foule spots shee would scratch out both her eyes; and so not staying for any answere, went home and found her linnen as white as it was at first." Helen was soon after arraigned for the death of a child, by witchcraft, but this story of Mrs. Moulsho's clothes all bespotted with the figures of toads and snakes stood in the stead of any more rational evidence. When found guilty, the poor creature cried out, "Woe is me, I now cast away!" And when at the place of execution, she "made no other Confession but this. That shee was guiltlesse, and neuer shewed signe of Contrition for what was past, nor any sorrow at all, more than did accompany the feare of death. Thus ended this Woman her miserable life, after shee had lived many yeares poore, wretched, scorned, and forsaken of the world." Of Mary Barber, the last of the sad crew hanged at Northampton on those bloody assizes, the author gives no special account, but plenty of abuse, mixed up with the strangely cruel and immoral morality of the day. He says that "as shee was of meane Parents, so was she monstrous and hideous both in her life and actions. Her education and barbarous Nature neuer promising to the world anything but what was rude, violent, and without any hope of proportion more than only in the square of uitiousnesse. For out of the oblyuion and blindnesse of her seduced senses, she gaue way to all the passionate and earthly faculties of the flesh, and followed all the Fantazmas Vanities and Chimeras of her polluted and vnreasonable delights, forsaking the Society of Grace, and growing enamored vpon all the euill that Malice or Frenzy could minister to her vicious desires and intendments." She was put in prison on the charge of bewitching a man to death, but "the prison (which makes men bee fellowes and chambermates with theeves and murtherers) the common guests of such dispised Innes, and should cause the Imprisoned Party (like a Christian Arithmetician) to number and cast vp the amount of his own Life, neuer put her in minde of the hatefull transgressions shee had committed, and to consider the filth and leprosie of her soule, and intreate heaven's mercy for the release thereof. Prison put her not in minde of her graue, nor the grates and lockes put her in remembrance of hell, which depriued her of the ioy of liberty, which shee saw others possesse. The iangling of irons did not put her in minde of the chaines wherewith shee should be bound in eternall torments, vnlesse heaven's mercy vnloosed them, nor of the howling terrors and gnashing of teeth which in hel euery soule shall receiue for the particular offences committed in this life, without vnfained and hearty contrition. Shee neuer remembered or thought shee must die, or trembled for feare of what should come to her after death. But as her use was alwaies knowne to be deuilish, so her death was at last found to be desperate. For shee (and the rest before named) being brought from the common gaole of Northampton to Northampton Castle, where the Assizes are vsually held, were seuerally arraigned and indited for the offences they had formerly committed, but to the inditement they pleaded not guilty. Putting therefore their causes to the triall of the Countrey, they were found guilty, and deserved death by the verdit of a credible Iury returned. So without any confession or contrition, like birds of a feather they all held and hangd together for company at Abington gallowes hard by Northampton the two and twintieth day of Iuly last past; Leauing behinde them in prison many others tainted with the same corruption, who without much mercy and repentance are likely to follow them in the same tract of Precedencie." THE WITCHES OF LANCASHIRE.[114] In Pendle Forest, a wild tract of land on the borders of Yorkshire, lived an old woman about the age of fourscore, who had been a witch for fifty years, and had brought up her own children, and instructed her grandchildren, to be witches. "She was a generall agent for the Deuill in all these partes;" her name was Elizabeth Southernes, usually called Mother Demdike; the date of her arraignment 1612. She was the first tried of this celebrated "coven," twenty of whom stood before Sir James Altham and Sir Edward Bromley, charged with all the crimes lying in sorcery, magic, and witchcraft. Old Mother Demdike died in prison before her trial, but on her being taken before the magistrate who convicted them all, Roger Nowell, Esq., she made such a confession as effectually insured her due share of execration, and hedged in the consciences of all who had assailed her from any possible pangs of self-reproach or doubt. About fifty years ago, she said, she was returning home from begging, when, near a stone pit in the Pendle Forest, she met a spirit or devil in the shape of a boy, with one half of his coat brown and the other half black, who said to her, if she would give him her soul, she should have all that she might desire. After a little further talk, during which he told her that his name was Tibb, he vanished away, and she saw him no more for this time. For five or six years Mother Demdike never asked any kind of help or harm of Tibb, who always came to her at "daylight gate" (twilight); but one Sabbath morning, she having her little child on her knee, and being in a light slumber, Tibb came to her in the likeness of a brown dog, and forced himself on her knee, trying to get blood from under her left arm. Mother Demdike awoke sore troubled and amazed, and strove to say, "Jesus, save my child," but could not, neither could she say, "Jesus, save myself." In a short time the brown dog vanished away, and she was "almost starke madde for the space of eight weekes." She and Tibb had never done much harm, she said; not even to Richard Baldwin, for all that he had put them off his land, and taken her daughter's day's work at his mill without fee or reward, and when she, led by her grandchild Alison (for she was quite blind), went to ask for pay, gave them only hard words and insolence for their pains, saying, "he would burn the one, and hang the other," and bidding them begone for a couple of witches--and worse. She confessed though, after a little pressing, that at that moment Tibb called out to her, "Revenge thee of him!" to whom she answered, "Revenge thou either of him or his!" on which he vanished away, and she saw him no more. She would not say what was the vengeance done, or if any. But if she was silent, and not prone to confession, there were others, and those of her own blood, not so reticent. Elizabeth Device her daughter, and Alison and James and Jennet Device, her grandchildren, testified against her and each other in a wonderful manner, and filled up all the blanks in the most masterly and graphic style. Alison said that her grandmother had seduced her to the service of the devil, by giving her a great black dog as her imp or spirit, with which dog she had lamed one John Law, a petit chapman or pedlar, as he was going through Colnefield with his pack at his back. Alison wanted to buy pins of him, but John Law refused to loose his pack or sell them to her; so Alison in a rage called for her black dog, to see if revenge could not do what fair words had failed in. When the black dog came he said, "What wouldst thou have me to do with yonder man?" To whom she answered, "What canst thou do at him?" and the dog answered again, "I can lame him." "Lame him," says Alison Device; and before the pedlar went forty yards he fell lame. When questioned, he, on his side, said, that as he was going through Colnefield he met a big black dog with very fearful fiery eyes, great teeth, and a terrible countenance, which looked at him steadily then passed away; and immediately after he was bewitched into lameness and deformity. And this took place after having met Alison Device and refused to sell her any pins. Then Alison fell to weeping and praying, beseeching God and that worshipful company to pardon her sins. She said further that her grandmother had bewitched John Nutter's cow to death, and Richard Baldwin's woman-child on account of the quarrel before reported, saying that she would pray for Baldwin himself, "both still and loud," and that she was always after some matter of devilry and enchantment, if not for the bad of others then for the good of herself. For once, Alison got a piggin full of blue milk by begging, and when she came to look into it, she found a quarter of a pound of butter there, which was not there before, and which she verily believed old Mother Demdike had procured by her enchantments. Then Alison turned against the rival Hecate, Anne Whittle, _alias_ Chattox, between whom and her family raged a deadly feud with Mother Demdike and her family; accusing her of having bewitched her father, John Device, to death, because he had neglected to pay her the yearly tax of an aghen dole (eight pounds) of meal, which he had covenanted to give her on consideration that she would not harm him. For they had been robbed, these poor people, of a quarter of a peck of cut oatmeal and linens worth some twenty shillings, and they had found a coif and band belonging to them on Anne Whittle's daughter; so John Device was afraid that old Chattox would do them some grievous injury by her sorceries if they cried out about it, therefore made that covenant for the aghen dole of meal, the non-payment of which for one year set Chattox free from her side of the bargain and cost John's life. She said, too, that Chattox had bewitched sundry persons and cattle, killing John Nutter's cow because he, John Nutter, had kicked over her canfull of milk, misliking her devilish way of placing two sticks across it; and slaying Anne Nutter because she laughed and mocked at her; slaying John Morris' child, too, by a picture of clay--with other misdeeds to be hereafter verified and substantiated. So Alison Device was hanged, weeping bitterly, and very penitent. James Device, her brother, testified to meeting a brown dog coming from his grandmother's about a month ago, and to hearing a noise as of a number of children shrieking and crying, "near daylight gate." Another time he heard a foul yelling as of a multitude of cats, and soon after this there came into his bed a thing like a cat or a hare, and coloured black, which lay heavily on him for about an hour. He said that his sister Alison had bewitched Bullock's child, and that old Mother Chattox had dug up three skulls, and taken out eight teeth, four of which she kept for herself and gave four to Mother Demdike; and that Demdike had made a picture of clay of Anne Nutter, and had burned it, by which the said Anne had been bewitched to death. Also she had bewitched to death one Mitton, because he would not give her a penny; with other iniquities of the same sort. He said that his mother, Elizabeth Device, had a spirit like a brown dog called Ball, and that they all met at Malking Tower; all the witches of Pendle--and they were not a few--going out in their own shapes, and finding foals of different colours ready for their riding when they got out: Jennet Preston was the last: when they all vanished. He then confessed, for his own part, that his grandmother Demdike told him not to eat the communion bread one day when he went to church, but to give it to the first thing he met on the road on his way homewards. He did not obey her, but ate the bread as a good Christian should; and on the way he met with a thing like a hare which asked him for the bread; but he said he had not got it; whereupon the hare got very angry and threatened to tear him in pieces, but James "sained" himself, and the devil vanished. This, repeated in various forms, was about the pith of what James Device confessed, his confession not including any remarkable betrayal of himself, or admission of any practical and positive evil. His young sister Jennet, a little lassie of nine, supplied the deficiencies. She had evidently been suborned, says Wright, and gave evidence enough to have hanged half Lancashire. She said that James had sold himself to the devil, and that his spirit was a black dog called Dandy, by whom he had bewitched many people to death; and she confirmed what he had said of Jennet Preston's spirit, which was a white foal with a black spot in its forehead. And then she said that she had seen the witches' meetings, but had taken no part in them; and that on Good Friday they had all dined off a roasted wether which James had stolen from Christian Swyers; and that John Bulcocke turned the spit. She said that her mother Elizabeth had taught her two prayers, the one to get drink and the other to cure the bewitched. The one to get drink was a very short one, simply--"Crucifixus, hoc signum vitam eternam, Amen;" but this would bring good drink into the house in a very strange manner. The other, the prayer to cure the bewitched, was longer:-- "Vpon Good Friday, I will fast while I may, Vntill I heare them knell, Our Lord's owne Bell, Lord in his messe With his twelve Apostles good, What hath he in his hand? Ligh in[115] Leath[116] wand: What hath he in his other hand? Heauen's doore key. Open, open, Heauen doore keyes, Steck, steck, hell doore. Let Crizum[117] child Go to it Mother mild. What is yonder that casts a light so farrandly?[118] Mine owne deare Sone that's nail'd to the Tree, He is nail'd sore by the heart and hand, And holy harne Panne.[119] Well is that man That Fryday spell can, His Childe to learne A Crosse of Blewe, and another of Red, As good Lord was to the Roode. Gabriel laid him downe to sleepe Vpon the grounde[120] of holy weepe; Good Lord came walking by, Sleep'st thou, wak'st thou, Gabriel? No, Lord, I am sted with stick and stake, That I can neither sleepe nor wake: Rise vp, Gabriel, and goe with me, The stick nor the stake shall neuer deere[121] thee, Sweete Jesus our Lorde. Amen." On such conclusive testimony as this, and for such fearful crimes, James Device was condemned for "as dangerous and malicious a witch as ever lived in these parts of Lancashire, of his time, and spotted with as much Innocent bloud as euer any witch of his yeares." Poor lad! "O Barbarous and inhumane Monster, beyond example; so farre from sensible vnderstanding of thy owne miserie as to bring thy owne naturall children into mischiefe and bondage, and thyselfe to be a witnesse vpone the gallowes, to see thy owne children, by thy deuillish instructions, hatcht vp in villanie and witchcraft, to suffer with thee, euen in the beginning of their time, a shamefull and untimely Death!" These are the words which Thomas Potts addresses to Elizabeth Device, widow of John the bewitched, daughter to old Demdike the "rankest hag that ever troubled daylight," and mother of Alison and James the confessing witches; mother, also, of young Jennet of nine, their accuser and hers, by whose testimony she was mainly condemned. Elizabeth was charged with having bewitched sundry people to death, by means and aid of her spirit, the brown dog Ball, spoken of by James; also she had gone to the Sabbath held at Malking Tower, where they had assembled to consult how they could get old Mother Demdike, their leader, out of prison, by killing her gaoler and blowing up the castle, and where they had beef and bacon and roasted mutton--the mutton that same wether of Christopher Swyers' of Barley, which James had stolen and killed; with other things as damnable and insignificant. So Elizabeth Device, "this odious witch, who was branded with a preposterous marke in Nature even from her Birth, which was her left Eye standing lower than the other, the one looking down the other looking up," was condemned to die because she was poor and ugly, and had a little lying jade for a daughter, who made up fine stories for the gentlefolks. Anne Whittle, _alias_ Chattox, was next in influence, power, and age to Mother Demdike, and she began her confession by saying that old Demdike had originally seduced her by giving her the devil in the shape and proportion of a man, who got her, body and soul, and sucked on her left ribs, and was called Fancie. Afterwards she had another spirit like a spotted bitch, called Tibbe, who gave them all to eat and to drink, and said they should have gold and silver as much as they wanted. But they never got the gold and silver at all, and what they ate and drank did not satisfy them. "This Anne Whittle, _alias_ Chattox, was a very old withered, spent, decrepid creature, her Sight almost gone; A dangerous Witch of very long continuance; always opposite to old Demdike; For whom the one fauoured the other hated deadly: and how they curse and accuse one an other in their Examinations may appear. In her Witchcraft always more ready to doe mischiefe to men's goods than themselves; Her lippes ever chattering and talking; but no man knew what. She lived in the Forrest of Pendle amongst this wicked Company of dangerous Witches. Yet in her Examination and Confession she dealt always very plainely and truely; for vpon a speciall occasion, being oftentimes examined in open Court, she was neuer found to vary, but alwayes to agree in one and the selfe same thing. I place her in order next to that wicked Firebrand of mischiefe, old Demdike, because from these two sprung all the rest in order; and even the Children and Friendes of these two notorious Witches." Nothing special or very graphic was elicited about old Chattox. She had certainly bewitched to death sundry of the neighbourhood, lately deceased; but then they all did that; and her devil, Fancie, came to her in various shapes--sometimes like a bear, gaping as though he would worry her, which was not a pleasant manner of fulfilling his contract--but generally as a man, in whom she took great delight. She confessed to a charm for blessing forespoken drink; which she had chanted for John Moore's wife, she said, whose beer had been spoilt by Mother Demdike or some of her crew:-- "Three Biters hast thou bitten, The Hart, ill Eye, ill Tonge; Three Bitter shall be thy boote, Father, Sonne, and Holy Ghost, a God's Name Fiue Paternosters, fiue Auies, and a Creede, For worship of fiue woundes of our Lord." Of course there was no help or hope for old Chattox if she said such wicked things as these. The righteous justice of England must be satisfied, and Anne Whittle was hung--one of the twelve who sorrowed the sunlight in Lancaster on that bloody assize. Her daughter, Ann Redfearne, was then taken, accused of making pictures of clay and other maleficent arts; and she, too, was hanged; and then well-born, well-bred, but unfortunate Alice Nutter--a gentlewoman of fortune living at Rough Lee, whose relatives were anxious for her death that they might come into some property, out of which she kept them while living, and between whom and Mr. Justice Nowell there was a long-standing grudge on the question of a boundary-line between their several properties--Alice Nutter, whom one would have thought far removed from any such possibility, was accused by young Jennet of complicity and companionship, and put upon her trial with but a faint chance of escape behind her. For Elizabeth Device swore that she had joined with her and old Demdike in bewitching the man Mitton, because of that twopence so fatally refused; and young Jennet swore that she was one of the party who went on many-coloured foals to the great witch meeting at Malking Tower; and so poor Alice Nutter, of Rough Lee, the well-born, well-bred gentlewoman, was hanged with the rest of that ragged crew; and her relations stood in her place, quite satisfied with their dexterity. Then there was Katherine Hewitt, _alias_ Mouldheels, accused by James Device, who seemed to think that if he had to be hanged for nothing he would be hanged in brave company, and, by sharing with as many as could be found, lessen the obloquy he could not escape; and John Bulcocke, who turned the spit, and Jane his mother, for the same crimes and on the same testimony; for the added crime, too, of helping in the bewitching of Master Leslie, about which nefarious deed other hands were also busy; and Margaret Pearson, delated by Chattox as entertaining a man spirit cloven-footed, with whom she went by a loophole into Dodson's stable, and sat all night, on his mare until it died. She was also accused by Jennet Booth, who went into her house and begged some milk for her child; Margaret good-naturedly gave her some, and boiled it in a pan, but all her reward was, that Jennet accused her of witchcraft, for there was, said she, a toad, or something very like a toad, at the bottom of the pan when the milk was boiled, which Margaret took up with a pair of tongs and carried out of the house. Of course the toad was an imp, and Jennet Booth was quite right to repay an act of neighbourly generosity by accusation and slander. Margaret got off with standing in the pillory in open market, at four market towns on four market days, bearing a paper on her head setting forth her offence written in great letters, about which there could be no mistake; after which she was to confess, and afterwards be taken to prison, where she was to lie for a year, and then be only released when good and responsible sureties would come forward to answer for her good behaviour. And there was Isabel Roby, who bewitched Peter Chaddock for jilting her, and in the spirit pinched and buffeted Jane Williams, so that she fell sick with the impression of a thumb and four fingers on her thigh; and Jennet Preston, she who had the white foal spirit, and who was afterwards hung at York for the murder of Master Thomas Lister--for Master Thomas in his last illness had been for ever crying out that Jennet Preston was lying on him, and when she was brought to see the body it gushed out fresh blood on her, which settled all doubts, if haply there had been any. So the famous trial of the Pendle Witches came to an end; and of the twenty who were accused twelve were hanged while the rest escaped only for the present, many of them meeting with their doom a few years afterwards. GRACE SOWERBUTS AND THE PRIESTS.[122] At the same time and place, namely, "at the Assizes and Generall Gaole-delivery, holden at Lancaster, before Sir Edward Bromley," old Jennet Bierly, Ellen Bierly her daughter-in-law, and Jane Southworth, were accused by Grace Sowerbuts of bewitching her, so that her "bodie wasted and was consumed." Grace was fourteen years old--a very ripe time for bewitchment and possession--and her evidence ran that for some years past she had been fearfully tormented by these women, for that "they did violently draw her by the Haire of the Head, and layd her on the toppe of a Hay-mowe;" and that Jennet Bierly appeared to her, first under her own shape and form, then as a black dog, and that as she was going over a style "she picked her off," but did not hurt her much, for soon she was enabled to rouse herself up, and go on her way without any great damage. But often the women came to her as black dogs, tempting her to cast herself into the water, or dragging her into the hay-loft where they covered her with hay on her head and with straw on her body, they, the black dogs, lying on the top of the straw till they took away all sense and feeling and she knew not where she was; and oft they "carried her where they met black things like men that danced with them and did abuse their bodies, and they brought her to one Thomas Walsham's House in the Night, and there they killed his Child, by putting a Nail into the Navil, and after took it forth of the Grave, and did boil it, and eat some of it, and made Oyl of the bones; and such like horrid lies," says honest Webster, indignantly. But fortunately for the three accused, Grace Sowerbuts was a popish pet, and suspected of decided papistical leanings; and it was said that she was put up to all this by one Thomson, a popish priest, whose real name was Southworth, and who was a relation of old Sir John Southworth the great popish lord of the district; to whom also Jane, one of the accused, was a near relative, but a hated enemy, as is often the case--Sir John having been known to ride miles round to avoid passing by her house. Jane Southworth was a Protestant and a convert, therefore likely to receive the protection of public opinion in those parts; likely, too, to be doubly hated by her relative, first for herself, and secondly for her apostacy. So Grace Sowerbuts, an excitable young maid with but a slender regard to truth, was hit upon as the person best fitted to carry confusion into the enemy's camp, and it was resolved to prove her bewitched by the devilish arts of the two Bierlys and the popish recusant. But Sir Edward Bromley, who cared nothing for the protestations of the Pendle witches, and hung every one of them with the most placid belief that he was doing a just and righteous work, gave a very different countenance to these Samesbury witches, all of whom would have been strung up like dogs had not the taint of papistry rested on Grace and her supporters. Leading her quietly to a denial of all she had asserted, Sir Edward got her to confess that she was an impostor, and that every article of her accusation was a lie and a fallacy from beginning to end. She had never known nor seen any devils; she had never been cast upon the henroof nor upon the hay-mow, but when she was found there she had gone of her own accord, and had covered herself with hay and straw to better prove the witches' despite against her; she knew nothing of any child done to death by nails in its body; and all that she had said about the bones, and the oil, and the tender flesh roasted at the fire, was as false as the rest. She had never been possessed, but had flung herself into these fits by her own will and independent power; and what she did in them was a mere trick, which she could show their worships if they liked. In short, Grace Sowerbuts was forced to play the losing game in as masterly a manner as might be, and to own herself a cheat and an impostor while yet there was time for pardon. So the three Samesbury witches got off with a stern exhortation from the judge, who scarcely seemed to relish the release of even Protestant witches delated by papistical accusers. MARY AND HER CATS.[123] Mary Smith of Lynn, wife of Henry Smith, glover, was envious of her neighbours for their greater skill in making cheese: in the midst of her discontents, and while her mind, by its passion and evil thoughts, was in a fit condition for the devil to enter therein, Satan came to her as a black man, provoking her in a "lowe murmuring and hissing Voyce," to forsake God and follow him; to which she "condescended" in express terms. The devil then constantly appeared to her--sometimes as a mist; sometimes as a ball of fire, with dispersed spangles of black; but chiefly as a black man; and sometimes as a horned man, in which shape he came to her when in prison. Mary was a good hand at banning. She cursed John Orkton, and wished his fingers might rot off, and they did so; she cursed Elizabeth Hancock, whom she accused of stealing her hen, wishing that the bones might stick in her throat, calling her a "prowde linny, prowde flurts, and shaking the hand bade her go in, for she should repent it;" and incontinently Elizabeth Hancock was taken with a pinching at the heart, and sudden weakness of all her body, and fainting fits, and racking pains, and madness, and raving, so that she tore the hair off her head as she tossed about distracted. Her father went to a wise man, who showed him Mary Smith's face in a glass, and bade him make a cake according to certain directions, which then he was to lay, half on Bessie's head and half on her back, and which would infallibly cure her, as she was not ill but bewitched. The father did so, and the daughter mended. Soon after this she married one James Scot, who, having a mortal hatred against Mary Smith, killed her cat, and threatened that if his wife had any such fits as she had before they married, he would hang Mary Smith without mercy. At this Mary clapped her hands, and cried "They had killed her cat!" and the next day Elizabeth had the old nipping round her heart. So James went to Mary and said he would most certainly take her before the magistrates, if she did not amend her ways and heal his wife at once. Fortunately for Mary the woman got better, and the evil day was staved off for a time. To Cecily Balye, the maid-servant next door, she sent her cat to sit upon her breast when she slept, in revenge at the maid's sweeping a little dust awry; and Cicely gave awful evidence how, through the thin partition which divided them, she used to see Mary Smith adoring her imp in a submissive manner--down on her knees, using strange gestures and uttering many murmuring and broken speeches; and if she had listened, and looked more attentively, she might have seen and heard more: "but she was with the present spectacle so affrighted, that she hurried away in much feare and distemper." "The fourth endammaged by this Hagge," says Roberts, was one Edmund Newton. He was a cheesemonger, like herself, and she thought he got the best of the trade; so she, or her imp in her likeness, came to him as he was lying in bed, and "whisked about his face a wet cloath of very loathsome savour; after which he did see one clothed in russet, with a little bush beard, who told him he was sent to looke vpon his sore legge, and would heale it." When Newton rose to take a fairer look, he saw that the russet man with a little bush beard had cloven feet, so refused his offer of chirurgery. After this Mary was constantly sending her imps to him--a toad and crabs--which crawled about the house, "which was a shoppe planchered with boords, where his seruants (hee being a shoo maker) did worke;" and one of them took the toad and flung it into the fire, during which time the witch was grievously tormented. So nothing would serve Edmund Newton's turn but he must "scratch her;" yet when he strove to do so his nails turned like feathers, and he had no power over her, not even to raise the skin so much as a nine weeks' old babe might have done. At another time a great water-dog ran over his bed--the chamber door being shut--and he fell lame in his hand, and did not recover the use of it again. And then the law interfered, and Mary Smith was brought before the magistrates to answer to the charge of witchcraft--by them committed to the assizes--found guilty by judge and jury--and hanged by the neck till she was dead, as a warning to the time and her own kind. This murder was done 1616. RUTTERKIN.[124] The Earl and Countess of Rutland had shown much kindness to the widow Joan Flower, and her two daughters Philip and Margaret. Joan and Philip were employed at the castle pretty constantly as charwomen, and Margaret was taken into the castle itself, "looking both to the poultrey abroad and the washhouse within doores," and evidently a great favourite with my Lady, who trusted her much. Their good fortune raised them up a host of enemies, as is always the case; and backbiters went with tales to the Lord and Lady, saying, "First, that Ioane Flower the Mother was a monstrous malicious woman, full of oathes, curses, and imprecations, irreligious, and, for any thing they saw by her, a plaine Atheist; besides of late days her very countenance was estranged, her eyes were fiery and hollow, her speech fell and enuious, her demeanour strange and exoticke, and her conuersation sequestered; so that the whole course of her life gaue great suspition that she was a notorious witch, yea some of her neighbours dared to affirme that she dealt with familiar Spirits, and terrified them all with curses and threatening of reuenge, if there were neuer so little cause of displeasure and vnkindnesse. Concerning Margaret, that she often resorted from the Castle to her Mother, bringing such Provision as they thought was vnbefitting for a seruant to purloyne, and coming at such unseasonable houres, that they could not but coniecture some mischeife between them, and that their extraordinary ryot and expences tended both to rob the Lady, and to maintaine certaine deboist and base company which frequented this Ioane Flower's house the mother, and especially her youngest Daughter. Concerning Philip that she was lewdly transported with the loue of one Th. Simpson, who presumed to say, that she had bewitched him: for he had no power to leaue, and was as he supposed maruellously altered both in minde and body, since her acquainted company: these complaints began many yeares before either their conuiction or publique apprehension: Notwithstanding such was the honour of this Earle and his Lady; such was the cunning of this monstrous woman in her obseruation towards them; such was the subtilty of the Diuell to bring his purposes to passe; such was the pleasure of God to make tryall of his seruants; and such was the effect of a damnable womans wit and malitious enuy, that all things were carried away in the smooth Channell of liking and good entertainment on euery side, untill the Earle by degrees conceiued some mislike against; and so peraduenture estranged himself from that familiarity and accustomed conferences he was wont to haue with her; untill one Peate offered her some wrong; against whom she complained, but found that my Lord did affect her clamours and malicious information, vntill one Mr. Vauasor abandoned her company, as either suspicious of her lewd life, or distasted with his oun misliking of such base and poore Creatures, whom nobody loued but the Earle's household; vntill the Countesse misconceiuing of her daughter Margaret and discovering some vndecencies both in her life and neglect of her businesse, discharged her from lying any more in the Castle, yet gave her 40_s._, a bolster, and a mattresse of wooll; commanding her to go home vntill the slacknesse of her repayring to the Castle, as she was wont, did turne her loue and liking toward this honourable Earle and his family into hate and rancor; wherevpon despighted to bee so neglected, and exprobated by her neighbours for her Daughters casting out of doores, and other conceiued displeasures, she grew past all shame and womanhood, and many times cursed them all that were the cause of this discontentment, and made her so loathsome to her former familiar friends and beneficial acquaintance." Things being come to this pass, it was not difficult to persuade the Earl and his Countess that, when their eldest son Henry, Lord Ross, sickened very strangely, and after a while died,--when their second son Francis was also tortured by a strange sickness--and the Lady Katherine their daughter was in danger of her life "through extreame maladies and vnusuall fits"--it was all done by Joan Flower's witchcraft, and that the quickest way out of their troubles was to arrest the widow and her two daughters and see what could be done with them, both by their own confessions and the neighbours' relations. They were arrested accordingly, and carried before the magistrates where witnesses were not awanting. The first evidence given was that of Philip Flower, sister to Margaret, and daughter of poor old Joan. On the 4th of February she confessed that her mother and sister "maliced" the Earl of Rutland, his countess, and their children, because they were put out of the Castle; wherefore her sister Margaret, by desire of her mother, got Lord Henry's right-hand glove which she found on the rushes in the nursery, and delivered it to Joan, who presently rubbed it on the back of her spirit Rutterkin, bidding him "height and goe and doe some hurt to Henry Lord Rosse," then put it into boiling water, pricking it many times with a knife, and burying it in the yard with a wish that Lord Henry might never thrive. Whereupon he fell sick and shortly after died. She also said that she often saw the spirit Rutterkin leap on her sister Margaret's shoulder and suck her neck, and that her mother had often cursed the earl and his lady, and boiled feathers and blood together, "vsing many Deuillish speeches and strange gestures." On the 22nd of the same month Margaret was examined, and she also gave no trouble. She confessed that truly she had got Lord Henry's glove, and that her mother had done with it in all particulars of stroking Rutterkin's back, and putting it into boiling water, and pricking, and burying it, according to the words of Philip; also that some two or three years ago she had found a glove of the Lord Francis', which her mother rubbed on Rutterkin the cat and bade him go upward, and which, by her incantations and sorceries, caused a grievous illness to light on the little nobleman. And she got a piece of Lady Katherine's handkercher, which her mother put into hot water, "and then taking it out rubbed it on Rutterkin, bidding him 'flye and go;' whereupon Rutterkin whined and cryed 'Mew,'" and the mother said he had no power over Lady Katherine to hurt her. A few days later both sisters were examined again, when Philip confessed that she had a spirit which sucked her in the form of a white rat, and which she had entertained for the space of two or three years, on condition that it should cause Thomas Simpson to love her; and Margaret allowed that she had two spirits, one white, the other black-spotted, to whom she had given her soul, they covenanting to do all that she commanded them. Then she rambled off into a wild statement of how on the thirtieth of January last, she, being in Lincoln gaol, four devils appeared to her at eleven or twelve o'clock at night; the one stood at her bed's foot, and had a black head like an ape, and spake unto her; but what she could not well remember; at which she was very angry that he would not speak plainer and let her understand his meaning. She said that the other three were Rutterkin, Little Robin, and Spirit, "but shee never mistrusted them nor suspected herselfe till then." This closed the examinations of the two younger women: for poor old Joan had died on her way to gaol "with a horrible excruciation of soul and body," and so an end was come to of her. But if there was nothing more to be got out of the Flower family, their neighbours were not backward to help them with a bad word, when handy. Anne Baker, evidently mad, Joan Willimot, and Ellen Greene, were brought to say their say in the face of the country and before the county justices. Joan Willimott gave evidence that Joan Flower had oftentimes complained to her of the unfriendly conduct of my Lord of Rutland, in turning her daughter out of the house, adding that though she could not have her will of my Lord himself, she had spied his son and stricken him to the heart--stricken him with a white spirit, which yet could be cured if she so willed. Joan Willimott then "fyled" herself for a witch, saying that she had a spirit called Pretty, given to her by her master, William Berry of Langholme, in Rutlandshire, whom she had served three years. When he gave it to her, he bade her open her mouth and he would blow into her a Fairy which should do her good; and she did so; and he blew into her mouth, and presently after there came out of her mouth a spirit which stood upon the ground in the shape and form of a woman, and asked of her her soul--which Joan granted--being willed thereto by her master. She did not own to having ever hurt anyone, but said instead that she had helped divers who had been stricken and forespoken, and that the use she made of her spirit was to know how those did whom she had undertaken to mend. She said, too, that her spirit came to her last night, in the form of a woman mumbling something, but she could not understand what; and that she was not asleep, but was as waking as at this present. On another occasion she fyled two of her neighbours, saying how Cooke's wife had said that John Patchet might have had his child alive, if he had asked for it, insinuating that Cooke's wife had forespoken the said child, and that Patchet's wife had an evil thing within her, and she knew it by her girdle. Also that Gamaliel Greete, of Waltham, had a spirit like a white mouse put into him in his swearing, and that those on whom he looked with intent to hurt were hurt; and that he had a mark on his left arm, which had been cut away; and that her own spirit had told her all this. And that she, and Joan, and Margaret Flower, had met in Blackborrow hill, the week before Joan's apprehension; and that she had seen in Joan's house two spirits, the one like a rat, and the other like an owl, and that one of them had sucked under her left ear--as she thought; and that Joan Flower said her spirits had informed her she should be neither burnt nor hanged. On this same day Ellen Green gave in her account, saying that some six years since Joan Willimott had come to her in the wolds, persuading her to forsake God and betake her to the devil, and she would give her two spirits: which this Examinate consented unto. Whereupon Joan called two spirits, one in the likeness of a "kittin," the other of a "moldiwarp," the first of which was called "pusse," and the second "hiffe hiffe;" and they leapt on her shoulder, and sucked her. And that she sent the kittin to a baker in the town who had offended her, but whose name she had forgotten, and bade it bewitch him to death; and the moldiwarp she despatched to Ann Dawse, for the same purpose and the same offence. And of other deaths by the like means did Ellen Green accuse herself; adding that Joan Willimott's spirit was in the form of a white dog, and that she had seen it suck her in Barley harvest last. And then came mad Ann Baker, who started with informing her audience that there are four colours of planets, black, yellow, green, and blue, and that black is always death, and that she saw the blue planet strike William Fairbairn's son, but when William Fairbairn did beat her and break her head, his said son Thomas did mend. Yet she sent not the blue planet. She said that she saw a hand appear to her, and a voice in the air say, "Anne Baker, save thyself, for to-morrow thou and thy maister must be slain;" and that the next day, as she and her master were together in a cart, suddenly she saw a flash of fire, but when she said her prayers the fire went away, and then a crow came and pecked her clothes; whereat she said her prayers again, and bade the crow go to whom it was sent, "and the Crow went vnto her Maister and did beat him to death, and shee with her prayers recouered him to life: but he was sick a fortnight after and saith that if shee had not had more knowledge than her Maister, both he and shee and all the Cattell had beene slaine." The rest of her confessions turned upon the histories of the various deaths and bewitchments with which she was charged, and most of which she denied; saying, that she had merely lain Ann Stannidge's child on her skirt, but had done it no harm, and that when the mother had burnt the little one's hair and nail parings, and she, Ann Baker, had gone in to the house in great pain and suffering, she knew nothing whatever of this burning, but that she was sick and knew not whither she went. Of the Rutland case all she knew was, that when she came back from Northamptonshire, whither she had gone three years ago, two good wives had told her that my young Lord Henry was dead, and that there was a glove of the said Lord buried underground, and that "as his glove did rot and wast, so did the liver of the young Lord rot and wast;" and that her spirit was a good spirit and in the shape of a white dog. The tract does not inform us what was done with these three wretched women. The two Flowers were hanged, the old mother having died as I have said: but whether the untimely death of a sickly lad was revenged by more innocent blood than this remains unknown. The death-sacrifices of savages, the witches of Africa, and the Red Indian "Medicine-men," are not so very far removed from our own forefathers that we should quite ignore the likeness between them and the recent past at home. THE BOY OF BILSTON.[125] The war between Papists and Protestants still went on, and the favourite weapon with each was the old one of Possession, and its result--exorcism. The patient in the present case was William Perry, a youth of twelve, generally called the Boy of Bilston, whom Joan Cock bewitched for the better showing forth the glory of God and the Church, and to the hurt of her own soul and body. One day William Perry met old Joan as he returned from school, and forbore to give her good time of the day, as a well-bred youth should: whereat the old woman was angry, and called him "a foul thing," saying "that it had been better for him if he had saluted her." At which words the boy felt something prick him to his heart, and when he came home fell into fits of the most demoniac kind. The parents seeing his extremity went cap and knee to some Catholics in the neighbourhood, and they, after long solicitation, proceeded to the exorcising. They poured holy water and holy oil in goodly quantity upon him, and left supplies of both to be used in their absence. The devil was sore afflicted by the holy water and the holy oil, and made the boy cast up pins, and wool, and knotted thread, and rosemary leaves, and walnut leaves, and feathers, and "thrums." For there were three devils inside him, he said, and they had uncommon power. On Corpus Christi day he brought up eleven pins, and a knitting needle folded in divers folds; all after extreme fits and heavings; and then the spirit told him not to listen to the exorcising priest--which was a great compliment from the devil--and that the witch had said she would make an end of him. When told to pray for the witch, the boy and the devils were furious; but afterwards calmed down on the exorciser getting extra power; and then the boy prayed his prayer and grew better. Then he demanded that everything about him should be blessed, and that all his family should be Catholics; but when any Puritans came in, he said the devil assaulted him in the shape of a black bird. So it was a vastly pretty little case of witness and conversion, and the Catholics made the most of it. Joan must now be arrested; for the fits continued, and the young gentleman was not to be pacified with anything short of the witch's blood. When brought into his presence the boy had extreme fits, crying out: "'Now she comes, now my Tormentor comes!' writhing and tearing and twisting himself into such Shapes as bred at once Amazement and Pity in the Spectators:" so the old woman was sent to Stafford gaol, but, because this was a Popish matter, acquitted without long delay. Then the Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, desirous of testing the matter, and unwilling that the Catholics should take any glory to themselves for their holy oils and their anointings which were said to have calmed the most "sounding fits," took William Perry home to the Castle, and there had him watched: and watched so well that certain dirty tricks not to be spoken of here were found out, and the physiological part of the "miracle" set at rest. But before this the Bishop tried the devils with Greek. For they could not abide the first verse of the first chapter of St. John, and always fell on the boy with fury when it was read; so, said the Bishop, whose wits sectarian hatred had sharpened--one bigotry driving out another--"Boy, it is either thou or the Devil that abhorrest those Words of the Gospel: and if it be the Devil (he being so ancient a Scholar, as of almost six Thousand Years' standing) knows, and understands all Languages; so that he cannot but know when I recite the same sentence out of the Greek Text: But if it be thyself then art thou an execrable Wretch, who plays the Devil's part; wherefore look to thyself, for now thou art to be put to Trial, and mark diligently, whether it be that same Scripture which shall be read." Then was read the twelfth verse of the first chapter, at which William, supposing it to be the abhorred first, fell into his customary fits; but when, immediately after, the first verse was read, he, supposing it was another, was not moved at all. By which means this part of the fraud was discovered also; and when, moving his eyes and staring about him wildly, he declared that he saw mice running round the bed, no one gave any credit to his words. When the whole thing was blown to the winds, and the Greek test had failed, and the dirty tricks had been found out, the boy made a pretended confession, which was evidently no more true than anything else had been. He said that one day as he was coming home, an old man called Thomas, with gray hair and a cradle of glasses on his shoulders, met him, and after asking him if he went to school and how he liked it, told him that he could teach him a few tricks which should prevent his going to school any more, and would instead lead all people to pity and lament him, holding him to be bewitched. But it was shrewdly suspected that the old man Thomas, with his gray hair and cradle of glass, was but a pleasant phantasy of the imagination; and that the real secret had lain with the Catholic priests, who, finding the boy apt and handy, thought they could make good capital out of him for their Church, and put him forth as a witness for its divine power and holy office, seeing that it could dispossess the demoniac and drive away evil spirits. Fortunately they reckoned without their host--the host of "reformed" bigotry and hatred: for we need not congratulate ourselves on any clearsightedness or common sense in the matter. Had the Boy of Bilston been a sound Protestant, he would have been held as indubitably Possessed by the Devil, and some poor wretch would have been found as a convenient sacrifice to the stupidity of that devil. MR. FAIRFAX'S FOLLY. The next year saw Mr. Fairfax of Knaresborough--Edward Fairfax, the scholar, the gentleman, the classic, our best translator of Tasso, graceful, learned, elegant Edward Fairfax--pursuing with incredible zeal six of his neighbours for supposed witchcraft on his children. The children had fits and were afflicted with imps, so Edward Fairfax thought his paternal duty consisted in getting the lives of six supposed witches, the hanging of whom would infallibly cure his children, and drive away the evil spirits possessing them. But fortunately for the accused the judge had more sense than Mr. Fairfax; and, though the women were sent back again for another assize, suffered them to escape with only the terror of death twice repeated. It is strange to find ourselves face to face with such stupid bigotry as this in a man so estimable and so refined as Fairfax. THE COUNTESS.[126] Lady Jennings and her young daughter Elizabeth, of thirteen, lived at Thistlewood in the year 1622. One day an old woman, coming no one knew whence, perhaps from the bowels of the earth, appeared suddenly before the girl, demanding a pin. The child was frightened, and had fits soon after--fits of the usual hysteric character, but quite sufficiently severe to alarm Lady Jennings. A doctor was sent for; but also, as well as the doctor, came a clever shrewd woman called Margaret Russill, or "Countess," a bit of a doctress in her way, perhaps a bit of a white witch too, who thought she could do the afflicted child some good, and had beside a love of putting her fingers into everybody's pie. At the end of one of her fits the child began to cry out wildly, then mentioned Margaret and three others as the persons who had bewitched her. And then she went on, incoherently, "These have bewitched all my mother's children--east, west, north, and south all these lie--all these are witches. Set up a great sprig of rosemary in the middle of the house--I have sent this child to speak, to show all these witches--Put Countess in prison, this child will be well--If she had been long ago, all together had been alive--Them she bewitched with a cat-stick--Till then I shall be in great pain--Till then, by fits, I shall be in great extremity--They died in great misery." No mother's heart could resist the appeal contained in these wild words; poor Countess was arrested, and taken before Mr. Slingsby, a magistrate. When there she said, though heaven knows what prompted her to tell such falsehoods, "Yesterday she went to Mrs. Dromondbye in Black-and-White Court, in the Old Baylye; and told her that the Lady Jennings had a daughter strangely sicke, whereuppon the said Dromondbye wished her to goe to inquire at Clerkenwell for a minister's wiffe that cold helpe people that were sicke, but she must not aske for a witch or a cunning woman, but for one that is a phisition woman; and then this examinate found her and a woman sitting with her and told her in what case the child was, and shee said shee wold come this day, but shee ought her noe service, and said shee had bin there before and left receiptes there, but the child did not take them. And she said further that there was two children that her Lady Jennins had by this husband, that were bewitched and dead, for there was controversie betweene two howses, and that as long as they dwelt there, they cold not prosper, and that there shold be noe blessing in that howse by this man." When asked what was this "difference," she answered, "Between the house of God and the house of the world:" but when told that this was no answer, and that she must explain herself more clearly, she said that "she meant the apothecary Higgins and my Lady Jennings." "And shee further confessed that above a moneth agoe she went to Mrs. Saxey in Gunpouder Alley, who was forespoken herself, and that had a boke that cold helpe all those that were forespoken, and that shee wold come and shewe her the booke and help her under God. And further said to this examinate, that none but a seminary priest cold cure her." So here again we have the constantly recurring element of sectarianism, without which, indeed, we should be at a loss how to understand much that meets us. "Countess" was committed to Newgate, and the bewitched child cried out more and more against her, making new revelations with each fit, when the pitiful farce was brought to a close by the minister's wife, Mrs. Goodcole, who, when confronted with Countess, denied point blank the more important parts of her evidence. And then all this evil--this much ado about nothing--was found to have arisen from a private quarrel; and when Dr. Napier was sent for, he unbewitched the possessed child with some very simple remedies, and the great balloon burst and fell to the ground in hopeless collapse. THE TWO VOICES.[127] On the 13th of August, 1626, Edward Bull and Joan Greedie were indicted at Taunton for bewitching Edward Dinham. Dinham was a capital ventriloquist, and could speak in two different voices beside his own, as well as counterfeit fits and play the possessed to the life. One of his two feigned voices was pleasant and shrill, and belonged to a good spirit; the other was deadly and hollow, and belonged to an evil spirit. And when he spoke his lips did not move, and he lay as if in a trance, and both he and the voices said that he was bewitched, and all the people believed them. And the good voice asked who had bewitched him, to which the bad replied, "A woman in greene cloathes and a blacke hatt with long poll, and a man in gray srite, with blewe stockings." When asked where she was now, the bad spirit answered, "At her own house," while he was at a tavern in "Yeohull," Ireland. Then after some pressing the bad spirit said that the name of one was "Johan," of the other "Edward;" and after more pressing still, confessed to the surnames, "Greedie and Bull." So in consequence of this reliable report messengers were sent off to find old Joan, and when found arrest her. Then the good spirit, who played the part of a benevolent Pry, asked how these two became witches, to which the bad answered, "By descent." "But how by descent?" says the good spirit, anxious not to leave a lock unfastened or a problem unsolved. "From the grandmother to the mother, and from the mother to the children," says the bad. "But howe were they soe?" says Goody. "They were bound to us and we to them," answered the bad, with more words than explanation. Good Spirit--"Lett me see the bond." Bad Spirit--"Thou shalt not." Good Spirit--"Lett me see it, and if I like it I will seale it alsoe." Bad Spirit--"Thou shalt, if thou wilt not reveale the contentes thereof." Good Spirit--"I will not." At this point it was pretended that a spectral bond was passed from the bad to the good ghost; and then broke out the "sweet and shrill voice" of the ventriloquist with "Alas! oh, pittifull, pittifull, pittifull! What! eight seales? bloody seales! four dead and four alive; oh, miserable!" Then came in the man's natural voice, addressing the spirit: "Come, come, prithee tell me why did they bewitch me?" Bad Spirit--"Because thou didst call Johan Greedie witche." Man--"Why, is shee not a witche?" Bad Spirit--"Yes, but thou shouldst not have said so," which was a fine bit of worldly policy in the bad ghost. Good Spirit--"But why did Bull bewitche him?" Bad--"Because Greedie was not strong enough." On this evidence further messengers were sent off for Edward Bull, but whether to Yeohull or not I cannot say. They were disappointed for the moment, for Bull had run away; and then, in a future interview, and to fill up the time until braver sport should be provided, the bad and the good spirits had a wrestle for Dinham's soul, which, judging from what evidence we have had left us, was not worth the struggle, and would be no great gain to either party. In the struggle the good spirit speaks Latin. "Laudes, laudes, laudes," says he, being well educated and not ashamed. But the bad was, as befitted his nature, churlish and ill-taught, and did not understand his opponent's talk, but translated it into "ladies," which made a laugh among them all. Then they struggled for the Prayer Book; but here again the bad was discomfited, and the man kept the talisman; after which the good spirit made "the sweetest musicke that ever was heard." When they set out to catch Bull again, they found him in bed; and now, when both the Possessors were safe, Dinham was freed and his voices dumb for ever. Perhaps he had caught cold. I do not know the fate of these poor wretches, but I should not think it doubtful. In 1627 Mr. Rothnell exorcised an evil spirit out of one John Fox; but notwithstanding this John continued dumb for three years after; which was rather an unfortunate comment on the exorcism, but not at all likely to open the eyes of any one willing to be blind. THE SECOND CURSE OF PENDLE.[128] We have seen what Lancashire was in sixteen hundred and twelve: it was not much better twenty-one years later; for in 1633 we find that Pendle Forest was still of bad repute, and that traditions of old Demdike and her rival Mother Chattox yet floated round the Malkin Tower, and hid, spectre-like, in the rough and desert places of the barren waste. Who ever knew of evil example waiting for its followers? What Mothers Demdike and Chattox had done in their day, their children and grandchildren were ready to do after them. The world will never lose its old women, "toothless, blear-eyed, foul-tongued, malicious," for whom love died out and sin came in long years ago; and Edmund Robinson, son of Ned of Roughs, was one of those specially appointed by Providence to bring such evildoers to their reward. Edmund, then about eleven years of age (how many of these sad stories come from children and young creatures!), lived with his father in Pendle Forest; lived poorly enough, but not without some kind of romance and interest; for on the 10th day of February, 1633, he made the following deposition:-- "Who upon oath informeth, being examined concerning the great meeting of the Witches of Pendle, saith that upon All Saints' Day last past, he, this Informer, being with one Henry Parker, a near-door neighbour to him in Wheatley-lane, desired the said Parker to give him leave to gather some Bulloes, which he did. In gathering whereof he saw two Grayhounds, viz., a black and a brown one, come running over the next field towards him, he verily thinking the one of them to be Mr. Nutter's, and the other to be Mr. Robinson's, the said Gentlemen then having such like. And saith, the said Grayhounds came to him, and fawned on him, they having about their necks either of them a Collar, unto each of which was tied a String; which Collars (as this Informer affirmeth) did shine like Gold. And he thinking that some either of Mr. Nutters or Mr. Robinsons Family should have followed them; yet seeing no body to follow them, he took the same Grayhounds, thinking to course with them. And presently a Hare did rise very near before him. At the sight whereof he cried Loo, Loo, Loo: but the Doggs would not run. Whereupon he being very angry took them, and with the strings that were about their Collars, tied them to a little bush at the next hedge, and with a switch that he had in his hand he beat them. And in stead of the black Grayhound, one Dickensons Wife stood up, a Neighbour, whom this Informer knoweth. And in stead of the brown one a little Boy, whom this Informer knoweth not. At which sight this Informer, being afraid, endeavoured to run away; but being stayed by the Woman, (viz.) by Dickensons Wife, she put her hand into her pocket, and pulled forth a piece of Silver much like to a fair shilling, and offered to give him it to hold his tongue and not to tell; which he refused, saying, Nay, thou art a Witch. Whereupon she put her hand into her pocket again, and pulled out a thing like unto a Bridle that gingled, which she put on the little Boyes head; which said Boy stood up in the likeness of a white Horse, and in the brown Grayhounds stead. Then immediately Dickensons wife took this Informer before her upon the said Horse and carried him to a new house called Hoarstones, being about a quarter of a mile off. Whither when they were come, there were divers persons about the door, and he saw divers others riding on Horses of several colours towards the said House, who tied their Horses to a hedge near to the said House. Which persons went into the said House, to the number of three score or thereabouts, as this Informer thinketh, where they had a fire, and meat roasting in the said House, whereof a young Woman (whom this Informer knoweth not) gave him Flesh and Bread upon a Trencher, and Drink in a Glass, which after the first taste he refused, and would have no more, but said it was nought. "And presently after, seeing divers of the said company going into a Barn near adjoining, he followed after them, and there he saw six of them kneeling, and pulling all six of them six several ropes, which were fastened or tied to the top of the Barn. Presently after which pulling, there came into this Informers sight flesh smoaking, butter in lumps, and milk as it were syleing (straining) from the said ropes. All which fell into basons which were placed under the said ropes. And after that these six had done, there came other six which did so likewise. And during all the time of their several pulling, they made such ugly faces as scared this Informer, so that he was glad to run out and steal homewards; who immediately finding they wanted one that was in their company, some of them ran after him near to a place in a Highway called Boggard-hole, where he, this Informer, met two Horsemen. At the sight whereof the said persons left following of him. But the foremost of those persons that followed him he knew to be one Loinds Wife; which said Wife, together with one Dickensons Wife, and one Jennet Davies, he hath seen since at several times in a Croft or Close adjoining to his Fathers house, which put him in great fear. And further this Informer saith, upon Thursday after New Years Day last past he saw the said Loinds Wife sitting upon a cross piece of wood being within the Chimney of his Fathers dwelling-house; and he, calling to her, said, Come down, thou Loynds Wife. And immediately the said Loynds Wife went up out of his sight. And further this Informer saith, that after he was come from the company aforesaid to his Fathers house, being towards evening, his Father bad him go and fetch home two kine to seal (tie up). And in the way, in a field called the Ellers, he chanced to hap upon a Boy, who began to quarrel with him, and they fought together, till the Informer had his ears and face made up very bloody by fighting, and looking down he saw the Boy had a cloven foot. At which sight, he being greatly affrighted, came away from him to seek the kine. And in the way he saw a light like to a Lanthorn, towards which he made haste, supposing it to be carried by some of Mr. Robinson's people; but when he came to the place he only found a Woman standing on a Bridge, whom, when he saw, he knew her to be Loinds Wife, and knowing her he turned back again; and immediately he met the aforesaid Boy, from whom he offered to run, which Boy gave him a blow on the back that made him to cry. And further this Informer saith, that when he was in the Barn, he saw three Women take six Pictures from off the beam, in which Pictures were many Thorns or such like things sticked in them, and that Loynds Wife took one of the Pictures down, but the other two Women that took down the rest he knoweth not. And being further asked what persons were at the aforesaid meeting, he nominated these persons following." Here follows a list of names of no interest to the modern reader. At the end of this deposition is one from the Father. "Edmund Robinson of Pendle, Father of the aforesaid Edmund Robinson, Mason, informeth, "That upon All Saints-day last he sent his Son the aforesaid Informer, to fetch home two kine to seal, and saith that his Son, staying longer than he thought he should have done, he went to seek him, and in seeking of him heard him cry pitifully, and found him so affrighted and distracted that he neither knew his Father nor did know where he was, and so continued very near a quarter of an hour before he came to himself. And he told this Informer his Father all the particular passages that are before declared in the said Robinson his Son's Information. (Signed) "RICHARD SHUTTLEWORTH. "JOHN STARKEY." Who would dare to doubt such testimony as this? Here was another child of God grievously mishandled; and what might not be done to the servants of the devil who had so evilly intreated him? And was not Edmund Robinson evidently raised up and directed by God to be the scourge of all witches, and the great discoverer of their naughty pranks? So the lad was elevated to the post of witch-finder, and was taken about from church to church--accusing any who might strike his fancy or his fears, and sending them off to prison at the impulse of his childish will. Among other places he was brought to the parish church of Kildwick, where Webster was then curate. It was during the afternoon service, and the lad was put upon a stall to look the better about him, and discern the witches more clearly. After service Webster went to him and found him with "two very unlikely persons that did conduct him and manage the business:" the curate of Kildwick would have drawn him aside, but the men would not suffer this. Then said Webster, "'Good boy, tell me truly and in earnest, didst thou hear and see such strange things of the meeting of witches as is reported by many that thou dost relate, or did some person teach thee to say such things of thyself?' But the two men, not giving the boy leave to answer, did pluck him from me, and said he had been examined by two able Justices of the Peace, and they did never ask him such a question; to whom I replied, 'The persons accused had therefore the more wrong.'" So Webster got nothing by this, and the boy was not damaged nor his credit shaken. Very many persons were arrested on this young imp's accusations, beside those seventeen whom he had seen "syleing" butter and bacon from witch-ropes in the magic barn. And among the rest Jennet Device, (was she our old acquaintance of perjured memory?) who was charged with killing Isabelle, the wife of William Nutter; and Mary Spencer, who was in imminent danger for having "caused a pale or cellocke to come to her, full of water, fourteen yards up a hill from a well;" and Margaret Johnson, accused of killing Henry Heape, and wasting and impairing the body of Jennet Shackleton--but there was no proof against her, save certain witch marks, which, however, were indisputable, and on the finding of which she was soon brought to confess. She said that, seven or eight years since, she was in a mighty rage against life and the world in general, when there appeared to her the devil like a man, dressed all in black tied about with silk points, who offered her all she might wish or want in return for her soul; telling her that she might kill man or beast as she should desire, and take her revenge when she would; and that if she did but call "Mamillion" when she wanted him, he would come on the instant and do as he was bid. So "after a sollicitacion or two, she contracted and condicioned with the said devill or spiritt for her soul," and henceforth became one of the most notorious of the Lancashire witches. She confessed that she was at the great witch-meeting held at Harestones, in Pendle, on All Saints'-day last past, and again at another the Sunday after; and that all the witches rode there on horses, and went to consult on the killing of men and beasts; and that "there was one devill or spiritt that was more greate and grand devill than the rest, and yf anie witch desired to have such an one, they might have such an one to kill or hurt anie body." She said, too, which was a new idea on her part, that the sharp-boned witches were more powerful and malignant than those with "biggs" only; and then she wandered off, and accused certain of her neighbours, of whom one, "Pickhamer's wife, was the most greate, grand, and auncyent witch." Then she told her audience that if any witch desired to be carried to any place, a cat, or a dog, or a rod would convey them away; but not their bodies, only their souls in the likeness of their bodies. The judge was not quite satisfied with either Edmund Robinson's depositions or Margaret's confessions, and for all that the jury brought in a verdict of guilty, managed to get a reprieve, and to send up some of the accused to London. He managed also to interest the king, Charles I., who had not his father's craze on the subject; and Charles ordered the bishop to make a special examination of the case, and send in his report. By this time, too, Edmund and his father were separated, and the boy fully examined; when at last he confessed to the entire worthlessness and fraud of all he had said. He had been robbing an orchard of bullees (plums) more than a mile off the barn at the day and hour named; and, counselled by his father, had made up those wicked lies to screen himself. And then, finding the game profitable--for in a short time they made so good a thing by it that the father bought a couple of cows--he flew further a-field, and attacked every one within reach. Fortunately for his victims, the judge was a man of sense and independent judgment; so the judiciary records of England are stained with one crime the less, and the neighbours lost the excitement of an execution. THE WITCH ON A PLANK.[129] "Many are in a belief that this silly sex of women can by no means attaine to that so vile and damned a practise of Sorcery and Witchcraft, in regard of their illiteratenesse and want of learning, which many men have by great learning done;" nevertheless the Earl of Essex and his army, marching through Newberry, saw a feat done by a woman which not the most learned man of them all could have accomplished by natural means. Two soldiers were loitering behind the main body, gathering nuts, blackberries, and the like, when one climbed up a tree for sport, and the other followed him, jesting. From their vantage place, looking on the river, they there espied a "tall, lean, slender woman treading of the water with her feet with as much ease and firmnesse as if one should walk or trample on the earth." The soldier called to his companion, and he to the rest; and soon they all--captains, privates, and commanders alike--saw this marvellous lean woman, who now they perceived was standing on a thin plank, "which she pushed this way and that at her pleasure, making it a pastime to her, little perceiving who was on her tracks." Then she crossed the river, and the army after her; but there they lost her for a time, and when they found her all were too cowardly to seize her. At last one dare-devil went up and boldly caught her, demanding what she was. The poor wretch was dumb--perhaps with terror--and spoke nothing; so they dragged her before the commanders, "to whom, though she was mightily urged, she did reply as little." As they could bethink themselves of nothing better to do with her, they set her upright against a mud bank or wall, and two of the soldiers, at their captain's command, made ready and fired. "But with a deriding and loud laughter at them, she caught their bullets in her hands and chew'd them, which was a stronger testimony than her treading water that she was the same that their imagination thought her for to be." Then one of the men set his carbine against her breast and fired; but the bullet rebounded like a ball, and narrowly missed the face of the shooter, which "so enraged the Gentleman, that one drew out his sword and manfully run at her with all the force his strength had power to make, but it prevailed no more than did the shot, the woman though still speechlesse, yet in a most contemptible way of Scorn still laughing at them, which did the more exhaust their furie against her life; yet one amongst the rest had heard that piercing or drawing bloud from forth the veines that crosse the temples of the head, it would prevail against the strongest sorcery, and quell the force of Witchcraft, which was allowed for Triall: the woman, hearing this, knew then the Devill had left her, and her power was gone; wherefore she began alowd to cry and roare, tearing her haire, and making pitious moan, which in these words expressed were: And is it come to passe that I must dye indeed? Why then his Excellency the Earle of Essex shall be fortunate and win the field. After which no more words could be got from her; wherewith they immediately discharged a Pistoll underneath her eare, at which she straight sunk down and dyed, leaving her legacy of a detested carcasse to the wormes, her soul we ought not to iudge of, though the euills of her wicked life and death can scape no censure. Finis. This Book is not Printed according to order." THE WITCH-FINDING OF HOPKINS. And now the reign of Matthew Hopkins, of Mannington, gent., begins--that most infamous follower of an infamous trade--the witch-finder general of England. It was Hopkins who first reduced the practice of witch-finding to a science, and established rules as precise as any to be made for mathematics or logic. His method of proceeding was to "walk" a suspected witch between two inquisitors, who kept her from food and sleep, and incessantly walking, for four-and-twenty hours; or if she could not be thus walked she was cross-bound--her right toe fastened to her left thumb, and her left toe to her right thumb--care being taken to draw the cords as tightly as possible, and to keep her as uneasily, and in this state she was placed on a high stool or chair, kept without food or sleep for the prescribed four-and-twenty hours, and vigilantly watched. And Hopkins recommended that a hole be made in the door, through which her imps were sure to come to be fed, and that her watchers be careful to kill everything they saw--fly, spider, lice, mouse, what not; for none knew when and under what form her familiars might appear; and if by any chance they missed or could not kill them, then they might be sure that they were imps, and so another proof be indisputably established. If neither of these ways would do, then, still cross-bound, she was to be "swum." If she sank, she was drowned; if she floated--and by putting her carefully on the water she generally would float--then she was a witch, and to be taken out and hung. For water, being the sacred element used in baptism, thus manifestly refused to hold such an accursed thing as a witch within its bosom; so that, when she swam, it was a proof that this "sacred element" rejected her for the more potent keeping of the fire. This was the explanation which, it seemed to King James the First, was a rational and religious manner of accounting for a certain physical fact. This, then, was the wise and liberal manner in which an impossible sin was discovered, and judgment executed, in those fatal years when Matthew Hopkins ruled the mind of England; yet years wherein Harvey was patiently at work on his grand physiological discovery, and when Wallis, and Wilkins, and Boyle were founding the Royal Society of liberal art and free discussion. It was only a piece of poetical justice that in the future he should be "swum" cross-bound in his own manner, and found to float according to the hydrostatics of witches. The shame and fear of this trial hastened the consumption to which he was hereditarily predisposed; and after this stringent test we hear no more of this vile impostor and impudent deceiver, this canting hypocrite, who cloaked his cruelty and covetousness under the garb of religion, and professed to be serving God and delivering man from the power of the devil when he was pandering to the worst passions of the time, and sacrificing to his own corrupt heart. The blood money, for which he sent so many hapless wretches to the gallows (he charged twenty shillings a town for his labours), though not an exceeding bribe, as he himself boasts, was money pleasantly earned and pleasantly spent; for what man would object to travel through a beautiful country, surrounded by friends, and carrying influence and importance wherever he went, and have all his expenses paid into the bargain? In 1664[130] we find him at Yarmouth, accusing sixteen women in a batch, among whom was an old woman easily got to confess. She said she used to work for Mr. Moulton, a stocking merchant and alderman of the town; but one day, going for work, she found him from home, and his man refused to let her have any till his return, which would not be for a fortnight. She, being exasperated against the man, applied to the maid to let her have some knitting to do, but the maid gave her the like answer: upon which she went home sorely discontented with both. In the middle of the night some one knocked at the door: on her rising to open it she saw a tall black man, who told her that she should have as much work from him as she would, if she would write her name in his book. He then scratched her hand with a penknife, and filled the pen with her blood--guiding her hand while she made her mark. This done, he asked what he could do for her: but when she desired to have her revenge on Mr. Moulton's man, he told her he had no power over him, because he went constantly to church to hear Whitfield and Brinsley, and said his prayers morning and evening. The same of the maid; but there was a young child in the house more easy to be dealt with, for whom he would make an image of wax which then they must bury in the churchyard, and as the waxen image wasted and consumed, so would the child; which was done, and the child thrown into a languishing condition in consequence; so bad, indeed, that they all thought it was dying. But as soon as the witch confessed, the little one lifted up its head and laughed, and from that instant began to recover. The waxen image was found where she said she and the devil had buried it, and thus the whole of the charm was destroyed, and the child was saved; but the poor old crazy woman with her blackbird imp, and her fifteen compeers with their whole menagerie of imps, were hung at Yarmouth, amid the rejoicings of the multitude. At Edmonsbury, that same year, another witch had a little black smooth imp dog, which she sent to play with the only child of some people she hated. At first the child refused to play with its questionable companion, but soon got used to its daily appearance, and lost all fear. So the dog-imp, watching its opportunity, got the boy one day to the water, when it dragged him underneath and drowned him. The witch was hanged: could they do less in such a clear case as this? Another woman was hanged at Oxford for a story as wild as any to be found in Grimm or Mother Bunch. There were two sisters, left orphans but well provided for. The eldest, somewhat prodigal, married a man as bad or worse than herself, who spent her money and afterwards deserted her, leaving her with one child and in extreme poverty. The younger, being very serious and religious, waited for two or three years before she settled herself, then married a good, honest, sober farmer, with whom she lived well and prosperously; her gear increasing yearly, and herself the happy mother of a pretty child. Her sister was moved to envy to see all this prosperity and contentment, and in her passion made a compact with the devil, by which she became a witch for the purpose of killing her sister's child as the greatest despite she could do them. For this purpose she used to mount a bedstaff, which, by the uttering of certain magical words, carried her to her sister's room; but she could never harm the child, because it was so well protected by the prayers of its parents. Her own daughter, a little one of about seven, watched her mother in her antics with the bedstaff, and from watching took to imitating--going through the air one night after its dame, and in like fashion. However, it chanced that she was left behind in her uncle's house; so presently she fell a-crying, her powers being apparently limited to going, not including the magic words that insured the return. Her uncle and aunt, hearing a child cry where never a child should be, took a candle and discovered the whole matter. Next day the child was taken before the magistrate, to whom it told its tale, and the mother was apprehended. On the trial this little creature of seven years old was admitted as the chief evidence against her mother; and after they had made the poor woman mad among them, she confessed, and was hanged quite quietly. These were only two out of the hundreds whom that miserable man, Matthew Hopkins, gent., contrived to send to the gallows. Beaumont, in his Treatise on Spirits, mentions that "thirty-six were arraigned at the same time before Judge Coniers, An. 1645, and fourteen of them hanged, and an hundred more detained in several prisons in Suffolk and Essex." But the most celebrated and the saddest of all the trials in which Hopkins played a part was that of THE MANNINGTREE WITCHES, held before Sir Matthew Hale in 1645--Hopkins's great witch-year. In a very scarce tract called 'A true and exact relation of the severall Informations, Examinations, and Confessions of the Late Witches Arraigned and Executed in the county of Essex, Published by Authoritie, and Printed by M. S. for Henry Overton and Benj. Allen, and are to be sold at their shops in Popes-head-alley, 1645,' is an account of these Manningtree witches. One John Rivet's wife, living in Manningtree, was taken sick and lame and with violent fits, and John swore before Sir Harbottel Grimston, one of the justices of the peace, that a cunning woman--wife of one Hovye at Hadleigh--told him that his wife was cursed by two women, near neighbours; of whom one was Elizabeth Clarke, _alias_ Bedingfield. Elizabeth's mother, and others of her kinsfolk, had been hanged for witchcraft in the bygone years: so it ran in the blood, and it was not to be wondered at if it broke out afresh now. Sir Harbottel Grimston and Sir Thomas Bowes, the two Justices before whom this deposition was taken, then admitted the evidence of Matthew Hopkins of Manningtree, gentleman and witch-finder, who deposed to having watched Elizabeth Clarke last night, being the 24th of March, 1645, when he and one Master Sterne, who watched with him, saw some strange things which he would presently tell their worships of. Elizabeth told this deponent and his companion that if they would stay and do her no harm, she would call one of her imps, and play with it in her lap; which at first they refused, but afterwards consenting, there appeared to them "an Impe like to a Dog, which was white, with some sandy spots, and seemed to be very fat and plump, with very short legges, who forthwith vanished away." This was Jarmara. Then came Vinegar Tom, in the shape of a greyhound with very long legs; and then for a moment only came one for Master Sterne, a black imp which vanished instantly; then one like a polecat, only bigger.[131] Elizabeth now told them that she had five imps of her own, and two of Beldam West's, and that they sucked turn and turn about: now she was sucked by Beldam West's and now Beldam West by hers. She further said that Satan, whom she knew very much too well as "a proper Gentleman with a laced band, having the whole proportion of a Man," would never let her have any peace till she slew the hogs of Mr. Edwards of Manningtree, and Mr. Taylor's horse. When she had slain them Satan let her be quiet. Then of his own accord, Mr. Hopkins said that going from Mr. Edwards's house to his own, that night at nine or ten, he saw the greyhound which he had with him jump as if after a hare; and coming up hurriedly, there was a white thing like a "kitlyn," and his greyhound standing aloof from it; but by-and-by the white kitlyn came dancing round and about the greyhound, "and by all likelihood bit off a piece of the flesh of the shoulder of the greyhound; for the greyhound came shrieking and crying to this Informant, with a piece of fleshe torne from her shoulder." To crown all, coming into his own yard, Mr. Hopkins saw a thing like a black cat, only three times as big, sitting on the strawberry-bed glaring at him; but when he went towards it, it leaped over the pale, ran right through the yard--his greyhound after it--then flung open a gate which was "underset with a paire of Tumbrell strings," and so vanished, leaving the greyhound in a state of extreme terror. Which, if there was any truth at all in these depositions, and they were not merely arbitrary lies, would make one suspect that Master Matthew Hopkins had been drinking, and knew a few of the phenomena of delirium tremens. John Sterne, Matthew's slavey or attendant, then gave information. Watching with Matthew Hopkins, he asked Elizabeth Clarke if she were never afraid of her imps? to whom she made this notable answer, "What, doe you thinke I am afraid of my children?" His tale of imps was rather different to his patron's: they had consulted hurriedly, or John's memory was bad. The white imp was Hoult; Jarmara had red spots; Vinegar Tom was like a "dumbe Dogge;" and Sack-and-Sugar was a hard-working imp, which would tear Master John Sterne when it came. And it was well that Master Sterne was so quick, else this imp would have "soon skipped upon his face, and perchance had got into his throate, and then there would have been a feast of toades in this Informant's belly." Elizabeth had one imp, she said, for which she would fight up to her knees in blood before she would lose it; and when asked what the devil was like as a man, said he was a "proper man," a deal "properer" than Matthew Hopkins. Other witnesses affirmed that if Elizabeth smacked with her mouth then a white cat-like imp, would come, and that they saw five more imps, named as above. And furthermore that she confessed that old Beldam, meaning Ann West--which was a very disrespectful way of speaking of her gossip--had killed Robert Oakes' wife and a clothier's child of Dedham, both of whom had died about a week since; and also that "the said old Beldam Weste had the wife of one William Cole of Mannintree in handling, who deid not long since of a pining and languishing disease," and that she had raised the wind which sunk the hoy in which was Tom Turner's brother thirty months agone. She also said that Beldam West had taught her all she knew; for that one day as she was pitying her for her lameness--she had but one leg--and for her poverty, she told her how she might get imps and be rich, for that the imps would help her to a husband who would keep her ever after, so that she need not be put to such miserable shifts as gathering sticks for a living. Elizabeth Clarke then accused Elizabeth Gooding of being one of the tribe: and Robert Taylor came forward to give corroborative evidence against her. He said that nine weeks since, Elizabeth Gooding came to his shop for half a pound of cheese, on trust; that he denied it to her; whereupon she went away, "muttering and mumbling" to herself, and soon came back with the money. That very night his horse, which was in the stable, sound and in good condition, fell lame and in four days' time died of a strange disease, and Elizabeth Gooding was the cause thereof. Elizabeth Gooding "is a lewd woman, and to this Informant's knowledge, hath kept company with the said Elizabeth Clarke, Anne Leech, and Anne West, which Anne West hath been suspected for a Witch many years since, and suffered imprisonment for the same." Elizabeth Gooding contented herself with saying quietly that she was not guilty of any one particular charged upon her in the examination of the said Robert Taylor. Nevertheless she was executed at Chelmsford. Richard Edwards said that twelve months since he was driving his cows near to the house of Anne Leech, widow, when they both fell down and died in two days; the next day his white cow fell down within a rod of the same place, and died in a week after. In August last his child was out at nurse at goodwife Wyles', who lived near Elizabeth Gooding and Elizabeth Clarke; which said child was taken very sick, with rolling of the eyes, strange fits, extending of the limbs, and in two days it died: and Elizabeth Gooding and Anne Leech were the cause of its death. And now poor old Anne Leech was brought on the scene, to "confess," as so many wretched victims did. She said that she and Elizabeth Clarke and Elizabeth Gooding sent their imps to kill Mr. Edwards's black cow, and his white cow; she sent a grey imp, Elizabeth Clarke a black one, and Gooding a white; also that thirty years since she sent her grey imp to kill Mr. Bragge's two horses, because he had called her a naughty woman--and that the imps did their work without fear of failure. When these imps were abroad, she said, and after mischief, she had her health, but when they were unemployed and for ever hanging about her, she was sick. They often spoke to her in a hollow voice which she easily understood, and told her that she should never feel hell's torments: which it is very sure the poor old maniac never did. She and Gooding killed Mr. Edwards's child too; she with her white imp, and Elizabeth with her black one. She had her white imp about thirty years since, and a grey and a black as well, from "one Anne, the wife of Robert Pearce of Stoak in Suffolk, being her brother." Three years since she sent her grey imp to kill Elizabeth Kirk; and Elizabeth languished for about a year after and then died; the cause of her, Anne Leech's, malice being that she had asked of Elizabeth a coif, which she refused. The grey imp killed the daughter of Widow Rawlyns, because Widow Rawlyns had put her out of her farm; and she knew that Gooding had sent her imp to vex and torment Mary Taylor, because Mary refused her some beregood; but when she wanted to warn her, the devil would not let her. Lastly, she said, that about eight weeks ago she had met West and Gooding at Elizabeth Clarke's house "where there was a book read wherein she thinks there was no goodnesse." So all these wretched creatures were hanged at Chelmsford, and the informants plumed themselves greatly on their evidence. But before their execution, poor Hellen Clark, wife of Thomas Clark, and daughter of Anne Leech, was "fyled." On the 4th of April, 1645, Richard Glascock gave information that he had heard a falling out between Hellen, and Mary wife of Edward Parsley, and that he "heard the said Hellen to say as the said Hellen passed by this Informant's door in the street, that Mary the daughter of the said Edward and Mary Parsley should rue for all, whereupon presently the said Mary, the daughter, fell sick and died within six weeks after." When Helen was arrested she made her confession glibly. She said that about six weeks since the devil came to her house in the likeness of a white dog by name Elimanzer, and that she fed him with milk porridge; that he spoke to her audibly, bidding her deny Christ and she should never want; which she did: but she did not kill Mary Parsley nevertheless. She was executed at Manningtree all the same as if she had spoken sober truth. On the 23rd of the same month Prudence Hart came to the magistrates with an accusation. About eight weeks since, she said, being at church very well and healthful--some twenty weeks gone with child--she was suddenly taken with pains, and miscarried before she could be got home: and about two months since, being in bed, something fell upon her right side, but being dark she could not tell of what shape it was: but presently she was taken lame on that side, and with extraordinary pains and burning, and she believed that Anne West and Rebecca West, the daughter, were the cause of her pains. John Edes also swelled the count of accusations. He said that Rebecca had confessed to him that seven years since her mother incited her to intercourse with the devil, who had since appeared to her at divers times and in various shapes, but chiefly as a proper young man, desiring of her such things as proper young men are wont to desire of women; promising her that if she would yield to his wishes she should have what she would, and especially should be avenged of her enemies; and that then Rebecca had demanded the death of Hart's son of Lawford, who, not long after, was taken sick and died. At which Rebecca had said "that shee conceived hee could do as God." And furthermore, that Rebecca said, while she lived at Rivenall her mother Anne came to her and said, "the Barley Corn was picked up," meaning one George Francis; and that shortly after George's father said his son was bewitched to death; to which Anne replied, "Be it unto him according to his faith." When Rebecca was called on the 21st of March, to answer to these charges, she confirmed all that John Edes had said, adding a few unimportant particulars which insured the execution of her mother in the August following; but in spite of her own confession she herself, though found guilty by the grand jury, was acquitted for life and death. Matthew Hopkins struck a few dashes of colour over the canvas, telling the judges that Rebecca had told him she was made a witch by her mother; and that when she met the four other goodies in Clarke's house, the devil, or their familiars, had come, now in the shape of a dog, then of two kittyns, then of two dogs--and that they first did homage to Elizabeth Clarke, skipping up into her lap and kissing her, and then to all the rest, kissing each one of them save Rebecca. Afterwards, when Satan came as a man, he gave her kisses enough: and not quite so innocently as the "kittyns and the dogges." Susan Sparrow and Mary Greenliefe lived together. Each had a daughter thirteen or fourteen years old; and one night Susan Sparrow, being awake, heard Mary's child cry out, "Oh mother, now it comes, it comes! Oh helpe, mother, it hurts me, it hurts me!" So Susan said, "Goodwife Greenliefe, Goodwife Greenliefe, if your childe be asleep awaken it, for if anybody comes by and heare it make such moans (you having an ill name already), they will say you are suckling your Impes upon it." To which Mary replied that this was just what she was doing, and that she would "fee" with them (meaning her Imps), that one night they should suck her daughter, and one night Susan Sparrow's; which fell out as she said. For the very next night Susan's child cried out in the same manner as Mary's had done, and clasped her mother round the neck, much affrighted and shrieking pitifully. She complained of being pinched and nipped on her thigh; and in the morning there was a black and blue spot as broad and long as her hand. Susan Sparrow also said that the house where they lived was haunted by a leveret, which came and sat before the door; and knowing that Anthony Sharlock had a capital courser, she went and asked him to banish it for her. Whether the dog killed it or not she did not know; all that she did know was, that Goodman Merrill's dog coursed it but a short time before, but the leveret never stirred, and "just when the dog came at it he skipped over it, and turned about and stood still, and looked on it, and shortly after that dog languished and dyed. But whether this was an Impe in the shape of a Leveret, or had any relation to the said Mary, this Informant knows not, but does confesse shee wondered very much to see a Leveret, wilde by nature, to come so frequently and sit openly before the dore in such a familiar way." Mary was searched, and found marked with witch marks, but contented herself with quietly denying all knowledge of familiars, witchcraft, "bigges," and the like. Mary Johnson was accused of having a familiar, in shape like a rat "without tayl or eares," which she used to carry about in her pocket, and set to rock the cradle. She kissed Elizabeth Otley's child, and gave it an apple, and the child sickened and died of fits; and Elizabeth herself had extraordinary pains, which left her when she had scuffled with Mary Johnson and gotten her blood. And she killed Annabell Durant's child by commending it as a pretty thing, stroking its face, and giving it a piece of bread and butter; and Annabell knew that she had been the death of the child, because, "setting up of broome in the outhouse after the little one had been taken, she saw the perfect representation of a shape just like Mary Johnson, and was struck with such a lamenesse in her Arms that she was not able to bow her arms, and so continued speechless all that day and night following. Mary came also as the noise of a Hornet, to the room where Annabell's husband lay sick, for he cried out, 'It comes, it comes! Now Goodwife Johnson's Impe is come! Now she hath my life!'" And immediately a great part of the wall fell down. So was not Mary Johnson an undoubted witch with all this testimony against her? Anne Cooper was executed at Manningtree because she had three black imps, by name Wynow, Jeso, and Panu; because she gave her daughter Sarah a grey imp like a kite, and called Tomboy, telling her there was a cat for her to play with; because she cursed a colt and it broke its neck directly after; and because she sent one of her imps to kill little Mary Rous--which it did. Elizabeth Hare was condemned, but afterwards reprieved, for giving two imps to Mary Smith. The poor old woman "praying to God with her hands upward, that if she was guilty of any such thing, He would show some example on her, presently after she shaked and quivered, and fell to the ground backward, and tumbled up and down the ground, and hath continued sick ever since." Old Margaret Moone had twelve imps, but her informants could only remember the names of "Jesus, Jockey, Sandy, Mrs. Elizabeth, and Collyn." Her imps killed cows and babes; spoiled brewings; broke horses' necks; bewitched "aples" so that the eaters thereof died; sent Rawbodd's wife such a plague of lice that they might have been swept off her clothes with a stick; and did other maleficent things, proper to imps and witches. When searched she was found to have "bigges" where the imps sucked; and confessed the same, saying that "if she might have some bread and beere she would call her said Impes; which being given unto her, she put the bread into the beere and set it against a hole in the wall, and made a circle round about the pot, and then cried, Come Christ, come Christ, come Mounsier, come Mounsier." No imps appearing, she said her daughters had carried them off in a white bag, and demanded that the said daughters might be "searched," "for they were naught." They were searched, and were found witch-marked. Margaret denied all the charges against herself, but was condemned nevertheless; and only escaped the executioner's hands by dying on her way to the gallows. Judith Moone helped her mother a step gallowsward by a rambling, pointless confession about some wood, and how her mother threatened her, and how something seemed to come about her legs that night; but when she searched she found nothing; so Judith Moone probably died because she did not know how to distinguish a false sensation from a true one. Elizabeth Harvey, widow, Sarah Hating, wife, Marian Hocket, widow, were "searched:" the first two were marked, the last not, but yet was the worst witch of all, for she had made Elizabeth Harvey as bad as herself by bringing her three things the bigness of mouses, which she said were "pretty things," and to be made use of. As for Sarah Hating, she had sent Francis Stock's wife a snake, which the said wife espied lying on a shelf, and strove to kill with a spade, but the snake was too quick for her and vanished away; so Francis Stock's wife was taken sick, and within one week died. A daughter was taken ill immediately after her mother, and she also died, and then another child; all because Francis Stock had impressed Sarah Hating's husband for a soldier, and Sarah Hating was angered. Marian Hocket was told on by her own sister, Sarah Barton, who said that she had given her three imps, "Littleman, Prettyman, and Dainty." They were all executed, Sarah and Marian denying their guilt, but Elizabeth Harvey sticking to her tale of the three mouses which Marian had brought her, and which sucked her. Rose Hallybread bewitched Robert Turner's servant so that he crowed like a cock, barked like a dog; groaned beyond the ordinary course of nature, and, though but a youth, struggled with such strength that four or five men could not hold him. Says Rose, fifteen or sixteen years ago, Goodwife Hagtree brought an imp to her house which she nourished on oatmeal, and suckled according to the manner of witches, for the space of a year and a half--when she lost it; then Joyce Boanes brought her another, as a small grey bird, which she carried to Thomas Toakley's house in St. Osyth, putting it into a cranny of the door, so that his son should die, as he did--crying out all the time that Rose Hallybread had killed him. She then accused Susan Cocks and Margaret Landish, and died in prison, cheating the hangman. Old Joyce Boanes now took up the tale. She had two imps like mouses she said, and they killed the lambs at the farm-house called Cocket-wick, and one of these imps called "Rug" she took to Rose Hallybread, that they might torment Turner's servant. Wherefore her imp made him bark like a dog; Rose Hallybread's "inforced him to sing sundry tunes in his great extremity of paines;" Susan Cock's compelled him to crow like a cock; and Margaret Landish's made him groan. Poor old Joyce Boanes was hanged in return for her drivelling ravings. So was Susan Cock; who confirmed all that had gone before, adding only that the night her mother died she gave her two imps, one like a mouse "Susan," the other yellow and like a cat "Besse," with which she did sundry acts of spite and damage. Wherefore Susan was put out of the way of further harm. Margaret Landish knew not much about the matter, but was executed nevertheless, for having bewitched Thomas Hart's child--incited thereto by the girl's pointing at her and crying "There goes Pegg the witch!" upon which Peg turned back and clapped her hands in a threatening manner, saying "she should smart for it," and that very night the child fell sick in a raving manner, and died within three weeks after; often in its fits crying out that "Pegg the witch was by the bedside making strange mouths at her." Rebecca Jones owned to knowing the devil as a handsome young man, who pricked her wrist and made her his in soul and body. This was about four or five and twenty years ago, when living with John Bishop as his servant. About three months since too, going to St. Osyth to sell her master's butter, she met a man in a ragged suit and with such great eyes that she was afraid of him, and he gave her three things like "moules," having four feet apiece but no tails, and black, which he told her to nurse carefully and feed on milk. Their names were Margaret, Anie, and Susan, and they killed cows and sheep and hogs, and revenged her on her enemies. So Rebecca was hanged as befitted. Johan Cooper, widow, had three imps, two like mouses and one like a frog; their names were "Prickeare, Robyn, and Frog," and they killed men and beasts. Wherefore she too was hanged like the rest. Anne Cate had four, given her by her mother twenty years ago, "James, Prickeare, Robyn, and Sparrow:" the first three like mouses, and the fourth like a sparrow; and they did evil and mischief and killed all whom she would. She was hanged too. At the end of the tract is a very curious bit of evidence, given by an honest man of Manningtree, one Goff, a glover, concerning old Anne West, then on her trial. He said that one moonlight morning, about four o'clock, as he was passing Anne West's house, the door being open, he looked in and saw three or four little things like black rabbits which came skipping towards him. He struck at them, but missed; when, by better luck, he caught one in his hand and tried to wring its head off; but "as he wrung and stretched the neck of it, it came out betweene his hands like a lock of wooll," so he went to drown it at a spring not far off. But still as he went he could not hinder himself from falling down, so that at last he was obliged to creep on his hands and knees, till he came to the water, when he held the imp for a long space underneath, till he conceived it was drowned, but, "letting goe his hand, it sprang out of the water up into the aire, and so vanished away." Coming back to Anne West's, he found her standing at her door in terrible undress, and to his complaint of why did she send her imps to molest him? she answered "that they were not sent out to trouble him, but as Scouts upon another designe." But one of the most painful murders of the Hopkins Session was that of old Mr. Lewis,[132] the "Reading Parson" of Franlingham; a fine old man of good character, but generally regarded as a Malignant, because he preferred to read Queen Elizabeth's Homilies instead of composing nasal discourses of his own, of the kind so dear to the Puritan party: wherefore the authorities and Matthew Hopkins--who was a devout Puritan--had their eyes upon him, and were not disposed to be lenient. He was swum in Hopkins's manner, cross-bound; set on a table cross-legged; kept several nights without sleep, and twenty-four hours without food; run backwards and forwards in the room, two men holding him, until he was out of breath; "pricked" and searched for marks; after all which barbarity it is not surprising to find that the poor old Reading Parson of eighty-five "confessed." Yes, he had made a compact with the devil and sealed it with his blood; and he had two imps that sucked him, one of which, the yellow dun imp, was always urging him to do some mischief, but the other was more amiable. Accordingly, to please the yellow dun he had one day sent it to sink an Ipswich ship, which he spied out in the offing: a commission which the imp executed with zeal and precision before the eyes of a whole beach full of spectators. This Ipswich ship was one of many that rode safely enough in the calm sea, but the imp troubled the waters immediately about her, and down she went like a stone, as all present could testify. Asked if he had not grieved to make so many--they were fourteen--widows in a few moments he said "No, he was glad to have pleased his imp." This confession and various witch "bigges" found on him were held proofs conclusive; and Mr. Lewis was condemned to be hanged; his eighty years, and his gown, protecting him nowise. As soon as he was a little refreshed he denied all the ravings he had been induced to utter, read the burial service for himself with cheerfulness and courage, and met his death calmly and composedly; perhaps not sorry to resign into God's keeping a life which Matthew Hopkins and the Puritans were rendering intolerable. A Penitent Woman[133] of the same time confessed that when her mother lay sick a thing like a mole ran into bed to her. She, the Penitent Woman, started, but her mother told her not to fear, but to take the mole and keep it, saying, "Keep this in a pot by the fire, and thou shalt never want." The daughter did as she was bid, and made the mole comfortable in its pot. And after she had done this, a seemingly poor boy came in and asked leave to warm himself by the fire. When he went away she found some money under the stool whereon he had sat. This happened many times, and so her mother's promise and her imp brought the poor penitent romancer Barmecidal good luck. It could not have been much, for Hopkins, or at least his friend and comrade John Sterne, says in the examination of Joan Ruccalver, of Powstead, Suffolk, that "six shillings was the largest amount he had ever known given by an imp to its dame." That all this seemed right and rational in the eyes of sane men is one of the most marvellous things connected with the delusion: that well-educated Englishmen should send such a wretch as Matthew Hopkins with legal authorisation to prick witches, associating with him Mr. Calamy "to see that there was no fraud:" that they should arraign miserable old women by scores, and hang them by dozens: and that Baxter should gravely argue for the validity of ghosts and spectres on the plea that "various Creatures must have a various Situation, Reception, and Operation: the Fishes must not dwell in our cities nor be acquainted with our affairs"--strikes me chiefly with amazement at the marvellous imbecility of superstition. It is well for the leaders of sects to bid us cast down our reason before blind faith; for, assuredly, our reason, which is the greatest gift of God, pleads loudly against the follies of belief and the vital absurdities into which religionists fall when unchecked by common sense. It was only the "Atheists" and "Sadducees," as they were called, who at last managed to put a stop to this hideous delusion: all the pious believers upheld the holy need of searching for witches, and of not suffering them to live wherever they might be found. All sects and denominations of Christians joined in this, and found a meeting-place of brotherly love and concord beneath the witches' gallows. And though one's soul revolts most at the so-called "Reformed Party," because of the greater unctuousness of their piety, and their mighty professions, yet they were all equally guilty, one with the other; all equally steeped to the lips in insanest superstition. The temper of the times has so far changed now that men and women are no longer hung because they have mesmeric powers, or because hysterical and epileptic patients utter wild ravings: but the thing remains the same; there is the same amount of superstition still afloat, if somewhat altered in its direction; and modern Spiritualism, which has come to supersede Witchcraft, is, when it is true at all and not mere legerdemain, as little understood and as falsely catalogued as was ever the art of magic and sorcery. THE HUNTINGDON IMPS. In another very scarce tract by "J. D." (John Davenport) "present at the trial," we come to a strange and mournful group of judicial murders that took place in Huntingdon, 1646. First, there was Elizabeth Weed, of Great Catworth, who confessed that twenty-one years ago, as she was saying her prayers, three spirits came suddenly to her, one of which was like a man or youth, and the other two like puppies, of which one was white and the other black. The young man asked her if she would renounce God and Christ: to which she assented, her faith being weak; and then the devil promised that she should do all the mischief she would, if she would covenant to give him her soul at the end of twenty-one years. She assented to this too; and sealed the bargain with her blood. He drew the blood from under her left arm, and "a great lump of flesh did rise there, and has increased ever since;" and the devil scribbled with her blood, and the covenant was signed and sealed. The name of her white imp, like a puppy, was "Lilly," of the black "Priscille;" and the office of the white was to hurt man, woman, and child, but of the black to hurt cattle. The man spirit's function was that of her husband, in which relation she lived with him to her great satisfaction. Lilly killed Mr. Henry Bedell's child, and Priscille sundry cattle; but she had not had much good of the bargain, for the twenty-one years were to be out next Low Sunday, when her soul would be required of her and the devil would take her away; and she desired to be rid of the burden of her life before then. The judges acquiesced in her desire: which a little good food and careful watching would have proved to them was but the phantasy of disease; and the hangman had her body, though no devil took her soul, and her sufferings and her sins vexed the universe no more. John Winnick's confession is one of the most graphic and extraordinary of any in the tract. I give it word for word as I found it. "The examination of John Winnick, of Molseworth in the said County, Labourer, taken upon the 11th day of Aprill, 1646, before Robert Bernard, Esquire, one of His Majesties Justices of the Peace for this County. Hee saith, that about 29 yeares since, the 29th yeare ending about Midsommer last past, he being a Batchellour, lived at Thropston with one Buteman, who then kept the Inne at the George, and withall kept Husbandry: this Examinate being a servant to him in his Husbandry, did then loose a purse with 7_s._ in it, for which he suspected one in the Family. He saith that on a Friday being in the barne, making hay-bottles for his horses about noon, swearing, cursing, raging, and wishing to himselfe that some wise body (or Wizzard) would helpe him to his purse and money again: there appeared unto him a Spirit, blacke and shaggy, and having pawes like a Beare, but in bulk not fully so big as a Coney. The Spirit asked him what he ailed to be so sorrowfull, this Examinate answered that he had lost a purse and money, and knew not how to come by it again. The Spirit replied, if you will forsake God and Christ and fall down and worship me for your God, I will help you to your purse and money again. This Examinate said he would, and thereupon fell down upon his knees and held up his hands. Then the Spirit said, to-morrow about this time of the day, you shall find your purse upon the floor where you are now making bottles, I will send it to you, and will also come my selfe. Whereupon this Examinate told the Spirit he would meete him there, and receive it, and worship him. Whereupon at the time prefixed, this Examinate went unto the place, and found his purse upon the floore, and tooke it up, and looking afterwards into it, he found there all the money that was formerly lost: but before he had looked into it, the same Spirit appears unto him and said, there is your purse and your money in it: and then this Examinate fell downe upon his knees and said, My Lord and God I thanke you. The said Spirit at that time brought with him two other Spirits for shape, bignesse, and colour, the one like a white Cat, the other like a grey Coney; and while this Examinate was upon his knees, the Beare Spirit spake to him, saying, you must worship these two Spirits as you worship me, and take them for your Gods also: then this Examinate directed his bodie towards them, and called them his Lords and Gods. Then the Beare Spirit told him that when he dyed he must have his soule, whereunto this Examinate yielded. Hee told him then also that they must suck of his body, to which this Examinate also yielded; but they did not sucke at that time. The Beare Spirit promised him that he should never want victuals. The Cat Spirit that it would hurt Cattel when he would desire it. And the Coney-like Spirit that it would hurt men when he desired. The Bear Spirit told him that it must have some of his blood wherewith to seale the Covenant, whereunto this Examinate yielded, and then the beare Spirit leapt upon his shoulder, and prickt him on the head, and from thence tooke blood; and after thus doing, the said three spirits vanisht away. The next day about noone, the said Spirits came to him while hee was in the field, and told him they were come to suck of his body, to which he yielded, and they suckt his body at the places where the marks are found, and from that time to this, they have come constantly to him once every 24 hours, sometimes by day, and most commonly by night. And being demanded what mischiefe he caused any of the said spirits to do, he answered never any, onely hee sent his beare Spirit to provoke the maid-servant of Mr. Say of Molmesworth, to steale victualls for him out of her Master's house, which she did, and this Examinate received the same. The marke of John Winnicke Rob. Bernard. He was hanged, 1646. Eight years before this--namely, in 1638--Frances Moore had a black puppy imp of Margaret Simson of Great Catworth, which she called Pretty, and whose office was to harm cattle. Then Goodwife Weed gave her a thing like a white cat, called Tissy, saying, if she would deny God and affirm the same by her blood, to whomsoever she sent this cat, and cursed, would die. So she cursed William Foster, who, sixteen years ago would have hanged two of her children because they offered to take a piece of bread; and he died: but she could not remember what the cat imp did to him. Poor old creature! such naïve little bits of truth and scientific direction come out in the midst of all the wildness and raving of the "examined!"--such little quiet bits of unconscious common sense, to redeem the whole account from the mere maunderings of lunacy! Frances Moore did not remember what her imp did to William Foster, yet she went on to say that she got tired of having them about her, and killed them both a year since; but they haunted her still, and when she was apprehended crept up her clothes and tortured her so that she could not speak. Elizabeth Chandler, widow, had something that came to her in a "puffing and roaring manner," and that now hurt her sorely. She denied that she ever spoiled Goodwife Darnell's furmety, but Goodwife Darnell, by causing her to be ducked, she did heartily desire to be revenged on. She had been troubled with these roaring things for a quarter of a year, and had two imps besides, one called "Beelzebub," and the other "Trullibub." This she denied when asked, while sane and awake, saying that "Beelzebub was a logg of wood and Trullibub a stick." But the neighbours testified against her, so her denial went for naught. Ellen Shepheard had four iron-grey rat imps that sucked her; and Anne Desborough had two--mouses--Tib and Jone, one brown and the other white. She had been told to forsake God and Christ, and that she would then have her will on men and cattle; as she did, and got her mouse imps in consequence. Jane Wallis saw a man in black clothes, about six weeks since, as she was making her bed. She bid him civilly good morning, and asked him his name. He told her it was "Blackeman," and, in turn, asked her if she was poor. Yes, she said "she was." Then he would send her two imps said he, Grissel and Greedigut, that should do anything for her she would. At this moment, Jane, looking up, saw he had ugly feet, and was fearful; still more fearful when he became at one moment bigger and at another less, and then suddenly vanished. Grissel and Greedigut came in the shape of "dogges, with great brisles of hogges hair upon their backs." They said they came from Blackeman to do whatever she might command: and sometimes all three of them--the two dogs and the man--brought her two or three shillings at a time; and once they robbed a man and pulled him from his horse. On September 25, 1645,[134] Joan Walliford confessed before the major and other jurates, "that the divell, about seven yeares agoe did appeare to her in the shape of a little dog, and bid her to forsake God and leane to him; who replied, that she was loath to forsake him." Still, she wished to be revenged on Thomas Letherland and Mary Woodrufe, now his wife; and as "Bunne," the devil, promised she should not lack, and did actually send her money, she knew not whence--sometimes a shilling and sometimes eightpence, "never more"--devil-worship did not seem such a bad trade after all. She further said that her retainer, Bunne, once carried Thomas Gardler out of a window; and that twenty years ago she promised her soul to the devil, and that he wrote the covenant between them in her blood, promising to be her servant for that space of time, which time was now almost expired; that Jane Hot, Elizabeth Harris, and Joan Argoll, were her fellows; that Elizabeth Harris curst the boat of one John Woodcott, "and so it came to passe;" that Goodwife Argoll, curst Mr. Major and John Mannington, and so it came to pass in these cases too; and that Bunne had come to her twice since in prison, and sucked her "in the forme of a muce." So poor Joan Walliford was hanged, and at the place of execution exhorted all good people to take warning by her, and not to suffer themselves to be deceived by the divell, neither for love of money, malice, or anything else, as she had done, but to sticke fast to God; for if she had not first forsaken God, God would not have forsaken her. Joan Cariden, widow, said that about three quarters of a year since, "as she was in the bed about twelve or one of the clocke in the night, there lay a 'rugged soft thing' upon her bosome which was very soft, and she thrust it off with her hand; and she saith that when she had thrust it away she thought God forsooke her, and she could never pray so well since as she could before; and further saith that shee verily thinks it was alive." On a second examination she said that the divell came to her in the shape of a "black rugged Dog in the night time, and crept into the bed to her, and spake to her in a mumbling tongue." Two days after she made further revelations of how "within these two daies," she had gone to Goodwife Pantery's house, where were other good wives, and where the divell sat at the upper end of the table. Jane Hot said that a thing like a "hedg-hog" had usually visited her for these twenty years. It sucked her in her sleep, and pained her, so that she awoke: and lay on her breast, when she would strike it off. It was as soft as a cat. On coming into the gaol she was very urgent on the others to confess, but stood out sturdily for her own innocence; saying, "that she would lay twenty shillings that if she was swum she would sink." She was swum and she floated; whereat a gentleman asked her "how it was possible that she could be so impudent as not to confesse herselfe?" to whom she answered, "That the Divell went with her all the way, and told her that she should sinke; but when she was in the Water he sat upon a Crosse beame, and laughed at her." "_These three were executed on Munday last_," says the tract in emphatic italics. It now came to the turn of Elizabeth Harris. She said that nineteen years ago the devil came to her in the form of a muse (mouse) and told her she should be revenged. And she was revenged on all who offended her; on Goodman Chilman, who said she had stolen a pigge, and who therefore she wished might die--and her Impe destroyed him; on Goodman Woodcot, in whose High (hoy?) her son had been drowned, when "she wished that God might be her revenger, which was her watchword to the Divell"--and the hoy was cast away, as she conceived, in consequence of her wish. And did not Joan Williford's imp tell her that "though the Boate went chearfully oute it should not come so chearfully home?" She said further that sundry good wives, named, had "ill tongues;" and that she had made a covenant with the devil, written in the blood which she had scratched with her nails from out her breast. Alexander Sussums of Melford, Sussex, said he had things which drew his marks, and that he could not help being a witch, for all his kindred were naught--his mother and aunt hanged, his grandmother burnt, and ten others questioned and hanged. At Faversham about this time, three witches were hanged, one of whom had an imp-dog, Bun; and on the 9th of September[135] Jane Lakeland was burnt at Ipswich for having bewitched to death her husband, and Mrs. Jennings' maid, who once refused her a needle and dunned her for a shilling. Jane Lakeland had contracted with the devil twenty years ago. He came to her when between sleeping and waking, speaking to her in a hollow voice, and offering her her will if she would covenant with him. To which she, assenting, he then stroke his claw into her hand and with her blood wrote out the covenant. She had bewitched men and women and cows and corn, and sunk ships, and played all the devilries of her art, but remained ever unsuspected, holding the character of a pious woman, and going regularly to church and sacrament. She had three imps--two little dogs and a mole--and Hopkins burnt her as the best way of settling the question of her sanity or disease. It would have been well for all these poor people if their respective judges--Sir Matthew Hale included--had had only as much liberality and common sense as Mr. Gaule, the minister of Stoughton in Huntingdonshire; for though Gaule was no wise minded to give up his belief either in the devil or in witches, he utterly repudiated Matthew Hopkins and his tribe and his ways, and condemned his whole manner of proceeding, from first to last. He preached against him, and when he heard a rumour of his visiting Stoughton he strongly opposed him, whereupon Matthew wrote this insolent letter, which Mr. Gaule printed as a kind of preface to his book of "Select Cases," put out soon after. "My Service to your Worship presented. I have this Day received a letter, &c., to come to a Town called Great Stoughton, to search for evil disposed Persons, called Witches (though I heare your Minister is farre against us through Ignorance:) I intend to come the sooner to heare his singular Judgement in the Behalfe of such Parties; I have known a Minister in Suffolk preach as much against this Discovery in a Pulpit, and forced to recant it, (by the Committee) in the same place. I much marvaile such evil Members should have any (much more any of the Clergy) who should dayly preach Terrour to convince such Offenders, stand up to take their Parts, against such as are Complainants for the King and Sufferers themselves, with their Families and Estates. I intend to give your Towne a visite suddenly. I am to come to Kimbolton this Week, and it shall be tenne to one, but I will come to your Town first, but I would certainly know afore, whether your Town affords many Sticklers for such Cattell, or willing to give and afford as good Welcome and Entertainment, as other where I have beene, else I shall wave your Shire, (not as yet beginning in any Part of it myself) and betake me to such Places, where I doe, and may persist without Controle, but with Thanks and Recompense. So I humbly take my leave and rest, Your Servant to be Commanded, "MATTHEW HOPKINS." I have not been able to find what was the result of this letter, but I do not suppose that Hopkins, who was a great coward like all tyrants, cared to brave even the small danger of one minister's opposition, not knowing how many "sticklers for such cattle" might be at his back. In his Apology, or "Certaine Queries Answered, which have been and are likely to be objected against Matthew Hopkins, in his way of finding out Witches," he says that "he never went to any towne or place, but they rode, writ, or sent often for him, and were (for ought he knew) glad of him;" and if this was true, Mr. Gaule most likely was rid of him at Great Stoughton, and one rood of English land left undefiled. Besides, his hands were full elsewhere; for when we think that at Bury St. Edmunds eighteen persons were hanged on one day alone, and a hundred and twenty more left lying in prison, all through his instrumentality, we must imagine that he had enough to do in places where he was caressed and desired, not to forbear troubling those where he was abhorred and might run some danger. MR. CLARK'S EXAMPLES. A few other men, too, were about as sane as Mr. Gaule on this maddest of all mad subjects. Mr. Clark, a minister--and the ministers were generally the worst--had a marvellous allowance of common sense, remembering the times. A certain parishioner of his cried out that she was grievously beset by a neighbour who came in the spirit, that is, as an apparition, to teaze and torment her. Mr. Clark, the minister, knew the accused woman, and believed in her innocency; but it happened one day, by one of those curious coincidences which, by-the-bye, are so often exaggerated into far more significance than they deserve, that the suspected woman while milking her cow was struck by it on the forehead, and naturally fell a-bleeding. At that moment, or said to be at that moment, her "spectre" appeared to the afflicted person, and she, pointing out the place where it stood, desired some of those who were with her to strike at it. They did so, and she said they fetched blood. Hereupon a posse of them went to the supposed witch, and found her with her forehead bleeding, just as the afflicted had said. There was no question now of doubt, and they rushed off to Mr. Clark to tell them what they had seen, and demand that she be put to the proof. Mr. Clark went to the woman and asked what had made her forehead bleed? She told him, a blow from her cow's horn; "whereby he was satisfy'd that it was a Design of Satan to render an innocent person suspected." Another instance of the same kind of thing happened at Cambridge. A man believed that a certain widow sent her imps, as cats, to bewitch and torment him. One night as he lay in bed one of these imps came within reach, and he struck it on the back: when it vanished away, as was to be expected. The next day the man sent to inquire of his old enemy, and found that she had a sore back; at which he rejoiced exceedingly, having now in his hands the clew which would guide him to revenge and her to justice and the scaffold. But Mr. Day, her surgeon, stopped his triumph before it was ripe, and cut the clew before it had spun out; telling him that the sore back was nothing but a boil, which had gathered, headed, and healed, like any other boil, and that it could have had no connexion whatever with the blow which he had so valiantly given the cat-imp when in bed. So this bit of cruelty was put a stop to, and the poor old creature, with a boil on her back, slept her last sleep unhastened by the hangman. Another wretched being who had been kept without sleep or food for twenty-four hours, pricked, tried, and tortured into a state of temporary imbecility, at last confessed to her imp Nan; but a gentleman in the neighbourhood, very indignant at the folly and barbarity of the whole thing, rescued the poor victim, and made her eat some meat and go to sleep. When she woke up she said she knew nothing of what she had confessed, but that she had a pullet which she sometimes called Nan, and which of a surety was no imp, but an honest little hen that had to lay good eggs some day, and be eaten at table when her work was done. THE NEWCASTLE PRICKERS. Hopkins was not the only one of his trade in England, for Ralph Gardner, in his "England's Grievance Discovered" (1655), speaks of two prickers, Thomas Shovel and Cuthbert Nicholson, who, in 1649 and 1650, were sent by the Newcastle magistrates into Scotland, there to confer with a very able man in that line, and bring him back to Newcastle. They were to have twenty shillings, but the Scotchman three pounds, per head of all they could convict, and a free passage there and back. When these wretches got to any town--for they tried all the chief market towns of the district--the crier used to go round with his bell, desiring "all people that would bring in any complaint against any woman for a witch, they should be sent for and tryed by the person appointed." As many as thirty women were brought at once into the Newcastle town-hall, stript, pricked, and twenty-seven set aside as guilty. This said witch-finder told Lieut.-Colonel Hobson that "he knew women, whether they were witches or no, by their looks; and when the said person was searching of a personable and good-like woman, the said Colonel replyed and said, Surely this woman is none, and need not be tried; but the Scotchman said she was, for all the Town said she was, and therefore he would try her: and presently, in sight of all the people, laid her body naked to the Waste, with her cloaths over her head, by which Fright and Shame all her bloud contracted into one part of her body, and then he ran a Pin into her Thigh, and then suddenly let her Coats fall, and then demanded whether she had nothing of his in her body, but did not bleed, but she, being amazed, replied little, and then he put his hand up her coats and pulled out the pin and set her aside as a guilty person and child of the Devil, and fell to try others, whom he made guilty. Lieut.-Colonel Hobson, perceiving the alteration of the foresaid woman by her blood settling in her right parts, caused that woman to be brought again, and her cloaths pulled up to her Thigh, and required the Scot to run the pin in the same place, and then it gushed out of blood, and the said Scot cleared her, and said she was not a child of the Devil." If this Scotch witch-finder had not been stopped he would have found half the women in the north country witches; at last Henry Ogle got hold of him, and "required Bond of him to answer the Sessions;" but he got away to Scotland, and so escaped for the time. Fifteen women lay in prison, charged by him, and were executed--all protesting their innocence; and "one of them, by name Margaret Brown, beseeched God that some remarkable sign might be seen at the time of their execution, to evidence their innocency; and as soon as ever she was turned off the Ladder her blood gushed out upon the people to the admiration of the beholders." Which touching little history we must relegate to the realms of fable and delusion, like others just as sad and supernatural. This precious wretch (was it John Kincaid?) was hung in Scotland, when the magistrates and people had got tired of him and his cruelty, and at "the gallows he confessed that he had been the death of two hundred and twenty men and women in England and Scotland, simply for the sake of the twenty shillings a head blood-money." Truly it was time for brave Ralph Gardner to write his bold and scorching "England's Grievance Discovered," when such monstrous crimes as these might be done without even the colour of a monstrous law. In "Sykes's Local Records" mention is made of a curious little entry in the parish books of Gateshead, near Newcastle: "Paid as M{ris} Watson's when the Justices call to examine witches, 3{s} 4{d}; for a graue for a witch, 6{d}; for trying the witches, £1. 5." This was in 1649, in which year Jean Martin, "the myller's wyfe of Chattim," was executed for a witch, and the authorities of Berwick sent for the witch-finder to come and try witches there, promising that no violence should be done him by the townspeople. In the parish register of Hart, under the date of July 28, 1582, the office of Master Chancellor against Allison Lawe, of Hart, was brought into requisition. Allison was "a notourious sorcerer and enchanter," but was pulled up in the midst of her evil career, and sentenced to a milder punishment than she would have had a century later. Notorious witch and enchanter as she was, all she had to suffer was open penance once in the market-place at Durham, with a paper on her head setting forth her offences, once in Hart church, and once in Norton church; but what was the award to Janet Bainbridge and Jannet Allinson, of Stockton, "for asking counsell of witches, and resorting to Allison Lawe for the cure of the sicke," we are not told. The madness which possessed all men's minds in the next century had not then begun to rage: the storm that was to burst over the world was then giving forth only its warning mutterings, and it was reserved for a later age, with all its progress in art and science and freedom of thought and religious knowledge, to lay the coping-stone to the most monstrous temple of iniquity which fear has ever raised to ignorance. It is a humiliating thought; humiliating, too, the milder phases of this same fury which have so often possessed society; but it must be remembered that, though each wave of the tide recedes, each succeeding wave dashes farther over the reach, and the long lines of sea-wrack mark the point of progress as well as the point of declension. THE WITCH IN THE BRAKE.[136] At Droitwich, in Worcestershire, a boy, looking for his mother's cow, saw a bush in a brake move as if something was there. Thinking it to be his mother's cow he went to the place, but found no cow, only an old woman who cried "Ooh!" and so frightened the lad that he could not speak intelligibly. But no one knew what he meant by his strange mouthings and mutterings, until one day, seeing the old woman eating porridge before Sir Edward Barret's door, he rushed up to her, and flung her porridge in her face, and otherwise behaved violently and ill. The neighbours, thinking there was something in it, apprehended her as a witch, and took her to the Checker Prison. At night, the mother of the boy, hearing a great noise overhead, ran up stairs and found her son with the leg of a form in his hand, fighting furiously with something in the window; but what it was she could not see. He then put on his clothes and ran to the prison, midway recovering his speech. When he got there he found that the gaoler had kept the witch without food or sleep till she would say the Lord's Prayer and "God bless the boy:" which pious exercise she had completed at the very moment when his speech was restored. When the boy complained to the gaoler of his negligence in letting her out to hurt and annoy him, the gaoler answered that he had kept her very safe. "Nay," says the boy, "for she came and sat in my chamber window, and grinned at me; whereupon I took up a form and banged her:" the gaoler looked and they found the marks. She was a Lancashire woman, who, when Duke Hamilton was defeated, and there was a scarcity in those parts, "wandred abroad to get victuals." She was hanged, poor half-starved vagrant! THE TEWKESBURY WITCH THAT SUCKED THE SOW. About the same time a Tewkesbury man had a sow and a litter of pigs: the sow with abundance of milk, but the pigs lean and miserable. He concluded that something which had no right to it came and robbed his piglings of their milk; so he watched; and sure enough a "black four-footed Creature like a Pole-Cat" came and beat away the pigs and sucked the sow; but the farmer got a pitchfork and ran it into the thigh of the pole-cat, which struggled so mightily that, though it was nailed to the ground, it got away and made off. When he asked some neighbours, standing near, what they had seen, they said they had only seen a wench go by, with blood falling from her as she went. They caught the wench and searched her, and, sure enough, found her wounded as the man said he had wounded the thing sucking his sow. She was apprehended, tried, and hanged, because she made herself into a creature like a black pole-cat, and went and sucked the farmers' sows. "These two Relations, I received from a Person of Quality, of good Ability and of unquestionable Credit, who was present at both the Tryals, and wrote them in his Presence, and afterwards read them to him; and he assured me they were very true in all the Particulars, as they were given in Evidence," says the author of the "Collection of Modern Relations" complacently. THE DEVIL'S DELUSION.[137] That same year, in the month of July, a man and woman, John Palmer and Elizabeth Knott, were hanged at St. Albans for curing folks of disease without the leave and license of the authorities, and by the aid of the devil. John made some curious revelations. He said, first of all, that Marsh of Dunstable was the head of the whole college of witches, and that he could do more than all the rest. Then he went on to say that he, John Palmer, had held a blood covenant with the devil for sixty years, and that he bore his brand; also that he had two imps, "George," a dog, and "Jezabell," a woman, who did what he would. He had seduced to himself and his arts Elizabeth Knott, his kinswoman; and both together they made a clay picture of goodwife Pearls of Norton, which they put under some embers, and as the picture consumed away, so did goodwife Pearls--miserably and fatally. This was out of revenge for hanging a lock on his door because he did not pay his rent. Then he sent "George" to kill Cleaver's horses; and Elizabeth killed John Laman's cow by sending her imp, which was a cat. The cat had promised that she should have all she wanted, save money; but poor Elizabeth Knott did not add that puss had promised to give them a halter and the gallows at the end of their revenge: which would have been the only truth in the whole relation. She killed Laman's cow, she said, because she had been teazed for money due to him, or rather to his wife. When she was swum, her cat imp came up to her and sucked upon her breast; so she said, poor raving creature: but when she was taken out of the water she never saw it more. Palmer also confessed that once he lay as a toad in the way of a young man he hated, to get himself hurt. The young man kicked the toad, and Palmer had a sore shin; but he bewitched the youth, so that he languished for years in woe and torment. Then is given the list of all the people bedevilled and bewitched by these two persons, and the account is signed, "Yours, Misodaimon." Misodaimon would have done better if he could have called himself Philalethes. THE WITCH OF WAPPING. In April, 1652, Joan Peterson, the witch of Wapping, was hanged at Tyburn in just retribution of her sins. Joan had long had an ugly name in that mean house of hers on the small island near Shadwell; for she was known to heal the sick in a manner more suggestive than satisfactory, and she had a black beast that used to suck her: which every one knew was the art and function of an imp. That this was true of her who could doubt, for a man said he had seen it, and it took even less direct testimony than this to prove a woman a witch. Let the sceptical read the "Country Justice" to see what subtle threads were strong enough for a witch-halter! One evening a neighbour woman was watching by the cradle of a child who was strangely distempered. In jumped a black cat, coming no one knew whence, and stopped her cradling. This woman, and another watching with her, flung the fire-fork at the cat, when it vanished as quickly as it had come. In an hour's time it came again from the other side: one of the women raised her foot and kicked it; and immediately her foot and leg swelled, and were very sore and painful. Then, terrified, they called the master of the house, told him that they could not watch in a place so beset with evil spirits, and left him and the child to get on as they could. On their way home they lighted on a baker, who told them that he had just met a big black cat which had affrighted him so that his hair stood all on end; and when the women told their tale, he said "on his conscience he thought it was Mother Peterson, for he had met her going towards the island a little while before." When on his oath, under examination, this valiant baker declared that he had never been afraid of any cat before in his life; and to a further question answered, "No, he had never seen such a cat before, and he hoped in God he should never see the like again." But what connection old Joan Peterson was assumed to have with this mysterious black cat remains a mystery to this day: it was none to the judge and jury, who condemned her to be hanged with safe and tranquil minds. THE GEOLOGICAL BEWITCHMENT.[138] In April, 1652, Mary Ellins, aged nine years, daughter of Edward Ellins, of Evesham in the county of Worcester, was playing in the fields with some neighbours' children. They were gathering cowslips in a pretty innocent way, in which it would have been well if they had been contented to remain; but on passing by a ditch they saw crouching therein one Catherine Huxley, an old woman of no very good repute, generally supposed to be a witch of the worst kind, and quick at casting an evil eye when offended. The children seeing her, took up stones to throw at her, calling her "witch" and other opprobrious names; whereat old Catherine cursed them, and especially Mary Ellins, who made herself conspicuous as the chief tormentor. Her curses had the desired effect. Mary went home, bewitched, and who but Catherine had done it? For ever from that day she had strange and troublesome passages with stones, so that it seemed as if the child had fed upon stones, and nothing but stones, of all kinds of geological formation. Scores of people went to see them: they were handled, and looked at, and reasoned about, and discussed, and yet so many as ever might come away, more still remained behind, and the supply was never failing. When Mary's extraordinary power of elaborating flint and granite and boulder and pebble in her young body had become troublesome and expensive, and the parents wanted to get rid of the whole concern, they undertook the prosecution of old Catherine, and _on this evidence alone, that she had cursed their daughter, and that their daughter had since then had extraordinary discharges of stones_, the old woman was condemned and executed--hung up as a public show at Worcester in the bonny summer months of 1652. As soon as she was hanged Mary had instant and complete relief; and hid no more pebbles in her pockets to delude good, credulous, prayerful Mr. Baxter into the profound belief that she was bewitched. THE BURNING BEWITCHMENT.[139] Brightling of Sussex, too, where now we have our sea-side London, was under a cloud, with the devil in actual human form possessing the place and haunting good folk out of their proper wits; for Joseph Cruttenden's house was bewitched, and they were sore holden how to restore the spirit of grace within it, and exorcise the spirit of evil. Joseph Cruttenden had a young servant girl, to whom one day came an old woman, unknown, saying to her that sad calamities were coming on her master's family by-and-bye, but that she was not to speak of them to any one; for he and his dame should be haunted, and their house fired and bewitched. She was to be particularly careful not to give warning of this to any, for if she did, the devil would tear her in pieces. The girl kept her own counsel; of course she did; there would have been no sport else: and that very night the troubles began. As Joseph and his wife lay in bed, dirt and dust and rubbish of all kinds were thrown at them, so that there was no way of escaping the handfuls of filth flung fast and furiously, and all the doors and windows shook as with a storm, though the air was still outside. On another night the house was set on fire in many places at once, flashing out like gunpowder; and as fast as one corner was extinguished another began; for they had no sooner trodden out the ashes and gone to another part, than they flamed up afresh, and they had all their work to do over again. Some said that a thing like a black bull was seen tumbling about in the flames; but Mr. Baxter halts at this, and declines to endorse it. At another time the furniture was all flung about, and a wooden "tut" came flying through the air, and a horseshoe struck the man on the breast, and there was no peace night or day for the black bull, the fire, and all the other things besetting. And then the man confessed that he had been a thief long time agone, whereby Satan had this extraordinary power over him; and the girl, despising the threat of the devil's tearing her to pieces, confessed to her mistress what the old woman had said. So the country was searched for an old woman answering the maid's description, and a poor old wretch was pitched upon as being most like. She was sent for and examined--watched for twenty-four hours; but nothing seems to have come of it this time. The girl "thought" she was "like" the same woman as had spoken to her, yet declined to swear positively. But the old woman had a bad name. She had been suspected as a witch before, "and been had to Maidstone to clear herself," which it seems she had done, for she got off, and had been living near Brightling ever since. She had a narrow escape now, for the country people were much excited against her, and naturally did not wish the presence of one who could haunt their houses with fire and dirt, and a big black bull tumbling about at his will. Had the maid had one grain less of conscience, this nameless wretch would have closed her earthly career a few years too soon; as it was she got off, and "lived miserably about Burwast ever since." It was a small sign of grace in that young jade that she would not swear away the life of an innocent woman to conceal her own childish tricks. It was not often that the accusing witnesses showed even this scant mercy to their victims, for the excitement of the game seemed to be in the largest amount of cruelty that could be perpetrated within the rules. THE STRINGY MEAT.[140] "Kent, the first Christian, last conquered, and one of the most flourishing and fruitful Provinces of England, is the Scene, and the beautiful Town of Maidstone, the Stage, whereon this Tragicall Story was publicly acted at Maidstone Assizes, last past." In this Christian province and most beautiful country, Anne Ashby, Anne Martyn, Mary Browne, Mildred Wright, and Anne Wilson, all of Cranbrooke, and Mary Reade, of Lenham, were brought before Sir Peter Warburton, charged with "the Execrable and Diabolicall crime of Witchcraft." Anne Ashby, "who was the chiefe Actresse, and who had the greatest part in this Tragedy," and Anne Martyn were "confessing" witches; but their confessions did not amount to much, compared with the more highly spiced accounts of other witches. That they had both known the devil as a man, and in dishonesty and sin, was of course one of the chief items of their confession, as it was of most witches; but Anne Ashby further informed the Bench that the devil had given them each a piece of flesh, which, whensoever they should touch, would give them their desires; and that this piece of flesh was hid somewhere among the grass. As was proved: for upon search it was found. Of a sinewy substance and scorched was this redoubtable talisman, for it was both seen and felt by this Observator, E. G., and reserved for public view at the sign of the Swan in Maidstone. Anne Ashby had an imp too, called "Rug," which sometimes came out of her mouth like a mouse, and was of so malicious and venificall a nature that a certain groom belonging to Colonel Humfrey's regiment, for sport, said, "Come Rug into my mouth," and the said groom was dead in a fortnight after: "as it is reported," adds E. G. with saving grace. Anne was hysterical, poor soul: and "in view of this Observation, fell into an extasie before the Bench, and swell'd into a monstrous and vast bigness, screeching and crying out dolefully." When she recovered they asked her if she had been possessed by the devil at that time, to which she made answer "that she did not know that, but that her Spirit Rug had come out of her mouth like a mouse." After they were "cast" and judgment had been pronounced against them she and Anne Martyn pleaded that they were with child: but, being pressed on this point, they confessed that it was by no man of honest flesh and blood, but by the devil, their customary spouse. The plea was not suffered to stand. For proof against the rest, all that is recorded by E. G. is, that when pricked neither Mary Browne, nor Anne Wilson, nor yet Mildred Wright felt pain, or lost blood; and that Mary Read had a visible teat under her tongue which she did show to this Observator as well as to many others. But they were all hanged, at the common place of execution; though some there were who wished that they might be burnt instead, for burning had such virtue, that it prevented the blood of a witch "becomming hereditary to her Progeny in the same evill, which by hanging is not." The hangers, however, carried the day, and the blood of the progeny was left to take its chance of hereditary evil. It was supposed that these six witches, to whom were added five other persons, had bewitched nine children, one man, and one woman, lost five hundred pounds' worth of cattle, and wrecked much corn at sea. THE LOST WIFE.[141] That same month and year saw a strange matter of witchcraft at Warwick. "In Warwick Town one Mrs. Katherine Atkins, a Mercer's Wife, standing at her Door on Saturday night, the 24 July 1652. A certain unknown Woman came to her and sayd, Mistris, pray give me two-pence, she answered, two-pences are not so plentifull, and that she would give her no Mony. Pray Mistress, sayd she, then give me that Pin, so she took the Pin off her sleeve and gave her, for which she was very thankfull, and was going away. Mistress Atkins seeing her so thankfull for a Pin, called her again, and told her if she would stay, she would fetch some victuals for her, or give her some thread, or something out of the shop. She answered, she would have nothing else, and bid a pox of her victuals, and swore (by God) saying, You shall be an hundred miles off within this week, when you shall want two-pence as much as I, and so she went grumbling away. "Hereupon the sayd Mistress Atkins was much troubled in mind, and did advise with some Friends what were best to be done in such a case, but receiving no resolution from any one what to do, she attended the Event what might befall within such a time, and upon the 29 of July she exprest to a kinsman, Mr. Nicholas Bikar, that she was much troubled about the forsayd businesse, but hoped the time was so much expired, that it would come to nothing. "But the sayd Thursday night, betwixt the hours of 8 and 9, She, going into the Shop, and returning thence in the Entry adjoyning to the sayd Shop, she was immediately gone, by what means and whither we do not know, nor can we hear of upon enquiry made to this present. "The desire of her Husband and Friends is of all the Inhabitants of this Nation, That if they hear of any such Party in such a lost condition as is before expressed, That there may be speedy Notice given thereof to her Husband in Warwick, and that all convenient Provisions, both of Horse and Mony may be made for the conveying of her to the place aforesayd, and such as shall take pains, or be at expences herein shall be sufficiently recompenced for the same, with many thanks. "It's likewise desired that Ministers in London, and elsewhere, when the notice of these presents shall come, would be pleased to present her sad condition to God in their severall Congregations. The truth hereof we testifie, whose names are subscribed. { Richard Vennour. John Halleford. { Hen. Butler, Ministers of Warwick. { Joseph Fisher, Minister. DR. LAMB AND HIS DARLING.[142] Dr. Lamb, Buckingham's domestic physician in times past, and his maid Anne Bodenham, both met with a tragical fate, though not in the same year, for Dr. Lamb was brutally murdered for a conjuror and wizard by a mob in 1640, while Anne Bodenham was not executed until 1653. That Lamb was a terrible necromancer is testified by Richard Baxter, in his 'World of Spirits,' a book "written for the conviction of Sadducees and Infidels," but which now would convince none but the weak or half crazed of anything beyond Richard Baxter's own exceeding credulity and want of critical faculty. His story of Dr. Lamb's necromancy is so curious, it had better be given verbatim, for to translate would be to ruin it. "Dr. Lamb, who was killed by the Mob for a Conjuror about 1640, met one Morning Sir Miles Sands and Mr. Barbor in the Street, and invited them to go and drink their Mornings Draught at his House: Discoursing about his Art, he told them that if they would hold their Tongues, and their Hands from medling with any thing, he would shew them some Sport. So falling to his Practice in the middle of the Room springs up a Tree; sone after appeared three little Fellows, with Axes on their Shoulders, and Baskets in their Hands, who presently fell to work, cut down the Tree, and carried all away. But Mr. Barbor observing one Chip to fall on his Velvet Coat, he slips it into his Pocket, That Night when he and his Family were in Bed, and asleep, all the Doors and Windows in the House opened and clattered, so as to awaken and affright them all. His Wife said, _Husband, you told me you was at Dr. Lamb's this Day, and I fear you medled with something_. He replied, _I put a Chip into my Pocket_. _I pray you_, said she, _fling it out, or we shall have no Quiet_. He did so, and all the Windows and Doors were presently shut, and all quiet, so they went to sleep." With such powers of conjuration and sorcery as these, it is not surprising if Dr. Lamb's character tainted that of Anne Bodenham his maid; for the very fact of their living together under the same roof was inimical enough to Anne's reputation. We hear nothing of her for some years, beyond that she lived near New Sarum, was married to one Edward Bodenham, "clothyer," and that she was eighty years of age at the time of her trial. So at least says Edmund Bower, in his "Doctor Lamb revived." But her getting into trouble at all proves that she had long lived under the suspicion of commonly practising witchcraft and sorcery; for Anne Styles, the accuser, had been backwards and forwards to her on her own account scores of times, and thought nothing of it; neither was it considered wonderful when Mr. Mason, son-in-law of Richard Goddard, Anne Styles's master, sent her to Anne Bodenham to learn now their lawsuit would turn. Bodenham, who had a knack of "foretelling things to come, and helping men to their stolen goods, and other such like feats," expressed no surprise, but at once began her conjurations. "She took her staff, and there drew it about the house, making a kinde of a Circle, and then took a book, and carrying it over the Circle with her hands, and taking a green glasse, did lay it upon the book, and placed in the Circle an earthern Pan of Coals, wherein she threw something, which burning caused a very noisome stink, and told the Maid she should not be afraid of what she should then see, for now they would come (they are the words she used), and so calling Belzebub, Tormentor, Satan, and Lucifer appear, there suddenly arose a very high wind, which made the house shake, and presently the back door of the house flying open, there came five Spirits, as the Maid supposed, in the likenesse of ragged Boyes, some bigger than others, and ran about the House, where she had drawn the staff: and the witch threw down upon the ground crums of bread, which the Spirits picked up, and leapt over the Pan of Coals oftentimes, which she set in the midst of the Circle, and a Dog and a Cat of the witches danced with them; and after some time the witch looked again in her book, and threw some great white Seeds upon the ground, which the said Spirits picked up, and so in a short time the wind was laid and the witch going forth at the back door the Spirits vanished." After which Anne told the girl that Mr. Mason should demand fifteen hundred pounds, and one hundred and fifty pounds per annum of Mr. Goddard, and if it was denied he was to take the law and prosecute. For all which Anne Bodenham received the sum of three shillings: little enough too, considering the charges she must have been at for noisome roots and magic lanthorns, not to speak of the chance of being haled off to prison whenever the maid Anne Styles might choose to accuse her. Another time Anne Styles was sent to her by Mrs. Goddard, to find where was hidden the poison which she said her two young step-daughters were designing to give her, but which Anne Styles herself had bought, as she said, by the witch's request. This Anne Bodenham denied. The witch took her stick as before, going through the same forms of conjuration; when on her adjuring "Belzebub, Tormentor, Lucifer, Satan," to appear, there came out of the mist first a little boy, who then turned into a snake, and then into "a shagged dog with great eyes, which went about in the Circle." And after she had burnt her noisome herbs again, and looked in her Magic book--her Book of Charms as she called it--she took a glass and showed in that "Mistress Sarah Goddard's Chamber, the colour of the Curtains, and the bed turned up the wrong way, and under that part of the bed where the Bolster laye she shewed the poison in a white paper." It was no discredit to maid or witch that this poisoning matter was found a mere suspicion and delusion, and that the young ladies never designed to poison their mother-in-law; though she, on the other hand, sent to Bodenham for charms and poisons against them. This time Anne got vervain and dill, which the little ragged boys (spectres, or spirits, or imps) gathered for her, in return for which she threw them bread which they ate, dancing about, then vanished on their mistress reading in her book. The witch gave the maid the leaves powdered, and dried--one packet of each--while, in a third packet, she put the parings of her nails; all of which the maid was to give to her mistress. The powder was to be put into Mistresses Sarah and Anne Goddard's drink or broth, to give them hideous indigestion rather too coarsely expressed for modern reading; the leaves were to rub about the rim of the pot, to make their teeth fall out of their heads; and the paring of the nails to make them drunk and mad. But Mrs. Goddard only laughed when she got these charms, and said "they were brave things:" she did not use them, luckily for her; though the young ladies would not have been much the worse, save for the white poison before mentioned. Anne Bodenham had taken a great fancy to this servant girl, and wanted her to live with her, telling her that she would teach her all she knew, and enable her to do as she did; asking her, too, whether she would go to London high or low: for if high she should be carried through the air and be there in two hours, if low she should be taken at Sutton's town end, and before, "unless she had help." When she thus sought to seduce the girl, Anne Styles asked what she could do, whereupon Bodenham incontinently appeared in the form of a great black cat, and lay along by the chimney; but the girl being much frightened, she appeared in her own shape again, and tempted her no more. But first, before she would let her go, she made her swear to seal with her body and blood a vow that she would never discover what she had seen; so she took her forefinger and pricked it, and filled a pen with the blood, and made her write in a book, one of the imps--like "great boys with long shagged black hair," this time--having his hand or claw on the witch's, while Anne Styles wrote. And when she had done writing, the witch said "Amen," and the maid said "Amen," and the spirits said "Amen" each: and the spirit gave the witch a bit of silver for the maid, which he first bit. The maid's hand touched his, and she found that his was cold. Then Bodenham stuck two pins in her head-dress, which she bid her keep, and be gone; saying, "I will vex the Gentlewoman well enough, as I did the man in Clarington Park; which I made walk about with a bundle of Pales on his back all night in a pond of water, and could not lay them down till the next morning." The piece of silver, and the hole in her forefinger, the maid showed the judge and jury in the trial; and both were held to be conclusive evidence against Dr. Lamb's unfortunate "Darling." How far Anne Styles may be believed is not difficult to determine; for as to the conjurations about poisoning Mrs. Goddard, it came out that she, the maid, had gone to the apothecary's for an ounce of arsenic; and then set abroad the report that the two young ladies had bought it for the purpose of poisoning their step-mother. As the young ladies were not disposed to sit down quietly under this suspicion, they had the report sifted to the bottom, and Anne Styles fled in fear; which was the meaning of the witch's demanding how she would like to go to London--high or low--by witch's art, or justice's power. Mr. Chandler, Mr. Goddard's son-in-law, pursued her, and overtook her at Sutton-town end; when, to save herself from the unpleasant consequences of her various misdeeds, beginning with stealing a silver spoon and ending with buying arsenic, she made this "confession," which was safety to her but death to old Anne. Anne earnestly and passionately denied every word the girl said: whereupon Anne Styles, to give greater colour to her story, fell into fits, so strong that six men could not hold her. She was drawn up high into the air--so at least runs the report--her feet as high as the spectators' breasts; and she had scuffles with a black man with no head, who came and tumbled her about, as a little boy deposed. The little boy was sleeping in the same room with her, and he said that the black spirit came to her, and wanted her soul, but the maid answered her soul was none of hers to give; that he had got her blood already, but should never have her soul; and after a tumbling and throwing of her about rarely, he vanished away. At another time the witch was brought to the maid suddenly, when she instantly closed her eyes and fell back in so deep a sleep that they could not by any means awaken her; but so soon as the witch had gone, she woke up of herself, and was quite well. Anne Bodenham was condemned to die, and there was no help for her; but when sentence was passed, Anne Styles fell to bitter weeping and wailing, lamenting her own wickedness, and willing that the witch should be reprieved, if possible to the law. This was taken as a sign of her sweet and loving Christian spirit of forgiveness; we, who read such signs more clearly by the light of a better knowledge, know that it meant simply the weak pity of a selfish conscience, grieving for its sin, yet afraid to retract and make amends. Beside all this evidence, and its lies, Anne Bodenham had a tame toad which she wore in a green bag round her neck; and she had a great deal of natural clairvoyance and mesmeric power; and she was evidently a highly superstitious woman, who believed in her own powers, and was not unwilling to aid them by a little extra supernaturalism and good mechanical tricks. But she would confess to no witchcraft; knew nothing of a Red Book half written over in blood, which red book with its bloody writing contained a catalogue of those who had sold themselves to the devil; though she acknowledged that she had a Book of Charms, much as a servant maid of to-day might have a Book of Dreams: and that she could say the Creed backwards as well as forwards; and that she sometimes prayed to the planet Jupiter. The time-honoured belief in astrology and the power of the planets might well linger in the brain of an old country woman, who had a smattering of knowledge far beyond her station, and who had dabbled in mechanics and the art of conjuring; who could not, moreover, understand her own sensitive condition; and who had the alternative, as one of the witnesses said, of passing for a witch or a woman of God. The judge and jury had a very distinct idea as to which category she ought to be placed in; and fully believed what James Bower reports, that she could turn herself into a "mastive Dog, a black Lyon, a white Bear, a Woolf, a Monkey, a Horse, a Bull, and a Calf." Such a woman as this had no business here on this solid earth, so she was hanged at Salisbury, 1653, dying very hard and completely crazed. Before the hour came she wrote a letter to her husband desiring him never to live in his own house again; and she asked the woman who was to "shroud" her, to root up all her garden herbs and flowers when she should be dead; and she clamoured for a knife to stick into her heart; and she wanted to die drunk, calling for beer on her way to execution, and giving her gaolers much trouble to hold her in at all; and she would have no psalm sung, and no prayer read, and would forgive none of them, but cursed them all fiercely as she stood on the rungs of the ladder despairing and defying. So miserably she died, poor old wretch! and Anne Styles never looked up again into the fair face of heaven without the stain of blood across her hand, and the brand of Cain on her brow. THE SPRIGHTLY LAD OF SOMERSETSHIRE.[143] One certain Sunday afternoon, in November 1657, Richard Jones, "a sprightly youth of twelve," living at Shepton Mallet, in Somersetshire, being left at home alone, and looking abroad as sprightly youth will, saw an old woman of the place, by name Jane Brooks, look in at the window. He went to the door to see what she wanted, when she asked him to give her a piece of "close bread," and she would give him an apple. He did so, and she thanked him, stroked him down the right side, shook him by the hand, and bade him good night. When the father and our coz. Gibson came back, they found the sprightly youth ill, and complaining of pain in the right side. He continued in the same state through the night, and on the following day became much worse, falling into fits of speechlessness, &c., immediately after having roasted and eaten the apple which Jane Brooks had given him. He then told the father that an old woman of the place, name unknown but person remembered, had stroked his right side, and thus had caused his illness; whereupon his father decided that all the women of Shepton Mallet should come to see him, and that in case he was in his fit, and not able to speak when the true witch came, he should give a "jogg," which would be sufficiently expressive. All the women of Shepton Mallet were brought in by turns; but the boy remained quiet until Jane Brooks appeared, when he fell into a fit, and was for some time unable to see or speak. Recovering himself, "he gave his father the Item," and drew towards Jane. She was standing behind her two sisters, but the boy singled her out and put his hand upon her; which the father seeing, he flew on the poor creature, scratched her face "above her breath," and drew blood. After this rather rough manner of exorcism, Master Richard Jones cried out that he was well, and condescended to remain well for seven or eight days. But at the end of this time, Alice Coward, sister to Jane, happening to meet him and to say, "How do you do, my Honey?" he fell ill again, and "cried out" on them without intermission. One Sunday he was in his fits, his father and cousin Gibson with him as usual, when he suddenly exclaimed that he "saw Jane Brooks there"--pointing to the wall. Cousin Gibson at once struck a knife into the spot; whereupon the sprightly youth cried, "O father, couz Gibson hath cut Jane Brooks's hand, and 'tis Bloody." The father and Gibson on this went to the constable, "a discreet Person," and telling him what had happened, took him with them to Jane's house, where they found her sitting on a stool, with one hand over the other. After a few questions they drew her hand away, and found that which was underneath all bloody; which appearance she explained away as well as she could, by saying that it was scratched with a great pin. This kind of thing going on for some time, the pitiful plot grew ripe for execution, and on the 8th of December Jane Brooks and her sister, Alice Coward, were taken to Castle Cary to be examined by the justices, Mr. Hunt and Mr. Cary. Here Richard performed all the usual tricks of the bewitched, lying speechless and motionless while the suspected women were in the room; springing up into tetanic fits if they laid their hands upon him, or so much as looked towards him; bringing on himself, by his own will, convulsive fits and catalepsy, and many of the more violent symptoms of hysteria, and insisting that the two women came constantly to see him--as apparitions--"their Hands cold, their Eyes staring, and their Lips and Cheeks looking pale." "In this manner on a Thursday about Noon, the Boy being newly laid in his Bed, Jane Brooks and Alice Coward appeared to him, and told him that what they had begun they could not perform. But if he would say no more of it, they would give him Money, and so put a Twopence into his Pocket. After which they took him out of his Bed and laid him on the ground and vanished, and the Boy was found by those that came next into the Room lying on the Floor as if he had been dead." This twopence had odd properties. When put upon the fire and made hot, the boy fell ill; when taken out and cooled, he was all right again. The trick was tried in the presence of many, and was found to answer admirably. Between the 8th of December and the 17th of February, he practised another variation of the same air. "Divers persons at sundry times" heard a croaking, as of a toad, proceed from the boy, and though they held a candle to his face they could not discern any movement of tongue, teeth, or lips. And this croaking as of a toad repeated incessantly, "Jane Brooks, Alice Coward, Jane Brooks, Alice Coward." On the 25th of February he performed his greatest feat of all; or was reported to have done so--which did quite as well in those days; for Richard Isles's wife said she saw him raised up from the ground, mounting gradually higher and higher till he was carried full thirty yards over the garden wall, when, falling at last at one Jordan's door, he was there found as if dead. Coming to himself, he declared that Jane Brooks had taken him by the arm, and carried him up, as Isles's wife had seen; which fact was told and believed in as a fearful instance of her malicious and wicked sorcery against the sprightly youth. At another time, as many as nine people at once saw him hanging from a beam, his hands placed flat against the wood, and his whole body raised two or three feet from the ground. He continued to play these extraordinary tricks from the 15th of November to the 10th of March; when, being much wasted and worn, it was deemed advisable to save his life if yet there might be time. Jane Brooks was sent to gaol, condemned, and hanged at Charde assizes, March 26th, 1658; and Richard Jones, having no longer any inducement to act the possessed, consented to remain with his feet on the ground and his head in the air, according to the laws of nature and Newton, and took no more fits, real or simulated, to extort compassion or obtain revenge. THE WITCHES OF THE RESTORATION. The poor witches were always seeing troublous times. At about the time of the Lord Protector's death one was hanged in Norwich and several in Cornwall. In 1659 two suffered at Lancaster, for crimes which I cannot discover; while in 1660, on the 14th of May, the Restoration had its victims in the persons of a widow, her two daughters, and a man, who were carried to Worcester gaol on the double charge of witchcraft and high treason. For the eldest daughter had been heard to say that if they had not been taken the king would never have come to England: which was enough to frighten all the court into fits. And when they were taken, and tried, and condemned, she said further that "though he now doth come, yet he shall not live long but shall die as ill a death as they" adding that had they not been taken "they would have made corn like pepper:" that is, they would have blighted it. As there were many other charges against them, they were swum: when they floated like ducks--or witches; and then they were searched: when the man was found to have five "bigges," two of the women three, but the eldest daughter only one. When first searched, none of these marks were visible on any of the women, whereat the inquisitors were advised to put them flat on their backs and keep their mouths open, until they should appear; which advice was taken, with the happiest and most palpable results. THE WITCH-FINDER FOUND Sometimes knavery defeated itself, though unhappily not often, as in the case of the famous witch-finder Mother Baker[144] and the young maid Stuppeny, of New Romsey in Kent. The young maid Stuppeny was sick, and as sickness in those days never meant the natural consequence of filthy habits, filthy food, and filthy habitations, but was by the supernatural devilry of witches and wizards, the parents concluded that their young maid must be bewitched, so set off to old Mother Baker to learn who was the guilty person. Old Mother Baker asked whom they suspected? and they mentioned a near neighbour of theirs--particulars not given. "Yes," says the hag, "it is she, and she has made a heart of wax, which she daily pricks with pins and knitting-needles, and which is now concealed in the house, for the destruction of the young maid your daughter." So the parents Stuppeny searched their house, but found no heart of wax; whereupon old Mother Baker, with big pockets to her sides, said she herself must search. And she did search, and turned out the charm from the very spot where she said it was. But certain prying neighbours, whose eyes were sharp and wits clear, had watched old Baker and her pockets; and as she laid the image in a corner that had been most diligently searched and looked into, her cheat was discovered, and the anonymous wretch living next door escaped, while Mother Baker suffered the penalties awarded in Scot's time to cozenage and deceit with intent to defraud or do ill. DOLL BILBY AND HER COMPEER.[145] Burton Agnes, in the county of York, was troubled; for Faith Corbet, the young daughter of Henry Corbet, was taken violently ill, and Alice Huson and Doll Bilby had bewitched her. Good Mrs. Corbet--beyond her age in generous unbelief--refused to entertain her daughter's suspicions; indeed she had chidden her some years ago for calling old Alice a witch, for she had a liking to the poor widow, and kept her about the house, looking after her young turkeys, &c., and was kind and liberal to her, and sought to make her wasting life pass as easily as might be. But Miss Faith hated the old woman, and cried out against her as a witch; and when she lost her gloves, swore that Alice had taken them to play cantrips with, and that she should never be well again. Then she began to fall into fits, when she would be so terribly tormented that it took two or three to hold her; and she would screech and cry out vehemently, and bite and scratch anything she could lay hold of, all the while exclaiming, "Ah, Alice, old witch, have I gotten thee!" And sometimes she would lie down, all drawn together in a round, and be speechless and half swooning for days together; and then she would be wildly merry, and as full of antics as a monkey. Physicians were consulted, but none came near to her disorder; and though her father carried her about hither and thither, for change of air, nothing would cure her, she said, so long as Alice Huson and Doll Bilby remained at liberty. Still the father and mother held out, until, one day, before a whole concourse of people come to look at her in her fits, she cried out, "Oh Faithless and incredulous People! shall I never be believed till it be past Time? For I am as near Death as possibly may be, and when they have got my Life you will repent when it is past Time." On hearing this the father went to the minister of Burton Agnes, Mr. Wellfet, and he, Sir Fr. Boynton--a justice of the peace--and Mr. Corbet himself at last dragged the old woman Huson into Faith's chamber. At which Miss Faith gave a great screech, but presently called for toast and beer; then for cordials; and having taken a somewhat large quantity of both, she got up, dressed herself, and came down stairs. This, too, after she had been so weak that she could not turn herself in bed: which proved that Mother Huson had some extraordinary influence over the girl--an influence more potent than holy said the bystanders. This happy state did not continue. Faith said she should never be well while the two women were at liberty; and so it proved; for when they were at last arrested, and held in strict security and durance, the young lady pronounced herself healed, and gave no one any more trouble. Then Alice Huson was got to make confession to Mr. Wellfet, the minister, and thus sealed her own doom, and saved the prosecution the pain of conviction. She said that for three years she had had intercourse with the devil, who, one day as she was on the moor, appeared to her in the form of a black man riding on horseback. He told her she should never want if she would follow his ways and give herself up to him: which Alice promised to do. Then he sealed the bargain by giving her five shillings; at another time he gave her seven; and often--indeed six or seven times--repeating his gifts to the like munificent extent. He was like a black man with cloven feet, riding on a black horse, and Alice fell down and worshipped him, as she had covenanted. And she had hurt Faith Corbet by her evil spirit, for she did, in her apprehension, ride her; and when Mr. Wellfet examined her once before, the devil stood by, and gave her answers; and she was under the Corbets' window as a cat when Mrs. Corbet said she was--for even her kindly faith was shaken at last; and Doll Bilby had a hand in all this evil too; for Doll wanted to kill Faith outright, but old Alice interposed, thinking they had done enough harm already. She confessed to killing Dick Warmers "by my wicked heart and wicked eyes;" and to having lent Lancelot Harrison eight shillings of the ten which the devil had given her at Baxter's door, a fortnight ago, "about twilight or daygate;" and she had a bigge, or witch mark, where the devil sucked from supper-time till after cockcrowing, twitching at her heart as if it was drawn with pincers the while; and she meant to practise witchcraft four years ago, when she begged old clothes of Mrs. Corbet, and the children refused her; and the devil told her not to tell of Doll Bilby. And to all this raving Timothy Wellfet, minister of Burton Agnes, set his name, and so hanged Alice Huson and Doll Bilby at the next York assizes: after which Miss Faith Corbet was for ever rid of her fits and fancies. THE ASTRAL SPIRIT'S ASSAULT. Can we wonder at anything which it might please those servants of the devil, the witches, to do, when even a spirit--a disembodied ghost--a mere appearance--a spectre--an apparition--could audibly box a lad's ears before a whole room full of spectators, and at last box them so soundly as to break his neck, and kill him? Baxter's "World of Spirits" gives this story as happening to a barber's apprentice in Cambridge, in the year 1662. The spectre who killed the boy was in the garb and appearance of a gentlewoman; and at about the same hour, as near as they could guess, when it boxed the boy's ears and broke his neck at Cambridge, while the father was sitting at dinner with the boy's master at Ely, "the appearance of a Gentlewoman comes in, looking very angrily, taking a Turn or two, disappeared." It seems that the spectre had that night been endeavouring to persuade the boy to leave his apprenticeship and return home to Ely, where she and he were very free and had long been wont to disport together, even while company was in the room, and while the father, a minister named Franklin, was sitting there. After some treaty the boy resolutely said he would not go home, whereupon the spirit gave him a sounding box on the ear, which made him very ill; but he rose as usual when the morning came, though unfit for work or even play. When the master heard the story, he rode over to Ely to see Mr. Franklin, and confer with him respecting the uncomfortable and inconvenient desires of the spirit; and in the forenoon of the day, the boy sitting by the kitchen fire, his mistress being by, suddenly cried out, "O, mistress, look: there's the gentlewoman!" The mistress looked, but saw nothing, yet soon after heard a noise as of a great box on the ears, and turning round saw the boy bending down his neck: and presently he died. This is the story gravely told by Baxter, in the fullest faith that all was as he narrated, and that there was no natural explanation possible to a circumstance which derived its only importance from its supernaturalism. Another spirit, a few years later--in 1667--took to haunting a man's house at Kinton, six miles from Worcester; and boxed his ears as he sat by the fire over against the maid. At which the man cried out, and went away to his son's in the town, not caring to continue where a ghost could make itself equal to a living body with bones and muscles, and give him undeniable proofs of the same. A minister of the place, Charles Hatt, went to the house to exorcise the ghost by prayer, and had not been there long before "there was a great noise in the said room, of groaning, or rather gruntling, like a Hog, and then a lowd Shriek." Mr. Charles Hatt prayed on; and after the spectre had done its best to frighten him with noises, but finding that the louder it gruntled the louder he prayed, it died away, and the man was troubled no more to the day of his death, which happened about two years after. If this was a book on spirits instead of on witchcraft many stories from Baxter could be given bearing on the question; but, fascinating as they are, they are somewhat foreign to my design; so I must pass them by, and go on to the more material, and more guilty, records of the witchcraft superstition. All the mere spectre or ghost stories are both tame and innocent compared to the witch delusions. At least they caused no bloodshed; and if they broke hearts it was not through shame and despair and ruin. JULIAN'S TOADS.[146] At the Taunton assizes, in 1663, Julian Cox, about seventy years old, was indicted before Judge Archer for practising her arts of witchcraft upon a "young Maid, whereby her Body languished, and was impaired of Health." And first were taken proofs of her witchcraft. One witness, a huntsman, swore that one day, as he was hunting not far from Julian's house, he started a hare, which the dogs ran very close till it came to a bush; when, going round to the other side to keep it from the dogs, he perceived Julian Cox grovelling on the ground, panting and out of breath. She was the hare, and had had just time enough to say the magic stave which changed her back to woman's form again, ere the dogs had caught her. Another man swore that one day, passing her house as "she was taking a Pipe of Tobacco upon the Threshold of the Door," she invited him to come in and join her; which he did; when presently she cried out, "Neighbour, look what a pretty thing there is!" and there was "a monstrous great Toad betwixt his Legs, staring him in the Face." He tried to hit it, but could not, whereupon Julian told him to desist striking it and it would do him no hurt; but he was frightened, and went off to his family, telling them that he had seen one of Julian Cox her devils. Yet even when he was at home this same toad appeared again betwixt his legs, and though he took it out, and cut it in several pieces, still, when he returned to his pipe, there was the toad. He tried to burn it, but could not; then to beat it with a switch, but the toad ran about the room to escape him; presently it gave a cry and vanished, and he was never after troubled with it. A third witness swore that one day, when milking, Julian Cox passed by the yard where he was, and "stooping down scored upon the ground for some small time, during which time his Cattle ran Mad, and some of them ran their Heads against the Trees, and most of them died speedily." Concluding by which signs that they were bewitched, he cut off their ears to burn them, and, while they were on the fire, Julian Cox came in a great heat and rage, crying out that they abused her without cause; but, going slily up to the fire, she took off the ears, and then was quiet. By the laws of witchcraft it was she who was burning, not the beasts' ears. A fourth, as veracious as the former, swore to having seen her "fly into her own Chamber-window in her full proportion;" all of which testimony gave weight and substance to the maid's charge. The maid was servant at a certain house, where Julian came one day to ask for alms; but the maid gave her a cross answer, and said she should have none; so Julian told the maid she should repent her incivility before night. And she did; for she was taken with convulsions, and cried out to the people of the house to save her from Julian, for she saw her following her. In the night she became worse, saying that she saw Julian Cox and the black man by her bedside, and that they tempted her to drink, but "she defy'd the Devil's Drenches." The next night, expecting the same kind of conflict, she took up a knife and laid it at the head of her bed. In the middle of the night came the spiritual Julian and the black man, as before, so the maid took the knife, and stabbed at Julian, whom she said she had wounded in the leg. The people, riding out to see, found Julian in her own house with a fresh wound on her leg, and blood was also on the maid's bed. The next day Julian appeared to the maid and forced her to eat pins. Her apparition was on the house wall; and "all the Day the Maid was observ'd to convey her Hand to the House wall, and from the Wall to her Mouth, and she seem'd by the motion of her Mouth as if she did eat something." So towards night, still crying out on Julian, she was undressed, and all over her body were seen great swellings and bunches in which were huge pins--as many as thirty or more--which she said Julian Cox, when in the house wall, had forced her to eat. Was not all this enough to hang a dozen Julian Coxes? Judge Archer thought so; especially when was added to this testimony Julian's own enforced confession, of how she had been often tempted by the devil to become a witch, but would never consent; yet how one evening, walking about a mile from her house, she met three persons riding on broom-staves, borne up about a yard and a half from the ground, two of whom she knew--a witch and a wizard, hanged for witchcraft several years ago--but the third, a black man, she did not then know. He however tempted her to give up her soul, which she did by pricking her finger and signing her name with her blood. So that, by her own showing, as well as by the unimpeachable testimony of reputable witnesses, she was a witch and one coming under the provisions of the Awful Verse. And further, as she could not repeat the Lord's Prayer, but stumbled over the clause "And lead us not into Temptation," which she made into "And lead us into temptation," or "And lead us not into no temptation," but could in no manner repeat correctly, the judge and jury had but one conclusion to come to, which was that she be hanged four days after her trial. But some of the less blind and besotted spoke harsh words of Judge Archer for his zeal and precipitancy, and openly declared poor Julian's innocence when advocacy could do her strangled corpse no good. THE YOUGHAL WITCH. About this time, too, or rather two years before old Julian Cox had been seen flying in at her window in full proportion, one Florence Newton, of Youghal, was overhauled for her misdeeds towards Mary Longdon. Mary was John Pyne's servant, and deposed that one day Florence came to where she lived and asked her for a bit of beef out of the powdering tub, to which Mary would not consent (these witnessing servants were always so moral and honest!), saying she had no right to give away her master's beef. The witch, being angry, muttered, "Thou had'st as good have given it me," and went away grumbling. A few days after, meeting with Mary going to the water with a pail of cloth on her head, she came full against her, and violently kissed her, and said, "Mary, I pray thee let thee and I be friends, for I bear thee no ill will, and I pray thee do thou bear me none." Mary does not give her reply, but says that she went home, and in a few days after "saw a Woman with a Vail over her Face stand by her bedside, and one standing by her like a little old Man in silk Cloaths, and that this Man, whom she took to be a Spirit, drew the Vail from off the Woman's Face, and then she knew it to be Goody Newton; and that the Spirit spake to the Deponent, and would have had her promise him to follow his Advice, and she should have all things after her own Heart; to which she says she answered 'That she would have nothing to say to him, for her Trust was in the Lord.'" After this Mary Longdon was taken very ill, vomiting pins and needles and horse-nails and stubbs and wool and straw, while small stones followed her about the room, and from place to place, striking her sharply on her head and shoulders and arms, then vanishing away. She was also strangely put upon by beds, and other such assailants. Sometimes she was forcibly carried from one bed to another; sometimes taken to the top of the house, or laid on a board betwixt two sollar beams, or put into a chest, or laid under a parcel of wool, or betwixt two feather beds, or (in the day time) between the bed and the mat in her master's room. All of these pranks done by Florence Newton's Astral Spirit, by which Mary maid was bewitched. Florence Newton also bewitched to his death David Jones, who had constituted himself one of her watchers while she was in "bolts" in prison. David took great pains to teach her the Lord's Prayer, but Florence, being a witch, could not repeat it correctly; at last she called out to him, "David! David! come hither; I can say the Lord's Prayer now." Not that she could, for when she came to the clause "Forgive us our Trespasses," she skipped over it, or boggled at it, or got round it in some way or other that was not holy; then seizing David's hand between the bars of the grate she kissed it thankfully; and thus and there possessed him, so that he died fourteen days after of that strange languishing disease known to all the world as a bewitchment. THE WITCHES OF STYLES'S KNOT.[147] Elizabeth Hill, aged thirteen, had strange fits. She was much convulsed and contorted; she writhed, foamed, and could with difficulty be held or mastered; she had moreover swellings and holes in her flesh, which were made she said by thorns, and whence the bystanders averred they saw the child hook out thorns. Even the clergyman of the parish, William Parsons rector of Stoke Trister, added his testimony to the rest: and on the 26th of January, 1664, in an examination taken before Robert Hunt, vouched for the truth of the fits, and the swellings, and the black thorns in the midst of the swellings; but he did not add to this testimony the further assertion that it was Elizabeth Styles who had bewitched the child, though she herself "cried out" on her, and said that she tormented her in her fits. Elizabeth Styles was further accused of causing Richard Hill's horse to sit down and paw with his fore feet when attempted to be crossed, and of having bewitched Agnes Vining by means of a rosy-cheeked apple, which was no sooner eaten than it caused a grievous pricking in Agnes' thigh, who forthwith languished and died, "her hip rotted, and one of her eyes swelled out." These are signs of a worse bewitchment than poor old Mother Styles's rosy-cheeked apple--signs of the deadly sorcery of scrofula induced by the poverty, dirt, bad food and worse lodging of the times; for the effects of which many a poor wretch lost her life who yet had done no more harm than the nursling at the breast. Robert Hunt the Justice, and one of our fine old English gentlemen, did not take this materialistic view of the matter. When told of Agnes Vining's illness and manner of disease, and seeing Elizabeth Styles looking appalled and concerned, he said to her: "You have been an old sinner, you deserve little mercy." To which the poor soul answered, humbly, "I have asked God for it." She then said that the devil had seduced her, and so began her confession on the 26th of January--three days after the first accusation by the Hills. She said that about ten years ago the devil appeared to her as a handsome man changing afterwards to the shape of a black dog; "that he promised her money, and that she should live gallantly, and have the Pleasures of the World for twelve years," if only she would sign a certain bond with her blood, give him her soul, obey his laws, and let him suck her blood. To all of which she consented after four solicitations, whereupon he pricked her finger--the mark thereof to be seen at this time--and she, with her own blood signed the paper with an O, when the devil gave her sixpence and vanished with the bond. Since then he appeared to her constantly, under the forms of a man, a cat, a dog, or a "fly like a millar" (a large white moth), as which last he usually sucked her poll about four in the morning; and hurt her terribly in doing so. She also said that when she wanted him to do anything for her, she called him by the name of "Robin," adding, "O Satan give me my purpose!" which he never failed to do. It was he who stuck the thorns into Elizabeth Hill; but then she implicated three other women, Alice Duke, Ann Bishop, and Mary Penny, saying that they too had stuck thorns into an enchanted picture meant for Elizabeth Hill, one night when they had all met the devil on the common, he, as a man in black clothes with a little band, first anointing its forehead with oil, saying, "I baptize thee with this oyl." After which they had a supper of wine, cakes, and roast meat, all brought by the man in black, and they ate and drank and danced and were merry. This they did always, whenever they would destroy any one obnoxious; and so had a merry time of it upon the whole. When they wanted to go to their meetings "they would anoint their wrists and foreheads with an oyl the spirit brings them, which smells raw," after which they were carried off, saying: "Thout, tout, a tout, tout, throughout and about:" on their return changing the stave to "Rentum Tormentum," which was the shibboleth to bring them back. But before they left they used to make obeisance to the man in black, who usually played to their dancing, saying, "A Boy! merry meet, merry part;" on which he vanished, and the conclave was broken up. She then told the "several grave and orthodox divines" who assisted Robert Hunt to take her examination, that Alice Duke's familiar was a cat, and Ann Bishop's a rat. Her own was a millar; concerning which Nicholas Lambert made some strange revelations. He said that as he and two others, hired to watch Elizabeth Styles in prison, were sitting near her as she crouched by the fire--he, Nicholas Lambert, reading in "The Practise of Piety"--about three in the morning they saw a "glistering bright fly," about an inch in length, come from her head and pitch on the chimney: then instantly vanish. In less than a quarter of an hour after, in came two other flies and seemed to strike at his hand, but which dodged him cleverly when he struck at them with his book. At this, Styles's countenance became very black and ghastly, and the fire also changed its colour; so the watchers, conceiving that her familiar was about her, and seeing also her hair shake very strangely, went to examine her poll, when out flew a great millar, which pitched on a table board and then vanished away. Her poll was red like raw beef, but presently regained its natural colour. Upon which Elizabeth confessed that it was her familiar, and that she had felt it tickle her poll. She was condemned, after having inculpated thirteen other persons, but "prevented execution by dying in gaol, a little before the expiring of the term her confederate dæmon had set for her enjoyment of Diabolical Pleasures." Alice Duke, "another witch of Styles's Knot," a widow living in Wincaunton, county of Somerset, was then apprehended and examined. She seems to have given no trouble, but to have come frankly to the point, and to have admitted whatever they liked to demand. She said that, eleven or twelve years ago, Ann Bishop persuaded her to go one night to the churchyard, and "being come thither to go backward round the church, which they did three times." In their first round they met a man in black clothes who accompanied them: in their second a thing like a great black toad, which leaped up against Duke's apron: in the third, "somewhat in the shape of a rat" which vanished away. After which they both went home, but before they went the man in black said something softly to Ann Bishop, yet what it was Alice did not hear. Soon after this she signed herself away in the same manner and for the same purposes as Elizabeth Styles had done; and the devil gave her sixpence as he had given Styles, and vanished away with the fatal paper. She confirmed all that Styles had said concerning the meetings on the common, the enchanted pictures and the greenish oil, the devil, the wine, and cakes, and music; she gave information, though, of many more such pictures which were to doom the unfortunate likenesses to death; and she said farther that Ann Bishop was the devil's favourite, and that she sat next him, and wore "a green Apron, a French Waistcoat, and a red Petticoat." She gave the same phrase that Elizabeth Styles had given, as the magic password which took them to and from the devil's meetings; and she confessed that her familiar came to her each night, about seven o'clock, "in the shape of a little Cat of a dunnish colour, which is as smooth as a Want, and when she is suck'd she is in a kind of Trance." She had hurt several people; specially Thomas Hanway's daughter by giving her a pewter dish for a "good handsel" in the time of her lying in. This pewter dish was of such a malicious and venefical nature that when Thomas Hanway's daughter used it to heat some deer suet and rose water for her breasts, she was put to extreme pain; which pain she had not when she heated the same deer suet and the same rose water in a common spoon. So, suspecting harm in the dish, she put it into the fire, "which then presently vanished, and nothing of it was afterwards to be found." Alice Duke also said that she called the devil "Robin," and demanded of him aid and help in her undertakings. Like Styles and many others, she said that when the devil vanished he left an ill smell behind him; which is explained as, "Those ascititious Particles he held together in his visible vehicle, being loosened at his vanishing, and so offending the Nostrils by their floating and diffusing themselves in the open air." ROBIN AND HIS SERVANTS[148] Somersetshire was sorely afflicted at this time. On the 2nd of March still in the year of grace, 1664, Christian Green, aged about thirty-three, and wife of Robert Green of Brewham, was taken before Robert Hunt, Esq., to be examined and induced to confess. She did confess, without torture as it would appear; at all events without more than the ordinary torture of "pricking" and sleeplessness always applied to witches. She said that about a year and a half ago, she being in great poverty, was induced by one Catherine Green (her husband's sister?) to give her body and soul to the devil on condition that he would give her clothes, victuals, and money, as she might desire. She was to keep his secrets, and suffer him to suck her once in the twenty-four hours; to which at last she consented, the devil giving her fourpence-halfpenny as earnest money wherewith to buy bread in Brewham. Since this time he came to her ever at five o'clock in the morning, much in the likeness of a hedgehog bending, and sucked her left breast: a painful process, though she was generally in a kind of trance at the time. Christian Green gave no new particulars relative to the devil and his works. He was always as a man in black clothes; and he charmed pictures to the undoing of those for whom they were designed; and when he vanished he left an ill smell behind him; and he spake them very low when they arrived; and they did three horses to death by saying simply, "A Murrain on them Horses to death;" and they bewitched unlikely sinners by mere word or look: all of which processes we have read of twenty times before. Nor was there much more to be got out of "the villainous Feats of that rampant hag Margaret Agar," of Brewham, tried also in 1664, whom poor hysterical Christian Green had delated, for she did nothing beyond curse her enemies and those who offended her, whereupon they died "as if stabbed with daggers," or were "consumed and pined away;" some with one disease, some with another; but all dying without reprieve because of her curse. She also, in company with many others, was proved to have met "a little man in black clothes," whom they called "Robin," and to whom they all made obeisance, the little man putting his hand to his head, saying, "How do ye?" speaking low, but big. And they made "pictures" of wax into which the little black man stuck thorns, one in the crown, another in the breast, and a third in the side, which then Margaret would fling down saying, "This is Cornish's figure with a murrain to it," and Elizabeth Cornish would languish and die; or "This is Bess Hill's;" or any other person's whom it was desired to "forespeak" and destroy; who of course were forespoken and destroyed from that hour. Margaret Agar was a "rampant hag" indeed in one sense, being evidently an ill-conditioned old woman, quick at a curse, and passionately eager to avenge herself, but her magical arts appear to have been of the lowest possible order, and pale and lifeless compared with the more highly-coloured doings of others. Anything, however, was sufficient for the worshipful Master Robert Hunt and his fellow justices, and curses did as well as the rest; so poor old Margaret Agar was taken to the tree whereon grew the fatal fruit of death, to meditate there on Christian charity and the wise compassionateness of men, before learning by what steps the weary soul passes from earth to immortality. She was probably no great loss to the community, but her death placed her among the martyrs to superstition, and left her for ever as an object of historic pity. SIR MATTHEW HALE'S JUDGMENT.[149] At Bury St. Edmonds, in the county of Suffolk, a remarkable "Tryal of witches" was held on the tenth day of March, 1664, before Sir Matthew Hale, Lord Chief Baron of the Court of Exchequer. Rose Cullender and Amy Duny, both widows and both of Leystoff, were indicted for bewitching Elizabeth and Ann Durent, Jane Bocking, Susan Chandler, William Durent, and Elizabeth and Deborah Pacy. William Durent, being an infant, was sworn by grace of his mother Dorothy, and she deposed that some little time ago, having occasion to go from home, she desired Amy, who was her neighbour, to look after her child, but expressly forbade her to suckle it in her absence. When asked by the court why she gave this caution to an old woman far past the age of performing such an office, Dorothy answered that Amy had long had the character of a witch who might suckle the devil himself or any of his imps; and that moreover old women were apt to give the breast to a crying child, to please it during its mother's absence; a habit that made the children ill. But it seems that Amy disobeyed her, for when she came home the old woman told her that she had given the breast to her infant, which made Dorothy very cross, and a high quarrel ensued. And that very night her child was taken with "strange fits of swounding," and was held in such a terrible manner that she expected to lose it every moment. Not knowing what to do or where to get it relief, she went to a certain Doctor Jacob, well known through the country for skill in helping children that were bewitched, and this Dr. Jacob advised her to hang up the child's blanket in the chimney corner all the day, and to put the child into it at night, and not be afraid at anything she might see, but to throw it at once into the fire. Dorothy did as she was bid, and when she took the blanket from the chimney-corner, down fell a great toad, "which ran up and down the hearth, and she having a young youth only with her in the House, desired him to catch the Toad and throw it into the Fire; which the youth did accordingly, and held it there with the Tongs; and as soon as it was in the Fire it made a great and horrible noise, and after a space there was a flashing in the Fire like Gunpowder, making a noise like the discharge of a Pistol, and thereupon the Toad was no more seen nor heard." But Amy Duny sat by her fireside all smirched and scorched, and in revenge bewitched the little daughter Elizabeth to death, and further afflicted Dorothy herself with a lameness in both her legs, so that she was forced to go upon crutches. About which the strangest thing was, that though she had gone on them for three years now, no sooner was Amy Duny condemned than she cast them away and went home without them, "to the great admiration of all persons." This was the first count completed. The second was made by Samuel Pacy, "a Merchant of Leystoff aforesaid (a Man who carried himself with so much soberness during the Tryal, from whom proceeded no words either of Passion or Malice, though his Children were so greatly Afflicted)," on behalf of his daughters, Elizabeth and Deborah; the one aged about eleven, the other nine. Elizabeth had fits. She remained as one wholly senseless or in a deep sleep, the only sign of life being that, as she lay on cushions in the court, her stomach was raised to a great height on the drawing of her breath. After she had remained there for some time she came somewhat to herself, and then "laid her Head on the Bar of the Court with a Cushion under it, and her hand and her Apron upon that;" when Amy Duny was brought privately to touch her. She had no sooner done so than the child, although not seeing her, suddenly leaped up and caught her by the hand and face, and scratched her till the blood came: after which she was easier. Samuel deposed that his younger daughter, Deborah, was suddenly taken with a lameness in her legs, which continued from the 10th to the 17th of October; when the day, being fair and sunshiny, she desired to be carried to the east part of the house, and then set upon a bank which looks towards the sea. While sitting there, came Amy Duny to buy some herrings; but being denied she went away grumbling, and on the instant "the Child was taken with the most violent Fits, feeling most extream Pain in her Stomach, like the pricking of Pins, and shreeking out in a most dreadful manner, like unto a Whelp, and not like unto a sensible Creature." The doctor, not understanding this disorder, and Amy Duny being under ill fame for a witch, Samuel Pacy caused her to be set in the stocks, as the most powerful remedy he knew of for his child's disorder. Being in the stocks, a neighbour told her that she was suspected of being the cause of Mr. Pacy's trouble: whereupon Amy answered, "Mr. Pacy keeps a great stir about his Child; let him stay until he has done as much by his Children as I have by mine." And being further examined what she had done to her children, she answered, "That she had been fain to open her Child's Mouth with a Tap to give it victuals." When, therefore, Elizabeth, the elder girl, fell ill within two days after this, and could by no means be made to open her mouth without a good-sized tap being put into it, the thing was certain, and might no longer be gainsayed. And when they both vomited crooked pins, and as many as forty broad-headed nails, and were deprived of sight and hearing, and cried out perpetually against Amy Duny and Rose Cullender, and could not be got to say the names "Jesus," "Lord," or "Christ," but when they came to "Satan" or "Devil," would clap their fingers on the book (the New Testament), crying out, "This bites, but makes me speak right well," what sane person could doubt the truth? Other strange things beside happened to them. They used to see creatures of the appearance of mice run up and down the house, and one of them "suddainly snapt one with the Tongs, and threw it into the Fire, and it screeched out like a Rat." At another time a thing like a bee flew into Deborah's face, and would have got into her mouth, had she not gone shrieking into the house; when, with much apparent pain and effort, she brought up a twopenny nail with a broad head, which she said the bee had forced into her mouth. Again, another time, Elizabeth cried out that she saw a mouse under the table, which she caught up in her apron and flung into the fire. Deponent, her aunt, confessed that she saw nothing in the child's hand, nevertheless the fire flashed as if gunpowder had been flung in; also "at another time, the said Child being speechless, but otherwise of perfect understanding, ran round about the House, holding her Apron, crying 'Hush, hush,' as if there had been Poultry in the House; but this Deponent could perceive nothing; but at last she saw the Child stoop as if she had catch't at something, and put it into her Apron, and afterwards made as if she had thrown it into the Fire; but this Deponent could not discover any thing; but the Child afterwards being restored to her speech, she, this Deponent, demanded of her what she saw at the time she used such a posture? who answered, That she saw a Duck." Others deposed to the same kind of things: as Edmund Durent, father to the girl Ann, whom Rose Cullender had bewitched--also because denied the right of buying herrings; and Diana Bocking, mother to Jane likewise afflicted with crooked pins and tenpenny nails; and Mary Chandler, mother of Susan, who was stricken blind and dumb, and had the plague of pins upon her too, and who cried out "in a miserable manner, 'Burn her, burn her,'" which were all the words she could speak, and which meant that poor old Rose was to be burnt that Susan Chandler might be dispossessed. And there was Dr. Brown, of Norwich, a person of great knowledge, who gave it as his deliberate opinion that the girls were bewitched, every one of them, and that "the Devil in such cases did work upon the Bodies of Men and Women upon a Natural Foundation, (that is) to stir up and excite such Humours superabounding in their Bodies to a great Excess, whereby he did in an Extraordinary Manner Afflict them with such Distempers as their Bodies were most subject to, as particularly appeared in these Children; for he considered that these swooning Fits were Natural, and nothing else but that they call the Mother, but only heightened to a great excess by the subtilty of the Devil co-operating with the Malice of these which we term Witches, at whose instance he doth these Villanies." Such an argument as this was then held quite as pertinent and irresistible as would now be the evidence of the microscope and the test of chemical experiment. It is refreshing, in the midst of all this wild nonsense, to find that some gentlemen--Lord Cornwallis, Sir Edmund Bacon, and Mr. Serjeant Keeling, who had been directed by the Lord Chief Justice to make an experiment with these girls--openly protested against the whole thing, affirming it to be an imposture from first to last; and that when the children covered up their heads in their aprons, and shrieked and writhed when Rose Cullender or Amy Duny touched them, they did it in full possession of their senses, and perfectly understanding what they were about. For when they tried them with other women whom they made believe were the two, cried out on, and took care that their eyes were held, so that they should not see, the children shrieked and howled, and went off into their fits all the same; which double experiment satisfied the gentlemen of the fraudulent character of it all. But this little nucleus of rationality was not strong enough to disperse the thick darkness gathered round the minds of all present--gathered round the mind of even Sir Thomas Brown and the "good" Sir Matthew Hale; and when one witness had deposed that his cart had stuck fast between some posts, and that the haymakers could not unload the hay until the next morning, because Rose Cullender had threatened him; and another that his pigs and cattle died in a most extraordinary manner, and he himself swarmed with vermin which he could not get rid of, because he also had been threatened by her; and a third that she had lost her geese because Amy Duny had said she should; and that a chimney had fallen down because Amy Duny had said it would--when all these things had been sworn to and proved, then the minds of the judge and jury admitted of no further doubt. Amy Duny and Rose Cullender were brought in guilty, and hanged at Cambridge on Monday, March 17, confessing nothing. "The next morning the children came with their Parents to the Lodgings of the Lord Chief Justice, and were in as good Health as ever they were in their lives, being restored within half an hour after the witches were convicted." A fact then sufficiently conclusive, but which now is the strongest proof that could be offered of the wicked deception of the whole matter. THE WAITING-MAID AND THE PIN.[150] In 1665 Elizabeth Brooker, servant to Mrs. Hieron, of Honiton, in Devonshire, waiting at table one Lord's day, suddenly felt a pricking as of a pin in her thigh, and, on looking, found indeed a pin there, but inside her skin, drawing no blood nor breaking the skin, and thrust in so far that she could scarce feel the head of it with her finger. By Tuesday it had worked so far inwards that she could no longer feel it at all; and the day after she went to Mr. Anthony Smith, a surgeon of great repute, who was obliged to have recourse to incisions and cataplasms, and all the appliances of the surgery, in order to extract this obstinate and malevolent pin. For it was a bewitched pin; and either Agnes Richardson, who had been angry with Elizabeth "about miscarriage in an errand that she sent her on," or an unknown woman who had lately been near her, was suspected of the crime of sticking it into her. Mrs. Hieron was a widow, and kept a draper's shop in Honiton, and Elizabeth Brooker, her servant, sold small wares in a stall before her mistress's door. On market day, which was Saturday, came a certain woman and asked Elizabeth for a pin. She took one from her sleeve readily enough; but the woman was dissatisfied, and demanded one of a bigger sort hung up in a paper to sell. The maid said they were not hers to give; they were her mistress's: if she would ask her mistress for one, and get her leave to have it, she, Elizabeth, would then give her one willingly. This woman went away in a great fume, saying "she should hear farther from her, and that she would wish e'er long she had given the pin as desired." The next day a pin was thrust into her thigh as she was waiting at table, and no Christian person could doubt whence it came or why it was sent. Mr. Anthony Smith, the "Chirurgeon of great Reputation," who could not extract a pin without a fortnight's illness supervening, wrote a detailed account of the whole matter; but whether the unknown woman was traced and found, or whether Agnes Richardson got any mishandling for the suspicion cast on her, or whether, again, the trick passed off without result, and no one was the worse because a maid-servant chose to run a pin into her thigh, I can find no record to inform me. As not much harm was done, perhaps the devil was let off easy this time, and the hags, his mistresses, suffered to extend their trade a little longer. JANE STRETTON AND THE CUNNING WOMAN.[151] Jane Stretton and her parents lived at Ware in the year 1669, Jane being then a young maid of about twenty, generally out at service. It chanced that Thomas, her father, lost a Bible, and must needs go to a cunning man to ask where it was, and who had it--a thing which, as a good Christian, he should have been ashamed of: to which the cunning man replied darkly, "he could tell him if he would." Whereupon Stretton, not in the least grateful for such a doubtful reply, broke out with, "Then thou must be either a witch or a devil, seeing thou canst neither read nor write." This was all that passed, and it seems but scant substance for a deadly quarrel; but a few days afterwards this cunning man's wife went slily to Stretton's, and asked daughter Jane for a pot of drink. This was to establish direct communication. "Innocency dreads no danger: the child will play with the Bee for his gaudy Coat, and mistrusts not his sting," says this flowery tract; but soon after Jane had thus committed herself to transfers and communication with the witch, the "devil, who is a sly thief, and though he keeps his servants poor, yet indues them, with a plentifull stock of malice, revenge, and dissimulation," suffered this bad woman, or this cunning man, to afflict Jane, but not so grievously as they were suffered to do hereafter. In about a week's time the cunning man's wife went and desired a pin of her, which Jane, granting, became suddenly beset with fits, most terrible to behold. "But her misery ends not here: the squib is not run out to the end of the rope. When the Devil has an inch given to him he will take an ell;" so poor Jane was not only troubled with fits, but must needs have her mouth stopped so that she ate nothing for weeks and months, and was forced to live like a chameleon, on air. Besides this, she was made to perpetually vomit flax and hair and thread-ends and crooked pins; while blue, white, and red flames came in the intervals out of her mouth, and her body was continually slashed and cut with a knife, and imps in the shape of frogs, and toads, and mice, and the like, for ever haunted her; and the wise man's wife was the cause of all. Then the neighbours took some of the foam which Jane had always hanging round her mouth, and burnt it for a counter charm, and to hurt the besetting witch; and chancing to light on the woman, they told her they would take her to the maid to be scratched. To which she made answer, "That if they had not come she could not have stayed any longer from her:" so great was the potency of the burnt foam. For nine months did this girl befool her world, and then--the cunning man and his wife being probably put to death--she managed to get well of all her ailments, and to find meat and milk more sustaining diet than crooked pins, hair, or wool; though, indeed, the meat and milk had never been wanting in the dark hours undiscovered, for Jane had taken care to live as usual when the night had blinded prying eyes, and there was no one to count off the tale of slices cut and devoured. Fortunately for the sanity of society, every one did not believe these monstrous stories. Webster's book, published about this time, was one of those brave few which openly discredited the truth of the witch stories afloat in the world, and made as great a sensation, or even greater, than the grand old work of Reginald Scot. Like him, Webster doubted the truth of the witch of Endor's enchantments, which the upholders of the faith rested on as the very keystone of their position. The witch herself he calls "a cozening quean," "a crafty subtile quean," "an idolatrous, wicked, and couzening witch:" for they understood the value of forcible language in those days: Saul is "a drowned puppet"--to Glanvil's intense wrath at this rude mishandling of a "noble prince;" Samuel but "a confederate knave," or "but a lying phantasie;" in the conjurations the witch, "casting herself into a feigned Trance, lay grovelling upon the Earth with her face downwards, and so changing her voice did mutter, and murmur, and peep, and chirp, like a bird coming forth of the shell;" with other knockdown assertions of common sense not afraid, by which the curate of Kildwick demolished the whole argument of supernaturalism, and left the poor witch of Endor and Saul himself not an inch of ground to stand on. So with all the other stories that came into his hands; so with the special points of faith, peculiar to the creed of witchcraft, such as communion and covenant with the devil, transportation through the air on sticks, straws, or bedstaves; transformation into the shapes of cat, dog, wolf, raven, &c.; intercourse with imps and familiars; witches' sabbaths; charms; conjurations; weeping the prescribed three tears with the left eye only, or not weeping at all; swimming on the surface of the water, because of the Christian character of that element, which refused to admit a devil-devoted soul within its bosom; apparitions, or spectres of witches troubling the afflicted--souls quitting their bodies, but taking with them the spiritual substance even of woven garments; with the whole course of lies and delusions belonging to the subject, from the devil's baptism to the imps' bigges. All this seemed but so much delusion to plain John Webster, with his unidealising common sense and kindly heart; yet a delusion so fraught with sin and danger as to make it a Christian man's first duty to combat and destroy it. Wherefore was he most barbarously and evilly entreated by Glanvil in his "Saducismus Triumphatus"--the answer to the "Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft"--and a mighty pretty quarrel, full of the choicest amenities, was the result. But as Glanvil had error and credulity, and Webster reason and right judgment on his side, it mattered little who was assumed to have the best of it for the moment. Time and education gradually settled the question, and buried it for a time out of sight; yet it has sprung up anew of late, and now needs settling again. THE BIDEFORD TROUBLES.[152] In the July of 1682, Temperance Lloyd, of Bideford, or "Bytheford," was accused of bewitching Mrs. Grace Thomas. Temperance, being a little crazy, had cried one day on meeting Mrs. Grace, who had been for long months but a poor, "dunt," feckless body; and when asked why she wept had made answer, "For joy to see her who had been so ill, walk abroad again without disaster." But that very same night Mrs. Grace was taken with fresh pains, "sticking and pricking Pains, as if Pins and Awls had been thrust into her Body, from the Crown of her Head to the Soles of her Feet, and she lay as if she had been upon a rack;" and none but Temperance Lloyd the cause thereof, despite all her hypocritical tears. And did not Elizabeth Eastcheap see her knee, which looked as if it had been pricked in nine places with a thorn? And when Temperance was asked if she had any clay or wax wherewith to torment Mrs. Grace, did she not confess to a bit of leather which she had pricked nine times, and which was as full of venom and sorcery as any wax or clay in the world? Besides, it came out afterwards, that she had gone to Thomas Eastcheap's shop in the form of a gray or "braget cat," and thence taken out a "puppit or picture, commonly called a child's baby," which she stuck full of pins, whereby to prick Grace to death. When asked in what part of the house the said puppet or picture was hidden, she refused to tell, saying the devil would tear her in pieces if she confessed. Anne Wakely, too, the neighbour who went to nurse poor Grace, had her word to say; for one morning--it was on a bonny day in June--she saw "something in the shape of a magpye come at the chamber window;" and when Temperance was questioned as to what she knew of this fluttering thing, she made answer that it was the Black Man in the shape of a bird which she had sent to trouble poor rheumatic pain-racked Grace. For Temperance was not stiff. She was easily brought to confess how she had given herself over to the service of a black man, who made her do all manner of hurt to her neighbours--made her pinch Grace Thomas, and bewitch William Herbert to his death twelve years ago, and destroy Anne Fellows three years since--for both of which crimes she had been arraigned and questioned at the time, but had managed to get clear. Now, however, she confessed that she had been guilty of them. The dread and evil fame and poverty under which she had lived so long had done their appointed work on her poor old brain; and she was ready to confess to anything which it was desired she should allow. Yes, she had bewitched the eyes of Jane Dalbin, but so secretly that no one had suspected her: and she had destroyed one woman by kissing her, holding her so tight that she squeezed her to death--the blood gushing out of her mouth and nose: and she hunted with the devil, he going before her in the shape of a hound; "doubtless he hunted for souls," says a very odd tract which gives this additional trait of diabolical management and the economy of time. Being asked of what stature was her black man, she said "he was above the Length of her Arm; and that his Eyes were very big; and that he hopped, or leaped in the way before her;" but when asked if she had made any contract with him she said "No; neither had she gone through the keyhole when she went to harm Grace Thomas, but through the door, the devil leading her, and both invisible; and that she had been made to pinch and torment Grace; and that the devil beat her about the head grievously because she would not kill her." She had never bewitched any ships or boats, nor done a child to death; for the child who stole her apple died of the small-pox, and she was guiltless of its decease; nor had she ever ridden over an arm of the sea on a cow--"No, master, never; it was she," meaning another delated witch, Susanna Edwards, who did this. The worst thing she had ever done was to Grace Thomas, and then the devil made her do it, beating her about the head and back in shape and form, "black like a bullock." Temperance Lloyd was executed; and died penitent and crazy. Mary Trembles was another delated witch. She bewitched Agnes Whitefield with all manner of pains; and Grace Barnes deposed to pricks and pains like awls and pins thrust into her, which evil Mary Trembles and Susanna Edwards had done together; for they were comrades and cronies, and would go hand-in-hand about the world, invisible to all save themselves and their master the devil. It was Susanna Edwards who had seduced Mary and got her to accept the service of the devil, who came to her as a lion; at which she was much frightened, though not hurt; and made her bewitch Grace Barnes, because said Grace would give her no meat. She was also executed, very penitent and quite resigned. Susanna Edwards was active and powerful in forespeaking. She sent pains to Dorcas Coleman--tormenting pains, and very grievous--so that Dr. George Bear could do her no good, but openly proclaimed her beyond his power for that she was bewitched; and she held Anthony Jones pretty hardly, as Joane his wife deposed. For when Susan was apprehended, Anthony "observing her to gripe and twinkle her Hands upon her own Body, said to her, 'Thou Devil, thou art now tormenting some Person or other.'" Upon which the said Susanna was displeased with him, and said, "Well enough I will fit thee." And fit him she did, for on his making one of the rabble that dragged her before the magistrates, Susanna turned round and looked at him, "so that he cried out, 'I am now bewitched with this Devil, wife,' meaning Susanna Edwards, and presently leaped and capered like a madman, and fell a-shaking, quivering, and foaming, and for the space of half an Hour like a dying or dead Man." Susan knew the devil as a gentleman dressed in black clothes, and also as a little boy; but could not be induced to confess to any of the more striking monstrosities beyond what might have well belonged to an ordinary case of hallucination. She was executed as the other two; but we are not told if Grace Thomas, or Dorcas Coleman, or Grace Barnes, or Anthony Jones recovered their health now that the witches were dead, or if hysteria and rheumatism and neuralgia and scrofula were found more troublesome enemies to conquer than three crazy old women. It would be curious as well as interesting to know the condition of the honestly deceived and actually diseased after the death of the possessing witch. In those instances where crutches were thrown away, and fits suddenly brought to a close, the instant the law had laid its gripe on the neck of the unfortunate accused, we have no choice but to refer the whole proceedings to imposture quickened by enmity or the desire of notoriety; but there were cases where a strange and sudden disease did really appear as bewitchment to the afflicted, and of these one would be glad to know the after mental condition when the obsessing witch was killed, yet the obsessing sickness unconquered. Did experience ever open their eyes or shake their faith? or did they die in their belief that the stake and the gallows were the finest remedies known for disordered functions or organic mischief? No one of the time was sufficiently accurate, or sufficiently unprejudiced, to be able to give us reliable information, and thus we have lost a most valuable indication of the absolute power exercised by the mind over the body. SIR JOHN HOLT'S JUDGMENTS.[153] Mr. May Hill, minister of Beckington, in Somersetshire (near Frome), had a servant, one Mary Hill, whom Satan and the malice of his servants had grievously bewitched. Mr. Baxter had brought to him a bag of iron, nails, and brass which the girl had vomited, and he kept some of them to show his friends. "Nails about three or four inches long, doubled, crooked at the end, and pieces of old Brass doubled, about an Inch broad and two Inches long, with crooked edges," all of which Mary had brought up, together with about two hundred crooked pins. Elizabeth Carrier was first committed on the charge of having bewitched her; but a fortnight after, Mary, whom this sacrifice had temporarily appeased, went back to her old ways, and began to vomit nails and pieces of nails, brass, and handles of spoons, and so continued to do for six months and more; all the while crying out against Margery Coombes and Ann More, who, she said, appeared to her and tormented her. These two poor creatures were immediately apprehended and committed to the county gaol; but Margery died as soon as she was imprisoned: and when my Lord Chief Justice Holt came to try old Ann, he said there was not sufficient evidence against her, so directed the jury to acquit her. But the maid was worse than ever after this acquittal, and took to vomiting pieces of glass, and several pieces of bread and butter besmeared with a poisonous matter, adjudged to be white mercury, and a great board nail, and, in short, Mr. May Hill and the neighbours did not know what she might not throw up at last, her mouth was so capacious, and the space against her gums so flexible. But as it was observed that she never vomited these things save in the morning, and that in the afternoon she was quiet; and when, upon inquiry, it was found that she always slept with her mouth wide open, and slept so soundly, that she could not be awakened by pulling, or jogging, or calling; then Mr. Hill commanded that some one should sit up with her, and keep her mouth rigidly and pertinaciously shut. And when they did this she vomited nothing, for the witches had not been able to convey their trash into her mouth. This experiment was satisfactorily tried for thirteen nights; but as soon as she was left to sleep by herself, and with her mouth open, the wicked witches were sure to come to her and force all kinds of trash into it. But at last she wearied of her work; and, Sir John Holt not holding out much inducement to ill-tempered young women to declare themselves possessed because they had a disagreeable neighbour or two, she owned herself quite cured, and no more was heard of her fits or her nails. Poor old Widow Chambers,[154] of Upaston, in Suffolk, "a diligent, industrious, poor woman," was accused of witchcraft, upon what grounds does not appear. "After she had been walk'd betwixt two," and, we may naturally suppose, pressed and plied with questions, she became confused and overwrought, and began to confess a great many things of herself. She said that she had killed both her husband and Lady Blois, though the last had died a fair and evident death, "without any Hurt from that poor Woman:" and then some, to make trial of her wits, asked her if she had not killed such and such persons then living? to which old Widow Chambers maundered out yes, she had killed them sure enough. She was committed to Beccles Gaol, even after this; but died before her trial, happily for her. This was in 1693. The following year was a busy one for the witch-finders, but fortunate for such of the witches as came before Lord Chief Justice Holt, a man of clear, well-balanced mind, evidently not given to superstitious beliefs, or to much veneration for the Black Art. Mother Munnings, of Hartis, in Suffolk, was one of those brought before him at Bury St. Edmunds. She came with a bad character enough, accused of bewitching men to their death, spoiling brewings and churnings, and hurting cattle and corn--of being, in fact, a terrible pest to the whole neighbourhood. She killed Thomas Pannel her landlord, who had offended her by a rather summary method of ejectment, namely, taking her door off the hinges, since he could not get her out of his house any other way. Mother Munnings was angry: who would not have been? "Go thy way," she cried to him passionately; "thy Nose shall lie upward in the Churchyard before Saturday next." This was enough. Thomas Pannel sickened on Monday and died on Tuesday, and was buried within the week according to her word. That this was true was attested by a certain witness, a doctor, who said also that Mother Munnings "was a dangerous woman: she could touch the Line of Life." Mother Munnings had an imp, a thing like a polecat; and a man swore that one night, coming from the alehouse--a rather important circumstance--he saw her lift out of her basket two imps, a black one and a white; and it was well known that Sarah Wager was taken both dumb and lame after a quarrel with her, and was in that condition even at the time of trial. But in the face of all these tremendous accusations the Lord Chief Justice Holt directed the jury to bring her in Not Guilty, and poor old Mother Munnings lived in peace and quietness for about two years longer, doing no harm to anybody, and when dying declaring her innocence. Dr. Hutchinson gives a very rational, but somewhat quaint, explanation of two of the charges against her. On the death of her landlord, he says, that he, Thomas Pannel, "was a consumptive spent Man, and the Words not exactly as they swore them, and the whole Thing 17 years before;" and as to the imps--"the White Imp is believed to have been a Lock of Wool taken out of her Basket to spin; and its Shadow, it is supposed, was the Black one." Not an impossibility with an ignorant country clown, reeling home half drunk from the alehouse, and disposed to make a miracle out of the plainest matter before him seen through a witch's window. At the Ipswich assizes of that same year the Lord Chief Justice had to hold the sword of judgment unsheathed between Margaret Elnore and her accusers. Margaret belonged to a family of witches, her grandmother and her aunt having been both hanged for that rational offence; and now, when Mrs. Rudge had been for three years in a languishing condition--ever since her husband had refused to take Elnore for his tenant--what so likely as that she was bewitched, and that the enraged witch and relative of witches had done it? Besides, women who had quarrelled with Margaret had found themselves suddenly covered with vermin, not at all due to their own uncleanly habits, but to the diabolical power of old Elnore, who would send lice or locusts, disease or death, just as it suited her. For she had eight or nine imps, and she was plainly branded with the witch marks. Lord Chief Justice Holt pooh-poohed the imps and the vermin, and directed again a verdict of Not Guilty. So Margaret Elnore was suffered to live out the natural term of her life, and Mrs. Rudge recovered her health for a certain time; but--some years after Margaret was peaceably laid in her grave--"fell again into the same Kind of Pains (supposed from the Salt Humour), and died of the same Distemper." The next year Mary Guy was tried at Launceston for bewitching Philadelphia Row, who swore to her apparition perpetually troubling her, and who had the uncomfortable habit of vomiting pins, straws, and feathers. But the Lord Chief Justice turned a deaf ear to Philadelphia Row also, and Mary Guy was acquitted. So was Elizabeth Horner, who, in 1696, was brought before him at Exeter, charged with having bewitched three children belonging to William Bovet, whereof one was dead: "another had her Legs twisted, and yet from her Hands and Knees she would spring Five Foot high." The children brought up crooked pins, and were grievously bitten, and pinched, and pricked, and bruised--the marks of all this ill usage appearing plainly on the flesh; and they swore that Bess Horner's head would go off her shoulders and walk quietly into their stomachs: and the mother deposed "that one of them walked up a smooth plastered Wall, till her Feet were nine Foot high, her Head standing off from it." This she did five or six times, laughing and saying that Bess Horner held her up. Old Bess had a kind of wart or excrescence on her shoulder, which William Bovet's children said was her witch-mark, and where her imp--a toad--sucked; but the Lord Chief Justice shook his head, and Bess Horner was let to live on in her own way, taking off her head at will, and sending it into children's bodies, and nourishing a devil in shape of a toad on her shoulder--the law and judgment not interposing. The Lord Chief Justice had very many cases of witchcraft brought before him--about eleven places in all being supposed to be so infected--but he brought in every one "not guilty." One of the most celebrated cases tried by him was that of Richard Hathaway, who came before him at the Guildford Assize of 1701 with a pitiful tale of possession and bewitchment, all owing to Sarah Morduck, of Southwark, in which parish he too was living as apprentice to Thomas Wellyn, blacksmith. Richard had fits and convulsions, in all probability real enough, for he was sent to the hospital, where he lay for seven weeks in a pitiable condition, sometimes bent double, and at all times strangely and fearfully contorted. This began in September, 1690,[155] he said, when the first appearances of being bewitched manifested themselves. For then he vomited crooked pins in great numbers, and lumps of tin, and loose nails, and nut-shells, and stones; and he foamed at the mouth; and bowed himself into an arch; and lay as if dead; and barked like a dog; and burnt as if with fire; and in the midst of all signed that Sarah Morduck had bewitched him, and that he should never be well till he had "scratched" her. So she was brought to him to be scratched; after which he ate and drank and had his sight and was perfectly well for six weeks together. Then he fell ill again, and must needs scratch her for this attack; and this time with more unction, for Sarah "was assaulted in her own House, and grievously abused; her Hair and Face torn; she was kicked, thrown to the Ground, stamped on, and threatened to be put into a Horse Pond, to be tried by Swimming, and very hardly escaped with her Life." To avoid being absolutely murdered, she left Southwark and went into London; but still was not safe, for she was constantly being followed in the streets, and was often in danger of being pulled to pieces by a mob which credited all that Richard Hathaway said and did. In 1701 she was taken before one Sir Thomas Lane, who ordered her to be stript and searched, and let Hathaway loose again on her to scratch her. After which he was well as before; and then Sarah Morduck was committed, and prayers were offered up in the churches for Hathaway, and collections made for him in the congregations, and six or seven pounds at a time got for him, besides various other sums, to bear his charges at the Assizes, and indemnify him for the evil the witch had inflicted. At the Assizes (Guildford, July, 1701) Sarah Morduck was brought out of prison to be tried for her life by the Lord Chief Justice: with the usual result in his trials of witches: she was released, but Hathaway took her place, and was committed to the Marshalsea as a cheat and impostor, lying, for the first part of the time, well and hearty, but afterwards falling into his fits again as if bewitched. He was then experimented with; given another woman to scratch, under the idea that it was Sarah; whom he scratched quite contentedly, and as well after he had done so. When he found out his mistake he was blind and dumb again. But now, it being specially desired to know the truth, when he brought up his crooked pins, his hands were kept carefully out of his pockets, which then were searched, and found plentifully supplied; and all the strange noises which had been heard to issue out of his bed were discovered to have been made by his own feet scratching the bedposts; and his miraculous fasting was proved a cheat, for Mrs. Kensy's maid, who had got into his confidence by a stratagem, brought him meat and drink privately, and Mr. Kensy and his friends peeping through a private hole saw him eat it quite composedly. So one by one his pretences were destroyed, and he was openly convicted of cozening and imposture. The Lord Chief Justice thought this a more cognizable crime than witchcraft, and condemned Richard Hathaway to be imprisoned for a year, and to stand in the pillory thrice during the period. Thus he was made a warning to all hysterical youths and maidens who took to possession as a good trade, and who liked the prayers of the faithful, and the money of the credulous, and the luxury of ill-treating any one specially spited, and the attentions of the gentry, and the pity of the commonalty, and all manner of petting and cossiting better than coarse hard fare and the scanty pleasures wrung from horny-handed labour. This Lord Chief Justice, Sir John Holt, may be taken as one of the greatest, if of the less noisy and notorious, benefactors of England known; setting himself so firmly as he did against this cruel and debasing superstition, and so manfully upholding the claims of humanity and common sense against all the "possibilities" of idealism, and the wild errings of credulity. From his time the witch madness sensibly declined, and folks woke gradually to the possession of their ordinary faculties. THE SURREY DEMONIAC.[156] "What, Satan! is this the Dancing that Richard gave himself to thee for? Can'st thou Dance no better? Ransack the old Records of all past Times and Places in thy Memory: Can'st thou not there find out some better way of Trampling? Pump thine Invention dry: Cannot that universal Seed-plot of subtile Wiles and Stratagems spring up one new Method of Cutting Capers? Is this the top of Skill and Pride, to shuffle Feet, and brandish Knees thus, and to trip like a Doe, and skip like a Squirrel? And wherein differs thy Leapings from the Hoppings of a Frog, or Bouncings of a Goat, or Friskings of a Dog, or Gesticulations of a Monkey? And cannot a Palsy shake such a loose Leg as that? Dost thou not twirl like a Calf that hath the Turn, and twitch up thy Houghs just like a Spring-hault Tit?" This was one of the conversations, or rather exhortations, which the dissenting ministers had with the devil inhabiting Richard Dugdale--he who was called by some the Surrey demoniac,[157] by others the impostor, as faith or reason was the stronger. Richard drew largely upon the faith of his generation, largely even for the credulous generation flourishing in the year of our Lord 1695: for Richard the "possessed" vomited gold, silver, and brass rings, hair buttons, blue stones like flints, and once a big stone bloody at the edges; and he was transformed sometimes to the manner of a horse, when he would gallop round the barn on all fours, quite as quickly as any cob ever foaled, and whinny like a cob, and eat provender like a cob; and sometimes he was like a dog, "harring" and snarling and growling and barking so like a mastiff, that once a dog, a real mastiff and no counterfeit, set upon him, and would have given him rather an undesirable taste of canine fraternity had he not been prevented. Then he would be heavy or light in the same fit--now so heavy that six men could not lift him, now so light that he did not weigh six pounds: "sometimes light as a Feather-Boulster, but before he came out heavier than a Load of Corn," says a husbandman; "as light as a Chip, and as heavy as a horse," says a carpenter: and he had fits of leaping, as fast as a man could count; and he would dance on his toes and his knees, with marvellous agility--dance more quickly than ordinary men, not possessed, could do on their honest feet; then he would lie as if dead; or he would gape and snatch with his mouth, catching at flies; and he had noises in his mouth and breast, as if a family of young whelps were lapping, snarling, or sucking in his inside; and he rolled up his tongue into a lump and turned his eyes inward; and talked gibberish, which some one said was Latin; and played with rushes as if they had been dice and bowls. "And when he had thrown the 'Jack,' he said, 'I must now throw my Gill;' then running a good way, as if he had been running after a bowl, swearing, 'Run, Run, Flee, Flee, Hold a Biass;' and sometimes he catched up rushes, as if they had been bowls, swearing, 'Sirrah, stand out of the Way, or I'll knock out your Brains,' adding, 'I never was a Bowler, But don't Gentlemen do thus?'" which is scarcely evidence to us that he was possessed, or in any abnormal condition whatsoever. Neither was his habit of swearing and cursing, "so that he would have affrighted ordinary men," any very distinct sign of supernaturalism; nor yet his insolence in saying to Mr. Carrington, who had adjured the devil in him mightily, "Thou shalt be Porter of Hell-Gates, Thou'st have Brewis and Toad Broath." Any bold-faced lad of eighteen might have said the same under cover of what he chose to call a fit. And as for the strange swelling, as big as a turkey's egg, which ran like a mouse about his body, whatever in that account was naturally impossible was either trick on his part, or self-deception on the part of those who gave their testimony. Besides, they were all inclined to believe. Why, John Fletcher, who slept one night with Richard, and felt something come up towards his knees, creeping higher and higher till it got to his heart--something about the bigness of a little cat or dog, which when he thought to catch "slipped through his hands like a Snig"--even that most unterrifying occurrence was transformed into a demoniacal visitant, and the thing that slipped through John Fletcher's hands like a snig was no other than Richard Dugdale's devil come to pay him a midnight visit. Then Richard laid stones like hens' eggs, and in the manner of hens; and he flung them to incredible distances when newly laid, and they felt warm as milk; and he showed a slight amount of power in the matter of clairvoyance; but, oh faithless, feeble devil! when Drs. Chew and Crabtree got hold of him, and bled him well, and gave him physic, the devil, who hates blue pill and black draught worse than holy water, flew away, and what all the prayers and fastings and exhortations of the ministry could not do, the lancet and a good dose of calomel and aloes effected without trouble. And then Richard Dugdale confessed that he had never been possessed, but only ill, in consequence of a fight he had had with a man at a rush-bearing at Whalley, while he, Master Richard, was in drink. The next day he was heavy and troubled in his mind, and drank a quantity of cold water while in the hay field making hay; but being advised to go up to the hall and get a drink of something more nourishing, he took the advice, and went into the house, where the cook maid gave him some drink; and then he went into his own room and lay down. While thus on the bed the chamber door seemed to him to open of itself, and there came a thick smoke or mist, which on vanishing left him in extreme fear and horror; then appeared one Hindle, a fellow servant, with his hair cropped close to his ears, and he lay very heavy on his breast, but soon turned himself into the likeness of a naked child, which he caught by the knee; but the child became a "filmet" (foumart, pole-cat?), and went away with a shrill shriek. After this he raved, and was delirious; but when Dr. Chew physicked him, and Dr. Crabtree bled him, and Dr. Chew physicked him again, he had no more "fits," no more "obsessions" or "possessions," was no longer the demoniac of Surrey, half maniac, half impostor, but went quietly back to ordinary life, and the whole tribe of exorcising ministers were for once discomfited. It was a singular mercy to his friends and acquaintances that Master Richard did not take it into his head to delate any of them as witches, for assuredly he might have hanged half Lancashire on the strength of the whelps inside his body, and his galloping on all fours like a horse. He would not have been the first to shed innocent blood for the sake of keeping up a notoriety which, originally begun in very ordinary and natural disease, was afterwards continued in deception, fraud, and lies. THE GROCER'S YOUNG MAN.[158] A few years after (1704) Sarah Griffiths lay suspected for a witch, and a bad one, for all the children in her neighbourhood were afflicted with strange distempers, and had visions of cats and the like, so that no one coveted poor Sarah's company, and many removed because of her. Her guilt was discovered at last by a jolly young grocer's lad, who was one day weighing her out some soap, but the scales would not hang right, whereat he laughed and cried out they were bewitched. Sarah Griffiths did not understand joking. She got very angry, and ran out of the shop threatening revenge; and the next night all the goods in the shop were turned topsy-turvy, and the day after the jolly young fellow was troubled with a strange disease--but by prayer released. Meeting her by chance some time after, as he and some friends were walking up to New River Head, they resolved to swim her. They tossed her in, and she swam like a cork. They kept her there for some time, but at last she got out, and struck the young man on the arm, telling him he should pay dearly for what he had done. He looked at his arm and found it black as a coal, with the exact mark of her hand and fingers on it. He went home much tormented, vomiting old nails, pins, and the like, afflicted with fits and strange contortions, and for ever calling out against Mother Griffiths as he lay sickening and disabled. And then his arm gangrened and rotted off: whereby he died. Mother Griffith was taken by the constable, who, on her attempting to escape, knocked her down. She was secured more firmly, taken before the judge, and committed to Bridewell, whence--though I find no sequel to this strange little page--there is very little doubt that she was haled forth at the assizes only to be convicted and hanged. We are coming now (1712) to the last authentic trial for witchcraft where the accused was condemned to death for an impossible crime by a jury of sane, decent, respectable Englishmen. Jane Wenham was this latest offshoot of the old tree of judicial bigotry; not the latest fruit, but the last instance of the law and judgment. There is a report current in most witch books of a case at a later period--but I can find no _authentic_ account of it--that, in 1716, of a Mrs. Hicks and her little daughter of nine, hanged at Huntingdon for selling their souls to the devil, bewitching their neighbours to death and their crops to ruin, and, as a climax to all, taking off their stockings to raise a storm. It may well be so, but I have not met with it in any reliable shape, so meanwhile we must accept Jane Wenham as the last officially condemned. THE WITCH OF WALKERNE.[159] Jane Wenham was the witch of Walkerne, a little village in the north of Hertford. She had long lived under ill fame, and her neighbours were resolved to get rid of her at the earliest opportunity. That opportunity presented itself in the person of John Chapman's man, one Matthew Gilson, whom Jane sent into a daft state by asking him for a pennyworth of straw, which he refused to give her. The old woman went away, muttering and complaining, whereupon Matthew, impelled by he knew not what impulse, ran out of the barn for a distance of three miles, asking as he went for pennyworths of straw. Not getting any, he went on to some dirt heaps, and gathered up straw from them, which he put in his shirt and brought home. A witness testified that he had seen Gilson come back with his shirt stuffed full of straw, that he moved along quickly, and walked straight through the water, instead of passing over the bridge like any other decent man. For this odd behaviour of his servant, John Chapman, who had all along suspected Jane of more cunning than was good for him or her--called her a witch the next time he saw her; and Jane took him before the magistrate, Sir Herbert Chauncey, to answer to the charge of defamation. But the magistrate recommended them to go to Mr. Gardiner the minister, and a great believer in witchcraft, and get their matter settled without more trouble or vexation. Mr. Gardiner was too zealous to be just. He scolded poor old Jane roundly, and advised her to live more peaceably with her neighbours--which was just what she wanted to do--and gave as his award that Chapman do pay the fine of one shilling. While this bit of one-sided justice was going on, Anne Thorne, Mr. Gardiner's servant, was sitting by the fire with a dislocated knee. Jane, not able to compass her wicked will on Chapman, and angry that Mr. Gardiner had spoken so harshly to her, turned her malice on the girl, and bewitched her, so that as soon as they all left the kitchen Anne felt a strange "Roaming in her Head, and she thought she must of Necessity run somewhere." In spite then of her dislocated knee, she started off and ran up the close, and away over a five-barred gate "as nimbly as a greyhound," along the highway and up a hill. And there she met two of John Chapman's men, who wanted her to go home with them; and one took her hand; but she was forced away from them, speechless, and not of her own volition, and so was driven on, on, towards Cromer, where the great sea would have either stopped or received her. But when she came to Hockney Lane, she met there a "little Old Woman muffled up in a Riding-Hood," who asked her whither she was going. "To Cromer," says Anne, "for sticks to make me a fire." "There be no sticks at Cromer," says the little old woman in the riding hood: "here be sticks enow; go to that oak tree and pluck them there." Which Anne did, laying them on the ground as they were gathered. Then the old woman bade her pull off her gown and apron, and wrap the sticks in them; asking her if she had ne'er a pin about her; but finding that she had not, she gave her a large crooked pin, with which she bade her pin her bundle, then vanished away. So Anne Thorne ran home half naked, with her bundle of leaves and sticks in her hand, and sat down in the kitchen, crying out "I am ruined and undone!" When Mrs. Gardiner had opened the bundle, and seen all the twigs and leaves, she said they would burn the witch, and not wait long about it; so they flung the twigs and leaves into the fire; and while they were burning in came Jane Wenham, asking for Anne's mother, for she had, she said, a message to her, how that she was to go and wash next day at Ardley Bury, Sir Herbert Chauncey's place: which on inquiry turned out to be a falsehood: consequently Jane Wenham was set down doubly as a witch, the charm of burning her in the sticks having proved so effectual. John Chapman and his men then told their tale. Mr. Gardiner was not slow in fanning the flame into a fire, and poor old Jane was examined, searched for marks but none found, and committed to gaol, there to wait her trial at the next assizes. She earnestly entreated not to go to prison; protested her innocence, and appealed to Mrs. Gardiner to help her, woman-like, and not to swear against her; offering to submit to be swum--anything they would--so that she might be kept free of jail. But Sir Herbert Chauncey was just manly and rational enough not to allow of this test, though the Vicar of Ardeley tried her with the Lord's Prayer, which she could not repeat: and terrified and tortured her into a kind of confession, wherein she implicated three other women, who were immediately put under arrest, though they came to no harm in the end. When she was brought to trial, sixteen witnesses, including three clergymen, were standing there ready to testify against her, how that she had bewitched this one's cattle, and that one's sheep; and taken all the power from this one's body, and all the good from that one's gear; and slaughtered this child, and that man, by her evil eye and her curses; and in fact how that she had done all the mischief that had happened in the neighbourhood for years past. And there was Matthew Gilson, who had been sent mad, and forced to wander about the country with his shirt stuffed full of straw like a scarecrow; and Anne Thorne, who had had fits ever since her marvellous journey with the dislocated knee; and another Anne, very nearly as hardly holden as the first; and others beside, whom her malice had rendered sick and lame, and unfit for decent life: moreover, two veracious witnesses deposed positively to her taking the form of a cat when she would, and to hearing her converse with the devil when under the form of a cat, he also as a cat; together with Anne Thorne's distinct accusation that she was beset with cats--tormented exceedingly--and that all the cats had the face and the voice of Jane Wenham. The lawyers, who believed little in the devil and less in witchcraft, refused to draw up the indictment on any other charge save that of "conversing familiarly with the devil in the form of a cat." But in spite of Mr. Bragge's earnest appeals against such profanation, and the ridicule which it threw over the whole matter, the jury found the poor old creature guilty, and the judge passed sentence of death against her. The evidence was too strong. Even one of the Mr. Chaunceys deposed that a cat came knocking at his door, and that he killed it--when it vanished away, for it was no other than one of Jane Wenham's imps; and all Mr. Gardiner's house went mad, some in one way and some in another: and credible witnesses deposed that they had seen pins come jumping through the air into Anne Thorne's mouth, and when George Chapman clapped his hand before her mouth to prevent them skipping in, he felt one stick against his hand, as sharp as might be; and every night Anne's pincushion was left full, and every morning found empty, and who but Jane could have conveyed them all from the pincushion into her mouth, where they were to be found all crooked and bent? But though the jury could not resist the tremendous weight of all this evidence, and the judge could not resist the jury, he managed to get a reprieve which left the people time to cool and reflect, and then he got a pardon for her--quietly and kindly done. And Colonel Plummer, of Gilston, took her under his protection, and gave her a small cottage near his house, where she lived, poor soul, in peace and safety for the end of her days, doing harm to no one and feared by none. As for Anne Thorne, the doctor, who had ordered her, as part of his remedy, to wash her hands and face twice a day in fair water, and who, as another part, had her watched and sat with by a "lusty young fellow" who asked nothing better, managed matters so well, that in a short time Anne and her brisk bachelor were married; and from that time we hear no more of her vomiting crooked pins, or being tormented with visions of cats wearing Jane Wenham's face, and speaking with Jane Wenham's voice. But though all the rest got well off with their frights and follies, no public compensation was given to poor old Jane for the brutal attacks of the mob upon her, for the hauling and maiming and scratching and tearing, by which they proved to their own satisfaction that she was a witch, and deserved only the treatment accorded to witches. OUR LATEST. But if the last officially condemned, Jane was not the last actually destroyed, for a curious MS. letter to be found in the British Museum "From Mr. Manning, Dissenting Teacher, at Halstead, in Essex, to John Morley, Esq., Halstead," gives us a strange garbled account of a reputed sacrifice; and the sadder and more brutal story of Ruth Osborne follows a few years after. "Halstead, August 2, 1732. "SIR--The narrative which I gave you in relation to witchcraft, and which you are pleased to lay your commands upon me to repeat, is as follows:--There was one Master Collett, a smith by trade, of Haveningham, in the county of Suffolk, who, as 'twas customary with him, assisting the maide to churne, and not being able (as the phrase is) to make the butter come, threw a hot iron into the churn, under the notion of witchcraft in the case, upon which a poore labourer, then employed in carrying of dung in the yard, cried out in a terrible manner, 'They have killed me, they have killed me;' still keeping his hand upon his back, intimating where the pain was, and died upon the spot. "Mr. Collett, with the rest of the servants then present, took off the poor man's clothes, and found to their great surprise, the mark of the iron that was heated and thrown into the churn, deeply impressed upon his back. This account I had from Mr. Collett's own mouth, who being a man of unblemished character, I verily believe to be matter of fact. "I am, Sir, your obliged humble Servant, "SAM. MANNING." The only falsehood, probably, in the history is the manner of the poor fellow's death, for either he was foully murdered on a wild suspicion of being concerned in the witching of a dirty milk vessel, or he died suddenly of some ordinary organic complaint, and the circumstances of the horse-shoe and the scarred back were purely imaginary. But again in 1751 was witch blood actually poured out on English soil, and the cry of the innocent murdered sent up to heaven in vain for mercy. At Tring, in Hertfordshire, lived an old man, one Osborne, and his wife; poor as witches always were; old--past seventy both of them--and obliged to beg from door to door for what, if the popular superstition was true, the devil had given them power to possess at any moment for themselves. But this was a point of view no one ever took. In the rebellion of '45, just six years ago, old Mother Osborne had gone to one Butterfield, a dairyman living at Gubblecot, to beg for buttermilk. Butterfield was a churlish fellow, and told her roughly that he had not enough for his hogs, still less for her. Says old Mother Osborne, grumbling, "The Pretender will soon have thee and thy hogs too." Now the Pretender and the devil were in league together, according to the belief of many, and old Mother Osborne might just as well have told the dairyman at once that he was going to the devil, or that she would send her imps to bewitch him; for soon Butterfield's calves became distempered, and soon his cows died, and his affairs went so far to the bad that he left his dairy and took a public house, in hopes that the imps which could bewitch the one might be powerless against the other. But he reckoned without his host, for in 1751 he himself was bewitched; he had fits--bad fits--and sent for a white witch all the way from Northamptonshire to tell him what ailed him. The white witch told him he was bewitched, and bade six men, with staves and pitchforks hanging round their necks as counter charms for their own safety, watch his house night and day. Doubtless they discovered all they were set there to seek. Suddenly there appeared a notice that certain and various witches were to be ducked at Longmarston the 22nd day of April. A crowd assembled at Tring to watch the sport; and but one thought went through that crowd--the Osbornes were to be the ducked witches, and the sport they would have would be rare. The parish officers had taken the old couple into the workhouse for safety, but the mob broke through the gates, and crushed down the doors, and searched the whole place through, from end to end, even to the salt box, "lest the witch should have made herself little," and have hidden in the corners. But they could not find her, not even there; so, in a rage, they broke the windows, smashed the furniture, and then heaped up straw high against the house, threatening to burn it down, and every living soul within it, if the Osbornes were not given up them. The master was frightened; he had never faced such a scene before, and his nerve forsook him--not unreasonably. He brought the old people from their hiding place, and gave them up to that wild, tossing, furious mob. In a moment they were stripped stark naked, then cross-bound in the prescribed manner, wrapped loosely in a sheet, and dragged two miles along the road to a small pond or river, where with many a curse and many a kick they were thrown in, to prove whether they were witches or not. A chimney sweeper, called Colley, was the most active of the crew. Seeing that Mother Osborne did not sink, he waded into the water and turned her over with his stick. She slipped out of the sheet, and thus lay exposed, naked, and half choked with mud, before the brutal crowd, who saw nothing pitiful, and nothing shameful, in her state. After a time they dragged her out, flung her on the bank, and kicked and beat her till she died. Her husband died also, but not on the spot. The man who had arranged this rare diversion then went round among the crowd collecting money in return for his amusement. But government took the matter up. A coroner's inquest was held, and a verdict of wilful murder returned against Colley, the chimney sweep, who, much to his own surprise and the indignation of the people--many ranking him as a martyr--was hanged by the neck till he was dead, for the murder of the witch of Tring, poor old Ruth Osborne. The act against witchcraft, under colour and favour of which all the judicial murders had been done, had been repealed a few years before, namely, in 1736, and Colley's comrades bewailed piteously the degenerate times that were at hand, when a witch was no longer held fit sport for the public, but was protected and defended like ordinary folk, and let to live on to work her wicked will unchecked. But the snake is scotched, not killed. So far are we in advance of the men of the ruder past, inasmuch as our superstitions, though quite as silly, are less cruel than theirs, and hurt no one but ourselves. Yet still we have our wizards and witches lurking round area gates and prowling through the lanes and yards of the remoter country districts; still we have our necromancers, who call up the dead from their graves to talk to us more trivial nonsense than ever they talked while living, and who reconcile us with earth and humanity by showing us how infinitely inferior are heaven and spirituality; still we have the unknown mapped out in clear lines sharp and firm; and still the impossible is asserted as existing, and men are ready to give their lives in attestation of what contravenes every law of reason and of nature; still we are not content to watch and wait and collect and fathom before deciding, but for every new group of facts or appearances must at once draw up a code of laws and reasons, and prove, to a mathematical certainty, the properties of a chimera, and the divine life and beauty--of a lie. Even the mere vulgar belief in witchcraft remains among the lower classes; as witness the old gentleman who died at Polstead not so long ago, and who, when a boy, had seen a witch swum in Polstead Ponds, "and she went over the water like a cork;" who had also watched another witch feeding her three imps like blackbirds; and who only wanted five pounds to have seen all the witches in the parish dance on a knoll together: as witness also the strange letter of the magistrate, in the 'Times' of April 7, 1857; and the stranger trial at Stafford, concerning the bewitched condition of the Charlesworths, small farmers living at Rugely, which trial is to be found in the 'Times' of March 28, 1857; the case reported by the clergyman of East Thorpe, Essex, who had actually to mount guard against the door of an old Trot accused of witchcraft; while the instances of silly servant maids, and fortune tellers whose hands are to be crossed with silver, and the stars propitiated with cast off dresses and broken meat, are as numerous as ever. And, indeed, so long as conviction without examination, and belief without proof, pass as the righteous operations of faith, so long will superstition and credulity reign supreme over the mind, and the functions of critical reason be abandoned and foresworn. And as it seems to me that credulity is even a less desirable frame of mind than scepticism, I have set forth this collection of witch stories as landmarks of the excesses to which a blind belief may hurry and impel humanity, and perhaps as some slight aids to that much misused common sense which the holders of impossible theories generally consider "enthusiastic," and of "a nobler life" to tread under foot, and loftily ignore. THE END. LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET. Footnotes: [1] Pitcairn's 'Scottish Criminal Trials.' [2] Pitcairn's 'Scottish Criminal Trials.' [3] Pitcairn. [4] Pitcairn. [5] Pitcairn. [6] Pitcairn. [7] An iron instrument so constructed, that by means of a hoop which passed over the head, a piece of iron having four prongs or points, was forcibly thrust into the mouth, two of these being directed to the tongue and palate, the others pointing outwards to each cheek. This infernal machine was secured by a padlock. At the back of the collar was fixed a ring, by which to attach to a staple in the wall of her cell.--_Pitcairn's 'Scottish Criminal Trials.'_ [8] Fountainhall says that she was convict and burnt; but is this not a mistake? Pitcairn gives the actual trial, and King James's angry letter against the contumacious assisa. [9] Pitcairn. [10] Dr. Jamieson conjectures the word to signify "warm hose." After encircling the leg with an iron framework, it was put into a moveable furnace or chauffer, and during the progress of heating the iron, the intended questions were successively put.--_Note in Pitcairn's 'Scottish Criminal Trials.'_ [11] Pitcairn's 'Scottish Criminal Trials.' [12] Chambers' 'Domestic Annals of Scotland.' [13] 'Antiquarian Researches of Aberdeen, by Gavin Turriff: Spalding Club Miscellany. Chambers' 'Domestic Annals,' to the end of the Aberdeen trials. [14] Apparently untranslateable. [15] Patrick Anderson's MS. history of Scotland, quoted by Robert Chambers, in his 'Domestic Annals of Scotland.' [16] Pitcairn. [17] Pitcairn and Chambers. [18] Pitcairn. [19] Pitcairn. [20] Dalyell's 'Darker Superstitions of Scotland.' [21] Scott's 'Demonology and Witchcraft.' [22] Pitcairn. [23] Pitcairn and Chambers. [24] Star-grass, queries Pitcairn; but is it not rather fox-tree--fox-glove? [25] Chambers, Dalyell, Pitcairn. [26] Dalyell, quoting the judiciary records of Orkney. [27] Hibbert, quoting the Orkney Records. [28] Pitcairn. Sharpe's Introduction to Law's 'Memorials.' [29] Dalyell. [30] Law's 'Memorials,' (Sharpe's Introduction,) and Dalyell. [31] Chambers, Sinclair, Dalyell. [32] Dalyell's 'Darker Superstitions.' [33] Pitcairn. Law's 'Memorials.' Chambers. [34] Dalyell. [35] Chambers. [36] Chambers. [37] Dalyell. [38] Chambers and Law; Sharpe's Introduction. [39] Hibbert's 'Description of the Shetland Islands.' [40] Dalyell. Evidently the same thing with a different reading:--_red_, rode; _sool-soot_, stirrup; _sled_, slipped; _shinew_, sinew. [41] Hibbert, &c. [42] Sinclair's 'Invisible World Discovered.' [43] Pitcairn. [44] Sinclair. [45] To the outer room. [46] To the inner room. [47] Chambers. [48] Chambers. [49] Pitcairn and Sinclair. [50] Chambers' 'Domestic Annals.' [51] Law--Sharp's Introduction. [52] Dalyell. [53] Chambers. [54] Law's 'Memorials'--Sharp's Introductory Notice. [55] Pitcairn. [56] On life: alive. [57] Chambers. Sinclair. Various tracts. [58] Chambers. Dickie. Tracts. [59] Law's 'Memorials.' [60] Chambers. [61] Law's 'Memorials.' [62] Scots' Magazine. [63] Sinclair's 'Invisible World.' [64] Sinclair. [65] Hibbert's 'Shetland Islands.' [66] Hibbert and Sinclair. [67] Fountainhall. [68] Hibbert. [69] Chambers. [70] Watson's Tract, printed 1698. Chambers, Dickie, and various other sources. [71] Chambers. [72] Chambers. [73] Chambers; Sinclair; and an anonymous tract. [74] Chambers. [75] Hibbert. [76] Law's 'Memorials;' and Chambers. [77] A crazy old Illuminatus, who had a "call," and wrote the Tinkler's Testament. [78] Scott. Dickie. Chambers, &c. [79] Dickie's 'Philosophy of Magic.' [80] 'Select Cases of Conscience.' [81] 'Discoverie of Witchcraft.' [82] 'Discoverie of Witchcraft,' 1584. [83] 'Dialogue concerning Witches,' 1603. [84] 'Select Cases of Conscience touching Witches and Witchcraft,' 1646. [85] 'Advertisement to the Jurymen of England,' 1653. [86] 'A Candle in the Dark,' 1656. [87] 'Question of Witchcraft debated,' 1669. "Wagstaffe was a little crooked man, of a despicable presence. He was laughed at by the boys of Oxford because they said he himself looked like a wizard." [88] 'Displaying of Witchcraft,' 1677. [89] 'Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft,' 1720. [90] Introduction to Potts's 'Discovery of Witches,' edited by James Crossley, Esq. Chetham Society. 1845. [91] Conjuration or invocation of any evil spirit was felony without benefit of clergy; so also to consult, covenant with, entertain, feed, or reward any evil spirit, or to take up any dead body for charms or spells; to use or practise witchcrafts, enchantment, charm, or sorcery, so that any one was lamed, killed, or pined, was felony without benefit of clergy, to be followed up by burning. Then 'The Country Justice' goes on to give the legal signs of a witch, and those on which a magistrate might safely act, as legal "discoveries." She was to be found and proved by insensible marks; by teats; by imps in various shapes, such as toads, mice, flies, spiders, cats, dogs, &c.; by pictures of wax or clay; by the accusations of the afflicted; by her apparition seen by the afflicted as coming to torment them; by her own sudden or frequent inquiries at the house of the sick; by common report; by the accusations of the dying; and the bleeding of the corpse at her touch; by the testimony of children; by the afflicted vomiting pins, needles, straw, &c.; in short, by all the foolery, gravely formularized, to be found in the lies and deceptions hereafter related. [92] Thomas Wright's 'Narrative of Sorcery and Magic.' Southey's Ballad. [93] Thomas Wright's 'Narrative of Sorcery and Magic,' and 'Trial of Dame Alice Kyteler.' [94] Idem. [95] 'Introduction to the Narrative of the Proceedings against Dame Alice Kyteler.' By Thomas Wright. 1843. [96] Wright's 'Narrative of Sorcery and Magic.' 1851. [97] Reginald Scot. [98] Reginald Scot. Dr. Hutchinson. [99] Stow. [100] Scot, quoting a little pamphlet, without a title, which I cannot find. [101] From an extremely rare black-letter book, entitled 'A Detection of damnable driftes, practized by three Witches arraigned at Chelmsforde, in Essex, at the laste Assizes there holden, whiche were executed in Aprill 1579. Set forthe to discouer the Ambushementes of Sathan, whereby he would surprise us lulled in securitie, and hardened with contempte of God's vengeance threatened for our offences. Imprinted at London, for Edward White, at the little North-dore of Paules.' [102] Scot. [103] 'A true and just Recorde of the Information, Examination, and Confession of all the Witches, taken at S. Osees in the countie of Essex; whereof some were executed, and other some entreated according to the determination of lawe. Wherein all men may see what a pestilent people Witches are, and how vnworthy to lyve in a Christian Commonwealth. Written orderly, as the cases were tryed by euidence by W. W. Imprinted in London at the three Cranes, in the Vinetree, by Thomas Dawson. 1582.' [104] This was his manner of dealing with the accused, and its falsehood, iniquity, and injustice need no comment. [105] The names of the imps which haunted various persons was curious. A Dutch boy had Pretty Betty, Cuckow, Longtail; and Bernard gives us his list:--"Mephistophiles, Lucifer, Little Lord, Fimodes, David, Jude, Little Robin, Smack, Litefoote, Nonesuch, Lunch, Makeshift, Swash, Pluck, Blue, Catch, White, Collins, Hardname, Tibb, Hiff, Ball, Puss, Rutterkin, Dickie, Prettie, Grissel, and Jacke;" together with "Pippin, Philpot, Modu, Soforce, Hilco, Smolkin, Hillio, Hiaclito, Lustie, Huffe, Cap, Killico, Hob, Fratello, Fliberdigibbet, Hoberdidance, Tocobatto, and Lustie Jollie Jenkin." We have seen some of these already, and those who read farther will find a few more, and some quite as quaint and odd not set down in this list. [106] 'A true and most dreadfull discourse of a Woman possessed with the Deuill; who, in the likenesse of a headlesse Beare, fetched her oute of her Bedde, in the presence of seven persons, most straungely roulled her thorow three Chambers, and downe a high paire of stairres on the fower and twentie of May last, 1584. At Ditchet, in Somersetshire. A matter as miraculous as ever was seen in our time. Imprinted at London for Thomas Nelson.' [107] 'A compleat History of Magick, Sorcery, and Witchcraft.' By Richard Boulton. 1715. [108] Hutchinson's 'Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft.' Boulton's 'History of Magic.' Harsent's 'Discovery of the Fravdvlent Practises of J. Darrel.' 'A True Relation of the Strange and Grevovs Vexation by the Devil of 7 Persons in Lancashire, and William Somers of Nottingham.' By John Darrel. 1600. [109] 'A Dialogue concerning Witches and Witchcrafts.' 1603. [110] This is an old story, found in all books on witchcraft. [111] George Sinclair's 'Satan's Invisible World Displayed.' [112] Hutchinson's 'Essay on Witchcraft.' [113] 'The Witches of Northamptonshire.' Agnes Browne, } Arthur Bill, } } } Witches. Ioane Vaughan,} Hellen Ienkinson,} Mary Barber. Who were all executed at Northampton the 22 of Iuly last, 1612. 'London. Printed by Tho. Purfoot for Arthur Iohnson. 1612.' A rare and valuable little black-letter tract. [114] 'The Wonderful Discoverie of Witches in the County of Lancaster.' By Thomas Potts. 1613. Thomas Wright's 'Narrative of Sorcery and Magic.' 1851. [115] "Ligh in," perhaps lykinge, lusty, or craske. [116] "Leath," flexible. [117] The chrism was the white cloth placed over the brow of a newly-baptized child in the Roman Catholic service. When children died within the month they were called chrisoms. [118] "Farrandly," fair, handsome. [119] "Harne panne," brain case, cranium. [120] Gethsemane. [121] "Deere," hurt. [122] Potts's 'Discovery.' Webster's 'Displaying.' [123] A 'Treatise of Witchcraft.' By Alexander Roberts, B.D., and Preacher of God's word at King's Linne in Norfolk. 1616. [124] Tract. Printed at London by G. Eld for I. Barnes, dwelling in the long Walke, neare Christ-Church. 1619. [125] Wright and Hutchinson. [126] Wright, quoting Lord Londesborough's MSS. [127] Wright. [128] Webster. Wright. Harleian MSS. [129] 'A most Certain Strange and true Discovery of a witch, being taken by some Parliamentary Forces as she was standing on a small planck-board and sayling on it over the River of Newberry. 1643.' Evidently a political matter, and perhaps with no substratum of truth in the story at all. [130] A collection of Modern Relations. 1693. [131] Matthew's own account of them in a little tract called 'Certaine Queries Answered, which have been and are likely to be objected against Matthew Hopkins, in his way of finding out witches,' was slightly different.--1. Holt, like a white kitling.--2. Jarmara, a fat spaniel without any legs at all, which she said she kept fat, for he sucked good blood from her body.--3. Vinegar Tom, a long-legged greyhound with an head like an ox, a long tail and broad eyes, who, when Hopkins spoke to, and bade him go to the place provided for him and his angels, transformed himself into the shape of a child of foure years without a head, and gave half a dozen turns about the house and vanished at the door.--4. Sack-and-sugar, like a black rabbit; and 5. Newes, like a polecat. Also he said that no mortal could invent such names as Elemauzer, Pyewacket, Peck in the Crown, Griezel Greedigut, &c., which, however, one of our great word-masters, Charles Dickens, would find no difficulty in doing, and which certainly have no very infernal sound in them. [132] Baxter, Hutchinson, &c. [133] Baxter. [134] Tract. [135] 'The Laws against Witches.' Published by Authority, 1645. [136] 'Collection of Modern Relations.' [137] 'The Devil's Delusion.' 1649. [138] Baxter. [139] Baxter's 'Certainty of the World of Spirits.' [140] 'A Prodigious and Tragicall History of the Arraignment, Tryall, Confession, and Condemnation of six Witches at Maidstone, in Kent, at the Assizes held there in July, Fryday 30, this present year 1652. Before the Right Honourable Peter Warburton, one of the Justices of the Common Pleas. Collected from the Observations of E. G. Gent, a learned Person, present at their Conviction and Condemnation, and digested by H. F. Gent.' London: Printed for Richard Harper in Smithfield, 1652. [141] A true Relation of one Mrs. Atkins, a Mercer's Wife in Warwick, who was strangely carried away from her house in July last, and hath not since been heard of. [142] Dr. George More's 'Antidote to Atheism.' Dr. Lamb's 'Darling.' By James Bower. 1653. [143] Glanvil's 'Saducismus Triumphatus.' [144] Reginald Scot. [145] 'Collection of Modern Relations.' [146] Glanvil [147] Glanvil. [148] Glanvil. [149] Tract; Published 1682. [150] Baxter's 'World of Spirits.' [151] 'Hartfordshire Wonder; or, Strange News from Ware.' London. Printed for John Clark, at the Bible and Harp, in West-Smith-Field, near the Hospital Gate. 1669. [152] Boulton's 'Compleat History of Magick.' [153] Baxter, Hutchinson. [154] Dr. Hutchinson. [155] That date seems wrong: ought it not to be 1699? [156] Boulton's 'Compleat History of Magick.' Dr. Hutchinson's 'Historical Essay.' [157] Surrey in Lancashire. [158] A Tract of one leaf in a collection of trials. [159] Various Tracts--and 'Thomas Wright's Narrative.' [160] Thomas Wright. * * * * * * Transcriber's note: Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). Superscripted letters are enclosed within brackets (example: y{e} indicates the "e" is superscripted). Additional spacing after some of the quotes is intentional to indicate both the end of a quotation and the beginning of a new paragraph as presented in the original text. Some quotation marks are not paired in the original. Obvious errors have been corrected without comment, while those requiring interpretation have been left as they were. Footnote 160 (page 424) has no in-text marker in the original. The following misprints have been corrected: "withcraft" corrected to "witchcraft" (page 163) "hat" corrected to "that" (page 218) "cying" corrected to "crying" (page 242) "expeperience" corrected to "experience" (page 404) "sen" corrected to "sent" (page 418) Other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original text. 
43966	----	generously made available by The Internet Archive.) Witchcraft and Superstitious Record Witchcraft and Superstitious Record IN THE South-Western District of Scotland Witchcraft Witch Trials Fairy Lore Brownie Lore Wraiths Warnings Death Customs Funeral Ceremony Ghost Lore Haunted Houses BY J. MAXWELL WOOD, M.B. _Author of "Smuggling in the Solway and Around the Galloway Sea-board"_ _Editor of "The Gallovidian," 1900-1911_ _Illustrated from Special Drawings by John Copland, Esq., Dundrenna_ DUMFRIES: J. MAXWELL & SON 1911 "For she's gathered witch dew in the Kells kirkyard, In the mirk how of the moon, And fed hersel' wi' th' wild witch milk With a red-hot burning spoon." --_M'Lehan._ [Illustration] _To_ Alison Jean Maxwell Wood _A "witch" of my most intimate acquaintance_ PREFACE. Throughout Dumfriesshire and Galloway remnants of old-world customs still linger, suggesting a remoter time, when superstitious practice and belief held all-important sway in the daily round and task of the people. In gathering together the available material bearing upon such matters, more particularly in the direction of witchcraft, fairy-lore, death warnings, funeral ceremony and ghost story, the author trusts that by recording the results of his gleanings much as they have been received, and without at all attempting to subject them to higher analysis or criticism, a truer aspect and reflection of the influence of superstition upon the social life of those older days, may be all the more adequately presented. 112 GEORGE STREET, EDINBURGH, August 9th, 1911. CONTENTS. _Page._ CHAPTER I. Traditional Witchcraft Described 1 CHAPTER II. Witch Narrative 21 CHAPTER III. Witchcraft Trials and Persecution 66 CHAPTER IV. Fairies and Brownies 142 CHAPTER V. Wraiths and Warnings 198 CHAPTER VI. Death Customs and Funeral Ceremony 216 CHAPTER VII. Ghost Lore and Haunted Houses 244 APPENDIX. (_a_) Surprising Story of the Devil of Glenluce 302 (_b_) A True Relation of an Apparition which Infested the house of Andrew Mackie, Ringcroft of Stocking, Parish of Rerwick, etc. 321 (_c_) The Laird o' Coul's Ghost 344 ILLUSTRATIONS. _Page._ The Witches' Ride 4 "And Perish'd Mony a Bonny Boat" 12 The Carlin's Cairn 35 A Witch-Brew and Incantation 38 "A Running Stream they dare na cross" 69 A Witch Trial 85 The Burning of the Nine Women on the Sands of Dumfries, April 13th, 1659 114 Penance 125 "In Fairy Glade" 152 "Riddling in the Reek" 167 An Eerie Companion 206 "Deid Lichts" 211 Funeral Hospitality 222 A Galloway Funeral of Other Days 238 The Headless Piper of Patiesthorn 266 The Ghost of Buckland Glen 271 "To Tryst with Lag" 280 Ringcroft of Stocking 324 TAIL-PIECES. _Page._ A Threefold Charm 'gainst Evil 20 Witch Stool and Brooms 65 Witch Cauldron, Ducking Stool, and Stake 141 To Kep Skaith 197 A Midnight Revel 215 Haunted 243 WITCHCRAFT AND SUPERSTITIOUS RECORD IN THE SOUTH-WESTERN DISTRICT OF SCOTLAND. _CHAPTER I._ TRADITIONAL WITCHCRAFT DESCRIBED. "When out the hellish legion sallied." --_Tam o' Shanter._ In the far-off days, when Superstition, in close association with the "evil sister" of Ignorance, walked abroad in the land, the south-western district of Scotland shared very largely in the beliefs and terrors embraced under the general descriptive term of witchcraft. Active interference in the routine of daily life on the part of the Prince of Darkness and his agencies was fully believed in. The midnight ride, the power of conversion into animal semblance and form, mystic rite and incantation, spells and cantrips, as well as the presence on earth of the Devil himself, who generally appeared in some alluring form--all had a firmly-established place in the superstitious and impressionable minds of the people who dwelt in the land of those darker days. In approaching the whole matter for descriptive purposes, the traditional, or as it may perhaps be fittingly termed, the "ideal" form of witchcraft, falls naturally first to be considered, and here the existence of a secret society or unholy order of witches and warlocks meeting together at certain appointed times, figures as an outstanding feature, qualification to belong to which, confessed rare powers of affinity with the powers of evil and darkness. The more these witches and warlocks were feared in their ordinary guise as human mortals by the country-side or district to which they belonged, the higher the rank accorded to them in secret conclave, and the special notoriety of having been branded or "scored," at the hands of an angry populace, with the sign of the cross on the forehead, carried with it special recognition of itself. Reputed gatherings or witch-festivals were celebrated periodically, the most important and outstanding taking place at Hallowmass, and such eerie places of meeting as the lonely ruins of Sweetheart Abbey and Caerlaverock Castle, were the appropriate scenes of their midnight rites and revels; but most of all in this south-western district was it to the rising slope of Locharbriggs Hill, not many miles from Dumfries, that the "hellish legion" repaired. There is a remnant extant of an old song called the "Witches' Gathering," that with quaint and mystic indication tells of the preliminary signals and signs, announcing that a midnight re-union or "Hallowmass rade" as it was aptly termed, had been arranged and appointed:-- "When the gray howlet has three times hoo'd, When the grimy cat has three times mewed, When the tod has yowled three times i' the wode, At the red moon cowering ahin the cl'ud; When the stars ha'e cruppen' deep i' the drift, Lest cantrips had pyked them out o' the lift, Up horsies a' but mair adowe, Ryde, ryde for Locher-briggs-knowe!" On such a night the very elements themselves seemed in sympathy. The wind rose, gust following gust, in angry and ever-increasing intensity, till it hurled itself in angry blasts that levelled hay-rick and grain-stack, and tore the thatched roof from homestead and cot, where the frightened dwellers huddled and crept together in terror. Over and with higher note than the blast itself, high-pitched eldritch laughter, fleeting and mocking, skirled and shrieked through the air. Then a lull, with a stillness more terrifying than even the wild force of the angry blast, only to be almost immediately broken with a crash of ear-splitting thunder, and the flash and the glare of forked and jagged flame, lighting up the unhallowed pathway of the "witches' ride." [Illustration: "THE WITCHES' RIDE." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] The journey itself, or rather the mode of progression in passing to the "witch gathering," was itself steeped in "diabolerie" of varying degree. The simple broomstick served the more ordinary witch for a steed. Another vehicle was the chariot of "rag-wort" or ragweed, "harnessed to the wind;" for sisters of higher rank, broomsticks specially shod with the bones of murdered men, became high mettled and most spirited steeds; but the possession of a bridle, the leather of which was made from the skin of an unbaptised infant, and the iron bits forged at the "smithy" of the Evil One himself, gave to its possessor the power of most potent spell. Only let a witch shake this instrument of Satan over any living thing, man or beast, and at once it was transformed into an active witch steed in the form generally of a gray horse, with the full knowledge and resentment that a spell had been wrought, to compass this ignoble use. This was familiarly known and described as being "ridden post by a witch." No better picture was ever drawn of the wild witch diabolerie and abandon than in "Tam o' Shanter," but it may be claimed for Galloway that in the possession of the powerful poem of "Maggie o' the Moss," Ayrshire is followed very closely, as the following quotation bearing upon this particular point brings out:-- "But Maggie had that nicht to gang Through regions dreary, dark, and lang, To hold her orgies. * * * * * Then cross his haunches striding o'er, She gave him the command to soar: At first poor Simon, sweir to yield, Held hard and fast the frosty field; His body now earth's surface spurn'd, He seem'd like gravitation turned; His heels went bickering in the air, He held till he could haud nae mair, Till first wi' ae han', syne the tither, He lost his haud o't a' thegither; And mounted up in gallant style, Right perpendicular for a mile. * * * * * For brawly ken'd she how to ride, And stick richt close to Simon's hide; For aft had Maggie on a cat Across the German Ocean sat; And wi' aul' Nick and a' his kennel, Had often crossed the British Channel, And mony a nicht wi' them had gone To Brussels, Paris, or Toulon; And mony a stormy Hallowe'en Had Maggie danced on Calais Green!" Like a swarm of bees in full flight they passed, all astride of something, be it rag-wort, broomstick, kail-runt, hare, cat, or domestic fowl, or even as indicated riding post on a human steed. Assembled at the Dumfriesshire or Galloway "Brocken," tribute to Satan, who presided in person, had to be paid for the privilege of exercising their unholy licence over their several districts and neighbourhoods. This took the form of unchristened "Kain Bairns," the witches' own by preference, but failing this, the stolen offspring of women of their own particular neighbourhood. The rite of baptismal entry, which all novitiates had to undergo, was also a regular part of the weird proceedings of this witches' Sabbath. A magic circle was drawn round the top of the meeting mound, across which none but the initiated and those about to be initiated, dare pass. In the centre of this circle a fire emitting a thick, dense, sulphurous smoke sprang up, round which the assembled company of witches and warlocks danced with joined hands and wild abandon. Into the charmed circle the converts, naked and terror-stricken, were brought and dragged to the fire, which now sent forth even thicker clouds as if in a measure to screen the secrecy of the rites even from those participating, and scream after scream arose as their naked bodies were stamped with the hellish sign-manual of the order. A powerful soothing ointment was, however, immediately poured on the raw wounds, giving instant relief and almost effacement to the ordinary eye, the well-concealed cicatrix becoming the "witch-mark." The grim nature of the ordeal now gave place to proceedings more in keeping with a festival, and dancing of the "better the worse" order and general hilarity and high revelry followed, the Prince of Darkness joining in the dance, giving expert exhibitions with favoured partners. Next in importance to Satan himself at these "Walpurgis" night festivals at Locharbriggs tryst, was the celebrated witch "Gyre Carline," who possessed a wand of great creative and destructive power. It is told how in the days when Lochar Moss was an open arm of the Solway Firth, an extra large tide swept up and washed away several of the witch steeds from the Locharbrigg hill. This so enraged the "Gyre Carline" that over the unruly waters she waved her magic wand, and what was "once a moss and then a sea" became "again a moss and aye will be." At other meetings of less consequence the more important carlines of different districts met together, when schemes of persecution and revenge were evolved, and where philtres and charms were brewed and concocted for distribution amongst their inferior sisters whose office it was to give them effect. A concoction of virulent power was in the form of a bannock or cake, better known as the "witch cake," whose uncannie preparation and potency has been so quaintly described in verse by Allan Cunningham:-- THE WITCH CAKE. "I saw yestreen, I saw yestreen, Little wis ye what I saw yestreen, The black cat pyked out the gray ane's een At the hip o' the hemlock knowe yestreen. Wi' her tail i' her teeth, she whomel'd roun', Wi' her tail i' her teeth, she whomel'd roun', Till a braw star drapt frae the lift aboon, An' she keppit it e'er it wan to the grun. She hynt them a' in her mou' an' chowed, She hynt them a' in her mou' an' chowed, She drabbled them owre wi' a black tade's blude, An' baked a bannock an' ca'd it gude! She haurned it weel wi' ae blink o' the moon, She haurned it weel wi' ae blink o' the moon, An withre-shines thrice she whorled it roun', There's some sall skirl ere ye be done. Some lass maun gae wi' a kilted sark, Some priest maun preach in a thackless kirk, Thread maun be spun for a dead man's sark, A' maun be done e'er the sang o' the lark. Tell me what ye saw yestreen, Tell me what ye saw yestreen, There's yin may gaur thee sich an' green, For telling what ye saw yestreen." At such minor meetings also, effigies were moulded in clay of those who had offended, which pierced with pins conveyed serious bodily injuries and disorder in their victims corresponding to the pin punctures. Two of these carlines dispensing the "black art" in the respective parishes of Caerlaverock and Newabbey were in the habit of meeting with each other for such purpose, but the holy men of Sweetheart Abbey overcame their wicked designs by earnest prayers, so much so that their meetings on the solid earth were rendered futile, and thus thwarted, their intercourse had to take place on the water. Of this the following tale from "Cromek," as reputed to be told by an eye-witness, is descriptive:-- "I gaed out ae fine summer night to haud my halve at the Pow fit. It was twal' o'clock an' a' was lowne; the moon had just gotten up--ye mought a gathered preens. I heard something firsle like silk--I glowered roun' an' lake! what saw I but a bonnie boat, wi' a nob o' gowd, and sails like new-coined siller. It was only but a wee bittie frae me. I mought amaist touch't it. 'Gude speed ye gif ye gang for guid,' quoth I, 'for I dreed our auld carline was casting some o' her pranks.' Another cunning boat cam' off frae Caerla'rick to meet it. Thae twa bade a stricken hour thegither sidie for sidie. 'Haith,' quoth I, 'the deil's grit wi' some!' sae I crap down amang some lang cowes till Luckie cam' back. The boat played bowte again the bank, an out lowpes Kimmer, wi' a pyked naig's head i' her han'. 'Lord be about us!' quo' I, for she cam' straught for me. She howked up a green turf, covered her bane, an' gaed her wa's. When I thought her hame, up I got and pou'd up the bane and haed it. I was fleyed to gae back for twa or three nights, lest the deil's minnie should wyte me for her uncannie boat and lair me 'mang the sludge, or maybe do waur. I gaed back howsever, and on that night o' the moon wha comes to me but Kimmer. 'Rabbin,' quo' she, 'fand ye are auld bane amang the cowes?' ''Deed no, it may be gowd for me,' quo' I. 'Weel, weel,' quo' she, 'I'll byde and help ye hame wi' your fish.' God's be me help, nought grippit I but tades and paddocks! 'Satan, thy nieve's here,' quo' I. 'Ken ye' (quo' I) 'o' yon new cheese our wyfe took but frae the chessel yestreen? I'm gaun to send't t' ye i' the morning, ye're a gude neebor to me: an' hear'st thou me? There's a bit auld bane whomeled aneath thae cowes; I kent nae it was thine.' Kimmer drew't out. 'Ay, ay, it's my auld bane; weel speed ye.' I' the very first pow I got sic a louthe o' fish that I carried 'till me back cracked again."(1) A celebrated witch connected with Wigtownshire was Maggie Osborne. [Illustration: "AND PERISH'D MONY A BONNY BOAT."--Tam o' Shanter. Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] "On the wild moorland between the marches of Carrick and the valley of the Luce tracks are pointed out, on which the heather will not grow, as 'Maggie's gate to Gallowa''; the sod having been so deeply burned by her tread, or that of her weird companion. Among the misdemeanours imputed to her, in aggravation of the charge for which she was cruelly condemned, was that of having impiously partaken of the communion at the Moor Kirk of Luce. She accepted the bread at the minister's hands, but a sharp-eyed office-bearer (long after) swore that he had detected her spitting out the wafer at the church-door, which he clearly saw swallowed by the devil, who had waited for her outside in the shape of a toad. Again it was asserted that when passing from Barr to Glenluce by the 'Nick o' the Balloch' she encountered a funeral procession, and to pass unseen she changed herself into a beetle; but before she could creep out of the way, a shepherd in the party unwittingly set his foot upon her, and would have crushed her outright had not a rut partly protected her. Much frightened and hurt she vowed vengeance; but the moor-man being a pious man, for long her arts were of no avail against him. One night however, detained late by a storm, he sat down hurriedly to supper, having forgotten to say grace. Her incantations then had power. A wreath of snow was collected and hurled from the hill above on the devoted cabin, and the shepherd, his wife, and family of ten were smothered in the avalanche."(2) In Glenluce a story is handed down which brings out that it was not necessarily the dweller in the humble cot on whom the mantle of witchcraft fell, but that the high-bred dames of the "Hall" did also at times dabble in the practice. "A labouring man's wife, a sensible, decent woman, having been detained late from home, was returning about the witching hour; and at a spot known as the 'Clay Slap' she met face to face a troop of females, as to whose leader, being cloven-footed, she could not be mistaken. Her consternation was the greater, as one by one she recognised them all, and among them the ladies of the manor. They stopped her, and in her terror she appealed to one of them by name. Enraged at being known, the party declared that she must die. She pleaded for mercy, and they agreed to spare her life on her taking an awful oath that she would never reveal the names of any as long as they lived. "Fear prevented her from breaking her pledge, but as one by one the dames paid the debt of nature, she would mysteriously exclaim 'There's anither of the gang gone!' She outlived them all, and then divulged the secret, adding that on that dreadful night, after getting to her bed, she lay entranced in an agony as if she had been roasting between two fires."(3) The name of Michael Scott of Balwearie (Fife), scholar and alchemist, who lived in the thirteenth century, is traditionally associated with the Abbey of Glenluce. Regarded by the peasantry as a warlock, he was supposed to be here buried with his magic books, and there is a story extant to the effect that a man in the district who daringly disinterred his skeleton, found it in a sitting position confronting him, and that the sight drove him stark mad. Whilst in the neighbourhood of Glenluce, "Michael the Warlock" is credited with having exercised strong discipline over the witches of the district. One task he assigned them to keep them from more doubtful work, was to spin ropes from sea-sand, and it is yet said that some of the rope fragments may be seen to this day near Ringdoo Point, near the mouth of the Luce, when laid bare by wind and tide. Another equally profitless and endless task set for the same purpose of keeping them from unsanctioned, mischievous deeds, was the threshing of barley chaff. There is a quaint reference in MacTaggart's _Gallovidian Encyclopædia_ to the "Library of Michael Scott." He says, "One of these (vaults) at the Auld Abbey of Glenluce contains the famous library of Michael Scott, the Warlock. Here are thousands of old witch songs and incantations, books of the 'Black Art,' and 'Necromancy,' 'Philosophy of the Devil,' 'Satan's Almanacks,' 'The Fire Spangs of Faustus,' 'The Soothsayers' Creed,' 'The Witch Chronicle,' and the 'Black Clud's Wyme laid open,' with many more valuable volumes." It may be noted in passing that the Abbey of Holm-Cultram, in Cumberland, has also been associated as the burial-place of the Wizard Michael; but it is with Melrose Abbey, as depicted by Sir Walter Scott in the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," that the most cherished associations linger, even if only in the romance of poetry:-- "With beating heart to the task he went; His sinewy frame o'er the grave-stone bent; With bar of iron heaved amain, Till the toil-drops fell from his brows like rain; It was by dint of passing strength, That he moved the massy stone at length." * * * * * "Before their eyes the Wizard lay, As if he had not been dead a day." The religious house of Tongland may be said to have some slight connection here, for in Dunbar's poem of "The Dream of the Abbot of Tungland" (the "frenziet" Friar) there is reference to a witch--"Janet the widow, on ane besome rydand." "Bess o' Borgue" and "Glencairn Kate" were two notorious south-country witches. They are included in the descriptive witch-poem of "Maggie o' the Moss," already referred to. About the middle of the eighteenth century there was a famous witch that lived at Hannayston, in the Kells, who was credited with wonderful powers, and many stories of her exploits are still current. Some say her name was Nicholas Grier, others that it was Girzie M'Clegg, but it matters little which now. Some of Lucky's favourite pastimes were, drowning anyone she had a spite at by sinking a caup in the yill-boat in her kitchen; sucking cows in the shape of a hare; frightening people at night by appearing to them like a little naked boy; walking in the resemblance of a cat on its hind legs; conversing with travellers on the road; and sending young people into declines.(4) The old Church of Dalry has a legend of witch-festival surrounding it, which gives it a distinction something akin to the better-known tradition of Alloway Kirk. The following version is taken from _Harper's Rambles_:-- "Adam Forester, proprietor of Knocksheen, had been detained one evening until near midnight in the public-house at Dalry. On the way home he had to pass the church, and being perhaps like the famous Tam o' Shanter, through indulging in inspiring bold John Barleycorn, ready to defy all dangers in the shape of goblin and spirit, he very soon had his mettle tested. On reaching the church the windows 'seemed in a bleeze,' and from within loud bursts of mirth and revelry reached the ears of the astonished laird. Nothing daunted however, he dismounted, and securing his horse to a tree near the church-yard wall, he peered in at the window, and to his astonishment, amongst those engaged in the 'dance o' witches' were several old women of his acquaintance, amongst whom was the landlady of the public-house where he had spent the greater part of the evening, and which he had just left. Horrified with such desecration of the sacred edifice, and unable longer to restrain his displeasure, Forester shouted, 'Ho! ho! Lucky, ye'll no deny this the morn!' knocking at the same instant against the window frame with his whip. In a moment the lights were extinguished, and the witches with loud yells rushed out of the church after him; but the laird, having gained his horse, went off at a furious gallop for the ford on the Ken, his pursuers following hard upon him, their frantic and hideous shouts striking terror to his heart. As they could not cross the running stream, they flew to the Brig o' Ken, six miles distant, where they crossed and overtook Adam on Waterside Hill, tearing all the hair out of the horse's tail, and Lucky getting her black hand on the horse's hip. She left its impression there for life. The laird, finding he could proceed no further, dismounted and was only saved from being torn to pieces by describing a circle in God's name round himself and horse. This charm proved effectual. The fury of the mysterious band was arrested, and at daybreak he rode home to his residence." The story is still current in the Glenkens, and what is supposed to be the circle drawn by the laird is pointed out on Waterside Hill. In concluding the account of "traditional witchcraft," there yet falls to be mentioned one outstanding form in which beautiful and seductive female shapes were assumed to tempt through the flesh, the destruction of soul and body. There is no better reference to this than in the local traditional tale of the "Laird of Logan" of Allan Cunningham, where the struggle between the powers of darkness and those of good contend, not without a certain dignity of purpose, for the mastery. The following is the dramatic denouement:-- "He took a sword from the wall, and described a circle, in the centre of which he stood himself. Over the line drawn with an instrument on which the name of God is written, nought unholy can pass. 'Master, stand beside me, and bear ye the sword.' He next filled a cup with water, and said, 'Emblem of purity, and resembling God, for He is pure, as nought unholy can pass over thee whilst thou runnest in thy native fountain, neither can ought unholy abide thy touch, thus consecrated--as thou art the emblem of God, go and do His good work. Amen.' So saying he turned suddenly round and dashed the cupful of water in the face and bosom of the young lady--fell on his knees and bowed his head in prayer. She uttered scream upon scream; her complexion changed; her long locks twined and writhed like serpents; the flesh seemed to shrivel on her body; and the light shone in her eyes which the Master trembled to look upon. She tried to pass the circle towards him but could not. A burning flame seemed to encompass and consume her; and as she dissolved away he heard a voice saying, 'But for that subtle priest, thou hadst supped with me in hell.'" [Illustration] _CHAPTER II._ WITCH NARRATIVE. "The best kye in the byre gaed yell; Some died, some couldna raise themsel'; In short, ilk' beast the farmer had Died--sicken'd--rotted--or gaed mad!" --_Maggie o' the Moss._ The witchcraft however, which had a special abiding-place in rural districts, was most usually associated with the presence in their midst of someone to whom it was supposed the devil had bequeathed the doubtful possession of the "evil eye," a possession which at all times was deemed a certain means of bringing about supernatural ill. Other suspected workers of subtle cantrips whom the finger of suspicion was ready to point to were old creatures, not uncommonly poor and eccentric, perhaps even deformed or with some peculiarity, but generally genuinely blameless, or in some instances foolishly seeking notoriety in the pretended possession of witch-power. The spells and cantrips alleged to be cast by these agencies were usually such as brought harmful effect upon human being or farm stock, such supposed incidence of supernatural interference being accepted without question. A natural consequence followed in misdirected measures of protection and retaliation. The whole atmosphere of domestic life became charged with suspicious attitude towards one another, and when illness overtook either human being or four-footed beast, or some such minor happening as a heated stack, or a cow failing to yield milk, took place, the presence of the "Black Art" was proclaimed in their midst, and too often was accidental circumstance followed by unjust cruelty and persecution, sanctioned and practised, as we shall see later, by the powers of the State and Church. Many stories of such form of witchcraft have been handed down and still form a not inconsiderable part of the floating tradition pertaining to the south-western district of Dumfries and Galloway. The following traditions, not hitherto recorded, are from western Galloway, and may be regarded as consequent to the influence of the "evil eye":-- "There was an old woman who went about Kirkmaiden begging, or what old people call 'thigging,' and one day in the course of her wanderings she came to a place called 'The Clash' and asked for butter, which she seemed to particularly want. As luck would have it, the farm folks had only newly put the milk into the churn, and had no butter in the house until it was churned. In passing, it may be noticed that the churn was always put out of sight when this old woman appeared, in case she might 'witch' it. As they had no butter they offered her both meal and a piece of meat, but butter she would have, so she went away, muttering 'that maybe she would fen' without it,' and more talk to the same purpose. The farmer met her on the way from the house and heard her mutterings. On arriving at his house he asked what they had done to the old woman to put her in such a temper, and was told the circumstances. He had two young horses in a field beside the house, and going out of the house into the field he found one of them rolling on the ground seemingly in great pain. Of course he jumped to the conclusion that this was some of the witch's cantrips, and after trying to get it to rise, bethought himself of going after her and bringing her back to get her to lift the spell. Following the old woman, who was very lame, he soon overtook her and tried to coax her to return to see if she could tell him what was wrong. She demurred at first, but he pressed her, and at last she said, that seeing he was so anxious she would go back. When they arrived the animal was still suffering great pain, and she proceeded to walk round it some few times always muttering to herself, and at last cried, 'Whish! get up,' striking the horse; 'there's naething wrang wi' ye.' The horse at once got up and commenced feeding, apparently nothing the matter with it."(5) "At the Dribblings, on what is now the farm of Low Curghie (Kirkmaiden), lived a cottar who was the owner of two cows. One morning on going to the byre one of the cows was on the ground and unable to rise. The people did not know what to do, but as luck would have it, the same old woman that cured the horse at The Clash happened to come in, and was informed of the trouble, and was asked if she could do anything, and was promised a piece of butter for her trouble. She went and looked at the cow, and said someone with an 'ill e'e had overlooked it,' _i.e._, witched it, and proceeded to walk round it two or three times, talking to herself, and then gave it a tap with her stick and told the animal to get up, she was all right now. The cow immediately got to her feet and commenced feeding."(6) "At a farm-house in the vicinity of Logan an old woman, a reputed witch, was in the habit of receiving the greater part of her sustenance from the farmer and his wife. The farmer began to get tired of this sorning, and one day took his courage in both hands and turned the witch at the gate. The old woman of course was sorely displeased, and told him that he would soon have plenty of 'beef,' and in the course of a day or two many of his cattle had taken the muir-ill. Next time the old woman wanted to go to the house she was not hindered. She got her usual supply, and thereafter not another beast took the disease."(7) It is related of the same old woman that once she wanted some favour off the factor on Logan, and one day as he rode past her dwelling she hailed him. Not caring to be troubled with her he made the excuse that his horse would not stand as it was young and very restive; but she said she would soon make it stand, and by some spell so terrified the animal that it stood trembling while the sweat was running over its hooves. "The farm of the Grennan, in the Rhinns, had been taken or was reported to have been taken over the sitting tenant's head; and the new tenants, when they took possession, were regarded with general disfavour. The farm good-wife was a bustling, energetic woman, with some pretensions as to good looks, and was always extremely busy. One day an old-fashioned diminutive woman knocked at the door and asked for a wee pickle meal. The good-wife answered in an off-hand manner that she had no meal for her, and told her to 'tak' the gait.' The old woman looked at her steadily for a short time, and then said, 'My good woman, you are strong and healthy just now, but strong and weel as ye are, that can sune be altered, and big as ye are in yer way, the hearse is no' bigget that will tak' ye to the kirkyaird, and a dung-cairt will ha'e to ser' ye.' In less than a year the gude-wife died, and the hearse broke down at the road-end leading to the farm, and could come no further, and as a matter of fact a farm-cart had to be employed to carry the corpse to the churchyard."(8) The influence of the "evil eye" has been somewhat crudely recorded in verse under the heading of "Galloway Traditions: The Blink o' an Ill E'e," in the _Galloway Register_ for 1832, an almost forgotten periodical published at Stranraer. It is here set forth, as it minutely expresses and brings out, though in homely fashion, how belief in witchcraft and its powers was intimately bound up with the every-day conditions of the life of the times:-- "He thrave for a while, And a prettier bairn was'na seen in a mile; Lang ere Beltane, however, he was sairly backgane And shilped to naething but mere skin and bane. The mither grieved sair--thought her Sandy wad die-- Folk a' said he had got a blink o' an ill e'e, And the health o' the baby wad bravely in time turn If he had the blessing o' auld Luckie Lymeburn. Now the mither min'd weel, that on ae Friday morn Auld Luckie gaed past, but nae word did she say, And the bairn had soon after begun to decay. Ane an' a' then agreed that the child wadna mend, or Do one mair guid till auld Luckie they'd send for; Luckie Lymeburn is sent for, and soon there appears A haggart wee grannnum sair bent down in years, Whase e'en, wild demeanour, every appearance was sic, That you'd easily hae guess'd that she dealt wi' Auld Nick. Auld Luckie had lang kept the country in dread-- Nae bairn was unweil, nor beast suddenly dead, Nae time had the horses stood up in the plough, Nor when drying the malt had the kiln tain alow, Nae roof o' a byre fa'en down in the night, Nor storm at the fishing, the boatmen affright, But 'twas aye Luckie Lymeburn that bare a' the blame o't, While Luckie took pride and rejoiced at the name o't. Thro' dread that her glamour might harm o' their gear, O' ought in the house they aye ga'e her a share, And ilk dame through the land was in terror o' Luckie, From the point of Kirkcolm to her ain Carrick-mickie. Ere Sandy is mentioned the mither takes care To sooth the auld dame and to speak her right fair; Anon, then, she tells how her boy's lang been ill, And a' the folk say she's a hantle o' skill-- Begs she'll look at the bairn and see what's the matter, And when neist at the mill she winna forget her. Auld Granny saw well thro' the mither's contrivance, So she looks on the bairn and wishes him thrivance-- Says he'll soon come about and be healthy and gay, If dipt at the Co'[1] the first Sunday o' May. The boy's health came round, as auld Luckie had said, But ere Sandy came round Luckie Lymeburn was dead. The laws against witches were now very stric', And Luckie's accused that she dealt wi' Auld Nick-- That lately a storm she had raised on the coast, In which many braw fishing boats had been lost; Last winter that she and her conjuring ban' Had smoor'd a' the sheep on the fells o' Dunman But chief, that in concert wi' Luckie Agnew, She had sunk, off the Mull, a fine ship with her crew. The ship had been bound for Hibernia's main, And smoothly was gliding o'er the watery plain With the wind in her rear, when a furious blast, While off the Mull head, sudden rose from the west, And lays to the breeze the gallant ship's side, And round and round whirls her in th' eddy o' th' tide. Meantime the old hags, on the hill, are in view, And boiling their caldron, or winding their clue, New charms still they try, but they try them in vain: The seamen still strove, nor their purpose could gain, The waves are still threat'ning the ship to o'erwhelm; The crew, one by one, have relinquished the helm. Long, long the crew labour'd the vessel to stay, Nor rudder nor sail would the vessel obey, When forth steps a tar, a regardless old sinner, And swore he'd her steer though the devil were in her; When instant the weird-woman's spells take effect, She sinks 'mang the rocks, and soon's floating a wreck-- For these, and some deeds of a similar kind Were Luckies Agnew and Lymeburn arraigned. Their trial comes on--full confession they make-- In the auld burgh o' Wigton they're burnt at the stake." The metamorphosis to brute-form on the part of the witch or warlock is one of the most persistent traditions concerning witchcraft. In the south-west country the favourite animal-form selected was that of the hare, very probably on account of its fleetness of foot. Of this the following are examples:-- "A young man from Kirkmaiden found work at a distance, and as means of travel were not so convenient as now, it was a number of years before he found opportunity to visit his native parish. At the end of some years he returned, however, about New-Year time, and taking down a gun that was in his mother's house, remarked that he would go out to the Inshanks Moor and see if he could get a hare for the dinner on New-Year's Day. His mother told him to be careful he was not caught poaching. He had not been long in the moor when a hare got up, at which he shot repeatedly, but apparently without effect. At last he came to the conclusion that the hare was one of the numerous Kirkmaiden witches, and thought he would try the effect of silver. The hare had observed him, and at once inquired if he would shoot his own mother? Much startled, he desisted and went home, took to his bed, and did not rise for five years, though he could take his food well enough, and apparently was in good enough health. He had no power to rise until his mother died, when his strength being most wonderfully restored, he left his bed, dressed himself and attended the funeral."(9) Another reputed witch lived near the Church of Kirkmaiden, and it is told by a woman of the neighbourhood how her grandmother lived beside her, and having occasion to go to the well in the gloaming one evening something gave a sound, not unlike the noise one makes when clapping mud with a spade, and immediately a hare hopped past her on the road, and went over the dyke into the garden. When she went round the end of the house her neighbour was climbing over the dyke, and the old woman firmly believed it was the witch she saw the moment before in the form of a hare, which had returned to human shape just before she saw her again. In connection with the phenomenon of transformation to brute-form an interesting point must be accentuated, and that is that an animal bewitched or about to be sacrificed by witchcraft was believed by some subtle power to gain and absorb to itself some considerable part of the spirit or entity of the witch or warlock working the spell, which not uncommonly led to detection of the spell-worker. An example of this may also be quoted:-- "A farmer of Galloway, coming to a new farm with a fine and healthy stock, saw them die away one by one at stall and at stake. His last one was lying sprawling almost in death, when a fellow-farmer got him to consider his stock as bewitched and attempt its relief accordingly. He placed a pile of dried wood round his cow, setting it on fire. The flame began to catch hold of the victim, and its outer parts to consume, when a man, reputed to be a warlock, came flying over the fields, yelling horribly and loudly, conjuring the farmer to slake the fire. 'Kep skaith wha brings't,' exclaimed the farmer, heaping on more fuel. He tore his clothes in distraction, for his body was beginning to fry with the burning of his spirit. The farmer, unwilling to drive even the devil to despair, made him swear peace to all that was or should be his, and then unloosed his imprisoned spirit by quenching the fire."(10) The counterpart of magical migration through the air has also its examples, for within the memory of people still living there was an old woman lived at Logan Mill, who whenever she had a mind to travel, got astride of the nearest dyke, and was at once conveyed to wherever she wished. At least it was said so. Another reputed witch who dwelt in the neighbourhood of Port Logan was much troubled with shortness of breath, and was easily tired. When she found herself in this condition of exhaustion away from her home she was credited with entering the nearest field where horses and cattle were grazing, and mounting one, to "ride post" straight for home. The following elegy, which has been preserved in the collection of poems known as the _Nithsdale Minstrel_, fully illustrates the dread in which the Kirkmaiden witches were held, and more particularly the relief experienced when death removed the baneful influence of "Meg Elson," a witch of much repute:-- MEG ELSON'S ELEGY. "Kirkmaiden dames may crously craw And cock their nose fu' canty, For Maggy Elson's now awa', That lately bragged sae vaunty That she could kill each cow an' ca', An' make their milk fu' scanty-- Since Death's gi'en Maggy's neck a thraw, They'll a' hae butter plenty, In lumps each day. Ye fishermen, a' roun' the shore, Huzza wi' might and mettle, Nae mair ye'll furnish frae your store A cod for Maggy's kettle-- Nae mair ye'll fear the clouds that lour, Nor storms that roun' you rattle, Lest, conjured up by cantrip power, They coup you wi' a brattle I' the sea some day. Ye ewes that bleat the knowes out o'er, Ye kye that roam the valley, Nae dread of Maggy's magic glower Need henceforth mair assail ye: Nae horse nor mare, by Circean power, Shall now turn up its belly, For Death has lock'd Meg's prison door, And gi'en the keys to Kelly To keep this day." Passing to the Machars of Galloway, a curious witch-story comes from Whithorn corresponding to and somewhat similar in trend to the first acts in the dramatic happenings of "Tam o' Shanter," and the story already told of Dalry Kirk:-- "Long ago there lived in Whithorn a tailor who was an elder of the Church, and who used to 'whip the cat,' that is, go to the country to ply his trade. Being once engaged at a farm-house, the farmer told him to bring his wife with him and spend an afternoon at the farm. The invitation was accepted, and on returning at night, the attention of the knight of the needle and his better-half was attracted to an old kiln, situated at the low end of the 'Rotten Row,' from which rays of light were emanating. This surprised the worthy couple, all the more as the old kiln had for long been in a state of disuse. Their curiosity being thus awakened, they approached to look through the chinks of the door, when to their astonishment they beheld a sight somewhat similar to that seen by 'Tam o' Shanter' at 'Alloway's Auld Haunted Kirk.' Among the _dramatis personæ_ who should they recognise but the minister's wife, whom they both knew well. She, along with a bevy of withered hags, was engaged in cantrips, being distinguished by a peculiar kind of garter which she wore. Next Sabbath the tailor elder demanded a meeting of the Kirk-Session; but the minister declared that the story was a monstrosity, as his wife had not been out of bed that night. Not being easily repressed, however, the tailor requested that the minister's wife should be brought then and there before the Session. When she appeared it was found that she had on the identical garters she had worn on the night when she was seen by the triumphant tailor. This startling and overwhelming corroboration of the truth of the 'fama' quite nonplussed the minister, and as the story has it, before the next Sunday he and his lady were 'owre the Borders an' awa'.'"(11) A Dalry story may now be quoted which is specially concerned with the actual evil workings of his Satanic Majesty himself:-- "The Rev. Mr Boyd, who was appointed minister of Dalry in 1690, after his return from Holland, whither he had fled during the persecution, and who died in 1741 in his 83rd year, had a daughter to whom the devil took a fancy. He once came to the manse in the form of a bumble-bee, but was driven away by a chance pious exclamation. Another time he arrived in the form of a handsome young gentleman, fascinated the damsel, induced her to play cards with him on a Sunday, and bore her off on a black horse. Fortunately the minister saw the occurrence, and also a cloven hoof hanging at the stirrup, and shouted to his daughter to come back for Christ's sake, and the devil let her drop to the ground nothing the worse."(12) In connection with the parish of Kells it may be noted that a member of the old baronial family of Shaws of Craigenbay and Craigend, Sir Chesney Shaw, is reputed to have been strangled by a witch in the guise of a black cat. The deed took place in the Tower of Craigend. [Illustration: THE CARLIN'S CAIRN. (By J. Copland.)] A prominent land-mark in this Dalry and Carsphairn district is the "Carlin's Cairn," which, from its name, might be taken to have some special link with the witchcraft of the district. It has however, a more patriotic origin, which is set forth in Barbour's _Unique Traditions_:-- "This cairn is perched on the summit of the Kells Rhynns, and may be discerned at 15 miles distance to the south. Some say it was thrown together to commemorate the burning of a witch, others, that it was erected on the spot where an old female Covenanter was murdered by Grierson of Lag, and this last tradition stands somewhat countenanced by the well-known facts that Grierson was laird of Garryhorn and other lands in the neighbourhood of this ancient cairn, and that his party pursued and slaughtered some staunch Presbyterians in the environs of Loch Doon. Yet the foundation of the cairn can boast of a much older date than the persecutions under Charles the Second, for it was collected by the venerable old woman who at once was the protectress and hostess of King Robert the Bruce, ... and from the circumstances of the cairn being collected under the auspices of a woman, that cairn immediately bore, and for 500 years hath continued to bear the name of 'Carlin's Cairn.'" Other place-names associated with witchcraft are the "Witch Rocks of Portpatrick," where tradition tells that on these characteristic-looking pinnacles, the witches in their midnight flight rested for a little while, ere winging their further flight to Ireland. In the neighbouring parish of Stoneykirk there occurs Barnamon (_Barr-nam-ban_) and Cairnmon (_Cairn-nam-ban_) which, being interpreted, may read--"the gap, or round hill, of the witches." The following well-recounted witch narrative was communicated to the Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society to illustrate a point of superstitious custom. It has here a wider mission in accentuating bewitchment in angry retaliation, evil incantation overpowered by holy influence, and the breaking of witch-power by "_scoring_ above the breath.":-- "In the olden time, when Galloway was stocked with the black breed of cattle, there was a carle who had a score of cows, not one of which had a white hair on it; they were the pride of the owner, and the admiration of all who saw them. One day while they were being driven out, the carle's dog worried the cat of an old woman who lived in a hut hard by, and though he had always treated her with great kindness, and expressed sorrow for what his dog had done, she cursed him and all his belongings. Afterwards, when the cows began to calve, instead of giving fine rich milk, as formerly, they only gave a thin watery ooze on which the calves dwined away to skin and bone. During this unfortunate state of affairs a pilgrim on his journey, probably to the shrine of St. Ninian, sought lodgings for the night. The wife of the carle, though rather unwilling to take in a stranger during the absence of her husband, who was on a journey, eventually granted his request. On her making excuse for the poverty of the milk she offered, when he tasted it he said the cows were bewitched, and for her kindness he would tell her what would break the spell, which was to put some 'cowsherne' into the mouths of the calves before they were allowed to suck. As the carle approached his house, when returning from his journey, he noticed a bright light in the hut of the old hag which had cursed him. Curiosity induced him to look in, when he saw a pot on the fire, into which she was stirring something and muttering incantations all the while till it boiled, when, instead of milk as she doubtless expected, nothing came up but 'cowsherne.' He told his wife what he had seen, and she told him what the pilgrim had told her to do, and which she had done, which left no doubt that it was the ungrateful old witch who had bewitched their cows. Next day, when she was expecting her usual dole, the carle's wife caught hold of her before she had time to cast any cantrip, and scored her above the breath until she drew blood, with a crooked nail from a worn horse-shoe, which left her powerless to cast any further spells. The cows now gave as rich a yield of milk as formerly, and the custom then began, of putting 'cowsherne' into the mouths of newly born calves, was continued long after witchcraft had ceased to be a power in the land."(13) [Illustration: A WITCH-BREW AND INCANTATION. Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan. "Toil and trouble, Fire burn; and caldron bubble."--MACBETH.] The following four examples of "witch narrative" are gathered from the southern district of Kirkcudbrightshire:-- "Many years ago there lived near Whinnieliggate, on a somewhat lonely part of the road which leads from Kirkcudbright to Dumfries, an old woman with the reputation of being a witch. She was feared to such an extent that her neighbours kept her meal-chest full, and furnished her with food, clothes, and all she required. An old residenter in Kelton Hill or Rhonehouse, now passed away, remembered her well, and has left a very minute description of her appearance. He told how she was of small spare build, wizened of figure and face, squinted outward with one eye, the eyes themselves being small, but of peculiar whitish green colour, her nose hooked and drooping over very ugly teeth. She swathed her straggling grey locks in a black napkin or handkerchief, wore grey drugget, and a saffron-tinted shawl with spots of black and green darned into the semblance of frogs, toads, spiders, and jackdaws, with a coiled adder or snake roughly sewn round the border. Her shoes or bauchles were home-made from the untanned hides of black Galloway calves, skins not difficult for her to get. The cottage in which she lived was as quaint as herself, both inside and out. A huge bed of orpine (stone crop) grew over one of its thatched sides, the thatch being half straw and half broom; at each end grew luxuriantly long wavering broom bushes, and a barberry[2] shrub, densely covered with fruit in its season. A row of hair ropes draped the lintel of the small windows at the front of the cottage, from which was suspended the whitened skulls of hares, and ravens, rooks or corbies. The interior was also garnished with dried kail-stocks, leg and arm bones, no doubt picked up in the churchyard, all arranged in the form of a star, and over her bed-head hung a roughly drawn circle of the signs of the zodiac. She was often to be seen wandering about the fields in moonlight nights with a gnarled old blackthorn stick with a ram's horn head, and was altogether generally regarded as uncanny. The old man who thus describes her person and surroundings told of two occasions in which he suffered at her hands. He was at one time engaged with a farmer in the parish of Kelton, and one day he and a son of the farmer set out for the town of Kirkcudbright with two heavily laden carts of hay, the farmer in a jocular way calling after them as they left, 'Noo Johnie, yer cairts are a' fair and square the noo, and let's see ye reach Kirkcudbright without scathe, for ye maun mind ye hae tae pass auld Jean on the wey. Dinna ye stop aboot her door or say ocht tae her, tae offend her. Gude kens hoo she may tak' it.' Johnie was of a very sceptical nature about such characters as Jean, and replied, 'Man, Maister M'C----, dae ye ken a wudna care the crack o' a coo's thumb gin a' the wutches ooten the ill bit war on the road,' and so they set out. When passing the cottage, sure enough, the old woman appeared at the door, and, as was her wont, had to ask several questions as to where cam' they frae? and whar wur they gaun? who owned the hay and the horses? and so on. The lad, who was a bit of a 'limb,' recklessly asked her what the deil business it was of hers, and John said, 'Aye, deed faith aye, boy! that's just true. Come away.' And so they lumbered away down through the woods by the Brocklock Burn, when suddenly a hare banged across the road, right under the foremost horse's nose, crossed and recrossed several times, till both the horses became so restless and unmanageable that they backed and backed against the old hedge on the roadside, and in a few minutes both carts went over the brow into the wood, dragging the horses with them. The harness fortunately snapped in pieces, saving them from being strangled. Johnie and the boy were compelled to walk into the town for help, where they told the story of Jean's malevolence. Johnie's second adventure took place some years afterwards. On passing with a cart of potatoes to be shipped from Kirkcudbright to Liverpool by the old _Fin M'Coul_ Johnie refused to give Jean two or three potatoes for seed, with the result that his horse backed his cart right into the then almost unprotected harbour, and they were with great difficulty rescued."(14) "The parish of Twynholm in days gone by had its witch. 'Old Meg' (as the reputed witch was called by the neighbours) had for some years got her supply of butter from one of the farms quite close to the village of Twynholm, and the goodwife, to safeguard her very fine dairy of cows, always gave old Meg a small print, or pat, extra for luck. All went well until one day a merchant came to the farm seeking a large quantity of butter for the season, and offering such a good price that a bargain was at once struck. The farmer's wife was obliged to tell her small customers, Meg among the number, that she 'would not be able tae gie them ony mair butter as she had a freen in the trade who would need all she could spare, and more if she had it.' Meg was the only one to murmur at the information, and did so in no unmistakable terms. 'Aye, woman,' said she, 'y'er getting far ower prood and big tae ser' a puir bodie. Folk sood na' seek tae haud their heeds ower high ower puir folk. There's aye a doonfa' tae sic pridefu' weys.' 'Weel, Margaret,' said the farmer's wife, 'ye're no a richt-thinkin', weel-mindet buddy or ye wudna turn on me the wey yer daen efter a' my kindness tae ye; sae I wad juist be as weel pleased if ye'd pass my door and try somebody else tae gie ye mair than I hae ony guid wull tae gie ye.' Meg left in great anger, and before a week was ended three of the farmer's cows died, and one broke its leg."(15) "Away back in the days when the steampacket and railway were almost unknown along the south or Solway shore of Scotland large numbers of sailing craft plied between ports and creeks along the Scottish, Irish, and English coasts, every little port at all safe for landing being the busy scene of arrival and departure, and the discharge of cargo with almost every tide. A small group of houses usually marked these little havens, generally made up of an inn, a few fishermen's cottages, huts, and sail-lofts. On the Rerwick, or Monkland shore as it was then called, four or five of these little hamlets stood, some on the actual shore, others a short way inland. The incident which follows was founded upon the visit of three young sailors, who had for a day or two been living pretty freely, in a clachan about two miles from where their craft, a handy topsail schooner, lay at Burnfoot. On the rough moor road-side which led down from the clachan to the coast there lived in a small shieling a middle-aged woman, recognised by most of her neighbours and by seafaring men coming to these parts as an unscrupulous and rather vindictive old woman, supposed to be a witch. The three sailors had to pass this cottage on their way down to join their ship, and before setting out decided to go right past her home rather than take a round-about way to avoid her, which was at first suggested. As they came to her door she was standing watching and evidently waiting for them. 'Ye'r a fine lot you to gang away wi' a schooner,' she called to them as they came up. 'Ye had a fine time o't up by at Rab's Howff, yet nane o' ye thocht it worth yer while tae look in an see me in the bye-gaun; but 'am naebody, an' canna wheedle aboot ye like Jean o' the Howff, an' wile yer twa-three bawbees frae ooten yer pooches, an' sen' ye awa' as empty as ma meal poke.' The youngest of the three, being elated and reckless with drink, commenced to mock and taunt the old woman, his companions foolishly joining him also in jeering at her, until soon she was almost beside herself with rage. Shaking her fist at them as they passed on she pursued them with threat and invective that brought a chill of terror to their young hearts, and made them glad to find themselves at last beyond the range of her bitter tongue. The tragic sequel, coincident or otherwise, now falls to be related. Two nights later they set sail to cross to the Cumberland side of the Solway. The weather was threatening when they left, and a stiff breeze quickly developed into half a gale of wind. The schooner, which was very light, was observed to be making very bad weather of it, and to be drifting back towards the coast they had left. The gathering darkness of the night soon shut them out of sight, but early next morning the vessel lay a broken wreck on the rocky shore, and several weeks afterwards the bodies of her crew were washed ashore."(16) "In a somewhat sparsely populated district in the parish of Balmaghie there lived, with a crippled husband, a wrinkled-visaged old woman who was reckoned by all who lived near her as an uncanny character. She dwelt in a small thatched cottage well away from the public road, and had attached to her cottage a small croft or patch, half of which was used as a garden, the remainder as a gang for pigs and poultry. Not far from where she lived abounded long strips of meadow land, liable to be in wet seasons submerged by the backwaters of the Dee. About a mile from the cottage was a farm where a number of cows were kept, the farmer usually disposing of the butter made up every week to small shopkeepers, and in the villages near by. He was always very chary about passing the old woman's cottage with his basket of butter and eggs, feeling sure of a bad market should she chance to get a glimpse at the contents of the basket. Moreover, he would gladly have dispensed with the peace-offering he was obliged to make in the form of a pound of butter or a dozen or so of eggs, which was considered a sure safeguard. To avoid her he had taken a new route, crossing a ford higher up the water and going over a hill to another village, where he would have little chance of coming in contact with her. One day however, he found that his plan was discovered, and that to persist in it would be to court disaster. Crossing the moor he observed the old woman busily gathering birns[3] and small whin roots. She was undoubtedly watching and waiting for him, and was the first to speak. 'Aye, aye, man; ye maun reckon me gey blin' no' tae see ye stavering oot o' the gate among moss holes tae get ooten my wey. Ye hae wat yer cloots monie a mornin' tae keep awa' frae my hoose, and for nae ither guid reason than tae save twa or three eggs or a morsel o' butter that ony weel-minded neebor wud at ony time gie an auld donnert cripple tae feed and shelter. Losh, man, but ye hae a puir, mean speerit. Yer auld faither wudna hae din ony sic thing, an' mony a soup o' tea a hae geen 'im when he used to ca' in on his hame-gaun frae the toon gey weel the waur o' a dram.' Annoyed at being challenged the farmer was not quite in a mood to laugh the matter off, and accordingly he, with some degree of temper, told the old woman to go to a place where neither birns nor whin roots were needed for kindling purposes. About a mile further over the moor he met a neighbour's boy hurrying along, making for his farm to ask him to come over to help his master to pull a cow out of a hole in the peat-moss. He at once went, asking the lad to carry one of his baskets to enable them to get along faster. They left the two baskets at the end of a haystack near the muir farm, and crossed over to the moss where they could see the farmer and his wife doing their utmost to keep the cow's head above the mire. Additional strength of arm however, soon brought the cow out of her dangerous position, and they retired for a little to the farm-house for a dram. 'Dod,' said the owner of the baskets, 'I houp nae hairm has come the butter an' eggs. I left them ower-by at the end o' the hey-stack yonner.' 'O, they'll be a' richt,' said the farmer's wife; 'but Johnie 'll gang ower and bring them, sae sit still 'til he fetches them.' Johnie went as told, and came back with the tidings that 'the auld soo had eaten nearly all the butter an' broken maist o' the eggs, had pit her feet thro' the bottom o' the butter-skep, and made a deil o' a haun o' everything.' 'Aye, aye,' quoth the farmer; 'juist what I micht hae expeckit efter the look I got frae that auld deevel in woman's shape doonbye.' His neighbour was silent and seemed strangely put out, and when at last he found speech it was to say, 'Man Sanny, she's du'n baith o' us! Dae ye ken I refused her a pig juist last week, an' that accoonts for "crummie" in the moss-hole.'"(17) A story which illustrates how witch-power was not always an influence for evil is recounted in the folk-lore of Tynron:-- "An old farmer who died some years ago in Tynron related his experience with a witch in Closeburn when he was a boy. He was carting freestone from a neighbouring quarry, when his horse came to a standstill at the witch's door. Two other carters passed him, and only jeered both at the witch and the boy, when the former, to whom he had always been civil, came forward, and with a slight push adjusted the ponderous stone, which had slipped and was stopping the wheel. 'Now, go,' she said; 'thou wilt find them at the gate below Gilchristland.' At that very spot he found the perplexed carters standing, both horses trembling and sweating, so that he easily went past them and got to his goal first."(18) No reference to witchcraft in the south-west of Scotland would be complete without some reference to the witches of Crawick Mill, near Sanquhar. The following allusion is drawn from a recently published work on the folk-lore of Upper Nithsdale, and in it will be observed how the witch phenomenon of change into the form of a hare, and being shot at in that form, again repeats itself:-- "The village of Crawick Mill, near Sanquhar, was a noted place for witches, and appears to have been a sort of headquarters for the sisterhood. Their doings and ongoings have been talked of far and near, and many a tale is told of revels at the 'Witches' Stairs'--a huge rock among the picturesque linns of Crawick, where, in company of other kindred spirits gathered from all parts of the country, they planned their deeds of evil, and cast their cantrips to the hurt of those who had come under their displeasure. In many different ways were these inflicted. Sometimes the farmer's best cow would lose its milk; a mare would miss foal; or the churn would be spellbound, and the dairymaid might churn and churn, and churn again, but no butter would come. No class of people was safe. The malignant power of the witches reached all classes of society; and even the minister's churn on one occasion would yield no butter. Everything had been tried without effect. The manse of Sanquhar at that time was situated close to the river on the site now occupied by the farm-house of Blackaddie, and the good man told the servant girl to carry the churn to the other side of the Nith, thinking that the crossing of a running stream would break the spell. But it was to no purpose; neither was the rowan tree branch that was fixed in the byre, nor the horse-shoe nailed behind the door. The power of the witch was too strong for the minister; but his wife was more successful. She made up a nice roll of butter, part of a former churning, and, with a pitcher of milk, sent it as a present to the beldam at Crawick Mill, who was thought to have wrought the mischief. The gift was thankfully received, and the churn did well ever after. "Robert Stitt, honest man, was the miller at Crawick Mill, and well respected by everybody. One day, however, he refused one of the Crawick witches a peck of meal; she was enraged at the refusal, and told him 'he would rue that ere mony days passed.' About a week afterwards, on a dark night, Crawick was rolling in full flood. The miller went to put down the sluice, missed his footing, fell into the water, and was carried off by the torrent and drowned. A young man going a journey started early in the morning, and, shortly after he set out, met one of the witches, when some words passed between them. She said to him, 'Ye're gaun briskly awa', my lad, but ye'll come ridin' hame the nicht.' The poor fellow got his leg broken that day, and was brought home in a cart as the witch predicted. An old woman named Nannie is said to have been the last of the uncanny crew that dwelt on the banks of the Crawick. She appears to have been a person superior in intelligence and forethought to her neighbours. She knew that she was considered a witch, and she rather encouraged the idea; it kept her neighbours in awe, and also helped her to get a living--many a present she got from the ignorant and superstitious to secure themselves from her spells."(19) "One of the most famous witches of tradition belonging to Corrie (Dumfriesshire) was the witch-wife of the Wyliehole, whose strange exploits and infernal doings were the subject of many a winter evening's conversation around the farmer's hearth. "She was represented as having been terribly implacable in her resentments, and those who fell under her displeasure were certain to feel all the severity of her revenge. She pursued them incessantly with strange accidents and misfortunes, sometimes with nocturnal visits in the form of fierce wild cats and weasels, and not only disturbed their repose but kept them in constant terror of their lives. She seems also to have been somewhat peculiar in her movements, as she was seen, on one occasion, on the top of Burnswark crags switching lint by moonlight."(20) It may now be well to dwell for a little on the popular measures resorted to, to counteract witch influence and render it futile. Relief and protection were sought in various ways. Charm and popular antidote had an abiding place in the domestic usage of the day, and faith, if wedded to empirical methods, was at all events all-prevailing. The mountain ash or rowan tree was believed to have a strong counter influence against unholy rite, and a very usual custom was to plait a branch and fasten it above the byre door to ensure the protection of their cows. Young women wore strings of rowan berries as beads on a string of the same colour, implicitly believing "Rowan tree and red threid, Put the witches to their speed"-- and Robert Heron, in his _Journey through the Western Counties of Scotland_ (1792), further illustrates this point of superstitious observance by reference to an acquaintance:--"An anti-burgher clergyman in these parts, who actually procured from a person who pretended to skill in these charms, two small pieces of wood, curiously wrought, to be kept in his father's cow-house as a security for the health of his cows. It is common (he adds) to bend into a cow's tail a small piece of mountain ash-wood as a charm against witchcraft." Inside the cottage the rowan bunch was suspended from the top of the corner-cupboard or box-bed. Salt was supposed to possess a strong power of evil resistance in various ways, not least in the operation of "churning," a handful being added to the cream before even commencing. To this day old horse-shoes are nailed over stable and byre doors "for luck," a vague application of what in the older days was specific belief in their potency as a charm against witch-mischief. Stones with holes through them naturally perforated by the action of the water, popularly called "elf-cups," were also considered to possess protective power and were commonly nailed over the stable door. It was further quite usual, when passing the hut of any old woman whom people eyed askance, to put the thumb upon the palm of the hand and close the fingers over it--a relic of the sign of the cross--to avert the evil eye. A clear stone, called an "adder-bead" (supposed to be made in some mysterious way by the co-operation of thirteen adders), a robin's breast, and a fox's tongue, were other favoured charms. The witches and warlocks themselves were supposed to wear a protective, jacket-like garment, which had, at a certain mystic time of a March moon, been woven from the skins of water-snakes. These were popularly known as "warlock feckets." Silver alone could pierce such garments and seems to have possessed properties entirely opposed to the invincibility of these disciples of Satan. Nothing could turn or stop a silver bullet which not only destroyed the illusion and restored the guise which had been assumed, to the original witch-form, but even inflicted bodily pain and wound. "An old woman, still alive, tells how her father was going to Drummore on one occasion by the road past Terally (Kirkmaiden), and saw a man a short distance in front of him carrying a gun. A hare jumped over the dyke on to the road in front of the man with the gun, who at once shot at it, but apparently missed. He fired four more shots at it, but the hare only jumped on the road as if making sport of them. Before he fired the next shot however, he slipped a threepenny piece into the gun, and that had effect. The hare limped into a whin bush near by, and when the two men went to look for it they found a reputed witch lying with a broken leg." An oft-practised rite in connection with the supposed bewitchment of a cow, and its failure to yield milk, was as follows:-- "A young maiden milked whatever dregs of milk the cow had left, which was of a sanguineous nature and poisonous quality. This was poured warm from the cow into a brass pan, and, every inlet to the house being closed, was placed over a gentle fire until it began to heat. Pins were dropped in and closely stirred with a wand of rowan; when boiling, rusty nails were thrown in and more fuel added."(21) The witch or warlock who had wrought the mischief were in some subtle way affected, and suffered pain so long as the distillation of the charm was continued; and the further point is brought out that the potency of the charm could even drag the perpetrators of the evil to the scene of their witch-work. There is a hitherto unrecorded story bearing on this point:-- "Andrew M'Murray, farmer in Mountsallie, in the Rhinns of Galloway at one time, one morning found one of his cows very ill. In the middle of the uneasiness about the condition of the cow a tailor 'whup-the-cat' arrived at the farm-house to do some sewing, and among the others, went out to look at the cow. He at once said the cow was witched, and told them of a way to find out the person who had done so. They got the cow to her feet, and took whatever milk she had from her, and put it in a pot with a number of pins in it, and set it on the fire to boil, with a green turf on the top of the lid. When the pot began to boil dry, a near neighbour, who was a reputed witch, arrived, apparently in a state of great pain, and excitedly asked to see the cow. Immediately the cow saw her it jumped to its feet, broke its binding, ran out of the byre, and did not stop till it was at the top of Tordoo, a round hill in the neighbourhood."(22) The Dalry district, as already seen, is comparatively rich in uncannie reminiscence, one of which also accentuates this particular point:-- "The cow of a Dalry crofter became nearly yell quite unexpectedly. A neighbour said she would soon find out the reason. She boiled a quantity of needles and pins in some milk drippings from the cow, when an old woman who was reputed to be a witch knocked at the window and begged her to give over boiling as she was pricked all over, and if they did so the cow would soon be all right, which accordingly happened."(23) Two "cantrip incantations" concerned with love-making, strung together in rhyme, have been handed down:-- "In the pingle or the pan, Or the haurpan o' man, Boil the heart's-bluid o' the tade, Wi' the tallow o' the gled; Hawcket kail an' hen-dirt, Chow'd cheese an chicken-wort, Yallow puddocks champit sma', Spiders ten, and gellocks twa, Sclaters twa, frae foggy dykes, Bumbees twunty, frae their bykes, Asks frae stinking lochens blue, Ay, will make a better stue; Bachelors maun hae a charm, Hearts they hae fu' o' harm." The second, while of much the same character, has evidently more special reference to the weaker sex:-- "Yirbs for the blinking queen, Seeth now, when it is e'en, Boortree branches, yellow gowans, Berry rasps and berry rowans; Deil's milk frae thrissles saft, Clover blades frae aff the craft; Binwud leaves and blinmen's baws, Heather bells and wither'd haws; Something sweet, something sour, Time about wi' mild and door; Hinnie-suckles, bluidy-fingers, Napple roots and nettle stingers, Bags o' bees and gall in bladders, Gowks' spittles, pizion adders: May dew and fumarts' tears, Nool shearings, nowt's neers, Mix, mix, six and six, And the auld maid's cantrip fix."(24) In Allan Ramsay's pastoral play of the _Gentle Shepherd_ a vivid word-painting occurs of the popular estimation of the witch methods and witch beliefs of the times. The passage occurs where "Bauldy," love-stricken and despairing, goes to seek the aid of "Mause," an old woman supposed to be a witch:-- "'Tis sair to thole; I'll try some witchcraft art. * * * * * Here Mausey lives, a witch that for sma' price Can cast her cantraips, and gie me advice, She can o'ercast the night and cloud the moon, And mak the deils obedient to her crune; At midnight hours, o'er the kirkyard she raves, And howks unchristen'd weans out of their graves; Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow, Rins withershins about the hemlock low; And seven times does her prayers backwards pray, Till Plotcock comes with lumps of Lapland clay, Mixt with the venom of black taids and snakes; Of this unsonsy pictures aft she makes Of ony ane she hates, and gars expire, With slow and racking pains afore a fire, Stuck fu' of pins; the devilish pictures melt; The pain by fowk they represent is felt." An old form of incantation extracted from a witch confession in 1662[4] refers to the form of witchcraft just alluded to in the _Gentle Shepherd_--the modelling in clay of the object of resentment and the piercing and maiming of such effigies to compass corresponding bodily harm. In this instance, wasting illness was intended to be induced by subjecting the diminutive clay figure to roasting over a fire:-- "In the Divellis nam, we powr in this water amang this mowld (meall) For long duyning[5] and ill heall; We putt it into the fyre, That it may be brunt both stick and stowre, It salbe[6] brunt with owr will As any sticle[7] upon a kill.[8]" A further forceful illustration of this particular form of spell-casting may be quoted from the confession of a reputed witch, "Janet Breadheid," who was brought before the Sheriff-Principal of Elgin and Forres in 1662. It is here referred to as the family against whom the evil was directed was that of "Hay of Park," an evident off-shoot of a main stem of the Hays--the Hays of Errol (Perthshire)--a family represented in the south-west of Scotland by the Hays of Park, who inherited part of the lands of the Abbey of Glenluce immediately after the Reformation. The old family seat, now tenanted by farm servants, is generally described as the "Old House of Park." The following is the quotation:--"My husband brought hom the clay in his plaid (newk). It ves maid in my hows; and the Divell himself with ws. We brak the clay werie small, lyk meil, (and) sifted it with a siew, and powred in vater amongst it, with wordis that the Divell leardned vs (in the Di.) Vellis nam. I brought hom the water, in a pig, out of the Rud-wall. We were all upon owr (kneyes) and our hair about owr eyes, and owr handis liftet up to the Divell, and owr eyes stedfast looking (upon him) praying and saying wordis which he learned ws, thryse ower, for destroyeing of this Lairdis (meall) children, and to mak his hows airles. It was werie sore wrought, lyk rye-bowt. It was about the bignes of a feadge or pow. It was just maid lyk the bairn; it vanted no mark of any maill child, such as heid, face, eyes, nose, mowth lippes, etc., and the handis of it folded downe by its sydis. It ves putt to the fyre, first till it scrunked, and then a cleir fyre about it, till it ves hard. And then we took out of the fyre, in the Divell's nam; and we laid a clowt about it and did lay (it) on a knag, and sometimes under a chist. Each day we would water, and then rost and bek it; and turn it at the fyre, each other day, whill that bairne died; and then layed it up, and steired it not untill the nixt bairne wes borne; And then, within half an year efter that bairne was born, (we) took it out again out of the cradle and clowt, and would dip it now and than among water, and beck (it) and rost it at the fyre, each other day once, as ve did against the other that was dead, untill that bairn (died) also."(25) The following is an example of a "Devil's Grace":-- "We eat this meat in the Divellis nam, With sorrow, and sych,[9] and meikle shame, We sall destroy hows and hald; Both sheip and noat in till the fald. Little good sall come to the fore Of all the rest of the little store." The following extract from a rare and fascinating work, _The Book of Galloway_ (1745), possesses two points of much interest. It includes the prophetic utterings of a witch called Meg Macmuldroch at the "cannie moment" when Sir William Douglas of Gelston, whose name is so intimately associated with the creation and development of the town of Castle-Douglas, was born:-- "And anon as she came to the burden of her prophecy, pointing her quivering fingers to the sky, and repeating the following words with much emphasis:--'I looked at the starnies and they were in the right airt. It was full tide, and bein' lown and in the deid howe o' nicht, in Sandy Black's fey, I heard the sough o' the sea and the o'erswak o' the waves as they broke their bellies on the sawns o' Wigtown. There was a scaum i' the lift; the young mune was in the auld mune's arms, that was bad and guid--bad for the father, guid for the son; and as sure as the de'ils in the King's croft o' Stocking,[10] here's my benison and malison, mak' o't what ye wull. 'Grief and scaith, the faither to his death; Thrift and thrive to the bairn alive.'" The second point contained is the practical application and mention of several witchcraft and old-world expressions, some of which have just been referred to in dealing with the counteraction of witch-force:-- "'Greater pity,' said the minister abruptly, 'that the penalties against witchcraft are now done away with' ... She has already cast her glamour of the evil eye on this man. His very horse has been hag-ridden overnight, and in the mornin', sair forfochten wi' nocturnal sweats, and the "adder-stane" winna bring remeid. His cow was weel fed, for ye ken 'the cow gives her milk by the mou', but the crone has milked the tether,' and his twa stirks are stannin' slaverin' at baith mouth and een, and its neither side-ill, quarter-ill, tail-ill, muir-ill, or water-ill, and its no the rinnin' doun, the black spauld, or the warbles, but a clear case of elf-shot, though a piece of rowan has been tied to their tails.... John went first to Shennaton on the water o' Bladnoch, bad land at the best, for it girns a' summer and greets a' winter. There he couldna leeve, so his 'fire was slockened,' and here he's half deid, an' a' through the witches."(26) In concluding this chapter further notice may be taken of the quite common practice in those days, of the fears of the country-side being traded upon by cunning old women supposed to possess, or pretending to possess, witch-power. In wholesome dread of the malign influence of the "uncannie e'en" these old women were propitiated by lavish presents of produce and provender, and so skillfully did many of them play their parts that they lived comfortably and bien at the expense of their neighbours, who were only too glad to send new milk, cheese, meal, and even to cast their peats and help with the rents to make "the e'en look kindly" and avert possible disaster, all of which is graphically alluded to and set forth in Allan Cunningham's "Pawky Auld Kimmer":-- "There's a pawky auld Kimmer wons low i' the glen; Nane kens how auld Kimmer maun fecht and maun fen; Kimmer gets maut, and Kimmer gets meal, And cantie lives Kimmer, richt couthie an' hale; Kimmer gets bread, and Kimmer gets cheese, An' Kimmer's uncannie e'en keep her at ease. 'I rede ye speak lowne, lest Kimmer should hear ye; Come sain ye, come cross ye, an' Gude be near ye!'" [Illustration] _CHAPTER III._ WITCHCRAFT TRIALS AND PERSECUTION. "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." --_Exodus xxii., 18._ Little is heard of witchcraft in Scotland before the latter half of the 16th century, but in the year 1563, in the reign of Mary, Queen of Scotland, a strenuous Act directed against the practice of witchcraft became law, and was most rigorously enforced. As this has been described as the law under which all the subsequent witch trials took place its significant phraseology may in part be quoted:-- "The Estates enact that nae person take upon hand to use ony matter of witchcrafts, sorcery or necromancy, nor give themselves furth to have ony sic craft or knowledge thereof; also that nae person seek ony help, response, or consultation at ony sic users or abusers of witchcraft under the pain of death." Curiously enough the passing of this and similar Acts was attended by results as unexpected as they were unforeseen. Belief in witchcraft became the passion of public credulity. Accusations, generally false and often even ludicrous in their solemn foolishness, were trumped up, and action followed, that hurried countless helpless human beings to the stake to die a cruel and shameful death. It was a time of terror, an epoch of superstitious sacrifice, extending and gathering force as the reign of Mary merged into the Regency, only finding pause at the removal of James VI. of Scotland to London, there to preside over the united destinies of these islands. As is well known, this monarch evinced a more than personal interest in matters pertaining to the "unseen world," and that, gathering up his ideas and conclusions, he embodied them in a singular treatise entitled _Daemonologie_.[11] Less creditable to his memory it is told that not only did he favour executions for this alleged crime, but actually took pleasure in witnessing the sacrifice of the condemned. With the death of James a phase of quiescence in witch quest and sacrifice is entered upon, a lull which lasted for some fifteen years. It was again, however, to be broken, this time by the unfortunate intervention and misdirected zeal of the Church itself. The General Assembly, stimulated by a desire for Puritanical perfection, awakened the slumbering crudity of belief, that direct Satanic Power stalked abroad in the land in the form of witchcraft. Condemnatory Acts were passed in the years 1640-43-44-45 and 49. Again the stake and tar faggot blazed. The Levitical law was accepted as a too literal injunction, and from this time forward it is the clergy who particularly figure as the pursuers of witches, keen and relentless to a degree; and yet with it all, however misguided the efforts of these Churchmen, however cruel their methods, it is only just to their memories to believe in their purity of motive, and to give them all credit for pious and earnest desire to combat and stamp out what to them was in very truth a great evil. Different methods were adopted to establish proof and justify the cases for the accusers, but the one test specially relied upon was to find the actual presence of what has already been described as the "witch mark"[12] upon the person of the suspected. When this was found, or supposed to be found, it was the deliberate practice to pass through it a sharp needle-like instrument, and if no pain was felt or blood drawn, then guilt was held to be firmly established. [Illustration: "A RUNNING STREAM THEY DARE NA CROSS!" J. Copland.] So frequent were the accusations that the "pricking of witches" became a recognised calling: one individual, John Kincaid by name, having such a reputation for skill in this unhallowed work that he seems to have been employed in the principal witch trials of this period, such an entry as-- "Item, mair to Jon Kinked for brodding of her VI. lib. Scotts" being of quite common occurrence in the notes of expenses still on record. It is to this second or later period of persecution that the record of witch charge and punishment in the south-west of Scotland really belongs, and from 1656 the records of the civil and ecclesiastical courts teem with accounts of searching enquiry and trial. It must further be remembered that over and above the regularly constituted enquiries of State and Church a great number of Commissions were granted by the Privy Council to gentlemen in every county, and almost in every parish, to try persons accused of witchcraft, many of whom suffered the extreme penalty,[13] and of which no particulars can now be gleaned. It is now our purpose to set forth as completely as possible such relative matter and extracts from existing documents as will describe the proceedings as they actually took place in the distinctive localities of the Dumfries and Galloway district, but it may perhaps be here fittingly noted, not without a certain sense of gratification, that this south-western district, though far from blameless, compares more than favourably with other districts in Scotland, both in fairness of judgment and rigour of punishment. PROCEEDINGS IN GALLOWAY. _Presbytery of Kirkcudbright, April, 1662._--A person, named James Welsh, confessed himself guilty of the crime of witchcraft before the Presbytery of Kirkcudbright; but the justices refused to put him upon his trial, because he was a minor when he acknowledged his guilt, and had retracted his extra-judicial confession; but on the 17th of April, 1662, they ordered him to be scourged and put in the correction house, having so grossly "prevaricated and delated so many honest persons." _Kirkcudbright, 1671._--At an Assize held in the burgh of Dumfries in 1671 eight or more females were charged with witchcraft; five of them were eventually sent for trial to Kirkcudbright. _Dalry Kirk-Session, 1696._--Elspeth M'Ewen, an old woman living alone at a place called Bogha, near the farm of Cubbox, in Balmaclellan, was suspected by the country-side of various acts of "witching." In particular, she was believed to have at her command a wooden pin that was movable and that could be withdrawn from the base of the rafters resting on the walls of the cottage, which particular part of the building was in these old days called the "kipple foot." With this pin Elspeth was supposed to have the supernatural power of drawing an exhaustive milk supply from her neighbour's cows merely by placing it in contact with the udder, and this it was reported she practised freely. Other cantrips laid to her door included capricious interference with the laying power of her neighbour's hens, causing them sometimes to fail altogether, at others to produce in amazing plenteousness. At last complaint was made to the Session, and the beadle, by name M'Lambroch, was sent away with the minister's mare to bring her before the Session. On the journey there is a tradition that the mare in a panic of fright sweated great drops of blood at the rising hill near the Manse, since known as the "Bluidy Brae." After being examined she was sent to Kirkcudbright, where she lay in prison for about two years. _Dalry Kirk-Session, October 15th, 1697._--The following entry evidently refers to the expense of her maintenance in prison: "Given for alimenting Elspet M'Koun, alledged of witchcraft in prison, £01.01.00." _Kirkcudbright, 1698._--In Kirkcudbright prison Elspeth M'Ewen was so inhumanely treated that she frequently implored her tormentors to terminate a life which had become a grievous burden to her. In March, 1698, a Commission was appointed by the Privy Council for her trial, along with another woman, Mary Millar, also accused of witchcraft, "to meet and conveen at Kirkcudbright." The following is an extract from the said Commission:-- _Extract from "Commission for Judging of Elspeth M'Cowen and Mary Millar, alleadged Guilty of Witchcraft, 1698."_ "The Lords of his Majesties privie Councill, being informed that Elspeth M'Cowen and Mary Millar, both within the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, presently prisoners within the tolboth of Kirkcudbright, are alleaged guilty of the horid cryme of witchcraft, and hes committed severall malifices; and considering it will be a great deall of charges and expenses to bring the saids Elspeth M'Cowen and Mary Millar to this place, in order to a tryall before the Lords commissioners of justiciary: Besides, that severall inconveniences may aryse by there transportation. And the saids Lords lykewayes considering that this horid cryme cannot be tryed and judged by any persons in the countrie without a warrant and commission from their Lordships for that effect; And the saids Lords being desyreous to have the said matter brought to a tryall, that the persones guilty may receive condigne punishment, and others may be deterred from committing so horid a cryme in time coming; They do hereby give full power, warrant and commission, to Sir John Maxwell of Pollock,--Maxwell of Dalswintoune, Hugh M'Guffock of Rusco, Adam Newall of Barskeoche, Dunbar of Machrymore, Thomas Alexander, Stewart Depute of Kirkcudbright, Robert M'Clellend of Barmagachan, and Mr Alexander Fergussone of Isle, Advocate; And declare any three of the foresaids persones to be a sufficient quorum, the said Stewart Depute of Kirkcudbright being one of the three, To take tryall off, and to judge and do justice upon the saids Elspeth M'Cowen and Mary Millar, for the cryme of witchcraft. And in order thereto, To meitt and conveen at Kirkcudbright, the second ffryday of Apryle next to come, and there to accept for this present commission, and upon there acceptance to administrate the oath of fidelity to the person whom the Lord Justice Clerk or James Montgomery of Langshare, Clerk to the Justice Court, shall depute and substitute to be clerk to the present Commissione, With power to the saids Commissioners or their said quorum, to choyse their own Clerk for whom they shall be answerable, In caise that the saids Lords Justice Clerk and James Montgomery, shall refuse to nominate a Clerk in this matter, they being first requyred so to doe, With power lykewayes to the saids persones hereby commissionat or their said quorum, To create, make, and constitute Serjants, Dempsters, and other Members of the said court, And to Issue out and cause raise precepts or lybells of indictment at the instance of Samuell Cairnmount, writer in Kirkcudbright, as procurator fiscall for his Majesties interest in the said matter, against the saids Elspeth M'Cowen and Mary Millar, accused of Witchcraft, ffor sumonding and citeing them upon ffyfteen dayes, by delyvering to them a full copie of the lybell or indictment, with the names and designationes of the Assyzers and witnesses subjoined; And for citeing there assyzers and witnesses in the ordinary and under the usual paynes and certificationes, To compear before the saids Commissioners hereby commissionat, ... With power to the saids Commissioners or their said quorums, To decern and Adjudge them to be burned, or otherwise to be execute to death within such space and after such a manner as they shall think fit, and appoints the saids commissioners, there said quorum or Clerk, to transmit the haill process which shall be ledd before them against the said Elspeth M'Cowen and Mary Millar, and severall steps thereof and verdict of the inquest to be given thereupon to the saids Lords of his Majesties privie Councill, betwixt and the ffyfteenth day of June nixt to come."(27) On the 26th of July the committee of Privy Council reported that they had examined the proceedings of the commissioners in the case of Elspeth M'Ewen (the report signed by the Lord Advocate), who had been pronounced guilty upon her own confession and the evidence of witnesses "of a compact and correspondence with the devil, and of charms and of accession to malefices." It was ordered that the sentence of death against Elspeth should be executed under care of the Steward of Kirkcudbright and his deputies. Found guilty by her own confession, a certain means to end a miserable life, Elspeth M'Ewen suffered the extreme penalty of being burned at the stake, the execution taking place in what is now known as Silver Craigs Park, on the 24th day of August, 1698. The following extracts connected with the trial and execution are taken from some old Kirkcudbright records, which were brought to light by the late Mr James Nicholson:-- "Ane accompt of my (George Welsh) depursements as Thessr.[14] from Michaelmas, 1697, to Michaelmas, 1698, as follows-- Item for Item to Barbara Roddin for ane pound and ane half of candle yt night the Assyse sat on Elspet M'Keown 000 09 00 22 July, 1698. Item to the men that took William Kirk, by Ba. Campble's order 000 04 00 Item given to him yt day 000 03 00 Item for Satterday, Sunday and Monday yrafter 000 09 00 Item given to William Kirk of earnest by Ba. Campble's orders in money and in aill with him 00j 0j 00 Item to William Kirk for six days at three shills per day 000 18 00 4 Aut., 1698. Item to William Kirk for twenty days tyme yt he was in prison at ffour shills per day, is 004 00 00 20 Aut., 1698. Item given to the Proveist to give William Kirk to buy drink, and by his orders to buy ane leg mutton 000 ij 00 Item. Sspent by the Proveist wt Howell and Ba. Dunbar, the day of Elspet M'Keown's execution, ane gill brandie 000 04 06 Item be the Proveist's order, to William Kirk to buy meal wt. 000 10 00 Item payed in James M'Colm's yt the Proveist drank with Ba. Dunbar and oyrs the day of Elspet M'Keoun's execution 000 06 00 Item to Wm. Kirk to buy meill wt. 000 07 06 Item to Wm. Kirk to buy meill wt. 000 07 06 Item payed to Barbara Roddin for candles to Elspet M'Keoun's guard 000 17 00 Item to Mart. M'Keand for ffour Ells and three quarters Red, to William Kirk, at twenty shill Scots per Ell, is 004 15 00 Item to Helin Martin for plaiding to be hose to him 000 08 00 Item to thrid whyt and collured 000 03 00 Item for ane Bonnet to him 000 09 00 Item for harne to be pockets, and for shoen 000 17 00 Item for three ells harne to be ane shirt, and for making yrof. 001 00 00 Item for ane long gravate to him 000 12 00 24th Aut., 1698. Item given to the Proveist to give him the day of execution 002 16 00 Item for peits to burn Elspet wt. 00j 04 00 Item for twa pecks of colls 000 16 00 Item for towes, small and great 000 04 00 Item for ane tarr barle to Andrew Aitken 00j 04 00 Item to Hugh Anderson for carrying of the peits and colls 000 06 00 Item to William Kirk qn she was burning, ane pint of aill 000 02 00 Item payed to Robert Creighton, conform to precept, viz., eight shill Scots for beating the drumm at Elspet M'Queen's funerall, and to James Carsson, his wife threeteen shillings drunken by Elspet's executioner, at seall times 00j 0j 00 It would thus appear that the executioner (William Kirk) had to be kept in jail in order that he should be forthcoming at the execution. He seems to have been an old, infirm man, without relations or friends, and on 8th July, 1699, he addressed the following petition to the Provost and Magistrates:-- "To the Right Honorable my Lord Provest, Baylies, and Cownsell of the Royal Burgh of Kirkcut.--Humbly sheweth, That yor Honors patchioner is in great straits in this dear time and lik to sterv for hwnger, and whan I go to the cowntrie and foks many of them has it not and others of them that hes it say they are overburdened with poor folk that they are not able to stand before them, and they will bid me go hom to the town to maintain me and cast stanes at me. May it therefore please your honors to look upon my indigent condition and help me for the Lord sake, and yor honors pettioner shall ever pray." In answer to the above "earnest cry and prayer" there appears the following entry in the "Thessr's" account:-- "8th Jully, 1699. "The sd day the magistrates and Counsell ordains the Thessr. to give the petitioner the next week six shill Scots forby his weekly allowance." Another document, which throws a curious side-light on Elspeth M'Ewen's trial, is the sentence against one Janet Corbie, who advised Elspeth to plead not guilty. It is as follows:-- "Kirkcudbright, -- day of July, 1698. "The same day, it being most palpably and cleirly evident and made appear to ye magistrates and Consell yt. Janet Corbie, dauter of Wm. Corbie, hath been and as yet continues in a most scandlous carrige, abusing of her neybors by scandlous expressions, whereffor there hath been fformer ffines put upon her, and that she is a persoun yt leeves by pyckering and stealing as is most justly suspect yrof, and yt she hath been endevouring to harden Elspeth M'Keoun, wha is in ye laigh sellar as ane wich, in endevouring to dissuad her to confess and that people sinned ther sowl wha said she was a wich, and ffor her constant practis in abuse of ye Lord's Day emploing herselff yrin ofthymes in stealing her neybors guids such as unyuns and bowcaill and taking them to ye countrie and makin sale yr of, and sevll oyr thing yt upon just grownds could be mayd appere so yt to long she hath been suffered to resyde in this place; yrfor, and yt ye place may be troubled with such a miscrent, and scandlous person nae langer in tym coming, ye magistrates and consell out of a due sens of yr dutie and of ye justice of her sentens, ordains the said Janet Corbie to remain in prison while Munday morning neist att ten o'clock and then to be taken ffurth of the tolboth by ye officers and wt tuck of drum to be transported over the ferry bote, to be exported in all tyme coming from ye sosiety or convercacioune of all guid Christians and indwellers in ye place, and never to return yrto, prohibiting and discharging all inhabitants, qur parents, relaciouns, or any oyrs wtin ye toun's bouns, to harbor, reset, convers, commune with, or entertane the said Janet or receve her to their society or company at any place or tyme in all tyme coming, and yt under ye pain of fforty pounds Scots muney to be peyd by ilk transgressor, toties quoties to ye toun's Thessr. atower whatever oyer punishment the magistrets and consell sall think fit further to impose, and ordains thir presents to be publish at ye Mercat Cross yt non may pretend ignorans in tyme coming, and the magistrats ordane to see the sentence put in execution." _Extracts from Minute Book of the Kirk-Session of Kirkcudbright._(28) "Janet M'Robert in Milnburn is delated to the Session for Witchcraft, the signs and instances qrof (whereof) are afterwards recorded. The Session therefor recommends to the Magistrates to apprehend and incarcerate her till tryall be had of that matter." "Feb. 6, 1701. "As to Janet M'Robert in Milnburn, it is delated by Elizabeth Lauchlon, lawfull daughter to John Lauchlon yr., (there) that the sd. (said) Elizabeth went to Janet's house, when she was not within, and looking in at the door saw a wheel going about and spinning without the help of any person seen by her, and she went in and essayed to lay hold of the said wheel, but was beat back to the door and her head was hurt, though she saw nobody. And yt. (that) after she was in the said Janet's House (being at school with her) the Devil appeared to her in the likeness of a man, and did bid her deliver herself over to him, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, which she refused to do, saying she would rather give herself to God Almighty. After the Devil went away the sd. (said) Janet, who was present with her, laid bonds on her not to tell. And yr after he came a second time to her, being in Janet's house alone, in the likeness of a gentleman, and desired her to go with him, and yr after disappeared, seeming not to go out at the door. "Robert Crichton's wife farther delates, that when she was winnowing corn in Bailie Dunbar's barn, the said Janet came in to her and helped her, tho' not desired, till she had done, and desired of her some chaff for her cow. She gave her a small quantity in her apron, with which she seemed not to be satisfied, so upon the morrow thereafter, the said Robert Crichton's wife's breast swelled to a great height, which continued for about the space of five weeks, so that the young child who was then sucking decayed and vanished away to a shadow, and immediately yr after their cow took such a distemper that her milk had neither the colour nor taste that it used to have, so yt no use could be made of it, all which happened about three years ago. "It is further delated by Howell, that being one day in John Robertson's in the Milnburn, he desired to buy two hens. They said they had none, but perhaps Janet M'Robert would do it, and accordingly he asked Janet, who answered she had none to sell to him. He replied, 'you have them to eat my goodmother's bear when it is sown; but (said he), my rough lad (meaning his dog) will perhaps bring them to me.' She answered, 'your rough lad will bring none of my hens this two days;' and before that he went to the town, the dog went mad to the beholding of many. "Further, it is delated, that a friend of the said Janet's living in Rerwick, whose wife was lying on childbed, did send his daughter to Janet to borrow some money which she refused to give at the first, yet upon a second consideration she gave her two fourteens, but still assured the Lass that she would lose them. 'What,' (says the Lass) 'am I a child yet?' and for the mare security she took a purse out of her pocket in which there were no holes, and took out some turmour (turmerick) which she had in it, and did put in the two fourteens and threw the neck of her purse (as she used perhaps to do) assuring herself that she should not lose them now, and went home, and when she came there, she opened the purse to take out the two fourteens, and she had nothing. [Illustration: "A WITCH TRIAL." J. Copland.] "Further, it is delated by John M'Gympser's wife, Agnes Kirk, that the said Janet came one day there, and desired a hare's bouk (carcase) which she refused, and since that time their dog hath neither been able to run or take ane hare." "Feb. 12th, 1701. "As to Janet M'Robert, John Bodden in Milnburn delates, that at the laik wake of his child three years ago, Patrick Linton's son heard a great noise about Janet's house, so yt he was afraid to go out at the door, and John Bodden himself going to the door heard it also, at which he was greatly affrighted. Upon the morrow yr after, the said Janet went into John's house, and they told her what they heard the night before about her house. Janet answered, 'It is nothing but my clocken hen'; but John declared that 'all the hens within twenty miles would not have made such a noise.' "The sd. John further delates that, upon the Wednesday after Janet was incarcerated, he did see about cock-crow a candle going through the said Janet's house, but saw nothing holding it." The Finding-- "April 10th, 1701. "As to Janet M'Robert, an extract of the delations against her being sent to Edinburgh, and a commission written for to pursue her legally it was denyed in regard they judged the delations not to be sufficient presumptions of guilt, so as to found a process of that nature. Notwithstanding thereof the said Janet consented to an act of banishment, and went hence to Ireland." _Extracts from Session Book of Twynholm._(29) "18th April, 1703. "Jean M'Murrie in Irelandton, suspect of witchcraft, being aprehended and incarcerated in the tolbooth of Kirkcudbright upon a warrant from the civil magistrate, the minr. (minister) is desired to cause cite to the next Session any whom he can find to have any presumptions of witchcraft agt the said Jean." "25th April, 1703. "The minister reports that he (as he was desired) has caused cite some persons anent Jean M'Murrie's suspected witchcraft, such as-- "1st. Florence Sprot, who being called and compearing, declares that by the report of the country Jean M'Murrie has been under the name of a witch for many years. "2d. John M'Gown in Culcray, in Tongland, declares, that he having a daughter of Jean M'Murrie's with him, the said Jean came one day to his house before her daughter went from him, and the sd Jean having conceived some anger because her daughter came to him without the said Jean's consent, she staying a little in his house, went away to a neighbour's house, and stayed there all night, and the said John going to her to-morrow, when she saw the said John she inquired how it came to pass that he took her daughter without her consent; and he desiring her back again to his house, but she by no entreatie wd (would) go to his house, and left the said John in a rage, and within about four days his wife took a dreadful stitch thro' her, as if she had been stricken with a whinger or knife, and his wife desiring earnestly that Jean M'Murrie would come and see her, but the sd Jean would never come to see her (altho' bidden by Janet Dallan in Irlandton), and so the said John's wife continued in great pain until she died. "3d. Issobel M'Gown in Netherton, who, being called and compearing, declares that Jean M'Murrie has been under the name of a witch for many years by the report of the country. "4th. Christian Bisset in Glencroft, declares that Jean M'Murrie has been under the name of a witch since she came to the parish, which is more than ten years." "2nd May, 1703. "Janet M'Haffie in the Mark of Twynhame, declares that, in harvest 1700, Jean M'Murrie came one night to the said Mark after they had been at the Mill, and the said Janet M'Haffie going to milk the kye, disowned the said Jean (not knowing that it was she), neither did any other about the Mark own the said Jean that night, and Jean going away without any alms that night, upon the morrow their milk was made useless, having a loathsome smell, likewise the said Janet M'Haffie fell sick, and was like a daft body for about eight days, at the end whereof both the sd. Janet and their milk grew better." "2nd May, 1703. "Margaret Kingan in Inglishtown, declares along with Quintin Furmount, kirk-officer, that John Neilson in Waltrees said to them, that this last ware Jean M'Murrie was selling about a peck of corn to the said John, and the said John would not give the said Jean what she would have for the said corn, and so the said Jean went away from him in anger, and the said John's horse did sweat until he died." "2nd May, 1703. "Robert Gelly and Sarah M'Nacht, in Chappell in Tongland, heaving been hearing sermon in Twynhame this day, were desired by the minister to wait upon the Session, which was to meet after sermon, which accordingly they did, and the said Sarah declares before the Session that upon a day about Midsummer last, Jean M'Murrie came into the Chappel and sought a piece bread to a lass that she had with her, and Sarah M'Nacht said she had no bread ready. Jean M'Murrie said, she (viz. the lass that was with her) would it may be take some of these pottage (Sarah having some pottage among her hands) but, however, Sarah gave her none, and Jean M'Murrie going away muttering, said, either 'you may have more loss,' or 'you shall have more loss,' and within about six hours or thereby thereafter, Robert Gelly lost a horse, and that the said Jean came never to Robert Gelly's house since that time, and the said Robert declares that he has still the thoughts that his horse was killed with divelrie." "2nd May, 1703. "Robert Bryce, Robert M'Burnie, and William Brown, ruling elders, declared that Thomas Craig in Barwhinnock said to them that upon a day more than two years ago Jean M'Murrie came to his house and sought his horse, and began to discourse to the sd Thomas and his wife about flesh. Thomas said they had no flesh. She went away in a rage and said, 'God send them more against the next time she should come there,' and within a week the said Thomas lost a quey by drowning." The finding:-- "9th May, 1703. "Robert Bryce attended the Presbytery. The minister reports that Jean M'Murray, having sought an Act of Banishment to transport herself out of the Stewartrie of Kirkcudbright within or at the end of ten days, and never to be found within the same again under the pain of death, is let out of Prison." Members of the Kirk-Session of Twynholm at this time:--William Clark, Minister; James Robison, Thomas Robison, John Herries, Ninian M'Nae, Robert Bryce, James Milrae, William Milrae, William Brown, Thomas Sproat, James M'Kenna, Alexander Halliday, Robert M'Burnie. _Parish of Urr._--The following is an extract from the Presbytery records of Dumfries, dated 22nd April, 1656:--(30) "John M'Quhan in Urr, compeared, confessing that he went to Dundrennan, to a witch-wife, for medicine for his sick wife, and that he got a salve for her, and that the wife said to him, 'If the salve went in his wife would live, if not she would die.' Janet Thomson in Urr, compearing, confessed that she went to the said witch, and got a salve to her mother, and that the witch bade her take her mother, and lay her furth twenty-four hours; and said that her mother got her sickness between the mill and her ain house, and bade her tak her to the place where she took it, and wash her with (elder) leaves. She also confessed that the deceased Thomas M'Minn and his friends sent her at another time to the same witch, whose name is Janet Miller. They were both rebuked (by the Presbytery), and referred to their own Session to be rebuked from the pillar in sackcloth, and the witch Janet Miller was further detained, the parish minister to announce from the pulpit that all who could were required to give evidence 'of sic devilish practices.'" _Kirkpatrick-Durham Kirk-Session._--At Bridge of Urr, Isobel M'Minn called Jean Wallace a witch. Jean told the Session. Both women were summoned to appear. The Session decided there was no witchcraft in the matter. "The Session, having shown them the evil of such strife and scolding, and having exhorted them to live in peace and be reconciled to each other, made them promise each to other that no such strife should be between them any more."(31) _Parish of Carsphairn._--An arbitrary incident of witch detection took place during the ministry of John Semple, a man who, if somewhat eccentric, was graced with extraordinary piety and natural ability. Of him it is recorded that "Upon a certain time when a neighbouring minister was distributing tokens before the Sacrament, and was reaching a token to a certain woman, Mr Semple (standing by) said 'Hold your hand, she hath gotten too many tokens already: she is a witch,' which, though none suspected her then, she herself confessed to be true, and was deservedly put to death for the same."(32) John Semple died at Carsphairn about the year 1667. _Extract from Minnigaff Kirk-Session Records._--"There being a flagrant report yt. some persons in this parish in and about the house of Barcly (Bargaly) have practised that piece of devilrie, commonly called 'turning the riddle,' as also it being reported yt. ye principal person is one Malley Redmond, an Irish woman, for present nurse in the house of Barcly to ye young lady Tonderghie, as also yt. Alex. Kelly, Gilbert Kelly his son, and Marion Murray, formerly servant in Barcly, now in Holme, were witnesses yrto, the Session appoints ye said Malley and ye said witnesses to be cited to ye nixt meeting." Malley, after some delay, at length appeared, but positively denied having "practised that piece of devilry turning the riddle," but acknowledged that she had seen it done in her father's house in Ireland by two girls on the occasion of something having been stolen, "to fear ye guilty person yt. it might restore yt. was stolen." Malley was exhorted to be ingenuous, but she persisted in asserting her innocence. The Session, therefore, resolved to proceed to proof. The proceedings occupy a number of pages, and are too long for insertion; but the particulars are comprehended in the deposition of Marrion Murray:-- "Marrion Murray, aged 18 years, having been sworn, purged of malice and partial counsel, deponeth yt. she (not having seen any other person doing it before her), together with ye nurse held the riddle between ym. having a pair of little schissors fastened into ye rim of the riddle, whereof ye nurse Malley Redmond held one point and she the other, and that ye nurse mumbled some words mentioning Peter and Paul, and that when the nurse said these words the riddle stirred less or more, and after ye nurse had said ye words she bad ye deponent say them too, and that she accordingly said the same things back again to the nurse, and that the deponent had said to ye nurse Malley before ever she meddled with it that if she knew yr. was anything evil in doing of it she would not meddle with it, and ye nurse replied yr. was no evil in it, and further that to sift the meddling with it she offered to take ye child from ye lady's arms, but ye young lady put her to it, bidding her go do it. As also yt. further ye said Marion depones yt. ye same day, a little after, ye young lady bad her go to ye barn and yr do it over again with ye nurse, which she positively refused, whereupon ye young lady did it herself with all the circumstances she and the nurse had done it in the chambers before; moreover, that some days after, the chamber door being close upon the young lady and her nurse Malley, ye deponent, looking through a hole in ye door, saw ye nurse and ye lady standing and ye riddle betwixt ym. as before, but heard nothing. And further, yt. ye lady and her nurse bad her deny these things, but did not bid her swear to it." For her participation in the affair the young lady Tonderghie, Mrs Janet Blair, was cited before the Session, and having expressed her penitence for being ensnared into such sinful practices, she and Marion Murray subscribed a declaration to be read before the congregation, "abhorring and renouncing all spelles and charmes usual to wizards; and having been rebooked and exhorted to greater watchfulness for the future, they were dismissed." The originator of the affair, Malley Redmond, after making her appearance to be "rebooked" before the congregation, was banished the parish. But the execution of the sentence was, through influence, delayed "till Tonderghie younger, his child, should be weaned."(33) _Parish of New Luce._--The only point of interest in connection with the parish of New Luce is that the chief witness against Maggie Osborne, who was burned as a witch at Ayr, was an elder in the Moor Kirk of Luce, to which reference has already been made. _Parish of Whithorn._--An old woman named Elspeth M'Keand lived on the farm of Palmallet, near Whithorn. On one occasion she was arraigned before the magistrates of Whithorn for some supposed uncannie doings, but the authorities, not endorsing the general belief, set her at liberty. So disappointed and enraged were the community at her liberation that they caught her and inserted a host of new brass pins in her body, and afterwards dragged her down to the shore at Dinnans, holding her below water until life was nearly extinct. The old woman never fairly recovered from this cruel treatment, and when she died her remains were objected to as not being fit to rest in the Kirkyaird.(34) _Parish of Kirkmaiden._--In the parish of Kirkmaiden we find a zealous prosecutor of witches in the person of the Rev. Mr Marshall, who was ordained in 1697. He was assisted in his efforts by a woman brought from the town of Wigtown, who was credited with possessing an expert faculty of at once being able to distinguish and pick out witches and warlocks from amongst ordinary mortals, however similar to them in outward appearance. All the adults in the parish were summoned to attend at the Parish Church on a given date and passed through the church from one door to the other. The minister placed himself in the precentor's box, with writing materials at his hand, the witch-finder being seated beside him. When witch or warlock passed, the woman tramped on the minister's toes and the name was at once recorded. A long list was thus made out, and the Kirk-Session afterwards inquired into the charges brought against the various individuals, which proceedings were afterwards inserted in the Session records. The stigma thus cast upon many families in the district was only removed by influence being brought to bear to destroy by burning the accusing pages of the Session records. Tradition asserts that retribution at the hands of the Kirkmaiden witches overtook the reverend gentleman, for, taking his accustomed walk from the manse to the church, a hare running out of the churchyard crossed his path, and from that time forward he was never again able to open his mouth in the pulpit of Kirkmaiden Church. He was shortly afterwards translated to Kirkcolm, and though he often visited Kirkmaiden he could never occupy the pulpit, even on the day of Sacramental observance.(35) * * * * * So late as 1805 a trial took place at Kirkcudbright connected with witchcraft which aroused considerable excitement in the district, creating keen interest as well in legal circles. This was the trial of "Jean Maxwell," who was accused of "pretending to exercise witchcraft, sorcery, enchantment, and conjuration, and undertaking to tell fortunes." The point which is of note, and calls for accentuation is, that Jean Maxwell was arraigned, not for being a witch, but for the imposition of pretending to possess witch power. This has been commented upon by Professor John Ferguson of Glasgow in his paper, "Bibliographical Notes on the Witchcraft Literature of Scotland" (_Publications of the Edinburgh Bibliographical Society_, vol. iii., 74 (1899), in which he says: "It will be noticed that Jean is indicted for PRETENDING to exercise witchcraft, etc. In fact, the indictment is made under the Act of George II., cap. 5, which repeals the statutes against witchcraft.... It is an interesting case, as having occurred under the repealing Act." The following is the indictment:-- "Jean Maxwell, present prisoner in the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, you are indicted at the instance of Robert Gordon, writer in Kirkcudbright, Procurator-Fiscal of the Steward Court of the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright for his Majesty's interest; that albeit by the Act of Parliament passed in the ninth year of the Reign of King George the Second, Cap. 5th, intituled 'An Act to repeal the Statute made in the first year of the Reign of James the First, intituled, "An Act against Conjuration, Witchcraft, and dealing with Evil and Witched Spirits;" except so much thereof as repeals an Act of the fifth year of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, against Conjurations, Inchantments, and Witchcraft.' And to repeal an Act passed in the Parliament of Scotland in the Ninth Parliament of Queen Mary, intituled 'Anentis Witchcraft; and for punishing such persons as pretend to exercise or use any kind of Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment, or Conjuration.' It is enacted 'That if any person shall from and after the twenty-fourth day of June next, pretend to exercise or use any kind of Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment, or Conjuration, or undertake to tell Fortunes or pretend from his or her skill or knowledge in ocult or crafty science, to discover where or in what manner any goods or chattels supposed to have been lost, may be found; every person so offending being therefore lawfully convicted on Indictment of Information, in that part of Great Britain called England; or on Indictment or Libel, in that part of Great Britain called Scotland, shall for every such offence suffer imprisonment for the space of one whole year without Bail or Mainprize; and once in every quarter of the said year, in some Market Town of the proper County, upon the Market Day there, stand openly on the Pillory for the space of one hour; and also shall (if the Court by which such Judgment shall be given think fit) be obliged to give surety for his or her good behaviour, in such sum, and for such time as the said Court shall judge proper, according to the circumstances of the offence; and in such case shall be further imprisoned until such sureties be given.' "Notwithstanding of the said Act of Parliament, you, the said Jean Maxwell, are Guilty, Actor, Art and Part of pretending to exercise Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment, and Conjuration; and of undertaking to tell fortunes, &c., &c. (in the manner particularly mentioned in the Deposition of Jean Davidson, hereto annexed). In so far as you the said Jean Maxwell, did, upon Thursday the twenty-seventh, Friday the twenty-eighth, and Saturday the twenty-ninth days of December last, in the year one thousand eight hundred and four, and upon Tuesday the first and Tuesday the eighth days of January last, in the year one thousand eight hundred and five, or upon some one or other of the days or nights of these months, or of the month of November immediately preceding, or of the month of February immediately following, at Little Cocklick, in the Parish of Urr, and Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, pretend to Tell Fortunes by Tea Cups and the grounds of Tea; and did tell to Jean Davidson, Servant to Francis Scott, farmer in Little Cocklick aforesaid, that she would soon bear a Bastard to a certain young man, Hugh Rafferton; which you said you could prevent by certain means. And you, the said Jean Maxwell, caused the said Jean Davidson to rub or anoint her forehead and other parts of her head with a liquid contained in bottle produced by you, which so much intoxicated and disordered the said Jean Davidson that she would have done anything that you the said Jean Maxwell had asked her to do; and you the said Jean Maxwell, availing yourself of the situation that she the said Jean Davidson was in, declared to her that the Devil would speedily appear and tear her in pieces, unless she obeyed you, the said Jean Maxwell, in every particular. And you, the said Jean Maxwell, caused the said Jean Davidson take oaths of Secrecy for the purpose of concealing your wicked and felonious purposes. That on the said twenty-seventh day of December last you, the said Jean Maxwell, caused the said Jean Davidson produce a Guinea Note, which you pretended to hold up in a small bit of paper, putting round it some lint, and stitching in it nine pins, after which you gave it to the said Jean Davidson and ordered her to cast it into the fire, which she did accordingly. And you, the said Jean Maxwell, then ordered the said Jean Davidson to bring one of her shifts and three shillings with it, which you sewed up in the tail of the shift, and said that the shift was to be consumed in the fire, as an Offering to the Devil, who was to appear at the time of the burning of the shift, in the shape of either a Bull or a Swine; and at the same time you, the said Jean Maxwell, gave to the said Jean Davidson a powder sewed up in a piece of fine linen and stuck through with nine pins, which you injoined her to wear at her breast till the day of her death, and tell no mortal of it. That on the said twenty-eighth day of December last you, the said Jean Maxwell, told the said Jean Davidson that the Devil had rejected two sixpences of the money formerly sent him in the tail of the shift; that he insisted in lieu of the sixpences to have two shillings with heads on them; and that he was up and stirring, and must be satisfied; and the said Jean Davidson, having furnished the shillings, you, the said Jean Maxwell, after stamping on the ground twice or thrice with your foot, pretended to hand them to Satan as if he had stood behind you. That on the said twenty-ninth day of December last you, the said Jean Maxwell, declared to the said Jean Davidson that the Devil was still up, and that he must have a man's shirt of plain linen, and in it a shoulder of mutton; and the said Jean Davidson, terrified by your threats, gave you a check shirt of the said Francis Scott's, her master, together with a Shoulder of Mutton, also his property, tied up in the shirt; and you the said Jean Maxwell, tied up these articles in your own Budget; and then, telling the said Jean Davidson that all this was insufficient to lay the Devil, you asked her for half-a-crown more; and the said Jean Davidson in confusion and fright gave you a Dollar, which you said would do as well, and that at any rate it must not be taken back being once offered; and then you the said Jean Maxwell, went to the back of the byre at Little Cocklick aforesaid, and returned and told the said Jean Davidson that you had laid the Devil so that he could not come nearer her than the back of the byre, but cautioned her strongly not to travel that way nor farther after it was dark. That on the said first day of January last, you the said Jean Maxwell returned to Little Cocklick aforesaid, and told the said Jean Davidson, that Hugh Rafferton was to be with her on the Thursday ensuing, very lovingly and ready to marry her, or do whatever she should ask of him: and moreover, you the said Jean Maxwell declared that, if the said Jean Davidson used Hugh Rafferton harshly, and refused to marry him, Hugh Rafferton would lose his reason and go stark mad at the end of eight weeks; that in the meantime however you must have another Guinea Note for the Devil, with a faced shilling in it; and the money was furnished by the said Jean Davidson; when you the said Jean Maxwell clipped or pretended to cut the note, in small pieces with scissors, pretending that in this manner it was to be presented to the Devil alongst with the faced shilling. That soon after this, you the said Jean Maxwell, told the said Jean Davidson that the first note was not accepted, and that you must have an Old and very Tattered Note and three Shillings more, which having been furnished by the said Jean Davidson, you the said Jean Maxwell bound up the Note with paper and lint, and having stuck it with nine pins gave it to the said Jean Davidson who threw it into the fire; and you the said Jean Maxwell, after stamping on the ground, handed the three Shillings behind you so that Satan might receive them as you pretended he had received the former presents; that these things being done, you the said Jean Maxwell left the said Jean Davidson at her father's house at Killymingan, in the Parish of Kirkgunzeon, on the said first day of January last, declaring that Hugh Rafferton should wait on her in deep humility on the Thursday ensuing; and that all the money offered to Satan should be returned into the said Jean Davidson's Chest on the subsequent Friday morning by sun-rising; and that all should be, and really was, perfectly right. That on the said eighth day of January last you the said Jean Maxwell again waited on the said Jean Davidson, at the house of the said Francis Scott, in Little Cocklick aforesaid, and told that all was gone wrong, that the Devil had proved too strong for you, the said Jean Maxwell, and had rent a check apron given you by the said Jean Davidson formerly for a burnt offering; and you the said Jean Maxwell pretended to show the distinct marks of Satan's claws, and the mark of his Thumb on your arm, adding, that he could not be laid without the aid of John M'George, commonly called the 'Devil-Raiser' of Urr; and for that end, you the said Jean Maxwell demanded Two Notes more, and three pieces of flesh meat, one of them to be pork, which you professed to roll up at great peril in the check apron; and you the said Jean Maxwell also insisted to have the said Jean Davidson's duffle cloak, but the said Jean Davidson, having by this time got into the use of her reason, got the better of the terror of the oaths of secresy imposed upon her by the said Jean Maxwell, managed so as to detain you until a Constable was sent for, who took you into Custody and carried you before the Reverend Dr James Muirhead of Logan, one of his Majesty's Justices of the Peace for the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in whose presence you emitted a Declaration, upon the ninth day of January last, in the year one thousand eight hundred and five, which Declaration is subscribed by your mark, and by the said Dr James Muirhead, because you declared that you could not write; and the said declaration being to be used in evidence against you the said Jean Maxwell, will in due time be lodged with the Steward Clerk, that you may have an opportunity of seeing the same. "At least times and place aforesaid, WITCHCRAFT, SORCERY, INCHANTMENT, and CONJURATION, were pretended to be exercised and used, and fortunes were undertaken to be told, all in manner particularly before mentioned; and you the said Jean Maxwell, are Guilty Actor, Art and Part of the said crimes; All which, or part thereof, being found proven by the Verdict of an Assize before the Steward-Depute of the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, and his Substitutes, in a Court to be holden by them or either of them within the Court-House of Kirkcudbright, upon the twenty-first day of June, in the present year one thousand eight hundred and five; you the said Jean Maxwell, Ought to be imprisoned in the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright by the space of one whole year without Bail or Mainprize; and once in every quarter of the said year, to stand Openly in the Jugs or Pillory, at the Market Cross of the Burgh of Kirkcudbright, by the space of one hour; and to be farther imprisoned in the said Tolbooth, for your good behaviour, in such sum and for such time as the said court shall judge proper, agreeably to the provisions and enactments of the said Act of Parliament, to deter others from committing the like crimes in time coming." The Procurator-Fiscal concluded his Proof, and the Steward-Depute remitted the Cause to the Verdict of the Assize. The persons that passed upon the Assize of the said Jean Maxwell, returned their Verdict to the Court; and the tenor thereof is as follows:-- "At Kirkcudbright, the 21st day of June, 1805, the Assize being enclosed, did make choice of Alexander Melville of Barwhar to be their Chancellor, and William Mure, Factor for the Earl of Selkirk, to be their Clerk; and having considered the Indictment raised at the instance of Robert Gordon, Writer in Kirkcudbright, Procurator-Fiscal of Court for His Majesty's interest, against Jean Maxwell, present Prisoner in the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, the Pannel, with the Interlocutor of the Steward-Depute of the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright thereon, and the whole Proof adduced, they Unanimously Find the said Jean Maxwell Guilty of the Crimes charged against her in the said Indictment. In Testimony, whereof, &c. (Signed) ALEXR. MELVILLE, Chancellor. ( " ) WILL. MURE, Clerk." (Court adjourned for a week.) "Kirkcudbright, 28th June, 1805. "The Steward-Depute having considered the Verdict of the Assize, bearing date the twenty-first day of June current, and returned into Court that day against Jean Maxwell, the Pannel, whereby she is found guilty of pretending to exercise WITCHCRAFT, SORCERY, INCHANTMENT, and CONJURATION, and of undertaking to tell fortunes, contrary to the Enactments and Provisions of the Act of Parliament passed in the 5th year of the Reign of King George the Second, Chapter fifth, in the manner charged against her in the Indictment, at instance of the Procurator-Fiscal of Court; the Steward Depute, in respect of the said Verdict, Decerns and Adjudges the said Jean Maxwell to be carried back from the Bar to the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, and to be Imprisoned therein for the space of One Whole Year, without Bail or Mainprize; and Once in every Quarter of the said year to stand openly upon a Market day in the Jugs or Pillory, at the Market Cross of the Burgh of Kirkcudbright, for the space of One Hour, &c.--(Signed) ALEXR. GORDON." It only remains to be added that this sentence was rigorously carried out. A small, and now scarce volume, containing a full account of the trial, was published at Kirkcudbright the same year, of which the following is a copy of the title-page:-- REMARKABLE TRIAL OF JEAN MAXWELL THE Galloway Sorceress: Which took place at KIRKCUDBRIGHT on the twenty-eighth day of June last, 1805: For Pretending to Exercise WITCHCRAFT, SORCERY, INCHANTMENT, CONJURATION, etc. "And that distilled by Magic slights Shall raise such artificial sprights, As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion." --_Macbeth._ KIRKCUDBRIGHT: Printed by Alexander Gordon. 1805. PROCEEDINGS IN DUMFRIESSHIRE. Concerning Dumfriesshire there falls to be recorded numerous instances of accusation and trial, which includes the ever-to-be-regretted consummation of fanaticism in this district--the burning of nine unhappy women on the Sands of Dumfries in the year 1659. _Burgh of Dumfries._ _Extract from the Dumfries Burgh Treasurer's Books, May 27th, 1657._--Detailed items of expenditure incurred at the burning of two women convicted of witchcraft: "For 38 load of peitts to burn the two women, £3 12s (Scots). Mair, given to William Edgar for ane tar barrell, 12s; for ane herring barrell, 14s. Given to John Shotrick, for carrying the twa barrells to the pledge (house), 6s. Mair, given to the four officers that day that the whiches was burnt, at the provest and bayillis command, 24s. Given to Thomas Anderson for the two stoups and the two steaves (to which the women were tied), 30s."(36) _Resolution of Kirk-Session of Dumfries, 1658._--The Kirk-Session of Dumfries, after solemn deliberation on the subject, required the minister to announce from the pulpit that all persons having evidence to give against such as were under suspicion of "the heinous and abominable sin of witchcraft," should be ready to furnish the same to the Session without delay; and at their next meeting the elders wisely qualified the order, by resolving that anyone who charged another with being guilty of "sic devilisch practises," without due reason, should be visited with the severest discipline of the Kirk.(37) _Official Information regarding the burning of the nine women on the Sands of Dumfries, 13th April, 1659._ These women were first strangled and then burned. The following particulars were gleaned from the books of the High Court of Justiciary kept at the Register House, Edinburgh:-- _1659._--The Court was opened at Dumfries on the 2nd of April, in the above year, by the "Commissioners in Criminal Cases to the people in Scotland," Judge Mosley and Judge Lawrence; and that ten women, each charged with divers acts of witchcraft, were brought before them for trial. The proceedings appear to have lasted until the 5th. One of the accused, Helen Tait, had a rather narrow escape--the jury finding by a plurality of voices that the "dittay" in her case was "not cleirly proven." Nevertheless, before being dismissed from the bar, she was required to find security to the extent of £50 sterling for her good behaviour, and that she would banish herself from the parish. The nine other unfortunates were all convicted, as is shown by the subjoined minute, giving the finding of the jury and the deliverance of the judge, as pronounced by the official dempster, "F. Goyyen":--(38) "_Drumfreis, the 5th of Apryle, 1659._--The Commissioners adjudges Agnes Comenes, Janet M'Gowane, Jean Tomson, Margt. Clerk, Janet M'Kendrig, Agnes Clerk, Janet Corsane, Helen Moorhead, and Janet Callon, as found guilty of the severall articles of witchcraft mentioned in the dittayes, to be tane upon Wednesday come eight days to the ordinar place of execution for the burghe of Drumfreis, and ther, betuing 2 and 4 hours of the afternoon, to be strangled at staikes till they be dead, and therefter ther bodyes to be burned to ashes, and all ther moveable goods to be esheite. Further, it is ordained that Helen Moorhead's moveables be intromitted with by the Shereff of Nithsdaile, to seize upon and herrie the samin for the King's use."(39) [Illustration: THE BURNING OF THE NINE WOMEN ON THE SANDS OF DUMFRIES, APRIL 13TH, 1659. (Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.)] _Resolution of the Dumfries Presbytery regarding the attendance of clergymen before the carrying out of the sentence, and at the actual "burning" of the women, on the Sands_:-- "5th April, 1659. "The Presbytery have appoynted Mr Hugh Henrison, Mr Wm. M'Gore, Mr George Campbell, Mr John Brown, Mr Jo. Welsh, Mr George Johnston, Mr Wm. Hay, and Mr Gabriel Semple, to attend the nine witches, and that they tak thair own convenient opportunity to confer with them; also that they be assisting to the brethren of Dumfries and Galloway the day of the Execution."(40) _Dumfries, 14th November, 1664._--An edict from the Town Council: "The Counsall being informed that Janet Burnes, commonly reputed a witche, and quho hath bein banished out of severall burghis, and put out of this burgh in the month of August last, for cheating the people upon pretence of knowledge of all things done by them in tym past, or that may fall out in tym cuming, with certification to be scurgit if ever she was sein within the burgh theireafter; and being well informed that she was sein within the town on Saturday, they have ordaint that intimation be made by touk of drum, that non of the inhabitants resset or give meit or drink unto the said Janet Burnes."(41) _Court of Justiciary, Tolbooth of Dumfries, May 18th, 1671._--Warrant for the execution of two alleged witches: "Magistrates of Drumfreis, Forasmuch as in ane Court of Justiciarie, holden be us within the Tolbuthe of Drumfreis, upon the fyftein day of May instant, Janet Muldritche, and Elspeth Thomsone, now found guiltie be ane assyze of the severall articles of witchcraft specified in the verdict given against them thereanent, were decerned and adjudged be us, The Lords Commissioners of Justiciary, to be tane upon Thursday next, the eighteen day of May instant, betwixt two and four houres in the afternoune, to (the) ordinare place of executione, for the toune of Drumfreis, and there to be worried at ane stake till they be dead; and theirafter their bodies to be burnt to ashes, and all their moveable goods and geir to be escheit. You shall thairfoir cause put the said sentence to due executione, whereanent their presents shall be your warrand. Given at Drumfreis the sixteen day of May, 1671."(42) _Court of Justiciary, Dumfries, 1709._--Last trial for witchcraft in Scotland: The accused was named Elspeth Rule; the indictment against her being that she was by habit and repute a witch, and had used threatening expressions towards persons at enmity with her, who, in consequence of such menace, suffered from the death of friends or the loss of cattle, while one of them became mad. The jury by a majority of votes found the charges proven; and the judge condemned the prisoner to be burned upon the cheek with a hot iron and banished for life. It is told how, when this brutal act of branding the cheek was being carried out, smoke was seen issuing from the poor woman's mouth.(43) _Dumfries and Major Weir, the notorious Edinburgh warlock--a slight connecting link with Dumfries._ In his more youthful days Major Weir led an active military life, serving as an officer in the Puritan Army during the Civil War (1641). In the Registers of the Estates under March 3rd, 1647, reference is made to a supplication by Major Thomas Weir, asking "that the Parliament wald ordain John Acheson, Keeper of the Magazine, to re-deliver to the supplicant the band given by him to the said John upon the receipt of are thousand weight of poulder, two thousand weight of match, and an thousand weight of ball, sent with the supplicant to Dumfries for furnishing that part of the country." _Presbytery of Dumfries (Southern District), March, 1692._--Marion Dickson in Blackshaw, Isobel Dickson in Locherwood, Agnes Dickson (daughter of Isobel), and Marion Herbertson in Mouswaldbank, had for a long time been "suspected of the abominable and horrid crime of witchcraft," and were believed to have "committed many grievous malefices upon several persons their neighbours and others." It was declared to be damnifying "to all good men and women living in the country thereabouts, who cannot assure themselves of safety of their lives by such frequent malefices as they commit." Under these circumstances, James Fraid, John Martin, William Nicolson, and Thomas Jaffrey in Blackshaw, John Dickson in Slop of Locherwoods, John Dickson in Locherwoods, and John Dickson in Overton of Locherwoods, took it upon them to apprehend the women, and carried them to be imprisoned at Dumfries by the sheriff, which, however, the sheriff did not consent to till after the six men had granted a bond engaging to prosecute. Fortified with a certificate from the Presbytery of Dumfries, who were "fully convinced of the guilt (of the women), and of the many malefices committed by them," the men applied to the Privy Council for a commission to try the delinquents. The Lords ordered the women to be transported to Edinburgh for trial.(44) _Kirk-Session of Caerlaverock._--Charge of alleged divination brought at their instance, before the Dumfries Presbytery, 22nd March, 1697: "Compeared John Fergusson in Woodbarns, who acknowledged his scandalous carriage in charming and turning the key at Bankend conform to the accusation, but says he knew not there was any evil in it. The Presbytery appoint him to stand on the pillar in the church of Caerlaverock, and be sharply rebuked for his scandalous _practice_ and recommends him to the magistrates to be secured till he give bail to answer and satisfy conform to this act." The actual circumstance connected with this charge of alleged divination are briefly as follows:--About the middle of January, 1697, two men returning from Dumfries entered the tavern of William Nairns at Bankend of Caerlaverock. These were John Fergusson of Woodbarns, Cummertrees, and William Richardson, Cummertreestown. On leaving the inn Richardson discovered that a sack of provisions had been taken from the saddle of his horse which had been tied to a ring at the door. Entering the house, he made known his loss, declaiming loudly against the thief. In the utmost sympathy with his friend's loss, Fergusson declared he could soon find out who the thief was, and called out that two Bibles should be brought to him at once, to which the landlord stoutly demurred; but Fergusson threatened that unless he got his own way he "would make bloody work among them," and two Bibles were accordingly brought to the said John Fergusson, "who brought a key out of his pocket and put the one end of it within one Bible and the bowl end out, clasping the Bible upon it, and two holding the bowl of the key upon their fingers. The said John then read three verses of the 50th Psalm out of the second Bible, beginning always at the 18th verse, always naming a person before he began to read, till they came to William M'Kinnell in the same town; and when they named him, and were reading the said Scripture, the key and the Bible turned about and fell on the table. This was done three times, as attested by James Tait, mason, who is quartered in Townhead; James Fergusson, servitor to George Maxwell of Isle; George Fergusson in Bankend; and William Nairns, in whose house it was done."(45) _Extracts from Irongray Kirk-Session Records._ "September 24th, 1691. "David Muirhead of Drumpark and his wife, being called before the Session and examined anent ane strife betwixt them and Janet Sinklar, submitted themselves to the will of the Session. Janet Sinklar also submitted to the will of the Session for saying that she doubted Drumpark's wife of murder and witchcraft, and is appointed to receive publick rebuke before the congregation." "August 30, 1691. "William Anderson in Hall of Forest, being called before the Session for bringing his child to a smith to be charmed with ane forge hammer, confessed his sin and received a rebuke before the Session." "November 13, 1692. "John Charters in Barncleugh, being called before the Session as witness nominat by James Wright to prove witchcraft against Janet Kirk, denied that he knew anything of witchcraft in her. Margaret Smyth, wife of John Jonston, being called before the Session, declared in her hearing that Janet Kirk, being brought in to Elizabeth Jonston, being grievously tormented with sickness like to distraction, pronounced these words, that 'if God had taken the health from her let Him given it again, and if the devil had taken it from her to give it her again.' On which she was rebuked." "April 16th, 1693. "Jean Stot (Ingleston) confessed before the Session that she blessed God if Jean Grier's prayings had any pith that they lighted on a kow and not on a person, and did say that Jean Kirkpatrick did gather root grown briers on a Saboth day, and nominat Agnes Patton for a witness." The Session found "wrath and malice among the inhabitants of Ingleston," and the minister was sent as peacemaker. "Jean Stot obeyed the minister and forgave Jean Grier, and also required forgiveness of her, which she refused till further advisement."(46) _Parish of Irongray._--Traditional account of the sacrifice of a reputed witch by enclosing her in a tar-barrel, setting it alight, and rolling it into the Water of Cluden:-- "In the reign of James VI. of Scotland, or under the early Government of his son Charles, tradition tells of a woman that was burnt as a witch in the Parish of Irongray, about seven miles west from Dumfries. In a little mud-walled cottage, in the lower end of the Bishop's Forest, and nigh the banks of the Water of Cluden, resided a poor widow woman, who earned her bread by spinning with a _pole_, and by weaving stockings from a clue of yarn depending from her bead-strings. She lived alone, and was frequently seen on a summer's eve, sitting upon a jagged rock, which overhung the Routing burn, or gathering sticks, late in a November evening, among the rowan-tree roots, nigh the dells which signalise the sides of that romantic stream. She had also, sometimes, lying in her window a black-letter Bible, whose boards are covered with the skin of a _fumart_, and which had two very grotesque clasps of brass to close it with when she chose. Her lips were sometimes seen to be moving when she went to church, and she was observed to predict shower or sunshine at certain periods, which predictions often came to be realised.... "The Bishop of Galloway was repeatedly urged to punish this witch; and lest it should be reported to the king that he refused to punish witches, he at last caused her to be brought before him, nigh to the spot. She was rudely forced from her dwelling, and several neighbours of middle or of old age were cited to declare all the wicked things she had done. "She was sentenced to be drowned in the Routing burn, but the crowd insisted that she should be shut up in a tar-barrel and hurled into the Cluden. Almost against the Bishop's consent, this latter death was consummated. The wretched woman was enclosed in a barrel, fire was set to it, and it was rolled, in a blaze, into the waters of Cluden. "Such, says the tradition of no very doubtful date, was the savage end of one who was reputed a witch. The spot where, 'tis said, the prelate sat, is yet called Bishop's Butt. The well from which she drew the water for her domestic use, and where the young rustic belles washed their faces, still retains the name of the Witch's Well; and a pool in the Cluden, nigh to the well, often bears the name of the Witch's Pool. Even some rocks nigh to the Routing Bridge are still pointed out, where she was wont to sit; and a hollow into which, say some, she used to throw an elfin clue. That wood yet feathering the hill side west from Drumpark, always bears the name of the Bishop's Forest; and the sylvan ravine, furrowed by a brawling brook, has been, by some now in their graves, named the Warlock's Glen."(47) _Parish of Closeburn._--Janet Fraser, called before the Presbytery of Dumfries, 1691. Her remarkable revelations:-- "The person is a young woman, unmarried, of the age of about twenty years, whose name is Jonet Fraser, or, as we in the south used to pronounce it, Frissel, who then lived, and yet lives, with her father, Thomas Frissell, a weaver to his trade, a man of unblamed conversation, in the sheriffdome of Dumfries, in the countrey thereof called Nithisdale, and parochin of Closeburn, six miles, or thereby, from the town of Dumfriece. [Illustration: "PENANCE." (Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.)] "She is, and hath been for a long time, a person in the judgment of all that know her a serious Christian; and was for a good time before this befell her, more then ordinary exercised in private condition with God, as the relation after-specified gives the reader a little touch. "She can read print, but cannot write herself; but whatever she saw in vision, was at times able to give ane exact account of it, after all was over; and accordingly did give the relation following to some creditable gentlemen, and some country people, her acquaintance:-- "The time of my exercise was eight years, and all this time was troubled with the appearance of a thing like a _bee_, and other times like a black man, and that also at severall times, and in severall places. "Then at the end of the eight year, I being at prayer, the black man did appear as at other times, he being upon the one side of me, and there appearing upon the other side a bonny hand and a rod in it, and the rod was budding; and I said, 'Is that Thy hand and Thy rod, O Lord?' And I was content to embrace the one, and flee the other. Then, upon that night eight nights, I was coming home near hand unto my dwelling, I grew very drowsie, and fell asleep, and there was a voice said to me, 'Awake, why sleepest thou?' And there was lightning round about me; and I looking up to the top of a bush that was at my hand, there was the shape of a dove that went alongst with me in company to the house. "Then, about three quarters of a year thereafter, the rod appeared again to be a double rod, or a rod that was springing and forthcoming, and after that time I was never troubled with the black man any more." Her first revelation was on the 4th of June, 1684, but it is very difficult to make out what her visions portended:--"On the 5th day of November, 1684, I being at prayer, there appeared unto me, in a bodily shape, three persons (as to my sight all in white), and they goe round about me the way the sun goeth; their coming was still after one manner, when I was at my duty, only I discern he that spoke first at one time, spoke first at all times, and so continued to speak by course, with Scripture notes, naming books, chapter, and verse--sometimes all the verse, sometimes a part." She was greatly concerned about the _suffering remnant_, and had many mysterious responses as to that. This intercourse with spirits continued for some years, and is very circumstantially detailed in the MS., at the conclusion of which is this additional miracle:-- "Besides what the reader has had formerly, he has likewise this following account of a passage that befell this holy woman, the 1st May, 1687, which was Sunday. This Jonet Frazer, and a young lass, a sister daughter of hers, about 17 or 18 years of age, having gone out into the fields, and both of them lying down on the grass near the water of Nith, which is but a bow-draught from her father's house, and both of them reading their Bibles, and lying about the distance of four yards the one from the other, this Jonet Frazer is taken with a great drouth, and goes to the water of Nith to take a drink, leaving her Bible open at the place where she was reading, which was the 34th chap. of Esaiah, from verse 5 to 11, inclusive, which begins--'For my sword shall be bathed in heaven; behold it shall come down on the people of Idumea, and upon the people of my curse, to judgment,' etc. And when she had returned immediately as shoon as she could take a drink of water, she sees her Bible is coloured with bloud, as she thought, though afterwards, upon inspection and tryall it was not bloud, but red as bloud, and such as no person by the colour could discern from bloud; upon which she asks the other lass, 'If any thing had been near her Bible?' And she answered, 'Nothing that she saw.' She asks, 'How could it then be that her Bible was covered over with bloud?' Which both of them going near, found to be the very same place where Jonet was reading, viz., from verse 5 to 11, and some farther of the 34th chap., so as the print was not at all legible. The other lass would have her wipe off the blood, but she could not, but carried it as it was to her father, and a brother of hers, a godly young man, who is dead since, and some others, and did show it to them, who were curious to taste it, and it had a welsh taste, as if it had been some metear; the hens and birds would not pick it up. "The very next Lord's day, 8th May, this Jonet being in her father's barn about ane hour alone, some little time before sunset, she came to the door of the barn to read, and while she was reading, about the 49th verse of Jeremiah, the like bloud did cover all that place which she was reading, viz., from the 46th verse to the 54th, as I remember, so thick as it marred all the print and made it unintelligible, nor did she ever perceive it fall down upon the book, or observe it till it did cover and spread over all that place; and it is to be remarked, she was standing within the door, the thatch of the barn being over her head and over the book that she was reading on, and that the bloud covered the print in the very time wherein she was reading, it spread over that part of it. "The very next Sabbath thereafter, 15th of May, while she is again in that same barn, reading the 14th chap. of Revelations, the like bloud fell on the book, and covered all the chapter from the 9th verse to the end of the chapter, in the very act of the reading it, and which, she said, that she perceived it not, but about half ane inches distance from the book before it fell down upon it. "The relater heirof is Maister Henry Maxwell, of Dalswinton, who dwells within two miles of the place where she dwells; saw the Bible, and the bloud upon all the three places of that Bible, which is still extant. "It is not bloud, for it is as tough as glew, and will not be scrapped off by a knife as bloud will; but it is so like bloud as none can discern any difference by the colour." After this course of vision and bloody showers, Mrs Frazer, it would appear, fell under the suspicion of dealing with evil, in the place of good, spirits. For in the year 1691 she was called before the Presbytery and confessed: "That she pretended to prophecying and seeing of visions, and that she had sinned greatly in being deluded by Satin, causing her prophecie and see things future. Her book was appointed to be examined by two of the Presbytery; and on her second appearance she acknowledged that she was possessed by some evil spirit, and humbly besought the prayer of the ministers and of all others; upon which the further examination of herself and the witnesses was delayed. Nothing more is heard of her."(48) _Records of Penpont Presbytery, 1706._ From January to March in the year 1706 the Presbytery of Penpont was occupied with the case of the Rev. Peter Rae, minister of Kirkbride. Mr Rae was slandered by a woman who alleged that he called her a "witch," and when sick said to her, "They say you have my health, so give it again if you have it," and also called her to come near hand him, and when she came he presently bled her on the "forrit" (forehead). It was proved that Mr Rae did call her a witch, and did in his illness endeavour to draw blood from her brow, for which he was rebuked. In 1737 Mr Rae was translated from Kirkbride (an extinct parish in Nithsdale now embraced in the parishes of Durisdeer and Sanquhar) and became minister of Kirkconnel. He was also clerk to the Presbytery of Penpont, before whom in earlier years he appeared. He is perhaps better known as the author of _The History of the Late Rebellion_[15] (1715). A man of outstanding ability, his memory is honoured by a mural tablet placed in the south wall of Kirkconnel church. _Glencairn Kirk-Session Records._ "Apryl nynth, 1694."--Case of Margret M'Kinch (not "_M'Onrick_," as given by Monteith,[16] p. 44). In the evidence it is stated that: "Robert Muir in Dunregon came in to James Rodgerson's hous, drew his knyf and offered to blood her abov ye b----" [paper torn--breath (?)]. "On Apryl nynth, 1694, Margt. M'Kinch gave in an wrytten list of ye names who had sclandered her by calling her an witch, earnestly desiring ye Session to put the same to ---- [proof(?)] that she myght be free from ye scandal." [Gap in the records, 1694-1700.] 10th September, 1704.--"Appoints yt it be publickly intimate upon Sabbath first that no Heritor, tennent, or Householder whatsomever within this paroch resett our harbour Jaunet Harestanes, sometime in Keir paroch, with certification." 24th September, 1704.--"Appointment obeyed in makeing intimation anent Jaunet Harestanes, reputed to be under the _mala-fama_ of witchcraft." 14th November, 1707.--Case of Alexander Deuart (not "_Douart_" as given by Monteith, p. 44):-- Alex. Deuart, gardener, at Maxwelton, is charged with having "brought back some stolen goods by charm or enchantment or some other pretended ocult quality in herbs, along with some mutterings and gestures, as makes him so commonly reputed a charmer that he is sought unto by persons from divers corners of the country to the great scandal of religion. The said Alex. being interrogated primo--Did you bring back those things which was stolen from Maxwelton--aiz., six pair sheets, ten ------ [undecipherable], three aprons, at one time; a large silver tumbler at another time; and a book at a third time? _A._ Yes; I was the causer, but had no hand in it myself. _Q._ Did you not take money for the bringing of them back? _A._ I told them I could do such things if it was not injurious to any, and told that he took money for the bringing of them back. _Q._ How did you bring them back? _A._ I cannot tell that, for I promised not to tell where I received my art. _Q._ Did you make use of herbs as it is reported of you in order to the bringing of them back? _A._ I did make use of herbs in part, but not for the bringing of them back. _Q._ How did you make use of the herbs that you might know where they were? _A._ I laid them under my head and dreamed of them. _Q._ What are the herbs which had that effect upon your sleep? _A._ I will not tell that to any living if they should saw me asunder. _Q._ How came the cloaths back? _A._ I must cause some brother of trade who dwells near hand them to tell them who have them that they must be brought back and they should not be wronged. _Q._ Why did you not tell of the people who took away these cloaths, seeing thieves ought to be discovered for the good of the country? _A._ It doth not belong to me to put out any man, otherwise I should be in eternity this day eight days. _Q._ Did any person bring the things back, or how came they back? _A._ I brought them not back, but the people who took them away brought them back. _Q._ But how could the silver tumbler be brought back and put in a fast-locked room? _A._ The person who took it flung it in at the window upon one of the shelves. (_Notandum_--Now it was told him that all the windows were fast-snecked, as the servants who went in to take up the tumbler declared.) _Q._ Did you not say when the tumbler was got, 'I must have the hair that was in and about it, for it is the hair of a horse which belonged to a man who is shortly to be hanged for stealing?' _A._ Yes. _Q._ Did you not say to Sir Walter Laurie, 'lock me ever so close in a room and I will cause all the cloaths that were taken away hang down upon the spouts of the tower upon the morrow morning?' _A._ Yes. _Q._ Did you not say before me, the Minister, 'lock the cloaths again in as fast a room as you can, and I'll cause them, for a little money, go all back in the place where they were?' _A._ Yes. _Q._ Why did you not bring back the silver spoon that was lost? _A._ It was in Edinburgh, and the name was scraped out, and I could not bring it back until I went to Edinburgh. _Q._ Why did you not bring back the mattock and other things? _A._ It had been on fire. _Q._ Why did you not bring back all the aprons, for there is one of them awanting yet? _A._ I could not bring it back because it was burnt, and when a thing is hid beneath the ground or the like I can't get wott of that. _Q._ Did you not mutter some words when you used these charms? _A._ Yes. _Q._ What are they? _A._ 'Cloaths, cloaths, cloaths, and other things lost.' _Q._ Whether did you use such charms afore Hallow-een as throwing nuts in the fire, sowing seeds up and down the house, and herbs to every corner, going backwards from the fire to the door, round the close backwards, up the stairs backward, and to your bed backward? _A._ Yes. _Q._ Being told by a Minister that from what he had heard there was either devolrie in it, or he was the thief himself. To which he replied, 'I shall make it out to be no devolrie; or if it be devolrie, it is unknown to me.' _Q._ Did you not bring back a book of Mrs Violet's? _A._ Yes. _Q._ Did you not say you could cause any woman in London come down to you if but told her name? _A._ I could do it, and I can. _Q._ Did you not say in the presence of Sir Walter Laurie, Bailie Corbet in Dumfries, James Gordoun, Wryter, Yr., and me, that you could cause any of us dance naked? _A._ I did, if you would take what I give you; and also added that he could cause any woman follow him if she would take what he would give her. _Q._ Alexander, where learned you that art? _A._ I learned it from the gardener at Arnistoun, now dead, but was at my brothering. _Q._ But are there any alyve that was at your brothering? _A._ No. After all which, the Moderator said unto him: 'Saunders, did you not say to me when I was poseing you privately about these things, and telling you that from all I had heard from you that I was convinced that you were either a thief or a devol?' and you replied, 'Pursue me, sir, before either Session or Presbytery, and I shall show that I am neither.' And now, Saunders, after all these interrogatories are considered, I rather think you did take these things yourself, and therefore you can get no testificat (certificate) until your business be further cognosed upon." 13th July, 21st Sept., and 26th Oct., 1712.--Complaint from Jean Howatson in Nies that Margaret Nivison in Crichen had called her "a witch and a resetter of witches." Both rebuked for their "scandelous and offensive expressions," and "Injoyned to abstain from any such offensive carriage in time comeing, certifying withall that if they be found quarrolling with one another unjustly this process shall be revived again upon them." _Indirect references affecting Durisdeer and Torthorwald._ _Parish of Durisdeer._--In 1591 a member of the family of Douglas of Drumlanrig, "Barbara Naipar, spous to Archibald Douglas," was accused of witchcraft and condemned to be burned on the Castle Hill of Edinburgh. Examination of the indictment shows that the charge was really implication in the crime by countenancing and seeking help from "users and abusers of witchcraft," which, as we have seen, carried with it the extreme penalty. The following is the extract from Pitcairn's _Criminal Trials_:-- "May 8, 1591.--Barbara Naipar, spous to Archibald Douglas, burges of Edinburgh (brother to the Laird of Carschogill), Dilaitit of sindrie poyntis of witchcraft, contenit in Dittay gewin in against hir be Mr David M'gill of Cranstoun--Rydell, advocat to our soverane lord. "The Assyse, be the mouth of Robert Cuningham, chancillor, ffand, pronunceit, and declarit the said Barbara Naipar to be fylit, culpabill and convict of the seiking of consultation from Annie Sampsoune, ane wich, for the help of Dame Jeane Lyonne, Lady Angus, to keip hir from vomiting quhen sche was in breeding of barne. Item, for the consulting with the said Annie Sampsoune, for causing of the said Dame Jeane Lyonne, Lady Angus, to love hir, and to gif hir the geir awin hir agayne, and geiving of ane ring for this purpois to the said Anny, quhill sche had send her ane courchie (kerchief) of linning and swa for contravening of the Act of Parliament, in consulting with hir and seiking of hir help, being ane wich, &c." "Dome was pronunceit against Barbara Naipar, the sister-in-law of the Laird of Coshogle."[17] _Torthorwald, 1596._--As Saul consulted the Witch of Endor, so in later days was the powers of witchcraft invoked by the most exalted to find out what fate or fortune the future held for them. Of the wife of Captain James Stewart, Earl of Arran, it is told "that she got a response from the witches that she would be the greatest woman in Scotland, and that her husband should have the highest head in that kingdom. Both which fell out; for she died, being all swelled out in an extraordinary manner; and he, riding to the south, was pursued by the Lord Torthoral (called Douglas[18]), whose whole family the said Captain James intended to have extirpated, and was killed, and his head carried on the point of a spear and placed upon the battlements of Torthorwald Castle."(49) [Illustration] _CHAPTER IV._ FAIRIES AND BROWNIES. "There's als much virtue, sense, and pith, In Annan or the Water of Nith, Which quietly slips by Dumfries, Als any water in all Greece; For there, and several other places, About mill-dams, and green brae faces, Both eldrich elfs and brownies stayed, And green-gowned fairies daunced and played." --_Effigies Clericorum._ No part of the folk-lore of a district finds more favour than that particular vestige which tells of the doings of "fairies and brownies," the mere expression "fairy" at once calling up and suggesting green-clad dainty figures, dwelling amid picturesque sylvan surroundings; although probably the memory of the "brownie," and the stories of his helpful midnight task, strike the more human note. It is the "fairy," however, outshining the humbler toiling "brownie," not only in gallant bearing and romantic surroundings, but in the further possession of greater supernatural power, that is the more fascinating survival of superstitious tradition. Popularly imagined, they were diminutive in form, elegant in appearance, and richly attired. They dwelt in a land of their own, in woodland dells where "Underneath the sylvan shade The fairies' spacious bower was made," or in beautiful palaces underneath the green conical mounds, so numerous, particularly in Galloway and the south-west of Scotland. Their lives and affairs were ruled by the utmost ceremony and grandeur. A King or Queen presided over their destinies. Their pageants and tournaments were the very reflection of Courtly gallantry. Processions were a frequent form of display; and clothed in exquisite green raiment, and mounted on bravely caparisoned milk-white steeds of the finest mettle, they passed with haughty mien and lordly air, that impressed to the utmost the minds of the mortals who might chance to meet them in all their pomp and bravery. The banquet-board and feast also were daily in evidence, and through their princely halls, to the most exquisite music, the stately dance went round. The attitude of the fairies towards mankind was, generally speaking, kindly and helpful, so much so that by the country people they were often termed the "good neighbours" and the "wee fouk"; but underneath all their display of nobility, an elfin craftiness and capriciousness of disposition existed, malignant to a degree. They did not, for example, ride unarmed, but had bows and arrows of peculiar power and potency slung at their sides ready to assail the too curious human being or menacing beast. The bows themselves were fashioned from the ribs of men buried "where three Lairds' lands meet," and the arrows, which hung in quivers made from adders' sloughs, were "tipped with deadly plagues." When mortals offended, it was on their cattle the fairies usually wreaked their vengeance by shooting them with their magic bows and arrows. Such elf-shot cattle exhibited all the symptoms of malignant cramp. Animals quite as innocent, but who, blunderingly unconscious, threatened to trample their diminutive bodies under foot as they passed along, were as summarily treated--at least that was a common explanation to account for puzzling forms of cattle-ill; for the wound of the true elf arrow was so small that evidence of penetration was almost impossible of vision, unless by the eye of those favoured and deeply skilled in fairy-craft practice. A less vague and more material description of the fairy arrows was, that "these fatal shafts were formed of the bog reed, pointed with white field flint, and dipped in the dew of hemlock." To this day the triangular flints of the Stone Age are associated with the fairy superstition, being popularly known as "elf bolts," and the occasional turning up of these flints on cultivated land, finds a superstitious explanation in the belief that a shower of these arrows discharged into a field was quite sufficient to blast and wither the expected crop. The special characteristic of the evil element in the disposition of the fairies was however, a persistent practice of kidnapping unchristened infants, substituting for them baby imps of their own, which in old-world phraseology were known as "changelings." Such changelings could only be detected and expelled by certain charms and mystic practice, which also permitted the real babe to be restored. The explanation of such kidnapping was that every seventh year "Kain," in the form of a living sacrifice from the ranks of the fairies, was demanded by Satan, their master, as the price of the supernatural privileges they enjoyed, but as a mortal infant was as readily accepted, the fairies naturally acted in accordance, much preferring to lay a human babe at the feet of the Evil One. Very naturally the thought of such disastrous possibilities to the domestic life and joy of the people created means and measures to render this particular design of the fairies impotent and inefficient. The cutting of a cross on the head of the cradle, or even over the doorway of the cottage itself, was supposed to "kep skaith" by means of its sacred significance; and immediately before the birth of a child it was a common practice to surround the expectant mother with everything about the household made of steel, such as scissors, wool-clippers, knives, needles, and so forth, which it was firmly believed kept the evil disposition of the fairy spirits at bay, and prevented any unhallowed tampering with the child. It was also customary for the friends of the house when the child was born, to form a guarding circle round it during the darkness of the night, while one of their number was specially employed in waving about the open leaves of a Bible. The risk of abduction immediately ceased after the child was christened. It may here be mentioned that at all times the sound of a church bell immediately broke the fairy power and spell. The abduction of human beings was not altogether confined to babes, and it will be remembered that James Hogg's fine ballad of "Kilmeny" is founded on a young maiden being carried off to Fairyland, who in the course of time is allowed to return to the world again when, as so beautifully expressed in the ballad, "Late, late in the gloamin' Kilmeny cam' hame." Young married women were more especially liable to be carried off, for the utilitarian purpose of nursing the fairy children, and young men were also occasionally supposed to be stolen away. It may be noted that it was not considered good for mortals to meet with fairies face to face, however much by accident. Death might even follow such a meeting, although apparently quite natural in form. Touching upon the very core of unreality of fairy semblance it would seem to have been a general belief, that seen through eyes of those gifted with supernatural power such as in olden days the "seers" were believed to possess, the whole fairy fabric crumbled to its true appearance. Golden treasure became ordinary stone, fairy palace changed to gloomy cavern, and the beautiful beings themselves became ugly and repulsive goblins. Before passing to gather up the remnants of this fairy-lore in Galloway and Dumfriesshire, it may be of interest to refer to the theory which has been advanced to account for the firm belief by our forefathers in the existence of "fairies and brownies," which briefly is, that fairies and brownies were none other than straggling and isolated survivors of the race of the ancient Pictish Kingdom of Scotland, for like the fairy and brownie of popular imagination, the Picts dwelt in underground abodes, being what is termed "mound-dwellers." They were a small people, untiring in their labours, and possessing great strength, or as it has been aptly expressed, "they were 'unca wee' bodies, but terribly strong." As well as being small in stature, they were hairy in body and fleet of foot. They were clever builders, as their underground dwellings excavated at the hands of antiquarians throughout Scotland yet affirm. Indeed there is a tradition that the 12th century Cathedral of Glasgow was largely built by industrious and skilful Picts, brought from Galloway for that purpose. A strong point in the theory certainly is, that the localities known as the prehistoric abiding places of the Picts are almost invariably associated with fairy-lore and tradition, which has floated down to us on the misty tides of time. At all events it may be in part at least accepted, in so far as it is founded on a basis of fact, and if it does not quite explain the splendour and high-born attributes of Fairyland, it at least goes far to account for the unvarying popular description of "Brownie"--his untiring energy, his shy disposition, and his not very attractive appearance, all of which William Nicholson has painted with strokes of genius in his matchless poem, "The Brownie of Blednoch."[19] FAIRIES IN GALLOWAY. The great distinctive headland of the Mull of Galloway is traditionally described as the scene of the last stand made by the Picts, as they were driven backwards and seawards to destruction by the overwhelming force of the Scots. "There rose a King in Scotland, A fell man to his foes, He smote the Picts in battle, He hunted them like roes, Over miles of red mountain He hunted as they fled And strewed the dwarfish bodies Of the dying and the dead." Not far from this classic spot, a favourite haunt of the fairies is located. South of Portankill there is a small fortification called the Dunnan. On this spot there came once upon a time to a man sitting there, on a fine summer evening, an old-fashioned looking, diminutive woman dressed in green, carrying a tiny ailing child on her back, and holding a little wooden water stoup in her hand. She earnestly asked this man to go to the far-famed and quite near "Well of the Co'" and bring her some of the healing water for the decrepit little morsel she carried, as she was tired and done. Churlishly enough the man refused, and roughly told her she could go her own errands. The little woman bore his abuse patiently enough, then, naming him, solemnly warned him "never again to sit down on her hoose-riggin' or he might look to it"--and then somehow she seemed to disappear. The man began to regret his ungracious conduct, all the more that it was generally believed that beneath the "Dunnan" lived the fairies, and if that was so, then at that very moment he was actually on their "hoose-riggin'." Much disturbed in mind, he made for home; but tradition affirms that from that day forward everything went wrong--cattle died and crops failed, and eventually, going one night to the Dunnan to watch a vessel that was likely to come ashore and so help his own evil plight, he was stricken with illness at the hands of the fairies--so the country-side said--and died. There is yet another rather dramatic relic of fairy-lore concerning Kirkmaiden, which tells of an attempt by the fairies to seize upon the newly-born child of a herd and his wife, who were in the service of Sir Godfrey M'Culloch, and who lived in a little cottage at Auchneight, which was frustrated by a timely call for Divine aid. On the afternoon of the day of his son's birth the herd received an urgent message to proceed at once to his master's castle of Cardoness, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright. There were many little domestic matters to attend to before the poor man could leave his wife and child to set out on his long journey, and the night was already well advanced before he left his home. It was not without anxiety and misgiving he took his way north along the western shore of Luce Bay, "down the path towards the Loup and the Co' of the Grennan," a place with a very uncanny reputation, for it was the night of the last day of October--of all times of the year the most dreaded by mortals--the night "When Fairies ... dance, Or ower the lays, with splendid blaze, On sprightly coursers prance." [Illustration: "IN FAIRY GLADE." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] It was very dark, and his progress was slow. When he reached the "Loup" he was rather startled to see a faint glimmering light seawards. To his consternation this came steadily towards him, and gradually took the form of a coach lighted with blue lamps, drawn by six horses, and coming smartly on. It passed, and he could see it was crowded with elfish figures and surrounded by a galloping body-guard. His terror was not abated when he was made aware that a little blue torch, a sure forerunner of death, was burning on the side of the track they had passed along. Meanwhile his young wife and child were all alone in the cottage. About midnight the mother, to whom the night seemed unending, was startled by hearing the trample of horses, the jingle of bridles, the lumber of wheels, and a buzzing sound of voices. Clasping the child close in her arms, terror-stricken she waited. The door of the cottage flew open. The whole kitchen was lit up with a strange unnatural light, and she saw her bed surrounded by a throng of little excited green-clad people, who kept up a constant chattering. Then one more richly clad and taller than the others imperiously waved his hand for silence, and addressing the almost crazed woman, said-- "This is Hallow-eve. We have come for your child, and him we must have." "Oh, God forbid!" shrieked the poor woman in her agony, and almost instantly there was darkness and silence as of the grave. When the poor woman came to her senses, for she had fainted, she made bold to leave her bed, and lighting her cruisie lamp, she was overjoyed to find that her child was sleeping sweetly and soundly. Everything in the cottage was evidently undisturbed. As some slight corroboration of this legend, it is told how the tenant of Barncorkerie, going to his door about midnight that same Hallow-eve, was startled to see a group of tiny horsemen riding in hot haste through the meadows a bowshot from his door. The story of the Barncorkerie Fairy, in this same immediate neighbourhood, illustrates how the good offices of the fairy aided an old helpless woman in her day of necessity at the expense of an undutiful son. On the road shorewards to Portencockerie Bay (Kirkmaiden) there is a bypath by way of what is known as the Bishop's Castle. One day there came by this road an old woman, weary of foot and sad of heart. Sitting down she wept quietly to herself, bemoaning her poverty and the unkindness of her son, and more particularly of his new-made wife, who scorned her and refused to give her even the bare necessities of life. With her eyes fixed on the ground, she almost unconsciously let her attention turn to a round whorl-like stone, with a hole through it, lying at her feet. Not attaching much importance to it she, almost absent-mindedly, picked it up, and as she did so she thought she heard some one whispering to her, but turning round and seeing no one she became a little frightened, and putting the curious little stone in her pocket, she rose to make her way home, which, by the way, bore the curious name of "Keekafar." That same night, at the gloaming, as she was lighting her cruisie lamp, the cottage door seemed to open of its own accord, and, looking down, she saw a diminutive little woman clad in green, who, with a pleasant smile, asked how she prospered? The old woman was a proud old woman, so she answered that she was getting along very comfortably. But the little old woman laughed a kindly laugh and said, "Not much comfort an' a toom meal-barrel in the hoose." The Fairy, for it was a fairy, chatted away to her for a little, and gradually won from her the whole story of her troubles; then, as she rose to go, she said, "If ye've still got that queer little stone ye fand to-day wi' the hole in it, just tie a little bit grey wurset thread through it, and lay it on the meal-ark. It'll maybes be a help." Next night, about the same time (as it afterwards appeared), the old woman's son Godfrey, who lived with his wife on his own little croft at Portencockerie, was startled to find when he came home a little tiny woman perched on a high stool at his fireside. "What want ye here?" he cried; and his wife, joining him, began to scold also. "Tak' yer gait, we want nae beggars here," she shouted. The Fairy looked at them steadily with her little grey piercing eyes, then stepping from the stool on to the long wooden kitchen settle she turned to the frightened man and woman, and in a tiny penetrating voice that made them even more frightened, said--"The poor folk! much they get at your hands! But thy old mother shall never want; she shall live at your cost. Her meal-ark will be always full, and yours shall supply it!" And so it came about. Godfrey and his wife, under the influence of fear, tried hard to make amends, but the old woman received their advances with the utmost indifference. The Compass Stone, on the hill above Port Logan towards the south, was also a favourite place for the fairies holding their gatherings, and there is a small field at Logan known as the Fairy Park. It is said that a large company of fairies were observed by two individuals, who at the time were not near each other, crossing the fields near Kenmure, in the parish of Stoneykirk. One of the individuals said they seemed to be all talking together, and there was a continual buzz of conversation as of a large assemblage of people gathered together. A hill between Ringuinea and the Float is associated with the fairies. Two young women went from Ringuinea one summer morning to bring the cows home to be milked, when they met what seemed to be a very beautiful child, whom they unsuccessfully made every endeavour to catch hold of. Skilfully, however, and with evident little exertion, the little figure eluded their grasp, with the result that their futile chase led to their being hopelessly behind time for the milking. Another story tells that the farmer of Ringuinea was going down the Black Brae, when he met a very small person handsomely dressed in green. Thinking it was a strange child, he enquired where he was going so early in the morning. The supposed child answered that there was an ox down below that had annoyed him and his people for a long time by always standing on the top of their dwelling-place, but that he would trouble them no more. The farmer proceeded down the brae, and found one of his best bullocks lying dead. He went for assistance, and proceeding to skin the bullock, and knowing what to look for, they found an elf-shot right through the heart. Kirkmaiden seems to have been a much-favoured district of the "wee fouk." The Nick of the Balloch, on the road from Barncorkerie to Castle Clanyard, Curghie Glen, and the Grennan were notoriously fairy-occupied; and between Kirkbride and Killumpha their imaginary tracks left on the stones and rocks used to be pointed out and traced. There is a curious lingering tradition in the Rhinns that the fairies of Kirkmaiden always wore red caps instead of green. Before passing from this district of the Rhinns, reference may be made to what was firmly believed to be the kidnapping by fairies of a little boy of two years of age. The child wandered out unperceived by its mother. On being missed, an anxious search was made during the whole day by almost every person in the neighbourhood, but no trace of the child could be found. Late in the evening, however, from the top of the heugh, beside Slock-an-a-gowre, he was discovered, by the merest accident, asleep on a green plot on the cliff far below, fully two miles from his home. How he got there to this day is a mystery. To assume that any person carried or left him there seems highly improbable, and to suppose the child to have of itself crossed dykes, drains, glens, and cornfields seems even more improbable. It was therefore attributed to the fairies, all the more that the little boy lisped that he had followed other little boys wearing green clothes.[20] Away midst the solitary grandeur of the high lands of Galloway, where the Merrick lordly towers, and where the bleat of the sheep and the cry of the whaup, the tumble and plash of burn and stream, are the only sounds that greet the shepherd's ear as he pursues his long and lonely beat, a beautiful fairy legend lingers, though human and homely enough in its trend:-- "A shepherd's family had just taken possession of a newly-erected onstead, in a very secluded spot among 'the hills o' Gallowa',' when the goodwife was, one day, surprised by the entrance of a little woman, who hurriedly asked for the loan of a 'pickle saut.' This, of course, was readily granted; but the goodwife was so flurried by the appearance of 'a neibor' in such a lonely place, and at such a very great distance from all known habitations, that she did not observe when the little woman withdrew or which way she went. Next day, however, the same little woman re-entered the cottage, and duly paid the borrowed 'saut.' This time the goodwife was more alert, and as she turned to replace 'the saut in the sautkit' she observed 'wi' the tail o' her e'e' that the little woman moved off towards the door, and then made a sudden 'bolt out.' Following quickly, the goodwife saw her unceremonious visitor run down a small declivity towards a tree which stood at 'the house en'.' She passed behind the tree, but did not emerge on the other side, and the goodwife, seeing no place of concealment, assumed she was a fairy. In a few days her little 'neibor' again returned, and continued from time to time to make similar visits--borrowing and lending small articles, evidently with a view to produce an intimacy; and it was uniformly remarked that, on retiring, she proceeded straight to the tree, and then suddenly 'gaed out o' sight.' One day, while the goodwife was at the door, emptying some dirty water into the jaw-hole (sink or cesspool), her now familiar acquaintance came to her and said: 'Goodwife, ye're really a very obliging bodie! Wad ye be sae good as turn the lade o' your jaw-hole anither way, as a' your foul water rins directly in at my door? It stands in the howe there, on the aff-side o' that tree, at the corner o' your house en'.' The mystery was now fully cleared up--the little woman was indeed a fairy; and the door of her invisible habitation being situated 'on the aff-side o' the tree at the house en',' it could easily be conceived how she must there necessarily 'gae out o' sight' as she entered her sight-eluding portal."(50) Probably the most characteristic fairy story extant in the whole south-western district of Scotland is that which centres round the green mound on which the ruined Castle of Myrton, a stronghold of the M'Cullochs in bygone days, stands. Within the policies of Monreith House, in the parish of Mochrum, on the beautifully-wooded shore of the White Loch of Myrton, this mound of Myrton is peculiarly interesting in the links its story joins of prehistoric days, fairy tradition, and seventeenth century family history. The following account is drawn from _The Hereditary Sheriffs of Galloway_:-- "Sir Godfrey M'Culloch, having squandered his patrimony and sold his estates in Mochrum to the Maxwells of Monreith, took up house at Cardoness. Here a neighbour, William Gordon, having poinded some cattle straying on his lands, Sir Godfrey joined a party illegally convened to release them. A fray was the result, in which M'Culloch, in the words of his indictment, 'did shot at the said Gordon with a gun charged, and by the shot broke his thigh-bone and leg, so that he immediately fell to the ground, and within a few hours thereafter died of the same shot wound.' Sir Godfrey fled the country, and some years after ventured on a Sunday to attend a Church in Edinburgh. A Galloway man was among the congregation, who, recognising him, jumped up and cried: 'Pit to the door; there's a murderer in the kirk!' This was done, M'Culloch arrested, tried, condemned, and his head 'stricken fra his body' the 5th of March, 1697." So say the _Criminal Records_. There is a very different local version of the story:-- Long before the fatal encounter, and before he had entered on the evil courses which led to his ruin, Sir Godfrey, young and curly, sat at a window in the Tower of Myrtoun watching the operations of a gang of workmen forming a new sewer from his house to the White Loch below it. Suddenly he was startled by the apparition close beside him of a very little old man whose hair and beard were snowy white, whose strangely-cut costume was green, and who seemed in a state of furious wrath. Sir Godfrey received him, notwithstanding, with the greatest urbanity, and begged to be told in what way he could serve him. The answer was a startling one: "M'Culloch," said the visitor, "I am the King of the Brownies![21] My palace has been for ages in the mound on which your Tower stands, and you are driving your common sewer right through my chalmer of dais." Sir Godfrey, confounded, threw up the window and ordered the workmen to stop at once, professing his perfect readiness to make the drain in any such direction as might least incommode his Majesty, if he would graciously indicate the same. His courtesy was accepted, and Sir Godfrey received a promise in return from the now mollified potentate that he, the said King, would stand by and help him in the time of his greatest need. It was long after this that the Knight of Myrtoun disposed of his enemy in the summary way we have already mentioned, and for which he was condemned to die. The procession had started for the place of execution; a crowd was collected to see the awful sight, when the spectators were surprised by seeing a very little man with white hair and beard, dressed, too, in an antique suit of green, and mounted on a white horse. He issued from the castle rock, crossed the loch without a moment's hesitation, and rode straight up to the cart on which Sir Godfrey, accompanied by the executioner and a minister, was standing. They plainly saw Sir Godfrey get on the horse behind the little man, who was no other than the King of the Brownies (and thus fulfilled his promise by arriving in his hour of need): the two recrossed the loch, and, mounting the castle rock, they disappeared. When the astonished crowd again turned their eyes to the cart a figure was still there, and wondrous like Sir Godfrey; it was, therefore, generally believed that he had met a felon's doom, and most people thought no more about it. A few only knew better, but these cared little to speak about the matter. At rare intervals, however, one of the initiated would impart the story to a friend, and tell how a head had rolled upon the ground, leaving a bleeding trunk upon the scaffold; then adding in a confidential whisper, "It was no' him ava; it was just a kin' o' glamour."(51) The presence of fairies was not unknown in the Whithorn district, and a realistic account of the last appearance of the fairies there has been preserved in _Droll Recollections of Whithorn_, by James F. Cannon:-- "A farmer's wife on the Glasserton estate was engaged in washing at a stream near her house, when a trig little creature of her own sex, and perfectly human in shape and general semblance, suddenly arrested her attention. The mistress stared with amazement at the mite of a body that stood by her side, and the astonishment of the former was not lessened when, with an appealing look on her tiny features, the elf solicited the favour of 'a wee sowp o' milk for an unweel wean.' They then entered freely into conversation, and walked together to the byre, where the Fairy was duly supplied with what she had asked for. She was very profuse with her thanks, and foretold that her donor would never be without a pinch of snuff (of all things) while she should require it. It was not a very hazardous prediction, nor did it give promise of great remuneration for the obligation conferred; but there was a note of gratitude in it which was thoroughly appreciated by her to whom it was spoken. I believe, however, there was an additional hint dropped that the milk pails of the elf's patroness would always be well filled, and her husband's field crops abundant."(52) A poetical version of the above tradition has been elaborated by Mr Cannon, and appears in the _Bards of Galloway_, under the title of "The Langhill Fairy."[22] "Riddling in the reek" was the common country-side expression for a rough-and-ready method of treating a fairy changeling so that it might be restored to its proper human constitution. A realistic account of such an ordeal is preserved in _Galloway Gossip_ (Wigtownshire). It sets forth how a child, whose parents lived in Sorbie village, behaved in such a fretful, passionate, and vixenish way that the parents were at last forced to the unwelcome conclusion that it was not their child at all, but a changeling. Much distressed they sought the advice of a wise woman living at Kirkinner, who plainly enough substantiated the suspicion. Beseeching her help, the sybil pointed out the great risk they all ran with interference with things uncanny, but on their consenting to place themselves entirely in her hands and implicitly obey her in every detail, she promised to make the attempt to restore their child on the following Aul' Hallowe'en Nicht. [Illustration: "RIDDLING IN THE REEK." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] "When Aul' Hallowe'en came, everything was ready and set in order, and just a few minutes before nine, in came Lucky M'Robert, and without saying a word steekit the door ahint her. She then set two stools beside the fire, which, as usual at that time and for long after, was made on a slightly raised place in the middle of the floor, paved with water-stones. She motioned Peggy and Jamie to sit down on them, and lighting the candle, with the ether-stane on it, put it on the kerl, or long candlestick, and set it between them, and then took the rowan-wood and biggit it on the fire. The wean looked terrified, and ran under the bed, but she pulled it out and tied his legs and arms together with some red clouts she had in her pouch, and threw't into the riddle, and lifting it up went towards the fire, the wean twining and kicking and swearing most viciously. Mally had previously breeked her petticoats, and as soon as a thick reek rose from the burning rowan-tree, she held the wean amang the thickest o't, and riddled it in the riddle till ye wud hae thocht it wud hae been chokit. The wean cursed and yelled, and spat at her, and called her a' that was bad, but she took nae notice; then it begged and fleech't with the father and mother to save't, for it was chokin', and went on pitiful, and then it begood and cursed them, and abused them terribly. Then there came knockings to the door, and cries and noisings all over the house; but she riddled away, and nobody ever heeded them, till at last the wean gave a great scraich, and rase out of the riddle, and gaed whirling up amang the reek like a corkscrew, and out at the lumhead, out of sight. Everything was then quiet for a minute or two, and at last a gentle knocking came to the door, and Mally asked who was there, and a voice cried-- 'Let me in, I'm wee Tammie M'K----.'"(53) The district of Dalry seems to have been particularly favoured by the beings of supernatural power. Witchcraft abounded, and now we shall see that Fairyland was represented. The place, above all, of fairy association was the Holm Glen, with which is associated a legend of the abduction of a youth, and an abortive attempt to win freedom after serving seven years. Round this vestige of fairy-lore Dr Robert Trotter has woven a well-told mantle of narrative, from which an extract is well worth quoting:-- "I rose early upon the morning of Hallowe'en, and having dressed myself, I went out to the harvest field, just as the minute hand of my watch pointed to half-past five. I began busily to arrange and set up the stooks, which a storm of wind and rain the preceding evening had blown down. I had not been long occupied in this manner when I heard the tramping of horses' feet, the giggling and laughing of the riders, and the jingling of their bridle bits. I instantly turned round to see what this troop of early travellers could be; but my eye rested not then on the broad holm of Dalarran and the grey turrets of Kenmure Castle, of which there was a goodly prospect from the place where I stood--but it fell upon the tall form of a young man standing close by my side, dressed in a riding-cloak of the lightest Lincoln green ever worn by a Nottingham Archer. By his side hung a hunting-horn of the purest silver, whilst his spurs and the diamond chased scabbard of his sword glanced clear and bright in the rays of the rising sun. 'I wish thee good speed, John Gordon,' said he in a well-known voice. 'I am thy old friend William Hoatson, who, thou mayest remember, was found drowned about seven years since in the Water of Taarfe, near Red Lyon. But I am not dead, as is generally believed, but was carried away by the fairies of Holm Glen, and a body resembling mine placed in the river ford. And I have been permitted to appear unto thee at this time, knowing that thou art a fearless man, and one that seeketh after the Kingdom of Heaven; and I request thee, in the name of Heaven, that this night thou wilt win me back to my family and to the world!' I expressed the happiness which I felt in meeting so unexpectedly with one whom I had so long considered to be dead. I shook him heartily by the hand, and offered him my friendship and assistance. 'Oh, John!' said he, 'this night will I be offered up a sacrifice in hell, and thou alone can save me from destruction.' He spoke this so mournfully that the tears trickled down my cheek, and I sobbed aloud. 'Wilt thou promise,' continued he, 'to come this night at twelve o'clock, unarmed and alone, and stand by this ancient thorn-bush, where thou wilt see forty-one horsemen riding past, everyone dressed as I am at present? Pull me down from the chestnut-brown steed upon which I ride, for I will be the last man of that gay troop. They will turn me into a variety of frightful shapes in thy arms, and lastly into the appearance of a red-hot coulter; but thou must hold me fast in the name of Heaven, for if thou let me slip from thy hands they will take thee soul and body, and I also will be lost for ever!'"(54) The conclusion of the story is not very happy, for John's courage entirely failed him. Through fear he refused his aid, but ever afterwards was haunted and crossed by the evil influence of the night-riding of the fairies of Holm Glen. Other places in Kirkcudbrightshire which have the lingering touch of fairy romance hovering around them are Hazelfield, Auchencairn, the Nick of Lochenkit, "where the fairies have been seen dancing in thousands by the pale light o' the new moon on her third nicht," and on the "rugged height of Bengairn." The last Galloway fairy reminiscence we shall quote before passing into Dumfriesshire illustrates the malignant side of their nature, and tells of the drowning of the Morrisons in Edingham Loch, near the present town of Dalbeattie:-- "A' the hale o' braid Gallowa' has heard the story of the drownin' o' hale ane-an'-twenty o' the Morrisons o' Orr, in the Loch of Edingham, nae farder gane than Yule was a seven year. Ye mind that year the frost held on frae Hallowe'en till Februar, and at Yule the ice was mair than thretty inches in thickness, and wad hae carried a' the fouk in sax parishes roun' wi' perfect safety. On that day mony a weel-fared, sturdy chiel had been busy plying the channelstane, wi' a' their skill an' might, frae early morn, and it was not till the last blinks of the sun had lang disappeared off Brownie Fells that the contest was putten aff till the following day, and ilka ane turned his face homewards. But they hadna ha'en their feet three minutes on the side when the moon glowered o'er the tappin o' Lotus, and showed the ice they had so lately left, clad wi' unco players frae side to side; and muckle mirth, din, and deray was there, bumpers o' the red wine were flowin' roun', and there tripped maidens, jimp and tall as yon rowan-trees by the burnie side and fairer than the snow on Logan braes. Swiftly the weary players returned to the margin of the loch, but nane durst venture on the ice for a considerable time. But there were three neibor lairds, in the three Mailins of Culloch, Cocklick, and Drumlane. A' the three were surnamed Morrison, and ilka ane had seven strapping sons, wha never feared skaith frae man nor deil, and sae they a' quickly joined the thrang. Bit strange to tell, the very moment the last o' the ane-an'-twenty was aboon deep water, the ice rent from en' to en' wi' a crack a thousan' times louder than thunner, and dancers, players, and Morrisons a' disappeared in the twinkling of an eye, and the ice again resumed its former solidity, without crack or flaw. And mony a time sinsyne has the midnight wanderer observed the loch covered o'er with light-footed dancers, blithely footing it on the limpid wave, and among them the three-times-seven youths, gaily clad in elfin weeds of sylvan green, and mounted on gallant steeds of the milk-white foam. Their spears are of the green bulrashes with targets of the braidest flutterbaus; they ha'e braid swords o' the segg, and cockades of the water-lily; but they ay tak' the gate lang or the first peep o' day, and the place they left retains no the sma'est prent o' their airie feet, nor nane can tell the gate they fled."(55) On the sharp descent of the Dalbeattie Road towards Dumfries there yet lingers the tradition of fairy song and music being heard 'mid the leafy surroundings of the Long Wood. FAIRIES IN DUMFRIESSHIRE. To Allan Cunningham we are indebted for several examples of fairy-lore gathered together in his own particular district of Nithsdale. The three following illustrate the expression of gratitude on the part of the fairies when a good turn was served, or a request complied with:-- "Two lads were opening with the plow a fairy-haunted field, and one of them had described a circle around a fairy-thorn, which was not to be plowed. They were surprised when, on ending the furrow, a green table was placed there, heaped with the choicest cheese, bread, and wine. He who marked out the thorn sat down without hesitation, eating and drinking heartily, saying, 'Fair fa' the hands whilk gie.' His fellow-servant lashed his steeds, refusing to partake. The courteous plowman 'thrave,' said my informer, 'like a breckan, and was a proverb for wisdom and an oracle of local rural knowledge ever after!' A woman of Auchencreath, in Nithsdale, was one day sifting meal warm from the mill; a little, cleanly arrayed, beautiful woman came to her, holding out a basin of antique workmanship, requesting her courteously to fill it with her new meal. Her demand was cheerfully complied with. In a week the comely little dame returned with the borrowed meal. She breathed over it, setting it down basin and all, saying aloud, 'Be never toom.' The guidwife lived to a goodly age, without ever seeing the bottom of her blessed basin. A woman, who lived in the ancient Burgh of Lochmaben, was returning late one evening to her home from a gossiping. A little, lovely boy, dressed in green, came to her, saying, 'Coupe yere dish-water farther frae yere doorstep; it pits out our fire!' This request was complied with, and plenty abode in the good woman's house all her days."(56) The advent of summer was an occasion of special rejoicing on the part of the fairies, and was celebrated by a triumphal march or ride known as the "Fairy Rade," which was accompanied by much, and brave, display. The ceremony usually took place on the eve of Roodmas (May 3rd), and the following account is supposed to have been narrated by an old Nithsdale woman to Allan Cunningham:-- "I' the nicht afore Roodsmass,[23] I had trysted wi' a neebor lass, a Scots mile frae hame, to tak anent buying braws i' the Fair. We hadnae sutten lang aneath the haw-buss till we heard the loud laugh o' fowk riding, wi' the jingling o' bridles an' the clanking o' hoofs. We banged up, thinking they wad ryde owre us--we kent nae but it was drunken fowk riding to the Fair i' the fore-nicht. We glowr'd roun' and roun', an' sune saw it was the Fairie Fowks' Rade. We cowered down till they passed by. A leam o' light was dancing owre them, mair bonnie than moon-shine; they were a' wee, wee fowk, wi' green scarfs on, but ane that rade foremost, and that ane was a guid deal langer than the lave, wi' bonnie lang hair bun' about wi' a strap, whilk glented lyke stars. They rade on braw wee whyte naigs, wi' unco lang swoaping tails an' manes hung wi' whustles that the win' played on. This, an' their tongues whan they sang, was like the soun' of a far-awa' Psalm. Marion and me was in a brade lea fiel' whare they cam' by us; a high hedge o' haw-trees keepit them frae gaun through Johnnie Corrie's corn, but they lap a' owre't like sparrows an' gallop'd into a green knowe beyont it. We gaed i' the morning to look at the tredded corn, but the fient a hoof-mark was there, nor a blade broken."(57) The accompanying almost idealistic fairy-tale accentuates the idea of the instinct of natural affection with which the fairies were always credited, and their preference for a human mother to nurse their offspring:-- "A fine young woman of Nithsdale was sitting singing and rocking her child, when a pretty lady came into her cottage, covered with a fairy mantle. She carried a beautiful child in her arms, swaddled in green silk. 'Nurse my child,' said the Fairy. The young woman, conscious to whom the child belonged, took it kindly in her arms and laid it to her breast. The lady instantly disappeared, saying, 'Nurse kin', an' ne'er want!' The young mother nurtured the two babes, and was astonished whenever she awoke at finding the richest suits of apparel for both children, with meat of most delicious flavour. This food tasted, says tradition, like loaf mixed with wine and honey. It possessed more miraculous properties than the wilderness manna, preserving its relish even over the seventh day. On the approach of summer the Fairy lady came to see her child. It bounded with joy when it beheld her. She was much delighted with its freshness and activity, and taking it in her arms, she bade the nurse follow. Passing through some scroggy woods, skirting the side of a beautiful green hill, they walked midway up. On its sunward slope a door opened, disclosing a beauteous porch, which they entered, and the turf closed behind them. The Fairy dropped three drops of a precious dew on the nurse's left eye-lid, and they entered a land of most pleasant and abundant promise. It was watered with fine looping rivulets, and yellow with corn; the fairest trees enclosed its fields, laden with fruit, which dropped honey. The nurse was rewarded with finest webs of cloth and food of ever-during substance. Boxes of salves, for restoring mortal health and curing mortal wounds and infirmities, were bestowed on her, with a promise of never needing. The Fairy dropped a green dew over her right eye, and bade her look. She beheld many of her lost friends and acquaintances doing menial drudgery, reaping the corn and gathering the fruits. 'This,' said she, 'is the punishment of evil deeds!' The Fairy passed her hand over her eye, and restored its mortal faculties. She was conducted to the porch, but had the address to secure the heavenly salve. She lived, and enjoyed the gift of discerning the earth-visiting spirits, till she was the mother of many children; but happening to meet the Fairy lady who gave her the child, she attempted to shake hands with her. 'What e'e d'ye see me wi'?' whispered she. 'Wi' them baith,' said the dame. She breathed on her eyes, and even the power of the box failed to restore their gifts again!"(58) The element of romantic imagery is also manifest in the following tradition:-- "A young man of Nithsdale, being on a love intrigue, was enchanted with wild and delightful music and the sound of mingled voices, more charming than aught that mortal breath could utter. With a romantic daring peculiar to a Scottish lover he followed the sound, and discovered the fairy banquet. A green table, with feet of gold, was placed across a small rivulet, and richly furnished with pure bread and wines of sweetest flavour. Their minstrelsy was raised from small reeds and stalks of corn. He was invited to partake in the dance, and presented with a cup of wine. He was allowed to depart, and was ever after endowed with the second sight."(59) A vivid example of the method of restoring a "changeling" to its own natural and innocent form has already been described in connection with Sorbie village, in Wigtownshire. The following, quite as realistic, describes a similar uncanny ceremony in Dumfriesshire:-- "A beautiful child, of Caerlaverock, in Nithsdale, on the second day of its birth, and before its baptism, was changed, none knew how, for an antiquated elf of hideous aspect. It kept the family awake with its nightly yells; biting the mother's breasts; and would neither be cradled or nursed. The mother, obliged to be from home, left it in charge of the servant girl. The poor lass was sitting bemoaning herself. 'Wer't nae for thy girning face I would knock the big, winnow the corn, and grun the meal!' 'Lowse the cradle band,' quoth the elf, 'and tent the neighbours, an' I'll work yer wark.' Up started the elf, the wind arose, the corn was chafed, the outlyers were foddered, the hand-mill moved around, as by instinct, and the knocking mell did its work with amazing rapidity. The lass and her elfin servant rested and diverted themselves, till, on the mistress's approach, it was restored to the cradle, and began to yell anew. The girl took the first opportunity of slyly telling her mistress the adventure. 'What'll we do wi' the wee diel?' said she. 'I'll work it a pirn,' replied the lass. At the middle hour of night, the chimney-top was covered up, and every inlet barred and closed. The embers were blown up until glowing hot, and the maid, undressing the elf, tossed it on the fire. It uttered the wildest and most piercing yells, and, in a moment, the fairies were heard moaning at every wonted avenue, and rattling at the window boards, at the chimney head, and at the door. 'In the name o' God, bring back the bairn!' cried the lass. The window flew up; the earthly child was laid unharmed on the mother's lap, while its grisly substitute flew up the chimney with a loud laugh."[24](60) A further narrative, bringing out the idea of gratitude for a favour, and resentment at insult, has been gleaned from the parish of Closeburn:-- "Two men were ploughing down, in Closeburn parish, when they both felt a strong smell of burning cake. One of them said in an off-hand kind o' way-- 'Yer cake's burnin'.' 'Make us a spurtle tae burn it wi', then,' said a voice apparently close at hand. The man, good-naturedly, did as directed, and laid the article down on the ground. On returning to the spot he found the spurtle taken away, and bread and cheese left in its place. He partook of both, and likewise gave some to his horses, but his companion would neither taste himself nor allow his horses to taste. An affront of this kind could not be overlooked, and he had not gone many steps until he dropped down dead in the furrow."(61) A noted fairy tryste in this Nithsdale district was the Ward-Law Hill, Dalswinton. It came to pass, however, that the green ring where the fairies had danced and gambolled became in the times of the Persecution a place of worship. On this account no longer could the fairy revelry and dance continue, and it was firmly believed in the district that sounds of lamentation and regret, proceeding from no earthly voices, were heard in the neighbourhood of this favourite fairy-haunt for many years afterwards. The gardens of Drumlanrig Palace (Thornhill) were also a reputed gathering-place of the fairies, who were often seen dancing in the gloaming in the glade opposite to Jock o' the Horn.[25] There is a "Fairy Knowe" at Sanquhar, described by Simpson[26] as "a beautiful little green knoll which overlooks what is called the Waird, ... formerly covered with the waving broom, with green spaces here and there, the dancing-places of the sportive fairies." The braes of Polveoch, at the west end of the Bank Wood, between Kirkconnel and Sanquhar, was also a favourite trysting-place of the fairies. "Here the good little folks assembled on May Day to celebrate the advent of summer; contingents came in from Kello Water, Glen Aylmer, and Glen Wharry, and when all had gathered together they rode merrily over the knowes towards the Bale Hill, in whose sunward slope a beauteous doorway was said to open for them, which they entered two at a time, the green turf closing over the last pair to get in."(62) In Annandale the great fairy strength and palace lay in the heart of Burnswark Hill. The reputation of these Annandale fairies seems to have been rather disposed towards evil than good. Young men as well as young women were carried off, the former to act as very slaves and beasts of burden. The following is the account of the abduction of a young woman belonging to Corrie:-- "One fair Corrie damsel, who was supposed to have died, appeared to her brother, and informed him that she was not dead, but kept in bondage among the fairies, who, when they carried her off, had left in the bed an image of her, which had been buried in her stead. She entreated him to repair alone to the barn on the following night, set open the doors, and watch there till the hour of midnight, when he would see three forms pass before him, of which she would be the last. She told him he was then to seize fast hold of her, to repeat certain words which she instructed him to use, and that he might thus effect her rescue. Unfortunately, the brother's courage failed him when the hour of trial came, so that the captive sister was never released from elfin thraldom and restored to her family."(63) It may be noted in passing that all the place-names in this district ending in "sheen" refer to fairy occupation of the land. _Sidh_ (pronounced shee) is a fairy, with the diminutive _sidhean_ (sheen), which more especially carries the meaning of Fairy Hill. Examples of these may be cited in Auchensheen, Colvend; Brishie, Minnigaff; Knocknishy, Whithorn; and Shawn, Stoneykirk. THE BROWNIE. The "Brownie,"[27] as already indicated, was a domestic spirit of a familiar and useful kind. Grotesque in figure, small in stature, but very strong, his presence and help were cheerfully accepted in the farm-steading or household he elected to serve. His self-imposed and often heavy task was always performed in the dark hours of the night. No work came amiss to Brownie--reaping, threshing, sheep-shearing, and gathering, churning, and even meaner kitchen drudgery--and all in the most disinterested fashion, a bowl of cream, or as Nicholson phrases it, "a cogfu' o' brose" being all that he would accept at their hands. The offer, indeed, of other than this simple food, or the leaving out for him of clothing, was fatal, and compelled Brownie, in obedience to some condition of his existence not understood, to forsake the abode of the gift-givers and depart, generally reluctantly, to seek other quarters. However arduous the efforts of the night it would seem that he was always finished in sufficient good time to drink his cream at leasure and blow up the smouldering embers of the fire to bask his full length in its warmth, for at heart Brownie was, when not actually working, much disposed to take his ease. At first cock-crow, however, he disappeared. Endowed with a life of many years, he seems to have been attached in some instances to the same family for generations, but his service was only given to good and worthy people, although isolated instances of help to the unfortunate poor were common enough experiences. He would also seem to have had the moral welfare of young folks at heart, and would seat himself at the kitchen fireside and listen to their chatter. He was singularly alive to unworthy intentions, particularly in connection with love affairs, which he took means of opposing in his own way. The prosperity of the family with whom he had attached himself was affected by their disposition and actions towards him, of which the following is an example:-- "A place called Liethin Hall, in Dumfriesshire, was the hereditary dwelling of a noted brownie. He had lived there, as he once communicated in confidence to an old woman, for three hundred years. He appeared only once to every new master, and indeed seldom shewed more than his hand to anyone. On the decease of a beloved master he was heard to make moan, and would not partake of his wonted delicacy for many days. The heir of the land arrived from foreign parts and took possession of his father's inheritance. The faithful Brownie shewed himself, and profered homage. The spruce Laird was offended to see such a famine-faced, wrinkled domestic, and ordered him meat and drink, with a new suit of clean livery. The brownie departed, repeating loud and frequently these ruin-boding lines-- 'Ca, cuttie, ca! A' the luck o' Liethin Ha' Gangs wi' me to Bodsbeck Ha.' Liethin Ha' was, in a few years, in ruins, and 'bonnie Bodsbeck' flourished under the luck-bringing patronage of the brownie."(64) In the olden days there was a brownie attached to the family of Maxwell of Dalswinton said to be so energetic as to easily perform the work of ten men, and threshing with such vigour as to keep the servants awake at nights with the dirling of its elfin flail. He seems to have been passionately devoted to the service of the Laird's daughter, a strikingly comely dame. A lover naturally appeared, and their meetings were made all the easier through Brownie's help, and eventually he saw his beloved lady married to a husband he heartily approved of. "In course of time the hour of need came nigh, and a servant was sent away to bring the 'canny wife.' The night was dark as a December night could be, and the wind was heavy among the groves of oak. The brownie, enraged at the loitering serving-man, wrapped himself in his lady's fur cloak; and though the Nith was foaming high flood, his steed, impelled by supernatural spur and whip, passed it like an arrow. Mounting the dame behind him, he took the deep water back again to the amazement of the worthy woman, who beheld the red waves tumbling around her, yet the steed's foot-locks were dry. 'Ride nae by the auld pool,' quo' she, 'lest we should meet wi' Brownie.' He replied--'Fear nae, dame, ye've met a' the brownies ye will meet.' Placing her down at the hall gate, he hastened to the stable, where the servant lad was just pulling on his boots; he unbuckled the bridle from his steed, and gave him a most afflicting drubbing." There is a sequel to this story which does not end happily: "It was the time of the Reformation; and a priest, more zealous than wise, exhorted the Laird to have this Imp of Heathenism baptised, to which he in an evil hour consented, and the worthy reforming saint concealed himself in the barn to surprise the brownie at his work. He appeared like a little, wrinkled, ancient man, and began his nightly moil. The priest leapt from his ambush, and dashed the baptismal water in his face, solemnly repeating the set form of Christian rite. The poor brownie set up a frightful and agonising yell, and instantly vanished never to return."(65) Allan Cunningham further tells of a brownie of a humorous turn of mind who held sway about Newabbey:--"The Abbey lands in the parish of Newabbey, were the residence of a very sportive one. He loved to be, betimes, somewhat mischievous. Two lasses, having made a fine bowlful of buttered brose, had taken it into the byre to sup while it was yet dark. In the haste of concealment they had brought but one spoon; so they placed the bowl between them, and took a spoonful by turns. 'I hae got but three sups,' cried the one, 'an' it's a' done!' 'It's a' done, indeed,' cried the other. 'Ha, ha!' laughed a third voice, 'Brownie has gotten the maist o't.'"(66) As indicating the great skill in gathering the sheep together, the following tradition lingers in Galloway of a brownie who had spent the night long at this task. In the morning not only had he the sheep together, but amongst them was half a dozen hares. "Deil tak' thae wee grey beasties," he muttered, when this was pointed out to him, "they cost me mair fash than a' the lave o' them." In Scottish literature the brownie has a distinctive place, his unique and wonder-creating personality being used with rare effect. It is, however, the particular part of Scotland we are dealing with--the south-west--that has produced the most typical examples, in prose as well as in poetry, for Dumfriesshire claims that fine Covenanting story, "The Brownie of Bodsbeck," while Galloway has yielded that inimitable poetical gem, "The Brownie of Blednoch," the quotation of which in full may fittingly close the chapter:-- THE BROWNIE OF BLEDNOCH. There cam a strange wight to our town-en' And the fient a body did him ken'; He tirled na lang, but he glided ben Wi' a dreary, dreary hum. His face did glare like the glow o' the west, When the drumlie cloud has it half o'ercast; Or the struggling moon when she's sair distrest-- O sirs! 'twas Aiken-drum. I trow the bauldest stood aback, Wi' a gape and a glower till their lugs did crack, As the shapeless phantom mum'ling spak-- "Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum?" O had ye seen the bairns' fright, As they stared at this wild and unyirthly wight, As he stauket in 'tween the dark and the light, And graned out, "Aiken-drum!" "Sauf us!" quoth Jock, "d'ye see sic een;" Cries Kate, "There's a hole where a nose should hae been; And the mouth's like a gash which a horn had ri'en; Wow! keep's frae Aiken-drum!" The black dog, growling, cowered his tail, The lassie swarfed, loot fa' the pail, Rob's lingle brack as he men't the flail, At the sight o' Aiken-drum. His matted head on his breast did rest, A lang blue beard wan'ered down like a vest; But the glare o' his e'e nae Bard hath exprest, Nor the skimes o' Aiken-drum. Roun' his hairy form there was naething seen But a philibeg o' the rashes green, And his knotted knees played ay knoit between; What a sight was Aiken-drum! On his wauchie arms three claws did meet, As they trailed on the grun' by his taeless feet; E'en the auld guidman himsel' did sweat, To look at Aiken-drum. But he drew a score, himsel' did sain, The auld wife tried, but her tongue was gane; While the young ane closer clasped her wean, And turned frae Aiken-drum. But the canny auld wife cam' till her breath, And she deemed the Bible might ward aff scaith, Be it benshee, bogle, ghaist, or wraith-- But it fear'dna Aiken-drum. "His presence protect us!" quoth the auld guidman; "What wad ye, whare won ye--by sea or by lan'? I conjure ye speak--by the Beuk in my haun!" What a grane gae Aiken-drum. "I lived in a lan' whar we saw nae sky, I dwalt in a spot whare a burn rins na by; But I'se dwall now wi' you, if ye like to try-- Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum? "I'll shiel' a' your sheep i' the mornin' sune, I'll berry your crap by the light o' the moon, And baa the bairns wi' an unken'd tune, If ye'll keep puir Aiken-drum. "I'll loup the linn when ye canna wade, I'll kirn the kirn, and I'll turn the bread; And the wildest fillie that ever ran rede I'se tame't," quoth Aiken-drum! "To wear the tod frae the flock on the fell-- To gather the dew frae the heather-bell-- And to look at my face in your clear crystal well, Might gie pleasure to Aiken-drum. "I'se seek nae guids, gear, bond, nor mark; I use nae beddin', shoon, nor sark; But a cogfu' o' brose 'tween the light and dark, Is the wage o' Aiken-drum." Quoth the wylie auld wife, "The thing speaks weel; Our workers are scant--we hae routh o' meal; Gif he'll do as he says--be he man, be he de'il, Wow! we'll try this Aiken-drum." But the wenches skirled "He's no' be here! His eldritch look gars us swarf wi' fear, And the fient a ane will the house come near, If they think but o' Aiken-drum. "For a foul and a stalwart ghaist is he, Despair sits brooding aboon his e'e bree, And unchancie to light o' a maiden's e'e, Is the grim glower o' Aiken-drum." "Puir slipmalabors! ye hae little wit; Is'tna Hallowmas now, and the crap out yet?" Sae she silenced them a' wi' a stamp o' her fit; "Sit yer wa's down, Aiken-drum." Roun' a' that side what wark was dune, By the streamer's gleam, or the glance o' the moon; A word or a wish--and the Brownie cam' sune, Sae helpfu' was Aiken-drum. But he slade ay awa' or the sun was up, He ne'er could look straught on Macmillan's cup;[28] They watched--but nane saw him his brose ever sup, Nor a spune sought Aiken-drum. On Blednoch banks, and on crystal Cree, For mony a day a toiled wight was he; While the bairns played harmless roun' his knee, Sae social was Aiken-drum. But a new-made wife, fu' o' rippish freaks, Fond o' a things feat for the first five weeks, Laid a mouldy pair o' her ain man's breeks; By the brose o' Aiken-drum. Let the learned decide, when they convene, What spell was him and the breeks between; For frae that day forth he was nae mair seen, And sair missed was Aiken-drum. He was heard by a herd gaun by the _Thrieve_, Crying "Lang, lang now may I greet and grieve; For alas! I hae gotten baith fee and leave, O, luckless Aiken-drum." Awa'! ye wrangling sceptic tribe, Wi' your _pros_ and your _cons_ wad ye decide 'Gain the 'sponsible voice o' a hale country-side On the facts 'bout Aiken-drum? Though the "Brownie o' Blednoch" lang be gane, The mark o' his feet's left on mony a stane; And mony a wife and mony a wean Tell the feats o' Aiken-drum. E'en now, light loons that jibe and sneer At spiritual guests and a' sic gear, At the Glashnoch Mill hae swat wi' fear, And looked roun' for Aiken-drum. And guidly fo'ks hae gotten a fright, When the moon was set, and the stars gied nae light, At the roaring linn in the howe o' the night, Wi' sughs like Aiken-drum. [Illustration] _CHAPTER V._ WRAITHS AND WARNINGS. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in our philosophy." --_Hamlet._ In the bygone days of a more primitive and simple life, widespread belief existed in the outward and physical manifestation of the call of Death, which took the form of what were commonly known as "wraiths" and "warnings." The "wraith" was the natural-looking semblance of one about to die, or just immediately dead, appearing life-like, usually at some distance from the body, but so realistic as to be unvaryingly mistaken for the actual person. A further point is, that such appearances gave rise to no fear or apprehension unless seen at some considerable distance from their usual surroundings. The "warning," on the other hand, refers to noises and sounds heard within the immediate precincts of the sick-chamber, but without any physical explanation or evidence of the cause, although the nature of the sound or other phenomenon might be simple enough in character. Such unusual occurrences happening under usual circumstances carried with them the superstitious significance of the near presence of death. In dealing, firstly, with the wraith, it may at once be noted that a great many accounts of such appearances are still existent in the south-west of Scotland. The following is a hitherto unrecorded instance which happened in the early twenties of last century in the neighbourhood of Dalbeattie:-- "In the late autumn of the year 182--, an old man, a cottar on a farm in the parish of Buittle, was raising a basketful of potatoes in his 'yaird,' on the rise of the hill slope that lifts itself into rugged prominence as it stretches towards Palnackie past Kirkennan Woods. His son William was away at Glencaple Quay (a distance of twelve miles as the crow flies) with a Water of Urr sloop unloading timber, and was not expected home before the end of the week. The old man had just finished his task when he very distinctly saw the figure of his son passing from the roadway and turn round the end of the house as if to go inside. Somewhat surprised, the old man lifted his basket and walked down the garden path into the kitchen, where his daughter Margaret was preparing the mid-day meal. 'What brings Wullie hame 'ee noo, and whaur's he gaun?' was the double query he put to his daughter. 'Guidsake, faither! what are ye talkin' aboot? There's nae Wullie here,' answered Margaret, startled out of her usual composure. 'But I saw him come roon' the house-en', and he had a queer drawn look aboot his face that fairly fleyed me! I houp there's naething happened him!' The old man, almost absently, looked at the brass-faced clock ticking in the corner between the fireplace and the white-scoured dresser, and saw that it was ten minutes to twelve. In the evening twilight a messenger rode up to the little homestead and broke the sad news of the death by drowning of 'Wullie,' a few minutes before twelve that day, when the tide was at its full, and almost at the very time that his father had seen his semblance, with drawn face, pass the house-en'. He had fallen between the side of the sloop and the quay wall, to almost immediately disappear, very probably having received serious injury as he fell." Another typical example may be cited from the Glencairn district, the folk-lore of which has been so exhaustively collected by Mr John Corrie:-- "One afternoon a well-known lady, Mrs G----, was setting out to call upon a neighbour who lived about half-a-mile distant across the moor, when she saw her friend, evidently bent upon the same errand, coming towards herself. Retracing her steps, she entered the house again to wait her friend's arrival. Her expected visitor not appearing, Mrs G---- went to the door to see what detained her, but although she looked in every direction there was no one to be seen. As the afternoon was now well advanced, Mrs G---- decided to defer her visit until the following day. Walking across on the morrow, she remarked in the course of conversation: 'I saw you on the way to see me yesterday! What made you turn half-road?' 'Me coming to see you!' exclaimed her friend, 'I can assure you I wasna that, for I was scarce frae my ain fireside the hale day.' A week later Mrs G----'s friend and neighbour died, and her corpse was carried to the churchyard, over the very track her wraith had appeared on the afternoon of her intended call."(67) At Dunreggan, Moniaive, as curious an instance happened some fifty years ago, when the father of a schoolboy, sitting at the fireside with his wife, saw the semblance of his son enter the cottage and pass "doon the hoose." Not greatly surprised, but still wondering, he called his wife's attention to the early return of the boy from school. Very sceptical, and assuring him that he must be mistaken, the good woman went herself into the room, to find nothing there, although she looked behind the door and elsewhere to make sure that no boyish prank was being played. Despite her assurances the husband was not convinced, and remained in a very uneasy state of mind, when soon afterwards his worst fears were realised, and the body of the boy was brought home, to pass through the kitchen to be laid upon the bed--"doon the hoose." MacTaggart, in his _Gallovidian Encyclopedia_, gives several examples, of which the following instance which happened to a very intimate friend, of whose intelligence and probity he had the highest regard, may be given:-- "Last vacans" (quoth he), "I gaed awa' to my uncle's, or rather my grandfather's, to stap a week or twa, and play mysel' amang the Moorhills, neive trouts, and learn twa or three tunes on the flute. Weel, I hadna been there ony time aworth till I saw as queer a thing as ought ever I saw, or may see. A'm out at the house-en' ae morning, about aught o'clock, and a bonny harrest morning it was: Weel, ye see, a'm making a bit grinwan to mysel' to tak' down wi' me to a deep pool that was i' the burn fu' o' trouts, and this I was gaun to do after breakfast time, for as yet I hadna gat my sowens. Weel, ye see, I'm tying on my grin wi' a bit o' wax'd thread, whan by the house-en' comes my auld grandfather wi' his clicked staff, that he ay had wi' him, in ae han', and in the tither his auld loofie o' a mitten, which he hadna as yet drawn on. He cam' close by me, and gaed a kinn o' a luik at what I was doing, then wised himsel' awa' alang the hip o' o'e hill, to look how the nowt did, and twa young foals, as was his usual wont. Weel, awa' he gaed; I was sae thrang when he gaed by that I never spake to him, neither did he to me, and I began to think about this when I was mair at leisure, and gaed a glent the road he tuik, just to see like how the auld body was coming on, for he was on the borders o' four score, yet a fearie fell auld carle, and as kine a body as ever I saw; sae I gaed a glent, as I was saying, alang by the scarrow o'e hill, and did see him winglan awa' by the back side o' the auld saugh Lochan. And in course o' time, maybe no' ten minutes after, I stepped my waes in to see gin I could get a cap or twa o' sowens and get off to the trouts; whan wha think ye's just sitting on the sattle-stane at the ingle-cheek taking a blaw o' the pipe--but auld granfaither. 'Lord, preserve me,' said I, and said na mair; I glowr'd about me awsomly. 'What's wrang wi' the boy?' (quoth my auntie). 'Come out' (quo' I) 'and I'll tell ye,' which she did. We gaed up the hill a bit, to be sure, as she said, o' the thing I had seen; we saw nought ava, and came back again in an unco way. That vera night granfaither grew ill, which was on a Saturday teen, and he was dead, puir body, or sax o'clock on Monday morning." From the Farm of Killumpha, in Kirkmaiden, comes another kindred episode:-- "The farmer's wife, Mrs Anderson, had gone to Ayrshire on a visit to her father. One night during her absence John M'Gurl, the cotman, was gaun through the close after dark to take a look at the horses and see that everything was right; for the outhouses were a good way from the dwelling-house, maybe three hundred yards. When he was crossing ower from the byres to go to the stable he saw a white-clad woman coming towards him, which he thought was very like the figure of Mrs Anderson, and he wondered if she had come back unexpectedly. She came quite close to him, and he saw plainly it was her, and stopped to speak to her, but she suddenly disappeared. Next night news came that Mrs Anderson was dead, and had died suddenly."(68) At Balgreggan House, in the same district, a young woman in the service of the house was much startled to meet, as she passed along a passage with a lighted lamp in her hand, the semblance of a gentleman of the house, attired in military dress, and whom she knew perfectly well was far from his home at the time. The local confirmation of the uncanny nature of the appearance bears that about the same time the gentleman had actually died abroad. The last example to be quoted has a personal interest, being an incident in the family history of the writer:-- One clear moonlight Sunday night, also in the early twenties of the last century, a young girl, who afterwards became my paternal grandmother, was returning home from a neighbouring farm in the near district of Dalbeattie. She was walking along, with never a thought in her head of anything approaching the supernatural, when to her dismay and consternation she was noiselessly joined by a figure in white, who passed through, be it noticed, and did not leap or jump over, a rough larch fence running along the roadside. The figure accompanied her along a short straight part of the road, then left her as noiselessly as it had approached. Taking to her heels, and with only the spur that terror can give, she reached her own door, to tumble into the farm kitchen and collapse on the floor. [Illustration: "AN EERIE COMPANION." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] The sequel of the episode is, that three days later, a coasting schooner, in which her brother was a sailor, was caught in a strong gale of wind whilst on the passage from Liverpool to the Water of Urr, and was never more heard tell of. My grandfather, or rather the lad who was to be my grandfather, scoured the Solway shore from point to point on horseback for several days, but all that the sea gave up was a small wooden chisel technically known as a "fid," used for splicing large ropes, and which bore the initials of the young girl's brother, and which is now in the writer's possession.[29] The "warning," at all events what is accepted as such, has many forms and varieties. Some of the more commonly accepted forms are the switch-like strokes, usually three in number, across the window of the sick-chamber, or even other windows in the house; the falling of pictures without apparent cause; the baying of dogs in the watches of the night; the footfall and apparent sound of footsteps in the house, heard overhead or coming along passages, or ascending or descending stairs, and so realistic that the door is expectantly opened, only to find nothing there; the stopping of clocks at the time of the passing of the spirit; and the noise as of approaching wheels and crunching gravel at the doors of country houses when death hovers near. Many examples and accounts of such things taking place are extant and seriously believed in; indeed, there is not a parish in the whole district we are treating of but on enquiry gives ample proof of the generality of belief in such portents. Belief in the switch-like strokes across the window is in this district, perhaps, the commonest of all. Of the footfall type an example may be quoted from Moniaive. It is told how an old lady, in her younger days in the service of a medical man in Moniaive, for a time heard persistent strange footfalls in an upper room of the house. The doctor afterwards was seized with sudden illness, lay down on a sofa and died over the very spot where the strange noises had been heard. Only the other day an account of the mysterious stopping of a clock associated with death appeared in the local newspapers, which may in part be given:-- "Mrs Stoba, who lived alone in a cottage at Greenmill, Caerlaverock, died suddenly during the night of Thursday last, from heart failure. Her blind not being drawn up on Friday morning, some neighbours forced the door about half-past ten, and found that she had passed away. It is a singular coincidence that an eight-day clock which had been her property, and is now in the house of her son, the burgh officer of Dumfries, stopped at five minutes before midnight on Thursday, although it was wound up, and there was no apparent reason for the stoppage."(69) A special form of warning is the "Licht before Death." In the parish of Tynron it is recounted how this mysterious light illumined up, on one occasion, the whole interior of a byre where a woman was engaged milking cows, and how afterwards she learned that her mother had died the same evening. Mr John Corrie (Moniaive) gives a good example of this form from the parish of Glencairn:-- "An old Glencairn lady, on looking out of the door one dark night, saw a strange light shining in the vicinity of a house where an acquaintance lived. Entering the house she commented on what she had seen, and expressed the hope that 'it wasna the deid licht.' Her fears were ridiculed, but next morning it transpired that a member of the family over whose dwelling the light was seen had committed suicide." There is another illustration from Glencairn, and perhaps a more valuable one, on account of the precision of its details:-- "Peggy D----, when going to lock her door one night, saw a light go past, carried, as she supposed, by a neighbour. There was nothing unusual in this, but there was a high stone dyke with a flight of steps in it close to the foot of the garden, and she was surprised to see the light and supposed light-bearer pass right through the obstructing fence as if nothing of the kind had been there, and although the ground below the house was very uneven, the light itself was never lost sight of for a moment. Peggy, rooted to the spot, watched the light go down through the fields, then along the public road until the churchyard was reached. When turning in that direction it passed through the locked gate with the same apparent ease that the other obstacles had been surmounted, and, entering the graveyard, became lost to sight among the tombstones. A week later Peggy D----'s daughter was carried a corpse to the same churchyard."(70) [Illustration: "DEID LICHTS." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] Other old and significant terms associated with the premonition of death are the "dead-watch," or "dede-chack," really the peculiar clicking noise made by wood-worms; and the "dede-drap," which was the rather eerie sound made by the intermittent falling of a drop of water from the eaves; and "dead-bell," a tingling in the ears, believed to announce a friend's death. Other expressions of a similar nature are the "dede-spall," which is the semi-molten part of the grease of a candle (so called from its resemblance to wood-shaving) when it falls over the edge in semi-circular form, and which, if pronounced, and turning with an appearance of persistence toward some person in particular, was supposed to indicate the approaching hand of death. Another curious term is the "dede-nip," whose origin is a little more puzzling. It is described as a blue mark which appears on the body of a person about to die and without the physical explanation of a blow. It is also associated with the "blew-spot" of witchcraft already described.[30] The following selected verses from "The Death of Dear-meal Johnny," by the Bard of Corrie (Dumfriesshire), are quoted on account of their reference to several of these old-world superstitious terms:-- "Oft his wraith had been seen gliding 'Mang the meal sacks i' the spence, Till the house, folks scarce could bide in, Terrified maist out o' sense. 'Neath his head the death-watch tinkled, Constant as the lapse of time; Frae his bed the dead licht twinkled, Wi' its blue and sulphurous flame. 'Neath the bed auld Bawty[31] scrapit, A' day, thrang as thrang could be; Made a hole, sae grave-like shapit, Folk glowered quaking in to see. On the dreary kirkyaird road, aye By night he raised sic eldritch howls; Weel he kenned his maister's body Soon must mix amang the mools. Frae the wattles dead-draps spatter'd; At the can'les dead-speals hang; Pyets rave the thack, and chatter'd; In folk's lugs the dead-bell rang." The last class of warnings to be noticed are special appearances and portents occurring before death in well-known local families. In the family of Kirkpatrick of Closeburn the tradition was, that when a death was about to take place in the family a swan invariably made its appearance on the loch that surrounded the castle. "The last omen of this nature on record saddened the nuptials of Sir Thomas, the first baronet, when marrying for the third time. On the wedding-day his son, Roger, went out of the castle, and, happening to turn his eyes towards the loch, descried the fatal bird. Returning, overwhelmed with melancholy, his father rallied him on his desponding appearance, alleging a stepmother to be the cause of his sadness, when the young man only answered 'Perhaps ere long you may also be sorrowful,' expiring suddenly that very night."(71) The death of a member of the family of Craigdarroch is believed to be heralded by a sudden and simultaneous peal of household bells. In Western Galloway there lingers a tradition concerning the old church of Kirkmaiden (in Fernes), the ancient burying-place of the M'Cullochs of Myrton, whose lands, in 1682, passed to the Maxwells of Monreith. When the parish ceased to exist as a separate parish and was joined to that of Glasserton, the pulpit and bell were removed to be taken across Luce Bay, there to be placed in the new church of the same name of Kirkmaiden. Although the day was fine and the wind fair, a storm sprang up, and down went boat and bell to the bottom, for, as true believers knew, the bell had been consecrated, and on no account could it ring 'neath the rafters of a Presbyterian building. Yet, ring it did not cease to do, for on the approaching death of any of the representatives of the old family of Myrton a solemn knell comes up from the watery depths to record the passing of the soul to the vast unknown. "An' certes, there are nane, I trow, That by Kirkmaiden bide, Will, when they hear the wraith-bell jow, Gae oot at Lammastide." [Illustration: A MIDNIGHT REVEL.] _CHAPTER VI._ DEATH CUSTOMS AND FUNERAL CEREMONY. "Or ever the silver cord be loosed." --_Ecclesiastes xii. 6._ When that sure hand called Death knocked at the cottar's or laird's door, or stalked with unhalting step into moorland farm or upland home to beckon away some weary inmate, the actual decease, or passing, was of itself associated with significant observance. The nearest relative bent down to the dying face to receive the last breath. The door was kept ajar,[32] although not too wide, that the spirit might be untrammelled in its flight.[33] The spirit fled the poor dead eyes were closed, also by the nearest relative, and generally kept so by means of copper coins placed upon them. The looking-glass in the death-chamber was covered with a white cloth. The clock was stopped, or at least the striking-weight removed. The daily routine of work was discontinued, such days of enforced idleness being known as the "dead days." On the farm, for example, no matter the season, the appropriate labour of ploughing, seed sowing, or even harvest, at once ceased. The household companions of dog and cat were rigidly excluded from the stricken house; indeed, it was not uncommon for the cat to be imprisoned beneath an inverted tub, for it was believed that if either of these animals should jump or cross over the dead body, the welfare of the spirit of the deceased would certainly be affected. The body was then washed, and dressed in its last garments, the hands of females being crossed over the breast, those of the other sex being extended by the sides. Last of all a plate of salt was placed upon the breast, either from the higher idea of future life being signified by the salt, which is the emblem of perpetuity, or from a more practical notion, however unlikely, that by this means the body would be prevented from swelling. Of the curious custom of "sin-eating"--that is, the placing of a piece of bread upon the salt by a recognised individual known as the sin-eater, who, for money reward, at the same time partook of it, thereby, as it was believed, absorbing to himself all the sins of the deceased--there is little to be gleaned in this district. The term "dishaloof" still exists, however, as a vestige of the custom in lowland Scotland.(72) There falls to be mentioned here a quaint superstition associated with "bee folklore," as described by the late Patrick Dudgeon, Esq. of Cargen, Kirkcudbrightshire, who specially studied this matter. The custom was, when a death took place, to at once go to the bee-hives, or skeps, and whisper the tidings of the sad event to the bees. This was followed by "putting the bees in mourning"--that is, attaching black ribbons to each of the skeps.[34] Mr Dudgeon, in a paper on the subject,(73) observes that "the custom was very general some time ago, and several of my correspondents mention instances of old people having seen it observed. It is not altogether extinct yet." The last toilet completed, it was the usual custom for friends and neighbours to manifest their sympathy by watching, or "waulking," the dead. Through the long hours of night, by the glimmering candle-light at the silent bedside, this was really a service that called for some resolution, as tales of dead bodies coming back to life were fully believed in these superstitious days. Occasionally special candles were used for "the watching," known as Yule candles. These were the remains of specially large candles burned at Yule, and extinguished at the close of the day, what was left of the candle being carefully preserved and locked away, to be burned at the owners' own "waulking." Visiting the house of the dead for the sake of seeing the corpse was a regular practice, and, it may be added, that to touch the corpse was considered a sure safeguard against all eerie dreams of death and ghostly trappings, as well as a counter-influence to illness and disease. With the encoffining, or "kistin'" of the dead, a further, stage was reached. The ceremony was apparently religious, and one of deep solemnity, the minister, or one of his elders or deacons, attending to see the remains of the deceased placed in the coffin, to offer up prayer, and generally to console and sympathise with the bereaved. In reality, the official presence of the minister, elder or deacon, was directly due to an Act of Parliament,[35] actually framed and passed, incongruous as it may appear, for the "improvement of Linen manufacture within the Kingdom." The clerical representative was present in the house of mourning, to be fully satisfied that "the corpse was shrouded in home made linen, and that not exceeding in value twenty shillings per ell." This curious Act had as curious a sequel, for, prompted by an evident spirit of fair dealing, the Linen Act was rescinded in the first Parliament of Queen Anne in favour of a "Woollen Act," insisting upon the exclusive use of "wool" as a material for shrouds, under exactly the same pains and penalties as the previous Act laid down to compel the use of linen. In course of time such rigid intrusive conditions, despite the law, came to be disregarded, and people shrouded their dead as they thought best, and in material of their own choice. It was, however, usual for the undertaker to safeguard those concerned in any such infringement by charging half the statutory fine in his account, taking credit to himself for the other half as being the informer against himself. This was usually entered as the first item of his undertaking expenses, being expressed in his bill against the relatives as: "To paying the penalty under the Act for burying in Scots Linen." The custom of relatives and intimate friends being at the encoffining or "kistin'" is to some extent associated with the "lykewake," or "latewake," of Roman Catholic usage. Although now quite unknown among adherents of the Scottish Presbyterian Church, such wakes were at one time common enough, even after the Reformation. They were, however, attended by such unseemly behaviour that in 1645 the General Assembly passed an edict to suppress them. [Illustration: FUNERAL HOSPITALITY. Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] That the custom still continued is brought out by the knowledge that in 1701 it was found necessary to revive and enforce the statute against the practice. The culminating feature of the rites of bereavement, the funeral ceremony, was in these old days (particularly between the years 1700 and 1800) an occasion altogether outstanding in social importance. It was an occasion, however, very often marred by the profuse liberality and use of stimulants, lavish hospitality in the house of mourning being too frequently followed by ludicrous and extraordinary results as the body was being conveyed to its last resting-place. "A funeral party," for example, "had wended their way for miles through deep snow over Eskdale Moor, bound for Moffat Churchyard. On arriving at the burial-ground it was actually discovered that they had dropped the coffin by the way, the back having fallen from the cart on which it was being conveyed."(74) Ten o'clock in the morning saw the commencement of the funeral ceremonies, this being so generally understood that no special hour was mentioned in "the bidding to the buriall." The setting-out for the churchyard, however, or the "liftin'," as it was termed, did not, as a rule, take place for several hours later, and in many instances not until well on in the afternoon. This delay, as well as giving ample time to partake of refreshment, was really meant to enable all the guests to gather together, many of them travelling long distances, which were not made shorter by bad roads or inclement weather. A precaution sometimes taken before the company moved off was to send someone to the top of the nearest height to signal when the horizon was clear and no more guests in sight. The place of entertainment was usually the barn. Planks laid along the tops of wooden trestles formed a large table, on which were piled up a superabundance of food and drink, while a constant feature of the entertainment was an imposing array of tobacco pipes already filled by the women who had sat beside, or watched, the dead body. It was not considered seemly for the women of the house to mingle with the male guests. The usual custom in Galloway and Nithsdale was for the women folk to sit together in a room apart. As the company gathered they formed themselves into relays--for the number of guests as a rule exceeded the accommodation of even the largest barn--and entered the place set aside for refreshment. This took the form of what were known as "services," and these in their usual order were, after each guest had been proffered a pipe of tobacco:-- (a) Bread and cheese, with ale and porter. (b) A glass of whisky, with again bread and cheese. (c) A glass of rum and biscuits. (d) A glass of brandy and currant bun. (e) Wine and shortbread (or burial bread). It was not, be it mentioned in passing, a very unusual thing for some of the company to enter the barn again, and undertake the "services" a second time. The natural consequence of all this is obvious, but to a certain extent the situation could be saved by the use of a private receptacle called the "droddy bottle," into which the liquor could be poured to be taken home, or at least carried outside. Before partaking of each individual "service" it was solemnised by the minister offering up an appropriate prayer, a clerical task which must have been trying in the extreme. As instancing the prodigality of preparation in the way of food, notice may be taken of a funeral in the parish of Mochrum, where two bushels (160 lbs.) of shortbread were provided, and it is quite unnecessary to suggest that the supply of spirits would be in proportion. The following account of funeral expenses, drawn from a Wigtownshire farmer's book of expenses in 1794, may here be included, as it affords an excellent illustration of how the expenses of an ordinary funeral were swelled by the amounts paid for alcoholic liquor:-- Mrs G.--One gallon brandy £0 18 0 15 gills gin 0 7 6 Six bottles of wine 0 17 0 One gallon rum 0 16 0 To the coffin 1 5 0 To the mort-cloath and grave digging 0 2 0 To bread 0 5 9 J. C. for biding and walking and other attendance 0 4 0 J. S. for whiskie and ale at sitting up 0 3 1 Of the expenses of funerals in a higher rank of life those incurred on the deaths of Grierson of Lag and his third son, John Grierson, afford full and interesting information. Mr John Grierson, third son of the Laird of Lag, died early in 1730, and to one Jean Scott the purveying of the meat and drink considered requisite for the friends attending the funeral was entrusted. The bill came to about £160 Scots.[36] When the Laird himself died, on the last day of the year 1733, there was a repetition of the feasting and drinking at the house of the deceased, at the kirkyard, and at an adjoining house, which had evidently been requisitioned for the accommodation of several of the gentlemen, among whom were Lord Stormonth, Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, Maxwell of Carriel, and others who had come from a distance to assist. The account begins two days before the death of the Laird, and ends on January 14. In round figures the cost of the meat and drink consumed at the Laird's funeral came to £240 Scots. The following are the detailed accounts:--(75) ACCOTT. OF THE FFUNERALS OF MR JOHN GRIERSONE. 1730. _To Jean Scott._ Feb. 23rd. 2 bottels clarit to these as set up all night wt ye corps £0 3 0 do. 1 bottel of brandy for do. 0 1 6 Feb. 24th. 1 bottel of clarit when the sear-cloath[37] was put on 0 1 6 do. 1 bottel clarit when the grave-cloaths was put on 0 1 6 do. At the in-coffining where the ladys was, 1 bottel clarit, 2 bottels white wine, and 1 bottel Cannary 0 6 2 do. In the beg room wt the Gentelmen before the corps was transported--2 bottels white wine 0 3 0 do. When the company returned--10 bottels clarit 0 15 0 do. 2 bottels brandy for Gentelmen's Servts. 0 3 0 do. 2 bottels clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 3 0 Feb. 26th. 1 bottel clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 1 6 March 2nd. 1 bottel clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 1 6 March 4th. 1 bottel clarit to Sir Robert's Servts. 0 1 6 March 5th. In the two rooms when at meat 22 bottels clarit 1 13 0 do. ffor the Servts. and Gentelmen's Servts., 4 bottels of brandy 0 6 0 do. at night when the Gentelmen returned--25 bottels of clarit 1 17 6 do. 2 bottels brandy to Rockhall wt bottels 0 3 0 March 6th. 2 bottels clarit at dinr wt Sr Walter Laurie and Cariel 0 3 0 do. Ale from the 23rd of ffebr., till this day 1 19 6 do. To 1 baccon ham 0 9 0 do. To a rosting piece of beef 0 6 6 do. To a rost pigg 0 2 6 do. To 2 rost gease 0 3 0 do. To 1 rost turkey 0 4 0 do. To a calf's head stwed wt wine and oysstars 0 3 6 do. To 2 dish of neats' tongues 0 8 0 do. To 2 dish of capons and fowls 0 6 0 do. To a passtie 0 7 0 March 6th. To a dozn. of tearts 0 6 0 do. To 2 dozn. of mincht pys 0 8 0 do. To 1 quarter of rost mutton 0 3 6 do. To rost veal 0 3 6 do. To 1 barrel of oysters, 6 limmons, and other pickels 0 4 0 do. To eating for Tennents and Servants 1 0 0 The following is a note of some of the items of expenditure at the funeral of the notorious Sir Robert Grierson of Lag himself:-- 1733. Decr. 29th. 2 bottles small clarit £0 3 0 do. 2 flint glasses 0 1 4 Decr. 30th. 4 bottles small clarit 0 6 0 1734. Janr. 1st. 12 bottles strong clarit 1 4 0 do. 3 bottles ffrantinak 1 6 0 do. 3 bottles shirry 0 5 6 do. 1 bottle more brandy 0 1 6 Janr. 7th. 18 double flint glasses do. 1 £ double refined shugar Janr. 8th. 4 dozn. strong clarit to the lodgeing 4 16 0 do. 6 bottles ffrantinak do. 0 12 0 do. 6 bottles shirry do. 0 11 0 do. 6 more double flint glasses to ye lodgeing do. 12 bottles strong clarit sent out to the burying place 1 4 0 do. 12 bottles more strong clarit at night to the lodgeing 1 4 0 Janr. 9th. 4 wine glasses returned from Dunscore Janr. 12th. 2 bottles strong clarit to the lodgeing 0 4 0 do. 10 bottles strong clarit wt Carriel & more Gentelmen 1 8 0 Janr. 14th. 2 bottles clarit wt Carriel 0 4 8 8 dozn. empty bottles returned The Wines amounts to 14 5 5 The Entertainments to 6 10 0 1734. ACCOMPT. OF HORSSES. Janr. 9th. 2 horses of Lord Stormonds, 2 nights' hay, oats, & beans £0 5 0 do. 2 horses 2 nights, hay, oats, & beans, Sr Thomas Kirkpatrk 0 5 0 do. the smith for Sr Thomas' horsses 0 2 0 Pyd. to Charles Herisse, smith, for iron work to the Hearse 0 5 6 Mr Gilbert's horsses 1 4 6 Grim legend clings around the account of Lag's last illness and his funeral. "During the latter part of his life Sir Robert had taken up his abode in his town-lodging in Dumfries. It was an ancient pile of building of singular construction, facing the principal part of the High Street of the town, known as the 'Plainstones.' This old house was called the 'Turnpike,' from the spiral staircase, a characteristic of it, as of many of the old Edinburgh houses; it was situated at the head of what was called the Turnpike Close, and little more than two hundred yards from the Nith. The best known of the many legends regarding Lag is this: that when he came near his end, and was sorely tormented with gout, he had relays of servants posted so as to hand up from one to another a succession of buckets of cold water from the Nith, that he might cool his burning limbs--but the moment his feet were inserted into the water it began to fizz and boil. In this old Turnpike house[38] Sir Robert died on the 31st December, 1733. It is related that on this occasion a 'corbie' (raven) of preternatural blackness and malignity of aspect, perched himself on the coffin, and would not be driven off, but accompanied the funeral cortège to the grave in the churchyard of Dunscore. Moreover, when the funeral procession started, and had got some little way on the Galloway side of the Nith, it was found that the horses, with all their struggles, and dripping with perspiration, from some mysterious cause could move the hearse no further. Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, of Closeburn, the old friend and comrade of Lag (and his relative), who was believed to be deep in some branches of the Black Art, was one of the mourners. This gentleman, the stoutest of Non-jurors, on this occasion swore a great oath that he would drive the hearse of Lag 'though ---- were in it!' and ordered a team of beautiful Spanish horses of his own to be harnessed in place of the others. Sir Thomas mounted and took the reins, when the horses instantly dashed off at a furious gallop that he could in no wise restrain, and abated nought of their headlong pace till they reached the churchyard of Dunscore, where they suddenly pulled up--and died."(76) When the funeral cortège did start, as already indicated, curious though quite consequent sequels were far from uncommon. Solemnity and deep drinking only too frequently ended in unaffected hilarity or even dissension. MacTaggart, in his _Gallovidian Encyclopædia_, has caught and well recorded the boisterous spirit of this grim funeral festivity, as the following graphic description amply shows:-- "At last the Laird o' the Bowertree Buss gaed his last pawt, was straughted, dressed, coffined and a'; and I was bidden to his burial the Tuesday after. There I gaed, and there were met a wheen fine boys. Tam o' Todholes, and Wull o' the Slack war there; Neil Wulson, the fisher, and Wull Rain, the gunner, too. The first service that came roun' was strong farintosh, famous peat reek. There was nae grief amang us. The Laird had plenty, had neither wife nor a wean, sae wha cud greet? We drew close to ither, and began the cracks ding-dang, while every minute roun' came anither reamin' service. I faun' the bees i' my head bizzin' strong i' a wee time. The inside o' the burial house was like the inside o' a Kelton-hill tent; a banter came frae the tae side of the room, and was sent back wi' a jibe frae the ither. Lifting at last began to be talked about, and at last lift we did. 'Whaever wished for a pouchfu' o' drink might tak' it.' This was the order; sae mony a douce black coat hang side wi' a heavy bottle. On we gaed wi' the Laird, his weight we faun' na. Wull Weer we left ahin drunk on the spot. Rob Fisher took a sheer as we came down the green brae, and landed himself in a rossen o' breers. Whaup-nebbed Samuel fell aff the drift too. I saw him as we came across Howmcraig; the drink was gaen frae him like couters. Whan we came to the Taffdyke that rins cross Barrend there we laid the Laird down till we took a rest awee. The inside o' pouches war than turned out, bottle after bottle was touted owre; we rowed about, and some warsled. At last a game at the quoits was proposed; we played, but how we played I kenna. Whan we got tae the kirkyard the sun was jist plumpin' down; we pat the coffin twice in the grave wrang, and as often had to draw't out again. We got it to fit at last, and in wi' the moulds on't. The grave-digger we made a beast o'." A notable exception to the practice of the period was the funeral of William Burnes, father of the National Bard, who was borne from Lochlea to Alloway Kirkyard, a distance of twelve miles, not a drop of anything excepting a draught of water from a roadside stream being tasted. The funeral festivities, however, did not end with the lowering of the dead into the grave. There yet remained the final entertainment at the house of the bereaved. If within reasonable distance at all the funeral party returned from the churchyard to partake of the entertainment known as the "draigie,"[39] or "dredgy." Again the drinking was long and deep, with results that can only too readily be imagined. But it must not be assumed that such scenes and proceedings passed without protest on the part of the Church and those who had the welfare of decency and morality at heart. The Presbytery of Penpont, for example, in 1736 issued the following warning to their own district:-- "Yet further how unaccountable and scandalous are the large gatherings and unbecoming behaviour at burials and 'lake-wacks,' also in some places how many are grossly unmannerly in coming to burials without invitation. How extravagant are many in their preparations for such occasions, and in giving much drink, and driving it too frequently, before and after the corpse is enterred, and keeping the company too long together; how many scandalouslie drink until they be drunk on such occasions; this practice cannot but be hurtfull, therefore ought to be discouraged and reformed, and people that are not ashamed to be so vilely unmannerly as to thrust themselves into such meetings without being called ought to be affronted." Despite protest and counsel, however, the custom of supplying refreshment to mourners in the form of "services" lingered until well into the nineteenth century. Much good was, however, done in the south-west district of Scotland by the firm position taken up by Dr Henry Duncan of Ruthwell, Dumfriesshire, a personality whose memory is still held in the highest esteem and respect. The method adopted was characteristic of the man, and is described by himself in the Statistical Account of his Parish:-- "The present incumbent fell on a simple expedient by which this practice has been completely abolished. Having engaged the co-operation of some of the leading men in the parish, he drew up a subscription paper, binding the subscribers, among other less important regulations, to give only _one_ service when they had the melancholy duty of presiding at a funeral themselves, and to partake of only one service when they attended the funeral of a neighbour. This paper was readily subscribed by almost every head of a family in the parish, and whatever was injurious in the practice was abolished at once, ... and, speaking generally, may be said to have effectually rooted out the former practice throughout the whole surrounding district" (March, 1834). After the funeral, certain old rites and customs were carried out. On the death of a tenant the mart, or herezeld (heriot, or best aucht) was seized by the landowner to substantiate his title. The bed and straw on which the deceased had lain were burned in the open field. Concerning this practice Joseph Train in a note to _Strains of the Mountain Muse_, describes how, "as soon as the corpse is taken from the bed on which the person died, all the straw or heather of which it was composed is taken out and burned in a place where no beast can get near it, and they pretend to find next morning in the ashes the print of the foot of that person in the family who shall die first." A short reference may here be made to the custom of burial without coffins. The spirit of economy went far indeed in these older days, for burial, particularly of the poor, took place either without a coffin at all, or they were carried to the grave in one of common and general use, from which they were removed and buried when the grave-side was reached. A doubtful advance upon this method was the introduction of the "slip-coffin," which permitted of a bolt being drawn when lowered to the bottom of the grave. A hinged bottom was in this way relieved, which left the poor dead body in the closest of contact with mother earth. The motive, of course, was economy, and its use practically restricted to paupers. On the authority of Edgar, author of _Old Church Life in Scotland_ (1886), it is gratifying to note that none of these uncoffined interments had taken place in the South of Scotland for at least 150 years. In this connection a story somewhat against the "cloth" may be given:-- "A worthy Galloway minister, feeling that the newly-passed Poor Law Act with its assessments was burdensome to his flock, seriously proposed to the Parochial Board of his district that to narrow down the rates a 'slip-coffin' should be made for the poor, out of which the body could be slipped into its narrow home. The proposal met with scant consideration, and during the rest of his lifetime the well-meaning man was known as 'Slip.'"(77) [Illustration: A GALLOWAY FUNERAL OF OTHER DAYS. Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] Before the days of hearses the coffin was borne to the grave on two long poles or hand-spokes. Over the simple bare coffin the "mort-cloth" was spread, for the use of which the "Kirk-Session" made a charge, the money received being devoted to the relief of the poor of the parish. As superstitious custom refused the rites of Christian burial to those who died by their own hand, so was also the use of the "mort-cloth" withheld. Until comparatively recent days the bodies of suicides were buried at the meeting of four cross roads, or at all events at some lonely, unfrequented spot, the remains having not unusually the additional indignity of being impaled by a stake practised upon them. It is of interest to note that the name of the "Stake Moss," Sanquhar, may be traced to this callous practice. A superstition of the churchyard itself that still lingers and is worthy of notice, is that the north side is less hallowed than the other portions of "God's Acre." The origin of this comes from the Scriptural description of the last judgment (Matthew xxv.), which tells how "He shall set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats on His left." A recent local writer has thus embodied the idea and its probable derivation:-- "This superstition (he says) is said to have originated in the New Testament story of the Day of Judgment, when the Lord on entering His house (the entrance of the old churches being at the west end, or on the south near the west) would separate the sheep from the goats--the former to His right hand, the south; and the latter to his left, the north. Our forefathers would not see their dear ones among the goats, 'for evil,' said they, 'is there.' This credulous imagining is not exemplified in the kirkyard alone. Many of our old pre-Reformation churches exhibit evidence of the superstition in the entire absence of windows in their north walls; and in general it would appear that in mediæval times there was a common belief in the evil influence of the north, and that thence came all kinds of ill. "In Sanquhar Kirkyard it is evident that the superstition prevailed until comparatively modern times, for there are no headstones on the north side of the kirk earlier than the beginning of the last century, all the older monuments being to the south of the kirk, and at its east and west ends."(78) To the simple earnest dweller in the country there comes at times the thought that brings with it a comfort all its own, that after "life's fitful fever" they will be quietly laid to rest underneath the green turf, within the shadow of the kirk itself. Of this the origin of Carsphairn parish, in the uplands of Galloway, gives telling proof; for in the year 1645 complaint was made to the Scottish Parliament that in the parishes of Dairy and Kells numbers of people had to be buried in the fields, because the houses in which they lived and died were twelve miles from a churchyard. The issue of this was, that the district of Carsphairn was erected into a separate parish, and the indignity of such burials came to an end. Before closing a chapter devoted to "death custom" and "funeral ceremony," the use of the "dead bell" must certainly be referred to. In these old days when methods of conveying news and information were restricted, it was the routine practice when a death occurred for the "beadle" (sexton) to go, bell in hand, around the district, pausing at intervals to ring the "passing bell"[40] more particularly in front of the houses of friends of the deceased, announcing at the same time not only the death but also the day of burial. The usual form of his intimation which, with uncovered head, he delivered was:-- "Brethren and sisters,--I hereby let ye to wit that our brother (or sister), named (name, address, and occupation), departed this life at ----of the clock, according to the pleasure Almighty God, and you are all invited to attend the funeral on ----." Particular reference to this custom in the town of Dumfries is given in the Itinerary of John Ray, naturalist, who visited the town in August, 1662:-- "Here (he says) ... we observed the manner of their burials, which is this: when anyone dies the sexton or bellman goeth about the streets, with a small bell in his hand, which he tinkleth all along as he goeth, and now and then he makes a stance, and proclaims who is dead, and invites the people to come to the funeral." On the day of the funeral it was again customary for the "beadle" to ring the bell, walking in front of the funeral procession ringing it as he went. This is also noticed by Ray, who notes that "The people and ministers ... accompany the corpse to the grave ... with the bell before them." This usage has passed to a form, common enough to this day, particularly in the country, of tolling the church bell as the funeral cortège approaches the churchyard. In the scarce _Book of Galloway_ it is recorded how "the beadle had rung the 'passing bell[41] on the bellknowe of Penninghame,' and it was heard again when the mourners approached the graveyard." The ringing of the "dead bell" had its origin in the superstitious idea that by this means evil spirits were held at bay. [Illustration] _CHAPTER VII._ GHOST LORE AND HAUNTED HOUSES. "There are many ghost stories which we do not feel at liberty to challenge."--_Sir Walter Scott._ Passing now to gather up the details of superstitious vestige as they present themselves in the form of ghost traditions and memories of ghost-haunted houses, we find in the district of Dumfries and Galloway much of interest to set forth. Traversing from Western Galloway to Eastern Dumfriesshire, gleaning as we go, the legend connected with Dunskey Castle, which yet in ruined solitude stands sentinel over the rock-bound shore and restless sea at Portpatrick, first calls for mention. The story goes back to the occupation of the Castle in the fourteenth century by Walter de Curry, a turbulent sea rover, who, becoming much incensed at the outspoken and fearless utterances of an Irish piper whom he had taken prisoner and compelled to his service as minstrel and jester, condemned the unfortunate man to a lingering death from starvation in the Castle dungeons. Tradition asserts, however, that the piper found his way into a secret subterranean passage leading from the Castle to a cave on the sea-shore, from which, however, he was unable to find egress, and where he perished miserably. Along this passage the troubled ghost of the piper was long reputed to march, backwards and forwards, playing the weirdest of pipe music, and so indicating, as was firmly believed, to the awe-stricken listeners above, the line of direction of the secret underground passage.[42] Perhaps the best-known Galloway ghost story is that of the Ghost of Galdenoch Tower, in the parish of Leswalt. The Tower was at one time the property of the Agnews of Galdenoch, but falling on evil days their name disappeared from the roll of proprietors, when it was used as a farm-house. For this, however, it was given up, for no other reason than that it was firmly believed to be haunted. The tradition as told by Sir Andrew Agnew is as follows:-- "A scion of the house had fought in one of the battles for the Covenant, and after a defeat had craved food and shelter at a house near the scene of the disaster. He was admitted by the owner, a rough blustering fellow of Royalist leanings, who allowed him to share in the family supper; and after a long crack over the incidents of the day, let him make up a bed by the ingle-side fire. The young soldier rose early, and was in the act of leaving when his host barred his access to the door, grumbling that he doubted whether he had been on the right side the day before. Convinced that he meant to detain him, the youth produced his pistol and shot his entertainer dead; then rushing to the stables, saddled up, and made his way to the west. Arrived safely at the Galdenoch, the fatted calf was killed, and having fought all his battles over again round the family board, he went to bed. But hardly had the lights been extinguished in the tower than strange sounds announced a new arrival, which proved to be the ghost of the slain malignant, who not only disturbed the repose of his slayer, but made life unendurable to all within. Nightly his pranks continued, and even after a change of owners the annoyance was continued to the new tenant and his family. One cold winter's night they sat round the kitchen fire playing a well-known game. A burning stick passed merrily from hand to hand: 'About wi' that! about wi' that! Keep alive the priest-cat!' The spark was extinguished, and the forfeit was about to be declared, when one of the party, looking at the hearth, which was now one brilliant mass of transparent red, observed, 'It wadna be hannie to steal a coal the noo;' but hardly were the words out of his mouth when a glowing peat disappeared as if by magic, leaving as clear a vacuum in the fire as when a brick is displaced from a solid archway. 'That beats a',' was re-echoed through the wondering group; and but a few moments elapsed before there was a cry of 'Fire' and the farm-steading was in flames. In the thatch of the barn that identical 'cube of fire' was inserted, and no one doubted that it had been done by the ghost. The range of buildings was preserved with difficulty by the united exertions of the party. The tenant's mother sat one morning at her spinning-wheel; an invisible power bore her along, and plunged her in the Mill-Isle burn, a voice mumbling the while, 'I'll dip thee, I'll draw thee,' till the old dame became unconscious. Great was the surprise of the family at dinner-time when grandmamma was missed. Every corner of the buildings was searched. The goodman and his wife became alarmed, while the lads and lassies ran madly about interrogating one another with 'Where's granny?' At last a well-known voice was heard--'I've washed granny in the burn, and laid her on the dyke to dry!' Away the whole party ran; and sure enough the poor old woman lay naked on the dyke, half dead with cold and fright. Several of the neighbouring clergymen tried to lay this ghost, but all in vain. If they sang, the ghost drowned the united efforts of the company. Eventually, however, it was laid by the Rev. Mr Marshall of Kirkcolm, already referred to as a zealous prosecutor of witches, by the almost unclerical method of roaring and shouting it down."(79) On the confines of Stoneykirk parish, in the Moor of the Genoch, there is a plantation locally known as "Lodnagappal Plantin',"[43] concerning which report tells of an apparition in the form of a headless woman who almost invariably carried a light for the dire purpose of luring the unwary to death in the treacherous moss-holes so numerous in the neighbourhood. Fuller details are available of yet another "white woman" and her unwelcome methods. Early last century, when the mail packet crossed from Portpatrick to Ireland, a carrier, who lived at High Ardwell, regularly journeyed backwards and forwards to Portpatrick to bring supplies for the district. On his way home he was more than once alarmed and troubled by a woman in white, who stopped his horse and even caused his cart to break down. Once, indeed, the horse was so affected that it became quite incapable of moving the load, compelling the carrier in great distress to unyoke, and, mounting the horse, to make for home. His fears were not much lessened by finding that the white lady was seated behind him. The appearances of the ghost became more frequent as time went on, and eventually the white woman manifested a desire to embrace the carrier, indicating that if he yielded even only to listen once to her whispered devotion he might be freed altogether from future interference. The carrier, after a good deal of doubt and hesitation, at last yielded, but, wishing to have some substantial barrier between himself and his ghostly lover, stipulated that she should come to the little back-window of his cottage on a particular night. The appointed time came, but the carrier, still very doubtful, had planned accordingly. Cautiously and partially was the window opened. The white figure was there. Bending down to what appeared to be the man's face--but what was really the skull of a horse held towards her--there was a swift savage thrust of the ghostly face and half of the protruding horse's skull was severed. Thwarted in this unexpected way, the evil spirit slunk away, muttering "Hard, hard, are the banes and gristle of your face!" At least that is what the tradition tells. Another tale concerns Auchabrick House, in Kirkmaiden, not far from Port Logan. The usually accepted story is pretty much as follows: The troth of a young lady of the house was plighted to a young gentleman whose fortune was not quite equal to his rank in life. It was the days of privateering, and to amass some means the young fellow joined an enterprise of this kind, and was fortunate enough to find himself aboard a superior and successful vessel. Whilst abroad he sent home to the lady of his heart a silk dress and a considerable sum of money. These, however, fell into the hands of an unscrupulous brother, who appropriated them to his own use. Perplexed at not receiving news from home and acknowledgment, the lover wrote again and again, but the letters were always intercepted by the brother. Disaster came, and the wanderer never reached home to learn the true state of matters, but his ghost came to haunt the place. Fasten the doors as securely as they might, it always obtained an entry, and the scratch of a ghostly pen was heard writing and rewriting the stolen letters. Different plans were tried to relieve this eerie state of affairs. On one occasion a Bible was placed behind the door through which the ghost seemed to pass, but this was followed by terrifying and distracting noises, while the house itself was shaken as if by storm and gale. It was also believed that the semblance of the ship on which the wanderer pursued his calling as a privateer was at times seen to sail along a field above the house. A variation of the main story is that it was a brother of one of the former ladies of Auchabrick whose shade haunted the place. He had fallen from his horse and been fatally injured, his ghost taking the form of a young man, booted and spurred, riding a grey horse. At Cardrain, in the same locality, there is another tradition of an apparition on horseback which time and again rode up to the house, made fast the horse to a rope hanging from the thatch, then wandered all through the place. In the neighbourhood of Tirally the shade of a departed medical man was believed to frequent and wander along the sea-shore. There is an authentic account of the house he occupied being of necessity given up by the tenant who succeeded him after his death, on account of the strange persistent and disturbing noises heard in it. Passing from the Rhinns of Galloway to the Machars, through the district of Glenluce, the surprising story of the Devil of Glenluce should naturally find a place. It will, however, be included in the Appendix, in all its quaintness, as it occurs in _Satan's Invisible World_, published in 1685. In the history of the town of Wigtown no character stands out in stronger relief than Provost Coltran, proprietor of Drummorall. In 1683, along with David Graham, brother of Claverhouse, and Sir Godfrey M'Culloch, he was appointed to administer the test to the people of Galloway, and was Chief Magistrate at the drowning of the Martyrs on Wigtown Sands (May 11th, 1685). His private character does not seem to have been beyond reproach, and it was commonly said that in his life time he had sold himself to the Devil. The story still lingers that at his death the windows of his house looked as if they were in a blaze of fire, clearly indicating to the popular mind that the Devil was getting his own, and for long afterwards his ghost, a terrifying figure snorting fire from his nostrils, walked the earth. Even the house where he lived and died was for many years avoided after night-fall. Not far from the village of Bladnoch, on the farm of Kirkwaugh, is a spot known as the Packman's Grave, round which a grim story lingers:-- "Tradition has it that an enterprising packman lived in or near Wigtown long ago. He had a consignment of cloth on board a vessel which put into a local port. The ship was plague-stricken, and the people in the district, fearing that the infection might spread by means of the packman and his cloth, seized both the merchant and his wares, and taking them to Kirkwaugh dug a deep grave, in which they were deposited--the packman alive. Even until lately people imagined they saw lights and heard knocks at the spot, which gets the name of the Packman's Grave to this day."(80) Near Sorbie is the farm of Claunch, concerning which there is an old-world memory of a spectral carriage and pair of horses. The origin of the tradition is unknown, but the following is an authentic account of its appearance furnished by a correspondent:-- "I can, however, recall the strange experience of one who avowed that it had come within his ken. He was a blacksmith by trade, and had been doing some work at the farm. It was a fine moonlight evening when he gathered his tools together and started on his walk to Whithorn, where he lived. It chanced that the farmer by whom he had been employed during the day accompanied him as far as the entrance to the farmyard. As they were crossing the courtyard, what certainly seemed a spectral carriage and pair of horses galloped past them, and in another moment disappeared as if it never had been. 'What in the name of wonder was that?' ejaculated the smith; to which the farmer replied-- 'It's mair than I can tell--but it's no' the first glint o't I hae gotten, although I haena seen't aften. But dinna ye come owre what ye hae seen--nae guid'll come o' talkin' aboot it.'"(81) The old parish manse of Whithorn, which adjoined the churchyard near to its main entrance, and which was demolished a good many years ago, had rather an uncanny reputation, but nothing very definite can be gleaned to explain this. It certainly was, however, avoided after darkness fell. A little short lane off the public road, between the north end of Whithorn and the Bishopton Crofts, is associated with an appearance denoting foul play towards a very young child. But the most important ghostly reminiscence that can be gathered in this locality refers to the ghost at Craigdhu, in the parish of Glasserton, on the shore-road from Whithorn to Port-William. The following account was communicated by a native of the district:-- "Many rumours used to be afloat in my younger days of people being terrified by some unearthly shape or other which was believed to show itself at Craigdhu. Such stories were, however, rather conflicting, some declaring that it was a spectre of human form and proportions, while others held that it was more like a huge quadruped of an unknown species; but I confine my notes to personal testimonies of three individuals whom I knew. The first of these was a hard-working farm servant, who insisted that he had seen the something--whatever it was--not once or twice, but repeatedly. The second testifier was a wood-sawyer, who had occasion to spend a night in the house belonging to the farm. His first consciousness of the ghost's presence was when he was ascending the stair to the sleeping apartment, which a companion and himself were to occupy. This was manifested by the distinct sound of a lady's silk dress passing him and his bed-fellow on their way to the garret which was to be their dormitory. But that, though eerie enough, was nothing to what was to follow. As soon as they had extinguished their candle and crept into bed _something_ leapt on the bed and dealt the unfortunate couple some well directed blows with what seemed like a heavy blunt instrument. The third witness was an ex-magistrate of Whithorn, who told that he was almost run to earth by the goblin. He was just able to evade it by reaching the farm-house door as he was actually being overtaken. Throwing himself against the door, he was admitted by the farmer himself without a moment's delay. The latter at once conjectured the cause of his breathlessness and terror--'Aye! come in, my frien', come in. I ken gey weel what has happened; but ye're safe here, an' as welcome as I can mak' ye, to bide till daylicht.'"(82) The roofless ruin of the little pre-Reformation Church of Kirkmaiden (in Fernes) in Glasserton parish, so beautifully situated on the very verge of Luce Bay, has among other associations a tradition of supernatural intervention and tragedy. Many tides have ebbed and flowed since the night of a merry gathering in the old house of Moure, the original home of the Maxwells of Monreith. As the evening wore on, some harmless rallying and boasting took place concerning bravery and indifference towards darkness and things uncanny. Among the guests was a young man in the hey-day of youth and recklessness, who rashly wagered that he would that very night, and without delay, ride to the Maiden Kirk and bring away the church bible as a proof that he had been there. Amidst much careless talk and banter he galloped off. The night wore on, but the young man did not return. As it was but a short ride from Moure to the Kirk the greatest anxiety prevailed. Next day, in a bleak spot, his dead body was found, as also his horse lying stiff beside him. Of robbery and violence there was no evidence, but the entrails of both man and beast had been carefully drawn from their bodies, and were found twisted and entwined round some old thorn bushes close beside them. It was afterwards found that he had reached the church and was on his way back. Some ten miles northward, along this eastern shore of Luce Bay, are the ruined Barracks of Auchenmalg, built in the days of the free-trade as a means of suppressing the traffic. A whisper of the old building being haunted exists, but further than that the idea is associated with some deed of violence in the smuggling days nothing very definite can be gleaned. Passing from Wigtownshire, by way of Kirkcowan, towards Kirkcudbrightshire, it may be noted that Dr Trotter has preserved a ghost story concerning Craighlaw House, originally a fifteenth century square keep, now the oldest part of a mansion-house of three distinct periods. The story conveys that the ghost appeared on one occasion by the side of the large arched kitchen fire-place, during the absence of the cook at the well. Much alarmed at the sight on her return she screamed and collapsed. Her master, sceptical of anything supernatural, fervently expressed the wish that he himself might meet the cause of the alarm, which he actually did, and shot at it with no effect, much to his own alarm. Dr Trotter adds that "since the ghost was laid everything has been quiet."(83) In Kirkcudbrightshire, still passing eastwards, the legends and eerie associations that cluster around Machermore Castle first meet us, and call for narration. The following details are taken from an article entitled "The White Lady of Machermore," contributed to the _Galloway Gazette_ some years ago by James G. Kinna, author of the _History of the Parish of Minnigaff_:-- "Pleasantly situated on the east bank of the Cree, about a mile from the town, Machermore Castle is a prominent feature in the landscape as the traveller approaches Newton-Stewart by rail from the south. For wellnigh three hundred years the grey old Castle of Machermore bravely weathered the storms, and it would have continued to do so unscathed had not modern times necessitated structural changes. The Castle now presents a happy instance of the blending of the old and new styles of architecture--an adaptation of the past to present requirements. It is a curious circumstance that although certain spots near Machermore Castle have always been associated with the name of the White Lady no one has ever actually seen the mysterious being. And yet there are few of the older residenters in the parish of Minnigaff who have not heard their grandfathers speak of her as a reality. Machermore Castle is believed to have been built about the latter end of the sixteenth century. Tradition says that it was at first intended to build the Castle on the higher ground, a little to the north-east of the present site, but that during the night the foundation stones were always removed, so that what was built during the day was carried off by unseen hands and deposited in another place. As it was no use to strive against the supernatural, the Castle was eventually built where the materials were always found in the morning. In the Castle itself was a room reputed to be haunted. In this instance the particular apartment was in the north-west angle, and was always known as Duncan's room. Projecting from the top corner of the outer wall in the same part of the Castle was the finely-carved figurehead of a man. A close inspection revealed the fact that the neck was encircled by an exquisitely-chiselled lace ruffle of the Tudor period. This piece of sculpture was always known as Duncan's head. On the floor of Duncan's room there was the mark of a bloody hand, distinctly showing the impress of the fingers, thumb, and palm. It was said that removing that part of the flooring had been tried so as to eradicate all trace of the bygone tragedy, but the mark of the bloody hand appeared in the new wood as fresh as before. From the history of Machermore at least this legend is ineffaceable, and the annals of the parish of Minnigaff are incomplete which do not contain a reference to this remarkable phenomenon. It is a good many years since the incident I am about to relate took place, but the circumstances are as fresh in my memory as if it had happened but yesternight; nor am I ever likely to forget my first and only visit from the White Lady. On that occasion I happened to be the sole occupant of Duncan's room, but as usage had worn off all prejudice against the occupation of that particular bedroom amongst the members of the household, little or no importance was attached to the general belief that the room was haunted. It was a midsummer night, and I had been asleep, but had awakened, and lay wondering what time it was, just as a clock on one of the landings struck twelve. As the last stroke died away I distinctly heard a footstep coming upstairs. All being perfectly quiet in the Castle at that hour, I could hear the slightest sound. Nearer and nearer to the door of my room came the midnight visitant, until it seemed to enter; but although the room was flooded with moonlight I saw no one come in, yet I was perfectly conscious that some mysterious presence was near me. I was not in the least frightened at the time. Although wide awake I could see nothing. A peculiar sound resembling the opening and shutting of a stiff drawer now came from the corner of the room where was the impress of the bloody hand. I then sat up in bed and called out, "Who's there? what do you want?" but got no answer. After this I must confess to feeling uncomfortable, a state which changed to something like positive fear as a rustling sound resembling that made by a silk dress passed out of the room. All this time the door remained closed. Nothing, therefore, possessing a material body could either have entered or left the room without its entrance or exit being noticed, but although I looked in the direction from which the moving sound proceeded nothing could be seen. It was with a sense of relief that I listened with bated breath and palpitating heart to the retreating footsteps as they slowly descended the stairs and gradually died away in the distance, and then all was silent again, ... and here the mystery rests." There is a tradition that somewhere about Machermore Castle there is buried under a flat stone a kettle full of gold: "Between the Castle and the River Cree Lies enough o' gold to set a' Scotland free." The spell of the White Lady for good or evil is exercised no longer in the ancestral home of the Dunbars of Machermore. Between Kirkdale House and Cassencarry, on the beautiful sea-girt road leading from Creetown to Gatehouse, there stood many years ago a little cottage in a sequestered situation among the woods, where a young girl was murdered by her sweetheart under the saddest of circumstances. In and around the cottage immediately afterwards unaccountable noises were heard, and the ghost of the unfortunate girl seen, which curiously enough, as the tradition tells, at once ceased when the young man was brought to justice. There is also a further tradition about a gypsy killing a woman near Kirkdale Bridge. At twelve o'clock at night, it is said, the ghost of a woman with half of her head cut off, and all clad in white, appears at Kirkdale Bridge, and slowly wends its way along the road and disappears by the wooded pathway leading to Kirkdale Bank.(84) This apparition is firmly believed in by folks in that locality. The district of Dalry has furnished us with tales of witch and fairy lore. Of ghost tradition there are also authentic details, of which the most important concerns the old mansion-house of Glenlee. The following details are extracts from a paper on the subject contributed to the _Gallovidian_ (Winter, 1900):-- "In the north of Kirkcudbrightshire, in the beautiful district of the Glenkens, on the banks of the Ken, nearly opposite to the village of Dalry but on the other side of the river, stands the fine mansion-house of Glenlee Park, at one time the residence of Lord Glenlee, one of the Judges of the Court of Session. Silent and solitary, and untenanted for years now except by a caretaker, this eligible residence has the reputation of being haunted by a lady who walks about dressed in grey silk. A lady, who is still alive, tells how the grey lady appeared to her one evening as she was sitting in front of her dressing-glass waiting on her maid to come and do up her hair. While looking into the mirror she became aware of someone or something behind her, and then saw a lady enter by the door of her room, pass across the floor, and disappear through a door which communicated with a dressing-room. As the house was full of company at the time she wondered whether some of the strangers had mistaken the way to her room; but she waited in vain for her return, and just as she was thinking of going to explore the mystery it occurred to her that there had been no sound of doors opening or of footfalls on the floor, nor was there any sound in the direction in which the lady had disappeared, and finally it struck her that the lady was not dressed like anyone in the house. On another occasion the same lady was sitting up with her husband, who was seriously ill, and during the night a kind of rap was heard on the door, or about the door, which roused her to go and see what it was. Upon opening the door a face stared at her, but spoke not, and passed silently along the dimly-lighted corridor out of sight. A guest at Glenlee, before going off to some entertainment one evening ran up to his bedroom for something or other, and to his surprise there was a lady standing at his dressing-table putting some finishing touches to her toilette. He at once withdrew, thinking that some of the ladies in the hurry of the moment had gone into the wrong bedroom. When he came down again they were all upon the point of departure, and called to him to come along--but before getting into the carriage he said, 'You have forgotten one of the ladies.' 'Oh, no!' they said, 'everyone is here, and but for your lingering we should have been off.' One evening at dark the butler was hastening down the avenue on some errand to the lodge-keeper's, when suddenly a lady hurried past him, and he heard nothing but a faint rustle as of her dress, or the faint flickering of the remaining autumn leaves in the breeze overhead. As it was at a time when all the ladies were supposed to be indoors curiosity piqued him to follow her and watch her movements. She hurried on without once looking round, and finally disappeared through a disused cellar door which he knew to be locked and rusted from want of use. Not till then did it strike the butler that there was anything uncanny about the lady that had hurried past him in the gloom of the evening. No satisfactory explanation of these unpleasant experiences has ever been established. Mr Blacklock, in his notes on _Twenty Years' Holidaying in the Glenkens_, makes mention of the Glenlee ghost, and adds that Lady Ashburton was said to have poisoned her husband, who was afflicted with _morbus pediculus_. 'Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap'--and there is a further tradition that Lady Ashburton's butler poisoned her in turn, in order to possess himself of some valuables which he coveted. [Illustration: THE HEADLESS PIPER OF PATIESTHORN. Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] The disturbances are chiefly connected with the old part of the house, the bedroom and dressing-room previously mentioned, which seem to be the chief haunts of this yet unlaid ghost." In the village of Dalry itself there stood a row of houses called Bogle-Hole, on the site now occupied by the school. In one of these houses a man was said to have poisoned his wife, and the ghost of the murdered woman has, according to credible authority, appeared even within recent years. The following singular story is connected with the lonely district of the Moor of Corsock: "Many years ago a drover, while making his way north and crossing that wild and thinly populated district which lies between the head of the parish of Parton and the Moor of Corsock had the following uncanny experience: He had left the Parton district late in the afternoon with the intention of reaching a farm-house some miles north of the village of Corsock. By the time he reached the path over Corsock Hill, however, it had become dark, and occasional flashes of lightning foretold that a storm was at hand. With loud peals of thunder, vivid flashes of lightning, and a downpour of rain the storm at last broke. The only shelter near at hand was some thorn bushes by the roadside, under which the drover crept and stayed for fully an hour, while the storm raged and the darkness increased. When the storm had somewhat abated the drover set out once more, hurrying as fast as the darkness would allow him. He had reached a very desolate part of the moor when his collie gave a low whine and crept close to his master's heels. The drover stood up for a moment to try and find a reason for the dog's behaviour, when down in the glen between the hills he heard what at first appeared the sound of bagpipes, which increased quickly to a shrill piercing wailing that struck terror to his heart, the collie creeping closer and closer to his heel whining in a way that showed he was as much frightened as his master. Standing irresolute, a blaze of blue light flashed right in front of him, in the centre of which appeared the figure of a piper, his pipes standing like horns against the background of blue light. The figure moved backwards and forwards playing the wildest of music all the time. It next seemed to come nearer and nearer, and the drover, now transfixed to earth with terror, saw that the piper was headless, and his body so thin that surrounding hills and country could be seen right throught it. A blinding flash of fire, followed by an ear-splitting clap of thunder, brought matters to a close for the time being, and the drover fell prostrate among the heather. When he recovered his senses the strange light had gone, and with it the headless piper. The storm had cleared off, and in due time he reached the farm, where he was put up for the night. When he told his story no one spoke for a moment or two, then the farmer's aged father broke silence: 'Aye, aye, lad, ye hae seen the ghost o' the piper wha was murdered on his wey frae Patiesthorn.[44] I hae had the same fearsome experience myself, tho' its mair than saxty years syne.'"(85) In the Dundrennan district of Kirkcudbright a persisted belief lingers concerning a headless lady haunting the Buckland Glen. The following narrative which has been handed down lends an increased interest to the tradition:-- Long ago a Monkland farmer, accompanied by one of his farm-lads, was on his return from Kirkcudbright at a very late hour. The farmer was riding a small Highland pony, the boy being on foot. It was about midnight when they got to that part of Buckland Glen where a small bridge crosses the Buckland Burn. They had just crossed the bridge when the pony suddenly stood up and swerved, almost throwing the farmer out of the saddle. "What's wrang wi' ye the nicht, Maggie--what's tae fricht ye, my lass?" "Eh, Maister, did ye see that?" whispered the lad. "See--yonner it's again!" The old man looked, and muttering to himself whispered, "Aye, it's there, laddie! It's a' true what hes been mony a time telt! That's the ghost o' the headless leddy wha was murdered in the glen in the aul' wicked times. We'll no gang by, but gang doon the lane and slip hame by Gilroanie." Turning the quivering pony they wended their way along the woods which thickly fringe the Buckland Burn, as it leads to the shore at the Manxman's Lake, and reached home without further difficulty than keeping in hand the frightened pony. The curious fact was a week later discovered that two disreputable characters had lain in wait, for the purpose of robbery or perhaps worse, at a lonely turn on the Bombie road about a quarter of a mile from Buckland Brig. They had learned that the farmer had been to Kirkcudbright to draw a sum of money, and, had the sudden appearance of the Buckland ghost not turned their path, another tragedy might have been that night enacted in the Buckland Glen. [Illustration: THE GHOST OF BUCKLAND GLEN. Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] Concerning the parish of Rerwick the account of "A true relation of an apparition, expressions, and actings of a spirit which infested the house of Andrew Mackie, in Ringcroft of Stocking, in the parish of Rerwick, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright in Scotland, 1695, by Mr Alexander Telfair, Minister of that parish, and attested by many other persons who were also eye and ear witnesses," will be found in its original form in the Appendix. One of the most interesting weird stories connected with Galloway, centres round a mansion-house in the neighbourhood of Castle-Douglas. A lady renting it for a few years tells how she was twice or thrice disturbed in the night by hearing a horse trotting round to the front door, and on getting up to look out of the window always found there was nothing to be seen, and nothing to be done but to return shivering to bed. Several years after, returning to the neighbourhood, she met the owner of the house, who asked her to go and see the improvements he had recently effected. On being shown over the house she was told that the room she had slept in had had the partition taken down between it and the dressing-room next it to make a large room, and strangely enough, when taking down the wall, a horse's skull was discovered built into the wall. The only connecting link to the above curious circumstance is that a former proprietor paid a hurried visit to the town of Dumfries at the time of the terrible epidemic of cholera (1832), the journey being naturally accomplished in these days on horseback. Unfortunately, he contracted the disease and died shortly after his return. Until some years ago a huge boulder lay at the roadside on the way from Dalbeattie to Colvend, not far from the cottage known as the "Wood Forester's." The story was, that this was the scene of foul play long ago, the victim being a woman, whose ghost afterwards haunted the neighbourhood in the black hours of the night. Bearing upon this, an exceedingly graphic account has been furnished the writer of such an apparition having been seen by the captain of a local coasting vessel[45] late one night as he was walking from Kippford to Dalbeattie. It made its appearance near Aikieslak, which is the next house to the "Wood Forester's," and not very far away. The figure walked in front, stopped when he stopped, and finally disappeared, to his intense relief, in the wood to the left. The parish of Kirkbean is particularly rich in ghostly record, no fewer than six haunted, or once haunted localities having been noted.(86) Traversing the parish from Southwick towards Newabbey, the first eerie place of note is a field above Torrorie known as the "Murder Fall." The ghost in this instance was that of a man who came to an untimely end by hanging. Between Mainsriddel and Prestonmill there is a sequestered part of the road known as "Derry's How," once reputed to be haunted by an evil spirit in the form of a black four-footed beast. The third uncanny place was a farm-house in this same immediate neighbourhood. The ghostly manifestation was here that of sound--well-defined sounds of footsteps passing along a passage to the foot of a staircase, pausing, then seeming to return along the passage again. The sound persisted for many years, and was recognised and described by different individuals always as footsteps, which of themselves were so natural as to give rise to no alarm. Between Prestonmill and Kirkbean--midway between the two villages--there is a small plantation, with, on the other side of the road, a larger wood. The road itself at this particular part forms a hollow. This natural arrangement of wood and road, known locally as the "Howlet's Close," was the reputed domain of a "lady in white," but so little can be gleaned concerning her appearance that even the origin of the tradition seems to be quite forgotten. The "Three Cross Roads" near Arbigland is the next spot of ghost-lore association, round which there lingers a rather romantic tale. A young lady, a member of the well-known family of Craik (of Arbigland) had fixed her affections upon a young groom in her father's employment, a lad of good physique and manners, but, of course, apart in social status. The course of true love, however, did not run true, the romantic attachment having a most tragic ending. One day a single report of fire-arms was heard, and soon afterwards the lifeless body of the young man, whose name was Dunn, was discovered. The law took the view of suicide having been committed, but it was generally believed in the district that a brother of the young lady, incensed at her devotion to one he thought so far beneath her, had himself taken the young man's life. This deed of violence took place at the "Three Cross Roads," and this was the place where the victim's ghost was afterwards reported to have been seen. Another part of the road on the confines of the parish, and near to where it enters that of Newabbey, is associated with the midnight wanderings of yet another "lady in white," but concerning this "poor ghost" also, tradition withholds her story. There comes down through the long flight of centuries, a curious old story of supernatural sequence to the tragic death of John Comyn at the high altar of the Minorite Friary in Dumfries (February 10th, 1306), when the impetuous dagger-thrust of the Bruce, followed by the death dealing strokes of Kirkpatrick and Lindsay, completed the all-significant tale of murder and sacrilege. The terrors of the day had passed, and night had fallen. With simple and earnest pomp the death-watch over the slain was being held by the troubled and anxious Friars. Wearily the hours dragged on. It was the dead of night, and many of them slumbered--all indeed, save one aged Friar, who, as the chronicler[46] tells, "with terror and astonishment heard a ghostly voice mournfully call out, 'How long, O Lord, shall vengeance be deferred?' and in reply an answering wail, 'Endure with patience until the anniversary of this day shall return for the fifty-second time,'" rising to the chancel roof with terrible clearness. The aged monk bowed his head, praying earnestly that evil might be averted, but it was otherwise to fall out. Fifty-two years have passed away, and the hand of hospitality is being extended in the fortress of Caerlaverock Castle. In the great hall the flickering firelight fitfully lights up the faces of two men who have been served with a parting cup of wine, for the hour draws late. The host is Roger Kirkpatrick, the guest James Lindsay, and they are the sons of Kirkpatrick and Lindsay, whose daggers despatched the Red Comyn. Goodwill and friendship evidently prevail as they rise to part for the night, but the rift is in the lute, and an ugly savage look comes to the face of Lindsay as he is left alone in his room in the west tower. An hour later a stealthy figure creeps up the eastern turret stair. There is a single well-directed thrust, and deep sleep becomes the deeper sleep of death, so sure has been the stroke that sends Roger Kirkpatrick, son of "Mak' Siccar," to his doom. A bridled and a saddled steed stands beyond the confines of the castle walls, and Lindsay, leaping to his seat, terror at his heart, rides into the darkness of the night. Daybreak comes, the alarm is given, and almost red-handed the murderer is taken, not three miles from the castle gates, from which he had deemed himself many leagues away. Hurried to Dumfries, doom is pronounced, and the common place of execution claims him for its own. The ghostly call of the night, "How long?" echoing through the monastery walls, is fulfilled. With the history of the South-western district of Scotland the life story of Sir Robert Grierson of Lag, or "Aul' Lag," as he is to this day called, is intimately associated. In a previous chapter we have dealt with the superstitious happenings at his death and funeral. Mention must now be made of a legend which concerns the passing of his soul, and which is not yet forgotten in Dumfries and Galloway. The year of grace, 1733, was wearing fast towards Yule, when one stormy night a small vessel found herself overtaken, at the mouth of the Solway, by a gale of wind that was almost too much for her. Close-hauled and fighting for every foot of sea-way she was slowly forcing her way up-channel against the angry north-west blast when a strange adventure befel her. In a lull following a savage squall the moon broke through the black flying cloud, lighting up the storm-tossed sea and revealing to those aboard another struggling sail far astern. Curiously the seamen gazed, but searching glance gave place to wonder, and wonder to fear, when they saw what had at first seemed a craft like themselves, come rushing onwards in the very teeth of the wind, and with as much ease as if running "free" before it. The moon dipped, and again darkness descended on the face of the waters, but not for long. Once again the moonlight pierced the curtain of flying cloud. Then was seen what surely was the strangest craft that ever sailed the tossing Solway sea--a great State-coach, drawn by six jet-black horses, with out-riders, coachmen, and a great retinue of torch-bearers, footmen, and followers, furiously driving onwards over the foam-crested waves. As the phantom carriage plunged nearer, the skipper, regaining some little of his courage, ran forwards, hailing in sailor fashion--"Where bound? and where from?"--and the answer came back, clear and distinct across the raging waters--"To tryst with Lag! Dumfries! from--Hell!" [Illustration: "TO TRYST WITH LAG." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.] A similar legend exists in connection with the death of William, Duke of Queensberry, appointed High Commissioner to James VII., 1685, and whose attitude towards the Covenanters is still remembered against him. "Concerning the death of the Duke of Drumlanrig, _alias_ Queensberry, we have the following relation: That a young man perfectly well acquainted with the Duke (probably one of those he had formerly banished), being now a sailor and in foreign countries, while the ship was upon the coast of Naples and Sicily, near one of the burning mountains, one day they espied a coach and six, all in black, going towards the mount with great velocity; when it came past them they were so near that they could perceive the dimensions and features of one that sat in it. The young man said to the rest--'If I could believe my own eyes, or if I ever saw one like another, I would say that it is the Duke.' In an instant they heard an audible voice echo from the mount--'Open to the Duke of Drumlanrig!' upon which the coach, now near the mount, vanished. The young man took pen and paper, and upon his return found it exactly answer the day and hour the Duke died."(87) Of Drumlanrig Castle itself, the writer of _Drumlanrig and the Douglases_ notes, that "like all old baronial residences, this castle was believed to be haunted by the ghosts of the dead. The most alarming legend was connected with what was known as the 'Bloody Passage,' where a foul murder had been committed, and the very spot was marked out by the stains of blood, which no housemaid's scrubbing could obliterate. It is the passage on the south side of the castle running above the drawing-room, from which a number of bed-chambers enter. Here, at midnight, the perturbed spirit of a lady, in her night clothes, parades, bewailing her sad fate, but by whom she had suffered tradition tells not. There is also a haunted room on the east side of the castle, on the fourth storey from the ground, where in former times fearful noises used to be heard." Passing from Thornhill to Moniaive by way of Penpont and Tynron a conspicuous land-mark is the truncated peak of Tynron Doon, the abrupt ending of the hill range dividing the valley of the Scaur from that of the Shinnel. Round Tynron Doon there linger memories of a spectre in the form of a headless horseman restlessly riding a black horse. The local tradition is, that the ghost was that of a young gentleman of the family of M'Milligan of Dalgarnock, who had gone to offer his addresses to the daughter of the Laird of Tynron Castle. His presence was objected to, however, by one of the young lady's brothers. Hot words followed, and in high wrath the suitor rode off; but mistaking his way he galloped over the steepest part of the hill and broke his neck, and so, with curses and words of evil on his very lips, his spirit was not allowed to pass untroubled to the realms beyond. In the adjoining parish of Glencairn the following ghost vestiges have been gleaned:--"At Auchenstroan and Marwhirn a white woman is seen; at Pentoot and Gaps Mill 'pens' a crying child (supposed to have been murdered) is heard. The Nut Wood at Maxwellton was long supposed to harbour an emissary of the Evil One, and woe betide the traveller who failed to gain the running waters of Cairn or Shinnel. Jarbruck and Kirkland bridges were also of evil repute."(88) In the district of Sanquhar there are numerous stories of supernatural appearance and ghostly visit. Connected with Sanquhar Castle, or Crichton Peel as it is otherwise termed, now a ruined remnant, there are two distinctive ghost legends. The first is concerned with the fate--in the far-off old unhappy days--of a servitor of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, who "suffered" innocently at the hands of the sixth Lord Crichton. In this instance the ghost was not seen, but manifested its presence by strange chain-clanking noises within the castle walls. The other is yet another "Lady in White," whose rare appearance foretold grief or misfortune to the Crichton family. The legend runs that it was the ghost of a young maiden who had been wronged and murdered by one of the Lords of Sanquhar. Littlemark, a small farm on the Eliock estate, three miles from Sanquhar, was the scene, some two hundred years ago, of the murder of a pedlar, who came into the district with a large and valuable quantity of goods carried on a pack-horse. The ghost which was supposed to haunt the neighbourhood was curiously enough not that of the pedlar himself, but took the form of the bundle or "pack" itself, moving slowly above and along the ground. Stories which tell of the visitations and appearances of the ghost of Abraham Crichton, erstwhile Provost of Sanquhar, are to this day well remembered in the district. A merchant in Sanquhar, he seems in life to have been a shrewd and active citizen, with the reputation of being very wealthy. In 1734 he became Provost, succeeding his brother in that office, and also inheriting the possession of Carco. But evil days came, and in 1741 he was declared a bankrupt. The deed which seems chiefly to have marked him out for unrest in the next world was the share he took in the abolition of the services in the old parish church of Kirkbride and of its existence as a separate parish. An actual attempt, at his instigation, to "ding doon the Whigs' sanctuary," to use his own expression, was frustrated by Divine intervention--it was said--in the form of a violent storm. The workmen were obliged to desist, and shortly afterwards Abraham met his death by a fall from his horse near Dalpeddar. With this as an introduction, let Dr Simpson continue the story as it is set down in the _History of Sanquhar_:--"Though declared a bankrupt before his death, the good people of Sanquhar were convinced that he must have somewhere secreted his money, and acted a fradulent part. On this account it was supposed that he could not rest in his grave, and hence the belief of his frequent appearances in the sombre churchyard, to the affrightment of all and sundry who passed near the burying-ground in the evening dusk. The veritable apparition of this worthy was firmly credited by the populace, who were kept in a state of perpetual alarm. Many a maid, with her milk-pail on her head, dashed the whole to the ground when the ghost showed himself at a kirkyard wall, and ran home screaming with affright, and finally fell on the floor in a faint. The exploits of the resuscitated Provost was endless. He assailed all who dared to pass near his resting-place, young and old, men and women. The consternation became universal, the attention of the whole district was directed to the subject, which, indeed, became a topic of discussion throughout the south-west of Scotland. Its merits were discussed also in the Edinburgh forum, and attracted the attention of the learned North Briton, Thomas Rudiman.[47] At length the matter came to a crisis, and it was found necessary to do something to allay the popular excitement. In those days it was believed that certain sacred charms were effectual in allaying a ghost, and that the charm, whatever it might be, was chiefly to be employed by a minister of the gospel. The next thing, then, was to find a person of this order who had the sanctity and fortitude necessary to accomplish the feat. The individual fixed on was a venerable minister of the name of Hunter, in the parish of Penpont. During the night he went to the churchyard, and on the following day gave out that he had laid Abraham's ghost, and that in future no person need have the least alarm in passing the churchyard, as he never again would trouble anyone. Mr Hunter's statement was implicitly believed, and nothing supernatural has since been seen within the ancient burying-ground of Sanquhar. To add to the seeming mystery which Mr Hunter wished to keep up, when questioned on what he had said or done to the spirit he replied, 'No person shall ever know that.' In order, however, to prevent all such annoyances for the time coming, and to retain Abraham more effectually within the bounds of his narrow cell, it was deemed prudent to keep down the flat gravestone with a strong band of iron or stout chain. This precaution, it was supposed, would keep the popular mind more at ease." To Poldean, in Wamphray, situated at the north-west corner of the parish, on the Annan, about five miles from Moffat, there is a curious old-world ghost reference in _Law's Memorials_, edited by Kirkpatrick Sharp. In the narrative, which is here given, Poldean is described as "Powdine in Annandale":-- "Also in the south-west border of Scotland, in Annandale, there is a house called Powdine belonging to a gentleman called Johnston; that house hath been haunted these fifty or sixty years. At my coming to Worcester, 1651, I spoke with the gentleman (being myself quartered within two miles of the house). He told me many extraordinary relations consisting in his own knowledge; and I carried him to my master, to whom he made the same relations--noises and apparitions, drums and trumpets heard before the last war; yea, he said, some English soldiers quartered in his house were soundly beaten by that irresistible inhabitant.... He tells me that the spirit now speaks, and appears frequently in the shape of a naked arm." Three and a half miles north-east of Lochmaben, on the banks of the Annan, stands the turreted ruin of Spedlins Tower, the old home of the Jardines of Applegarth. Grim, gaunt, and lonely, one of the best accredited ghost legends in the south-west of Scotland lingers round its walls. The story has been told many times, and the version here selected is that of Francis Grose, the antiquary, who described the Tower in his _Antiquities of Scotland_ (1789-91):-- "Spedlins Tower is chiefly famous for being haunted by a bogle or ghost. As the relation will enliven the dullness of antiquarian disquisition, I will here relate it as it was told me by an honest woman who resides on the spot, and who, I will be sworn from her manner, believed every syllable of it. In the time of the late Sir John Jardine's grandfather, a person named Porteous, living in the parish of Applegarth, was taken up on suspicion of setting fire to a mill, and confined in the lord's prison, the pit or dungeon, at this castle. The lord being suddenly called to Edinburgh on some pressing and unexpected business, in his hurry forgot to leave the key of the pit, which he always held in his own custody. Before he discovered his mistake and could send back the key--which he did the moment he found it out--the man was starved to death, having first, through the extremity of hunger, gnawed off one of his hands. Ever after that time the castle was terribly haunted till a Chaplain of the family exorcised and confined the bogle to the pit, whence it could never come out, so long as a large Bible, which he had used on that business, remained in the castle. It is said that the Chaplain did not long survive this operation. The ghost, however, kept quietly within the bounds of his prison till a long time after, when the Bible, which was used by the whole family, required a new binding, for which purpose it was sent to Edinburgh. The ghost, taking advantage of its absence, was extremely boisterous in the pit, seeming as if it would break through the iron door, and making a noise like that of a large bird fluttering its wings. The Bible being returned, and the pit filled up, everything has since remained perfectly quiet. But the good woman declared, that should it again be taken off the premises no consideration whatever would induce her to remain there a single night." Jardine Hall, the new home of the Jardines, to which the family had removed, is situated on the opposite side of the river Annan, its windows overlooking the old walls of Spedlins Tower. It also was by no means free from a share of the haunting of the dead miller, for during the time the Bible had gone to Edinburgh to be re-bound, the ghost, getting out of the dungeon, crossed the river and presented itself at the new house, making a great disturbance, and actually hauling the baronet and his lady out of bed. Some accounts indeed, say that so terrifying was its behaviour that the unhappy owner of Jardine Hall refused to wait until the Bible was repaired, but recalled it hastily before it reached the Capital, in order that its holy presence might quell the restless spirit and keep it confined to its dungeon. The Bible which plays so prominent a part in the story is an old black-letter edition, printed by Robert Baker, A.D. 1634. It is covered with old calf-skin, and inclosed in a massive brass-bound box made out of one of the old beams of Spedlins Tower itself, which, needless to say, is most carefully preserved. The spirited ballad of "The Prisoner of Spedlins," by Robert Chambers, may here not inappropriately be included:-- To Edinburgh, to Edinburgh, The Jardine he maun ride; He locks the gates behind him, For lang he means to bide, And he, nor any of his train, While minding thus to flit, Thinks of the weary prisoner Deep in the castle pit. They were not gane a day, a day, A day but barely four, When neighbours spake of dismal cries Were heard from Spedlins Tower. They mingled wi' the sighs of trees And the thud-thud o' the linn; But nae ane thocht 'twas a deein' man That made that eldrich din. At last they mind the gipsy loon In dungeon lay unfed; But ere the castle key was got The gipsy loon was dead. They found the wretch stretch'd out at length Upon the cold, cold stone, With starting eyes and hollow cheek, And arms peeled to the bone. * * * * * Now Spedlins is an eerie house, For oft at mirk midnight The wail of Porteous' starving cry Fills a' that house wi' fright: "O let me out, O let me out, Sharp hunger cuts me sore; If ye suffer me to perish so, I'll haunt you evermore." O sad, sad was the Jardine then, His heart was sorely smit; Till he could wish himself had been Left in that deadly pit. But "Cheer up," cried his lady fair, "'Tis purpose makes the sin; And where the heart has had no part God holds his creature clean." Then Jardine sought a holy man To lay that vexing sprite; And for a week that holy man Was praying day and night. And all that time in Spedlins House Was held a solemn fast, Till the cries waxed low, and the boglebo In the deep red sea was cast. * * * * * There lies a Bible in Spedlins Ha', And while it there shall lie Nae Jardine can tormented be With Porteous' starving cry. But Applegarth's an altered man, He is no longer gay; The thought of Porteous clings to him Until his dying day. The mansion-house of Knockhill, in the parish of Hoddom, was the scene of a tragedy in the earlier part of last century, which had the sequence of ghost visitation. It is referred to in the "Irvings of Hoddom," an interesting contribution to the family history of the district. Shortly the story is as follows:--A young man named Bell who had been surreptitiously visiting his sweetheart, one of the maids in the house, was heard by the butler, who shot him as he was escaping through a basement window. The butler was tried and acquitted, but Knockhill was afterwards haunted by the ghost of the victim so much that servants would not remain. At last the proprietor, then a Mr Scott, asked the Rev. W. Wallace Duncan, then helper to Mr Yorstoun, parish minister, to sleep in the house, with the result, it is told, that from then the ghost disappeared from Knockhill.(89) In this same parish of Hoddom, the student of Carlyle will remember that "old John Orr," the only schoolmaster that Carlyle's father ever had, "laid a ghost." It was in "some house or room at Orchard, in the parish of Hoddom. He entered the haunted place, was closeted in it for some time, speaking and praying. The ghost was really and truly laid, for no one heard more of it."(90) Bonshaw Tower, on the Kirtle (parish of Annan), the original home of the Irvings, also contributes to the ghost-lore of the district. Tradition tells that a daughter of the house was thrown from the battlements of the Tower by her own relatives, whom she had deeply incensed by her determination to marry a "Maxwell," with which family the Irvings held long and bitter feud. It is, or rather was, the ghost of this young lady who haunted the Tower of Bonshaw, but she has not been visible within living memory. Blackett Tower, also on the Kirtle (parish of Kirkpatrick-Fleming), was a border fortress well known in the records of border raid and foray. It was for long the home of the family of Bell. The ruined tower has a ghost legend which claims it as the abode of a spectre known as "Old Red-Cap, or Bloody Bell." A poetical descriptive reference to the tower and its phantom occurs in the poem of "Fair Helen." The passage is of undoubted vigour and masterly touch, and is here given, the author, William Scott Irving, at the same time offering the opinion "that the legends and anecdotes of 'Bloody Bell' would fill a large quarto volume": Of Blackett's Towers strange tales are told: The legendary lore of old, That dread belief, whose mystic spell Could people Gothic vault or cell With being of terrific form, And superstition bound the charm. 'Tis said, that here, at the night's high noon, When broad and red the eastern moon Beams through the chinks of its vast saloon, A ghastly phantom takes its stand On the wall that frowns o'er wear and strand, A bloody dagger in its hand, And ever and aye on the hollow gale Is heard its honorie and wail Dying along the distant vale. The 'nighted peasant starts aghast To hear its shriekings on the blast; Turns him to brave the wintry wind, Nor dares he lingering look behind, But hurries across the moaning flood, And deems its waters swollen with blood-- Such are the tales at Lyke-wake drear, When the unholy hour of night draws near, When the ban-dog howls, and the lights burn blue, And the phantom fleets before the view; When "Red-Cap" wakes his eldrich cry, And the winds of the wold come moaning by.(91) The Old Hall of Ecclefechan (Kirkconnel Hall) is also supposed to be haunted. Little is known about it, but the opinion has been expressed that "the mysterious apparition of the 'Ha' Ghost' seems to have haunted the place from the distant past, and its mysterious and noisy demonstrations have from time to time disturbed the residents. It is said to make its appearance before and at the time of the death of any member of the family."(92) In the parish of Eskdalemuir there is a farm-house called Todshawhill. It is on the Black Esk, about three miles in a south-westerly direction from the Parish Church. With the name of this farm there is associated the memory of something uncanny, known far and wide as the "Bogle of Todshawhill." It seems rather to have been a "brownie" than a "ghost," but some account of it is here given as described by Dr Brown and embodied in an antiquarian account of the parish. According to Dr Brown, one of the bogle's biographers, this creature made a stay of a week, less or more, at Todshawhill farmhouse, disappearing for the most part during the day, only to reappear towards evening. Its freaks and eccentricities very naturally attracted a number of people to the neighbourhood, and among the number, Thomas Bell from Westside, the neighbouring farmer, who, in order to assure himself that it had flesh and blood like other folks, took it up in his arms and fully satisfied himself that it had its ample share of both. In appearance it resembled an old woman above the middle, with very short legs and thighs, and it affected a style of walk at once so comical and undignified that the Rev. Dr aforesaid was compelled to pronounce it "waddling." The first intimation or indication of its presence in these parts was given, I understand, at the head of Todshawhill Bog, where some young callants who were engaged in fastening up the horses of the farm heard a cry at some little distance off--"Tint, Tint, Tint"--to which one of the lads, William Nichol by name, at once replied, "You shall not tine and me here," and then the lads made off, helter-skelter, with the misshapen little creature at their heels. In his terror one of the lads fell head foremost into a hole or moss hag, and the creature, "waddling" past him to get at the rest, came into violent contact with a cow, which, naturally resenting such unceremonious treatment, pushed at it with its horns, whereupon the creature replied, "God help me, what means the cow?" This expression soothed, if it did not wholly allay, the fears of all concerned, for they at once concluded that if the creature had been a spirit it would not have mentioned the name of Deity in the way it did.(93) The last account to be quoted of supernatural visitation in the south-western district of Scotland is a particularly striking one, and is taken from an interesting contribution to a recent number of _Chambers's Journal_ dealing with apparitions:-- "In the Lowlands of Scotland stood an old manor house, where the owner's wife was on her death-bed. The ancient furniture still remained in the room, so the invalid lay in a four-post bed, with curtains all round it, wherein many generations of the family had been born and died. The curtains were drawn at its foot and on the side nearest the wall, but they were open on the other to a blazing fire, before which sat an attendant nurse. A tall screen on her left hand shielded her from the draught from a door, whose top was visible above it; and as the nurse sat there she became conscious that the door was opening and that a hand seemed to rest for a moment on the top of the screen. Presently, as she watched, half-paralysed with fear, a figure appeared from behind the screen--the figure of a young woman clothed in a sacque of rich brocade, over a pink silk petticoat, and wearing a head-dress of the time of Queen Anne. This figure advanced with a gentle undulating movement to the bed and bent down over it. Then the nurse jumped up and stretched out her hand to the bell-pull; and, lo! when she looked again the figure had vanished, and her patient lay there dead, with an expression of rapturous content on her sunken face.(94) Later, when the last sad rites had been accomplished, this nurse wandered into the picture gallery in company with the housekeeper, and pausing before a certain portrait, exclaimed that there was the original of the unknown lady. 'Ah,' came the answer, 'that lady lived here when Queen Anne was on the throne. They say she had a sad life with her lord, and died young. Ever since she is believed, when the mistress of the manor dies, to appear beside the bed, and--and'---- 'You need not tell me more,' said the nurse, 'for I also have seen her.'"(94) No account of superstitious belief in Galloway would be complete without reference to three remarkable tracts, giving quaint and circumstantial accounts of alleged supernatural visitations from the spirit-world beyond. In their order of publication these are--(_a_) "The Surprising Story of the Devil of Glenluce"; (_b_) "A True Account of an Apparition which infested the house of Andrew Mackie, in Ringcroft, Parish of Rerwick, and Stewartry of Kirkcudbright in 1695, ... Mr Alexander Telfair"; and (_c_) "The Laird o' Coul's Ghost." The "Devil of Glenluce" first appeared in an old work on _Hydrostaticks_ by George Sinclair, Professor of Philosophy and afterwards of Mathematics in the University of Glasgow. This work was published in 1672. It was again printed in his more important work, _Satan's Invisible World_, in 1685. The theme is concerned with the persecution of one Gilbert Campbell, a weaver, and his family, in the village of Glenluce, by an evil and tormenting spirit. As a chapbook this curious work had a very wide circulation. The "True Account of the Rerwick Apparition" when first published called for two editions within the first year, and with many alterations it was also published in London under the title of "New Confutation of Sadducism, being a narrative of a Spirit which infested the house of Andrew Mackie of Ringcroft, Galloway, in 1695." Only the site of Ringcroft of Stoking, marked by some old fir trees, remains, near the village of Auchencairn. "The Laird o' Coul's Ghost" seems to have originally appeared as a chapbook, and is thought to have been first published in 1750. It is supposed to be--and the purpose is quaintly carried out--an account of four conferences which the Rev. William Ogilvie (Minister of Innerwick, East Lothian, 1715-1729), held with the restless spirit of Thomas Maxwell, Laird of Cuil, a small estate in the parish of Buittle, in Galloway, and who in his lifetime had done a dishonourable action which tormented him beyond the grave. As these tracts have a direct bearing on the general consideration of superstitious record in the South-west of Scotland, and as they are not particularly easy of access, it has been deemed advisable to reprint them, and include them as an appendix to this volume. [Illustration] APPENDIX. "Surprising Story of the Devil of Glenluce," reprinted from _Satan's Invisible World_, written by George Sinclair, and printed in Edinburgh in the year 1685. This is that famous and notable Story of the Devil of Glenluce, which I published in my _Hydrostaticks_, _anno_ 1672, and which since hath been transcribed word by word by a learned pen, and published in the late book intitutled _Saducismus Triumphaius_, whom nothing but the truth thereof, and usefulness for refuting Atheism could have perswaded to transcribe. The subject matter then of this story is a true and short account of the troubles wherewith the family of one Gilbert Campbel, by profession a Weaver in the old Parish of Glenluce in Galloway, was exercised. I have adventured to publish it _de novo_ in this book, first because it was but hudled up among purposes of another nature. But now I have reduced it to its own proper place. Next, because this story is more full, being enlarged with new additions, which were not in the former, and ends not so abruptly, as the other did. It happened (says my informer, Gilbert Campbel's son, who was then a student of philosophy in the Colledge of Glasgow) that after one Alexander Agnew, a bold and sturdy beggar, who afterwards was hanged at Drumfries for blasphemy, had threatened hurt to the familie because he had not gotten such an almes as he required, the said Gilbert Campbel was often-times hindered in the exercise of his calling, and yet could not know by what means this was done. This Agnew, among many blasphemous expressions had this one, when he was interrogate by the judges whether or not he thought there was a God, he answered, he knew no God but salt, meal, and water. When the stirs began first there was a whistling heard both within and without the house. And Jennet Campbel, going one day to the well to bring home some water, was conveyed with a shril whistling about her ears, which made her say, "I would fain hear thee speake as well as whistle." Hereupon it said, after a threatening manner, "I'le cast thee Jennet into the well." The voice was most exactlie like the damsel's voice, and did resemble it to the life. The gentlewoman that heard this and was a witness thought the voice was very near to her own ears, and said the whistling was such as children use to make with their smal slender glass whistles. About the middle of November the Foul-Fiend came on with new and extraordinary assaults, by throwing of stones in at the doors and windows and down the chimney-head, which were of great quantity and thrown with force, yet by God's providence there was not one person in the family that was hurt. This did necessitate Gilbert Campbel to reveale that to the Minister of the Parish and to some other neighbours and friends which hitherto he had suffered secretly. Notwithstanding of this, his trouble was enlarged; for not long after he found often-times his warp and threeds cut as with a pair of sizzers, and not only so, but their apparel were cut after the same manner, even while they were wearing them--their coats, bonnets, hose, shoes--but could not discern how or by what mean. Only it pleased God to preserve their persons, that the least harm was not done. Yet in the night time they had not liberty to sleep, something coming and pulling their bedcloaths and linnings off them and leaving their bodies naked. Next their chests and trunks were opened and all things in them strawed here and there. Likewise the parts of their working-instruments which had escaped were carried away and hid in holes and bores of the house, where hardly they could be found again. Nay, what ever piece of cloath or household-stuff was in any part of the house it was carried away and so cut and abused that the goodman was necessitate in all haste and speed to remove and transport the rest to a neighbour's house, and he himself compelled to quite the exercise of his calling, whereby he only maintained his family. Yet he resolved to remain in his house for a season; during which time some persons about, not very judicious, counselled him to send his children out of the family here and there to try whom the trouble did most follow, assuring him that this trouble was not against the whole family, but against some one person or other in it, whom he too willingly obeyed. Yet, for the space of four or five dayes there were no remarkable assaults as before. The Minister hearing thereof shewed him the evil of such a course, and assured him that if he repented not and called back his children he might not expect that his trouble would end in a right way. The children that were nigh by being brought home, no trouble followed, till one of his sons called Thomas that was farest off came home. Then did the Devil begin afresh, for upon the Lord's Day following, in the afternoon, the house was set on fire; but by the help of some neighbors going home from sermon, the fire was put out and the house saved, not much loss being done. And Munday after being spent in private prayer and fasting, the house was again set on fire upon the Tuesday about nine o'clock in the morning, yet by the speedy help of neighbors it was saved, little skaith being done. The Weaver being thus vexed and wearied both day and night, went to the Minister of the Parish, an honest and Godly man, desiring him to let his son Thomas abide with him for a time, who condescended, but withal assured him that he would find himself deceived; and so it came to pass, for notwithstanding that the lad was without the family yet were they that remained in it sore troubled both in the day time and night season, so that they were forced to wake till midnight and sometimes all the night over, during which time the persons within the family suffered many losses, as the cutting of their cloaths, the throwing of piets, the pulling down of turff and feal from the roof and walls of the house, and the stealing of their cloaths, and the pricking of their flesh and skin with pins. Some Ministers about, having conveened at the place for a solemn humiliation, perswaded Gilbert Campbel to call back his son Thomas, notwithstanding of whatsoever hazard might follow. The boy returning home affirmed that he heard a voice speak to him, forbidding him to enter within the house or in any other place where his father's calling was exercised. Yet he entered, but was sore abused, till he was forced to return to the Minister's house again. Upon Munday, the 12 of February, the rest of the family began to hear a voice speak to them, but could not well know from whence it came. Yet from evening till midnight too much vain discourse was kept up with Satan, and many idle and impertinent questions proposed, without that due fear of God that should have been upon their spirits under so rare and extraordinary a trial. They came that length in familiar discourse with the Foul-Thief that they were no more afrayed to keep up the clash with him than to speak to one another. In this they pleased him well, for he desired no better than to have sacrifices offered to him. The Minister, hearing of this, went to the house upon the Tuesday, being accompanied with some gentlemen, one James Bailie of Carphin, Alexander Bailie of Dunraged, Mr Robert Hay, and a gentlewoman called Mistris Douglas, whom the Minister's wife did accompanie. At their first in-coming the Devil says, "_Quum literarum_, is good Latine." These are the first words of the Latine rudiments which schollars are taught when they go to the grammar school. He crys again, "A dog." The Minister, thinking that he had spoken it to him, said, "He took it not ill to be reviled by Satan, since his Master had troden that path before him." Answered Satan, "It was not you, sir, I spoke it to; I meant by the dog there," for there was a dog standing behind backs. This passing, they all went to prayer, which being ended, they heard a voice speaking out of the ground from under a bed in the proper countrey dialect, which he did counterfeit exactly, saying, "Would you know the witches of Glenluce? I will tell you them"--and so related four or five persons' names that went under a bad report. The Weaver informed the company that one of them was dead long ago. The Devil answered and said, "It is true, she is dead long ago, but her spirit is living with us in the world." The Minister replied, saying (though it was not convenient to speak to such an excommunicat and intercommuned person), "The Lord rebuke thee, Satan, and put thee to silence; we are not to receive information from thee whatsoever fame any person goes under; thou are seeking to seduce this family, for Satan's kingdom is not divided against itself." After which all went to prayer again, which being ended (for during the time of prayer no noise or trouble was made, except once that a loud fearful youel was heard at a distance) the Devil with many threatnings boasted and terrified the lad Tom, who had come back that day with the Minister, that if he did not depart out of the house he would set all on fire. The Minister answered and said, "The Lord will preserve the house and the lad too, seeing he is one of the family and hath God's warrant to tarry in it." The Fiend answered, "He shall not get liberty to tarry; he was once put out already, and shal not abide here, though I should pursue him to the end of the world." The Minister replied, "The Lord will stop thy malice against him." And then they all went to prayer again, which being ended, the Devil said, "Give me a spade and a shovel, and depart from the house for seven days, and I will make a grave and ly down in it, and shall trouble you no more." The goodman answered, "Not so much as a straw shal be given thee through God's assistance, even though that would do it." The Minister also added, "God shal remove thee in due time." The Spirit answered, "I will not remove for you; I have my commission from Christ to tarry and vex this family." The Minister answered, "A permission thou hast indeed, but God will stop it in due time." The Devil replied, "I have, sir, a commission which perhaps will last longer than your own." The Minister died in the year 1655, in December. The Devil had told them that he had given his commission to Tom to keep. The company enquired at the lad, who said there was a something put into his pocket, but it did not tarry. After this the Minister and the gentlemen arose and went to the place whence the voice seemed to come, to try if they could see or find any thing. After diligent search, nothing being found, the gentlemen began to say, "We think this voice speaks out of the children," for some of them were in their beds. The Foul-Spirit answered, "You lie; God shall judge you for your lying, and I and my father will come and fetch you to hell with warlock thieves:" and so the Devil discharged the gentlemen to speak any thing, saying, "Let him speak that hath a commission (meaning the Minister), for he is the servant of God." The gentlemen, returning back with the Minister, sat down near the place whence the voice seemed to come, and he opening his mouth spake to them after this manner: "The Lord will rebuke this spirit in his own time and cast it out." The Devil answering, said, "It is written in the _9th of Mark_, The Disciples could not cast him out." The Minister replyed, "What the Disciples could not do, yet the Lord, having hightned the parents' faith, for His own glory did cast him out and so shall He thee." The Devil replyed, "It is written in the _4th of Luke_, 'And He departed and left him for a season.'" The Minister said, "The Lord in the dayes of His humiliation not only got the victory over Satan in that assault in the wilderness, but when he came again his success was no better, for it is written (_John 14_), 'Behold the Prince of this World cometh and hath nothing in me,' and being now in glory He will fulfil His promise, and (_Rom. 16_) 'God shal bruise Satan under your feet shortly.'" The Devil answered, "It is written (_Matth. 25_) 'There were ten virgins, five wise & five foolish; and the bridegroom came, the foolish virgins had no oyl in their lamps, and went unto the wise to seek oyl, and the wise said, Go and buy for your selves; and while they went the bridegroom came and entered in, and the door was shut, and the foolish virgins were sent to hell's fire.'" The Minister answered, "The Lord knows the sincerity of His servants, and though there be sin and folly in us here, yet there is a fountain opened to the house of David for sin and for uncleanness. When He hath washen us and pardoned our sins for His name's sake He will cast the unclean spirit out of the land." The Devil answered and said, "Sir, you should have cited for that place of Scripture the 13 chap. of _Zech._," and so he began at the first verse and repeated several verses, and concluded with these words, "'In that day I will cause the prophet and the unclean spirit pass out of the land'; but afterwards it is written, 'I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered.'" The Minister answered and said, "Well are we that our blessed Shepherd was smitten, and thereby hath bruised thy head, and albeit in the hour of His sufferings His Disciples forsook Him (_Matth. 26_). Yet now having ascended on high He sits in glory, and is preserving, gathering in, and turning His hand upon His little ones, and will save His poor ones in this family from thy malice." The Minister returning back a little and standing upon the floor, the Devil said, "I knew not these Scriptures till my father taught me them." Then the Minister conjured him to tell whence he was. The Foul-Fiend replyed that he was an evil spirit come from the bottomless pit of hell to vex this house, and that Satan was his father; and presently there appeared a naked hand and an arm, from the elbow down, beating upon the floor till the house did shake again, and also he uttered a most fearful and loud cry, saying, "Come up, Father, come up; I will send my father among you; see, there he is behind your backs." The Minister said, "I saw indeed an hand and an arm when the stroak was given, and heard." The Devil said to him, "Say you that? It was not my hand, it was my father's: my hand is more black in the loof." "O," said Gilbert Campbel, "that I might see thee as well as I hear thee!" "Would you see me?" says the Foul-Thief; "put out the candle and I shal come butt the house among you like fire balls. I shall let you see me indeed." Alexander Bailie of Dunraged says to the Minister, "Let us go ben and see if there be any hand to be seen." The Devil answered, "No, let him come ben alone; he is a good honest man, his single word may be believed." About this time the Devil abused Mr Robert Hay, a very honest gentleman, very ill, with his tongue, calling him witch and warlock. A little after, the Devil cryes (it seems out of purpose and in a purpose), "A witch, a witch, ther's a witch sitting upon the ruist, take her away:" he meant a hen sitting upon the balk of the house. These things being past, all went to prayer, during which time he was silent. Prayer being ended, the Devil answered and said, "If the goodman's son's prayers at the Colledge of Glasgow did not prevail with God: my father and I had wrought a mischief here ere now." To which Alexander Bailie of Dunraged replied, "Well, well, I see you confess there is a God, and that prayer prevails with Him, and therefore we must pray to God, and commit the event to Him." To whom the Devil replied, "Yea, sir, you speak of prayer with your broad-lipped hat (for the gentleman had lately gotten a hat in the fashion with broad lipps). I'le bring a pair of shears from my father, which shall clip the lipps off it a little." Whereupon he presently imagined that he heard and felt a pair of shears going round about his hat, which caused him lift it to see if the Foul-Thief had medled with it. During this time several things, but of less moment, passed, as that he would have Tom a merchant, Rob a smith, John a minister, and Hue a lawier, all which in some measure came to pass. As to Jennet, the goodman's daughter, he cryes to her, "Jennet Campbel, Jennet Campbel, wilt thou cast me thy belt?" Quoth she, "what a widdy would thou do with my belt?" "I would fain (says he) fasten my loose bones closs together with it." A younger daughter sitting busking her puppies, as young girls use to do, being threatned by the Fiend that he would ding out her harns, that is, brain her, answered without being concerned, "No, if God be to the fore," and so fell to her work again. The goodwife of the house having brought out some bread was breaking it, to give everyone of the company a piece. Cryes he, "Grissel Wyllie, Grissel Wyllie, give me a piece of that hard bread (for so they call their oat cakes). I have gotten nothing this day but a bit from Marrit"--that is, as they speak in that countrey, Margaret. The Minister said, "Beware of that, for it is a sacrificing to the Devil." The girle was called for, and asked if she gave him any hard bread. "No," says she, "but when I was eating my due piece this morning something came and clicked it out of my hand." The evening being now far spent, it was thought fit that every one should withdraw to his own home. Then did the Devil cry out fearfully, "Let not the Minister goe home, I shall burn the house if he go," and many other ways did he threaten. After the Minister had gone foorth Gilbert Campbel was very instant with him to tarry, whereupon he returned, all the rest going home. When he came into the house the Devil gave a great gaff of laughter: "You have now, sir, done my bidding." "Not thine," answered the other, "but in obedience to God have I returned to bear this man companie, whom thou doest afflict." Then did the Minister call upon God, and when prayer was ended he discharged the Weaver and all the persons of the familie to speak a word to the Devil, and when it spake that they should only kneel down and speak to God. The Devil then roared mightily and cryed out, "What! will ye not speake to me? I shall strike the bairns and do all manner of mischief." But after that time no answer was made to it, and so for a long time no speech was heard. Several times hath he beat the children in their beds, and the claps of his loof upon their buttocks would have been heard, but without any trouble to them. While the Minister and gentlemen were standing at the door readie to go home the Minister's wife and the goodwife were within. Then cryed Satan, "Grissel, put out the candle." Sayes she to the Minister's wife, "Shall I do it?" "No," says the other, "For then you shal obey the Devil." Upon this he cryes again with a louder shout, "Put out the candle." The candle still burns. The third time he cries, "Put out the candle," and no obedience being given to him he did so often reiterate these words and magnify his voice that it was astonishment to hear him, which made them stop their ears, they thinking the sound was just at their ears. At last the candle was put out. "Now," says he, "I'le trouble you no more this night." I must insert here what I heard from one of the Ministers of that Presbytrie, who with the rest were appointed to meet at the Weaver's house for prayer and other exercises of that kind. When the day came, five only met. But before they went in they stood a while in the croft, which layes round about the house, consulting what to do. They resolved upon two things--First, there should be no words of conjuration used, as commanding him in the name of God to tell whence he was or to depart from the familie, for which they thought they had no call from God. Secondly, that when the Devil spake none should answer him, but hold on in their worshipping of God and the duties they were called to. When all of them had prayed by turns and three of them had spoken a word or two from the Scripture, they prayed again, and then ended without any disturbance. When that brother who informed me had gone out, one Hue Nisbet, one of the company, came running after him, desiring him to come back, for he had begun to whistle. "No," sayes the other, "I tarried as long as God called me, but go in again I will not." After this the said Gilbert suffered much loss, and had many sad nights, not two nights in one week free, and thus it continued till April; from April till July he had some respite and ease, but after he was molested with new assaults, and even their victuals were so abused that the family was in hazard of starving, and that which they eat gave them not their ordinary satisfaction they were wont to find. In this sore and sad affliction Gilbert Campbel resolved to make his addresses to the Synod of Presbyters for advice and counsel what to do, which was appointed to conveen in October, 1655--namely, whether to forsake the house or not? The Synod, by their committy appointed to meet at Glenluce in February, 1656, thought fit that a solemn humiliation should be kept through all the bounds of the Synod; and, among other causes, to request God in behalf of that afflicted family, which, being done carefully, the event was that his troubles grew less till April, and from April to August he was altogether free. About which time the Devil began with new assaults, and taking the ready meat that was in the house did sometimes hide it in holes by the door-posts, and at other times did hide it under the beds, and sometimes among the bedcloaths, and under the linnings, and at last did carry it quite away, till nothing was left there, save bread and water. This minds me of a small passage, as a proof of what is said. The goodwife one morning making pottage for the children's breakfasts had the tree-plate, wherein the meal lay, snatched from her quickly. "Well," says she, "let me have the plate again." Whereupon it came flying at her without any skaith done. 'Tis like if she had sought the meale too she might have got it; such is his civility when he is entreated. A small homage will please him ere he want all. After this he exercised his malice and cruelty against all persons in the family in wearying them in the night time by stirring and moving thorow the house, so that they had no rest for noise, which continued all the moneth of August after this manner. After which time the Devil grew yet worse by roaring, and terrifying them by casting of stones, by striking them with staves on their beds in the night time. And upon the 18 of September, about midnight, he cryed out with a loud voice, "I shall burn the house." And about three or four nights after he set one of the beds on fire, which was soon put out without any prejudice, except the bed itself. Thus I have written a short and true account of all the material passages which occurred. To write every particular, especially of lesser moment, would fill a large volum. The goodman lived several years after this in the same house; and it seems that by some conjuration or other the Devil suffered himself to be put away, and gave the Weaver a peaceable habitation. This Weaver has been a very odd man that endured so long these marvellous disturbances. "A True Relation of an Apparition, Expressions and Actings, of a Spirit which infested the house of Andrew Mackie, in Ringcroft of Stocking, in the Parish of Rerwick, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in Scotland." Printed in Edinburgh by George Mosman, and sold at his shop in the Parliament Close, 1696. Whereas many are desirous to know the truth of the matter, as to the Evil Spirit and its actings, that troubled the family of Andrew Mackie, in Ringcroft of Stocking, &c., and are liable to be mis-informed, as I do find by the reports that come to my own ears of that matter; therefore that satisfaction may be given, and such mistakes cured or prevented, I, the Minister of the said parish (who was present several times, and was witness to many of its actings, and have heard an account of the whole of its methods and actings from the persons present, towards whom, and before whom it did act), have given the ensuing and short account of the whole matter, which I can attest to be the very truth as to that affair; and before I come to the relation itself, I premise these things with respect to what might have been the occasion and rise of that spirit's appearing and acting. 1. The said Andrew Mackie being a mason to his employment, 'tis given out, that when he took the mason word, he devoted his first child to the Devil; but I am certainly informed he never took the same, and knows not what that word is. He is outwardly moral; there is nothing known to his life and conversation, but honest, civil, and harmless, beyond many of his neighbours; doth delight in the company of the best; and when he was under the trouble of that evil spirit, did pray to the great satisfaction of many. As for his wife and children, none have imputed any thing to them as the rise of it, nor is there any ground, for aught I know, for any to do so. 2. Whereas it is given out that a woman, _sub mala fama_, did leave some clothes in that house in the custody of the said Andrew Mackie, and died before they were given up to her, and he and his wife should have kept some of them back from her friends. I did seriously pose both him and his wife upon the matter; they declared they knew not what things were left, being bound up in a sack, but did deliver entirely to her friends all they received from the woman, which I am apt to believe. [Illustration: "RINGCROFT OF STOCKING," NOW NO LONGER IN EXISTENCE. (Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.)] 3. Whereas one, ---- Macknaught, who sometime before possessed the house, did not thrive in his own person or goods. It seems he had sent his son to a witch-wife who lived then at the Routing Bridge, in the parish of Irongray, to enquire what might be the cause of the decay of his person and goods. The youth, meeting with some foreign soldiers, went abroad to Flanders, and did not return with an answer. Some years after there was one John Redick in this parish who, having had occasion to go abroad, met with the said young Macknaught in Flanders, and they knowing other, Macknaught enquired after his father and other friends; and finding the said John Redick was to go home, desired him to go to his father, or whoever dwelt in the Ringcroft, and desire them to raise the door threshold, and search till they found a tooth, and burn it, for none who dwelt in that house would thrive till that was done. The said John Redick coming home, and finding the old man Macknaught dead and his wife out of that place, did never mention the matter nor further mind it till this trouble was in Andrew Mackie's family, then he spoke of it and told the matter to myself. Betwixt Macknaught's death and Andrew Mackie's possession of this house there was one Thomas Telfair who possessed it some years. What way he heard the report of what the witch-wife had said to Macknaught's son I cannot tell; but he searched the door threshold and found something like a tooth, did compare it with the tooth of a man, horse, nolt, and sheep (as he said to me), but could not say which it did resemble, only it did resemble a tooth. He did cast it into the fire, where it burnt like a candle or so much tallow; yet he never knew any trouble about that house by night or by day, before or after, during his possession. These things premised being suspected to have been the occasion of the troubles, and there being no more known as to them than what is now declared, I do think the matter still unknown what may have given a rise thereto, but leaving this I subjoin the matter as follows: In the month of February, 1695, the said Andrew Mackie had some young beasts, which in the night-time were still loosed and their bindings broken, he taking it to be the unrulyness of the beasts, did make stronger and stronger bindings, of withes and other things, but still all were broken. At last he suspected it to be some other thing, whereupon he removed them out of that place; and the first night thereafter one of them was bound with a hair-tedder to the back of the house, so strait that the feet of the beast only touched the ground, but could move no way else, yet it sustained no hurt. Another night, when the family were all sleeping, there was the full of a back creel of peats set together in the midst of the house floor, and fire put in them; the smoke wakened the family, otherwise the house had been burnt; yet nothing all the time was either seen or heard. Upon the 7th of March there were stones thrown in the house in all the places of it; but it could not be discovered from whence they came, what, or who threw them. After this manner it continued till the Sabbath, now and then throwing both in the night and day, but was busiest throwing in the night-time. Upon Saturday, the family being all without, the children coming in saw something which they thought to be a body sitting by the fireside, with a blanket (or cloth) about it, whereat they were afraid. The youngest, being a boy about nine or ten years of age, did chide the rest saying, "Why are you feared, let us saine (or bless) ourselves, and then there is no ground to fear it." He perceived the blanket to be his, and saining (or blessing) himself, ran and pulled the blanket from it saying, "Be what it will, it hath nothing to do with my blanket;" and then they found it to be a fourfooted stool set upon the end, and the blanket cast over it. Upon the Sabbath, being the 11th of March, the crook and pot-cleps were taken away, and were awanting four days, and were found at last on a loft, where they had been sought several times before.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan of Colline, and John Cairns in Hardhills. It was observed that the stones which hit any person had not half their natural weight; and the throwing was more frequent on the Sabbath than at other times, and especially in time of prayer, above all other times, it was busiest then, throwing most at the person praying. The said Andrew Mackie told the matter to me upon Sabbath after sermon. Upon the Tuesday thereafter I went to the house, did stay a considerable time with them and prayed twice, and there was no trouble. Then I came out with a resolution to leave the house, and as I was standing speaking to some men at the barn end I saw two little stones drop down on the croft at a little distance from me, and then immediately some crying out of the house that it was become as ill as ever within; whereupon I went into the house again, and as I was at prayer it threw several stones at me, but they did no hurt, being very small; and after there was no more trouble till the eighteenth day of March, and then it began as before, and threw more frequently greater stones, whose strokes were sorer where they hit, and thus it continued to the 21st. Then I went to the house, and stayed a great part of the night, but was greatly troubled; stones and several other things were thrown at me, I was struck several times on the sides and shoulders very sharply with a great staff, so that those who were present heard the noise of the strokes. That night it tore off the bedside, and rapped upon the chests and boards as one calling for access.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan of Colline, William Mackminn, and John Tait in Torr. That night as I was once at prayer, leaning on a bedside, I felt something pressing on my arm; I, casting my eyes thither, perceived a little white hand and arm from the elbow down, but presently it evanished. It is to be observed that, notwithstanding of all that was felt and heard, from the first to the last of this matter, there was never anything seen, except that hand I saw; and a friend of the said Andrew Mackie's said he saw as it were a young boy about the age of fourteen years, with gray clothes, and a bonnet on his head, but presently disappeared, as also what the three children saw sitting at the fireside. Upon the 22d the trouble still increased, both against the family and against the neighbours who came to visit them, by throwing stones and beating them with staves; so that some were forced to leave the house before their inclination.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan in Colline, and Andrew Tait in Torr. Some it would have met as they came to the house, and stoned with stones about the yards, and in like manner stoned as they went from the house, of whom Thomas Telfair in Stocking was one. It made a little wound on the said Andrew Mackie's brow; did thrust several times at his shoulder, he not regarding; at last it gripped him so by the hair, that he thought something like nails of fingers scratched his skin. It dragged severals up and down the house by the cloathes.--This is attested by Andrew Tait. It gripped one Keige, miller in Auchencairn, so by his side that he entreated his neighbours to help, and cried it would rive the side from him. That night it lifted the cloathes off the children as they were sleeping in bed, and beat them on the hips as if it had been with one's hand, so that all that were in the house heard it. The door bar and other things would go through the house as if a person had been carrying them in their hand, yet nothing seen doing it.--This is attested by John Telfair in Auchinleck, and others. It rattled on the chests and bedsides with a staff, and made a great noise; and thus it continued by throwing stones, striking with staves and rattling in the house, till the 2d of April. At night it cryed "Whist, whist," at every sentence in the close of prayer; and it whistled so distinctly that the dog barked and ran to the door, as if one had been calling to hound him. Aprile 3d, it whistled several times and cryed "Whist, whist."--This is attested by Andrew Tait. Upon the 4th of April Charles Macklellan of Colline, landlord, with the said Andrew Mackie, went to a certain number of ministers met at Buittle, and gave them an account of the matter, whereupon these ministers made public prayers for the family, and two of their number, viz., Mr Andrew Ewart, minister of Kells, and Mr John Murdo, minister of Crossmichael, came to the house and spent that night in fasting and praying, but it was very cruel against them, especially by throwing great stones, some of them about half a stone weight. It wounded Mr Andrew Ewart twice in the head, to the effusion of his blood, it pulled off his wig in time of prayer, and when he was holding out his napkin betwixt his hands it cast a stone in the napkin and therewith threw it from him. It gave Mr John Murdo several sore strokes, yet the wounds and bruises received did soon cure. There were none in the house that night escaped from its fury and cruelty. That night it threw a fiery peat amongst the people, but it did no hurt, it only disturbed them in time of prayer. And also in the dawning as they rose from prayer the stones poured down on all who were in the house to their hurt.--This is attested by Mr Andrew Ewart, Mr John Murdo, Charles Macklellan, and John Tait. Upon the 5th of April it set some thatch straw on fire which was in the barn yard; at night, the house being very throng with neighbours, the stones were still thrown down among them. As the said Andrew Mackie and his wife went out to bring in some peats to the fire, when she came to the door she found a broad stone to shake under her foot, which she never knew to be loose before; she resolved with herself to see what was beneath it in the morning thereafter. Upon the 6th of April, when the house was quiet, she went to the stone and there found seven small bones, with blood and some flesh, all closed in a piece of old suddled paper; the blood was fresh and bright. The sight whereof troubled her, and being afraid laid all down again and ran to Colline's house, being a quarter of a mile distant; but in that time it was worse than ever before, by throwing stones and fire balls in and about the house, but the fire as it lighted did evanish. In that time it threw a hot stone into the bed betwixt the children, which burnt through the bed-cloathes; and after it was taken out by the man's eldest son, and had layen on the floor more than an hour and a half, the said Charles Macklellan of Colline could not hold it in his hand for heat.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan. It thrust a staff through the wall of the house above the children in the bed, shook it over them and groaned. When Colline came to the house he went to prayer before he offered to lift the bones; all the time he was at prayer it was most cruel, but as soon as he took up the bones the trouble ceased.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan. He sent them presently to me, upon sight whereof I went immediately to the house. While I was at prayer it threw great stones which hit me, but did no hurt, then there was no more trouble that night. The 7th of April being Sabbath, it began again and threw stones, and wounded William Macminn, a blacksmith, on the head; it cast a plough-sock at him and also a trough stone upwards of three stone weight, which did fall upon his back, yet he was not hurt thereby.--Attested by William Macminn. It set the house twice on fire, yet there was no hurt done, in respect some neighbours were in the house who helped to quench it. At night in the twilight as John Mackie, the said Andrew Mackie's eldest son, was coming home, near to the house, there was an extraordinary light fell about him and went before him to the house with a swift motion; that night it continued after its wonted manner. April 8th, in the morning as Andrew Mackie went down the close he found a letter both written and sealed with blood. It was directed on the back thus, "3 years thou shall have to repent a nett it well," and within was written, "Wo be to thee Scotland Repent and tak warning for the doors of haven ar all Redy bart against thee, I am sent for a warning to thee to flee to God yet troublt shall this man be for twenty days, repent repent repent Scotland or else thou shall." In the middle of the day the persons alive who lived in that house since it was built, being about twenty-eight years, were conveined by appointment of the civil magistrate before Colline, myself, and others, and did all touch the bones, in respect there was some suspicion of secret murder committed in the place, but nothing was found to discover the same. Upon the 9th of April the letter and bones were sent to the ministers, who were all occasionally met at Kirkcudbright; they appointed five of their number, viz., Mr John Murdo, Mr James Monteith, Mr John Macmillan, Mr Samuel Spalding, and Mr William Falconer, with me, to go to the house and spend so much time as we were able in fasting and prayer. Upon the 10th of April we went to the house, and no sooner did I begin to open my mouth but it threw stones at me and all within the house, but still worst at him who was at duty. It came often with such force upon the house that it made all the house to shake, it broke a hole through the timber and thatch of the house and powred in great stones, one whereof, more than a quarter weight, fell upon Mr Monteith's back, yet he was not hurt. It threw another with great force at him when he was praying, bigger than a man's fist, which hit him on the breast, yet he was neither hurt nor moved thereby. It was thought fit that one of our number with another person should go by turns and stand under the hole in the outside, so there was no more trouble from that place; but the barn being joined to the end of the house, it brake down the barn door and mid wall and threw stones up the house, but did no great hurt. It gripped and handled the legs of some as with a man's hand, it hoised up the feet of others while standing on the ground, thus it did to William Lennox of Millhouse, myself, and others. In this manner it continued till ten o'clock at night, but after that there was no more trouble while we were about the house.--This is attested by Messrs James Monteith, John Murdo, Samuel Spalding, Wm. Falconer, William Lennox, and John Tait. The 11th, 12th, and 13th it was worse than ever it was before, for not one that came into the house did escape heavy strokes. There was one Andrew Tait in Torr, as he was coming to stay with the family all night, by the way his dog catched a thulmart, when he came in he cast it by in the house; thereafter there were other three young men who came in also, and when they were all at prayer the Evil Spirit beat them with the dead thulmart and threw it before them. The three who knew it not to be in the house were greatly affrighted, especially one Samuel Thomson, a chapman, whom it also gripped by the side and back, and thrust as if it had been an hand beneath his clothes and into his pockets, he was so affrighted that he took sickness immediately.--This is attested by Andrew Tait. The 14th being the Sabbath, it set some straw on fire that was in the barn yard, and threw stones till ten o'clock at night; it threw an dike spade at the said Andrew Mackie, with the mouth toward him, but he received no hurt; while an meal-sive was tossed up and down the house, the said Andrew Mackie takes hold of it, and as it were with difficulty gets the grip keeped, at last all within the rim is torn out. Thereafter it threw a handful of the sive rolled together at Thomas Robertson in Airds, who was witness to this, yet in all its actings there was never any thing seen, but what I mentioned before. Upon the 15th of April, William Anderson, a drover, and James Paterson, his son-in-law, came to the house with Colline in the evening. Colline going home a while within night, the said Andrew Mackie sent his sons to convey him; as they returned they were cruelly stoned, and the stones rolled amongst their legs, like to break them. Shortly after they came in, it wounded William Anderson on the head, to the great effusion of his blood. In time of prayer it whistled, groaned, and cryed "Whist, whist."--This is attested by John Cairns. The 16th it continued whisting, groaning, whistling, and throwing stones in time of prayer; it cryed "Bo, bo," and kick, cuck, and shook men back and forward, and hoised them up as if to lift them off their knees.--This is attested by Andrew Tait. The whole family went from the house, and left five honest neighbours to wait on the same all night; but there was no hurt done to them, nor the family where they were, nor to those neighbours who stayed in the said Andrew Mackie's house, only the cattle were cast over other to the hazard of killing them, as they were bound to the stakes, and some of them were loosed.--This is attested by John Cairns. Upon the 18th they returned to their house again, and there was no hurt to them or their cattle that night, except in a little house, where there were some sheep, it coupled them together in pairs by the neck with straw ropes, made of an bottle of straw, which it took off an loft in the stable and carried to the sheep house, which is three or four pair of butts (arrow shots) distant, and it made more ropes than it needed for binding the sheep, which it left beside the straw in the sheep-house.--This is attested by Andrew Tait. Upon the 19th it fired the straw in the barn, but Andrew Mackie put it out, (being there threshing) without doing any harm. It shot staves through the wall at him, but did no hurt. The 20th, it continued throwing stones, whistling, and whisting, with all its former words. When it hit any person, and said, "Take you that till you get more," that person was sure immediately of another; but when it said, "Take you that," the person got no more for a while.--This is attested by John Tait. The 21st, 22nd, and 23rd it continued casting stones, beating with staves, and throwing peat mud in the faces of all in the house, especially in time of prayer, with all its former tricks. The 24th being a day of humiliation appointed to be kept in the parish for that cause, all that day from morning till night it continued in a most fearful manner without intermission, throwing stones with such cruelty and force that all in the house feared lest they should be killed. The 25th it threw stones all night, but did no great hurt. The 26th it threw stones in the evening and knocked several times on a chest, as one to have access; and began to speak and call those that were sitting in the house witches and rooks, and said it would take them to hell. The people then in the house said among themselves, if it had any to speak to it now, it would speak. In the meantime Andrew Mackie was sleeping. They wakened him, and then he, hearing it say "Thou shalt be troubled till Tuesday," asked, "Who gave thee a commission?" To whom it answered, "God gave me a commission, and I am sent to warn the land to repent, for a judgment is to come if the land do not quickly repent," and commanded him to reveal it upon his peril; and if the land did not repent it said it would go to its father and get a commission to return with a hundred worse than itself, and would trouble every particular family in the land. Andrew Mackie said to those that were with him, "If I should tell this I would not be believed." Then it said, "Fetch betters; fetch the Minister of the parish and two honest men upon Tuesday's night, and I shall declare before them what I have to say." Then it said, "Praise me and I will whistle to you; worship me and I will trouble you no more." Then Andrew Mackie said, "The Lord who delivered the three children out of the fiery furnace, deliver me and mine this night from the temptations of Satan." Then it replied, "You might as well have said, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego." In the meantime, while Andrew Mackie was speaking, there was one James Telfair in Buittle who was adding a word, to whom it said, "You are basely bred, meddling in other men's discourse, wherein you are not concerned." It likewise said, "Remove your goods, for I will burn the house." He answered, "The Lord stop Satan's fury and hinder him of his designs." Then it said, "I will do it, or you shall guide well."--All this is attested by John Tait in Torr and several others who cannot subscribe. Upon the 27th it set fire to the house seven times. The 28th, being the Sabbath, from sun-rising till sun-setting it still set the house on fire--as it was quenched in one part, instantly it was fired in another--and in the evening, when it could not get its designs fulfilled in burning the house, it pulled down the end of the house, all the stonework thereof, so that they could not abide in it any longer, but went and kindled their fire in the stable. Upon the Sabbath night it pulled one of the children out of the bed, gripping him, as he thought, by the craig and shoulders; and took up a block of a tree as great as a plough-head, and held above the children, saying, "If I had a commission I would brain them." Thus it expressed itself, in the hearing of all who were in the house.--Attested by William Macminn and John Crosby. The 29th, being Monday, it continued setting fire to the house. The said Andrew Mackie finding the house so frequently set on fire, and being weary quenching it, he went and put out all the fire that was about the house, and poured water upon the hearth; yet after it fired the house several times, when there was no fire within a quarter of a mile of the house.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan and John Cairnes. In the midst of the day, as Andrew Mackie was threshing in the barn, it whispered in the wall and then cried, "Andrew, Andrew," but he gave no answer to it. Then with an austere angry voice as it were, it said, "Speak;" yet he gave no answer. Then it said, "Be not troubled; you shall have no more trouble, except some casting of stones upon Tuesday to fulfill the promise," and said, "Take away your straw." I went to the house about 11 o'clock; it fired the house once after I went there. I stayed all night till betwixt three and four on Tuesday's morning, during which time there was no trouble about the house, except two little stones dropped down at the fireside as we were sitting down at our first entry. A little after I went away it began to throw stones as formerly.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan and John Tait. Upon Tuesday's night, being the 30th of April, Charles Macklellan of Colline, with several neighbours, were in the barn. As he was at prayer he observed a black thing in the corner of the barn, and it did encrease as if it would fill the whole house. He could not discern it to have any form but as if it had been a black cloud; it was affrightning to them all, and then it threw bear-chaff and other mud upon their faces; and after did gripp severals that were in the house by the middle of the body, by the arms and other parts of their bodies, so strait that some said for five days thereafter that they thought they felt these gripps. After an hour or two of the night was thus past there was no more trouble.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan, Thomas Macminn, Andrew Paline, John Cairnes, and John Tait. Upon Wednesday's night, being the 1st of May, it fired a little sheep-house; the sheep were got out safe, but the sheep-house was wholly burnt. Since there has not been any trouble about the house by night nor by day. Now all things aforesaid, being of undoubted verity, therefore I conclude with that of the Apostle, _1 Peter v., 8-9_, "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: Whom resist steadfast in the faith." This relation is attested, as to what they particularly saw, heard, and felt, by Andrew Ewart, minister of Kells; James Monteith, minister of Borgue; John Murdo, minister of Crossmichael; Samuel Spalding, minister of Parton; William Falconer, minister of Kelton; Charles Macklellan of Colline, William Lennox of Millhouse, Andrew Tait in Torr, John Tait in Torr, John Cairns in Hardhills, William Macminn, John Crosby, Thomas Macminn, Andrew Paline, &c. "The Laird o' Coul's Ghost: an Eighteenth Century Chapbook. An Account of Mr Maxwell, Laird of Coul, his Appearance after Death to Mr Ogilvie, a Minister of the present Establishment at Innerwick." (Abridged.) Upon the third day of February, 1722, at seven o'clock at night, after I had parted with Thurston [his name Cant], and was coming up the Burial Road, one came riding up after me: upon hearing the noise of his horse's feet, I took it to be Thurston, but upon looking back, and seeing the horse of a greyish colour, I called "Who is there?" The answer was, "The Laird of Coul [his name Maxwell], be not afraid." Then looking to him by the help of the dark light which the moon afforded, I took him to be Collector Castellow designing to put a trick upon me, and immediately I struck at him with all my force with my cane, thinking I should leave upon him a mark, to make him remember his presumption; but being sensible, I aimed as well as ever I did in my life, yet my cane finding no resistance, but flying out of my hand the distance of about 60 feet, and observing it by its white head, I dismounted and took it up, and had some difficulty in mounting again, what by the ramping of my horse and what by reason of a certain kind of trembling throughout my whole joints, something likewise of anger had its share in the confusion; for, as I thought, he laughed when my staff flew away. Coming up with him again, who halted all the time I sought my staff, I asked once more "Who he was?" He answered, "The Laird of Coul." I enquired, "If he was the Laird of Coul, what brought him hither?" and "What was his business with me?" _Coul_--The reason of my waiting on you is that I know you are disposed to do for me a thing which none of your brethren in Nithsdale will so much as attempt, though it serve to ever so good purposes. I told him I would never refuse to do a thing to serve a good purpose, if I thought I was obliged to do it as my duty. He answered, since I had undertaken what he found few in Nithsdale would, for he had tried some upon that subject, who were more obliged to him than ever I was, or to any person living: I drew my horse, and halted in surprise, asking what I had undertaken? _Ogilvie_--Pray, Coul, who informed you that I talked at that rate? _Coul_--You must know that we are acquainted with many things that the living know nothing about. These things you did say, and much more to that purpose; and all that I want is that you fulfil your promise and deliver my commissions to my loving wife. _Ogilvie_--'Tis a pity, Coul, that you who know so many things, should not know the difference between an absolute and a conditional promise. But did I ever say that if you would come to Innerwick and employ me that I would go all the way to Dumfries upon that errand? That is what never so much as once entered into my thought. _Coul_--What was in your thought I do not pretend to know, but I can depend upon my information that these were your words; but I see you are in some disorder; I will wait on you again, when you have more presence of mind. By the time we were got to James Dickson's inclosure below the churchyard, and while I was collecting in my mind whether ever I had spoken these words he alleged, he broke from me through the churchyard with greater violence than ever any man on horseback is capable of, and with such a singing and buzzing noise as put me in greater disorder than I was all the time I was with him. I came to my house, and my wife observed something more than ordinary paleness in my countenance, and would allege that something ailed me. I called for a dram and told her I was a little uneasy. After I found myself a little eased and refreshed, I retired to my closet to meditate on this the most astonishing adventure of my whole life. THE SECOND CONFERENCE. Upon the 5th of March, 1722. Being at Blarehead baptising the shepherd's child, I came off at sunsetting, or a very little after. Near Will. White's march the Laird of Coul came up with me on horseback as formerly, and, after his first salutation, bid me not be afraid, for he would do me no harm. I told him I was not in the least afraid, in the name of God and of Christ my Saviour, that he would do the least harm to me; for I knew that He in whom I trusted was stronger than all them put together, and if any of them should attempt even to do the horse I rode upon harm, as you have done to Dr Menzies' man,[48] if it be true that is said, and generally believed about Dumfries, I have free access to complain to my Lord and Master, to the lash of whose resentment you are as much liable now as before. _Coul_--You need not multiply words upon that head, for you are as safe with me and safer, if safer can be, than when I was alive. I said--Well then, Coul, let me have a peaceable and easy conversation with you for the time we ride together, and give me some information about the affairs of the other world, for no man inclines to lose his time in conversing with the dead without having a prospect of hearing and learning something that may be useful. _Coul_--Well, sir, I will satisfy you as far as I think it proper and convenient. Let me know what information you want from me. _Ogilvie_--Well, then, what sort of body is it that you appear in, and what sort of a horse is it that you ride on that appears so full of mettle? _Coul_--You may depend upon it 'tis not the same body that I was witness to your marriage in, nor in which I died, for that is in the grave rotting; but it is such a body as answers me in a moment, for I can fly as fast as my soul can do without it, so that I can go to Dumfries and return again before you ride twice the length of your horse: nay, if I incline to go to London, or to Jerusalem, or to the moon, if you please, I can perform all these journeys equally soon, for it costs me nothing but a thought or wish; for this body you see is as fleet as your thought, for in the same moment of time that you carry your thoughts to Rome I can go there in person. And for my horse, he is much like myself, for 'tis Andrew Johnstoun, who was seven years my tenant, and he died 48 hours before me. _Ogilvie_--So it seems when Andrew Johnstoun inclines to ride you must serve him for a horse, as he now does you? THE THIRD CONFERENCE. Upon the 9th of April, 1722, as I was returning from Old Hamstocks, Coul struck up with me upon the back, at the foot of the ruinous inclosure before we come to Dodds. I told him his last conversation had proven so acceptable to me that I was well pleased to see him again, and that there was a vast number of things which I wanted to inform myself further of, if he would be so good as to satisfy me. _Coul_--Last time we met I refused you nothing that you asked, and now I expect you will refuse me nothing that I ask. _Ogilvie_--Nothing, sir, that is in my power, or that I can with safety to my reputation and character. What then are your demands upon me? _Coul_--All I desire is that, as you promised that Sabbath day, you will go to my wife, who now possesses all my effects, and tell her the following particulars, and desire her in my name to rectify these matters. First, that I was justly owing to Provost Crosby £500 Scots, and three years' interest; but upon hearing of his death, my good-brother (the laird of Chapel) and I did forge a discharge narrating the date of the bond, the sum, and other particulars, with this onerous clause that at that time it was fallen by and could not be found, with an obligation on the Provost's part to deliver up the bond as soon as he could hit upon it, and this discharge was dated three months before the Provost's death; and when his only son and successor, Andrew Crosby, wrote to me concerning this bond, I came to him and showed him that discharge, which silenced him, so that I got my bond without more ado. And when I heard of Robert Kennedy's death, with the same help of Chapel, I got a bill upon him for £190 sterling, which I got full and compleat payment of, and Chapel got the half. When I was in Dumfries the day Thomas Greer died, to whom I was owing an account of £36 sterling, Chapel, my good-brother, at that time was at London, and not being able of myself, being but a bad writer, to get a discharge of the account, which I wanted exceedingly, I met accidentally with Robert Boyd, a poor writer lad in Dumfries. I took him to Mrs Carrick's, gave him a bottle of wine and told him that I had paid Thomas Greer's account, but wanted a discharge, and if he would help me to it I would reward him. He flew away from me in great passion, saying he would rather be hanged, but if I had a mind for these things I had best wait till Chapel came home. This gave me great trouble, fearing that what he and I had formerly done was no secret. I followed Boyd to the street, made an apology that I was jesting, commended him for his honesty, and took him solemnly engaged that he should not repeat what had passed. I sent for my cousin Barnhourie, your good-brother, who with no difficulty, for one guinea and a half undertook and performed all that I wanted, and for one guinea more made me up a discharge for £200 Scots, which I was owing to your father-in-law and his friend Mr Morehead, which discharge I gave in to John Ewart when he required the money, and he, at my desire, produced it to you, which you sustained. A great many of the like instances were told, of which I cannot remember the persons' names and sums. But, added he, what vexes me more than all these is the injustice I did to Homer Maxwell, tenant to Lord Nithsdale, for whom I was factor. I had borrowed 2000 merks from him, 500 of which he borrowed from another hand, and I gave him my bond. For reasons I contrived, I obliged him to secrecy. He died within the year. He had nine children, and his wife had died a month before himself. I came to seal up his papers for my lord's security. His eldest daughter entreated me to look through them all, and to give her an account what was their stock and what was their debt. I very willingly undertook it, and in going through his papers I put my own bond in my pocket. His circumstances proved bad, and the nine children are now starving. These things I desire you to represent to my wife; take her brother with you, and let them be immediately rectified, for she has sufficient fund to do it upon, and, if that were done, I think I would be easy and happy. Therefore I hope you will make no delay. _Ogilvie_--After a short pause I answered--'Tis a good errand, Coul, that you are sending me to do justice to the oppressed and injured; but notwithstanding that I see myself among the rest that come in for £200 Scots, yet I beg a little time to consider on the matter. THE FOURTH CONFERENCE. Upon the 10th of April, 1722, coming from Old Camus, upon the post road I met with Coul, as formerly, upon the head of the path called the _Pease_. He asked me if I had considered the matter he had recommended? I told him I had, and was in the same opinion that I was of when we parted: that I could not possibly undertake his commission unless he would give it in writing under his hand. I wanted nothing but reason to determine me, not only in that, but all other affairs of my life. I added that the list of his grievances was so long that I could not possibly remember them without being in writing. I know, said he, that this is a mere evasion; but tell me if your neighbour, the laird of Thurston, will do it? I would gladly wait upon him. _Ogilvie_--I am sure, said I, he will not, and if he inclined so I would do what I could to hinder him, for I think he has as little concern in these matters as I. But tell me, Coul, is it not as easy for you to write your story as it is to tell it, or to ride on--what-is-it-you-call-him? for I have forgotten your horse's name. _Coul_--No, sir, 'tis not, and perhaps I may convince you of it afterwards. _Ogilvie_--I would be glad to hear a reason that is solid for your not speaking to your wife yourself. But, however, any rational creature may see what a fool I would make of myself if I should go to Dumfries and tell your wife that you had appeared to me and told me of so many forgeries and villainies which you had committed, and that she behoved to make reparation. The event might, perhaps, be that she would scold me; for as 'tis very probable, she will be loth to part with any money she possesses, and therefore tell me I was mad, or possibly might pursue me for calumny. How could I vindicate myself? how should I prove that ever you had spoken with me? Mr Paton and the rest of my brethren would tell me that it was a devil who had appeared to me, and why should I repeat these things as truth, which he that was a liar from the beginning had told me? Chapel and Barnhourie would be upon my top and pursue me before the Commissary, and everybody will look upon me as brainsick or mad. Therefore, I entreat you, do not insist upon sending me an April errand. The reasonableness of my demand I leave to your consideration, as you did your former to mine, for I think what I ask is very just. But dropping these matters till our next interview, give me leave to enter upon some more diverting subject; and I do not know, Coul, but through the information given to me, you may do as much service to mankind as the redress of all the wrongs you have mentioned would amount to, &c. Authorities Consulted and Quoted. No. Page 1. Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, appendix p. 228 11 2. Hereditary Sheriffs of Galloway, vol. II., p. 13 14 3. Do. do. p. 459 15 4. _Gallovidian_, vol. IV., p. 40 17 5. Andrew Donaldson, Esq., Ardwell, Stranraer, letter from 24 6. Do. do. 24 7. Do. do. 25 8. Do. do. 26 9. Do. do. 29 10. Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, appendix p. 230 31 11. Wigtown: Historical and Descriptive Sketches, by Fraser, p. 359 34 12. East Galloway Sketches (Dalry), p. 349 35 13. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Superstitious Custom in Galloway," by J. M'Kie (March, 1895) 40 14. John Copland, Esq., The Studio, Dundrennan, letter from 43 15. Do. do. 44 16. Do. do. 46 17. Do. do. 49 18. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Folk-Lore in Tynron," by James Shaw (November, 1887) 50 19. Folk-Lore of Uppermost Nithsdale, by Wilson, p. 17 52 20. The Bard and Belted Knight, by Johnstone, p. 21 53 21. Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, appendix p. 233 56 22. Andrew Donaldson, Esq., Ardwell, Stranraer, letter from 57 23. East Galloway Sketches (Dalry), p. 350 58 24. Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia (2nd ed.), p. 114 59 25. Law's Memorials, edited by Kirkpatrick Sharpe 62 26. The Book of Galloway (privately printed) 64 27. History of Galloway, by Mackenzie, vol. II., appendix p. 37 77 28. Do. do. p. 40 82 29. Do. do. p. 42 87 30. History of Dumfries, by M'Dowall (2nd ed.,) p. 375 91 31. The Book of Kirkpatrick-Durham, by Stark, p. 94 93 32. The Scots Worthies (Howie), by John Semple 93 33. History of the Parish of Minnigaff, by Jas. G. Kinna, p. 119 96 34. Wigtown: Historical and Descriptive Sketches, by Fraser, p. 360 97 35. Kirkmaiden, Guide to, by Andrew Donaldson, p. 40 98 36. History of Dumfries, by M'Dowall (2nd ed.), p. 377 111 37. Do. do. p. 375 112 38. Do. do. p. 376 113 39. Do. do. p. 376 113 40. Do. do. p. 376 115 41. History of Dumfries, by M'Dowall (2nd ed.), p. 375 116 42. Do. do. p. 377 116 43. Do. do. p. 379 117 44. Domestic Annals of Scotland, vol. III., p. 66 118 45. History of Dumfries, by M'Dowall (2nd ed.), pp. 378 and 379 120 46. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Kirk-session Records of Irongray Parish, 1691-1700" (February, 1906) 122 47. Unique Traditions of the West and South of Scotland, by Barbour--"The Witch's Well" 124 48. History of Witchcraft in Scotland, by C. Kirkpatrick Sharpe, p. 160 131 49. Law's Memorials, edited by Kirkpatrick Sharpe 141 50. The Testimony of Tradition, by M'Ritchie, p. 115 161 51. Hereditary Sheriffs of Galloway, by Agnew, vol. II., pp. 168 and 169 164 52. Droll Recollections of Whithorn, by Jas. F. Cannon, p. 105 166 53. Galloway Gossip, by "Saxon"--"Riddled in the Reek"--p. 289 169 54. _Dumfries and Galloway Magazine_, 1822--"Glenkens Anecdotes"--p. 456 172 55. The Castle-Douglas Miscellany, 1827 174 56. Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, appendix p. 241 176 57. Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, appendix p. 239 177 58. Do. do. p. 242 179 59. Do. do. p. 238 180 60. Do. do. p. 246 182 61. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Folk-Lore of Glencairn," by John Corrie (February, 1891) 183 62. Folk-Lore of Uppermost Nithsdale, by Wilson, p. 75 184 63. Bard and Belted Knight, by Johnstone, p. 19 185 64. Cromek's Remains of Galloway and Nithsdale Song, appendix p. 265 188 65. Do. do. p. 266 190 66. Do. do. p. 268 191 67. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Folk-Lore of Glencairn," by John Corrie (February, 1891) 202 68. Galloway Gossip, by "Saxon," p. 175 205 69. _Dumfries Standard_ 209 70. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Folk-Lore of Glencairn," by John Corrie (December, 1890) 212 71. Drumlanrig and the Douglases, by Ramage, p. 185 214 72. Celtic Lecture, Glasgow University, by Dr Henderson 218 73. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Bee Folk-Lore," by P. Dudgeon (May, 1892) 218 74. Life and Times of the Rev. John Wightman, D.D., p. 120 224 75. The Laird of Lag, by Lieut.-Col. Fergusson, appendices II. and III., p. 251 227 76. Do. do. p. 144 232 77. Old Church Life in Scotland, by Edgar (2nd series), p. 249 239 78. Memorials of Sanquhar Kirkyard, by Tom Wilson (_Courier and Herald_, Dumfries) 240 79. Hereditary Sheriffs of Galloway, by Agnew, vol. II., p. 164 248 80. Wigtown: Historical and Descriptive Sketches, by Fraser, p. 208 253 81. Jas. F. Cannon, Esq., Edinburgh, letter from 254 82. Do. do. 256 83. Galloway Gossip, by "Saxon," p. 337 258 84. The Tinkler-Gypsies of Galloway, by M'Cormick, p. 123 263 85. John Copland, Esq., The Studio, Dundrennan, letter from 269 86. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Kirkbean Folk-Lore," by Sam. Arnott, Esq. (November, 1894) 274 87. Appendix to the earlier (1774, 1781, 1816) editions of Howie's Scots Worthies 282 88. John Corrie, Esq., Burnbank, Moniaive, letter from 283 89. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of (March 14th, 1902) 293 90. Reminiscences of Thomas Carlyle, by Froude (Longmans, Green & Co., 1881) 294 91. Poets of Dumfriesshire, by Miller (1910), p. 220 295 92. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of (November 18th, 1898) 296 93. Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society, Transactions of--"Antiquities of Eskdalemuir," by Rev. John C. Dick (November 18th, 1896) 297 94. Concerning Certain Apparitions, by Frances M'Laughlin (_Chambers' Journal_, January 1909) 299 GLOSSARY. The student of Scots dialect will not always find the quoted vernacular running through the text quite pure, many words having been unconsciously modified by a too free use of phonetic spelling. A ADDER-STANE, the adder-bead charm. ADOWE, stir. AIRLESS, heirless. AIRT, direction. ANON, immediately, thereupon. ASK, newt. AVA, at all. AWSOMLY, in fear. B BACKGANE, not thriving, wasting. BAGS, entrails. BAYILLIS, bailies. BEES BIZIN', noises in the head caused by alcohol. BELDAM, an old woman. BELTANE, the festival of May first. BEK, bake. BENISON, prognostication for good. BENSHEE, a banshee or fairy, really an Irish fairy. BERRY, thresh. BESOME, broom. "BEST AUCHT," the most valuable possession, usually a horse or ox, claimed by the superior on the death of a farm tenant. BICKERING, moving noisily. BIEN, prosperous. BIGGIT, built. BINWUD, ivy. BLACK-SPAULD (SPAUL), a pleuritic disease of cattle. BLEW SPOT, a significant witch-mark also another term for "dede-nip." BLINMENS' BAWS, common puff-ball (devil's snuff-box). BLINKING, attractive, comely. BLUIDY-FINGERS, foxglove. BOGLE-BO, hobgoblin. BOOR-TREE, elder-tree. BOWCAIL, cabbage. BOWTE, to strike against. BRATTLE, a clattering sound. BRECKAN, bracken. BREERS, briars "BROCKEN," the important mediæval place of witch festival in Germany (see _Faust_). BROSE, pease-meal mixed with boiling water. BUMBEE, humble-bee. BUTTER-SKEP, butter-basket. BYKE, a wasp's or bee's nest. C "CA CUTTIE CA," called upon to eat freely, even greedily. "CANNIE MOMENT," significant time. CANTIE, canty, contentedly. CANTRIP, charm or spell. CAP, caup, a wooden bowl. CARLE, a man. CERTES, certainly. CHAMPIT, bruised. CHANNEL-STANE, curling-stone. CHESSEL, the tub for pressing cheese. CHICKEN-WORT, chicken-weed. CHIST (KIST), a wooden box. CHOWED, chewed. CLOWT, cloth. COG, a wooden domestic vessel. COGFU', the full of such a vessel. COMPEARED, appeared. COUPE, to empty or capsize. COUTERS, thick mucous secretion. COUTHIE, in rude comfort. COWER, to bend down. COWES, bushes, more particularly of the broom. COWSHERNE, cow-dung. CRAFT, croft or field. CRONE, hag, old woman. CROUSELY, proudly. "CRUMMIE," a term for cows with usually crooked horns. CRUNE, a murmuring sound, sometimes threatening. CRUPPEN, contracted. D DEAD-BELI } } DEDE-CHACK } } DEDE-DRAP } } DEID-LICHT } See text, pages 210 to 213. } DEDE-NIP } } DEDE-SPALL } } DEDE-SPEAL } } DEAD-WATCH } DEIL'S MILK, milky sap. DEMPSTER, judge. DEERAY, disorder. DIVINATION, conjuration. DOME, doom. DONNERT, stupid. DOOR (DOUR) here used (page 59) in the sense of sour or astringent. DRABBLED, slobbered. DRUBBING, thrashing. DRUGGET, coarse woollen cloth. DRUMLIE, thick. DWINED, pined away or wasted. E EEN, eyes. "EFFIGIES CLERICORUM," a mock poem on the clergie when they met to consult about taking the Test in the year 1681 (printed A.D. MDCXVII.). ELFIN, fairy. ESHEITE, forfeited. F FALD, fold. FARINTOSH, whisky. FASH, trouble. FEARIE, used here (page 203) in the sense of fearless. FEAT, tidy. FEATS, clever doings. FECKET, under-jacket. FEN, to strive hard for the means of livelihood. FEY, a small field or croft. FIENT, no one at all. FIRSLE, to rustle. FLEYED, frightened. FLUTTERBAWS, puff-balls (see blinmens' baws). FOGGY, mossy. FORFOCHTEN, exhausted. FOWK, people. FRENZIET, eccentric, mad. FUMART, pole-cat. G GALL, bile. GARS, makes or compels. GAUR, to compel. GELLOCKS, earwigs. GIRN, girning, whining, or fretting. GLAMOUR, bewitchment. GLED, kite. GLENTED, sparkled, gleamed. GLOWER, to gaze intently. GOWAN, mountain daisy. GOWK'S SPITTLES, plant froth (discharged by an insect, Cicada). GREETS, cries or weeps. GRINWAN, a noose of horse-hair attached to a stick or rod. GRUN, ground, referring to the grinding of grain. GYRE-CARLINE, a mother-witch. H HAED, possessed. "HAGGERT WEE GRANUM," a rather ragged small old woman. HAG-RIDDEN, bewitched (_lit._, ridden by a witch). HALD, hall. HALE, well, in good health. HALLOW-EVE, the night before All-Hallow. HALVE, a hand-fishing net on a wooden frame. HANNIE, suitable, a fitting time. HANTLE, much. HAURNED, roasted. HAURPAN, brain-pan or skull. HAWCKET, probably finely chopped. HAWS, fruit of the hawthorn. HEREZELD, the best beast on the land, given to the landlord on the death of a farm tenant. HERIOT, the fine exacted by the superior on the death of a tenant. HERRIE, confiscate. HEUGH, a small height or eminence. HIP O', shoulder or edge of. HINNIE-SUCKLES, honeysuckle. HOOSE-RIGGIN', roof. HOOVES, abdomen, (_lit._, swollen by gaseous distension). HOWE, depth. HOUK, to dig up. HOWLET, an owl. HOWS, house. HYNT, caught up. I ILK, the same name. ILL E'E, evil eye. J JIMP, neat and slender. JOW, ringing of a bell. K KAIN, rent or exchange in kind. "KELLY," Satan, Old Nick. KEP SKAITH, avert evil. KEPPIT, caught. KILTED, tucked up. KIMMER, witch-wife or "gossip." KNAG, keg, or wooden vessel. "KNOCK THE BIG," to hull the barley. KOW, a goblin. KYE, cows or oxen. L LAIR, quagmire, to entice into a quagmire. LAMMASTIDE, August, beginning of. LAVE, remainder. LIFT, vault of the heavens. LINGLE, leather-thong. LOCHEN, small loch or tarn. LOOFIE, fingerless glove. LOUPES, jumps. LOURING, lowering of clouds. LOUTHE, abundance. LOWNE, silent, still. LOWSE, loosen. LUGS, ears. M MALEFICES, offences. MALISON, prognostication for evil. MART, a fattened ox (killed at Martinmas for winter use). MAUN, must. MAUT, meal. MEAL-ARK, meal chest. MEALL, male. MEIKLE, much. MEIL, meal. METTLE, with spirit. "MILKED THE TETHER," extracted the milk by witchcraft through the halter. MINNIE, mother. MOOLS, earth or soil. MORT-CLOTH, funeral pall. MOU', mouth. MUIR-ILL, a disease specially affecting black cattle. N NAIG, riding-horse or nag. NAPPLE-ROOTS, heath peas. NEERS, kidneys. NEIST, nearest or next. NETTLE-STINGERS, nettle leaves. NIEVE, hand or fist. NOB, nose, also boat's prow. NOOL-SHEARINGS, horn parings. NOWT, oxen (a corrupt form is noat). O O'ERSWAK, sound of breakers. ONSTEAD, home or farm-steading. P PADDOCK, a frog. PAWKY, shrewd and crafty. PAWT, movement of foot, kick. PHILIBEG, a pouch worn in front of a kilt. PICKLE, small quantity. PIG, an earthenware vessel. PINGLE, a small pan. PIRN, a reel. PIZION, poison. PLOTCOCK, the Devil. POULDER, gun-powder. POYNTIS, points. POW, head or skull. PREENS, pins. PUDDOCKS (YELLOW), here (page 58) probably the toad-stool fungus. PYCKERING, pilfering. PYET, magpie. PYKED, picked. Q QUARTER-ILL, a disease of cattle affecting one limb or quarter only. QUEEN (QUEAN), girl, damsel. R RASPS, raspberries. "RAVE THE THACK," tear the thatch. REAMIN, full to overflowing. REDE, wild. REDE, counsel. REID, red. REMEID, remedy. RIDDLE, sieve. RIDDLE-TURNING, divination by means of a riddle balanced on the points of scissors. RINNEN DOON (DARN), a disease of cattle with diarrhoea present. RIPPISH, cleanly. RESSET, receive. ROSSEN, clump of thorns. ROUTH, abundance. ROWANS, mountain-ash berries. RUE, regret. RYDAND, riding. RYE-BOWT (RYBAT), hewn stone. S SAIN, to make the sign of the cross. SALL, shall. SAMIN, same. SARK, shirt or chemise. SAUGH, willow. SAWNS, sands. SCAITH, injury. SCAUM, thin mist. SCARROW (SCARRIE), stony incline. SCLATER, wood-louse. SCRUNKED, dried (_lit._, shrunk). SEGG, yellow iris plant. SHEIP, sheep. SHEARINGS, clippings or parings. SHIELING, a shepherd's hut. SHILPED (SHILPIT), puny and shrunken. "SICH AND GREIN," sigh and regret. SIDE-ILL, a disease of cattle named from the situation of the disease. SIEW, sieve. SINDRIE, sundry. SKAITH, injury. SKELLET, dead-bell. SKIMES, side-glances. SKIRL, a shrill cry. SLADE, glided. SLAVERIN', saliva running down. SLOCKENED, quenched, _i.e._, put out. SLUDGE, miry-mud. SMOORED, smothered. SORNING, exacting free board and lodging. SOUGH, moaning as of wind. SOWENS, a dish made by steeping, fermenting, and then boiling the husks or siftings of oats in water. SPANGS, leaps or bounds. SPATTER'D, dropped. SPENCE, country parlour. SPURTLE, porridge-stick. STANCE, stand. STARNIES, stars. STAVERING, sauntering. STICK AND STOWRE, completely. STRAUGHTED, straightened in preparation for burial. STRICKEN HOUR, a full hour. STUE, stew or concoction. SUGHS, moaning of the wind. SWARFED, swooned. SWEIR, reluctant. SWITCHING, threshing with a thin stick or switch. SYNE, afterwards. T TADE, toad. TAIL-ILL, a disease of animals affecting the tail. "TAK' THE GAIT," peremptory dismissal. TAIN ALOWE, caught fire. TAPPIN, the crest of a hill. TATE, spot (_lit._, a small lock of hair). THACKLESS, roofless. THIGGING, begging. THRAW, a twist. THREID, thread. THRISSLES, thistles. TIRLED, rattled at the door. TOD, a fox. TOOM, empty. TOUK OF DRUM, sound of drum. TREDDED, trodden. TRYSTED, made an appointment with. U UNCA, unusually. UNCHANCY, ill-omened. UNSONSY, ill-proportioned. UNYIRTHLY, unearthly. V VAUNTY, inclined to be boastful. VACANS, holidays. W WALPURGIS NIGHT, Eve of First of May, a night of witch revelry (see witch Sabbath). WAUCHIE, clammy. WARBLES, a parasitic worm disease of cattle. WATER-ILL, a disease of the kidneys in cattle. WATTLES, wooden roof supports on which the thatch is placed. WHOMEL'D, turned round and round (_lit._, upset). WHORLED, wheeled or spun. WIGHT, man or fellow. WIND A CLEW, a witchcraft rite in which a reel of coloured thread is wound. WINGLAN, walking feebly. WIRREIT, strangled. WIS, know. WITCH'S SABBATH, the gathering together of all the witches of Scotland on the evening between the first Friday and Saturday of April. WITHRE-SHINES, contrarily (_lit._, against the sun's course). WONS, dwells. WYLIE, wily. WYME, belly. WYTE, blame. Y YAIRD, yard or garden. YELL, barren, dry. YESTREEN, last night. YILL-BOAT, ale-barrel or brewing tub. YIRBS, herbs. YOWLED, howled. YULE, Christmas, also Hogmanay (December 31st). [Illustration] INDEX. A Abbey of Glenluce, 15, 61 Abbey of Holm-Cultram, 16 Abraham Crichton, Ghost of, 285 Abraham Crichton, Laying of ghost of, 287 Act against Witchcraft (1563), 66 Act for burying in Scots linen (1686), 220 Adder Beads, 55 Agnew, Sir Andrew, 245 Agnews of Galdenoch, 245 Aikieslak (Dalbeattie), 274 Aikendrum, 191 Alloway Kirk, 17 Annan River, 290 Auchabrick House (ghost legend), 250 Auchencairn, 300 Auchenmalg Barracks, 257 Auchensheen (Colvend), 185 Auchenstroan (Glencairn), 283 B Ballad--Prisoner of Spedlins, 291 Balmaghie, 46 Bard of Corrie, 213 "Bards of Galloway," 166 Barnamon (Stoneykirk), 37 Barncorkerie, 154 Barr, 13 Beadle (Sexton), 241 Bee Folklore, 218 Bell of St. Ninian (Clog Rinny), 243 Bellknowe of Penninghame, 243 Bengairn, 172 Bess o' Borgue, 17 Birns, 47 Bishop's Castle (Kirkmaiden), 154 Bishopton Crofts (Whithorn), 254 Blackaddie (Sanquhar), 51 Black Art, 10, 16 "Black Clud's Wyme," 16 Black Esk, 296 Blackett Tower (legend of spectre), 294 Bladnoch, 64 Blew Spot, 213 Blink o' an ill e'e, 26 "Bloody Bell," 295 "Bloody Passage" (Drumlanrig), 282 "Bluidy Brae," 73 Bodsbeck Ha', 188 Bogha (Balmaclellan), 72 Bogle-Hole (Dalry), 267 Bonshaw Tower, 294 "Book of Galloway," 62 Bower, Walter, Abbot of Inchcolm, 277 Boyd, Rev. Mr (Dalry, 1690), 34 Breath-blasting, 182 Brig o' Ken, 18 Brishie (Minnigaff), 185 "Brocken" of Dumfries and Galloway, 7 Brocklock Burn, 42 Brownie, The, 186 Brownie o' Blednoch, 149, 191 Brownie of Newabbey, 190 Buckland Burn, 270 Buckland Glen, Ghost of, 269 Buittle, 301 Burial without Coffins, 237 Burnfoot, 45 Burnes, William (father of Poet), funeral of, 234 C Caerlaverock Castle, 2, 10, 277 Cairn, 283 Cairnmon (Stoneykirk), 37 Cantrip Incantations, 58 Cardoness Castle, 151 Cardrain, Ghost of, 251 Carlin's Cairn, 35 Carrick, 13 Carsphairn Parish (origin of), 55 Castle-Douglas, 63 Cassencarry, 262 Changelings, 182 Charles the Second, 36 Charms against Witchcraft, 54 Churchyard Superstitions, 239 Cere-cloth, 227 Clash, The (Kirkmaiden), 23 Claunch (Sorbie), 253 Clay Slap (Glenluce), 14 "Clog Rinny" (Bell of St. Ninian), 243 Closeburn, 49 Cocklick, 173 Coltran, Provost (Wigtown), Ghost of, 252 Comyn, John (murder of and ghostly legend), 276 Corbie, Janet, Sentence of, 80 Corrie (Dumfriesshire), 53 Craigdhu (Glasserton), 254 Craighlaw House (ghost legend), 257 Craik of Arbigland (family tragedy), 275 Crichton Family, 284 Crawick Mill, Witches of, 50 "Cromek's Remains," 10, 182 Cubbox (Balmaclellan), 72 Culloch, 173 Cumberland, 46 Cunningham, Allan, 9 D Dalry, 34, 35, 57, 263 Dalry Kirk, 17 "Daemonologie," 67 Dead-bell, 212 Dead-bell (skellat), 241 Dead-days, 217 Dead-watch, 212 "Dear Meal Johnny," 213 Death Customs and Funeral Ceremony, 216 Dede-chack, 212 Dede-drap, 212 Dede-nip, 212 Dede-spall, 212 Dee, The, 47 Deid-lichts, 213 Derry's Howe (Kirkbean), 274 Devil's Grace, 62 Devil of Glenluce, 252 "Devil-Raiser of Urr," 106 Dinnans (Whithorn), 97 Douglas, Sir Wm., of Gelston, 62 Dream of the Abbot of Tungland, 16 Dribblings (Kirkmaiden), 24 "Droll Recollections of Whithorn" (Cannon), 165 Drumlane, 173 Drumlanrig Castle, 282 Drummore, 55 Drumrash, 269 Duncan, Henry, of Ruthwell, 235 Dunbars of Mochrum, 262 Dundrennan, 269 Dunnan Fort, 149 Dunreggan (Moniaive), 202 Dunskey Castle, 244 E Edinburgh Bibliographical Society publications (note on Jean Maxwell), 99 "Effigies Clericorum," 142 Elf-cups, 55 Eliock, 284 Elspeth M'Ewen-- Suspected of Witchcraft, 72 Examined, 73 Prison Expenses, 73 Commission appointed for new trial, 74 Execution at Silver Craigs, Kirkcudbright, 77 Note of expenses of trial and execution, 78 Executioner's petition, 80 Encoffining, or "kistin'," 219 Eskdalemuir Parish, 296 Eskdale Moor (funeral adventures), 223 F Fairies and Brownies, 143 Fairies-- Attitude towards mankind, 143 Capriciousness of, 144 Elf-shot wounds, 144 Explanation of fairy and brownie belief, 148, 149 "Fairy Rade," 176 Fairy Park (Logan), 157 Feasting and dancing, 143 "Good neighbours," 144 Kidnapping by, 145 Pageants, 143 Practices to counteract fairy influence, 146 Unreality of fairy fabric, 147 "Wee fouk," 144 Fairy-lore in Galloway and Dumfriesshire (from West to East)-- Dunnan Fort, 149 Kirkmaiden, 151 Barncorkerie, 154 Compass Stone (Port Logan), 156 Ringuinea, 157 Nick of the Balloch, 158 Curghie Glen, 158 Grennan, 158 Kirkbride, 158 Killumpha, 158 Slock-an-a-gowre, 158 Sorbie, 166 Kirkinner, 166 Longhill, 166 Dalry District, 169 Hazelfield (Auchencairn), 172 Nick of Lochenkit, 172 Dalbeattie, 172 Edingham Loch, 172 Long Wood (Lochanhead), 174 Dumfriesshire-- Caerlaverock, 180 Auchencreath, 175 Dalswinton, 183 Closeburn, 182 Drumlanrig, 183 Sanquhar, 184 Kirkconnel, 184 Polveoch, 184 Kello Water, 184 Glen Aylmer, 184 Glen Wharry, 184 Bale Hill, 186 Annandale, 184 Lochmaben, 175 Burnswark, 184 Corrie, 185 Fin M'Coul, 43 "Fire Spangs of Faustus," 16 Funeral festivities ("Gallovidian Encyclopædia"), 232 Funeral refreshment (Draigie), 234 Funeral rites and customs, 236 Funeral "services," 225 G Galdenoch Tower, 245 "Galloway Gossip," 166 Galloway Mansion near Castle-Douglas, Ghostly story of, 273 "Galloway Register," 26 "Galloway Traditions," 26 Galloway, Western, Traditions of, 22 Gap's Mill, Glencairn, 283 Garryhorn, 36 Gatehouse, 262 General Assembly (Condemnatory Acts), 68 "Gentle Shepherd" (extract from), 59 Ghost-lore and Haunted Houses, 244 Ghost Legends of the South-west of Scotland (arranged in their order, from West to East)-- Dunskey Castle, 244 Galdenoch Tower, 245 "Lodnagappal Plantin'," 248 High Ardwell, 248 Auchabrick House, 250 Cardrain House, 251 Tirally, 251 Glenluce, 252 Provost Coltran (Drummorall), 252 Packman's Grave (Bladnoch), 253 Claunch, Sorbie, 254 Whithorn, 254 Craigdhu, Glasserton, 255 Church of Kirkmaiden, 256 Auchenmalg Barracks, 257 Craighlaw House, 257 Machermore Castle, 258 Creetown, 262 Kirkdale Bridge, 263 Glenlee, Dalry, 263 Bogle-Hole, Dalry, 267 Moor of Corsock, 267 Buckland Glen, 269 Ringcroft of Stocking, 272 Mansion House near Castle-Douglas, 273 Wood Forester's, Dalbeattie, 274 Laird o' Coul's Ghost, 300, 344 Kirkbean-- Murder Fall, 274 Derry's How, 274 Farm-house, 274 Howlet's Close, 275 Three Cross Roads, 275 Near Newabbey, 276 Minorite Friary, Dumfries (1306) and Caerlaverock Castle, (1358), 276 Solway legend of the passing of "Aul' Lag," 278 Coach legend of passing of William Duke of Queensberry (Drumlanrig), 281 Drumlanrig Castle, 282 Tynron Doon, 282 Glencairn-- Auchenstroan, 283 Marwhirn, 283 Pentoot, 283 Gaps Mill, 283 Nut Wood, 283 Jarbruck Bridge, 283 Kirkland Bridge, 283 Sanquhar Castle, 283 Littlemark, Sanquhar, 284 Abraham Crichton's Ghost, 285 Poldean, Wamphray, 287 Spedlins Tower, 288 Jardine Hall, 290 Knockhill, 293 Orchard, Hoddom, 294 Bonshaw Tower, 294 Blackett Tower, 294 Kirkconnel Hall, 295 Todshawhill, 296 Lowland Manor House, 298 Gilchristland, 50 Gilroanie, 270 "Girzie M'Clegg," 17 Glasserton, 165, 215 Glencairn, 283 "Glencairn Kate," 17 Glencaple Quay, 199 Glenkens, 19 Glenkens, twenty years' holidaying in (Blacklock), 265 Glenlee House (ghost narrative), 263 Glenluce, 13, 14 Greenmill (Caerlaverock), 209 Grennan, The, 25 Grierson, John, of Lag (funeral expenses of), 227 Grierson of Lag, Sir Robert (funeral expenses of), 229 Grierson of Lag, Sir Robert (funeral legend), 230 Grierson of Lag (Solway legend of his "passing"), 278 Grose's "Antiquities of Scotland," 289 "Gyre Carline," 8 H Hallowmass, 2 Hallowmass Rade, 3 Hannayston, Witch of, 17 Harper's "Rambles in Galloway," 17 Hay of Park, 60 Heron, Robert (Journey through Western Scotland), 54 High Ardwall (white woman apparition), 248 Holm Glen (Dalry), 275 Howlet's Close (Kirkbean), 275 "Hydrostatics," Sinclair's, 300 I "Il Penseroso" (extract from), 186 Inshanks Moor, 29 Irvings of Hoddom, 293 J James VI. of Scotland, 67 Jarbruck, 283 Jardine's of Applegarth, 289 Jardine Hall, 290 "Jean o' the Howff" (Rerwick), 45 "Jock o' the Horn," 182 K Kain Bairns, 7 "Keekafar" (Kirkmaiden), 155 Kells, 35 Kells Rhynns, 36 Keltonhill, 40 Kenmure (Stoneykirk), 157 Kenmure Castle (Dalry), 269 Killymingan (Kirkgunzeon), 105 Killumpha Farm (Kirkmaiden), 204 Kilmeny (Jas. Hogg), 146 Kincaid, John (Witch-pricker), 70 King's Croft of Stocking, 63 Kirkdale Bridge, Ghost of, 263 Kirkdale House, 262 Kirkmaiden, 22, 29, 151 Kirkmaiden Church, 30 Kirkmaiden, Legend of, 256 Kirkmaiden Witches, 29, 32, 98 Kirk-session (Borgue) examination for alleged fairycraft, 159 Kirkpatricks of Closeburn, 214, 227, 231, 284 Kirkpatrick, Roger, 277 Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Charles, 288 Kirkwaugh (Bladnoch), pedlar's ghost at, 253 Kippford, 274 Kirkennan Woods (Dalbeattie), 199 Kirkland Bridge (Glencairn), 283 Knockhill Mansion (tragedy at), 293 Knocknishy (Whithorn), 185 Knocksheen (Dalry), 17 L Lady Ashburton, 267 Laird o' Coul's Ghost, 344 Langhill Fairy, The, 166 Lapps or Finns, 149 Latewake, 223 Law's Memorials, 287 "Lay of the last Minstrel" (extract from), 16 Liethin Hall, 187 Leswalt, 245 Levitical Law, 68 Library of Michael Scott (list of works), 16 Lichts before death, 209 Lindsay, James (Caerlaverock tragedy), 277 Little Cocklick (Urr), 101 Littlemark Farm, Sanquhar, Ghostly appearance at, 284 Locharbriggs Hill, 3 Lochar Moss, 8 Loch Doon, 36 "Lodnagappal Plantin," Apparitions at, 248 Logan, 24, 25 Logan Mill, 31 Lord Crichton (6th), 284 Lord Glenlee, 263 Lords of Sanquhar, 284 Lord Stormonth, 227 Lotus Hill (Kirkgunzeon), 173 Loup o' the Grennan, 151 Low Curghie (Kirkmaiden), 24 Luce, 13, 15 Luce Bay, 215 Lykewake, 223 M Machars of Galloway, 33 Machermore Castle, Legend of, 258 Maggie's gate to Gallowa', 13 Mainsriddel, 274 "Maggie o' the Moss," 6, 17, 21 "Mak' Siccar" (tragedy, Dumfries), 278 Manor House in Lowlands (story of apparition), 298 Manxman's Lake, 270 March Moon, 55 Marshall, Rev. Mr (Kirkmaiden), 97, 248 Marwhirn, 283 Millar, Mary (alleged witch), 74 Mary Queen of Scotland (Act against witchcraft), 66 Master of Logan (Allan Cunningham), 19 Maxwell of Carriel (Carzield), 227 Maxwell of Dalswinton, 188 Maxwells of Monreith (successors to M'Cullochs), 214 Maxwell, Thomas (Laird of Coul), 301 Maxwell, Jean, trial of (for pretended witchcraft), 98 Maxwell, Jean (copy of title page of publication of trial), 110 Meg Elson (Kirkmaiden witch), 32 Meg Elson's Elegy, 32 Meg Macmuldroch (Galloway witch), 62 Melrose Abbey, 16 Michael Scott of Balwearie, 15 Mochrum Parish (extravagant funeral expenditure), 226 Moffat Churchyard, 213 Monkland Shore, 44 Monreith House, 161 Moor of Corsock (ghost of headless piper), 267 Moor of the Genoch, 248 Moor Kirk of Luce, 13 Mort-cloth (use of), 239 Mountsallie (Rhinns), Witchcraft at, 57 Muirhead, Dr James, 107 Mull of Galloway, 149 Murder Fall (Kirkbean), 274 Myrton Mound (fairy legend), 161 M'Cullochs of Myrton, 214 M'Culloch, Sir Godfrey, 151 M'Millan Cup, 195 M'Milligan of Dalgarnock, 283 N "Necromancy," 16 Newabbey, Witchcraft at, 10 Newabbey (ghost of lady in white), 276 Nicholas Grier (witch of Hannayston), 17 Nick o' the Balloch, 13 "Nithsdale Minstrel" (poetical collection), 34 Nith, 51, 189 Nut Wood, Maxwelton (Moniaive), 283 Nicholson, Wm., poet (fairycraft examination, recollection by his mother), 159 O "Old Church life in Scotland" (Edgar), 237 Old Hall at Ecclefechan, Ghost at, 295 Old House of Park, 61 Old John Orr (Carlyle reminiscence), 293 Old Meg of Twynholm (reputed witch), 43 Old Red Cap (ghost of Blackett Tower), 294 Old Turnpike House, Dumfries, 231 Orchard, Hoddom (laying of ghost), 294 Osborne, "Maggie" (Wigtownshire witch), 11 P Packman's Grave (Bladnoch), 258 Palmallet (Whithorn), 96 Palnackie, 199 "Passing Bell" (custom of ringing), 241 Passing Bell (reference in "Book of Galloway"), 243 Patiesthorn, Legend of, 269 "Pawky Auld Kimmer," 65 Pentoot (Glencairn), 283 "Philosophy of the Devil," 16 Picts, 148, 149 Poldean, Wamphray (ghost reference), 287 Portankill (fairy haunt), 149 Porteous, ghost of, at Spedlins Tower, 289 Portencockerie Bay (fairy haunt), 156 Port Logan, 31, 156 Portpatrick, Legend of, 245 Port-William, 254 Presbytery of Penpont (warning regarding burial festivity abuse), 234 Prestonmill, 274 "Pricking" of Witches, 70 "Prince of Darkness" (and witch revelry), 8 Privy Council Commissions (to try cases of witchcraft), 71 R Rab's Howff (Rerwick), 45 Ray's Itinerary (Dumfries), 242 Red Comyn, 277 Rerwick, 44 Rerwick Apparition, 272, 321 Rhinns, 25 Rhonehouse, 40 "Riddling in the Reek," 166 "Ridden post by a witch," 5 Ringdoo Point, 15 Ringcroft of Stocking, 272 Ringcroft of Stocking, site of, 300 Robert the Bruce, 36 "Robin Goodfellow," 186 Roodmas, 176 Rotten Row (Whithorn), 33 S Sanquhar, 50 Sanquhar Castle (ghostly legends), 283 Sanquhar, History of (Simpson), 184, 285 Sanquhar Kirkyard, 240 "Satan's Almanac," 16 "Satan's Invisible World," 300 Scots Money, 227 Shaws of Craigenbay and Craigend, 35 Shawn (Stoneykirk), 185 Shennaton (Bladnoch), 64 Shinnel Water, 283 Shirmers, 269 Sin-eating, 218 Sir Chesney Shaw, 35 Sir Walter Scott, 16, 244 Slip Coffins, 237 Solway Firth, 8 "Soothsayers' Creed," 16 Spell-casting, 60 Spedlins Tower, Ghost of, 288 Spedlins Tower Bible, 291 St. Ninian, 39 Stake Moss, Sanquhar, 239 State and Church (action against witchcraft), 22 Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, 151 Stoneykirk, 36, 248 Suicides, Burial of, 239 Surprising Story of the Devil of Glenluce, 299, 302 Sweetheart Abbey, 2, 10 T Tam o' Shanter, 6, 17 Telfair, Alexander (Minister of Rerwick), 272 Three Cross Roads (Kirkbean), 275 Tirally (Kirkmaiden), 56 Tirally, Ghost at, 251 Todshawhill, Bogle of, 296 Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, 108 Tongland, 16 Tower of Craigend, 35 Traditional Witchcraft described, 1 Train, Joseph (account of funeral superstitions), 236 True account of an apparition in Ringcroft, parish of Rerwick, 299, 321 Tynron, 49 Tynron Doon, Spectre of, 282 U "Unique Traditions of the West and South of Scotland" (Barbour), 35 Upper Nithsdale, 50 W "Warlock Feckets," 55 "Walpurgis" (witch festivals), 8 Warnings, accounts of from-- Caerlaverock, 209 Closeburn, 214 Corrie, 2 Craigdarroch, 214 Dumfries, 213 Glencairn, 210 Kirkmaiden (in Fernes), 214 Moniaive, 208 Tynron, 209 Waterside Hill (Dalry), 19 Water of Urr, 207 "Waulking" the dead, 219 Walter de Curry, 244 Well of the Co' (Kirkmaiden), 150 White Loch of Myrton, 161 Whithorn, Old Manse, 254 Whinnieliggate, 40 Whithorn (similar legend to Tam o' Shanter), 33 White Lady of Machermore, 258 "Witch Cake," 9 "Witch Chronicle, The," 16 Witches Gathering, 3 Witch Marks, 8, 70 Witch Narrative, 21 Witch Narrative (Southern Kirkcudbrightshire), 40 Witches Sabbath, 7 Witches' Stairs (Crawick), 50 Witches' Rocks (Portpatrick), 36 William, Duke of Queensberry (legend of ghostly coach), 281 Witchcraft, proceedings against, in Galloway-- Kirkcudbright (Presbytery, 1662), 72 Kirkcudbright, 1671, 72 Dalry (Kirk-session, 1696), 72 Dalry (Kirk-session, 1697), 73 Kirkcudbright, 1698, 74 Kirkcudbright, 1698, 80 Kirkcudbright, 1701, 82, 86, 87 Twynholm, 1703, 87 Urr (parish of) 1656, 91 Kirkpatrick-Durham (parish of), 92 Carsphairn (parish of), 93 Minnigaff (parish of), 93 New Luce (parish of), 96 Whithorn (parish of), 96 Kirkmaiden (parish of), 97 Kirkcudbright, 1805, 97 Maxwell, Jean, trial of (pretended witchcraft), 98 Dumfriesshire (proceedings in)-- Burgh of Dumfries, 1657, 111 Kirk-Session of Dumfries, 1658, 111 Dumfries (official information regarding the judicial burning of nine women), 112 Dumfries (attendance of clergy at the burning), 115 Dumfries (resolution against Janet Burnes, alleged witch), 115 Dumfries (warrant of execution against two alleged witches), 116 Dumfries (last trial for witchcraft in Scotland, Elspeth Rule), 117 Dumfries (Presbytery of--Southern district), 118 Caerlaverock, Kirk-session records, 118 Irongray, Kirk-session records, 120 Irongray Parish (traditional account of witch punishment), 122 Closeburn Parish, 124 Penpont Presbytery, 131 Glencairn Kirk-session records, 132 Glencairn, Case of Alexander Deuart, 133 Durisdeer, 138 Torthorwald, 140 Wood Foresters', Dalbeattie (scene of murder and ghost appearance), 273 Warnings, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212 Wraiths-- Seen at Balgreggan House, 205 " Buittle, 199 " Dalbeattie, 205 " Glencairn, 201 " Kirkmaiden, 204 " Moniaive, 202 Wraiths (account of from "Gallovidian Encyclopædia"), 202 Wylliehole, Witch of, 53 Y Yule, 278 Yule Candles, 219 FOOTNOTES: [1] The Well of the Co', Kirkmaiden, once much celebrated for the healing and medicinal properties of its waters. [2] These berries make excellent preserves. [3] Heather after being burned. [4] "Confessions of Isobell Goudie." [5] Dwining. [6] Shall be. [7] Stubble. [8] Kiln. [9] Sighing. [10] A famous haunt of witches in the parish of Rerwick. [11] Extract from King James's _Daemonologie concerning Sorcery and Witchcraft_ (1597):-- "The persons that give themselves to witchcraft are of two sorts, rich and of better accompt, poore and of baser degree. These two degrees answere to the passions in them, which the divell uses as means to entice them to his service: for such of them as are in great miserie and povertie, he allures to follow him, by promising unto them great riches and worldly commoditie. Such as though rich, yet burne in a desperate desire of revenge, he allures them by promises to get their turne satisfied to their heart's contentment." [12] "The witch mark is sometimes like a blewspot, or a little tate, or reid spots, like flea-biting; sometimes also the flesh is sunk in, and hallow, and this is put in secret places, as among the hair of the head, or eyebrows, within the lips, under the armpits, _et sic de ceteris_." Mr Robert, minister at Aberfoill, in his _Secret Commonwealth_, describes the witch's mark--"A spot that I have seen as a small mole, horny, and brown-coloured; through which mark, when a large brass pin was thrust (both in buttock, nose, and rooff of the mouth) till it bowed and became crooked, the witches, both men and women nather felt a pain nor did bleed, nor knew the precise time when this was being done to them (their eyes only being covered)."--_Law's "Memorials," ed. by C. Kirkpatrick Sharpe._ [13] The extreme penalty took two forms. The condemned were either in the first place strangled or, to use an old expression, "wirreit" and then burned; or, worse still, they were straightway burned quick (alive). [14] Thessr = Treasurer. [15] Printed in Dumfries by his brother, Robert Rae, 1718. [16] _The Parish of Glencairn_, Rev. John Monteith. [17] Coshogle mansion-house or keep, belonging to the Douglases, was situated on the hill overhanging the Enterkine burn, above the farm-house of the same name. A marriage stone, built into a cottage wall, is all that remains of the structure. [18] Sir James Douglas of Parkhead, styled Lord Torthorwald as having married the heiress of that barony, was afterwards run through the body on the High Street of Edinburgh by a nephew of Captain James Stewart, and died without uttering one word. On clearing away the rubbish, which till lately covered the pavement of the Chapel at Holyrood House, his tombstone was found, with this mutilated inscription:--"Heir lyes ane nobil and potent Lord James Douglas--and Cairlell and Torthorall wha mariet Daime Elizabeth Cairlell, air and heretrix yr. of, wha was slaine in Edinburgh ye 14 day of July, in ye yeir God 1608."--_Law's Memories._ [19] Another theory associates the fairies with the dwarfish Lapps or Finns who, driven out of their own country, settled in the outlying districts of Scotland. [20] The mother of William Nicholson the poet, a native of Borgue, where her family had long been settled, and a woman of great intelligence, often told that in her day there lived a man belonging to Borgue parish whose mother and grandmother had been examined before the Kirk-Session regarding his having been carried away by the fairies. [21] "Brownie" here synonymus with "Fairy." [22] Langhill (now Longhill), adjacent to the Rispain Roman Camp, about a mile from Whithorn on the Glasserton Road. [23] Roodmass: The festival of the finding of the Holy Cross (May 3rd). [24] "When the mother's vigilance hinders the fairies from carrying her child away, or changing it, the touch of fairy hands and their unearthly breath make it wither away in every limb and lineament like a blighted ear of corn, saving the countenance, which unchangeably retains the sacred stamp of divinity. The way to cure a breath-blasted child is worthy of notice. The child is undressed and laid out in unbleached linen new from the loom. Water is brought from a blessed well, in the utmost silence, before sunrise, in a pitcher never before wet; in which the child is washed, and its clothes dipped by the fingers of a maiden. Its limbs, on the third morning's experiment, plump up, and all its former vigour returns."--_Allan Cunningham, in "Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song."_ [25] The leaden figure of a man connected with a cascade, once a prominent feature of the gardens. [26] Simpson's _History of Sanquhar_. [27] The "Brownie" of Scotland corresponds with the "Robin Goodfellow" of England. "Tells how the drudging goblin sweat To earn his cream bowl duly set, When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day labourers could not end; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of door he flings Ere the first cock his matin rings." --_Il Penseroso_ [28] A communion cup, belonging to M'Millan, the well-known ousted minister of Balmaghie, and founder of a variety of the species _Covenanter_. This cup was treasured by a zealous disciple in the parish of Kirkcowan, and long used as a test by which to ascertain the orthodoxy of suspected persons. If, on taking the precious relic into his hand, the person trembled, or gave other symptoms of agitation, he was denounced as having bowed the knee to Baal, and sacrificed at the altar of idolatry; and it required, through his future life, no common exertion in the good cause, to efface the stigma thus fixed upon him.--_Note to original edition._ [29] Several striking examples of wraith appearance may be found in Wilson's _Folk-lore of Uppermost Nithsdale_ (1904). [30] A wonderfully graphic account of a manifestation of "deid lichts" to a Dumfries lady occurs in the _Dumfries and Galloway Monthly Magazine_, 1822, p. 169. [31] The dog. [32] "Open lock, end strife, Come death and pass life." --"Meg Merrilees" in _Guy Mannering_. [33] There seems to have been some variation in this usage. On the Borders, for example, the door was usually left wide open. (See Preparatory Note to "Young Bengie," _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_.) [34] Bearing upon this last statement of Mr Dudgeon's, the writer has been told of a comparatively recent instance in the parish of Anwoth. [35] "In the second session of the first Parliament of James VII., held at Edinburgh, 1686, an Act was passed called the 'Act for Burying in Scots Linen,' in which it was ordained, for the encouragement of the linen manufactures within the kingdom, that no person whatsoever, of high or low degree, should be buried in any shirt, sheet, or anything else, except in plain linen or cloth, of Hards made and spun within the kingdom, and without lace or point. There was specially prohibited the use of Holland, or other linen cloth made in other kingdoms: and of silk, woollen, gold, or silver, or any other stuff than what was made of Hards spun and wrought within the kingdom, under the penalty of 300 pounds Scots for a nobleman, and 200 pounds for every other person for each offence. One-half of this penalty was to go to the informer, and the other half to the poor of the parish of where the body should be interred. And, for the better discovery of contraveners, it was ordained that every minister within the kingdom should keep an account and register of all persons buried in his parish. A certificate upon oath, in writing, duly attested by two "famous" persons, was to be delivered by one of the relatives to the minister within eight days, declaring that the deceased person had been shrouded in the manner prescribed; which certificate was to be recorded without charge. The penalty was to be sued for by the minister before any judge competent; and if he should prove negligent in pursuing the contraveners within six months after the interment, he himself was liable for the said fine."--_Life and Times of Rev. John Wightman, D.D., of Kirkmahoe._ [36] Scots money, equal to one-twelfth value of our present currency, abandoned after 1760. [37] Cere-cloth--a cloth smeared with wax, put upon the body after a modified embalming, only used, on account of its expense, by the rich. [38] "An old antiquarian friend, long since dead, told me that Sir Robert had grown so corpulent in his latter days that his body could not be decently carried down the winding stair for burial; and that accordingly a portion of the wall between the two windows looking on to the Plainstones had to be temporarily removed, and that through the wide vacancy thus created the coffin was lowered down. My informant, who was old enough to remember all about the taking down of the lodging in 1826, added that the appearance of the wall between the windows justified the tradition."--Letter from Wm. M'Dowall, Esq., author of the _History of Dumfries_, to Lieut.-Col. Alexander Fergusson, author of the _Laird of Lag_. [39] A corrupt form of the Latin "dirige," from a Catholic chant for the dead. [40] A commonly used term for the dead bell is "skellat." [41] The bell here referred to was the old bell of St. Ninian, the "Clog Rinny" or bell of Saint Ninian, made of malleable iron coated with bronze, and which only measured 6-1/2 inches in height. It is mentioned in the accounts of James IV.: "March 17, 1506, in Penyghame to ane man that bure Saint Ninian's bell IX._s._" It was in existence at old Penninghame in 1684 when Symson wrote, one hundred and seventy years after. It is described and illustrated in Wilsons' _Prehistoric Annals of Scotland_ (1857). [42] Curiously enough, a few years ago, workmen engaged in the Portpatrick water and drainage scheme stumbled upon a large cavernous space at the very place where the reputed sounds of the ghostly pipe music were heard. [43] Lodnagappal (Celtic): The swamp of the horses. [44] Patiesthorn, situated at the north end of Parton Mill, overlooking Drumrash and Skirmers and the Ken below Kenmure Castle. There is no house now--only Patiesthorn Wood. [45] Captain John Garmory of the _Bardsea_, lost afterwards with all hands on the passage from Liverpool to the Water of Urr. [46] Walter Bower, or Bowmaker, Abbot of Inchcolm. [47] The account of these wonderful happenings was published in the form of a chapbook, and obtained a large circulation. [48] The first appearance that Coul made was to Dr Menzies' servant at a time he was watering his master's horse. At some subsequent appearance, while the lad was upon the same business, whether Coul had done him any real harm, or that the lad had fallen from his horse through fear and contusion, is uncertain, but so it was that the lad was found dead on the road. 
6700	----	images generously made available by the CWRU Preservation Department Digital Library SIDONIA THE SORCERESS THE SUPPOSED DESTROYER OF THE WHOLE REIGNING DUCAL HOUSE OF POMERANIA TRANSLATED BY LADY WILDE MARY SCHWEIDLER THE AMBER WITCH BY WILLIAM MEINHOLD DOCTOR OF THEOLOGY IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I. 1894 DEDICATION OF THE GERMAN EDITION. TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS _LADY LUCY DUFF GORDON,_ THE YOUNG AND GIFTED TRANSLATOR OF _"THE AMBER WITCH,"_ THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. PREFACE Amongst all the trials for witchcraft with which we are acquainted, few have attained so great a celebrity as that of the Lady Canoness of Pomerania, Sidonia von Bork. She was accused of having by her sorceries caused sterility in many families, particularly in that of the ancient reigning house of Pomerania, and also of having destroyed the noblest scions of that house by an early and premature death. Notwithstanding the intercessions and entreaties of the Prince of Brandenburg and Saxony, and of the resident Pomeranian nobility, she was publicly executed for these crimes on the 19th of August 1620, on the public scaffold, at Stettin; the only favour granted being, that she was allowed to be beheaded first and then burned. This terrible example caused such a panic of horror, that contemporary authors scarcely dare to mention her name, and, even then, merely by giving the initials. This forbearance arose partly from respect towards the ancient family of the Von Borks, who then, as now, were amongst the most illustrious and wealthy in the land, and also from the fear of offending the reigning ducal family, as the Sorceress, in her youth, had stood in a very near and tender relation to the young Duke Ernest Louis von Pommern-Wolgast. These reasons will be sufficiently comprehensible to all who are familiar with the disgust and aversion in which the paramours of the evil one were held in that age, so that even upon the rack these subjects were scarcely touched upon. The first public, judicial, yet disconnected account of Sidonia's trial, we find in the Pomeranian Library of Dähnert, fourth volume, article 7, July number of the year 1755. Dähnert here acknowledges, page 241, that the numbers from 302 to 1080, containing the depositions of the witnesses, were not forthcoming up to his time, but that a priest in Pansin, near Stargard, by name Justus Sagebaum, pretended to have them in his hands, and accordingly, in the fifth volume of the above-named journal (article 4, of April 1756), some very important extracts appear from them. The records, however, again disappeared for nearly a century, until Barthold announced, some short time since, [Footnote: "History of Rugen and Pomerania," vol. iv. p. 486.] that he had at length discovered them in the Berlin Library; but he does not say which, for, according to Schwalenberg, who quotes Dähnert, there existed two or three different copies, namely, the _Protocollum Jodoci Neumarks,_ the so-called _Acta Lothmanni,_ and that of _Adami Moesters,_ contradicting each other in the most important matters. Whether I have drawn the history of my Sidonia from one or other of the above-named sources, or from some entirely new, or, finally, from that alone which is longest known, I shall leave undecided. Every one who has heard of the animadversions which "The Amber Witch" excited, many asserting that it was only dressed-up history, though I repeatedly assured them it was simple fiction, will pardon me if I do not here distinctly declare whether Sidonia be history or fiction. The truth of the material, as well as of the formal contents, can be tested by any one by referring to the authorities I have named; and in connection with these, I must just remark, that in order to spare the reader any difficulties which might present themselves to eye and ear, in consequence of the old-fashioned mode of writing, I have modernised the orthography, and amended the grammar and structure of the phrases. And lastly, I trust that all just thinkers of every party will pardon me for having here and there introduced my supernatural views of Christianity. A man's principles, as put forward in his philosophical writings, are in general only read by his own party, and not by that of his adversaries. A Rationalist will fly from a book by a Supernaturalist as rapidly as this latter from one by a Friend of Light. But by introducing my views in the manner I have adopted, in place of publishing them in a distinct volume, I trust that all parties will be induced to peruse them, and that many will find, not only what is worthy their particular attention, but matter for deep and serious reflection. I must now give an account of those portraits of Sidonia which are extant. As far as I know, three of these (besides innumerable sketches) exist, one in Stettin, the other in the lower Pomeranian town Plathe, and a third at Stargard, near Regenwalde, in the castle of the Count von Bork. I am acquainted only with the last-named picture, and agree with many in thinking that it is the only original. Sidonia is here represented in the prime of mature beauty--a gold net is drawn over her almost golden yellow hair, and her neck, arms, and hands are profusely covered with jewels. Her bodice of bright purple is trimmed with costly fur, and the robe is of azure velvet. In her hand she carries a sort of pompadour of brown leather, of the most elegant form and finish. Her eyes and mouth are not pleasing, notwithstanding their great beauty--in the mouth, particularly, one can discover an expression of cold malignity. The painting is beautifully executed, and is evidently of the school of Louis Kranach. Immediately behind this form there is another looking over the shoulder of Sidonia, like a terrible spectre (a highly poetical idea), for this spectre is Sidonia herself painted as a Sorceress. It must have been added, after a lapse of many years, to the youthful portrait, which belongs, as I have said, to the school of Kranach, whereas the second figure portrays unmistakably the school of Rubens. It is a fearfully characteristic painting, and no imagination could conceive a contrast more shudderingly awful. The Sorceress is arrayed in her death garments--white with black stripes; and round her thin white locks is bound a narrow band of black velvet spotted with gold. In her hand is a kind of a work-basket, but of the simplest workmanship and form. Of the other portraits I cannot speak from my own personal inspection; but to judge by the drawings taken from them to which I have had access, they appear to differ completely, not only in costume, but in the character of the countenance, from the one I have described, which there is no doubt must be the original, not only because it bears all the characteristics of that school of painting which approached nearest to the age in which Sidonia lived--namely, from 1540 to 1620--but also by the fact that a sheet of paper bearing an inscription was found behind the painting, betraying evident marks of age in its blackened colour, the form of the letters, and the expressions employed. The inscription is as follows:-- "This Sidonia von Bork was in her youth the most beautiful and the richest of the maidens of Pomerania. She inherited many estates from her parents, and thus was in her own right a possessor almost of a county. So her pride increased, and many noble gentlemen who sought her in marriage were rejected with disdain, as she considered that a count or prince alone could be worthy of her hand. For these reasons she attended the Duke's court frequently, in the hopes of winning over one of the seven young princes to her love. At length she was successful; Duke Ernest Louis von Wolgast, aged about twenty, and the handsomest youth in Pomerania, became her lover, and even promised her his hand in marriage. This promise he would faithfully have kept if the Stettin princes, who were displeased at the prospect of this unequal alliance, had not induced him to abandon Sidonia, by means of the portrait of the Princess Hedwig of Brunswick, the most beautiful princess in all Germany. Sidonia thereupon fell into such despair, that she resolved to renounce marriage for ever, and bury the remainder of her life in the convent of Marienfliess, and thus she did. But the wrong done to her by the Stettin princes lay heavy upon her heart, and the desire for revenge increased with years; besides, in place of reading the Bible, her private hours were passed studying the _Amadis_, wherein she found many examples of how forsaken maidens have avenged themselves upon their false lovers by means of magic. So she at last yielded to the temptations of Satan, and after some years learned the secrets of witchcraft from an old woman. By means of this unholy knowledge, along with several other evil deeds, she so bewitched the whole princely race that the six young princes, who were each wedded to a young wife, remained childless; but no public notice was taken until Duke Francis succeeded to the duchy in 1618. He was a ruthless enemy to witches; all in the land were sought out with great diligence and burned, and as they unanimously named the Abbess of Marienfliess [Footnote: Sidonia never attained this dignity, though Micraelius and others gave her the title.] upon the rack, she was brought to Stettin by command of the Duke, where she freely confessed all the evil wrought by her sorceries upon the princely race. "The Duke promised her life and pardon if she would free the other princes from the ban; but her answer was that she had enclosed the spell in a padlock, and flung it into the sea, and having asked the devil if he could restore the padlock again to her, he replied, 'No; that was forbidden to him;' by which every one can perceive that the destiny of God was in the matter. "And so it was that, notwithstanding the intercession of all the neighbouring courts, Sidonia was brought to the scaffold at Stettin, there beheaded, and afterwards burned. "Before her death the Prince ordered her portrait to be painted, in her old age and prison garb, behind that which represented her in the prime of youth. After his death, Bogislaff XIV., the last Duke, gave this picture to my grandmother, whose husband had also been killed by the Sorceress. My father received it from her, and I from him, along with the story which is here written down. "HENRY GUSTAVUS SCHWALENBERG." [Footnote: The style of this "Inscription" proves it to have been written in the beginning of the preceding century, but it is first noticed by Dähnert. I have had his version compared with the original in Stargord--through the kindness of a friend, who assures me that the transcription is perfectly correct, and yet can he be mistaken? for Horst (Magic Library, vol. ii. p. 246), gives the conclusion thus: "From whom my father received it, and I from him, along with the story precisely as given here by H. G. Schwalenberg." By this reading, which must have escaped my friend, a different sense is given to the passage; by the last reading it would appear that the "I" was a Bork, who had taken the tale from Schwalenberg's history of the Pomeranian Dukes, a work which exists only in manuscript, and to which I have had no access; but if we admit the first reading, then the writer must be a Schwalenberg. Even the "grandmother" will not clear up the matter, for Sidonia, when put to the torture, confessed, at the seventh question, that she had caused the death of Doctor Schwalenberg (he was counsellor in Stettin then), and at the eleventh question, that her brother's son, Otto Bork, had died also by her means. Who then is this "I"? Even Sidonia's picture, we see, utters mysteries. In my opinion the writer was Schwalenberg, and Horst seems to have taken his version from Paulis's "General History of Pomerania," vol. iv. p. 396, and not from the original of Dähnert. For the picture at that early period was not in the possession of a Bork, but belonged to the Count von Mellin in Schillersdorf, as passages from many authors can testify. This is confirmed by another paper found along with that containing the tradition, but of much more modern appearance, which states that the picture was removed by successive inheritors, first from Schillersdorf to Stargord, from thence to Heinrichsberg (there are three towns in Pomerania of this name), and finally from Heinrichsberg, in the year 1834, was a second time removed to Stargord by the last inheritor. This Schillersdorf lies between Gartz and Stettin on the Oder. WILLIAM MEINHOLD.] LETTER OF DR. THEODORE PLÖNNIES TO BOGISLAFF THE FOURTEENTH, THE LAST DUKE OF POMERANIA. MOST EMINENT PRINCE AND GRACIOUS LORD,--Serene Prince, your Highness gave me a commission in past years to travel through all Pomerania, and if I met with any persons who could give me certain "information" respecting the notorious and accursed witch Sidonia von Bork, to set down carefully all they stated, and bring it afterwards into _connexum_ for your Highness. It is well known that Duke Francis, of blessed memory, never would permit the accursed deeds of this woman to be made public, or her confession upon the rack, fearing to bring scandal upon the princely house. But your Serene Highness viewed the subject differently, and said that it was good for every one, but especially princes, to look into the clear mirror of history, and behold there the faults and follies of their race. For this reason may no truth be omitted here. To such princely commands I have proved myself obedient, collecting all information, whether good or evil, and concealing nothing. But the greater number who related these things to me could scarcely speak for tears, for wherever I travelled throughout Pomerania, as the faithful servant of your Highness, nothing was heard but lamentations from old and young, rich and poor, that this execrable Sorceress, out of Satanic wickedness, had destroyed this illustrious race, who had held their lands from no emperor, in feudal tenure, like other German princes, but in their own right, as absolute lords, since five hundred years, and though for twenty years it seemed to rest upon five goodly princes, yet by permission of the incomprehensible God, it has now melted away until your Highness stands the last of his race, and no prospect is before us that it will ever be restored, but with your Highness (God have mercy upon us!) will be utterly extinguished, and for ever. "Woe to us, how have we sinned!" (Lament, v. 16). [Footnote: Marginal note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.-"In tuas manus commendo spiritum meum, quia tu me redemisti fide deus,"] I pray therefore the all-merciful God, that He will remove me before your Highness from this vale of tears, that I may not behold the last hour of your Highness or of my poor fatherland. Rather than witness these things, I would a thousand times sooner lie quiet in my grave. CONTENTS SIDONIA THE SORCERESS. BOOK I. _FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA AT THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST UNTIL HER BANISHMENT THEREFROM._ CHAPTER I. Of the education of Sidonia. CHAPTER II. Of the bear-hunt at Stramehl, and the strange things that befell there. CHAPTER III. How Otto von Bork received the homage of his son-in-law, Vidante von Meseritz--And how the bride and bridegroom proceeded afterwards to the chapel--Item, what strange things happened at the wedding-feast. CHAPTER IV. How Sidonia came to the court at Wolgast, and of what further happened to her there. CHAPTER V. Sidonia knows nothing of God's Word, but seeks to learn it from the young Prince of Wolgast. CHAPTER VI. How the young Prince prepared a petition to his mother, the Duchess, in favour of Sidonia--Item, of the strange doings of the Laplander with his magic drum. CHAPTER VII. How Ulrich von Schwerin buries his spouse, and Doctor Gerschovius comforts him out of God's Word. CHAPTER VIII. How Sidonia rides upon the pet stag, and what evil consequences result therefrom. CHAPTER IX. How Sidonia makes the young Prince break his word--Item, how Clara von Dewitz in vain tries to turn her from her evil ways. CHAPTER X. How Sidonia wished to learn the mystery of love-potions, but is hindered by Clara and the young Prince. CHAPTER XI. How Sidonia repeated the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, and how she whipped the young Casimir, out of pure evil-mindedness. CHAPTER XII. Of Appelmann's knavery--Item, how the birthday of her Highness was celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the uproar caused thereby. CHAPTER XIII. How Sidonia is sent away to Stettin--Item, of the young lord's dangerous illness, and what happened in consequence. CHAPTER XIV. How Duke Barnim of Stettin and Otto Bork accompany Sidonia back to Wolgast. CHAPTER XV. Of the grand battue, and what the young Duke and Sidonia resolved on there. CHAPTER XVI. How the ghost continued to haunt the castle, and of its daring behaviour--Item, how the young lord regained his strength, and was able to visit Crummyn, with what happened to him there. CHAPTER XVII. Of Ulrich's counsels--Item, how Clara von Dewitz came upon the track of the ghost. CHAPTER XVIII. How the horrible wickedness of Sidonia was made apparent; and how in consequence thereof she was banished with ignominy from the ducal court of Wolgast. BOOK II. _FROM THE BANISHMENT OF SIDONIA FROM THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST UP TO HER RECEPTION IN THE CONVENT OF MARIENFLIESS._ CHAPTER I. Of the quarrel between Otto Bork and the Stargardians, which caused him to demand the dues upon the Jena. CHAPTER II. How Otto von Bork demands the Jena dues from the Stargardians, and how the burgomaster Jacob Appelmann takes him prisoner, and locks him up in the Red Sea. CHAPTER III. Of Otto Bork's dreadful suicide--Item, how Sidonia and Johann Appelmann were brought before the burgomaster. CHAPTER IV. How Sidonia meets Claude Uckermann again, and solicits him to wed her--Item, what he answered, and how my gracious Lord of Stettin received her. CHAPTER V. How they went on meantime at Wolgast--Item, of the Diet at Wollin, and what happened there. CHAPTER VI. How Sidonia is again discovered with the groom, Johann Appelmann. CHAPTER VII. Of the distress in Pomeranian land--Item, how Sidonia and Johann Appelmann determine to join the robbers in the vicinity of Stargard. CHAPTER VIII. How Johann and Sidonia meet an adventure at Alten Damm--Item, of their reception by the robber-band. CHAPTER IX. How his Highness, Duke Barnim the elder, went a-hawking at Marienfliess--Item, of the shameful robbery at Zachan, and how burgomaster Appelmann remonstrates with his abandoned son. CHAPTER X. How the robbers attack Prince Ernest and his bride in the Uckermann forest, and Marcus Bork and Dinnies Kleist come to their rescue. CHAPTER XI. Of the ambassadors in the tavern of Mutzelburg--Item, how the miller, Konnemann, is discovered, and made by Dinnies Kleist to act as guide to the robber cave, where they find all the women-folk lying apparently dead, through some devil's magic of the gipsy mother. CHAPTER XII. How the peasants in Marienfliess want to burn a witch, but are hindered by Johann Appelmann and Sidonia, who discover an old acquaintance in the witch, the girl Wolde Albrechts. CHAPTER XIII. Of the adventure with the boundary lads, and how one of them promises to admit Johann Appelmann into the castle of Daber that same night--Item, of what befell amongst the guests at the castle. CHAPTER XIV. How the knave Appelmann seizes his Serene Eminence Duke Johann by the throat, and how his Grace and the whole castle are saved by Marcus Bork and his young bride Clara; also, how Sidonia at last is taken prisoner. CHAPTER XV. How Sidonia demeans herself at the castle of Saatzig, and how Clara forgets the injunctions of her beloved husband, when he leaves her to attend the Diet at Wollin, on the subject of the courts--Item, how the Serene Prince Duke Johann Frederick beheads his court fool with a sausage. CHAPTER XVI. How Sidonia makes poor Clara appear quite dead, and of the great mourning at Saatzig over her burial, while Sidonia dances on her coffin and sings the 109th psalm--Item, of the sermon, and the anathema pronounced upon a wicked sinner from the altar of the church. CHAPTER XVII. How Sidonia is chased by the wolves to Rehewinkel, and finds Johann Appelmann again in the inn, with whom she goes away a second time by night. CHAPTER XVIII. How a new leaf is turned over at Bruchhausen in a very fearful manner--Old Appelmann takes his worthless son prisoner, and admonishes him to repentance--Of Johann's wonderful conversion, and execution next morning in the churchyard, Sidonia being present thereby. CHAPTER XIX. Of Sidonia's disappearance for thirty years--Item, how the young Princess Elizabeth Magdelene was possessed by a devil, and of the sudden death of her father, Ernest Ludovicus of Pomerania. CHAPTER XX. How Sidonia demeans herself at the Convent of Marienfliess--Item, how their Princely and Electoral Graces of Pomerania, Brandenburg, and Mecklenburg, went on sleighs to Wolgast, and of the divers pastimes of the journey. CHAPTER XXI. How Sidonia meets their Graces upon the ice--Item, how Dinnies Kleist beheads himself, and my gracious lord of Wolgast perishes miserably. CHAPTER XXII. How Barnim the Tenth succeeds to the government, and how Sidonia meets him as she is gathering bilberries--Item, of the unnatural witch-storm at his Grace's funeral, and how Duke Casimir refuses, in consequence, to succeed him. CHAPTER XXIII. Duke Bogislaff XIII. accepts the government of the duchy, and gives Sidonia at last the long-desired præbenda--Item, of her arrival at the convent of Marienfliess. BOOK III. _FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA INTO THE CONVENT AT MARIENFLIESS UP TILL HER EXECUTION, AUGUST 19TH, 1620._ CHAPTER I. How the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin, visits Sidonia and extols her virtue--Item, of Sidonia's quarrel with the dairy-woman, and how she beats the sheriff himself, Eggert Sparling, with a broom-stick. CHAPTER II. How Sidonia visits the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf, and explains her wishes, but is diverted to other objects by a sight of David Ludeck, the chaplain to the convent. CHAPTER III. Sidonia tries another way to catch the priest, but fails through a mistake--Item, of her horrible spell, whereby she bewitched the whole princely race of Pomerania, so that, to the grievous sorrow of their fatherland, they remain barren even unto this day. BOOK I. FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA AT THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST UNTIL HER BANISHMENT THEREFROM. SIDONIA THE SORCERESS CHAPTER I. _Of the education of Sidonia._ The illustrious and high-born prince and lord, Bogislaff, fourteenth Duke of Pomerania, Prince of Cassuben, Wenden, and Rugen, Count of Güzkow, Lord of the lands of Lauenburg and Butow, and my gracious feudal seigneur, having commanded me, Dr. Theodore Plönnies, formerly bailiff at the ducal court, to make search throughout all the land for information respecting the world-famed sorceress, Sidonia von Bork, and write down the same in a book, I set out for Stargard, accompanied by a servant, early one Friday after the _Visitationis Mariæ_, 1629; for, in my opinion, in order to form a just judgment respecting the character of any one, it is necessary to make one's self acquainted with the circumstances of their early life; the future man lies enshrined in the child, and the peculiar development of each individual nature is the result entirely of education. Sidonia's history is a remarkable proof of this. I visited first, therefore, the scenes of her early years; but almost all who had known her were long since in their graves, seeing that ninety years had passed since the time of her birth. However, the old inn-keeper at Stargard, Zabel Wiese, himself very far advanced in years (whom I can recommend to all travellers--he lives in the Pelzerstrasse), told me that the old bachelor, Claude Uckermann of Dalow, an aged man of ninety-two years old, was the only person who could give me the information I desired, as in his youth he had been one of the many followers of Sidonia. His memory was certainly well nigh gone from age, still all that had happened in the early period of his life lay as fresh as the Lord's Prayer upon his tongue. Mine host also related some important circumstances to me myself, which shall appear in their proper place. I accordingly proceeded to Dalow, a little town half a mile from Stargard, and visited Claude Uckermann. I found him seated by the chimney corner, his hair as white as snow. "What did I want? He was too old to receive strangers; I must go on to his son Wedig's house, and leave him in quiet," &c. &c. But when I said that I brought him a greeting from his Highness, his manner changed, and he pushed the seat over for me beside the fire, and began to chat first about the fine pine-trees, from which he cut his firewood--they were so full of resin; and how his son, a year before, had found an iron pot in the turf moor under a tree, full of bracelets and earrings, which his little grand-daughter now wore. When he had tired himself out, I communicated what his Highness had so nobly commanded to be done, and prayed him to relate all he knew and could remember of this detestable sorceress, Sidonia von Bork. He sighed deeply, and then went on talking for about two hours, giving me all his recollections just as they started to his memory. I have arranged what he then related, in proper order. It was to the following effect:-- Whenever his father, Philip Uckermann, attended the fair at Stramehl, a town belonging to the Bork family, he was in the habit of visiting Otto von Bork at his castle, who, being very rich, gave free quarters to all the young noblemen of the vicinity, so that from thirty to forty of them were generally assembled at his castle while the fair lasted; but after some time his father discontinued these visits, his conscience not permitting him further intercourse. The reason was this. Otto von Bork, during his residence in Poland, had joined the sect of the enthusiasts, [Footnote: Probably the sect afterwards named Socinians; for we find that Laelius Socinus taught in Poland, even before Melancthon's death (1560).] and had lost his faith there, as a young maiden might her honour. He made no secret of his new opinions, but openly at Martinmas fair, 1560, told the young nobles at dinner that Christ was but a man like other people, and ignorance alone had elevated Him to a God; which notion had been encouraged by the greed and avarice of the clergy. They should therefore not credit what the hypocritical priests chattered to them every Sunday, but believe only what reason and their five senses told them was truth, and that, in fine, if he had his will, he would send every priest to the devil. All the young nobles remained silent but Claude Zastrow, a feudal retainer of the Borks, who rose up (it was an evil moment to him) and made answer: "Most powerful feudal lord, were the holy apostles then filled with greed and covetousness, who were the first to proclaim that Christ was God, and who left all for His sake? Or the early Christians who, with one accord, sold their possessions, and gave the price to the poor?" Claude had before this displeased the knight, who now grew red with anger at the insolence of his vassal in thus answering him, and replied: "If they were not preachers for gain, they were at least stupid fellows." Hereupon a great murmur arose in the hall, but the aforesaid Zastrow is not silenced, and answered: "It is surprising, then, that the twelve stupid apostles performed more than twelve times twelve Greek or Roman philosophers. The knight might rage until he was black in the face, and strike the table. But he had better hold his tongue and use his understanding; though, after all, the intellect of a man who believed nothing but what he received through his five senses was not worth much; for the brute beasts were his equals, inasmuch as they received no evidence either but from the senses." Then Otto sprang up raging, and asked him what he meant; to which the other answered: "Nothing more than to express his opinion that man differed from the brute, not through his understanding, but by his faith, for that animals had evidently understanding, but no trace of faith had ever yet been discovered in them." [Footnote: This axiom is certainly opposed to modern ontology, which denies all ideas to the brute creation, and explains each proof of their intellectual activity by the unintelligible word "instinct." The ancients held very different opinions, particularly the new Platonists, one of whom (Porphyry, liber ii. _De abstinentia_) treats largely of the intellect and language of animals. Since Cartesius, however, who denied not only understanding, but even feeling, to animals, and represented them as mere animated machines (_De passionib. Pars i. Artic. iv. et de Methodo,_ No. 5, page 29, &c.), these views upon the psychology of animals produced the most mischievous results; for they were carried out until if not feeling, at least intellect, was denied to all animals more or less; and modern philosophy at length arrived at denying intelligence even to God, in whom and by whom, as formerly, man no longer attains to consciousness, but it is by man and through man that God arrives to a conscious intelligent existence. Some philosophers of our time, indeed, are condescending enough to ascribe _Understanding_ to animals and _Reason_ to man as the generic difference between the two. But I cannot comprehend these new-fashioned distinctions; for it seems to me absurd to split into the two portions of reason and understanding one and the same spiritual power, according as the object on which it acts is higher or lower; just as if we adopted two names for the same hand that digs up the earth and directs the telescope to heaven, or maintained that the latter was quite a different hand from the former. No. There is but one understanding for man and beasts, as but one common substance for their material forms. The more perfect the form, so much the more perfect is the intellect; and human and animal intellects are only dynamically different in human and animal bodies. And even if, among animals of the more perfect form, understanding has been discovered, yet in man alone has been found the innate feeling of connection with the supernatural, or _Faith_. If this, as the generic sign of difference, be called _Reason_, I have nothing to object, except that the word generally conveys a different meaning. But _Faith_ is, in fact, the pure Reason, and is found in all men, existing alike in the lowest superstitions as well as in the highest natures.] Otto's rage now knew no bounds, and he drew his dagger, roaring, "What! thou insolent knave, dost thou dare to compare thy feudal lord to a brute?" And before the other had time to draw his poignard to defend himself, or the guests could in any way interfere to prevent him, Otto stabbed him to the heart as he sat there by the table. (It was a blessed death, I think, to die for his Lord Christ.) And so he fell down upon the floor with contorted features, and hands and feet quivering with agony. Every one was struck dumb with horror at such a death; but the knight laughed loudly, and cried, "Ha! thou base-born serf, I shall teach thee how to liken thy feudal lord to a brute," and striding over his quivering limbs, he spat upon his face. Then the murmuring and whispering increased in the hall, and those nearest the door rushed out and sprang upon their horses; and finally all the guests, even old Uckermann, fled away, no one venturing to take up the quarrel with Otto Bork. After that, he fell into disrepute with the old nobility, for which he cared little, seeing that his riches and magnificence always secured him companions enough, who were willing to listen to his wisdom, and were consoled by his wine. And when I, Dr. Theodore Plönnies, inquired from the old bachelor if his Serene Highness had not punished the noble for his shameful crime, he replied that his wealth and powerful influence protected him. At least it was whispered that justice had been blinded with gold; and the matter was probably related to the prince in quite a different manner from the truth; for I have heard that a few years after, his Highness even visited this godless knight at his castle in Stramehl. As to Otto, no one observed any sign of repentance in him. On the contrary, he seemed to glory in his crime, and the neighbouring nobles related that he frequently brought in his little daughter Sidonia, whom he adored for her beauty, to the assembled guests, magnificently attired; and when she was bowing to the company, he would say, "Who art thou, my little daughter?" Then she would cease the salutations which she had learned from her mother, and drawing herself up, proudly exclaim, "I am a noble maiden, dowered with towns and castles!" Then he would ask, if the conversation turned upon his enemies--and half the nobles were so--"Sidonia, how does thy father treat his enemies?" Upon which the child would straighten her finger, and running at her father, strike it into his heart, saying, "_Thus_ he treats them." At which Otto would laugh loudly, and tell her to show him how the knave looked when he was dying. Then Sidonia would fall down, twist her face, and writhe her little hands and feet in horrible contortions. Upon which Otto would lift her up, and kiss her upon the mouth. But it will be seen how the just God punished him for all this, and how the words of the Scriptures were fulfilled: "Err not, God is not mocked; for what a man soweth, that shall he also reap." The parson of Stramehl, David Dilavius, related also to old Uckermann another fact, which, though it hardly seems credible, the bachelor reported thus to me:-- This Dilavius was a learned man whom Otto had selected as instructor to his young daughter; "but only teach her," he said, "to read and write, and the first article of the Ten Commandments. The other Christian doctrines I can teach her myself; besides, I do not wish the child to learn so many dogmas." Dilavius, who was a worthy, matter-of-fact, good, simple character, did as he was ordered, and gave himself no further trouble until he came to ask the child to recite the first article of the creed out of the catechism for him. There was nothing wrong in that; but when he came to the second article, he crossed himself, not because it concerned the Lord Christ, but her own father, Otto von Bork, and ran somewhat thus:-- "And I believe in my earthly father, Otto von Bork, a distinguished son of God, born of Anna von Kleist, who sitteth in his castle at Stramehl, from whence he will come to help his children and friends, but to slay his enemies and tread them in the dust." The third article was much in the same style, but he had partly forgotten it, neither could he remember if Dilavius had called the father to any account for his profanity, or taught the daughter some better Christian doctrine. In fine, this was all the old bachelor could tell me of Sidonia's education. Yes--he remembered one anecdote more. Her father had asked her one day, when she was about ten or twelve years old, "What kind of a husband she would like?" and she replied, "One of equal birth." _Ille:_ [Footnote: In dialogue the author makes use of the Latin pronouns, _Ille_, he; _Illa_, she, to denote the different characters taking part in it; and sometimes _Hic_ and _Hæc_, for the same purposes. _Summa_ he employs in the sense of "to sum up," or "in short."] "Who is her equal in the whole of Pomerania?" _Illa:_ "Only the Duke of Pomerania, or the Count von Ebersburg." _Ille:_ "Right! therefore she must never marry any other but one of these." It happened soon after, old Philip Uckermann, his father, riding one day through the fields near Stramehl, saw a country girl seated by the roadside, weeping bitterly. "Why do you weep?" he asked. "Has any one injured you?" "Sidonia has injured me," she replied. "What could she have done? Come dry your tears, and tell me." Whereupon the little girl related that Sidonia, who was then about fourteen, had besought her to tell her what marriage was, because her father was always talking to her about it. The girl had told her to the best of her ability; but the young lady beat her, and said it was not so, that long Dorothy had told her quite differently about marriage, and there she went on tormenting her for several days; but upon this evening Sidonia, with long Dorothy, and some of the milkmaids of the neighbourhood, had taken away one of the fine geese which the peasants had given her in payment of her labour. They picked it alive, all except the head and neck, then built up a large fire in a circle, and put the goose and a vessel of water in the centre. So the fat dripped down from the poor creature alive, and was fried in a pan as it fell, just as the girls eat it on their bread for supper. And the goose, having no means of escape, still went on drinking the water as the fat dripped down, whilst they kept cooling its head and heart with a sponge dipped in cold water, fastened to a stick, until at last the goose fell down when quite roasted, though it still screamed, and then Sidonia and her companions cut it up for their amusement, living as it was, and ate it for their supper, in proof of which, the girl showed him the bones and the remains of the fire, and the drops of fat still lying on the grass. Then she wept afresh, for Sidonia had promised to take away a goose every day, and destroy it as she had done the first. So my father consoled her by giving her a piece of gold, and said, "If she does so again, run by night and cloud, and come to Dalow by Stargard, where I will make thee keeper of my geese." But she never came to him, and he never heard more of the maiden and her geese. So far old Uckermann related to me the first evening, promising to tell me of many more strange doings upon the following morning, which he would try to think over during the night. CHAPTER II. _Of the bear-hunt at Stramehl, and the strange things that befell there._ The following morning, by seven o'clock, the old man summoned me to him, and on entering I found him seated at breakfast by the fire. He invited me to join him, and pushed a seat over for me with his crutch, for walking was now difficult to him. He was very friendly, and the eyes of the old man burned as clear as those of a white dove. He had slept little during the night, for Sidonia's form kept floating before his eyes, just as she had looked in the days when he paid court to her. Alas! he had once loved her deeply, like all the other young nobles who approached her, from the time she was of an age to marry. In her youth she had been beautiful; and old and young declared that for figure, eyes, bosom, walk, and enchanting smile, there never had been seen her equal in all Pomerania. "Nothing shall be concealed from you," he said, "of all that concerns my foolish infatuation, that you and your children may learn how the all-wise God deals best with His servants when He uses the rod and denies that for which they clamour as silly children for a glittering knife." Here he folded his withered hands, murmured a short prayer, and proceeded with his story. "You must know that I was once a proud and stately youth, upon whom a maiden's glance in no wise rested indifferently, trained in all knightly exercise, and only two years older than Sidonia. It happened in the September of 1566, that I was invited by Caspar Roden to see his eel-nets, as my father intended laying down some also at Krampehl [Footnote: A little river near Dalow] and along the coast. When we returned home weary enough in the evening, a letter arrived from Otto von Bork, inviting him the following day to a bear-hunt; as he intended, in honour of the nuptials of his eldest daughter Clara, to lay bears' heads and bears' paws before his guests, which even in Pomerania would have been a rarity, and desiring him to bring as many good huntsmen with him as he pleased. So I accompanied Caspar Roden, who told me on the way that Count Otto had at first looked very high for his daughter Clara, and scorned many a good suitor, but that she was now getting rather old, and ready, like a ripe burr, to hang on the first that came by. Her bridegroom was Vidante von Meseritz, a feudal vassal of her father's, upon whom, ten years before, she would not have looked at from a window. Not that she was as proud as her young sister Sidonia. However, their mother was to blame for much of this; but she was dead now, poor lady, let her rest in peace. So in good time we reached the castle of Stramehl, where thirty huntsmen were already assembled, all noblemen, and we joined them in the grand state hall, where the morning meal was laid out. Count Otto sat at the head of the table, like a prince of Pomerania, upon a throne whereon his family arms were both carved and embroidered. He wore a doublet of elk-skin, and a cap with a heron's plume upon his head. He did not rise as we entered, but called to us to be seated and join the feast, as the party must move off soon. Costly wines were sent round; and I observed that on each of the glasses the family arms were cut. They were also painted upon the window of the great hall, and along the walls, under the horns of all the different wild animals killed by Otto in the chase--bucks, deers, harts, roes, stags, and elks--which were arranged in fantastical groups. After a little while his two daughters, Clara and Sidonia, entered. They wore green hunting-dresses, trimmed with beaver-skin, and each had a gold net thrown over her hair. They bowed, and bid the knights welcome. But we all remained breathless gazing upon Sidonia, as she lifted her beautiful eyes first on one, and then on another, inviting us to eat and drink; and she even filled a small wine-glass herself, and prayed us to pledge her. As for me, unfortunate youth, from the moment I beheld her I breathed no more through my lungs, but through my eyes alone, and, springing up, gave her health publicly. A storm of loud, animated, passionate voices soon responded to my words with loud vivas. The guests then rose, for the ladies were impatient for the hunt, and found the time hang heavily. So we set off with all our implements and our dogs, and a hundred beaters went before us. It happened that my host, Caspar Roden, and I found an excellent sheltered position for a shot near a quarry, and we had not long been there (the beaters had not even yet begun their work) when I spied a large bear coming down to drink at a small stream not twenty paces from me. I fired; but she retired quickly behind an oak, and, growling fiercely, disappeared amongst the bushes. Not long after, I heard the cries of women almost close to us; and running as fast as possible in the direction from whence they came, I perceived an old bear trying to climb up to the platform where Clara and Sidonia stood. There was a ruined chapel here--which, in the time of papacy, had contained a holy image--and a scaffolding had been erected round it, adorned with wreaths of evergreen and flowers, from which the ladies could obtain an excellent view of the hunt, as it commanded a prospect of almost the entire wood, and even part of the sea. Attached to this scaffolding was a ladder, up which Bruin was anxiously trying to ascend, in order to visit the young ladies, who were now assailed by two dangers--the bear from below, and a swarm of bees above, for myriads of these insects were tormenting them, trying to settle upon their golden hair-nets; and the young ladies, screaming as if the last day had come, were vainly trying to beat them off with their girdles, or trample them under their feet. A huntsman who stood near fired, indeed, at Bruin, but without effect, and the bees assailing his hands and face at the same time, he took to flight and hid himself, groaning, in the quarry. In the meantime I had reached the chapel, and Sidonia stretched forth her beautiful little hands, crying, along with her sister, "Help! help! He will eat us. Will you not kill him?" But the bear, as if already aware of my intention, began now to descend the ladder. However, I stepped before him, and as he descended, I ascended. Luckily for me, the interval between each step was very small, to accommodate the ladies' little feet, so that when Bruin tried to thrust his snout between them to get at me, he found it rather difficult work to make it pass. I had my dagger ready; and though the bees which he brought with him in his fur flew on my hands, I heeded them not, but watching my opportunity, plunged it deep into his side, so that he tumbled right down off the ladder; and though he raised himself up once and growled horribly, yet in a few seconds he lay dead before our eyes. How the ladies now tripped down the ladder, not two or three, but four or five steps at a time! and what thanks poured forth from their lips! I rushed first to Sidonia, who laid her little head upon my breast, while I endeavoured to remove the bees which had got entangled in her hair-net. The other lady went to call the huntsman, who was hiding in the quarry, and we were left alone. Heavens! how my heart burned, more than my inflamed hands all stung by the bees, as she asked, how could she repay my service. I prayed her for one kiss, which she granted. She had escaped with but one sting from the bees, who could not manage to get through her long, thick, beautiful hair, and she advanced joyfully to meet her father and the hunting-train, who had heard the cries of the ladies. When Count Otto heard what had happened, and saw the dead bear, he thanked me heartily, praying me to attend his daughter Clara's wedding, which was to be celebrated next week at the castle, and to remain as his guest until then. There was nothing in the world I could have desired beyond this, and I gratefully accepted his offer. Alas! I suffered for it after, as the cat from poisoned dainties. But to return to our hunt. No other bear was killed that day, but plenty of other game, as harts, stags, roes, boars--more than enough. And now we discovered what an old hunter had conjectured, that the dead bear was the father, who had been alarmed by the growls of his partner, at whom I had fired whilst he was endeavouring to carry off the honey from a nest of wild bees in a neighbouring tree. For looking around us, we saw, at the distance of about twenty paces, a tall oak-tree, about which clouds of bees were still flying, in which he had been following his occupation. No one dared to approach it, to bring away the honeycombs which still lay beneath, by reason of the bees, and, moreover, swarms of ants, by which they were covered. At length Otto Bork ordered the huntsman to sound the return; and after supper I obtained another little kiss from Sidonia, which burned so like fire through my veins that I could not sleep the whole night. I resolved to ask her hand in marriage from her father. Stupid youth as I was, I then believed that she looked upon me with equal love; and although I knew all about the mode in which she had been brought up, and many other things beside, which have now slipped from my memory, yet I looked on them but as idle stories, and was fully persuaded that Sidonia was sister to the angels in beauty, goodness, and perfection. In a few days, however, I had reason to change my opinion. Next day the two young ladies were in the kitchen, overseeing the cooking of the bear's head, and, as I passed by and looked in, they began to titter, which I took for a good omen, and asked, might I not be allowed to enter. They said, "Yes, I might come in, and help them to cleave the head." So I entered, and they both began to give me instructions, with much laughter and merry jesting. First, the bear's head had to be burned with hot irons; and when I said to Sidonia that thus she burned my heart, she nearly died of laughter. Then I cut some flesh off the mouth, broke the nose, and handed it all over to the maidens, who set it on the fire with water, wine, and vinegar. As I now played the part of kitchen-boy, they sent me to the castle garden for thyme, sage, and rosemary, which I brought, and begged them for a taste of the head; but they said it was not fit to eat yet--must be cooled in brine first; so in place of it I asked one little kiss from each of the maidens, which Sidonia granted, but her sister refused. However, I was not in the least displeased at her refusal, seeing it was only the little sister I cared for. But judge of my rage and jealousy, that same day a cousin arrived at the castle, and I observed that Sidonia allowed him to kiss her every moment. She never even appeared to offer any resistance, but looked over at me languishingly every time to see what I would say. What could I say? I became pale with jealousy, but said nothing. At last I rushed from the hall, mute with despair, when I observed him finally draw her on his knee. I only heard the peal of laughter that followed my exit, and I was just near leaving the whole wedding-feast, and Stramehl for ever, when Sidonia called after me from the castle gates to return. This so melted my heart, that the tears came into my eyes, thinking that now indeed I had a proof of her love. Then she took my hand, and said, "I ought not to be so unkind. That was her manner with all the young nobles. Why should she refuse a kiss when she was asked? Her little mouth would grow neither larger nor smaller for it." But I stood still and wept, and looked on the ground. "Why should I weep?" she asked. Her cousin Clas had a bride of his own already, and only took a little pastime with her, and so she must cure me now with another little kiss. I was now again a happy man, thinking she loved me; and the heavens seemed so propitious, that I determined to ask her hand. But I had not sufficient courage as yet, and resolved to wait until after her sister's marriage, which was to take place next day. What preparations were made for this event it would be impossible adequately to describe. All the country round the castle seemed like a royal camp. Six hundred horses were led into the stables next day to be fed, for the Duke himself arrived with a princely retinue. Then came all the feudal vassals to offer homage for their fiefs to Lord Otto. But as the description is well worth hearing, I shall defer it for another chapter. CHAPTER III. _How Otto von Bork received the homage of his son-in-law, Vidante von Meseritz--And how the bride and bridegroom proceeded afterwards to the chapel--Item, what strange things happened at the wedding-feast._ Next morning the stir began in the castle before break of day, and by ten o'clock all the nobles, with their wives and daughters, had assembled in the great hall. Then the bride entered, wearing her myrtle wreath, and Sidonia followed, glittering with diamonds and other costly jewels. She wore a robe of crimson silk with a cape of ermine, falling from her shoulders, and looked so beautiful that I could have died for love, as she passed and greeted me with her graceful laugh. But Otto Bork, the lord of the castle, was sore displeased because his Serene Highness the Prince was late coming, and the company had been waiting an hour for his presence. A platform had been erected at the upper end of the hall covered with bearskin; on this was placed a throne, beneath a canopy of yellow velvet, and here Otto was seated dressed in a crimson doublet, and wearing a hat half red and half black, from which depended plumes of red and black feathers that hung down nearly to his beard, which was as venerable as a Jew's. Every instant he despatched messengers to the tower to see if the prince were at hand, and as the time hung heavy, he began to discourse his guests. "See how this turner's apprentice [Footnote: So this prince was called from his love of turning and carving dolls.] must have stopped on the road to carve a puppet. God keep us from such dukes!" For the prince passed all his leisure hours in turning and carving, particularly while travelling, and when the carriage came to bad ground, where the horses had to move slowly, he was delighted, and went on merrily with his work; but when the horses galloped, he grew ill-tempered and threw down his tools. At length the warder announced from the tower that the duke's six carriages were in sight, and the knight spoke from his throne: "I shall remain here, as befits me, but Clara and Sidonia, go ye forth and receive his Highness; and when he has entered, the kinsman [Footnote: This was the feudal term for the next relation of a deceased vassal, upon whom it devolved to do homage for the lands to the feudal lord.] in full armour shall ride into the hall upon his war-horse, bearing the banner of his house in his hand, and all my retainers shall follow on horses, each bearing his banner also, and shall range themselves by the great window of the hall; and let the windows be open, that the wind may play through the banners and make the spectacle yet grander." Then all rushed out to meet the Duke, and I, too, went, for truly the courtyard presented a gorgeous sight--all decorated as it was, and the pride and magnificence of Lord Otto were here fully displayed; for from the upper storey of the castle floated the banner of the Emperor, and just beneath it that of Lord Otto (two crowned wolves with golden collars on a field or for the shield), and the crest, a crowned red-deer springing. Beneath this banner, but much inferior to it in size and execution, waved that of the Dukes of Pomerania; and lowest of all, hung the banner of Otto's feudal vassals--but they themselves were not visible. Neither did the kinsman appear to receive and greet his Highness. Otto knew well, it seems, that he could defy the Duke (however, I think if my gracious Lord of Wolgast had been there, he would not have suffered such insults, but would have taken Otto's banner and flung it in the mud). [Footnote: Marginal note of Duke Bogislaff, "And so would I."] Be this as it may, Duke Barnim never appeared to notice anything except Otto's two daughters. He was a little man with a long grey beard, and as he stepped slowly out of the carriage held a little puppet by the arm, which he had been carving to represent Adam. It was intended for a present to the convent at Kobatz. His _superintendens generalis_, Fabianus Timæus (a dignified-looking personage), accompanied him in the carriage, for his Highness was going on the same day to attend the diet at Treptow, and only meant to pay a passing visit here. But Lord Otto concealed this fact, as it hurt his pride. The other carriages contained the equerries and pages of his Highness, and then followed the heavy waggons with the cooks, valets, and stewards. When the Prince entered the state hall, Lord Otto rose from his throne and said: "Your Highness is welcome, and I trust will pardon me for not having gone forth with my greetings; but those of a couple of young damsels were probably more agreeable than the compliments of an old knight like myself, who besides, as your Grace perceives, is engaged here in the exercise of his duty. And now, I pray your Highness to take this seat at my right hand." Whereupon he pointed to a plain chair, not in the least raised from the ground, and altogether as common a seat as there was to be found in the hall; but his Highness sat down quietly (at which every one wondered in silence) and took the little puppet in his lap, only exclaiming in low German, "What the devil, Otto! you make more of yourself, man, than I do;" to which the knight replied, "Not more than is necessary." "And now," continued the old man, "the ceremony of offering homage commenced, which is as fresh in my memory as if all had happened but yesterday, and so I shall describe it that you may know what were the usages of our fathers, for the customs of chivalry are, alas! fast passing away from amongst us. When Otto Bork gave the sign with his hand, six trumpets sounded without, whereupon the doors of the hall were thrown wide open as far as they could go, and the kinsman Vidante von Meseritz entered on a black charger, and dressed in complete armour, but without his sword. He carried the banner of his house (a pale gules with two foxes running), and riding straight up to Lord Otto, lowered it before him. Otto then demanded, "Who art thou, and what is thy request?" to which he answered, "Mighty feudal Lord, I am kinsman of Dinnies von Meseritz, and pray you for the fief." "And who are these on horseback who follow thee?" "They are the feudal vassals of my Lord, even as my father was." And Otto said, "Ride up, my men, and do as your fathers have done." Then Frederick Ubeske rode up, lowered his banner (charged with a sun and peacock's tail) before the knight, then passed on up to the great windows of the hall, where he took his place and drew his sword, while the wind played through the folds of his standard. Next came Walter von Locksted--lowered his banner (bearing a springing unicorn), rode up to the window, and drew his sword. After him, Claud Drosedow, waving his black eagle upon a white and red shield, rode up to the window and drew his sword; then Jacob Pretz, on his white charger, bearing two spears transverse through a fallen tree on his flag; and Dieterich Mallin, whose banner fell in folds over his hand, so that the device was not visible; and Lorenz Prechel, carrying a leopard gules upon a silver shield; and Jacob Knut, with a golden becker upon an azure field, and three plumes on the crest; and Tesmar von Kettler, whose spurs caught in the robe of a young maiden as he passed, and merry laughter resounded through the hall, many saying it was a good omen, which, indeed, was the truth, for that evening they were betrothed; and finally came Johann Zastrow, bearing two buffaloes' horns on his banner, and a green five-leaved bush, rode up to the window after the others, and drew his sword. There stood the nine, like the muses at the nuptials of Peleus, [Footnote: The nine muses were present at the marriage of Peleus and Thetis.--_See Pindar, pyth._. 3, 160] and the wind played through their banners. Then Lord Otto spoke-- "True, these are my leal vassals. And now, kinsman of Meseritz, dismount and pay homage, as did thy father, ere thou canst ride up and join them." So the young man dismounted, threw the reins of his horse to a squire, and ascended the platform. Then Otto, holding up a sword, spoke again-- "Behold, kinsman, this is the sword of thy father; touch it with me, and pronounce the feudal oath." Here all the vassals rode up from the window, and held their swords crosswise over the kinsman's head, while he spake thus-- "I, Vidante von Meseritz, declare, vow, and swear to the most powerful, noble, and brave Otto von Bork, lord of the lands and castles of Labes, Pansin, Stramehl, Regenwalde, and others, and my most powerful feudal lord, and to his lawful heirs, a right loyal fealty, to serve him with all duty and obedience, to warn him of all evil, and defend him from all injury, to the best of my ability and power." Then he kissed the knight's hand, who girded his father's sword on him, and said-- "Thus I acknowledge thee for my vassal, as my father did thy father." Then turning to his attendants he cried, "Bring hither the camp furniture." Hereupon the circle of spectators parted in two, and the pages led up, first, Vidante's horse, upon which he sprung; then others followed, bearing rich garments and his father's signet, and laid them down before him, saying, "Kinsman, the garments and the seal of thy father." A third and a fourth bore a large couch with a white coverlet, set it down before him, and said, "Kinsman, a couch for thee and thy wife." Then came a great crowd, bearing plates and dishes, and napkins, and table-covers, besides eleven tin cans, a fish-kettle, and a pair of iron pot-hooks; in short, a complete camp furniture; all of which they set down before the young man, and then disappeared. During this entire time no one noticed his Highness the Duke, though he was indeed the feudal head of all. Even when the trumpets sounded again, and the vassals passed out in procession, they lowered their standards only before Otto, as if no princely personage were present. But I think this proud Lord Otto must have commanded them so to do, for such an omission or breach of respect was never before seen in Pomerania. Even his Highness seemed, at last, to feel displeasure, for he drew forth his knife, and began to cut away at the little wooden Adam, without taking further notice of the ceremony. At length when the vassals had departed, and many of the guests also, who wished to follow them, had left the hall, the Duke looked up with his little glittering eyes, scratched the back of his head with the knife, and asked his Chancellor, Jacob Kleist, who had evidently been long raging with anger, "Jacob, what dost thou think of this _spectaculo?_" who replied, "Gracious lord, I esteem it a silly thing for an inferior to play the part of a prince, or for a prince to be compelled to play the part of an inferior." Such a speech offended Otto mightily, who drew himself up and retorted scornfully, "Particularly a poor inferior who, as you see, is obliged to draw the plough by turns with his serfs." Hereupon the Chancellor would have flung back the scorn, but his Highness motioned with the hand that he should keep silence, saying, "Remember, good Jacob, that we are here as guests; however, order the carriages, for I think it is time that we proceed on our journey." When Otto heard this, he was confounded, and, descending from his throne, uttered so many flattering things, that his Highness at length was prevailed upon to remain (I would not have consented, to save my soul, had I been the Prince--no, not even if I had to pass the night with the bears and wolves in the forest before I could reach Treptow); so the good old Prince followed him into another hall, where breakfast was prepared, and all the lords and ladies stood there in glittering groups round the table, particularly admiring the bear's head, which seemed to please his Highness mightily also. Then each one drained a large goblet of wine, and even the ladies sipped from their little wine-glasses, to drink themselves into good spirits for the dance. Otto now related all about the hunt, and presented me to his Grace, who gave me his hand to kiss, saying, "Well done, young man--I like this bravery. Were it not for you, in place of a wedding, and a bear's head in the dish, Lord Otto might have had a funeral and two human heads in a coffin." His Grace then pledged me in a silver becker of wine; and afterwards the bride and bridegroom, who had sat till then kissing and making love in a corner; but they now came forward and kissed the hand of the Duke with much respect. The bridegroom had on a crimson doublet, which became him well; but his father's jack-boots, which he wore according to custom, were much too wide, and shook about his legs. The bride was arrayed in a scarlet velvet robe, and bodice furred with ermine. Sidonia carried a little balsam flask, depending from a gold chain which she wore round her neck. (She soon needed the balsam, for that day she suffered a foretaste of the fate which was to be the punishment for her after evil deeds.) And now, as we set forward to the church, a group of noble maidens distributed wreaths to the guests; but the bride presented one to the Duke, and Sidonia (that her hand might have been withered) handed one to me, poor love-stricken youth. It was the custom then, as now, in Pomerania, for all the bride-maidens, crowned with beautiful wreaths, to precede the bride and bridegroom to church. The crowd of lords, and ladies, and young knights pouring out of the castle gates, in order to see them, separated Sidonia from this group, and she was left alone weeping. Now the whole population of the little town were running from every street leading to the church; and it happened that a courser [Footnote: A man who courses greyhounds.] of Otto Bork's came right against Sidonia with such violence, that, with a blow of his head, he knocked her down into the puddle (she was to lie there really in after-life). Her little balsam-flask was of no use here. She had to go back, dripping, to the castle, and appeared no more at her sister's nuptials, but consoled herself, however, by listening to the bellowing of the huntsman, whom they were beating black and blue by her orders beneath her window. I would willingly have returned with her, but was ashamed so to do, and therefore followed the others to church. All the common people that crowded the streets were allowed to enter. Then the bridegroom and his party, of whom the Duke was chief, advanced up to the right of the altar, and the bride and her party, of which Fabianus Timæus was the most distinguished, arrayed themselves on the left. I had now an opportunity of hearing the learned and excellent parson Dilavius myself; for he represented his patron (who was not present at the feast, but apologised for his absence by alleging that he must remain at the castle to look after the preparations) almost as an angel, and the young ladies, especially the bride, came in for even a larger share of his flattery; but he was so modest before these illustrious personages, that I observed, whenever he looked up from the book, he had one eye upon the Duke and another on Fabianus. When we returned to the castle, Sidonia met the bridemaidens again with joyous smiles. She now wore a white silk robe, laced with gold, and dancing-slippers with white silk hose. The diamonds still remained on her head, neck, and arms. She looked beautiful thus; and I could not withdraw my eyes from her. We all now entered the bridechamber, as the custom is, and there stood an immense bridal couch, with coverlet and draperies as white as snow; and all the bridemaids and the guests threw their wreaths upon it. Then the Prince, taking the bridegroom by the hand, led him up to it, and repeated an old German rhyme concerning the duties of the holy state upon which he had entered. When his Highness ceased, Fabianus took the bride by the hand, who blushed as red as a rose, and led her up in the same manner to the nuptial couch, where he uttered a long admonition on her duties to her husband, at which all wept, but particularly the bride-maidens. After this we proceeded to the state hall, where Otto was seated on his throne waiting to receive them, and when his children had kissed his hand the dancing commenced. Otto invited the Prince to sit near him, and all the young knights and maidens who intended to dance ranged themselves on costly carpets that were laid upon the floor all round by the walls. The trumpets and violins now struck up, and a band was stationed at each end of the hall, so that while the dancers were at the top one played, and when at the lower end the other. I hastened to Sidonia, as she reclined upon the carpet, and bending low before her, said, "Beautiful maiden! will you not dance?" [Footnote: It will interest my fair readers to know that this was, word for word, the established form employed in those days for an invitation to dance.] Upon which she smilingly gave me her little hand, and I raised her up, and led her away. I have said that I was a proficient in all knightly exercises, so that every one approached to see us dance. When Sidonia was tired I led her back, and threw myself beside her on the carpet. But in a little while three other young nobles came and seated themselves around her, and began to jest, and toy, and pay court to her. One played with her left hand and her rings, another with the gold net of her hair, while I held her right hand and pressed it. She coquettishly repelled them all--sometimes with her feet, sometimes with her hands. And when Hans von Damitz extolled her hair, she gave him such a blow on the nose with her head that it began to bleed, and he was obliged to withdraw. Still one could see that all these blows, right and left, were not meant in earnest. This continued for some time until an Italian dance began, which she declined to join, and as I was left alone with her upon the carpet, "Now," thought I, "there can be no better time to decide my fate;" for she had pressed my hand frequently, both in the dance and since I had lain reclining beside her. "Beautiful Sidonia!" I said, "you know not how you have wounded my heart. I can neither eat nor sleep since I beheld you, and those five little kisses which you gave me burn through my frame like arrows." To which she answered, laughing, "It was your pastime, youth. It was your own wish to take those little kisses." "Ah, yes!" I said, "it was my will; but give me more now and make me well." "What!" she exclaimed, "you desire more kisses? Then will your pain become greater, if, as you say, with every kiss an arrow enters your heart, so at last they would cause your death." "Ah, yes!" I answered, "unless you take pity on me, and promise to become my wife, they will indeed cause my death." As I said this, she sprang up, tore her hand away from me, and cried with mocking laughter, "What does the knave mean? Ha! ha! the poor, miserable varlet!" I remained some moments stupefied with rage, then sprung to my feet without another word, left the hall, took my steed from the stable, and turned my back on the castle for ever. You may imagine how her ingratitude added to the bitterness of my feelings, when I considered that it was to me she owed her life. She afterwards offered herself to me for a wife, but she was then dishonoured, and I spat out at her in disgust. I never beheld her again till she was carried past my door to the scaffold. All this the old man related with many sighs; but his after-meeting with her shall be related more _in extenso_ in its proper place. I shall now set down what further he communicated about the wedding-feast. You may imagine, he said, that I was curious to know all that happened after I left the castle, and my friend, Bogislaff von Suckow of Pegelow, told me as follows. After my departure, the young lords grew still more free and daring in their manner to Sidonia, so that when not dancing she had sufficient exercise in keeping them off with her hands and feet, until my friend Bogislaff attracted her whole attention by telling her that he had just returned from Wolgast, where the ducal widow was much comforted by the presence of her son, Prince Ernest Ludovick, whom she had not seen since he went to the university. He was the handsomest youth in all Pomerania, and played the lute so divinely that at court he was compared to the god Apollo. Sidonia upon this fell into deep thought. In the meanwhile, it was evident that his Highness old Duke Barnim was greatly struck by her beauty, and wished to get near her upon the carpet; for his Grace was well known to be a great follower of the sex, and many stories are whispered about a harem of young girls he kept at St. Mary's--but these things are allowable in persons of his rank. However, Fabianus Timæus, who sat by him, wished to prevent him approaching Sidonia, and made signs, and nudged him with his elbow; and finally they put their heads together and had a long argument. At last the Prince started up, and stepping to Otto, asked him, Would he not dance? "Yes," he replied, "if your Grace will dance likewise." "Good," said the Prince, "that can be soon arranged," and therewith he solicited Sidonia's hand. At this Fabianus was so scandalised that he left the hall, and appeared no more until supper. After the dance, his Highness advanced to Otto, who was reseated on his throne, and said, "Why, Otto, you have a beautiful daughter in Sidonia. She must come to my court, and when she appears amongst the other ladies, I swear she will make a better fortune than by staying shut up here in your old castle." On which Otto replied, sarcastically smiling, "Ay, my gracious Prince, she would be a dainty morsel for your Highness, no doubt; but there is no lack of noble visitors at my castle, I am proud to say." Jacob Kleist, the Chancellor, was now so humbled at the Duke's behaviour that he, too, left the hall and followed Fabianus. Even the Duke changed colour; but before he had time to speak, Sidonia sprang forward, and having heard the whole conversation, entreated her father to accept the Duke's offer, and allow her either to visit the court at Wolgast or at Old Stettin. What was she to do here? When the wedding-feast was over, no one would come to the castle but huntsmen and such like. So Otto at last consented that she might visit Wolgast, but on no account the court at Stettin. Then the young Sidonia began to coax and caress the old Duke, stroking his long beard, which reached to his girdle, with her little white hands, and prayed that he would place her with the princely Lady of Wolgast, for she longed to go there. People said that it was such a beautiful place, and the sea was not far off, which she had never been at in all her life. And so the Duke was pleased with her caresses, and promised that he would request his dear cousin, the ducal widow of Wolgast, to receive her as one of her maids of honour. Sidonia then further entreated that there might be no delay, and he answered that he would send a note to his cousin from the Diet at Treptow, by the Grand Chamberlain of Wolgast, Ulrich von Schwerin, and that she would not have to wait long. But she must go by Old Stettin, and stop at his palace for a while, and then he would bring her on himself to Wolgast, if he had time to spare. While Sidonia clapped her hands and danced about for joy, Otto looked grave, and said, "But, gracious Lord, the nearest way to Wolgast is by Cammin. Sidonia must make a circuit if she goes by Old Stettin." The conversation was now interrupted by the lacqueys, who came to announce that dinner was served. Otto requested the Duke to take a place beside him at table, and treated him with somewhat more distinction than he had done in the morning; but a hot dispute soon arose, and this was the cause. As Otto drank deep in the wine-cup, he grew more reckless and daring, and began to display his heretical doctrines as openly as he had hitherto exhibited his pomp and magnificence, so that every one might learn that pride and ungodliness are twin brothers. May God keep us from both! And one of the guests having said, in confirmation of some fact, "The Lord Jesus knows I speak the truth!" the godless knight laughed scornfully, exclaiming, "The Lord Jesus knows as little about the matter as my old grandfather, lying there in his vault, of our wedding-feast to-day." There was a dead silence instantly, and the Prince, who had just lifted up some of the bear's paw to his lips, with mustard sauce and pastry all round it, dropped it again upon his plate, and opened his eyes as wide as they could go; then, hastily wiping his mouth with the salvet, exclaimed in low German, "What the devil, Otto! art thou a freethinker?" who replied, "A true nobleman may, in all things, be a freethinker, and neither do all that a prince commands nor believe all that a pope teaches." To which the Duke answered, "What concerns me I pardon, for I do not believe that you will ever forget your duty to your Prince. The times are gone by when a noble would openly offer violence to his sovereign; but for what concerns the honour of our Lord Christ, I must leave you in the hands of Fabianus to receive proper chastisement." Now Fabianus, seeing that all eyes were fixed on him, grew red and cleared his throat, and set himself in a position to argue the point with Lord Otto, beginning--"So you believe that Christ the Lord remained in the grave, and is not living and reigning for all eternity?" _Ille_.--"Yes; that is my opinion." _Hic_.--"What do you believe, then? or do you believe in anything?" _Ille_.--"Yes; I believe firmly in an all-powerful and omniscient God." _Hic_.--"How do you know He exists?" _Ille_.--"Because my reason tells me so." _Hic_.--"Your reason does not tell you so, good sir. It merely tells you that something supermundane exists, but cannot tell you whether it be one God or two Gods, or a hundred Gods, or of what nature are these Gods--whether spirits, or stars, or trees, or animals, or, in fine, any object you can name, for paganism has imagined a Deity in everything, which proves what I assert. You only believe in _one_ God, because you sucked in the doctrine with your mother's milk." [Footnote: The history of all philosophy shows that this is psychologically true. Even Lucian satirises the philosophers of his age who see God or Gods in numbers, dogs, geese, trees, and other things. But monotheistic Christianity has preserved us for nearly 2000 years from these aberrations of philosophy. However, as the authority of Christianity declined, the pagan tendency again became visible; until at length, in the Hegelian school, we have fallen back helplessly into the same pantheism which we left 2000 years ago. In short, what Kant asserts is perfectly true: that the existence of God cannot be proved from reason. For the highest objects of all cognition--God, Freedom, and Immortality--can as little be evolved from the new philosophy as beauty from the disgusting process of decomposition. And yet more impossible is it to imagine that this feeble Hegelian pantheism should ever become the crown and summit of all human thought, and final resting-place for all human minds. Reason, whether from an indwelling instinct, or from an innate causality-law, may assert that something supermundane exists, but can know nothing more and nothing further. So we see the absurdity of chattering in our journals and periodicals of the progress of reason. The advance has been only _formal_, not _essential_. The formal advance has been in printing, railroads, and such like, in which direction we may easily suppose progression will yet further continue. But there has been no essential advance whatever. We know as little now of our own being, of the being of God, or even of that of the smallest infusoria, as in the days of Thales and Anaximander. In short, when life begins, begins also our feebleness; "Therefore," says Paul, "we walk by faith, not by sight." Yet these would-be philosophers of our day will only walk by sight, not by faith, although they cannot see into anything--not even into themselves.] _Ille_.--"How did it happen, then, that Abraham arrived at the knowledge of the _one_ God, and called on the name of the Lord?" _Hic_.--"Do you compare yourself with Abraham? Have you ever studied Hebrew?" _Ille_.--"A little. In my youth I read through the book of Genesis." _Hic_.--"Good! then you know that the Hebrew word for _name_ is _Shem_?" _Ille_.-"Yes; I know that." _Hic_.--"Then you know that from the time of Enos the _name_ [Footnote: In order to understand the argument, the reader must remember that the _name_ here is taken in the sense of the Greek logos, and is considered as referring especially to Christ.] was preached (Genesis iv. 26), showing that the pure doctrine was known from the beginning. This doctrine was darkened and obscured by wise people like you, so that it was almost lost at the time of Abraham, who again preached the _name_ of the Lord to unbelievers." _Ille_.--"What did this primitive doctrine contain?" _Hic_.--"Undoubtedly not only a testimony of the one living God of heaven and earth, but also clearly of Christ the Messiah, as He who was promised to our fallen parents in paradise (Genesis iii. 15)." _Ille_.--"Can you prove that Abraham had the witness of Christ?" _Hic_.--"Yes; from Christ's own words (John viii. 56):--'Abraham, your father, rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it, and was glad.' Item: Moses and all the Prophets have witnessed of Him, of whom you say that He lies dead in the grave." _Ille_.--"Oh, that is just what the priests say." _Hic_.--"And Christ Himself, Luke xxvi. 25 and 27. Do you not see, young man, that you mock the Prince of Life, whom God, that cannot lie, promised before the world began--Titus i. 2--ay, even more than you mocked your temporal Prince this day? Poor sinner, what does it help you to believe in one God?" "Even the devils believe and tremble," added Jacob Kleist the Chancellor. "No, there is no other name given under heaven by which you can be saved; and will you be more wise than Abraham, and the Prophets, and the Apostles, and all holy Christian Churches up to this day? Shame on you, and remember what St. Paul says: 'Thinking themselves wise, they became fools.' And in 1st Cor. xv. 17: 'If Christ be not risen, than is your faith vain, and our preaching also vain. Ye are yet in your sins, and they who sleep in Christ are lost.'" [Footnote: This proof of Christ's divinity from the Old Testament was considered of the highest importance in the time of the Apostles; but Schleiermacher, in his strange system, which may be called a mystic Rationalism, endeavours to shake the authority of the Old Testament in a most unpardonable and incomprehensible manner. This appears to me as if a man were to tear down a building from the sure foundation on which it had rested for 1000 years, and imagine it could rest in true stability only on the mere breath of his words.] So Otto was silenced and coughed, for he had nothing to answer, and all the guests laughed; but, fortunately, just then the offering-plate was handed round, and the Duke laid down two ducats, at which Otto smiled scornfully, and flung in seven rix-dollars, but laughed outright when Fabianus put down only four groschen. This seemed to affront his Highness, for he whispered to his Chancellor to order the carriages, and rose up from table with his attendants. Then, offering his hand to Otto, said, "Take care, Otto, or the devil will have you one day in hell, like the rich man in Scripture." To which Otto replied, bowing low, "Gracious Lord, I hope at least to meet good company there. Farewell, and pardon me for not attending you to the castle gates, but I may not leave my guests." Then all the nobles rose up, and the young knights accompanied his Highness, as did also Sidonia, who now further entreated his Grace to remove her from her father's castle, since he saw himself how lightly God's Word was held there. Fabianus was infinitely pleased to hear her speak in this manner, and promised to use all his influence towards having her removed from this Egypt. Here ended all that old Uckermann could relate of Sidonia's youth; so I determined to ride on to Stramehl, and learn there further particulars if possible. Accordingly, next day I took leave of the good old man, praying God to give him a peaceful death, and arrived at Stramehl with my servant. Here, however, I could obtain no information; for even the Bork family pretended to know nothing, just as if they never had heard of Sidonia (they were ashamed, I think, to acknowledge her), and the townspeople who had known her were all dead. The girl, indeed, was still living whose goose Sidonia had killed, but she was now an old woman in second childhood, and fancied that I was myself Sidonia, who had come to take away another goose from her. So I rode on to Freienwald, where I heard much that shall appear in its proper place; then to Old Stettin; and, after waiting three days for a fair wind, set sail for Wolgast, expecting to obtain much information there. CHAPTER IV. _How Sidonia came to the court at Wolgast, and of what further happened to her there._ In Wolgast I met with many persons whose fathers had known Sidonia, and what they related to me concerning her I have summed up into connection for your Highness as follows. When Duke Barnim reached the Diet at Treptow, he immediately made known Sidonia's request to the Grand Chamberlain of Wolgast, Ulrich von Schwerin, who was also guardian to the five young princes. But he grumbled, and said--"The ducal widow had maids of honour enough to dam up the river with if she chose; and he wished for no more pet doves to be brought to court, particularly not Sidonia; for he knew her father was ambitious, and longed to be called 'your Grace.'" Even Fabianus could not prevail in Sidonia's favour. So the Duke and he returned home to Stettin; but scarcely had they arrived there, when a letter came from the ducal widow of Wolgast, saying, that on no account would she receive Sidonia at her court. The Duke might therefore keep her at his own if he chose. So the Duke took no further trouble. But Sidonia was not so easily satisfied; and taking the matter in her own hands she left her father's castle without waiting his permission, and set off for Stettin. On arriving, she prayed the Duke to bring her to Wolgast without delay, as she knew there was an honourable, noble lady there who would watch over her, as indeed she felt would be necessary at a court. And Fabianus supported her petition; for he was much edified with her expressed desire to crucify the flesh, with the affections and lusts. Ah! could he have known her! So the kind-hearted Duke embarked with her immediately, without telling any one; and having a fair wind, sailed up directly to the little water-gate, and anchored close beneath the Castle of Wolgast. Here they landed; the Duke having Sidonia under one arm, and a little wooden puppet under the other. It was an Eve, for whom Sidonia had served as the model; and truly she was an Eve in sin, and brought as much evil upon the land of Pomerania as our first mother upon the whole world. Sidonia was enveloped in a black mantle, and wore a hood lined with fur covering her face. The Duke also had on a large wrapping cloak, and a cap of yellow leather upon his head. So they entered the private gate, and on through the first and second courts of the castle, without her Grace hearing a word of their arrival. And they proceeded on through the gallery, until they reached the private apartments of the princess, from whence resounded a psalm which her Grace was singing with her ladies while they spun, and which psalm was played by a little musical box placed within the Duchess's own spinning-wheel. Duke Barnim had made it himself for her Grace, and it was right pleasant to hear. After listening some time, the Duke knocked, and a maid of honour opened the door. When they entered, her Grace was so confounded that she dropped her thread and exclaimed, "Dear uncle! is this maiden, then, Sidonia?" examining her from head to foot while she spoke. The Duke excused himself by saying that he had promised her father to bring her here; but her Grace cut short his apologies with "Dear uncle, Dr. Martin Luther told me on my wedding-day that he never allowed himself to be interrupted at his prayers, because it betokened the presence of something evil. And you have now broken in on our devotions; therefore sit down with the maiden and join our psalm, if you know it." Then her Grace took up the reel again, and having set the clock-work going with her foot, struck up the psalm once more, in a clear, loud voice, joined by all her ladies. But Sidonia sat still, and kept her eyes upon the ground. When they had ended, her Grace, having first crossed herself, advanced to Sidonia, and said, "Since you arrived at my court, you may remain; but take care that you never lift your eyes upon the young men. Such wantons are hateful to my sight; for, as the Scripture says, 'A fair woman without discretion is like a circlet of gold upon a swine's head.'" Sidonia changed colour at this; but the Duke, who held quite a different opinion about such women, entreated her Grace not to be always so gloomy and melancholy--that it was time now for her to forget her late spouse, and think of gayer subjects. To which she answered, "Dear uncle, I cannot forget my Philip, particularly as my fate was foreshadowed at my bridal by a most ominous occurrence." Now, the Duke had heard this story of the bridal a hundred times; yet to please her he asked, "And what was it, dear cousin?" "Listen," she replied. "When Dr. Martin Luther exchanged our rings, mine fell from his hand to the ground; at which he was evidently troubled, and taking it up, he blew on it; then turning round, exclaimed--'Away with thee, Satan! away with thee, Satan! Meddle not in this matter!' And so my dear lord was taken from me in his forty-fifth year, and I was left a desolate widow." Here she sobbed and put her kerchief to her eyes. "But, cousin," said the Duke, "remember you have a great blessing from God in your five fine sons. And that reminds me--where are they all now?" This restored her Grace, and she began to discourse of her children, telling how handsome was the young Prince Ernest, and that he and the little Casimir were only with her now. Here Sidonia, as the other ladies remarked, moved restlessly on her chair, and her eyes flashed like torches, so that it was evident some plan had struck her, for she was strengthening day by day in wickedness. "Ay, cousin," cried the Duke, "it is no wonder a handsome mother should have handsome sons. And now what think you of giving us a jolly wedding? It is time for you to think of a second husband, methinks, after having wept ten years for your Philip. The best doctor, they say, for a young widow, is a handsome lover. What think you of myself, for instance?" And he pulled off his leather cap, and put his white head and beard up close to her Grace. Now, though her Grace could not help laughing at his position and words, yet she grew as sour as vinegar again immediately; for all the ladies tittered, and, as to Sidonia, she laughed outright. "Fie! uncle," said her Grace, "a truce to such folly; do you not know what St. Paul says--'Let the widows abide even as I'?" "Ay, true, dear cousin; but, then, does he not say, too, 'I will that the younger widows marry'?" "Ah, but, dear uncle, I am no longer young." "Why, you are as young and active as a girl; and I engage, cousin, if any stranger came in here to look for the widow, he would find it difficult to make her out amongst the young maidens; don't you think so, Sidonia?" "Ah, yes," she replied; "I never imagined her Grace was so young. She is as blooming as a rose." This appeared to please the Princess, for she smiled slightly and then sighed; but gave his Grace a smart slap when he attempted to seize her hand and kiss it, saying--"Now, uncle, I told you to leave off this foolery." At this moment the band outside struck up Duke Bogislaff's march--the same that was played before him in Jerusalem when he ascended the Via Dolorosa up to Golgotha; for it was the custom here to play this march half-an-hour before dinner, in order to gather all the household, knights, squires, pages, and even grooms and peasants, to the castle, where they all received entertainment. And ten rooms were laid with dinner, and all stood open, so that any one might enter under the permission of the Court Marshal. All this I must notice here, because Sidonia afterwards caused much scandal by these means. The music now rejoiced her greatly, and she began to move her little feet, not in a pilgrim, but in a waltz measure, and to beat time with them, as one could easily perceive by the motion underneath her mantle. The Grand Chamberlain, Ulrich von Schwerin, now entered, and having looked at Sidonia with much surprise, advanced to kiss the hand of the Duke and bid him welcome to Wolgast. Then, turning to her Grace, he inquired if the twelve pages should wait at table to do honour to the Duke of Stettin. But the Duke forbade them, saying he wished to dine in private for this day with the Duchess and her two sons; the Grand Chamberlain, too, he hoped would be present, and Sidonia might have a seat at the ducal table, as she was of noble blood; besides, he had taken her likeness as Eve, and the first of women ought to sit at the first table. Hereupon the Duke drew forth the puppet, and called to Ulrich--"Here! you have seen my Adam in Treptow; what think you now of Eve? Look, dear cousin, is she not the image of Sidonia?" At this speech both looked very grave. Ulrich said nothing; but her Grace replied, "You will make the girl vain, dear uncle." And Ulrich added, "Yes, and the image has such an expression, that if the real Eve looked so, I think she would have left her husband in the lurch and run with the devil himself to the devil." While the last verse of the march was playing--"To Zion comes Pomerania's Prince"--they proceeded to dinner--the Duke and the Princes leading, while from every door along the corridor the young knights and pages peeped out to get a sight of Sidonia, who, having thrown off her mantle, swept by them in a robe of crimson velvet laced with gold. When they entered the dining-hall, Prince Ernest was leaning against one of the pillars wearing a black Spanish mantle, fastened with chains of gold. He stepped forward to greet the Duke, and inquire after his health. The Duke was well pleased to see him, and tapped him on the cheek, exclaiming-- "By my faith, cousin, I have not heard too much of you. What a fine youth you have grown up since you left the university." But how Sidonia's eyes sparkled when (for his misfortune) she found herself seated next him at table. The Duchess now called upon Sidonia to say the "gratias;" but she blundered and stammered, which many imputed to modesty, so that Prince Ernest had to repeat it in her stead. This seemed to give him courage; for when the others began to talk around the table, he ventured to bid her welcome to his mother's court. When they rose from table, Sidonia was again commanded to say grace; but being unable, the Prince came to her relief and repeated the words for her. And now the evil spirit without doubt put it into the Duke's head, who had drunk rather freely, to say to her Grace-- "Dear cousin, I have introduced the Italian fashion at my court, which is, that every knight kisses the lady next him on rising from dinner--let us do the same here." And herewith he first kissed her Grace and then Sidonia. Ulrich von Schwerin looked grave at this and shook his head, particularly when the Duke encouraged Prince Ernest to follow his example; but the poor youth looked quite ashamed, and cast down his eyes. However, when he raised them again Sidonia's were fixed on him, and she murmured, "Will you not learn?" with such a glance accompanying the words, that he could no longer resist to touch her lips. So there was great laughing in the hall; and the Duke then, taking his puppet under one arm and Sidonia under the other, descended with her to the castle gardens, complaining that he never got a good laugh in this gloomy house, let him do what he would. And the next day he departed, though the Prince sent his equerry to know would his Grace desire to hunt that day; or, if he preferred fishing, there were some excellent carp within the domain. But the Duke replied, that he would neither ride nor fish, but sail away at ten of the clock, if the wind were favourable. So many feared that his Grace was annoyed; and therefore the Duchess and Prince Ernest, along with the Grand Chamberlain, attended him to the gate; and even to please him, Sidonia was allowed to accompany them. The Pomeranian standard also was hoisted to do him honour, and finally he bade the illustrious widow farewell, recommending Sidonia to her care. But the fair maiden herself he took in his arms, she weeping and sobbing, and admonished her to be careful and discreet; and so, with a fair wind, set sail from Wolgast, and never once looked back. CHAPTER V. _Sidonia knows nothing of God's Word, but seeks to learn it from the young Prince of Wolgast._ Next day, Sunday, her Grace was unable to attend divine service in the church, having caught cold by neglecting to put on her mantle when she accompanied the Duke down to the water-gate. However, though her Grace could not leave her chamber, yet she heard the sermon of the preacher all the same; for an ear-tube descended from her apartment down on the top of the pulpit, by which means every word reached her, and a maid of honour always remained in attendance to find out the lessons of the day, and the other portions of the divine service, for her Grace, who thus could follow the clergyman word for word. Sidonia was the one selected for the office on this day. But, gracious Heavens! when the Duchess said, Find me out the prophet Isaiah, Sidonia looked in the New Testament; and when she said, Open the Gospel of St. John, Sidonia looked in the Old Testament. At first her Grace did not perceive her blunders; but when she became aware of them, she started up, and tearing the Bible out of her hands, exclaimed, "What! are you a heathen? Yesterday you could not repeat a simple grace that every child knows by heart, and to-day you do not know the difference between the Old and New Testaments. For shame! Alas! what an ill weed I have introduced into my house." So the cunning wench began to weep, and said, her father had never allowed her to learn Christianity, though she wished to do so ardently, but always made a mock of it, and for this reason she had sought a refuge with her Grace, where she hoped to become a truly pious and believing Christian. The Duchess was quite softened by her tears, and promised that Dr. Dionysius Gerschovius should examine her in the catechism, and see what she knew. He was a learned man from Daber [Footnote: A small town in Lower Pomerania.], and her Grace's chaplain. The very idea of the doctor frightened Sidonia so much, that her teeth chattered, and she entreated her Grace, while she kissed her hand, to allow her at least a fortnight for preparation and study before the doctor came. The Duchess promised this, and said, that Clara von Dewitz, another of her maidens, would be an excellent person to assist her in her studies, as she came from Daber also, and was familiar with the views and doctrines held by Dr. Gerschovius. This Clara we shall hear more of in our history. She was a year older than Sidonia, intelligent, courageous, and faithful, with a quiet, amiable disposition, and of most pious and Christian demeanour. She wore a high, stiff ruff, out of which peeped forth her head scarcely visible, and a long robe, like a stole, sweeping behind her. She was privately betrothed to her Grace's Master of the Horse, Marcus Bork by name, a cousin of Sidonia's; for, as her Grace discouraged all kinds of gallantry or love-making at her court, they were obliged to keep the matter secret, so that no one, not even her Grace, suspected anything of the engagement. This was the person appointed to instruct Sidonia in Christianity; and every day the fair pupil visited Clara in her room for an hour. But, alas! theology was sadly interrupted by Sidonia's folly and levity, for she chattered away on all subjects: first about Prince Ernest--was he affianced to any one? was he in love? had Clara herself a lover? and if that old proser, meaning the Duchess, looked always as sour? did she never allow a feast or a dance? and then she would toss the catechism under the bed, or tear it and trample on it, muttering, with much ill-temper, that she was too old to be learning catechisms like a child. Poor Clara tried to reason with her mildly, and said--"Her Grace was very particular on these points. The maids of honour were obliged to assemble weekly once in the church and once in her Grace's own room, to be examined by Dr. Gerschovius, not only in the Lutheran Catechism, which they all knew well, but also in that written by his brother, Dr. Timothy Gerschovius of Old Stettin; so Sidonia had better first learn the _Catechismum Lutheri_, and afterwards the _Catechismum Gerschovii_." At last Sidonia grew so weary of catechisms that she determined to run away from court. But Satan had more for her to do; so he put a little syrup into the wormwood draught, and thus it was. One day passing along the corridor from Clara's room, it so happened that Prince Ernest opened his door, just as she came up to it, to let out the smoke, and then began to walk up and down, playing softly on his lute. Sidonia stood still for a few minutes with her eyes thrown up in ecstasy, and then passed on; but the Prince stepped to the door, and asked her did she play. "Alas! no," she answered. "Her father had forbidden her to learn the lute, though music was her passion, and her heart seemed almost breaking with joy when she listened to it. If his Highness would but play one little air over again for her." "Yes, if you will enter, but not while you are standing there at my door." "Ah, do not ask me to enter, that would not be seemly; but I will sit down here on this beer-barrel in the corridor and listen; besides, music is improved by distance." And she looked so tenderly at the young Prince that his heart burned within him, and he stepped out into the corridor to play; but the sound reaching the ears of her Grace, she looked out, and Sidonia jumped up from the beer-barrel and fled away to her own room. When Sunday came again, all the maids of honour were assembled, as usual, in her Grace's apartment, to be examined in the catechism; and probably the Duchess had lamented much to the doctor over Sidonia's levity and ignorance, for he kept a narrow watch on her the whole day. At four of the clock Dr. Gerschovius entered in his gown and bands, looking very solemn; for it was a saying of his "that the devil invented laughter; and that it were better for a man to be a weeping Heraclitus than a laughing Democritus." After he had kissed the hand of her Grace, he said they had better now begin with the Commandments; and, turning to Sidonia, asked her, "What is forbidden by the seventh commandment?" Now Sidonia, who had only learned the Lutheran Catechism, did not understand the question in this form out of the Gerschovian Catechism, and remained silent. "What!" said the doctor, "not know my brother's catechism! You must get one directly from the court bookseller--the Catechism of Doctor Timothy Gerschovius--and have it learned by next Sunday." Then turning to Clara, he repeated the question, and she, having answered, received great praise. Now it happened that just at this time the ducal horse were led up to the horse-pond to water, and all the young pages and knights were gathered in a group under the window of her Grace's apartment, laughing and jesting merrily. So Sidonia looked out at them, which the doctor no sooner perceived than he slapped her on the hand with the catechism, exclaiming, "What! have you not heard just now that all sinful desires are forbidden by the seventh commandment, and yet you look forth upon the young men from the window? Tell me what are sinful desires?" But the proud girl grew red with indignation, and cried, "Do you dare to strike me?" Then, turning to her Grace, she said, "Madam, that sour old priest has struck me on the fingers. I will not suffer this. My father shall hear of it." Hereupon her Grace, and even the doctor, tried to appease her, but in vain, and she ran crying from the apartment. In the corridor she met the old treasurer, Jacob Zitsewitz, who hated the doctor and all his rigid doctrines. So she complained of the treatment which she had received, and pressed his hand and stroked his beard, saying, would he permit a castle and land dowered maiden to be scolded and insulted by an old parson because she looked out at a window? That was worse than in the days of Popery. Now Zitsewitz, who had a little wine in his head, on hearing this, ran in great wrath to the apartment of her Grace, where soon a great uproar was heard. For the treasurer, in the heat of his remonstrance with the priest, struck a little table violently which stood near him, and overthrew it. On this had Iain the superb escritoire of her Highness, made of Venetian glass, in which the ducal arms were painted; and also the magnificent album of her deceased lord, Duke Philip. The escritoire was broken, the ink poured forth upon the album, from thence ran down to the costly Persian carpet, a present from her brother, the Prince of Saxony, and finally stained the velvet robe of her Highness herself, who started up screaming, so that the old chamberlain rushed in to know what had happened, and then he fell into a rage both with the priest and the treasurer. At length her Grace was comforted by hearing that a chemist in Grypswald could restore the book, and mend the glass again as good as new; still she wept, and exclaimed, "Alas! who could have thought it? all this was foreshadowed to her by Dr. Martinus dropping her ring." Here the treasurer, to conciliate her Grace, pretended that he never had heard the story of the betrothal, and asked, "What does your Grace mean?" Whereupon drying her eyes she answered, "O Master Jacob, you will hear a strange story"--and here she went over each particular, though every child in the street had it by heart. So this took away her grief, and every one got to rights again, for that day. But worse was soon to befall. I have said that half-an-hour before dinner the band played to summon all within the castle and the retainers to their respective messes, as the custom then was; so that the long corridor was soon filled with a crowd of all conditions--pages, knights, squires, grooms, maids, and huntsmen, all hurrying to the apartments where their several tables were laid. Sidonia, being aware of this, upon the first roll of the drum skipped out into the corridor, dancing up and down the whole length of it to the music, so that the players declared they had never seen so beautiful a dancer, at which her heart beat with joy; and as the crowd came up, they stopped to admire her grace and beauty. Then she would pause and say a few pleasing words to each, to a huntsman, if he were passing--"Ah, I think no deer in the world could escape you, my fine young peasant;" or if a knight, she would praise the colour of his doublet and the tie of his garter; or if a laundress, she would commend the whiteness of her linen, which she had never seen equalled; and as to the old cook and butler, she enchanted them by asking, had his Grace of Stettin ever seen them, for assuredly, if he had, he would have taken their fine heads as models for Abraham and Noah. Then she flung largess amongst them to drink the health of the Duchess. Only when a young noble passed, she grew timid and durst not venture to address him, but said, loud enough for him to hear, "Oh, how handsome! Do you know his name?" Or, "It is easy to see that he is a born nobleman"--and such like hypocritical flatteries. The Princess never knew a word of all this, for, according to etiquette, she was the last to seat herself at table. So Sidonia's doings were not discovered until too late, for by that time she had won over the whole court, great and small, to her interests. Amongst the cavaliers who passed one day were two fine young men, Wedig von Schwetzkow, and Johann Appelmann, son of the burgomaster at Stargard. They were both handsome; but Johann was a dissolute, wild profligate, and Wedig was not troubled with too much sense. Still he had not fallen into the evil courses which made the other so notorious. "Who is that handsome youth?" asked Sidonia as Johann passed; and when they told her, "Ah, a gentleman!" she exclaimed, "who is of far higher value in my eyes than a nobleman." _Summa:_ they both fell in love with her on the instant; but all the young squires were the same more or less, except her cousin Marcus Bork, seeing that he was already betrothed. Likewise after dinner, in place of going direct to the ladies' apartments, she would take a circuitous route, so as to go by the quarter where the men dined, and as she passed their doors, which they left open on purpose, what rejoicing there was, and such running and squeezing just to get a glimpse of her--the little putting their heads under the arms of the tall, and there they began to laugh and chat; but neither the Duchess nor the old chamberlain knew anything of this, for they were in a different wing of the castle, and besides, always took a sleep after dinner. However, old Zitsewitz, when he heard the clamour, knew well it was Sidonia, and would jump up from the marshal's table, though the old marshal shook his head, and run to the gallery to have a chat with her himself, and she laughed and coquetted with him, so that the old knight would run after her and take her in his arms, asking her where she would wish to go. Then she sometimes said, to the castle garden to feed the pet stag, for she had never seen so pretty a thing in all her life; and she would fetch crumbs of bread with her to feed it. So he must needs go with her, and Sidonia ran down the steps with him that led from the young men's quarter to the castle court, while they all rose up to look after her, and laugh at the old fool of a treasurer. But in a short time they followed too, running up and down the steps in crowds, to see Sidonia feeding the stag and caressing it, and sometimes trying to ride on it, while old Zitsewitz held the horns. Prince Ernest beheld all this from a window, and was ready to die with jealousy and mortification, for he felt that Sidonia was gay and friendly with every one but him. Indeed, since the day of the lute-playing, he fancied she shunned him and treated him coldly. But as Sidonia had observed particularly, that whenever the young Prince passed her in the gallery he cast down his eyes and sighed, she took another way of managing him. CHAPTER VI. _How the young Prince prepared a petition to his mother, the Duchess, in favour of Sidonia--Item, of the strange doings of the Laplander with his magic drum._ The day preceding that on which Sidonia was to repeat the Catechism of Doctor Gerschovius (of which, by the way, she had not learned one word), the young Duke suddenly entered his mother's apartment, where she and her maidens were spinning, and asked her if she remembered anything about a Laplander with a drum, who had foretold some event to her and his father whilst they were at Penemunde some years before; for he had been arrested at Eldena, and was now in Wolgast. "Alas!" said her Grace, "I perfectly remember the horrible sorcerer. One spring I was at the hunt with your father near Penemunde, when this wretch suddenly appeared driving two cows before him on a large ice-field. He pretended that while he was telling fortunes to the girls who milked the cows, a great storm arose, and drove him out into the wide sea, which was a terrible misfortune to him. But your father told him in Swedish, which language the knave knew, that it had been better to prophesy his own destiny. To which he replied, a man could as little foretell his own fate as see the back of his own head, which every one can see but himself. However, if the Duke wished, he would tell him his fortune, and if it did not come out true, let all the world hold him as a liar for his life long. "Alas! your father consented. Whereupon the knave began to dance and play upon his drum like one frenzied; so that it was evident to see the spirit was working within him. Then he fell down like one dead, and cried, 'Woe to thee when thy house is burning! Woe to thee when thy house is burning!' "Therefore be warned, my son; have nothing to do with this fellow, for it so happened even as he said. On the 11th December '57, our castle was burned, and your poor father had a rib broken in consequence. Would that I had been the rib broken for him, so that he might still reign over the land; and this was the true cause of his untimely death. Therefore dismiss this sorcerer, for it is Satan himself speaks in him." Here Sidonia grew quite pale, and dropped the thread, as if taken suddenly ill. Then she prayed the Duchess to excuse her, and permit her to retire to her own room. The moment the Duchess gave permission, Sidonia glided out; but, in place of going to her chamber, she threw herself in a languid attitude upon a seat in the corridor, just where she knew Prince Ernest must pass, and leaned her head upon her hand. He soon came out of his mother's room, and seeing Sidonia, took her hand tenderly, asking, with visible emotion-- "Dear lady, what has happened?" "Ah," she answered, "I am so weak that I cannot go on to my little apartment. I know not what ails me; but I am so afraid----" "Afraid of what, dearest lady?" "Of that sour old priest. He is to examine me to-morrow in the Catechism of Gerschovius, and I cannot learn a word of it, do what I will. I know Luther's Catechism quite well" (this was a falsehood, we know), "but that does not satisfy him, and if I cannot repeat it he will slap my hands or box my ears, and my lady the Duchess will be more angry than ever; but I am too old now to learn catechisms." Then she trembled like an aspen-leaf, and fixed her eyes on him with such tenderness that he trembled likewise, and drawing her arm within his, supported her to her chamber. On the way she pressed his hand repeatedly; but with each pressure, as he afterwards confessed, a pang shot through his heart, which might have excited compassion from his worst enemy. When they reached her chamber, she would not let him enter, but modestly put him back, saying, "Leave me--ah! leave me, gracious Prince. I must creep to my bed; and in the meantime let me entreat you to persuade the priest not to torment me to-morrow morning." The Prince now left her, and forgetting all about the Lapland wizard whom he had left waiting in the courtyard, he rushed over the drawbridge, up the main street behind St. Peter's, and into the house of Dr. Gerschovius. The doctor was indignant at his petition. "My young Prince," he said, "if ever a human being stood in need of God's Word, it is that young maiden." At last, however, upon the entreaties of Prince Ernest, he consented to defer her examination for four weeks, during which time she could fully perfect herself in the catechism of his learned brother. He then prayed the Prince not to allow his eyes to be dazzled by this fair, sinful beauty, who would delude him as she had done all the other men in the castle, not excepting even that old sinner Zitsewitz. When the Prince returned to the castle, he found a great crowd assembled round the Lapland wizard, all eagerly asking to have their fortunes told, and Sidonia was amongst them, as merry and lively as if nothing had ailed her. When the Prince expressed his surprise, she said, that finding herself much relieved by lying down, she had ventured into the fresh air, to recreate herself, and have her fortune told. Would not the Prince likewise wish to hear his? So, forgetting all his mother's wise injunctions, he advanced with Sidonia to the wizard. The Lapland drum, which lay upon his knees, was a strange instrument; and by it we can see what arts Satan employs to strengthen his kingdom in all places and by all means. For the Laplanders are Christians, though they in some sort worship the devil, and therefore he imparts to them much of his own power. This drum which they use is made out of a piece of hollow wood, which must be either fir, pine, or birch, and which grows in such a particular place that it follows the course of the sun; that is, the pectines, fibræ, and lineæ in the annual rings of the wood must wind from right to left. Having hollowed out such a tree, they spread a skin over it, fastened down with little pegs; and on the centre of the skin is painted the sun, surrounded by figures of men, beasts, birds, and fishes, along with Christ and the holy Apostles. All this is done with the rind of the elder-tree, chewed first beneath their teeth. Upon the top of the drum there is an index in the shape of a triangle, from which hang a number of little rings and chains. When the wizard wishes to propitiate Satan and receive his power, he strikes the drum with a hammer made of the reindeer's horn, not so much to procure a sound as to set the index in motion with all its little chains, that it may move over the figures, and point to whatever gives the required answer. At the same time the magician murmurs conjurations, springs sometimes up from the ground, screams, laughs, dances, reels, becomes black in the face, foams, twists his eyes, and falls to the ground at last in an ecstasy, dragging the drum down upon his face. Any one may then put questions to him, and all will come to pass that he answers. All this was done by the wizard; but he desired strictly that when he fell upon the ground, no one should touch him with the foot, and secondly, that all flies and insects should be kept carefully from him. So after he had danced, and screamed, and twisted his face so horribly that half the women fainted, and foamed and raged until the demon seemed to have taken full possession of him, he fell down, and then every one put questions to him, to which he responded; but the answers sometimes produced weeping, sometimes laughing, according as some gentle maiden heard that her lover was safe, or that he had been struck by the mast on shipboard and tumbled into the sea. And all came out true, as was afterwards proved. Sidonia now invited the Prince to try his fortune; and so, forgetting the admonitions of the Duchess, he said, "What dost thou prophesy to me?" "Beware of a woman, if you would live long and happily," was the answer. "But of what woman?" "I will not name her, for she is present." Then the Prince turned pale and looked at Sidonia, who grew pale also, but made no answer, only laughed, and advancing asked, "What dost thou prophesy to me?" But immediately the wizard shrieked, "Away! away! I burn, I burn! thou makest me yet hotter than I am!" Many thought these exclamations referred to Sidonia's beauty, particularly the young lords, who murmured, "Now every one must acknowledge her beauty, when even this son of Satan feels his heart burning when she approaches." And Sidonia laughed merrily at their gallantries. Just then the Grand Chamberlain came by, and having heard what had happened, he angrily dismissed the crowd, and sending for the executioner, ordered the cheating impostor to be whipped and branded, and then sent over the frontier. The wizard, who had been lying quite stiff, now cried out (though he had never seen the Chamberlain before)--"Listen, Ulrich! I will prophesy something to thee: if it comes not to pass, then punish me; but if it does, then give me a boat and seven loaves, that I may sail away to-morrow to my own country." Ulrich refused to hear his prophecy; but the wizard cried out--"Ulrich, this day thy wife Hedwig will die at Spantekow." Ulrich grew pale, but only answered, "Thou liest! how can that be?" He replied, "Thy cousin Clas will visit her; she will descend to the cellar to fetch him some of the Italian wine for which you wrote, and which arrived yesterday; a step of the stairs will break as she is ascending; she will fall forward upon the flask, which will cut her throat through, and so she will die." When he ceased, the alarmed Ulrich called loudly to the chief equerry, Appelmann, who just then came by--"Quick! saddle the best racer in the stables, and ride for life to Spantekow, for it may be as he has prophesied, and let us outwit the devil. Haste, haste, for the love of God, and I will never forget it to thee!" So the equerry rode without stop or stay to Spantekow, and he found the cousin Clas in the house; but when he asked for the Lady Hedwig, they said, "She is in the cellar." So no misfortune had happened then; but as they waited and she appeared not, they descended to look for her, and lo! just as the wizard had prophesied, she had fallen upon the stairs while ascending, and there lay dead. The mournful news was brought by sunset to Wolgast, and Ulrich, in his despair and grief, wished to burn the Laplander; but Prince Ernest hindered him, saying, "It is more knightly, Ulrich, to keep your word than to cool your vengeance." So the old man stood silent a long space, and then said, "Well, young man, if you abandon Sidonia, I will release the Laplander." The Prince coloured, and the Lord Chamberlain thought that he had discovered a secret; but as the prophecy of the wizard came again into Prince Ernest's mind, he said-- "Well, Ulrich, I will give up the maiden Sidonia. Here is my hand." Accordingly, next morning the wizard was released from prison and given a boat, with seven loaves and a pitcher of water, that he might sail back to his own country. The wind, however, was due north, but the people who crossed the bridge to witness his departure were filled with fear when they saw him change the wind at his pleasure to suit himself; for he pulled out a string full of knots, and having swung it about, murmuring incantations, all the vanes on the towers creaked and whirled right about, all the windmills in the town stopped, all the vessels and boats that were going up the stream became quite still, and their sails flapped on the masts, for the wind had changed in a moment from north to south, and the north waves and the south waves clashed together. As every one stood wondering at this, the sailors and fishermen in particular, the wizard sprang into his boat and set forth with a fair wind, singing loudly, "Jooike Duara! Jooike Duara!" [Footnote: This is the beginning of a magic rhyme, chanted even by the distant Calmucks--namely, _Dschie jo eie jog_.] and soon disappeared from sight, nor was he ever again seen in that country. CHAPTER VII. _How Ulrich von Schwerin buries his spouse, and Doctor Gerschovius comforts him out of God's Word._ This affair with the Lapland wizard much troubled the Grand Chamberlain, and his faith suffered sore temptations. So he referred to Dr. Gerschovius, and asked him how the prophets of God differed from those of the devil. Whereupon the doctor recommended him to meditate on God's Word, wherein he would find a source of consolation and a solution of all doubts. So the mourning Ulrich departed for his castle of Spantekow, trusting in the assistance of God. And her Grace, with all her court, resolved to attend the funeral also, to do him honour. They proceeded forth, therefore, dressed in black robes, their horses also caparisoned with black hangings, and the Duchess ordered a hundred wax lights for the ceremony. Sidonia alone declined attending, and gave out that she was sick in bed. The truth, however, was, that as Duke Ernest was obliged to remain at home to take the command of the castle, and affix his signature to all papers, she wished to remain also. The mourning cortège, therefore, had scarcely left the court, when Sidonia rose and seated herself at the window, which she knew the young Prince must pass along with his attendants on their way to the office of the castle. Then taking up a lute, which she had purchased privately, and practised night and morning in place of learning the catechism, she played a low, soft air, to attract their attention. So all the young knights looked up; and when Prince Ernest arrived he looked up also, and seeing Sidonia, exclaimed, with surprise, "Beautiful Sidonia, how have you learned the lute?" At which she blushed and answered modestly, "Gracious Prince, I am only self-taught. No one here understands the lute except your Highness." "Does this employment, then, give you much pleasure?" "Ah, yes! If I could only play it well; I would give half my life to learn it properly. There is no such sweet enjoyment upon earth, I think, as this." "But you have been sick, lady, and the cold air will do you an injury." "Yes, it is true I have been ill, but the air rather refreshes me; and besides, I feel the melancholy of my solitude less here." "Now farewell, dear lady; I must attend to the business of the castle." This little word--"dear lady"--gave Sidonia such confidence, that by the time she expected Prince Ernest to pass again on his return, she was seated at the window awaiting him with her lute, to which she now sang in a clear, sweet voice. But the Prince passed on as if he heard nothing--never even once looked up, to Sidonia's great mortification. However, the moment he reached his own apartment, he commenced playing a melancholy air upon his lute, as if in response to hers. The artful young maiden no sooner heard this than she opened her door. The Prince at the same instant opened his to let out the smoke, and their eyes met, when Sidonia uttered a feeble cry and fell fainting upon the floor. The Prince, seeing this, flew to her, raised her up, and trembling with emotion, carried her back to her room and laid her down upon the bed. Now indeed it was well for him that he had given that promise to Ulrich. When Sidonia after some time slowly opened her eyes, the Prince asked tenderly what ailed her; and she said, "I must have taken cold at the window, for I felt very ill, and went to the door to call an attendant; but I must have fainted then, for I remember nothing more." Alas! the poor Prince, he believed all this, and conjured her to lie down until he called a maid, and sent for the physician if she desired it; but, no--she refused, and said it would pass off soon. (Ah, thou cunning maiden! it may well pass off when it never was on.) However, she remained in bed until the next day, when the Princess and her train returned home from the funeral. Her Grace had assisted at the obsequies with all princely state, and even laid a crown of rosemary with her own hand upon the head of the corpse, and a little prayer-book beside it, open at that fine hymn "Pauli Sperati" (which also was sung over the grave). Then the husband laid a tin crucifix on the coffin, with the inscription from I John iii. 8--"The Son of God was manifested that He might destroy the works of the devil." After which the coffin was lowered into the grave with many tears. Some days after this, being Sunday, Doctor Gerschovius and the Grand Chamberlain were present at the ducal table. Ulrich indeed ate little, for he was filled with grief, only sipped a little broth, into which he had crumbled some reindeer cheese, not to appear ungracious; but when dinner was over, he raised his head, and asked Doctor Gerschovius to inform him now in what lay the difference between the prophets of God and those of the devil. The Duchess was charmed at the prospect of such a profitable discourse, and ordered a cushion and footstool to be placed for herself, that she might remain to hear it. Then she sent for the whole household--maidens, squires, and pages--that they too might be edified, and learn the true nature of the devil's gifts. The hall was soon as full, therefore, as if a sermon were about to be preached; and the doctor, seeing this, stroked his beard, and he begun as follows: [Footnote: Perhaps some readers will hold the rationalist doctrine that no prophecy is possible or credible, and that no mortal can under any circumstances see into futurity; but how then can they account for the wonderful phenomena of animal magnetism, which are so well authenticated? Do they deny all the facts which have been elicited by the great advance made recently in natural and physiological philosophy? I need not here bring forward proofs from the ancients, showing their universal belief in the possibility of seeing into futurity, nor a cloud of witnesses from our modern philosophers, attesting the truth of the phenomena of somnambulism, but only observe that this very Academy of Paris, which in 1784 anathematised Mesmer as a quack, a cheat, and a charlatan or fool, and which in conjunction with all the academies of Europe (that of Berlin alone excepted) reviled his doctrines and insulted all who upheld them, as witches had been reviled in preceding centuries, and compelled Mesmer himself to fly for protection to Frankfort--this very academy, I say, on the 12th February 1826, rescinded all their condemnatory verdicts, and proclaimed that the wonderful phenomena of animal magnetism had been so well authenticated that doubt was no longer possible. This confession of faith was the more remarkable, because the members of the commission of inquiry had been carefully selected, on purpose, from physicians who were totally adverse to the doctrines of Mesmer. There are but two modes, I think, of explaining these extraordinary phenomena--either by supposing them effected by supernatural agency, as all seers and diviners from antiquity, through the Middle Ages down to our somnambulists, have pretended that they really stood in communication with spirit; or, by supposing that there is an innate latent divining element in our own natures, which only becomes evident and active under certain circumstances, and which is capable of revealing the _future_ with more or less exactitude just as the mind can recall the _past_. For _past_ and _future_ are but different forms of our own subjective intuition of time, and because this internal intuition represents no figure, we seek to supply the defect by an analogy. For time exists _within_ us, not _without_ us; it is not something which subsists of itself, but it is the form only of our internal sense. These two modes of explaining the phenomena present, I know, great difficulties; the latter especially. However, the pantheistical solution of the Hegelian school adopted by Kieser, Kluge, Wirth, Hoffman, pleases me still less. I even prefer that of Jung-Stilling and Kerner--but at all events one thing is certain, the _facts_ are there; only ignorance, stupidity, and obstinacy can deny them. The _cause_ is still a subject of speculation, doubt, and difficulty. It is only by a vast induction of facts, as in natural philosophy, that we can ever hope to arrive at the knowledge of a general law. The crown of all creation is _man_; therefore while we investigate so acutely all other creatures, let us not shrink back from the strange and unknown depths of our own nature which magnetism has opened to us.] I am rejoiced to treat of this subject now, considering how lately that demon Lapp befooled ye all. And I shall give you many signs, whereby in future a prophet of God may be distinguished from a prophet of the devil. 1st, Satan's prophets are not conscious of what they utter; but God's prophets are always perfectly conscious, both of the inspiration they receive and the revelations they make known. For as the Laplander grew frenzied, and foamed at the mouth, so it has been with all false prophets from the beginning. Even the blind heathen called prophesying _mania_, or the wisdom of _madness_. The secret of producing this madness was known to them; sometimes it was by the use of roots or aromatic herbs, or by exhalations, as in the case of the Pythoness, whose incoherent utterances were written by the priests of Apollo, for when the fit was over, all remembrance of what she had prophesied vanished too. In the Bible we find all false prophets described as frenzied. In Isaiah xliv. 25--"God maketh the diviners mad." In Ezekiel xiii. 3--"Woe to the foolish prophets." Hosea ix. 7--"The prophet is a fool, the spiritual man is mad." And Isaiah xxviii. 7 explains fully how this madness was produced. Namely, by wine and the strong drink _Sekar_. [Footnote: It is doubtful of what this drink was composed. Hieronymus and Aben Ezra imagine that it was of the nature of strong beer. Probably it resembled the potion with which the mystery-men amongst the savages of the present day produce this divining frenzy. We find such in use throughout Tartary, Siberia, America, and Africa, as if the usage had descended to them from one common tradition. Witches, it is well known, made frequent use of potions, and as all somnambulists assert that the seat of the soul's greatest activity is in the stomach, it is not incredible what Van Helmont relates, that having once tasted the root _napellus_, his intellect all at once, accompanied by an unusual feeling of ecstasy, seemed to remove from his brain to his stomach.] Further examples of this madness are given in the Bible, as Saul when under the influence of the evil spirit flung his spear at the innocent David; and the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal, who leaped upon the altar, and screamed, and cut themselves with knives and lancets until the blood flowed; and the maiden with the spirit of divination, that met Paul in the streets of Philippi; with many others. But all this is an abomination in the sight of God. For as the Lord came not to His prophet Elijah in the strong wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still small voice, so does He evidence Himself in all His prophets; and we find no record in Scripture, either of their madness, or of their having forgotten the oracles they uttered, like the Pythoness and others inspired by Satan. [Footnote: It is well known that somnambulists never remember upon their recovery what they have uttered during the crisis. Therefore phenomena of this class appear to belong, in some things, to that of the divining frenzy, though in others to quite a different category of the divining life.] Further, you may observe that the false prophets can always prophesy when they choose, Satan is ever willing to come when they exorcise him; but the true prophets of God are but instruments in the hand of the Lord, and can only speak when He chooses the spirit to enter into them. So we find them saying invariably--"This is the word which came unto me," or "This is the word which the Lord spake unto me." For the Lord is too high and holy to come at the bidding of a creature, or obey the summons of his will. St. Peter confirms this, 2 Pet. i. 21, that no prophecy ever came at the will of man. Again, the false prophets were persons of known infamous character, and in this differed from the prophets of God, who were always righteous men in word and deed. Diodorus informs us of the conduct of the Pythoness and the priests of Apollo, and also that all oracles were bought with gold, and the answer depended on the weight of the sack. As Ezekiel notices, xiii. 19; and Micah iii. 8. Further, the holy prophets suffered all manner of persecution for the sake of God, as Daniel, Elias, Micah, yet remained faithful, with but one exception, and were severely punished if they fell into crime, and the gift of prophecy taken from them; for God cannot dwell in a defiled temple, but Satan can dwell in no other. Also, Satan's prophets speak only of temporal things, but God's people of spiritual things. The heathen oracles, for instance, never foretold any events but those concerning peace or war, or what men desire in riches, health, or advancement--in short, temporal matters alone. Whereas God's people, in addition to temporal concerns, preached repentance and holiness to the Jewish people, and the coming of Christ's kingdom, in whom all nations should be blessed. For as the soul is superior to the body, so are God's prophets superior to those of the Prince of this world. And in conclusion, observe that Satan's seers abounded with lies, as all heathen history testifies, or their oracles were capable of such different interpretations that they became a subject of mockery and contempt to the wise amongst the ancient philosophers. But be not surprised if they sometimes spoke truth, as the Lapland wizard has done, for the devil's power is superior to man's, and he can see events which, though close at hand, are yet hidden from us, as a father can foretell an approaching storm, though his little son cannot do so, and therefore looks upon his father's wisdom as supernatural. [Footnote: The somnambulists also can prophesy of those events which are near at hand, but never of the distant.] But the devil has not the power to see into futurity, nor even the angels of God, only God Himself. The prophets of God, on the contrary, are given power by Him to look through all time at a glance, as if it were but a moment; for a thousand years to Him are but as a watch of the night; and therefore they all from the beginning testified of the Saviour that was to come, and rejoiced in His day as if they really beheld Him, and all stood together as brothers in one place, and at the same time in His blessed presence. But what unanimity and feeling has ever been observed by the seers of Satan, when the contradictions amongst their oracles were notorious to every one? And as the eyes of all the holy prophets centred upon Christ, so the eyes of the greatest of all prophets penetrated the furthest depths of futurity. Not only His own life, sufferings, death, and resurrection were foretold by Him, but the end of the Jewish kingdom, the dispersion of their race, the rise of His Church from the grain of mustard-seed to the wide, world-spreading tree; and all has been fulfilled. Be assured, therefore, that this eternal glory, which He promised to those who trust in Him, will be fulfilled likewise when He comes to judge all nations. So, my worthy Lord Ulrich, cease to weep for your spouse who sleeps in Jesus, for a greater Prophet than the Lapland wizard has said, "I am the resurrection and the life, whosoever believeth in Me shall never die." [Footnote: In addition to the foregoing distinctions between the Satanic and the holy prophets, I may add the following--that almost all the diviners amongst the heathen were _women_. For instance, Cassandra, the Pythia in Delphi, Triton and Peristhæa in Dodona, the Sybils, the Velleda of Tacitus, the Mandragoras, and Druidesses, the witches of the Reformation age; and in fine, the modern somnambules are all women too. But throughout the whole Bible we find that the prophetic power was exclusively conferred upon _men_, with two exceptions--namely, Deborah, Judges iv. 4, and Hilda, 2 Chron. xxxiv. 22--for there is no evidence that Miriam had a seer spirit; she was probably only God-inspired, though classed under the general term prophet. We find, indeed, that woe was proclaimed against the divining women who prophesy out of their own head, Ezekiel xiii. 17-23; so amongst the people of God the revelation of the future was confined to _men_, amongst the heathen to _women_, or if men are mentioned in these pagan rites, it is only as assistants and inferior agents, like animals, metals, roots, stones, and such like. See Cicero, _De Divinatione_, i. 18.] CHAPTER VIII. _How Sidonia rides upon the pet stag, and what evil consequences result therefrom._ When the discourse had ended, her Grace retired to her apartment and Ulrich to his, for it was their custom, as I have said, to sleep after dinner. Doctor Gerschovius returned home, and the young Prince descended to the gardens with his lute. Now was a fine time for the young knights, for they had been sadly disturbed in their carouse by that godly prophesying of the doctor's, and they now returned to their own quarter to finish it, headed by the old treasurer Zitsewitz. Then a merry uproar of laughing, singing, and jesting commenced, and as the door lay wide open as usual, Sidonia heard all from her chamber; so stepping out gently with a piece of bread in her hand, she tripped along the corridor past their door. No sooner was she perceived than a loud storm of cheers greeted her, which she returned with smiles and bows, and then danced down the steps to the courtyard. Several rose up to pursue her, amongst whom Wedig and Appelmann were the most eager. But they were too late, and saw nothing but the tail of her dress as she flew round the corner into the second court. Just then an old laundress, bringing linen to the castle for her Highness, passed by, and told the young men that the young lady had been feeding the tame stag with bread, and then jumped on its back while she held the horns, and that the animal had immediately galloped off like lightning into the second court; so that the young knights and squires rushed instantly after her, fearing that some accident might happen, and presently they heard her scream twice. Appelmann was the first to reach the outer court, and there beheld poor Sidonia in a sad condition, for the stag had flung her off. Fortunately it was on a heap of soft clay, and there she lay in a dead faint. Had the stag thrown her but a few steps further, against the manger for the knights' horses, she must have been killed. But Satan had not yet done with her, and therefore, no doubt, prepared this soft pillow for her head. When Appelmann saw that she was quite insensible, he kneeled down and kissed first her little feet, then her white hands, and at last her lips, while she lay at the time as still as death, poor thing. Just then Wedig came up in a great passion; for the castellan's son, who was playing ball, had flung the ball right between his legs, out of tricks, as he was running by, and nearly threw him down, whereupon Wedig seized hold of the urchin by his thick hair to punish him, for all the young knights were laughing at his discomfiture; but the boy bit him in the hip, and then sprang into his father's house, and shut the door. How little do we know what will happen! It was this bite which caused Wedig's lamentable death a little after. But if he was angry before, what was his rage now when he beheld the equerry, Appelmann, kissing the insensible maiden. "How now, peasant," he cried, "what means this boldness? How dare this tailor's son treat a castle and land dowered maiden in such a way? Are noble ladies made for his kisses?" And he draws his poignard to rush upon Appelmann, who draws forth his in return, and now assuredly there would have been murder done, if Sidonia had not just then opened her eyes, and starting up in amazement prayed them for her sake to keep quiet. She had been quite insensible, and knew nothing at all of what had happened. The old treasurer, with the other young knights, came up now, and strove to make peace between the two rivals, holding them apart by force; but nothing could calm the jealous Wedig, who still cried, "Let me avenge Sidonia!--let me avenge Sidonia!" So that Prince Ernest, hearing the tumult in the garden, ran with his lute in his hand to see what had happened. When they told him, he grew as pale as a corpse that such an indignity should have been offered to Sidonia, and reprimanded his equerry severely, but prayed that all would keep quiet now, as otherwise the Duchess and the Lord Chamberlain would certainly be awakened out of their after-dinner sleep, and then what an afternoon they would all have. This calmed every one, except the jealous Wedig, who, having drunk deeply, cried out still louder than before, "Let me go. I will give my life for the beautiful Sidonia. I will avenge the insolence of this peasant knave!" When Sidonia observed all this, she felt quite certain that a terrible storm was brewing for all of them, and so she ran to shelter herself through the first open door that came in her way, and up into the second corridor; but further adventures awaited her here, for not being acquainted with this part of the castle, she ran direct into an old lumber-room, where she found, to her great surprise, a young man dressed in rusty armour, and wearing a helmet with a serpent crest upon his head. This was Hans von Marintzky, whose brain Sidonia had turned by reading the Amadis with him in the castle gardens, and as she had often sighed, and said that she, too, could have loved the serpent knight, the poor love-stricken Hans, taking this for a favourable sign, determined to disguise himself as described in the romance, and thus secure her love. So when her beautiful face appeared at the door, Hans screamed for joy, like a young calf, and falling on one knee, exclaimed--"Adored Princess, your serpent knight is here to claim your love, and tender his hand to you in betrothal, for no other wife do I desire but thee; and if the Princess Rosaliana herself were here to offer me her love, I would strike her on the face." Sidonia was rather thunderstruck, as one may suppose, and retreated a few steps, saying, "Stand up, dear youth; what ails you?" "So I am dear to you," he cried, still kneeling; "I am then really dear to you, adored Princess? Ah! I hope to be yet dearer when I make you my spouse." Sidonia had not foreseen this termination to their romance reading, but she suppressed her laughter, remembering how she had lost her lover Uckermann by showing scorn; so she drew herself up with dignity, and said, with as grave a face as a chief mourner-- "If you will not rise, sir knight, I must complain to her Highness; for I cannot be your spouse, seeing that I have resolved never to marry." (Ah! how willingly, how willingly you would have taken any husband half a year after.) "But if you will do me a service, brave knight, run instantly to the court, where Wedig and Appelmann are going to murder each other, and separate them, or my gracious lady and old Ulrich will awake, and then we shall all be punished." The poor fool jumped up instantly, and exclaiming, "Death for my adored princess!" he sprung down the steps, though rather awkwardly, not being accustomed to the greaves; and rushing into the middle of the crowd, with his vizor down, and the drawn sword in his hand, he began making passes at every one that came in his way, crying, "Death for my adored princess! Long live the beautiful Sidonia! Knaves, have done with your brawling, or I shall lay you all dead at my feet." At first every one stuck up close by the wall when they saw the madman, to get out of reach of his sword, which he kept whirling about his head; but as soon as he was recognised by his voice, Wedig called out to him-- "Help, brother, help! Will you suffer that this peasant boor Appelmann should kiss the noble Sidonia as she lay there faint and insensible? Yet I saw him do this. So help me, relieve me, that I may brand this low-born knave for his daring." "What? My adored princess!" exclaimed the serpent knight. "This valet, this groom, dared to kiss her? and I would think myself blessed but to touch her shoe-tie;" and he fell furiously upon Appelmann. The uproar was now so great that it might have aroused the Duchess and Ulrich even from their last sleep, had they been in the castle. But, fortunately, some time before the riot began, both had gone out by the little private gate, to attend afternoon service at St. Peter's Church, in the town. For the archdeacon was sick, and Doctor Gerschovius was obliged to take his place there. No one, therefore, was left in the castle to give orders or hold command; even the castellan had gone to hear service; and no one minded Prince Ernest, he was so young, besides being under tutelage; and as to old Zitsewitz, he was as bad as the worst of them himself. The Prince threatened to have the castle bells rung if they were not quiet; and the uproar had indeed partially subsided just at the moment the serpent knight fell upon Appelmann. The Prince then ordered his equerry to leave the place instantly, under pain of his severe displeasure, for he saw that both had drunk rather deeply. So Appelmann turned to depart as the Prince commanded, but Wedig, who had been relieved by Hans the serpent, sprung after him with his dagger, limping though, for the bite in his hip made him stiff. Appelmann darted through the little water-gate and over the bridge; the other pursued him; and Appelmann, seeing that he was foaming with rage, jumped over the rails into a boat. Wedig attempted to do the same, but being stiff from the bite, missed the boat, and came down plump into the water. As he could not swim, the current carried him rapidly down the stream before the others had time to come up; but he was still conscious, and called to Hans, "Comrade, save me!" So Hans, forgetting his heavy cuirass, plunged in directly, and soon reached the drowning man. Wedig, however, in his death-struggles, seized hold of him with such force that they both instantly disappeared. Then every one sprang to the boats to try and save them; but being Sunday, the boats were all moored, so that by the time they were unfastened it was too late, and the two unfortunate young men had sunk for ever. What calamities may be caused by the levity and self-will of a beautiful woman! From the time of Helen of Troy up to the present moment, the world has known this well; but, alas! this was but the beginning of that tragedy which Sidonia played in Pomerania, as that other wanton did in Phrygia. Let us hear the conclusion, however. Prince Ernest, now being truly alarmed, despatched a messenger to the church for her Highness; but as Doctor Gerschovius had not yet ended his exordium, her Grace would by no means be disturbed, and desired the messenger to go to Ulrich, who no sooner heard the tidings than he rushed down to the water-gate. There he found a great crowd assembled, all eagerly trying, with poles and hooks, to fish out the bodies of the two young men; and one fellow even had tied a piece of barley bread to a rope, and flung it into the water--as the superstition goes that it will follow a corpse in the stream, and point to where it lies. And the women and children were weeping and lamenting on the bridge; but the old knight pushed them all aside with his elbows, and cried--"Thousand devils! what are ye all at here?" Every one was silent, for the young men had agreed not to betray Sidonia. Then Ulrich asked the Prince, who replied, that Marintzky, having put on some old armour to frighten the others, as he believed, they pursued him in fun over the bridge, and he and another fell over into the water. This was all he knew of the matter, for he was playing on the lute in the garden when the tumult began. "Thousand devils!" cries Ulrich; "I cannot turn my back a moment but there must be a riot amongst the young fellows. Listen! young lord--when it comes to your turn to rule land and people, I counsel you, send all the young fellows to the devil. Away with them! they are a vain and dissolute crew. Get up the bodies, if you can; but, for my part, I would care little if a few more were baptized in the same way. Speak! some of you: who commenced this tavern broil? Speak! I must have an answer." This adjuration had its effect, for a man answered--"Sidonia made the young men mad, and so it all happened." It was her own cousin, Marcus Bork, who spoke, for which reason Sidonia never could endure him afterwards, and finally destroyed him, as shall be related in due time. When Ulrich found that Sidonia was the cause of all, he raged with fury, and commanded them to tell him all. When Marcus had related the whole affair, he swore by the seven thousand devils that he would make her remember it, and that he would instantly go up to her chamber. But Prince Ernest stepped before him, saying, "Lord Ulrich, I have made you a promise--you must now make one to me: it is to leave this maiden in peace; she is not to blame for what has happened." But Ulrich would not listen to him. "Then I withdraw my promise," said the Prince. "Now act as you think proper." "Thousand devils! she had better give up that game," exclaimed Ulrich. However, he consented to leave her undisturbed, and departed with vehement imprecations on her head, just as the Duchess returned from church, and was seen advancing towards the crowd. CHAPTER IX. _How Sidonia makes the young Prince break his word--Item, how Clara von Dewitz in vain tries to turn her from her evil ways._ It may be easily conjectured what a passion her Grace fell into when the whole story was made known to her, and how she stormed against Sidonia. At last she entered the castle; but Prince Ernest, rightly suspecting her object, slipped up to the corridor, and met her just as she had reached Sidonia's chamber. Here he took her hand, kissed it, and prayed her not to disgrace the young maiden, for that she was innocent of all the evil that had happened. But she pushed him away, exclaiming--"Thou disobedient son, have I not heard of thy gallantries with this girl, whom Satan himself has sent into my royal house? Shame on thee! One of thy noble station to take the part of a murderess!" "But you have judged harshly, my mother. I never made love to the maiden. Leave her in peace, and do not make matters worse, or all the young nobles will fight to the death for her." "Ay, and thou, witless boy, the first of all. Oh, that my beloved spouse, Philippus Primus, could rise from his grave--what would he say to his lost son, who, like the prodigal in Scripture, loves strange women and keeps company with brawlers!" (Weeping.) "Who has said that I am a lost son?" "Doctor Gerschovius and Ulrich both say it." "Then I shall run the priest through the body, and challenge the knight to mortal combat, unless they both retract their words." "No! stay, my son," said the Duchess; "I must have mistaken what they said. Stay, I command you!" "Never! Unless Sidonia be left in peace, such deeds will be done to-day that all Pomerania will ring with them for years." In short, the end of the controversy was, that the Duchess at last promised to leave Sidonia unmolested; and then retired to her chamber much disturbed, where she was soon heard singing the 109th psalm, with a loud voice, accompanied by the little spindle clock. Sidonia, who was hiding in her room, soon heard of all that had happened, through the Duchess's maid, whom she kept in pay;--indeed, all the servants were her sworn friends, in consequence of the liberal largess she gave them; and even the young lords and knights were more distractedly in love with her than ever after the occurrences of the day, for her cunning turned everything to profit. So next morning, having heard that Prince Ernest was going to Eldena to receive the dues, she watched for him, probably through the key-hole, knowing he must pass her door. Accordingly, just as he went by, she opened it, and presented herself to his eyes dressed in unusual elegance and coquetry, and wearing a short robe which showed her pretty little sandals. The Prince, when he saw the short robe, and that she looked so beautiful, blushed, and passed on quickly, turning away his head, for he remembered the promise he had given to Ulrich, and was afraid to trust himself near her. But Sidonia stepped before him, and flinging herself at his feet, began to weep, murmuring, "Gracious Prince and Lord, accept my gratitude, for you alone have saved me, a poor young maiden, from destruction." "Stand up, dear lady, stand up." "Never until my tears fall upon your feet." And then she kissed his yellow silk hose ardently, continuing, "What would have become of me, a helpless, forlorn orphan, without your protection?" Here the young Prince could no longer restrain his emotions; if he had pledged his word to the whole world, even to the great God Himself, he must have broken it. So he raised her up and kissed her, which she did not resist; only sighed, "Ah! if any one saw us now, we would both be lost." But this did not restrain him, and he kissed her again and again, and pressed her to his heart, when she trembled, and murmured scarcely audibly, "Oh! why do I love you so! Leave me, my lord, leave me; I am miserable enough." "Do you then love me, Sidonia? Oh! let me hear you say it once more. You love me, enchanting Sidonia!" "Alas!" she whispered, while her whole frame trembled, "what have I foolishly said? Oh! I am so unhappy." "Sidonia! tell me once again you love me. I cannot credit my happiness, for you are even more gracious with the young nobles than with me, and often have you martyred my heart with jealousy." "Yes; I am courteous to them all, for so my father taught me, and said it was safer for a maiden so to be--but----" "But what? Speak on." "Alas!" and here she covered her face with her hands; but Prince Ernest pressed her to his heart, and kissed her, asking her again if she really loved him; and she murmured a faint "yes;" then as if the shame of such a confession had killed her, she tore herself from his arms, and sprang into her chamber. So the young Prince pursued his way to Eldena, but took so little heed about the dues that Ulrich shook his head over the receipts for half a year after. When mid-day came, and the band struck up for dinner, Sidonia was prepared for a similar scene with the young knights, and, as she passed along the corridor, she gave them her white hand to kiss, glittering with diamonds, thanking them all for not having betrayed her, and praying them to keep her still in their favour, whereat they were all wild with ecstasy; but old Zitsewitz, not content with her hand, entreated for a kiss on her sweet ruby lips, which she granted, to the rage and jealousy of all the others, while he exclaimed, "O Sidonia, thou canst turn even an old man into a fool!" And his words came true; for in the evening a dispute arose as to which of them Sidonia liked best, seeing that she uttered the same sweet things to all; and to settle it, five of them, along with the old fool Zitsewitz, went to Sidonia's room, and each in turn asked her hand in marriage; but she gave them all the same answer--that she had no idea then of marriage, she was but a young, silly creature, and would not know her own mind for ten years to come. One good resulted from Sidonia's ride upon the stag: her promenades were forbidden, and she was restricted henceforth entirely to the women's quarter of the castle. Her Grace and she had frequent altercations; but with Clara she kept upon good terms, as the maiden was of so excellent and mild a disposition. This peace, however, was destined soon to be broken; for though her Grace was silent in the presence of Sidonia, yet she never ceased complaining in private to the maids of honour of this artful wench, who had dared to throw her eyes upon Prince Ernest. So at length they asked why her Highness did not dismiss the girl from her service. "That must be done," she replied, "and without delay. For that purpose, indeed, I have written to Duke Barnim, and also to the father of the girl, at Stramehl, acquainting them with my intention." Clara now gently remonstrated, saying that a little Christian instruction might yet do much for the poor young sinner, and that if she did not become good and virtuous under the care of her Grace, where else could she hope to have her changed? "I have tried all Christian means," said her Grace, "but in vain. The ears of the wicked are closed to the Word of God." "But let her Grace recollect that this poor sinner was endowed with extraordinary beauty, and therefore it was no fault of hers if the young men all grew deranged for love of her." Here a violent tumult, and much scornful laughing, arose amongst the other maids of honour; and one Anna Lepels exclaimed--"I cannot imagine in what Sidonia's wonderful beauty consists. When she flatters the young men, and makes free with them as they are passing to dinner, what marvel if they all run after her? Any girl might have as many lovers if she chose to adopt such manners." Clara made no reply, but turning to her Grace, said with her permission she would leave her spinning for a while, to visit Sidonia in her room, who perhaps would hearken to her advice, as she meant kindly to her. "You may go," said her Grace; "but what do you mean to do? I tell you, advice is thrown away on her." "Then I will threaten her with the Catechism of Doctor Gerschovius, which she must repeat on Sunday, for I know that she is greatly afraid of that and the clergyman." "And you think you will frighten her into giving up running after the young men?" "Oh yes, if I tell her that she will be publicly reprimanded unless she can say it perfectly." So her Grace allowed her to depart, but with something of a weak faith. Although Sidonia had absented herself from the spinning, on the pretext of learning the catechism quietly in her own room, yet, when Clara entered, no one was there except the maid, who sat upon the floor at her work. She knew nothing about the young lady; but as she heard a great deal of laughter and merriment in the court beneath, it was likely Sidonia was not far off. On stepping to the window, Clara indeed beheld Sidonia. In the middle of the court was a large horse-pond built round with stones, to which the water was conducted by metal pipes communicating with the river Peene. In the middle of the pond was a small island, upon which a bear was kept chained. A plank was now thrown across the pond to the island; upon this Sidonia was standing feeding the bear with bread, which Appelmann, who stood beside her, first dipped into a can of syrup, and several of the young squires stood round them laughing and jesting. The idle young pages were wont to take great delight in shooting at the bear with blunt arrows, and when it growled and snarled, then they would calm it again by throwing over bits of bread steeped in honey or syrup. So Sidonia, waiting to see the fun, had got upon the plank ready to give the bread just as the bear had got to the highest pitch of irritation, when he would suddenly change his growling into another sort of speech after his fashion. All this amused Sidonia mightily, and she laughed and clapped her hands with delight. When the modest Clara beheld all this, and how Sidonia danced up and down on the plank, while the water splashed over her robe, she called to her--"Dear Lady Sidonia, come hither: I have somewhat to tell thee." But she answered tartly--"Dear Lady Clara, keep it then: I am too young to be told everything." And she danced up and down on the plank as before. After many vain entreaties, Clara had at length to descend and seize the wild bird by the wing--I mean thereby the arm--and carry her off to the castle. The young men would have followed, but they were engaged to attend his Highness on a fishing excursion that afternoon, and were obliged to go and see after their nets and tackle. So the two maidens could walk up and down the corridor undisturbed; and Clara asked if she had yet learned the catechism. _Illa_.--"No; I have no wish to learn it." _Hæc_.--"But if the priest has to reprimand you publicly from the pulpit?" _Illa_.--"I counsel him not to do it." _Hæc_.--"Why, what would you do to him?" _Illa_.--"He will find that out." _Hæc_.--"Dear Sidonia, I wish you well; and therefore let me tell you that not only the priest, but our gracious lady, and all the noble maidens of the court, are sad and displeased that you should make so free with the young men, and entice them to follow you, as I have seen but too often myself. Do it not, dear Sidonia I mean well by you;--do it not. It will injure your reputation." _Illa_.--"Ha! you are jealous now, you little pious housesparrow, that the young men do not run after you too. How can I help it?" _Hæc_.--"Every maiden can help it; were she as beautiful as could be seen, she can help it. Leave off, Sidonia, or evil will come of it, particularly as her Grace has heard that you are seeking to entice our young lord the Prince. See, I tell you the pure truth, that it may turn you from your light courses. Tell me, what can you mean by it?--for when noble youths demand your hand in marriage, you reject them, and say you never mean to marry. Can you think that our gracious Prince, a son of Pomerania, will make thee his duchess--thou who art only a common nobleman's daughter?" _Illa_.--"A common nobleman's daughter!--that is good from the peasant-girl. You are common enough and low enough, I warrant; but my blood is as old as that of the Dukes of Pomerania, and besides, I am a castle and land dowered maiden. But who are you? who are you? Your forefathers were hunted out of Mecklenburg, and only got footing here in Pomerania out of charity." _Hæc_.--"Do not be angry, dear lady--you say true; yet I must add that my forebears were once Counts in Mecklenburg, and from their loyalty to the Dukes of Pomerania were given possessions here in Daber, where they have been lords of castles and lands for two hundred and fifty years. Yet I will confess that your race is nobler than mine; but, dear child, I make no boast of my ancestry, nor is it fitting for either of us to do so. The right royal Prince, who is given as an example and model to us all--who is Lord, not over castle and land, but of the heavens and the earth--the Saviour, Jesus Christ--He took no account of His arms or His ancestry, though the whole starry universe was His banner. He was as humble to the little child as to the learned doctors in the temple--to the chiefs among the people, as to the trembling sinner and the blind beggar Bartimæus. Let us take, then, this Prince for our example, and mind our life long what He says--'Come unto Me, and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart.' Will you not learn of Him, dear lady? I will, if God give me grace." And she extended her hand to Sidonia, who dashed it away, crying--"Stuff! nonsense! you have learned all this twaddle from the priest, who, I know, is nephew to the shoe-maker in Daber, and therefore hates any one who is above him in rank." Clara was about to reply mildly; but they happened now to be standing close to the public flight of steps, and a peasant-girl ran up when she saw them, and flung herself at Clara's feet, entreating the young lady to save her, for she had run away from Daber, where they were going to burn her as a witch. The pious Clara recoiled in horror, and desiring her to rise, said--"Art thou Anne Wolde, some time keeper of the swine to my father? How fares it with my dearest father and my mother?" They were well when she ran away, but she had been wandering now for fourteen days on the road, living upon roots and wild berries, or what the herds gave her out of their knapsacks for charity. _Hæc_.--"What crime wast thou suspected of, girl, to be condemned to so terrible a death?" _Illa_.--"She had a lover named Albert, who followed her everywhere, but as she would not listen to him he hated her, and pretended that she had given him a love-drink." Here Sidonia laughed aloud, and asked if she knew how to brew the love-drink? _Illa_.--"Yes; she learned from her elder sister how to make it, but had never tried it with any one, and was perfectly innocent of all they charged her with." Here Clara shook her head, and wished to get rid of the witch-girl; for she thought, truly if Sidonia learns the brewing secret, she will poison and destroy the whole castleful, and we shall have the devil bodily with us in earnest. So she pushed away the girl, who still clung to her, weeping and lamenting. Hereupon Sidonia grew quite grave and pious all of a sudden, and said-- "See the hypocrite she is! She first sets before me the example of Christ, and then treats this poor sinner with nothing but cross thorns! Has not Christ said, 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy'? But only see how this bigot can have Christ on her tongue, but not in her heart!" The pious Clara grew quite ashamed at such talk, and raising up the wretch who had again fallen on her knees, said-- "Well, thou mayest remain; so get thee to my maid, and she will give thee food. I shall also write to my father for thy pardon, and meanwhile ask leave from her Grace to allow thee to remain here until it arrives; but if thou art guilty, I cannot promise thee my protection any longer, and thou wilt be burned here, in place of at Daber." So the witch-girl was content, and importuned them no further. CHAPTER X. _How Sidonia Wished to learn the mystery of love-potions, but is hindered by Clara and the young Prince._ When Prince Ernest returned home after an absence of some days, Sidonia had changed her tactics, for now she never lifted up her eyes when they met, but passed on blushing and confused, and in place of speaking, as formerly, only sighed. This turned his head completely, and sent the blood so quickly through his veins that he found it a hard matter to conceal his feelings any longer. For this reason he determined to visit Sidonia in her own room as soon as he could hit upon a favourable opportunity, and bring her then a beautiful lute, inlaid with gold and silver, which he had purchased for her at Grypswald. Now, it happened soon after, that her Grace and Clara went away one day into the town to purchase a jerkin for the little Prince Casimir, who accompanied them. Sidonia was immediately informed of their absence, and sought out Clara's maid without delay, put a piece of gold into her hand, and said-- "Send the strange girl from Daber to my room for a few minutes; she can perhaps give me some tidings of my dear father and family, for Daber is only a little way from Stramehl. But mind," she added, "keep this visit a secret, as well from her Grace as from your mistress Clara; otherwise we shall all be scolded." So the maid very willingly complied, and brought the witch-girl directly to Sidonia's little apartment, and then ran to Clara's room to watch for the return of her Grace in time to give notice. The witch-girl was quite confounded (as she afterwards confessed upon the rack) when Sidonia began-- "Thou knowest, Anne, that my entreaties alone obtained thee a shelter here, for I pitied thee from the first; and from what I hear, it is certain that her Grace means to deal no better with thee than thy judges at Daber, therefore my advice is--escape if thou canst." _Illa_, weeping.--"Where can I go? I shall die of hunger, or they will arrest me again as an evil-minded witch, and carry me back to Daber." "But do not tell them, stupid goose, that thou hast come from Daber." _Illa_.--"But what could she say? Besides, she had no money, and so must be lost and ruined for ever." "Well, I shall give thee gold enough to get thee through all dangers. I give it, mind, out of pure Christian charity; but now tell me honestly--canst thou really make a love-drink?" _Illa_.--"Yes; her sister had taught her." "Is the drink of equal power for men and women?" _Illa_.--"Yes; without doubt, it would make either mad with love." "Has it ever an injurious effect upon them? does it take away their strength?" _Illa_.--"Yes; they fall down like flies. Some lose their memory, others become blind or lame." "Has she ever tried its effects upon any one herself?" _Illa_.--"But will the lady betray me?" "Out, fool! When I have promised thee gold enough to insure thy escape! I betray thee!" _Illa_.--"Then she will tell the lady the whole truth. She did give a love-drink to Albert, because he grew cross, and spent the nights away from her, and complained if she idled a little, so that her master beat her. Therefore she determined to punish him, and a rash came out over his whole body, so that he could neither sit nor lie for six weeks, and at night he had to be tied to a post with a hand-towel; but all this time his love for her grew so burning, that although he had previously hated and beaten her, yet now if she only brought him a drink of cold water, for which he was always screaming, he would kiss her hands and feet even though she spat in his face, and he would certainly have died if his relations had not found out an old woman who unbewitched him; whereupon his love came to an end, and he informed against her." That must be a wonderful drink. Would the girl teach her how to brew it? But just then our Lord God sent yet another warning to Sidonia, through His angel, to turn her from her villainy, for as the girl was going to answer, a knock was heard at the chamber-door. They both grew as white as chalk; but Sidonia bethought herself of a hiding-place, and bid the other creep under the bed while she went to the door to see who knocked, and as she opened it, so there stood Prince Ernest bodily before her eyes, with the lute in his hand. "Ah, gracious Prince, what brings you here? I pray your Highness, for the sake of God, to leave me. What would be said if any one saw you here?" "But who is to see us, my beautiful maiden? My gracious mother has gone out to drive; and now, just look at this lute that I have purchased for you in Grypswald. Will it please thee, sweet one?" _Illa_.--"Alas, gracious Prince, of what use will it be to me, when I have no one to teach me how to play?" "I will teach thee, oh, how willingly, but--thou knowest what I would say." _Illa_.--"No, no, I dare not learn from your Highness. Now go, and do not make me more miserable." "What makes thee miserable, enchanting Sidonia?" _Illa_.--"Ah, if your Highness could know how this heart burns within me like a fire! What will become of me? Would that I were dead--oh, I am a miserable maiden! If your Highness were but a simple noble, then I might hope--but now. Woe is me! I must go! Yes, I must go!" "Why must thou go, my own sweet darling? and why dost thou wish me to be only a simple noble? Canst thou not love a duke better than a noble?" _Illa_.--"Gracious Prince, what is a poor count's daughter to your princely Highness? and would her Grace ever consent? Ah no, I must go--I must go!" Here she sobbed so violently, and covered her eyes with her hands, that the young Duke could no longer restrain his feelings. He seized her passionately in his arms, and was kissing away the crocodile tears, when lo, another knock came to the door, and Sidonia grew paler even than the first time, for there was no place to hide the Prince in, as the witch-wench was already under the bed, and not even quite hidden, for some of her red petticoat was visible round the post, and one could easily see by the way it moved that some living body was in it, for the girl was trembling with the most horrible fear and fright. But the Prince was too absorbed in love either to notice all this or to mind the knock at the door. Sidonia, however, knew well that it was over with them now, and she pushed away the young Prince, just as the door opened and Clara entered, who grew quite pale, and clasped her hands together when she saw the Duke and Sidonia together; then the tears fell fast from her eyes, and she could utter nothing but--"Ah, my gracious Prince--my poor innocent Prince--what has brought you here?" but neither of them spoke a word. "You are lost," exclaimed Clara; "the Duchess is coming up the corridor, and has just stopped to look at her pet cat and the kittens there by the page's room. Hasten, young Prince--hasten to meet her before she comes a step further." So the young lord darted out of the chamber, and found his gracious mother still examining her kittens, whereupon he prayed her then to descend with him to the courtyard and look also at his fine hounds, to which she consented. The moment Prince Ernest disappeared, Clara commenced upbraiding Sidonia for her evil ways, which could not be any longer denied--for had she not seen all with her own eyes?--and she now conjured her by the living God to turn away from the young Duke, and select some noble of her own rank as her husband. This could easily be done when so many loved her; but as to the Prince, as long as her Grace and Ulrich lived, or even one single branch of the princely house of Pomerania, this marriage would never be permitted, let the young lord do or say what he chose. "Ah, thou pious old priest in petticoats," exclaimed Sidonia, "who told thee I wanted to marry the Prince? How can I help if he chooses to come in here and, though I weep and resist, takes me in his arms and kisses me? So leave off thy preaching, and tell me rather what brings thee spying to my room?" Then Clara remembered what had really been her errand, although the love-scene had put everything else out of her head until now, and replied--"I was seeking the witch-girl from Daber, for when I went out with her Grace, I left her in charge of my maid; but as we returned home by the little garden gate, I slipped up to my room by the private stairs without any one seeing me, and found my maid looking out of the window, but no girl was to be seen. When I asked what had become of her, the maid answered she knew not, the girl must have slipped away while her back was turned, so I came here to ask if you had seen the impudent hussy, for I fear if her wings are not clipped she will do harm to some one." Here Sidonia grew quite indignant--what could she know of a vile witch-wench? Besides, she had not been ten minutes there in the room. "But perchance the bird has found herself a nest somewhere," said Clara, looking towards the bed; "methinks, indeed, I see some of the feathers, for surely a red gown never trembled that way under a bed unless there was something living inside of it." When the witch-girl heard this her fright increased, so that, to make matters worse, she pulled her gown in under the bed, upon which Clara kneeled down, lifted the coverlet, and found the owl in its nest. Now she had to creep out weeping and howling, and promised to tell everything. But Sidonia gave her a look which she understood well, and therefore when she stood up straight by the bed, begged piteously that the Lady Clara would not scold her for having tried to escape, because she herself had threatened her with being burned there as well as at Daber, so not knowing where to hide, and seeing the Lady Sidonia's door open, she crept in there and got under the bed, intending to wait till night came and then ask her aid in effecting her flight, for the Lady Sidonia was the only one in the castle who had shown her Christian compassion. Hereat Sidonia rose up as if in great rage, and said, "Ha! thou impudent wench, how darest thou reckon on my protection!" and seizing her by the hand--in which, however, she pressed a piece of gold--pushed her violently out of the door. Now Clara, thinking that this was the whole truth, fell weeping upon Sidonia's neck, and asked forgiveness for her suspicions. "There, that will do," said Sidonia,--"that will do, old preacher; only be more cautious in future. What! am I to poke under my bed to see if any one is hiding there? You may go, for I suppose you have often hidden a lover there, your eyes turn to it so naturally." As Clara grew red with shame, Sidonia drew the witch-girl again into the room, and giving her a box on the ear that made her teeth chatter--"Now, confess," said she, "what I said to the young lord without knowing that you were listening." So the poor girl answered weeping, "Nothing but what was good did you say to him, namely, that he should go away; and then you pushed him so violently when he attempted to kiss you, that he stumbled over against the bed." "See, now, my pious preacher," said Sidonia, "this girl confirms exactly what I told you; so now go along with you, you hussy, or mayhap you will come off no better than she has done." Hereupon Clara went away humbly with the witch-girl to her own room, and never uttered another word. Nevertheless the affair did not seem quite satisfactory to her yet. So she conferred with her betrothed, Marcus Bork, on the subject. For when he carried books for her Highness from the ducal library, it was his custom to scrape with his feet in a peculiar manner as he passed Clara's door; then she knew who it was, and opened it. And as her maid was present, they conversed together in the Italian tongue; for they were both learned, not only in God's Word, but in all other knowledge, so that people talk about them yet in Pomeranian land for these things. Clara therefore told him the whole affair in Italian, before her maid and the witch-girl--of the visit of the young Prince, and how the girl was lying hid under the bed, and asked him was it not likely that Sidonia had brought her there to teach her how to brew the love-drink, with which she would then have bewitched the Prince and all the men-folk in the castle, and ought she not to warn her Grace of the danger. But Marcus answered, that if the witch-girl had been at the castle weeks before, he might have supposed that Sidonia had received the secret of the love-potion from her, since every man, old and young, was mad for love of her--but now he must needs confess that Sidonia's eyes and deceiving mouth were magic sufficient; and that it was not likely she would bring a vile damsel to her room to teach her that which she knew already so perfectly. So he thought it better not to tell her Highness anything on the subject. Besides, if the wench were examined, who knows what she might tell of Sidonia and the young lord that would bring shame on the princely house of Wolgast, since she had been hid under the bed all the time, and perhaps only kept silence through fear. It were well therefore on every account not to let the matter get wind, and to shut up the wench safely in the witches' tower until the answer came from Daber. If she were pronounced really guilty, it would then be time enough to question her on the rack about the love-drink and the conversation between the young lord and Sidonia. So this course was agreed on. It is, however, much to be regretted that Clara did not follow the promptings of her good angel, and tell all to her Grace and old Ulrich; for then much misfortune and scandal would have been spared to the whole Pomeranian land. But she followed her bride-groom's advice, and kept all secret. The witch-girl, however, was locked up that very day in the witches' tower, to guard against future evil. CHAPTER XI. _How Sidonia repeated the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, and how she whipped the young Casimir, out of pure evil-mindedness._ The Sunday came at last when Sidonia was to be examined publicly in the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius. Her Grace was filled with anxiety to see how all would terminate, for every one suspected (as indeed was the case) that not one word of it would she be able to repeat. So the church was crowded, and all the young men attended without exception, knowing what was to go forward, and fearing for Sidonia, because this Dr. Gerschovius was a stern, harsh man; but she herself seemed to care little about the matter, for she entered her Grace's closet as usual (which was right opposite the pulpit), and threw herself carelessly into a corner. However, when the doctor entered the pulpit she became more grave, and finally, when his discourse was drawing near to the close, she rose up quietly and glided out of the closet, intending to descend to the gardens. Her Grace did not perceive her movement, in consequence of the hat with the heron's plume which she wore, for the feathers drooped down at the side next Sidonia, and the other ladies were too much alarmed to venture to draw her attention to the circumstance. But the priest from the pulpit saw her well, and called out--"Maiden! maiden! Whither go you? Remember ye have to repeat your catechism!" Then Sidonia grew quite pale, for her Grace and all the congregation fixed their eyes on her. So when she felt quite conscious that she was looking pale, she said, "You see from my face that I am not well; but if I get better, doubt not but that I shall return immediately." Here all the maids of honour put up their kerchiefs to hide their laughter, and the young nobles did the same. So she went away; but they might wait long enough, I think, for her to come back. In vain her Grace watched until the priest left the pulpit, and then sent two of her ladies to look for the hypocrite; but they returned declaring that she was nowhere to be seen. _Summa_.--The whole service was ended, and her Grace looked as angry as the doctor; and when the organ had ceased, and the people were beginning to depart, she called out from her closet-- "Let every one come this way, and accompany me to Sidonia's apartment. There I shall make her repeat the catechism before ye all. Messengers shall be despatched in all directions until they find out her hiding-place." This pleased the doctor and Ulrich well. So they all proceeded to Sidonia's little room; for there she was, to their great surprise, seated upon a chair with a smelling-bottle in her hand. Whereupon her Grace demanded what ailed her, and why she had not stayed to repeat the catechism. _Illa_.--"Ah! she was so weak, she would certainly have fainted, if she had not descended to the garden for a little fresh air. She was so distressed that her Grace had been troubled sending for her, of which she was not aware until now." "Are you better now?" asked her Grace. _Illa_.--"Rather better. The fresh air had done her good." "Then," quoth her Grace, "you shall recite the catechism here for the doctor; for, in truth, Christianity is as necessary to you as water to a fish." The doctor now cleared his throat to begin; but she stopped him pertly, saying-- "I do not choose to say my catechism here in my room, like a little child. Grown-up maidens are always heard in the church." Howbeit, her Grace motioned to him not to heed her. So to his first question she replied rather snappishly, "You have your answer already." No wonder the priest grew black with rage. But seeing a book lying open on a little table beside her bed, and thinking it was the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius which she had been studying, he stepped over to look. But judge his horror when he found that it was a volume of the _Amadis de Gaul_, and was lying open at the eighth chapter, where he read--"How the Prince Amadis de Gaul loved the Princess Rosaliana, and was beloved in return, and how they both attained to the accomplishment of their desires." He dashed the book to the ground furiously, stamped upon it, and cried-- "So, thou wanton, this is thy Bible and thy catechism! Here thou learnest how to make young men mad! Who gave thee this infamous book? Speak! Who gave it to thee?" So Sidonia looked up timidly, and said, weeping, "It was his Highness Duke Barnim who gave it to her, and told her it was a merry book, and good against low spirits." Here the Duchess, who had lifted up her hand to give her a box on the ear, let it fall again with a deep sigh when she heard of the old Prince having given her such an infamous book, and lamented loudly, crying-- "Who will free me from this shameless wanton, who makes all the court mad? Truly says Scripture, 'A beautiful woman without discretion is like a circlet of gold upon a swine's head.' Ah! I know that now. But I trust my messengers will soon return whom I have despatched to Stettin and Stramehl, and then I shall get rid of thee, thou wanton, for which God be thanked for evermore." Then she turned to leave the room with old Ulrich, who only shook his head, but remained as mute as a fish. Doctor Gerschovius, however, stayed behind with Sidonia, in order to exhort her to virtue; but as she only wept and did not seem to hear him, he grew tired, and finally went his way, also with many sighs and uplifting of his hands. A little after, as Sidonia was howling just out of pure ill-temper, for, in my opinion, nothing ailed her, the little Prince Casimir ran in to look for his mamma--she had gone to hear Sidonia her catechism, they told him. "What did he want with his lady mamma?" "His new jerkin hurt him, he wanted her to tie it another way for him; but is it really true, Sidonia, that you do not know your catechism? I can say it quite well. Just come now and hear me say it." It is probable that her Grace and the doctor had devised this plan in order to shame Sidonia, by showing her how even a little child could repeat it; but she took it angrily, and, calling him over, said, "Yes; come--I will hear you your catechism." And as the little boy came up close beside her, she slung him across her knee, pulled down his hose, and--oh, shame!--whipped his Serene Highness upon his princely _podex_, that it would have melted the heart of a stone. How this shows her cruel and evil disposition--to revenge on the child what she had to bear from the mother. Fie on the maiden! And here my gracious Prince will say--"O Theodore, this matter surely might have been passed over, since it brings a disrespect upon my princely house." I answer--"Gracious Lord and Prince, my most humble services are due to your Grace, but truth must be still truth, however it may displease your Highness. Besides, by no other act could I have so well proved the infernal evil in this woman's nature; for if she could dare to lay her godless hand upon one of your illustrious race, then all her future acts are perfectly comprehensible. [Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.--This is true, and therefore I consent to let it remain; and I remember that Prince Casimir told me long afterwards that the scene remained indelibly impressed on his memory. "For," he said, "the wild eyes and the terrible voice of the witch frightened me more even than her cruel hand; as if even there I detected the devil in her, though I was but a little boy at the time."] When the malicious wretch let the boy go, he darted out of the room and ran down the whole corridor, screaming out that he would tell his mamma about Sidonia; but Zitsewitz met him, and having heard the story, the amorous old fool took him up in his arms, and promised him heaps of beautiful things if he would hold his tongue and not say a word more to any one, and that he would give Sidonia a good whipping himself, in return for what she had done to him. So, in short, her Grace never heard of the insult until after Sidonia's departure from court." Had her Highness been in her apartment, she must have heard the child scream; but it so happened that just then she was walking up and down the ducal gardens, whither she had gone to cool her anger. Soon after a stately ship was seen sailing down the river from Penemunde, [Footnote: A town in Pomerania.] which attracted all eyes in the castle, for on the deck stood a noble youth, with a heron's plume waving from his cap, and he held a tame sea-gull upon his hand, which from time to time flew off and dived into the water, bringing up all sorts of fish, great and small, in its beak, with which it immediately flew back to the handsome youth. "Ah!" exclaimed Clara, "there must be the sons of our gracious Princess! for to-morrow is her birthday, and here comes the noble bishop, Johann Frederick of Camyn, and his brother, Duke Bogislaff XIII., to pay their respects to their gracious mother." Her Grace, however, would scarcely credit that the handsome youth who was fishing after so elegant a manner was indeed her own beloved son; but Clara clapped her hands now, crying, "Look! your Grace--look! there is the flag hoisted!" And indeed there fluttered from the mast now the bishop's own arms. So the warder blew his horn, which was answered by the warder of St. Peter's in the town, and the bells in all the towers rang out, and the castellan ordered the cannon in the courtyard to be fired off. Her Grace was now thoroughly convinced, and weeping for joy, ran down to the little water-gate, where old Ulrich already stood waiting to receive the princes. As the vessel approached, however, they discovered that the handsome youth was not the bishop, but Duke Bogislaff, who had been staying on a visit at his brother's court at Camyn, along with several high prelates. The bishop, Johann Frederick, did not accompany him, for he was obliged to remain at home, in order to receive a visit from the Prince of Brandenburg. When the Duke stepped on shore he embraced his weeping mother joyfully, and said he came to offer her his congratulations on her birthday, and that she must not weep but laugh, for there should be a dance in honour of it, and a right merry feast at the castle on the morrow. Then he tumbled out on the bridge all the fish which the bird had caught; and her Grace wondered greatly, and stroked it as it sat upon the shoulder of the Prince. So he asked if the bird pleased her Grace, and when she answered "Yes," he said, "Then, dearest mother, let it be my birthday gift to you. I have trained it myself, and tried it here, as you see, upon the river. So any afternoon that you and your ladies choose to amuse yourselves with a sail, this bird will fish for you as long as you please, while you row down the river." Ah, what a good son was this handsome young Duke!--and when I think that Sidonia murdered them all--all--even this noble Prince, my heart seems to break, and the pen falls from my fingers. [Footnote: Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.--Et quid mihi, misero filio? Domine in manus tuas commando spiritum meum, quia tu me redemisti fide Deus! (And what remains to me, wretched son? Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, Thou God of truth.)--When one thinks that it was the general belief in that age that the whole ducal race had been destroyed and blasted by Sidonia's sorceries, it is impossible not to be affected by these melancholy yet resigned and Christian words of the last orphaned and childless representative of the ancient and illustrious house of Wolgast.] But to continue. The Duchess embraced the fine young Prince, who still continued talking of the dance they must have next day. It was time now for his gracious mother to give up mourning for her deceased lord, he said. But her Grace would not hear of a dance; and replied that she would continue to mourn for her dear lord all the rest of her life, to whom she had been wedded by Doctor Martinus. However, the Duke repeated his entreaties, and all the young nobles added theirs, and finally Prince Ernest besought her Grace not to deny them permission to have a festival on the morrow, as it was to honour her birthday. So she at last consented; but old Ulrich shook his head, and took her Grace aside to warn her of the scandal which would assuredly arise when the young nobles had drunk and grew excited by Sidonia. Hereupon her Grace made answer that she would take care Sidonia should cause no scandal--"As she has refused to learn her catechism, she must not appear at the feast. It will be a fitting punishment to keep her a prisoner for the whole day, and therefore I shall lock her up myself in her own room, and put the key in my pocket." So Ulrich was well pleased, and all separated for the night with much contentment and hopes of enjoyment on the morrow. CHAPTER XII. _Of Appelmann's knavery--Item, how the birthday of her Highness was celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the uproar caused thereby._ Before I proceed further, it will be necessary to state what happened a few days before concerning Prince Ernest's chief equerry, Johann Appelmann, otherwise many might doubt the facts I shall have to relate, though God knows I speak the pure truth. One came to his lordship the Grand Chamberlain--he was a shoemaker of the town--and complained to him of Appelmann, who had been courting his daughter for a long while, and running after her until finally he had disgraced her in the eyes of the whole town, and brought shame and scandal into his house. So he prayed Lord Ulrich to make the shameless profligate take his daughter to wife, as he had fairly promised her marriage long ago. Now Ulrich had long suspected the knave of bad doings, for many pearls and jewels had lately been missing from her Grace's shabrack and horse-trappings, and the groom, who always laid them on her Grace's white palfrey, knew nothing about them, though he was even put to the torture; but as Appelmann had all these things in his sole keeping, it was natural to think that he was not quite innocent. Besides, three hundred sacks of oats were missing on the new year, and no one knew what had become of them. Therefore Ulrich sent for the cheating rogue, and upbraided him with his profligate courses, also telling him that he must wed the shoemaker's daughter immediately. But the cunning knave knew better, and swore by all the saints that he was innocent, and finally prevailed upon Prince Ernest to intercede for him, so that Ulrich promised to give him a little longer grace, but then assuredly he would bring him to a strict account. And Appelmann drove the Prince that same day to Grypswald, to find out more musicians for the castle band, as the march of Duke Bogislaff the Great was to be played by eighty drums and forty trumpets in the grand ducal hall, to honour the birthday of her Highness. One can imagine what Sidonia felt when the Duchess announced that as she had refused to learn the catechism, and was neither obedient to God nor her Grace, she should remain a strict prisoner in her own room during the festival, as a signal punishment for her ungodly behaviour. But her maid might bring her food of all that she chose from the feast. Sidonia first prayed her Grace to forgive her for the love of God, and she would learn the whole catechism by heart. But as this had no effect, then she wept and lamented loudly, and at length fell down upon her knees before her Grace, who would, however, be neither moved nor persuaded; and when Sidonia threatened at last to leave her room, the Duchess went out, locked the door, and put the key in her pocket. The prisoner howled enough then, I warrant. But what did she do now, the cunning minx? She gave her maid a piece of gold, and told her to go up and down the corridor, crying and wringing her hands, and when any one asked what was the matter, to say, "That her beautiful young lady was dying of grief, because the Duchess had locked her up, like a little school-girl, in her own room, and all for not knowing the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, which indeed was not taught in her part of the country, but another, which she had learned quite well in her childhood. And so for this, her poor young lady was not to be allowed to dance at the festival." The maid was to say all this in particular to Prince Ernest; or if he did not pass through the corridor, she was to stop weeping and groaning at his chamber-door, until he came out to ask what was the matter. The maid followed the instructions right well, and in less than an hour every soul in the castle, down to the cooks and washerwomen, knew what had happened, and everywhere the Duchess went she was assailed by old and young, great and small, with petitions of pardon for Sidonia. Her Grace, however, bid them all be silent, and threatened if they made such shameless requests to forbid the festival altogether. But when Prince Ernest likewise petitioned in her favour, she was angry, and said, "He ought to be ashamed of himself. It was now plain what a fool the girl had made of him. Her maternal heart would break, she knew it would--and this day would be one of sorrow in place of joy to her; all on account of this girl." So the young Prince had to hold his peace for this time; but he sent a message, nevertheless, to Sidonia, telling her not to fret, for that he would take her out of her room and bring her to the dance, let what would happen. Next morning, by break of day, the whole castle and town were alive with preparations for the festival. It was now seven years--that is, since the death of Duke Philip--since any one had danced in the castle except the rats and mice, and even yet the splendour of this festival is talked of in Wolgast; and many of the old people yet living there remember it well, and gave me many curious particulars thereof, which I shall set down here, that it may be known how such affairs were conducted in old time at our ducal courts. In the morning, by ten of the clock, the young princes, nobles, clergy, and the honourable counsellors of the town, assembled in the grand ducal hall, built by Duke Philip after the great fire, and which extended up all through the three stories of the castle. At the upper end of the hall was the grand painted window, sixty feet high, on which was delineated the pilgrimage of Duke Bogislaff the Great to Jerusalem, all painted by Gerard Homer; [Footnote: A Frieslander, and the most celebrated painter on glass of his time.] and round on the walls banners, and shields, and helmets, and cuirasses, while all along each side, four feet from the ground, there were painted on the walls figures of all the animals found in Pomerania: bears, wolves, elks, stags, deer, otters, &c., all exquisitely imitated. When all the lords had assembled, the drums beat and trumpets sounded, whereupon the Pomeranian marshal flung open the great doors of the hall, which were wreathed with flowers from the outside, and the princely widow entered with great pomp, leading the little Casimir by the hand. She was arrayed in the Pomeranian costume--namely, a white silk under-robe, and over it a surcoat of azure velvet, brocaded with silver, and open in front. A long train of white velvet, embroidered in golden laurel wreaths, was supported by twelve pages dressed in black velvet cassocks with Spanish ruffs. Upon her head the Duchess wore a coif of scarlet velvet with small plumes, from which a white veil, spangled with silver stars, hung down to her feet. Round her neck she had a scarlet velvet band, twisted with a gold chain; and from it depended a balsam flask, in the form of a greyhound, which rested on her bosom. As her Serene Highness entered with fresh and blushing cheeks, all bowed low and kissed her hand, glittering with diamonds. Then each offered his congratulations as best he could. Amongst them came Johann Neander, Archdeacon of St. Peter's, who was seeking preferment, considering that his present living was but a poor one; and so he presented her Grace with a printed _tractatum_ dedicated to her Highness, in which the question was discussed whether the ten virgins mentioned in Matt. xxv. were of noble or citizen rank. But Doctor Gerschovius made a mock of him for this afterwards, before the whole table. [Footnote: Over these exegetical disquisitions of a former age we smile, and with reason; but we, pedantic Germans, have carried our modern exegetical mania to such absurd lengths, that we are likely to become as much a laughing-stock to our contemporaries, as well as to posterity, as this Johannes Neander. In fact, our exegetists are mostly pitiful schoolmasters--word-anatomists--and one could as little learn the true spirit of an old classic poet from our pedantic philologists, as the true sense of holy Scripture from our scholastic theologians. What with their grammar twistings, their various readings, their dubious punctuations, their mythical, and who knows what other meanings, their hair-splittings, and prosy vocable tiltings, we find at last that they are willing to teach us everything but that which really concerns us, and, like the Danaides, they let the water of life run through the sieve of their learning. We may apply to them truly that condemnation of our Lord's (Matt, xxiii. 24)--"Ye blind guides; ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel."] Now, when all the congratulations were over, the Duchess asked Prince Ernest if the water-works in the courtyard had been completed, [Footnote: The Prince took much interest in hydraulics, and built a beautiful and costly aqueduct for the town of Wolgast.] and when he answered "Yes," "Then," quoth her Grace, "they shall run with Rostock beer to-day, if it took fifty tuns; for all my people, great and small, shall keep festival to-day; and I have ordered my court baker to give a loaf of bread and a good drink to every one that cometh and asketh. And now, as it is fitting, let us present ourselves in the church." So the bells rung, and the whole procession swept through the corridor and down the great stairs, with drums and trumpets going before. Then followed the marshal with his staff, and the Grand Chamberlain, Ulrich von Schwerin, wearing his beautiful hat (a present from her Highness), looped up with a diamond aigrette, and spangled with little golden stars. Then came the Duchess, supported on each side by the young princes, her sons; and the nobles, knights, pages, and others brought up the rear, according to their rank and dignity. As they passed Sidonia's room, she began to beat the door and cry like a little spoiled child; but no one minded her, and the procession moved on to the courtyard, where the soldatesca fired a salute, not only from their muskets, but also from the great cannon called "the Old Aunt," which gave forth a deep joy-sigh. From all the castle windows hung banners and flags bearing the arms of Pomerania and Saxony, and the pavement was strewed with flowers. As they passed Sidonia's window she opened it, and appeared magnificently attired, and glittering with pearls and diamonds, but also weeping bitterly. At this sight old Ulrich gnashed his teeth for rage, but all the young men, and Prince Ernest in particular, felt their hearts die in them for sorrow. So they passed on through the great north gate out on the castle wall, from whence the whole town and harbour were visible. Here the flags fluttered from the masts and waved from the towers, and the people clapped their hands and cried "Huzza!" (for in truth they had heard about the beer, to my thinking, before the Princess came out upon the walls). _Summa_: There was never seen such joy; and after having service in church, they all returned to the castle in the same order, and set themselves down to the banquet. I got a list of the courses at the table of the Duchess from old Küssow, and I shall here set it down, that people may see how our fathers banqueted eighty years ago in Pomerania; but, God help us! in these imperial days there is little left for us to grind our teeth upon. So smell thereat, and you will still get a delicious savour from these good old times. _First Course_.--1. A soup; 2. An egg-soup, with saffron, peppercorns, and honey thereon; 3. Stewed mutton, with onions strewed thereon; 4. A roasted capon, with stewed plums. _Second Course_.--1. Ling, with oil and raisins; 2. Beef, baked in oil; 3. Eels, with pepper; 4. Dried fish, with Leipsic mustard. _Third Course_.--1. A salad, with eggs; 2. Jellies strewed with almond and onion seed; 3. Omelettes, with honey and grapes; 4. Pastry, and many other things besides. _Fourth Course_.--1. A roast goose with red beet-root, olives, capers, and cucumbers; 2. Little birds fried in lard, with radishes; 3. Venison; 4. Wild boar, with the marrow served on toasted rolls. In conclusion, all manner of pastry, with fritters, cakes, and fancy confectionery of all kinds. So her Grace selected something from each dish herself, and despatched it to Sidonia by her maid; but the maiden would none of them, and sent all back with a message that she had no heart to gormandise and feast; but her Grace might send her some bread and water, which was alone fitting for a poor prisoner to receive. The young men could bear this no longer, their patience was quite exhausted, and their courage rose as the wine-cups were emptied. So at length Prince Ernest whispered to his brother Bogislaus to put in a good word for Sidonia. He refused, however, and Prince Ernest was ashamed to name her himself; but some of the young pages who waited on her Grace were bold enough to petition for her pardon, whereupon her Grace gave them a very sharp reproof. After dinner the Duchess and Prince Bogislaus went up the stream in a pleasure-boat to try the tame sea-gull, and her Grace requested Lord Ulrich to accompany them. But he answered that he was more necessary to the castle that evening than a night-watch in a time of war, particularly if the young Prince was to have Rostock beer play from the fountains in place of water. And soon his words came true, for when the Duchess had sailed away the young men began to drink in earnest, so that the wine ran over the threshold down the great steps, and the peasants and boors who were going back and forward with dried wood to the ducal kitchen, lay down flat on their faces, and licked up the wine from the steps (but the Almighty punished them for this, I think, for their children now are glad enough to sup up water with the geese). Meanwhile many of the youths sprang up, swearing that they would free Sidonia; others fell down quite drunk, and knew nothing more of what happened. Then old Ulrich flew to the corridor, and marched up and down with his drawn dagger in his hand, and swore he would arrest them all if they did not keep quiet; that as to those who were lying dead drunk like beasts, he must treat them like other beasts--whereupon he sends to the castle fountain for buckets of cold water, and pours it over them. Ha! how they sprang up and raged when they felt it; but he only laughed and said--if they would not hold their peace he would treat them still worse; they ought to be ashamed of their filthiness and debauchery. [Footnote: Almost all writers of that age speak of the excesses to which intoxication was carried in all the ducal courts, but particularly that of Pomerania.] But now to the uproar within was added one from without, for when the fountains began to play with Rostock beer, all the town ran thither, and drank like leeches, while they begged the serving-wenches to bring them loaves to eat with it. How the old shoemaker threw up his cap in the air, and shouted--"Long live her Grace! no better Princess was in the whole world--they hoped her Grace might live for many years and celebrate every birthday like this!" Then they would pray for her right heartily, and the women chattered and cackled, and the children screamed so that no one could hear a word that was saying, and Sidonia tried for a long time in vain to make them hear her. At last she waved a white kerchief from the window, when the noise ceased for a little, and she then began the old song, namely, "Would they release her?" Now there were some brave fellows among them to whom she had given drink-money, or purchased goods from, and they now ran to fetch a ladder and set it up against the wall; but old Ulrich got wind of this proceeding, and dispersed the mob forthwith, menacing Sidonia, before their faces, that if she but wagged a finger, and did not instantly retire from the window, and bear her well-merited punishment patiently, he would have her carried straightway through the guard-room, and locked up in the bastion tower. This threat succeeded, and she drew in her head. Meantime the Duchess returned from fishing, but when she beheld the crowd she entered through the little water-gate, and went up a winding stair to her own apartment, to attire herself for the dance. The musicians now arrived from Grypswald, and all the knights and nobles were assembled except Zitsewitz, who lay sick, whether from love or jealousy I leave undecided; so the great affair at length began, and in the state hall the band struck up Duke Bogislaus' march, played, in fact, by eighty drums and forty-three trumpets, so that it was as mighty and powerful in sound as if the great trumpet itself had played it, and the plaster dropped off from the ceiling, and the picture of his Highness the Duke, in the north window, was so disturbed by the vibration, that it shook and clattered as if it were going to descend from the frame and dance with the guests in the hall, and not only the folk outside danced to the music, but down in the town, in the great market-place, and beyond that, even in the horse-market, the giant march was heard, and every one danced to it whether in or out of the house, and cheered and huzzaed. Now the Prince could no longer repress his feelings, for, besides that he had taken a good Pomeranian draught that day, and somewhat rebelled against his lady mother, he now flung the fourth commandment to the winds (never had he done this before), and taking three companions with him, by name Dieterich von Krassow, Joachim von Budde, and Achim von Weyer, he proceeded with them to the chamber of Sidonia, and with great violence burst open the door. There she lay on the bed weeping, in a green velvet robe, laced with gold, and embroidered with other golden ornaments, and her head was crowned with pearls and diamonds, so that the young Prince exclaimed, "Dearest Sidonia, you look like a king's bride. See, I keep my word; come now, and we shall dance together in the hall." Here he would willingly have kissed her, but was ashamed because the others were by, so he said, "Go ye now to the hall and see if the dance is still going on. I will follow with the maiden." Thereat the young men laughed, because they saw well that the Prince did not just then desire their company, and they all went away, except Joachim von Budde, the rogue, who crept behind the door, and peeped through the crevice. Now, the young lord was no sooner left alone with Sidonia than he pressed her to his heart--"Did she love him? She must say yes once again." Whereupon she clasped his neck with her little hands, and with every kiss that he gave her she murmured, "Yes, yes, yes!" "Would she be his own dear wife?" "Ah, if she dared. She would have no other spouse, no, not even if the Emperor came himself with all the seven electors. But he must not make her more miserable than she was already. What could they do? he never would be allowed to marry her." "He would manage that." Then he pressed her again to his heart, with such ardour that the knave behind the door grew jealous, and springing up, called out--"If his Highness wishes for a dance he must come now." When they both entered the hall, her Grace was treading a measure with old Ulrich, but he caught sight of them directly, and without making a single remark, resigned the hand of her Grace to Prince Bogislaus, and excused himself, saying that the noise of the music had made his head giddy, and that he must leave the hall for a little. He ran then along the corridor down to the courtyard, from thence to the guard, and commanded the officer with his troop, along with the executioner and six assistants, to be ready to rush into the hall with lighted matches, the moment he waved his hat with the white plumes from the window. When he returns, the dance is over, and my gracious lady, suspecting nothing as yet, sits in a corner and fans herself. Then Ulrich takes Sidonia in one hand and Prince Ernest in the other, brings them up straight before her Highness, and asks if she had herself given permission for the Prince and Sidonia to dance together in the hall. Her Highness started from her chair when she beheld them, her cheeks glowing with anger, and exclaimed, "What does this mean? Have you dared to release Sidonia?" _Ille_.--"Yes; for this noble maiden has been treated worse than a peasant-girl by my lady mother." _Illa_.--"Oh, woe is me! this is my just punishment for having forgotten my Philip so soon, and even consenting to tread a measure in the hall." So she wept, and threw herself again upon the seat, covering her face with both hands. Now old Ulrich began. "So, my young Prince, this is the way you keep the admonitions that your father, of blessed memory, gave you on his death-bed! Fie--shame on you! Did you not give your promise also to me, the old man before you? Sidonia shall return to her chamber, if my word has yet some power in Pomerania. Speak, gracious lady, give the order, and Sidonia shall be carried back to her room." When Sidonia heard this, she laid her white hand, all covered with jewels, upon the old man's arm, and looked up at him with beseeching glances, and stroked his beard after her manner, crying, with tears of anguish, "Spare a poor young maiden! I will learn anything you tell me; I will repeat it all on Sunday. Only do not deal so hardly with me." But the little hands for once had no effect, nor the tears, nor the caresses; for Ulrich, throwing her off, gave her such a slap in the face that she uttered a loud cry and fell to the ground. If a firebrand had fallen into a barrel of gunpowder, it could not have caused a greater explosion in the hall than that cry; for after a short pause, in which every one stood silent as if thunderstruck, there arose from all the nobles, young and old, the terrible war-cry--"Jodute! Jodute! [Footnote: The learned have puzzled their heads a great deal over the etymology of this enigmatical word, which is identical in meaning with the terrible "_Zettergeschrei_" of the Reformation era. It is found in the Swedish, Gothic, and Low German dialects, and in the Italian _Goduta_. One of the best essays on the subject--which, however, leads to no result--the lover of antiquarian researches will find in Hakeus's "Pomeranian Provincial Papers," vol. v. p. 207.] to arms, to arms!" and the cry was re-echoed till the whole hall rung with it. Whoever had a dagger or a sword drew it, and they who had none ran to fetch one. But the Prince would at once have struck old Ulrich to the heart, if his brother Bogislaus had not sprung on him from behind and pinioned his arms. Then Joachim von Budde made a pass at the old knight, and wounded him in the hand. So Ulrich changed his hat from the right hand to the left, and still kept retreating till he could gain the window and give the promised sign to the guard, crying as he fought his way backward, step by step, "Come on now--come on, Ernest. Murder the old grey-headed man whom thy father called friend--murder him, as thou wilt murder thy mother this night." Then reaching the window, he waved his hat until the sign was answered; then sprang forward again, seized Sidonia by the hand, crying, "Out, harlot!" Hereupon young Lord Ernest screamed still louder, "Jodute! Jodute! Down with the grey-headed villain! What! will not the nobles of Pomerania stand by their Prince? Down with the insolent grey-beard who has dared to call my princely bride a harlot!" And so he tore himself from his brother's grasp, and sprang upon the old man; but her Grace no sooner perceived his intention than she rushed between them, crying, "Hold! hold! hold! for the sake of God, hold! He is thy second father." And as the young Prince recoiled in horror, she seized Sidonia rapidly, and pushing her before Ulrich towards the door, cried, "Out with the accursed harlot!" But Joachim Budde, who had already wounded the Grand Chamberlain, now seizing a stick from one of the drummers, hit her Grace such a blow on the arm therewith that she had to let go her hold of Sidonia. When old Ulrich beheld this, he screamed, "Treason! treason!" and rushed upon Budde. But all the young nobles, who were now fully armed, surrounded the old man, crying, "Down with him! down with him!" In vain he tried to reach a bench from whence he could defend himself against his assailants; in a few moments he was overpowered by numbers and fell upon the floor. Now, indeed, it was all over with him, if the soldatesca had not at that instant rushed into the hall with fierce shouts, and Master Hansen the executioner, in his long red cloak, with six assistants accompanying them. "Help! help!" cried her Grace; "help for the Lord Chamberlain!" So they sprang to the centre of the hall where he was lying, dashed aside his assailants, and lifted up the old man from the floor with his hand all bleeding. But Joachim Budde, who was seated on the very same bench which Ulrich had in vain tried to reach, began to mock the old knight. Whereupon Ulrich asked if it were he who had struck her Grace with the drumstick. "Ay," quoth he, laughing, "and would that she had got more of it for treating that darling, sweet, beautiful Sidonia no better than a kitchen wench. Where is the old hag now? I will teach her the catechism with my drumstick, I warrant you." And he was going to rise, when Ulrich made a sign to the executioner, who instantly dropped his red cloak, under which he had hitherto concealed his long sword, and just as Joachim looked up to see what was going on, he whirled the sword round like a flash of lightning, and cut Budde's head clean off from the shoulders, so that not even a quill of his Spanish ruff was disturbed, and the blood spouted up like three horse-tails to the ceiling (for he drank so much that all the blood was in his head), and down tumbled his gay cap, with the heron's plume, to the ground, and his head along with it. In an instant all was quietness; for though some of the ladies fainted, amongst whom was her Grace, and others rushed out of the hall, still there was such a silence that when the corpse fell down at length heavily upon the ground the clap of the hands and feet upon the floor was quite audible. When Ulrich observed that his victory was complete, he waved his hat in the air, exclaiming, "The princely house of Pomerania is saved! and, as long as I live, its honour shall never be tarnished for the sake of a harlot! Remove Prince Ernest and Sidonia to separate prisons. Let the rest go their ways;--this devil's festival is at an end, and with my consent, there shall never be another in Wolgast." CHAPTER XIII. _How Sidonia is sent away to Stettin--Item, of the young lord's dangerous illness, and what happened in consequence._ Now the Grand Chamberlain was well aware that no good would result from having Sidonia brought to a public trial, because the whole court was on her side. Therefore he called Marcus Bork, her cousin, to him in the night, and bid him take her and her luggage away next morning before break of day, and never stop or stay until they reached Duke Barnim's court at Stettin. The wind was half-way round now, and before nightfall they might reach Oderkruge. He would first just write a few lines to his Highness; and when Marcus had made all needful preparation, let him come here to his private apartment and receive the letter. He had selected him for the business because he was Sidonia's cousin, and also because he was the only young man at the castle whom the wanton had not ensnared in her toils. But that night Ulrich had reason to know that Sidonia and her lovers were dangerous enemies; for just as he had returned to his little room, and seated himself down at the table, to write to his Grace of Stettin the whole business concerning Sidonia, the window was smashed, and a large stone came plump down upon the ink-bottle close beside him, and stained all the paper. As Ulrich went out to call the guard, Appelmann, the equerry, came running up to him, complaining that his lordship's beautiful horse was lying there in the stable groaning like a human creature, for that some wretches had cut its tail clean off. _Ille_.--"Were any of the grooms in the stable lately? or had he seen any one go by the window?" _Hic_.--"No; it was impossible to see any one, on account of the darkness; but he thought he had heard some one creeping along by the wall." _Ille_.--"Let him come then, fetch a lantern, and summon all the grooms; he would give it to the knaves. Had he heard anything of her Highness recently?" _Hic_.--"A maid told him that her Grace was better, and had retired to rest." _Ille_.--"Thank God. Now they might go." But as they proceeded along the corridor, which was now almost quite dark, the old knight suddenly received such a blow upon his hat that the beautiful aigrette was broken, and he himself thrown against the wall with such violence that he lay a quarter of an hour insensible; then he shook his grey head. What could that mean? Had Appelmann seen any one? _Hic_.--"Ah! no; but he thought he heard steps, as if of some one running away." So they went on to the ducal stables, but nothing was to be seen or heard. The grooms knew nothing about the matter--the guard knew nothing. Then the old knight lamented over his beautiful horse, and told Appelmann to ride next morning, with Marcus Bork and Sidonia, to the Duke's castle at Stettin, and purchase the piebald mare for him from his Grace, about which they had been bargaining some time back; but he must keep all this secret, for the young nobles were to know nothing of the journey. Ah, what fine fun this is for the cunning rogue. "If his lordship would only give him the purse, he would bring him back a far finer horse than that which some knaves had injured." Whereupon the old knight went down to reckon out the rose-nobles--but, lo! a stone comes whizzing past him close to his head, so that if it had touched him, methinks the old man would never have spoken a word more. In short, wherever he goes, or stops, or stands, stones and buffets are rained down upon him, so that he has to call the guard to accompany him back to his chamber; but he lays the saddle on the right horse at last, as you shall hear in another place. After some hours everything became quiet in the castle, for the knaves were glad enough to sleep off their drunkenness. And so, early in the morning before dawn, while they were all snoring in their beds, Sidonia was carried off, scream as she would along the corridor, and even before the young knight's chamber; not a soul heard her. For she had not been brought to the prison tower, as at first commanded, but to her own little chamber, likewise the young lord to his; for the Grand Chamberlain thought afterwards this proceeding would not cause such scandal. But there truly was great grief in the castle when they all rose, and the cry was heard that Sidonia was gone; and some of the murderous lords threatened to make the old man pay with his blood for it. _Item_, no sooner was it day than Dr. Gerschovius ran in, crying that some of the young profligates had broken all his windows the night before, and turned a goat into the rectory, with the catechism of his dear and learned brother tied round his neck. Then old Ulrich's anger increased mightily, as might be imagined, and he brought the priest with him to the Duchess, who had got but little rest that night, and was busily turning her wheel with the little clock-work, and singing to it, in a loud, clear voice, that beautiful psalm (120th)--"In deep distress I oft have cried." She paused when they entered, and began to weep. "Was it not all prophesied? Why had she been persuaded to throw off her mourning, and slight the memory of her loved Philip? It was for this the wrath of God had come upon her house; for assuredly the Lord would avenge the innocent blood that had been shed." Then Ulrich answered that, as her Grace knew, he had earnestly opposed this festival; but as to what regarded, the traitor whose head he had chopped off, he was ready to answer for that blood, not only to man but before God. For had not the coward struck his own sovereign lady the Princess with the drumstick? _Item_, was he not in the act of rising to repeat the blow, as the whole nobility are aware, only he lost his head by the way; and if this had not been done, all order and government must have ceased throughout the land, and the mice and the rats rule the cats, which was against the order of nature and contrary to God's will. But his gracious lady might take consolation, for Sidonia had been carried from the castle that morning by four of the clock, and, by God's grace, never should set foot in it again. But there was another _gravamen_, and that concerned the young nobles, who, no doubt, would become more daring after the events of last evening. Then he related what had happened to the priest. "_Item_, what did my gracious lady mean to do with those drunken libertines? If her Grace had kept up the huntings and the fishings, as in the days of good Duke Philip, mayhap the young men would have been less given to debauchery; but her Grace kept an idle house, and they had nothing to do but drink and brew mischief. If her Grace had no fitting employment for these young fellows, then he would pack them all off to the devil the very next morning, for they brought nothing but disrespect upon the princely house of Wolgast." So her Grace rejoiced over Sidonia's departure, but could not consent to send away the young knights. Her beloved husband and lord, Philippus Primus, always kept a retinue of such young nobles, and all the princely courts did the same. What would her cousin of Brandenburg and Mecklenburg say, when they heard that she had no longer knights or pages at her court? She feared her princely name would be mentioned with disrespect. So Ulrich replied, that at all events, this set of young boisterers must be sent off, as they had grown too wild and licentious to be endured any longer; and that he would select a new retinue for her Grace from the discreetest and most sober-minded young knights of the court. Marcus Bork, however, might remain; he was true, loyal, and brave--not a wine-bibber and profligate like the others. So her Grace at last consented, seeing that no good would come of these young men now; on the contrary, they would be more daring and riotous than ever from rage, when they found that Sidonia had been sent away; and that business of the window-smashing and the goat demanded severe punishment. So let Ulrich look out for a new household; these gay libertines would be sent away. While she was speaking, the door opened, and Prince Ernest entered the chamber, looking so pale and haggard, that her Grace clasped her hands together, and asked him, with terror, what had happened. _Ille._--"Did she ask what had happened, when all Pomerania rung with it?--when nobles were beheaded before her face as if they were nothing more than beggars' brats?--when the delicate and high-born Lady Sidonia, who had been entrusted to her care by Duke Barnim himself, was turned out of the castle in the middle of the night as if she were a street-girl, because, forsooth, she would not learn her catechism? The world would scarcely credit such scandalous acts, and yet they were all true. But to-morrow (if this weakness which had come over him allowed of it) he would set off for Stettin, also to Berlin and Schwerin, and tell the princes there, his cousins, what government they held in Wolgast. He would soon be twenty, and would then take matters into his own hands; and he would pray his guardian and dear uncle, Duke Barnim, to pronounce him at once of age; then the devil might take Ulrich and his government, but he would rule the castle his own way." _Her Grace_.--"But what did he complain of? What ailed him? She must know this first, for he was looking as pale as a corpse." _Ille_.--"Did she not know, then, what ailed him? Well, since he must tell her, it was anger-anger that made him so pale and weak." _Her Grace_.--"Anger, was it? Anger, because the false wanton, Sidonia, had been removed by her orders from her princely castle? Ah! she knew now what the wanton had come there for; but would he kill his mother? She nearly sank upon the ground last night when he called the impudent wench his bride. But she forgave him; it must have been the wine he drank made him so forget himself; or was it possible that he spoke in earnest?" _Ille_ (sighing).--"The future will tell that." "Oh, woe is me! what must I live to hear? If thy father could look up from his grave, and see thee disgracing thy princely blood by a marriage with a bower maiden!--. thou traitorous, disobedient son, do not lie to me. I know from thy sighs what thy purpose is--for this thou art going to Stettin and Berlin." The Prince is silent, and looks down upon the ground. _Her Grace_.--"Oh, shame on thee! shame on thee for the sake of thy mother! shame on thee for the sake of this servant of God, thy second father, this old man here! What! a vile knave strike thy mother, before the face of all the court, and thou condemnest him because he avenged her! Truly thou art a fine, brave son, to let thy mother be struck before thy face, for the sake of a harlot. Canst thou deny it? I conjure thee by the living God, tell me is it thy true purpose to take this harlot to thy wife?" _Ille_.--"He could give but one answer, the future would decide." _Her Grace_ (weeping).--"Oh, she was reserved for all misfortunes! Why did Doctor Martinus let her ring fall? All, all has followed from that! If he had chosen a good, humble, honest girl, she would say nothing; but this wanton, this light maiden, that ran after every carl and let them court her!" Here the young Prince was seized with such violent convulsions that he fell upon the floor, and her Grace raised him up with loud lamentations. He was carried in a dead faint to his chamber, and the court physician, Doctor Pomius, instantly summoned. Doctor Pomius was a pompous little man (for my father knew him well), dry and smart in his words, and with a face like a pair of nutcrackers, for his front teeth were gone, so that his lips seemed dried on his gums, like the skin of a mummy. He was withal too self-conceited and boastful, and malicious, full of gossip and ill-nature, and running down every one that did not believe that he (Doctor Pomius) was the only learned physician in the world. Following the celebrated rules laid down by Theophrastus Paracelsus, he cured everything with trash--and asses' dung was his infallible panacea for all complaints. This pharmacopoeia was certainly extremely simple, easily obtained, and universal in its application. If the dung succeeded, the doctor drew himself up, tossed his head, and exclaimed, "What Doctor Pomius orders always succeeds." But if the wretched patient slipped out of his hands into the other world, he shook his head and said, "There is an hour for every man to die; of course his had come--physicians cannot work miracles." Pomius hated every other doctor in the town, and abused them so for their ignorance and stupidity, that finally her Grace believed that no one in the world knew anything but Doctor Pomius, and that a vast amount of profound knowledge was expressed, if he only put his finger to the end of his nose, as was his habit. So, as I have said, she summoned him to attend the young lord; and after feeling his pulse and asking some questions respecting his general health, the doctor laid his finger, as usual, to his nose, and pronounced solemnly--"The young Prince must immediately take a dose of asses' dung stewed in wine, with a little of the _laudanum paracelsi_ poured in afterwards--this will restore him certainly." But it was all in vain; for the young Prince still continued day and night calling for Sidonia, and neither the Duchess nor Doctor Gerschovius could in any wise comfort him. This afflicted her Grace almost to the death; and by Ulrich's advice, she despatched her second son, Duke Barnim the younger, and Dagobert von Schwerin, to the court of Brunswick, to solicit in her name the hand of the young Princess Sophia Hedwig, for her son Ernest Ludovicus. Now, in the whole kingdom, there was no more beautiful princess than Sophia of Brunswick; and her Grace was filled with hope that, by her means, the influence of the detestable Sidonia over the heart of the young lord would be destroyed for ever. In due time the ambassadors returned, with the most favourable answer. Father, mother, and daughter all gave consent; and the Duke of Brunswick also forwarded by their hands an exquisite miniature of his beautiful daughter for Prince Ernest. This miniature her Grace now hung up beside his bed. Would he not look at the beautiful bride she had selected for him? Could there be a more lovely face in all the German empire? What was Sidonia beside her, but a rude country girl!--would he not give her up at last, this light wench? While, on the contrary, this illustrious princess was as virtuous as she was beautiful, and this the whole court of Brunswick could testify. But the young lord would give no heed to her Grace, and spat out at the picture, and cried to take away the daub--into the fire with it--anywhere out of his sight. Unless his dear, his beautiful Sidonia came to tend him, he would die--he felt that he was dying. So her Grace took counsel with old Ulrich, and Doctor Pomius, and the priest, what could be done now. The doctor mentioned that he must have been witch-struck. Then more doctors were sent for from the Grypswald, but all was in vain--no one knew what ailed him; and from day to day he grew worse. Clara von Dewitz now bitterly reproached herself for having concealed her suspicions about the love-drink from her Grace--though indeed she did so by desire of her betrothed, Marcus Bork. But now, seeing that the young Prince lay absolutely at the point of death, she could no longer hold her peace, but throwing herself on her knees before her Grace, told her the whole story of the witch-girl whom she had sheltered in the castle, and of her fears that Sidonia had learned from her how to brew a love-philtre, which she had afterwards given to the Prince. Her Grace was sore displeased with Clara for having kept all this a secret, and said that she would have expected more wisdom and discretion from her, seeing that she had always counted her the most worthy amongst her maidens; then she summoned Ulrich, and laid the evil matter before him. He shook his head; believed that they had hit on the true cause now. Such a sickness had nothing natural about it--there must be magic and witchwork in it; but he would have the whole land searched for the girl, and make her give the young lord some potion that would take off the spell. Now the witch-girl had been pardoned a few days before that, and sent back to Usdom, near Daber; but bailiffs were now sent in all directions to arrest her, and bring her again to Wolgast without delay. So the wretched creature was discovered, before long, in Kruge, near Mahlzow, where she had hired herself as a spinner for the winter, and brought before Ulrich and her Grace. She was there admonished to tell the whole truth, but persisted in asseverating that Sidonia had never learned from her how to make a love-drink. Her statement, however, was not believed; and Master Hansen was summoned, to try and make her speak more. The affair, indeed, appeared so serious to Ulrich, that he himself stood by while she was undergoing the torture, and carried on the _protocollum_, calling out to Master Hansen occasionally not to spare his squeezes. But though the blood burst from her finger-ends, and her hip was put out of joint, so that she limped ever after, she confessed nothing more, nor did she alter the statement which she had first made. _Item_, her Grace, and the priest, and all the bystanders exhorted her in vain to confess the truth (for her Grace was present at the torture). At last she cried out, "Yes, I know something that will cure him! Mercy! mercy! and I will tell it." So they unbound her, and she was going straightway to make her witch-potion, but old Ulrich changed his mind. Who could know whether this devil's fiend was telling them the truth? May be she would kill the young lord in place of curing him. So they gave her another stretch upon the rack. But as she still held by all her assertions, they spared her any further torture. But, in my opinion, the young lord must have obtained something from her, otherwise he could not have recovered all at once the moment that Sidonia was brought back, as I shall afterwards relate. _Sum total_.--The young Prince screamed day and night for Sidonia, and told her Grace that he now felt he was dying, and requested, as his last prayer upon this earth, to be allowed to see her once more. The maiden was an angel of goodness; and if she could but close his dying eyes, he would die happy. It can be easily imagined with what humour her Grace listened to such a request, for she hated Sidonia like Satan himself; but as nothing else could satisfy him, she promised to send for her, if Prince Ernest would solemnly swear, by the corpse of his father, that he would never wed her, but select some princess for his bride, as befitted his exalted rank--the Princess Hedwig, or some other--as soon as he had recovered sufficiently to be able to quit his bed. So he quickly stretched forth his thin, white hand from the bed, and promised his dearly beloved mother to do all she had asked, if she would only send horsemen instantly to Stettin, for the journey by water was insecure, and might be tedious if the wind were not favourable. Hereupon a great murmur arose in the castle; and young Duke Bogislaus fell into such a rage that he took his way back again to Camyn, and his younger brother, Barnim, accompanied him. But the anger of the Grand Chamberlain no words can express. He told her Grace, in good round terms, that she would be the mock of the whole land. The messengers had only just returned who had carried away Sidonia from the castle under the greatest disgrace; and now, forsooth, they must ride back again to bring her back with all honour. "Oh, it was all true, quite true; but then, if her dearest son Ernest were to die--" _Ille_.--"Let him die. Better lose his life than his honour." _Hæc_.--"He would not peril his honour, for he had sworn by the corpse of his father never to wed Sidonia." _Ille_.--"Ay, he was quick enough in promising, but performing was a different thing. Did her Grace think that the passion of a man could be controlled by promises, as a tame horse by a bridle? Never, never. Passion was a wild horse, that no bit, or bridle, or curb could guide, and would assuredly carry his rider to the devil." _Her Grace_.--"Still she could not give up her son to death; besides, he would repent and see his folly. Did not God's Word tell us how the prodigal son returned to his father, and would not her son return likewise?" _Ille_.--"Ay, when he has kept swine. After that he may return, but not till then. The youngster was as great a fool about women as he had ever come across in his life." _Her Grace_ (weeping).--"He was too harsh on the young man. Had she not sent away the girl at his command; and now he would let her own child die before her eyes, without hope or consolation?" _Ille_.--"But if her child is indeed dying, would she send for the devil to attend him in his last moments? Her Grace should be more consistent. If the young lord is dying, let him die; her Grace has other children, and God will know how to comfort her. Had he not been afflicted himself? and let her ask Dr. Gerschovius if the Lord had not spoken peace unto him." _Her Grace_.--"Ah, true; but then neither of them are mothers. Her son is asking every moment if the messengers have departed, and what shall she answer him? She cannot lie, but must tell the whole bitter truth." _Ille_.--"He saw the time had come at last for him to follow the young princes. He was of no use here any longer. Her Grace must give him permission to take his leave, for he would sail off that very day for his castle at Spantekow, and then she might do as she pleased respecting the young lord." So her Grace besought him not to leave her in her sore trouble and perplexity. Her two sons had sailed away, and there was no one left to advise and comfort her. But Ulrich was inflexible. "She must either allow her son quietly to leave this miserable life, or allow him to leave this miserable court service." "Then let him go to Spantekow. Her son should be saved. She would answer before the throne of the Almighty for what she did. But would he not promise to return, if she stood in any great need or danger? for she felt that both were before her; still she must peril everything to save her child." _Ille_.--"Yes, he would be ready on her slightest summons; and he doubted not but that Sidonia would soon give her trouble and sorrow enough. But he could not remain now, without breaking his knightly oath to Duke Philip, his deceased feudal seigneur of blessed memory, and standing before the court and the world as a fool." So after many tears her Grace gave him his dismissal, and he rode that same day to Spantekow, promising to return if she were in need, and also to send her a new retinue and household immediately. This last arrangement displeased Marcus Bork mightily, for he had many friends amongst the knights who were now to be dismissed, and so he, too, prayed her Grace for leave to resign his office and retire from court. He had long looked upon Clara von Dewitz with a holy Christian love, and, if her Grace permitted, he would now take her home as his dear loving wife. Her Grace replied that she had long suspected this betrothal--particularly from the time that Clara told her of his advice respecting the concealment of the witch-girl's visit to Sidonia; and as he had acted wrongly in that business, he must now make amends by not deserting her in her greatest need. Her sons and old Ulrich had already left her; some one must remain in whom she could place confidence. It would be time enough afterwards to bring home his beloved wife Clara, and she would wish them God's blessing on their union. _Ille_.--"True, he had been wrong in concealing that business with the witch-girl, but her Grace must pardon him. He never thought it would bring the young lord to his dying bed. Whatever her Grace now commanded he would yield obedience to." "Then," said her Grace, "do you and Appelmann mount your horses instantly, ride to Stettin, and bring back Sidonia. For her dearly beloved son had sworn that he could not die easy unless he beheld Sidonia once more, and that she attended him in his last moments." It may be easily imagined how the good knight endeavoured to dissuade her Highness from this course, and even spoke to the young Prince himself, but in vain. That same day he and Appelmann were obliged to set off for Stettin, and on their arrival presented the following letter to old Duke Barnim:-- "MARIA, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, BORN DUCHESS OF SAXONY, &c. "ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE AND MY DEAR UNCLE,--It has not been concealed from your Highness how our clear son Ernest Ludovicus, since the departure of Sidonia, has fallen, by the permission of God, into such a state of bodily weakness that his life even stands in jeopardy. "He has declared that nothing will restore him but to see Sidonia once more. We therefore entreat your Highness, after admonishing the aforesaid maiden severely upon her former light and unseemly behaviour, to dismiss her with our messengers, that they may return and give peace and health to our dearly beloved son. "If your Highness would enjoy a hunt or a fishing with a tame sea-gull, it would give us inexpressible pleasure. "We commend you lovingly to God's holy keeping. "Given from our Castle of Wolgast, this Friday, April 15, 1569. "MARIA." CHAPTER XIV. _How Duke Barnim of Stettin and Otto Bork accompany Sidonia back to Wolgast._ When his Highness of Stettin had finished the perusal of her Grace's letter, he laughed loudly, and exclaimed-- "This comes of all their piety and preachings. I knew well what this extravagant holiness would make of my dear cousin and old Ulrich. If people would persist in being so wonderfully religious, they would soon become as sour as an old cabbage head; and Sidonia declared, that, for her part, a hundred horses should not drag her back to Wolgast, where she had been lectured and insulted, and all because she would not learn her catechism like a little school-girl." Nor would Otto Bork hear of her returning. (He was waiting at Stettin to conduct her back to Stramehl.) At last, however, he promised to consent, on condition that his Highness would grant him the dues on the Jena. Now the Duke knew right well that Otto wanted to revenge himself upon the people of Stargard, with whom he was at enmity; but he pretended not to observe the cunning knight's motives, and merely replied-- "They must talk of the matter at Wolgast, for nothing could be decided upon without having the opinion of his cousin the Duchess." So the knight taking this as a half-promise, and Sidonia having at last consented, they all set off on Friday with a good south wind in their favour, and by that same evening were landed by the little water-gate at Wolgast. His Highness was received with distinguished honours--the ten knights of her Grace's new household being in waiting to receive him as he stepped on shore. So they proceeded to the castle, the Duke having Sidonia upon one arm, and a Cain under the other, which he had been carving during the passage, for the Eve had long since been finished. Otto followed; and all the people, when they beheld Sidonia, uttered loud cries of joy that the dear young lady had come back to them. This increased her arrogance, so that when her Grace received her, and began a godly admonishment upon her past levities, and conjured her to lead a modest, devout life for the future, Sidonia replied indiscreetly--"She knew not what her Grace and her parson meant by a modest, devout life, except it were learning the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius; from such modesty and devoutness she begged to be excused, she was no little school-girl now--she thought her Grace had got rid of all her whims and caprices, by sending for her after having turned her out of the castle without any cause whatever--but it was all the old thing over again." Her Grace coloured up with anger at this bitter speech, but held her peace. Then Otto addressed her, and begged leave to ask her Grace what kind of order was held at her court, where a priest was allowed to slap the fingers of a noble young maiden, and a chamberlain to smite her on the face? Had he known that such were the usages at her court of Wolgast, the Lady Sidonia (such he delighted to call her, as though she were of princely race) never should have entered it, and he would now instantly take her back to Stramehl, if her Grace would not consent to give him up the dues on the Jena. Now her Grace knew nothing about the dues, and therefore said, turning to the Duke--"Dear uncle, what does this arrogant knave mean? I do not comprehend his insolent speech." Hereupon Otto chafed with rage, that her Grace had named him with such contempt, and cried--"Then was your husband a knave, too! for my blood is as noble and nobler than your own, and I am lord of castles and lands. Come, my daughter; let us leave the robbers' den, or mayhap thy father will be struck even as thou wert." Now her Grace knew not what to do, and she lamented loudly--more particularly because at this moment a message arrived from Prince Ernest, praying her for God's sake to bring Sidonia to him, as he understood that she had been in the castle now a full quarter of an hour. Then old Otto laughed loudly, took his daughter by the hand, and cried again, "Come--let us leave this robber hole. Come, Sidonia!" This plunged her Grace into despair, and she exclaimed in anguish, "Will you not have pity on my dying child?" but Otto continued, "Come, Sidonia! come, Sidonia!" and he drew her by the hand. Here Duke Barnim rose up and said, "Sir Knight, be not so obstinate. Remember it is a sorrowing mother who entreats you. Is it not true, Sidonia, you will remain here?" Then the cunning hypocrite lifted her kerchief to her eyes, and replied, "If I did not know the catechism of Doctor Gerschovius, yet I know God's Word, and how the Saviour said, 'I was sick and ye visited Me,' and James also says, 'The prayer of faith shall save the sick.' No, I will not let this poor young lord die, if my visit and my prayer can help him." "No, no," exclaimed Otto, "thou shall not remain, unless the dues of the Jena be given up to me." And as at this moment another page arrived from Prince Ernest, with a similar urgent request for Sidonia to come to him, her Grace replied quickly, "I promise all that you desire," without knowing what she was granting; so the knight said he was content, and let go his daughter's hand. Now the good town of Stargard would have been ruined for ever by this revengeful man, if his treacherous designs had not been defeated (as we shall see presently) by his own terrible death. He had long felt a bitter hatred to the people of Stargard, because at one time they had leagued with the Greifenbergers and the Duke of Pomerania to ravage his town of Stramehl, in order to avenge an insult he had offered to the old burgomaster, Jacob Appelmann, father of the chief equerry, Johann Appelmann. In return for this outrage, Otto determined, if possible, to get the control of the dues of the Jena into his own hands, and when the Stargardians brought their goods and provisions up the Jena, and from thence prepared to enter the river Haff, he would force them to pay such exorbitant duty upon everything, that the merchants and the people, in short, the whole town, would be ruined, for their whole subsistence and merchandise came by these two rivers, and all this was merely to gratify his revenge. But the just God graciously turned away the evil from the good town, and let it fall upon Otto's own head, as we shall relate in its proper place. So, when the old knight had let go his daughter's hand, her Grace seized it, and went instantly with Sidonia to the chamber of the young lord, all the others following. And here a moving scene was witnessed, for as they entered, Prince Ernest extended his thin, pale hands towards Sidonia, exclaiming, "Sidonia, ah, dearest Sidonia, have you come at last to nursetend me?" then he took her little hand, kissed it, and bedewed it with his tears, still repeating, "Sidonia, dearest Sidonia, have you come to nursetend me?" So the artful hypocrite began to weep, and said--. "Yes, my gracious Prince, I have come to you, although your priest struck me on the fingers, and your mother and old Ulrich called me a harlot, before all the court, and lastly, turned me out of the castle by night, as if I had been a swine-herd; but I have not the heart to let your Highness surfer, if my poor prayers and help can abate your sickness; therefore let them strike me, and call me a harlot again, if they wish." This so melted the heart of my gracious Prince Ernest, that he cried out, "O Sidonia, angel of goodness, give me one kiss, but one little kiss upon my mouth, Sidonia! bend down to me--but one, one kiss!" Her Grace was dreadfully scandalised at such a speech, and said he ought to be ashamed of such words. Did he not remember what he had sworn by the corpse of his father at St. Peter's? But old Duke Barnim cried out, laughing--"Give him a kiss, Sidonia; that is the best plaster for his wounds; 'a kiss in honour brings no dishonour,' says the proverb." However, Sidonia still hesitated, and bending down to the young man, said, "Wait, gracious Prince, until we are alone." If the Duchess had been angry before, what was it to her rage now--"Alone! she would take good care they were never to be alone!" Otto took no notice of this speech, probably because he saw that matters were progressing much to his liking between the Prince and his daughter; but Duke Barnim exclaimed, "How now, dearest cousin, are you going to spoil all by your prudery? You brought the girl here to cure him, and what other answer could she give? Bend thee down, Sidonia, and give him one little kiss upon the lips--I, the Prince, command thee; and see, thou needst not be ashamed, for I will set thee an example with his mother. Come, dear cousin, put off that sour face, and give me a good, hearty kiss; your son will get well the sooner for it:" but as he attempted to seize hold of her Grace, she cried out, and lifted up her hands to Heaven, lamenting in a loud voice--"Oh, evil and wicked world! may God release me from this wicked world, and lay me down this day beside my Philip in the grave!" Then weeping and wringing her hands, she left the chamber, while the old knight, and--God forgive him!--even Duke Barnim, looked after her, laughing. "Come, Otto," said his Grace, "let us go too, and leave this pair alone; I must try and pacify my dear cousin." So they left the room, and on the way Otto opened his mind to the Duke about this love matter, and asked his Grace, would he consent to the union, if Prince Ernest, on his recovery, made honourable proposals for his daughter Sidonia. But his Grace was right crafty, and merely answered--"Time enough to settle that, Otto, when he is recovered; but methinks you will have some trouble with his mother unless you are more civil to her; so if you desire her favour, bear yourself more humbly, I advise you, as befits a subject." This the knight promised, and the conversation ceased, as they came up with the Duchess just then, who was waiting for them in the grand corridor. No sooner did she perceive that Sidonia was not with them than she cried out, "So my son is alone with the maiden!" and instantly despatched three pages to watch them both. Otto had now changed his tone, and instead of retorting, thanked her Grace for the praiseworthy and Christian care she took of his daughter. He did not believe this at first, but now he saw it with his own eyes. Alas, it was too true, the world was daily growing worse and worse, and the devil haunted us with his temptations, like our own flesh and blood. Then he sighed and kissed her hand, and prayed her Grace to pardon him his former bold language--but, in truth, he had felt displeased at first to see her Grace so harsh to Sidonia, when every one else at the castle received her with rapture; but he saw now that she only meant kindly and motherly by the girl. Then the Duke asked, her pardon for his little jest about the kissing. She knew well that he meant no harm; and also that it was not in his nature to endure any melancholy or lamentable faces around him. So her Grace was reconciled to both, and when the Duke announced that he and the knight proposed visiting Barth [Footnote: Barth, a little town; and Eldena was at that time a richly endowed convent near Greifswald.] and Eldena, from whence they would return in a few days, to take their leave of her, she said that if her dearest son Ernest grew any better, she would have a grand _battue_ in honour of his Highness Duke Barnim, upon their return. Accordingly, after having amused themselves for a little fishing with the tame sea-gull, the Duke and Otto rode away, and her Grace went to the chamber of the young Prince, to keep watch there during the night. She would willingly have dismissed Sidonia, but he forbade her; and Sidonia herself declared that she would watch day and night by the bedside of the young lord. So she sat the whole night by his bed, holding his hand in hers, and told him about her journey, and how shamefully she had been smuggled away out of the castle by old Ulrich, because she would not learn the catechism; and of her anguish when the messengers arrived, and told of their young lord's illness. She was quite certain Ulrich must have given him something to cause it, as a punishment for having released her from prison, for if he could strike a maiden, it was not surprising that he would injure even his future reigning Prince to gratify his malice. It was well the old malignant creature was away now, as she was told, and if his Grace did right he would play him a trick in return, and set fire to his castle at Spantekow as soon as he was able to move. Her Grace endured all this in silence, for her dear son's sake, though in truth her anger was terrible. The young lord, however, grew better rapidly, and the following day was even able to creep out of bed for a couple of hours, to touch the lute. And he taught Sidonia all, and placed her little fingers himself on the strings, that she might learn the better. Then, for the first time, he called for something to eat, and after that fell into a profound sleep which lasted forty-eight hours. During this time he lay like one dead, and her Grace would have tried to awaken him, but the physician prevented her. At length, when he awoke, he cried out loudly, first for Sidonia, and then for some food. At last, to the great joy of her Grace, he was able, on the fourth day, to walk in the castle garden, and arranged to attend the hunt with his dear uncle upon his return to Wolgast. The Duke, on his arrival, rejoiced greatly to find the young lord so well, and said with his usual gay manner, "Come here, Sidonia; I have been rather unwell on the journey: come here and give me a kiss too, to make me better!" and Sidonia complied. Whereupon her Grace looked unusually sour, but said nothing, for fear of disturbing the general joy. Indeed, the whole castle was in a state of jubilee, and her Grace promised that she and her ladies would attend the hunt on the following day. About this time the castle was troubled by a strange apparition--no other than the spectre of the serpent knight, who had been drowned some time previously. It was reported that every night the ghost entered the castle by the little water-gate, though it was kept barred and bolted, traversed the whole length of the corridor, and sunk down into the earth, just over the place where the ducal coaches and sleighs were kept. Every one fled in terror before the ghost, and scarcely a lansquenet could be found to keep the night watch. What this spectre betokened shall be related further on in this little history, but at present I must give an account of the grand _battue_ which took place according to her Grace's orders, and of what befell there. CHAPTER XV. _Of the grand battue, and what the young Duke and Sidonia resolved on there._ The preparations for the hunt commenced early in the morning, and the knights and nobles assembled in the hall of fishes (so called because the walls were painted with representations of all the fishes that are indigenous to Pomerania). Here a superb breakfast was served, and pages presented water in finger-basins of silver to each of the princely personages. Then costly wines were handed round, and Duke Barnim, having filled to the brim a cup bearing the Pomeranian arms, rose up and said, "Give notice to the warder at St. Peter's." And immediately, as the great bell of the town rang out, and resounded through the castle and all over the town, his Grace gave the health of Prince Ernest, who pledged him in return. Afterwards they all descended to the courtyard, and his Grace entered the ducal mews himself, to select a horse for the day. Now these mews were of such wonderful beauty, that I must needs append a description of them here. First there was a grand portico, and within a corridor with ranges of pillars on each side, round which were hung antlers and horns of all the animals of the chase. This led to the pond with the island in the centre, where the bear was kept, as I have already described. When Duke Barnim and the old knight emerged from the portico to enter the stable, they were met by Johann Appelmann, the chief equerry, who spread before the feet of his Highness a scarlet horse-cloth, embroidered with the ducal arms, whereon he laid a brush and a riding-whip; and then demanded his _Trinkgeld_. On entering, they observed numerous stalls filled with Pomeranian, Hungarian, Frisian, Danish, and Turkish horses--each race by itself, and each horse standing ready saddled and bridled since the morning. _Item_, all along the walls were ranged enormous brazen lions' heads, which conveyed water throughout the building, and cleansed the stables completely every day. Otto wondered much at all this magnificence, and asked his Grace what could her Highness want with all these horses. "They eat their oats in idleness, for the most part," replied the Duke. "No one uses them but the pages and knights of the household, who may select any for riding that pleases them; but her Highness would never diminish any of the state maintained by her deceased lord, Duke Philip. So there has been always, since that time, particular attention paid to the ducal stables at Wolgast." Now the train began to move towards the hunt, in all about a hundred persons, and in front rode her Grace upon an ambling palfrey, dressed in a riding-habit of green velvet, and wearing a yellow hat with plumes. Her little Casimir rode by her side on a Swedish pony; then followed her ladies-in-waiting, amongst whom rode Sidonia, all likewise dressed in green velvet hunting-dresses, fastened with golden clasps; but in place of yellow, they wore scarlet hats, with gilded herons' plumes. Duke Barnim and Prince Ernest rode along with her Grace; and though none but those of princely blood were allowed to join this group, yet Otto strove to keep near them, as if he really belonged to the party, just as the sacristan strives to make the people think he is as good as the priest by keeping as close as he can to him while the procession moves along the streets. After these came the marshal, the castellan, and then the treasurer, with the office-bearers, knights, and esquires of the household. Then the chief equerry, with the master of the hounds and the principal huntsmen. But the beaters, pages, lacqueys, drummers, coursers, and runners had already gone on before a good way; and never had the Wolgastians beheld such a stately hunt as this since the death of good Duke Philip. So the whole town ran together, and followed the procession for a good space, up to the spot where blue tents were erected for her Grace and her ladies. The ground all round was strewed with flowers and evergreens, and before the tents palisades were erected, on which lay loaded rifles, ready to discharge at any of the game that came that way; and for two miles round the master of the hunt had laid down nets, which were all connected together at a point close to the princely tent. When the beaters and their dogs had started the animals, he left the tent to reconnoitre, and if the sport promised to be plentiful, he ordered the drums to beat, in order to give her Highness notice. Then she took a rifle herself, and brought down several head, which was easily accomplished, when they passed upon each other as thick as sheep. Sidonia, who had often attended the hunts at Stramehl, was a most expert shot, and brought down ten roes and stags, whereon she had much jesting with the young lords, who had not been half so successful. And let no one imagine that there was danger to her Highness and her ladies in thus firing at the wild droves from her tent, for it was erected upon a scaffolding raised five feet from the ground, and surrounded by palisades, so that it was impossible the animals could ever reach it. On that day, there were killed altogether one hundred and fifty stags, one hundred roes, five hundred hares, three hundred foxes, one hundred wild boars, seven wolves, five wild-cats, and one bear, which was entangled in the net and then shot. And at last the right hearty pleasure of the day began. For it was the custom at the ducal court for each huntsman, from the master of the hunt down, to receive a portion of the game; and her Grace took much pleasure now in seeing the mode in which the distribution was made. It was done in this wise: each man received the head of the animal, and as much of the neck as he could cover with the ears, by dragging them down with all his might. So the huntsmen stood now toiling and sweating, each with one foot firmly planted against a stone and the other on the belly of the beast, dragging down the ears with all his force to the very furthest point they could go, when another huntsman, standing by, cut off the head at that point with his hunting-knife. Then each man let his dog bite at the entrails of a stag, while they repeated old charms and verses over them, such as:-- "Diana, no better e'er track'd a wood; There's many a huntsman not half so good." Or, in Low German:-- "Wasser, if ever the devil you see, Bite his leg for him, or he will bite me." These old rhymes pleased the young Casimir mightily: if his lady mother would only lend him a ribbon, he would lead up little Blaffert his dog to them, and have a rhyme said over him. So her Grace consented, and broke off her sandal-tie to fasten in the little dog's collar, because in her hurry she could find no other string, and left the tent herself with the child to conduct him to the huntsmen. Now the moment her Grace had taken her eyes off Sidonia, and that all the other ladies had left the tent to follow her and the little boy, who was laughing and playing with his dog, the young maiden, looking round to see that no one was observing her, slipped out and ran in amongst the bushes, and my lord, Prince Ernest, slipped after her. No one observed them, for all eyes were turned upon the princely child, who sprang to a huntsman and begged of him to say a rhyme or two over his little dog Blaffert. The carl rubbed his forehead, and at last gave out his psalm, as follows, in Low German:-- "Blaffert, Blaffert, thou art fat! If my lord would only feed All his people like to that 'Twould be well for Pommern's need." [Footnote: Pomerania.] All the bystanders laughed heartily, and then the hounds were given their dinner according to the usage, which was this:--A number of oak and birch trees were felled, and over every two and two there was spread a tablecloth--that is, the warm skin of a deer or wild-boar; into this, as into a wooden trencher, was poured the warm blood of the wild animals, which the hounds lapped up, while forty huntsmen played a march with drums and trumpets, which was re-echoed from the neighbouring wood, to the great delight of all the listeners. When the hounds had lapped up all the blood, they began to eat up the tablecloths likewise; but as these belonged to the huntsmen, a great fight took place between them and the dogs for the skins, which was right merry to behold, and greatly rejoiced the ducal party and all the people. In the meantime, as I said, Sidonia had slipped into the wood, and the young lord after her. He soon found her resting under the shadow of a large nut-tree, and the following conversation took place between them, as he afterwards many times related:-- "Alas, gracious Prince, why do you follow me? if your lady mother knew of this we should both suffer. My head ached after all that firing, and therefore I came hither to enjoy a little rest and quietness. Leave me, leave me, my gracious lord." "No, no, he would not leave her until she told him whether she still loved him; for his lady mother watched him day and night, like the dragon that guarded the Pomeranian arms, and until this moment he had never seen her alone." "But what could he now desire to say? Had he not sworn by the corpse of his father never to wed her?" "Yes; in a moment of anguish he had sworn it, because he would have died if she had not been brought back to the castle." "But still he must hold by his word to his lady mother, would he not?" "Impossible! all impossible! He would sooner renounce land and people for ever than his beautiful Sidonia. How he felt, for the first time, the truth of the holy words, 'Love is strong as death.'" [Footnote: Song of Solomon viii. 6.] Then he throws his arms round her and kissed her, and asked, would she be his? Here Sidonia covered her face with both hands, and sinking down upon the grass, murmured, "Yours alone, either you or death." The Prince threw himself down beside her, and besought her not to weep. "He could not bear to see her tears; besides, there was good hope for them yet, for he had spoken to old Zitsewitz, who wished them both well, and who had given him some good advice." _Sidonia_ (quickly removing her hands).--"What was it?" "To have a private marriage. Then the devil himself could not separate them, much less the old bigot Ulrich. There was a priest in the neighbourhood, of the name of Neigialink. He lived in Crummyn, [Footnote: A town near Wolgast.] with a nun whom he had carried off from her convent and married; therefore he would be able to sympathise with lovers, and would help them." "But his Highness should remember his kingly state, and not bring misery on them both for ever." "He had considered all that, they should therefore keep this marriage private for a year; she could live at Stramehl during that period, and receive his visits without his mother knowing of the matter. At the end of that year he would be of age, and his own master." _Sidonia_ (embracing him).--"Ah, if he really loved her so, then the sooner the better to the church. But let him take care that evil-minded people would not separate them for ever, and bring her to an early grave. Had the priest been informed that he would be required to wed them?" "Not yet; but if he continued as strong as he felt to-day, he would ride over to Crummyn himself (for it was quite near to Wolgast) the moment Duke Barnim and her father quitted the castle." "But how would she know the result of his visit? his mother watched her day and night. Could he send a page or a serving-maid to her?--though indeed there were none now he could trust, for Ulrich had dismissed all her good friends. And if he came himself to her room, evil might be spoken of it." "He had arranged all that already. There was the bear, as she remembered, chained upon the little island in the horse-pond, just under her window. Now when he returned from Crummyn, he would go out by seven in the morning, before his lady mother began her spinning, and commence shooting arrows at the bear, by way of sport; then, as if by chance, he would let fly an arrow at her window and shiver the glass, but the arrow would contain a little note, detailing his visit to the priest at Crummyn, and the arrangement he had made for carrying her away secretly from the castle. She must take care, however, to move away her seat from the window, and place it in a corner, lest the arrow might strike herself." But then a loud "Sidonia! Sidonia!" resounded through the wood, and immediately after, "Ernest! Ernest!" So she sprang up, and cried, "Run, dearest Prince, run as fast as you are able, to the other side, where the huntsmen are gathering, and mix with them, so that her Grace may not perceive you." This he did, and began to talk to the huntsmen about their dogs and the sweep of the chase, and as her Grace continued calling "Ernest! Ernest!" he stepped slowly towards her out of the crowd, and asked what was her pleasure? So she suspected nothing, and grew quite calm again. Duke Barnim now began to complain of hunger, and asked her Grace where she meant to serve them a collation, for he could never hold out until they reached Wolgast, and his friend Otto also was growing as ravenous as a wolf. Her Grace answered, the collation was laid in the Cisan tower, close beside them, and as the weather was good, his Grace could amuse himself with the _tubum opticum_, which a Pomeranian noble had bought in Middelburg from one Johann Lippersein, [Footnote: An optician, and the probable inventor of the telescope, which was first employed about the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century.] and presented to her. By the aid of this telescope he would see as far as his own town of Stettin. Neither the Duke nor Otto Bork believed it possible to see Stettin, at the distance of thirteen or fourteen miles, with any instrument. But her Grace, who had heard of Otto's godless infidelity, rebuked him gravely, saying, "You will soon be convinced, sir knight; so we often hold that to be impossible in spiritual matters, which becomes not only possible, but certain, when we look through the telescope which the Holy Spirit presents to us, weak and short-sighted mortals. God give to every infidel such a _tubum opticum_!" The Duke, fearing now that her Grace would continue her sermon indefinitely, interrupted her in his jesting way--"Listen, dear cousin! I will lay a wager with you. If I cannot see Stettin, as you promise, you shall give me a kiss; but if I see it and recognise it clearly, then I shall give you a kiss." Her Grace was truly scandalised, as one may imagine, and replied angrily--"Good uncle! if you attempt to offer such indignities to me, the princely widow, I must pray your Grace to leave my court with all speed, and never to return!" This rebuke made every one grave until they reached the Cisan tower. This building lay only half a mile from the hunting-ground, and was situated on the summit of the Cisanberg, from whence its name. It was built of wood, and contained four stories, besides excellent stabling for horses. The apartments were light, airy, and elegant, so that her Grace frequently passed a portion of the summer time there. The upper story commanded a view of the whole adjacent country. At the foot of the hill ran the little river Cisa into the Peen, and many light, beautiful bridges were thrown over it at different points. The hill itself was finely wooded with pines and other trees, and the tower was made more light and airy than that which Duke Johann Frederick afterwards erected at Friedrichswald, and commanded a far finer prospect, seeing that the Cisanberg is the highest hill in Pomerania. While the party proceeded to the tower, Sidonia rode along by her father, and to judge from her animation and gestures, she was, no doubt, communicating to him all that the young lord had promised, and her hopes, in consequence, that a very short period would elapse before he might salute her as Duchess of Pomerania. When they reached the tower, all admired the view even from the lower window, for they could see the Peen, the Achterwasser, and eight or nine towns, besides the sea in the distance. I say nothing of Wolgast, which seemed to lie just beneath their feet, with its princely castle and cathedral perfectly distinct, and all its seats laid out like a map, where they could even distinguish the people walking. Then her Grace bade them ascend to the upper story, and look out for Stettin, but they sought for it in vain with their unassisted eyes; then her Grace placed the _tubum opticum_ before the Duke, and no sooner had he looked through it than he cried out, "As I live, Otto, there is my strong tower of St. James's, and my ducal castle to the left, lying far behind the Finkenwald mountain." But the unbelieving Thomas laughed, and only answered, "My gracious Prince! do not let yourself be so easily imposed upon." Hereupon the Duke made him look through the telescope himself; and no sooner had he applied his eye to the glass than he jumped back, rubbed his eyes, looked through a second time, and then exclaimed-- "Well, as true as my name is Otto Bork, I never could have believed this." "Now, sir knight," said her Grace, "so it is with you as concerns spiritual things. How if you should one day find that to be true which your infidelity now presumptuously asserts to be false? Will not your repentance then be bitter? If you have found my words true--the words of a poor, weak, sinful woman, will you not much more find those of the holy Son of God? Yes, to your horror and dismay, you will find His words to be truth, of whom even His enemies testified that He never lied--Matt. xxii. 16. Tremble, sir knight, and bethink you that what often seems impossible to man is possible to God." The bold knight was now completely silenced, and the good-natured Duke, seeing that he had not a word to say in reply, advanced to his rescue, and changed the conversation by saying-- "See, Otto, the wind seems so favourable just now, that I think we had better say '_Vale_' to our gracious hostess in the morning, and return to Stettin." Not a word did his Grace venture to say more about the wager of the kisses, for his dear cousin's demeanour restrained even his hilarity. Otto had nothing to object to the arrangement; and her Grace said, if they were not willing longer to abide at her widowed court, she would bid them both Godspeed upon their journey. "And you, sir knight, may take back your daughter Sidonia, for our dear son, as you may perceive, is now quite restored, and no longer needs her nursing. For the good deed she has wrought in curing him, I shall recompense her as befits me. But at my court the maiden can no longer abide." The knight was at first so thunderstruck by these words that he could not speak; but at last drawing himself up proudly, he said, "Good; I shall take the Lady Sidonia back with me to my castle; but as touching the recompense, keep it for those who need it." Sidonia, however, remained quite silent, as did also the young lord. But hear what happened. The festival lasted until late in the night, and then suddenly such a faintness and bodily weakness came over the young Prince Ernest that all the physicians had to be sent for; and they with one accord entreated her Grace, if she valued his life, not to send away Sidonia. One can imagine what her Grace felt at this news. Nothing would persuade her to believe but that Sidonia had given him some witch-drink, such as the girl out of Daber had taught her to make. No one could believe either that his Highness affected this sickness, in order to force his mother to keep Sidonia at the court; indeed, he afterwards strongly asseverated, and this at a time when he would have killed Sidonia with a look, if it had been possible, that this weakness came upon him suddenly like an ague, and that it could not have been caused by anything she had given him, for he had eaten nothing, except at the banquet at the Cisan tower. In short, the young Prince became as bad as ever; but Sidonia never heeded him, only busied herself packing up her things, as if she really intended going away with Otto, and finally, as eight o'clock struck the next morning, she wrapped herself in her mantle and hood, and went with her father and Duke Barnim to take leave of her Grace. She looked as bitter and sour as a vinegar-cruet--nothing would tempt her to remain even for one day longer. What was her Grace to do? the young lord was dying, and had already despatched two pages to her, entreating for one sight of Sidonia! She must give the artful hypocrite good words--but they were of no avail--Sidonia insisted on leaving the castle that instant with her father; then turning to Duke Barnim, she exclaimed with bitter tears, "Now, gracious Prince, you see yourself how I am treated here." Neither would the cunning Otto permit his daughter to remain on any account, unless, indeed, her Grace gave him a written authority to receive the dues on the Jena. Such shameless knavery at last enraged the old Duke Barnim to such a degree that he cried out--"Listen, Otto, my illustrious cousin here has no more to do with the dues on the Jena than you have; they belong to me alone, and I can give no promise until I lay the question before my council and the diet of the Stettin dukedom: be content, therefore, to wait until then." One may easily guess what was the termination of the little drama got up by Otto and his fair daughter--namely, that Otto sailed away with the Duke, and that Sidonia remained at the court of Wolgast. CHAPTER XVI. _How the ghost continued to haunt the castle, and of its daring behaviour--Item, how the young lord regained his strength, and was able to visit Crummyn, with what happened to him there. So Sidonia was again seated by the couch of the young Prince, with her hand in his hand; but her Grace, as may well be imagined, was never very far off from them; and this annoyed Sidonia so much, that she did not scruple to treat the mourning mother and princely widow with the utmost contempt; at last disdaining even to answer the questions addressed to her by her Grace. All this the Duchess bore patiently for the sake of her dear son. But even Prince Ernest felt, at length, ashamed of such insolent scorn being displayed towards his mother, and said-- "What, Sidonia, will you not even answer my gracious mother?" Hereupon the hypocrite sighed, and answered-- "Ah, my gracious Prince! I esteem it better to pray in silence beside your bed than to hold a loud chattering in your ears. Besides, when I am speaking to God I cannot, at the same time, answer your lady mother." This pleased the young man, and he pressed her little hand, and kissed it. And very shortly after, his strength returned to him wonderfully, so that her Grace and Sidonia only watched by him one night. The next day he fell into a profound sleep, and awoke from it perfectly recovered. In the meantime, the ghost became so daring and troublesome, that all the house stood in fear of it. Oftentimes it would be seen even in the clear morning light; and a maid, who had forgotten to make the bed of one of the grooms, and ran to the stables at night to finish her work, encountered the ghost there, and nearly died of fright. _Item_, Clara von Dewitz, one beautiful moonlight night, having gone out to take a turn up and down the corridor, because she could not sleep from the toothache, saw the apparition, just as day dawned, sinking down into the earth, not far from the chamber of Sidonia, to her great horror and astonishment. _Item_, her Grace, that very same night, having heard a noise in the corridor, opened her door, and there stood the ghost before her, leaning against a pillar. She was horror-struck, and clapped to her door hastily, but said nothing to the young Prince, for fear of alarming him. He had recovered, as I have said, in a most wonderful manner, and though still looking pale and haggard, yet his love for the maiden would not permit him to defer his visit to Crummyn any longer; particularly as it lay only half a mile from the castle, but on the opposite bank of the river, near the island of Usdom. Thereupon, on the fourth night, he descended to the little water-gate, having previously arranged with his chief equerry, Appelmann, to have a boat there in readiness for him, and also a good horse, to take across the ferry with them to the other side. So, at twelve o'clock, he and Appelmann embarked privately, with Johann Bruwer, the ferryman, and were safely landed at Mahlzow. Here he mounted his horse, and told the two others to await his return, and conceal themselves in the wood if any one approached. Appelmann begged permission to accompany his Highness, which, however, was denied; the young Prince charging them strictly to hold themselves concealed till his return, and never reveal to human being where they had conducted him this evening, on pain of his severe anger and loss of favour for ever; but if they held their secret close, he would recompense them at no distant time, in a manner even far beyond their hopes. So his Highness rode off to Crummyn, where all was darkness, except, indeed, one small ray of light that glanced from the lower windows of the cloister--for it was standing at that time. He dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and knocked at the window, through which he had a glimpse of an old woman, in nun's garments, who held a crucifix between her hands, and prayed. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What can you want here at such an hour?" "I am from Wolgast," he answered, "and must see the priest of Crummyn." "There is no priest here now." "But I have been told that a priest of the name of Neigialink lived here." _Illa_.--"He was a Lutheran swaddler and no priest, otherwise he would not live in open sin with a nun." "It is all the same to me; only come and show me the way." _Illa_.--"Was he a heathen or a true Christian?" His Highness could not make out what the old mother meant, but when he answered, "I am a Christian," she opened the door, and let him enter her cell. As she lifted up the lamp, however, she started back in terror at his young, pale, haggard face. Then, looking at his rich garments, she cried-- "This must be a son of good Duke Philip's, for never were two faces more alike." The Prince never imagined that the old mother could betray him, and therefore answered, "Yes; and now lead me to the priest." So the old mother began to lament over the downfall of the pure Christian doctrine, which his father, Duke Philip, had upheld so bravely. And if the young lord held the true faith (as she hoped by his saying he was a Christian), if so, then she would die happy, and the sooner the better--even if it were this night, for she was the last of all the sisterhood, all the other nuns having died of grief; and so she went on chattering. Prince Ernest regretted that he had not time to discourse with her upon the true faith, but would she tell him where the priest was to be found. _Illa_.--"She would take him to the parson, but he must first do her a service." "Whatever she desired, so that it would not detain him." _Illa_.--"It was on this night the vigil of the holy St. Bernard, their patron saint, was held; now, there was no one to light the altar candles for her, for her maid, who had grown old along with her, lay a-dying, and she was too old and weak herself to stretch up so high. And the idle Lutheran heretics of the town would mock, if they knew she worshipped God after the manner of her fathers. The old Lutheran swaddler, too, would not suffer it, if he knew she prayed in the church by nights. But she did not care for his anger, for she had a private key that let her in at all hours; and his Highness, the Prince, at her earnest prayers, had given her permission to pray in the church, at any time she pleased, from then till her death." So the old mother wept so bitterly, and kissed his Highness's hand, entreating him with such sad lamentations to remain with her until she said a prayer, that he consented. And she said, if the heretic parson came there to scold her, which of a surety he would, knowing that she never omitted a vigil, he could talk to him in the church, without going to disturb him and his harlot nun at their own residence. Besides, the church was the safest place to discourse in, for no one would notice them, and he would be able to protect her from the parson's anger besides. Here the old mother took up the church keys and a horn lantern, and led the young Prince through a narrow corridor up to the church door. Hardly, however, had she put the key in the lock, when the loud bark of a dog was heard inside, and they soon heard it scratching, and smelling, and growling at them close to the door. "What can that dog be here for?" said his Highness in alarm. "Alas!" answered the nun, "since the pure old religion was destroyed, profanity and covetousness have got the upper hand; so every church where even a single pious relic of the wealth of the good old times remains, must be guarded, as you see, by dogs. [Footnote: It is an undeniable fact, that the immorality of the people fearfully increased with the progress of the Reformation throughout Pomerania. An old chronicler, and a Protestant, thus testifies, 1542:--"And since this time (the Reformation) a great change has come over all things. In place of piety, we have profanity; in place of reverence, sacrilege and the plundering of God's churches; in place of alms-deeds, stinginess and selfishness; in place of feasts, greed and gluttony; in place of festivals, labour; in place of obedience and humility of children, obstinacy and self-opinion; in place of honour and veneration for the priesthood, contempt for the priest and the church ministers. So that one might justly assert that the preaching of the evangelism had made the people worse in place of better." Another Protestant preacher, John Borkmann, asserts, 1560:--"As for sin, it overflows all places and all stations. It is growing stronger in all offices, in all trades, in all employments, in every station of life--what shall I say more?--in every individual"--and so on. I would therefore recommend the blind eulogists of the good old times to examine history for themselves, and not to place implicit belief either in the pragmatical representations of the old and new Lutherans."] And she had herself locked up her pretty dog Störteback [Footnote: The name of a notorious northern pirate.] here, that no one might rob the altar of the golden candlesticks and the little jewels, at least as long as she lived." So she desired Störteback to lie still, and then entered the church with the Prince, who lit the altar candles for her, and then looked round with wonder on the silver lamps, the golden pix and caps, and other vessels adorned with jewels, used by the Papists in their ceremonies. The old mother, meanwhile, took off her white garment and black scapulary, and being thus naked almost to the waist, descended into a coffin, which was lying in a corner beside the altar. Here she groped till she brought up a crucifix, and a scourge of knotted cords. Then she kneeled down within the coffin, lashing herself with one hand till the blood flowed from her shoulders, and with the other holding up the crucifix, which she kissed from time to time, whilst she recited the hymn of the holy St. Bernard:-- "Salve caput cruentatum, Totum spinis coronatum, Conquassatum, vulneratum, Arundine verberatum Facie sputis illita." When she had thus prayed, and scourged herself a while, she extended the crucifix with her bleeding arm to the Prince, and prayed him, for the sake of God, to have compassion on her, and so would the bleeding Saviour and all the saints have compassion upon him at the last day. And when his Highness asked her what he could do for her, she besought him to bring her a priest from Grypswald, who could break the Lord's body once more for her, and give her the last sacrament of extreme unction here in her coffin. Then would she never wish to leave it, but die of joy if this only was granted to her. So the Prince promised to fulfil her wishes; whereupon she crouched down again in the coffin, and recommenced the scourging, while she repeated with loud sobs and groans the two last verses of the hymn. Scarcely had she ended when a small side-door opened, and the dog Störteback began to bark vociferously. "What!" exclaimed a voice, "is that old damned Catholic witch at her mummeries, and burning my good wax candles all for nothing?" And, silencing the dog, a man stepped forward hastily, but, seeing the Prince, paused in astonishment. Whereupon the old mother raised herself up out of the coffin, and said, "Did I not tell your Grace that you would see the hardhearted heretic here?--that is the man you seek." So the Prince brought him into the choir, and told him that he was Prince Ernest Ludovicus, and came here to request that he would privately wed him on the following night, without knowledge of any human being, to his beloved and affianced bride, Sidonia von Bork. The priest, however, did not care to mix himself up with such a business, seeing that he feared Ulrich mightily; but his Grace promised him a better living at the end of the year, if he would undertake to serve him now. To which the priest answered--"Who knows if your Highness will be alive by the end of the year, for you look as pale as a corpse?" "He never felt better in his life. He had been ill lately, but now was as sound as a fish. Would he not marry him?" _Hic_.--"Certainly not; unless he received a handsome consideration. He had a wife and dear children; what would become of them if he incurred the displeasure of that stern Lord Chamberlain and of the princely widow?" "But could he not bring his family to Stettin; for he and his young bride intended to fly there, and put themselves under the protection of his dear uncle, Duke Barnim?" _Hic_.--"It was a dangerous business; still, if his Highness gave him a thousand gulden down, and a written promise, signed and sealed, that he would provide him with a better living before the year had expired, why, out of love for the young lord, he would consent to peril himself and his family; but his Highness must not think evil of him for demanding the thousand gulden paid down immediately, for how were his dear wife and children to be supported through the long year otherwise?" His Highness, however, considered the sum too large, and said that his gracious mother had scarcely more a year for herself than a thousand gulden--she that was the Duchess of Pomerania. However, they finally agreed upon four hundred gulden; for his Highness showed him that Doctor Luther himself had only four hundred gulden a year, and surely he would not require more than the great _reformator ecclesia_. So everything was arranged at last, the priest promising to perform the ceremony on the third night from that; "For some time," he said, "would be necessary to collect people to assist them in their flight, and money must be distributed; but his Highness would, of course, repay all that he expended in his behalf, and further promise to give him and his family free quarters when they reached Stettin." After the ceremony, they could reach the boat through the convent garden, and sail away to Warte. [Footnote: A town near Usdom.] Then he would have four or five peasants in waiting, with carriages ready, to escort them to East Clune, from whence they could take another boat and cross the Haff into Stettin; for, as they could not reckon on a fair wind with any certainty, it was better to perform the journey half by land and half by water; besides, the fishermen whom he intended to employ were not accustomed to sail up the Peen the whole way into the Haff, for their little fishing-smacks were too slight to stand a strong current. Hereupon the Prince answered, that, since it was necessary, he would wait until the third night, when the priest should have everything in readiness, but meanwhile should confide the secret to no one. So he turned away, and comforted the old mother again with his promises as he passed out. The next morning, having written all down for Sidonia, and concealed the note in an arrow, he went forth as he had arranged, and began to tease the bear by shooting arrows at him, till the beast roared and shook his chain. Then, perceiving that Sidonia had observed him from the window, he watched a favourable opportunity, and shot the arrow up, right through her window, so that the pane of glass rattled down upon the floor. In the billet therein concealed he explained the whole plan of escape; and asked her to inform him, in return, how she could manage to come to him on the third night. Would his dearest Sidonia put on the dress of a page? He could bring it to her little chamber himself the next night. She must write a little note in answer, and conceal it in the arrow as he had done, then throw it out of the window, and he would be on the watch to pick it up. So Sidonia replied to him that she was content; but, as regarded the page's dress, he must leave it, about ten o'clock the next night, upon the beer-barrel in the corridor, but not attempt to bring it himself to her chamber. Concerning the manner in which she was to meet him on the third night, had he forgotten that the old castellan barred and bolted all that wing of the castle by eleven o'clock, so that she could never leave the corridor by the usual way; but there was a trapdoor near her little chamber which led down into the ducal stables, and this door no one ever thought of or minded--it was never bolted night or day, and was quite large enough for a man to creep through. Her dear Prince might wait for her, by that trap-door, at eleven o'clock on the appointed night. He could not mistake it, for the large basket lay close behind, in which her Grace kept her darling little kittens; from thence they could easily get into the outer courtyard, which was never locked, and, after that, go where they pleased. If he approved of this arrangement, let him shoot another arrow into her room; but, above all things, he was to keep at a distance from her during the day, that her Grace might not suspect anything. Having thrown the arrow out of the window, and received another in answer from the Prince, which the artful hypocrite flung out as if in great anger, she ran to Clara's room, and complained bitterly how the young lord had broken her window, because, forsooth, he must be shooting arrows at the bear; and so she had to come into her room out of the cold air, until the glazier came to put in the glass. When Clara asked how she could be so angry with the young Prince--did she not love him any longer?--Sidonia replied, that truly she had grown very tired of him, for he did nothing but sigh and groan whenever he came near her, like an asthmatic old woman, and had grown as thin and dry as a baked plum. There was nothing very lovable about him now. Would to Heaven that he were quite well, and she would soon bid farewell to the castle and every one in it; but the moment she spoke of going his sickness returned, so that she was obliged to remain, which was much against her inclination; and this she might tell Clara in confidence, because she had always been her truest friend. Then she pretended to weep, and cursed her beauty, which had brought her nothing but unhappiness; thereupon the tender-hearted Clara began to comfort her, and kissed her; and the moment Sidonia left her to get the glass mended, Clara ran to her Grace to tell her the joyful tidings; but, alas! that very day the wickedness of the artful maiden was brought to light. For what happened in the afternoon? See, the nun of Crummyn steps out of a boat at the little water-gate, and places herself in a corner of the courtyard, where the people soon gather round in a crowd, to laugh at her white garments and black scapulary; and the boys begin to pelt the poor old mother with stones, and abuse her, calling her the old Papist witch; but by good fortune the castellan comes by, and commands the crowd to leave off tormenting her, and then asks her business. _Illa._--"She must speak instantly to her Grace the princely widow." So the old man brings her to her Grace, with whom Clara was still conversing, and the old nun, after she had kneeled to the Duchess and kissed her hand, began to relate how her young lord, Prince Ernest, had been with her the night before, while she was keeping the _vigilia_ of holy St. Bernard to the best of her ability, and had urgently demanded to see the Lutheran priest named Neigialink, and that when this same priest came into the church to scold her, as was his wont, he and the Prince had retired into the choir, and there held a long conversation which she did not comprehend. But the priest's mistress had told her the whole business this morning, under a promise of secrecy--namely, that the priest, her leman, had promised to wed Prince Ernest privately, on the third night from that, to a certain young damsel named Sidonia von Bork. That the Prince had given him a thousand gulden for his services, and a promise of a rich living when he succeeded to the government, so that in future she could live as grand as an abbess, and have what beautiful horses she chose from the ducal stables. "And this," said the nun, "was told me by the priest's mistress; but as I have a true Pomeranian heart, although, indeed, the Prince has left the good old religion, I could not rest in peace until I stepped into a boat, weak and old as I am, and sailed off here direct to inform your Grace of the plot." She only asked one favour in return for her service. It was that her Grace would permit her to end the rest of her days peaceably in the cloister, and protect her from the harshness of the Lutheran priests and the fury of the mob, who fell on her like mad dogs here in the castle court, and would have torn her to pieces if the castellan had not come by and rescued her. But above all, she requested and prayed her Grace to permit a true priest to come to her from Grypswald, who could give her the holy Eucharist, and prepare her for death. But her Grace was struck dumb by astonishment and alarm, and Clara could not speak either, only wrung her hands in anguish. And her Grace continued to walk up and down the room weeping bitterly, until at last she sat down before her desk to indite a note to old Ulrich, praying for his presence without delay, and straightway despatched the chief equerry, Appelmann, with it to Spantekow. The old nun still continued crying, would not her Grace send her a priest? But her Grace refused; for in fact she was a stern upholder of the pure doctrine. Anything else the old mother demanded she might have, but with the abominations of Popery her Grace would have nothing to do. Still the old nun prayed and writhed at her feet, crying and groaning, "For the love of God, a priest! for the love of God, a priest!" but her Grace drew herself up stiff and stern, and let the old woman writhe there unheeded, until at length she motioned to Clara to have her removed to the courtyard, where the poor creature leaned up against the pump in bitter agony, and drew forth a crucifix from her bosom, kissed it, and looking up to heaven, cried, "Jesu! Jesu! art Thou come at last?" and then dropped down dead upon the pavement, which the crowd no sooner observed than they gathered round the corpse, screaming out, "The devil has carried her off! See! the devil has carried off the old Papist witch!" Hearing the uproar, her Grace descended, as did also the young lord and Sidonia, who both appeared as if they knew nothing at all about the old nun. And her Grace commanded that the executioner should by no means drag away the body, as the people demanded, who were now rushing to the spot from all quarters of the town, but that it should be decently lifted into the boat and conveyed back again to Crummyn, there to be interred with the other members of the sisterhood at the cloister. No word did she speak, either to her undutiful son or to Sidonia, about what she had heard; only when the latter asked her what the nun came there for, she answered coldly, "For a Popish priest." Hereupon the young Prince was filled with joy, concluding that nothing had been betrayed as yet. And it was natural the old nun should come with this request, seeing that she had made the same to him. Her Grace also strictly charged Clara to observe a profound silence upon all they had heard, until the old chamberlain arrived, and this she promised. CHAPTER XVII. _Of Ulrich's counsels--Item, how Clara von Dewitz came upon the track of the ghost._ At eleven o'clock that same night, the good and loyal Lord Ulrich arrived at the castle with Appelmann, from Spantekow, and just waited to change his travelling dress before he proceeded to the apartment of her Grace. He found her seated with Clara and another maiden, weeping bitterly. Dr. Gerschovius was also present. When the old man entered, her Grace's lamentations became yet louder--alas! how she was afflicted! Who could have believed that all this had come upon her because the devil, out of malice, had made Dr. Luther drop her wedding-ring at the bridal! And when the knight asked in alarm what had happened, she replied that tears prevented her speaking, but Dr. Gerschovius would tell him all. So the doctor related the whole affair, from the declaration of the old nun to the hypocritical conduct of Sidonia towards Clara von Dewitz, upon which the old knight shook his head, and said, "Did I not counsel your Grace to let the young lord die, in God's name, for better is it to lose life than honour. Had he died then, so would the Almighty have raised him pure and perfect at the last day, but now he is growing daily in wickedness as a young wolf in ferocity." Then her Grace made answer, the past could not now be recalled; and that she was ready to answer before God for what she had done through motherly love and tenderness. They must now advise her how to save her infatuated son from the snares of this wanton. Dr. Gerschovius, thereupon, gave it as his opinion that they should each be placed in strict confinement for the next fourteen days, during which time he would visit and admonish them twice a day, by which means he hoped soon to turn their hearts to God. Here old Ulrich laughed outright, and asked the doctor, was he still bent upon teaching Sidonia her catechism? As to the young lord, no admonition would do him good now; he was thoroughly bewitched by the girl, and though he made a hundred promises to give her up, would never hold one of them. Alas! alas! that the son of good Duke Philip should be so degenerate. But her Grace wept bitterly, and said, that never was there a more obedient, docile, and amiable child than her dear Ernest; skilled in all the fine arts, and gifted by nature with all that could ensure a mother's love. "But how does all this help him now?" cried Ulrich. "It is with a good heart as with a good ship, unless you guide it, it will run aground--stand by the helm, or the best ship will be lost. What had the country to expect from a Prince who would die, forsooth? unless his mistress sat by his bedside? Ah! if he could only have followed the funeral of the young lord, he would have given a hundred florins to the poor that very day!" "It was not her son's fault--that base hypocrite had caused it all by some hell magic." _Ille_.--"That was quite impossible; however, he would believe it to please her Grace." "Then let him speak his opinion, if the counsel of Dr. Gerschovius did not please him." _Ille_.--"His advice, then, was to keep quiet until the third night, then secretly place a guard round the castle and at the wing, and when the bridal party met, take them out prisoners, send my young lord to the tower, but disgrace Sidonia publicly, and send her off where she pleased--to the fiend, if she liked." "Then they would have the same old scene over again; her son would fall sick, and Sidonia could not be brought back to cure him, if once she had been publicly disgraced before all the people. So matters would be worse than ever." Hereupon old Ulrich fell into such a rage that he cursed and swore, that her Grace treated him no better than a fool, to bring him hither from Spantekow, and then refuse to take his advice. As to Sidonia, her Grace had already brought disgrace upon her princely house, by first turning her out, and then praying her to come back before three days had elapsed. All Pomerania talked of it, and old Otto Bork did not scruple to brag and boast everywhere, that her Grace had no peace or rest from her conscience until she had asked forgiveness from the Lady Sidonia (as the vain old knave called her) and entreated her to return. Now if she took the advice of Doctor Gerschovius, and first imprisoned and then turned away Sidonia, no one would believe in her story of the intended marriage, but look on her conduct as only a confirmation of all the hard treatment which her Grace was reported to have employed towards the girl; whereas if she only waited till the whole bridal party were ready to start, and then arrested Sidonia, her Grace was justified before the whole world, for what greater fault could be committed than thus to entrap the young Prince into a secret marriage, and run away with him by night from the castle? Let her Grace then send for the executioner, and let him give Sidonia a public whipping before all the people. No one would think the punishment too hard, for seducing a Prince of Pomerania into a marriage with her. So the princely widow of Duke Philip will be justified before all the world; and when the young lord sees his bride so disgraced, he will assuredly be right willing to give her up; even if he fall sick, it is impossible that he could send for a maiden to sit by his bed who had been publicly whipped by the executioner. Those were stern measures, perhaps, but a branch of the old Pomeranian tree was decayed; it must be lopped, or the whole tree itself would soon fall. When the Grand Chamberlain ceased speaking, her Grace considered the matter well, and finally pronounced that she would follow his advice, whereupon, as the night waxed late, she dismissed the party to their beds, retaining only Clara with her for a little longer. But a strange thing happened as she, too, finally quitted her Grace, and proceeded along the corridor to her own little apartment--and here let every one consider how the hand of God is in everything, and what great events He can bring forth from the slightest causes, as a great oak springs up from a little acorn. For as the maiden walked along, her sandal became unfastened, and tripped her, so that she nearly fell upon her face, whereupon she paused, and placing her foot upon a beer-barrel that stood against the wall not far from Sidonia's chamber, began to fasten it, but lo! just at that moment the head of the ghost appeared rising through the trap-door, and looked round, then, as if aware of her presence, drew back, and she heard a noise as if it had jumped down on the earth beneath. She was horribly frightened, and crept trembling to her bed; but then on reflecting over this apparition of the serpent knight, it came into her head that it could not be a ghost, since it came down on the ground with such a heavy jump; she prayed to God, therefore, to help her in discovering this matter, and as she could not sleep, rose before the first glimmer of daylight to examine this hole which lay so close to Sidonia's chamber, and there truly she discovered the trap-door, and having opened, found that it lay right over a large coach in the ducal stables; thereupon she concluded that the ghost was no other than the Prince himself who thus visited Sidonia. Then she remembered that the ghost had been particularly active while the young Prince lay sick on his bed watched by his mother; so to make the matter clearer she went the next evening into the stables, and observing the coach, which lay just beneath the hole, sprinkled fine ash-dust all round it. Then returning to her room, she waited until it grew quite dark, and as ten o'clock struck and all the doors of the corridor leading to the women's apartments were barred and bolted, she wrapped herself in a black mantle and stole out with a palpitating heart into the gallery. Remembering the large beer-barrel near Sidonia's room, she crouched down behind it, and from thence had a distinct view of the trap-door, and also of Sidonia's chamber. There she waited for about an hour, when she perceived the young Prince coming, but not through the trap-door. He knocked lightly at Sidonia's door, who opened it instantly, and they held a long whispering conversation together. He had brought her the page's dress, and there was nothing to be feared now, for he had examined the trap and found they could easily get out through it on the top of the coach, and from thence into the stables. After that the way was clear. Surely some good angel had put the idea into her head. Then he kissed her tenderly. _Illa_.--"What did the old nun come for? Could she have betrayed them?" _Hic_.--"Impossible. She did not know a syllable of their affairs, and had come to ask his lady mother to send her a Popish priest, as she had asked himself." Then he kissed her again, but she tore herself from his arms, threw the little bundle into the room, and shut the door in his face. Whereupon the young Prince went his way, sighing as if his heart would break. Now Clara concluded, with reason, that the young lord was not the ghost, inasmuch as he did not creep through the trap-door, nor did he wear helmet or cuirass, or any sort of disguise. But when she heard Sidonia talk with such knowledge of the trap-door, she guessed there was some knavery in the matter, and though she sat the night there she was determined to watch. And behold! at twelve o'clock there was a great clattering heard below, and presently a helmet appeared rising through the hole, and then the entire figure of the ghost clambered up through it, and after cautiously looking round it, approached Sidonia's door, and knocked lightly. Immediately she opened it herself, admitted the ghost, and Clara heard her drawing the bolts of the door within. The pious and chaste maiden felt ready to faint with shame; for it was now evident that Sidonia deceived the poor young Prince as well as every one else, and that this ghost whom she admitted must be a favoured lover. She resolved to watch until he came out. But it was about the dawn of morning before he again appeared, and took his hellish path down through the trap-door, in the same way as he had risen. But to make all certain she took a brush, and before it was quite day, descended to the stables, where, indeed, she observed large, heavy footprints in the ashes all round the coach, quite unlike those which the delicate little feet of his Highness would have made. So she swept them all clean away to avoid exciting any suspicion, and crept back noiselessly to her little room. Then waiting till the morning was somewhat advanced, she despatched her maid on some errand into the town, in order to get rid of her, and then watched anxiously for her bridegroom, Marcus Bork, who always passed her door going to his office; and hearing his step, she opened her door softly, and drew him in. Then she related fully all she had heard and seen on the past night. The upright and virtuous young man clasped his hands together in horror and disgust, but could not resolve whether it were fitter to declare the whole matter to her Highness instantly or not. Clara, however, was of opinion that her Grace would derive great comfort from the information, because when the Prince found how Sidonia had betrayed him, he would give up the creature of his own accord. To which Marcus answered, that probably the Prince would not believe a word of the story, and then matters would be in a worse way than ever. _Illa_.--"Was he afraid to disgrace Sidonia because she was his kinswoman? Was it the honour of his name he wished to shield by sparing her from infamy?" _Hic_.--"No; she wronged him. If she were his sister, he would still do his duty towards her Grace. The honour of the whole Pomeranian house was perilled here, and he would save it at any cost. But did his darling bride know who the ghost was?" _Illa_.--"No; she had been thinking the whole night about him till her head ached, but in vain." At this moment the Grand Chamberlain passed the room on his way to the Duchess, and they both went to the door, and entreated him to come in and give them his advice. How the old knight laughed for joy when he heard all; it was almost as good news to him as the death of the young lord would have been. But no; they must not breathe a syllable of it to her Highness. Wait for this night, and if the dear ghost appeared again, he would give him and his paramour something to think of to the end of their lives. Then he walked up and down Clara's little room, thinking over what should be done; and finally resolved to open the matter to the young Prince that night between ten and eleven o'clock, and show him what a creature he was going to make Duchess of Pomerania. After which they should all, Marcus included, go armed to the stables--for the Prince, no doubt, would be slow of belief--and there conceal themselves in the coach until the ghost arrived. If he came, as was almost certain, they would follow him to Sidonia's room, break it open, and discover them together. In order that witnesses might not be wanting, he would desire all the pages and household to be collected in his room at that hour; and the moment they were certain of having trapped the ghost, Marcus should slip out of the coach, and run to gather them all together in the grand corridor. To ensure all this being done, he would take the keys from the castellan himself that night, and keep them in his own possession. But, above all things, they were to keep still and quiet during the day; and now he would proceed to her Grace. But Marcus Bork begged to ask him, if the ghost did not come that night, what was to be done? For the next was to be that of the marriage, and unless the Prince was convinced by his own eyes, nothing would make him credit the wickedness of his intended bride. Sidonia would swear by heaven and earth that the story was a malicious invention, and a plot to effect her utter destruction. This view of the case puzzled the old knight not a little, and he rubbed his forehead and paced up and down the room, till suddenly an idea struck him, and he exclaimed--"I have it, Marcus! You are a brave youth, dear Marcus, and a loyal subject and servant to her Grace. Your conduct will bring as much honour upon the noble name of Bork as Sidonia's has brought disgrace. Therefore I will trust you. Listen, Marcus. If the ghost does not appear to-night, then you must ride the morrow morn to Crummyn. Bribe the priest with gold. Tell him that he must write instantly to the young Prince, saying, that the marriage must be delayed for eight days, for there was no boat to be had safe enough to carry him and his bride up the Haff, seeing that all the boats and their crews were engaged at the fisheries, and would not be back to Crummyn until the following Saturday. The young lord, therefore, must have patience. Should the priest hesitate, then Marcus must threaten him with the loss of his living, as the whole princely house should be made acquainted with his villainy. He will then consent. I know him well! "If that is once arranged, then we shall seat ourselves every night in the coach until the ghost comes; and, methinks, he will not long delay, since hitherto he has managed his work with such security and success." The discreet and virtuous Marcus promised to obey Ulrich in all things, and the Grand Chamberlain then went his way. CHAPTER XVIII. _How the horrible wickedness of Sidonia was made apparent; and how in consequence thereof she was banished with ignominy from the ducal court of Wolgast_. The night came at last. And the Grand Chamberlain collected, as he had said, all the officials and pages of the household together in his office at the treasury, and bid them wait there until he summoned them. No one was to leave the apartment under pain of his severe displeasure. _Item_, he had prayed her Grace not to retire to rest that night before twelve of the clock; and when she asked wherefore, he replied that she would have to take leave of a very remarkable visitor that night; upon which she desired to know more, but he said that his word was passed not to reveal more. So her Grace thought he meant himself, and promised to remain up. As ten o'clock struck, the castellan locked, up, as was his wont, all that portion of the castle leading to the women's apartments. Whereupon Ulrich asked him for the keys, saying that he would keep them in his own charge. Then he prayed his Serene Highness Prince Ernest to accompany him to the lumber-room. His Highness consented, and they both ascended in the dark. On entering, Ulrich drew forth a dark lantern from beneath his cloak, and made the light fall upon an old suit of armour. Then turning to the Prince--"Do you know this armour?" he said. "Ah, yes; it was the armour of his dearly beloved father, Duke Philip." _Ille_.--"Right. Did he then remember the admonitions which the wearer of this armour had uttered, upon his deathbed, to him and his brothers?" "Oh yes, well he remembered them; but what did this long sermon denote?" _Ille_.--"This he would soon know. Had he not given his right hand to the wearer of that armour, and pledged himself ever to set a good example before the people committed to his rule?" _Hic_.--"He did not know what all this meant. Had he even set a bad example to his subjects?" _Ille_.--"He was on the high-road to do it, when he had resolved to wed himself secretly to a maiden beneath his rank. (Here the young Prince became as pale as a corpse.) Let him deny, if he could, that he had sworn by his father's corpse, with his hand upon the coffin, to abandon Sidonia. He would not upbraid him with his broken promises to him, but would he bring his loving mother to her grave through shame and a broken heart? Would he make himself on a level with the lowest of the people, by wedding Sidonia the next night in the church at Crummyn?" _Hic_.--"Had that accursed Catholic nun then betrayed him? Ah, he was surrounded by spies and traitors; but if he could not obtain Sidonia now, he would wed her the moment he was of age and succeeded to the government. If he could in no way have Sidonia, then he would never wed another woman, but remain single and a dead branch for his whole life long. Her blood was as noble as his own, and no devil should dare to part them." _Ille.--"But if he could prove, this very night, to the young lord, that Sidonia was not an honourable maiden, but a dishonoured creature----" Here the young Prince drew his dagger and rushed upon the old man, with lips foaming with rage; but Ulrich sprang behind the armour of Duke Philip, and said calmly, "Ernest, if thou wouldst murder me who have been so leal and faithful a servant to thee and thine, then strike me dead here through the links of thy father's cuirass." And as the young man drew back with a deep groan, he continued--"Hear me, before thou dost a deed which eternity will not be long enough to repent. I cannot be angry with thee, for I have been young myself, and would have stricken any one to the earth who had called my own noble bride dishonoured. Listen to me, then, and strike me afterwards, if thou wilt." Hereupon the old knight stepped out from behind the armour, which was fixed upon a wooden frame in the middle of the apartment, with the helmet surmounting it, and leaning against the shoulder-piece, he proceeded to relate all that Clara had seen and heard. The young Prince turned first as red as scarlet, then pale as a corpse, and sunk down upon a pile of old armour, unable to utter anything but sighs and groans. Ulrich then asked if he remembered the silly youth who had been drowned lately in consequence of Sidonia's folly; for it was his apparition in the armour he then wore which it was reported haunted the castle. And did he remember also how that armour (in which the poor young man's father also had been killed fighting against the Bohemians) had been taken off the corpse and hung up again in that lumber-room? _Hic_.--"Of course he remembered all that; it had happened too lately for him to forget the circumstance." _Ille_.--"Well, then, let him take the lantern himself, and see if the armour hung still upon the wall." So the young lord took the lantern with trembling hands, and advanced to the place; but no--there was no armour there now. Then he looked all round the room, but the armour with the serpent crest was nowhere to be seen. He dropped the lantern with a bitter execration. Hereupon the old knight continued--"You see, my gracious Prince, that the ghost must have flesh and blood, like you or me. The castellan tells me that when the ghost first began his pranks, the helmet and cuirass were still found every morning in their usual place here. But for eight days they have not been forthcoming; for the ghost, you see, is growing hardy and forgetting his usual precautions. However, the castellan had determined to watch him, and seize hold of him, for, as he rightly conjectured, a spirit could not carry away a heavy iron suit of armour on him; but his wife had dissuaded him from those measures up to the present time. Come now to the stables with me," continued Ulrich, "and let us conceal ourselves in the coach which I mentioned to you; Marcus Bork shall accompany us, and let us wait there until the ghost appears, and creeps through the trapdoor. After some time we shall follow him; and then this wicked cheat will be detected. But before we move, swear to me that you will await the issue peaceably and calmly in the coach; you must neither sigh nor groan, nor scarcely breathe. No matter what you hear or see, if you cannot control your fierce, jealous rage, all will be lost." Then the young Prince gave him his hand, and promised to keep silence, though it should cost him his life, for no one could be more anxious to discover the truth or falsehood of this matter than he himself. So they both descended now to the courtyard, Ulrich concealing the lantern under his mantle; and they crouched along by the wall till they reached the horse-pond, where Marcus Bork stood awaiting them; then they glided on, one by one, into the stables, and concealed themselves within the coach. It was well they did so without longer delay, for scarcely had they been seated when the ghost appeared. No doubt he had heard of the intended marriage, and wished to take advantage of his last opportunity. As the sound of his feet became audible approaching the coach, the Prince almost groaned audibly; but the stout old knight threw one arm powerfully round his body, and placed the hand of the other firmly over his mouth. The ghost now began to ascend the coach, and they heard him clambering up the hind wheel; he slipped down, however (a bad omen), and muttered a half-curse; then, to help himself up better, he seized hold of the sash of the window, and with it took a grip of Ulrich's beard, as he was leaning close to the side of the coach to watch his proceedings. Not a stir did the brave old knight make, but sat as still as marble, and even held his breath, lest the ghost might feel it warm upon his hand, and so discover their ambuscade. At last he was up; and they heard him clattering over their heads, then creeping through the trap-door into the corridor, and a little after, the sound of a door gently opening. All efforts were in vain to keep the Prince quiet. He must follow him. He would rush through the trap-door after him, though it cost him his life! But old Ulrich whispered in his ear, "Now I know that Prince Ernest has neither honour nor discretion, and Pomerania has little to hope from such a ruler." All in vain--he springs out of the coach, but the knight after him, who hastily gave Marcus Bork the keys of the castle, and bade him go fetch the household, down to the menials, here to the gallery. Marcus took them, and left the stables instantly. Then Ulrich seized the hand of Prince Ernest, who was already on the top of the coach, and asked him was it thus he would, leave an old man without any one to assist him. Let him in first through the trap-door, while the Prince held the lantern. To this he consented, and helped the old knight up, who, having reached the trap-door, put his head through; but, alas! the portly stomach of the stout old knight would not follow. He stretched out his head, however, on every side, as far as it could go, and heard distinctly low whispering voices from Sidonia's little room; then a sound as of the tramp of many feet became audible in the courtyard, by which he knew that Marcus and the household were advancing rapidly. But the young lord, who was waiting at the top of the coach, grew impatient, and pulled him back, endeavouring to creep through the hole himself. Praised be Heaven, however, this he failed to do from weakness; so he was obliged to follow the Grand Chamberlain, who whispered to him to come down, and they could reach the corridor through the usual entrance. Hereupon they both left the stables, and met Marcus in the courtyard with his company. Then all ascended noiselessly to the gallery, and ranged themselves around Sidonia's door. Ulrich now told eight of the strongest carls present to step forward and lean their shoulders against the door, but make no stir until he gave a sign; then when he cried "Now!" they should burst it open with all their force. As to the young Prince, he was trembling like an aspen leaf, and his weakness was so great that two young men had to support him. In short, as all present gradually stole closer and closer up to the door of Sidonia's room, the old knight drew forth his lantern, and signed to the men, who stood with their shoulders pressed against it; then when all was ready, he cried "Now!" and the door burst open with a loud crash. Every lock, and bar, and bolt shivered to atoms, and in rushed the whole party, Ulrich at their head, with his lantern lifted high up above them all. Sidonia and her visitor were standing in the middle of the room. Ulrich first flashed the light upon the face of the man. Who would have believed it?--no other than Johann Appelmann! The knight hit him a heavy blow across the face, exclaiming, "What! thou common horse-jockey--thou low-born varlet--is it thus thou bringest disgrace upon a maiden of the noblest house in Pomerania? Ha, thou shalt be paid for this. Wait! Master Hansen shall give thee some of his gentle love-touches this night!" But meanwhile the young Prince had entered, and beheld Sidonia, as she stood there trembling from shame, and endeavouring to cover her face with her long, beautiful golden hair that fell almost to her knees. "Sidonia!" he exclaimed, with a cry as bitter as if a dagger had passed through his heart--"Sidonia!" and fell insensible before her. Now a great clamour arose amongst the crowd, for beside the couch lay the helmet and cuirass of the ghost; so every one knew now who it was that had played this trick on them for so long, and kept the castle in such a state of terror. Then they gathered round the poor young Prince, who lay there as stiff as a corpse, and lamented over him with loud lamentations, and some of them lifted him up to carry him out of the chamber; but the Grand Chamberlain sternly commanded them to lay him down again before his bride, whom he had arranged to wed privately at Crummyn on the following night. Then seizing Sidonia by the hand, and dashing back her long hair, he led her forward before all the people, and said with a loud voice, "See here the illustrious and high-born Lady Sidonia, of the holy Roman Empire, Duchess of Pomerania, Cassuben, and Wenden, Princess of Rügen, Countess of Gützkow, and our Serene and most Gracious Lady, how she honours the princely house of Pomerania by sharing her love with this stable groom, this tailor's son, this debauched profligate! Oh! I could grow mad when I think of this disgrace. Thou shameless one! have I not long ago given thee thy right name? But wait--the name shall be branded on thee this night, so that all the world may read it." Just then her Grace entered with Clara, followed by all the other maids of honour; for, hearing the noise and tumult, they had hastened thither as they were, some half undressed, others with only a loose night-robe flung round them. And her Grace, seeing the young lord lying pale and insensible on the ground, wrung her hands and cried out, "Who has killed my son? who has murdered my darling child?" Here stepped forward Ulrich, and said, "The young lord was not dead; but, if it so pleased God, was in a fair way now to regain both life and reason." Then he related all which had led to this discovery; and how they had that night been themselves the witnesses of Sidonia's wickedness with the false ghost. Now her Grace knew his secret, which he had not told until certain of success. As he related all these things, her Grace turned upon Sidonia and spat on her; and the young lord, having recovered somewhat in consequence of the water they had thrown on him, cried out, "Sidonia! is it possible? No, Sidonia, it is not possible!" The shameless hypocrite had now recovered her self-possession, and would have denied all knowledge of Appelmann, saying that he forced himself in when she chanced to open the door; but he, interrupting her, cried, "Does the girl dare to lay all the blame on me? Did you not press my hand there when you were lying after you fell from the stag? Did you not meet me afterwards in the lumber-room--that day of the hunt when Duke Barnim was here last?" "No, no, no!" shrieked Sidonia. "It is a lie, an infamous lie!" But he answered, "Scream as you will, you cannot deny that this disguise of the ghost was your own invention to favour my visits to you. Did you not drop notes for me down on the coach, through the trap-door, fixing the nights when I might come? and bethink you of last night, when you sent me a note by your maid, wrapped up in a little horse-cloth which I had lent you for your cat, with the prayer that I would not fail to be with you that night nor the next"--Oh, just Heaven! to think that it was upon that very night that Clara should break her shoe-string, by which means the Almighty turned away ruin and disgrace from the ancient, illustrious, and princely house of Pomerania--all by a broken shoe-string! For if the ghost had remained away but that one night, or Clara had not broken her shoestring, Sidonia would have been Duchess of Pomerania; but what doth the Scripture say? "Man's goings are of the Lord. What man understandeth his own way?" (Prov. xx. 24). When Sidonia heard him tell all this, and how she had written notes of entreaty to him, she screamed aloud, and springing at him like a wild-cat, buried her ten nails in his hair, shrieking, "Thou liest, traitor; it is false! it is false!" Now Ulrich rushed forward, and seized her by her long hair to part them, but at that moment Master Hansen, the executioner, entered in his red cloak, with six assistants (for Ulrich had privately sent for him), and the Grand Chamberlain instantly let go his hold of Sidonia, saying, "You come in good time, Master Hansen; take away this wretched pair, lock them up in the bastion tower, and on the morn bring them to the horse-market by ten of the clock, and there scourge and brand them; then carry them both to the frontier out of our good State of Wolgast, and let them both go their ways from that, whither it may please them." When Sidonia heard this, she let go her paramour and fell fainting upon the bed; but recovering herself in a little time, she exclaimed, "What is this you talk of? A noble maiden who is as innocent as the child in its cradle, to be scourged by the common executioner? Oh, is there no Christian heart here to take pity on a poor, helpless girl! Gracious young Prince, even if all the world hold me guilty, you cannot, no, you cannot; it is impossible!" Hereupon the young lord began to tremble like an aspen leaf, and said in a broken voice, "Alas, Sidonia! you betrayed yourself: if you had not mentioned that trap-door to me, I might still have believed you innocent (I, who thought some good angel had guided you to it!); now it is impossible; yet be comforted, the executioner shall never scourge you nor brand you--you are branded enough already." Then turning to the Grand Chamberlain he said, that with his consent a hangman should never lay his hands upon this nobly born maiden, whom he had once destined to be Duchess of Pomerania; but Appelmann, this base-born vassal, who had eaten of his bread and then betrayed him like a Judas, let him be flogged and branded as much as they pleased; no word of his should save the accursed seducer from punishment. Notwithstanding this, old Ulrich was determined on having Sidonia scourged, and my gracious lady the Duchess must have her scourged too. "Let her dear son only think that if the all-merciful God had not interposed, he would have been utterly ruined and his princely house disgraced, by means of this girl. Nothing but evil had she brought with her since first she set foot in the castle: she had caused his sickness; item, the death of two young knights by drowning; item, the terrible execution of Joachim Budde, who was beheaded at the festival; and had she not, in addition, whipped her dear little Casimir, which unseemly act had only lately come to her knowledge? and had she not also made every man in the castle that approached her mad for love of her, all by her diabolical conduct? No--away with the wretch: she merits her chastisement a thousand and a thousand-fold!" And old Ulrich exclaimed likewise, "Away with the wretch and her paramour!" Here the young lord made an effort to spring forward to save her, but fell fainting on the ground; and while the attendants were busy running for water to throw over him, Clara von Dewitz, turning away the executioner with her hand from Sidonia, fell down on her knees before her Grace, and besought her to spare at least the person of the poor, unfortunate maiden; did her Grace think that any punishment could exceed what she had already suffered? Let her own compassionate heart plead along with her words--and did not the Scripture say, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord." Hereupon her Grace looked at old Ulrich without speaking; but he understood her glance, and made answer--"No; the hangman must do his duty towards the wretch!" when her Grace said mildly, "But for the sake of this dear, good young maiden, I think we might let her go, for, remember, if she had not opened out this villainy to us, the creature would have been my daughter-in-law, and my princely house disgraced for evermore." Now Marcus Bork stepped forward, and added his prayers that the noble name he bore might not be disgraced in Sidonia. "He had ever been a faithful feudal vassal to her princely house, and had not even scrupled to bring the secret wicked deeds of his cousin before the light of day, though it was like a martyrdom of his own flesh and blood for conscience' sake." Here old Ulrich burst forth in great haste--"Seven thousand devils! Let the wench be off, then. Not another night should she rest in the castle. Let her speak--where would she go to? where should they bring her to?" And when Sidonia answered, sobbing, "To Stettin, to her gracious lord, Duke Barnim, who would take pity on her because of her innocence," Ulrich laughed outright in scorn. "I shall give the driver a letter to him, and another to thy father. Perhaps his Grace will show thee true pity, and drive thee with his horsewhip to Stramehl. But thou shalt journey in the same coach whereon thy leman clambered up to the trap-door, and Master Hansen shall sit on the coach-box and drive thee himself. As to thy darling stablegroom here, the master must set his mark on him before he goes; but that can be done when the hangman returns from Stettin." When Appelmann heard this, he fell at the feet of the Lord Chamberlain, imploring him to let him off too. "Had he not ridden to Spantekow, without stop or stay, at the peril of his life, to oblige Lord Ulrich that time the Lapland wizard made the evil prophecy; and though his illustrious lady died, yet that was from no fault of his, and his lordship had then promised not to forget him if he were but in need. So now he demanded, on the strength of his knightly word, that a horse should be given him from the ducal stables, and that he be permitted to go forth, free and scathless, to ride wherever it might please him. His sins were truly heavy upon him, and he would try and do better, with the help of God." When the old knight heard him express himself in this godly sort (for the knave knew his man well), he was melted to compassion, and said, "Then go thy way, and God give thee grace to repent of thy manifold sins." Her Grace had nothing to object; only to put a fixed barrier between the Prince and Sidonia, she added, "But send first for Dr. Gerschovius, that he may unite this shameless pair in marriage before they leave the castle, and then they can travel away together." Hereupon Johann Appelmann exclaimed, "No, never! How could he hope for God's grace to amend him, living with a thing like that, tied to him for life, which God and man alike hold in abhorrence?" At this speech Sidonia screamed aloud, "Thou lying and accursed stable-groom, darest thou speak so of a castle and land dowered maiden?" and she flew at him, and would have torn his hair, but Marcus Bork seized hold of her round the waist, and dragged her with great effort into Clara's room. Now the tears poured from the eyes of her Grace at such a disgraceful scene, and she turned to her son, who was slowly recovering--"Hast thou heard, Ernest, this groom--this servant of thine--refuses to take the girl to wife whom thou wast going to make Duchess of Pomerania? Woe! woe! what words for thy poor mother to hear; but it was all foreshadowed when Dr. Luther--" &c. &c. In short, the end of the infamous story was, that Sidonia was carried off that very night in the identical coach we know of, and Master Hansen was sent with her, bearing letters to the Duke and Otto from the Grand Chamberlain, and one also to the burgomaster Appelmann in Stargard; and the executioner had strict orders to drive her himself the whole way to Stettin. As for Appelmann, he sprung upon a Friesland clipper, as the old chamberlain had permitted, and rode away that same night. But the young lord was so ill from grief and shame, that he was lifted to his bed, and all the _medici_ of Grypswald and Wolgast were summoned to attend him. And such was the end of Sidonia von Bork at the ducal court of Wolgast. But old Küssow told me that for a long while she was the whole talk of the court and town, many wondering, though they knew well her light behaviour, that she should give herself up to perdition at last for a common groom, no better than a menial compared to her. But I find the old proverb is true for her as well as for another, "The apple falls close to the tree; as is the sheep, so is the lamb;" for had her father brought her up in the fear of God, in place of encouraging her in revenge, pride, and haughtiness, Sidonia might have been a good and honoured wife for her life long. But the libertine example of her father so destroyed all natural instincts of modesty and maidenly reserve within her, that she fell an easy prey to the first temptation. In short, my gracious Prince Bogislaus XIV., as well as all those who love and honour the illustrious house of Wolgast, will devoutly thank God for having turned away this disgrace in a manner so truly wonderful. I have already spoken of the broken shoe-tie, but in addition, I must point out that if Sidonia had counselled her paramour to take the armour of Duke Philip, which hung in the same lumber-room, in place of that belonging to the serpent knight, that wickedness would never have come to light. For assuredly all in the castle would have believed that it was truly the ghost of the dead duke, who came to reproach his son for not holding the oath which he had sworn on his coffin, to abandon Sidonia. And consequently, respect and terror would have alike prevented any human soul in the castle from daring to follow it, and investigate its object. Therefore let us praise the name of the Lord who turned all things to good, and fulfilled, in Sidonia and her lover, the Scripture which saith, "Thinking themselves wise, they became fools" (Rom. i. 21). END OF FIRST BOOK. BOOK II. FROM THE BANISHMENT OF SIDONIA FROM THE DUCAL COURT OF WOLGAST UP TO HER RECEPTION IN THE CONVENT OF MARIENFLIESS. CHAPTER I. _Of the quarrel between Otto Bork and the Stargardians, which caused him to demand the dues upon the Jena._ MOST EMINENT AND ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE!--Your Grace must be informed, that much of what I have here set down, in this second book, was communicated to me by that same old Uckermann of Dalow of whom I have spoken already in my first volume. Other important facts I have gleaned from the Diary of Magdalena von Petersdorfin, _Priorissa_ of the convent of Marienfliess. She was an old and worthy matron, whom Sidonia, however, used to mock and insult, calling her the old cat, and such-like names. But she revenged herself on the shameless wanton in no other way than by writing down what facts she could collect of her disgraceful life and courses, for the admonition and warning of the holy sisterhood. This little book the pious nun left to her sister Sophia, who is still living in the convent at Marienfliess; and she, at my earnest entreaties, permitted me to peruse it. Before, however, I continue the relation of Sidonia's adventures, I must state to your Grace what were the circumstances which induced Otto von Bork to demand so urgently the dues upon the Jena from their Highnesses of Stettin and Wolgast. In my opinion, it was for nothing else than to revenge himself upon the burgomaster of Stargard, Jacob Appelmann, father of the equerry. The quarrel happened years before, but Otto never forgot it, and only waited a fitting opportunity to take vengeance on him and the people of Stargard. This Jacob Appelmann was entitled to receive a great portion of the Jena dues, which were principally paid to him in kind, particularly in foreign spices, which he afterwards sold to the Polish Jews, at the annual fair held in Stramehl. It happened, upon one of these occasions, as Jacob, with two of his porters, appeared, as usual, carrying bags of spices, to sell to the Polish Jews, that Otto met him in the market-place, and invited him to come up to his castle, for that many nobles were assembled there who would, no doubt, give him better prices for his goods than the Polish Jews, and added that the worthy burgomaster must drink his health with him that day. Now, Jacob Appelmann was no despiser of good cheer or of broad gold pieces; so, unfortunately for himself, he accepted the invitation. But the knight had only lured him up to the castle to insult and mock him. For when he entered the hall, a loud roar of laughter greeted his appearance, and the half-drunk guests, who were swilling the wine as if they had tuns to fill, and not stomachs, swore that he must pledge each of them separately, in a lusty draught. So they handed him an enormous becker, cut with Otto's arms, bidding him drain it; but as the Herr Jacob hesitated, his host asked him, laughing, was he a Jesu disciple, that he refused to drink? Hereupon the other answered, he was too old for a disciple, but he was not ashamed to call himself a servant of Jesus. Then they all roared with laughter, and Otto spoke-- "My good lords and dear friends, ye know how that the Stargard knaves joined with the Pomeranian Duke to ravage my good town of Stramehl, so that it can be only called a village now. And it is also not unknown to you that my disgrace then passed into a proverb, so that people will still say, 'He fell upon me as the Stargardians upon Stramehl.' Let us, then, revenge ourselves to-day. If this Jesu's servant will not drink, then tear open his mouth, put a tun-dish therein, and pour down a good draught till the knave cries 'enough!' As to his spices, let us scatter them before the Polish Jews, as pease before swine, and it will be merry pastime to see how the beasts will lick them up. Thus will Stramehl retort upon Stargard, and the whole land will shout with laughter. For wherefore does this Stargard pedlar come here to my fairs? Mayhap I shall visit his." Peals of laughter and applause greeted Otto's speech; but Jacob, when he heard it, determined, if possible, to effect his escape; and watching his opportunity, for he was the only one there not drunk, sprang out of the hall, and down the flight of steps, and being young then, never drew breath till he reached the market-place of Stramehl, and jumped into his own waggon. In vain Otto screamed out to "stop him, stop him!" all his servants were at the fair, where, indeed, the people of the whole country round were gathered. Then the host and the guests sprang up themselves, to run after Jacob Appelmann, but many could not stand, and others tumbled down by the way. However, with a chorus of cries, curses, and threats, Otto and some others at last reached the waggon, and laid hold of it. Then they dragged out the bags of spices, and emptied them all down upon the street, crying-- "Come hither, ye Jews; which of you wants pepper? Who wants cloves?" So all the Jews in the place ran together, and down they went on all-fours picking up the spices, while their long beards swept the pavement quite clean. Hey! how they pushed and screamed, and dealt blows about among themselves, till their noses bled, and the place looked as if gamecocks had been fighting there, whereat Otto and his roistering guests roared with laughter. One of the bags they pulled out of the waggon contained cinnamon; but a huntsman of Otto Bork's, not knowing what it was, poured it down likewise into the street. Cinnamon was then so rare, that it sold for its weight in gold. So an old Jew, spying the precious morsel, cried out, "Praise be to God! Praise be to God!" and ran through Otto Bork's legs to get hold of a stick of it. This made the knight look down, and seeing the cinnamon, he straightway bid the huntsman gather it all up again quick, and carry it safely home to the castle. But the old Jew would by no means let go his hold of the booty, and kept the sticks in one hand high above his head, while with the other he dealt heavy buffets upon the huntsman. An apprentice of Jacob Appelmann's beheld all this from the waggon, and knowing what a costly thing this cinnamon was, he made a long arm out of the waggon, and snapped away the sticks from the Jew. Upon this the huntsman sprang at the apprentice; but the latter, seizing a pair of pot-hooks, which his master had that day bought in the fair, dealt such a blow with them upon the head of the huntsman, that he fell down at once upon the ground quite dead. Now every one cried out "Murder! murder! Jodute! Jodute! Jodute!" and they tore the bags right and left from the waggon, Jews as well as Christians; but Otto commanded them to seize the apprentice also. So they dragged him out too. He was a fine young man of twenty-three, Louis Griepentroch by name. There was such an uproar, that the men who held the horses' heads were forced away. Whereupon the burgomaster resolved to seize this opportunity for escape; and without heeding the lamentations of the other apprentice, Zabel Griepentroch, who prayed him earnestly to stop and save his poor brother, desired the driver to lash the horses into a gallop, and never stop nor stay until the unlucky town was left far behind them. Otto von Bork ordered instant pursuit, but in vain. The burgomaster could not be overtaken, and reached Wangerin in safety. There he put up at the inn, to give the panting horses breathing-time; and now the aforesaid Zabel besought him, with many tears, to write to Otto Bork on behalf of his poor brother, to which the burgomaster at last consented; for he loved these two youths, who were orphans and twins, and he had brought them up from their childhood, and treated them in all things like a true and loving godfather. So he wrote to Otto, "That if aught of ill happened to the young Louis Griepentroch, he (the burgomaster) would complain to his Grace of Stettin, for the youth had only done his duty in trying to save the property of his master from the hands of robbers." The good Jacob, however, admonished Zabel to make up his mind for the worst, for the knight was not a man whose heart could be melted, as he himself had experienced but too well that day. But the sorrowing youth little heeded the admonitions, only seized the letter, and ran with it that same evening back to Stramehl. Here, however, no one would listen to him, no one heeded him; and when at last he got up to Otto and gave him the letter, the knight swore he would flay him alive if he did not instantly quit the town. Now the poor youth gnashed his teeth in rage and despair, and determined to be revenged on the knight. Just then came by a great crowd leading his brother Louis to the gallows; and on his head they had stuck a high paper cap with the Stargard arms painted thereon, namely, a tower with two griffins (Sidonia, indeed, had painted it, and she was by, and clapping her hands with delight); and for the greater scandal to Stargard, they had tied two hares' tails to the back of the cap, with the inscription written in large letters above them--"So came the Stargardians to Stramehl!" And Otto and his guests gathered round the gallows, and all the market-folk, with great uproar and laughter. _Summa_, when the poor carl saw all this, and that there was no hope for his heart's dear brother, neither could he even get near him just to say a last "good-night," he ran like mad to the castle, which was almost empty now, as every one had gone to the market-place; and there, on the hill, he turned round and saw how the hangman had shoved his dear Louis from the ladder, and the body was swinging lamentably to and fro between heaven and earth. So he seized a brand and set fire to the brew-house, from which a thick smoke and light flames soon rose high into the air. Now all the people rushed towards the castle, for they suspected well who had done the deed, particularly as they had observed a young fellow running, as if for life or death, in the opposite direction towards the open country. So they pursued him with wild shouts from every direction; right and left they hemmed him in, and cut off his escape to the wood. And Otto Bork sprang upon a fresh horse, and galloped along with them, roaring out, "Seize the rascal!--seize the vile incendiary! He who takes him shall have a tun of my best beer!" But others he despatched to the castle to extinguish the flames. Now the poor Zabel knew not what to do, for on every side his pursuers were gaining fast upon him, and he heard Otto's voice close behind crying, "There he runs! there he runs! Seize the gallows-bird, that he may swing with his brother this night. A tun of my best beer to the man who takes him! Seize the incendiary!" So the poor wretch, in his anguish, threw off his smock upon the grass and sprang into the lake, hoping to be able to swim to the other side and reach the wood. "In after him!" roared Otto; and a fellow jumped in instantly, and seizing hold of Zabel by the hose, dragged him along with him; but they were soon both carried into deep water--Zabel, however, was the uppermost, and held the other down tight to stifle him. Another seeing this, plunged in to rescue his companion, and from the bank dived down underneath Zabel, intending to seize him round the body; but it so happened that the fishermen of Stramehl had laid their nets close to the place, and he plunged direct into the middle of the largest, and stuck there miserably; which when Zabel observed, he let the other go, who was now quite dead, and struck out boldly for the opposite bank. The fishermen sprang into their boats to pursue him, and the crowd ran round, hoping to cut off the pass before he could gain the bank; but he was a brave youth, and distanced them all, jumped on land before one of them could reach him, and plunged into the thick wood. Here it was vain to follow him, for night was coming on fast; so he pursued his path in safety, and returned to his master at Stramehl. Otto von Bork, however, would not let the matter rest here, for he had sustained great loss by the burning of his brew-house (the other buildings were saved); therefore he wrote to the honourable council at Stargard--"That by the shameful and scandalous burning of his brew-house, he had lost two fine hounds named Stargard and Stramehl, which he had brought himself from Silesia; _item_, two old servants and a woman; _item_, in the lake, two other servants had been drowned; and all by the revenge of an apprentice, because he had justly caused his brother to be executed. Therefore this apprentice must be given up to him, that he might have him broken on the wheel, otherwise their vassals on the Jena should suffer in such a sort, that the Stargardians would long have reason to remember Otto Bork." Now, some of the honourable councillors were of opinion that they should by no means give up the apprentice; first, because Otto had insulted the Stargard arms, and secondly, lest it might appear as if they feared he would fulfil his threats respecting the Jena. But Jacob Appelmann, the burgomaster, who lay sick in his bed from the treatment he had received at Stramehl, entirely disapproved of this resolution; and when they came to him for his advice, proposed to give for answer to the knight that he should first indemnify him for the loss of his costly spices, which he valued at one thousand florins, and when this sum was paid down, they might treat of the matter concerning the apprentice. The knight, however, mocked them for making such an absurd demand as compensation, and reiterated his threats, that if the young man were not delivered up to him, he would punish Stargard with a great punishment. The council, however, were still determined not to yield; and as the burgomaster lay sick in his bed, they released the apprentice from prison; and replied to Otto, "That if he broke the public peace of his Imperial Majesty, let the consequences fall on his own head--there was still justice for them to be had in Pomerania." When the burgomaster heard of this, he had himself carried in a litter, sick as he was, to the honourable council, and asked them, "Was this justice, to release an incendiary from prison? If they sought justice for themselves, let them deal it out to others. No one had lost more by the transaction than he: his income for the next two years was clean gone, and the care and anxiety he had undergone, besides, had reduced him to this state of bodily weakness which they observed. It was a heart-grief to him to give up the young man, for he had reared him from the baptism water, and he had been a faithful servant unto him up to this day. Could he save him, he would gladly give up his house and all he was worth, and go and take a lodging upon the wall; for this young man had once saved his life, by slaying a mad dog which had seized him by the tail of his coat; but it was not to be done. They must set an honourable example, as just and upright citizens and fearless magistrates, who hold that old saying in honour--'_Fiat justitia et pereat mundus_;' which means, 'Let justice be done, though life and fortune perish.' But the punishment of the wheel was, he confessed, altogether too severe for the poor youth; and therefore he counselled that they should hang him, as Otto had hung his brother." This course the honourable society consented at last to adopt; but the knight had disgraced their arms, and they ought in return to disgrace his. They could get the court painter from Stettin at the public expense, and let him paint Otto Bork's arms on the back of the young man's hose. Here the burgomaster again interfered--"Why should the honourable council attempt a stupid insult, because the knight had done so?" But he talked in vain; they were determined on this retaliation. At last (but after a great deal of trouble) he obtained a promise that they would have the arms painted before, upon his smock, and not behind, upon the hose, for that would be a sore disgrace to Otto, and bring his vengeance upon them. "Why should they do more to him than he had done unto them? The Scripture said, 'Eye for eye, tooth for tooth,' and not two eyes for an eye, two teeth for a tooth." Hereupon the honourable council pronounced sentence on the young man, and fixed the third day from that for his execution. But first the executioner must bring him up before the bed of the burgomaster, who thus spoke--"Ah, Zabel, wherefore didst thou not behave as I admonished thee in Wangerin?" And as the young man began to weep, he gave him his hand, and admonished him to be steadfast in the death-hour, asked his forgiveness for having condemned him, but it was his duty as a magistrate so to do--thanked him for having saved his life by slaying the mad dog; finally, bid him "Good-night," and then buried his face in the pillow. So the hangman carried back the weeping youth to the council-hall, where the honourable councillors had the Bork arms fastened upon his smock, and out of further malice against Otto (for they knew the burgomaster, being sick in his bed, could not hinder them), they placed over them a large piece of pasteboard, on which was written, "So did the Stargardians with Stramehl." _Item_, they fastened to the two corners a pair of wolf's ears, because Bork, in the Wendig tongue, signifies wolf. This was to revenge themselves for the hares' tails. Then the poor apprentice was carried to the gallows, amid loud laughter from the common people. And even the honourable councillors waxed merry at the sight; and as the hangman pushed him from the ladder, they cried out, "So will the Stargardians do to Stramehl!" Now Otto heard tidings of all these doings, but he feared to complain to his Highness the Duke, because he himself had begun the quarrel, and they had only retorted as was fair. _Item_, he did not dare to stop the boats upon the Jena--for he knew that although Duke Barnim was usually of a soft and placable temper, yet when he was roused there was no more dangerous enemy. And if the Stargardians leagued with him, they might fall upon his town of Stramehl, as they had done once before. Therefore he waited patiently for an opportunity of revenge, and held his peace until Sidonia acquainted him with the love of the young Prince Ernest. Then he resolved to demand the dues upon the Jena to be given up to him, and if his wicked desire had been gratified, I think the good citizens of Stargard might have taken to the beggar's staff for the rest of their days, for like all the old Hanseatic towns, their entire subsistence came to them by water, and all their wares and merchandise were carried up the Jena in boats to the town. These the knight would have rated so highly, if he had been made owner of the dues, that the town and people would have been utterly ruined. It has been already stated that the Duke Barnim gave an ambiguous answer to Otto upon the subject; but the knight, after his visit to Wolgast, was so certain of seeing his daughter in a short time Duchess of Pomerania, that he already looked upon the Jena dues as his own, and proceeded to act as shall be related in the next chapter. CHAPTER II. _How Otto von Bork demands the Jena dues from the Stargardians, and how the burgomaster Jacob Appelmann takes him prisoner, and locks him up in the Red Sea._ [Footnote: A watch-tower, built in the Moorish style, upon the town wall of Stargard, from which the adjacent streets take their name.] As the aforesaid knight and my gracious lord, Duke Barnim, journeyed home from Wolgast, the former discoursed much on this matter of the Jena dues, but his Grace listened in silence, after his manner, and nicked away at his doll. (I think, however, that his Grace did not quite understand the matter of the Jena dues himself.) _Summa_, while Otto was at Stettin, he received information that three vessels, laden with wine and spices, and all manner of merchandise, were on their way to Stargard. So he took this for a good sign, and went straight to the town and up to the burgomaster, Jacob Appelmann, would not sit down, however, but made himself as stiff as if his back would break, and asked whether he (Appelmann) was aware that the lands of the Bork family bordered close upon the Jena. _Ille._--"Yes, he knew it well." _Hic._--"Then he could not wonder if he now demanded dues from every vessel that went up to Stargard." _Ille._--"On the contrary, he would wonder greatly; since by an Act passed in the reign of Duke Barnim the First, A.D. 1243, the freedom of the Jena had been secured to them, and they had enjoyed it up to the present date." _Hic_.--"Stuff! what was the use of bringing up these old Acts. His Grace of Stettin, as well as the Duchess of Wolgast, had now given them over to him." _Ille_.--"Then let his lordship produce his charter; if he had got one, why not show it?" _Hic_.--"No, he had not got the written order yet, but he would soon have it." _Ille_.--"Well, until then they would abide by the old law." _Hic_.--"By no means. This very day he would insist on being paid the dues." _Ille_.--"That meant, that he purposed to break the peace of our lord the Emperor. Let him think well of it. It might cost him dear." _Hic_.--"That was his care. The Stargardians should not a second time hang his arms on the gallows." _Ille_.--"It was a simple act of retaliation; had he not read, 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'?" _Hic_.--"Nonsense! was that retaliation, when a set of low burgher carls took upon themselves to disgrace the lord of castles and lands; as well might one of his serfs, when he struck him, strike him in return; that would be retaliation too. Ha! ha! ha!" _Ille_.--"What did his lordship mean? He was no village justice, nor were the burghers of this good town serfs or boors." _Hic_.--"If he knew not now what he meant, he would soon learn; ay, and take off his hat so low to the Bork arms that it would touch the ground. Then, too, he might himself get a lesson in retaliation." And herewith the knight strode firmly out of the room, without even saluting the burgomaster; but Jacob knew well how to deal with him, so he sent instantly for the keeper of the forest, who lived in the thick wood on the banks of the Jena, and told him to watch by night and day, and if he observed anything unusual going on, to spring upon a horse and bring him the intelligence without delay. Meanwhile the knight summoned all his feudal vassals around him at Stramehl, and told them how his Grace had bestowed the Jena dues upon him, but the sturdy burghers of Stargard had dared to impugn his rights; therefore let each of them select two trusty followers, and meet all together on the morrow morn at Putzerlin, close to the Jena ferry. Then, if there came by any vessels laden with choice wines, let them be sure and drink a health to Stargard. So they all believed him, and came to the appointed place with twenty horsemen, and the knight himself brought twenty more. There they unsaddled and turned into the meadow, then set to work to throw a bridge over the river. As soon as the forest ranger spied them, he saddled his wild clipper, which he himself had caught in the Uckermund country, and flew like wind to the town (for the wild horses are much stouter and fleeter than the tame, but there are none to be found now in all Pomerania). When the burgomaster heard this tale, he told him to go back the way he came, and keep perfectly still until he saw a rocket rise from St. Mary's Tower, then let him loose all his hounds upon the horses in the meadow, and he and the burghers would follow soon, and make a quick end of the robber knights and freebooters; but he would wait for three hours before giving the promised sign from St. Mary's Tower, that he might have time to get back to the wood. Still the knight and his followers continued working at the bridge right merrily. They took the ferryman's planks and poles, and cut down large oak-trees, and every one that went across the ferry must stop and help them; but their work was not quite completed, when three vessels appeared in sight, laden with all sorts of merchandise, and making direct for Stargard. As soon as Otto perceived them, he took half-a-dozen fellows with him, and jumped into a ferry-boat, crying, "Hold! until the dues are paid, you can go no farther. The river and the land alike belong to me now, and I must have my dues, as his Grace of Stettin has commanded." The crew, however, strictly objected, saying that in the memory of man they had never paid dues upon their goods, and they would not pay them now; but Otto and his knights jumped on deck, followed by their squires, and having asked for the bill of lading, decimated all the goods, as a priest collecting his tithe of the sheaves. Then he took the best cask of wine, had it rolled on land, and called out to the crew, who were crying like children, "Now, good people, you may go your ways." But the poor devils were in despair, and followed him on land, praying and beseeching him not to ruin them, but to restore their property, at which Otto laughed loudly, and bid the strongest of his followers chase the miserable varlets back to their vessel. Meanwhile the cask of wine had been rolled up against a tree, and the knight and his followers set themselves round it upon the grass, and because they had no glasses, they drank out of kettles, and pots, and bowls, and dishes, or whatever the ferryman could give them. Yea, some of them drew off their boots and filled them with the wine, others drank it out of their caps, and so there they lay on the grass, swilling the wine, and the different wares they had seized lay all scattered round them, and they laughed and drank, and roared, "Thus we drink a health to Stargard!" Hereupon the crew, seeing that nothing could be got from the robbers, went their way with curses and imprecations, to which the knight and his party responded only with peals of laughter. But the vessel had scarcely set sail, when a woman's voice was heard crying out loudly from the deck--"Father! father! I am here. Listen, Otto von Bork, your daughter Sidonia is here!" When the knight heard this, he felt as if stunned by a blow, but immediately comforted himself by thinking that no doubt Prince Ernest was with her, particularly as he could observe in the twilight the figure of a man seated beside her on a bundle of goods. "This surely must be the Prince," he said to himself, and so called out with a joyful voice, "Ah, my dearest daughter, Sidonia! how comest thou in the merchant vessel?" Then he screamed to the sailors to stop and cast anchor; but they heeded neither his cries nor commands, and in place of stopping, began to crowd all sail. Otto now tried entreaties, and promised to restore all their goods, and even pay for the wine drunk, if they would only stop the vessel. This made them listen to him, but they demanded, beside, a compensation money of one hundred florins, for all the anxiety and delay they had suffered. This he promised also, only let them stop instantly. However, they would not trust his word, and not until he had pledged his knightly faith would they consent to stop. Some, indeed, were not even content with this, and required that he should stand bareheaded on the bank, and take a solemn oath, with his hand extended to heaven, that he would deal with them as he had promised. To this also the knight consented, since they would not believe he held his knightly word higher than any oath; though, in my opinion, he would have done anything they demanded, such was his anxiety to behold the Prince and Princess of Pomerania, for he could imagine nothing else, but that his daughter and her husband had been turned out of Wolgast by the harsh Duchess and the old Grand Chamberlain, and were now on their way to his castle at Stramehl. Here my gracious Prince will no doubt say, "But, Theodore, why did she not call on her father sooner, when, as you told me, he was on board this very vessel plundering the wares?" I answer--"Serene Prince! your Grace must know that she and her paramour were at that time crouching in the cabin, through fear of Otto, for the sailors did not know her, or who she was. They had taken her and Appelmann in at Damm, and believed this story: that he was secretary to the Duke at Stettin, and Sidonia was his wife; they were on their way to Stargard, but preferred journeying by water, on account of the robbers who infested the high-roads, and who, they heard, had murdered three travellers only a few days before." But when Sidonia had found what her father had done, and heard the crew cursing and vowing vengeance on him, she feared it would be worse for her even to fall into the hands of the Stargardians than into her father's, and therefore rushed up on deck and called out to him, though her paramour conjured her by heaven and earth to keep quiet, and not bring him under her father's sword. _Summa_, as the vessel once more stood still, the knight sprang quick as thought into the ferry-boat along with some of his followers, and rowed off to the vessel, where his daughter sat upon a bundle of merchandise and wept, but Appelmann crept down again into the cabin. When the knight stepped on board, he kissed and embraced her--but where was the young Prince whom he had seen standing beside her? _Illa_.--"Alas! it was not the Prince; the young lord had shamefully deceived her!" (weeping.) _Hic_.--"He would make him suffer for it, then; let her tell him the whole business. If he had trifled with her, she should be revenged. Was he not as powerful as any duke in Pomerania?" _Illa_.--"He must send away all the bystanders first; did he not see how they all stood round, with their mouths open from wonder?" Hereupon the knight roared out, "Away, go all, all of ye, or I'll stick ye dead as calves. The devil take any of you who dare to listen!" His whole frame trembled meanwhile as an aspen leaf, and he could scarcely wait till the carls clambered over the bundles of goods--"What had happened? In the name of all the devils, let her speak, now that they were alone." But here the cunning wanton began to weep so piteously, that not a word could she utter; however, as old Otto grew impatient, and began to curse and swear, and shake her by the arm, she at last commenced (while Appelmann was listening from the cabin):-- "Her dearest father knew how the young lord had bribed a priest in Crummyn to wed them privately; but this was all a trick which his wicked mother had suggested to him, in order to bring her to utter ruin; for on the very wedding night, while she was waiting for the Prince in her little room, according to promise, to flee with him to Crummyn, the perfidious Duchess, who was aware of the whole arrangement, sent a groom to her chamber at the appointed hour, and she being in the dark, embraced him, thinking he was the Prince. In the self-same instant the door was burst open, and the old revengeful hag, with Ulrich von Schwerin, rushed in, along with the young Prince and Marcus Bork, her cousin, amid a great crowd of people with lanterns. And no one would listen to her or heed her; so she was thrust that same night out of the castle, like a common swine-maid, though the young lord, when he saw the full extent of his wicked mother's treachery, fell down in a dead faint at her feet." And here she wept and groaned, as if her heart would break. "Who, then, was the gay youth who sat beside her there on the bundle?" screamed Otto. _Illa_.--"That was the very groom that she had embraced, for they had sent him away with her, to make their wicked story seem true." _Hic_.--"But what was his name? May the devil take her, to have gone off with a base-born groom. What was his name?" _Illa_ (weeping).--"What did he think of her, that she should love a common groom? truly, he had the title of equerry, but then he was nothing better than a common burgher carl. What could she do, when they turned her by night and cloud out of the castle? She must thank God for having had even this groom to protect her, but that he was her lover--fie!--no; that was, indeed, to think little of her." _Hic_.--"He would strike her dead if she did not answer. Who was the knave? Where did he come from?" _Illa_.--"He was called Johann Appelmann, and was son to the burgomaster of Stargard." Here the knight raved and chafed like a wild beast, and drew his sword to kill Sidonia, but she fled away down to her paramour in the cabin. However, he had heard the whole conversation, and flew at her to beat her, crying, "Am I then a base-born groom? Ha! thou proud wanton, didst thou not run after me like a common street-girl? I will teach thee to call me a groom!" And as the knight listened to all this, the sword dropped from his hands and fell into the hold, so that he could not get it up again. Then he was beside himself for rage, and seized a stone of the ballast, to rush down with it to the cabin. But, behold! a rocket shot up from St. Mary's Tower, and poured its clear light upon the deepening twilight, like a starry meteor, and, at the same instant, the deep bay of ten or twelve blood-hounds resounded fearfully across the meadow where the horses were grazing, and the dogs flew on them, and tore some of them to the ground, and bit others, so that they dashed nearly to their masters, who were lying round the wine-cask, and others fled into the wood bleeding and groaning with pain and agony, as if they had been human creatures. Then all the fellows jumped up from their wine-cask, and screamed as if the last day had come, and Otto let the stone fall from his hand with horror; but still called out boldly to his men to know what had happened. "Was the devil himself among them that accursed evening?" Then they shouted in return, that he must hasten to land, for the Stargardians were upon them, and had killed all their horses. "Strike them dead, then; kill all, and himself the last, but he would go over and help them." So he jumped into the boat with his companions, but had not time to set foot on shore, when the Stargardians, horse and foot, with the burgomaster at their head, dashed forth from the wood, shouting, "So fall the Stargardians upon Stramehl!" At this sight the knight could no longer restrain his impatience, but jumped out of the boat; and although the water reached up under his arms, strode forward, crying-- "Courage, my brave fellows; down with the churls. Kill, slay, give no quarter. He who brings me the head of the burgomaster shall be my heir! His vile son hath brought my daughter to shame. Kill all--all! I will never outlive this day. Ye shall all be my heritors--only kill! kill! kill!" Then he jumps on land and goes to draw his sword, but he has none--only the scabbard is hanging there; and as the Stargard men are already pressing thick upon them, he shouts-- "A sword, a sword! give me a sword! My good castle of Stramehl for a sword, that I may slay this base-born churl of a burgomaster!" But a blood-hound jumped at his throat, and tore him to the ground, and as he felt the horrible muzzle closer to his face, he screamed out-- "Save me! save me! Oh, woe is me!" And at the same moment, Sidonia's voice was heard from the vessel, shrieking-- "Father, father, save me! this groom is beating me to death--he is killing me!" while a loud roar of laughter from the crew accompanied her cries. No one, however, came to save the knight; for the Stargardians were slaying right and left, and Otto's followers were utterly discomfited. So the knight tried to draw his dagger, and having got hold of it, plunged it with great force into the heart of the ferocious animal, who fell back dead, and Otto sprang to his feet. Just then, however, a tanner recognised him, and seizing hold of him by the arms, carried him off to the other prisoners. Now, indeed, might he call on the mountains to fall on him, and the hills to cover him (Hosea x.); and now he might feel, too, what a terrible thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God (Hebrews x.); for the Jesu wounds, I'm thinking, burned then like hell-fire in his heart. _Summa_, as the wretched man was brought before the burgomaster, who sat down upon a bank and wiped his sword in the grass, the latter cried out-- "Well, sir knight, you would not heed me; you have worked your will. Now, do you understand what retaliation means--'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'?" And as the other stood quite silent, he continued-- "Where is your charter for the Jena dues? Perchance it is contained in this letter, which I have received to-day from her Grace of Wolgast, addressed to you. Hand a lantern here, that the knight may read it! If the charter is not therein, then he shall be flung into prison this night with his followers, until my lord, Duke Barnim, pronounces judgment upon him." The ferryman advanced and held a light; but Otto had scarcely looked over the letter when he began to tremble as if he would fall to the ground, and then sighed forth, like the rich man in hell-- "Have mercy on me, and give me a drink of water!" They brought him the water, and then he added-- "Jacob, hast thou, too, had any tidings of our children?" "Alas!" the other answered; "Ulrich has written all to me." "Then have mercy on me. Listen how your godless son there in the vessel is beating my daughter to death, and how she is shrieking for help." As the burgomaster heard these unexpected tidings, he sent messengers to the vessel, with orders to bring the pair immediately before him. Meanwhile the other prisoners besought the burgomaster to let them go, for they were feudal vassals of Otto Bork, and must do as he commanded them. Besides, he told them that Duke Barnim had given him the dues, and therefore they held it their duty to assist him in collecting them. And as Otto confirmed their words, saying that he had indeed deceived them, the burgomaster turned to his party, and cried-- "How say you then, worthy burghers and dear friends, shall we let the vassals run, and keep the lord? for, if the master lies, are the servants to be punished if they believe him? Speak, worthy friends." Then all the burghers cried-- "Let them go, let them go; but keep the knight a prisoner." Upon which all the retainers took to their heels, not forgetting, though, to hoist the cask of wine upon their shoulders, and so they fled away into the wood. Now comes a great crowd from all the vessels, accompanying the infamous pair, mocking, and gibing, and laughing at them, so that no one can hear a word for the tumult. But the burgomaster bids them hold their peace, and let the guilty pair be placed before him. He remained a long while silent, gazing at them both, then sighing deeply, addressed his son-- "Oh, thou lost son, hast thou not yet given up thy dissolute courses? What is this I hear of thee in Wolgast? Now thou must needs humble this noble maiden, and bring dishonour on her house--flinging all thy father's admonitions to the wind--" Here the son interrupted-- "True; but this noble maiden had thrown herself in his way, like a common girl, and he was only flesh and blood like other men. Why did she follow him so?" Whereupon the father replied-- "Oh, thou shameless child, who, like the prodigal in Scripture, hast destroyed thy substance with harlots and riotous living, in place of humbleness and repentance, dost thou impudently tell of this poor young maiden's shame before all the world? Oh, son! oh, son! even the blind heathen said, '_Ego illum periisse puto, cui quidem periit pudor_' [Footnote: Plautus in Bacchid.]--which means, 'I esteem him dead in whom shame is dead.' Therefore is thy sin doubled, being a Christian, for thou hast boasted of thy shame before the people here, and held up the young maiden to their contempt, besides having beaten her so on board the vessel that many heard her screams, as if she were only a common wench, and not a castle and land dowered maiden." To which Appelmann answered, that she had called him a common groom and a base-born burgher churl. But his father commanded him to be silent, and bid his men first bind the knight's hands behind his back, and then those of his son, and so carry them both to prison; but to let the maiden go free. When the knight heard that he was to be bound, his pride revolted, and he offered any ransom, or to give any compensation that could be demanded for the injury he had done them. Every one knew his wealth, and that he had power to keep his word to the uttermost. But the burgomaster made answer, "Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth; how say you, sir knight--speak the truth, if you had taken me prisoner, as I have taken you, would you have bound my hands or not?" To which the knight replied, "Well, Jacob, I will not speak a falsehood, for I feel that my end is near;--I would have bound your hands." Hereupon the brave burgomaster answered, "I know it well; however, as you have answered me honestly, I will spare you. Burghers, do not bind his hands, neither those of my son. Ye have enough to suffer yet before ye, and God give you both grace to repent. And now to the town! The crew shall declare to-morrow morn, before the honourable council, what they have lost by the knight's means; and he shall make it all good again to them." So all the people returned with great uproar and rejoicing back to the town, and the bell from St. Mary's and St. John's rung forth merry peals, and all the people of the town ran forth to meet them; but when they saw the knight a prisoner, and his empty scabbard hanging by his side, they clapped their hands and huzzaed, shouting, "So fell the Stargardians upon Stramehl." Thus with merry laughter, and jests, and mockings, they carried him up the street to the tower called the Red Sea, and there locked him up, well guarded. Here again he prayed the burgomaster to accept a ransom, but in vain. Whereupon he at last solicited pen, paper, and ink, and a light, that he might indite a letter to his Grace, Duke Barnim; and this was granted to him. As for his unworthy son, the burgomaster had him carried to his own house, and there placed him in a room, with three stout burghers as a guard over him. And Sidonia was placed by herself in another little chamber. CHAPTER III. _Of Otto Bark's dreadful suicide--Item, how Sidonia and Johann Appelmann were brought before the burgomaster._ During that night there was a strong suspicion upon every one's mind that something terrible was going to happen; for a great storm arose at midnight, and raged fearfully round the Red Sea tower, so that it seemed to rock, and when the night-watch went round to examine it, behold three toads crept out, and set themselves upright upon the parapet like little manikins, as the hares sometimes make themselves into manikins. What all this denoted was discovered next morning, for when the jailer entered Otto's cell in the tower, he saw him lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with his own dagger sticking in his heart. On the table stood the lamp which he had asked for, still burning feebly, and near it a great many written papers. The man instantly ran for the burgomaster, who followed him with all speed to the tower. They felt the corpse, but it was already quite cold. So then a messenger was despatched for the chirurgeon, to hold a _visum repertum_ over him. Meantime they examined the papers, and found first my gracious Lady of Wolgast's letter to the unfortunate father--the same which had made him tremble so the day before--and therein was related all the shameful circumstances concerning Sidonia, just as Ulrich had stated them in the letter to the burgomaster. Then they came upon his last will and testament; but where the seal ought to have been, there lay a large drop of blood, with this memorandum beneath it: "This is my heart's first blood which I have affixed here, in place of a seal, and may he who slights it be accursed for evermore, even as my daughter Sidonia." In this testament he had completely disinherited his daughter Sidonia, and made his son Otto sole inheritor of all his property, castles, and lands (for his daughter Clara was already dead, and had left no children). Nothing should his daughter Sidonia have but two farm-houses in Zachow, [Footnote: A small town near Stramehl, a mile and a half from Regenwalde.] just to keep her from beggary, and to save the ancient, illustrious name of their house from falling into further contempt. Yet should his son think proper to give her further _alimentum_, he was at liberty so to do. Lastly, for the second and third time, he cursed his daughter, to whom he owed all his misery, from the affair with the apprentice to that concerning the Jena dues, up to this his most miserable and wretched death. _Item_, the burgomaster picked up another letter, which was addressed to himself, and wherein the knight prayed, first, that his body might not be drawn by the executioner to burial, as was the custom with suicides, but conveyed honourably to Stramehl, and there deposited in the vault of his family; secondly, that his daughter Sidonia might be sent to Zachow, there to learn how to live humbly as a peasant maid--for that she might look to being a Duchess of Pomerania, only when she could keep her evil desires still for even a couple of days. Then he cursed her so that it was pitiable to read; and proved that, if he had been a more God-fearing father, she might have been a different daughter; for as St. Paul says (Galatians vi.), "What a man soweth, that shall he also reap." The letter further said, that, for the good deed done to his corpse, the burgomaster should take all the gold found upon his person, consisting of eighty good rose-nobles, and indemnify himself therewith for the loss of his spices that day in Stramehl when they were scattered before the Jews. He lastly desired his last will and testament to be conveyed to his son, along with his corpse; and further, his son was to send compensation to the crew for the cask of wine and whatever other losses they had sustained, according to his knightly word which he had pledged to them. _Summa_, when the chirurgeon arrived and the body was examined, there was found upon the unfortunate knight a purse, embroidered with pearls and diamonds, containing eighty rose-nobles, which the burgomaster in no wise disdained to receive, and then laid the whole matter before the honourable council, with the petition of Otto concerning the corpse. The honourable council fully justified the burgomaster for all he had done, and gave their opinion, that as the good town had no jurisdiction over the knight, so they could have none over his body, and therefore let it be removed with all honour to Stramehl, particularly as he had in all things made amends for the wrong he had done them. As regarded Sidonia, two porters should be sent to convey her to Zachow. Meantime Sidonia had heard of her father's horrible death, and lay on the ground nearly insensible from grief. Just then the burgomaster returned from the council-hall, and commanded that she and his profligate son should be brought before him. When they arrived, he asked how it happened that they were both found in the vessel, for Ulrich, the Grand Chamberlain, had written to inform him that Sidonia had been sent away in a coach to Stettin, with the executioner on the box. Here Sidonia sobbed so violently that no word could she utter; therefore the son replied that such had been done, but that he had been given a horse from the ducal stables, and had followed the coach; and when they stopped at Uckermund for the night, he had secretly got speech with Sidonia, and advised her to try and remove the planks from the bottom of the carriage and escape to him, for that he would be quite close at hand. And he did what he could that night to loosen the boards himself. So in the morning Sidonia got them up easily, and first dropped her baggage out through the hole, which he picked up; and then, as they came to a soft, sandy tract where the coach had to go very slowly, she let herself also down through it, and sinking in the deep sand, let the coach go over her without any hurt. Then he came to her, and they fled to the next town, where he bought a waggon from some peasants, for her and her luggage to proceed into Stargard, for she was ashamed to appear before Duke Barnim, and wished to get on from Stargard to Stramehl; but when they reached Damm, they heard such wild tales of the robbers and partisans who infested the roads, that Sidonia grew alarmed, and made him go by water for safety. So he left the horse and waggon at the inn, and took ship with the merchants who were going to Stargard. These were their adventures. The rest his father knew as well as himself. The burgomaster then asked Sidonia had he spoken truth. So she dried her eyes, and nodded her head for "Yes." Then he admonished her gravely, for that she, a noble maiden, could have dishonoured herself with a mere burgher's son, like his Johann, in whom even he, his own father, must say, there was nothing to tempt any girl. And now she knew the truth of those words of St. James: "Lust, when it hath conceived, bringeth forth sin; and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." Her sin had, indeed, brought forth her father's death;--would that he could say only his _temporal_ death. This her father had himself asserted in his testament, which he held now in his hands, and for this cause had left all his goods, lands, and castles to her brother Otto--only giving her two farm-houses in Zachow to save her from the beggar's staff, and their noble name from falling into yet greater contempt--and, in addition, he had cursed her with terrible curses; but these might be yet turned away, if she would incline her heart to God, and lead a pious, honest life for the rest of her days. And much more the worthy man preached to her; but she interrupted him, having found her tongue at last, and exclaimed in wrath, "What! has the good-for-nothing old churl written this? Let me see it; it cannot be true." So the burgomaster reached her the paper, and, as she read, her colour changed, and at last she shrieked aloud and fell down before the burgomaster, clasping his knees, and praying by the Jesu cross not to send such a testament to her brother, for that he was still harder than her father, because he was by nature avaricious, and would grudge her even salt with her bread. Let him remember that his son had promised her marriage, and would he destroy his own children? Then Jacob Appelmann turned to his profligate son, and asked, "Does she speak the truth? Have you promised her marriage?" But the shameless knave answered, "True, I so promised her, when we were at Uckermund; but now that she has no money, I wash my hands of her." Such villainy made the old man flame with indignation. "He would make him know that he must stand by his word--he would force him to it, if he could only think it would be for the advantage of this wretched girl. But he would admonish her to give him up; did she not see that he was shameless, cruel, and selfish? and how could she ever hope to turn to God and lead a new life with such an infamous partner? _Item_, his son should be made to work, and to feel poverty, so that his evil desires might be stifled; and as for her, let her go in God's name to Zachow, and there in solitude repent her sins, and strive to win the favour of God." But that was no water for her mill; so she continued to lament, and weep, and pray the burgomaster not to send the will to her harsh brother; upon which he answered mildly, "Wert thou to lie at my feet till morning, it would not help thee: the testament goes this day to Stramehl; but I will do this for thee. Thy father left me some rose-nobles, in a purse which he carried about with him, as a compensation for my spices, which he strewed before the Jews in Stramehl, of which deed thou, too, wert also guilty, as I know; therefore I was not ashamed to take the money. But of the purse thy father said naught; so I had it in my mind to keep it--for, in truth, it is of more worth than the nobles it contained. If I mistake not, these are true pearls and diamonds with which it is broidered. Look, here it is. What sayest thou?" Here she sobbed, and answered, "She knew it well; she had broidered the purse herself. They were her mother's pearls and diamonds, and part of her bridal gear; truly they were worth three thousand florins." "Then," said the brave old man, "I will give thee this purse, since it was not named either for me or for thy brother at Stramehl. Take it to Zachow; thou wilt make a good penny of it. Be pious, and God-fearing, and industrious, remembering what the Holy Scripture says (Prov. xxxi.): 'A virtuous woman takes wool and flax, and labours diligently with her hands. She stretches out her hands to the wheel, and her fingers grasp the spindle.' Hadst thou learned this, in place of thy costly broidery, methinks it would have been better with thee this day." As he thus spoke, he put the purse in her hands, and she instantly hid it in her pocket. But the profligate Johann now suddenly became repentant, for he thought, if I can obtain nothing good from my father, I may at least get the purse. So he began to weep and lament, and fell down, too, at his father's feet, saying, if he would only pardon him this once, he would indeed take this poor maiden to wife, as he had promised her, for he alone was guilty of her sin; only would his heart's dearest father forgive him? And so the hypocrite went on with his lies. Whereupon his father made answer honourably and mildly--"Such promises thou hast often made, but never kept. However, I will try thee yet again. If thou wilt spend each day diligently writing in the council-office, and return each night to sleep in my chamber, and continue this good conduct for a few years, to testify thy repentance, as a brave and upright son, and Sidonia meanwhile continues to lead a godly and humble life at Zachow, then, in God's name, ye shall both marry, and make amends for your sin; but not before that." As he said this, and bid his son stand up, the hypocrite answered, yes, he would do the will of his dear father; but then he must keep back this testament; so would his children be happy. Otherwise, wherefore should they marry?--what could they live on? A couple of cabins in Zachow would not be enough. "Truly," replied the old man, "if I were as great a knave as thou art, I would do as thou hast said; yet, though the loss of the spices, which her father wickedly destroyed, did me such injury that I had to sell my house, to get the means of living and keeping thee at the University of Grypswald, I will keep my hands pure from the property of another, even if this property belonged to my greatest enemy, and the enemy of this good town also. _Summa_, this day thou shalt go to the council-office, the testament to Stramehl, and Sidonia to Zachow." So the knave was silent: but Sidonia still resisted; she would not go to Zachow--never; but if he would send her to Stettin, she was certain the good Duke Barnim would be kind to an unfortunate maiden, who had done nothing more than what thousands do in secret. And whatever the gracious Prince resolved concerning her, she would abide by. When the burgomaster heard this speech, he saw that no amendment was to be expected from her; and as he had no authority to compel her to Zachow, he promised, at last, to send her to Stettin on the following day, for there were two market waggons going, and she could travel in one, and thereby be more secure against all danger. And so it was done. CHAPTER IV. _How Sidonia meets Claude Uckermann again, and solicits him to wed her--Item, what he answered, and how my gracious Lord of Stettin received her._ Sidonia, next morning, got a good soft seat in the waggon, upon the sack of a cloth merchant; he was cousin to the burgomaster, and promised to take her with him, out of friendship for him. All the men in the waggon were armed with spears and muskets, for fear of the robbers, who were growing more daring every day. So they proceeded; but had not got far from the town when a horseman galloped furiously after them, and called out that he would accompany them; and this was Claude Uckermann, of whom I have spoken so much in my former book. He, too, was going to Stettin. Now when Sidonia saw him, her eyes glistened like a cat's when she sees a mouse, and she rejoiced at the prospect of such good company, for since the wedding of her sister, never had this handsome youth come across her, though she was constantly looking out for him. So as he rode up by the waggon, she greeted him, and prayed him to alight and come and sit by her upon the sack, that they might talk together of dear old times. She imagined, no doubt, that he knew nothing of all that had happened; but her disgrace was as public at Stargard as if it had been pealed from the great bell of St. Mary's. He therefore knew her whole story, and answered, that sitting by her was disagreeable to him now; and he rode on. This was plain enough, one would think; but Sidonia still held by her delusion; for as they reached the first inn, and stopped to feed the horses, she saw him stepping aside to avoid her, and seating himself at some distance on a bank. So she put on her flattering face, and advanced to him, saying, "Would not the dear young knight make up with her?--what ailed him?--it was impossible he could resent her silly fun at her sister's wedding. Oh! if he had come again and asked her seriously to be his wife, in place of there in the middle of the dancing, as if he had been only jesting, she would never have had another husband, for from that till now, never had so handsome a knight met her eyes; but she was still free." Hereupon the young man (as he told me himself) made answer--"Yes, she had rightly judged, he was only jesting, and taking his pastime with her, as they sat there upon the carpet, for he held in unspeakable aversion and disgust a cup from which every one sipped." Still Sidonia would not comprehend him, and began to talk about Wolgast. But he looked down straight before him in the grass, and never spake a word, but turned on his heel, and entered the inn, to see after his horse. So he got rid of her at last. As the waggon set off again, she began to sing so merrily and loudly, that all the wood rang with it. And the young knight was not so stupid but that he truly discerned her meaning, which was to show him that she cared little for his words, since she could go away in such high spirits. _Summa_, when they reached the inn at Stettin, Sidonia got all her baggage carried in from the waggon, and there dressed herself with all her finery: silken robes, golden hairnet, and golden chains, rings, and jewels, that all the people saluted her when she came forth, and went to the castle to ask for his Highness the Duke. He was in his workshop, and had just finished turning a spinning-wheel; he laughed aloud when she entered, ran to her, embraced her, and cried, "What! my treasure!--where hast thou been so long, my sugar-morsel? How I laughed when Master Hansen, whom my old, silly, sour cousin of Wolgast sent with thee, came in lately into my workshop, and told me he had brought thee hither in a ducal coach! I ran directly to the courtyard; but when the knave opened the door, my little thrush had flown. Where hast thou been so long, my sugar-morsel?" As his Grace put all these questions, he continued kissing her, so that his long white beard got entangled in her golden chains; and as she pushed him away, a bunch of hair remained sticking to her brooch, so that he screamed for pain, and put his hand to his chin. At this, in rushed the court marshal and the treasurer (who were writing in the next chamber) as white as corpses, and asked, "Who is murdering his Grace?" but his Grace held up his hand over his bleeding mouth, and winked to them to go away. So when they saw that it was only a maiden combat, they went their way laughing. Hereupon speaks his Grace--"See now, treasure, what thou hast done! Thou canst be so kind to a groom, yet thy own gracious Prince will treat so harshly!" But Sidonia began to weep bitterly. "What did he think of her? The whole story was an invention by his old sour cousin of Wolgast to ruin her because she would not learn her catechism (and then she told the same tale as to her father); but would not his Grace take pity on a poor forsaken maiden, seeing that Prince Ernest could not deny he had promised to make her his bride, and wed her privately at Crummyn, on the very next night to that on which her Grace had so shamefully outraged her?" "My sweet treasure!" answered the Duke, "the young Prince was only making a fool of you; therefore be content that things are no worse. For even if he had wedded you privately, it would have been all in vain, seeing that neither the princely widow nor the Elector of Brandenburg, his godfather, nor any of the princes of the holy Roman Empire, nor lastly, the Pomeranian States, would ever have permitted so unequal a marriage. Therefore, what the priest joined in Crummyn would have been put asunder next day by the tribunals. My poor nephew is a silly enthusiast not to have perceived this all along, before he put such absurdities in your head. That he talked gallantry to you was very natural, and I wished him all success; but that he should ever have talked of marriage shows him to be even sillier than I expected from his years." Here Sidonia's tears burst forth anew. "Who would care for her now that her father was dead, and had left her penniless? All because he believed that old hypocrite of Wolgast more than his own daughter. Alas! alas! she was a poor orphan now! and all her possessions would be torn from her by her hard-hearted, avaricious brother. Yet surely his Grace might at least take pity on her innocence." His Grace wondered much when he heard of Otto's death, for the letters brought by the market waggon from the honourable council, acquainting him with the matter, had not yet arrived, and he scratched behind his ear, and said, "It was an evil deed of that proud devil her father, to claim the Jena dues. He had got his answer at Wolgast, and ought to have left the dues alone. What right had he to break the peace of the land, to gratify his lust and greed? It was well that he was dead; but as concerning his testament, that must not be interfered with, he had no power over the property of individuals. Each one might leave his goods as best pleased him; yet he would make his treasurer write a letter in her favour to her brother Otto: that was all that he could do." This threw Sidonia into despair; she fell at his feet, and told him, that let what would become of her, she would never go a step to Zachow, and her harsh brother would never give her one groschen, unless he were forced to it. His Grace ought to remember that it was by his advice she had gone to Wolgast, where all her misery had commenced; for by the traitorous conduct of the widow, there she had been robbed, not only of her good name, but also of her fortune. So his Grace comforted her, and said that as long as he lived she would want for nothing. He had a pretty house behind St. Mary's, and six young maidens lived there, who had nothing to do but spin and embroider, or comb out the beautiful herons' feathers as the birds moulted; for he had a large stock of herons close to the house; and there was a darling little chamber there, which she could have immediately for herself. As to clothes, they might all get the handsomest they pleased, and their meals were supplied from the ducal kitchen. As his Grace ended, and lifted up Sidonia and kissed her, she wept and sighed more than ever. "Could he think this of her? No; she would never enter the house which was the talk of all Pomerania. If she consented, then, indeed, would the world believe all the falsehoods that were told of her--of her, who was as innocent as a child!" Hereupon his Grace answered stiff and stern (yet this was not his wont, for he was a right tender master), "Then go your ways. Into that house or nowhere else." (Alas! let every maiden take warning, by this example, to guard against the first false step. Amen, chaste Jesus! Amen.) That evening Sidonia took up her abode in the house. But that same evening there was a great _scandalum,_ and tearing of each other's hair among the girls. For one of them, named Trina Wehlers, was a baker's daughter from Stramehl, and on the occasion of Clara's wedding she had headed a procession of young peasants to join the bridal party, but Sidonia had haughtily pushed her back, and forbid them to approach. This Trina was a fine rosy wench, and my Lord Duke took a fancy to her then, so that she looked with great jealousy on any one that threatened to rob her of his favour. Now when Sidonia entered the house and saw the baker's daughter, she commenced again to play the part of the great lady, but the other only laughed, and mockingly asked her, "Where was the princely spouse, Duke Ernest of Wolgast? Would his Highness come to meet her there?" Then Sidonia raged from shame and despair, that this peasant girl should dare to insult her, and she ran weeping to her chamber; but when supper was served, the _scandalum_ broke out in earnest. For Sidonia had now grown a little comforted, and as there were many dainty dishes from the Duke's table sent to them, she began to enjoy herself somewhat, when all of a sudden the baker's daughter gave her a smart blow over the fingers with a fork. Sidonia instantly seized her by the hair; and now there was such an uproar of blows, screams, and tongues, that my gracious lord, the Duke, was sent for. Whereupon he scolded the baker's daughter right seriously for her insolence, and told her that as Sidonia was the only noble maiden amongst them, she was to bear rule. And if the others did not obey her humbly, as befitted her rank, they should all be whipped. His Grace wore a patch of black plaister on his chin, and attempted to kiss Sidonia again, but she pushed him away, saying that he must have told all that happened at Wolgast to these girls, otherwise how could the baker's daughter have mocked her about it. Whereupon my gracious lord consoled her, and said that if she were quiet and well-behaved, he would take her with him to the Diet at Wollin, for all the young dukes of Pomerania were to attend it, and Prince Ernest amongst the number, seeing that he had summoned them all there, in order to give up the government of the land into their hands, as he was too old now himself to be tormented with state affairs. When Sidonia heard this, hope sprang up within her heart, and she resolved to bear her destiny calmly. CHAPTER V. _How they went on meantime at Wolgast--Item, of the Diet at Wollin, and what happened there._ With regard to their Serene Highnesses of Wolgast, I have already related, _libro primo,_ that the young lord, Ernest Ludovicus, was carried out of Sidonia's chamber like one dead, when he beheld her abominable wickedness with his own eyes and all can easily believe that he lay for a long while sick unto death. In vain Dr. Pomius offered his celebrated specific; he would take nothing, did nothing day or night but sigh and groan-- "Ah, Sidonia; ah, my beloved heart's bride, Sidonia, can it be possible? Adored Sidonia, my heart is breaking. Sidonia, Sidonia, can it be possible?" At last the idea struck Dr. Pomius that there must be magic and devil's work in it. So he searched through all his learned books, and finally came upon a recipe which was infallible in such cases. This was to burn the tooth of a dead man to powder, and let the sick bewitched person smoke the ashes. Such was solemnly recommended by Petrus Hispanus Ulyxbonensis, who, under the name of John XXII., ascended the papal throne. See his _Thesaurus Pauperum,_ cap. ult. But the Prince would neither take anything nor smoke anything, and the _delirium amatorium_ grew more violent and alarming day by day, so that the whole ducal house was plunged into the deepest grief and despair. Now there was a prisoner in the bastion tower at Wolgast, a carl from Katzow, who had been arrested and condemned for practising horrible sorceries and magic--namely, having changed the calves of his neighbours into young hares, which instinctively started off to the woods, and were never seen more, as the whole town testified; and other devil's doings he had practised, which I now forget; but they were fully proved against him, and so he was sentenced to be burned. This man now sent a message to the authorities, that if they pardoned him and allowed him free passage from the town, he would tell of something to cure the young lord. This was agreed to; and when he was brought to the chamber of the Prince, he laid his ear down upon his breast, to listen if it were witchcraft that ailed him. Then he spake-- "Yes; the heart beats quite unnaturally, the sound was like the whimpering of a fly caught in a spider's web; their lordships might listen for themselves." Whereupon all present, one after the other, laid their ear upon the breast of the young Prince, and heard really as he had described. The earl now said that he would give his Highness a potion which would make him, from that hour, hate the woman who had bewitched him as much as he had adored her. _Item,_ the young lord must sleep for three days, and when he woke, his strength would have returned to him; to procure this sleep, he must anoint his temples with goat's milk, which they must instantly bring him, and during his sleep the Lady Duchess must, every two hours, lay fresh ox-flesh upon his stomach. When her Grace heard this, she rejoiced that her dear son would so soon hold the harlot in abhorrence who had bewitched him. And the earl gave him a red syrup, which he had no sooner swallowed than all care for Sidonia seemed to have vanished from his mind. Even before the goat's milk came, he exclaimed-- "Now that I think over it, what a great blessing that we have got rid of Sidonia." And no sooner were his temples bathed with the milk than he fell into a deep sleep, which lasted for three days, and when he opened his eyes, his first words were-- "Where is that Sidonia? Is the wanton still here? Bring her before me, that I may tell her how I hate her. Oh, fool that I was, to peril my princely honour for a harlot. Where is she? I must have my revenge upon the light wanton." Her Grace could hardly speak for joy when she heard these words; and she gave the earl, who had watched all the time by the bedside of the young Prince, so much ham and sausages from the ducal kitchen, that he finally could not walk, but was obliged to be drawn out of the town in a car. Then she asked Dr. Pomius how such a miracle could have been effected. At which he laid his finger on his nose, after his manner, and replied, such was accomplished through the introduction of the natural Life Balsam, which the learned called _confermentationem Mumie_, and so the fool went on prating, and her Grace devouring his words as if they were gospel. _Summa._--After a few days the young lord was able to leave his bed, and as they kept fresh ox-flesh continually applied to his stomach, he soon regained his strength, so that, in a couple of weeks, he could ride, fish, and hunt, and his cheeks were as fresh and rosy as ever. One day he mentioned "the groom's mistress," as he called her, and wished he could give her a lesson in lute-playing, it would be one to make her tremble. But when the letter arrived from Duke Barnim, declaring that, from his great age, he proposed resigning the government of Pomerania into the hands of her Grace's sons, there was no end to the rejoicings at Wolgast, and her Grace declared that she would herself accompany them to the Diet at Wollin. We shall now see what a treat was waiting her at the old castle there. It was built wholly of wood, and has long since fallen; but at the time I write of, it was standing in all its glory. Monday, the 15th May 1569, at eleven in the forenoon, his Grace of Stettin came with seven coaches and two hundred and fourteen horsemen into the courtyard. And there, on the steps of the castle, stood my gracious Lady of Wolgast, holding the little Casimir by the hand, in waiting to receive his Highness, and all her other sons stood round her--namely, the illustrious Bishop of Camyn, Johann Frederick, in his bishop's robes, with the staff and mitre. _Item,_ Duke Bogislaus, who had presented her Grace with a tame sea-gull. _Item,_ Ernest Ludovicus, in a Spanish mantle of black velvet, embossed in gold, and upon his head a black velvet Spanish hat, looped up with diamonds, from which long white plumes descended to his shoulder. _Item,_ Barnim the younger, who wore a dress similar to his brother's. _Item,_ the Grand Chamberlain, Ulrich von Schwerin, and with him a great crowd of the counsellors and state officers of Wolgast, besides all the nobles, prelates, knights, and chief burghers of the duchy. Among the nobles stood Otto von Bork, brother to Sidonia; and the burgomaster, Jacob Appelmann, held his place among the citizens. As Duke Barnim drove up to the castle, the guards fired a salute, and the bells rang, and the cannon roared, and all the vessels in the harbour hoisted their flags, while the streets, houses, and courtyards were decorated with flowers, and all the people of the little town trotted round the carriage, shouting, "Vivat! vivat! vivat!" so that the like was never seen before in Wollin. Now, when the coach stopped, her Grace the Duchess advanced to meet his Highness; and as old Duke Barnim's head appeared at the window, with his long white beard and yellow leather cap, her Grace stepped forward, and said--"Welcome, dearest Un------" But she could get no farther, and stood as stiff as Lot's wife when she was turned into a pillar of salt, for there was Sidonia seated in the carriage beside the Duke! Old Ulrich, who followed, soon spied the cause of her Grace's dismay, and exclaimed-- "Three thousand devils, what does your Highness mean by bringing the accursed harlot a third time amongst us?" But his Highness only laughed, and drew forth his last puppet, it was a Satan as he tempted Eve, saying-- "Hold this for me, good Ulrich, till I am out of the coach, and then I shall hear all about it." To which the other answered-- "If you let me catch hold of this other Satan, whom ye bring with you, I think it were wiser done!" Prince Ernest now sprang down the steps, his eye flaming with rage, and drawing his sword, cried-- "Hold me, or I will stab the serpent to the heart, who so disgraced me and my family honour. I will murder her there in the coach before your eyes." Whereupon old Ulrich flung the little wooden Satan to the ground, and seized the young man by the arm, while Sidonia screamed violently. But the old Duke stepped deliberately out of the coach. Seeing, however, his wooden Satan lying broken on the ground, he became very wroth, and called loudly for a turner with his glue-pot. Then he ascended the steps, and when all had greeted him deferentially, he began-- "Dear niece, worthy cousins, and friends, ye have no doubt heard of the misfortune which hath befallen Sidonia von Bork, who sits there in the carriage. Her father has died; and, further, she has been disinherited. Thereupon she fled to me to seek a refuge. Now ye all know well that the Von Borks are an ancient, honourable, and illustrious race--none more so; therefore I had compassion upon the orphan, and brought her hither to effect a reconciliation between her and Otto Bork, her brother. Step forward, Otto Bork, where are you hiding? Step forth, and hand your sister from the carriage; I saw you amongst the nobles here to-day. Step forth!" But Otto had disappeared; and as the Duke found he would not answer to his summons, he bid Sidonia come forth herself. Whereupon the young Prince swore fiercely that, if she but put a foot upon the step he would murder her. "What the devil! young man," said the Duke, laughing; "first you must needs wed her, and now you will slay her dead at our feet! This is somewhat inconsistent. Come forth, Sidonia; he will not be so cruel." But she sat in the coach, and wept like a child who has lost its nurse. So my gracious lady stepped forward, and commanded the coachman to drive instantly with the maiden to the town inn; and so it was done. Now the old Duke never ceased for the whole forenoon soliciting Otto Bork to take the poor orphan home with him, and there to treat her as a faithful and kind brother, in compensation for her father's harsh and unnatural will; but it was all in vain, as she indeed had prophesied. "Not the weight of a feather more should she get than the two farmhouses in Zachow; and never let her call him brother, for ancient as his race was, never had one of them borne the brand of infamy till now." In the afternoon, all the prelates, nobles, and burghers assembled in the grand hall; then entered the ducal family, Barnim the elder at their head. He was dressed in a long black robe, such as the priests wear now, with white ruffles and Spanish frill, and was bareheaded. He took his seat at the top of the table, and thus spake-- "Illustrious Princess, dear cousins, nobles, and faithful burghers, ye all know that I have ruled this Pomeranian land for fifty years, upholding the pure doctrine of Doctor Martin Luther, and casting down papacy in all places and at all times. But as I am now old, and find it hard sometimes to keep my unruly vassals in order, whereof we have had a proof lately, it is my will and purpose to resign the government into the hands of my dear cousins, the illustrious Princes von Pommern-Wolgast, and retire to Oderburg in Old Stettin, there to rest in peace for the remainder of my days; but there are four princes (for the fifth, Casimir, to-morrow or next day shall get a church endowment) and but two duchies. For ye know that, by the Act passed in 1541, the Duchy of Pomerania can only be divided into two portions, the other princes of the family being entitled but to life-annuities. Therefore I have resolved to let it be decided by lot amongst the four Pomeranian princes (according to the example set us by the holy apostles), which of them shall succeed me in Stettin, which is to rule in Wolgast in the room of my loved brother, Philippus Primus of blessed memory; and, finally, which is to be content only with the life-annuity. And this shall now be ascertained in your presence." Having ended, he commanded the Grand Marshal, Von Flemming, to bring the golden lottery-box with the tickets, and beckoned the young princes to the table. Then, while they drew the lots, he commanded all the nobles, knights, and burghers present to lift up their hands and repeat the Lord's Prayer aloud. So every hand was elevated, even the Duke and my gracious lady uplifting theirs, and the three young princes drew the lots, but not the fourth, and this was Bogislaff. So Duke Barnim wondered, and asked the reason. Whereupon he answered, "That he would not tempt God in aught. To govern a land was a serious thing; and he who had little to rule had little to be responsible for before God. He would therefore freely withdraw his claims, and be content with the annuity; then he could remain with his dear mother, and console her in her widowhood. He did not fear that he would ever repent his choice, for he had more pleasure in study than in the pomp of the world; and if he took the government, then must his beloved library be given up for food to the moths and spiders." All arguments were vain to turn him from his resolve: so the lots were drawn, and it was found that Johann Frederick had come by the Dukedom of Stettin, and Ernest Ludovicus by that of Wolgast. But as Barnim the younger went away empty, he was filled with envy and mortification, showing quite a different spirit from his meek, humble-minded brother, Bogislaff. He swore, and cursed his ill luck. "Why did not that fool of a bookworm give over his chance to him, if he would not profit by it himself? Why the devil should he descend to play the commoner, when he was born to play the prince?" and suchlike unamiable and ill-tempered speeches. However, he was now silenced by the drums and trumpets, which struck up the _Te Deum_, in which all present joined. Then Doctor Dannenbaum offered up a prayer, and so that grand ceremony concluded. But the feasting and drinking was carried on with such spirit all through the evening, and far into the night, that all the young lords, except Bogislaff, had well nigh drowned their senses in the wine-cup; and Ernest started up about midnight, declaring that he would go to the inn and murder Sidonia. Barnim was busy quarrelling with Johann Frederick about his annuity. So Ernest would certainly have gone to Sidonia, if one of the nobles, by name Dinnies Kleist, a man of huge strength, had not detained him in a singular manner. For he laid a wager that, just with his little finger in the girdle of the young Prince, he would hold him fast; and if he (the Prince) moved but one inch from the spot where he stood, he was content to lose his wager. And, in truth, Prince Ernest found that he could not stir one step from the spot where Dinnies Kleist held him; so he called a noble to assist him, who seized his hand and tried to draw him away, but in vain; then he called a second, a third, a fourth, up to a dozen, and they all held each other by the hand, and pulled and pulled away till their heads nearly touched the floor, but in vain; not one inch could they make the Prince to move. So Dinnies Kleist won his wager; and the Duke, Johann Frederick, was so delighted with this proof of his giant strength, that he took him into his service from that hour. So the whole night Dinnies amused the guests by performing equally wonderful feats even until day dawned. Now, there was an enormous golden becker which Duke Ratibor I. had taken away from the rich town of Konghalla, in Norway land, when he fell upon it and plundered it. This becker stood on the table filled with wine, and as the Duke handed it to him to pledge him, Dinnies said, "Shall I crush this in my hand, like fresh bread, for your Grace?" "You may try," said the Duke, laughing; and instantly he crushed it together with such force, that the wine dashed down all over the table-cover. _Item_, the Duke threw down some gold and silver medals--"Could he break them?" "Ay, truly, if they were given to him; not else." "Take, then, as many as you can break," said the Duke. So he broke them all as easily as altar wafers, and thrust them, laughing, into his pocket. _Item_, there had been large quantities of preserved cherries at supper, and the lacqueys had piled up the stones on a dish like a high mountain. From this mountain Dinnies took handful after handful, and squeezed them together, so that not a single stone remained whole in his hand. We shall hear a great deal more of this Dinnies Kleist, and his strength, as we proceed; therefore shall let him rest for the present. CHAPTER VI. _How Sidonia is again discovered with the groom, Johann Appelmann._ It was a good day for Johann Appelmann, when his father went to the Diet at Wollin. For as the old burgomaster held strictly by his word, and sent him each day to the writing-office, and locked him up each night in his little room, the poor young man had found life growing very dull. Now he was his mother's pet, and all his sins and wickedness were owing to her as much as Sidonia's to her father. She had petted and spoiled him from his youth up, and stiffened his back against his father. For whenever worthy Jacob laid the stick upon the boy's shoulders, she cried and roared, and called him nothing but an old tyrant. Then how she was always stuffing him up with tit-bits and dainties, whenever his father's back was turned; and if there were a glass of wine left in the bottle, the boy must have it. Then she let him and his brother beat and abuse all the street-boys and send them away bleeding like dogs; and some were afraid to complain of them, as they were sons of the burgomaster; and if others came to the house to do so, she took good care to send them away with a stout blow or bloody nose. And as the lads grew up, how she praised their beauty, and curled their hair and beards herself, telling them they were not to think of citizen wives, but to look after the richest and highest, for the proudest in the land might be glad to get them as husbands. So she prated away during her husband's absence, for he was in his office all day and most part of the evening. And God knows, bad fruit she brought forth with such rearing--not alone in Johann, but also in his brother Wittich, who, as I afterwards heard, got on no better in Pudgla, where he held the office of magistrate. So true it is what the Scripture says, "A wise woman buildeth her house, but the foolish plucketh it down with her hands" (Prov. xiv.) Then, another Scripture, "As moths from a garment, so from a woman wickedness" (Sirach xlii.) For what did this fool do now? As soon as her upright and worthy husband had left the house, forgetting and despising all his admonitions respecting this son Johann, she called together all her acquaintance, and kept up a gormandising and drinking day after day, all to comfort her heart's dear pet Johann, who had been used so harshly by his cross father. Think of her fine, handsome son being stuck down all day to a clerk's desk. Ah! was there ever such a tyrant as her husband to any one, but especially to his own born children? And so she went on complaining how she had thrown herself away upon such a hard-hearted monster, and had refused so many fine young carls, all to wed Satan himself at least. She could not make out why God had sent such a curse upon her. When the brave Johann heard all this, he begged money from his mother, that he might seek another situation. Now that there was a new duke in Stettin, he would assuredly get employment there, but then he must treat all the young fellows and pages about the court, otherwise they would not put in a good word for him. Therefore he would give them a great carouse at the White Horse in the Monk's Close, and then assuredly he would be appointed chief equerry. So she believed every word he uttered; but as old Jacob had carried away all the money that was in the house with him, she sold the spices that had just come in, for a miserable sum, also her own pearl earrings and fur mantle, that her dear heart's son might have a gay carouse, to console him for all his father's hard treatment. _Summa_.--When the rogue had got all he could from her, he took his father's best mare from the stable, and rode up to Stettin, where he put up at the White Horse Inn, and soon scraped acquaintance with all the idle young fellows about the court. So they drank and caroused until Johann's last penny was spent, but he had got no situation except in good promises. Truly the young pages had mentioned him to the Duke, and asked the place of equerry for their jovial companion, but his Highness, Duke Johann, had heard too much of his doings at Wolgast, and would by no means countenance him. Then Johann bethought himself of Sidonia, for he had heard from his boon companions that she was in the Duke's house behind St. Mary's. And he remembered that purse embroidered with pearls and diamonds which his father had given her, so he went many days spying about the house, hoping to get a glimpse of Sidonia; but as she never appeared, he resolved to gain admission by playing the tailor. Wherefore, he tied on an apron, took a tailor's measure and shears, and went straight up to the house, asking boldly, if a young maiden named Sidonia did not live there? for he had got orders to make her a garment. Now the baker's daughter, Trim Wehlers, suspected all was not right, for she had seen my gay youth spying about the house before, and staring up at all the windows. However, she showed the tailor Sidonia's room, and then set herself down to watch. But the wonders of Providence are great. Although she could not hear a word they said, yet all that passed in Sidonia's room was made evident--it was in this wise. Just before the house rose up the church of St. Mary's, with all its stately pillars, and as if God's house wished in wrath to expose the wickedness of the pair, everything that passed in the room was shadowed on these pillars; so when Trina observed this, she ran for the other girls, crying, "Come here, come here, and see how the two shadows are kissing each other. They can be no other than Sidonia and her tailor. This would be fine news for our gracious lord!" They would tell him the whole story when his Highness came that evening, and so get rid of this proud, haughty dragon who played the great lady amongst them, and ruled everything her own way. Therefore they all set themselves to watch for the tailor when he left Sidonia's room; but the whole day passed, and he had not done with his measurement. Whereupon they concluded she must have secreted him in her chamber. Now the Duke had a private key of the house, and was in the habit of walking over from Oderburg after dusk almost every evening; but as there was no sign of him now, they despatched a messenger, bidding him come quick to his house, and his Grace would hear and see marvels. How the young girls gathered round him when he entered, all telling him together about Sidonia. And when at last he made out the story, his Grace fell into an unwonted rage (for he was generally mild and good-tempered) that a poacher should get into his preserves. So he runs to Sidonia's door and tries to open it, but the bolts are drawn. Then he threatened to send for Master Hansen if she did not instantly admit him, at which all the girls laughed and clapped their hands with joy. Whereupon Sidonia at last came to the door with looks of great astonishment, and demanded what his Grace could want. It was bed-time, and so, of course, she had locked her door to lie down in safety. _Ille_.-"Where is that tailor churl who had come to her in the morning?" _Illa_.-"She knew nothing about him, except that he had gone away long ago." So the girls all screamed "No, no, that is not true! She and the tailor had been kissing each other, as they saw by the shadows on the wall, and making love." Here Sidonia appeared truly horrified at such an accusation, for she was a cunning hypocrite; and taking up the coif-block [Footnote: A block for head-gears.] with an air of offended dignity, said, turning to his Grace, "It was this coif-block, methinks, I had at the window with me, and may those be accursed who blackened me to your face." So the Duke half believed her, and stood silent at the window; but Trina Wehlers cried out, "It is false! it is false! a coif-block could not give kisses!" Whereupon Sidonia in great wrath snatched up a robe that lay near her on a couch, to hit the baker's daughter with it across the face. But woe! woe! under the robe lay the tailor's cap, upon which all the girls screamed out, "There is the cap! there is the cap! now we'll soon find the tailor," pushing Sidonia aside, and beginning to search in every nook and corner of the room. Heyday, what an uproar there was now, when they caught sight of the tailor himself in the chimney and dragged him down; but he dashed them aside with his hands, right and left, so that many got bleeding noses, hit his Grace, too, a blow as he tried to seize him, and rushed out of the house. Still the Duke had time to recognise the knave of Wolgast, and was so angry at his having escaped him, that he almost beat Sidonia. "She was at her old villainy. No good would ever come of her. He saw that now with his own eyes. Therefore this very night she and her baggage should pack off, to the devil if she chose, but he had done with her for ever." When Sidonia found that the affair was taking a bad turn, she tried soft words, but in vain. His Highness ordered up her two serving wenches to remove her and her luggage. And so, to the great joy of the other girls, who laughed and screamed, and clapped their hands, she was turned out, and having nowhere to go to, put up once more at the White Horse Inn. Now Johann knew nothing of this until next morning, when, as he was toying with one of the maids, he heard a voice from the window, "Johann! Johann! I will give thee the diamond." And looking up, there was Sidonia. So the knave ran to her, and swore he was only jesting with the maid in the court, for that he would marry no one but her, as he had promised yesterday, only he must first wait till he was made equerry, then he would obtain letters of nobility, which could easily be done, as he was the son of a _patricius_; but gold, gold was wanting for all this, and to keep up with his friends at the court. Perhaps this very day he might get the place, if he had only some good claret to entertain them with; therefore she had better give him a couple of diamonds from the purse. And so he went on with his lies and humbug, until at last he got what he wanted. Sidonia now felt so ashamed of her degradation, that she resolved to leave the White Horse, and take a little lodging in the Monk's Close until Johann obtained the post of equerry. But in vain she hoped and waited. Every day the rogue came, he begged for another pearl or diamond, and if she hesitated, then he swore it would be the last, for this very day he was certain of the situation. At last but two diamonds were left, and beg as he might, these he should not have. Then he beat her, and ran off to the White Horse, but came back again in less than an hour. Would she forgive him? Now they would be happy at last; he had received his appointment as chief equerry. His friends had behaved nobly and kept their word, therefore he must give them a right merry carouse out of gratitude; she might as well hand him those two little diamonds. Now they would want for nothing at last, but live like princes at the table of his Highness the Duke. Would she not be ready to marry him immediately? Thereupon the unfortunate Sidonia handed over her two last jewels, but never laid eyes on the knave for two days after, when he came to tell her it was all up with him now, the traitors had deceived him, he had got no situation, and unless she gave him more money or jewels he never could marry her. She had still golden armlets and a gold chain, let her go for them, he must see them, and try what he could get for them. But he begged in vain. Then he stormed, swore, threatened, beat her, and finally rushed out of the house declaring that she might go to the devil, for as to him he would never give himself any further trouble about her. CHAPTER VII. _Of the distress in Pomeranian land--Item, how Sidonia and Johann Appelmann determine to join the robbers in the vicinity of Stargard._ When my gracious lord, Duke Johann Frederick, succeeded to the government, he had no idea of hoarding up his money in old pots, but lavished it freely upon all kinds of buildings, hounds, horses--in short, upon everything that could make his court and castle luxurious and magnificent. Indeed, he was often as prodigal, just to gratify a whim, as when he flung the gold coins to Dinnies Kleist, merely to see if he could break them. For instance, he was not content with the old ducal residence at Stettin, but must pull it down and build another in the forest, not far from Stargard, with churches, towers, stables, and all kinds of buildings; and this new residence he called after his own name, Friedrichswald. _Item_, my gracious lord had many princely visitors, who would come with a train of six hundred horses or more; and his princely spouse, the Duchess Erdmuth, was a lady of munificent spirit, and flung away gold by handfuls; so that in a short time his Highness had run through all his forefathers' savings, and his incoming revenue was greatly diminished by the large annuity which he had to pay to old Duke Barnim. Therefore he summoned the states, and requested them to assist him with more money; but they gave answer that his Highness wanted prudence; he ought to tie his purse tighter. Why did he build that new castle of Friedrichswald? Was it ever heard in Pomerania that a prince needed two state residences? But his Highness never entered the treasury to look after the expenditure of the duchy--he did nothing but banquet, hunt, fish, and build. The states, therefore, had no gold for such extravagances. When his Highness had received this same answer two or three times from the states, he waxed wroth, and threatened to pronounce the _interdictum seculars_ over his poor land, and finally close the royal treasury and all the courts of justice, until the states would give him money. Now the old treasurer, Jacob Zitsewitz, who had quitted Wolgast to enter the service of his Grace, was so shocked at these proceedings, that he killed himself out of pure grief and shame. He was an upright, excellent man, this old Zitsewitz, though perchance, like old Duke Barnim, he loved the maidens and a lusty Pomeranian draught rather too well. And he foretold all the evil that would result from this same interdict; but his Highness resisted his entreaties; and when the old man found his warnings unheeded and despised, he stabbed himself, as I have said, there in the treasury, before his master's eyes, out of grief and shame. The misery which he prophesied soon fell upon the land; for it was just at that time that the great house of Loitz failed in Stettin, leaving debts to the amount of twenty tons of gold, it was said; by reason of which many thousand men, widows, and orphans, were utterly beggared, and great distress brought upon all ranks of the people. Such universal grief and lamentation never had been known in all Pomerania, as I have heard my father tell, of blessed memory; and as the princely treasury was closed, as also all the courts of justice, and no redress could be obtained, many misguided and ruined men resolved to revenge themselves; and this was now a welcome hearing to Johann Appelmann. For having given up all hope of the post of equerry, he made acquaintance with these disaffected persons, amongst whom was a miller, one Philip Konneman by name, a notorious knave. With this Konneman he sits down one evening in the inn to drink Rostock beer, begins to curse and abuse the reigning family, who had ruined and beggared the people even more than Hans Loitz. They ought to combine together and right themselves. Where was the crime? Their cause was good; and where there were no judges in the land, complaints would do little good. He would be their captain. Let him speak to the others about it, and see would they consent. He knew of many churches where there were jewels and other valuables still remaining. Also in Stargard, where his dear father played the burgomaster, there was much gold. So they fixed a night when they should all meet at Lastadie, [Footnote: A suburb of Stettin.] near the ducal fish-house; and Johann then goes to Sidonia to wheedle her out of the gold chain, for handsel for the robbers. "Now," he said, "the good old times were come back in Pomerania, when every one trusted to his own good sword, and were not led like sheep at the beck of another; for the treasury and all the courts of justice were closed. So the glorious times of knight-errantry must come again, such as their forefathers had seen." His companions had promised to elect him captain; but then he must give them handsel for that, and the gold chain would just sell for the sum he wanted. What use was it to her? If she gave it, then he would take her with him, and the first rich prize they got he would marry her certainly, and settle down in Poland afterwards, or wherever else she wished. That would be a glorious life, and she would never regret the young Duke. And had not all the nobles in old time led the same life, and so gained their castles and lands? But Sidonia began to weep. "Let him do what he would, she would never give the chain; and if he beat her, she would scream for help through the streets, and betray all his plans to the authorities. Now she saw plainly how she had been deceived. He had talked her out of all her gold, and now wanted to bring her to the gallows at last. No, never should he get the chain--it was all she had left; and she had determined at last to go and live quietly at her farm in Zachow, as soon as she could obtain a vehicle from Regenswald to Labes." When Johann heard this, he was terribly alarmed, and kissed her little hands, and coaxed and flattered her--"Why did she weep? There were plenty of herons' feathers now in the garden behind St. Mary's, for the birds were moulting. She could easily get some of them, and they were worth three times as much as the gold chain. Did she think it a crime to take a few feathers from that old sinner, Duke Barnim, or his girls? And if she really wished to leave him, she could sell the feathers even better in Dresden than here." It was all in vain. Sidonia continued weeping--"Let him talk as he liked, she would never give the chain. He was a knave through and through. Woe to her that she had ever listened to him! He was the cause of all her misery!" and so she went on. But the cunning fox would not give up his prey so easily. He now tried the same trick which he had played so successfully at Wolgast upon old Ulrich, and at Stargard upon his father; in short, he played the penitent, and began to weep and lament over his errors, and all the misery he had caused her. "It was, indeed, true that he was to blame for all; but if she would only forgive him, and say she pardoned him, he would devote his life to her, and revenge her upon all her enemies. The moment for doing so was nigh at hand; for the young lord, Prince Ernest, who had so shamefully abandoned her, was coming here to Stettin with his young bride, the Princess Hedwig of Brunswick, to spend the honeymoon, and would he not take good care to waylay them on their journey to Wolgast, and give them something to think of for the rest of their lives?" When Sidonia heard these tidings, her eyes flashed like a cat's in the dark. "Who told him that? She would not believe it, unless some one else confirmed the story." So he answered--"That any one could confirm it, for the whole castle was filled with workmen making preparations for their reception; the bridal chamber had been hung with new tapestry, and painters and carvers were busy all day long painting and carving the united arms of Pomerania and Brunswick upon all the furniture and glass." _Illa_.--"Well, she would go into the town to inquire, and if his tale were true, and that he swore to marry her, he should have the chain." _Ille_.--"There was a carver going by with his basket and tools--let her call him in, and hear what he said on the matter." So my cunning fellow called out to the workman, who stepped in presently with his basket, and assured the lady politely, that in fourteen days the young Duke of Wolgast and his princely bride were to arrive at the castle, for the Court Marshal had told him this himself, and given him orders to have a large number of glasses cut with their united arms ready with all diligence. When Sidonia heard this, and saw the glasses in his basket, she handed the golden chain to Johann, and the carver went his way. Then the aforesaid rogue fell down on his knees, swearing to marry her, and never to leave her more, for she had now given him all; and if this, too, were lost, she must beg her way to Zachow. So the gallows-bird went off with the chain, turned it into money, drank and caroused, and with the remainder set off for Lastadie, to meet the ringleaders, near the ducal fishhouse, as agreed upon. But Master Konneman had only been able to gather ten fellows together; the others held back, though they had talked so boldly at first, thinking, no doubt, that when the courts of justice were reopened, they would all be brought to the gallows. So Johann thought the number too small for his purposes, and agreed with the others to send an envoy to the robber-band of the Stargard Wood, proposing a league between them, and offering himself (Johann Appelmann, a knight of excellent family and endowments) as their captain. Should they consent, the said Johann would give them right good handsel; and on the appointed day, meet them in the forest, with his illustrious and noble bride; and as a sign whereby they should know him, he would whistle three times loudly when he approached the wood. Konneman undertook to be the bearer of the message, and returned in a few days, declaring that the robbers had received the proposal with joy. He found them encamped under a large nut-tree in the forest, roasting a sheep upon a spear, at a large fire. So they made him sit down and eat with them, and told him it was a right jolly life, with no ruler but the great God above them. Better to live under the free heaven than die in their squalid cabins. The band was strong, besides many who had joined lately, since the bankruptcy of Hans Loitz, and there were some gipsies too, amongst whom was an old hag who told fortunes, and had lately prophesied to the band that a great prize was in store for them; they had just returned with some booty from the little town of Damm, where they had committed a robbery. One of their party, however, had been taken there. When Johann heard the good result of his message, he summoned all his followers to another meeting at the ducal fish-house, gave them each money, and swore them to fidelity; then bid them disperse, and slip singly to the band, to avoid observation, and he would himself meet them in the forest next day. CHAPTER VIII. _How Johann and Sidonia meet an adventure, at Alten Damm--Item, of their reception by the robber-band._ Now Johann Appelmann had a grudge against the newly appointed equerry to his Highness, for the man had swilled his claret, and been foremost in his promises, and yet now had stepped into the place himself, and left Johann in the lurch. The knave, therefore, determined on revenge; so invented a story, how that his father, old Appelmann, had sent for him to give him half of all he was worth, and as he must journey to Stargard directly, he prayed his friend the equerry to lend him a couple of horses and a waggon out of the ducal stables, with harness and all that would be necessary, swearing that when he brought them back he would give him and his other friends such a carouse at the inn, as they had never yet had in their lives. And when the other asked, would not one horse be sufficient, Johann replied no, that he required the waggon for his luggage, and two horses would be necessary to draw it. _Summa_, the fool gives him two beautiful Andalusian stallions, with harness and saddles; _item_, a waggon, whereon my knave mounted next morning early, with Sidonia and her luggage, and took the miller, Konneman, with him as driver. But as they passed through Alten Damm, a strange adventure happened, whereby the all-merciful God, no doubt, wished to turn them from their evil way; but they flung His warnings to the wind. For the carl was going to be executed who belonged to the robber-band, that had committed a burglary there, in the town, some days previously. However, the gallows having been blown down by a storm, the linen-weavers, according to old usage, came to erect another. This angered the millers, who also began to erect one of their own, declaring that the weavers had only a right to supply the ladder, but they were to erect the gallows. A great fight now arose between weavers and millers, while the poor thief stood by with his hands tied behind his back, and arrayed in his winding-sheet. But the sheriffs, and whatever other honourable citizens were by, having in vain endeavoured to appease the quarrel, returned to the inn, to take the advice of the honourable council. Just at this moment Johann and Sidonia drove into the middle of the crowd, and the former leaped off and laughed heartily, for a miller had thrown down a poor lean weaver close behind the criminal, and was belabouring him stoutly with his floured fists, whilst the poor wretch screamed loudly for succour or assistance to the criminal, who answered in his _Platt Deutsch_, "I cannot help thee, friend, for, see, my hands are bound." Upon this, Johann draws his knife from his girdle, and slipping behind the felon, cuts the ropes binding him. He straightway, finding himself free, jumped upon the miller, and turned the flour all red upon his face with his heavy blows. Then he ran towards the waggon, but the guardsman caught hold of him by the shoulder, so the poor wretch left the winding-sheet in his hand, and jumping, naked as he was, on the back of one of the horses, set off, at top speed, to the forest, with Sidonia screaming and roaring fleeing with him. Millers and weavers now left off their wrangling, and joined together in pursuit, but in vain; the fellow soon distanced them all, and was lost to sight in the wood. When he had driven the waggon a good space, and still hearing the roaring of the people in pursuit, he stopped the horses, and jumped off, to take to his heels amongst the trees. Whereupon Konneman threw him a horse-cloth from the waggon, bidding him cover himself with it; so the carl snapped it up, and rolled it about his body with all alacrity. Now this horse-cloth was embroidered with the Pomeranian arms, and the poor Adam looked so absurd running away in such a garment, that Sidonia, notwithstanding all her fright, could not help bursting into a loud mocking laughter. Whereupon the crowd came up, cursing, swearing, and cursing, that the thief had escaped them; Johann Appelmann, who was amongst them, and was just in the act of stepping up to the waggon, when Prince Johann Frederick and a company of carbineers galloped up along with the chief equerry and a large retinue, all on their way to Friedrichswald. The Duke stopped to hear the cause of the tumult, and when they told him, he laughingly said, he would soon return with the gallows-knaves; then, turning to Appelmann, he asked who he was, and what brought him there? When Johann gave his name, and said he was going to Stargard, his Grace exclaimed, with surprise-- "So thou art the knave of whom I have heard so much; and this woman here, I suppose, is Sidonia? Pity of her. She is a handsome wench, I see." Then, as Sidonia blushed and looked down, he continued-- "And where did the fellow get these fine horses? Would he sell them?" Now Appelmann had a great mind to tell the truth, and say he got them from the equerry, who was already turning white with pure fear; but recollecting that he might come in for some of the punishment himself, besides hoping to play a second trick upon his Highness, he answered, that his father at Stargard had made them a present to him. The Duke, now turning to his equerry, asked him-- "Would not these horses match his Andalusian stallions perfectly?" And as the other tremblingly answered, "Yes, perfectly," his Grace demanded if the knave would sell them. _Ille_.--"Oh yes; to gratify his Serene Highness the Duke, he would sell the horses for 3000 florins." "Let it be so," said the Duke; "but I must owe thee the money, fellow." _Ille_.--"Then he would not make the bargain, for he wanted the money directly to take him to Stargard." So the Duke frowned that he would not trust his own Prince; and as Appelmann attempted to move off with the waggon, his Highness took his plumed cap from his head, and cutting off the diamond agrafe with his dagger, flung it to him, exclaiming-- "Stay! take these jewels, they are worth 1300 florins, but leave me the horses." Now the chief equerry nearly fell from his horse with shame as the knave picked up the agrafe, and shoved it into his pocket, then humbly addressing his Highness, prayed for permission just to leave the maiden and her luggage in Stargard, and then he would return instantly with both horses, and bring them himself to his gracious Highness at Friedrichswald. The Duke having consented, the knave sprang up upon the waggon, and turning off to another road, drove away as hard as he could from the scene of this perilous adventure. After some time he whistled, but receiving no response, kept driving through the forest until evening, when a loud, shrill whistle at last replied to his, and on reaching a cross-road, he found the whole band dancing with great merriment round a large sign-board which had been stuck up there by the authorities, and on which was painted a gipsy lying under the gallows, while the executioner stood over him in the act of applying the torture, and beneath ran the inscription-- "Gipsy! from Pomerania flee, Or thus it shall be done to thee." These words the robber crew had set to some sort of rude melody, and now sang it and danced to it round the sign, the fellow with the horse-cloth in the midst of them, the merriest of them all. The moment they got a glimpse of their captain, men, women, and children ran off like mad to the waggon, clapping their hands and shouting, "Huzzah! huzzah! what a noble captain! Had he brought them anything to drink?" And when he said "Yes," and handed out three barrels of wine, there was no end to the jubilee of cheering. Then he must give them handsel, and after that they would make a large fire and swear fealty to him round it, as was the manner of the gipsies, for the band was mostly composed of gipsies, and numbered about fifty men altogether. _Summa_.--A great fire was kindled, round which they all took the oath of obedience to their captain, and he swore fidelity to them in return. Then a couple of deer were roasted; and after they had eaten and drunk, the singing and dancing round the great sign-board was resumed, until the broad daylight glanced through the trees. People may see from this to what a pitch of lawlessness and disorder the land came under the reign of Duke Johann. For, methinks, these robbers would never have dared to make such a mock of the authorities, only that my Lord Duke had shut up all the courts of justice in the kingdom. During their jollity, our knave Appelmann cast his eyes upon a gipsy maiden, called the handsome Sioli; a tall, dark-eyed wench, but with scarcely a rag to cover her. Therefore he bade Sidonia run to her luggage, and take out one of her own best robes for the girl; but Sidonia turned away in great wrath, exclaiming-- "This was the way he kept his promise to her. She had given him all, and followed him even hither, and yet he cared more for a ragged gipsy girl than for her. But she would go away that very night, anywhere her steps might lead her, if only away from her present misery. Let him give her the Duke's diamonds, and she would leave him all the herons' feathers, and never come near him any more." But my knave only laughed, and bid her come take the diamonds if she wanted them, they were in his bosom. Then the gipsy girl and her mother, old Ussel, began to mock the fine lady. So Sidonia sat there weeping and wringing her hands, while Johann laughed, danced, drank, and kissed the gipsy wench, and finally threatened to go and take a robe himself out of the luggage, if Sidonia did not run for one instantly. However, she would not stir; so Konnemann, the miller, took pity on her, and would have remonstrated, but Johann cut him short, saying-- "What the devil did he mean? Was he not the captain? and why should Konnemann dare to interfere with him?" Then he strode over to the waggon to plunder Sidonia's baggage, which, when she observed, her heart seemed to break, and she kneeled down, lifted up her hands, and prayed thus:-- "Merciful Creator, I know Thee not, for my hard and unnatural father never brought me to Thee; therefore on his head be my sins. But if Thou hast pity on the young ravens, who likewise know Thee not, have pity upon me, and help me to leave this robber den with Thy gracious help." Here such a shout of laughter resounded from all sides, that she sprang up, and seizing the best bundle in the waggon, plunged into the wood, with loud cries and lamentation; whilst Appelmann only said-- "Never heed her, let her do as she pleases; she will be back again soon enough, I warrant." Accordingly, scarcely an hour had elapsed, when the unhappy maiden appeared again, to the great amusement of the whole band, who mocked her yet more than before. She came back crying and lamenting-- "She could go no further, for the wolves followed her, and howled round her on all sides. Ah! that she were a stone, and buried fathoms deep in the earth! That shameless knave, Appelmann, might indeed have pitied her, if he hoped for pity from God; but had he not taken her robe to put it on the gipsy beggar? She nearly died of shame at the sight. But she would never forgive the beggar's brat to the day of judgment for it. All she wanted now was some good Christian to guide her out of the wild forest. Would no one come with her? that was all she asked." And so she went on crying, and lamenting in the deepest grief. _Summa_.--When the knave heard all this, his heart seemed to relent; perhaps he dreaded the anger of her relations if she were treated too badly, or, mayhap, it was compassion, I cannot say; but he sprang up, kissed her, caressed her, and consoled her. "Why should she leave them? He would remain faithful and constant to her, as he had sworn. Why should the gown for the beggar-girl anger her? When they get the herons' feathers on the morrow, he would buy her ten new gowns for the one he had taken." And so he continued in his old deceiving way, till she at last believed him, and was comforted. Here the roll of a carriage was heard, and as many of the band as were not quite drunk seized their muskets and pikes, and rushed in the direction of the sound. But behold, the waggon and horses, with all Sidonia's luggage, was off! For, in truth, the equerry, seeing Johann's treachery, had secretly followed him, hiding himself in the bushes till it grew dark, but near enough to observe all that was going on; then, watching his opportunity, and knowing the robbers were all more or less drunk, he sprang upon the waggon, and galloped away as hard as he could. Johann gave chase for a little, but the equerry had got too good a start to be overtaken; and so Johann returned, cursing and raging, to the band. Then they all gathered round the fire again, and drank and caroused till morning dawned, when each sought out a good sleeping-place amongst the bushwood. There they lay till morn, when Johann summoned them to prepare for their excursion to the Duke's gardens at Zachan. CHAPTER IX. _How his Highness, Duke Barnim the elder, went a-hawking at Marienfliess--Item, of the shameful robbery at Zachan, and how burgomaster Appelmann remonstrates with his abandoned son._ After Duke Barnim the elder had resigned the government, he betook himself more than ever to field-sports; and amongst others, hawking became one of his most favourite pursuits. By this sport, he stocked his gardens at Zachan with an enormous number of herons, and made a considerable sum annually by the sale of the feathers. These gardens at Zachan covered an immense space, and were walled round. Within were many thousand herons' nests; and all the birds taken by the falcons were brought here, and their wings clipped. Then the keepers fed them with fish, frogs, and lizards, so that they became quite tame, and when their wings grew again, never attempted to leave the gardens, but diligently built their nests and reared their young. Now, though it cost a great sum to keep these gardens in order, and support all the people necessary to look after the birds, yet the Duke thought little of the expense, considering the vast sum which the feathers brought him at the moulting season. Accordingly, during the moulting time, he generally took up his abode at a castle adjoining the gardens, called "The Stone Rampart," to inspect the gathering in of the feathers himself; and he was just on his journey thither with his falconers, hunters, and other retainers, when the robber-band caught sight of him from the wood. His Highness was seated in an open carriage, with Trina Wehlers, the baker's daughter, by his side; and Sidonia, who recognised her enemy, instantly entreated Johann to revenge her on the girl if possible; but, as he hesitated, the old gipsy mother stepped forward and whispered Sidonia, "that she would help her to a revenge, if she but gave her that little golden smelling-bottle which she wore suspended by a gold chain on her neck." Sidonia agreed, and the revenge soon followed; for the Duke left the carriage, and mounted a horse to follow the chase, the falconer having unloosed a couple of hawks and let them fly at a heron. Trina remained in the coach; but the coachman, wishing to see the sport, tied his horses to a tree, and ran off, too, after the others into the wood. The hawk soared high above the heron, watching its opportunity to pounce upon the quarry; but the heron, just as it swooped down upon it, drove its sharp bill through the body of the hawk, and down they both came together covered with blood, right between the two carriage horses. No doubt this was all done through the magic of the gipsy mother; for the horses took fright instantly, plunged and reared, and dashed off with the carriage, which was over-turned some yards from the spot, and the baker's daughter had her leg broken. Hearing her screams, the Duke and the whole party ran to the spot; and his Highness first scolded the coachman for leaving his horses, then the falconer for having let fly his best falcon, which now lay there quite dead. The heron, however, was alive, and his Grace ordered it to be bound and carried off to Zachan. The baker's daughter prayed, but in vain, that the coachman might be hung upon the next tree. Then they all set off homeward, but Trina screamed so loudly, that his Grace stopped, and ordered a couple of stout huntsmen to carry her to the neighbouring convent of Marienfliess, where, as I am credibly informed, in a short time she gave up the ghost. Now, the robber-band were watching all these proceedings from the wood, but kept as still as mice. Not until his Grace had driven off a good space, and the baker's daughter had been carried away, did they venture to speak or move; then Sidonia jumped up, clapping her hands in ecstasy, and mimicking the groans and contortions of the poor girl, to the great amusement of the band, who laughed loudly; but Johann recalled them to business, and proposed that they should secretly follow his Highness, and hide themselves at Elsbruck, near the water-mill of Zachan, until the evening closed in. In order also to be quite certain of the place where his Grace had laid up all the herons' feathers of that season, Johann proposed that the miller, Konnemann, should visit his Grace at Zachan, giving out that he was a feather merchant from Berlin. Accordingly, when they reached Elsbruck, the miller put on my knave's best doublet (for he was almost naked before), and proceeded to the Stone Rampart, Sidonia bidding him, over and over again, to inquire at the castle when the young Lord of Wolgast and his bride were expected at Stettin. The Duke received Konnemann very graciously, when he found that he was a wealthy feather merchant from Berlin, who, having heard of the number and extent of his Grace's gardens at Zachan, had come to purchase all the last year's gathering of feathers. Would his Highness allow him to see the feathers? _Summa_.--He had his wish; for his Grace brought him into a little room on the ground-floor, where lay two sacks full of the most perfect and beautiful feathers; and when the Duke demanded a thousand florins for them, the knave replied, "That he would willingly have the feathers, but must take the night to think over the price." Then he took good note of the room, and the garden, and all the passages of the castle, and so came back in the twilight to the band with great joy, assuring them that nothing would be easier than to rob the old turner's apprentice of his feathers. Such, indeed, was the truth; for at midnight my knave Johann, with Konnemann and a few chosen accomplices, carried away those two sacks of feathers; and no one knew a word about the robbery until the next morning, when the band were far off in the forest, no one knew where. But a quarrel had arisen between my knave and Sidonia over the feathers: she wanted them for herself, that she might turn them into money, and so be enabled to get back to her own people; but Johann had no idea of employing his booty in this way. "What was she thinking of? If those fine stallions, indeed, had not been stolen from him, he might have given her the feathers; but now there was nothing else left wherewith to pay the band--she must wait for another good prize. Meantime they must settle accounts with the young Lord of Wolgast, who, as Konnemann had found out, was expected at Stettin in seven days." Now, the daring robbery at Zachan was the talk of the whole country, and as the old burgomaster, Appelmann, had heard at Friedrichswald about the horses and waggon, and his son's shameful knavery, he could think of nothing else but that the same rascal had stolen the Duke's feathers at So he took some faithful burghers with him, and set off for the forest, to try and find his lost son. At last, after many wanderings, a peasant, who was cutting wood, told them that he had seen the robber-band encamped in a thick wood near Rehewinkel; [Footnote: Two miles and a half from Stargard, and the present dwelling-place of the editor.] and when the miserable father and his burghers arrived at the place, there indeed was the robber-band stretched upon the long grass, and Sidonia seated upon the stump of a tree--for she must play the lute, while Johann, his godless son, was plaiting the long black hair of the handsome Sioli. Methinks the knave must have felt somewhat startled when his father sprang from behind an oak, a dagger in his hand, exclaiming loudly, "Johann, Johann, thou lost, abandoned son! is it thus I find thee?" The knave turned as white as a corpse upon the gallows, and his hands seemed to freeze upon the fair Sioli's hair; but the band jumped up and seized their arms, shouting, "Seize him! seize him!" The old man, however, cared little for their shouts; and still gazing on his son, cried out, "Dost thou not answer me, thou God-forgetting knave? Thou hast deceived and robbed thy own Prince. Answer me--who amongst all these is fitter for the gallows than thou art?" So my knave at last came to his senses, and answered sullenly, "What did he want here? He had done nothing for him. He must earn his own bread." _Ille_.--"God forgive thee thy sins; did I not take thee back as my son, and strive to correct thee as a true and loving father? Why didst thou run away from my house and the writing-office?" _Hic._--"He was born for something else than to lead the life of a dog." _Ille_.--"He had never made him live any such life; and even if he had, better live like a dog than as a robber wolf." _Hic_.--"He was no robber. Who had belied him so? He and his friends were on their way to Poland to join the army." _Ille_.--"Wherefore, then, had he tricked his Highness of Stettin out of the horses?" _Hic_.--"That was only a revenge upon the equerry, to pay him back in his own coin, for he was his enemy, and had broken faith with him." _Ille_.--"But he had robbed his Grace Duke Barnim, likewise, of the herons' feathers. No one else had done it." _Hic_.--"Who dared to say so? He was insulted and belied by every one." Then he cursed and swore that he knew nothing whatever of these herons' feathers which he was making such a fuss about. Meanwhile the band stood round with cocked muskets, and as the burghers now pressed forward, to save their leader, if any violence were offered, Konnemann called out, "Give the word, master--shall I shoot down the churl?" Here Johann's conscience was moved a little, and he shouted, "Back! back!--he is my father!" But the old gipsy mother sprang forward with a knife, crying, "Thy father, fool?--what care we for thy father? Let me at him, and I'll soon settle thy father with my knife." When the unfortunate son heard and saw this, he seized a heavy stick that lay near him, and gave the gipsy such a blow on the crown, that she rolled, screaming, on the ground. Whereupon the whole band raised a wild yell, and rushed upon the burgomaster. Then Johann cried, almost with anguish, "Back! back! he is my father! Do ye not remember your oaths to me? Spare my father! Wait, at least; he has something of importance to tell me." And at last, though with difficulty, he succeeded in calming these children of Belial. Then drawing his father aside, under the shade of a great oak, he began--"Dearest father mine, it was fear of you, and despair of the future, that drove me to this work; but if you will now give me three hundred florins, I will go forth into the wide world, and take honourable service, wherever it is to be had, during the wars." _Ille_.--"Had he yet married that unfortunate Sidonia, who he observed, to his surprise, was still with him?" _Hic_.--"No; he could never marry the harlot now, for she had run away from old Duke Barnim, and followed him here to the forest." _Ille_.--"What would become of her, then, when he joined the army?" _Hic_.--"That was her look-out. Let her go to her farm at Zachow." Hereupon the old man held his peace, and rested his arm against the oak, and his grey head upon his arm, and looked down long upon the grass without uttering a word; then he sighed deeply, and looking up, thus addressed Johann:-- "My son, I will trust thee yet again; but it shall be the last time; therefore take heed to what I say. Between Stargard and Pegelow there stands an old thorn upon the highway; there, to-morrow evening, by seven of the clock, my servant Caspar, whom thou knowest, shall bring thee three hundred florins; but on this one condition, that thou dost now swear solemnly to abandon this villainous robber-band, and seek an honourable living far away, in some other country, where thou must pray daily to God the Lord, to turn thee from thy evil ways, and help thee by His grace." So the knave knelt down before his father, wept, and prayed for his father's forgiveness; then swore solemnly to abandon his sinful life, and with God's help to perform all that his father had enjoined. "And would he not give his last farewell to his dear, darling mother?" "Thy mother!--ah, thy mother!" sighed the old man; "but rise, now, and let me and mine homewards. God grant that my eyes have beheld thee for the last time. Come, I will take this Sidonia back with me." So they forthwith joined the robber crew again, who were still making a great uproar, which, however, Johann appeased, and after some time obtained a free passage for his father and the burghers; but Sidonia would not accompany them. The upright old burgomaster admonished first, then he promised to drive her with his own horses to her farm at Zachow; but his words were all in vain, for the knave privately gave her a look, and whispered something in her ear, but no one knew what it was. Nor did the old man omit to admonish the whole band likewise, telling them that if they did not now look up to the high God, they would one day look down from the high gallows, for all thieves and robbers came to dance in the wind at last: ten hung in Stargard, and he had seen twenty at Stettin, and not even the smallest town had its gallows empty. Hereat Konnemann cried out, "Ho! ho! who will hang us now? We know well the courts of justice are closed in all places." And as the old man sighed, and prepared to answer him, the whole band set up such a shout of laughter that he stood silent a space; then turning round, trod slowly out of the thick wood with all his burghers, and was soon lost to view. The next evening Johann received the three hundred florins at the thorn-bush, along with a letter from his father, admonishing him yet again, and conjuring him to fulfil his promise speedily of abandoning his wicked life. Upon which, my knave gave some of the money to a peasant that he met on the highway, and bid him go into the town, purchase some wine and all sorts of eatables, and fetch them to the band in the wood, that they might have a merry carouse that same night. This very peasant had been one of their accomplices, and great was his joy when he beheld them all again, and, in particular, the gipsy mother. He told her that all her prophecy had come out true, for his daughter had been deserted, and her lover had taken Stina Krugers to wife; could she not, therefore, give him something that would make Stina childless, and cause her husband to hate her? "Ay, if he crossed her hand with silver." This the peasant did. Whereupon she gave him a padlock, and whispered some words in his ear. When Sidonia heard that the man could be brought to hate his wife by some means, her eyes flashed wildly, and she called the horrible old gipsy mother aside, and asked her to tell her the charm. _Illa_.--"Yes; but what would she give her? She had two pretty golden rings on her finger; let her give them, and she should have the secret." _Hæc_.--"She would give one ring now, and the other if the charm succeeded. The peasant had only given her a few groschen." _Illa_.--"Yes; but she had only given him half the charm." _Hæc_.--"Was it anything to eat or drink?" _Illa_.--"No; there was no eating or drinking: the charm did it all." _Hæc_.--"Then let her teach it to her, and if it succeeded by the young Lord of Wolgast, she would have both rings; if not, but one." _Illa_.--"It would succeed without doubt; if his young wife had no promise of offspring as yet, she would remain childless for ever." _Summa_.--The old gipsy taught her the charm, the same with which she afterward bewitched the whole princely Pomeranian race, so that they perished childless from off the face of the earth; [Footnote: Marginal note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.--"O ter quaterque detestabilem! Et ego testis adfui tametsi in actis de industria hand notatis. (Oh, thrice accursed! And I, too, was present at this confession, although I am not mentioned in the protocol.)"] and this charm Sidonia confessed upon the rack afterwards, in the Great Hall of Oderburg, July 28, A.D. 1620. CHAPTER X. _How the robbers attack Prince Ernest and his bride in the Uckermann forest, and Marcus Bork and Dinnies Kleist come to their rescue._ The young Lord of Wolgast and his young bride, the Princess Sophia Hedwig, arrived in due time at the court of Stettin, on a visit to their illustrious brother, Duke Johann Frederick. During the ten days of their stay, there was no end to the banquetings, huntings, fishings, and revellings of all kinds, to do honour to their presence. The young lord has quite recovered from his long and strange illness. But the young bride complains a little. Whereupon my Lord of Stettin jests with her, and the courtiers make merry, so that the young bride blushes and entreats her husband to take her away from this impudent court of Stettin, and take her home to his illustrious mother at Wolgast. Prince Ernest consents, but as the wind is contrary, he arranges to make the journey with a couple of carriages through the Uckermann forest, not waiting for the grand escort of cavaliers and citizens which his lady mother had promised to send to Stettin, to convey the bride with all becoming honour to her own future residence at Wolgast. His brother reminded him of the great danger from the robber-band in the wood, now that the courts of justice were closed, and that Sidonia and Johann were hovering in the vicinity, ready for any iniquity. Indeed, he trusted the states would soon be brought to reason by the dreadful condition of the country, and give him the gold he wanted. These robbers would do more for him than he could do for himself. And this was not the only band that was to be feared; for, since the fatal bankruptcy of the Loitz family, robbers, and partisans, and freebooters had sprung up in every corner of the land. Then he related the trick concerning his two Andalusian stallions. And Duke Barnim the elder told him of his loss at Zachan, and that no one else but the knave Appelmann had been at the bottom of it. So, at last, Prince Ernest half resolved to await the escort from Wolgast. However, the old Duke continued jesting with the bride, after his manner, so that the young Princess was blushing with shame every moment, and finally entreated her husband to set off at once. When his Grace of Stettin found he could prevail nothing, he bade them a kind farewell, promising in eight days to visit them at Wolgast, for the wedding festivities; and he sent stout Dinnies Kleist, with six companions, to escort them through the most dangerous part of the forest, which was a tract extending for about seven miles. Now, when they were half-way through the forest, a terrible storm came on of hail, rain, thunder, and lightning; and though the Prince and his bride were safe enough in the carriage, yet their escort were drenched to the skin, and dripped like rivulets. The princely pair therefore entreated them to return to Falkenwald, and dry their clothes, for there was no danger to be apprehended now, since they were more than half through the wood, and close to the village of Mutzelburg. So Dinnies and his companions took their leave, and rode off. Shortly after the galloping of a horse was heard, and this was Marcus Bork; for he was on his way to purchase the lands of Crienke, previous to his marriage with Clara von Dewitz, and had a heavy sack of gold upon his shoulder, and a servant along with him. Having heard at Stettin that the Prince and his young bride were on the road, he had followed them, as fast as he could, to keep them company. By this time they had reached Barnim's Cross, and the Prince halted to point it out to his bride, and tell her the legend concerning it; for the sun now shone forth from the clouds, and the storm was over. But he first addressed his faithful Marcus, and asked, had he heard tidings lately of his cousin Sidonia? But he had heard nothing. He would hear soon enough, I'm thinking. Then seeing that his good vassal Marcus was thoroughly wet, his Grace advised him to put on dry clothes; but he had none with him. Whereupon his Grace handed him his own portmanteau out of the coach window, and bid him take what he wanted. Marcus then lifted the money-bag from his shoulder, which his Grace drew into the coach through the window--and sprang into the wood with the portmanteau, to change his clothes. While the Prince tarried for him, he related the story of Barnim's Cross to his young wife, thus:-- "You must know, dearest, that my ancestor, Barnim, the second of the name, was murdered, out of revenge, in this very spot by one of his vassals, named Vidante von Muckerwitze. For this aforesaid ancestor had sent him into Poland under some pretence, in order the better to accomplish his designs upon the beautiful Mirostava of Warborg, Vidante's young wife. But the warder of Vogelsang, a village about two miles from here, pleasantly situated on the river Haff, and close to which lay the said Vidante's castle, discovered the amour, and informed the knight how he was dishonoured. His wrath was terrible when the news was brought to him, but he spoke no word of the matter until St. John's day in the year----" But here his Grace paused in his story, for he had forgotten the year; so he drove on the carriage close up to the cross, where he could read the date--"St John's day, A.D. MCCXCII."--and there stopped, with the blessed cross of our Lord covering and filling up the whole of the coach window. Ah, well it is said--Prov. xx. 24--"Each man's going is of the Lord, what man is there who understandeth his way?" Now when the Princess had read the date for herself, she asked, what had happened to the Duke, his ancestor? To which the Prince replied-- "Here, in these very bushes, the jealous knight lay concealed, while the Duke was hunting. And here, in this spot, the Duke threw himself down upon the grass to rest, for he was weary. And he whistled for his retinue, who had been separated from him, when the knight sprang from his hiding-place and murdered him where he lay. His false wife he reserved for a still more cruel death. "For he brought a coppersmith from Stettin, and had him make a copper coffin for the wretched woman, who was obliged to help him in the work. Then he bade her put on her bridal dress, and forced her to enter the coffin, where he had her soldered up alive, and buried. And the story goes, that when any one walks over the spot, the coffin clangs in the earth like a mass-bell, to this very day." Meanwhile Marcus had retreated behind a large oak, to dress himself in the young Duke's clothes; but the wicked robber crew were watching him all the time from the wood, and just as he drew the dry shirt over his head, before he had time to put on a single other garment, they sprang upon him with loud shouts, Sidonia the foremost of all, screaming, "Seize the knave! seize the base spy! he is my greatest enemy!" So Marcus rushed back to the coach, just as he was, and placing the cross as a shield between him and the robbers, cried out loudly to his Highness for a sword. The Prince would have alighted to assist him, but his young bride wound her arms so fast around him, shrieking till the whole wood re-echoed, that he was forced to remain inside. Up came the robber-band now, and attacked the coach furiously; musket after musket was fired at it and the horses, but luckily the rain had spoiled the powder, so they threw away their muskets, while Sidonia screamed, "Seize the false-hearted liar, who broke his marriage promise to me! seize his screaming harlot! drag her from the coach! Where is she?--let me see her!--we will cram her into the old oak-tree; there she can hold her marriage festival with the wild-cats. Give her to me!--give her to me! I will teach her what marriage is!" And she sprang wildly forward, while the others flung their spears at Marcus. But the blessed cross protected him, and the spears stuck in the wood or in the body of the carriage, while he hewed away right and left, striking down all that approached him, till he stood in a pool of blood, and the white shirt on him was turned to red. As Sidonia rushed to the coach, he wounded her in the hand, upon which, with loud curses and imprecations, she ran round to the other coach window, calling out, "Come hither, come hither, Johann! here is booty, here is the false cat! Come hither, and drag her out of the coach window for me!" And now Marcus Bork was in despair, for the coachman had run away from fear, and though his sword did good service, yet their enemies were gathering thick round them. So he bade the Princess, in a low voice, to tear open his bag of money, for the love of heaven, with all speed, and scatter the gold out of the windows with both hands; for help was near, he heard the galloping of a horse; could they gain but a few moments, they were saved. Thereupon the Princess rained the gold pieces from the window, and the stupid mob instantly left all else to fling themselves on the ground for the bright coins, fighting with each other as to who should have them. In vain Johann roared, "Leave the gold, fools, and seize the birds here in this cage; ye can have the gold after." But they never heeded him, though he cursed and swore, and struck them right and left with his sword. But Marcus, meanwhile, had nearly come to a sad end; for the old gipsy hag swore she would stab him with her knife, and while the poor Marcus was defending himself from a robber who had rushed at him with a dagger, she crept along upon the ground, and lifted her great knife to plunge into his side. Just then, like a messenger from God, comes the stout Dinnies Kleist, galloping up to the rescue; for after he had ridden a good piece upon the homeward road, he stopped his horse to empty the water out of his large jack-boots, for there it was plumping up and down, and he was still far from Falkenwald. While one of his men emptied the boots, another wandered through the wood picking the wild strawberries, that blushed there as red as scarlet along the ground. While he was so bent down close to the earth, the shrieks of my gracious lady reached his ear, upon which he ran to tell his master, who listened likewise; and finding they proceeded from the very direction where he had left the bridal pair, he suspected that some evil had befallen them. So springing into his saddle, he bade his fellows mount with ail speed, and dashed back to the spot where they had left the carriage. Marcus was just now fainting from loss of blood, and his weary hand could scarcely hold the sword, while his frame swayed back and forward, as if he were near falling to the ground. The gipsy hag was close beside him, with her arm extended, ready to plunge the knife into his side, when the heavy stroke of a sword came down on it, and arm and knife fell together to the ground, and Dinnies shouting, "Jodute! Jodute!" swung round his sword a second time, and the head of the robber carl fell upon the arm of the hag. Then he dashed round on his good horse to the other side of the carriage, hewed right and left among the stupid fools who were scraping up the gold, while his fellows chased them into the wood, so that the alarmed band left all this booty, and ran in every direction to hide themselves in the forest. In vain Johann roared, and shouted, and swore, and opposed himself single-handed to the knight's followers. He received a blow that sent him flying, too, after his band, and Sidonia along with him, so that none but the dead remained around the carriage. Thus did the brave Dinnies Kleist and Marcus Bork save the Prince and his bride, like true knights as they were; but Marcus is faint, and leans for support against the carriage, while before him lie three robber carls whom he had slain with his own hand, although he fought there only in his shirt; but the blessed cross had been his shield. And there, too, lay the gipsy's arm with the knife still clutched in the hand, but the hag herself had fled away; and round the brave Dinnies was a circle of dead men, seven in number, whom he and his followers had killed; and the earth all round looked like a ripe strawberry field, it was so red with blood. One can imagine what joy filled the hearts of the princely pair, when they found that all their peril was past. They alighted from the coach, and when the Princess saw Marcus lying there in a dead faint, with his garment all covered with blood, she lamented loudly, and tore off her own veil to bind up his wounds, and brought wine from the carriage, which she poured herself through his lips, like a merciful Samaritan; and when he at last opened his eyes, and kissed the little hands of the Princess out of gratitude, she rejoiced greatly. And the Prince himself ran to the wood for the portmanteau, which they found behind the oak, and helped to dress the poor knight, who was so weak that he could not raise a finger. Then they lifted him into the coach, while the Prince comforted him, saying, he trusted that he would soon be well again, for he would pray daily to the Lord Jesus for him, whose blessed cross had been their protection, and that he should have all his gold again, and the lands of Crienke in addition. So faithful a vassal must never be parted from his Prince, for inasmuch as he hated Sidonia, so he loved and praised him. They were like the two Judases in Scripture, of whom some one had said, "What one gave to the devil, the other brought back to God." And now he saw the wonderful hand of God in all; for if it had not rained, the powder of the robber-band would have been dry, and then they were all lost. _Item_, the knight would not have stopped to empty his boots, and they never would have heard the screams of his dear wife. _Item_, if he had himself not forgotten the date, he would never have driven up close to the cross, which cross had saved them all, but, in particular, saved their dear Marcus, after a miraculous manner. "Look how the blessed wood is everywhere pierced with spears, and yet we are all living! Therefore let us hope in the Lord, for He is our helper and defender!" Then the Duke turned to the stout Dinnies, and prayed him to enter his service, but in vain, for he was sworn vassal to his Highness of Stettin. So his Grace took off his golden collar, and put it on his neck, and the Princess drew off her diamond ring to give him, whereupon her spouse laughed heartily, and asked, Did she think the good knight had a finger for her little ring? To which she replied, But the brave knight may have a dear wife who could wear it for her sake, for he must not go without some token of her gratitude. However, the knight put back the ring himself, saying that he had no spouse, and would never have one; therefore the ring was useless. So the Princess wonders, and asks why he will have no spouse; to which he replied, that he feared the fate of Samson, for had not love robbed him of his strength? He, too, might meet a Delilah, who would cut off his long hair. Then riding up close to the carriage, he removed his plumed hat from his head, and down fell his long black hair, that was gathered up under it, over his shoulders like a veil, even till it swept the flanks of his horse. Would not her Grace think it a grief and sorrow if a woman sheared those locks? In such pleasant discourse they reached Mutzelburg, where, as the good Marcus was so weak, they resolved to put up for the night, and send for a chirurgeon instantly to Uckermund. And so it was done. CHAPTER XI. _Of the ambassadors in the tavern of Mutzelburg--Item, how the miller, Konnemann, is discovered, and made by Dinnies Kleist to act as guide to the robber cave, where they find all the women-folk lying apparently dead, through some devil's magic of the gipsy mother._ When their Highnesses entered the inn at Mutzelburg, they found it filled with burghers and peasants out of Uckermund, Pasewalk, and other adjacent places, on their way to Stettin, to petition his Grace the Duke to open the courts of justice, for thieves and robbers had so multiplied throughout the land, that no road was safe; and all kinds of witchcraft, and imposture, and devil's work were so rife, that the poor people were plagued out of their lives, and no redress was to be had, seeing his Grace had closed all the courts of justice. Forty burghers had been selected to present the petition, and great was the joy to meet now with his Grace Prince Ernest, for assuredly he would give them a letter to his illustrious brother, and strengthen the prayer of their petition. The Prince readily promised to do this, particularly as his own life and that of his bride had just been in such sore peril, all owing to the obstinacy of his Grace of Stettin in not opening the courts. Meanwhile the leech had visited good Marcus Bork, who was much easier after his wounds were dressed, and promised to do well, to the great joy of their Graces; and Dinnies Kleist went to the stable to see after his horse, there being so many there, in consequence of this gathering of envoys, that he feared they might fight. Now, as he passed through the kitchen, the knight observed a man bargaining with the innkeeper; and he had a kettle before him, into which he was cramming sausages, bread, ham, and all sorts of eatables. But he would have taken no further heed, only that the carl had but one tail to his coat, which made the knight at once recognise him as the very fellow whose coat-tail he had hewed off in the forest. He sprang on him, therefore; and as the man drew his knife, Dinnies seized hold of him and plumped him down, head foremost, into a hogshead of water, holding him straight up by the feet till he had drunk his fill. So the poor wretch began to quiver at last in his death agonies; whereupon the knight called out, "Wilt thou confess? or hast thou not drunk enough yet?" "He would confess, if the knight promised him life. His name was Konnemann; he had lost his mill and all he was worth, by the Loitz bankruptcy, therefore had joined the robber-band, who held their meeting in an old cave in the forest, where also they kept their booty." On further question, he said it was an old, ruined place, with the walls all tumbling down. A man named Muckerwitze had lived there once, who buried his wife alive in this cave, therefore it had been deserted ever since. Then the knight asked the innkeeper if he knew of such a place in the forest; who said, "Yes." Then he asked if he knew this fellow, Konnemann; but the host denied all knowledge of him (though he knew him well enough, I think). Upon which Konnemann said, "That he merely came to buy provisions for the band, who were hungry, and had despatched him to see what he could get, while they remained hiding in the cave." The knight having laid these facts before their Graces and the envoys, it was agreed that they should steal a march upon the robbers next morning, and meanwhile keep Konnemann safe under lock and key. Next morning they set off by break of day, taking Konnemann as guide, and surrounded the old ruin, which lay upon a hill buried in oak-trees; but not a sound was heard inside. They approached nearer--listened at the cave--nothing was to be heard. This angered Dinnies Kleist, for he thought the miller had played a trick on them, who, however, swore he was innocent; and as the knight threatened to give him something fresh to drink in the castle well, he offered to light a pine torch and descend into the cave. Hardly was he down, however, when they heard him screaming--"The robbers have murdered the women--they are all lying here stone dead, but not a man is to be seen." The knight then went down with his good sword drawn. True enough, there lay the old hag, her daughter, and Sidonia, all stained with blood, and stiff and cold, upon the damp ground. And when the knight asked, "Which is Sidonia?" the fellow put the pine torch close to her face, which was blue and cold. Then the knight took up her little hand, and dropped it again, and shook his head, for the said little hand was stiff and cold as that of a corpse. _Summa_.--As there was nothing further to be done here, the knight left the corpses to moulder away in the old cellar, and returned with the burghers to Mutzelburg, when his Highness wondered much over the strange event; but Marcus rejoiced that his wicked cousin was now dead, and could bring no further disgrace upon his ancient name. But was the wicked cousin dead? She had heard every word that had been said in the cave; for they had all drunk some broth made by the gipsy mother, which can make men seem dead, though they hear and see everything around them. Such devil's work is used by robbers sometimes in extremity, as some toads have the power of seeming dead when people attempt to seize them. It will soon be seen what a horrible use Sidonia made of this devil's potion. Wherefore she tried its effect upon herself now, I know not--I have my own thoughts upon the subject--but it is certain that the innkeeper, who was a secret friend of the robbers (as most innkeepers were in those evil times), had sent a messenger by night to warn them of their danger. So, while the band saved themselves by hiding in the forest, perhaps the old hag recommended this plan for the women, as they had got enough of cold steel the day before; or perhaps the robbers wished to have a proof of the power of this draught, in case they might want to save themselves, some time or other, by appearing dead. Still I cannot, with any certainty, assert why they should all three choose to simulate death. Further, just to show the daring of these robber-bands, now that his Highness had closed the courts, I shall end this chapter by relating what happened at Monkbude, a town through which their Highnesses passed that same day, and which, although close to the Stettin border, belongs to Wolgast. It was Sunday, and after the priest had said Amen from the pulpit, the sexton rung the kale-bell. This bell was a sign throughout all Pomerania land, to the women-folk who were left at home in the houses, to prepare dinner; for then, in all the churches, the closing hymn began--"Give us, Lord, our daily bread." So the maid, at the first stroke of the bell, lifted off the kale-pot from the fire, and had the kale dished, with the sausages, and whatever else was wanting, by the time that the hymn was over, and father and mother had come out of church. Then, whatever poor wretch had fasted all the week, and never tasted a morsel of blessed bread, if he passed on a Sunday through the town, might get his fill; for when the hymn is sung, "Give us, Lord, our daily bread," the doors lie open, and no stranger or wayfarer is turned away empty. Just before their Highnesses had entered the town, this kale-bell had been rung, and each maid in the houses had laid the kale and meat upon the table, ready for the family, when, behold! in rush a troop of robbers from the forest, Appelmann at their head--seize every dish with the kale and meat that had been laid on the tables, stick the loaves into their pockets, and gallop away as hard as they can across into the Stettin border. How the maids screamed and lamented I leave unsaid; but if any one of them followed and seized a robber by the hair, he drew his knife, so she was glad enough to run back again, while the impudent troop laughed and jeered. Thus was it then in dear Pomerania land! It seemed as if God had forsaken them; for the nobles began their feuds, as of old, and the Jews were tormented even to the death--yea, even the pastors were chased away, as if, indeed, they had all learned of Otto Bork, these nobles saying, "What need of these idle, prating swaddlers, with their prosy sermons and whining psalms, teaching, forsooth, that all men are equal, and that God makes no difference between lord and peasant? Away with them! If the people learn such doctrine, no wonder if they grow proud and disobedient--better no priests in the land." And such-like ungodly talk was heard everywhere. CHAPTER XII. _How the peasants in Marienfliess want to burn a witch, but are hindered by Johann Appelmann and Sidonia, who discover an old acquaintance in the witch, the girl Wolde Albrechts._ At this time, one David Grosskopf was pastor of Marienfliess. He was a learned and pious man, and like other pious priests, was in the habit of gathering all the women-folk of the parish in his study of a winter's evening, particularly the young maidens, with their spinning-wheels. And there they all sat spinning round the comfortable fire, while he read out to them from God's Word, and questioned them on it, and exhorted them to their duties. Thus was it done every evening during the winter, the maidens spinning diligently till midnight without even growing weary; or if one of them nodded, she was given a cup of cold water to drink, to make her fresh again. So there was plenty of fine linen by each New Year's day, and their masters were well pleased. No peasant kept his daughter at home, but sent her to the priest, where she learned her duties, and was kept safe from the young men. Even old mothers went there, among whom Trina Bergen always gave the best answers, and was much commended by the priest in consequence. This pleased her mightily, so that she boasted everywhere of it; but withal she was an excellent old woman, only the neighbours looked rather jealously on her. This same priest, with all his goodness and learning, was yet a bad logician; for by his careless speaking in one of his sermons, much commotion was raised in the village. In this sermon he asserted that anything out of the usual course of nature must be devil's work, and ought to be held in abhorrence by all good Christians: he suffered for this after-wards, as we shall see. On the Monday after this discourse, he journeyed into Poland, to visit a brother who dwelt in some town there, I know not which. Then arose a great talking amongst the villagers concerning the said Trina Bergen; for the cocks began to sit upon the eggs in place of the hens, in her poultry-yard, and all the people came together to see the miracle, and as it was against the course of nature, it must be devil's work, and Trina Bergen was a witch. In vain the old mother protested she knew nothing of it, then runs to the priest's house, but he is away; from that to the mayor of the village, but he is going out to shoot, and bid her and the villagers pack off with their silly stories. So the poor old mother gets no help, and meanwhile the peasants storm her house, and search and ransack every corner for proofs of her witchcraft, but nothing can be found. Stay! there in the cellar sits a woman, who will not tell her name. They drag her out, bring her up to the parlour, while the old mother sits wringing her hands. Who was this woman? and how did she come into the cellar? _Illa_.--"She had hired her to spin, because her daughter was out at service till autumn, and she could not do all the work herself." "Why then did she sit in the cellar, as if she shunned the light?" _Illa_.--"The girl had prayed for leave to sit there, because the screaming of the young geese in the yard disturbed her; besides, she had been only two days with her." "But who in the devil's name was the girl? It was easy to see she had bewitched the hens, for everything against the course of nature must be devil's work." _Illa_.--"Ah, yes! this must be the truth. Let them chase the devil away. Now she saw why the girl would not sit in the light, and had refused to enter the blessed church with her the day before." "What was her name? They should both be sent to the devil, if she did not tell the girl's name." _Illa_.--"Alas! she had forgotten it, but ask herself. Her story was, that she had been married to a peasant in Usdom, who died lately, and his relations then turned her out, that she was now going to Daber, where she had a brother, a fisher in the service of the Dewitz family, and wanted to earn a travelling penny by spinning, to convey her there." Now as the rumour of witchcraft spread through the village, all the people ran together, from every part, to Trina's house. And a pale young man pressed forward from amongst the crowd, to look at the supposed witch. When he stood before her, the girl cast down her eyes gloomily, and he cried out, "It is she! it is the very accursed witch who robbed me of my strength by her sorceries, and barely escaped from the fagot--seize her--that is Anna Wolde. Now he knew what the elder sticks meant, which he found set up as a gallows before his door this morning--the witch wanted to steal away his manhood from him again--burn her! burn her! Come and see the elder sticks, if they did not believe him!" So the whole village ran to his cottage, where he had just brought home a widow, whom he was going to marry, and there indeed stood the elder sticks right before his door in the form of a gallows, upon which the sheriff was wroth, and commanded the girl to be brought before him with her hands bound. But as she denied everything, Zabel Bucher, the sheriff, ordered the hangman to be sent for, to see what the rack might do in eliciting the truth. Further, he bade the people make a fire in the street, and burn the elder sticks therein. So the fire is lit, but no one will touch the sticks. Then the sheriff called his hound and bade him fetch them; but Fixlein, who was acute enough at other times, pretended not to know what his master wanted. In vain the sheriff bent down on the ground, pointing with his finger, and crying, "Here, Fixlein! fetch, Fixlein!" No, Fixlein runs round and round the elder sticks till the dust rises up in a cloud, and yelps, and barks, and jumps, and stares at his master, but never touches the sticks, only at last seizes a stone in his mouth, and runs with it to the sheriff. Now, indeed, there was a commotion amongst the people. Not even the dog would touch the accursed thing. So at last the sheriff called for a pair of tongs, to seize the sticks himself and fling them into the fire. Whereupon his wife screamed to prevent him; but the brave sheriff, strengthening his heart, advanced and touched them; whereupon Fixlein, as if he had never known until now what his master wanted, made a grab at them, but the sheriff gave him a blow on the nose with the tongs which sent him away howling, and then, with desperate courage and a stout heart, seizing the elder twigs in the tongs, flung them boldly into the fire. Meanwhile Peter Bollerjahn, the hangman, has arrived, and when he hears of the devilry he shakes his head, but thinks he could make the girl speak, if they only let him try his way a little. But they must first get authority from the mayor. Now the mayor had not gone to the hunt, for some friends arrived to visit him, whom he was obliged to stay at home and entertain, so the whole crowd, with the sheriff, Zabel Bucher, at the head, set off to the mayoralty, bringing the witch with them, and prayed his lordship to make a terrible example of her, for that witchcraft was spreading fearfully in the land, and they would have no peace else. Whereupon he came out with his guests to look at the miserable criminal, who, conscious of her guilt, stood there silent and glowering; but he could do nothing for them--did they not know that his Highness had closed all the courts of justice, therefore he could not help them, nor be troubled about their affairs? Upon which the sheriff cried out, "Then we shall help ourselves; let us burn the witch who bewitches our hens, and sticks up elder sticks before people's doors. Come, let us right ourselves!" So the mayor said they might do as they pleased, he had no power to hinder them, only let them remember that when the courts reopened, they would be called to a strict account for all this. And he went into his house, but the people shouted and dragged away the witch, with loud yells, to the hangman, bidding him stretch her on the rack before all their eyes. When the girl saw and heard all this, and remembered how the old Lord Chamberlain at Wolgast had stretched her till her hip was broken, she cried out, "I will confess all, only spare me the torture, for I dread it more than death." Upon this, the sheriff said, "He would ask her three questions, and pronounce judgment accordingly." (Oh! what evil times for dear Pomerania land, when the people could thus take the law into their own hands, and pronounce judgment, though no judges were there. Had the bailiff given her a little twist of the rack, just to get at the truth, it would at least have been more in accordance with the usages, although I say not he would have been justified in so doing; but without using the rack at all, to believe what this devil's wretch uttered, and judge her thereupon, was grossly improper and absurd.) _Summa_, here are the three questions:-- "First, whether she had bewitched the hens; and for what?" _Respond_.--"Simply to amuse herself; for the time hung heavy in the cellar, and she could see them through the chinks in the wall." (Let her wait; Master Peter will soon give her something to amuse her.) "Second, why and wherefore had she stuck up the elder twigs?" _Respond_.-"Because she had been told that Albert was going to marry a widow; for he had promised her marriage, as all the world knew, and even called her by his name, Wolde Albrechts, and therefore she had put a spell upon him of elder twigs, that he might turn away the widow and marry her." (Let her wait; Master Peter will soon stick up elder twigs for her.) "Third, whether she had a devil; and how was he named?" Here she remained silent, then began to deny it, but was reminded of the rack, and Master Peter got ready his instruments as if for instant use; so she sighed heavily, and answered, "Yes, she had a familiar called Jurge, and he appeared always in the form of a man." Upon this confession the sheriff roared, "Burn the witch!" and all the people shouted after him, "Burn the witch! the accursed witch!" and she was delivered over to Master Peter. But he made answer that he had never burned a witch; he would, however, go over to Massow in the morning, to his brother-in-law, who had burned many, and learn the mode from him. Meanwhile the peasants might collect ten or twelve clumps of wood upon the Koppenberg, and so would they frighten all women from practising this devil's magic. Would they not burn Trina Bergen likewise--the old hag who had the witch in her cellar? It would be a right pleasant spectacle to the whole town. This, however, the peasants did not wish. Upon which the carl asked what he was to be paid for his trouble? Formerly the state paid for the criminal, but the courts now would have nothing to do with the business. What was he to get? So the peasants consulted together, and at last offered him a sack of oats at Michaelmas, just that they might have peace in the village. Whereupon he consented to burn her; only in addition they must give him a free journey to Massow on the morrow. _Summa_.--When the third morning dawned, all the village came together to accompany the witch up the Koppenberg: the schoolmaster, with all his school going before, singing, "Now pray we to the Holy Ghost;" then came Master Peter with the witch, he bearing a pan of lighted coal in his hand. But, lo! when they reached the pile on the Koppenberg, behold it was wet wood which the stupid peasants had gathered. Now the hangman fell into a great rage. Who the devil could burn a witch with wet wood? She must have bewitched it. This was as bad as the hen business. Some of the people then offered to run for some dry wood and hay; but my knave saw that he might turn the matter to profit, so he proposed to sack the witch in place of burning her; "for," said he, "it will be a far more edifying spectacle and example to your children, this sacking in place of burning. There was a lake quite close to the town, and, indeed, he had forgotten yesterday to propose it to them. The plan was this. They were to tie her up in a leathern sack, with a dog, a cock, and a cat. (Ah, what a pity he had killed the wild-cat which he had caught some weeks before in the fox-trap.) Then they would throw all into the lake, where the cat and dog, and cock and witch, would scream and fight, and bite and scratch, until they sank; but after a little while up would come the sack again, and the screaming, biting, and fighting would be renewed until they all sank down again and for ever. Sometimes, indeed, they would tear a hole in the sack, which filled with water, and so they were all drowned. In any case it was a fine improving lesson to their children; let them ask the schoolmaster if the sacking was not a far better spectacle for the dear children than the burning." "Ay, 'tis true," cried the schoolmaster; "sacking is better." Upon which all the people shouted after him, "Ay, sack her! sack her!" When the knave heard this, he continued-- "Now, they heard what the schoolmaster said, but he could not do all this for a sack of oats, for, indeed, leather sacks were very dear just now; but if each one added a sack of meal and a goose at Michaelmas, why, he would try and manage the sacking. The lake was broad and deep, and it lay right beneath them, so that all the dear children could see the sight from the hill." However, the peasants would by no means agree to the sack of meal, whereupon a great dispute arose around the pile, and a bargaining about the price with great tumult and uproar. Now the robber-band were in the vicinity, and Sidonia, hearing the noise, peeped out through the bushes and recognised Anna Wolde; then, guessing from the pile what they were going to do to her, she begged of Johann to save the poor girl, if possible; for Sidonia and the knave were now on the best of terms, since he had chased away the gipsy hag and her daughter for robbing him. So Johann gives the word, and the band, which now numbered one hundred strong, burst forth from the wood with wild shouts and cries. Ho! how the people fled on all sides, like chaff before the wind! The executioner is the first off, throws away his pan of coals, and takes to his heels. _Item_, the schoolmaster, with all his school, take to their heels; the sheriff, the women, peasants, spectators-all, with one accord, take to their heels, screaming and roaring. The witch alone remains, for she is lame and cannot run; but she screams, too, and wrings her hands, crying-- "Take me with you; oh, take me with you; for the love of God take me with you; I am lame and cannot run!" _Summa_.--One can easily imagine how it all ended. The witch-girl was saved, and, as she now owed her life a second time to Sidonia, she swore eternal fidelity and gratitude to the lady, promising to give her something in recompense for all the benefits she had conferred on her. Alas, that I should have to say to Christian men what this was! [Footnote: Namely, the evil spirit Chim. See Sidonia's confession upon the rack, vol. iv. Dahnert's Pomeranian Library, p. 244.] And when Sidonia asked how things went on in Daber, great was her joy to hear that the whole castle and town were full of company, for the nuptials of Clara von Dewitz and Marcus Bork were celebrated there. And the old Duchess from Wolgast had arrived, along with Duke Johann Frederick, and the Dukes Barnim, Casimir, and Bogislaff. _Item_, a grand cavalcade of nobles had ridden to the wedding upon four hundred horses, and lords and ladies from all the country round thronged the castle. Now Johann Appelmann would not credit the witch-girl, for he had seen none of all this company upon the roads; but she said her brother the fisherman told her that their Graces travelled by water as far as Wollin, for fear of the robbers, and from thence by land to Daber. When Sidonia heard this she fell upon Johann's neck, exclaiming-- "Revenge me now, Johann! revenge me! Now is the time; they are all there. Revenge me in their blood!" This seemed rather a difficult matter to Johann, but he promised to call together the whole band, and see what could be done. So he went his way to the band, and then the evil-minded witch-girl began again, and told Sidonia, that if she chose to burn the castle at Daber, and make an end of all her enemies at once, there was some one hard by in the bush who would help her, for he was stronger than all the band put together. _Illa_.--"Who was her friend? Let her go and bring him." _Hæc_.--"She must first cross her hand with gold, and give a piece of money for him; [Footnote: According to the witches, every evil spirit must be purchased, no matter how small the price, but something must be given-a ball of worsted, a kerchief, &c.] then he would come and revenge her." Sidonia's eyes now sparkled wildly, and she put some money in the woman's hand, who murmured, "For the evil one;" then stepped behind a tree, and returned in a short time with a black cat wrapped up in her apron. "This," she said, "was the strong spirit Chim. [Footnote: Joachim.] Let her give him plenty to eat, but show him to no one. When she wanted his assistance, strike him three times on the head, and he would assume the form of a man. Strike him six times to restore him again to this form." Now Sidonia would scarcely credit this; so, looking round to see if they were quite alone, she struck the animal three times on the head, who instantly started up in the form of a gay young man, with red stockings, a black doublet, and cap with stately heron's plumes. "Yes, yes," he exclaimed, "I know thy enemies, and will revenge thee, beautiful child. I will burn the castle of Daber for thee, if thou wilt only do my bidding; but now, quick! strike me again on the head, that I may reassume my original form, for some one may see us; and put me in a basket, so can I travel with thee wheresoever thou goest." And thus did Sidonia with the evil spirit Chim, as she afterwards confessed upon the rack, when she was a horrible old hag of eighty-four years of age. And he went with her everywhere, and suggested all the evil to her which she did, whereof we shall hear more in another place. [Footnote: Dahnert.--This belief in the power of evil spirits to assume the form of animals, comes to us from remotest antiquity--example, the serpent in Paradise. In all religions, and amongst all nations, this belief seems firmly rooted; but even if we do not see a visible devil, do we not, alas! know and feel that there is one ever with us, ever pre-sent, ever suggesting all wickedness to us, as this devil to Sidonia?-even our own evil nature. For what else is the Christian life, but a warfare between the divine within us and this ever-present Satan?--and through God's grace alone can we resist this devil.] CHAPTER XIII. _Of the adventure with the boundary lads, and how one of them promises to admit Johann Appelmann into the castle of Daber that same night-Item, of what befell amongst the guests at the castle._ When Johann and Sidonia proposed to the band that they should pillage the castle of Daber, they all shouted with delight, and swore that life and limb might be perilled, but the castle should be theirs that night. Nevertheless my knave Johann thought it a dangerous undertaking, for they knew no one inside the walls, and Anna Wolde, the witch, could not come with them, seeing that she was lame. So at last he thought of sending Konnemann disguised as a beggar, to examine the courtyard and all the out offices--perchance he might spy out some unguarded door by which they could effect an entrance. Then Sidonia said she would go too, and although Johann tried hard to persuade her, yet she begged so earnestly for leave that finally he consented. Yes, she must see the very spot where the viper was hatched which had stung her to death. Ah, she would brew something for her in return; pity only that the wedding was over, otherwise the little bride should never have touched a wedding-ring, if she could help it; but it was too late now. So the three Satan's children slipped out upon the highway from the wood, and travelled on so near to the castle that the noise, and talking, and laughing, and barking of dogs, and neighing of horses, were all quite audible to their ears. Now the castle of Daber is built upon a hill which is entirely surrounded by water, so that the castle can be approached only by two bridges--one southwards, leading from the town; the other eastwards, leading direct through the castle gardens. The castle itself was a noble, lofty pile, with strong towers and spires--almost as stately a building as my gracious lord's castle at Saatzig. When Johann observed all this, his heart failed him, and as he and his two companions peeped out at it from behind a thorn-bush, they agreed that it would be hard work to take such a castle, garrisoned, as it was now, by four hundred men or more, with their mere handful of partisans. But Satan knows how to help his own, for what happened while they were crouching there and arguing? Behold, the old Dewitz, as an offering to the church at Daber upon his daughter's marriage, had promised twenty good acres of land to be added to the glebe. And he comes now up the hill, with a great crowd of men to dig the boundary. So the Satan's children behind the thorn-bush feared they would be discovered; but it was not so, and the crowd passed on unheeding them. Old Dewitz now called the witnesses, and bid them take note of the position of the boundary. There where the hill, the wild apple-tree, and the town tower were all in one line, was the limit; let them keep this well in their minds. Then calling over six lads, he bid them take note likewise of the boundary, that when the old people were dead they might stand up as witnesses; but as such things were easily forgotten, he, the priest, and the churchwarden would write it down for them, so that it never, by any chance, could escape their memory. Upon which the good knight, being lord and patron, took a stout stick the first, and cudgelled the young lads well, asking them between terms-- "Where is the boundary?" To which they answered, screaming and roaring-- "Where the hill, the apple-tree, and the town tower are all in one line." Then the knight, laughing, handed over the stick to the priest, saying-- "It was still possible they might forget; they better, therefore, have another little memorandum from his reverence." "No! no!" screamed the boys, "we will remember it to eternity." However, his reverence just gave them a little touch of the stick in fun, till they roared out the boundary marks a second time. But now stepped forth the churchwarden, to take his turn with the stick on the boys' backs. This man had been a forester of the old Baron Dewitz, and had often taken note of one of the young fellows present, how he had poached and stolen the buck-wheat, so he gladly seized this opportunity to punish him for all his misdeeds, and laying the cudgel on his shoulders, thrashed and belaboured him so unmercifully, that the lad ran, shrieking, cursing, howling, and roaring, far away in amongst the bushes to hide himself, while the churchwarden cried out-- "Well! if all the other lads forget the boundary, I think my fine fellow here will bear the memorandum to the day of judgment." And so they went away laughing from the place, and returned to the castle. But the devil drew his profit from all this, for where should the lad run to, but close to the very spot where the robbers were hiding, and there he threw himself down upon the grass, writhing and howling, and swearing he would be revenged upon the churchwarden. This is a fine hearing for my knave in the bush, so he steps forward, and asks-- "What vile Josel had dared to ill-treat so brave a youth? He would help him to a revenge upon the base knave, for injustice was a thing he never could suffer. The tears really were in his eyes to think that such wickedness should be in the world;" and here he pretended to wipe his eyes. So the lad, being quite overcome by such compassionate sympathy, howled and cried ten times more-- "It was the forester Kell, the shameless hound; but he would play him a trick for it." _Ille_.--"Right. He owed the fellow a drubbing already himself, and now he would have a double one, if he could only get hold of him." _Hic_.--"He would run and tell him that a great lord wanted to speak to him here in the forest." _Ille_.-"No, no; that would scarcely answer; but where did the fellow live?" _Hic_.-"In the castle, where his father lived likewise." _Ille_.-"Who was his father?" _Hic_.--"His father was the steward." _Ille_.--"Ah, then, he kept the keys of the castle?" _Hic_.--"Oh yes, and the key of the back entrance also, which led through the gardens. His father kept one key, and the gardener the other." _Ille_.--"Well, he would tell him a secret. This very Kell had deceived him once, like a knave as he was, and he was watching to punish him, but he daren't go up to the castle in the broad daylight, particularly now while the wedding was going on. How long would it last?" _Hic_.--"For three days more; it had lasted three days already, and the castle was full of company, and great lords from all the country round, a great deal grander even than old Dewitz, were there." _Ille_.--"Well, then, it would be quite impossible to go up to the castle and flog the churchwarden before all the company--he could see that himself. But supposing he let him in at night through the garden door, couldn't they get the knave out on some pretence, and then drub him to their heart's content?" So the lad was delighted with the plan, particularly on hearing that he was to help in the drubbing; but then if the forester recognised him, what was to be done? he would be ruined. To which Johann answered-- "Just put on an old cloak, and speak no word; then, neither by dress nor voice will he know thee; besides, the night will be quite dark, so fear nothing. We'll teach him, I engage, how to beat a fine young fellow again, or to rob me of my gold, as he did, the base, unworthy knave." Here the lad laughed outright with joy. "Yes, yes, that would just do; and he could put on his father's old mantle, and bring a stout crab-stick along with him." _Hic_.--"All right, young friend; but how was he to get into the castle garden? Was there not a drawbridge which was lifted every night?" _Hic._--"Oh yes; but his father very often sent him to draw it up, and he could leave it down for tonight; then he would get the forester, by some means, into the shrubbery, where it was dark as pitch, and they could thrash the dog there without any one knowing a word about it." _Ille._-"Good! Then when the tower-clock struck nine, let him come himself and admit him into the garden--time enough after to run for the forester, while he was hiding himself in the shrubbery, for no one must know a word about his being there." Then he gave the lad a knife, and told him if all turned out well he should have a piece of gold in addition. "Ah! they would give him a warm greeting, this dog of a forester! But after he had called him out, the lad must pretend as if he had nothing to do with the matter, and go back to the house, or slip down some by-path." So the lad jumped with joy when he got hold of the knife, and skipped off to the castle, promising to be at the drawbridge when nine o'clock struck from the tower, to admit his good friend into the garden. Meanwhile my gracious Lady of Wolgast was making preparations for her departure on the morrow from the castle, for she had been attending the wedding festivities with her four sons, and Ulrich, the Grand Chamberlain; but previous to taking leave of her dear son, Duke Johann Frederick, she wished to make one more attempt to induce him to take off the interdict from the country, and allow the courts of justice to be re-opened, for thus would the land be freed from these wild hordes who haunted every road, and filled all hearts with fear. For this purpose she went up to his own private chamber in the castle, bringing old Ulrich along with her; and when they entered, old Ulrich, having closed the door, began--"Now, gracious lady, speak to your son as befits a mother and your princely Grace to do." Upon which he took his seat at the table, looking around him as sour as a vinegar-cruet. So the Duchess lifted up her voice with many tears, and prayed his Highness of Stettin to stem all this violence that raged in the land, as a loving Prince and father towards his subjects. He had resisted all her entreaties until now, with those of his dear brothers and old Ulrich; and had not even his host and the whole nobility tried to soften his heart towards his people, who were suffering by his hard resolve? But surely he would not refuse her now, for she had come to take her leave of him, and had brought his old guardian and his brothers to plead along with her; besides, who knew what might happen next? For she heard, to her astonishment, that Sidonia was not dead at all, as they supposed, but roaming through the country with her accursed paramour. Had she known this, never would she have permitted this long journey, dear even as the bride was to her heart, but would have stayed at Wolgast to watch over her heart's dear son, Ernest, and his young spouse, who rightly feared to put themselves in danger again, after the sore peril they had encountered in the Stettin forest; and who knew what might happen to her on the journey homeward? for if she encountered Sidonia, what could she expect from her but the bitterest death? (weeping.) Ah, this all came upon them because the young Duke had despised the admonitions of his blessed father upon his death-bed, and thought not of that Scripture which saith, "The father's blessing buildeth the children's houses, but the curse of the mother pulleth them down." [Footnote: Sirach iii. II.] She had never cursed him yet, but that day might come. Then Duke Johann answered, "He was sad to see his darling mother chafe and fret about these same courts of justice, but his princely honour was pledged, and he could not retract one word until the states came back to their duty, and gave him the gold he demanded. For how could he stand before the world as a fool? He had begun this castle of Friedrichswald, and had ordered all kinds of statues, paintings, &c., from Italy, for which gold must be paid. How, then, if he had none?" "But those were idle follies," his mother answered, "and showed how true were the words of Solomon--'When a prince wanteth understanding, there is great oppression.'" [Footnote: Prov. xxviii. 16.] Here the Duke grew angry. "It was false; he did not want understanding. Well it was that no one had dared to say this to him but his mother." But my gracious lady could not hear him plainly; for his Serene Highness, Barnim the younger, who had drunk rather freely at dinner, began to snore so loudly, that he snored away a paper which lay before old Ulrich, upon which he had been sketching a list of _propositions_ for the reconciliation of the Duke and the estates of the kingdom. Hereupon the old chamberlain cursed and swore--"May the seven thousand devils take them! One snarls at his mother, and the other snores away his paper! Did the Prince think that Pomerania was like Saxony, when he began these fine buildings at Friedrichswald? His Grace had a house at Stettin; what did he want with a second? Was his Grace better than his forefathers? And would not his Grace have Oderburg when old Duke Barnim died? and castles and towns all round the land?" But the Duke answered proudly, "That Ulrich should remember his guardianship had ended. He knew himself what to do and what to leave undone." Herewith the young Lord Bogislaff broke in--"Yet, dearest brother, be advised by us. Bethink you how I resigned my chance of the duchy at the Diet of Wollin, and now I am ready to give you up the annuity which I then received, if it will help your necessities, and that you promise thereupon to release the land from the interdict, that all this fearful villainy and lawlessness which is devastating the country may have an end." _Ille_.--"Matters were not so bad as he thought; besides, why cannot the people defend themselves, and take care of their own skin?" _Hic_.--"So they do; but this only increased injustice and lawlessness." Then he related many examples of how the despairing people of the different towns had executed justice, after their own manner, upon the robbers who fell into their hands. In Stolpschen, for instance, three fellows had been caught plundering the corn, and the peasants nailed them up to a tree, and whipped them till they dropped down dead. Well might Satan laugh over the sin and wickedness that reigned now in poor Pomerania. _Item_, he related how the peasants in Marienfliess were going to burn a witch, without trial or sentence. _Item_, how many peasants and villagers had hung up their own bailiffs, or strangled them. _Item_, how the priests had been chased away from many places, so that they now had to beg their bread upon the highway; and in such towns God's service was no more heard, but each one lived as it pleased him, and the peasants did as they chose. And now he would ask his heart's dear brother, which would be more upright and honourable in the sight of the great God--to build up this castle of Friedrichswald, or to let it fall, and build up the virtue and happiness of his people? He could not build the castle without money, and he had none; but he could restore his land to peace and happiness by a word. Let him, then, open these long-closed courts of justice, for this was his duty as a Prince; and let him remember that every prince was ordained of God, and must answer to Him for his government. Hereupon the Stettin Duke made answer--"Pity, good Bogislaff, thou wert not a village priest! Hast thou finished thy sermon? Truly thou wert never meant for a prince, as we heard from thy own lips, the day of the Diet at Wollin. Thou hast no sense of princely honour, I see, but I stand by mine; and now, by my princely honour, I pledge my princely word, that, until the states give me the money, the land shall remain in all things as it is." Here old Ulrich sprang to his feet (while my gracious lady sobbed aloud), clapped the table, and roared--"Seven thousand devils, my lord! are we to be robbed and murdered by those vile cut-throats that infest the land, and your Grace will fold your hands and do nothing, till they drive your Grace yourself out of the land, or run a spear through your body, as they would have done to your princely brother of Wolgast, only he had faithful vassals to defend him? If it is so to be, then must the nobles make their petition to the Emperor, and we shall see if his Imperial Majesty cannot bring your Grace to reason, though your mother and we all have failed to move you." Here the little Casimir, who was playing with the paper which his brother had snored away, ran up to his mother, and pulling her by the gown, said, "Gracious lady mamma, what ails my brother, the Stettin Duke? Is he drunk, too?" At which they all laughed, except Duke Johann, who gave a kick to his little brother, and then strode out of the room, exclaiming, "Sooner my life than my honour; I shall stay here no longer to be tutored and lectured, but will take my journey homewards this very night." And so he departed, but by a small side-door, for old Ulrich had locked the chief door on entering. Now, indeed, her Grace wept bitterly: ah! she thought the evil had left her house, which the fatal business at her wedding had wrought on it, when Dr. Martinus dropped the ring; but, alas! it was only beginning now; and yet she could not curse him, for he was her son, and she had borne him in pain and sorrow. _Summa_.--If many were displeased at these proceedings of his Grace, so also was the Lord God, as was seen clearly by many strange signs; for on that same night Duke Barnim the elder died at Oderburg, and all the crosses, knobs, and spires throughout the whole town turned quite black, though they had only been newly gilded a year before, and no rain, lightning, or thunder had been observed. [Footnote: The Duke died 29th September 1573, aged 72 years.--_Micraelius_. 369.] But this was all clearly to show the anger of God over the sins of the young Duke, and by these signs He would admonish him to repentance, as a father might gently threaten a refractory child. As to what further happened his Grace when he went out by the little door, and the danger that befell him there, we shall hear more in another chapter. CHAPTER XIV. _How the knave Appelmann seizes his Serene Eminence Duke Johann by the throat, and how his Grace and the whole castle are saved by Marcus Bork and his young bride Clara; also, how Sidonia at last is taken prisoner._ The castle was now almost quite still, for as the festival had already lasted three days, the guests were pretty well tired of dancing and drinking, and most of them, like young Prince Barnim, had lain down to snore. Yet still there were many drinking in the great hall, or dancing in the saloon, for the fiddles fiddled away merrily until far in the night. And it was a beautiful night this one; not too dark, but starry, bright, and soft and still, so that Marcus and his young bride glided away from the dancing and drinking, to wander in the cool, fresh air of the shrubbery, before they retired to their chamber. So they passed down the broad path that led from the garden to the drawbridge by the water-mill, and seating themselves on a bank under the shade of the trees, began to kiss and caress, as may well become a young bridal pair to do. Soon they heard nine o'clock strike from the town, and immediately after, stealthy footsteps coming along the shrubbery towards them. They held their breath, and remained quite still, thinking it was some half-drunken guest from the castle wandering this way; but then the drawbridge was lowered, and three persons advanced to a youth, as they could see plainly. One said, "Now?" to which another answered, "No, when I whistle!" He who had so asked, then went back again, but Sidonia and my knave came on with the boundary lad over the bridge (for, of course, every one will have guessed them) and entered the shrubbery where the young bridal pair were seated, but perfectly hidden, by reason of the darkness. The boundary lad would now have drawn up the bridge, but the knave hindered him--"Let him leave it down; how would he escape else, if the carl roared, and all came running out of the castle to see what was the matter?" Then Sidonia asked the boy, if he thought the castle folk would hear him? To which he answered, no. They could thrash the hound securely, and he had brought a short cudgel with him for the purpose. Upon which my knave murmured to him, "Lead on, then; I must get out of this dark place to see what I am about. And when we get to the end of it, do you run and bring him out here. Then we shall both pay him off bravely." So they crept on in the darkness towards the castle, but the young wedded pair had plenty of time to recognise both Sidonia and Appelmann by their voices. Therefore Marcus argued truly that the knave and his paramour could be about no good, for the whole land rang with their wickedness. And, no doubt, the band was in the vicinity, because Appelmann had answered, "No, when I whistle!" So the good Marcus grew wroth over the villainy of this shameless pair, who had evidently resolved on nothing less than the destruction of the whole princely race, and even this castle of Daber was not to be spared, which belonged to his dear bride's father, so that their wicked purposes might be fulfilled. Then he whispered, did his dear wife know of any byway that led to the castle? as she was born here, perhaps some such little path might be known to her, so that she would escape meeting the villain. And as she whispered in return, "Yes, there was such a path," he bid her run along it quick as thought, have all the bells rung when she reached the castle, and even the cannon fired, which was ready loaded for the farewell salute to the Lady of Wolgast on the morrow; and to gather as many people together, of all stations and ages, as could be summoned on the instant, and let them shout "Murder! murder!" Meanwhile he would run and draw up the bridge, then track the fellow along the shrubbery, and seize him if possible. How Clara trembled and hesitated, as a young girl might; but soon collecting herself, she said, although with much agitation, "I will trust in God: the Lord is my strength, of whom then should I be afraid?" and plunged alone into the darkest part of the shrubbery. Marcus instantly ran down to the garden door, and began to draw up the bridge with as little noise as possible. "What are you doing?" called out a voice to him from the other side. "I hear steps," he answered, "and perchance it is the castellan on his rounds; he would discover all." So he draws up the bridge, and then glided along the shrubbery after my knave. Meanwhile Appelmann and Sidonia, with the boundary lad, had reached the door of the castle, through which he was determined to make good his entrance after the lad by any means. But at that very instant it opened, and my gracious lord Duke Johann Frederick stood before them. For it has been already mentioned, that he left the chamber in which the family council was held, by a small private door which led down to this portion of the castle. Here he was looking about for his court-jester, Clas Hinze, to bid him order the carriages to convey him and his suite that very night to Freienwald, and by chance opened this very door which led out to the shrubbery. Seeing no one from the darkness, the Duke called out, "Is Clas there?" to which Appelmann answered, "Yes, my lord" (for he had recognised the Duke by his voice), and at the same time he retreated a few steps into the shrubbery, hoping the Duke would follow him. But the Duke called out again, "Where art thou, Clas?" "Here!" responded Appelmann, retreating still further. Whereupon the boundary lad whispered, "That is not him!" His Grace, however, heard the whisper, and called out angrily, while he advanced from the door, "What meanest thou, knave? It is I who call! Art thou drunk, fool? If so, thou must have a bucket of water on thy head, for we ride away this night." So speaking, his Highness went on still further into the shrubbery, upon which my knave makes a spring at his throat and hurls him to the ground, while he gives a loud, shrill whistle through the fingers of his other hand. Now the boundary lad screamed in earnest; but Sidonia threatened him, and bade him hold his tongue, and run for the other fellows, and not mind them. But she screamed yet louder herself, when a powerful arm seized her round the waist, and she found herself in the grasp of Marcus Bork. Appelmann, who had stuffed his kerchief into the Duke's mouth to stifle his cries, and placed one knee upon his breast, now sprang up in terror at her scream, while at the same instant the bells rang, the cannon was fired, and all the court was filled with people shouting, "Murder! murder!" So he let go his hold of the Duke, and without waiting to release Sidonia, darted down the shrubbery, reached the bridge, and finding it raised, plunged into the water, and swam to the other side. And here we see the hand of the all-merciful God; for had the bridge been down, the band would have rushed over at their captain's whistle, and then, methinks, there would have been a sad end to the whole princely race, for, as I have said, half the guests were drunk and half were snoring, so that but for Marcus this evil and accursed woman would have destroyed them all, as she had sworn. True, they were destroyed by her at last, but not until God gave them over to destruction, in consequence of their sins, no doubt, and of the wickedness of the land. _Summa_.--When my gracious lord felt himself free, he sprang up, crying, "Help! help!" and ran as quick as he could back into the castle. Marcus Bork followed with Sidonia, who drew a knife to stab him, but he saw the glitter of the blade by the light of the lanterns (for one can easily imagine that the bells and the cannon had brought all the snorers to their legs), and giving her a blow upon the arm that made her drop the knife, dragged her through the little door, after the Duke, as fast as he was able. So the whole princely party stood there, and great and small shouted when the upright Marcus appeared, holding Sidonia firmly by the back, while she writhed and twisted, and kicked him with her heels till the sweat poured down his face. But when old Ulrich beheld her, he exclaimed, "Seven thousand devils!--do my eyes deceive me, or is this Sidonia again?" Her Grace, too, turned pale, and all were horrified at seeing the evil one, for they knew her wickedness. Then Marcus must relate the whole story, and how he came to bring to nought the counsel of the devil. And when Duke Johann heard the whole extent of the danger from which he had been saved, he fell upon the neck of the loyal Marcus, and, pressing him to his heart, exclaimed, "Well-beloved Marcus, and dear friend, thou hast saved my brother of Wolgast in the Stettin forest, so hast thou saved me this night, therefore accept knighthood from my hands; and I make thee governor of my fortress of Saatzig." To which the other answered, "He thanked his Grace heartily for the honours; but he had already promised to remain in the service of his princely brother of Wolgast; and for that object had made purchase of the lands of Crienke." But his Highness would hear of no refusal. Only let him look at Saatzig; it was the finest fortress in the land. What would he do in a miserable fishing village? The castle was almost grander than his own ducal house at Stettin; and the knights' hall, with its stone pillars and carved capitals, was the most stately work of architecture in the kingdom. Where would he find such a dwelling in his village nest? Old Kleist, the governor, had just died, and to whom could he give the castle sooner than to his right worthy and loyal Marcus? When old Dewitz heard this (he was a little, dry old man, with long grey hair), he pressed forward to his son-in-law, and bade him by no means refuse a Prince's offer; besides, Saatzig was but two miles off, and they could see each other every Sunday. Also, if they had a hunt, a standard erected on the tower of one castle could be seen plainly from the tower of the other, and so they could lead a right pleasant, neighbourly life, almost as if they all lived together. Still Marcus will not consent. Upon which his mother-in-law can no longer suppress her feelings, and comes forward to entreat him. (She was a good, pious matron, and as fat as her husband was thin.) So she stroked his cheeks--"And where in the land, as far as Usdom, could he find such fine muranes and maranes [Footnote: The great marana weighs from ten to twelve pounds, and is a species of salmon-trout. The murana is of the same race, but not larger than the herring. It must not be confounded with the _murana_ of which the Romans were so fond, which was a species of eel.]--this fish he loved so much?--and where was such fine flax to be had, for his young wife to spin?--no flax in the land equalled that of Saatzig!--since ever she was a little girl, people talked of the fine Saatzig flax. Let her dear daughter Clara come over, and see could she prevail aught with her stern husband. Why, they could send pudding hot to each other, the castles were so near." And now the mild young bride approached her husband, and taking his hand gently, looked up into his eyes with soft, beseeching glances, but spake no word; so that the princely widow of Wolgast was moved, and said, "Good Marcus, if you only fear to offend my son of Wolgast by taking service at Saatzig, be composed on that head, for I myself will make your peace. Great, indeed, would be my joy to have you and your young spouse settled at Crienke, which, you know, is but half a mile from Pudgla, my dower-castle, where I mean to reside; yet these beseeching glances of my little Clara fill my heart with compassion, for do I not read in her clear eyes that she would love to stay near her dear parents, as indeed is natural? Therefore, in God's name accept the offer of your Prince. I myself command you." Hereupon Marcus inclined himself gracefully to the Duchess and Duke Johann, and pressed his little wife to his heart. "But what need, gracious Prince, of a governor at Saatzig, when all the courts are closed and no justice can be done? I shall eat my bread in idleness, like a worn-out hound. But, marry, if your Grace consents to open the courts, I will accept your offer with thanks, and do my duty as governor with all justice and fidelity." Then his Grace answered, "What! good Marcus, dost thou begin again on that old theme which roused my wrath so lately, and made me fall into that peril? But I bethink me of thy bravery, and will say no bitter word; only, thou mayest hold thy peace, for I have sworn by my princely honour, and from that there is no retreating. However, thou hast leave to hold jurisdiction in thy own government, and execute justice according to thy own upright judgment." So Marcus was silent; but the Duchess and the other princes took up the subject, and assailed his Highness with earnest petitions--"Had he not himself felt and seen the danger of permitting these freebooters to get such a head in the land? Had not the finger of God warned him this very night, in hopes of turning him back to the right path? Let him reflect, for the peace of his land was at stake." But all in vain. Even though old Ulrich tumbled into the argument with his seven thousand devils, yet could they obtain no other answer from his Highness but--"If the states give me gold, I shall open the courts; if they give no gold, the courts shall remain closed for ever. Were he to be brought before the Emperor, or Pontius Pilate himself, it was all alike; they might tear him in pieces, but not one nail's breadth of his princely word would he retreat from, or break it like a woman, for their prayers." Then he rose, and calling his fool Clas to him, bid him run to the old priest, and tell him he would sleep at his quarters that night, for he must have peace; but the merry Clas, as he was running out, got behind his Highness, and stuck his fool's cap upon the head of his Grace, crying out, "Here, keep my cap for me." However, his Highness did not relish the joke, for every one laughed; and he ran after the fool, trying to catch him, and threatening to have his head cut off; but Clas got behind the others, and clapping his hands, cried out, "You can't, for the courts are closed. Huzza! the courts are closed!" Whereupon he runs out at the door, and my gracious lord after him, with the fool's cap upon his head. Nor did he return again to the hall, but went to sleep at the priest's quarters, as he had said; and next morning, by the first dawn of day, set off on his journey homeward. All this while no one had troubled himself about Sidonia. My gracious lady wept, the young lords laughed, old Ulrich swore, whilst the good Marcus murmured softly to his young wife, "Be happy, Clara; for thy sake I shall consent to go to Saatzig. I have decided." This filled her with such joy that she danced, and smiled, and flung herself into her mother's arms; nothing was wanting now to her happiness! Just then her eyes rested upon Sidonia, who was leaning against the wall, as pale as a corpse. Clara grew quite calm in a moment, and asked, compassionately, "What aileth thee, poor Sidonia?" "_I am hungry!_" was the answer. At this the gentle bride was so shocked, that the tears filled her eyes, and she exclaimed, "Wait, thou shalt partake of my wedding-feast;" and away went she. The attention of the others was, by this time, also directed to Sidonia. And old Ulrich said, "Compose yourself, gracious lady; I trust your son, the Prince, will not be so hard and stern as he promises; now that the water has touched his own neck, methinks he will soon come to reason. But what shall we do now with Sidonia?" Upon which my Lady of Wolgast turned to her, and asked if she were yet wedded to her gallows-bird? "Not yet," was the answer; "but she would soon be." Then my gracious lady spat out at her; and, addressing Ulrich, asked what he would advise. So the stout old knight said, "If the matter were left to him, he would just send for the executioner, and have her ears and nose slit, as a warning and example, for no good could ever come of her now, and then pack her off next day to her farm at Zachow; for if they let her loose, she would run to her paramour again, and come at last to gallows and wheel; but if they just slit her nose, then he would hold her in abhorrence, as well as all other men-folk." During this, Clara had entered, and set fish, and wild boar, and meat, and bread, before the girl; and as she heard Ulrich's last words, she bent down and whispered, "Fear nothing, Sidonia, I hope to be able to protect thee, as I did once before; only eat, Sidonia! Ah! hadst thou followed my advice! I always meant well by thee; and even now, if I thought thou wouldst repent truly, poor Sidonia, I would take thee with me to the castle of Saatzig, and never let thee want for aught through life." When Sidonia heard this, she wept, and promised amendment. Only let Clara try her, for she could never go to Zachow and play the peasant-girl. Upon which Clara turned to her Highness, and prayed her Grace to give Sidonia up to her. See how she was weeping; misfortune truly had softened her, and she would soon be brought back to God. Only let her take her to Saatzig, and treat her as a sister. At this, however, old Ulrich shook his head--"Clara, Clara," he exclaimed, "knowest thou not that the Moor cannot change his skin, nor the leopard his spots? I cannot, then, let the serpent go. Think on our mother, girl; it is a bad work playing with serpents." Her Grace, too, became thoughtful, and said at last-- "Could we not send her to the convent at Marienfliess, or somewhere else?" "What the devil would she do in a convent?" exclaimed the old knight. "To infect the young maidens with her vices, or plague them with her pride? Now, there was nothing else for her but to be packed off to Zachow." Now Clara looked up once again at her husband with her soft, tearful eyes, for he had said no word all this time, but remained quite mute; and he drew her to him, and said-- "I understand thy wish, dear Clara, but the old knight is right. It is a dangerous business, dear Clara! Let Sidonia go." At this Sidonia crawled forth like a serpent from her corner, and howled-- "Clara had pity on her, but he would turn her out to starve--he, who bore her own name, and was of her own blood." Alas! the good knight was ashamed to refuse any longer, and finally promised the evil one that she should go with them to Saatzig. So her Grace at last consented, but old Ulrich shook his grey head ten times more. "He had lived many years in the world, but never had it come to his knowledge that a godless man was tamed by love. Fear was the only teacher for them. All their love would be thrown away on this harlot; for even if the stout Marcus kept her tight with bit and rein, and tried to bring her back by fear, yet the moment his back was turned, Clara would spoil all again by love and kindness." However, nobody minded the good knight, though it all came to pass just as he had prophesied. CHAPTER XV. _How Sidonia demeans herself at the castle of Saatzig, and how Clara forgets the injunctions of her beloved husband, when he leaves her to attend the Diet at Wollin, on the subject of the courts--Item, how the Serene Prince Duke Johann Frederick beheads his court fool with a sausage._ Summa.--Sidonia went to the castle of Saatzig, and her worthy cousin Marcus gave her a little chamber to herself, in the third story, close to the tower. It was the same room in which she afterwards sat as a witch, for some days ere she was taken to Oderburg. There was a right cheerful view from the windows down upon the lake, which was close to the castle, and over the little town of Jacobshagen, as far even as the meadows beyond. Here, too, was left a Bible for her, and the _Opera Lutheri_ in addition, with plenty of materials for spinning and embroidery, for she had refused to weave. _Item_, a serving-wench was appointed to attend on her, and she had permission to walk where she pleased within the castle walls; but if ever seen beyond the domain, the keepers had orders to bring her back by force, if she would not return willingly. In fine, the careful knight took every precaution possible to render her presence as little baneful as could be, for, truth to say, he had no faith whatever in her tears and seeming repentance. First, he strictly forbade all his secretaries to interchange a word with her, or even look at her. They need not know his reason, but any one who transgressed his slightest command in this particular, should be chased away instantly from the castle. Secondly, he prayed his dear wife to let Sidonia eat her meals alone, in her own little room, and never to see her but in the presence of a third person. Also, never to accept the slightest gift from her hand--fruit, flower, or any kind of food whatsoever. These injunctions were the more necessary, as the young bride had already given hopes of an heir. Sidonia's rage and jealousy at this prospect of complete happiness for Clara may be divined from her words to her maid, Lene Penkun, a short time after she reached the castle-- "Ha! they are talking of the baptism already, forsooth; but it might have been otherwise if I had come across her a little sooner!" This same maid also she sent to Daber for the spirit Chim, which had been left behind at the last resting-place of the robbers, never telling her it was a spirit, however, only a tame cat, that was a great pet of hers. "It must be half dead with hunger now, for it was four days since she had left it in the hollow of an old oak in the forest, the poor creature! So let the maid take a flask of sweet milk and a little saucer to feed it. She could not miss her way, for, when she stepped out of the high-road at Daber into the forest, there was a thorn-bush to her left hand, and just beyond it a large oak where the ravens had their nests; in a hollow of this oak, to the north side, lay her dear little cat. But she must not tell any one about the matter, or they would laugh at her for sending her maid two miles and more to look for a cat. Men had no compassion or tenderheartedness nowadays to each other, much less to a poor dumb animal. No; just let her say that she went to fetch a robe which her mistress had left in the oak. Here was an old gown; take this with her, and it would do to wrap up the poor little pussy in it after she had fed it and warmed it, so that no one might see it, for what a mock would all these pitiless men make of her, if they heard the object of her message; but she was not cruel like them." Now, after some time, it happened that the states of the duchy assembled at Wollin, to come to some arrangement with his Highness respecting the opening of the courts of justice; and Marcus Bork, along with all the other nobles, was summoned to attend the Diet. So, with great grief, he had to leave his dear wife, but promised, if possible, to return before she was taken with her illness. Then he bid her be of good courage, and, above all things, to guard herself, against Sidonia, and mind strictly all his injunctions concerning her. Alas! she too soon flung them all to the winds! For, behold, scarcely had the good knight arrived at Wollin, when Clara was delivered of a little son, at which great joy filled the whole castle. And one messenger was despatched to Marcus, and another to old Dewitz and his wife, with the tidings; but woe, alas! the good old mother was going to stand sponsor for a nobleman's child in the neighbourhood, and could not hasten then to save her dear daughter from a terrible and cruel death. She cooked some broth, however, for the young mother, and pouring it into a silver flask, bid the messenger ride back with all speed to Saatzig, that it might not be too cold. She herself would be over in the morning early with her husband, and let her dear little daughter keep herself warm and quiet. Meanwhile Sidonia had heard of the birth, and sent her maid to wish the young mother joy, and ask her permission just to give one little kiss to her new cousin, for they told her he was a beautiful infant. Alas, alas! that Clara's joy should make her forget the judicious cautions of her husband! Permission was given to the murderess, and down she comes directly to offer her congratulations; even affecting to weep for joy as she kissed the infant, and praying to be allowed to act as nurse until her mother came from Daber. "Why, she had no one about her but common serving-women! How could she leave her dearest friend to the care of these old hags, when she was in the castle, who owed everything to her dear Clara?" And so she went on till poor Clara, even if she did not quite believe her, felt ashamed to doubt so much apparent affection and tenderness. _Summa_.--She permitted her to remain, and we shall soon see what murderous deeds Sidonia was planning against the poor young mother. But first I must relate what happened at the Diet of Wollin, to which Marcus Bork had been summoned. His Highness Duke Johann had become somewhat more gracious to the states since they had come to the Diet at their own cost, which was out of the usage; and further, because, as old Ulrich prophesied, he himself had felt the inconveniences resulting from the present lawless state of the country. Still he was ill-tempered enough, particularly as he had a fever on him; and when the states promised at last that they would let him have the money, he said, "So far good; but, till he saw the gold, the courts should not be opened. Not that he misdoubted them, but then he knew that they were sometimes as tedious in handing out money as a peasant in paying his rent. The courts, therefore, should not be opened until he had the gold in his pot, so it would be to their own profit to use as much diligence as possible." At this same Diet his Grace related how he first met Clas, his fool, which story I shall set down here for the reader's pastime. This same fool had been nothing but a poor goose-herd; and one day as he was on the road to Friedrichswald with his flock, my gracious lord rode up, and growing impatient at the geese running hither and thither in his path, bid the boy collect them together, or he would strike them all dead. Upon which the knave took up goose after goose by the throat, and stuck them by their long necks into his girdle, till a circle of geese hung entirely round his body, all dangling by the head from his waist. This merry device pleased my lord so much, that he made the lad court-jester from that day, and many a droll trick he had played from that to this, particularly when his Highness was gloomy, so as to make him laugh again. Once, for instance, when the Duke was sore pressed for money, by reason of the opposition of the states, he became very sad, and all the doctors were consulted, but could do nothing. For unless his Grace could be brought to laugh (they said to the Lady Erdmuth), it was all over with him. Then my gracious lady had the fool whipped for a stupid jester, who could not drive his trade; for if he did not make the Duke laugh, why should he stay at all in the castle? What did my fool? He collected all the princely soldatesca, and got leave from their Graces to review them; and surely never were seen such strange evolutions as he put them through, for they must do everything he bid them. And when his Highness came forth to look, he laughed so loud as never had fool made him laugh before; and calling the Duchess, bid him repeat his _experimentum_ many times for her. In fine, the fool got the good town of Butterdorf for his fee, which changed its name in honour of him, and is called Hinzendorf to this day (for his name was Hinze). But Clas Hinze had not been able to cure my Lord Duke of his fever, which attacked him at the Diet at Wollin, nor all the doctors from Stettin, nor even Doctor Pomius, who had been sent from Wolgast by the old Duchess, to attend her dear son; and as the doctor (as I have said) was a formal, priggish little man, he and the fool were always bickering and snarling. Now, one day at Wollin, the weather being beautiful, his Grace, with several of the chief prelates, and many of the nobility, went forth to walk by the river's side, and the fool ran along with them; _item_, Doctor Pomius, who, if he could not run, at least tried to walk majestically; and he munched a piece of sugar all the time, for he never could keep his mouth still a moment. Seeing his Grace now about to cross the bridge, the doctor started forward with as much haste as was consistent with his dignity, and seizing his Highness by the tail of the coat, drew him back, declaring, "That he must not pass the water; all water would give strength to the fever-devil." But his Highness, who was talking Latin to the Deacon of Colberg, turned on the doctor with--"Apage te asine!" and strode forward, whilst one of the nobles gave a free translation aloud for the benefit of the others, saying, "And that means: Begone, thou ass!" When the fool heard this, he clapped the little man on the back, shouting, "Well done, ass! and there is thy fee for curing our gracious Prince of his fever." This so nettled the doctor that he spat out the lump of sugar for rage, and tried to seize the fool; but the crowd laughed still louder when Clas jumped on the back of an old woman, giving her the spur with his yellow boots in the side, and shaking his head with the cap and bells at the little doctor in mockery, who could not get near him for the crowd. So the woman screamed and roared, and the people laughed, till at last the Duke stopped in the middle of the bridge to see what was the matter. When the fool observed this, he sprang off the old woman's back, and calling out to the doctor--"See how I cure our gracious lord's fever," ran upon the bridge like wind, and, seizing the Duke with all his force, jumped with him into the water. Now the people screamed from horror, as much as before from mirth, and thirty or forty burghers, along with Marcus Bork, plunged in to rescue his Highness, whilst others tried to seize the fool, threatening to tear him in pieces. This was a joyful hearing to Doctor Pomius. He drew forth his knife--"Would they not finish the knave at once? Here was a knife just ready." But the fool, who was strong and supple, swung himself up to the bridge, and crouched in between the arches, catching hold of the beams, so that no one dared to touch him there, and his Highness was soon carried to land. He was in a flaming rage as he shook off the water. "Where is that accursed fool? He had only threatened to cut off his head at Daber, but now it should be done in earnest." So the fool shouted from under the bridge--"Ho! ho! the courts are all closed! the courts are all closed!" At which the crowd laughed so heartily, that my Lord Duke grew still more angry, and commanded them to bring the fool to him dead or alive. Hearing this, the fool crept forward of himself, and whimpered in his Low Dutch, "My good Lord Duke, praise be to God that we've made the doctor fly. I'll give him a little piece of drink-money for his journey, and then I'll be your doctor myself. For if the fright has not cured you, marry, let the deacon be your fool, and I will be your deacon as long as I live." However, my gracious lord was in no humour for fun, but bid them carry off the fool to prison, and lock him up there; for though, indeed, the fever had really quite gone, as his Highness perceived to his joy, yet he was resolved to give the fool a right good fright in return. Therefore, on the third day from that, he commanded him to be brought out and beheaded on the scaffold at Wollin. He wore a white shroud, bordered with black gauze, over his motley jacket, and a priest and melancholy music accompanied him all the way; but Master Hansen had directions that, when the fool was seated in the chair with his eyes bound, he should strike the said fool on the neck with a sausage in place of the sword. However, no one suspected this, and a great crowd followed the poor fool up to the scaffold; even Doctor Pomius was there, and kept close up to the condemned. As the fool passed the ducal house, there was my lord seated at a window looking out, and the fool looked up, saying, "My gracious master, is this a fool's jest you are playing me, or is it earnest?" To which the Duke answered, "You see it is earnest." Then answered the fool, "Well, if I must, I must; yet I crave one boon!" When the promise was granted, the knave, who could not give up his jesting even on the death-road, said, "Then make Doctor Pomius herewith to be fool in my place, for look how he is learning all my tricks from me--sticking himself close up to my side." Hereat a great shout of laughter pealed from the crowd, and the Duke motioned with the hand to proceed to the scaffold. Still the poor fool kept looking round every moment, thinking his Grace would send a message after them to stop the execution, but no one appeared. Then his teeth chattered, and he trembled like an aspen leaf; for Master Hansen seized hold of him now, and put him down upon the chair, and bound his eyes. Still he asked, with his eyes bound, "Master, is any one coming?" "No!" replied the executioner; and throwing back his red cloak, drew forth a large sausage in place of a sword, to the great amusement of the people. With this he strikes my fool on the neck, who thereupon tumbles down from the stool, as stone dead from the mere fright as if his head and body had parted company--yea, more dead, for never a finger or a muscle did the poor fool move more. This sad ending moved his Grace even to tears; and he fell into a yet greater melancholy than before, crying, "Woe! alas! He gave me my life through fright, and through fright I have taken away his poor life! Ah, never shall I meet with so good and merry a fool again!" Then he gave command to all the physicians to try and restore him, and he himself stood by while they bled him and felt his pulse, but all was in vain; even Doctor Pomius tried his skill, but nothing would help, so that my lord cried out angrily-- "Marry, the fool was right. The fools should be doctors, for the doctors are all fools. Away with ye all, and your gibberish, to the devil!" After this he had the said fool placed in a handsome black coffin, and conveyed to his own town of Hinzendorf, there to be buried; and over his grave my lord erected a stately monument, on which was represented the poor fool, as large as life, with his cap and bells, and staff in his hand; and round his waist was a girdle, from which many geese dangled, all cut like life, while at his side lay his shepherd's bag, and at his feet a beer-can. The figure is five feet two inches long, and bears a Latin inscription above it, which I forget; but the initials G. H. are carved upon each cheek. [Footnote: His original name was Gürgen Hinze, not Clas. The Latin inscription is nearly effaced, but the beginning is still visible, and runs thus: "Caput ecce manus gestus que;" from which Oelrichs concludes that the whole was written in hexameters. (See his estimable work, "Memoirs of the Pomeranian Dukes," p. 41.)] Shortly after the death of the fool a messenger arrived from Saatzig to Marcus Bork, bringing him the joyful tidings that the Lord God had granted him the blessing of a little son. So he is away to my Lord Duke, to solicit permission to leave the Diet and return to his castle. This the Duke readily granted, seeing that he himself was going away to attend the funeral of the poor fool at Hinzendorf. Then he wished Marcus joy with all his heart, which so emboldened the knight that he ventured to make one more effort about the opening of the courts, praying his Grace to put faith in the word of his faithful states, and open the courts and the treasury without further delay. But his Grace is wroth: "What should he be troubled for? The states could give the money when they chose, and then all would be right. Let the nobles do their duty. He never saw a penny come out of their pockets for their Prince." "But his Highness knew the poor peasants were all beggared; and where could the nobles get the money?" "Let them go to their saving-pots, then, where the money was turning green from age; better for them if they had less avarice. Why did not he himself bring him some gold, in place of dressing up his wife in silks and jewels, finer than the Princess Erdmuth herself, his own princely spouse? Then, indeed, the courts might be soon opened," &c. So the sorrowing knight took his leave, and each went his different way. CHAPTER XVI. _How Sidonia makes poor Clara appear quite dead, and of the great mourning at Saatzig over her burial, while Sidonia dances on her coffin and sings the 109th psalm--Item, of the sermon and the anathema pronounced upon a wicked sinner from the altar of the church._ I must first state that this horrible wickedness of Sidonia, which no eye had seen nor ear heard, neither had it entered into the heart of man to conceive (for only in hell could such have been imagined), never would have come to light but that she herself made confession thereof to Dr. Cramero, thy well-beloved godfather, in her last trial. And he, to show how far Satan can lead a poor human creature who has once fallen from God, related the same to my worthy father-in-law, Master David Reutzio, some time superintendent at the criminal court, from whose own lips I received the story. And this was her confession:--That when the messenger returned from Daber with the broth, he had ridden so fast that it was still, in truth, quite hot, but she (the horrible Sidonia), who was standing at the bed of the young mother, along with the other women, pretended that it was too cold for a woman in her state, and must just get one little heating on the fire. The poor Clara, indeed, showed unwillingness to permit this, but she ran down with it, and secretly, without being seen by any of the other women, poured in a philtrum that had been given her by the gipsy hag, and then went back again for a moment. This philtrum was the one which produced all the appearance of death. It had no taste, except, perhaps, that it was a little saltish. Therefore Clara perceived nothing wrong, only when she tasted it, said, "My heart's dearest mother, in her joy, has put a little too much salt into her broth; still, what a heart's dearest mother sends, must always taste good!" However, in one hour after that, Clara lay as stiff and cold as a corpse, only her breath came a little; but even this ceased in a short time, and then a great cry and lamentation resounded through the whole castle. No one suspected Sidonia, for many said that young women died so often; but even the old mother, who arrived a few hours after, and hearing the cries from the castle while she was yet far off, began to weep likewise; for her mother's heart revealed the cause to her ere she had yet descended from the carriage. But it was a sadder sight next evening, when the husband arrived at the castle from Wollin. He could not take his eyes from the corpse. One while he kissed the infant, then fixed his eyes again upon his dead wife, and sighed and groaned as if he lay upon the rack. He alone suspected Sidonia, but when she cried more than they all, and wrung her hands, exclaiming, who would have pity on her now, for her best friend lay there dead! and flung herself upon the seeming corpse, kissing it and bedewing it with her tears, and praying to have leave to watch all night beside it, for how could she sleep in her sore grief and sorrow? the knight was ashamed of his suspicions, and even tried to comfort her himself. Then came the physicians out of Stargard and other places, who had been summoned in all haste, and they gabbled away, saying, "It could not have been the broth, but puerperal fever." This at least was Dr. Hamster's opinion, who knew all along it would be a bad case. Indeed, the last time he was at the castle visiting the mower's wife, he was frightened at the look of the poor lady. Still, if they had only sent for him in time, this great evil could not have happened, for his _pulvis antispasmodicus_ was never known to fail; and so he went on chattering, by which one can see that doctors have always been the same from that time even till now. _Summa_.--On the third day the poor Clara was laid in her coffin, and carried to her grave, with such weeping and lamentation of the mourners and bearers as never had been heard till then. And all the nobles of the vicinage, with the knights and gentlemen, came to attend her funeral at Saatzig Cathedral, for she was to be buried in this new church just finished by his Grace Duke Johann, and but one corpse had been laid in the vaults before her. [Footnote: The beautifully painted escutcheon of Duke Johann and his wife, Erdmuth of Brandenburg, is still to be seen on the chancel windows of this stately staircase.] But what does the devil's sorceress do now? She knew that the poor Clara would awake the next day (which was Sunday) about noon, and if any should hear her cries, her plans would be detected. Therefore, about ten of the clock she ran to Marcus, with her hair all flowing down her shoulders, saying, that he must let her away that very day to Zachow, for what would the world say if she, a young unmarried thing, should remain here all alone with him in his castle? No; sooner would she swallow the bitter cup her father had left her than peril her name. But first, would he allow her to go and pray alone in the church? Surely he would not deny her this. Thereupon the simple knight gave her instant leave--"Let her go and pray, in God's name. He himself would soon be there to hear the Reverend Dr. Wudargensis preach the funeral sermon over his heart's dear wife. And after service he would desire a carriage to be in readiness to convey her to Zachow." Then he called to the warder from the window, bidding him let Sidonia pass. So she went forth in deep mourning garments, glided through the castle gardens, and concealing herself by the trees, slipped into the church without any one having perceived her; for the sexton had left the door open to admit fresh air, on account of the corpse. Then she stepped over to the little grated door near the altar, which led down into the vault, and softly lifting it, stepped down, drawing the door down again close over her head. Clara's coffin was lying beneath, and first she laid her ear on it and listened, but all was quite still within. Then removing the pall, she sat herself down upon the lid. Time passed, and still no sound. The sexton began to ring the bell, and the people were assembling in the church above. Soon the hymn commenced, "Now in peace the loved one sleepeth," and ere the first verse had ended, a knocking was heard in the coffin, then a cry--"Where am I? What brought me here? Let me out, for God's sake let me out! I am not dead. Where is my child? Where is my good Marcus? Ah! there is some one near me. Who is it? Let me out! let me out!" Then (oh! horror of horrors!) the devil's harlot on her coffin answered, "It is I, Sidonia! this pays thee for acting the spy at Wolgast. Lie there and writhe till thou art stifled in thy blood!" Now the voice came again from the coffin, praying and beseeching, so that many times it went through her stony heart like a sword. And just then the first verse of the hymn ended, and the voice of the priest was heard asking the lord governor whether they should go and sing the remainder over the vault of his dear spouse, for it was indeed sung in her honour, seeing she had been ever a mother to the orphan, and a holy, pious, and Christian wife; or, since the people all knew her worth, and mourned for her with bitter mourning, should they sing it here in the nave, that the whole congregation might join in chorus? [Footnote: These interruptions were by no means unusual at that period.] To this the governor, in a loud yet mournful voice, gave answer-- "Alas, good friends, do what you will in this sad case; I am content." But Sidonia, this devil's witch, was in a horrible fright, lest the priest would come up to the altar to sing the hymn, and so hear the knocking within the coffin. However, the devil protects his own, for, at that instant, many voices called out-- "Let the hymn be sung here, that we may all join to the honour of the blessed soul of the good lady." And mournfully the second verse was heard pealing through the church, from the lips of the whole congregation, so that poor Clara's groans were quite smothered. For, when the voice of her dear husband reached her ear, she had knocked and cried out with all her strength-- "Marcus! Marcus! Alas, dear Lord, will you not come to me!" Then again--"Sidonia, by the Jesu cross, I pray thee have pity on me. Save me--save me--I am stifling. Oh, run for some one, if thou canst not lift the lid thyself!" But the devil made answer to the poor living corpse-- "Dost thou take me for a silly fool like thyself, that I should now undo all I have done?" And as the voice went on from the coffin, but feebler and fainter-- "Think on my husband--on my child, Sidonia!" She answered-- "Didst thou think of that when, but for thee, I might have been a Duchess of Pomerania, and the proud mother of a prince, in place of being as I now am." Then all became still within the coffin, and Sidonia sprang upon it and danced, chanting the 109th psalm; [Footnote: Superstition has found many sinful usages for this psalm. The Jews, for example, took a new vessel, poured a mixture of mustard and water therein, and after repeating this psalm over it for three consecutive days, poured it out before the door of their enemy, as a certain means to ensure his destruction. In the middle ages monks and nuns were frequently obliged to repeat it in superstitious ceremonies, at the command of some powerful revengeful man. And that its efficacy was Considered as something miraculously powerful, even by the evangelical Church, is proved by this example of Sidonia, who made frequent use of this terrible psalm in her sorceries, as any one may see by referring to the records of the trial in Dähnert. And other interesting examples are found in the treatise of Job. Andreas Schmidii, _Abusus Psalmi 109 imprecatorii_; vulgo, _The Death Prayer_, Helmstadt, 1708.] and as she came to the words, "Let none show mercy to him; let none have pity on his orphans; let his posterity be cut off and his name be blotted out," there was a loud knocking again within the coffin, and a faint, stifled cry--"I am dying!" then followed a gurgling sound, and all became still. At that moment the congregation above raised the last verse of the hymn:-- "In the grave, with bitter weeping, Loving hands have laid her down; There she resteth, calmly sleeping, Till an angel lifts the stone." But the sermon which now followed she remembered her life long. It was on the tears, the soft tears of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. And as her spirit became oppressed by the silence in the vault, now that all was still within the coffin, she lifted the lid after the exordium, to see if Clara were indeed quite dead. It was an easy matter to remove the cover, for the screws were not fastened; but--O God! what has she beheld? A sight that will never more leave her brain! The poor corpse lay all torn and disfigured from the writhings in the coffin, and a blood-vessel must have burst at last to relieve her from her agony, for the blood lay yet warm on the hands as she lifted the cover. But more horrible than all were the fixed glassy eyes of the corpse, staring immovably upon her, from which clear tears were yet flowing, and blending with the blood upon the cheek; and, as if the priest above had known what was passing beneath, he exclaimed-- "Oh, let us moisten our couch with tears; let tears be our meat day and night. They are noble tears that do not fall to earth, but ascend up to God's throne. Yea, the Lord gathers them in His vials, like costly wine. They are noble tears, for if they fill the eyes of God's chosen in this life, yet, in that other world, the Lord Jesus will wipe away tears from off all faces, as the dew is dried by the morning sun. Oh, wondrous beauty of those eyes which are dried by the Lord Jesus! Oh, blessed eyes! Oh, sun-clear eyes! Oh, joyful and ever-smiling eyes!" She heard no more, but felt the eyes of the corpse were upon her, and fell down like one dead beside the coffin; and Clara's eyes and the sermon never left her brain from that day, and often have they risen before her in dreams. But the Holy Spirit had yet a greater torment in store for her, if that were possible. For, after the sermon, a consistorium was held in the church upon a grievous sinner named Trina Wolken, who, it appeared, had many times done penance for her unchaste life, but had in no wise amended. And she heard the priest asking, "Who accuseth this woman?" To which, after a short silence, a deep, small voice responded-- "I accuse her; for I detected her in sin, and though I besought her with Christian words to turn from her evil ways, and that I would save her from public shame if she would so turn, yet she gave herself up wholly to the devil, and out of revenge bewitched my best sheep, so that it died the very day after it had brought forth a lamb. Alas! what will become of the poor lamb? And it was such a beautiful little lamb!" When Marcus Bork heard this, he began to sob aloud; and each word seemed to run like a sharp dagger through Sidonia's heart, so that she bitterly repented her evil deeds. And all the congregation broke out into loud weeping, and even the priest continued, in a broken voice, to ask the sinner what she had to say to this terrible accusation. Upon which a woman's voice was heard swearing that all was a malignant lie, for her accuser was a shameless liar and open sinner, who wished to ruin her because she had refused his son. Then the priest commanded the witnesses to be called, not only to prove the unchastity, but also the witchcraft. And after this, she was asked if she could make good the loss of the sheep? No; she had no money. And the people testified also that the harlot had nothing but her shame. Thereupon the priest rose up, and said-- "That she had long been notorious in the Christian communion for her wicked life, and that all her penance and repentance having proved but falsehood and deceit, he was commissioned by the honourable consistorium to pronounce upon her the solemn curse and sentence of excommunication. For she had this day been convicted of strange and terrible crimes, on the testimony of competent witnesses. Therefore he called upon the whole Christian congregation to stand up and listen to the words of the anathema, by which he gave over Trina Wolken to the devil, in the name of the Almighty God." And as he spoke the curse, it fell word by word upon the head of Sidonia, as if he were indeed pronouncing it over herself-- "Dear Christian Friends,--Because Trina Wolken hath broken her baptismal vows, and given herself over to the devil, to work all uncleanness with greediness; and though divers times admonished to repentance by the Church, yet hath stiffened her neck in corruption, and hardened her heart in unrighteousness, therefore we herewith place the said Trina Wolken under the ban of the excommunication. Henceforth she is a thing accursed--cast off from the communion of the Church, and participation in the holy sacraments. Henceforth she is given up to Satan for this life and the next, unless the blessed Saviour reach forth His hand to her as He did to the sinking Peter, for all things are possible with God. And this we do by the power of the keys granted by Christ to His Church, to bind and loose on earth as in heaven, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." And now Sidonia heard distinctly the screams of the wretched sinner, as she was hunted out of the church, and all the congregation followed soon after, and then all was still above. Now, indeed, terror took such hold of her that she trembled like an aspen leaf, and the lid fell many times from her hand with great clatter on the ground, as she tried to replace it on the coffin. For she had closed her eyes, for fear of meeting the ghastly stare of the corpse again. At last she got it up, and the corpse was covered; but she would not stay to replace the screws, only hastened out of the vault, closing the little grated door after her, reached the church door, which had no lock, but only a latch, and plunged into the castle gardens to hide herself amongst the trees. Here she remained crouched for some hours, trying to recover her self-possession; and when she found that she could weep as well as ever when it pleased her, she set off for the castle, and met her cousin Marcus with loud weeping and lamentations, entreating him to let her go that instant to Zachow. Eat and drink could she not from grief, though she had eaten nothing the whole morning. So the mournful knight, who had himself risen from the table without eating, to hasten to his little motherless lamb, asked her where she had passed the morning, for he had not seen her in the church? To which she answered, that she had sunk down almost dead on the altar-steps; and, as he seemed to doubt her, she repeated part of the sermon, and spoke of the curse pronounced upon the girl, and told how she had remained behind in the church, to weep and pray alone. Upon which he exclaimed joyfully-- "Now, I thank God that my blessed spouse counselled me to take thee home with us. Ah! I see that thou hast indeed repented of thy sins. Go thy ways, then; and, with God's help, thou shalt never want a true and faithful friend while I live." He bid her also take all his blessed wife's wardrobe with her, amongst which was a brocaded damask with citron flowers, which she had only got a year before; _item_, her shoes and kerchiefs: _summa_, all that she had worn, he wished never to see them again. And so she went away in haste from the castle, after having given a farewell kiss to the little motherless lamb. For though the evil spirit Chim, which she carried under her mantle, whispered to her to give the little bastard a squeeze that would make him follow his mother, or to let him do so, she would not consent, but pinched him for his advice till he squalled, though Marcus certainly could not have heard him, for he was attending Sidonia to the coach; but then the good knight was so absorbed in grief that he had neither ears nor eyes for anything. CHAPTER XVII. _How Sidonia is chased by the wolves to Rehewinkel, and finds Johann Appelmann again in the inn, with whom she goes away a second time by night._ When Sidonia left Saatzig, the day was far advanced, so that the good knight recommended her to stop at Daber that night with his blessed wife's mourning parents, and, for this purpose, sent a letter by her to them. Also he gave a fine one-year-old foal in charge to the coachman, who tied it to the side of the carriage; and Marcus bid him deliver it up safely to the pastor of Rehewinkel, his good friend, for he had only been keeping the young thing at grass for him, and the pastor now wished it back--they must therefore go by Rehewinkel. So they drove away; but many strange things happened by reason of this same foal; for it was so restive and impatient at being tied, that many times they had to stop and quiet it, lest the poor beast might get hurt by the wheel. This so delayed their journey, that evening came on before they were out of the forest; and as the sun went down, the wolves began to appear in every direction. Finally, a pack of ten or twelve pursued the carriage; and though the coach-man whipped his horses with might and main, still the wolves gained on them, and stared up in their faces, licking their jaws with their red tongues. Some even were daring enough to spring up behind the carriage, but finding nothing but trunks, had to tumble down again. This so terrified Sidonia that she screamed and shrieked, and, drawing forth a knife, cut the cords that bound the foal, which instantly galloped away, and the wolves after it. How the carl drove now, thinking to get help in time to save the poor foal! but not so. The poor beast, in its terror, galloped into the town of Rehewinkel; and as the paddock is closed, it springs into the churchyard, the wolves after it, and runs into the belfry-tower, the door of which is lying open--the wolves rush in too, and there they tear the poor animal to pieces, before the pastor could collect peasants enough to try and save it. Meanwhile Sidonia has reached the town likewise; and as there is a great uproar, some of the peasants crowding into the churchyard, others setting off full chase after the wolves, which had taken the road to Freienwald, Sidonia did not choose to move on (for she must have travelled that very road), but desired the coachman to drive up to the inn; and as she entered, lo! there sat my knave, with two companions, at a table, drinking. Up he jumps, and seizes Sidonia to kiss her, but she pushed him away. "Let him not attempt to come near her. She had done with such low fellows." So the knave feigned great sorrow--"Alas! had she quite forgotten him--and he treasured her memory so in his heart! Where had she come from? He saw a great many trunks and bags on the carriage. What had she in them?" _Illa_.--"Ah! he would, no doubt, like to get hold of them; but she would take care and inform the people what sort of robber carls they had now in the house. She came from Saatzig, and was going to Daber; for as old Dewitz had lost his daughter, he intended to adopt her in the place of one. Therefore let him not attempt to approach her, for she was now, more than ever, a castle and land dowered maiden, and from such a low burgher carl as he was, would cross and bless herself." But my knave knew her well; so he answered--"Woe is me, Sidonia! do not grieve me by such words; for know that I have given up my old free courses of which you talk; and my father is so pleased with my present mode of life, that he has promised to give me my heritage, and even this very night I am to receive it at Bruchhausen, and am on my way there, as you see. Truly I meant to purchase some land in Poland with the money, and then search throughout all places for you, that we might be wedded like pious Christians. Alas! I thought to have sold your poor cabins at Zachow, and brought you home to my castle in Poland; but for all my love you only give me this proud answer!" Now Sidonia scarcely believed the knave; so she called one of his comrades aside, and asked him was it true, and where they came from. Upon which he confirmed all that Johann had said--"The devil had dispersed the whole band, so that only two were left with the captain--himself and Konnemann; and they came from Nörenburg, where the master had been striking a bargain with Elias von Wedel, for a town in Poland. The town was called Lembrowo, and there was a stately castle there, as grand almost as the castle of old Dewitz at Daber. They were going this very night to Bruchhausen, to get gold from the old stiff-neck of Stargard, so that the bargain might be concluded next day." This was a pleasant hearing for Sidonia. She became more friendly, and said, "He could not blame her for doubting him, as he had deceived her so often; still it was wonderful how her heart clung to him through all. Where had he been so long? and what had happened since they parted?" Hereupon he answered, "That he could not speak while the people were all going to and fro in the inn; but if she came out with him (as the night was fine), they could walk down to the river-side, and he would tell her all." _Summa_.--She went with him, and they sat down upon the green grass to discourse, never knowing that the pastor of Rehewinkel was hid behind the next tree; for he had gone forth to lament over the loss of his poor foal, and sat there weeping bitterly. He had got it home to sell, that he might buy a warm coat for the winter, which now he cannot do; therefore the old man had gone forth mournfully into the clear night, thrown himself down, and wept. By this chance he heard the whole story from my knave, and related it afterwards to the old burgomaster in Stargard. It was as follows:-- Some time after his flight from Daber, a friend from Stettin told him that Dinnies von Kleist (the same who had spoiled their work in the Uckermund forest) had got a great sum of gold in his knapsack, and was off to his castle at Dame, [Footnote: A town near Polzin, in Lower Pomerania, and an ancient feudal hold of the Kleists.] while the rest were feasting at Daber. This sum he had won by a wager from the Princes of Saxony, Brandenburg, and Mecklenburg. For he had bet, at table, that he would carry five casks of Italian wine at once, and without help, up from the cellar to the dining-hall, in the castle of Old Stettin. Duke Johann refused the bet, knowing his man well, but the others took it up; upon which, after grace, the whole noble company stood up and accompanied him to the cellar. Here Dinnies took up a cask under each arm, another in each hand by the plugs, and a fifth between his teeth by the plug also; thus laden, he carried the five casks up every step from the cellar to the dining-hall. So the money was paid to him, as the lacqueys witnessed, and having put the same in his knapsack, he set off for his castle at Dame, to give it to his father. And the knave went on--"After I heard this news from my good friend, I resolved to set off for Dame and revenge myself on this strong ox, burn his castle, and take his gold. The band agreed; but woe, alas! there was one traitor amongst them. The fellow was called Kaff, and I might well have suspected him; for latterly I observed that when we were about any business, particularly church-robbing, he tried to be off, and asked to be left to keep the watch. Divers nights, too, as I passed him, there was the carl praying; and so I ought to have dismissed the coward knave at once, or he would have had half the band praying likewise before long. "In short, this arrant villain slips off at night from his post, just as we had all set ourselves down before the castle, waiting for the darkest hour of midnight to attack the foxes in their den, and betrays the whole business to Kleist himself, telling him the strength of the band, and how and when we were to attack him, with all other particulars. Whereupon a great lamentation was heard in the castle, and old Kleist, a little white-headed man, wrung his hands, and seemed ready to go mad with fear; for half the retainers were at the annual fair, others far away at the coal-mines, and finally, they could scarcely muster in all ten fighting men. Besides this, the castle fosse was filled with rubbish, though the old man had been bidding his sons, for the last year, to get it cleared, but they never minded him, the idle knaves. All this troubled stout Dinnies mightily; and as he walked up and down the hall, his eyes often rested on a painting which represented the devil cutting off the head of a gambler, and flying with it out of the window. "Again and again he looked at the picture, then called out for a hound, stuck him under his arm, and cut off his head, as if it had been only a dove; then he called for a calf from the stall, put it under his arm likewise, and cut off the head. Then he asked for the mask which represented the devil, and which he had got from Stettin to frighten his dissolute brothers, when they caroused too late over their cups. The young Johann, indeed, had sometimes dropped the wine-flask by reason of it, but Detloff still ran after the young maidens as much as ever, though even he had got such a fright that there was hope for his poor soul yet. So the mask was brought, and all the proper disguise to play the devil--namely, a yellow jerkin slashed with black, a red mantle, and a large wooden horse's foot. "When Dinnies beheld all this, and the man who played the devil instructed him how to put them on, he rejoiced greatly, and declared that now he alone could save the castle. I knew nothing of all this at the time," said Johann, "nor of the treason, neither did the band. We were all seated under a shed in the wood, that had been built for the young deer in the winter time, and had stuck a lantern against the wall while we gamed and drank, and our provider poured us out large mugs of the best beer, when, just at midnight, we heard a report like a clap of thunder outside, so that the earth shook under us (it was no thunder-clap, however, but an explosion of powder, which the traitor had laid down all round the shed, for we found the trace of it next day). "And as we all sprang up, in strode the devil himself bodily, with his horse's foot and cocks' feathers, and a long calf's tail, making the most horrible grimaces, and shaking his long hair at us. Fire came out of his mouth and nostrils, and roaring like a wild boar, he seized the little dwarf (whom you may remember, Sidonia), tucked him under his arm like a cock--and just as he was uttering a curse over his good game being interrupted--and cut his head clean off; then, throwing the head at me, growled forth-- "'Every day one, Only Sundays none" and disappeared through the door like a flash of lightning, carrying the headless trunk along with him. "When my comrades heard that the devil was to carry off one of them every day but Sunday, they all set up a screaming, like so many rooks when a shot is fired in amongst them, and rushed out in the night, seizing hold of horses or waggons, or whatever they could lay their hands on, and rode away east and west, and west and east, or north and south, as it may be. "_Summa_.--When I came to my senses (for I had sunk down insensible from horror, when the head of the dwarf was thrown at me), I found that the said head had bit me by the arm, so that I had to drag it away by force; then I looked about me, and every knave had fled--even my waggon had been carried off, and not a soul was left in the place of all these fine fellows, who had sworn to be true to me till death. "This base desertion nearly broke my heart, and I resolved to change my course of life and go to some pious priest for confession, telling him how the devil had first tempted me to sin, and then punished me in this terrible manner (as, indeed, I well deserved). "So next morning I took my way to the town, after observing, to my great annoyance, that the castle could have been as easily taken as a bird's nest; and seeing a beer-glass painted on a sign-board, I guessed that here was the inn. Truth to say, my heart wanted strengthening sorely, and I entered. There was a pretty wench washing crabs in the kitchen, and as I made up to her, after my manner, to have a little pastime, she drew back and said, laughing, 'May the devil take you, as he took the others last night in the barn!' upon which she laughed again so loud and long, that I thought she would have fallen down, and could not utter a word more for laughing. "This seemed a strange thing to me, for I had never heard a Christian man, much less a woman, laugh when the talk was of the bodily Satan himself. So I asked what there was so pleasant in the thought? whereupon she related what the young knight Dinnies Kleist had done to save his castle from the robbers. I would not believe her, but while I sat myself down on a bench to drink, the host comes in and confirmed her story. _Summa_, I let the conversion lie over for a time yet, and set about looking for my comrades, but not finding one, I fell into despair, and resolved to get into Poland, and take service in the army there--especially as all my money had vanished." Here the old parson said that Sidonia cried out, "How now, sir knave, you are going to buy castle and lands forsooth, and have no money? Truly the base villain is deceiving me yet again." But my knave answered, "Alas! woe that thou shouldst think so hardly of me! Have I not told thee that my father is going to give me my heritage? So listen further what I tell thee:--In Poland I met with Konnemann and Stephen Pruski, who had one of my waggons with them, in which all my gold was hid, and when I threatened to complain to the authorities, the cowards let me have my own property again, on condition that I would take them into my service, when I went to live at my own castle. This I promised; therefore they are here with me, as you see. And Konnemann went lately to my father at my request, and brought me back the joyful intelligence that he would assign me over my portion of his goods and property." So far the Pastor Rehewinkelensis heard. What follows concerning the wicked knave was related by his own sorrowing father to my worthy father-in-law, along with other pious priests, and from him I had the story when I visited him at Marienfliess. For what was my knave's next act? When he returned to the town, and heard from his comrades that the coachman of Saatzig was snoring away there in the stable with open mouth, he stuffed in some hay to prevent him screaming, and tied him hands and feet, then drew his horses out of the stall, yoked them to the carriage, and drove it himself a little piece out of the town down into the hollow, then went back for Sidonia, telling her that her stupid coachman had made some mistake and driven off without her, but he had put all her baggage on his own carriage, which was now quite ready, if she would walk with him a little way just outside the town. Hereupon she paid the reckoning, mine host troubling himself little about the affair of the waggon, and they set off on foot. When they reached the carriage, Sidonia asked if all her baggage were really there, for she could not see in the darkness. And when she felt, and reckoned all her bundles and trunks, and found all right, my knave said, "Now, she saw herself that he meant truly by her. Here was even a nice place made in the straw sack for her, where he had sat down first himself, that she might have an easy seat. _Item_, she now saw his own carriage which he had fished up in Poland and kept till now, that he might travel in it to Bruchhausen to receive his heritage, and he was going there this very night. She saw that he had lied in nothing." Whereupon Sidonia got into the carriage with him, never discovering his knavery on account of the darkness, and about midnight they reached the inn at Bruchhausen. CHAPTER XVIII. _How a new leaf is turned over at Bruchhausen in a very fearful manner--Old Appelmann takes his worthless son prisoner, and admonishes him to repentance--Of Johann's wonderful conversion, and execution next morning in the churchyard, Sidonia being present thereby._ My knave halted a little way before they reached the inn, for he had his suspicions that all was not quite right, and sent on the forenamed Pruski to ascertain whether the money was really come for him. For there was a bright light in the tap-room, and the sound of many voices, which was strange, seeing that it was late enough for every one to be in bed. Pruski was back again soon--yes, it was all right. There were men in there from Stargard, who said they had brought gold for the young burgomaster. Marry! how my knave jumped down from the carriage, and brought Sidonia along with him, bidding Pruski to stay and watch the things. But, behold, as my knave entered, six men seized him, bound him firmly, and bid him sit down quietly on a bench by the table, till his father arrived. So he cursed and swore, but this was no help to him; and when Sidonia saw that she had been deceived again, she tried to slip out and get to the carriage, but the men stopped her, saying, unless she wished a pair of handcuffs on, she had better sit down quietly on another bench opposite Johann. And she asked in vain what all this meant. _Item_, my knave asked in vain, but no one answered them. They had not long been waiting, when a carriage stopped before the door, more voices were heard, and, alas! who should enter but the old burgomaster himself, with Mag. Vito, Diaconus of St. John's. And after them came the executioner, with six assistants bearing a black coffin. My knave now turned as white as a corpse, and trembled like an aspen leaf; no word could he utter, but fell with his back against the wall. Then a dead silence reigned throughout the chamber, and Sidonia looked as white as her paramour. When the assistants had placed the coffin on the ground, the old father advanced to the table, and spake thus--"Oh, thou fallen and godless child! thou thrice lost son! how often have I sought to turn thee from evil, and trusted in thy promises; but in place of better, thou hast grown worse, and wickedness has increased in thee day by day, as poison in the young viper. On thy infamous hands lie so many robberies, murders, and seductions, that they cannot be reckoned. I speak not of past years, for then truly the night would not be long enough to count them; I speak only of thy last deeds in Poland, as old Elias von Wedel related them to me yesterday in Stargard. Deny, if thou darest, here in the face of thy death and thy coffin, how thou didst join thyself to the Lansquenets in Poland, and then along with two vile fellows got entrance into Lembrowo, telling the old castellan, Elias von Wedel, that thou wast a labourer, upon which he took thee into his service. But at night thou (O wicked son!) didst rise up and beat the old Elias almost unto death, demanding all his money, which, when he refused, thou and thy robber villains seized his cattle and his horses, and drove them away with thee. _Item_, canst thou deny that on meeting the same old Elias at Norenberg by the hunt in the forest, thou didst mock him, and ask, would he sell his castle of Lembrowo in Poland, for thou wouldst buy it of him, seeing thy father had promised thee plenty of gold? "_Item_, canst thou deny having written me a threatening letter, declaring that if by this very night a hundred dollars were not sent to thee here at Bruchhausen, a red beacon should rise up from my sheepfolds and barns, which meant nothing else than that thou wouldst burn the whole good town of Stargard, for thou knowest well that all the sheepfolds and barns of the burghers adjoin one to the other? Canst thou deny this, O thou lost son? If so, deny it now." Here Johann began again with his old knavery. He wept, and threw himself on the ground, crawling under the table to get to his father's feet, then howled forth, that he repented of his sins, and would lead a better life truly for the future, if his hard, stern father would only forgive him now. But Sidonia screamed aloud, and as the burgomaster in his sorrow had not observed her before, he turned his eyes now on her, and exclaimed, "Woe, alas! thou godless son, hast thou this noble maiden with thee yet? I thought she was at Saatzig; or perchance thou hast made her thy wife?" _Ille_.--"Alas, no; but he would marry her soon, to make amends for the wrong he had done her." _Hic_.--"This thou hast ten times promised, but in vain, and thy sins have increased a hundredfold; because, like all profligates, thou hast shunned the holy estate of matrimony, and preferred to wallow in the mire of unchastity, with any one who fell in the way of thy adulterous and licentious eyes." _Ille_.--"Alas! his heart's dearest father was right; but he would amend his evil life; and, in proof of it, let the reverend deacon, M. Vitus, here present, wed him now instantly to Sidonia." _Hic_.--"It is too late. I counsel thee rather to wed thy poor soul to the holy Saviour, like the repentant thief on the cross. See--here is a priest, and there is a coffin." Here the executioner broke in upon the old, deeply afflicted father, telling him the coffin was too short, as, indeed, his worship had told him, but he would not believe the young man was so tall. Where could he put the head? It must be stuck between his feet, or under his arm, cried out another. So some proposed one thing and some another, till a great uproar arose. Upon which the old mourning father cried out--"Do you want to break my heart? Is there not time enough to talk of this after?" Then he turned again to his profligate son, and asked him-- "Would he not repent, and take the holy body and blood of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, as a passport with him on this long journey? If so, let him go into the little room and pray with the priest, and repent of his sins; there was yet time." _Ille_.--"Alas, he had repented already. What had he ever done so wicked that his own bodily father should thirst after his blood? The courts were all closed, and law or justice could no man have in all Pomerania. What wonder then if club-law and the right of the strongest should obtain in all places, as in the olden time?" _Hic_.--"That law and justice had ceased in the land was, alas! but too true. However, he was not to answer for this, but his princely Grace of Stettin. And because they had ceased in the land, was he, as an upright magistrate, called upon to do his duty yet more sternly, even though the criminal were his own born son. For the Lord, the just Judge, the Almighty and jealous God, called to him daily, from His holy Word--'Ye shall not respect persons in judgment, nor be afraid of the face of man; for the judgment is God's.' [Footnote: Deut. i. 17.] Woe to the land's Prince who had not considered this, but compelled him, the miserable judge, to steep his father's hands in the blood of his own son. But righteous Abraham conquered through faith, because he was obedient unto God, and bound his own innocent son upon the altar, and drew forth his knife to slay him. Therefore he, too, would conquer through faith, if he bound his _guilty_ son, and drew out the sword against him, obedient to the words of the Lord. Therefore let him prepare himself for death, and follow the priest into the adjoining little chamber." When Johann found that his father could in no wise be softened, he began horribly to curse him and the hour of his birth, so that the hair of all who heard him stood on end. And he called the devil to help him, and adjured him to come and carry away this fierce and unnatural father, who was more bloodthirsty than the wild beasts of the forest--for who had ever heard that they murdered their own blood? "Come, devil," he screamed; "come, devil, and tear this bloodthirsty monster of a father to pieces before my eyes, so will I give myself to thee, body and soul! Hearest thou, Satan! Come and destroy my father, and all who have here come out to murder me, only leave me a little while longer in this life to do thy service, and then I am thine for eternity!" Now all eyes were turned in fear and horror to the door, but no Satan entered, for the just God would not permit it, else, methinks, he would have run to catch such a morsel for his supper. However, the old man trembled, and seemed dwindling away into nothing before the eyes of the bystanders as his son uttered the curse. But he soon recovered, and laying his quivering hands upon the head of the imprecator, broke forth into loud weeping, while he prayed thus-- "O Thou just and Almighty God, who bringest the devices of the wicked to nought, close Thine ears against this horrible curse of my false son; remember Thine own word--'Into an evil soul wisdom cannot enter, nor dwell in a body subject unto sin.' [Footnote: Wisdom i. 4.] Thou alone canst make the sinful soul wise, and the body of sin a temple of the Holy Ghost. O Lord Jesus Christ, hast Thou no drop of living water, no crumb of strengthening manna for this sinful and foolish soul? Hast Thou no glance of Thy holy eyes for this denying Peter, that he may go forth and weep bitterly? Hast Thou no word to strike the heart of this dying thief--of this lost son, who, here bound for death, has cursed his own father, and given himself up, body and soul, to the enemy of mankind? O blessed Spirit, who comest and goest as the wind, enter the heavenly temple, which is yet the work of Thy hands, and make it, by Thy presence, a temple of the Most High! O Lord God, dwell there but one moment, that so in his death-anguish he may feel the sweetness of Thy presence, and the heaven-high comfort of Thy promise! O Thou Holy Trinity, who hast kept my steps from falling, through so much care and trouble, through so much shame and disgrace, through so much watching and tears, and even now through these terrible curses of my son, come and say Amen to this my last blessing, which I, poor father, give him for his curse. "Yes, Johann; the Lord bless thee and keep thee in the death hour. The Lord shed his grace on thee, and give thee peace in thy last agonies! "Yes, Johann; the Lord bless thee and keep thee, and give thee peace upon earth, and peace above the earth! Amen, amen, amen!" When the trembling old man had so prayed, many wept aloud, and his son trembled likewise, and followed the priest, silently and humbly, into the neighbouring chamber. Then the old man turned to Sidonia, and asked why she had left her worthy cousin Marcus of Saatzig? Upon which she told him, weeping, how his son had deceived her, in order to get her once more into his power, in order that he might rob her, and all she wanted now was to be let go her way in peace to her farm-houses in Zachow. But this the old man refused. "No; this must not be yet. She was as evil-minded as his own son, and needed an example to warn her from sin. Not a step should she move till his head was off." And, for this purpose, he bid two burghers seize hold of her by the hands, and carry her to the scaffold when the execution was going to take place. The grave must be nearly ready now, which he bade them dig in a corner of the churchyard close by, and he had ordered a car-load of sand likewise to be laid down there, for the execution should take place in the churchyard. Meanwhile the poor criminal has come out of the inner chamber with M. Vitus, and going up to the bench where the poor father had sunk down exhausted by emotion, he flings himself at his feet, exclaiming, with the prodigal son in the parable-- "Father, I have sinned before heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son." Then he kissed his feet, and bedewed them with his tears. Now the father thought this was all pretence, as formerly, so he gave no answer. Upon which the poor sinner rose up, and reached his hand to each one in the chamber, praying their forgiveness for all the evil he had done, but which he was now going to expiate in his blood. _Item,_ he advanced to Sidonia, sighing-- "Would not she too forgive him, for the love of God? Woe, alas! She had more to forgive than any one; but would not she give him her pardon, for some comfort on this last journey; and so would he bear her remembrance before the throne of God?" But Sidonia pushed away his hand. "He should be ashamed of such old-womanish weakness. Did he not see that his father was only trying to frighten him? For were he in earnest, then were he more cruel even than her own unnatural father, who, though he had only left her two cabins in Zachow, out of all his great riches, yet had left her, at least, her poor life." Hereupon the poor sinner made answer-- "Not so; I know my father; he is not cruel; what he does is right; therefore I willingly die, trusting in my blessed Saviour, whose body will sanctify my body in the grave. For had I committed no other sin, yet the curse I uttered just now is alone sufficient to make me worthy of death, as it is written--'He that curseth father or mother shall surely be put to death.'" [Footnote: Exodus xxi. 17.] When the old man heard such-like words, he resolved to put his son's sincerity to the test, for truly it seemed to him impossible that the Almighty God should so suddenly make the crooked straight, and the dead to live, and a child of heaven out of a child of hell. So he spake-- "Thy repentance seemeth good unto me, my son, what sayest thou? will it last, think you, if I now bestow thy life on thee?" Hereat Sidonia laughed aloud, exclaiming-- "Said I not right? It was all a jest of thy dear father's." But the poor sinner would not turn again to his wallowing in the mire. He sat down upon a bench, covering his face with his hands, and sobbed aloud. At last he answered-- "Alas! father, life is sweet and death is bitter; but since the Holy Spirit hath entered into me with the body of our Lord, I say, death is sweet and life is bitter. No; off with my head! 'I find a law in my members warring against the law of my spirit, and making me a prisoner under the law of sin;' [Footnote: Romans vii. 23.] for if I see my neighbour rich and I am poor, then the demon of covetousness rises in me, and my fingers itch to seize my share. Or, if the foaming flask is before me, how can I resist to drain it, for the spirit of gluttony is within me? Or, if I see a maiden, the blood throbs in my veins, and the demon of lust has taken possession of me. 'Oh, wretched man that I am, who will deliver me from the body of this death?' You will, dearest father. You will release me from this life, as you once gave it to me, for it is now a life in death. Ah! show mercy! Come quickly, and release me from the body of this death!" When he ceased, the old man sprung up like a youth, and pressing his lost son to his heart, sobbed forth like him of the Gospel-- "O friends, see! 'This my son was dead, but is alive again; he was lost, and is found.' Yea, yea, see all that nothing is impossible with God. O Thou Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now I have nothing more to ask, but that I too may soon be released from the body of this death, and go forth to meet my new-found son amidst the bright circle of the Holy Angels." Then the son answered-- "Let me go now, father. See, the morning dawn shines already through the window; so hath the loving mercy of my God come to me, who sat in darkness and the shadow of death. Farewell, father; let me go now. Away with this head in the clear early morning light, so that my feet be fixed for evermore upon the path to peace." And so speaking, he seized M. Vitus by the hand, who was sobbing loudly, as well as most of the burghers, and the executioner with his assistants bearing the coffin were going to follow, when the old man, who had sunk down upon a bench, called back his son, though he had already gone out at the door, and prayed the executioner to let him stay one little while longer. For he remembered that his son had a welt upon his neck, and he must see whether it would interfere with the sword. Woe, woe! if he should have to strike twice or thrice before the head fell! So the executioner removed the neck-cloth from the poor sinner (who, by the great mercy of God, was stronger than any of them), and having felt the welt, said-- "No; the welt was close up to the head, but he would take the neck in the middle, as indeed was his usual custom. His worship may make his mind quite easy; he would stake his life on it that the head would fall with the first blow. This was his one hundred and fiftieth, and he never yet had failed." Then the unhappy criminal tied his cravat on again, took M. Vitus by the hand, and said-- "Farewell, my father; once more forgive me for all that I have done!" After which he went out quickly, without waiting to hear a word more from his father, and the executioner followed him. Meanwhile the afflicted father was sore troubled in mind. Three times he repeated the text--"Ye shall not respect persons in judgment, nor be afraid of the face of man, for the judgment is God's." Then he called upon God to forgive the Prince who, by taking away law and justice from the land, had obliged him to be the judge and condemner of his son. How the Lord dealt with the Prince we shall hear farther on. One while he sent mine host to look over the hedge, and tell him if the head were off yet. Then he would begin to pray that he might soon follow this poor son, who had never given him one moment of joy but through his death, and pass quickly after him through the vale of tears. The son, however, is steadfast unto the end. For when they reached the churchyard, he stood still a while gazing on the heap of sand. Then he desired to be led to the spot where his grave was dug; and near this same grave there being a tombstone, on which was figured a man kneeling before a crucifix, he asked-- "Who was to share his grave bed here?" Whereupon M. Vitus replied-- "He was a _rector scholæ_ out of Stargard, a very learned man, who had retired from active life, and settled down here at Bruchhausen, where he died not long since." Whereat the poor sinner stood still a while, and then repeated this beautiful distich, no doubt by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, to warn all learned sinners against that demon of pride and vain-glory which too often takes possession of them. "Quid juvat innumeros scire atque evolvere casus Si facieuda fugis et fugienda facis?" ["What is the use of knowledge and all our infinite learning, If we fly what is right and do what we ought to fly?"] Then he looked calmly at his grave, and only prayed the executioner not to put his head between his feet; after which he returned to the sand-heap and exclaimed-- "Now to God!" Upon which, M. Vitus blessed him yet again, and spake-- "O God, Father, who hast brought back this lost son, and filled this foolish soul with wisdom; ah! Jesus, Saviour, who, in truth, hast turned Thy holy eyes on him as on the denying Peter and on the dying thief. O Holy Spirit, who hast not scorned to make this poor vessel a temple for Thyself to dwell in, that in the death-anguish this sinner may find the sweetness of Thy presence and the heaven-high comfort of Thy promises! O Thou Holy Trinity--to Thee--to Thee--to Thee--to Thy grace, Thy power, Thy protection, we resign this dying mortal in his last agonies. Help him, Lord God! _Kyrle Eleison!_ Give Thy holy angels command to bear this poor soul into Abraham's bosom. O come, Lord Jesus; help him, O Lord our God. _Kyrie Eleison!_ Amen." And hereupon he pronounced a last blessing over him. And when the executioner took off his upper garment and bound the kerchief over his eyes, M. Vitus again spake-- "Think on the holy martyrs, of whom Basilius Magnus testifies that they exclaimed, when undressing for their death--_Non vestes exuimus, sed veterem hommem deponimus." [Footnote: "We lay not off our clothes, but the old man."--Basil the Great, Archbishop of Caesarea, A.D. 379.] Upon which he answered from under the kerchief something in Latin, but the executioner had laid the cloth so thickly even over his mouth and chin, that no one could catch the words. Then he kneeled down, and while the executioner drew his sword, M. Vitus chanted-- "When my lips no more can speak, May Thy Spirit in me cry; When my eyes are faint and weak, May my soul see Heaven nigh! When my heart is sore dismayed, This dying frame has lost its strength, May my spirit, with Thy aid, Cry--Jesu, take me home at length!" And all who stood round saw, as it were, a wonderful sign from God; for as the executioner let the sword fall, head and sun appeared at the same moment--the head upon the earth, the sun above the earth; and there was a deep silence. Sidonia alone laughed out loud, and cried, "So ends the conversion!" And while the psalm was singing, "Now, pray we to the Holy Ghost," the executioner acting as clerk, she disappeared, and for thirty years, as we shall hear presently, no one could ascertain where she went to or how she lived; though sometimes, like a horrible ghost, she was seen occasionally here and there. _Summa_.--The miserable criminal was laid in his coffin, and as, in truth, it was too short for the corpse, and the poor sinner had requested that his head might not be placed between his feet, so it was laid upon his chest, with his hands folded over it, and thus he was buried. The old father rejoiced greatly that his son remained steadfast in the truth until the last, and thanked God for it. Then he returned to Stargard; and I may just mention, to conclude concerning him, that the merciful God heard the prayer of this His faithful servant, for he scarcely survived his son a year, but, after a short illness, fell asleep in Jesus. [Footnote: For further particulars concerning this truly worthy man, who may well be called the Pomeranian Manlius, see Friedeborn, "Description of Old Stettin," vol. ii. p. 113; and Barthold, "Pomeranian History," pp. 46, 419.] CHAPTER XIX. _Of Sidonia's disappearance for thirty years--Item, how the young Princess Elizabeth Magdelene was possessed by a devil, and of the sudden death of her father, Ernest Ludovicus of Pomerania._ I have said that Sidonia disappeared after the execution at Bruchhausen, and that for thirty years no one knew where she lived or how she lived. At her farm-house at Zachow she never appeared; but the _Acta Criminalia_ set forth that during that period she wandered about the towns of Freienwald, Regenwald, Stargard, and other places, in company with Peter Konnemann and divers other knaves. However, the ducal prosecutor, although he instituted the strictest inquiries at the period of her trial, could ascertain nothing beyond this, except that, in consequence of her evil habits and licentious tongue, she was held everywhere in fear and abhorrence, and was chased away from every place she entered after about six or eight o'clock. Further, that some misfortune always fell upon every one who had dealings with her, particularly young married people. To the said Konnemann, she betrothed herself after the death of her first paramour, but afterwards gave him fifty florins to get rid of the contract, as she confessed at the seventeenth question upon the rack, according to the _Actis Lothmanni_. Meantime her brother and cousins were so completely turned against her, that her brother even took those two farm-houses to himself; and though Sidonia wrote to him, begging that an annuity might be settled on her, yet she never received a line in answer--and this was the manner in which the whole cousinhood treated her in her despair and poverty. I myself made many inquiries as to her mode of life during those thirty years, but in vain. Some said that she went into Poland and there kept a little tavern for twenty years; some had seen her living at Riigen at the old wall, where in heathen times the goddess Hertha was honoured. Some said she went to Riiden, a little uninhabited island between Riigen and Usdom, where the wild geese and other birds flock in the moulting season and drop their feathers. Thence, they said, she gathered the eggs, and killed the birds with clubs. At least this was the story of the Usdom fishermen, but whether it were Sidonia or some other outcast woman, I cannot in strict verity declare. Only in Freienwald did I hear for certain that she lived there twelve years with some earl whom she called her shield-knight; but one day they quarrelled, and beat each other till the blood flowed, after which they both ran out of the town, and went different ways. _Summa._--On the 1st of May 1592, when the witches gather in the Brocken to hold their Walpurgis night, and the princely castle of Wolgast was well guarded from the evil one by white and black crosses placed on every door, an old wrinkled hag was seen about eight o'clock of the morning (just the time she had returned from the Blocksberg, according to my thinking), walking slowly up and down the great corridor of the princely castle. And the providence of the great God so willed it that at that moment the young and beautiful Princess Elizabeth Magdalena (who had been betrothed to the Duke Frederick of Courland) opened her chamber-door and slipped forth to pay her morning greetings to her illustrious father, Duke Ernest, and his spouse, the Lady Sophia Hedwig of Brunswick, who sat together drinking their warm beer, [Footnote: Before the introduction of coffee or chocolate, warm beer was in general use at breakfast] and had sent for her. So the hag advanced with much friendliness and cried out, "Hey, what a beautiful young damsel! But her lord papa was called 'the handsome' in his time, and wasn't she as like him as one egg to another. Might she take her ladyship's little hand and kiss it?" Now as the hag was bold in her bearing, and the young Princess was a timid thing, she feared to refuse; so she reached forth her hand, alas! to the witch, who first three times blew on it, murmuring some words before she kissed it; then as the young Princess asked her who she was and what she wanted, the evil hag answered, "I would speak with your gracious father, for I have known him well. Ask his princely Grace to come to me, for I have somewhat to say to him." Now the Princess, in her simplicity, omitted to ask the hag's name, whereby much evil came to pass, for had she told her gracious father that SIDONIA wished to speak to him, assuredly he never would have come forth, and that fatal and malignant glance of the witch would not have fallen upon him. However, his Serene Grace, having a mild Christian nature, stepped out into the corridor at the request of his dear daughter, and asked the hag who she was and what she wanted. Upon this, she fixed her eyes on him in silence for a long while, so that he shuddered, and his blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins. [Footnote: This belief in the witchcraft of a glance was very general during the witch period. And even the ancients notice it (Pliny, Hist. Nat. vii. 2), also Aul. Gell. Noct. Attic, ix. 4; and Virgil, Eclog. in. 103. The glance of a woman with double pupils was particularly feared.] At last she spake: "It is a strange thing, truly, that your Grace should no longer remember the maiden to whom you once promised marriage." At this his Grace recoiled in horror, and exclaimed, "Ha, Sidonia! but how you are changed." "Ah!" she answered, with a scornful laugh, "you may well triumph, now that my cheek is hollow, and my beauty gone, and that I have come to you for justice against my own brother in Stramehl, who denies me even the means of subsistence--you, who brought me to this pass." Upon which his Grace answered that her brother was a subject of the Duke of Stettin. Let her go then to Stettin, and demand justice there. _Illa._--"She had been there, but the Duke refused to see her, and to her request for a _proebenda_ in the convent of Marienfliess had returned no answer. She prayed his Grace, therefore, out of old good friendship, to take up her cause, and use his influence with the Lord Duke of Stettin to obtain the _proebenda_ for her, also to send a good scolding to her brother at Stramehl under his own hand." Now my gracious Prince was so anxious to get rid of her, that he promised everything she asked. Whereupon she would kiss his hand, but he drew it back shuddering, upon which she went down the great castle steps again, murmuring to herself. But her wickedness soon came to light; for mark--scarcely a few days had passed over, when the beautiful young Princess was possessed by Satan; she rolls herself upon the ground, twists and writhes her hands and feet, speaks with a great coarse voice like a common carl, blasphemes God and her parents; and what was more wonderful than all, her throat swelled, and when they laid their hand on it, something living seemed creeping up and down in it. Then it went up to her mouth, and her tongue swelled so, that her eyes seemed starting from their sockets, and the gracious young lady became fearful to look at. _Item,_ then she began to speak Latin, though she had never learned this tongue, whereupon many, and in particular Mag. Michael Aspius, the court chaplain (for Dr. Gerschovius was long since dead) pronounced that Satan himself verily must be in the maiden. [Footnote: The ancients name three distinguishing marks of demoniacal possession:-- 1st, When the patient blasphemes God and cannot repeat the leading articles of his Christian belief. 2nd, When he foretells events which afterwards come to pass. 3rd, When he speaks in a strange tongue, which it can be proved he never learned. Now the somnambulists of our day fulfil the second and third conditions without dispute; and some account for the divining power by saying it is the effect of the increased activity of the soul. They also assert that the patient speaks in a strange tongue only when the magnetiser with whom he is in _en rapport_ understands the tongue himself, and the patient speaks it because all the thoughts, feelings, words, &c., of the operator become his--in short, their souls become one. This explanation, however, is very improbable, and has not been confirmed by facts; for the phenomenon of speaking in a strange tongue often appears before a perfect _rapport_ has been obtained between the patient and the operator. Indeed, Psellus gives an instance to show that it is not even at all necessary. (Psellus lived about the eleventh century, and wrote _De Operatione Doemonum,_ also _De Mysteriis AEgyptiorum,_ his works are very remarkable, and well worth a perusal.) He states that a sick woman all at once began to speak in a strange and barbarous tongue no one had ever heard before. At last some of the women about her brought an Armenian magician to see her, who instantly found that she spoke Armenian, though she had never in her life beheld one of that nation. Psellus describes him as an old lean wrinkled man. He acted quite differently from our modern magnetisers, for he never sought to place himself in sympathetic relation with her by passes or touches; on the contrary, he drew his sword, and placing himself beside the bed, began tittering the most harsh and cruel words he could think of in the Armenian tongue _(acriter conviciatus est)_. The woman retorted in the Armenian tongue likewise, and tried to get out of bed to fight with him. Then the barbarian grew as if mad, and endeavoured to stab her, upon which she shrunk back terrified and trembling, and soon fell into a deep sleep. Psellus seems to have witnessed this, for he says the woman was wife to his eldest brother. As further regards demoniacal possession, the New Testament is full of examples thereof; and though in the last century the reality of the fact was assailed, yet Franz Meyer has again defended it with arguments that cannot be overthrown. Remarkable examples of possession in modern times we find in the _Didiskalia,_ No. 81, of the year 1833, and in Berner's "History of Satanic Possession," p. 20.] This was fully proved on the following Sunday; for during divine service in the Church of St. Peter, the young Princess was carried in on a litter and laid down before the altar, whereupon she commenced uttering horrible blasphemies, and mocking the holy prayer in a coarse bass voice, while she foamed and raged so violently, that eight men could scarcely hold her in her bed. Whereat the whole Christian congregation were admonished to pray to the Lord for this poor maiden, that she might be freed from the devil within her; and during the week all priests throughout the land were commanded to offer up prayers day and night for her princely Grace. But on Sundays all the people were to unite in one common supplication to the throne of grace for the like object. And it seemed, after some weeks, as if God had heard their prayers, and commanded Satan to leave the body of the young maiden, for she had now rest for fourteen days, and was able to pray again. Also her rosy cheeks began to bloom once more, so that her parents were filled with joy, and resolved to hold a thank-festival throughout the land, and receive the Holy Sacrament in St. Peter's Church with their beloved daughter. But what happened? For as the godly discourse had ended, and their Graces stepped to the altar to make a rich offering on the plate which lay upon the little desk, free of approach from all sides, my knave Satan has again begun his work. Truly, he waited with cunning till her Grace had swallowed the Sacrament, that his blasphemies might seem more horrible. And this was the way he manifested himself. After the court marshal and the castellan had laid down a black velvet carpet, embroidered in gold with the Pomeranian and Brandenburg arms, for their Graces to kneel upon, they took another black velvet cloth, on which the Holy Supper was represented embroidered in silver, to hold before their Graces like a serviette, while they received the blessed elements. Then advanced the priest with the Sacrament, but scarcely had the gracious young Princess swallowed the same, when she uttered a loud cry and fell backwards with her head upon the ground, while Satan raged so in her that it might have melted the heart of a stone. So M. Aspius bade the organ cease, and then placed the young lady upon a seat, after which he called upon their Graces and the whole congregation to join him in offering up a prayer. Then he solemnly adjured the evil spirit to come out of her; it, however, had grown so daring that it only laughed at the priest; and when asked where it had been for so long, and in particular where it had lain while the Jesu bride was wedded to her Holy Saviour in the Blessed Sacrament, it impatiently answered that it had lain under her tongue; many knaves might lie under a bridge while an honourable seigneur passed overhead, and why should not it do the like? And here, to the unspeakable horror of the whole congregation, it seemed to move up and down in the chest and throat of the young Princess, like some animal. But the long-suffering of God was now at an end, for while the Reverend Dr. Aspius was talking himself weary with adjurations, and gaining no good by it, for the evil spirit only mocked and jeered him, crying, "Look at the fat parson how he sweats, maybe it will help as much as his chattering over the wine," who should enter the church (sent no doubt by the all-merciful God) but the Reverend Dr. Joel, Professor at Grypswald, for he had heard how this lusty Satan had taken possession of the princely maiden. When the devil saw him, he began to tremble through all the limbs of the young Princess, and exclaimed in Latin, _"Consummatum est."_ [Footnote: "It is over."] For this Dr. Joel was a powerful man, and learned in all the cunning shifts of the arch-enemy, having many times disputed de Magis. [Footnote: Of Witchcraft; see Barthold, iv. 2, 412.] Now when he advanced to the young Princess, and saw how the evil spirit ran up and down her poor form, like a mouse in a net, he was filled with horror, and removing his hat, exclaimed, without taking much heed of his Latin, _"Deus misereatur peccatoris."_ Upon which the devil, in a deep bass voice, corrected him, crying, _"Die peccatricls, die peccatricls."_ [Footnote: Peccatoris is masculine, Peccatricis feminine.] However, Satan himself felt that his hour had come; for when Doctor Joel laid his hand upon the maiden, and repeated a powerful adjuration from the _Clavilcula Salomonis,_ Satan immediately promised to obey if he were allowed to take away the oblation-cloth which lay upon the desk. _Ille._--"What did he want with the oblation-cloth?" _Satanas._--"There was a coin in it which vexed him." _Ille._--"What coin could it be, and wherefore did it vex him?" _Satanas._--"He would not say." _Ille._--(Adjures him again.) _Satanas._--"Let him have it, or he would tear the young maiden to pieces." And here he began to foam and rage so horribly, that her eyes turned in her head, and she gnashed with her teeth, so that father and mother had to cover their eyes not to see her great agony. Whereupon Doctor Joel bent down and wrote with his finger upon her breast the Tetragrammaton, crying out-- [Footnote: The four letters which compose the name Jehovah ( [Hebrew Text]). It was employed by the Theurgists in all their most powerful conjurations.] "Away, thou unclean spirit, and give place to the Holy Ghost!" Upon which the young maiden sank down as quiet as a corpse, and the oblation-cloth, which lay upon the desk, whirled round of itself in the middle of the church with great noise and clatter, as if seized by a storm-wind, and the money therein was all scattered about the church, so that the old wives who sat upon the benches fell down upon the floor, right and left, to try and catch it. Great horror and amazement now filled the whole congregation; yet as some had expressed an opinion that the young Princess was only afflicted by a sickness, and not possessed at all, Doctor Joel thought it needful to admonish them in the following words:-- "Those wise persons who, forsooth, would not credit such a thing as Satanic possession, might see now of a truth, by the oblation-cloth, that Satan bodily had been amongst them. He knew there were many such wise knaves in the church; therefore let them hold their tongue for evermore, and remember that such signs had been permitted before of God, to testify of the real bodily presence of the devil. Example (Matt. viii.), where, on the command of Christ, a legion of devils went into the swine of the Gergasenes; so that these animals, contrary to their nature, ran down into the sea and were drowned. But the wise people of this day little heed these divine signs; so he will add two from historical records which he happened to remember. "First, the Jew Josephus relates that, in presence of the world-renowned Roman captain Vespasian, of his son Titus, also of all the officers and troops of the army, an acquaintance of his, by name Eleazer, adjured the devil out of one possessed by means of the ring of Solomon, repeating at the same time the powerful spell which, no doubt, the great king himself employed to control the demons, and which, probably, was the very one he had just now exorcised the devil with, out of the _Clavicula Salomonis._ And to show the bystanders that it was indeed a devil which he had exorcised out of the nose of the patient, the said Eleazer bid him, as he was passing, to overturn a vessel of water that lay there, which indeed was done, to the great wonderment of all present. Thus even the blind heathen were convinced, though the would-be wise of the present day ignorantly doubted. "But people might say this happened in old times, and was only told by a stupid Jew; therefore he would give a modern example. "There was a woman named Kronisha (she was still well remembered by the old people of Stralsund), who was sorely given to pomp and vanity, wherefore a devil was sent into her to punish her; and after the preacher at St. Nicholas had exorcised him to the best of his power, the wicked spirit said, mockingly, that he would go if they gave him a pane of glass out of the window over the tower door; and this being granted, one of the panes was instantly scattered with a loud clang, and the devil flew away through the opening. [Note: See Sastrowen, his family, birth, and adventures. Edited by Mohnike, part i. 73.] "So the Christian congregation might now see what silly fools these wise people were who presumed to doubt," &c. Then Doctor Joel admonished the Prince himself to keep a diligent eye over this Satan, who, day by day, was growing more impudent in the land--no doubt because the pure doctrine of Dr. Luther vexed him sorely. And indeed his Highness, to show his gratitude for the recovery of his dear daughter, did not cease in his endeavours to banish witches from the land, knowing that Sidonia had brought all the evil upon the young Princess. Fifteen were seized and burned at this time, to the great joy of the country; but, alas! these truly princely and Christian measures little helped among the godless race, for evil seemed still to strengthen in the land, and many wonderful signs appeared, one of which I would not set down here, as it was only seen by the court-fool, but that events confirmed it. I mean that strange thing, along with a three-legged hare, which appeared eighty years before at the death of Duke Bogislaus the Great, and since at the death of each Duke of his house. By a strange whim of Satan's, this apparition was only visible to fools; until indeed (as we shall hear anon) it appeared to the nuns at Marienfliess, who bore witness of it. _Summa._--On the very day wherein the devil's brides were burned at Wolgast, the fool was walking at evening time up and down the great corridor, when a little manikin, hardly three hands high, started out from behind a beer-barrel, riding on a three-legged hare. He was dressed all in black, except little red boots which he had on, and he rides up and down the corridor--hop! hop! hop!--stares at my fool and makes a face at him; then rides off again--hop! hop! hop!--till he vanished behind the barrel. No one would believe the fool's story; but woe, alas! it soon became clear what the little manikin Puck denoted. For my gracious Prince, who had grown quite weak ever since this horrible witch-work, which had been raging for some weeks--so that Pomerania never had seen the like--became daily worse, and not even the fine Falernian wine from Italy, which used to cure him, helped him now. So he died on the 17th July 1591, aged forty-six years, seven months, and fifteen days, leaving his only son, Philippus Julius, a child of eight years old, to reign in his place. Whereupon the deeply afflicted widow placed the boy under the tutelage and guardianship of his uncle, the princely Lord of Stettin; but, woe! woe! the guardian must soon follow his dear brother! and all through the evil wickedness of Sidonia, as we shall hear in the following chapters. CHAPTER XX. _How Sidonia demeans herself at the Convent of Marienfliess--Item, how their Princely and Electoral Graces of Pomerania, Brandenburg, and Mecklenburg, went on sleighs to Wolgast, and of the divers pastimes of the journey._ After this, Sidonia disappeared again for a couple of years, and no man knew whither she had flown or what she did, until one morning she appeared at the convent of Marienfliess, driving a little one-horse waggon herself, and dressed no better than a fish-wife. On driving into the court, she desired to speak with the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf; and when she came, Sidonia ordered the cell of the deceased nun, Barbara Kleist, to be got ready for her reception, as his Highness of Stettin had presented her to a _præbenda_ here. So the pious old abbess believed the story, and forthwith conducted her to the cell, No. 11; but Sidonia spat out at it, said it was a pig-sty, and began to run clattering through all the cells till she reached the refectory, a large chamber where the nuns assembled for evening prayer. This, she said, was the only spot fit for her to put her nose in, and she would keep it for herself. Meanwhile, the whole sisterhood ran together to the refectory to see Sidonia; and as most of them were girls under twenty, they tittered and laughed, as young women-folk will do when they behold a hag. This angered her. "Ha!" she exclaimed, "the flesh and the devil have not been destroyed in them yet, but I will soon give them something else to think of than their lovers." And here, as one of them laughed louder than the rest, Sidonia gave her a blow on the mouth. "Let that teach the peasant-girl more respect for a castle and land dowered maiden." When the good abbess saw and heard all this, she nearly fainted with shame, and had to hold by a stool, or she would have fallen to the ground. However she gained fresh courage, when, upon asking for Sidonia's documents, she found that there were none to show. Without more ado, therefore, she bade her leave the convent; and, amidst the jeers and laughter of all the sisterhood, Sidonia was obliged to mount her one-horse cart again, or the convent porter had orders to force her out. By this all may perceive that, in place of repenting, Sidonia had fallen still further in the mire, wherein she wallowed yet for many years, as if it were, indeed, her true and natural element, like that beetle of which Albertus Magnus speaks, that died if one covered it with rose-leaves, but came to life again when laid in dung. Hardly had she left the convent-gate when the old abbess bade a carl get ready a carriage, and flew in it to Stettin herself, to lay the whole case before my gracious Prince, and entreat him, even on her knees, not to send such a notorious creature amongst them; for what blessing could the convent hope to obtain if they harboured such an infamous sinner? So his Grace wonders much over the daring of the harlot; for he had given her no _proebenda,_ though she was writing to him constantly requesting one. Nor would he ever think of giving her one; for why should he send such a hell-besom to sweep the pious convent of Marienfliess? The good abbess might rise up, for as long as he lived Sidonia should never enter the convent. And his Grace held by his word, though it cost him his life, as I shall just now relate with bitter sighs. It happened that, A.D. 1600, there was a terribly hard winter, so that the fresh Haff [Footnote: The river Haff] was quite frozen over, and able to bear heavy beams. Now, as the ice was smooth and beautiful as a mirror, my Lord of Stettin proposed to his guests--Joachim Friedrich, Elector of Brandenburg, his brother-in-law, and old Duke Ulrich of Mecklenburg, his uncle, to go over the Haff in sleighs, and pay a visit to the princely widow and her little son. Their Graces were well pleased at the idea. Whereupon his Highness of Stettin gave orders to have such a procession formed as never had been seen in Pomerania before for magnificence and beauty, and therefore I shall note down some particulars here. There were a hundred sleighs, some drawn by reindeer caparisoned like horses, and all decorated gaily. The three ducal sleighs in particular were entirely girded and lined with sable skin; each was drawn by four Andalusian horses; and my Lady Erdmuth, who was a great lover of show and pomp, had hers hung with little tinkling bells and chains of gold, so that no one to look at them could imagine how very little of the dear gold her gracious lord and husband had in his purse, by reason of the hardness of the times. The adornments of the other sleighs were less costly. Upon them came the ministers, the officials, and others pertaining to the retinue of the three princes: _item_, the ladies-in-waiting, and divers of the reverend clergy; last of all came the Duke's henchman, with a pack of wolf-dogs in leash: _item,_ several live hares and foxes; a live bear, which they purposed to let slip, for the pleasure and pastime of their Graces. But the young men out of the town, fifty head strong, and many of the knights, ran along on skates, headed by Dinnies Kleist, that mighty man, who bore in one hand the blood-banner of Pomerania, and in the other that of Brandenburg. Barthold von Ramin ran by his side with the Mecklenburg standard. He was a strong knight too. But ah! my God! how my Ramin, with his ox-head, was distanced by the wild men of Pomerania, as they ran upon the ice over the Haff! [Footnote: The blood-standard was granted by the Emperor Maximilian II. to Duke Johann Friedrich of Pomerania because he carried the imperial banner during the Turkish war of 1566. It only differed from the old banner by having a red ground--from thence its name. Both Pomerania and Brandenburg had wild men in their escutcheon, while Mecklenburg bore an ox's head.] Two reserve sleighs, drawn by six Frisian horses, finished the procession; they were laden with axes, planks, ropes, and dry garments, both for men and women. When their Graces mounted the sleighs amidst the ringing of bells and roaring of cannon, great was their astonishment to see their own initials stamped into the hard ice by Dinnies Kleist, as thus: F. U. J. E. J. F., which, however, afterwards caused much dismay to the honest burghers, for one of them--M. Faber, _a præceptor_--mistaking the J. for a G., read plainly upon the ice: "Fuge, J. F."--that is, "Fly, Johann Frederick!" Ah! truly has the gracious Prince flown from thence; but it is to a bitter death. During the journey, Duke Johann had much jesting with his brother-in-law, the Elector, who was filled with wonder at the strength of Dinnies Kleist, for he kept ahead even of the Andalusian stallions, and waved aloft the two banners of Pomerania and Brandenburg, while his long hair floated behind him; and sometimes he stopped, kissed the banners, and then inclined them to their Serene Princely Graces. Whereupon Duke Johann exclaimed, "Ay, brother, you might well give me a thousand of your wide-mouthed Berliners for this carl; though, methinks, if he had his will, he would make their wide mouths still wider." At this, his Electoral Grace looked rather vexed, and began to uphold the men of Cologne. Upon which his Highness cut him short, saying, "Marry, brother, you know the old proverb-- 'The men of Cologne Have no hues of their own, But the men of Stettin Are the true ever-green.' For where truly could your fellows find the true green in their sandy dust-box? Marry, cousin, one Pomerania is worth ten Margravates; and I will show your Grace just now that my land in winter is more productive than yours even in autumn." His Grace here alluded to the fisheries; for along the way, for twelve or fourteen miles, the fishermen had been ordered to set their nets by torchlight the night before, in holes dug through the ice, so that on the arrival of the princely party the nets might be drawn up, and the draught exhibited to their Graces. Now, when they entered the fresh Haff, which lay before them like a large mirror, six miles long and four broad, his Grace of Pomerania called out-- "See here, brother, this is my first storeroom; let us try what it will give us to eat." Upon which he signed to Dinnies Kleist to steer over to the first heap of nets, which lay like a black wood in the distance. These belonged to the Ziegenort fishermen, as the old schoolmaster, Peter Leisticow, himself told me; and as they had taken a great draught the day before, many people from the towns of Warp, Stepenitz, and Uckermund were assembled there to buy up the fish, and then retail it, as was their custom, throughout the country. They had made a fire upon a large sheet of iron laid upon the ice, while their horses were feeding close by upon hay, which they shook out before them. And having taken a merry carouse together, they all set to dancing upon the ice with the women to the bagpipe, so that the encampment looked right jovial as their Graces arrived. Now when the grand train came up, the peasants roared out-- "Donnerwetter, [Note: A common oath.] look at the plötz-eaters! See the cursed plötz-eaters! Donnerwetter, what plötz-eaters!" [Note: Plötz-eaters was a nickname given by the Pomeranians to the people of the Margravates. For the plötz (_Cyprinus Exythrophthalmus_) is a very poor tasteless fish, while the rivers of Pomerania are stocked with the very finest of all kinds. In return, the men of the Marks called the Pomeranians "Feather-heads," from the quantity of moor-palms (_Eriophorum vaginatum_) which grow in their numerous rich meadows.] And now they observed, during their shouting, that the water had risen up to their knees; and when the ducal procession rushed up, the abyss re-echoed with a noise like thunder, so that the foreign princes were alarmed, but soon grew accustomed thereto. Then the pressure of such a crowd upon the ice caused the water to spout out of the holes to the height of a man. So that by the time they were two bowshots from the nets, all the folk, the women and children especially, were running, screaming, in every direction, trying to save themselves on the firm ice, to the great amusement of their Graces, while a peasant cried out to the sleigh drivers-- "Stop, stop! or ye'll go into the cellar!" Hereupon his Grace of Pomerania beckoned over the Ziegenort schoolmaster, and asked him what they had taken, to which he answered-- "Gracious Prince, we have taken bley; the nets are all loaded; we've taken seventy schümers, [Footnote: A schümer was a measure which contained twelve bushels.] and your Grace ought to take one with you for supper." Now his Highness the Elector wished to see the nets emptied, so they rested a space while the peasants shovelled out the fish, and pitched them into the aforesaid schümers. But ah! woe to the fish-thieves who had come over from Warp and other places; for the water having risen up and become all muddy with fish-slime, they never saw the great holes, and tumbled in, to the great amusement of the peasants and pastime of their Graces. How their Highnesses laughed when the poor carls in the water tried to get hold of a net or a rope or a firm piece of ice, while they floundered about in the water, and the peasants fished them up with their long hooks, at the same time giving many of them a sharp prod on the shoulder, crying out-- "Ha! will ye steal again? Take that for your pains, you robbers!" Now when their Graces were tired laughing and looking at the fish hauled, they prepared to depart; but the schoolmaster prayed his Highness of Stettin yet again to take a schümer of fish for their supper, as their Graces were going to stop for the night in Uckermund. "But what could I do with all the fish?" quoth the Duke. To which the carl answered in his jargon-- "Eh! gracious master, give them to the plotz-eaters; that will be something new for them. Never fear but they'll eat them all up!" Hereupon his Highness the Elector grew nettled, and cried out-- "Ho! thou damned peasant, thinkest thou we have no bley?" "Well, ye've none here," replied the man cunningly. So their Graces laughed, and ordered a couple of bushels of the largest to be placed upon the safety sleigh. Now when they had gone a little farther and found the ice as smooth as glass, the henchman let loose the bear and the wolf-dogs after it. My stout Bruin first growls and paws the ice, then sets himself in earnest for the race, and, on account of his sharp claws, ran on straight for Uckermund without ever slipping, while the hounds fell down on all sides, or tumbled on their backs, howling with rage and disappointment. Yet more pleasant was the hare-hunt, for hounds and hares both tumbled down together, and the hares squeaked and the hounds yelped; some hares indeed were killed, but only after infinite trouble, while others ran away after the bear. After the hunt they came to another fishery, and so on till they reached Uckermund, passing six fisheries in succession, whereof each draught was as large as the first, so that his Grace the Elector marvelled much at the abundance, and seeing the nets full of zannats at the last halting-place, cried out-- "Marry, brother, your storeroom is well furnished. I might grow dainty here myself. Let us take a bushel of these along with us for supper, for zannat is the fish for me!" This greatly rejoiced his Grace of Stettin, who ordered the fish to be laid on the sumpter sleigh, and in good time they reached the ducal house at Uckermund, Dinnies Kleist still keeping foremost, and waving his two banners over his head, while Barthold Barnim and the other skaters hung weary and tired upon the backs of the sleighs. CHAPTER XXI. _How Sidonia meets their Graces upon the ice--Item, how Dinnies Kleist beheads himself, and my gracious lord of Wolgast perishes miserably._ The next morning early the whole train set off from Uckermund in the highest spirits, passing net after net, till the Duke of Mecklenburg, as well as the Elector, lifted their hands in astonishment. From the Haff they entered the Pene, and from that the Achterwasser. [Footnote: A large bay formed by the Pene.] Here a great crowd of people stood upon the ice, for the town of Quilitz lay quite near; besides, more fish had been taken here than had yet been seen upon the journey, so that people from Wolgast, Usdom, Lassahn, and all the neighbouring towns had run together to bid for it. But what happened? Alas! that his Grace should have desired to halt, for scarcely had his sleigh stopped, when a little old woman, meanly clad, with fisher's boots, and a net filled with bley-fish in her hand, stepped up to it and said-- "My good Lord, I am Sidonia von Bork; wherefore have you not replied to my demand for the _proebenda_ of Barbara von Kleist in Marienfliess?" "How could he answer her? He knew nothing at all of her mode of living, or where she dwelt." _Illa._--"She had bid him lay the answer upon the altar of St. Jacob's in Stettin. Why had he not done so?" "That was no place for such letters, only for the words of the Holy Spirit and the Blessed Sacrament of his Saviour; therefore, let her say now where she dwelt." _Illa._--"The richest maiden in Pomerania could ill say where the poorest now dwelt," weeping. "The richest maiden had only herself to blame if she were now the poorest; better had she wept before. The _proebenda_ she could never have; let her cease to think of it; but here was an alms, and she might now go her ways." _Illa_.--(Refuses to take it, and murmurs.) "Your Grace will soon have bitter sorrow for this." As she so menaced and spat out three times, the thing angered Dinnies Kleist (who held her in abhorrence ever since the adventure in the Uckermund forest), and as he had lost none of his early strength, he hit her a blow with the blood-standard over the shoulder, exclaiming, "Pack off to the devil, thou shameless hag! What does the witch mean by her spittings? The _proebenda_ of my sister Barbara shall thou never have!" However, the hag stirred not from the spot, answered no word, but spat out again; and as the illustrious party drove off she still stood there, and spat out after them. What this devil's sorcery denoted we shall soon see; for as they approached Ziemitze, and the ducal house of Wolgast appeared in sight, Dinnies Kleist started on before the safety sleigh; and as soon as the high towers of the castle rose above the trees, he waved the two banners above his head, and brought them together till they kissed. Having so held them for a space, he set forward again with giant strides, in order to be the first to arrive--although, indeed, the town was aware of the advance of the princely train, for the bells were ringing, and the blood-standard waved from St. Peter's and the three other towers. But woe, alas! Dinnies, in his impatience, never observed a windwake direct in his path, and down he sank, while the sharp ice cut his head clean off, as if an executioner had done it; and the head, with the long hair, rolled hither and thither, while the body remained fast in the hole, only one arm stuck up above the ice--it was that which held the Brandenburg standard, but the blood-banner of Pomerania had sunk for ever in the abyss. [Footnote: A windwake is a hole formed by the wind in the thawing season, and which afterwards becomes covered with a thin coating of ice by a subsequent frost.] When his Grace of Stettin beheld this, he was filled with more sorrow than even at the death of his fool; and, weeping bitterly, commanded seven sleighs to return and seize the evil hag; then with all speed, and for a terrible example, to burn her upon the Quilitz mountain. But when many present assured his Grace that such-like accidents were very common, and many skaters had perished thus, whereof even Duke Ulrich named several instances, so that his Grace of Stettin need not impute such natural accidents to witchcraft or the power of the hag, he was somewhat calmed. Still he commanded the seven sleighs to return and bring the witch bound to Wolgast, that he might question her as to wherefore she had spat out. So the sleighs returned, but the vile sorceress was no longer on the ice, neither did any one know whither she had gone; whereupon the sleighs hastened back again after the others. Now it was the Friday before Shrove Tuesday, about mid-day, when the princely party arrived at Wolgast; and Prince Bogislaff of Barth was there to receive them, with his five sons--namely, Philip, Franz, George, Ulrich, and Bogislaff. [Footnote: Marginal note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.--"This is not true; for I had a fever at the time, and remained at home."] And there was a great uproar in the castle--some of the young lords playing ball in the castle court with the young Prince, Philip Julius, others preparing for the carnival mummeries, which were to commence next evening by a great banquet and dance in the hall. Indeed, that same evening their Graces had a brave carouse, to try and make Duke Johann forget his grief about his well-beloved Dinnies Kleist: and his Grace thus began to discourse concerning him:-- "Truly, brothers, who knows what the devil may have in store for us? for it was a strange thing how my blood-standard sunk in the abyss, while that of my brother of Brandenburg floated above it. Think you that our male line will become extinct, and the heritage of fair Pomerania descend to Brandenburg? For, in truth, it is strange that, out of five brothers, two of us only have heirs--Bogislaff and Ernest Ludovicus, who has left indeed but one only son." Then Duke Bogislaff (whom our Lord God had surely blessed for his humility in resigning the government, and also because of his dutiful conduct ever towards his mother, even in his youth having brought her a tame seagull) made answer, laughingly: "Dear brother, I think Herr Bacchus has done more to turn Frau Venus against our race than Sidonia or any of her spells, therefore ye need not wonder if ye have no heirs. However, if my five young Princes listen to my warnings and shun the wine-cup, trust me the blood-standard will be lifted up again, and our ancient name never want a fitting representative." Meanwhile, as they so discoursed, and the gracious ladies looked down for shame upon the ground, young Lord Philip began a Latin argument with the Rev. Dr. Glambecken, court chaplain at Wolgast _de monetis;_ and pulled out of his pocket a large bag of old coins, which had been presented to him by Doctor Chytraeus, professor of theology at Rostock, with whom his Grace interchanged Latin epistles. [Foonote: See the Latin letters of the talented young Prince in Oelrich's "Contributions to the Literary History of the Pomeranian Dukes," vol. i. p. 67. He fell a victim to intemperance, though his death was imputed likewise to Sidonia, and formed the subject of the sixth torture examination.] This gave the conversation a new turn, and the ladies particularly were much pleased examining the coins; but the devil himself surely must have anagrammatised one of them, for over the letters, Pomerania, figures were scratched 356412789 --thus--Pomerania--giving the terrible meaning, _rape omnia_ (rob all); and many said that this must have been the very coin which the devil took that time he rent the oblation-table, at the exorcism of the young Princess. This discovery filled the Pomeranian Duke with strong apprehensions, and young Prince Franz handed over the coin to the Elector of Brandenburg, saying bitterly, "Yes, rob all! Doctor Joel of Grypswald has long since told me that it would all end this way--even as Satan himself has scratched down here--but my lord father will not credit him, he is so proud of his five sons. Doctor Joel, however, is a right learned man, and no one knows the mysteries of the black art better; besides, who reads the stars more diligently each night than he?" And behold, while he is speaking, the fool runs into the hall, pale, and trembling in every limb. "Alas! Lord Franz," he exclaimed, "I have seen the manikin again on his three-legged hare, which appeared at the death of Duke Ernest Ludovicus." But the young lord boxed him, crying, "Away, thou knave! must thy chatter help to make us more melancholy?" However Duke Bogislaff bid the fool stay, and tell them when and where he had seen the imp. My fool wiped his eyes, and began: "The young Lord Franz had bid him put on his best jacket (that which had been given him as a Christmas-box) for the carnival mummings on Shrove Tuesday; so he went up to the garret to get it himself out of the trunk, but, before he had quite reached the trunk, the black dwarf, with his little red boots, rode out from behind it on his three-legged hare--hop! hop! hop!--made a frightful face at him, and after a little while rode back again--hop! hop! hop! behind his old boots, which stood in a corner, and disappeared!" What the malicious Puck denoted we shall soon see--Oh, woe! woe! Next day all sorts of amusements were set on foot, to chase away gloomy thoughts out of the hearts of the illustrious guests--such as tilting with lances, dancing upon stilts, wrestling, rope-dancing. _Item,_ pickleherring and harlequins. Amongst these last the fool showed off to great advantage, for who could twist his face into more laughable grimaces? _Item,_ in the evening there was a mask of mummers, in which one fellow played the angel, and another dressed as Satan, with a large horse's foot and cock's plume, spat red fire from his mouth, and roared horribly when the angel overcame him (but withal I think the gloomy thoughts stayed there yet). And mark what in truth soon happened! When the drums and trumpets struck up the last mask dance in the great Ritter Hall, which every one joins in, old and young, his Grace, Duke Johann, went to the room of his dear cousin Hedwig, the princely widow, and prayed her to tread the dance with him; but she refuses, and sits by the fire and weeps. "Let not my dear cousin fret," said the Duke, "about the chatter of the fool." To which she replied, "Alas! wherefore not? For surely it betokens death to my darling little son, Philip Julius." "No," exclaimed the Duke quickly, "it betokens mine!" and he fell flat upon the ground. One can easily imagine how the gracious lady screamed, so that all ran in from the Knight's Hall in their masks and mumming-dresses, to see indeed the mumming of the true bodily Satan; and Doctor Pomius, who was at the mask likewise, ran in with a smelling-bottle, but all was in vain. His Grace lingered for three days, and then having received the Holy Sacrament from Doctor Glambecken, died in the same chamber in which he was born, having lived fifty-seven years, five months, twelve days, and fourteen hours. How can I describe the lamentations of the princely company--yea, indeed, of the whole town; for every one saw now plainly that the anger of God rested upon this ancient and illustrious Pomeranian race, and that He had given it over helplessly to the power of the evil one. _Summa._--On the 9th February the princely corse was laid in the very sleigh which had brought it a living body, and, followed by a grand train of princes, nobles, and knights, along with a strong guard of the ducal soldatesca, was conveyed back to Stettin; and there, with all due and befitting ceremonies, was buried on Palm Sunday in the vault of the castle church. CHAPTER XXII. _How Barnim the Tenth succeeds to the government, and how Sidonia meets him as she is gathering bilberries. Item, of the unnatural witch-storm at his Grace's funeral, and how Duke Casimir refuses, in consequence, to succeed him._ Now Barnim the Tenth succeeded to that very duchy about which he had been so wroth the day of the Diet at Wollin, but it brought him little good. He was, however, a pious Prince, and much beloved at his dower of Rügenwald, where he spent his time in making a little library of all the Lutheran hymn-books which he could collect, and these he carried with him in his carriage wherever he went; so that his subjects of Rügenwald shed many tears at losing so pious a ruler. _Item,_ the moment his Grace succeeded to the government, he caused all the courts to be reopened, along with the treasury and the chancery, which his deceased Grace had kept closed to the last; and for this goodness towards his people, the states of the kingdom promised to pay all his debts, which was done; and thus lawlessness and robbery were crushed in the land. But woe, alas!--Sidonia can no man crush! She wrote immediately to his Grace, soliciting the _proebenda,_ and even presented herself at the ducal house of Stettin; but his Grace positively refused to lay eyes on her, knowing how fatal a meeting with her had proved to each of his brothers, who no sooner met her evil glance than they sickened and died. Therefore his Highness held all old women in abhorrence. Indeed, such was his fear of them, that not one was allowed to approach the castle; and when he rode or drove out, lacqueys and squires went before with great horsewhips, to chase away all the old women out of his Grace's path, for truly Sidonia might be amongst them. From this, it came to pass that as soon as it was rumoured in the town, "His Grace is coming," all the old mothers seized up their pattens, and scampered off, helter-skelter, to get out of reach of the horsewhips. But who can provide against all the arts of the devil? for though it is true that Sidonia destroyed his two brothers, also his Grace himself, along with Philip II., by her breath and glance, yet she caused a great number of other unfortunate persons to perish, without using these means, as we shall hear further on; whereby many imagined that her familiar Chim could not have been so weak a spirit as she represented him, on the rack, in order to save her life, but a strong and terrible demon. These things, however, will come in their proper place. _Summa._--After Duke Barnim had reigned several years, with great blessing to his people, it happened that word came from Rügenwald how that his brother, Duke Casimir, was sick. This was the Prince whom, we may remember, Sidonia had whipped with her irreverent hands upon his princely _podex,_ when he was a little boy. Now Duke Barnim had quarrelled with the estates because they refused funds for the Turkish war; however, he became somewhat merrier that evening with the Count Stephen of Naugard, when the evil tidings came to him of his beloved brother (yet more bitter sorrow is before him, I think). So the next morning the Duke set off with a train of six carriages to visit his sick brother, and by the third evening they reached the wood which lies close beside Rügenwald. Here there was a large oak, the stem of which had often served his Grace for a target, when he amused himself by practising firing. So he stopped the carriage, and alighted to see if the twenty or thirty balls he had shot into it were still there. But alas! as he reached the oak, that devil's spectre (I mean Sidonia) stepped from behind it; she had an old pot in her hand filled with bilberries, and asked his Grace, would he not take some to refresh himself after his journey. His Highness, however, recoiled horror-struck, and asked who she was. She was Sidonia von Bork, and prayed his Grace yet once more for the _proebenda_ in Marienfliess. Hereat the Duke was still more horrified, and exclaimed, "Curse upon thy _proebenda,_ but thou shalt get something else, I warrant thee! Thou art a vile witch, and hast in thy mind to destroy our whole noble race with thy detestable sorceries." _Illa._--"Alas! no one had called her a witch before; how could she bewitch them? It was a strange story to tell of her." _The Duke._--"How did it happen, then, that he had no children by his beloved Amrick?" [Footnote: Anna Maria, second daughter of John George, Elector of Brandenburg.] _Illa_ (laughing).--"He better ask his beloved Amrick herself. How could she know?" But here she began to contort her face horribly, and to spit out, whereupon the Duke called out to his retinue--"Come here, and hang me this hag upon the oak-tree; she is at her devil's sorceries again! And woe! woe! already I feel strange pains all through my body!" Upon this, divers persons sprang forward to seize her, but the nimble night-bird darted behind a clump of fir-trees, and disappeared. Unluckily they had no bloodhounds along with them, otherwise I think the devil would have been easily seized, and hung up like an acorn on the oak-tree. But God did not so will it, for though they sent a pack of hounds from Rügenwald, the moment they arrived there, yet no trace of the hag could be found in the forest. And now mark the result: the Duke became worse hour by hour, and as Duke Casimir had grown much better by the time he arrived, and was in a fair way of recovery, his Grace resolved to take leave of him and return with all speed to his own house at Stettin; but on the second day, while they were still a mile from Stettin, Duke Barnim grew so much worse, that they had to stop at Alt-Damm for the night. And scarcely had he laid himself down in bed when he expired. This was on the 1st of September 1603, when he was fifty-four years, six months, sixteen days, and sixteen hours old. But the old, unclean night-bird would not let his blessed Highness go to his grave in peace (probably because he had called her an accursed witch). For the 18th of the same month, when all the nobles and estates were assembled to witness the ceremonial of interment, along with several members of the ducal house, and other illustrious personages, such a storm of hail, rain, and wind, came on just at a quarter to three, as they had reached the middle of the service, that the priest dropped the book from his hands, and the church became so suddenly dark, that the sexton had to light the candles to enable the preacher to read his text. Never, too, was heard such thunder, so that many thought St. Jacob's Tower had fallen in, and the princes and nobles rushed out of the church to shelter themselves in the houses, while the most terrific lightning flashed round them at every step. Yet truly it must have been all witch-work, for when the funeral was over, the weather became as serene and beautiful as possible. And a great gloom fell upon every one in consequence, for that it was no natural storm, a child could have seen. Indeed, Dr. Joel, who was wise in these matters, declared to his Highness Duke Bogislaff XIII. that without doubt it was a witch-storm, for the doctor was present at the funeral, as representative of the University of Grypswald. And respecting the clouds, he observed particularly that they were formed like dogs' tails, that is, when a dog carries his tail in the air so that it forms an arc of a circle. And this, indeed, was the truth. _Summa._--As by the death of Duke Barnim the government devolved upon Duke Casimir of Rügenwald, the estates proceeded thither to offer him their homage, but the Prince hesitated, said he was sickly, and who could tell whether it would not go as ill with him as with his brothers? But the estates, both temporal and spiritual, prayed him so earnestly to accept the rule, that he promised to meet them on the next morning by ten of the clock, in the great Rittersaal (knights' hall), and make them acquainted with his decision. The faithful states considered this a favourable answer, and were in waiting next morning, at the appointed hour, in the Rittersaal. But what happened? Behold, as the great door was thrown open, in walked the Duke, not with any of the insignia of his princely station, but in the dress of a fisherman. He wore a linen jacket, a blue smock, a large hat, and great, high fisher's boots, reaching nearly to his waist. _Item,_ on his back the Duke carried a fisherman's basket; six fishermen similarly dressed accompanied him, and others in a like garb followed. All present wondered much at this, and a great murmur arose in the hall; but the Duke threw his basket down by his side, and leaned his elbow on it, while he thus went on to speak: "Ye see here, my good friends, what government I intend to hold in future with these honest fishers, who accompanied me up to my dear brother's funeral. I shall return this day to Rügenwald. The devil may rule in Pomerania, but I will not; if you kill an ox there is an end of it, but here there is no end. Satan treats us worse than the poor ox. Choose a duke wheresoever you will; but as for me, I think fishing and ruling the rudder is pleasanter work than to rule your land." And when the unambitious Prince had so spoken, he drew forth a little flask containing branntwein [Footnote: Whisky] (a new drink which some esteemed more excellent than wine, which, however, I leave in its old pre-eminence; I tasted the other indeed but once, but it seemed to me to set my mouth on fire--such is not for my drinking), and drank to the fishers, crying, "What say you, children--shall we not go and flounder again upon the Rügenwald strand?" Upon which they all shouted, "Ay! ay!" His Grace then drank to the states for a farewell, and leaving the hall, proceeded with his followers to the vessel, which he ascended, singing gaily, and sailed home directly to his new fishing-lodge at Neuhausen. Such humility, however, availed his Grace nothing in preserving him from the claws of Satan; for scarcely a year and a half had elapsed when he was seized suddenly, even as his brothers, and died on the 10th May 1605, at the early age of forty-eight years, one month, twenty-one days, and seventeen hours. But to return to the states. They were dumb with grief and despair when his Grace left the hall. The land marshal stood with the staff, the court marshal with the sword, and the chancellor with the seals, like stone statues there, till a noble at the window called out-- "Let us hasten quickly to Prince Bogislaff, before he journeys off, too, with his five sons, and we are left without any ruler. See, there are the horses just putting to his carriage!" Upon this, they all ran out to the coach, and the chancellor asked, in a lamentable voice, "If his Grace were indeed going to leave them, like that other gracious Prince who owned the dukedom by right? The states would promise everything he desired--they would pay all his debts--only his Grace must not leave them and their poor fatherland in their sore need." Hereat his Grace laughed, and told them, "He was not going to his castle of Franzburg, only as far as Oderkrug, with his dear sons, to look at the great sheep-pens there, and drink a bowl of ewe's milk with the shepherds under the apple-tree. He hoped to arrive there before his brother Casimir in his boat, and then they might discuss the _casus_ together; indeed, when he showed him the sheep-pens, it was not probable that he would refuse a duchy which had a fold of twenty thousand sheep, for his brother Casimir was a great lover of sheep as well as of fish." Upon this, the states and privy council declared that they would follow him to Oderkrug to learn the result, but meanwhile begged of his Grace not to delay setting off, lest Duke Casimir might have left Oderkrug before he reached it. CHAPTER XXIII. Duke Bogislaff XIII. accepts the government of the duchy, and gives Sidonia at last the long-desired _proebenda_--_Item,_ of her arrival at the convent of Marienfliess. Now my gracious Lord Bogislaff had scarcely alighted at Oderkrug from his carriage, and drunk a bowl of milk under the apple-tree, when he spied the yellow sails of his brother's boat above the high reeds; upon which he ran down to the shore, and called out himself-- "Will you not land, brother, and drink a bowl of ewe's milk with us, or take a glance at the great sheep-pen? It is a rare wonder, and my lord brother was always a great lover of sheep!" But Prince Casimir went on, and never slackened sail. Whereupon his Highness called out again, "The states and privy councillors are coming, brother, and want to have a few words with you." Hereat Prince Casimir laughed in the boat, and returned for answer--"He knew well enough what they wanted; but no--he had no desire to be bewitched to death. Just give him the lands of Lauenburg and Butow as an addition to his dower, and then his dear Bogislaff might take all Pomerania to himself if he pleased." After which, doffing his hat for an _addio,_ he steered bravely through the _Pappenwasser_. When young Prince Franz heard this, he laughed loud, and said, "Truly our uncle is the wisest--he will not be bewitched to death, as he says--but what will my lord father do now, for see, here come the states already in their carriages over the hill!" Duke Bogislaff answered, "What else remains for me to do but to accept the government?" _Ille._--"Yes, and be struck dead by witchcraft, like my three uncles! Ah, my gracious lord father, before ever you accept the rule of the duchy, let the witch be seized and burned. Doctor Joel hath told me much about these witches; and believe me, there is no wiser man in all Pomerania than this magister. He can do something more than eat bread." Then he fell upon his father's neck, and caressed him--"Ah, dear father, do not jump at once into the government; burn the witch first: we cannot spare our dear lord father!" And the two young Princes George and Ulrich prayed him in like manner; but young Philip Secundus spake--"I think, brothers, it were better if our dear father gave this long-talked-of _proebenda_ to the witch at once; then, whether she bewitches or not, we are safe at all events." Hereupon his Highness answered--"My Philip is right; for in truth no one can say whether your uncles died by Sidonia's sorceries or by those of the evil man Bacchus. Therefore I warn you, dear children, flee from this worst of all sorcerers; not starting at appearances, as a horse at a shadow, for appearance is the shadow of truth. Be admonished, therefore, by St. Peter, and 'gird up the loins of your spirit: be sober, and watch unto prayer.' Then ye may laugh all witches to scorn; for God will turn the devices of your enemy to folly." Meanwhile the states have arrived; and having alighted from their coaches at the great sheep-pen, they advanced respectfully to the Duke, who was seated under the apple-tree--the land marshal first, with the staff, then the court marshal with the sword, and lastly the chancellor with the seals. The had seen from the hill how Duke Casimir sailed away without waiting to hear them, and prayed and hoped that his Highness would accept the insignia which they here respectfully tendered, and not abandon his poor fatherland in such dire need. The devil and wicked men could do much, but God could do more, as none knew better than his Highness. Herewith his Grace sighed deeply, and taking the insignia, laid staff and sword beside him; then, taking up the sword hastily again, he held it in his hand while he thus spake:-- "My faithful, true, and honourable states, ye know how that I resigned the government, out of free will, at the Diet at Wollin, because I thought, and still think, that nothing weighs heavier than this sword which I hold in my hand. Therefore I went to my dower at Barth, and have founded the beautiful little town of Franzburg to keep the Stralsund knaves in submission, and also to teach our nobles that there is some nobler work for a man to do in life than eating, drinking, and hunting. _Item,_ I have encouraged commerce, and especially given my protection to the woollen trade; but all my labours will now fall to the ground, and the Stralsund knaves be overjoyed; [Footnote: The apprehension was justified by the event; for on the departure of Duke Bogislaff, Franzburg fell rapidly to a mere village, to the great joy of the Stralsunders, who looked with much envy on a new town springing up in their vicinity.] however, I must obey God's will, and not kick against the pricks. Therefore I take the sword of my father, hoping that it will not prove too heavy for me, an old man; [Footnote: The Duke was then sixty.] and that He who puts it into my hand (even the strong God) will help me to bear it. So let His holy will be done. Amen." Then his Highness delivered back the insignia to the states, who reverently kissed his hand, and blessed God for having given so good and pious a Prince to reign over them. Then they approached the five young lords, and kissed their hands likewise, wishing at the same time that many fair olive-branches might yet stand around their table. This made the old Duke laugh heartily, and he prayed the states to remain a little and drink ewe's milk with them for a pleasant pastime; the shepherds would set out the bowls. Duke Philip alone went away into the town to examine the library, and all the vases, pictures, statues, and other costly works of art, which his deceased uncle, Duke Johann Frederick, had collected; and these he delivered over to the marshal's care, with strict injunctions as to their preservation. But a strange thing happened next day; for as the Duke and his sons were sitting at breakfast, and the wine-can had just been locked up, because each young lord had drunk his allotted portion, namely, seven glasses (the Duke himself only drank six), a lacquey entered with a note from Sidonia, in which she again demanded the _proebenda,_ and hoped that his Highness would be more merciful that his dead brothers, now that he had succeeded to the duchy. Let him therefore send an order for her admission to the cloister of Marienfliess. The answer was to be laid upon St. Mary's altar. Here young Lord Francis grew quite pale, and dropped the fork from his hands, then spake--"Now truly we see this hag learns of the devil, for how else could she have known that our gracious father had accepted the government, unless Satan had visited her in her den? But let his dearest father be careful. In his opinion, the Duke should promise her the _proebenda;_ but as soon as the accursed hag showed herself at the cloister (for the devil now kept her concealed), let her be seized and burned publicly, for a terrible warning and example." This advice did not please the old Duke. "Franz," he said, "thou art a fool, and God forbid that ever thou shouldst reign in the land; for know that the word of a Prince is sacred. Yes, Sidonia shall have the _proebenda;_ but I will not entrap my enemy through deceit to death, but will try to win her over by gentleness. The chancellor shall answer her instantly, and write another letter to the abbess of Petersdorf; and Sidonia's shall be laid upon the altar of St. Mary's this night, as she requested, by one of my lacqueys." Then Duke Philip kissed his pious father's hand, and the tears fell from the good youth's eyes as he exclaimed-- "Alas, if she should murder you too!" And here are the two letters, according to the copies which are yet to be seen in the princely chancery. _Sub. Hit. Marienfliess K, No. 683._ "WE, BOGISLAFF, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, DUKE OF STETTIN, POMERANIA, CASSUBEN, AND WENDEN; PRINCE OF RUGEN; COUNT OF CUTZKOW, OF THE LANDS OP LAUENBURG AND BUTOW; LORD, &c. "In consequence of your repeated entreaties for a _proetenda_ in the cloister of Marienfliess, We, of our great goodness, hereby grant the same unto you; hoping that, in future, you will lead an humble, quiet life, as beseems a cloistered maiden, and, in especial, that you will always show yourself an obedient and faithful servant of our princely house. So we commit you to God's keeping! Signatum, Old Stettin, the 2oth October 1603. "BOGISLAFF." The other letter, to the abbess of Petersdorf, was sent by a salmon lad to the convent, as we shall hear further on, and ran thus:-- "WE, BOGISLAFF, &c. "WORTHY ABBESS, TRUSTY AND WELL-BELOVED FRIEND! "Hereby we send to you a noble damsel, named Sidonia von Bork, and desire a cell for her in your cloisters, even as the other nuns. We trust that misery may have softened her heart towards God; but if she do not demean herself with Christian sobriety, you have our commands to send her, along with the fish peasants and others, to our court for judgment. "God keep you; pray for us! Signatum, &c. "BOGISLAFF." The letter to Sidonia was, in truth, laid that same night upon the altar of St. Mary's, by a lacquey, who was further desired to hide himself in the church, and see what became of it. Now, the fellow had a horrible dread of staying alone in the church by night, so he took the cook, Jeremias Bild, along with him; and after they had laid the letter down upon the altar, they crept both of them into a high pew close by, belonging to the Aulick Counsellor, Dieterick Stempel. Now mark what happened. They had been there about an hour, and the moon was pouring down as clear as daylight from the high altar window; when, all at once, the letter upon the altar began to move about of itself, as if it were alive, then it hopped down upon the floor, from that danced down the altar steps, and so on all along the nave, though no human being laid hands on it the while, and not a breath or stir was heard in the church. [Footnote: Something similar is related in the _Seherin of Prevorst_, where a glass of water moved of its own accord to another place.] Our two carls nearly died of the fright, and solemnly attested by oath to his Highness the truth of their relation. Thereby young Lord Franz was more strengthened in his belief concerning Sidonia's witchcraft, and had many arguments with his father in consequence. "His lord father might easily know that a letter could not move of itself without devil's magic. Now, this letter had moved of itself; _ergo_," &c. Whereupon his Highness answered-- "When had he ever doubted the power of Satan? Ah, never; but in this instance who could tell what the carls in their fright had seen or not seen? For, perhaps, Sidonia, when she observed them hiding in the pew, had stuck a fish-hook into the letter, and so drawn it over to herself. He remembered in his youth a trick that had been played on the patron--for this patron always went to sleep during the sermon. So the sexton let down a fish-hook through the ceiling of the church, which, catching hold of the patron's wig, drew it up in the sight of the whole congregation, who afterwards swore that they had seen the said wig of their patron carried up to the roof of the church by witchcraft, and disappear through a hole in the ceiling, as if it had been a bird. Some time after, however, the sexton confessed his knavery, and the patron's flying wig had been a standing joke in the country ever since." But the young lord still shook his head-- "Ah, they would yet see who was right. He was still of the same opinion." But I shall leave these arguments at once, for the result will fully show which party was in the right. _Summa._--Sidonia, next day, drove in her one-horse cart again to the convent gate at Marienfliess, accompanied by another old hag as her servant. Now the peasants had just arrived with the salmon, which the Duke despatched every fortnight as a present to the convent, and the letter of his Grace had arrived also. So, many of the nuns were assembled on the great steps looking at the fish, and waiting for the abbess to divide it amongst them, as was her custom. Others were gathered round the abbess, weeping as she told them of the Duke's letter, and the good mother herself nearly fainted when she read it. So Sidonia drove straight into the court, as the gates were lying open, and shouted-- "What the devil! Is this a nuns' cloister, where all the gates lie open, and the carls come in and out as if it were a dove-cot? Shame on ye, for light wantons! Wait; Sidonia will bring you into order. Ha! ye turned me out; but now ye must have me, whether ye will or no!" At such blasphemies the nuns were struck dumb. However, the abbess seemed as though she heard them not, but advancing, bid Sidonia welcome, and said-- "It was not possible to receive her into the cloister, until she had command from his Grace so to do, which command she now held in her hand." This softened Sidonia somewhat, and she asked-- "What are the nuns doing there with the fish?" "Dividing the salmon," was the answer. Whereupon she jumped out of the cart, and declared that she must get her portion also, for salmon was a right good thing for supper. Whereupon the sub-prioress, Dorothea von Stettin, cut her off a fine large head-piece, which Sidonia, however, pushed away scornfully, crying-- "Fie! what did she mean by that? The devil might eat the head-piece, but give her the tail. She had never in her life eaten anything but the tail-piece; the tail was fatter." So the abbess signed to them to give her the tail-end; after which, she asked to see her cell, and, on being shown it, cried out again-- "Fie on them! was that a cell for a lady of her degree? Why, it was a pig-sty. Let the abbess put her young litter of nuns there; they would be better in it than running up and down the convent court with the fish-carls. She must and will have the refectory." And when the abbess answered-- "That was the prayer-room, where the sisters met night and morning for vespers and matins," she heeded not, but said-- "Let them pray in the chapel--the chapel is large enough." And so saying, she commanded her maid, who was no other than Wolde Albrechts, though not a soul in the convent knew her, to carry all her luggage straight into the refectory. What could the poor abbess do? She had to submit, and not only give her up the refectory, but, finding that she had no bed, order one in for her. _Item,_ seeing that Sidonia was in rags, she desired black serge for a robe to be brought, and a white veil, such as the sisterhood wore, and bid the nuns stitch them up for her, thinking thus to win her over by kindness. Also she desired tables, stools, &c., to be arranged in the refectory, since she so ardently desired to possess this room. But what fruit all this kindness brought forth we shall see in _liber tertius_. END OF SECOND BOOK. BOOK III. FROM THE RECEPTION OF SIDONIA INTO THE CONVENT AT MARIENFLIESS UP TILL HER EXECUTION, AUGUST 19th, 1620. CHAPTER I. _How the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin, visits Sidonia and extols her virtue--Item, of Sidonia's quarrel with the dairywoman, and how she beats the sheriff himself, Eggert Sparling, with a broom-stick._ MOST EMINENT AND ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE!--Your Serene Highness will surely pardon me if I pass over, in _libra tertio_, many of the quarrels, bickerings, strifes, and evil deeds, with which Sidonia disturbed the peace of the convent, and brought many a goodly person therein to a cruel end; first, because these things are already much known and talked of; and secondly, because such dire and Satanic wickedness must not be so much as named to gentle ears by me. I shall therefore only set down a few of the principal events of her convent life, by which your Grace and others may easily conjecture much of what still remains unsaid; for truly wickedness advanced and strengthened in her day by day, as decay in a rotting tree. The morning after her arrival in the convent, while it was yet quite early, and Wolde Albrechts, her lame maid, was sweeping out the refectory, the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin, came to pay her a visit. She had a piece of salmon, and a fine haddock's liver, on a plate, to present to the lady, and was full of joy and gratitude that so pious and chaste a maiden should have entered this convent. "Ah, yes! it was indeed terrible to see how the convent gates lay open, and the men-folk walked in and out, as the lady herself had seen yesterday. And would sister Sidonia believe it, sometimes the carls came in bare-legged? Not alone old Matthias Winterfeld, the convent porter, but others--yea, even in their shirt-sleeves sometimes--oh, it was shocking even to think of! She had talked about it long enough, but no one heeded her, though truly she was sub-prioress, and ought to have authority. However, if sister Sidonia would make common cause with her from this time forth, modesty and sobriety might yet be brought back to their blessed cloister." Sidonia desired nothing better than to make common cause with the good, simple Dorothea--but for her own purposes. Therefore she answered, "Ay, truly; this matter of the open gates was a grievous sin and shame. What else were these giddy wantons thinking of but lovers and matrimony? She really blushed to see them yesterday." _Illa._--"True, true; that was just it. All about love and marriage was the talk for ever amongst them. It made her heart die within her to think what the young maidens were nowadays." _Hæc._--"Had she any instances to bring forward; what had they done?" _Illa._--"Alas! instances enough. Why, not long since, a nun had married with a clerk, and this last chaplain, David Grosskopf, had taken another nun to wife himself." _Hæc._--"Oh, she was ready to faint with horror." _Illa _ (sobbing, weeping, and falling upon Sidonia's neck).--"God be praised that she had found one righteous soul in this Sodom and Gomorrah. Now she would swear friendship to her for life and death! And had she a little drop of wine, just to pour on the haddock's liver? it tasted so much better stewed in wine! but she would go for some of her own. The liver must just get one turn on the fire, and then the butter and spices have to be added. She would teach her how to do it if she did not know, only let the old maid make up the fire." _Hæc_.--"What was she talking about? Cooking was child's play to her; she had other things to cook than haddocks' livers." _Illa_ (weeping).--"Ah! let not her chaste sister be angry; she had meant it all in kindness." _Hæc_.--"No doubt--but why did she call the convent a Sodom and Gomorrah? Did the nuns ever admit a lover into their cells?" _Illa_ (screaming with horror).--"No, no, fie! how could the chaste sister bring her lips to utter such words?" _Hæc_.--"What did she mean, then, by the Sodom and Gomorrah?" _Illa_.--"Alas! the whole world was a Sodom and Gomorrah, why, then, not the convent, since it lay in the world? For though we do not sin in words or works, yet we may sin in thought; and this was evidently the case with some of these young things, for if the talk in their hearing was of marriage, they laughed and tittered, so that it was a scandal and abomination!" _Hæc_.--"But had she anything else to tell her--what had she come for?" _Illa_.--"Ah! she had forgotten. The abbess sent to say, that she must begin to knit the gloves directly for the canons of Camyn. Here was the thread." _Hæc_.--"Thousand devils! what did she mean?" _Illa_ (crossing herself).--"Ah! the pious sister might let the devils alone, though (God be good to us) the world was indeed full of them!" _Hæc_.--"What did she mean, then, by this knitting--to talk to her so--the lady of castles and lands?" _Illa_.--"Why, the matter was thus. The reverend canons of Camyn, who were twelve in number, purchased their beer always from the convent--for such had been the usage from the old Catholic times--and sent a waggon regularly every half-year to fetch it home. In return for this goodness, the nuns knit a pair of thread gloves for each canon in spring, and a pair of woollen ones in winter." _Hæc_.--"Then the devil may knit them if he chooses, but she never will. What! a lady of her rank to knit gloves for these old fat paunches! No, no; the abbess must come to her! Send a message to bid her come." And truly, in a little time, the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf, came as she was bid; for she had resolved to try and conquer Sidonia's pride and insolence by softness and humility. But what a storm of words fell upon the worthy matron! "Was this treatment, forsooth, for a noble lady? To be told to knit gloves for a set of lazy canons. Marry, she had better send the men at once to her room, to have them tried on. No wonder that levity and wantonness should reign throughout the convent!" Here the good mother interposed-- "But could not sister Sidonia moderate her language a little? Such violence ill became a spiritual maiden. If she would not hold by the old usage, let her say so quietly, and then she herself, the abbess, would undertake to knit the gloves, since the work so displeased her." Then she turned to leave the room, but, on opening the door, tumbled right against sister Anna Apenborg, who was stuck up close to it, with her ear against the crevice, listening to what was passing inside. Anna screamed at first, for the good mother's head had given her a stout blow, but recovering quickly, as the two prioresses passed out, curtsied to Sidonia-- "Her name was Anna Apenborg. Her father, Elias, dwelt in Nadrensee, near Old Stettin, and her great-great-grandfather, Caspar, had been with Bogislaff X. in the Holy Land. She had come to pay her respects to the new sister, for she was cooking in the kitchen yesterday when the lady arrived, and never got a sight of her, but she heard that this dear new sister was a great lady, with castles and lands. Her father's cabin was only a poor thing thatched with straw," &c. All this pleased the proud Sidonia mightily, so she beckoned her into the room, where the aforesaid Anna immediately began to stare about her, and devour everything with her eyes; but seeing such scanty furniture, remarked inquiringly-- "The dear sister's goods are, of course, on the road?" This spoiled all Sidonia's good-humour in a moment, and she snappishly asked-- "What brought her there?" Hereupon the other excused herself-- "The maid had told her that the dear sister was going to eat her salmon for her lunch, with bread and butter, but it was much better with kale, and if she had none, her maid might come down now and cut some in the garden. This was what she had to say. She heard, indeed, that the sub-prioress and Agnes Kleist ate their salmon stewed in butter, but that was too rich; for one should be very particular about salmon, it was so apt to disagree. However, if sister Sidonia would just mind her, she would teach her all the different ways of dressing it, and no one was ever the worse for eating salmon, if they followed her plan." But before Sidonia had time to answer, the chatterbox had run to the door and lifted the latch-- "There was a strange woman in the courtyard, with something under her apron. She must go and see what it was, but would be back again instantly with the news." In a short time she returned, bringing along with her Sheriff Sparling's dairy-woman, who carried a large bundle of flax under her apron. This she set down before Sidonia-- "And his worship bid her say that she must spin all this for him without delay, for he wanted a new set of shirts, and the thread must be with the weaver by Christmas." When Sidonia heard this, she fell into a right rage in earnest-- "May the devil wring his ears, the peasant carl! To send such a message to a lady of her degree!" Then she pitched the flax out of the door, and wanted to shove the dairy-woman out after it, but she stopped, and said-- "His worship gave all the nuns a bushel of seed for their trouble, and sowed it for them; so she had better do as the others did." Sidonia, however, was not to be appeased-- "May the devil take her and her flax, if she did not trot out of that instantly." So she pushed the poor woman out, and then panting and blowing with rage, asked Anna Apenborg to tell her what this boor of a sheriff was like? _Illa_.--"He was a strange man. Ate fish every day, and always cooked the one way, namely, in beer. How this was possible she could not understand. To-day she heard he was to have pike for his dinner." _Hæc_.--"Was she asking the fool what he ate? What did she care about his dinners? But what sort of man was he, and did all the nuns, in truth, spin for him?" _Illa_.--"Ay, truly, except Barbara Schetzkow; she was dead now. But once when he went storming to her cell, she just turned him out, and so she had peace ever after. For he roared like a bear, but, in truth, was a cowardly rabbit, this same sheriff. And she heard, that one time, when he was challenged by a noble, he shrank away, and never stood up to his quarrel." But just then in walked the sheriff himself, with a horse-whip in his hand. He was a thick-set, grey-headed fellow, and roared at Sidonia-- "What! thou old, lean hag--so thou wilt spin no flax? May the devil take thee, but thou shalt obey my commands!" While he thus scolded, Sidonia quietly caught hold of the broom, and grasping it with both hands, gave such a blow with the handle on the grey pate of the sheriff, that he tumbled against the door, while she screamed out-- "Ha! thou peasant boor, take that for calling me a hag--the lady of castle and lands!" Then she struck him again and again, till the sheriff at last got the door open and bolted out, running down the stairs as hard as he could, and into the courtyard, where, when he was safely landed, he shook the horsewhip up at Sidonia's windows, crying out-- "I will make you pay dear for this. Anna Apenborg was witness of the assault. I will swear information this very day before his Highness, how the hag assaulted me, the sheriff, and superintendent of the convent, in the performance of my duty, and pray him to deliver an honourable cloister from the presence of such a vagabond." Then he went to the abbess, and begged her and the nuns to sustain him in his accusation-- "Such wickedness and arrogance had never yet been seen under the sun. Let the good abbess only feel his head; there was a lump as big as an egg on it. Truly, he had had a mind to horsewhip her black and blue; but that would have been illegal; so he thanked God that he had restrained himself." Then he made the abbess feel his head again; also Anna Apenborg, who happened to come in that moment. But the worthy mother knew not what to do. She told the sheriff of Sidonia's behaviour as she drove into the convent; also how she had possessed herself of the refectory by force, refused to knit or spin, and had sent for her, the abbess, bidding her come to her, as if she were no better than a serving-wench. At last the sheriff desired all the nuns to be sent for, and in their presence drew up a petition to his Highness, praying that the honourable convent might be delivered from the presence of this dragon, for that no peace could be expected within the walls until this vagabond and evil-minded old hag were turned out on the road again, or wherever else his Highness pleased. Every one present signed this, with the exception of Anna Apenborg and the sub-prioress, Dorothea Stettin. And many think that in consideration of this gentleness, Sidonia afterwards spared their lives, and did not bring them to a premature grave, like as she did the worthy abbess and others. For the next time that she caught Anna at her old habit of listening, Sidonia said, while boxing her-- "You should get something worse than a box on the ear, only for your refusal to sign that lying petition to his Highness." _Summa_.--After a few days, an answer arrived from his Grace the Duke of Stettin, and the abbess, with the sheriff, proceeded with it to Sidonia's apartment. They found her brewing beer, an art in which she excelled; and the letter which they handed to her ran thus, according to the copy received likewise by the convent:-- "WE, BOGISLAFF, BY THE GRACE OF GOD, DUKE OF STETTIN, &c. "Having heard from our sheriff and the pious sisterhood of Marienfliess, of thy unseemly behaviour, in causing uproars and tumults in the convent; further, of thy having struck our worthy sheriff on the head with a broom-stick--We hereby declare, desire, and command, that, unless thou givest due obedience to the authorities, lay and spiritual, doing this well, with humility and meekness, even as the other sisters, the said authorities shall have full power to turn thee out of the convent, by means of their bailiffs or otherwise, as they please, giving thee back again to that perdition from which thou wast rescued. Further, thou art herewith to deliver up the refectory to the abbess, of which We hear thou hast shamefully possessed thyself. "Old Stettin, 10th November, 1603. "BOGISLAFF." Sidonia scarcely looked at the letter, but thrust it under the pot on the fire, where it soon blazed away to help the brewing, and exclaimed-- "They had forged it between them; the Prince never wrote a line of it. Nor would he have sent it to her by the hands of her enemies. Let it burn there. Little trouble would she take to read their villainy. But never fear, they should have something in return for their pains." Hereupon she blew on them both, and they had scarcely reached the court, after leaving her apartment, when both were seized with excruciating pains in their limbs; both the sheriff and the abbess were affected in precisely the same way--a violent pain first in the little finger, then on through the hand, up the arm, finally, throughout the whole frame, as if the members were tearing asunder, till they both screamed aloud for very agony. Doctor Schwalenberg is sent for from Stargard, but his salve does no good; they grow worse rather, and their cries are dreadful to listen to, for the pain has become intolerable. So my brave sheriff turns from a roaring ox into a poor cowardly hare, and sends off the dairy-woman with a fine haunch of venison and a sweetbread to Sidonia: "His worship's compliments to the illustrious lady with these, and begged to know if she could send him anything good for the rheumatism, which had attacked him quite suddenly. The Stargard doctor was not worth the air he breathed, and his salve had only made him worse in place of better. He would send the illustrious lady also some pounds of wax-lights; she might like them through the winter, but they were not made yet." When Sidonia heard this she laughed loudly, danced about, and repeated the verse which was then heard for the first time from her lips; but afterwards she made use of it, when about any evil deed:-- "Also kleien und also kratzen, Meine Hunde und meine Katzen." ["So claw and so scratch, My dogs and my cats."] The dairy-woman stood by in silent wonder, first looking at Sidonia, then at Wolde, who began to dance likewise, and chanted:-- "Also kleien und also kratzen, Unsre Hunde und unsre Katzen." ["So claw and so scratch, Our dogs and our cats."] At last Sidonia answered, "This time I will help him; but if he ever bring the roaring ox out of the stall again, assuredly he will repent it." Hereon the dairy-mother turned to depart, but suddenly stood quite still, staring at Anne Wolde; at length said, "Did I not see thee years ago spinning flax in my mother's cellar, when the folk wanted to bring thee to an ill end?" But the hag denied it all--"The devil may have been in her mother's cellar, but she had never seen Marienfliess in her life before, till she came hither with this illustrious lady." So the other seemed to believe her, and went out; and by the time she reached her master's door, his pains had all vanished, so that he rode that same day at noon to the hunt. The poor abbess heard of all this through Anna Apenborg, and thereupon bethought herself of a little embassy likewise. So she bid Anna take all sorts of good pastry, and a new kettle, and greet the Lady Sidonia from her--"Could the dear sister give her anything for the rheumatism?" She heard the sheriff was quite cured, and all the doctor's salves and plasters were only making her worse. She sent the dear sister a few dainties--_item_, a new kettle, as her own kettle had not yet arrived. _Item_, she begged her acceptance of all the furniture, &c., which she had lent her for her apartment. At this second message, the horrible witch laughed and danced as before, repeating the same couplet; and the old hag, Wolde, danced behind her like her shadow. Now Anna Apenborg's curiosity was excited in the highest degree at all this, and her feet began to beat up and down on the floor as if she were dying to dance likewise; at last she exclaimed, "Ah, dear lady! what is the meaning of that? Could you not teach it to me, if it cures the rheumatism? that is, if there be no devil's work in it (from which God keep us). I have twelve pounds of wool lying by me; will you take it, dear lady, for teaching me the secret?" But Sidonia answered, "Keep your wool, good Anna, and I will keep my secret, seeing that it is impossible for me to teach it to you; for know, that a woman can only learn it of a man, and a man of a woman; and this we call the doctrine of sympathies. However, go your ways now, and tell the abbess that, if she does my will, I will visit her and see what I can do to help her; but, remember, my will she must do." Hereupon sister Anna was all eagerness to know what her will was, but Sidonia bade her hold her tongue, and then locked up the viands in the press, while Wolde went into the kitchen with the kettle, where Anna Apenborg followed her slowly, to try and pick something out of the old hag, but without any success, as one may easily imagine. CHAPTER II. _How Sidonia visits the abbess, Magdalena von Petersdorf, and explains her wishes, but is diverted to other objects by a sight of David Ludeck, the chaplain to the convent._ When Sidonia went to visit the abbess, as she had promised, she found her lying in bed and moaning, so that it might have melted the heart of a stone; but the old witch seemed quite surprised--"What could be the matter with the dear, good mother? but by God's help she would try and cure her. Only, concerning this little matter of the refectory, it might as well be settled first, for Anna Apenborg told her the room was to be taken from her; but would not the good mother permit her to keep it?" And when the tortured matron answered, "Oh yes; keep it, keep it," Sidonia went on-- "There was just another little favour she expected for curing her dear mother (for, by God's help, she expected to cure her). This was, to make her sub-prioress in place of Dorothea Stettin; for, in the first place, the situation was due to her rank, she being the most illustrious lady in the convent, dowered with castles and lands; secondly, because her illustrious forefathers had helped to found this convent; and thirdly, it was due to her age, for she was the natural mother of all these young doves, and much more fitted to keep them in order and strict behaviour than Dorothea Stettin." Here the abbess answered, "How could she make her sub-prioress while the other lived? This was not to be done? Truly sister Dorothea was somewhat prudish and whining, this she could not deny, for she had suffered many crosses in her path; but, withal, she was an upright, honest creature, with the best and simplest heart in the world; and so little selfishness, that verily she would lay down her life for the sisterhood, if it were necessary." _Illa_.--"A good heart was all very well, but what could it do without respect? and how could a poor fool be respected who fell into fits if she saw a bride, particularly here, where the young sisters thought of nothing but marriage from morning till night." _Hæc_.--"Yet she was held in great respect and honour by all the sisterhood, as she herself could testify." _Illa_.--"Stuff! she must be sub-prioress, and there was an end of it, or the abbess might lie groaning there till she was as stiff as a pole." "Alas! Sidonia," answered the abbess, "I would rather lie here as stiff as a pole--or, in other words, lie here a corpse, for I understand thy meaning--than do aught that was unjust." _Illa_.--"What was unjust? The old goose need not be turned out of her office by force, but persuaded out of it--that would be an easy matter, if she were so humble and excellent a creature." _Hæc_.--"But then deceit must be practised, and that she could never bring herself to." _Illa_.--"Yet you could all practise deceit against me, and send off that complaint to his Highness the Prince." _Hæc_.--"There was no falsehood there nor deceit, but the openly expressed wish of the whole convent, and of his worship the sheriff." _Illa_.--"Then let the whole convent and his worship the sheriff make her well again; she would not trouble herself about the matter." Whereupon she rose to depart, but the suffering abbess stretched out her hands, and begged, for the sake of Jesus, that she would release her from this torture! "Take everything--everything thou wishest, Sidonia--only leave me my good conscience. Thy dying hour must one day come too; oh! think on that." _Illa_.--"The dying hour is a long way off yet" (and she moved to the door). _Hæc _(murmuring):-- "Why should health from God estrange thee? Morning cometh and may change thee; Life, to-day, its hues may borrow Where the grave-worm feeds to-morrow." _Illa_.--"Look to yourself then. Speak! Make me sub-prioress, and be Cured on the instant." _Hæc _ (turning herself back upon the pillow).--"No, no, temptress; begone:-- "'Softest pillow for the dying, Is a conscience void of dread.' Go, leave me; my life is in the hand of God. 'For if we live, we live unto the Lord; and if we die, we die unto the Lord. Living, therefore, or dying, we are the Lord's.'" So saying, the pious mother turned her face to the wall, and Sidonia went out of the chamber. In a little while, however, she returned--"Would the good mother promise, at least, to offer no opposition, if Dorothea Stettin proposed, of her own free will, to resign the office of sub-prioress? If so, let her reach forth her hand; she would soon find the pains leave her." The poor abbess assented to this, and oh, wonder! as it came, so it went; first out of the little finger, and then by degrees out of the whole body, so that the old mother wept for joy, and thanked her murderess. Just then the door opened, and David Ludeck, the chaplain, whom the abbess had sent for, entered in his surplice. He was a fine tall man, of about thirty-five years, with bright red lips and jet-black beard. He wondered much on hearing how the abbess had been cured by what Sidonia called "sympathies," and smelled devil's work in it, but said nothing--for he was afraid; spoke kindly to the witch-hag even, and extolled her learning and the nobility of her race; declaring that he knew well that the Von Borks had helped mainly to found this cloister. This mightily pleased the sorceress, and she grew quite friendly, asking him at last, "What news he had of his wife and children?" And when he answered, "He had no wife nor children," her eyes lit up again like old cinders, and she began to jest with him about his going about so freely in a cloister, as she observed he did. But when she saw that the priest looked grave at the jestings, she changed her tone, and demurely asked him, "If he would be ready after sermon on Sunday to assist at her assuming the nun's dress; for though many had given up this old usage, yet she would hold by it, for love of Jesu." This pleased the priest, and he promised to be prepared. Then Sidonia took her leave; but scarcely had she reached her own apartment when she sent for Anna Apenborg. "What sort of man was this chaplain? she saw that he went about the convent at his pleasure. This was strange when he was unmarried." _Illa_.--"He was a right friendly and well-behaved gentleman. Nothing unseemly in word or deed had ever been heard of him." _Hæc_.--"Then he must have some private love-affair." _Illa_.--"Some said he was paying court to Bamberg's sister there in Jacobshagen." _Hæc_.--"Ha! very probable. But was it true? for otherwise he should never go about amongst the nuns the way he did. It was quite abominable: an unmarried man; Dorothea Stettin was right. But how could they ascertain the fact?" _Illa_.--"That was easily done. She was going next morning to Jacobshagen, and would make out the whole story for her. Indeed, she herself, too, was curious about it." _Hæc_.--"All right. This must be done for the honour of the cloister. For according to the rules of 1569, the court chaplain was to be an old man, who should teach the sisters to read and write. Whereas, here was a fine carl with red lips and a black beard--unmarried too. Did he perchance ever teach any of them to read or write?" _Illa_.--"No; for they all knew how already." _Hæc_.--"Still there was something wrong in it. No, no, in such matters youth has no truth; Dorothea Stettin was quite right. Ah, what a wonderful creature, that excellent Dorothea! Such modesty and purity she had never met with before. Would that all young maidens were like her, and then this wicked world would be something better." _Illa_ (sighing).--"Ah, yes; but then sister Dorothea went rather far in her notions." _Hæc_.--"How so? In these matters one could never go too far." _Illa_.--"Why, when a couple were called in church, or a woman was churched, Dorothea nearly fainted. Then, there was a niche in the chancel for which old Duke Barnim had given them an Adam and Eve, which he turned and carved himself. But Dorothea was quite shocked at the Adam, and made a little apron to hang before him, though the abbess and the whole convent said that it was not necessary. But she told them, that unless Adam wore his apron, never would she set foot in the chapel. Now, truly this was going rather far. _Item_, she has been heard to wonder how the Lord God could send all the animals naked into the world; as cats, dogs, horses, and the like. Indeed, she one day disputed sharply on the matter with the chaplain; but he only laughed at her, whereupon Dorothea went away in a sulk." Here Sidonia laughed outright too; but soon said with grave decorum, "Quite right. The excellent Dorothea was a treasure above all treasures for the convent. Ah, such chastity and virtue were rarely to be met with in this wicked world." Now Anna Apenborg had hardly turned her back, to go and chatter all this back again to the sub-prioress, when Sidonia proceeded to tap some of her beer, and called the convent porter to her, Matthias Winterfeld, bidding him carry it with her greetings to the chaplain, David Ludeck. (For her own maid, Wolde, was lame, ever since the racking she got at Wolgast. So Sidonia was in the habit of sending the porter all her messages, much to his annoyance.) When he came now he was in his shirt-sleeves, at which Sidonia was wroth--"What did he mean by going about the convent in shirt-sleeves? Never let him appear before her eyes in such unseemly trim. And was this a time even for shirt-sleeves, when they were in the month of November? But winter or summer, he must never appear so," Hereupon the fellow excused himself. He was killing geese for some of the nuns, and had just put off his coat, not to have it spoiled by the down; but she is nothing mollified--scolds him still, so the fellow makes off without another word, fearing he might get a touch of the rheumatism, like the abbess and his worship the sheriff, and carries the beer-can to the reverend chaplain; from whom he soon brings back "his grateful acknowledgments to the Lady Sidonia." Two days now passed over, but on the third morning Anna Apenborg trotted into the refectory full of news. She was quite tired from her journey yesterday; for the snow was deep on the roads, but to pleasure sister Sidonia (and besides, as it was a matter that concerned the honour of the convent) she had set off to Jacobshagen, though indeed the snow lay ankle-deep. However, she was well repaid, and had heard all she wanted; oh, there was great news! _Illa_.--"Quick! what? how? why? Remember it is for the honour and reputation of the entire convent." _Hæc_.--"She had first gone to one person, who pretended not to know anything at all of the matter; but then another person had told her the whole story--under the seal of the strictest secrecy, however." _Illa_.--"What is it? what is it? How she went on chattering of nothing." _Hæc_.--"But will the dear sister promise not to breathe it to mortal? She would be ruined with her best friend otherwise." _Illa_.--"Nonsense, girl; who could I repeat it to? Come, out with it!" So Anna began, in a very long-winded manner, to explain how the burgomaster's wife in Jacobshagen said that her maid said that Provost Bamberg's maid said, that while she was sweeping his study the other morning, she heard the provost's sister say to her brother in the adjoining room, that she could not bear the chaplain, David Ludeck, for he had been visiting there off and on for ever so long, and yet never had asked her the question. He was a faint-hearted coward evidently, and she hated faint-hearted men. Sidonia grew as red as a lire-beacon when she heard this, and walked up and down the apartment as if much perturbed, so that Anna asked if the dear sister were ill? "No," was the answer. "She was only thinking how best to get rid of this priest, and prevent him running in and out of the convent whenever he pleased. She must try and have an order issued, that he was only to visit the nuns when they were sick. This very day she would see about it. Could the good Anna tell her what the sheriff had for lunch to-day?" _Illa_.--"Ay, truly, could she; for the milk-girl, who had brought her some fresh milk, told her that he had got plenty of wild fowl, which the keeper had snared in the net; and there was to be a sweetbread besides. But what was the dear sister herself to eat?" _Hæc_.--"No matter--but did she not hear a great ringing of bells? What could the ringing be for?" _Illa_.--"That was a strange thing, truly. And there was no one dead, nor any child to be christened, that she had heard of. She would just run out and see, and bring the dear sister word." _Illa_.-"Well then, wait till evening, for it is near noon now, and I expect a guest to lunch." _Hæc_.--"Eh? a guest!--and who could it be?" _Illa_.--"Why, the chaplain himself. I want to arrange about his dismissal." So, hardly had she got rid of the chatterbox, when Sidonia called the porter, Matthias, and bid him greet the reverend chaplain from her, and say, that as she had somewhat to ask him concerning the investiture on Sunday, would he be her guest that day at dinner? She hoped to have some game with a sweetbread, and excellent beer to set before him. When the porter returned with the answer from his reverence, accepting the invitation, she sent him straight to the sheriff with a couple of covered dishes, and a message, begging his worship to send her half-a-dozen brace or so of game, for she heard that a great many had been taken in his nets; and a sweetbread, if he had it, for she had a guest to-day at dinner. So the dishes came back full--everything just ready to be served; for the cunning hag knew well that he dare not refuse her; and immediately afterwards the priest arrived to dinner. He was very friendly, but Sidonia caught him looking very suspiciously at a couple of brooms which she had laid crosswise under the table. So she observed, "I lay these brooms there, to preserve our dear mother and the sheriff from falling again into this sickness. It is part of the doctrine of sympathies, and I learned it out of my Herbal, as I can show you." Upon which she went to her trunk and got the book for the priest, whose fears diminished when he saw that it was _printed_; but he could not prevail on her to lend it to him. _Summa_.--The priest grew still more friendly over the good eating and drinking; and she, the old hypocrite, discoursed him the while about her heavenly bridegroom, and threw up her eyes and sighed, at the same time pressing his hand fervently. But the priest never minded it, for she was old enough to be his mother, and besides, he remembered the Scripture--"No man can call Jesus Lord, except through the Holy Ghost." So as her every third word was "Jesus," he looked upon her as a most discreet and pious Christian, and went away much satisfied by her and the good dinner. CHAPTER III. _Sidonia tries another way to catch the priest, but fails through a mistake--Item, of her horrible spell, whereby she bewitched the whole princely race of Pomerania, so that, to the grievous sorrow of their fatherland, they remain barren even unto this day._ [Footnote: Note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.--"Ay, and will to the last day, _vaeh mihi_."] As soon as the pious abbess was able to leave her bed, she sent for the priest, for she had strange suspicions about Sidonia, and asked the reverend clerk, if indeed her cure could have been effected by sympathy? and were it not rather some work of the bodily Satan himself? But my priest assured her concerning Sidonia's Christian faith; _item_, told, to the great wonderment of the abbess, that she no longer cared for the sub-prioret (we know why--she would sooner have the priest than the prioret), but was content to let Dorothea Stettin keep it or resign it, just as she pleased. After this, the investiture of Sidonia took place, and the priest blessed her at the altar, and admonished her to take as her model the wise virgins mentioned Matt. xxv. (but God knows, she had followed the foolish virgins up to that period, and never ceased doing so to the end of her days). Even on that very night, we shall see her conduct; for she bid her maid, Wolde, run and call up the convent porter, and despatch him instantly for the priest, saying that she was very ill, and he must come and pray with her. This excited no suspicion, since she herself had forbade the priest entering the convent, unless any of the sisters were sick. But Anna Apenborg slipped out of bed when she heard the noise, and watched from the windows for the porter's return. Then she tossed up the window, though the snow blew in all over her bed, and called out, "Well, what says he? will he come? will he come?" And when the fellow grunted in answer, "Yes, he's coming," she wrapped a garment round her, and set herself to watch, though her teeth were chattering from cold all the time. In due time the priest came, whereupon the curious virgin crept out of her garret, and down the stairs to a little window in the passage which looked in upon the refectory, and through which, in former times, provisions were sometimes handed in. There she could hear everything that passed. When the priest entered, Sidonia stretched out her meagre arms towards him, and thanked him for coming; would he sit down here on the bed, for there was no other seat in the room? she had much to tell him that was truly wonderful. But the priest remained standing: let her speak on. _Illa_.--"Ah! it concerned himself. She had dreamt a strange dream (God be thanked that it was not a reality), but it left her no peace. Three times she awoke, and three fell asleep and dreamt it again. At last she sent for him, for there might be danger in store for him, and she would turn it away if possible." _Hic_.--"It was strange, truly. What, then, had she dreamed?" _Illa_.--"It seemed to her that murderers had got up into his room through the window, and just as they were on the point of strangling him, she had appeared and put them to flight, whereupon--" (here she paused and sighed). _Hic _(in great agitation).--"Go on, for God's sake go on--what further?" _Illa_.--"Whereupon--ah! she must tell him now, since he forced her to do it. Whereupon, out of gratitude, he took her to be his wife, and they were married" (sighing, and holding both hands before her eyes). _Hic_ (clasping his hands).--"Merciful Heaven! how strange! I dreamt all that precisely myself." [Footnote: The power of producing particular dreams by volition, was recognised by the ancients and philosophers of the Middle Ages. _Ex._ Albertus Magnus relates (_De Mirabilibus Mundi_ 205) that horrible dreams can be produced by placing an ape's skin under the pillow. He also gives a receipt for making women tell their secrets in sleep (but this I shall keep to myself). Such phenomena are neither physiologically nor psychologically impossible, but our modern physiologists are content to take the mere poor form of nature, dissect it, anatomise it, and then bury it beneath the sand of their hypotheses. Thus, indeed, "the dead bury their dead," while all the strange, mysterious, inner powers of nature, which the philosophers of the Middle Ages, as Psellus, Albertus Magnus, Trithemius, Cardanus, Theophastus, &c., did so much to elucidate, are at once flippantly and ignorantly placed in the category of "Superstitions," "Absurdities," and "Artful Deceptions."] Upon which Sidonia cried out, "How can it be possible? Oh, it is the will of God, David--it is the will of God" (and she seized him by both hands). But the priest remained as cold as the snow outside, drew back his head, and said, "Ah! no doubt these absurdities about marriage came into my head because I had been thinking so much over our young Lord Philip of Wolgast, who was wedded to-day at Berlin." Sidonia started up at this, and screamed in rage and anger--"What! Duke Philip married to-day in Berlin? The accursed prioress told me the wedding was not to be for eight days after the next new moon." The priest now was more astonished at her manner than even at the coincidence of the dreams, and he started back from the bed. Whereupon, perceiving the mistake she had made, the horrible witch threw herself down again, and letting her head fall upon the pillow, murmured, "Oh! my head! my head! She must have locked up the moon in the cellar. How will the poor people see now by night?--why did the prioress lock up the moon? Oh! my head! my head!" Then she thanked the priest for coming--it was so good of him; but she was worse--much worse. "Ah! her head! her head! Better go now--but let him come again in the morning to see her." So the good priest believed in truth that the detestable hag was very ill, and evidently suffering from fever; so he went his way pitying her much, and without the least suspicion of her wicked purposes. Scarcely, however, had he closed the door, when Sidonia sprang like a cat from her bed, and called out, "Wolde, Wolde!" And as the old witch hobbled in with her lame leg, Sidonia raged and stamped, crying out, "The accursed abbess has lied to me. Ernest Ludovicus' brat was married to-day at Berlin. Oh! if I am too late now, as on his father's marriage, I shall hang myself in the laundry. Where is Chim--the good-for-nothing spirit?--he should have seen to this." And she dragged him out and beat him, while he quaked like a hare. Whereupon Wolde called out, "Bring the padlock from the trunk." The other answered, "What use now?--the bridal pair are long since wedded and asleep." To which the old witch replied, "No; it is twelve o'clock here, but in Berlin it wants a quarter to it yet. There is time. The Berlin brides never retire to their apartment till the clock strikes twelve. There is time still." "Then," exclaimed Sidonia, "since the devil cannot tell me on what day they hold bridal, I will make an end now of the whole accursed griffin brood, in all its relationships, branch and root, now and for evermore, in Wolgast as in Stettin; be they destroyed and rooted out for ever and for ever." Then she took the padlock, and murmured some words over it, of which Anna Apenborg could only catch the names, Philip, Francis, George, Ulrich, Bogislaff, who were all sons to Duke Bogislaff XIII., and, in truth, died each one without leaving an heir. And, during the incantation, the light trembled and burned dim upon the table, and the thing which she had beaten seemed to speak with a human voice, and the bells on the turret swung in the wind with a low sound, so that Anna fell on her knees from horror, and scarcely dared to breathe. Then the accursed sorceress gave the padlock and key to Wolde, bidding her go forth by night and fling it into the sea, repeating the words:-- "Hid deep in the sea Let my dark spell be, For ever, for ever! To rise up never!" Then Wolde asked, "Had she forgotten Duke Casimir?" Whereat Sidonia laughed and said, "The spell had long been on him." And immediately after, Anna Apenborg beheld _three_ shadows, in place of two, thrown upon the white wall opposite the little window. So she strengthened her heart to look in, and truly there was _another_ form present now. And the three danced together, and chanted strange rhymes, while the shadows on the wall danced up and down likewise. Then a deep bass voice called out, "Ha! there is Christian flesh here! Ha! there is Christian flesh!" Whereupon Anna, though nearly dead with fright, crept up to her garret on her knees, while loud laughter resounded behind her; and it seemed as if old pots were flung up the stairs after her. [Footnote: Note of Duke Bogislaff XIV.--Incredibile sane, et tamen verum. Cur, mi Deus?--(It seems impossible, and yet how true. Wherefore, my God?) The spell by knotting the girdle is noticed by Virgil, 8th eclogue: "Necte tribus nodis ternos Amarylli colores; Necte Amarylli modo, et Veneris die vincula necto." [In three knots Amaryllis weaves three different colours; Amaryllis knots and says: I knot the girdle of Venus.] The use of the padlock is not mentioned until the Middle Ages, when it seems to have been so much employed that severe ordinances were directed against its use.] For the rest of that night she could not close her eyes. Next morning, one can easily imagine with what eagerness she hurried to the abbess, to relate the past night's horrible tale. Sidonia likewise is astir early, for by daybreak she despatched her old lame Wolde to the chaplain (the porter was not up yet) with a can of beer for his great trouble the night before, and trusted it would strengthen his heart. In this beer she had poured her detestable love-philtrum, to awaken a passion for herself in the breast of the reverend David, but it turned out quite otherwise, and ended after the most ludicrous fashion, no doubt all owing to the malice of the spirit Chim, in revenge for the blows she had given him the night previous; for, behold, as soon as the priest had swallowed a right good draught of beer, he began to stare at the old hag and murmur; then he passed his hand over his eyes, and motioned her to remain. Again he looked at her--twice, thrice--put some silver into her hand, and at last spake--"Ah! Wolde, what a beautiful creature you are! Where have my eyes been, that I never discovered this before?" The cunning hag saw now plainly what the drink had done, and which way the wind blew. So she sat herself down simpering, by the stove, and my priest crept up close beside her; he took her hand--"Ah! how fat and plump it was--such a beautiful hand." But the old hag drew it back, saying, "Let me go, Mr. David!" To which he answered, "Yes, go, my treasure! I love to see you walk! What an exquisite limp! How stupid are men nowadays not to see all the beauty of a limp! Ah! Venus knew it well, and therefore chose Vulcan, for he, too, limped like my Wolde. Give me a kiss then, loveliest of women! Ah! what enchanting snow-white hair, like the purest silver, has my treasure on her head." No wonder the old lame hag was tickled with the commendations, for, in all the sixty years of her life, she never had heard the like before. But she played the prude, and pushed away the priest with her hand, just as, by good fortune, a messenger from the abbess knocked at the door, with a request that the chaplain would come to the good mother without delay. So the old hag went away with the maid of the abbess, and the priest stopped to dress himself more decently. But in some time the abbess, who was on the watch, saw him striding past her door; so she opened the window and called out to know "Where was he going? Had he forgotten that she lived there?" To which he answered, "He must first visit Sidonia." At this the worthy matron stared at him in horror; but my priest went on; and as he cared more for the maid than the mistress now, ran at once into the kitchen, without waiting to see Sidonia in the refectory; and seizing hold of Wolde, whispered, "That she must give him the kiss now--she need not be such a prude, for he had no wife. And what beautiful hair! Never in his life had he seen such beautiful white hair!" But the old hag still resisted; and in the struggle a stool, on which lay a pot, was thrown down. Sidonia rushed in at the noise; and behold! there was my priest holding Wolde by the hand. She nearly fainted at the sight. What was he doing with her maid? Then seizing a heavy log of wood, she began to lay it on Wolde's shoulders, who screamed and roared, while my priest slunk away ashamed, without a word; and as he ran down the steps, heard the blows and the screams still resounding from the kitchen. As he passed the door of the abbess's room, again she called him in; but as he entered, she exclaimed in terror, "My God, what ails your reverence? You look as black and red in the face as if you had had a fit, and had grown ten years older in one night!" "Nothing ails me," he answered; then sighed, and walked up and down the room, murmuring, "What is the world to me? Why should I care what the world thinks?" Then falls flat on the ground as if he were dead, while the good abbess screams and calls for help. In runs Anna Apenborg--_item_, several other sisters with their maids, and they stretch the priest out upon a bench near the stove, where he soon begins to foam at the mouth, and throw up all the beer, with the love-philtrum therein, which he had drunk (Sidonia's power effected this, no doubt, since she saw how matters stood). Then he heaved a deep sigh, opened his eyes, and asked, "Where am I?" Whereupon, finding that his reason and clear understanding had been restored to him, he requested the sisterhood to depart (for they had all rushed in to hear what was going on) and leave him alone with the abbess, as he had matter of grave import to discuss with her. Whereupon they all went out, except Anna Apenborg, who said that she, too, had matter of grave import to relate. So finding she would not stir, the priest took her by the hand, and put her out at the door along with the others. Now when they were both left alone, we can easily imagine the subject of their conversation. The poor priest made his confession, concealing nothing, only lamenting bitterly how he had disgraced his holy calling; but he had felt like one in a dream, or under some influence which he could not shake off. In return, the abbess told him of the horrible scene witnessed by Anna Apenborg the night before; upon which they both agreed that no more accursed witch and sorceress was in the world than their poor cloister held at that moment. Finally, putting all the circumstances together, the reverend David began to perceive what designs Sidonia had upon him, particularly when he heard of Anna Apenborg's visit to Jacobshagen, and the news which she had brought back from thence. So to destroy all hope at once in the accursed sorceress, and save himself from further importunity and persecution on her part, he resolved to offer his hand the very next day to Barbara Bamberg, for, in truth, he had long had an eye of Christian love upon the maiden, who was pious and discreet, and just suited to be a pastor's wife. Then they agreed to send for the sheriff, and impart the whole matter to him, he being cloister superintendent; but his answer was, "Let them go to him, if they wanted to speak to him; for, as to him, he would never enter the convent again--his poor body had suffered too much there the last time." Whereupon they went to him; but he could give no counsel, only to leave the matter in the hands of God the Lord; for if they appealed to the Prince, the sorceress would surely bewitch them again, and they would be screaming day and night, or maybe die at once, and then what help for them, &c. Sidonia meanwhile was not idle; for she sent messages throughout the whole convent that she lay in her bed sick unto death, and they must needs come and pray with her, along with the priest, before they assembled in the chapel for service. At this open blasphemy and hypocrisy, a great fear and horror fell upon the abbess, likewise upon the priest, since the witch had specially named him, and desired that he would come _before_ service to pray with her. For a long while he hesitated, at last promised to visit her _after_ service; but again bethought himself that it would be more advisable to visit her before, for he might possibly succeed in unveiling all her iniquities, or if not, he could pray afterwards in the church, "that if indeed Sidonia were really sick, and a child of God, the just and merciful Father would raise her up and strengthen her in her weakness; but if she were practising deceit, and were no child of God, but an accursed limb of Satan, then he would give her up into the hands of God for punishment, for had He not said, 'Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord'? (Romans xii. 19.)" This pleased the abbess, and forthwith the reverend David proceeded to the refectory. Now Sidonia had not expected him so early, and she was up and dressed, busily brewing another hellish drink to have ready for him by the time he arrived; but when his step sounded in the passage, she whipped into bed and covered herself up with the clothes, not so entirely, however, but that a long tail of her black robe fell outside from under the white sheet--this, unluckily for herself, she knew nothing of. The priest, however, saw it plainly, and had, moreover, heard the jump she gave into bed just as he opened the door; but he made no remark, only greeted her as usual, and asked what she wanted with him. _Illa.--"Ah! she was sick, sick unto death--would he not pray for her? for the night before she was too ill to pray, and no doubt the Lord was angry with her, by reason of the omission. This morning, indeed, she had crept out of bed, just to scold her awkward maid for breaking all the pots and pans, as he himself saw, but had to go to bed again, and was growing weaker and weaker every quarter of an hour. But the good priest must taste her beer; let him drink a can of it first to strengthen his heart. It was the best beer she had made yet, and her maid had just tapped a fresh barrel." Here the reverend David made answer--"He thanked her for her beer, but would drink none. He could not believe, either, that she was as ill as she said, and had been lying in bed all the morning." But she persisted so vehemently in her falsehoods that the very boards under her must have felt ashamed, if they had possessed any consciousness. Whereupon the priest shuddered in horror and disgust, bent down silently, and lifted up the piece of her robe which lay outside. "What did this mean? did she wear her nun's dress in bed? or was she not rather making a mock of him, and the whole convent, by her pretended sickness?" Here Sidonia grew red with shame and wrath; but, ere she could utter a word, the priest continued with a holy and righteous anger-- "Woe to thee, Sidonia! for thou art a byword amongst the people. Woe to thee, Sidonia! for thou hast passed thy youth in wantonness and thy old age in sin. Woe to thee, Sidonia! for thy hellish arts brought thy mother the abbess, and thy father the superintendent, nearly to their graves. Woe to thee, Sidonia! for this past night thou hast taken a horrible revenge upon the whole princely race, and cursed them by the power which the devil gives thee. Woe to thee, Sidonia! for by thy hellish drink thou didst seek to destroy me, the servant of the living God, to thy horrible maid still more horribly attracting me. Woe to thee, Sidonia! accursed witch and sorceress, blasphemer of God and man! Behold, thy God liveth, and thy Prince liveth, and they will rain fire and brimstone upon thy infamous head. Woe to thee! woe to thee! woe to thee! thou false serpent--thou accursed above all the generations of vipers--how wilt thou escape eternal damnation?" When the righteous priest of God had ended his fearful malediction, he started at himself, for he knew not how the words had come into his mouth; then turned from the bed and went out, while a peal of laughter followed him from the room. But no evil happened to him at that time, as he had fully expected, from Sidonia (probably she feared to exasperate the convent and the Prince against her too much); but she treasured up her vengeance to another opportunity, as we shall hear further on. END OF VOL. I. 
36312	----	produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive.) WITCHCRAFT OF NEW ENGLAND EXPLAINED BY MODERN SPIRITUALISM. BY ALLEN PUTNAM, ESQ., AUTHOR OF "BIBLE MARVEL WORKERS," "NATTY, A SPIRIT," "MESMERISM, SPIRITUALISM, WITCHCRAFT, AND MIRACLE," "AGASSIZ AND SPIRITUALISM," ETC. SECOND EDITION. BOSTON: COLBY AND RICH, PUBLISHERS, 9 MONTGOMERY PLACE. 1881. COPYRIGHT, 1880, BY ALLEN PUTNAM, ESQ. Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, No. 4 Pearl Street. CONTENTS. Preface, page 9.--References, 14.--Explanatory Note--Definitions, 15. MATHER AND CALEF, 25.--Account of Margaret Rule, 26.--Definitions of Witchcraft, 29.--Commission of the Devil, 30.--Margaret assaulted by Specters, 31.--Offered a Book, and pinched, 33.--Fasted, and perceived a Man liable to drown, 34.--Lifted, and saw a White Spirit, 35.--Rubbed by Mather, 37.--Visited by Spies, 39.--Prayed with, and Brimstone was smelt, 40.--Fowler charges Delirium Tremens, 41.--Affidavit of Avis, 44.--Calef baffled, 46.--Levitation of R. H. Squires, 46. COTTON MATHER, 52.--Haven's Account of Mercy Short, 71. ROBERT CALEF, 73. THOMAS HUTCHINSON, 76. C. W. UPHAM, 80. MARGARET JONES, 85.--Winthrop's Account of her, 87.--Hutchinson's and Upham's, 88.--Our own, 89.--J. W. Crosby's Experience, 94.--Spirit of Prophecy, 99.--Spirit Child, 100.--Materialization, 102.--Newburyport Spirit Boy, 103.--Why Margaret was executed, 109.--Erroneous faith, 114.--Margaret's Case isolated, 119.--Epitaph, 121. ANN HIBBINS, 122.--Beach's Letter, 123.--Hutchinson's Account of Ann, 124.--Upham's, 126.--Her Will, 128.--Her Wit, 131.--Densmore's Inner Hearing, 135.--Guessing, 138.--Her Social Position, 140.--Slandered, 130, 142.--Her Intuitive Powers, 143.--Her Illumination, 146. ANN COLE, 147.--Hutchinson's Account, 147.--Whiting's, 148.--The Greensmiths, 153.--Representative Experiences, 154. ELIZABETH KNAP, 157.--How affected, 158.--Long accustomed to see Spirits, 160.--Accused Mr. Willard, 162.--A Case of Spiritualism. MORSE FAMILY, 167.--Physical Manifestations, 168.--The Sailor Boy, 169.--Caleb Powell, 170.--Hazzard's Account of Read, 172.--Mather's Account of John Stiles, 175.--Mrs. Morse accused, 178.--Hale's Report, 182.--Morse's Testimony, 184.--2d do., 187.--His Character, 190.--Faults of Historians, 193.--Marvels in Essex County, 197.--Eliakim Phelps, 198. GOODWIN FAMILY, 199.--Hutchinson's Account, 201.--Character of the Children, 207.--Wild Irish Woman, 210.--Philip Smith's Case, 211.--Upham's Account, 213.--Spirit Loss of Earth Language, 216.--Mather flattered, 217.--The Girl's Weight triplicated, 219.--Mather's Person shielded, 221.--Upham's Conclusion incredible, 223.--Hutchinson nonplused, 224.--Justice to the Devil, 227. Summary, 229. SALEM WITCHCRAFT, 231.--Occurred at Danvers, 231.--Circle of Girls, 233.--Their Lack of Education, 235.--Obstacles to their Meeting, 236.--Mediumistic Capabilities, 239.--Parsonage Kitchen, 240.--Fits stopped by Whipping, 242.--Upham's Lack of Knowledge, 243.--Hare's Demonstration, 245.--Upham's Lament and Warnings, 246.--Nothing Supernatural, 249.--Varley's Position, 252.--The Afflicted knew their Afflicters, 254.--Names of the Afflicted, 257.--Mr. Parris's Account of Witchcraft Advent, 259.--What occurred, 260.--Lawson's Account, 261.--The Bewitching Cake, 262.--John Indian and Tituba, 263.--Tituba Participator and Witness, 267. TITUBA, 271.--Examination of her, 271-297.--Summary of her Statements, 298.--Discrepancies between Cheever and Corwin, 301.--Dates fixed by Corwin, 303.--Tituba's Authority as Expounder, 308.--Calef's Notice of her, 309.--Her Confession, 312.--Her Unhappy Fate, 313. SARAH GOOD, 313.--Why visible apparitionally, 314.--Her Examination, 315.--Mesmeric Force, 318.--Persons absent in Form afflict, 320.--Only Clairvoyance sees Spirits, 323.--Its Fitfulness, 324.--A Witch because not bewitchable, 325.--Her Invisibility, 325.--H. B. Storer's Account of Mrs. Compton, 326.--Ann Putnam's Deposition, 331.--S. Good's Prophetic Glimpse, 335. DORCAS GOOD, 335.--Bites with Spirit Teeth, 336.--State of Opinion admitting her Arrest, 338.--Upham's Presentation of Public Excitement, 339.--Lovely Witches now, 342. SARAH OSBURN, 342.--Was seen spectrally, 343.--Heard a Voice, 345. MARTHA COREY, 347.--Her Character.--Visited by Putnam and Cheever, 348.--Foresensed their Visit, 348.--Laughed when on Trial, 352.--Calef and Upham's Account of her, 353.--Her Prayer, 354. GILES COREY, 354.--Refused to plead, 355.--Was pressed to Death, 356.--His Heroism, 357. REBECCA NURSE, 358.--Was seen as an Apparition, 358.--Her Mother a Witch, 360.--Had Fits, 361.--Confusion at her Trial, 362.--The Power of Will, 363.--Elizabeth Parris, 364.--Agassiz, 365.--Not guilty, and then guilty, 367. MARY EASTY, 367.--Her Examination, 368.--The Character of her Trial, 370.--Her Petition, 371.--Last Hour, 373. SUSANNA MARTIN, 373.--Her Examination, 374.--The Devil took Samuel's Shape, 374.--R. P.'s Position, 375.--Her Apparition gave Annoyance, 377. MARTHA CARRIER, 378.--Examination of, 378.--Her Children Witches, how they afflicted, and their Confessions, 381. GEORGE BURROUGHS, 390.--Indictment of, 391.--Opinions concerning him, 392.--Apparitions of his Wives, 394.--His Liftings, 399.--The Devil an Indian, 402.--Thought-reading, 405.--His Susceptibilities and Character, 406. SUMMARY, 408.--Number executed, 412.--Spirits proved to have been Enactors of Witchcraft, 414. THE CONFESSORS, 415. THE ACCUSING GIRLS, 420.--Ann Putnam's Confession, 420. THE PROSECUTORS, 425. WITCHCRAFT'S AUTHOR, 428. THE MOTIVE, 432. LOCAL AND PERSONAL, 445. METHODS OF PROVIDENCE, 451. APPENDIX. CHRISTENDOM'S WITCHCRAFT DEVIL, 459. LIMITATIONS OF HIS POWERS, 464. COVENANT WITH HIM, 466. HIS DEFENCE, 467. DEMONOLOGY AND NECROMANCY, 468. BIBLICAL WITCH AND WITCHCRAFT, 470. CHRISTENDOM'S WITCH AND WITCHCRAFT, 471. SPIRIT, SOUL, AND MENTAL POWERS, 472. TWO SETS OF MENTAL POWERS--AGASSIZ, 476. MARVEL AND SPIRITUALISM, 478. INDIAN WORSHIP, 480. PREFACE. "The nobler tendency of culture--and, above all, of scientific culture--is to honor the dead without groveling before them; to profit by the past without sacrificing it to the present."--EDWARD B. TYLOR, _Primitive Culture_. Most history of New England witchcraft written since 1760 has dishonored the dead by lavish imputations of imposture, fraud, malice, credulity, and infatuation; has been sacrificing past acts, motives, and character to skepticism regarding the sagacity and manliness of the fathers, the guilelessness of their daughters, and the truth of ancient records. Transmitted accounts of certain phenomena have been disparaged, seemingly because facts alleged therein baffle solution by to-day's prevalent philosophy, which discards some agents and forces that were active of old. The legitimate tendency of culture has been reversed; what it should have availed itself of and honored, it has busied itself in hiding and traducing. An exception among writers alluded to is the author of the following extract, who, simply as an historian, and not as an advocate of any particular theory for the solution of witchcraft, seems ready to let its works be ascribed to competent agents. "So far as a presentation of facts is concerned, no account of the dreadful tragedy has appeared which is more accurate and truthful than Governor Hutchinson's narrative. His theory on the subject--that it was wholly the result of fraud and deception on the part of the afflicted children--will not be generally accepted at the present day, and his reasoning on that point will not be deemed conclusive.... There is a tendency to trace an analogy between the phenomena then exhibited and modern spiritual manifestations."--W. F. POOLE, _Geneal. and Antiq. Register, October, 1870._ While composing the following work, its writer was borne onward by the tendency which Poole named. Survey of the field of marvels has been far short of exhaustive--his purpose made no demand for very extended researches. Selected cases, representative of the general manifestations and subject treated of were enough. The aim has been to find in ancient records, and thence adduce, statements and meanings long resting unobserved beneath the gathered dust of more than a hundred years, and therefore practically lost. The course of search led attention beyond overt acts, to inspection of some natural germs and their legitimately resultant development into creeds, which impelled good men on to the enactment of direful tragedy. Examination of the basement walls--the foundations--of prevalent popular explanation of ancient wonders, forces conviction that they lack both the breadth and the materials needful to stability. Modern builders of witchcraft history have either failed to find, or have deemed unmanageable by any appliances at their command, and therefore would not attempt to handle, a vast amount of sound historic stones which are accessible and can be used. Lacking them, these moderns have let fancy manufacture for them, and they have builded upon blocks of her fragile stuff which are fast disintegrating under the chemical action of the world's common sense. We proposed here an incipient step towards refutation of the sufficiency and justness of a main theory, now long prevalent, for explaining satisfactorily very many well-proved marvelous facts. Some such have been presented on the pages of Hutchinson, Upham, and their followers; and yet these have been either not at all, or vaguely or ludicrously, commented upon, or reasoned from. Very many others, and the most important of all as bases and aids to an acceptable and true solution of the whole, are not visible where they ought to have conspicuous position. Presentation and proper use of them might have caused public cognizance to topple over the edifices which it has pleased modern builders to erect. It is not our purpose to write history, but to give new explanation of old events. The long and widely tolerated theory that New England witchcraft was exclusively but out-workings of mundane fraud, imposture, cunning, trickery, malice, and the like, has never adequately met the reasonable demand of common sense, which always asks that specified agents and forces shall be probably competent to produce all such effects as are distinctly ascribed to them. Persons who of old were afflicted in manner that was then called bewitchment, and others through or from whom the afflictions were alleged to proceed, are now extensively supposed to have possessed organizations, temperaments, and properties which rendered them exceptionally pliant under subtile forces, either magnetic, mesmeric, or psychological, and who, consequently, at times, could be, and were, made ostensible utterers of knowledge whose marvelousness indicated mysterious source, and ostensible performers of acts deemed more than natural, and which, in fact, were the productions of wills not native in the manifesting forms. The special forces that produced bewitchment and are put in application now, do not become sensibly operative upon any other mortals than peculiar sensitives; and their action upon such is often most easily and effectively manifested through aid obtained from other similar sensitives. Selections of both subjects and instrumentalities were of old, and are now, controlled by general law. Steel needles and iron-filings are not selected by the magnet's free will when it forces them to leap up from their resting-places and cleave to itself. Seeming levitation possesses them, and an invisible force takes them whither gravitation, their usual holder, would not let them go. It is upon steel, not lead--upon iron, not stone--that the magnet can execute its marvelous liftings. Nature's conditions fix selections. The organizations, temperaments, fluids, solids, and all the various properties, are, to some extent, unlike in any two human bodies whatsoever, and the range of the differings and consequent susceptibilities is very wide. A psychological magnet in either the seen or unseen may have power to draw certain human forms to contact with itself, and to use them as its tools, and yet lack force to produce sensible effects upon but few in the mass of living men. Where its action is most efficient, it controls the movements of what it holds in its embrace--takes a human form out from control by the spirit which usually governs it, and through that form manifests its own powers and purposes. Both the reputed bewitched and bewitching may severally have had but little, if any, voluntary part in manifesting the remarkable phenomena that were imputed to them. Where physical organs are used, the public is prone to deem the performances intentional acts by those whose forms are operated, while yet the wills of those whose forms are visibly concerned in marvelous works may have been formerly, as they often now are, little else than unwilling, and in many cases unconscious tools. The afflicted--in other words, the bewitched ones--may have actually perceived,--they no doubt often did,--and also knew, that the annoyances and tortures they endured were augmented, if not generated, by emanations proceeding forth from the particular persons whom they named as being their afflicters; and these afflicters may have been all unconscious that their own auras were going forth and acting upon the sufferers. The chief non-intelligent instrumentality employed in producing miraculous, spiritualistic, necromantic, and other kindred marvels, is now generally called psychological force--force resident in and put forth from and by the soul--from and by the will and emotional parts of a living being; it is the force by which some men control with magic power not only many animals in the lower orders, but some susceptible members of their own species; it is a force deep-seated in our being, and may accompany man when he leaves his outer body, and continue to be his in an existence beyond the present. The usurping capabilities of this force were strikingly set forth by the illustrious Agassiz in his carefully written account of his own sensations and condition while in a mesmeric trance induced upon him by Rev. Chauncy Hare Townshend. The great naturalist--the strong man both mentally and physically--says that he lost all power to use his own limbs--all power to even _will_ to move them, and that his body was forced against his own strongest possible opposition to pace the room in obedience to the mesmerizer's will. Since such force overcame the strongest possible resistance of the gigantic Agassiz, it is surely credible that less robust ones, in any and every age, may have been subdued and actuated by it.--See page 385, in _Facts of Mesmerism, 2d Ed. London, 1844, by Rev. Chauncy Hare Townshend_. Those who were accused of bewitching others were fountains from which invisible intelligences sometimes drew forth properties which aided them in gaining and keeping control of those whom they entranced or otherwise used. Also from such there probably sometimes went forth unwilled emanations that were naturally attracted to other sensitives, who perceived their source, and pronounced it diabolical, because the influx thence was annoying. Impersonal natural forces to some extent, and at times, probably designated the victims who were immolated on witchcraft's altar. Citations of evidences and proofs from early historic records, that other agents and forces had chief part in producing New England witchcraft than such as modern historians generally have recognized, together with exposition of legitimate and forceful biases proceeding from articles in old-time creeds, will exhibit our forefathers in much better aspects than they wear in intervening history; will halo in innocence some of their wives and daughters, around whom historians have cast hues appropriate only to most villainous culprits; and also will manifest sadly misleading oversights, short-comings, and sophistries by some whose writings have done much in forming the world's existing erroneous and harsh views and estimates. Certain operative, world-wide, and daily occurrences in the present age, unaccounted for, and often sneered at, by adepts in prevalent sciences and philosophies, seem to have fair claims for general, candid, and most rigid scrutiny. Even if despised and contemned of men, they nevertheless are widely and most efficiently working for the world's good or for its harm. Testimony to their positive existence is vast in amount, and much of it comes from witnesses whose words upon any ordinary matters would be absolutely conclusive. Something more than twenty-five years ago, mysterious raps on cottage walls and furniture were traced to cause which, while invisible and impalpable, could count TEN. A trifle, was that? No; for its teachings and influences have gone forth widely, and have worked efficiently. They have broadened nature's domain as conceived of by man, have opened up to him new fields of study, and have furnished him with a vast amount of new views and speculations, which are permeating creeds, philosophies, sciences, explanations of history, and most things appertaining to the welfare of civilized society. Well may they have thus efficiently operated, for they have claimed to be, and their potency indicates that they have been, moved onward by forces greater than pertain to incarnate men. Raps by invisible rappers; liftings of tables, pianos, &c., by invisible lifters; music flowing forth from pianos, harmonicons, and other instruments having no visible manipulators; pencils writing legibly, instructively, eloquently, when no visible hand held and moved them; levitations of tables and human forms; transfer of books and other objects from one side of rooms to the opposite by invisible carriers; hands of flesh grasping and holding live coals of fire with impunity; raisings of human forms from floor to ceiling overhead, and holding them there by invisible beings; impressions of recognized likenesses of departed mortals upon the plates of photographists; presentation of moving and palpable hands and arms where no body is present for their attachment; materialization of entire forms of the departed, and the speaking and moving of the re-clad ones so exactly as in life as to be distinctly and unmistakably recognized by their surviving relatives and familiar acquaintances;--these phenomena, and many others kindred to them, admit of being, and we ask that they may be, viewed apart from any and all verbal or written communications by spirits, and apart from the character, standing, and habits of spiritualists. Such presentations as have just been specified may be looked upon as a class by themselves, and as being worthy the attention and closest scrutiny of devotees to the physical sciences and all logical minds. Even though they have emerged into view from a modern Nazareth, the obscurity of their place of issuance is not conclusive against their virtue to enlighten man, and broaden the extent of human knowledge. When, in days to come, some abler and more polished pen shall apply, in the solution of witchcraft marvels, a theory that shall be based on the classes of agents, forces, &c., which are now evolving modern marvels, its fitness and adequacy will attract wide attention, and command general acceptance. Our work, of course, will fall far short of such results, for he who here writes possesses no commanding powers,--never had much taste for historical and antiquarian researches,--has for many years last past found himself much, very much, more prone to be seeking for mental and moral wealth in oncoming than in receded times,--possesses only moderate skill and less than moderate facility in literary composition,--has spent the greater part of adult life in pursuits which debarred him not only from much perusal of books either historical, literary, or scientific, but also from much converse with well-cultured society. Therefore, necessarily, his whitened locks and waning forces find him consciously deficient in nearly every qualification for either a good historian or good expounder and applier of any theory pertaining to profound and intricate subjects involving occult agents and forces. Then why write? Perhaps vanity is strong among our motives. Nearly as far back as memory can take us, we heard from a grandfather's lips accounts of what his grandfather and others did and suffered when witchcraft raged in our native parish, and threatened trouble to those occupying the house in which we were born and reared. From boyhood onward the subject has never been new to us. We received an early impression, and since have ever felt, that works more than mortals could perform had transpired there. But who the workers could have been was long a doleful mystery. Their doings made them far from pleasant objects of contemplation. In common with most other natives of the place, we formerly were very willing that the dark matter should slumber in obscurity--were indisposed to draw attention to its aspects and character. But not so in later years. Most people on the spot, however, now are probably averse to its consideration. Less than three years ago, a parish committee of arrangements were very solicitous that this dismal subject should receive very little notice at their bi-centennial celebration. Their wishes and ours differed widely. What courtesy withheld them from forbidding, courtesy withheld us from doing extensively. We just opened there; and now, in continuance, here say that we longed then, on the spot where he was born, to wash off from their most notorious child much black dye-stuff in which the world has dipped him, and let them look upon a fairer complexioned and more estimable personage than they have deemed that far-famed native. We are vain enough to hope, that, in this continuance of our speech, we shall adduce facts and views which will present Salem witchcraft in new and less dismal aspects, and dispel what seems to dwellers where it transpired a "cloud of darkness." Aside from vanity, we have been moved by definite desire to give both the people of Danvers and many others, opportunity to learn facts and truths as yet perceived by only a few, which give a character to the great witchcraft scene, vastly less disreputable to those concerned in it than does such as has been presented by prior expounders, and extensively accepted as plausible by the public. Teachings of spiritualism have luminated the places where witchcraft has been sent to slumber; and facts now come into view which reveal beneficent results where none but baneful ones have been apparent. Perhaps willingness to show that spiritualism has been an illumining force to us, and may be so to others, has place among our motives. Opportunities for studying spirit manifestations came in the writer's way more than twenty years since, and have been recurring quite steadily down to the present hour. Release, long ago, from cramping mill-horse rounds of professional life and thought, and consequent freedom to live and move relatively aloof from annoyances and fears which known or suspected attention to unpopular and tabooed matters is apt to bring, permitted him to be a more open, avowed, persistent, and studious observer of these marvelous works than could most other persons _comfortably_, who had spent early years in academic and collegiate halls. Unhampered by dread of slurs, innuendoes, hints, or growls from either parishioners, patients, or clients, he sought, found, and strove to use thoughtfully, critically, and religiously, extensive and many varied and often very favorable opportunities for estimating the force and value of alleged evidences and proofs that we, all of us, are ever living in the midst of agents, forces, conditions, faculties, powers, and susceptibilities, acting upon or residing in ourselves and our neighbors, which common observation and science have not generally recognized. Thus, as he judges, clews have been acquired to such knowledge as promises, in days not distant, to furnish not only a solution of ancient witchcraft that will stand the tests of time and common sense, but cause human physical science to bring within its embrace agents and forces which have heretofore escaped its recognition. The varied phenomena of spiritualism, witchcraft, and miracle are all _within_ nature. Modern spiritualism, fraught, and all alive, as it is, with evidences, and some sensible _proofs positive_, of a future life, is to-day more efficient in retaining faith among thinking men that a life beyond awaits them, than any and all other forces in operation, or that man can apply. Science--yes, an advanced _science_, based on observed, proved, and provable facts of spiritualism, ancient and modern--is the only power we see that can stay the hope-crushing inroads of the bald materialism which is now dogging the advancing steps of physical science and liberal culture throughout enlightened Christendom. Perception of strong indications, more than twenty years ago, that keen intelligence wielding strange power was evolving before human senses, raps, table-tippings, and the like,--which intelligence, if properly invoked and treated, might become one's helpful teacher,--induced the author to use as well as possible each occurring opportunity for increasing his acquaintance with the strange visitants, not doubting that in the end he should gain wherewith to instruct and benefit both himself and his fellow-men, enough, and more than enough, to richly compensate for whatever loss of caste, favor, or reputation his course might occasion. During his well-meant, protracted, and reverential searchings along the faintly twilighted borders of spirit-land, ever and anon he has been catching glimpses of laws, forces, conditions, and agents, which earth-born beings--the embodied and the disembodied--can, and limitedly now do, conjointly use for reciprocal communings, and for mutual helps toward improvement, elevation, and bliss--for social, intellectual, moral, and religious growth. He means _mutual_; for those who have escaped from the flesh are helped by intercommunings with mortals. The reward is ample. His immediate topic is only witchcraft; but light which he seeks to make bear on that, penetrates below all perceptible phenomena, down to the question which underlies all others pertaining to man's highest interest, viz., Does _animism exist_? Or, in other words, is there in nature, or in God, or anywhere, an animating principle, which, having had individualizing connection with an organized material form, will retain its consciousness and individuality after that connection shall have been dissolved? Who but visible or audible spirits, proving themselves to be such, can give decisive response to that momentous question? Who but they can stop the advance of and effectually cripple that growing materialistic faith which laughs at and tramples over everything save _demonstration_,--demonstration either scientific or sensible,--but is at once and permanently palsied when it encounters that? Man knows of none else who can. The world as yet is little conscious of the real nature, power, and worth of spiritualism, or of its own need of help obtainable from no other perceptible source. Therein lies enfolded not only charity and justice for our remoter fathers, and correction for later commentators upon them, which may be brought forth and applied in the present work, but also PROOFS of man's survival beyond the tomb. Threescore years and twelve are saying, Spend no more time in general preparation for your labors, because dangers yearly thicken that your perishing outer man must forever leave undone what it fails to accomplish soon. Your future "footprints on the sands of time" will be but few; therefore now start in right direction, and, as best you can, mark the path you travel, and thus give some guidance to future wayfarers journeying toward the goal at which you aim, but lack power to reach. ALLEN PUTNAM. BOSTON, 426 Dudley Street REFERENCES. The principal works quoted from and referred to in the following pages, are-- SALEM WITCHCRAFT, edited by S. P. Fowler, of Danvers; H. P. Ives and A. A. Smith, Salem, 1861. This furnished the citations from Calef, and most of those from Cotton Mather. References are to this edition. HUTCHINSON'S HISTORY OF MASSACHUSETTS. Boston edition 1764 and 1767. UPHAM'S HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT AND SALEM VILLAGE. Boston, Wiggin & Lunt, 1867. WOODWARD'S HISTORICAL SERIES, embracing Annals of Witchcraft in New England by Samuel G. Drake, furnished the citations from Drake. NEW ENGLAND GENEALOGICAL AND ANTIQUARIAN REGISTER, October, 1870, p. 381, was the source of extracts from W. F. Poole. EXPLANATORY NOTE. A subject mysterious as ours will need for its ready comprehension some general knowledge of the imputed attributes and doings of witchcraft's special DEVIL, and of supposed aids and hindrances to his getting access to the visible world; also of demonology and necromancy, of biblical witch and witchcraft, of Protestant Christendom's witch and witchcraft, of spirit, soul, and mental powers, of miracle, spiritualism, Indian worship, and the like. Therefore we wrote out brief dissertations upon those subjects, with a view to have them constitute an opening chapter. But they are somewhat dry, and would, perhaps, keep many readers back from less thought-taxing pages longer than their pleasure will permit. Therefore we postpone presentation of what usually is placed in front, at the same time advising each one who desires to read this work as advantageously as possible, to turn first to our Appendix. In form of definitions, at the close of the dissertations, we placed a summary of some past conceptions, designing thus to indicate, compactly, special stand-points for explanation of witchcraft, on which some of our predecessors have severally taken position. We insert it here. DEFINITIONS. _Biblical._ DEVIL, or SATAN. Any opponent or antagonist, whether seen or unseen. WITCH. Employer of mysterious acquisitions in teaching _heresy_. WITCHCRAFT. Using mysterious acquisitions in teaching _heresy_. _By Cotton Mather._ DEVIL. Heaven-born, fallen, mighty, malignant; and yet _dependent on human help_ to act upon physical man or anything material. WITCH. A _covenanter_ with the devil. WITCHCRAFT. Helping or employing the devil to do harm--either. _By Robert Calef._ DEVIL. Heaven-born, fallen, mighty, malignant; but _independent of man_ in action upon this world. WITCH. Seducer of men from worship of God "_by any extraordinary sign_." WITCHCRAFT. "Maligning and impugning the word, work, or worship of God, and by any extraordinary sign seeking to seduce men from worship of Him." _By Thomas Hutchinson._ DEVIL. (None, as witchcraft enactor.) WITCH. (_By inference._) A woman possessing "a malignant touch," or "a crabbed temper," or being "a poor wretch" or "bed-ridden;" also, "a cunning child." WITCHCRAFT. Producing "pains," "nausea," &c. Scolding, playing tricks. _By C. W. Upham._ DEVIL. (Not specially concerned in witchcraft.) WITCH. (_By inference._) Subject acted upon by a girl or woman trained in a school for practice "in the wonders of necromancy, magic, and spiritualism." WITCHCRAFT. Suffering from the tricks and malicious purposes of girls schooled in magic. _By us._ DEVIL. (Not specially concerned.) WITCH. A medium or a human being whose body becomes at times the tool of some finite, disembodied, intelligent being, or whose mind senses knowledge in spirit land. WITCHCRAFT. The manifestation of supernal knowledge, force, and purposes through a borrowed or usurped mortal form; or the giving utterance to knowledge sensed in through one's spiritual organs of sense. Our purpose is to adduce strong evidences from the primitive records of American marvels, that lesser beings than the devil of Mather and Calef, and more powerful ones than the operators designated by Hutchinson and Upham, were actual performers of the principal manifestations that have been known as witchcrafts. Those whom we shall present were earth-born, on either this planet or some other, had previously passed out from encasements of flesh, but obtained control of and actuated physical forms belonging to embodied children, women, and men. Such beings, graduates from earths, are as varied in character and purposes as the survivors on their native planets, as varied as mortals are to-day. They may have ranged in character from dark devils up to bright angels, and have come, and gone, and operated by natural, though occult, forces and processes; they being as free to use such as we are the forces and implements of external nature. Many of our positions will be based upon psychological powers and susceptibilities which are far from being generally known to pertain to man; and we may fail to keep always within the bounds of things credible to-day, but yet shall never consciously go further than observed or credited facts will sustain us. If successful, we shall show that benighted man formerly, in good conscience, made certain events fearful curses, which, when rightly understood and used, may become gladdening and rich boons to mortals. WITCHCRAFT MARVEL-WORKERS. Brief notice of several authors to whom the present age is indebted for knowledge of most of the facts and beliefs which will be presented in the following pages, may be appropriate here. Their competency, traits, and circumstances, as inferred chiefly from their writings pertaining to witchcraft, are all, or nearly all, which we propose to state. Two of these who lived in witchcraft times, a third in an intervening century, and a fourth in our own age, viz., Cotton Mather, Robert Calef, Thomas Hutchinson, and Charles W. Upham, will severally be noticed, because their works have been specially instructive and suggestive, and have had very much influence in shaping public opinions and conclusions in reference to the mysterious matters under consideration. Each of the above-named authors either lacked, or failed to use, some light which is now available for disclosing contents in vailed recesses of nature--light beginning to shine in where darkness long brooded, and to elicit thence such knowledge as promises to show that the theories of most witchcraft expounders have been such as now may be, and should be, superseded by more broad, sound, and philosophical ones. The writings of the first two named above are eminently important, because they disclose very distinctly many highly operative beliefs and methods which were prevalent when marked witchcraft phenomena were actually transpiring, but are obsolete now. We cannot, perhaps, do better than forthwith present those two combatants, Mather and Calef, in actual conflict over the last described case of seventeenth century obsession. Out of this case came open conflict, in the very days when such marvels were living occurrences. Further on we may notice these two men, _as men_, more particularly. Here we take them as contestants about phenomena attendant upon Margaret Rule in 1693; hers, the last of our cases to occur, will come first under our inspection. Our quotations will be mostly from the earlier pages of "SALEM WITCHCRAFT," edited by S. P. Fowler. MATHER AND CALEF. In 1693, Mather wrote an account of afflictions which Margaret Rule, of Boston, then about seventeen years old, began to endure on the 10th of September of that year. This production drew forth the first open shot at the then prevalent definitions of witchcraft--at the assumed source of power to produce it--at the adopted methods of proceedings against it, and at treatment of persons on whom that crime was charged. Robert Calef, called a merchant of the town, either listened to statements or received written ones, made by other persons who had been present with Mather around this afflicted girl at her home during some scenes which the latter had described, or he was himself a witness there. From data early obtained he furnished a version of the case which disparaged the minister's account, and questioned the propriety of some of his proceedings. Calef's was in itself a rather meager production, not putting forth the whole or even the main facts in the case, but indicating that in this, that, and the other particular, Mather had misstated or overstated, and that some of his own acts might be indelicate or improper. This production so incensed Mather that he openly pronounced Calef "the worst of liars," threatened him with prosecution for slander, and actually commenced legal proceedings against him. In a subsequent letter, September 29, Calef respectfully asked Mather for a personal interview in the presence of two witnesses, in order that they might discuss and explain. Mather intimated willingness to comply with the request, but dallied, till Calef, November 24, sent a second letter, in which, rising at once above the comparatively trifling question whether himself or Mather had furnished the more accurate and better report, he grappled with fundamental questions pertaining to the devil, witchcrafts, and possession, and set forth distinctly some points which, in his judgment, needed discussion then; for on them he dissented from Mather, and probably from a majority of the people amid whom he was living. In much of that letter, Calef, or whoever composed it, manifested discriminating intellect, clear perception of his points, firm will, together with strong desire and purpose to labor earnestly for acquisition of knowledge by which either to convince himself that his own positions were unsound, or to better qualify himself to reform some prevalent faiths and practices. The Bible was his magazine, and implements, weapons, or stores from any other source he deemed it unlawful to use for defining, detecting, or punishing witchcraft. Bowing to the Scriptures in unquestioning submission, he took them as guide and authority. In the outset, frankly and definitely stating his own belief, he, in an apparently manly way, sought manly discussion. He believed, page 62, that "there are _witches, because the Scriptures plainly provide for their punishment_." The only known definition of _witchcraft_ that to him seemed based upon and fairly deduced from the Scriptures, was "a maligning and oppugning the word, work, or worship of God, and, _by any extraordinary sign_, seeking to seduce from it." He believed "that there are possessions, and that the bodies of the possest have hence been not only _afflicted_, but _strangely agitated_, if not _their tongues improved_ to foretell futurities; and why not _to accuse the innocent_ as bewitching them? having _pretense to divination_ ... this being reasonable to be expected from _him who is the father of lies_." This witchcraft assailant, therefore, was a protestant not against belief that the father of lies sometimes _possessed, afflicted, and strangely agitated human beings, and also controlled their tongues to prophesy, to accuse the innocent, and to pretend divination_. His protest was against unscriptural definition of witchcraft, and against those kinds of evidence, rules, and methods used for its detection, proof, and punishment which made his age pronounce guilty and execute many who could not possibly be found guilty of that crime, where its scriptural definition was adhered to. He was not a disbeliever in witchcraft of some kind, nor of action upon men by some invisible intelligences in his own day. He and Mather both were believers in witchcraft outwrought by supernals, but differed as to what might or might not constitute it, and therefore, also, as to the extent of the prevalence of the genuine article. Calef seemingly believed in _possessions_,--that is, in control by spirits of some quality,--but was unwilling to concede that such control was _witchcraft_, as many people at that day did, though Mather may not have been one among them _abidingly_. The pith of Calef's definition of witchcraft was, _seduction of men from the worship of God by manifestation of extraordinary signs_; while Mather said, _covenanting with the devil made one a witch_, and co-operative action with _him_ in harming men constituted _witchcraft_. The former demanded evidences of seduction of men away _from worship of God_, while the other could rest on evidences of _visible harm to man_; therefore Mather found cases of witchcraft much more abundant than Calef was required to or would. Another practically important item on which they differed was the immediate source of the devil's power to act upon visible man and matter. Calef claimed that "it is _only the Almighty_ that ... can commissionate him to hurt or destroy any;" while Mather said, "I am apt to think that the devils are seldom able to hurt us in any of our exterior concerns without a commission _from our fellow-worms_.... Permission from God for the devil to come down and break in upon mankind must oftentimes be accompanied with a commission from _some of mankind itself_." Both of them conceded a commission by God to the devil. But we doubt whether his commission was ever more special than that which every created being, in either material or spiritual abodes, constitutionally holds at all times, to avail himself of whatever natural laws or forces his inherent powers and attending circumstances enable him to control. Words are often used which obscure proper, if not intended, meaning. Commission from God means no more than constitutional capabilities to perform at times certain specified things when conditions and circumstances favor command of natural forces. That special powers are often conferred upon mortals by some supernal beings whose recipients are prone to ascribe the gifts to _omnipotence_ is obviously true; though their increased abilities are only bestowments by finite invisibles. _What_ witchcraft was, and _who_ commissioned the devil, whether God alone or God and man jointly, were the two most prominent questions about which those contestants differed. They agreed that the devil enacted both witchcraft and possession, but Calef's beliefs necessarily caused him to regard vast many cases as only simple possession, which Mather could, if he saw fit, regard as witchcrafts; and he sometimes seemingly did, when called to act publicly in connection with them. Mather at home and Mather abroad were not always in harmony. Without designing, either here or subsequently, to make full presentation of the case of Margaret Rule, we shall freely adduce many parts of the record of it as helps in exhibiting leading positions and traits pertaining to the parties who crossed intellectual swords over them. Mather states, page 29, that "upon the Lord's day, September 10, 1693, Margaret Rule, after some hours of previous disturbance in the public assembly, fell into odd fits, which caused her friends to carry her home, where her fits, in a few hours, grew into a figure that satisfied the spectators of their being preternatural. A miserable woman who had been formerly imprisoned on the suspicion of witchcraft, and who had frequently cured very painful hurts, ... had, the evening before Margaret fell into her calamities, _very bitterly treated her, and threatened her_." That briefly antecedent treatment of her by a person who "had frequently cured very painful hurts," and therefore, and for other acts perhaps, been accused of witchcraft, is very important in its psychological indications, and is worthy of being borne along in the reader's memory. The wonderful _curing of painful hurts_--that is, her beneficence--had caused her imprisonment. "The young woman," continues the reporter, "was assaulted by eight cruel specters, whereof she imagined that she knew three or four." She was careful, under charge from Mather, "to forbear blazing their names," but privately told them to him; and he says, "they are a sort of wretches who for these many years have gone under _as violent presumptions of witchcraft_, as perhaps any creatures yet living on the earth." Specters known by her might, in some connections, mean persons whom she had known before their death, whose spirits now became visible; but since she gave the names of living persons as being then seen, it is obvious that she did not regard her tormentors _as bona fide spirits_, but only effigies manufactured, presented, and vitalized by the devil. The psychologist will not overlook the fact that persons whose specters were here presented were such as had in some way previously aroused suspicion that they were witches. It was imprudent at that day to "blaze names," because of very prevalent belief that the devil could present the specters of none who had not made a covenant with him, and the bare fact of annunciation by a witched person that she saw the specter of any individual whatsoever, was then conclusive proof to many minds that the said individual had made covenant with the evil one, and therefore was a witch, and must be put to death. Mather cautioned the girl not to give names to the crowd around her bed, "lest any good person should come to suffer any blast of reputation." Neither Mather nor Calef denied the devil's power to bring forth apparitions of the _innocent_; and neither reposed full confidence in or justified the use of spectral testimony generally, though very many people in those days did. The point we desire to mark is this: that Mather's account is in harmony with modern observation in giving indications that spirits, apparitions, or appearances of highly mediumistic persons are more frequently seen than those of unimpressible ones--if such are not, and we believe it is so--the class generally thus presented:--such persons, that is, the mediumistic, are more frequently than others seen by the inner or clairvoyant eye. This fact begets at least conjecture, that it is probably psychological law, and not the devil's or any one's else _choice_, which determines who shall or may be seen as specters. Persons seen in this case had previously manifested powers or acts which caused them to be regarded as witches. Around most persons, who in the sequel of these pages shall be found appearing as specters and as bewitching and tormenting others, will be found signs that they were very like such as to-day are called mediums. "They presented a book and demanded of her that she should set her hand to it, or touch it at least with her hand, as a sign of her becoming a servant of the devil;" upon her refusal to do that, they confined "her to her bed for just six weeks together." True answer to the question whether an accused one had signed the devil's book or not, was eagerly sought for in all trials for witchcraft, because if such signature had not been made by the person on trial, he or she _might_ be innocent; while if it had been, guilt was already consummated, and death was deserved. "Sometimes there looked in upon the young woman a short and a black man, whom they (the specters) called their master. They all professed themselves vassals of this devil, ... and in obedience to him, ... she was cruelly pinched with invisible hands, ... and the black and blue marks of the pinches became immediately visible unto the standers by.... She would every now and then be miserably hurt with pins, which were found stuck into her neck, back, and arms.... She would be strangely distorted in her joints and thrown ... into convulsions." Such things are stated as facts, and were not contested in the day of their occurrence--not even by Robert Calef. "From the time that Margaret Rule first found herself to be formally besieged by the specters, until the ninth day following, namely, from September 10th to the 18th, she kept an entire fast, and yet she was unto all appearance as fresh, as lively, as hearty at the nine days' end, as before they began; during all this time ... if any refreshment were brought unto her, her teeth would be set, and she would be thrown into many miseries; indeed, once or twice or so in all this time, her tormentors permitted her to swallow a mouthful of somewhat that might increase her miseries, whereof a spoonful of rum was the most considerable; but otherwise, as I said, her fast unto the ninth day was very extreme and rigid." Protracted fastings without consequent exhaustion have been common with the mediumistic in all ages. Moses, Elijah, Jesus, each fasted forty days; many mediums in our midst are often sustained for long periods by absorptions of nutriment in its elemental state into the inner or spirit organism, from that invisible storehouse of food from which trees obtain much sustenance, and whence once came loaves and fishes in Judea; from the inner thus fed, the outer man receives supplies; at least, spirits state such to be the process. "Margaret Rule once, in the middle of the night, lamented sadly that the specters threatened the drowning of a young man in the neighborhood, whom she named unto the company; well, it was afterward found that at that very time this young man, having been prest on board a man-of-war then in the harbor, was, out of some dissatisfaction, attempting to swim ashore; and he had been drowned in the attempt if a boat had not seasonably taken him up. It was by computation a minute or two after the young woman's discourse of the drowning that the young man took to the water." This account, if taken literally, reveals her prescience of a definite approximating event, also knowledge of the person whom it threatened, the place where it would act, while neither outward perceptions nor any embodied mortals could help her to such knowledge. It is not stated that either the outer or inner set of her perceptive organs directly sensed danger tending towards the young man. The report of her words is that "the specters threatened the drowning;" from this it seemingly follows that her inner sense, either of hearing or of vision, learned either the intention of spirit beings to purposely expose a particular man to danger, or they saw the oncoming of danger to him, and spoke of it to her. This occurrence through the impressible girl was left unnoticed by Calef; his silence approximates to concession that the main facts here stated were not refutable in his day. "Once," continues the narrator, "her tormentors pulled her up to the ceiling of the chamber, and held her there, before a very numerous company of spectators, who found it as much as they could all do to pull her down again." That statement is distinct and needs no comment here, but may receive further notice when we shall adduce the attestation of other personal witnesses to its actual truth. Again Mather says, "The enchanted people have talked much of a _white_ spirit from whence they have received marvelous assistances, ... by such a spirit was Margaret Rule now visited. She says she never could see his face, but that she had a frequent view of his bright, shining, and glorious garments; he stood by her bedside continually heartening and comforting her, and counseling her to maintain her faith and hope in God.... He told her that God had permitted her afflictions to befall her for the everlasting and unspeakable good of her own soul, and for the good of many others." Hers was very strange experience to outflow from _delirium tremens_. It seems to us very much more like inflowings of heavenly peace from vision of the blessed. Obviously at times there flashed forth glorious brightness during witchcraft's dismal night. Mather stated these and some other very significant facts, which Calef omitted to grapple with or to gainsay in his version of the scenes. Omitting to extract more from Mather, we will now look at Calef's account. He commences a letter to Mather in which, referring to his own previous production, he says, "having written '_from the mouths of several persons_,' who affirm they were present with Margaret Rule the 13th instant, her answers, behavior, &c." Calef therefore probably was not himself a witness of the scenes he described; but received his account from the mouths of several other persons. One of them apparently wrote, and Calef, adopting the statement, says, "I found her of a healthy countenance, about seventeen years old, lying very still and speaking but very little." Soon the Mathers (father and son, Increase and Cotton) came in. The son shortly began to question Margaret and get replies. Their colloquy was commonplace mostly, and need not be quoted; but some things then _done_ we shall notice. Margaret went into a fit, and Cotton Mather "laid his hand upon her face and nose, but, as he said, without perceiving any breath. Then he brushed her on the face with his glove, and rubbed her stomach, and bid others do so too, and said it eased her; then she revived." Shortly again she "was in a fit," and was again rubbed. "Margaret Perd, an attendant, assisted Mather in rubbing her. The afflicted spake angrily to her, saying, 'Don't you meddle with me,' and hastily put away her hand. He then wrought his fingers before her eyes." Such things, presumably, were stated correctly as matters of fact observed. Were these doings by Mather foolish and useless? Different persons will answer variously. In the eyes of most New England people to-day, they may seem to be so. In part they appear to us ill judged and harmful, though well meant and partially productive of the effect desired. When Mather could perceive no breath, he naturally became solicitous to set her lungs in motion, and by his rubbings probably soon accomplished that. The observations of many moderns have taught them to welcome, at times, stoppage of the external breathings of good mediums, deeming that indicative of free, but imperceptible, breathing by the inner lungs, which process sustains the person physically, while the spirit roams and recreates in spirit-land. Yes, to _welcome_ it, as watchers by the restless sick welcome the advent of sleep to the sufferers. Once we probably should have acted, in like circumstances, much as Mather did; but now we might often leave such a patient unacted upon for a time, even though breathless to our external perception, because of belief that action like Mather's might be as unwise as would the awakening of a sick one immediately after the commencement of a nap. His motions of the fingers around her eyes might tend to produce the same effect; that is, to draw her out of a state of _rest_ and joy, provided the outer breathing was imperceptible. Rubbings and motions of the hands, however, are often very serviceable in removing influences which are distressing, whenever the entranced one is conscious externally, as Margaret probably was in the _second_ fit, but perhaps not in the first. For in the second she detected difference between influences upon her from Mather and those from Miss Perd; the former were agreeable and welcome, the latter annoying and offensive. Systems sensitive enough to detect the qualities and influences of magnetic emanations from all human beings, yes, all animals and most minerals, that come in contact with themselves, are greatly soothed by absorption of unconscious properties from some, and irritated by those from others, though their esteem, respect, or affection for each class be the same. Qualities of emanations are, to considerable extent, independent of either intellectual, moral, or emotional states. A babe or simpleton may be the best of anodynes, while the cultured saint may be an irritant to a sensitive medium. "He put his hand on the clothes over her breast, and said he felt a living thing." Perhaps he did. In our day we hear of such presentations as semblances of small living animals around mediums; but personally, have not seen or felt such. "Soon after they" (the ministers) "were gone, the afflicted desired the _women_ to be gone, saying that the company of the _men_ was not offensive to her." There is not general popular knowledge, that the magnetisms of all animals are as distinctly male in one sex and female in the other, as are any of their organs, nor that to very sensitive persons there come times and states when their own magnetisms hunger for food from magnetisms of opposite genders. Some sensitives feel the action of finer laws and forces than men detect in their normal condition. "She learned that there were reports about town that she was not afflicted. And some came to her as spies; but during the said time" (of their visit) "she had no fit." Few anti-spiritualistic asseverations are more frequently put forth than this; that manifestations rarely occur in the presence of certain persons deemed specially competent to detect fraud and imposture, and who visit mediums for the purpose of exposing them. Unbelief was once a bar to manifestation of many marvels by Jesus of Nazareth. Also it much obstructs their presentation to-day; and probably, therefore, might have done so when emanating from spies and would-be exposers around Margaret Rule. But "they can't," is perhaps often said of spirits when "they won't," would more accurately describe the fact. As at the Albion in 1857, they would manifest before press reporters, but not before Harvard professors. They know the thoughts of each observer, and are often pleased to bite the biter; the playfully roguish sometimes find it fun to catch rogues. "She had no fit" when spies were present. "The attendants," September 19, "said that Mr. M. would not go to prayer with her when people were in the room, as they" (he and his father) "did that night he felt the _live creature_." Peter of old knew what was conducive to effectual prayer when, at the side of Dorcas, then entranced to seeming death, he "put the bystanders all forth and kneeled down and prayed." Mather no doubt had acquired similar knowledge; world-wide experience and observation teach that quiet and harmony are needful to the utterance of satisfactory or very helpful prayer. "Margaret Perd and another said they smelt brimstone. I and others," said Calef's informant, "_said_ we did not smell any." The wording leaves it doubtful, perhaps, whether the reporter and his "others," though smelling brimstone, quizzically said they did _not_, or whether they actually failed to smell it. If they did not smell the article, their natural, frank statement would have been, _we did not_. But the wording is, "_we said_" we did not. Our quotation was not made, however, for the purpose of making such criticism, but as a text to the following paragraph. Spirits sometimes have power to produce in the olfactory nerves of many persons, precisely the sensations which many familiar odors produce. We have personally been refreshed on several occasions by perception of the fragrance of pinks, while we were reclining drowsily on a couch in our own study, no visible person present with us, and no pinks in the vicinity, or in our thoughts. This has occurred quite as often in dead of winter, as when the garden was odorous with flowers. Probably such presentations may be made to some members of a company, while others in the crowd will be insensible to them. One's non-perception of spirit-born odor, whether coming from above or below, whether pleasurable or offensive, does not argue that mere fancy alone acts upon a neighbor who says he smells such. On the evening of the 13th some one present, seemingly unacquainted with her habits, put either to a particular person or to the whole company, this question. "What does she eat or drink?" And, from some unnamed source, came this response: "She does not eat at all, but drinks _rum_." Neither the question nor the answer is ascribed to Mather, nor to any one in particular. We are surprised that S. P. Fowler, the intelligent, just, and charitable editor of Salem Witchcraft, said in a foot note, page 57, that "the affliction of Margaret Rule ... was nothing more than a bad case of _delirium tremens_;" statements indicative of her good morals and habits previous to her affliction were right before his editorial eyes on pages just preceding his note, and nothing is found to her disparagement excepting that annunciation by some unknown body that she drinks _rum_. Statements in her favor, and absence of any against her in the original records, convince us that Fowler's conclusion was rash and not well founded. Mather says that "she was born of sober and honest parents;" also that it "is affirmed that for about half a year before her visitation she was observably _improved in the hopeful symptoms of a new creature_: she was become seriously concerned for the everlasting salvation of her soul, and _careful to avoid the snares of evil company_." Habits of that kind, during six preceding months, were not probable antecedents to _delirium tremens_; Calef's temptations to have charged bad character for temperance, had there been facts to sustain him, were probably very strong; but we have found no evidence that he did so. An informant of his, when reporting conversation which took place around her, furnished the question and response, viz.: "What does she eat or drink? Answer. She does not eat at all, but drinks _rum_." A fact stated by Mather himself naturally might tempt any wag, inclined to create mirth, to say playfully, "She eats nothing, but drinks _rum_." He, Mather, informs us that "once, twice, or so" her "controllers, for her annoyance or distress," allowed her to take a _spoonful_ of rum. What more common than for attendants to offer and urge upon a suffering and agonized person any stimulant or cordial at hand? Nothing. We will allow that Margaret did take "once, twice, or so" a spoonful of rum; but nothing else that we meet with in the account of her, gives the shadow of foundation for the charge of _delirium tremens_. If the charge is true, _delirium tremens_ in that case worked wonders which it is not accustomed to perform; to tell correctly, when lying on a bed on shore at night, that danger of drowning was then about coming upon a particular young man away down the harbor, was an extraordinary operation for that disease to perform; and still more extraordinary was it, that such disease lifted the body on which it was feeding, up in horizontal position to the ceiling overhead, held it there for minutes, and so firmly that it took several men to pull it down. Do such feats bespeak their origin in _delirium tremens_? No. Calling it a case of _delirium tremens_ does nothing toward giving rational explanation of the marvels attendant upon Margaret. _Rum_ is the name of a very unsafe guide, and the name, not the thing, deluded the annotator to inferences useless, entirely useless, as helps to explain such phenomena as he was engaged in elucidating. Any weakness, sin, or crime which was not charged upon Margaret Rule by her cotemporaries, it is uncharitable to allege unqualifiedly against her now, on the sole basis that in her hours of suffering she drank a few spoonfuls of rum; and is especially inapropos, when, as is the case here, the charge gives no help toward accomplishing the very purpose for which alone it should have been made, namely, as an elucidation of the cause of such things as how she sensed the danger threatening the absent man, and how or by whom she was lifted up and sustained. We shall quote no further from the statements of the two parties, Mather and Calef, made prior to their coming into distinct conflict. Enough has been presented to show that Mather stated several facts which, to the mass of men, must seem astounding--such facts as bespeak performances beyond what embodied men could enact. The wondrous facts, such as her prophecy of danger about to wait upon the impressed sailor--her long fast without pining--her being lifted by invisible force to the ceiling above her, &c., constitute the important parts of Mather's narrative of what he personally witnessed and knew. On the other side, Calef, adopting the account of unnamed witnesses, omits any allusion to the important facts in the case, and presents, in the main, different, and relatively, if not absolutely, trifling accompaniments. Calef was complained of by Mather for _omissions_. To this Calef replied, "My intelligence not giving me any further, I could not insert that I knew not." The doings of the Mathers, and especially of Cotton, much more than the manifestations through and upon Margaret, were detailed to Calef, and caused him to put forth a very meager and one-sided manuscript account of this case. The clergyman at once perceived and felt this, and soon sent his opponent the following affidavits:-- "I do testify that I have seen Margaret Rule in her afflictions from the invisible world, lifted up from her bed, wholly by an invisible force, a great way toward the top of the room where she lay. In her being so lifted she had no assistance from any use of her own arms or hands or any other part of her body, not so much as her heels touching her bed, or resting on any support whatsoever. And I have seen her thus lifted, when not only a strong person hath thrown his whole weight across her to pull her down, but several other persons have endeavored with all their might to hinder her from being so raised up; which I suppose that several others will testify as well as myself when called unto it. "Witness my hand, "SAMUEL AVIS." To the substance of the above, Robert Earle, John Wilkins, and Daniel Wilkins did subscribe that they could testify. Also Thomas Thornton and William Hudson testified to having seen Margaret so lifted up "by an invisible force ... as to touch the garret floor, while yet neither her feet nor any other part of her body rested either on the bed or on any other support, ... and all this for a considerable while; we judged it several minutes."--p. 76. Before presenting the merchant's comments upon such statements of such facts, we will name again the special reason why we draw protracted attention to the two writers, Mather and Calef. They were intelligent and alert cotemporaries, both in the vigor of manhood probably, for Mather was about thirty years of age, and Calef lived more than twenty-five years after the commencement of his controversy; both probably were cognizant of the main facts pertaining to witchcraft; even during or very shortly after their occurrence in the family of John Goodwin of Boston in 1688, in Salem 1692, and around both Mercy Short and Margaret Rule in Boston 1693. Therefore the controversial writings of these two, both well acquainted with the occurring witchcraft events of their day, but differing distinctly on many points of belief and policy, become, when used in connection, our best accessible source for learning what actually occurred in many witchcraft scenes, what beliefs were prevalent then, what kinds of evidence for convicting of witchcraft were admissible, and what rules governed the courts. Because of their value as teachers upon witchcraft, we desire to have these two men, with their agreements and differings, clearly comprehended. The merchant sent to the clergyman the following comment upon the chief point confirmed by the affidavits of five or six unimpeached witnesses, viz., the lifting of the girl to the top of the room by invisible power:-- "I suppose you expect I should believe it, and if so, the only advantage gained is, that what has so long been controverted between Protestants and Papists, _whether miracles are ceast_, will hereby seem to be decided for the latter; it being, for aught I can see, if so, as true a _miracle_ as for iron to swim; and the devil can work such miracles." A statement either more aspersive of its author's own candor, or more indicative of his thralldom to prejudice, has rarely been made. Either Calef or some one for him, when treating of the departure of the community from scriptural interpretation and treatment of witchcraft, when scanning rules laid down by accredited authors for its detection, and, generally, when handling creeds, broad principles, and prevalent usages, wielded a clear, pointed, and forceful pen. But Mather's facts blunted its point and baffled its powers. Look at their metamorphosis of the logician; he says, essentially, to his opponent, "If your facts are true, Catholics have the better of us in our controversy with them as to the continuance of miracles down to the present day. Your facts, if facts, are miracles, and we Protestants are wrong. Therefore I will not concede them: if true, they are "as great a miracle as for iron to swim," and prove the Catholics right. I won't grant them." What miracle did he concede that the devil can work? Was it causing iron to swim? or was it such lifting of Margaret Rule as had been sworn to? Perhaps we are mistaken, but we think he meant to say that the devil could lift the girl as described; who, if he had done so, wrought as great a miracle as God did when he caused the ax-head to swim where the prophet cast a stick over it. Still such an operation in modern times must not be avowed, because that would give the Catholic advantage over the Protestant! Alas for the clear-headed man when facts force him to abandon the methods of logic, and resort to those of prejudice! Mather's facts completely stultified Calef in this case. We cannot doubt--and who will venture to?--that he must have known the characters for truth and veracity of Avis and his associate witnesses; must have known the circumstances surrounding, and the state of the public mind in regard to them; and yet we notice no indication that he attempted to impeach any of them even in thought. He leaves them entirely unnoticed. Yes, where even a very slight intimation or covert innuendo in some turn of expression pointing at either credulity or mental weakness on their part would have been an argument in favor of his views, nothing of the kind appears in his writings. He leaves them without characterization--leaves them unnamed. And since he who obviously must have known them, and known too how they were generally esteemed, left their veracity and competency entirely unimpeached, when impeachment would have been his natural resort, if justifiable,--only blinding, rash, very rash, prejudice will prompt any one at this day to doubt their fair claim to be regarded as truthful and competent witnesses. Mather had said that "once her tormentors pulled her up to the ceiling of the chamber, and held her there before a numerous company of spectators, who found it as much as they could all do to pull her down again." Such was the published statement of a learned and able man, much respected by a large portion of the inhabitants of Boston, and whose incredulity was not strong enough to make him distrust the distinct testimony of his own senses. Therefore, though backed by the testimony of six other witnesses, he is deemed so credulous by many moderns that his word has little weight with them. Calef's comments upon the case are jumbled, and not such that we can place much confidence in the accuracy of our own perception of his meaning; but he seems to have conceded that the devil possessed power enough to have lifted the girl, and leaves us privileged to infer his belief in its possible exercise upon her. That generally clear-headed man's illogical and confused statement is not the least among marvels attendant upon witchcraft. He murdered logic when attempting to parry the force of facts sworn to. He did not impeach the witnesses. Omission to do that, under the circumstances, argues more convincingly to us, in favor of the literal and exact truth of the statement by Mather and six others, that the girl was raised from her bed by invisible powers up to the ceiling at the top of the room, than would Calef's own distinct assent to what they affirmed. He was no _timid_ advocate, and since a man as strong and brave as he, circumstanced as he was, omitted attempt to discredit either the character or competency of Mather's backers, the presumption is, that Calef's own sense of justice and the judgment of the town regarded them as unimpeachable. The girl was lifted, as they affirmed. What they stated is credible. We, personally, possess lack of incredulity rivalling that of Mather. For, when our own senses testify to us calmly and deliberately, under circumstances which exclude both illusion and delusion, we are accustomed to repose very much confidence in the truth and accuracy of what they say; and, in illustration of our lack of incredulity regarding what our own senses witness, or, if one prefers different phraseology, in illustration of our credulity, that is, of our ability and willingness to believe what is thus learned, we give the following account of one of our own interesting and instructive experiences:-- Several years ago, from fifteen to twenty, in a chamber of the residence of Daniel Farrar, Esq., Hancock Street, Boston, to which he had invited us and several others, we clasped the left hand of Rollin H. Squires in our own right, took position with him in the center of a large room, several feet distant from any other person or any article of furniture, when, promptly upon shutting off the gas-light, his hand began to draw ours up, gently and steadily, till our own right arm, its hand clasping his, was extended to its full length above our head. Then we moved our left hand across our chest, and it came in contact with the young man's boot at rest by our side, and simultaneously we heard a scratch upon the ceiling above, which was at least ten feet from the floor of the room. Soon he began to descend as gently as he had ascended, and when he had reached the floor and light had been let on, we saw a red chalk-mark at least three feet long on the ceiling over the spot on which we had stood up together. The mark was not there previous to the extinguishment of the light, for the whole company present had been informed that he would have chalk in his hand in order that he might give evidence to all present that he had been lifted up. Consequently all of us carefully observed the overhead ceiling up to the extinguishment of the light. No reluctance attends our publishing such a narrative; we are less solicitous to win a skeptic's laurels, than to make distinct statement of any facts pertaining to occult forces in nature, which we have experimentally learned. O, credulity! Thou art a most beneficent helper to knowledge of nature's finer laws and forces, especially of those relatively occult ones which evolve mysteries and exert unrecognized action upon man; laws and forces which it would benefit him to comprehend and regard. Scarcely can history or experience furnish a more striking instance of the stultifying and bewildering influence of marvelous _facts_ upon a bright, resolute, philanthropic man, who was kept by his creeds and prejudices from liberty and ability to let reason and logic have fair play, than was witnessed in the case of Calef. Facts are man's masters; rebellion against them, or disregard of their demands, is sure to bring humiliation upon him. Calef, whether conscious of it or not, was in an humiliated mental condition when his strong mind, without denying well-attested facts, indicated an unwillingness to acknowledge belief of them, because doing so would settle a long-controverted question adversely to the party which included himself. Seemingly nonplused and bewildered by facts, he said, in quasi-concession of their occurrence, "The devil can work such miracles." Both what Calef said, and what he omitted to say, tend forcibly to produce conviction that Samuel Avis and his five associate witnesses stated "truth, and nothing but the truth." Words or statements from men whose characters were not impeached by a contesting cotemporary, ought to be accepted as true by those who now can know nothing against the truthfulness of lips from which they issued. Had Calef's mind embraced perception that those whom he and nearly all others then deemed the great devil, and smaller ones,--heaven-born, but fallen,--were in fact what all clairvoyants, then and in all subsequent days, have said they resembled,--and what they claimed to be,--that is, men and women originally earth-born, and then earth-emancipated spirits, requiring no more special permission from the Omnipotent One than man does for using the forces of external nature,--could he have perceived that such beings might be the performers of all the marvelous works of witchcraft, he would have become free to admit possible solidity in some Catholic ground; free to have set at least one foot upon it, and having done that, he could have dispensed with that heaven-born devil whom he supposed God commissioned, but whom Mather believed man had to help God commission before he could harass mankind; would have been free to do thus because he then would have seen possibility that other, lesser, or less formidable agents have power to work marvels, would have seen that such could have lifted Margaret Rule, and thus made the words of those who described their wonderful works credible, and exempted himself from attack of Mather at points where the striker was greatest sufferer from the blows. When attacking some barbarous beliefs and customs of Christendom, Calef was very successful, and became a very great public benefactor; but he failed, if such was ever his design, to refute the positive occurrence of such marvelous facts as Mather's descriptions set forth. The general accuracy of the clergyman's allegations was not made questionable by the merchant's writings, even though he did present the man himself in some ludicrous aspects, and often attempted that, when more knowledge of spirit forces and agents than he possessed would have taught him that future time might smile at the smiler and the would-be provoker of smiles. COTTON MATHER. The phases in which the writings of Cotton Mather present their author are so varied, and the estimation in which he has been held by subsequent writers is so diverse, that there is difficulty in characterizing him to one's own satisfaction. He was neither wholly saint, nor wholly sinner; was not unmingled wisdom, nor all folly. We do not very eagerly undertake to outline his character. But since, apart from records of courts, his pen furnished more valuable and more numerous facts pertaining to New England witchcraft in the seventeenth century than have come down from any other pen, there seems to be a call upon us to comment upon his competency and trustworthiness as observer and as reporter or recorder of facts. In matured life he had become probably the first scholar and most learned man in the province. His mind was bright, versatile, and active, and its application to books, to the demands of his profession, and to the educational, moral, religious, and political interests of the public, was untiring. His attention was drawn to consideration of marvelous occurrences while he was quite young, and his records of witchcraft were nearly _all_ penned by the time he was thirty years old. In 1689, being then only twenty-six, he published a small work entitled "Memorable Providences relating to Witchcraft and Possessions." He was a personal witness and an alert observer, through several successive months, of a rapid and prolonged stream of marvels, which were manifested through the children of John Goodwin, of Boston, in 1688, a long account of which he published quite soon after their occurrence. Four years later came on the SALEM WITCHCRAFT, and portions of its tragic and agonizing occurrences were witnessed by this Boston clergyman. He was present in the crowd around the gallows when several of the wronged victims to diabolism were executed. And he promptly furnished an extended account of much which had just intensely agitated and frenzied not only Salem and Essex County, but the whole province. The next year, 1693, brought him opportunity to be much with and to observe carefully two afflicted young, women in Boston, Mercy Short and Margaret Rule, whose maladies were deemed bewitchments. He recorded his observations and doings relating to these two persons, and his accounts are available to-day, though there is evidence rendering it probable that he never prepared either record for the press, and that both have become public without his sanction. As has been learned from what precedes, Robert Calef, an opponent of some then prevalent beliefs and practices concerning witchcraft, found means, whether honorably or not is perhaps debatable, for putting Mather's account of Margaret Rule before the world. This young woman was under Mather's special watch for several weeks, while she was being acted upon by occult agents and forces; and he promptly recorded for perusal by his friends an account of what transpired around her. From the foregoing statements it is obvious that, both directly and indirectly, very many facts and opinions, that will be adduced as our work proceeds, will have been derived from Mather's records, and will rest, at least in part, upon his authority. Consequently, his qualifications, as observer, reporter, and recorder, are matters not only of interest, but of some importance. Though young when attentive to witchcraft scenes, Mather was learned and influential. Probably few other persons, if any, in the colonies were then his equals in those respects. His duties as a clergyman and a citizen, and his inclination also, led him to be an extensive observer of marvelous manifestations; he obviously was a lover of such. And his records show that he was either a closer observer of the minutiæ of transpiring events of that nature, or a more willing and careful specifier of little things pertaining to them, full of important meaning to some readers now, yet probably meaningless to many others, than were most of his cotemporaries; though Lawson, Hale, and Willard were good at specification, and were more cautious commentators than Mather. An ignoring of any participation by spirits in witchcraft scenes has blinded historians in both the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to some decided merits in the writings of Mather. The assumption by later commentators that no occurrences whatsoever, which required more than mortal agency for their production, ever actually transpired in cases witnessed and described by Mather, has apparently caused them, consciously or otherwise, to impute to his fancy, credulity, or other untrustworthy attributes, many things which a moderate acquaintance on their part with modern manipulations of occult forces by invisible intelligences would have suggested to them that possibly, and even probably, his statements of facts were based on positive observations by his own physical senses, and by the external senses of other observers. A class of agents are now at work whose cognition may some day turn the laugh upon overweeningly wise laughers at Cotton Mather. This circumscribed view as to the actual extent and variety of _natural_ intelligent agents, and _natural_ laws and forces, has caused them to draw inferences disparaging to Mather's accuracy in places where more knowledge of the outworkings of laws and forces which spirits obey and use, would have given them trust in the essential naturalness and consequent probable occurrence of nearly or quite all the facts stated in his narrative of personal observations and experiences--we do not say in the pervading wisdom and value of his comments and inferences, but in the naturalness and consequent credibility of his _facts_. Where forlorn and wretched old women, together with tricksy and roguish girls, and a few low-lived, malicious mortals of both sexes are regarded as the actual authors of all witchcraft phenomena, Mather's reports of that class of occurrences are an offense--are a stumbling-block in the pathway of satisfactory solution. So long as his statements are left unimpeached, such agents as witchcraft has of late been imputed to are incompetent to the work ascribed to them. That author, therefore, must needs be discredited; consequently sneer, and slur, and ridicule have been brought to bear against his accuracy and trustworthiness. Some modern commentators have made _savage_ use of such weapons upon this original describer of witchcraft scenes. He has been by innuendoes caricatured and metamorphosed to an extent which seems distinctly reprehensible. Brightest minds may sometimes lack knowledge of some existing agents and forces; good men may be actual, though unintentional perpetrators of great wrong, when they depict the characters of some predecessors whose words seem extravagant to such as limit natural actors and forces to those which the external senses and human science have long been familiar with. Our recent readings have led us to regard Mather as a man of more than common efficiency in acquiring information, and more than common despatch in putting his acquisitions before the public. We find evidences in his works that, if he did not acquire, he put forth both more minute and more extensive knowledge of the marvelous phenomena of his times, than any other person then living in America of whom we have knowledge. Portions of his creeds helped him to frankness in description of marvels. His faith embraced many unseen intelligent agents, both good and bad, moving to and fro among men, ever walking the earth and influencing its affairs both "when we wake and when we sleep." Consequently he never had occasion to inquire whether anything whatsoever was _possible_ which his senses or the senses of other witnesses seemed to cognize. He doubted not that unseen powers competent to anything whatsoever were around both him and all other human beings. His only question was, did the thing occur? If it did, it was proper to describe it as it appeared to its beholders. _How_ it could occur was a question which he, as recorder, was not called upon to answer; and he did not permit it to modify his record. This weakness(?) of his was fraught with latent strength which becomes beneficent in our day by its revealing to us the former mysterious irruption upon society of precisely such _outré_ and seemingly unnatural antics and doings, not only of animated human forms, but of lifeless household utensils and ornaments, as we are witnessing. History by him repeats itself to-day, and to-day's marvels give credibility to his statements. Mather furnished broader and better bases for judging of the real sources, nature, character, and extent of witchcraft facts, than we generally get from other persons of his day. Over-cautious witnesses and reporters often mislead very widely by failing to tell "the whole truth." Some of Mather's statements and doings which were slurred even by his cotemporary Calef, and have been by later writers also, may deserve more respectful consideration than has usually been accorded to them. We are alluding to his manipulations of the afflicted, and other like acts. These indicate that either his observances and care of bewitched persons, or his intuitions, were giving him hints of the existence of natural laws and special conditions which permit mortals to loose, what he conceived to be,--or at least spoke of as being,--the devil's hold upon human instruments. We apprehend that he had at least vague surmises that some things which we now call mesmeric passes and psychological forces might be so applied by himself as to thwart the purposes and powers of possessing spirits. We are ready to grant that his use of dawning knowledge or of inflowed suggestions, whichever of them it was that set his own hands in motion over the obsessed, and prompted him to influence others to do the like, produced movements so unskillful that they were seldom very efficacious; yet we perceive that he moved in direction toward later discoveries which at this day enable many mortals to exercise much power toward both inducing and abolishing the control of human beings by disembodied spirits. There hang about Mather slight indications that he received some knowledge or some impulses, mediumistically, impressionally, or intuitively. The fact that, though having much to do with both Mercy Short and Margaret Rule during the months of their affliction in the year immediately following the executions at Salem, he refrained from advising or procuring their prosecution, or the prosecution of any whom they named as their afflictors, the facts that prayers, fastings, manipulations, and protracted and unflagging kindnesses and attentions, were his only appliances, and that both the girls were brought back to their normal condition, speak very distinctly in favor of Mather's sagacity and philanthropy, in relation to the bewitched and the bewitchers, that year. Though we are disposed to credit this prominent man with all the merits to which he has fair claim, we are far from regarding him as without foibles, weaknesses, and traits fitted to mantle the reader's face with smiles. We dissent from many of his notions, practices, and beliefs; we find him often swayed by motives which we are not ready to commend. At the same time we apprehend that many modern critics have paraded his weaknesses, blemishes, and laughable traits out of all just proportion to the notices, if any, which they have taken of his genuine merits. Mather obviously was vain, egotistical, proud of his descent, greedy of the favor of great men both of the province and abroad, and was ambitious of place and influence. But vanity and egotism are not necessarily incompatible with very extensive learning, nor with great activity and beneficence, nor with presentation of facts and truths both very fully and without over-statement or distortion. He wrote hastily--much too hastily, and loosely oftentimes. More care to verify information and statements furnished him by other people, and more careful expressions pertaining to his own observations, experiences, and opinions, would have rendered him a much more valuable historian than he became. We concede that he was a loose and immethodical writer; but we fail to find evidence that he often, if ever, substituted fictions for facts, or made false statements or great exaggerations. The world is indebted to him for preserving and transmitting much valuable information. This man's estimation of himself and of his ancestry often reveals itself in extent and manner which provoke smiles. Possibly his egotism was competent to give him a latent notion that quite as much favor might be vouchsafed by powers above to his two eminent grandfathers, Revs. Richard Mather and John Cotton, to his father, Rev. Increase Mather, President of Harvard College, and to himself, as Heaven had in store for any mortals; and if any one of the four should be the special favorite of supernal intelligence, why not himself, in whom the blood of the other three was combined? If any quite honorable Public position was devoid of an incumbent, or if important literary public service was needed, who was more competent to fill the one, or to the performance of the other, than himself? He wrote both for and of Sir William Phips, but was not chosen President, of Harvard College. Even egregious egotism is not necessarily incongruous with truth, kindness, charity, devotion, and great usefulness. With all his faults, we regard Mather, when compared with most men, as having been very efficient, well-intentioned, and useful to the community around him. Propensity to magnify self and whatever self either puts forth or is closely allied to, may be prevailingly bridled and controlled by other strong inclinations, and kept within the boundaries of truth. Greed for approbation and commendation by persons holding high official position, and by all others whose characters, attainments, or possessions gave them influence in society, was apparently very strong in Cotton Mather, and the influence of that greed must generally have swayed him to make no important statements which would fail to meet, with general credence by his friends and fellow-townsmen. His account of the Goodwin family is as full of things hard to be believed as any other portion of his writings; and yet, if he therein permitted himself to make any other than such statements as would receive ready credence by many physicians, clergymen, magistrates, and other influential and truthful persons who had been his fellow-witnesses, and knew exactly the bounds beyond which he could not go on a basis of well-observed facts, he would diminish his fame and favor with the public; and he well knew this. He was not the man to thus put his own reputation at hazard. His very weaknesses render it probable that he has transmitted little, if anything, more relating to that family than Boston, as a whole, was at that time actually believing had just occurred in its midst. It is not wise, not kind, not just to overlook such characteristics and circumstances pertaining to a narrator as would naturally hold his speech within the bounds of credibility. Mather's style and manner, sometimes admirable, are very often laughable, and are generally loose and unattractive. But these matters of taste and polish are distinct from his facts and truthfulness. Bad manners, lack of tact, also speech, acts, and omissions unbecoming the gentleman and the divine, mark portions of Mather's treatment of Calef. Whether such were his general characteristics, we do not know; probably they were not. Occupation of the pulpit, as we know by personal experience, may make a preacher exceedingly sensitive to questionings of his opinions on any important matters anywhere. His habit of speaking, week after week, year after year, where none question or controvert, induces extreme sensitiveness in the mental cuticle. If sick and overworked, Mather may have been easily nettled into other than his usual manners when Calef pricked him by opposing his beliefs, and by covert sneers at some of his actions. In his account of Mercy Short he mentions his impaired health and overworkings. Unfortunately, as we judge, for his posthumous reputation, Mather was scribe of a convention of clergymen who met and deliberately put forth advice to the courts and government pertaining to evidence and processes which might properly be used at trials for the crime of witchcraft. As scribe, Mather reduced the opinions of the convention to form for publication, if he had not previously drawn up his own, and at the meeting obtained their adoption. Since the advice of this convention has been extensively regarded as disastrous in its results, Mather has been deemed an efficient, if not the most efficient of all promoters of the executions at Salem. We seriously question the justice of such imputation upon him, and we doubt whether the advice of the convention incited to the special course of action pursued by the courts, though it partially permitted it, perhaps. That advice commended "a very critical and exquisite caution ... _that there may be nothing used as a test for the trial of the suspected, the lawfulness whereof may be doubted by the people of God_." So far, good. This, to us at this day, looks like a caution to avoid the admission of _spectral evidence_, as it was then called, and distinct statement is made that such evidence alone was not enough to justify conviction; also it looks like a caution against cruel methods of extorting pleas and confessions. But the concluding paragraph of their advice, which is in the following words, _may_ have greatly nullified the softening force of all that preceded it. "We cannot but humbly recommend unto the government the speedy and vigorous prosecution of such as have rendered themselves obnoxious, according to the directions given in the laws of God and wholesome statutes of the English nation, for the detection of witchcraft." This advice came forth June 15, 1692, just when the flames of witchcraft at Salem village had become alarming to the whole community; when scores of people were under arrest there upon suspicion of witchcraft, and when the courts were anxiously seeking to know how to conduct their trials. The advice seems to us somewhat ambidexter, holding forth in one hand exhortations to caution and leniency, and in the other an exhortation to make vigorous and prompt application of English witchcraft laws and usages which permitted and implied resort to most barbarous processes, and admitted all imaginable sorts of evidence. The general impression upon our mind, made by our recent readings, is, that the clergy generally were opposed to much reliance upon spectral evidence, and that their advice was meant to give that impression; while the civil _magistrates_ at Salem held a different opinion, acted according to it, and obtained convictions upon spectral evidence in cases where none other was attainable. It was the civil magistrates, much more than the clergy, whose opinions, when embodied in action, outwrought the horrors of Gallows Hill. Therefore we attach less blame to the scribe of the convention, and to the convention itself, than many others have done. Though the belief is wide-spread in the youthful mind of our day that Cotton Mather was chief begetter of Salem witchcraft, we find no facts to justify belief that any act of his ever had such intent. His chief acts known to us which connect him at all with doings there, were his authorship of the clerical advice just noticed, his presence at the hanging when Proctor, Willard, Burroughs, and others were executed, when he said aloud to the multitude which was being incited by a fervent and touching address from the lips of the doomed Burroughs, "Even the devil may be changed into an angel of light," and his offer to support five or six of the afflicted at his own expense for weeks, provided he should be allowed to treat them by his own preferred process--that of praying and fasting, and keeping them mostly secluded from public observation. Unexplained, his presence at the execution may be supposed to argue that it was one which had attractions for him--one which it was his pleasure to be present at. But a very rational supposition of Poole places Mather before us there in a different light. Proctor and others had been hardly dealt with by the clergy in and near Salem, and, while confined in Boston jail awaiting the day of execution, they received such attentions from Mather, that they requested him to be present as their spiritual adviser at the closing hour of their earthly lives. Statements by Mather, which his cotemporaries never contradicted, are to the effect that he never attended any trial for witchcraft, that no one was ever prosecuted for that crime by him, or at his suggestion, or by his advice; that his voice and intentional influence were ever against such proceedings. He also informs us that he made an offer to support five or six of the Salem sufferers for weeks at his own expense, if he could have them subjected to his special charge, so that he could treat them by methods of his own. Such facts surely indicate that an ardent and active man like him, ever burning to take part in most popular movements, was not in sympathy with originators of the violent and barbarous proceedings which were prosecuted at Salem. Had he relished them he would have been present at the trials. The facts give spontaneous birth to a presumption that some other motive than curiosity to witness the executions took him to Salem at the time when we find him there, and the supposition of Poole that he went there as the comforter and friend of Proctor and Willard is reasonable, and probably correct. If it be, the motive of his visit was not only commendable, but was also in harmony with his general doings in witchcraft cases that were more specially under his supervision, and is in distinct antagonism with motives which have been extensively imputed to him. We apprehend, however, that when others obtained convictions and sentences for witchcraft, he favored the execution of what he deemed wholesome law. We regret that he rudely broke the spell which the hallowing speech and prayer of the saintly Burroughs were bringing upon the witnessing crowd. But we question whether the special reputed crime for which Burroughs was about to die, caused Mather to allude to him as the _devil_. Burroughs, though a preacher, had not been regularly ordained, or surely not in a way that satisfied Mather; also he was too regardless of the ordinances of religion, and too free a thinker, to suit the taste of the pastor of the North Church in Boston. This was, we think, his great offense in Mather's view; and this caused the latter to say in reference to one who may have been more God-like and Christ-like in spirit than himself, "Even the devil may be changed into an angel of light." That saying, under its circumstances, is damaging to Mather; yet it does not bear against him in matters pertaining to witchcraft, but to those of sectarianism or bigotry. Mather the _humane_ and Mather the _fame-seeker_ present very different aspects in their connections with witchcraft. As we view him in cases where he was leader and director, as those of Mercy Short and Margaret Rule, matters were so managed that no one was brought to examination upon suspicion of bewitching them, and Mather's words and acts were uniformly designed to prevent any arraignment. Prayer, fastings, manipulations, and all practicable privacy and quiet were his preferred appliances for closing up the devil's avenues of access, and of barring him off from man. This was Mather the _humane_, was Mather the _practical pastor_. But when the courts and men of influence and high position had applied, as they interpreted them, "the laws of God and the wholesome statutes of the English nation for the detection of witchcraft," the thirster for public approbation, not only refrained from protest against bloodshed, but lacked modesty enough to hold him back from hinting that his own productions might have helped on the beneficent work which had been accomplished; for he carefully let the world know that Mr. _Mather, the younger_, drew up the advice of the ministers to the court; and after having written out an account of the trials at Salem, he said, "I shall rejoice that God is glorified, if the publication of these trials may promote such a pious thankfulness to God _for justice being so far executed among us_," as the ministers piously expressed in their advice. This was Mather the fame-seeker, the ecclesiastic, and the subject of their Majesties, William and Mary. Mather was not a well-balanced man. Consistency all round was not conspicuous in him, yet he was consistent in his own treatment and management of all his special patients, and also in his efforts to make it known that himself might deserve some meed of merit for the murderous course pursued by the authorities for stopping the ravages of the evil one. From early manhood to the close of his life, Mather was an unfaltering believer in Protestant Christendom's great witchcraft devil, backed by countless hosts of lesser ones, and he also believed in her special witchcraft. He had full faith in a devil as ubiquitous, active, and malignant as his own vigorous and expansive intellect could conjure up; had faith that extra manifestations of afflictive might, of knowledge, or of suffering in the outer world were produced by the devil, and faith also that even that mighty evil one was unable to afflict men outwardly, excepting either at the call or by the aid of some human servant who had entered into a covenant with his Black Majesty. The woe-working points of this man's faith were, that special covenantings with the devil were entered into by human beings, in consequence of which the covenanting mortals became witches--that is, they thence became able to command all his powers, as well as he theirs; also that only through such covenanted ones could he or his do harm to the bodies and external possessions of men. Therefore, he reasoned, that, whenever extra and unaccountable malignant action appeared, some covenanter with the devil must be in the neighborhood of the malignant manifestation. And yet, practically, Mather was not disposed to let the public get knowledge of the covenanter. His choice was, to keep secret the names of bewitched actors, the afflictors of the suffering ones, and to strive by prayers, fastings, manipulations, &c., to relieve the unhappy sufferers. Had his policy been adopted by the public, had his example been widely followed, there would have been no execution for witchcraft in his generation. We can--and we are glad that we can--state that Mather's faith embraced some other invisible beings than malicious ones, who had access to man. In that respect he probably differed from, and was favored above, most of the clergy and church members of his times; and perhaps his possession of faith in the ministry of _good_ angels made him a more lenient handler and more patient observer of the afflicted, than were most of his cotemporaries. His prolonged attention to Martha Goodwin, to Mercy Short, to Margaret Rule, and his offer to take care of five or six Salem ones if he could be allowed the management of them, bespeak kindness in him above what was common in his age toward those deemed to be under "an evil hand." He once wrote thus:-- "In the present evil world it is no wonder that the evil angels are more _sensible_ than those of the good ones. Nevertheless it is very certain that the _good_ angels continually, without any defilement, fly about in our defiled atmosphere _to minister_ for the good of them that are the heirs of salvation.... Now, though the angelic ministration is usually behind the curtain of more visible instruments and their actions, yet sometimes it hath been with extraordinary circumstances made more obvious to the sense of the faithful." He was not unmindful and did not omit to record the fact that "the enchanted people talked much of a _white spirit_, from whence they received marvelous assistances.... Margaret Rule had a frequent view of his bright, shining, and glorious garments, ... and says he told her that God had permitted her afflictions to befall her for the unspeakable and everlasting good of her own soul, and for the good of many others; and for his own immortal glory." When a being or beings of such glorious appearance present themselves, and when their utterances and influences are elevating and blissful, it is not wise to ignore them. The very laws which permit the advent of low and dark spirits are natural, and can be availed of, on fitting occasions and conditions, by elevated and bright ones; therefore wisdom invites man to solicit and prepare the way for visits by the latter class. The courtesy of S. F. Haven, Esq., the accomplished librarian of the American Antiquarian Society, Worcester, Mass., recently permitted us to see a long-lost and recently discovered manuscript, giving, in Cotton Mather's handwriting, an account of Mercy Short. We judge from cursory perusal of a modern manuscript copy of Mather's account, that the librarian had ample grounds for reporting to the society that Mercy Short's was "a case similar to that of Margaret Rule, but _of greater interest and fuller details_." He further remarked in his report, that "it will be remembered that the account of Margaret Rule was not published by Mather himself, but by his enemy Calef, who by some means obtained possession of it. The story of Mercy Short, from an indorsement upon it, appears to have been privately circulated among his friends, but there is nothing to show that Mather ever intended it for publication."--_S. F. Haven's Report, April 29, 1874._ Common fairness requires all modern critics to remember and regard the fact that Mather's accounts of Mercy Short and Margaret Rule were never given to the public by himself; that they never received his revision and correction for the press. Because of this they perhaps come to us more alive with the spirit of frankness and sincerity, and with more detail of little incidents. Unstudied records are generally honest and substantially accurate, even if marred by looseness of style and expression, and by statements of wonders. Our views would require us to refrain from calling Calef _Mather's_ "enemy," as the librarian did. He was the enemy of _unscriptural_ definitions of witchcraft, and of unjustifiable proceedings against those accused of it; but not, as we read his purposes and feelings, the enemy of Mather himself. He was the enemy of opinions of which Mather was a conspicuous and outspoken representative, and whose writings furnished provoking occasion for an attack upon disastrous errors. We trust the public may ere long see Mather's account of Mercy Short in print. That, and the one of Margaret Rule, show us very authentically, and we can almost say _beautifully_, the temper of Mather witch-ward, in the spring and autumn of the year next following the memorable 1692. Nothing then inclined him to ways that led to human slaughter. The conditions, seeming acts, and surroundings of those two girls apparently gave him opportunity and power to evoke a repetition of Salem's fearful scenes, in which the modern world has been deluded to believe that his soul found pleasure. If that soul loved blood, it could easily have set it flowing in 1693, and found wherewith to gratify its appetite; but _it did not_. One of the questions of great importance which received earnest discussion in witchcraft times, perhaps the most important of all in practical bearings, had Mather and Calef both on the same side, and consequently it was not dwelt upon in their controversy. Our reference is to the _validity_ of "_spectral evidence_,"--that is, of testimony given by those who obviously perceived the facts they testified to while in an entranced, clairvoyant, or other abnormal condition. Some--many--able and good men then maintained that such testimony, unbacked by any other, might justify conviction of witchcraft, while quite as many, equally able and good men, including most of the clergy, maintained that such testimony alone was not sufficient. Another disputed point was, whether Satan could assume the shape of an innocent person, and in that shape do mischief to the bodies and estates of mankind. The same question, partially, is up to-day--viz., Can any but willing devotees to Satan be used in the processes of spirit manifestations? Our two combatants were not at variance here--both had faith that Satan, the then synonym of _Spirits_, whether good or bad, could employ the innocent in prosecuting his purposes. On the question whether Satan was obliged to use some mortal in covenant with himself whenever he harmed another mortal, they differed, as has been already shown, Mather claiming that human co-operation was frequently, if not always, needful to any manifestation of witchcraft. But in 1698 he put this among what he conceived to be "mistaken principles." We do not recall any other point on which he expressed change of view, nor do we find him making confessions of personal wrong-doings in connection with witchcraft; neither does he seem to have had cause for either confession or repentance, if kindness, leniency, and good-will to man are not to be confessed and repented of as crimes. ROBERT CALEF. Robert Calef, though probably not in advance of many others in detecting and dissenting mentally from the public errors of faith and practice in relation to witchcraft, was first to manifest nerve enough to speak out boldly his own thoughts and those of many others. Backed and aided probably by strong and learned men, he became to Christendom's witchcraft, as Martin Luther had been to its Roman creeds and practices, a bold, outspoken _protestant_. Each of them dared to brave strong currents of popular beliefs and practices, even when the course was encompassed with dangers. Each probably was moved and sustained by firm conviction that truth, right, and justice were on his side; each had nerve enough to stand firm and resolute in his self-chosen post of danger and philanthropy; and each was, to great extent, successful. Luther challenged the pope and his devotees to justify portions of their creed and practices, and Calef did the same to Cotton Mather, as a leading annunciator and expounder of the witchcraft creed. Luther and Calef each conceded that much in the creed of those whom he contested was founded on Scripture, and so far was impregnable; but they saw that many unauthorized and baneful appendages had been put upon true scriptural faith and instructions, and each labored to sever the true and good from the false and bad with which the currents of opinions and events had long been investing them. Neither of them, however, discerned all the errors and pernicious practices which have since become visible. Luther, though he saw, or at least heard, and scolded, and threw his ink-horn at Catholicism's devil, did not discard, but retained, in his Protestant creed, both him and witchcraft as they then existed in the Catholic belief. Calef conceded the positive existence of Mather's great personal witchcraft devil of supernal origin, vast power, and ever-burning malignity, but found him commissioned only by God--never by human witches, as it was then generally believed he was and must be, when he manifested his power through or upon man. We are much in doubt as to whether Calef was properly _author_ of a large part of what he published relating to witchcraft. The articles he put forth from time to time seem to us very varied in style and in merits as to their scholarly and rhetorical airs. It is said, in vol. i. p. 288, Mass. Hist. Soc. Records, that "Calef was furnished with materials for his work by Mr. Brattle of Cambridge, and his brother of Boston, and other gentlemen who were opposed to the Salem proceedings." He may have had--and we conjecture that he had--much help in putting his materials into the form in which they came before the public. We are able to learn very little concerning the man himself. It is usual to style him a Boston merchant, but Mather alludes to him as that "weaver," &c. Whatever may have been his culture, occupation, character, or social position, he assumed the responsibility of what is imputed to him--and we very willingly leave uncontested both his claims to have been author of all that he subscribed to, and to be called a Boston _merchant_. Calef went into his work in deep earnest, and perhaps from a strong sense of duty to God and man; he perceived that departure from teachings and requirements of the Scriptures, and adoption of opinions, processes of examination, and kinds of evidence which the Scriptures did not prescribe, had occasioned the chief woes of witchcraft, and therefore devoted much time to the work of producing great and needed change in public opinion. He continued for some time to write clearly and forcibly to Mather; but, failing there to get his fundamental questions squarely and satisfactorily met, after months of trial, addressed a letter "to the ministers, whether English, French, or Dutch," upon this subject; this general application, however, failed to bring a response. Next he tried the Rev. Samuel Willard individually, then "all the ministers in and near Boston;" afterward Rev. Benjamin Wadsworth singly; but his success in eliciting replies was so meager, that we apparently may apply to those from whom he sought information the following words which he used in reference to some who had defined rules by which to detect witchcraft,--viz., "Perhaps the force of a prevailing opinion, together with an education thereto suited, might overshadow their judgments." His dates show that his calls for either refutation or assent to his positions were continued for two or three years, and that he was not simply or mainly an opponent of Mather, but an earnest seeker for light. In 1700, his collected correspondence, together with much other matter from Mather's pen and other sources, was published in London, and entitled "_More_ wonders of the Invisible World," Mather having previously published "Wonders of the Invisible World." This clear-sighted, earnest, untiring spirit soon gained the public ear extensively, began to enlighten the public mind, and turn it into new channels of thought and inquiry. Though not a polished, he was an intelligible, logical, and forceful writer in the main, and did much toward accomplishing the reformation to which he devoted his energies. Calef was a moral hero, and bravely did noble work in bringing flood tides of murderous fanaticism, error, and delusion to an ebb, and in barring channels against their return. His appropriate stand in history's niches may be at the head of Witchcraft Reformers--not repudiators, but _Reformers_. THOMAS HUTCHINSON. During nearly one hundred years, from about the middle of the eighteenth to that of the nineteenth century, the American public has been content to leave unlifted concealing drapery which the historian Hutchinson threw over witchcraft. His treatment of that subject is plausible and soothing to cursory readers, but superficial and unsatisfactory to minds which test the competency of agents to produce effects ascribed to them. His views have been so widely adopted and so long prevalent, that we must regard him as having been more influential than any other writer in hiding the gigantic limbs, features, and operations of what was with reason a veritable monster in the eyes of its beholders. In him some reprehensible qualities were conjoined with many admirable ones. Appleton's New American Cyclopædia states that "Thomas Hutchinson was born in Boston in 1711, and died at Brampton, near London, 1780. He was graduated at Harvard College, 1727. He became Judge of Probate in 1752, was Councillor from 1749 to 1756, Lieutenant Governor from 1758 to 1771, and was appointed Chief Justice in 1760, thus holding four high offices at one time. In the disputes which led to the Revolution, he sided with the British government.... He received his commission as Governor in 1771; and his whole administration was characterized by duplicity and an avaricious love of money, writing letters which he never sent, but which he showed as evidence of his zeal for the liberties of the province, while he advised the establishment of a citadel in Boston," &c. The History of Massachusetts by the pen of this man has sterling merits, and is of great value. That work and the bestowal of so many high offices upon him indicate that his abilities, acquisitions, and performances were of high order. His comments upon subjects which he discussed, and facts which he presented, were prevailingly fair, and very instructive. When he perceived--and he generally did--the genuine significance of his facts, reasoned from them _all_, and allowed to each its proper weight, he was a spirited, lucid, and valuable interpreter and guide. But when he encountered and adduced extraordinary facts, which baffled his power to account for in harmony with his prejudgments and fixed conclusions as to where natural agents and forces cease to act, he could very skillfully keep in abeyance the most distinguishing and significant aspects of such troublesome materials. That damaging moral weakness which let him write letters which he never sent, for the purpose of exhibiting them as evidence of his support of the popular cause, perhaps also let him be other than manly and frank when he encountered a certain class of facts which seemed to him "more than natural." The whole subject of witchcraft was nettlesome to him. His pen very often indicated a testy, disturbed, and sometimes a contemptuous mover when it characterized persons who had been charged with that crime; and concerning such he recorded many hasty and unsatisfactory opinions and conclusions. A glimpse at the probable and almost necessary state of public opinion and knowledge concerning spiritual forces and agents about the middle of the eighteenth century, will detect serious difficulties besetting any witchcraft historian's path at that time, and dispose us to look in clemency upon his hypotheses and conclusions, even though they be far from satisfactory. The intense strain given to the prevalent monstrous creed concerning the devil, when its requirements were vigorously enforced at Salem Village in 1692, ruptured that creed itself; and no substitute for it under which the phenomena of witchcraft could be referred to competent authors and forces had been obtained in 1767. The public formerly had believed that either One Great Devil and his sympathetic imps, or embodied human beings who had made a covenant with him, must be the authors of all mysterious malignant action upon men, because no other unseen rational agents were recognized as having access to man. All acts deemed witchcrafts, therefore, were the devil's. But belief devil-ward had changed at Hutchinson's day. The Great Devil's use of covenanted children, women, and men as his only available instrumentalities, had ceased to be asserted; the fathering of all mysterious works upon him and his had become an obsolete custom. Its revival might not meet kindly reception by the public; it probably would be distasteful to people whom tragic experience had not very long since taught to distrust and disown his Black Majesty's sway over material things, and were also chagrined that their fathers had held undoubting faith in his powers and operations over and upon things temporal and palpable. The devil had been credited with more than he performed or had power to accomplish. Reflection had brought conviction that other intermeddlers existed than purely Satanic ones. And yet the culture and science of those times were incompetent to furnish an historian with any satisfactory evidence that any intelligent actors excepting the devil and human beings acted in and upon human society. Devil or man, one or the other, according to the then existing belief, must have enacted witchcraft. Whether the devil did, had been under consideration for more than seventy years, and public judgment declared him not guilty. What, therefore, was the historian's necessity? He was forced to make embodied human beings its sole enactors. No wonder that the necessity made him petulant when facts and circumstances forced from his pen intimations that mere children and old women were competent and actual authors of some manifestations which, to his own keen and philosophic intellect, seemed "more than natural." "More than natural" in his sense they obviously were. A distinct perception that the good _God's_ disembodied children, as well as the devil's, can naturally traverse avenues earthward, and manifest their powers among men, would have enabled him to account philosophically for all the mysteries of those days. But "the fullness of time" for that had not then come. C. W. UPHAM. In 1867, just, one century after Hutchinson, Hon. Charles W. Upham, of Salem, Mass., published an elaborate, polished, interesting and instructive "History of Witchcraft and Salem Village." The connection of two such topics as a local history and a general survey of witchcraft in one work, was very appropriate and judicious in this case, because Salem Village, which embraced the present town of Danvers and parts of other towns adjacent, was the site of the most extensive and awful conflict which men ever waged in avowed and direct contest with the devil on this continent, if not in the world. By his course he enabled the reader to comprehend what kind or quality of men, women, and children they were, among whom that combat raged. Upham's history of the _Village_ and its people is minute, exhaustive, lucid, sprightly, and ornate. That work clearly shows that the people of the Village possessed physical, mental, moral, and religious powers, faculties, traits, trainings, and habits which must have given them keenness of perception, logical acumen, both physical and moral stamina and courage, and made them as difficult to delude or cow by novel occurrences as any other people anywhere, either then, before that time, or since. The same properties made them intelligent analyzers of their creed, clear perceivers of its logical reaches, tenacious holders on to what they believed, and fearless appliers of their faith. Holding, in common with all Christendom, the deluded and deluding belief that supermundane works required some human being "covenanted to the devil" for their performance, this people was ready and able to apply that belief in righteous fight. Such a people were not very likely to mistake the pranks of their own children for things supermundane in origin. To suspect them of such credulity or infatuation is to suspect and impeach the truth and accuracy of the very history which makes them so clearly and fully known to us. The same faculties and acquirements which furnished so sprightly a history of the Village, of course made their impress upon the pages devoted to "_Witchcraft_." And results might have been as pleasing there as in more external history, had not omission to see and assign spirit causes where spirit effects existed, forced the author to assume that heavy, effective cannon balls came forth from pop-guns, because he had not himself seen cannon in arsenals himself had not visited, and would take nobody's word for it that such had been available. For his own sake we are prone to wish that our personal friend had recognized that subsequent to the time of his early manhood, when he delivered and published Lectures upon Witchcraft, and pondered upon its producing agents and causes, phenomena, like the marvelous ones of former days, had been transpiring in great abundance all over our land, and that no less a man than Dr. Robert Hare, of Philadelphia, the correspondent and peer of Faraday, Silliman, and others of that class, had, by rigid and exact processes of physical science, actually _demonstrated_ that some occult force, moved by an intelligence that could and did understand and comply with verbal requests, repeatedly lifted and lowered the arms of scale-beams, and made bodies weigh more or weigh less than their normal weight, at his mental request. The same had been done by Dr. Luther V. Bell and a band of press reporters in 1857. Such forces, if taken into account by this historian, would have required a reconstruction and vast modifications of his long-cherished theory of explanation, and have called for an immense expenditure of labor and thought. Ease and retention of long-cherished notions are seductive to man. It was easier for the historian to ignore the discovery that natural laws or forces had always permitted unseen agents to come among us, whose workings the human brain had long, but unsatisfactorily, been laboring to trace to adequate causes,--easier to continue to assume that insufficient causes, lackered in glowing rhetoric, might answer a while longer,--easier to still hug the dream that little girls and young misses, mainly guileless and docile in all their previous days, could and did, without professional instruction and of a sudden, become proficients in the production of complicated schemes and feats rivaling and even surpassing the most astonishing ones of highest legerdemain, of jugglery, and of histrionic art combined,--easier to fancy that these girls rebelled against and set at defiance parental, medical, ministerial, and friendly authority, acted like brutes and villains, turned all things upside down with a vengeance, in the midst of a community clear headed and not easily befooled,--yes, it was easier to retain all these _outré_ suppositions than to set aside a pet theory and reconstruct history in conformity with requirements of discoveries which _others_ had made in advance of this historian, and by the use of which he could have furnished a truly philosophical and satisfactory solution of all the marvels of ancient witchcraft. Infatuation still lingers on the earth, blinding many bright eyes. We are hardly sorry that our friend ignored the actual and competent authors--indeed, we are nearly glad that he did so; for his course resulted in presentation of many important portions of New England witchcraft in very lucid, intelligible, and attractive combination, helped a vast many people to perception of the proximate nature and extent of strange things done here of old, and enabled the common mind to make pretty fair estimate of the nature of such forces as were needful to any agents who should perform such wonders. We cheerfully acknowledge great personal indebtedness to that author for such an exhibition of this subject as shows its mighty influence over sagacious, strong, calm, good, and able men who were living witnesses and actors in its scenes; and shows also that common sense will instinctively feel that the acts imputed to a few illiterate girls and misses were beyond the powers which nature by her usual and well-known processes ever bestowed upon them. Philosophy, science, and common sense demand causes adequate to produce whatever effects are ascribed to them. Histories of witchcraft have not met these demands. Previous failure in that respect prompts this effort to present agents whose powers may have been equal to the works performed in witchcraft scenes. The work in hand will necessitate a close grappling with many of our friend's opinions and processes. But our grip, however firm, will never be made in unkindness toward or want of respect for him; the object will be to disclose mistakes, to rescue our forefathers and their children in the seventeenth century out from under damaging, groundless, needless, gratuitous imputation of fatuity to the elders, and devilish ingenuity to the younger ones, and to permit the present and future ages to look back upon them with respect and sympathy. That author is still living, and long may he live in comfort and usefulness. His biography is not written; a brief outline of him, solely from this moment's recollections is here given. Not less that fifty years ago, we knew him as a student at Harvard,--afterward, for many years, as a respected and successful clergyman at Salem,--still later, in political office, especially as member of Congress,--and for many of the more recent years, as a student and author at home. He has commanded and retains our high respect. The scholar, rhetorician, statistician, fictionist, and dramatist, all blend harmoniously in him, give an uncommon charm to his "History of Salem Village," and render it a work which bespeaks wide and abiding interest with the public. It is no essential part of the philosopher's specific labors to discover or test new agents, forces, or facts. His dealings mostly are with facts known and admitted. Till one concedes the fact of spirit action upon persons and things in earth life, he cannot philosophically admit that spirit forces were ever employed in the production of any phenomenon, but must regard all as purely material or within the scope of ordinary human faculties. Therefore we can, perhaps, with propriety regard our friend as also a philosopher; but must add, that he either lacked knowledge of or ignored the agents and forces that produced many witchcraft phenomena which he attempted to elucidate, and many others of the same character which he failed to adduce from the earlier records; which agents and forces must be allowed their actual and full connection with their own effects before philosophy can furnish just, clear, and satisfactory solutions of their source and nature. MARGARET JONES. The great endemic witchcraft at Salem Village in 1692 has been extensively ascribed to the voluntary acts of a few girls and women, who are sometimes credited with having derived much knowledge from books, traditions, weird stories, and the like, and thus obtained hints and instructions whereby they were enabled to devise, and, acting upon the credulity and infatuation of their time, to enact, and did enact, that great and thrilling performance, without supermundane aid. Was it so? An examination of several sporadic cases which preceded that famous outburst of mysterious operations, may indicate strong need to assign many witchcraft manifestations to causes and forces lying off beyond the reach of man's ordinary faculties, for we perceive in them the operation of powers which he never acquired, nor can acquire, by reading, listening, or by any training processes. Hutchinson says, "The great noise which the New England witchcraft made throughout the English dominions proceeded more from the general panic with which all sorts of persons were seized, and an expectation that the contagion would spread to all parts of the country, than from the number of persons who were executed; more having been put to death in a single county in England in a short space of time, than have suffered in New England from the first settlement until the present time. Fifteen years had passed before we find any mention of witchcraft among the English colonists.... The first suspicion of witchcraft among the English was about the year 1645." We commence now an examination of several of the earlier cases, and begin with MARGARET JONES. There is extant, in the handwriting of the judge before whom she was tried, a summary of the evidence adduced against this woman, who, in 1648, was tried, condemned, and executed in Boston for the crime of witchcraft; and who thus became, so far as we now know, the first American victim in Christendom's carnal warfare against the devil. Unconsciously to herself surely, but yet in fact, she may have been, as we sometimes view her, America's first martyr to _Spiritualism_. The chief knowledge of this case now attainable is furnished by the Journal of Governor John Winthrop, who was both governor of the colony and chief judge of its highest court in 1648, and presided at the trial of Margaret Jones. His position on the bench gave him opportunity, and made it his duty, to know precisely what was charged, what testified, and what proved in the case. The character of that recorder is good voucher for an honest and candid statement as far as it goes. His record states that,-- "In 1648, one Margaret Jones, of Charlestown, was indicted and found guilty of witchcraft, and hanged for it. The evidence against her was, that she was found to have such a malignant touch, as many persons, men, women, and children, whom she stroked or touched with any affection or displeasure, or, &c., were taken with deafness, or vomiting, or other violent pains or sickness; that, practicing physic, and her medicines being such things as, by her own confession, were harmless, as anise-seed, liquors, &c., yet had extraordinary violent effects; that she used to tell such as would not make use of her physic, that they would never be healed, and accordingly their diseases and hurts continued, with relapses against the ordinary course, and beyond the apprehension of all physicians and surgeons; that things which she foretold came to pass accordingly; other things she could tell of, as secret speeches, &c., which she had no ordinary means to come to knowledge of; in the prison, in the clear daylight, there was seen in her arms, she sitting on the floor, and her clothes up, &c., a little child, which ran from her into another room, and the officer following it, it was vanished. The like child was seen in two other places to which she had relation; and one maid, that saw it, fell sick upon it, and was cured by the said Margaret, who used means to be employed to that end." Thus much was recorded by Winthrop in 1648. But the quantum of information relative to Margaret Jones which historic selection deemed needful for the public in 1764 had become very small, for at the latter date Hutchinson says (vol. i. p. 150), "The first instance I find of any person executed for witchcraft, was in June, 1648. Margaret Jones, of Charlestown, was indicted for a witch, found guilty, and executed. She was charged with having such a malignant touch that if she laid her hands upon man, woman, or child in anger, they were seized presently with deafness, vomiting, or other sickness, or some violent pains." Those few sharp lines comprise the whole of that historian's account of this case. He gives no hint that the woman was accused of anything but _a malignant touch_; therefore he falls long way short of fair presentation of the facts. He leaves entirely unnoticed the chief grounds for just inferences and conclusions. Whether that writer had access to Winthrop's record we do not know. But the historian Upham had, and he states (vol. i. p. 453), "The only real charge proved upon Margaret Jones was, that she was a successful practitioner, using only simple remedies." _The only charge proved!_ What can that mean? There surely were several other and much more marvelous and significant things just as clearly charged and "proved upon" her as was her successful use of simple remedies. The only thing _proved_! If that thing was proved, then the same document which teaches this, also teaches with equal distinctness that five or six other things were proved upon her; and the greater part of these others were difficult of solution by the philosophies of both the historians named above. Turn back to Winthrop's account, and see what was charged. 1. When she manipulated either man, woman, or child, some nausea, pain, or disease was forthwith engendered in the subject of her operations. 2. Her very simple medicines, viz., anise-seed and liquors produced extraordinary violent effects. 3. She told such as would not take her physic that they would never be healed; and accordingly their diseases and hurts continued, with relapses against the ordinary course. 4. Things which she foretold came to pass accordingly. 5. She could tell of secret speeches which she had no ordinary means to come to knowledge of. 6. While in prison, in the clear daylight, there was seen in her arms ... a little child ... which at the officer's approach ran and vanished. 7. The maid that fell sick at sight of that child "was cured by the said Margaret, who used means to be employed to that end." The _only_ charge _proved_? If it was proved that "she was a successful practitioner, using only simple remedies," then each one of the other six is just as clearly proved as her successful practice, and by the same document, too. But some of them are more difficult to account for on sadducean grounds, and were left unnoticed. Even the admitted marvel is put forth in distorted form, being so draped as to teach that the woman was a _successful_ medical practitioner, while the original record reads that her simples produced extraordinary _violent_ effects. No doubt she was in an important sense "a successful practitioner, using only simple remedies." But that is not what the testimony specially stated. The historic evidence is, that her simples produced "_violent effects_." Her fate teaches that the action of her simples was deemed diabolical. Is that idea conveyed in calling her a successful practitioner? No. The case of this woman is vastly more instructive than it has been deemed by former expounders; and since, in its varied features and aspects, it presents many interesting points, we shall dwell upon it at considerable length. Nothing has been met with in her history which conflicts with supposition that she and her husband, perhaps in or below the middle ranks of society, were laboring for a livelihood amid a clear-headed, sagacious, hardy, industrious community, which had resided twenty years around the mouth of the Charles without any startling witchcraft among them, or any teachers of that art, (?) or skillful co-operators in its practice. Something induced her to lay hands upon and administer simple medicines to the pained, the sick, or the wounded. Whence the impulse? We can hardly suppose that she had studied medicine. A nurse she may have been--very likely had been--and perhaps had become conscious of ability to relieve sufferings and disease, and may have been known by her neighbors to be willing to practice the healing art. Obviously they became accustomed to submit themselves to her manipulations and medical treatment quite extensively, and at length were astonished at the extreme efficacy of her hands, and the sometimes _violent_ action of her simple medicines. So extraordinary were the effects of her labors that the neighborhood became suspicious that an obnoxious _one from below_ was her helper, and therefore she was arrested on suspicion of witchcraft. What persons would be summoned into court to testify concerning her when such was the charge? Her patients promiscuously? No. Only such among them as had, or as would swear that they had, received suffering or annoyance under her treatment. Search would be made for harm only, and not for any good which she had done. More moral courage and strength than are common would be needed to induce those not summoned, and who had nothing but good which they could say of her operations, to try to get upon the witness stand where witchcraft was the alleged offense. All the testimony, either sought, or given, was, no doubt, intended to bear against her; and yet it comes to our view that the sickened maid "was cured by the said Margaret, who used means to be employed to that end." Beneficence as well as "murder will out" sometimes. The various powers manifested through her are worthy of separate examination. 1. _When she manipulated either man, woman, or child, some nausea, pain, or disease was forthwith engendered in the subject of her operations._ That is the only crime which Hutchinson seems to have found laid to her charge; it is the only one he puts to the credit of her persecutors, and thus he leaves them heavily indebted on humanity's ledger. If the testimony were not mainly sheer fabrication, some extraordinary efficacy went forth from her imposed hands, and apparently on many different occasions, too; for the account stating that effects were similar upon men, women, and children, indicates that she was an extensive operator. Mesmer had not then made his discoveries. But the powers always resided in living forms which he detected and measurably learned to educe and control. Margaret Jones's system may have been a very powerful magnetic battery, controlled sometimes by her own will, sometimes moved by and giving passage-way to impersonal magnetic forces, and sometimes also used by that intelligence outside of man which Agassiz and Brown-Séquard say (see Appendix) can operate through his organism. Both intensification and mitigation of pains, diseases, and the forces of medicines are credible results from her manipulations. As said before, only those portions of the primitive document which relate to the efficacy of her hands and her simples, drew forth comments from the historians; they also failed to set forth a tithe of the significance which was involved in the little they did attempt to unfold. Such action of hands and very simple medicines upon the systems of men, women, and children is not satisfactorily accounted for either by ascribing it, as one did, to the anger of the operating woman, nor, as the other did, to the simple medicines acting normally. Such causes could never have produced effects competent to so startle an intelligent and firm-nerved community as to make them charge this practitioner with diabolism, and seek her execution. The implied infatuation and credulity of a generation which could be roused to such barbarity by such insignificant causes is a most defamatory impeachment of the sagacity, manhood, and humaneness of our forefathers. Our witchcraft expounders, we apprehend, have allowed themselves to sacrifice very much that was bright and noble in the past, on the altar of false assumption that modern scientists, or at least that their own wise historic intellects, have explored all the recesses of broad nature, and positively determined that no forces can anywhere exist by which supermundane acts can legitimately be brought to the cognizance of man. The merits of the fathers are darkened, that the arrogance of the children may be labeled Wisdom. Many men of no mean intellects have admitted that a spirit once came forth from a man "and leaped" on the seven exorcist sons of one Sceva, "and overcame them, and prevailed against them, so that they fled out of that house naked and wounded." The mind which believes that record ought to be in condition to admit that possibly spirits could throw forth power through the hands of such as Margaret Jones which would produce pains, nausea, and disease in those whom the mediums touched, provided the spirits desired such results. It was no unprecedented event in kind, if, through her, some unseen force tortured the bodies of any who, as spies, enemies, mimickers, or rivals, sought an imposition of her hands; not new that torturing sensations should be produced when the magnetisms of the operator and subject were as alkali and acid to each other; nor new that her own spirit of resentment for wrongs either received or foresensed, thus operated. But favor too might often induce either her or a spirit through her to produce _violent effects_ at first, unless our doctors prescribe emetics and cathartics in unkindness or malice. Read the following statement, which I have just written down from the lips of a neighbor whom I have known well for nearly or quite ten years, and whose truthfulness is as complete as that of any other one whatsoever in the whole circle of my acquaintances:-- "In the autumn of 1869, a woman in South Boston who knew me, advised one of her neighbors who was sick of fever to send for me and receive treatment by my hands. The patient's husband, a robust mechanic, had little faith in helpful efficacy from 'laying on of hands.' Still, curiosity or some other motive induced him and three other men to observe my processes and their effects. They witnessed very marked contractions of the sick woman's muscles, and many spasmodic movements of her limbs. When I ceased working upon my patient, her husband said, 'Do you suppose you can affect _me_ in the same way?' My reply was, 'I don't know--probably not; but if you desire me to try, I will.' 'Yes,' said he, 'try.' 'Sit down, then, sir, in the chair where your wife sat.' He did so, and I operated for a short time without perceptible effect, but was soon impressed to say to him, 'Strike me on the small of the back,'--simultaneously placing my back so that he could give it a fair, hard blow, which he was by no means unwilling to inflict. After his first stroke I called out, 'Harder!' After the second, '_Harder!_' After the third, he was instantly cramped up, his arms were hugged in upon and across his chest, the muscles on them were much enlarged, intensely hardened, and not obedient to his will, and he lustily begged, 'Let me down! let me down! let me down!' while the other men, the sick wife, and myself laughed till we were exhausted. I had no will in producing, nor any design to effect any such results. "J. W. CROSBY. "BOSTON, April 30, 1874." 2. The testimony indicates that her _very simple medicines, such as anise-seed and liquors, produced extraordinary violent effects_. This is credible. Extraordinary effects were produced by magnetized handkerchiefs in the days of Paul, and to-day, even pure water, placed beneath the hands of some peculiar mediums, or beneath the tips of their fingers, sometimes absorbs or is made to manifest the medicinal properties of wine, ipecac, or of other substances desired; and such mediums are often very "successful practitioners using only simple remedies." The action of what they administer need not be psychological in any proper sense of that term: that is, the patient need not be informed, nor have suspicion, that the water is medicated thus; though any persons upon whom the action is very perceptible, probably, must be constitutionally mediumistic. By personal observation we have learned that water may be so medicated by unseen infusion from unseen source, as to taste like, and operate like, either ipecac or wine, according to the properties which some unseen intelligence to whom needs are transparent, and who can sicken or refresh at pleasure, has gathered from the atmosphere or elsewhere and infused into that water. When public vigilance had been roused to suspicion around this woman, it is not improbable that many persons, belligerent devil-ward, sought a test of her powers, and that some of them (susceptible ones) felt or drank in what caused "deafness, or vomiting, or other pains or sickness"--not improbable that on some of them her simples had "_violent_ effects." Persons thus affected would make up nearly the whole class from whom witnesses at her trial would be selected. If she had been generally a producer of only pains and sickness, her practice would soon have dwindled to nothing, and she would have lived on without molestation. "A successful practitioner," simply as such, would never have been arraigned. Upham detected the significant fact in the case, that her simple remedies were so efficacious as to make her a successful practitioner; yes;--but was simply successful medical practice the chief reason why her neighbors charged diabolism? What amount of success in alleviating the sufferings that flesh is heir to would invoke public vengeance? How much beneficence did one then need to perform before public sentiment, would reprobate its author? Could such faculties and agents alone as are normally and ordinarily used, enable a woman to achieve such success in curing diseases, healing wounds, and alleviating pains, as to arouse an intelligent and religious community to arrest and try her for a capital offense against the well-being of society? Never. Did the historian notice his own back-handed imputation of atrocious diabolism upon the population of Charlestown when he led his readers to infer that they persecuted one of their number unto an ignominious death, solely because "she was a successful practitioner using only simple remedies"? Whether he saw it or not, his explanation made her neighbors take the life of this woman because of the good works she had done among them. Some theory of explanation which will exempt us from the necessity of assenting to gratuitous aspersions of the sagacity and sentiments of justice pertaining to our ancestry in the mass, is very desirable. Margaret Jones was a very successful _healing medium_, and therefore her works were mysteries. Having noticed the only two allegations in this case which the historians have deemed worthy of specification or had courage to adduce, and having seen that Hutchinson ascribed her persecution to her own anger flowing out through her hands, while Upham ascribed it to her great success as a healer, we will just note the fact that the former historian generally indicated an abiding apprehension that those who _were persecuted_ for the crime in question, were the parties most to be blamed; while the latter, oftener than otherwise, throws the chief blame upon the _persecutors_. In this instance the earlier historian makes her anger,--a trait which is blamable,--while the latter makes her beneficence,--a commendable characteristic,--the chief exciting cause to her condemnation and execution. We proceed to examine other original charges more difficult to solve plausibly on the hypotheses of Hutchinson and Upham than were anger and successful medical practice; charges not amenable to any philosophy entertained by those expounders. 3. "_She used to tell such as would not make use of her physic that they would never be healed; and, accordingly, their diseases and hurts continued; with relapses against the ordinary course_," &c. It is very common in our day for clairvoyance to see, or--more broadly and instructively--it is common for mediumistic faculties to _sense_ and feel sure, that the existing tendency of a patient's disease will soon terminate in death, if not checked by some peculiar medicinal agent, often a spiritual one, or one medicated by spirits, which ordinary physicians are ignorant of, will not prescribe, and cannot obtain. The evidence which Judge Winthrop reports, shows that "the diseases and hurts" of recusants to take her prescriptions, not only continued to remain unhealed, but underwent such changes and relapses as physicians and surgeons could not understand. Since such things occurred in accordance with her predictions, we here perceive strong evidence that the woman possessed uncommon susceptibilities for _sensing_ coming results. _It is just as clearly proved_ that she foretold specific events, as it is that her touch was malignant, and her practice successful. Her marvelous prescience, which was one of her conspicuous powers, the historians failed to set forth. Their philosophy, founded only on such materials as are recognized in man's physical sciences, was too narrow to embrace occult natural agents and forces by which such prescient powers could be drawn or put forth through some human organisms and produce marvelous results. Therefore those expounders let such facts remain undisturbed in the rarely visited closets where they have long reposed. 4. _Things which she foretold came to pass accordingly._ That is, events verified her predictions, and thus proved her exercise of marvelously prophetic powers. Should one assume that her verified predictions were only skillful or lucky guesses, would such assumption be fair and just toward the people who, as living witnesses on the spot, could know what the things were which she foretold, and know also with what accuracy they were fulfilled, and yet deemed them genuine prophecies? Her accusers could know the facts, while we, in the main, must be ignorant of them. We cannot reasonably deny that the direct observers actually discerned the exercise of genuinely prophetic powers by her. Some mortals at times can prophesy; for both in ancient prophetic and apostolic times, and in our own age, many people have been and are known to do it. Eternal laws or forces lead some mortals to sure knowledge of coming events. History and returning spirits both so teach. "The spirit of prophecy has its source in infinite truth, and is as much a part of infinite law as any other manifestation of life; therefore it has a wise and powerful protection; and they who avail themselves of this spirit of prophecy, _by virtue of the way and manner in which they are physically and spiritually compounded_, if they are fortunate enough to place themselves in harmonious relations to the law, fail not in prophesying. But if, as is often the case, they unfortunately place themselves in inharmonious relations to the law, they must, of necessity, fail in part, if not entirely. It is a truthful saying, that 'coming events cast their shadows before.' _These shadows_ (?) _are, in reality, portions of the events_; these shadows take precedence of the material birth of all events as they are understood by mortals; they are the basis of that which you receive, and outlast that which you receive; they are the infinite part. Now, then, there are some persons _so constituted_ that they perceive these shadows (?) and can judge as accurately concerning what they predict, as the learned astronomer can concerning an eclipse."--_Spirit_, _Prof. Alexander M. Fisher, of Yale._ BANNER OF LIGHT, Jan. 30, 1875. 5. "_She could tell of secret speeches which she had no ordinary means to come to knowledge of._" At times, then, she was clairaudient, or was one of those sensitives whose spiritual organs of sensation are at times so disentangled from their material ones, that she experienced a practical annihilation of space and gross matter, which let her, as all unclogged spirits may, be practically present with and listeners to any person anywhere, to whom she was for any reason attracted, and with whom she came into rapport. Conditions admitting cognizance of the thoughts and words of the absent in body are now of daily occurrence with men, women, and children not a few, and therefore were possible with Margaret Jones in 1648 and years preceding. A letter from Captain Densmore, on a future page of this work, will show recent possession of power to bear the voices of living persons whose bodies were very far distant from the hearer. 6. "_While in the prison in the clear daylight there was seen in her arms ... a little child ... which, at the officer's approach, ran and vanished._" _Vanished_; that word intimates that it was a spectral or spirit child--perhaps her own departed one. By whom was it seen? By an officer of the prison, and therefore by one not likely to be her confederate in attempt at imposture. Not by him only; for a chambermaid also saw the little one, and was made sick by the sight; which effect argues against her having had any complicity in a trick. That testimony to such occurrences was given in court, is vouched for by Winthrop, and must have been, or surely should have been, read by subsequent historians. Their adroitness at leaving certain classes of facts in undisturbed obscurity, nearly rivals the cunning of agents to whom they impute the origin and production of witchcraft manifestations. The visible presence of that evanescent child shows very clearly that Mrs. Jones was endowed with some of the rarer and exceptional properties of mediumship--that she possessed those special elements in the midst of which spirits could be robed in such materialized encasements, that material eyes could discern them. Angels looking and acting like men (Gen. xviii.) were seen by Abraham and Lot. One was seen (Judg. xiii.) by Manoah and his wife. Another by Tobias, son of Tobit (Apoc.); another by disciples who were walking toward Emmaus (John xx.); others also by thousands of individuals in various ages and nations, sporadically. To-day, distinct perception of materialized spirits in the presence of Mrs. Andrews at Moravia, N. Y., around Dr. Slade of New York city, and many others are reported almost weekly, and are well attested. In these modern instances, generally, some special, though simple, pre-arrangements are made to facilitate such manifestations; but we may very reasonably doubt whether anything of the kind was resorted to by Mrs. Jones, because, being in prison charged with the awful crime of witchcraft, the presumption is imperative that she must have lacked both means and opportunity to command tangible apparatus either for helping on a genuine spirit manifestation, or producing an optical illusion upon her keepers. _Mortal._ "How do spirits materialize?" _Spirit._ "You must know the atmosphere is full of particles of matter. Everything that is in the human body is also in the atmosphere in fine particles. Darkness renders these particles more quiescent, and hence more easily managed by spirits. The spirit has a will point or center which is a spark of the Divine Nature. When the condition of the atmosphere, of the medium, and of the circle is proper, the spirit exerts that will power, and, in accordance with natural law, _attracts to its spirit form_ the floating particles in the air, and they condense upon and interpenetrate the spirit form or body so as to materialize it, making bone, muscle, skin, hair--every part, and making the spirit body, for the time being, a solid, palpable one. The air contains an immense amount of matter which can be used by spirits for materializing. We do not, however, usually materialize the blood.... We have to draw a portion of the substance for materialization from the medium, he being a kind of reservoir where we concentrate our supplies, and it is much more difficult to draw from him when at a distance, therefore we keep near him."--_Spirit. Disc., as reported by H A. Buddington._ BANNER OF LIGHT, Feb. 6, 1875. A case of much interest and significance was reported to the Boston Post, a daily newspaper, by a correspondent under date of Newburyport, Jan. 13, 1873. Therein is furnished an account of a spirit boy showing himself in broad daylight, several times, on different occasions, at a window between an entry and a school-room, to a band of children and their teacher; also of his making a disturbing racket in an unfinished attic over them occasionally for many successive months. Miss Perkins, the teacher, says, "He is a little fellow, about eleven years old, with a pale face, and the saddest, sweetest mouth that she ever saw in her life, looking fearlessly up into her face out of a pair of blue eyes. He retreated into a corner. She followed him, and just as she was about to lay her hand upon him he vanished. No door had been opened, and yet he was gone." The account states that Miss Perkins, "though no spiritualist, is convinced that it" (the racket) "is all produced by supernatural agency, and believes that the apparition she saw was a veritable ghost." The editor of the Springfield Republican probably consulted the teacher of that school, Miss Lucy A. Perkins, as to the correctness of the foregoing, and perhaps other accounts, which had become public, for she wrote to him, and he published as follows:-- "The account you sent me is true, with a few exceptions. When I first saw the boy, he was neatly attired in a _brown_ suit of clothes, trimmed with braid and buttons of the same color. When I reached forward to grasp him, he seemed not like the boy, but vapory, or, as I can only describe it, like a thin cloud scudding across the room; still he seemed to have the boy form. Reports from some of the Boston papers say I fainted; such is not the case. I knew where I was and what I was about just as well as I know I am writing. "One day I sent a boy out to hang up the brushes, &c.... He was out about five minutes. After he had taken his seat, three raps came on the door of the room where the brushes were hung. He said, 'Miss Perkins, can I go out and see who's there?' I told him, 'Yes, and leave the school-room door open.' He did so, and when he opened the brush-room door (I sat where I could see all) every one of the brushes, both long and short handled, came falling off the nails where they were hung; some struck him on the shoulders, and the broom directly on the top of his head. The dust-pan, hanging on a nail at some distance above the brushes, came tumbling to the floor with a vengeance. It then stood on its handle, then on the bottom edge, and continued on so till it entered the school-room, and then it was placed as nicely against the partition as if I had done it myself. Just as soon as I'd raise the ventilator, a black ball, like a cannon ball, would begin to roll around the attic, and make such a noise I would be obliged to lower the ventilator. One day the room was quiet as it possibly could be, and all at once some one in the attic called out, 'Dadie Pike!' Dadie thought I spoke, and said, 'What'm?' I said to him, 'Can you say your lesson?' "Since the boy affair took place, the attic has been fastened up; locks and keys are of no use, however, for there is as much walking up stairs, and sometimes the hammering and nailing. Once in a while, sounds as of some one walking will come down the attic way, go across the entry, and open the outside door, and be gone perhaps ten minutes; after it is quiet again, the door will open, and he, she, or it will go up stairs.... I am not a spiritualist; never attended a sitting, in fact, never had anything to do with a person of that belief, and never saw any manifestations. Why anything of the sort should take place where I am, is more than I can account for." This case, wherein a teacher and her two score pupils simultaneously saw a spirit in broad daylight, day after day and week after week, argues very forcibly that "the nature of things" permits admission that the testimony relating to the spirit child in the jail may be literally true. Laws and forces are now frequently indicating their existence, which permit the observable presence of spirits. Intense yearnings for comfortings, sympathy, and support in her dark and trying hour, as well as other causes, may have drawn an angel child--her own or some other--to the arms of Margaret Jones, whose history reveals her possession of peculiar susceptibilities and mediumistic properties; and with her as a reservoir, materialization of the spirit may have been accomplished. 7. The sickened maid "was cured by the said Margaret, who used means to be employed to that end." Kindness and skill successfully put forth to heal the sick, even while the public was keeping her in a felon's cell, hang as a luminous cloud over her head, and betoken something good in her--betoken the possible source of something different from a malignant touch--yes, of "genuinely successful medical practice." We know little of her character; there is no impeachment of it in the recorded testimony. Her peculiar powers resulted, no doubt, from peculiar innate formations of and connections between her outer and inner organisms, and had little dependence upon intellectual or moral qualities. Not her own holiness, nor any other common power of hers, enabled her to either intensify or abate painful sensations. Whether sinner or saint was the more prominent in her character, our course and views have no occasion to inquire. Winthrop's comments say that "her behavior at her trial was very intemperate; lying notoriously and railing upon the jury and witnesses;... in the like distemper she died." He gives no particulars, and therefore furnishes no grounds on which we may judge whether any of her statements which seemed to him false, might not seem to us, at our different stand-point of observation, to have been true. Very many perfectly true utterances made by mediums to-day relative to their involuntary and even unconscious putting forth of acts and words imputed to them, would be deemed lies by all common interpreters who are ignorant of the part often performed by or through that higher set of mental powers which our leading scientists have lately discovered are at the service of intellect not our own. Perhaps she lied; perhaps, too, she was truthful, but misunderstood. Intemperance in her behavior, no doubt, was manifest. But that might spring from various motives. Any spirited person, consciously innocent of a charged offense, and possessing only moderate power of self-control and moderate intellectual stamina, would be very likely to pour forth warm language, and flat and forceful denials of allegations of wrong-doing. Persecuted innocence was only a very little less likely--if at all less--than ill temper or "distemper," to call forth what might seem to be "railing upon the jury and witnesses." Neither severe language nor "intemperate behavior" is necessarily derogatory to any one's prevailing temper or character, when rushing forth from the lips and limbs of one whose deeds are being so misinterpreted that beneficence is looked upon as diabolism, and whose beneficent works are being made to draw down upon their author an ignominious death. Possibly words from her lips, and behavior seemingly prompted by her emotions, were manifestations of the thoughts and impulses of some other intelligence than herself. If so, most scathing rebukes for her persecution, and for thirstings for her blood, might fall thick and heavy upon the ears of benighted jurors and blinded witnesses. Observation has often noticed most terrific outflowings of denunciations upon blind guides, through organs of speech not controlled by their reputed owner. Felix is not the last person who has trembled under the lashings of inspiration. An acting out through her form, by another intelligence, a deep sense of wrong she had received, may have made her seem as mad in the eyes of Winthrop, as the learning and forceful utterances of Paul did him in those of Festus. Evidence produced at her trial shows that Margaret Jones correctly foretold the course of diseases in the systems of those who declined her prescriptions--that she foretold other "things which came to pass accordingly"--that she learned the purport of conversations by the absent or secluded--that a spirit child became visible in her auras--and that the sickened maid was cured by her appliances. Each and all of these very marvelous manifestations were just as distinctly and authentically recorded on paper still extant, as were those less rare ones which have been put forth as fair indices of the case. Such blinking out of sight the most important things pertaining to the person who, as far as is now known, was first on this side the Atlantic to be executed for witchcraft, is unjust to culture and philosophy, which should be furnished with all known facts; is unjust to the fathers, whose full basis for her prosecution and execution should be set forth ere just judgment of their doings can be formed; and is unjust to her whose transcendent powers and effective labors for healing the sick may have been the main cause why minds deluded by a false and frenzying creed devil-ward, were impelled on to barbarously destroy one who had been and might have continued to be their benefactress. She was a natural conduit from the inner to the outer world, through which perhaps impersonal force at times might cause supernal knowledge and power to come into her outer being; through which again, her own will might suction such, while at other times unseen persons might inject them through from their abodes, and even come themselves to aid her in their application. Nothing harmful was charged against her, excepting what seemed to be, and were believed to be, superhuman abilities. The power that formed her originally, implanted and developed within her organism unusual capabilities for curing physical disease, for reading the future, and hearing the distant. There is neither evidence nor foundation for a conjecture that she was ever pupil of teachers of medical science, or of jugglery, nor that she belonged to any mesmerically developing circle. Her acts cannot well have been mere imitations of what she had seen others do, or had read or heard of having been done. She had no teachers, no confederates that were visible and tangible. Indeed, who among men could possibly have taught or helped her to prophesy correctly, to hear the far distant, or to embody a spirit child? Not one--not one. Such performances were only natural evolutions from her inborn faculties, when acted upon by spirit forces or agents, or both. The reader is asked how these manifestations, through our first martyr to it, can _possibly_ be explained on the hypothesis that witchcraft was nothing else than the histrionic tricks of sprightly and cunning children, either singly or in combination with the ingenuities and malignities of old women. Such agents, unaided from out the unseen, were most clearly incompetent to project into human view some phenomena which attended upon this consternating seer, hearer, healer, and holder of properties for materializing a spirit form so as to render it visible. What possible facts or considerations could have induced the humane, intelligent, virtuous, and religious community in which she lived, to seek the life of such a woman, moving, probably, in humble sphere, but, in the main, a doer of good works? The question brings up a complex and difficult problem, viz., How can the seeming stupidity and inhumanity of our fathers be reconciled with their obvious intelligence and humaneness? Assuming the record of testimony given in court to be correct--and why should we not?--the manifestations through and around Margaret Jones clearly indicated the outworking there of some abilities which the bodies and ordinary mental powers of embodied human beings do not possess. What then? Some unseen power must have helped her. What unseen power? Yes, _what_ unseen power? Experience as then interpreted--religious creeds as then understood--science and philosophy as they then existed--all conspired to give one and the same answer, viz., _The Devil_. That conclusion from the witnessed facts was then inevitable. The devil helped her. What next? The devil could help no one who had not previously entered into a covenant with him, and he surely helped this woman. Therefore she had made a covenant with him, and in making that she became a _witch_. The law of God which binds Christians says, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Thus our forefathers saw and reasoned. Steps from facts to the conclusion were few, short, and plain. Feeble intellects _could_ take them, and strong ones _must_ do so, or reject their life-long creeds. Then a crucial hour was upon them. To distrust and disregard their credal faith or stifle their humanity, one or the other, was the hard alternative presented to strong, good men. Their cherished creed or Margaret Jones, one or the other, must be sacrificed. Which? Clear heads and life-long affections grasped the creed firmly, and resolved to save it. They let Logic draw her rigid conclusions, and put them forth as rules for individual and public action. Sympathy went down before dominant faith, and man stifled every rebellious emotion. God's call and law, Christian men then felt, were paramount to sympathy. In submission to what they deemed Heaven's will and call they said, "Down, humaneness--down! Up, God-derived Faith--up, in your majesty and might! Heart must follow whither you lead." Their awful and cramping _Creed devil-ward_ was the chief fountain of bewildering and brutalizing force that dragged intelligent and kind men on to redden our soil with innocent blood, and that too "in all good conscience." Look closely at their position. The faith of all ages and nations had held that occurrences which seemed to result from supermundane force were produced by disembodied intelligences. Protestant Christendom was extensively holding that no invisible beings, excepting their Great Monstrous Monk-made Devil (see Appendix) and his obedient servants, could by any possibility work upon the bodies and possessions of men. And none such could work upon the external world in any other way than through, or by the aid of, such mortals as had voluntarily made a covenant with him. Such covenant once formed, the person making it would be an open door through which his fearful Majesty, or any imp of his, could freely enter the outer world and vent his malignity upon all the region far and wide around his entrance-place. Her works proved to the intellect of that day that this Margaret had covenanted to let him enter and co-operate with her. What, therefore, must be done? It was manifest to the people of Charlestown that through her the great invisible cloven-foot had found entrance, and was prowling among them. What was their duty? They must bar his entrance promptly. To do it, they arrested, tried, condemned, and executed the Christian traitor who had furnished their great enemy entrance to the Christian fortress. Could firm, true men, holding then prevalent beliefs, have done less? That prisoner was put to trial before judge, jury, and a public who each and all held the then common creed throughout all Protestant Christendom which is set forth in our Appendix. Witnesses swore that she accurately foretold the effects of medical treatment and other events; that she heard speeches by persons far remote from her; that a spectral child was seen in her presence; that her hands and simples wrought marvels,--therefore, how could jurors avoid conviction that the devil helped her? There was no spectral testimony in this case; outer senses of many persons had learned her supermundane powers. The nature of the testimony was unexceptionable, and its purport distinct and conclusive. The prevalent faith imperatively demanded that the verdict should be--_guilty_. The clear, strong faith of that day, in whomsoever it conjoined with good conscience and courage, put forth mighty power to persuade the good citizen and good man that high duty was calling upon him to gird on heavenly armor and fight for the destruction of this minion and colleague of the devil, even at the smothering of kindlier sentiments in his heart. She was _witch_, and therefore must die. Was that a _deluded_ court, representative of a _deluded_ people, which condemned Margaret Jones to "hang high on the gallows-tree"? No doubt it was. Delusion led not only our fathers here, but all Christendom, on to deeds of shameful bloodshed. Witchcraft itself, as a whole, is now by most people deemed a "_dark delusion_." But which, among the human faculties, did that delusion spell-bind, stultify, and make sanguinary? Were the external senses of a whole community so disordered that the character and dimensions of sensible acts were grossly misapprehended? No. The circumstances amid which the early colonists lived, were certainly as well fitted to sharpen, discipline, and give reliability to the external senses as those which wait upon their descendants in the present century. Whatever eyes saw, ears heard, or touch felt in 1648, was reported to the mind then as accurately as the same senses can report to-day. Witchcraft phenomena were not the fictions of deluded _senses_. Did that delusion dominate those mental faculties which clothe in words and report what the senses had learned, and derange them so effectually that they would put forth even under oath distorting and exaggerated accounts of facts which the senses had witnessed? We think not. Distrust of the truthfulness and discrimination of ancient unknown witnesses, founded mainly upon the marvelousness of facts they swore to knowledge of, is not a basis that either candor or justice can deem sufficient to sustain a charge that their testimony was misleading. Wherein lurks anything which indicates that the witnesses in this case stated anything that was not substantially true? If anywhere, it is probably in modern incredulity that spirits ever colabor with or act upon men. If the time shall come--and there now exist signs that it is near--when the cultured world shall learn that _science_ has been unwittingly _generating delusion_ by failing to detect and regard the existence of certain occult agents and forces which play important parts in scenes of nature and human society, then a greatly modified opinion concerning the truth of testimony evoked in witchcraft times may prevail throughout the enlightened world. The signs of to-day make it prudent, kind, and just to conceive that ancient _witnesses_ were quite as truthful and discriminating as modern elucidators of remote transactions have generally been. Were the faculties of jurors and judges for comprehending the accuracy, force, and tendency of testimony, and for logically deducing conclusions from proved facts, so deluded as that the whole court, without a misgiving, convicted either on false testimony or illogically? Candor must hesitate to say yes--especially in a case where such a man as Governor Winthrop sat upon the bench. He and his associates in the court may have been as free from any delusion that impaired or perverted their powers of discrimination, or for logical inferences from facts, as any court that has adjudicated since their day. The absolute cruelty and injustice of their verdict and sentence, however, do indicate delusion of some faculties; but not of the senses; not of the capacities to speak truth, and "nothing but the truth;" not of the capacities to sift evidence and to reason logically--not of these. Their faculties for receiving, containing, holding on to, and obeying an inherited FAITH were the _deluded_ ones. In common with all Christendom the convictors of witches had been deluded into adoption, or at least retention, of a woful creed concerning the devil. At that time public sentiment in most countries on the continent of Europe, and also in both Old and New England, demanded rigid enforcement of all laws which that false, mischief-working creed had engendered and recorded in statute-books. Such laws were plain and imperative; both jurors and judges, suppressing sentiment, must yield to logic--must convict and sentence. By no other course could they be true to their convictions of duty toward society around them, or toward God on high. Yes; an imported monastic-born FAITH, unnatural, erroneous, and more than barbarous, deluded kind and good men to feel that they must suppress sympathy, ignore their tender impulses, benumb their hearts, and, whither God's voice was believed to call, go forward in stern, agonizing resolve to thrust a devil-helped worker, however good and estimable in outward seeming, to where the wicked one could do them and theirs no mischief through that mortal ally. Such was the logical and stern demand of the old deluding and heart-curbing creed. Do we wonder in our day how such monstrous faith could ever have obtained and kept both an abiding hold and controlling authority in any clear head that was joined to a kindly heart? Seeds of faith get lodgment in the human brain while it is yet too young to understand or even try to test the nature and quality of what falls upon it. Whatever the church and public believe, and have believed through a long past, is ever dropping its own seed into opening minds, which forthwith germinates therein. This sends its roots deep into virgin soil, grows with vigor there, and becomes fruitful of the same old faith during that very early portion of life in which the infantile questioning, analyzing, and reasoning faculties are scarce able to doubt the soundness or excellence of what thence has grown and matured in close alliance with themselves. Faith's right and fitness to define duty, and the child's obligation to execute its requirements, are usually conceded by all the other faculties. The truer and better the man, the more surely will he carry out his faith to its logical demands, even though, Abraham like, he have to lay his dearest on the altar of sacrifice, to lift the knife, and nerve himself to plunge it into his own child's heart, unless some voice from on high, more potent than previous faith, shall bid him hold. Few other than strong men and true, conscious of being soldiers in heaven's army, would march resolutely to the Devil's living and shotted guns, purposing to destroy them; for their destruction was instinct with, and inseparable from, anguish to Christian neighbors and friends. Extremists alone would do that. None midway between vile demons and men of high faith in God would voluntarily meet that ordeal. We do not regard _all_ the active prosecutors and convictors of witches as having been actuated by well-defined faiths and high principles. When popular furor sets strongly in any direction, the thoughtless, the unprincipled, the cruel, the malicious, join in the rush, and some such often become conspicuous and heartless agents in confounding confusion and in executing public decrees. Still, nearly all eminent men of both Europe and America--the leading divines, jurists, and civilians, the men of culture and of influence--believed that witchcraft and the witchcraft devil existed, and that witches should be detected and punished by the processes and laws then deemed applicable in such cases. Therefore, the mass of the people, however ignorant, thoughtless, or rash, when detecting and punishing witches, were only hastening to effect by rough processes and expeditiously, no more than the learned, more orderly, and patient would have felt constrained to accomplish, in the end, from a firm conviction of duty. Good faith and conscientious regard for the public weal actuated and sustained all those "solid men of Boston" and its vicinity, who were the real bones, sinews, and muscles which brought the devil's seeming helper to the gallows. Whether this impressible and unfolded woman was literally aided in any of her marvelous operations by invisible _intelligences_ may be debatable. It is possible that forces subject to no will but her own, and not even to that at all times, may have passed from her into other persons, which relieved some and agonized others extensively. Medication of her simples may have been mainly their natural absorption of elements residing in her system, or which were naturally attracted into and through that peculiar system. Her correct perceptions of the future action of remedies prescribed by either herself or others, and of the future course and result of diseases, may have been obtained by her own inner faculties when partially and transiently disentangled from her outer ones, and sensing in knowledge from the hidden realm of causes. So too she may have been at times so nearly a freed spirit, that she could by her own perceptives accurately sense coming events, and hear the words of far distant speakers. We refrain from denying the possibility that such auras resided in, emanated from, and surrounded her body, that a spirit child coming within them was by natural impersonal forces there rendered visible to external optics. It is possible there was no phenomenon in this case that must be called _spiritual_, excepting the mere _advent_ of the child--not its visibility, but its _advent_. If the child was there, then a spirit was there, and it was a case of Spiritualism. All this is possible; but we ask whether it is probable that all works seeming to be hers were produced by blind natural forces and her own will and powers solely? To this our own answer is an emphatic NO. The presence of the child gives force to that response. If one spirit came to her, others could have come. The old records are nearly or quite devoid of information relating to the intelligence, character, and social position of Margaret Jones. She was wife of Thomas Jones, who, soon after her execution, took passage on board a vessel for Barbadoes. We have met with no indication that they had children--with nothing which alludes to his age, occupation, or standing in society. We find her a practicer of the healing art; but at what age, or amid what worldly circumstances, is all unknown. Bunker Hill and its circumjacent slopes and lowlands have close connection with the earlier stages of two American conflicts for freedom. There lived, and from thence was taken to prison and the gallows, the first American martyr in a war whose end, obtained forty-four years later at Salem Village, was Christendom's mental emancipation from deluding and dwarfing bondage to a more than savage creed. True, the aggressive hosts--the prosecutors for witchcraft--were ignorant and unsuspicious of the far-reaching purposes of the divinity that shaped their ends, that beheld and ruled over their blind violence, and made them, all unconsciously and undesignedly, mortally rend a monster-creed whose demands they were slavishly and blindly complying with, and thus, without knowledge of it on their part, procuring for themselves, their children, and all future Christians, new freedom and new incentives for independent speculations and conclusions regarding all matters both demonological and theological. A nightmare of centuries was thrown off from disturbed and horrified Christendom at Salem, and each cramped sufferer could thenceforth draw breath more freely, and commence processes of recuperation and expansion. The case of Margaret Jones is isolated. It has no traceable connection with any kindred one which either preceded or followed it. Still its origin was in the abiding-place of forces and operators acting invisibly upon the external world, and amidst which all genuine witchcraft, miracle, and Spiritualism have been born. Her case must be catalogued among the marvelous, though the proving of the nature and character of her offense, erroneously so called, was unattended by the absurdities and cruelties which attach to many cases where spectral evidence was admitted, and barbarous processes were resorted to for extorting a plea to an indictment. As a witchcraft trial, hers was exceptionally inoffensive to modern views of propriety. The testimony throughout was based on experiences and observations by external senses, and would be admissible in any court and any age. The extra-common powers or susceptibilities of the accused were clearly proved. Therefore the monstrous creed which then blinded and tyrannized over all minds took her life legitimately. Good men, humane men, could do no less than pronounce her guilty before the law and before that creed which engendered the law. Before we denounce or even disparage those who condemned her, let us pause for reflection. "A creed sometimes remains outside of the mind, incrusting and petrifying it against all other influences addressed to the higher parts of our nature, manifesting its power by not suffering any fresh and living conviction to get in."--_John Stuart Mill._ We requote as follows:-- "The nobler tendency of culture, and above all of scientific culture, is to honor the dead without groveling before them--to profit by the past without sacrificing it to the present." The early colonists of the old Bay State deserve to be held in high esteem and admiration; all noble sentiments conspire to honor them. Culture and enlightenment will be derelict to their high calling if they traduce that people before they turn thought backward through two centuries, scan the imported creeds then prevalent here, observe circumstances then existing, and enter into feelings and views then bearing resistless sway. Having done that, let them calmly determine whither duty led true-hearted, clear-headed, strong, courageous, and devout men in relation to witchcraft matters. Many old beliefs may be discarded; many mistakes and errors of the past be shunned. We are not called to grovel before our ancestors; but shame, shame be to us if we brand them with egregious "credulity and infatuation," solely or mainly because their senses perceived and they described events which we cannot explain if we grant to them clear, sagacious, and well-balanced intellects for reporting facts which they observed. They were our peers in most good qualities and powers, and deserve our admiration. Did we know the spot where the dust of Charlestown's gifted physician reposes, we might desire to see a modest monument there bearing the following inscription:-- TO THE MEMORY OF MARGARET JONES, America's first Martyr to Spiritualism: Who was hanged in Boston, June 15, 1648, Because God had given her such Organization and Receptivities that beneficent occult Powers, using her successfully as an Instrument in curing Human Ills, So excited the Consternation of a Devil-fearing People, That, knowing not what they did, They cried, CRUCIFY HER! CRUCIFY HER! ANN HIBBINS. We lead attention next to one who moved in the highest circle of Boston society--to an elderly lady of wit, culture, high connections socially, and of friendship with many of the most prominent and virtuous people of her day. So far as known, hers is meager as a case of witchcraft, attended by a less variety and extent of startling phenomena than most others; but it well reveals the force of the witchcraft creed, and the shifts of historians for explaining its only marvelous phenomenon which history hints at. Hutchinson says, "The most remarkable occurrence in the colony in the year 1655 [1656 ?] was the trial and condemnation of Mrs. Ann Hibbins for witchcraft. Her husband, who died in the year 1654, was an agent for the colony in England, several years one of the assistants, and a merchant of note in the town of Boston; but losses in the latter part of his life had reduced his estate, and increased the natural crabbedness of his wife's temper, which made her turbulent and quarrelsome, and brought her under church censures, and at length rendered her so odious to her neighbors as to cause some of them to accuse her of witchcraft. The jury brought her in guilty, but the magistrates refused to accept the verdict; so the cause came to the general court, where the popular clamor prevailed against her, and the miserable old woman was condemned and executed. Search was made upon her body for teats, and her chests and boxes for puppets, images, &c.; but there is no record of anything of that sort being found. Mr. Beach, a minister in Jamaica, in a letter to Dr. Increase Mather in the year 1684, says, 'You may remember what I have sometimes told; your famous Mr. Norton once said at his own table before Mr. Wilson the pastor, elder Penn, and myself and wife, &c., who had the honor to be his guests, that one of your magistrates' wives, as I remember, was hanged for a witch only for having more wit than her neighbors. It was his very expression; she having, as he explained it, unhappily guessed that two of her persecutors, whom she saw talking in the street, were talking of her, which, proving true, cost her her life, notwithstanding all he could do to the contrary, as he himself told us.' "It fared with her as it did with Joan of Arc in France. Some counted her a saint and some a witch, and some observed solemn marks of Providence set upon those who were very forward to condemn her, and to brand others upon the like ground with the like reproach." The author of the above was born fifty-five years after the execution of Mrs. Hibbins, and his account of her was not published till 1764, that is, one hundred and eight years after her decease. In his youth he may have conversed with aged people who were living at the time of the trial and execution of this woman, and may have received from them their notions concerning her temper and character. But if he did, his informers, during more than half a century before he was old enough to be an intelligent listener, had been living in the midst of people who were ashamed of the treatment which they and their fathers had bestowed upon reputed witches. Thus ashamed and yielding to an almost universal propensity in men to make their own imputed errors and crimes seem slight, trivial, and excusable as possible, nothing would be more natural than a general propensity to vilify the sufferers, under a mistaken, though common, notion that the vileness of the persecuted excuses the wrong of the persecutors. Whether Hutchinson, in his youth, received from any source special mental biases which inclined him to regard all who suffered for witchcraft as quarrelsome and vicious, cannot now be ascertained; but it is obvious from his epithets that his disposition let him very readily apply to such persons terms of very decided disparagement. He spoke of one Mary Oliver as "a poor wretch;" also of Mrs. Hibbins as "the miserable old woman," and specified the "natural crabbedness of her temper which made her turbulent and quarrelsome." He implies that such traits were both the grounds and the sum of the charge and proofs of her witchcraft, and does all this without adducing a particle of evidence that she possessed such a temper, or was either _turbulent_ or _quarrelsome_. His allegations seem like the offspring of either blinding contempt or of deluded fancy,--yes, _deluded_,--for surely clear-eyed fancy must have foreseen that after ages could never believe that the highest court in the colony found natural crabbedness of temper, and consequent turbulence, satisfactory proof of an explicit compact with the devil, and therefore punishable by death. The insufficiency and probable inaccuracy of his reasons for the arraignment and condemnation of this person, will be more clearly exhibited further on, and mainly in extracts from a later historian. Mr. Beach's letter, quoted by Hutchinson, gives distinct indication that Mrs. Hibbins was endowed with faculties which were vastly more likely to out-work what her age deemed witchcraft, than was any amount of bad temper and crabbedness. She had "more wit than her neighbors;" she "unhappily guessed that two of her persecutors, whom she saw talking in the street, were talking of her, which, proving true, cost her her life." Here is indication of probability that this lady, as did Margaret Jones, possessed ability to comprehend the conversation of far distant parties, or to sense in the thoughts of some absent people with whom she came in rapport. Similar abilities are possessed and exercised by many persons in these days, who have constitutional endowments of a kind which were formerly believed to be diabolical acquisitions, and were then deemed proofs of witchcraft--proofs of compact with Satan. "It fared with her," says Hutchinson, "as it did with Joan of Arc in France. Some counted her a saint and some a witch." In these words the historian himself furnishes cause for distrusting the justice of ascribing to her a crabbed temper and habitual quarrelsomeness. For who, in any community, would ever count one _a saint_ who manifested such offensive qualities to any great extent as he ascribed to her? Surely no one would. And yet he states that very many persons did so count Mrs. Hibbins. Doubtless among her advocates was "your famous Mr. Norton," a very eminent, sagacious, and able minister in Boston. There was enough about her to draw out from Hutchinson the concession that the public here was divided in judgment concerning her character, as it formerly was in France concerning Joan of Arc, that Maid of Orleans, who heard and obeyed voices from out the unseen. Crabbedness of temper and quarrelsomeness were not grounds on which any portion of the people would count her a _saint_. The historian refutes his own position. A more recent searcher for causes of her fate perceived, and very clearly pointed out, the inaccuracy and obvious insufficiency of Hutchinson's grounds and reasons why Mrs. Hibbins was arraigned and convicted, but proceeded to assign others which are scarcely less inadequate and improbable. He writes as follows, vol. i. p. 422, _Hist. of Witchcraft_:-- "While it is hardly worthy of being considered a sufficient explanation of the matter,--it being beyond belief, that, even at that time, a person could be condemned and executed merely on account of a 'crabbed temper,'--it is not consistent with the facts as made known to us from the record-offices. She could not have been so reduced in circumstances as to produce such extraordinary effects upon her character, for she left a good estate.... The only clew we have to the kind of evidence bearing upon the charge of witchcraft that brought this recently bereaved widow to so cruel and shameful a death, is in a letter written by a clergyman in Jamaica to Increase Mather" (as quoted above). "Nothing," Upham adds, "was more natural than for her to suppose, knowing the parties, witnessing their manner, considering their active co-operation in getting up the excitement against her, which was then the all-engrossing topic, that they were talking about her. But, in the blind infatuation of the time, it was considered proof positive of her being possessed, _by the aid of the devil_, of supernatural insight--precisely as, forty years afterward, such evidence was brought to bear with telling effect against George Burroughs.... The truth is, that the tongue of slander was let loose upon her, and the calumnies circulated by reckless gossip became so magnified and exaggerated, and assumed such proportions, as enabled her vilifiers to bring her under the censure of the church, and that emboldened them to cry out against her as a witch." Some of our quotations are introduced quite as much for the purpose of exhibiting the animus, short-comings, and over-doings of the historians themselves, as for elucidating the general subject of witchcraft. We learn from the pages of the work from which the above extract was taken, that Mrs. Hibbins was sister of Richard Bellingham, deputy-governor of the province at the very time of her trial, and that her highly-esteemed husband had left her an estate which placed her far above poverty. It may fairly be presumed that both her social and pecuniary conditions were very respectable. Upham perceives and forcibly comments upon the inadequacy of the grounds upon which Hutchinson attempted to account for her conviction and execution. That earlier historian evinced, on very many of his pages, his persuasion, or at least a purpose to persuade his readers, that all the peculiar and disturbing phenomena of witchcraft were of exclusively mundane origin, and that temper, trick, imposture, deception, and the like, produced them all. This persuasion made him somewhat impatient of the whole matter, uncareful to scan all the facts before him, or keep his inferences in fair and broad harmony with them. It made him rashly severe. Without indicating a shadow of reason why he does so, he calls this widow of one of Boston's most esteemed merchants and public men--this sister of the deputy-governor of the province--this woman of more wit than her neighbors--this woman befriended by the eminent minister John Norton--this woman not in poverty--this woman whom he ought to have known, did, in her lowest condition, even when a convict in prison and doomed to the gallows--did, in this dire extremity, bespeak and obtain the friendly offices of six or eight of the leading men of the city, and therefore presumably had their respect--such a one, Hutchinson gratuitously calls a "miserable old woman;" and in doing it reveals the careless and heartless historian of those who had come under ban for witchcraft. Upham, going to the probate records and finding the will of Mrs. Hibbins, which was made a few days after her sentence of death, is able to present her in a different aspect. His comments upon her, as she is revealed by the will and its codicils, are as follows, vol. i. p. 425:-- "The whole tone and manner of these instruments give evidence that she had a mind capable of rising above the power of wrong, suffering, and death itself. They show a spirit calm and serene. The disposition of her property indicates good sense, good feeling, and business faculties suitable to the occasion. In the body of the will, there is not a word, a syllable, or a turn of expression, that refers to or is in the slightest degree colored by her peculiar situation. In the codicil there is this sentence: 'My desire is that all my overseers would be pleased to show so much respect unto my dead corpse, as to cause it to be decently interred, and, if it may be, near my late husband." Perusal and study of her will and its appendages induced the later historian to speak of Ann Hibbins as "this recently bereaved widow"--a phrase much more agreeable, and seemingly vastly more just in application to her, than "miserable old woman." In that will she names as overseers and administrators of her estate, Captain Thomas Clarke, Lieutenant Edward Hutchinson, Lieutenant William Hudson, Ensign Joshua Scottow, and Cornet Peter Oliver; also in a codicil, she says, "I do earnestly desire my loving friends, Captain Johnson and Edward Rawson, to be added to the rest of the gentlemen mentioned as overseers of my will." Upham, having stated the above, says, "It can hardly be doubted that these persons--and they were all leading citizens--were known by her to be among her friends." Yes, the presumption is very fair, amounting to almost positive proof, that many of the prominent and best people of the town were her friends. The appearance is, that her social walk was wide away from the purlieus of common mundane diabolism and billingsgate. The vulgar would see her standing off beyond their reach, and waste no breath upon her. Only the respectable and influential could touch her to her essential harm. We commend and thank the later historian for bringing this persecuted woman out into such light as shows that she may have been equal in all good qualities to the best of her persecutors. But his reasons for her persecution and condemnation are scarcely more adequate or credible than those of Hutchinson. We ascribed to him the faculties of a fictionist, and he used them when he said, "The truth is, that the tongue of slander was let loose upon her." The former historian imputed certain offensive acts or traits to both Margaret Jones and Ann Hibbins severally, which he assumed to be the provoking causes of public vengeance. He deemed the sufferers themselves doers of the intolerable wrongs. But his successor makes her beneficence the crime for which Mrs. Jones suffered; and the origination and utterance of slander _by the public_, the cause of death to Mrs. Hibbins. The earlier writer was lenient toward the public and severe upon the accused women. The later was kind toward the women, but, by necessary implication, intensely aspersory upon the great body of the people; for he makes the public hang one because of her successful medical practice by the use of only simple remedies, and another because of slanders which itself had poured out upon her. His charge of slander is fictitious. He adduces no evidence that the lady was slandered, and we have met with none anywhere. And were it true, it is quite as much "beyond belief that even at that time a person could be condemned and executed merely on account of being" _slandered_, as it is that one could have then been thus treated on account of a "crabbed temper" solely. A much more probable cause of the persecution of Mrs. Hibbins than either of the historians drew forth and rested upon, lurks in that language of "famous Mr. Norton," which says that she "having more wit than her neighbors, unhappily guessed that two of her persecutors, whom she saw talking in the street, were talking of her, which proving true, cost her her life." Upham, commenting upon that, says, "Nothing was more natural than for her to suppose, knowing the parties, witnessing their manner, considering their active co-operation in getting up the excitement against her, which was then the all-engrossing topic, that they were talking about her." Whence and how did the accomplished rhetorician learn that those two persecutors were active co-operators, or that they were in any degree concerned "in _getting up_" the excitement against her? How _know_ that their manner was expressive of any particular topic of conversation? How _know_ that she or her case was the then all-engrossing topic? He put forth assumptions as though they were historic facts. No ancient record is credited with them; none contains them that we have met with. He could not well know them to be true. They are fairly reasonable fictions; but we must doubt whether they are either known or knowable as _facts_. They would be agreeable amplifications if they did not tend to mislead and blind; they would be beauties, and not blemishes, if the soundness and sufficiency of their underlying theory or assumption were conceded. But it is not. Common sense cannot concede it. Boston was neither doltish enough nor wicked enough to generate and sustain _slander_ of such quantity and quality as would force one of her ladies of wit and high connections to die ignominiously on the gallows--never, never. Neither the temper of the woman herself, nor any combined baseness and malice that ever existed in the orderly and religious town of Boston, is admissible as the chief cause of that woman's execution. Her own _wit_ was the historic, and, when defined and illustrated, may appear to be the real cause. Whether Mrs. Hibbins received on that occasion, and might have been accustomed to get, knowledge by other than man's ordinary processes, and to such extent and of such kind as implied her possession of some faculties above or distinct from great powers at guessing, can best be inferred by looking at the views of her utterances which were taken by those who heard them. Their persecution of her unto death tells what those views were. Have historians made fair and full use of the very small historic basis extant, for accounting for the state and nature of public feeling among the neighbors of this woman? We think not. Her _wit_, the true corner-stone, has not been their basis of explanation. When she saw two known persecutors talking, the circumstances may or may not have been helpful to a correct guess at the topic of their conversation _then_. But--but these men, Upham assumes, were _already_ known to her as her persecutors. Therefore something must have occurred before that time which had aroused persecution of her. These men are called "two of her persecutors," which intimates that she already may have had more than two, and admits the supposition that she may have had very many such, both prior to and at the very time when she made the particular _guess_ whose accuracy has been so plausibly commented upon. Something, antecedent to that guess, had set some minds against her. Yes, if we may trust the conjecture of Upham, something had already created an "excitement against her which was then the all-engrossing topic." The cause of antecedent and existing excitement, at the time she made _that_ guess, was seemingly unsought for by either Hutchinson or Upham. Or, if they sought for this, _the most important thing connected with the case, and essential to its satisfactory elucidation_, they found nothing which they ventured to publish. Omission to bring out the cause of public excitement, _prior to the guess_, makes previous history very unsatisfactory. There is some light shining now which may enable the searcher in dark closets of the past to discover meanings there which former explorers failed to find. No new, positive, distinct historical statements explanatory of this case have been seen. We are confined to the same very narrow premises on which previous reasoners stood, but we find different import of the same facts from any which prior expounders disclosed. We join with Upham in saying that "_the only clew_ we have to the kind of evidence bearing upon _the charge of witchcraft_ that brought this recently bereaved widow to so cruel and shameful a death, is in a letter written by a clergyman in Jamaica to Increase Mather in 1684." That letter, already quoted, imputes to her more _wit_ than others; wit, or penetration, by which she sensed correctly the conversation going on between two of her persecutors. That is the full sum of the direct historical evidence. And what is involved in that? Is crabbed temper there? No. Is slander there? No; but _wit_ is. Standing alone and unexplained, this wit amounts, perhaps, to but little; and yet when interpreted by her sad fate it may amount to very much. It suggests forcibly the probability, bordering close upon certainty, that she was endowed with some faculties which the sagacious Mr. Norton called "wit"--but yet were such as could obtain accurate knowledge so surprisingly as to suggest that it was obtained by process as occult as that by which Jesus perceived the private reasonings of scribes and pharisees--entrappers and persecutors of himself. To-day,--when observation is almost daily meeting with operations of faculties, in limited classes of men and women, which enable them to read, at times, the secret thoughts and hear the secret and hushed utterances of some afar off,--that Jamaica letter intimates enough to generate presumption that Mrs. Hibbins might have possessed like faculties, and that her exercise of such startled, alarmed, and almost frenzied a community in which such powers were deemed proof positive that their possessor had made a covenant with the Evil One, and received her surprising knowledge from him. Amid a people holding such faith concerning the devil as the colonists here entertained in 1656, the exercise of such powers called upon all God-fearing and true men to rid the world of such a devil-minion as the knowledge possessed by Mrs. Hibbins proved her to be. A sample of light which is now available shines forth from the following letter, and its rays are blended in those from the lamp that guides our feet while we move onward in tracing out the probable meaning reachable by following up the only historic clew to those powers of Mrs. Hibbins, her possession and exercise of which constituted a capital crime:-- "NO. 1085 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, "September 23, 1873. "ALLEN PUTNAM, ESQ., ROXBURY. "Dear Friend: You solicit information in regard to hearing, from the _inner_ ear, men and women speaking when miles away. I have always possessed that faculty in a remarkable degree. At one time, when building a steamboat in Southern Illinois, under peculiar circumstances, I would often hear men say, 'That man has no money to build a boat with; he's a fraud; and I pity those poor fellows who are working for him.' This was soon after I commenced her construction; and although I did not want to hear it, and tried ever so hard not to, still I could hear them seemingly more distinct than though they were close to me. One day in particular, and at a time when I could see no way out of my difficulty, I heard a Mr. Cutting, who was building some miles up river, say to his foreman, 'I wonder if Mr. Kimball realizes that his timber will be lost.' (Mr. Kimball was the man who furnished my timber and plank.) After the tide turned in my favor, and it was known about town that I paid my men regularly, I heard the remark, 'That man is the most reticent man I ever heard of,' &c." The author of the letter does not state distinctly that in those two cases the speakers were very much too far away for his external ears to hear their voices, yet such was his statement when he gave me, previously, a verbal account of the facts; and such was his meaning, therefore, in the letter--the remainder of which here follows:-- "At one time, in Cincinnati, although three miles away, I heard my landlady say to her daughter, after I had been boarding with them a week, 'I don't like that man--he is _not_ all right;' and went on to tell her impressions, what she thought I was, which it is not necessary to repeat. At first I felt indignant, forgetting, for the moment, I was three miles away. I finally concluded to say nothing about it when I went home at night, as I thought at first of doing, else they might think I was wrong in some way, as they were both members of the M. E. Church. But, when I got home, having a good opportunity, I told the daughter word for word what her mother had said about me, and also her response to her mother after she (the mother) had got through berating me--which was, 'What do you mean?' and the mother's answer to her exclamation, 'I mean just as I say.' I requested the daughter not to say anything to the mother, as it would do no good. But in the course of the following day the mother got speaking of me again in much the same strain, when the daughter could not resist the temptation, and told her to be careful what she said; and then told her what I had said. The mother was thunderstruck, and after a moment said, 'He is a devil.' I happened to be in a condition such that I heard the mother's response. This I told to the daughter that evening. Now, if I had had a thought that the mother entertained such feelings toward me, I might have attributed it to the workings of my own mind. But as I thought they had diametrically the opposite opinion, I concluded that it was another case of the inner hearing. "Now, if you can make use of this, or a part of it, you are welcome to do so. Should you desire any other cases, I can furnish many. "With high considerations I remain, "D. C. DENSMORE." The writer of the above, when in conversation with me in my own study, incidentally dropped a word which intimated that his inner ear was sometimes receptive of utterances put forth by embodied men and women, who, at the time, were far away from him. In response to my expressed wish to know whether such was the fact, he detailed a number of cases in which he had had such experience; I then asked him to give me one or two of them, briefly, on paper. That request shortly drew forth the foregoing letter. Much more of the emphatically educational period of Captain Densmore's life was spent in forecastles and cabins of whaleships than in school on shore, and he perhaps expected me to reconstruct his sentences, in part at least, before presenting them in print. But such facts as his experience has encountered ought to be accompanied by the spirit of conscious knowledge and truth pervading his own vocabulary. His language is sufficiently perspicuous to convey his meaning, and possesses force which any considerable change would impair. That spirit makes rhetoric and grammar of secondary consequence in the narration of facts and experiences which show that there exist capacities in some embodied human beings for receiving intelligence-fraught impressions, in ways and under circumstances which the schoolmen and teachers of the world lack knowledge of, but ought to know and get instruction from. Therefore the reader has been permitted to see in his own words the statement of one who has at times heard with his inner or spiritual senses the exact words of speakers who were miles away from him, and thus shown that Mrs. Hibbins, through the possession of natural faculties, though of a kind but rarely developed, might have been something very different from a mere skillful guesser. An assumption that she was helped by spirits is not needful to a satisfactory explanation of a mode in which she might have learned directly and instantly what far absent ones were uttering. Her own faculties, independently of special spirit help or teaching, may have permitted her to hear with perfect distinctness what would have been utterly inaudible by mortals in their ordinary condition. Measuring the marvelousness of her knowledge by the frenzy it produced in the community, and the awful doom it drew upon herself, we look upon her manifestations of "wit" as an outflow of knowledge gained through her own inner or spiritual organs of perception--either with or without the aid of spirits. When commenting upon what he assumed to be fact, viz., that Mrs. Hibbins made a correct guess, and only a _guess_, Upham says, that "in the blind infatuation of the time, it was considered proof positive of her being possessed, _by aid of the devil_, of supernatural insight." Thus he assumed that the mass of people in Boston were under such an infatuation as could and did cause them to believe that very successful _guessing_ required the devil's help! They may have been infatuated, but their infatuation did not act in that direction. Their senses and judgments for determining the forces needful to produce either material or mental effects, may, for aught that history states, have been as keen as any people ever possessed, and their general wisdom and thrift indicate that they did. Why, therefore, hastily brand them with the imbecility of being unequal to a fair, common-sense estimate of the adequacy of causes to produce observed effects? To do so is ungenerous, unjust, and uncalled for by their action. It may have been, and probably was, their freedom from infatuation; it may have been the very keenness and accuracy of their perceptions of the quantity and quality of cause needful to acquirement of knowledge which her utterances revealed, that generated and sustained the hostility against Mrs. Hibbins. Her accuracy in reading facts, secret and transpiring at a distance, was possibly, on many occasions, so far beyond what common experience or science was able to impute to either luck or skill at guessing, that few, if any, could avoid the conclusion that she was receiving supernal aid. Anything supernal was then deemed devilish. After public excitement had been aroused against her, a very successful guess might possibly be evidence that the devil was its author, but not till the excitement had acquired and exercised bewildering force. Some extraordinary sayings or doings of this lady obviously must have antedated the public furore, else it would never have raged. The nature and circumstances of the case indicate an almost certainty that minds around her, while in their ordinary calmness, must have witnessed sayings or doings by her which "seemed to them more than natural"--which were startling--were out of the usual course, and readily distinguishable from GUESSINGS: because without something of this kind the excitement itself could never have commenced. What first started the public terror of her is the most important question in the case. The excitement did not spring up uncaused. A successful guess was no great novelty and no marvel in times of calmness. It could not then be regarded as diabolical. The bewilderings of antecedent causes were needful to make a correct _guess_ terrific. Excitement might metamorphose a guess into devil-imputed knowledge, but a guess could not beget, though it might intensify, blood-seeking excitement. Whence the excitement itself--such excitement as could regard an accurate guess as necessarily the offspring of diabolical insight? Mrs. Hibbins lived among the _élite_ of a province, whose people were decidedly sagacious in matters of both private and public business, and were also probably possessed of as high moral and religious principles, as prevailed in any other community on the globe. As before stated, Richard Bellingham, one of the very eminent men of the country, and at that time deputy-governor of the province, was her brother; she was widow of one who had been among the most esteemed citizens of the town, and she is credited with having possessed more wit than her neighbors. Therefore we are hunting for a cause adequate to excite public indignation against a woman of bright intellect, of high position in society, and standing under the shelter of near kinship with those in authority. The cause must have been some strange one. _Skill at guessing_ was too common and natural, and does not meet the requirements. We all unite in calling the people of 1656 infatuated in relation to witchcraft. But did their infatuation so affect them as to bring obtuseness upon their external senses and their intellectual ability for discerning the nature, character, and force of testimony and evidence? or, on the other hand, did it not show itself almost exclusively in their reception and tenacious retention of monstrous items in their witchcraft creed? Which? Admit an affirmative to the first part of the inquiry--admit that senses and intellects were befooled by external manifestations--and you make those noble forefathers but a band of dolts, heartless and bloodthirsty, taking life because they had not wit enough to read clearly the significance of observed external facts or to see the bearings and force of evidence. Admit the second, viz., that their creed was father of their infatuation, and you may look upon them as a band possessing clear perception of the exact meaning and logical results of all Christendom's fixed creed upon diabolism, and of unflinching purpose to fight for God and Christ against the devil. Demonologically they were infatuated, in common with the enlightened world; while yet for keen observance of outward facts, for just estimate of the adequacy of a cause to produce an observed effect, for determining the just significance of any well-observed fact, for discriminating application of evidence under the rules of their creeds both God-ward and devil-ward, no reason appears why they were not equal to any other community anywhere. Their infatuation was not first on the practical, but on the theoretical side. It was devil-ward, not man-ward _directly_, though through the creed it became man-ward. Though perceiving the meagerness and improbability of Hutchinson's solution, Upham, ignoring what he avowed to be the only historical "clew we have" to a correct one, which led directly to the woman's own wit, was pleased to find the exciting cause of her persecution not in _her_, but in other people, and dogmatically said, "The _truth_ is, the tongue of slander was let loose against her." Such assumption--and it is bold assumption, even if it be in accordance with facts--fails--entirely fails--to meet the fair demands of our common-sense requirements. What started, and extended, and intensified that tongue if it did wag? If its utterances were _slanderous_, they were a mixture of _falsehood_ and _malice_. What _lies_ were or could be fabricated against such a woman, the nature of which the common sagacity of society there and then would not detect? What _lies_ which the truthfulness of society there and then would not decline to repeat against her? What malice against that lady of high connections could so pervade society there as to generate a public sentiment that demanded and obtained her life? The people of Boston were not wicked enough to let falsehood and malice triumph in their highest court of justice. Something different from _slander_ was needed to awaken and sustain the popular clamor against this woman, and to cause the court to pass sentence of death upon her. We granted to Upham the faculties of a fictionist, and he used them when he declared that "the truth is, the tongue of slander was let loose upon her." "The truth is," neither he nor any other one among us at this day, knows whether that woman was slandered or not. She may have been, but it is only matter of conjecture, and should not be put forth as _truth_. Something more than slander in its utmost expandings and accretions was needful to the tragic results which ensued. We recur again to the only historical cause of excitement against this lady, viz., Norton's hint that she possessed such marvelous wit for guessing, as Upham supposes the people around her considered "proof positive of her being possessed, _by the aid of the devil_, of supernatural insight." That hint unlocks a door behind which may be found a more adequate and philosophical cause of her arraignment and condemnation than has hitherto been assigned. Since many persons now possess, she too may have possessed constitutional faculties, which, at times, enabled her to _sense_, comprehend, and enunciate facts and truths which it was impossible for her to learn by man's ordinary processes. Admit simply that she may have possessed intuitive faculties which read the thoughts of others or sensed afar the spirit of sounds, and solution of all mysteries about her is made. Wide awake, keen-sighted, good people may have seen in her the exercise of such powers as were clearly, distinctly, and beyond all question, extraordinary,--yes, supermundane. What then? Why, by all fair logic from Christendom's faith at that time, the devil must be her teacher, and she must be his covenanted servant. Such a helper of Satan, however high in character or station, must be deprived of power to work for him. Very wonderful revelations, such as disclosures of the secret thoughts and private conversations of other and distant persons, being a few times repeated by her, what could people, true to their God and their creed, do less than demand her execution? Nothing--nothing less. Their infatuated but sincere belief about the devil plainly and with mighty force called for her blood. And this not because of any crabbedness in her--not because of any lies about her--not because of malice toward her--not because of the tongue of slander--but because of facts, unquestionable facts, outwrought through her, which the tongue of truth might dutifully publish and republish throughout the town. The trouble, the murderous impulses, sprang from the _creed_, and especially from those parts of it which made any and all mysterious and disturbing outworkings devilish in their source, and which taught that the devil could act through no human beings but such as had made a voluntary compact to serve him. Those who had covenanted with him must die. Mrs. Hibbins was born with mediumistic faculties, and because of her legitimate use of these, the faith of her times conscientiously took her life. It gladdens the heart to find a view which legitimately permits Mrs. Hibbins to have been a bright, refined, high-toned, and most estimable lady; and at the same time lessens the blackness of the cloud which has long hung over her judges and executioners. They were not so weak and wicked as to doom one to die because of temper, nor so villainous as to slander away a lady's life. Stern religious adherence and application of an honest, though deluded _faith_, made them executioners of all such as had exhibited powers which in the dim light of their philosophy and science seemed supernatural. Their weakness consisted of such strong faith as could, and in emergencies must, put in abeyance the kindlier sentiments of their hearts. Their great infirmity, which was then a general one throughout Christendom, was solely infatuation _devil-ward_. We charge our ancestors with _infatuation_. People in all ages and nations have, no doubt, been subject to its influence. Perhaps every individual man and woman is more or less swayed by it. Each one in respect to some things may act without his usual good judgment, and contrary to the dictates of reason. The people of Boston were obviously debarred, by their infatuation devil-ward, from perceiving that Mrs. Hibbins might have received extraordinary gifts from some other giver than the great evil devil. And is it _impossible_ that infatuation influenced her recent historian first to reject the historic wit, and substitute for it fancied slander, as cause for the excitement against her, and then put his substitution forth as the _truth_; though both common sense and sound philosophy see at a glance, first, that it is only a conjecture, and secondly, that it is entirely inadequate to produce the effects which it was fabricated to account for? In doing this _he_ seemingly acted without _his_ usual good judgment, and contrary to the appropriate dictates of his enlightened reason--was infatuated. Both of the two historians above quoted, virtually assumed that there never occurred here any phenomena, either mental or physical, which were not wrought out by agents, forces, and faculties purely mundane. Therefore the facts of history necessarily pushed them up to make implied, and often explicit, allegation that whole communities of resolute, wide-awake, energetic people, were possessors of external senses which were pitifully and superlatively deludible--possessors of enormous general credulity--of perceptions and judgments woefully warped and benighted in matters generally, excepting only a few of their girls and old women, who manifested cunning and deviltry supreme in making high sport out of the weaknesses of their elders and betters. Having driven stakes beyond which nature and natural forces must not go under forfeiture of historic recognition, anything not explainable by forces recognized within those stakes, is accounted for by the sage exclamation, "But that was a time of great credulity;" or "in the blind infatuation of the time," things were thus and so. We are willing to grant the existence of much credulity and infatuation both of old and now, but are not willing to allow that the facts of seeing what some other persons have not seen, and knowing the existence and partial operations of some forces in nature which some people have not paid attention to, are proof of either "great credulity" or "blind infatuation." Had the later historian been free from all infatuation, he could have learned from passing developments that Mrs. Hibbins probably, at times, was essentially a liberated spirit, hearing what Swedenborg calls "cogitatio loquens"--speaking thought--and that her repetition of what she thus learned took her life. Hers was not a case of necessary spirit co-operation, was perhaps only one of uncommon liberation of the internal perceptive faculties. Because highly illumined, her brilliancy was judged to be diabolical, and therefore must be extinguished. ANN COLE. Manifestations differing widely from any noticed in the preceding cases, were observed in the presence of a Connecticut girl named Ann Cole. American witchcraft history has transmitted no distinct account of the use of human organs of speech by intellect that was foreign to the legitimate owner of the vocals used, prior to the instance described by Hutchinson in the following extract. The history of Ann Cole involves all that we know of the Greensmiths, husband and wife, mentioned therein, and who were executed for witchcraft. "In 1662, at Hartford, Conn., one Ann Cole, a young woman who lived next door to a Dutch family, and, no doubt, had learned something of the language, was supposed to be possessed with demons, who sometimes spoke Dutch, and sometimes English, and sometimes a language which nobody understood, and who held a conference with one another. Several ministers, who were present, took down the conference in writing, and the names of several persons mentioned in the course of the conference as actors or bearing parts in it; particularly a woman, then in prison upon suspicion of witchcraft, one Greensmith, who, upon examination, confessed, and appeared to be surprised at the discovery. She owned that she and the others named had been familiar with a demon, who had carnal knowledge of her; and although she had not made a formal covenant, yet she had promised to be ready at his call, and was to have had a high frolic at Christmas, when an agreement was to have been signed. Upon this confession she was executed, and two more of the company were condemned at the same time." Hutchinson also credits to Goffe's diary the statement that "after one of the witches was hanged, the maid was well." Another account of this Ann's case, furnished by an eye-witness and personal hearer when she was in her trances, has been transmitted. The writer of it promptly made, but afterward lost, minutes of what he heard from her lips, and about twenty years afterward wrote his remembrances of the manifestations, and forwarded the following account to Increase Mather:-- "Anno 1662. This Ann Cole (living in her father's family) was taken with strange fits wherein she (or rather the devil, as 'tis judged, making use of her lips) held a discourse for a considerable time. The general substance of it was to this purport, that a company of familiars of the evil one (who were named in the discourse that passed from her) were contriving how to carry on their mischievous designs against some, and especially against her; mentioning sundry ways they would take to that end, as that they would afflict her body, spoil her name, hinder her marriage, &c.... The conclusion was, 'Let us confound her language; she may tell no more tales.'... The discourse passed into a Dutch tone, ... and therein was given an account of some afflictions that had befallen divers, among the rest a young Dutch woman ... that could speak but very little, had met with great sorrow, as pinchings of her arms in the dark, &c.... Judicious Mr. Stone being by, when the latter discourse passed, declared it, in his thoughts, impossible that one not familiarly acquainted with the Dutch (which Ann Cole had not at all been) should so exactly imitate the Dutch tone in the pronunciation of English.... Extremely violent bodily motions she many times had, even to the hazard of her life, ... and very often great disturbance was given in the public worship of God by her and two other women who had also strange fits.... The consequence was, that one of the persons presented as active in the forementioned discourse (a lewd, ignorant, considerably aged woman), being a prisoner upon suspicion of witchcraft, the court sent for Mr. Haynes and myself to read what we had written.... She forthwith and freely confessed these things to be true: (that she and other persons named in the discourse) had familiarity with the devil. Being asked whether she had made an express covenant with him, she answered, she had not, only as she promised to go with him when he called (which she had accordingly done sundry times).... Amongst other things, she owned that the devil had frequent use of her body with much seeming (but indeed horrible, hellish) delight to her. This, with the concurrent evidence, brought the woman and her husband to their death as the devil's familiars.... After this execution ... the good woman had abatement of her sorrows, which had continued sundry years, and she yet remains maintaining her integrity. "Ann Cole was daughter of John Cole, a godly man among us. She hath been a person esteemed pious, behaving herself with a pleasant mixture of humility and faith under very heavy sufferings, professing (as she did sundry times) that _she knew nothing_ of those things that were spoken by her, but that her tongue was improved to express what never was in her mind."--_John Whiting to Increase Mather. Feb. 1682._ The source of Hutchinson's information is not known. Rev. Mr. Whiting, of Hartford, was an eye and ear witness to what he relates, and therefore is the better authority. Some great discrepancies are obvious in the two accounts. One hundred years after her day the historian said Ann no doubt had learned something of the Dutch language. But the better authority, because it is that of one who both saw and beard the young woman when under control, and continued to obtain knowledge of her for twenty years subsequently, says she "had not at all been acquainted with" that language. The former says "the supposed demons" spoke through her sometimes in English and sometimes in Dutch; while the latter "judged" that the devil alone was speaker, and implies that the language always was English, though the tones sometimes were very exactly Dutch. The devil was "judged" to be there divulging the malicious purposes of "a company of his familiars" toward certain human beings. Here is manifested a propensity, common to all describers of witchcraft scenes, to impute to the great devil himself whatever was projected forth from the realm of mysteries. A careful reading of the two accounts excites conjecture that Hutchinson may have drawn his facts mainly from Whiting's letter, and yet failed to regard and adhere to opinions therein presented as to the actual speaker through Ann Cole's lips. Whiting says, that "she, or rather the _devil_, as 'tis judged, making use of her lips, held a discourse" in which sundry living persons were named as being familiars of the Evil One, and plotters of mischief against some of their neighbors, and especially against this Ann herself. This personal observer says, that "_she, or rather the devil_," described Mrs. Greensmith and her associates, and disclosed their evil purposes toward Ann and some other mortals. But the historian greatly metamorphosed the matter; he writes, that she "was supposed to be possessed with demons, who sometimes spoke Dutch and sometimes English," and that the persons who took notes (Mr. Whiting, Mr. Haynes, and Mr. Stone) mentioned the names of several persons "_as being actors or bearing parts in the conference, ... particularly one Greensmith_." Wrong--entirely wrong: these mortals were the subjects of a discourse; were not speakers, but persons spoken of. Thus Hutchinson converted certain low-lived mortals into such demons as took possession of a human form, and through it, in varying languages, held a dialogue in which they openly told to mortal ears their own malicious purposes, and what mortals they were intending to injure. Stupid. Whiting makes the devil, in varied tones and assumed characters, speak out the names of the embodied culprits, and tell of harms they had done, and more that they intended to do. Sensible. The devil or his alias often acts well the part of a detective and informer; in this case he managed to bring Mrs. Greensmith to confession. _Possibly_, and only possibly, that devil was only an influx of auras which found entrance to Ann's inner perceptives, put in abeyance her outer consciousness and outer senses, and let her inner ones sense and give expression to the thoughts and purposes of some low-lived and lewd mediumistic persons in her neighborhood, whose inner selves, she, as a relatively freed spirit, could thoroughly read. Occult intelligences sometimes actuate the physical organs, while yet the mortal's consciousness fails to perceive either the action or the will that prompts it. The account of her life makes it apparent that Ann, as a woman, had no affinity with the base and lewd, but, being mediumistic, was caused, either by design or by the out-workings of unconscious natural forces, to disclose the baseness and lewdness of others. She apparently experienced entrancement to absolute unconsciousness, so that she became, for the time being, literally a tool--no more self-acting, and therefore no more responsible, than a pen, a pencil, or a speaking-trumpet. Condition like hers in that respect is experienced by many persons at the present day. Some utterances made by her lips when she was entranced were successfully used in court, either as proofs, or as helps for obtaining proof, that certain other persons in her neighborhood were in league with Satan--were the devil's familiars. Presentation in court of accusations that had come forth from her vocal organs brought a woman, then on trial for witchcraft, to prompt confession that the allegations were true, and both she and her husband were condemned and executed. Similar resorts for obtaining clews by which to trace crimes to their authors are extensively resorted to now, and frequently with success; but the statements of the entranced and the clairvoyant are not adduced in court, nor should they be, because our world has not yet attained to reliable skill for testing their accuracy; nor are high-minded and trustworthy spirits often willing to expose any guilty mortals to punishment by this world's tribunals and executioners. How far the novel annunciation of their names and some of their practices contributed to the condemnation of the Greensmiths, husband and wife, or whether it did at all, is only matter for conjecture. But that either some influences went out from them and acted upon Ann, or that some went forth from Ann and acted upon them, or that there was reciprocal action back and forth, is only a fair inference from what is stated above, taken in connection with that foot-note of Hutchinson, which is credited to "Goffe the Regicide's Diary," and reads thus: "After one of the witches was hanged, the maid was well." No mention has been met with of any sickness about Ann, excepting the strangely induced _fits_ in which she was used as the mouthpiece of the strange occupant or occupants of her form. Her becoming _well_ may mean no more than a cessation of her fits, or obsessions. That these should cease after the execution of a person or persons with whom she had been in distressing and uncongenial rapport, was perhaps only a natural result from the action of universal laws. Drafts may have been made from her system by forces not her own, which helped invisible beings to act upon the condemned Greensmiths for good or for harm. Occasion for such use of her elements or properties may have ceased as soon as the gallows had finished its work. The fits ceased, perhaps, solely because drafts of special properties from her were discontinued. "After one of the witches was hanged, the maid was well." The execution of one person and the restoration of health to another were viewed by Goffe as cause and effect. The Greensmith woman's confession of the use of her form by her familiar--revolting as the isolated fact would be to us, and will be to the reader--was the controlling reason which influenced us to adduce the case of Ann Cole. We get from the old woman Greensmith an ancient indication, which is paralleled by many unproclaimed modern ones, that astounding possibilities reside within the scope and sway of forces interacting between the realms of matter and of spirit, which possibly and probably may be availed of for elevation as well as for debasement of the human race. Many whispered facts of human experience are to-day indicating that the old woman may have made true statement of her personal experiences. If degradation and fatuity permit the leaking out of some momentous facts of human experience which conscious vessels of fair soundness and delicacy will retain within themselves, and hide from a profaning world's knowledge, that world, nevertheless, may be entitled to hints at the existence of occult, though only rarely perceptibly operative forces and permissions of nature, through the only channels which have let them flow forth for the world's free observation. The Greensmith woman's fact may be regarded as representative of very many others of a like nature. I know a man who once visited a married couple, both of whom are intelligent and refined, both estimable in character, the husband being a highly respected member of one of the learned professions. This couple, at their own dining-table, where they and the visitor were the only occupants of the room, united in stating that once, when they had just finished taking their midday meal, and were sitting at the table opposite to each other, the lady's chair, with herself sitting in it, was moved back by some invisible power, and forthwith she, by palpable but invisible arms, was taken from her seat, laid upon the carpet, and there made to experience all the sensations of actual and pleasurable nuptial coition. While such were her positions and sensations, her husband remained on the other side of the table, and they two were the only flesh-clad persons in the room. One accomplished and truthful lady had such experience while her consciousness and all her mental faculties were fully alert. Nature enfolds astounding possibilities. The human race, in coming times, may possibly be improved rapidly and extensively, by designed infusions of supernal elements into fetal germs. No evidence has come to us, and no apprehension is entertained, that such experiences ever eventuate in physical conception; yet there are seen, now and then, glimmerings of evidence that supernal beings can and do inflow some of their own properties into the very marrow of some susceptible mortals of either gender, or of both simultaneously and conjointly, so as to modify physical systems in such manner and to such extent, that their offspring receive, at the very moment of conception, such properties as will ever afterward render them either better or worse because of injections through the parents by intelligences whose presence and operations elude perception by our external senses. Possibly both the most beneficent and the most malignant of our race--both those whose moral hues most illumine, and those whose shades most blacken the pages of history--were conceived while supernal beings held the parents either under strong psychological control or in deep unconscious trance. The mother of the rough, lustful, and murderous Samson was visited by a spirit being "very terrible." The mother of Jesus was visited by the bright and glorious Gabriel, and enwrapped in an abnormally sound, helpful, or holy aura. Far away from Charlestown and Boston, where the two women noticed in the preceding pages had their homes and met their fate, Ann Cole was the _unconscious_ mouthpiece through which invisible beings carried on dialogues, partly in languages, or, at least, in tones, which she had never learned. The manifestations through her were no imitations of anything before known on this continent, so far as history shows. Her reputed doings were unlike any for which Massachusetts had hanged two of her daughters. From whom came the tones, if not the words, of languages which this possessed girl had never learned? From whom came the things put forth through her which "she knew nothing of"? And especially who "improved her tongue to express what was never in her mind"? Any satisfactory explanation of witchcraft must point out distinctly, and must admit the action of some force competent to all such performances; a force controllable and controlled by intelligence. The facts in the case were set forth by a personal witness of many of them, who wrote at a time when he was not under any excitement or hallucination which their novelty might at first produce, but twenty years subsequent to their occurrence, when their recorder should have been, and no doubt was, calm and cautious, and when, too, the girl's own good character had been confirmed by good Christian deportment through twenty years succeeding the marvels manifested through her organs. If any history is worth reading, Ann Cole's lips were used by intelligences not her own "to express what never was in her mind." Either embodied intelligences--the Greensmiths and their associates whose bodies were not present with her--used her vocal organs, as Hutchinson's account implies that they did, or demons--spirits, as Whiting supposed--spoke through her form. ELIZABETH KNAP. At Groton, Mass., in 1671, Elizabeth Knap was more singularly beset than most others of that century who were deemed bewitched. The authority transmitting an account of her is exceptionally good, having been written by Rev. Samuel Willard, minister then at Groton, in the prime and vigor of life. He had graduated at Harvard College twelve years before, afterward became minister at the Old South Church in Boston, and was for several years at the head of Harvard College. The girl in question was his pupil, residing in his family during the earlier portion of her affliction, and was under his watch till its close. His opportunities for observing the case in its rise and progress were certainly very good, and he made a journalistic account of its phases and progress under many specific dates from October 30, 1671, to January 15, 1672, a space of eleven weeks or more. He was an attentive observer and close questioner of the girl, and also a cautious and intelligent chronicler. She was at first subjected to extraordinary mental moods and violent physical actions, which came on rather gradually, showing themselves in marked singularities of conduct, for which she, when questioned, would give little if any account. Strange, sudden shrieks, strange changes of countenance, appeared first. These were soon followed by the exclamations, "O, my leg!" which she would rub; "O, my breast!" and she would rub that, it seeming to be in pain. Her breath would be stopped. She saw a strange person in the cellar, when her companions there were unable to see any such. She cried out to him, "What cheer, old man?" Afterward came fits, in which she would cry out sometimes, "Money, money!" offered her as inducements to yield obedience; and sometimes, "Sin and misery!" as threats of punishment for refusal to obey the wishes of her strange visitant. She said the devil appeared to her, and that she had seen him at times for three years. He often talked with her, and urged her to make a covenant with him, which she refused to do. November 26, six persons could hardly hold her. The physician, who for about four weeks had considered and treated the malady as a natural one, now pronounced it diabolical. She barked like a dog, bleated like a calf, and seemed at times to be strangled. At length distinct utterances came out. "A grum, low, audible voice" said to Mr. Willard himself, "You are a great rogue--a great rogue;" and yet "her vocal organs did not move." The voice was replied to as being that of Satan himself, and its author responded, "I am not Satan; I am a pretty black boy; this is my pretty girl; I have been here a great while." "When he said to me" (Mr. Willard), "O, you black rogue, I do not love you," I replied, "Through God's grace I hate thee." He rejoined, "You had better love me." The strength shown through the girl, the writer and witness says, "is beyond the force of dissimulation, and the actings of convulsions are quite contrary to these actings." Through all her sufferings "she did not waste in body or strength." Speech came from her without motion of the organs of speech. Also "we observed, when the voice spoke, her throat was swelled formidably, at least as big as one's fist." She said she "saw more devils than any one there ever saw men in the world." No attendant sacrifice of life gave intensification of interest to this Groton case, and it failed to become prominently conspicuous among witchcraft events. Still it is more instructive on some points than almost any other one of them. Here first have we found in colonial history any statement that an intelligence speaking through a borrowed or usurped form disclosed _who_ he was. Mr. Willard, to whose care this girl was intrusted, and in whose family she had been a resident, was convinced that some other being than the girl herself was giving utterance through her lips, and in harmony with a necessary inference from the general faith of his times, addressed the unknown one under supposition that he was veritably _The Devil_. The being thus accosted promptly said, "I am not _Satan_; I am a pretty black boy." The girl said she had been accustomed to see her visitant, at times, during three preceding years, and that she saw more devils than any one there ever saw men in the world. Her notions in reference to the proper application of words were obviously just as loose as the prevalent ones in community then, which deemed any spirit visitant whatsoever a devil, or the devil. An observer of such beings as she saw would to-day call them spirits. When she perceived and called out to some personage invisible to her companions, saying, "What cheer, old man?" she plainly indicated that the being thus hailed was apparently neither more nor less than an old man, and he, judged by her address to him, was by no means austere or repulsive; and yet he doubtless was one of those whom she, or whom the reporter of her utterances, was accustomed to call _devils_. There is no indication that she ever saw one specially huge, malformed, malignant personality, or that she ever intended to indicate perception of such a one. The purposes and moods of Mr. Willard's interlocutor seem to have been playful and kindly, rather than morose and satanic. Temporarily reincarnated spirits are often prone to smile at the long-faced and cringing thoughts which their advent evokes in persons not accustomed to interviews with them. "You are a great rogue--a great rogue," and "you had better love me," can hardly be deemed ill-timed or inappropriate expressions from a lively boy, whatever his hue, who, on being mistaken for the devil, would naturally banter the sedate clergyman whose creed forced him to regard such a visitant as the Prince of Evil. He said truly, and in better spirit than the minister's, it would be better for you to love than to "hate" me. Common fairness asks all men to regard any speaker's account of himself as true, until some reason appears for distrusting him. No word or deed ascribed to this pretty black boy, who said he was not Satan, renders the accuracy of his statement doubtful. Distrust of him, if it spring up, will probably be the offspring of prejudices, combined with ignorance of spirit methods of opening ways to reach man's cognizance, and win him to seek communings with his preceding kindred who possess more experience and consequent greater wisdom than pertains to any dwellers in mortal forms. Our incrustations of ignorance and prejudice withstand every gentle appliance, and yield only to sledge-hammer blows. Sensations, conditions, and various powers attendant on Elizabeth Knap were emphatically extraordinary. Detailed journalistic account of them having come down from a sagacious, cautious, truthful, and cultured man--from one of the eminently trustworthy men of his generation--demands credence. He says the strength of her body was "beyond the force of dissimulation;" that "six persons could hardly hold her;" and that "the actings were contrary to those of convulsions." Another point is, that through the eleven weeks of such rough exploits, "she did not waste in body or strength." Cotton Mather speaks of some who were so preserved through similarly tortured states, that, "at the end of one month's wretchedness, they were as able still to undergo another." Similar preservation of flesh and strength, amid fastings and most excessive activity, are frequent experiences to-day with the highly mediumistic, especially in the earlier stages of their dominations by invisibles. Speech came from her without motion of her vocal organs. That much may pertain to simple ventriloquence; but Mr. Willard says also that "we observed, when the voice spoke, her throat was swelled formidably, at least as big as one's fist." Ventriloquence has not usually such an adjunct as that. Moreover, the minister was convinced that the utterings were prompted by other will than hers. This girl's experience abounds in evidences that her spirit faculties of perception were so freed from hamperings by the outer body, that she could consciously see, hear, and converse with spirits, and that her physical system was subject to control by them for speech in varied forms and modes, and for strange and violent action by her limbs. In parts of the narrative which we have not copied, it appears that accusation came from her lips that Mr. Willard himself and some other godly ones in his parish were her tormentors. This was saying to Samuel in most startling manner, as one of old did to David, "_Thou art the man_;" for at that day faith was common that the devil had not power to accuse a godly person, could not indeed accuse any others than guilty ones of being contributors to outworkings of witchcraft. If the announcement was true, Mr. Willard and other good ones, according to the faith of some at that day, were covenanters with the devil. It was a fearful moment when such accusation of the good clergyman fell upon his ears from the lips of his tortured pupil. His resort, and that of another accused one, was to prayer; and we can readily fancy that petitions heavenward then rose up from the lowest depths of true and earnest souls, and went forth, in the girl's presence, with such psychologizing power as loosened the hold of any spirit possessing her form, and allowed her to regain full possession and control of all her normal powers. This subject of spirit control retained consciousness during her entrancements, or during the times when her body was subject to a will not her own, as many mediums do at this day. Consequently she would possess more or less knowledge of whatever was said or done by her organs and limbs, whoever controlled them. Being young, she could scarcely be competent to make, and keep in remembrance, the broad severance of her individual responsibility for what was done by others and what by herself, through use of her own physical faculties. It was natural--almost necessary--that she should become self-condemnatory for having had done through her what gave distress and anguish to her friends, even though she had lent no voluntary aid to the deeds, nor had power to prevent their being enacted. We presume her statement was true that Mr. Willard and the others then accused were, though unconsciously, made to be contributors of aid to the controllers of his pupil; true that she felt the workings of emanations from them. Twenty years afterward an "afflicted" one in Salem Village began to cry out upon this same man as being one of her afflicters. And why? Because, probably, of constitutional properties in him which spirits could avail themselves of as helps for entrancing or controlling mediumistic persons. The laws which governed detection of tormentors of the bewitched will come under more extended consideration in subsequent parts of our work. Results indicate that Samuel Willard's system possessed either material or psychic properties, or both, which exposed him to accusation of bewitching some sensitives, whose perceptive powers could trace back to their source any mesmerizing forces that entered into and acted efficiently upon their own systems. In his usual temper and judgment witchward, Hutchinson pronounced the sufferings of Elizabeth Knap "fraud, imposture, and ventriloquism"! Shade of Samuel Willard! How look you now, and how shall we mortals look upon the man, who, ninety years after your day, casting a glance backward into the darkened chambers of the long past, perceived yourself to have been a credulous dolt and simpleton, unable, by eleven weeks' close study and vigilant watch, to determine that the source of marvelous phenomena manifested in your own domicile, before your own attentive eyes, was exclusively mundane? From looking at the occurrences, as they lay dormant and half buried under the dust which ninety full years had been throwing over them, Hutchinson saw at a glance that they were nothing but frauds, impostures, and ventriloquism. You, Rev. Sir, at first doubted their supermundane source, but study of and deliberate reflection upon them for weeks satisfied you that your doubts were untenable; you obviously was devoid of such credulity as enabled Hutchinson to very promptly obtain conviction that your Elizabeth was but an actor of fraud and imposture. Alas for your sagacity, Samuel Willard! Upham makes no account of either Ann Cole or Elizabeth Knap, though these were decidedly the best American prototypes of the magic-taught girls in Salem Village, whose schemings and exploits he dwells upon at great length. He claims that the witchcraft generators and enactors there studied, schemed, and practiced in concert at "a circle," and thus learned how, and by what means, to originate and perform it. All known circumstances conspire to indicate that neither Ann Cole nor Elizabeth Knap had either visible teachers or co-operators in their marvelous operations. Therefore, had the historian adduced those two cases--these good exemplars of the performers at Salem--perhaps he would have been asked who trained the isolated performers twenty and thirty years before a necromantic seminary had been founded, at which the arts of magic, necromancy, and Spiritualism could be taught and learned. Was there anywhere a prior institution of that kind? If not, then we ask, was any circle kindred to that at Salem an essential--a _sine qua non_--to acquiring competency for skillful practice of witchcraft? or of acts called witchcraft of old? May not natural endowments sometimes be ample qualification for admitting the evolvement through one's form of very great marvels? If not, the sporadic performances at Hartford and Groton are troublesome to account for. The advent of one spirit to Elizabeth Knap, and his use of her organs of speech in carrying on a dialogue with the Rev. Samuel Willard, is distinctly stated by that trustworthy chronicler. Also, according to him, the girl saw vast hosts of similar beings--yes, more in number than any one present had ever seen men in their lives. Here, surely, is very strong testimony to the general fact that spirit action took sensible effect upon and among human beings away back in 1671-2, in the quiet inland town of Groton. What is fit treatment of such facts and testimony from such a source? Should they be left unadduced and unalluded to, as they were by one elaborate historian? Should they be called outgrowths from "fraud and imposture," as they were by another? Or should writers upon the subject, in manly way, both let the facts come forth and speak for themselves, and leave the sagacity and veracity of their exemplary chronicler above suspicion, till by facts, and fair deductions from them, they render it probable that Samuel Willard was the slave of such delusion as disqualified him for reasoning with common accuracy upon what his external senses perceived day after day and week after week? Shrinking, by an historian of New England's witchcraft, from distinct notice of Willard's deliberate and carefully drawn conclusions from facts transpiring in his presence, is not only a keeping back of important information, but possibly is an implication either that Willard himself was an unreliable witness, or a witness on the other side of the question, whose testimony would be troublesome. Generous blood boils with rebuke when boasted enlightenment either ignores or traduces the most competent and trustworthy transmitters of marvelous facts, where so doing facilitates command of room for setting up modern fancies in niches where ancient facts have rightful foothold. On the good authority of Samuel Willard we find that Elizabeth Knap saw hosts of spirits, was roughly handled and spoken through by some of them, and by one who said he was _not Satan_, but a pretty black boy. This was a case of spirit manifestation. THE MORSE FAMILY. Late in the year 1679, in the part of old Newbury, Mass., which is now Newburyport, very many startling pranks occurred, of a kind which to-day are called physical manifestations. These clustered mostly in and around the dwelling-place of William Morse, an aged man, who with his wife, then sixty-five years old, and their little grandson, John Stiles, constituted the whole family. Perusal of the records of this case has rendered it probable to us that Mrs. Morse, the little boy John, and a young mariner, Caleb Powell, who was frequently in at Morse's house, were all distinctly mediumistic, and that their systems either supplied, or were used for holding, instrumental elements and forces which spirits used in imparting seeming vitality, will, self-guiding and motive powers to andirons, pots, kettles, trays, bedsteads, and many other implements and articles. Beauty and attractiveness seldom drape the foundations of even very elegant and useful structures. Laborers digging trenches for foundations, and others placing stones therein, are frequently rough beings, in homely garbs, from whom the refined and sensitive often turn away as soon as politeness and civility permit. Yet, though rough, coarse, and unsightly materials go into foundations, and equally rough workmen lay them, the nature and quality of materials there used, and of work there performed, deserve inspection by any one whose duty, interest, or pleasure induces him to estimate with approximate accuracy the value and prospective utility of the structure which shall rest thereon. Palpable, audible, visible pranks, seeming to be the willed actions of lifeless wood and iron, possibly occurred in the seventeenth, because they are common in the nineteenth century. Such pranks are foundations of arguments which prove a life after death. A table, a chair, or an andiron, manifesting all the usual signs of indwelling vitality, consciousness, intelligence, self-willed action, and of possessing animal senses and capacities, testifies to its being operated upon by some unseen intelligence more convincingly than can the lips of the wisest and truest man the world contains testify to any fact whatsoever which seems supernatural. Vitalized wood or iron speaks "as never man spake;" yes, as man, unless specially aided from outside of the visible world, can never speak; it addresses men's external senses directly; it confides its teachings to the most trusted and most trustworthy conveyances of facts and truths to the mind within. The oft ridiculed, slurred, contemned antics of household furniture are signs put forth to human view by occult operators, whose stand-point, of vision and powers of comprehension enable them to use some natural laws and forces for affecting man and his interests, which human scientists have never clearly cognized, which schoolmen do not embrace in their philosophies, and therefore the cultured world generally has failed to put forth rational and satisfactory explanations of many marvels which the ocean of mystery is often buoying up on to its surface, where they become perceptible by human senses. Modern mind has very extensively measured the credibility of witnesses to witchcraft facts much as the good woman did that of her "sailor boy." On his return home from a voyage around the Hope, he soon began to describe what he had seen, and gave an account of flying fish. "Stop, stop, my son," said the mother; "don't talk like that; people can't believe that, because fishes haven't got no wings, and can't fly." "Well, mother," replied Jack, "I'll pass by the fish, and tell what happened in the Red Sea. When we weighed anchor there, we drew up on its flukes some spokes and felloes of Pharaoh's chariot wheels." "That, now," rejoined the mother, "will do to tell; we can believe that, because _that is in the Bible_." In similar manner many people are prone to measure the credibility of witnesses by the reconcilability of the things testified to, with the general previous knowledge, observations, and experiences of the world. Such a course is usually very well. But the rule it involves is not applicable in all cases. Veritable flying fish exist, notwithstanding the mother conceived them to be nothing but the fictions of her wild boy's lively fancy. The facts of witchcraft may have been veritable; many witnesses who testified to them may have been both truthful and accurate describers, notwithstanding the incredulity of some historians whose philosophies are too narrow to enwrap many facts which exist. The strange manifestations at Morse's house, we have said before, were nearly all such as to-day are denominated _physical_ ones; that is, such as are manifested either upon, or through use of, matter that is uncontrolled by any mortal's mind. Few if any intelligible utterances or communications imputed to invisible intelligences contributed to the consternation which was then excited in Newbury. This case differs very widely from either of those previously noticed both as to the objects directly acted upon mysteriously, and as to the human organs employed. It invites to extended and careful attention. We must transfer to our pages numerous, and some long, extracts from the old records; else we shall fail to manifest with desirable clearness and authority the multiplicity and character of those marvelous works, and their probable sources and authors. Mr. Morse himself, for aught that appears, escaped all suspicion of complicity with, or connivance at, the strange doings. He seemingly came forth from the furnace with no sulphurous smell about him. Caleb Powell, a young seaman, mate of some vessel, but then on shore, was the first person to be legally accused in this case. He was arraigned at the instance, and on the testimony, of Mr. Morse himself. Some peculiar characteristics and habits ascribed to Powell were such as would naturally cause him to be watched, if strange doings appeared where he was present. In "Annals of Witchcraft, Woodward's Historical Series," No. VIII. p. 142, it is stated that Powell "pretended to a knowledge in the occult sciences, and that by means of this knowledge he could detect the witchcraft then going on at Mr. Morse's.... The dancing of pots and kettles, the bowing of chairs, &c., was resumed with more vigor than ever when Powell came there 'to detect the witchcraft.'" Upham, vol. i. p. 440, says Powell "determined to see what it all meant, and to put a stop to it, if he could, went to the house, and soon became satisfied that a roguish grandchild was the cause of all the trouble.... It is not unlikely, that, in foreign ports, he had witnessed exhibitions of necromancy and mesmerism, which, in various forms and under different names, have always been practiced. Possibly he may have _boasted to be a medium himself_, a scholar and adept in the mystic art, able to read and divine 'the workings of spirits.' At any rate, when it became known that, at a glance, he attributed to the boy the cause of the mischief, and that it ceased on his taking him away from the house, the opinion became settled that he was a wizard.... His astronomy, astrology, and _Spiritualism_ brought him in peril of his life." It is no unusual thing for even wise men to write much more wisely than they know. If Powell correctly "_at a glance_ ... found the boy to be the cause of the mischief," it becomes probably a _fact_, and not simply a _boast_, that he was "a medium himself," that he was "a wizard," or knowing one, and that his "Spiritualism," more _accurately_ his mediumistic capabilities, "brought him in peril of his life." One authority says the play "was resumed with more vigor than ever" when he came into the house. For some reason he was very soon arraigned and tried for witchcraft, but not convicted. We have little doubt that his optics saw the boy performing tricks, and therefore can believe that he accused John in good faith; just as the clairvoyant soon to be noticed accused the medium Read. Powell probably saw the boy perpetrating the mischief. But with what eyes? The outer or the inner--his material or his spiritual ones? And which boy did he see? The external or the internal one--the boy material or the boy spiritual? In evidence both that our explanations of Powell's doings will be neither sheer novelty nor mere fancy, and for the purpose of disseminating knowledge of highly important facts, the following extracts are taken from an instructive and interesting pamphlet upon "Mediums and Mediumship," by Thomas R. Hazard: Wm. White & Co., Boston, 1873. "I once saw Read" (a well-known medium for physical manifestations) "affected by the abrupt introduction of light at one of his circles in Boston, at which he was, as usual, securely tied by a committee chosen by the audience, and fastened securely to his chair. The manifestations were after the common order, and went on harmoniously until an Indian war-song and dance were inaugurated. The exhibition was very exciting, and both the song and the dance became so uproarious and violent that, although we were in a three-story back room, I was apprehensive that not only the temporary platform might give way, but that the attention of the police might be attracted to the spot by the noise. Near by me sat Miss F., an excellent clairvoyant medium, who was earnestly describing to some of her friends the scene that was being enacted on the platform. She stated that two powerful Indians stood by Read, and that it was he who performed the wonderful dance.... Thus one of the best 'dark-circle mediums in the United States' was not only proved to be an 'impostor,' but taken in the very act of his trickery.... From all that was occurring before us, it was too evident that Read was an impostor; for 'Miss F. clairvoyantly saw him perform tricks which he palmed off on the public as spiritual.'... But now, ... mark the sequel, and observe how easy it is for those who suffer their zeal to outrun their knowledge to be mistaken; and how true it is that as spiritual things can only be discerned by the spiritual eye, and material things only by the material eye, so the spiritual eye can (under ordinary circumstances) discern only spiritual things, as the material eye can discern only material things. "It seems that a self-lighting burner had been adjusted near the platform, at which an experienced man from the gas-works was stationed, with the gas-cock in his hand, ready at a moment's notice to turn on the light. This man was within hearing distance of Miss F., and must have heard her remarks;... he gave the cock a sudden turn, and in an instant all was light, and of course the medium was--_exposed_--sitting fast bound in his chair, with every knot as perfect as when first tied, but in a dying condition from the effect of the tremendous shock his nervous system underwent by the sudden return of the unusual volume of elements that had been extracted from his physical body to furnish material clothing for his own _double_, or some other spiritual creation, that was performing the exhausting war-song and dance on the platform; nor is it probable that Miss F. ever saw the _material_ body of Read during the whole time she _clairvoyantly_ saw him.... Suffice it to say, that the suffering medium was released from his bonds as soon as practicable, but not until after three or four minutes had expired, ... after which, by the application of restoratives, Read was gradually revived, and restored to his right mind and condition." Such statement of direct personal observations--coming from the pen of an aged, but still vigorous, gentleman of ample pecuniary means, of more than average culture, of acute perceptions, of careful and critical observations, who has spent many years in "trying the spirits" and contesting the strength and quality of testimony in their favor at every step,--who hates, with a righteous and outspoken hatred, falsehood, fraud, imposture, oppression, or hypocrisy, wherever or in whatever cause they manifest themselves--is entitled to credence, and gives important inklings of some occasional methods of spirit operations upon and around mediums. From such a witness we learn that while a medium's limbs were bound fast, and he claiming to be, and known, a few minutes before, to have been, sitting bound hand and foot on a stage in a room just made dark, a lady clairvoyant there present saw him loose, and moving about most vigorously over the stage, doing "things, as to jump up and down," as Powell saw the Morse boy acting. The clairvoyant's inner vision saw Read dancing--saw either a perfect semblance of him, formed by use of special properties drawn forth from his system, or else saw the veritable Read himself practically then a disembodied and unroped spirit. She no doubt actually saw thus, and saw the essential man Read loosed, and dancing most vigorously. A flash of light, however, let suddenly on at the time, enabled all external eyes to see the external form of Read sitting all fast bound upon the chair. That case teaches that properties drawn forth from the little boy John Stiles, and molded into that boy's form, may have, by Powell's interior vision, been seen playing tricks with pots and kettles, while neither the boy's consciousness, will, or physical muscles had the slightest connection with the antic articles. Facts showing such susceptibilities in human organisms as were manifested in the case of Read, are too significant and important for any scientist, philosopher, or historian to ignore, so long as he claims to be, or, in fact, can be, a wise and helpful expounder of very many records of ancient marvels. At page 392, vol. ii., of Mather's "Magnalia," New Haven ed., 1820, account is given of this case wherein it is stated that,-- "A little boy belonging to the family was a principal sufferer in these molestations; for he was flung about at such a rate that they feared his brains would have been beaten out: nor _did they find it possible to hold him_.... The man took him to keep him in a chair; but the chair fell a dancing, and both of them were very near being thrown into the fire. "These and a thousand such vexations befalling the boy at home, they carried him to live abroad at a doctor's. There he was quiet; but returning home, he suddenly cried out he was pricked on the back, where they found strangely sticking a _three-tined fork_, which belonged unto the doctor, and had been seen at his house after the boy's _departure_. Afterward his troublers found him out _at the doctor's also_; where, crying out again he was pricked on the back, they found an _iron spindle_ stuck into him. "He was taken out of his bed, and thrown under it; and all the knives belonging to the house were one after another stuck into his back, which the spectators pulled out; only one of them seemed to the spectators to come out of his mouth. The poor boy was divers times thrown into the fire, and preserved from scorching there with much ado. For a long while he barked like a dog, clucked like an hen, and could not speak rationally. His tongue would be pulled out of his mouth; but when he could recover it so far as to speak, he complained that _a man called P----l appeared unto him as the cause of all_. "The man and his wife taking the boy to bed with them ... they were severely pinched and pulled out of bed.... But before the _devil_ was chained up, the invisible hand which did all these things began to put on an astonishing _visibility_. They often thought they felt the hand that scratched them, while yet they saw it not; but when they thought they had hold of it, it would give them the slip. "Once the _fist_ beating the man was discernible, but they could not catch hold of it. At length an apparition of a _Blackamoor child_ showed itself plainly to them.... A voice sang _revenge! revenge! sweet is revenge_. At this the people, being terrified, called upon God; whereupon there followed a mournful note, several times uttering these expressions--_Alas! alas! we knock no more, we knock no more!_ and there was an end of all." In no other remembered account is that little boy credited with saying anything whatsoever. Mather reports that upon coming out of one of his scenes of torture so far as to recover power of speech, "he complained that a man called P----l appeared unto him as the cause of all." That statement discloses a fact worth observing. There was tit for tat between little John and Powell. Each found the other a focus of issuing force that caused the witchery. The sensitive boy probably saw and felt, by his interior faculties, that properties and forces from Powell were applied to the strangely moving objects, and also in producing his own sufferings. Powell, too, through his inner perceptives, could learn the same in relation to the boy. Both were probably right in their perceptions, and in their allegations. Mr. Morse suspected and complained of Powell. That is something in favor of deeming John the lesser focus of force in this case. The mauling "fist" was once seen, but eluded grasping, as spirit limbs generally do. At last, a "Blackamoor child," perhaps brother to Elizabeth Knap's "pretty black boy," was visible--and not only that, but audible also. If it was the spirit of either an Indian or African child, sympathizing with his own race, and who had been taught to look upon all whites as oppressors, _revenge_ would naturally be _sweet_ to such a one, or to a band of such. Earnest, heartfelt prayer might psychologically break their hold, and induce them to say, "we knock no more." Though Powell, when tried, escaped conviction, yet, said the court, "he hath given such grounds of suspicion of working by the devil, that we cannot acquit him;" therefore the judges charged him with the costs attending the prosecution of _himself_. Such was equity practice in those days. Having failed to prove conclusively that the harum-scarum sailor boy was the devil's conduit for the startling occurrences among them, the good people of Newbury naturally proceeded to inquire what other person was the channel through which his sable majesty was pouring out malignity. Who, next to Powell, among those present at the manifestations, was most likely to have made a covenant with the Evil One? All eyes would turn instinctively to the spot where the deviltries transpired, and to persons who were generally near by when and where the performances came off. The inmates of the house of exhibition, Mr. Morse, Mrs. Morse, and their grandson, John Stiles, would naturally be very keenly watched and thoroughly scrutinized. Their traits, habits, and antecedents would be fully discussed; it was almost certain that one of the three must be guilty; and which of them was most likely to be the devil's tool? Result shows that Mrs. Morse was pitched upon. But why she? Her character was good--she was religious and beneficent. _But--but--_ Mrs. Jane Sewall--Woodward's "Hist. Series," No. VIII. p. 281--testified and said, "Wm. Morse, being at my house, ... some years since, ... begun of his own accord to say that his wife was accounted a _witch_; but he did wonder that she should be both a healing and a destroying witch, and gave this instance. The wife of Thomas Wells, being come to the time of her delivery, was not willing (by motion of his sister in whose house she was) to send for Goodwife Morse, though she were the next neighbor, and continued a long season in strong labor and could not be delivered; but when they saw the woman in such a condition, and without any hopeful appearance of delivery, determined to send for the said G. Morse, and so Tho. Wells went to her and desired her to come; who, at first, made a difficulty of it, as being unwilling, not being sent for sooner. Tho. Wells said he would have come sooner, but sister would not let him; so, at last she went, and quickly after her coming the woman was delivered." Therefore, some years before the time of Mrs. Morse's trial, Mr. Morse, in Mrs. Sewall's own house, volunteered "to say that his wife was accounted a _witch_;" at which he wondered because of her beneficence, and then he instanced her doings in the case of Mrs. Wells as evidence of her goodness. The accounts pertaining to her render it probable that Mrs. Morse sometimes acted as midwife, and show clearly that some people had previously called her a witch. Such reports being in circulation, it is not surprising that some women should object to admitting her into their houses, fearing the introduction of brimstone; while others, who had previously found her help very efficient, would seek her assistance in hours of pain or sickness. The point of most significance is, that Mrs. Morse had, some years previous to the disturbances at her house, _been suspected of witchcraft_. Why? We do not know with any certainty. But the appearance that she was a midwife, whose labors involved more or less of general medical practice, suggests the possibility that her "simple remedies," or her hands, had sometimes produced such extraordinary effects, as led people to surmise that the devil must be her helper; just as, for the same reasons, more than thirty years before, he was believed to be co-operator with Margaret Jones. The conjecture naturally follows that she was highly mediumistic, and that her intuitions and magnetism, if nothing more, enabled and caused her to be a worker of marvelous cures. It was at the abode of such a woman, and in apartments saturated with her emanations, that the unseen ones frequently held high, rude, and consternating frolic, during many weeks; it was at the home of one _previously_ reputed a _witch_. An indication that, even before the wonders occurred at her home, she had been suspected of exercising also perceptive faculties that were more than human; had been suspected of manifesting "wit" of the special kind which cost Ann Hibbins her life, is given in the following deposition by Margaret Mirack, who testified thus, Woodward's "Hist. Series," No. VIII. p. 287:-- "A letter came from Pispataqua by Mr. Tho. Wiggens. We got Mr. Wiggens to read the letter, and he went his way; and I promised to conceal the letter after it was read to my husband and myself, and we both did conceal it; nevertheless, in a few days after, Goode Morse met me, and clapt me on the back, and said, 'I commend you for sending such an answer to the letter.' I presently asked her, what letter? Why, said she, hadst not thee such a letter from such a man at such a time? I came home presently and examined my husband about it. My husband presently said, What? Is she a witch or a cunning woman? Whereupon we examined our family, and they said they knew nothing of the letter." Mrs. Morse's possession of their secret was so unaccountable that the husband in astonishment asked, "Is she a witch or a cunning woman?" The question implies that it seemed so extraordinary to the man that she should have knowledge of the letter and its answer, that any process by which she could obtain it was seemingly beyond the power of mortals to apply. Either witchcraft or supernal cunning must have helped her. When asked by the same Mrs. Mirack afterward "_how_ she came to know it," the witness says, Mrs. Morse "told me she could not tell." This indicates a mind so conditioned, as many mediumistic ones now are, that knowledge is inflowed to them, they know not whence or how, and, literally, they _cannot_ tell whence it has come. This gives presumption that she possessed mediumistic receptivities, and the outworkings from such faculties would suggest that she received supernal aid. The only imagined source of such aid at that day was the devil. Obviously she "felt knowledge in her bones," as the acute negress did in Mrs. Stowe's "Minister's Wooing." Though Mrs. Morse was tried and condemned for witchcraft, the sentence was never put in execution. When on her way from Ipswich jail to Boston for trial, she said, among other things, that "she was accused about witchcraft, but that she was as clear of it as God in heaven." When saying this she probably spoke no more than exact truth. She appears to have been a good woman. The candid and generally cautious Rev. Mr. Hale, of Beverly, wrote that "her husband, who was esteemed a sincere and understanding Christian by those that knew him, desired some neighbor ministers, of whom I was one, to discourse with his wife, which we did; and her discourse _was very Christian_, and still pleaded her innocence as to that which was laid to her charge." This examination occurred after her discharge from prison. The aged couple came out from their severe ordeal with characters bright enough to claim the confidence and respect of good men in their own day, and may claim as much from after ages. There is no indication that the boy of the house, John Stiles, whom Powell accused as the great mischief-maker, was suspected of being such by any other one of the many witnesses of the strange transactions. Those witnesses were much better judges as to what persons the wonders apparently proceeded from, than any person can be to-day; and one whom they left unblamed, it is distinct injustice, as well as folly, for expounders of the case in our times to put forth and traduce as having been the contriver and performer of all that so agitated, distressed, and exposed the lives of those who sheltered, fed, and kindly cared for him. Modern historians, however, have been guilty of this great wrong. It has recently been stated (Woodward's "Hist. Series," No. VIII. p. 141), that, "what instigated him to undertake the tormenting of his grand-parents, there is no mention as yet discovered." This begs the primal question, viz., _Did_ he undertake to torment them? To this inquiry it can truly be said, there is no mention in the primitive records, as yet discovered, that he did. There is no evidence that any one but Caleb Powell (that swift witness) suspected him of undertaking any such thing. Where the records are so extensive and full as in this case, their omission to mention any other accusers of the boy is strong evidence that there was no apparent contriving or executing pranks and outrages by him. The writer above quoted says also, "How long the young scamp carried on his annoyances ... does not appear." Neither does it appear that he ever began or was consciously concerned in any such. Only in appearance, and that only to Caleb Powell the clairvoyant, and to the eyes of modern commentators, was that boy in fault. Upham, following the witchy Powell's lead, ignorantly regards what was done by mystical use of the boy's properties as being the boy's voluntary performances. And regarding the boy as a great rogue, and as author of all the great mischief, he says (vol. i. p. 448), "His audacious operations were persisted in to the last." We look upon that allegation as an "audacious" defamation of an innocent youth. In this Morse case we chose to present ostensible and reputed actors, prior to presenting descriptions of the special scenes in which history makes them prominent, because considerable knowledge of the age, character, and abilities pertaining to the chief supposed performers in the great Newbury tragedy, or semi-tragedy, will be helpful, if not essential, to any well-based conclusion as to whether any one of them was the leading intelligence that brought it upon the stage, and supervised and managed its apparent actors--and, if either was, then which one among them? If neither of them, then somebody else was manager there. Our instructive citation from Hazzard discloses the occasional action of agents and forces that are not recognized even to-day by the community at large, and therefore we wished it to be read in advance of facts which it greatly helps to explain. Way is now opened for introducing to those readers whose patience has sustained them through this long prologue, the facts of the case as stated by William Morse himself, and sworn to by both him and his wife. "THE TESTIMONY OF WILLIAM MORSE: which saith, together with his wife, aged both about sixty-five years: that, Thursday night, being the twenty-seventh day of November, we heard a great noise without, round the house, of knocking of the boards of the house, and, as we conceived, throwing of stones against the house. Whereupon myself and wife looked out and saw nobody, and the boy all this time with us; but we had stones and sticks thrown at us, that we were forced to retire into the house again. Afterward we went to bed, and the boy with us; and then the like noise was upon the roof of the house. "2. The same night, about midnight, the door being locked when we went to bed, we heard a great hog in the house grunt and make a noise, as we thought willing to get out; and that we might not be disturbed in our sleep, I rose to let him out, and I found a hog in the house and the door unlocked: the door was firmly locked when we went to bed. "3. The next morning, a stick of links hanging in the chimney, they were thrown out of their place, and we hanged them up again, and they were thrown down again, and some into the fire. "4. The night following, I had a great awl lying in the window, the which awl we saw fall down out of the chimney into the ashes by the fire. "5. After this, I bid the boy put the same awl into the cupboard, which we saw done, and the door shut to: this same awl came presently down the chimney again in our sight, and I took it up myself. Again, the same night, we saw a little Indian basket, that was in the loft before, come down the chimney again. And I took the same basket, and put a piece of brick into it, and the basket with the brick was gone, and came down again the third time with the brick in it, and went up again the fourth time, and came down again without the brick; and the brick came down again a little after. "6. The next day, being Saturday, stones, sticks, and pieces of bricks came down so that we could not quietly dress our breakfast; and sticks of fire also came down at the same time. "7. That day, in the afternoon, my thread four times taken away, and came down the chimney; again my awl and gimlet wanting; again my leather taken away, came down the chimney; again my nails, being in the cover of a firkin, taken away, came down the chimney. Again, the same night, the door being locked, a little before day, hearing a hog in the house, I rose and saw the hog to be mine. I let him out. "8. The next day, being Sabbath day, many stones, and sticks, and pieces of bricks came down the chimney: on the Monday, Mr. Richardson and my brother being there, the frame of my cowhouse they saw very firm. I sent my boy out to scare the fowls from my hog's meat: he went to the cow-house and it fell down, my boy crying with the hurt of the fall. In the afternoon, the pots hanging over the fire did dash so vehemently one against the other, we set down one, that they might not dash to pieces. I saw the andiron leap into the pot, and dance and leap out; and again leap in and dance, and leap out again, and leap on a table and there abide; and my wife saw the andiron on the table: also I saw the pot turn itself over, and throw down all the water. Again we saw a tray with wool leap up and down, and throw the wool out, and so many times, and saw nobody meddle with it. Again, a tub his hoop fly off of itself, and the tub turn over, and nobody near it. Again, the woollen wheel turned upside down, and stood up on its end, and a spade set on it: Step. Greenleafe saw it, and myself and my wife. Again, my rope-tools fell down upon the ground before my boy could take them, being sent for them; and the same thing of nails tumbled down from the loft into the ground, and nobody near. Again, my wife and the boy making the bed, the chest did open and shut; the bed-clothes could not be made to lie on the bed, but fly off again." The disturbances commenced Thursday night, November 27; on December 3, six days only from the commencement of the troubles (see Upham, vol. i. p. 439), Powell was complained of before a magistrate, by William Morse, "for suspicion of working with the devil." Powell appeared for a hearing five days later, on the 8th, and the testimony quoted above was, either then or at the time of the complaint on the 3d, submitted before Jo. Woodbridge, _commissioner_. Therefore the facts were of such recent occurrence as to be fresh in the memory of the deponent; and his prompt suspicion of Powell gives probability to the correctness of the statement in Woodward's Series, that when Powell came to the house, pots, kettles, and chairs "resumed" their action "with more vigor than ever." Powell's presence was helpful to the performance. But the whole of Morse's testimony is not embraced in the preceding. There is extant "A FURTHER TESTIMONY OF WILLIAM MORSE AND HIS WIFE," as follows:-- "We saw a keeler of bread turn over against me, and struck me, not any being near it, and so overturned. I saw a chair standing in the house, and not anybody near. It did often bow toward me, and rise up again. My wife also being in the chamber, the chamber door did violently fly together, not anybody being near it. My wife going to make a bed, it did move to and fro, not anybody being near it. I also saw an iron wedge and spade was flying out of the chamber on my wife, and _did not strike her_. My wife going into the cellar, a drum, standing in the house, did roll over the door of the cellar; and being taken up again, the door did violently fly down again. My barn-doors four times unpinned, I know not how. I, going to shut my barn-door, looking for the pin--the boy being with me--as I did judge, the pin, coming down out of the air, did fall down near to me. "Again: Caleb Powell came in as aforesaid, and seeing our spirits very low by the sense of our great affliction, began to bemoan our condition, and said that he was troubled for our afflictions, and said that he had eyed this boy, and drawed near to us with great compassion: 'Poor old man, poor old woman! This boy is the occasion of your grief; for he hath done these things, and hath caused his good old grandmother to be counted a witch.' 'Then,' said I, 'how can all these things be done by him?' Said he, 'Although he may not have done all, yet most of them; for this boy is a young rogue, a vile rogue. I have watched him and see him do things as to come up and down.' Caleb Powell also said he had understanding in Astrology and Astronomy, and knew the working of spirits, some in one country and some in another; and, looking on the boy, said, 'You young rogue to begin so soon. Goodman Morse, if you be willing to let me have this boy, I will undertake you shall be free from any trouble of this kind while he is with me.' I was very unwilling at the first, and my wife; but, by often urging me, till he told me wither and what employment and company he should go, I did consent to it, and this was before Jo. Badger came; and we have been freed from any trouble of this kind ever since that promise, made on Monday night last, to this time being Friday in the afternoon. Then we heard a great noise in the other room, oftentimes, but, looking after it, could not see anything; but, afterward looking into the room, we saw a board hanged to the press. Then we, being by the fire, sitting in a chair, my chair often would not stand still, but ready to throw me backward oftentimes. Afterward, my cap almost taken off my head three times. Again, a great blow on my poll, and my cat did leap from me into the chimney-corner. Presently after, this cat was thrown at my wife. We saw the cat to be ours; we put her out of the house, and shut the door. Presently the cat was throwed into the house. We went to go to bed. Suddenly--my wife being with me in bed, the lamp-light by our side--my cat again throwed at us five times, jumping away presently into the floor; and one of those times, a red waistcoat throwed on the bed, and the cat wrapped up in it. Again, the lamp standing by us on the chest, we said it should stand and burn out; but presently was beaten down, and all the oil shed, and we left in the dark. Again--a great voice, a great while very dreadful. Again--in the morning, a great stone, being six-pound weight, did move from place to place; we saw it. Two spoons throwed off the table, and presently the table throwed down. And, being minded to write, my ink-horn was hid from me, which I found covered with a rag, and my pen quite gone. I made a new pen; and while I was writing, one ear of corn hit me in the face, and fire, sticks, and stones throwed at me, and my pen brought to me. While I was writing with my new pen, my ink-horn taken away; and not knowing how to write any more, we looked under the table and there found him; and so I was able to write again. Again--my wife her hat taken from her head, sitting by the fire by me, the table almost thrown down. Again--my spectacles thrown from the table, and thrown almost into the fire by me, and my wife, and the boy. Again--my book of all my accounts thrown into the fire, and had been burnt presently, if I had not taken it up. Again--boards taken off a tub, and set upright by themselves; and my paper, do what I could, hardly keep it while I was writing this relation, and things thrown at me while a-writing. Presently, before I could dry my writing, a Mormouth hat rubbed along it; but I held so fast that it did blot but some of it. My wife and I, being much afraid that I should not preserve it for public use, did think best to lay it in the Bible, and it lay safe that night. Again--the next day I would lay it there again; but in the morning, it was not there to be found, the bag hanged down empty; but after was found in a box alone. Again--while I was writing this morning, I was forced to forbear writing any more, I was so disturbed with so many things constantly thrown at me." Such is the account given by an eye and ear witness, who had as good opportunities to receive sensible demonstration of acts performed as can well be imagined. Did he see, hear, and feel all that he testifies to? Has he left record of a series of facts, or only of fictions which he set forth as facts? Was he a faithful and true witness, or not? Who and what was he? An aged shoemaker, who ran the gantlet of a fierce witchcraft ordeal and came out with character sound and untarnished; a man who "was esteemed a sincere and understanding Christian by those that knew him." The strong words in his favor, which came from such a trustworthy scribe as the Rev. Mr. Hale, on an occasion when circumstances would influence him to be careful and exact in expression, are clearly indicative that Morse's testimony was probably true and discriminative. "A sincere and _understanding_ Christian." What qualities give better _a priori_ promise of correct testimony than do sincerity and a sound understanding? Where these combine, their utterances imperatively claim very respectful hearing by any one who is in pursuit of positive facts pertaining to human experience. The history of him and his family, during those ten or eleven days and nights through which they were enveloped in the waters of mystery, trouble, and consternation, gives no indication that Mr. Morse's reason ever yielded its normal and just sway over his actions or his words--no indication of his being blinded by any excessive or bewildering excitement or enthusiasm. The fact that he himself wrote out with his own hand, and in the very midst of the startling and hair-lifting phenomena, a narrative of events which gives dates, occurrences, and experiences clearly, in perspicuous and often terse language, accompanied by appropriate specifications of circumstances which elucidate the character of the whole scene, bespeaks a straightforward, truthful, unexaggerating mind, self-controlled, and moving straight forward in an honest statement of events actually witnessed. Our ancient records contain few testimonies that exhibit clearer or stronger internal evidences of exactitude and reliability than that of William Morse. The form, language, and tone of his account are all in favor of his intelligence, discrimination, and credibility; so much so, that, taken in connection with his whole character, we can conceive of no objection to crediting his narration, excepting what shall be wrung out from the nature and kind of facts he swore to. But neither their nature nor source was concern of his, _as a witness_; and his own sound _understanding_ perceiving this, kept him back from expressing any surmises or innuendoes as to who were the actual authors of his great annoyances. The man understood his position as a witness, kept his reason at the helm throughout the fearful storm, and suspected and accused, not the little boy, but Powell. Obviously his own senses, unbeclouded by the mists of unreasoning excitement, had witnessed the facts he stated, and he knew that they had occurred. His testimony is true. How can the occurrence of such facts be explained, or rather _who_ produced them? Historians say that the little boy, John, did. How could he? Had history-weaving heads, when at work in the quiet study, been as clear and as free from the blinding action of foregone conclusions, as was that of Mr. Morse amid the flying missiles about his head while he was writing, their reason, as his did, would have asked their witness Powell, "How _could_ all these things be done by him," the boy? And the cowed witness would have replied to them in the nineteenth century as he did to Morse in the seventeenth, "Although he may not have done _all_, yet, most of them." He would have backed down before the historians as he did before the better "understanding" of Mr. Morse. Obviously to common sense, the boy was incompetent to perform a tithe of what was ascribed to him. No one but Powell accused him. The age of that boy is not given. He is not known to have been called upon as a witness, and Powell says to him, "You young rogue, to begin so soon." These facts, together with the absence of any words spoken by him to any one, excepting on a single occasion, lead naturally to the inference that he was quite young, and perhaps also that he was apparently inactive. At no age in boyhood, nor yet in manhood, could a single performer, or a host of men, have accomplished by unobservable processes and forces all that is distinctly stated to have been performed in and around the house of William Morse. Any designation of its source which avows the mischief to have come primarily from the mind of little John Stiles, by necessary implication impeaches Mr. Morse's powers of perception and observation, and the worth of his testimony. It indirectly, at least, accuses him of a great blunder when he suspected Powell rather than little John. On the hypothesis of modern historians, the sedate old man--the "understanding Christian"--was but making much ado about nothing, or next to that; for the little boy was not competent to much. So little could he do alone, that, were he the chief deviser and performer, Mr. Morse was incompetent to distinguish with common acuteness between the ordinary and the marvelous, or else he was an egregious fictionist and impostor. Far, far better would it be both for himself and his readers if the historic instructor recognized, and based his inferences upon, facts well attested, and sought for agents and forces adequate to manifest such results as were evolved. Vastly better would be history when founded upon broad comprehension of existing agents and forces, and a firm basis in the nature of things spreading out wide enough to underlie each and all of the ancient marvels, and admitting an imputation of them to authors whose inherent powers could bring them out to distinct cognition by human senses, than it can be when it ruthlessly pares down the dimensions of facts, dwarfs their fair import, and impeaches the trustworthiness of those who solemnly attested to the truth of descriptions which have come down from former generations! Better, much better would it be to honor the fathers by omitting to undermine and topple over their strong powers and good traits of character, and perversely bring their positive knowledge, gained through the senses, down to the lower level on which modern speculation obtains convictions! Descent to free and reiterated insinuations and allegations that the best individuals and communities of old were infatuated, credulous, deluded, stultified, because some of their statements and actions are unexplainable by our theories and philosophies, is unbecoming any generous and philanthropic spirit. Fair play calls for frank admission that giant facts occurred of old,--facts so huge that they cannot be stretched at full length upon the beds of modern science and philosophy, nor be wrapped up in the narrow blankets now in fashion,--facts so huge that they cannot squeeze themselves through, nor be forced through, the narrow entrance doors of some modern mental chambers. Does the hugeness which debars them from entering contracted domiciles to-day prove their existence to be but fabulous? Surely not. The sagacity and truthfulness of our predecessors were sound and good. They recorded facts. Shame be to those who are ashamed to admit that their equals in mental acuteness and accuracy of statement may, of old, actually have witnessed genuine phenomena which justified their descriptions. To brand the events as being the products of fraud, credulity, and infatuation, because only modern limitations to nature's permissions and powers render them unexplainable as facts, is shameful. Newbury, in 1679-80, was obviously visited and disturbed by giants. To deem that the biggest of these were children of little John Stiles, is not only farcical in the extreme, but it necessarily, however indirectly, asperses good William Morse, that "sincere and understanding Christian," and also his equally good wife, who passed through the severe ordeals of witchcraft scenes and persecutions, and came forth untarnished,--asperses them by an imputation of incompetency to observe and describe with average clearness and accuracy events that passed before their eyes,--incompetency to give a truthful and unexaggerated account of what they saw. Every sentiment of justice begs for a tongue with which to rebuke the sneers that overweeningly wise witchcraft historians have cast upon the senses and the mental and moral states of the observers and describers of the great marvels of former days. The foul broods of harpy adjectives which history has sent forth to prey upon the vitals of good characters for truthfulness and discrimination, should be forced to unloose their talons, and hie themselves back to roost where they were hatched. Assuming, as the histories of all nations in all ages and lands indicate, and as many tested modern workers demonstrate, that some disembodied, unseen intelligences can at times either banish from the human body, or put in abeyance, or irresistibly control, the mental, affectional, and moral powers of some impressible human beings, and also use their whole physical structures and nerve elements as instruments; assuming, further, both that such unseen workers may have been the actual authors of many startling phenomena which the preceding pages have brought up before the reader's mind, and that Mrs. Morse, Caleb Powell, and the boy were each of them mediumistical, contributing to the performance of the wonders--assuming this, the proximity of those several persons to the spots where the marvels appeared, would subject them all to rigid scrutiny, and their movements or their positions would probably, at times, indicate to external senses that they were somehow actors in the _mêlée_. They were obviously unconscious reservoirs of the forces there used, and as such were all involved in the production of the great mischief. It is credible, yes, quite probable, that the little boy was actually seen by Powell enacting a prominent part; but that Powell, who then saw, was practically a spirit, beholding a spirit form like in all things to the boy, but moved, energized, and controlled, all imperceptibly to external vision, by disembodied spirits. At the very time when all merely external beholders saw the external boy standing about the room in quiet and repose, or sitting still in the corner, spirit vision might have seen his semblance being used for infiltrating seeming life, motive powers, and longings for a lively jig and a merry time generally into the whole group of household utensils and supplies. When dead wood and iron, when leather and wool, when sausages and bread, when an iron wedge and a spade, find legs, and arms, and wings,--when such become things of seeming life, of forceful life, too, and of self-guiding actions,--they preach with power which no mere human tongue can command. No eloquence from its common sources can equal theirs in forcing conviction. They say "unseen intelligences move us"--"unseen intelligences move us," and every self-possessed and logical hearer responds, Amen. All things have their use. This case of seemingly low as well as rough manifestations, where spirits exhibited the effects of their force mainly upon gross, lifeless matter and brute animals, shows more forcibly and convincingly, if possible, the fact of supermundane agents, than did the effective hands, and simples, and clear visions of Margaret Jones; the "wit" or clairaudience of Ann Hibbins; the Dutch tones and unconscious utterances of Ann Cole, or the contortions of Elizabeth Knap, and the words of the pretty black boy. Life and self-action in dead wood and iron are phenomena too striking and pregnant with meaning to be wisely slurred or ignored. Essex County has been the theater of several exhibitions of astounding marvels. The performances detailed in this chapter beyond question excited fears and disturbed peace throughout Newbury and its surrounding towns. Also an apparitional boy has recently shown himself to a teacher and her pupils in Newburyport, to the no small disturbance of that place. During the first decade of the present century, famous Moll Pitcher, who, as Upham says, "_derived her mysterious gifts by inheritance_, her grandfather having practiced them before in Marblehead," practiced fortune-telling and kindred arts at the base of High Rock, in Lynn, where "she read the future, and traced what to mere mortals were the mysteries of the present or the past...." so successfully, or at least so notoriously, that "her name has everywhere become the generic title of fortune-tellers." In that county, too, the mysteries and horrors of Salem witchcraft were encountered. But scarcely any other event in that territory seems more highly charged with the elements of incredibility than the Salem historian's perception that little John Stiles was the _bona fide_ author of the pranks played at William Morse's house. No cotemporary of the boy, excepting impressible, wayward Powell, seems ever to have suspected the little one as being the giant rogue. How blind, therefore, were the eyes of all others of that generation! For now an historic eye, looking back through the darkening mists of eight score years and twenty miles north, absolutely sees _audacity_ and action, which all living eyes, alert and vigilant on the spot and at the time, were incompetent to detect. The world progresses; new clairvoyance has been developed--clairvoyance which sees what never existed--to wit, little John Stiles as the designing and conscious enactor of superhuman works. * * * * * Very many modern scenes rival this ancient one at Newbury in the roughnesses of manifestations and the difficulty of fathoming the purposes and characters of the performers. Perhaps no other one of them is more worthy of attention or more instructive than the prolonged one which occurred at the residence of Rev. Eliakim Phelps, D. D., at Stratford, Conn., 1850. In "Modern Spiritualism, its Facts and Fanaticisms," by E. W. CAPRON (Bela Marsh, Boston, 1855), page 132, commences a very lucid and authentic account of this case, covering nearly forty pages. The character and position of Dr. Phelps, who furnished Capron with his facts, and whose permission was obtained for their publication, make the account referred to well worthy of careful perusal. On several different occasions, years ago, it was our privilege to hold familiar conversations with Dr. Phelps upon the subject of Spiritualism, and his details of spirit performances in his presence prepared is to view him as having transmitted to his offspring properties which were very helpful in setting THE GATES AJAR. THE GOODWIN FAMILY. In the family of John Goodwin, of Boston, in 1688, four children, all young, were simultaneously either sorely afflicted or set themselves to playing pranks and tricks with diabolical furore. Which? An elaborate account of what was either imposed upon them by other beings, or of what themselves devised and enacted, was promptly written out by Cotton Mather, who was an observer of many of the marvels while they were transpiring. Poole, in "Genealogical and Antiquarian Register," October, 1870, says those children were "Martha, aged 13; John, 11; Mercy, 7; Benjamin 5." Drake, in "Annals of Witchcraft," says they were "Nathaniel, born 1672; Martha, 1674; John, 1677; and Mercy, 1681." According to him, their ages in 1688 were about 16, 14, 11, and 7, respectively. The two statements agree as to Martha, John, and Mercy; but one makes the fourth, a boy of 5, named Benjamin, while the other's fourth is a boy of 16, named Nathaniel. We have not sought for data on which to either confirm or correct the statement of either author. To show that they were young, is all that our present purpose requires. More than seventy years subsequent to the occurrences in the Goodwin family and to the manifestations at Salem, Hutchinson said, "It seems at this day with some people, perhaps but few, to be the question whether the _accused_ or the _afflicted_ were under a preternatural or diabolical possession, rather than whether the afflicted were under bodily distempers, or altogether guilty of fraud and imposture." Poole, having quoted the above, makes the following sensible query and comment. "Why make an alternative? Both accusers and accused were generally possessors of NOT _bodily distemper_, but of _peculiar susceptibilities growing naturally from their special organisms and temperaments_, and were probably as free from and as much addicted to fraud and imposture, as the average of the community in which they lived." If we read Hutchinson aright, he stated that a few people, even at his day, were believers that there had formerly been some "preternatural or diabolical" inflictions, but were in doubt whether such inflictions came upon the accusers or upon the accused; while, in his opinion, all ought to drop belief in anything preternatural or diabolical in the case, and seek only to determine whether the strange phenomena resulted partly from _bodily distempers_, or were exclusively frauds and impostures. We think he made no alternative himself between accusers and accused, but exempted both classes from supermundane influences, and queried only whether witchcraft resulted partly from ill health or wholly from fraud. Be it so or not, Poole's comment is appropriate, instructive, and valuable. It is in harmony with the view which the present work is specially designed to illustrate. We repeat and adopt his words, and say that "both accusers and accused were generally possessors of _not_ bodily distemper, but of peculiar susceptibilities growing naturally from their organisms and temperaments," and in general character were on a par with their neighbors. Hutchinson's account of the family now under consideration is as follows:-- "In 1687 or 1688 began a more alarming instance than any which preceded it. Four children of John Goodwin, a grave man, a good liver, at the north part of Boston, were generally believed to be bewitched. I have often heard persons who were of the neighborhood speak of the great consternation it occasioned. The children were all remarkable for ingenuity of temper, had been religiously educated, and were thought to be without guile. The eldest was a girl of thirteen or fourteen years. She had charged a laundress with taking away some of the family linen. The mother of the laundress was one of the wild Irish, of bad character, and gave the girl harsh language; soon after which she fell into fits, which were said to have something diabolical in them. One of her sisters and two brothers followed her example, and it is said were tormented in the same parts of their bodies at the same time, although kept in separate apartments and ignorant of one another's complaints. One or two things were said to be very remarkable: all their complaints were in the daytime, and they slept comfortably all night: they were struck dead at the sight of the Assembly's Catechism, Cotton's Milk for Babes, and some other good books, but could read in Oxford's Jests, Popish and Quaker books, and the Common Prayer without any difficulty. Is it possible that the mind of man should be capable of such strong prejudices as that a suspicion of fraud should not immediately arise? But attachments to modes and forms in religion had such force that some of these circumstances seem rather to have confirmed the credit of the children. Sometimes they would be deaf, then dumb, then blind; and sometimes all these disorders together would come upon them. Their tongues would be drawn down their throats, then pulled out upon their chins. Their jaws, necks, shoulders, elbows, and all their joints would appear to be dislocated, and they would make most piteous outcries of burnings, of being cut with knives, beat, &c., and the marks of wounds were afterward to be seen. The ministers of Boston and Charlestown kept a day of fasting and prayer at the troubled house; after which the youngest child made no more complaints. The others persevered, and the magistrates then interposed, and the old woman was apprehended; but upon examination would neither confess nor deny, and appeared to be disordered in her senses. Upon the report of physicians that she was _compos mentis_ she was executed, declaring at her death the children should not be relieved. The eldest, after this, was taken into a minister's family, where at first she behaved orderly, but after a time suddenly fell into her fits. The account of her affliction is in print; some things are mentioned as extraordinary which tumblers are every day taught to perform, others seem more than natural; but it was a time of great credulity. The children returned to their ordinary behavior, lived to adult age, made profession of religion, and the affliction they had been under they publicly declared to be one motive to it. One of them I knew many years after. She had the character of a very virtuous woman, and never made any acknowledgment of fraud in the transaction." This historian was born more than twenty years after the "great consternation" which the Goodwin case occasioned, and therefore those must have been elderly people who gave him accounts of personal remembrance of it, and rehearsed to him their mellowed recollections of the past. From such people he had probably heard many particulars, and received general impressions which were one source from whence he drew materials for his history, at least for his comments; also opinions then prevalent around him were aids to his judgment when reading Mather's account. He omitted to express directly any doubt as to the occurrence of such facts as the records presented, but innuendoed, all through his account, that fraud, acting upon credulity, begat and brought forth that entire brood of marvels. He left us the facts, and stated that the children were "all remarkable for ingenuity of temper." Probably his meaning is, that they were remarkably bright or quick-witted. The historian adds, that they "had been religiously educated, and were thought to be _without guile_." These are points of interest both as items on which public judgment concerning the facts was based at the time of their occurrence, and also as things to be regarded by moderns when attempting to determine the probability whether such marvels were produced voluntarily by embodied actors alone, or by force exerted upon and through mortal forms by wills putting forth power from imperceptible sources. What do the quoted statements indicate as to the constitutional endowments and acquired skill of those children for purposely acting out the feats ascribed to them? Ready wit, sprightliness, or whatever is meant by "ingenuity of temper," was a very good basis for any kind of performances; but the character of the doings likely to proceed from that basis in a given case, will be indicated by other possessions. Religious education and freedom from guile are not very probable prompters of either egregious trickery, or prolonged and mischievous imposture. Hutchinson's remark that "some things are mentioned as extraordinary which tumblers are every day taught to perform," is doubtless true; but he adds that "others seem more than natural." Yes, they do. And it is these especially that the world desires to see traced to competent performers. How did the historian account for such--for those seeming "more than natural"? Solely by the dogmatic remark that "it was a time of great credulity." What if it was? Could credulity in the public mind enable untrained children to outact jugglers, tumblers, and most efficient dissemblers and tricksters of various kinds in their special vocations? What did the historian mean by alleging _credulity_ in way of accounting for facts which he adduced, and left without direct controversion, or any attempt at such? Was he intimating that belief of the actual occurrence of such facts, though witnessed through many months by the physical senses of multitudes, argued credulity? If so, he put upon the word _credulity_ an inadmissible meaning. Did he intend to say that credulity caused the senses of our fathers to see, hear, and feel erroneously, so that they would testify less accurately than those of the generation in which he was living? Perhaps he did; and yet on what rational grounds could he? None that we perceive. Was the former generation less truthful than his own? Probably not. Had it less sagacity than his own? We can think of no evidence that it had. Were its senses less reliable? Probably not. Was its belief in the testimony of its own senses a proof of its _credulity_? No. Was clear statement of what its senses had witnessed evidence of its credulity? It seems to have been so to the historian, but is not to us. The fathers told of witnessing things, which, if they occurred, were seemingly "more than natural." What then? Does that prove that the things they described did not occur, and thus prove a generation of the fathers to have been, as a whole, either dolts or liars? No. The appearance is, that the historian was obliged to admit that valid testimony to occurrence of facts around the Goodwin children, which seemed more than natural, must be conceded; and yet he could not account for the facts; he was mentally baffled, non-plussed, and could only say, "It was a time of great credulity." That explains nothing, while it tempts us to suspect its author of such credulity in his own penetration, that he apprehended that a whole line of ancestry through successive generations had been fatuous and exaggerative, since it continuously described and swore to occurrences which conflicted with his own theoretical limits to things credible. A credulity which caused him to regard himself a better knower and judge of what actually transpired in preceding ages, than were the very persons who lived in that past, and were eye and ear witnesses of what then occurred, impelled the pen of this witchcraft historian to ascribe the marvels of other days to causes or to conditions absolutely incompetent to produce them. We can extend much leniency to Hutchinson, because he lived and wrote when the pendulum of belief, recently wrenched from the disturbing grasp of witchcraft, and allowed to swing back toward extreme Sadduceeism, had not acquired its legitimate movements under the action of mesmerism, Spiritualism, psychology, and other regulating forces. Witchcraft's unnatural devil had died from the blow he received at Salem Village in 1692, and for a long time afterward there was seeming non-intercourse between men and dwellers in spirit realms; partially man was forgetting that there are spirits, and doubting whether they had ever acted overtly among men. Probably Hutchinson's thoughts were never led to inquire whether the forces and realms of nature may not extend far above, below, and around the confines of palpable matter,--extend beyond where man's external senses take cognizance,--or where his natural science has penetrated. His thoughts, perhaps, were never led to inquire whether there exists natural provision for mesmeric and varied psychological operations, nor to inquire whether, under possible fitting conditions, unseen intelligences could possess and control certain peculiar physical human forms. Lacking not only knowledge, but also circumstances which would naturally generate any conjecture that both good spirits and bad alike might sometimes come to earth in freedom, and work wonders on its external surface and among its living inhabitants, Hutchinson, cornered and baffled in search for an adequate cause for facts which he felt called upon to state, could only credulously say, in _quasi_ explanation of them, "_It was a time of great credulity_"! His implied position that all the works were nothing more than natural acts and sufferings of children, magnified and made formidable by popular credulity, fails to yield satisfactory revealment of the nature and origin of such facts as he himself presents and leaves uncontroverted. What was the character of the Goodwin children themselves? They were bright, religiously educated, and free from guile. The account shows that four _such_ children, of a sudden, without previous training for it, all join at first, and three of them long unitedly continue, in a course of most distressing imposition upon their own family, upon physicians, clergymen, magistrates, and the neighborhood; also that the imposition is manifested by astounding physical feats, and simultaneous, identical signs and complaints of suffering, even though the sufferers are in separate apartments. If, possibly, by their own wills and powers they could perform the tricks, how incongruous it would be with their alleged traits and ages! How inconceivable that four such children, from the boy of sixteen down to the girl of seven, or from the girl of thirteen down to the boy of five, should conspire, and three of them co-operate thoroughly, effectively, and long, in voluntarily and purposely producing such mischief and misery as were there experienced! _Suspicion_ of fraud no doubt arose. But the appearance is, that facts soon put the case beyond any powers of fraud which such children, or any embodied human beings, could put forth. Without previous practice and training in concert, a successful attempt by themselves at what was done through and upon them is incredible. No hint is given that they ever practiced in preparation. Had they have done so, seemingly their father, the "grave man and good liver," must have known it, and would have been governed by his knowledge of it in judging and treating his children. Who doubts that it would be shameful to charge or suspect that man, and his friends and physicians, with such credulity, _at the first coming on of the fits_, that they could not judge fairly and sensibly of what nature of cause the actions and sufferings indicated? "O, star-eyed" Fancy, "hast thou wandered there, To waft us back the message of"--_credulity_? Look still more closely at the circumstances of this case. The bright girl of "great ingenuity of temper, of religious education, and without guile," _was just out from under the infuriated lashings of a wild Irish tongue_, when she commenced her--what? her frolic? her course of fraud and imposture? Was that a _playful_ moment? Was that the time for a general mood which would start a whole family of guileless little children to unite spontaneously and instantly for a guileful and distressing imposition upon relatives and friends? When she fell in fits, _from such a cause_, was it a credible time for her bright brother to recklessly increase the family excitement by imitating the sufferer's movements and tones of distress? Was that a condition of things in which the younger two would join the elder in sly additions to the distress around them? No; most surely, No. "Is it possible," asks the historian, "that the mind of man should be capable of such strong prejudices as that suspicion of fraud should not immediately arise?" We answer for him and say, No; emphatically, No. Such suspicion must have been felt. And we ask in turn, is it possible that an historian's mind can be capable of such strong prejudices as that suspicion that such a family as he described, circumstanced as he made it, was absolutely incapable of practicing fraud and imposition competent to the results which he indicates were wrought out? Yes, his mind failed to receive such a suspicion, and therefore reveals its own blinding prejudices. Skepticism in one direction generated credulity in another with him, as it does with many to-day. Four children of the "grave man" were simultaneously and excruciatingly racked and tortured precisely alike, and in the same parts of their bodies, although being, some of them, in separate apartments, and ignorant of one another's complaints. Such are the alleged and uncontested facts. The citizens of Boston, two or three years ago, were permitted to see, and we saw, even more than four, yes, eight or ten boys, strangers to the operator, and mostly to each other, volunteer to go upon a stage, where, in a few minutes, after two or three out of a dozen had been requested to leave the stage, all the others were made to move, and act, and suffer precisely and simultaneously alike, many of them standing often back to back, and no one among them perceptibly looking at any other. This was all occasioned by the mental, magnetic or psychological force of Professor Cadwell. If we presume (and why may we not?) that the wild Irish woman possessed strong psychological powers; that Martha Goodwin was easily subjectible to psychological control; that her brothers and sister were so too, and that they were all naturally sympathetic, then we can see that nothing more occurred, even if the whole that is told be literally true, than falls within the scope of such psychological forces as have in recent years been manifested by embodied, and, we may add, by disembodied minds. If in her anger the old woman forced or found rapport between her own sphere or aura and that of Martha Goodwin, way was opened for injection of germs of suffering to the girl's system, and the systems of others in rapport with her. Way was opened through which the tormentor could, though absent, send upon the child ugly wishes that would keep torturing her so long as the old woman kept the wishes active; as perhaps she did in many of her waking hours. The account says, "One or two things were _very remarkable_. All their complaints were _in the daytime_, and they slept comfortably _all night_." When the old woman was asleep, and her resentful feelings were dormant, the children also slept. A passage-way so opened as to admit the entrance of one, usually admits others of the same kind to follow. Where the old woman's subduing will-force had entered and gained sway, that of her sympathetic, and many other spirits, might do the same; and could make the children's outer forms either accept or reject, at the controller's pleasure, any books or class of literature which should be offered for perusal. Catholic spirits, or any spirit, liking a little fun, might keenly relish the work of astonishing Cotton Mather and his ilk, by showing preferences antagonistic to his own righteous ones. The case of Philip Smith, a very intelligent, efficient, and highly respected citizen of Hadley, Mass., exhibits analogous phenomena. We shall not go into that case in detail. It occurred 1685, and is very instructive. Being sick, sensitive, clairvoyant, and pining away, "he uttered a hard suspicion" that one old Mrs. Webster, _who had once been tried for witchcraft_, and also had taken offense at some of Smith's official acts, "had made impressions with enchantments upon him." His "suspicion" and sufferings fired the minds of young men in the town to go "three or four times" and give that old woman disturbance. Drake, in Woodward's "Hist. Series," No. VIII. p. 179, presents the following account: "It is said by a reliable historian that the young miscreants went to her house, dragged her out, and hung her up till she was almost dead. They then cut her down, rolled her some time in the snow, and then buried her up in it, leaving her, as they supposed, for dead. But by a miracle, as it were, she survived this barbarity. Still more miraculous it was, that the sick man was greatly relieved during the time the helpless old woman was being so beastly abused." Mather, in his account (ib. p. 177) says, "All the while they were disturbing her, he was at ease, and slept as a weary man." This is all possible, and not improbable. The man was obviously very susceptible to psychological influences, and could trace felt malignant forces to their source. She, no doubt, was a turbulent and odd old woman, for she had been tried for witchcraft, and was probably a natural psychologist. As long as rough handling caused her to call in, and keep at home, and concentrate all her thoughts and forces for self-defence and protection, no emanations from her went out to the sick man, who then consequently dropped into quiet sleep. One of these Goodwins, says Hutchinson, "I knew many years after. She had the character of a very sober, virtuous woman, and never made any acknowledgment of fraud in the transaction." Probably, therefore, there was no fraud. This sober, virtuous woman, a party concerned, years subsequently made profession of religion, continued long to live a useful and respected life, and never made acknowledgment of fraud. The probability is near to certainty that she never acted any. And how was it with the others? "They returned to their ordinary behavior, lived to adult age, and made profession of religion." Look at the case. Four guileless, bright little sisters and brothers, residing together under their father's watch, in the twinkling of an eye, flash upon the gaze of the town in which they lived, seemingly as adroit and proficient tricksters as were ever known, and all of them alike competent to their several parts. They remain the town's wonder for months, and then all return to their former behavior, grow up and live Christian lives among the witnesses of their strange doings, and never make confession of fraud. Was there any _fraud_? Only the over-credulous in self-powers of divination backward will believe that there was. In the process of watching these children, and the annoyances and sufferings they endured, it was discovered that when absent from home they were in great measure exempt from the special evils; therefore arrangements were made for their abode elsewhere; and probably not for all of them together in any one family. We find that the girl Martha became a resident in Cotton Mather's family not many weeks after the commencement of the great consternation. And it is stated that for a time none of her extraordinary demeanor was manifested there; yet subsequently the fits and antics revealed themselves abundantly, even under the roof of the devil-fighting clergyman. Some sayings and doings while she was residing there, manifested more frolicsome and quizzical motives than prompted the manifestations described by Hutchinson. Turning to a much later historian, we quote from Upham as follows:-- "One of the children seems to have had a genius scarcely inferior to that of Master Burke himself; there was no part nor passion she could not enact. She would complain that the old Irish woman had tied an invisible noose round her neck, and was choking her; and her complexion and features would instantly assume the various hues and violent distortions natural to a person in such a predicament. She would declare that an invisible chain was fastened to one of her limbs, and would limp about precisely as though it were really the case. She would say that she was in an oven; the perspiration would drop from her face, and she would produce every appearance of being roasted; then she would cry out that cold water was being thrown upon her, and her whole frame would shiver and shake. She pretended that the evil spirit came to her in the shape of an invisible horse; and she would canter, gallop, trot, and amble round the rooms and entries in such admirable imitation, that an observer could hardly believe that a horse was not beneath her, and bearing her about. She would go up stairs with exactly such a toss and bound as a person on horseback would exhibit." Such is a general summary of her feats as presented by this historian. Does he believe that such things were actually performed either by or through her? Does he believe that such were the literal facts even in appearance? He nowhere, so far as we notice, till he sums up the case, _distinctly_ charges fraud on the one side, or such credulity on the other, as made witnesses falsify as to appearances. He seems to admit the facts as _appearances_, and charge them all to the girl's extra cunning and skillful acting. "She _pretended_ that the evil [?] spirit came to her." Was it only her _pretense_? Who knows? Why say _pretended_? Was she so generous as to give credit to another, and that other an "evil spirit," for help which she did not receive? Are expert tricksters accustomed to disown their own powers to astonish? Especially do they ever spontaneously avow that the devil or any _evil spirit_ is helping them? We think not. And yet it is stated that Martha Goodwin's own lips declared that some invisible spirit was acting through her, or was helping her perform her marvelous feats. Why call that a _pretense_, and make her a liar? Why not put some confidence in the words of this religiously educated girl? The historian says that while she was residing with Mather, "the cunning and ingenious child"--please mark the adjectives of the modern expounder, applied by him to one whom the earlier records put among those who "had been religiously educated and thought _to be without guile_"--"the cunning and ingenious child," he says, "seems to have taken great delight in perplexing and playing off her tricks upon the learned man. Once he wished to say something in her presence to a third person, which he did not intend she should understand. She had penetration enough to _conjecture_" (why say _conjecture_?) "what he had said. He was amazed. He then tried Greek; she was equally successful. He next spoke in Hebrew; she instantly detected his meaning. He resorted to the Indian language, and that she pretended not to know." Such are facts as deduced from Mather's account by Upham and put forth by the latter, and which he attempts to account for by supposition that the girl's own _conjectures_ enabled her to get at the meaning of sentences put forth in languages of which she had no knowledge. No doubt she was bright, but not competent to all that. Fancy and imagination ply their wings needlessly when they rise from the ground of fact and fly off to the lands of conjecture and pretense, thinking to bring thence true solution of such a marvel. The girl avowed the presence of a spirit with herself, and that he helped her. That explains the whole transaction. Upon full separation from the body, each human mind loses all knowledge of earth language, having no further use for it, because the mind then enters conditions in which the thoughts of any other spirit, whatsoever its native language, may be read at a glance. Whatever language Mather might have spoken in, he would have been intelligible by any disembodied spirit. For not words, but the thought, irrespective of its dress, could be read. The Indian language she _pretended_ not to know. Perhaps so; but probably that was no _pretense_. It is not probable that the girl herself, as such, had much acquaintance with any other language than English; any departed spirit who controlled her would have no knowledge of any earth language whatsoever, nor need he have, for unclothed thought was perceptible by him. A roguish mind behind the scenes--and such a one may have played many a trick at the parsonage--would be likely, at his own pleasure, to bother, astonish, or confound the Rev. Polyglot by seeming either to comprehend or not, just according to his own whims or varying moods as the play went on from step to step. Mather's attempt to conceal his meaning from the girl might very naturally be amusing to the thought-reading intellect then lurking in and controlling the girl's organs, and quite as naturally would incite him to play the wag a while. Martha neither _conjectured_ nor _pretended_ at all; she was then quiescent, while other eyes looked through hers and saw what was inside the mill-stone. We have stated essentially that each mortal upon departing from this life enters into conditions where human language is not only not needed, but is unusable; therefore we may be asked how returning spirits can possibly speak to us in our language, which is no longer at their command. They measurably rechange or change back their conditions when they reconnect themselves with a mortal form; they then come back to where earth language is needful, and where fitting instrumentality for revival of knowledge and use of such language exist. They, however, do not reconnect themselves with their own former forms, nor often with forms which they can use as well as they formerly did their own; in many, very many instances, those who, in their own forms, were eminent for polished diction and fervid eloquence, either get such slight control or get hold of such rickety or such rigid vocal apparatus, that they can make no perceptible approximation to their former productions. The reincarnated spirit is a somewhat mystical being, half spirit, half man, and as a spirit can read the thoughts of man, and as man can use human language. Flattery was sometimes poured over the minister through the lips of Martha, with a lavishness indicative of its flowing from some ensconsed waggish spirit, amusing himself by tickling the vanity of the egotistical black coat, much more than from a guileless miss speaking to her consequential minister. A special scene is thus described by Mather:-- "There stood open the study of one belonging to the family, into which entering, she stood immediately on her feet, and cried out, 'They are gone! They are gone! They say they cannot. God won't let 'em come here!' adding a reason for it which the owner of the study thought more kind than true; and she presently and perfectly came to herself, so that her whole discourse and carriage was altered into the greatest measure of sobriety." Very likely Mather was then egregiously cajoled by _some_ one. Observation, together with information otherwise obtained, renders it obvious that one essential condition of psychological control is, that the magnetisms or auras of the controlling mind shall, at the time, be, in the mass of its operative qualities and powers, stronger than, or positive to, any other person's spheres, auras, or emanations amid which the control is either to be taken or held on to. Suppose, then, what would be necessary under the circumstances, that the atmosphere, walls, and furniture of that study were highly charged with emanations from the vigorous minded Mather, who was then present, and consequently his own halo was radiating there and keeping his surroundings fully charged with himself. Physical and also external mental and emotional effluvia from him might then be so repulsive to magnetisms pertaining to spirits of any moral quality whatsoever, that no visitant from unseen realms would try to withstand the repulsion. If such was the condition of things, the parting exclamation of the last to remain, might well be, "They are gone; God won't let 'em come here!" Such statement would be in full harmony with the most common use of language to-day by spirits, for they are accustomed to say that God won't let them do this or that, when, according to their own oft-repeated explanation, they mean only that the forces of nature oppose or control them. God and natural forces with them generally mean one and the same all-dominating power--God's forces as well as himself are called by his name by visitants who read his operations with more than mortal accuracy. "She presently and perfectly came to herself, so that her whole discourse and carriage was altered into the greatest measure of sobriety." Yes, naturally so; for Martha Goodwin herself resumed control of her own body, and re-exhibited the religiously educated and guileless girl which she in fact was, just as soon as usurping visitants vacated her legitimate premises. So long as her form was dominated by another's mind, her existence was either a blank to herself, or, if conscious, she was powerless. Upham teaches that once, according to Mather, when people attempted to drag this girl up stairs, "the demons would pull her out of the people's hands, and _make her heavier_ than perhaps three times herself." Did the historian himself who quoted those words and let them appear to be accurately descriptive of facts, believe that they were such? Did he believe that _demons_ acted within her, held her back, and made her something like three times heavier than she normally was? Such things were adduced by him as being _facts_, and it would be pleasant to know whether he believed that the girl herself was those demons, and by her own action made her own body three times heavier than common gravitation would make it. Did such observable effects occur as Mather described? Probably they did, and the historian's process of accounting for them implies that by her own cunning, ingenuity, and histrionic skill, the child made herself three times heavier than she actually was. If the allegations were not in his estimation facts, why did he let them stand unaccounted for in his summary of things accomplished by his "cunning and ingenious child"? Perhaps he presumed that readers to-day are generally as ignorant as himself of the vast many cases in which the present generation has tested and proved by the best of Fairbanks's scales, that spirits augment or diminish the weight of material substances at pleasure, and to as great and sometimes greater extent than either demons or Martha Goodwin are alleged to have done in the case above cited. He perhaps presumed that the reading world at large was as ignorant and prejudiced as himself on this subject, and that the world's clearing and opening eyes will continue to see, as his glamoured ones did, only fibs in Mather's facts. This was a sad oversight. Light from Spiritualism (see Dr. Hare, Dr. Luther V. Bell, William Crookes, Alfred R. Wallace, and many others) has already substantiated facts which prove that nature infolds forces by which agents unseen can at their pleasure produce either levitation or increase of the weight of material objects. Therefore such action may have been put forth upon the body of Martha Goodwin. Yes, we now may _rationally_ believe that there existed too much sagacity and truth among the men of witchcraft times, and too little deviltry among the guileless children of that day, to permit that fictions and rhetoric shall long be suffered to malign our forefathers because they recorded true accounts of what transpired among them. Mather states that this girl, at times, by whistling, yelling, and in other ways, disturbed him when at family prayers. Upham says, "She would strike him," Mather, "with her fist and try to kick him"--probably meaning, try both to strike and kick him, for he adds, "her hand or foot would always recoil when within an inch or two of his body; thus giving the idea that there was an invisible coat of mail, of heavenly temper, and proof against the assaults of the devil around his sacred person." That "_idea_" looks much more like a child born within the historian's own mind than a gift to him by Mather. A statement by the latter that her hand or foot would always recoil when within an inch or two of his body, hardly justifies the slurring innuendo which seems to be appended to it. But ignorance of many operating laws, forces, and agents pertaining to the subject discussed by the modern historian, let him sometimes become as tempting a target for the shafts of ridicule as he found Mather to be. Without presuming that Mather perceived that natural laws generated repulsion between matter animated and moved by a disembodied spirit and matter in its normal conditions, we can state that extensive observation has generated the conclusion that unless there exists rapport with, or at least an absence of repulsion between, the sphere of the spirit using the borrowed hand or foot, and the sphere of the normal person aimed at, natural law forbids their contact. William Morse made such observation as caused him to say in his deposition that "the wedge and spade flying on his wife _did not touch her_." Forceful and rapid approximations of hands and feet under control of invisibles, toward the bodies of surrounding witnesses, and marvelous arrestings of those moving limbs so that no contact ensues, are of very frequent occurrence. Very many parlor ornaments and household utensils, hard and soft, light and heavy, are, by spirits, not unfrequently set in rapid motion back and forth, and crosswise, promiscuously over and amid a crowd of people in a room, and yet but few persons are ever hit, and the few sensitives in rapport with the performers, and contributors to their apparatus, if hit, are never hurt. The temper of Mather's shielding coat of mail was just as heavenly as that of each other human being's coat which the Master Armorer in nature's boundless shop forges and furnishes for the protection of each human child who is sent forth to fight the battles of life in gross flesh and bones. Not his own holiness, but either nature's antipathies or spirit forbearance saved Mather from the blows, and the historian wronged him perhaps when he intimated that the divine thought otherwise; for that man, halting as his steps were, and small as his advance was, made nearer approach toward a fair comprehension and exposition of our witchcraft than any other American who wrote upon that subject, till since the publication of "History of Witchcraft." Many other pranks, not less marvelous than the ones already presented, are ascribed to this girl; but notice of them may be omitted here, because the general character of the operations around her are all that this work proposes to exhibit. We must, however, give the reader opportunity to peruse the historian's concluding comments upon this case. He says,-- "There is nothing in the annals of the histrionic art more illustrative of the infinite versatility of the human faculties, both physical and mental, and of the amazing extent to which cunning, ingenuity, contrivance, quickness of invention, and presence of mind can be cultivated, even in very young persons, than such cases as just related. It seems, at first, incredible that a mere child could carry on such a complex piece of fraud and imposture as that enacted by the little girl whose achievements have been immortalized by the famous author of the 'Magnalia.'" We are glad to note the author's frank and distinct confession that his own solution seems _at first_ incredible. Why he put in the phrase "at first" needs explanation, which he fails to furnish. He makes no attempt to show why the _first_ seeming should not be the permanent one. It is permanent. It will continue permanent to the end of time. It is and forever will be _incredible_ that the Goodwin girl herself performed all the feats which the evidence proves were performed through her organism. If her body was the organ of all the performances which are distinctly ascribed to her, she was not the author of them all, but only a channel for the occurrence of many of them. Can reflection find her competent to all that was ascribed to her? Incredible. Incredible not only _at first_, but also on and on to the latest last. Ingenious fancy, while weaving over this case a dazzling web of rhetoric, may have deluded the eyes that overlooked the loom, and caused them to discern other seemings than the first ones; but such delusion will never become epidemic. Hutchinson, usually a scornful handler of aught that emitted any odor of witchcraft, we now requote where he said, concerning the family which included this Martha, that "they all had been religiously educated, and were thought to be without guile;... they returned to their ordinary behavior, lived to adult age, made profession of religion.... One of them I knew many years after. She had the character of a very sober, virtuous woman, and never made any acknowledgment of fraud in this transaction." Such is the testimony of one whose views and feelings obviously inclined him, as far as possible, to consider all witchcraft works the products of imposture and fraud; and who, therefore, was not likely to assign to this family any good qualities which they were not widely and well known to possess. He spoke of them as above, and refrained from any direct imputation of fraud to them. He hinted at fraud, it is true, but probably both lacked any historical or traditionary evidence of it, and was conscious that if fraud were alleged, and even proved, it would fail to meet the case in all its parts--in those especially that "seemed more than natural." Nonplussed in the way of solution, he could only say "it was a time of great credulity"! In one important respect he had better facilities for judging this case correctly than can be obtained to-day. He had listened to conversations of many persons who were living at the time of its occurrence, and yet refrained from direct charge of fraud or imposture. Also he intimated that such causes, even if alleged, would be inadequate, because some of the transactions "seemed more than natural." The later historian, unhampered by need to move in harmony with the knowledge and beliefs of any cotemporaries of those Goodwins, and abandoning historic grounds which furnish supermundane agencies for solving the occurrence of acts which filled the town and colony with consternation, delved into the composition of man, and fancied that he found therein enormous capabilities for credulity, fraud, imposture, infatuation, spontaneous out-flashings of highest, and more than highest, feats of histrionic art, for self-generated triplication of personal weight, for aviarial flittings, for equine antics, for self-induced roastings, self-induced showerings, for comprehension of languages never learned, &c.; fancied that he had found how one little girl, "religiously educated, and thought to be without guile," could execute to admiration each of those many things "seeming to be more than natural," and could mimic with admirable exactness most astounding feats, and such as always before had been supposed to require the powers of disembodied intelligences. That was an astounding discovery. But the present are times of great credulity, and in the infatuation of these days mental optics have been molded, which, looking back nearly two hundred years, see the brightest, most vigorous, and keen-sighted men of Boston--the "solid men of Boston"--see them stolid and gullible, and see, too, among the people there three or four little children, bright and religiously educated, and yet malignant and agile as the very devil. What a contrast between the old and the young then! Was there ever a day when Boston's wisest adults were prevailingly blockheads easily befooled, and when those of her children who had "great ingenuity of temper" metamorphosed themselves into devil-like incendiaries, and set the town ablaze with sulphurous fires? Alas! one modern eye has penetration enough to convince its owner that such a day once was. That eye, "by the aid of"--something, seems "gifted with supernatural insight;" certainly with very uncommon back-sight. Grant to the Goodwin children all the natural human endowments which imagination can conjure up and embody, also grant to them skillful training and long-continued practice, which there is no probability they had, and even then it was impossible for them, when in separate rooms, to have voluntarily and designedly acted, and seemingly suffered, precisely and simultaneously alike, as they are alleged to have done, and as they would have naturally been made to do if all of them were under and controlled by the psychologic influence of the single mind of the resentful wild Irish woman, because then the same mental impulses would move them all like machines, and simultaneously. After their separation, the girl at Mr. Mather's house could never have accomplished single-handed what is ascribed to her. The internal evidence of the narrative of events which transpired there combines with common sense in pronouncing it farcical--distinctly _farcical_--to regard that young girl as the contriver and performer of all the works and pranks which history says transpired through her physical organism, and, therefore, to external eyes, seemed to be products of her own volitions. The nature, quality, and extent of those performances bespeak producing powers both different from and greater than such a girl possessed; bespeak just such powers as departed spirits are now putting forth all around us through living human forms. It is not only at first, but _permanently_ incredible, "that a mere child could carry on such a complex piece of fraud and imposture as that enacted" through "the little girl whose achievements have been immortalized by the famous author of the Magnalia;" and therefore the world demands, and will yet obtain, a simpler, more rational, and more satisfactory solution of this and kindred cases; solution that will admit all the amazing feats of witchcraft to be embraced within the scope of forces that finite human beings, the seen and the unseen in conjunction, could in the past and can now so apply as to execute all the world's marvels without aid from either the One Great Devil, from fraud, or from imposture. Neither of these need ever have any connection whatever with, or complicity in, such matters. The records teach, and man's recent experience divines, that other, more befitting, and more competent actors than mere children were on hand and at work in Cotton Mather's presence. Though justice would have us assign to any Great Dull his honest dues, it also permits us to pull off from his sable brows any unearned wreaths which Cotton Mather and others credulously placed upon them. It also and especially requires us to tear off from the fair head of guileless Martha Goodwin that badge labeled _Fraud and Imposture_--that emblem of deviltry--which _modern delusion_ has most cruelly, and yet most artistically, wreathed around temples that seem worthy of a pure _martyr's honoring crown_. RETROSPECTION. From among the works of witchcraft that occurred from 1648 to 1688, we have now presented six cases, which bring into view some phenomena that are very like many which are now called spirit manifestations. The efficient touch of Margaret Jones, of Charlestown, the extraordinary efficacy of her hands and simple medicines, her prophetic powers, the keenness of her hearing, and the materialization of a spirit-child in her arms, brought her to the gallows in 1648. Ann Hibbins, of Boston, seemingly because of the wit-sharpening acuteness of her hearing, was hanged in 1656. Ann Cole, of Hartford, Conn., in 1662, had her vocal organs "improved" by some intelligence not her own for the utterance of thoughts which were never in her mind, and some of the utterances through her contributed to the conviction and consequent execution of the two Greensmiths, husband and wife. At Groton, a spirit controlling the form of Elizabeth Knap, in 1671, made avowal that he was "a pretty black boy, and not Satan." At Newbury, in 1679, the wild dance of pots, kettles, andirons, and things in general, came off on the premises of William Morse. And at Boston, in 1688, inflictions upon the Goodwin children led to the execution of Mrs. Glover, "one of the wild Irish." Cases thus scattered in both time and space, half of them limited each to a single actor or sufferer, and each differing widely from any other in many of its prominent features, cannot satisfactorily be ascribed to acquired skill in legerdemain, histrionic art, magic, or necromancy, unattended by help from the living dead. The name of the wild Irish woman, whose harsh language was speedily followed by the distortions and sufferings of the Goodwin children, was Glover. Calef calls her "a despised, crazy, ill-conditioned old woman--an Irish Roman Catholic." The public believed that she put forth criminal action upon that family, arrested her therefor, received at her trial some indications that she had dealings with invisible beings, pronounced her guilty of witchcraft, and hanged her. She doubtless forsensed retention of power to act either directly or through others upon the objects of her resentment, even after the gallows should have done its utmost work upon herself. For it is stated that "at her execution she said the children would not be relieved by her death ... and ... the three children continued in their furnace as before, and it grew rather seven times hotter than it was, and their calamities went on till they barked at one another like dogs, and then purred like so many cats; would complain that they were in a red-hot oven, and sweat and pant as if they had been really so. Anon they would say cold water was thrown on them, at which they would shiver very much. They would complain of being roasted on an invisible spit; and then that their heads were nailed to the floor, and it was beyond an ordinary strength to pull them from it."--_Annals of Witchcraft_, p. 185. Such facts were gathered from Cotton Mather's account; they come to us from one whose influences and writings are alleged to have been most strongly provocative of executions for witchcraft. Perhaps some of them became so. But his presentation of both the momentous fact and its confirmation by observed experiences, that the spirit of an executed psychologist could act back from beyond the gallows, involved a crushing argument against the wisdom of suspending her or any one else with a view to stop bewitchment. The liberation of one's spirit increases its powers for action upon surviving mortals. Mather's facts argued that. SALEM WITCHCRAFT. The world-renowned and momentous display of extraordinary manifestations, known the world over as _Salem Witchcraft_, originated and was mainly manifested in what was then called Salem Village--territory distinct from Salem _proper_--embracing the present town of Danvers, together with parts of Beverly, Wenham, Topsfield, and Middleton, in the County of Essex and State of Massachusetts. There, in the family of the Rev. Samuel Parris, minister at the Village, on the 29th of February, 1692, mysterious causes had wrought strange maladies upon two young girls during the six preceding weeks, which excited great public alarm, and produced such mental agitation that the civil authorities were called upon to give the matter official attention. The true origin and the actual authors and enactors of that tragedy are among the prime objects of our present researches. It is not our purpose to furnish a _full_ history, but to scrutinize and test the hypotheses of other writers; and give a solution of the origin and specification of the actors and effects of that tragedy different--widely different--from the prevalent modern ones. Upham, Drake, and Fowler all agree in fundamentals. All of them have assumed that the agents and forces which evolved those marvelous operations were scarcely, if anything, other than ten or twelve respectable girls, from nine to twenty years of age, together with a few married women and a few men, voluntarily exercising and manifesting only their own wayward constitutional faculties and forces, in the performance of tricks, impositions, and malignancies; and with none other than lamentable results. Their positions we deem open to deserved attack, and we expect to overthrow much that has been reared upon them, by using facts abounding in the primitive records of testimony given in at trials for witchcraft as our chief instrumentalities. The three expounders just named have rested much upon allegations that the girls and women alluded to above had, just previous to the strange outburst of terrors at the Village, been accustomed to meet as _a circle_, and at their meetings put themselves in training for the efficient and successful performance of what soon after transpired through them. Our readings of the records pertaining to Salem witchcraft have, as we know and freely confess, fallen short of complete exhaustion; and yet we have read much, and also have failed to find any remembered allusion to such a circle prior to its mention in the present century. Upham states (vol. ii. pp. 2 and 386) that "for a period embracing about two months they" (certain girls and women) "had been in the habit of meeting together, and spending the long winter evenings, _at Mr. Parris's house_, practicing the arts of fortune-telling, jugglery, and magic." Drake says ("Annals of Witchcraft," p. 189) that "these females instituted frequent meetings, or got up, as it would now be styled, a club, which was called a circle. _How frequent they had these meetings is not stated_; but it was soon ascertained that they met to try projects, or to do or produce superhuman acts." Fowler remarks, in Woodward's Series (vol. iii. pp. 204 and 205), that "Mary Warren, one of the most violent of the accusing girls, lived with John Proctor," who, "out of patience with the meetings of the girls composing this circle," &c. "It is at the meeting of this circle of eight girls, _for the purpose of practicing palmistry and fortune-telling_, that we discover the germ or the first origin of the delusion." The position of each of these writers substantially is, that the accusing girls, at circle meetings which they held, qualified themselves for the parts they subsequently performed, wherein, Fowler says, "their whole course, as seen by their depositions, discloses much malignancy." Upham has told us that these meetings were held "at Mr. Parris's house," and that they occurred within the space of "about two months ... during the winter of 1691 and 1692." Drake found no statement as to "how frequent they had these meetings," and Fowler finds in them "the germ ... of the delusion." We have found no mention at all of this circle in the more ancient records and accounts, and not one of the authors named makes mention of the source of his information. Those men, two of whom are our personal acquaintances and friends, would not state anything which they did not believe to be true. We therefore shall not gainsay their allegations. Still, we feel privileged to doubt whether their uncertain number of meetings during the short space of two winter months, held _at the minister's own house_, and under an eye as vigilant as that of Mr. Parris, could have furnished those girls with opportunity to learn very much in any arts whose practice would not receive the approbation of the Rev. Master of the house--not much could they there of themselves learn, at their few meetings in two months, of the anti-Christian arts of "palmistry ... and fortune-telling;" not much could they then and there accomplish in the way "of becoming," by their voluntary efforts, "experts in the wonders of necromancy, magic, and Spiritualism." The general purpose of any stated meetings "at Mr. Parris's house," naturally and almost necessarily had his approbation; and the presumption from his general character is, that he was neither the good-natured indolent man who let others take their own course, however wayward, nor the absent-minded one whom children or even bright adults could easily and repeatedly deceive and hoodwink. The probability seems excessively small that such a one as he would permit repeated gatherings under his own roof for the special purpose of acquiring knowledge of and skill in practicing tabooed arts. Whatever their authority for it, the writers referred to imply that the members of a circle of girls and misses, meeting statedly "_at Mr. Parris's house_," there very expeditiously qualified themselves to become not only most efficient actors of long-continued dissimulation, imposture, cunning, devilish trickery, and fiendish malice, but also to be _bona fide_ concoctors and successful executors of vastly complicated, deep, and broad schemes of hellish outrages upon parents, neighbors, and the country. Wiser heads and greater powers than those girls possessed were manifested by the acts they _seemed_ to perform. In a literary sense they were uncultured; but they, doubtless, had been subject to as good domestic, social, moral, and religious teachings and example as existed in any community. The literary deficiencies of the girls are indicated in the following extracts:-- Drake says, "They were generally very ignorant, for out of the eight but two could write their names. Such were the characters which set in motion that stupendous tragedy which ended in blood and ruin." In vol. i. p. 486, Upham says, "How those young country girls, some of them mere children, most of them wholly illiterate, could have become familiar with such fancies to such an extent, is truly surprising.... In the Salem witchcraft proceedings, the superstition of the middle ages was embodied in real action. All its extravagances, absurdities, and monstrosities appear in their application to human experience." Such, according to their own concessions, was the feebleness of the agents whom the historians credited with performances which seem superhuman, and required for their production intellect and forces above what any community has often witnessed. Notwithstanding the inherent and insuperable incompetency of such persons to voluntarily devise and perform what has been ascribed to them, those females have been earnestly set forth as the actual and almost impromptu devisers and enactors of as intricate and effective a scheme for inflicting tortures and misery upon a vast multitude of human beings as has rarely been found in the annals of the race. If it be admitted that they, through frequent meetings at the parsonage, became fitted to conjure up and control the devastating monster that had his lair and foraging-grounds at Salem Village, the presumption amounts closely to certainty that those gatherings were ostensibly held for some laudable object. Meetings for some purpose may possibly have been held when and where the historians assume them to have occurred. But if so, it is our privilege to assume the possibility that the meetings were availed of by unseen intelligences of some grade, for developing into facile mediums such members of the circle as were constitutionally impressible and controllable by spirits; and, if so, the meetings may have become productive of results widely different from any contemplated by either the members themselves or the master of the house in which they met. In his general history of Salem Village, introductory to that of its witchcraft, Upham, giving us the geographical positions of their several residences, and also their relations and positions in domestic life, furnishes ample grounds for very strong presumption that frequent attendance upon sportive meetings at the parsonage must have been so inconvenient and onerous to several of those girls, that they would not have been present many times in the short space of two months. Ann Putnam, a sensitive girl only twelve years old, and Mercy Lewis, a servant girl, or "the maid," in the family of Ann's father, two of the most efficient pupils in that necromantic school, resided together in a home situated not less than two and a half miles distant, in a north-westerly direction from the specified place of the meetings. Elizabeth Hubbard, an important member, lived about the same distance off, on a different road at the east. On a still different road, and equally as far away at the south-east, resided Sarah Churchill; and quite as remote, at the south, was the home of Mary Warren; and the last two must take divergent roads when they had gone only a little more than half way home. Each one of these five was very conspicuous amid the ostensible accusers, and the genuinely "afflicted ones." Excepting Ann Putnam, each was old enough to be an efficient helper in household labors, and each, unless we except Elizabeth Hubbard,--and such exception is hardly needful, because, though a niece of his wife, she is mentioned as Dr. Griggs's "maid," which probably implies that she was compensated for services she rendered,--excepting Ann Putnam, each of them was "out at service." What, therefore, is the probability that these five girls, with any great frequency or regularity, went to and returned home from avowedly sportive or necromantic meetings _at the parsonage_? Each of them would have to travel, in going and returning, not less than five or six miles, mostly along separate routes, in winter's shortest days, by lonely and crooked roads, through miles of dark forests, over winter's snows, and amid its freezing airs. What is the probability that such persons, so circumstanced, would either desire to go, or be permitted by parents and employers to go, frequently and regularly to such meetings? Slight--very slight--because both natural and domestic obstacles must have been great. Were horses, vehicles, and drivers, or were even saddle-horses, regularly at the command of such girls for conveyance to and from such meetings? Would such persons, if physically strong and courageous enough to go on foot, be often spared by their employers to spend long winter evenings, and two hours more for travel, in practicing "fortune-telling, necromancy, and magic"? Such questions of themselves put forth a negative answer. Frequent attendance by such members of the circle was next to an impossibility. If they learned much upon any subject at the very few meetings which circumstances would permit them to attend in the short space of two months, they were very apt pupils indeed. That they became very considerably modified and unfolded in certain directions in consequence of meeting together occasionally is very credible. We should concede its probable correctness, were an historian to make the supposition that the two Indian slaves in Mr. Parris's kitchen, John Indian and his wife Tituba, often amused themselves and any young folks or other visitors, who there basked in genial light and warmth from blazing logs in a huge New England fireplace on a cold winter's evening, by rehearsing ghost stories and magic lore, and performing any such feats in fortune-telling or other mystical doings as they might be able to exhibit, or as might transpire through them. That the little girls, Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. Parris, and Abigail Williams, his niece, were accustomed to spend many cold winter evenings in the warm kitchen of their own home is very credible. Mary Walcut and Susanna Sheldon, who lived in the near neighborhood, perhaps dropped in frequently. But the majority of those whose astonishing proficiency in performing what Drake said the circle met for, viz., "to do or produce superhuman acts," and for _learning_, as Upham would say, how to manifest "the superstition of the middle ages ... embodied in real action,"--the _majority_ of those girls obviously must have had only very restricted opportunities for study and practice at the parsonage. It is not at all improbable that each of them was present in that kitchen occasionally during two months of that winter; nor that each of them was impregnated by the auras of that place and of its occupants both visible and invisible; nor that the physical and psychic soils in each were there mellowed, and also sown with some seed which produced unlooked-for fruits during the following spring and summer. Mediumistic capabilities are innate peculiarities, measurably hereditary, and nearly always amenable to special conditions and surroundings for conspicuous development. King Saul became a prophet, i. e., a medium, only when he met, mingled with, and imbibed emanations from prophets or mediums. Messengers whom he sent to the prophets succumbed to new and developing influences upon arriving at their destination, and became suddenly prophets themselves. Latent germs of spiritualistic capabilities, if permeated by quickening auras, which often emanate from positive mediums, frequently unfold into mediumship, as naturally as specific elements, reaching latent germs in many human systems, expand those germs into measles, or into whooping-cough; or as naturally as listening to soul-stirring music energizes latent capabilities in many who are acted upon by its strains, and helps such to become themselves better musicians than before. The parsonage kitchen--that nestling-place of John Indian and his wife Tituba--may have been that winter a little Delphos, or a little Mount Horeb, that is, a spot where developing nourishments of mediumistic germs were collected in unusual abundance, and were unwontedly operative. We are not only ready to admit, but deem it probable, that any susceptible persons who came into the presence of John and Tituba, in their special room, may have there imbibed properties unsought and unperceived which fostered the development of such visitors into tools or instruments, by the use of which the genuine authors of Salem witchcraft brought out their work upon a public stage, and prosecuted its terrific enactment. Smothering our serious doubts whether any regular meetings at stated times were arranged for or held, we are entirely ready to let the supposition stand that gatherings, more or less extensive, occasionally occurred, at which fortune-telling, necromancy, magic, or Spiritualism, was made the subject of either sportive or serious attention, and we will let results indicate who managed the visible performers during the exercises or entertainments there. Upham's beautifully rhetorical and eloquent efforts to show that because they, as he states, held a number of meetings for learning and practicing mystic arts, those rustic, illiterate girls thereby and thereat qualified themselves to concoct and accomplish of their own accord, and by their histrionic and malicious capabilities, all that mighty scheme or plan which his predecessor and himself lay to their charge, fail, entirely fail, to meet the fair demands of that common sense which rigidly requires forces and agents adequate in their nature and conditions to produce all effects which are ascribed to them. Fowler seems to have inferred from some statements ascribed to Proctor, that the latter threatened to go and force Mary Warren to leave the _circle_. We do not so read the account. The morning of March 25,--that is, the next morning after the examination of Rebecca Nurse,--John Proctor said "he was going to fetch home his jade" (Mary Warren); "he left her there" (at the village) "last night, and had rather given 40c than let her come up." That is, apparently, he had rather have given that sum than to have had her be present at the examination of Mrs. Nurse; for, continued he, "if they were let alone, Sr., we should all be devils and witches quickly; they should rather be had to the whipping post; but he would fetch his jade home and thrust the devil out of her, ... crying, hang them--hang them. And also added, that when she was first taken with fits he kept her close to the wheel, and threatened to thrash her, and then she had no more fits till the next day" (when) "he was gone forth, and then she must have her fits again forsooth," &c.--_Woodward's Series_, vol. i. p. 63. It is obvious from the above that Proctor's objection was to his jade's attendance upon the examination of the accused--to her attendance at court--and not at the circle, which, according to Upham, should have closed its meetings a month at least before the 25th of March. And yet S. P. Fowler says (Woodward's Series, vol. iii. p. 204), that "Proctor, out of all patience with the _meetings of the girls composing this circle_, one day said he was going to the village to bring Mary Warren, the jade, home." Most readers will infer from such a statement that Proctor proposed to take the girl away from the "circle;" but the statement from which the annotator drew his information, when taken in connection with its date, clearly shows that the threats to bring home the jade and thrash her were subsequent to the assemblages of the circle, and were made at a time when the girls were being used as witnesses before the examining magistrates. That which tried the resolute man's patience, was not the meetings of the _circle_, but the testimony of the girls in court, which threatened to make all the people "devils and witches quickly." Proctor's stopping the _fits_, by threats to thrash the girl, intimates that the fits were measurably controllable by the will of some one. That much may be true in relation to almost all diseases and maladies of the body, but probably not as much so in most other kinds as in those which are imposed by a will that has no natural alliance with the agitated body. Under the influence of threats, the girl would naturally struggle to get full possession of all her own powers and faculties, and the effort would put her own elements in such commotion that for a time no foreign will could get control over her form. Threats, medicines of certain kinds, and many other applications, may temporally render almost any medium's system uncontrollable by spirits. Calmness, both of mind and body, and darkness, too, which is less positive and disintegrating than light, in action upon instruments made and used by spirits, are very helpful to control of borrowed forms. In some of his comments (vol. ii. p. 434) Upham wrote more wisely than himself seems to have known. Words from his pen state that "one of the sources of the delusion of 1692, was ignorance of many natural laws that have been revealed by modern science. A vast amount of knowledge on these subjects has been attained since that time." True, true indeed. And had the author of that statement been familiar with important portions of that "vast amount of" new "knowledge," he himself, as readily as those who are better versed in a certain class of modern revealments, would have seen and felt the perfect childishness of his attempt to make those rustic girls the conscious contrivers and perverse and malignant actors of the whole of the vast, complicated, and terrific tragedy of Salem witchcraft. He might have known when he wrote, he ought to have known then, that Dr. Robert Hare, of Philadelphia, who was eminent, distinctly and broadly eminent, as a scientist, had in 1855 published to the world a rigidly scientific _demonstration_ that some unseen agent, intelligent enough to understand and comply with verbal requests, repeatedly moved the arms of scale-beams contrary to the normal action of gravitation. Science, there and then, revealed the existence of some natural law or laws which permit unseen and impalpable intelligences, under some conditions, to put forth action upon matter, with force and to extent, which man can measure in pounds avoirdupois. That single achievement of modern science teaches the wisdom of exempting seemingly diabolized and mischievous children from charge of being devils incarnate, until we have determined whether some beings of greater powers and different dispositions may not have usurped control of youthful and pliant human forms, and through them manifested schemes and pranks that originated in supernal brains, and were enacted by use of such forces as can be manipulated by none below disembodied intelligences. Obviously he who was cognizant that science had made recent discoveries, suffered himself to remain in ignorance of what to him, as witchcraft historian, were the most pertinent and important parts of the knowledge recently gained; ignorant of those parts which were most closely connected with philosophical solution of the mysteries which pervaded the history he was elaborating. His blindness to what science--yes, to what exact physical science--by her rigid processes of weighing and measuring had positively _demonstrated_, bespeaks his short-comings, and would bespeak the unphilosophical stand-point of any historian of, or critic upon, the world's marvels, who, since the day of Hare, ignores the light radiating from his demonstration, and continues to grope on in darkness which use of that light would dispel. Take into the catalogue of natural agents and forces all those whose existence and action, science, as applied by Dr. Hare twenty years ago, and again by Mr. Crookes and others in England more recently, backed, too, by the observations and tests of thousands less erudite, has _demonstrated_, and then all occasion to look upon our fathers as numskulls, and their daughters as proficient devils, at once disappears. New England soil, two centuries ago, was not populated mainly by jack-asses; and even had it been, their offspring would have been neither monkeys nor hyenas. Since the work by Dr. Hare, entitled "Spiritualism Scientifically Demonstrated," may not be readily accessible by many readers, his description of one demonstrative process is quoted from page 49, as follows:-- "A board, being about four feet in length, is supported by a rod, as a fulcrum, at about one foot from one end, and, of course, three feet from the other, which is suspended on a spring balance. A glass vase, about nine inches in diameter and five inches in hight, having a knob to hold it by, when inverted had this knob inserted in a hole made in the board six inches, nearly, from the fulcrum. Thus the vase rested on the board mouth upward. A wire-gauze cage, such as is used to keep flies from sugar, was so arranged by a well-known means as to slide up or down on two iron rods, one on each side of the trestle supporting the fulcrum. By these arrangements it was so adjusted as to descend into the vase until within an inch and a half of the bottom, while the inferiority of its dimensions prevented it from coming elsewhere within an inch of the parietes of the vase. Water was poured into the vase so as to rise into the cage till within about an inch and an half of the brim. A well-known medium (Gordon) was induced to plunge his hands, clasped together, to the bottom of the cage, holding them perfectly still. As soon as those conditions were attained, the apparatus being untouched by any one excepting the medium as described, I invoked the aid of my spirit friends. A downward force was repeatedly exerted upon the end of the board appended to the balance, equal to three pounds' weight nearly;... the distance of the hook of the balance from the fulcrum on which the board turned was six times as great as the cage in which the hands were situated. Consequently a force of 3�6=18 pounds must have been exerted." The above experiment was performed in Dr. Hare's own laboratory, in the presence and under the watchful scrutiny of John M. Kennedy, Esq., and was made with extraordinary care, because Professor Henry had just treated a similar result formerly obtained as incredible. Plate III. in the book furnishes a diagram illustrating Dr. Hare's apparatus. This experimenter, whom Alfred R. Wallace calls America's foremost chemist, had spent very many years in both constructing and in using, as a scientist, varied kinds of apparatus for testing the presence and action of subtile forces in nature, and he was competent to know, and did know as well as any other man whatsoever in the world's great body of scientists, when results were obtained to positive certainty. He _proved_ that some invisible and intelligent power moved his scale-beam contrary to the action of gravitation. The above demonstration, accompanied by many other evidences of spirit-action upon matter through mediums, had been published twelve years when Upham put forth his work. Therefore he was either ignorant of or he ignored late discoveries of science which had revolutionizing applicability to the very theories which he was putting forth. After having eloquently depicted the sad results of witchcraft, that author says (vol. ii. p. 427), "Let those results for ever stand conspicuous, beacon-monuments, warning us and coming generations against superstition in every form, and all credulous and vain attempts to penetrate beyond the legitimate boundaries of human knowledge." If there ever was "a _credulous and vain attempt_ to penetrate beyond the legitimate boundaries of human knowledge," one was made by him who sought to find that the keen-eyed, energetic, common-sense, virtuous, religious men of Massachusetts in the seventeenth century lacked common sagacity, and that their little girls rivaled Satan himself in malignity. Most seriously we ask whether forces which can be and have been measured by palpable scales, are "beyond the legitimate boundaries of human knowledge?" We ask whether, anywhere in the universe, there exist boundaries beyond which it is, or can be, illegitimate for man to go in search after agents and forces which either habitually or occasionally act legitimately upon him in this mortal life? Another question is suggested by the foregoing quotation. Would not positive knowledge that there are unseen agents and forces within the realms of nature that can legitimately exhibit the phenomena once deemed witchcrafts, transfer such phenomena from the domain of either superstition or crime into that of science or that of beneficence? Surely it would. And, therefore, how can one possibly work more efficiently for depopulating the domain of superstition, than by bringing its inhabitants forth and colonizing them on the lands of knowledge and science? Shall we comply with the historian's advice, and still continue to leave what ignorance denominates hobgoblins and ghosts to remain shrouded in appalling mists, and thus aid them to continue to be to coming generations the same awful beings they were to the generations past? Or shall we, on the other hand, now, while experience and science are showing that such work is practicable, push discovery onward till we both find laws and learn conditions which permit closer access of disembodied beings to us, and which also permit most beneficent reciprocal action between them and us, just as soon as familiarity, confidence, calmness, and mutual trust make their access easy? Which shall we do? Which is most scientific? Which is most dutiful to God and friendly to man? Which? Is ignorance of, or is knowledge of, nature's forces and inhabitants the greater blessing? Which? Away with ignorance where knowledge is attainable. We choose to learn as much concerning the universe and its inhabitants as God gives us power and opportunities to acquire; not fearing his censure, but trusting to win his approbation, by so doing. When one learns that issuers from the vailed realms of spirit-land are only earth's emancipated children revisiting their former homes, the cry that devils are coming lacks any startling power. Faith, and even knowledge, sometimes says, "It is my friends and loved ones and those who love me, who are in the circumambient hosts, and I will do what I may to facilitate their more sensible approach; will extend toward them a friendly and helping hand." Only superstition and ignorance quail and skulk before visitants that come from unseen realms; knowledge stands fast and meets them with welcome and joy. The "legitimate boundaries of knowledge"! Where are they? Surely not within any domain where knowledge can supersede ignorance and its consequent superstitions. Perhaps only few persons who give credence to the substantial accuracy of the transmitted statements of witchcraft facts, will dissent from Hutchinson's obvious meaning when he said that "some of them seem to be more than natural;" that is, as we suppose him to have meant, they seem to have required for their production something beyond the recognized powers of embodied human beings. He, however, in spite of such seeming, sought to lead other minds to fancy that fraud and malice acting upon credulity--in other words, that cunning and malicious embodied human beings, and none other--were concerned in their manifestation. Upham and Drake have not only followed Hutchinson's lead in excluding invisible agents, but have omitted to admit that some of the facts _seem_ to be more than natural. They blindly fancy that they find resident in human minds and hearts of seeming brilliancy and goodness, capabilities of artfulness, malice, and might which wrest from Satan's brow all laurels which the world has meeded to him for his imputed prowess on witchcraft's battlefields. As one of the human race, we protest against such slander of our kindred humans while embodied, none of whom, while dwellers here below, were ever smelted in fires hot enough to elicit from their own interiors some forces which were put in action through their forms--forces which, in common parlance, though not in absolute fact, were "more than natural." Events fearfully mysterious have long been, and now often are, spoken of as the productions of beings, or at least of One Special being, lurking somewhere away off beyond the outmost limits of nature. But each and every hiding-place of even Old Nick is somewhere within those limits, and even he can never and nowhere act otherwise than in obedience to nature's laws. How far up, down, around, do natural forces and agents extend and operate? If there be a fixed limit to nature's domain, where is it? When life departs from man's body, are the forces which continue to act upon his invisible spirit, whether that continues to be or ceases to be a conscious individuality,--are the forces which then act upon it and which bear it to its appropriate position in spirit spheres, _natural_ forces, or are they other? When man escapes from his gross and sluggish encasement, and becomes--as the reappearance of many of the race teaches that he does--a freed spirit, he does not escape from within the realm of nature, nor pass to where natural substances and forces cease to sustain and act upon him. The word "supernatural" as well as its equivalent phrase, "more than natural," is often misleading; it tends to generate supposition that nature _terminates_ where man's external senses cease to take cognizance. Absolutely, however, as we believe, all beings, including even God, and all things whatsoever, are parts of nature; so that the word "supernatural" can scarcely find place for rigid, unqualified application. No objection to its usual application is here intended, provided it is not used to convey the idea that things to which it is applied are the work of intelligence above and beyond the control and restrictions of universal laws or forces; provided it does not intimate that the works are what theology has called miracles, i. e., acts "contrary to the established course of things." Such works probably never did and never can occur. Higher and unrecognized laws are availed of whenever known laws are thwarted in their results, as when the magnet takes the steel upward in spite of gravitation: gravitation works on with as much steadiness and force as over, while the magnet overpoweringly pulls against it. The overbalancing magnetic force does not act "contrary to the established course of things," but simply performs its own functions in full harmony with that course; so of all mysterious events in the vast universe. All move on in obedience to law; all events are outworkings of universal forces, none of which are ever broken or suspended, though sometimes some of them are restrained by other and counteracting forces from manifesting their usual results. All the marvelous works of both ancient and modern Spiritualism may have occurred, and yet none of them have been, in fact, "more than natural," however much so some minds may be accustomed to deem them. Take psychic forces as natural instrumentalities, take both embodied and disembodied intelligences who had skill and power for the control of such forces, and with these take also others who had special susceptibilities for yielding to psychic action, and you will then have in your conceptions ample natural means for the production of each and every marvel that was ever described in human history, and all such may have been produced without any more help or hindrance in kind from either God or the devil, than we all receive in the ordinary acts of daily life. Bring in what is meant by either magnetism, or mesmerism, or psychology, or psychism, or by any other term expressive of that action upon and within a human being, which lets either his own spirit-senses or the forces of some outside intelligence get play therein independent of and superior to the owner's outer or physical senses, and we then may have fitting and adequate instrumentality through which finite intelligence can legitimately produce all the marvels that human eyes have ever witnessed. Professor Cromwell F. Varley, one of England's most eminent electricians, said, when addressing a committee of the London Dialectical Society, "I believe the mesmeric trance and the spiritual trance are produced by similar means, and I believe the mesmeric and the spiritual forces are the same. They are both the action of a spirit, and the difference between the spiritual trance and the mesmeric trance I believe is this: in the mesmeric trance, the will that overpowers or entrances the patient is in a human body; in the spiritual trance, that will which overpowers the patient is not in a human body." The position taken by Mr. Varley, whose observations were made mostly within his own domestic circle, and whose professional pursuits led him to be a constant and careful observer of the nature, properties, and actions of delicate forces, is worthy of much regard. His view is probably in harmony with the conclusion of most minds which have studied carefully the outworkings of mesmerism and Spiritualism. The two isms, in some views of them, are essentially one in nature, the latter being the butterfly or moth that came from out the former. The grub and its moth are the same being in different stages of development. Multitudes of human beings raised, and to be raised, from lower to higher development have their habitats along the line where the material and spiritual interblend, and some are measurably amphibious there--can move and act in either of two auras. The younger, or less advanced, flesh-clad mesmerists, prevailingly abide in the material, while spirits have their most congenial residence generally beyond where the palpably material extends; but either class can at times bring under their control the physical systems of many human beings. By means of this psychism, or this outworking of soul power, there may be kept up reciprocal action or intercommunion between what are usually called the material and spiritual worlds, both of which absolutely are natural, and are pervaded by interacting natural forces which are at the service of peculiarly endowed, or constituted, or unfolded persons, who are, or may become, competent and disposed to use them. A disembodied spirit no more needs special permission or aid from Omnipotence for acting upon men and matter, than the diver needs such for deep descents beneath the water's surface. Natural permission for spirits to reincase themselves in, or to act upon, palpable matter, is as free and full as man's is to put on submarine armor. This much we have said for the purpose of disclosing our stand-points of observations and reasonings pertaining to Salem witchcraft, and now come to more direct consideration of that special topic. At Salem Village about a dozen people, mostly the girls previously named, were strangely and grievously tormented, at short intervals, during several months. They often endured contortions, convulsions, and very acute sufferings. At times many of them became deaf, dumb, blind, &c. Seemingly to beholders they personally performed most strange and incredible feats of strength and simulations, and made astounding utterances. Because of these doings and sufferings they were, after some weeks of observation, deemed to be "under an evil hand"--were pronounced _bewitched_, and were termed, in the parlance of that day, "the afflicted." According to the faith of those times, no person could be bewitched in any other way than through some other embodied person who had entered into a covenant with the _Devil_, and voluntarily become his instrument or his agent. It was then assumed, also, that the afflicted ones could perceive who the person or persons were through whom the devil tormented them. Consequently the sufferers were teased, coaxed, or driven to name some one or more who was causing their sufferings. Those named by the sufferers as producers of their maladies were called the accused, or were said to be "cried out upon." Belief in the ability of the afflicted to designate accurately their afflicters, was then prevalent; but though probably born of facts in human experience, and in itself fundamentally correct, it was indiscreetly and harmfully applied. The mediumistic or psychologized condition often renders its subjects practically independent of time, space, and gross matter, and makes them possessors of ability to feel, or rather to _sense_, contact with the properties of some peculiarly constituted mortals, even though such persons at the time be physically many miles away. The persons from whom such agitating emanations would proceed would generally themselves be highly mediumistic. If the inner or spiritual perceptive organs of Mr. Parris, Dr. Griggs, Thomas Putnam, and their consulting associates, of whom we shall speak hereafter, were inextricably interblended with their outer bodies, so that they were, par excellence, non-mediumistic, their presence near the bodies of persons infilled with abnormal properties by spirits might be imperceptible by the entranced, while either the poor, "melancholy, distracted" (?) Sarah Good, or "bed-rid" Mrs. Osburn (who will come into notice on a future page), if highly mediumistic, might, though being then in their distant homes bodily, be present as spirits, and their emanations might be distinctly felt by the suffering girls, and be by them visibly traced to their sources. Mediumistic states or entrancements, however induced, often bring their subjects into rapport with other mediumistic persons afar off, while they as often shut off sensibility to the presence of the physically imprisoned or very slightly impressible ones who are near by. The saying that "birds of a feather flock together" apparently has more constant application outside of gravitation's dominating reach than within it--more among relatively freed spirits than among rigidly body-hampered ones. That there exist special occult forces, whose action frequently enables mediumistic persons, while under spirit manipulations, to know assuredly that emanations from special human organisms act upon them to either their pleasure or their annoyance is very clearly indicated by the experiences of some modern mediums; for these are often heard to speak of influences coming to their help or their harm from particular persons, who, at the time, are known to be miles away. Mediumistic intuitions often very accurately trace influences to some definite mundane source; that source frequently is where the disembodied operating spirit gets such an equivalent to a nervous fluid as is needful to give him or her contact with and control over matter. Some mediumistic systems may at times contain enough of such quasi nerve-producing elements to meet all the needs of the controlling spirit, while others usually lack them to such extent that drafts to supply the deficiency are made from the systems of others more or less remote from the point of application. If the harassed and tortured children in the family of Mr. Parris were acted upon by spirits, they might be, at times, able to _sense_ the fact that forceful action upon them came perceptibly forth from the bodily forms of particular living persons. Broad human observation and experience through the ages had generated conclusion that bewitched persons could designate those from whom their inflictions came. Therefore our fathers would with conscious propriety ask any one whom they supposed to be under "an evil hand," "Who hurts you?" They would look for an answer, and, if one came, would deem it correct. It was, then, logically necessary for them to confide in the accuracy of any responses which might issue from the lips of the sufferers, so long as their creed was made chief premise. Sneers at belief that psychologized persons know from whom the force comes which generates their condition, may argue less knowledge in the sneerer's brain, of forces and agents that sometimes act upon men, than in the heads of those who in former days sought to learn from bewitched girls what particular persons afflicted them. The world, while learning much, may have been forgetting some important knowledge. The belief held by many of our forefathers, that the afflicted would generally know that afflicting forces came to them from the persons whom they named, though measurably correct in itself, was rendered most woefully disastrous in its application, because of its concomitant erroneous belief that such afflicting forces could go forth from none but such as were in covenant with witchcraft's awful devil. The fact of one's being a channel through which occult wonder-working forces could flow, was, in those days, proof positive that he or she had tendered allegiance to and made a compact with the Evil One. That was the specially great and disastrous error which engendered witchcraft. Susceptibilities which were in fact only nature's boons, were looked upon as acquisitions obtained through a diabolical compact. Some laws of psychology partially revealed and comprehended now, were then not dreamed of; and deductions from false premises or from an erroneous belief, being then applied by clear-headed and good men for noble ends, yes, for God's glory and man's protection, caused out-workings of unspeakable woes. The persons most _afflicted_ at Salem Village were Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. Parris, nine years old; Abigail Williams, his niece, eleven; Ann Putnam, twelve; Mercy Lewis, seventeen; Mary Walcut, seventeen; Elizabeth Hubbard, seventeen; Elizabeth Booth, eighteen; Sarah Churchill, twenty; Mary Warren, twenty: to these girls may be added Mrs. Ann Putnam, mother of the girl of the same name; also a Mrs. Pope and a Mrs. Bibber. Nearly all of these occupied very good social positions, and many of them were surrounded and cared for by as intelligent, moral, and religious people as that or any other parish in the neighborhood contained. Yes, from amidst the very breath of prayer, the light of intelligence, the sway of strong authority, and the restraining influences of religion, these reputable, and no doubt generally amiable, conscientious, and kind-hearted girls and women during all their previous years, suddenly became utterers of what were then regarded most damning accusations against their neighbors and acquaintances first, and subsequently against strangers living remote from them; against the low and the high, the vicious and the virtuous, the feeble-minded and the strong in intellect alike. And in their strange and desolating work these people, of exemplary deportment previously, moved on harmoniously, encouraging and strengthening each other, and without manifesting the slightest regret. A marked and startling specimen this of what mortal tongues may be used to accomplish! And yet those tongues generally may have only described what senses perceived. History has said--no, not history--but invalid supposition has said that sportiveness, malice, love of notoriety, and the like, inherent in the minds and hearts of those young girls and women, were the chief incentives to and producers of the woeful, the murderous accusations and statements which came forth from their youthful lips. It was not so. One may as well call a pencil or a pen a malicious accuser when it is made to record malicious accusations, as to call those girls the contrivers and enactors of many scenes which were presented by use of their bodies. We quote as follows from church records, penned by the Rev. Mr. Parris himself, in whose house the great and awful commotion originated:-- "It is altogether undeniable that our Great and Blessed God, for wise and holy ends, hath suffered many persons in several families of this little Village to be grievously vexed and tortured in body, and to be deeply tempted to the endangering of the destruction of their souls, and all these amazing feats (well known to many of us) to be done by witchcraft and diabolical operations. "It is well known that when these calamities first began, which was in my own family, the affliction was" (had existed) "_several weeks_, before such hellish operations as witchcraft was suspected; Nay, it never broke forth to any considerable light, until diabolical means was used, by the making of a cake by my Indian _man_, who had his directions from our sister Mary Sibly. Since which time apparitions have been plenty, and exceeding much mischief hath followed. But by this means (it seems) the devil hath been raised amongst us, and his rage is vehement and terrible, and when he shall be silenced, the Lord only knows." The statements just presented have come down from one whose position and whose mental powers qualified him to be as important a witness as any other person whatsoever could be; they come from one of keen intellect and ready perceptions, who saw the scenes of _Salem_ witchcraft in their first externally observable stages of development, and also throughout most of their subsequent unfoldments and disastrous workings. These statements were semi-private; were made in the _church_ and not the parish records; were made to be read by those who should come after him, rather than by those of his own times. And in such records he states that "amazing feats" were performed "_by witchcraft and diabolical operations_." What were those feats? It has been said generally concerning the whole Salem circle of proficients in "necromancy, magic, and Spiritualism," that "they would creep into holes, and under benches and chairs, put themselves into odd and unnatural postures, make wild and antic gestures, and utter incoherent and unintelligible sounds. They would be seized with spasms, drop insensible to the floor, or writhe in agony, suffering dreadful tortures, and uttering loud and fearful cries."--_History of Witchcraft and Salem Village_, vol. ii. p. 6. An acute observer, who was also a definite and methodical describer of a portion of the actions referred to, says the sufferers were "in vain" treated medicinally; that "they were oftentimes very stupid in their fits, and could neither hear nor understand, in the apprehension of the standers-by;" that "when they were discoursed with about God or Christ ... they were presently afflicted at a dreadful rate;" that "they sometimes told at a considerable distance, yea, several miles off, that such and such persons were afflicted, which hath been found to be done according to the time and manner they related it; and they said the specters of the suspected persons told them of it;" that "they affirmed that they saw the ghosts of several departed persons;" that "one, in time of examination of a suspected person, had a pin run through both her lower and her upper lip when she was called to speak, yet no apparent festering followed thereupon after it was taken out;" that "some of the afflicted ... in open court ... had their wrists bound fast together with a real cord by invisible means;" that "some afflicted ones have been drawn under tables and beds by undiscerned force;" that "when they were most grievously afflicted, if they were brought to the accused, and the suspected person's hand laid upon them, they were immediately relieved out of their tortures;" that "sometimes, in their fits, they have had their tongues drawn out of their mouths to a fearful length, ... and had their arms and legs ... wrested as if they were quite dislocated, and the blood hath gushed plentifully out of their mouths for a considerable time together; I saw several violently strained and bleeding, ... certainly all considerate persons who beheld those things must needs be convinced that their motions in their fits were preternatural and involuntary, ... they were much beyond the ordinary force of the same persons when they were in their right minds;" that "their eyes were, for the most part, fast closed in their trance-fits, and when they were asked a question, they could give no answer; and I do verily believe they did not hear at that time; yet did they discourse with the specters as with real persons."--_Deodat Lawson._ They affirmed that "_they saw the ghosts of several departed persons_," and they did "_discourse with the specters as with real persons_." This looks like Spiritualism. The above extracts describe a part only of the amazing feats. Mr. Parris apprehended that this extensive diabolism was inaugurated through the making of a peculiar cake by his Indian man John. Either a sneer or a smile will probably drape the reader's face when he perceives that a clergyman in a former age deemed it probable that a compound offensive to refined taste (a cake made of meal mixed with urine from the suffering children) was so appetizing to the devil that it drew him from his wonted distance into close affinity with mortal forms, and increased his power to afflict them. Perhaps that clergyman had read what the reader may peruse by turning to the concluding portion of chap. iv. of Ezekiel, where preparation of food was prescribed for that prophet's use while he was in process of being trained for pliancy under manipulations by some unseen intelligence--such preparation of food as was not less offensive than such a cake as John Indian furnished. We do not find a great producing cause of the _amazing feats_ where Mr. Parris did, and are not prepared to regard Mary Sibley's prescription as having been very efficacious. Still we might admit the possibility that the real author of the feats was present when John kneaded that cake, leavened it with supermundane yeast, and made use of it as an instrumentality for coming into closer contact than before with the human bodies from which part of the ingredients of the cake had been derived. Both spirits and unfolded mediums often either prescribe or apply--as Jesus did when he treated a blind patient by application of a plaster composed of his own spittle and street dust--things which mankind at large would regard as either offensive or inert. Human mediums may be, and the observations of thousands now living indicate that they often are, made to prepare strange compounds, and prescribe them for the sick, the suffering, and for unpliant mediums. Who was "my Indian man"? Yes; who that baker whose cake raised the devil, and caused apparitions to become exceeding plenty? Mr. Parris, prior to being a minister of the gospel, had been a merchant in Barbadoes, and at the commencement of the strange feats alluded to, had in his family some servants, whom he called Indians; but they probably were natives either of some one of the West India islands or of the neighboring coast of South America, whom he had brought thence, and who were, doubtless, by nature less firm and self-reliant than our northern Indians usually are. Two of these servants, or slaves, viz., John Indian, the cake-baker, and his wife, Tituba, were among the first, if they were not the very first, persons there to succumb, and yield subjection to the peculiar influences which developed the terrible events we are considering. Those two humble, ignorant, weak-minded slaves may have been, and we regard them as having been, though unintentionally and unconscious of it, very efficient aids in the outward manifestation of what their master properly termed "amazing feats." John seems, so far as records depict him, to have been only about as much of a medium as King Saul was; that is, one that could be made to tumble down and roll about in unseemly ways. There may, and there may not, have been properties in his composition which were very helpful to spirits in gaining control over other persons. However that may have been, he was not perceptibly much of a medium, and had but little connection with the events which so harassed his master and neighbors, as far as can now be shown. But his wife, Tituba, deserves extended notice and careful study. Before the observable works were commenced, she was clairvoyant and clairaudient, and her aid in the amazing feats which transpired was solicited in advance by a nocturnal visitant needing no opened door for entrance. She entered behind the scene,--behind the vail of flesh,--and her spirit eyes saw the chief manager. She is the great eye-witness in the case. She was a medium easy of control, and, Agassiz-like, retained her consciousness and her memory of experiences while her form was subjected to control by another's will. Obviously, also, she was an uncommonly good developing medium, or, in other words, her constitutional properties were such as greatly aided spirits to develop the mediumistic susceptibilities of other persons. This humble, illiterate slave, besides being apparently the chief focus or reservoir of supermundane forces that evolved the Salem wonders, was one among the first three persons who were arrested and brought before the civil tribunals under charges of practicing witchcraft. Her statements at her examination were recorded very fully by one of the two magistrates who conducted the proceedings. And the transmitted words of this simple-minded creature, whose intellect was incompetent to foresee the consequences of her answers and statements, throw more light upon the origin and growth, and upon the nature and true character, of Salem witchcraft, than does all that came from other lips, or any pens of her cotemporaries, or than has come from subsequent historians. Her mediumistic susceptibilities gave her admittance where she was an actual observer of the real author of and actors in that memorable drama. Her knowledge was derived directly through one set of her own senses, and therefore she was able to speak of, and apparently did speak simply and truthfully of, persons and scenes which her inner organs of sense had cognized. She _knew_ more than did all her prosecutors and judges combined concerning the matters under investigation at her trial; and could those who then presided have been nobly humble enough to learn from such a witness, and single-eyed enough to admit into their own minds the literal import of her simple statements, the horrors which were subsequently experienced would never have transpired. But the faith of those times forbade such elevation. Tituba's general, if not uniform frankness, and the extreme simplicity of her answers, tend strongly to beget confidence in the intentional and substantial truthfulness of her statements. We deem it unjust to doubt her truthfulness. And the general accuracy of her testimony is now rendered credible by its harmony with a mass of facts pertaining to Spiritualism. If the truth and accuracy of her words be conceded,--and they ought to be,--we learn distinctly that during the "several weeks" through which Mr. Parris's afflicted daughter and niece were treated by their physician and cared for by the family and friends without suspicion of witchcraft, Tituba was positively _knowing_ that something like a man, invisible to outward sense, visited herself, and sought and sometimes forced her co-operation in pinching the two little girls and in producing their seeming sicknesses. Her experience proved to her that the sufferings of the children were purposely inflicted by an intelligent being something like a man. Her statements prove the same to us. Such testimony as hers, by such a lowly person as she was, when given before a tribunal whose members were firm believers in such a devil and in such a creed as have been described in our Appendix, even if fairly comprehended by them, would cause her judges to believe that she was virtually confessing that she had made a covenant with the Evil One. From their premises they could not logically draw any other conclusion. Perhaps, unfortunately for her, but not for us at this day, her intellect was too feeble to perceive the inferences which would be drawn from her words. Fearing not consequences, she could frankly tell her experiences and observations; she let out the exact facts of the case, and furnished for us a sound historic basis for the assertion that the strange maladies which came upon the little girls in Mr. Parris's house were designedly and deliberately imposed by a disembodied spirit or a band of spirits. The mouths of not only babes and sucklings, but of adults of feeble intellect, present facts, sometimes, better than those whose intellects are swayed by fears of dreaded consequences which might ensue from frank and full avowal of their knowledge. From Tituba came statements of facts to which we must give prolonged attention. A perusal of the fullest minutes of her testimony may be wearisome, but her account of what she saw, heard, and was made to do, is so instructive that we shall present it without abridgment, because it was first printed in full only a few years ago, was probably never seen or known to exist by Hutchinson, was not availed of by Upham, and not very carefully analyzed by Drake. Only a very limited portion of the reading public has ever had opportunity to learn more than a small fraction of the disclosures made by this important witness. Upham, though he had perused the minutes of testimony to which we allude, elected to use a briefer report of Tituba's statements, which was made by Ezekiel Cheever. The more extended one he noticed thus: "Another report of Tituba's examination has been preserved in the second volume" (we find it in vol. iii., appendix, p. 185) "of the collection edited by Samuel G. Drake, entitled the 'Witchcraft Delusion in New England.' It is in the handwriting of Jonathan Corwin, very full and minute." It is "full, minute," and abounding in facts which the faithful historian should adduce and comment upon. It was written out by one of the magistrates before whom Tituba was examined, and therefore its authority is good. It surprises us that the historian who noticed it as above failed to use much important matter contained in it which was lacking in the report that he preferred to this. Drake, under whose supervision this ampler report was first printed, says, in Woodward's "Historical Series," No. I. Vol. III. Appendix p. 186, that "it is valuable on several accounts, the chief of which is the light it throws on the commencement of the delusion.... This examination, more, perhaps, than any of the rest, exhibits the atrocious method employed by the examinant of causing the poor ignorant accused to own and acknowledge things put into their mouths by a manner of questioning as much to be condemned as perjury itself, inasmuch as it was sure to produce that crime. In this case the examined was taken from jail and placed upon the stand, and was soon so confused that she could scarcely know what to say. While it is evident that all her answers were at first true, because direct, straightforward, and reasonable. The strangeness of the questions and the long persistence of the questioners could lead to no other result but confounding what little understanding the accused was at best possessed of.... The examination was before Messrs. Hathorne and Corwin. The former took down the result, which is all in his peculiar chirography." Upham, it will be noticed, says the report was written by Corwin, while Drake here ascribes it to Hathorne. But since those two men were both present as joint holders of the examining court, the authority of either gives great value to the document; we regard the record as having been made by Corwin. While Drake says this record of "the examination is valuable" for "the light it throws on the commencement of the delusion," he also calls it a "record of incoherent nonsense." The public very narrowly escaped loss of opportunity to get at the important and luminous facts contained in this document. Drake, in 1866, says, "The original (now for the first time printed) came into the editor's hands some five and twenty years since," at which time, "on a first and cursory perusal of the examination of the Indian woman belonging to Mr. Parris's family, it was concluded not to print it, and only refer to it; that is, only refer to the _extract_ from it contained in the HISTORY AND ANTIQUITIES OF BOSTON. But when editorial labors upon these volumes were nearly completed, a re-perusal of that examination was made, and the result determined the editor to give it a place in this Appendix." We are constrained to doubt whether this editor attained to anything like either fair comprehension of the value of this document even upon its re-perusal, or that he perceived one half the import which facts fairly give to the following words from his pen: "The record of this examination _throws light on the commencement of the delusion_." Yes, light upon the time, place, source, and nature of that commencement, and which also discloses who was the originating, and probably the guiding agent of all that witchcraft's subsequent process up to its culmination--light which, to great extent, exculpates both the fathers and their children--light which reveals the true actors and exonerates their _unconscious_ instruments. That document, read, as it now can be, with help from modern revealments, proves that some spirit, or a band of spirits, was witchcraft's generator and enactor at Salem, and indicates that simple Tituba comprehended the genuine source of the disturbance more clearly than did any other known person of that generation. She furnished for transmission a key that now unlocks the door of the chamber of mystery, in which she and her associates were made to enact thrilling and bloody scenes one hundred and eighty years ago. That such as desire to do so may be enabled to peruse the whole of her testimony, which probably can now be found printed only in Woodward's very valuable Series of original documents pertaining to witchcraft,--a work too voluminous and costly to obtain general circulation,--we shall do what we can to further public accessibility to Tituba's statement, ungarbled and unabridged. Still, to both relieve and enlighten the reader, we shall break up its continuity by interjecting comments upon many parts as we go on, but do this in such form, that, if the reader chooses to peruse the whole unbiased by comment, he can; for this will require only an observance of our quotation marks. By skipping our comments he can read in their original collocations all parts of what Drake calls "incoherent nonsense," but which to us, notwithstanding some perplexing incoherence of both questions and answers, is rich in instructive _facts_. Prior to March 1, the malady seems to have spread out beyond the parsonage and seized upon other persons, for on that day several afflicted ones were convened as witnesses, or accusers, or both, at the place where the magistrates then appeared for attending to the cases of three women who had been accused of witchcraft, arrested, and held for examination. Here was the commencement of reputed folly and barbarity so exercised as soon to redden that region with the blood of the innocent, the manly, the virtuous, and the devout. Sarah Good, Sarah Osburn, and Tituba were brought into the meeting-house as suspected witches and as producers of the sufferings of the several afflicted ones, to be examined in the presence of their accusers and the public. What course the magistrates either elected or were constrained to pursue in order to educe such facts as would sustain a charge for witchcraft, will reveal itself as we proceed, through the questions which they put to the accused, and the kinds of evidence which they admitted. TITUBA. "_Tituba, the Indian woman, examined March 1, 1692._ "_Q._ Why do you hurt these poor children? What harm have they done unto you? "_A._ They do no harm to me. I no hurt them at all." The first question by the magistrates implies the presence there of the afflicted children, and of their then seeming to be invisibly hurt. It also implies the magistrate's assumption that Tituba was hurting them. Her denial that either they had harmed her or that she was hurting them was distinct. But the magistrate seemingly doubted its truth or its sufficiency, for he next asked,-- "_Q._ Why have you done it? "_A._ I have done nothing. I can't tell when the devil works. "_Q._ What? Doth the devil tell you that he hurts them? "_A._ No. He tells me nothing." She conceded here that the _Devil_ might be, and probably was, at work upon the children; but _his_ doings were beyond the reach of her perceptive faculties. _He_ made no communication to her. Thus early her words indicate that her knowledge of spiritual matters caused her to draw and adhere to a distinction between _The Devil_ and either _a Spirit_, or bands of spirits, which distinction she and other mediumistic ones of her times adhered to, while the public lacked knowledge that facts required it, and ignorantly called all visitants from spirit realms _The Devil_. When glancing at Cotton Mather's unpublished account of Mercy Short, we copied from it the following statement: "As the bewitched in other parts of the world have commonly had no other style for their tormentors but only THEY and THEM, so had Mercy Short." Clairvoyants and all who obtained knowledge of spirits through perceptions by their own interior organs seldom, if ever, have seriously spoken of either seeing, hearing, or feeling the _Devil_. Possibly, at times, some may have done so by way of accommodation to the unillumined world's modes of speech. But, as Mather says, they have, the world over, _generally_ called the personages perceived, "_They_" and "_Them_." Such a fact demands regard. The personal observers of spiritual beings have never been accustomed to designate them by bad names. Fair inference from this is, that such beings have not generally worn forbidding aspects. It has been the reporters, and not the utterers, of descriptive accounts of spiritual beings who have made use of the terms "devil," "satan," and the like. Mather perceived the common "style" of the bewitched, and yet the warping habit of Christendom made him preserve continuance of inaccurate reporting; for he, like most others in his day, persistently wrote "devil," where that name was not announced, and ought not to have been foisted in. Tituba saw no one whom she ever called _The Devil_, though history has taught that she did. "_Q._ Do you never see something appear in some shape? _A._ No. Never see anything." This answer is not true if construed literally in connection with its question. She did, as will soon appear, sometimes see many things clairvoyantly, but never _The Devil_, who had just before been mentioned. "_Q._ What familiarity have you with the devil, or what is it that you converse withal? Tell the truth, who it is that hurts them. _A._ The devil, for aught I know." She persistently admits that the devil _may_ be then and there at work, but asserts that she does not know anything about _him_. "_Q._ What appearance, or how doth he appear when he hurts them?" She makes no reply when asked how the _Devil_ hurts. She ignores _him_. "_Q._ With what shape, or what is _he_ like that hurts them? _A._ Like a man, I think. Yesterday, I being in the lean-to chamber, I saw a thing _like a man_, that told me serve him. I told him no, I would not do such thing." _Devil_ had now been dropped from the question, and _he_ substituted. What is _he_ like? Then she promptly mentioned an apparition not only visible, but audible, who, if carefully scanned, may prove to have been chief author and enactor of Salem witchcraft. She who saw and heard him says he was "like a man, I think,"--was "a thing like a man." According to her perceptions he was not the devil. She did not know the devil. Others at that time and ever since have called her visitant the devil. But Tituba, who saw, heard, and thus knew him, did not and would not. Next comes in, parenthetically, a summary of her sayings and doings, as follows:-- ("She charges Goody Osburn and Sarah Good, as those that hurt them children, and would have had her done it; she saith she hath seen four, two which she knew not; she saw them last night as she was washing the room. They told me hurt the children, and would have had me gone to Boston. There was five of them with the man. They told me if I would not go and hurt them, they would do so to me. At first I did agree with them, but afterward, I told them I would do so no more.") According to this summary, apparitions multiplied; for, besides the man, she saw four women around herself: that company threatened to hurt her if she would not unite with them in hurting the children. Two of these were apparitions of her living neighbors, Good and Osburn, then under arrest; the other three were strangers. We shall soon see that she believed, what is probably true, that apparitions of particular persons can be not only presented by occult intelligences to the inner vision, but put into apparent vigorous action, while the genuine persons thus presented in counterfeit have no consciousness either of being present at the exhibition, or of performing, either then or at any other time, the acts which they seem to put forth. The conceptions which this simple mind held concerning the nature, powers, and purposes of those who came to her in manner strange to most mortals, are pretty clearly indicated. By her likening them to men and women, and by her protests against their forcing her to act cruelly, she justifies the inference that she failed to see in or about them anything very forbidding, awful, or satanic. She admitted the possibility that the devil might have hurt the children, but also asserted that, if so, _his_ action was unbeknown to her. The "something like a man," together with these women and herself under compulsion, were the afflicting ones, so far as her vision or other senses could determine. _She_ nowhere applies the term "devil" to her male apparition. No hoofs, horns, or tail, no sable hues or frightful form, are brought to view by this clairvoyant's description of her occult companions. They wore, in her sight, the semblances of a man and of women--not of devils. How different would have been results had her simple words and instructive facts been credited and made the basis of judicial decisions! Could she have been calmly and rationally listened to by minds freed from a blinding and irritating faith that Christendom's witchcraft devil was her companion and prompter, her plain and definite exposition of the actors who generated troubles which were profound mysteries to her superiors in external knowledge and penetration, would have brought all the marvels of that day within the domain of natural things, and warded off the horrors which ensued. "_Q._ Would they have had you hurt the children last night? _A._ Yes, but I was sorry, and I said I would do so no more, but told I would fear God. _Q._ But why did not you do so before? _A._ Why, they tell me I had done so before, and therefore I must go on. (These were the four women and the man, but she knew none but Osburn and Good only; the others were of Boston.") If we get at what Tituba meant by the words just quoted, it was substantially this: "They wanted me, and forced me against my will, to join with them in hurting the children last night. I was sorry that I was forced to act cruelly, and told them that I would not be forced to it again, but would serve God. I did not take that stand before, because they told me I had already worked with them, and therefore must go on. "_Q._ At first beginning with them, what then appeared to you? What was it like that got you to do it? _A._ One like a man, just as I was going to sleep, came to me. This was when the children was first hurt. He said he would kill the children and she would never be well; and he said if I would not serve him he would do so to me." The witness was here apparently brought to describe her _first_ interview with the author of Salem witchcraft. We see her now standing at the fountainhead of the devastating torrent which soon deluged the region far around with terror, anguish, and blood. Who first appeared to her? Who was the prime mover? And when was he first seen? Subsequent statements are soon to show that on Friday, January 15, 1692, six weeks and four days before the time when she gave in this testimony, _one like a man, just as she was going to sleep_, came to her and demanded her aid in hurting the children. The fact is clearly stated that five days before the Wednesday evening when the children were first hurt by spirit appliances, and supposed to be taken sick, "_one like a man_," when Tituba was about going to sleep, came to her and avowed his purpose, in advance, to torture and even kill the children. From that time forth she knew the source of the strange operations in her master's family. "_Q._ Is that the same man that appeared before to you, that appeared last night and told you this? _A._ Yes." Her visitor was the same person on these two different occasions, which were more than six weeks apart, and in her various clairvoyant excursions and feats he was frequently, if not always, her attendant. "_Q._ What other likenesses besides a man hath appeared unto you? _A._ Sometimes like a hog--sometimes like a great black dog--four times." "The man" probably assumed or presented those brutish forms. A frequent teaching of spirit visitants is, that they "can assume any _form_ which the occasion requires;" they also have often given the impression that they cannot assume _hues_ brighter than inherently pertain to their own intellectual and moral conditions, but of this we have yet no conclusive information. "_Q._ But what did they say unto you? _A._ They told me serve him, and that was a good way. That was the black dog. I told him I was afraid. He told me he would be worse then to me." Her dog could talk. She and the court obviously understood the dog to be the same being, essentially, as the "one like a man." For,-- "_Q._ What did you say to him, then, after that? _A._ I answer I will serve you no longer. He told me he would do me hurt then." Can any one doubt that she conceived herself to be speaking to the same being, though in dog form, that she had yielded to before in form like a man? There is no indication that she had _previously_ served a dog, and yet she says to this one, I will serve you _no longer_. "_Q._ What other creatures have you seen? _A._ A bird. _Q._ What bird? _A._ A little yellow bird. _Q._ Where does it keep? _A._ With the man, who hath pretty things more besides. _Q._ What other pretty things? _A._ He hath not showed them unto me, but he said he would show them to me to-morrow, and told me if I would serve him, I should have the bird. _Q._ What other creatures did you see? _A._ I saw two cats, one red, another black, as big as a little dog. _Q._ What did these cats do? _A._ I don't know. I have seen them two times. _Q._ What did they say? _A._ They say serve them. _Q._ When did you see them? _A._ I saw them last night. _Q._ Did they do any hurt to you or threaten you? _A._ They did scratch me. _Q._ When? _A._ After prayer; and scratched me because I would not serve her. And when they went away _I could not see_, but they stood by the fire. _Q._ What service do they expect from you? _A._ They say more hurt to the children. _Q._ How did you pinch them when you hurt them? _A._ The other pull me and haul me to pinch the child, and I am very sorry for it." The cats also as well as the dog spoke and commanded her obedience. She saw these the night before her examination. "When they went away," she says, "I could not see." Those words may admit of two distinct and different meanings. First, that the cats disappeared without her being able to notice their exit; or, second, that before they went she became spiritually blind--"could not longer see" clairvoyantly. In a subsequent statement she pleads a sudden obscuration of her internal vision. All clairvoyants are subject to sudden interruptions of their spiritual power to see. She was pulled and hauled by "the other" with a view to force her to "pinch the child." Here again her obvious conviction was that the "other" was essentially more than mere brute. She did not think a cat pulled and hauled her, but meant that when the cats visited her, the "something like a man"--"the other"--was also present, and urged her on to mischief. "_Q._ What made you hold your arm when you were searched? What had you there? _A._ I had nothing. _Q._ Do not those cats suck you? _A._ No, never yet. I would not let them. But they had almost thrust me into the fire. _Q._ How do you hurt those that you pinch? Do you get those cats, or other things, to do it for you? Tell us how it is done. _A._ _The man sends the cats to me, and bids me pinch them_; and I think I went once to Mr. Griggs's, and have pinched her this day in the morning. The man brought Mr. Griggs's maid to me, and made me pinch her." By "the man" she obviously meant her frequent spirit visitor. He it was who brought the cats to her, and made her pinch them, and by so doing pinch the "maid," who physically was miles distant. Such is her statement. An inference from it is, that properties from Elizabeth Hubbard,--the maid in question,--who was among the afflicted ones, and was a member of _the circle_, were drawn out from her by "the man," and made component parts of apparitional cats formed by the man's thought and will powers, which seeming cats, being pinched by Tituba's spirit fingers, the Hubbard girl, some of whose properties were used for constructing those apparitional cats, felt the pinchings, first in her spirit, and thence in her flesh, though her body was two or three miles distant from the pincher. In that mode "the man" commanded the use of some properties in Tituba, by which he produced torture in a mediumistic physical organism then being far away. Another mode of spirit operation is indicated. Tituba confessed to a dim consciousness that once, by some process, her spirit-self had been got over to Dr. Griggs's, and pinched the maid at her home. Again, she believed that the same maid had been brought to her (Tituba's) abode and pinched there. Also it will be seen a little further on, that, Tituba being charged with having been over at the maid's home on a specified day, denied having been there at that particular time, but admitted that her apparition might, unconsciously to herself, have been seen there then, for she says, "may be send something like me." We enter a distinct protest against stigmatizing such testimony as "incoherent nonsense." In response to a command to tell _how_ the mysterious inflictions were brought about, this untaught, ignorant woman, calmly and with much distinctness, indicated four or five modes by which psychologic forces were brought to bear upon mediumistic subjects. She had seen the processes, and, in her simple way, told what she had learned by personal observation and experience; and thus she helps us, at this day, to fathom and expound the mysteries of witchcraft more effectually than do all her cotemporaries. Notwithstanding her limited command of language, her statements were about as distinct and instructive as any one then could have made upon such a topic; but the devil-warped public mind of that day was unable to see the literal import of her testimony, or to turn her knowledge to good account. Two other women, Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn, names previously mentioned, were, on the same March 1, 1692, under examination as co-operators with Tituba in practicing witchcraft. "_Q._ Did you ever go with these women? _A._ They are very strong, and pull me, and make me go with them. _Q._ Where did you go? _A._ Up to Mr. Putnam's, and make me hurt the child. _Q._ Who did make you go? _A._ A man that is very strong, and these two women, Good and Osburn; but I am sorry. _Q._ How did you go? What do you ride upon? _A._ I ride upon a stick or pole, and Good and Osburn behind me; we ride taking hold of one another; don't know _how_ we go, for I saw no trees nor path, but was presently there when we were up." The child above referred to was Ann Putnam, daughter, twelve years old, of Thomas and Ann Putnam, who resided from two to three miles north-west from the parsonage. This girl, Ann, was one of the excessively bewitched; that is, was one of the most impressible and mediumistic members of _The Circle_. Tituba and her two fellow-prisoners had, either all as spirits, or she as a conscious spirit and the other two as apparitions, visited that child at her home; and, according to her own apprehension, the three women all mounted one pole, rose up into the air, and were forthwith at Mr. Putnam's, having noticed neither path nor trees on the way. No reader will apprehend that Tituba's physical body then left the house of Mr. Parris and went off two miles or more, on a winter's night, to Mr. (Thomas) Putnam's house. She says that they were "presently [instantly] there." It was only her spirit form--_thought_ form--that went riding upon a pole above all woods and paths. But why to Thomas Putnam's? Probably because his wife and his daughter, as subsequent events showed, were both intensely mediumistic or susceptible to influence by _thought_ beings; they were persons upon whom such beings could work efficiently; and that was the special reason, probably, for a visit to them. "The man" may well be presumed to have possessed perceptive powers that could determine with much accuracy what persons in all the region round about possessed the constitutional properties and the surroundings which would permit them to become pliable and serviceable implements in executing any scheme he had devised. Subsequent events proved that he selected and used such as enabled him, through intense human agony and bloodshed, to break in pieces and abolish a most cramping and enslaving creed devil-ward, which, like a horrid and disabling nightmare, had for centuries been depressing and agonizing all Christendom. Whatever was his design, his selection of instrumentalities facilitated the out-working of a broad and happy emancipation from vast mental evil. It abolished prosecutions for witchcraft throughout both America and Europe. The ostensible object of that mental journey was to hurt the child. Such was the man's apparent intention. That man was "very strong," and he accomplished his purpose. Ann was hurt. His will-power was such, that, having once got hold of the elements of three susceptible and ignorant women, they were completely under his control. Tituba, who seems to have been always a _conscious_ medium, yielded perforce to him. Her own selfhood fought against his cruelties, and she felt sorry for what she was forced to do. When under examination she made free confession of her involuntary participation in the tormenting invasions upon innocent girls, thus unwittingly jeopardizing her own life. She seems to have been frank and truthful. "_Q._ How long since you began to pinch Mr. Parris's children? _A._ I did not pinch them at first, but they made me afterward. _Q._ Have you seen Good and Osburn ride upon a pole? _A._ Yes; and have held fast by me; I was not at Mr. Griggs's but once; but it may be send something like me; neither would I have gone, but they tell me they will hurt me." Her statement that "it may be send something like me," shows her belief, and probably her knowledge, that her "very strong" "something like a man" was able to produce the apparition of a mediumistic person even where such person had no consciousness of being present. Spirits, in modern times, often produce such effects, and show thereby that Tituba's comprehension of the case may have been in harmony with the nature of things, and strictly correct. She repeats again that her participation in the affairs was forced--that others made her pinch. "_Tituba._ Last night they tell me I must kill somebody with a knife. _Q._ Who were they that told you so? _A._ Sarah Good and Osburn, and they would have had me kill Thomas Putnam's child last night. (The child also affirmed that at the same time they would have had her cut off her own head; for if she would not, they told her Tituba would cut it off. And then she complained at the same time of a knife cutting her. When her master hath asked her (Tituba?) about these things, she saith they will not let her tell, but tell her if she tells, her head shall be cut off.) _Q._ Who tells you so? _A._ The man, Good, and Osburn's wife. (Goody Good came to her last night when her master was at prayer, and would not let her hear, and she could not hear a good while.) Good hath one of those birds, the yellow-bird, and would have given me it, but I would not have it. And in prayer-time she stopped my ears, and would not let me hear. _Q._ What should you have done with it? _A._ Give it to the children, which yellow-bird hath been several times seen by the children. I saw Sarah Good have it on her hand when she came to her when Mr. Parris was at prayer. I saw the bird suck Good between the fore-finger and long-finger upon the right hand." Those statements relating to the use of the knife, apparently _volunteered_ by Tituba and confirmed by the child, are quite suggestive. Assuming that there was present with them some powerful male spirit bent upon forceful action, and who, through Tituba and other impressibles, had obtained some palpable hold upon certain human forms and the affairs of external life, it was in his power to excite in the minds of any and all who had then been brought into rapport with himself, such ideas as those relating to the knife, and also to make the psychologized girl experience the sensation of being actually cut by it. Such would now be deemed an easy feat by any fair psychologist, either in the gross form or out of it, provided he had a favorable subject on whom to operate. The same spirit, too, drawing elements from Mrs. Good, and using them, could make Tituba feel as though Mrs. Good was by her side and making her suddenly deaf in prayer-time, even though it was the male spirit himself who then closed her ears. Evidences of mediumistic capabilities in either the afflicted or the afflicters are worthy of distinct observation, and therefore we draw attention to the statement that the yellow-bird "hath been several times seen _by the children_." Therefore the sufferers were clairvoyants, as well as the accused. "_Q._ Did you never practice witchcraft in your own country? _A._ No; never before now." That answer renders it probable that previous to the winter then passing she had never been conscious of the presence of spirits, or of conversations with or subjection to them. She, perhaps, reveals a lurking suspicion that her experiences of late might be witchcrafts. But her notions as to what constituted that might well, if not necessarily, be very different from those existing in the more unfolded and logical minds of her master and her examiners, who made the chief essence of it consist in a compact made with a Majestic and Malignant Devil--such a devil as would differ very widely in appearance from Tituba's "_man_." She freely described the unsought presence of a spirit-man with her on sundry occasions; also her talks with him, and forced service under him. This essentially was only disclosure of the fact that her own organism and temperaments were such and so conditioned that disembodied intelligences could sometimes be seen and heard by her, and could force her to be their tool. Her witchcraft was devoid of voluntary compact to serve an evil one; devoid of evil intent in its practice. If she confessed herself to be a witch, it was only a kindly and loving one, desiring to be truthful and good, and inflicting hurt only when forced to it. She confessed only to clairvoyance, clairaudience, and weakness of her own will-powers. "_Q._ Did you see them do it now while you are examining (being examined)? _A._ No, I did not see them. But I saw them hurt at other times. I saw Good have a cat beside the yellow-bird which was with her." Obviously some contortions, antics, or sufferings which the afflicted girls, who were present at the examination, had just experienced or were then manifesting, led to the question, "Did you see them do it now?" Here again appears the assumption of the court that Tituba might be gifted with powers or faculties which would enable her to discern animate and designing workers who were invisible by external optics. Her inner sight was closed then, but at some other times had been open. "_Q._ What hath Osburn got to go with her? _A._ A thing; I don't know what it is. I can't name it. I don't know how it looks. She hath two of them. One of them hath wings, and two legs, and a head like a woman. The children saw the same but yesterday, which afterward turned into a woman. _Q._ What is the other thing that Goody Osburn hath? _A._ A thing all over hairy; all the face hairy, and a long nose, and I don't know how to tell how the face looks; with two legs; it goeth upright, and is about two or three foot high, and goeth upright like a man; and last night it stood before the fire, in Mr. Parris's hall." The obscurity of this description is fully paralleled by the prophet Ezekiel, who, in presenting the beings seen in the first of his "visions of God," uses the following language, in chap. i.: "They had the likeness of a man, and every one had four faces, and every one had four wings; and their feet were straight feet; and the sole of their feet was like the sole of a calf's foot; and they sparkled like the color of burnished brass. And they had the hands of a man under their wings on their four sides; and they four had their faces and their wings; and their wings were joined one to another; and they turned not when they went; they went every one straight forward; as for the likeness of their faces, they four had the face of a man, and the face of a lion, on the right side; and they four had the face of an ox on the left side; they four also had the face of an eagle." This quotation from the Bible hints with much distinctness that inherent difficulties may beset any clairvoyant who undertakes to set forth in our language, which was formed for description of material objects, some things which are occasionally perceived by the spiritual senses. Where the prophet was so vague and mystical we may pardon the ignorant slave if she failed to be very lucid, and if one suspects her of attempting to put forth nothing but fiction, because she was so obscure, how can he consistently withhold similar suspicions in relation to the prophet? We will pass to the children's credit the fact that they also saw Osburn's ungainly and hairy attendant. "_Q._ Who was that appeared to Hubbard as she was going from Proctor's? _A._ It was Sarah Good, and I saw her send the wolf to her." Facts are transpiring in the present age which indicate with much distinctness that a spirit can present the semblance of a spirit-beast or other spirit-object to the vision of many clairvoyants at the same time, and also that he can, if he so elect, psychologize simultaneously all clairvoyants with whom he is in rapport, and cause them all to believe that they see any beast or object which his mind merely conceives of with distinctness. Therefore sight of a wolf by the mediumistic Hubbard girl, and Tituba's perception of the same proceeding from mediumistic Sarah Good, could all be produced by the mere volition of that "something like a man," provided only that he was then in rapport with all of those three sensitive ones. "_Q._ What clothes doth the man appear unto you in? _A._ Black clothes sometimes; sometimes serge coat of other color; a tall man with white hair, I think. _Q._ What apparel do the women wear? _A._ I don't know what color. _Q._ What kind of clothes hath she? _A._ Black silk hood with white silk hood under it, with top-knots; which woman I know not, but have seen her in Boston when I lived there. _Q._ What clothes the little woman? _A._ Serge coat, with a white cap, as I think. (The children having fits at this very time, she was asked who hurt them. She answers, Goody Good; and the children affirmed the same. But Hubbard being taken in an extreme fit, after [ward] she (Tituba) was asked who hurt her (Hubbard), and she said she could not tell, but said they blinded her and would not let her see; and after that was once or twice taken dumb herself.") That account of the clothes described the usual costumes of the time. We are glad to hear her say, "A tall man, with white hair, I think." That is her description of the "something like a man," and "the man" who has been so demonstrative. A tall man with white hair, need not be a very frightful object, and we can readily conceive that such a mind as Tituba's might be perfectly calm and self-possessed in his presence, and never imagine that abler minds might confound such a one with the devil. She never calls him the devil. The fact that she was made dumb two or three times, gives her case some resemblance to those of Ezekiel and Zacharias. Her ears, as before stated, had been stopped by Good, as she supposed, one evening during prayer-time. Thus we find her organs of sense subject to just such control as invisible intelligent operators exercised over prophetic or mediumistic ones of old, and such as spirits exercise over many mortal forms to-day. Her clairvoyance was obscured, perhaps, by "the man" when she was asked who was hurting the Hubbard girl, and replied that they blinded her now. _Second Examination, March 2, 1692._ "_Q._ What covenant did you make with that man that came to you? What did he tell you?" The first of those two questions was the crucial one at a trial for witchcraft. Had she made a _covenant_ with the devil, or any devotee of his? That was the main point to be determined. If she had, she was a witch, according to the prevalent creed; if she had not, she might be innocent of witchcraft. But seemingly the court could not wait for an answer, because, in the same breath, it asked, What did your visitant tell you? "_A._ He tell me he God, and I must believe him and serve him six years, and he would give me many fine things. _Q._ How long ago was this? _A._ About six weeks and a little more; Friday night before Abigail was ill." That last answer is very instructive. It fixes the exact time when one of the children in Mr. Parris's family was first attacked. For this second day's examination was held on Wednesday, March 2. It will appear from the above and future answers that the specters first attacked the children on a Wednesday evening, just six weeks before this 2d of March. The man appeared to and talked with Tituba on the Friday evening before that Wednesday in January. The testimony, therefore, takes us back to January 20th as the commencement of overt manifestation of spirit infliction of sufferings there. Five days further back, i. e., the evening of January 15, is apparently the date of "the man's" first recognized appearance. Therefore, until better information is obtained, we shall regard that as the date of the primal advent of the genuine author of witchcraft at Salem Village, whom we deem to have been also its regulator through its heart-rending unfoldings. "_Q._ What did he say you must do more? Did he say you must write anything? Did he offer you any paper? _A._ Yes, the next time he come to me; and showed me some fine things, something like creatures, a little bird something like green and white. _Q._ Did you promise him this when he first spake to you? Then what did you answer him? _A._ I then said this: I told him I could not believe him God. I told him I ask my master, and would have gone up, but he stopt me and would not let me. _Q._ What did you promise him? _A._ The first time I believe him God, and then he was glad. _Q._ What did he say to you then? What did he say you must do? _A._ Then he tell me they must meet together." There is some obscurity in this quotation, which raises the question whether the witness contradicts herself by stating that at her first interview she believed that her visitant was God himself (as John the Revelator did that a prophet returning from the spirit spheres and appearing to him was God), and her stating again that at the first interview she told him she could not believe that he was God, and proposed to go up and ask her master, Mr. Parris, what he thought about it, but was held back by her spirit-attendants from doing so. There is, we say, obscurity as to whether the account makes her apply both of these opposing statements to her conceptions of her visitor at the first interview with him, or whether it was not till a subsequent meeting that she doubted his Godship. As reported, her examiners are made quite as hard to understand and track as she is in her answers. But, upon a careful reading, we judge it fair and proper to conclude that her doubts concerning the character of her acquaintance were expressed as late as at the meeting on Wednesday, January 20, and not on the previous Friday. "_Q._ When did he say you must meet together? _A._ He tell me Wednesday next, at my master's house; and then we all [did] meet together, and that night I saw them all stand in the corner--all four of them--and the man stand behind me, and take hold of me, and make me stand still in the hall." We now must relinquish doubt as to the meetings at the parsonage, for here we have distinct historical mention of a _circle_, which met "at Mr. Parris's house" for the purpose of practically manifesting the skill and powers, not of learners, but of an expert in the wonders of "necromancy, magic, and especially of _Spiritualism_." This circle met, at five days' notice, on the evening of January 20, 1692. A man, or "something like a man," was at the head of it, and five females, three of them at least embodied ones, were his assistants, or rather were reservoirs from whence he drew forces with which to experiment upon two little mediumistic girls. If a club of women and girls sometimes met for such purposes as are alleged in foregoing citations,--and perhaps it did in a loose, irregular way,--we fancy that Tituba's tutor was ever among them taking notes, scrutinizing their several properties, capabilities, and circumstances, and planning when and how to use them for most efficient accomplishment of his purposes. The fact that he was present as author and master spirit when the first act of the Salem Village tragedy was visibly manifested through the twitchings and contortions of two little girls, is distinctly shown by Tituba's testimony. Therefore henceforth there can be neither historical nor philanthropic justice in imputing to the brains and wills of the little girls what a present and conscious clairvoyant witness imputes distinctly to one who looked "something like a man." Give to him--whoever he was--give to him his just dues; also bestow upon the girls neither censure nor praise for the help which their organisms and temperaments necessarily afforded him. This meeting of apparitions, be it noted and remembered, took place immediately _before_ the sickness of the children came on, and during its session, the children were pinched, and thus first became "afflicted ones." On that Wednesday night "Abigail first became ill." "_Q._ Where was your master then? _A._ In _the other room_. _Q._ What time of night? _A._ A little before prayer-time. _Q._ What did this man say to you when he took hold of you? _A._ He say, Go into _the other room_ and see the children, and do hurt to them and pinch them. And then I went in and would not hurt them a good while; I would not hurt Betty; I loved Betty; but they haul me, and make me pinch Betty, and the next Abigail; and then quickly went away altogether a[fter] I had pinch them. _Q._ Did you go into that room in your own person, and all the rest? _A._ Yes; and my master did not see us, for they would not let my master see." Mr. Parris and the children seem from the above to have been in the same apartment that evening, for Tituba states that he was "in the other room," and her dictator said to her, "Go into the other room," and hurt the children. That the master of the house was present with his daughter and niece then, may be indicated also in the statement that "they would not let my master see;" for this implies that they were in his presence, though invisible. If she went to the room in her physical form--which is not stated, and is not probable--though she did go there in her "own _person_," the others went only as spirits or as apparitions; and they did not so enrobe or materialize themselves as to be visible by outward eyes, and therefore did not become visible to Mr. Parris--they "would not let" him see. The first infliction upon the children, therefore, was made in his very presence, but by invisible hands--spirit hands or apparitional hands--touching the spirit forms of the mediumistic little girls, and through their own inner forms reaching, paining, and convulsing their physical bodies. It is interesting to note that because Tituba "loved Betty," she was able to resist the pressure upon her "a good while;" but her feeble powers were incompetent to oppose unyielding and effectual resistance to the strong will of the producer of painful experiences. "_Q._ Did you go with the company? _A._ No. I staid, and the man staid with me. _Q._ What did he then to you? _A._ He tell me my master go to prayer, and he read in book, and he ask me what I remember: but don't you remember anything." This account fails to furnish any very conclusive evidence that either of the four other women was on that occasion consciously present with Tituba and the man; it need only indicate the probability that he drew properties from each of them, wherever located, whether in the Village, in Boston, or elsewhere, which enabled him to present their apparitions to Tituba as helpers, and to effect rapport with and get power over the children. When his immediate purpose had been accomplished, no one but the man could be seen by her. He perhaps left the female apparitions to dissolve when his further need of their properties ceased. There is no evidence that Good and Osburn were conscious of being present where Tituba saw them, and therefore the other two female forms may have been purely apparitional--mental fabrics of "the man." But important points are clear. The man's controlling will, and subjugated Tituba's conscious self, were there. "_Q._ Did he ask you no more but the first time to serve him? Or the second time? _A._ Yes, he ask me again if I serve him six years; and he come the next time and show me a book. _Q._ And when would he come then? _A._ The next Friday, and showed me a book in the daytime, betimes in the morning. _Q._ And what book did he bring, a great or little book? _A._ He did not show it me, nor would not, but had it in his pocket. _Q._ Did he not make you write your name? _A._ No, not yet, for my mistress called me into the other room. _Q._ What did he say you must do in that book? _A._ He said write and put my name to it. _Q._ Did you write? _A._ Yes, once, I made a mark in the book, and made it with red like blood. _Q._ Did he get it out of your body? _A._ He said he must get it out. The next time he come again, he gave me a pin tied in a stick to do it with; but he no let me blood with it as yet, but intended another time when he came again. _Q._ Did you see any other marks in his book? _A._ Yes, a great many; some marks red, some yellow; he opened his book, and a great many marks in it. _Q._ Did he tell you the names of them? _A._ Yes, of two; no more: Good and Osburn; and he say they made them marks in that book, and he showed them me. _Q._ How many marks do you think there was? _A._ Nine. _Q._ Did they write their names? _A._ They made marks. Goody Good said she made her mark, but Goody Osburn would not tell. She was cross to me. _Q._ When did Good tell you she set her hand to the book? _A._ The same day I came hither to prison. _Q._ Did you see the man that morning? _A._ Yes, a little in the morning, and he tell me the magistrates come up to examine me. _Q._ What did he say you must say? _A._ He tell me tell nothing; if I did, he would cut my head off." The questions relating to the book and signatures were based on, and made important by, then prevalent belief that one's signature in the devil's book proved the signing of a covenant to be henceforth his servant. Tituba's statement that she had seen therein Sarah Good's signature in her own blood, well might be then deemed strong evidence that Mrs. Good was a witch, and was guilty of witchcraft. But we doubt whether the witness had any conception of the fatal import of her statement. Her testimony that Goody Osburn was cross to her, while amusing, is also suggestive of the deep question whether even an apparition, produced by use of unconscious elements drawn from a human system, could or would be so permeated with the existing mental and emotional moods of the person from whom they were drawn as to cause those moods to be perceived and felt by those who might see, and receive influences from, the apparition. "The man" told her that the magistrates had come or were coming to examine her. She might have known this already, and might not. Be that as it may, on the morning of her examination A SPIRIT spoke to her. His counsel was, that she should say nothing. This advice seems wise. But it was not very "cunning" in her to repeat it, and make known its source "in presence of Authority." Willing or not she was there constrained to speak out. Robert Calef, in "More Wonders of the Invisible World," reports her as saying, "that her master did beat her and otherwise abuse her to make her confess and accuse (such as he called) her sister witches, and that whatsoever she said by way of confessing, or accusing others, was the effect of such usage." "_Q._ Tell us true; how many women do you use to come when you ride abroad? _A._ Four of them; these two, Osburn and Good, and those two strangers. _Q._ You say there was nine. Did he tell you who they were? _A._ No, he no let me see, but he tell me I should see them the next time. _Q._ What sights did you see? _A._ I see a man, a dog, a hog, and two cats, a black and red, and the strange monster was Osburn's that I mentioned before; this was the hairy imp. The man would give it to me, but I would not have it. _Q._ Did he show you in the book which was Osburn's and which was Good's mark? _A._ Yes, I see their marks. _Q._ But did he tell you the names of the other? _A._ No, sir. _Q._ And what did he say to you when you made your mark? _A._ He said, Serve me; and always serve me. The man with the two women came from Boston. _Q._ How many times did you go to Boston? _A._ I was going and then came back again. I never was at Boston. _Q._ Who came back with you again? _A._ The man came back with me, and the women go away; I was not willing to go. _Q._ How far did you go--to what town? _A._ I never went to any town. I see no trees, no town. _Q._ Did he tell you where the nine lived? _A._ Yes; some in Boston and some here in this town, but he would not tell me who they were." We have now presented the full text of Tituba's testimony as recorded by Corwin and printed by Drake. Severed from the leading and jumbled questions which drew it forth, and reduced to a simple narrative, her statement would in substance be nearly as follows:-- Something like a man came to me just as I was going to sleep the Friday night before Abigail was taken ill, six weeks and a little more ago, who then told me that he was God, that I must believe him, and that if I would serve him six years he would give me many fine things. He said there must be a meeting at my master's house the next Wednesday, and on the evening of that day he and four women came there. Then I told him I could not believe that he was God, and proposed to go and ask Mr. Parris what he thought on that point; but the man held me back. They forced me against my will and my love for Betty to pinch the children; we did pinch them. That was the first night that Abigail was sick. Sometimes I saw the appearances of dogs, cats, birds, hogs, wolves, and a nondescript animal, some of whom spoke to me, and talked like the man. Yesterday, when I was in the lean-to chamber, I saw a thing like a man,--the same that I had seen before,--who asked me to serve him; and last night, when I was washing the room, the man and the four women all came again, and wanted me to hurt the children; and we all went up to Mr. Thomas Putnam's, and hurt Ann, and cut her with a knife. I went to the Hubbard girl once, and pinched her, and once the man brought her over to me, and I pinched her; but I was not there when they say I was, though it may be that the man sent my apparition over there then without my knowing it. I once saw what looked like a wolf go out from Mrs. Good and run to the Hubbard girl. How we travel I don't know; we go up in the air, and we are instantly at the place we intend to go to; we see no trees, no roads. The man brings cats or other things to me, and I pinch them; and by doing so the girls are pinched. Sometimes I can see these things for a while, and then instantly become blind to them. This morning the man came and told me the magistrates had come to examine me. Such are the principal points in Tituba's account of the origin and author of the disturbance or "amazing feats" at Mr. Parris's house. In the main, they are plain, direct, and seemingly true. They teach as clearly as words ever taught anything, that "something like a man"--"a tall man with white hair," dressed in "serge coat"--came and forced Tituba to pinch the children at the very time when one of them was first taken sick. They teach also that the same man appeared to Tituba several times, and was with her on the day of her examination. The spiritual source of the first physical manifestations which generated the great troubles at Salem Village is thus set forth with such clearness as will command credence in future ages, even if it shall fail to do so in this Sadducean generation. As before stated, another record of Tituba's testimony was made by Ezekiel Cheever, which is much less ample and particular than the one above presented. It omits entirely several very instructive and important parts--especially those which make known Tituba's earlier interviews with "the man;" those which fix the exact time when he first came to her; the exact time when Abigail was taken ill; and, more important still, those parts which describe the assemblage of spirits at Mr. Parris's house, and their deliberate inflictions of pains upon the children at the very time when their disordered conditions came upon them. Upham, by using Cheever's instead of the other account, failed to adduce several vastly important historic facts; the special facts which are essential to a fair presentation of the origin and nature of _Salem_ witchcraft. He nowhere recognizes the probably acute intellect, strong powers, persistent action, and inspiring presence of the _tall man with white hair and in serge coat_. Omitting these, he has but given us Hamlet with Hamlet left out. And this, too, not in ignorance, for he had seen Corwin's manuscript, which made clearly manifest the presence and doings of one spirit-personage especially, and taught many other facts that were not reconcilable with his theory. The tall man with white hair who visited Tituba on the evening of January 15, 1692, has such obvious and important connection with, and influence over, all the ostensible actors in the scenes which former witchcraft historians have depicted, as may revolutionize their theories, and teach the world that those expounders never traced their subject down to its genuine base; that they built, partly at least, upon the sands of either ignorance or misconception of the nature and actual source of what they discussed. There are some important differences in the two records of Tituba's testimony, even where the words and facts must have been the same. The following parallel passages present quite differing reports of what she said concerning her own knowledge of the devil:-- _Cheever._ _Corwin._ "Why do you hurt these "Why do you hurt these children?" "I do not hurt poor children? what harm them." "Who is it then?" have they done unto you?" "The devil, for aught I "They do no harm to me. know." "Did you ever I no hurt them at all." see the devil?" "The "Why have you done it?" devil come to me, and bid "I have done nothing. I me serve him." can't tell when the devil works." "What! Doth the devil tell you that he hurts them?" "No, he tells me nothing." Thus Cheever makes her say that "_the devil_" came to her and bade her serve him, while Corwin, reporting the same part of the examination makes her say that "_the devil_" never told her anything. Further on, Corwin makes her say, "A thing like a man told me serve him." Cheever says the _devil_ told her thus. Tituba herself, and all the clairvoyants of that age, preserved a distinction between the devil and the personages they saw, heard, and talked with. But the recorders of their testimony, failing to observe this distinction, often perverted the evidence. A comparison of the two records throughout suggests the probability that Corwin, who is most minute, gives the questions and answers in their original order and sequences much more nearly than does Cheever, whose record, when compared with the other, appears in some parts to be summings-up of several minutes' talks into a brief sentence or two, and also gives evidence of his taking it as obvious fact, that Tituba's "thing like a man" was the veritable devil. This is probable, because his minutes make her say "_the devil_ come to me, and bid me serve him," at a point in the examination where, according to Corwin, she said _the devil_ "tells me nothing." Thus the appearance is, that Cheever carried back in time words which _she_ subsequently applied to her "thing like a man," and on his own authority--not hers--applied them to "the devil." In Corwin's account, her conception of the separate individualities of "the devil" and her "thing like a man" reveals itself clearly, and is nowhere contravened. But Cheever, almost at the commencement of his record, and at a point where she, according to Corwin, said the devil told her _nothing_, reports her as then applying to _the devil_ what she a few minutes or hours afterward applied to her "thing like a man." According to the more full and the more trustworthy record, she at no time confessed to any interview with "_The Devil_," though she did freely to many conversations with "the man." These facts are important, very interesting, and instructive. As we interpret them now, they indicate that Tituba never confessed to any intercommunings with the devil, never charged Mrs. Good, Mrs. Osburn, or any one else with being familiar with his Sable Majesty, but only with "a tall man, with white hair," wearing a "serge coat." The court before whom she was questioned, and the people around, generally, no doubt, deemed her "thing like a man" to be the veritable devil, as Cheever did. But the more exact recorder of her words furnishes good grounds for belief that Tituba herself conceived otherwise. She who was gifted with faculties which let her see, hear, and feel the actors, apprehended that one of them at least was a disembodied human spirit; while the spiritually blind, but physically and logically keen-eyed ones around her, wrongfully inferred the presence of their Malignant and Mighty Devil with her. Some dates fixed by this witness in Corwin's account, and entirely omitted in Cheever's, are interesting and somewhat important. We learn what, so far as we know, escaped the notice of all former searchers, that it was on Friday, January 15, just as she was going to sleep, that "one like a man" came to her and appointed a meeting there at Mr. Parris's house, to take place on the next Wednesday evening. Accordingly, on Wednesday evening, January 20, "the man" and four women came, and then designedly and deliberately pushed Tituba on, and made her pinch the daughter and niece of Mr. Parris; and _on that very evening_, Abigail, at least, if not Betty also, "_was first taken ill_." Here is an important and significant coincidence. Just at the time when the illness was developed, spirits, in compliance with a previous arrangement, were there present at work seeking to produce just such a result as was manifested. Did they, or did other agencies, produce the mysterious disorders which seemed to devil-dreading beholders like diabolical obsessions? In view of all the facts, it is plain that a spirit or spirits caused the children to suffer. By failing to present the above points, which, though lacking in the account that he copied and followed, yet came under his eye, Upham clearly failed to use some very important historic facts which are essential to a fair presentation of both the time at which, and the agents through whom, Salem witchcraft had its origin, and consequently to a fair presentation of its nature. But those facts strenuously conflict with his theory that embodied girls and women were the designers and perpetrators of that great and terrific manifestation of destructive forces. How strong the chains of a pet theory! How blinding the cataracts of long-cherished conclusions! If there exists in the world's annals more distinct testimony that a particular individual was the deliberate and intentional producer of acts which generated suffering, than Tituba gave that the "thing like a man," which came to her once "when she was about going to sleep," once "in the lean-to chamber," once "when she was washing the room," and who, on Friday night, appointed a place for meeting the next Wednesday night, and, with assistants, kept his appointment, and then and there, as he had previously announced his purpose to do, severely "hurt the children"--if there ever was recorded testimony which more distinctly designated a particular being as the principal in planning and enacting any scheme than is this from Tituba, by which she designates over and over again "a tall man with white hair," wearing "black clothes sometimes, and sometimes serge coat of other color," as the chief executor of the strange and momentous development of illnesses in the family of Mr. Parris, I know not where that clearer testimony is recorded. He who ignored several very significant parts of what Tituba said, rejected corner-stones which are essential to the foundation of a genuinely philosophical disclosure of the source and consequent nature of the mysteries he attempted to explain. Tituba has been described by Upham as "indicating, in most respects, a mind at the lowest level of general intelligence," so that any one must be more rash than prudent who will impute to her ability to fabricate a series of facts, all of which seem to be natural and probable in the province of psychology. Mr. Parris informs us that the strange sicknesses existed in his family during several weeks before he or others had any suspicion that they might be of diabolical origin. Tituba dates their commencement on the evening of January 20, just six weeks before her examination. Therefore Mr. Parris's "several weeks" may have been five at least, during which he and his wife and their physician and friends probably studied symptoms, administered and watched the action of medicines, and cared for the children in every way, with as much freedom from delusion or bewildering excitement, as they could have done in any other equal portion of their lives. Such medical skill as then existed there, obviously had and used a very considerable period of time, not less than four or five weeks, in which to do its best, and yet was baffled. Its best was unavailing. We to-day perceive sufficient cause of its failure. It was contending against a special spirit infliction, the authors of which could either counteract, intensify, or nullify at their pleasure, the normal action of any common medicines or nursings. Parents, physician, and nurses no doubt witnessed from day to day such anomalous and changeful manifestations, sequent upon the administration of "physic," as confounded their judgments, and made them at last suspect "an evil hand." Tituba knew the cause of the illnesses, but probably lacked power to see and appreciate the continuous connection of that cause with the long series of its effects. Had she divulged her knowledge, what heed would have been given to the word of the ignorant slave? What beatings might she not well fear if she confessed to any dealings with invisible beings? No wonder that she kept her knowledge to herself, till fear of her master's cane influenced her to disclose the facts to the magistrates. Small as Tituba's mental capacities were, she had some unusual susceptibilities, which permitted, or rather obliged, her to possess more knowledge of the origin and progress, and also of the nature and of the active producer, of the distressing ailments and "amazing feats" in her master's family, than did master, mistress, physician, and magistrates combined. They saw--if it can be said that they saw at all--they saw only through thick, coarse, and blurred glasses, very dimly; while she, at times, clearly saw living actors face to face. From her we get the testimony of a witness who learned directly through her own senses what she stated; her testimony gives forth the ring of unflawed truth, and lifts a vail off from long-hidden mysteries. Hutchinson, Upham, and Drake each sought to make it apparent that mundane roguishness, trickery, and malice, operating amid public credulity and infatuation, prompted and enabled frail girls and women to produce the "amazing feats," marvelous convulsions, and all the many other woeful outworkings of witchcraft. Having been either unobservant of, or having ignored, the plain historic fact seen over and over again in Tituba's testimony, that certain other intelligences than girls, that minds which were freed more or less fully and permanently from the hamperings of flesh, actually started the first display of witchcraft pinchings, fits, and convulsions at Salem Village, those historians wrongfully charged girls and women, whose bodies were then the subjects and tools of other intelligences, with being the feigners of maladies and the producers of acts which an eye-witness and reluctant participator distinctly declares were manifested in obedience to a will or wills not their own. Such oversight, or such discarding of facts, whichever it may have been, caused those writers to so restrict their stores of intelligent agents having more or less access to and power over man, as to put outside of their own reach and vision the actual producers of witchcraft phenomena. This self-imposed or self-retained restriction forced upon them necessity for efforts to show that mere children possessed gigantic physical and mental powers and brains which concocted and executed schemes that shook to their very foundations the strong fabrics of church and state--yes, forced them to ascribe mighty public agitations to insignificant operators. Tituba, on the other hand, by a simple statement of what her own interior self saw, heard, felt, and did,--by a statement of what she actually _knew_,--designated the genuine and the obviously competent authors of witchcraft marvels, and explained their advent rationally. She, therefore, by far--very far--outranks each and all of those historians as a competent and authoritative expounder of the authorship, origin, and nature of Salem Witchcraft. Her "something like a man"--her _tall white-haired man in serge coat_--was its author. That man was a spirit, and his works were Spiritualism of some quality. Opposition revealed his possession of mighty force. And, whatever his motive, the result of his scheme was the death of witchcraft throughout Christendom, and consequent wide emancipation from mental slavery. Some statements made and published by Robert Calef not long subsequent to 1692, wear on their surface the semblance of impeachments, or at least of questionings of the value of Tituba's testimony. He says, "The first complained of was the said Indian woman named Tituba; she confessed _the devil_ urged her to sign a book, which he presented to her, and also to work mischief to the children," &c. We fail to find in Corwin's report anything like a _confession_ of any such things; she there states distinctly that _The Devil tells her nothing_, and also that the book was offered to her, and that the urgings to hurt the children were made to her by "something like a man"--by "_the man_." She had no idea that the devil was her visitant, and never confessed that he tempted her. Calef goes on and says, "She was afterward committed to prison, and lay there till sold for her fees. The account she since gives of it is, that her master did beat her and otherwise abuse her to make her confess and accuse (such as he called) her sister witches; and that whatsoever she said by way of confessing, or accusing others, was the effect of such usage." This is credible, and is probably true. Such proceedings on the part of Mr. Parris are not inconsistent with the character which he bears. Tituba's other master, the white-haired man, had charged her "to say nothing;" she perhaps, therefore, was in fact induced to utter "whatsoever she said by way of confessing or accusing others," by beatings she received from her visible master. But what did she say by way of confessing or accusing? Nothing, really. She merely stated facts known to her; and such statement should not be misnamed either confession or accusation. Corwin's record of that slave's testimony excites an apprehension--yes, generates belief--that Calef unconsciously made misleading statement when he wrote that "she _confessed_ the _devil_ urged her to sign a book." We have met with no indication that she ever made what should be called _confession_. We repeat, that she quite fully narrated that she had seen, held conversation with, and been forced to obey, a white-haired _man_, and also that the women Good and Osburn were at times her companion operators when the Man was present. That frank statement of facts constituted her only confession, so far as we perceive. Had this been made by an intelligent witness who comprehended how the public mind would interpret it, there might be plausible reason for saying that she or he "_confessed_." But with Tituba it was a simple statement of the truth. We suspect that Calef, under the prevalent habit of his day, unwittingly wrote _devil_ where Tituba, according to Corwin, said "the man." If he followed Cheever's report of the trial, he seemed to have authority for doing so. That Tituba regarded the devil and "the tall man" as two distinct individuals is very obvious. When questioned, she admitted that the devil _might_ hurt the children for aught she knew, but she had never seen _him_, nor had _he_ ever told her anything. She had no acquaintance with that personage. While the questions related to _his_ doings she could give no information; but as soon as opportunity was given her to introduce her "tall man" she was ready to speak of him freely and instructively. The people around her, not interiorly illumined, applied the name _devil_ to any disembodied intelligence that acted upon, or whose power became manifest to, their external senses; not so did either Tituba or any of her clairvoyant sister sufferers or sister _accusers_ either. Throughout the whole of her two days' rigid examination she persistently called her strange visitant "the man." And it is a significant fact that all the mediumistic ones then, both accusers and accused, escaped ever falling into the prevalent habit of accusing THE DEVIL. Other agents met their vision. Fear of Mr. Parris may have forced Tituba to tell her true tale, which but for him she might have withheld. But is there probability either that he dictated any part of her testimony, or that she fabricated anything? We see none. The fair and just presumption is, that though forced to speak, she simply described what she had seen, and narrated what she had experienced. The apparent promptness, directness, and general consistency of her answers, strongly favor that presumption. In her judgment, as in ours, what she said was no confession of familiarity with the devil, for she disclaimed any knowledge of him; and therefore she made no confession of witchcraft as then defined, and no accusation of it against the other women. Calef imputes to her a subsequent position which may be so construed as to indicate that she declined to stand by her previous statements. He says, "her master refused to pay her" jail "fees," and thus liberate her from prison, "unless she would stand to what she had said." In that quotation is involved all that we find in the older records which wears even a semblance of impeaching her testimony, or suggests any reason why we should distrust its intentional accuracy in any particular. The master did not pay the fees. She "lay in jail thirteen months, and was then sold to pay her prison charges." (Drake. Annals, 190.) But what did her master require her to "stand to"? Calef says he beat her "to make her confess, and accuse [such as he called] her sister witches; and that whatsoever she did by way of _confessing_ or _accusing_ others, was the effect of such usage." What she may have confessed to having done, or what she may have accused others of doing, at other times than when she was under examination, we do not know. Her statements then, as she then meant, and as we now understand them, fell far short of confessing familiarity with the devil, or of laying that crime to any others; therefore she neither made herself nor her companions _witches_. Still her master, no doubt, as did the recorder Ezekiel Cheever and the court, understood her as meaning _devil_ when she said "the man," though she herself did not so mean. Even Corwin, apparently, as judge, put the prevalent construction upon her words, though his fidelity as a recorder caused him to write "the man" when she said "the man." This general habit of understanding _devil_, when some other personage was both named and meant, enables us to see that there may have been subsequent dispute between her and her master as to her real meaning, and that he made it a condition for her liberation that she should put his construction upon what she had said, rather than her own. It is an open question whether she ever refused to stand by her own meaning, or the true meaning of her own words. Perhaps she did refuse to stand by construction which the faith and habit of the day led most minds to put upon her words unjustifiably; but we doubt whether she refused to stand by the literal and intended meaning of what she had said. Poor Tituba! Because of your forced connection with a scheme and works which entirely baffled your comprehension, because of your forced disclosure of things you had witnessed and experienced behind the vail of flesh, your own body was imprisoned thirteen months, and two innocent women were doomed to death. Guileless and innocent, so far as connected with witchcraft, you was borne on by mighty forces to seem to act voluntarily, though in fact unwillingly and perforce, a prominent part in one of the most fearful scenes in human history. Man's ignorance of spiritual agents and forces in your day, together with the prevalent hallucination devil-ward, made you a humble and pitiable martyr to simple truth-telling. Some seeds in your simple story now gathered from out the chaff that has covered them for nine-score years, may soon be scattered over New England soil, from which, we trust, you above, and men below, may gather wholesome fruits of justice and truth. SARAH GOOD. Tituba's sister witch, as that slave's master called Sarah Good, may not have been regarded in her generation as possessor of any large amount of such qualities as her name is commonly used to designate. Still her neighbors doomed her to lasting fame by selecting her as the first person to be put under examination on suspicion of being a producer of Salem witchcraft. As a facile tool in supernal hands she may have been, and probably was, good in quality as well as name. Indications that her spirit-form was susceptible of either easy elimination or wide radiations from its material counterpart, are contained in the facts that on January 20, 1692, the inner eye of Tituba saw this Sarah; on February 25, Ann Putnam, and on the 28th, Elizabeth Hubbard saw her apparition, or her spirit-form. Man's "natural" or physical optics do not discern a spirit. Spirit, when not materialized, is discernible only by our inner or spirit-eyes; spirit is "spiritually discerned." The spirit forms, however, of embodied, living men and women, are not all equally discernible by clairvoyants. Generally, only such among flesh-clad spirits are readily seen by inner optics as are able to slip, or are liable to be drawn, or to radiate out, from one's ordinary integuments of flesh, or, at least, those only whose integuments are transparent of spirit-light. Only few, relatively, can either see or be seen readily and frequently by spiritual eyes. Eagles exist as well as owls and bats. And clear perception of objects by the former amid light that blinds the latter, is no proof either that the vision of eagles is perverted, or that the objects they behold are but creatures of fancy. Mediumistic Sarah Good, because she was highly mediumistic, would naturally be a brilliant and attractive object in the field of vision which the inner eyes of other mediumistic ones might be able and attracted to survey. Distance is of little or no account in connection with vision by the inner eye. Persons and objects, scores and hundreds of miles away, are practically near to the inner optics. Spirit-forms are, perhaps, thought-forms, and, like thought, can traverse oceans and continents in the twinkling of an eye. It is not our purpose to multiply pages by largely quoting minute accounts of what transpired at the examinations and trials of those who were suspected of witchcraft; and yet it may be well to present rather fully one sample of the proceedings of the courts. This first case which the civil authorities gave attention to may serve that purpose as well as any other. The arrest of Sarah Good was made February 29, and on the next day, Tuesday, March 1, 1692, her examination was commenced, and was continued, in connection with that of Sarah Osburn and Tituba, through the remainder of that week. On Monday, the 7th, these three were sent to jail in Boston. On the 30th of June Mrs. Good was put upon trial, which resulted in her conviction, and on the 19th of July she, together with others, was executed. We copy first Ezekiel Cheever's account of her examination. Cheever was temporary clerk or scribe employed by the examining magistrates to take minutes of the testimony. "'Sarah Good, what evil spirit have you familiarity with?' _Ans._ 'None.' 'Have you made no contract with the devil?' Good answered, 'No.' 'Why do you hurt these children?' _Ans._ 'I do not hurt them. I scorn it.' 'Who do you employ, then, to do it?' _Ans._ 'I employ nobody.'" This question was doubtless based on belief then held, that one who was in covenant with the devil had, by the terms of the covenant, received power to command the devil and his imps to execute any desired mischief. "'What _creature_ do you employ, then?' _Ans._ 'No creature, but I am falsely accused.'" Her statement that she employed _nobody_, seems not to have covered all classes of possible servants in such business. Therefore she was asked what _creature_ she employed. This question suggests the probable supposition by the magistrate that such dogs, cats, birds, and hairy nondescripts as Tituba saw, might be subservient to the commands of a witch. "'Why did you go away muttering from Mr. Parris's house?' _Ans._ 'I did not mutter; but I thanked him for what he gave my child.' 'Have you made no contract with the devil?' _Ans._ 'No.'" The magistrate then "desired the children, all of them, to look upon her and see if this were the person that had hurt them; and so they all did look upon her, and said that this was one of the persons that did torment them. Presently they were all tormented." "'Sarah Good, do you not see now what you have done? Why do you not tell us the truth? Why do you thus torment these poor children?' _Ans._ 'I do not torment them.' 'Who do you employ, then?' _Ans._ 'I employ nobody. I scorn it.' 'How came they thus tormented?' _Ans._ 'What do I know? You bring others here, and now you charge me with it.' 'Why, who was it?' _Ans._ 'I do not know but it was some you brought into the meeting-house with you.' _Response._ 'We brought you into the meeting-house.' _Reply._ 'But you brought in two more.' 'Who was it, then, that tormented the children?' _Ans._ 'It was Osburn.' 'What is it you say when you go muttering away from persons' houses?' _Ans._ 'If I must tell, I will tell.' 'Do tell us then.' _Reply._ 'If I must tell, I will tell. It is the commandments. I may say my commandments, I hope.' 'What commandment is it?' _Ans._ 'If I must tell, I will. It is a psalm.' 'What psalm?' _Statement by reporter._ 'After a long time she muttered over some part of a psalm.' 'Who do you serve?' _Ans._ 'I serve God.' 'What God do you serve?' _Ans._ 'The God that made heaven and earth.'" _Comments by the reporter._ "She was not willing to mention the word God. Her answers were in a very wicked, spiteful manner, reflecting and retorting against the authority with base and abusing words, and many lies she was taken in. It was here said that her husband had said that he was afraid that she either was a witch or would be one very quickly. The worshipful Mr. Hathorne asked him his reason why he said so of her; whether he had seen anything _by_ her. He answered, no, _not in this nature_; but it was her bad carriage to him; and indeed, said he, I may say with tears that she is an enemy to all good." Reason for asking the children to look upon the accused, Cheever says, was, that they might "see if this was the person that hurt them." That statement fails to cover the whole ground. According to Cotton Mather, belief then prevailed that "when the party suspected looks on the parties supposed to be bewitched, and they are thereupon struck down into a fit ... it is a proof that the accused is a witch in covenant with the devil." In many subsequent examinations and trials, these magistrates required the accused to look upon the afflicted ones, and special note was taken of the apparent action of the supposed evil eye upon the sensitive children. Belief was held and acted upon by these examiners, that, if the accused were guilty, the guilt might be revealed by observable effects of emanations from the witch's eye upon those whom she had been bent upon tormenting. Possibly human experience and observation had gained knowledge of facts which furnished substantial foundation for such belief. The eye of the powerful mesmerist is very potent in action upon those whom he has been accustomed to subdue to his will. If the children quailed and suffered under the gaze of the accused, inference might be drawn that they had previously been brought into servitude by imperceptible forces proceeding from that person. Forces of that nature probably go forth more profusely from the eye than any other part of man, though that is not their only point of egress. Any part of the body may let them out. This fact, no doubt, was assumed of old by would-be witch detectors, for they often required the accused to touch their accusers, or the reverse. And generally the contact was attended by convulsions, spasms, pains, or other distress, or by cessation of annoyances. Such results are moderate evidence that forces pertaining to departed spirits were then operating upon the disturbed ones; for emanations from such source are frequently more agitating and agonizing, or more calming and pleasurable, than any that come forth from the simple mesmerizer. One reason for this augmented effect, as given through mediumistic lips, is, that the greater remove of properties of freed spirits from homogeneousness with those of flesh-robed ones, than exists between the properties of any two mortals, naturally causes either greater commotion or greater calmness when the disembodied ones effect contact with those robed in flesh, than ever occurs upon the confluence of streams exclusively mundane. It should be remembered that spirits, when in rapport with mortal forms, have power not only to will agonies and motions therein, but also to command and efficiently use appliances needful to produce them. Where Tituba's tall man with white hair was controller of performances, all such sufferings and antics as history describes may have occurred at trials for witchcraft, and yet few of them may have been willed to come forth by any mortal. Vailed from external perceptions, that powerful operator shaped the speech, the actions, and the sufferings of all the impressible ones, whether accused or accusers, at his sole pleasure. What his object and his motives were are not matters for consideration at this stage of our investigations. The examining magistrates, John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, subscribed to the following account of this examination. "Sarah Good upon examination denieth the matter of fact, viz., that she ever used any witchcraft, or hurt the above-said children, or any of them. "The above-named children, being all present, positively accused her of hurting them sundry times within this two months, and also this morning. "Sarah Good denied that she had been at their houses in the said time, or near them, or had done them any hurt. All the above-said children then present accused her face to face, upon which they were all tortured and tormented for a short space of time; and the afflictions and tortures being over, they charged said Sarah Good again that she had so tortured them, and _came to them_ and did it; although _she was then kept at a considerable distance from them_. "Sarah Good being then asked, if that _she_ did not hurt them, who did it? And the children being again tortured, she looked upon them and said that it was one of them we brought into the house with us. We asked her who it was. She then answered and said it was Sarah Osburn; and _Sarah Osburn was then under custody, and not in the house_. And the children, being quickly after recovered out of their fits, said that it was Sarah Good and also Sarah Osburn that then did hurt and torment or afflict them, although _both of them at the same time at a distance or remote from them personally_." The Italicized lines show that the magistrates attached importance to the children's statement that the two women had access to them and hurt them, even while the outer forms of the women were remote from the girls. Precisely how Hathorne and Corwin viewed such facts we do not know. Perhaps they deemed them strong evidence that the women were helped by the devil. The fact, if it be a fact,--and it probably is,--that those girls actually received painful sensations from forces coming to them from out the forms of those two women whose bodies were at the time distant from their own, was marvelous when it occurred, and remains so now to all such as are unacquainted with some instructive things which modern Spiritualism has been bringing into view. To entranced persons, to the spiritually illumined, to the clairvoyant, distance and material objects become nearly obliterated. Between such, also between spirits and such, when their inner powers are in the ascendant, mind acts directly upon mind, without aid from external senses and organs, and whatever then is done to the mind or spirit of the incarnated, whether it be painful or pleasing, reaches and affects the body of the earth-clad one from within, and thence works outwardly. All sensation pertains to the mind or spirit. The body, when life leaves it, at once becomes absolutely insensible. All hurts of the body, come whence and as they may, are felt by the spirit only--never by the body. Therefore when the spirit from within is pinched by a spirit directly, the hurt, though the physical body has not been touched from without, is felt precisely as it would be if fingers had nipped the flesh. One's bruised spirit acting outwardly may discolor portions of the body precisely as would an external pinch, grip, or blow. The accusing girls may have actually perceived and positively _known_ that pain-producing forces issuing from the forms of the accused women, were distorting and convulsing their own bodies and the bodies of other sensitive ones, while yet the women's wills may not have sent the forces forth; those accused ones may have been but the wearers of bodies, or possessors of God-bestowed organisms and temperaments through which either Tituba's tall man or some other spirit, or even some impersonal natural force, gained access to the spirits of the girls, and, through their spirits, caused their bodies to manifest signs of intense sufferings. Spiritualism is inviting physiologists and psychologists into new and interesting fields for exploration. The foregoing facts and views invite to very lenient judgments, whether pertaining to the accused women or to their youthful accusers. Many things during the examination of Sarah Good were culled from Tituba's statements, and used with design to show that Sarah Good was a witch. Tituba charged that woman with hurting the children, and of being one of five who urged her to do the same. Good rode on a pole with the latter to Mr. Putnam's, and then told the slave that she must kill somebody. She came and made Tituba deaf at prayers. She had a yellow bird which sucked her between her fingers; also she had a cat, and she appeared like a wolf to Hubbard. Tituba saw Good's name in the book, and the devil (no, the tall man), "told Good made her mark." Even her own little daughter, Dorothy Good, testified that her mother "had three birds, one black, one yellow, and that these birds hurt the children and afflicted persons." Deliverance Hobbs saw Good at the witch's sacrament. Abigail Hobbs was in company with, and made deaf by her, and knew her to be a witch. Mary Warren had the _book_ brought to her by Sarah Good. Elizabeth Hubbard, Mary Walcott, Ann Putnam, Mercy Lewis, Sarah Vibber, and Abigail Williams (all of them members of the necromantic _circle_), were afflicted by Sarah Good, and _saw her shape_. Richard Patch, William Allen, John Hughes, had her appear to them apparitionally. This long array of names of impressibles existing in the Village at so early a time as the very first attempt to find a witchcraft-worker there, indicates that Tituba's visitant had been an expert selector of a spot for operation. He began his work in the midst of abundant and fit materials with which to carry out a purpose to obtain close approach to, and to put forth startling action upon and among embodied mortals. It may be learned in the hereafter that he was suggester of the visible as well as of the invisible CIRCLE which met at the parsonage; and learned, also, that his forces magnetized the members of each. That so many mediumistic ones, a large proportion of them wonderfully facile and plastic, were hunted up in "the short space of two months," among the five hundred scattered inhabitants of that Village, is surprising. Only keen eyes and active search could have found thus many in so short a time. Germs of prophets must have been abundant there, and must have developed rapidly under the culture of the supernal gardener who discovered their abundance and quality, and took them under his special watch and care. While under examination, Sarah Good said, "None here see the witches but the afflicted and themselves;" that is, none but the afflicted and the accused; none but the clairvoyant. By witches she meant spirits and semblances of mortals and spirits; and she said in substance none others but we who behold with our internal eyes see the hovering and operating intelligences and forms. This unschooled woman then announced a great and instructive truth. She taught that the two classes--the tortured accusers and the accused both--possessed powers of vision which other people did not; that they possessed such clairvoyance and other fitful capabilities and susceptibilities as pertained to only a quite limited number of persons, and that these physical peculiarities were the source of the existing mysteries. It should be ever borne in mind that the powers which Mrs. Good had reference to are generally very fitful in their operations. Those who sometimes see spirits and spirit scenes are seldom able to do it at will, or with any very long continuance without interruption. The most of them might, every few minutes, say with Tituba, "I am blind now, I cannot see." Having stated that the accusers and accused, and only they and others constituted like them, could see the hidden persons and forces which were there acting, acted upon, or being employed in putting forth mysterious inflictions upon the distressed girls, Sarah Good forthwith charged her fellow-prisoner, Sarah Osburn, with then "hurting the children." The fair inference is, that she saw the spirit or the apparition of her companion then seemingly at work upon the sufferers; and Mrs. Good may only have described what her inner optics were then beholding. Virtually she was confessing that she was herself clairvoyant, and consequently very near kin to a witch, if not actually one in that dreaded sisterhood. But clairvoyance pertained to the accusers also, and both sets of clear seers, if their powers were a crime, deserved like treatment. "Looking upon them" (the afflicted children) "at the same time and not being afflicted, must consequently be a witch." The above is from the records of her examination. Apparently she was looking upon the children while alleging that the then absent Sarah Osburn was there present and was occasioning their sufferings, while yet Mrs. Good was not herself afflicted; this was deemed proof that she was a witch. What unstated premises led to that conclusion we do not know. Our fathers had many notions pertaining to witchcraft that are now buried in oblivion, and it is often very difficult to find the reasons for their inferences. We are baffled here, and can say only that indication is furnished that under some circumstances a woman's failure to become bewitched was proof that she was herself a witch--because she did not catch a special disease, she must already be having it. Constable Braybrook, who had charge of her during the night between the first two days of her examination, deposed that he set three men as a guard to watch her at his own house; and that in the morning the guard informed him that "during the night Sarah Good was gone some time from them, both barefoot and barelegged." From another source he learned that on "that same night, Elizabeth Hubbard, one of the afflicted persons, complained that Sarah Good came and afflicted her, being barefoot and barelegged, and Samuel Sibley, that was one that was attending (courting) of Elizabeth Hubbard, struck Sarah Good on the arm, as Elizabeth Hubbard said."--_Woodward's Historical Series_, No. I, p. 27. Braybrook's statement presents a side incident at a time when none of the performers who had been trained in the historian's famous high school for girls were present--an incident which rivals in marvelousness anything in the main tragedy they are charged with enacting. When the tricksy girls were all absent, when men alone stood guard over and were with this prisoner, she became invisible by them. No one of the magic-working band of girls and women was then at hand. Testimony that she disappeared is distinct; the guards reported in the morning that "she was gone some time from them." The constable so stated, and the statement was supported by two assistant guards, Michael Dunnell, and Jonathan Baker. We shall not stop to ask them how they knew that she was "barefoot and barelegged" when she was invisible. They perhaps saw her stockings and shoes when she was not to be seen. Also she was without such garments when seen that night by Elizabeth Hubbard and her lover in that girl's distant home. An intelligent, sagacious, and reliable man, Dr. H. B. Storer, of Boston, whom we know and have long known personally, and whom we respect as being distinctly high-minded, honorable, and adherent to facts and truths, gave, in the Banner of Light, January 9, 1875, an instructive account of his recent observations at the residence of Mrs. Compton, a medium, at Havana, N. Y. We extract the following from his statements. He says that on Monday morning, December 28, 1874,-- "By my request, Mrs. Compton acquiescing without a murmur, my lady friends, entering her bedroom, saw her completely divested of clothing, with the exception of two under garments, and then had her draw on a pair of her husband's pantaloons. The basque of her alpaca dress, without the skirt, was then put on, after careful search to render it certain that no extra clothing could be secreted. Then, in my presence, the basque was sewed by its points on each side to the pantaloons, and a ribbon, which I tied with two knots closely around her neck, was sewed through the knots, and each end of the ribbon sewed to the collar of the basque. So she had on a closely-fitting coat and pantaloons sewed together, and so attached by a ribbon around the neck that the clothing could not be drawn up or down. A pair of black gloves were then drawn upon the hands and sewed tightly around the wrists. I then put around her waist a piece of cotton twine, tying it in two hard knots behind, and the same piece of twine was tied by double knots to the back of the chair in which she sat." On Saturday Dr. Storer had seen come forth from the cabinet, as Dr. F. L. H. Willis also had on a former occasion, "a weird phantom, bearing the semblance of a woman, and clothed in a flowing costume of white. Over her head was thrown a vail of delicate texture, and in one hand she carried a handkerchief that looked like a bit of a fleecy cloud. Her dress was exceedingly white and lustrous, without a wrinkle or a fold in it." That description by Willis is called by Storer "perfect," and is adopted by him. This "weird" personage was called Katie. Dr. Storer, after fixing the medium in the cabinet on Monday, as above described, says,-- "Very slowly the door [of the cabinet] opened, and soon her [Katie's] entire form was seen dressed exactly as before--trailing skirts, vail, and mantle, but with a belt which she gathered in her hands and rubbed together that we might hear its silken rustle. Standing by the door, she addressed me, saying that when she had walked entirely away from the cabinet, she wished me to go in quickly, and, without moving the chair, feel after the medium, and all about the cabinet, and see if I could find her. She stepped out about five feet into the room, and at once I sprang into the cabinet, felt in the chair, swept the floor and walls thoroughly with my hands--but--not _a vestige of medium_ or _anything_ remained." The italicizing is ours. We design to imitate the doctor in both frankness and wisdom--to restate and accept his facts--but make no attempt at explanation of them. We adduce the case because it parallels in marvelousness the statements of Braybrook. What happens now may have had its like before to-day. The modern case out-marvels, perhaps, the ancient one; for we know not whether the guards felt for their prisoner or only failed to see her. How they ascertained that she was gone is not told. Dr. Storer felt the chair into which he had bound Mrs. Compton, felt the floor and the ceiling all over, and could find nobody in the little cabinet, which was but a triangle partitioned off at the corner of the room, whose inner sides were only five feet each in length, so that a man, without changing his position, might touch any part of it, unless the ceiling overhead was above the man's reach. Shortly afterward, says Dr. Storer, "the cabinet door was opened, and in the chair, tied as we had left her, without the breaking of a thread, or the apparent movement of her person, or in any respect differing from her appearance when last seen, sat the medium, in that fearfully lifeless trance, from which nearly a half hour was required to arouse her. I will not give any speculations of my own upon this most marvelous exhibition. I submit the facts and vouch for their entire accuracy." Were Braybrook's statements true as to the main fact? They may have been. If they were, we do not apprehend that the physical body of Sarah Good was either removed from the vicinity of her guards, or seen by Elizabeth Hubbard that night. Invisibility may have been wrapped around her body, and yet not around her shoes and stockings; perhaps her spirit-form was the only one seen by the distant observer. We hesitate to fix limits to possibilities. Spirits to-day frequently manage, as they say, and as results indicate, to render particular material objects lying within the embrace of auras or emanations of some mediums, invisible temporarily by the keenest of keen external eyes, even when such eyes are surrounded by light sufficient for seeing other objects in the vicinity with distinctness. That which is done now may have been done formerly. And since such phenomena now seldom occur excepting in the near vicinity of persons susceptible to spirit influences, the fair conclusion is, that Sarah Good was a medium. Elizabeth Hubbard saw the spirit-form of Sarah Good; which fact argues that Elizabeth was a clairvoyant, unless Sarah Good's spirit was then materialized. Each and every one of the afflicted girls is so repeatedly reported to have described perception of what external sight could not see, external ear hear, nor external touch feel, that the mediumistic susceptibilities of each and all of them are manifest. The susceptibilities and endowments of both accusers and accused were exceptional and yet alike in kind. The spiritual perceptive faculties and the receptive capabilities of both classes could be brought into such action as would out-work results perceptible by the external senses of common people. Also, and especially, each class could be made to serve as _mere tools_ of invisible beings. As such they were handled, their users employing them severally as afflictor or as afflicted, at their pleasure, within the permissions of psychological laws. The choice, which selected certain ones to be implements by which to afflict, and others to be the subjects of afflictions, was made by dwellers in spirit spheres, familiar with psychological laws, and competent to determine in which capacity each impressible one could be most serviceable in advancing the ends of the supernal operators. Such a view, when its correctness shall have been confirmed, will work out vast amelioration in the world's judgment of that band of girls and women in Salem Village who have long borne its scorn and detestation, and will thrill every kindly heart with joy. When it shall become apparent that some inborn physical peculiarities involved the controlling reasons why certain persons rather than others were charged with being Satan's devotees, then none can fail to see that it was not roguery, not artifice, not malice, not grudges, not family or neighborhood or parochial quarrels, not disputes about property, nor any social, moral, or religious eminence or debasement,--no, not any one of those base motives of the normal intellect and heart which lively fancy has pleased itself with conjuring up and imputing,--no, it was not any one of those reprehensible and damning motives, but was innate susceptibility of being easily controlled by psychological forces; especially it was a constitutional liability to be more readily seen, heard, and felt by persons similarly endowed than was the great mass of people around them. Ann Putnam, Jr., the keen-sighted pioneer of the clairvoyant witch-detectors, saw the apparition, and felt the distressing influences of Sarah Good, on the 25th of February. Her depositions were numerous; there were but few of the accused whose apparitions had not met her vision, but few who had not harmed her in ways and by forces unperceived by external senses. The character and general purport of her testimony, and also of most of the testimony from members of THE CIRCLE, is well presented by the first deposition we find on record; which is as follows:-- "The deposition of Ann Putnam, Jr., who testifieth and saith, that on the 25th of February, 1691-92, I saw the apparition of Sarah Good, which did torture me most grievously; but I did not know her name till the 27th of February, and then she told me her name was Sarah Good. And then she did pinch me most grievously; and also since; several times urging me vehemently to write in her book. And also on the 1st of March, being the day of her examination, Sarah Good did most grievously torture me; and also several times since. And also on the first day of March, 1692, I saw the apparition of Sarah Good go and afflict and torture the bodies of Elizabeth Parris, Abigail Williams, and Elizabeth Hubbard. Also I have seen the apparition of Sarah Good afflicting the body of Sarah Vibber. mark "ANN PUTNAM." + That deposition furnishes a fair specimen of the kind of evidence sought for, admitted, and applied to prove probable compact with the devil. All of the above pertains to the first examination made at Salem, and it reveals the opinions then prevalent relating to covenantings with the Evil One, to powers and dispositions thence derived, and to then existing legal methods for proving such compacts. There is little indication that experiences at Salem, during the spring and summer of 1692, gave either the examining magistrates, or the court, much, if any, new light or any increase of wisdom or humaneness. Whatever modification of processes of procedure subsequently took place, and whatever change of decisions as to the value and admissibility of spectral evidence occurred, was for the worse rather than the better. The creeds and laws conformed to then were not formed and adopted for that occasion, but had prior existence, and were here applied with strenuous vigor by firm hearts and clear heads. Amid all the excitement, frenzy, infatuation, delusion, and credulity then abounding, logic retained its power and guidance, and held courts and juries to the requirements of the wholesome statutes of the English Parliament, pertaining to witchcraft and to Christendom's witchcraft creed. Old laws and faiths were here tested by strong men. They held for a time, and wrought woeful effects, but finally were broken. Sarah Good was wife of an inefficient husband, "William Good, laborer." The family was very poor, having at times no home excepting such as charity granted them temporarily. She is spoken of by Calef as having "long been accounted a melancholy or distracted woman." Upham says that "she was a forlorn, friendless, and forsaken creature, broken down by wretchedness of condition and ill repute." We find no reason for dissenting from that writer's statement when he says elsewhere, that "she was an unfortunate and miserable woman _in her circumstances and condition_;" but we doubt the fitness of calling her "forlorn" and "broken down." She may have been so; but the spirit and energy generally manifested by her words and acts indicate the probability that she was rather a heedless, bold woman, free and harsh in the use of her tongue, and not very sensitive to or regardful of public opinion, but yet strong and not despondent. That she may have long been deemed, as Calef says she was, a "distracted" woman, is very probable, for many simply mediumistic persons, and even more of us who at this day solely because we believe in the advent of spirits, both good and less good, have long been accounted _crazy_. We have met with no indication that she was physically weak or mentally despondent. She seems to have borne up well under long, tedious horseback rides daily to and from Ipswich jail, nine or ten miles distant, whither she was nightly sent ever after the time of her becoming invisible to her guards. Her keeper on the way says, "she leaped off her horse three times, railed at the magistrates, and endeavored to kill herself." That attempt, if she made one, to take her own life, was scarcely less likely to spring from the angry mental mood then prompting her to rail against the magistrates, than from despondency or forlornness. When under examination, her answers were about as direct, explicit, and to the point, as most other suspected ones were able to give to the perplexing questions which were put; and some of hers have more snap than we usually find in words from lips of the "forlorn and broken down." It is not probable that her previous life had won much public favor; yet no evidence has been met with that her neighbors generally cherished hostile feelings towards her, or possessed sentiments which would prompt them to rejoice at her prosecution. We, as has already been made apparent, ascribe her arrest to other causes than the lowness of her character and condition. That was not the primal incentive to her being "cried out upon." Her organization, and the then existing condition of her faculties, made her either a convenient channel through which to transmit, or a fountain from which to draw, forces into the systems of certain other sensitives, which forces might act therein for either the annoyance and suffering, or the pleasure and relief of the recipients, according to either inherent properties of the forces themselves, or to the purpose of some intelligence who should inflow and manipulate them. The sensitive girls might, and, if well unfolded mediumistically, would unerringly trace back such forces as acted upon themselves to their mundane point of emanation, and in good conscience and good faith accuse the person from whom the forces issued of being their tormentor; if clairvoyant they could see, if clairaudient could hear, and, if not specially unfolded for seeing with the inner eye and hearing with the inner ear, could _sense_ the person from whom the foreign and disturbing influences came forth. A bold spirit and prophetic glance pertained to this woman at the close of her mortal life. When near the gallows, and about to be executed, Mr. Noyes, the clergyman at Salem proper, told her "she was a witch, and she knew that she was a witch." She promptly retorted, "You are a liar. I am no more a witch than you are a wizard; and if you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink." Subsequently that man "died of an internal hemorage, bleading profusely at the mouth." (_Hist. of Witchcraft_, vol. ii. p. 270.) Gleamings of what will be often meet internal or mediumistic eyes; and such probably did those of Sarah Good at that instant, and authorized her prophetic utterance. DORCAS GOOD has already been presented in the reports of evidence against her mother; but in those she was called Dorothy, and was reported as testifying that her mother "had three birds, one black, one yellow, and that these birds hurt the children, and afflicted persons." Such testimony, of course, supported the side of the accusers. The little one's words were damaging to her mother, and helpful to the mother's oppressors. But, from some cause, she soon fell under suspicion of belonging to the class of bewitchers. As early as March 3, Ann Putnam saw the apparition of this child; and on the 21st of March, Mary Walcott did the same. This, of course, was regarded as evidence that she was a witch; and on or near March 23d she was arrested, examined, and soon after sent to jail. Yes, little Dorcas, daughter of mediumistic Sarah Good, not five years old, "looking well and hale as other children," was definitely, in legal form, accused of witchcraft; was arrested, and brought before the civil magistrates for examination. In presence of the magistrates the exhibiting graduates from the school of "necromancy, magic, and spiritualism"--the afflicted girls--accused the little child of biting them then and there, and "also of pricking them with pins, with pinching and almost choking them." In proof of all this they exhibited marks upon their flesh, just such in size and form as matched her little teeth Also pins were found under their clothing precisely where they asserted that she pricked them. Such facts as imprints upon the arms of the girls, corresponding precisely with such as the child's teeth might make, and the invisible pinchings, prickings, &c., are not outside of nature's permissions, and therefore were not impossible. Those girls, at their circle meetings, _or elsewhere_, had obviously become very facile instruments in spiritualism, had become usable by spirits as subjects for impressions, and psychologically induced sensations. From the mediumistic little daughter of a mediumistic mother, forms and forces could be made to emanate which might act upon the plastic mediumistic sufferers in exact accordance with such experiences, and producing such results as the girls described or others witnessed. The senses of the annoyed ones could distinctly perceive that the agonizing forces issued from that little girl. The accusers probably stated only facts which they knew as well as any witness ever knew his facts when describing what his own senses had brought him knowledge of. Whether things seen and felt by the spirit senses be deemed objective or only subjective, they are alike real to the consciousness of the person that takes cognizance of them. The statements of the girls were probably true. The possibilities in heaven and earth, and along where their border-lines come in contact, are not recognized by some historians. There are some persons at this day who hold even as contracting and misleading philosophies, as Cotton Mather and the men of his generation did. Modern wisdom (?) prompts some to discredit any actual occurrence of any extra-marvelous facts--any facts _seeming_ more than natural--and to impeach the accuracy or the truthfulness of any and all who attest to such, rather than admit that the bases of their own philosophies can be improved by expansion. Such persons, when attempting to account for many facts in human history, are, though it may be unconsciously to themselves, like mill-horses tethered to an unchanging center, and made to move within a fixed circumference. Habit soon brings loss of desire, if not of courage, to turn the eyes outward and look upon facts whose producers work from outside the beaten rounds in which some theorists travel. This makes it bad for many facts, such facts as are popping into view through avenues deemed anomalous. There are writers who do their best to enforce upon such facts the Mosaic command, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." But facts are immortal; buried ones often reappear, and demonstrate their own former occurrence. Two centuries ago, the claim of great marvels to be objective facts was generally conceded. But at that time the hidden workers of wonders were woefully slandered as to parentage: men deemed them _all_ to be both imps of the malignant ruler of the darkest regions of realms unseen, and his emissaries from pandemonium to the abodes of man. Faith in the genuineness of witchcraft facts, though in Dorcas Good's day it hid a multitude of sins, failed to make the arresting of a mere infant witch a desirable operation. For some reason the officious marshal, Herrick, sent forth constable Braybrook to encounter and capture man's great enemy when that wily one had ensconced himself in an infant's form. But the deputy scavengered up and sub-deputized somebody else to fight that battle for God and Christ. His menial went the needful two or three miles north through the woods to Benjamin Putnam's house, and executed the daring feat of bringing on his back, or in some other way, a "hale and well-looking" girl of less than five years into court, a culprit because of co-laboring with and being a covenanted servant of witchcraft's devil! The darkness of delusion which such an arrest failed to illumine must have been thick indeed! But the creed of the day, devil-ward, the creed of the fathers, the creed of Christendom, so deluded the public judgment that it demanded the blood of a witch even though she were an infant. The condition of the public mind only a very short time subsequent to the irrational, unkindly, barbarous arrest of that child has been depicted by Upham, vol. ii. p. 112, in sentences more graphic, spirited, and eloquent than our own powers could possibly put forth, and differing considerably from what we would essay to give were our rhetorical abilities equal to his. He states that-- "The proceedings of the 11th and 12th of April produced a great effect in driving on the general infatuation.... 'Twas awful to see how the afflicted persons were agitated.... Those girls, by long practice in 'the circle,' and day by day before the astonished and wondering neighbors gathered to witness their distresses, and especially on the more public occasions of the examinations, had acquired consummate boldness and tact. In simulations of passions, sufferings, and physical affections; in sleight of hand, and the management of voice and feature and attitude, no necromancers have surpassed them. There has seldom been better acting in a theater than they displayed in the presence of the astonished and horror-stricken rulers, magistrates, ministers, judges, jurors, spectators, and prisoners. No one seems to have dreamed that their actings and sufferings could have been the result of cunning or imposture. Deodat Lawson was a man of talents, had seen much of the world, and was by no means a simpleton, recluse, or novice; but he was totally deluded by them. The prisoners, although conscious of their own innocence, were utterly confounded by the acting of the girls. The austere principles of that generation forbade with the utmost severity all theatrical shows and performances; but at Salem village and the old town, in the respective meeting-houses, and at Deacon Nathaniel Ingersoll's, some of the best playing ever got up in this country was practiced, and patronized for weeks and months at the very centre and heart of Puritanism, by 'the most straitest sect' of that solemn order of men. Pastors, deacons, church-members, doctors of divinity, college professors, officers of state, crowded, day after day, to behold feats which have never been surpassed on the boards of any theater; which rivaled the most memorable achievements of pantomimists, thaumaturgists, and stage-players, and made considerable approaches toward the best performances of ancient sorcerers and magicians, or modern jugglers and mesmerizers." The brilliancy, fervor, and literary finish of that description of the public enthusiasm and bewilderment are truly worthy of admiration, while the picture is not, and probably could not be, overwrought. Still we must doubt the competency of the alleged authors of the excitement to perform the bewildering and frenzying acts ascribed to them. We have heard from of old, and could quasi believe, that mountains in labor brought forth mice. But it is only rarely one has earnestly and fervently sought and striven to entice the reading public to admit conviction that a dozen _enceinte_ mice could enwomb and give birth to a vast and terrific volcano. One must needs look in wondering astonishment upon that keenness of vision which, at the middle of the nineteenth century, penetrating through mold and debris which have, through a century and three fourths, been gathering over momentous events, sees clearly that they were the genuine offspring of youthful "cunning and imposture," even while the owner of such vision himself perceived that neither the learned, talented, and keen Deodat Lawson, nor any other one of all the many able and sagacious men who were lookers-on at the amazing feats while they were transpiring, _dreamed_ that the actings and sufferings could have been the results of cunning and imposture. The day of Lawson and his companion observers was too near the facts for any dreams about them. It required a peculiarly plastic modern brain, and the intervening lapse of eightscore years, for the generation and birth of such a _dream_. The reason of its non-appearance in 1692 is very plain. Known facts then left no vacancy in the brains of that day for storage of the fictions of dreamland. We return to little Dorcas Good. The creed devil-ward had hoodwinked all eyes. All things were in a terrific and bewildering whirl. Calm reflection and deliberate reasoning upon anything new were impossible. If perchance a mind asked itself whether an infant was competent to bargain with the devil and thence become a witch, it had no time to respond to its own inquiry. In open court, mysterious bitings were perpetrated by the teeth of this little girl, because the marks fitted her set and none other. The marks were made by the accused girl's teeth. Ocular demonstration, therefore, was proving her to be the devil's instrument; for otherwise she could not invisibly bite, nor could her teeth be made to bite, those who were off beyond her reach. Standing upon what we said in the last chapter relating to the passing of hurts through the spirit to its outer body, we hold that spirits may have so applied the spirit teeth of little Dorcas to the spirit limbs of the afflicted girls, as to have left the marks of her teeth upon their flesh. Woefully did the creed of that time not only permit, but call for the arrest of that infantile girl, solely because, under the operation of natural laws of generation, she inherited properties or capabilities which rendered her, from the time when she was conceived, ever onward, very susceptible to psychological influences. The judges, observing what were but legitimate and necessary outworkings of her inborn properties, being ignorant of their true source and nature, deemed them such a crime that the court sent her to Boston jail a prisoner, there to keep company with the mother from whom her peculiar properties had been derived, by whose milk they had been nourished, and in whose magnetisms they had unfolded. The present century is learning facts which teach that inborn properties and susceptibilities, and not compacts with the devil, constitute _witches_--some of whom are very lovely. An infantile witch is no great marvel now. Such can be found in many a family, "through whose lips angels speak" to-day, as they did through Emanuel Swedenborg's when but a child, and who, born in January, 1688, was precisely a contemporary of Dorcas Good. SARAH OSBURN was companion prisoner of Sarah Good and Tituba on the memorable first week in March, 1692. Thirty years before, she had been married to Thomas Prince, and at the time of her arrest was wife of Alexander Osburn; consequently she was well advanced in years. She also had long been an invalid, confined during long periods to her bed. Her worldly circumstances were comfortable--she and her family were neither poor nor rich--were neither very low nor very high on the social scale. _But she had heard words coming forth from unseen lips._ And on February 25, her apparition appeared to and annoyed Ann Putnam. Nothing has been noticed in the records which indicates that Ann ever spoke of any perceptions by her inner senses prior to that date, or that any member of the circle, excepting Tituba, preceded Ann in having opened vision. The latter saw "the tall man, with white hair and serge coat," as early as January 15. But Tituba's voice, had she have spoken, would have been powerless. Ann's position in society was high; she belonged to a family of wealth, culture, influence, and high respectability. Her mystical words were potent. In four days subsequent to her first reported vision of apparitions, three women were under arrest for witchcraft, and Ann's father was one of the very efficient advocates of prosecutions for that crime. Feeble, "bed-ridden" Sarah Osburn, of whom Upham speaks as one whose "broken and disordered mind was essentially truthful and innocent," and whose residence was at least a mile and a half north from Mr. Parris's home, and quite distant east from Ann's, on a road not likely to be often traveled by her, was among the marked and blasted three. Why? None now, perhaps, can tell with certainty. Probabilities alone can be adduced. Our supposition is, that at the moment when Ann's keen and far-sweeping inner sight was opened, and spirit substance, instead of material light, became her medium of vision, the most brilliant objects to meet her gaze, in all the region far around, would be one or more of the mediumistically unfolded persons dwelling there. From those among that class whose systems were fountains of emanations which at the time impinged upon her sensibilities, and did not harmoniously coalesce with her elements, and therefore acted as quasi acids upon her alkalies, or as alkalies upon her acids, produced painful effervescences which might ensue naturally, apart from the aid of any manipulating intelligence; or, if some intelligent being were observant of the currents and conditions of spirit magnetisms or forces then, and disposed to either intensify, abate, or modify their natural action, he might do so, and also could manipulate them to furtherance of his own ends, whether beneficent or malignant. Then and there, even high benevolence in one whose vision swept the far future, might take such primal steps as short-sighted mortals must look upon as necessarily altogether harmful in both immediate and remote results. Such natural laws as reign supreme in spirit-realms may have led to the selection of secluded, inoffensive, "essentially truthful, and innocent" Sarah Osburn, as one of the tormentors of the girls, who were either schooled in magic by their own elected study and practice of it, or were constitutionally fitted for fitful enfranchisement of their inner perceptive organs while yet dwellers in their mortal forms, and whose bodies could become tools for other minds to use. If she was simply the voluntary actor out of her own "cunning or imposture," little Ann Putnam, twelve years old, brightest among the bright, and member of one of the most intelligent and religious families of the Village, she also must have been herself a _devil_, and so devilishly a devil, that even Cloven-foot might feel it a duty to pass his scepter into her hands. But grant that she was a medium through whose form other minds and wills could act, as she in fact was, and then we can regard her physical form as simply an instrument through which an intelligence other than herself manifested action to human senses; and thus we can deem _her_ guiltless, whatever shall be our judgment of the intruding performer upon her "harp of a thousand strings." Parts of the testimony in the case of Mrs. Osburn reveal her possession of mediumistic susceptibilities. As with Joan of Arc and many others, so with this woman; the inner ear could hear voices from some source impalpable by external senses. "(It was said by some in the meeting-house that she had said that she would never be tied to that lying spirit any more.) "_Q._ 'What lying spirit is this? Hath the devil ever deceived you and been false to you?' "_A._ 'I do not know the _devil_. I never did see him.' "_Q._ 'What lying spirit was it, then?' "_A._ 'It was a _voice_ that I thought I heard.' "_Q._ 'What did it propound to you?' "_A_. 'That I should go no more to meeting. But I said I would; and did go the next Sabbath day.'"--_Woodward's Hist. Series_, No. I. p. 37. Although the timid prisoner said only that she _thought_ she heard a voice, the reader will notice that she made no denial that she had previously said "that she would never be tied to that _lying spirit_ any more;" therefore by fair implication she conceded that she had once, if not many times, heard a voice which she had openly spoken of as having been that of a _lying spirit_; and also that she had more or less been instructed by and followed his, her, or its advice. The fact that she was enjoined not to go to meeting any more, argues nothing either against the spiritual source of the advice, or the good intent of whoever gave it. She had long been a sickly, bed-ridden woman; therefore such advice might have been given by any wise Christian physician. We are not concerned with either the moral or religious states of invisible actors and speakers, but are looking specially for some of the more distinct evidences that invisible intelligences of some quality enacted Salem witchcraft, and, therefore, looking for the peculiar properties of both the embodied persons through and those upon whom they directly acted. Sarah Osburn, though a secluded, respectable, inoffensive woman well advanced in years, was an early victim before the sweeping blast that rushed over the Village. Too feeble to endure the hardship of prison life, she died in jail before the day for her trial. She who heard voices from out the realm of silence, possessed inner faculties in fit condition to permit effluxes that reached and annoyed the mediumistic children, who traced them back to her, and made statements which brought her under suspicion of being a covenanter with the devil. Such capabilities constituted her crime--her witchcraft--and incited a devil-fighting people to persecution which hastened her exit to the realm from which the advisory voices had come upon her ears. MARTHA COREY. Soon after the commencement of prosecutions, suspicion alighted on one of more refinement, intelligence, efficiency, godliness, and respectability than the females first arrested. Martha, wife of Giles Corey,--aged, prayerful, but bright; disbelieving in any witchcraft; doubting the existence of any witches; discountenancing searches for any,--said that the eyes of the magistrates were blinded, and that she could open them. She possessed spiritual and theological knowledge uncommon in her day and vicinity, and must have held beliefs and convictions derived from other sources than those at which her neighbors obtained their supplies. She was aloof from the prevalent delusion devil-ward. Though a church member, a woman of prayer, of reputed, and doubtless of genuine, piety, Martha Corey was very early _sensed_ by the Anns Putnam, mother and daughter, as the source of emanations which tortured them. Therefore she must be a witch. Grounds for such conclusion were not necessarily fanciful and fallacious. When and where natural outworkings from mediumistic properties and conditions were mistaken for symptoms of witchcraft, Martha Corey might easily be convicted of diabolism. We credit the allegation of Ann Putnam the younger that she was annoyed and afflicted by Mrs. Corey even while the two were miles apart. But we decline to admit that Mrs. Corey necessarily or probably had any voluntary connection with the girl's sufferings. Either unintelligent natural forces attracted the woman's effluvia to Ann, or else Tituba's "tall man," or some other hidden intelligent being, formed connections and applied processes which brought elements of these two persons into conjunction, and thus produced in the girl intense physical disturbances and sufferings, and attendant liberation of her inner perceptive faculties. Ann's uncle, Edward Putnam, together with Ezekiel Cheever, because of the girl's repeated outcries upon Mrs. Corey, only just one week after the sending of Tituba, Sarah Good, and Sarah Osburn to jail, concluded to make a call upon sister Corey, who was "in church covenant" with them, and learn from her own lips what she would say relative to the suspicions that had been raised concerning her. These just and considerate men,--for they were such,--probably seeing the possibility that the child might be mistaken as to the person who was causing her to suffer, very properly called upon Ann when they were about to start on their way to the woman's residence, and asked the suffering girl to describe the dress Mrs. Corey was then wearing. Their obvious design was to test the accuracy of the child's perceptions. But that purpose was not accomplished. The child pleaded inability to see, and stated that blindness was put upon her just then _by the accused woman herself_. The sequel indicates that Mrs. Corey foresensed the visit she was about to receive, imbibed knowledge of the intended test, and of action to thwart its success. Though dwelling and being miles apart as physical persons, those two females may have then been practically together as spirits, and have mutually sensed the thoughts, acts, and conditions of each other as far as each avoided intentional concealment. All of Ann's statements may have been in strict accordance with facts actually witnessed and experienced by her inner self. There is no need to assume that she feigned or falsified at all, even if no invisible personal operators were concerned in what then transpired; and certainly not, if Tituba's "tall man" and his associates were then present and acting, as they may have been. Perhaps invisible actors, holding both of these impressible subjects under psychological control, either imparted to, or withheld from either of them, just such knowledge and perceptions as would further the purposes of the operators--which may have been either simply a manifestation of their own powers, or an intimation to the adroit men that they were undertaking to deal with something which it would not be easy to outwit or thwart. Also other and very different purposes may have actuated them. Some spirits, at some times, have ability, through some mortal lips, to express their thoughts to the embodied, and to wreathe their own emotions over faces they borrow, even while the spirit, the selfhood, of the mortal form usurped is conscious of what is being done through it. Remember that the form of the conscious Agassiz was, against his own will, made to obey Townshend's mind. Perhaps Madam Corey's expressions of thoughts and emotions were sometimes prompted, and at other times modified by an unseen intelligence temporarily cohabiting with her own. When the two brethren of the church, going forth on their solemn, self-imposed mission, had arrived at her home, Madam Corey welcomed them _with a smile_; notwithstanding she possessed and expressed very exact knowledge of the ominous nature and the purpose of their call. Her saluting words were, "I know what you are come for. You are come to talk with me about being a witch; but I am none. I cannot help other people's talking of me." This probably had reference to Ann Putnam's saying that she was afflicted by this speaker. She soon asked the men whether Ann, whose accusations had prompted their call, "had described the clothes she then wore." Learning that her dress had not been described, "a smile came over her face." Somebody's consciousness of power, issuing from her form, to obscure the child's vision, probably expressed itself in that smile; and the reflection that the child was operated upon by forces within or action through Mrs. Corey's own form, and therefore not necessarily by the devil, and inference thence that the girl was not necessarily bewitched, was followed by her saying, "she did not think there were any witches." She knew enough of spiritual things to enable her to observe the broad distinction, overlooked by her cotemporaries, that may exist between some spirits and the devil; and also between persons whose inner senses were cognizant of spirit presence and action as naturally as the outer eye was of the sunlight, between these and such other human beings, could there be any such, and she thought there could not, who made a covenant with the devil, which covenant was a necessary preliminary to being a witch. "She," very reasonably, "did not think there were any" such "witches;" and only _such_ were sought for by her visitors and the startled public. This woman was intelligent, courteous, and devout--was capable of understanding that _witch_, as then defined, necessarily meant a person who had voluntarily entered into a distinct compact with a factitious devil. Her _sensings_ in spirit spheres found no native-born monstrosity there, and she could say in good conscience that she did not believe there existed any such witches as her visitors and fellow church members were on the hunt for. At the same time she may have known, probably did know, that her own spirit and the spirit of little Ann Putnam could come into such communings as would give them accurate and conscious mutual perception of many unspoken thoughts and experiences in each other. Mrs. Corey, as we view her, was very mediumistic, and was also a woman whose habitual aspirations were after things true, pure, and excellent. But no amount of good or bad moral and religious qualities either constitutes or nullifies ability for mutual visibility and rapport between mediumistic persons. All such are impressible more by virtue of their organisms and native properties, external and internal, than by any intellectual and moral acquisitions, whether good or _bad_. Properties issuing from Mrs. Corey's system probably pinched and otherwise tortured Ann Putnam; the girl knew their special mundane issuance, and innocently gave utterance to the knowledge. She did so innocently and in good faith. But the divulgence of facts often brings fearful sequences. When clear-headed logicians, being also conscientious and true men, as well as holders of undoubting faith that none but covenanted devotees to a wily devil could obtain knowledge and work harm by mysterious processes,--when such men took this case into careful consideration, the facts stated by the girl were to them proof that Mrs. Corey was the devil's minion, and therefore must be consigned to a witch's doom--death. Edward Putnam and one other complained of her. The warrant for her arrest was dated March 19, just one week after the visit of Putnam and Cheever. She was examined on the 21st; sentenced, September 9; executed, September 22. The questioning at the examination was discursive and protracted, spreading beyond inquiries as to who hurt the children, and how they were tormented, because of the prisoner's alleged disbelief in witchcraft; disapprobation of efforts to detect it; declarations that the magistrates, ministers, and others were blinded, and that she could open their eyes. She denied all knowledge as to who hurt the children, all knowledge of the devil, and repeatedly asked permission to go to prayer; but this privilege was denied her. She behaved like one conscious of innocence of the things laid to her charge, and manifested much intelligence, self-possession, and tact. While on trial, one feature in her demeanor, already indicated on a previous occasion, strongly attracts notice. Notwithstanding the terrible fate that was standing before her, and the unflagging persistency of the magistrates and all others present in assuming her guilt, she was several times accused of _laughing_. Those laughs may have been simply hysterical, but possibly they were widely different from such. "Why did you say the magistrates' and ministers' eyes were blinded," and "you would open them? She laughed, and denied it." "Were you to serve the devil ten years? She laughed." "Why did you say you would show us? She laughed again." As previously stated, when Edward Putnam and Ezekiel Cheever made their call, although she knew the solemn object of the visit, they report that "in a _smiling manner_ she said, 'I know what you are come for.' With 'eagerness of mind' she asked them, 'Does she tell you what clothes I have on?' And when they replied that Ann had said, 'You came and blinded her, and told her that she should see you no more before it was night, that so she might not tell us what clothes you had on,' she seemed to _smile at it as if she had showed us a pretty trick_." These men obviously were prettily tricked. But who was genuine author of playful proceedings at a time when the business was so grave and solemn? And whose emotions mantled her face with smiles in the stern and frowning presence of "authority"? Her calm and pleasant deportment, while others were agitated or solemnly stern, was very like what is often manifested through some human forms by intelligences whose condition places them beyond the reach of man's frowns, laws, prisons, and scaffolds, and who, dwelling aloof from storms of human passion, can smile amid scenes that make humanity shudder. Calef states, that "Martha Corey, wife to Giles Corey, protesting her innocency, concluded her life with an eminent prayer upon the ladder." Upham (vol. ii. 458) sums up her character thus: "Martha Corey was an aged Christian professor of eminently devout habits and principles. It is indeed a _strange fact_, that, in her humble home, surrounded, as it then was, by a wilderness, this husbandman's wife should have reached a height so above and beyond her age." The strangeness of the fact argues strongly in favor of our position, that she was so unfolded as to receive instruction directly from supernal teachers, or sense it in amid supernal auras. "But," continues the historian, "it is proved conclusively by the depositions adduced against her, that her mind was wholly disinthralled from the errors of that period. She utterly repudiated the doctrines of witchcraft, and expressed herself strongly and fearlessly against them. The prayer which this woman made 'upon the ladder,' and which produced such an impression upon those who heard it, was undoubtedly expressive of enlightened piety, worthy of being characterized as 'eminent' in its sentiments, and in its demonstration of an innocent, heart and life." All her history suggests that this worthy woman, whose ways and powers were somewhat peculiar, was one of those rare individuals whose interior perceptives become so unfolded while in the body as to sense in knowledge by processes, and in some directions to extent, beyond the possible reach of man's outward intellect. Because of such blissful unfoldings her age condemned her, hastened her exit from among a creed-bound people, and her entrance to the home of freed spirits. GILES COREY. As renowned as any one among all sufferers under persecutions for witchcraft--a hero in the band--was Giles Corey, husband of Martha, more than fourscore years old, but still strong and resolute. He may have been wild and rough in youth and early manhood, but was efficient in business, and before the close of life was possessor of a very handsome estate for those times in that region. When the witchcraft prosecutions commenced, he sided with the multitude for a time; was vexed that his wife would not do the same, and, in his excitement, perhaps gave free vent to such hard epithets as his tongue had been allowed to put forth freely in his earlier years; some of which were soon brought to bear against his good dame, while she was subjected to examination. From some cause his sympathy with the prosecutors subsided when he saw his good wife maligned by them, and soon the witch detectors were after him also. He was arrested and imprisoned. His keen penetration perceived that acquittal, as things were going, was impossible, unless the accused pleaded guilty; which plea truth, honor, and manhood forbade him to make. To be tried and condemned would involve a forfeiture of his property, and take it from his children. But no trial could be had, and of course no condemnation, unless he should plead either guilty or not guilty to the indictment. His decision was soon formed. Taken into court, he closed his lips, and no power there could open them. Neither _guilty_ nor _not guilty_ could be wrung from them. The large, strong, old man stood in calm majesty before the court, his silence challenging the whole civil power of the province to shake his purpose. English custom in such cases--and he probably knew it--was to subject the recusant to lingering torture, trusting that pain or prostration would wring out a plea of either guilty or not guilty. Order was given by the court to lay this old man prostrate, pile over him heavy weights, and put him upon starvation diet for the purpose of bringing his stubborn will to subjection. But neither oppressing weights, the pangs of hunger, nor both combined, weakened the hold of that strong will upon its purpose. His only utterances then were, "More weight, more weight!" Corey himself testified at his preliminary examination, and the court tried to make it evidence of diabolism, that, twice at least, when attempting to pray, there was more or less stoppage of his utterance. Whether this was caused by the action of some outside intelligence bringing spirit forces to bear upon him is not apparent. The case as stated will hardly justify the presumption, though it suggests the possibility that it was. The dumbness that was formerly imposed upon the prophet Ezekiel and priest Zacharias, and that which frequently befalls mediums in our own age, teach that unseen intelligences sometimes can and do temporarily prevent the use of vocal organs by their legitimate owners. The conclusive evidences which led to his commitment were spectral. His apparition had been seen by many, and had harmed them. Ann Putnam's sharp eyes were first in this case, as in most others, to see the witch. She saw this old man's apparition April 13; Mercy Lewis did on the 14th; and subsequently he was seen as a specter by, and gave annoyances to, eight other females and two males, who severally gave in depositions to that effect. Was their perception of him nothing more than the product of the imagination of the witnesses? Were all the declarations false? Possibly--but not probably; for both imagination and perjury are often charged with doing what clairvoyance legitimately sees and authorizes. He was examined April 19, five days after his apparition was first seen. Calef states that "Sept. 16th Giles Corey was prest to death." In a foot-note, p. 260 of _Salem Witchcraft_, we read that "Giles Corey was _executed_ Sept. 19, 1692, about noon." Perhaps these statements permit the conclusion that he was subjected to pressure from some hour of the 16th, Calef's date, till noon of the 19th, or about three days, when, according to Fowler, he died. "In pressing," Calef says, "his tongue being prest out of his mouth, the sheriff, with his cane, forced it in again when he was dying." Corey's endurance and call for "more weight," says Upham, ii. 340, "for a person of more than eighty-one years of age, must be allowed to have been a marvelous exhibition of prowess, illustrating, as strongly as anything in human history, the power of a resolute will over the utmost pain and agony of body, and demonstrating that Giles Corey was a man of heroic nerve, and of a spirit that could not be subdued." Hutchinson closes his account of this case with the remark that, "in all ages of the world, superstitious credulity has produced greater cruelty than is practiced among Hottentots, or other nations, whose belief of a deity is called in question." And why "_greater_ cruelty"? Nowhere outside of Christendom was so cruel a devil conceived of as within it. And therefore greater incitements to cruelty were called up in those fighting against his minions than in any other men anywhere at any time. The creed devil-ward, and not general "superstitious credulity," evoked in strong, good men, true to their ancestral and the _Christian_ world's faith, more than SAVAGE CRUELTY. REBECCA NURSE. The deluding and heart-steeling power of false conceptions of the devil, combined with clear faith that he could get access to external things only through human covenanters with himself, and also with belief that it was an imperative duty of Christian men to slay such persons as even spectral evidence or statements of clairvoyants pointed to as being in league with him, is perhaps manifested as strikingly and sadly in the case of Rebecca Nurse, as in that of any other person tried and executed at Salem--or indeed anywhere, in any age. The spirit-form or apparition of this venerable lady--venerable not only for years then bordering upon fourscore, but for a long life of active beneficence; for strong good sense; for Christian graces; for being the good wife of one and mother and mother-in-law of several as good, respectable, and useful men as the Village contained. Character and domestic connections so shielded her that nothing short of mighty power could fix upon her a blasting crime. Her spirit-form or apparition had been seen by several members of the circle, and charged with having tempted them to evil and tormented them prior to the 23d of March; on the 24th she was brought before the magistrates and subjected to examination. The occasion was well fitted to put to severe test existing fealty to a fearful creed. Well might the magistrate then say to the prisoner, as he did, "What a sad thing it is that a church member ... should be thus accused and charged." Especially _sad_ it must have been in this case, because the accused had long been, and well deserved to be, regarded as one of the most venerable and esteemed of all the "mothers in Israel" residing in the region there and round about. Some sympathy was on her side, for when she said, "I can say before my Eternal Father I am innocent, and God will clear my innocency," the magistrate responded, "There is never a one in the assembly but desires it." This venerable matron was then, and for scores of years had been, beloved and respected wherever known for her beautiful domestic, social, and religious course. Even such a one, however, was drawn in and crushed by the fierce and whirling zeal that was impelling community into headlong and frenzied fight for God and Christ against the _Devil_. Age and virtue were insufficient to arrest or divert the rushing storm which hallucination devil-ward then generated and propelled. A benighting creed, like a huge nightmare, lay down upon, and held down, both reason and all the kindlier sentiments, while it evoked and allowed free play to harsh and murderous propensities. Whither either natural brilliancy or natural attraction drew clairvoyant eyes most intently, thither were the accusing girls swayed to lead the whelming force. Why should they lead to, or rather why fix upon, the beloved and venerated Mrs. Nurse? We may not find in the old records as full and distinct evidence that she was constitutionally impressible by either mesmeric or spirit force, as many others are now seen to have been--we may miss conclusive _proof_ that she was a magnet either drawing to or emitting from itself psychological forces unconsciously, and thence either becoming herself psychologized or yielding out substances from her own system which might cause, or be made instrumental in causing, marked changes in other human organisms. Still, several facts indicate that she may be assigned a place among the sensitives. Mrs. Nurse, Mrs. Easty, and Mrs. Cloyse--three sisters--whose maiden name was Towne, were eminently intelligent, efficient, respectable, and respected matrons, and yet were all accused, tried, and the elder two were executed because their spirit-forms or apparitions had been seen by clairvoyants. The records contain a statement made at the time, in these words: "It was no wonder they were witches, _for their mother was so before them_." Often "blood will out" whatever its quality. Three noble daughters bespeak a good mother, and yet, for some reason, Mrs. Towne had been called _a witch_. The properties of the parent reappeared in her children, and rendered them visible by the inner or clairvoyant sight of others. Perception of their spirit-forms and of influences thence emanating caused the accusing girls to name these good women as their tormentors. Visibility as spirits or apparitions, and effluxes from their systems, were their crimes. Though members of the accusing circle had been demonstrative for several weeks, and probably had attracted to their bedsides or homes nearly every person in the town who could move abroad, yet, at the time of her examination, Mrs. Nurse had not been to see any of them. Her age and infirmities alone might well have excused her. But when asked why she had not visited the sufferers, she added to a statement of her years and debility, that "by reason of _fits_ that she formerly used to have," she had not been to see them. Remembrance of her own past fits--not recent--not impending fits--but fits which "she _formerly_ used to have," deterred her from going to the presence of the fit-afflicted. The question was repeated thus: "_Why_ did you never visit these afflicted persons?" _Ans._ "Because I was afraid _I should have fits, too_." Why afraid of such result? Obviously she felt a secret apprehension that her coming in contact with emanations from these mysteriously fit-afflicted ones, or into close sympathy with them, would bring upon herself again such fits as "she formerly used to have." From this comes forth spontaneously the inference that she suspected that the nature and source of her own former fits, and of those then transpiring in youthful forms, were so nearly allied, that under the general law which makes like produce its like, she was liable to have again generated within herself, in her old age, such sufferings as she had experienced some time in previous years. In our view she was correct in her supposition that she herself was constitutionally liable to just such handlings as the jumping-jack girls were receiving. Her own fears bespeak the probability that Mrs. Nurse was very impressible by mind not her own--that she was highly mediumistic; and we ascribe her persecution to her impressibility. Natural law led to designation of both this woman and her sisters as the devil's covenanted servants. Their creed blinded her persecutors to moral perceptions in certain emergencies, and made them reason falsely concerning the source and purport of spectral data. The presumed mediumistic properties of her mother, together with her own apprehension that presence with the girls might bring renewal of her own old fits, indicate that she probably was quite mediumistic. There is, however, no clear indication that she was at any time so far developed as to see or hear spirits or specters, nor that her own selfhood ever yielded up to another's use her physical organs of speech or action. Mr. Parris, who, by request from the magistrates, took minutes of the questions and responses at the trial of Mrs. Nurse, states that the tumult in court was very disturbing, and intimates that it was difficult to furnish a very reliable account of the transactions. Also Mrs. Nurse was quite deaf and otherwise infirm, so that it is doubtful whether she always correctly understood the questions put to her, or that she held her mental faculties under such control as enabled her to give pertinent answers at all times. She is reported as expressing belief that the accusing girls were "not acting against their wills." Therein, if she was correctly understood, she differed from the court and most beholders of the children. Then the court remarked, "If you think it is not unwillingly, but by design, you must look upon them as murderers." Probably all others made that inference, and yet the accused did not. She distinctly denied that she looked upon them as _murderers_, and only called them "distracted." Crazy, and yet voluntary, seems to have been the view she took of the girls; they were voluntary, but not responsible actors. Their own wills, guided by their own intellects in disordered condition, produced the fearful allegations. This was her charitable view. The power of human will to resist fits like those which the afflicted endured is brought up for consideration when we find enfeebled Mrs. Nurse afraid that visiting the suffering girls might induce recurrence of such fits as she "formerly used to have." She seems to have surmised the probable existence of such contagion in the air surrounding the sufferers as in her weak state she might be unable to ward off; and it is possible that memories of her own success when she was strong, in baffling fit-producers may have persuaded her that young persons possess power to withstand such operators, whether intelligent or merely physical, even though the old may not. What human wills can do deserves most careful notice, and was well illustrated in the case of little Elizabeth Parris. She was only nine years old, and was one of the first, if not the very first, to be distressed by fits and pinchings at the Village,--was the one whom Tituba loved, and was specially unwilling, and yet was forced, to pinch. Upham says, "She seems to have performed a leading part in the first stages of the affair, and must have been a child of remarkable precocity." Drake, in vol. iii., Appendix, says, "Parris appears to have been very desirous of preventing his daughter Elizabeth from participating in the excitement at the village. She was sent by her father, at the commencement of the delusion, to reside at Salem, with Captain Stephen Sewall. While there, the captain and his wife were much discouraged in effecting a cure, as she continued to have sore fits. Elizabeth said that the great Black-man came to her and told her, that if she would be ruled by him, she should have whatsoever she desired, and go to a _golden city_. She related this to Mrs. Sewall, who immediately told the child it was the devil, and he was a liar, and bade her tell him so if he came again; which she did accordingly.... The devil ... unaccustomed in those days to experience such resistance ... never troubled her afterwards." It is generally true, that if one strenuously resist the visitings of any spirit, whether it be Gabriel or Beelzebub, the spirit cannot long maintain close access. If the account just given, relating to Elizabeth Parris, be correct, she both saw and heard what she, the actual and unsophisticated observer of his form and features, called the "black man,"--who, as Mather states clairvoyants generally say, "resembles an Indian." But Mrs. Sewall, adopting the usage of the time, ignorantly called this semblance of an Indian "THE DEVIL." Yes, the little girl, after her removal from home and _The Circle_, and no doubt without young confederates, continued to have sore fits, and also to see and to hear with her inner organs of sense during quite a long time. "The captain and his wife were much discouraged in effecting a cure." The discouragement shows that the process of cure was slow and prolonged; eventually, however, the desired result was reached. The remedy is indicated. Will-power wrought out the cure. The patient's own will was aroused and armed with a resolute purpose to close up, and to keep constantly and firmly closed, her own spirit loopholes through which only could she see or hear the black man, or be influenced by him. A strong will, steadily set against the entrance of a disembodied spirit, or against perception of such, generally, though not always, effects its purpose. The wills of companions and advisers, if working in harmony with the resisting one, greatly increase its resisting power. Mrs. Sewall, and the captain too, no doubt kept their wills set against the visiting black man, till will-force generated an aura whose outgoing waves he could not breast, and by which the girl's inner perceptives were firmly bandaged and made dormant. Were the fits and visions which the isolated child continued to have for a time after she was sent from home nothing other than her own voluntary pranks and feignings? She was not author of them. The black man, or Indian, then acted through and upon her till it was no longer in his power to perform mighty works there because of unbelief, which had grown up and hardened into an impervious wall of seclusion. Knowledge, gained by our personal observation in 1857, enables us to state distinctly that the late Professor Agassiz, a man strong in body, mind, and will, (while arrangements were being made for himself and several associate professors for an investigation of spirit manifestations at the Albion in Boston,) demanded for himself at the very outset, and was granted, exemption from obligation to sit in a circle. Through all the sessions which followed he kept most of the time on his feet, walking vigorously back and forth, and manifesting symptoms of great uneasiness. We then had heard that he formerly had been mesmerized, and therefore suspected that he feared that if he sat quietly down in the presence of mediums, he "should have fits too." His own account of his experiences under the hands of Rev. Chauncy Hare Townshend we have given at length in a recent work, published by Colby & Rich, Boston, entitled "Agassiz and Spiritualism." We now gladly use what seems fitting occasion to state our own belief, that his demand for personal exemption from compliance with a rule which it was customary, fair, and important to enforce upon every person present at a seance, and that his restlessness and disturbing movements all sprung from a motive much more in harmony with the high character and principles of that illustrious man, than are disparaging ones which have often been ascribed to him. In our judgment, _self-protection_ was his motive, and not design to disturb harmony, and thus frustrate manifestations. His former experience had taught him that even over his firm mental resistance another's mind had entered his body and taken it out from under his own control; therefore he well might apprehend that, if not very cautious, he again "might have fits," or might become "a Saul among prophets." We have already substantially said that the blinding, infuriating, and bloodthirsty beliefs of former days are perhaps in no case more distinctly and deplorably manifested than in the lawless, barbarous treatment to which good Rebecca Nurse was subjected by a court and people who sought to do, and believed that they were doing, acceptable service to God, or, at least, offensive service to the devil. Spectral evidence against her, and that alone, was allowed to outweigh the merits of a long and beneficent life. The jury first brought her in _not_ guilty. This verdict, surprising the court, induced it to express apprehension that the jurors had not given due weight to certain expressions which the prisoner had uttered; whereupon _the jury itself requested permission_ to retire and hold further deliberation; and even such a privilege was granted them! They retired, reversed their verdict, pronounced her _guilty_, and she was sentenced to be hanged. Afterward the governor of the province granted her reprieve; and yet he soon revoked his own clement act. Probably neither jury, nor the governor, was convinced that she was guilty of the crime charged; nevertheless, both were forced by popular demand to let the reputation and life of this eminently good woman fall a sacrifice before infatuation and frenzy which the erroneous creed of the times engendered. MARY EASTY, a woman of strong character, good common sense, and capable of comprehending both the dangers besetting any one then accused of witchcraft, and also the purport and bearings of such questions as the court was accustomed to ask, is presented in the following account. "The examination of Mary Easty, at a court held at Salem Village, April 22, 1692, by the Wop. John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin. "At the bringing in of the accused, several fell into fits. 'Doth this woman hurt you?' Many mouths were stopt, and several other fits seized them. Abigail Williams said it was Goody Easty, and she had hurt her; the like said Mary Walcot and Ann Putnam. John Jackson said he saw her with Goody Hobbs. "'What do you say; are you guilty?' _Ans._ 'I can say before Jesus Christ I am free.' _Response._ 'You see these accuse you.' _Ans._ 'There is a God.' "'Hath she brought the book to you (the accusing girls)?' Their months were stopt. "'What have you done to these children?' _Ans._ 'I know nothing.' "'How can you say you know nothing, when you see these tormented and accuse you?' _Ans._ 'Would you have me accuse myself?' 'Yes, if you be guilty. How far have you complied with Satan whereby he takes this advantage of you?' "'Sir, I never complied: but prayed against him all my days. I have no compliance with Satan in this. What would you have me do?' "'Confess, if you be guilty.' "'I will say it, if it was my last time: I am clear of this sin.' "'Of what sin?' "'Of witchcraft.' "(To the children.) 'Are you certain this is the woman?' "Never a one could speak for fits. "By and by, Ann Putnam said that was the woman: it was like her; 'and she told me her name.' "(The court.) 'It is marvelous to me that you should sometimes think they are bewitched and sometimes not, when several confess that they have been guilty of bewitching them.' "'Well, sir, would you have me confess what I never knew?' "Her hands were clenched together, and then the hands of Mercy Lewis were clenched. "'Look: now your hands are open, her hands are open. Is this the woman?' "They made signs, but could not speak. But Ann Putnam, (and) afterwards Betty Hubbard, cried out, 'Oh, Goody Easty, Goody Easty, you are the woman!' "'Put up her head; for while her head is bound, the necks of these are broken.' "'What do you say to this?' "'Why, God will know.' "'Nay, God knows now.' "'I know he does.' "'What did you think of the actions of others before your sisters came out? Did you think it was witchcraft?' "'I cannot tell.' "'Why, do you not think it is witchcraft?' "'It is _an evil spirit_; but whether it be witchcraft I do not know.' "Several said she brought them the book, and then they fell into fits. "Salem Village, March 24, 169-1/2. "Mr. Samuel Parris, being desired to take in writing the examination of Mary Estie, hath delivered it as aforesaid. "'Upon hearing the aforesaid, and seeing what we did then see, together with the charge of the persons then present, we committed said Mary Easty to their Majesty's jail. "JOHN HATHORNE, } "JONATHAN CORWIN, } _Assists_.'" Among the records of examinations and trials for witchcraft in 1692 we have met with none other more commendable in its apparent spirit on both sides, and in its continuous decorum, than the above; none other, also, which reveals more clearly extreme depth of public conviction that the prevalent witchcraft creed was sound to the core, and belief that spectral evidence alone might legally prove the crime charged. From aught that appears, there was something pertaining to Mrs. Easty, probably her whole general character and her intellect, which held back both court and spectators from rudeness in treatment of her, and even frequently tied up the tongues of the accusing girls. The spectacle presented by that examination was most rare and wonderful. We feel, when reading the records, that magistrates, populace, and the accusers, all--all longed for her acquittal; that none desired to, because none did accuse her of anything but having been seen as an apparition, and of being the cause of the fits which the girls were enduring. The girls named her as the cause of their fits, but seemingly with less alacrity than they did most others in like circumstances. But sympathy and respect must yield before belief; her fit-producing emanations at that day proved her to have covenanted to serve the devil. Having done that, she was _witch_, and therefore must die. Her clear head perceived that the sufferings of the girls must owe their existence to some occult power outside of themselves, and ascribed it to "an evil spirit." Such an origin, however, did not prove to her satisfaction that the doings were witchcrafts, that is, acts performed either at the instigation or by aid of some mortal who was in covenant with the devil. She was enough in advance of her times to suspect that a spirit might work upon and among men without having formed such connection with a mortal ally as would prove one's operations to be witchcrafts. She perceived that the girls were wrought upon by some spirit, and she deemed it an evil one. This noble woman was wife of Isaac Easty of Topsfield, fifty-eight years old, and mother of seven children. After her conviction and sentence, and when hope of escaping the dire penalty had fled, she addressed an admirable letter to those then in power. The same inborn susceptibilities which made her a victim may also have permitted a free influx of uplifting power which raised her above narrow, selfish, and domestic views, and prompted her, in moods generous and lofty, to appeal, in behalf of the whole people of the land, for a stop in the course which the civil authorities were pursuing. We judge the letter to be her own production, and deem it indicative of good mental powers and of elevated philanthropy. "_The humble petition of Mary Easty unto His Excellency Sir William Phips, and to the honored Judge and Bench now sitting in judicature in Salem, and the reverend Ministers, humbly showeth_, That, whereas your poor and humble petitioner, being condemned to die, do humbly beg of you to take it into your judicious and pious consideration, that your poor and humble petitioner, knowing my own innocency, blessed be the Lord for it! and seeing plainly the wiles and subtilty of my accusers by myself, cannot but judge charitably of others that are going the same way of myself if the Lord steps not mightily in. I was confined a whole month upon the same account that I am condemned now for, and then cleared by some of the afflicted persons, as some of Your Honors know. And in two days' time I was cried out upon (by) them, and have been confined, and now am condemned to die. The Lord above knows my innocency then, and likewise does now, as at the great day will be known to men and angels. I petition Your Honors not for my own life, for I know I must die, and my appointed time is set; but, the Lord he knows it is, that if it be possible, no more _innocent blood_ may be shed, which undoubtedly cannot be avoided in the way and course you go in. I question not but Your Honors do to the utmost of your powers in the discovery and detecting of witchcraft and witches, and would not be guilty of innocent blood for the world. But _by my own innocency I know you are in the wrong way_. The Lord in his infinite mercy direct you in this great work, if it be his blessed will, that no more innocent blood be shed! I would humbly beg of you that Your Honors would be pleased to examine these afflicted persons strictly, and keep them apart some time, and likewise to try some of these confessing witches; I being confident there is several of them has belied themselves and others, as will appear, if not in this world, I am sure in the world to come, whither I am now agoing. I question not but you will see an alteration in these things. They say, myself and others having made a league with the devil, we cannot confess.... The Lord above, who is the searcher of all hearts, knows, as I shall answer it at the tribunal seat, that I know not the least thing of witchcraft: therefore I cannot, I dare not belie my own soul. I beg Your Honors not to deny this my poor humble petition from a poor, dying, innocent person. And I question not but the Lord will give a blessing to your endeavors." Calef says, that, "when she took her last farewell of her husband, children, and friends," she "was, as is reported by them present, as serious, religious, distinct, and affectionate as could well be expressed, drawing tears from the eyes of almost all present." We can readily credit that account to its fullest possible import; for her deportment and language, throughout all the scenes in which she is presented, bespeak a strong, clear, discriminating intellect, a true and brave heart, elevated and generous sentiments, firm faith in God, and broad charity toward man. A most welcome child found entrance to some bright home above when her tried spirit gained release from its mortal form. SUSANNA MARTIN. The person bearing the above name was a widow residing in Amesbury, who had been tried for witchcraft more than twenty years before, and therefore obviously in 1692 was well along in life. Her answers in court, however, bespeak a prompt, self-possessed, shrewd, and seemingly merry prisoner. A few of her replies, together with the questions which elicited them, are as follows:-- "Ann Putnam threw her glove at her in a fit. 'What do you laugh at?' said the court. _Ans._ 'Well I may at such folly.' "'Is this folly to see these so hurt?' 'I never hurt man, woman, or child.' "'What do you think ails them?' 'I do not desire to spend my judgment upon it.' 'Do you think they are bewitched?' 'No; I do not think they are.' 'Well, tell us your thoughts about them.' 'My thoughts are mine own when they are in; but when they are out they are another's.' 'Who do you think is their master?' 'If they be dealing in the black art, you may know as well as I.' 'How comes your appearance just now to hurt these?' 'How do I know?' 'Are you not willing to tell the truth?' 'He that appeared in Samuel's shape can appear in any one's shape.'" One R. P., dated Salisbury, August 9, 1692, and forwarded to Jonathan Corwin, a document ranking among the ablest on record against the legal proceedings of that day, in which he says, "I suppose 'tis granted by all that the person of one that is dead cannot appear, because the soul and body are separated, and so the person is dissolved, and so ceaseth to be; and it is certain that the person of the living cannot be in two places at one time." That writer conceived that man's personality ceased at death; therefore he logically inferred that the personality of the prophet Samuel had gone out of existence, and said, "The witch of Endor raised the DEVIL, in the likeness of Samuel, to tell Saul his fortune." We find in many places the cropping out, in those days, of the same idea. Susanna Martin indicated her belief that it was the devil who appeared to the woman of Endor, and not the glorified Samuel. Premises deemed valid by some men in 1692, would, if applied in that direction, support the conclusion that the Moses and Elias who appeared to Jesus and others on the mount of transfiguration were nothing but the devil in the shapes of those old prophets. Belief that the devil personated Samuel is to us no more unphilosophical than is Upham's conclusion, that "by the immediate agency of the Almighty the spirit of Samuel really arose." Paul taught that there _is_--not that there is to be hereafter, that there is now--"a spiritual _body_." All clairvoyants to-day can see such a body belonging to a human form, and sometimes see it being far away from the form to which nature attached it. Each human being now possesses both a natural or physical and also a spiritual _form_. That position of R. P. and Susanna Martin was unsound which held that the physical body was essential to personality. Also, since the Almighty originally infused through nature, elements and forces which admit of the return of spirits by natural processes, it is as unphilosophical to hold that Samuel was raised by the immediate agency of the Almighty, or miraculously, as it would be to ascribe an American traveler's return home from Europe to the _immediate_ agency of the same Being. Natural laws and forces permitted, under possible conditions, the return of Samuel himself. Such conditions existed often in and around the hospitable and sympathetic woman of Endor, who was no _witch_, in the now common meaning of that word; who was not called such in the Bible,--but only a person who had a _familiar_ spirit, that is, a spirit so constantly present, and having such ability of communion with her, as made the spirit seem to her like one of her family--her familiar. A spirit thus attendant on a mortal may be either good, bad, or indifferent, and may be cognized by those persons whose constitution and development are such that their inner senses can report to their external consciousness. The existing properties of that woman, which permitted some special spirit to frequently dwell and commune intelligibly with her, and be cognizable by her inner senses as a dweller in her household, as her familiar,--such properties would enable her to perceive the form and hear the voice of another spirit, who might be called to her presence for an urgent purpose, as naturally as the outer eye which sees one external form is competent to see another. Samuel, when wanted, came and was seen by the clairvoyant woman, but not by the external eyes of either Saul or his attendants. The case was very like what occurred at the first examination under an accusation for witchcraft at Salem Village. Sarah Good then said, "None here see the witches"--that is, none see spirits--"but the afflicted and themselves,"--that is, none but the afflicted and the accused, of which she was one. In other words, the actual doers of the marvelous works, the spirits, are seen only by the accusers and the accused--the clairvoyants here. It is true that in the more modern instance the spirits seen were often, though not always, those of living persons. But this does not affect the principles of explanation. Those persons who are so unfolded as to see spirit-forms can sometimes see them, whether they be still attached to the outer ones or be liberated. Spirits, both some who had been entirely liberated from the flesh, and other flesh-clad ones whose encasements were translucent, could be seen by members of the accusing "circle," and by some others of like combinations, even when the court and the mass of attendants upon it might fail to see anything of the kind. The horses and chariots of fire were as clearly seen by Elisha on the hills of Dothan, while his servant was blind to them, as they were after the young man's inner eyes were opened so that he too saw the helping and protecting hosts. The change was in the young man himself, and not up on the hills. Departed spirits are where they feel our aspirations for their presence, and the opening of our inner sight, at any time or in any place, might render them visible. Returning to Susanna Martin, we find that one William Brown, of Salisbury, made deposition in 1692, "that, about one or two and thirty years ago, his wife met Susanna in the road, who 'vanished away out of her sight,' ... after which time the said Martin did many times appear to her at her house, and did much trouble her.... When she did come, it was as birds pecking her legs, or pricking her with the motion of their wings; and then it would rise up into her stomach with pricking pain, as nails and pins, of which she did bitterly complain.... After that it would up to her throat in a bunch like a pullet's egg; and then she would turn back her head and say, 'Witch, you shan't choke me.'" Much more testimony was adduced to show that this woman's apparition was very frequently seen; and not only seen, but was a source of exceeding sufferings to many people. This argues nothing against her character, but plainly hints that the relation of her inner to her outer form was such that the former could be seen and felt by many persons who either constitutionally or from sickness, or both, were very sensitive. Such persons often saw her spirit-form, and suffered from its psychological action. That peculiarity perhaps made her so luminous as to be observable, and therefore accused, by "the circle," and the accusation brought her to the gallows. MARTHA CARRIER. The faculties and manifestations which nearly two centuries ago were deemed to constitute witchcraft, and the mode of eliciting proof of that crime then, stand forth very conspicuously in the history of the wife and children of Thomas Carrier of Andover. _The Examination of Martha Carrier, May 31, 1692._ "_Q._ Abigail Williams, who hurts you? _A._ Goody Carrier of Andover. "_Q._ Elizabeth Hubbard, who hurts you? _A._ Goody Carrier. "_Q._ Susan Sheldon, who hurts you? _A._ Goody Carrier; she bites me, pinches me, and tells me she would cut my throat if I did not sign her book. Mary Walcott said she afflicted her, and brought the book to her. "_Q._ What do you say to this you are charged with? _A._ I have not done it. Susan Sheldon cried, she looks upon the black man. Ann Putnam complained of a pin stuck in her. _Q._ What black man is that? _A._ I know none. Mary Warren cried out she was pricked. _Q._ What black man did you see? _A._ I saw no black man but _your own presence_. _Q._ Can you look upon these and not knock them down? _A._ They will dissemble if I look upon them. You see you look upon them and they fall down. _A._ It is false; the _devil is a liar_. I looked upon none since I came into the room. Susan Sheldon cried out _in a trance_, I wonder what could you murder thirteen persons! Mary Walcott testified the same: that there lay thirteen ghosts! All the afflicted fell into intolerable outcries and agonies. Elizabeth Hubbard and Ann Putnam testified the same: that she had killed thirteen at Andover. _A._ It is a shameful thing that you should mind these folks, who are out of their wits. _Q._ Do not you see them? _A._ If I do speak you will not believe me. You do see them, said the accusers. _A._ You lie; I am wronged. There is a black man whispering in her ear, said many of the afflicted. Mercy Lewis in a violent fit, was well, upon the examinant's grasping her arm. The tortures of the afflicted were so great that there was no enduring of it, so that she was ordered away, and to be bound hand and foot with all expedition; the afflicted in the mean while almost killed, to the great trouble of all spectators, magistrates, and others. "_Note._ As soon as she was well bound they all had strange and sudden ease. Mary Walcott told the magistrates, that this woman told her, she had been a witch this forty years." The foregoing record shows the fearful ordeal to which any one might be subjected upon whom an accusation of witchcraft fell, and the hopelessness of escape where spectral evidence was admitted and held to be reliable. Here was a woman who, it seems, had been conscious of spirit presence with her for "forty years," and her constitutional properties which permitted this were so luminous in the spiritual atmosphere, or medium of vision by inner eyes, that the clairvoyant girls readily caught sight of her, readily felt influences from her, and therefore accused her of tormenting them. The general character and deportment of this woman prior to her arrest may not have won public approbation. When in presence of the magistrates she was self-possessed and not lacking in boldness; for otherwise she would not have told the judge that his own presence was the only black man she had seen there. She told her examiners that it was shameful for them to mind "these folks, who are out of their wits." She said to the girls, "You lie; I am wronged." Her presence permitted extraordinary visions, contortions, sufferings, and outcries, and probably emanations from her were special helps to the unwonted outflow. _In trance_, one saw thirteen dead bodies, and charged the accused with having murdered them. It was _in trance_ that this was seen and said. If _entranced_, was the girl, then, a voluntary seer and speaker? No. Supermundane force was in action there. Entrancements and obsessions came upon all those youthful accusers fitfully--and the forms of the girls generally were tools operated by wills entering from outside. The tongue of that entranced accuser, like Ann Cole's, probably was "improved to utter thoughts that never were in her own mind." Four of Mrs. Carrier's children were brought into court in company with herself, either as accused ones or as witnesses against some members of the family. "Before the trial," says Drake, "several of her own children had frankly and fully confessed not only that they were witches themselves, but that their mother had made them so." The artlessness and simplicity of their _confessions_ render them not simply entertaining, but more instructive than almost any other statements made at the examinations and trials. Little Sarah was asked,-- "How long have you been a witch? _A._ Ever since I was six years old. How old are you now? _A._ Near eight years old; brother Richard says I shall be eight years old in November next. "Who made you a witch? _A._ My mother; she made me set my hand to a book. How did you set your hand to it? _A._ I touched it with my fingers; and the book was red; the paper of it was white. She said she never had seen the black man ... that her mother had baptized her, and the devil or black man was not there, as she saw. Her mother said, when she baptized her, 'Thou art mine for ever and ever. Amen.' "How did you afflict folks? _A._ I pinched them. She said she went to those whom she afflicted--_went_, not in body, but in her spirit. She would not own that she had ever been at the witch-meeting at the Village." The _confessions_ (?) are beautiful and precious; they are robed in all the appropriate naivete of any school-girl's _confession_ that herself was a--_pupil_. Not a tinge of shame, sorrow, or humiliation is visible anywhere about them. Not a sign appears, that, in little Sarah's comprehension, there was anything more censurable, as in fact there was not, in her being a witch, than there is in the child of to-day being a Sunday school scholar. Disclosure of common occurrences at her home, which inborn faculties there as naturally brought into view, as other faculties there and elsewhere cause the limbs of childhood to expand and its intellect to unfold, constituted her confession of the witchcraft that pertained to her mother and herself. The common mind, if not cautioned, will almost perforce attach meanings to the testimonies of Martha Carrier's children which never belonged to them. The detailings of facts and experiences not rare in that mediumistic family, were no confession of anything like what the public in any age has been accustomed to designate by the term witchcraft. In biblical times the occurrences might have been called prophecies--true or false--and to-day they would be regarded as spirit manifestations, or near kindred to such. The little girl's _confessions_ are _precious_ as well as beautiful; they are instructive comments upon the creed held by the adults of her day; they give some support to the position that compact with some spirit was an element in preparation for working marvels. Her mother baptized her, and made her virtually sign a book, and then claimed her own child as hers "for ever and ever, Amen." The little child herself seems to have regarded this ratification of her mother's spirit claims upon her spirit as having made herself a witch; but such a witch as she was not ashamed to be, and saw no harm in being. Indeed, how can any other than perverted vision see harm in the girl's filial compact? Her clairvoyant and other mediumistic faculties had become so unfolded when she was about six years old, that she and her mother, as freed spirits, could, in conscious companionship, roam in spirit realms; and she, no doubt, felt that forces emanating from the mother aided in her unfoldment, and continued to have much sway over her in her mental journeyings and operations. She might with much propriety say that her mother made her a witch. And her case shows that the process for producing a witch might be much simpler and much less horrifying than the public in her day had any conception of. Indeed, witchification was then, and now is, a growth or unfoldment from God's plantings much more than a manufacture by the devil's or any mother's hands. She saw no devil, no black man--but only her own mother was concerned in making her a witch; and the mother probably made her a witch by processes as natural and legitimate as those by which she had previously made her a child. The girl's power for afflicting was mental; her journeyings and pinchings were mental; and yet, no doubt, her grip was as sensibly felt by the nerves of those whom she pinched as would have been firm graspings of their flesh by her fingers of bones and muscles. It is the spirit only which feels hurts of the body, and a pinched spirit imprints the hurt on the flesh it is animating. This little girl's statements confirm Tituba's, and give credibility to the many declarations of the accusing girls that they were pinched, bitten, and tortured by persons whose outer forms were remote from them at the time. We live amid mysteries which one by one are getting revealed as time rolls on. An instructive instance of the warping force of these prevalent beliefs in shaping the diction of the most erudite describers of witchcraft facts, is found in Lawson's summary of events, where, when commenting upon testimony like that given by little Sarah, he says, "Several have _confessed_ against their own mother, that they were instruments to bring them into _the devil's covenant_." But the girl's testimony mentioned a covenant with her mother _alone_, saying that the devil was not there, as she saw. It was Lawson, and not the girl, who brought the devil into this case. The same writer further says, "Some girls of eight or nine years of age did declare that after they were so betrayed by their mothers to the power of _Satan_, they saw _the devil_ go in their _own shapes_ to afflict others." But the statement of Sarah is, that she herself went forth and afflicted in her spirit-form, and not that the _devil_ went in her shape. The cultured of that generation had _devil on the brain_ so severely, that they persistently brought him in even where the facts as presented by the witnesses plainly excluded him. Richard Carrier, eighteen years old, son of Thomas and Martha, was examined. "Have you been in the devil's snare?--Yes. "Is your brother Andrew insnared by the devil's snare?--Yes. "How long has your brother been a witch?--Near a month. "How long have you been a witch?--Not long. "Have you joined in afflicting the afflicted persons?--Yes. "You helped to hurt Timothy Swan, did you?--Yes. "How long have you been a witch?--About five weeks. "Who was in company when you covenanted with the devil?--Mrs. Bradbury. "Did she help you afflict?--Yes. "Who was at the Village Meeting when you were there?--Goodwife How, Goodwife Nurse, Goodwife Wildes, Proctor and his wife, Mrs. Bradbury, and Corey's wife. "What did they do there?--Eat, and drank wine. "Was there a minister there?--No, not as I know of. "From whence had you your wine?--From Salem, I think it was. "Goodwife Oliver there?--Yes; I knew her." Statements by this witness, and also his probable circumstances and condition, seem worthy of special note. Frankness glows on all that he said. He was stating facts, which, in his apprehension, were harmless, and why should he not let them out? He knew, probably, that his mother had all through his life been accustomed to see and act through other than her physical organs, and was conscious that during the last five weeks at least himself had been doing the same. The abilities came unsought into action--were outgrowths from the natures of his mother and himself, and were not crimes. His long familiarity with the ostensible workings of such powers through his mother had shown him that they were neither diabolical nor censurable; and why not admit possession of them, and the acts they produced, whether through himself, his mother, or any one else? Neither the mother nor children in that family were afraid of ghostly beings, because able to confer with them intelligibly and sympathetically; and the ready admission by Richard that he had aided in hurting Timothy Swan, and been at a great witch-meeting, where they ate, and also drank wine, was no confession of any crime, but simple statement of facts. He was a medium, and also a frank and truthful witness. He granted that he had been in the devil's snare. How much did this import? He and his brother Andrew both had been caught in it--one about four, and the other five, weeks prior to his statement. As certain atmospheric and other physical conditions often produce epidemic or wide-spread physical health or disease either, and certain public mental and moral states often act powerfully upon many minds, the great public excitement engendered by the arrest and prosecution of witches may well be deemed adequate to have unfolded latent mediumistic susceptibilities very widely; and it is not surprising that the children of a Martha Carrier should have such susceptibilities suddenly brought to their own cognizance, nor that they should as suddenly become well-fledged clairvoyants competent to wing their way widely and rapidly in the airs of a world in which spirits dwell; nor that they should be psychologized by spirit beings, and made to take part in any work, malignant or benevolent, which their controllers were bent upon executing. By being caught in the devil's snare, they probably meant neither more nor less than that they became mediums. All conditions like theirs the public was charging the devil with producing, and the young Carriers assented to that being done in their own case. Most things not of the earth, earthy, were then charged to the devil; and the mental powers of these children were not competent to show that their slippings out from their hampering bodies were effected without his aid. Frequent mention occurs of witch-meetings at Salem Village, on the Green, or the minister's pasture, near Deacon Ingersoll's. If any accused one had been seen in the company of assembled witches there, the fact was excessively damaging. Richard Carrier acknowledged having been there, and freely mentioned what persons were in the assemblage--but did not see a minister. The records have not led us to suppose that Mrs. Carrier ever stood very high in public estimation. It is not improbable that influences from outside of her had often, during the forty years through which she had experienced them, made her life eccentric, and many of her actions mysterious. Even the aged and charitable Francis Dane said, "That there was a suspicion of goodwife Carrier among some of us before she was apprehended, I know; as for any other persons, I had no suspicion of them." We must infer from that statement that she was noted for some peculiarities which were not universally regarded with favor; suspicions hung around her. She was accused by one of causing grievous sores in himself, of sickening his cattle, and working many injuries; by others also of hurting and bewitching them, and of having attended a witch-meeting. The accusing girls, as seen above, were most excessively agonized when in court with her. She may justly be regarded, we think, as being socially among the lower class of persons then accused; and yet we have met with nothing which will justify an inference that she was altogether unworthy of esteem, or even that she was emphatically bad in any respect. Mather called her _rampant hag_, and hence much of Christendom has been influenced to contemplate her with aversion. But whatever may have been her character, the sufferings of herself and family draw forth our sympathies. If she said she had been a witch forty years, she meant only that for "forty years" she had been conscious of the ongoing of occult processes within and around herself. We doubt whether she applied the word _witch_ to herself, but can readily believe that she confessed to such experiences and performances as were in her day often called witchcrafts. That she detailed some experiences to Mary Walcott, which the latter termed witchcrafts, is highly probable. Neither the accused nor the accusers were accustomed to speak of seeing the devil; but it was the black man, or some other defined spirit,--not the devil,--according to their own statements. Yet when recorders and reporters undertook to give us either the substance of what was said, or a nearly verbatim report, they generally substituted devil for black man, or for any other unseen occult operator, whatever his, her, or its moral purpose or character. So, too, all specially marvelous works were called witchcrafts. The little Carrier children were very instructive witnesses. Too young and inexperienced to do otherwise than answer simple questions directly in such language as was common, they show us of to-day, better than do older witnesses, what was probably common application of some terms of very frequent use in descriptions of things marvelous. When by implication charged with being themselves witches, their answers conceded the truth of the charge. One of them, eight years old, said she had been a witch ever since she was six. Another, eighteen years old, had been a witch about five weeks, and said that brother Andrew had been such "near a month." Little did these frank and no doubt truthful young confessors of family and personal experiences deem that they were exposing themselves, and their mother also, to punishment by death. What they confessed to were frequent sights and sounds in their home, which came as naturally and innocently before them as the visits and words of friends and neighbors. Community called such matters witchcrafts, and why should not these children do the same? Their mental powers were not expanded enough to even entertain the slightest apprehension that what they were saying could imply that they had made a compact with the devil, or that a simple, true statement of their unsought experiences could bring harm to themselves or any one else. Equally incompetent were such little ones to comprehend the nature of that devil who existed in the conception of the magistrate when he asked whether the devil had insnared the witness and brother Andrew. They, no doubt, held the common notion that any worker whatsoever from realms unseen by the external eye was the devil; and having had experience--at least one of them had--that her own spirit had gone forth from her body and pinched certain persons, she understood that she had performed a part in works which were imputed to the devil. Still neither of these children confessed, or could be "insnared" to own, that they had seen _the devil_. They, obviously, and their mother, we do not doubt, often as naturally and innocently beheld spirit forms and scenes, and just as innocently held converse with spirits, as they surveyed the scenes and forms of the outer world, or went in company with embodied people to their congregations in the meeting-house or elsewhere. The words of babes and sucklings, at a witchcraft trial, revealed the existence of finer natural laws and forces, and their operation also, upon and through some human beings, than science then dreamed of, or is yet quite ready to recognize. Very much in witchcraft times was charged to the devil which should have been credited to God. The erroneous entry of many heavy items on the great account-books, in the days of the fathers, calls for immense labor and study for their proper and equitable adjustment now. Martha Carrier and her children were probably posted on the wrong side of the moral Ledger when Cotton Mather labeled her "Rampant Hag;" and there they have stood ever since. REV. GEORGE BURROUGHS. Having come to the last of the accused whose case our leading purpose induces us to notice at much length, we present here a specimen of indictment for the crime of witchcraft. "THE INDICTMENT OF GEORGE BURROUGHS. Essex } _Anno Regni Regis et Reginæ Willielmi et_ ss. } _Mariæ. Nunc Angliæ, &c., quarto._ "The jurors of our sovereign lord and lady, the king and queen, _present_--That George Burroughs, late of Falmouth, in the province of Massachusetts Bay, in New England, clerk, the 9th day of May, in the fourth year of the reign of our sovereign lord and lady, William and Mary, by the grace of God, of England, Scotland, France and Ireland king and queen, defenders of the faith, &c., and divers other days and times, as well before as after, certain detestable arts, called witchcrafts and sorceries, wickedly and feloniously hath used, practiced, and exercised, at and within the township of Salem, in the county of Essex aforesaid, in, upon, and against one Mary Walcutt, of Salem Village, in the county of Essex, single woman; by which said wicked arts the said Mary Walcutt, the 9th day of May, in the fourth year abovesaid, and divers other days and times, as well before as after, was and is tortured, afflicted, pined, consumed, wasted, and tormented, against the peace of our sovereign lord and lady, the king and queen, and against the form of the statute in that case made and provided. "Witnesses: MARY WALCOTT, SARAH VIBBER, MERCY LEWIS, ANN PUTNAM, ELIZ. HUBBARD. "Indorsed by the grand jury, _Billa vera_." Three other similar indictments accompanied the above, for witchcrafts practiced by Burroughs upon Elizabeth Hubbard, Mercy Lewis, and Ann Putnam severally. S. P. Fowler, in the edition of "Salem Witchcraft" edited by him, says, on page 278,-- "The trial of Rev. Geo. Burroughs appears to have attracted general notice from the circumstance of his being a former clergyman in Salem Village, and supposed to be a leader amongst witches." Fowler adds, that-- "Dr. Cotton Mather says he was not present at any of the trials for witchcraft; how he could keep away from that of Burroughs we cannot imagine. His father, Dr. Increase Mather, informs us that he attended this single trial, and says, 'Had I been one of George Burroughs's judges, I could not have acquitted him, for several persons did upon oath testify that they saw him do such things as no man that had not a devil to be his familiar could perform.' "Burroughs was apprehended in Wells, in Maine; so say his children. They also inform us that he was buried by his friends, after the inhuman treatment of his body from the hands of his executioners at Gallows Hill, in Salem. "He is represented as being a small, black-haired dark-complexioned man, of quick passions and great strength. His power of muscle, which discovered itself early when Burroughs was a member of Cambridge College, and which we notice in the slight rebutting evidence offered by his friends at his trial, convinces us that he lifted the gun, and the barrel of molasses, by the power of his own well-strung muscles, and not by any help from the devil, as was supposed by the Mathers, both father and son. Alas, that a man's own strong arm should prove his ruin!" We shall show shortly that this commentator here overlooked an important point. Burroughs himself made statement, in his own defense, that an Indian stood by and lifted the gun; therefore the chief question is not whether Burroughs was himself strong enough to lift it as alleged, but whether he told the truth when he said that he had help. The chief question bears upon his veracity, not upon his strength. The Mathers believed him on that point. The allegations in the indictment were for witchcrafts invisibly practiced upon members of the famous CIRCLE, and not for visible feats of strength. All the girls testified to seeing and suffering from his apparition. Also some who confessed to having been _witches_ themselves (for some accused ones were over-persuaded to speak of their own clairvoyant observations and experiences as witchcrafts, and therefore of themselves as witches),--some such testified thus, as Mather says (p. 279, _Salem Witchcraft_). "He was accused by eight of the confessing witches as being head actor at some of their hellish rendezvous, and who had promise of being a king in Satan's kingdom now going to be erected; he was accused by nine persons for extraordinary liftings, ... and for other things, ... until about thirty testimonies were brought in against him." Mather's account of the witchcraft at Salem was drawn up at the request of William Phips, then governor of the province; and two prominent judges at the trials indorsed it as follows:-- "The reverend and worthy author having, at the direction of his Excellency the governor, so far obliged the public as to give some account of the sufferings brought upon the country by witchcrafts, and of the trials which have passed upon several executed for the same: "Upon perusal thereof, _we find the matters of fact and evidence truly reported_, and a prospect given of the methods of conviction used in the proceedings of the court at Salem. "Boston, Oct. 11, 1692. "WILLIAM STOUGHTON, "SAMUEL SEWALL." Manifestation of one class of phenomena presented at those trials has not been noticed in the preceding pages; viz., the appearance of the spirits of particular departed ones to many of the accusing girls. It is obviously true that those clairvoyants were very much oftener beholders of the spirits of those still dwelling in mortal forms than of those who had escaped from thralldom to the flesh. Still there were then some cases in which the spirits of some who had been known in that vicinity, and whose bodies were moldering beneath its soil, were both seen and heard. Among others, two former wives of Burroughs were named. Mather says (p. 282), "Several of the bewitched had given in their testimony that they had been troubled with the apparitions of two women, who said they were G. B.'s two wives; and that he had been the death of them.... Now, G. B. had been infamous for the barbarous usage of his two successive wives, all the country over. (p. 286.) ... 'Twas testified, that, keeping his two successive wives in _a strange kind of slavery_, he would, when he came home from abroad, pretend to tell the talk which any had with them; that he has brought them to the point of death by his harsh dealings with his wives, and then made people promise that, in case death should happen, they would say nothing of it; that he used all means to make his wives write, sign, seal, and swear to a covenant _never to reveal any of his secrets_; that his wives had privately complained unto the neighbors about _frightly apparitions_ of evil spirits, with which their house was sometimes infested," &c. Some of these allegations probably rested on firmer bases of facts than have generally been perceived. Though we regard Burroughs as having been one of the kindest and best of men, we do not entirely withhold credence from the general import of such allegations regarding him. They point both to extraordinary unfoldments within him, and to probable handlings and control of his outer form at times by some intelligence not his own. "_Strange kind of slavery_" would naturally result, in those days, from a husband's telling his wife, on returning to his home, what conversation she had held with others during his absence, _if his statements were true_; but if not true, the wife would only laugh at his pretensions, and make no complaints to neighbors. If both true and oft repeated, such mysterious utterances might well enslave, worry, and bring close to death's door a sensitive wife; and the husband, however affectionate and kind, may at times have been as powerless to shape his course of procedure as is the dried leaf when whirled onward by strong autumnal breezes. Acts not his own the world would hold him responsible for; and no wonder that, in his age, a spiritualistically unfolded, an illumined man, and one also whose form might be moved, as was that of Agassiz, by will not his own, should strive in all possible ways to prevent wives, and any other people who knew them, from revealing any of his peculiar and marvelous _secrets_; no wonder that he sought to make his wives "write, sign, seal, and swear" never to do it; because the noising abroad of such powers as he possessed, and such performances as were attendant upon him, if publicly known, would be profaned, would destroy his usefulness, and endanger, if not take, his life. Thanks that, in our day, danger of a hangman's rope does not threaten one because of his high spiritual illumination. George Burroughs was graduated at Harvard College in 1670; had been a preacher for many years prior to 1692, and, during some of them, ministered to the people at Salem Village. But before the outburst of witchcraft there, he had found a home far off to the north-east, on the shores of Casco Bay, in the Province of Maine, where he was then humbly and quietly laboring in his profession, but not in impenetrable seclusion. Clairvoyants are masters of both seclusion and space to a marvelous extent. Throughout a region far, far around, wherever the special light pertaining to the mediumistic or illuminated condition revealed its possessor and put forth its attractions, there the opened inner vision of the accusing girls might make them practically present. Emanations from one residing at Falmouth or at Wells might readily meet and blend with those from sensitives at their home in Salem. Thought flies fast and far. With equal speed, and quite as far, can the unswathed inner perceptives of an entranced or illumined mortal be attracted. Old memories and undissolved psychological attachments may have operated in this case. One of the accusing girls had lived for a time in the family of Burroughs while he resided at the Village. Chains of association are never broken and rendered forever unusable, though they often become exceedingly attenuated, and cease to retain recognition in our ordinary conditions. Several of the accusing girls alleged that Burroughs was one, and a leading and authoritative one, in the band of apparitional beings from whom their torments came. He was "cried out upon," arrested, tried, condemned, and executed. The opinions of different writers as to the real character and worth of this man have been very diverse. While some have accounted him an hypocritical wizard, others have deemed him a man of beautiful and beneficent life. Mather regarded him with aversion, and says, "Glad should I have been if I had never known the name of this man." Afterward the same author charged Burroughs with "tergiversations, contradictions, and falsehoods." Sullivan, in his History of Maine, says, that "he was a man of bad character, and of a cruel disposition." Hutchinson asserted, on insufficient grounds, that when under examination, "he was confounded, and used many twistings and turnings." But Fowler says, "All the weight of character enlisted against him fails to counteract the favorable impression made by his Christian conduct during his imprisonment, and at the time of his execution." Calef says, that, the day before execution, Margaret Jacobs, who had testified against him, came to the prisoner, acknowledging that she had belied him, and asking his forgiveness; "who not only forgave her, but also _prayed with and for her_." The same adducer of "_Facts_" states that, "when upon the ladder, he made a speech for the clearing of his innocency, with such solemn and serious expressions as were to the admiration of all present; his prayer (which he concluded by repeating the Lord's prayer) was so well worded, and uttered with such composedness and such (at least seeming) fervency of spirit, as was very affecting, and drew tears from many, so that it seemed to some that the spectators would hinder the execution. _The accusers said the black man stood and dictated to him._ As soon as he was turned off, Mr. Cotton Mather, being mounted upon a horse, addressed himself to the people, partly to declare that he (Burroughs) was no ordained minister, and partly to possess the people of his guilt, saying that the devil has often been transformed into an angel of light; and this somewhat appeased the people, and the executions went on." His prayers, and his whole deportment and spirit during these last trying scenes, indicate his possession of a calm, strong soul, which bore him, on the wings of innocence and piety, into a region of serenity which his traducers and murderers were unfited to enter and knew not of. The brief account which Upham's researches enabled him to furnish of this man's life prior to the witchcraft mania presents still further evidences of his sterling worth. That author says, "Papers on file in the State House prove that in the District of Maine, where he lived and preached before and after his settlement at the Village, he was regarded with confidence by his neighbors, and looked up to as a friend and counselor.... He was self-denying, generous, and public-spirited, laboring in humility and with zeal in the midst of great privations." Land had been granted to him, and when the town asked him to exchange a part of it for other lands, "he freely gave it back, not desiring any land anywhere else, nor anything else in consideration thereof." Scanning Burroughs as well as accessible knowledge of him now permits, we judge that he was a quiet, peaceful, persistent laborer for the good of his fellow-men,--a humble, trustful, sincere servant of God,--a rare embodiment of the prevailing perceptions, sentiments, virtues, and graces which haloed the form of the Nazarene. Why did the people of his time take his life? What were the accusations against him? In addition to the testimony that he was felt by many of the girls as a tormenting specter, he was accused of putting forth superhuman physical strength. Cotton Mather says,-- "He was a very puny man, yet he had often done things beyond the strength of a giant. A gun of about seven feet barrel, and so heavy that strong men could not steadily hold it out with both hands, there were several testimonies given in by persons of credit and honor, that he made nothing of taking up such a gun behind the lock with one hand, and holding it out like a pistol, at arm's end. In his vindication he was _foolish enough to say that an Indian was there, and held it out at the same time_; whereas, none of the spectators ever saw any such Indian; but they _supposed_ the black man (as the witches call the devil, and they generally say he resembles an Indian) might have given him that assistance." That paragraph is very instructive. All subsequent historians, beginning back with Calef, have mentioned, what is no doubt true, that Burroughs was a small man, and yet was constitutionally very strong--was remarkable for physical powers even in his college days; and they have fancied that on that ground they have satisfactorily accounted for his marvelous exploits; they seemingly overlook the fact that it was Burroughs himself, and not other people, who said that "an Indian," invisible to others, stood by and held the gun out. Historians have explained the good and true man's seeming physical feats at the expense of his _veracity_. Heaven help the innocent when in the hands of such traducing commentators. The question is not what Burroughs could have done unaided, but it is whether _he told truth_ when he said an Indian helped him. His whole character and life argue that he would not have spoken as he is alleged to have done, unless he had been conscious of the presence of an Indian within or by himself, putting forth, in part at least, the strength which raised and supported that heavy gun. He said that such was the fact. What though all spectators failed to see the Indian? It was a disembodied Indian--a spirit Indian--and therefore necessarily invisible by external eyes. The non-perception of him by other men standing by is no evidence that the spirit Indian was not there; for spiritual beings are discernible by the inner or spirit optics alone, and not by the outer; so taught Paul. The fact that bystanders supposed the devil helped Burroughs, or performed the lifting feat through him, implies that they, as well as he, believed that something more was done than mere human strength accomplished. In the present day, when spirits are very often putting forth strength through forms of flesh which executes performances quite as marvelous as any which were alleged to have been enacted through Burroughs, his assertion that a foreign, hidden intelligence worked within and through his form, conjoined with the belief of beholders that some spiritual being was operating therein, any array of facts now, proving, even to perfect demonstration, that the little man was enormously strong, though it may indicate that he did not require foreign aid to lift and hold out the gun, does nothing toward impeaching his own veracity when he said he had help. Surely one _can_ have help in the performance of what he could do alone. If any man says he had help in a particular case, his ability to have performed the special feat alone affords no indication that his statement is untrue; and yet the spirit of witchcraft history implies that it does. Prove Burroughs to have been constitutionally as strong as the strongest mortal that ever lived,--yes, as strong as the strongest of all created beings,--ay, as strong as the Omnipotent One himself, and even then you have done nothing which shows or tends to show that another intelligent worker may not have co-operated with him in the performance of marvelous feats. We say again that the question raised by his statement is not whether he, in and of himself, was competent to his seeming feats, but it is whether an Indian spirit did or did not help him. Burroughs says he had help from such a one. Bystanders supposed that the devil helped him; but he who sensed the helper's presence called him an Indian; and he was a much more trustworthy testifier as to that helper's proper classification in the scale of being, than a combined world of men devoid of spirit-vision, putting forth only their inferences regarding an unseen personage. Imputation of this man's liftings to his constitutional strength solely is an imputation of false testimony to the truthful man himself, and historic arguments, if valid, make him a liar. Who helped the little clergyman lift and hold the heavy gun? He says it was "_an Indian_." But Mather says, "none of the spectators ever saw any such Indian; but they _supposed the black man_ (as the witches call the _devil_, and they generally say he _resembles an Indian_) might have given him that assistance." That sentence illumines many a dark spot in our ancient witchcraft. The witches, or clairvoyants, whether accusers or accused, were not accustomed to speak of seeing _the devil_. It is fairly questionable whether any one among them ever spoke of seeing _the devil_, or of having any interview with _him_, or knowledge of _him_ obtained by personal observation. It was _man_ whom they saw. They spoke of the black _man_. Mather says that was their name for _the devil_. We doubt it. What they saw failed to present a semblance of Cloven-foot, with horns, tail, and hoofs, and did not suggest to them an idea of _the devil_. The substitution of devil for black man, or the regarding the two as synonymous, was Mather's work, and not that of the clairvoyants. And who was _the black man_? Mather informs us that those whose optics could see him "generally say he _resembles an Indian_." If he resembled an Indian, is not the inference very fair that he was an Indian? Yes. "Black man" obviously was applied by clairvoyants to designate any Indian spirit, and spirits of human beings probably were the only spirits whom their inner vision ever beheld. Thanks to you, Mather, for recording that explanatory sentence. The devil you fought against was your brother man--was earth-born--and when seen and conferred with not very formidable. Your clairvoyants, or witches, saw and heard occult men, women, children, beasts, and birds, but never spoke of seeing your ecclesiastical devil. The human beings whom they beheld varied in size from little children to tall men, and in complexion from black to white--even up to glorious brightness. Your informants never used the word _devil_ in their descriptions. You misreported them, as Cheever did Tituba; Calef followed your lead, and subsequent historians have copied from both you and him. You also state that Burroughs was "_foolish_ enough to say that an Indian" helped him. Was it foolish in him to state the truth? Your own witnesses en masse say his helper _resembled_ an Indian--he said the assistant _was_ an Indian. Why didn't you take the words of your own witnesses as corroborative of the man's statement? They surely were so, and they give us a true presentation of the case. The reason of your course is obvious; the creed of your times deemed any spirit visitant or helper to be the devil himself. A subsequent charge against "G. B." (George Burroughs) was, that "when they" (the accusing girls) "cried out of G. B. biting them, the print of his teeth would be seen on the flesh of the complainers; and just such a set of teeth as G. B.'s would then appear upon them." As in the case of little Dorcas Good, here we have it charged that indentations on the flesh of complainants corresponded to the size and shape of the teeth belonging to the person who was accused of biting. If G. B.'s spirit-form or apparition was made to approach and bite the accusers,--and it probably was,--his spirit-teeth would naturally, and, as we apprehend, necessarily have the exact size and form of his external ones. Another charge is embraced in the following quotation:-- "His wives" (he had buried two) "had privately complained unto the neighbors about frightly apparitions of evil spirits with which their house was sometimes infested; and many such things had been whispered among the neighborhood." We have previously quoted but did not comment upon the above which relates to the appearance of apparitions. That statement may as well indicate that the wives themselves, or any other persons resident in his house, were the attracting or helping instrumentalities for producing the "frightly" sights, as that Burroughs himself was, provided only that some one or more of them were mediumistic. But the probabilities are, that the elements emanated from him which rendered such presentations practicable. His telling the purport of talks held in the house during his absence indicates that his inner ears were opened to catch either the spirit of mundane sounds, or sounds made by spirits, as could those of Margaret Jones, Ann Hibbins, Joan of Arc, and many others. The same power in him is indicated in the following extract:-- "One Mr. Ruck, brother-in-law to this G. B., testified that G. B., and he himself, and his sister, G. B.'s wife, going out for two or three miles to gather strawberries, Ruck, with his sister, the wife of G. B., rode home very softly" (slowly) "with G. B. on foot in their company. G. B. stepped aside a little into the bushes. Whereupon they halted and hollowed for him. He not answering, they went homewards with a quickened pace without any expectation of seeing him in a considerable while. And yet, when they were got near home, to their astonishment they found him on foot with them, having a basket of strawberries. (Philip was found at Azotus.) G. B. immediately then fell to chiding his wife on account of what she had been speaking to her brother of him on the road. Which when they wondered at, he said he _knew their thoughts_. Ruck, being startled at that, made some reply, intimating that the devil himself did not know so far; but G. B. answered, My God makes known your thoughts unto me." True and luminous fact! The humble, pious, intelligent, illumined Burroughs, far-looker into the realm of causes--an observer of things behind the vail which bounds the reach of mortal senses and pure reason--stated that _God_--not the devil--made known to him the thoughts of other and absent people. In other words, his intended meaning probably was, that God's worlds and laws provide for legitimate inflowings, to some minds, of knowledge of the thoughts and purposes of other minds, even though far distant in space. The character, or rather the actual qualities of this man, if we read him correctly, were truthfulness, humility, and piety. When such a one deliberately said to a brother-in-law, under such circumstances as stated above, "_My God makes known your thoughts unto me_," he indicated his consciousness of possessing self-experienced knowledge of the existence of an instructive and momentous fact pertaining to human capabilities. Only few persons, relatively, have had proof by personal experience of the extent to which the inner perceptives of embodied mortals may reach forth and imbibe knowledge by processes common to freed spirits, and in the realms of their abode. What the unfoldings of Burroughs permitted him to do and know is possible with many others while resident in mortal forms. If he could, some others may, come into that condition in which thought itself shall be heard speaking itself out to them, in which they shall be listeners to "_cogitatio loquens_"--self-speaking thought--which Swedenborg says abounds in spirit spheres; in which thought from supernal fonts shall make itself known to the consciousness of an embodied man, and become matter of knowledge with him. Others, and more in number, may have the inner ear opened and hear the words of spirits. With ears competently attuned, the meek and truth-loving Burroughs was occasionally able to receive not only knowledge of the thoughts of mortals in ways unusual, but also, as we judge, to receive spiritual truths copiously from purer fountains than his cotemporaries generally could get access to; and he thence obtained such truths as relaxed in him many credal bonds which firmly held most of his cotemporary preachers to the creeds, forms, ordinances, and customs common in the churches then. Many questions put to him at his trial were, obviously, designed to draw forth evidence of his lax regard for and inattention to the accepted ordinances of religion. He admitted both that it was long since he had sat at the communion table, and that some of his own children had not been baptized. We presume that he was inwardly, wisely, and beneficently prompted to walk somewhat astray from the narrow and soul-cramping paths then trod by most New England clergymen. The spirit of the Lord was giving him more liberty than most of his cotemporaries felt privileged to exercise. Using his greater facilities than theirs for instruction in heavenly things, he probably advanced far beyond his brethren generally in sinking the _letter_, that is, sinking the forms, and ceremonies, and ordinances of religion beneath its divine spirit, and his less illumined brethren suspected him of an abandonment of religion itself, and of alliance with the great enemy of all goodness. Some among them apparently looked upon him as a combined heretic and wizard, withheld all sympathy from, and exulted over the doom of, this double culprit. But this victim may have been, and probably was, as high above most of his crucifiers as freedom is above bondage, as the spirit above the letter, as light above darkness, as sincerity above hypocrisy. The blood of such as Martha Corey, Rebecca Nurse, Mary Easty, GEORGE BURROUGHS, and probably many others who in company with these took their exit from life shrouded in witchcraft's blackening mists, may go far toward making Gallows Hill a Mount Calvary--a spot on which zeal urged on the worse to crucify their betters in true godliness--betters in all that fits immortal souls for gladdening welcome into realms above. SUMMARY. 1648. MARGARET JONES manifested startling efficacy of hands and medicines, consternating keenness of perceptives, predictions subsequently verified, and the presence of a vanishing child. Such was her witchcraft; and for this she was executed. 1656. ANN HIBBINS comprehended conversation between persons too distant from her to be heard normally, ... and was hanged. 1662. ANN COLE had her form possessed and spoken through by either the devil or other disembodied ones, and by them made both to express thoughts that never were in her mind, and to further the conviction and execution of the Greensmiths. 1671-2. ELIZABETH KNAP'S external form was strangely convulsed and agonized by an old man, and also spoken through by one who called himself a pretty black boy. 1680. WILLIAM MORSE, in his home, where lived his good wife, who had been called a witch, saw pots, andirons, tools, and household furniture generally, seem to take on wills of their own, and rudely play many a lively gymnastic game. 1688. JOHN GOODWIN saw four of his children subjected and tortured immediately subsequent to the scolding of one of them by a wild Irish woman; and the same one afterward was made to play the deuce in Cotton Mather's own house. Mrs. Glover was hanged for bewitching; and also she _continued to torture the same children after her spirit had left its outer form_. The above cases occurred prior to the holding of "The Circle" at Salem, before the establishment of a school at which the arts of "necromancy, magic, and spiritualism" might be learned. Generally the performers named thus far had no visible confederates. If sole actors, their geniuses were vast, and the fonts of malice or of benevolence in some of them were both very capacious and copiously overflowing. 1692. TITUBA, the slave, avowed having been forced by something like a man, and his four female spectral aids, to pinch the two little girls in her master's family at the very time when they were first mysteriously afflicted. She furnished strong evidence that a tall man with white hair and serge coat, invisibly to others, frequently visited her, compelled her aid, and kindled and long kept adding fuel to the fires of witchcraft at Salem Village. For this she was imprisoned thirteen months, and then sold to pay her jail fees. SARAH GOOD was seen as a specter, was accused of hurting by occult organs and processes; became invisible by those standing guard over her; announced to the magistrates the great explanatory fact that none but the accusers and the accused, that is, none but clairvoyants, could see the actual inflictors of the pains endured. Also she fore-sensed a fact that occurred when Mr. Noyes died in an after year. She was hanged. DORCAS GOOD, not five years old, was big enough to have her specter seen, to have her spirit-teeth bite, and also to see clairvoyantly. The little witch was sent to jail. SARAH OSBURN was sighted by the inner optics of the accused, and she heard voices from out the unseen. This feeble one was sent to jail, and soon died there. MARTHA COREY was charged with afflicting; also she avowed heresy pertaining to witchcraft. Though interiorly illumined far beyond her accusers and judges, and enabled to smile amid their frowns, she was executed. GILES COREY, seen as a specter, and accused of harming many, would make no plea to his indictment. Pressure, applied for forcing out a plea, extorted only his call for "More weight, more weight,"--and his life went out. REBECCA NURSE, venerable matron, daughter of a mother who had been called a witch, and conscious of personal liability to then prevalent fits, was seen by, and accused of hurting, members of The Circle. Therefore she must be hanged--though jury first acquitted, and then, under rebuke, called her guilty; and though governor pardoned, and then revoked his clement act. Fealty to witchcraft creed in that case triumphed, though nearly defeated twice. MARY EASTY, noble woman, sister of the above, and daughter of the same witch-blooded mother, once arrested and discharged, and then re-arrested, because seen by inner eyes and accused of bewitching, rose sublimely above thoughts of self and dread of death, and appealed to the magistrates, in clear, strong, and forceful language, to change their course of procedure, to spare the innocent, and become wisely humane. SUSANNA MARTIN, spectrally seen, and a reputed witch during more than a score of years, bravely faced the dangers besetting an accused one, was self-possessed before the magistrates, was spicy, shrewd, and keen in her answers to their questions, but failed to descend to confession, and died on Gallows Hill. MARTHA CARRIER, having been a clear seer for forty years, and long visible by others similarly unfolded, was brave, self-possessed, and ready with pointed retort. Because hard to subdue, accusations came thick and heavy upon her from "The Circle" almost _en masse_, and she too was doomed to mount the ladder. SARAH CARRIER, daughter of the above, eight years old, stated instructive facts in her experience as a clairvoyant, and notably said that her own _spirit_ could go forth to others and hurt them; also that her mother's was the only spirit with which she entered into the compact that made her a witch. REV. GEORGE BURROUGHS, sometimes supernally strong physically, because, as himself asserted, an Indian, invisible by others, helped him; able, by God's help as he claimed, to read his brother's thoughts; A freer and less formal religionist than most clergymen of his day, because of his high spiritual illumination; a humble but beneficent Christian--was, like his exemplar, made to yield up life at the call of such as cried, "Crucify him! crucify him!" If he was luminous, and spoke like an angel of light in the hour of his departure, he was not Satan transformed, but George Burroughs unvailing his genuine self. 1693. MARGARET RULE, the first of afflicted ones noticed in our pages, endured her strange experiences last. The evening before her fits came on she had been bitterly treated and threatened by an old woman whose curings of hurts had put her under suspicions of witchcrafts. Margaret was not a graduate from the Salem school, but was self-taught, if taught at all; and yet she saw many specters--saw, in the night, a young man in danger of drowning who was miles away from her; was lifted from her bed to the ceiling above in horizontal position by invisible beings; fasted nine days without pining; and saw and heard one bright and glorious visitant who comforted and heartened her much. She under the special watch and care of Cotton Mather, was held back, mainly perhaps by his advice, from any divulgences which should endanger the lives of others. No blood was shed because of her afflictions. Twenty persons were put to death in Essex County, by the direct action of government officials, between June 9 and September 23, 1692. Nearly or quite two hundred were accused, arrested, imprisoned, and many more than the executed twenty were convicted. Numerous arrested ones perished under the hardships of prison life and gnawings of mental anxieties. Others had health, spirits, domestic ties, and worldly possessions shattered to pieces, and the condition of their subsequent lives made most forlorn and wretched. Neither tongue nor pen can possibly tell their tale in its fullness of horrors. Most excessively frenzying and woeful must have been the privations, sufferings, heart-wrenchings, agonies of nearly all the scattered residents of the then wooded region at and round about Salem Village, when Christendom's mighty and malignant witchcraft devil was believed to be prowling and fiercely slaughtering in their midst. No blood, nor any other mark, on the door-posts would effectually warn the fell destroyer to pass by and leave the occupants within unscathed. Mysterious and fearful dangers flocked above, below, around, before, and behind: they lurked here, there, and everywhere continually, so that none could ever be at ease. And now we ask, whether common sense admits that such credulity and infatuation ever pervaded any hardy, energetic, and intelligent community, in any county of Massachusetts or New England, in any age, as that girls and old women, aided by a very few insignificant men, however bright, cunning, roguish, playful, self-conceited, greedy of notice, or resentful and malicious the leaders might be, could possibly so perform as to induce Rev. Mr. Whiting, Samuel Willard, William Morse, Cotton Mather, Deodat Lawson, Samuel Parris, Rev. Mr. Hale, and scores upon scores of other intelligent, sagacious, and leading men, to present to the public, in writing, such narratives as they did, and to essentially vouch for their own belief in the positive occurrence of such "amazing feats" as they described? We ask also, whether such frail enactors as a band of mere girls and a few women must have been, could possibly devise and manifest such tricks, and put forth such accusations, from any motives whatsoever, as would cause the leading minds throughout a large section of the state to regard the accused ones as allies of beings rising up from regions of darkness, and making malignant and most baneful onslaught upon the children of God and Christ, and upon the families and possessions of men, in such numbers and with such force, that the civil power of the land was urged and helped to put the gallows in use upon every one whose specter was said to be seen and to torment? The amazing feats are well attested. The more amazing deviltries both of the accusers and of courts and executives, no one can doubt, if all the feats were offspring of mere juvenile and senile cunning, fraud, and malice. In the cases of Margaret Jones, Ann Cole, Elizabeth Knap, John Stiles, and Martha Goodwin each, there is distinct mention of the presence, the speech, or the action of some spirit. We found Tituba distinctly stating that she saw, heard, and was made to help a nocturnal visitant whose doings indicate that he was the originator of the vast Salem Tragedy: that visitant was a spirit. Mr. Burroughs said, in explanation of his feats of strength, that an Indian, invisible by others, was his helper. Margaret Rule, as had Mercy Lewis the year before, saw, and each was infilled with bliss by, a most glorious bright spirit. In our own day, in every city, town, and hamlet of our land, as well as on the opposite shore of the Atlantic, spirits are widely recognized as the authors of performances alike strange and amazing in themselves, as those described in the seventeenth century, which are there called witchcrafts. The primitive records of American witchcrafts show that portions of it, and especially that Salem witchcraft feats, were devised in supermundane brains, and enacted under their supervision. THE CONFESSORS. When persons arraigned for specific offences plead guilty, their pleas generally are deemed conclusive evidence that the accused have performed the special deeds set forth in the allegations. Many of the accused in witchcraft times made statements which have ever since been called _confessions_. Inference from that has long been general and wide-spread, that nearly such witchcraft as the creed of our fathers specified had positive manifestation in their day. But we seriously doubt whether any record of statements made by an accused one exhibits distinct admission that he or she had entered into covenant with that devil which one must have been in league with to become such a witch or wizard as the laws against witchcraft were intended to arrest. Such confessions as were recorded may have been true in the main, but they fall short of confessions of the special crime alleged; they amount to little, if anything, more than admissions and statements that the confessors had seen, been influenced by, and had acted in company with apparitions or spirits all of whom were of earthly origin, and were members of the _human_ family; they confessed only to being, or to having been at times, clairvoyants. The circumstances under which even such confessions were generally made, need to be carefully viewed before just estimate can be placed upon the worth and significance of the recorded statements. Hutchinson supposed that "those who were condemned and not executed, all confessed their guilt," ... and that "the most effectual way to prevent an accusation" (of one's self) "was to become an accuser." Strange--strange--and yet obviously true. An accused one, then, could look for escape from death--the legal penalty of witchcraft--only by pleading guilty to the charge. Confession of guilt, and nothing else, then, purchased exemption from capital punishment. This becoming obvious, all natural instincts for preservation of one's life, and all possible entreaties, urgings, and commands of friends and relatives, forcibly tended to extort confession even from the innocent. Husband or wife, children, parents, brothers, sisters, and trusted advisers, often all conspired in urging an accused one to plead guilty--yes, even a condemned one, for that plea was as efficacious after conviction and sentence as before. It is said that many did confess. Confessed to what? Never to having made a covenant with the great witchcraft devil nor any formidable imp of his, but generally to clairvoyant visions, to mental meetings with the specters of friends, neighbors, and other embodied mortals, and to some compacts and co-operative labors with such personages,--_never with the devil_. They did not confess to witchcraft itself _as then defined_. The clear-headed Mary Easty besought the magistrates "to try some of the confessing witches, I being confident there is several of them has belied themselves and others." Her clear and calm brain perceived the broad distinction existing between clairvoyance and witchcraft. So, too, did Martha and Giles Corey, Jacobs, Proctor, Susanna Martin, George Burroughs, and others; these, and such as these, did not confess, while many weaker and more ignorant ones did. Little Sarah Carrier, only eight years old, whose testimony we adduced in part, when presenting the case of her mother, throws much light upon some _confessions_ of that day. _Simon Willard_, who wrote out and attested to "the substance" of her statements, heads his record, "Sarah Carrier's _Confession_, August 11th." The girl's confession? No; it was simply a frank statement of facts in her own experience, which lets us know that when she was about six years old her own mother made her a witch, and baptized her. But "the devil, or black man, was not there, as she saw," when she was made a witch. She afflicted folks by pinching them; went to those whom she afflicted; but went only "_in her spirit_." Her mother was the only devil who bewitched her, and the only being whom her baptism bound her to serve. Such was her witchcraft. That plain statement is refreshing and valuable. It shows that when about six years old this mediumistic girl had become so developed that her spirit could commune with her mother's, independently of their bodies. She then became a conscious clairvoyant, and could trace felt influences, issuing from her mother, back to their source. Thenceforth mother and daughter could conjointly place themselves on the green at Salem Village, ten miles off, or in any pasture or any house whither thought might lead them. The mother's stronger mind had but to wish, and the child must go with her and do her bidding; and when the two were in rapport, any stronger spirit controlling the mother could make the child co-operative in pinchings or any other inflictions of pains. Because the little girl had set her hand to a red book presented by her own mother, and thus, by implication, bound herself to be obedient to that mother, her statement of the fact was labeled _a confession_ of witchcraft, and deemed damaging to her mother. Three or four other children of Mrs. Carrier were able to sense spirit scenes. Her home was a domestic school of prophets, and her own children were apt pupils in it. Her moral character and influence do not here concern us. Abigail Faulkner was condemned, and two of her children, "Dorothy ten, and Abigail eight years old, testified that their mother appeared and made them witches." That mother was daughter of Rev. Francis Dane of Andover, some of whose other children and grandchildren were accused, which suggests, though it fails to prove, that much medianimic susceptibility was imparted through either him or his wife, or both, to their offspring. His descendants attracted the notice of clairvoyants. Hutchinson states that Mr. Dane himself "is _tenderly_ touched in several of the examinations, which" (the tenderness?) "might be owing to a fair character; and he may be one of the persons accused who" (the accusation of whom) "caused a discouragement to further prosecutions." "He," being then "near fourscore, seems to have been in danger." Internal luminosity and copious radiations from their interior forms probably rendered Rev. Mr. Dane, Rev. Samuel Willard, Mrs. Hale, wife of the minister at Beverly, Mrs. Phips, wife of the governor, and many others of high character or standing, visible by mediumistic optics, and presentible apparitionally where spirits were wont to congregate, consult and manipulate instruments for acting out--not for learning--the "wonders of necromancy, magic, and Spiritualism." Witch meetings, as they were called, or congregated spirits or apparitions on the green, or in the pasture of the minister at Salem Village, are mentioned more frequently and with more particularity and concordant specifications, than would naturally be looked for if they had no basis on fact. That Spirits in vast crowds have more than once been seen in modern times by a seer looking up from High Rock in Lynn, can be learned by perusal of A. J. Davis's visions there. But he was the observer of departed ones only, while the apparent personages at witch meetings of old were partly either the spirits of embodied persons or their apparitions. The fact of apparitions being present thereat in those days proved the persons themselves apparitionally seen to be the devil's allies. Some confessors of witchcraft intended to verify the truth of their statements by describing whom they had seen, and what they had observed at such meetings. And it is not without interest that some people now read confessions like the following from Ann Foster of Andover, viz.: "That she was at the meeting of the witches at Salem Village when about twenty-five were present; that Goody Carrier came and told her of the meeting and would have her go, and so they got upon sticks and went the said journey, and being there did see Mr. Burroughs the minister, who spake to them all;... that they were presently at the Village," when they rode on the "stick or pole"; and that she heard some of the witches say that there were three hundred and five in the whole country, and that they would ruin that place--the Village. Also that there was present at that meeting two men besides Mr. Burroughs, the minister, and _one of them had gray hair_. Not without interest are such things read, because they prompt to fancyings of things possible in an unseen sphere which hangs over and enfolds all mortals. Could Ann Foster's gray-haired man have been Tituba's white-haired visitant--the originator and enactor of Salem witchcraft? Who knows? Could not he and such as he have searched out and numbered many persons in the land who were adapted to be facile instruments for his use, and found three hundred and five in all? Had not his will power to call instantly together, that is, to arrest and concentrate the attention of as many of them as were at the moment impressible by him, either directly or through other plastic mortals, from any part of the region between the Penobscot and the Hudson, or even further, and thus collect a band, that is, arrest and fix the attention, of twenty-five of them, more or less, to whom inklings of his plans for the future might be given, and whose relative rank, efficiency, or importance could be foreshadowed? Through either unconscious apparitions or conscious spirits of mortals, or of both classes commingled, might he not enact scenes which it pleased him to have certain witnesses behold, and to proclaim, so far as he judged best, his purposes, his doctrines, or aught else it should be his pleasure to divulge or enforce? Possibly. Those witch meetings may have been much more than mere fictions. We will look now at other and quite different confessions, or rather at what reputed confessors afterward said in explanation and defense of their own admissions. Six well-esteemed women of Andover conjointly subscribed to the following account:-- "We were all seized, as prisoners, by a warrant from the justice of the peace, and forthwith carried to Salem. And, by reason of that sudden surprisal, we, knowing ourselves innocent of the crime, were all exceedingly astonished and amazed, and consternated and affrighted even out of our reason. And our nearest and dearest relations, seeing us in that dreadful condition, and knowing our great danger, apprehended there was no other way to save our lives, as the case was then circumstanced, but by our confessing ourselves to be such and such persons as the afflicted represented us to be: they" (our friends), "out of tenderness and pity, persuaded us to confess what we did confess. And indeed that confession, that it is said we made, was no other than what was suggested to us by gentlemen, they telling us that we were witches, and they knew it and we knew it, which made us think that it was so; and our understandings, our reason, our faculties almost gone, we were not capable of judging of our condition; as also the hard measures they took with us rendered us incapable of making our defense; but said anything and everything which they desired, and most of what we said was but, in effect, a consenting to what they said. Some time after, when we were better composed, they telling us what we had confessed, we did profess that we were innocent and ignorant of such things.... "MARY OSGOOD, ABIGAIL BARKER, MARY TILER, SARAH WILSON, DELIVERANCE DANE, HANNAH TILER." That document no doubt describes very accurately the mental condition and pressing circumstances under which a very large number of the confessions were made. There existed some cases, however, which differed from the above. Samuel Wardwell, represented in some accounts as insane, confessed, and afterward recalled his confession, and was executed. Margaret Jacobs, perhaps under pressure and bewilderment as great as those attendant upon the Andover women, made confession, in which she accused both her grandfather and Mr. Burroughs; but compunctions of conscience forthwith came over her, and she most fully and humbly recalled her confession, choosing rather to die on the gallows than not to confess and repent before the God of truth. THE ACCUSING GIRLS. One more case--not of an accused one, but of a chief accuser, Ann Putnam, the younger--merits careful attention. She was only twelve years old in 1692; but was the eldest child in a family of at least nine children, both of whose parents died while they were all young; and this eldest continued to live at the homestead, caring for the younger ones, during many years. In August, 1706, fourteen years subsequent to the scenes in which she was eminently conspicuous, she made the following confession before the church, and thereupon was admitted to membership in it. "The confession of Anne Putnam, when she was received to communion, 1706. "I desire to be humble before God for that sad and humbling providence that befell my father's family in the year about '92; that I, then being in my childhood, should by such a providence of God _be made an instrument_ for the accusing of several persons of a grievous crime, whereby their lives were taken away from them, whom now I have just grounds and good reason to believe were innocent persons; and that it was a great delusion of Satan that deceived me in that sad time; whereby I justly fear I have been instrumental, with others, _though ignorantly and unwillingly_, to bring upon myself and this land the guilt of innocent blood. Though what was said or done by me against any person I can truly and uprightly say, before God and man, I did it _not out of any anger, malice, or ill-will to any person_, for I had no such thing against one of them; but what I did was ignorantly, being deluded by Satan. And particularly as I was a chief _instrument_ of accusing Goodwife Nurse and her two sisters, I desire to lie in the dust, and to be humbled for it, in that I was a cause, with others, of so sad a calamity to them and their families; for which cause I desire to lie in the dust, and earnestly beg forgiveness of God, and from all those unto whom I have given just cause of sorrow and offense, whose relations were taken away or accused. (Signed) ANNE PUTNAM. "This confession was read before the congregation, together with her relation, August 25, 1706; and she acknowledged it. "J. GREEN, _Pastor_." In that confession she speaks very pointedly of herself as having been used as an _instrument_. Any mortal may perhaps properly do so in relation to each and every act performed. But her history induces inquiry whether Ann was not very strictly an instrument; whether her own will, or whether some other intelligent being's will, used her lips when they put forth accusations of witchcraft. The latter may have been possible; for once, while we were in conversation with a lady who applied disparaging remarks to particular gentleman who was a prominent medium, we, in reply, expressed our belief that the doings which annoyed her were not the man's voluntary acts, and also that his consciousness that such deeds were alleged by truthful and trustworthy persons to have actually been performed through his physical organism made the acts even more grievous to him than to any one of his acquaintances. She doubted, while we maintained, the possibility of one's mortal form being thus subjected to a will outside of itself. Not many minutes had elapsed--not much argument having been presented on either side--before her own lips were set in use for putting forth a warm defense of Victoria C. Woodhull, a person upon whom our colloquist looked, and of whom she was accustomed to speak, with very decided disapprobation. She was a conscious listener to the words that rolled from her own lips, and experience taught her that our defense of the censured man might be admissible; for, in spite of herself, her own lips were made to bless whom her sentiments were inclining her to curse. Baalam _could_ not curse whom his Lord did not. That lady is a _conscious_ medium--conscious that her physical organs, without her consent, and in spite of her resistance, are sometimes temporarily borrowed and used by an intelligence outside of herself. As such she is representative of many others. Of course, in these days, she is so informed as to see that actions and words of spirits are imputed to her as being her own because performed by use of her organs, while they are, in fact, no more hers than are the acts and utterances of her neighbors. But we doubt much whether any one in 1692 or 1706 had attained to knowledge that some human forms could be thus filchable and usable; no ground had then been discovered on which one could stand and credibly say, "Though my own lips spake thus and so, another's will put forth the utterances in spite of me." Firm ground for that has now been found; it is not a new formation, but existed, though then unknown, in 1692. Ann Putnam's form may have been used by another's will in each and all of her imputed accusations for witchcraft, and she, as far as then concerned, have been absolutely a will-less _instrument_. There are other classes of mediums. We call to mind at this instant four ladies, all of them respectable and excellent, whom we know and have known for years, whose lips often give utterance to facts, opinions, and beliefs while the ladies are absolutely unconscious; and sayings then which seem to be theirs are often wide at variance with what either their knowledge or their sense of right and truth would permit their own wills to announce. These are _unconscious_ mediums; not responsible for, because absolutely ignorant of, what their physical forms are being made to say and do. These persons are representatives of a large class of good mediums. One phrase in Ann Putnam's confession indicates to us that she probably belonged to the mediumistic class here presented. She had been, years before, as she says, an _instrument_ not only ignorant, but _unwitting_. In childhood, Ann was brightest among the bright; and, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, it is fair to presume that when reaching the age of twenty-six she was an intelligent woman, capable of knowing the fair import of any statements to which she gave deliberate and solemn assent. We apprehend that her confession was drawn up very carefully, and in consultation with her intelligent and excellent pastor, Rev. Mr. Green; also that every word of it was carefully weighed. She seems then to have been stretching forth a hand soliciting acceptance and friendly grasp by representatives of some whose blood had been shed because of accusations from her lips; and we feel forced to presume that then she was in mental and affectional moods which would make it her duty and her choice to take upon herself all the blame for her share in the witchcraft transactions which facts and truth could possibly permit. Her confession is special. It all pertains to her _instrumental_ share in accusing innocent persons of what was then deemed grievous crime, and thus in bringing them to death upon the gallows. Her declaration is as distinct as words can make it, that the doings through her were "not out of any anger, malice, or ill-will to any person" on her part; and this renders Upham's supposition, that family, neighborhood, and sectional quarrels, disputes, rivalries, &c., were motives in her, very improbable. Also her statement is very distinct, that whatever she did in that respect was done, so far as she was concerned, both "_ignorantly_ and _unwittingly_." We are aware that those two words are sometimes used synonymously, or very nearly so. But when the first occurs in a carefully constructed sentence, the other, if added, should be deemed to have been inserted for the special purpose of expressing something beyond what the first usually imports. The whole had not been told when she had said she acted ignorantly. To express the remainder, she added--_unwittingly_. When that word was thus applied, she cannot fairly be supposed to have meant less than that she acted _unknowingly_--that is, without either knowledge or consciousness that she did thus act. An _unwitting_ instrument--an instrument not knowing that it was being used--enfolds within itself a silent but most potent plea for the world's lenient regards. When consciousness has taken no cognizance of acts performed by the tongue or the hand,--when memory can find no record of them, compunction cannot gnaw deeply, nor conscience be a stern accuser. Often conscience may be at peace, and God may approve, where man blames. Testimony from without may force mental conviction that one's lips and limbs must have been used in doing excessive harm, though consciousness of the fact be entirely wanting. Conviction even thus generated will naturally and almost necessarily create apprehension that the world is regarding the owner of those lips and limbs as having been guilty of very great crimes. That apprehension may create sadness over all one's subsequent days. Public opinion bridles the tongue then; for a denial of guilt, however honest and true, can receive no credence where external senses have perceived knowledge to the contrary. Ann's relations to society may necessarily have been saddening during many years, even though she of herself had done nothing offensive either to her own conscience or to God. Imagination can scarcely picture the sadness which must have come upon the accusing girls when, a year or two later, public opinion and favor, which at first buoyed them up and favored such use of their organisms as has been depicted, began to turn against them and to brand them as murderers of the innocent and good. We have no means to trace many of them through their subsequent years. Could we do it, we should expect to find them weighed down, depressed, and made forlorn by the great change of estimation in which the doings were afterward held, in which they had appeared to be prominent and most disastrous actors. Few of them probably had inherent stamina enough to enable them to stand erect, and move about firmly poised, under the burdens of obloquy, pity, hatred, resentment, &c., which the wounded hearts of the families of murdered ones would lay upon these seeming authors of their losses. It is pleasant to find that the sensitive and bright Ann Putnam, as prominent as any one in the band of accusers, survived such pressure, continued long to care for her orphaned little brothers and sisters, and, after the first and most crushing effects of the change in public opinion had been endured for a dozen years or more, held out her hand in friendly beckoning to those who had most seeming cause to blame her, and who perhaps in turn had imposed her heaviest burdens, and seeking to thus open the way for her unopposed admission to the church, and to fellowship with the kindred and friends of those whom her tongue had been used to defame and bring to ignominious death. Her life experiences were hard, but perhaps fruitful of good to man beyond what words can express. Possibly it is her blessed privilege now to see that her form was used as an _instrument_ for effecting Christendom's emancipation from monstrous error, and putting an effectual stop to executions for witchcraft everywhere. THE PROSECUTORS. The first warrants for arrest for witchcraft at Salem were issued on February 29, 1692, on complaint preferred by Joseph Hutchinson, Thomas Putnam, Edward Putnam, and Thomas Preston, that Sarah Good, Sarah Osburn, and Tituba had by witchcraft, within the last two months, done harm to Elizabeth Parris, Abigail Williams, Anne Putnam, and Elizabeth Hubbard. Complaint of Martha Corey was made by Edward Putnam and Henry Keney, March 19. Edward Putnam and Jonathan Putnam complained of Rebecca Nurse; and Jonathan Walcott and Nathaniel Ingersoll, against Elizabeth Proctor. Perusal of the records shows that very many of the most intelligent, influential, highly respected, and trusted men of the Village were complainants; and shows also that, as early as February 29, when the first complaint was entered, there were four afflicted ones: two in the family of Mr. Parris; one in that of Thomas Putnam, living more than two miles north from the parsonage; and one in that of Dr. Griggs, dwelling more than two miles east from the same. Thus much had the trouble spread before the law was invoked to aid in its suppression. The homes of the minister, the doctor, and the parish clerk--a capable and good-one, too--were the first invaded. Not mean abodes housed, nor low-lived people cared for the first afflicted ones. Men of the highest standing there were leaders off in the impending conflict with the devil. Two were most prominently and persistently active, viz., Thomas Putnam and Mr. Parris. And why? If any people then and there knew what the emergency required, these two would be among them: none were more competent than they to perceive and perform the duties of such an hour. They, too, and theirs were the chief sufferers. No other active men there had motives pressing as theirs to work for prompt relief in their households; and we will notice these two as representatives of the prosecutors. Thomas Putnam deservedly held high position among the inhabitants there, and possessed the esteem, respect, and confidence of the whole community around him. How came it that this very intelligent, influential, and useful citizen, then a little more than forty years old and in the full vigor of manhood, was prominent among the foremost and most pertinacious prosecutors? Why was such a one an enterer of complaints against neighbors, whether high or low, good or bad? Our response is, that in his home a loved and loving wife, cultured, refined, and of acute sensibilities,--a daughter, twelve years old, bright and charming,--and also Mercy Lewis, a young domestic, were all so mysteriously tortured at times, that no doubt existed in a mind which comprehended the creed of that day, that the devil was author of the abnormal torments. That enemy must be getting access to these innocent and loved ones, the creed said, through some neighbors--at least some living mortals--who had made covenants with the Evil One, and thus become his agents. Imbued and bound by the creed of his day, this husband and father could cherish no expectation that his wife and child could be shielded, or that comfort, tranquillity, and peace could come to him and his dear ones, so long as such covenanters were allowed to live. His creed--the general creed of the times--called upon him to invoke the law's aid, since by help from no other source could he hope to reclaim wife, child, and domestic from the clutches of hell's sovereign, and save his own fireside from continuing on indefinitely a frenzied pandemonium. The higher his manhood, and the deeper his love for wife and children, the more vigilant, resolute, and untiring would be his purpose and his efforts to use any and every available means for delivering his family from the hell which had been thrust in under his roof. The sufferings of his dear ones, then necessarily operative upon his mind and affections, we presume were the chief prompters of his course and incentives to his perseverance in it. Defense and protection of wife, children, and all within his household are incumbent on any one worthy to be called a _man_. Think not the worse of Thomas Putnam because of his resolute purposes and speedy as well as prolonged efforts to rescue from sufferings and perdition wife, child, and domestic. Because a prominent sufferer, he became a prominent prosecutor--yes, the most prominent. Though that fact stands boldly out on the pages of history, no one in his time or since, so far as we have noticed, ever imputed to him an unworthy motive, or annexed a disparaging epithet to his name. Perhaps he, as well as Mr. Dane of Andover, was "tenderly touched" because of "a fair character." In part the same can be said in defense of Rev. Samuel Parris as we have adduced in defense of his co-sufferer and co-laborer for relief. During the weeks from January 20 to the end of February, both his little daughter and niece, under his own roof, were so strangely and sorely tormented that he and his whole household must have been wearied, agitated, and rendered miserable. When medical aid and kind nursing had proved abortive, and medical authority announced the working of an _Evil Hand_ there, who can wonder, knowing the creed of the day and place, that Mr. Parris sought the law's aid for bringing relief to the little sufferers and to all beneath his roof? Samuel Parris and Thomas Putnam, the minister and the clerk of the parish, were both the first and the greatest sufferers affectionally at the oncoming of invasion by mysterious tormentors, and both have fair claims to be judged of tenderly in their connection with witchcraft prosecutions. The chief apparent action of the minister was as scribe or reporter for the courts, and this because he was more competent to that work than any other person obtainable there. Such action is surely not censurable. His position and abilities, however, were such that it was quite as much within his power to have stopped the whole proceedings as in that of any man then living; and they, no doubt, had his sanction and efficient support. And yet we find no ground from which inference either must or can fairly be drawn that the motives of the minister's actions _pertaining to that special matter_, both at its commencement and in its subsequent progress, were other than those common to the most enlightened and best members of the community. Still we have not learned to like the _man_. Selfishness, and disposition to rule harshly over his parish and individuals, if not resentfully and even maliciously, are made too manifest in the records for us to hold him in high esteem. As servants of God and Christ, which they professed and believed themselves to be, the prosecutors entered upon and long followed up war, bloody war,--not against neighbors and men, but against the Devil--the great enemy of God, Christ, and all good Christians. They were true, earnest, resolute, strong, fearless men, waging their fight in good conscience. The community at large, in which those men lived and held prominent position, was not below most, if below any other of equal numbers on the continent. Intellect there was keen, and morality high. Upham's "History of Salem Village," admirable for its research, its thoroughness, its prevailing accuracy, and its extensive charms, clearly shows that the five hundred people, more or less, residing there in 1692, could scarcely be surpassed by the residents of any other locality in intelligence, mental keenness, moral strength, personal courage, and firmness of purpose and resolve to live up to their convictions of truth, right, and duty. Salem witchcraft was born in the homes of intelligent, brave, honored men,--who, in co-operation with their wives, children, and domestics, contributed to its growth, and elicited its vast and awful power to startle, frenzy, and desolate the region round about. The world at large has never been kept well instructed as to the circumstances amid which that great _delusion_ made its entrance on the field of human vision, nor as to the high standing, intelligence, and character of its first escorts and sponsors. Its victims, too, as a whole, were very respectable. Some of them, it is true, were not high on the social scale, but the most of them were well up, and quite a number ranked high among the intelligent, virtuous, and saintly. The wide-spread and long prevalent notion that the dark doings there were little else than outgrowths from tricks played by a few artful and mischievous girls upon some low-lived and bed-ridden old women, has no foundation on the facts in the case. This most monstrous child of Christendom's creed had begetting and birth, in 1692, amid as reputable circumstances and people, and as religious opponents of Satan, as any marked revival of religion which has anywhere transpired since that memorable day when the leading men of Salem Village, being challenged to defense of their homes, armed themselves with civil law, and bravely, long, and forcefully fought for God and His against the Devil. WITCHCRAFT'S AUTHOR. What personality or persons, and of what rank in the scale of being, was or were primal and chief in originating and enacting the famous Salem Tragedy? If, as the generation then living believed, it was a specially great controller and commander of all invisible foes to God, Christ, and Christians everywhere, and who, having been effectually baffled in Europe, resolved to keep America from passing into the control of his enemies, God and Christ, and to thoroughly banish the hated intruders from these his more exclusive and prized domains; if it was that being, his strategy seemingly was to "beard the lion in his den," to make bold and fierce attack on one of the strongest fortresses of Christians, presuming that capture of such a post would lead to easy expulsion of all trespassers from the whole of his broad lands on this side the Atlantic. His apparent policy, judged of by the place and circumstances of attack, was to subdue the strongest first, and thus so intimidate as to frighten all others back to their former homes or the homes of their fathers. But _such_ a devil was not there. Many beliefs prevalent two centuries ago are now obsolete. Such a devil as witchcraft was imputed to, and who was believed to put forth greater power over all Indian and heathen lands than God exercised there, receives cognition in few brains to-day. Nevertheless, faith in the presence, power, and malignity of such a being, present and at work among them, was the main force that enabled his contestants to unwittingly put an end to faith in the existence of any one special foe to all goodness, whose power and dominion over the earth and its inhabitants very nearly rivaled those of the Omnipotent One, and whose malice was a near counterpoise to complete supernal benevolence. Reason demands that the creature shall be inferior to its creator, that devil shall be less than God; and she in most persons refers all things and all events, in the ultimate analysis of causes and agents, back to One Great Over-Soul--one God. If an all-wise and omnipotent One, being full of mercy too, proposed to subject an erroneous and enslaving human creed to a strain which should shatter it past restoration to strength, and thus to set its subjected holders free, highest wisdom may have seen that bright intellect, true courage, firm nerves, unfaltering devotion to sense of duty, and strong faith heavenward, were needful instrumentalities for best accomplishment of the design. The abode of people than whom none elsewhere were better prepared, more able, or more willing to fight the devil himself promptly, unfalteringly, and persistently, may have been a spot where supernal prescience saw that men, as blinded instruments, could best be made to effect their own and the world's emancipation from a time-hardened and disastrous public error. The mental and moral strength, and other good _fighting_ qualities of its occupants generally, may have caused the Village to be fixed upon as the most favorable battle-ground available for the projected struggle. Neither God nor the devil, however, was author in any sense pertinent to the present inquiry. Our _ifs_, and the sentences which follow them, cannot meet the demands nor the needs of modern readers. Faith, in direct personal action upon either individual human beings or communities and nations by any incomprehensibly vast and ubiquitous intelligent being either malignant or benevolent, is not as prevalent now as it was in many generations past. God, or a mighty devil either, as constant, immediate, and personal performer on humanity's stage of operations, is not extensively recognized by the deep thinkers of our age. Indeed, modern thought has come very low down in its search for witchcraft's author. Turning from God and the devil, the reputed workers of great marvels in ages long past, our interpreters of America's earlier wonders have fancied that they find the former existence of little girls whose powers to sway the human mind and agitate a land, so approximated those of omnipotence, and whose malignities so perceptibly equaled his of Cloven Hoof, that they of their own wills concocted and enacted scenes of simulated pains, distortions, losses of sight, hearing, and speech; and also mimicked the movements of birds and beasts, and performed such impositions and tricks innumerable as made their homes and neighborhood a horrid pandemonium; in doing which they manifested such prodigious power, skill, and perfect acting, that these little untaught and untrained ones outled in skill, all the world's most expert tricksters, and, in malignity, the most devilish human monsters our world ever contained, in any age or land. Somewhere between the extremes of strength and weakness, of benevolence and malignity, we perhaps can find beings more likely to have directly produced the marvels in question than either God, devil, or little girls. Consciousness and experience indicate to most persons that an all-dominating power exists, and bounds and hedges in the spheres of freedom and ability which are occupied by finite beings. Something above and beyond all finites says to each of them, "Thus far, but no farther, canst thou go." Within spheres thus limited there abide many grades of intelligent and affectional beings, ranging in differences of powers and dispositions as widely as any mortal's thoughts can conceive. Vast, countless hosts of intelligences, though vailed from our outer vision, may be, and evidences are very strong that such ever are abiding dwellers above, below, around, and in the midst of earth's corporeal inhabitants. Within their unperceived abodes such ones may actuate the forces which evolve many less marked events, as well as all special providences, special judgments--miracles so called, and such marvels generally as were formerly imputed to either God or the devil as _immediate_ author. We have no faith that either of the two had any closer or more special connection with witchcraft matters than with the ordinary doings of man. The undefinable source of all things which are contained in the vast creation, emitted all forth subject to laws, and surrounded and infiltrated by forces which enable the world's progressing inhabitants, visible and invisible, to purchase, through study, toil, absorptions from enfolding auras, and other furnished helps, both knowledge and powers just as fast and great as their advancements and growing needs from time to time call for more light and for augmented powers. Finite beings naturally gravitate to where every instrumentality needful to their highest well-being can be obtained by the co-operative efforts and aspirations of finites, seen and unseen, for learning laws and manipulating forces which pervade their places of residence. Generations upon generations, whose mortal forms long centuries ago moldered away, may still be active laborers in and about the men of to-day, and may be, and may always have been, the immediate manifesters of all supernal intelligence and marvelous force issuing from regions which the eye of flesh lacks power to scan. One of the old prophets of a prior generation made known to John the Revelator what he recorded; and agents of like nature, that is, departed human spirits, may have been the only revealers of supernal truths, facts, and visions to man, and the only workers of the signs or extra-marvelous manifestations of force and knowledge which have been deemed credentials from the Omniscient and Omnipotent. We believe in God and in the issuance of knowledge and force from him to man, but have not faith in his immediate personal putting forth of either, in accomplishment of such events as are often called special providences. Such events occur--they often come both uncalled for and in response to prayer--to yearnings "uttered or unexpressed;" but the prayers and yearnings reach, stimulate, and help both ambient forces and ascended spirits to let in or to confer the needed protection or restoration. The air all around us is alive with hearers of prayer, and no humble and fervent aspiration for help to come forth from the mystic abodes of spiritual beings and occult forces ever fails to bring aid and elevation. The purer and humbler the aspiration, the nearer does it penetrate toward the Great Source of being, life, and bliss, and the more powerful and beneficent are those whose responses and emanations can reach and aid the petitioner. The same forces and laws which permit the sensible action of good spirits among men, just as freely and extensively permit the presence and action of malicious ones. God aids the good and restrains the wicked just as much and no more on the other side of the grave than on this. Freedom, whether to comply with or to contend against either natural or moral law, is as great in spirit spheres as in our midst on earth. Any spirit, either benevolent or malignant, is as free to use the forces and laws which permit spirit manifestations, as any navigator is, be he morally good or bad, to avail himself of winds, currents, tides, and the like, for passing over seas to a land not his own, and acting out his characteristic purposes there. Our position, fortified by the facts and reasonings in the preceding pages, is, that spirits--departed human beings--generated and outwrought Salem witchcraft. That is our answer to the question of its authorship. THE MOTIVE. Thus far questions pertaining to the character of the main motives operating in the authors of acts called witchcraft, have purposely been avoided. The actors and their doings have been sought for, irrespective of morality. But the _cui bono_, the what good? must have been asked over and over again by the reader. Why did any intelligent being, whether mortal or spirit, thus woefully invade and disturb the homes of able, honored, worthy Christian men? and especially why perpetrate such agonizing cruelties upon bright, lovely, and promising children? The spirit-world, as well as ours, holds inhabitants differing widely one from another in character, tastes, propensities, and occupations--it contains yearners to recommune with surviving kindred at the old material home--contains its rovers, its explorers, its scientists, its seekers after novelties, facts, and principles; after new places, scenes, and peoples to visit; after new routes and appliances for travel, and after new applications of known powers and forces. The motives for acting upon and through mortal forms may vary from worst to best, from best to worst. The moral character of motives can neither invalidate nor confirm what has been adduced. The motives, having been either good or bad, may be ascribed to spirits as well as mortals, and to mortals as well as spirits, for both good and bad beings dwell in mortal forms now, and both classes have left their outer forms behind, and passed into the abiding-place of spirits--have become spirits, and that, too, without necessary alteration of their moral states. Motives in different cases and with different operators were doubtless quite varied. Correct presentation of their qualities in connection with the several cases adduced in the preceding pages is obviously beyond our power. Though conscious that we must probably be mistaken in some instances, we yet are willing to state some of the thoughts which facts and appearances have suggested. Perhaps no unseen intelligences aided or acted through either Margaret Jones or Ann Hibbins; and, if any did, their performances in and of themselves were never perceptibly harmful to the public. We apprehend, however, that if the whole truth were known, man would now see that kind physicians, who had bid farewell to earth, continued to practice the healing art through the brain and hands of Margaret Jones. The users of Ann Cole's vocal organs furnished no distinct indication that they were either specially benevolent or the reverse. We are constrained to regard them as having been low, ignorant, willing to excite consternation among men, and very willing to help the lewd Greensmiths on, by the halter's use, to speedy entrance into conditions in which themselves could confer with these debased ones more familiarly than was possible while they remained encased in flesh. Such a view need not imply that they were malicious. Desire to hold closer connection with one's affinities is natural, and not necessarily bad. Communicators from the other side of death's portals generally decline to call any spirits _bad_; they speak of many as being low, ignorant, benighted, undeveloped, &c., but seldom call any one bad. They seem to regard many much as we do green fruits. One omits to call the half-grown apple bad, however sour or crabbed, and says only that it is immature, unripe, &c., implying that, though in its present condition not good to eat, time may come when it will be palatable and nutritious. Elizabeth Knap's visitant--the one to whom she said, "What cheer, old man?"--who presumably was the chief operator through and upon her form, and lingered about her for at least three years, we regard as a sort of recluse spirit, who kept mainly aloof from other disembodied ones, and found his chief enjoyment in retaining or resuming as close alliances as possible with the outer or material world, and from a selfish desire to secure permanent possession of this instrument, strove through torturings to reduce her to subjection; and this, perhaps, without desire to injure her, but mainly with a view to gratify his own selfishness. The other one--the pretty black boy--of a more lively disposition, found pleasure in playfully bantering the grave clergyman, and probably strove, in playful mood, to teach the honest and good man some lessons in charity and demonology. We see no reason why he may not be regarded as a genial good fellow, desiring to make some gloomy portion of mankind more cheerful and happy. At Newbury there possibly was nothing more than a playful and self-gratifying exercise of constitutional powers by a band of spirit gymnasts--not malicious, but playful and rude; curious also, it may be, to see how far they might be able to frighten mortals and arouse consternating wonder, while they should be pleasurably exercising their own faculties. We view them as neither specially good or bad, but as heedless and rude in their frolic. Appearances are different when we look at the Goodwin family. There an embodied old wild Irish woman's spirit was the first to put forth psychologizing power over the children. She was moved by anger, or resentment, or both; her guardian or kindred spirits no doubt helped her, and from motives like her own. Perhaps we may properly call both her and her aids bad. Yet we hear no call to apply that word emphatically. Little Martha had just charged the old woman's daughter with having stolen some of the clothes which the latter was employed to wash; and, if that charge was false, or even presumed by the old woman to be false, she, who was obviously fiery and ignorant, may not have been excessively diabolical in using any process of mental or emotional retaliation which was at her command. Perhaps ignorance and instinctive retaliation were quite as operative in her as malice. Martha's form, subsequently, when she was residing with Cotton Mather, was often used by one or more spirits who seem to have been bent upon showing the learned man that sport might exist and be enjoyable beyond the confines of mortal life, and that denizens there were disposed to make some at his expense. They soon showed him that linguists unseen could comprehend his meaning, whatever the language he might use for expression of his thought; and also thumped the sectarian by disdaining to read books which he approved, and by reading with ecstatic delight such as he condemned. Nor was this all; they exhibited in his presence feats of strength and agility, and many marvelous antics, which were suited to cause a thinker and scholar to hold on to his belief that others than the guileless miss took part in the performance of such marvels. While amusing themselves, they were exhibiters of instructive facts. Nothing bad in their purposes becomes apparent. The case of most special interest and chief importance pertains to Salem. Upham, vol. ii. p. 429, says, "If there was anything supernatural in the witchcraft of 1692, if any other than human spirits were concerned at all, one thing is beyond a doubt; they were shockingly wicked spirits." _Beyond a doubt?_ Perhaps not in some minds. But if any disembodied spirits whatsoever, even _shockingly wicked ones_, were mainly performers of the convulsing operations at Salem, the historian's theory of explanation is not only baseless, but is lamentably cruel and unjust toward the human instruments through whom the spirits acted. If specific doings prove their authors, if spirits, to have been shockingly wicked, the same having mortal authors, would prove the latter to have been just as shockingly wicked. We do not like to apply that defamatory phrase to all those girls and women who are set forth as the chief accusers. Were all those youthful females shockingly wicked? We hope not, and think not. God rules alike in the invisible and visible world, and often moves in mysterious ways for executing benevolent designs. The motive of Tituba's "tall man with white hair," whom we regard as prime mover in the most momentous witchcraft scene the world has ever witnessed, is difficult to comprehend satisfactorily. The deliberateness indicated both by his visit to Tituba five days in advance of practical operation, and by his then appointing a special time and place for entering upon his intended processes, bespeaks a definite and abiding motive of some marked quality. Judging from the earlier and more perceptible effects of his doings, the world must almost necessarily regard him as a deliberate tormentor of innocent children; as a disturber of domestic, social, religious, and civil peace; as an immolator of the innocent and the virtuous; as hell's sovereign acting out his fiendish pleasure upon the inmates of a Christian fold. Infernal malignity, at the first glance, seems to have actuated this intruder at the parsonage. World-wide experience, however, has learned that many things are "not as they seem." We have been taught to recognize One being, and there may be many others in spheres unseen, in whose sight "a thousand years are as one day." Teachings of history and observation show that the overruling power is attended and guided by far--very far--reaching prescience; and also that many of man's greatest blessings are educed from temporal evils of vast magnitude. The malice of man nailed Jesus to the cross. What wears every appearance of wicked motive is often used as helpful, if not needed, instrumentality in procuring man's deliverance and redemption from debasement and oppression. When John Brown made his raid across the border line of freedom, not only the invaded South, but a large portion of the North regarded him as a ruthless and malicious invader of the rights of our fellow-countrymen, and therefore worthy of a felon's doom. A cannon soon sent to Fort Sumter the comments of the South upon what Brown had done, and war, carnage, and horrors of varied forms and vast dimensions soon spread over the broad nation, from the St. John to the southern gulf, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific. John Brown was no felon, no malicious invader, but a philanthropic planner to strip the chains of slavery from four millions of his brother men; and his step, though a seeming evil then, led directly on to the emancipation of all for whose good he went forth in seeming malice. When plagues of various kinds were invoked and brought upon the Egyptians by and through the mediumistic Moses and Aaron, what Egyptian would have deemed that the motives of the unseen intelligence who counseled and controlled them could be benevolent? Plague, pestilences, and sore afflictions for a long time, and finally death of the first born, were imposed upon each Egyptian household. The motive to those inflictions is deemed to have been deliverance of the children of Israel from bondage. Egyptians being judges, it must have been a shockingly wicked spirit who acted upon them through Moses and Aaron. History, on most of its pages, shows that war--war,--that ruthless trampler upon the innocent scarcely less than upon the offending, has ever been a very common, if not the chief, instrument by which oppressed people have gained deliverance, and through use of which the depressed have come up to higher stand-points. If our world has, through all its past ages, been wisely and beneficently managed by some intelligence higher than man, then far-reaching wisdom--supernal wisdom--has often seen that the good of the many--nay, the good of _all_--required the coming of suffering, sacrifice, and anguish upon the few. Has the Great Permitter of the many sufferings which war has engendered been "shockingly wicked"? The chains of old enslaving errors often become invisible and unfelt by those on whom they were early placed by a mother's kindly hand, and the like to which all associates wear as supposed helps, and never as suspected hindrances, to expansion and health of mind and heart. Nothing short of a most strenuous conflict--nothing short of a struggle for life and all that makes life valuable and dear--is competent in some cases to awaken perception that such chains are and ever have been cramping their wearers, and holding them back from such expansion and freedom as their Maker fitted men to attain to and enjoy. We regard the witchcraft creed as having been such a chain. Looking carefully at the methods by which the power that overrules all terrestrial affairs has almost invariably led man to break away from thralldom and oppression, can one reasonably entertain belief that any purely peaceful measures, any preachings, arguments, appeals to the reason of men, could have brought Christendom, at any time after the twelfth or thirteenth century, to perceive that its witchcraft creed was enslaving its mind, and thwarting its proper expansion heavenward? We apprehend not; and also we surmise that in 1602 supernal intelligence saw that opportunity and power existed, which, if then availed of, could put mortals into a conflict which would reveal to them the inherent falsity and barbarity of the witchcraft creed, and thus let such light into their minds as, in time, would lead them to cast off the chains in which they were bound, attain to clearer and more accurate views of their relations to God and the spirit-world, and rise to higher and freer manhood. If such were the case, we can readily conceive that supernal wisdom and benevolence might permit and foster the oncoming of an appalling and terrific struggle which should bring into vigorous action man's every latent energy, sweep away in its course many erroneous beliefs, hampering customs, and ruts of thought, and thoroughly overturn much which had long been deemed immovable truth. Such a course might be the most beneficent possible, even though it involved destruction of the comfort, peace, and lives of many innocent and most estimable inhabitants at the place and vicinity where the battle should be waged, and that, too, whether the war itself should be the ostensible offspring of revenge and malice, or a brave conflict for preservation of one's altars and fireside in peace. Some amusement, and little else perhaps, may be furnished by presentation of what a spiritualist's fancy, prior to careful study of facts narrated by Tituba, had become accustomed to deem not only possible, but probable. She was a slave dwelling among oppressors of her kindred and race--oppressors of the negro, the Indian, and of those generally who were "guilty of a skin not colored like their own," and of worshiping gods different from their own. What more natural than that departed ones, whom the whites had defrauded, injured, and oppressed while dwellers here, and whose surviving kindred were still being treated in like manner, should embrace an opportunity which the mediumistic qualities and the abode of Tituba furnished, for perpetrating retaliation whence woes had been received? True Christian morality may denounce such action as being "shockingly wicked," but the more prevalent morality in the world--in the more resolute portions of it at least, and especially in the less enlightened--may be as ready to commend as to condemn it, and to applaud as to censure those whose fire and pluck induced and enabled them to pay over upon their oppressors wrong for wrong, even augmented with interest at the highest rates which their altered circumstances allowed. It having been discovered that Tituba's form was a portal for spirit return, fancy saw the spirits of her ancestral race, and hosts of ascended aborigines of Massachusetts soil, eagerly coming back through her helping properties, disposed and eager to cast their impalpable arrows and tomahawks at any members of the wronging race who might be vulnerable by such weapons. Scouts swiftly and widely spread over the spirit hunting-grounds knowledge of the glorious opportunity for retaliation and revenge which had come, and hosts of volunteers rushed thence with lightning speed to the alluring scene. Quick havoc ensued, and the great consternation, bewilderment, devastation, slaughter, disturbance of peace, and agonizings of terror and awe, which the invasion produced, gave keenest pleasure, satisfaction, and joy to the assailants. Possibly Indian spirits might then begin to cherish hopes of expelling all whites from the land of their fathers, and of re-acquiring and leaving the whole a legacy to red men's heirs. But the whites, not less than the darker-skinned, were under the supervision of spirit guardians, friends, and helpers, who, though probably taken by surprise and at disadvantage, were by no means disposed to leave their wards, kindred, and loved ones to be long thus harassed and abused. Invisible hosts soon mustered, and warred against other invisible hosts over and around the Village; and when the struggle had been waged far enough to sever witchcraft's chains, the laws of the _Highest_ permitted the guardians of the Christians to conquer a lasting peace whose balm would heal the wounds inflicted, and whose fruits would be emancipation from cramping errors, and consequent expansion and elevation of mental powers. As, perhaps, appropriate sequent to our fanciful views, we next present something which was not born in our own brain, and which may or may not be statement of ancient facts. We have devoted but little time to directly seeking information from spirits relating to the subject upon which we are writing, and yet have seldom entered into conversation with any good clairvoyant, at any time during the last year or two, without receiving description of one or more spirits then in attendance, and manifesting desire to have us recognize them. In most cases they have shown their names. In this manner Cotton Mather, more than any other one, signifies that interest in our present work draws him near to us. Mather's mother, also Martha Goodwin, Rebecca Nurse, and others, have presented their cards through persons ignorant that individuals bearing such names ever lived. But Mather has done more. On two or three occasions, using a medium's organs of speech, he has entered into conversation with us upon his connection with witchcraft. He is not now well pleased with his blindness when in his physical form, and urges us to be more severe in our criticisms upon his course than historic facts permit us to be. February 9, 1875, he was in control of a medium, and we inquired as to his present views of George Burroughs. At once and cordially he described Burroughs as one of the brightest of all spirits whom he had seen, and as "illumining whatever sphere he enters." We asked Mather if he had ever learned who the spirit was that came to Tituba and started Salem witchcraft. He had not. Had he met Tituba? "Yes." "Can you not," we asked, "find him through her?" "Probably," was his response; "and will try, if you wish it." "Well, then," we said, "two weeks from this day and hour we will meet you at this place." This was arranged through an _unconscious_ medium, who never receives into her consciousness any knowledge of what her lips utter while she is entranced, and she was on that occasion. We did not inform her, nor did any other mortal than ourself know, that we arranged for a subsequent meeting with Mather. We called upon the medium February 23, when forthwith, in her normal and conscious state, she said that she was then seeing at our side two spirits of very strange aspect, and of race or races unknown to her. One of them she described as a male, uncouth in aspect, having large piercing eyes, a very wild look, and as being clothed in a sort of blouse, beneath and below which were short pants tucked into the shoes; also his teeth were very large. The other was a female of unknown race, and of a race different from that to which the male belonged; her complexion was dark, but she was neither negro nor Indian, and exhibited the letter T. This medium may have known, and probably did, that we were engaged in writing upon witchcraft; but she is not conversant with its history, nor did she know the names of individuals concerned in it, nor the parts any had severally performed. Very shortly after having given the above description, the medium was entranced; soon Cotton Mather, speaking through her, signified that he had brought with him both Tituba and her nocturnal visitant when she was slave of Mr. Parris; also, he stated, that, since they were not accustomed to giving utterance through borrowed lips, he proposed to speak for and of them. The statement relating to the man was substantially as follows:-- "His name was Zachahara; he was of Egyptian descent, but a Ninevite, or dweller in Nineveh. His time on earth was somewhat before that of Moses. Not long after his death, he, a spirit, observed that a spirit by the name of Jehocah--not Jehovah--was working strange marvels, and enacting cruelties among the race from which himself had sprung, through one Moses, and was thereby acting out a spirit's purposes toward man through a mortal's form. At once he, Zachahara, felt strong inclination and desire to exercise his own powers in the same mode. The desire clung to him tenaciously, and ever kept him alert, to find a mortal whom he could use with efficiency rivaling that which Jehocah manifested through Moses. No one of his many trials, however, was very successful until he put forth his skill and power upon and through Tituba. His ruling motive was desire to ascertain how far he, being a spirit, could get and keep control of a mortal form, and what amount and kinds of wonders he could perform with such an instrument. The motive was devoid of either malice or benevolence; it essentially was that of the scientist seeking new knowledge of nature's permissions. To keep Tituba in good humor with himself, he freely made promises to bestow upon her many fine things; and, to please her, he would say and do anything he thought might add to his power over her, and, through her, over other mortals." Such was the account; and, while it was coming upon our ears, it carried us back to familiar accounts of marvels of old, and we felt that the acts of Jehocah through Moses, and those of Zachahara through Tituba, bespoke motives so much alike in apparent barbarity, that, if either actor was blameworthy, it might be difficult to see why equal blame should not be meted out upon the other. Mather, speaking of and for Tituba, said, that "when the man first came to her and sought her service and aid, he was very bright and pleasant; but that, when she declined to comply with his wishes and demands, he became awfully dark and terrible." Briefly, Tituba herself managed the medium's vocal organs, furnished a simpering confirmation of Mather's statement, and said, with a shrug and shiver, "he was awful! awful!" Subsequent conversation at the same seance elicited from spirits their belief, that, as soon as a door of access to men through Tituba was discovered, numerous Indian spirits were able and eager to rush through and lend a helping hand to the old Ninevite, and were devoid of any strong desire to help gently; indeed, they were very willing to molest the whites on their own responsibility. Soon, when unimpassioned search for knowledge of what ability spirits possessed or might acquire to revisit and again act amid terrestrial scenes was too much attended by agents willing to enact, and actually enacting, havoc too severe to be longer tolerated, wise and compassionate spirits brought power to bear which soon put a stop to what was producing most agonizing consequences. Spirits claim that they did much in the way of changing the views of mortals, and preventing a renewal of prosecutions at the next term of court. Perceiving that enough cruelty had been enacted to make mortals ready to ask whether both humanity and God were not belied by the creed Christians were enforcing, they turned the minds of men to more rational and humane views. Some time during the winter of 1874-5, Rev. G. Burroughs having poured out, through a medium's lips, a few sentences redolent with charity and heavenly grace, we asked him what he now deemed the motive which primarily induced some spirit to inaugurate the operations which brought himself and many others to untimely end? His response was, "I suppose it was the natural and proper desire of some spirit to resume communion with its dear ones on earth." No spirit has ever indicated to us a suspicion even that the spirits whose acts evolved witchcraft were either malevolent, censurable, or in any sense _shockingly wicked_. Did supernal prescience select and post agents peculiarly fitted to perform the witchcraft tragedy? Perhaps so: and possibly Sir William Phips was not governor by mere chance. Some statements by Calef indicate that Sir William when young, perhaps while but a learner of ship-carpentry in Maine, received a written communication which led him to go to Europe and obtain means whereby to seek for a wreck, the finding of which brought him fortune and title. He long and carefully preserved the prophetic paper, and, when flush in means, paid the writer of it more than two hundred pounds. From the same or a similar source he fore-learned his becoming a commander, governor of New England, and other events of his life. Information of that kind usually comes to such as are mediumistic enough to be susceptible of guidance, or at least of swayings, by the intelligence from whom the prophecy issues. Sir Phips may have been himself mediumistic. The probable fact that the accusing girls named the governor's wife as one from whom they received annoyance bespeaks probability that she too had place in the class of impressibles. Therefore, one inclined to prosecute such speculations is here furnished with a basis on which to argue that the Infinite Prescience which permitted the advent of Salem witchcraft, also embraced fit instruments in fit position for controlling its course, and also for putting a stop to it as soon as it should have outwrought enough of seeming evil to beget the good which Infinite Benevolence purposed to bestow upon mortals. Spirits take to themselves much credit for the part they performed in changing the opinions and course of the authorities and people here in the autumn of 1692, and the early months of the following year. The adjournment of the court, and no law permitting another session for months, gave opportunity for reflection. Also the actual and contemplated arrests of many of high standing and most estimable character were matters of sobering influence, so that reason resumed its sway; no more were tried for witchcraft, and all prisoners were set free. This may have occurred either with or without special action of spirits upon the public mind. We now regard the primal motive as nearly or quite devoid of moral quality. It probably was either a natural and proper desire to get access to dear ones left on earth, or some experimental or some scientific impulse to test the power which a spirit could exercise over those encased in mortal forms. When, before the days of ether, good Dr. Flag had fixed his forceps firmly on our raging tooth, and given a long, strong pull till out of breath, our pains, our agony, our heavy blows upon his hand and arms, failed to make him let go. He was shockingly wicked at that moment, for he not only held on and kept us in torture, but pulled again without success; and even then he would not let go, but pulled yet once more, and the tooth came out. Spirits, getting access to mortals, may have judged that only through transient evils and sufferings could man get relief from severe chronic maladies, and that, when opportunity occurred, their kindest possible treatment of men was homoeopathic--was the curing like with like--curing evil by inflicting evil. They may have been so shockingly wicked as to do that. Spirits may often, and generally explore and operate from motives not perceptibly different from such as actuate their human counterparts. The devoted vivisectionist seldom shrinks from entering upon, or gives up pursuit of, knowledge because the scalpel agonizes his living subject. So, too, a spirit in pursuit of knowledge--if, either casually or by intended experiment, finding himself controlling the will and organs of Tituba or some other impressible mortal, and thus opening up a new field for exploration--might be strongly inclined to see how far and efficiently he could wield forces of nature so as himself to sway the forms and affairs of embodied men. Each gain in power or skill for acting amid terrestrial beings, scenes, and objects, would naturally thrill him with pleasure, and incite him to follow up researches in the spirit of science. That spirit is prone to look upon sufferings which its own processes occasion, as but temporary incidents, and of little account in comparison with the beneficent results which its triumphs will procure. Extension of their own fields of knowledge and influence was perhaps among the chief motives which prompted spirits to perform the wonders that startled, frenzied, and agonized the subjects and observers of their operations in 1692. Another may have been self-gratification by revisiting well-known scenes; and yet another, beneficence to man by opening for his use a new source of knowledge and wisdom. Realms unseen are the abodes of sympathetic as well as of scientific beings; and as soon as a false creed had been forced to disclose its falsity, the former may have seen occasion to dissuade the latter from acting further upon benighted dwellers in mortal forms, until time should bring man to calm reflection and retrospection, and to possession of such mental freedom as would embolden him to meet unawed, strange visitants from unseen realms, and extend to even such a friendly hand. The lapse of a hundred and fifty years brought such mental freedom to us, purchased by the sufferings of our fathers, that, undeterred by fears of the halter, we now can invite to our earthly homes the loved and saintly ones who have passed on to realms above, hold blissful and uplifting communings with them, and learn their justification of the wonderful ways of God both to and through the children of men and in all nature. Whatever the ruling motive of the chief direct producer of Salem Witchcraft may have been, the resistless power which moves all things, including malignant motives, onward toward the production of ultimate good, caused the fierce conflict we are considering to soon put an effectual stop to prosecutions for witchcraft throughout all Christian lands, and shattered to fragments a pernicious creed which had long enslaved the Christian mind. Costly as that struggle was in pains, sicknesses, tortures, anguish, physical exhaustions, domestic distresses, social alienations, church discords, languishments in prison, fears, frenzies, and even life, the price may not have been high for the wide-spread and abiding blessings of mental freedom which it obtained. LOCAL AND PERSONAL. _Members of the First Parish in Danvers, and all residents on the soil of Salem Village_:-- About three years since it was my privilege to speak briefly concerning the marvels of 1692, on the spot where they transpired. Courtesy then required brevity, and some vagueness of statement resulted: my remarks on that occasion are embraced among the addresses appended to Rev. Charles B. Rice's admirable "History of the First Parish in Danvers, 1672-1872"--a production of much more than ordinary merit. The present occasion is embraced to point out a misprint. On pages 186 and 187 of those bi-centennial offerings, I am made to say that "the little resolute band of devil-fighters here in the wilderness became, though all _unwillingly_, yet became most efficient helpers in gaining liberty for the freer action of nobler things than any creed," &c.--I never cherished a thought so derogatory to them as that they _unwillingly_ became efficient helpers in gaining liberty. My spoken words were, that they _unwittingly_, that is, without knowing it, were being made instrumental in gaining mental freedom, or deliverance from the chains of error; and I believe that a large part of the preceding pages tends to make the truth of my actual statement apparent, while it shows the falsity of the one imputed to me. The soil beneath you long has been and long will be either consecrated or damned to fame; damned, hereafter, if prevalent modern views of former actors there be correct; consecrated, if the ostensible actors be viewed as chosen combatants and instruments on witchcraft's last and most widely renowned battle-field. Many of you know that I first drew breath and also received my earlier training and unfoldment on the soil of your town. My relations to witchcraft soil were not of my own choosing, and I feel no responsibility for them--feel no sense of gratulation, and none of shame, because of them. Still, no doubt, they increase my desire to set forth the merits of former dwellers at the Village as having been as great and noble, and their faults as few and small, as authenticated facts fairly demand; and this not because of anything done or suffered by any one of my personal ancestors, no one of whom, so far as I have learned, was either accuser, accused, or witness in any witchcraft case. There, however, has been transmitted orally from sire to son what possibly indicates that one of them was exposed to arrest. Immediately after the prosecutions ceased, Joseph Putnam, father of General Israel, was a firm and efficient opponent to Mr. Parris's retaining position as minister at the Village. Tradition says that when rage for arrestings was high, he, being then only twenty-two years old, and his still younger wife, kept themselves and their family armed, their horses saddled and fed by the door, day and night for six months. This was preparation for either resistance or flight, as circumstances might render expedient in case an arrest should be attempted there. Opposition to prevalent beliefs, therefore, may not be a new feature in the family history. The heretic to the notions of many to-day, may have had an ancestor heretical to the witchcraft creed in 1692. But if heresy has come by inheritance, charity combines with it; for my heart is gladdened by each newly discovered indication that Joseph's elder half-brother, Thomas Putnam, the great and impartial prosecutor, and Ann, daughter of Thomas the great witch-finder,--also that Mr. Parris and many other former villagers,--never, any one of them, acted any part in relation to witchcraft that was not prompted by devotion to the relief and good of their families and neighbors, or forced upon them by unseen and irresistible agents. Your trusted teachers upon the subject--Upham, Fowler, Hanson, and Rice, all well informed in most directions, and well-intentioned--have severally favored the view that neither supermundane nor submundane agents were at all concerned in producing your witchcraft scenes. Their course throws tremendous and most fearful responsibilities upon both the fathers and daughters of a former age; and not responsibilities alone, but also accusations of deviltry upon the children, and of stupidity and barbarity upon the fathers, which make them all objects of aversion, and a stock from which any one may well blush to find that he has descended. No one of these teachers went back to the commencement of the strange doings, and scanned the testimony of Tituba, that personal participator in them, and the best possible witness. No one of them used, and probably none but Upham had at command, her simple but plain statements, that a spirit came to her and forced her to help him and others pinch the two little girls in Mr. Parris's family, at the very time when their mysterious ailments were first manifested. The keen and exact Deodat Lawson states that the afflicted ones "talked with the specters as with living persons." Mention of spirits as being seen attendant upon the startling works is of frequent occurrence in the primitive records. Therefore, facts well presented and authoritative have been left unadduced by your teachers. They, however, are a part, and a very important part, of things to be accounted for. Any theory of explanation that fails to embrace such is essentially faulty, misleading, and not worthy of adoption. Fair respect for historic facts, and especially for the reputation of those men and young women who were prominently concerned in its scenes, very properly and forcefully demands a widely different and less humiliating and aspersory solution of your witchcraft than such as has been proffered in the present century. My reading in preparation for this work failed to meet with either distinct mention of any meeting of a circle at Mr. Parris's house, or with any statement which had seeming reference to the existence of such a one, till I got down to Upham, who dwells much upon it and its influences, but omits mention of the source of his information. Since the publication of his Lectures upon Witchcraft, many writers have followed his lead. Knowledge of the locality and of the relative positions of the homes of those girls, and of their positions in those homes, is perhaps kept more steadily in view by a writer whose young days, and parts of his manhood, were passed there, than by others not so long familiar with the region; and perhaps he holds firmer conviction that gatherings, with the frequency and to the extent which are claimed, for the purpose of learning the arts of necromancy, magic, and spiritualism, under the roof of such a man as Mr. Parris, were very much nearer to an impossibility, than most others do who have of late had occasion to consider _who_ enacted Salem witchcraft. If current assumptions, that the accusing girls, by study and practice, rendered themselves able to concoct and enact the vast and bloody tragedy imputed to them, and if their own minds and wills were properly authors there,--if the prevalent explanation of witchcraft be much other than fanciful,--then the magical skill and powers, and the brutal acts there manifested, loudly call for admission that wolfish fathers had begotten foxes, and were beguiled and spurred on by their own wily vulpines to commit such horrid havoc as must fix unfading and ineffaceable stain of infamy upon the spot where they prowled. The blackest smooch on the pages of your history was dropped from the pen which virtually made the Village daughters incarnate devils, and their fathers gullible, stupid, and brutal mistakers of what their own girls performed for the marvelous doings of agents possessing more than mortal powers. God save the parish soil from the stain which modern fancy's course tends to impress upon it! Its men were never beguiled and aroused to perpetration of monstrous barbarities by the self-willed actings and words of their daughters. But genuine and mysterious afflictions of their children found the sires ready to fight manfully and unflaggingly for God and the deliverance of their families from mundane hells, and that, too, with such force and persistency as never before was equaled in witchcraft's long history, and with such success that no extension of that sad volume has since been possible. That was most emphatically a time that tried men's _souls_; and the souls then there proved to be brave enough to wage conflict against the mightiest and most formidable of possible enemies, and strong and persistent enough to force him to such struggle as strained his vitals, and paralyzed his power to molest grievously in any future age. The Unique Devil of Witchcraft left that field of fight a Samson shorn of his locks; the source of his strength was there cut off, for the intensely indurated encasement of the delusion which centuries before had begotten him, and had ever since been feeding him abundantly, was then so thoroughly cracked, that its contents went the way of water spilled upon the ground, and he famished. Blush not for the fathers. They were heroes, true to their creed, their families, and their neighbors; true servants of their God--true foes to their devil. And their fight purchased the freedom which lets me now speak in their defense, devoid of any fears of the hangman's rope; and purchased, too, your no less valuable freedom to let me now speak without molestation,--which would be impossible were the creed of the fathers now prevalent, and if you equaled them in devotion to _Faith_,--because then my methods and processes for gaining knowledge would require you to hang either me or those through whom loved and wise ones speak back from beyond the grave, impart their hallowing lessons of experience in bright abodes, and their instructions in righteousness. Thank God yourselves that you hold no creed calling you to perpetrate such barbarity! Hutchinson's statement, that our witch-prosecutors were more barbarous than Hottentots and nations scarcely knowing a God ever were known to be, involves a very significant comment upon the witchcraft creed. That creed made our fathers more barbarous than any tribe of men outside the Christian pale; and were that creed yours to-day, and were you true to it, you would be equally barbarous as they. Their struggle purchased for you and all Christendom exemption from their direful condition. Adopt the view--and we believe it correct--that the accusing girls were constitutionally endowed with fine sensibilities and special organisms and temperaments which rendered their bodies facile instruments through which unseen intelligences acted upon visible matter and human beings, the supposition that God made them capable of being good mediums--good instruments for use by other minds and wills than their own, and that their bodies, either apart from or against their own minds and wills, were concerned in the enactment of witchcraft, and then you may look upon each and all of them as having been as pure, innocent, harmless, sympathetic, and benevolent as any females in that or in this generation; and no descendant from them need fear the cropping out of specially bad and disreputable blood thence inherited, and each may regard his or her native spot as deserving to be consecrated rather than damned to fame, because there true, conscientious men fought manfully and legitimately for rescue of both their own homes and the community from direst of all conceivable foes, while living instruments of rare efficiency existed there, by use of which the Christian world was delivered from dwarfing and hampering slavery to a monk-made devil. What other battle, of any nature, ever fought on American soil, purchased choicer freedom, or effected mental emancipation more widely over Christendom, than did your fathers' conflict with _their_ devil? May the year 1892 deem the spot worthy of a commemorative monument! Your last historian poetically says, that your "witchcraft darkness is a cloud conspicuous chiefly by the widening radiance itself of the morning on whose brow it hung." Shining traits, qualities, and deeds of New Englanders in the seventeenth century, including the dwellers at the Village, no doubt gave widening radiance to the morning of our nation's day; and the abiding brilliancy of that morning may be what makes your "witchcraft darkness" far more conspicuous than any in other lands. But it surely required far other than begulled fathers and begulling daughters to emit the rays of a morning of such widening radiance as would make darkness more conspicuous there than elsewhere. That morning owed its brightness to far other traits than beguiled and beguiling ones. Clear perceptions of the demands of a creed, of duty to God, of duty to one's family; prompt, vigorous action in obedience to God's direction and the king's law when the devil invaded one's home; fearless and untiring conflict with man's most powerful and malignant foe;--these, and other powers, qualities, and acts kindred to these, emitted the radiance which made the blackness of witchcraft more conspicuous at Danvers than elsewhere in the broad world. No. Witchcraft did not rage with most marvelous fierceness, end enact its death-struggle, on your soil because of the weakness, but because of the strength of your fathers; not because of their cowardice, but of their courage; not because of their heartlessness and barbarity, but of tenderness toward their agonized families; not because of lack of faith in God, but because of faith in him so strong that it could put humaneness down, and keep it down till God's call to put a witch to death could be obeyed. Such properties gave to the morning of the Village an inherent brightness which first extinguished witchcraft's dismal day, and now harbingers a brighter one, in which, no civil law molesting, spirits hold mutually helpful communings with mortals. That momentous and most valuable privilege was essentially won on your soil in 1692. Nation after nation, taught by results at the Village, has repealed its obnoxious statutes, and broad Christendom is the freer and more elevated because of light widely radiating forth from your "witchcraft darkness." METHODS OF PROVIDENCE. Our planet, Earth, is yet crude. Its soil, products, emanations, and auras are coarse and harsh. Though meliorated much since it first gave birth to man, it is not now fitted to nurture beings as refined as it will be centuries hence. It is being constantly softened, and is ever progressing toward the present ripened condition of older planets, whose embodied inhabitants easily and constantly commune with wise departed kindred, from whom they receive such instructions and aids as cause them to live in close harmony with the laws of animal health, and therefore nearly free from sickness and pains, and, when ripened for release, to pass painlessly out from their grosser integuments. From the days of remotest history, and our world over, spirits have often been transiently visible and palpable by some mortals. But the atmosphere in which humans live is measurably uncongenial and oppressive to most, and especially to purer and more advanced spirits; still it becomes less so from century to century, is ever gaining such conditions as lift a little higher its incarnate inhabitants, and is less oppressive to those disrobed of flesh. Its modifications prophesy that time will be when mortals and spirits may here more comfortably than now intercommune constantly and with mutual benefit. Terrific mental conflicts--moral tornadoes, agitations to the depths of society, are used as instruments in advancing earth and its inhabitants to states which will permit spirits to be our constantly recognized attendants, and our helpful advisers and guides along the paths of spiritual progression. Progress is hastened through intense tribulations. Great changes and advances of either a material, mental, political, social, or spiritual world are, like births, generally outwrought through anguish and sufferings. Even the entrance of spirits into mortal forms is usually painful to both parties. First and earlier reincarnations are almost necessarily attended by psychological action which forces spirits severally to manifest, and, moderatedly, to undergo, again their special sufferings during their last hours of earth-life. Mortals, too, shrink from, and are agitated by, and afraid of their nearest friends, if disrobed of flesh. Such fears are repulsive forces, making spirit approach arduous and often impossible. The boon of return, in most cases, is at the cost of suffering--but of suffering which pays well--suffering which purchases joy for both those who come and those who welcome them. Our earth and all who are born upon it receive or earn many of their greatest blessings through the sweats of convulsive throes or severe toil. The abolition of a wide-spread obnoxious creed was terrific in 1692. In civilized lands extensively, and especially in Protestant Christendom, possibility of the return of departed good souls from their invisible abodes has for centuries been doubted. Therefore a most copious source of valuable instruction and help has been unused. Resort to it has, or had, become horrific; it has been deemed by men the devil's pool exclusively. But not so by spirits. Wise and friendly ones, unseen, have long and often sought and labored for such recognition and welcome, by survivors on earth, as would render demonstration of spirit presence widely practicable. Spirits have sought this because they have been seeing that free and extensive intercommunings between dwellers in flesh and enfranchised ones might greatly facilitate the advance of both classes in beneficence and happiness. The immense aid which the earth-embodied living, and only they, can give to many unhappy ones whom they call dead, is not yet dreamed of by the public. Knowledge that many departed ones are obliged to get aid from earth ere they can make an efficient start up the ladder heavenward, opens a wide and interesting field of labor to those who have carefully sought to learn the mutual dependences of the seen and unseen worlds. The possible advent of instruction from unseen realms is now for the first time receiving practical demonstration among a people, who, as a whole, are able and disposed to scan carefully the nature and qualities of the intelligences who impart it. Prior to 1692, the Christian world had long been shrinking from conferences with unseen colloquists, deeming all such diabolical in purpose and influence. Ignorance was mother of its fears. The present age, more enlightened, more disposed to investigation, more prone to believe in the reign of law always and everywhere, asks the hidden teachers who they are, and whence and why and how they gain access to our homes. Their responses affirm, and each lapsing year of non-refutation confirms the allegation, that they are spirits now, but once were mortals robed in flesh; and that they come, some from this motive, some from that,--some for fun, frolic, and even revenge and wrong; but more of them to give and to receive the pleasure and happiness which visits to their former homes and friends will generate, and especially to make known to their loved ones here the course of life which will best fit them for joy and happiness in the mansions and scenes of the world to which they all must come. The methods of Providence have ever been homogeneous; and now that they have brought peoples to the dawn of a day when human hospitality is entertaining angels, not always unawares, but often consciously and joyfully, the beneficence of the witchcraft scenes at Salem Village, whereby Christendom's thralldom to a factitious devil was effectually broken up, becomes conspicuous. Lapsed time reveals probability that the barbarisms of that day were availed of as instruments for procuring the freedom which now permits instructive, helpful, and gladdening intercourse between millions of devout and truth-seeking mortals and bright, beneficent spirits. What though the agitation of Christendom brings its latent iniquities and impurities to the surface? What though the counterparts of publicans, sinners, and harlots float numerously into view? Ascent of dross and scum to the surface is usually the first product in processes of clarification. Inexperienced observers are very liable to regard the unsightly stuff as a sample of all that underlies it. Others, who better comprehend the cause and object of bringing impurities into view, observe such first results complacently, knowing that subsequent effects will be most beneficent--will present purified, and therefore more precious views of the divine methods of bringing men to righteousness, and will furnish more efficient helps to man's upward progression than have been generally applicable heretofore. Great reformatory truths have seldom been first offered to or received by the worldly-wise and prudent. Not rulers and Pharisees, but common people, fishermen, humble women, publicans, sinners, and harlots were numerous among the first followers of Jesus; and these were the ones who heard him gladly. Like causes which made it thus of old, operate to-day, and the supplemental revelations and revealers of our time meet with like reception as did those centuries ago. It is well. Wide popularity and affectionate fondling might sap an infant _ism_ of its best health-giving and reformatory powers. Comprehensive wisdom lets it harden and strengthen through buffetings with the leaders of prevalent theological and scientific decisions, opinions, and fashions. The boundless intelligence, which ever acts for good, is patient and long forbearing. It waits for seeds of reforms to take deep root in the masses, and thence, in time, pushes onward the force which overturns dynasties, hierarchies, and all effete institutions, creeds, and customs which are no longer fruitful of food suited to cultured man's existing needs. Savage and barbarous nations, everywhere and always, attain to more or less faith in the presence and help of ancestral spirits; they seek instruction from the departed. Broad and perpetual belief in a particular fact is far from weak evidence of its positive existence. Uncultured minds admit witnessed facts to be positive occurrences, and affect no need to comprehend how they are produced before giving assent to their verity. But the cultured are prone to deny the manifestation of any events whose transpiration is not referable to the permission of some law whose operations are familiar. They cannot account for a fact, and therefore it does not exist, or, as Agassiz said, "it is not in nature." The greatest of human scientists, however, falls far short of acquaintance with all the forces and permissions enfolded within boundless, unfathomable, incomprehensible _nature_. It is dogmatism--not science--which says that facts observed by the senses of man continuously from the birth of his race down to now, have had no positive existence. Law reigns; and we know no law which permits return from beyond the grave; therefore departed spirits cannot revisit their survivors on earth. Such is often the position and argument of theology, science, and culture. But our question to them is, Are you sure that you are acquainted with all the laws, forces, agents, and permissions in the broad storehouses of nature? Have you explored all realms in the universe, and qualified yourselves to maintain that you have definitely learned that no forces anywhere exist by which things anomalous to human science can be manifested to human senses? Practically you say, Yes. And doing thus, you foster and fast extend belief in non-immortality. Are the results of your course to be lamented? Perhaps not. The oozing out and disappearance of an old belief, and a consequent state of non-belief, may be arranged for in the methods of Providence, because the latter state may be the best possible for the induction of belief founded on demonstration, where one previously lived which rested upon dogmatic authority. The skepticism of our generation pertaining to a future life is an offspring of general and advanced education which asks for proofs as the only proper foundation for belief. That education has fitted the thinking masses to demand that teachers shall grapple with and either refute or adopt sensible facts widely witnessed. Millions upon millions of Christendom's inhabitants are having sensible demonstration, day by day and hour by hour, that the spirits of departed mortals make known their veritable presence among their survivors in mortal forms. They say to the world's leading minds,--spirit return is a fact in nature: it is made manifest to our physical senses; we know it to be true. Therefore, ye sticklers for law and scientific methods, prove to us our mistake if we are dupes. During more than five and twenty years we have been putting forth that call, and you have thus long omitted to give any other response than dogmatic assertion that the appearances we witness are the productions of fraud, fancy, delusion, and the like. That is not satisfactory. Our claim is, that departed spirits of men are working marvels on the earth. That claim is good till it be shown that the marvelous events witnessed are the productions of other agents. Each lapsing year strengthens that claim. And if a check to such materialism as argues that man is devoid of any property which will consciously survive the death of his body, and if a positive demonstration of man's survival beyond the tomb, be matters which the methods of Providence are employed to advance, then the unwonted numbers of returning spirits recently and now, and the frequency of their advent, together with the consequent daily and palpable demonstration of a life beyond the present, come to man most opportunely--come to him both when vast masses of mortals are prepared so meet and welcome them as friends and kindred, and also, and significantly, when their presence impairs the power of bright and leading minds to cause the thinkers of our age to anticipate annihilation of themselves, their kindred, and their race, and to suffer loss of the incentives and joys which attend anticipations of a heaven in advance. So welcome, efficient, and salutary an advent of invisible actors and teachers as we witness to-day, seemingly would have been impossible, had the witchcraft creed of our fathers retained abiding hold upon their descendants. The methods of Providence seem to have embraced both the abolition of that creed, and a sufficient lapse of time for the nurture and culture of a people up to such elevation that a large portion of it would be fitted and disposed to welcome back departed ones just when their proved presence would be the great fact at man's command which would effectually deter advancing and beneficent physical scientists from inferring and teaching that life's emigrants all take a plunge into the rayless abyss of nonentity. A continuous thread of the methods of Providence seems traceable through many of the darkest and most shocking scenes of human history. Many of man's greatest advances have been outwrought through anguish and tortures whose inflictors we reprobate. Is it too much to say that such a thread ropes in, as instruments of good, Pharaoh, Pontius Pilate, Witchcraft, and many other notable personages and scenes, which have been made to further the deliverances of oppressed and suffering mortals? Permission of sins, sufferings, and wrongs comes from the Infinitely Benevolent. Fit instrumentality existed at Salem Village for demolishing that special creed of Christendom which closed and barred the gates that nature hinged for furnishing a way of egress back from beyond the grave; and wisest and kindest dwellers above were in mood then to let suffering and anguish enough come upon mortals there to awaken them out of their deep delusion, and sway them to set those special gates ajar. They broke the bars; but dust and rubbish long made a wide opening difficult and arduous. A century and a half was needed for such liberation of mortals from the crampings of delusion, and for such exercise of free thought in a land of free schools, as would educate a nation up to courage which could calmly ask any mysterious visitant whatsoever, who he was, whence he came, and what he wanted. In the fullness of time, this could be and was done. When culture and science were broadly producing conviction that there is no hereafter for man, one came forth from the land of the departed, knocked on cottage walls, gained the ear of common people, allured hosts of other spirits to follow him to human abodes; and the numerous band of returning ones is now the only host which can effectually stop the hope-crushing advance of materialism, and furnish the world palpable demonstration of an hereafter for the souls of men. In 1692, an unprecedented strain in its application effectually broke up Christendom's long cherished and indurated delusion that devils unfleshed and devils incarnate are the only beings who can act and commune across the line dividing this from the life beyond. That rupture set Christians free to learn that duty called them to "try the spirits." In time a generation came who met that duty. Spirits of God--good spirits--as well as others visit human abodes, and their presence itself is proof positive of man's survival beyond the grave. Their widely conceded advent seems divinely opportune, for it occurs when their presence tends forcefully to check, and promises to stop the prevalent strong tendency of science and culture to divine that man's doom is drear annihilation. The beneficent intensity of a special strain upon a specific delusion, nine score years ago, is due to the strength of faith, character, and action, and to the unwonted extent and excellency of medianimic instrumentality then existing at Salem Village, whose conspicuous action and use there made that spot lastingly memorable; and we deem it just to regard it as a point from which influences emanated whose fruits to-day are eminent blessings to the Christian world. The methods of Providence often educe choicest good from most direful evils. APPENDIX. CHRISTENDOM'S WITCHCRAFT DEVIL. Christians, when New England witchcraft occurred, generally believed that it originated with, emanated from, and was controlled by _one_ vast malignant personality, possessing frightful powers, aspects, and efficiency. A fair comprehension of what that being was then conceived to be is needful to anything like accurate knowledge of the origin, growth, sway, exit, and genuine character of occurrences which outwrought as dire strifes, horrors, bloodshed, and heart-wrenchings, as any courageous, intelligent, and conscientious people ever sided forward or suffered under. Christendom, in the day of our Puritan forefathers, believed in a devil peculiar to a few centuries--in one who was of more modern birth than the Bible or other ancient histories--who was very different from any being characterized in either Jewish or heathen records of antiquity, and has no parallel, we trust, in any creed to-day. Probably many malicious, as well as benevolent, unseen personages exist, who may often act upon men and their affairs. There may be powerful _evil ones_, in realms unseen, who there rule over hosts of like dispositions with themselves. Neither the existence of many devils, nor intermeddling by them with man's peace and welfare, is called in question. Authors of the Bible, when using the terms devil, Satan, and others of similar import, generally designated, as our own age extensively does, beings very unlike _such_ a devil as was conceived of and dreaded by Christendom from two to five hundred years ago. Prior to and during the days of Jesus and his apostles, such terms were often applied to whatever, in either the visible or the unseen world, tempted or forced men to wrong-doing, or hindered their progress in goodness. Jesus said to a disciple, "Get thee behind me, _Satan_;" and this, simply because Peter was giving him advice more carnal than spiritual, and which was designed to dissuade Jesus from following the course which his conscience was prompting him to pursue. The mere giving of unwise advice made Peter _a Satan_. Turning to 2 Sam. xxiv. 1, you may read that the LORD, being angry, moved David to number the people. Turning again to 1 Chron. xxi. 1, you will find a description of the same transaction, in which it is said that "_Satan_ ... provoked David to number Israel." Therefore, in biblical language, even the LORD, when angry, was equivalent to Satan. Any accuser, in a court of justice or equity, might properly have been called a Satan, in the days of the prophets, for then that term was applicable to any adversary or opponent, of whatever grade or nature. Very much later than David's day the word _devil_ frequently had a much softer meaning than it usually bears now. Jesus said (John vi. 70), "Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is _a devil_?" Having previously called Peter "Satan," Jesus here called Judas a _devil_. Thus highest Christian authority spoke of unwise and treacherous men as being Satans and devils, and thereby showed that those words anciently were sometimes applied, by the pure and wise, to other beings than one special great malignant spirit. The devil of modern _witchcraft_ was unknown by Jesus and by all biblical authors. Whence, then, since not from the Bible,--whence did Christians of the seventeenth and some earlier centuries obtain those peculiar conceptions of him, which made the devil almost counterbalance, in malignity and monstrosity, the benignity and beauty of the Infinite God? Where did they find him? So far as we perceive and believe, his like was never recognized, either outside of Christendom, or prior to the dark ages. No being verily like him was ever dreaded as an enemy by any other people than Christians, and not by them till within the last thousand years. About all that we know is, that he had become huge and frightful at the time of the Reformation; and our belief is, that morbid fancy, in the cloisters and monasteries of Europe, through several centuries plied her limnistic verbal skill, and thereby outlined and blackened piecemeal her most _outré_ conceptions possible of the lineaments and expressions of a being as monstrous in shape, as powerful, wily, and malicious, as imagination could fabricate, and thus gave the Christian world a monk-made devil--a hideous personification of evil. Lapsing time eventually caused this cloister-born scarecrow to be looked upon as vitalized malignity incarnate--as an immortal, ubiquitous personality--as a living fiend of awful sway and force, who should be watched, feared, and fought by every God-serving man. We look upon him as a production of human fancy. But not so did our predecessors. They assigned to their devil of horrid form and huge dimensions a very different origin and nature. Where born, and what his nature, according to the belief of those who imported him to New England shores, are important questions the appropriate answers to which must be comprehended before one can obtain just appreciation of the position in which their creed placed our forefathers, and the direction and force it gave to their action whenever seeming diabolism not only fearfully disturbed private firesides and social relations, but threatened tenure of lands, and continued existence of church and state throughout the colonies. Their Author of witchcraft was conceived of, believed in, and set forth in language, as having been heaven-born--a glorious angel once, but apostate and banished from his native skies;--as one mighty, malignant personality, almost ubiquitous, almost omniscient, second in power to Almighty God alone, and nearly His equal. As quoted by Upham, vol. i. p. 390, Wierius, a learned German physician, described the devil as being one who "possesses great courage, incredible cunning, superhuman wisdom, the most acute penetration, consummate prudence, an incomparable skill in vailing the most pernicious artifices under a specious disguise, and a malicious and infinite hatred toward the human race, implacable and incurable."--"He was," says Appleton's N. A. Cyc., "often represented on the stage, with black complexion, flaming eyes, sulphuric odor, horns, tail, hooked nails, and cloven hoof." Many of us now living have seen him pictured nearly thus in some old illustrated editions of the Bible. But the gifted Milton's comprehensive fancy and lofty diction, exempted, under poetic license, from adherence to fact or creed, or other enfeebling restraint, put forth, in masterly and acceptable manner, lineaments and features appropriate to an embodiment of his highest possible conceptions of combined majesty, might, and malignity, and thus allured his own and future ages to bow in awe before a devil who in grandeur far surpassed any which monkish powers had been able to fabricate and describe. He imputed to Satan "eyes that sparkling blaz'd; his other parts, besides prone on the flood, extended long and large lay floating many a rood," ... "unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and courage never to submit or yield," ... "resolve to wage by force or guile eternal war, irreconcilable to our grand foe, ... ever to do ill our sole delight, as being the contrary to his high will whom we resist; If then his providence out of our evil seek to bring forth good, our labor must be to prevent that end, and out of good still to find means of evil." Such was the great poet's "Archangel ruined;" nearly such was the prevalent perception of him by the general mind of Christendom. He was one mighty Evil Spirit--monarch of all fiends, and an untiring operator for harm to both the body and soul of man. Such conceptions were general alike in Europe and America. But still another view, quite as appalling as any of the foregoing, and appealing more directly to the temporal interests of men, operated in _America_, and made it specially needful for all property holders here to contest the devil's advances. Cotton Mather called the arch mischief-worker "a great landholder;" and he was spoken of as though conceived to be temporal as well as spiritual ruler over all Indian tribes and their lands, and also as being a contester against God and Christ for empire over each and every part of the American continent where Christians encroached upon his sable majesty's domains. God and devil--each was a vast and powerful spirit, exercising sway and dominion widely, as the other would let him; and these two mighty spiritual Rulers were often struggling in sharp conflict of doubtful issue for empire over particular portions of the earth. The Devil--and such a devil too--occupied much space not only in the theology and philosophy of the learned, but also in the daily and worldly thoughts of the common colonists. Upham has forcefully and truthfully said (vol. i. p. 393), that our fathers "were under an impression that the devil, having failed to prevent progress of knowledge in Europe, had abandoned his efforts to obstruct it effectually there; had withdrawn into the American wilderness, intending here to make a final stand; and had resolved to retain an undiminished empire over the whole continent and his pagan allies, the native inhabitants. Our fathers accounted for the extraordinary descent, and incursions of the Evil One among them, in 1692, on the supposition "that it was a desperate effort to prevent them from bringing civilization and Christianity within his favorite retreat; and their souls were fired with the glorious thought, that, by carrying on the war with vigor against him and his confederates, the witches, they would become chosen and honored instruments in the hands of God for breaking down and abolishing the last stronghold on the earth of the kingdom of darkness." This mighty Devil, commander-in-chief of the countless hosts of all the devils, demons, satans, Indians, heathen, sinners in, above, upon, or around earth,--this mighty contester for dominion with God and Christ and all good Christians, was conceived to be author of all works called witchcrafts, producing them through human beings who had voluntarily made a covenant to serve him, and who resided in the midst of the people whom he molested; for we shall soon see that the philosophy of those times permitted him no other possible access to man than through persons who were in covenant with himself. Any covenanter with such a devil, that is, any wizard or witch, could be regarded by the public as nothing less formidable than a voracious wolf burrowing within the Christian sheepfold, who, if not at once unearthed and slain, would either actually devour, or frighten away from their pasturing grounds, all those with their descendants who had crossed the ocean to feed on the hills and vales of America. Our fathers felt that the possession and value of their homes and lands, as well as the temporal peace and prosperity of the community, its religious privileges, and the salvation of human souls, were at stake in a witchcraft conflict. Their faith, their interests temporal and spiritual, their manhood, and all that was brave, strong, and good in them, called upon them to face boldly even such a devil as has been described above, and to fight him by any processes which had been tried and approved in Europe; the chief of which was, to seize his covenanted servants--his guns--and silence them promptly and permanently. Witches must die! LIMITATIONS OF THE DEVIL'S POWERS. Creed-makers before the Reformation conceived, what is probably true, that natural barriers at all times have effectually debarred even the mightiest devil, as well as each and all of his disembodied imps, from coming directly into such close contact with a human body, or any other material object, as enabled them to produce effects perceptible by man's physical senses. Being themselves spirits, whether primarily earth-born or foreign, devils could effect direct access to, and could harm the minds and souls of men, and, unaided by mortals, could incite human beings to evil actions and self-debasement, while yet, so long as they were unaided by voluntary human alliance, they were absolutely unable to act upon matter--unable to subject human forms to fits, twitchings, tumblings, transformations, sicknesses, pains, &c., such as the bewitched of old experienced, and such as await many mediumistic persons to-day. Devils, formerly, and spirits now, to make the effects of their powers observable, or to make themselves felt by men's external senses, usually must act first and directly upon the equivalent to such nervous fluid or aura as enables man's mind to actuate his own body. Any disembodied spirit, of whatsoever grade or character, may be, and probably is, seldom able to command that intermediate aura--or that _something_--excepting when in or near an animal organism which possesses those properties or conditions, whatever they are, which render a person mediumistic. Constructors of the witchcraft creed probably had learned that nature always and everywhere makes matter intangible by spirit directly, and they thence inferred that the devil could never get into close contact with human bodies without the aid of some spirit, or of appendages to some spirit, who holds living alliance with matter, and consequently has in or around itself nervous fluid, or its equivalent, which is usable by mind not its own--is loanable, or at least liable to be abstracted. Transpiring observation now quite distinctly perceives that control of human organisms by disembodied spirits is usually attended by conditions fundamentally analogous to an antecedent covenant. The old creed-makers may have reasoned from facts of experience and observation much more generally and logically than the present age imagines. No special desire is felt, and we do not see that any special obligation rests upon us, to palliate the doings of those monastics who in dark ages both fabricated and shackled the devil of witchcraft. Still we do not begrudge them such justification as may flow out that passing facts. We have already stated the probability that nature makes physical man intangible by spirits directly. Because of protracted observations of their doings, we assume that spirits are able to read at a glance the properties of each form to which they give special attention, and are at no loss to determine what organisms are controllable by them when conditions are all favorable. One and an important condition is, absence of resistance to control by the mind to which the susceptible organism pertains. The genuine owner generally _can_ withhold his or her nervous fluids, or auras, or those properties, of whatever kind or name, which a spirit must use in the controlling process; and, consequently, _a quasi agreement_, amounting at least to acquiescence on the part of the medium, is generally a necessary preliminary to any modern spirit-manifestation, especially with mediums not much accustomed to be controlled. When and where belief prevailed that all disembodied spirits who ever actuated human forms were the devil or his imps, the inference that those whom he and his controlled had entered into an agreement with _him_, was natural and almost necessary. For an agreement or consensus between a controlling spirit and the will of the person controlled is very common now, and, no doubt, has been in all past ages. The assumption, however, which seems to have been prevalent formerly, that such consensus involved eternal reciprocal obligation between the devil and a human soul, or the sale of that soul to the Evil One, could not be required or suggested by any facts perceivable by modern observation. No doubt each successive use of properties of a particular body by an intelligence from outside itself, generally enables the foreign spirit subsequently to manage that body with increasing ease to itself, and with more satisfaction probably to both parties; and the practice, if mutually pleasurable, renders prolonged co-operation probable; but co-operation for a time imposes no obligation or necessity that the parties shall remain forever conjoined. Common use of the same magnetism, nervous elements, or whatever they use in common, may tend to make a spirit and a mortal assimilate in their tastes, emotions, motives, and characters. This co-operation may evoke such sympathy between them, that each may often be drawn to the of other's aid, and conjointly they may manifest both physical and mental powers which neither could put forth alone. And it is possible that a liberated spirit may be so linked in sympathy with numerous other spirits, that the joint powers of many are at his service, so that through a single human form there may be manifested to the outer world the effects of the combined forces of legions of ascended spirits, either good or bad, in one accordant band. Obviously, spiritual beings, of whatever quality, are generally dependent, for any manifestation to the outer world, on one or more of a class of mortals possessing special properties or susceptibilities. Nature seems to impose such necessity. She does not let even man's own spirit act upon his stable body directly, but through something evanescent before microscope and scalpel. COVENANT WITH THE DEVIL Perhaps, and probably, the direst and most disastrous of all deluding misconceptions by our forefathers--the one which engendered, nurtured, and intensified the greatest evils of witchcraft--was, that neither their huge devil, nor any subordinate fiendish spirit, could get access to external nature and human bodies through any other avenue than some man, woman, or child, who had already _voluntarily made an explicit agreement with him or his to be his obedient and faithful servant, in consideration of helps and favors which the devil promised to bestow in requital_. When such a covenant had been ratified by signature in the devil's book, written with the blood of the mortal party, then forthwith the devil and his hosts thereby became subject to his new servant's call, and the servant to the devil's summons, so that either could command the powers of both for co-operation in the execution of any malice or deviltry whatsoever, and upon any designated individual. The assumed fact that the devil could use the faculties and properties of no human being who had not expressly covenanted with him, conjoined with belief that he must have the voluntary help of some human being whenever he molested men, was the specially murderous ingredient of faith which impelled good and humane men on to copious shedding of innocent blood. The making of that covenant, and thereby opening an aperture for the devil's entrance through nature's barrier, and thus admitting a wolf into the Christian fold, who otherwise could not possibly have entered, constituted the essence of the crime of witchcraft. That covenanting act made the covenanting man or woman a wizard or a witch; and God had said, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." THE DEVIL'S DEFENSE. The custom is humane and equitable which permits the accused to be heard in their own behalf. It is a common saying, that even the prisoner now at our bar is always entitled to his due and we cheerfully grant him opportunity to defend himself. Under his alias, Satan, and using a cultured Englishman as his amanuensis, he has recently favored the world with his autobiography; in which he says,-- "I am a power. I am a power under God, and as such I perform a task which, however unlovely and however painful, is destined to put forward God's wise and benignant purposes for the good of man.... I am an image of the evil that is in man, arising from his divinely-given liberty of moral choice. That evil I discipline and correct, as well as represent; and so I am also a divine school-master to bring the world to God. My origin is human, my sphere of action earthly, my final end dissolution. Evil must cease when good is universal. While, then, I cannot boast of a heavenly birth, I disown fiendish dispositions. Worse than the worst man I cannot be. I am indeed a sort of mongrel, born, bred, reared, and nurtured of human fancy, folly, and fraud. As such I possess a sort of quasi omnipresence and a quasi omniscience, for I exist wherever man exists, and, dwelling in human hearts, know all that men think, feel, and do. Hence I have power to tempt and mislead; and that power, when in my worst moods, I am pleased to exercise.... I am a personification of the dark side of humanity and the universe.... I exist in every land, and occupy a corner in every human heart.... I am the child of human speculation: I came into existence on the first day that man asked himself, 'Whence this world in which I live and of which I am a part?'"[1] [1] The Autobiography of Satan, edited by John R. Beard, D. D., London, 1872. The frankness, perspicuity, definiteness, and point, taken in connection with the calm, earnest tone, and gentle, candid spirit in which his then placid Majesty dictated that account of himself to his Reverend scribe, win our credence, and induce us to believe he utters only the simple truth when he describes himself as "a personification of the dark side of humanity and the universe,"--as one who "cannot boast of a heavenly birth," but was "born, bred, and nurtured of human fancy, folly, and fraud,"--as possessing "a sort of quasi omnipresence and a quasi omniscience," existing "wherever man exists, ... dwelling in human hearts," knowing "all that men think, feel, and do," having power "to tempt and mislead," and, in his "worst moods, is pleased to exercise" that power. Such a Satan, or devil, no doubt exists. But, though we admit that he was a mighty impersonal power in the midst of witchcraft scenes, he was vastly different from the heaven-born "Archangel fallen," whom the good people of New England believed in, feared, and supposed themselves to be fighting against. A personification of the principle of evil, or "of the dark side of humanity and the universe," is the only devil who is simultaneously present with the whole human race. But hosts of unseen personalities--earth-born, expanded, wily, malignant, and powerful--may act upon man, and bands of such may be subservient to some abler ones of their kind, who reign over them as princes of the dark powers of the air. Malignant departed mortals are the only disembodied personal devils who molest mankind. We believe in _many_ devils, but not in Christendom's witchcraft chief _One_. The devil of our fathers, though but a fiction, was chief cause of witchcraft's woes, and therefore merits attention first, in any attempt to subject that matter to new analysis. DEMONOLOGY AND NECROMANCY. Demonology--intercourse with demons--implies dealings with spiritual personalities; but these may be either good or bad, and may consist wholly, or only in part, of departed human beings, provided there be any other grade of spirits residing in, or able to enter, earth's spirit spheres: probably there are not. In earlier ages, these demons were often deemed to be intermediate messengers and links facilitating intercourse between mortals on earth and most eminent gods above. That idea, somewhat qualified, is having revival now in the minds of those who are receiving from their departed friends instructions and influences which allure humans heavenward. In the olden faith, demon was used to designate a spirit who might be good; and demonology, then, far from being branded as DIABOLISM, or dealings with one great Devil and his special devotees, was generally deemed not only innocent, but helpful;--as much so as man's communings to-day with either his disembodied kindred and friends, or with benighted, forlorn, and anguished souls who seek needed encouragement and solace, which they can obtain from none other than an earthly source, are deemed helpful by those loving and philanthropic men and women who take active part in similar demonological interviews now. Bad as demonology seems at this day, when the word has come to suggest dealings with bad and demoralizing spirits alone, time was, when both it and necromancy, or intercourse with the dead, could be legitimately applied to such interviews as Jesus had with Moses and Elias on the Mount of Transfiguration; and therefore then might have imported communings that would spiritualize and elevate whoever experienced its operations. Strictly, there are no dead. Moses and Elias were living personages when seen by Jesus. Socrates, and many another ancient and wise teacher, drew much profound wisdom and inspiration from out the vailed recesses of demonology and necromancy, and the example of such wise and good men of old has practical imitation by the spiritually-minded and philanthropic disciples of modern communicators living in supernal spheres. BIBLICAL WITCH AND WITCHCRAFT. Very great difference existed between the witchcraft of Bible times and that of Christendom fifteen hundred years after John recorded the Revelation. The difference was almost as marked as that between the devils of those two periods. The word witch seems primarily to mean, "a _knowing_ one," and perhaps has always hinted at knowledge or power acquired by some mysterious method. Witch has generally meant, not only a _knowing one_, but also any person who gets knowledge or help by processes which are mysterious. Witch_craft_ has been the utterance of knowledge, or the application of power, thus obtained. But neither all such utterance, nor all such application of force, was, in biblical times, called witchcraft. Far, very far different from that. Daniel, Ezekiel, and John the Revelator, all obtained knowledge mysteriously from the lips of departed men; their promulgation of it, however, was not called _witchcraft_, but the _word of God_. Neither do the Scriptures speak of the woman of Endor as a witch or practicer of witchcraft, though she had both a familiar spirit, and such clairvoyant powers that at her call Samuel rendered himself visible by her; and he either used her organs of speech, or impressed her to use them, in utterance of rebukes to Saul and prediction of his coming fate. This was not biblical _witchcraft_; though, departing from biblical precedent, the modern world has fallen into the habit of calling the woman of Endor a _witch_, while that epithet is not applied to her in the Bible. His lawgiver said to Moses, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live;" but if that teacher furnished any very clear definition of either witch or witchcraft, it has not come down to us. Tempting to _spiritual whoredom_, so far as we can determine, constituted the crime of witchcraft among the Jews. The people of Israel were regarded as being _wedded_ to the God of Abraham; therefore persons who by _signs_, by marvelous utterances and acts, tempted Jews to be false to their marriage relations with their God, were witches. The crime of witchcraft was not involved in simply putting forth knowledge, signs, and wonders by the help of familiar spirits, because prophets and apostles often did that when they put forth "the word of God." Witchcraft was application of supernal knowledge and powers for the special purpose of seducing and tempting people to worship Moloch, or some other god of the heathen. (See Lev. xx. 5, 6.) Bible witchcraft was _use of mysterious acquisitions in teaching_ HERESY. PROTESTANT CHRISTENDOM'S WITCH AND WITCHCRAFT. In the seventeenth century, much of the biblical import of witch and witchcraft, as well as of demon, had been either perverted or dropped, and belief was prevalent, especially outside of the Catholic Church, that none but _evil_ spirits could come to men; and also that "the days of miracles, or special manifestation directly from the Almighty, had ceased." Then, too, a personal devil, heaven-born but apostate, and perhaps also myriads of other heaven-born but rebellious and banished angels, could, and only such base spirits could, get access to our external world; and they could effect entrance only through human beings who voluntarily consented and agreed to co-operate with them. It will be apparent on future pages, that any spirit then seen by clairvoyant eyes, whatever the sex, form, features, complexion, or aspect, was either the devil himself, or some apparition formed and presented by him or his, and he was held responsible for its presentation. Our fathers attained to and held firm conviction that all channels for inspirations and mighty works, available since the days of Jesus and his apostles, were avenues for the influx of none but poisonous waters. This was a sad mistake; for, could they have perceived the groundlessness of their faith that supernal springs of truth, purity, and benevolence had been dammed against the emission of good waters earthward,--groundlessness of their belief that the possibility and feasibility of such works and inspirations as they called miracles had ever been restricted by anything but natural conditions,--that perception would have rendered it apparent to themselves that they ought to make wizards of Abraham and Lot, of Moses and Samuel, of Daniel, Ezekiel, and John the Revelator, since each one of those communed with spirits. Our American predecessors in the seventeenth century believed it impossible that good spirits could come to man from bright abodes,--doubted perhaps, perhaps disbelieved, that departed men and women ever did return to earth, excepting "by the immediate agency of the Almighty;" and their writings and actions justify us in saying, that with them, _witchcraft was injection of occult forces and teachings upon man, through consenting mortals, for malicious purposes solely, and by invisible intelligences_. SPIRIT, SOUL, AND MENTAL POWERS. Perplexing diversity prevails among users of English language in their application of the terms spirit and soul. Some regard spirit as only a fine, invisible robe of the essential man; while others speak of soul as the robe and spirit as the man who wears it. Our own custom has been to regard soul as _the man_, and spirit as his under-garment during earth-life, and his outer one, if he shall have more than one, when he shall put off his present outer. This view is not novel. The sometimes clairvoyant Paul stated that there is a natural or outer, and a spiritual or inner body--yes, _body_. Opened inner eyes to-day often see spirit-forms pervading the outer forms of people around them. Their observations are in harmony with the apostle's declaration. The essential nature of spirit is all unknown by us. Whether matter, spirit, and soul are but different combinations and conditions of like primal elements, we are utterly incompetent to determine. Practically we accept, what is probably a common notion, that matter and soul differ fundamentally; and, having done that, we are unable to identify spirit with either of them elementally. Therefore, without any definite conceptions as to its inherent alliances, we speak of it as possibly something between the other two--_a tertium quid_. Thought regards it as the substance of worlds unspeakably finer than material planets. Spirit, in mass, is not a living, conscious entity, any more than matter is; but is a finer than gossamer substance, capable, like matter, of becoming organized, and growing into a living enrobement of the soul--enrobement of that which constitutes the on-living man through all changes of vestiture. Such is our present conjecture. We apprehend that a world whose elemental substance is spirit both pervades and surrounds this material one--a world, we will say for the purpose of indicating our thought, composed of spirit matter. The invisibility and impalpability of such spirit substance are no conclusive refutation of its existence in and around us perpetually. Who sees electricity, magnetism, gravitation, attraction, cohesion, repulsion? Who sees either mind, or the force by which an aching toe reports to the brain and excites the sympathy of the whole organism? Many things are about us, and yet known only in their perceptible phenomena. Spirit substance may be all about us; the spirit world may be in, through, upon, and around the material one. Many manifestations hint at the existence of an all-permeating something, which--since the word is shorter than atmosphere, and not so liable perhaps to be suggestive of palpable matter--we will call _aura_, that contains and furnishes the elements out of which spirit _bodies_ are formed, elements of the solid globe on which spirits live, and also is the medium of sight, sound, touch, and all sensation to man's spiritual or inner organism even now and here. A soul, encased within a body elaborated from and within that aura, may, when and where conditions favor, live, move freely, and be happy, whether near the fireside of its former earthly mansion, in earth's atmosphere above and around us, in the earth below our feet, under and in the waters of ocean, in the heavens over us, or _wherever thought can go_. It gives body to thought itself. Brick walls and granite mountains may be no hindrances to its movements, or its freedom and power to see, act, and enjoy. All such powers and privileges probably pertain to us as spirits, even while residents in these outer forms, provided only we can effect temporary disentanglements from the outer, as is often done by or for the highly mediumistic. And yet, so long as the two bodies of a human being retain their ordinary conjunction, something not yet well understood, generally either keeps the spirit senses from cognizable contact with what is conceived to be their native aura, and therefore holds them seemingly embryonic, or it keeps the exterior consciousness of most persons from perceptions of many things which inner senses may be latently experiencing. A broad survey of mediumistic phenomena raises the question, whether the inner powers of mediums--now in this life, and daily--see, hear, and learn any more of spiritual things than do the inner powers of others, or whether the chief difference between the mediumistic and others is that the inner faculties of mediums are enabled, in consequence of some peculiarity in relative strength between the outer and inner or in the attachments between the two sets of organs, to report to the outer consciousness, and thus let their outer faculties perceive and report what the inner have cognized, while in the mass of mankind such process is not cognized. The young servant of Elisha (2 Kings vi. 17) was unable to see spirit hosts upon the hills about Dothan, which were visible to his master; but "Elisha prayed, and said, LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes that he may see. And the LORD opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw; and, behold, the mountain was full of horses, and chariots of fire round about Elisha." The prophet did not ask that his young man should be endowed with any new organs of vision, but only for the opening of such as he already possessed. As soon as those visual organs in him, which could be reached and illumined by spirit aura, came into action of which he became conscious, the young man beheld spiritual beings; which beings, since the prophet had been seeing them all the time, were obviously as near and as visible before as after the prayer. Some spirit perhaps ejected spirit force upon the young man in such way as helped internal perceptions to impress themselves on his external consciousness. Spirits frequently throw some invisible aura with perceptible force upon the external eyes of modern mediums, when these sensitives are being brought into condition for conscious discernment of spirits. Whether the object be to awaken new vision, or simply to impress existing internal vision upon the outer consciousness, is yet an unanswered question. Perhaps each in different cases. Possibly an actual discernment of earth-emancipated intelligences by our inner organs, especially in our hours of sleep, occurs frequently with most human beings; that is, the "inward man," or inner consciousness, of each mortal may be well acquainted now with many spirits and spirit scenes, so that, upon liberation from the flesh, emerging spirits may find themselves among acquaintances and at home. With some individuals--especially with prophetic and otherwise mediumistic ones--their knowledge, gained through sensations experienced by the inner faculties, is sometimes brought to and impresses itself upon the outer consciousness, and becomes to palpably operative that those individuals are deemed inspired, for they speak as never _man_--that is, as the outward man--spake. Either physical peculiarities, or peculiar relations between the outer or natural and the inner or spiritual bodies, more than the quantum of either mental or moral developments, seem to be the requisites for facile mediumship. That view is often set forth in statements made by spirits, and is rendered probable by observation of many facts. Mediumistic proclivities run much in families, about as much as musical ones do; and the capabilities for either mediumistic or musical performances are measurably constitutional and transmissible. Moses, Aaron, and their sister Miriam, all prophesied, or were mediums of communications from the realm of spirits. In our antecedent pages it appears that four children of John Goodwin,--that three noble, adult, and married sisters, Nurse, Easty, and Cloyse, living apart from each other, whose mother had been called a witch,--that Sarah Good and her little daughter Dorcas, five years old,--that Mrs. Ann Putnam and her daughter Ann, and that Martha Carrier and four of her children, were mediumistic. We can add to the list seven sons of Seva, and four daughters of Philip, in apostolic times. Constitutional properties, combinations, or endowments, differing from such as are most common in the make-up of man, pertain to such persons as are or can be the most plastic mediums. In many people, the organized properties of their physical or mental structures, or of both these, and the relations of such properties to each other, and their mutual action, become, at times, so modified by severe sickness, proximate drownings, protracted fastings, sudden frights, intense griefs, by use of anæsthetics, narcotics, and stimulants, and from many other causes, that those to whom the properties belong become temporarily mediumistic, though they be not observably or consciously such in their more normal states. The most common, and the more mildly acting agents or instrumentalities of such change, and those which produce the more abiding effects, are magnetic emanations and psychological influences from the positively mediumistic acting upon relatively negative systems. Such emanations may be seed originating new, or fertilizers quickening and expanding existing, inward growths. Emanuel Swedenborg was, prior to and independently of his marked spiritual illumination late in life, one of the most erudite and illustrious scientists of the last century, and, being a truthful, conscientious, devout man, trained to accuracy of observation and statement, he was admirably fitted for a reporter to the external world, of facts which came under his observation as an observer in spirit realms; and we take from his works the following short extracts, which have some bearing upon the topic just presented. "Man loses nothing by death, but is still a man in all respects.... Many are bewildered after death by finding themselves in a body, in garments, and in houses, ... some had believed that men after death would be as ghosts, specters of which they had heard." "The will and understanding ... are two _organic_ forms, ... forms organized from the purest substances. It is no objection that their organization is not manifest to the eye, being interior to sight.... How can love and wisdom act upon what is not a substantial existence? How else can thought inhere?" TWO SETS OF MENTAL POWERS. Teachers unseen, speaking back to the world they have gone from, often say that, when here, they possessed two _bodies_--one of which is entombed below, while in the other they went forth and still abide; they say also that they possessed two mental systems and a double consciousness, one only of which survives. Quite recently, science, pressing forward in explorations, obtained perceptions of this latter fact. In his eighth lecture on the "Method of Creation," given May 1, 1873, and reported in the New York Tribune, the eminent Agassiz spoke as follows:-- "Are all mental faculties one? Is there only one kind of mental power throughout the whole animal kingdom, differing only in intensity and range of manifestation? In a series of admirable lectures, given recently in Boston by Dr. Brown-Séquard, he laid before his audience _a new philosophy of mental powers_. Through physiological experiments, combined with a careful study and comparison of pathological cases, he has come to the conclusion that there are _two sets_, or a double set, of mental powers in the human organism, or acting through the human organism, essentially different from each other. The one may be designated as our ordinary conscious intelligence; the other as a superior power which controls our better nature, solves, sometimes suddenly and unexpectedly, nay, even in sleep, our problems and perplexities, suggests the right thing at the right time, acting through us without conscious action of our own, though susceptible of training and elevation. Or perhaps I should rather say, our own organism may be trained to be a more plastic instrument through which this power acts in us. "I do not see why this view should not be accepted. It is in harmony with facts as far as we know them. The experiments through which my friend Dr. Brown-Séquard has satisfied himself that the subtle mechanism of the human frame, about which we know so little in its connection with mental processes, is sometimes acted upon by a power outside of us as familiar with that organization as we are ignorant of it, are no less acute than they are curious and interesting." Many persons, including the author of these pages, more than twenty years ago found among "phenomena called spiritual," many which seemed imperatively to demand a broadening of the base of any mental philosophy which the world at large had presented to their notice, and apprehended that light was dawning amid the dark work of spirits, which might reveal to man more knowledge than he had ever obtained both of his own mysterious structure, and of his relations to and possible intercourse with his predecessors on earth. Many, perceiving this, have held on prosecuting such observations, and drawing such conclusions as their opportunities and powers permitted, undeterred by sneers and cold shoulders; and such now spontaneously hail with joy the arrival of the world's most advanced scientists at "_a new philosophy of mental powers_;" such a philosophy, too, as manifestations well scrutinized have long been indicating would some day be based on the firm foundation of proved facts, and become a blessing to our race. Both spiritualism and science, by distinct routes, have reached a common point, and each testifies to the other's discovery of a new world _in_ man. "The subtle mechanism of the human frame, about which we know so little in its connection with mental processes, _is sometimes acted upon by a power outside of us as familiar with that organism as we are ignorant of it, ... acting through us without conscious action of our own, though susceptible of training or elevation_." Such is the conclusion of Dr. Brown-Séquard, which is indorsed by Agassiz. Backed by such authority, one may very courageously move forward in efforts to show that the very structure of man through all ages may have permitted certain human forms to have been controlled and used by intelligent powers outside of themselves, and without conscious action of their own, that is, without consciousness on the part of the individual minds to which those bodies naturally pertained. Such facts are guide-boards designating pathways along which producers of prophetic, witchcraft, and spiritualistic phenomena can reach standing-points for speech and action perceptible by men's external senses; these facts are keys, too, that will unlock many chambers of mystery, and we have used them in searches among the records of witchcraft. Those eminent savants do not state, and therefore we shall not maintain, that the outside power they refer to is spirits of former occupants of human bodies; but since that power "is as familiar with the human organism as we are ignorant of it," the language surely implies reference to _some intelligent_ power, for its familiarity with the organism is that of _knowledge_, the acquisition of which is contrasted with our _ignorance_. To whom can they refer, if not to spirits of some grade? The nature of things contains provision for temporary reincarnations of some departed spirits in the physical forms of some peculiarly organized and endowed human beings. This fact is important, and should be borne in mind during a perusal of the present work. MARVEL AND SPIRITUALISM. We are reluctant to use the word "miracle" because of its liability to be construed as designating not only an act performed directly by an Almighty One, but also that, in performing it, He acts "contrary to the established constitution and course of things;" which course we believe was never adopted. Therefore we shall use "marvel," to designate all works which have seemed to require more than human power, and have been understood to be "more than natural." Such A MARVEL _is a result from application of powerful occult forces which man neither comprehends nor can manage_. SPIRITUALISM is phenomena resulting from use of occult forces and processes by invisible, departed human spirits. Most genuine spiritual phenomena are marvels; but there may be, and may have been in witchcraft-scenes, marvels which spirits did not produce. We left out from the definition of marvel, necessity for an _intelligent_ operator. Impersonal influxes to many mediums may at times produce many things which are often ascribed to personal spirits. Our broad definition lets the word marvel cover all supernal revelations and inspirations from any god, spirit, or the impersonal spirit realms,--all angel or spirit presence ever perceived by man,--all mighty works, signs, and wonders ever wrought through prophets, apostles, magicians, sorcerers, and the like,--all promptings, helps, and works by spirits called "familiar,"--all necromancies, witchcrafts, &c., &c. As a natural philosophy, our subject embraces all these. Its moral or religious aspects do not come under special consideration in the course of inquiry which is pursued by us. Spiritualism--as evolvements by finite unseen intelligences, using none other than natural forces, however occult, acting in subserviency to natural laws and nice conditions--has its rightful place with whatever has come forth from action of intra-mundane or supra-mundane forces and agents. Hidden intelligences in all ages and lands have had credit for performing in man's presence many "mighty works," and for making revelations from the world unseen. Over the whole earth formerly, and over the larger part of it now, such intelligences have been and are deemed to be of all characters and grades, from very unfolded, pure, and benevolent beings, down to the ignorant, corrupt, and malignant. But our Puritan ancestry on this continent had inherited and brought hither with them a firm, unqualified belief that no other spirits but evil ones could, or at least that none but such would, operate among the Christian dwellers on New England soil. The mysterious workers and their doings were here excessively diabolized by the monstrous creed previously described, which prevailed all through Christendom during the seventeenth and some prior centuries, so that signs, wonders, and mighty works among our ancestors assumed forms, characters, and horrors which were never known among Jews, Christians, or heathen of old, and do not revive in our own times. There was then lacking here any conjecture that the same laws which in Job's time permitted Satan to mingle in company with the sons of God, might permit a son of God--a good spirit--to traverse the paths along which the sons of the devil--bad spirits--made approaches to the children of men. Moses, Elias, Samuel, and John's brother prophet were forgotten. We apprehend that facts of history teach beyond all successful refutation that spirits of some quality acted upon and through many persons in the American colonies during the latter half of the seventeenth century. Our fathers were not mistaken as to that fact; but their inhospitable and fierce slamming of doors in the faces of these visitants provoked terrible retaliations. One leading object of this work is to refute the position of intervening historians, that no disembodied spirits whatsoever had any hand in producing American witchcraft. INDIAN WORSHIP. The historian Hutchinson said, "the Indians were supposed to be worshipers of the devil, and their powows to be wizards." Such supposition by the mind of Christendom intensified fears and ruthless acts on American soil more than elsewhere, whenever suspicion of witchcraft was engendered. America was then understood to be peculiarly the domain of the Evil One, and all its pagan inhabitants were regarded as his devoted adherents. Thence his followers here were deemed to be more numerous and formidable than elsewhere, and therefore his invasion was more to be dreaded on this than on the other side of the Atlantic. We must impute a considerable portion of witchcraft horrors to such narrow and cramping religious views and feelings among our fathers, as made all men everywhere seem to them not only outcasts from God, but also associates with Satan, who did not possess their special creed, and worship by their processes. They practically forgot that all men, of all nations and tribes, are the offspring of the Unknown God, whom Paul declared to the Athenians; and also that his paternal beneficence extends to his children everywhere, and draws them toward him by methods suited to their circumstances, capacities, and needs, and consequently that all religious creeds and all modes and forms of worship may be helpful to those who possess and use them. History, literature, and public belief, pertaining to the religious practices of North American Indians, so far as we remember, have very uniformly ascribed to them something closely resembling communings and consultations with invisible intelligences. Such religious services are, and ever have been, rendered in all those primitive tribes the world over concerning whom we have attained to anything like accurate knowledge. (See Primitive Culture, by Edward B. Tylor.) Ethnology proves that belief in the presence of spirits--and, generally, belief in the access of ancestral spirits--exists among man everywhere in the nations lowest of all in culture, and survives in them as they rise in development. Dr. Bentley declared that "the agency of invisible beings, if not a part of every religion, is not contrary to any one." Hutchinson, as quoted above, says, "The Indians were supposed to be worshipers of _The Devil_, and their powows to be wizards." No question is raised that such a supposition pertaining to Indian worship was prevalent in the New England mind down to the close of the seventeenth century. Nor can we doubt that untruthfully the Puritans charged the aborigines with worshiping the one great Devil of Puritan Diabolism, because of our conviction that the red men were in fact communing with their ancestral and numerous other friendly spirits. The white man's erroneous conception that his devil was the red man's god, had no small influence upon public action in witchcraft times. The idea that their devil had for backers all the aborigines of the continent, made him a more formidable foe than he otherwise would have been, and intensified the ruthlessness of the whites in their persecutions of those of their own complexion and households who were believed to have made a compact to serve the Evil One. Perhaps a modern instance may exhibit with much clearness the real nature of Indian worship in former ages. We quote from the Washington Chronicle, early in the year 1873, what is there ascribed to General O. O. Howard, who is often called the _Christian Soldier_. He, as commissioner from the American government, had, unarmed and with but two attendants, penetrated the fastnesses of the mountains, made his way to the home of the Appache Indians and to the presence of their fierce chief, Cochise. After council with the Appaches, "they had," as General Howard writes, "an Appache prayer-meeting, ... one Indian after another would pray or speak.... Cochise's talks were apparently the most authoritative;... I could hear him name Stagalito, meaning Red Beard. I knew from this that our whole case was being considered in their way _in the Divine Presence_ either of the God of the earth, or of His spirits; and surely these were solemn moments, ... fortunately the spirits were on our side." These words indicate very clearly the nature of that devil whom modern Indian powows worship: they make him on one occasion neither more nor less than the ascended chief Stagalito, associated with other spirits of the same nature. Can there be a doubt that Hutchinson misrepresented the fact, if he meant to call the Indian communings with spirits a worshiping of that monstrous being whom the word "_Devil_," uttered through clerical lips, or recorded by intelligent pens, in early colonial times, was intended and understood to describe? We think not. There was neither truth nor justice in the supposition that the red men were devil-worshipers at the times when they were consulting departed spirits; nor in the presumption that their mediums--their powows--were wizards. False epithets do not convert any sincere worship, performed even by the rudest of the rude, into a bad act. Those Indians of two centuries ago, as judged by us now, had truer conceptions and better knowledge of spirit intercourse with mortals, and of the fit methods of obtaining useful incentives and help from spirit realms, than had their Christian neighbors, who misunderstood and blindly maligned the devotions offered to the Great Spirit by his children in the forests. The Indians, to the best of their ability, worshiped Him who is the common Father of all men of every hue and condition. They sought access to the Great Spirit, our God as well as theirs, through communings with their ancestral and other spirits. But the supposition that they worshiped such a being as the devil of Christendom, is obviously incorrect. Cotton Mather said that "the Indians generally acknowledged and worshiped _many_ GODS; therefore greatly esteemed and reveres their _priests_, powows or wizards, who were esteemed as having immediate converse with the gods." Rev. Mr. Higginson, of Salem, said the Indians in that vicinity "do worship two gods--a good and an evil." Mather and Higginson are better authority on this point than Hutchinson. Those denizens of the impressive forests were nature-taught spiritualists communing with their ancestral spirits, and through them were lured and helped on to worship the Great Spirit of Nature--the Omnipresent God. 
28513	----	------------------------------------------------------------------------ Transcriber's Note: Italicized text is indicated with _underscores_. Upright text used within italicized passages for emphasis is indicated with +plus signs+. Blackletter text in the original is shown here within \back slashes\. Greek has been transliterated and is shown as #word#. Inconsistent or archaic spelling, punctuation, and capitalization have been retained as printed. The spacing of chapters and sections matches that of the physical book, and no attempt has been made to match the Table of Contents. A few obvious misprints, such as missing letters or spaces, have been corrected. They are listed at the end of this document, along with more detailed notes about this transcription. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Library of Old Authors. [Illustration: Cotton Mather.] THE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD. BEING AN ACCOUNT OF THE TRYALS OF SEVERAL WITCHES LATELY EXECUTED IN NEW-ENGLAND. BY COTTON MATHER, D.D. TO WHICH IS ADDED A FARTHER ACCOUNT OF THE TRYALS OF THE NEW-ENGLAND WITCHES. BY INCREASE MATHER, D.D. PRESIDENT OF HARVARD COLLEGE. LONDON: JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, SOHO SQUARE. 1862. INTRODUCTION. The two very rare works reprinted in the present volume, written by two of the most celebrated of the early American divines, relate to one of the most extraordinary cases of popular delusion that modern times have witnessed. It was a delusion, moreover, to which men of learning and piety lent themselves, and thus became the means of increasing it. The scene of this affair was the puritanical colony of New England, since better known as Massachusetts, the colonists of which appear to have carried with them, in an exaggerated form, the superstitious feelings with regard to witchcraft which then prevailed in the mother country. In the spring of 1692 an alarm of witchcraft was raised in the family of the minister of Salem, and some black servants were charged with the supposed crime. Once started, the alarm spread rapidly, and in a very short time a great number of people fell under suspicion, and many were thrown into prison on very frivolous grounds, supported, as such charges usually were, by very unworthy witnesses. The new governor of the colony, Sir William Phipps, arrived from England in the middle of May, and he seems to have been carried away by the excitement, and authorized judicial prosecutions. The trials began at the commencement of June; and the first victim, a woman named Bridget Bishop, was hanged. Governor Phipps, embarrassed by this extraordinary state of things, called in the assistance of the clergy of Boston. There was at this time in Boston a distinguished family of puritanical ministers of the name of Mather. Richard Mather, an English non-conformist divine, had emigrated to America in 1636, and settled at Dorchester, where, in 1639, he had a son born, who was named, in accordance with the peculiar nomenclature of the puritans, Increase Mather. This son distinguished himself much by his acquirements as a scholar and a theologian, became established as a minister in Boston, and in 1685 was elected president of Harvard College. His son, born at Boston in 1663, and called from the name of his mother's family, Cotton Mather, became more remarkable than his father for his scholarship, gained also a distinguished position in Harvard College, and was also, at the time of which we are speaking, a minister of the gospel in Boston. Cotton Mather had adopted all the most extreme notions of the puritanical party with regard to witchcraft, and he had recently had an opportunity of displaying them. In the summer of the year 1688, the children of a mason of Boston named John Goodwin were suddenly seized with fits and strange afflictions, which were at once ascribed to witchcraft, and an Irish washerwoman named Glover, employed by the family, was suspected of being the witch. Cotton Mather was called in to witness the sufferings of Goodwin's children; and he took home with him one of them, a little girl, who had first displayed these symptoms, in order to examine her with more care. The result was, that the Irish woman was brought to a trial, found guilty, and hanged; and Cotton Mather published next year an account of the case, under the title of "Late Memorable Providences, relating to Witchcraft and Possession," which displays a very extraordinary amount of credulity, and an equally great want of anything like sound judgment. This work, no doubt, spread the alarm of witchcraft through the whole colony, and had some influence on the events which followed. It may be supposed that the panic which had now arisen in Salem was not likely to be appeased by the interference of Cotton Mather and his father. The execution of the washerwoman, Bridget Bishop, had greatly increased the excitement; and people in a more respectable position began to be accused. On the 19th of July five more persons were executed, and five more experienced the same fate on the 19th of August. Among the latter was Mr. George Borroughs, a minister of the gospel, whose principal crime appears to have been a disbelief in witchcraft itself. His fate excited considerable sympathy, which, however, was checked by Cotton Mather, who was present at the place of execution on horseback, and addressed the crowd, assuring them that Borroughs was an impostor. Many people, however, had now become alarmed at the proceedings of the prosecutors, and among those executed with Borroughs was a man named John Willard, who had been employed to arrest the persons charged by the accusers, and who had been accused himself, because, from conscientious motives, he refused to arrest any more. He attempted to save himself by flight; but he was pursued and overtaken. Eight more of the unfortunate victims of this delusion were hanged on the 22nd of September, making in all nineteen who had thus suffered, besides one who, in accordance with the old criminal law practice, had been pressed to death for refusing to plead. The excitement had indeed risen to such a pitch that two dogs accused of witchcraft were put to death. A certain degree of reaction, however, appeared to be taking place, and the magistrates who had conducted the proceedings began to be alarmed, and to have some doubts of the wisdom of their proceedings. Cotton Mather was called upon by the governor to employ his pen in justifying what had been done; and the result was, the book which stands first in the present volume, "The Wonders of the Invisible World;" in which the author gives an account of seven of the trials at Salem, compares the doings of the witches in New England with those in other parts of the world, and adds an elaborate dissertation on witchcraft in general. This book was published at Boston, Massachusetts, in the month of October, 1692. Other circumstances, however, contributed to throw discredit on the proceedings of the court, though the witch mania was at the same time spreading throughout the whole colony. In this same month of October, the wife of Mr. Hale, minister of Beverley, was accused, although no person of sense and respectability had the slightest doubt of her innocence; and her husband had been a zealous promoter of the prosecutions. This accusation brought a new light on the mind of Mr. Hale, who became convinced of the injustice in which he had been made an accomplice; but the other ministers who took the lead in the proceedings were less willing to believe in their own error; and equally convinced of the innocence of Mrs. Hale, they raised a question of conscience, whether the devil could not assume the shape of an innocent and pious person, as well as of a wicked person, for the purpose of afflicting his victims. The assistance of Increase Mather, the president or principal of Harvard College, was now called in, and he published the book which is also reprinted in the present volume: "A Further Account of the Tryals of the New England Witches.... To which is added Cases of Conscience concerning Witchcrafts and Evil Spirits personating Men." It will be seen that the greater part of the "Cases of Conscience" is given to the discussion of the question just alluded to, which Increase Mather unhesitatingly decides in the affirmative. The scene of agitation was now removed from Salem to Andover, where a great number of persons were accused of witchcraft and thrown into prison, until a justice of the peace named Bradstreet, to whom the accusers applied for warrants, refused to grant any more. Hereupon they cried out upon Bradstreet, and declared that he had killed nine persons by means of witchcraft; and he was so much alarmed that he fled from the place. The accusers aimed at people in higher positions in society, until at last they had the audacity to cry out upon the lady of governor Phipps himself, and thus lost whatever countenance he had given to their proceedings out of respect to the two Mathers. Other people of character, when they were attacked by the accusers, took energetic measures in self-defence. A gentleman of Boston, when "cried out upon," obtained a writ of arrest against his accusers on a charge of defamation, and laid the damages at a thousand pounds. The accusers themselves now took fright, and many who had made confessions retracted them, while the accusations themselves fell into discredit. When governor Phipps was recalled in April, 1693, and left for England, the witchcraft agitation had nearly subsided, and people in general had become convinced of their error and lamented it. But Cotton Mather and his father persisted obstinately in the opinions they had published, and looked upon the reactionary feeling as a triumph of Satan and his kingdom. In the course of the year they had an opportunity of reasserting their belief in the doings of the witches of Salem. A girl of Boston, named Margaret Rule, was seized with convulsions, in the course of which she pretended to see the "shapes" or spectres of people exactly as they were alleged to have been seen by the witch-accusers at Salem and Andover. This occurred on the 10th of September, 1693; and she was immediately visited by Cotton Mather, who examined her, and declared his conviction of the truth of her statements. Had it depended only upon him, a new and no doubt equally bitter persecution of witches would have been raised in Boston; but an influential merchant of that town, named Robert Calef, took the matter up in a different spirit, and also examined Margaret Rule, and satisfied himself that the whole was a delusion or imposture. Calef wrote a rational account of the events of these two years, 1692 and 1693, exposing the delusion, and controverting the opinions of the two Mathers on the subject of witchcraft, which was published under the title of "More Wonders of the Invisible World; or the Wonders of the Invisible world displayed in five parts. An Account of the Sufferings of Margaret Rule collected by Robert Calef, merchant of Boston in New England." The partisans of the Mathers displayed their hostility to this book by publicly burning it; and the Mathers themselves kept up the feeling so strongly that years afterwards, when Samuel Mather, the son of Cotton, wrote his father's life, he says sneeringly of Calef: "There was a certain disbeliever in Witchcraft who wrote against this book" (his father's 'Wonders of the Invisible World'), "but as the man is dead, his book died long before him." Calef died in 1720. The witchcraft delusion had, however, been sufficiently dispelled to prevent the recurrence of any other such persecutions; and those who still insisted on their truth were restrained to the comparatively harmless publication and defence of their opinions. The people of Salem were humbled and repentant. They deserted their minister, Mr. Paris, with whom the persecution had begun, and were not satisfied until they had driven him away from the place. Their remorse continued through several years, and most of the people concerned in the judicial proceedings proclaimed their regret. The jurors signed a paper expressing their repentance, and pleading that they had laboured under a delusion. What ought to have been considered still more conclusive, many of those who had confessed themselves witches, and had been instrumental in accusing others, retracted all they had said, and confessed that they had acted under the influence of terror. Yet the vanity of superior intelligence and knowledge was so great in the two Mathers that they resisted all conviction. In his _Magnalia_, an ecclesiastical history of New England, published in 1700, Cotton Mather repeats his original view of the doings of Satan in Salem, showing no regret for the part he had taken in this affair, and making no retraction of any of his opinions. Still later, in 1723, he repeats them again in the same strain in the chapter of the "Remarkables" of his father entitled "Troubles from the Invisible World." His father, Increase Mather, had died in that same year at an advanced age, being in his eighty-fifth year. Cotton Mather died on the 13th of February, 1728. Whatever we may think of the credulity of these two ecclesiastics, there can be no ground for charging them with acting otherwise than conscientiously, and they had claims on the gratitude of their countrymen sufficient to overbalance their error of judgment on this occasion. Their books relating to the terrible witchcraft delusion at Salem have now become very rare in the original editions, and their interest, as remarkable monuments of the history of superstition, make them well worthy of a reprint. THE CONTENTS. THE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD:-- Page The Author's Defence 3 Letter from Mr. _William Stoughton_ 6 Enchantments encountered 9 An Abstract of Mr. _Perkins's_ Way for the Discovery of Witches 30 The Sum of Mr. _Gaules_ Judgment about the Detection of Witches 33 A DISCOURSE ON THE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD 38 An Hortatory and Necessary Address, to a Country now Extraordinarily Alarum'd by the Wrath of the Devil 79 A Narrative of an Apparition which a Gentleman in Boston had of his Brother, just then murthered in London 107 A Modern Instance of Witches discovered and condemned in a Tryal, before that celebrated Judge, Sir Matthew Hale 111 The Tryal of _G. B._ at a Court of Oyer and Terminer, held in Salem, 1692 120 The Tryal of _Bridget Bishop_, alias _Oliver_, at the Court of Oyer and Terminer, held at Salem, June 2, 1692 129 The Tryal of _Susanna Martin_, at the Court of Oyer and Terminer, held by Adjournment at Salem, June 29, 1692 138 The Tryal of _Elizabeth How_, at the Court of Oyer and Terminer, held by Adjournment at Salem, June 30, 1692 149 The Tryal of _Martha Carrier_, at the Court of Oyer and Terminer, held by Adjournment at Salem, August 2, 1692 154 A Relation of a Few of the Matchless Curiosities which the Witchcraft presented 159 The First Curiositie 159 The Second Curiositie 161 The Third Curiositie 164 The Fourth Curiositie 165 Testimony of Mr. _William Stoughton_ and Mr. _Samuel Sewall_ 167 Extracts from Dr. _Horneck_ showing the Similarity in the Circumstances attending the Witchcraft in New-England and that in Sweedland 167 Matter omitted in the Tryals 172 THE DEVIL DISCOVERED 172 Case proposed, What are those Usual Methods of Temptation with which the Powers of Darkness do assault the Children of Men? 174 Remarks upon the Three Remarkable Assaults of Temptations which the Devil visibly made upon our Lord 175 The First Temptation 175 The Second Temptation 183 The Third Temptation 192 A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE TRYALS OF THE NEW-ENGLAND WITCHES:-- A True Narrative, collected by _Deodat Lawson_, relating to Sundry Persons afflicted by Witchcraft, from the 19th of March to the 5th of April, 1692 201 Remarks of Things more than Ordinary about the Afflicted Persons 211 Remarks concerning the Accused 212 A Further Account of the Tryals of the New-England Witches, sent in a Letter from thence, to a Gentleman in London 214 CASES OF CONSCIENCE CONCERNING EVIL SPIRITS PERSONATING MEN, ETC.:-- An Address to the Christian Reader by Fourteen Influential Gentlemen 221 CASES OF CONSCIENCE CONCERNING WITCHCRAFTS 225 The First Case proposed, Whether or not may Satan appear in the Shape of an Innocent and Pious, as well as of a Nocent and Wicked Person, to afflict such as suffer by Diabolical Molestation? 225 The Affirmative proved from Six Arguments:-- 1. From Several Scriptures 225 2. Because it is possible for the Devil, in the Shape of Innocent Persons, to do other Mischiefs, proved by many Instances 234 3. Because if Satan may not represent an Innocent Person as afflicting others, it must be either because he wants will or power to do this, or because God will never permit him so to do it; either of which may be affirmed 237 4. It is certain, both from Scripture and History, that Magicians by their Inchantments and Hellish Conjurations may cause a False Representation of Persons and Things 243 5. From the concurring Judgment of many Learned and Judicious Men 250 6. Our own Experience has confirmed the Truth of what we affirm 253 The Second Case considered, _viz._ If one bewitched be cast down with the look or cast of the Eye of another Person, and after that recovered again by a Touch from the same Person, is not this an infallible Proof that the party accused and complained of is in Covenant with the Devil? 255 _Answer._ This may be Ground of Suspicion and Examination, but not of Conviction 255 The Judgment of Mr. _Bernard_ and of Dr. _Cotta_ produced 256 Several Things offered against the Infallibility of this Proof:-- 1. 'Tis possible that the Persons in question may be possessed with Evil Spirits. Signs of such 258 2. Falling down with the Cast of the Eye proceeds not from a natural, but an arbitrary Cause 260 3. That of the bewitched Persons being recovered with a Touch is various and fallible 262 4. There are that question the Lawfulness of the Experiment 264 5. The Testimony of Bewitched or Possessed Persons is no Evidence as to what they see concerning others, and therefore not as to themselves 266 6. Bewitched Persons have sometimes been struck down with the Look of Dogs 267 7. If this were an Infallible Proof, there would be difficulty in discovering Witches 268 8. Nothing can be produced out of the Word of God to shew, that this is any Proof of Witchcraft 268 9. Antipathies in Nature have Strange and Unaccountable Effects 268 The Third Case considered, Whether there are any Discoveries of Witchcraft, which Jurors and Judges may with a safe Conscience proceed upon to the Conviction and Condemnation of the Persons under Suspicion? 269 Two things premised:-- 1. That the Evidence in the Crime of Witchcraft ought to be as clear as in any other Crimes of a Capital Nature 269 2. That there have been ways of Trying Witches long used, which God never approved of. More particularly that of casting the Suspected Party into the Water, to try whether they will Sink or Swim. The Vanity and great Sin which is in that way of Purgation evinced by Six Reasons 270 That there are Proofs for the Conviction of Witches, which Jurors may with a safe Conscience proceed upon, proved from Scripture 275 That a Free and Voluntary Confession is a sufficient Ground of Conviction 276 That the Testimony of confessing Witches against others, is not so clear an Evidence as against themselves 279 That if two Credible Persons shall affirm upon Oath that they have seen the Person accused doing Things, which none but such as have familiarity with the Devil, ever did or can do, that's a sufficient ground of Conviction: and that this has often happened 282 Mr. _Perkins_ his Solemn Caution to Jurors 283 Postscript 285 _The Wonders of the Invisible World:_ Being an Account of the TRYALS OF \Several Witches\, Lately Excuted in NEW-ENGLAND: And of several remarkable Curiosities therein Occurring. Together with, I. Observations upon the Nature, the Number, and the Operations of the Devils. II. A short Narrative of a late outrage committed by a knot of Witches in _Swede-Land_, very much resembling, and so far explaining, that under which _New-England_ has laboured. III. Some Councels directing a due Improvement of the Terrible things lately done by the unusual and amazing Range of _Evil-Spirits_ in _New-England_. IV. A brief Discourse upon those _Temptations_ which are the more ordinary Devices of Satan. By _COTTON MATHER_. Published by the Special Command of his EXCELLENCY the Govenour of the Province of the _Massachusetts-Bay_ in _New-England_. Printed first, at _Bostun_ in _New-England_; and Reprinted at _London_, for _John Dunton_, at the _Raven_ in the _Poultry_. 1693. THE AUTHOR'S DEFENCE. 'Tis, as I remember, the Learned _Scribonius_, who reports, That one of his Acquaintance, devoutly making his Prayers on the behalf of a Person molested by _Evil Spirits_, received from those _Evil Spirits_ an horrible Blow over the Face: And I may my self expect not few or small Buffetings from Evil Spirits, for the Endeavours wherewith I am now going to encounter them. I am far from insensible, that at this extraordinary Time of the _Devils coming down in great Wrath upon us_, there are too many Tongues and Hearts thereby _set on fire of Hell_; that the various Opinions about the Witchcrafts which of later time have troubled us, are maintained by some with so much cloudy Fury, as if they could never be sufficiently stated, unless written in the Liquor wherewith Witches use to write their Covenants; and that he who becomes an Author at such a time, had need be _fenced with Iron, and the Staff of a Spear_. The unaccountable Frowardness, Asperity, Untreatableness, and Inconsistency of many Persons, every Day gives a visible Exposition of that passage, _An evil spirit from the Lord came upon Saul;_ and Illustration of that Story, _There met him two possessed with Devils, exceeding fierce, so that no man might pass by that way._ To send abroad a Book, among such Readers, were a very unadvised thing, if a Man had not such Reasons to give, as I can bring, for such an Undertaking. Briefly, I hope it cannot be said, _They are all so:_ No, I hope the Body of this People, are yet in such a Temper, as to be capable of applying their Thoughts, to make a _Right Use_ of the stupendous and prodigious Things that are happening among us: And because I was concern'd, when I saw that no abler Hand emitted any Essays to engage the Minds of this People, in such holy, pious, fruitful Improvements, as God would have to be made of his amazing Dispensations now upon us. THEREFORE it is, that One of the Least among the Children of _New-England_, has here done, what is done. None, but _the Father, who sees in secret_, knows the Heart-breaking Exercises, wherewith I have composed what is now going to be exposed, lest I should in any one thing miss of doing my designed Service for his Glory, and for his People; but I am now somewhat comfortably assured of his favourable acceptance; and, _I will not fear; what can a Satan do unto me!_ Having performed something of what God required, in labouring to suit his Words unto his Works, at this Day among us, and therewithal handled a Theme that has been sometimes counted not unworthy the Pen, even of a King, it will easily be perceived, that some subordinate Ends have been considered in these Endeavours. I have indeed set myself to countermine the whole PLOT of the Devil, against _New-England_, in every Branch of it, as far as one of my _darkness_, can comprehend such a _Work of Darkness_. I may add, that I have herein also aimed at the Information and Satisfaction of Good Men in another Country, a thousand Leagues off, where I have, it may be, more, or however, more considerable Friends, than in my own: And I do what I can to have that Country, now, as well as always, in the best Terms with my own. But while I am doing these things, I have been driven a little to do something likewise for myself; I mean, by taking off the false Reports, and hard Censures about my Opinion in these Matters, the _Parter's Portions_ which my _pursuit of Peace_ has procured me among the _Keen_. My hitherto _unvaried Thoughts_ are here published; and I believe, they will be owned by most of the Ministers of God in these Colonies; nor can amends be well made me, for the wrong done me, by other sorts of _Representations_. * * * * * In fine: For the Dogmatical part of my Discourse, I want no Defence; for the Historical part of it, I have a Very Great One; the Lieutenant-Governour of _New-England_ having perused it, has done me the Honour of giving me a Shield, under the Umbrage whereof I now dare to walk abroad. REVEREND AND DEAR SIR, _You very much gratify'd me, as well as put a kind Respect upon me, when you put into my hands, your elaborate and most seasonable Discourse, entituled, +The Wonders of the Invisible World+. And having now perused so fruitful and happy a Composure, upon such a Subject, at this Juncture of Time; and considering the place that I hold in the Court of +Oyer+ and +Terminer+, still labouring and proceeding in the Trial of the Persons accused and convicted for Witchcraft, I find that I am more nearly and highly concerned than as a meer ordinary Reader, to express my Obligation and Thankfulness to you for so great Pains; and cannot but hold myself many ways bound, even to the utmost of what is proper for me, in my present publick Capacity, to declare my +singular Approbation+ thereof. Such is your Design, most plainly expressed throughout the whole; such your Zeal for God, your Enmity to Satan and his Kingdom, your Faithfulness and Compassion to this poor People; such the Vigour, but yet great Temper of your Spirit; such your Instruction and Counsel, your +Care of Truth+, your Wisdom and Dexterity in allaying and moderating that among us, which needs it; such your clear discerning of Divine Providences and Periods, now running on apace towards their Glorious Issues in the World; and finally, such your good News of +The Shortness of the Devil's Time+, that all Good Men must needs desire, the making of this your Discourse publick to the World; and will greatly rejoyce, that the +Spirit of the Lord+ has thus enabled you to +lift up a Standard+ against the Infernal Enemy, that hath been +coming in like a Flood upon us+. I do therefore make it my particular and earnest Request unto you, that as soon as may be, you will commit the same unto the +Press+ accordingly. I am,_ Your assured Friend, WILLIAM STOUGHTON. I live by _Neighbours_ that force me to produce these undeserved Lines. But now, as when Mr. _Wilson_ beholding a great Muster of Souldiers, had it by a Gentleman then present, said unto him, _Sir, I'll tell you a great Thing: Here is a mighty Body of People; and there is not +Seven+ of them all, but what loves Mr. +Wilson+._ That gracious Man presently and pleasantly reply'd: _Sir, I'll tell you as good a thing as that; here is a mighty Body of People, and there is not so much as +One+ among them all, but Mr. +Wilson+ loves him._ Somewhat so: 'Tis possible, that among this Body of People, there may be few that love the Writer of this Book; but give me leave to boast so far, there is not one among all this Body of People, whom this _Mather_ would not study to serve, as well as to love. With such a _Spirit of Love_, is the Book now before us written: I appeal to all _this World_; and if _this_ World will deny me the Right of acknowledging so much, I appeal to the _other_, that it is _not written with an Evil Spirit_: for which cause I shall not wonder, if _Evil Spirits_ be exasperated by what is written, as the _Sadduces_ doubtless were with what was discoursed in the Days of our Saviour. I only demand the _Justice_, that others _read_ it, with the same Spirit wherewith I _writ_ it. ENCHANTMENTS ENCOUNTERED. SECTION I. It was as long ago as the Year 1637, that a Faithful Minister of the Church of _England_, whose Name was Mr. _Edward Symons_, did in a Sermon afterwards Printed, thus express himself; 'At _New-England_ now the Sun of Comfort begins to appear, and the glorious Day-Star to show it self;--_Sed Venient Annis Sæculæ Seris_, there will come Times in after Ages, when the _Clouds will over-shadow and darken the Sky there_. Many now promise to themselves nothing but successive Happiness there, which for a time through God's Mercy they may enjoy; and I pray God, they may a long time; but in this World there is no Happiness perpetual.' An _Observation_, or I had almost said, an _Inspiration_, very dismally now verify'd upon us! It has been affirm'd by some who best knew _New-England_, That the World will do _New-England_ a great piece of Injustice, if it acknowledge not a measure of Religion, Loyalty, Honesty, and Industry, in the People there, beyond what is to be found with any other People for the Number of them. When I did a few years ago, publish a Book, which mentioned a few memorable Witchcrafts, committed in this country; the excellent _Baxter_, graced the Second Edition of that Book, with a kind Preface, wherein he sees cause to say, _If any are Scandalized, that +New-England+, a place of as serious Piety, as any I can hear of, under Heaven, should be troubled so much with Witches; I think, 'tis no wonder: Where will the Devil show most Malice, but where he is hated, and hateth most:_ And I hope, the Country will still deserve and answer the Charity so expressed by that Reverend Man of God. Whosoever travels over this Wilderness, will see it richly bespangled with Evangelical Churches, whose Pastors are holy, able, and painful Overseers of their Flocks, lively Preachers, and vertuous Livers; and such as in their several Neighbourly Associations, have had their Meetings whereat Ecclesiastical Matters of common Concernment are considered: _Churches_, whose Communicants have been seriously examined about their Experiences of Regeneration, as well as about their Knowledge, and Belief, and blameless Conversation, before their admission to the Sacred Communion; although others of less but hopeful Attainments in Christianity are not ordinarily deny'd Baptism for themselves and theirs; Churches, which are shye of using any thing in the Worship of God, for which they cannot see a Warrant of God; but with whom yet the Names of _Congregational_, _Presbyterian_, _Episcopalian_, or _Antipædobaptist_, are swallowed up in that of _Christian_; Persons of all those Perswasions being taken into our Fellowship, when visible Goodliness has recommended them: Churches, which usually do within themselves manage their own Discipline, under the Conduct of their Elders; but yet call in the help of _Synods_ upon Emergencies, or Aggrievances: _Churches_, Lastly, wherein Multitudes are growing ripe for Heaven every day; and as fast as these are taken off, others are daily rising up. And by the Presence and Power of the Divine Institutions thus maintained in the Country, We are still so happy, that I suppose there is no Land in the Universe more free from the debauching, and the debasing Vices of Ungodliness. The Body of the People are hitherto so disposed, that _Swearing_, _Sabbath-breaking_, _Whoring_, _Drunkenness_, and the like, do not make a Gentleman, but a Monster, or a Goblin, in the vulgar Estimation. All this notwithstanding, we must humbly confess to our God, that we are miserably degenerated from the first Love of our Predecessors; however we boast our selves a little, when Men would go to trample upon us, and we venture to say, _Wherein soever any is bold (we speak foolishly) we are bold also._ The first Planters of these Colonies were a chosen Generation of Men, who were first so pure, as to disrelish many things which they thought wanted Reformation elsewhere; and yet withal so peaceable, that they embraced a voluntary Exile in a squalid, horrid, _American_ Desart, rather than to live in Contentions with their Brethren. Those good Men imagined that they should leave their Posterity in a place, where they should never see the Inroads of Profanity, or Superstition: And a famous Person returning hence, could in a Sermon before the Parliament, profess, _I have now been seven Years in a Country, where I never Saw one Man drunk, or heard one Oath sworn, or beheld one Beggar in the Streets all the while._ Such great Persons as _Budæus_, and others, who mistook Sir _Thomas Moor's_ UTOPIA, for a Country really existent, and stirr'd up some Divines charitably to undertake a Voyage thither, might now have certainly found a Truth in their Mistake; _New-England_ was a true _Utopia_. But, alas, the Children and Servants of those old Planters must needs afford many, degenerate Plants, and there is now risen up a Number of People, otherwise inclined than our _Joshua's_, and the Elders that out-liv'd them. Those two things our holy Progenitors, and our happy Advantages make Omissions of Duty, and such Spiritual Disorders as the whole World abroad is overwhelmed with, to be as provoking in us, as the most flagitious Wickednesses committed in other places; and the Ministers of God are accordingly severe in their Testimonies: But in short, those Interests of the Gospel, which were the Errand of our Fathers into these Ends of the Earth, have been too much neglected and postponed, and the Attainments of an handsome Education, have been too much undervalued, by Multitudes that have not fallen into Exorbitances of Wickedness; and some, especially of our young Ones, when they have got abroad from under the Restraints here laid upon them, have become extravagantly and abominably Vicious. Hence 'tis, that the Happiness of _New-England_ has been but for a time, as it was foretold, and not for a long time, as has been desir'd for us. A Variety of Calamity has long follow'd this Plantation; and we have all the Reason imaginable to ascribe it unto the Rebuke of Heaven upon us for our manifold _Apostasies_; we make no right use of our Disasters: If we do not, _Remember whence we are fallen, and repent, and do the first Works._ But yet our Afflictions may come under a further Consideration with us: There is a further Cause of our Afflictions, whose due must be given him. § II. The _New-Englanders_ are a People of God settled in those, which were once the _Devil's_ Territories; and it may easily be supposed that the _Devil_ was exceedingly disturbed, when he perceived such a People here accomplishing the Promise of old made unto our Blessed Jesus, _That He should have the Utmost parts of the Earth for his Possession._ There was not a greater Uproar among the _Ephesians_, when the Gospel was first brought among them, than there was among, _The Powers of the Air_ (after whom those _Ephesians_ walked) when first the _Silver Trumpets_ of the Gospel here made the _Joyful Sound_. The Devil thus Irritated, immediately try'd all sorts of Methods to overturn this poor Plantation: and so much of the Church, as was _Fled into this Wilderness_, immediately found, _The Serpent cast out of his Mouth a Flood for the carrying of it away._ I believe, that never were more _Satanical Devices_ used for the Unsetling of any People under the Sun, than what have been Employ'd for the Extirpation of the _Vine_ which God has here _Planted_, _Casting out the Heathen, and preparing a Room before it, and causing it to take deep Root, and fill the Land, so that it sent its Boughs unto the +Atlantic+ Sea +Eastward+, and its Branches unto the +Connecticut+ River +Westward+, and the Hills were covered with the shadow thereof._ But, All those Attempts of Hell, have hitherto been Abortive, many an _Ebenezer_ has been Erected unto the Praise of God, by his Poor People here; and, _Having obtained Help from God, we continue to this Day._ Wherefore the Devil is now making one Attempt more upon us; an Attempt more Difficult, more Surprizing, more snarl'd with unintelligible Circumstances than any that we have hitherto Encountred; an Attempt so _Critical_, that if we get well through, we shall soon Enjoy _Halcyon_ Days with all the _Vultures_ of Hell _Trodden under our Feet_. He has wanted his _Incarnate Legions_ to Persecute us, as the People of God have in the other Hemisphere been Persecuted: he has therefore drawn forth his more _Spiritual_ ones to make an Attacque upon us. We have been advised by some Credible Christians yet alive, that a Malefactor, accused of _Witchcraft_ as well as _Murder_, and Executed in this place more than Forty Years ago, did then give Notice of, _An Horrible PLOT against the Country by WITCHCRAFT, and a Foundation of WITCHCRAFT then laid, which if it were not seasonally discovered, would probably Blow up, and pull down all the Churches in the Country._ And we have now with Horror seen the _Discovery_ of such a _Witchcraft_! An Army of _Devils_ is horribly broke in upon the place which is the _Center_, and after a sort, the _First-born_ of our _English_ Settlements: and the Houses of the Good People there are fill'd with the doleful Shrieks of their Children and Servants, Tormented by Invisible Hands, with Tortures altogether preternatural. After the Mischiefs there Endeavoured, and since in part Conquered, the terrible Plague, of _Evil Angels_, hath made its Progress into some other places, where other Persons have been in like manner Diabolically handled. These our poor Afflicted Neighbours, quickly after they become _Infected_ and _Infested_ with these _Dæmons_, arrive to a Capacity of Discerning those which they conceive the _Shapes_ of their Troublers; and notwithstanding the Great and Just Suspicion, that the _Dæmons_ might Impose the _Shapes_ of Innocent Persons in their _Spectral Exhibitions_ upon the Sufferers, (which may perhaps prove no small part of the _Witch-Plot_ in the issue) yet many of the Persons thus Represented, being Examined, several of them have been Convicted of a very Damnable _Witchcraft_: yea, more than One _Twenty_ have _Confessed_, that they have Signed unto a _Book_, which the Devil show'd them, and Engaged in his Hellish Design of _Bewitching_, and _Ruining_ our Land. _We_ know not, at least _I_ know not, how far the _Delusions_ of Satan may be Interwoven into some Circumstances of the _Confessions_; but one would think, all the Rules of Understanding Humane Affairs are at an end, if after so many most Voluntary Harmonious _Confessions_, made by Intelligent Persons of all Ages, in sundry Towns, at several Times, we must not Believe the _main strokes_ wherein those _Confessions_ all agree: especially when we have a thousand preternatural Things every day before our eyes, wherein the _Confessors_ do acknowledge their Concernment, and give Demonstration of their being so Concerned. If the Devils now can strike the minds of men with any _Poisons_ of so fine a Composition and Operation, that Scores of Innocent People shall Unite, in _Confessions_ of a Crime, which we see actually committed, it is a thing prodigious, beyond the Wonders of the former Ages, and it threatens no less than a sort of a Dissolution upon the World. Now, by these _Confessions_ 'tis Agreed, _That_ the Devil has made a dreadful Knot of _Witches_ in the Country, and by the help of _Witches_ has dreadfully increased that Knot: _That_ these _Witches_ have driven a Trade of Commissioning their _Confederate Spirits_, to do all sorts of Mischiefs to the Neighbours, whereupon there have ensued such Mischievous consequences upon the Bodies and Estates of the Neighbourhood, as could not otherwise be accounted for: yea, _That_ at prodigious _Witch-Meetings_, the Wretches have proceeded so far, as to Concert and Consult the Methods of Rooting out the Christian Religion from this Country, and setting up instead of it, perhaps a more gross _Diabolesm_, than ever the World saw before. And yet it will be a thing little short of _Miracle_, if in so _spread_ a Business as this, the Devil should not get in some of his Juggles, to confound the Discovery of all the rest. § III. Doubtless, the Thoughts of many will receive a great Scandal against _New-England_, from the Number of Persons that have been Accused, or Suspected, for _Witchcraft_, in this Country: But it were easie to offer many things, that may Answer and Abate the Scandal. If the Holy God should any where permit the Devils to hook two or three wicked _Scholars_ into _Witchcraft_, and then by their Assistance to Range with their _Poisonous Insinuations_ among Ignorant, Envious, Discontented People, till they have cunningly decoy'd them into some sudden _Act_, whereby the Toyls of Hell shall be perhaps inextricably cast over them: what Country in the World would not afford _Witches_, numerous to a Prodigy? Accordingly, The Kingdoms of _Sweden_, _Denmark_, _Scotland_, yea and _England_ it self, as well as the Province of _New-England_, have had their Storms of _Witchcrafts_ breaking upon them, which have made most Lamentable Devastations: which also I wish, may be _The Last_. And it is not uneasie to be imagined, That God has not brought out all the _Witchcrafts_ in many other Lands with such a speedy, dreadful, destroying _Jealousie_, as burns forth upon such _High Treasons_, committed here in _A Land of Uprightness_: Transgressors may more quickly here than elsewhere become a Prey to the Vengeance of Him, _Who has Eyes like a Flame of Fire_, and, _who walks in the midst of the Golden Candlesticks_. Moreover, There are many parts of the World, who if they do upon this Occasion insult over this People of God, need only to be told the Story of what happen'd at _Loim_, in the Dutchy of _Gulic_, where a Popish Curate having ineffectually try'd many Charms to Eject the Devil out of a Damsel there possessed, he passionately bid the Devil come out of her into himself; but the Devil answered him, _Quid mihi Opus, est eum tentare, quem Novissimo die, Jure Optimo, sum possessurus?_ That is, _What need I meddle with one whom I am sure to have, and hold at the Last-day as my own for ever!_ But besides all this, give me leave to add, it is to be hoped, That among the Persons represented by the _Spectres_ which now afflict our Neighbours, there will be found _some_ that never explicitly contracted with any of the _Evil Angels_. The Witches have not only intimated, but some of them acknowledged, That they have plotted the Representations of _Innocent Persons_, to cover and shelter themselves in their Witchcrafts; now, altho' our good God has hitherto generally preserved us from the Abuse therein design'd by the Devils for us, yet who of us can exactly state, _How far our God may for our Chastisement permit the Devil to proceed in such an Abuse?_ It was the Result of a Discourse, lately held at a Meeting of some very Pious and Learned Ministers among us, _That the Devils may sometimes have a permission to Represent an Innocent Person, as Tormenting such as are under Diabolical Molestations: But that such things are Rare and Extraordinary; especially when such matters come before Civil Judicature._ The Opinion expressed with so much Caution and Judgment, seems to be the prevailing Sense of many others, who are men Eminently Cautious and Judicious; and have both _Argument_ and _History_ to Countenance them in it. It is _Rare and Extraordinary_, for an Honest _Naboth_ to have his Life it self Sworn away by two _Children of Belial_, and yet no Infringement hereby made on the Rectoral Righteousness of our Eternal Soveraign, whose _Judgments are a Great Deep_, and who _gives none Account of His matters_. Thus, although the Appearance of Innocent Persons in _Spectral Exhibitions_ afflicting the Neighbour-hood, be a thing _Rare and Extraordinary_; yet who can be sure, that the great _Belial_ of Hell must needs be always _Yoked_ up from this piece of Mischief? The best man that ever lived has been called a _Witch_: and why may not this too usual and unhappy Symptom of A _Witch_, even a Spectral Representation, befall a person that shall be none of the worst? Is it not possible? The _Laplanders_ will tell us 'tis possible: for Persons to be unwittingly attended with officious _Dæmons_, bequeathed unto them, and impos'd upon them, by Relations that have been _Witches_. _Quæry_, also, Whether at a Time, when the Devil with his Witches are engag'd in a War upon a people, some certain steps of ours, in such a War, may not be follow'd with our appearing so and so for a while among them in the Visions of our afflicted _Forlorns_! And, Who can certainly say, what other Degrees or Methods of sinning, besides that of a _Diabolical Compact_, may give the Devils advantage to act in the Shape of them that have miscarried? Besides what may happen for a while, to try the _Patience_ of the Vertuous. May not some that have been ready upon feeble grounds uncharitably to Censure and Reproach other people, be punished for it by _Spectres_ for a while exposing them to Censure and Reproach? And furthermore, I pray, that it may be considered, Whether a World of Magical Tricks often used in the World, may not insensibly oblige _Devils_ to wait upon the Superstitious Users of them. A Witty Writer against _Sadducism_ has this Observation, That persons who never made any express Contract with _Apostate Spirits_, yet may Act strange Things by _Diabolick Aids_, which they procure by the use of those wicked _Forms_ and _Arts_, that the Devil first imparted unto his Confederates. And he adds, _We know not but the Laws of the Dark Kingdom may Enjoyn a particular Attendance upon all those that practice their Mysteries, whether they know them to be theirs or no._ Some of them that have been cry'd out upon as imploying _Evil Spirits_ to hurt our Land, have been known to be most bloody _Fortune-Tellers_; and some of them have confessed, That when they told _Fortunes_, they would pretend the Rules of _Chiromancy_ and the like Ignorant Sciences, but indeed they had no Rule (they said) but this, _The things were then Darted into their minds._ _Darted!_ Ye Wretches; By whom, I pray? Surely by none but the _Devils_; who, tho' perhaps they did not exactly _Foreknow_ all the thus Predicted Contingencies; yet having once _Foretold_ them, they stood bound in Honour now to use their Interest, which alas, in _This World_, is very great, for the Accomplishment of their own Predictions. There are others, that have used most wicked _Sorceries_ to gratifie their unlawful Curiosities, or to prevent Inconveniencies in Man and Beast; _Sorceries_, which I will not _Name_, lest I should by Naming, _Teach_ them. Now, some _Devil_ is evermore Invited into the Service of the Person that shall Practise these _Witchcrafts_; and if they have gone on Impenitently in these Communions with any _Devil_, the _Devil_ may perhaps become at last a _Familiar_ to them, and so assume their _Livery_, that they cannot shake him off in any way, but that One, which I would most heartily prescribe unto them, Namely, That of a deep and long _Repentance_. Should these _Impieties_ have been committed in such a place as _New-England_, for my part I should not wonder, if when _Devils_ are Exposing the _Grosser_ Witches among us, God permit them to bring in these _Lesser_ ones with the rest for their perpetual Humiliation. In the Issue therefore, may it not be found, that _New-England_ is not so stock'd with _Rattle Snakes_, as was imagined. § IV. But I do not believe, that the progress of _Witchcraft_ among us, is all the Plot which the Devil is managing in the _Witchcraft_ now upon us. It is judged, That the Devil rais'd the Storm, whereof we read in the Eighth Chapter of _Matthew_, on purpose to over-set the little Vessel wherein the Disciples of Our Lord were Embarqued with Him. And it may be fear'd, that in the _Horrible Tempest_ which is now upon ourselves, the design of the Devil is to sink that Happy Settlement of Government, wherewith Almighty God has graciously enclined Their Majesties to favour us. We are blessed with a GOVERNOUR, than whom no man can be more willing to serve Their Majesties, or this their Province: He is continually venturing his _All_ to do it: and were not the Interests of his Prince dearer to him than his own, he could not but soon be weary of the _Helm_, whereat he sits. We are under the Influence of a LIEUTENANT GOVERNOUR, who not only by being admirably accomplished both with Natural and Acquired Endowments, is fitted for the Service of Their Majesties, but also with an unspotted Fidelity applies himself to that Service. Our COUNCELLOURS are some of our most Eminent Persons, and as Loyal Subjects to the Crown, as hearty lovers of their Country. Our Constitution also is attended with singular Priviledges; All which Things are by the Devil exceedingly _Envy'd_ unto us; And the Devil will doubtless take this occasion for the raising of such complaints and clamours, as may be of pernicious consequence unto some part of our present Settlement, if he can so far _Impose_. But that which most of all Threatens us, in our present Circumstances, is the _Misunderstanding_, and so the _Animosity_, whereinto the _Witchcraft_ now Raging, has Enchanted us. The Embroiling, first, of our _Spirits_, and then of our _Affairs_, is evidently as considerable a Branch of the Hellish Intrigue which now vexes us as any one Thing whatsoever. The Devil has made us like a _Troubled Sea_, and the _Mire_ and _Mud_ begins now also to heave up apace. Even Good and Wise Men suffer themselves to fall into their _Paroxysms_; and the Shake which the Devil is now giving us, fetches up the _Dirt_ which before lay still at the bottom of our sinful Hearts. If we allow the Mad Dogs of Hell to poyson us by biting us, we shall imagine that we see nothing but such things about us, and like such things fly upon all that we see. Were it not for what is IN US, for my part, I should not fear a thousand Legions of Devils: 'tis by our Quarrels that we spoil our Prayers; and if our humble, zealous, and united Prayers are once hindred: Alas, the _Philistines_ of Hell have cut our Locks for us; they will then blind us, mock us, ruine us: In truth, I cannot altogether blame it, if People are a little transported, when they conceive all the secular Interests of themselves and their Families at the Stake; and yet at the sight of these Heartburnings, I cannot forbear the Exclamation of the Sweet-spirited _Austin_, in his Pacificatory Epistle to _Jerom_, on the Contest with _Ruffin_, _O misera & miseranda Conditio!_ O Condition, truly miserable! But what shall be done to cure these Distractions? It is wonderfully necessary, that some healing Attempts be made at this time: And I must needs confess (if I may speak so much) like a _Nazianzen_, I am so desirous of a share in them, that if, being thrown overboard, were needful to allay the _Storm_, I should think Dying, a Trifle to be undergone, for so great a Blessedness. § V. I would most importunately in the first place, entreat every Man to maintain an holy Jealousie over his Soul at this time, and think; May not the Devil make me, though ignorantly and unwillingly, to be an Instrument of doing something that he would have to be done? For my part, I freely own my Suspicion, lest something of Enchantment, have reach'd more Persons and Spirits among us, than we are well aware of. But then, let us more generally agree to maintain a kind Opinion one of another. That Charity without which, even our giving our Bodies to be burned would profit nothing, uses to proceed by this Rule; It is kind, it is not easily provok'd, it thinks no Evil, it believes all things, hopes all things. But if we disregard this Rule of Charity, we shall indeed give our Body Politick to be burned. I have heard it affirmed, That in the late great Flood upon _Connecticut_, those Creatures which could not but have quarrelled at another time, yet now being driven together very agreeably stood by one another. I am sure we shall be worse than _Brutes_ if we fly upon one another at a time when the Floods of Belial make us afraid. On the one side; [Alas, my Pen, must thou write the word, _Side_ in the Business?] There are very worthy Men, who having been call'd by God, when and where this Witchcraft first appeared upon the Stage to encounter it, are earnestly desirous to have it sifted unto the bottom of it. And I pray, which of us all that should live under the continual Impressions of the Tortures, Outcries, and Havocks which Devils confessedly Commissioned by Witches make among their distressed Neighbours, would not have a Biass that way beyond other Men? Persons this way disposed have been Men eminent for Wisdom and Vertue, and Men acted by a noble Principle of Conscience: Had not Conscience (of Duty to God) prevailed above other Considerations with them, they would not for all they are worth in the World have medled in this Thorny business. Have there been any disputed Methods used in discovering the Works of Darkness? It may be none but what have had great Presedents in other parts of the World; which may, though not altogether justifie, yet much alleviate a Mistake in us if there should happen to be found any such mistake in so dark a Matter. They have done what they have done, with multiplied Addresses to God for his Guidance, and have not been insensible how much they have exposed themselves in what they have done. Yea, they would gladly contrive and receive an expedient, how the shedding of Blood, might be spared, by the Recovery of Witches, not gone beyond the Reach of Pardon. And after all, they invite all good Men, in Terms to this purpose, 'Being amazed at the Number and Quality of those accused of late, we do not know but Satan by his Wiles may have enwrapped some innocent Persons; and therefore should earnestly and humbly desire the most Critical Enquiry upon the place, to find out the Falacy; that there may be none of the Servants of the Lord, with the Worshippers of _Baal_.' I may also add, That whereas, if once a Witch do ingeniously confess among us, no more _Spectres_ do in their Shapes after this, trouble the Vicinage; if any guilty Creatures will accordingly to so good purpose confess their Crime to any Minister of God, and get out of the Snare of the Devil, as no Minister will discover such a Conscientious Confession, so I believe none in the Authority will press him to discover it; but rejoyc'd in a Soul sav'd from Death. On the other side [if I must again use the word _Side_, which yet I hope to live to blot out] there are very worthy Men, who are not a little dissatisfied at the Proceedings in the Prosecution of this Witchcraft. And why? Not because they would have any such abominable thing, defended from the Strokes of Impartial Justice. No, those Reverend Persons who gave in this Advice unto the Honourable Council; 'That Presumptions, whereupon Persons may be Committed, and much more Convictions, whereupon Persons may be Condemned, as guilty of Witchcrafts, ought certainly to be more considerable, than barely the Accused Persons being represented by a _Spectre_ unto the Afflicted; Nor are Alterations made in the Sufferers, by a Look or Touch of the Accused, to be esteemed an infallible Evidence of Guilt; but frequently liable to be abused by the Devils Legerdemains': I say, those very Men of God most conscientiously Subjoined this Article to that Advice,--'Nevertheless we cannot but humbly recommend unto the Government, the speedy and vigorous Prosecution of such as have rendred themselves Obnoxious; according to the best Directions given in the Laws of God, and the wholsome Statutes of the _English_ Nation for the Detection of Witchcraft.' Only 'tis a most commendable Cautiousness, in those gracious Men, to be very shye lest the Devil get so far into our Faith, as that for the sake of many Truths which we find he tells us, we come at length to believe any Lyes, wherewith he may abuse us: whereupon, what a Desolation of Names would soon ensue, besides a thousand other pernicious Consequences? and lest there should be any such Principles taken up, as when put into Practice must unavoidably cause the _Righteous to perish with the Wicked_; or procure the Bloodshed of any Persons, like the _Gibeonites_, whom some learned Men suppose to be under a false Notion of Witches, by _Saul_ exterminated. They would have all due steps taken for the Extinction of Witches; but they would fain have them to be sure ones; nor is it from any thing, but the real and hearty goodness of such Men, that they are loth to surmise ill of other Men, till there be the fullest Evidence for the surmises. As for the Honourable Judges that have been hitherto in the Commission, they are above my Consideration: wherefore I will only say thus much of them, That such of them as I have the Honour of a Personal Acquaintance with, are Men of an excellent Spirit; and as at first they went about the work for which they were Commission'd, with a very great aversion, so they have still been under Heart-breaking Sollicitudes, how they might therein best serve both God and Man? In fine, Have there been faults on any side fallen into? Surely, they have at worst been but the faults of a well-meaning Ignorance. On every side then, why should not we endeavour with amicable Correspondencies, to help one another out of the Snares wherein the Devil would involve us? To wrangle the Devil out of the Country, will be truly a New Experiment: Alas! we are not aware of the Devil, if we do not think, that he aims at inflaming us one against another; and shall we suffer our selves to be Devil-ridden? or by any unadvisableness contribute unto the Widening of our Breaches? To say no more, there is a published and credible Relation; which affirms, That very lately in a part of _England_, where some of the Neighbourhood were quarrelling, a _Raven_ from the Top of a Tree very articulately and unaccountably cry'd out, _Read the Third of Colossians and the Fifteenth!_ Were I my self to chuse what sort of Bird I would be transformed into, I would say, _O that I had wings like a Dove!_ Nevertheless, I will for once do the Office, which as it seems, Heaven sent that Raven upon; even to beg, _That the Peace of God may Rule in our Hearts._ § VI. 'Tis necessary that we unite in every thing: but there are especially two Things wherein our Union must carry us along together. We are to unite in our Endeavours to deliver our distressed Neighbours, from the horrible Annoyances and Molestations with which a dreadful Witchcraft is now persecuting of them. To have an hand in any thing, that may stifle or obstruct a Regular Detection of that Witchcraft, is what we may well with an holy fear avoid. Their Majesties good Subjects must not every day be torn to pieces by horrid Witches, and those bloody Felons, be left wholly unprosecuted. The Witchcraft is a business that will not be sham'd, without plunging us into sore Plagues, and of long continuance. But then we are to unite in such Methods for this deliverance, as may be unquestionably safe, lest _the latter end be worse than the beginning_. And here, what shall I say? I will venture to say thus much, That we are safe, when we make just as much use of all Advice from the invisible World, as God sends it for. It is a safe Principle, That when God Almighty permits any Spirits from the unseen Regions, to visit us with surprizing Informations, there is then something to be enquired after; we are then to enquire of one another, What Cause there is for such things? The peculiar Government of God, over the unbodied Intelligences, is a sufficient Foundation for this Principle. When there has been a Murder committed, an Apparition of the slain Party accusing of any Man, altho' such Apparitions have oftner spoke true than false, is not enough to Convict the Man as guilty of that Murder; but yet it is a sufficient occasion for Magistrates to make a particular Enquiry, whether such a Man have afforded any ground for such an Accusation. Even so a Spectre exactly resembling such or such a Person, when the Neighbourhood are tormented by such Spectres, may reasonably make Magistrates inquisitive whether the Person so represented have done or said any thing that may argue their confederacy with Evil Spirits, altho' it may be defective enough in point of Conviction; especially at a time, when 'tis possible, some over-powerful Conjurer may have got the skill of thus exhibiting the Shapes of all sorts of Persons, on purpose to stop the Prosecution of the Wretches, whom due Enquiries thus provoked, might have made obnoxious unto Justice. _Quære_, Whether if God would have us to proceed any further than bare _Enquiry_, upon what Reports there may come against any Man, from the World of _Spirits_, he will not by his Providence at the same time have brought into our hands, these more evident and sensible things, whereupon a man is to be esteemed a Criminal. But I will venture to say this further, that it will be safe to account the Names as well as the Lives of our Neighbors; two considerable things to be brought under a Judicial Process, until it be found by Humane Observations that the Peace of Mankind is thereby disturbed. We are Humane Creatures, and we are safe while we say, they must be Humane Witnesses, who also have in the particular Act of Seeing, or Hearing, which enables them to be Witnesses, had no more than Humane Assistances, that are to turn the Scale when Laws are to be executed. And upon this Head I will further add: A wise and a just Magistrate, may so far give way to a common Stream of Dissatisfaction, as to forbear acting up to the heighth of his own Perswasion, about what may be judged convictive of a Crime, whose Nature shall be so abstruse and obscure, as to raise much Disputation. Tho' he may not do what he should leave undone, yet he may leave undone something that else he could do, when the Publick Safety makes an _Exigency_. § VII. I was going to make one Venture more; that is, to offer some safe Rules, for the finding out of the Witches, which are at this day our accursed Troublers: but this were a Venture too _Presumptuous_ and _Icarian_ for me to make; I leave that unto those Excellent and Judicious Persons, with whom I am not worthy to be numbred: All that I shall do, shall be to lay before my Readers, a brief _Synopsis_ of what has been written on that Subject, by a Triumvirate of as Eminent Persons as have ever handled it. I will begin with, AN ABSTRACT OF MR. PERKINS'S WAY FOR THE DISCOVERY OF WITCHES. I. _There are +Presumptions+, which do at least probably and conjecturally note one to be a +Witch+. These give occasion to Examine, yet they are no sufficient Causes of Conviction._ II. _If any Man or Woman be notoriously defamed for a +Witch+, this yields a strong Suspition. Yet the Judge ought carefully to look, that the Report be made by +Men+ of Honesty and Credit._ III. _If a +Fellow-Witch+, or +Magician+, give Testimony of any Person to be a +Witch+; this indeed is not sufficient for Condemnation; but it is a fit Presumption to cause a strait Examination._ IV. _If after Cursing there follow Death, or at least some mischief: for +Witches+ are wont to practise their mischievous Facts, by Cursing and Banning: This also is a sufficient matter of Examination, tho' not of Conviction._ V. _If after Enmity, Quarrelling, or Threatning, a present mischief does follow; that also is a great Presumption._ VI. _If the Party suspected be the Son or Daughter, the man-servant or maid-servant, the Familiar Friend, near Neighbor, or old Companion, of a known and convicted Witch; this may be likewise a Presumption; for Witchcraft is an Art that may be learned, and conveyed from man to man._ VII. _Some add this for a Presumption: If the Party suspected be found to have the Devil's mark; for it is commonly thought, when the Devil makes his Covenant with them, he alwaies leaves his mark behind them, whereby he knows them for his own:--a mark whereof no evident Reason in Nature can be given._ VIII. _Lastly, If the party examined be Unconstant, or contrary to himself, in his deliberate Answers, it argueth a Guilty Conscience, which stops the freedom of Utterance. And yet there are causes of Astonishment, which may befal the Good, as well as the Bad._ IX. _But then there is a +Conviction+, discovering the +Witch+, which must proceed from just and sufficient proofs, and not from bare presumptions._ X. _Scratching of the suspected party, and Recovery thereupon, with several other such weak Proofs; as also, the fleeting of the suspected Party, thrown upon the Water; these Proofs are so far from being sufficient, that some of them are, after a sort, practices of Witchcraft._ XI. _The Testimony of some Wizzard, tho' offering to shew the Witches Face in a Glass: This, I grant, may be a good Presumption, to cause a strait Examination; but a sufficient Proof of Conviction it cannot be. If the Devil tell the Grand Jury, that the person in question is a Witch, and offers withal to confirm the same by Oath, should the Inquest receive his Oath or Accusation to condemn the man? Assuredly no. And yet, that is as much as the Testimony of another Wizzard, who only by the Devil's help reveals the Witch._ XII. _If a man, being dangerously sick, and like to dye, upon Suspicion, will take it on his Death, that such a one hath bewitched him, it is an Allegation of the same nature, which may move the Judge to examine the Party, but it is of no moment for Conviction._ XIII. _Among the sufficient means of Conviction, the first is, the free and voluntary Confession of the Crime, made by the party suspected and accused, after Examination. I say not, that a bare confession is sufficient, but a Confession after due Examination, taken upon pregnant presumptions. What needs now more witness or further Enquiry?_ XIV. _There is a second sufficient Conviction, by the Testimony of two Witnesses, of good and honest Report, avouching before the Magistrate, upon their own Knowledge, these two things: either that the party accused hath made a League with the Devil, or hath done some known practice of witchcraft. And, +all Arguments that do necessarily prove either of these+, being brought by two sufficient Witnesses, are of force fully to convince the party suspected._ XV. _If it can be proved, that the party suspected hath called upon the +Devil+, or desired his Help, this is a pregnant proof of a League formerly made between them._ XVI. _If it can be proved, that the party hath entertained a Familiar Spirit, and had Conference with it, in the likeness of some visible Creatures; here is Evidence of witchcraft._ XVII. _If the witnesses affirm upon Oath, that the suspected person hath done any action or work which necessarily infers a Covenant made, as, that he hath used Enchantments, divined things before they come to pass, and that peremptorily, raised Tempests, caused the Form of a dead man to appear; it proveth sufficiently, that he or she is a +Witch+._ This is the Substance of Mr. _Perkins_. Take next the Sum of Mr. _Gaules_ Judgment about the Detection of Witches. '1. Some Tokens for the Trial of Witches, are altogether unwarrantable. Such are the old Paganish Sign, the Witches _Long Eyes_; the Tradition of Witches not weeping; the casting of the Witch into the Water, with Thumbs and Toes ty'd a-cross. And many more such Marks, which if they are to know a Witch by, certainly 'tis no other Witch, but the User of them. 2. There are some Tokens for the Trial of Witches, more probable, and yet not so certain as to afford Conviction. Such are strong and long Suspicion: Suspected Ancestors, some appearance of Fact, the Corps bleeding upon the Witches touch, the Testimony of the Party bewitched, the supposed Witches unusual Bodily marks, the Witches usual Cursing and Banning, the Witches lewd and naughty kind of Life. 3. Some Signs there are of a Witch, more certain and infallible. As, _firstly_, Declining of Judicature, or faultering, faulty, unconstant, and contrary Answers, upon judicial and deliberate examination. _Secondly_, When upon due Enquiry into a person's Faith and Manners, there are found _all_ or _most_ of the Causes which produce Witchcraft, namely, _God_ forsaking, _Satan_ invading, particular _Sins_ disposing; and lastly, a compact compleating all. _Thirdly_, The Witches free Confession, together with full Evidence of the Fact. _Confession_ without _Fact_ may be a meer Delusion, and _Fact_ without _Confession_ may be a meer Accident. _4thly_, The semblable Gestures and Actions of suspected Witches, with the comparable Expressions of Affections, which in all Witches have been observ'd and found very much alike. _Fifthly_, The Testimony of the Party bewitched, whether pining or dying, together with the joynt Oaths of sufficient persons, that have seen certain prodigious Pranks or Feats, wrought by the Party accused. 4. Among the most unhappy circumstances to convict a Witch, one is, a maligning and oppugning the Word, Work, and Worship of God, and by any extraordinary sign seeking to seduce any from it. See _Deut. 13.1, 2._, _Mat. 24.24._, _Act. 13.8, 10._, _2 Tim. 3.8._ Do but mark well the places, and for this very Property (of thus opposing and perverting) they are all there concluded arrant and absolute Witches. 5. It is not requisite, that so _palpable Evidence of Conviction_ should here come in, as in other more sensible matters; 'tis enough, if there be but so much _circumstantial_ Proof or Evidence, as the Substance, Matter, and Nature of such an abstruse Mystery of Iniquity will well admit. [_I suppose he means, that whereas in other Crimes we look for more direct proofs, in this there is a greater use of consequential ones._] But I could heartily wish, that the Juries were empanell'd of the most eminent Physicians, Lawyers, and Divines that a Country could afford. In the mean time 'tis not to be called a Toleration, if Witches escape, where Conviction is wanting.' To this purpose our _Gaule_. I will transcribe a little from one Author more, 'tis the Judicious _Bernard_ of _Batcomb_, who in his _Guide to grand Jurymen_, after he has mention'd several things that are shrewd Presumptions of a Witch, proceeds to such things as are the _Convictions_ of such an one. And he says, '_A witch in league with the +Devil+ is convicted by these Evidences;_ I. By a witches _Mark_; which is upon the Baser sort of Witches; and this, by the Devils either Sucking or Touching of them. _Tertullian_ says, _It is the Devils custome to mark his._ And note, That this mark is _Insensible_, and being prick'd it will not Bleed. Sometimes, its like a _Teate_; sometimes but a _Blewish Spot_; sometimes a _Red_ one; and sometimes the _flesh Sunk_: but the Witches do sometimes cover them. II. By the Witches _Words_. As when they have been heard calling on, speaking to, or Talking of their _Familiars_; or, when they have been heard _Telling_ of _Hurt_ they have done to man or beast: Or when they have been heard _Threatning_ of such Hurt; Or if they have been heard Relating their _Transportations_. III. By the Witches _Deeds_. As when they have been _seen_ with their Spirits, or seen secretly Feeding any of their _Imps_. Or, when there can be found their Pictures, Poppets, and other Hellish Compositions. IV. By the Witches _Extasies_: With the Delight whereof, Witches are so taken, that they will hardly conceal the same: Or, however at some time or other, they may be found in them. V. By one or more _Fellow-Witches_, Confessing their own Witchcraft, and bearing Witness against others; if they can make good the Truth of their Witness, and give sufficient proof of it. As, that they have seen them with their Spirits or, that they have Received Spirits from them; or that they can tell, when they used Witchery-Tricks to Do Harm; or, that they told them what Harm they had done; or that they can show the mark upon them; or, that they have been together in their Meetings; and such like. VI. By some _Witness of God_ Himself, happening upon the Execrable Curses of Witches upon themselves, Praying of God to show some Token, if they be Guilty. VII. By the Witches own _Confession_, of Giving their Souls to the Devil. It is no Rare thing, for Witches to Confess.' They are Considerable Things, which I have thus Recited; and yet it must be with _Open Eyes_, kept upon _Open Rules_, that we are to follow these things, _S._ 8. But _Juries_ are not the only Instruments to be imploy'd in such a Work; all _Christians_ are to be concerned with daily and fervent _Prayers_, for the assisting of it. In the Days of _Athanasius_, the Devils were found unable to stand before, that Prayer, however then used perhaps with too much of Ceremony, _Let God Arise, Let his Enemies be Scattered. Let them also that Hate Him, flee before Him._ O that instead of letting our Hearts _Rise_ against one another, our Prayers might _Rise_ unto an high pitch of Importunity, for such a _Rising_ of the Lord! Especially, Let them that are _Suffering_ by _Witchcraft_, be sure to _stay_ and _pray_, and _Beseech the Lord thrice_, even as much as ever they can, before they complain of any Neighbour for afflicting them. Let them also that are _accused_ of _Witchcraft_, set themselves to _Fast_ and _Pray_, and so shake off the _Dæmons_ that would like _Vipers_ fasten upon them; and get the _Waters of Jealousie_ made profitable to them. And Now, _O Thou Hope of +New-England+, and the Saviour thereof in the Time of Trouble; Do thou look mercifully down upon us, & Rescue us, out of the Trouble which at this time do's threaten to swallow us up. Let Satan be shortly bruised under our Feet, and Let the Covenanted Vassals of Satan, which have Traiterously brought him in upon us, be Gloriously Conquered, by thy Powerful and Gracious Presence in the midst of us. Abhor us not, O God, but cleanse us, but heal us, but save us, for the sake of thy Glory. Enwrapped in our Salvations. By thy Spirit, Lift up a standard against our infernal adversaries, Let us quickly find thee making of us glad, according to the Days wherein we have been afflicted. Accept of all our Endeavours to glorify thee, in the Fires that are upon us; and among the rest, Let these my poor and weak essays, composed with what Tears, what Cares, what Prayers, thou +only+ knowest, not want the Acceptance of the Lord._ A DISCOURSE ON THE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD. UTTERED (IN PART) ON AUG. 4, 1692. Ecclesiastical History has Reported it unto us, That a Renowned Martyr at the Stake, seeing the Book of the REVELATION thrown by his no less Profane than Bloody Persecutors, to be Burn'd in the same Fire with himself, he cryed out, _O Beata Apocalypsis; quam bene mecum agitur, qui tecum Comburar!_ BLESSED REVELATION! said he, _How Blessed am I in this Fire, while I have Thee to bear me Company._ As for our selves this Day, 'tis a Fire of sore Affliction and Confusion, wherein we are Embroiled; but it is no inconsiderable Advantage unto us, that we have the Company of this Glorious and Sacred Book the REVELATION to assist us in our Exercises. From that Book there is one Text, which I would single out at this time to lay before you; 'tis that in REVEL. XII. 12. _Wo to the Inhabitants of the Earth, and of the Sea; for the Devil is come down unto you, having great Wrath; because he knoweth, that he hath but a short time._ The Text is Like the Cloudy and Fiery Pillar, vouchsafed unto _Israel_, in the Wilderness of old; there is a very _dark side_ of it in the Intimation, that, _The Devil is come down having great Wrath;_ but it has also a _bright side_, when it assures us, that, _He has but a short time;_ Unto the Contemplation of _both_, I do this Day Invite you. We have in our Hands a Letter from our Ascended Lord in Heaven, to Advise us of his being still alive, and of his Purpose e're long, to give us a Visit, wherein we shall see our Living _Redeemer_, _stand at the latter day upon the Earth_. 'Tis the last Advice that we have had from Heaven, for now sixteen Hundred years; and the scope of it, is, to represent how the Lord Jesus Christ having begun to set up his Kingdom in the World, by the preaching of the Gospel, he would from time to time utterly break to pieces all Powers that should make Head against it, until, _The Kingdoms of this World are become the Kingdomes of our Lord, and of his Christ, and he shall Reign for ever and ever._ 'Tis a Commentary on what had been written by _Daniel_, about, _The fourth Monarchy_; with some Touches upon, _The Fifth_; wherein, _The greatness of the Kingdom under the whole Heaven, shall be given to the people of the Saints of the most High:_ And altho' it have, as 'tis expressed by one of the Ancients, _Tot Sacramenta quot verba_, a Mystery in every Syllable, yet it is not altogether to be neglected with such a Despair, as that, _I cannot Read, for the Book is Sealed._ It is a REVELATION, and a singular, and notable _Blessing_ is pronounc'd upon them that humbly study it. The Divine Oracles, have with a most admirable Artifice and Carefulness, drawn, as the very pious _Beverley_, has laboriously Evinced, an exact LINE OF TIME, from the first Sabbath at the _Creation_ of the World, unto the great Sabbatism at the _Restitution_ of all Things. In that famous _Line of Time_, from the Decree for the Restoring of _Jerusalem_, after the _Babylonish_ Captivity, there seem to remain a matter of _Two Thousand and Three Hundred Years_, unto that _New Jerusalem_, whereto the Church is to be advanced, when the Mystical _Babylon_ shall be _fallen_. At the Resurrection of our Lord, there were seventeen or eighteen Hundred of those Years, yet upon the Line, to run unto, _The rest which remains for the People of God_; and this Remnant in the _Line of Time_, is here in our _Apocalypse_, variously Embossed, Adorned, and Signalized with such Distinguishing Events, if we mind them, will help us escape that Censure, _Can ye not Discern the Signs of the Times?_ The Apostle _John_, for the View of these Things, had laid before him, as I conceive, a _Book_, with leaves, or folds; which _Volumn_ was written both on the _Backside_, and on the _Inside_, and Roll'd up in a Cylindriacal Form, under seven _Labels_, fastned with so many _Seals_. The first _Seal_ being opened, and the first _Label_ removed, under the first _Label_ the Apostle saw what he saw, of a first _Rider_ Pourtray'd, and so on, till the last _Seal_ was broken up; each of the Sculptures being enlarged with agreeable _Visions_ and _Voices_, to illustrate it. The Book being now Unrolled, there were _Trumpets_, with wonderful Concomitants, Exhibited successively on the Expanding _Backside_ of it. Whereupon the Book was _Eaten_, as it were to be Hidden, from Interpretations; till afterwards, in the _Inside_ of it, the Kingdom of Anti-christ came to be Exposed. Thus, the Judgments of God on the _Roman Empire_, first unto the Downfal of _Paganism_, and then, unto the Downfal of _Popery_, which is but Revived _Paganism_, are in these Displayes, with Lively Colours and Features made sensible unto us. Accordingly, in the Twelfth Chapter of this Book, we have an August Preface, to the Description of that Horrid _Kingdom_, which our Lord Christ refused, but Antichrist accepted, from the Devils Hands; a Kingdom, which for _Twelve Hundred and Sixty_ Years together, was to be a continual oppression upon the People of God, and opposition unto his Interests; until the Arrival of that Illustrious Day, wherein, _The Kingdom shall be the Lords, and he shall be Governour among the Nations._ The Chapter is (as an Excellent Person calls it) an _Extravasated Account_ of the Circumstances, which befell the _Primitive Church_, during the first Four or Five Hundred Years of Christianity: It shows us the Face of the Church, first in _Rome_ Heathenish, and then in _Rome_ Converted, before the _Man of Sin_ was yet come to _Mans Estate_. Our Text contains the Acclamations made upon the most Glorious Revolution that ever yet happened upon the Roman Empire; namely, That wherein the Travailing Church brought forth a Christian Emperour. This was a most Eminent _Victory_ over the Devil, and _Resemblance_ of the State, wherein the World, ere long shall see, _The Kingdom of our God, and the Power of his Christ_. It is here noted, First, As a matter of _Triumph_. 'Tis said, _Rejoyce, ye Heavens, and ye that dwell in them._ The Saints in both Worlds, took the Comfort of this Revolution; the Devout Ones that had outlived the late Persecutions, were filled with Transporting Joys, when they saw the _Christian_ become the _Imperial_ Religion, and when they saw Good Men come to give Law unto the rest of Mankind; the Deceased Ones also, whose Blood had been Sacrificed in the Ten Persecutions, doubtless made the Light Regions to ring with _Hallelujahs_ unto God, when there were brought unto them, the Tidings of the Advances now given to the _Christian_ Religion, for which they had suffered _Martyrdom_. Secondly, As a matter of _Horror_. 'Tis said, _Wo to the Inhabiters of the Earth and of the Sea._ The _Earth_ still means the _False Church_, the _Sea_ means the _Wide World_, in Prophetical Phrasæology. There was yet left a vast party of Men that were Enemies to the Christian Religion, in the power of it; a vast party left for the Devil to work upon: Unto these is a _Wo_ denounced; and why so? 'Tis added, _For the Devil is come down unto you, having great Wrath, because he knows, that he has but a short time._ These were, it seems, to have some desperate and peculiar Attempts of the Devil made upon them. In the mean time, we may Entertain this for our Doctrine, _Great Wo proceeds from the Great WRATH, with which the DEVIL, towards the end of his TIME, will make a DESCENT upon a miserable World._ I have now Published a most awful and solemn Warning for our selves at this day; which has four _Propositions_, comprehended in it. _Proposition I._ That there is a _Devil_, is a thing Doubted by none but such as are under the Influences of the _Devil_. For any to deny the Being of a _Devil_ must be from an Ignorance or Profaneness, worse than _Diabolical_. _A Devil._ What is _that_? We have a Definition of the Monster, in _Eph. 6.12._ _A Spiritual Wickedness_, that is, _A wicked Spirit_. A Devil is a _Fallen Angel_, an Angel _Fallen_ from the Fear and Love of God, and from all Celestial Glories; but _Fallen_ to all manner of Wretchedness and Cursedness. He was once in that Order of Heavenly Creatures, which God in the Beginning made _Ministering Spirits_, for his own peculiar Service and Honour, in the management of the Universe; but we may now write that Epitaph upon him, _How art thou fallen from Heaven! thou hast said in thine Heart, I will Exalt my Throne above the Stars of God; but thou art brought down to Hell!_ A Devil is a _Spiritual_ and _Rational_ Substance, by his _Apostacy_ from God, inclined unto all that is Vicious, and for that _Apostacy_ confined unto the Atmosphere of this Earth, _in Chains under Darkness, unto the Judgment of the Great Day_. This is a _Devil_; and the _Experience_ of Mankind as well as the _Testimony_ of Scripture, does abundantly prove the Existence of such a Devil. About this _Devil_, there are many things, whereof we may reasonably and profitably be Inquisitive; such things, I mean, as are in our Bibles Reveal'd unto us; according to which if we do not speak, on so _dark_ a Subject, but according to our own uncertain, and perhaps humoursome Conjectures, _There is no Light in us._ I will carry you with me, but unto one Paragraph of the Bible, to be informed of three Things, relating to the _Devil_; 'tis the Story of the _Gadaren Energumen_, in the fifth Chapter of _Mark_. First, then, 'Tis to be granted; the _Devils_ are so many, that some Thousands, can sometimes at once apply themselves to vex one Child of Man. It is said, in _Mark 5.15._ _He that was Possessed with the Devil, had the Legion._ Dreadful to be spoken! A _Legion_ consisted of Twelve Thousand Five Hundred People: And we see that in one Man or two, so many _Devils_ can be spared for a Garrison. As the Prophet cryed out, _Multitudes, Multitudes, in the Valley of Decision!_ So I say, _There are multitudes, multitudes, in the valley of Destruction, where the Devils are!_ When we speak of, _The Devil_, 'tis, _A name of Multitude_; it means not _One_ Individual Devil, so Potent and Scient, as perhaps a _Manichee_ would imagine; but it means a _Kind_, which a _Multitude_ belongs unto. Alas, the _Devils_, they swarm about us, like the _Frogs of Egypt_, in the most Retired of our Chambers. Are we at our _Boards_? There will be Devils to Tempt us unto Sensuality: Are we in our _Beds_? There will be Devils to Tempt us unto Carnality; Are we in our _Shops_? There will be Devils to Tempt us into Dishonesty. Yea, Tho' we get into the Church of God, there will be Devils to Haunt us in the very _Temple_ it self, and there tempt us to manifold Misbehaviours. I am verily perswaded, That there are very few Humane Affairs whereinto some Devils are not Insinuated; There is not so much as a _Journey_ intended, but _Satan_ will have an hand in _hindering_ or _furthering_ of it. Secondly, 'Tis to be supposed, That there is a sort of Arbitrary, even Military _Government_, among the _Devils_. This is intimated, when in _Mar. 5.9._ _The unclean Spirit said, My Name is Legion:_ they are such a Discipline as _Legions_ use to be. Hence we read about, _The Prince of the power of the Air_: Our _Air_ has a _power_? or an Army of Devils in the _High Places_ of it; and these Devils have a _Prince_ over them, who is _King over the Children of Pride_. 'Tis probable, That the Devil, who was the Ringleader of that mutinous and rebellious Crew, which first shook off the Authority of God, is now the General of those Hellish Armies; Our Lord, that Conquered him, has told us the Name of him; 'tis _Belzebub_; 'tis he that is _the Devil_, and the rest are _his Angels_, or his Souldiers. Think on vast Regiments of cruel and bloody _French Dragoons_, with an _Intendant_ over them, overrunning a pillaged Neighbourhood, and you will think a little, what the Constitution among the _Devils_ is. Thirdly, 'tis to be supposed, that some _Devils_ are more peculiarly _Commission'd_, and perhaps _Qualify'd_, for some Countries, while others are for others. This is intimated when in _Mar. 5.10._ The Devils _besought_ our Lord much, _that he would not send them away out of the Countrey_. Why was that? But in all probability, because _these Devils_ were more able to _do the works of the Devil_, in such a Countrey, than in another. It is not likely that every Devil does know every _Language_; or that every Devil can do every _Mischief_. 'Tis possible, that the _Experience_, or, if I may call it so, the _Education_ of all Devils is not alike, and that there may be some difference in their _Abilities_. If one might make an Inference from what the Devils _do_, to what they _are_, One cannot forbear dreaming, that there are _degrees_ of Devils. Who can allow, that such Trifling _Dæmons_, as that of _Mascon_, or those that once infested our _New berry_, are of so much Grandeur, as those _Dæmons_, whose Games are mighty Kingdoms? Yea, 'tis certain, that all Devils do not make a like Figure in the _Invisible World_. Nor does it look agreeably, That the _Dæmons_, which were the Familiars of such a Man as the old _Apollonius_, differ not from those baser Goblins that chuse to Nest in the filthy and loathsom Rags of a beastly Sorceress. Accordingly, why may not some Devils be more accomplished for what is to be done in such and such places, when others must be _detach'd_ for other Territories? Each Devil, as he sees his advantage, cries out, _Let me be in this Countrey, rather than another._ But _Enough_, if not _too much_, of these things. _Proposition II._ There is a Devilish _Wrath_ against _Mankind_, with which the _Devil_ is for _God's sake_ Inspired. The Devil is himself broiling under the intollerable and interminable _Wrath_ of God; and a fiery _Wrath_ at God, is, that which the Devil is for that cause Enflamed. Methinks I see the posture of the Devils in _Isa. 8.21._ _They fret themselves, and Curse their God, and look upward._ The first and chief _Wrath_ of the Devil, is at the Almighty God himself; he knows, _The God that made him, will not have mercy on him, and the God that formed him, will shew him no favour;_ and so he can have no _Kindness_ for that God, who has no _Mercy_, nor _Favour_ for him. Hence 'tis, that he cannot bear the _Name_ of God should be acknowledged in the World: Every Acknowledgement paid unto _God_, is a fresh drop of the burning Brimstone falling upon the Devil; he does make his Insolent, tho Impotent Batteries, even upon the _Throne_ of God himself: and foolishly affects to have himself exalted unto that _Glorious High Throne_, by all people, as he sometimes is, by Execrable _Witches_. This horrible Dragon does not only with his Tayl strike at the _Stars of God_, but at the God himself, who made the _Stars_, being desirous to out-shine them all. God and the Devil are sworn Enemies to each other; the Terms between them, are those, in _Zech. 11.18._ _My Soul loathed them, and their Soul also abhorred me._ And from this Furious _wrath_, or Displeasure and Prejudice at God, proceeds the Devils _wrath_ at us, the poor Children of Men. Our doing the _Service_ of God, is one thing that exposes us to the _wrath_ of the Devil. We are the _High Priests_ of the World; when all Creatures are called upon, _Praise ye the Lord_, they bring to us those demanded _Praises_ of God, saying, _do you offer them for us._ Hence 'tis, that the Devil has a Quarrel with us, as he had with the _High-Priest_ in the Vision of Old. Our bearing the Image of God is another thing that brings the _wrath_ of the Devil upon us. As a _Tyger_, thro his Hatred at man will tear the very Picture of him, if it come in his way; such a _Tyger_ the Devil is; because God said of old, _Let us make Man in our Image_, the Devil is ever saying, _Let us pull this man to pieces_. But the envious _Pride_ of the Devil, is one thing more that gives an Edge unto his Furious _Wrath_ against us. The Apostle has given us an hint, as if _Pride_ had been the _Condemnation of the Devil_. 'Tis not unlikely, that the Devil's _Affectation_ to be above that Condition which he might learn that Mankind was to be preferr'd unto, might be the occasion of his taking up Arms against the _Immortal King_. However, the Devil now sees _Man_ lying in the Bosom of God, but _himself_ damned in the bottom of Hell; and this enrages him exceedingly; _O_, says he, _I cannot bear it, that man should not be as miserable as my self._ _Proposition III._ The _Devil_, in the prosecution, and the execution of his _wrath_ upon them, often gets a _Liberty_ to make a _Descent_ upon the Children of men. When the Devil _does hurt_ unto us, he _comes down_ unto us; for the Rendezvouze of the _Infernal Troops_, is indeed in the _supernal parts_ of our Air. But as 'tis said, _A sparrow of the Air does not fall down without the will of God;_ so I may say, _Not a Devil in the Air, can come down without the leave of God._ Of this we have a famous Instance in that Arabian Prince, of whom the Devil was not able so much as to _Touch_ any thing, till the most high God gave him a permission, to _go down_. The Devil stands with all the Instruments of death, aiming at us, and begging of the Lord, as that King ask'd for the Hood-wink'd _Syrians_ of old, _Shall I smite 'em, shall I smite 'em?_ He cannot strike a blow, till the Lord say, _Go down and smite_, but sometimes he _does_ obtain from the _high possessor of Heaven and Earth_, a License for the doing of it. The Devil sometimes does make most rueful Havock among us; but still we may say to him, as our Lord said unto a great Servant of his, _Thou couldest have no power against me, except it were given thee from above._ The Devil is called in _1 Pet. 5.8._ _Your Adversary_. This is a Law-term; and it notes _An Adversary at Law_. The Devil cannot come at us, except in some sence according to _Law_; but sometimes he does procure sad things to be inflicted, according to the _Law_ of the eternal King upon us. The Devil first _goes up_ as an _Accuser_ against us. He is therefore styled _The Accuser_; and it is on this account, that his proper Name does belong unto him. There is a Court somewhere kept; a Court of Spirits, where the Devil enters all sorts of Complaints against us all; he charges us with manifold _sins_ against the Lord our God: _There_ he loads us with heavy _Imputations_ of Hypocrysie, Iniquity, Disobedience; whereupon he urges, _Lord, let 'em now have the death, which is their wages, paid unto 'em!_ If our _Advocate_ in the Heavens do not now take off his Libels; the Devil, then, with a Concession of God, _comes down_, as a _destroyer_ upon us. Having first been an _Attorney_, to bespeak that the Judgments of Heaven may be ordered for us, he then also pleads, that he may be the _Executioner_ of those Judgments; and the God of Heaven sometimes after a sort, signs a Warrant, for this _destroying Angel_, to do what has been _desired_ to be done for the _destroying of men_. But such a _permission_ from God, for the Devil to _come down_, and _break in_ upon mankind, oftentimes must be accompany'd with a _Commission_ from some wretches of mankind it self. Every man is, as 'tis hinted in _Gen. 4.9._ _His brother's keeper_. We are to _keep_ one another from the Inroads of the Devil, by mutual and cordial Wishes of prosperity to one another. When ungodly people give their _Consents_ in _witchcrafts_ diabolically performed, for the Devil to annoy their Neighbours, he finds a breach made in the Hedge about us, whereat he Rushes in upon us, with grievous molestations. Yea, when the impious people, that never saw the Devil, do but utter their _Curses_ against their Neighbours, those are so many _watch words_, whereby the Mastives of Hell are animated presently to fall upon us. 'Tis thus, that the Devil gets _leave_ to worry us. _Proposition IV._ Most horrible _woes_ come to be inflicted upon Mankind, when the _Devil_ does in _great wrath_, make a _descent_ upon them. The _Devil_ is a _Do-Evil_, and wholly set upon mischief. When our Lord once was going to _Muzzel_ him, that he might not mischief others, he cry'd out, _Art thou come to torment me?_ He is, it seems, himself _Tormented_, if he be but _Restrained_ from the tormenting of Men. If upon the sounding of the Three last _Apocalyptical Angels_, it was an outcry made in Heaven, _Wo, wo, wo, to the inhabitants of the Earth by reason of the voice of the Trumpet._ I am sure, a _descent_ made by the Angel of _death_, would give cause for the like Exclamation: _Wo to the world, by reason of the wrath of the Devil!_ what a _woful_ plight, mankind would by the descent of the Devil be brought into, may be gathered from the _woful_ pains, and wounds, and hideous desolations which the Devil brings upon them, with whom he has with a _bodily Possession_ made a Seisure. You may both in Sacred and Profane History, read many a direful Account of the _woes_, which they that are possessed by the Devil, do undergo: And from thence conclude, _What must the Children of Men hope from such a Devil!_ Moreover, the _Tyrannical Ceremonies_, whereto the Devil uses to subjugate such _Woful_ Nations or Orders of Men, as are more Entirely under his Dominion, do declare what _woful_ Work the Devil would make where he comes. The very Devotions of those forlorn _Pagans_, to whom the Devil is a Leader, are most bloody _Penances_; and what _Woes_ indeed must we expect from such a Devil of a _Moloch_, as relishes no Sacrifices like those of Humane Heart-blood, and unto whom there is no Musick like the bitter, dying, doleful Groans, ejaculated by the Roasting Children of Men. Furthermore, the servile, abject, needy circumstances wherein the Devil keeps the Slaves, that are under his more sensible Vassalage, do suggest unto us, how _woful_ the Devil would render all our Lives. We that live in a Province, which affords unto us all that may be necessary or comfortable for us, found the Province fill'd with vast Herds of Salvages, that never saw so much as a _Knife_, or a _Nail_, or a _Board_, or a Grain of _Salt_, in all their Days. No better would the Devil have the World provided for. Nor should we, or any else, have one convenient thing about us, but be as indigent as _usually_ our most _Ragged Witches_ are; if _the Devil's Malice_ were not over-ruled by a _compassionate God_, who _preserves Man and Beast_. Hence 'tis, that _the Devil_, even like a _Dragon_, keeping a Guard upon such _Fruits_ as would _refresh_ a languishing World, has hindred Mankind for many Ages, from hitting those _useful Inventions_, which yet _were so obvious_ and _facil_, that it is every bodies wonder, they were no sooner hit upon. The _bemisted World_, must jog on for thousands of Years, without the knowledg of _the Loadstone_, till a _Neapolitan_ stumbled upon it, about _three hundred years_ ago. Nor must the World be _blest_ with such a _matchless Engine_ of _Learning_ and _Vertue_, as that of _Printing_, till about _the middle of the Fifteenth Century_. Nor could _One Old Man, all over the Face of the whole Earth_, have the _benefit_ of such a _Little_, tho most _needful_ thing, as a pair of _Spectacles_, till a _Dutch-Man_, a _little while_ ago accommodated us. Indeed, as the Devil does begrutch us all manner of _Good_, so he does annoy us with all manner of _Wo_, as often as he finds himself capable of doing it. But shall we mention some of the _special woes_ with which the Devil does usually infest the World! Briefly then; _Plagues_ are some of those _woes_ with which the Devil troubles us. It is said of the _Israelites_, in _1 Cor. 10.10._ _They were destroyed of the destroyer._ That is, they had the _Plague_ among them. 'Tis the _Destroyer_, or _the Devil_, that scatters _Plagues_ about the World. Pestilential and Contagious Diseases, 'tis the Devil who does oftentimes invade us with them. 'Tis no uneasy thing for the Devil to impregnate the Air about us, with such Malignant _Salts_, as meeting with _the Salt_ of our _Microcosm_, shall immediately cast us into that Fermentation and Putrefaction, which will utterly dissolve all the Vital Tyes within us; Ev'n as an _Aqua-Fortis_, made with a conjunction of _Nitre_ and _Vitriol_, Corrodes what it Seizes upon. And when the Devil has raised those _Arsenical Fumes_, which become _Venemous Quivers_ full of _Terrible Arrows_, how easily can he shoot the deleterious _Miasms_ into those Juices or Bowels of Mens Bodies, which will soon Enflame them with a Mortal Fire! Hence come such _Plagues_, as that _Beesom of Destruction_, which within our memory swept away such a Throng of People from one _English_ City in one Visitation; And hence those Infectious Fevers, which are but so many _Disguised Plagues_ among us, causing Epidemical Desolations. Again, _Wars_ are also some of those _Woes_, with which the Devil causes our Trouble. It is said in _Rev. 12.17._ _The Dragon was Wrath, and he went to make War;_ and there is in truth scarce any _War_, but what is of the _Dragon's_ kindling. The Devil is that _Vulcan_, out of whose Forge come the instruments of our _Wars_, and it is he that finds us Employments for those Instruments. We read concerning _Dæmoniacks_, or People in whom the Devil was, that they would cut and wound themselves; and so, when the Devil is in Men, he puts 'em upon dealing in that barbarous fashion with one another. _Wars_ do often furnish him with some Thousands of Souls in one Morning from one Acre of Ground; and for the sake of such _Thyestæan_ Banquets, he will push us upon as many _Wars_ as he can. Once more, why may not _Storms_ be reckoned among those _Woes_, with which the Devil does disturb us? It is not improbable that _Natural Storms_ on the World are often of the Devils raising. We are told in _Job 1.11, 12, 19._ that the Devil made a _Storm_, which hurricano'd the House of _Job_, upon the Heads of them that were Feasting in it. _Paracelsus_ could have informed the Devil, if he had not been informed, as besure he was before, That if much _Aluminious_ matter, with _Salt Petre_ not throughly prepared, be mixed, they will send up a cloud of Smoke, which _will_ come down in Rain. But undoubtedly the _Devil_ understands as _well_ the way to make a _Tempest_ as to turn the _Winds_ at the _Solicitation_ of a _Laplander_; whence perhaps it is, that Thunders are observed oftner to break upon _Churches_ than upon any other _Buildings_; and besides many a Man, yea many a Ship, yea, many a Town has miscarried, when the Devil has been permitted from above to make an horrible Tempest. However that the Devil has raised many _Metaphorical Storms_ upon the Church, is a thing, than which there is nothing more notorious. It was said unto Believers in _Rev. 2.10._ _The Devil shall cast some of you into Prison._ The Devil was he that at first set _Cain upon Abel_ to butcher him, as the Apostle seems to suggest, for his Faith in God, as a _Rewarder_. And in how many _Persecutions_, as well as _Heresies_ has the Devil been ever since Engaging all the Children of _Cain_! That Serpent the Devil has acted his cursed Seed in unwearied endeavours to have them, _Of whom the World is not worthy_, treated as those who are _not worthy to live in the World_. By the impulse of the Devil, 'tis that first the old _Heathens_, and then the mad _Arians_ were _pricking Briars_ to the true Servants of God; and that the _Papists_ that came after them, have out done them all for Slaughters, upon those that have been _accounted as the Sheep for the Slaughters_. The late _French_ Persecution is perhaps the horriblest that ever was in the World: And as the Devil of _Mascon_ seems before to have meant it in his out-cries upon _the Miseries preparing for the poor Hugonots_! Thus it has been all acted by a singular Fury of the old Dragon inspiring of his Emissaries. But in reality, _Spiritual Woes_ are the _principal Woes_ among all those that the Devil would have us undone withal. _Sins_ are the worst of _Woes_, and the Devil seeks nothing so much as to plunge us into Sins. When men do commit a Crime for which they are to be Indicted, they are usually _mov'd by the Instigation of the Devil_. The Devil will put _ill men upon being worse_. Was it not he that said in _1 King. 22.22._ _I will go forth, and be a lying Spirit in the Mouth of all the Prophets?_ Even so the Devil becomes an _Unclean Spirit_, _a Drinking Spirit_, _a Swearing Spirit_, _a Worldly Spirit_, _a Passionate Spirit_, _a Revengeful Spirit_, and the like in the Hearts of those that are already too much of such a Spirit; and thus they become improv'd in Sinfulness. Yea, the Devil will put _good men upon doing ill_. Thus we read in _1 Chron. 21.1._ _Satan provoked David to number Israel._ And so the _Devil provokes_ men that are Eminent in Holiness unto such things as may become eminently Pernicious; he _provokes_ them especially unto _Pride_, and unto many unsuitable Emulations. There are likewise most lamentable Impressions which the _Devil_ makes upon the _Souls of Men_ by way of punishment upon them for their _Sins_. 'Tis thus when an Offended God puts the Souls of Men over into the Hands of that Officer _who has the power of Death, that is, the Devil_. It is the woful Misery of Unbelievers in _2 Cor. 4.4._ _The god of this World has blinded their minds._ And thus it may be said of those woful Wretches whom the _Devil_ is a God unto, _the Devil so muffles them that they cannot see the things of their peace._ And _the Devil so hardens them, that nothing will awaken their cares about their Souls:_ How come so many to be _Seared_ in their Sins? 'Tis the Devil that with a red hot Iron fetcht from his Hell does _cauterise_ them. Thus 'tis, till perhaps at last they come to have a _Wounded Conscience_ in them, and the Devil has often a share in their Torturing and confounding Anguishes. The _Devil_ who Terrified _Cain_, and _Saul_, and _Judas_ into Desperation, still becomes a _King of Terrors_ to many Sinners, and frights them from laying hold on the Mercy of God in the Lord Jesus Christ. In these regards, _Wo to us, when the Devil comes down upon us._ _Proposition V._ Toward the _End_ of his _Time_ the _Descent_ of the Devil in _Wrath_ upon the World will produce more _woful Effects_, than what have been _in former Ages_. The dying Dragon, will bite more cruelly and sting more bloodily than ever he did before: The Death-pangs of the Devil will make him to be more of a _Devil_ than ever he was; and the Furnace of this _Nebuchadnezzar_ will be heated _seven times_ hotter, just before its putting out. We are in the first place to apprehend that there is a time fixed and stated by God for the Devil to enjoy a dominion over our sinful and therefore woful World. The _Devil_ once exclaimed in _Mat. 8.29._ _Jesus, thou Son of God, art thou come hither to Torment us before our Time?_ It is plain, that until the second coming of our Lord the _Devil_ must have a time of plagueing the World, which he was afraid would have Expired at his first. The _Devil_ is _by the wrath of God the Prince of this World_; and the time of his Reign is to continue until the time when our Lord himself shall _take to himself his great Power and Reign_. Then 'tis that the _Devil_ shall hear the Son of God swearing with loud Thunders against him, _Thy time shall now be no more!_ Then shall the _Devil_ with his Angels receive their doom, which will be, _depart into the everlasting Fire prepared for you._ We are also to apprehend, that in the _mean time_, the Devil can give a shrewd guess, when he draws near to the _End of his Time_. When he saw Christianity enthron'd among the _Romans_, it is here said, in our _Rev. 12.12._ _He knows he hath but a short time._ And how does he _know_ it? Why _Reason_ will make the Devil to _know_ that God won't suffer him to have _the Everlasting Dominion_; and that when God has once begun to rescue the World out of his hands, he'll go through with it, until _the Captives of the mighty shall be taken away and the prey of the terrible shall be delivered._ But the Devil will have _Scripture_ also, to make him _know_, that when his Antichristian _Vicar_, the _seven-headed Beast_ on the _seven-hilled_ City, shall have spent his determined years, he with his _Vicar_ must unavoidably go down into the _bottomless Pit_. It is not improbable, that the Devil often hears the _Scripture_ expounded in our Congregations; yea that we never assemble without a _Satan_ among us. As there are some Divines, who do with more uncertainty conjecture, from a certain place in the Epistle to the _Ephesians_, That the Angels do sometimes come into our Churches, to gain some advantage from our Ministry. But be sure our _Demonstrable Interpretations_ may give Repeated Notices to the Devil, _That his time is almost out;_ and what the Preacher says unto the _Young Man_, _Know thou, that God will bring thee into Judgment!_ THAT may our Sermons tell unto the _Old Wretch_, _Know thou, that thy Judgment is at hand._ But we must now, likewise, apprehend, that in _such a time_, the _woes_ of the World will be heightened, beyond what they were at _any time_ yet from the foundation of the World. Hence 'tis, that the Apostle has forewarned us, in _2 Tim. 3.1._ _this know, that in the last days, perillous times shall come._ Truly, when the Devil _knows_, that he is got into his _Last days_, he will make _perillous times_ for us; the times will grow more full of _Devils_, and therefore more full of _Perils_, than ever they were before. Of this, if we would _know_, what cause is to be assigned; It is not only, because the Devil grows more _able_, and more _eager_ to vex the World; but also, and chiefly, because the World is more _worthy_ to be vexed by the Devil, than ever heretofore. The _Sins_ of men in this Generation, will be more _mighty Sins_, than those of the former Ages; men will be more Accurate and Exquisite and Refined in the arts of _Sinning_, than they use to be. And besides, their own sins, the sins of all the former Ages will also lie upon the sinners of this generation. Do we ask why the _mischievous powers of darkness_ are to prevail more in our days, than they did in those that are past and gone! 'Tis because that men by sinning over again the sins of the former days, have a _Fellowship with all those unfruitful works of darkness_. As 'twas said in _Matth. 23.36._ _All these things shall come upon this generation;_ so, the men of the last Generation, will find themselves involved in the gulf of all that went before them. Of Sinners 'tis said, _They heap up wrath;_ and the sinners of the Last Generations do not only add unto the _heap_ of sin that has been pileing up ever since the Fall of man, but they Interest themselves in every sin of that enormous heap. There has been a _Cry_ of all former ages going up to God, _That the Devil may come down!_ and the sinners of the Last Generations, do sharpen and louden that _cry_, till the thing do come to pass, as Destructively as Irremediably. From whence it follows, that the Thrice Holy God, with his Holy Angels, will now after a sort more _abandon_ the World, than in the former ages. The roaring Impieties of _the old World_, at last gave mankind such a distast in the Heart of the Just God, that he came to say, _It Repents me that I have made such a Creature!_ And however, it may be but a witty Fancy, in a late Learned Writer, that the _Earth_ before the Flood was nearer to the Sun, than it is at this Day; and that Gods Hurling down the _Earth_ to a further distance from the _Sun_, were the cause of that Flood; yet we may fitly enough say, that men perished by a _Rejection_ from the God of Heaven. Thus the enhanc'd Impieties of this _our World_, will Exasperate the Displeasure of God, at such a rate, as that he will more _cast us off_, than heretofore; until at last, he do with a more than ordinary Indignation say, _Go Devils; do you take them, and make them beyond all former measures miserable!_ If Lastly, We are inquisitive after Instances of those aggravated _woes_, with which the Devil will towards the _End_ of his _Time_ assault us; let it be remembred, That all the Extremities which were foretold by the _Trumpets_ and _Vials_ in the Apocalyptick Schemes of these things, to come upon the World, were the _woes_ to come from the _wrath_ of the Devil, upon the _shortning_ of his _Time_. The horrendous desolations that have come upon mankind, by the Irruptions of the old _Barbarians_ upon the _Roman_ World, and then of the _Saracens_, and since, of the _Turks_, were such _woes_ as men had never seen before. The Infandous _Blindness_ and _Vileness_ which then came upon mankind, and the Monstrous _Croisadoes_ which thereupon carried the _Roman_ World by Millions together unto the Shambles; were also such _woes_ as had never yet had a Parallel. And yet these were some of the things here intended, when it was said, _Wo! For the Devil is come down in great Wrath, having but a short time._ But besides all these things, and besides the increase of _Plagues_ and _Wars_, and _Storms_, and _Internal Maladies_ now in our days, there are especially two most extraordinary _Woes_, one would fear, will in these days become very ordinary. One _Woe_ that may be look'd for is, A frequent Repetition of _Earthquakes_, and this perhaps by the energy of the Devil in the _Earth_. The Devil will be clap't up, as a Prisoner in or near the Bowels of the earth, when once that _Conflagration_ shall be dispatched, which will make, _The New Earth wherein shall dwell Righteousness;_ and that _Conflagration_ will doubtless be much promoted, by the Subterraneous _Fires_, which are a cause of the _Earthquakes_ in our Dayes. Accordingly, we read, _Great Earthquakes in divers places_, enumerated among the Tokens of the _Time_ approaching, when the Devil shall have no longer _Time_. I suspect, That we shall now be visited with more Usual and yet more Fatal _Earthquakes_, than were our Ancestors; in asmuch as the _Fires_ that are shortly to _Burn unto the Lowest Hell, and set on Fire the Foundations of the Mountains_, will now get more Head than they use to do; and it is not impossible, that the Devil, who is ere long to be punished in those _Fires_, may aforehand augment his Desert of it, by having an hand in using some of those _Fires_, for our Detriment. Learned Men have made no scruple to charge the Devil with it; _Deo permittente, Terræ motus causat._ The Devil surely, was a party in the _Earthquake_, whereby the Vengeance of God, in one black Night sunk Twelve considerable Cities of _Asia_, in the Reign of _Tiberious_. But there will be more such _Catastrophes_ in our Dayes; _Italy_ has lately been _Shaking_, till its _Earthquakes_ have brought Ruines at once upon more than thirty Towns; but it will within a little while, _shake_ again, and _shake_ till the Fire of God have made an Entire _Etna_ of it. And behold, This very Morning, when I was intending to utter among you such Things as these, we are cast into an _Heartquake_ by Tidings of an _Earthquake_ that has lately happened at _Jamaica_: an horrible _Earthquake_, whereby the _Tyrus_ of the English _America_, was at once pull'd into the Jaws of the Gaping and Groaning Earth, and many Hundreds of the Inhabitants buried alive. The Lord sanctifie so dismal a Dispensation of his Providence, unto all the _American_ Plantations! But be assured, my Neighbours, the _Earthquakes_ are not over yet! We have not yet seen _the last_. And then, Another _Wo_ that may be Look'd for is, The Devils being now let Loose in _preternatural Operations_ more than formerly; and perhaps in _Possessions_ and _Obsessions_ that shall be very marvellous. You are not Ignorant, That just before our Lords _First Coming_, there were most observable Outrages committed by the Devil upon the Children of Men: And I am suspicious, That there will again be an unusual Range of the Devil among us, a little before the _Second Coming_ of our Lord, which will be, to give the last stroke, in _Destroying the works of the Devil_. The _Evening Wolves_ will be much abroad, when we are near the _Evening_ of the World. The Devil is going to be Dislodged of the _Air_, where his present Quarters are; God will with flashes of hot _Lightning_ upon him, cause him to _fall as Lightning_ from his Ancient Habitations: And the _Raised Saints_ will there have a _New Heaven_, which We _expect according to the Promise of God_. Now a little before this thing, you be like to see the Devil more _sensible_ and _visibly_ Busy upon _Earth_ perhaps, than ever he was before. You shall oftner hear about _Apparitions_ of the Devil, and about poor people strangely Bewitched, _Possessed_ and _Obsessed_, by Infernal Fiends. When our Lord is going to set up His Kingdom, in the most _sensible_ and _visible_ manner, that ever was, and in a manner answering _the Transfiguration_ in _the Mount_, it is a Thousand to One, but _the Devil_ will in sundry _parts of the world_, assay _the like_ for Himself, with a most Apish Imitation: and Men, at least in _some_ Corners of the World, and perhaps in _such_ as God may have some special Designs upon, will to their Cost, be more Familiarized _with the World of Spirits_, than they had been formerly. So that, in fine, if just before _the End_, when _the times of the Jews_ were to be finished, a man then ran about every where, crying, _Wo to the Nation! Wo to the City! Wo to the Temple! Wo! Wo! Wo!_ Much more may the descent of the Devil, just before his _End_, when also _the times of the Gentiles_ will be finished, cause us to cry out, _Wo! Wo! Wo! because of the black things that threaten us!_ But it is now Time to make our Improvement of what has been said. And, first, we shall entertain our selves with a few _Corollaries_, deduced from what has been thus asserted. _Corollary I._ What cause have we to bless God, for our preservation from the _Devils wrath_, in this which may too reasonably be called the _Devils World_! While we are in _this present evil world_, We are continually surrounded with swarms of those Devils, who make this _present world_, become so _evil_. What a wonder of Mercy is it, that no _Devil_ could ever yet make a prey of us! We can set our foot no where but we shall tread in the midst of most Hellish _Rattle-Snakes_; and one of those _Rattle-Snakes_ once thro' the mouth of a Man, on whom he had Seized, hissed out such a Truth as this, _If God would let me loose upon you, I should find enough in the Best of you all, to make you all mine._ What shall I say? The _Wilderness_ thro' which we are passing to the _Promised Land_, is all over fill'd with _Fiery flying serpents_. But, blessed be God; None of them have hitherto so fastned upon us, as to confound us utterly! All our way to Heaven, lies by the _Dens of Lions_, and the _Mounts of Leopards_; there are incredible Droves of Devils in our way. But have we safely got on our way thus far? O let us be thankful to our Eternal preserver for it. It is said in _Psal. 76.10._ _Surely the wrath of Man shall praise thee, and the Remainder of wrath shalt thou restrain;_ But _surely_ it becomes us to praise God, in that we have yet sustain'd no more Damage by the _wrath of the Devil_, and in that he has restrain'd that Overwhelming _wrath_. We are poor, Travellers in a World, which is as well the Devils _Field_, as the Devils _Gaol_; a World in every Nook whereof, the Devil is encamped, with _Bands of Robbers_, to pester all that have their _Face looking Zion-ward_: And are we all this while preserved from the undoing Snares of the _Devil_? it is, _Thou, O keeper of Israel, that hast hitherto been our Keeper!_ And therefore, _Bless the Lord, O my soul, Bless his Holy Name, who has redeemed thy Life from the Destroyer!_ _Corollary II._ We may see the rise of those multiply'd, magnify'd, and Singularly-stinged Afflictions, with which _aged_, or _dying_ Saints frequently have their _Death_ Prefaced, and their _Age_ embittered. When the Saints of God are going to leave the World, it is usually a more _Stormy World_ with them, than ever it was; and they find more _Vanity_, and more _Vexation_ in the world than ever they did before. It is true, _That many are the afflictions of the Righteous;_ but a little before they bid adieu to all those many _Afflictions_, they often have greater, harder, Sorer, Loads thereof laid upon them, than they had yet endured. It is true, _That thro' much Tribulation we must enter in the Kingdom of God;_ but a little before our _Entrance_ thereinto, our _Tribulation_ may have some sharper accents of Sorrow, than ever were yet upon it. And what is the cause of this? It is indeed the _Faithfulness of our God unto us_, that we should find the _Earth_ more full of _Thorns_ and _Briars_ than ever, just before he fetches us from _Earth_ to _Heaven_; that so we may go away the more willingly, the more easily, and with less Convulsion, at his calling for us. O there are _ugly Ties_, by which we are fastned unto this world; but God will by _Thorns and Briars_ tear those _Ties_ asunder. But, _is not the Hand of Joab here?_ Sure, There is the _wrath_ of the _Devil_ also in it. A little before we step into Heaven, the _Devil_ thinks with himself, _My time to abuse that Saint is now but short; what Mischief I am to do that Saint, must be done quickly, if at all; he'l shortly be out of my Reach for ever._ And for this cause he will now fly upon us with the Fiercest Efforts and Furies of his _Wrath_. It was allowed unto the _Serpent_, in _Gen. 2.15._ _To Bruise the Heel_. Why, at the _Heel_, or at the _Close_, of our Lives, the _Serpent_ will be nibbling, more than ever in our Lives before: and it is, _Because now he has but a short time._ He knows, That we shall very shortly be, _Where the wicked cease from Troubling, and where the Weary are at Rest;_ wherefore that _Wicked_ one will now _Trouble_ us, more than ever he did, and we shall have so much _Disrest_, as will make us more _weary_ than ever we were, of things here below. _Corollary III._ What a Reasonable Thing then is it, that they whose _Time_ is but _short_, should make as great _Use_ of their _Time_, as ever they can! pray, let us learn some _good_, even from the _wicked One_ himself. It has been advised, _Be wise as Serpents:_ why, there is a piece of _Wisdom_, whereto that old _Serpent_, the Devil himself, may be our Moniter. When the Devil perceives his _Time_ is but _short_, it puts him upon _Great Wrath_. But how should it be with _us_, when we perceive that our _Time_ is but _short_? why, it should put us upon _Great Work_. The motive which makes the Devil to be more full of _wrath_; should make us more full of _warmth_, more full of _watch_, and more full of _All Diligence to make our Vocation, and Election sure_. Our _Pace_ in our Journey _Heaven-ward_, must be Quickened, if our _space_ for that Journey be shortned, even as _Israel_ went further the _two last_ years of their Journey _Canaan-ward_, than they did in 38 years before. The Apostle brings this, as a _spur_ to the Devotions of Christians, in _1 Cor. 7.29._ _This I say, Brethren, the time is short._ Even so, I _say_ this; some things I lay before you, which I do only _think_, or _guess_, but here is a thing which I venture to _say_ with all the freedom imaginable. You have now a _Time_ to _Get_ good, even a _Time_ to make sure of _Grace and Glory, and every good thing_, by true Repentance: But, _This I say, the time is but short._ You have now _Time_ to _Do_ good, even to _serve out your generation_, as by the _Will_, so for the _Praise_ of God; but, _This I say, the time is but short._ And what I say thus to _All_ People, I say to _Old_ People, with a peculiar Vehemency: Sirs, It cannot be long before your _Time_ is out; there are but a few sands left in the glass of your _Time_: And it is of all things the saddest, for a man to say, _My Time is done, but my work undone!_ O then, _To work_ as fast as you can; and of Soul-work, and Church-work, dispatch as much as ever you can. Say to all _Hindrances_, as the gracious _Jeremiah Burrows_ would sometimes to _Visitants_: _You'll excuse me if I ask you to be short with me, for my work is great, and my time is but short._ Methinks every _time_ we hear a Clock, or see a Watch, we have an admonition given us, that our _Time_ is upon the _wing_, and it will all be gone within a little while. I remember I have read of a famous man, who having a _Clock-watch_ long lying by him, out of Kilture in his Trunk, it unaccountably struck Eleven just before he died. Why, there are many of you, for whom I am to do that office this day: I am to tell you _You are come to your +Eleventh+ hour;_ there is no more than a _twelfth part_ at most, of your life yet behind. But if we neglect our business, till our _short Time_ shall be reduced into _none_, then, _woe to us, for the great wrath of God will send us down from whence there is no Redemption._ _Corollary IV._ How welcome should a _Death in the Lord_ be unto them that belong not unto the Devil, but unto the Lord! While we are sojourning in this World, we are in what may upon too many accounts be called _The Devils Country_: We are where the Devil may come upon us in _great wrath_ continually. The day when God shall take us out of this World, will be, _The day when the Lord will deliver us from the hand of all our Enemies, and from the hand of Satan_. In such a day, why should not our song be that of the Psalmist, _Blessed be my Rock, and let the God of my Salvation be exalted!_ While we are here, we are in _the valley of the shadow of death_; and what is it that makes it so? 'Tis because the _wild Beasts of Hell_ are lurking on every side of us, and every minute ready to salley forth upon us. But our _Death_ will fetch us out of that _Valley_, and carry us where we shall be _for ever with the Lord_. We are now under the daily _Buffetings_ of the Devil, and he does molest us with such _Fiery Darts_, as cause us even to cry out, _I am weary of my Life._ Yea, but are we as _willing to die_, as, _weary of Life_? Our Death will then soon set us where we cannot be reach'd by the _Fist of Wickedness_; and where the _Perfect cannot be shotten at_. It is said in _Rev. 14.13._ _Blessed are the Dead which die in the Lord, they rest from their labours._ But we may say, _Blessed are the Dead in the Lord, inasmuch as they rest from the Devils!_ Our _dying_ will be but our _taking wing_: When attended with a Convoy of winged Angels, we shall be convey'd into that Heaven, from whence the Devil having been thrown he shall never more come thither after us. What if God should now say to us, as to _Moses_, _Go up and die!_ As long as we _go up_, when we _die_, let us receive the Message with a joyful Soul; we shall soon be there, where the Devil can't _come down_ upon us. If the _God of our Life_ should now send that Order to us, which he gave to _Hezekiah_, _Set thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live;_ we need not be cast into such deadly Agonies thereupon, as _Hezekiah_ was: We are but going to that _House_, the Golden Doors whereof, cannot be entred by the Devil that here did use to persecute us. Methinks I see the Departed _Spirit_ of a Believer, triumphantly carried thro' the Devils _Territories_, in such a stately and Fiery Chariot, as the _Spiritualizing Body of Elias_ had; methink I see the Devil, with whole Flocks of _Harpies_, grinning at this Child of God, but unable to fasten any of their griping Talons upon him: And then, upon the utmost edge of our _Atmosphære_, methinks I overhear the holy Soul, with a most heavenly Gallantry, deriding the defeated Fiend, and saying, _Ah! Satan! Return to thy Dungeons again; I am going where thou canst not come for ever!_ O 'tis a brave thing so to die! and especially so to die, _in our time_. For, tho' when we call to mind, _That the Devils time is now but short_, it may almost make us wish to _live_ unto the _end_ of it; and to say with the Psalmist, _Because the Lord will shortly appear in his Glory, to build up Zion. O my God! Take me not away in the midst of my days._ Yet when we bear in mind, _that the Devils Wrath is now most great_, it would make one willing to be _out of the way_. Inasmuch as now is the time for the doing of those things in the prospect whereof _Balaam_ long ago cry'd out _Who shall live when such things are done!_ We should not be inordinately loth to _die_ at such a time. In a word, the _Times_ are so _bad_, that we may well count it, as _good_ a _time_ to die in, as ever we saw. _Corollary V._ Good News for the _Israel_ of God, and particularly for his _New-English Israel_. If the Devils _Time_ were above a _thousand years ago_, pronounced _short_, what may we suppose it now in _our_ Time? Surely we are not a _thousand years_ distant from those happy _thousand years_ of rest and peace, and [which is better] _Holiness_ reserved for the People of God in the latter days; and if we are not a _thousand years_ yet short of that Golden Age, there is cause to think, that we are not an _hundred_. That the blessed _Thousand years_ are not yet begun, is abundantly clear from this, _We do not see the Devil bound;_ No, the Devil was never more let _loose_ than in our Days; and it is very much that any should imagine otherwise: But the same thing that proves the _Thousand Years_ of prosperity for the Church of God, under the whole Heaven, to be not yet _begun_, does also prove, that it is not very _far off_; and that is the prodigious _wrath_ with which the Devil does in our days Persecute, yea, desolate the World. Let us cast our Eyes almost where we will, and we shall see the _Devils_ domineering at such a rate as may justly fill us with astonishment; it is questionable whether _Iniquity_ ever were so rampant, or whether _Calamity_ were ever so pungent, as in this Lamentable _time_; We may truly say, _'Tis the Hour and the Power of Darkness._ But, tho the _wrath_ be so _great_, the _time_ is but _short_: when we are perplexed with the _wrath_ of the Devil, the _Word_ of our God at the same time unto us, is that in _Rom. 16.20._ _The God of Peace shall bruise Satan under your feet Shortly._ Shortly, didst thou say, dearest Lord! O gladsome word! Amen, _Even so, come Lord! Lord Jesus, come quickly! We shall never be rid of this troublesome Devil, till thou do come to Chain him up!_ But because the people of God, would willingly be told _whereabouts_ we are, with reference to the _wrath and the time_ of the Devil, you shall give me leave humbly to set before you a few _Conjectures_. _The first Conjecture._ The Devils _Eldest Son_ seems to be towards the _End_ of his last _Half-time_; and if it be so, the Devils _Whole-time_, cannot but be very near its _End_. It is a very scandalous thing that any _Protestant_, should be at a loss where to find _the Anti-Christ_. But, we have a sufficient assurance, that the Duration of _Anti-Christ_, is to be but for a _Time_, and for _Times_, and for _Half a time_; that is for _Twelve hundred and Sixty Years_. And indeed, those _Twelve Hundred and Sixty Years_, were the very Spott of _Time_ left for the _Devil_, and meant when 'tis here said, _He has but a short time._ Now, I should have an _easie time_ of it, if I were never put upon an _Harder Task_, than to produce what might render it extreamly probable, that Antichrist entred his last _Half-time_, or the last _Hundred_ and _Fourscore_ years of his Reign, _at_ or soon _after_ the celebrated _Reformation_ which began at the year 1517 in the former century. Indeed, it is very agreeable to see how Antichrist then lost _Half_ of his Empire; and how that _half_ which then became _Reformed_, have been upon many accounts little more than _Half-reformed_. But by this computation, we must needs be within a very few years of such a _Mortification_ to befal the See of _Rome_, as that Antichrist, who has lately been planting (what proves no more lasting than) a _Tabernacle in the Glorious Holy Mountain between the Seas_, must quickly, _Come to his End and none shall help him_. So then, within a very little while, we shall see the Devil stript of the grand, yea, the last, _Vehicle_, wherein he will be capable to abuse our World. The _Fires_, with which, _That Beast_ is to be consumed, will so singe the Wings of the _Devil_ too, that he shall no more set the Affairs of _this_ world on _Fire_. Yea, they shall both go into the same _Fire_, to be _tormented for ever and ever_. _The Second Conjecture._ That which is, perhaps, the greatest Effect of the _Devils Wrath_, seems to be in a manner at an _end_: and this would make one hope that the _Devils time_ cannot be far from its _end_. It is in Persecution, that the _wrath_ of the Devil uses to break forth, with its greatest fury. Now there want not probabilities, that the _last Persecution_ intended for the Church of God, before the Advent of our Lord, has been upon it. When we see the _second Woe passing away_, we have a fair signal given unto us, _That the last slaughter of our Lord's Witnesses is over;_ and then what Quickly follows? The next thing is, _The Kingdoms of this World, are become the Kingdoms of Our Lord, and of His Christ:_ and then _down_ goes the Kingdom of the Devil, so that he cannot any more _come down_ upon us. Now, the Irrecoverable and Irretrievable Humiliations that have lately befallen the _Turkish Power_, are but so many Declarations of the _second Woe passing away_. And the dealings of God with the _European_ parts of the world, at this day, do further strengthen this our expectation. We _do_ see, _at this hour a great Earth-quake all Europe over_: and we _shall_ see, that this _great Earth-quake_, and these great Commotions, will but contribute unto the advancement of our Lords hitherto-depressed Interests. 'Tis also to be remark'd that, a disposition to recognize the _Empire_ of God over the _Conscience_ of man, does now prevail more in the world than formerly; and God from on High more touches the Hearts of Princes and Rulers with an averseness to Persecution. 'Tis particularly the unspeakable happiness of the English Nation, to be under the Influences of that excellent Queen, who could say, _In as much as a man cannot make himself believe what he will, why should we Persecute men for not believing as we do! I wish I could see all good men of one mind; but in the mean time I pray, let them however love one another._ Words worthy to be written in Letters of Gold! and by _us_ the more to be considered, because to one of _Ours_ did that royal Person express Her self so excellently, so obligingly. When the late King _James_ published his Declaration for _Liberty of Conscience_, a worthy Divine in the Church of _England_, then studying the _Revelation_, saw cause upon _Revelational_ Grounds, to declare himself in such words as these, _Whatsoever others may intend or design by this Liberty of Conscience, I cannot believe, that it will ever be recalled in +England+, as long as the World stands._ And you know how miraculously the _Earth-quake_ which then immediately came upon the Kingdom, has established that _Liberty_! But that which exceeds all the tendencies this way, is, the dispensation of God at this Day, towards the blessed _Vaudois_. Those renowned _Waldenses_, which were a sort of _Root_ unto all Protestant Churches, were never dissipated, by all the Persecutions of many Ages, till within these few years, the _French_ King and the Duke of _Savoy_ leagued for their dissipation. But just _Three years and a half after_ the _scattering_ of that holy people, to the surprise of all the World, _Spirit of life from God_ is come into them; and having with a thousand Miracles repossessed themselves of their antient Seats, their hot _Persecutor_ is become their great _Protector_. Whereupon the reflection of the worthy person, that writes the story is, _The Churches of +Piemont+, being the Root of the Protestant Churches, they have been the first established; the Churches of other places, being but the Branches, shall be established in due time, God will deliver them speedily, He has already delivered the Mother, and He will not long leave the Daughter behind: He will finish what he has gloriously begun!_ _The Third Conjecture._ There is a _little room_ for hope, that the _great wrath_ of the Devil, will not prove the present ruine of our poor _New-England_ in particular. I believe, there never was a poor Plantation, more pursued by the _wrath_ of the _Devil_, than our poor _New-England_; and that which makes our condition very much the more deplorable is, that the _wrath_ of the _great God_ Himself, at the same time also presses hard upon us. It was a rousing _alarm_ to the Devil, when a great Company of English _Protestants_ and _Puritans_, came to erect Evangelical Churches, in a corner of the World, where he had reign'd without any controul for many Ages; and it is a vexing _Eye-sore_ to the Devil, that our Lord Christ should be known, and own'd, and preached in this _howling Wilderness_. Wherefor he has left no _Stone unturned_, that so he might undermine his Plantation, and force us out of our Country. First, The Indian _Powawes_, used all their Sorceries to molest the first Planters here; but God said unto them, _Touch them not!_ Then, _Seducing Spirits_ came to _root_ in this Vineyard, but God so rated them off, that they have not prevail'd much farther than the Edges of our Land. After this, we have had a continual _blast_ upon some of our principal Grain, annually diminishing a vast part of our _ordinary Food_. Herewithal, wasting _Sicknesses_, especially Burning and Mortal Agues, have Shot the Arrows of Death in at our Windows. Next, we have had many Adversaries of our own Language, who have been perpetually assaying to deprive us of those _English Liberties_, in the encouragement whereof these Territories have been settled. As if this had not been enough; The _Tawnies_ among whom we came, have watered our Soil with the Blood of many Hundreds of our Inhabitants. Desolating _Fires_ also have many times laid the chief Treasure of the whole Province in Ashes. As for _Losses_ by Sea, _they_ have been multiply'd upon us: and particularly in the present _French War_, the whole English Nation have observ'd that no part of the Nation has proportionably had so many Vessels taken, as our poor _New-England_. Besides all which, now at last the Devils are (if I may so speak) _in Person_ come down upon us with such a _Wrath_, as is justly _much_, and will quickly be _more_, the Astonishment of the World. Alas, I may sigh over _this_ Wilderness, as _Moses_ did over _his_, in _Psal. 90.7, 9._ _We are consumed by thine Anger, and by thy Wrath we are troubled: All our days are passed away in thy Wrath._ And I may add this unto it, _The Wrath of the Devil too has been troubling and spending of us, all our days._ But what will become of this poor _New-England_ after all? Shall we sink, expire, perish, before the _short time_ of the Devil shall be finished? I must confess, That when I consider the lamentable _Unfruitfulness_ of men, among us, under as powerful and perspicuous Dispensations of the Gospel, as are in the World; and when I consider the declining state of the _Power of Godliness_ in our Churches, with the most horrible Indisposition that perhaps ever was, to recover out of this declension; I cannot but _Fear_ lest it comes to this, and lest an _Asiatic_ Removal of Candlesticks come upon us. But upon some other Accounts, I would fain _hope_ otherwise; and I will give _you_ therefore the opportunity to try what Inferences may be drawn from these probable Prognostications. I say, _First_, That surely, _America's_ Fate, must at the long run include _New-Englands_ in it. What was the design of our God, in bringing over so many _Europæans_ hither of later years? Of what use or state will _America_ be, when the _Kingdom of God_ shall come? If it must all be the Devils propriety, while the _saved Nations_ of the other Hæmisphere shall be _Walking in the Light of the New Jerusalem_, Our _New-England_ has then, 'tis likely, done all that it was erected for. But if God have a purpose to make here a seat for any of _those glorious things which are spoken of thee, O thou City of God_; then even thou, _O New-England_, art within a very little while of better days than ever yet have dawn'd upon thee. I say, _Secondly_, That tho' there be very _Threatning_ Symptoms on _America_, yet there are some _hopeful_ ones. I confess, when one thinks upon the crying Barbarities with which the most of those _Europæans_ that have Peopled this New world, became the Masters of it; it looks but _Ominously_. When one also thinks how much the way of living in many parts of _America_, is utterly inconsistent with the very Essentials of _Christianity_; yea, how much Injury and Violence is therein done to _Humanity_ it self; it is enough to damp the Hopes of the most Sanguine Complexion. And the _Frown_ of Heaven which has hitherto been upon Attempts of better Gospellizing the Plantations, considered, will but increase the _Damp_. Nevertheless, on the other side, what shall be said of all the _Promises_, That _our Lord Jesus Christ shall have the uttermost parts of the Earth for his Possession?_ and of all the _Prophecies_, That _All the ends of the Earth shall remember and turn unto the Lord?_ Or does it look _agreeably_, That such a rich quarter of the World, equal in some regards to all the rest, should never be out of the _Devils_ hands, from the first Inhabitation unto the last Dissolution of it? No sure; why may not the _last_ be the _first_? and the _Sun of Righteousness_ come to shine _brightest_, in Climates which it rose _latest_ upon! I say, _Thirdly_, That _as_ it fares with _Old England_, so it will be most likely to fare with _New-England_. For which cause, by the way, there may be more of the Divine Favour in the present Circumstances of our dependence on _England_, than we are well aware of. This is very sure, if matters _go ill_ with our _Mother_, her poor American _Daughter_ here, must feel it; nor could our former Happy Settlement have hindred our sympathy in that Unhappiness. But if matters _go Well_ in the Three Kingdoms; as long as God shall bless the English Nation, with Rulers that shall encourage _Piety_, _Honesty_, _Industry_, in their Subjects, and that shall cast a Benign Aspect upon the Interests of our Glorious Gospel, _Abroad_ as well as at _Home_; so long, _New-England_ will at least keep its head above water: and so much the more, for our comfortable Settlement in such a Form as we are now cast into. Unless there should be any singular, destroying, _Topical Plagues_, whereby an offended God should at last make us _Rise_; But, _Alas, O Lord, what other Hive hast thou provided for us!_ I say, _Fourthly_, That the _Elder England_ will certainly and speedily be Visited with the _ancient loving kindness_ of God. When one sees, how strangely the Curse of our _Joshua_, has fallen upon the Persons and Houses of them that have attempted the Rebuilding of the _Old_ Romish _Jericho_, which has there been so far demolished, they cannot but say, That the _Reformation_ there, shall not only be maintained, but also pursued, proceeded, perfected; and that God will shortly there have a _New Jerusalem_. Or, Let a Man in his thoughts run over but the series of amazing Providences towards the English Nation for the last _Thirty Years_: Let him reflect, how many _Plots_ for the ruine of the Nation, have been strangely discovered? yea, how very unaccountably those very _Persons_, yea, I may also say, and those very _Methods_ which were intended for the tools of that ruine, have become the instruments or occasions of Deliverances? A man cannot but say upon these Reflections, as the Wife of _Manoah_ once prudently expressed her self, _If the Lord were pleased to have Destroyed us, He would not have shew'd us all these things._ Indeed, It is not unlikely, that the Enemies of the English Nation, may yet provoke such a _Shake_ unto it, as may perhaps exceed any that has hitherto been undergone: the Lord prevent the Machinations of his Adversaries! But that _shake_ will usher in the most _glorious Times_ that ever arose upon the English _Horizon_. As for the _French_ Cloud which hangs over _England_, tho' it be like to Rain showers of _Blood_ upon a Nation, where the _Blood_ of the Blessed Jesus has been too much treated as an _Unholy Thing_; yet I believe God will shortly scatter it: and my belief is grounded upon a bottom that will bear it. If that overgrown _French Leviathan_ should accomplish any thing like a Conquest of _England_, what could there be to hinder him from the Universal Empire of the _West_? But the _Visions_ of the Western World, in the _Views_ both of _Daniel_ and of _John_, do assure us, that whatever Monarch, shall while the _Papacy_ continues go to swallow up the _Ten Kings_ which received _their Power_ upon the Fall of the Western Empire, he must miscarry in the Attempt. The _French Phaetons_ Epitaph seems written in that, _Sure Word of Prophecy_. [Since the making of this Conjecture, there are arriv'd unto us, the News of a Victory obtain'd by the _English_ over the _French_, which further confirms our Conjecture; and causes us to sing, _Pharaohs Chariots, and his Hosts, has the Lord cast down into the Sea; Thy right-hand has dashed in pieces the Enemy!_] Now, _In the Salvation of_ England, the Plantations cannot but _Rejoyce_, and _New-England_ also will _be Glad_. But so much for our _Corollaries_, I hasten to the main thing designed for your entertainment. And that is, AN HORTATORY AND NECESSARY ADDRESS, TO A COUNTRY NOW EXTRAORDINARILY ALARUM'D BY THE WRATH OF THE DEVIL. TIS THIS, Let us now make a good and a right use of the prodigious _descent_ which the _Devil_ in _Great Wrath_ is at this day making upon our Land. Upon the Death of a Great Man once, an Orator call'd the Town together, crying out, _Concurrite Cives, Dilapsa sunt vestra Moenia!_ that is, _Come together, Neighbours, your Town-Walls are fallen down!_ But such is the descent of the Devil at this day upon our selves, that I may truly tell you, _The Walls of the whole World are broken down!_ The usual _Walls_ of defence about mankind have such a Gap made in them, that the very _Devils_ are broke in upon us, to seduce the _Souls_, torment the _Bodies_, sully the _Credits_, and consume the _Estates_ of our Neighbours, with Impressions both as _real_ and as _furious_, as if the _Invisible_ World were becoming _Incarnate_, on purpose for the vexing of us. And what use ought now to be made of so tremendous a dispensation? We are engaged in a _Fast_ this day; but shall we try to fetch _Meat out of the Eater_, and make the _Lion_ to afford some _Hony_ for our _Souls_? That the Devil is _come down unto us with great Wrath_, we find, we feel, we now deplore. In many ways, for many years hath the Devil been assaying to Extirpate the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus here. _New-England_ may complain of the Devil, as in _Psal. 129.1, 2._ _Many a time have they afflicted me, from my Youth, may +New-England+ now say; many a time have they afflicted me from my Youth; yet they have not prevailed against me._ But now there is a more than ordinary _affliction_, with which the _Devil_ is Galling of us: and such an one as is indeed Unparallelable. The things confessed by _Witches_, and the things endured by _Others_, laid together, amount unto this account of our _Affliction_. The _Devil_, Exhibiting himself ordinarily as a small _Black man_, has decoy'd a fearful knot of proud, froward, ignorant, envious and malicious creatures, to lift themselves in his horrid Service, by entring their Names in a _Book_ by him tendred unto them. These _Witches_, whereof above a Score have now _Confessed, and shown their Deeds_, and some are now tormented by the Devils, for _Confessing_, have met in Hellish _Randezvouzes_, wherein the Confessors do say, they have had their diabolical Sacraments, imitating the _Baptism_ and the _Supper_ of our Lord. In these hellish meetings, these Monsters have associated themselves to do no less a thing than, _To destroy the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ, in these parts of the World;_ and in order hereunto, First they each of them have their _Spectres_, or Devils, commission'd by them, & representing of them, to be the Engines of their Malice. By these wicked _Spectres_, they seize poor people about the Country, with various & bloudy _Torments_; and of those evidently Preternatural torments there are some have dy'd. They have bewitched some, even so far as to make _Self-destroyers_: and others are in many Towns here and there languishing under their _Evil hands_. The people thus afflicted, are miserably scratched and bitten, so that the Marks are most visible to all the World, but the causes utterly invisible; and the same Invisible Furies do most visibly stick Pins into the bodies of the afflicted, and _scale_ them, and hideously distort, and disjoint all their members, besides a thousand other sorts of Plagues beyond these of any natural diseases which they give unto them. Yea, they sometimes drag the poor people out of their chambers, and carry them over Trees and Hills, for divers miles together. A large part of the persons tortured by these Diabolical _Spectres_, are horribly tempted by them, sometimes with fair promises, and sometimes with hard threatnings, but always with felt miseries, to sign the _Devils Laws_ in a Spectral Book laid before them; which two or three of these poor Sufferers, being by their tiresome sufferings overcome to do, they have immediately been released from all their miseries and they appear'd in _Spectre_ then to Torture those that were before their Fellow-Sufferers. The _Witches_ which by their covenant with the Devil, are become Owners of _Spectres_, are oftentimes by their own _Spectres_ required and compelled to give their consent, for the molestation of some, which they had no mind otherwise to fall upon; and cruel depredations are then made upon the Vicinage. In the Prosecution of these Witchcrafts, among a thousand other unaccountable things, the _Spectres_ have an odd faculty of cloathing the most substantial and corporeal Instruments of Torture, with Invisibility, while the wounds thereby given have been the most palpable things in the World; so that the Sufferers assaulted with Instruments of Iron, wholly unseen to the standers by, though, to their cost, seen by themselves, have, upon snatching, wrested the Instruments out of the _Spectres_ hands, and every one has then immediately not only _beheld_, but _handled_, an Iron Instrument taken by a Devil from a Neighbour. These wicked _Spectres_ have proceeded so far, as to steal several quantities of Mony from divers people, part of which Money, has, before sufficient Spectators, been dropt out of the Air into the Hands of the Sufferers, while the _Spectres_ have been urging them to subscribe their _Covenant with Death_. In such extravagant ways have these Wretches propounded, the _Dragooning_ of as many as they can, in their own Combination, and the _Destroying_ of others, with lingring, spreading, deadly diseases; till our Countrey should at last become too hot for us. Among the Ghastly Instances of the _success_ which those Bloody Witches have had, we have seen even some of their own Children, so dedicated unto the Devil, that in their Infancy, it is found, the _Imps_ have sucked them, and rendred them Venemous to a Prodigy. We have also seen the Devils first batteries upon the Town, where the first Church of our Lord in this Colony was gathered, producing those distractions, which have almost ruin'd the Town. We have seen likewise the _Plague_ reaching afterwards into other Towns far and near, where the Houses of good Men have the Devils filling of them with terrible Vexations! This is the Descent, which, it seems, the Devil has now made upon us. But that which makes this Descent the more formidable, is; The _multitude_ and _quality_ of Persons accused of an interest in this _Witchcraft_, by the Efficacy of the _Spectres_ which take their Name and shape upon them; causing very many good and wise Men to fear, That many _innocent_, yea, and some _vertuous_ persons, are by the Devils in this matter, imposed upon; That the Devils have obtain'd the power, to take on them the likeness of harmless people, and in that likeness to afflict other people, and be so abused by Præstigious _Dæmons_, that upon their look or touch, the afflicted shall be odly affected. Arguments from the _Providence of God_, on the one side, and from our _Charity_ towards _Man_ on the other side, have made this now to become a most agitated Controversie among us. There is an _Agony_ produced in the Minds of Men, lest the Devil should sham us with _Devices_, of perhaps a finer Thred, than was ever yet practised upon the World. The whole business is become hereupon so _Snarled_, and the determination of the Question one way or another, so _dismal_, that our Honourable Judges have a Room for _Jehoshaphat's_ Exclamation, _We know not what to do!_ They have used, as Judges have heretofore done, the _Spectral Evidences_, to introduce their further Enquiries into the _Lives_ of the persons accused; and they have thereupon, by the wonderful Providence of God, been so strengthened with _other evidences_, that some of the _Witch Gang_ have been fairly Executed. But what shall be done, as to those against whom the _evidence_ is chiefly founded in the _dark world_? Here they do solemnly demand our Addresses to the _Father of Lights_, on their behalf. But in the mean time, the Devil improves the _Darkness_ of this Affair, to push us into a _Blind Mans Buffet_, and we are even ready to be _sinfully_, yea, hotly, and madly, mauling one another in the _dark_. The consequence of these things, every _considerate_ Man trembles at; and the more, because the frequent cheats of Passion, and Rumour, do precipitate so many, that I wish I could say, The most were _considerate_. But that which carries on the formidableness of our Trials, unto that which may be called, _A wrath unto the uttermost_, is this: It is not without the _wrath_ of the Almighty _God_ himself, that the _Devil_ is permitted thus to come down upon us in _wrath_. It was said, in _Isa. 9.19._ _Through the wrath of the Lord of Hosts, the Land is darkned._ Our Land is _darkned_ indeed; since the _Powers of Darkness_ are turned in upon us: 'tis a _dark time_, yea a black night indeed, now the _Ty-dogs_ of the Pit are abroad among us: but, _It is through the wrath of the Lord of Hosts!_ Inasmuch as the _Fire-brands_ of _Hell_ it self are used for the scorching of us, with cause enough may we cry out, _What means the heat of this anger?_ Blessed Lord! Are all the other Instruments of thy Vengeance, too good for the chastisement of such transgressors as we are? Must the very _Devils_ be sent out of _Their own place_, to be our Troublers: Must we be lash'd with _Scorpions_, fetch'd from the _Place of Torment_? Must this _Wilderness_ be made a Receptacle for the _Dragons of the Wilderness_? If a _Lapland_ should nourish in it vast numbers, the successors of the old _Biarmi_, who can with looks or words bewitch other people, or sell Winds to Marriners, and have their _Familiar Spirits_ which they bequeath to their Children when they die, and by their Enchanted Kettle-Drums can learn things done a Thousand Leagues off; If a _Swedeland_ should afford a Village, where some scores of Haggs, may not only have their Meetings with _Familiar Spirits_, but also by their Enchantments drag many scores of poor children out of their Bed-chambers, to be spoiled at those Meetings; This, were not altogether a matter of so much wonder! But that _New-England_ should this way be harassed! They are not _Chaldeans_, that _Bitter and Hasty Nation_, but they are, _Bitter and Burning Devils_; They are not _Swarthy Indians_, but they are _Sooty Devils_; that are let loose upon us. Ah, Poor _New-England_! Must the plague of _Old �gypt_ come upon thee? Whereof we read in _Psal. 78.49._ _He cast upon them the fierceness of his Anger, Wrath, and Indignation, and Trouble, by sending Evil Angels among them._ What, O what must next be looked for? Must that which is there next mentioned, be next encountered? _He spared not their soul from death, but gave their life over to the Pestilence._ For my part, when I consider what _Melancthon_ says, in one of his Epistles, _That these Diabolical Spectacles are often Prodigies;_ and when I consider, how often people have been by _Spectres_ called upon, just before their Deaths; I am verily afraid, lest some wasting _Mortality_ be among the things, which this Plague is the _Forerunner_ of. I pray God prevent it! But now, _What shall we do?_ _I._ Let the Devils _coming down_ in _great wrath_ upon us, cause us to _come down_ in _great grief_ before the Lord. We may truly and sadly say, _We are brought very low!_ _Low_ indeed, when the Serpents of the dust, are crawling and coyling about us, and Insulting over us. May we not say, _We are in the very belly of Hell_, when _Hell_ it self is feeding upon us? But how _Low_ is that! O let us then most penitently lay our selves very _Low_ before the God of Heaven, who has thus Abased us. When a Truculent _Nero_, a _Devil_ of a Man, was turned in upon the World, it was said, in _1 Pet. 5.6._ _Humble your selves under the mighty hand of God._ How much more now ought we to _humble our selves_ under that _Mighty Hand_ of that God who indeed has the _Devil_ in a _Chain_, but has horribly lengthened out the _Chain_! When the old people of God heard any _Blasphemies_, tearing of his Ever-Blessed Name to pieces, they were to _Rend their Cloaths_ at what they heard. I am sure that we have cause to _Rend our Hearts_ this Day, when we see what an High Treason has been committed against the most high God, by the Witchcrafts in our Neighbourhood. We may say; and shall we not be _humbled_ when we say it? _We have seen an horrible thing done in our Land!_ O 'tis a most humbling thing, to think, that ever there should be such an abomination among us, as for a crue of humane race, to renounce their _Maker_, and to unite with the _Devil_, for the troubling of mankind, and for People to be, (as is by some confess'd) _Baptized_ by a _Fiend_ using this form upon them, _Thou art mine, and I have a full power over thee!_ afterwards communicating in an Hellish _Bread_ and _Wine_, by that Fiend administred unto them. It was said in _Deut. 18.10, 11, 12._ _There shall not be found among you an Inchanter, or a Witch, or a Charmer, or a Consulter with Familiar Spirits, or a Wizzard, or a Necromancer; For all that do these things are an Abomination to the Lord, and because of these Abominations, the Lord thy God doth drive them out before thee._ That _New-England_ now should have these _Abominations_ in it, yea, that some of no mean _Profession_, should be found guilty of them: Alas, what _Humiliations_ are we all hereby oblig'd unto? O 'tis a _Defiled Land_, wherein we live; Let us be humbled for these _Defiling Abominations_, lest we be driven out of our Land. It's a very _humbling_ thing to think, what reproaches will be cast upon us, for this matter, among _The Daughters of the Philistines_. Indeed, enough might easily be said for the vindication of _this_ Country from the _Singularity_ of this matter, by ripping up, what has been discovered in _others_. _Great Brittain_ alone, and this also in our days of _Greatest Light_, has had that in it, which may divert the Calumnies of an ill-natured World, from centring here. They are words of the Devout Bishop _Hall_, _Satans prevalency in this Age, is most clear in the marvellous Number of Witches, abounding in all places. Now Hundreds are discovered in one Shire; and, if Fame Deceives us not, in a Village of Fourteen Houses in the North, are found so many of this Damned Brood. Yea, and those of both Sexes, who have Professed much Knowledge, Holiness, and Devotion, are drawn into this Damnable Practice._ I suppose the Doctor in the first of those Passages, may refer to what happened in the Year 1645. When so many Vassals of the Devil were Detected, that there were _Thirty_ try'd at one time, whereas about _fourteen_ were Hang'd, and an Hundred more detained in the Prisons of _Suffolk_ and _Essex_. Among other things which many of these Acknowledged, one was, That they were to undergo certain _Punishments_, if they did not such and such _Hurts_, as were appointed them. And, among the rest that were then Executed, there was an Old Parson, called _Lowis_, who confessed, That he had a couple of _Imps_, whereof _one_ was always putting him upon the doing of Mischief; Once particularly, that _Imp_ calling for his Consent so to do, went immediately and Sunk a _Ship_, then under Sail. I pray, let not _New-England_ become of an Unsavoury and a Sulphurous Resentment in the Opinion of the World abroad, for the Doleful things which are now fallen out among us, while there are such _Histories_ of other places abroad in the World. Nevertheless, I am sure that _we_, the People of _New-England_, have cause enough to _Humble_ our selves under our most _Humbling_ Circumstances. We must no more be _Haughty, because of the Lords Holy Mountain among us_; No it becomes us rather to be, _Humble, because we have been such an Habitation of Unholy Devils_! _II._ Since the Devil is _come down in great wrath_ upon us, let not us in our _great wrath_ against one another provide a _Lodging_ for him. It was a most wholesome caution, in _Eph. 4.26, 27._ _Let not the Sun go down upon your wrath: Neither give place to the Devil._ The Devil is come down to see what _Quarter_ he shall find among us: And if his coming down, do now fill us with _wrath_ against one another, and if between the cause of the _Sufferers_ on one hand, and the cause of the _Suspected_ on t'other, we carry things to such extreams of _Passion_ as are now gaining upon us, the Devil will Bless himself, to find such a convenient _Lodging_ as we shall therein afford unto him. And it may be that the _wrath_ which we have had against one another has had more than a little influence upon the coming down of the Devil in that _wrath_ which now amazes us. Have not many of us been _Devils_ one unto another for Slanderings, for Backbitings, for Animosities? For _this_, among other causes, perhaps, God has permitted the Devils to be worrying, as they now are, among us. But it is high time to leave off all _Devilism_, when the _Devil_ himself is falling upon us: And it is _no time_ for us to be Censuring and Reviling one another, with a _Devilish wrath_, when the _wrath_ of the _Devil_ is annoying of us. The way for us to out-wit the Devil, in the _Wiles_ with which he now _Vexes_ us, would be for us to joyn as one man in our cries to God, for the Directing, and Issuing of this Thorny Business; but if we do not _Lift up_ our Hands to Heaven, _without Wrath_, we cannot then do it _without Doubt_, of speeding in it. I am ashamed when I read French Authors giving this Character of Englishmen [_Ils se haissent Les uns les autres, & sont en Division Continuelle._] _They hate one another, and are always Quarrelling one with another._ And I shall be much more ashamed, if it become the Character of _New-Englanders_; which is indeed what the Devil would have. _Satan_ would make us _bruise_ one another, by breaking of the _Peace_ among us; but O let us disappoint him. We read of a thing that sometimes happens to the _Devil_, when he is foaming with his _Wrath_, in _Mar. 12.43._ _The unclean Spirit seeks rest, and finds none._ But we give _rest_ unto the Devil, by _wrath_ one against another. If we would lay aside all fierceness, and keenness, in the disputes which the Devil has raised among us; and if we would use to one another none but the _soft Answers, which turn away wrath_: I should hope that we might light upon such Counsels, as would quickly Extricate us out of our _Labyrinths_. But the old _Incendiary_ of the world, is come from Hell, with _Sparks_ of Hell-Fire flashing on every side of him; and we make our selves _Tynder_ to the Sparks. When the Emperour _Henry_ III. kept the Feast of _Pentecost_, at the City _Mentz_, there arose a dissension among some of the people there, which came from words to blows, and at last it passed on to the shedding of Blood. After the Tumult was over, when they came to that clause in their Devotions, _Thou hast made this day Glorious;_ the Devil to the unexpressible Terrour of that vast Assembly, made the Temple Ring with that Outcry _But I have made this Day Quarrelsome!_ We are truly come into a day, which by being well managed might be very _Glorious_, for the exterminating of those _Accursed things_, which have hitherto been the Clogs of our Prosperity; but if we make this day _Quarrelsome_, thro' any _Raging Confidences_, Alas, O Lord, _my Flesh Trembles for Fear of thee, and I am afraid of thy Judgments._ _Erasmus_, among other Historians, tells us, that at a Town in _Germany_, a Witch or Devil, appeared on the Top of a Chimney, Threatning to set the Town on _Fire_: And at length, Scattering a Pot of Ashes abroad, the Town was presently and horribly Burnt unto the Ground. Methinks, I see the _Spectres_, from the Top of the Chimneys to the Northward, threatning to scatter _Fire_, about the Countrey; but let us quench that _Fire_, by the most amicable Correspondencies: Lest, as the _Spectres_, have, they say, already most Literally burnt some of our Dwellings there do come forth a further _Fire_ from the _Brambles_ of Hell, which may more terribly _Devour_ us. Let us not be like a _Troubled House_, altho' we are so much haunted by the _Devils_. Let our _Long suffering_ be a well-placed piece of _Armour_, about us, against the _Fiery Darts_ of the wicked ones. History informs us, That so long ago, as the year, 858, a certain Pestilent and Malignant sort of a _Dæmon_, molested _Caumont_ in _Germany_ with all sorts of methods to stir up strife among the Citizens. He uttered Prophecies, he detected Villanies, he branded people with all kind of Infamies. He incensed the Neighbourhood against one Man particularly, as the cause of all the mischiefs: who yet proved himself innocent. He threw stones at the Inhabitants, and at length burnt their Habitations, till the Commission of the _Dæmon_ could go no further. I say, Let us be well aware lest such _Dæmons_ do _Come hither also_. _III._ Inasmuch as the Devil is come down in _Great Wrath_, we had need Labour, with all the Care and Speed we can to Divert the _Great Wrath_ of Heaven from coming at the same time upon us. The God of Heaven has with long and loud Admonitions, been calling us to _a Reformation of our Provoking Evils_, as the only way to avoid that _Wrath_ of His, which does not only _Threaten_ but _Consume_ us. 'Tis because we have been Deaf to those _Calls_ that we are now by a provoked God, laid open to the _Wrath_ of the Devil himself. It is said in _Pr. 16.17._ _When a mans ways please the Lord, he maketh even his Enemies to be at peace with him._ The Devil is our grand _Enemy_; and tho' we would not be at peace _with_ him, yet we would be at peace from him, that is, we would have him unable to disquiet our _peace_. But inasmuch as the _wrath_ which we endure from this _Enemy_, will allow us no _peace_, we may be sure, _our ways have not pleased the Lord._ It is because we have _broken the hedge_ of Gods _Precepts_, that the hedge of Gods _Providence_ is not so entire as it uses to be about us; but _Serpents_ are _biting_ of us. O let us then set our selves to make our _peace_ with our God, whom we have _displeased_ by our iniquities: and let us not imagine that we can encounter the _Wrath_ of the Devil, while there is the _Wrath_ of God Almighty to set that Mastiff upon us. REFORMATION! REFORMATION! has been the repeated _Cry_ of all the Judgments that have hitherto been upon us; because we have been as _deaf Adders_ thereunto, the _Adders_ of the Infernal Pit are now hissing about us. At length, as it was of old said, _Luke 16.30._ _If one went unto them from the dead, they will repent;_ even so, there are some come unto us from the _Damned_. The great God has loosed the Bars of the Pit, so that many _damned Spirits_ are come in among us, to make us _repent_ of our Misdemeanours. The means which the Lord had formerly employ'd for our _awakening_, were such, that he might well have said, _What could I have done more?_ and yet after all, he has done _more_, in some regards, than was ever done for the awakening of any People in the World. The things now done to awaken our Enquiries after our _provoking Evils_, and our endeavours to Reform those Evils, are most _extraordinary_ things; for which cause I would freely speak it, if we now do not some _extraordinary_ things in returning to God; we are the most _incurable_, and I wish it be not quickly said, the most _miserable_ People under the Sun. Believe me, 'tis a time for all people to do something _extraordinary, in searching and trying of their ways, and in turning to the Lord_. It is at an _extraordinary_ rate of _Circumspection_ and _Spiritual mindedness_, that we should all now maintain a _walk with God_. At such a time as this ought _Magistrates_ to do something _extraordinary_ in promoting of what is laudable, and in restraining and chastising of _Evil Doers_. At such a time as this ought _Ministers_ to do something _extraordinary_ in pulling the Souls of men out of the _Snares_ of the Devil, not only by publick Preaching, but by personal Visits and Counsels, _from house to house_. At such a time as this ought _Churches_ to do something _extraordinary_, in _renewing_ of their Covenants, and in _remembring_, and _reviving_ the Obligations of what they have renewed. Some admirable Designs about the _Reformation_ of Manners, have lately been on foot in the English Nation, in pursuance of the most excellent Admonitions which have been given for it, by the Letters of Their Majesties. Besides the vigorous Agreements of the _Justices_ here and there in the Kingdom, assisted by godly Gentlemen and Informers, to Execute the _Laws_ upon prophane Offenders; there has been started a _Proposal_ for the well-affected people in every Parish, to enter into orderly _Societies_, whereof every Member shall bind himself, not only to _avoid_ Prophaneness in himself, but also according unto to their Place, to do their utmost in first _Reproving_; and, if it must be so, then _Exposing_, and so _Punishing_, as the Law directs, for others that shall be guilty. It has been observed, that the English Nation has had some of its greatest Successes, upon some special and signal _Actions_ this way; and a discouragement given under Legal Proceedings of this kind, must needs be very exercising to the _Wise that observe these things_. But, O why should not _New-England_ be the most forward part of the English Nation in such _Reformations_? Methinks I hear the Lord from Heaven saying over us, _O that my People had hearkened unto me; then I should soon have subdued the Devils, as well as their other Enemies!_ There have been some feeble Essays towards _Reformation_ of late in our _Churches_; but, I pray what comes of them? Do we stay till the _Storm_ of his _Wrath_ be over? Nay, let us be doing what we can, as fast as we can, to divert the _Storm_. The Devils having broke in upon our World, there is great asking, _Who is it that has brought them in?_ And many do by _Spectral_ Exhibitions come to be _cry'd out_ upon. I hope in Gods time it will be found, that among those that are thus _cry'd out_ upon, there are persons yet _Clear from the great Transgression_; but indeed, all the _Unreformed_ among us, may justly be _cry'd out_ upon, as having too much of an hand in letting of the Devils into our Borders; 'tis _our_ Worldliness, _our_ Formality, _our_ Sensuality, and _our_ Iniquity that has help'd this letting of the Devils in. O let us then at last, _consider our ways_. 'Tis a strange passage recorded by Mr. _Clark_ in the Life of his Father, That the People of his Parish, refusing to be Reclaimed from their _Sabbath breaking_, by all the zealous Testimonies which that good Man bore against it; at last, on a night after the people had retired home from a Revelling Prophanation of the _Lords Day_, there was heard a great Noise, with rattling of Chains up and down the Town, and an horrid Scent of Brimstone fill'd the Neighbourhood. Upon which the _guilty Consciences_ of the Wretches told them, the Devil was come to fetch them away; and it so terrifi'd them, that an Eminent _Reformation_ follow'd the Sermons which that Man of God Preached thereupon. Behold, Sinners, behold and _wonder_, lest you _perish_: the very _Devils_ are walking about our Streets, with lengthened _Chains_, making a dreadful Noise in our Ears, and _Brimstone_ even without a Metaphor, is making an hellish and horrid stench in our Nostrils. I pray leave off all those things whereof your _guilty Consciences_ may now accuse you, lest these Devils do yet more direfully fall upon you. _Reformation_ is at this time our only _Preservation_. _IV._ When the Devil is come down in _great Wrath_, let every _great Vice_ which may have a more particular tendency to make us a Prey unto that _Wrath_, come into a due discredit with us. It is the general Concession of all men, who are not become too _Unreasonable_ for common Conversation, that the Invitation of _Witchcrafts_ is the thing that has now introduced the Devil into the midst of us. I say then, let not only all _Witchcrafts_ be duly abominated with us, but also let us be duly watchful against all the _Steps_ leading thereunto. There are lesser _Sorceries_ which they say, are too frequent in our Land. As it was said in _2 King. 17.9._ _The Children of +Israel+ did secretly those things that were not right, against the Lord their God._ So 'tis to be feared, the Children of _New-England_ have _secretly_ done many things that have been pleasing to the Devil. They say, that in some Towns it has been an usual thing for People to cure Hurts with _Spells_, or to use detestable Conjurations, with _Sieves_, _Keys_, and _Pease_, and _Nails_, and _Horse-shoes_, and I know not what other Implements, to learn the things for which they have a forbidden, and an impious _Curiosity_. 'Tis in the Devils Name, that such things are done; and in Gods Name I do this day charge them, as vile Impieties. By these Courses 'tis, that People play upon _The Hole of the Asp_, till that cruelly venemous _Asp_ has pull'd many of them into the deep _Hole_ of _Witchcraft_ it self. It has been acknowledged by some who have sunk the deepest into this _horrible Pit_, that they began at these little _Witchcrafts_; on which 'tis pity but the Laws of the English Nation, whereby the incorrigible repetition of those _Tricks_, is made _Felony_, were severely Executed. From the like sinful _Curiosity_ it is, that the Prognostications of _Judicial Astrology_, are so injudiciously regarded by multitudes among us; and altho' the Jugling _Astrologers_ do scarce ever hit right, except it be in such _Weighty Judgments_, forsooth, as that many _Old Men_ will die such a year, and that there will be many _Losses_ felt by some that venture to Sea, and that there will be much _Lying_ and _Cheating_ in the World; yet their foolish Admirers will not be perswaded but that the Innocent _Stars_ have been concern'd in these Events. It is a disgrace to the English Nation, that the Pamphlets of such idle, futil, trifling _Stargazers_ are so much considered; and the Countenance hereby given to a Study, wherein at last, all is done by _Impulse_, if any thing be done to any purpose at all, is not a little perillous to the Souls of Men. It is (_a Science_, I dare not call it, but) a _Juggle_, whereof the Learned _Hall_ well says, _It is presumptuous and unwarrantable, and cry'd ever down by Councils and Fathers, as unlawful, as that which lies in the mid-way between Magick and Imposture, and partakes not a little of both._ Men consult the Aspects of Planets, whose Northern or Southern motions receive denominations from a _Cælestial Dragon_, till the _Infernal Dragon_ at length insinuate into them, with a _Poison_ of _Witchcraft_ that can't be cured. Has there not also been a world of _discontent_ in our Borders? 'Tis no wonder, that the _fiery Serpents_ are so Stinging of us; We have been a most _Murmuring Generation_. It is not Irrational, to ascribe the late Stupendious growth of _Witches_ among us, partly to the bitter _discontents_, which Affliction and Poverty has fill'd us with: it is inconceivable, what advantage the Devil gains over men, by _discontent_. Moreover, the Sin of _Unbelief_ may be reckoned as perhaps the chief _Crime_ of our Land. We are told, _God swears in wrath, against them that believe not;_ and what follows then but this, _That the Devil comes unto them in wrath?_ Never were the offers of the _Gospel_, more freely tendered, or more basely despised, among any People under the whole Cope of Heaven, than in this _N. E._ Seems it at all marvellous unto us, that the _Devil_ should get such footing in our Country? Why, 'tis because the _Saviour_ has been slighted here, perhaps more than any where. The Blessed Lord Jesus Christ has been profering to us, _Grace, and Glory, and every good thing_, and been alluring of us to Accept of Him, with such Terms as these, _Undone Sinner, I am All; Art thou willing that I should be thy All?_ But, as a proof of that Contempt which this Unbelief has cast upon these proffers, I would seriously ask of the so many Hundreds above a Thousand People within these Walls; which of you all, O how few of you, can indeed say, _Christ is mine, and I am his, and he is the Beloved of my Soul?_ I would only say thus much: When the precious and glorious Jesus, is Entreating of us to Receive _Him_, in all His _Offices_, with all His _Benefits_; the Devil minds what Respect we pay unto that Heavenly Lord; if we _Refuse Him that speaks from Heaven_, then he that, _Comes from Hell_, does with a sort of claim set in, and cry out, _Lord, since this Wretch is not willing that thou shouldst have him, I pray, let me have him._ And thus, by the just vengeance of Heaven, the Devil becomes a _Master_, a _Prince_, a _God_, unto the miserable Unbelievers: but O what are many of them then hurried unto! All of these Evil Things, do I now set before you, as _Branded_ with the Mark of the Devil upon them. _V._ With _Great Regard_, with _Great Pity_, should we Lay to Heart the Condition of those, who are cast into Affliction, by the _Great Wrath_ of the Devil. There is a Number of our Good Neighbours, and some of them very particularly noted for Goodness and Vertue, of whom we may say, _Lord, They are vexed with Devils._ Their Tortures being primarily Inflicted on their _Spirits_, may indeed cause the Impressions thereof upon their Bodies to be the less _Durable_, tho' rather the more _Sensible_: but they Endure Horrible Things, and many have been actually Murdered. Hard _Censures_ now bestow'd upon these poor Sufferers, cannot but be very Displeasing unto our Lord, who, as He said, about some that had been Butchered by a _Pilate_, in _Luc. 13.2, 3._ _Think ye that these were Sinners above others, because they suffered such Things? I tell you No, But except ye Repent, ye shall all likewise Perish:_ Even so, he now says, _Think ye that they who now suffer by the Devil, have been greater Sinners than their Neighbours?_ No, Do you Repent of your _own Sins_, Lest the Devil come to fall foul of _you_, as he has done to _them_. And if this be so, How _Rash_ a thing would it be, if such of the poor Sufferers, as carry it with a Becoming Piety, Seriousness, and Humiliation under their present Suffering, should be unjustly _Censured_; or have their very _Calamity_ imputed unto them as a _Crime_? It is an easie thing, for us to fall into the Fault of, _Adding Affliction to the Afflicted_, and of, _Talking to the Grief of those that are already wounded_. Nor can it be wisdom to slight the Dangers of such a Fault. In the mean time, We have no Bowels in us, if we do not Compassionate the Distressed County of _Essex_, now crying to all these Colonies, _Have pity on me, O ye my Friends, Have pity on me, for the Hand of the Lord has Touched me, and the Wrath of the Devil has been therewithal turned upon me._ But indeed, if an hearty _pity_ be due to any, I am sure, the Difficulties which attend our Honourable _Judges_, do demand no Inconsiderable share in that _Pity_. What a Difficult, what an Arduous Task, have those Worthy Personages now upon their Hands? To carry the _Knife_ so exactly, that on the one side, there may be no Innocent Blood Shed, by too unseeing a _Zeal for the Children of Israel_; and that on the other side, there may be no Shelter given to those Diabolical _Works of Darkness_, without the Removal whereof we never shall have _Peace_; or to those _Furies_ whereof several have kill'd _more people_ perhaps than would serve to make a Village: _Hic Labor, Hoc Opus est!_ O what need have we, to be concerned, that the Sins of our _Israel_, may not provoke the God of Heaven to leave his _Davids_, unto a wrong Step, in a matter of such Consequence, as is now before them! Our Disingenuous, Uncharitable, Unchristian Reproaching of such _Faithful Men_, after all, _The Prayers and Supplications, with strong Crying and Tears_, with which we are daily plying the Throne of Grace, that they may be kept, from what _They Fear_, is none of the way for our preventing of what _We Fear_. Nor all this while, ought our _Pity_ to forget such _Accused_ ones, as call for indeed our most Compassionate _Pity_, till there be fuller Evidences that they are less worthy of it. If _Satan_ have any where maliciously brought upon the _Stage_, those that have hitherto had a just and good stock of Reputation, for their just and good Living, among us; If the _Evil One_ have obtained a permission to _Appear_, in the Figure of such as we have cause to think, have hitherto _Abstained_, even from the _Appearance of Evil_: It is in Truth, such an Invasion upon _Mankind_, as may well Raise an Horror in us all: But, O what Compassions are due to such as may come under such Misrepresentations, of the _Great Accuser_! Who of us can say, what may be shewn in the _Glasses_ of the Great _Lying Spirit_? Altho' the _Usual Providence_ of God [we praise Him!] keeps us from such a Mishap; yet where have we an _Absolute Promise_, that we shall every one always be kept from it? As long as _Charity_ is bound to Think _no Evil_, it will not Hurt us that are _Private Persons_, to forbear the _Judgment_ which belongs not unto us. Let it rather be our Wish, May the Lord help them to Learn the _Lessons_, for which they are now put unto so hard a School. _VI._ With a _Great Zeal_, we should lay hold on the _Covenant_ of God, that we may secure _Us_ and _Ours_, from the _Great Wrath_, with which the Devil Rages. Let us come into the _Covenant of Grace_, and then we shall not be hook'd into a _Covenant with the Devil_, nor be altogether unfurnished with Armour, against the Wretches that are in that _Covenant_. The way to come under the Saving Influences of the _New Covenant_, is, to close with the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the All-sufficient _Mediator_ of it: Let us therefore do, _that_, by Resigning up our selves unto the Saving, Teaching, and Ruling Hands of this Blessed _Mediator_. Then we shall be, what we read in _Jude 1._ _Preserved in Christ Jesus_: That is, as the _Destroying Angel_, could not meddle with such as had been distinguished, by the Blood of the _Passeover_ on their Houses: Thus the Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, Sprinkled on our Souls, will _Preserve_ us from the Devil. The _Birds of prey_ (and indeed the _Devils_ most literally in the shape of great _Birds_!) are flying about. Would we find a Covert from these _Vultures_? Let us then Hear our Lord Jesus from Heaven Clocquing unto us, _O that you would be gathered under my wings!_ Well; When this is done, Then let us own the _Covenant_, which we are now come into, by joining our selves to a Particular _Church_, walking in the Order of the Gospel; at the doing whereof, according to that _Covenant_ of God, We give up Our selves unto the Lord, and in Him unto One Another. While others have had their Names Entred in the _Devils Book_; let our Names be found in the _Church Book_, and let us be _Written among the Living in Jerusalem_. By no means let, _Church work_ sink and fail in the midst of us; but let the Tragical Accidents which now happen, exceedingly Quicken that _work_. So many of the _Rising Generation_, utterly forgetting the Errand of our Fathers to build Churches in this Wilderness, and so many of our _Cottages_ being allow'd to Live, where they do not, and perhaps cannot, wait upon God with the Churches of His People; 'tis as likely as any one thing to procure the swarmings of _Witch crafts_ among us. But it becomes us, with a like Ardour, to bring our poor _Children_ with us, as we shall do, when we come our selves, into the _Covenant_ of God. It would break an heart of Stone, to have seen, what I have lately seen; Even poor Children of several Ages, even from seven to twenty, more or less, _Confessing_ their Familiarity with Devils; but at the same time, in Doleful bitter Lamentations, that made a little Pourtraiture of _Hell_ it self, Expostulating with their execrable Parents, for _Devoting_ them to the Devil in their Infancy, and so _Entailing_ of Devillism upon them! Now, as the Psalmist could say, _My Zeal hath consumed me, because my Enemies have forgotten thy words:_ Even so, let the Nefarious wickedness of those that have Explicitly dedicated their Children to the Devil, even with Devilish Symbols, of such a Dedication, Provoke our _Zeal_ to have our Children, Sincerely, Signally, and openly _Consecrated_ unto God; with an _Education_ afterwards assuring and confirming that Consecration. _VII._ Let our _Prayer_ go up with great Faith, against the Devil, that comes down in great Wrath. Such is the Antipathy of the Devil to our _Prayer_, that he cannot bear to stay long where much of it is: Indeed it is _Diaboli Flagellum_, as well as, _Miseriæ Remedium_; the Devil will soon be Scourg'd out of the Lord's Temple, by a _Whip_, made and used, with the _effectual fervent Prayer of Righteous Men_. When the Devil by Afflicting of us, drives us to our Prayers, he is _The Fool making a Whip for his own Back_. Our Lord said of the Devil in _Matt. 17.21._ _This Kind goes not out, but by Prayer and Fasting._ But, _Prayer and Fasting_ will soon make the Devil be gone. Here are _Charms_ indeed! Sacred and Blessed _Charms_, which the Devil cannot stand before. A Promise of God, being well managed in the _Hands_ of them that are much upon their Knees, will so resist the Devil, that he will _Flee from us_. At every other Weapon the Devils will be too hard for us; the _Spiritual Wickednesses in High Places_, have manifestly the Upper hand of us; that _Old Serpent_ will be too old for us, too cunning, too subtil; they will soon _out wit_ us, if we think to Encounter them with any _Wit_ of our own. But when we come to _Prayers_, Incessant and Vehement _Prayers_ before the Lord, there we shall be too hard for them. When well-directed _Prayers_, that great Artillery of Heaven, are brought into the Field, _There_ methinks I see, _There are these workers of Iniquity fallen, all of them!_ And who can tell, how much the most _Obscure Christian_ among you all, may do towards the Deliverance of our Land from the Molestations which the Devil is now giving to us. I have Read, That on a day of Prayer kept by some good People for and with a Possessed Person, the Devil at last flew out of the Window, and referring to a Devout, plain, mean Woman then in the Room, he cry'd out, _O the Woman behind the Door! 'Tis that Woman that forces me away!_ Thus the Devil that now troubles us, may be forced within a while to forsake us; and it shall be said, _He was driven away by the Prayers of some Obscure and Retired Souls, which the World has taken but little notice of!_ The Great God is about a _Great Work_ at this day among us: Now, there is extream Hazard, lest the Devil by Compulsion must submit to that _Great Work_, may also by _Permission_, come to Confound that _Work_; both in the Detections of some, and in the Confessions of others, whose Ungodly deeds may be brought forth, by a _Great Work_ of God; there is great Hazard lest the Devil intertwist some of his Delusions. 'Tis PRAYER, I say, 'tis PRAYER, that must carry us well through the strange things that are now upon us. Only that Prayer must then be the Prayer of Faith: O where is our Faith in him, Who _hath spoiled these Principalities and Powers, on his Cross, Triumphing over them_! _VIII._ Lastly, Shake off, every Soul, shake off the _hard Yoak_ of the Devil. Where 'tis said, _The whole World lyes in Wickedness;_ 'tis by some of the Ancients rendred, _The whole World lyes in the Devil._ The Devil is a Prince, yea, the Devil is a God unto all the Unregenerate; and alas, there is _A whole World of them_. Desolate Sinners, consider what an horrid Lord it is that you are Enslav'd unto; and Oh shake off your Slavery to such a Lord. Instead of _him_, now make your Choice of the Eternal God in Jesus Christ; Chuse him with a most unalterable Resolution, and unto him say, with _Thomas_, _My Lord, and my God!_ Say with the Church, _Lord, other Lords have had the Dominion over us, but now thou alone shalt be our Lord for ever._ Then instead of your Perishing under the wrath of the Devils, God will fetch you to a place among those that fill up the Room of the Devils, left by their Fall from the Ethereal Regions. It was a most awful Speech made by the Devil, Possessing a young Woman, at a Village in _Germany_, _By the command of God, I am come to Torment the Body of this young Woman, tho I cannot hurt her Soul; and it is that I may warn Men, to take heed of sinning against God._ _Indeed_ (said he) _'tis very sore against my will that I do it; but the command of God forces me to declare what I do; however I know that at the Last Day, I shall have more Souls than God himself._ So spoke that horrible Devil! But O that none of our Souls may be found among the Prizes of the Devil, in the Day of God! O that what the Devil has been forced to declare, of his Kingdom among us, may prejudice our Hearts against him for ever! My Text says, _The Devil is come down in great Wrath, for he has but a short time._ Yea, but if you do not by a speedy and through Conversion to God, escape the Wrath of the Devil, you will your selves go down, where the Devil is to be, and you will there be sweltring under the Devils Wrath, not for a _short Time_, but, _World without end_; not for a _Short Time_, but for _Infinite Millions of Ages_. The smoak of your Torment under that Wrath, will _Ascend for ever and ever_! Indeed, the Devil's time for his Wrath upon you in this World, can be but short, but his time for you to do his Work, or, which is all one, to delay your turning to God, that is a _Long Time_. When the Devil was going to be Dispossessed of a Man, he Roar'd out, _Am I to be Tormented before my time?_ You will _Torment_ the Devil, if you Rescue your Souls out of his hands, by true Repentance: If once you begin to look that way, he'll Cry out, _O this is before my Time, I must have more Time, yet in the Service of such a guilty Soul._ But, I beseech you, let us join thus to torment the Devil, in an holy Revenge upon him, for all the Injuries which he has done unto us; let us tell him, _Satan, thy time with me is but short, Nay, thy time with me shall be no more; I am unutterably sorry that it has been so much; Depart from me thou Evil-Doer, that would'st have me to be an Evil Doer like thy self; I will now for ever keep the Commandments of that God, in whom I Live and Move, and have my Being!_ The Devil has plaid a fine Game for himself indeed, if by his troubling of our Land, the Souls of many People should come to _think upon their ways, till even they turn their Feet into the Testimonies of the Lord_. Now that the Devil may be thus outshot in his own Bow, is the desire of all that love the Salvation of God among us, as well as of him, who has thus Addressed you. _Amen._ * * * * * Having thus discoursed on the _Wonders of the Invisible World_, I shall now, with God's help, go on to relate some Remarkable and Memorable Instances of _Wonders_ which that _World_ has given to ourselves. And altho the chief Entertainment which my Readers do expect, and shall receive, will be a true History of what has occurred, respecting the WITCHCRAFTS wherewith we are at this day Persecuted; yet I shall choose to usher in the mention of those things, with A NARRATIVE OF AN APPARITION WHICH A GENTLEMAN IN BOSTON, HAD OF HIS BROTHER, JUST THEN MURTHERED IN LONDON. It was on the Second of _May_ in the Year 1687, that a most ingenious, accomplished and well-disposed Gentleman, Mr. _Joseph Beacon_, by Name, about Five a Clock in the Morning, as he lay, whether Sleeping or Waking he could not say, (but judged the latter of them) had a View of his Brother then at _London_, altho he was now himself at Our _Boston_, distanced from him a thousand Leagues. This his Brother appear'd unto him, in the Morning about Five a Clock at _Boston_, having on him a _Bengal_ Gown, which he usually wore, with a Napkin tyed about his Head; his Countenance was very Pale, Gastly, Deadly, and he had a bloody Wound on one side of his Fore-head. _Brother!_ says the Affrighted _Joseph_. _Brother!_ Answered the Apparition. Said _Joseph_, _What's the matter Brother? How came you here!_ The Apparition replied, _Brother, I have been most barbarously and injuriously Butchered, by a Debauched Drunken Fellow, to whom I never did any wrong in my Life._ Whereupon he gave a particular Description of the Murderer; adding, _Brother, This Fellow changing his Name, is attempting to come over unto +New-England+, in +Foy+, or +Wild+; I would pray you on the first Arrival of either of these, to get an Order from the Governor, to Seize the Person, whom I have now described; and then do you Indict him for the Murder of me your Brother: I'll stand by you and prove the Indictment._ And so he Vanished. Mr. _Beacon_ was extreamly astonished at what he had seen and hear'd; and the People of the Family not only observed an extraordinary Alteration upon him, for the Week following, but have also given me under their Hands a full Testimony, that he then gave them an Account of this Apparition. All this while, Mr. _Beacon_ had no advice of any thing amiss attending his Brother then in _England_; but about the latter end of _June_ following, he understood by the common ways of Communication, that the _April_ before, his Brother going in haste by Night to call a Coach for a Lady, met a Fellow then in Drink, with his _Doxy_ in his Hand: Some way or other the Fellow thought himself Affronted with the hasty passage of this _Beacon_, and immediately ran into the Fire-side of a Neighbouring Tavern, from whence he fetch'd out a Fire-fork, wherewith he grievously wounded _Beacon_ in the Skull; even in that very part where the Apparition show'd his Wound. Of this Wound he Languished until he Dyed on the Second of _May_, about five of the Clock in the Morning at _London_. The Murderer it seems was endeavouring to Escape, as the Apparition affirm'd, but the Friends of the Deceased _Beacon_, Seized him; and Prosecuting him at Law, he found the help of such Friends as brought him off without the loss of his Life; since which, there has no more been heard of the Business. This History I received of Mr. _Joseph Beacon_ himself; who a little before his own Pious and hopeful Death, which follow'd not long after, gave me the Story written and signed with his own Hand, and attested with the Circumstances I have already mentioned. * * * * * But I shall no longer detain my Reader, from his expected Entertainment, in a brief account of the Tryals which have passed upon some of the Malefactors lately Executed at _Salem_, for the _Witchcrafts_ whereof they stood Convicted. For my own part, I was not present at any of them; nor ever had I any Personal prejudice at the Persons thus brought upon the Stage; much less at the Surviving Relations of those Persons, with and for whom I would be as hearty a Mourner as any Man living in the World: _The Lord Comfort them!_ But having received a Command so to do, I can do no other than shortly relate the chief _Matters of Fact_, which occurr'd in the Tryals of some that were Executed, in an Abridgment Collected out of the _Court-Papers_, on this occasion put into my hands. You are to take the _Truth_, just as it was; and the Truth will hurt no good Man. There might have been more of these, if my Book would not thereby have swollen too big; and if some other worthy hands did not perhaps intend something further in these _Collections_; for which cause I have only singled out Four or Five, which may serve to illustrate the way of Dealing, wherein _Witchcrafts_ use to be concerned; and I report matters not as an _Advocate_, but as an _Historian_. They were some of the Gracious Words inserted in the Advice, which many of the Neighbouring Ministers, did this Summer humbly lay before our Honorable Judges, _We cannot but with all thankfulness, acknowledge the success which the Merciful God has given unto the Sedulous and Assiduous endeavours of Our Honourable Rulers, to detect the abominable Witchcrafts which have been committed in the Country; Humbly Praying, that the discovery of those mysterious and mischievous wickednesses, may be Perfected._ If in the midst of the many Dissatisfactions among us, the Publication of these Tryals, may promote such a Pious Thankfulness unto God, for Justice being so far executed among us, I shall Rejoice that God is Glorified; and pray, that no wrong steps of ours may ever sully any of his Glorious Works. But we will begin with, A MODERN INSTANCE OF WITCHES, DISCOVERED AND CONDEMNED IN A TRYAL, BEFORE THAT CELEBRATED JUDGE, SIR MATTHEW HALE. It may cast some Light upon the Dark things now in _America_, if we just give a glance upon the _like things_ lately happening in _Europe_. We may see the _Witchcrafts_ here most exactly resemble the _Witchcrafts_ there; and we may learn what sort of Devils do trouble the World. The Venerable _Baxter_ very truly says, _Judge +Hale+ was a Person, than whom, no Man was more Backward to Condemn a Witch, without full Evidence._ Now, one of the latest Printed Accounts about a _Tryal of Witches_, is of what was before him, and it ran on this wise. [Printed in the Year 1682.] And it is here the rather mentioned, because it was a Tryal, much considered by the Judges of _New England_. _I._ _Rose Cullender_ and _Amy Duny_, were severally Indicted, for Bewitching _Elizabeth Durent_, _Ann Durent_, _Jane Bocking_, _Susan Chandler_, _William Durent_, _Elizabeth_ and _Deborah Pacy_. And the Evidence whereon they were Convicted, stood upon divers particular Circumstances. _II._ _Ann Durent_, _Susan Chandler_, and _Elizabeth Pacy_, when they came into the Hall, to give Instructions for the drawing the Bills of Indictments, they fell into strange and violent Fits, so that they were unable to give in their Depositions, not only then, but also during the whole Assizes. _William Durent_ being an Infant, his Mother Swore, That _Amy Duny_ looking after her Child one Day in her absence, did at her return confess, that she had _given suck to the Child_: (tho' she were an Old Woman:) Whereat, when _Durent_ expressed her displeasure, _Duny_ went away with Discontents and Menaces. The Night after, the Child fell into strange and sad Fits, wherein it continued for Divers Weeks. One Doctor _Jacob_ advised her to hang up the Childs Blanket, in the Chimney Corner all Day, and at Night, when she went to put the Child into it, if she found any Thing in it then to throw it without fear into the Fire. Accordingly, at Night, there fell a great Toad out of the Blanket, which ran up and down the Hearth. A Boy catch't it, and held it in the Fire with the Tongs: where it made an horrible Noise, and Flash'd like to Gun-Powder, with a report like that of a Pistol: Whereupon the Toad was no more to be seen. The next Day a Kinswoman of _Duny's_, told the Deponent, that her Aunt was all grievously scorch'd with the Fire, and the Deponent going to her House, found her in such a Condition. _Duny_ told her, she might thank her for it; but she should live to see some of her Children Dead, and her self upon Crutches. But after the Burning of the Toad, this Child Recovered. This Deponent further Testifi'd, That Her Daughter _Elizabeth_, being about the Age of Ten Years, was taken in like manner, as her first Child was, and in her Fits complained much of _Amy Duny_, and said, that she did appear to Her, and afflict her in such manner as the former. One Day she found _Amy Duny_ in her House, and thrusting her out of Doors, _Duny_ said, _You need not be so Angry, your Child won't live long._ And within three Days the Child Died. The Deponent added, that she was Her self, not long after taken with such a Lameness, in both her Legs, that she was forced to go upon Crutches; and she was now in Court upon them. [It was Remarkable, that immediately upon the Juries bringing in _Duny_ Guilty, _Durent_ was restored unto the use of her Limbs, and went home without her Crutches.] _III._ As for _Elizabeth_ and _Deborah Pacy_, one Aged Eleven Years, the other Nine; the elder, being in Court, was made utterly senseless, during all the time of the Trial: or at least speechless. By the direction of the Judg, _Duny_ was privately brought to _Elizabeth Pacy_, and she touched her Hand: whereupon the Child, without so much as seeing her, suddenly leap'd up and flew upon the Prisoner; the younger was too ill, to be brought unto the Assizes. But _Samuel Pacy_, their Father, testifi'd, that his Daughter _Deborah_ was taken with a sudden Lameness; and upon the grumbling of _Amy Duny_, for being denied something, where this Child was then sitting, the Child was taken with an extream pain in her stomach, like the pricking of Pins; and shrieking at a dreadful manner, like a Whelp, rather than a Rational Creature. The Physicians could not conjecture the cause of the Distemper; but _Amy Duny_ being a Woman of ill Fame, and the Child in Fits crying out of _Amy Duny_, as affrighting her with the Apparition of her Person, the Deponent suspected her, and procured her to be set in the stocks. While she was there, she said in the hearing of Two Witnesses, _Mr. +Pacy+ keeps a great stir about his Child, but let him stay till he has done as much by his Children, as I have done by mine:_ And being Asked, What she had done to her Children, she Answered, _She had been fain to open her Childs Mouth with a Tap to give it Victuals._ The Deponent added, that within Two Days, the Fits of his Daughters were such, that they could not preserve either Life or Breath, without the help of a Tap. And that the Children Cry'd out of _Amy Duny_, and of _Rose Cullender_, as afflicting them with their Apparitions. _IV._ The Fits of the Children were various. They would sometimes be Lame on one side; sometimes on t'other. Sometimes very sore; sometimes restored unto their Limbs, and then Deaf, or Blind, or Dumb, for a long while together. Upon the Recovery of their Speech, they would Cough extreamly; and with much Flegm, they would bring up Crooked Pins; and one time, a Two-penny Nail, with a very broad Head. Commonly at the end of every Fit, they would cast up a Pin. When the Children Read, they could not pronounce the Name of, _Lord_, or _Jesus_, or _Christ_, but would fall into Fits; and say, Amy Duny _says_, _I must not use that Name._ When they came to the Name of _Satan_, or _Devil_, they would clap their Fingers on the Book, crying out, _This bites, but it makes me speak right well!_ The Children in their Fits would often Cry out, _There stands_ Amy Duny, or _Rose Cullender_; and they would afterwards relate, _That these Witches appearing before them, threatned them, that if they told what they saw or heard, they would Torment them ten times more than ever they did before._ _V._ _Margaret Arnold_, the Sister of Mr. _Pacy_, Testifi'd unto the like Sufferings being upon the Children, at her House, whither her Brother had Removed them. And that sometimes, the Children (_only_) would see things like Mice, run about the House; and one of them suddenly snap'd one with the Tongs, and threw it into the Fire, where it screeched out like a Rat. At another time, a thing like a Bee, flew at the Face of the younger Child; the Child fell into a Fit; and at last Vomited up a _Two-penny Nail_, with a Broad Head; affirming, _That the Bee brought this Nail, and forced it into her Mouth._ The Child would in like manner be assaulted with Flies, which brought Crooked Pins, unto her, and made her first swallow them, and then Vomit them. She one Day caught an Invisible _Mouse_, and throwing it into the Fire, it Flash'd like to Gun-Powder. None besides the Child saw the _Mouse_, but every one saw the _Flash_. She also declared, out of her Fits, that in them, _Amy Duny_ much tempted her to destroy her self. _VI._ As for _Ann Durent_, her Father Testified, That upon a Discontent of _Rose Cullender_, his Daughter was taken with much Illness in her Stomach and great and sore Pains, like the Pricking of Pins: and then Swooning Fits, from which Recovering, she declared, _She had seen the Apparition of +Rose Cullender+, Threatning to Torment her._ She likewise Vomited up diverse Pins. The Maid was Present at Court, but when _Cullender_ look'd upon her, she fell into such Fits, as made her utterly unable to declare any thing. _Ann Baldwin_ deposed the same. _VII._ _Jane Bocking_, was too weak to be at the Assizes. But her Mother Testifi'd, that her Daughter having formerly been Afflicted with Swooning Fits, and Recovered of them; was now taken with a great Pain in her Stomach; and New Swooning Fits. That she took little Food, but every Day Vomited Crooked Pins. In her first Fits, she would Extend her Arms, and use Postures, as if she catched at something, and when her Clutched Hands were forced open, they would find several Pins diversely Crooked, unaccountably lodged there. She would also maintain a Discourse with some that were Invisibly present, when casting abroad her Arms, she would often say, _I will not have it!_ but at last say, _Then I will have it!_ and closing her Hand, which when they presently after opened, a Lath-Nail was found in it. But her great Complaints were of being Visited by the shapes of _Amy Duny_, and _Rose Cullender_. _VIII._ As for _Susan Chandler_, her Mother Testified, That being at the search of _Rose Cullender_, they found on her Belly a thing like a Teat, of an Inch long; which the _said Rose_ ascribed to a strain. But near her Privy-parts, they found Three more, that were smaller than the former. At the end of the long Teat, there was a little Hole, which appeared, as if newly Sucked; and upon straining it, a white Milky matter issued out. The Deponent further said, That her Daughter being one Day concerned at _Rose Cullenders_ taking her by the Hand, she fell very sick, and at Night cry'd out, _That +Rose Cullender+ would come to Bed unto her._ Her Fits grew violent, and in the Intervals of them, she declared, _That she saw +Rose Cullender+ in them, and once having of a great Dog with her._ She also Vomited up Crooked Pins; and when she was brought into Court, she fell into her Fits. She Recovered her self in some Time, and was asked by the Court, whether she was in a Condition to take an Oath, and give Evidence. She said, she could; but having been Sworn, she fell into her Fits again, and, _Burn her! Burn her!_ were all the words that she could obtain power to speak. Her Father likewise gave the same Testimony with her Mother; as to all but the Search. _IX._ Here was the Sum of the Evidence: Which Mr. Serjeant _Keeling_, thought not sufficient to Convict the Prisoners. For admitting the Children were Bewitched, yet, said he, it can never be Apply'd unto the Prisoners, upon the Imagination only of the Parties Afflicted; inasmuch as no person whatsoever could then be in Safety. Dr. _Brown_, a very Learned Person then present, gave his Opinion, that these Persons were Bewitched. He added, That in _Denmark_, there had been lately a great Discovery of Witches; who used the very same way of Afflicting people, by Conveying Pins and Nails into them. His Opinion was, that the Devil in Witchcrafts, did Work upon the Bodies of Men and Women, upon a _Natural Foundation_; and that he did Extraordinarily afflict them, with such Distempers as their Bodies were most subject unto. _X._ The Experiment about the _Usefulness_, yea, or _Lawfulness_ whereof Good Men have sometimes disputed, was divers Times made, That tho' the Afflicted were utterly deprived of all sense in their Fits, yet upon the _Touch_ of the Accused, they would so screech out, and fly up, as not upon any other persons. And yet it was also found that once upon the touch of an innocent person, the like effect follow'd, which put the whole Court unto a stand: altho' a small Reason was at length attempted to be given for it. _XI._ However, to strengthen the Credit of what had been already produced against the Prisoners, One _John Soam_ Testifi'd, That bringing home his Hay in Three Carts, one of the Carts wrenched the Window of _Rose Cullenders_ House, whereupon she flew out, with violent Threatenings against the Deponent. The other Two Carts, passed by Twice, Loaded, that Day afterwards; but the Cart which touched _Cullenders_ House, was Twice or Thrice that Day overturned. Having again Loaded it, as they brought it thro' the Gate which Leads out of the Field, the Cart stuck so fast in the Gates Head, that they could not possibly get it thro', but were forced to cut down the Post of the Gate, to make the Cart pass thro', altho' they could not perceive that the Cart did of either side touch the Gate-Post. They afterwards, did with much Difficulty get it home to the Yard; but could not for their Lives get the Cart near the place, where they should unload. They were fain to unload at a great Distance; and when they were Tired, the Noses of them that came to Assist them, would burst forth a Bleeding; so they were fain to give over till next morning; and then they unloaded without any difficulty. _XII._ _Robert Sherringham_ also Testifi'd, That the Axle-Tree of his Cart, happening in passing, to break some part of _Rose Cullenders_ House, in her Anger at it, she vehemently threatned him, _His Horses should suffer for it._ And within a short time, all his Four Horses dy'd; after which he sustained many other Losses in the sudden Dying of his Cattle. He was also taken with a Lameness in his Limbs; and so vexed with Lice of an extraordinary Number and Bigness, that no Art could hinder the Swarming of them, till he burnt up two Suits of Apparel. _XIII._ As for _Amy Duny_, 'twas Testifi'd by one _Richard Spencer_ that he heard her say, _The Devil would not let her Rest; until she were Revenged on the Wife of +Cornelius Sandswel+._ And that _Sandswel_ testifi'd, that her Poultry dy'd suddenly, upon _Amy Dunys_ threatning of them; and that her Husbands Chimney fell, quickly after _Duny_ had spoken of such a disaster. And a Firkin of Fish could not be kept from falling into the Water, upon suspicious words of _Duny's_. _XIV._ The Judg told the Jury, they were to inquire now, first, whether these Children were Bewitched; and secondly, Whether the Prisoners at the Bar were guilty of it. He made no doubt, there were such Creatures as Witches; for the Scriptures affirmed it; and the Wisdom of all Nations had provided Laws against such persons. He pray'd the God of Heaven to direct their Hearts in the weighty thing they had in hand; for, _To Condemn the Innocent, and let the Guilty go free, were both an Abomination to the Lord._ The Jury in half an hour brought them in _Guilty_ upon their several Indictments, which were Nineteen in Number. The next Morning, the Children with their Parents, came to the Lodgings of the Lord Chief Justice, and were in as good health as ever in their Lives; being Restored within half an Hour after the Witches were Convicted. The Witches were Executed; and _Confessed_ nothing; which indeed will not be wondred by them, who Consider and Entertain the Judgment of a Judicious Writer, _That the Unpardonable Sin, is most usually Committed by Professors of the Christian Religion, falling into Witchcraft._ We will now proceed unto several of the like Tryals among our selves. I. THE TRYAL OF G. B. AT A COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER, HELD IN SALEM, 1692. Glad should I have been, if I had never known the Name of this Man; or never had this occasion to mention so much as the first Letters of his Name. But the Government requiring some Account of his Trial to be inserted in this Book, it becomes me with all Obedience to submit unto the Order. I. This _G. B._ Was Indicted for Witch-craft, and in the prosecution of the Charge against him, he was Accused by five or six of the Bewitched, as the Author of their Miseries; he was Accused by Eight of the Confessing Witches, as being an head Actor at some of their Hellish Randezvouzes, and one who had the promise of being a King in Satan's Kingdom, now going to be Erected: He was accused by Nine Persons for extraordinary Lifting, and such feats of Strength, as could not be done without a Diabolical Assistance. And for other such things he was Accused, until about thirty Testimonies were brought in against him; nor were these judg'd the half of what might have been considered for his Conviction: However they were enough to fix the Character of a Witch upon him according to the Rules of Reasoning, by the Judicious _Gaule_, in that Case directed. II. The Court being sensible, that the Testimonies of the Parties Bewitched, use to have a Room among the _Suspicions_ or _Presumptions_, brought in against one Indicted for Witch-craft; there were now heard the Testimonies of several Persons, who were most notoriously Bewitched, and every day Tortured by Invisible Hands, and these now all charged the Spectres of _G. B._ to have a share in their Torments. At the Examination of this _G. B._ the Bewitched People were grievously harrassed with Preternatural Mischiefs, which could not possibly be Dissembled; and they still ascribed it unto the endeavours of _G. B._ to Kill them. And now upon the Tryal of one of the Bewitched Persons, testified, that in her Agonies, a little black Hair'd Man came to her, saying his Name was _B._ and bidding her set her hand to a Book which he shewed unto her; and bragging that he was a _Conjurer_, above the ordinary Rank of Witches; That he often Persecuted her with the offer of that Book, saying, _She should be well, and need fear nobody, if she would but Sign it;_ But he inflicted cruel Pains and Hurts upon her, because of her denying so to do. The Testimonies of the other Sufferers concurred with these; and it was remarkable, that whereas _Biting_ was one of the ways which the Witches used for the vexing of the Sufferers; when they cry'd out of _G. B._ Biting them, the print of the Teeth would be seen on the Flesh of the Complainers, and just such a Set of Teeth as _G. B's_ would then appear upon them, which could be distinguished from those of some other Mens. Others of them testified, That in their Torments, _G. B._ tempted them to go unto a Sacrament, unto which they perceived him with a Sound of Trumpet, Summoning of other Witches, who quickly after the Sound, would come from all Quarters unto the Rendezvouz. One of them falling into a kind of Trance, affirmed, that _G. B._ had carried her away into a very high Mountain, where he shewed her mighty and glorious Kingdoms, and said, _He would give them all to her, if she would write in his Book;_ but she told him, _They were none of his to give;_ and refused the Motions; enduring of much Misery for that refusal. It cost the Court a wonderful deal of Trouble, to hear the Testimonies of the Sufferers; for when they were going to give in their Depositions, they would for a long time be taken with Fits, that made them uncapable of saying any thing. The Chief Judg asked the Prisoner, who he thought hindred these Witnesses from giving their _Testimonies_? And he answered, _He supposed it was the Devil._ That Honourable Person replied, _How comes the Devil then to be so loath to have any Testimony born against you?_ Which cast him into very great Confusion. III. It has been a frequent thing for the Bewitched People to be entertained with Apparitions of _Ghosts_ of Murdered People, at the same time that the _Spectres_ of the Witches trouble them. These Ghosts do always affright the Beholders more than all the other spectral Representations; and when they exhibit themselves, they cry out, of being Murthered by the Witch-crafts or other Violences of the Persons who are then in Spectre present. It is further considered, that once or twice, these _Apparitions_ have been seen by others, at the very same time they have shewn themselves to the Bewitched; and seldom have there been these _Apparitions_, but when something unusual or suspected, have attended the Death of the Party thus Appearing. Some that have been accused by these _Apparitions_ accosting of the Bewitched People, who had never heard a word of any such Persons ever being in the World, have upon a fair Examination, freely and fully confessed the Murthers of those very Persons, altho' these also did not know how the Apparitions had complained of them. Accordingly several of the Bewitched, had given in their Testimony, that they had been troubled with the Apparitions of two Women, who said, that they were _G. B's_ two Wives, and that he had been the Death of them; and that the Magistrates must be told of it, before whom if _B._ upon his Tryal denied it, they did not know but that they should appear again in Court. Now, _G. B._ had been Infamous for the Barbarous usage of his two late Wives, all the Country over. Moreover, it was testified, the Spectre of _G. B._ threatning of the Sufferers, told them, he had Killed (besides others) Mrs. _Lawson_ and her Daughter _Ann_. And it was noted, that these were the Vertuous Wife and Daughter of one at whom this _G. B._ might have a prejudice for his being serviceable at _Salem Village_, from whence himself had in ill Terms removed some Years before: And that when they dy'd, which was long since, there were some odd Circumstances about them, which made some of the Attendents there suspect something of Witch-craft, tho none Imagined from what Quarter it should come. Well, _G. B._ being now upon his Tryal, one of the Bewitched Persons was cast into Horror at the Ghost of _B's_ two Deceased Wives then appearing before him, and crying for _Vengeance_ against him. Hereupon several of the Bewitched Persons were successively called in, who all not knowing what the former had seen and said, concurred in their Horror of the Apparition, which they affirmed that he had before him. But he, tho much appalled, utterly deny'd that he discerned any thing of it; nor was it any part of his _Conviction_. IV. Judicious Writers have assigned it a great place in the Conviction of _Witches_, _when Persons are Impeached by other notorious Witches, to be as ill as themselves; especially, if the Persons have been much noted for neglecting the Worship of God_. Now, as there might have been Testimonies enough of _G. B's_ Antipathy to _Prayer_, and the other Ordinances of God, tho by his Profession, singularly Obliged thereunto; so, there now came in against the Prisoner, the Testimonies of several Persons, who confessed their own having been horrible _Witches_, and ever since their Confessions, had been themselves terribly Tortured by the Devils and other Witches, even like the other Sufferers; and therein undergone the Pains of many _Deaths_ for their Confessions. These now testified, that _G. B._ had been at Witch-meetings with them; and that he was the Person who had Seduc'd, and Compell'd them into the snares of Witchcraft; That he promised them _Fine Cloaths_, for doing it; that he brought Poppets to them, and Thorns to stick into those Poppets, for the Afflicting of other People; and that he exhorted them with the rest of the Crew, to Bewitch all _Salem Village_, but besure to do it Gradually, if they would prevail in what they did. When the _Lancashire Witches_ were Condemn'd I don't remember that there was any considerable further Evidence, than that of the Bewitched, and than that of some that confessed. We see so much already against _G. B._ But this being indeed not enough, there were other things to render what had been already produced _credible_. V. A famous Divine recites this among the Convictions of a Witch; _The Testimony of the party Bewitched, whether Pining or Dying; together with the joint Oaths of sufficient Persons that have seen certain Prodigious Pranks or Feats wrought by the Party Accused._ Now, God had been pleased so to leave this _G. B._ that he had ensnared himself by several Instances, which he had formerly given of a Preternatural Strength, and which were now produced against him. He was a very Puny Man, yet he had often done things beyond the strength of a Giant. A Gun of about seven foot Barrel, and so heavy that strong Men could not steadily hold it out with both hands; there were several Testimonies, given in by Persons of Credit and Honor, that he made nothing of taking up such a Gun behind the Lock, with but one hand, and holding it out like a Pistol, at Arms-end. _G. B._ in his Vindication, was so foolish as to say, That _an +Indian+ was there, and held it out at the same time:_ Whereas none of the Spectators ever saw any such _Indian_; but they supposed, the _Black Man_, (as the Witches call the Devil; and they generally say he resembles an _Indian_) might give him that Assistance. There was Evidence likewise brought in, that he made nothing of taking up whole Barrels fill'd with _Malasses_ or _Cider_, in very disadvantageous Postures, and Carrying of them through the difficultest Places out of a Canoo to the Shore. Yea, there were two Testimonies, that _G. B._ with only putting the Fore Finger of his Right hand into the Muzzle of an heavy Gun, a Fowling-piece of about six or seven foot Barrel, did lift up the Gun, and hold it out at Arms-end; a Gun which the Deponents thought strong Men could not with both hands lift up, and hold out at the But-end, as is usual. Indeed, one of these Witnesses was over-perswaded by some Persons, to be out of the way upon _G. B's_ Tryal; but he came afterwards with Sorrow for his withdraw, and gave in his Testimony: Nor were either of these Witnesses made use of as Evidences in the Trial. VI. There came in several Testimonies relating to the Domestick Affairs of _G. B._ which had a very hard Aspect upon him; and not only prov'd him a very ill Man; but also confirmed the belief of the Character, which had been already fastned on him. 'Twas testified, that keeping his two Successive Wives in a strange kind of Slavery, he would when he came home from abroad, pretend to tell the Talk which any had with them; That he has brought them to the point of Death, by his harsh Dealings with his Wives, and then made the People about him, to promise that in case Death should happen, they would say nothing of it; That he used all means to make his Wives Write, Sign, Seal, and Swear a Covenant, never to reveal any of his Secrets; That his Wives had privately complained unto the Neighbours about frightful Apparitions of Evil Spirits, with which their House was sometimes infested; and that many such things have been whispered among the Neighbourhood. There were also some other Testimonies relating to the Death of People whereby the Consciences of an Impartial Jury were convinced that _G. B._ had Bewitched the Persons mentioned in the Complaints. But I am forced to omit several passages, in this as well as in all the succeeding Tryals, because the Scribes who took notice of them, have not supplyed me. VII. One Mr. _Ruck_, Brother-in-Law to this _G. B._ testified, that _G. B._ and himself, and his Sister, who was _G. B's_ Wife, going out for two or three Miles to gather Straw-berries, _Ruck_ with his Sister, the Wife of _G. B._ Rode home very Softly, with _G. B._ on Foot in their Company, _G. B._ stept aside a little into the Bushes; whereupon they halted and Halloo'd for him. He not answering, they went away homewards, with a quickened pace, without expectation of seeing him in a considerable while; and yet when they were got near home, to their Astonishment, they found him on foot with them, having a Basket of Straw-berries. _G. B._ immediately then fell to Chiding his Wife, on the account of what she had been speaking to her Brother, of him, on the Road: which when they wondred at, he said, _He knew their thoughts._ _Ruck_ being startled at that, made some Reply, intimating, that the Devil himself did not know so far; but _G. B._ answered, _My God makes known your Thoughts unto me._ The Prisoner now at the Bar had nothing to answer, unto what was thus witnessed against him, that was worth considering. Only he said, _Ruck, and his Wife left a Man with him, when they left him._ Which _Ruck_ now affirm'd to be false; and when the Court asked _G. B._ _What the Man's Name was?_ his Countenance was much altered; nor could he say, who 'twas. But the Court began to think, that he then step'd aside, only that by the assistance of the _Black Man_, he might put on his _Invisibility_, and in that _Fascinating Mist_, gratifie his own Jealous Humour, to hear what they said of him. Which trick of rendring themselves _Invisible_, our Witches do in their Confessions pretend, that they sometimes are Masters of; and it is the more credible, because there is Demonstration, that they often render many other things utterly _Invisible_. VIII. _Faltring, faulty, unconstant, and contrary Answers upon judicial and deliberate Examination_, are counted some unlucky Symptoms of Guilt, in all Crimes, especially in Witchcrafts. Now there never was a Prisoner more eminent for them, than _G. B._ both at his Examination and on his Trial. His _Tergiversations_, _Contradictions_, and _Falshoods_, were very sensible: he had little to say, but that he had heard some things that he could not prove, Reflecting upon the Reputation of some of the Witnesses. Only he gave in a Paper to the Jury; wherein, altho' he had many times before, granted, not only that there are _Witches_, but also, that the present Sufferings of the Country are the effects of _horrible Witchcrafts_, yet he now goes to evince it, _That there neither are, nor ever were Witches, that having made a Compact with the Devil, can send a Devil to Torment other people at a distance._ This Paper was Transcribed out of _Ady_; which the Court presently knew, as soon as they heard it. But he said, he had taken none of it out of any Book; for which, his Evasion afterwards, was, That a Gentleman gave him the Discourse in a Manuscript, from whence he Transcribed it. IX. The Jury brought him in _Guilty_: But when he came to Die, he utterly deni'd the Fact, whereof he had been thus convicted. II. THE TRYAL OF BRIDGET BISHOP, ALIAS OLIVER, AT THE COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER, HELD AT SALEM, JUNE 2. 1692. I. She was Indicted for Bewitching of several Persons in the Neighbourhood, the Indictment being drawn up, according to the _Form_ in such Cases usual. And pleading, _Not Guilty_, there were brought in several persons, who had long undergone many kinds of Miseries, which were preternaturally inflicted, and generally ascribed unto an _horrible Witchcraft_. There was little occasion to prove the _Witchcraft_, it being evident and notorious to all beholders. Now to fix the _Witchcraft_ on the Prisoner at the Bar, the first thing used, was the Testimony of the _Bewitched_; whereof several testifi'd, That the _Shape_ of the Prisoner did oftentimes very grievously Pinch them, Choak them, Bite them, and Afflict them; urging them to write their Names in a _Book_, which the said Spectre called, _Ours_. One of them did further testifie, that it was the _Shape_ of this Prisoner, with another, which one day took her from her Wheel, and carrying her to the Riverside, threatned there to Drown her, if she did not Sign to the _Book_ mentioned: which yet she refused. Others of them did also testifie, that the said _Shape_ did in her Threats brag to them that she had been the Death of sundry Persons, then by her named; that she had _Ridden_ a Man then likewise named. Another testifi'd, the Apparition of _Ghosts_ unto the Spectre of _Bishop_, crying out, _You Murdered us!_ About the Truth whereof, there was in the Matter of Fact but too much suspicion. II. It was testifi'd, That at the Examination of the Prisoner before the Magistrates, the Bewitched were extreamly tortured. If she did but cast her Eyes on them, they were presently struck down; and this in such a manner as there could be no Collusion in the Business. But upon the Touch of her Hand upon them, when they lay in their Swoons, they would immediately Revive; and not upon the Touch of any ones else. Moreover, Upon some Special Actions of her Body, as the shaking of her Head, or the turning of her Eyes, they presently and painfully fell into the like postures. And many of the like Accidents now fell out, while she was at the Bar. One at the same time testifying, That she said, _She could not be troubled to see the afflicted thus tormented._ III. There was Testimony likewise brought in, that a Man striking once at the place, where a bewitched person said, the _Shape_ of this _Bishop_ stood, the bewitched cried out, _That he had tore her Coat_, in the place then particularly specifi'd; and the Woman's Coat was found to be Torn in that very place. IV. One _Deliverance Hobbs_, who had confessed her being a Witch, was now tormented by the Spectres, for her Confession. And she now testifi'd, That this _Bishop_ tempted her to Sign the _Book_ again, and to deny what she had confess'd. She affirm'd, That it was the Shape of this Prisoner, which whipped her with Iron Rods, to compel her thereunto. And she affirmed, that this _Bishop_ was at a General Meeting of the Witches, in a Field at _Salem_-Village, and there partook of a Diabolical Sacrament in Bread and Wine then administred. V. To render it further unquestionable, that the Prisoner at the Bar, was the Person truly charged in THIS _Witchcraft_, there were produced many Evidences of OTHER _Witchcrafts_, by her perpetrated. For Instance, _John Cook_ testifi'd, That about five or six Years ago, one Morning, about Sun-Rise, he was in his Chamber assaulted by the _Shape_ of this Prisoner: which look'd on him, grinn'd at him, and very much hurt him with a Blow on the side of the Head: and that on the same day, about Noon, the same _Shape_ walked in the Room where he was, and an Apple strangely flew out of his Hand, into the Lap of his Mother, six or eight Foot from him. VI. _Samuel Gray_ testifi'd, That about fourteen Years ago, he wak'd on a Night, and saw the Room where he lay full of Light; and that he then saw plainly a Woman between the Cradle, and the Bed-side, which look'd upon him. He rose, and it vanished; tho' he found the Doors all fast. Looking out at the Entry-door, he saw the same Woman, in the same Garb again; and said, _In God's Name, what do you come for?_ He went to Bed, and had the same Woman again assaulting him. The Child in the Cradle gave a great Screech, and the Woman disappeared. It was long before the Child could be quieted; and tho' it were a very likely thriving Child, yet from this time it pined away, and, after divers Months, died in a sad Condition. He knew not _Bishop_, nor her Name; but when he saw her after this, he knew by her Countenance, and Apparel, and all Circumstances, that it was the Apparition of this _Bishop_, which had thus troubled him. VII. _John Bly_ and his Wife testifi'd, That he bought a Sow of _Edward Bishop_, the Husband of the Prisoner; and was to pay the Price agreed, unto another person. This Prisoner being angry that she was thus hindred from fingring the Mony, quarrell'd with _Bly_. Soon after which, the Sow was taken with strange Fits; Jumping, Leaping, and Knocking her Head against the Fence; she seem'd Blind and Deaf, and would neither Eat nor be Suck'd. Whereupon a Neighbour said, she believed the Creature was _Over-looked_; and sundry other Circumstances concurred, which made the Deponents believe that _Bishop_ had bewitched it. VIII. _Richard Coman_ testifi'd, That eight Years ago, as he lay awake in his Bed, with a Light burning in the Room, he was annoy'd with the Apparition of this _Bishop_, and of two more that were strangers to him, who came and oppressed him so, that he could neither stir himself, nor wake any one else, and that he was the Night after, molested again in the like manner; the said _Bishop_, taking him by the Throat, and pulling him almost out of the Bed. His Kinsman offered for this cause to lodge with him; and that Night, as they were awake, discoursing together, this _Coman_ was once more visited by the Guests which had formerly been so troublesom; his Kinsman being at the same time struck speechless, and unable to move Hand or Foot. He had laid his Sword by him, which these unhappy Spectres did strive much to wrest from him; only he held too fast for them. He then grew able to call the People of his House; but altho' they heard him, yet they had not power to speak or stir; until at last, one of the People crying out, _What's the matter?_ The Spectres all vanished. IX. _Samuel Shattock_ testify'd, That in the Year, 1680, this _Bridget Bishop_, often came to his House upon such frivolous and foolish Errands, that they suspected she came indeed with a purpose of mischief. Presently, whereupon, his eldest Child, which was of as promising Health and Sense, as any Child of its Age, began to droop exceedingly; and the oftner that _Bishop_ came to the House, the worse grew the Child. As the Child would be standing at the Door, he would be thrown and bruised against the Stones, by an invisible Hand, and in like sort knock his Face against the sides of the House, and bruise it after a miserable manner. Afterwards this _Bishop_ would bring him things to Dye, whereof he could not imagin any use; and when she paid him a piece of Mony, the Purse and Mony were unaccountably conveyed out of a lock'd Box, and never seen any more. The Child was immediately, hereupon, taken with terrible Fits, whereof his Friends thought he would have dyed: Indeed he did almost nothing but Cry and Sleep for several Months together; and at length his Understanding was utterly taken away. Among other Symptoms of an Inchantment upon him, one was, That there was a Board in the Garden, whereon he would walk; and all the Invitations in the World could never fetch him off. About 17 or 18 years after, there came a Stranger to _Shattock's_ House, who seeing the Child, said, _This poor Child is Bewitched; and you have a Neighbour living not far off, who is a Witch._ He added, _Your Neighbour has had a falling out with your Wife; and she said, in her Heart, your Wife is a proud Woman, and she would bring down her Pride in this Child._ He then remembred, that _Bishop_ had parted from his Wife in muttering and menacing Terms, a little before the Child was taken Ill. The abovesaid Stranger would needs carry the bewitched Boy with him, to _Bishop's_ House, on pretence of buying a pot of Cyder. The Woman entertained him in furious manner; and flew also upon the Boy, scratching his Face till the Blood came; and saying, _Thou Rogue, what dost thou bring this Fellow here to plague me?_ Now it seems the Man had said, before he went, That he would fetch Blood of _her_. Ever after the Boy was follow'd with grievous Fits, which the Doctors themselves generally ascribed unto _Witchcraft_; and wherein he would be thrown still into the _Fire_ or the _Water_, if he were not constantly look'd after; and it was verily believed that _Bishop_ was the cause of it. X. _John Louder_ testify'd, That upon some little Controversy with _Bishop_ about her Fowls, going well to Bed, he did awake in the Night by Moonlight, and did see clearly the likeness of this Woman grievously oppressing him; in which miserable condition she held him, unable to help himself, till near Day. He told _Bishop_ of this; but she deny'd it, and threatned him very much. Quickly after this, being at home on a Lords day, with the doors shut about him, he saw a black Pig approach him; at which, he going to kick, it vanished away. Immediately after, sitting down, he saw a black Thing jump in at the Window, and come and stand before him. The Body was like that of a Monkey, the Feet like a Cocks, but the Face much like a Mans. He being so extreamly affrighted, that he could not speak; this Monster spoke to him, and said, _I am a Messenger sent unto you, for I understand that you are in some Trouble of Mind, and if you will be ruled by me, you shall want for nothing in this World._ Whereupon he endeavoured to clap his Hands upon it; but he could feel no substance; and it jumped out of the Window again; but immediately came in by the Porch, tho' the Doors were shut, and said, _You had better take my Counsel!_ He then struck at it with a Stick, but struck only the Ground, and broke the Stick: The Arm with which he struck was presently Disenabled, and it vanished away. He presently went out at the Back-door, and spied this _Bishop_, in her Orchard, going toward her House; but he had not power to set one foot forward unto her. Whereupon, returning into the House, he was immediately accosted by the Monster he had seen before; which Goblin was now going to fly at him; whereat he cry'd out, _The whole Armour of God be between me and you!_ So it sprang back, and flew over the Apple-tree; shaking many Apples off the Tree, in its flying over. At its leap, it flung Dirt with its Feet against the Stomack of the Man; whereon he was then struck Dumb, and so continued for three Days together. Upon the producing of this Testimony, _Bishop_ deny'd that she knew this Deponent: Yet their two Orchards joined; and they had often had their little Quarrels for some years together. XI. _William Stacy_ testify'd, That receiving Mony of this _Bishop_, for work done by him; he was gone but a matter of three Rods from her, and looking for his Mony, found it unaccountably gone from him. Some time after, _Bishop_ asked him, whether her Father would grind her Grist for her? He demanded why? She reply'd, _Because Folks count me a Witch._ He answered, _No question but he will grind it for you._ Being then gone about six Rods from her, with a small Load in his Cart, suddenly the Off-wheel stump'd, and sunk down into an hole, upon plain Ground; so that the Deponent was forced to get help for the recovering of the Wheel: But stepping back to look for the hole, which might give him this Disaster, there was none at all to be found. Some time after, he was waked in the Night; but it seem'd as light as day; and he perfectly saw the shape of this _Bishop_ in the Room, troubling of him; but upon her going out, all was dark again. He charg'd _Bishop_ afterwards with it, and she deny'd it not; but was very angry. Quickly after, this Deponent having been threatned by _Bishop_, as he was in a dark Night going to the Barn, he was very suddenly taken or lifted from the Ground, and thrown against a Stone-wall: After that, he was again hoisted up and thrown down a Bank, at the end of his House. After this again, passing by this _Bishop_, his Horse with a small Load, striving to draw, all his Gears flew to pieces, and the Cart fell down; and this Deponent going then to lift a Bag of Corn, of about two Bushels, could not budge it with all his Might. Many other Pranks of this _Bishop's_ this Deponent was ready to testify. He also testify'd, That he verily believ'd, the said _Bishop_ was the Instrument of his Daughter _Priscilla's_ Death; of which suspicion, pregnant Reasons were assigned. XII. To crown all, _John Bly_ and _William Bly_ testify'd, That being employ'd by _Bridget Bishop_, to help to take down the Cellar-wall of the old House wherein she formerly lived, they did in holes of the said old Wall, find several _Poppets_, made up of Rags and Hogs-bristles, with headless Pins in them, the Points being outward; whereof she could give no Account unto the Court, that was reasonable or tolerable. XIII. One thing that made against the Prisoner was, her being evidently convicted of _gross Lying_ in the Court, several times, while she was making her Plea; but besides this, a Jury of Women found a preternatural Teat upon her Body: But upon a second search, within 3 or 4 hours, there was no such thing to be seen. There was also an Account of other People whom this Woman had Afflicted; and there might have been many more, if they had been enquired for; but there was no need of them. XIV. There was one very strange thing more, with which the Court was newly entertained. As this Woman was under a Guard, passing by the great and spacious Meeting-house of _Salem_, she gave a look towards the House: And immediately a _Dæmon_ invisibly entring the Meeting-house, tore down a part of it; so that tho' there was no Person to be seen there, yet the People, at the noise, running in, found a Board, which was strongly fastned with several Nails, transported unto another quarter of the House. III. THE TRYAL OF SUSANNA MARTIN, AT THE COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER, HELD BY ADJOURNMENT AT SALEM, JUNE 29. 1692. I. _Susanna Martin_, pleading _Not Guilty_ to the Indictment of _Witchcraft_, brought in against her, there were produced the Evidences of many Persons very sensibly and grievously Bewitched; who all complained of the Prisoner at the Bar, as the Person whom they believed the cause of their Miseries. And now, as well as in the other Trials, there was an extraordinary Endeavour by _Witchcrafts_, with Cruel and frequent Fits, to hinder the poor Sufferers from giving in their Complaints, which the Court was forced with much Patience to obtain, by much waiting and watching for it. II. There was now also an account given of what passed at her first Examination before the Magistrates. The Cast of her _Eye_, then striking the afflicted People to the Ground, whether they saw that Cast or no; there were these among other Passages between the Magistrates and the Examinate. _Magistrate._ Pray, what ails these People? _Martin._ I don't know. _Magistrate._ But what do you think ails them? _Martin._ I don't desire to spend my Judgment upon it. _Magistrate._ Don't you think they are bewitch'd? _Martin._ No, I do not think they are. _Magistrate._ Tell us your Thoughts about them then. _Martin._ No, my thoughts are my own, when they are in, but when they are out they are anothers. Their Master.---- _Magistrate._ Their Master? who do you think is their Master? _Martin._ If they be dealing in the Black Art, you may know as well as I. _Magistrate._ Well, what have you done towards this? _Martin._ Nothing at all. _Magistrate._ Why, 'tis you or your Appearance. _Martin._ I cannot help it. _Magistrate._ Is it not _your_ Master? How comes your Appearance to hurt these? _Martin._ How do I know? He that appeared in the Shape of _Samuel_, a glorified Saint, may appear in any ones Shape. It was then also noted in her, as in others like her, that if the Afflicted went to approach her, they were flung down to the Ground. And, when she was asked the reason of it, she said, _I cannot tell; it may be, the Devil bears me more Malice than another._ III. The Court accounted themselves, alarum'd by these Things, to enquire further into the Conversation of the Prisoner; and see what there might occur, to render these Accusations further credible. Whereupon, _John Allen_ of _Salisbury_, testify'd, That he refusing, because of the weakness of his Oxen, to Cart some Staves at the request of this _Martin_, she was displeased at it; and said, _It had been as good that he had; for his Oxen should never do him much more Service._ Whereupon, this Deponent said, _Dost thou threaten me, thou old Witch? I'l throw thee into the Brook:_ Which to avoid, she flew over the Bridge, and escaped. But, as he was going home, one of his Oxen tired, so that he was forced to Unyoke him, that he might get him home. He then put his Oxen, with many more, upon _Salisbury_ Beach, where Cattle did use to get _Flesh_. In a few days, all the Oxen upon the Beach were found by their Tracks, to have run unto the Mouth of _Merrimack-River_, and not returned; but the next day they were found come ashore upon _Plum-Island_. They that sought them, used all imaginable gentleness, but they would still run away with a violence, that seemed wholly Diabolical, till they came near the mouth of _Merrimack-River_; when they ran right into the Sea, swimming as far as they could be seen. One of them then swam back again, with a swiftness, amazing to the Beholders, who stood ready to receive him, and help up his tired Carcass: But the Beast ran furiously up into the Island, and from thence, thorough the Marshes, up into _Newbury_ Town, and so up into the Woods; and there after a while found near _Amesbury_. So that, of fourteen good Oxen, there was only this saved: The rest were all cast up, some in one place, and some in another, Drowned. IV. _John Atkinson_ testifi'd, That he exchanged a Cow with a Son of _Susanna Martin's_, whereat she muttered, and was unwilling he should have it. Going to receive this Cow, tho he Hamstring'd her, and Halter'd her, she, of a Tame Creature, grew so mad, that they could scarce get her along. She broke all the Ropes that were fastned unto her, and though she were ty'd fast unto a Tree, yet she made her escape, and gave them such further trouble, as they could ascribe to no cause but Witchcraft. V. _Bernard Peache_ testifi'd, That being in Bed, on the Lord's-day Night, he heard a scrabbling at the Window, whereat he then saw _Susanna Martin_ come in, and jump down upon the Floor. She took hold of this Deponent's Feet, and drawing his Body up into an Heap, she lay upon him near Two Hours; in all which time he could neither speak nor stir. At length, when he could begin to move, he laid hold on her Hand, and pulling it up to his Mouth, he bit three of her Fingers, as he judged, unto the Bone. Whereupon she went from the Chamber, down the Stairs, out at the Door. This Deponent thereupon called unto the People of the House, to advise them of what passed; and he himself did follow her. The People saw her not; but there being a Bucket at the Left-hand of the Door, there was a drop of Blood found upon it; and several more drops of Blood upon the Snow newly fallen abroad: There was likewise the print of her 2 Feet just without the Threshold; but no more sign of any Footing further off. At another time this Deponent was desired by the Prisoner, to come unto an Husking of Corn, at her House; and she said, _If he did not come, it were better that he did!_ He went not; but the Night following, _Susanna Martin_, as he judged, and another came towards him. One of them said, _Here he is!_ but he having a Quarter-staff, made a Blow at them. The Roof of the Barn, broke his Blow; but following them to the Window, he made another Blow at them, and struck them down; yet they got up, and got out, and he saw no more of them. About this time, there was a Rumour about the Town, that _Martin_ had a Broken Head; but the Deponent could say nothing to that. The said _Peache_ also testifi'd the Bewitching the Cattle to Death, upon Martin's Discontents. VI. _Robert Downer_ testified, That this Prisoner being some Years ago prosecuted at Court for a Witch, he then said unto her, _He believed she was a Witch._ Whereat she being dissatisfied, said, _That some She-Devil would shortly fetch him away!_ Which words were heard by others, as well as himself. The Night following, as he lay in his Bed, there came in at the Window, the likeness of a _Cat_, which flew upon him, took fast hold of his Throat, lay on him a considerable while, and almost killed him. At length he remembred what _Susanna Martin_ had threatned the Day before; and with much striving he cried out, _Avoid, thou She-Devil! In the Name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Avoid!_ Whereupon it left him, leap'd on the Floor, and flew out at the Window. And there also came in several Testimonies, that before ever _Downer_ spoke a word of this Accident, _Susanna Martin_ and her Family had related, _How this +Downer+ had been handled_! VII. _John Kembal_ testified, that _Susanna Martin_, upon a Causeless Disgust, had threatned him, about a certain Cow of his, _That she should never do him any more Good:_ and it came to pass accordingly. For soon after the Cow was found stark dead on the dry Ground, without any Distemper to be discerned upon her. Upon which he was followed with a strange Death upon more of his Cattle, whereof he lost in one Spring to the Value of Thirty Pounds. But the said _John Kembal_ had a further Testimony to give in against the Prisoner which was truly admirable. Being desirous to furnish himself with a Dog, he applied himself to buy one of this _Martin_, who had a Bitch with Whelps in her House. But she not letting him have his choice, he said, he would supply himself then at one _Blezdels_. Having mark'd a Puppy, which he lik'd at _Blezdels_, he met _George Martin_, the Husband of the Prisoner, going by, who asked him, _Whether he would not have one of his Wife's Puppies?_ and he answered, _No._ The same Day, one _Edmond Eliot_, being at _Martin's_ House, heard _George Martin_ relate, where this _Kembal_ had been, and what he had said. Whereupon _Susanna Martin_ replied, _If I live, I'll give him Puppies enough!_ Within a few days after, this _Kembal_, coming out of the Woods, there arose a little Black Cloud in the N. W. and _Kembal_ immediately felt a force upon him, which made him not able to avoid running upon the stumps of Trees, that were before him, albeit he had a broad, plain Cart-way, before him; but tho' he had his Ax also on his Shoulder to endanger him in his Falls, he could not forbear going out of his way to tumble over them. When he came below the Meeting House, there appeared unto him, a little thing like a _Puppy_, of a Darkish Colour; and it shot backwards and forwards between his Legs. He had the Courage to use all possible Endeavours of Cutting it with his Ax; but he could not Hit it: the Puppy gave a jump from him, and went, as to him it seem'd into the Ground. Going a little further, there appeared unto him a Black Puppy, somewhat bigger than the first, but as Black as a Cole. Its Motions were quicker than those of his Ax; it flew at his Belly, and away; then at his Throat; so, over his Shoulder one way, and then over his Shoulder another way. His Heart now began to fail him, and he thought the Dog would have tore his Throat out. But he recovered himself, and called upon God in his Distress; and naming the Name of JESUS CHRIST, it vanished away at once. The Deponent spoke not one Word of these Accidents, for fear of affrighting his Wife. But the next Morning, _Edmond Eliot_, going into _Martin's_ House, this Woman asked him where Kembal was? He replied, _At home, a Bed, for ought he knew._ She returned, _They say, he was frighted last Night._ Eliot asked, _With what?_ She answered, _With Puppies._ _Eliot_ asked, _Where she heard of it, for he had heard nothing of it?_ She rejoined, _About the Town._ Altho' _Kembal_ had mentioned the Matter to no Creature living. VIII. _William Brown_ testifi'd, That Heaven having blessed him with a most Pious and Prudent Wife, this Wife of his, one day met with _Susanna Martin_; but when she approach'd just unto her, _Martin_ vanished out of sight, and left her extreamly affrighted. After which time, the said _Martin_ often appear'd unto her, giving her no little trouble; and when she did come, she was visited with Birds, that sorely peck'd and prick'd her; and sometimes, a Bunch, like a Pullet's Egg, would rise in her Throat, ready to choak her, till she cry'd out, _Witch, you shan't choak me!_ While this good Woman was in this extremity, the Church appointed a Day of Prayer, on her behalf; whereupon her Trouble ceas'd; she saw not _Martin_ as formerly; and the Church, instead of their Fast, gave Thanks for her Deliverance. But a considerable while after, she being Summoned to give in some Evidence at the Court, against this _Martin_, quickly thereupon, this _Martin_ came behind her, while she was milking her Cow, and said unto her, _For thy defaming her at Court, I'll make thee the miserablest Creature in the World._ Soon after which, she fell into a strange kind of distemper, and became horribly frantick, and uncapable of any reasonable Action; the Physicians declaring, that her Distemper was preternatural, and that some Devil had certainly bewitched her; and in that condition she now remained. IX. _Sarah Atkinson_ testify'd, That _Susanna Martin_ came from _Amesbury_ to their House at _Newbury_, in an extraordinary Season, when it was not fit for any to Travel. She came (as she said, unto _Atkinson_) all that long way on Foot. She brag'd and shew'd how dry she was; nor could it be perceived that so much as the Soles of her Shoes were wet. _Atkinson_ was amazed at it; and professed, that she should her self have been wet up to the knees, if she had then came so far; but _Martin_ reply'd, _She scorn'd to be Drabbled!_ It was noted, that this Testimony upon her Trial, cast her in a very singular Confusion. X. _John Pressy_ testify'd, That being one Evening very unaccountably Bewildred, near a Field of _Martins_, and several times, as one under an Enchantment, returning to the place he had left, at length he saw a marvellous Light, about the bigness of an Half-bushel, near two Rod, out of the way. He went, and struck at it with a Stick, and laid it on with all his might. He gave it near forty blows; and felt it a palpable substance. But going from it, his Heels were struck up, and he was laid with his Back on the Ground, sliding, as he thought, into a Pit; from whence he recover'd by taking hold on the Bush; altho' afterwards he could find no such Pit in the place. Having, after his Recovery, gone five or six Rod, he saw _Susanna Martin_ standing on his Left-hand, as the Light had done before; but they changed no words with one another. He could scarce find his House in his Return; but at length he got home extreamly affrighted. The next day, it was upon Enquiry understood, that _Martin_ was in a miserable condition by pains and hurts that were upon her. It was further testify'd by this Deponent, That after he had given in some Evidence against _Susanna Martin_, many years ago, she gave him foul words about it; and said, _He should never prosper more;_ particularly, _That he should never have more than two Cows; that tho' he was never so likely to have more, yet he should never have them._ And that from that very day to this, namely for twenty years together, he could never exceed that number; but some strange thing or other still prevented his having any more. XI. _Jervis Ring_ testify'd, That about seven years ago, he was oftentimes and grievously oppressed in the Night, but saw not who troubled him; until at last he Lying perfectly Awake, plainly saw _Susanna Martin_ approach him. She came to him, and forceably bit him by the Finger; so that the Print of the bite is now, so long after, to be seen upon him. XII. But besides all of these Evidences, there was a most wonderful Account of one _Joseph Ring_, produced on this occasion. This Man has been strangely carried about by _Dæmons_, from one _Witch-meeting_ to another, for near two years together; and for one quarter of this time, they have made him, and keep him Dumb, tho' he is now again able to speak. There was one _T. H._ who having, as 'tis judged, a design of engaging this _Joseph Ring_ in a snare of Devillism, contrived a while, to bring this _Ring_ two Shillings in Debt unto him. Afterwards, this poor Man would be visited with unknown shapes, and this _T. H._ sometimes among them; which would force him away with them, unto unknown Places, where he saw Meetings, Feastings, Dancings; and after his return, wherein they hurried him along through the Air, he gave Demonstrations to the Neighbours, that he had indeed been so transported. When he was brought unto these hellish Meetings, one of the first Things they still did unto him, was to give him a knock on the Back, whereupon he was ever as if bound with Chains, uncapable of stirring out of the place, till they should release him. He related, that there often came to him a Man, who presented him a _Book_, whereto he would have him set his Hand; promising to him, that he should then have even what he would; and presenting him with all the delectable Things, Persons, and Places, that he could imagin. But he refusing to subscribe, the business would end with dreadful Shapes, Noises and Screeches, which almost scared him out of his Wits. Once with the Book, there was a Pen offered him, and an Ink-horn with Liquor in it, that seemed like Blood: But he never toucht it. This Man did now affirm, That he saw the Prisoner at several of those hellish Randezvouzes. Note, this Woman was one of the most impudent, scurrilous, wicked Creatures in the World; and she did now throughout her whole Tryal, discover her self to be such an one. Yet when she was asked, what she had to say for her self? Her chief Plea was, _That she had lead a most virtuous and holy Life._ IV. THE TRYAL OF ELIZABETH HOW, AT THE COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER, HELD BY ADJOURNMENT AT SALEM, JUNE 30. 1692. I. _Elizabeth How_ pleading _Not Guilty_ to the Indictment of Witchcrafts, then charged upon her; the Court, according to the usual Proceedings of the Courts in _England_, in such Cases, began with hearing the Depositions of several afflicted People, who were grievously tortured by sensible and evident _Witchcrafts_, and all complained of the Prisoner, as the cause of their Trouble. It was also found that the Sufferers were not able to bear her _Look_, as likewise, that in their greatest Swoons, they distinguished her _Touch_ from other Peoples, being thereby raised out of them. And there was other Testimony of People to whom the shape of this _How_, gave trouble nine or ten years ago. II. It has been a most usual thing for the bewitched Persons, at the same time that the _Spectres_, representing the _Witches_, troubled them, to be visited with Apparitions of _Ghosts_, pretending to have been Murdered by the _Witches_ then represented. And sometimes the Confessions of the Witches afterwards acknowledged those very Murders, which these _Apparitions_ charged upon them; altho' they had never heard what Informations had been given by the Sufferers. There were such Apparitions of Ghosts testified by some of the present Sufferers; and the Ghosts affirmed, that this _How_ had Murdered them: Which things were _fear'd_ but not _prov'd_. III. This _How_ had made some Attempts of joyning to the Church at _Ipswich_, several years ago; but she was denyed an admission into that Holy Society, partly through a suspicion of Witchcraft, then urged against her. And there now came in Testimony, of preternatural Mischiefs, presently befalling some that had been Instrumental to debar her from the Communion whereupon she was intruding. IV. There was a particular Deposition of _Joseph Stafford_, That his Wife had conceived an extream Aversion to this _How_, on the Reports of her Witchcrafts: But _How_ one day, taking her by the Hand, and saying, _I believe you are not ignorant of the great Scandal that I lye under, by an evil Report raised upon me._ She immediately, unreasonably and unperswadeably, even like one Enchanted, began to take this Woman's part. _How_ being soon after propounded, as desiring an Admission to the Table of the Lord, some of the pious Brethren were unsatisfy'd about her. The Elders appointed a Meeting to hear Matters objected against her; and no Arguments in the World could hinder this Goodwife _Stafford_ from going to the Lecture. She did indeed promise, with much ado, that she would not go to the Church-meeting, yet she could not refrain going thither also. _How's_ Affairs there were so canvased, that she came off rather _Guilty_ than _Cleared_; nevertheless Goodwife _Stafford_ could not forbear taking her by the Hand, and saying, _Tho' you are Condemned before Men, you are Justify'd before God._ She was quickly taken in a very strange manner, Ranting, Raving, Raging and crying out, _Goody +How+ must come into the Church; she is a precious Saint; and tho' she be condemned before Men, she is Justify'd before God._ So she continued for the space of two or three Hours; and then fell into a Trance. But coming to her self, she cry'd out, _Ha! I was mistaken;_ and afterwards again repeated, _Ha! I was mistaken!_ Being asked by a stander by, _Wherein?_ she replyed, _I thought Goody +How+ had been a precious Saint of God, but now I see she is a Witch: She has bewitched me, and my Child, and we shall never be well, till there be a Testimony for her, that she may be taken into the Church._ And _How_ said afterwards, that she was very sorry to see _Stafford_ at the Church-meeting mentioned. _Stafford_, after this, declared herself to be afflicted by the Shape of _How_; and from that Shape she endured many Miseries. V. _John How_, Brother to the Husband of the Prisoner testified, that he refusing to accompany the Prisoner unto her Examination, as was by her desired, immediately some of his Cattle were Bewitched to Death, leaping three or four foot high, turning about, speaking, falling, and dying at once; and going to cut off an Ear, for an use, that might as well perhaps have been omitted, the Hand wherein he held his Knife was taken very numb, and so it remained, and full of Pain, for several Days, being not well at this very Time. And he suspected the Prisoner for the Author of it. VI. _Nehemiah Abbot_ testify'd, that unusual and mischievous Accidents would befal his Cattle, whenever he had any Difference with this Prisoner. Once, particularly, she wished his Ox choaked; and within a little while that Ox was choaked with a Turnep in his Throat. At another Time, refusing to lend his Horse, at the Request of her Daughter, the Horse was in a preternatural manner abused. And several other odd things of that kind were testified. VII. There came in Testimony, that one Good-wife _Sherwin_, upon some Difference with _How_, was Bewitched; and that she dyed, charging this _How_ with having an Hand in her Death. And that other People had their Barrels of Drink unaccountably mischieved, spoil'd and spilt, upon their displeasing of her. The things in themselves were trivial, but there being such a Course of them, it made them the more considered. Among others, _Martha Wood_, gave her Testimony, That a little after her Father had been employed in gathering an account of _How's_ Conversation, they once and again lost great Quantities of Drink out of their Vessels, in such a manner, as they could ascribe to nothing but Witchcraft. As also, That _How_ giving her some Apples, when she had eaten of them, she was taken with a very strange kind of Amaze, insomuch that she knew not what she said or did. VIII. There was likewise a Cluster of Depositions, That one _Isaac Cummings_ refusing to lend his Mare unto the Husband of this _How_, the Mare was within a Day or two taken in a strange condition: The Beast seemed much abused, being bruised as if she had been running over the Rocks, and marked where the Bridle went, as if burnt with a red hot Bridle. Moreover, one using a Pipe of Tobacco for the Cure of the Beast, a blue Flame issued out of her, took hold of her Hair, and not only spread and burnt on her, but it also flew upwards towards the Roof of the Barn, and had like to have set the Barn on Fire: And the Mare dyed very suddenly. IX. _Timothy Pearley_ and his Wife, testifyd, Not only unaccountable Mischiefs befel their Cattle, upon their having of Differences with this Prisoner: but also that they had a Daughter destroyed by Witchcrafts; which Daughter still charged _How_ as the Cause of her Affliction. And it was noted, that she would be struck down whenever _How_ were spoken of. She was often endeavoured to be thrown into the Fire, and into the Water, in her strange Fits: Tho' her Father had corrected her for charging _How_ with bewitching her, yet (as was testified by others also) she said, She was sure of it, and must dye standing to it. Accordingly she charged _How_ to the very Death; and said, _Tho' How could afflict and torment her Body, yet she could not hurt her Soul:_ And, _That the Truth of this matter would appear, when she should be dead and gone._ X. _Francis Lane_ testified, That being hired by the Husband of this _How_ to get him a parcel of Posts and Rails, this _Lane_ hired _John Pearly_ to assist him. This Prisoner then told _Lane_, That she believed the Posts and Rails would not do, because _John Pearly_ helped him; but that if he had got them alone, without _John Pearly's_ help, they might have done well enough. When _James How_ came to receive his Posts and Rails of _Lane_, _How_ taking them up by the Ends, they, tho' good and sound, yet unaccountably broke off, so that _Lane_ was forced to get thirty or forty more. And this Prisoner being informed of it, she said, She told him so before, because _Pearly_ helped about them. XI. Afterwards there came in the Confessions of several other (penitent) Witches, which affirmed this _How_ to be one of those, who with them had been baptized by the Devil in the River, at _Newbury_-Falls: before which he made them there kneel down by the Brink of the River and worshiped him. V. THE TRIAL OF MARTHA CARRIER, AT THE COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER, HELD BY ADJOURNMENT AT SALEM, AUGUST 2. 1692. I. _Martha Carrier_ was Indicted for the bewitching certain Persons, according to the Form usual in such Cases, pleading _Not Guilty_, to her Indictment; there were first brought in a considerable number of the bewitched Persons; who not only made the Court sensible of an horrid Witchcraft committed upon them, but also deposed, That it was _Martha Carrier_, or her Shape, that grievously tormented them, by Biting, Pricking, Pinching and Choaking of them. It was further deposed, That while this _Carrier_ was on her Examination, before the Magistrates, the Poor People were so tortured that every one expected their Death upon the very spot, but that upon the binding of _Carrier_ they were eased. Moreover the Look of _Carrier_ then laid the Afflicted People for dead; and her Touch, if her Eye at the same time were off them, raised them again: Which Things were also now seen upon her Tryal. And it was testified, That upon the mention of some having their Necks twisted almost round, by the Shape of this _Carrier_, she replyed, _Its no matter though their Necks had been twisted quite off._ II. Before the Trial of this Prisoner, several of her own Children had frankly and fully confessed, not only that they were Witches themselves, but that this their Mother had made them so. This Confession they made with great Shews of Repentance, and with much Demonstration of Truth. They related Place, Time, Occasion; they gave an account of Journeys, Meetings and Mischiefs by them performed, and were very credible in what they said. Nevertheless, this Evidence was not produced against the Prisoner at the Bar, inasmuch as there was other Evidence enough to proceed upon. III. _Benjamin Abbot_ gave his Testimony, That last March was a twelvemonth, this _Carrier_ was very angry with him, upon laying out some Land, near her Husband's: Her Expressions in this Anger, were, _That she would stick as close to +Abbot+ as the Bark stuck to the Tree; and that he should repent of it afore seven Years came to an End, so as Doctor +Prescot+ should never cure him._ These Words were heard by others besides _Abbot_ himself; who also heard her say, _She would hold his Nose as close to the Grindstone as ever it was held since his Name was +Abbot+._ Presently after this, he was taken with a Swelling in his Foot, and then with a Pain in his Side, and exceedingly tormented. It bred into a Sore, which was launced by Doctor _Prescot_, and several Gallons of Corruption ran out of it. For six Weeks it continued very bad, and then another Sore bred in the Groin, which was also lanced by Doctor _Prescot_. Another Sore then bred in his Groin, which was likewise cut, and put him to very great Misery: He was brought unto Death's Door, and so remained until _Carrier_ was taken, and carried away by the Constable, from which very Day he began to mend, and so grew better every Day, and is well ever since. _Sarah Abbot_ also, his Wife, testified, That her Husband was not only all this while Afflicted in his Body, but also that strange extraordinary and unaccountable Calamities befel his Cattel; their Death being such as they could guess at no Natural Reason for. IV. _Allin Toothaker_ testify'd, That _Richard_, the son of _Martha Carrier_, having some difference with him, pull'd him down by the Hair of the Head. When he Rose again, he was going to strike at _Richard Carrier_; but fell down flat on his Back to the ground, and had not power to stir hand or foot, until he told _Carrier_ he yielded; and then he saw the shape of _Martha Carrier_, go off his breast. This _Toothaker_, had Received a wound in the _Wars_; and he now testify'd, that _Martha Carrier_ told him, _He should never be Cured._ Just afore the Apprehending of _Carrier_, he could thrust a knitting Needle into his wound, four inches deep; but presently after her being siezed, he was throughly healed. He further testify'd, that when _Carrier_ and he sometimes were at variance, she would clap her hands at him, and say, _He should get nothing by it;_ whereupon he several times lost his Cattle, by strange Deaths, whereof no natural causes could be given. V. _John Rogger_ also testifyed, That upon the threatning words of this malicious _Carrier_, his Cattle would be strangely bewitched; as was more particularly then described. VI. _Samuel Preston_ testify'd, that about two years ago, having some difference with _Martha Carrier_, he lost a _Cow_ in a strange Preternatural unusual manner; and about a month after this, the said _Carrier_, having again some difference with him, she told him; _He had lately lost a Cow, and it should not be long before he lost another;_ which accordingly came to pass; for he had a thriving and well-kept _Cow_, which without any known cause quickly fell down and dy'd. VII. _Phebe Chandler_ testify'd, that about a Fortnight before the apprehension of _Martha Carrier_, on a Lords-day, while the Psalm was singing in the _Church_, this _Carrier_ then took her by the shoulder and shaking her, asked her, _where she lived_: she made her no Answer, although as _Carrier_, who lived next door to her Fathers House, could not in reason but know who she was. Quickly after this, as she was at several times crossing the Fields, she heard a voice, that she took to be _Martha Carriers_, and it seem'd as if it was over her head. The voice told her, _she should within two or three days be poisoned._ Accordingly, within such a little time, one half of her right hand, became greatly swollen, and very painful; as also part of her Face; whereof she can give no account how it came. It continued very bad for some dayes; and several times since, she has had a great pain in her breast; and been so siezed on her leggs, that she has hardly been able to go. She added, that lately, going well to the House of God, _Richard_, the son of _Martha Carrier_, look'd very earnestly upon her, and immediately her hand, which had formerly been poisoned, as is abovesaid, began to pain her greatly, and she had a strange Burning at her stomach; but was then struck deaf, so that she could not hear any of the prayer, or singing, till the two or three last words of the Psalm. VIII. One _Foster_, who confessed her own share in the Witchcraft for which the Prisoner stood indicted, affirm'd, that she had seen the prisoner at some of their _Witch-meetings_, and that it was this _Carrier_, who perswaded her to be a Witch. She confessed, that the Devil carry'd them on a pole, to a Witch-meeting; but the pole broke, and she hanging about _Carriers_ neck, they both fell down, and she then received an hurt by the Fall, whereof she was not at this very time recovered. IX. One _Lacy_, who likewise confessed her share in this Witchcraft, now testify'd, that she and the prisoner were once Bodily present at a _Witch-meeting_ in _Salem Village_; and that she knew the prisoner to be a Witch, and to have been at a Diabolical sacrament, and that the prisoner was the undoing of her, and her Children, by enticing them into the snare of the Devil. X. Another _Lacy_, who also confessed her share in this Witchcraft, now testify'd, that the prisoner was at the _Witch-meeting_, in _Salem Village_, where they had Bread and Wine Administred unto them. XI. In the time of this prisoners Trial, one _Susanna Sheldon_, in open Court had her hands Unaccountably ty'd together with a Wheel-band, so fast that without cutting, it could not be loosed: It was done by a _Spectre_; and the Sufferer affirm'd, it was the _Prisoners_. * * * * * _Memorandum._ This Rampant Hag, _Martha Carrier_, was the person, of whom the Confessions of the Witches, and of her own Children among the rest, agreed, That the Devil had promised her, she should be _Queen of Heb_. Having thus far done the Service imposed upon me; I will further pursue it, by relating a few of those Matchless CURIOSITIES, with which the _Witchcraft_ now upon us, has entertained us. And I shall Report nothing but with Good Authority, and what I would invite all my Readers to examine, while 'tis yet Fresh and New, that if there be found any mistake, it may be as willingly _Retracted_, as it was unwillingly _Committed_. THE FIRST CURIOSITIE. I. 'Tis very Remarkable to see what an Impious and Impudent _imitation_ of Divine Things, is Apishly affected by the Devil, in several of those matters, whereof the Confessions of our _Witches_, and the Afflictions of our _Sufferers_ have informed us. That Reverend and Excellent Person, Mr. _John Higginson_, in my Conversation with him, Once invited me to this Reflection; that the Indians which came from far to settle about _Mexico_, were in their Progress to that Settlement, under a Conduct of the _Devil_, very strangely Emulating what the Blessed God gave to _Israel_ in the Wilderness. _Acosta_, is our Author for it, that the Devil in their Idol _Vitzlipultzli_, governed that mighty Nation. 'He commanded them to leave their Country, promising to make them _Lords_ over all the Provinces possessed by _Six_ other Nations of Indians, and give them a Land abounding with all precious things. They went forth, carrying their Idol with them, in a Coffer of _Reeds_, supported by Four of their Principal _Priests_; with whom he still _Discoursed_ in secret, Revealing to them the Successes, and Accidents of their way. He advised them, when to _March_, and where to _Stay_, and without his Commandment they moved not. The first thing they did, where-ever they came, was to Erect a _Tabernacle_, for their false god; which they set always in the midst of their Camp, and they placed the _Ark_ upon an _Alter_. When they, Tired with pains, talked of, _proceeding no further_ in their Journey, than a certain pleasant Stage, whereto they were arrived, this Devil in one Night, horribly kill'd them that had started this Talk, by pulling out their Hearts. And so they passed on till they came to _Mexico_.' The Devil which _then_ thus imitated what was in the Church of the _Old Testament_, now among _Us_ would Imitate the Affairs of the Church in the _New_. The _Witches_ do say, that they form themselves much after the manner of _Congregational Churches_; and that they have a _Baptism_ and a _Supper_, and _Officers_ among them, abominably Resembling those of our Lord. But there are many more of these Bloody _Imitations_, if the Confessions of the _Witches_ are to be Received; which I confess, ought to be but with very much Caution. What is their stricking down with a fierce _Look_? What is their making of the Afflicted _Rise_, with a touch of their _Hand_? What is their Transportation thro' the _Air_? What is their Travelling _in Spirit_, while their Body is cast into a Trance? What is their causing of _Cattle_ to run mad and perish? What is their Entring their Names in a _Book_? What is their coming together from all parts, at the Sound of a _Trumpet_? What is their Appearing sometimes Cloathed with _Light_ or _Fire_ upon them? What is their Covering of themselves and their Instruments with _Invisibility_? But a Blasphemous Imitation of certain Things recorded about our Saviour or His Prophets, or the Saints in the Kingdom of God. A SECOND CURIOSITIE. II. In all the _Witchcraft_ which now Grievously Vexes us, I know not whether anything be more Unaccountable, than the Trick which the Witches have to render themselves, and their Tools _Invisible_. _Witchcraft_ seems to be the Skill of Applying the _Plastic Spirit_ of the World, unto some unlawful purposes, by means of a Confederacy with _Evil Spirits_. Yet one would wonder how the _Evil Spirits_ themselves can do some things; especially at _Invisibilizing_ of the Grossest Bodies. I can tell the Name of an Ancient Author, who pretends to show the _way_, how a man may come to walk about _Invisible_, and I can tell the Name of another Ancient Author, who pretends to Explode that way. But I will not speak too plainly Lest I should unawares Poison some of my _Readers_, as the pious _Hemingius_ did one of his _Pupils_, when he only by way of Diversion recited a _Spell_, which, they had said, would cure _Agues_. This much I will say; The notion of procuring _Invisibility_, by any _Natural Expedient_, yet known, is, I Believe, a meer PLINYISM; How far it may be obtained by a _Magical Sacrament_, is best known to the Dangerous Knaves that have try'd it. But our _Witches_ do seem to have got the knack: and this is one of the Things, that make me think, _Witchcraft_ will not be fully understood, until the day when there shall not be one Witch in the World. There are certain people very _Dogmatical_ about these matters; but I'll give them only these three Bones to pick. First, One of our bewitched people, was cruelly assaulted by a _Spectre_, that, she said, ran at her with a _spindle_: tho' no body else in the Room, could see either the _Spectre_ or the _spindle_. At last, in her miseries, giving a snatch at the _Spectre_, she pull'd the _spindle_ away, and it was no sooner got into her hand, but the other people then present, beheld, that it was indeed a Real, Proper, Iron _spindle_, belonging they knew to whom; which when they lock'd up very safe, it was nevertheless by _Demons_ unaccountably stole away, to do further mischief. Secondly, Another of our bewitched people, was haunted with a most abusive _Spectre_, which came to her, she said, with a _sheet_ about her. After she had undergone a deal of Teaze, from the Annoyance of the _Spectre_, she gave a violent snatch at the sheet, that was upon it; wherefrom she tore a corner, which in her hand immediately became _Visible_ to a Roomful of Spectators; a palpable Corner of a Sheet. Her Father, who was now holding her, catch'd that he might keep what his Daughter had so strangely siezed, but the unseen _Spectre_ had like to have pull'd his hand off, by endeavouring to wrest it from him; however he still held it, and I suppose has it, still to show; it being but a few hours ago, namely about the beginning of this _October_, that this Accident happened; in the family of one _Pitman_, at _Manchester_. Thirdly, A young man, delaying to procure Testimonials for his Parents, who being under confinement on suspicion of _Witchcraft_, required him to do that service for them, was quickly pursued with odd Inconveniences. But once above the Rest, an Officer going to put his _Brand_ on the Horns of some _Cows_, belonging to these people, which tho' he had siez'd for some of their debts, yet he was willing to leave in their possession, for the subsistance of the poor Family; this young man help'd in holding the Cows to be thus branded. The three first _Cows_ he held well enough; but when the hot Brand was clap'd upon the Fourth, he _winc'd_ and _shrunk_ at such a Rate, as that he could hold the Cow no longer. Being afterwards Examined about it, he confessed, that at that very instant when the _Brand_ entered the _Cow's Horn_, exactly the like burning _Brand_ was clap'd upon his own Thigh; where he has exposed the lasting marks of it, unto such as asked to see them. Unriddle these Things,--_Et Eris mihi magnus Apollo._ A THIRD CURIOSITIE. III. If a Drop of _Innocent Blood_ should be shed, in the Prosecution of the _Witchcrafts_ among us, how unhappy are we! For which cause, I cannot express my self in better terms, than those of a most Worthy Person, who lives near the present Center of these things. _The Mind of +God+ in these matters, is to be carefully lookt into, with due Circumspection, that Satan deceive us not with his Devices, who transforms himself into an Angel of Light, and may pretend justice and yet intend mischief._ But on the other side, if the storm of Justice do now fall only on the Heads of those guilty _Witches_ and _Wretches_ which have defiled our Land, _How Happy!_ The Execution of some that have lately Dyed, has been immediately attended, with a strange Deliverance of some, that had lain for many years, in a most sad Condition, under, they knew not whose _evil hands_. As I am abundantly satisfy'd, That many of the Self-Murders committed here, have been the effects of a Cruel and Bloody _Witchcraft_, letting fly _Demons_ upon the miserable _Seneca's_; thus, it has been admirable unto me to see, how a Devilish _Witchcraft_, sending Devils upon them, has driven many poor people to _Despair_, and persecuted their minds, with such Buzzes of _Atheism_ and _Blasphemy_, as has made them even run _distracted with Terrors_: And some long _Bow'd down_ under such a _spirit of Infirmity_, have been marvelously Recovered upon the death of the Witches. One _Whetford_ particularly ten years ago, challenging of _Bridget Bishop_ (whose Trial you have had) with steeling of a Spoon, _Bishop_ threatned her very direfully: presently after this, was _Whetford_ in the Night, and in her Bed, visited by _Bishop_, with one _Parker_, who making the Room light at their coming in, there discoursed of several mischiefs they would inflict upon her. At last they pull'd her out, and carried her unto the Sea-side, there to _drown_, her; but she calling upon God, they left her, tho' not without Expressions of their Fury. From that very time, this poor _Whetford_ was utterly spoilt, and grew a Tempted, Froward, Crazed sort of a Woman; a vexation to her self, and all about her; and many ways unreasonable. In this Distraction she lay, till those women were Apprehended, by the Authority; _then_ she began to mend; and upon their Execution, was presently and perfectly Recovered, from the ten years madness that had been upon her. A FOURTH CURIOSITIE. IV. 'Tis a thousand pitties, that we should permit our Eyes, to be so _Blood-shot_ with passions, as to loose the sight of many wonderful things, wherein the Wisdom and Justice of God, would be Glorify'd. Some of those things, are the frequent \Apparitions\ of Ghosts, whereby many Old \Murders\ among us, come to be considered. And, among many instances of this kind, I will single out one, which concerned a poor man, lately _Prest_ unto Death, because of his Refusing to _Plead_ for his Life. I shall make an Extract of a Letter, which was written to my Honourable Friend, _Samuel Sewal_, Esq.; by Mr. _Putman_, to this purpose; 'The Last Night my Daughter _Ann_, was grievously Tormented by Witches, Threatning that she should be _Pressed_ to Death, before _Giles Cory_. But thro' the Goodness of a Gracious God, she had at last a little Respite. Whereupon there appeared unto her (she said) a man in a Winding Sheet, who told her that _Giles Cory_ had Murdered him, by _Pressing_ him to Death with his Feet; but that the Devil there appeared unto him, and Covenanted with him, and promised him, _He should not be Hanged._ The Apparition said, God Hardned his heart; that he should not hearken to the Advice of the Court, and so Dy an easy Death; because as it said, _It must be done to him as he has done to me._ The Apparition also said, That _Giles Cory_, was carry'd to the Court for this, and that the Jury had found the Murder, and that her Father knew the man, and the thing was done before she was born. Now Sir, This is not a little strange to us; that no body should Remember these things, all the while that _Giles Cory_ was in Prison, and so often before the Court. For all people now Remember very well, (and the Records of the Court also mention it,) That about Seventeen Years ago, _Giles Cory_ kept a man in his House, that was almost a Natural Fool: which Man Dy'd suddenly. A Jury was impannel'd upon him, among whom was Dr. _Zorobbabel Endicot_; who found the man bruised to Death, and having clodders of Blood about his Heart. The Jury, whereof several are yet alive brought in the man Murdered; but as if some Enchantment had hindred the Prosecution of the Matter, the Court Proceeded not against _Giles Cory_, tho' it cost him a great deal of Mony to get off.' Thus the Story. _The Reverend and Worthy Author, having at the Direction of His EXCELLENCY the Governour, so far Obliged the Publick, as to give some Account of the Sufferings brought upon the Countrey by +Witchcraft+; and of the Tryals which have passed upon several Executed for the Same:_ _Upon Perusal thereof, We find the Matters of Fact and Evidence, Truly reported. And a Prospect given, of the +Methods of Conviction+, used in the Proceedings of the Court at +Salem+_ Boston Octob. 11. William Stoughton 1692. Samuel Sewall. But is _New-England_, the only Christian Countrey, that hath undergone such Diabolical Molestations? No, there are other Good people, that have in this way been harassed; but none in circumstances more like to _Ours_, than the people of God, in _Sweedland_. The story is a very Famous one; and it comes to Speak English by the Acute Pen of the Excellent and Renowned Dr. _Horneck_. I shall only single out a few of the more Memorable passages therein Occurring; and where it agrees with what happened among ourselves, my Reader shall understand, by my inserting a Word of every such thing in \Black Letter\. I. It was in the Year 1669. and 1670. That at _Mohra_ in _Sweedland_, the \Devils\ by the help of \Witches\, committed a most horrible outrage. Among other Instances of Hellish Tyranny there exercised. One was, that Hundreds of their Children, were usually in the Night fetcht from their Lodgings, to a Diabolical Rendezvouz, at a place they called, _Blockula_, where the Monsters that so Spirited them, \Tempted\ them all manner of Ways to \Associate\ with them. Yea, such was the perillous Growth of this _Witchcraft_, that Persons of Quality began to send their Children into other Countries to avoid it. II. The Inhabitants had earnestly sought God by \Prayer\; and \Yet\ their Affliction \Continued\. Whereupon \Judges\ had a Special \Commission\ to find and root out the Hellish Crew; and the rather, because another County in the Kingdom, which had been so molested, was delivered upon the Execution of the _Witches_. III. The \Examination\, was begun with a Day of \Humiliation\; appointed by Authority. Whereupon the Commissioners \Consulting\, how they might resist such a Dangerous Flood, the \Suffering Children\, were first Examined; and tho' they were Questioned \One\ by \One\ apart, yet their \Declarations All Agreed\. The \Witches\ Accus'd in these Declarations, were then Examined; and tho' at first they obstinately \Denied\, yet at length many of them ingeniously \Confessed\ the Truth of what the children had said; owning with Tears, that the \Devil\, whom they call'd _Locyta_, had \Stopt\ their \Mouths\; but he being now \Gone\ from them, they could \No Longer Conceal\ the Business. The things by them \Acknowledged\, most wonderfully \Agreed\ with what other Witches, in other places had confessed. IV. They confessed, that they did use to \Call upon\ the \Devil\, who thereupon would \Carry\ them away, over the Tops of Houses, to a Green Meadow, where they gave themselves unto him. Only one of them said, That sometimes the _Devil_ only took away her \Strength\, leaving her \Body\ on the ground; but she went at other times in \Body\ too. V. Their manner was to come into the \Chambers\ of people, and fetch away their children upon Beasts, of the Devils providing: promising \Fine Cloaths\ and other Fine Things unto them, to inveagle them. They said, they never had power to do thus, till of late; but now the Devil did \Plague\ and \Beat\ them, if they did not gratifie him, in this piece of Mischief. They said, they made use of all sorts of \Instruments\ in their Journeys! Of \Men\, of \Beasts\, of \Posts\; the _Men_ they commonly laid asleep at the place, whereto they rode them; and if the children mentioned the \Names\ of them that stole them away, they were miserably \Scurged\ for it, until some of them were killed. The \Judges\ found the marks of the Lashes on some of them; but the Witches said, \They would Quickly vanish\. Moreover the Children would be in \strange Fits\, after they were brought Home from these Transportations. VI. The \First Thing\, they said, they were to do at _Blockula_, was to give themselves unto the Devil, and \Vow\ that they would serve him. Hereupon, they \cut their Fingers\, and with \Blood\ writ their \Names\ in his \Book\. And he also caused them to be \Baptised\ by such \Priests\, as he had, in this Horrid company. In \some\ of them, the \Mark\ of the \cut Finger\ was to be found; they said, that the Devil gave \Meat\ and \Drink\, as to _Them_, so to the Children they brought with them: that afterwards their Custom was to _Dance_ before him; and _swear_ and _curse_ most horribly; they said, that the Devil show'd them a great, Frightful, Cruel _Dragon_, telling them, \If they confessed any Thing\, he would let loose that Great Devil upon them; they added, that the Devil had a \Church\, and that when the \Judges\ were coming, he told them, \he would kill them all\; and that some of them had \Attempted to Murder the Judges\, but \could not\. VII. Some of the \Children\, talked much of a \White Angel\, which did use to \Forbid\ them, what the Devil had bid them to do, and \Assure\ them that these doings would \Not last long\; but that what had been done was permitted for the wickedness of the People. This \White Angel\, would sometimes rescue the Children, from \Going in\, with the Witches. VIII. The Witches confessed many mischiefs done by them, declaring with what kind of \Enchanted Tools\, they did their Mischiefs. They sought especially to \kill the Minister\ of _Elfdale_, but could not. But some of them said, that such as they wounded, would \Be recovered\, upon or before their Execution. IX. The \Judges\ would fain have seen them show some of their \Tricks\; but they Unanimously declared, that, \Since they had confessed\, all, they found all their \Witchcraft\ gone; and the Devil then Appeared very Terrible unto them, threatning with an \Iron Fork\, to thrust them into a Burning Pit, if they persisted in their Confession. X. There were discovered no less than _threescore and ten_ Witches in One Village, \three and twenty\ of which \freely confessing\ their Crimes, were condemned to dy. The rest, (\One\ pretending she was with Child) were sent to _Fahluna_, where most of them were afterwards executed. Fifteen Children, which confessed themselves engaged in this Witchery, dyed as the rest. Six and Thirty of them between _nine_ and _sixteen_ years of Age, who had been less guilty, were forced to run the Gantlet, and be lashed on their hands once a Week, for a year together; twenty more who had less inclination to these Infernal enterprises, were lashed with Rods upon their Hands for three Sundays together, at the Church door; the number of the seduced Children, was about three hundred. This course, together with \Prayers\, in all the Churches thro' the Kingdom, issued in the deliverance of the Country. XI. The most Accomplished Dr. _Horneck_ inserts a most wise caution, in his preface to this Narrative, says he, _there is no Public Calamity, but some ill people, will serve themselves of the sad providence, and make use of it for their own ends; as +Thieves+ when an house or town is on fire, will steal what they can._ And he mentions a Remarkable Story of a young Woman, at _Stockholm_, in the year 1676, Who accused her own Mother of being a Witch; and swore positively, that she had carried her away in the Night; the poor Woman was burnt upon it: professing her innocency to the last. But tho' she had been an Ill Woman, yet it afterwards prov'd that she was not _such_ an one; for her Daughter came to the Judges, with hideous Lamentations, Confessing, That she had wronged her Mother, out of a wicked spite against her; whereupon the Judges gave order for her Execution too. But, so much of these things; And, now, _Lord, make these Labours of thy Servant, Profitable to thy People._ MATTER OMITTED IN THE TRIALS. Nineteen Witches have been Executed at _New-England_, one of them was a Minister, and two Ministers more are Accus'd. There is a hundred Witches more in Prison, which broke Prison, and about two Hundred more are Accus'd, some Men of great Estates in _Boston_, have been accus'd for _Witchcraft_. Those Hundred now in Prison accus'd for Witches, were Committed by fifty of themselves being _Witches_, some of _Boston_, but most about _Salem_, and the Towns Adjacent. Mr. _Increase Mather_ has Published a Book about _Witchcraft_, occasioned by the late Trials of Witches, which will be speedily printed in _London_ by _John Dunton_. THE DEVIL DISCOVERED. 2 Cor. II. 11. _We are not Ignorant of His DEVICES._ Our Blessed Saviour has blessed us, with a counsil, as Wholsome and as Needful as any that can be given us, in _Math. 26.41._ _Watch and Pray, that yee Enter not into Temptation._ As there is a Tempting _Flesh_, and a Tempting _World_, which would seduce us from Our Obedience to the Laws of God, so there is a Busy _Devil_, who is by way of Eminency called, _The Tempter_; because by him, the Temptations of the _Flesh_ and the _World_ are managed. It is not _One Devil_ alone, that has Cunning or Power enough to apply the Multitudes of _Temptations_, whereby Mankind is daily diverted from the Service of God; No, the _High Places_ of Our Air, are Swarming full of those _Wicked Spirits_, whose Temptations trouble us; they are so many, that it seems no less than a _Legion_, or more than twelve thousands may be spared, for the Vexation of one miserable man. But because those Apostate Angels, are all _United_, under one Infernal Monarch, in the Designs of Mischief, 'tis in the Singular Number, that they are spoken of. Now, the _Devil_, whose Malice and Envy, prompts him to do what he can, that we may be as unhappy as himself, do's ordinarily use more _Fraud_, than _Force_, in his assaulting of us; he that assail'd our First Parents, in a _Serpent_, will still _Act Like a Serpent_, rather than a _Lion_, in prosecuting of his wicked purposes upon us, and for us to guard against the _Wiles_ of the _Wicked One_, is one of the greatest cares, with which our God ha's charged us. We are all of us liable to various _Temptations_ every day, whereby if we are carried aside from the strait _Paths of Righteousness_, we get all sorts of wounds unto our selves. Of _Temptations_, I may say, as the Wise Man said, of _Mortality_; _there is no discharge from that war._ The _Devils_ fell hard upon both _Adams_, nor may any among the Children of both, imagine to be excused. The _Son_ of God Himself, had this _Dog_ of Hell, barking at Him; and much more may the Children of _Men_, look to be thus Visited; indeed, there is hardly any _Temptation_, but what is, _Common to Man_. When I was considering, how to spend one Hour in Raising a most Effectual and Profitable _Breast-work_, against the inroads of this Enemy, I perceived it would be done, by a short answer to this. CASE. _What are those Usual +Methods+ of +Temptation+, with which the Powers of Darkness do assault the Children of Men?_ The _Corinthians_, having upon the Apostles Direction, Excommunicated one of their Society, who had married his Mother-in-law, & this, as it is thought, while his own Father was Living too; the Apostle encourages them to Re-admit that man, upon his very deep and sharp _Repentance_. He gives divers Reasons of his propounding this unto them; whereof one is, _Lest Satan should get advantage of them_; for, had the man miscarried, under any Rigour of the Sentence continued upon him, after his _Repentance_, 'tis well if the Church itself had not quickly fallen to pieces thereupon; besure, the Success of the Gospel had been more than a little Incommoded. The Apostle upon this Occasion, intimates, That _Satan_ has his _Devices_; by which word are meant, Artifices or Contrivances used for the _Deceiving_ of those that are Treated with them well, But what shall _we do_ that we may come to this _Corinthian Attainment_, _We are not Ignorant of Satan's Devices?_ [_Non cuivis homini Contingit!_] Truly, the Devil has _Mille Nocendi Artes_; and it will be impossible for us, to run over all the _Stratagems_ and _Policies_ of our Adversary. I shall only attempt a few Observations upon the _Temptations_ of our Lord Jesus Christ: who was _Tempted in all things like unto us, except in our Sins_. When we read the _Temptations_ of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the Fourth Chapter of _Matthew_ There, Thence, you will understand, what was once counted so difficult; Even, _The way of a Serpent upon the Rock_. There are certain Ancient and Famous _Methods_ which the Devil in his _Temptations_, does mostly accustome himself unto; which is not so much from any Barrenness, or Sluggishness in the Devil, but because he has had the Encouragement of a, _Probatum est_, upon those horrid Methods. How did the Devil assault the First _Adam_? It was with Temptations drawn from _Pleasure_, and _Profit_, and _Honour_, which, as the Apostle notes, in _1 Joh. 2.16._ are, _All that is in the World_. With the very same temptations it was, that he fell upon the Second _Adam_ too. Now, in those _Temptations_, you will see the more _Usual Methods_, whereby the _Devil_ would be Ensnaring of us; and I beseech you to attend unto the following Admonitions, as those _Warnings_ of God, which the Lives of your souls depend upon your taking of. There were especially Three _Remarkable_ Assaults of _Temptations_, which the _Devil_ it seems, visibly made upon our Lord; after he had been more invisibly for Forty dayes together _Tempting_ of that Holy One; and we may make a few distinct _Remarks_ upon them all. § The first of our Lords three Temptations is thus related, in _Mat. 4.3._ _He was an Hungry; and when the Tempter came to him, he said, If thou be the Son of God, Command that these Stones be made Bread._ From whence, take these _Remarks_. I. The Devil will ordinarily make our _Conditions_, to be the Advantages of his _Temptations_. When our Lord was _Hungry_, then _Bread! Bread!_ shall be all the Cry of his Temptation; the Devil puts him upon a wrong step, for the getting of _Bread_. There is no Condition, but what has indeed some _Hunger_ accompanying of it; and the Devil marks what it is, that we are _Hungry_ for. One mans Condition makes him _Hunger_ for Preferments, or Employments, another mans makes him _Hunger_ for Cash or Land, or Trade; another mans makes him _Hunger_ for Merriments, or Diversions: And the Condition of every Afflicted Man, makes him _Hunger_ with Impatience for Deliverance. Now the Devil will be sure to suit his Perswasions with our _Conditions_. When he has our _Condition_ to speak with him, & for him, then thinks he, _I am sure this man will now hearken to my Proposals!_ Hence, if men are in _Prosperity_, the Devil will tempt them to Forgetfulness of God; if they are in _Adversity_, he will tempt them to Murmuring at God; in all the expressions of those impieties. Wise _Agur_ was aware of this; in _Prov. 30.9._ says he, if a man be _Full_, he shall be tempted, _to deny God, and say, who is the Lord?_ if a man be Poor, he shall be tempted, _to steal, and take the Name of God in vain._ The Devil will talk suitably; if you ponder your Conditions, you may expect you shall be tempted agreeably thereunto. II. The Devil does often manage his _temptations_, by urging of our _Necessities_. Our Lord, was thus by the Devil bawl'd upon; _You want Bread, and you'll starve, if in my way you get it not._ The Devil will show some forbidden thing unto us, and plead concerning it, as of _Bread_ we use to say, _it must be had._ _Necessity_ has a wonderful compulsion in it. You may see what _Necessity_ will do, if you read in _Deut. 28.56._ _the tender and the delicate Woman among you, her eye shall be evil towards the Children that she shall bear, for she shall eat them for want of all things._ The Devil will perswade us that there is a _Necessity_ of our doing what he does propound unto us; and then tho' the _Laws_ of God about us were so many _Walls_ of Stone, yet we shall break through them all. That little inconvenience, of our coming to beg our _Bread_, O what a fearful Representation does the Devil make of it! and when once the Devil scares us to think of a sinful thing, _it must be done_, we soon come to think, _it may be done_. When the Devil has frighted us into an Apprehension, that it is a _Needful_ thing which we are prompted unto, he presently Engages all the Faculties of our Souls, to prove, that it may be a _Lawful_ one; the Devil told _Esau_, _You'll dye if you don't sell your Birthright;_ the Devil told _Aaron_, _You'll pull all the people about your ears, if you do not countenance their superstitions;_ and then they comply'd immediately. Yea, sometimes if the Devil do but Feign a Necessity, he does thereby _Gain_ the Hearts of Men; he did but feign a Need, when he told _Saul_, _the Cattel must be spared, and the sacrifice must be precipitated_, & he does but feign a Need, when he tells many a man, _if you do no servile work on the +Sabbath-day+, and if you don't Rob God of his evening, you'll never subsist in the world._ All the denials of God, in the world, use to be from this Fallacy impos'd upon us. It never can be necessary for us to violate any Negative Commandment in the Law of our God; where God says, _thou shalt not_, we cannot upon any pretence reply, I _must_. But the Devil will put a most formidable and astonishing face of necessity upon many of those _Abominable things, which are hateful to the soul of God_. He'll say nothing to us about, the one thing needful; but the petite and the sorry _Need-nots_ of this world, he'll set off with most bloody Colours of _Necessity_. He will not say, _'tis necessary for you to maintain the Favour of your God, and secure the +welfare of your Soul+;_ but he'll say, _'tis necessary for you to keep in with your Neighbours; and that you and yours may have a good Living among them._ III. The Devil does insinuate his most Horrible _Temptations_, with pretence, of much _Friendship_ and _Kindness_ for us. He seemed very unwilling that our Lord should want any thing that might be comfortable for him; but, he was a _Devil_ still! The _Devil_ flatters our Mother _Eve_, as if he was desirous to make her more Happy than her Maker did; but there was the _Devil_ in that flattery. _Sub Amici fallere Nomen_,----to Salute men with profers to do all manner of Service for them; and at the same time to Stab them as _Joab_ did _Abner_ of old; this is just like the _Devil_, and the _Devil_ truly has many Children that Imitate him in it. Some very Affectionate Things were spoken once unto our Lord; _Lord, be it far from thee, that thou shouldest suffer any Trouble!_ But our Lords Answer was, in _Mat. 16.23._ _Get thee behind me Satan._ The Devil will say to a man, _I would have thee to Consult thy own Interest, and I would have Trouble to be far from thee._ He speaks these _Fair Things_, by the Mouths of our professed Friends unto us, as he did by the Tongue of a Speckled Snake unto our Deluded Parents at the first. But all this while, 'tis a Direction that has been wisely given us; _When he speaks fair, Believe him not, for there are seven Abominations in his Heart._ IV. Things in themselves _Allowable_ and _Convenient_, are oftentimes turned into sore _Temptations_ by the Devil. He press'd our Lord unto the making of _Bread_; Why, that very thing was afterwards done by our Lord, in the Miracles of the _Loaves_; and yet it is now a motion of the _Devil_, _Pray, make thy self a Little Bread._ The Devil will frequently put men by, from the doing of a _seasonable Duty_; but how? Truly by putting us upon another _Duty_, which may be at that juncture a most _Unseasonable_ Thing. It is said in _Eccl. 8.5._ _A Wise Mans heart discerns both Time and Judgment._ The _Ill-Timing_ of good Things, is One of the chief Intregues, which the Devil has to Prosecute. The Devil himself, will Egg us on to many a _Duty_; and why so? But because at that very Time a more proper and Useful Duty, will have a _Supersedeas_ given thereunto. And, thus there are many Things, whereof we can say, though no more than this, yet so much as this, _They are Lawful ones_, by which Lawful Things----_Perimus Omnes._ Where shall we find that the Devil has laid our most fatal Snares? Truly, our Snares are on the _Bed_, where it is _Lawful_ for us to Sleep; at the _Board_, where it is _Lawful_ for us to Sit; in the _Cup_, where 'tis _Lawful_ to Drink; and in the _Shops_, where we have _Lawful_ Business to do. The _Devil_ will decoy us, unto the utmost Edge of the _Liberty_ that is _Lawful_ for us; and then one Little push, hurries us into a Transgression against the Lord. And the _Devil_ by Inviting us to a _Lawful_ thing, at a wrong time for it, Layes us under further Entanglement of Guilt before God. 'Tis _Lawful_ for People to use Recreations; but in the Evening of the Lords Day, or the Morning of any Day, how Ensnaring are they! The _Devil_ then too commonly bears part in the Sport. If _Promiscuous Dancing_ were Lawful; though almost all the Christian Churches in the World, have made a Scandal of it; yet for Persons to go presently from a _Sermon_ to a _Dance_, is to do a thing, which Doubtless the _Devil_ makes good Earnings of. V. To _distrust_ Gods Providence and Protection, is one of the worst things, into which the Devil by his _Temptations_ would be hurrying of us. He would fain have driven our Lord unto a Suspicion of Gods care about Him, said the Devil, _You may dy for lack of Bread, if you do not look better after your self, than God is like to do for you._ It is an usual thing for Persons to dispair of Gods _Fatherly Care_ Concerning them; they torture themselves with distracting and amazing Fears, that they shall come to want before they dy; Yea, they even say with _Jonas_, in _Chap. 2.4._ _I am cast out of the sight of God;_ He wont look after me! But it is the Devil that is the Author of all such Melancholly Suggestions in the minds of men. It is a thought that often raises a Feaver in the Hearts of _Married_ Persons, when Charges grow upon them; _God will never be able in the way of my Calling, to feed and cloath all my Little Folks._ It is a Thought with which _Aged_ persons are often tormented, _Tho' God has all my dayes hitherto supplied me, yet I shall be pinched with Straits before I come to my Journeys end._ 'Tis a malicious Devil that raises these _Evil surmisings_ in the hearts of Men. And sometimes a distemper of Body affords a Lodging for the Devil, from whence he shoots the cruel Bombs of such _Fiery Thoughts_ into the minds of many other persons. With such thoughts does the Devil choose to persecute us; because thereby we come to _Forfeit_ what we _Question_. We _Question_ the Care of God, and so we _Forfeit_ it, until perhaps the Devil do utterly _drown us in Perdition_. Our God says, _Trust in the Lord, and do good, and verily thou shall be fed._ But the Devil says, _don't you trust in God; be afraid that you shall not be fed;_ and thus he hinders men from the _doing of Good_. VI. There is nothing more Frequent in the _Temptations_ of the Devil, then for our _Adoption_ to be doubted, because of our _Affliction_. When our Lord was in his Penury, then says the Devil, _If thou be the Son of God;_ he now makes an _If_, of it; _What? the Son of God, and not be able to Command a Bit of Bread!_ Thus, when we are in very Afflictive Circumstances, this will be the Devils Inference, _Thou art not a Child of God._ The Bible says in _Heb. 12.7._ _If you are Chastened, it is a shrow'd sign that you can't be Children._ Since he can't Rob us of our _Grace_, he would Rob us of our _Joy_; and therefore having Accused us unto God, he then Accuses God unto us. When _Israel_ was weak and faint in the Wilderness, then did _Amalek_ set upon them; just so does the Devil set upon the people of God, when their Losses, their Crosses, their Exercises have Enfeebled their Souls within them; and what says the Devil? E'en the same that was mutter'd in the Ear of the Afflicted _Job_, _Is not this the Uprightness of thy Ways? Remember, I pray thee, who ever perished, being Innocent? If thou wert a Child of God, He would never follow thee, with such Testimonies of his Indignation._ This is the _Logic_ of the Devil; and he thus interrupts that patience, and that Chearfulness wherewith we should _suffer the will of God_. VII. To dispute the Divine Original and Authority of _Gods Word_, is not the least of those _Temptations_ with which the Devil troubles us. God from Heaven, had newly said unto our Lord, _this is my Beloved Son_; but now the Devil would have him to make a dispute of it, _If thou be the son of God._ The Devil durst not be so Impudent, and Brasen fac'd, as to bid men use _Pharaohs_ Language, _Who is the Lord, that I should obey his voice?_ But he will whisper into our Ears, what he did unto our Mother _Eve_ of old, _It is not the Lord that hath spoken what you call his Word._ The Devil would have men say unto the _Scripture_, what they said unto the _Prophet_, in _Jer. 43.2._ _Thou speakest falsely; the Lord our God hath not sent thee to speak what thou sayst unto us;_ & he would fain have secret & cursed Misgivings in our hearts, _that things are not altogether so as the Scripture has represented them._ The Devil would with all his heart make one huge Bonefire of all the Bibles in the world; & he has got Millions of persecutors to _assist him in the suppression of that miraculous book_. _It was the +devil+ once in the tongue of a Papist_, that cry'd out, _A plague on this bible; this 'tis that does all our mischief._ But because he can't _Suppress_ this Book, he sets himself, to _Disgrace_ it all that he can. Altho' the Scripture carries its _own Evidence_ with it, and be all over, so pure, so great, so true, and so powerful, that it is impossible it should proceed from any but God alone; yet the Devil would gladly bring some Discredit upon it, as if it were but some _Humane Contrivance_; Of nothing, is the Devil more desirous, than this; That we should not count, _Christ_ so precious, _Heaven_ so Glorious, _Hell_ so Dreadful, and _Sin_ so odious, as the Scripture has declared it. §. The Second of our Lords Three Temptations, is related after this manner, in _Mat. 4.5, 6._ _Then the Devil taketh him up, into the Holy City, and setteth him upon a Pinacle of the Temple; and saith unto him, if thou be the Son of God, cast thy self down; for it is written, He shall give his Angels charge concerning thee, and in their Hands, they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy Foot against a Stone._ From whence take these _Remarks_. I. The places of the greatest _Holiness_ will not secure us from Annoyance by the _Temptations_ of the Devil, to the greatest wickedness. When our Lord was in the Holy City, the Devil fell upon him there. Indeed, there is now no proper _Holiness_ of _Places_ in our Days; the Signs and Means of Gods more special Presence are not under the Gospel, ty'd unto any certain _places_: Nevertheless there are _places_, where we use to enjoy much of God; and where, altho' God visit not the _Persons_ for the sake of the _Places_, yet he visits the _Places_ for the sake of the _Persons_. But, I am to tell you that the Devil will visit those _Places_ and best _Persons_ there. No _Place_, that I know of, has got such a _Spell_ upon it, as will always keep the Devil out. The _Meeting-House_ wherein we Assemble for the Worship of God, is fill'd with many Holy People, and many Holy Concerns continually; but if our Eyes were so refined as the Servant of the Prophet had his of old, I suppose we should now see a Throng of _Devils_ in this very place. The Apostle has intimated, that Angels come in among us; there are Angels it seems that hark, how I _Preach_, and how you _Hear_, at this Hour. And our own sad Experience is enough to intimate, That the _Devils_ are likewise Rendevouzing here. It is Reported, in _Job 1.5._ _When the Sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, Satan came also among them._ When we are in our Church-Assemblies, O how many _Devils_, do you imagine, croud in among us! There is a _Devil_ that rocks one to Sleep, there is a _Devil_ that makes another to be thinking of, he scarce knows what himself; and there is a _Devil_, that makes another, to be pleasing himself with wanton and wicked Speculations. It is also possible, that we have our _Closets_, or our _Studies_, gloriously perfumed with Devotions every day; but alas, can we shut the Devil out of them? No, Let us go where we will, we shall still find a Devil nigh unto us. Only, when we come to Heaven, we shall be out of his reach for ever; _O thou foul Devil; we are going where thou canst not come!_ He was hissed out of _Paradise_, and shall never enter it any more. Yea, more than so, when the _New Jerusalem_ comes down into the _High Places_ of our Air, from whence the Devil shall then be banished, there shall be no Devil within the Walls of that Holy City. _Amen, Even so Lord Jesus, Come quickly._ II. Any other acknowledgments of the Lord Jesus Christ, will be permitted by the Temptations of the Devil, provided those Acknowledgments of him, which are _True_ and _Full_, may be thereby prevented. What was it, that the Devil hurried our Lord Jesus Christ unto the Top of the _Temple_ for? Surely it could not meerly be to find _Precipices_; any part of the Wilderness would have afforded _Them_. No, it was rather to have _Spectators_. And why so, Why, the carnal Jews had an Expectation among them; that _Elias_ was to fly from Heaven to the Temple; and the Devil seems willing, that our Lord should be cry'd up for _Elias_, among the giddy multitude; or any thing in the World, tho never so considerable otherwise, rather than to be received as the Christ of God. The Devil will allow his Followers to think very highly of the Lord Jesus Christ; O but he is very lothe to have them think, _All_. We read in _Col. 1.19._ _It has pleased the Father, that in Him there should all Fullness dwell._ But it is pleasing to the Devil that we deny something of the Immense _Fullness_, which is in our Lord. The Devil would confess to our Lord, _Thou art the Holy One of God!_ but then he claps in, _Thou art Jesus of Nazareth;_ which was to conceal our Lords being _Jesus of Bethlehem_, and so his being, _The True Messiah_. All the _Heresies_, and all the Persecutions, that ever plagued the Church of God, have still been, to strike at some _Glory_ of our Lord Jesus Christ. A CHRIST Entirely Acknowledged, will save the Souls of them that so Acknowledge Him; but, says the Devil, _Whatever tides I must not give way to that._ As they say, the Devil makes Witches unable to utter all the _Lords Prayer_, or some such System of Religion, without some Deprevations of it; thus the Devil will consent that we may make a very large Confession of the Lord Jesus Christ; only he will have us to deprave it, at least in some one Important Article. Some one Honour, some one Office, and some one _Ordinance_ of the Lord Jesus Christ, must be always left unacknowledged, by those that will do as the Devil would have them. III. _High Stations_ in the Church of God, lay men open to violent and peculiar _Temptations_ of the Devil. When our Lord was upon the _Pinacle_, that is not the _Fane_, or _Spire_, but the _Battlements_ of the _Temple_, there did the Devil pester him, with singular Molestations, and he therein seems to intend an Entanglement for the Jews, as well as for our Lord. Believe me they that stand High, cannot stand safe. The Devil is a _Nimrod_, a mighty Hunter; and common or little Game, will not serve his Turn: he is a _Leviathan_, of whom we may say, as in _Job. 41.34._ _He beholds all high things._ Men of high Attainments, and Men of high Employments, in the Church of God, must look, like _Peter_ to be more _Sifted_, and like _Paul_, to be more _Buffeted_ than other Men. _Ferunt Summos Fulmina Montes._----The Devil can raise a Storm, when God permitteth it, but as for those Men that stand near Heaven, the Devil will attack them with his most cruel storms of Thunder and Lightening. It was said, _let him that standeth take heed;_ but we may say, _They that stand most high, have cause to take most heed._ The Devil is a _Goliah_; and when he finds a _Champion_, he'l be sure most fiercely to Combate such a Man. He is for, _Killing many Birds with one stone_; and he knows that he shall hinder a world of _Good_, and produce a world of _Ill_, if once he can bring a Man Eminently Stationed into his Toyls. Hence 'tis that the _Ministers_ of God, are more dogg'd by the Devil, than other persons are. Especially such _Ministers_, as more in the highest Orb of Serviceableness; and most of all such _Ministers_ as have spent many years in Laudable Endeavours to be serviceable; Those Ministers are the _Stars_ of Heaven, at which the _Tayl_ of the _Dragon_, will give the most sweeping and most stinging strokes; the Devil will find that for them, that shall make them _Walk softly_ all their Days. These are the Men, that have creepled, and vexed the Devil more than other Men; for which the Devil has an old Quarrel with them. O Neighbours, little do you think, what black Days of Mourning, and Fasting, and Praying before the Lord, a Raging Devil does fill the lives of such _Men of God_ withall. IV. The Devil will make a deceitful and unfaithful use of the _Scriptures_ to make his _Temptations_ forceable. When the Devil Solicited our Lord, unto an evil thing, he quoted the _Ninty First_ Psalm unto him, tho' indeed he fallaciously clip'd it, and maim'd it, of one clause very material in it. O never does the Devil make such dangerous Passes at us, as when he does wrest our _own Sword_ out of our Hands, and push _That_ upon us. We have to defend us, that Weapon in _Eph. 6.16._ _The Sword of the Spirit, which, is the word of God_; but when the Devil has that very Weapon to fight us with, he makes terrible work of it. When the Devil would poyson men with false _Doctrines_, he'l quote Scriptures for them; a _Quaker_ himself, will have the First Chapter of _John_ always in his mouth. When the Devil would perswade men to vile _Actions_, he'l quote Scriptures for them; he'l encourage men to go on in Sin, by showing them, where 'tis said, _The Lord is ready to Pardon._ I say this, The one story of _Davids_ Fall, in the Scripture, has been made by the Devil an Engine for the Damnation of many Millions. The Devil will fright men from doing those things, that are, _the Things of their Peace_; but How? He'l turn a _Scripture_ into a _Scare-crow_ for them. The Devil will fright them from all constant Prayer to God, by quoting that Scripture, _The Sacrifice of the Wicked, is an Abomination to the Lord;_ the Devil will fright them from the Holy Supper of God, by quoting that Scripture, _He that Eats and Drinks unworthily, Eats and Drinks damnation to himself._ And thus the Devil will by some abused Scripture, Terrifie the Children of God; the Scripture is written as we are told, _For our Comfort_; but it is quoted by the Devil, _for our terror_. How many Godly Souls have been cast into sinful Doubts and Fears, by the Devils foolish glosses upon that Scripture, _He that doubts is Damned;_ and that, _the fearful shall have their portion in the burning Lake;_ The Devil sometimes has play'd the _Preacher_, but I say, _Beware all silly Souls when such a fool is Preaching._ V. Grievous and Pulling Hurries to _Self-Murder_ are none of the smallest outrages, which the Devil in his _Temptations_ commits upon us. Why, did the Devil say to our Lord, _Cast thy self down_, but in hopes that our Lord would have broke his Bones, in the fall? The Devil is an _Old Murtherer_; and he loves to _Murder_ men; but no _Murder_ gives him so much satisfaction, as that which at his instigation, men perpetrate upon themselves. We see that such as are _Bewitched_ and _Possessed_ by the Devil, do quickly lay violent hands upon themselves, if they be not watched continually, and we see that when persons have begun that _Unnatural_ business of _killing themselves_, there is a _Preternatural_ Stupendious Prodigious Assistance, by the Devil given thereunto. When people are going to Harm themselves, we call upon them, like those to the Jailor, in _Acts 16.28._ _Do thy self no harm!_ And we have this Argument for it, _It is the Devil that is dragging of you to this mischief; but will you believe, will you obey such an one as the Devil is?_ What was it that made _Judas_ to strangle himself? We read it was when the _Devil was in him_. I suppose there are few _self-murderers_, but what are first very strangely fallen into the Devils hands; and possibly, 'tis by some Extraordinary _Discontent_, against God, or _back-sliding_ from him, that the Devil first entred into those disturbed Souls. Indeed, some very great Saints of God, have sometimes had hideous Royls raised by the Devil in their minds; untill they have e'en cry'd out with _Job_, _I choose strangling rather than Life;_ and sometimes the ill Humours or Vapours in the Bodies of such Good Men, do so harbour the Devil that they have this woful motion every day thence made unto them; _You must Kill your self! you must! you must!_ But it is rarely any other than a _Saul_, an _Abimelek_, an _Achitophel_, or a _Judas_; rarely any other, than a very Reprobate, whom the Devil can drive, while the man is _Compos Mentis_, to Consummate such a Villany. Yea, no Child of God, in his Right Senses can go so far in this impiety, as to be left without all Time and Room for true _Repentance_ of the Crime; 'tis _thus_ done, by none but those that go to the Devil. A _self-murder_, acted by one that is upon other accounts a Reasonable man, is but such an attempt of Revenge upon the God that made him, as none but one full of the Devil can be guilty of. If any of you are Dragoon'd by the Devil, unto the murdering of your selves, my Advice to you is, _Disclose it_, _Reveal it_, _make it known immediately_. One that Cut his own Throat among us, Expired crying out, _O that I had told! O that I had told._ You may spoil the Devil, if you'l _Tell_ what he is a doing of. VI. Presumptuous and Unwarrantable _Trials_ of the Blessed God, are some of those things whereinto the Devil would fain hook us with his _Temptations_. This was that which the Devil would have brought our Lord unto, even, _A tempting of the Lord our God_. It is the charge of our God upon us, in _Deut. 6.16._ _Thou shalt not Tempt the Lord thy God._ But that which the Devil _Tries_, is, to put us upon _Trying_ in a sinful way, whether God be such a God as indeed he is. 'Tis true as to the ways of Obedience, our God says unto us, _Prove me, in those ways; Try, whether I won't be as good as my Word._ But then there are ways of _Presumption_, wherein the Devil would have us to trie, what a God it is, _With whom we have to do_. The Devil would have us to trie the Purpose of God, about our selves or others; but how? By going to the _Devil_ himself; by Consulting _Astrologers_, or _Fortune Tellers_; or perhaps by letting the Bible fall open, to see what is the first Sentence we light upon. The Devil would have us trie the Mercy of God, but how? By running into _Dangers_, which we have no call unto. He would have us trie the Power of God; but how? By looking for good things, without the use of Means for the getting of them. He would have us trie the Justice of God; but how? By venturing upon Sin in a _Corner_, with an Imagination that God will never bring us out. He would have us trie the Promise of God; but how? By _Limiting_ the Lord, unto such or such a way of manifesting Himself, or else believing of nothing at all. He would have us trie the Threatning of God; but how? By going on impenitently in those things, for which the _Wrath of God comes upon the Children of Disobedience_. Thus would the Devil have us to affront the Majesty of Heaven every day. VII. The _Temptations_ of the Devil, aim at puffing and bloating of us up, with _Pride_; as much perhaps as any one iniquity. The Devil would have had Our Lord make a _Vain glorious_ Discovery of himself unto the World, by _Flying in the air_, so as no mortal can. _Hoc Ithacus velit_--the Devil would have us to soar aloft, and not only to be above other men, but also to _know_ that we are so, _Pride_ is the Devils own sin; and he affects especially to be, _The King over the Children of Pride_, it is a caution in _1 Tim. 3.6._ A Pastor must not be _A Novice_; _Lest being lifted up with Pride, He fall into the condemnation of the Devil._ (_Summo ac Pio cum Tremore Hunc Textum Legamus nos Ministri Juvenes!_) Accordingly, the Devil would have us to be inordinately taken and moved with what _Excellencies_ our God has bestowed upon us. If our _Estates_ rise, he would have us rise in our Spirits too. If we have been blessed with Beauty, with Breeding, with Honour, with Success, with Attire, with Spiritual Priviledges, or with Praise-worthy Performances; Now says the Devil, _Think thy self better than other Men._ Yea, the Devil would have us arrogate unto our selves, those _Excellencies_ which really we never were owners of; and _Boast of a false Gift_. He would have us moreover to Thirst after Applause among others that may see Our _Excellencies_! and be impatient if we are not accounted _some-body_. He would have us furthermore, to aspire after such a _Figure_, as God has never yet seen fitting for us; and croud into some _High Chair_ that becomes us not. Thus would the Devil Elevate us into the _Air_, above our Neighbours; and why so? 'Tis that we may be punished with such _Falls_, as may make us cry out with _David_, _O my Bones are broken with my Falls!_ The Devil can't endure to see men lying in the _Dust_; because there is no falling thence. He is a _Fallen Spirit_ himself, and it pleases him to see the _Falls_ of men. §. The Third of Our Lords Three Temptations, is related in such Terms as these. _Matth. 4.8, 9._ _Again the Devil taketh him up, into an exceeding High Mountain, and sheweth him all the Kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them: and saith unto him, all these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and Worship me._ From whence take these Remarks. I. The Devil in his _Temptations_ will set the Delight of this world before us; but he'll set a fair, and a false _Varnish_ upon those Delights. They were some unknown _Perspectives_, which the Devil had, both for the Refracting of the _Medium_, and for the Magnifying of the Object, whereby he gave our Lord at once a prospect of the whole Roman Empire; but what was it? It was the _World_, and the _Glory_ of it; he says not a word of the _World_, and the _Trouble_ of it. No sure; not a word of that; the Devil will not have his Hook so barely expos'd unto us. The Devil sets off the Delights of Sin, which he offers unto us, with a stretched and raised Rhetorick; but he will not own, _That in the midst of our Laughter, our Heart shall be sorrowful;_ and _That the end of our Mirth shall be Heaviness._ There is but one Glass in the Spectacles, with which the Devil would have us to read, those passages in _Eccles. 11.9._ _Rejoyce, O young Man in thy youth, and let thy Heart chear thee in the Dayes of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy Heart, and in the sight of thine Eyes._ Thus far the Devil would have us to Read; and he'll make many a fine Comment upon it; he'll tell us, That if we'll follow the Courses of the World, we shall swim in all the Delights of the World. But he is not willing you should Read out the next words; _But know thou, that for all these things God shall bring thee into Judgment._ O he's loth we should be aware of the dreadful Issues, and Reckonings that our Worldly Delights will be attended with. He sets before us, _The Pleasures of Sin_; but he will not say, _These are but for a Season._ He sets before us, _The sweet Waters of Stealth_; but he will not say, _There is Death in the Pot._ He is a _Mountebank_, that will bestow nothing but Romantic Praises upon all that he makes us the Offers of. II. There are most Hellish _Blasphemies_ often buzz'd by the _Temptations_ of the Devil, into the minds of the best Men alive. What a most Execrable Thing was here laid before our Lord Himself: Even, To own the _Devil as God_! a thing that can't be uttered, without unutterable Horror of Soul. The best man on earth, may have such _Fiery Darts_ from Hell shot into his mind. One that was acted by the _Devil_, had the impudence to propound this unto such a good man as _Job_, _Curse God_. And the Devil pleases himself, by chusing the Hearts of good men, with his base Injections, _That there is no God_, or, _That God is not a Righteous God_; and a thousand more such things, too Devilish to be mentioned. A good man is extreamly grieved at it, when he hears a _Blasphemy_ from the mouth of another man; said the Psalmist, in _Psal. 44.15, 16._ _My Confusion is continually before me, for the voice of him that Blasphemeth._ But much more when a good man finds a _Blasphemy_ in his own Heart; O it throws him into most Fevourish Agonies of Soul. For this cause, a mischievous Devil, will _Flie blow_ the Heart of such a man, with such Blasphemous Thoughts, as make him crie out, _Lord I am e'n weary of my life._ Yea, the Devil serves the man just as the Mistress of _Joseph_ dealt with him; he importunes the man to think wickedly from Day to Day; and if the man refuse, he cries out at last, _Behold, what wicked thoughts this man has lodging in him._ Sayst thou so? _Satan!_ No, they are Baits of thy own; and at thy Door alone shall they be laid for ever. III. There is a sort of Witchcrafts in those things, whereto the Temptations of the Devil would inveigle us. To worship the Devil is Witchcraft, and under that notion was our Lord urged unto sin. We are told in _1 Sam. 15.23._ _Rebellion is as the sin of Witchcraft:_ When the Devil would have us to sin, he would have us to do the things which the forlorn Witches use to do. Perhaps there are few persons, ever allured by the Devil unto an Explicit Covenant with himself. If any among ourselves be so, my councel is, that you hunt the Devil from you, with such words as the Psalmist had, _Be gone, Depart from me, ye evil Doers, for I will keep the Commandments of my God._ But alas, the most of men, are by the Devil put upon doing the things that are Analogous to the worst usages of Witches. The Devil says to the sinner, _Despise thy Baptism, and all the Bond of it, and all the Good of it._ The Devil says to the sinner, _Come, cast off the Authority of God, and refuse the Salvation of Christ for ever._ Yea, the Devil who is called, _The God of this World_, would have us to take Him for Our God, and rather Hear Him, Trust Him, Serve Him, than the God that formed us. IV. The _Temptations_ of the Devil do Tug and Pull for nothing more, than that the Rulers of the World may yield Homage unto him. Our Lord has had this by his Father Engag'd unto him, _That he shall one day be Governour of the Nations._ The Devil doe's extreamly dread the approach of that Illustrious time, when _The Kingdom of God shall come and his Will be done, as in Heaven, and on Earth._ For this cause it was that he was desirous, Our Lord should rather have accepted of him, that Kingdom, which _Antichrist_ afterwards accepted of him, for the Establishment of _Devil-worship_, in the World. I may tell you, The Devil is mighty unwilling, that there should be one _Godly Magistrate_ upon the face of the Earth. Such is the influence of _Government_, that the Devil will every where stickle mightily, to have that siding with him. What _Rulers_ would the Devil have, to command all mankind, if he might have his will? Even, such as are called in _Psal. 94.20._ _The throne of iniquity, which frames mischief by a Law_; such as will promote Vice, by both Connivance, and Example; and such as will oppress all that shall be _Holy, and Just, and Good_. All men have cause therefore to be jealous, what Use the Devil may make of them, with reference to the Affairs of Government; but Rulers may most of all think, that the Lord Jesus from Heaven calls upon them, _Satan has desired that he might Sift you, and have you; O Look to it, what side you take._ Thus have you in the Temptations of our Lord, seen the principal of those Devices, which the Devil has to Entrap our Souls. But what shall we now do, that we may be fortified against those Devices? O that we might be well furnished with the _Whole Armour of God_! But me thinks, there were some things attending the Temptations of our Lord, which would especially Recommend those few Hints unto us for our Guard. First, If you are not fond of Temptation, be not fond of Needless, or Too much Retirement. Where was it, that the Devil fell upon our Lord? it was when he was Alone in the Wilderness. We should all have our Times to be Alone every Day; and if the Devil go to scare us out of our Chambers, with such a Bugbear, as that he'll appear to us, yet stay in spite of his teeth, stay to finish your Devotions; he Lyes, he dare not shew his head. But on the other-side by being too solitary, we may lay our selves too much open to the Devil; You know who says, _Wo to him that is alone._ Secondly, Let an _Oracle_ of God be your defence against a _Temptation_ of _Hell_. How did our Lord silence the _Devil_? It was with an, _It is written!_ And _all_ his Three Citations were from that one Book of _Deuteronomy_. What a _full_ Armoury then have we, in _all_ the sacred Pages that lie before us? Whatever the Words of the _Devil_ are, drown them with the words of the _Great God_. Say, _It is Written_ The _Belshazzar_ of _Hell_ will Tremble and Withdraw, if you show these _Hand-Writings_ of the Lord. Lastly, Since the Lord Jesus Christ has conquered all the _Temptations_ of the Devil, Flie to that Lord, Crie to that Lord, that He would give you a share in his Happy Victory. It was for Us that our Lord overcome the Devil: and when he did but say, _Satan, Get hence_, away presently the Tygre flew: Does the Devil molest Us? Then let us Repair to our Lord, who says, _I know how to succour the Tempted._ Said the _Psalmist_, _Psal. 61.2._ _Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I._ A Woman in this Land being under the Possession of Devils, the Devils within her, audibly spoke of diverse Harms they would inflict upon her; but still they made this answer, _Ah! She Runs to the Rock! She Runs to the Rock!_ and that hindered all. O this _Running to the Rock_; 'tis the best Preservation in the World; the _Vultures_ of _Hell_ cannot prey upon the _Doves_ in the _Clefts_ of that _Rock_. May our God now lead us thereunto. A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE TRYALS OF THE \New-England Witches\. WITH THE OBSERVATIONS Of a Person who was upon the Place several Days when the suspected Witches were first taken into Examination. To which is added, \Cases of Conscience\ Concerning Witchcrafts and Evil Spirits Personating Men. Written at the Request of the Ministers of _New-England_. By _Increase Mather_, President of _Harvard_ Colledge. \Licensed and Entred according to Order.\ _London_: Printed for \J. Dunton\, at the _Raven_ in the _Poultrey_. 1693. Of whom may be had the _Third Edition_ of Mr. _Cotton Mather's First Account_ of the Tryals of the _New-England_ Witches, Printed on the same size with this _Last Account_, that they may bind up together. A TRUE NARRATIVE of some Remarkable Passages relating to sundry Persons afflicted by _Witchcraft_ at _Salem_ Village in _New-England_, which happened from the _19th._ of _March_ to the _5th._ of _April_, 1692. COLLECTED BY DEODAT LAWSON. On the Nineteenth day of _March_ last I went to _Salem_ Village, and lodged at _Nathaniel Ingersol's_ near to the Minister Mr. _P.'s_ House, and presently after I came into my Lodging, Capt. _Walcut's_ Daughter _Mary_ came to Lieut. _Ingersol's_ and spake to me; but suddenly after, as she stood by the Door, was bitten, so that she cried out of her Wrist, and looking on it with a Candle, we saw apparently the marks of Teeth, both upper and lower set, on each side of her Wrist. In the beginning of the Evening I went to give Mr. _P._ a Visit. When I was there, his Kinswoman, _Abigail Williams_, (about 12 Years of Age) had a grievous fit; she was at first hurried with violence to and fro in the Room (though Mrs. _Ingersol_ endeavoured to hold her) sometimes making as if she would fly, stretching up her Arms as high as she could, and crying, _Whish, Whish, Whish_, several times; presently after she said, there was Goodw. _N._ and said, _Do you not see her? Why there she stands!_ And she said, Goodw. _N._ offered her THE BOOK, but she was resolved she would not take it, saying often, _I wont, I wont, I wont take it, I do not know what Book it is: I am sure it is none of God's Book, it is the Devil's Book for ought I know._ After that, she ran to the Fire, and begun to throw Fire-brands about the House, and run against the Back, as if she would run up Chimney, and, as they said, she had attempted to go into the Fire in other Fits. On Lords Day, the Twentieth of _March_, there were sundry of the afflicted Persons at Meeting, as Mrs. _Pope_, and Goodwife _Bibber_, _Abigail Williams_, _Mary Walcut_, _Mary Lewes_, and Doctor _Grigg's_ Maid. There was also at Meeting, Goodwife _C._ (who was afterward Examined on suspicion of being a _Witch_:) They had several sore Fits in the time of Publick Worship, which did something interrupt me in my first Prayer, being so unusual. After _Psalm_ was sung _Abigail Williams_ said to me, _Now stand up, and name your Text!_ And after it was read, she said, _It is a long Text._ In the beginning of Sermon, Mrs. _Pope_, a Woman afflicted, said to me, _Now there is enough of that._ And in the Afternoon, _Abigail Williams_, upon my referring to my _Doctrine_, said to me, _I know no Doctrine you had, If you did name one, I have forgot it._ In Sermon time, when Goodwife _C._ was present in the Meeting-House, _Ab. W._ called out, _Look where Goodwife C. sits on the Beam suckling her Yellow Bird betwixt her fingers!_ _Ann Putman_, another Girle afflicted, said, _There was a Yellow Bird sat on my Hat as it hung on the Pin in the Pulpit;_ but those that were by, restrained her from speaking loud about it. On _Monday_ the _21st._ of _March_, the Magistrates of _Salem_ appointed to come to Examination of Goodwife _C._ And about Twelve of the Clock they went into the Meeting-House, which was thronged with Spectators. Mr. _Noyes_ began with a very pertinent and pathetical _Prayer_; and Goodwife _C._ being called to answer to what was alledged against her, she desired to go to _Prayer_, which was much wondred at, in the presence of so many hundred People: The Magistrates told her, they would not admit it; they came not there to hear her Pray, but to Examine her, in what was Alledged against her. The Worshipful Mr. _Hathorne_ asked her, _Why she afflicted those Children?_ She said, she did not Afflict them. He asked her, who did then? She said, _I do not know; How should I know?_ The Number of the Afflicted Persons were about that time Ten, _viz._ Four Married Women, Mrs. _Pope_, Mrs. _Putman_, Goodwife _Bibber_, and an Ancient Woman, named _Goodall_; three Maids, _Mary Walcut_, _Mercy Lewes_, at _Thomas Putman's_, and a Maid at _Dr. Griggs's_; there were three Girls from 9 to 12 Years of Age, each of them, or thereabouts, _viz._ _Elizabeth Parris_, _Abigail Williams_, and _Ann Putman_; these were most of them at Goodwife _C.'s_ Examination, and did vehemently Accuse her in the Assembly of Afflicting them, by _Biting_, _Pinching_, _Strangling_, _&c._ And that they in their Fits see her Likeness coming to them, and bringing a _Book_ to them; she said, she had no _Book_; they affirmed, she had a _Yellow Bird_, that used to suck betwixt her Fingers, and being asked about it, if she had any _Familiar Spirit_, that attended her? she said, _She had no Familiarity with any such thing._ She was a _Gospel Woman_: Which Title she called her self by; and the Afflicted Persons told her, Ah! she was _A Gospel Witch_. _Ann Putman_ did there affirm, that one day when Lieutenant _Fuller_ was at Prayer at her Father's House, she saw the shape of Goodwife _C._ and she thought Goodwife _N._ Praying at the same time to the Devil; she was not sure it was Goodwife _N._ she thought it was; but very sure she saw the shape of Goodwife _C._ The said _C._ said, they were poor distracted Children, and no heed to be given to what they said. Mr. _Hathorne_ and Mr. _Noyes_ replyed, It was the Judgment of all that were present, they were _Bewitched_, and only she the Accused Person said, they were _Distracted_. It was observed several times, that if she did but bite her under lip in time of Examination, the Persons afflicted were bitten on their Arms and Wrists, and produced the _Marks_ before the Magistrates, Ministers, and others. And being watched for that, if she did but _Pinch_ her Fingers, or _Grasp_ one Hand hard in another, they were Pinched, and produced the _Marks_ before the Magistrates, and Spectators. After that, it was observed, that if she did but lean her _Breast_ against the Seat in the Meeting-House, (being the _Bar_ at which she stood), they were afflicted. Particularly Mrs. _Pope_ complained of grievous Torment in her _Bowels_, as if they were torn out. She vehemently accused the said _C._ as the Instrument, and first threw her Muff at her; but that flying not home, she got off her _shoe_, and hit Goodwife _C._ on the Head with it. After these Postures were watched, if the said _C._ did but stir her Feet, they were afflicted in their _Feet_, and stamped fearfully. The afflicted Persons asked her, why she did not go to the Company of Witches which were before the Meeting-House Mustering? Did she not hear the _Drum_ beat? They accused her of having Familiarity with the _Devil_, in the time of Examination, in the shape of a Black _Man_ whispering in her Ear; they affirmed, that her _Yellow Bird_ sucked betwixt her Fingers in the Assembly; and Order being given to see if there were any sign, the Girl that saw it, said, it was too late now; she had removed a _Pin_, and put it on her _Head_; which was found _there_ sticking upright. They told her, she had Covenanted with the _Devil_ for ten Years, six of them were gone, and four more to come. She was required by the Magistrates to answer that Question in the Catechism, _How many persons be there in the God-head?_ She answered it but oddly, yet was there no great thing to be gathered from it; she denied all that was charged upon her, and said, _They could not prove a Witch;_ she was that Afternoon Committed to _Salem_ Prison; and after she was in Custody, she did not so appear to them, and afflict them as before. On Wednesday the _23d._ of _March_, I went to _Thomas Putman's_, on purpose to see his Wife: I found her lying on the Bed, having had a sore Fit a little before; she spake to me, and said, she was glad to see me; her Husband and she both desired me to Pray with her while she was sensible; which I did, though the Apparition said, _I should not go to Prayer._ At the first beginning she attended; but after a little time, was taken with a Fit; yet continued silent, and seemed to be _Asleep_: When Prayer was done, her Husband going to her, found her in a _Fit_; he took her off the Bed, to set her on his Knees, but at first she was so stiff, she could not be bended; but she afterwards sat down, but quickly began to strive violently with her _Arms_ and _Leggs_; she then began to Complain of, and as it were to Converse Personally with, Goodwife _N._ saying, _Goodwife N. Be gone! Be gone! Be gone! are you not ashamed, a Woman of your Profession, to afflict a poor Creature so? What hurt did I ever do you in my life? You have but two Years to live, and then the Devil will torment your Soul; for this your Name is blotted out of God's Book, and it shall never be put in God's Book again; be gone for shame, are you not afraid of that which is coming upon you? I know, I know what will make you afraid; the wrath of an Angry God, I am sure that will make you afraid; be gone, do not torment me, I know what you would have_ (we judged she meant, _her Soul_) _but it is out of your reach; it is cloathed with the white Robes of Christ's Righteousness._ After this, she seemed to dispute with the Apparition about a particular _Text_ of Scripture. The Apparition seemed to deny it; (the Womans Eyes being fast closed all this time) she said, _She was sure there was such a Text_, and she would tell it; and then the Shape would be gone, for, said she, _I am sure you cannot stand before that Text!_ Then she was sorely Afflicted, her Mouth drawn on one side, and her Body strained for about a Minute, and then said, _I will tell, I will tell; it is, it is, it is_, three or four times, and then was afflicted to hinder her from telling, at last she broke forth, and said, _It is the third Chapter of the Revelations._ I did something scruple the reading it, and did let my scruple appear, lest Satan should make any Superstitiously to improve the Word of the Eternal God. However, tho' not versed in these things, I judged I might do it this once for an Experiment. I began to _read_, and before I had near read through the first Verse, she opened her Eyes, and was well; this Fit continued near half an hour. Her Husband and the Spectators told me, she had often been so relieved by reading Texts that she named, something pertinent to her Case; as _Isa. 40.1._ _Isa. 49.1._ _Isa. 50.1._ and several others. On Thursday the Twenty-Fourth of _March_, (being in course the Lecture-Day at the Village,) Goodwife. _N._ was brought before the Magistrates Mr. _Hathorne_ and Mr. _Corwin_, about Ten of the Clock in the Forenoon, to be Examined in the Meeting-House, the Reverend Mr. _Hale_ begun with Prayer, and the Warrant being read, she was required to give Answer, _Why she afflicted those persons?_ She pleaded her own Innocency with earnestness. _Thomas Putman's_ Wife, _Abigail Williams_, and _Thomas Putman's_ Daughter accused her that she appeared to them, and afflicted them in their Fits; but some of the others said, that they had seen her, but knew not that ever she had hurt them; amongst which was _Mary Walcut_, who was presently after she had so declared bitten, and cryed out of her in the Meeting-House, producing the _Marks_ of _Teeth_ on her wrist. It was so disposed, that I had not leisure to attend the whole time of Examination, but both Magistrates and Ministers told me, that the things alledged by the afflicted, and defences made by her, were much after the same manner as the former was. And her motions did produce like effects, as to _Biting_, _Pinching_, _Brusing_, _Tormenting_, at their _Breasts_, by her _Leaning_, and when bended back, were as if their Backs were broken. The afflicted Persons said, the _Black Man_ whispered to her in the Assembly, and therefore she could not hear what the Magistrates said unto her. They said also, that she did then ride by the Meeting-House, behind the _Black Man_. _Thomas Putman's_ Wife had a grievous Fit in the time of Examination, to the very great impairing of her strength, and wasting of her spirits, insomuch as she could hardly move hand or foot when she was carried out. Others also were there grievously afflicted, so that there was once such a hideous scrietch and noise (which I heard as I walked at a little distance from the Meeting-House) as did amaze me, and some that were within, told me the whole Assembly was struck with Consternation, and they were afraid, that those that sate next to them were under the Influence of _Witchcraft_. This Woman also was that day committed to _Salem_ Prison. The Magistrates and Ministers also did inform me, that they apprehended a Child of _Sarah G._ and examined it, being between 4 and 5 years of Age. And as to matter of Fact, they did unanimously affirm, that when this _Child_ did but cast its Eye upon the afflicted Persons, they were tormented; and they held her _Head_, and yet so many as her _Eye_ could fix upon were afflicted. Which they did several times make careful Observation of: The afflicted complained, they had often been _Bitten_ by this Child, and produced the marks of _a small set of teeth_ accordingly; this was also committed to _Salem_ Prison, the Child looked _hail, and well_ as other Children. I saw it at Lieut. _Ingersol's_. After the Commitment of Goodw. _N._ _Tho. Putman's_ Wife was much better, and had no violent Fits at all from that _24th._ of March, to the _5th._ of _April_. Some others also said they had not seen her so frequently appear to them, to hurt them. On the _25th._ of _March_ (as Capt. _Stephen Sewal_ of _Salem_ did afterwards inform me) _Eliz. Paris_ had sore Fits at his House, which much troubled _himself, and his Wife_, so as he told me they were almost discouraged. She related, that the great _Black Man_ came to her, and told her, if she would be ruled by him, she should have whatsoever she desired, and go to a _Golden City_. She relating this to Mrs. _Sewal_, she told the Child, it was the _Devil_, and he was a _Lyar from the Beginning_, and bid her tell him so, if he came again: which she did accordingly, at the next coming to her, in her Fits. On the _26th._ of _March_, Mr. _Hathorne_, Mr. _Corwin_, and Mr. _Higison_, were at the Prison-Keeper's House to Examine the Child, and it told them there, it had a little _Snake_ that used to suck on the lowest Joynt of its Fore-Finger; and when they enquired where, pointing to other places, it told them, not there, but _there_, pointing on the lowest Joint of the Fore-Finger, where they observed a deep Red Spot, about the bigness of a _Flea-bite_; they asked who gave it that _Snake_? whether the great Black Man? It said no, its Mother gave it. The 31 of _March_ there was a _Publick Fast_ kept at _Salem_ on account of these Afflicted Persons. And _Abigail Williams_ said, that the Witches had a _Sacrament_ that day at an house in the Village, and that they had _Red Bread_ and _Red Drink_. The first of _April_, _Mercy Lewis_, _Thomas Putman's_ Maid, in her Fit, said, they did eat _Red Bread_, like _Man's Flesh_, and would have had her eat some, but she would not; but turned away her head, and spit at them, and said, _I will not Eat, I will not Drink, it is Blood, &c._, she said, _That is not the Bread of Life; that is not the Water of Life; Christ gives the Bread of Life; I will have none of it!_ The first of _April_ also _Mercy Lewis_ aforesaid saw in her Fit a _White Man_, and was with him in a glorious Place, which had no _Candles_ nor _Sun_, yet was full of Light and _Brightness_; where was a great Multitude in White glittering Robes, and they Sung the Song in the fifth of _Revelation_, the 9th verse, and the 110 _Psalm_, and the 149 _Psalm_; and said with her self, _How long shall I stay here! let me be along with you:_ She was loth to leave this place, and grieved that she could tarry no longer. This _white Man_ hath appeared several times to some of them, and given them notice how long it should be before they had another Fit, which was sometimes a day, or day and half, or more or less, it hath fallen out accordingly. The 3d of _April_, the Lord's-day, being Sacrament-day, at the Village, _Goodw. C._ upon Mr. _Parris's_ naming his Text, _John 6.70._ _One of them is a Devil_, the said _Goodw. C._ went immediately out of the Meeting-House, and flung the Door after her violently, to the amazement of the Congregation. She was afterwards seen by some in their Fits, who said, _O +Goodw. C.+ I did not think to see you here!_ (and being at their _Red bread and drink_) said to her, _Is this a time to receive the Sacrament, you ran away on the Lord's-Day, and scorned to receive it in the Meeting-House, and, Is this a time to receive it? I wonder at you!_ This is the sum of what I either saw my self, or did receive Information from persons of undoubted Reputation and Credit. REMARKS OF THINGS MORE THAN ORDINARY ABOUT THE AFFLICTED PERSONS. 1. They are in their Fits tempted to be _Witches_, are shewed the List of the Names of others, and are tortured, because they will not yeild to Subscribe, or meddle with, or touch the BOOK, and are promised to have present Belief if they would do it. 2. They did in the Assembly mutually _Cure_ each other, even with a _Touch_ of their Hand, when Strangled, and otherwise Tortured; and would endeavour to get to their Afflicted, to relieve them. 3. They did also foretel when anothers Fit was a-coming, and would say, _Look to her!_ she will have a Fit presently, which fell out accordingly, as many can bear witness, that heard and saw it. 4. That at the same time, when the _Accused_ Person was present, the _Afflicted Persons_ saw her Likeness in other places of the Meeting-House, suckling her _Familiar_, sometimes in one place and posture, and sometimes in another. 5. That their Motions in their Fits are _Preternatural_, both as to the manner, which is so strange as a well person could not Screw their Body into; and as to the violence also it is preternatural being much beyond the Ordinary force of the same person when they are in their right mind. 6. The _eyes_ of some of them in their fits are exceeding fast closed, and if you ask a question they can give no answer, and I do believe they cannot hear at that time, yet do they plainely converse with the Appearances, as if they did discourse with real persons. 7. They are utterly pressed against any persons _Praying_ with them, and told by the appearances, they shall not go to _Prayer_, so _Tho. Putman's_ wife was told, _I should not Pray;_ but she said, _I should:_ and after I had done, reasoned with the _Appearance_, _Did not I say he should go to Prayer._ 8. The forementioned _Mary W._ being a little better at ease, the Afflicted persons said, _she had signed the Book_; and that was the reason she was better. Told me by _Edward Putman_. REMARKS CONCERNING THE ACCUSED. 1. For introduction to the discovery of those that afflicted them, It is reported Mr. _Parris's_ Indian Man, and Woman, made a Cake of _Rye Meal_, and the Childrens water, baked it in the Ashes, and gave it to a Dog, since which they have discovered, and seen particular persons hurting of them. 2. In Time of Examination, they seemed little affected, though all the Spectators were much grieved to see it. 3. _Natural_ Actions in them produced _Preternatural_ actions in the Afflicted, so that they are their own _Image_ without any _Poppits_ of Wax or otherwise. 4. That they are accused to have a Company about 23 or 24 and they did _Muster in Armes_, as it seemed to the Afflicted Persons. 5. Since they were confined, the Persons have not been so much Afflicted with their appearing to them, _Biteing_ or _Pinching_ of them &c. 6. They are reported by the Afflicted Persons to keep dayes of _Fast_ and dayes of _Thanksgiving_, and _Sacraments_; Satan endeavours to Transforme himself to an _Angel of Light_, and to make his Kingdom and Administrations to resemble those of our Lord Jesus Christ. 7. Satan Rages Principally amongst the Visible Subjects of Christ's Kingdom and makes use (at least in appearance) of some of them to Afflict others; that _Christ's Kingdom, may be divided against it self_, and so be weakened. 8. Several things used in _England_ at Tryal of Witches, to the Number of 14 or 15 which are wont to pass instead of, or in Concurrence with _Witnesses_, at least 6 or 7 of them are found in these accused: see _Keebles Statutes_. 9. Some of the most solid Afflicted Persons do affirme the same things concerning _seeing_ the accused _out_ of their Fitts as well as _in_ them. 10. The Witches had a _Fast_, and told one of the Afflicted Girles, she must not _Eat_, because it was _Fast Day_, she said, she _would_: they told her they would _Choake_ her then; which when she did eat, was endeavoured. A FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE TRYALS OF THE NEW-ENGLAND WITCHES, SENT IN A LETTER FROM THENCE, TO A GENTLEMAN IN LONDON. Here were in _Salem_, _June 10, 1692_, about 40 persons that were afflicted with horrible torments by _Evil Spirits_, and the afflicted have accused 60 or 70 as Witches, for that they have _Spectral appearances_ of them, tho the Persons are absent when they are tormented. When these Witches were Tryed, several of them confessed a contract with the Devil, by signing his Book, and did express much sorrow for the same, declaring also thir _Confederate Witches_, and said the Tempters of them desired 'em to sign the _Devils Book_, who tormented them till they did it. There were at the time of _Examination_, before many hundreds of Witnesses, strange Pranks play'd; such as the taking Pins out of the Clothes of the afflicted, and thrusting them into their flesh, many of which were taken out again by the _Judges_ own hands. Thorns also in like kind were thrust into their flesh; the accusers were sometimes _struck dumb, deaf, blind_, and sometimes lay as if they were dead for a while, and all foreseen and declared by the afflicted just before it 'twas done. Of the afflicted there were two Girls, about _12 or 13 years of age_, who saw all that was done, and were therefore called the _Visionary Girls_; they would say, _Now he, or she, or they, are going to bite or pinch the Indian_; and all there present in Court saw the visible marks on the _Indians_ arms; they would also cry out, _Now look, look, they are going to bind such an ones Legs_, and all present saw the same person spoken of, fall with her Legs twisted in an extraordinary manner; Now say they, we shall all fall, and immediately 7 or 8 of the afflicted fell down, with _terrible shrieks and Out-crys_; at the time when one of the Witches was _sentenc'd, and pinnion'd_ with a Cord, at the same time was the afflicted _Indian_ Servant going home, (being about 2 or 3 miles out of town,) and had both his Wrists at the same instant bound about with a like Cord, in the same manner as she was when she was sentenc'd, but with that violence, that the Cord entred into his flesh, not to be untied, nor hardly cut----Many _Murders_ are suppos'd to be in this way committed; for these Girls, and others of the afflicted, say, _they see Coffins, and bodies in Shrowds_, rising up, and looking on the accused, crying, _Vengeance, Vengeance on the Murderers_----Many other strange things were transacted before the Court in the time of their Examination; and especially one thing which I had like to have forgot, which is this, One of the accus'd, whilst the rest were under Examination, was drawn up by a Rope to the Roof of the house where he was, and would have been choak'd in all probability, had not the Rope been presently cut; the Rope hung at the Roof by some _invisible tye_, for there was no hole where it went up; but after it was cut the _remainder_ of it was found in the Chamber just above, lying by the very place where it hung down. In _December 1692_, the Court sate again at _Salem_ in _New-England_, and cleared about 40 persons suspected for Witches, and Condemned three. The Evidence against these three was the same as formerly, so the Warrant for their Execution was sent, and the _Graves digged_ for the said three, and for about five more that had been Condemned at _Salem_ formerly, but were Repreived by the Governour. In the beginning of _February 1693_, the Court sate at _Charles-Town_ where the Judge exprest himself to this effect. _That who it was that obstructed the Execution of Justice, or hindred those good proceedings they had made, he knew not, but thereby the Kingdom of Satan was advanc'd_, &c. _and the Lord have mercy on this Country:_ and so declined coming any more into Court. In his absence _Mr. D----_ sate as Chief Judge 3 several days, in which time 5 or 6 were clear'd by Proclamation, and almost as many by Trial; so that all are acquitted. The most remarkable was an Old Woman named _Dayton_, of whom it was said, _If any in the World were a Witch, she was one, and had been so accounted 30 years._ I had the Curiosity to see her tried; she was a decrepid Woman of about 80 years of age, and did not use many words in her own defence. She was accused by about 30 Witnesses; but the matter alledged against her was such as needed little apology, on her part not one passionate word, or immoral action, or evil, was then objected against her for 20 years past, only strange accidents falling out, after some Christian admonition given by her, as saying, _God would not prosper them, if they wrong'd the Widow._ Upon the whole, there was not proved against her any thing worthy of Reproof, or just admonition, much less so heinous a Charge. So that by the _Goodness_ of God we are once more out of present danger of this _Hobgoblin Monster_; the standing Evidence used at _Salem_ were called, but did not appear. There were others also at _Charles-town_ brought upon their _Tryals_, who had formerly confess'd themselves to be Witches; but upon their tryals deny'd it, and were all clear'd; So that at present there is no _further prosecution of any_. CASES of CONSCIENCE Concerning Evil Spirits Personating MEN; WITCHCRAFTS, Infallible Proofs of Guilt in such as are Accused with that CRIME. All Considered according to the Scriptures, History, Experience, and the Judgment of many Learned MEN. By _Increase Mather_, President of _Harvard_ Colledge at _Cambridge_, and Teacher of a Church at _Boston_ in _New England_. PROV. xxii. xxi. _----That thou mightest Answer the Words of Truth, to them that send unto thee._ _Efficiunt Dæmones, ut quæ non sunt, sic tamen, quasi sint, conspicienda hominibus exhibeant._ _Lactantius_ Lib. 2. _Instit._ Cap. 15. _Diabolus Consulitur, cum iis mediis utimur aliquid Cognoscendi, quæ a Diabolo sunt introducta._ _Ames Cas. Cons._ L. 4. Cap. 23. Printed at _Boston_, and Re-printed at _London_, for \John Dunton\, at the _Raven_ in the _Poultrey_. 1693. CHRISTIAN READER. _So Odious and Abominable is the Name of a Witch, to the Civilized, much more the Religious part of Mankind, that it is apt to grow up into a Scandal for any, so much as to enter some sober cautions against the over hasty suspecting, or too precipitant Judging of Persons on this account. But certainly, the more execrable the Crime is, the more critical care is to be used in the exposing of the Names, Liberties, and Lives of Men (especially of a Godly Conversation) to the imputation of it. The awful hand of God now upon us, in letting loose of evil Angels among us to perpetrate such horrid Mischiefs, and suffering of Hell's Instruments to do such fearful things as have been scarce heard of; hath put serious persons into deep Musings, and upon curious Enquiries what is to be done for the detecting and defeating of this tremendous design of the grand Adversary: And, tho' all that fear God are agreed, +That no evil is to be done, that good may come of it+; yet hath the Devil obtained not a little of his design, in the divisions of Reuben, about the application of this Rule._ _That there are Devils and Witches, the Scripture asserts, and experience confirms, That they are common enemies of Mankind, and set upon mischief, is not to be doubted: That the Devil can (by Divine Permission) and often doth vex men in Body and Estate, without the Instrumentality of Witches, is undeniable: That he often hath, and delights to have the concurrence of Witches, and their consent in harming men, is consonant to his native Malice to Man, and too lamentably exemplified: That Witches, when detected and convinced, ought to be exterminated and cut off, we have God's warrant for, +Exod. 22.18.+ Only the same God who hath said, +thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live+; hath also said, +at the Mouth of two Witnesses, or three Witnesses shall he that is worthy of Death, be put to Death: But at the Mouth of one Witness, he shall not be put to Death+, +Deut. 17.6.+ Much debate is made about what is sufficient Conviction, and some have (in their Zeal) supposed that a less clear evidence ought to pass in this than in other Cases, supposing that else it will be hard (if possible) to bring such to condign Punishment, by reason of the close conveyances that there are between the Devil and Witches; but this is a very dangerous and unjustifiable tenet. Men serve God in doing their Duty, he never intended that all persons guilty of Capital Crimes should be discovered and punished by men in this Life, though they be never so curious in searching after Iniquity. It is therefore exceeding necessary that in such a day as this, men be informed what is Evidence and what is not. It concerns men in point of Charity; for tho' the most shining Professor may be secretly a most abominable Sinner, yet till he be detected, our Charity is bound to Judge according to what appears: and notwithstanding that a clear evidence must determine a case; yet presumptions must be weighed against presumptions, and Charity is not to be forgone as long as it has the most preponderating on its side. And it is of no less necessity in point of Justice; there are not only Testimonies required by God, which are to be credited according to the Rules given in his Word referring to witnesses: But there is also an Evidence supposed to be in the Testimony, which is throughly to be weighed, and if it do not infallibly prove the Crime against the person accused, it ought not to determine him guilty of it; for so a righteous Man may be Condemned unjustly. In the case of Witchcrafts we know that the Devil is the immediate Agent in the Mischief done, the consent or compact of the Witch is the thing to be Demonstrated._ _Among many Arguments to evince this, that which is most under present debate, is that which refers to something vulgarly called +Spectre Evidence+, and a certain sort of Ordeal or trial by the sight and touch. The principal Plea to justifie the convictive Evidence in these, is fetcht from the Consideration of the Wisdom and Righteousness of God in Governing the World, which they suppose would fail, if such things were permitted to befal an innocent person; but it is certain, that too resolute conclusions drawn from hence, are bold usurpations upon spotless +Sovereignty+: and tho' some things if suffered to be common, would subvert this Government, and disband, yea ruine Humane Society; yet God doth sometimes suffer such things to evene, that we may thereby know how much we are beholden to him, for that restraint which he lays upon the Infernal Spirits, who would else reduce a World into a Chaos. That the Resolutions of such Cases as these is proper for the Servants of Christ in the Ministry cannot be denied; the seasonableness of doing it now, will be justified by the Consideration of the necessity there is at this time of a right Information of men's Judgments about these things, and the danger of their being misinformed._ _The Reverend, Learned, and Judicious Author of the ensuing Cases, is too well known to need our Commendation: All that we are concerned in, is to +assert our hearty Consent to, and Concurrence with the substance of what is contained in the following Discourse+: And, with our hearty Request to God, that he would discover the depths of this Hellish Design; direct in the whole management of this Affair; prevent the taking any wrong steps in this dark way; and that he would in particular Bless these faithful Endeavours of his Servant to that end, we Commend it and you to his Divine Benediction._ William Hubbard. Samuel Phillips. Charles Morton. James Allen. Michael Wigglesworth. Samuel Whiting, _Sen._ Samuel Willard. John Baily. Jabez Fox. Joseph Gerrish. Samuel Angier. John Wise. Joseph Capen. Nehemiah Walter. CASES OF CONSCIENCE CONCERNING WITCHCRAFTS. The First Case that I am desired to express my Judgment in, is this, _Whether it is not Possible for the Devil to impose on the imaginations of Persons Bewitched, and to cause them to Believe that an Innocent, yea that a Pious person does torment them, when the Devil himself doth it; or whether Satan may not appear in the Shape of an Innocent and Pious, as well as of a Nocent and Wicked Person, to Afflict such as suffer by Diabolical Molestations?_ The Answer to the Question must be Affirmative; Let the following Arguments be duely weighed in the Ballance of the Sanctuary. _Argu. 1._ There are several Scriptures from which we may infer the Possibility of what is Affirmed. 1. We find that the _Devil by the Instigation of the Witch at Endor appeared in the Likeness of the Prophet Samuel_. I am not ignorant that some have asserted that, which, if it were proved, would evert this Argument, _viz._ that it was the true and not a delusive _Samuel_ which the Witch brought to converse with _Saul_. Of this Opinion are some of the Jewish Rabbies[1] and some Christian Doctors[2] and many late Popish Authors[3] amongst whom _Cornel. a Lapide_ is most elaborate. But that it was a _Dæmon_ representing _Samuel_ has been evinced by learned and Orthodox Writers: especially [4]_Peter Martyr_, [5]_Balduinus [6]Lavater_, and our incomparable _John Rainolde_. I shall not here insist on the clearing of that, especially considering, that elsewhere I have done it: only let me add, that the Witch said to _Saul_, _I see Elohim_, i. e. _A God_; (for the whole Context shows, that a single Person is intended) _Ascending out of the Earth_. _1 Sam. 28.13._ The Devil would be Worshipped as a God, and _Saul_ now, that he was become a _Necromancer_, must bow himself to him. Moreover, had it been the true _Samuel_ from Heaven reprehending _Saul_, there is great Reason to believe, that he would not only have reproved him for his sin, in not executing Judgment on the _Amalekites_; as in Ver. 18. But for his Wickedness in consulting with Familiar Spirits: For which Sin it was in special that he died. _2 Chron. 10.13._ But in as much as there is not one word to testify against that Abomination, we may conclude that it was not real _Samuel_ that appeared to _Saul_: and if it were the Devil in his likeness, the Argument seems very strong, that if the Devil may appear in the form of a Saint in Glory, much more is it possible for him to put on the likeness of the most Pious and Innocent Saint on Earth. There are, who acknowledge that a _Dæmon_ may appear in the shape of a Godly Person, _But not as doing Evil_. Whereas the Devil in _Samuel's_ likeness told a pernicious Lye, when he said, _Thou hath disquieted me._ It was not in the Power of _Saul_, nor of all the Devils in Hell, to disquiet a Soul in Heaven, where _Samuel_ had been for Two years before this Apparition. Nor did the _Spectre_ speak true, when he said, _Thou and thy Sons shall be with me:_ Tho' _Saul_ himself at his Death went to be with the Devil, his Son _Jonathan_ did not so. Besides, (which suits with the matter in hand) the Devil in _Samuels_ shape confirmed _Necromancy_ and _Cursed Witchery_. He that can in the likeness of Saints encourage Witches to Familiarity with Hell, may possibly in the likeness of a Saint afflict a Bewitched Person. But this we see from Scripture, Satan may be permitted to do. And whereas it is objected, that the Devil may appear indeed in the form of Dead Persons, but that he cannot represent such as are living; The contrary is manifest. No Question had _Saul_ said to the Witch, bring me _David_ who was then living, she could as easily have shown living _David_ as dead _Samuel_, as easily as that great Conjurer of whom [7]_Wierus_ speaks, brought the appearance of _Hector_ and _Achilles_, and after that of _David_ before the Emperour _Maximilian_. And that evil Angels have sometimes appeared in the likeness of living absent persons, is a thing abundantly confirmed by History. [8]_Austin_ tells us of one that went for resolution in some intricate Questions to a Philosopher, of whom he could get no Answer; but in the Night the Philosopher comes to him, and resolves all his Doubts. Not long after, he demanded the reason why he could not answer him in the Day as well as in the Night; The Philosopher professed he was not with him in the Night, only acknowledged that he dreamed of his having such conversation of his Friend, but he was all the time at home, and asleep. _Paulus_ and _Palladius_ did both of them profess to _Austin_, that one in his shape, had divers times, and in divers places appeared to them: [9]_Thyreus_ mentions several Apparitions of absent living persons, which happened in his time, and which he had the certain knowledge of. A Man that is in one place cannot (_Autoprosopos_) at the same time be in another. It remains then that such _Spectres_ are Prodigious and Supernatural, and not without Diabolical Operation. It has been Controverted among Learned Men, whether innocent Persons may not by the malice and deluding Power of the Devil be represented as present amongst Witches at their dark Assemblies. The mentioned _Thyreus_ says, that the Devil may, and often does represent the forms of Innocent Persons out of those Conventions, and that there is no Question to be made of it, but as to his natural Power and Art he is able to make their shapes appear amongst his own Servants, but he supposeth the Providence of God will not suffer such an Injury to be done to an Innocent Person. With him [10]_Delrio_, and _Spineus_ concur. But _Cumanus_ in his _Lucerna Inquisitorum_ (a Book which I have not yet seen) defends the Affirmative in this Question. _Bins Fieldius_ in his Treatise, concerning the Confession of Witches, inclines to the Negative, only [11]he acknowledges _Dei extraordinaria Permissione posse Innocentes sic representari._ And he that shall assert, that Great and Holy God never did nor ever will permit the Devil thus far to abuse an Innocent Person, affirms more than he is able to prove. The story of _Germanus_ his discovering a Diabolical illusion of this nature, concerning a great number of Persons that seemed to be at a Feast when they were really at home and asleep, is mentioned by many Authors. But the particulars insisted on, do sufficiently evince the Truth of what we assert, _viz._ That the Devil may by Divine Permission appear in the shape of Innocent and Pious Persons. Nevertheless, It is evident from another Scripture, _viz._ that in _2 Cor. 11.14._ _For Satan himself is transformed into an Angel of Light._ He seems to be what he is not, and makes others seem to be what they are not. He represents evil men as good, and good men as evil. The Angels of Heaven, (who are the Angels of Light) love Truth and Righteousness, the Devil will seem to do so too; and does therefore sometimes lay before men excellent good Principles and exhort them (as he did _Theodore Maillit_) to practise many things, which by the Law of Righteousness they are obliged unto, and hereby he does more effectually deceive. Is it not strange, that he has sometimes intimated to his most devoted servants, that if they would have familiar Conversation with him, they must be careful to keep themselves from enormous Sins, and pray constantly for Divine Protection? But so has he transformed himself into an Angel of Light, as [12]_Boissardus_ sheweth. He has frequently appeared to Men pretending to be a good Angel, so to _Anatolius_ of old; and the late instances of [13]Dr. _Dee_ and _Kellet_ are famously known. How many deluded _Enthusiasts_ both in former and latter times have been imposed on by Satans appearing visibly to them, pretending to be a good Angel. And moreover, he may be said to transform himself into an _Angel of Light_, because of his appearing in the Form of _Holy Men_, who are the _Children of Light_, yea in the shape and habit of Eminent Ministers of God. So did he appear to Mr. _Earl_ of _Colchester_ in the likeness of Mr. _Liddal_ an Holy Man of God, and to the _Turkish Chaous_ Baptized at _London_, _Anno 1658._ pretending to be Mr. _Dury_ an Excellent Minister of Christ. And how often has he pretended to be the Apostle _Paul_ or _Peter_ or some other celebrated Saint? Ecclesiastical Histories abound with Instances of this nature. Yea, sometimes he has transfigured himself into the Form of Christ. It is reported that he appeared to [14]St. _Martin_ Gloriously arrayed, as if he had been Christ. So likewise to [15]_Secundellus_, and to another Saint, who suspecting it was Satan, transforming himself into an _Angel of Light_ had this expression, _If I may see Christ in Heaven it is enough, I desire not to see him in this World_; whereupon the _Spectre_ vanished. It has been related of _Luther_, that after he had been Fasting and Praying in his Study, the Devil come pretending to be Christ, but _Luther_ saying, _away thou confounded Devil, I acknowledge no Christ but what is in my Bible_, nothing more was seen. Thus then the Devil is able (by Divine Permission) to Change himself into what form or figure he pleaseth, _Omnia transformat sese in miracula rerum._ A Third Scripture to our purpose is that, in _Rev. 12.10._ where the Devil is called the _Accuser of the Brethren_. Such is the malice and impudence of the Devil, as that he does accuse good Men, and that before God, and that not only of such Faults as they really are guilty of, he accused _Joshua_ with his filthy Garments, when through his Indulgence some of his Family had transgressed by unlawful Marriages, _Zach. 3.23._ with _Ezra. 10.18._ but also with such Crimes, as they are altogether free from. He represented the Primitive Christians as the vilest of men, and as if at their Meetings they did commit the most nefandous Villanies that ever were known; and that not only Innocent, but Eminently Pious Persons should thro' the malice of the Devil be accused with the Crime of Witchcraft, is no new thing. Such an Affliction did the Lord see meet to exercise the great _Athanasius_ with[16] only the Divine Providence did wonderfully vindicate him from that as well as from some other foul Aspersions. The _Waldenses_ (altho' the Scriptures call them _Saints_, _Rev. 13.7._) have been traduced by Satan and by the World as horrible Witches; so have others in other places, only because they have done extraordinary things by their Prayers: It is by many Authors related, that a City in _France_ was molested with a Diabolical _Spectre_, which the People were wont to call _Hugon_; near that place a number of Protestants were wont to meet to serve God, whence the Professors of the true reformed Religion were nic-named _Hugonots_, by the Papists, who designed to render them before the World, as the Servants and Worshippers of that _Dæmon_, that went under the name of _Hugon_. And how often have I read in Books written by Jesuits, that _Luther_ was a Wizard, and that he did himself confess that he had familiarity with Satan! Most impudent Untruths! nor are these things to be wondered at, since the Holy Son of God himself was reputed a _Magician_, and one that had Familiarity with the greatest of Devils. The Blaspheming Pharisees said, _he casts out the Devils thro' the Prince of Devils_, _Matth. 9.34._ There is then not the best Saint on Earth (Man or Woman) that can assure themselves that the Devil shall not cast such an Imputation upon them. _It is enough for the Disciple that he be as his Master, and the Servant as his Lord: If they have called the Master of the House Beelzebub, how much more them of his Household_, _Matth. 10.25._ It is not for men to determine how far the Holy God may permit the wicked one to proceed in his Accusations. The sacred story of _Job_ giveth us to understand, that the Lord whose ways are past finding out, does for wise and holy Ends suffer Satan by immediate Operation, (and consequently by Witchcraft) greatly to afflict innocent Persons, as in their Bodies and Estates, so in their Reputations. I shall mention but one Scripture more to confirm the Truth in hand: It is that in _Eccles. 9.2, 3._ where it is said, _All things come alike to all, there is one event to the Righteous and to the Wicked, as is the Good, so is the Sinner, this is an evil amongst all things under the Sun, that there is one Event happeneth to all._ And in _Eccles. 7.15._ 'tis said, _There is a just man that perisheth in his Righteousness._ From hence we infer, that there is no outward Affliction whatsoever but may befal a good Man; now to be represented by Satan as a Tormentor of Bewitched or Possessed Persons, is a sore Affliction to a good man. To be tormented by Satan is a sore Affliction, yet nothing but what befel _Job_, and a Daughter of _Abraham_, whom we read of in the Gospel: To be represented by Satan as tormenting others, is an Affliction like the former; the Lord may bring such extraordinary Temptations on his own Children, to afflict and humble them, for some Sin they have been guilty of before him. A most wicked Person in St. _Ives_, got a Knife, and went with it to a Ministers House, designing to stab him, but was disappointed; afterwards Conscience being awakened, the Devil appears to this Person in the Shape of that Minister, with a Knife in his hand exhorting to Self-murder: Was not here a Punishment suitable to the Sin which that Person had been guilty of? Perhaps some of those whom Satan has represented as committing Witchcrafts, have been tampering with some foolish and wicked Sorceries, tho' not to that degree, which is Criminal and Capital by the Laws both of God and Men; for this Satan may be permitted so to scourge them; or it may be, they have misrepresented and abused others, for which cause the Holy God may justly give Satan leave falsely to represent them. Have we not known some that have bitterly censured all that have been complained of by bewitched Persons, saying it was impossible they should not be guilty; soon upon which themselves or some near Relations of theirs, have been to the lasting Infamy of their Families, accused after the same manner, and Personated by the Devil! Such tremendous Rebukes on a few, should make all men to be careful how they joyn with Satan in Condemning the Innocent. Arg. 2. _Because it is possible for the Devil in the Shape of an innocent Person to do other mischiefs._ As for those who acknowledge that Satan may personate a pious Person, but not to do mischief, their Opinion has been confuted by more than a few unhappy Instances. Mr. _Clark_[17] speaks of a Man that had been an Atheist, or a Sadduce, not believing that there are any Devils or any (to us) invisible World; this Man was converted, but as a Punishment of his Infidelity, evil Angels did often appear to him in the Shape of his most intimate Friends, and would sometimes seduce him into great Inconveniences. It has been elsewhere, and but now noted, that a _Dæmon_ in the shape of excellent Mr. _Dury_ appeared to the _Turkish Chaos_, _Anno. 1658._ to disswade him from prosecuting his desires of Baptism into the Name of Christ: Also to Mr. _Earle_ in the likeness of his Friends, to discourage him from doing things lawful and good. A multitude of _Jews_ were once deluded by a Person pretending to be _Moses_ from Heaven, and that if they would follow him they should pass safe through the Sea (as did their Fathers of old through the Red Sea) whereby great numbers of them were deceived and perished in the Waters. [18]Learned and judicious Men have concluded that this _Moses Creensis_ was a _Dæmon_, transforming himself into _Moses_: And that the Devil has frequently appeared[19] in the shape of famous Persons to the end that he might seduce Men into Idolatry, (a Sin equal to that of Witchcraft) no Man that has made it his Concern to enquire into things of this nature can be ignorant. Many Examples of this kind are collected by Mr. _Bromhall_ in his _Treatise of Spectres, and the cunning Devil, to strengthen Men in their worshipping of Saints departed:_ And by Mr. _Bovet_ in his _Pandemonium_. It is credibly reported that the Devil in the likeness of a faithful Minister (as St. _Ives_ before mentioned, near _Boston_ in _Lincolnshire_) came to one that was in trouble of Mind, telling her the longer she lived, the worse it would be for her; and therefore advising her to Self-murder: An eminent Person still living had the account of this Matter from Mr. _Cotton_ (the famous Teacher of both _Bostons_.) He was well acquainted with that Minister, who related to him the whole Story, with all the Circumstances of it: For Mr. _Cotten_ was so affected with the Report, as to take a Journey on purpose to the Town where this happened, that so he might obtain a satisfactory account about it, which he did. Some Authors say, that a _Dæmon_ appeared in the form of _Sylvanus_ (_Hierom's_ Friend) attempting a dishonest thing, the Devil thereby designing to blast the Reputation of a famous Bishop. I have in another Book mentioned that celebrated Instance concerning an honest Citizen in _Zurick_ (the Metropolis of _Helvetia_) in whose shape the Devil appeared, committing an abominable Fact (not fit to be named) very early in the Morning, seen by the Prefect of the City, and his Servant; they were amazed to behold a Man of good Esteem for his Conversation, perpetrating a thing so vile and abominable; but going from the _Spectre_ in the Field, to the Citizen's House in the Town, they found him at home, and in his Bed, nor had he been abroad that Morning, which convinced them, that what they saw was an Illusion of the Devil: This Passage is mentioned as a thing known and certain by _Lavater_ in his Treatise of _Spectres_,[20] who was a most learned and judicious Preacher in that City. Our _Juel_ saith of him, that he must ingeniously confess, that he never understood _Solomon's Proverbs_ until _Lavater_ expounded them to him: That Book of his _De Spectris_ hath been published in _Latin_, High and Low _Dutch_, _French_, _Italian_. The learned _Zanchy_[21] speaks highly of it, professing that he had read it both with Pleasure and Profit. _Voetius_[22] takes notice of that passage which we have quoted out of _Lavater_ as a thing memorable. Some Popish Authors argue, That the Devil cannot personate an innocent Man as doing an act of Witchcraft, because then he might as well represent them as committing Theft, Murder, _&c._ And if so, there would be no living in the World: But I turn the Argument against them, he may (as the mentioned Instances prove) personate honest Men as doing other Evils; and no solid Reason can be given why he may not as well personate them under the Notion of Witches, as under the Notion of Thieves, Murderers, and Idolaters: As for the Objection, that then there would be no living in the World, we shall consider it under the next Argument. Arg. 3. _If Satan may not represent one that is not a Covenant Servant of his, as afflicting those that are bewitched or possessed, then it is either because he wants Will, or Power to do this, or because God will never permit him thus to do._ No man but a Sadduce doubts of the ill will of Devils; nothing is more pleasing to the Malice of those wicked Spirits than to see Innocency wronged: And the Power of the Enemy is such, as that having once obtained a Divine Concession to use his Art, he can do this and much more than this amounts unto: We know by Scripture-Revelation, that the Sorcerers of _Egypt_ caused many untrue and delusive [23]Representations before _Pharaoh_ and his Servants. _Exod. 7.11, 22._ and _8.7._ And we read of the working of Satan in all Power and Signs, and lying Wonders. _2 Thess. 2.9._ His Heart is beyond what the wisest of Men may pretend unto: He has perfect skill in Opticks, and can therefore cause that to be visible to one, which is not so to another, and things also to appear far otherwise then they are: He has likewise the Art of Limning in the Perfection of it, and knows what may be done by Colours. It is an odd passage[24] which I find in the _Acta Eruditorum_, printed by _Lipsick_, that about Thirty-two Years ago an indigent Merchant in _France_ was instructed by a _Dæmon_, that with Water of _Borax_ he might colour Taffities, so as to cause them to glister and look very gay: He searcheth into the Nature, Causes, and Reasons of things, whereby he is able to produce wonderful effects. So that if he does not form the Shape of an innocent Person as afflicting others, it is not from want of either will or power. They that affirm, that God never did, nor ever will permit him thus to do, alledge that it is inconsistent with the Righteousness and Providence of God, in governing Humane Affairs thus to suffer Men to be imposed on: It must be acknowledged[25] that the Divine Providence has taken care, that the greatest part of Mankind shall not be left to unavoidable Deception, so as to be always abused by the mischievous Agents of Hell, in the Objects of plain Sence: But yet it is not for sinful and silly Mortals to prescribe Rules to the most High in his Government of the World, or to direct him how far he may permit Satan to use his power: I am apt to think that there are some amongst us, who if they had lived in _Job's_ days, and seen the Devil tormenting of him, and heard him complaining of being scared with Dreams, and terrified with Night-visions, they would have joined with his uncharitable Friends in censuring him as a most guilty Person: But we should consider, that the most high God doth sometimes deal with Men in a way of absolute Sovereignty, performing the thing which is appointed for them, and many such things are with him: If he does destroy the _perfect with the wicked, and laugh at the tryal of the innocent_, (_Job 9.22, 23._) Who shall enter into his Councils! who has given him a Charge over the Earth! or who has disposed the whole World! Men are not able to give an account of his ordinary Works, much less of his secret Counsels, and the dark Dispensations of his Providence: They do but darken Counsel by Words without Knowledge when they undertake it: If we are not able to see how this or that can stand with the Righteousness of him that governs the World, shall we say that the Almighty will pervert Judgment? or that he that governs the Earth hateth Right? Shall we condemn him that is most just? But whereas 'tis objected; where is Providence? And how shall Men live on the Earth, if the Devil may be permitted to use such Power? I demand, where was Providence, when Satan had Power to cause Sons of _Belial_ to lye and swear away the Life of innocent _Naboth_, laying such Crimes to his charge as he was never guilty of? And what an Hour of Darkness was it? How far was the Power of Hell permitted to prevail, when Christ the Son of God was accused, condemned, and hanged for a Crime that he never was guilty of? That was the strangest Providence that has happened since the World began, and yet in the Issue the most glorious: We must therefore distinguish between what does ordinarily come to pass by the Providence of God, and things which are extraordinary: It is not an usual thing for a _Naboth_ to have his Life taken from him by false Accusations, or for an _Athanasius_ or a _Susanna_ to be charged, and perhaps brought before Courts of Judicature for Crimes of which they were altogether innocent. But if we therefore conclude, that such a thing as this can never happen in the World, we shall offend against the Generation of the Just: It is not ordinary for Devils to be permitted to reveal the secret Sins of Men; yet this has been done more than once or twice: Nor is it ordinary for _Dæmons_ to steal Money out of Mens Pockets, and Purses, or Wine and Cyder out of their Cellars. Yet some such Instances have there been amongst our selves. It is not usual for Providence to permit the Devil to come from Hell and to throw Fire on the tops of Houses, and to cause a whole Town to be burnt to Ashes thereby; there would (it must be confessed) be no living in the World, if evil Angels should be permitted to do thus when they had a mind to it; nevertheless, Authors worthy of Credit, tell us, that this has sometimes happened. Both _Erasmus_[26] and _Cardanus_ write that the Town of _Schiltach_ in _Germany_, was in the Month of _April_, 1533. set on fire by a Devil, and burnt to the ground in an Hour's space: 'Tis also reported by _Sigibert_, _Aventinus_ and others, that some Cottages and Barns in a Town called _Bingus_ were fired by a wicked _Genius_; that spiteful _Dæmon_ said it was for the Impieties of such a Man whom he named, that he was sent to molest them: The poor Man to satisfie his Neighbours, who were ready to Stone him, carried an hot Iron in his Hand, but receiving no hurt thereby, he was judged to be innocent. It is not ordinary for a Devil upon the dying Curse of a Servant, to have a Commission from Heaven to tear and torment a bloody cruel Master; yet such a thing may possibly come to pass. There is a fearful Story to this purpose, in the account of the _Bucuneers_ of _America_,[27] wherein my Author relates that a Servant, who was _Spirited_ or _Kidnapt_ (as they call it) into _America_, falling into the Hands of a Tyrannical Master, he ran away from him, but being taken and brought back, the hard-hearted Tyrant lashed him on his naked Back, until his Body ran in an entire stream of Blood; to make the Torment of this miserable Creature intolerable, he anointed his Wounds with Juice of Lemon mingled with Salt and Pepper, being ground small together, with which torture the miserable Wretch gave up the Ghost, with these dying Words, _I beseech the Almighty God, Creator of Heaven and Earth, that he permit a wicked Spirit, to make thee feel as many Torments before thy Death, as thou hast caused me to feel before mine:_ Scarce four days were past after this horrible Fact, when the Almighty Judge gave Permission to the Father of Wickedness to possess the Body of that cruel Master, and to make him lacerate his own Flesh until he died, belike surrendring his Ghost into the Hands of the infernal Spirit, who had tormented his Body: But of this Tragical Story enough. To proceed, Is it not usual for Persons after their Death to appear unto the Living: But it does not therefore follow, that the great God will not suffer this to be: For both in former and latter Ages, Examples thereof have not been wanting: No longer since than the last Winter, there was much discourse in _London_ concerning a Gentlewoman, unto whom her dead Son (and another whom she knew not) had appeared: Being then in _London_, I was willing to satisfie my self, by enquiring into the Truth of what was reported; and on _Febr. 23. 1691._ my Brother (who is now a Pastor to a Congregation in that City) and I discoursed the Gentlewoman spoken of; she told us, that a Son of hers, who had been a very civil young Man, but more airy in his Temper than was pleasing to his serious Mother, being dead, she was much concerned in her Thoughts about his Condition in the other World; but a Fortnight after his Death he appeared to her, saying, _Mother you are solicitous about my Spiritual Welfare; trouble your self no more, for I am happy_, and so vanished; should there be a continual Intercourse between the Visible and Invisible World, it would breed Confusion. But from thence to infer, that the great Ruler of the Universe will never permit any thing of this nature to be, is an inconsequent Conclusion; it is not usual for Devils to be permitted to come and violently carry away persons through the Air, several miles from their Habitations: Nevertheless, this was done in _Sweedland_ about twenty Years ago, by means of a cursed Knot of Witches there. And a learned Physician now living, giveth an account of several Children, who by Diabolical Frauds were stollen from their Parents, and others left in their room: And of two, that in the night-time a Line was by invisible Hands put about their Necks, with which they had been strangled, but that some near them happily prevented it. _V. Germ. Ephem. Anno 1689._ pag. 51. 516. Let me further add here; It has very seldom been known, that Satan has Personated innocent Men doing an ill thing, but Providence has found out some way for their Vindication; either they have been able to prove that they were in another place when that Fact was done, or the like. So that perhaps there never was an Instance of any innocent Person Condemned in any Court of Judicature on Earth, only through Satans deluding and imposing on the Imaginations of Men, when nevertheless, the Witnesses, Juries, and Judges, were all to be excused from blame. Arg. 4. _It is certain both from Scripture and History, that Magicians by their Inchantments and Hellish Conjurations, may cause a false Representation of Persons and Things._ An inchanted eye shall see such things as others cannot discern; it is a thing too well known to be denied, that some by rubbing their eyes with a bewitched Water, have immediately thereupon seen that which others could not discern; and there are Persons in the World, who have a strange _Spectral sight_. Mr. _Glanvil_[28] speaks of a Dutchman that could see Ghosts which others could perceive nothing of. There are in _Spain_ a sort of men whom they call _Zahurs_, these can see into the Bowels of the Earth; they are able to discover Minerals and hidden Treasures; nevertheless, they have their extraordinary sight only on _Tuesdays_ and _Fridays_, and not on the other days of the Week. _Delrio_ saith, that when he was at _Madrid_, _Anno Dom. 1575._ he saw some of these strange sighted Creatures. Mr. _George Sinclare_, in his Book Entituled, _Satans Invisible World discovered_,[29] has these Words, 'I am undoubtedly informed, that men and women in the High-lands can discern Fatality approaching others, by seeing them in the Waters or with Winding Sheets about them. And that others can lecture in a Sheeps shoulder-bone a Death within the Parish seven or eight Days before it come. It is not improbable but that such Preternatural Knowledge comes first by a Compact with the Devil, and is derived downward by Succession to their Posterity: Many such I suppose are Innocent, and have this sight against their Will and Inclination.' Thus Mr. _Sinclare_, I concur with his supposal, that such Knowledge is originally from Satan, and perhaps the Effect of some old Inchantment. There are some at this day in the World, that if they come into a House where one of the Family will die within a Fortnight, the smell of a dead Corpse offends them to such a degree, as that they cannot stay in that House. It is reported that near unto the Abby of St. _Maurice_ in _Burgundy_[30] there is a Fishpond in which are Fishes put according to the number of the Monks of that place; if any one of them happened to be sick, there is a Fish seen to Float and Swim above Water half dead, and if the Monk shall die, the Fish a few days before dieth. In some parts in _Wales_ Death-lights or Corps Candles (as they call them) are seen in the night time going from the House where some body will shortly die, and passing in to the Church-yard. Of this, my Honoured and never to be forgotten Friend Mr. _Richard Baxter_,[31] has given an Account in his Book about Witchcrafts lately Published: what to make of such things, except they be the effects of some old Inchantment, I know not; nor what Natural Reason to assign for that which I find amongst the Observations of the _Imperial Academy_ for the Year 1687, _viz._ That in an Orchard where are choice _Damascen_ Plumbs, the Master of the Family being sick of a _Quartan Ague_, whilst he continued very ill, four of his Plumb-trees instead of Damascens brought forth a vile sort of yellow Plumbs: but recovering Health, the next Year the Tree did (as formerly) bear Damascens again; but when after that he fell into a fatal Dropsie, on those Trees were seen not Damascens, but another sort of Fruit. The same Author[32] gives Instances of which he had the certain knowledge, concerning Apple-trees and Pear-trees, that the Fruit of them would on a sudden wither as if they had been baked in an Oven, when the owners of them were mortally sick. It is no less strange that in the Illustrious Electoral[33] House of _Brandenburg_ before the Death of some one of the Family Feminine Spectres appeared: [34]and often in the Houses of Great men, Voices and Visions from the Invisible World have been the Harbingers of Death. When any Heir in the Worshipful Family of the _Breertons_ in _Cheshire_ is near his Death, there are seen in a Pool adjoyning, Bodies of Trees swimming for certain days together, on which Learned _Cambden_[35] has this note, _These and such like things are done either by the Holy Tutelar Angels of Men, or else by the Devils, who by Gods Permission mightily shew their Power in this Inferiour World._ As for Mr. _Sinclare's_ Notion that some Persons may have a _second Sight_, (as 'tis termed) and yet be themselves Innocent, I am satisfied that he judgeth right; for this is common amongst the _Laplanders_, who are horribly addicted to Magical Incantations: They bequeath their _Dæmons_ to their Children as a Legacy, by whom they are often assisted (like Bewitched Persons as they are) to see and do things beyond the Power of Nature. An Historian who deserves Credit, relates,[36] that a certain _Laplander_ gave him a true and particular Account of what had happened to him in his Journey to _Lapland_; and further complained to him with Tears, that things at great distance were represented to him, and how much he desired to be Delivered from that Diabolical Sight, but could not; this doubtless was caused by some Inchantment. But to proceed to what I intend; the Eyes of Persons by reason of Inchanting Charms, may not only see what others do not, but be under such power of Fascination, as that things which are not, shall appear to them as real: The Apostle speaks of _Bewitched Eyes_, _Gal. 3.1._ and we know from Scripture, that the Imaginations of men have by Inchantments been imposed upon; and Histories abound with very strange Instances of this Nature: The old Witch _Circe_ by an Inchanted Cup caused _Ulysses_ his Companions to imagine themselves to be turned into Swine; and how many Witches have been themselves so bewitched by the Devil, as really to believe that they were transformed into Wolves, or Dogs, or Cats. It is reported of _Simon Magus_,[37] that by his Sorceries he would so impose on the Imaginations of People, as that they thought he had really changed himself into another sort of Creature. _Opollonius_ of _Tyana_ could out do _Simon_ with his Magick: The great _Bohemian_ Conjurer _Zyto_[38] by his Inchantments, caused certain Persons whom he had a mind to try his Art upon, to imagine that their Hands were turned into the Feet of an Ox, or into the Hoofs of a Horse, so that they could not reach to the Dishes before them to take any thing thence; he sold Wisps of Straw to a Butcher who bought them for Swine; that many such prestigious Pranks were played, by the unhappy _Faustus_, is attested by _Camerarius_, _Wyerus_, _Voetius_, _Lavater_, and _Lonicer_. There is newly Published a Book (mentioned in the _Acta Eruditorum_) wherein the Author [39](_Wiechard Valvassor_) relates, that a _Venetian_ Jew instructed him (only he would not attend his Instructions) how to make a Magical Glass which should represent any Person or thing according as he should desire. If a Magician by an Inchanted Glass can do this, he may as well by the help of a Dæmon cause false _Idæas_ of Persons and Things to be impressed on the Imaginations of bewitched Persons; the Blood and Spirits of a Man, that is bitten with a Mad-Dog, are so envenomed, as that strange Impressions are thereby made on his Imagination: let him be brought into a Room where there is a Looking-Glass, and he will (if put upon it) not only say but swear that he sees a Dog, tho' in truth there is no Dog it may be within 20 Miles of him; and is it not then possible for the Dogs of Hell to poyson the Imaginations of miserable Creatures, so as that they shall believe and swear that such Persons hurt them as never did so? I have heard of an Inchanted Pin, that has caused the Condemnation and Death of many scores of innocent Persons. There was a notorious _Witchfinder_ in _Scotland_, that undertook by a Pin, to make an infallible Discovery of suspected Persons, whether they were Witches or not, if when the Pin was run an Inch or two into the Body of the accused Party no Blood appeared, nor any sense of Pain, then he declared them to be Witches; by means hereof my Author tells me no less then 300 persons were Condemned for Witches in that Kingdom. This Bloody Jugler after he had done enough in _Scotland_, came to the Town of _Berwick_ upon _Tweed_; an honest Man now living in _New-England_ assureth me, that he saw the Man thrust a great Brass Pin two Inches into the Body of one, that some would in that way try whether there was Witchcraft in the Case or no: the accused Party was not in the least sensible of what was done, and therefore in danger of receiving the Punishment justly due for Witchcraft; only it so happened, that Collonel _Fenwick_ (that worthy Gentleman, who many years since lived in _New-England_) was then the Military Governour in that Town; he sent for the Mayor and Magistrates advising them to be careful and cautious in their proceedings; for he told them, it might be an Inchanted Pin, which the Witchfinder made use of: Whereupon the Magistrates of the place ordered that he should make his Experiment with some other Pin as they should appoint: But that he would by no means be induced unto, which was a sufficient Discovery of the Knavery and Witchery of the Witchfinder. There is a strange Diabolical Energy goeth along with _Incantations_. If _Balak_ had not known that he would not have sent for _Balaam_, to see whether he could inchant the Children of _Israel_. The Scripture intimates that Inchantments will keep a Serpent from biting, _Eccles. 10.11._ A Witch in _Sweedland_ confessed, that the Devil gave her a wooden Knife; and that if she did but touch any living thing with that Knife, it would die immediately: And that there is a wonderful Power of the Devil attending things inchanted, we have confirmed by a prodigious Instance in Major _Weir_, a _Scotch_ Man: That wretched Man was a perfect Prodigy; a Man of great Parts; esteemed a Saint, yet lived in secret Uncleanness with his own Sister for thirty four Years together: After his wickedness was discovered, he did not seem to be troubled at any of his Crimes, excepting that he had caused a poor Woman to be publickly whipped, because she reported that she had seen him committing Bestiality; which thing was true, only the Woman could not prove it. This horrid Creature, if he had his _Inchanted Staff_ in his Hand could pray to admiration, and do extraordinary things, as is more amply related in the Postscript to Mr. _Sinclares_ his Book before mentioned: But if he had not his Inchanted Rod to lean upon, he could not transform himself into an Angel of Light: But by all these things we may conclude, that it is not impossible, but that a guilty Conjurer, that so he may render himself the less suspected, may by his Magical Art and Inchantment, cause innocent Persons to be represented as afflicting those whom the Devil and himself are the Tormentors of. Arg. 5. _The Truth we affirm is so evident, as that many Learned and Judicious Men have freely subscribed unto it._ The memorable Relation of the Devils assuming the shape of an innocent Citizen in _Zurick_, is in the Judgment of that great Divine _Lud Lavater_, of weighty Consideration: And he declares, that he does therefore mention it, that so Judges might be cautelous in their Proceedings in Cases of this nature, inasmuch as the Devil does often in that way intangle innocent Persons, and bring them into great Troubles. His Words are, [40]_Hanc Historiam ideo recito, ut Judices, in hujusmodi, Casibus cauti sint: Diabolus enim hac via sæpe innocentibus insidiatur._ He confirms what he saith by reciting a Passage out of _Alertus Granzius_, who writes that the Devil was seen in the shape of a Nobleman to come out of the Empress's Chamber: But to clear her Innocency, she (according to the superstitious _Ordeals_ then in fashion) walked blindfold over a great many of glowing hot Irons without touching any of them. _Voetius_ in his [41]Disputation of _Spectres_ proposeth that Question, whether the Devil may not untruly personate a Godly Man, and answers in the Affirmative: And withal adds, that it is a sufficient Argument (_ad hominem_) to answer the Papists with their own Histories, which give Instances of Satan's appearing in the Figure of Saints, nay of Christ himself. And in his Discourse concerning the _Operations of Dæmons_[42] he has the like _Problem_, whether the Devil may not possibly put on the shape of a true Believer, a real Saint, not only of such as are dead, but still living, and answers, _Quidni?_ Why not? It is true Popish _Casuists_[43] do generally incline to the Negative in this Question: Nevertheless, the Instance of _Germanus_, who saw a Company of honest People represented by the Devil, as if they had been feasting together, when they were really asleep in their Beds, does a little puzzle them, so as that they are necessitated to take up with this Conclusion, [44]_That by an extraordinary Permission of God, innocent Persons may be represented by Satan in the Nocturnal Conventicles of Witches:_ And if so, much more as afflicting bewitched Persons. _Delrio_ giveth an account of an innocent Monk, whose Reputation was indangered by a _Dæmon's_ appearing in his shape. He writes more like a Divine than Jesuits use to do, when he saith that, [45]_It is not absolutely to be denied, but that the Devils may exhibite the Forms of innocent Persons, if God permit it, who when he does permit it, usually by some Providence discovers the Fraud of the Devils, that so the Innocent may be vindicated, or if not, it is to bring them to repentance for some Sin, or to try their Patience._ It is rare to see such Words dropping from the Pen of a Jesuit: As for Protestant Writers, I cannot call to mind one of any Note, that does deny the Possibility of the Affirmative, in the Question before us. Dr. _Henkelius_ has lately [46]published a learned and elaborate Discourse concerning the right Method of curing such as are obsessed with _Cacodæmons_, in which he asserts, that _Satan may possibly assume the Form of innocent and pious Persons, that so he might thereby destroy their Reputations, and expose them to undue Punishments._ As for our _English_ Divines, there are not many greater _Casuists_ than Mr. _Perkins_; nor do I know any one that has written on the Case of Witchcraft with more Judgment and Clearness of Understanding: He has these Words,[47] "If a Man being dangerously sick and like to die upon suspicion, will take it on his death, that such an one has bewitched him, it is an allegation which may move the Judge to examine the Party, but it is of no moment for Conviction." The like is asserted by [48]Mr. _Cooper_, Mr. _Bernard_, (once a famous Minister at _Batcomb_ in _Somerset_) his Book called _A Guide to Grand Jury-men in Cases of Witchcraft_, is a solid and wise Treatise. What his Judgment was in the Case now under debate, we may see, _pag._ 209, 210. where his Words are these; "An Apparation of the Party suspected, whom the Afflicted in their Fits seem to see, is a great suspicion; yet this is but a presumption, tho' a strong one, because these Apparitions are wrought by the Devil, who can represent to the Phansie such as the Parties use to fear, in which his representation he may well lye as in his other Witness: For if the Devil can represent to the Witch a seeming _Samuel_, saying, I see Gods ascending out of the Earth, to beguile _Saul_, may we not think he can represent a common ordinary Person, Man or Woman unregenerate, tho' no Witch to the Phansie of vain Persons, to deceive them and others that will give Credit to the Devil." Thus Mr. _Bernard_. As for the Judgment of the Elders in _New-England_, so far as I can learn, they do generally concur with Mr. _Perkins_, and Mr. _Bernard_. This I know, that at a Meeting of Ministers at _Cambridge_, _August 1. 1692._ where were present seven elders besides the President of the _Colledge_, the Question then discoursed on, was, _Whether the Devil may not sometimes have a Permission to represent an innocent Person as tormenting such as are under Diabolical Molestations?_ The Answer which they all concurred in, was in these words, _viz._ _That the Devil may sometimes have a Permission to represent an innocent Person as tormenting such as are under Diabolical Molestations; but that such things are rare and extraordinary, especially when such Matters come before Civil Judicatures:_ And that some of the most eminent Ministers in the Land, who were not at that Meeting are of the same Judgment, I am assured: And I am also sure, that in Cases of this nature the _Priest's Lips should keep Knowledge, and they should seek the Law at his Mouth_, _Mal. 2.7._ Arg. 6. _Our own Experience has confirmed the Truth of what we affirm._ I have in another Book given an account concerning _Elizabeth Knap_ of _Groton_, who complained that a Woman as eminent for Piety as any in that Town, did appear to her, and afflict her: But afterwards she was satisfied that that Person never did her any harm, but that the Devil abused them both. About two Years ago, a bewitched Person in _Chelmsford_ in her Fits, complained that a worthy good Man, a near Relation of hers did afflict her: So did she likewise complain of another Person in that town of known integrity and Piety. I have my self known several of whom I ought to think that they are now in Heaven, considering that they were of good Conversation, and reputed Pious by those that had the greatest Intimacy with them, of whom nevertheless, some complained that their Shapes appeared to them, and threatned them: Nor is this answered by saying, we do not know but those Persons might be Witches: We are bound by the Rule of Charity to think otherwise: And they that censure any, meerly because such a sad Affliction as their being falsly represented by Satan has befallen them, do not do as they would be done by. I bless the Lord, it was never the portion allotted to me, nor to any Relation of mine to be thus abused: But no Man knoweth what may happen to him, since _there be just Men unto whom it happeneth according to the Work of the Wicked_, _Eccles. 8.14._ But what needs more to be said, since there is one amongst our selves whom no Man that knows him, can think him to be a Wizzard, whom yet some bewitched Persons complained of, that they are in his Shape tormented: And the Devils have of late accused some eminent Persons. It is an awful thing which the Lord has done to convince some amongst us of their Error: This then I declare and testifie, that to take away the Life of any one, meerly because a _Spectre_ or Devil, in a bewitched or possessed Person does accuse them, will bring the Guilt of innocent Blood on the Land, where such a thing shall be done: Mercy forbid that it should, (and I trust that as it has not it never will be so) in _New-England_. What does such an Evidence amount unto more than this: Either such an one did afflict such an one, or the Devil in his likeness, or his Eyes were bewitched. The things which have been mentioned make way for, and bring us unto the second Case, which is to come under our Consideration, _viz._ _If one bewitched is struck down at the Look or cast of the Eye of another, and after that recovered again by a Touch from the same Person, Is not this an infallible Proof, that the Person suspected and complained of is in League with the Devil?_ _Answer;_ It must be owned that by such things as these Witchcrafts and Witches have been discovered more than once or twice: And that an ill Fame, or other Circumstances attending the suspected Party, this may be a Ground for Examination; but this alone does not afford sufficient Matter for Conviction: As _Spectres_ or _Devils_ appearing in the Shapes of Men that have been murdered, declaring that they were murdered by such Persons and in such a place, may give just occasion to the Magistrate for Enquiry into the Matter: One great Witch-Advocate[49] confesseth, that by this means Murders have been brought to light; yet that alone, if other Circumstances did not concur, would not by the Law of God take away the Life of any Man. If my Reader pleaseth, he shall hear what old Mr. _Bernard_ of _Batcomb_ saith to a Case not unlike to this, and the former: His Words are these,[50] 'The naming of the suspected in their Fits, and also where they have been, and what they have done here or there, as Mr. _Throgmorton's_ Children could do, and that often and ever found true; this is a great Presumption: yet is this but a Presumption, because this is only the Devils Testimony, who can lie, and that more often than speak Truth. Christ would not allow his Witness of him in a point most true; nor St. _Paul_ in the due Praises of him and _Sylas_; his Witness then may not be received as sufficient in case of ones Life: He may accuse an Innocent, as I shewed before in Mr. _Edmund's_ giving over his Practice to find Stollen Goods; and Satan we read would accuse _Job_ to God himself to be an Hypocrite, and to be ready to be a Blasphemer, and he is called the Accuser of the Brethren. Albeit, I cannot deny but this has very often proved true, yet seeing the Devil is such an one as you heard, Christian Men should not take his Witness, to give in Verdict upon Oath, and so swear that the Devil has therein spoken the Truth; be it far from good men to confirm any Word of the Devil by Oath, if it be not an evident Truth without the Devil's Testimony, who in speaking the Truth, has a lying Intent, and speaks some Truths of things done, which may be found to be so, that he may wrap with them some pernicious Lye, which cannot be tried to be true, but must rest upon his own testimony to ensnare the Blood of the Innocent.' Thus Mr. _Bernard_ resolved the Case above sixty Years ago; and truly in my Opinion like a Wise and Orthodox Divine, what he says, reacheth both this and the former Case. Dr. _Cotta_ (a Learned Physician) in his Book, about _The Tryal of Witchcraft, shewing the true and right Method of the Discovery, with a Confutation of Erroneous ways_ (which Book he dedicates to the Right Honourable Sir _Edward Cook_, Lord Chief Justice of _England_,)[51] He discourses concerning _Exploration of Witches by the touch of the Witch curing the touched bewitched_, and sheweth the Fallibility and Vanity of that way of Tryal, tho' he had often seen Persons bewitched in that way immediately delivered from the present Fit or Agony which was upon them: But he taketh it to be a Diabolical Miracle. He argueth thus,[52] 'No Man can doubt but that the Vertue wherewith this touch was indued, is supernatural: If it be so, How can man to whom nothing is simply possible that is not natural be justly reputed an Agent therein? If he cannot be esteemed in himself any possible or true Agent, then it remaineth that he can only be interested therein as an Accessary in Consent, or as a Servant unto a Superior Power: If that Superior Power be the Devil, the least reasonable doubt, whether the Devil alone, or with the Consent or Contract of the suspected Person has produced that wonderful effect; with what Religion or Reason can any Man incline rather to credit the Devil's mouth in the Bewitched, than to pity the Accused, and believe them against the subtility of a deceitful Devil: If the Devil by Divine Permission may cause supernatural Concomitances and Consequences to attend the natural Actions of Men without their allowance, as is manifest in possessed Persons, how is it reasonable and just that the Impositions of the Devil should be imputed unto any Man: And (saith he) God forbid that the Devil's Signs and Wonders, nay his Truths should become any legal Allegations or Evidences in Law. We may therefore conclude it unjust, that the forenamed miraculous Effect by the Devil wrought and imputed by the Bewitched, should be esteemed an infallible mark against any Man, as therefore convinced for that the Devil and the Bewitched have so decyphered him!' Thus that Learned Man. But to the Case in hand, I have several things to offer. 1. _It is possible that the Persons in Question may be possessed with Cacodæmons:_ That bewitched Persons are many times really possessed with evil Spirits, is most certain. And as Mr. _Perkins_ observes, no Man can prove but that Witchcraft might be the Cause of many of those Possessions, which we read of in the Gospel: And that Devils have been immitted into the Bodies of miserable Creatures by Magicians and Witches, Histories and Experience do abundantly testifie. _Hierom_[53] relates concerning a certain Virgin, that a young Man, whose Amours she despised, prevailed with a Magician to send an evil Spirit into her, by means whereof she was strangely besotted. 'Tis reported[54] of _Simon Magus_, that after he had used an Hellish Sacrifice, to be revenged of some that had called him a great Witch, he caused infernal Spirits to enter into them. Many confessing Witches have acknowledged, that they were the Cause of such and such Persons being possessed of evil Angels, as [55]_Thyræus_ and others have observed: Now no Credit ought to be given to what _Dæmons_ in such as are by them obsessed shall say. Our Saviour by his own unerring Example has taught us not to receive the Devil's Testimony in any thing. The Papists are justly condemned for bringing Diabolical Testimony to confirm the Principles of their Religion. _Peter Cotton_ the Jesuite[56] enquired of the Devil in a possessed Person, what was the clearest Scripture to prove Purgatory. At the time when _Luther_ died, all the possessed People in the _Netherlands_ were quiet: The Devils in them, said the Reason was, because _Luther_[57] had been a great Friend of theirs, and they owed him that respect as to go as far as _Germany_ to attend his Funeral. Another time when there was a talk of some Ministers of the Reformed Religion, the Devils in the Obsessed laughed and said, they were not at all afraid of them, for the _Calvinists_ and they were very good Friends. The Jesuits insult with these Testimonies as if they were Divine Oracles: But the Father of Lyes is never to be believed: He will utter twenty great truths to make way for one lye: He will accuse twenty Witches, if he can but thereby bring one innocent Person into trouble: He mixeth Truths with Lyes, that so those truths giving credit unto lyes, Men may believe both, and so be deceived: And whereas some say, that the Persons in question are only bewitched and not possessed, let it be considered that possessed Persons are called _Energumens_ from #ERGOMAI# _Agitor_: They whose Bodies are preternaturally agitated, so as to be in danger of being thrown into the Fire, or into the Water, though they may be bewitched, are undoubtedly possessed with _Dæmons_, _Mark 9.22, 25._ Learned Men[58] give it as a most certain sign of Possession, when the afflicted Party can see and hear that which no one else can discern any thing of, and when they can discover [59]secret things, _Acts 6.16._ past, or future, [60]as a possessed Person in _Germany_ foretold the War which broke out in the Year, 1546. And when the Limbs of miserable Creatures, are bent and disjointed so as could not possible be without a Luxation of Joints, were it not done by a preternatural Hand, and yet no hurt raised thereby that argueth Possession. Also, when Persons are by the Devil cast into Fits, in the which they speak of things, that afterwards they have no remembrance of,[61] or, if they are by cruel Devils tortured, so as to cause horrendous Clamours in the distressed Sufferers, that's another sign of Obsession by evil Spirits: If all these things concur in the Persons concerning where the Question is, we may conclude them to be _Dæmoniacks_: And if so, no _Juror_ can with a safe Conscience look on the Testimony of such, as sufficient to take away the Life of any Man. 2. _Falling down by the cast of an Eye proceeds not from a natural, but an arbitrary Cause;_[62] not from any Poyson in the Eye of the Witch, but from the Agency of some _Dæmon_: The opinion of Fascination by the Eye is an old Fable, and (saith Mr. _Perkins_) as fond as old. _Pliny_[63] speaks of a People that killed folks by looking on them; and he adds, that they had two Apples in each Eye: and _Tully_ writes of women who had two Apples in one Eye that always did mischief with their meer looks; so _Ovid_, _Pupula duplex fulminat._ And _Plutarch_[64] writes that some persons have such a Poyson in their Eyes, as that their Friends and Familiars are Fascinated thereby; nay he speaks of one that Bewitched himself sick by looking on his own Face in a Glass: Others write of Fascination by a meer Prolation of Words; and for ought I know, there may be as much Witchery in the Tongue as there is in the Eye. _Sennertus_[65] has discovered the Superstition of these Fancies; Sight does not proceed from an Emission of Rays from the Eye, but by a reception of the visible Species; and if it be (as Philosophers conclude) an innocent Action and not an Emission of optick Spirits, so that sight as such, does receive something from the Object, and not act upon it, the Notion of Fascination by the Eye is unphilosophical: It is true, that sore Eyes will affect those that look upon them, _Dum spectant Oculi Læsos, Leduntur & ipsi_, for which a natural Reason is easily to be assigned; but if the Witches Eyes are thus infected with a natural Contagion, Whence is it, that only Bewitched Persons are hurt thereby? If the vulgar Error concerning the _Basilisks_ killing with the Look of his Poysonful Eye were a Truth, whatever person that Serpent cast his Eye upon would be poysoned. So if Witches had a physical Venom in their Eyes, others as well as Fascinated Persons would be sensible thereof; there is as much Truth in this fancy of Physical Venom in the Eye of a Witch, as there is in what _Pliny_[66] and others relate concerning the _Thibians_, _viz._ that they have two Apples in one Eye, and the Effigies of an Horse in the other Eye; and that they are a people that cannot be drowned. 3. _As for that which concerns the Bewitched Persons being recovered out of their Agonies by the Touch of the suspected Party, it is various and fallible._ For sometimes the afflicted Person is made sick, (instead of being made whole) by the Touch of the Accused; sometimes the Power of Imagination is such, as that the Touch of a Person innocent and not accused shall have the same effect. It is related in the Account of the Tryals of Witches at _Bury_ in _Suffolk_ 1664, during the time[67] of the Tryal, there were some Experiments made with the Persons afflicted, by bringing the accused to touch them, and it was observed that by the least Touch of one of the supposed Witches, they that were in their Fits, to all mens Apprehension wholly deprived of all Sense and Understandings, would suddenly shriek out and open their Hands. Mr. Serjeant _Keeling_ did not think that sufficient to Convict the Prisoners, for admitting that the Children were in truth Bewitched, yet (saith he) it cannot be applyed to the Prisoners upon the Imagination only of the Parties afflicted; for if that might be allowed, no Person whatsoever can be in safety, for perhaps they might fancy another Person who might altogether be innocent in such matters: To avoid this Scruple it was privately desired by the Judge, that some Gentlemen there in Court would attend one of the distempered Persons in the farther part of the Hall, whilst she was in her Fits, and then to send for one of the Witches to try what would happen, which they did accordingly. One of them was conveyed from the Bar, and brought to the Afflicted Maid. They put an Apron before her Eyes, and then another person (not the Witch) touched her, which produced the same effect, as the Touch of the Witch did in the Court. Whereupon the Gentlemen returned much unsatisfied. _Bodin_[68] relates, that a Witch who was Tryed at _Nants_, was commanded by the Judges to touch a Bewitched person, a thing often practised by the Judges of _Germany_ in the _Imperial Chamber_. The Witch was extreamly unwilling, but being Compelled by the Judges, she cryed out, _I am undone;_ and as soon as ever she touched the Afflicted person, the Witch fell down dead, and the other recovered. That horrid Witch of _Salisbury_, _Ann Bodenham_[69] who had been Servant to the Notorious Conjurer Dr. _Lamb_, could not bear the sight of one that was Bewitched by her. As soon as ever she saw the Afflicted Person, she ran about shrieking, and crying, and roaring after an hideous manner, that the Devil would tear her in pieces, if that person came near her. And whilst the Witch was in such Torment, the Bewitched was at ease. By these things we see, that the Laws and Customs of the Kingdom of darkness, are not always and in all places the same. And it is good for men to concern themselves with them as little as may be. I think there is weight in Dr. _Cotta's_[70] Argument, _viz._ _That the Gift of healing the Sick and Possessed, was a special Grace and Favour of God, for the Confirmation of the Truth of the Gospel, but that such a Gift should be annexed to the Touch of Wicked Witches, as an infallible sign of their guilt, is not easie to be believed._ It is a thing well known, that if a person possessed by an Evil Spirit, is (as oft it so happens) never so outragious whilst a good man is Praying with and for the Afflicted, let him lay his hand on them, and the Evil Spirit is quiet. I hope this is no evidence of any Covenant, or voluntary Communion between the Good Man that is Praying and the Evil Spirit; no more does the Case before us evince any such thing. 4. _There are that Question the Lawfulness of the Experiment._ For if this healing power in the Witch is not a Divine but a Diabolical Gift, it may be dangerous to meddle too much with it. If the Witch may be ordered to touch afflicted Persons in order to their healing or recovery out of a sick Fit, why may not the Diseased Person be as well ordered to touch the Witch for the same cause? And if to touch him, why not to scratch him and fetch Blood out of him, which is but an harder kind of touch? But as for this Mr. _Perkins_ doubts not to call it a _Practice of Witchcraft_. It is not safe to meddle with any of the Devils Sacraments or Institutions; _For my own part, I should be loath to say to a Man, that I knew or thought was a Witch, do you look on such a Person, and see if you can Witch them into a Fit, and there is such an afflicted Person do you take them by the Hand, and see if you can Witch them well again. If it is by vertue of some Contract with the Devil that witches have Power to do such things, it is hard to conceive how they can be bid to do them, without being too much concerned in that Hellish Covenant._ I take it to be (as elsewhere[71] I have expressed) a solid Principle, which the Learned _Sennertus_ insists on, _viz._ _That they who force another to do that which he cannot possibly do, but by vertue of a Compact with the Devil, have themselves implicitely Communion with the Diabolical Covenant._ The Devil is pleased and honoured when any of his Institutions are made use of; this way of discovering Witches, is no better than that of putting the Urine of the afflicted Person into a Bottle, that so the Witch may be tormented and discovered: The Vanity and Superstition of which practice I have formerly shewed, and testified against. _There was a Conjurer his name was +Edward Drake+[72] who taught a Man to use that Experiment for the Relief of his afflicted Daughter, who found benefit thereby;_ But we ought not to practice Witchcraft to discover Witches, nor may we make use of a _White healing Witch_ (as they call them) to find out a _Black and Bloody one_. And how did men first come to know that Witches would be discovered in such ways as these, which have been mentioned? If Satan himself were the first Discoverer (as there is reason to believe) the experiment must needs have deceit in it. See Dr. Willet on _Exod. 7._ _Quest. 9._ And such Experiments better become Pagans or Papists than Professors in _New-England_; whereas 'tis pleaded, that such things are practised by the Judges of the Imperial Chamber, I reply, that those Judges (as _Bodin_ relates, _Lib. 3. Dæmon. Cap. 6._) have required suspected Witches to pronounce over the afflicted persons, these words, _I bless thee in the Name of the Father, &c._ upon which they have immediately recovered; but is the dark day come upon us, that such Superstitions as these shall be practised in _New-England_: The Lord Jesus forbid it. See _Baldwin's_ Testimony against the Practice of the _Camera Imperialis_, Cas. Consc. L. 3. c. 3. p. 634. 5. _If the Testimony of a bewitched or possessed Person, is of validity as to what they see done to themselves, then it is so as to others, whom they see afflicted no less than themselves:_ But what they affirm concerning others, is not to be taken for Evidence. Whence had they this Supernatural Sight? It must needs be either from Heaven or from Hell: If from Heaven, (as _Elisha's_ Servant, and _Balaam's_ Ass could discern Angels) let their Testimony be received: But if they had this Knowledge from Hell, tho' there may possibly be truth in what they affirm, they are not legal Witnesses: For the Law of God allows of no Revelation from any other Spirit but himself, _Isa. 8.19._ It is a Sin against God to make use of the Devil's help to know that which cannot be otherwise known: And I testifie against it, as a great Transgression, which may justly provoke the Holy One of _Israel_, to let loose Devils on the whole Land, _Luke 4.35._ See Mr. _Bernard's_ Guide to Juries in Cases of Witchcraft, p. 136, 137, 138. And _Brockmand_, _Theol. de Angelis_, p. 227. Altho' the Devil's Accusations may be so far regarded as to cause an enquiry into the truth of things, _Job 1.11, 12. & 2.5, 6._ yet not so as to be an Evidence or Ground of Conviction: The Persons, concerning whom the Question is, see things through Diabolical Mediums; on which account their Evidence is not meer humane Testimony; and if it be in any part Diabolical, it is not to be owned as Authentick; for the Devil's Testimony ought not to be received neither in whole nor in part. 6. I am told by credible Persons, who say it is certainly true, that a bewitched Person has complained that she was cast into Fits by the Look of a Dog; and that she was no more able to bear the sight of that Dog, than of the Person whom she accused as bewitching her: And that thereupon the Dog was shot to death: This Dog was no Devil; for then they could not have killed him. I suppose no one will say that Dogs are Witches: It remains then that the casting down with the Look is no infallible sign of a Witch. 7. It has always been said, that it is a difficult thing to find out Witches: But if the Representation of such a Person as afflicting, or the Look or Touch be an infallible proof of the guilt of Witchcraft in the Persons complained of, 'tis the easiest thing in the World to discover them; for it is done to our hand, and there needs no enquiry into the Matter. 8. _Let them say this is an infallible Proof, produce any Word out of the Law of God which does in the least countenance that Assertion:_ The Word of God instructs Jurors and Judges to proceed upon clear humane Testimony, _Deut. 35.30._ But the Word no where giveth us the least Intimation, that every one is a Witch, at whose look the bewitched Person shall fall into Fits; nor yet that any other means should be used for the discovery of Witches, than what may be used for the finding out of Murderers, Adulterers, and other Criminals. 9. Sometimes Antipathies in Nature have strange and unaccountable Effects. I have read of a Man that at the sight of his own Son, who was no Wizzard would fall into Fits. There are that find in their Natures an averseness to some Persons whom they never saw before, of which they can give no better an account than he in _Martial_, concerning _Sabidius_. _Non Amo te Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare._ That some Persons at the Sight of Bruit-Creatures, Cats, Spiders, _&c._ nay, at the sight of Cheeses, Milk, Apples, will fall into Fits, is too well known to be denied. _Pensingius_ in his Learned Discourse _De Pulvere Sympathetico_, p. 128. saith, there was one in the City of _Groning_ that could not bear the sight of a Swine's Head: And that he knew another who was not able to look on the Picture thereof. _Amatus Lusitanus_ speaks of one that at the sight of a Rose would swoon away: This proveth that the falling into a Fit at the sight of another is not always a sign of Witchcraft. It may proceed from Nature, and the Power of Imagination. To conclude; Judicious _Casuists_[73] have determined, that to make use of those _Media_ to come to the Knowledge of any Matter, which have no such power in them by Nature, nor by Divine Institution is an Implicit going to the Devil to make a discovery: Now there is no natural Power in the Look or Touch of a Person to bewitch another; nor is this by Divine Institution the means whereby Witchcraft is discovered: Therefore it is an unwarrantable Practice. We proceed now to the third Case proposed to Consideration; If the things which have been mentioned are not infallible Proofs of Guilt in the accused Party, it is then Queried, _Whether there are any Discoveries of this Crime, which Jurors and Judges may with a safe Conscience proceed upon to the Conviction and Condemnation of the Persons under Suspicion?_ Let me here premise Two things, 1. The Evidence in this Crime ought to be as clear as in any other Crimes of a Capital nature. The Word of God does no where intimate, that a less clear Evidence, or that fewer or other Witnesses may be taken as sufficient to convict a Man of Sorcery, which would not be enough to convict him were he charged with another evil worthy of Death, _Numb. 35.30._ if we may not take the Oath of a distracted Person, or of a possessed Person in a Case of Murder, Theft, Felony of any sort, then neither may we do it in the Case of Witchcraft. 2. Let me premise this also, that there have been ways of trying Witches long used in many Nations, especially in the dark times of Paganism and Popery, which the righteous God never approved of. But which (as judicious Mr. _Perkins_ expresseth it in plain _English_) were invented by the Devil, that so innocent Persons might be condemned, and some notorious Witches escape: Yea, many Superstitious and Magical experiments have been used to try Witches by: Of this sort is that of scratching the Witch, or seething the Urine of the Bewitched Person, or making a Witch-cake with that Urine: And that tryal of putting their Hands into scalding Water, to see if it will not hurt them: And that of sticking an Awl under the Seat of the suspected Party, yea, and that way of discovering Witches by tying their Hands and Feet, and casting them on the Water, to try whether they will sink or swim: I did publickly bear my Testimony against this Superstition in a Book printed at _Boston_ eight Years past. I hear that of late some in a Neighbour Colony have been playing with this Diabolical invention: It is to be lamented, that in such a _Land of Uprightness_ as _New-England_ once was, a Practice which Protestant Writers generally condemn as sinful, and which the more sober and learned Men amongst Papists themselves have not only judged unlawful, but (to express it in their own terms) to be no less than a _Mortal Sin_, should ever be heard of. Were it not that the coming of Christ to judge the Earth draweth near, I should think that such Practices are an unhappy Omen that the Devil and Pagans will get these dark Territories into their Possession again: But that I may not be thought to have no reason for my calling the impleaded Experiment into Question, I have these things further to alledge against it. 1. It has been rejected long agone, by Christian Nations as a thing Superstitious and Diabolical: In _Italy_ and _Spain_ it is wholly disused; and [74]in the _Low-Countries_, and in _France_, where the Judges are Men of Learning. In some parts of _Germany_ old _Paganism_ Customs are observed more than in other Countries, nevertheless all the [75]_Academies_ throughout _Germany_ have disapproved of this way of Purgation. 2. The Devil is in it, all Superstition is from him; and when Secret things, or latent Crimes, are discovered by superstitious Practices, some Compact and Communion with the Devil is the Cause of it, as _Austin_[76] has truly intimated; and so it is here; for if a Witch cannot be drowned, this must proceed either from some natural Cause, which it doth not, for it is against Nature for Humane Bodies, when Hands and Feet are tied, not to sink under the Water: Besides, they that plead for this Superstition, say that if Witches happen to be condemned for some other Crime and not for Witchcraft, they will not swim like a Cork above Water, which Cause sheweth that the Cause of this Natation is not _Physical_: And if not, then either it must proceed from a Divine Miracle to save a Witch from drowning; or lastly, it must be a diabolical Wonder: This superstitious Experiment is commonly known by the Name of, _The Vulgar Probation_, because it was never appointed by any lawful Authority, but from the Suggestion of the Devil taken up by the rude Rabble: And some [77]learned Men are of Opinion, that the first _Explorator_ (_being a white Witch_) did explicitely covenant with the Devil, that he should discover latent Crimes in this way: And that it is by Virtue of that first Contract that the Devil goeth to work to keep his Servants from sinking, when this Ceremony of his ordaining is used. Moreover, we know that _Diabolus est Dei Simia_, the Devil seeks to imitate Divine Miracles. We read in Ecclesiastical Story, that some of the Martyrs when they were by Persecutors ordered to be drowned, prov'd to be immersible: This Miracle would the Devil imitate in causing Witches, who are his Martyrs, not to sink when they are cast into the Waters. 3. This way of Purgation is of the same nature with the old _Ordeals_ of the Pagans. If Men were accused with any Crime, to clear their innocency, they were to take an hot Iron into their Hands, or to suffer scalding Water to be poured down their Throats, and if they received no hurt thereby they were acquitted. This was the Devil's Invention, and many times (as the Devil would have it) they that submitted to these Tryals suffered no inconvenience. Nevertheless, it is astonishing to think what innocent Blood has been shed in the World by means of this _Satanical_ device. Witches have often (as [78]_Sprenger_ observes) desired that they might stand or fall by this Tryal by hot Iron, and sometimes come off well: Indeed, this _Ordeal_ was used in other Cases, and not in Cases of Witchcraft only: And so was the _Vulgar Probation_ by casting into the Water practiced upon Persons accused[79] with other Crimes as well as that of Witchcraft: How it came to be restrained to that of Witchcraft I cannot tell; it is as supernatural for a Body whose Hands and Feet are tied to swim above the Water, as it is for their Hands not to feel a red hot Iron. If the one of these _Ordeals_ is lawful to be used, then so is the other too: But as for the fiery _Ordeal_ it is rejected and exploded out of the World; for the same reason then the tryal by Water should be so. 4. It is a tempting of God when Men put the Innocency of their Fellow-Creatures upon such tryals; to desire the Almighty to shew a Miracle to clear the Innocent, or to convict the Guilty is a most presumptuous tempting of him. Was it not a Miracle when _Peter_ was kept from sinking under the Water by the Omnipotency of Christ? As for Satan, we know that his Ambition is to make his Servants believe that his Power is equal to God's, and that therefore he can preserve whom he pleaseth. I have read[80] of certain Magicians, who were seen walking on the Water: If then guilty Persons shall float on the Waters, either it is the Devil that causes them to do so, (as no doubt it is) and what have Men to do to set the Devil on work; or else it is a Divine Miracle, like that of _Peter's_ not sinking, or that of the Iron that swam at the Word of _Elisha_. And shall Men try whether God will work a Miracle to make a discovery? If a Crime cannot be found out but by Miracle, it is not for any Judge on Earth to usurp that Judgment which is reserved for the Divine Throne. 5. This pretended Gift of Immersibility attending Witches, is a most fallible deceitful thing; for many a Witch has sunk under the Water. _Godelmannus_[81] giveth an account of six notorious and clearly convicted Witches, that when they were brought to their _vulgar Probation_, sunk down under the Water like other Persons; _Althusius_ affirms the like concerning others; in the _Bohemian_ History[82] it is related, that _Uratslaus_ the King of _Bohemia_, extirpated Witches out of his Kingdom, some of which he delivered to the Ax, others of them to the Fire, and others of them he caused to be drowned: If Witches are immersible, how came they to die by drowning in _Bohemia_? Besides, it has sometimes been known that Persons who have floated on the Water when the Hangman has made the Experiment on them, have sunk down like a Stone, when others have made the tryal. 6. The Reasons commonly alledged for this Superstition are of no moment: It is said they hate the Water; whereas they have many times desired that they might be cast on the Water in order to their purgation: It is alledged, that Water is used in _Baptism_, therefore Witches swim: A weak Phansie; all the Water in the World is not consecrated Water. Cannot Witches eat Bread or drink Wine, notwithstanding those Elements are made use of in the Blessed Sacrament: But (say some) the Devils by sucking of them make them so light that the Water bears them; whereas some Witches are twice as heavy as many an innocent Person: Well, but then they are possessed with the Devil: Suppose so; Is the Devil afraid if they should sink, that he should be drowned with them? But why then were the _Gadarens_ Hogs drowned when the Devil was in them. These things being premised, I answer the Question affirmatively; _There are Proofs for the Conviction of Witches which Jurors may with a safe Conscience proceed upon, so as to bring them in guilty._ The Scripture which saith, _Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live_, clearly implies, that some in the World may be known and proved to be Witches: For until they be so, they may and must be suffered to live. Moreover we find in Scripture, that some have been convicted and executed for Witches: For _Saul cut off those that had familiar Spirits, and the Wizzards out of the Land_, _1 Sam. 28.9._ It may be wondered that _Saul_ who did like him that said, _Flectere si nequeo Superos Acheronta Movebo_, should cause the Wizzards in the Land to be put to death. The _Jewish Rabbies_ say, the reason was, because those Wizzards foretold that _David_ should be King. It is (as Mr. _Gaul_ observes[83]) the Opinion of some learned Protestants, that _Saul_ in his Zeal did over do: And that under the Pretext[84] of Witches he slew the _Gibeonites_, for which that Judgment followed, _2 Sam. 21.1._ _Neither_ (saith Mr. _Gaule_) _want we the storied Examples of God's Judgments upon those that defamed, prosecuted and executed them for Witches, that indeed were none._ But we have in the Scripture the Example of a better Man than _Saul_ to encourage us to make enquiry after Wizzards and Witches in order to their Conviction and Execution. This did the rarest King that ever lived caused to be done, _viz._ _Josiah_, _2 Kings 23.24._ _The Workers with familiar Spirits and the Wizzards, that were spied in the Land of +Judah+, did +Josiah+ put away, that he might perform the Words of the Law._ It seems there were some that sought to hide those Workers of Iniquity, but that incomparable King spied them out, and rid the Land and the World of them. _Q._ But then the Enquiry is, _What is sufficient Proof?_ _A._ This Case has been with great Judgment answered by several Divines of our own, particularly by Mr. _Perkins_, and Mr. _Bernard_; also Mr. _John Gaul_ a worthy Minister at _Staughton_, in the County of _Huntington_, has published a very Judicious Discourse, called, _Select Cases of Conscience touching Witches and Witchcrafts_, Printed at _London_ A.D. 1646. wherein he does with great Prudence and Evidence of Scripture light handle this and other Cases: Such Jurors as can obtain those Books, I would advise them to read, and seriously as in the fear of God to consider them, and so far as they keep to the Law and to the Testimony, and speak according to that Word, receive the Light which is in them. But the Books being now rare to be had, let me express my Concurrence with them in these two particulars. 1. _That a free and voluntary Confession of the Crime made by the Person suspected and accused after Examination, is a sufficient Ground of Conviction._ Indeed, If Persons are Distracted, or under the Power of _Phrenetick Melancholy_, that alters the Case; but the Jurors that examine them, and their Neighbours that know them, may easily determine that Case; or if Confession be extorted,[85] the Evidence is not so clear and convictive; but if any Persons out of Remorse of Conscience, or from a Touch of God in their Spirits, confess and shew their Deeds, as the Converted Magicians in _Ephesus_ did, _Acts 19.18, 19._ nothing can be more clear. Suppose a Man to be suspected for Murder, or for committing a Rape, or the like nefandous Wickedness, if he does freely confess the Accusation, that's ground enough to Condemn him. The Scripture approveth of Judging the wicked Servant out of his own Mouth, _Luke 19.22._ It is by some objected, that Persons in Discontent may falsly accuse themselves. I say, if they do so, and it cannot be proved that they are false Accusers of themselves, they ought to dye for their Wickedness, and their Blood will be upon their own Heads; the Jury, the Judges, and the Land is Clear: I have read a very sad and amazing, and yet a true Story to this purpose. There was in the Year 1649, in a Town called _Lauder_ in _Scotland_, a certain woman accused and imprisoned on suspicion of Witchcraft, when others in the same Prison with her were Convicted, and their Execution ordered to be on the Monday following, she desired to speak with a Minister, to whom she declared freely that she was guilty of Witchcraft, acknowledging also many other Crimes committed by her, desiring that she might die with the rest: She said particularly that she had Covenanted with the Devil, and was become his Servant about twenty years before, and that he kissed her and gave her a Name, but that since he had never owned her. Several Ministers who were jealous that she accused herself untruly, charged it on her Conscience, telling her that they doubted she was under a Temptation of the Devil to destroy her own Body and Soul, and adjuring her in the Name of God to declare the Truth: Notwithstanding all this, she stifly adhered to what she had said, and was on Monday morning Condemned, and ordered to be Executed that day. When she came to the place of Execution, she was silent until the Prayers were ended, then going to the Stake where she was to be Burnt, she thus expressed herself, _All you that see me this day! Know ye that I am to die as a Witch, by my own Confession! and I free all Men, especially the Ministers and Magistrates, from the guilt of my Blood, I take it wholly on my self, and as I must make answer to the God of Heaven, I declare I am as free from Witchcraft as any Child, but being accused by a Malicious Woman, and Imprisoned under the Name of a Witch, my Husband and Friends disowned me, and seeing no hope of ever being in Credit again, through the Temptation of the Devil, I made that Confession to destroy my own Life, being weary of it, and chusing rather to Die than to Live._ This her lamentable Speech did astonish all the Spectators, few of whom could restrain from Tears. The Truth of this Relation (saith my Author[86]) is certainly attested by a worthy Divine now living, who was an Eye and an Ear-Witness of the whole matter; but thus did that miserable Creature suffer Death, and this was a just Execution. When the _Amalekite_ confessed that he killed _Saul_, whom he had no legal Authority to meddle with, although 'tis probable that he belyed himself, _David_ gave order for his Execution, and said to him, _Thy Blood be upon thy Head, for thy Mouth hath Testified against thee_, _2 Sam. 1.16._ But as for the Testimony of Confessing Witches against others, the case is not so clear as against themselves, they are not such credible Witnesses, as in a Case of Life and Death is to be desired: It is beyond dispute, that the Devil makes his Witches to dream strange things of themselves and others which are not so. There was (as Authors beyond Exception relate) in appearance a sumptuous Feast prepared, the Wine and Meat set forth in Vessels of Gold; a certain Person whom an amorous young Man had fallen in Love with, was represented and supposed to be really there; but _Apollonius Tyanæus_[87] discovered the Witchery of the Business, and in an instant all vanished, and nothing but dirty Coals were to be seen: The like to this is mentioned in the _Arausican_ Council. There were certain Women that imagined they rode upon Beasts in the Night, and that they had _Diana_ and _Herodius_ in company with them, besides a Troop of other Persons; the Council giveth this Sentence on it; _Satanas qui se transfigurat in Angelum Lucis, transformat se in diversarum personarum species, & mentem quam captivam tenet, in somnis deludit._ Satan transforms himself into the likeness of divers Persons, and deludes the Souls that are his Captives with Dreams and Fancies; see Dr. _Willet_ on _1 Sam. 28._ _p. 165_. What Credit can be given to those that say they can turn Men into Horses? If so, they can as well turn Horses into Men; but all the Witches on Earth in Conjunction with all the Devils in Hell, can never make or unmake a rational Soul, and then they cannot transform a Bruit into a Man, nor a Man into a Bruit; so that this Transmutation is fantastical. The Devil may and often does impose on the Imaginations of his Witches and Vassals, that they believe themselves to be Converted into Beasts, and reverted into Men again; as _Nebuchadnezzar_ whilst under the Power of a Dæmon really imagined himself to be an Ox, and would lye out of Doors and eat Grass: The Devil has inflicted on many a Man the Disease called _Lycanthropia_, from whence they have made lamentable Complaints of their being Wolves: In a word, there is no more Reality in what many Witches confess of strange things seen or done by them, whilst Satan had them in his full Power, than there is in _Lucian's_ ridiculous Fable of his being Bewitched into an _Asse_, and what strange Feats he then played; so that what such persons relate concerning Persons and Things at Witch-meetings, ought not to be received with too much Credulity. I could mention dismal Instances of Innocent Blood which has been shed by means of the Lies of some Confessing Witches; there is a very sad Story mentioned in the Preface to the Relation of the Witchcrafts in _Sweedland_, how that in the Year 1676, at _Stockholm_, a young Woman accused her own Mother (who had indeed been a very bad Woman, but not guilty of Witchcraft,) and Swore that she had carried her to the Nocturnal Meetings of Witches, upon which the Mother was burnt to Death. Soon after the Daughter came crying and howling before the Judges in open Court, declaring, that to be revenged on her Mother for an Offence received, she had falsely accused her with a Crime which she was not guilty of; for which she also was justly Executed. A most wicked Man in _France_ freely confessed himself to be a Magician, and accused many others, whose Lives were thereupon taken from them; and a whole Province had like to have been ruined thereby, but the Impostor was discovered: The Confessing pretended Wizzard was burnt at _Paris_ in the year 1668. I shall only take notice further of an awful Example mentioned by A. B. _Spotswood_ in his History of _Scotland_, p. 449. His words are these, 'This Summer (_viz._ Anno 1597.) there was a great business for the Tryal of Witches, amongst others, one _Margaret Atkin_ being apprehended on suspicion, and threatned with Torture, did confess herself Guilty; being examined touching her Associates in that Trade, she named a few, and perceiving her Delations find Credit, made offer to detect all of that sort, and to purge the Country of them; so she might have her Life granted: For the reason of her Knowledge, she said, _That they had a secret mark all of that sort in their Eyes, whereby she could surely tell, how soon she looked upon any, whether they were Witches or not;_ and in this she was so readily believed, that for the space of 3 or 4 Months she was carried from Town to Town to make Discoveries in that kind; many were brought in question by her Delations, especially at _Glasgow_, where _diverse Innocent Women, through the Credulity of the Minister Mr. +John Cowper+, were condemned and put to Death_; in the end she was found to be a meer deceiver, and sent back to _Fife_, where she was first apprehended: At her Tryal she affirmed all to be false that she had confessed of herself or others, and persisted in this to her Death, which made many fore-think their too great forwardness that way, and moved the King to recall his Commission given out against such Persons, discharging all Proceedings against them, except in case of a voluntary Confession, till a solid Order should be taken by the Estates touching the form that should be kept in their Tryal.' Thus that famous Historian. 2. _If two credible Persons shall affirm upon Oath that they have seen the party accused speaking such words, or doing things which none but such as have Familiarity with the Devil ever did or can do, that's a sufficient Ground for Conviction._ Some are ready to say, that Wizzards are not so unwise as to do such things in the sight or hearing of others, but it is certain that they have very often been known to do so: How often have they been seen by others using Inchantments? Conjuring to raise Storms? And have been heard calling upon their Familiar Spirits? And have been known to use Spells and Charms? And to shew in a Glass or in a Shew-stone persons absent? And to reveal Secrets which could not be discovered but by the Devil? And have not men been seen to do things which are above humane Strength, that no man living could do without Diabolical Assistances? _Claudia_ was seen by Witnesses enough, to draw a Ship which no humane Strength could move. _Tuccia_ a Vestal Virgin was seen to carry Water in a Sieve: The Devil never assists men to do supernatural things undesired. When therefore such like things shall be testified against the accused Party not by _Spectres_ which are Devils in the Shape of Persons either living or dead, but by real men or women who may be credited; it is proof enough that such an one has that Conversation and Correspondence with the Devil, as that he or she, whoever they be, ought to be exterminated from amongst men. This notwithstanding I will add; It were better that ten suspected Witches should escape, than that one innocent Person should be Condemned; that is an old saying, and true, _Prestat reum nocentem absolvi, quam ex prohibitis Indiciis & illegitima probatione condemnari._ It is better that a Guilty Person should be Absolved, than that he should without sufficient ground of Conviction be condemned. I had rather judge a Witch to be an honest woman, than judge an honest woman as a Witch. The Word of God directs men not to proceed to the execution of the most capital offenders, until such time as upon searching diligently, the matter is _found to be a Truth, and the thing certain_, _Deut. 13.14, 15._ An Acquaintance[88] of mine at _London_, in his description of _New-England_ declares, that as to their Religion, the people there are like Mr. _Perkins_; it is no dishonour to us, if that be found true: I am sorry that any amongst us begin to slight so great a Man, whom the most Learned[89] in Foreign Lands, speak of with Admiration, on the account of his polite and acute Judgment: It is a grave and good Advice which he giveth in his Discourse of Witchcrafts (Chap. 7. Sect. 2.) wherewith I conclude; 'I would therefore wish and advise all Jurors who give the Verdict upon Life and Death in the Court of Assizes, to take good heed, that as they be diligent in zeal of God's glory, and the good of his Church, in detecting of Witches, by all sufficient and lawful means, so likewise they would be careful what they do, and not to condemn any party suspected upon bare Presumptions, without sound and sufficient Proofs that they be not guilty through their own Rashness of shedding Innocent Blood.' _Boston, New-England, Octob. 3. 1692._ POSTSCRIPT. The Design of the preceding _Dissertation_, is not to plead for Witchcrafts, or to appear as an Advocate for Witches: I have therefore written another Discourse, proving that there are such horrid Creatures as Witches in the World; and that they are to be extirpated and cut off from amongst the People of God, which I have Thoughts and Inclinations in due time to publish; and I am abundantly satisfied that there have been, and are still most cursed Witches in the Land. More than one or two of those now in Prison, have freely and credibly acknowledged their Communion and Familiarity with the Spirits of Darkness; and have also declared unto me the Time and Occasion, with the particular Circumstances of their Hellish Obligations and Abominations. Nor is there designed any Reflection on those worthy Persons who have been concerned in the late Proceedings at _Salem_: They are wise and good Men, and have acted with all Fidelity according to their Light, and have out of tenderness declined the doing of some things, which in our own Judgments they were satisfied about: Having therefore so arduous a Case before them, Pitty and Prayers rather than Censures are their due; on which account I am glad that there is published to the World (by my Son) a _Breviate of the Tryals_ of some who were lately executed, whereby I hope the thinking part of Mankind will be satisfied, that there was more than that which is called _Spectre Evidence_ for the Conviction of the Persons condemned. I was not myself present at any of the Tryals, excepting one, _viz._ that of _George Burroughs_; had I been one of his Judges, I could not have acquitted him: For several Persons did upon Oath testifie, that they saw him do such things as no Man that has not a Devil to be his Familiar could perform: And the Judges affirm, that they have not convicted any one meerly on the account of what _Spectres_ have said, or of what has been represented to the Eyes or Imaginations of the sick bewitched Persons. If what is here exposed to publick view, may be a means to prevent it for the future, I shall not repent of my Labour in this Undertaking. I have been prevailed with so far as I am able to discern the Truth in these dark Cases, to declare my Sentiments, with the Arguments which are of weight with me, hoping that what is written may be of some use to discover the _Depths of Satan_; and to prevent innocent ones having their Lives endangered, or their Reputations ruined, by being through the Subtility and Power of the Devils, in consideration with the Ignorance and Weakness of Men, involved amongst the Guilty. It becomes those of my Profession to be very tender in Cases of Blood, and to imitate our Lord and Master, _Who came not to destroy the Lives of Men, but to save them_. I likewise design in what I have written, to give my testimony against these unjustifiable ways of discovering Witchcrafts, which some among us have practised. I hear that of late there was a _Witch-cake_ made with the Urine of bewitched Creatures, as one Ingredient by several Persons in a place, which has suffered much by the Attack of Hell upon it: This I take to be not only wicked Superstition, but great Folly: For tho' the Devil does sometimes operate with the _Experiments_, yet not always, especially if a _Magical Faith_ be wanting. I shall here take occasion to recite some Passages in a Letter, which I received from that Eminent pious and learned Man, Mr. _Samuel Cradock_; during my abode in _London_; the Letter bears date _Febr. 26. 1690_. Then take it in his own Words, which are these; 'We have at this present one in our next Town, who has a Son who has strange Fits, and such as they impute to Witchcraft: He come to consult with me about it, but before he came, he had used a means which I should never had directed him unto, _viz._ He took the Nails of his Son's Hands and Feet, and some of his Hair, and mixed them in Rye-Paste with his Water, and so set it all by the Fire till it was consumed, and his Son (as he says) was well after, and free from his Fits for a whole Month, but then they came again, and _He tried that means a second time, and then it would not do;_ He removed his Son into _Cambridgeshire_ the next County, and then he was well, but as soon as he brought him home he was afflicted as before. The Boy says, He saw a thing like a Mole following of him, which once spoke to him, and told him he came to do the Office he was to do: I advised his Father to make use of the Medicine prescribed by our Saviour, _viz._ Fasting and Prayer. Here have been others in this Town, that though they were under _Ill-handling_ as they call it: One Family had their Milk so affected, that they could not possibly make any Cheese, but it hov'd and swelled, and was good for nothing: They are now rid of that trouble, but how they got rid of it I do not know': Thus my Letter. By which it is evident that Towns in _England_ as well as _New-England_ are molested with _Dæmons_, only I wish that the Superstitions practiced in other places to get rid of such troublesome Guests had never been known, much less used amongst us or them. Some I hear have taken up a Notion, that the Book newly published by my Son, is contradictory to this of mine: 'Tis strange that such Imaginations should enter into the Minds of Men: I perused and approved of that Book before it was printed; and nothing but my Relation to him hindred me from recommending it to the World: But my self and Son agreed unto the humble Advice which twelve Ministers concurringly presented before his Excellency and Council, respecting the present Difficulties, which let the World judge, whether there be anything in it dissentany from what is attested by either of us. It was in the Words following:-- The Return of several Ministers consulted by his Excellency, and the Honourable Council, upon the present Witchcrafts in _Salem_ Village. Boston, _June 15, 1692_. I. _The afflicted State of our poor Neighbours, that are now suffering by Molestations from the Invisible World, we apprehend so deplorable, that we think their Condition calls for the utmost help of all Persons in their several Capacities._ II. _We cannot but with all Thankfulness acknowledge, the Success which the merciful God has given unto the sedulous and assiduous Endeavors of our honourable Rulers, to detect the abominable Witchcrafts which have been committed in the Country; humbly praying that the discovery of these mysterious and mischievous Wickednesses, may be perfected._ III. _We judge that in the prosecution of these, and all such Witchcrafts, there is need of a very critical and exquisite Caution, lest by too much Credulity for things received only upon the Devil's Authority, there be a Door opened for a long Train of miserable Consequences, and Satan get an advantage over us, for we should not be ignorant of his Devices._ IV. _As in Complaints upon Witchcrafts, there may be Matters of Enquiry, which do not amount unto Matters of Presumption, and there may be Matters of Presumption which yet may not be reckoned Matters of +Conviction+; so 'tis necessary that all Proceedings thereabout be managed with an exceeding tenderness towards those that may be complained of; especially if they have been Persons formerly of an unblemished Reputation._ V. _When the first Enquiry is made into the Circumstances of such as may lie under any just Suspicion of Witchcrafts, we could wish that there may be admitted as little as is possible, of such Noise, Company, and Openness, as may too hastily expose them that are examined: and that there may nothing be used as a Test, for the Trial of the suspected, the Lawfulness whereof may be doubted among the People of God; but that the Directions given by such judicious Writers as +Perkins+ and +Bernard+, be consulted in such a Case._ VI. _Presumptions whereupon Persons may be committed, and much more Convictions, whereupon Persons may be condemned as guilty of Witchcrafts, ought certainly to be more considerable, than barely the accused Person being represented by a Spectre unto the Afflicted; inasmuch as 'tis an undoubted and a notorious thing, that a Dæmon may, by God's Permission, appear even to ill purposes, in the Shape of an innocent, yea, and a vertuous Man: Nor can we esteem Alterations made in the Sufferers, by a Look or Touch of the Accused to be an infallible Evidence of Guilt; but frequently liable to be abused by the Devil's Legerdemains._ VII. _We know not, whether some remarkable Affronts given to the Devils, by our disbelieving of those Testimonies, whose whole force and strength is from them alone, may not put a Period, unto the Progress of the dreadful Calamity begun upon us, in the Accusation of so many Persons, whereof we hope, some are yet clear from the great Transgression laid unto their Charge._ VIII. _Nevertheless, We cannot but humbly recommend unto the Government, the speedy and vigorous Prosecution of such as have rendered themselves obnoxious, according to the Direction given in the Laws of God, and the wholesome Statutes of the +English+ Nation, for the Detection of Witchcrafts._ FOOTNOTES: [1] R. Sactias. R. Eleazer Athias. Lyranus. _Sic &_ Josephus. [2] Ambrose, Hierom, Basil, Nazianzen. [3] Thomas, Tostatus, Suarez. _Cajetan_, _In Ecclesia_, _Chap. 46. 22, 23_. [4] _In Locum._ [5] _In 2 Cor. 11, 14, Pag. 555._ [6] _De Spectris_, _Cap. 7_. [7] _Præstig. Dæmon._ Lib. 1. C. 16. [8] De C. D. l. 18. [9] _De Appar. Spirituum_, Lib. 2. Cap. 7. [10] _Misq. Magicar._ Lib. 2. C. 12. [11] _De Confes. Sag._ pag. 191. [12] _De secretis mag._ p. 31. see also _Lavater de Spect._ Lib. 2. Cap. 18. [13] _Dr. Casaubon_: of Spirits. [14] _Sulpitius Severus in vita Martini._ [15] _Guaccius_, _compend. malefic._ p. 342. [16] _Binsfield_, _de Confess. Sag._ p. 187. [17] Examples, Vol. 1. p. 510. [18] _Socrate's_ Hist. p. 7. C. 38. [19] _Lege Villalpond de Magia_, &c. L. 2. Cap. 27. [20] Part 1. Chap. 19. Pag. 8. [21] _Epistol._ 2. [22] In Disput. _de Magia_. P. 575. [23] In Mr. _Couper's_ Mystery of Witchcraft, Pag. 174, 175. [24] _Acta Eruditorum Anno 1690._ Pag. 113. [25] In Mr. _Glanvil's_ Philosophical Considerations. [26] _De subtilitate._ Lib. 29. [27] P. 75, 76. [28] In his Sadducism Triumph. Collection, p. 201. [29] P. 215. (Disa. Magic.) l. 1. c. 3. p. 22. [30] Vairus de Fascino. Lib. 2. [31] P. 131. [32] V. Germ. Ephemer. Anno 16. p. 379. [33] Henkelius de obsessis, pag. 86. [34] Camerar. cent. I. c. 73. Cardan de rerum varietate, Lib. 16. cap. 93. [35] In his _Britannia_, p. 609. [36] See the Hist. of _Lapland_, and Mr. _Burton's_ Hist. of _Dæmons_. [37] _Schotten_, Physic. curios, lib. 1. c. 16. [38] See _Wanly_ of the Wonders of the World, p. 215. [39] Ubi Supra. [40] _De Spectris_, p. 86, 87. [41] _Disput. Select._ Vol. 1. pag. 1008. [42] P. 944. [43] _Thyræus de Apparitionibus_, Lib. 2. Cap. 14. [44] _Binsfield de confessionibus sagarum_, p. 183. 191. [45] _Disquis. Magic._ Lib. 2. Q. 12. p. 143. [46] Printed at _Frankfort_, _Anno 1681_. [47] Discourse of Witchcraft, _Ch. 7._ _Sect. 2._ p. 644. [48] In his Witchcraft discovered, p. 277. [49] _Webster's_ displaying of supposed Witchcraft, p. 298. 308. [50] _Ubi supra_, p. 207, 208. [51] Ch. 15. p. 14, &c. [52] Pag. 121, 122. [53] _In vita Hilarion._ [54] _Anastasius_, Qu. 23. [55] In Disput. de _Dæmoniacis_, part 1. chap. 16. p. 30. [56] _Thuanus_, lib. 130. p. 1136. [57] _Thyræus_, _ubi supra_, p. 16. [58] _Henkel_, _ubi supra_, p. 47. 50. [59] _Brockmand_, _Theol._ p. 265. [60] _Melancthon_, Epist. [61] _Tostatus_, in Mat. 8. Q. 114. [62] _Baldwin_, Case of Cons. l. 3. c. 3. p. 621. [63] Lib. 7. Cap. 2. [64] _5 Sympos._ Cap. 7. [65] _Med. Precl._ lib. 6. pars 9. cap. 1. [66] Lib. 2. cap. 2. _Wierus_, l. 6. c. 9. p. 683. [67] See the Tryal, p. 40. 43. 45. [68] In _Dæmonomania_. See Mr. _Bromhal's_ History of Apparitions, p. 136. [69] See the Printed Relation, p. 30, 31. [70] Ubi supra, p. 121. [71] Remarkable Providences, p. 267. [72] See Mr. _Burton's_ History of Dæmons, p. 136. and Mr. _Robert's_ Nar. of the Witches in _Suffolk_. [73] _Ames._ _Cas. Consc._ L. 4. C. 23. [74] _Delrio._ _Disquiss. Magic._ pag. 642. [75] _Malderus de Magia_, cap. 10. _dub._ 11. [76] _De Doctr. Christiana_, Lib. 2. Cap. 20. 22. [77] _Delrio & Malderus._ [78] _In malleo malleficarum_, p. 421. [79] _Menna_, _de purgatione vulgari_, cap. _ult._ [80] _Cæsarius_, Lib. 9. [81] _De Lamiis_, L. 3. C. 4. [82] _Dubravius_, Hist. _Cohim._ Lib. 8. [83] In his Cases about Witchcraft, p. 181. [84] So Dr. _Willet_, conjectures on _1 Sam. 21.1._ [85] _V. Bodin_, _Dæmonomania_, L. 4. [86] Mr. _Sinclare_, Invisible World, p. 45. and _Burton_, Hist. of Dæmons, p. 122. [87] Boisard in vita Apollonii. [88] Mr. _Merden_ in his Geogra. Phy. p. 577. [89] Voetius, Biblioth, l. 2. Lecus, in Compend. Histor. THE END. CHISWICK PRESS:--PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Transcriber's Note, continued.-- The format of all biblical citations has been regularized. Footnote markers in the original were sometimes placed before the word they refer to, and sometimes after--this has been retained. The following changes were also made: --p. viii: slighest to slightest --p. ix: Mrs. Hales to Mrs. Hale --p. xvii: Original title page used two large, ornate "U"s instead of a "W" in Witches. --p. 10: oe-ligature to ae-ligature (Antipædobaptist) --p. 11: . to , (thus maintained in the Country,) --p. 19: a to as (cry'd out upon as imploying) --p. 22: Omisera to O misera --p. 54: singlar to singular --p. 61: Catastrophe's to Catastrophes (there will be more such _Catastrophes_) --p. 62: _times of the_ Jews to _times of the Jews_ --pp. 63-69: Corollary I. to Corollary V. formatted as headers. In the original, IV. and V. were out-of-line headers and I., II. and III. were in-line. --p. 80: Moenia had oe-ligature in original (Dilapsa sunt vestra Moenia!) --p. 97: oe-ligature to ae-ligature (Cælestial) --p. 100: We _Fear_ to _We Fear_ --p. 138: II. to III. (Incorrect numbering of header corrected) --p. 135: Ground-sel to Ground (but struck only the Ground) It appears that the "-sel" was mistakenly introduced during printing, as the word "Counsel" in the previous sentence was split over two lines and hyphenated ("Coun-sel".) However, this mistake is not unique to this reprint. --p. 170: Berecovered to Be recovered --p. 184: on to one (that rocks one to Sleep) --p. 193: The Sweet Waters of Stealth? to The Sweet Waters of Stealth; --p. 245: viz. to _viz._ (_viz._ That in an Orchard) --p. 247: missing period added after Lonicer --pp. 267-268: Although listed in the Table of Contents, Point 6 ("Bewitched Persons have sometimes been struck down with the Look of Dogs") was not numbered in the original, causing points 7 through 9 to be numbered incorrectly. This was corrected. --p. 267: Brochmand to Brockmand --p. 273: extra "the" removed (so was the _Vulgar Probation_) Two other problems were noted but left unchanged: --p. 99: The biblical citation _Luc. 13.2, 3._ refers to Luke 13.2, 3. --p. 268: Mather cites Deut. 35.30, but Deuteronomy only has 34 Chapters. The context suggests he may have meant Numbers 35.30. --Footnote [77]: _Delri. & Malderus._ to _Delrio & Malderus._ Also note that spelling--other than the corrections noted above--has been left as it appeared in the original copy of this book. This includes many archaic spellings that appear only once, such as thir (p. 214), doe's (p. 195), and ha's (p. 173). ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 
26978	----	public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital Libraries.) SALEM WITCHCRAFT AND COTTON MATHER. A REPLY. BY CHARLES W. UPHAM, _Member of the Massachusetts Historical Society._ MORRISANIA, N. Y.: 1869. TO HENRY B. DAWSON, ESQ., PROPRIETOR AND EDITOR OF _THE HISTORICAL MAGAZINE_, THIS REPRINT FROM ITS PAGES IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY ITS AUTHOR. SALEM, MASS., December 10, 1869. Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Superscript text is preceded by the ^ character. Variant spellings, including the inconsistent spelling of proper nouns, remain as printed. Spelling errors in quotations have been retained, despite the generally poor quality of the original typesetting. PREFATORY NOTE. The Editors of the _North American Review_ would, under the circumstances, I have no reason to doubt, have opened its columns to a reply to the article that has led to the preparation of the following statement. But its length has forbidden my asking such a favor. All interested in the department of American literature to which the HISTORICAL MAGAZINE belongs, must appreciate the ability with which it is conducted, and the laborious and indefatigable zeal of its Editor, in collecting and placing on its pages, beyond the reach of oblivion and loss, the scattered and perishing materials necessary to the elucidation of historical and biographical topics, whether relating to particular localities or the country at large; and it was as gratifying as unexpected to receive the proffer, without limitation, of the use of that publication for this occasion. The spirited discussion, by earnest scholars, of special questions, although occasionally assuming the aspect of controversy, will be not only tolerated but welcomed by liberal minds. Let champions arise, in all sections of the Republic, to defend their respective rightful claims to share in a common glorious inheritance and to inscribe their several records in our Annals. Feeling the deepest interest in the Historical, Antiquarian, and Genealogical Societies of Massachusetts, and yielding to none in keen sensibility to all that concerns the ancient honors of the Old Bay State and New England, generally, I rejoice to witness the spirit of a commemorative age kindling the public mind, every where, in the Middle, Western and Southern States. The courtesy extended to me is evidence that while, by a jealous scrutiny and, sometimes, perhaps, a sharp conflict, we are reciprocally imposing checks upon loose exaggerations and overweening pretensions, a comprehensive good feeling predominates over all; truth in its purity is getting eliminated; and characters and occurrences, in all parts of the country, brought under the clear light of justice. The aid I have received, in the following discussion, from the publications and depositories of historical associations and the contributions of individuals, like Mr. Goodell, Doctor Moore, and others, engaged in procuring from the mother country and preserving all original tracts and documents, whenever found, belonging to our Colonial period, demonstrate the importance of such efforts, whether of Societies or single persons. In this way, our history will stand on a solid foundation, and have the lineaments of complete and exact truth. Notwithstanding the distance from the place of printing, owing to the faithful and intelligent oversight of the superintendent of the press and the vigilant core of the compositors, but few errors, I trust, will be found, beyond what are merely literal, and every reader will unconsciously, or readily, correct for himself. C. W. U. SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS. TABLE OF CONTENTS. _Page._ INTRODUCTION. 1 I. THE CONNECTION OF THE MATHERS WITH THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THEIR TIME. 1 II. THE GOODWIN CHILDREN. SOME GENERAL REMARKS UPON THE CRITICISMS OF THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. 4 III. COTTON MATHER AND THE GOODWIN CHILDREN. JOHN BAILY. JOHN HALE. GOODWIN'S CERTIFICATES. MATHER'S IDEA OF WITCHCRAFT AS A WAR WITH THE DEVIL. HIS USE OF PRAYER. CONNECTION BETWEEN THE CASE OF THE GOODWIN CHILDREN AND SALEM WITCHCRAFT. 6 IV. THE RELATION OF THE MATHERS TO THE ADMINISTRATION OF MASSACHUSETTS, IN 1692. THE NEW CHARTER. THE GOVERNMENT UNDER IT ARRANGED BY THEM. ARRIVAL OF SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. 12 V. THE SPECIAL COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER. HOW IT WAS ESTABLISHED. WHO RESPONSIBLE FOR IT. THE GOVERNMENT OF THE PROVINCE CONCENTRATED IN ITS CHIEF-JUSTICE. 15 VI. COTTON MATHER'S CONNECTION WITH THE COURT. SPECTRAL EVIDENCE. LETTER TO JOHN RICHARDS. ADVICE OF THE MINISTERS. 19 VII. ADVICE OF THE MINISTERS, FURTHER CONSIDERED. COTTON MATHER'S PLAN FOR DEALING WITH SPECTRAL TESTIMONY. 23 VIII. COTTON MATHER AND SPECTRAL EVIDENCE. 30 IX. COTTON MATHER AND THE PRELIMINARY EXAMINATIONS. JOHN PROCTOR. GEORGE BURROUGHS. 32 X. COTTON MATHER AND THE WITCHCRAFT TRIALS. THE EXECUTIONS. 38 XI. LETTER TO STEPHEN SEWALL. "WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD." ITS ORIGIN AND DESIGN. COTTON MATHER'S ACCOUNT OF THE TRIALS. 44 XII. "WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD," CONTINUED. PASSAGES FROM IT. "CASES OF CONSCIENCE." INCREASE MATHER. 50 XIII. THE COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER BROUGHT TO A SUDDEN END. SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. 54 XIV. COTTON MATHER'S WRITINGS SUBSEQUENT TO THE WITCHCRAFT PROSECUTIONS. 57 XV. HISTORY OF OPINION AS TO COTTON MATHER'S CONNECTION WITH SALEM WITCHCRAFT. THOMAS BRATTLE. THE PEOPLE OF SALEM VILLAGE. JOHN HALE. JOHN HIGGINSON. MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH. 61 XVI. HISTORY OF OPINION AS TO COTTON MATHER, CONTINUED. FRANCIS HUTCHINSON. DANIEL NEAL. ISAAC WATTS. THOMAS HUTCHINSON. WILLIAM BENTLEY. JOHN ELIOT. JOSIAH QUINCY. 68 XVII. THE EFFECT UPON THE POWER OF THE MATHERS, IN THE PUBLIC AFFAIRS OF THE PROVINCE, OF THEIR CONNECTION WITH WITCHCRAFT. 70 XVIII. COTTON MATHER'S WRITINGS AND CHARACTER. 74 XIX. ROBERT CALEF'S WRITINGS AND CHARACTER. 77 XX. MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS. CONCLUSION. 84 SALEM WITCHCRAFT AND COTTON MATHER. INTRODUCTION. An article in _The North American Review_, for April, 1869, is mostly devoted to a notice of the work published by me, in 1867, entitled _Salem Witchcraft, with an account of Salem Village, and a history of opinions on witchcraft and kindred subjects_. If the article had contained criticisms, in the usual style, merely affecting the character of that work, in a literary point of view, no other duty would have devolved upon me, than carefully to consider and respectfully heed its suggestions. But it raises questions of an historical nature that seem to demand a response, either acknowledging the correctness of its statements or vindicating my own. The character of the Periodical in which it appears; the manner in which it was heralded by rumor, long before its publication; its circulation, since, in a separate pamphlet form; and the extent to which, in certain quarters, its assumptions have been endorsed, make a reply imperative. The subject to which it relates is of acknowledged interest and importance. The Witchcraft Delusion of 1692 has justly arrested a wider notice, and probably always will, than any other occurrence in the early colonial history of this country. It presents phenomena in the realm of our spiritual nature, belonging to that higher department of physiology, known as Psychology, of the greatest moment; and illustrates the operations of the imagination upon the passions and faculties in immediate connection with it, and the perils to which the soul and society are thereby exposed, in a manner more striking, startling and instructive than is elsewhere to be found. For all reasons, truth and justice require of those who venture to explore and portray it, the utmost efforts to elucidate its passages and delineate correctly its actors. With these views I hail with satisfaction the criticisms that may be offered upon my book, without regard to their personal character or bearing, as continuing and heightening the interest felt in the subject; and avail myself of the opportunity, tendered to me without solicitation and in a most liberal spirit, by the proprietor of this Magazine, to meet the obligations which historical truth and justice impose. The principle charge, and it is repeated in innumerable forms through the sixty odd pages of the article in the _North American_, is that I have misrepresented the part borne by Cotton Mather in the proceeding connected with the Witchcraft Delusion and prosecutions, in 1692. Various other complaints are made of inaccuracy and unfairness, particularly in reference to the position of Increase Mather and the course of the Boston Ministers of that period, generally. Although the discussion, to which I now ask attention, may appear, at first view, to relate to questions merely personal, it will be found, I think, to lead to an exploration of the literature and prevalent sentiments, relating to religious and philosophical subjects, of that period; and, also, of an instructive passage in the public history of the Province of Massachusetts Bay. I now propose to present the subject more fully than was required, or would have been appropriate, in my work on Witchcraft. I. THE CONNECTION OF THE MATHERS WITH THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THEIR TIME. In the first place, I venture to say that it can admit of no doubt, that Increase Mather and his son, Cotton Mather, did more than any other persons to aggravate the tendency of that age to the result reached in the Witchcraft Delusion of 1692. The latter, in the beginning of the Sixth Book of the _Magnalia Christi Americana_, refers to an attempt made, about the year 1658, "among some divines of no little figure throughout England and Ireland, for the faithful registering of remarkable providences. But, alas," he says, "it came to nothing that was remarkable. The like holy design," he continues, "was, by the Reverend Increase Mather, proposed among the divines of New England, in the year 1681, at a general meeting of them; who thereupon desired him to begin and publish an Essay; which he did in a little while; but there-withal declared that he did it only as a specimen of a larger volume, in hopes that this work being set on foot, posterity would go on with it." Cotton Mather did go on with it, immediately upon his entrance to the ministry; and by their preaching, publications, correspondence at home and abroad, and the influence of their learning, talents, industry, and zeal in the work, these two men promoted the prevalence of a passion for the marvelous and monstrous, and what was deemed preternatural, infernal, and diabolical, throughout the whole mass of the people, in England as well as America. The public mind became infatuated and, drugged with credulity and superstition, was prepared to receive every impulse of blind fanaticism. The stories, thus collected and put everywhere in circulation, were of a nature to terrify the imagination, fill the mind with horrible apprehensions, degrade the general intelligence and taste, and dethrone the reason. They darken and dishonor the literature of that period. A rehash of them can be found in the Sixth Book of the _Magnalia_. The effects of such publications were naturally developed in widespread delusions and universal credulity. They penetrated the whole body of society, and reached all the inhabitants and families of the land, in the towns and remotest settlements. In this way, the Mathers, particularly the younger, made themselves responsible for the diseased and bewildered state of the public mind, in reference in supernatural and diabolical agencies, which came to a head in the Witchcraft Delusion. I do not say that they were culpable. Undoubtedly they thought they were doing God service. But the influence they exercised, in this direction, remains none the less an historical fact. Increase Mather applied himself, without delay, to the prosecution of the design he had proposed, by writing to persons in all parts of the country, particularly clergymen, to procure, for publication, as many marvelous stories as could be raked up. In the eighth volume of the Fourth Series of the _Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society_, consisting of _The Mather Papers_, the responses of several of his correspondents may be seen. [_Pp. 285, 360, 361, 367, 466, 475, 555, 612._] He pursued this business with an industrious and pertinacious zeal, which nothing could slacken. After the rest of the world had been shocked out of such mischievous nonsense, by the horrid results at Salem, on the fifth of March, 1694, as President of Harvard College, he issued a Circular to "The Reverend Ministers of the Gospel, in the several Churches in New England," signed by himself and seven others, members of the Corporation of that institution, urging it, as the special duty of Ministers of the Gospel, to obtain and preserve knowledge of notable occurrences, described under the general head of "_Remarkables_," and classified as follows: "The things to be esteemed memorable are, especially, all unusual accidents, in the heaven, or earth, or water; all wonderful deliverances of the distressed; mercies to the godly; judgments to the wicked; and more glorious fulfilments of either the promises or the threatenings, in the Scriptures of truth; with apparitions, possessions, inchantments, and all extraordinary things wherein the existence and agency of the invisible world is more sensibly demonstrated."--_Magnalia Christi Americana._ Edit. London, 1702. Book VI., p. 1. All communications, in answer to this missive were to be addressed to the "President and Fellows" of Harvard College. The first article is as follows: "To observe and record the more illustrious discoveries of the Divine Providence, in the government of the world, is a design so holy, so useful, so justly approved, that the too general neglect of it in the Churches of God, is as justly to be lamented." It is important to consider this language in connection with that used by Cotton Mather, in opening the Sixth Book of the _Magnalia_: "To regard the illustrious displays of that Providence, wherewith our Lord Christ governs the world, is a work than which there is none more needful or useful for a Christian; to record them is a work than which none more proper for a Minister; and perhaps the great Governor of the world will ordinarily do the most notable things for those who are most ready to take a wise notice of what he does. Unaccountable, therefore, and inexcusable, is the sleepiness, even upon the most of good men throughout the world, which indisposes them to observe and, much more, to preserve, the remarkable dispensations of Divine Providence, towards themselves or others. Nevertheless there have been raised up, now and then, those persons, who have rendered themselves worthy of everlasting remembrance, by their wakeful zeal to have the memorable providences of God remembered through all generations." These passages from the Mathers, father and son, embrace, in their bearings, a period, eleven years before and two years after the Delusion of 1692. They show that the Clergy, generally, were indifferent to the subject, and required to be aroused from "neglect" and "sleepiness," touching the duty of flooding the public mind with stories of "wonders" and "remarkables;" and that the agency of the Mathers, in giving currency, by means of their ministry and influence, to such ideas, was peculiar and pre-eminent. However innocent and excusable their motives may have been, the laws of cause and effect remained unbroken; and the result of their actions are, with truth and justice, attributable to them--not necessarily, I repeat, to impeach their honesty and integrity, but their wisdom, taste, judgment, and common sense. Human responsibility is not to be set aside, nor avoided, merely and wholly by good intent. It involves a solemn and fearful obligation to the use of reason, caution, cool deliberation, circumspection, and a most careful calculation of consequences. Error, if innocent and honest, is not punishable by divine, and ought not to be by human, law. It is covered by the mercy of God, and must not be pursued by the animosity of men. But it is, nevertheless, a thing to be dreaded and to be guarded against, with the utmost vigilance. Throughout the melancholy annals of the Church and the world, it has been the fountain of innumerable woes, spreading baleful influences through society, paralysing the energies of reason and conscience, dimming, all but extinguishing, the light of religion, convulsing nations, and desolating the earth. It is the duty of historians to trace it to its source; and, by depicting faithfully the causes that have led to it, prevent its recurrence. With these views, I feel bound, distinctly, to state that the impression given to the popular sentiments of the period, to which I am referring, by certain leading minds, led to, was the efficient cause of, and, in this sense, may be said to have originated, the awful superstitions long prevalent in the old world and the new, and reaching a final catastrophe in 1692; and among these leading minds, aggravating and intensifying, by their writings, this most baleful form of the superstition of the age, Increase and Cotton Mather stand most conspicuous. This opinion was entertained, at the time, by impartial observers. Francis Hutchinson, D.D., "Chaplain in ordinary to his Majesty, and Minister of St. James's Parish, in St. Edmund's Bury," in the life-time of both the Mathers, published, in London, an _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_, dedicated to the "Lord Chief-justice of England, the Lord Chief-justice of Common Pleas, and the Lord Chief Baron of Exchequer." In a Chapter on _The Witchcraft in Salem, Boston, and Andover, in New England_, he attributes it, as will be seen in the course of this article, to the influence of the writings of the Mathers. In the Preface to the London edition of Cotton Mather's _Memorable Providences_, written by Richard Baxter, in 1690, he ascribes this same prominence to the works of the Mathers. While expressing the great value he attached to writings about Witchcraft, and the importance, in his view, of that department of literature which relates stories about diabolical agency, possessions, apparitions, and the like, he says, "Mr. Increase Mather hath already published many such histories of things done in New England; and this great instance published by his son"--that is, the account of the Goodwin children--"cometh with such full convincing evidence, that he must be a very obdurate Sadducee that will not believe it. And his two Sermons, adjoined, are excellently fitted to the subject and this blinded generation, and to the use of us all, that are not past our warfare with Devils." One of the Sermons, which Baxter commends, is on _The Power and Malice of Devils_, and opens with the declaration, that "there is a combination of Devils, which our air is filled withal:" the other is on _Witchcraft_. Both are replete with the most exciting and vehement enforcements of the superstitions of that age, relating to the Devil and his confederates. My first position, then, in contravention of that taken by the Reviewer in the _North American_, is that, by stimulating the Clergy over the whole country, to collect and circulate all sorts of marvelous and supposed preternatural occurrences, by giving this direction to the preaching and literature of the times, these two active, zealous, learned, and able Divines, Increase and Cotton Mather, considering the influence they naturally were able to exercise, are, particularly the latter, justly chargeable with, and may be said to have brought about, the extraordinary outbreaks of credulous fanaticism, exhibited in the cases of the Goodwin family and of "the afflicted children," at Salem Village. Robert Calef, writing to the Ministers of the country, March 18, 1694, says: "I having had, not only occasion, but renewed provocation, to take a view of the mysterious doctrines, which have of late been so much contested among us, could not meet with any that had spoken more, or more plainly, the sense of those doctrines" [_relating to the Witchcraft_] "than the Reverend Mr. Cotton Mather, but how clearly and consistent, either with himself or the truth, I meddle not now to say, but cannot but suppose his strenuous and zealous asserting his opinions has been one cause of the dismal convulsions, we have here lately fallen into."--_More Wonders of the Invisible World_, by Robert Calef, Merchant of Boston, in New England. Edit. London, 1700, p. 33. The papers that remain, connected with the Witchcraft Examinations and Trials, at Salem, show the extent to which currency had been given, in the popular mind, to such marvelous and prodigious things as the Mathers had been so long endeavoring to collect and circulate; particularly in the interior, rural settlements. The solemn solitudes of the woods were filled with ghosts, hobgoblins, spectres, evil spirits, and the infernal Prince of them all. Every pathway was infested with their flitting shapes and footprints; and around every hearth-stone, shuddering circles, drawing closer together as the darkness of night thickened and their imaginations became more awed and frightened, listened to tales of diabolical operations: the same effects, in somewhat different forms, pervaded the seaboard settlements and larger towns. Besides such frightful fancies, other most unhappy influences flowed from the prevalence of the style of literature which the Mathers brought into vogue. Suspicions and accusations of witchcraft were everywhere prevalent; any unusual calamity or misadventure; every instance of real or affected singularity of deportment or behavior--and, in that condition of perverted and distempered public opinion, there would be many such--was attributed to the Devil. Every sufferer who had yielded his mind to what was taught in pulpits or publications, lost sight of the Divine Hand, and could see nothing but devils in his afflictions. Poor John Goodwin, whose trials we are presently to consider, while his children were acting, as the phrase--originating in those days, and still lingering in the lower forms of vulgar speech--has it, "like all possessed," broke forth thus: "I thought of what David said. _2 Samuel_, xxiv., 14. If he feared so to fall into the hands of men, oh! then to think of the horrors of our condition, to be in the hands of Devils and Witches. Thus, our doleful condition moved us to call to our friends to have pity on us, for God's hand hath touched us. I was ready to say that no one's affliction was like mine. That my little house, that should be a little Bethel for God to dwell in, should be made a den for Devils; that those little Bodies, that should be Temples for the Holy Ghost to dwell in, should be thus harrassed and abused by the Devil and his cursed brood."--_Late Memorable Providences, relating to Witchcraft and Possessions._ By Cotton Mather. Edit. London, 1691. No wonder that the country was full of the terrors and horrors of diabolical imaginations, when the Devil was kept before the minds of men, by what they constantly read and heard, from their religious teachers! In the Sermons of that day, he was the all-absorbing topic of learning and eloquence. In some of Cotton Mather's, the name, Devil, or its synonyms, is mentioned ten times as often as that of the benign and blessed God. No wonder that alleged witchcrafts were numerous! Drake, in his _History of Boston_, says there were many cases there, about the year 1688. Only one of them seems to have attracted the kind of notice requisite to preserve it from oblivion--that of the four children of John Goodwin, the eldest, thirteen years of age. The relation of this case, in my book [_Salem Witchcraft_, i., 454-460] was wholly drawn from the _Memorable Providences_ and the _Magnalia_. II. THE GOODWIN CHILDREN. SOME GENERAL REMARKS UPON THE CRITICISMS OF THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. The Reviewer charges me with having wronged Cotton Mather, by representing that he "got up" the whole affair of the Goodwin children. He places the expression within quotation marks, and repeats it, over and over again. In the passage to which he refers--p. 366 of the second volume of my book--I say of Cotton Mather, that he "repeatedly endeavored to get up cases of the kind in Boston. There is some ground for suspicion that he was instrumental in originating the fanaticism in Salem." I am not aware that the expression was used, except in this passage. But, wherever used, it was designed to convey the meaning given to it, by both of our great lexicographers. Worcester defines "_to get up_, 'to prepare, to make ready--to get up an entertainment;' 'to print and publish, as a book.'" Webster defines it, "to prepare for coming before the public; to bring forward." This is precisely what Mather did, in the case of the Goodwin children, and what Calef put a stop to his doing in the case of Margaret Rule. In 1831, I published a volume entitled _Lectures on Witchcraft, comprising a history of the Delusion, in Salem, in 1692_. In 1867, I published _Salem Witchcraft, and an account of Salem Village_; and, in the Preface, stated that "the former was prepared under circumstances which prevented a thorough investigation of the subject. Leisure and freedom from professional duties have now enabled me to prosecute the researches necessary to do justice to it. The _Lectures on Witchcraft_ have long been out of print. Although frequently importuned to prepare a new edition, I was unwilling to issue, again, what I had discovered to be an inadequate presentation of the subject." In the face of this disclaimer of the authority of the original work, the Reviewer says: "In this discussion, we shall treat Mr. Upham's _Lectures_ and History in the same connection, as the latter is an expansion and defence of the views presented in the former." I ask every person of candor and fairness, to consider whether it is just to treat authors in this way? It is but poor encouragement to them to labor to improve their works, for the first critical journal in the country to bring discredit upon their efforts, by still laying to their charge what they have themselves remedied or withdrawn. Yet it is avowedly done in the article which compels me to this vindication. The _Lectures_, for instance, printed in 1831, contained the following sentence, referring to Cotton Mather's agency, in the Goodwin case, in Boston. "An instance of witchcraft was brought about, in that place, by his management." So it appeared in a reprint of that volume, in 1832. In my recent publication, while transferring a long paragraph from the original work, _I carefully omitted_, from the body of it, the above sentence, fearing that it might lead to misapprehension. For, although I hold that the Mathers are pre-eminently answerable for the witchcraft proceedings in their day, and may be said, justly, to have caused them, of course I did not mean that, by personal instigation on the spot, they started every occurrence that ultimately was made to assume such a character. The Reviewer, with the fact well known to him, that I had suppressed and discarded this clause, flings it against me, repeatedly. He further quotes a portion of the paragraph, in the _Lectures_, in which it occurs, omitting, _without indicating the omission_, certain clauses that would have explained my meaning, _taking care, however, to include the suppressed passage_; and finishes the misrepresentation, by the following declaration, referring to the paragraph in the _Lectures_: "The same statements, in almost the same words, he reproduces in his History." This he says, knowing that the particular statement to which he was then taking exception, was not reproduced in my History. It may be as well here, at this point, as elsewhere, once for all, to dispose of a large portion of the matter contained in the long article in the _North American Review_, now under consideration. In preparing any work, particularly in the department of history, it is to be presumed that the explorations of the writer extend far beyond what he may conclude to put into his book. He will find much that is of no account whatever; that would load down his narrative, swell it to inadmissible dimensions, and shed no additional light. Collateral and incidental questions cannot be pursued in details. A new law, however, is now given out, that must be followed, hereafter, by all writers--that is, to give not a catalogue merely, but an account of the contents, of every book and tract they have read. It is thus announced by our Reviewer: "We assume Mr. Upham has not seen this tract, as he neither mentioned it nor made use of its material." The document here spoken of was designed to give Increase Mather's ideas on the subject of witchcraft trials, written near the close of those in Salem, in 1692. As I had no peculiar interest in determining what his views were--as a careful study of the tract, particularly taken in connection with its _Postscript_, fails to bring any reader to a clear conception of them; and as its whole matter was altogether immaterial to my subject--I did not think it worth while to encumber my pages with it. So in respect to many other points, in treating which extended discussions might be demanded. If I had been governed by such notions as the Reviewer seems to entertain, my book, which he complains of as too long, would have been lengthened to the dimensions of a cyclopædia of theology, biography, and philosophy. For keeping to my subject, and not diverting attention to writings of no inherent value, in any point of view, and which would contribute nothing to the elucidation of my topics, I am charged by this Reviewer, in the baldest terms, with ignorance, on almost every one of his sixty odd pages, and, often, several times on the same page. All that I say of Cotton Mather, mostly drawn from his own words, does not cover a dozen pages. Exception is taken to some unfavorable judgments, cursorily expressed. This is fair and legitimate, and would justify my being called on to substantiate them. But to assume, and proclaim, that I had not read nor seen tracts or volumes that would come under consideration in such a discussion, is as rash as it is offensive; and, besides, constitutes a charge against which no person of any self respect or common sense can be expected to defend himself. I gave the opinion of Cotton Mather's agency in the Witchcraft of 1692, to which my judgment had been led--whether with sufficient grounds or not will be seen, as I proceed--but did not branch off from my proper subject, into a detail of the sources from which that opinion was derived. If I had done so, in connection with allusions to Mather, upon the same principle it would have been necessary to do it, whenever an opinion was expressed of others, such as Roger Williams, or Hugh Peters, or Richard Baxter. It would destroy the interest, and stretch interminably the dimensions, of any book, to break its narrative, abandon its proper subject, and stray aside into such endless collateral matter. But it must be done, if the article in the _North American Review_, is to be regarded as an authoritative announcement of a canon of criticism. Lecturers and public speakers, or writers of any kind, must be on their guard. If they should chance, for instance, to speak of Cotton Mather as a pedant, they will have the reviewers after them, belaboring them with the charge of "a great lack of research," in not having "pored over" the "prodigious" manuscript of his unpublished work, in the Library of the Massachusetts Historical Society, the whole of his three hundred and eighty-two printed works, and the huge mass of _Mather Papers_, in the Library of the American Antiquarian Society; and with never having "read" the _Memorable Providences_, or "seen" the _Wonders of the Invisible World_, or "heard" of the _Magnalia Christi Americana_. III. COTTON MATHER AND THE GOODWIN CHILDREN. JOHN BAILY. JOHN HALE. GOODWIN'S CERTIFICATES. MATHER'S IDEA OF WITCHCRAFT AS A WAR WITH THE DEVIL. HIS USE OF PRAYER. CONNECTION BETWEEN THE CASE OF THE GOODWIN CHILDREN AND SALEM WITCHCRAFT. The Reviewer complains of my manner of treating Cotton Mather's connection with the affair of the Goodwin children. The facts in the case are, that the family, to which they belonged, lived in the South part of Boston. The father, a mason by occupation, was, as Mather informs us, "a sober and pious man." As his church relations were with the congregation in Charlestown, of which Charles Morton was the Pastor, he probably had no particular acquaintance with the Boston Ministers. From a statement made by Mr. Goodwin, some years subsequently, it seems that after one of his children had, for "about a quarter of a year, been laboring under sad circumstances from the invisible world," he called upon "the four Ministers of Boston, together with his own Pastor, to keep a day of prayer at his house. If so deliverance might be obtained." He says that Cotton Mather, with whom he had no previous acquaintance, was the last of the Ministers that "he spoke to on that occasion." Mr. Mather did not attend the meeting, but visited the house in the morning of the day, before the other Ministers came; spent a half hour there; and prayed with the family. About three months after, the Ministers held another prayer-meeting there, Mr. Mather being present. He further stated that Mr. Mather never, in any way, suggested his prosecuting the old Irish woman for bewitching his children, nor gave him any advice in reference to the legal proceedings against her; but that "the motion of going to the authority was made to him by a Minister of a neighboring town, now departed." The Reviewer, in a note to the last item, given above, of Goodwin's statement, says: "Probably Mr. John Baily." Unless he has some particular evidence, tending to fix this advice upon Baily, the conjecture is objectionable. The name of such a man as Baily appears to have been, ought not, unnecessarily, to be connected with the transaction. It is true that, after the family had become relieved of its "sad circumstances from the invisible world," Mr. Baily took one of the children to his house, in Watertown; but that is no indication of his having given such advice. The only facts known of him, in connection with Witchcraft prosecutions, look in the opposite direction. When John Proctor, in his extremity of danger, sought for help, Mr. Baily was one of the Ministers from whom alone he had any ground to indulge a hope for sympathy; and his name is among the fourteen who signed the paper approving of Increase Mather's _Cases of Conscience_. The list comprises all the Ministers known as having shown any friendly feelings towards persons charged with Witchcraft or who had suffered from the prosecutions, such as Hubbard, Allen, Willard, Capen and Wise; but not one who had taken an active part in hurrying on the proceedings of 1692. If any surmise is justifiable, or worth while, as to the author of the advice to Goodwin--and perhaps it is due to the memory of Baily, whose name has been thus introduced--I should be inclined to suggest that it was John Hale, of Beverly, who, like Baily, was deceased at the date of Goodwin's certificate. He was a Charlestown man, originally of the same religious Society with Goodwin, and had kept up acquaintance with his former townsmen. His course at Salem Village, a few years afterwards, shows that he would have been likely to give such advice; and we may impute it to him without any wrong to his character or reputation. His noble conduct in daring, in the very hour of the extremest fury of the storm, when, as just before the break of day, the darkness was deepest, to denounce the proceedings as wrong; and in doing all that he could to repair that wrong, by writing a book condemning the very things in which he had himself been a chief actor, gives to his name a glory that cannot be dimmed by supposing that, in the period of his former delusion, he was the unfortunate adviser of Goodwin. When Calef's book reached this country, in 1700, a Committee of seven was raised, at a meeting of the members of the Parish of which the Mathers were Ministers, to protect them against its effects. John Goodwin was a member of it, and contributed the Certificate from which extracts have just been made. It was so worded as to give the impression that Cotton Mather did not take a leading part in the case of Goodwin's children, in 1688. It states, as has been seen, that he "was the last of the Ministers" asked to attend the prayer-meeting; but lets out the fact that he was the first to present himself, going to the house and praying with the family before the rest arrived. Goodwin further states, as follows: "The Ministers would, now and then, come to visit my distressed family, and pray with and for them, among which Mr. Cotton Mather would, now and then, come." The whole document is so framed as to present Mather as playing a secondary part. In an account, however, of the affair, written by this same John Goodwin, and printed by Mather, in London, ten years before, in _The Memorable Providences relating to Witchcraft and Possessions_, a somewhat different position is assigned to Mather. After saying "the Ministers did often visit us," he mentions "Mr. Mather particularly." "He took much pains in this great service, to pull this child and her brother and sister, out of the hands of the Devil. Let us now admire and adore that fountain, the Lord Jesus Christ, from whence those streams come. The Lord himself will requite his labor of love." In 1690, Mather was willing to have Goodwin place him in the foreground of the picture, representing him as pulling the children out of the hand of the Devil. In 1700, it was expedient to withdraw him into the background: and Goodwin, accordingly, provided the Committee, of which he was a member, with a Certificate of a somewhat different color and tenor. The execution of the woman, Glover, on the charge of having bewitched these Goodwin children, is one of the most atrocious passages of our history. Hutchinson[1] says she was one of the "wild Irish," and "appeared to be disordered in her senses." She was a Roman Catholic, unable to speak the English language, and evidently knew not what to make of the proceedings against her. In her dying hour, she was understood by the interpreter to say, that taking away her life would not have any effect in diminishing the sufferings of the children. The remark, showing more sense than any of the rest of them had, was made to bear against the poor old creature, as a diabolical imprecation. Between the time of her condemnation and that of her execution, Cotton Mather took the eldest Goodwin child into his family, and kept her there all winter. He has told the story of her extraordinary doings, in a style of blind and absurd credulity that cannot be surpassed. "Ere long," says he, "I thought it convenient for me to entertain my congregation with a Sermon on the memorable providence, wherein these children had been concerned, (afterwards published)." In this connection, it may be remarked that had it not been for the interference of the Ministers, it is quite likely that "the sad circumstances from the invisible world," in the Goodwin family, would never have been heard of, beyond the immediate neighbourhood. It is quite certain that similar "circumstances," in Mr. Parris's family, in 1692, owed their general publicity and their awful consequences, to the meetings of Ministers called by him. If the girls, in either case, had been let alone, they would soon have been weary of what one of them called their "sport;" and the whole thing would have been swallowed, with countless stories of haunted houses and second sight, in deep oblivion. In considering Cotton Mather's connection with the case of the Goodwin children, and that of the accusing girls, at Salem Village, justice to him requires that the statements, in my book, of the then prevalent notions, of the power and pending formidableness of the Kingdom of Darkness, should be borne in mind. It was believed by Divines generally, and by people at large, that here, in the American wilderness, a mighty onslaught upon the Christian settlements was soon to be made, by the Devil and his infernal hosts; and that, on this spot, the final battle between Satan and the Church, was shortly to come off. This belief had taken full possession of Mather's mind, and fired his imagination. In comparison with the approaching contest, all other wars, even that for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, paled their light. It was the great crusade, in which hostile powers, Moslem, Papal, and Pagan, of every kind, on earth and from Hell, were to go down; and he aspired to be its St. Bernard. It was because he entertained these ideas, that he was on the watch to hear, and prompt and glad to meet, the first advances of the diabolical legions. This explains his eagerness to take hold of every occurrence that indicated the coming of the Arch Enemy. And it must further be borne in mind that, up to the time of the case of the Goodwin children, he had entertained the idea that the Devil was to be met and subdued by Prayer. That, and that only, was the weapon with which he girded himself; and with that he hoped and believed to conquer. For this reason, he did not advise Goodwin to go to the law. For this reason, he labored in the distressed household in exercises of prayer, and took the eldest child into his own family, so as to bring the battery of prayer, with a continuous bombardment, upon the Devil by whom she was possessed. For this reason, he persisted in praying in the cell of the old Irish woman, much against her will, for she was a stubborn Catholic. Of course, he could not pray _with_ her, for he had no doubt she was a confederate of the Devil; and she had no disposition to join in prayer with one whom, as a heretic, she regarded in no better light; but still he would pray, for which he apologized, when referring to the matter, afterward. Cotton Mather was always a man of prayer. For this, he deserves to be honored. Prayer, when offered in the spirit, and in accordance with the example, of the Saviour--"not my will but thine be done," "Your Father knoweth what things ye have need of before ye ask him--" is the noblest exercise and attitude of the soul. It lifts it to the highest level to which our faculties can rise. It "opens heaven; lets down a stream Of glory on the consecrated hour Of man, in audience with the Deity." It was the misfortune of Cotton Mather, that an original infirmity of judgment, which all the influences of his life and peculiarities of his mental character and habits tended to exaggerate, led him to pervert the use and operation of prayer, until it became a mere implement, or device, to compass some personal end; to carry a point in which he was interested, whether relating to private and domestic affairs, or to movements in academical, political, or ecclesiastical spheres. While according to him entire sincerity in his devotional exercises, and, I trust, truly revering the character and nature of such expressions of devout sensibility and aspirations to divine communion, it is quite apparent that they were practiced by him, in modes and to an extent that cannot be commended, leading to much self-delusion and to extravagances near akin to distraction of judgment, and a disordered mental and moral frame. He would abstain from food--on one occasion, it is said, for three days together--and spend the time, as he expresses it "in knocking at the door of heaven." Leaving his bed at the dead hours of the night, and retiring to his study, he would cast himself on the floor, and "wrestle with the Lord." He kept, usually, one day of each week in such fasting, sometimes two. In his vigils, very protracted, he would, in this prostrate position, be bathed in tears. By such exhausting processes, continued through days and nights, without food or rest, his nature failed; he grew faint; physical weakness laid him open to delusions of the imagination; and his nervous system became deranged. Sometimes, heaven seemed to approach him, and he was hardly able to bear the ecstasies of divine love; at other times, his soul would be tossed in the opposite direction: and often, the two states would follow each other in the same exercise, as described by him in his Diary:[2]--"Was ever man more tempted than the miserable Mather? Should I tell in how many forms the Devil has assaulted me, and with what subtlety and energy his assaults have been carried on, it would strike my friends with horror. Sometimes, temptations to vice, to blasphemy, and atheism, and the abandonment of all religion as a mere delusion, and sometimes to self-destruction itself. These, even these, do follow thee, O miserable Mather, with astonishing fury. But I fall down into the dust, on my study floor, with tears, before the Lord, and then they quickly vanish, and it is fair weather again. Lord what wilt thou do with me?" His prayers and vigils, which often led to such high wrought and intense experiences, were, not infrequently, brought down to the level of ordinary sublunary affairs. In his Diary, he says, on one occasion: "I set apart the day for fasting with prayer, and the special intention of the day was to obtain deliverance and protection from my enemies. I mentioned their names unto the Lord, who has promised to be my shield." The enemies, here referred to, were political opponents--Governor Dudley and the supporters of his administration. At another time, he fixed his heart upon some books offered for sale. Not having the means to procure them in the ordinary way, he resorted to prayer: "I could not forbear mentioning my wishes in my prayers, before the Lord, that, in case it might be of service to his interests, he would enable me, in his good Providence, to purchase the treasure now before me. But I left the matter before him, with the profoundest resignation." The following entry is of a similar character: "This evening, I met with an experience, which it may not be unprofitable for me to remember. I had been, for about a fortnight, vexed with an extraordinary heart-burn; and none of all the common medicines would remove it, though for the present some of them would a little relieve it. At last, it grew so much upon me, that I was ready to faint under it. But, under my fainting pain, this reflection came into my mind. There was _this_ among the sufferings and complaints of my Lord Jesus Christ. My heart was like wax melted in the middle of my bowels. Hereupon, I begged of the Lord, that, for the sake of the heart-burn undergone by my Saviour, I might be delivered from the other and lesser heart-burn wherewith I was now incommoded. Immediately it was darted into my mind, that I had Sir Philip Paris's plaster in my house, which was good for inflammations; and laying the plaster on, I was cured of my malady." These passages indicate a use of prayer, which, to the extent Mather carried it, would hardly be practised or approved by enlightened Christians of this or any age; although our Reviewer fully endorses it. In reference to Mather's belief in the power of prayer, he expresses himself with a bald simplicity, never equalled even by that Divine. After stating that the Almighty Sovereign was his Father, and had promised to hear and answer his petitions, he goes on to say: "He had often tested this promise, and had found it faithful and sure." One would think, in hearing such a phraseology, he was listening to an agent, vending a patent medicine as an infallible cure, or trying to bring into use a labor-saving machine. The Reviewer calls me to account for representing "the Goodwin affair" as having had "a very important relation to the Salem troubles," and attempts to controvert that position. On this point, Francis Hutchinson, before referred to, gives his views, very decidedly, in the following passages: [_Pp. 95, 96, 101._] "Mr. Cotton Mather, no longer since than 1690, published the case of one Goodwin's children. * * * The book was sent hither to be printed amongst us, and Mr. Baxter recommended it to our people by a Preface, wherein he says: 'That man must be a very obdurate Sadducee that will not believe it.' The year after, Mr. Baxter, perhaps encouraged by Mr. Mather's book, published his own _Certainty of the World of Spirits_, with another testimony, 'That Mr. Mather's book would Silence any incredulity that pretended to be rational.' And Mr. Mather dispersed Mr. Baxter's book in New England, with the character of it, as a book that was ungainsayable." Speaking of Mather's book, Doctor Hutchinson proceeds: "The judgment I made of it was, that the poor old woman, being an Irish Papist, and not ready in the signification of English words, had entangled herself by a superstitious belief, and doubtful answers about Saints and Charms; and seeing what advantages Mr. Mather made of it, I was afraid I saw part of the reasons that carried the cause against her. And first it is manifest that Mr. Mather is magnified as having great power over evil spirits. A young man in his family is represented so holy, that the place of his devotions was a certain cure of the young virgin's fits. Then his grandfather's and father's books have gained a testimony, that, upon occasion, may be _improved_ one knows not how far. For amongst the many experiments that were made, Mr. Mather would bring to this young maid, the Bible, the _Assembly's Catechism_, his grandfather Cotton's _Milk for Babes_, his father's _Remarkable Providences_, and a book to prove that there were Witches; and when any of these were offered for her to read in, she would be struck dead, and fall into convulsions. 'These good books,' he says, 'were mortal to her'; and lest the world should be so dull as not to take him right, he adds, 'I hope I have not spoiled the credit of the books, by telling how much the Devil hated them.'" This language, published by Doctor Hutchinson, in England, during the life-time of the Mathers, shows how strong was the opinion, at that time, that the writings of those two Divines were designed and used to promote the prevalence of the Witchcraft superstition, and especially that such was the effect, as well as the purpose, of Cotton Mather's publication of the case of the Goodwin children, put into such circulation, as it was, by him and Baxter, in both Old and New England. In the same connection, Francis Hutchinson says: "Observe the time of the publication of that book, and of Mr. Baxter's. Mr. Mather's came out in 1690, and Mr. Baxter's the year after; and Mr. Mather's father's _Remarkable Providences_ had been out before that; and, in the year 1692, the frights and fits of the afflicted, and the imprisonment and execution of Witches in New England, made as sad a calamity as a plague or a war. I know that Mr. Mather, in his late Folio, imputes it to the Indian Pawaws sending their spirits amongst them; but I attribute it to Mr. Baxter's book, and his, and his father's, and the false principles, and frightful stories, that filled the people's minds with great fears and dangerous notions." Our own Hutchinson, in his _History of Massachusetts_, [_II., 25-27_] alludes to the excitement of the public mind, occasioned by the case of the Goodwin children. "I have often," he says, "heard persons who were of the neighborhood, speak of the great consternation it occasioned." In citing this author, in the present discussion, certain facts are always to be borne in mind. One of his sisters was the wife of Cotton Mather's son, towards whom Hutchinson cherished sentiments appropriate to such a near connection, and of which Samuel Mather was, there is no reason to doubt, worthy. In the Preface to his first volume he speaks thus: "I am obliged to no other person more than to my friend and brother, the Reverend Mr. Mather, whose library has been open to me, as it had been before to the Reverend Mr. Prince, who has taken from thence the greatest and most valuable part of what he had collected." Moreover, this very library was, it can hardly be questioned, that of Cotton Mather; of which, in his Diary, he speaks as "very great." In an interesting article, to which I may refer again, in the _Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society_, [_IV., ii., 128_], we are told that, in the inventory of the estate of Cotton Mather, filed by his Administrator, "not a single book is mentioned among the assets of this eccentric scholar." He had, it is to be presumed, given them all, in his life-time, to his son, who succeeded to his ministry in the North Church, in 1732. When the delicacy of his relation to the Mather family and the benefit he was deriving from that library are considered, the avoidance, by Hutchinson, of any unpleasant reference to Cotton Mather, by name, is honorable to his feelings. But he maintained, nevertheless, a faithful allegiance to the truth of history, as the following, as well as many other passages, in his invaluable work, strikingly show. They prove that he regarded Mather's "printed account" of the case of the Goodwin children, as having a very important relation to the immediately subsequent delusion in Salem. "The eldest was taken," he says, "into a Minister's family, where at first she behaved orderly, but after some time suddenly fell into her fits." "The account of her sufferings is in print; some things are mentioned as extraordinary, which tumblers are every day taught to perform; others seem more than natural; but it was a time of great credulity. * * * The printed account was published with a Preface by Mr. Baxter. * * * It obtained credit sufficient, together with other preparatives, to dispose the whole country to be easily imposed upon, by the more extensive and more tragical scene, which was presently after acted at Salem and other parts of the county of Essex." After mentioning several works published in England, containing "_witch-stories_," witch-trials, etc., he proceeds: "All these books were in New England, and the conformity between the behavior of Goodwin's children, and most of the supposed be-witched at Salem, and the behavior of those in England, is so exact, as to leave no room to doubt the stories had been read by the New England persons themselves, or had been told to them by others who had read them. Indeed this conformity, instead of giving suspicion, was urged in confirmation of the truth of both. The Old England demons and the New being so much alike." It thus appears that the opinion was entertained, in England and this country, that the notoriety given to the case of the Goodwin children, especially by Mather's printed account of it, had an efficient influence in bringing on the "tragical scene," shortly afterwards exhibited at Salem. This opinion is shown to have been correct, by the extraordinary similarity between them--the one being patterned after the other. The Salem case, in 1692, was, in fact, a substantial repetition of the Boston case, in 1688. On this point, we have the evidence of Cotton Mather himself. The Rev. John Hale of Beverly, who was as well qualified as any one to compare them, having lived in Charlestown, which place had been the residence of the Goodwin family, and been an active participator in the prosecutions at Salem, in his book, entitled, _A modest Enquiry into the nature of Witchcraft_, written in 1697, but not printed until 1702, after mentioning the fact that Cotton Mather had published an account of the conduct of the Goodwin children, and briefly describing the manifestations and actions of the Salem girls, says: [_p. 24_] "I will not enlarge in the description of their cruel sufferings, because they were, in all things, afflicted as bad as John Goodwin's children at Boston, in the year 1689, as he, that will read Mr. Mather's book on _Remarkable Providences_, p. 3. &c., may read part of what these children, and afterwards sundry grown persons, suffered by the hand of Satan, at Salem Village, and parts adjacent, _Anno 1691-2_, yet there was more in their sufferings than in those at Boston, by pins invisibly stuck into their flesh, pricking with irons (as, in part, published in a book printed 1693, viz: _The Wonders of the Invisible World_)." This is proof of the highest authority, that, with the exceptions mentioned, there was a perfect similarity in the details of the two cases. Mr. Hale's book had not the benefit of his revision, as it did not pass through the press until two years after his death; and we thus account for the error as to the date of the Goodwin affair. In making up his _Magnalia_, Mather had the use of Hale's manuscript and transferred from it nearly all that he says, in that work, about Salem Witchcraft. He copies the passage above quoted. The fact, therefore, is sufficiently attested by Mather as well as Hale, that, with the exceptions stated, there was, "in all things," an entire similarity between the cases of 1688 and 1692. Nay, further, in this same way we have the evidence of Cotton Mather himself, that his "printed account," of the case of the Goodwin children, was actually used, as an authority, by the Court, in the trials at Salem--so that it is clear that the said "account," contributed not only, by its circulation among the people, to bring on the prosecutions of 1692, but to carry them through to their fatal results--Mr. Hale says: [_p. 27_] "that the Justices, Judges and others concerned," consulted the precedents of former times, and precepts laid down by learned writers about Witchcraft. He goes on to enumerate them, mentioning Keeble, Sir Matthew Hale, Glanvil, Bernard, Baxter and Burton, concluding the list with "Cotton Mather's _Memorable Providences, relating to Witchcraft_, printed, anno 1689." Mather transcribes this also into the _Magnalia_. _The Memorable Providences_ is referred to by Hale, in another place, as containing the case of the Goodwin children, consisting, in fact mainly of it. [_p. 23_]. Mather, having Hale's book before him, must, therefore be considered as endorsing the opinion for which the Reviewer calls me to account, namely, that "the Goodwin affair had a very important relation to the Salem troubles." What is sustained touching this point, by both the Hutchinsons, Hale, and Cotton Mather himself, cannot be disturbed in its position, as a truth of History. The reader will, I trust, excuse me for going into such minute processes of investigation and reasoning, in such comparatively unimportant points. But, as the long-received opinions, in reference to this chapter of our history, have been brought into question in the columns of a journal, justly commanding the public confidence, it is necessary to re-examine the grounds on which they rest. This I propose to do, without regard to labor or space. I shall not rely upon general considerations, but endeavor, in the course of this discussion, to sift every topic on which the Reviewer has struck at the truth of history, fairly and thoroughly. On this particular point, of the relation of these two instances of alleged Witchcraft, in localities so near as Boston and Salem, and with so short an interval of time, general considerations would ordinarily be regarded as sufficient. From the nature of things, the former must have served to bring about the latter. The intercommunication between the places was, even then, so constant, that no important event could happen in one without being known in the other. By the thousand channels of conversation and rumor, and by Mather's printed account, endorsed by Baxter, and put into circulation throughout the country, the details of the alleged sufferings and extraordinary doings of the Goodwin children, must have become well known, in Salem Village. Such a conclusion would be formed, if no particular evidence in support of it could be adduced; but when corroborated by the two Hutchinsons, Mr. Hale, and, in effect, by Mather himself, it cannot be shaken. As has been stated, Cotton Mather, previous to his experience with those "pests," as the Reviewer happily calls "the Goodwin children," probably believed in the efficacy of prayer, and in that alone, to combat and beat down evil spirits and their infernal Prince; and John Goodwin's declaration, that it was not by his advice that he went to the law, is, therefore, entirely credible in itself. The protracted trial, however, patiently persevered in for several long months, when he had every advantage, in his own house, to pray the devil out of the eldest of the children, resulting in her becoming more and more "saucy," insolent, and outrageous, may have undermined his faith to an extent of which he might not have been wholly conscious. He says, in concluding his story in the _Magnalia_, [_Book VI., p. 75._] that, after all other methods had failed, "one particular Minister, taking particular compassion on the family, set himself to serve them in the methods prescribed by our Lord Jesus Christ. Accordingly, the Lord being besought thrice, in three days of prayer, with fasting on this occasion, the family then saw their deliverance perfected." It is worthy of reflection, whether it was not the fasting, that seems to have been especially enforced "on this occasion," and for "three days," that cured the girl. A similar application had before operated as a temporary remedy. Mather tells us, in his _Memorable Providences_, [_p. 31_,] referring to a date previous to the "three days" fasting, "Mr. Morton, of Charlestown, and Mr. Allen, Mr. Moody, Mr. Willard, and myself, of Boston, with some devout neighbors, kept another day of prayer at John Goodwin's house; and we had all the children present with us there. The children were miserably tortured, while we labored in our prayers; but our good God was nigh unto us, in what we called upon him for. From this day, the power of the enemy was broken; and the children, though assaults after this were made upon them, yet were not so cruelly handled as before." It must have been a hard day for all concerned. Five Ministers and any number of "good praying people," as Goodwin calls them, together with his whole family, could not but have crowded his small house. The children, on such occasions, often proved very troublesome, as stated above. Goodwin says "the two biggest, lying on the bed, one of them would fain have kicked the good men, while they were wrestling with God for them, had I not held him with all my power and might." Fasting was added to the prayers, that were kept up during the whole time, the Ministers relieving each other. If the fasting had been continued three days, it is not unlikely that the cure of the children would, then, have proved effectual and lasting. The account given in the _Memorables_ and the _Magnalia_, of the conduct of these children, under the treatment of Mather and the other Ministers, is, indeed, most ludicrous; and no one can be expected to look at it in any other light. He was forewarned that, in printing it, he would expose himself to ridicule. He tells us that the mischievous, but bright and wonderfully gifted, girl, the eldest of the children, getting, at one time, possession of his manuscript, pretended to be, for the moment, incapacitated, by the Devil, for reading it; and he further informs us, "She'd hector me at a strange rate for the work I was at, and threaten me with I know not what mischief for it. She got a History I was writing of this Witchcraft; and though she had, before this, read it over and over, yet now she could not read (I believe) one entire sentence of it; but she made of it the most ridiculous Travesty in the world, with such a patness and excess of fancy, to supply the sense that she put upon it, as I was amazed at. And she particularly told me, That I should quickly come to disgrace by that History." It is noticeable that the Goodwin children, like their imitators at Salem Village, the "afflicted," as they were called, were careful, except in certain cases of emergence, not to have their night's sleep disturbed, and never lost an appetite for their regular meals. I cannot but think that if the Village girls had, once in a while, like the Goodwin children, been compelled to go for a day or two upon very short allowance, it would have soon brought their "sport" to an end. Nothing is more true than that, in estimating the conduct and character of men, allowances must be made for the natural, and almost necessary, influence of the opinions and customs of their times. But this excuse will not wholly shelter the Mathers. They are answerable, as I have shown, more than almost any other men have been, for the opinions of their time. It was, indeed, a superstitious age; but made much more so by their operations, influence, and writings, beginning with Increase Mather's movement, at the assembly of the Ministers, in 1681, and ending with Cotton Mather's dealings with the Goodwin children, and the account thereof which he printed and circulated, far and wide. For this reason, then, in the first place, I hold those two men responsible for what is called "Salem Witchcraft." I have admitted and shown that Cotton Mather originally relied only upon prayer in his combat with Satanic powers. But the time was at hand, when other weapons than the sword of the Spirit were to be drawn in that warfare. FOOTNOTES: [1] When, in this article, I cite the name "Hutchinson," without any distinguishing prefix, I mean THOMAS HUTCHINSON, Chief-justice, Governor, and Historian of Massachusetts; so also when I cite the name "Mather," I mean COTTON MATHER. [2] The passages from Cotton Mather's Diary, used in this article, are mostly taken from the _Christian Examiner_, xi., 249; _Proceedings of Massachusetts Historical Society_, i., 289, and iv., 404; and _Life of Cotton Mather_, by William B. O. Peabody, in Sparks's _American Biography_, vi., 162. IV. THE RELATION OF THE MATHERS TO THE ADMINISTRATION OF MASSACHUSETTS, IN 1692. THE NEW CHARTER. THE GOVERNMENT UNDER IT ARRANGED BY THEM. ARRIVAL OF SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. No instance of the responsibility of particular persons for the acts of a Government, in the whole range of history, is more decisive or unquestionable, than that of the Mathers, father and son, for the trials and executions, for the alleged crime of Witchcraft, at Salem, in 1692. Increase Mather had been in England, as one of the Agents of the Colony of Massachusetts, for several years, in the last part of the reign of James II. and the beginning of that of William and Mary, covering much of the period between the abrogation of the first Charter and the establishment of the Province under the second Charter. Circumstances had conspired to give him great influence in organizing the Government provided for in the new Charter. His son describes him as "one that, besides a station in the Church of God, as considerable as any that his own country can afford, hath for divers years come off with honor, in his application to three crowned heads and the chiefest nobility of three kingdoms." Being satisfied that a restoration of the old Charter could not be obtained, Increase Mather acquiesced in what he deemed a necessity, and bent his efforts to have as favorable terms as possible secured in the new. His colleagues in the agency, Elisha Cooke and Thomas Oaks, opposed his course--the former, with great determination, taking the ground of the "old Charter or none." This threw them out of all communication with the Home Government, on the subject, and gave to Mr. Mather controlling influence. He was requested by the Ministers of the Crown to name the officers of the new Government; and, in fact, had the free and sole selection of them all. Sir William Phips was appointed Governor, at his solicitation; and, in accordance with earnest recommendations, in a letter from Cotton Mather, William Stoughton was appointed Deputy-governor, thereby superceding Danforth, one of the ablest men in the Province. In fact, every member of the Council owed his seat to the Mathers, and, politically, was their creature. Great was the exultation of Cotton Mather, when the intelligence reached him, thus expressed in his Diary: "The time for favor is now come, yea, the set-time is come. I am now to receive the answers of so many prayers, as have been employed for my absent parent, and the deliverance and settlement of my poor country. We have not the former Charter, but we have a better in the room of it; one which much better suits our circumstances. And, instead of my being made a sacrifice to wicked rulers, all the Councillors of the Province are of my father's nomination; and my father-in-law, with several related to me, and several brethren of my own Church, are among them. The Governor of the Province is not my enemy, but one whom I baptized, namely, Sir William Phips, and one of my flock, and one of my dearest friends." The whole number of Councillors was twenty-eight, three of them, at least, being of the Mather Church. John Phillips was Cotton Mather's father-in-law. Two years before, Sir William Phips had been baptized by Cotton Mather, in the presence of the congregation, and received into the Church. The "set-time," so long prayed for, was of brief duration. The influence of the Mathers over the politics of the Province was limited to the first part of Phips's short administration. At the very next election, in May, 1693, ten of the Councillors were left out; and Elisha Cooke, their great opponent, was chosen to that body, although negatived by Phips, in the exercise of his prerogative, under the Charter. Increase Mather came over in the same ship with the Governor, the _Nonsuch_, frigate. As Phips was his parishioner, owed to him his office, and was necessarily thrown into close intimacy, during the long voyage, he fell naturally under his influence, which, all things considered, could not have failed to be controlling. The Governor was an illiterate person, but of generous, confiding, and susceptible impulses; and the elder Mather was precisely fitted to acquire an ascendency over such a character. He had been twice abroad, in his early manhood and in his later years, had knowledge of the world, been conversant with learned men in Colleges and among distinguished Divines and Statesmen, and seen much of Courts and the operations of Governments. With a more extended experience and observation than his son, his deportment was more dignified, and his judgment infinitely better; while his talents and acquirements were not far, if at all, inferior. When Phips landed in Boston, it could not, therefore, have been otherwise than that he should pass under the control of the Mathers, the one accompanying, the other meeting him on the shore. They were his religious teachers and guides; by their efficient patronage and exertions he had been placed in his high office. They, his Deputy, Stoughton, and the whole class of persons under their influence, at once gathered about him, gave him his first impressions, and directed his movements. By their talents and position, the Mathers controlled the people, and kept open a channel through which they could reach the ear of Royalty. The Government of the Province was nominally in Phips and his Council, but the Mathers were a power behind the throne greater than the throne itself. The following letter, never before published, for which I am indebted to Abner C. Goodell, Esq., Vice-president of the Essex Institute, shows how they bore themselves before the Legislature, and communicated with the Home Government. "MY LORD: "I have only to assure your Lordship, that the generality of their Majesties subjects (so far as I can understand) do, with all thankfulness, receive the favors, which, by the new Charter, are granted to them. The last week, the General Assembly (which, your Lordship knows, is our New England Parliament) convened at Boston. I did then exhort them to make an Address of thanks to their Majesties; which, I am since informed, the Assembly have unanimously agreed to do, as in duty they are bound. I have also acquainted the whole Assembly, how much, not myself only, but they, and all this Province, are obliged to your Lordship in particular, which they have a grateful sense of, as by letters from themselves your Lordship will perceive. If I may, in any thing, serve their Majesties interest here, I shall, on that account, think myself happy, and shall always study to approve myself, My Lord, "Your most humble, thankful and obedient Servant, INCREASE MATHER. "BOSTON, N. E. June 23, 1692. "To the Rt. Hon^ble the _Earl of Nottingham_, his Maj^ties Principal Secretary of State at Whitehall." While they could thus address the General Assembly, and the Ministers of State, in London, the Government here was, as Hutchinson evidently regarded it, [_i., 365; ii., 69._] "a MATHER ADMINISTRATION." It was "short, sharp, and decisive." It opened in great power; its course was marked with terror and havoc; it ended with mysterious suddenness; and its only monument is Salem Witchcraft--the "_judicial murder_," as the Reviewer calls it, of twenty men and women, as innocent in their lives as they were heroic in their deaths. The _Nonsuch_ arrived in Boston harbor, towards the evening of the fourteenth of May, 1692. Judge Sewall's Diary, now in the possession of the Massachusetts Historical Society, has this entry, at the above date. "Candles are lighted before he gets into Town House, 8 companies wait on him to his house, and then on Mr. Mather to his, made no vollies, because 'twas Saturday night." The next day, the Governor attended, we may be sure, public worship with the congregation to which he belonged; and the occasion was undoubtedly duly noticed. After so long an absence, Increase Mather could not have failed to address his people, the son also taking part in the interesting service. The presence, in his pew, of the man who, a short time before, had been regenerated by their preaching, and now re-appeared among them with the title and commission of Governor of New England, added to the previous honors of Knighthood, at once suggested to all, and particularly impressed upon him, an appreciating conviction of the political triumph, as well as clerical achievement, of the associate Ministers of the North Boston Church. From what we know of the state of the public mind at that time, as emphatically described in a document I am presently to produce, there can be no question as to one class of topics and exhortations, wherewithal his Excellency and the crowded congregation were, that day, entertained. Monday, the sixteenth, was devoted to the ceremonies of the public induction of the new Government. There was a procession to the Town-house, where the Commissions of the Governor and Deputy-governor, with the Charter under which they were appointed, were severally read aloud to the people. A public dinner followed; and, at its close, Sir William was escorted to his residence. At the meeting of the Council, the next day, the seventeenth, the oaths of office having been administered, all round, it was voted "that there be a general meeting of the Council upon Tuesday next, the twenty-fourth of May current, in Boston, at two o'clock, post-meridian, to nominate and appoint Judges, Justices, and other officers of the Council and Courts of Justice within this their Majesties' Province belonging, and that notice thereof, or summons, be forthwith issued unto the members of the Council now absent." The following letter from Sir William Phips, to the Government at home, recently procured from England by Mr. Goodell, was published in the last volume of the _Collections of the Essex Institute_--Volume IX., Part II. I print it, entire, and request the reader to examine it, carefully, and to refer to it as occasion arises in this discussion, as it is a key to the whole transaction of the Witchcraft trials. Its opening sentence demonstrates the impression made by those who first met and surrounded him, on his excitable nature: "When I first arrived, I found this Province miserably harassed with a most horrible witchcraft or possession of devils, which had broke in upon several towns, some scores of poor people were taken with preternatural torments, some scalded with brimstone, some had pins stuck in their flesh, others hurried into the fire and water, and some dragged out of their houses and carried over the tops of trees and hills for many miles together; it hath been represented to me much like that of Sweden about thirty years ago; and there were many committed to prison upon suspicion of Witchcraft before my arrival. The loud cries and clamours of the friends of the afflicted people, with the advice of the Deputy-governor and many others, prevailed with me to give a Commission of Oyer and Terminer for discovering what Witchcraft might be at the bottom, or whether it were not a possession. The chief Judge in this Commission was the Deputy-governor, and the rest were persons of the best prudence and figure that could then be pitched upon. When the Court came to sit at Salem, in the County of Essex, they convicted more than twenty persons being guilty of witchcraft, some of the convicted confessed their guilt; the Court, as I understand, began their proceedings with the accusations of afflicted persons; and then went upon other humane evidences to strengthen that. I was, almost the whole time of the proceeding, abroad in the service of their Majesties, in the Eastern part of the country, and depended upon the judgment of the Court, as to a method of proceeding in cases of witchcraft; but when I came home I found many persons in a strange ferment of dissatisfaction, which was increased by some hot spirits that blew up the flame; but on inquiring into the matter I found that the Devil had taken upon him the name and shape of several persons who were doubtless innocent, and, to my certain knowledge, of good reputation; for which cause I have now forbidden the committing of any more that shall be accused, without unavoidable necessity, and those that have been committed I would shelter from any proceedings against them wherein there may be the least suspicion of any wrong to be done unto the innocent. I would also wait for any particular directions or commands, if their Majesties please to give me any, for the fuller ordering this perplexed affair. "I have also put a stop to the printing of any discourses one way or other, that may increase the needless disputes of people upon this occasion, because I saw a likelihood of kindling an inextinguishable flame if I should admit any public and open contests; and I have grieved to see that some, who should have done their Majesties, and this Province, better service, have so far taken council of passion as to desire the precipitancy of these matters; these things have been improved by some to give me many interruptions in their Majesties service [_which_] has been hereby unhappily clogged, and the persons, who have made so ill improvement of these matters here, are seeking to turn it upon me, but I hereby declare, that as soon as I came from fighting against their Majesties enemies, and understood what danger some of their innocent subjects might be exposed to, if the evidence of the afflicted persons only did prevail, either to the committing, or trying any of them, I did, before any application was made unto me about it, put a stop to the proceedings of the Court and they are now stopped till their Majesties pleasure be known. Sir, I beg pardon for giving you all this trouble; the reason is because I know my enemies are seeking to turn it all upon me. Sir, "I am Your most humble Serv^t WILLIAM PHIPS. "Dated at BOSTON IN NEW ENGLAND, the 14th of Oct^r 1692. "MEM^DM "That my Lord President be pleased to acquaint his Majesty in Council with the account received from New England, from Sir W^m Phips, the Governor there, touching proceedings against several persons for Witchcraft, as appears by the Governor's letter concerning those matters." The foregoing document, I repeat, indicates the kind of talk with which Phips was accosted, when stepping ashore. Exaggerated representations of the astonishing occurrences at Salem Village burst upon him from all, whom he would have been likely to meet. The manner in which the Mathers, through him, had got exclusive possession of the Government of the Province, probably kept him from mingling freely among, or having much opportunity to meet, any leading men, outside of his Council and the party represented therein. Writing in the ensuing October, at the moment when he had made up his mind to break loose from those who had led him to the hasty appointment of the Special Court, there is significance in his language. "I have grieved to see that some, who should have done their Majesties, and the Province, better service, have so far taken counsel of passion, as to desire the precipitancy of these matters." This refers to, and amounts to a condemnation of, the advisers who had influenced him to the rash measures adopted on his arrival. How rash and precipitate those measures were I now proceed to show. V. THE SPECIAL COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER. HOW IT WAS ESTABLISHED. WHO RESPONSIBLE FOR IT. THE GOVERNMENT OF THE PROVINCE CONCENTRATED IN ITS CHIEF-JUSTICE. So great was the pressure made upon Sir William Phips, by the wild panic to which the community had been wrought, that he ordered the persons who had been committed to prison by the Salem Magistrates, to be put in irons; but his natural kindness of heart and common sense led him to relax the unjustifiable severity. Professor Bowen, in his _Life of Phips_, embraced in Sparks's _American Biography_, [_vii., 81._] says: "Sir William seems not to have been in earnest in the proceeding; for the officers were permitted to evade the order, by putting on the irons indeed, but taking them off again, immediately." On Tuesday, the twenty-fourth of May, the Council met to consider the matter specially assigned to that day, namely, the nomination and appointment of Judicial officers. The Governor gave notice that he had issued Writs for the election of Representatives to convene in a General Court, to be held on the eighth of June. He also laid before the Council, the assigned business, which was "accordingly attended, and divers persons, in the respective Counties were named, and left for further consideration." On the twenty-fifth of May, the Council being again in session, the record says: "a further discourse was had about persons, in the several Counties, for Justices and other officers, and it was judged advisable to defer the consideration of fit persons for Judges, until there be an establishment of Courts of Justice." At the next meeting, on the twenty-seventh of May, it was ordered that the members of the Council, severally, and their Secretary, should be Justices of the Peace and Quorum, in the respective Counties where they reside: a long list, besides, was adopted, appointing the persons named in it Justices, as also Sheriffs and Coroners; and a SPECIAL COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER was established for the Counties of Suffolk, Essex, and Middlesex, consisting of William Stoughton, Chief-justice, John Richards, Nathaniel Saltonstall, Wait Winthrop, Bartholomew Gedney, Samuel Sewall, John Hathorne, Jonathan Corwin, and Peter Sargent, any five of them to be a quorum (Stoughton, Richards, or Gedney to be one of the five). When we consider that the subject had been specially assigned on the seventeenth, and discussed for two days, on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth, to the conclusion that the appointment of Judges ought to be deferred, "_until there be an establishment of Courts of Justice_,"--which by the Charter, could only be done by the General Court which was to meet, as the Governor had notified them, in less than a fortnight--the establishment of the Court of Oyer and Terminer, on the twenty-seventh, must be regarded as very extraordinary. It was acknowledged to be an unauthorized procedure; the deliberate judgment of the Council had been expressed against it; and there was no occasion for such hurry, as the Legislature was so soon to assemble. There must have been a strong outside pressure, from some quarter, to produce such a change of front. From Wednesday to Friday, some persons of great influence must have been hard at work. The reasons assigned, in the record, for this sudden reversal, by the Council, of its deliberate decision, are the great number of criminals waiting trial, the thronged condition of the jails, and "this hot season of the year," on the twenty-seventh of May! It is further stated, "there being no judicatures or Courts of Justice yet established," that, therefore, such an extraordinary step was necessary. It is, indeed, remarkable, that, in the face of their own recorded convictions of expediency and propriety, and in disregard of the provisions of the Charter which, a few days before, they had been sworn to obey, the Council could have been led to so far "take counsel of passion," as to rush over every barrier to this precipitate measure. No specific reference is anywhere made, in the Journals, to Witchcraft; but the Court was to act upon all cases of felony and other crimes. The "Council Records" were not obtained from England, until 1846. Writers have generally spoken of the Court as consisting of seven Judges. Saltonstall's resignation does not appear to have led to a new appointment; and, perhaps, Hathorne, who generally acted as an Examining Magistrate, and signed most of the Commitments of the prisoners, did not often, if ever, sit as a Judge. In this way, the Court may have been reduced to seven. Stephen Sewall was appointed Clerk, and George Corwin, High Sheriff. Thus established and organized, on the twenty-seventh of May, the Court sat, on the second of June, for the trial of Bridget Bishop. Her Death-warrant was signed, on the eighth of June, the very day the Legislature convened; and she was executed on the tenth. This was, indeed, "precipitancy." Before the General Court had time, possibly, to make "an establishment of Courts of Justice" in the exercise of the powers bestowed upon it by the Charter, this Special Court--suddenly sprung upon the country, against the deliberate first judgment of the Council itself, and not called for by any emergency of the moment which the General Court, just coming on the stage, could not legally, constitutionally, and adequately, have met--dipped its hands in blood; and an infatuated and appalled people and their representatives allowed the wheels of the Juggernaut to roll on. The question, who are responsible for the creation, in such hot haste, of this Court, and for its instant entrance upon its ruthless work, may not be fully and specifically answered, with absolute demonstration, but we may approach a satisfactory solution of it. We know that a word from either of the Mathers would have stopped it. Their relations to the Government were, then, controlling. Further, if, at that time, either of the other leading Ministers--Willard, or Allen--had demanded delay, it would have been necessary to pause; but none appear to have made open opposition; and all must share in the responsibility for subsequent events. Phips says that the affair at Salem Village was represented to him as "much like that of Sweden, about thirty years ago." This Swedish case was Cotton Mather's special topic. In his _Wonders of the Invisible World_, he says that "other good people have in this way been harassed, but none in circumstances more like to ours, than the people of God in Sweedland." He introduces, into the _Wonders_, a separate account of it; and reproduces it in his _Life of Phips_, incorporated subsequently into the _Magnalia_. The first point he makes, in presenting this case, is as follows: "The inhabitants had earnestly sought God in prayer, and yet their affliction continued. Whereupon Judges had a Special Commission to find, and root out the hellish crew; and the rather, because another County in the Kingdom, which had been so molested, was delivered upon the execution of the Witches."--_The Wonders of the Invisible World._ Edit. London, 1693, p. 48. The importance attached by Cotton Mather to the affair in Sweden, especially viewed in connection with the foregoing extract, indicates that the change, I have conjectured, had come over him, as to the way to deal with Witches; and that he had reached the conclusion that prayer would not, and nothing but the gallows could, answer the emergency. In the Swedish case, was found the precedent for a "Special Commission of Oyer and Terminer." Well might the Governor have felt the importance of relieving himself, as far as possible, from the responsibility of having organized such a Court, and of throwing it upon his advisers. The tribunal consisted of the Deputy-governor, as Chief-justice, and eight other persons, all members of the Council, and each, as has been shown, owing his seat, at that Board, to the Mathers. The recent publication of this letter of Governor Phips enables us now to explain certain circumstances, before hardly intelligible, and to appreciate the extent of the outrages committed by those who controlled the administration of the Province, during the Witchcraft trials. In 1767, Andrew Oliver, then Secretary of the Province, was directed to search the Records of the Government to ascertain precedents, touching a point of much interest at that time. From his Report, part of which is given in Drake's invaluable _History of Boston_, [_p. 728_] it appears that the Deputy-governor, Stoughton, by the appointment of the Governor, attended by the Secretary, administered the oaths to the members of the House of Representatives, convened on the eighth of June, 1692; that, as Deputy-governor, he sat in Council, generally, during that year, and was, besides, annually elected to the Council, until his death, in 1701. All that time, he was sitting, in the double capacity of an _ex-officio_ and an elected member; and for much the greater part of it, in the absence of Phips, as acting Governor. The Records show that he sat in Council when Sir William Phips was present, and presided over it, when he was not present, and ever after Phips's decease, until a new Governor came over in 1699. His annual election, by the House of Representatives, as one of the twenty-eight Councillors, while, as Deputy or acting Governor, he was entitled to a seat, is quite remarkable. It gave him a distinct legislative character, and a right, as an elected member of the body, to vote and act, directly, in all cases, without restraint or embarrassment, in debate and on Committees, in the making, as well as administering, the law. In the letter now under consideration, Governor Phips says: "I was almost the whole time of the proceeding abroad, in the Service of their Majesties in the Eastern part of the country." The whole tenor of the letter leaves an impression that, being so much away from the scene, in frequent and long absences, he was not cognizant of what was going on. He depended "upon the judgment of the Court," as to its methods of proceeding; and was surprised when those methods were brought to his attention. Feeling his own incapacity to handle such a business, he was willing to leave it to those who ought to have been more competent. Indeed, he passed the whole matter over to the Deputy-governor. In a letter, for which I am indebted to Mr. Goodell, dated the twentieth of February, 1693, to the Earl of Nottingham, transmitting copies of laws passed by the General Court, Governor Phips says: "Not being versed in law, I have depended upon the Lieu^t Gov^r, who is appointed Judge of the Courts, to see that they be exactly agreeable to the laws of England, and not repugnant in any part. If there be any error, I know it will not escape your observation, and desire a check may be given for what may be amiss." The closing sentence looks somewhat like a want of confidence in the legal capacity and judgment of Stoughton, owing perhaps, to the bad work he had made at the Salem trials, the Summer before; but the whole passage shows that Phips, conscious of his own ignorance of such things, left them wholly to the Chief-justice. The Records show that he sat in Council to the close of the Legislature, on the second of July. But the main business was, evidently, under the management of Stoughton, who was Chairman of a large Joint Committee, charged with adjusting the whole body of the laws to the transition of the Colony, from an independent Government, under the first Charter, to the condition of a subject Province. One person had been tried and executed; and the Court was holding its second Session when the Legislature adjourned. Phips went to the eastward, immediately after the eighth of July. Again, on the first of August, he embarked from Boston with a force of four hundred and fifty men, for the mouth of the Kennebec. In the Archives of Massachusetts, Secretary's office, State House, Vol. LI., p. 9, is the original document, signed by Phips, dated on the first of August, 1692, turning over the Government to Stoughton, during his absence. It appears by Church's _Eastern Expeditions_, Part II., p. 82, edited by H. M. Dexter, and published by Wiggin & Lunt, Boston, 1867, that, during a considerable part of the month of August, the Governor must have been absent, engaged in important operations on the coast of Maine. About the middle of September, he went again to the Kennebec, not returning until a short time before the twelfth of October. In the course of the year, he also was absent for a while in Rhode Island. Although an energetic and active man, he had as much on his hands, arising out of questions as to the extent of his authority over Connecticut and Rhode Island and the management of affairs at the eastward, as he could well attend to. His Instructions, too, from the Crown, made it his chief duty to protect the eastern portions of his Government. The state of things there, in connection with Indian assaults and outrages upon the outskirt settlements, under French instigation, was represented as urgently demanding his attention. Besides all this, his utmost exertions were needed to protect the sea-coast against buccaneers. In addition to the public necessities, thus calling him to the eastward, it was, undoubtedly, more agreeable to his feelings, to revisit his native region and the home of his early years, where, starting from the humblest spheres of mechanical labor and maritime adventure, as a ship-carpenter and sailor, he had acquired the manly energy and enterprise that had conducted him to fortune, knightly honor, and the Commission of Governor of New England. All the reminiscences and best affections of his nature made him prompt to defend the region thus endeared to him. It was much more congenial to his feelings than to remain under the ceremonial and puritanic restraints of the seat of Government, and involved in perplexities with which he had no ability, and probably no taste, to grapple. He was glad to take himself out of the way; and as his impetuous and impulsive nature rendered those under him liable to find him troublesome, they were not sorry to have him called elsewhere. I have mentioned these things as justifying the impression, conveyed by his letter, that he knew but little of what was going on until his return in the earlier half of October. Actual absence at a distance, the larger part of the time, and engrossing cares in getting up expeditions and supplies for them while he was at home--particularly as, from the beginning, he had passed over the business of the Court entirely to his Deputy, Stoughton--it is not difficult to suppose, had prevented his mind being much, if at all, turned towards it. We may, therefore, consider that the witchcraft prosecutions were wholly under the control of Stoughton and those, who, having given him power, would naturally have influence over his exercise of it. Calling in question the legality of the Court, Hutchinson expresses a deep sense of the irregularity of its proceedings; although, as he says, "the most important Court to the life of the subject which ever was held in the Province," it meets his unqualified censure, in many points. In reference to the instance of the Jury's bringing in a verdict of "Not guilty," in the case of Rebecca Nurse, and being induced, by the dissatisfaction of the Court, to go out again, and bring her in "Guilty," he condemns the procedure. Speaking of a wife or husband being allowed to accuse one the other, he breaks out: "I shudder while I am relating it;" and giving the results at the last trial, he says: "This Court of Oyer and Terminer, happy for the country, sat no more." Its proceedings were arbitrary, harsh, and rash. The ordinary forms of caution and fairness were disregarded. The Judges made no concealment of a foregone conclusion against the Prisoners at the Bar. No Counsel was allowed them. The proceedings were summary; and execution followed close upon conviction. While it was destroying the lives of men and women, of respectable position in the community, of unblemished and eminent Christian standing, heads of families, aged men and venerable matrons, all the ordinary securities of society, outside of the tribunal, were swept away. In the absence of Sir William Phips, the Chief-justice absolutely absorbed into his own person the whole Government. His rulings swayed the Court, in which he acted the part of prosecutor of the Prisoners, and overbore the Jury. He sat in judgment upon the sentences of his own Court; and heard and refused, applications and supplications for pardon or reprieve. The three grand divisions of all constitutional or well-ordered Governments were, for the time, obliterated in Massachusetts. In the absence of Phips, the Executive functions were exercised by Stoughton. While presiding over the Council, he also held a seat as an elected ordinary member, thus participating in, as well as directing, its proceedings, sharing, as a leader, in legislation, acting on Committees, and framing laws. As Chief-justice, he was the head of the Judicial department. He was Commander-in-chief of the military and naval forces and forts within the Province proper. All administrative, legislative, judicial, and military powers were concentrated in his person and wielded by his hand. No more shameful tyranny or shocking despotism was ever endured in America, than, in "the dark and awful day," as it was called, while the Special Commission of Oyer and Terminer was scattering destruction, ruin, terror, misery and death, over the country. It is a disgrace to that generation, that it was so long suffered; and, instead of trying to invent excuses, it becomes all subsequent generations to feel--as was deeply felt, by enlightened and candid men, as soon as the storm had blown over and a prostrate people again stood erect, in possession of their senses--that all ought, by humble and heart-felt prayer, to implore the divine forgiveness, as one of the Judges, fully as misguided at the time as the rest, did, to the end of his days. As all the official dignities of the Province were combined in Stoughton, he seems hardly to have known in what capacity he was acting, as different occasions arose. He signed the Death-warrant of Bridget Bishop, without giving himself any distinctive title, with his bare name and his private seal. It is easy to imagine how this lodging of the whole power of the State in one man, destroyed all safeguards and closed every door of refuge. When the express messenger of the poor young wife of John Willard, or the heroic daughter of Elizabeth How, or the agents of the people of the village, of all classes, combined in supplication in behalf of Rebecca Nurse, rushing to Boston to lay petitions for pardon before the Governor, upon being admitted to his presence, found themselves confronted by the stern countenance of the same person, who, as Chief-justice, had closed his ears to mercy and frowned the Jury into Conviction; their hearts sunk within them, and all realized that even hope had taken flight from the land. Such was the political and public administration of the Province of Massachusetts, during the Summer of 1692, under which the Witchcraft prosecutions were carried on. It was conducted by men whom the Mathers had brought into office, and who were wholly in their counsels. If there is, I repeat, an instance in history where particular persons are responsible for the doings of a Government, this is one. I conclude these general views of the influence of Increase and Cotton Mather upon the ideas of the people and the operations of the Government, eventuating in the Witchcraft tragedy, by restating a proposition, which, under all the circumstances, cannot, I think, be disputed, that, if they had been really and earnestly opposed to the proceedings, at any stage, they could and would have stopped them. I now turn to a more specific consideration of the subject of Cotton Mather's connection with the Witchcraft delusion of 1692. VI. COTTON MATHER'S CONNECTION WITH THE COURT. SPECTRAL EVIDENCE. LETTER TO JOHN RICHARDS. ADVICE OF THE MINISTERS. I am charged with having misrepresented the part Cotton Mather, in particular, bore in this passage of our history. As nearly the whole community had been deluded at the time, and there was a general concurrence in aiding oblivion to cover it, it is difficult to bring it back, in all its parts, within the realm of absolute knowledge. Records--municipal, ecclesiastical, judicial, and provincial--were willingly suffered to perish; and silence, by general consent, pervaded correspondence and conversation. Notices of it are brief, even in the most private Diaries. It would have been well, perhaps, if the memory of that day could have been utterly extinguished; but it has not. On the contrary, as, in all manner of false and incorrect representations, it has gone into the literature of the country and the world and become mixed with the permanent ideas of mankind, it is right and necessary to present the whole transaction, so far as possible, in the light of truth. Every right-minded man must rejoice to have wrong, done to the reputation of the dead or living, repaired; and I can truly say that no one would rejoice more than I should, if the view presented of Cotton Mather, in the _North American Review_, of April, 1869, could be shown to be correct. In this spirit, I proceed to present the evidence that belongs to the question. The belief of the existence of a personal Devil was then all but universally entertained. So was the belief of ghosts, apparitions, and spectres. There was no more reluctance to think or speak of them than of what we call natural objects and phenomena. Great power was ascribed to the Devil over terrestrial affairs; but it had been the prevalent opinion, that he could not operate upon human beings in any other way than through the instrumentality of other human beings, in voluntary confederation with him; and that, by means of their spectres, he could work any amount of mischief. While this opinion prevailed, the testimony of a witness, that he had seen the spectre of a particular person afflicting himself or any one else, was regarded as proof positive that the person, thus spectrally represented, was in league with the Devil, or, in other words, a Witch. This idea had been abandoned by some writers, who held that the Devil could make use of the spectre of an innocent person, to do mischief; and that, therefore, it was not positive or conclusive proof that any one was a Witch because his spectre had been seen tormenting others. The logical conclusion, from the views of these later writers, was that spectral evidence, as it was called, bearing against an accused party, was wholly unreliable and must be thrown out, entirely, in all cases. The Reviewer says the "Clergy of New England" adopted the views of the writers just alluded to, and held that spectral evidence was unreliable and unsafe, and ought to be utterly rejected; and particularly maintains that such was the opinion of Cotton Mather. It is true that they professed to have great regard for those writers; but it is also true, that neither Mather nor the other Ministers in 1692, adopted the conclusion which the Reviewer allows to be inevitably demanded by sound reason and common sense, namely, that "no spectral evidence must be admitted." On the contrary, they did authorize the "admission" of spectral evidence. This I propose to prove; and if I succeed in doing it, the whole fabric of the article in the _North American Review_ falls to the ground. It is necessary, at this point, to say a word as to the _Mather Papers_. They were published by a Committee of the Massachusetts Historical Society, in 1868. My work was published in 1867. The Reviewer, and certain journals that have committed themselves to his support, charge me with great negligence in not having consulted those papers, _not then in print_. Upon inquiry, while making my researches, I was informed, by those having them in hand preparatory to their going to press, that they contained nothing at all essential to my work; and the information was correct. Upon examining the printed volume, I cannot find a single item that would require an alteration, addition, or omission to be made in my work. But they are quite serviceable in the discussion to which the article in the _North American Review_ compels me. To return to the issue framed by the Reviewer. He makes a certain absolute assertion, repeats it in various forms, and confidently assumes it, all the way through, as in these passages: "Stoughton admitted spectral evidence; Mather, in his writings on the subject, denounced it, as illegal, uncharitable, and cruel." "He ever testified against it, both publicly and privately; and, particularly in his Letter to the Judges, he besought them that they would by no means admit it; and when a considerable assembly of Ministers gave in their _Advice_ about the matter, he not only concurred with the advice, but he drew it up." "The _Advice_ was very specific in excluding spectral testimony." He relies, in the first place, and I may say chiefly, in maintaining this position--namely, that Mather denounced the _admission_ of spectral testimony and demanded its _exclusion_--upon a sentence in a letter from Cotton Mather to John Richards, called by the Reviewer "his Letter to the Judges," among the _Mather Papers_, p. 891. Hutchinson informs us that Richards came into the country in low circumstances, but became an opulent merchant, in Boston. He was a member of Mather's Church, and one of the Special Court to try the witches. Its Session was to commence in the first week, probably on Thursday, the second day of June. The letter, dated on Tuesday, the thirty-first of May, is addressed to John Richards alone; and commences with a strong expression of regret that quite a severe indisposition will prevent his accompanying him to the trials. "Excuse me," he says, "from waiting upon you, with the utmost of my little skill and care, to assist the noble service, whereto you are called of God this week, the service of encountering the wicked spirits in the high places of our air, and of detecting and confounding of their confederates." He hopes, before the Court "gets far into the mysterious affair," to be able to "attend the desires" of Richards, which, to him "always are commands." He writes the letter, "for the strengthening of your honorable hands in that work of God whereto, (I thank him) he hath so well fitted you." After some other complimentary language, and assurances that God's "people have been fasting and praying before him for your direction," he proceeds to urge upon him his favorite Swedish case, wherein the "endeavours of the Judges to discover and extirpate the authors of that execrable witchcraft," were "immediately followed with a remarkable smile of God." Then comes the paragraph, which the Reviewer defiantly cites, to prove that Cotton Mather agreed with him, in the opinion that spectre evidence ought not to be "admitted." Before quoting the paragraph, I desire the reader to note the manner in which the affair in Sweden is brought to the attention of Richards, in the clauses just cited, in connection with what I have said in this article, page 16. Cotton Mather was in possession of a book on this subject. "It comes to speak English," he says, "by the acute pen of the excellent and renowned Dr. Horneck." Who so likely as Mather to have brought the case to the notice of Phips, pp. 14. It was urged upon Richards at about the same time that it was upon Phips; and as an argument in favor of "_extirpating_" witches, by the _action of a Court of Oyer and Terminer_. The paragraph is as follows: "And yet I must most humbly beg you that in the management of the affair in your most worthy hands, you do not lay more stress upon pure Spectre testimony than it will bear. When you are satisfied, and have good plain legal evidence, that the Demons which molest our poor neighbors do indeed represent such and such people to the sufferers, though this be a presumption, yet I suppose you will not reckon it a conviction that the people so represented are witches to be immediately exterminated. It is very certain that the Devils have sometimes represented the Shapes of persons not only innocent, but also very virtuous. Though I believe that the just God then ordinarily provides a way for the speedy vindication of the persons thus abused. Moreover, I do suspect that persons, who have too much indulged themselves in malignant, envious, malicious ebullitions of their souls, may unhappily expose themselves to the judgment of being represented by Devils, of whom they never had any vision, and with whom they have, much less, written any covenant. I would say this; if upon the bare supposal of a poor creature being represented by a spectre, too great a progress be made by the authority in ruining a poor neighbor so represented, it may be that a door may be thereby opened for the Devils to obtain from the Courts in the invisible world a license to proceed unto most hideous desolations upon the repute and repose of such as have yet been kept from the great transgression. If mankind have thus far once consented unto the credit of diabolical representations, the door is opened! Perhaps there are wise and good men, that may be ready to style him that shall advance this caution, a Witch-advocate, but in the winding up, this caution will certainly be wished for." This passage, strikingly illustrative, as it is, of Mather's characteristic style of appearing, to a cursory, careless reader, to say one thing, when he is really aiming to enforce another, while it has deceived the Reviewer, and led him to his quixotic attempt to revolutionize history, cannot be so misunderstood by a critical interpreter. In its general drift, it appears, at first sight, to disparage spectral evidence. The question is: Does it forbid, denounce, or dissuade, its introduction? By no means. It supposes and allows its introduction, but says, _lay not more stress upon it than it will bear_. Further, it affirms that it may afford "presumption" of guilt, though not sufficient for conviction, and removes objection to its introduction, by holding out the idea that, if admitted by the Court and it bears against innocent persons, "the just God, then, ordinarily provides a way for their speedy vindication." It is plain that the paragraph refers, not to the _admission_ of "diabolical representations," but to the _manner_ in which they are to be received, in the "management" of the trials, as will more fully appear, as we proceed. The suggestion, to reconcile Richards to the use of spectral evidence, that something would "ordinarily" providentially turn up to rescue innocent persons, against whom it was borne, was altogether delusive. It was an opinion of the day, that one of the most signal marks of the Devil's descent with power, would be the seduction, to his service, of persons of the most eminent character, even, if possible, of the very elect; and, hence, no amount of virtue or holiness of life or conversation, could be urged in defence of any one. The records of the world present no more conspicuous instances of Christian and saintlike excellence than were exhibited by Rebecca Nurse and Elizabeth How; but spectral testimony was allowed to destroy them. Indeed, it was impossible for a Court to put any restrictions on this kind of evidence, if once received. If the accusing girls exclaimed--all of them concurring, at the moment, in the declaration and in its details--that they saw, at that very instant, in the Court-room, before Judges and Jury, the spectre of the Prisoner assailing one of their number, and that one showing signs of suffering, what could be done to rebut their testimony? The character of the accused was of no avail. An _alibi_ could not touch the case. The distance from the Prisoner to the party professing to be tormented, was of no account. The whole proceeding was on the assumption that, however remote the body of the Prisoner, his or her spectre was committing the assault. No limitation of space or time could be imposed on the spectral presence. "Good, plain, legal evidence" was out of the question, where the Judges assumed, as Mather did, that "the molestations" then suffered by the people of the neighbourhood, were the work of Demons, and fully believed that the tortures and convulsions of the accusers, before their eyes, were, as alleged, caused by the spectres of the accused. To cut the matter short. The considerations Mather presents of the "inconvenience," as he calls it, of the spectral testimony, it might be supposed, would have led him to counsel--not as he did, against making "too great a progress" in its use--but its abandonment altogether. Why did he not, as the Reviewer says ought always have been done, protest utterly against its admission at all? The truth is, that neither in this letter, nor in any way, at any time, did he ever recommend caution _against_ its use, but _in_ its use. It may be asked, what did he mean by "not laying more stress upon spectre testimony than it will bear," and the general strain of the paragraph? A solution of this last question may be reached as we continue the scrutiny of his language and actions. In this same letter, Mather says: "I look upon wounds that have been given unto spectres, and received by witches, as intimations, broad enough, in concurrence with other things, to bring out the guilty. Though I am not fond of assaying to give such wounds, yet, the proof [_of_] such, when given, carries with it what is very palpable." This alludes to a particular form of spectral evidence. One of the "afflicted children" would testify that she saw and felt the spectre of the accused, tormenting her, and struck at it. A corresponding wound or bruise was found on the body, or a rent in the garments, of the accused. Mather commended this species of evidence, writing to one of the Judges, on the eve of the trials. He not only commends, but urges it as conclusive of guilt. Referring to what constituted the bulk of the evidence of the accusing girls, and which was wholly spectral in its nature--namely, that they were "hurt" by an "unseen hand"--he charges Richards, if he finds such "hurt" to be inflicted by the persons accused, "Hold them, for you have catched a witch." He recommends putting the Prisoners upon repeating the "Lord's prayer" or certain "other Systems of Christianity." He endorses the evidence derived from "poppits," "witch-marks," and even the "water ordeal." He advised a Judge, just proceeding to sit in cases of life and death, to make use of "cross and swift questions," as the means of bringing the accused "into confusion, likely to lead them into confession." Whoever examines, carefully, this letter to Richards, cannot, I think, but conclude that, instead of exonerating Mather, it fixes upon him the responsibility for the worst features of the Witchcraft Trials. The next document on which the Reviewer relies is the _Return of the Ministers consulted by his Excellency and the honorable Council, upon the present Witchcraft in Salem Village_. It is necessary to give it entire, as follows: ["I. The afflicted state of our poor neighbours, that are now suffering by molestations from the invisible world, we apprehend so deplorable, that we think their condition calls for the utmost help of all persons in their several capacities. "II. We cannot but, with all thankfulness, acknowledge the success which the merciful God has given to the sedulous and assiduous endeavours of our honorable rulers, to defeat the abominable witchcrafts which have been committed in the country, humbly praying, that the discovery of those mysterious and mischievous wickednesses may be perfected.] "III. We judge that, in the prosecution of these and all such witchcrafts, there is need of a very critical and exquisite caution, lest by too much credulity for things received only upon the Devil's authority, there be a door opened for a long train of miserable consequences, and Satan get an advantage over us; for we should not be ignorant of his devices. "IV. As in complaints upon witchcrafts there may be matters of enquiry which do not amount unto matters of presumption, and there may be matters of presumption which yet may not be reckoned matters of conviction, so it is necessary, that all proceedings thereabout be managed with an exceeding tenderness towards those that may be complained of, especially if they have been persons formerly of an unblemished reputation. "V. When the first inquiry is made into the circumstances of such as may lie under any just suspicion of witchcrafts, we could wish that there may be admitted as little as possible of such noise, company, and openness, as may too hastily expose them that are examined; and that there may nothing be used as a test for the trial of the suspected, the lawfulness whereof may be doubted among the people of God; but that the directions given by such judicious writers as Perkins and Bernard may be consulted in such a case. "VI. Presumptions whereupon persons may be committed, and, much more, convictions whereupon persons may be condemned as guilty of witchcrafts, ought certainly to be more considerable than barely the accused persons being represented by a spectre unto the afflicted; [inasmuch as it is an undoubted and a notorious thing, that a Demon may, by God's permission, appear, even to ill purposes, in the shape of an innocent, yea, and a virtuous man.] Nor can we esteem alterations made in the sufferers, by a look or touch of the accused, to be an infallible evidence of guilt, but frequently liable to be abused by the Devil's legerdemain. "VII. We know not whether some remarkable affront, given the Devil, by our disbelieving of those testimonies, whose whole force and strength is from him alone, may not put a period unto the progress of the dreadful calamity begun upon us, in the accusation of so many persons, whereof some, we hope, are yet clear from the great transgression laid to their charge. ["VIII. Nevertheless, we cannot but humbly recommend unto the Government, the speedy and vigorous prosecutions of such as have rendered themselves obnoxious, according to the directions given in the laws of God, and the wholesome Statutes of the English nation, for the detection of Witchcrafts."] I have enclosed the _first_, _second_ and _eighth_ Sections, and a part of the _sixth_, in brackets, for purposes that will appear, in a subsequent part of this discussion. The _Advice of the Ministers_ was written by Cotton Mather. As in his letter to Richards, he does not caution _against_ the use, but _in_ the use, of spectral evidence. Not a word is said denouncing its introduction or advising its entire rejection. We look in vain for a line or a syllable disapproving the trial and execution just had, resting as they did, entirely upon spectral evidence: on the contrary, the _second_ Section applauds what had been done; and prays that the work entered upon may be perfected. The first clauses in the _fourth_ Section sanction its admission, as affording ground of "presumption," although "it may not be matter of conviction." The _sixth_ Section, while it appears to convey the idea that spectral evidence alone ought not to be regarded as sufficient, contains, at the same time, a form of expression, that not only requires its reception, but places its claims on the highest possible grounds. "_A Demon may, by GOD'S PERMISSION, appear, even to ill purposes, in the shape of an innocent, yea, and a virtuous man._" It is sufficiently shocking to think that anything, _to ill purposes_, can be done by Divine permission; but horrible, indeed, to intimate that the Devil can have that permission to malign and murder an innocent person. If the spectre appears by God's permission, the effect produced has his sanction. The blasphemous supposition that God permits the Devil thus to bear false witness, to the destruction of the righteous, overturns all the sentiments and instincts of our moral and religious nature. In using this language, the Ministers did not have a rational apprehension of what they were saying, which is the only apology for much of the theological phraseology of that day. This phrase, "God's permission," had quite a currency at the time; and if it did not reconcile the mind, subdued it to wondering and reverent silence. It will be seen that Mather, on other occasions, repeated this idea, in various and sometimes stronger terms. The _third_, _fifth_, _seventh_, and last clauses of the _fourth_ Sections, contain phrases which will become intelligible, as we advance in the examination of Mather's writings, relating to the subject of witchcraft. Here it may, again, be safely said, that if Increase and Cotton Mather had really, as the Reviewer affirms, been opposed to the _admission_ of spectral testimony, this was the time for them to have said so. If, at this crisis, they had "denounced it, as illegal, uncharitable and cruel," no more blood would have been shed. If the _Advice_ had even recommended, in the most moderate terms, its absolute exclusion from every stage of the proceedings, they would have come to an end. But it assumes its introduction, and only suggests "disbelief" of it, in avoiding to act upon it, in "some" instances. Hutchinson states the conclusion of the matter, after quoting the whole document. "The Judges seem to have paid more regard to the last article of this _Return_, than to several which precede it; for the prosecutions were carried on with all possible vigor, and without that exquisite caution which is proposed."--_History_, ii., 54. The _Advice_ was skilfully--it is not uncharitable to say--artfully drawn up. It has deceived the Reviewer into his statement that it was "very specific in excluding spectral testimony." A careless reader, or one whose eyes are blinded by a partisan purpose, may not see its real import. The paper is so worded as to mislead persons not conversant with the ideas and phraseology of that period. But it was considered by all the Judges, and the people in general, fully to endorse the proceedings in the trial of Bridget Bishop, and to advise their speedy and vigorous continuance. It was spectral testimony that overwhelmed her. It was the fatal element that wrought the conviction of every person put on trial, from first to last; as was fully proved, five months afterwards, when Sir William Phips, under circumstances I shall describe, bravely and peremptorily forbid, as the Ministers failed to do, the "trying," or even "committing," of any one, on the evidence of "the afflicted persons," which was wholly spectral. When thus, by his orders, it was utterly thrown out, the life of the prosecutions became, at once, extinct; and, as Mather says, the accused were cleared as fast as they were tried.--_Magnalia_, Book II., page 64. The suggestion that caution was to be used in handling this species of evidence, and that it was to be received as affording grounds of "presumption," to be corroborated or reinforced by other evidence, practically was of no avail. If received, at all, in any stage, or under any name, it necessarily controlled every case. No amount of evidence, of other kinds, could counterbalance or stand against it: nothing was needed to give it full and fatal effect. It struck Court, Jury, and people, nay, even the Prisoners themselves, in many instances, with awe. It dispensed, as has been mentioned, with the presence of the accused, on the spot, where and when the crime was alleged to have been committed, or within miles or hundreds of miles of it. No reputation for virtue or piety could be pleaded against it. The doctrine which Cotton Mather proclaimed, on another occasion, that the Devil might appear as Angel of Light, completed the demolition of the securities of innocence. There was no difficulty in getting "other testimony" to give it effect. In the then state of the public mind, indiscriminately crediting every tale of slander and credulity, looking at every thing through the refracting and magnifying atmosphere of the blindest and wildest passions, it was easy to collect materials to add to the spectral evidence, thereby, according to the doctrine of the Ministers, to raise the "presumption," to the "conviction" of guilt. Even our Reviewer finds evidence to "substantiate" that, given against George Burroughs, resting on spectres, in his feats of strength, in some malignant neighborhood scandals, and in exaggerated forms of parish or personal animosities. VII. ADVICE OF THE MINISTERS, FURTHER CONSIDERED. COTTON MATHER'S PLAN FOR DEALING WITH SPECTRAL TESTIMONY. The _Advice of the Ministers_ is a document that holds a prominent place in our public history; and its relation to events needs to be elucidated. In his _Life of Sir William Phips_, Cotton Mather has this paragraph: "And Sir William Phips arriving to his Government, after this ensnaring horrible storm was begun, did consult the neighboring Ministers of the Province, who made unto his Excellency and the Council, a Return (drawn up, at their desire, by Mr. Mather, the younger, as I have been informed) wherein they declared."--_Magnalia_, Book II., page 63. He then gives, without intimating that any essential or substantial part of the _declaration_, or _Advice_, was withheld, the Sections _not_ included in brackets.--_Vide_, pages 21, 22, _ante_. It is to be observed that Phips is represented as having asked the Ministers for their advice, and their answer as having been made to his "Excellency and the Council." There is no mention of this transaction in the Records of the Council. Phips makes no reference to it in his letter of the fourteenth of October, which is remarkable, as it would have been to his purpose, in explaining the grounds of his procedure, in organizing, and putting into operation, the judicial tribunal at Salem. It may be concluded, from all that I shall present,--Sir William, having given over the whole business to his Deputy and Chief-justice, with an understanding that he was authorized to manage it, in all particulars,--that this transaction with the Ministers may never have been brought to the notice of the Governor at all: his official character and title were, perhaps, referred to, as a matter of form. The Council, as such, had nothing to do with it; but the Deputy-governor and certain individual members of the Council, that is, those who, with him, as Chief-justice, constituted the Special Court, asked and received the _Advice_. Again: the paragraph, as constructed by Mather, just quoted, certainly leaves the impression on a reader, that Phips applied for the _Advice of the Ministers_, at or soon after his arrival. The evidence, I think, is conclusive, that the _Advice_ was not asked, until after the first Session of the Court had been held. This is inferrible from the answer of the Ministers, which is dated thirteen days after the first trial, and five days after the execution of a sentence then passed. It alludes to the _success_ which had been given to the prosecutions. If the Government had asked counsel of the Ministers before the trials commenced, it is inexplicable and incredible, besides being inexcusable, that the Ministers should have delayed their reply until after the first act of the awful tragedy had passed, and blood begun to be shed. Hutchinson expressly says: "The further trials were put off to the adjournment, the thirtieth of June. The Governor and Council thought proper, _in the mean time_, to take the opinion of several of the principal Ministers, upon the state of things, as they then stood. This was an old Charter practice."--_History_, ii., 52. It has been regarded as a singular circumstance, that after such pains had been taken, and so great a stretch of power practised, to put a Court so suddenly in operation to try persons accused of witchcraft, on the pretence, too, recorded in the Journal of the Council, of the "thronged" condition of the jails, at that "hot season," and after trying one person only, it should have adjourned for four weeks. Perhaps, by a collation of passages and dates, we may reach a probable explanation. In his letter to "the Ministers in and near Boston," written in January, 1696, after considering briefly, and in forcible language, the fearful errors from which the Delusion of 1692 had risen, and solemnly reminding them of what they ought to have done to lead their people out of such errors, Calef brings their failure to do it home to them, in these pungent words: "If, instead of this, you have some by word and writing propagated, and others recommended, such doctrines, and abetted the false notions which are so prevalent in this apostate age, it is high time to consider it. If, when authority found themselves almost nonplust in such prosecutions, and sent to you for your advice what they ought to do, and you have then thanked them for what they had already done (and thereby encouraged them to proceed in those very by-paths already fallen into) it so much the more nearly concerns you. _Ezek._, xxxiii., 2 to 8."--_Calef_, 92. Looking at this passage, in connection with that quoted just before from Hutchinson, we gather that something had occurred that "nonplust" the Court--some serious embarrassment, that led to its sudden adjournment--after the condemnation of Bridget Bishop, while many other cases had been fully prepared for trial by the then Attorney-general. Newton, and the parties to be tried had, the day before, been brought to Salem from the jail in Boston, and were ready to be put to the Bar. What was the difficulty? The following may be the solution. Brattle informs us, and he was able to speak with confidence, that "Major N. Saltonstall, Esq., who was one of the Judges, has left the Court, and is very much dissatisfied with the proceedings of it."--_Massachusetts Historical Collections, I., v., 75._ The questions arise; When and why did he leave the Court? The Records of the Council show that he was constant in his attendance at that Board, his name always appearing at the head of the roll of those present, until the sixteenth of June, from which date it does not appear again until the middle of February, 1693. The Legislature, in the exercise of its powers, under the Charter, had, near the close of 1692, established a regular Superior Court, consisting of Stoughton, Danforth--who had disapproved of the proceedings of the Special Court--Richards, Wait Winthrop, and Sewall. It continued, in January, 1693, witchcraft trials; but spectral evidence being wholly rejected, the prosecutions all broke down; and Stoughton, in consequence, left the Court in disgust. After all had been abandoned, and his own course, thereby, vindicated, Major Saltonstall re-appeared at the Council Board; and was re-elected by the next House of Representatives. His conduct, therefore, was very marked and significant. In the only way in which he, a country member, could express his convictions, as there were no such facilities, in the press or otherwise, for public discussions, as we now have, he made them emphatically known; and is worthy of the credit of being the only public man of his day who had the sense or courage to condemn the proceedings, at the start. He was a person of amiable and genial deportment; and, from the County Court files, in which his action, as a Magistrate, is exhibited in several cases, it is evident that he was methodical and careful in official business, but susceptible of strong impressions and convictions, and had, on a previous occasion manifested an utter want of confidence in certain parties, who, it became apparent at the first Session of the Court, were to figure largely in hearing spectral testimony, in most of the cases. He had no faith in those persons, and was thus, we may suppose, led to discredit, wholly, that species of testimony. From his attendance at the Council Board, up to the sixteenth of June, the day when the _Advice of the Ministers_ was probably received, it may be assumed that he attended also, to that time, the sittings of the Court; and that when he withdrew from the former, he did also from the latter. The date indicates that his action, in withdrawing, was determined by the import of the _Advice_. If a gentleman of his position and family, a grandson of an original Patentee, Sir Richard Saltonstall, and sitting as a Judge at the first trial, had the independence and manly spirit to express, without reserve, his disapprobation of the proceedings, the expression of Calef is explained; and the Court felt the obstacle that was in their way. Hence the immediate adjournment, and the resort to some extraordinary expedient, to remove it. This may account for the appeal to the Ministers. Great interest must have been felt in their reply, by all cognizant of the unexpected difficulty that had occurred. The document was admirably adapted to throw dust into the eyes of those who had expressed doubts and misgivings; but it did not deceive Saltonstall. He saw that it would be regarded by the other Judges, and the public in general, as an encouragement to continue the trials; and that, under the phraseology of what had the aspect of caution, justification would be found for the introduction, to an extent that would control the trials, of spectral evidence. The day after its date, he left his seat at the Council Board, withdrew from the Court, and washed his hands of the whole matter. The course of events demonstrates that the _Advice_ was interpreted, by all concerned, as applauding what had been done at the first trial, and earnestly urging that the work, thus begun, should be speedily and vigorously prosecuted. Upon the Ministers, therefore, rests the stigma for all that followed. There may have been, at that time, as there was not long afterward, some difference of opinion among the Ministers; and the paper may have had the character of a compromise--always dangerous and vicious, bringing some or all parties into a false position. Samuel Willard may have held, then, the opinion expressed in a pamphlet ascribed to him, published, probably, towards the close of the trials, that spectral evidence ought only to be allowed where it bore upon persons of bad reputation. The _fourth_ Section conciliated his assent to the document. This might have been the view of Increase Mather, who, after the trials by the Special Court were over, indicated an opinion, that time for further diligent "search" ought to have been allowed, before proceeding to "the execution of the most capital offenders;" and declared the very excellent sentiment, that "it becomes those of his profession to be very tender in the shedding of blood." The expressions, "exceeding tenderness," in the _fourth_ Section, and "the first inquiry," in the _fifth_--the latter conveying the idea of repeated investigations with intervals of time--were well adapted to gain his support of the whole instrument. If they were led to concur in the _Advice_, by such inducements, they were soon undeceived. "Unblemished reputation" was no protection; and the proceedings at the trials were swift, summary, and conclusive. It may be proper, at this point, to inquire what was meant by the peculiar phraseology of the _third_, _fifth_, _seventh_, and latter part of the _fourth_, Sections. It is difficult, writing as Cotton Mather often did, and had great skill in doing, in what Calef calls "the ambidexter" style, to ascertain his ideas. After the reaction had taken effect in the public mind, and he was put upon the defensive, he had much to say about some difference between him and the Judges. It clearly had nothing to do with the "admission" of spectral evidence; for that was the point on which the opinion of the Ministers was asked, and on which he voluntarily proffered remarks in his letter to one of the Judges, Richards. If he had been opposed to its "admission," nothing would have been easier, safer, or more demanded by the truth and his own honor, than for him to have said so. Indeed, his writings everywhere show that he was almost a _one idea_ man, on the subject of spectres; and, in some way or form, deemed their evidence indispensable and reliable. He, evidently, had some favorite plan or scheme, as to the method in which that kind of evidence was to be handled; and it was because he could not get it carried into effect, and for this reason alone, so far as we can discover, that he disapproved of the methods actually pursued by the Court. He never disclosed his plan, but shrunk from explaining it at length, "as too Icarian and presumptuous" a task for him to undertake. Let us see if we can glean his ideas from his writings. I call attention, in the first place, to the following clause, in his letter to Richards: "If, upon the bare supposal of a poor creature's being represented by a spectre, too great a progress be made by the authority, in ruining a poor neighbour so represented, it may be that a door may be thereby opened for the Devils to obtain from the Courts, in the invisible world, a license to proceed unto most hideous desolations upon the repute and repose of such as have been kept from the great transgression." "Too great a progress" conveys the suggestion that, upon the introduction of spectral evidence, there should be a delay in the proceedings of the Court, for some intermediate steps to be taken, before going on with the trial. We gather other intimations, to this effect, from other passages, as follows: "Now, in my visiting of the miserable, I was always of this opinion, that we were ignorant of what power the Devils might have, to do their mischiefs in the shapes of some that had never been explicitly engaged in diabolical confederacies, and that therefore, though many witchcrafts had been fairly detected on enquiries provoked and begun by spectral exhibitions, yet we could not easily be too jealous of the snares laid for us in the device of Satan. The world knows how many pages I have composed and published, and particular gentlemen in the Government know how many letters I have written, to prevent the excessive credit of spectral accusations; wherefore I have still charged the afflicted that they should cry out of nobody for afflicting them; but that, if this might be any advantage, they might privately tell their minds to some one person of discretion enough to make no ill use of their communications; accordingly there has been this effect of it, that the name of no one good person in the world ever came under any blemish by means of an afflicted person that fell under my particular cognizance; yea, no one man, woman, or child ever came into any trouble, for the sake of any that were afflicted, after I had once begun to look after them. How often have I had this thrown into my dish, 'that many years ago I had an opportunity to have brought forth such people as have, in the late storm of witchcraft, been complained of, but that I smothered it all'; and after that storm was raised at Salem, I did myself offer to provide meat, drink, and lodging for no less than six of the afflicted, that so an experiment might be made, whether prayer, with fasting, upon the removal of the distressed, might not put a period to the trouble then rising, without giving the civil authority the trouble of prosecuting those things, which nothing but a conscientious regard unto the cries of miserable families could have overcome the reluctance of the honorable Judges to meddle with. In short, I do humbly but freely affirm it, there is not a man living in this world who has been more desirous, than the poor man I, to shelter my neighbors from the inconveniences of spectral outcries; yea, I am very jealous I have done so much that way, as to sin in what I have done; such have been the cowardice and fearfulness where unto my regard to the dissatisfaction of other people has precipitated me. I know a man in the world, who has thought he has been able to convict some such witches as ought to die; but his respect unto the public peace has caused him rather to try whether he could not renew them by repentance."--_Calef_, 11. The careful reader will notice that "six of the afflicted," at Salem Village, would have included nearly the whole circle of the accusing girls there. If he had been allowed to take them into his exclusive keeping, he would have had the whole thing in his own hands. In his account of "the afflictions of Margaret Rule," printed by Calef, in his book, and from which the foregoing extracts have been made speaking of the "eight cursed spectres" with which she was assaulted, in the fall of 1693, Mather says: "She was very careful of my reiterated charges, _to forbear blazing their names_, lest any good person should come to suffer any blast of reputation, through the cunning malice of the great accuser; nevertheless, having since privately named them to myself, I will venture to say this of them, that they are a sort of wretches who, for these many years, have gone under as violent presumptions of witchcraft as, perhaps, any creatures yet living upon earth; although I am far from thinking that the visions of this young woman were evidence enough to prove them so."--_Calef_, 4. The following is from his _Wonders of the Invisible World_, 12: "If once a witch do ingeniously confess among us, no more spectres do, in their shapes, after this, trouble the vicinage; if any guilty creatures will accordingly, to so good purpose, confess their crime to any Minister of God, and get out of the snare of the Devil, as no Minister will discover such a conscientious confession, so, I believe, none in the authority will press him to discover it, but rejoice in a soul saved from death." In his _Life of Phips_, he says: "In fine, the country was in a dreadful ferment, and wise men foresaw a long train of dismal and bloody consequences. Hereupon they first advised, that the _afflicted_ might be kept asunder, in the closest privacy; and one particular person (whom I have cause to know), in pursuance of this advice, offered himself singly to provide accommodations for any six of them, that so the success of more than ordinary prayer, with fasting, might, with patience, be experienced, before any other courses were taken."--_Magnalia_, Book II., p. 62. Hutchinson gives an extract from a letter, written by John Allyn, Secretary of Connecticut, dated, "HARTFORD, March 18, 1693," to Increase Mather, as follows: "As to what you mention, concerning that poor creature in your town that is afflicted, and mentioned my name to yourself and son, I return you hearty thanks for your intimation about it, and for your charity therein mentioned; and I have great cause to bless God, who, of his mercy hitherto, hath not left me to fall into such an horrid evil."--_History_, ii., 61, note. Further, it was on account of some particular plan, in reference to the management of this description of evidence, I am inclined to think, that he felt the importance of being present at the trials. For this reason, he laments the illness that prevented his accompanying Richards to the Court, at its opening, on the second of June, to "assist the noble service," as he says, "with the utmost of my little skill and care." This language shows conclusively, by the way, the great influence he had, at that time, in directing the Government, particularly the Court. He would not have addressed one of the Judges, in such terms, had he not felt that his "skill and care" would be recognized and permitted to take effect. We may well lament, with him, that he could not have been present at the first trial. It would not, then, have been left to conjecture and scrutiny, to determine what his plan was; and an open attempt, to bring the Court to adopt it, might have given another turn to affairs. In his Diary, on the twenty-ninth of April, is the following: "This day I obtained help of God, that he would make use of me, as of a John, to be a herald of the Lord's Kingdom, now approaching." "My prayers did especially insist upon the horrible enchantments and possessions, broke forth in Salem Village, things of a most prodigious aspect, a good issue to those things, and my own direction and protection thereabouts, I did especially petition for." The date of this entry is important. On the eleventh, nineteenth, and twenty second of April, impressive scenes had been exhibited at Salem Village. Some of the most conspicuous cases of the preliminary examinations of persons arrested had occurred. The necessary steps were then being taken to follow up those examinations with a procedure that would excite the country to the highest pitch. The arrangements, kept concealed at Salem, and unsuspected by the public at large, were made and perfected in Boston. On the day after the date of the foregoing memorandum, a Magistrate in that place issued the proper order for the arrest of the Rev. George Burroughs; and officers were started express to Maine for that purpose. This was "the most prodigious aspect of affairs" at the time. All the circumstances must have been known by Mather. Hence his earnest solicitude that proceedings should be conducted under his own "direction and protection." The use of these terms, looks as if Mather contemplated the preliminary examinations as to take place under his direction and management, and will be borne in mind, when we come to consider the question of his having been, more or less, present at them. Disposed to take the most favorable and charitable view of such passages as have now been presented, I would gather from them that his mind may have recurred to his original and favorite idea, that prayer and fasting were the proper weapons to wield against witchcraft; but if they failed, then recourse was to be had to the terrors of the law. He desired to have the afflicted and the accused placed under the treatment of some one person, of discretion enough to make no ill use of their communications, to whom "they might privately tell their minds," and who, without "noise, company and openness," could keep, under his own control, the dread secrets of the former and exorcise the latter. He was willing, and desirous, of occupying this position himself, and of taking its responsibility. To signify this, he offered to provide "meat, drink, and lodging" for six of the afflicted children; to keep them "asunder in the closest privacy;" to be the recipient of their visions; and then to look after the accused, for the purpose of inducing them to confess and break loose from their league with Satan; to be exempt, except when he thought proper to do it, from giving testimony in Court, against parties accused; and to communicate with persons, thus secretly complained of, as he and his father afterwards did with the Secretary of Connecticut, and taking, as in that case, if he saw fit, a bare denial as sufficient for "sheltering" them, altogether, by keeping the accusation a profound secret in his own breast, as he acknowledges he had done to a considerable extent--at once claiming and confessing that he had "done so much that way, as to sin in what he had done." In language that indicates a correspondence and familiarity of intercourse with persons, acting on the spot, at Salem Village, such as authorized him to speak for them, he gives us to understand that they concurred with him in his proposed method of treating the cases: "There are very worthy men, who, having, been called by God, when and where this witchcraft first appeared upon the stage, to encounter it, are earnestly desirous to have it sifted unto the bottom of it." "Persons, thus disposed, have been men eminent for wisdom and virtue." "They would gladly contrive and receive an expedient, how the shedding of blood might be spared, by the recovery of witches not beyond the reach of pardon. And, after all, they invite all good men, in terms to this purpose." "Being amazed at the number and quality of those accused, of late, we do not know but Satan by his wiles may have enwrapt some innocent persons; and therefore should earnestly and humbly desire the most critical inquiry, upon the place, to find out the fallacy."--_Wonders_, 11. Indeed, Parris and his coadjutors, at Salem Village, to whom these passages refer, had, without authority, been, all along, exercising the functions Mather desired to have bestowed upon him, by authority. They had kept a controlling communication with the "afflicted children;" determined who were to be cried out publicly against, and when; rebuked and repressed the calling out, by name, of the Rev. Samuel Willard and many other persons, of both sexes, of "quality," in Boston; and arranged and managed matters, generally. The conjecture I have ventured to make, as to Mather's plan of procedure, explains, as the reader will perceive, by turning back to the Minister's _Advice_, [_Pages 21, 22, ante_] much of the phraseology of that curious document. "Very critical and exquisite caution," in the _third_ Section; "that all proceedings thereabout be managed with an exceeding tenderness towards those that may be complained of," in the _fourth_; "we could wish that there may be admitted as little as possible of such noise, company and openness, as may too hastily expose them that are examined," in the _fifth_; and the entire _seventh_ Section, expressly authorize the suppression, disregard, and _disbelief_, of _some_ of the Devil's accusations, on the grounds of expediency and public policy. Mather's necessary absence from the Court, at its first Session, prevented his "skill and care" being availed of, or any attempt being made to bring forward his plan. The proceedings, having thus commenced in an ordinary way, were continued at the several adjournments of the Court; and his experiment was never made. The fallacy of his ideas and the impracticability of his scheme must, indeed, have become evident, at the first moment it was brought under consideration. Inexperienced and blinded, as they were, by the delusions of the time and the excitements of the scene, and disposed, as they must have been, by all considerations, to comply with his wishes, the Judges had sense enough left to see that it would never do to take the course he desired. The trials could not, in that event, have gone on at all. The very first step would have been to abrogate their own functions as a Court; pass the accusers and accused over to his hands; and adjourn to wait his call. If the spectre evidence had been excluded from the "noise, confusion and openness" of the public Court-room, there would have been nothing left to go upon. If it had been admitted, under any conditions or limitations, merely to disclose matter of "presumption," a fatal difficulty would meet the first step of the enquiry. To the question, "Who hurts you?" no answer could be allowed to be given; and the "_Minister_," to whom the witness had confidentially given the names of persons whose spectres had tormented her, sitting, perhaps, in the Court-room at the time, would have to countenance the suppression of the evidence, and not be liable to be called to the stand to divulge his knowledge. The attempt to leave the accusers and the accused to be treated by the Minister selected for the purpose, in secure privacy, would have dissolved the Court before it had begun; and if this was what Mather meant when, afterwards, at any time, he endeavored to throw off the responsibility of the proceedings, by intimating that his proffered suggestions and services were disregarded, his complaint was most unreasonable. The truth is, the proposal was wholly inadmissible, and could not have been carried into effect. Besides, it would have overthrown the whole system of organized society, and given to whomsoever the management of the cases had thus, for the time, been relinquished, a power too fearful to be thought of, as lodged in one man, or in any private person. If he, or any other person, had been allowed by the Court to assume such an office, and had been known to hold, in secret custody, the accusing parties, receiving their confidential communications, to act upon them as he saw fit--sheltering some from prosecution and returning others to be proceeded against by the Court, which would be equivalent to a conviction and execution--it would have inaugurated a reign of terror, such as had not even then been approached, and which no community could bear. Every man and woman would have felt in the extremest peril, hanging upon the will of an irresponsible arbiter of life and death. Parris and his associates, acting without authority and in a limited sphere, had tried this experiment; had spread abroad, terror, havoc, and ruin; and incensed the surrounding region with a madness it took generations to allay. To have thought, for a moment, that it was desirable to be invested with such a power, "by the authority," shows how ignorant Cotton Mather was of human nature. However innocent, upright, or benevolent might be its exercise, he would have been assailed by animosities of the deepest, and approaches of the basest, kind. A hatred and a sycophancy, such as no Priest, Pope, or despot before, had encountered, would have been brought against him. He would have been assailed by the temptation, and aspersed by the imputation, of "Hush money," from all quarters; and, ultimately, the whole country would have risen against what would have been regarded as a universal levy of "Black Mail." Whoever, at any time, in any country, should undertake such an office as this, would be, in the end, the victim of the outraged sensibilities and passions of humanity. How long could it be endured, any where, if all men were liable to receive, from one authorized and enabled to determine their fate, such a missive as the Mathers addressed to the Secretary of Connecticut, and, at the best, to be beholden, as he felt himself to be, to the "charity" that might prevent their being exposed and prosecuted to the ruin of their reputation, if not to an ignominious death? Calef, alluding to Mather's pretensions to having been actuated by "exceeding tenderness towards persons complained of," expresses the sentiments all would feel, in such a condition of dependence upon the "charity" of one, armed with such fatal power over them: "These are some of the destructive notions of this age; and however the asserters of them seem sometimes to value themselves much upon sheltering their neighbors from spectral accusations, they may deserve as much thanks as that Tyrant, that having industriously obtained an unintelligible charge against his subjects, in matters wherein it was impossible they should be guilty, having thereby their lives in his power, yet suffers them of his mere grace to live, and will be called gracious Lord!"--_Preface._ The mere suspicion that some persons were behind the scene, exercising this power of pointing out some for prosecution and sheltering some from trial or arrest, produced, as Phips says, "a strange ferment of dissatisfaction," threatening to kindle "an inextinguishable flame." Brattle complained of it bitterly: "This occasions much discourse and many hot words, and is a very great scandal and stumbling block to many good people; certainly distributive justice should have its course, without respect to persons; and, although the said Mrs. Thatcher be mother-in-law to Mr. Curwin, who is one of the Justices and Judges, yet, if justice and conscience do oblige them to apprehend others on account of the afflicted their complaints, I cannot see how, without injustice and violence to conscience, Mrs. Thatcher can escape, when it is well known how much she is, and has been, complained of."--Letter dated October 8th, 1692, in the _Massachusetts Historical Society's Collections_, I., v., 69. Hezekial Usher, an eminent citizen of Boston, was arrested by Joseph Lynde, one of the Council, but suffered to remain, "for above a fortnight," in a private house, and afterwards to leave the Province. Brattle "cannot but admire" at this, and says: "Methinks that same justice, that actually imprisoned others, and refused bail for them, on any terms, should not be satisfied without actually imprisoning Mr. U., and refusing bail for him, when his case is known to be the very same with the case of those others." Brattle was a friend of Usher, and believed him innocent, yet was indignant that such barefaced partiality should be shown in judicial proceedings. The establishment of a regular systematized plan, committed to any individual, for sheltering some, while others would be handed back for punishment, would have been unendurable. As it was, Mather exposed himself to much odium, because it was understood that he was practising, on his own responsibility and privately, upon the plan he wished the Judges to adopt, as a principle and method of procedure, in all the trials. He says: "It may be, no man living ever had more people, under preternatural and astonishing circumstances, cast by the providence of God into his more particular care than I have had." Of course, those persons would be most obnoxious to ill-feeling in the community, who were known, as he says of himself, in the foregoing sentence, to have most intimacy with, and influence over, the accusers. For this reason, Cotton Mather was the special object of resentment. No wonder that he sometimes bewails, and sometimes berates, the storm of angry passions raging around. A very bitter feeling pervaded the country, grounded on the conviction that there was "a respect to persons," and a connivance, in behalf of some, by those managing the affair. The public was shocked by having such persons as the Rev. Samuel Willard, Mrs. Hale of Beverly, and the Lady of the Governor, cried out upon by the "afflicted children;" and the commotion was heightened by a cross-current of indignant enquiries: "Why, as these persons are accused, are they not arrested and imprisoned?" Mather alludes, in frequent passages, to this angry state of feeling, as the following: "It is by our quarrels that we spoil our prayers; and if our humble, zealous, and united prayers are once hindered! Alas, the Philistines of Hell have cut our locks for us; they will then blind us, mock us, ruin us. In truth, I cannot altogether blame it, if people are a little transported, when they conceive all the secular interests of themselves and their families at stake, and yet, at the sight of these heart-burnings, I cannot forbear the exclamation of the sweet-spirited Austin, in his pacificatory epistle to Jerom, on the contest with Ruffin, '_O misera et miseranda conditio!_'"--_Wonders_, 11. There was another evil to which he exposed himself by seeking to have such frequent, private, and confidential intercourse with the afflicted accusers and confessing witches, who professed to have so often seen, associated with, and suffered from, spectral images of the Devil's confederates; which spectral shapes, as was believed, were, after all, the Devil himself. He came under the imputation of what, in Scripture, is pronounced one of the darkest of crimes. The same charge was made to tell against Mr. Parris, helping effectually to remove him from the ministry at Salem Village. _Leviticus_, xx., 6. "And the soul that turneth after such as have familiar spirits, and after wizards, to go a whoring after them, I will set my face against that soul, and will cut him off from among his people." _1 Chronicles_, x., 13. "So Saul died for his transgression, which he committed against the Lord, even against the word of the Lord, which he kept not; and also, for asking counsel of one that had a familiar spirit, to inquire of it, and inquired not of the Lord, therefore he slew him." For having so much to do with persons professing to suffer from, and from others confessing to have committed, the sin of witchcraft, Mather became the object of a scathing rebuke in the letter of Brattle, in a passage I shall quote, in another connection. Such, then, so far as I can gather, was Cotton Mather's plan for the management of witchcraft investigations; such its impracticability; and such the dangerous and injurious consequences to himself, of attempting to put it into practice. He never fully divulged it; but, in the _Advice_ of the Ministers and various other writings, endeavored to pave the way for it. All the expressions, in that document and elsewhere, which have deceived the Reviewer and others into the notion that he was opposed to the admission of spectre evidence, at the trials, were used as arguments to persuade "authority" not to receive that species of evidence, in open Court, but to refer it to him, in the first instance, to be managed by him with exquisite caution and discretion, and, thereby avoid inconveniences and promote good results; and when he could not subdue the difficulties of the case, to deliver back the obdurate and unrepentant, to the Court, to be proceeded against in the ordinary course of law. With this view, he has much to say that indicates a tender regard to the prisoners. It is true that the scheme, if adopted, would have given him absolute power over the community, and, for this reason, may have had attraction. But, I doubt not, that he cherished it from benevolent feelings also. He thought that he might, in that way, do great good. But it could not be carried into effect. It was seen, at once, by all men, who had any sense left, to be utterly impracticable, and had to be abandoned. That being settled and disposed of, he went into the prosecutions without misgivings, earnestly and vehemently sustaining the Court, in all things, spectre evidence included, as remains to be shown. VIII. COTTON MATHER AND SPECTRAL EVIDENCE. I shall continue to draw, at some length, upon Mather's writings, to which I ask the careful attention of the reader. The subject to which they mostly relate, is of much interest, presenting views of a class of topics, holding, for a long period, a mighty sway over the human mind. In his _Life of Phips_, written in 1697, and constituting the concluding part of the Second Book of the _Magnalia_, he gives a general account of what had transpired, in the preliminary examinations at Salem, before the arrival of Sir William, at Boston. In it, he spreads out, with considerable fullness, what had been brought before the Magistrates, consisting mainly of spectral testimony; and narrates the appearances and doings of spectres assaulting the "afflicted children," not as mere matters alleged, but as facts. It is true that he appears as a narrator; yet, in the manner and tenor of his statement, he cannot but be considered as endorsing the spectral evidence. Speaking of the examining Magistrates, and saying that it is "now," that is, in 1697, "generally thought they went out of the way," he expresses himself as follows: "The afflicted people vehemently accused several persons, in several places, that the _spectres_ which afflicted them, did exactly resemble _them_; until the importunity of the accusations did provoke the Magistrates to examine them. When many of the accused came upon their examination, it was found, that the demons, then a thousand ways abusing of the poor afflicted people, had with a marvellous exactness represented them; yea, it was found that many of the accused, but casting their eye upon the afflicted, the afflicted, though their faces were never so much another way, would fall down and lie in a sort of a swoon, wherein they would continue, whatever hands were laid upon them, until the hands of the accused came to touch them, and then they would revive immediately: and it was found, that various kinds of natural actions, done by many of the accused in or to their own bodies, as leaning, bending, turning awry, or squeezing their hands, or the like, were presently attended with the like things preternaturally done upon the bodies of the afflicted, though they were so far asunder, that the afflicted could not at all observe the accused."--_Magnalia_, Book II., p. 61. Indeed, throughout his account of the appearances and occurrences, at the examinations before the committing Magistrates, it must be allowed that he exposed a decided bias, in his own mind, to the belief and reception of the spectral evidence. He commences that account in these words: "Some scores of people, first about Salem, the centre and first-born of all the towns in the Colony, and afterwards in several other places, were arrested with many preternatural vexations upon their bodies, and a variety of cruel torments, which were evidently inflicted from the demons of the invisible world. The people that were infected and infested with such Demons, in a few days time, arrived at such a refining alteration upon their eyes, that they could see their tormentors; they saw a Devil of a little stature and of a tawny color, attended still with spectres that appeared in more human circumstances."--_Page 60._ And he concludes it as follows: "Flashy people may burlesque these things, but when hundreds of the most sober people in a country, where they have as much mother-wit certainly as the rest of mankind, know them to be _true_, nothing but the absurd and froward spirit of Sadduceeism can question them. I have not yet mentioned so much as one thing, that will not be justified, if it be required, by the oaths of more considerate persons, than any that can ridicule these odd phenomena."--_Page 61._ When he comes to the conclusion of the affair, and mentions the general pardon of the convicted and accused, he says: "there fell out several strange things that caused the spirit of the country to run as vehemently upon the acquitting of all the accused, as it had, by mistake, ran at first upon the condemning of them." "In fine, the last Courts that sate upon this thorny business, finding that it was impossible to penetrate into the whole meaning of the things that had happened, and that so many unsearchable cheats were interwoven into the conclusion of a mysterious business, which perhaps had not crept thereinto at the beginning of it, they cleared the accused as fast as they tried them." But, even then, Mather could not wholly disengage his mind from the "mistake." "More than twice twenty," he says, in connection with the fact that the confessions had been receded from, "had made such voluntary, and harmonious, and uncontrollable confessions, that if they were all sham, there was therein the greatest violation, made by the efficacy of the invisible world, upon the rules of understanding human affairs, that was ever seen since God made man upon the earth." In this same work he presents, in condensed shape, the views of the advocates and of the opponents of spectral testimony, without striking the balance between them or avowedly taking sides with either, although it may fairly be observed that the weight he puts into the scale of the former is quite preponderating. From incidental expressions, too, it might be inferred that he was to be classed with the former, as he ascribes to them some "philosophical schemes," in explanation of the phenomena of witchcraft, that look like his notion of the "Plastic spirit of the world." Another incidental remark seems to point to Increase Mather, as to be classed with the latter, as follows: "Though against some of them that were tried, there came in so much other evidence of their diabolical compacts, that some of the most judicious, and yet vehement, opposers of the notions then in vogue, publicly declared, _Had they themselves been on the Bench, they could not have acquitted them_; nevertheless, divers were condemned, against whom the chief evidence was founded in the spectral exhibitions." Increase Mather, in the Postscript to his _Cases of Conscience_, says: "I am glad that there is published to the World (by my Son) a _Breviate of the Tryals_ of some who were lately executed, whereby I hope the thinking part of Mankind will be satisfied, that there was more than that which is called _Spectre Evidence_ for the Conviction of the Persons condemned. I was not my self present at any of the Tryals, excepting one, _viz._ that of _George Burroughs_; had I been one of his Judges, I could not have acquitted him: For several Persons did upon Oath testifie, that they saw him do such things as no Man that has not a Devil to be his Familiar could perform." It is observable that Increase Mather does not express or intimate, in this passage, any objection to the introduction of spectral evidence. When we come to consider Cotton Mather's _Breviate_ of the trial of George Burroughs, we shall see how slight and inadequate was what Increase Mather could have heard, _at the Trial_, to prove that Burroughs had exhibited strength which the Devil only could have supplied. The most trivial and impertinent matter was all that was needed, to be added to spectral testimony, to give it fatal effect. The value, by the way, of Increase Mather's averment, that "more than that which is called Spectre Evidence" was adduced against the persons convicted, is somewhat impaired by the admission of Cotton Mather, just before quoted, that "divers were condemned," against whom it was the "chief evidence." In stating the objection, by some, to the admission of spectral evidence, on the ground that the Devil might assume the shape of an innocent person, and if that person was held answerable for the actions of that spectral appearance, it would be in the power of the Devil to convict and destroy any number of innocent and righteous people, and thereby "subvert Government and disband and ruin human society," Cotton Mather gets over the difficulty thus: "And yet God may sometimes suffer such things to evene, that we may know, thereby, how much we are beholden to him, for that restraint which he lays upon the infernal spirits, who would else reduce a world into a chaos." This is a striking instance of the way in which words may be made, not only to cover, but to transform, ideas. A reverent form of language conceals an irreverent conception. The thought is too shocking for plain utterance; but, dressed in the garb of ingenious phraseology, it assumes an aspect that enables it to pass as a devout acknowledgment of a divine mystery. The real meaning, absurd as it is dreadful, to state or think, is that the Heavenly Father sometimes may, not merely permit, but will, the lies of the Devil to mislead tribunals of justice to the shedding of the blood of the righteous, that he may, thereby show how we are beholden to Him, that a like outrage and destruction does not happen to us all. He allows the Devil, by false testimony, to bring about the perpetration of the most horrible wrong. It is a part of the "Rectoral Righteousness of God," that it should be so. What if the Courts do admit the testimony of the Devil in the appearance of a spectre, and, on its strength, consign to death the innocent? It is the will of God, that it should be so. Let that will be done. But however the sentiment deserves to be characterized, it removes the only ground upon which, in that day, spectral evidence was objected to--namely, that it might endanger the innocent. If such was the will of God, the objectors were silenced. In concluding the examination of the question whether Cotton Mather denounced, or countenanced, the admission of spectral testimony--for that is the issue before us--I feel confident that it has been made apparent, that it was not in reference to the _admission_ of such testimony, that he objected to the "principles that some of the Judges had espoused," but to the method in which it should be _handled_ and _managed_. I deny, utterly, that it can be shown that he opposed its _admission_. In none of his public writings did he ever pretend to this. The utmost upon which he ventured, driven to the defensive on this very point, as he was during all the rest of his days, was to say that he was opposed to its "excessive use." Once, indeed, in his private Diary, under that self-delusion which often led him to be blind to the import of his language, contradicting, in one part, what he had said in another part of the same sentence, evidently, as I believe, without any conscious and intentional violation of truth, he makes this statement: "For my own part, I was always afraid of proceeding to convict and condemn any person, as a confederate with afflicting Demons, upon so feeble an evidence as a spectral representation. Accordingly, I ever protested against it, both publicly and privately; and, in my letter to the Judges, I particularly besought them that they would, by no means, admit it; and when a considerable assembly of Ministers gave in their advice about that matter, I not only concurred with them, but it was I who drew it up." This shows how he indulged himself in forms of expression that misled him. His letter to "the Judges" means, I suppose, that written to Richards; and he had so accustomed his mind to the attempt to make the _Advice_ of the Ministers bear this construction, as to deceive himself. That document does not say a word, much less, protest, against the "admission" of that evidence: it was not designed, and was not understood by any, at the time, to have that bearing, but only to urge suggestions of caution, in its use and management. Charity to him requires us to receive his declaration in the Diary as subject to the modifications he himself connects with it, and to mean no more than we find expressed in the letter to Richards and in the _Advice_. But, if he really had deluded himself into the idea that he had protested against the _admission_ of spectral evidence, he has not succeeded, probably, in deluding any other persons than his son Samuel, who repeated the language of the Diary, and our Reviewer. The question, I finally repeat, is as to the admission of that species of evidence, _at all_, in any stage, in any form, to any extent. Cotton Mather never, in any public writing, "denounced the admission" of it, never advised its absolute exclusion; but, on the contrary recognised it as a ground of "presumption." Increase Mather stated that the "Devil's accusations," which he considered spectral evidence really to be, "may be so far regarded as to cause an enquiry into the truth of things." These are the facts of history, and not to be moved from their foundation in the public record of that day. There is no reason to doubt that all the Ministers, in the early stages of the delusion, concurred in these views. All partook of the "awe," mentioned by Mather, which filled the minds of Juries, Judges, and the people, whenever this kind of testimony was introduced. No matter how nor when, whether as "presumption" to build other evidence upon or as a cause for further "enquiry," nothing could stand against it. Character, reason, common sense, were swept away. So long as it was suffered to come in, any how, or to be credited at all, the horrid fanaticism and its horrible consequences continued. When it was wholly excluded, the reign of terror and of death ceased. IX. COTTON MATHER AND THE PRELIMINARY EXAMINATIONS. JOHN PROCTOR. GEORGE BURROUGHS. The spectral evidence was admitted; and the examinations and trials went on. The question now arises, what was Cotton Mather's attitude towards them? The scrutiny as to the meaning of his words is exhausted; and now we are to interpret his actions. They speak louder and clearer than words. Let us, in the first place, make the proper distinction between the Examinations, on the arrest of the prisoners and leading to their commitment, and the Trials. The first Warrants were issued on the twenty-ninth of February, 1692; and the parties arrested were brought before the Magistrates the next day. Arrests and Examinations occurred, at short intervals, during three months, when the first trial was had; and they were continued, from time to time, long after, while the Special Court was in operation. They were, in some respects, more important than the Trials. Almost all the evidence, finally adduced before the Jury, was taken by the examining Magistrates; and being mostly in the form of carefully written depositions, it was simply reproduced, and sworn to, before the Court. Further, as no Counsel was allowed the Prisoners, the Trials were quite summary affairs. Hutchinson says, no difficulty was experienced; and the results were quickly reached, in every case but that of Rebecca Nurse. These two stages in the proceedings became confounded in the public apprehension, and have been borne down by tradition, indiscriminately, under the name of Trials. It was the succession, at brief intervals, through a long period, of these Examinations, that wrought the great excitement through the country, which met Phips on his arrival; and which is so graphically described by Cotton Mather, as a "dreadful ferment." He says he was not present at any of the Trials. Was he present at any of the Examinations? The considerations that belong to the solution of this question are the following: When the special interest he must have taken in them is brought to mind, from the turn of his prevalent thoughts and speculations, exhibited in all his writings, and from the propensity he ever manifested to put himself in a position to observe and study such things, it may be supposed he would not have foregone opportunities like those presented in the scenes before the Magistrates. While all other people, Ministers especially, were flocking to them, it is difficult to conclude that he held back. That he attended some of them is, perhaps, to be inferred from the distinctive character of his language that he never attended a _Trial_. The description given, in his _Life of Phips_, of what was exhibited and declared by the "afflicted children," at the Examinations, exhibits a minuteness and vividness, seeming to have come from an eye-witness; but there is not a particular word or syllable, I think, in the account, from which an inference, either way, can be drawn whether, or not, he was present at them, personally. This is observable, I repeat, inasmuch as he was careful to say that he was _not_ present at the _Trials_. The Examinations, being of a character to arrest universal attention, and from the extraordinary nature of their incidents, as viewed by that generation, having attractions, all but irresistible, it is not surprising that, as incidentally appears, Magistrates and Ministers came to them, from all quarters. No local occurrences, in the history of this country, ever awakened such a deep, awe-inspiring, and amazed interest. It can hardly be doubted that he was attracted to them. Can any other inference be drawn from the passage already quoted, from his Diary, that he felt called, "as a herald of the Lord's Kingdom, now approaching," to give personal attendance, in "the horrible enchantments and possessions broke forth at Salem Village?" There was a large concourse of Magistrates and Ministers, particularly, on the twenty-fourth of March, when Deodat Lawson preached his famous Sermon, after the Examination of Rebecca Nurse; on the eleventh of April, when the Governor and Council themselves conducted the Examination of John Proctor and others; and, on the ninth of May, when Stoughton, from Dorchester, and Sewall, from Boston, sat with the local Magistrates, and the Rev. George Burroughs was brought before them. It is strange, indeed, if Mather was not present, especially on the last occasion; and it may appear, as we advance, that it is almost due to his reputation to suppose that he was there, and thus became qualified and authorized to pass the judgment he afterwards did. Local tradition, of less value, in some respects, for reasons given in my book, in reference to this affair than most others, but still of much weight, has identified Cotton Mather with these scenes. The family, of which John Proctor was the head, has continued to this day in the occupancy of his lands. Always respectable in their social position, they have perpetuated his marked traits of intellect and character. They have been strong men, as the phrase is, in their day, of each generation; and have constantly cherished in honor the memory of their noble progenitor, who bravely breasted, in defence of his wife, the fierce fanaticism of his age, and fell a victim to its fury and his own manly fidelity and integrity. They have preserved, as much as any family, a knowledge of the great tragedy; and it has been a tradition among them that Cotton Mather took an active part in the prosecution of Proctor. The representative of the family, in our day, a man of vigorous faculties, of liberal education, academical and legal, and much interested in antiquarian and genealogical enquiries, John W. Proctor, presided at the Centennial Celebration, in Danvers, on the fifteenth of June, 1852; and in his Address, expressed, no doubt, a transmitted sentiment--although, as has generally been done, confounding the Examinations with the Trials--in stating that Cotton Mather rendered himself conspicuous in the proceedings against his ancestor. Cotton Mather was the leading champion of the Judges. In his Diary, he says: "I saw, in most of the Judges, a most charming instance of prudence and patience; and I know the exemplary prayer and anguish of soul, wherewith they had sought the direction of heaven, above most other people; whom I generally saw enchanted into a raging, railing, scandalous and unreasonable disposition, as the distress increased upon us. For this cause, _though I could not allow the principles that some of the Judges had espoused_, yet I could not but speak honorably of their persons, on all occasions; and my compassion upon the sight of their difficulties, raised by _my journeys to Salem_, the chief seat of those diabolical vexations, caused me yet more to do so." How, as he had not been present at any of the Trials, could he have given this commendation of the bearing of the Judges, based, as he says, upon what he had witnessed in visits to Salem? I can think of but one way in which his statements can be reconciled. Five of the eight Judges (Saltonstall's seat being vacant) Stoughton, Sewall, Gedney, Corwin and Hathorne, severally, at different times, sat as Magistrates, at the Examinations, which occasions were accompanied with vexations and perplexities, calling for prudence and patience, much more than the Trials. It is due, therefore, to Mather to suppose that he had frequented the Examinations, and, thus acquired a right to speak of the deportment of the Judges, "upon the _sight_ of their difficulties." Much of the evidence given by the "afflicted children," at the Examinations, can hardly be accounted for except as drawn from ideas suggested by Mather, on the spot, so as to reach their ears. In the testimony of Susannah Sheldon, against John Willard, on the ninth of May, is the following singular statement: "There appeared to me a Shining White man." She represents it as a good and friendly angel, or spirit, accompanied by another "angel from Heaven," protecting her against the spectre of John Willard. Prefixed to the London Edition of the _Cases of Conscience_, printed in 1862, is a narrative, by Deodat Lawson, of some remarkable things he saw and heard, connected with the witchcraft transactions at Salem Village. In it, is the following statement: "The first of April, Mercy Lewis saw in her fit, a white man, and was with him in a glorious place, which had no candles nor sun, yet was full of light and brightness; where was a great multitude in white glittering robes; and they sung the Song in _Revelation_, v., 9, and the one hundred and tenth Psalm, and the one hundred and forty-ninth Psalm; and said with herself, 'How long shall I stay here?' 'Let me be along with you!' She was loth to leave the place; and grieved that she could tarry no longer. This White man hath appeared several times to some of them, and given them notice how long it should be before they had another fit, which was, some times, a day, or day and half, or more or less. It hath fallen out accordingly." In the case of Margaret Rule, in Boston, the year after the Salem Delusion, of which it is not to be questioned that Mather had the management, this same "_White_" Spirit is made to figure; and also, in another instance. Mather alludes to the "glorious and signal deliverance of that poor damsel," Mercy Short, six months before. "Indeed," says he, "Margaret's case was, in several points, less remarkable than Mercy's; and in some other things the entertainment did a little vary." Margaret, Mercy, and the "afflicted children" at Salem Village, all had their "White Angel," as thus stated by Mather: "Not only in the Swedish, but also in the Salem Witchcraft, the enchanted people have talked much of a White Spirit, from whence they received marvellous assistances in their miseries. What lately befell Mercy Short, from the communications of such a Spirit, hath been the just wonder of us all; but by such a Spirit was Margaret Rule now also visited. She says that she could never see his face; but that she had a frequent view of his bright, shining and glorious garments; he stood by her bed-side, continually, heartening and comforting her, and counselling her to maintain her faith and hope in God, and never comply with the temptations of her adversaries."--_Calef_, 3, 8. This appearance of the "White and Shining," Spirit, or "White Angel," exercising a good and friendly influence, was entirely out of the line of ordinary spectral manifestations; constituted a speciality in the cases mentioned; and seems to have originated in the same source. Let it, then, be considered that Cotton Mather's favorite precedent, which was urged upon Sir William Phips, and which Mather brought to the notice of Richards, and was so fond of citing in his writings, had a "White Angel." In his account of the "most horrid outrage, committed in Sweedland by Devils, by the help of witches," we find the following: "Some of the children talked much of a White Angel, which did use to forbid them, what the Devil had bid them to do, and assure them that these things would not last long; but that what had been done was permitted for the wickedness of the people. This White Angel would sometimes rescue the children, from going in with the witches."--_Wonders_, 50. Mr. Hale also notices this feature of the Salem Trials--that the witnesses swore to "representations of heavenly beauty, white men." Mather brought the story of this witchcraft "in Sweedland," before the public, in America; he had the book that contained it; and was active in giving it circulation. There can be little doubt that he was the channel through which it found its way to the girls in the hamlet of Salem Village. He was, it is evident, intimate with Parris. How far the latter received his ideas from him, is, _as yet_, unknown. That they were involved in the same responsibility is clear from the fact that Parris fell back upon him for protection, and relied upon him, as his champion, throughout his controversy with his people, occasioned by the witchcraft transactions. When these considerations are duly weighed, in connection with his language in the passage of his Diary, just quoted--"I saw a most charming instance of prudence and patience" in the Judges: "My compassion upon the sight of their difficulties," "raised by my journeys to Salem, the chief seat of those diabolical vexations"--it seems necessary to infer, that his opportunities of _seeing_ all this, on the occasions of his "journeys to Salem," must have been afforded by attending the Examinations, held by the Magistrates who were also Judges; as it is established, by his own averment, that he never saw them on the Bench of the Court, at the Jury-trials. It is, therefore, rendered certain, by his own language and by all the facts belonging to the subject, that the purpose of his "journeys to Salem" was to attend the Examinations. We are, indeed, shut up to this conclusion. The Examinations were going on from the first of March, far into the Summer of 1692. There is no intimation that either of the Mathers uttered a syllable against the course pursued in them, before or after the middle of May, when the Government passed into their almost exclusive possession. All the way through, spectral evidence was admitted, without restraint or a symptom of misgiving, on their part; and, whether present or absent, they could not but have known all that was going on. Cotton Mather's "_journeys to Salem_," must have been frequent. If only made two or three times, he would have said so, as he speaks of them in an apologetic passage and when trying to represent his agency to have been as little as the truth would allow. The Reviewer states that the journeys were made for another purpose. He states it positively and absolutely. "He made visits to Salem, as we shall presently see, for quite another purpose than that which has been alleged." This language surprised me, as it had wholly escaped my researches; and the surprise was accompanied with pleasure, for I supposed there must be some foundation for the declaration. I looked eagerly for the disclosure about to be made, in some document, now, for the first time, to be brought to light, from "original sources," such as he, in a subsequent passage, informs us, Mr. Longfellow has had access to. Great was my disappointment, to find that the Reviewer, notwithstanding his promise to let us know the "other purpose" of Mather's visits to Salem, has not given us a single syllable of _information_ to that effect, but has endeavored to palm off, upon the readers of the _North American Review_, a pure fiction of his own brain, a mere conjecture, as baseless as it is absurd. He says that Mather made his visits to Salem, as the "spiritual comforter" of John Proctor and John Willard! He further says, in support of this statement, "that Proctor and Willard had been confined several months in the Boston Jail, and there, doubtless, made Mr. Mather's acquaintance, as he was an habitual visitor of the prison." This hardly accounts for "journeys to Salem," during _those_ months. Salem was not exactly in Mr. Mather's way from his house in Boston to the Jail in Boston. As only a few days over four months elapsed between Proctor's being put into the Boston Jail and his execution, deducting the "several months" he spent there, but little time remained, after his transfer to the Salem Jail, for Mather's "journeys to Salem," for the purpose of administering spiritual consolation to him. So far as making his "acquaintance," while in Boston Jail is regarded, upon the same ground it might be affirmed that he was the spiritual adviser of the Prisoners generally; for most of those, who suffered, were in Boston Jail as long as Proctor; and he visited them all alike. The Reviewer adduces not a particle of evidence to prove his absolute statement, nor even to countenance the idea; but, as is his custom, he transforms a conjecture into an established fact. On a bare surmise, he builds an argument, and treats the whole, basis and superstructure, as History. To show, more particularly, how he thus _makes History_, I must follow this matter up a little further. Brattle, in his _Account of the Witchcraft in the County of Essex, 1692_, has this paragraph, after stating that the persons executed "went out of the world, not only with as great protestations, but also with as great shows, of innocency, as men could do:" "They protested their innocency as in the presence of the great God, whom forthwith they were to appear before: they wished, and declared their wish, that their blood might be the last innocent blood shed upon that account. With great affection, they entreated Mr. C. M. to pray with them: they prayed that God would discover what witchcrafts were among us: they forgave their accusers: they spake without reflection on Jury and Judges, for bringing them in guilty and condemning them: [they prayed earnestly for pardon for all _other_ sins, and for an interest in the precious blood of our dear Redeemer:] and seemed to be very sincere, upright, and sensible of their circumstances on all accounts; especially Proctor and Willard, whose whole management of themselves, from the Jail to the Gallows, [and whilst at the Gallows,] was very affecting and melting to the hearts of some considerable spectators, whom I could mention to you:--[but they are executed and so I leave them.]"--_Massachusetts Historical Collections_, I., v., 68. The Reviewer cites this paragraph, omitting the clauses I have placed within brackets, _without any indication of the omissions_. The first of the omitted clauses is a dying declaration of the innocence of the sufferers, as to the crime alleged. The second proves that they "managed themselves" after, as well as before, reaching the Gallows, and to their dying moment--seeming to preclude the idea that their exercises of prayer and preparation were directed or guided by any spiritual adviser. The last is an emphatic and natural expression of Brattle's feelings and judgment on the occasion. The Reviewer follows his citation, thus: "Mr. Brattle mentions no other person than Mr. C. M. as the comforter and friend of the sufferers, especially Proctor and Willard." "In the above statement we trace the character of their spiritual counsellor." "We now see the object of Mr. Mather's visits to Salem." "Would these persons have asked Mr. Mather to be their spiritual comforter, if he had been the agent, as has been alleged, of bringing them into their sad condition?" In other forms of language and other connections, he speaks of Mr. Mather's presence, at these executions, as "the performance of a sad duty to Proctor and Willard," and represents Brattle as calling him "the spiritual adviser of the persons condemned." All this he asserts as proved and admitted fact; and the whole rests upon the foregoing _mutilated_ paragraph of Brattle. Let the reader thoroughly examine and consider that paragraph, and then judge of this Reviewer's claim to establish History. The word "affection," was used much at that time to signify _earnest desire_. "They"--that is, the persons then about to die, namely, the Rev. George Burroughs, an humble, laborious, devoted Minister of the Gospel; John Proctor, the owner of valuable farms and head of a large family; John Willard, a young married man of most respectable connections; George Jacobs, an early settler, land-holder, and a grandfather, of great age, with flowing white locks, sustained, as he walked, by two staffs or crutches; and Martha Carrier, the wife of a farmer in Andover, with a family of children, some of them quite young--"entreated Mr. C. M. to pray with them." Why did they have to "entreat" him, if he had come all the way from Boston for that purpose? They all had Ministers near at hand--Carrier had two Ministers, either or both of whom would have been prompt to come, if persons suffering for the imputed crime of witchcraft had been allowed to have the attendance of "spiritual comforters," at their executions. If Mather had prayed with them, Brattle would have said so. His language is equivalent to a statement, that "Mr. C. M." was reluctant, if he did not absolutely refuse to do it; and the only legitimate inferences from the whole passage are, that the sufferers did their own praying,--from Brattle's account of their dying prayers, they did it well--and that without "spiritual comforter," "adviser," or "friend," in the last dread hour, they were left to the "management of themselves." When the paragraph is taken in connection with the relations of Brattle to Mather, not approving of his course in public affairs, but, at the same time, delicately situated, being associated with him in important public interests and leading circles, the conclusion seems probable that he meant, in an indirect mode of expression, to notice the fact that Mather refused to pray with the sufferers on the occasion. In fact, we know that Nicholas Noyes, who was Proctor's Minister, refused to pray with him, unless he would confess. Mather and Noyes were intimately united by personal and professional ties of friendship and communion, and probably would not run counter to each other, at such a time, and in the presence of such a multitude of Ministers and people. It is to be regarded exclusively as illustrating the shocking character of the whole procedure of the witchcraft prosecutions, and not as a personally harsh or cruel thing, that Noyes or Mather was unwilling to pray with persons, at their public executions, who stood convicted of being confederates of the Devil, and who, refusing to confess, retained that character to the last. Ministers, like them, believing that the convicts were malefactors of a far different and deeper dye than ordinary human crime could impart, rebels against God, apostates from Christ, sons of Belial, recruits of the Devil's army, sworn in allegiance to his Kingdom, baptized into his church, beyond the reach of hope and prayer, could hardly be expected to pray _with_ them. To _join_ them in prayer was impossible. To go through the forms of united prayer would have been incongruous with the occasion, and not more inconsistent with the convictions of the Ministers, than repugnant to the conscious innocence and natural sensibilities of the sufferers. Condemned, unconfessing, unrepentant witches might be prayed _for_, or _at_, but not _with_. The superior greatness of mind of Burroughs and his fellow sufferers, the true spirit of Christian forgiveness elevating them above a sense of the errors and wrongs of which they were the victims, are beautifully and gloriously shown in their earnestly wishing and entreating Noyes and Mather to pray with them. They pitied their delusion, and were desirous, in that last hour, to regard them and all others as their brethren, and bow with them before the Father of all. The request they made of Christian Ministers, who, at the moment, regarded them as in league with the Devil, might not be exactly logical; a failure to comply with it is not a just matter of reproach; but the fact that it was repeated with earnestness, "entreated with affection," shows that the last pulsations of their hearts were quickened by a holy and heavenly Love. The Reviewer asks: "Were those five persons executed that day without any spiritual adviser?" There is no evidence, I think, to show that a Minister ever accompanied, in that character, persons convicted of witchcraft, at the place of execution. All that can be gathered from Brattle's account is, that, on the occasion to which he is referring, the sufferers _themselves_ offered public prayers. We know that Martha Corey, at a subsequent execution, pronounced a prayer that made a deep impression on the assembled multitude. Mr. Burroughs's prayer is particularly spoken of. So, also, in England, when the Reverend Mr. Lewis, an Episcopal clergyman, eighty years of age, and who, for fifty years, had been Vicar of Brandeston, in the County of Suffolk, was executed for alleged witchcraft, the venerable man read his own funeral service, according to the forms of his Church, "committing his own body to the ground, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life." This whole story of the spiritual relation between Mather and Proctor is a bare fiction, entirely in conflict with all tradition and all probability, without a shadow of support in any document adduced by the Reviewer; and yet he would have it received as an established fact, and incorporated, as such, in history. Liberties, like this, cannot be allowed. Sewall's Diary, at the date of the nineteenth of August, 1692, has this entry: "This day George Burrough, John Willard, John Proctor, Martha Carrier, and George Jacobs were executed at Salem, a very great number of spectators being present. Mr. Cotton Mather was there, Mr. Sims, Hale, Noyes, Cheever, etc. All of them said they were innocent, Carrier and all. Mr. Mather says they all died by a righteous sentence. Mr. Burrough, by his Speech, Prayer, protestation of his innocence, did much move unthinking persons, which occasioned the speaking hardly concerning his being executed." It is quite remarkable that Cotton Mather should have gone directly home to Boston, after the execution, and made himself noticeable by proclaiming such a harsh sentiment against _all_ the sufferers, if he had just been performing friendly offices to them, as "spiritual adviser, counsellor, and comforter." Clergymen, called to such melancholy and affecting functions, do not usually emerge from them in the frame of mind exhibited in the language ascribed to Mather, by Sewall. It shows, at any rate, that Mather felt sure that Proctor went out of the world, an unrepenting, unconfessing wizard, and, therefore, not a fit subject for a Christian Minister to unite with in prayer. One other remark, by the way. The account Sewall gives of the impression made by Burroughs, on the spectators, now first brought to light, in print, is singularly confirmatory of what Calef says on the subject. My chief purpose, however, in citing this passage from Sewall's Diary, is this. Mather was not present at the Trial of Burroughs. If he was not present at his Examination before the Magistrates, how could he have spoken, as he did, of the righteousness of his sentence? There had been no Report or publication, in any way, of the evidence; and he could only have received a competent knowledge of it from personal presence, on one or the other of those occasions. He could not have been justified in so confident and absolute a judgment, by mere hearsay. If that had been the source of his information, he would have modified his language accordingly. There is one other item to be considered, in treating the question of Mather's connection with the Examinations of the Prisoners, before the Magistrates. When Proctor was awaiting his trial, during the short period, previous to that event, that he was in the Salem Jail, he had addressed a letter to "Mr. Mather, Mr. Allen, Mr. Moody, Mr. Willard and Mr. Baily," all Ministers, begging them to intercede, in behalf of himself and fellow-prisoners, to secure to them better treatment, especially a fairer trial than they could have in Salem, where such a violent excitement had been wrought up against them. From the character of the letter, it is evident that it was addressed to them in the hope and belief that they were accessible, to such an appeal. But one of the Mathers is named. They were associate Ministers of the same Church. Although the father was President of the College at Cambridge, he resided in Boston, and was in the active exercise of his ministry there. The question is, Which of them is meant? In my book, I expressed the opinion that it was Increase, the father. The Reviewer says it was Cotton, the son. It is a fair question; and every person can form a judgment upon it. The other persons named, comprising the rest of the Ministers then connected with the Boston Churches, are severally, more or less, indicated by what has come to us, as not having gone to extremes, in support of the witchcraft prosecutions. Increase Mather was commonly regarded, upon whatever grounds, as not going so far as his son, in that direction. The name, "Mr. Mather," heads the list. From his standing, as presiding over the College and the Clergy, it was proper to give him this position. His age and seniority of settlement, also entitled him to it. Usage, and all general considerations of propriety, require us to assume that by "Mr. Mather," the _elder_ is meant. Cotton Mather, being the youngest of the Boston Ministers, would not be likely to be the first named, in such a list. Besides, he was considered, as he himself complains, as the "doer of all the hard things, that were done, in the prosecution of the witchcraft." Whoever concludes that Increase Mather was the person, in Proctor's mind, will appreciate the fact that Cotton Mather is omitted in the list. It proves that Proctor considered him beyond the reach of all appeals, in behalf of accused persons; and tends to confirm the tradition, in the family, that his course towards Proctor, when under examination, either before the Magistrates or in Court, had indicated a fixed and absolute prejudice or conviction against him. This Letter of Proctor's, printed in my book, [_ii., 310_] utterly disperses the visionary fabric of the Reviewer's fancy, that Cotton Mather was his "spiritual adviser," counselling him in frequent visits to the Salem Jail. It denounces, in unreserved language, "the Magistrates, Ministers, Juries," as under the "delusion of the Devil, which we can term no other, by reason we know, in our own consciences, we are all innocent persons;" and is couched in a bold, outspoken and trenchant style, that would have shocked and incensed Cotton Mather to the highest possible degree. It is absolutely certain, that if Cotton Mather had been Proctor's "friend and counsellor," a more prudent and cautious tone and style would have been given to the whole document. In concluding the considerations that render it probable that Cotton Mather had much to do with the Examinations, it may be said, in general, that he vindicates the course taken at them, in language that seems to identify himself with them, and to prove that he could not have been opposed to the methods used in them. X. COTTON MATHER AND THE WITCHCRAFT TRIALS. THE EXECUTIONS. I now proceed to examine Cotton Mather's connection with the Trials at Salem. It is fully admitted that he did not personally attend any of them. His averment to this effect does not allow the supposition that he could have deceived himself, on such a point. In his letter to Richards, as has been seen, he expressed his great disappointment in not being well enough to accompany him to this first Session of the Special Court; and the tenor of the passage proves that he had fully expected and designed to be present, at the trials, generally. Whether the same bodily indisposition continued to forbid his attendance at its successive adjournments, we cannot obtain information. The first point of connection I can find between him and the trials, is brought to view in a meeting of certain Ministers, after executions had taken place, and while trials were pending. Increase Mather, in his _Cases of Conscience_, has the following: "As for the judgment of the Elders in New England, so far as I can learn, they do generally concur with Mr. Perkins and Mr. Bernard. This I know, that, at a meeting of Ministers at Cambridge, August 1, 1692, where were present seven Elders, besides the President of the College, the question then discoursed on, was, whether the Devil may not sometimes have a permission to represent an innocent person as tormenting such as are under diabolical molestations? The answer, which they all concurred in, was in these words, viz. 'That the Devil may sometimes have a permission to represent an innocent person as tormenting such as are under diabolical molestations; but that such things are rare and extraordinary, especially when such matters come before civil judicatures'; and that some of the most eminent Ministers of the land, who were not at that meeting, are of the same judgment, I am assured. And I am also sure that, in cases of this nature, the Priest's lips should keep knowledge, and they should seek the law at his mouth. _Mal._, 2, 7." What was meant by the quotation from Malachi is left to conjecture. It looks like the notion I have supposed Cotton Mather to have, more or less, cherished, at different times--to have such cases committed to the confidential custody and management of one or more Ministers. Whether Cotton Mather, as well as his father, was at this meeting, is not stated. The expressions "rare and extraordinary" and "sometimes have a permission," and the general style of the language, are like his. At any rate, in referring to the meeting, in his _Wonders of the Invisible World_, he speaks of the Ministers present "as very pious and learned;" says that they uttered the prevailing sense of others "eminently cautious and judicious;" and declares that they "have both argument and history to countenance them in it." It is to be noticed, that this opinion of the Ministers, given on the first of August, if it did not authorize the admission, without reserve or limitation, of spectral evidence, in judicial proceedings, reduces the objection to it to an almost inappreciable point. Observe the date. Already six women, heads of families, many of them of respectable positions in society, all in advanced life, one or two quite aged, and two, at least, of the most eminent Christian character, had suffered death, wholly from spectral evidence, that is, no other testimony was brought against them, as all admit, that could, even then, have convicted them. Twelve days had elapsed since five of them had been executed; in four more days, six others were to be brought to trial, among them the Rev. George Burroughs; and the Ministers pass a vote, under the lead of Increase Mather, and with the express approval of Cotton Mather, that there is very little danger of innocent people suffering, in judicial proceedings, from spectral evidence. Let us hear no more that the Clergy of New England accepted the doctrines of those writers who had "declared against the admission of spectral testimony;" that "the Magistrates rejected those doctrines;" that "all the evils at Salem, grew out of the position taken by the Magistrates;" and that "it had been well with the twenty victims at Salem, if the Ministers of the Colony, instead of the Lawyers, had determined their fate." The Clergy of New England did, indeed, entertain great regard for the authority of certain writers, who were considered as, more or less, discrediting spectral evidence. The Mathers professed to concur with them in that judgment; but the ground taken at the meeting on the first of August, as above stated, was, it must be allowed, inconsistent with it. The passages I have given, and shall give, from the writings of Cotton Mather, will illustrate the elaborate ingenuity he displayed in trying to reconcile a respect for the said writers with the admission of that species of evidence, to an extent they were considered as disallowing. I am indebted to George H. Moore, LL.D., of New York city, for the following important document. John Foster was, at its date, a member of the Council. Hutchinson, who was his grandson, speaks of him [_History, ii., 21_] as a "merchant of Boston of the first rank," "who had a great share in the management of affairs from 1689 to 1692." In the latter year, he was raised to the Council Board, being named as such in the new Charter; and held his seat, by annual elections, to the close of his life, in 1710. He seems to have belonged to the Church of the Mathers, as the father and son each preached and printed a Sermon on the occasion of his death. _Autograph Letter of COTTON MATHER, on Witchcraft, presented to the Literary and Historical Society, by the Honorable Chief-justice SEWELL._[3] 17^th 6^m, 1692. "S^r: "You would know whether I still retain my opinion about y^e horrible Witchcrafts among us, and I acknowledge that I do. "I do still Think That when there is no further Evidence against a person but only This, That a Spectre in their shape does afflict a neighbour, that Evidence is not enough to convict y^e * * * of Witchcraft. "That the Divels have a natural power w^ch makes them capable of exhibiting what shape they please I suppose nobody doubts, and I have no absolute promise of God that they shall not exhibit _mine_. "It is the opinion generally of all protestant writers that y^e Divel may thus abuse y^e innocent, yea, tis y^e confession of some popish ones. And o^r Honorable Judges are so eminent for their Justice, Wisdom, & Goodness that whatever their own particular sense may bee, yett they will not proceed capitally against any, upon a principle contested with great odds on y^e other side in y^e Learned and Godly world. "_Nevertheless, a very great use is to bee made of y^e Spectral impression upon y^e sufferers. They Justly Introduce, and Determine, an Enquiry into y^e circumstances of y^e person accused; and they strengthen other presumptions._ "_When so much use is made of those Things, I believe y^e use for w^ch y^e Great God intends y^m is made._ And accordingly you see that y^e Eccellent Judges have had such an Encouraging presence of God with them, as that scarce any, if at all any, have been Tried before them, against whom God has not strangely sent in other, & more Humane & most convincing Testimonies. "If any persons have been condemned, about whom any of y^e Judges, are not easy in their minds, that y^e Evidence against them, has been satisfactory, it would certainly bee for y^e glory of the whole Transaction to give that person a Reprieve. "It would make all matters easier if at least Bail were taken for people Accused only by y^e invisible tormentors of y^e poor sufferers and not Blemished by any further Grounds of suspicion against them. "The odd Effects produced upon the sufferers by y^e look or touch of the accused are things wherein y^e Divels may as much Impose upon some Harmless people as by the Representacôn of their shapes. "My notion of these matters is this. A Suspected and unlawful com'union with a Familiar Spirit, is the Thing enquired after. The communion on the _Divel's_ part, may bee proved, while, for ought I can say, The _man_ may bee Innocent; the Divel may impudently Impose his com'union upon some that care not for his company. But if the com'union on y^e man's part bee proved, then the Business is done. "I am suspicious Lest y^e Divel may at some time or other, serve us a trick by his constancy for a long while in one way of Dealing. Wee may find the Divel using one constant course in Nineteen several Actions, and yett hee bee too hard for us at last, if wee thence make a Rule to form an Infallible Judgement of a Twentieth. It is o^r singular Happiness That wee are blessed with Judges who are Aware of this Danger. "For my own part if the Holy God should permitt such a Terrible calamity to befal myself as that a Spectre in my Shape should so molest my neighbourhood, as that they can have no quiet, altho' there should be no other Evidence against me, I should very patiently submit unto a Judgement of _Transportation_, and all reasonable men would count o^r Judges to Act, as they are like y^e Fathers of y^e public, in such a Judgment. What if such a Thing should be ordered for those whose Guilt is more Dubious, and uncertain, whose presence y^s perpetuates y^e miseries of o^r sufferers? They would cleanse y^e Land of Witchcrafts, and yett also prevent y^e shedding of Innocent Blood, whereof some are so apprehensive of Hazard. If o^r Judges want any Good Bottom, to act thus upon, You know, that besides y^e usual power of Govern^es, to Relax many Judgments of Death, o^r General Court can soon provide a law. "S^r, "You see y^e Incoherency of my Thoughts but I hope, you will also some Reasonableness in those Thoughts. "In the year 1645, a Vast Number of persons in y^e county of _Suffolk_ were apprehended, as Guilty of Witchcraft; whereof, some confessed. The parlament granted a special commission of _Oyer & Terminer_ for y^e Trial of those Witches; in w^ch com'ission, there were a famous Divine or two, M^r _Fariclough_ particularly inserted. That Eccellent man did preach two sermons to y^e Court, before his first sitting on y^e Bench: Wherein having first proved the Existence of Witches, hee afterwards showed y^e Evil of Endeavouring y^e Conviction of any upon Defective Evidence. The Sermon had the Effect that none were Condemned, who could bee saved w^thout an Express Breach of y^e Law; & then tho' 'twas possible some Guilty did Escape, yett the troubles of those places, were, I think Extinguished. "O^r case is Extraordinary. And so, you and others will pardon y^e Extraordinary Liberty I take to address You on this occasion. But after all, I Entreat you, that whatever you do, you Strengthen y^e Hands of o^r Honourable Judges in y^e Great work before y^m. They are persons, for whom no man living has a greater veneration, than "S^r, Your Servant C. MATHER. "For the Honourable JOHN FOSTER, ESQ." This letter must be considered, I think, as settling the question. It was written two days before the execution of Burroughs, Proctor, and others. It entirely disposes of the assertions of the Reviewer, that Mather "denounced" the "admission" of spectral testimony, and demonstrates the truth of the positions, taken in this article, that he authorized fully its admission, as affording occasion of enquiry and matter of presumption, sufficient, if reinforced by other evidence, to justify conviction. The sentences I have italicised leave no further room for discussion. The language in which the Judges and their conduct of the Trials are spoken of, could not have been stronger. The reference to the course taken in England, in 1645, sheds light upon the suggestions I have made, as to Mather's notion, that one or more Ministers--"a famous Divine or two,"--ought to have been connected, "by authority," with the Court of Oyer and Terminer, in the management of the cases. The idea thrown out, as to Transportation, could hardly, it would seem, but have been apparent to a reflecting person, as utterly impracticable. No convicts or parties under indictment or arrest for the crime of witchcraft, could have been shipped off to any other part of the British dominions. A vessel, with persons on board, with such a stamp upon them, would have been everywhere repelled with as much vehemence and panic, as if freighted with the yellow fever, small-pox, or plague. If the unhappy creatures she bore beneath her hatches, should have been landed in any other part of the then called Christian or civilized world, stigmatized with the charge of witchcraft, they would have met with the halter or the fagot; and scarcely have fared better, if cast upon any savage shore. We have seen how our Reviewer _makes_, let us now see how he _unmakes_, history. Robert Calef, in his book entitled _More Wonders of the Invisible World_, Part V., under the head of "An impartial account of the most memorable matters of fact, touching the supposed Witchcraft in New England," [_p. 103_,] says: "Mr. Burroughs was carried in a cart, with the others, through the streets of Salem to execution. When he was upon the ladder, he made a speech for the clearing of his innocency, with such solemn and serious expressions, as were to the admiration of all present; his prayer (which he concluded by repeating the Lord's prayer) was so well worded, and uttered with such composedness, and such (at least seeming) fervency of spirit, as was very affecting, and drew tears from many, so that it seemed to some that the spectators would hinder the execution. The accusers said the black man stood and dictated to him. As soon as he was turned off, Mr. Cotton Mather, being mounted upon a horse, addressed himself to the people, partly to declare that he (Burroughs) was no ordained Minister, and partly to possess the people of his guilt, saying that the Devil has often been transformed into an Angel of Light; and this somewhat appeased the people; and the executions went on. When he was cut down, he was dragged by the halter to a hole, or grave, between the rocks, about two feet deep, his shirt and breeches being pulled off, and an old pair of trowsers of one executed, put on his lower parts; he was so put in, together with Willard and Carrier, that one of his hands and his chin, and a foot of one of them, were left uncovered." The Reviewer undertakes to set aside this statement; to erase it altogether from the record; and to throw it from the belief and memory of mankind. But this cannot be done, but by an arbitrary process, that would wipe out all the facts of all history, and leave the whole Past an utter blank. If any record has passed the final ordeal, this has. It is beyond the reach of denial; and no power on earth can start the solid foundation on which it stands. It consists of distinct, plainly stated averments, which, as a whole, or severally, if not true, and known to be true, might have been denied, or questioned, at the time. Not disputed, nor controverted, then, it never can be. If not true to the letter, so far as Cotton Mather is concerned, hundreds, nay thousands, were at hand, who would have contradicted it. Certificates without number, like that of John Goodwin, would have been procured to invalidate it. Consisting of specifications, in detail, if there had been in it the minutest item that could have admitted contradiction, it would have been seized upon, and used with the utmost eagerness to break the force of the statement. It was printed at London, in 1700, in a volume accredited there, and immediately put into circulation here, twenty-eight years before the death of Mather. He had a copy of it, now in possession of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and wrote on the inside of the front cover, "My desire is, that mine adversary had written a book," etc. His father, the President of Harvard University, had a copy; for the book was burned in the College-square. Everything contributed to call universal attention to it. Its author was known, avowed, and his name printed on the title page; he lived in the same town with Mather; and was in all respects a responsible man. No attempt was made, at the time, nor at any time, until now, to overthrow the statement or disprove any of its specifications. Let us see how the Reviewer undertakes to controvert it. As to Mather's being on horseback, the argument seems to be, that it was customary, then, for people to travel in that way! The harangue to the people to prevail upon them to pay no heed to the composed, devout, and forgiving deportment of the sufferers, because the Devil often appeared as an Angel of Light, sounded strangely from one who had attended the prisoners as their "spiritual comforter and friend." It was a queer conclusion of his services of consolation and pastoral offices, to proclaim to the crowd, that the truly Christian expressions of the persons in his charge were all a diabolical sham. One would have thought, if he accompanied them in the capacity alleged, he would have dismounted before ascending the hill, and tenderly waited upon them, side by side, holding them by the hand and sustaining them by his arm, as they approached the fatal ladder; and that his last benedictions, upon their departing souls, would have been in somewhat different language. That language was entirely natural, however, believing, as he did, that they were all guilty of the unpardonable sin, in its blackest dye; that, obstinately refusing to confess, they were reprobates, sunk far below the ordinary level of human crime, beyond the pale of sympathy or prayer, enemies of God, in covenant with the Devil, and firebrands of Hell. All this he believed. Of course, he could not pray _with_, and could hardly be expected to pray _for_, them. The language ascribed to him by Calef, expressed his honest convictions; bears the stamp of credibility; was not denied or disavowed, then; and cannot be discredited, now. If those sufferers, wearing the resplendent aspect of faith, forgiveness, and piety, in their dying hour, were, in reality, "the Devil appearing as the Angel of Light," nobody but the Reviewer is to blame for charging Mather with being his "spiritual adviser and counsellor." The Reviewer says that the horse Mather rode on that occasion, "has been tramping through history, for nearly two centuries. It is time that he be reined up." Not having been reined up by Mather, it is in vain for the Reviewer to attempt it. Mazeppa, on his wild steed, was not more powerless. The "man on horseback," described by Calef, will go tramping on through all the centuries to come, as through the "nearly two centuries" that have passed. To discredit another part of the statement of Calef, the Reviewer cites the _Description and History of Salem_, by the Rev. William Bentley, in the Sixth Volume of the First Series of the _Massachusetts Historical Collections_, printed in 1800, quoting the following passage: "It was said that the bodies were not properly buried; but, upon an examination of the ground, the graves were found of the usual depth, and remains of the bodies, and of the wood in which they were interred." At the time when this was written, there was a tradition to that effect. But it is understood that, early in this century, an examination was made of the spot, pointed out by the tradition upon which Bentley had relied, and nothing was found to sustain it. It is apparent that this tradition was, to some extent, incorrect, because it is quite certain that three, and probably most, of the bodies were recovered by their friends, at the time; but chiefly because it is believed, on sufficient grounds, that the locality, indicated in the tradition that had reached Doctor Bentley, was, in 1692, covered by the original forest. Of course, a passage through woods, to a spot, even now, after the trees have been wholly removed from the hill and all its sides, so very difficult of access, would not have been encountered; neither can it be supposed that an open area would have been elaborately prepared for the place of execution, in the midst of a forest, entirely shut in from observation, by surrounding trees, with their thick foliage, in that season of the year. If seclusion had been the object, a wooded spot might have been found, near at hand, on level areas, anywhere in the neighborhood of the town. But it was not a secluded, but a conspicuous, place that was sought; not only an elevated, but an open, theatre for the awe-inspiring spectacle, displaying to the whole people and world--to use the language employed by Mather, in the _Advice of the Ministers_ and in one of his letters to Richards--the "Success" of the Court, in "extinguishing that horrible witchcraft." Another tradition, brought down through a family, ever since residing on the same spot, in the neighborhood, and from the longevity of its successive heads, passing through but few memories, and for that reason highly deserving of credit, is, that its representative, at that time, lent his aid in the removal of the bodies of the victims, in the night, and secretly, across the river, in a boat. The recollections of the transaction are preserved in considerable detail. From the locality, it is quite certain that the bodies were brought to it from the southern end of Witch-hill. From a recently-discovered letter of Dr. Holyoke, mentioned in my book [_ii., 377_], it appears that the executions must have taken place there. The earth is so thin, scattered between projecting ledges of rock, which, indeed, cover much of the surface, that few trees probably ever grew there; and a bare, elevated platform afforded a conspicuous site, and room for the purpose. These conclusions, to which recent discoveries and explorations have led, remarkably confirm Calef's statements. From Sheriff Corwin's _Return_, we know that the first victim was buried "in the place" where she was executed; and it may be supposed all the rest were. The soil is shallow, near the brow of the precipice and between the clefts of the rock. The Reviewer desires to know my authority for saying that the ground, where Burroughs was buried, "was trampled down by the mob." I presume that when, less than five weeks afterwards, eight more persons were hanged there, belonging to respectable families in what are now Peabody, Marblehead, Topsfield, Rowley and Andover, as well as Salem, and a spectacle again presented to which crowds flocked from all quarters, and to which many particularly interested must have been drawn, besides those from the populous neighborhood, especially if men "on horseback" mingled in the throng, the ground must have been considerably trampled upon. Poor Burroughs had been suddenly torn from his family and home, more than a hundred miles away; there were no immediate connections, here, who would have been likely to recover his remains; and, it is therefore probable, they had been left where they were thrown, near the foot of the gallows. There is one point upon which the Reviewer is certain he has "demolished" Calef. The latter speaks of the victims as having been hanged, one after another. The Reviewer says, the mode of execution was to have them "swung off at once;" and further uses this argument: "Calef himself furnishes us with evidence that such was the practice in Salem, where eight persons were hanged thirty-six days later. He says, 'After the execution, Mr. Noyes, turning him to the bodies, said--What a sad thing it is to see eight firebrands of Hell hanging there.'" The argument is, eight were hanging there together, after the execution; therefore, they must have been swung off at the same moment! This is a kind of reasoning with which--to adopt Mather's expression in describing diabolical horrors, capital trials, and condemnations to death--we are "entertained" throughout by the Reviewer. The truth is, we have no particular knowledge of the machinery, or its operations, at these executions. A "halter," a "ladder," a "gallows," a "hangman," are spoken of. The expression used for the final act is, "turned off." There is no shadow of evidence to contradict Calef. The probabilities seem to be against the supposition of a structure, on a scale so large, as to allow room for eight persons to be turned off at once. The outstretching branches from large trees, on the borders of the clearing, would have served the purpose, and a ladder, connected with a simple frame, might have been passed from tree to tree. The Regicides, thirty years before, had been executed in England in the method Calef understood to have been used here. Hugh Peters was carried to execution with Judge Cook. The latter suffered first; and when Peters ascended the ladder, turning to the officer of the law, he uttered these memorable words, exhibiting a state of the faculties, a grandeur of bearing, and a force and felicity of language and illustration, all the circumstances considered, not surpassed in the records of Christian heroism or true eloquence: "Sir, you have slain one of the servants of God, before mine eyes, and have made me to behold it, on purpose to terrify and discourage me; but God hath made it an ordinance unto me, for my strengthening and encouragement." While the trials were going on, Mather made use of his pulpit to influence the public mind, already wrought up to frenzy, to greater heights of fanaticism, by portraying, in his own peculiar style, the out-breaking battle between the Church and the Devil. On the day before Burroughs, who was regarded as the head of the Church, and General of the forces, of Satan, was brought to the Bar, Mather preached a Sermon from the text, _Rev._, xii., 12. "Wo to the inhabitants of the earth, and of the Sea! for the Devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth he hath but a short time." It is thickly interspersed with such passages as these: "Now, at last, the Devils are, (if I may so speak), _in Person_ come down upon us, with such a wrath, as is most justly _much_, and will quickly be _more_, the astonishment of the world." "There is little room for hope, that the great wrath of the Devil will not prove the ruin of our poor New England, in particular. I believe there never was a poor plantation more pursued by the wrath of the Devil than our poor New England." "We may truly say, _Tis the hour and power of darkness_. But, though the wrath be so great, the time is but short: when we are perplexed with the wrath of the Devil, the word of our God, at the same time, unto us, is that in _Rom._, xvi., 20. '_The God of Peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly._' Shortly, didst thou say, dearest Lord? O gladsome word! Amen, even so, come Lord! Lord Jesus, come quickly! We shall never be rid of this troublesome Devil, till thou do come to chain him up."--_Wonders, etc._ There is much in the Sermon that relates to the sins of the people, generally, and some allusions to the difficulties that encompass the subject of diabolical appearances; but the witchcraft in Salem is portrayed in colors, which none but a thorough believer in all that was there brought forward, could apply; the whole train of ideas and exhortations is calculated to inflame the imaginations and passions of the people; and it is closed by "An hortatory and necessary Address to a country now extraordinarily alarum'd by the Wrath of the Devil." In this Address, he goes, at length, into the horrible witchcraft at Salem Village. "Such," says he, "is the descent of the Devil, at this day, upon ourselves, that I may truly tell you, the walls of the whole world are broken down." He enumerates, as undoubtedly true, in detail, all that was said by the "afflicted children" and "confessing witches." He says of the reputed witches: "They each of them have their spectres or devils, commissioned by them, and representing of them, to be the engines of their malice." Such expressions as these are scattered over the pages, "wicked spectres," "diabolical spectres," "owners of spectres," "spectre's hands," "spectral book," etc. And yet it is stated, by the Reviewer, that Mather was opposed to spectral evidence, and denounced it! He gave currency to it, in the popular faith, during the whole period, while the trials and executions were going on, more than any other man. He preached another Sermon, of the same kind, entitled, _The Devil Discovered_. After the trials by the Special Court were over, and that body had been forbidden to meet on the day to which it had adjourned, he addressed another letter to John Richards, one of its members, dated "Dec. 14th, 1692," to be found in the _Mather Papers_, p. 397. It is a characteristic document, and, in some points of view, commendable. Its purpose was to induce Richards to consent to a measure he was desirous of introducing into his pastoral administration, to which Richards and one other member of his Church had manifested repugnance. Cotton Mather was in advance of his times, in liberality of views, relating to denominational matters. He desired to open the door to the Ordinances, particularly Baptism, wider than was the prevalent practice. He urges his sentiments upon Richards in earnest and fitting tones; but resorts, also, to flattering, and what may be called coaxing, tones. He calls him, "My ever-honored Richards," "Dearest Sir," "my dear Major," and reminds him of the public and constant support he had given to his official conduct: "I have signalized my perpetual respects before the whole world." In this letter, he refers to the Salem witchcraft prosecutions, and pronounces unqualified approval and high encomiums upon Richards's share in the proceedings, as one of the Judges. "God has made more than an ordinary use of your honorable hand," in "the extinguishing" of "that horrible witchcraft," into which "the Devils have been baptizing so many of our miserable neighbors." This language is hardly consistent with a serious, substantial, considerable, or indeed with any, disapprobation of the proceedings of the Court. FOOTNOTES: [3] _Transactions of the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec_--Octavo, Quebec, 1831--ii., 313-316. XI. LETTER TO STEPHEN SEWALL. "WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD." ITS ORIGIN AND DESIGN. COTTON MATHER'S ACCOUNT OF THE TRIALS. I come now to the examination of matters of interest and importance, not only as illustrating the part acted by Mather in the witchcraft affair, but as bearing upon the public history of the Province of Massachusetts Bay, at that time. The reader is requested carefully to examine the following letter, addressed by Cotton Mather to Stephen Sewall, Clerk of the Court at Salem. "BOSTON, Sept. 20, 1692. "MY DEAR AND MY VERY OBLIGING STEPHEN, "It is my hap, to bee continually * * * with all sorts of objections, and objectors against the * * * work now doing at Salem, and it is my further good hap, to do some little Service for God and you, in my encounters. "But, that I may be the more capable to assist, in lifting up a standard against the infernal enemy, I must renew my most IMPORTUNATE REQUEST, that would please quickly to perform, what you kindly promised, of giving me a narrative of the evidence given in at the trials of half a dozen, or if you please, a dozen, of the principal witches, that have been condemned. I know 'twill cost you some time; but when you are sensible of the benefit that will follow, I know you will not think much of that cost, and my own willingness to expose myself unto the utmost for the defence of my friends with you, makes me presume to plead something of merit, to be considered. "I shall be content, if you draw up the desired narrative by way of letter to me, or at least, let it not come without a letter, wherein you shall, if you can, intimate over again, what you have sometimes told me, of the awe, which is upon the hearts of your Juries, with * * * unto the validity of the spectral evidences. "Please also to * * * some of your observations about the confessors, and the credibility of what they assert; or about things evidently preternatural in the witchcrafts, and whatever else you may account an entertainment, for an inquisitive person, that entirely loves you, and Salem. Nay, though I will never lay aside the character which I mentioned in my last words, yet, I am willing that, when you write, you should imagine me as obstinate a Sadducee and witch-advocate, as any among us: address me as one that believed nothing reasonable; and when you have so knocked me down, in a spectre so unlike me, you will enable me to box it about, among my neighbors, till it come, I know not where at last. "But assure yourself, as I shall not wittingly make what you write prejudicial to any worthy design, which those two excellent persons, Mr. Hale and Mr. Noyes, may have in hand, so you shall find that I shall be, "Sir, your grateful friend, C. MATHER." "P. S. That which very much strengthens the charms of the request, which this letter makes you, is that his Excellency, the Governor, laid his positive commands upon me to desire this favor of you; and the truth is, there are some of his circumstances with reference to this affair, which I need not mention, that call for the expediting of your kindness, _kindness_, I say, for such it will be esteemed, as well by him, as by your servant, C. MATHER." The point, on which the Reviewer raises an objection to the statement in my book, in reference to this letter, is, as to the antecedent of "it," in the expression, "box it about." The opinion I gave was that it referred to the document requested to be sent by Sewall. The Reviewer says it refers to "a Spectre," in the preceding line, or as he expresses it, "the fallen Spectre of Sadduceeism." Every one can judge for himself on inspection of the passage. After all, it is a mere quibbling about words, for the meaning remains substantially the same. Indeed, that which he gives is more to my purpose. Let it go, that Mather desired the document, and intended to use it, to break down all objectors to the work then doing in Salem. Whoever disapproved of such proceedings, or intimated any doubt concerning the popular notions about witchcraft, were called "Sadducees and witch-advocates." These terms were used by Mather, on all occasions, as marks of opprobrium, to stigmatize and make odious such persons. If they could once be silenced, witchcraft demonstrations and prosecutions might be continued, without impediment or restraint, until they should "come," no one could tell "where, at last." "The fallen Spectre of Sadduceeism" was to be the trophy of Mather's victory; and Sewall's letter was to be the weapon to lay it low. Each of the paragraphs of this letter demonstrates the position Mather occupied, and the part he had taken, in the transactions at Salem. Mr. Hale had acted, up to this time, earnestly with Noyes and Parris; and the letter shows that Mather had the sympathies and the interests of a cooperator with them, and in their "designs." Every person of honorable feelings can judge for himself of the suggestion to Sewall, to be a partner in a false representation to the public, by addressing Mather "in a spectre so unlike" him--that is, in a character which he, Sewall, knew, as well as Mather, to be wholly contrary to the truth. Blinded, active, and vehement, as the Clerk of the Court had been, in carrying on the prosecutions, it is gratifying to find reason to conclude that he was not so utterly lost to self-respect as to comply with the jesuitical request, or lend himself to any such false connivance. The letter was written at the height of the fury of the delusion, immediately upon a Session of the Court, at which all tried had been condemned, eight of whom suffered two days after its date. Any number of others were under sentence of death. The letter was a renewal of "a most importunate request." I cite it, here, at this stage of the examination of the subject, particularly on account of the postscript. Every one has been led to suppose that "His Excellency, the Governor," who had laid such "positive commands" upon Mather to obtain the desired document from Sewall, was Sir William Phips. The avowed purpose of Mather, in seeking it, was to put it into circulation--to "box it about"--thereby to produce an effect, to the putting down of Sadduceeism, or all further opposition to witchcraft prosecutions. He, undoubtedly, contemplated making it a part of his book, the _Wonders of the Invisible World_, printed, the next year, in London. The statement made by him always was, that he wrote that book in compliance with orders laid upon him to that effect by "His Excellency, the Governor." The imprimatur, in conspicuous type, in front of one of the editions of the book, is "Published by the special command of his Excellency, the Governor of the Province of the Massachusetts Bay in New England." On the sixteenth of September, Sir William Phips had notified the Council of his going to the eastward; and that body was adjourned to the fourteenth of October. From his habitual promptness, and the pressing exigency of affairs in the neighborhood of the Kennebec, it is to be presumed that he left immediately; and, as it was expected to be a longer absence than usual, it can hardly be doubted that, as on the first of August, he formally, by a written instrument, passed the Government over to Stoughton. At any rate, while he was away from his Province proper, the Deputy necessarily acceded to the Executive functions. In the Sewall Diary we find the following: "SEPT. 21. A petition is sent to Town, in behalf of Dorcas Hoar, who now confesses. Accordingly, an order is sent to the Sheriff to forbear her execution, notwithstanding her being in the Warrant to die to-morrow. This is the first condemned person who has confessed." The granting of this reprieve was an executive act, that would seem to have belonged to the functions of the person filling the office of Governor; and Phips being absent, it could only have been performed by Stoughton, and shows, therefore, that he, at that time, acted as Governor. As such, he was, by custom and etiquette, addressed--"His Excellency." The next day, eight were executed, four of them having been sentenced on the ninth of September, and four on the seventeenth, which was on Saturday. The whole eight were included, as is to be inferred from the foregoing entry, and is otherwise known, in the same Warrant, which could not, therefore, have been made out before the nineteenth. The next day, Mather wrote the letter to Sewall; and the language, in its Postscript, may have referred to Stoughton; particularly this clause: "There are some of his circumstances, with reference to this affair." As Phips had, from the first, left all the proceedings with the Chief-justice, who had presided at all the trials, and was, by universal acknowledgment, especially responsible for all the proceedings and results, the words of Mather are much more applicable to Stoughton than to Phips. Upon receiving these "importunate requests" from Mather, proposing such a form of reply, to be used in such a way, Sewall thought it best to adopt the course indicated in the following entry, in the Diary of his brother, the Judge: "THURSDAY, SEPT. 22, 1692. William Stoughton, Esq., John Hathorne, Esq., Mr. Cotton Mather, and Capt. John Higginson, with my brother St. were at our house, speaking about publishing some trials of the witches." It appears that Stephen Sewall, instead of answering Mather's letter in writing, went directly to Boston, accompanied by Hathorne and Higginson, and met Mather and Stoughton at the house of the Judge. No other Minister was present; and Judge Sewall was not Mather's parishioner. The whole matter was there talked over. The project Mather had been contemplating was matured; and arrangements made with Stephen Sewall, who had them in his custody, to send to Mather the Records of the trials; and, thus provided, he proceeded, without further delay, in obedience to the commands laid upon him by "his Excellency," to prepare for the press, _The Wonders of the Invisible World_, which was designed to send to the shades, "Sadduceeism," to extirpate "witch-advocates," and to leave the course clear for the indefinite continuance of the prosecutions, until, as Stoughton expressed it, "the land was cleared" of all witches. The presence of the Deputy-governor, at this private conference, shows the prominent part he bore in the movement, and corroborates, what is inferrible from the dates, that he was "His Excellency, the Governor," referred to in the documents connected with this transaction. It is observable, by the way, that the references are always to the official character and title, and not to the name of the person, whether Phips or Stoughton. I now proceed to examine the book, written and brought forward, under these circumstances and for this purpose. It contains much of which I shall avail myself, to illustrate the position and the views of Mather, at the time. The length to which this article is extended, by the method I have adopted of quoting documents so fully, is regretted; but it seems necessary, in order to meet the interest that has been awakened in the subject, by the article in the _North American Review_, to make the enquiry as thorough as possible. Only a part of the work is devoted to the main purpose for which it was ostensibly and avowedly designed. That I shall first notice. It is introduced as follows: "I shall no longer detain my reader from his expected entertainment, in a brief account of the Trials which have passed upon some of the Malefactors lately executed at Salem, for the witchcrafts whereof they stood convicted. For my own part, I was not present at any of them; nor ever had I any personal prejudice at the persons thus brought upon the Stage; much less, at the surviving relations of those persons, with and for whom I would be as hearty a mourner, as any man living in the world: _The Lord comfort them!_ But having received a command so to do, I can do no other than shortly relate the chief _Matters of Fact_, which occurred in the trials of some that were executed; in an abridgement collected out of the _Court Papers_, on this occasion put into my hands. You are to take the _Truth_, just as it was."--_Wonders of the Invisible World, p. 54._ He singles out five cases and declares: "I report matters not as an _Advocate_, but as an _Historian_." After further prefacing his account, by relating, _A modern instance of Witches, discovered and condemned, in a trial before that celebrated Judge, Sir Matthew Hale_, he comes to the trial of George Burroughs. He spreads out, without reserve, the spectral evidence, given in this as in all the cases, and without the least intimation of objection from himself, or any one else, to its being _admitted_, as, "with other things to render it credible" enough for the purpose of conviction. Any one reading his account, and at the same time examining the documents on file, will be able to appreciate how far he was justified in saying, that he reported it in the spirit of an historian rather than an advocate. Let, us, first, see what the "Court papers, put into his hands," amounted to; as we find them in the files. "The Deposition of Simon Willard, aged about 42 years, saith: I being at Saco, in the year 1689, some in Capt. Ed. Sargent's garrison were speaking of Mr. George Burroughs his great strength, saying he could take a barrel of molasses out of a canoe or boat, alone; and that he could take it in his hands, or arms, out of the canoe or boat, and carry it, and set it on the shore: and Mr. Burroughs being there, said that he had carried one barrel of molasses or cider out of a canoe, that had like to have done him a displeasure; said Mr. Burroughs intimated, as if he did not want strength to do it, but the disadvantage of the shore was such, that, his foot slipping in the sand, he had liked to have strained his leg." Willard was uncertain whether Burroughs had stated it to be molasses or cider. John Brown testified about a "barrel of cider." Burroughs denied the statement, as to the molasses, thereby impliedly admitting that he had so carried a barrel of cider. Samuel Webber testified that, seven or eight years before, Burroughs told him that, by putting his fingers into the bung of a barrel of molasses, he had lifted it up, and "carried it round him, and set it down again." Parris, in his notes of this trial, not in the files, says that "_Capt. Wormwood_ testified about the gun and the molasses." But the papers on file give the name as "_Capt. W^m Wormall_," and represents that he, referring to the gun, "swore" that he "saw George Burroughs raise it from the ground." His testimony, with this exception, was merely confirmatory, in general terms, of another deposition of Simon Willard, to the effect, that Burroughs, in explanation of one of the stories about his great strength, showed him how he held a gun of "about seven foot barrel," by taking it "in his hand behind the lock," and holding it out; Willard further stating that he did not see him "hold it out then," and that he, Willard, so taking the gun with both hands, could not hold it out long enough to take sight. The testimony, throughout, was thus loose and conflicting, almost wholly mere hearsay, of no value, logically or legally. All that was really proved being what Burroughs admitted, that is, as to the cider. But, in the statement made by him to Willard, at Saco, as deposed by the latter, he mentioned a circumstance, namely, the straining of his leg, which, if not true, could easily have been disproved, that demonstrated the effort to have been made, and the feat accomplished, by the natural exercise of muscular power. If preternatural force had aided him, it would have been supplied in sufficient quantity to have prevented such a mishap. To convey the impression that the exhibitions of strength ascribed to Burroughs were proofs of diabolical assistance, and demonstrations that he was guilty of the crime of witchcraft, Mather says "he was a very puny man, yet he had often done things beyond the strength of a giant." There is nothing to justify the application of the word "puny" to him, except that he was of small stature. Such persons are often very strong. Burroughs had, from his college days, been noted for gymnastic exercises. There is nothing, I repeat, to justify the use of the word, by Mather, in the sense he designed to convey, of bodily weakness. The truth is, that his extraordinary muscular power, as exhibited in such feats as lifting the barrel of cider, was the topic of neighborhood talk; and there was much variation, as is usual in such cases, some having it a barrel of cider, and some, of molasses. There is, among the Court papers, a _Memorandum, in Mr. George Burroughs trial, beside the written evidences_. One item is the testimony of Thomas Evans, "that he carried out barrels of molasses, meat, &c., out of a canoe, whilst his mate went to the fort for hands to help out with." Here we see another variation of the story. The amount of it is, that, while the mate thought assistance needed, and went to get it, Burroughs concluded to do the work himself. If the Prisoner had been allowed Counsel; or any discernment been left in the Judges, the whole of this evidence would have been thrown out of account, as without foundation and frivolous in its character; yet Increase Mather, who was present, was entirely carried away with it, and declared that, upon it alone, if on the Bench or in the jury-box, he would have convicted the Prisoner. It is quite doubtful, however, whether the above testimony of Evans was given in, at the trial; for the next clause, in the same paragraph, is Sarah Wilson's confession, that: "The night before Mr. Burroughs was executed, there was a great meeting of the witches, nigh Sargeant Chandlers, that Mr. Burroughs was there, and they had the sacrament, and after they had done, he took leave, and bid them stand to their faith, and not own any thing. Martha Tyler saith the same with Sarah Wilson, and several others." The testimony of these two confessing witches, "and several others," relating, as it did, to what was alleged to have happened "the night before Mr. Burroughs was executed," could not have been given at his trial, nor until after his death. Yet, as but three other confessing witches are mentioned in the files of this case, Mather must have relied upon this Memorandum to make up the "eight" said, by him, to have testified, "in the prosecution of the charge" against Burroughs. Hale, misled, perhaps, by the Memorandum, uses the indefinite expression "seven or eight." We know that one of the confessing witches, who had given evidence against Burroughs, retracted it before the Court, previous to his execution; but Mather makes no mention of that fact. To go back to the barrel Mr. Burroughs lifted. I have stated the substance of the whole testimony relating to the point. Mather characterizes it, thus, in his report of the trial: "There was evidence likewise brought in, that he made nothing of taking up whole barrels, filled with molasses or cider, in very disadvantageous positions, and carrying them off, through the most difficult places, out of a canoe to the shore." He made up this statement, as its substance and phraseology show, from Willard's deposition, then lying before him. In his use of that part of the evidence, in particular, as of the whole evidence, generally, the reader can judge whether he exhibited the spirit of an historian or of an advocate; and whether there was any thing to justify his expression, "made nothing of." Any one scrutinizing the evidence, which, strange to say, was allowed to come in on a trial for witchcraft, relating to alleged misunderstandings between Burroughs and his two wives, involved in an alienation between him and some of the relations of the last, will see that it amounts to nothing more than the scandals incident to imbittered parish quarrels, and inevitably engendered in such a state of credulity and malevolence, as the witchcraft prosecutions produced. Yet our "historian," in his report of the case, says: "Now G. B. had been infamous, for the barbarous usage of his two successive wives, all the country over." In my book, in connection with another piece of evidence in the papers, given, like that of the confessing witches just referred to, long after Burroughs's execution, I expressed surprise that the irregularity of putting such testimony among the documents belonging to the trial, escaped the notice of Hutchinson, eminent jurist as he was, and also of Calef. The Reviewer represents this remark as one of my "very grave and unsupported charges against the honesty of Cotton Mather." I said nothing about Mather in connection with that point, but expressed strong disapprobation of the conduct of the official persons who procured the deposition to be made, and of those having the custody of the papers. The Reviewer, imagining that my censure was levelled at Mather, and resolved to defend him, through thick and thin, denies that the document in question was "surreptitiously foisted in." But there it was, when Mather had the papers, and there it now is,--its date a month after Burroughs was in his rocky grave. The Reviewer says that if I had looked to the end of Mather's notice of the document, or observed the brackets in which it was enclosed, I would have seen that Mather says that the paper was not used at the trial. I stated the fact, expressly, and gave Mather's explanation "that the man was overpersuaded by others to be out of the way upon George Burroughs's trial." [_ii., 300, 303_] I found no fault with Mather, in connection with the paper; and am not answerable, at all, for the snarl in which the Reviewer's mind has become entangled, in his eagerness to assail my book. I ask a little further attention to this matter, because it affords an illustration of Mather's singular, but characteristic, method of putting things, often deceiving others, and sometimes, perhaps, himself. I quote the paragraph from his report of the trial of Burroughs, in the _Wonders of the Invisible World_, p. 64: "There were two testimonies, that G. B. with only putting the fore-finger of his right hand into the muzzle of an heavy gun, a fowling-piece of about six or seven foot barrel, did lift up the gun, and hold it out at arms end; a gun which the deponents, though strong men, could not, with both hands, lift up, and hold out, at the butt end, as is usual. Indeed, one of these witnesses was overpersuaded by some persons to be out of the way, upon G. B.'s trial; but he came afterwards, with sorrow for his withdraw; and gave in his testimony; nor were either of these witnesses made use of as evidences in the trial." The Reviewer says that Mather included the above paragraph in "brackets," to apprise the reader that the evidence, to which it relates, was not given at the trial. It is true that the brackets are found in the Boston edition: but they are omitted, in the London edition, of the same year, 1693. If it was thought expedient to prevent misunderstanding, or preserve the appearance of fairness, _here_, the precaution was not provided for the English reader. He was left to receive the impression from the opening words, "there were two testimonies," that they were given at the trial, and to run the luck of having it removed by the latter part of the paragraph. The whole thing is so stated as to mystify and obscure. There were "_two_" testimonies; "_one_" is said not to have been presented; and then, that neither was presented. The reader, not knowing what to make of it, is liable to carry off nothing distinctly, except that, somehow, "there were testimonies" brought to bear against Burroughs; whereas not a syllable of it came before the Court. Never going out of my way to criticise Cotton Mather, nor breaking the thread of my story for that purpose, I did not, in my book, call attention to this paragraph, as to its bearing upon him, but the strange use the Reviewer has made of it against me, compels its examination, in detail. What right had Mather to insert this paragraph, at all, in his report of the _trial_ of George Burroughs? It refers to extra-judicial and gratuitous statements that had nothing to do with the trial, made a month after Burroughs had passed out of Court and out of the world, beyond the reach of all tribunals and all Magistrates. It was not true that "there were two testimonies" to the facts alleged, _at the trial_, which, and which alone, Mather was professing to report. It is not a sufficient justification, that he contradicted, in the last clause, what he said in the first. This was one of Mather's artifices, as a writer, protecting himself from responsibility, while leaving an impression. Mather says there were "_two_" witnesses of the facts alleged in the paragraph. Upon a careful re-examination of the papers on file, there appears to have been only _one_, in support of it. It stands solely on the single disposition of Thomas Greenslitt, of the fifteenth of September, 1692. The deponent mentions two other persons, by name, "and some others that are dead," who witnessed the exploit. But no evidence was given by them; and the muzzle story, according to the papers on file, stands upon the deposition of Greenslitt alone. The paragraph gives the idea that Greenslitt put himself out of the way, at the time of the trial of Burroughs; but there is reason to believe that he lived far down in the eastern country, and subsequently came voluntarily to Salem, from his distant home, to be present at the trial of his mother. The deposition was obtained from him in the period between her condemnation and execution. The motives that may have led the prosecutors to think it important to procure, and the probable inducement that led him to give, the deposition are explained in my book [_ii., 298_]. Greenslitt states that "the gun was of six-foot barrel or thereabouts." Mather reports him as saying "about six or seven foot barrel." The account of the trial of Burroughs, throughout, is charged with extreme prejudice against the Prisoner; and the character of the evidence is exaggerated. One of the witnesses, in the trial of Bridget Bishop, related a variety of mishaps, such as the stumping of the off-wheel of his cart, the breaking of the gears, and a general coming to pieces of the harness and vehicle, on one occasion; and his not being able, on another, to lift a bag of corn as easily as usual; and he ascribed it all to the witchery of the Prisoner. Mather gives his statement, concluding thus: "Many other pranks of this Bishop this deponent was ready to testify." He endorses every thing, however absurd, especially if resting on spectral evidence, as absolute, unquestionable, and demonstrated facts. Nothing was proved against the moral character of Susannah Martin; and nothing was brought to bear upon her, but the most ridiculous and shameful tales of blind superstition and malignant credulity. The extraordinary acumen and force of mind, however, exhibited in her defence, to the discomfiture of the examining Magistrates and Judges, excited their wrath and that of all concerned in the prosecution. Mather finishes the account of her trial in these words: "NOTE. This woman was one of the most impudent, scurrilous, wicked creatures in the world; and she did now, throughout her whole trial, discover herself to be such an one. Yet when she was asked what she had to say for herself, her chief plea was, 'that she had led a most virtuous and holy life.'"--_Wonders, etc._, 126. Well might he, and all who acted in bringing this remarkable woman to her death, have been exasperated against her. She will be remembered, in perpetual history, as having risen superior to them all, in intellectual capacity, and as having utterly refuted the whole system of spectral doctrine, upon which her life and the lives of all the others were sacrificed. Looking towards "the afflicted children," who had sworn that her spectre tortured them, the Magistrate asked, "How comes your appearance to hurt these?" Her answer was, "How do I know? He that appeared in the shape of Samuel, a glorified Saint, may appear in any one's shape." It is truly astonishing that Mather should have selected the name of Elizabeth How, to be held up to abhorrence and classed among the "Malefactors." It shows how utterly blinded and perverted he was by the horrible delusion that "possessed" him. If her piety and virtue were of no avail in leading him to pause in aspersing her memory, by selecting her case to be included in the "black list" of those reported by him in his _Wonders_, one would have thought he would have paid some regard to the testimony of his clerical brethren and to the feelings of her relatives, embracing many most estimable families. She was nearly connected with the venerable Minister of Andover, Francis Dane, and belonged to the family of Jacksons. There was, and is, among the papers, a large body of evidence in her favor, most weighty and decisive, yet Mather makes no allusion to it whatever; although he must have known of it, from outside information as well as the documents before him. Two of the most respectable Ministers in the country, Phillips and Payson of Rowley, many of her neighbors, men and women, and the father of her husband, ninety-four years of age, testified to her eminent Christian graces, and portrayed a picture of female gentleness, loveliness, and purity, not surpassed in the annals of her sex. The two Clergymen exposed and denounced the wickedness of the means that had been employed to bring the stigma of witchcraft upon her good name. Mather not only withholds all this evidence, but speaks with special bitterness of this excellent woman, calling her, over and over again, throughout his whole account, "This How." There is reason to apprehend that much cruelty was practised upon the Prisoners, especially to force them to confess. The statements made by John Proctor, in his letter to the Ministers, are fully entitled to credit, from his unimpeached honesty of character, as well as from the position of the persons addressed. It is not to be imagined, that, at its date, on the twenty-third of July, twelve days before his trial, he would have made, in writing, such declarations to them, had they not been true. He says that brutal violence was used upon his son to induce him to confess. He also states that two of the children of Martha Carrier were "tied neck and heels, till the blood was ready to come out of their noses." The outrages, thus perpetrated, with all the affrighting influences brought to bear, prevailed over Carrier's children. Some of them were used as witnesses against her. A little girl, not eight years old, was made to swear that she was a witch; that her mother, when she was six years old, made her so, baptizing her, and compelling her "to set her hand to a book," and carried her, "in her spirit," to afflict people; that her mother, after she was in prison, came to her in the shape of "a black cat;" and that the cat told her it was her mother. Another of her children testified that he, and still another, a brother, were witches, and had been present, in spectre, at Witch-sacraments, telling who were there, and where they procured their wine. All this the mother had to hear. Thomas Carrier, her husband, had, a year or two before, been involved in a controversy about the boundaries of his lands, in which hard words had passed. The energy of character, so strikingly displayed by his wife, at her Examination, rendered her liable to incur animosities, in the course of a neighborhood feud. The whole force of angry superstition had been arrayed against her; and she became the object of scandal, in the form it then was made to assume, the imputation of being a witch. Her Minister, Mr. Dane, in a strong and bold letter, in defence of his parishioners, many of whom had been accused, says: "There was a suspicion of Goodwife Carrier among some of us, before she was apprehended, I know." He avers that he had lived above forty years in Andover, and had been much conversant with the people, "at their habitations;" that, hearing that some of his people were inclined to indulge in superstitions stories, and give heed to tales of the kind, he preached a Sermon against all such things; and that, since that time, he knew of no person that countenanced practices of the kind; concluding his statement in these words: "So far as I had the understanding of any thing amongst us, do declare, that I believe the reports have been scandalous and unjust, neither will bear the light." Atrocious as were the outrages connected with the prosecutions, in 1692, none, it appears to me, equalled those committed in the case of Martha Carrier. The Magistrates who sat and listened, with wondering awe, to such evidence from a little child against her mother, in the presence of that mother, must have been bereft, by the baleful superstitions of the hour, of all natural sensibility. They countenanced a violation of reason, common sense, and the instincts of humanity, too horrible to be thought of. The unhappy mother felt it in the deep recesses of her strong nature. That trait, in the female and maternal heart, which, when developed, assumes a heroic aspect, was brought out in terrific power. She looked to the Magistrates, after the accusing girls had charged her with having "killed thirteen at Andover," with a stern bravery to which those dignitaries had not been accustomed, and rebuked them: "It is a shameful thing, that you should mind those folks that are out of their wits;" and then, turning to the accusers, said, "You lie, and I am wronged." This woman, like all the rest, met her fate with a demeanor that left no room for malice to utter a word of disparagement, protesting her innocence. Mather witnessed her execution; and in a memorandum to the report, written in the professed character of an historian, having great compassion for "surviving relatives," calls her a "rampant hag." Bringing young children to swear away the life of their mother, was probably felt by the Judges to be too great a shock upon natural sensibilities to be risked again, and they were not produced at the trial; but Mather, notwithstanding, had no reluctance to publish the substance of their testimony, as what they would have sworn to if called upon; and says they were not put upon the stand, because there was evidence "enough" without them. Such were the reports of those of the trials, which had then taken place, selected by Mather to be put into the _Wonders of the Invisible World_, and thus to be "boxed about,"--to adopt the Reviewer's interpretation--to strike down the "Spectre of Sadduceeism," that is, to extirpate and bring to an end all doubts about witchcraft and all attempts to stop the prosecutions. This book was written while the proceedings at Salem were at their height, during the very month in which sixteen persons had been sentenced to death and eight executed, evidently, from its whole tenor, and as the Reviewer admits, for the purpose of silencing objectors and doubters, Sadducees and Witch-advocates, before the meeting of the Court, by adjournment, in the first week of November, to continue--as the Ministers, in their _Advice_, expressed it--their "sedulous and assiduous endeavours to defeat the abominable witchcrafts which have been committed in the country." Little did those concerned, in keeping up the delusion and prolonging the scenes in the Salem Court-house and on Witch-hill, dream that the curtain was so soon to fall upon the horrid tragedy and confound him who combined, in his own person, the functions of Governor, Commander-in-chief, President of the Council, Legislative leader of the General Court, and Chief-justice of the Special Court, and all his aiders and abettors, lay and clerical. XII. "WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD," CONTINUED. PASSAGES FROM IT. "CASES OF CONSCIENCE." INCREASE MATHER. In addition to the reports of the trials of the five "Malefactors," as Mather calls them, the _Wonders of the Invisible World_ contains much matter that helps us to ascertain the real opinions, at the time, of its author, to which justice to him, and to all, requires me to risk attention. The passages, to be quoted, will occupy some room; but they will repay the reading, in the light they shed upon the manner in which such subjects were treated in the most accredited literature, and infused into the public mind, at that day. The style of Cotton Mather, while open to the criticisms generally made, is lively and attractive; and, for its ingenuity of expression and frequent felicity of illustration, often quite refreshing. The work was written under a sense of the necessity of maintaining the position into which the Government of the Province had been led, by so suddenly and rashly organizing the Special Court and putting it upon its bloody work, at Salem; and this could only be done by renewing and fortifying the popular conviction, that such proceedings were necessary, and ought to be vigorously prosecuted, and all Sadduceeism, or opposition to them, put down. It was especially necessary to reconcile, or obscure into indistinctness, certain conflicting theories that had more or less currency. "I do not believe," says Mather, "that the progress of Witchcraft among us, is all the plot which the Devil is managing in the Witchcraft now upon us. It is judged that the Devil raised the storm, whereof we read in the eighth Chapter of Matthew, on purpose to overset the little vessel wherein the disciples of our Lord were embarked with him. And it may be feared that, in the Horrible Tempest which is now upon ourselves, the design of the Devil is to sink that happy Settlement of Government, wherewith Almighty God has graciously inclined their Majesties to favor us."--_Wonders, p. 10._ He then proceeds to compliment Sir William Phips, alluding to his "continually venturing his all," that is, in looking after affairs and fighting Indians in the eastern parts; to applaud Stoughton as "admirably accomplished" for his place; and continues as follows: "Our Councellours are some of our most eminent persons, and as loyal to the Crown, as hearty lovers of their country. Our Constitution also is attended with singular privileges. All which things are by the Devil exceedingly envied unto us. And the Devil will doubtless take this occasion for the raising of such complaints and clamors, as may be of pernicious consequence unto some part of our present Settlement, if he can so far impose. But that, which most of all threatens us, in our present circumstances, is the misunderstandings, and so, the animosities, whereinto the Witchcraft, now raging, has enchanted us. The embroiling, first, of our Spirits, and then, of our affairs." "I am sure, we shall be worse than brutes, if we fly upon one another, at a time when the floods of Belial are upon us." "The Devil has made us like a troubled sea, and the mire and mud begins now also to heave up apace. Even good and wise men suffer themselves to fall into their paroxysms, and the shake which the Devil is now giving us, fetches up the dirt which before lay still at the bottom of our sinful hearts. If we allow the mad dogs of Hell to poison us by biting us, we shall imagine that we see nothing but such things about us, and like such things, fly upon all that we see." After deprecating the animosities and clamors that were threatening to drive himself and his friends from power, he makes a strenuous appeal to persevere in the witchcraft prosecutions. "We are to unite in our endeavours to deliver our distressed neighbors from the horrible annoyances and molestations wherewith a dreadful witchcraft is now persecuting of them. To have an hand in any thing that may stifle or obstruct a regular detection of that witchcraft, is what we may well with an holy fear avoid. Their Majesties good subjects must not every day be torn to pieces by horrid witches, and those bloody felons be left wholly unprosecuted. The witchcraft is a business that will not be shammed, without plunging us into sore plagues, and of long continuance. But then we are to unite in such methods for this deliverance, as may be unquestionably safe, lest the latter end be worse than the beginning. And here, what shall I say? I will venture to say thus much. That we are safe, when we make just as much use of all advice from the invisible world, as God sends it for. It is a safe principle, that when God Almighty permits any spirits, from the unseen regions, to visit us with surprising informations, there is then something to be enquired after; we are then to enquire of one another, what cause there is for such things? The peculiar government of God, over the unbodied Intelligences, is a sufficient foundation for this principle. When there has been a murder committed, an apparition of the slain party accusing of any man, although such apparitions have oftener spoke true than false, is not enough to convict the man as guilty of that murder; but yet it is a sufficient occasion for Magistrates to make a particular enquiry whether such a man have afforded any ground for such an accusation."--_Page 13._ He goes on to apply this principle to the spectres of accused persons, seen by the "afflicted," as constituting sufficient ground to institute proceedings against the persons thus accused. After modifying, apparently, this position, although in language so obscure as to leave his meaning quite uncertain, he says: "I was going to make one venture more; that is, to offer some safe rules, for the finding out of the witches, which are to this day our accursed troublers: but this were a venture too presumptuous and Icarian for me to make. I leave that unto those Excellent and Judicious persons with whom I am not worthy to be numbered: All that I shall do, shall be to lay before my readers, a brief synopsis of what has been written on that subject, by a Triumvirate of as eminent persons as have ever handled it."--_Page 14._ From neither of them, Perkins, Gaule and Bernard, as he cites them, can specific authority be obtained for the admission of spectral testimony, as offered by accusing witnesses, not themselves confessing witches. The third Rule, attributed to Perkins, and the fifth of Bernard, apply to persons confessing the crime of witchcraft, and, after confession, giving evidence affecting another person--the former considering such evidence "not sufficient for condemnation, but a fit presumption to cause a strait examination;" the latter treating it as sufficient to convict a fellow witch, that is, another person also accused of being in "league with the Devil." Bernard specifies, as the kind of evidence, sufficient for conviction, such witnesses might give: "If they can make good the truth of their witness and give sufficient proof of it; as that they have seen them with their Spirits, or that they have received Spirits from them, or that they can tell when they used witchery-tricks to do harm, or that they told them what harm they had done, or that they can show the mark upon them, or that they have been together in those meetings, or such like." Mather remarks, in connection with his synopsis of these Rules: "They are considerable things, which I have thus related." Those I have particularly noticed were enough to let in a large part of the evidence given at the Salem trials--in many respects, the most effective and formidable part--striking the Jury and Court, as well as the people, with an "awe," which rendered no other evidence necessary to overwhelm the mind and secure conviction. The Prisoners themselves were amazed and astounded by it. Mr. Hale, in his account of the proceedings, says: "When George Burroughs was tried, seven or eight of the confessors, severally called, said, they knew the said Burroughs; and saw him at a Witch-meeting at the Village; and heard him exhort the company to pull down the Kingdom of God and set up the Kingdom of the Devil. He denied all, yet said he justified the Judges and Jury in condemning him; because there were so many positive witnesses against him; but said he died by false witnesses." Mr. Hale proceeds to mention this fact: "I seriously spake to one that witnessed (of his exhorting at the Witch-meeting at the Village) saying to her; 'You are one that bring this man to death: if you have charged any thing upon him that is not true, recall it before it be too late, while he is alive.' She answered me, she had nothing to charge herself with, upon that account." Mather omits this circumstance in copying Mr. Hale's narrative. It has always been a mystery, what led the "accusing girls" to cry out, as they afterwards did, against Mr. Hale's wife. Perhaps this expostulation with one of their witnesses, awakened their suspicions. They always struck at every one who appeared to be wavering, or in the least disposed to question the correctness of what was going on. The statement of Mr. Hale shows how effectual and destructive the evidence, authorized by Bernard's book, was; and it also proves how unjust, to the Judges and Magistrates, is the charge made upon them by the Reviewer, that they disregarded and violated the advice of the Ministers. In admitting a species of evidence, wholly spectral, which was fatal, more than any other, to the Prisoners, they followed a rule laid down by the very authors whose "directions" the Ministers, in their _Advice_, written by "Mr. Mather the younger," enjoined upon them to follow. It is noticeable, by the way, that, in that document, they left Gaule out of the "triumvirate;" Mather finding nothing in his book to justify the admission of spectral testimony. He urges the force of the evidence, from confessions, with all possible earnestness. "One would think all the rules of understanding human affairs are at an end, if after so many most voluntary harmonious confessions, made by intelligent persons, of all ages, in sundry towns, at several times, we must not believe the main strokes, wherein those confessions all agree."--_Page 8._ He continues to press the point thus: "If the Devils now can strike the minds of men with any poisons of so fine a composition and operation, that scores of innocent people shall unite, in confessions of a crime, which we see actually committed, it is a thing prodigious, beyond the wonders of the former ages; and it threatens no less than a sort of a dissolution upon the world. Now, by these confessions, it is agreed, that the Devil has made a dreadful knot of witches in the country, and by the help of witches has dreadfully increased that knot; that these witches have driven a trade of commissioning their confederate spirits, to do all sorts of mischiefs to the neighbors, whereupon there have ensued such mischievous consequences upon the bodies and estates of the neighborhood, as could not otherwise be accounted for; yea, that at prodigious Witch-meetings the wretches have proceeded so far as to concert and consult the methods of rooting out the Christian religion from this country, and setting up, instead of it, perhaps a more gross Diabolism, than ever the world saw before. And yet it will be a thing little short of miracle, if, in so spread a business as this, the Devil should not get in some of his juggles, to confound the discovery of all the rest." In the last sentence of the foregoing passage, we see an idea, which Mather expressed in several instances. It amounts to this. Suppose the Devil does "sometimes" make use of the spectre of an innocent person--he does it for the purpose of destroying our faith in that kind of evidence, and leading us to throw it all out, thereby "confounding the discovery" of those cases in which, as ordinarily, he makes use of the spectres of his guilty confederates, and, in effect, sheltering "all the rest," that is, the whole body of those who are the willing and covenanted subjects of his diabolical kingdom, from detection. He says: "The witches have not only intimated, but some of them acknowledged, that they have plotted the representations of innocent persons to cover and shelter themselves in their witchcrafts." He further suggests--for no other purpose, it would seem, than to reconcile us to the use of such evidence, even though, it may, in "rare and extraordinary" instances, bear against innocent persons, scarcely, however, to be apprehended, "when matters come before civil judicature"--that it may be the divine will, that, occasionally, an innocent person _may be cut off_: "Who of us can exactly state how far our God may, for our chastisement, permit the Devil to proceed in such an abuse?" He then alludes to the meeting of Ministers, under his father's auspices, at Cambridge, on the first of August; quotes with approval, the result of his "Discourse," then held; and immediately proceeds: "It is rare and extraordinary, for an honest Naboth to have his life itself sworn away by two children of Belial, and yet no infringement hereby made on the Rectoral Righteousness of our eternal Sovereign, whose judgments are a great deep, and who gives none account of his matters."--_Page 9._ The amount of all this is, that it is so rare and extraordinary for the Devil to assume the spectral shape of an innocent person, that it is best, "when," as his expression is, in another place, "the public safety makes an exigency," to receive and act upon such evidence, even if it should lead to the conviction of an innocent person--a thing so seldom liable to occur, and, indeed, barely possible. The procedure would be but carrying out the divine "permission," and a fulfilment of "the Rectoral Righteousness" of Him, whose councils are a great deep, not to be accounted for to, or by, us. In summing up what the witches had been doing at Salem Village, during the preceding Summer, Mather says: "The Devil, exhibiting himself ordinarily as a small black man, has decoyed a fearful knot of proud, froward, ignorant, envious and malicious creatures to list themselves in his horrid service by entering their names in a book, by him tendered unto them." "That they, each of them, have, their spectres or Devils, commissioned by them, and representing them, to be the engines of their malice." He enumerates, as facts, all the statements of the "afflicted" witnesses and confessing witches, as to the horrible and monstrous things perpetrated by the spectres of the accused parties; and he applauds the Court, testifying to the successful and beneficial issue of its proceedings. "Our honorable Judges have used, as Judges have heretofore done, the spectral evidence, to introduce their further enquiries into the lives of the persons accused; and they have, thereupon, by the wonderful Providence of God, been so strengthened with other evidences, that some of the Witch-gang have been fairly executed."--_Pages 41, 43._ The language of Cotton Mather, as applied to those who had suffered, as witches, "a fearful knot of proud, froward, ignorant, envious and malicious creatures--a Witch-gang,"--is rather hard, as coming from a Minister who, as the Reviewer asserts, had officiated in their death scenes, witnessed their devout and Christian expressions and deportment, and been their comforter, consoler, counsellor and friend. The dissatisfaction that pervaded the public mind, about the time of the last executions at Salem, which Phips describes, was so serious, that both the Mathers were called in to allay it. The father also, at the request of the Ministers, wrote a book, entitled, _Cases of Conscience, concerning Evil Spirits, personating men, Witchcrafts, &c._, the general drift of which is against spectral evidence. He says: "Spectres are Devils, in the shape of persons, either living or dead." Speaking of bewitched persons, he says: "What they affirm, concerning others, is not to be taken for evidence. Whence had they this supernatural sight? It must needs be either from Heaven or from Hell. If from Heaven (as Elisha's servant and Balaam's ass could discern Angels) let their testimony be received. But if they had this knowledge from Hell, though there may possibly be truth in what they affirm, they are not legal witnesses: for the Law of God allows of no revelation from any other Spirit but himself. _Isa._, viii., 19. It is a sin against God, to make use of the Devil's help to know that which cannot be otherwise known; and I testify against it, as a great transgression, which may justly provoke the Holy One of Israel, to let loose Devils on the whole land. _Luke_, iv., 38." After referring to a couple of writers on the subject, the very next sentence is this: "Although the Devil's accusations may be so far regarded as to cause an enquiry into the truth of things, _Job_, i., 11, 12, and ii., 5, 6; yet not so as to be an evidence or ground of conviction." It appears therefore, that Increase Mather, while writing with much force and apparent vehemence against spectral evidence, still in reality countenanced its introduction, as a basis of "enquiry into the truth of things," preliminary to other evidence. This was, after all, to use the form of thought of these writers, letting the Devil into the case; and that was enough, from the nature of things, in the then state of wild superstition and the blind delusions of the popular mind, to give to spectral evidence the controlling sway it had in the Salem trials, and would necessarily have, every where, when introduced at all. In a Postscript to _Cases of Conscience_, Increase Mather says that he hears that "some have taken up a notion," that there was something contradictory between his views and those of his son, set forth in the _Wonders of the Invisible World_. "Tis strange that such imaginations should enter into the minds of men." He goes on to say he had read and approved of his son's book, before it was printed; and falls back, as both of them always did, when pressed, upon the _Advice_ of the Ministers, of the fifteenth of June, in which, he says, they concurred. There can be no manner of doubt that the "strange" opinion did prevail, at the time, and has ever since, that the father and son did entertain very different sentiments about the Salem proceedings. The precise form of that difference is not easily ascertained. The feelings, so natural and proper, on both sides, belonging to the relation they sustained to each other, led them to preserve an appearance of harmony, especially in whatever was committed to the press. Then, again, the views they each entertained were in themselves so inconsistent, that it was not difficult to persuade themselves that they were substantially similar. There was much in the father, for the son to revere: there was much in the son, for the father to admire. Besides, the habitual style in which they and the Ministers of that day indulged, of saying and unsaying, on the same page--putting a proposition and then linking to it a countervailing one--covered their tracks to each other and to themselves. This is their apology; and none of them needs it more than Cotton Mather. He was singularly blind to logical sequence. With wonderful power over language, he often seems not to appreciate the import of what he is saying; and to this defect, it is agreeable to think, much, if not all, that has the aspect of a want of fairness and even truthfulness, in his writings may be attributed. As associate Ministers of the same congregation, it was desirable for the Mathers to avoid being drawn into a conflicting attitude, on any matter of importance. Drake, however, in his _History of Boston_, (_p. 545_) says that there was supposed, at the formation of the New North Church, in that place, in 1712, to have been a jealousy between them. There were, indeed, many points of dissimilarity, as well as of similarity, in their culture, experience, manners, and ways; and men conversant with them, at the time, may have noticed a difference in their judgments and expressions, relating to the witchcraft affair, of which no knowledge has come to us, except the fact, that it was so understood at the time. Cotton Mather brought all his ability to bear in preparing the _Wonders of the Invisible World_. It is marked throughout by his peculiar genius, and constructed with great ingenuity and elaboration; but it was "water spilt on the ground." So far as the end, for which it was designed, is regarded, it died before it saw the light. XIII. THE COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER BROUGHT TO A SUDDEN END. SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. When Sir William Phips went to the eastward, it was expected that his absence would be prolonged to the twelfth of October. We cannot tell exactly when he returned; probably some days before the twelfth. Writing on the fourteenth, he says, that before any application was made to him for the purpose, he had put a stop to the proceedings of the Court. He probably signified, informally, to the Judges, that they must not meet on the day to which they had adjourned. Brattle, writing on the eighth, had not heard any thing of the kind. But the Rev. Samuel Torrey of Weymouth, who was in full sympathy with the prosecutors, had heard of it on the seventh, as appears by this entry in Sewall's Diary: "OCT. 7^th, 1692. Mr. Torrey seems to be of opinion, that the Court of Oyer and Terminer should go on, regulating any thing that may have been amiss, when certainly found to be so." Sewall and Stoughton were among the principal friends of Torrey; and he, probably, had learned from them, Phips's avowed purpose to stop the proceedings of the Court, in the witchcraft matter. The Court, however, was allowed to sit, in other cases, as it held a trial in Boston, on the tenth, in a capital case of the ordinary kind. The purpose of the Governor gradually became known. Danforth, in a conversation with Sewall, at Cambridge, on the fifteenth, expressed the opinion that the witchcraft trials ought not to proceed any further. It is not unlikely that Phips, while at the eastward, had received some communication that hastened his return. He describes the condition of things, as he found it. We know that the lives of twenty people had been taken away, one of them a Minister of the Gospel. Two Ministers had been accused, one of them the Pastor of the Old South Church; the name of the other is not known. A hundred were in prison; about two hundred more were under accusation, including some men of great estates in Boston, the mother-in-law of one of the Judges, Corwin, and a member of the family of Increase Mather, although, as he says, in no way related to him. A Magistrate, who was a member of the House of Assembly, had fled for his life; and Phips's trusted naval commander, a man of high standing in the Church and in society, as well as in the service, after having been committed to Jail, had escaped to parts unknown. More than all, the Governor's wife had been cried out upon. We can easily imagine his state of mind. Sir William Phips was noted for the sudden violence of his temper. Mather says that he sometimes "showed choler enough." Hutchinson says that "he was of a benevolent, friendly disposition; at the same time quick and passionate;" and, in illustration of the latter qualities, he relates that he got into a fisticuff fight with the Collector of the Port, on the wharf, handling him severely; and that, having high words, in the street, with a Captain of the Royal Navy, "the Governor made use of his cane and broke Short's head." When his Lady told her story to him, and pictured the whole scene of the "strange ferment" in the domestic and social circles of Boston and throughout the country, it was well for the Chief-justice, the Judges, and perhaps his own Ministers, that they were not within the reach of those "blows," with which, as Mather informs us, in the _Life of Phips_, the rough sailor was wont, when the gusts of passion were prevailing, to "chastise incivilities," without reference to time or place, rank or station. But, as was his wont, the storm of wrath soon subsided; his purpose, however, under the circumstances, as brave as it was wise and just, was, as the result showed, unalterable. He communicated to the Judges, personally, that they must sit no more, at Salem or elsewhere, to try cases of witchcraft; and that no more arrests must be made, on that charge. Mather's book, all ready as it was for the press, thus became labor thrown away. It was not only rendered useless for the purpose designed, but a most serious difficulty obstructed its publication. Phips forbade the "printing of any discourses, one way or another;" and the _Wonders_ had incorporated in it some Sermons, impregnated, through and through, with combustible matter, in Phips's view, likely to kindle an inextinguishable flame. All that could be done was to keep still, in the hope that he would become more malleable. In the meanwhile, public business called him away, perhaps to Rhode Island or Connecticut, from the eighteenth to the twenty-seventh of October. In his absence, whether in consequence of movements he had put in train, or solely from what had become known of his views, the circumstance occurred which is thus related in Sewall's Diary--the Legislature was then in Session: "OCT. 26, 1692. A Bill is sent in about calling a Fast and Convocation of Ministers, that may be led in the right way, as to the Witchcrafts. The season, and manner of doing it, is such, that the Court of Oyer and Terminer count themselves thereby dismissed. 29 nos & 33 yeas to the Bill. Capt. Bradstreet, and Lieut. True, Wm. Hutchins, and several other interested persons, in the affirmative." The course of Nathaniel Saltonstall, of Haverhill, and the action in the Legislature of the persons here named, entitle the Merrimac towns of Essex-county to the credit of having made the first public and effectual resistance to the fanaticism and persecutions of 1692. The passage of this Bill, in the House of Representatives, shows how the public mind had been changed, since the June Session. Dudley Bradstreet was a Magistrate and member from Andover, son of the old Governor, and, with his wife, had found safety from prosecution by flight; Henry True, a member from Salisbury, was son-in-law of Mary Bradbury, who had been condemned to death; Samuel Hutchins, (inadvertently called "Wm.," by Sewall) was a member from Haverhill, and connected by marriage with a family, three of whom were tried for their lives. Sewall says there were "several other" members of the House, interested in like manner. This shows into what high circles the accusers had struck. It appears, by the same Diary, that on the twenty-seventh, Cotton Mather preached the Thursday Lecture, from _James_, i., 4. The day of trial was then upon him and his fellow-actors; and patience was inculcated as the duty of the hour. The Diary relates that at a meeting of the Council, on the twenty-eighth, in the afternoon, Sewall, "desired to have the advice of the Governor and Council, as to the sitting of the Court of Oyer and Terminer, next week; said, should move it no more; great silence prevailed, as if should say, Do not go." The entry does not state whether Phips was present; as, however, the time fixed for his recent brief absence had expired, probably he was in his seat. The following mishap, described by Sewall, as occurring that day, perhaps detained the Deputy-governor: "OCT. 28. Lt. Gov^r, coming over the causey, is, by reason of the high tide, so wet, that is fain to go to bed, till sends for dry clothes to Dorchester." The "great silence" was significant of the embarrassment in which they were placed, and their awe of the "choler" of the Governor. The Diary gives the following account of the Session the next day, at which, (as Sewall informs us,) the Lieutenant-governor was not present: "OCT. 29. Mr. Russel asked, whether the Court of Oyer and Terminer should sit, expressing some fear of inconvenience by its fall. Governor said, it must fall." Thus died the Court of Oyer and Terminer. Its friends cherished, to the last, the hope that Sir William might be placated, and possibly again brought under control; but it vanished, when the emphatic and resolute words, reported by Sewall, were uttered. The firmness and force of character of the Governor are worthy of all praise. Indeed, the illiterate and impulsive sailor has placed himself, in history, far in front of all the honored Judges and learned Divines, of his day. Not one of them penetrated the whole matter as he did, when his attention was fully turned to it, and his feelings enlisted, to decide, courageously and righteously, the question before him. He saw that no life was safe while the evidence of the "afflicted persons" was received, "either to the committing or trying" of any persons. He thus broke through the meshes which had bound Judges and Ministers, the writers of books and the makers of laws; and swept the whole fabric of "spectral testimony" away, whether as matter of "enquiry" and "presumption," or of "conviction." The ship-carpenter of the Kennebec laid the axe to the root of the tree. The following extract from a letter of Sir William Phips, just put into my hands, and for which I am indebted to Mr. Goodell, substantiates the conclusions to which I have been led. "_Governor Phips to the Lords of the Committee of Trade and Plantations, 3 April, 1693._ "MAY IT PLEASE YOUR LORDSHIPS: "I have intreated M^r Blathwayte to lay before your Lordships several letters, wherein I have given a particular account of my stopping a supposed witchcraft, which had proved fatall to many of their Maj^ties good subjects, had there not been a speedy end putt thereto; for a stop putt to the proceedings against such as were accused, hath caused the thing itself to cease." This shows that, addressing officially his Home Government, he assumed the responsibility of having "stopped and put a speedy end to the proceedings;" that he had no great faith in the doctrines then received touching the reality of witchcraft; and that he was fully convinced that, if he had allowed the trials to go on, and the inflammation of the public mind to be kept up by "discourses," the bloody tragedy would have been prolonged, and "proved fatal to many good" people. There are two men--neither of them belonging to the class of scholars or Divines; both of them guided by common sense, good feeling, and a courageous and resolute spirit--who stand alone, in the scenes of the witchcraft delusions. NATHANIEL SALTONSTALL, who left the Council and the Court, the day the Ministers' _Advice_, to go on with the prosecutions, was received, and never appeared again until that _Advice_ was abandoned and repudiated; and Sir WILLIAM PHIPS, who stamped it out beneath his feet. But how with Cotton Mather's Book, the _Wonders of the Invisible World_? On the eleventh of October, Stoughton and Sewall signed a paper, printed in the book, [_p. 88_] endorsing its contents, especially as to "matters of fact and evidence" and the "methods of conviction used in the proceedings of the Court at Salem." The certificate repeats the form of words, so often used in connection with the book, that it was written "at the direction of His Excellency the Governor," without, as in all cases, specifying who, whether Phips or Stoughton, was the Governor referred to. As all the Judges were near at hand, and as the certificate related to the proceedings before them, it is quite observable that only the two mentioned signed it. As they were present, in the private conference, with Cotton Mather, at the house of one of them, on the twenty-second of September, when its preparation for publication was finally arranged, they could not well avoid signing it. The times were critical; and the rest of the Judges, knowing the Governor's feelings, thought best not to appear. Of the three other persons, at that conference, Hathorne, it is true, was a Judge of that Court, but it is doubtful whether he often, or ever, took his seat as such; besides, he was too experienced and cautious a public man, unnecessarily to put his hand to such a paper, when it was known, as it was probably to him, that Sir William Phips had forbidden publications of the kind. There is another curious document, in the _Wonders_--a letter from Stoughton to Mather, highly applauding the book, in which he acknowledges his particular obligations to him for writing it, as "more nearly and highly concerned" than others, considering his place in the Court, expressing in detail his sense of the great value of the work, "at this juncture of time," and concluding thus: "I do therefore make it my particular and earnest Request unto you, that, as soon as may be, you will commit the same unto the press, accordingly." It is signed, without any official title of distinction, simply "WILLIAM STOUGHTON," and is _without date_. It is singular, if Phips was the person who requested it to be written and was the "Excellency" who authorized its publication, that it was left to William Stoughton to "request" its being put to press. The foregoing examination of dates and facts seems, almost, to compel the conclusion, to be drawn also from his letter, that Sir William Phips really had nothing whatever to do with procuring the preparation or sanctioning the publication of the _Wonders of the Invisible World_. The same is true as to the request to the Ministers, for their _Advice_, dated the fifteenth of June. It was "laid before the Judges;" and was, undoubtedly, a response to an application from them. Having, very improperly, it must be confessed, given the whole matter of the trials over to Stoughton, and being engrossed in other affairs, it is quite likely that he knew but little of what had been going on, until his return from the eastward, in October. And his frequent and long absences, leaving Stoughton, so much of the time, with all the functions and titles of Governor devolved upon him, led to speaking of the latter as "His Excellency." When bearing this title and acting as Governor, for the time being, the Chief-justice, with the side Judges--all of them members of the Council, and in number meeting the requirement in the Charter for a quorum, seven--may have been considered, as substantially, "The Governor and Council." Thinking it more than probable that, in this way, great wrong has been done to the memory of an honest and noble-hearted man, I have endeavored to set things in their true light. The perplexities, party entanglements, personal collisions, and engrossing cares that absorbed the attention of Sir William Phips, during the brief remainder of his life, and the little interest he felt in such things, prevented his noticing the false position in which he had been placed by the undistinguishing use of titular phrases. Judge Sewall's Diary contains an entry that, also, sheds light upon the position of the Mathers. It will be borne in mind, that Elisha Cook was the colleague of Increase Mather, as Colonial Agents in London. Cook refused assent to the new Charter, and became the leader of the anti-Mather party. He was considered an opponent of the witchcraft prosecutions, although out of the country at the time. "TUESDAY, NOV. 15, 1692. M^r Cook keeps a Day of Thanksgiving for his safe arrival." * * * [_Many mentioned as there, among them Mr. Willard._] "Mr. Allen preached from Jacob's going to Bethel, * * * Mr. Mather not there, nor Mr. Cotton Mather. The good Lord unite us in his fear, and remove our animosities." The manner in which Sewall distinguished the two Mathers confirms the views presented on pages 37, 38. It may be remarked, that, up to this time, Sewall seems to have been in full sympathy with Stoughton and Mather. He was, however, beginning to indulge in conversations that indicate a desire to feel the ground he was treading. After a while, he became thoroughly convinced of his error; and there are scattered, in the margins of his Diary, expressions of much sensibility at the extent to which he had been misled. Over against an entry, giving an account of his presence at an Examination before Magistrates, of whom he was one, on the eleventh of April, 1692, at Salem, is the interjection, thrice repeated, "_Vae, Vae, Vae_." At the opening of the year 1692, he inserted, at a subsequent period, this passage: "_Attonitus tamen est, ingens discrimine parvo committi potuisse Nefas._"[4] FOOTNOTES: [4] For the privilege of inspecting and using Judge Sewall's Diary I am indebted to the kindness of the Massachusetts Historical Society: and I would also express my thanks, for similar favors and civilities, to the officers in charge of the Records and Archives in the Massachusetts State House, the Librarian of Harvard University, the Essex Institute, and many individuals, not mentioned in the text, especially those devoted collectors and lovers of our old New England literature, Samuel G. Drake and John K. Wiggin. XIV. COTTON MATHER'S WRITINGS SUBSEQUENT TO THE WITCHCRAFT PROSECUTIONS. I propose, now, to enquire into the position Cotton Mather occupied, and the views he expressed, touching the matter, after the witchcraft prosecutions had ceased and the delusion been dispelled from the minds of other men. During the Winter of 1692 and 1693, between one and two hundred prisoners, including confessing witches, remained in Jail, at Salem, Ipswich, and other places. A considerable number were in the Boston Jail. It seems, from the letter to Secretary Allyn of Connecticut, that, during that time, the Mathers were in communication with them, and receiving from them the names of persons whose spectres, they declared, they had seen and suffered from, as employed in the Devil's work. After all that had happened, and the order of Sir William Phips, forbidding attempts to renew the excitement, it is wonderful that the Mathers should continue such practices. In the latter part of the Summer of 1693, they were both concerned in the affair of Margaret Rule; and Cotton Mather prepared, and put into circulation, an elaborate account of it, some extracts from which have been presented, and which will be further noticed, in another connection. His next work, in the order of time, which I shall consider, is his _Life of Sir William Phips_, printed in London, in 1697, and afterwards included in the _Magnalia_, also published in London, a few years afterwards, constituting the last part of the Second Book. _The Life of Phips_ is, perhaps, the most elaborate and finished of all Mather's productions; and "adorned," as his uncle Nathaniel Mather says, in a commendatory note, "with a very grateful variety of learning." In it, Sir William, who had died, at London, three years before, is painted in glowing colors, as one of the greatest of conquerors and rulers, "dropped, as it were, from the Machine of Heaven;" "for his exterior, he was one tall, beyond the common lot of men; and thick, as well as tall, and strong as well as thick. He was, in all respects, exceedingly robust, and able to conquer such difficulties of diet and of travel, as would have killed most men alive;" "he was well set, and he was therewithall of a very comely, though a very manly, countenance." He is described as of "a most incomparable generosity," "of a forgiving spirit." His faults are tenderly touched; "upon certain affronts, he has made sudden returns, that have shewed choler enough; and he has, by blow, as well as by word, chastised incivilities." It is remarkable that Mather should have laid himself out, to such an extent of preparation and to such heights of eulogy, as this work exhibits. It is dedicated to the Earl of Bellamont, just about to come over, as Phips's successor. Mather held in his hand a talisman of favor, influence, and power. In the Elegy which concludes the _Life_, are lines like these: "Phips, our great friend, our wonder, and our glory, The terror of our foes, the world's rare story, Or but name Phips, more needs not be expressed, Both Englands, and next ages, tell the rest." The writer of this _Life_ had conferred the gift of an immortal name upon one Governor of New England, and might upon another. But with all this panegyric, he does not seem to have been careful to be just to the memory of his hero. The reader is requested, at this point, to turn back to pages 23, 24, of this article, and examine the paragraph, quoted from the _Life of Phips_, introducing the return of _Advice_ from the Ministers. I have shown, in that connection, how deceptive the expression "arriving to his Government" is. In reporting the _Advice_ of the Ministers, in the _Life of Phips_, Mather omits the paragraphs I have placed within brackets [_p. 21, 22_]--the _first_, _second_ and _eighth_. The omission of these paragraphs renders the document, as given by Mather, an absolute misrepresentation of the transaction, and places Phips in the attitude of having disregarded the advice of the Ministers, in suffering the trials to proceed as they did; throwing upon his memory a load of infamy, outweighing all the florid and extravagant eulogies showered upon him, in the _Life_: verifying and fulfilling the apprehensions he expressed in his letter of the fourteenth of October, 1692: "I know my enemies are seeking to turn it all upon me." The Reviewer says that "Mr. Mather did not profess to quote the whole _Advice_, but simply made extracts from it." He professed to give what the Ministers "declared." I submit to every honorable mind, whether what Mather printed, omitting the _first_, _second_ and _eighth_ Sections, was a fair statement of what the Ministers "declared." The paragraphs he selected, appear, on their face, to urge caution and even delay, in the proceedings. They leave this impression on the general reader, and have been so regarded from that day to this. The artifice, by which the responsibility for what followed was shifted, from the Ministers, upon Phips and the Court, has, in a great measure, succeeded. I trust that I have shown that the clauses and words that seem to indicate caution, had very little force, in that direction; but that, when the disguising veil of an artful phraseology is removed, they give substantial countenance to the proceedings of the Court, throughout. I desire, at this point, to ask the further attention of the reader to Mather's manner of referring to the _Advice of the Ministers_. In his _Wonders_, he quotes the _eighth_ and _second_ Articles of it (_Pages 12, 55_), in one instance, ascribing the _Advice_ to "Reverend persons," "men of God," "gracious men," and, in the other, characterizing it as "gracious words." He also, in the same work, quotes the _sixth_ Article, _omitting the words I have placed in brackets, without any indication of an omission_. Writing, in 1692, when the delusion was at its height, and for the purpose of keeping the public mind up to the work of the prosecutions, he gloried chiefly in the _first_, _second_, and _eighth_ Articles, and brought them alone forward, in full. The others he passed over, with the exception of the _sixth_, from which he struck out the central sentence--that having the appearance of endorsing the views of those opposed to spectral testimony. But, in 1697, when the _Life of Phips_ was written, circumstances had changed. It was apparent, then, to all, even those most unwilling to realize the fact, that the whole transaction of the witchcraft prosecutions in Salem was doomed to perpetual condemnation; and it became expedient to drop out of sight, forever, if possible, the _second_ and _eighth_ articles, and reproduce the _sixth_, _entire_. Considering the unfair view of the import of the _Advice_, in the _Life of Phips_, and embodied in the _Magnalia_--a work, which, with all its defects, inaccuracies, and absurdities, is sure of occupying a conspicuous place in our Colonial literature--I said: "unfortunately for the reputation of Cotton Mather, Hutchinson has preserved the _Address of the Ministers_, entire." Regarding the document published by Mather in the light of a historical imposture, I expressed satisfaction, that its exposure was provided in a work, sure of circulation and preservation, equally, to say the least, with the _Life of Phips_ or the _Magnalia_. The Reviewer, availing himself of the opportunity, hereupon pronounces me ignorant of the fact that the "_Advice_, entire," was published by Increase Mather at the end of his _Cases of Conscience_; and, in his usual style--not, I think, usual, in the _North American Review_--speaks thus--it is a specimen of what is strown through the article: "Mr. Upham should have been familiar enough with the original sources of information on the subject, to have found this _Advice_ in print, seventy-four years before Hutchinson's _History_ appeared." Of course, neither I, nor any one else, can be imagined to suppose that Hutchinson invented the document. It was pre-existent, and at his hand. It was not to the purpose to say where he found it. I wonder this Reviewer did not tell the public, that I had _never seen_, _read_, or _heard of_ Calef; for, to adopt his habit of reasoning, if I had been acquainted with that writer, my ignorance would have been enlightened, as Calef would have informed me that "the whole of the Minister's advice and answer is printed in _Cases of Conscience_, the last pages." That only which finds a place in works worthy to endure, and of standard value, is sure of perpetual preservation. Hutchinson's _History of Massachusetts_ is a work of this description. Whatever is committed to its custody will stand the test of time. This cannot be expected of that class of tracts or books to which _Cases of Conscience_ belongs, copies of which can hardly be found, and not likely to justify a separate re-publication. It has, indeed, not many years ago, been reprinted in England, in a series of _Old Authors_, tacked on to the _Wonders of the Invisible World_. But few copies have reached this country; and only persons of peculiar, it may almost be said, eccentric, tastes, would care to procure it. It will be impossible to awaken an interest in the general reading public for such works. They are forbidding in their matter, unintelligible in their style, obscure in their import and drift, and pervaded by superstitions and absurdities that have happily passed away, never, it is to be hoped, again to enter the realm of theology, philosophy, or popular belief; and will perish by the hand of time, and sink into oblivion. If this present discussion had not arisen, and the "_Advice_, entire," had not been given by Hutchinson, the _suppressio veri_, perpetrated by Cotton Mather, would, perhaps, have become permanent history. In reference to the _Advice of the Ministers_, the Reviewer, in one part of his article, seems to complain thus: "Mr. Upham has never seen fit to print this paper;" in other parts, he assails me from the opposite direction, and in a manner too serious, in the character of the assault, to be passed over. In my book, (_ii., 267_) I thus speak of the _Advice of the Ministers_, referring to it, in a note to p. 367, in similar terms: "The response of the reverend gentlemen, while urging in general terms the importance of caution and circumspection in the methods of examination, decidedly and earnestly recommended that the proceedings should be vigorously carried on." It is a summary, in general and brief terms, _in my own language_, of the _import_ of the whole document, covering both sets of its articles. Hutchinson condenses it in similar terms, as do Calef and Douglas. I repeat, and beg it to be marked, that I do _not quote it_, in _whole_ or _in part_, but only give its import in my own words. I claim the judgment of the reader, whether I do not give the import of the articles Mather printed in the _Life of Phips_--those pretending to urge caution--as fairly as of the articles he omitted, applauding the Court, and encouraging it to go on. Now, this writer in the _North American Review_ represents to the readers of that journal and to the public, that I have _quoted_ the _Advice of the Ministers_, and, in variety of phrase, rings the charge of unfair and false _quotation_, against me. He uses this language: "If it were such a heinous crime for Cotton Mather, in writing the _Life of Sir William Phips_, to omit three Sections, how will Mr. Upham vindicate his own omissions, when, writing the history of these very transactions and bringing the gravest charges against the characters of the persons concerned, he leaves out seven Sections?" I _quoted_ no Section, and made no _omissions_; and it is therefore utterly unjustifiable to say that I _left out_ any thing. I gave the substance of the Sections Cotton Mather left out, in language nearly identical with that used by Hutchinson and all others. In the same way, I gave the substance of the Sections Mather published, in the very sense he always claimed for them. What I said did not bear the form, nor profess the character, of a _quotation_. In the _Wonders of the Invisible World_, written in 1692, when the prosecutions were in full blast and Mather was glorying in them, and for the purpose of prolonging them, the only Section he saw fit, in a particular connection, to quote, was the SECOND. He prefaced it thus: "They were some of the Gracious Words inserted in the _Advice_, which many of the neighboring Ministers did this Summer humbly lay before our Honorable Judges." Let it be noted, by the way, that when he thus praised the document, its authorship had not been avowed. Let it further be noted, that it is here let slip that the paper was _laid before the Judges_, not Phips; showing that it was a response to _them_, not him. Let it be still further noted, that the Section which he thus cited, in 1692, is one of those which, when the tide had turned, he left out, in 1697. The Reviewer, referring to Mather's quotation of the second Section of the _Advice_, in the _Wonders_, says: "he printed it in full, which Mr. Upham has never done;" and following out the strange misrepresentation, he says: "Mr. Upham does not print any part of the eighth Section, as the Ministers adopted it. He suppresses the essential portions, changes words, and, by interpolation, states that the Ministers 'decidedly,' 'earnestly,' and 'vehemently,' recommended that the 'proceedings' should be vigorously carried on. He who quotes in this manner needs other evidence than that produced by Mr. Upham to entitle him to impeach Mr. Mather's integrity." In another place he says, pursuing the charge of quoting falsely, as to my using the word "proceedings," "the word is not to be found in the _Advice_." The eighth Section recommends "the speedy and vigorous prosecutions of such as have rendered themselves obnoxious." In a brief reference to the subject, I use the words "speedily and vigorously," marking them as quoted, although their form was changed by the structure of the sentence of my own in which they appear. Beyond this, I have made no _quotations_, in my book, of the _Advice_--not a Section, nor sentence, nor clause, nor line, is a quotation, nor pretends to be. Without characterising what the Reviewer has done, in charging me with _suppression of essential portions_, _interpolation_, and not _printing_ in full, or correctly, what the Ministers or any body else said, my duty is discharged, by showing that there is no truth in the charge--no foundation or apology for it. The last of the works of Cotton Mather I shall examine, in this scrutiny of his retrospective opinions and position, relating to the witchcraft prosecutions, is the _Magnalia_, printed at London, in 1702. He had become wise enough, at that time, not to commit himself more than he could help. The Rev. John Hale, of Beverly, died in May, 1700. He had taken an active part in the proceedings at Salem, in 1692, having, as he says, from his youth, been "trained up in the knowledge and belief of most of the principles" upon which the prosecutions were conducted, and had held them "with a kind of implicit faith." Towards the close of the Trials, his view underwent a change; and, after the lapse of five years, he prepared a treatise on the subject. It is a candid, able, learned, and every-way commendable performance, adhering to the general belief in witchcraft, but pointing out the errors in the methods of procedure in the Trials at Salem, showing that the principles there acted upon were fallacious. The book was not printed until 1702. Cotton Mather, having access to Mr. Hale's manuscript, professedly made up from it his account of the witchcraft transactions of 1692, inserted in the _Magnalia_, Book VI., Page 79. He adopts the narrative part of the work, substantially, avoiding much discussion of the topics upon which Mr. Hale had laid himself out. He cites, indeed, some passages from the argumentative part, containing marvellous statements, but does not mention that Mr. Hale labored, throughout, to show that those and other like matters, which had been introduced at the Trials, as proofs of spectral agency, were easily resolvable into the visions and vagaries of a "deluded imagination," "a phantasy in the brain," "phantasma before the eyes." Mr. Hale limits the definition of a witch to the following: "Who is to be esteemed a capital witch among Christians? viz.: Those that being brought up under the means of the knowledge of the true God, yet, being in their right mind or free use of their reason, do knowingly and wittingly depart from the true God, so as to devote themselves unto, and seek for their help from, another God, or the Devil, as did the Devil's Priests and Prophets of old, that were magicians."--_Page 127._ As he had refuted, and utterly discarded, the whole system of evidence connected with spectres of the living or ghosts of the dead, the above definition rescued all but openly profane, abandoned, and God-defying people from being prosecuted for witchcraft. Mather transcribes, as a quotation, what seems to be the foregoing definition, but puts it thus: "A person that, having the free use of reason, doth knowingly and willingly seek and obtain of the Devil, or of any other God, besides the true God Jehovah, an ability to do or know strange things, or things which he cannot by his own humane abilities arrive unto. This person is a witch." The latter part of the definition thus transcribed, has no justification in Hale's language, but is in conflict with the positions in his book. Mather says, "the author spends whole Chapters to prove that there yet is a witch." He omits to state, that he spends twice as many Chapters to prove that the evidence in the Salem cases was not sufficient for that purpose. Upon the whole it can hardly be considered a fair transcript of Mr. Hale's account. He dismisses the subject, once for all, in a curt and almost disrespectful style--"But thus much for this manuscript." Whoever examines the manner in which he, in this way, gets rid of the subject, in the _Magnalia_, must be convinced, I think, that he felt no satisfaction in Mr. Hale's book, nor in the state of things that made it necessary for him to give the whole matter the go-by. If the public mind had retained its fanatical credulity, or if Mather's own share in the delusion of 1692 had been agreeable in the retrospect, it cannot be doubted that it would have afforded THE GREAT THEME, of his great book. All the strange learning, passionate eloquence, and extravagant painting, of its author, would have been lavished upon it; and we should have had another separate Book, with a Hebrew, Greek, or Latin motto or title, which, interpreted, would read _Most Wonderful of Wonders_. In 1692, his language was: "Witchcraft is a business that will not be shammed." In 1700, it was shoved off upon the memory of Mr. Hale, as a business not safe for him, Mather, to meddle with, any longer. It was dropped, as if it burned his fingers. XV. HISTORY OF OPINION AS TO COTTON MATHER'S CONNECTION WITH SALEM WITCHCRAFT. THOMAS BRATTLE. THE PEOPLE OF SALEM VILLAGE. JOHN HALL. JOHN HIGGINSON. MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH. Such passages as the following are found in the article of the _North American Review_: "These views, respecting Mr. Mather's connection with the Salem Trials, are to be found in no publication of a date prior to 1831, when Mr. Upham's _Lectures_ were published." "These charges have been repented by Mr. Quincy, in his _History of Harvard University_, by Mr. Peabody, in his _Life of Cotton Mather_, by Mr. Bancroft, and by nearly all historical writers, since that date." "An examination of the historical text-books, used in our schools, will show when these ideas originated." The position taken by the Reviewer, let it be noticed, is, that the idea of Cotton Mather's taking a leading part in the witchcraft prosecutions of 1692, "_originated_" with me, in a work printed in 1831; and that I have given "the cue" to all subsequent writers on the subject. Now what are the facts? Cotton Mather himself is a witness that the idea was entertained at the time. In his Diary, after endeavoring to explain away the admitted fact that he was the eulogist and champion of the Judges, while the Trials were pending, he says: "Merely, as far as I can learn, for this reason, the mad people through the country, under a fascination on their spirits equal to that which energumens had on their bodies, reviled me as if I had been the doer of all the hard things that were done in the prosecution of the witchcraft." He repeats the complaint, over and over again, in various forms and different writings. Indeed, it could not have been otherwise, than that such should have been the popular impression and conviction. He was, at that time, bringing before the people, most conspicuously, the _second_ and _eighth_ Articles of the _Ministers' Advice_, urging on the prosecutions. His deportment and harangue at Witch-hill, at the execution of Burroughs and Proctor; his confident and eager endorsement, as related by Sewall, of the sentences of the Court, at the moment when all others were impressed with silent solemnity, by the spectacle of five persons, professing their innocency, just launched into eternity; his efforts to prolong the prosecutions, in preparing the book containing the trials of the "Malefactors" who had suffered; and his zeal, on all occasions, to "vindicate the Court" and applaud the Judges; all conspired in making it the belief of the whole people that he was, pre-eminently, answerable for the "hard things that were done in the prosecutions of the witchcraft." That it was the general opinion, at home and abroad, can be abundantly proved. It must be borne in mind, as is explained in my book, that a general feeling prevailed, immediately, and for some years, after the witchcraft "judicial murders," that the whole subject was too humble to be thought of, or ever mentioned; and as nearly the whole community, either by acting in favor of the proceedings or failing to act against them, had become more or less responsible for them, there was an almost universal understanding to avoid crimination or recrimination. Besides, so far as Cotton Mather was concerned, his professional and social position, great talents and learning, and capacity with a disposition for usefulness, joined to the reverence then felt for Ministers prevented his being assailed even by those who most disapproved his course. Increase Mather was President of the College and head of the Clergy. The prevalent impression that _he_ had, to some extent, disapproved of the proceedings, made men unwilling to wound his feelings by severe criticisms upon his son; for, whatever differences might be supposed to exist between them, all well-minded persons respected their natural and honorable sensitiveness to each other's reputation. Reasons like these prevented open demonstrations against both of them. Nevertheless, it is easy to gather sufficient evidence to prove my point. Thomas Brattle was a Boston merchant of great munificence and eminent talents and attainments. His name is perpetuated by "Brattle-street Church," of which he was the chief founder. Dr. John Eliot, in his _Biographical Dictionary_, speaks of him thus--referring to his letter on the witchcraft of 1692, dated October 8, of that year: "Mr. Brattle wrote an account of those transactions, which was too plain and just to be published in those unhappy times, but has been printed since; and which cannot be read without feeling sentiments of esteem for a man, who indulged a freedom of thought becoming a Christian and philosopher. He, from the beginning, opposed the prejudices of the people, the proceedings of the Court, and the perverse zeal of those Ministers of the Gospel, who, by their preaching and conduct, caused such real distress to the community. They, who called him an infidel, were obliged to acknowledge that his wisdom shone with uncommon lustre." His brother, William Brattle, with whom he seems to have been in entire harmony of opinion, on all subjects, was long an honored instructor and Fellow of Harvard College, and Minister of the First Church, at Cambridge. He was celebrated here and in England, for his learning, and endeared to all men by his virtues. He was a Fellow of the Royal Society of London. Jeremiah Dummer, as well qualified to pronounce such an opinion as any man of his time, places him as a preacher above all his contemporaries, in either Old or New England. The Brattles were both politically opposed to the Mathers. But, as matters then stood, in view of the prevailing infatuation--particularly as the course upon which Phips had determined was not then known--caution and prudence were deemed necessary; and the letter was _confidential_. Indeed, all expressions of criticism, on the conduct of the Government, were required to be so. It is a valuable document, justifying the reputation the writer had established in life and has borne ever since. Condemning the methods pursued in the Salem Trials, he says: after stating that "several men, for understanding, judgment, and piety, inferior to few, if any, utterly condemn the proceedings" at Salem, "I shall nominate some of these to you, viz.: the Hon. Simon Bradstreet, Esq., our late Governor; the Hon. Thomas Danforth, our late Deputy-governor; the Rev. Mr. Increase Mather; and the Rev. Mr. Samuel Willard." Bradstreet was ninety years of age, but in the full possession of his mental faculties. In this sense, "his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated." Thirteen years before, when Governor of the Colony, he had refused to order to execution a woman who had been convicted of witchcraft, in a series of trials that had gone through all the Courts, with concurring verdicts, confirmed at an adjudication by the Board of Assistants--as President of which body, it had been his official duty to pass upon her the final sentence of death. Juries, Judges, both branches of the Legislature, and the people, clamored for her execution; but the brave old Governor withstood them all, resolutely and inexorably: an innocent and good woman and the honor of the Colony, at that time, were saved. Mr. Hale informs us that Bradstreet refused to allow the sentence to take effect, for these reasons: that "a spectre doing mischief in her likeness, should not be imputed to her person, as a ground of guilt; and that one single witness to one fact and another single witness to another fact" were not to be esteemed "two witnesses in a matter capital." No Executive Magistrate has left a record more honorable to his name, than that of Bradstreet, on this occasion. If his principles had been heeded, not a conviction could have been obtained, in 1692. It was because of his known opposition, that his two sons were cried out upon and had to fly for their lives. That Brattle was justified in naming Danforth, in this connection, the conversation of that person with Sewall, on the fifteenth of October, proves. It is understood, by many indications, that, although, in former years, inclined to the popular delusions of the day, touching witchcraft, Willard was an opponent of the prosecutions; and Brattle must be regarded as having had means of judging of Increase Mather's views and feelings, on the eighth of October. This singling out of the father, thereby distinguishing him from the son, must, I think, be conclusive evidence, to every man who candidly considers the circumstances of the case and the purport of the document, that Brattle did not consider Cotton Mather entitled to be named in the honored list. Brattle further says: "Excepting Mr. Hale, Mr. Noyes, and Mr. Parris, the Rev. Elders, almost throughout the whole country, are very much dissatisfied." The word "almost," leaves room for others to be placed in the same category with Hale, Noyes, and Parris. The Reviewer argues that because Cotton Mather is not named at all, in either list, therefore he must be counted in the first! The father and son were associate Ministers of the same Church; they shared together a great name, fame, and position; both men of the highest note, here and abroad, conspicuous before all eyes, standing, hand in hand, in all the associations and sentiments of the people, united by domestic ties, similar pursuits, and every form of public action and observation--why did Brattle, in so marked a manner, separate them, holding the one up, in an honorable point of view, and passing over the other, not ever mentioning his name, as the Reviewer observes? If he really disapproved of the prosecutions at Salem--if, as the Reviewer positively states, he "denounced" them--is it not unaccountable that Brattle did not name him with his father? These questions press with especial force upon the Reviewer, under the interpretation he crowds upon the passage from Brattle, I am now to cite. If that interpretation can be allowed, it will, in the face of all that has come to us, make Brattle out to have had a most exalted opinion of Cotton Mather, and render it unaccountable indeed that he did not mention him, in honor, as he did his father and Mr. Willard. The passage is this: "I cannot but highly applaud, and think it our duty to be very thankful for, the endeavours of several Elders, whose lips, I think, should preserve knowledge, and whose counsel should, I think, have been more regarded, in a case of this nature, than as yet it has been: in particular, I cannot but think very honorably of the endeavours of a Rev. person in Boston, whose good affections to his country, in general, and spiritual relation to three of the Judges, in particular, has made him very solicitous and industrious in this matter; and I am fully persuaded, that had his notions and proposals been hearkened to and followed, when those troubles were in their birth, in an ordinary way, they would never have grown unto that height which now they have. He has, as yet, met with little but unkindness, abuse, and reproach, from many men; but, I trust, that in after times, his wisdom and service will find a more universal acknowledgment; and if not, his reward is with the Lord." The learned Editor of the Fifth Volume of the _Massachusetts Historical Collections_, First Series, in a note to this passage (_p. 76_), says: "Supposed to be Mr. Willard." Such has always been the supposition. The Reviewer has undertaken to make it out that Cotton Mather is the person referred to by Brattle. These two men were opposed to each other, in the politics of that period. The course of the Mathers, in connection with the loss of the old, and the establishment of the new, Charter, gave rise to much dissatisfaction; and party divisions were quite acrimonious. The language used by Brattle, applauding the public course of the person of whom he was speaking, would be utterly inexplicable, if applied to Mather. The "endeavours, counsels, notions and proposals," to which he alludes, could not have referred to Mather's plans, which I have attempted to explain, because described by Brattle as being in "an ordinary way." "Unkindness, abuse, and reproach" find an explanation in the fact, that Willard was "cried out upon" and brought into peril of reputation and life, by the creatures of the prosecution. The monstrousness of the supposition that Mather was referred to, would hardly be heightened if it should appear that Brattle supplied Calef with materials in his controversy with Mather. The language, throughout, is in conformity with the political relations between Brattle and Willard. The side the latter had espoused was put beyond question by the appearing, on the fifteenth of November, at Elisha Cook's Thanksgiving; and that was the same occupied by Brattle. But the question is settled by the fact that _three of the Judges_ belonged to Willard's Congregation and Church, whereas only _one_ belonged to the Church of the Mathers. The Reviewer says: "We do not assert that this inference is not the correct one." But, in spite of this substantial admission, with that strange propensity to overturn all the conclusions of history to glorify Cotton Mather, at the expense of others, and even, in this instance, against his own better judgment, he labors to make us believe--what he himself does not venture to "assert"--that the "spiritual relation" in which Mather stood to three of the Judges, was not, what, in those days and ever since, it has been understood to mean, that of a Pastor with his flock, but nothing more than intimate friendship. If this was what Brattle meant, he would have said at least _four_ of the Judges, for, at that time, Sewall was in full accord with Mather. They took counsel together. It was at the house of Sewall that the preparation of the _Wonders of the Invisible World_ was finally arranged with Mather; and he, alone, of all the side Judges, united with Stoughton, some days after the date of Brattle's letter, in endorsing and commending that work. If the expression, "spiritual relations," is divorced from its proper sense, and made to mean sympathy of opinion or agreement in counsels, it ill becomes the Reviewer to try to make it out that Mather held that relation with _any of the Judges_. He represents him, throughout his article, as at sword's points with the Court. He says that he "denounced" its course, "as illegal, uncharitable, and cruel." There is, indeed, not a shadow of foundation for this statement, as to Mather's relation to the Court; but it absolutely precludes the Reviewer from such an interpretation as he attempts, of the expression of Brattle. The Reviewer says: "If Mr. Mather is not alluded to, in this paragraph, he is omitted altogether from the narrative, except as spiritual adviser of the persons condemned." This is an instance of the way in which this writer establishes history. Without any and against all evidence, in the license of his imagination alone, he had thrown out the suggestion that Mather attended the executions, as the ministerial comforter and counsellor of the sufferers. Then, by a sleight of hand, he transforms this "phantasy" of his own brain into an unquestionable fact. If Mr. Mather is not alluded to in the following passage from Brattle's letter, who is? "I cannot but admire, that any should go with their distempered friends and relatives to the afflicted children to know what these distempered friends ail; whether they are not bewitched; who it is that afflicts them; and the like. It is true, I know no reason why these afflicted may not be consulted as well as any other, if so be that it was only their natural and ordinary knowledge that was had recourse to; but it is not on this notion that these afflicted children are sought unto; but as they have a supernatural knowledge--a knowledge which they obtain by their holding correspondence with spectres or evil spirits--as they themselves grant. This consulting of these afflicted children, as abovesaid, seems to me a very gross evil, a real abomination, not fit to be known in New England, and yet is a thing practiced, not only by Tom and John--I mean the ruder and more ignorant sort--but by many who profess high, and pass among us for some of the better sort. This is that which aggravates the evil and makes it heinous and tremendous; and yet this is not the worst of it, for, as sure as I now write to you, even some of our civil leaders and spiritual teachers, who, I think, should punish and preach down such sorcery and wickedness, do yet allow of, encourage, yea, and practice, this very abomination. "I know there are several worthy gentlemen, in Salem, who account this practice as an abomination; have trembled to see the methods of this nature which others have used; and have declared themselves to think the practice to be very evil and corrupt; but all avails little with the abettors of the said practice." Does not this stern condemnation fall on the head of the "spiritual teacher," who received constant communications from the spectral world, fastening the charge of diabolical confederacy upon other persons, in confidential interviews with confessing witches--not to mention the Goodwin girls;--whose boast it was, "it may be no man living has had more people, under preternatural and astonishing circumstances, cast by the Providence of God into his more particular care than I have had;" and that he had kept to himself information thus obtained, which, if he had not suppressed it, would have led to the conviction of "such witches as ought to die;" who sought to have the exclusive right of receiving such communications conferred upon him, "by the authority;" who, at that time, was holding this intercourse with persons pretending to spectral visions; and, the next year, held such relations with Margaret Rule? The next evidence in support of the opinion that Cotton Mather was considered, at the time, as identified with the proceedings at Salem, in 1692, although circumstantial, cannot, I think, but be regarded as quite conclusive. Immediately after the prosecutions terminated, measures began to be developed to remove Mr. Parris from his ministry. The reaction early took effect where the outrages of the delusion had been most flagrant; and the injured feelings of the friends of those who had been so cruelly cut off, and of all who had suffered in their characters and condition, found expression. A movement was made, directly and personally, upon Parris, in consequence of his conspicuous lead in the prosecutions; showing itself, first, in the form of litigation, in the Courts, of questions of salary and the adjustment of accounts. Soon, it broke out in the Church; and satisfaction was demanded, by aggrieved brethren, in the methods appropriate to ecclesiastical action. The charges here made against him were exclusively in reference to his course, at the Examinations and Trials, in 1692. The conflict, thus initiated, is one of the most memorable in our Church History. Parris and his adherents resisted, for a long time, the rightful and orderly demands of his opponents for a Mutual Council. At length, many of the Ministers, who sympathized with the aggrieved brethren, felt it their duty to interpose, and addressed a letter to Mr. Parris, giving him to understand that they were of opinion he ought to comply with the demand for a Council. This letter, dated the fourteenth of June, 1694, was signed by several of the neighboring Ministers, and by James Allen, of the First, and Samuel Willard, of the Old South, Churches, in Boston, _but not by the Mathers_. On the tenth of September, a similar letter was written to him, also signed by neighboring Ministers, and Mr. Allen, and Mr. Willard, _but not by the Mathers_. Not daring to refuse any longer, Parris, professedly yielding to the demand, consented to a Mutual Council, but avoided it, in this way. Each party was to select three Churches, to maintain its interests and give friendly protection to its rights and feelings. The aggrieved brethren selected the Churches of Rowley, Salisbury and Ipswich. Parris undertook to object to the Church of Ipswich; and refused to proceed, if it was invited. Of course, the aggrieved brethren persisted in their right to name the Churches on their side. Knowing that they had the right so to do, and that public opinion would sustain them in it, Parris escaped the dilemma, by calling an _ex parte_ Council; and the Churches invited to it were those of North Boston, Weymouth, Malden, and Rowley. The first was that of the Mathers. That Parris was right in relying upon the Rev. Samuel Torrey of Weymouth, is rendered probable by the circumstance that, of the names of the fourteen Ministers, including all those known to have been opposed to the proceedings at Salem, attached to the recommendation of the _Cases of Conscience_, his is not one; and may be considered as made certain by the fact recorded by Sewall, that he was opposed to the discontinuance of the Trials. The Pastor of the Malden Church was the venerable Michael Wigglesworth, a gentleman of the highest repute; who had declined the Presidency of Harvard College; whose son and grandson became Professors in that institution; and whose descendants still sustain the honor of their name and lineage. From the tone of his writings, it is quite probable that he favored the witchcraft proceedings, at the beginning; but the change of mind, afterwards strongly expressed, had, perhaps, then begun to be experienced, for he did not respond to the call, as his name does not appear in the record of the Council. The fact that Parris chiefly depended upon the Church at North Boston, of which Cotton Mather was Pastor, to sustain his cause, in a Council, whose whole business was to pass upon his conduct in witchcraft prosecutions, is quite decisive. That Church was named by him, from the first to the last, and neither of the other Boston Churches. It shows that he turned to Cotton Mather, more than to any other Minister, to be his champion. It is further decisively proved that the reaction had become strong among the Ministers, by the unusual steps they took to prevent that Council being under the sway of such men as Cotton Mather and Torrey, thereby prolonging the mischief. A meeting of the "Reverend Elders of the Bay" was held; and Mr. Parris was given to understand that, in their judgment, the Churches of Messrs. Allen and Willard ought also to be invited. He bitterly resented this, and saw that it sealed his fate; but felt the necessity of yielding to it. The addition of those two Churches, with their Pastors, determined the character and result of the Council, and gave new strength to the aggrieved brethren, who soon succeeded in compelling Parris and his friends to agree to submit the whole matter to the arbitration of three men, mutually chosen, whose decision should be final. The umpire selected in behalf of the opponents of Parris was no other than Elisha Cook, the head of the party arrayed against Mather. Wait Winthrop appears to have been selected by Parris; and Samuel Sewall was mutually agreed upon. Two of the three, who thus passed final judgment against the proceedings at the Salem Trials, sat on the Bench of the Special Court of Oyer and Terminer. The case of the aggrieved brethren was presented to the Arbitrators in a document, signed by four men, as "Attorneys of the people of the Village," each one of whom had been struck at, in the time of the prosecutions. It _exclusively_ refers to Mr. Parris's conduct, in the witchcraft prosecutions; to "his believing the Devil's accusations;" and to his going to the accusing girls, to know of them "who afflicted" them. For these reasons, and these alone, they "submit the whole" to the decision of the Arbitrators, concluding thus: "to determine whether we are, or ought to be, any ways obliged to honor, respect, and support such an instrument of our miseries." The Arbitrators decided that they _ought not_; fixed the sum to be paid to Parris, as a final settlement; and declared the ministerial relation, between him and the people of the Village, dissolved. With this official statement of the grounds on which his dismission was demanded and obtained, before his eyes, as printed by Calef (_p. 63_), this Reviewer says that Parris remained the Minister of Salem Village, five years "after the witchcraft excitement;" and further says, "the immediate cause of his leaving, was his quarrel with the Parish, concerning thirty cords of wood and the fee of the parsonage." He thus thinks, by a dash of his pen, to strike out the record of the fact that the main, in truth, the only, ground on which Parris was dismissed, was the part he bore in the witchcraft prosecutions. The salary question had been pending in the Courts; but it was wholly left out of view, by the party demanding his dismission. It had nothing to do with _dismission_; was a question of _contract_ and _debt_; and was absorbed in the "excitement," _which had never ceased_, about the witchcraft prosecutions. The Arbitrators did not decide those questions, about salary and the balance of accounts, except as incidental to the other question, of _dismission_. The feeling among the inhabitants of Salem Village, that Cotton Mather was in sympathy with Mr. Parris, during the witchcraft prosecutions, is demonstrated by the facts I have adduced connected with the controversy between them and the latter, and most emphatically by their choice of Elisha Cook, as the Arbitrator, on their part. Surely no persons of that day, understood the matter better than they did. Indeed, they could not have been mistaken about it. It remained the settled conviction of that community. When the healing ministry of the successor of Parris, Joseph Green, was brought to a close, by the early death of that good man, in 1715, and the whole Parish, still feeling the dire effects of the great calamity of 1692, were mourning their bereavement, expressed in their own language: "the choicest flower, and greenest olive-tree, in the garden of our God here, cut down in its prime and flourishing estate," they passed a vote, earnestly soliciting the Rev. William Brattle of Cambridge, to visit them. He was always a known opponent of Cotton Mather. To have selected him to come to them, in their distress and destitution, indicates the views then prevalent in the Village. He went to them and guided them by his advice, until they obtained a new Minister. The mention of the fact by Mr. Hale, already stated, that Cotton Mather's book, _Memorable Providences_, was used as an authority by the Judges at the Salem Trials, shows that the author of that work was regarded by Hale as, to that extent at least, responsibly connected with the prosecutions. I pass over, for the present, the proceedings and writings of Robert Calef. After the lapse of a few years, a feeling, which had been slowly, but steadily, rising among the people, that some general and public acknowledgment ought to be made by all who had been engaged in the proceedings of 1692, and especially by the authorities, of the wrongs committed in that dark day, became too strong to be safely disregarded. On the seventeenth of December, 1696, Stoughton, then acting as Governor, issued a Proclamation, ordaining, in his name and that of the Council and Assembly, a Public Fast, to be kept on the fourteenth of January, to implore that the anger of God might be turned away, and His hand, then stretched over the people in manifold judgments, lifted. After referring to the particular calamities they were suffering and to the many days that had been spent in solemn addresses to the throne of mercy, it expresses a fear that something was still wanting to accompany their supplications, and proceeds to refer, specially, to the witchcraft tragedy. It was on the occasion of this Fast, that Judge Sewall acted the part, in the public assembly of the old South Church, for which his name will ever be held in dear and honored memory. The public mind was, no doubt, gratified and much relieved, but not satisfied, by this demonstration. The Proclamation did not, after all, meet its demands. Upon careful examination and deliberate reflection, it rather aggravated the prevalent feeling. Written, as was to be supposed, by Stoughton, it could not represent a reaction in which he took no part. It spoke of "mistakes on either hand," and used general forms, "wherein we have done amiss, to do so no more." It endorsed in a new utterance, the delusion, sheltering the proper agents of the mischief, by ascribing it all to "Satan and his instruments, through the awful judgment of God;" and no atonement for the injuries to the good name and estates of the sufferers, not to speak of the lives that had been cut off, was suggested. The conviction was only deepened, in all good minds, that something more ought to be done. Mr. Hale, of Beverly, met the obligation pressing upon his sense of justice and appealing to him with especial force, by writing his book, from which the following passages are extracted: "I would come yet nearer to our own times, and bewail the errors and mistakes that have been, in the year 1692--by following such traditions of our fathers, maxims of the common law, and precedents and principles, which now we may see, weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, are found too light--Such was the darkness of that day, the tortures and lamentations of the afflicted, and the power of former precedents, that we walked in the clouds and could not see our way--I would humbly propose whether it be not expedient that somewhat more should be publicly done than yet hath, for clearing the good name and reputation of some that have suffered upon this account." The Rev. John Higginson, Senior Pastor of the First Church in Salem, then eighty-two years of age, in a recommendatory _Epistle to the Reader_, prefixed to Mr. Hale's book, dated the twenty-third of March, 1698, after stating that, "under the infirmities of a decrepit old age, he stirred little abroad, and was much disenabled (both in body and mind) from knowing and judging of occurrents and transactions of that time," proceeds to say that he was "more willing to accompany" Mr. Hale "to the press," because he thought his "treatise needful and useful upon divers accounts;" among others specified by him, is the following: "That whatever errors or mistakes we fell into, in the dark hour of temptation that was upon us, may be (upon more light) so discovered, acknowledged, and disowned by us, as that it may be matter of warning and caution to those that come after us, that they may not fall into the like.--_1 Cor._, x., 11. _Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum._ I would also propound, and leave it as an object of consideration, to our honored Magistrates and Reverend Ministers, whether the equity of that law in _Leviticus_, Chap. iv., for a sin-offering for the Rulers and for the Congregation, in the case of sins of ignorance, when they come to be known, be not obliging, and for direction to us in a Gospel way." The venerable man concludes by saying that "it shall be the prayer of him who is daily waiting for his change and looking for the mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ, unto eternal life," that the "blessing of Heaven may go along with this little treatise to attain the good ends thereof." Judge Sewall, too, and the Jury that had given the verdicts at the Trials, in 1692, publicly and emphatically acknowledged that they had been led into error. All these things afford decisive and affecting evidence of a prevalent conviction that a great wrong had been committed. The vote passed by the Church at Salem Village, on the fourteenth of February, 1703--"We are, through God's mercy to us, convinced that we were, at that dark day, under the power of those errors which then prevailed in the land." "We desire that this may be entered in our Church-book," "that so God may forgive our Sin, and may be atoned for the land; and we humbly pray that God will not leave us any more to such errors and sins"--affords striking proof that the right feeling had penetrated the whole community. On the eighth of July, of that same year, nearly the whole body of the Clergy of Essex-county addressed a Memorial to the General Court, in which they say, "There is great reason to fear that innocent persons then suffered, and that God may have a controversy with the land upon that account." Nothing of the kind, however, was ever heard from the Ministers of Boston and the vicinity. Why did they not join their voices in this prayer, going up elsewhere, from all concerned, for the divine forgiveness? We know that most of them felt right. Samuel Willard and James Allen did; and so did William Brattle, of Cambridge. Their silence cannot, it seems to me, be accounted for, but by considering the degree to which they were embarrassed by the relation of the Mathers to the affair. One brave-hearted old man remonstrated against their failure to meet the duty of the hour, and addressed his remonstrance to the right quarter. The Rev. Michael Wigglesworth, a Fellow of Harvard College, and honored in all the Churches, wrote a letter to Increase Mather, dated July 22, 1704 [_Mather Papers, 647_], couched in strong and bold terms, beginning thus: "REV. AND DEAR S^R. I am right well assured that both yourself, your son, and the rest of our brethren with you in Boston, have a deep sense upon your spirits of the awful symptoms of the Divine displeasure that we lie under at this day." After briefly enumerating the public calamities of the period, he continues: "I doubt not but you are all endeavouring to find out and discover to the people the causes of God's controversy, and how they are to be removed; to help forward this difficult and necessary work, give me leave to impart some of my serious and solemn thoughts. I fear (amongst our many other provocations) that God hath a controversy with us about what was done in the time of the Witchcraft. I fear that innocent blood hath been shed, and that _many have had their hands defiled therewith_." After expressing his belief that the Judges acted conscientiously, and that the persons concerned were deceived, he proceeds: "Be it then that it was done ignorantly. Paul, a Pharisee, persecuted the Church of God, shed the blood of God's Saints, and yet obtained mercy, because he did it in ignorance; but how doth he bewail it, and shame himself for it, before God and men afterwards. [_1 Tim., i., 13, 16._] I think, and am verily persuaded, God expects that we do the like, in order to our obtaining his pardon: I mean by a Public and Solemn acknowledgment of it and humiliation for it; and the more particularly and personally it is done by all that have been actors, the more pleasing it will be to God, and more effectual to turn away his judgments from the Land, and to prevent his wrath from falling upon the persons and families of such as have been most concerned. "I know this is a _Noli Me tangere_, but what shall we do? Must we pine away in our iniquities, rather than boldly declare the Counsel of God, who tells us, [_Isa., i., 15._] 'When you make many prayers, I will not hear you, your hands are full of blood.'" He further says that he believes that "the whole country lies under a curse to this day, and will do, till some effectual course be taken by our honored Governor and General Court to make amends and reparation" to the families of such as were condemned "for supposed witchcraft," or have "been ruined by taking away and making havoc of their estates." After continuing the argument, disposing of the excuse that the country was too impoverished to do any thing in that way, he charges his correspondent to communicate his thoughts to "the Rev. Samuel Willard and the rest of our brethren in the ministry," that action may be taken, without delay. He concludes his plain and earnest appeal and remonstrance, in those words: "I have, with a weak body and trembling hand, endeavoured to leave my testimony before I leave the world; and having left it with you (my Rev. Brethren) I hope I shall leave this life with more peace, when God seeth meet to call me hence." He died within a year. When the tone of this letter is carefully considered, and the pressure of its forcible and bold reasoning, amounting to expostulation, is examined, it can hardly be questioned that it was addressed to the persons who most needed to be appealed to. But no effect appears to have been produced by it. In introducing his report of the Trials, contained in the _Wonders of the Invisible World_, Cotton Mather, alluding to the "surviving relations" of those who had been executed, says: "The Lord comfort them." It was poor consolation he gave them in that book--holding up their parents, wives, and husbands, as "Malefactors." Neither he nor his father ever expressed a sentiment in harmony with those uttered by Hale, Higginson, or Wigglesworth--on the contrary, Cotton Mather, writing a year after the Salem Tragedy, almost chuckles over it: "In the whole--the Devil got just nothing--but God got praises. Christ got subjects, the Holy Spirit got temples, the church got addition, and the souls of men got everlasting benefits."--_Calef_, 12. Stoughton remained nearly the whole time, until his death, in May, 1702, in control of affairs. By his influence over the Government and that of the Mathers over the Clergy, nothing was done to remove the dark stigma from the honor of the Province, and no seasonable or adequate reparation ever made for the Great Wrong. I am additionally indebted to the kindness of Dr. Moore for the following extracts from a Sermon to the General Assembly, delivered by Cotton Mather, in 1709, intitled "_Theopolis Americana_. Pure Gold in the market place." "In two or three too Memorable _Days of Temptation_, that have been upon us, there have been _Errors_ Committed. You are always ready to Declare unto all the World, 'That you disapprove those Errors.' You are willing to inform all mankind with your _Declarations_. "That no man may be Persecuted, because he is Conscienciously not of the same Religious Opinions, with those that are uppermost. "And; That Persons are not to be judged Confederates with Evil Spirits, merely because the Evil Spirits do make Possessed People cry out upon them. "Could any thing be Proposed further, by way of Reparation, [Besides the General Day of Humiliation, which was appointed and observed thro' the Province, to bewayl the Errors of our Dark time, some years ago:] You would be willing to hearken to it." The suggestion thus made, not, it must be confessed, in very urgent terms, did not, it is probable, produce much impression. The preacher seemed to rest upon the Proclamation issued by Stoughton, some eleven years before. Coupling the two errors specified together, was not calculated to give effect to the recommendation. Public opinion was not, then, prepared to second such enlightened views as to religious liberty. It is very noticeable that Mather here must be considered as admitting that "in the Dark time," persons were judged "Confederates with Evil Spirits," "merely" because of Spectral Evidence. All that was said, on this occasion, does not amount to any thing, as an expression of _personal_ opinion or feeling, relating to points on which Hale and Higginson uttered their deep sensibility, and Wigglesworth had addressed to the Mathers and other Ministers, his solemn and searching appeal. The duty of reparation for the great wrong was thrown off upon others, than those particularly and prominently responsible. Nothing has led me to suppose that Cotton Mather was cruel or heartless, in his natural or habitual disposition. He never had the wisdom or dignity to acknowledge, as an individual, or _as one of the Clergy_, or to propose specific reparation for, the fearful mischiefs, sufferings and horrors growing out of the witchcraft prosecutions. The extent to which he was at the time, and probably always continued to be, the victim of baleful superstitions, is his only apology, and we must allow it just weight. A striking instance of the occasional ascendency of his better feelings, and of the singular methods in which he was accustomed to act, is presented in the following extract from his Diary, at a late period of his life. We may receive it as an indication that he was not insensible of his obligation to do good, where, with his participation, so much evil had been done: "There is a town in this country, namely, Salem, which has many poor and bad people in it, and such as are especially scandalous for staying at home on the Lord's day. I wrapped up seven distinct parcels of money and annexed seven little books about repentance, and seven of the monitory letter against profane absence from the house of God. I sent those things with a nameless letter unto the Minister of that Town, and desired and empowered him to dispense the charity in his own name, hoping thereby the more to ingratiate his ministry with the people. Who can tell how far the good Angels of Heaven cooperate in those proceeding?" XVI. HISTORY OF OPINION AS TO COTTON MATHER, CONTINUED. FRANCIS HUTCHINSON. DANIEL NEAL. ISAAC WATTS. THOMAS HUTCHINSON. WILLIAM BENTLEY. JOHN ELIOT. JOSIAH QUINCY. It was the common opinion in England, that the Mathers, particularly the younger, were pre-eminently responsible for the proceedings at Salem, in 1692. Francis Hutchinson, in the work from which I have quoted, speaks of the whole system of witchcraft doctrine, as "fantastic notions," which are "so far from raising their sickly visions into legal evidence, that they are grounded upon the very dregs of Pagan and Popish superstitions, and leave the lives of innocent men naked, without defence against them;" and in giving a list of books, written for upholding them, mentions, "Mr. Increase and Mr. Cotton Mather's several tracts;" and, in his Chapter on Witchcraft in Massachusetts, in 1692, commends the book of "Mr. Calef, a Merchant in that Plantation." About the same time, the Rev. Daniel Neal, the celebrated author of the _History of the Puritans_, wrote a _History of New England_, in which he gives place to a brief, impartial, and just account of the witchcraft proceedings, in 1692. He abstains from personal criticisms, but expresses this general sentiment: "Strange were the mistakes that some of the wisest and best men of the country committed on this occasion; which must have been fatal to the whole Province, if God, in his Providence, had not mercifully interposed." The only sentence that contains a stricture on Cotton Mather, particularly, is that in which he thus refers to his statement that a certain confession was _freely_ made. Neal quietly suggests, "whether the act of a man in prison, and under apprehension of death, may be called free, I leave others to judge." Dr. Isaac Watts, having read Neal's book, thought it necessary to write a letter to Cotton Mather, dated February 10, 1720; (_Massachusetts Historical Collections, I., v., 200_) and, describing a conversation he had just been having with Neal, says: "There is another thing, wherein my brother is solicitous lest he should have displeased you, and that is, the Chapter on Witchcraft, but, as he related matters of fact, by comparison of several authors, he hopes that you will forgive that he has not fallen into your sentiments exactly." The anxiety felt by Neal and Watts, lest the feelings of Mather might be wounded, shows what they thought of his implication with the affair. This inference is rendered unavoidable, when we examine Neal's book and find that he quotes or refers to Calef, all along, without the slightest question as to his credibility, receiving his statements and fully recognizing his authority. Indeed, his references to Calef are about ten to one oftener than to Mather. The attempt of Neal and Watts to smooth the matter down, by saying that the former had been led to his conclusions by "a comparison of several authors," could have given little satisfaction to Mather, as the authors whom he chiefly refers to, are Calef and Mather; and, comparing them with each other, he followed Calef. The impression thus held in England, even by Mather's friends and correspondents, that he was unpleasantly connected with the Witchcraft of 1692, has been uniformly experienced, on both sides of the water, until this Reviewer's attempt to erase it from the minds of men. Thomas Hutchinson was born in 1711, and brought up in the neighborhood of the Mathers; finishing his collegiate course and taking his Bachelor's degree at Harvard College, in 1727, a year before the death of Cotton Mather. He had opportunities to form a correct judgment about Salem Witchcraft and the chief actor in the proceedings, greater than any man of his day; but his close family connection with the Mathers imposed some restraint upon his expressions; not enough, however, to justify the statement of the Reviewer that he does not mention the "agency" of Cotton Mather in that transaction. There are several very distinct references to Mather's "agency," in Hutchinson's account of the transactions connected with Salem Witchcraft, some of which I have cited. I ask to whom does the following passage refer?--_ii., 63._--"One of the Ministers, who, in the time of it, was fully convinced that the complaining persons were no impostors, and who vindicated his own conduct and that of the Court, in a Narrative he published, remarks, not long after, in his Diary, that many were of opinion that innocent blood had been shed." This shows that Hutchinson regarded Cotton Mather's agency in the light in which I have represented it; that he considered him as wholly committed to the then prevalent delusion; as acting a part that identified him with the prosecutions; and that the Narrative he published was a joint vindication of himself and the Court. Hutchinson fastens the passage upon Mather, by the reference to the Diary; and while he says that it contained a statement, that many believed the persons who suffered innocent, he avoids saying that such was the opinion of the author of the Diary. Finally, his taking particular pains to do it, by giving a Note to the purpose of expressing his confidence in Calef, pronouncing him a "fair relator"--_ii., 56_--proves that Governor Hutchinson held the opinion about Mather's "agency," which has always heretofore been ascribed to him. William Bentley, D.D., was born in Boston, and for a large part of the first half of his life resided, as his family had done for a long period, in the North part of that Town. He was of a turn of mind to gather all local traditions, and, through all his days, devoted to antiquarian pursuits. No one of his period paid more attention to the subject of the witchcraft delusion. For much of our information concerning it, we are indebted to his _History and Description of Salem_, printed in 1800--_Massachusetts Historical Collections, I., vi._--After relating many of its incidents, he breaks forth in condemnation of those who, disapproving, at the time, of the proceedings, did not come out and denounce them. Holding the opinion, which had come down from the beginning, that Increase Mather disapproved of the transaction, he indignantly repudiates the idea of giving him any credit therefor. "Increase Mather did not oppose Cotton Mather"--this is the utterance of a received, and, to him, unquestioned, opinion that Cotton Mather approved of, and was a leading agent in, the prosecutions. The views of Dr. John Eliot, are freely given, to the same effect, in his _Biographical Dictionary_, as will presently be shown. The late Josiah Quincy had studied the annals of Massachusetts with the thoroughness with which he grappled every subject to which he turned his thoughts. His ancestral associations covered the whole period of its history; and all the channels of the local traditions of Boston were open to his enquiring and earnest mind. His _History of Harvard University_ is a monument that will stand forever. In that work, he speaks of the agreement of Stoughton's views with those of the Mathers; and, in connection with the witchcraft delusion, says that both of them "had an efficient agency in producing and prolonging that excitement." "The conduct of Increase Mather, in relation to it, was marked with caution and political skill; but that of his son, Cotton Mather, was headlong, zealous, and fearless, both as to character and consequences. In its commencement and progress, his activity is every-where conspicuous." The Reviewer represents Mr. Quincy as merely repeating what I had said in my Lectures. He makes the same reckless assertion in reference to Bancroft, the late William B. O. Peabody, D.D., and every one else, who has written upon the subject, since 1831. The idea that Josiah Quincy "took his cue" from me, is simply preposterous. He does not refer to me, nor give any indication that he had ever seen my _Lectures_, but cites Calef, as his authority, over and over again. Dr. Peabody refers to Calef throughout, and draws upon him freely and with confidence, as every one else, who has written about the transaction, has probably done. It may safely be said, that no historical fact has ever been more steadily recognized, than the action and, to a great degree, controlling agency, of Cotton Mather, in supporting and promoting the witchcraft proceedings of 1692. That it has, all along, been the established conviction of the public mind, is proved by the chronological series of names I have produced. Thomas Hutchinson, John Eliot, William Bentley, and Josiah Quincy, cover the whole period from Cotton Mather's day to this. They knew, as well as any other men that can be named, the current opinions, transmitted sentiments, and local and personal annals, of Boston. They reflect with certainty an assurance, running in an unbroken course over a century and a half. Their family connections, social position, conversance with events, and familiar knowledge of what men thought, believed, and talked about, give to their concurrent and continuous testimony, a force and weight of authority that are decisive; and demonstrate that, instead of my having invented and originated the opinion of Cotton Mather's agency in the matter now under consideration, I have done no more than to restate what has been believed and uttered from the beginning. The writer in the _North American_ says: "Within the last forty years, there has grown up a fashion, among our historical writers, of defaming his character and underrating his productions. For a specimen of these attacks, the reader is referred to a _Supposed Letter from Rev. Cotton Mather, D.D., with comments on the same by James Savage_." The article mentioned consists of the "supposed letter," and a very valuable communication from the late Rev. Samuel Sewall, with some items by Mr. Savage--[_Massachusetts Historical Collections, IV., ii., 122._] Neither of these enlightened, faithful, and indefatigable scholars is to be disposed of in this style. They followed no "fashion;" and their venerable names are held in honor by all true disciples of antiquarian and genealogical learning. The author of such works, in this department, as Mr. Savage has produced, cannot be thus set aside by a magisterial and supercilious waving of the hand of this Reviewer. XVII. THE EFFECT UPON THE POWER OF THE MATHERS, IN THE PUBLIC AFFAIRS OF THE PROVINCE, OF THEIR CONNECTION WITH WITCHCRAFT. The Reviewer takes exception to my statement, that the connection of the Mathers with the witchcraft business, "broke down" their influence in public affairs. What are the facts? It has been shown, that the administration of Sir William Phips, at its opening, was under their control, to an extent never equalled by that of private men over a Government. The prayers of Cotton Mather were fully answered; and if wise and cautious counsels had been given, what both father and son had so coveted, in the political management of the Province, would have been permanently realized. But, aiming to arm themselves with terrific and overwhelming strength, by invoking the cooperation of forces from the spiritual, invisible, and diabolical world, with rash "precipitancy," they hurried on the witchcraft prosecutions. The consequence was, that in six months, the whole machinery on which they had placed their reliance was prostrate. At the very next election, Elisha Cook was chosen and Nathaniel Saltonstall rechosen, to the Council; and, ever after, the Mathers were driven to the wall, in desperate and unavailing self-defence. No party or faction could claim the Earl of Bellamont, during his brief administration, covering but fourteen months. Although the only nobleman ever sent over as Governor of Massachusetts, more than all others, he conciliated the general good will. His short term of office and wise policy prevented any particular advantage to the Mathers from the dedication to him of the _Life of Phips_. During the entire period, between 1692 and the arrival of Dudley to the Government, the opponents of the Mathers were steadily increasing their strength. Opposition to Increase Mather was soon developed in attempts to remove him from the Presidency of Harvard College. In 1701, an Order was passed by the General Court, "that no man should act as President of the College, who did not reside at Cambridge." This decided the matter. Increase Mather resigned, on the sixth of September following; and, the same day, the Rev. Samuel Willard took charge of the College, under the title of Vice-president, and acted as President, to the acceptance of the people and with the support of the Government of the Province, to his death, in 1707--all the while allowed to retain the pastoral connection with his Church, in Boston. Joseph Dudley arrived from England, on the eleventh of June, 1702, with his Commission, as Captain-general and Governor of the Province. On the sixteenth, he made a call upon Cotton Mather, who relates the interview in his Diary. It seems that Mather made quite a speech to the new Governor, urging him "to carry an indifferent hand toward all parties," and explaining his meaning thus: "By no means, let any people have cause to say that you take all your measures from the two Mr. Mathers." He then added: "By the same rule, I may say without offence, by no means let any people say that you go by no measures in your conduct but Mr. Byfield's and Mr. Leverett's. This I speak, not from any personal prejudice against the gentlemen, but from a due consideration of the disposition of the people, and as a service to your Excellency." Dudley--whether judging rightly or not is to be determined by taking into view his position, the then state of parties, and the principles of human nature--evidently regarded this as a trap. If he had followed the advice, and kept aloof from Byfield and Leverett, they would have been placed at a distance from him, and he would necessarily have fallen into the hands of the Mathers. He may have thought that the only way to avoid such a result, was for him to explain to those gentlemen his avoidance of them, by mentioning to them what Mather had said to him, thereby signifying to them, that, as a matter of policy, he thought it best to adopt the suggestion and stand aloof from both sides. Whether acting from this consideration or from resentment, he informed them of it; whereupon Mather inserted this in his Diary: "The WRETCH went unto those men and told them that I had advised him to be no ways directed by them, and inflamed them into implacable rage against me." After this, the relations between Dudley and the Mathers must have been sufficiently awkward and uncomfortable; but no particular public demonstrations appear to have been made, on either side, for some time. Mr. Willard died on the twelfth of September, 1707; and the great question again rose as to the proper person to be called to the head of the College. The extraordinary learning of Cotton Mather undoubtedly gave him commanding and pre-eminent claims in the public estimation; and he had reason to think that the favorite object of his ambition was about to be attained. But he was doomed to bitter disappointment. On the twenty-eighth of October, the Corporation, through its senior member, the Rev. James Allen of Boston, communicated to the Governor the vote of that body, appointing the "Honorable John Leverett" to the Presidency; and, on the fourteenth of January, 1708, he was publicly inducted to office. The Mathers could stand it no longer; but, six days after, addressed, each, a letter to Dudley, couched in the bitterest and most abusive terms.--[_Massachusetts Historical Society's Collections, I., iii., 126._] No explosions of disappointed politicians and defeated aspirants for office, in our day, surpass these letters. They show how deeply the writers were stung. They heap maledictions on the Governor, without any of the restraints of courtesy or propriety. They charge him with all sorts of malversation in office, bribery, peculation, extortion, falseness, hypocrisy, and even murder; imputing to him "the guilt of innocent blood," because, many years before, he had, as Chief-justice of New York, presided at the Trial of Leisler and Milburn; and averring that "those men were not only murdered, but barbarously murdered." It is observable that some of the heinous crimes charged upon Dudley, occurred before his arrival as Governor of Massachusetts, in 1702; and that, in these very letters, they remind him that it was, in part, by their influence that he was then appointed, and that a letter from Cotton Mather, in favor of his appointment, was read before "the late King William." Both the Mathers were remarkable for a lack of vision, in reference to the logical bearing of what they said. It did not occur to them, that the fact of their soliciting his appointment closed their mouths from making charges for public acts well known to them at the time. Dudley says that he was assured by the Mathers, on his arrival, that he had the favor of all good men; and Cotton Mather, in his letter, reminds him that he signalized his friendly feelings, by giving to the public, on that occasion, the "portraiture of a good man." It is proved, therefore, by the evidence on both sides, that, well knowing all about the Leisler affair and other crimes alleged against him, they were ready, and most desirous, to secure his favor and friendship; and to identify themselves with his administration. In alluding to these letters, Hutchinson (_History, ii., 194_,) says: "In times when party spirit prevails, what will not a Governor's enemies believe, however injurious and absurd? At such a time, he was charged with dispensing _summum jus_ to Leisler and incurring an aggravated guilt of blood beyond that of a common murderer. The other party, no doubt, would have charged the failure of justice upon him, if Leisler had been acquitted." Dudley replied to both these extraordinary missives, in a letter dated the third of February, 1708. After rebuking, in stern and dignified language, the tone and style of their letters, reminding them, by apt citations from Scripture of the "laws of wise and Christian reproof," which they had violated, and showing upon what false foundations their charges rested, he says: "Can you think it the most proper season to do me good by your admonitions, when you have taken care to let the world know you are out of frame and filled with the last prejudice against my person and Government?" "Every one can see through the pretence, and is able to account for the spring of these letters, and how they would have been prevented, without easing any grievances you complain of." He makes the following proposal: "After all, though I have reason to complain to heaven and earth of your unchristian rashness, and wrath, and injustice, I would yet maintain a christian temper towards you. I do, therefore, now assure you that I shall be ready to give you all the satisfaction Christianity requires, in those points which are proper for you to seek to receive it in, when, with a proper temper and spirit, giving me timely notice, you do see meet to make me a visit for that end; and I expect the same satisfaction from you." He offers this significant suggestion: "I desire you will keep your station, and let fifty or sixty good Ministers, your equals in the Province, have a share in the Government of the College and advise thereabouts, as well as yourselves, and I hope all will be well." He concludes by claiming that he is sustained by the favor of the "Ministers of New England;" and characterises the issue between him and them thus: "The College must be disposed against the opinion of all the Ministers in New England, except yourselves, or the Governor torn in pieces. This is the view I have of your inclination." Dudley continued to administer the Government for eight years longer, until the infirmities of age compelled him to retire. Both Hutchinson and Doctor John Eliot give us to understand that he conducted the public affairs with great ability and success, with the general approval of all classes, and particularly of the Clergy. His statement that he had the support of all the Ministers of New England, except the Mathers, was undoubtedly correct. It is certainly true of the Ministers of Boston. In his Diary, under the year 1709, Cotton Mather says: "The other Ministers of the Town are this day feasting with our wicked Governor. I have, by my provoking plainness and freedom, in telling this Ahab of his wickedness, procured myself to be left out of his invitations. I rejoiced in my liberty from the temptations wherewith they were encumbered." He set apart that day for fasting and prayer, the special interest of which, he says, "was to obtain deliverance and protection" from his "enemies," whose names, he informs us, he "mentioned unto the Lord, who had promised to be my shield." The bitterness with which Mather felt exclusion from power is strikingly illustrated in a letter addressed by him to Stephen Sewall, published by me in the Appendix to the edition of my _Lectures_, printed in 1831. I subjoin a few extracts: "A couple of malignant fellows, a while since, railing at me in the Bookseller's shop, among other things they said, 'and his friend Noyes has cast him off,' at which they set up a laughter." "No doubt, you understand, how ridiculously things have been managed in our late General Assembly; voting and unvoting, the same day; and, at last, the squirrels perpetually running into the mouth open for them, though they had cried against it wonderfully. And your neighbor, Sowgelder, after his indefatigable pains at the castration of all common honesty, rewarded, before the Court broke up, with being made one of your brother Justices; which the whole House, as well as the apostate himself, had in view, all along, as the expected wages of his iniquity." "If things continue in the present administration, there will shortly be not so much as a shadow of justice left in the country. Bribery, a crime capital among the Pagans, is already a peccadillo among us. All officers are learning it. And, if I should say, Judges will find the way to it, some will say, there needs not the future tense in the case." "Every thing is betrayed, and that we, on the top of our house, may complete all, our very religion, with all the Churches, is at last betrayed--the treachery carried on with lies, and fallacious representations, and finished by the rash hands of our Clergy." That Cotton Mather continued all his subsequent life to experience the dissatisfaction, and give way to the feelings, of a disappointed man, is evident from his Diary. I have quoted from it a few passages. The Reviewer says it "is full of penitential confessions," and seems to liken him, in this respect, to the Apostle of the Gentiles. Speaking of my having cited the Diary, as historical evidence, he says: "Such a use of the confessional, we believe, is not common with historical writers." I do not remember anything like "penitential confessions," in the passages from the Diary given in my book. The reader is referred to them, in Volume II., Page 503. They belong to the year 1724, and are thus prefaced: "DARK DISPENSATIONS, BUT LIGHT ARISING IN DARKNESS." "It may be of some use to me, to observe some very dark dispensations, wherein the recompense of my poor essays at well-doing, in this life, seem to look a little discouraging; and then to express the triumph of my faith over such and all discouragements." "Of the things that look dark, I may touch of twice seven instances." The writer, in the _Christian Examiner_, November, 1831, from whom I took them, omitted two, "on account of their too personal or domestic character." I cannot find the slightest trace of a penitential tear on those I have quoted; and cite now but one of them, as pertinent to the point I am making: "What has a gracious Lord given me to do for the good of the country? in applications without number for it, in all its interests, besides publications of things useful to it, and for it. And, yet, there is no man whom the country so loads with disrespect, and calumnies, and manifold expressions of aversion." This is a specimen of the whole of them--one half recounting what he had done, the other complaining, sometimes almost scolding, at the poor requital he had received. President Leverett died on the third of May, 1724. His death was lamented by the country; and the most eminent men vied with each other in doing honor to his memory. The Rev. Benjamin Colman called him "our master," and pronounced his life as "great and good." "The young men saw him and hid themselves, and the aged arose and stood up." Dr. Appleton declared that he had been "an honored ornament to his country. Verily, the breach is so wide, that none but an all-sufficient God (with whom is the residue of the Spirit) can repair or heal it." The late Benjamin Peirce, in his _History of Harvard University_, says that "his Presidency was successful and brilliant." He was honored abroad, as well as at home; and his name is inscribed on the rolls of the Royal Society of London. Mr. Peirce says: "He had a great and generous soul." His natural abilities were of a very high order. His attainments were profound and extensive. He was well acquainted with the learned languages, with the arts and "sciences, with history, philosophy, law, divinity, politics." Such, we are told, were "the majesty and marks of greatness, in his speech, his behaviour, and his very countenance," that the students of the College were inspired with reverence and affection. In his earlier and later life, he had been connected with the College, as Tutor and as President; and in the intermediate period, he had filled the highest legislative and judicial stations, and been intrusted with the most important functions connected with the military service. I am inclined to think, all things considered, a claim, in his behalf, might be put in for the distinction the Reviewer awards to Cotton Mather, as "doubtless the most brilliant man of his day in New England." President Leverett was buried on the sixth of May. Cotton Mather officiated as one of the Pall-bearers, and then went home, and made the following entry in his Diary, dated the seventh: "The sudden death of that unhappy man who sustained the place of President in our College, will open a door for my doing singular services in the best of interests. I do not know that the care of the College will now be cast upon me; though I am told it is what is most generally wished for. If it should be, I shall be in abundance of distress about it; but, if it should not, yet I may do many things for the good of the College more quietly and more hopefully than formerly." As time wore away, and no choice of President was made, he became more and more sensible that an influence, hostile to him, was in the ascendency; and, on the first of July, he writes thus, in his Diary: "This day being our insipid, ill-contrived anniversary, which we call Commencement, I chose to spend it at home, in supplications, partly on the behalf of the College, that it may not be foolishly thrown away, but that God may bestow such a President upon it, as may prove a rich blessing unto it and unto all our Churches." In the meanwhile, he renewed his attendance at the meetings of the Overseers; having never occupied his seat, in that Body, with the exception of a single Session, during the whole period of Leverett's presidency. The Board, at a meeting he attended, on the sixth of August, 1724, passed a vote advising and directing the speedy election of a President. On the eleventh, the Corporation chose the Rev. Joseph Sewall of the Old South Church; and Mather records the event in his Diary, as follows: "I am informed that, yesterday, the six men, who call themselves the Corporation of the College, met, and, contrary to the epidemical expectation of the country, chose a modest young man, Sewall, of whose piety (and little else) every one gives a laudable character." "I always foretold these two things of the Corporation: First, that, if it were possible for them to steer clear of me, they will do so. Secondly, that, if it were possible for them to act foolishly, they will do so. The perpetual envy with which my essays to serve the kingdom of God are treated among them, and the dread that Satan has of my beating up his quarters at the College, led me into the former sentiment; the marvellous indiscretion, with which the affairs of the College are managed, led me into the latter." Mr. Sewall declined the appointment. On the eighteenth of November, the Rev. Benjamin Colman, of the Brattle-street Church, was chosen. He also declining, the Rev. Benjamin Wadsworth, of the First Church, was elected, in June, 1725, and inaugurated on the seventh of July. It thus appears that Dr. Mather was pointedly passed over; and every other Minister of Boston successively chosen to that great office. Of course he took, as Mr. Peirce informs us, no further part in the management of the College. While he considered, as he expressed it, the "senselessness" of those entrusted with its affairs, as threatening "little short of a dissolution of the College," yet he persuaded himself that he had never desired the office. He had, he says, "unspeakable cause to admire the compassion of Heaven, in saving him from the appointment;" and that he had always had a "dread of what the generality of sober men" thought he desired--"dismal apprehension of the distresses which a call at Cambridge would bring" upon him.--He was sincere in those declarations, no doubt; but they show how completely he could blind himself to the past and even to the actual present. Mr. Peirce explains why the Corporation were so resolute in withholding their suffrages from Mather: "His contemporaries appear to have formed a very correct estimate of his character." "They saw, what posterity sees, that he was a man of wonderful parts, of immense learning, and of eminent piety and virtue." "They saw his weakness and eccentricities." "It is evident that his judgment was not equal to his other faculties; that his passions, which were naturally strong and violent, were not always under proper regulation; that he was weak, credulous, enthusiastic, and superstitious. His conversation is said to have been instructive and entertaining, in a high degree, though often marred by levity, vanity, imprudence and puns." For these reasons, he was deemed an unsuitable person for the Presidency of the College. XVIII. COTTON MATHER'S WRITINGS AND CHARACTER. While compelled--by the attempt of the writer in the _North American Review_ to reverse the just verdict of history in reference to Cotton Mather's connection with Salem Witchcraft--to show the unhappy part he acted and the terrible responsibility he incurred, in bringing forward, and carrying through its stages, that awful tragedy, and the unworthy means he used to throw that responsibility, afterwards, on others, I am not to be misled into a false position, in reference to this extraordinary man. I endorse the language of Mr. Peirce: "He possessed great vigor and activity of mind, quickness of apprehension, a lively imagination, a prodigious memory, uncommon facility in acquiring and communicating knowledge, with the most indefatigable application and industry; that he amassed an immense store of information on all subjects, human and divine." I follow Mr. Peirce still further, in believing that his natural temperament was pleasant and his sentiments of a benevolent cast: "that he was an habitual promoter and doer of good, is evident, as well from his writings as from the various accounts that have been transmitted respecting him." If the question is asked, as it naturally will be, how these admissions can be reconciled with the views and statements respecting him, contained in this article and in my book on witchcraft, the answer is: that mankind is not divided into two absolutely distinct and entirely separated portions--one good and the other evil. The good are liable to, and the bad are capable of, each receiving much into their own lives and characters, that belongs to the other. This interfusion universally occurs. The great errors and the great wrongs imputable to Cotton Mather do not make it impracticable to discern what was commendable in him. They may be accounted for without throwing him out of the pale of humanity or our having to shut our eyes to traits and merits other ways exhibited. The extraordinary precocity of his intellect--itself always a peril, often a life-long misfortune--awakened vanity and subjected him to the flattery by which it is fed. All ancestral associations and family influences pampered it. Such a speech as that made to him, at his graduation, by President Oakes, could not have failed to have inflated it to exaggerated dimensions. Clerical and political ambition was natural, all but instinctive, to one, whose father, and both whose grandfathers, had been powers, in the State as well as Church. The religious ideas, if they can be so called, in which he had been trained from childhood, in a form bearing upon him with more weight than upon any other person in all history, inasmuch, as they constituted the prominent feature of his father's reading, talk, thoughts, and writings, gave a rapid and overshadowing growth to credulity and superstition. A defect in his education, perhaps, in part, a natural defect, left him without any true logical culture, so that he seems, in his productions and conduct, not to discern the sequences of statements, the coherence of propositions, nor the consistency of actions, thereby entangling him in expressions and declarations that have the aspect of untruthfulness--his language often actually bearing that character, without his discerning it. His writings present many instances of this infirmity. Some have already been incidentally adduced. In his _Life of Phips_, avowing himself the author of the document known as the _Advice of the Ministers_, he uses this language: "By Mr. Mather the younger, as I have been informed." He had, in fact, never been _so informed_. He knew it by consciousness. Of course he had no thought of deceiving; but merely followed a habit he had got, of such modes of expression. So, also, when he sent a present of money and tracts to "poor and bad people," in Salem, with an anonymous letter to the Minister of the place, "desiring and empowering him to dispense the charity, _in his own name_, hoping thereby the _more to ingratiate his ministry with the people_," he looked only on one side of the proposal, and saw it in no other light than a benevolent and friendly transaction. It never occurred to him that he was suggesting a deceptive procedure and drawing the Minister into a false position and practice. When, in addition, we consider to what he was exposed by his proclivity to, and aspirations for, political power, the expedients, schemes, contrivances, and appliances, in which he thereby became involved in the then state of things in the Colony, and the connection which leading Ministers, although not admitted to what are strictly speaking political offices, had with the course of public affairs--his father, to an extent never equalled by any other Clergyman, before or since--we begin to estimate the influences that disastrously swayed the mind of Cotton Mather. Vanity, flattery, credulity, want of logical discernment, and the struggles between political factions, in the unsettled, uncertain, transition period, between the old and new Charters, are enough to account for much that was wrong, in one of Mather's temperament and passions, without questioning his real mental qualities, or, I am disposed to think, his conscious integrity, or the sincerity of his religious experiences or professions. But his chief apology, after all, is to be found in the same sphere in which his chief offences were committed. Certain topics and notions, in reference to the invisible, spiritual, and diabolical world, whether of reality or fancy it matters not, had, all his life long, been the ordinary diet, the daily bread, of his mind. It may, perhaps, be said with truth, that the theological imagery and speculations of that day, particularly as developed in the writings of the two Mathers, were more adapted to mislead the mind and shroud its moral sense in darkness, than any system, even of mythology, that ever existed. It was a mythology. It may be spoken of with freedom, now, as it has probably passed away, in all enlightened communities in Christendom. Satan was the great central character, in what was, in reality, a Pantheon. He was surrounded with hosts of infernal spirits, disembodied and embodied, invisible demons, and confederate human agents. He was seen in everything, everywhere. His steps were traced in extraordinary occurrences and in the ordinary operations of nature. He was hovering over the heads of all, and lying in wait along every daily path. The affrighted imagination, in every scene and mode of life, was conversant with ghosts, apparitions, spectres, devils. This prevalent, all but universal, exercise of credulous fancy, exalted into the most imposing dignity of theology and faith, must have had a demoralizing effect upon the rational condition and faculties of men, and upon all discrimination and healthfulness of thought. When error, in its most extravagant forms, had driven the simplicity of the Gospel out of the Church and the world, it is not to be wondered at that the mind was led to the most shocking perversions, and the conscience ensnared to the most indefensible actions. The superstition of that day was foreshadowed in the ferocious cannibal of classic mythology--a monster, horrific, hideous in mien, and gigantic in stature. It involved the same fate. The eye of the intellect was burned out, the light of reason extinguished--_cui lumen ademptum_. Having always given himself up to the contemplation of diabolical imaginations, Cotton Mather was led to take the part he did, in the witchcraft proceedings; and it cannot be hidden from the light of history. The greater his talents, the more earnestly he may, in other matters, have aimed to be useful, the more weighty is the lesson his course teaches, of the baleful effects of bewildering and darkening superstition. There is another, and a special, explanation to be given of the disingenuousness that appears in his writings. He was a master of language. He could express, with marvelous facility, any shade of thought. He could also make language conceal thought. No one ever handled words with more adroitness. He could mould them to suit his purposes, at will, and with ease. This faculty was called in requisition by the special circumstances of his times. It was necessary to preserve, at least, the appearance of unity among the Churches, while there was as great a tendency, then, as ever, to diversity of speculations, touching points of casuistical divinity or ministerial policy. The talent to express in formulas, sentiments that really differed, so as to obscure the difference, was needed; and he had it. He knew how to frame a document that would suit both sides, but, in effect, answer the purposes of one of them, as in the _Advice of the Ministers_. He could assert a proposition and connect with it what appeared to be only a judicious modification or amplification, but which, in reality, was susceptible of being interpreted as either more or less corroborating or contradicting it, as occasion might require. This was a sort of sleight of hand, in the use of words; and was noticed, at the time, as "legerdemain." He practised it so long that it became a feature of his style; and he actually, in this way, deceived himself as well as others. It is a danger to which ingenious and hair-splitting writers are liable. I am inclined to think that what we cannot but regard as patent misstatements, were felt by him to be all right, in consequence, as just intimated, of this acquired habit. His style is sprightly, and often entertaining. Neal, the author of the _History of the Puritans_, in a letter to the Rev. Benjamin Colman, after speaking with commendation of one of Cotton Mather's productions, says: "It were only to be wished that it had been freed from those puns and jingles that attend all his writings, before it had been made public."--_Massachusetts Historical Collections, I., v., 199._--Mr. Peirce, it has been observed, speaks of his "puns," in conversation. It is not certain, but that, to a reader now, these very things constitute a redeeming attraction of his writings and relieve the mind of the unpleasant effects of his credulity and vanity, pedantic and often far-fetched references, palpable absurdities, and, sometimes, the repulsiveness of his topics and matter. The Reviewer represents me as prejudiced against Cotton Mather. Far from it. Forty-three years ago, before my attention had been particularly called to his connection with alleged witchcrafts or with the political affairs of his times, I eulogized his "learning and liberality," in warm terms.--_Sermon at the Dedication of the House of Worship of the First Church, in Salem, Massachusetts, 48._ I do not retract what I then said. Cotton Mather was in advance of his times, in liberality of feeling, in reference to sectarian and denominational matters. He was, undoubtedly, a great student, and had read all that an American scholar could then lay his hands on. Marvellous stories were told of the rapidity of his reading. He was a devourer of books. At the same time, I vindicated him, without reserve, from the charge of pedantry. This I cannot do now. Observation and reflection have modified my views. He made a display, over all his pages, of references and quotations from authors then, as now, rarely read, and of anecdotes, biographical incidents, and critical comments relating to scholars and eminent persons, of whom others have but little information, and of many of whom but few have ever heard. This filled his contemporaries with wonder; led to most extravagant statements, in funeral discourses, by Benjamin Colman, Joshua Gee, and others; and made the general impression that has come down to our day. Without detracting from his learning, which was truly great, it cannot be denied that this superfluous display of it subjects him, justly to the imputation of pedantry. It may be affected where, unlike the case of Cotton Mather, there is, in reality, no very extraordinary amount of learning. It is a trick of authorship easily practised. Any one reading Latin with facility, having a good memory, and keeping a well-arranged scrap-book, needs less than half a dozen such books as the following, to make a show of learning and to astonish the world by his references and citations--the six folio volumes of Petavius, on Dogmatic Theology, and his smaller work, _Rationarium Temporum_, a sort of compendium or schedule of universal history; and a volume printed, in the latter half of the seventeenth century, at Amsterdam, compiled by Limborch, consisting of an extensive collection of letters to and from the most eminent men of that and the preceding century, such as Arminius, Vossius, Episcopius, Grotius, and many others, embracing a vast variety of literary history, criticism, biography, theology, philosophy, and ecclesiastical matters--I have before me the copy of this work, owned by that prodigy of learning, Dr. Samuel Parr, who pronounced it "a precious book;" and it may have contributed much to give to his productions, that air of rare learning that astonished his contemporaries. To complete the compendious apparatus, and give the means of exhibiting any quantity of learning, in fields frequented by few, the only other book needed is Melchior Adams's _Lives of Literati_, including all most prominently connected with Divinity, Philosophy, and the progress of learning and culture, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and down to its date, 1615. I have before me, the copy of this last work, owned by Richard Mather, and probably brought over with him, in his perilous voyage, in 1635. It was, successively, in the libraries of his son, Increase, and his grandson, Cotton Mather. At a corner of one of the blank leaves, it is noted, apparently in the hand of Increase Mather: "began Mar. 1, finished April 30, 1676." According to the popular tradition, Cotton would have read it, in a day or two. It contains interesting items of all sorts--personal anecdotes, critical comments, and striking passages of the lives and writings of more than one hundred and fifty distinguished men, such as Erasmus, Fabricius, Faustus, Cranmer, Tremellius, Peter Martyr, Beza, and John Knox. Whether Mather had access to either of the above-named works, except the last, is uncertain; but, as his library was very extensive, he sparing no pains nor expense in furnishing it, and these books were severally then in print and precisely of the kind to attract him and suit his fancy, it is not unlikely that he had them all. They would have placed in easy reach, much of the mass of amazing erudition with which he "entertained" his readers and hearers. Cotton Mather died on the thirteenth of February, 1728, at the close of his sixty-fifth year. Thirty-six years had elapsed since the fatal imbroglio of Salem witchcraft. He had probably long been convinced that it was vain to attempt to shake the general conviction, expressed by Calef, that he had been "the most active and forward of any Minister in the country in those matters," and acquiesced in the general disposition to let that matter rest. It must be pleasing to all, to think that his very last years were freed from the influences that had destroyed the peace of his life and left such a shade over his name. Having met with nothing but disaster from attempting to manage the visible as well as the invisible world, he probably left them both in the hands of Providence; and experienced, as he had never done, a brief period of tranquillity, before finally leaving the scene. His aspiration to control the Province had ceased. The object of his life-long pursuit, the Presidency of the College, was forever baffled. Nothing but mischief and misery to himself and others had followed his attempt to lead the great combat against the Devil and his hosts. It had fired his early zeal and ambition; but that fire was extinguished. The two ties, which more than all others, had bound him, by his good affections and his unhappy passions, to what was going on around him, were severed, nearly at the same time, by the death of his father, in 1723, and of his great and successful rival, Leverett, in 1724. Severe domestic trials and bereavements completed the work of weaning him from the world; and it is stated that, in his very last years, the resentments of his life were buried and the ties of broken friendships restored. The pleasantest intercourse took place between him and Benjamin Colman; men of all parties sought his company and listened to the conversation, which was always one of his shining gifts; he had written kindly about Dudley; and his end was as peaceful as his whole life would have been, but for the malign influences I have endeavored to describe, leading him to the errors and wrongs which, while faithful history records them, men must regard with considerate candor, as God will with infinite mercy. It is a curious circumstance, that the two great public funerals, in those early times, of which we have any particular accounts left, were of the men who, in life, had been so bitterly opposed to each other. When Leverett was buried, the cavalcade, official bodies, students, and people, "were fain to proceed near as far as Hastings' before they returned," so great was the length of the procession: the funeral of Mather was attended by the greatest concourse that had ever been witnessed in Boston. XIX. ROBERT CALEF'S WRITINGS AND CHARACTER. I approach the close of this protracted discussion with what has been purposely reserved. The article in the _North American Review_ rests, throughout, upon a repudiation of the authority of Robert Calef. Its writer says, "his faculties appear to us to have been of an inferior order." "He had a very feeble conception of what credible testimony is." "If he had not intentionally lied, he had a very imperfect appreciation of truth." He speaks of "Calef's disqualifications as a witness." He seeks to discredit him, by suggesting the idea that, in his original movements against Mather, he was instigated by pre-existing enmity--"Robert Calef, between whom and Mr. Mather a personal quarrel existed." "His personal enemy, Calef." There is no evidence of any difficulty, nor of any thing that can be called "enmity," between these two persons, prior to their dealings with each other, in the Margaret Rule case, commencing on the thirteenth of September, 1693. Mather himself states, in his Diary, that the enmity between them arose out of Calef's opposition to his, Mather's, views relating to the "existence and influences of the invisible world." So far as we have any knowledge, their acquaintance began at the date just mentioned. The suggestion of pre-existing enmity, therefore, gives an unfair and unjust impression. Robert Calef was a native of England, a young man, residing, first in Roxbury, and afterwards at Boston. He was reputed a person of good sense; and, from the manner in which Mather alludes to him, in one instance, of considerable means: he had, probably, been prosperous in his business, which was that of a merchant. Not a syllable is on record against his character, outside of his controversy with the Mathers; all that is known of him, on the contrary, indicates that he was an honorable and excellent person. He enjoyed the confidence of the people; and was called to municipal trusts, for which only reliable, discreet, vigilant, and honest citizens were selected, receiving the thanks of the Town for his services, as Overseer of the Poor. As he encountered the madness and violence of the people, when they were led by Cotton Mather, in the witchcraft delusion, it is a singular circumstance, constituting an honorable distinction, in which they shared, that, in a later period of their lives, they stood, shoulder to shoulder, breasting bravely together, another storm of popular fanaticism, by publicly favoring inoculation for the small-pox. He offered several of his children to be treated, at the hands of Dr. Boylston, in 1721. His family continued to bear up the respectability of the name, and is honorably mentioned in the municipal records. A vessel, named _London_, was a regular Packet-ship, between that port and Boston, and probably one of the largest class then built in America. She was commanded by "Robert Calef;" and, in the Boston _Evening Post_, of the second of May, 1774, "Dr. Calef of Ipswich" is mentioned among the passengers just arrived in her. Under his own, and other names, the descendants of the family of Calef are probably as numerous and respectable as those of the Mathers; and on that, as all other higher accounts, there is an equal demand for justice to their respective ancestors. It is related by Mather, that a young woman, named Margaret Rule, belonging to the North part of Boston, "many months after the General Storm of the late enchantments, was over," "when the country had long lain pretty quiet," was "seized by the Evil Angels, both as to molestations and accusations from the Invisible World". On the Lord's Day, the tenth of September, 1693, "after some hours of previous disturbance of the public assembly, she fell into odd fits," and had to be taken out of the congregation and carried home, "where her fits, in a few hours, grew into a figure that satisfied the spectators of their being supernatural." He further says, that, "from the 10th of September to the 18th, she kept an entire fast, and yet, she was to all appearance as fresh, as lively, as hearty, at the nine days end, as before they began. In all this time she had a very eager hunger upon her stomach, yet if any refreshment were brought unto her, her teeth would be set, and she would be thrown into many miseries. Indeed, once, or twice, or so, in all this time, her tormentors permitted her to swallow a mouthful of somewhat that might increase her miseries, whereof a spoonful of rum was the most considerable." The affair, of course, was noised abroad. It reached the ears of Robert Calef. On the thirteenth, after sunset, accompanied by some others, he went to the house, "drawn," as he says, "by curiosity to see Margaret Rule, and so much the rather, because it was reported Mr. Mather would be there, that night." They were taken into the chamber where she was in bed. They found her of a healthy countenance. She was about seventeen years of age. Increase and Cotton Mather came in, shortly afterwards, with others. Altogether, there were between thirty and forty persons in the room. Calef drew up Minutes of what was said and done. He repeated his visit, on the evening of the nineteenth. Cotton Mather had been with Margaret half an hour; and had gone before his arrival. Each night, Calef made written minutes of what was said and done, the accuracy of which was affirmed by the signatures of two persons, which they were ready to confirm with their oaths. He showed them to some of Mather's particular friends. Whereupon Mather preached about him; sent word that he should have him arrested for slander; and called him "one of the worst of liars." Calef wrote him a letter, on the twenty-ninth of September; and, in reference to the complaints and charges Mather was making, proposed that they should meet, in either of two places he mentioned, each accompanied by a friend, at which time he, Calef, would read to him the minutes he had taken, of what had occurred on the evenings of the thirteenth and nineteenth. Mather sent a long letter, not to be delivered, but read to him, in which he agreed to meet him, as proposed, at one of the places; but, in the mean time, on the complaint of the Mathers, for scandalous libels upon Cotton Mather, Calef was brought before "their Majesties Justice, and bound over to answer at Sessions." Mather, of course, failed to give him the meeting for conference, as agreed upon. On the twenty-fourth of November, Calef wrote to him again, referring to his failure to meet him and to the legal proceedings he had instituted; and, as the time for appearance in Court was drawing near, he "thought it not amiss to give a summary" of his views on the "great concern," as to which they were at issue. He states, at the outset, "that there are witches, is not the doubt." The Reviewer seizes upon this expression, to convey the idea that Calef was trying to conciliate Mather, and induce him to desist from the prosecution. Whoever reads the letter will see how unfair and untrue this is. Calef keeps to the point, which was not whether there were, or could be, witches; but whether the methods Mather was attempting, in the case of Margaret Rule, and which had been used in Salem, the year before, were legitimate or defensible. He was determined not to suffer the issue to be shifted. Upon receiving this letter, Mather, who had probably, upon reflection, begun to doubt about the expediency of a public prosecution, signified that he had no desire to press the prosecution; and renewed the proposal for a conference. Calef "waited on Sessions;" but no one appearing against him, was dismissed. The affair seemed, at this crisis, to be tending toward an amicable conclusion. But Mather failed to meet him; and, on the eleventh of January, 1694, Calef addressed him again, recapitulating what had occurred, sending him copies of his previous letters and also of the Minutes he had taken of what occurred on the evenings of the thirteenth and nineteenth of September, with these words: "REVEREND SIR: Finding it necessary, on many accounts, I here present you with the copy of that Paper, which has been so much misrepresented, to the end, that what shall be found defective or not fairly represented, if any such shall appear, they may be set right." This letter concludes in terms which show that, in that stage of the affair, Calef was disposed to treat Mather with great respect; and that he sincerely and earnestly desired and trusted that satisfaction might be given and taken, in the interview he so persistently sought--not merely in reference to the case of Margaret Rule, but to the general subject of witchcraft, on which they had different apprehensions: "I have reason to hope for a satisfactory answer to him, who is one that reverences your person and office." This language strikingly illustrates the estimate in which Ministers were held. Reverence for their office and for them, as a body, pervaded all classes. On the fifteenth of January, Mather replied complaining, in general terms, of the narrative contained in Calef's Minutes, as follows: "I do scarcely find any _one_ thing, in the whole paper, whether respecting my father or myself, either fairly or truly represented." "The narrative contains a number of mistakes and falsehoods which, were they wilful and designed, might justly be termed great lies." He then goes into a specification of a few particulars, in which he maintains that the Minutes are incorrect. On the eighteenth of January, Calef replied, reminding him that he had taken scarcely any notice of the general subject of diabolical agency; but that almost the whole of his letter referred to the Minutes of the meetings, on the thirteenth and nineteenth of September; and he maintains their substantial accuracy and shows that some of Mather's strictures were founded upon an incorrect reading of them. In regard to Mather's different recollection of some points, he expresses his belief that if his account, in the Minutes, "be not fully exact, it was as near as memory could bear away." He notices the fact that he finds in Mather's letter no objection to what related to matters of greatest concern. Mather had complained that the Minutes reported certain statements made by Rule, which had been used to his disadvantage; and Calef suggests, "What can be expected less from the father of lies, by whom, you judge, she was possest?" Appended to Mather's letter, are some documents, signed by several persons, declaring that they had seen Rule lifted up by an invisible force from the bed to the top of the room, while a strong person threw his whole weight across her, and several others were trying with all their might to hold her down or pull her back. Upon these certificates, Calef remarks: "Upon the whole, I suppose you expect I should believe it; and if so, the only advantage gained is, that what has been so long controverted between Protestants and Papists, whether miracles are ceased, will hereby seem to be decided for the latter; it being, for ought I can see, if so, as true a miracle as for iron to swim; and the Devil can work such miracles." Calef wrote to him again, on the nineteenth of February, once more praying that he would so far oblige him, as to give him his views, on the important subjects, for a right understanding of which he had so repeatedly sought a conference and written so many letters; and expressing his earnest desire to be corrected, if in error, to which end, if Mather would not, he indulged a hope that some others would, afford him relief and satisfaction. On the sixteenth of April, he wrote still another letter. In all of them, he touched upon the points at issue between them, and importuned Mather to communicate his views, fully, as to one seeking light. On the first of March, he wrote to a gentleman, an acknowledgment of having received, through his hands, "after more than a year's waiting," from Cotton Mather, four sheets of paper, not to be copied, and to be returned in a fortnight. Upon returning them, with comments, he desires the gentleman to request Mr. Mather not to send him any more such papers, unless he could be allowed to copy and use them. It seems that, in answer to a subsequent letter, Mather sent to him a copy of Richard Baxter's _Certainty of the World of Spirits_, to which, after some time, Calef found leisure to reply, expressing his dissent from the views given in that book, and treating the subject somewhat at large. In this letter, which closes his correspondence with Mather, he makes his solemn and severe appeal: "Though there is reason to hope that these diabolical principles have not so far prevailed (with multitudes of Christians), as that they ascribe to a witch and a devil the attributes peculiar to the Almighty; yet how few are willing to be found opposing such a torrent, as knowing that in so doing they shall be sure to meet with opposition to the utmost, from the many, both of Magistrates, Ministers, and people; and the name of Sadducee, atheist, and perhaps witch too, cast upon them, most liberally, by men of the highest profession in godliness; and, if not so learned as some of themselves, then accounted only fit to be trampled on, and their arguments (though both rational and scriptural) as fit only for contempt. But though this be the deplorable dilemma, yet some have dared, from time to time, (for the glory of God and the good and safety of men's lives, etc.) to run all these risks. And, that God who has said, 'My glory I will not give to another,' is able to protect those that are found doing their duty herein against all opposers; and, however otherwise contemptible, can make them useful in his own hand, who has sometimes chosen the weakest instruments that His power may be the more illustrious. "And now, Reverend Sir, if you are conscious to yourself, that you have, in your principles or practices, been abetting to such grand errors, I cannot see how it can consist with sincerity, to be so convinced, in matters so nearly relating to the glory of God and lives of innocents, and, at the same time, so much to fear disparagement among men, as to trifle with conscience and dissemble an approving of former sentiments. You know that word, 'He that honoreth me I will honor, and he that despiseth me shall be lightly esteemed.' But, if you think that, in these matters, you have done your duty, and taught the people theirs; and that the doctrines cited from the above mentioned book [_Baxter's_] are ungainsayable; I shall conclude in almost his words. He that teaches such a doctrine, if through ignorance he believes not what he saith, may be a Christian; but if he believes them, he is in the broad path to heathenism, devilism, popery, or atheism. It is a solemn caution (_Gal., i., 8_): 'But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.' I hope you will not misconstrue my intentions herein, who am, Reverend Sir, yours to command, in what I may." Resolute in his purpose to bring the Ministers, if possible, to meet the questions he felt it his duty to have considered and settled, and careful to leave nothing undone that he could do, to this end, he sought the satisfaction from others, he had tried, in vain, to obtain from Mather. On the eighteenth of March, 1695, he addressed a letter "To the Ministers, whether English, French, or Dutch," calling their attention to "the mysterious doctrines" relating to the "power of the Devil," and to the subject of Witchcraft. On the twentieth of September, he wrote to the Rev. Samuel Willard, invoking his attention to the "great concern," and his aid in having it fairly discussed. On the twelfth of January, 1696, he addressed "The Ministers in and near Boston," for the same purpose; and wrote a separate letter to the Rev. Benjamin Wadsworth. These documents were all composed with great earnestness, frankness, and ability; and are most creditable to his intelligence, courage, and sense of public duty. I have given this minute account of his proceedings with Mather and the Clergy generally, because I am impressed with a conviction that no instance can be found, in which a great question has been managed with more caution, deliberation, patience, manly openness and uprightness, and heroic steadiness and prowess, than this young merchant displayed, in compelling all concerned to submit to a thorough investigation and over-hauling of opinions and practices, established by the authority of great names and prevalent passions and prejudices, and hedged in by the powers and terrors of Church and State. It seems to be evident that he must have received aid, in some quarter, from persons conversant with topics of learning and methods of treating such subjects, to an extent beyond the reach of a mere man of business. In the First Volume of the _Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society_, Page 288, a Memorandum, from which I make an extract, is given, as found in Doctor Belknap's hand-writing, in his copy of Calef's book, in the collection, from the library of that eminent historian, presented by his heirs to that institution: "A young man of good sense, and free from superstition; a merchant in Boston. He was furnished with materials for his work, by Mr. Brattle of Cambridge, and his brother of Boston, and other gentlemen, who were opposed to the Salem proceedings.--E. P." The fact that Belknap endorsed this statement, gives it sufficient credibility. Who the "E. P." was, from whom it was derived, is not known. If it were either of the Ebenezer Pembertons, father or son, no higher authority could be adduced. But whatever aid Calef received, he so thoroughly digested and appropriated, as to make him ready to meet Mather or any, or all, the other Ministers, for conference and debate; and his title to the authorship of the papers remains complete. The Ministers did not give him the satisfaction he sought. They were paralyzed by the influence or the fear of the Mathers. Perhaps they were shocked, if not indignant, at a layman's daring to make such a movement against a Minister. It was an instance of the laying of unsanctified hands on the horns of the altar, such as had not been equalled in audacity, since the days of Anne Hutchinson, by any but Quakers. Calef, however, was determined to compel the attention of the world, if he could not that of the Ministers of Boston, to the subject; and he prepared, and sent to England, to be printed, a book, containing all that had passed, and more to the same purpose. It consists of several parts. PART I. is _An account of the afflictions of Margaret Rule_, written by Cotton Mather, under the title of _Another Brand plucked out of the Burning, or more Wonders of the Invisible World_. In my book, the case of Margaret Rule is spoken of as having occurred the next "Summer" after the witchcraft delusion in Salem. This gives the Reviewer a chance to strike at me, in his usual style, as follows: "The case did not occur in the Summer; the date is patent to any one who will look for it." Cotton Mather says that she "first found herself to be formally besieged by the spectres," on the tenth of September. From the preceding clauses of the same paragraph, it might be inferred that she had had fits before. He speaks of those, on the tenth, as "the first I'll mention." The word "formally," too, almost implies the same. This, however, must be allowed to be the smallest kind of criticism, although uttered by the Reviewer in the style of a petulant pedagogue. If Summer is not allowed to borrow a little of September, it will sometimes not have much to show, in our climate. The tenth of September is, after all, fairly within the astronomical Summer. The Reviewer says it will be "difficult for me to prove" that Margaret Rule belonged to Mr. Mather's Congregation, before September, 1693. Mather vindicates his taking such an interest in her case, on the ground that she was one of his "poor flock." The Reviewer raises a question on this point; and his controversy is with Mather, not with me. If Rule did not belong to the Congregation of North Boston, when Mather first visited her, his language is deceptive, and his apology, for meddling with the case, founded in falsehood. I make no such charge, and have no such belief. The Reviewer seems to have been led to place Cotton Mather in his own light--in fact, to falsify his language--on this point, by what is said of another Minister's having visited her, to whose flock she belonged, and whom she called, "Father." This was Increase Mather. We know he visited her; and it was as proper for him to do so, as for Cotton. They were associate Ministers of the same Congregation--that to which the girl belonged--and it was natural that she should have distinguished the elder, by calling him "Father." In contradiction of another of my statements, the Reviewer says: "Mr. Mather did not publish an account of the long-continued fastings, or any other account of the case of Margaret Rule." He seems to think that "published" means "printed." It does not necessarily mean, and is not defined as exclusively meaning, to put to press. To be "published," a document does not need, now, to be printed. Much less then. Mather wrote it, as he says, with a view to its being printed, and put it into open and free circulation. Calef publicly declared that he received it from "a gentleman, who had it of the author, and communicated it to use, with his express consent." Mather says, in a prefatory note: "I now lay before you a very entertaining story," "of one who been prodigiously handled by the evil Angels." "I do not write it with a design of throwing it presently into the press, but only to preserve the memory of such memorable things, the forgetting whereof would neither be pleasing to God, nor useful to men." The unrestricted circulation of a work of this kind, with such a design, was _publishing_ it. It was the form in which almost every thing was published in those days. If Calef had omitted it, in a book professing to give a true and full account of his dealings with Mather, in the Margaret Rule case, he would have been charged with having withheld Mather's carefully prepared view of that case. Mather himself considered the circulation of his "account," as a publication, for in speaking of his design of ultimately printing it himself, he calls it a "farther publication." PART II. embraces the correspondence between Calef, Mather, and others, which I have particularly described. PART III. is a brief account of the Parish troubles, at Salem Village. PART IV. is a correspondence between Calef and a gentleman, whose name is not given, on the subject of witchcraft, the latter maintaining the views then prevalent. PART V. is _An impartial account of the most memorable matters of fact, touching the supposed witchcraft in New England_, including the "Report" of the Trials given by Mather in his _Wonders of the Invisible World_. The work is prefaced by an _Epistle to the Reader_, couched in plain but pungent language, in which he says: "It is a great pity that the matters of fact, and indeed the whole, had not been done by some abler hand, better accomplished, and with the advantages of both natural and acquired judgment; but, others not appearing, I have enforced myself to do what is done. My other occasions will not admit any further scrutiny therein." A Postscript contains some strictures on the _Life of Sir Wm. Phips_, then recently printed, "which book," Calef says, "though it bear not the author's name, yet the style, manner, and matter are such, that, were there no other demonstration or token to know him by, it were no witchcraft to determine that Mr. Cotton Mather is the author of it." The real agency of Sir William Phips, in demolishing, with one stern blow, the Court of Oyer and Terminer, and treading out the witchcraft prosecutions, has never, until recently, been known. The Records of the Council, of that time, were obtained from England, not long since. They, with the General Court Records, Phips's letter to the Home Government--copied in this article--and the Diary of Judge Sewall, reveal to us the action of the brave Governor, and show how much that generation and subsequent times are indebted to him, for stopping, what, if he had allowed it to go on, would have come, no man can tell "where at last." Calef speaks of Sir William, kindly: "It is not doubted but that he aimed at the good of the people; and great pity it is that his Government was so sullied (for want of better information and advice from those whose duty it was to have given it) by the hobgoblin Monster, Witchcraft, whereby this country was nightmared and harassed, at such a rate as is not easily imagined." Such were the contents, and such the tone, of Calef's book. The course he pursued, his carefulness to do right and to keep his position fortified as he advanced, and the deliberate courage with which he encountered the responsibilities, connected with his movement to rid the country of a baleful superstition, are worthy of grateful remembrance. Mather received intelligence that Calef had sent his book to England, to be printed; and his mind was vehemently exercised in reference to it. He set apart the tenth of June, 1698, for a private Fast on the occasion; and he commenced the exercise of the day, by, "first of all, declaring unto the Lord" that he freely forgave Calef, and praying "the Lord also to forgive him." He "pleaded with the Lord," saying that the design of this man was to hurt his "precious opportunities of glorifying" his "glorious Lord Jesus Christ." He earnestly besought that those opportunities might not be "damnified" by Calef's book. And he finished by imploring deliverance from his calumnies. So "I put over my calumnious adversary into the hands of the righteous God." On the fifth of November, Calef's book having been received in Boston, Mather again made it the occasion of Fasting and Praying. His friends also spent a day of prayer, as he expresses it, "to complain unto God," against Calef, he, Mather, meeting with them. On the twenty-fifth of November, he writes thus, in his Diary: "The Lord hath permitted Satan to raise an extraordinary Storm upon my father and myself. All the rage of Satan, against the holy churches of the Lord, falls upon us. First Calf's and then Colman's, do set the people into a mighty ferment." The entries in his Diary, at this time, show that he was exasperated, to the highest degree, against Calef, to whom he applies such terms as, "a liar," "vile," "infamous," imputing to him diabolical wickedness. He speaks of him as "a weaver;" and, in a pointed manner calls him _Calf_, a mode of spelling his name sometimes practised, but then generally going out of use. The probability is that the vowel _a_, formerly, as in most words, had its broad sound, so that the pronunciation was scarcely perceptibly different, when used as a dissyllable or monosyllable. As the broad sound became disused, to a great extent, about this time, the name was spoken, as well as spelled, as a dissyllable, the vowel having its long sound. It was written, _Calef_, and thus printed, in the title-page of his book; so that Mather's variation of it was unjustifiable, and an unworthy taunt. It is unnecessary to say that a fling at a person's previous occupation, or that of his parents--an attempt to discredit him, in consequence of his having, at some period of his life, been a mechanic or manufacturer--or dropping, or altering a letter in his name, does not amount to much, as an impeachment of his character and credibility, as a man or an author. Hard words, too, in a heated controversy, are of no account whatever. In this case, particularly, it was a vain and empty charge, for Mather to call Calef _a liar_. In the matter of the account, the latter drew up, of what took place in the chamber of Margaret Rule: as he sent it to Mather for correction, and as Mather specified some items which he deemed erroneous, his declaration that all the rest was a tissue of falsehoods, was utterly futile; and can only be taken as an unmeaning and ineffectual expression of temper. So far as the truthfulness of Calef's statements, generally, is regarded, there is no room left for question. In his Diary for February, 1700, Mather says, speaking of the "calumnies that Satan, by his instrument, _Calf_, had cast upon" him and his father, "the Lord put it into the hearts of a considerable number of our flock, who are, in their temporal condition, more equal unto our adversary, to appear in our vindication." A Committee of seven, including John Goodwin, was appointed for this purpose. They called upon their Pastors to furnish them with materials; which they both did. The Committee drew up, as Mather informs us, in his Diary, a "handsome answer unto the slanders and libels of our slanderous adversary," which was forthwith printed, with the names of the members of the Committee signed to it. The pamphlet was entitled, _Some Few Remarks_, &c. Mather says of it: "The Lord blesses it, for the illumination of his people in many points of our endeavour to serve them, whereof they had been ignorant; and there is also set before all the Churches a very laudable example of a people appearing to vindicate their injured Pastors, when a storm of persecution is raised against them." This vindication is mainly devoted to the case of the Goodwin children, twelve years before, and to a defence of the course of Increase Mather, in England, in reference to the Old and New Charters. No serious attempt was made to controvert material points in Calef's book, relating to Salem Witchcraft. As it would have been perfectly easy, by certificates without number, to have exposed any error, touching that matter, and as no attempt of the kind was made, on this or any other occasion, the only alternative left is to accept Hutchinson's conviction, that "Calef was a fair relator" of that passage in our history. His book has, therefore, come down to us, bearing the ineffaceable stamp of truth. It was so regarded, at the time, in England, as shown in the manner in which it was referred to by Francis Hutchinson and Daniel Neal; and in America, in the way in which Thomas Hutchinson speaks of Calef, and alludes to matters as stated by him. I present, entire, the judgment of Dr. John Eliot, as given in his _Biographical Dictionary_. Bearing in mind that Eliot's work was published in 1806, the reader is left to make his own comments on the statement, in the _North American Review_, that I originated, in 1831, the unfavorable estimate of Cotton Mather's agency in the witchcraft delusion of 1692. It is safe to say that no higher authority can be cited than that of John Eliot: "CALEF, ROBERT, merchant, in the town of Boston, rendered himself famous by his book against Witchcraft, when the people of Massachusetts were under the most strange kind of delusion. The nature of this crime, so opposite to all common sense, has been said to exempt the accusers from observing the rules of common sense. This was evident from the trials of witches, at Salem, in 1692. Mr. Calef opposed facts, in the simple garb of truth, to fanciful representations; yet he offended men of the greatest learning and influence. He was obliged to enter into a controversy, which he managed with great boldness and address. His letters and defence were printed, in a volume, in London, in 1700. Dr. Increase Mather was then President of Harvard College; he ordered the wicked book to be burnt in the College yard; and the members of the Old North Church published a defence of their Pastors, the Rev. Increase and Cotton Mather. The pamphlet, printed on this occasion, has this title-page: _Remarks upon a scandalous book, against the Government and Ministry of New England, written by Robert Calef_, &c. Their motto was, _Truth will come off conqueror_, which proved a satire upon themselves, because Calef obtained a complete triumph. The Judges of the Court and the Jury confessed their errors; the people were astonished at their own delusion; reason and common sense were evidently on Calef's side; and even the present generation read his book with mingled sentiments of pleasure and admiration." Calef's book continues, to this day, the recognized authority on the subject. Its statements of matters of fact, not disputed nor specifically denied by the parties affected, living at the time, nor attempted to be confuted, then, and by them, never can be. The current of nearly two centuries has borne them beyond all question. No assault can now reach them. No writings of Mather have ever received more evidence of public interest or favor. First printed in London, Calef's volume has gone through four American editions; the last, in 1861, edited by Samuel P. Fowler, is presented in such eligible type and so readable a form, as to commend it to favorable notice. It may be safely said that few publications have produced more immediate or more lasting effects. It killed off the whole business of Margaret Rule. Mather abandoned it altogether. In 1694, he said "the forgetting thereof would neither be pleasing to God nor useful to men." Before Calef had done with him, he had dropped it forever. Calef's book put a stop to all such things, in New and Old England. It struck a blow at the whole system of popular superstition, relating to the diabolical world, under which it reels to this day. It drove the Devil out of the preaching, the literature, and the popular sentiments of the world. The traces of his footsteps, as controlling the affairs of men and interfering with the Providence of God, are only found in the dark recesses of ignorance, the vulgar profanities of the low, and a few flash expressions and thoughtless forms of speech. No one can appreciate the value of his service. If this one brave man had not squarely and defiantly met the follies and madness, the priestcraft and fanaticism, of his day; if they had been allowed to continue to sway Courts and Juries; if the pulpit and the press had continued to throw combustibles through society, and, in every way, inflame the public imaginations and passions, what limit can be assigned to the disastrous consequences? Boston Merchants glory in the names, on their proud roll of public benefactors, of men whose wisdom, patriotism, and munificence have upheld, adorned, and blessed society; but there is no one of their number who encountered more danger, showed more moral and intellectual prowess, or rendered more noble service to his fellow citizens and fellow men, every where, than ROBERT CALEF. I again ask attention to the language used in the _North American Review_, for April, 1869. "These views, respecting Mr. Mather's connection with the Salem trials, are to be found IN NO PUBLICATION OF A DATE PRIOR TO 1831, when Mr. Upham's _Lectures_ were published." Great as may be the power of critical journals, they cannot strike into non-existence, the recorded and printed sentiments of Brattle, the Hutchinsons, Neal, Watts, Bentley, Eliot, Quincy, and Calef. XX. MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS. CONCLUSION. There are one or two minor points, where the Reviewer finds occasion to indulge in his peculiar vein of criticism on my book, which it is necessary to notice before closing, in order to prevent wrong impressions being made by his article, touching the truth of history. A pamphlet, entitled, _Some Miscellany Observations on our present debates respecting Witchcraft, in a Dialogue between S and B_, has been referred to. It was published in Philadelphia, in 1692. Its printing was procured by Hezekiah Usher, a leading citizen of Boston, who, at the later stages of the prosecution, had been cried out upon, by the accusing girls, and put under arrest. Its author was understood to be the Rev. Samuel Willard. The Reviewer claims for its writer precedence over the Rev. John Wise, of Ipswich, and Robert Pike, of Salisbury, as having earlier opposed the proceedings. Wise headed a Memorial, in favor of John Proctor and against the use of spectral evidence, before the trials that took place on the fifth of August; and Pike's second letter to Judge Corwin was dated the eighth of August. The pamphlet attributed to Willard is a spirited and able performance; but seems to allow the use of spectral evidence, when bearing against persons of "ill-fame." Pike concedes all that believers in the general doctrines of witchcraft demanded, particularly the ground taken in the pamphlet attributed to Willard, and then proceeds, by the most acute technical logic, based upon solid common sense, to overturn all the conclusions to which the Court had been led. It was sent, by special messenger, to a Judge on the Bench, who was also an associate with Pike at the Council Board of the Province. Wise's paper was addressed to the Court of Assistants, the Supreme tribunal of the Province. The _Miscellany Observations_, appear to have been written after the trials. There is nothing, however, absolutely to determine the precise date; and they were published anonymously, in Philadelphia. The right of Wise and Pike to the credit of having first, by written remonstrance, opposed the proceedings, on the spot, cannot, I think, be taken away. The Reviewer charges me, in reference to one point, with not having thought it necessary to "pore over musty manuscripts, in the obscure chirography of two centuries ago." So far as my proper subject could be elucidated by it, I am constrained to claim, that this labor was encountered, to an extent not often attempted. The files of Courts, and State, County, Town, and Church records, were very extensively and thoroughly studied out. So far as the Court papers, belonging to the witchcraft Examinations and Trials, are regarded, much aid was derived from _Records of Salem Witchcraft, copied from the original documents_, printed in 1864, by W. Eliot Woodward. But such difficulty had been experienced in deciphering them, that the originals were all subjected to a minute re-examination. The same necessity existed in the use of the _Annals of Salem_, prepared and published by that most indefatigable antiquary, the late Rev. Joseph B. Felt, LL.D. In writing a work for which so little aid could be derived from legislative records or printed sources, bringing back to life a generation long since departed, and reproducing a community and transaction so nearly buried in oblivion, covering a wide field of genealogy, topography and chronology, embracing an indefinite variety of municipal, parochial, political, social, local, and family matters, and of things, names, and dates without number, it was, after all, impossible to avoid feeling that many errors and oversights might have been committed; and, as my only object was to construct a true and adequate history, I coveted, and kept myself in a frame gratefully to receive all corrections and suggestions, with a view of making the work as perfect as possible, in a reprint. As I was reasonably confident that the ground under me could stand, at all important points, any assaults of criticism, made in the ordinary way, it gave me satisfaction to hear, as I did, in voices of rumor reaching me from many quarters, that an article was about to appear in the _North American Review_ that would "demolish" my book. I flattered myself that, whether it did or not, much valuable information would, at least, be received, that would enable me to make my book more to my purpose, by making it more true to history. After the publication of the article, and before I could extricate myself from other engagements so far as to look into it, I read, in editorials, from week to week, in newspapers and journals, that I had been demolished. Surely, I thought, some great errors have been discovered, some precious "original sources" opened, some lost records exhumed, so that now, at last, no matter by whom, the story of Salem witchcraft can be told. My disappointment may be imagined, when, upon examining the article, it appeared that only one error had been discovered in my book, and that I now proceed to acknowledge. The Reviewer says: "Thomas Brattle, the Treasurer of Harvard College, (not William Brattle, a merchant of Boston, as Mr. Upham states) wrote, at the time, an account of Salem Witchcraft." This was not an error of the press, but wholly my own, as it is in the "copy," sent to the printers. In finding the interesting relations held by the Rev. William Brattle with the Salem Village Parish, after the death of Mr. Green, he being called to act as their patron and guide, and eventually marrying Green's widow, his name became familiar to my thoughts, and slipped through my pen. Every one who has gone through the drudgery of proof-reading knows what ridiculous and, sometimes, frightful, errors are detected, even in the "last revise." Upon opening the volume, when it came to me from the binder, I saw this error and immediately informed my publishers. It is pleasing to think that it cost the Reviewer no pains to discover it, as the right name stands out in the caption of the article, which is in capital letters--_Massachusetts Historical Collections, I., v., 61_--where alone he or I could have seen it. Mistakes in names and dates--always provoking, often inexplicable--are a fate to which all are liable. In a friendly, elaborate, and able notice of my book, in a newspaper of high character, it is stated that Salem Village, was the home of the family which gave General Rufus Putnam to "the War of 1812;" and George Burroughs is called "_John_" Burroughs. It is sometimes as hard to correct an error, as it is easy to fall into one. In pointing out my inadvertent mistake, the Reviewer unwittingly reproduces it. His sentence, just quoted, is liable to convey the idea that William Brattle was "a merchant of Boston." As he has been kind enough, all through his article, to tell what I ought to have read, and seen, and done, I venture to suggest that his sentence ought to have been constructed thus: "Thomas Brattle, a merchant of Boston, (not William, as Mr. Upham says.)" A queer fatality seems to have attended this attempt to correct my error. A reader of the _North American Review_ cannot fail to have noticed the manner in which the late Rev. Dr. Peabody, as well as myself, is held up to ridicule, for having called Cotton Mather, "Dr." when referring to any thing previous to his having received his Doctorate. Perhaps we were excusable. By usage, such honorary titles, and indeed all titles, are applied retrospectively, running back over the life, indefinitely. The _Encyclopædia Americana_, Eliot's _Biographical Dictionary_, and one of the last numbers of the _Historic Genealogical Register_, all give that title to Increase Mather, referring to a period anterior to its having been conferred upon him. The title was given by the learned editor of the _Massachusetts Historical Collections_, to Cotton Mather, in the caption of his letter to Governor Dudley. In the _Mather Papers_, letters written a score of years before that degree had been conferred on him, are endorsed "Doctor Cotton Mather." If the high authority of the _North American Review_ is to establish it, as a literary canon, that titles are never to be given, except in relation to a period subsequent to their conferment, writers must, hereafter, be very careful, when cursorily alluding to anything in the earlier lives of the Duke of Marlborough, Lord Castlereagh, the Duke of Wellington, Doctor Franklin, Doctor Channing, or Doctor Priestley, to say, Mr. Churchill, Mr. Stewart, Mr. Wellesley, Mr. Franklin, Mr. Channing, or Mr. Priestley. What renders this making of a great matter out of so trivial a point, by our Reviewer, amusing, as well as ridiculous, is that he is the first to break his own rule. "'Tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard." The critic is caught by his own captions criticism. In the passage, pointing out the error in the name of Brattle, he calls him, "at the time" he wrote the account of Salem witchcraft, "the Treasurer of Harvard College." Brattle held not then, and never had held, that honorable trust and title, though subsequently appointed to the office. It is not probable that Cotton Mather will ever find a biographer more kind and just than the late W. B. O. Peabody, whose mild and pleasant humor was always kept under the sway of a sweet spirit of candor and benevolence, and who has presented faithfully all the good points and services of his subject--_Sparks's American Biography, Vol. VI._ But the knight errant who has just centered the lists, brandishing his spear against all who have uttered a lisp against Cotton Mather, goes out of his way to strike at Doctor Peabody. He inserts, at the foot of one of his pages, this sneering Note: "Mr. Peabody says; 'Little did the venerable Doctor think,' etc. The venerable Doctor was twenty-nine years of age! and was no Doctor at all." Let us see how the ridicule of the Reviewer can be parried by his own weapons. Indulging myself, for a moment, in his style, I have, to say that "this Reviewer has never seen" Worcester's Dictionary, nor Webster's Dictionary, in neither of which does time or age enter into the definition of _venerable_. The latter gives the sense as follows: "Rendered sacred by religious associations, or being consecrated to God and to his worship; to be regarded with awe, and treated with reverence." Further: "This Reviewer should have been familiar enough with the original sources of information on this subject," to have known that it was common, in those days, to speak and think of such persons as Cotton Mather, although not old in years, as "venerable." All the customs, habits, ideas, and sentiments of the people invested them with character. Their costume and bearing favored it. The place they filled, and the power they exercised, imparted awe and veneration, whatever their years. All that age could contribute to command respect was anticipated and brought, to gather round the young Minister, when hands were laid upon him, at his ordination, by the title he thenceforth wore, of "Elder." By his talents, learning, and ambition, Cotton Mather had become recognized as a "Father in the Church;" and his aspect, as he stood in the pulpit of "North Boston," fulfilled the idea of venerableness. And we find that this very term was applied to the representative centre of a consecrated family, in the "Attestation" to the _Magnalia_, written by John Higginson, venerable in years, as in all things else, in some Latin lines of his composure: "_Venerande Mathere_." In the popular eye, Cotton Mather concentrated all the sacred memories of the great "decemvirate," as Higginson called it, of the Mathers, who had been set apart as Ministers of God; and he was venerable, besides, in the associations connected with the hallowed traditions of his maternal grandfather, whose name he bore, John Cotton. An object is _venerable_, whether it be a person, a building, a locality, or any thing else, around which associations gather, that inspire reverence. Age, in itself, suggests the sentiment, if its natural effect is not marred by unworthiness; so does wisdom. Virtue is venerable, whatever the age. So are all great traits of character; and so is every thing that brings to the mind consecrated thoughts and impressions. There was much in Mather's ancestry, name, and office, to suggest the term, without any regard whatever to his years. If applied to him by the people of that day, or by a writer now, in reference to any period of his life after entering the ministry and being classed with the Elders of the Church and the land, it was entirely legitimate and appropriate. While acknowledging the one error, detected by the Reviewer, I avail myself of the opportunity to apprise those who have my book of a probable error, not discovered by him. In Vol. II., p. 208, the name of "Elizabeth Carey" is given among those for whose arrest Warrants were issued, on the twenty-eighth of May, 1692. On page 238, the name "Elizabeth Cary" is again mentioned. The facts are, that Calef, (_p. 95_,) says: "MAY 24TH: Mrs. Carey, of Charlestown, was examined and committed. Her husband, Mr. Nathaniel Carey, has given account thereof, as also of her escape, to this effect." He then gives a letter going into much interesting detail, evidently written by her husband, and signed "Jonathan Carey." Hutchinson (_History, ii., 49_,) repeats Calef's account, calling the woman, "Elizabeth, wife of Nathaniel;" and gives the substance of her husband's letter, without attempting to explain, or even noticing, the discrepancy as to the name of the husband. Not knowing what to make of it, I examined the miscellaneous mass of papers, in the Clerk's office, and found, on a small scrip, the original Complaint, on which the Warrant was issued. It is the only paper, relating to the case, in existence, or at least to be found here. In it, the woman is described as "Elizabeth, the wife of Capt. Nathaniel Carey of Charlestown, mariner." This seemed to settle it and I let it pass, without attempting to explain how "Jonathan Carey" came to appear as the husband of the woman, in the letter signed by that name. I am now quite convinced that, in this case, I was misled, together with Calef and Hutchinson, by paying too much regard to "original sources." I am satisfied that the authority of the letter of "Jonathan Carey," must stand; that the woman was his wife, "Hannah;" and that the error is in the original "Complaint," here on file. The facts, probably, were, that, it being rumored in Charlestown that a Mrs. Carey was "cried out upon," without its being known which Mrs. Carey it was, Jonathan, determined to meet the matter at the threshold, took his wife directly to the spot. He arrived at Salem Village, in the midst of a great excitement, bringing together a crowd of people, half crazed under the terrors of the hour. Nobody knew him, which would not have been so likely to have been the case with his brother, Nathaniel, who was a more conspicuous character. He could find no one he knew, except Mr. Hale, who was formerly a Charlestown man, and whom he soon lost in the confusion of the scene. The accusing girls were on the look out, and noticing these two strangers, enquired their names, and were told, _Mr. and Mrs. Carey_. They had been crying out upon _Elizabeth Carey_, and thinking they had her, informed Thomas Putnam and Benjamin Hutchinson, two persons perfectly deluded by them, who instantly drew up the Complaint. In the hurry and horrors of the moment, the error in the names was not discovered: _Jonathan_ and _Hannah_ were sent forthwith to prison, from which they broke, and escaped to New York. The girls, thinking they had got _Mrs. Elizabeth Carey_ in prison, said no more about it. As Jonathan and his wife were safe, and beyond reach, the whole matter dropped out of the public mind; and Mrs. Elizabeth remained undisturbed. This is the only way in which I can account for the strange incongruity of the statements, as found in the "Complaint," Calef, and Hutchinson. The letter of Jonathan Carey is decisive of the point that it was "Hannah," his wife, that was arrested, and escaped. The error in Calef was not discovered by him, as his book was printed in London; and, under the general disposition to let the subject pass into oblivion, if possible, no explanation was ever given. I cannot let the letter of Jonathan Carey pass, without calling to notice his statement that, upon reaching New York, they found "His Excellency, Benjamin Fletcher, Esq., very courteous" to them. Whatever multiplies pleasant historical reminiscences and bonds of association between different States, ought to be gathered up and kept fresh in the minds of all. The fact that when Massachusetts was suffering from a fiery and bloody, but brief, persecution by its own Government, New York opened so kind and secure a shelter for those fortunate enough to escape to it, ought to be forever held in grateful remembrance by the people of the old Bay State, and constitutes a part of the history of the Empire State, of which she may well be proud. If the historians and antiquaries of the latter State can find any traces, in their municipal or other archives, or in any quarter, of the refuge which the Careys and others found among them, in 1692, they would be welcome contributions to our history, and strengthen the bonds of friendly union. The Reviewer seems to imagine that, by a stroke of his pen, he can, at any time, make history. Referring to Governor Winthrop, in connection with the case of Margaret Jones, forty-two years before, he says that he "presided at her Trial; signed her Death-warrant; and wrote the report of the case in his journal." The fact that, in his private journal, he has a paragraph relating to it, hardly justifies the expression "wrote the report of the case." Where did he, our Reviewer, find authority for the positive statement that Winthrop "signed the Death-warrant?" We have no information, I think, as to the use of Death-warrants, as we understand such documents to be, in those days; and especially are we ignorant as to the official who drew and signed the Order for the execution of a capital convict. Sir William Phips, although present, did not sign the Death-warrant of Bridget Bishop. The Reviewer expresses, over and over again, his great surprise at the view given in my book of Cotton Mather's connection with Salem witchcraft. It is quite noticeable that his language, to this effect, was echoed through that portion of the Press committed to his statements. My sentiments were spoken of as "surprising errors." What I had said was, as I have shown, a mere continuation of an ever-received opinion; and it was singular that it gave such a widespread simultaneous shock of "surprise." But that shock went all around. I was surprised at their surprise; and may be allowed, as well as the Reviewer, to express and explain that sensation. It was awakened deeply and forcibly by the whole tenor of his article. He was the first reader of my book, it having been furnished him by the Publishers before going to the binder. He wrote an elaborate, extended, and friendly notice of it, in a leading paper of New York city, kindly calling it "a monument of historical and antiquarian research;" "a narrative as fascinating as the latest novel;" and concluding thus: "Mr. Upham deserves the thanks of the many persons interested in psychological inquiries, for the minute details he has given of these transactions." Some criticisms were suggested, in reference to matters of form in the work; _but not one word was said about Cotton Mather_. The change that has come over the spirit of his dream is more than surprising. The reference, in the foregoing citation, to "psychological enquiries," suggests to me to allude, before closing, to remarks made by some other critics. I did not go into the discussion, with any particularity, of the connection, if any, between the witchcraft developments of 1692 and modern spiritualism, in any of its forms. A fair and candid writer observes that "the facts and occurrences," as I state them, involve difficulties which I "have not solved." There are "depths," he continues, "in this melancholy episode, which his plummet has not sounded, by a great deal." This is perfectly true. With a full conviction that the events and circumstances I was endeavoring to relate, afforded more material for suggestions, in reference to the mysteries of our spiritual nature, than any other chapter in history, I carefully abstained, with the exception of a few cautionary considerations hinting at the difficulties that encompass the subject, from attempting to follow facts to conclusions, in that direction. My sole object was to bring to view, as truthfully, thoroughly, and minutely, as I could, the phenomena of the case, as bare historical facts, from which others were left, to make their own deductions. This was the extent of the service I desired to render, in aid of such as may attempt to advance the boundaries of the spiritual department of science. I was content, and careful, to stay my steps. Feeling that the story I was telling led me along the outer edge of what is now knowledge--that I was treading the shores of the _ultima Thule_, of the yet discovered world of truth--I did not venture upon the world beyond. My only hope was to afford some data to guide the course of those who may attempt to traverse it. Other hands are to drop the plummet into its depths, and other voyagers feel their way over its surface to continents that are waiting, as did this Western Hemisphere, for ages upon ages, to be revealed. The belief that fields of science may yet be reached, by exploring the connection between the corporeal and spiritual spheres of our being, in which explorations the facts presented in the witchcraft Delusion may be serviceable, suggested one of the motives that led me to dedicate my volumes to the Professor of Physiology in Harvard University. The Reviewer concludes his article by saying that the "History of Salem witchcraft is as yet unwritten," but, that I must write it; and he tells me how to write it. He advises a more concise form, although his whole article consists of complaints because I avoided discussions and condensed documents, which, if fully gone into and spread out at length, would have swelled the dimensions of the work, as well as broken the thread of the narrative. It must be borne in mind, that a reader can only be held to the line of a subject, by an occasional retrospection and reiteration of what must be constantly kept in view. The traveler needs, at certain points and suitable stages, to turn and survey the ground over which he has passed. A condensation that would strike out such recapitulations and repetitions, might impair the effect of a work of any kind, particularly, of one embracing complicated materials. The Reviewer says that, "by all means, I must give references to authorities," when I quote. This, as a general thing, is good advice. But it must be remembered that my work consists of three divisions. The History of Salem Village constitutes the First. This is drawn, almost wholly, from papers in the offices of registry, and from judicial files of the County, to which references would be of little use, and serve only to cumber and deform the pages. Everything can be verified by inspection of the originals, and not otherwise. The Second Part is a cursory, general, abbreviated sketch or survey of the history of opinions, not designed as an authoritative treatise for special students, but to prepare the reader for the Third Part, the authorities for which are, almost wholly, Court files. As to the remaining suggestion, that I must divide the work into Chapters, with headings, there is something to be said. When the nature of an historical work admits of its being invested with a dramatic interest--and all history is capable, more or less, of having that attraction--where minute details can fill up the whole outline of characters, events, and scenes, all bearing the impress of truth and certainty, real history, being often stranger than fiction, may be, and ought to be, so written as to bring to bear upon the reader, the charm, and work the spell, of what is called romance. The same solicitude, suspense, and sensibilities, which the parties, described, experienced, can be imparted to the reader; and his feelings and affections keep pace with the developments of the story, as they arise with the progress of time and events. Headings to Chapters, in historical works, capable of this dramatic element, would be as out of place, and as much mar and defeat the effect, as in a novel. As for division into Chapters. This was much thought of and desired; but the nature of the subject presented obstacles that seem insurmountable. One topic necessarily ran into, or overlapped, another. No chronological unity, if the work had been thus cut up, could have been preserved; and much of the ground would have had to be gone over and over again. Examinations, Trials, Executions were, often, all going on at once. There is danger of a diminution of the continuous interest of some works, thus severed into fragments. There are, indeed, animals that will bear to be chopped up indefinitely, and each parcel retain its life: not so with others. The most important of all documents have suffered injury, not to be calculated, in their attractiveness and impressiveness, by being divided into Chapter and Verse, in many instances without reference to the unity of topics, or coherence of passages; dislocating the frame of narratives, and breaking the structure of sentences. We all know to what a ridiculous extent this practice was, for a long period, carried in Sermons, which were "divided" to a degree of artificial and elaborate dissection into "heads," that tasked to the utmost the ingenuity of the preacher, and overwhelmed the discernment and memory of the hearer. He, in fact, was thought the ablest sermonizer, who could stretch the longest string of divisions, up to the "nineteenthly," and beyond. This fashion has a prominent place among _The Grounds and Occasions of the Contempt of the Clergy and Religion_, by John Eachard, D.D., a work published in London, near the commencement of the last century--one of the few books, like Calef's, which have turned the tide, and arrested the follies, of their times. In bold, free, forcible satire, Eachard's book stands alone. Founded on great learning, inspired by genuine wit, its style is plain even to homeliness. It struck at the highest, and was felt and appreciated by the lowest. It reinforced the pulpit, simplified the literature, eradicated absurdities of diction and construction, and removed many of the ecclesiastic abuses, of its day. No work of the kind ever met with a more enthusiastic reception. I quote from the Eleventh Edition, printed in 1705: "We must observe, that there is a great difference in texts. For all texts come not asunder, alike; for sometimes the words naturally fall asunder; sometimes they drop asunder; sometimes they melt; sometimes they untwist; and there be some words so willing to be parted, that they divide themselves, to the great ease and rejoicing of the Minister. But if they will not easily come in pieces, then he falls to hacking and hewing, as if he would make all fly into shivers. The truth of it is, I have known, now and then, some knotty texts, that have been divided seven or eight times over, before they could make them split handsomely, according to their mind." An apology to those critics who have complained of my not dividing my book into Chapters, is found in the foregoing passage. I tried to do it, but found it a "knotty" subject, and, like the texts Eachard speaks of, "would not easily come in pieces." With all my efforts, it could not be made to "split handsomely." This, and all other suggestions of criticism, are gratefully received and respectfully considered. But, after all, it will not be well to establish any canons, to be, in all cases, implicitly obeyed, by all writers. Much must be left to individual judgment. Regard must be had to the nature of subjects. Instead of servile uniformity, variety and diversity must be encouraged. In this way, only, can we have a free, natural, living literature. In passing, I would say, that in meeting the demand made upon me by the Reviewer, to rewrite the history of Salem witchcraft, I shall avail myself of the opportunity to correct the single error he has mentioned. In a re-issue of the work, I shall endeavor to make it as accurate as possible. Anything that is found to be wrong shall be rectified. The work, in the different forms in which it was published, is nearly out of print. When issued again, it will be in a less costly style and more within the reach of all. From the result of my own continued researches and the suggestions of others, I feel inclined to the opinion that no very considerable alterations will be made; and that subsequent editions, will not impair the authority or value of the work, as originally published in 1867. In preparing the statement, now brought to a close, the only object has been to get at, and present, the real facts of history. Nothing, merely personal, affecting the writer in the _North American Review_ or myself, can be considered as of comparative moment. Many of the expressions used by that writer, as to what I have "seen" or "read" and the like, are, it must be confessed, rather peculiar; but of very little interest to the public. Any notice, taken of them, has been incidental, and such as naturally arose in the treatment of the subject. In parting with the reader, I venture so far further to tax his patience, as to ask to take a retrospective glance, together, over the outlines of the road we have travelled. In connection with some preliminary observations, the first step in the argument was to show the relation of the Mathers, father and son, to the superstitions of their times culminating in the Witchcraft Delusion of 1692, and their share of responsibility therefor. The several successive stages of the discussion were as follows:--The connection of Cotton Mather with alleged cases of Witchcraft in the family of John Goodwin of Boston, in 1688; and said Goodwin's certificates disposed of: Mather's idea of Witchcraft, as a war waged by the Devil against the Church; and his use of prayer: The connection between the cases, at Boston in 1688, and at Salem in 1692: The relation of the Mathers to the Government of Massachusetts, in 1692: The arrival of Sir William Phips; the impression made upon him by those whom he first met; his letter to the Government in England: The circumstances attending the establishment of the Special Court of Oyer and Terminer, and the precipitance with which it was put into operation: Its proceedings, conducted by persons in the interest of the Mathers: Spectral Testimony; and the extent to which it was authorized by them to be received at the Trials, as affording grounds of enquiry and matter of presumption: Letter of Cotton Mather to one of the Judges: The Advice of the Ministers: Cotton Mather's probable plan for dealing with spectral evidence: His views on that subject, as gathered from his writings and declarations: The question of his connection with the Examinations before the Magistrates: His connection with the Trials and Executions: His Report of five of the Trials: His book entitled _The Wonders of the Invisible World_; its design; the circumstances attending its preparation for the press; and the views, feelings, and expectations of its author, exhibited in extracts from it: Increase Mather's _Cases of Conscience_: The suppression of the Court of Oyer and Terminer, by Sir William Phips: Cotton Mather's views subsequent to 1692, as gathered from his writings. In traversing the field thus marked out, I submit that it has become demonstrated that, while Cotton Mather professed concurrence in the generally-received judgment of certain writers against the reception of spectral evidence, he approved of the manner in which it had been received by the Judges, at the Salem Trials, and eulogized them throughout, from the beginning to the end of the prosecution, and ever after. He vindicated, as a general principle, the _admission_ of that species of testimony, on the ground of its being a sufficient basis of enquiry and presumption, and needing only some additional evidence,--his own Report and papers on file show how little was required--to justify conviction and execution. This has been proved, at large, by an examination of his writings and actions, and is fully admitted by him, in various forms of language, on several occasions--substantially, in his statement, that Spectral Testimony was the "chief" ground upon which "divers" were condemned and executed, and, explicitly, in his letter to Foster, in which he says that "a very great use is to be made" of it, in the manner and to the extent just mentioned; and that, when thus used, the "use for which the Great God intended it," will be made. In the same passage, he commends the Judge for having admitted it; and declares they had the divine blessing thereupon, inasmuch as "God strangely sent other convincing testimony," to corroborate, and thereby render it sufficient to convict. In his Address to the General Assembly, years afterward, he fully admits that the Judges, in 1692, whose course he applauded at the time, allowed persons to be adjudged guilty, "merely because" of Spectral Testimony. My main purpose and duty, in preparing this article, have been to disprove the absolute and unlimited assertions made by the contributor to the _North American Review_, that Cotton Mather was opposed to the _admission_ of Spectral Evidence; "denounced it as illegal, uncharitable, and cruel;" and "ever testified against it, both publicly and privately;" and that the _Advice of the Ministers_, drawn up by him, "was _very specific_ in _excluding_ Spectral Testimony." It has been thought proper, also, to vindicate the truth of history against the statements of this Reviewer, on some other points; as, for instance, by showing that the opinion of Cotton Mather's particular responsibility for the Witchcraft Tragedy, instead of originating with me, was held at the time, at home and abroad, and has come down, through an unbroken series of the most accredited writers, to our day; and that the influence of the Mathers never recovered from the shock given it, by the catastrophe of 1692. The apology for the great length of this article is, that the high authority justly accorded to the _North American Review_, demanded, in controverting any position taken in its columns, a thorough and patient investigation, and the production, in full, of the documents belonging to the question. It has further been necessary, in order to get at the predominating tendency and import of Cotton Mather's writings, to cite them, in extended quotations and numerous extracts. To avoid the error into which the Reviewer has fallen, the peculiarity of Mather's style must be borne in mind. Opposite drifts of expression appear in different writings and in different parts of the same writing; and, not infrequently, the clauses of the same passage have contrary bearings. He often palters, with himself as well as others, in a double sense. Quotations, to any amount, from the writings of either of the Mathers, of passages having the appearance of discountenancing spectral evidence, can be of no avail in sustaining the positions taken by the Reviewer, because they are qualified by the admission, that evidence of that sort might and ought, notwithstanding, to be received as a basis for enquiry and ground of presumption, and, if supported by other ordinary testimony, was sufficient for conviction. That other testimony, when adduced, was, as represented by Mather, clothed with a divine authority; having, as he says, been supplied by a special Providence, and been justly regarded, by the "excellent Judges," as "an encouraging presence of God, strangely sent in." It could, indeed, in the then state of the public mind, always be readily obtained. No matter how small in quantity or utterly irrelevant, it was sufficient for conviction coming after the Spectral Evidence. To minds thus subdued and overwhelmed with "awe," trifles light as air were confirmation strong. It is to be presumed that his warmest admirers would not think of comparing Cotton Mather with his transatlantic correspondent and coadjutor, as to force of character, power of mind, or the moral and religious value of their writings. Yet there were some striking similarities between them. They were men of undoubted genius and great learning. They were all their lives awake to whatever was going on around them. Earnestly interested, and actively engaging, in all questions of theology and government, they both rushed forthwith and incontinently to the press, until their publications became too voluminous and numerous to be patiently read or easily counted. Of course, what they printed was imbued with the changing aspects of the questions they handled and open to the imputation of inconsistency, of which Baxter was generally disregardful and Mather mostly unconscious. Sir Roger L'Estrange was one of the great wits and satirists of his age. His style was rough and reckless. A vehement and fierce upholder of the doctrines of arbitrary government, he was knighted by James the Second. His controversial writings, having all the attractions of unscrupulous invective and homely but cutting sarcasm, were much patronized by the great, and extensively read by the people. All Nonconformists and Dissenters were the objects of his coarse abuse. He issued an ingenious pamphlet with this title: "_The Casuist uncased; in a Dialogue betwixt Richard and Baxter, with a moderator between them, for quietness sake._" The two disputants range over a variety of subjects, and are quite vehement against each other; the Moderator interposing to keep them to the point, preserve order in the debate, and, as occasion required, reduce them to "quietness." At one stage of the altercation, he exclaimed: "If an Angel from Heaven, I perceive, were employed to bring you two to an agreement, he should lose his labor." Great was the amusement of all classes to find that the language uttered by the combatants, on each side, was taken from one or another of writings published by Richard Baxter, during his diversified controversial life. If any skilful and painstaking humorist of our day, should feel so disposed, he might, by wading through the sea of Cotton Mather's writings, pick up material enough for the purpose; and, by cutting in halves paragraphs and sentences, entertain us in the same way, by giving to the public, through the Press, "_A Dialogue betwixt COTTON and MATHER, with a Moderator between them for quietness sake._" THE HISTORICAL MAGAZINE; AND Notes and Queries concerning the Antiquities, History and Biography of America. This Magazine was commenced in January, 1857, for the purpose of furnishing a medium of intercommunication between Historical Societies, Authors, and Students of History, and supplying an interesting and valuable journal--a miscellany of American History. On the first of July, 1866, it passed into the hands of the undersigned, by whom it is still conducted, with the support and aid of a large body of intelligent readers, and the assistance of the foremost historical writers in the country. Among the contributors to the past volumes are Hon. Edward Everett, Hon. George Bancroft, Jared Sparks, LL.D., Hon. Peter Force, Hon. James Savage, Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, Wm. Gilmore Simms, Esq., Henry R. Stiles, M.D., Geo. Gibbs, Esq., Hon. John R. Brodhead, J. Carson Brevoort, Esq., Henry R. Schoolcraft, Esq., Benson J. Lossing, Esq., Hon. Henry C. Murphy, Samuel G. Drake, Esq., Sebastian F. Streeter, Esq., Alfred B. Street, Esq., E. B. O'Callaghan, LL.D., Prof. W. W. Turner, Buckingham Smith, Esq., Evert A. Duyckinck, Esq., Brantz Mayer, Esq., Hon. John R. Bartlett, Samuel F. Haven, Esq., Dr. R. W. Gibbs, John W. Francis, M.D., D. G. Brinton, M.D., George H. Moore, Esq., John G. Shea, LL.D., Rev. E. H. Gillett, D.D., John Ward Dean, Esq., Henry O'Reilly, Esq., Rev. Pliny H. White, Hon. E. E. Bourne, and Hon. Thomas Ewbank. The eleven volumes already published contain an immense mass of matter relating to American History and kindred studies, such as cannot be found collected elsewhere, rendering it a work absolutely necessary in all libraries. Few historical works now appear that do not acknowledge indebtedness to it. The Contents of the Historical Magazine may be generally classed under the following heads: I. Original Papers, involving points of research in historical studies, presenting new facts, or the discussion of Federal and Local topics of interest, in Essays, by writers versed in American History. II. The Collection of Original Letters, Correspondence, Diaries, &c., hitherto unpublished, of Americans of Eminence. III. Biographical and Obituary Notices of persons distinguished in the service of the country, whether in office, political life, literature, or science. IV. Accurate reports of the proceedings of the numerous American Historical, Antiquarian, Geographical, Numismatic, and other kindred Societies. V. Notes and Queries of curious and important topics, new and old, with replies, by a large body of contributors. VI. Reprints of rare and interesting Tracts, old Poems out of print, &c., &c. VII. Miscellany and Anecdotes. VIII. Carefully prepared and impartial Notices of New Books and Engravings, especially those relating to the History, Antiquities, or Biography of America. IX. Historical and Literary Intelligence, Announcements, &c. The Historical Magazine is printed on fine quality of paper, similar in form and size to this sheet, and published in monthly numbers, of sixty-four pages each, at FIVE DOLLARS A YEAR. Single numbers SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS. HENRY B. DAWSON, Morrisania, N. Y. CONTRIBUTORS TO VOLUME I, NEW SERIES. BERGEN, Hon. TUNIS, Bay Side, L. I. BRINTON, Doctor D. G., Westchester, Pennsylvania, the celebrated Ethnologist. BRODHEAD, Hon. J. ROMEYN, the historian of New York. DAWSON, HENRY B., author of _Battles of the United States_, etc. DEAN, JOHN WARD, Secretary of the New England Historic-Genealogical Society. ELLIS, Rev. GEORGE B., D.D., Charlestown, Massachusetts. EWBANK, Hon. THOMAS, Vice-president of the American Ethnological Society. FORCE, General PETER, Washington, D. C. GILLETT, Rev. E. H., D.D., the historian of the Presbyterian Church. KAPP, FRIEDRICH, the biographer of Steuben, De Kalb, etc. LAWRENCE, EUGENE, Columbia College, New York. 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DEARBORN, General HENRY, of Massachusetts. DOWNING, EMANUAL, of England. DRAYTON, WILLIAM H., of South Carolina. DROWNE, Doctor SOLOMON, of Rhode Island. FITZHUGH, WILLIAM, of Virginia. FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN, of Pennsylvania. GERRY, ELBRIDGE, of Massachusetts. GREENE, General NATHANIEL, of Rhode Island. HOOPER, A. M. HOWELL, DAVID, of New Jersey. HUMPHREYS, Colonel DAVID, of Connecticut. HUNTINGTON, General JED., of Connecticut. JAY, JOHN, of New York. JEFFERSON, THOMAS, of Virginia. KENDALL, AMOS, [on the Jackson Cabinet.] KING, RUFUS, of New York. [On the Constitution of New York.] LA FAYETTE, General. LAURENS, HENRY, of South Carolina. "MASON and DIXON," the Surveyors. MILLER, General JAMES, of New Hampshire. MOOERS, General BENJAMIN, of Plattsburg, New York. MORRIS, ROBERT, of Pennsylvania. PAGET, Admiral, R.N. QUITMAN, General, of Mississippi. [Autobiographical letter.] RANDOLPH, JOHN, of Roanoke, Virginia. RIKER, Recorder RICHARD, of New York. RUSH, Doctor BENJAMIN, of Pennsylvania. TALLMADGE, Major BENJAMIN, of Connecticut. TOMPKINS, DANIEL D., of New York. VAN BUREN, MARTIN, of New York. WASHINGTON, General GEORGE. WHEELWRIGHT, Rev. JOHN, of Boston. [The celebrated Fast-day Sermon, for preaching which he was banished from Massachusetts.] WOLCOTT, OLIVER. CONTRIBUTORS TO VOLUME II, NEW SERIES. 1.--ORIGINAL ARTICLES. Hon. E. E. BOURNE, President of the Maine Historical Society. Rev. PLINY H. WHITE, President of the Vermont Historical Society. Hon. J. HAMMOND TRUMBULL, President of the Connecticut Historical Society. Hon. THOMAS EWBANK, Vice-president of the American Ethnological Society. GEORGE HENRY MOORE, Librarian of the New York Historical Society. Rev. Doctor BALLARD, Secretary of the Maine Historical Society. S. F. HAVEN, Librarian of the American Antiquarian Society. H. A. HOLMES, State Librarian, Albany. E. B. O'CALLAGHAN, LL.D. J. GILMARY SHEA, LL.D., New York City. Doctor E. H. DAVIS, the Ethnologist. Doctor D. G. BRINTON, Westchester, Penn. J. WINGATE THORNTON, Boston. Professor GEORGE W. GREENE, of Rhode Island. Hon. WILLIAM WILLIS, Portland, Me. W. GILMORE SIMMS, LL.D., of South Carolina. WILLIAM SWINTON, New York City. WILLIAM H. WHITMORE, Boston. Rev. E. H. GILLETT, D.D., Harlem, N. Y. Professor E. F. ROCKWELL, Davidson College, N. C. J. R. SIMMS, Fort Plain, N. Y. JAMES RIKER, Harlem, N. Y. CHARLES EDWARDS, New York. Captain E. C. BOYNTON, U.S.A., West Point. Colonel THOMAS F. DE VOE, "the historical Butcher." Captain GEORGE HENRY PREBLE, U.S.N. JOSEPH SABIN, New York. HENRY O'REILLY, New York. Doctor JOSEPH COMSTOCK, Liberty Hill, Conn. J. WILLIAMSON, Belfast, Me. Rev. A. H. QUINT, D.D., New Bedford, Mass. RUDOLPHE GARRIGUE, Morrisania, N. Y. Editors of the _Methodist_, New York. 2.--INEDITED ARTICLES. SAMUEL L. BOARDMAN, Augusta, Me. F. W. SEWARD, Assistant Secretary of State of the United States. THE CORPORATION OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK. BUCKINGHAM SMITH, St. Augustine, Fla. Professor GEORGE W. GREENE. Hon. JOHN SULLIVAN, Exeter, N. H. Professor RAU, New York. E. F. DE LANCEY, New York. 3.--WRITERS OF INEDITED PAPERS. Captain HENRY SEWALL, of the Revolutionary Army. SEU-KI-YU, Governor of Fuh-Kien, China. HARRISON GRAY OTIS. JEFFERSON DAVIS. JOHN ADAMS. General WADE HAMPTON, U.S.A. The Citizen GENET. General WASHINGTON. Colonel DAVID CROCKETT. General LA FAYETTE. RUFUS KING. General WINFIELD SCOTT, U.S.A. THOMAS JEFFERSON. Colonel HENRY MURRAY, R.A. CHARLES V., of Spain. Colonel DAVID HUMPHREYS, of the Revolutionary Army. Governor BELCHER, of Massachusetts. Reverend J. H. LIVINGSTON, D.D. CHARLES CARROLL, of Carrollton. SAMUEL HUNTINGTON, President of the Continental Congress. General WILLIAM HEATH, of the Revolutionary Army. General M. GIST, of the same. Colonel BENJAMIN TALLMADGE, of the same. Doctor B. RUSH. Governor THOMAS NELSON, of Virginia. SOLOMON DROWNE, M.D., of the Revolutionary Army. Lieutenant-governor COLDEN, of New York. General JOHN SULLIVAN, of the Revolutionary Army. HENRY CLAY. WILLIAM J. DUANE. Colonel RICHARD M. JOHNSON. JARED SPARKS, LL.D. Hon. ALEXANDER H. EVERETT. Major HENRY LEE. AARON BURR. JAMES MUNROE. ETC., ETC., ETC. CONTRIBUTORS TO VOLUME III, NEW SERIES. AMERICAN ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETY, Worcester, Mass. BALLARD, D.D., Rev. EDWARD, Brunswick, Maine. Secretary of the Maine Historical Society. BALLARD, FRANK W., New York City. BARTLETT, Hon. J. RUSSELL, Providence. R. I. Secretary of State of Rhode Island. BLEECKER, R. WADE, New York City. BOARDMAN, SAMUEL L., Augusta, Maine. BOURNE, Hon. E. E., Kennebunk, Maine. President of the Maine Historical Society. BREVOORT, Hon. J. CARSON, Brooklyn. President of the L. I. Historical Society. BRODHEAD, J. ROMEYN, LL.D., New York. The historian of New York. BRINLEY, Hon. GEORGE, Hartford, Conn. BURNS, C. DEF., New York City. BUSHNELL, CHARLES J., New York City. DEAN, JOHN WARD, Boston, Mass. Author of _Life of Nathaniel Ward_, etc. DE COSTA, Rev. B. F., New York City. The historian of Lake George, etc. DE VOE, Colonel, THOMAS F., New York City. The historian of the Markets. DRAKE, SAMUEL G., Boston, Mass. The historian of the Town of Boston, etc. DUANE, Colonel WILLIAM, Philadelphia. DUNSHEE, HENRY W., New York City. The historian of the Dutch School, in N. Y. DUYCKINCK, EVERT A., New York City. Author of _Encylo. of Amer. Literature_, etc. EWBANK, Hon. THOMAS, New York City. V. P. of The American Ethnological Society. FISH, Hon. HAMILTON, New York City. President of the New York Historical Society. FRANCIS, LL.D., The late JOHN W., New York. GIBBS, GEORGE, Washington, D. C. Author of _The Administration of Washington and Adams_. GILLETT, D.D., Rev. E. H., Harlem, N. Y. The historian of the Presbyterian Church. GODFREY, JOHN E., Bangor, Maine. GREENE, Prof. GEORGE W., East Greenwich, R. I. Author of _Life of Gen. Nathaniel Greene_, etc. GREENWOOD, ISAAC J., New York City. HALL, Hon. HILAND, North Bennington, Vermont. Lately President of Vermont Historical Society. HATFIELD, D.D., Rev. E. F., New York City. The historian of Elizabeth-town, N. J., etc. HAY, Hon. WILLIAM, Saratoga Springs. HELMICK, C. C., Washington, D. C. HOFFMAN, FRANCIS S., New York City. IRVING, PIERRE, Tarrytown, New York. The biographer of Washington Irving. JONES, Colonel M. M., Utica, New York. Assistant Secretary of State of New York. KAPP, FRIEDRICH, New York City. Biographer of Generals Steuben, De Kalb, etc. KELBY, WILLIAM, New York City. Of the New York Historical Society. KETCHUM, Hon. EDGAR, Harlem, New York. LONG ISLAND HISTORICAL SOCIETY, Brooklyn. MCCOY, JOHN F., Brooklyn, New York. MCKEEN, Doctor, Topsham, Maine. MCKNIGHT, CHARLES, Poughkeepsie, New York MOORE, GEORGE HENRY, LL.D., New York. Librarian of New York Historical Society. MORSE, C. H., Washington, D. C. NEILL, E. D., Washington, D. C. The historian of Minnesota. NEW YORK, CORPORATION OF THE CITY OF. O'CALLAGHAN, LL.D., E. B., Albany, N. Y. Historian of New Netherland. PAINE, NATHANIEL, Worcester, Massachusetts. Treasurer of the Amer. Antiquarian Society. PERRY, Rev. WILLIAM STEVENS, Litchfield, Conn. Secretary of House of Lay and Clerical Delegates of General Convention of P. E. Church. PREBLE, Captain GEORGE HENRY, U.S.N. ROCKWELL, Professor E. F., Davison's Col., N. C. RUSSELL, J., Washington, D. C. SARDEMANN, Rev. J. G., Weser, Germany. SCOTT, LEWIS A., Philadelphia. SCOTT, M. B., Cleveland, Ohio. SHEA, LL.D., JOHN GILMARY, Elizabeth, N. J. Historian of the Catholic Missions. SHEPPARD, J. H., Boston. Librarian of N. E. Historic Genealog. Society. SIGEL, General FRANZ, Morrisania, N. Y. SIMMS, LL.D., WILLIAM GILMORE, Charleston, S. C. The historian of South Carolina. SMITH, BUCKINGHAM, St. Augustine, Florida. STILES, Doctor HENRY R., Brooklyn, N. Y. Author of _History of Windsor_; _History of Brooklyn_; etc. STONE, Rev. E. M., Providence. Secretary of R. I. Historical Society. TAYLOR, ASHER, New York City. THORNTON, J. WINGATE, Boston. Author of _Ancient Pemaquid_, _Landing on Cape Ann_, etc. TIEDEMAN, H., Amsterdam, Holland. TRUMBULL, Hon. J. HAMMOND, Hartford, Conn. President of the Connecticut Historical Society. WALWORTH, MANSFIELD TRACY, Albany. WHITE, Rev. PLINY H., Coventry, Vermont. President of Vermont Historical Society. WHITMORE, WILLIAM H., Boston. WILLIAMSON, Hon. JOSEPH, Belfast, Maine. WILLIS, Hon. WILLIAM, Portland, Maine. Late President Maine Historical Society. WOOL, Major-general JOHN E., U.S.A. WYNNE, T. H., Baltimore. Editor of _The Westover Papers_, etc. 
18253	----	Transcriber's note: The following symbols are used in this e-text: ^ before a letter indicates that the letter is superscripted in the original = before a vowel in brackets indicates that the vowel has a macron over it in the original, indicating a final n or m Remains Historical & Literary Connected with the Palatine Counties of Lancaster and Chester Published by the Chetham Society. Vol. VI. Printed for the Chetham Society. M.DCCC.XLV. [Illustration: THE CHETHAM SOCIETY] Council. EDWARD HOLME, ESQ., M.D., PRESIDENT. REV. RICHARD PARKINSON, B.D., CANON OF MANCHESTER, VICE-PRESIDENT. THE HON. & VERY REV. WILLIAM HERBERT, DEAN OF MANCHESTER. GEORGE ORMEROD, ESQ., D.C.L., F.R.S., F.S.A., F.G.S., SEDBURY PARK. SAMUEL HIBBERT WARE, ESQ., M.D., F.R.S.E., EDINBURGH. REV. THOMAS CORSER, M.A. REV. GEORGE DUGARD, M.A. REV. C.G. HULTON, M.A. REV. J. PICCOPE, M.A. REV. F.R. RAINES, M.A., F.S.A., MILNROW PARSONAGE, NEAR ROCHDALE. JAMES CROSSLEY, ESQ. JAMES HEYWOOD, ESQ., F.R.S. WILLIAM LANGTON, ESQ., TREASURER. WILLIAM FLEMING, ESQ., M.D., HON. SECRETARY. [Illustration] POTTS'S DISCOVERY OF WITCHES In the County of Lancaster, Reprinted from the Original Edition of 1613. With an Introduction and Notes, by JAMES CROSSLEY, ESQ. Printed for the Chetham Society. M.DCC.XLV. Manchester: Printed by Charles Simms and Co. INTRODUCTION. Were not every chapter of the history of the human mind too precious an inheritance to be willingly relinquished,--for appalling as its contents may be, the value of the materials it may furnish may be inestimable,--we might otherwise be tempted to wish that the miserable record in which the excesses occasioned by the witch mania are narrated, could be struck out of its pages, and for ever cancelled. Most assuredly, he, who is content to take the fine exaggeration of the author of _Hydriotaphia_ as a serious and literal truth, and who believes with him that "man is a glorious animal," must not go to the chapter which contains that record for his evidences and proofs. If he should be in search of materials for humiliation and abasement, he will find in the history of witchcraft in this country, from the beginning to the end of the seventeenth century, large and abundant materials, whether it affects the species or the individual. In truth, human nature is never seen in worse colours than in that dark and dismal review. Childhood, without any of its engaging properties, appears prematurely artful, wicked and cruel[1]; woman, the victim of a wretched and debasing bigotry, has yet so little of the feminine adjuncts, that the fountains of our sympathies are almost closed; and man, tyrannizing over the sex he was bound to protect, in its helpless destitution and enfeebled decline, seems lost in prejudice and superstition and only strong in oppression. If we turn from the common herd to the luminaries of the age, to those whose works are the landmarks of literature and science, the reference is equally disappointing;-- "The sun itself is dark And silent as the moon Hid in her vacant interlunar cave." [Footnote 1: Take, as an instance, the children of Mr. Throgmorton, of Warbois, for bewitching whom, Mother Samuels, her husband, and daughter, suffered in 1593. No veteran professors "in the art of ingeniously tormenting" could have administered the question with more consummate skill than these little incarnate fiends, till the poor old woman was actually induced, from their confident asseverations and plausible counterfeiting, to believe at last that she had been a witch all her life without knowing it. She made a confession, following the story which they had prompted, on their assurances that it was the only means to restore them, and then was hanged upon that confession, to which she adhered on the scaffold. Few tracts present a more vivid picture of manners than that in which the account of this case of witchcraft is contained. It is perhaps the rarest of the English tracts relating to witchcraft, and is entitled "The most strange and admirable Discoverie of the three Witches of Warboys, arraigned, convicted, and executed at the last Assizes at Huntingdon, for the bewitching of the five daughters of Robert Throckmorton, Esquire, and divers other persons with sundrie Devilish and grievous torments. And also for the bewitching to Death of the Lady Crumwell, the like hath not been heard of in this age. London, Printed by the Widdowe Orwin for Thomas Man and John Winnington, and are to be sold in Paternoster Rowe at the Signe of the Talbot." 1593, 4to. My copy was Brand's, and formed Lot 8224 in his Sale Catalogue.] We find the illustrious author of the Novum Organon sacrificing to courtly suppleness his philosophic truth, and gravely prescribing the ingredients for a witches' ointment;[2]--Raleigh, adopting miserable fallacies at second hand, without subjecting them to the crucible of his acute and vigorous understanding;[3]--Selden, maintaining that crimes of the imagination may be punished with death;[4]--The detector of Vulgar Errors, and the most humane of physicians,[5] giving the casting weight to the vacillating bigotry of Sir Matthew Hale;[6]--Hobbes, ever sceptical, penetrating and sagacious, yet here paralyzed, and shrinking from the subject as if afraid to touch it;[7]--The adventurous explorer, who sounded the depths and channels of the "Intellectual System" along all the "wide watered" shores of antiquity, running after witches to hear them recite the Common Prayer and the Creed, as a rational test of guilt or innocence;[8]--The gentle spirit of Dr. Henry More, girding on the armour of persecution, and rousing itself from a Platonic reverie on the Divine Life, to assume the hood and cloak of a familiar of the Inquisition;[9]--and the patient and enquiring Boyle, putting aside for a while his searches for the grand Magisterium, and listening, as if spell-bound, with gratified attention to stories of witches at Oxford, and devils at Mascon.[10] Nor is it from a retrospect of our own intellectual progress only that we find how capricious, how intermitting, and how little privileged to great names or high intellects, or even to those minds which seemed to possess the very qualifications which would operate as conductors, are those illuminating gleams of common sense which shoot athwart the gloom, and aid a nation on its tardy progress to wisdom, humanity, and justice. If on the Continent there were, in the sixteenth century, two men from whom an exposure of the absurdities of the system of witchcraft might have been naturally and rationally expected, and who seem to stand out prominently from the crowd as predestined to that honourable and salutary office, those two men were John Bodin[11] and Thomas Erastus.[12] The former a lawyer--much exercised in the affairs of men--whose learning was not merely umbratic--whose knowledge of history was most philosophic and exact--of piercing penetration and sagacity--tolerant--liberal minded--disposed to take no proposition upon trust, but to canvass and examine every thing for himself, and who had large views of human nature and society--in fact, the Montesquieu of the seventeenth century. The other, a physician and professor, sage, judicious, incredulous, "The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks," who had routed irrecoverably empiricism in almost every shape--Paracelsians--Astrologers--Alchemists--Rosicrucians--and who weighed and scrutinized and analyzed every conclusion, from excommunication and the power of the keys to the revolutions of comets and their supposed effects on empires, and all with perfect fearlessness and intuitive insight into the weak points of an argument. Yet, alas! for human infirmity. Bodin threw all the weight of his reasoning and learning and vivacity into the scale of the witch supporters, and made the "hell-broth boil and bubble" anew, and increased the witch _furor_ to downright fanaticism, by the publication of his _Demo-manie_,[13] a work in which "Learning, blinded first and then beguiled, Looks dark as ignorance, as frenzy wild;" but which it is impossible to read without being carried along by the force of mind and power of combination which the author manifests, and without feeling how much ingenious sophistry can perform to mitigate and soften the most startling absurdity. His contemporary, Erastus, after all his victories on the field of imposition, was foiled by the subject of witchcraft at last. This was his pet delusion--almost the only one he cared not to discard--like the dying miser's last reserve:-- ---- "My manor, sir? he cried; Not that, I cannot part with that,--and died." [Footnote 2: Lord Bacon thinks (see his _Sylva Sylvarum_) that soporiferous medicines "are likeliest" for this purpose, such as henbane, hemlock, mandrake, moonshade, tobacco, opium, saffron, poplar leaves, &c.] [Footnote 3: See his _History of the World_.] [Footnote 4: See his _Table Talk_, section "_Witches_."] [Footnote 5: Sir Thomas Browne's evidence at the trial of Amy Duny and Rose Cullender at Bury St. Edmunds in 1664, is too well known to need an extract from the frequently reprinted report of the case. To adopt the words of an able writer, (_Retros. Review_, vol. v. p. 118,) "this trial is the only place in which we ever meet with the name of Sir Thomas Browne without pleasurable associations."] [Footnote 6: Those who wish to have presented to them a faithful likeness of Sir Matthew Hale must not consult Burnet or Baxter, for that great judge, like Sir Epicure Mammon, sought "for his meet flatterers the gravest of divines," but will not fail to find it in the pages of Roger North, who has depicted his character with a strength and accuracy of outline which no Vandyck or Lely of biography ever surpassed. Would that we could exchange some of those "faultless monsters" with which that fascinating department of literature too much abounds, for a few more such instantly recognised specimens of true but erring and unequal humanity, which are as rare as they are precious. In the unabridged life of Lord Guildford by Roger North, which, with his own most interesting and yet unpublished autobiography, are in my possession in his autograph, are found some additional touches which confirm the general accuracy of the portrait he has sketched of Hale in the work which has been printed. (Vide North's _Life of Lord Guildford_, by Roscoe, vol. i. p. 119.)] [Footnote 7: See his _Dialogue on the Common Laws of England_.] [Footnote 8: Dr. Cudworth was the friend whom More refers to without naming, _Collections of Relations_, p. 336, edit. 1726, 8vo.] [Footnote 9: There is no name in this catalogue that excites more poignant regret than that of Dr. Henry More. So exalted was his character, so serene and admirable his temper, so full of harmony his whole intellectual constitution, that, irradiated at once by all the lights of religion and philosophy, and with clearer glimpses of the land of vision and the glories behind the veil than perhaps uninspired mortality ever partook of before, he seems to have reached as near to the full standard of perfection as it is possible for frail and feeble humanity to attain. Dr. Outram said that he looked upon Dr. More as the holiest person upon the face of the earth; and the sceptical Hobbes, who never dealt in compliment, observed, "That if his own philosophy were not true, he knew of none that he should sooner like than More's of Cambridge." His biographer, Ward, concludes his life in the following glowing terms:--"Thus lived and died the eminent Dr. More: thus set this bright and illustrious star, vanishing by degrees out of our sight after, to the surprise and admiration of many, (like that which was observed in Cassiopeia's chair,) it had illuminated, as it were, both worlds so long at once." At the lapse of many years I have not forgotten the impassioned fondness with which the late and most lamented Robert Southey dwelt upon the memory of the Cambridge Plato, or the delight with which he greeted some works of his favourite author which I was fortunate enough to point out to him, with which he had not been previously acquainted. The sad reverse of the picture will he seen by those who consult the folio of More's philosophical works and Glanville's _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, the greatest part of which is derived from More's _Collections_. His hallucinations on the subject of witchcraft, from which none of the English writers of the Platonic school were exempt, are the more extraordinary, as a sister error, judicial astrology, met in More with its most able oppugner. His tract, which has excited much less attention than its merit deserves, (I have not been able to trace a single quotation from it in any author during the last century,) is entitled "Tetractys Anti-astrologica, or a Confutation of Astrology." Lond. 1681, 4to. I may mention while on the subject of More, that the second and most valuable part of the memoir of him by Ward, his devoted admirer and pupil, which was never printed, is in my possession, in manuscript.] [Footnote 10: See Boyle's letter on the subject of the latter, in the 5th vol. of the folio edition of his works.] [Footnote 11: I have always considered the conclusion of Bodin's book, _De Republica_, the accumulative grandeur of which is even heightened in Knolles's admirable English translation, as the finest peroration to be found in any work on government. Those who are fortunate enough to possess a copy of his interdicted _Examination of Religions_, the title of which is, "Colloquium heptaplomeres de abditis sublimium rerum arcanis, libris 6 digestum," which was never printed, and of which very few MSS. copies are in existence, are well aware how little he felt himself shackled in the spirit of examination which he carried into the most sacred subjects by any respect for popular notions or received systems or great authorities. My MS. copy of this extraordinary work, which came from Heber's Collection, is contained in two rather thick folio volumes.] [Footnote 12: Few authors are better deserving of an extended biography, a desideratum which, in an age characterised by its want of literary research, is not likely to be soon supplied, than Thomas Erastus, whose theological, philosophical, and medical celebrity entitle him to rank with the greatest men of his century. At present we have to collect all that is known of his life from various scattered and contradictory sources. John Webster, in his _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, contrary to the usual candour and fairness of his judgments, speaks slightingly of Erastus. There was, however, a sufficient reason for this. Erastus had shown up the empiricism of Webster's idol Paracelsus, and was in great disfavour with the writers of the Anti-Galenic school.] [Footnote 13: I cannot concur with Mr. Hallam in the extremely low estimate he forms of the literary merit of Bodin's _Demomanie_, which he does not seem to have examined with the care and impartiality which he seldom is deficient in. Like all Bodin's works, it has a spirit peculiarly his own, and is, in my opinion, one of the most entertaining books to be found in the circle of Demonology.] In his treatise _De Lamiis_, published in 1577, 8vo., he defends nearly all the absurdities of the system with a blind zealotry which in such a man is very remarkable. His book has accordingly taken its place on the same shelf with Sprenger, Remigius, Delrio, and De Lancre, and deserves insertion only in a list which has yet to be made out, and which if accurately compiled would be a literary curiosity, of the singularly illogical books of singularly able reasoners. What was left unaccomplished by the centurions of literature came ultimately from the strangest of all possible quarters; from the study of an humble pupil of the transmuter of metals and prince of mountebanks and quacks--the expounder of Reuchlin _de verbo mirifico_, and lecturer in the unknown tongues--the follower of Trismegistus--cursed with bell, book and candle, by every decorous Church in Christendom--the redoubted Cornelius Agrippa; who, if he left not to his pupil Wierus the secret of the philosopher's stone or grand elixir, seems to have communicated a treasure perhaps equally rare and not less precious, the faculty of seeing a truth which should open the eyes of bigotry and dispel the mists of superstition, which should stop the persecution of the helpless and stay the call for blood. If, in working out this virgin ore from the mine, he has produced it mixed up with the _scoria_ of his master's _Occult Philosophy_; if he gives us catalogues of devils and spirits, with whose acquaintance we could have dispensed; if he pleads the great truth faintly, inconsistently, imperfectly, and is evidently unaware of the strength of the weapons he wields; these deductions do not the less entitle Wierus to take his place in the first rank of Humanity's honoured professors, the true philanthropists and noble benefactors of mankind. In our own country, it may be curious and edifying to observe to whom we mainly owe those enlightened views on this subject, which might have been expected to proceed in their natural channel, but for which we look in vain, from the "triumphant heirs of universal praise," the recognized guides of public opinion, whose fame sheds such a lustre on our annals,--the Bacons, the Raleighs, the Seldens, the Cudworths, and the Boyles. The strangely assorted and rather grotesque band to whom we are principally indebted for a vindication of outraged common sense and insulted humanity in this instance, and whose vigorous exposition of the absurdities of the prevailing system, in combination with other lights and sources of intelligence, led at last to its being universally abandoned, consists of four individuals--on any of whom a literary Pharisee would look down with supercilious scorn:--a country gentleman, devoted to husbandry, and deep in platforms of hop gardens,[14]--a baronet, whose name for upwards of a century has been used as a synonyme for incurable political bigotry,[15]--a little, crooked, and now forgotten man, who died, as his biographer tells us, "distracted, occasioned by a deep conceit of his own parts, and by a continual bibbing of strong and high tasted liquors,"[16]--and last, but not least assuredly, of one who was by turns a fanatical preacher and an obscure practitioner of physic, and who passed his old age at Clitheroe in Lancashire in attempting to transmute metals and discover the philosopher's stone.[17] So strange a band of Apostles of reason may occasion a smile; it deserves, at all events, a little more particular consideration before we address ourselves to the short narration which may be deemed necessary as an introduction to the republication which follows. Of the first of the number, Reginald or Reynold Scot, it is to be regretted that more particulars are not known. Nearly the whole are contained in the following information afforded by Anthony à Wood, _Athenæ._, vol. i. p. 297; from which it appears that he took to "solid reading" at a crisis of life when it is generally thrown aside. "Reynolde Scot, a younger son of Sir John Scot, of Scot's Hall, near to Smeeth, in Kent, by his wife, daughter of Reynolde Pimp, of Pimp's Court, Knight, was born in that county, and at about 17 years of age was sent to Oxon, particularly as it seems to Hart Hall, where several of his countrymen and name studied in the latter end of K. Henry VIII. and the reign of Edward VI., &c. Afterwards he retired to his native country, without the honour of a Degree, and settled at Smeeth, where he found great encouragement in his studies from his kinsman, Sir Thomas Scot. _About which time, taking to him a wife, he gave himself up solely to solid reading_, to the perusing of obscure authors that had, by the generality of scholars, been neglected, and at times of leisure to husbandry and gardening. He died in September or October in 1599, and was buried among his ancestors, in the church at Smeeth before mentioned." Retired as his life and obscure as his death might be, he is one whose name will be remembered as long as vigorous sense, flowing from the "wells of English undefiled," hearty and radiant humour, and sterling patriotism, are considered as deserving of commemoration. His _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, first published in 1584, is indeed a treat to him who wishes to study the idioms, manners, opinions, and superstitions of the reign of Elizabeth. Its entire title deserves to be given:-- "_The discouerie of witchcraft, wherein the lewde dealing of witches and witchmongers is notablie detected, the knauerie of coniurors, the impietie of inchantors, the follie of soothsaiers, the impudent falshood of cousenors, the infidelitie of atheists, the pestilent practises of Pythonists, the curiositie of figurecasters, the vanitie of dreamers, the beggerlie art of Alcumystrie, the abhomination of idolatrie, the horrible art of poisoning, the vertue and power of naturall magike, and all the conueiances of Legierdemaine and iuggling are deciphered: and many other things opened, which haue long lien hidden, howbeit verie necessarie to be knowne. Heerevnto is added a treatise vpon the nature and substance of spirits and diuels, &c: all latelie written by Reginald Scot Esquire._ 1 John, 4, 1. _Beleeue not euerie spirit but trie the spirits, whether they are of God; for many false prophets are gone out into the world, &c._ 1584." [Footnote 14: Reginald Scot.] [Footnote 15: Sir R. Filmer.] [Footnote 16: John Wagstaffe.] [Footnote 17: John Webster.] This title is sufficient to show that he gives no quarter to the delusion he undertakes to expose, and though he does not deny that there may be witches in the abstract, (to have done so would have left him a preacher without an audience,) yet he guards so cautiously against any practical application of that principle, and battles so vigorously against the error which assimilated the witches of modern times to the witches of Scripture, and, denying the validity of the confessions of those convicted, throws such discredit and ridicule upon the whole system, that the popular belief cannot but have received a severe shock from the publication of his work.[18] By an extraordinary elevation of good sense, he managed, not only to see through the absurdities of witchcraft, but likewise of other errors which long maintained their hold upon the learned as well as the vulgar. Indeed, if not generally more enlightened, he was, in some respects, more emancipated from delusion than even his great successor, the learned and sagacious Webster, who, a century after, clung still to alchemy which Reginald Scot had ridiculed and exposed. Yet with all its strong points and broad humour, it is undeniable that _The Discoverie of Witchcraft_ only scotched the snake instead of killing it; and that its effect was any thing but final and complete. Inveterate error is seldom prostrated by a blow from one hand, and truth seems to be a tree which cannot be forced by planting it before its time. There was something, too, in the book itself which militated against its entire acceptance by the public. It is intended to form a little Encyclopædia of the different arts of imposition practised in Scot's time; and in order to illustrate the various tricks and modes of cozenage, he gives us so many charms and diagrams and conjurations, to say nothing of an inventory of seventy-nine devils and spirits, and their several seignories and degrees, that the _Occult Philosophy_ of Cornelius Agrippa himself looks scarcely less appalling, at first sight, than the _Discoverie_. This gave some colour to the declamation of the author's opponents, who held him up as Wierus had been represented before him, as if he were as deeply dipped in diabolical practises as any of those whom he defended. Atheist and Sadducee, if not very wizard himself, were the terms in which his name was generally mentioned, and as such, the royal author of the _Demonology_ anathematizes him with great unction and very edifying horror. Against the papists, the satire of Scot had been almost as much directed as against what he calls the "witch-mongers," so that that very powerful party were to a man opposed to him. Vigorous, therefore, as was his onslaught, its effect soon passed by; and when on the accession of James, the statute which so long disgraced our penal code was enacted, as the adulatory tribute of all parties, against which no honest voice was raised, to the known opinions of the monarch, Scot became too unfashionable to be seen on the tables of the great or in the libraries of the learned. If he were noticed, it was only to be traduced as a sciolist, (imperitus dialecticæ et aliarum bonarum artium, says Dr. Reynolds,) and to be exposed for imagined lapses in scholarship in an age when for a writer not to be a scholar, was like a traveller journeying without a passport. Meric Casaubon, who carried all the prejudices of the time of James the first into the reign of Charles the second, but who, though overshadowed by the fame of his father, was no unworthy scion of that incomparable stock, at the same time that he denounces Scot as illiterate, will only acknowledge to having met with him "at friends houses" and "booksellers shops," as if his work were one which would bring contamination to a scholar's library. Scot was certainly not a scholar in the sense in which the term is applied to the Scaligers, Casaubons, and Vossius's, though he would have been considered a prodigy of reading in these days of superficial acquisition. But he had original gifts far transcending scholarship. He had a manly, straightforward, vigorous understanding, which, united with an honest integrity of purpose, kept him right when greater men went wrong. How invaluable a phalanx would the battalion of folios which the reign of James the first produced now afford us, if the admirable mother-wit and single-minded sincerity of Reginald Scot could only have vivified and informed them.[19] [Footnote 18: In the epistle to his kinsman Sir Thomas Scot, prefixed to his _Discoverie_, he observes:-- "I see among other malefactors manie poore old women conuented before you for working of miracles, other wise called witchcraft, and therefore I thought you also a meet person to whom I might commend my booke."--And he then proceeds, in the following spirited and gallant strain, to run his course against the Dagon of popular superstition:-- "I therefore (at this time) doo onelie desire you to consider of my report, concerning the euidence that is commonlie brought before you against them. See first whether the euidence be not friuolous, & whether the proofs brought against them be not incredible, consisting of ghesses, presumptions, & impossibilities contrarie to reason, scripture, and nature. See also what persons complaine vpon them, whether they be not of the basest, the vnwisest, & most faithles kind of people. Also may it please you to waie what accusations and crimes they laie to their charge, namelie: She was at my house of late, she would haue had a pot of milke, she departed in a chafe bicause she had it not, she railed, she curssed, she mumbled and whispered, and finallie she said she would be euen with me: and soone after my child, my cow, my sow, or my pullet died, or was strangelie taken. Naie (if it please your Worship) I haue further proofe: I was with a wise woman, and she told me I had an ill neighbour, & that she would come to my house yer it were long, and so did she; and that she had a marke aboue hir waste, & so had she: and God forgiue me, my stomach hath gone against hir a great while. Hir mother before hir was counted a witch, she hath beene beaten and scratched by the face till bloud was drawne vpon hir, bicause she hath beene suspected, & afterwards some of those persons were said to amend. These are the certeinties that I heare in their euidences. "_Note also how easilie they may be brought to confesse that which they neuer did, nor lieth in the power of man to doo_: and then see whether I haue cause to write as I doo. Further, if you shall see that infidelitie, poperie, and manie other manifest heresies be backed and shouldered, and their professors animated and hartened, by yeelding to creatures such infinit power as is wrested out of Gods hand, and attributed to witches: finallie, if you shall perceiue that I haue faithfullie and trulie deliuered and set downe the condition and state of the witch, and also of the witchmonger, and haue confuted by reason and lawe, and by the word of God it selfe, all mine aduersaries obiections and arguments: then let me haue your countenance against them that maliciouslie oppose themselues against me. "_My greatest aduersaries are yoong ignorance and old custome._ For what follie soeuer tract of time hath fostered, it is so superstitiouslie pursued of some, as though no error could be acquainted with custome. But if the lawe of nations would ioine with such custome, to the maintenance of ignorance, and to the suppressing of knowledge; the ciuilest countrie in the world would soone become barbarous, &c. For as knowledge and time discouereth errors, so dooth superstition and ignorance in time breed them." The passage which I next quote, is a further specimen of the impressive and even eloquent earnestness with which he pleads his cause:-- "In the meane time, I would wish them to know that if neither the estimation of Gods omnipotencie, nor the tenor of his word, nor the doubtfulnes or rather the impossibilitie of the case, nor the small proofes brought against them, nor the rigor executed vpon them, nor the pitie that should be in a christian heart, nor yet their simplicitie, impotencie, or age may suffice to suppresse the rage or rigor wherewith they are oppressed; yet the consideration of their sex or kind ought to mooue some mitigation of their punishment. For if nature (as Plinie reporteth) haue taught a lion not to deale so roughlie with a woman as with a man, bicause she is in bodie the weaker vessell, and in hart more inclined to pitie (which Ieremie in his lamentations seemeth to confirme) what should a man doo in this case, for whome a woman was created as an helpe and comfort vnto him? In so much as, euen in the lawe of nature, it is a greater offense to slea a woman than a man: not bicause a man is not the more excellent creature, but bicause a woman is the weaker vessell. And therefore among all modest and honest persons it is thought a shame to offer violence or iniurie to a woman: in which respect Virgil saith, _Nullum memorabile nomen foeminea in poena est_. "God that knoweth my heart is witnes, and you that read my booke shall see, that my drift and purpose in this enterprise tendeth onelie to these respects. First, that the glorie and power of God be not so abridged and abased, as to be thrust into the hand or lip of a lewd old woman: whereby the worke of the Creator should be attributed to the power of a creature. Secondlie, that the religion of the gospell may be seene to stand without such peeuish trumperie. Thirdlie, that lawfull fauour and christian compassion be rather vsed towards these poore soules, than rigor and extremitie. Bicause they, which are commonlie accused of witchcraft, are the least sufficient of all other persons to speake for themselues; as hauing the most base and simple education of all others; the extremitie of their age giuing them leaue to dote, their pouertie to beg, their wrongs to chide and threaten (as being void of anie other waie of reuenge) their humor melancholicall to be full of imaginations, from whence cheefelie proceedeth the vanitie of their confessions; as that they can transforme themselues and others into apes, owles, asses, dogs, cats, &c: that they can flie in the aire, kill children with charmes, hinder the comming of butter, &c. "And for so much as the mightie helpe themselues together, and the poore widowes crie, though it reach to heauen, is scarse heard here vpon earth: I thought good (according to my poore abilitie) to make intercession, that some part of common rigor, and some points of hastie iudgement may be aduised vpon. For the world is now at that stay (as Brentius in a most godlie sermon in these words affirmeth) that euen as when the heathen persecuted the christians, if anie were accused to beleeue in Christ, the common people cried _Ad leonem_: so now, if anie woman, be she neuer so honest, be accused of witchcraft, they crie _Ad ignem_."] [Footnote 19: In the intervening period between the publication of Soot's work and the advertisement of Filmer, several books came out on the subject of witchcraft. Amongst them it is right to notice "A Dialogue concerning Witches and Witchcraft, by George Giffard, Minister of God's Word in Maldon," 1593, 4to. This tract, which has been reprinted by the Percy Society, is not free from the leading fallacies which infected the reasonings of almost all the writers on witchcraft. It is, nevertheless, exceedingly entertaining, and well deserves a perusal, if only as transmitting to us, in their full freshness, the racy colloquialisms of the age of Elizabeth. It is to be hoped that the other works of Giffard, all of which are deserving of attention, independently of their theological interest, as specimens of pure and sterling English, may appear in a collected form. The next tract requiring notice is "The Trial of Witchcraft, by John Cotta," 1616, 4to, of which a second and enlarged edition was published in 1624. Cotta, who was a physician of great eminence and experience, residing at Northampton, has supplied in this very able, learned, and vigorous treatise, a groundwork which, if pursued to its just results, for he writes very cautiously and guardedly, and rather hints at his conclusions than follows them out, would have sufficed to have overthrown many of the positions of the supporters of the system of witchcraft. His work has a strong scholastic tinge, and is not without occasional obscurity; and on these accounts probably produced no very extensive impression at the time. He wrote two other tracts--1. "Discovery of the Dangers of ignorant practisers of Physick in England," 1612, 4to; 2. "Cotta contra Antonium, or An Ant-Anthony," Oxford, 1623, 4to; the latter of which, a keen satire against the chymists' aurum potabile, is exceedingly rare. Both are intrinsically valuable and interesting, and written with great vigour of style, and are full of curious illustrations derived from his extensive medical practice. I cannot conclude this note without adverting to Gaule's amusing little work, ("Select Cases of Conscience touching Witches and Witchcraft, by John Gaule, Preacher of the Word at Great Haughton, in the county of Huntingdon," 1646, 24mo.) which gives us all the casuistry applicable to witchcraft. We can almost forgive Gaule's fundamental errors on the general question, for the courage and spirit with which he battled with the villainous witchfinder, Hopkins, who wanted sorely to make an example of him, to the terror of all gainsayers of the sovereign power of this examiner-general of witches. Gaule proved himself to be an overmatch for the itinerating inquisitor, and so effectually attacked, battled with, and exposed him, as to render him quite harmless in future. The minister of Great Haughton was made of different metal to the "old reading parson Lewis," or Lowes, to whose fate Baxter refers with such nonchalance. As the only clergyman of the Church of England, that I am aware of, who was executed for witchcraft, Lewis's case is sufficiently interesting to merit some notice. Stearne's (vide his _Confirmation of Witchcraft_, p. 23,) account of it, which I have not seen quoted before, is as follows:-- "Thus was Parson Lowis taken, who had been a Minister, (as I have heard) in one Parish above forty yeares, in Suffolke, before he was condemned, but had been indited for a common imbarriter, and for Witchcraft, above thirty yeares before, and the grand Jury (as I have heard) found the bill for a common imbarriter, who now, after he was found with the markes, in his confession, he confessed, that in pride of heart, to be equall, or rather above God, the Devill tooke advantage of him, and hee covenanted with the Devill, and sealed it with his bloud, and had three Familiars or spirits, which sucked on the markes found upon his body, and did much harme, both by Sea and Land, especially by Sea, for he confessed, that he being at Lungarfort in Suffolke, where he preached, as he walked upon the wall, or workes there, he saw a great saile of Ships passe by, and that as they were sailing by, one of his three Impes, namely his yellow one, forthwith appeared to him, and asked him what hee should doe, and he bade it goe and sinke such a Ship, and shewed his Impe a new Ship, amongst the middle of the rest (as I remember) one that belonged to Ipswich, so he confessed the Impe went forthwith away, and he stood still, and viewed the Ships on the Sea as they were a sayling, and perceived that Ship immediately, to be in more trouble and danger then the rest; for he said, the water was more boystrous neere that then the rest, tumbling up and down with waves, as if water had been boyled in a pot, and soone after (he said) in a short time it sanke directly downe into the Sea, as he stood and viewed it, when all the rest sayled away in safety, there he confessed, he made fourteen widdowes in one quarter of an houre. Then Mr. Hopkin, as he told me (for he tooke his Confession) asked him, if it did not grieve him to see so many men cast away, in a short time, and that he should be the cause of so many poore widdowes on a suddaine, but he swore by his maker, no, he was joyfull to see what power his Impes had, and so likewise confessed many other mischiefes, and had a charme to keep him out of Goale, and hanging, as he paraphrased it himselfe, but therein the Devill deceived him; for he was hanged, that Michaelmas time 1645. at Burie Saint Edmunds, but he made a very farre larger confession, which I have heard hath been printed: but if it were so, it was neither of Mr. Hopkins doing nor mine owne; for we never printed anything untill now." Hutchinson gives the explanation of this confession. What can be more atrocious than the whole story, which is yet but the common story of witch confessions? "_Adv._ Then did not he confess this before the Commissioners, at the Time of his Tryal? "_Clerg._ No, but maintained his Innocence stoutly, and challenged them to make Proof of such Things as they laid to his Charge. I had this from a Person of Credit, who was then in Court, and heard his Tryal. I may add, that tho' his Case is remembered better than others that suffered, yet I never heard any one speak of him, but with great Compassion, because of his Age and Character, and their Belief of his Innocence: And when he came to his Execution, because he would have Christian Burial, he read the Office himself, and that way committed his own Body to the Ground, in sure and certain Hope of the Resurrection to eternal Life. "In the Notes upon those Verses that I quoted out of Hudibras, it is said, that he had been a painful Preacher for many Years, I may add for Fifty, for so long he had been Vicar of Brandeston in the County of Suffolk, as appears by the Time of his Institution. That I might know the present Sense of the Chief Inhabitants of that Place, I wrote to Mr. Wilson, the Incumbent of that Town, and by his Means received the following Letter from Mr. Rivett, a worthy Gentleman who lived lately in the same Place, and whose Father lived there before him. "'SIR, "'In Answer to your Request concerning Mr. Lowes, my Father was always of the opinion, that Mr. Lowes suffered wrongfully, and hath often said, that he did believe, he was no more a Wizzard than he was. I have heard it from them that watched with him, that _they kept him awake several Nights together, and run him backwards and forwards about the Room, until he was out of Breath: Then they rested him a little, and then ran him again: And thus they did for several Days and Nights together, till he was weary of his Life, and was scarce sensible of what he said or did_. They swam him at Framlingham, but that was no true Rule to try him by; for they put in honest People at the same Time, and they swam as well as he."] After the lapse of another half century, and at the very period when the persecution against witches waxed hotter, and the public prejudice had become only more inveterate, from the ingredient of fanaticism having been largely thrown in as a stimulant, another ally to the cause of compassion and common sense started up, in the person of one whose name has rounded many a period and given point to many an invective. To find the proscribed author of the _Patriarcha_ purging with "euphrasy and rue" the eyes of the dispensers of justice, and shouldering the crowd to obtain for reason a fair and impartial hearing, is indeed like meeting with Saul among the prophets. If there be one name which has been doomed to run the gauntlet, and against which every pert and insolent political declaimer has had his fling, it is that of this unfortunate writer; yet in his short but masterly and unanswerable "Advertisement to the Jurymen of England, touching Witches, together with a difference between an English and Hebrew Witch," first published in 1653, 4to., he has addressed himself so cogently and decisively to the main fallacy of the arguments in favour of witchcraft which rested their force on Scripture misunderstood, and has so pertinently and popularly urged the points to be considered, that his tract must have had the greatest weight on the class to whom his reasoning was principally addressed, and on whose fiat the fates of his unhappy clients may be said to have hung. For this good service, reason and common sense owe Sir Robert Filmer a debt which does not yet appear to have been paid. The verdict of proscription against him was pronounced by the most incompetent and superficial æra of our literature, and no friendly appellant has yet moved the court of posterity for its reversal. Yet without entering upon the theory of the patriarchal scheme, which after all, perhaps, was not so irrational as may be supposed, or discussing on an occasion like the present the conflicting theories of government, it may be allowable to express a doubt whether even the famous author of the "Essay on the Human Understanding," to whose culminating star the decadence of the rival intelligence is attributable, can be shewn to have been as much in advance of his generation in the time of king William, as from the tract on witchcraft, and another written on a different subject, but with equally enlightened views,[20] Sir Robert Filmer manifestly appears to have outrun his at the period of the usurpation.[21] [Footnote 20: I allude to his little tract on Usury.] [Footnote 21: Between the period of the publication of Filmer's Advertisement and the appearance of Wagstaffe's work, a tract was published too important in this controversy to be passed over without notice. It is entitled _A Candle in the Dark, or a Treatise concerning the Nature of Witches and Witchcraft; being Advice to Judges, Sheriffs, Justices of the Peace, and Grand Jurymen, what to do before they passe sentence on such as are arraigned for their lives as Witches. By Thomas Ady, M.A. London, printed for R.J., to be sold by Thomas Newberry, at the Three Lions in Cornhill, by the Exchange, 1656_, 4to. Ady, of whom, unfortunately, nothing is known, presses the arguments against the witchmongers and witchfinders with unanswerable force. In fact, this tract comprises the quintessence of all that had been urged against the popular system, and his "Candle" was truly a burning and a shining light. His Dedication is too curious to be omitted:-- "To the Prince of the Kings of the Earth. It is the manner of men, O heavenly King, to dedicate their books to some great men, thereby to have their works protected and countenanced among them; but thou only art able, by thy holy Spirit of Truth, to defend thy Truth, and to make it take impression in the heart and understanding of men. Unto thee alone do I dedicate this work, entreating thy Most High Majesty to grant, that whoever shall open this book, thy holy Spirit may so possess their understanding, as that the Spirit of errour may depart from them, and that they may read and try thy Truth by the touchstone of thy Truth, the holy Scriptures; and finding that Truth, may embrace it and forsake their darksome inventions of Antichrist, that have deluded and defiled the nations now and in former ages. Enlighten the world, thou that art the Light of the World, and let darkness be no more in the world, now or in any future age; but make all people to walk as children of the Light for ever; and destroy Antichrist, that hath deceived the nations, and save us the residue by thyself alone; and let not Satan any more delude us, for the Truth is thine for ever." He then puts his "Dilemma that cannot be answered by Witchmongers." It is too long to quote, but it is a dilemma that would pose the stoutest Coryphæus of the party to whom he addressed himself.] The next champion in this unpopular cause, John Wagstaffe, who published "The Question of Witchcraft Debated," 1669, 12mo,[22] was, as A. à Wood informs us, "the son of John Wagstaffe, citizen of London, descended from those of his name of Hasland Hall, in Derbyshire, was born in Cheapside, within the city of London, became a commoner of Oriel College in the latter end of 1649, took the degrees in Arts, and applied himself to the study of politics and other learning. At length, being raised from an academical life to the inheritance of Hasland, by the death of an uncle, who died without male issue, he spent his life afterwards in single estate." His death took place in 1677. The Oxford historian, who had little reverence for new lights, and never loses an opportunity of girding at those whose weights and measures were not according to the current and only authentic standard, has left no very flattering account of his person. "He was a little crooked man, and of a despicable presence. He was laughed at by the boys of this University, because, as they said, he himself looked like a little wizard." Small as might be his stature, and questionable the shape in which he appeared, he might still have taken up the boast of the author of the _Religio Medici_: "Men that look upon my outside do err in my altitude, for I am above Atlas's shoulders." None but a large-souled and kindly-affectioned man, whose intellect was as comprehensive as his feelings were benevolent, could have produced the excellent little treatise which claims him as its author. The following is the lofty and memorable peroration in which he sums up the strength of his cause:-- "I cannot think without trembling and horror on the vast numbers of people that in several ages and several countries have been sacrificed unto this idol, Opinion. Thousands, ten thousands, are upon record to have been slain, and many of them not with simple deaths, but horrid, exquisite tortures. And yet, how many are there more who have undergone the same fate, of whom we have no memorial extant. Since, therefore, the opinion of witchcraft is a mere stranger unto Scripture, and wholly alien from true religion; since it is ridiculous by asserting fables and impossibilities; since it appears, when duly considered, to be all bloody and full of dangerous consequence unto the lives and safety of men; I hope that with this my Discourse, opposing an absurd and pernicious error, I can not at all disoblige any sober, unbiassed person; especially if he be of such ingenuity as to have freed himself from a slavish subjection unto those prejudicial opinions which custom and education do with too much tyranny impose.--If the doctrine of witchcraft should be carried up to a height, and the inquisition after it should be intrusted in the hands of ambitious, covetous and malicious men, it would prove of far more fatal consequence unto the lives and safety of mankind, than that ancient, heathenish custom of sacrificing men unto idol gods; insomuch that we stand in need of another Hercules Liberator, who, as the former freed the world from human sacrifice, should, in like manner, travel from country to country, and by his all-commanding authority, free it from _this euil and base custom of torturing people to confess themselves witches, and burning them after extorted confessions_. Surely the blood of men ought not to be so cheap, nor so easily to be shed by those who, under the name of God, do gratifie exorbitant passions and selfish ends; for without question, under this side heaven, there is nothing so sacred as the life of man; for the preservation whereof all policies and forms of government, all laws and magistrates are most especially ordained. Wherefore I presume that this Discourse of mine, attempting to prove the vanity and impossibility of witchcraft, is so far from any deserved censure and blame, that it rather deserves commendation and praise, if I can in the least measure contribute to the saving of the lives of men." [Footnote 22: I have not seen his earlier work, "Historical Reflections on the Bishop of Rome, &c." Oxford, 1660, 4to. If it be written with any portion of the power evinced in his "Question of Witchcraft Debated," the ridicule with which Wood says it was received by the wits of the university, and the oblivion into which it subsequently fell, were both equally undeserved.] Wagstaffe was answered by Meric Casaubon in his treatise "Of Credulity and Incredulity in Things Divine and Spiritual," 1670, 12mo; and if his reply be altogether inconclusive, it cannot be denied to be, as indeed every thing of Meric Casaubon's writing was, learned, discursive and entertaining. He observes of Wagstaffe:-- "He doth make some show of a scholar and a man of some learning, but whether he doth acquit himself as a gentleman (which I hear he is) in it, I shall leave to others to judge." This is surely the first time that a belief in witchcraft was ever made a test of gentlemanly propriety. Two years before the trial, which is the subject of the following republication, took place, the hamlet of Thornton, in the parish of Coxwold, in the adjoining county of York, gave birth to one who was destined so utterly to demolish the unstable and already shaken and tottering structure which Bodin, Delrio, and their followers had set up, as not to leave one stone of that unhallowed edifice remaining upon another. Of the various course of life of John Webster, the author of "The Displaying of supposed Witchcraft," his travels, troubles, and persecutions; of the experience he had had in restless youth and in unsettled manhood of religion under various forms, amongst religionists of almost every denomination; and of those profound and wide-ranging researches in every art and science in which his vigorous intellect delighted, and by which it was in declining age enlightened, sobered and composed; it is much to be regretted that we have not his own narrative, written in the calm evening of his days, when he walked the slopes of Pendle, from where, "Through shadow dimly seen Rose Clid'row's castle grey;"[23] when, to use his own expressions, he lived a "solitary and sedentary life, _mihi et musis_, having more converse with the dead than the living, that is, more with books than with men." The facts for his biography are scanty and meagre, and are rather collected by inference from his works, than from any other source. He was born at Thornton on the 3rd of February, 1610. From a passing notice of A. à Wood, and an incidental allusion in his own works, he may be presumed to have passed some time at Cambridge, though with what views, or at what period of his life, is uncertain. He was ordained Presbyter by Dr. Morton, when Bishop of Durham, who was, it will be recollected, the sagacious prelate by whom the frauds of the boy of Bilson were detected. In the year 1634, Webster was curate of Kildwick in Craven, and while in that cure the scene occurred which he has so vividly sketched in the passage after quoted, and which supplied the hint, and laid the foundation, for the work which has perpetuated his fame. How long he continued in this cure we know not: but, if one authority may be relied on, he was Master of the Free Grammar School at Clitheroe in 1643. To this foundation he may be considered as a great benefactor, for, from information supplied from a manuscript source, I find that he recovered for its use, with considerable trouble and no small personal charge, an income of about £60. per annum, which had been given to the school, but was illegally diverted and withheld. From this period there is a blank in his biography for about ten years. Most probably his life was rambling and desultory. He speaks of himself as having been about that time a chaplain in the army. His first two works, published in 1653 and 1654, "The Saints' Guide," and "The Judgment Set and the Books Opened,"[24] show that in the interval he had deserted the Established Church, and, probably, after some of those restless fluctuations of belief to which men of his ardent temperament are subject, settled at last in a wilder sort of Independency, which he eulogizes as "unmanacling the simple and pure light of the Gospel from the chains and fetters of cold and dead formality, and of restrictive and compulsory power." His language in these two works is more assimilated to that of the Seekers or Quakers, which it resembles in the cloudy mysteriousness of its phraseology, than that of the more rational and sober writers of the Independent school. Amongst the dregs of fanaticism of which they consist, the reader will look in vain for any germ or promise of future excellence or distinction as an author. It would seem that he preached the sermons contained in "The Judgment Set and Books Opened" at the church of All-Hallows, Lombard-street, at which he must have been for some time the officiating minister, and where the amusing incident, in which Webster was concerned, narrated by Wood, which had many a parallel in those times, no doubt occurred. "On the 12th of Oct., 1653," says the author of the _Athenæ._,[25] "he (_i.e._ William Erbury) with John Webster, sometimes a Cambridge scholar, endeavoured to knock down learning and the ministry both together, in a disputation that they then had against two ministers in a church in Lombard-street, in London. Erbury then declared that the wisest ministers and purest churches were at that time befool'd, confounded, and defil'd, by reason of learning. Another while he said, that the ministry were monsters, beasts, asses, greedy dogs, false prophets; and that they are the Beast with seven heads and ten horns. The same person also spoke out and said that Babylon is the Church in her ministers, and that the Great Whore is the Church in her worship, &c.; so that with him there was an end of ministers and churches and ordinations altogether. While these things were babbled to and fro, the multitude being of various opinions, began to mutter, and many to cry out, and immediately it came to a meeting or tumult, (call it which you please,) _wherein the women bore away the Bell, but lost some of them their kerchiefs_: and the dispute being hot, there was more danger of pulling down the church than the ministry."[26] [Footnote 23: "Poems, by the Rev. R. Parkinson, Canon of Manchester," 1845, 12mo. (Hunter's Song.) A most pleasing volume of a very accomplished author. Long may he survive to add honours to the ancient stock of which he has given so interesting an account, by well-earned trophies gathered from the fair fields of literature and theology, and by a most exemplary discharge of the appropriate duties of his own sacred profession.] [Footnote 24: "_The Saints' Guide, or Christ the Rule and Ruler of Saints. Manifested by way of Positions, Consectaries, and Queries. Wherein is contained the Efficacy of Acquired Knowledge; the Rule of Christians; the Mission and Maintenance of Ministers; and the Power of Magistrates in Spiritual Things. By John Webster, late Chaplain in the Army._" London, 1653, 4to. "_The Judgement Set, and the Bookes Opened. Religion Tried whether it be of God or of men. The Lord cometh to visit his own, For the time is come that Judgement must begin at the House of God._ { _The Sheep from the Goats_, _To separate_ { _and_ { _The Precious from the Vile._ _And to discover the Blasphemy of those that say_, { _Apostles_, } { _Found Lyars_, { _Teachers_, } { _Deceivers_, _They are_ { _Alive_, } _but are_ { _Dead_, { _Rich_, } { _Poore, blind, naked_, { _Jewes_, } { _The Synagogue of Satan._ _In severall Sermons at Alhallows Lumbard-street, By John Webster, A servant of Christ and his Church. Micah 3. 5. &c. Thus saith the Lord, concerning the Prophets that make my people erre, that bite with their teeth, and cry peace: and he that putteth not into their mouths, they prepare war against him: Therefore night shall be upon them, that they shall not have a vision, &c. The Sun shall goe down over the prophets, and the Day shall be dark. Their seers shall be ashamed, and the Deviners confounded: yea, they shall All cover their lips, for there is no answer of God._" London, 1654. 4to.] [Footnote 25: _Athen. Oxon._, Vol. ii., p. 175. Edit. 1721.] [Footnote 26: Old Anthony chronicles this battle of the kerchiefs with a sly humour very different from his usual solemn matter-of-fact style.] Of Erbury who, being originally in holy orders and a beneficed clergyman, deserted the Established Church and ran into all the excesses of Antinomianism, Webster was a great admirer, and has in a preface, hitherto unnoticed, prefixed to a scarce tract of Erbury's, entitled "The great Earthquake, or Fall of all the Churches," published in 1654, 4to, left a sketch of his opinions and character, in which his defence is undertaken with great zeal and no small ingenuity. One of his apologist's conclusions most of Erbury's readers will find no difficulty in assenting to, "the world is not ripe for such discoveries as our author held forth." The verses which are appended to this sketch, characterizing Erbury-- "As him Who did the saintship sever From the opinion; this fails, that shall never, Chymist of Truth and Gospel;"-- are, also, evidently Webster's, and their quality is not such as to make us unreasonably impatient for any further manifestations of his poetical skill. In the year 1654 he published another tract of singular interest and curiosity, in which he attacks the Universities and the received system of education there, always with vigour and various learning, and frequently with success. It is entitled "Academiarum Examen, or the Examination of Academies; wherein is discussed and examined the matter, method, and customes of academick and scholastic learning, and the insufficiency thereof discovered and laid open; as also some expedients proposed for the reforming of schools, and the perfecting and promoting of all kind of science; offered to the judgment of all those that love the proficiencie of arts and sciences and the advancement of learning. By Jo. Webster. In moribus et institutis academiarum, collegiorum et similium conventium quo ad doctorum hominum sedes et operas mutuas destinata sunt, omnia progressui scientiarum in ulterius adversa inveniri. Franc. Bacon de Verulamio lib. de cogitat. et vis. pag. mihi. 14. London: Printed for Giles Calvert, and are to be sold at the sign of the Black Spread-Eagle, at the west end of Paul's. 1654." 4to. In this tract, which, like some other attacks upon the seats of learning, displays more power in objection than in substitution, in pulling down than in building up again, he shews the same fondness for the philosophers of the Hermetic school, for Paracelsus, Dee, Fludd and Van Helmont, and the same adhesion to planetary sigils, astrology, and the doctrine of sympathies and primæval signatures, which is perceptible in the deliberate performance of his old age. Of himself he observes: "I owe little to the advantages of those things called the goods of fortune, but most (next under the goodness of God) to industry: however, I am a free born Englishman, a citizen of the world and a seeker of knowledge, and am willing to teach what I know, and learn what I know not." No one can read the _Academiarum Examen_ without feeling that it is the production of a vigorous and powerful mind, which had "tasted," and that not scantily, of the "sweet fruit of far fetched and dear bought science." Yet it still remains a literary problem rather difficult of solution, how a performance so clear, well digested, and rational, could proceed, and that contemporaneously, from the same author as the cloudy and fanatical "Judgment Set and Books Opened." On behalf of the Universities, answerers started up in the persons of Ward and Wilkins, both afterwards bishops, and the part taken by the first of them in the controversy was considered of sufficient importance to form matter of commemoration in his monumental inscription. Two opponents so famous, might almost seem to threaten extinction to one, of whom it could only be said, that he had been an obscure country schoolmaster, and whose acquirements, whatever they were, were mainly the result of his own unassisted study. In the joint answer, the title of which is "Vindiciæ Academiarum, containing some briefe animadversions upon Mr. Webster's book entitled the 'Examination of Academies,' together with an appendix concerning what Mr. Hobbes and Mr. Dell have published in this argument, Oxford, 1654," 4to., there is no want of bitterness nor of controversial skill, but though, particularly in the limited arena of the prescribed course of academical study, the knowledge displayed in it is more exact, there is neither visible in it the same power of mind, nor the same breadth of views, nor even the same variety of learning, as is conspicuous in the original tract. This, with the two fanatical pieces which Webster published contemporaneously with it, were entirely unknown to his biographer, Dr. Whitaker, who has ceded him a place amongst the distinguished natives and residents of the parish of Whalley, in the full confidence "that there is no puritanical taint in his writings, and that his taste had evidently been formed upon better models.[27]" Had these early theological and literary delinquencies of the physician of Clitheroe been communicated to his historian, it may be questioned whether the portals of his provincial temple of fame would have opened to receive so heinous a transgressor. But Dr. Whitaker's deduction would have been perhaps perfectly warrantable, had Webster left no remains but his _History of Metals_, and _Displaying of Witchcraft_--so little do an author's latest works afford a clue to the character of his earliest. From 1654 to 1671, when he published his _History of Metals_, little is known of Webster's course of life. He appears to have retired into the country and devoted himself to medical practice and study, and to have taken up his residence in or near Clitheroe. He complains, that in the year 1658 all his books and papers were taken from him, an abstraction which, so far as his manuscripts are concerned, posterity is not called upon to lament, if they all resembled his _Judgment Set and Books Opened_. But his capacious and acute understanding was gradually unfolding new resources, supplying the defects, and overcoming the disadvantages of his imperfect education and desultory and irregular studies, while his matured and enlightened judgment had abandoned and discarded the fanatical pravities and erroneous tenets, which his ardent enthusiasm had too hastily imbibed. When he again became a candidate for the honours of authorship, it was evident that he knew well how to apply those quarries of learning into which, during his long recess, he had been digging so indefatigably, to furnish materials for solid and durable structures, rising in honourable and gratifying contrast to the fabrics which had preceded them. In 1671 came forth his "Metallographia, or History of Metals,"[28] in which all that recondite learning and extensive observation could bring together, on a subject which experiment had scarcely yet placed upon a rational basis, is collected. He styles himself on the Title page, "Practitioner in Physic and Chirurgery." In 1677, he published his great work. Its Title is "The Displaying of supposed Witchcraft. Wherein is affirmed that there are many sorts of Deceivers and Impostors. And Divers persons under a passive Delusion of Melancholy and Fancy. But that there is a Corporeal League made betwixt the Devil and the Witch, Or that he sucks on the Witches Body, has Carnal Copulation, or that Witches are turned into Cats, Dogs, raise Tempests, or the like, is utterly denied and disproved. Wherein also is handled, the Existence of Angels and Spirits, the truth of Apparitions, the Nature of Astral and Sydereal Spirits, the force of Charms and Philters; with other abstruse matters. By John Webster, Practitioner in Physic. Falsæ etenim opiniones Hominum præoccupantes, non solum surdos, sed et cæcos faciunt, ita ut videre nequeant, quæ aliis perspicua apparent. Galen, lib. 8. de Comp. Med. London, Printed by J.M. and are to be sold by the Booksellers in London. 1677," (fol.) In this memorable book he exhausts the subject, as far as it is possible to do so, by powerful ridicule, cogent arguments, and the most various and well applied learning, leaving to Hutchinson, and others who have since followed in his track, little further necessary than to reproduce his facts and reasonings in a more popular, it can scarcely be said, in a more effective, form.[29] Those who love literary parallels may compare Webster, as he appears in this his last and most characteristic performance, with two famous medical contemporaries, Sir Thomas Browne, and Thomas Bartholinus the Dane, whom he strongly resembled in the character of his mind, in the complexion and variety of his studies, in grave simplicity, in exactness of observation, in general philosophical incredulity with some startling reserves, in elaborate and massive ratiocination, and in the enthusiasm, subdued but not extinguished, which gives zest to his speculations and poignancy and colouring to his style. He who seeks to measure great men in their strength and in their weakness, and what operation of literary analysis is more instructive or delightful, will find ample employment for collation and comparison in this extraordinary book, in which, keen as is the penetration displayed on almost every subject of imposition and delusion, he appears still to cling, with the obstinacy of a veteran, to some of the darling Dalilahs of his youth, "to the admirable and soul-ravishing knowledge of the three great Hypostatical principles of nature, salt, sulphur, and mercury," and, _proh pudor!_ to alchemy and astrology--and those seraphic doctors and professors, Crollius, Libavius, and Van Helmont. He closed his literary performances with this noble fabric of logic and learning, not the less striking, and scarcely less useful, because it is chequered by some of the mosaic work of human imperfection,--a performance which may be said to have grown up under the umbrage of Pendle, and which he might have bequeathed to its future Demdikes and Chattox's as an amulet of irresistible power.[30] [Footnote 27: What would Dr. Whitaker have thought of the following explosion, in which Webster sounds the tocsin with a vehemence and vigour which no Macbriar or Kettledrumle of the period could have surpassed. The extract is from his _Judgment Set and Books Opened_:-- "All those that claim an Ordination by Man, or from Man, that speak from the Spirit of the World, from Wit, Learning and Humane Reason, who Preach for Hire, and make Merchandize of the Souls of Men; I witness they are all Baal's Priests and Idol-Shepherds, who destroy the Sheep, and are Theives and Robbers, who came not in by the Door of the Sheep-fold, but climbed up another way, and _are the Magicians, Sorcerers, Inchanters, Soothsayers, Necromancers, and Consulters with Familiar Spirits, which the Lord will cut off out of the Land_, so that his People shall have no more Soothsayers; and as Jannes and Jambres resisted Moses, so do these resist the Truth; Men of corrupt Minds, reprobate concerning the Faith; but they shall proceed no farther, for their Folly shall be manifest to all Men, as theirs also was. Woe unto them, for they have gone in the way of Cain, and ran greedily after the Errors of Balaam, for Reward, and Perished in the Gainsaying of Core. These are Spots in your Feasts of Charity, when they Feast with you, feeding themselves without fear: Clouds they are without Water, carried of Winds; Trees, whose Fruit withered, without Fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the Roots: Raging Waves of the Sea, foaming out their own Shame, wandring Stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of Darkness for ever."] [Footnote 28: "_Metallographia: or, An History of Metals. Wherein is declared the signs of Ores and Minerals both before and after digging, the causes and manner of their generations, their kinds, sorts and differences; with the description of sundry new Metals or Semi-Metals, and many other things pertaining to Mineral knowledge. As also, the handling and shewing of their Vegetability, and the discussion of the most difficult Questions belonging to Mystical Chymistry, as of the Philosophers Gold, their Mercury, the Liquor Alkahest, Aurum potabile, and such like. Gathered forth of the most approved Authors that have written in Greek, Latine, or High Dutch; With some Observations and Discoveries of the Author himself. By John Webster, Practitioner in Physick and Chirurgery. Qui principia naturalia in seipso ignoraverit, hic jam multum remotus est ab arte nostra, quoniam non habet radicem veram supra quam intentionem suam fundet. Geber. Sum. perfect. l. c. i. p. 21._ _Sed non ante datur telluris operta subire, Auricomos quam quis discerpserit arbore foetus._ _Virg._ �neid. l. 6. _London, Printed by A.C. for Walter Kettilby at the Bishops-Head in Duck-lane, 1671, 4to._"] [Footnote 29: Dr. Whitaker's assertion, that Webster was "neglected alike by the wise and unwise," seems to be a mere _gratis dictum_. The age of folios was rapidly passing away; but few folios of the period appear to have been more generally read, if we are to judge at least from its being frequently mentioned and quoted, than Webster's _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_. The same able writer's "Doubt whether Sir Matthew Hale ever read Webster's _Discovery of Supposed Witchcraft_," might easily have been satisfied by a reference to any common life of that great judge, which would have shown the historian of Whalley that Hale died before the book was published. Nor is Dr. Whitaker correct in stating that all tradition of Webster is now lost in the neighbourhood where he resided. The following anecdote, which would have delighted him, I had from an old inhabitant of Burnley, to whom it had been handed down by his grandfather:--In the days of Webster's fanaticism, during the usurpation, he is stated, in the zealous crusade then so common against superstitious relics, to have headed a party by whom the three venerable crosses, now set up in the churchyard of Whalley, commonly called the Crosses of Paulinus, and supposed to be coeval with the first preaching of Christianity in the North of England, were removed and taken away from their site and appropriated as a boundary fence for some adjoining fields. After the Restoration, and when his religious views had become sobered and settled, he is said, in an eager desire to atone for the desecration of which he had been guilty, to have purchased the crosses from the person who was then in possession of them, and to have been at the cost of re-erecting them on their present site, from which no sacrilegious hand will, I trust, ever again remove them. It is further said, that Webster's favourite and regular walk, in the latter part of his life, till his infirmities rendered him unable to take exercise of any kind, was to the remains of Whalley Abbey; and that a path along the banks of the stream which glides by those most picturesque and pleasing ruins, was long called "Webster's Walk." If this tradition be founded in fact, and I give it as I received it, John Webster, of Clitheroe, if not identical, as Mr. Collier has contended, with the dramatic poet of that name, must have felt something assimilated in spirit to the fine inspiration of those noble lines of the latter:-- "I do love these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history; And, questionless, here in this open court, Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather, some men lie interred that Lov'd the Church so well and gave so largely to't, They thought it should have canopied their bones Till doomsday: but all things have their end. Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men, Must have like death that we have."] [Footnote 30: Webster's death took place on the 18th June, 1682. He left an extensive library, composed principally of chemical, hermetical, and philosophical works, of which the MSS. catalogue is now in the possession of my friend, the Rev. T. Corser. I have two books which appear to have at one time formed part of his collection, from having his favourite signature, Johannes Hyphantes, in his autograph, on the title pages. Before I conclude with Webster, I ought perhaps to observe, that in the valuable edition of the works of Webster, the dramatic poet, published by the Rev. A. Dyce, that most accurate and judicious editor has proved indisputably, by an elaborate argument, that the John Webster, the writer of the _Examen Academiarum_, and John Webster, the author of the _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, were one and the same person, who was not identical with the dramatic writer of the same name. Mr. Dyce does not, however, appear to have been aware, that the identity of the author of the _Examen Academiarum_ and the writer on witchcraft is distinctly stated by Dr. Henry More, in his _Præfatio Generalissima_, to the Latin edition of his works, whose testimony being that of a contemporary, who was, like Webster, "a Cambridge scholar," may perhaps be considered sufficient, without resorting to internal and circumstantial evidence. The inscription on Webster's monument in the chapel of St. Mary Magdalen, at Clitheroe, is too characteristic and curious to be omitted. I give it entire:-- "_Qui hanc figuram intelligunt Me etiam intellexisse, intelligent._ [Illustration] _Hic jacet ignotus mundo, mersusque tumultu Invidiæ, semper mens tamen æqua fuit, Multa tulit veterum ut sciret secreta sophorum Ac tandem vires noverit ignis aquæ._ * * * * * _Johannes Hyphantes sive Webster, In villa Spinosa supermontana, in Parochia silvæ cuculatæ, in agro Eboracensi, natus 1610 Feb. 3, Ergastulum animæ deposuit 1682, Junii 18, Annoq. ætatis suæ 72 currente._ _Sicq. peroravit moriens mundo huic valedicens, Aurea pax vivis, requies æterna sepultis._"] But it is necessary to proceed from the authors on witchcraft to that extraordinary case which forms the subject of the present republication, and which first gave to Pendle its title to be considered as the Hartz Forest of England. The Forest of Pendle is a portion of the greater one of Blackburnshire, and is so called from the celebrated mountain of that name, over the declivity of which it extends and stretches in a long but interrupted descent of five miles, to the water of Pendle, a barren and dreary tract. Dr. Whitaker observes of this and the neighbouring forests, and the remark even yet holds good, "that they still bear the marks of original barrenness, and recent cultivation; that they are still distinguished from the ancient freehold tracts around them, by want of old houses, old woods, high fences; (for these were forbidden by the forest laws;) by peculiarities of dialect and manners in their inhabitants; and lastly, by a general air of poverty which all the opulence of manufactures cannot remove." He considers that "at an uncertain period during the occupancy of the Lacies, the first principle of population" (in these forests) commenced; it was found that these wilds, bleak and barren as they were, might be occupied to some advantage in breeding young and depasturing lean "cattle, which were afterwards fattened in the lower domains. _Vaccaries_, or great upland pastures, were laid out for this purpose; _booths_ or mansions erected upon them for the residence of herdsmen; and at the same time that herds of deer were permitted to range at large as heretofore, _lawnds_, by which are meant parks within a forest, were inclosed, in order to chase them with greater facility, or, by confinement, to produce fatter venison. Of these lawnds Pendle had new and old lawnd, with the contiguous park of Ightenhill." In the early part of the seventeenth century, the inhabitants of this district must have been, with few exceptions, a wretchedly poor and uncultivated race, having little communication with the occupants of the more fertile regions around them, and in whose minds superstition, even yet unextinguished, must have had absolute and uncontrollable domination. Under the disenchanting influence of steam, manufactures, and projected rail-roads, still much of the old character of its population remains. _Hodie manent vestigia ruris._ The "parting genius" of superstition still clings to the hoary hill tops and rugged slopes and mossy water sides, along which the old forest stretched its length, and the voices of ancestral tradition are still heard to speak from the depth of its quiet hollows, and along the course of its gurgling streams. He who visits Pendle[31] will yet find that charms are generally resorted to amongst the lower classes; that there are hares which, in their persuasion, never can be caught, and which survive only to baffle and confound the huntsman; that each small hamlet has its peculiar and gifted personage, whom it is dangerous to offend; that the wise man and wise woman (the white witches of our ancestors) still continue their investigations of truth, undisturbed by the rural police or the progress of the schoolmaster; that each locality has its haunted house; that apparitions still walk their ghostly rounds--and little would his reputation for piety avail that clergyman in the eyes of his parishioners who should refuse to lay those "extravagant and erring spirits," when requested, by those due liturgic ceremonies which the orthodoxy of tradition requires. [Footnote 31: It was my good fortune to visit this wizard-haunted spot within the last few weeks, in company with the able and zealous Archdeacon[A] within whose ecclesiastical cure it is comprized, and to whose singularly accurate knowledge of this district, and courteous communication of much valuable information regarding it, I hold myself greatly indebted. Following, with unequal steps, such a guide, accompanied, likewise, by an excellent Canon of the Church[B] with all the "armamentaria coeli" at command against the powers of darkness, and a lay auxiliary[C], whose friendly converse would make the roughest journey appear smooth, I need scarcely say, I passed through "The forest wyde, Whose hideous horror and sad trembling sownd Full griesly seem'd," unscathed by the old lords of the soil, and needed not Mengus's Fuga, Fustis et Flagellum Dæmonum, as a triple coat of mail.] [Footnote A: The Venerable the Archdeacon of Manchester, the Rev. John Rushton, who is also the Incumbent of New Church, in Pendle.] [Footnote B: The Rev. Canon Parkinson.] [Footnote C: J.B. Wanklyn, Esq.] In the early part of the reign of James the first, and at the period when his execrable statute against witchcraft might have been sharpening its appetite by a temporary fast for the full meal of blood by which it was eventually glutted,--for as yet it could count no recorded victims,--two wretched old women with their families resided in the Forest of Pendle. Their names were Elizabeth Southernes and Ann Whittle, better known, perhaps, in the chronicles of witchcraft, by the appellations of Old Demdike and Old Chattox.[32] Both had attained, or had reached the verge of the advanced age of eighty, were evidently in a state of extreme poverty, subsisting with their families by occasional employment, by mendicancy, but principally, perhaps, by the assumption of that unlawful power, which commerce with spirits of evil was supposed to procure, and of which their sex, life, appearance, and peculiarities, might seem to the prejudiced neighbourhood in the Forest to render them not unsuitable depositaries. In both, perhaps, some vindictive wish, which appeared to have been gratified nearly as soon as uttered, or some one of those curious coincidences which no individual's life is without, led to an impression which time, habit, and general recognition would gradually deepen into full conviction, that each really possessed the powers which witchcraft was believed to confer. Whether it be with witches as it is said to be with a much maligned branch of a certain profession, that it needs two of its members in a district to make its exercise profitable, it is not for me to say; but it is seldom found that competition is accompanied by any very amicable feeling in the competitors, or by a disposition to underrate the value of the merchandize which each has to offer for sale. Accordingly, great was the rivalry, constant the feuds, and unintermitting the respective criminations of the Erictho and Canidia of Pendle,[33] who had opened shops for the vending of similar contraband commodities, and were called upon to decry each other's stock, as well as to magnify their own. Each "gave her little senate laws," and had her own party (or tail, according to modern phraseology) in the Forest. Some looked up to and patronized one, and some the other. If old Demdike could boast that she had Tibb as a familiar, old Chattox was not without her Fancy. If the former had skill in waxen images, the latter could dig up the scalps of the dead, and make their teeth serviceable to her unhallowed purposes. In the anxiety which each felt to outvie the other, and to secure the greater share of the general custom of a not very extended or very lucrative market, each would wish to be represented as more death-dealing, destructive, and powerful than her neighbour; and she who could number up the most goodly assortment of damage done to man and beast, whether real or not was quite immaterial, as long as the draught was spiced and flavoured to suit the general taste, stood the best chance of obtaining a monopoly. It is a curious fact, that the son-in-law of one of these two individuals, and whose wife was herself executed as a witch, paid to the other a yearly rent,[34] on an express covenant that she should exempt him from her charms and witchcrafts. Where the possession of a commission from the powers of darkness was thus eagerly and ostentatiously paraded, every death, the cause of which was not perfectly obvious, whether it ended in a sudden termination or a slow and gradual decline, would be placed to the general account of one of the two (to use Master Potts's description,) "agents for the devil in those parts," as the party responsible for these unclaimed dividends of mortality. Did a cow go mad, or was a horse unaccountably afflicted with the staggers, the same solution was always at hand to clear negligence and save the trouble of inquiry; and so far from modestly disclaiming these atrocities, the only struggle on the parts of Mothers Demdike and Chattox would be which should first appropriate them. And in all this it must not be forgotten that their own credulity was at least as great as the credulity of their neighbours, and that each had the power in question was so much an admitted point, that she had long ceased, in all probability, to entertain any doubts on the subject. With this general conviction on one hand, and a sincere persuasion on the other, it would be surprising if, in the course of a few years, the scandalous chronicle of Pendle had not accumulated a _corpus delicti_ against them, which only required that "_one of his Majesties Justices in these parts, a very religious honest gentleman, painful in the service of his country_," should work the materials into shape, and make "the gruel thick and slab." [Footnote 32: The Archdeacon of Manchester suggests that this is merely a corruption of Chadwick or Chadwicks, and not, as explained in the Note, p. 19, from her chattering as she went along.] [Footnote 33: These bickerings were no doubt exasperated by the robbery committed upon old Demdike and Alizon Device, which is detailed in the examinations, some of the _opima spolia_ abstracted on which occasion she detected on the person of old Chattox's daughter.] [Footnote 34: Of an aghendole of meal. Since writing the Note, p. 23, I am indebted to Miss Clegg, of Hallfoot, near Clitheroe, for information as to the exact quantity contained in an aghendole, which is eight pounds. This measure, she informs me, is still in use in Little Harwood, in the district of Pendle. The Archdeacon of Manchester considers that an aghendole, or more properly, as generally pronounced, a nackendole, is a kneading-dole, the quantity of meal, &c. usually taken for kneading at one time. There can be no doubt that this is the correct derivation.] Such a man was soon found in the representative of the old family of the Nowels of Read, who, desirous of signalizing himself as an active and stirring justice, took up the case of these self-accusing culprits, for both made confessions when examined before him, with a vigour worthy of a better cause. On the 2nd April, 1612, he committed old Demdike, old Chattox, Alizon Device, and Anne Redfern to Lancaster, to take their trial at the next assizes for various murders and witchcrafts. "Here," says the faithful chronicler, Master Potts, "they had not stayed a weeke, when their children and friendes being abroad at libertie, laboured a speciall meeting at Malking Tower[35] in the Forrest of Pendle, vpon Good-fryday, within a weeke after they were committed, of all the most dangerous, wicked, and damnable witches in the county farre and neere. Vpon Good-fryday they met, according to solemne appoyntment, solemnized this great festiuall day according to their former order, with great cheare, merry company, and much conference. In the end, in this great assemblie it was decreed that M. Covell, [he was the gaoler of Lancaster Castle,] by reason of his Office, shall be slaine before the next Assises, the Castle at Lancaster to be blown up," &c., &c. This witches' convention, so historically famous, we unquestionably owe to the "painful justice" whose scent after witches and plots entitled him to a promotion which he did not obtain. An overt act so alarming and so indisputable, at once threw the country, far and near, into the greatest ferment--_furiis surrexit Etruria justis_--while it supplied an admirable _locus in quo_ for tracing those whose retiring habits had prevented their propensities to witchcraft from being generally known to their intimate friends and connexions. The witness by whose evidence this legend was principally supported, was Jennet Device, a child about nine years old, and grand-daughter of old Demdike. A more dangerous tool in the hands of an unscrupulous evidence-compeller, being at once intelligent, cunning and pliant, than the child proved herself, it would not have been easy to have discovered. A foundation being now laid capable of embracing any body of confederates, the indefatigable justice proceeded in his inquiries, and in the end, Elizabeth Device the daughter of old Demdike, James Device her son, Alice Nutter, Katherine Hewitt, John Bulcock, Jane Bulcock, with some others, were committed for trial at Lancaster. The very curious report of that trial is contained in the work now republished, which was compiled under the superintendence of the judges who presided, by Master Thomas Potts, clerk in court, and present at the trial. His report, notwithstanding its prolixity and its many repetitions, it has been thought advisable to publish entire, and the reprint which follows is as near a fac-simile as possible of the original tract. [Footnote 35: Baines confounds Malking-Tower with Hoar-stones, a place rendered famous by the second case of pretended witchcraft in 1633, but at some distance from the first-named spot, the residence of Mother Demdike, which lies in the township of Barrowford. The witch's mansion-- "Where that same wicked wight Her dwelling had-- Dark, doleful, dreary, like a greedy grave That still for carrion carcases doth crave, On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly owle, Shrieking his baleful note, which ever drave Far from that haunt all other cheerful fowl, And all about it wandering ghosts did wail and howle"-- is now, alas! no more. It stood in a field a little elevated, on a brow above the building at present called Malking-Tower. The site of the house or cottage is still distinctly traceable, and fragments of the plaster are yet to be found imbedded in the boundary wall of the field. The old road to Gisburne ran almost close to it. It commanded a most extensive prospect in front, in the direction of Alkincoates, Colne, and the Yorkshire moors; while in another direction the vast range of Pendle, nearly intercepted, gloomed in sullen majesty. At the period when Mother Demdike was in being, Malking-Tower would be at some distance from any other habitation; its occupier, as the vulgar would opine-- "So choosing solitarie to abide Far from all neighbours, that her devilish deedes And hellish arts from people she might hide, And hurt far off unknown whomever she envide."] It is rather strange that Dr. Whitaker, to whom local superstitions were always matters of the strongest interest, and welcome as manna to the sojourners in the wilderness,[36] should have been ignorant, not merely of Master Potts's discovery, but even of the fact of this trial of the witches in 1612. It is equally singular that Sir Walter Scott should have forgotten, when writing his letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, that he had republished this tract, somewhat inaccurately, but with rather a long introduction and notes, in the third volume of his edition of the Somers Tracts, which appeared in 1810. He mentions Potts's _Discoverie_, in the amusing but very inaccurate and imperfect historical sketch referred to,[37] as a curious and rare book, which he had then for the first time obtained a sight of. What could have been his meaning in referring his readers, for an account of Mother Demdike and a description of Malking Tower, to "Mr. Roby's Antiquities of Lancaster," that apocryphal historian having given no such account or description, and having published no such work, it is rather difficult to conjecture. [Footnote 36: In a scarce little book, "The Triumph of Sovereign Grace, or a Brand plucked out of the Fire, by David Crosly, Minister, Manchester," 1743, 12mo., which I owe to the kindness of the very able historian of Cheshire, George Ormerod, Esq., Dr. Whitaker, to whom the volume formerly belonged, has been at the pains of chronicling the superstitions connected with a family, ranking amongst the more opulent yeomen of Cliviger, of the name of Briercliffe, on the execution of one of whom for murder the tract was published. The Briercliffe's, from the curious anecdotes which the Doctor gives with great unction, appear to have been one of those gloomy and fated races, dogged by some unassuageable Nemesis, in which crime and horror are transmitted from generation to generation with as much certainty as the family features and name.] [Footnote 37: We yet want a full, elaborate, and satisfactory history of witchcraft. Hutchinson's is the only account we have which enters at all at length into the detail of the various cases; but his materials were generally collected from common sources, and he confines himself principally to English cases. The European history of witchcraft embraces so wide a field, and requires for its just completion a research so various, that there is little probability, I fear, of this _desideratum_ being speedily supplied.] With all his habitual tautology and grave absurdity, Master Potts is, nevertheless, a faithful and accurate chronicler, and we owe his memory somewhat for furnishing us with so elaborate a report of what took place on this trial, and giving us, "in their own country terms," the examinations of the witnesses, which contain much which throws light on the manners and language of the times, and nearly all that is necessary to enable us to form a judgment on the proceedings. It will be observed that he follows with great exactness the course pursued in court, in opening the case and recapitulating the evidence separately against each prisoner, so as most graphically to place before us the whole scene as it occurred. The part in which he is felt to be most deficient, is in the want of some further account of the prisoners convicted, from the trial up to the time of their execution. To Master Potts, a man of legal forms and ceremonies, the entire interest in the case seems to have come in and gone out with the judge's trumpets. As most of the points in the trial which appeared to require observation, have been adverted to in the notes which follow the reprint, it is not considered necessary to enter into any analysis or review of the evidence adduced at the trial, which presents such a miserable mockery of justice. Mother Demdike, it will be seen, died in prison before the trial came on. Of the Pendle witches four, namely Old Chattox, Elizabeth Device, James Device, and Alizon Device, had all made confessions, and had little chance, therefore, of escaping condemnation. They were all found guilty; and with them were convicted, Anne Redfern, Alice Nutter, Katherine Hewitt, John Bulcock, and Jane Bulcock, who were all of Pendle or its neighbourhood, and who maintained their innocence and refused to make any confession. They were executed, along with the first-mentioned four and Isabel Robey, who was of Windle, in the parish of Prescot, and had been found guilty of similar practises, the day after the trial, viz. on the 18th of August, 1612, "at the common place of execution near to Lancaster." The main interest in reviewing this miserable band of victims will be felt to centre in Alice Nutter.[38] Wealthy, well conducted, well connected, and placed probably on an equality with most of the neighbouring families and the magistrate before whom she was brought, and by whom she was committed, she deserves to be distinguished from the companions with whom she suffered, and to attract an attention which has never yet been directed towards her.[39] That Jennet Device, on whose evidence she was convicted, was instructed to accuse her by her own nearest relatives, to whom "superfluous lagged the veteran on the stage," and that the magistrate, Roger Nowell, entered actively as a confederate into the conspiracy from a grudge entertained against her on account of a long disputed boundary, are allegations which tradition has preserved, but the truth or falsehood of which, at this distance of time, it is scarcely possible satisfactorily to examine. With such a witness, however, as Jennet Device, and such an admirable engine as the meeting at Malking-Tower, the guests at which she could multiply _ad libitum_, doling out the _plaat_, as Titus Oates would call it, by such instalments, and in such fragmentary portions, as would conduce to an easy digestion of the whole, the wonder seems not to be, that one unfortunate victim of a higher class should have perished in the meshes of artful and complicated villainy, but that its ramifications were not more extensive, and still more fatal and destructive. From one so capable of taking a hint as the little precocious prodigy of wickedness, in whose examination, Potts tells us, "_Mr. Nowell took such great paines_," a very summary deliverance might be expected from troublesome neighbours, or still more troublesome relatives; and if, by a leading question, she could only be induced to marshal them in their allotted places at the witches' imaginary banquet, there was little doubt of their taking their station at a place of meeting where the sad realities of life were only to be encountered, "the common place of execution near to Lancaster." [Footnote 38: The explorer of Pendle will find the mansion of Alice Nutter, Rough Lee, still standing. It is impossible to look at it, recollecting the circumstances of her case, without being strongly interested. It is a very substantial, and rather a fine specimen of the houses of the inferior gentry in the time of James the first, and is now divided into cottages. On one of the side walls is an inscription, almost entirely obliterated, which contained the date of the building and the initials of the name of its first owner. At a little distance from Rough Lee, pursuing the course of the stream, he will find the foundations of an ancient mill, and the millstones still unremoved, though the building itself has been pulled down long ago. This was, doubtless, the mill of Richard Baldwin, the miller, who, as stated in Old Demdike's confession, ejected her and Alizon Device her daughter, from his land so contumeliously; immediately after which her "Spirit or divell called Tibb appeared, and sayd Revenge thee of him." Greenhead, the residence of Robert Nutter, one of the reputed victims of the prisoners tried on this occasion, is at some distance from Rough Lee, and is yet in good preservation, and occupied as a farmhouse.] [Footnote 39: The instances are very few in England in which the statute of James the first was brought to bear against any but the lowest classes of the people. Indeed, there are not many attempts reported to attack the rich and powerful with weapons derived from its provisions. One of such attempts, which did not, like that against Alice Nutter, prove successful, is narrated in a curious and scarce pamphlet, which I have now before me, with this title--"Wonderful News from the North, or a true Relation of the sad and grievous Torments inflicted upon the Bodies of three children of Mr. George Muschamp, late of the County of Northumberland, by Witchcraft, and how miraculously it pleased God to strengthen them and to deliver them; as also the prosecution of the say'd Witches, as by Oaths and their own Confessions will appear, and by the Indictment found by the Jury against one of them at the Sessions of the Peace held at Alnwick, the 24th day of April, 1650. London, printed by T.H., and are to be sold by Richard Harper at his Shop in Smithfield. 1650," 4to. This was evidently a diabolical plot, in which these children were made the puppets, and which was got up to accomplish the destruction of a person of condition, Mrs. Dorothy Swinnow, the wife of Colonel Swinnow, of Chatton, in Northumberland, and from which she had great difficulty in escaping.] The trial of the Samlesbury witches, Jennet Bierley, Ellen Bierley, and Jane Southworth, forms a curious episode in Potts's _Discoverie_. A Priest or Jesuit, of the name of Thomson, _alias_ Southworth, had tutored the principal evidence, Grace Sowerbuts, a girl of the age of fourteen, but who had not the same instinctive genius for perjury as Jennet Device, to accuse the three persons above mentioned of having bewitched her; "so that," as the indictment runs, "by means thereof her body wasted and consumed." "The chief object," says Sir Walter Scott, "in this imposture, was doubtless the advantage and promotion of the Catholic cause, as the patient would have been in due time exorcised and the fiend dispossessed, by the same priest who had taught her to counterfeit the fits. Revenge against the women, who had become proselytes to the Church of England, was probably an additional motive." But the imposture broke down, from the inability of the principal witness to support the scheme of deception. Unsuccessful, however, as it proved, the time was well chosen, the groundwork excellently laid, the evidence industriously got up, and it must ever deserve a prominent place in the history--a history, how delightful when it shall be written in the spirit of philosophy and with due application of research--of human fraud and imposture. We can only speculate, of course, on such an occasion, but perhaps no trial is recorded as having taken place, with the results of which every body, the parties convicted only excepted, was, in all probability, better pleased or satisfied, than at this witch trial at Lancaster in 1612. The mob would be delighted with a pageant, always acceptable, in the execution of ten witches; and still more, that one of them was of a rank superior to their own;--the judge had no doubt, in his opinion, avoided each horn of the dilemma--the abomination mentioned in Scripture--punishing the innocent or letting the guilty go free--by tracking guilt with well breathed sagacity, and unravelling imposture with unerring skill;--a Jesuit had been unkennelled, a spectacle as gratifying to a serious Protestant in those days, as running down a fox to a thorough sportsman;--a plot had been discovered which might have made Lancaster Castle "to topple on its warders" and "slope its head to its foundations," and Master Cowell, who had held so many inquests, to vanish without leaving anything in his own person whereon an inquest could be holden;--a pestilent nest of incorrigible witches had been dug out and rooted up, and Pendle Hill placed under sanatory regulations;--and last, and not least, as affording matter of pride and exultation to every loyal subject, a commentary had at last been collected for two texts, which had long called for some such support without finding it, King James's _Demonology_, and his statute against witchcraft. When the _Discoverie_ of Master Potts, with its rich treasury of illustrative evidence, came to hand, would not the monarch be the happiest man in his dominions! Twenty years after the publication of the tract now reprinted, Pendle Forest again became the scene of pretended witchcrafts; and from various circumstances, the trial which took place then (in 1633) has acquired even greater notoriety than the one which preceded it, though no Master Potts could be found to transmit a report of the proceedings in the second case, a deficiency which is greatly to be lamented. The particulars are substantially comprised in the following examination, which is given from the copy in Whitaker's _Whalley_, p. 213, which, on comparison, is unquestionably more accurate than the other two versions, in Webster, p. 347, and Baines's _Lancashire_, vol. i. p. 604:[40]-- [Footnote 40: The copy in Baines is from the Harl. MSS., cod. 6854, fo. 26 _b_, and though inserted in his history as more correct than that in Whitaker's Whalley, is so disfigured by errors, particularly in the names of persons and places, as to be utterly unintelligible. From what source Whitaker derived his transcript does not appear; for the confession of Margaret Johnson he cites Dodsworth MSS. in Bodleian Lib., vol. 61, p. 47.] "THE EXAMINATION OF EDMUND ROBINSON, "Son of _Edm. Robinson_, of _Pendle_ forest, mason,[41] taken at _Padiham_ before _Richard Shuttleworth_[42] and _John Starkie_,[43] Esqs. two of his majesty's justices of the peace, within the county of _Lancaster_, 10th of February, A.D. 1633. [Footnote 41: "The informer was one Edmund Robinson (yet living at the writing hereof, and commonly known by the name of Ned of Roughs) whose Father was by trade a Waller, and but a poor Man, and they finding that they were believed and had incouragement by the adjoyning Magistrates, and the persons being committed to prison or bound over to the next Assizes, the boy, his Father and some others besides did make a practice to go from Church to Church that the Boy might reveal and discover Witches, pretending that there was a great number at the pretended meeting whose faces he could know, and by that means they got a good living, that in a short space the Father bought a Cow or two, when he had none before. And it came to pass that this said Boy was brought into the Church of Kildwick a large parish Church, where I (being then Curate there) was preaching in the afternoon, and was set upon a stall (he being but about ten or eleven years old) to look about him, which moved some little disturbance in the Congregation for a while. And after prayers I inquiring what the matter was, the people told me that it was the Boy that discovered Witches, upon which I went to the house where he was to stay all night, where I found him, and two very unlikely persons that did conduct him, and manage the business; I desired to have some discourse with the Boy in private, but that they utterly refused; then in the presence of a great many people, I took the Boy near me, and said: Good Boy tell me truly, and in earnest, did thou see and hear such strange things of the meeting of Witches, as is reported by many that thou dost relate, or did not some person teach thee to say such things of thy self? But the two men not giving the Boy leave to answer, did pluck him from me, and said he had been examined by two able Justices of the Peace, and they did never ask him such a question, to whom I replied, the persons accused had therefore the more wrong."--Webster's _Displaying of Witchcraft_, p. 276.] [Footnote 42: This was Richard Shuttleworth of Gawthorp, Esq., who married the daughter and heiress of R. Fleetwood, Esq., of Barton, and died June 1669, aged 82.] [Footnote 43: John Starkie, Esq., of the family of Starkie of Huntroyd, the same probably who was sheriff of Lancashire 9 Charles I, and one of the seven demoniacs at Cleworth in the year 1595, on whose evidence Hartley was hanged for witchcraft. Having commenced so early, he must by this time have qualified himself, if he only improved the advantages of his Cleworth education, to take the chair and proceed as professor, in all matters appertaining to witchcraft.] "Who informeth upon oath, (beeinge examined concerninge the greate meetings of the witches) and saith, that upon All-saints day last past, hee, this informer, beeinge with one _Henry Parker_, a neare doore neighbor to him in _Wheatley-lane_,[44] desyred the said _Parker_ to give him leave to get some bulloes,[45] which hee did. In which tyme of gettinge bulloes, hee sawe two greyhounds, viz. a blacke and a browne one, came runninge over the next field towards him, he verily thinkinge the one of them to bee Mr. _Nutters_,[46] and the other to bee Mr. _Robinsons_,[47] the said Mr. _Nutter_ and Mr. _Robinson_ havinge then such like. And the said greyhounds came to him and fawned on him, they havinge about theire necks either of them a coller, and to either of which collers was tyed a stringe, which collers as this informer affirmeth did shine like gould, and hee thinkinge that some either of Mr. _Nutter's_ or Mr. _Robinson's_ family should have followed them: but seeinge noe body to followe them, he tooke the said greyhounds thinkinge to hunt with them, and presently a hare did rise very neare before him, at the sight whereof he cryed, loo, loo, but the dogges would not run. Whereupon beeinge very angry, he tooke them, and with the strings that were at theire collers tyed either of them to a little bush on the next hedge, and with a rod that hee had in his hand, hee bett them. And in stede of the blacke greyhound, one _Dickonson_ wife stoode up (a neighb^r.) whom this informer knoweth, and in steade of the browne greyhound a little boy whom this informer knoweth not. At which sight this informer beeinge affraid indevoured to run away: but beeinge stayed by the woman, viz. by _Dickonson's_ wife, shee put her hand into her pocket, and pulled out a peace of silver much like to a faire shillinge, and offered to give him to hould his tongue, and not to tell, whiche hee refused, sayinge, nay thou art a witch; Whereupon shee put her hand into her pocket againe, and pulled out a stringe like unto a bridle[48] that gingled, which shee put upon the litle boyes heade that stood up in the browne greyhounds steade; whereupon the said boy stood up a white horse. Then immediately the said _Dickonson_ wife tooke this informer before her upon the said horse, and carried him to a new house called _Hoarestones_,[49] beinge about a quarter of a mile off, whither, when they were comme, there were divers persons about the doore, and hee sawe divers others cominge rideinge upon horses of severall colours towards the said house, which tyed theire horses to a hedge neare to the sed house; and which persons went into the sed house, to the number of threescore or thereabouts, as this informer thinketh, where they had a fyer and meate roastinge, and some other meate stirringe in the house, whereof a yonge woman whom hee this informer knoweth not, gave him flesh and breade upon a trencher, and drinke in a glasse, which, after the first taste, hee refused, and would have noe more, and said it was nought. And presently after, seeinge diverse of the company goinge to a barn neare adioyneinge,[50] hee followed after, and there he sawe sixe of them kneelinge, and pullinge at sixe severall roapes which were fastened or tyed to ye toppe of the house; at or with which pullinge came then in this informers sight flesh smoakeinge, butter in lumps, and milke as it were syleinge[51] from the said roapes, all which fell into basons whiche were placed under the saide roapes. And after that these sixe had done, there came other sixe which did likewise, and duringe all the tyme of theire so pullinge, they made such foule faces that feared[52] this informer, soe as hee was glad to steale out and run home, whom, when they wanted, some of theire company came runninge after him neare to a place in a high way, called Boggard-hole,[53] where this informer met two horsemen, at the sight whereof the sed persons left followinge him, and the foremost of which persons yt followed him, hee knoweth to bee one _Loynd_ wife, which said wife, together with one _Dickonson_ wife, and one _Jenet Davies_[54] he hath seene at severall tymes in a croft or close adioninge to his fathers house, whiche put him in a greate feare. And further, this informer saith, upon Thursday after New Yeares day last past, he sawe the sed _Loynd_ wife sittinge upon a crosse peece of wood, beeinge within the chimney of his father's dwellinge house, and hee callinge to her, said, come downe thou _Loynd_ wife, and immediately the sed _Loynd_ wife went up out of his sight. And further, this informer saith, yt after hee was comme from ye company aforesed to his father's house, beeinge towards eveninge, his father bad him goe fetch home two kyne to seale,[55] and in the way, in a field called the Ollers, hee chanced to hap upon a boy, who began to quarrell with him, and they fought soe together till this informer had his eares made very bloody by fightinge, and lookinge downe, hee sawe the boy had a cloven foote, at which sight hee was affraid, and ran away from him to seeke the kyne. And in the way hee sawe a light like a lanthorne, towards which he made hast, supposinge it to bee carried by some of Mr. _Robinson's_ people: But when hee came to the place, hee onley found a woman standinge on a bridge, whom, when hee sawe her, he knewe to bee _Loynd_ wife, and knowinge her, he turned backe againe, and immediatly hee met with ye aforesed boy, from whom he offered to run, which boy gave him a blow on the back which caus'd him to cry. And hee farther saith, yt when hee was in the barne, he sawe three women take three pictures from off the beame, in the which pictures many thornes, or such like things sticked, and yt _Loynd_ wife tooke one of the said pictures downe, but thother two women yt tooke thother two pictures downe hee knoweth not.[56] And beeinge further asked, what persons were at ye meeteinge aforesed, hee nominated these persons hereafter mentioned, viz. _Dickonson_ wife, _Henry Priestley_ wife and her sone, _Alice Hargreaves_ widdowe, _Jennet Davies_, _Wm. Davies_, uxor. _Hen. Jacks_ and her sone _John_, _James Hargreaves_ of _Marsden_, _Miles_ wife of _Dicks_, _James_ wife, _Saunders_ sicut credit, _Lawrence_ wife of _Saunders_, _Loynd_ wife, _Buys_ wife of _Barrowford_, one _Holgate_ and his wife sicut credit, _Little Robin_ wife of _Leonard's_, of the _West Cloase_.[57] [Footnote 44: Wheatley-lane is still a place of note in Pendle.] [Footnote 45: Wild plums.] [Footnote 46: It would seem as if a case of witchcraft in Pendle, without a Nutter in some way connected with it, could not occur.] [Footnote 47: What Mr. Robinson is intended does not appear. It was a common name in Pendle. It is, however, a curious fact, that a family of this name, _with the alias of Swyer_, (see Potts, confession of Elizabeth Device,) is even now, or very recently was, to be met with in Pendle, of whom the John Robinson, _alias_ Swyer, one of the supposed victims of Witchcraft, was probably an ancestor. There are few instances of an _alias_ being similarly transmitted in families for upwards of two centuries.] [Footnote 48: Mother Dickenson, as Sir Walter Scott remarks, brings to mind the magician Queen in the Arabian Tales.] [Footnote 49: This house is still standing, and though it has undergone some modernizations, has every appearance of having been built about this period.] [Footnote 50: The old barn, so famous as the scene of these exploits, is no longer extant. A more modern and very substantial one has now been erected on its site.] [Footnote 51: Syleing, from the verb sile or syle, to strain, to pass through a strainer. See Jamieson, under "sile."] [Footnote 52: Frightened.] [Footnote 53: Boggard Hole lies in a hollow, near to Hoarstones, and is still known by that name.] [Footnote 54: "It is the sport to see the engineer hoist with his own petar." Her old occupation as witness having got into other hands, Janet or Jennet Davies, or Device, for the person spoken of appears to be the same with the grand-daughter of Old Demdike, on whose evidence three members of her family were executed, has now to take her place amongst the witnessed against.] [Footnote 55: Seale, from sele, _s._ a yoke for binding cattle in the stall. Sal (A.S.) denotes "a collar or bond." Somner. Sile (Isl.) seems to bear the very same sense with our sele, being exp. a ligament of leather by which cattle and other things are bound. Vide Jamieson, under "sele."] [Footnote 56: Heywood and Broome, in their play, "The late Lancashire Witches," 1634, 4to, follow the terms of this deposition very closely. It is very probable that they had seen and conversed with the boy, to whom, when taken up to London, there was a great resort of company. The Lancashire dialect, as given in this play, and by no means unfaithfully, was perhaps derived from conversations with some of the actors in this drama of real life, a drama quite as extraordinary as any that Heywood's imagination ever bodied forth from the world of fiction. "_Enter Boy with a switch._ _Boy._ Now I have gathered Bullies, and fild my bellie pretty well, i'le goe see some sport. There are gentlemen coursing in the medow hard by; and 'tis a game that I love better than going to Schoole ten to one. _Enter an invisible spirit. J. Adson[D] with a brace of greyhounds._ What have we here a brace of Greyhounds broke loose from their masters: it must needs be so, for they have both their Collers and slippes about their neckes. Now I looke better upon them, me thinks I should know them, and so I do: these are Mr. Robinsons dogges, that dwels some two miles off, i'le take them up, and lead them home to their master; it may be something in my way, for he is as liberall a gentleman, as any is in our countrie, Come Hector, come. Now if I c'ud but start a Hare by the way, kill her, and carry her home to my supper, I should thinke I had made a better afternoones worke of it than gathering of bullies. Come poore curres along with me. _Exit._" * * * * * "_Enter Boy with the Greyhounds._ A Hare, a Hare, halloe, halloe, the Divell take these curres, will they not stir, halloe, halloe, there, there, there, what are they growne so lither and so lazie? Are Mr. Robinsons dogges turn'd tykes with a wanion? the Hare is yet in sight, halloe, halloe, mary hang you for a couple of mungrils (if you were worth hanging,) and have you serv'd me thus? nay then ile serve you with the like sauce, you shall to the next bush, there will I tie you, and use you like a couple of curs as you are, and though not lash you, yet lash you whilest my switch will hold, nay since you have left your speed, ile see if I can put spirit into you, and put you in remembrance what halloe, halloe meanes. _As he beats them, there appeared before him Gooddy_ Dickison, _and the Boy upon the dogs, going in._ Now blesse me heaven, one of the Greyhounds turn'd into a woman, the other into a boy! The lad I never saw before, but her I know well; it is my gammer _Dickison_. _G. Dick._ Sirah, you have serv'd me well to swindge me thus. You yong rogue, you have vs'd me like a dog. _Boy._ When you had put your self into a dogs skin, I pray how c'ud I help it; but gammer are not you a Witch? if you bee, I beg upon my knees you will not hurt me. _Dickis._ Stand up my boie, for thou shalt have no harme, Be silent, speake of nothing thou hast seene. And here's a shilling for thee. _Boy._ Ile have none of your money, gammer, because you are a Witch; and now she is out of her foure leg'd shape, ile see if with my two legs I can out-run her. _Dickis._ Nay sirra, though you be yong, and I old, you are not so nimble, nor I so lame, but I can overtake you. _Boy._ But Gammer what do you meane to do with me Now you have me? _Dickis._ To hugge thee, stroke thee, and embrace thee thus, And teach thee twentie thousand prety things, So thou tell no tales; and boy this night Thou must along with me to a brave feast. _Boy._ Not I gammer indeed la, I dare not stay out late, My father is a fell man, and if I bee out long, will both chide and beat me. _Dickis._ Not sirra, then perforce thou shalt along, This bridle helps me still at need, And shall provide us of a steed. Now sirra, take your shape and be Prepar'd to hurrie him and me. _Exit._ Now looke and tell mee wher's the lad become. _Boy._ The boy is vanisht, and I can see nothing in his stead But a white horse readie sadled and bridled. _Dickis._ And thats the horse we must bestride, On which both thou and I must ride, Thou boy before and I behinde, The earth we tread not, but the winde, For we must progresse through the aire, And I will bring thee to such fare As thou ne're saw'st, up and away, For now no longer we can stay. _She catches him up, and turning round._ _Boy._ Help, help. _Exit._" * * * * * "_Rob._ What place is this? it looks like an old barne: ile peep in at some cranny or other, and try if I can see what they are doing. Such a bevy of beldames did I never behold; and cramming like so many Cormorants: Marry choke you with a mischiefe. _Gooddy Dickison._ Whoope, whurre, heres a sturre, Never a cat, never a curre, But that we must have this demurre. _Mal._ A second course. _Mrs. Gen._ Pull, and pull hard For all that hath lately him prepar'd For the great wedding feast. _Mall._ As chiefe Of Doughtyes Surloine of rost Beefe. _All._ Ha, ha, ha. _Meg._ 'Tis come, 'tis come. _Mawd._ Where hath it all this while beene? _Meg._ Some Delay hath kept it, now 'tis here, For bottles next of wine and beere, The Merchants cellers they shall pay for't. _Mrs. Gener._ Well, What sod or rost meat more, pray tell. _Good. Dick._ Pul for the Poultry, Foule, and Fish, For emptie shall not be a dish. _Robin._ A pox take them, must only they feed upon hot meat, and I upon nothing but cold sallads. _Mrs. Gener._ This meat is tedious, now some Farie, Fetch what belongs unto the Dairie, _Mal._ Thats Butter, Milk, Whey, Curds and Cheese, Wee nothing by the bargaine leese. _All._ Ha, ha, ha. _Goody Dickison._ Boy, theres meat for you. _Boy._ Thanke you. _Gooddy Dickis._ And drinke too. _Meg._ What Beast was by thee hither rid? _Mawd._ A Badger nab. _Meg._ And I bestrid A Porcupine that never prickt. _Mal._ The dull sides of a Beare I kickt. I know how you rid, Lady Nan. _Mrs. Gen._ Ha, ha, ha, upon the knave my man. _Rob._ A murrein take you, I am sure my hoofes payd for't. _Boy._ Meat lie there, for thou hast no taste, and drinke there, for thou hast no relish, for in neither of them is there either salt or savour. _All._ Pull for the posset, pull. _Robin._ The brides posset on my life, nay if they come to their spoone meat once, I hope theil breake up their feast presently. _Mrs. Gen._ So those that are our waiters nere, Take hence this Wedding cheere. We will be lively all, And make this barn our hall. _Gooddy Dick._ You our Familiers, come. In speech let all be dumbe, And to close up our Feast, To welcome every gest A merry round let's daunce. _Meg._ Some Musicke then ith aire Whilest thus by paire and paire, We nimbly foot it; strike. _Musick._ _Mal._ We are obeyd. _Sprite._ And we hels ministers shall lend our aid. _Dance and Song together. In the time of which the Boy speakes._ _Boy._ Now whilest they are in their jollitie, and do not mind me, ile steale away, and shift for my selfe, though I lose my life for't. _Exit._" * * * * * "_Dought._ He came to thee like a Boy thou sayest, about thine own bignesse? _Boy._ Yes Sir, and he asked me where I dwelt, and what my name was. _Dough._ Ah Rogue! _Boy._ But it was in a quarrelsome way; Whereupon I was as stout, and ask'd him who made him an examiner? _Dough._ Ah good Boy. _Mil._ In that he was my Sonne. _Boy._ He told me he would know or beat it out of me, And I told him he should not, and bid him doe his worst; And to't we went. _Dough._ In that he was my sonne againe, ha boy; I see him at it now. _Boy._ We fought a quarter of an houre, till his sharpe nailes made my eares bleed. _Dough._ O the grand Divell pare 'em. _Boy._ I wondred to finde him so strong in my hands, seeming but of mine owne age and bignesse, till I looking downe, perceived he had clubb'd cloven feet like Oxe feet; but his face was as young as mine. _Dought._ A pox, but by his feet, he may be the Club-footed Horse-coursers father, for all his young lookes. _Boy._ But I was afraid of his feet, and ran from him towards a light that I saw, and when I came to it, it was one of the Witches in white upon a Bridge, that scar'd me backe againe, and then met me the Boy againe, and he strucke me and layd mee for dead. _Mil._ Till I wondring at his stay, went out and found him in the Trance; since which time, he has beene haunted and frighted with Goblins, 40 times; and never durst tell any thing (as I sayd) because the Hags had so threatned him till in his sicknes he revealed it to his mother. _Dough._ And she told no body but folkes on't. Well Gossip Gretty, as thou art a Miller, and a close thiefe, now let us keepe it as close as we may till we take 'hem, and see them handsomly hanged o'the way: Ha my little Cuffe-divell, thou art a made man. Come, away with me. _Exeunt._" Heywood and Broome's _Late Lancashire Witches_, Acts 2 and 3.] [Footnote D: _Sic in orig._] [Footnote 57: These names are thus given in Baines's Transcript:-- "Dickensons Henrie Priestleyes wife and his ladd Alice Hargrave, widdowe Jane Davies (als. Jennet Device) William Davies The wife of Henrie Offep and her sonnes John and Myles The wife of Duckers James Hargrave of Maresden Loyards wife James wife Sanders wife, And as hee beleeveth Lawnes wife Sander Pynes wife of Baraford One Foolegate and his wife And Leonards of the West Close." And thus in Webster:-- "Dickensons Wife, Henry Priestleys Wife, and his Lad, Alice Hargreene Widow, Jane Davies, William Davies, and the Wife of Henry Fackes, and her Sons John and Miles, the Wife of ---- Denneries, James Hargreene of Marsdead, Loynd's Wife, one James his Wife, Saunders his Wife, and Saunders himself _sicut credit_, one Laurence his Wife, one Saunder Pyn's Wife of Barraford, one Holgate and his Wife of Leonards of the West close."] "_Edmund Robinson_ of _Pendle_, father of ye sd _Edmunde Robinson_, the aforesaid informer, upon oath saith, that upon _All Saints' Day_, he sent his sone, the aforesed informer, to fetch home two kyne to seale, and saith yt hee thought his sone stayed longer than he should have done, went to seeke him, and in seekinge him, heard him cry very pittifully, and found him soe afraid and distracted, yt hee neither knew his father, nor did know where he was, and so continued very neare a quarter of an hower before he came to himselfe,[58] and he tould this informer, his father, all the particular passages yt are before declared in the said _Edmund Robinson_, his sone's information." [Footnote 58: The learned "practitioner in physick," Mr. William Drage, in his "Treatise of Diseases from Witchcraft," published Lond. 1668, 4to. p. 22, recommends "birch" in such cases, "as a specifical medicine, antipathetical to demons." One can only lament that this valuable remedy was not vigorously applied in the present instance, as well as in most others in which these juvenile sufferers appear. I doubt whether, in the whole Materia Medica, a more powerful _Lamia-fuge_ could have been discovered, or one which would have been more universally successful, if applied perseveringly, whenever the suspicious symptoms recurred. The following is, however, Drage's great panacea in these cases, a mode of treatment which must have been vastly popular, judging from its extensive adoption in all parts of the country: "_Punish the witch, threaten to hang her if she helps not the sick, scratch her and fetch blood. When she is cast into prison the sick are some time delivered, some time he or she (they are most females, most old women, and most poor,) must transfer the disease to other persons, sometimes to a dog, or horse, or cow, &c. Threaten her and beat her to remove it._"--Drage, p. 23.] The name of Margaret Johnson does not appear in Edmund Robinson's examination. Whether accused or not, the opportunity was too alluring to be lost by a personage full of matter, being like old Mause Headrigg, "as a bottle that lacketh vent," and too desirous of notoriety, to let slip such an occasion. She made, on the 2nd of March following, before the same justices who had taken Robinson's examination, the following confession, which must have been considered a most instructive one by those who were in search of some short _vade mecum_ of the statistics of witchcraft in Pendle:-- "THE CONFESSION OF MARGARET JOHNSON. "That betwixt seaven and eight yeares since, shee beeinge in her owne house in _Marsden_, in a greate passion of anger and discontent, and withall pressed with some want, there appeared unto her a spirit or devill in ye proportion or similitude of a man, apparrelled in a suite of blacke, tyed about with silk points, who offered yt if shee would give him her soule hee would supply all her wants, and bringe to her whatsoever shee did neede. And at her appointment would in revenge either kill or hurt whom or what shee desyred, weare it man or beast. And saith, yt after a solicitation or two shee contracted and covenanted with ye said devill for her soule. And yt ye said devill or spirit badde her call him by the name of _Mamilian_. And when shee would have him to doe any thinge for her, call in _Mamilian_, and hee would bee ready to doe her will. And saith, yt in all her talke or conference shee calleth her said devill, _Mamil_ my God. Shee further saith, yt ye said _Mamilian_, her devill, (by her consent) did abuse and defile her body by comittinge wicked uncleannesse together. And saith, yt shee was not at the greate meetings at _Hoarestones_, at the forest of _Pendle_, upon All-Saints Day, where ----. But saith yt shee was at a second meetinge ye Sunday next after All-Saints Day, at the place aforesaid; where there was at yt tyme between 30 and 40 witches, who did all ride to the said meetinge, and the end of theire said meeting was to consult for the killinge and hurtinge of men and beasts. And yt besides theire particular familiars or spirits, there was one greate or grand devill or spirit more eminent than the rest. And if any desyre to have a greate and more wonderfull devill, whereby they may have more power to hurt, they may have one such. And sayth, yt such witches as have sharp bones given them by the devill to pricke them, have no pappes or dugges whereon theire devill may sucke, but theire devill receiveth bloud from the place, pricked with the bone. And they are more grand witches than any yt have marks. Shee allsoe saith, yt if a witch have but one marke, shee hath but one spirit, if two then two spirits, if three yet but two spirits. And saith, yt theire spirits usually have knowledge of theire bodies. And being desyred to name such as shee knewe to be witches, shee named, &c.[59] And if they would torment a man, they bid theire spirit goe and tormt. him in any particular place. And yt Good-Friday is one constant day for a yearely generall meetinge of witches. And yt on Good-Friday last, they had a meetinge neare _Pendle_ water syde. Shee alsoe saith, that men witches usually have women spirits, and women witches men spirits. And theire devill or spirit gives them notice of theire meetinge, and tells them the place where it must bee. And saith, if they desyre to be in any place upon a sodaine, theire devill or spirit will upon a rodde, dogge, or any thinge els, presently convey them thither: yea, into any roome of a man's house. But shee saith it is not the substance of theire bodies, but theire spirit assumeth such form and shape as goe into such roomes. Shee alsoe saith, yt ye devill (after he begins to sucke) will make a pappe or dugge in a short tyme, and the matter which hee sucks is blood. And saith yt theire devills can cause foule weather and storms, and soe did at theire meetings. Shee alsoe saith yt when her devill did come to sucke her pappe, hee usually came to her in ye liknes of a cat, sometymes of one colour and sometymes of an other. And yt since this trouble befell her, her spirit hath left her, and shee never sawe him since." [Footnote 59: The omission here is thus supplied in Baines's Transcript; but the actual names are scarcely to be recognised, from the clerical errors of the copy:-- "One Pickerne and his wife both of Wyndwall, Rawson of Clore and his wife Duffice wife of Clore by the water side Cartmell the wife of Clore And Jane of the hedgend in Maresden."] On the evidence contained in these examinations several persons were committed for trial at Lancaster, and seventeen, on being tried at the ensuing assizes, were found guilty by the jury. The judge before whom the trial took place was, however, more sagacious and enlightened than his predecessors, Bromley and Altham. He respited the execution of the prisoners; and on the case being reported to the king in council, the Bishop of Chester, Dr. Bridgman, was required to investigate the circumstances. The inquiry was instituted at Chester, and four of the convicted witches, namely, Margaret Johnson, Frances Dickonson, Mary Spencer, and the wife of one of the Hargreaves's, were sent to London, and examined, first by the king's physicians and surgeons, and afterwards by Charles the first in person. "A stranger scene" to quote Dr. Whitaker's concluding paragraph "can scarcely be conceived; and it is not easy to imagine whether the untaught manners, rude dialect, and uncouth appearance of these poor foresters, would more astonish the king; or his dignity of person and manners, together with the splendid scene with which they were surrounded, would overwhelm them. The end, however, of the business was, that strong presumptions appeared of the boy having been suborned to accuse them falsely, and they were accordingly dismissed. The boy afterwards confessed that he was suborned."[60] [Footnote 60: Webster gives the sequel of this curious case of imposture:--"Four of them, to wit Margaret Johnson, Francis Dicconson, Mary Spenser, and Hargraves Wife, were sent for up to London, and were viewed and examined by his Majesties Physicians and Chirurgeons, and after by his Majesty and the Council, and no cause of guilt appearing but great presumptions of the boys being suborned to accuse them falsely. Therefore it was resolved to separate the boy from his Father, they having both followed the women up to London, they were both taken and put into several prisons asunder. Whereupon shortly after the Boy confessed that he was taught and suborned to devise, and feign those things against them, and had persevered in that wickedness by the counsel of his Father, and some others, whom envy, revenge and hope of gain had prompted on to that devillish design and villany; and he also confessed, that upon that day when he said that they met at the aforesaid house or barn, he was that very day a mile off, getting Plums in his Neighbours Orchard. And that this is a most certain truth, there are many persons yet living, of sufficient reputation and integrity, that can avouch and testifie the same; and besides, what I write is the most of it true, upon my own knowledge, and the whole I have had from his own mouth."--_Displaying of Witchcraft_, p. 277.] In Dr. Whitaker's astonishment that Margaret Johnson should make the confession she appears to have done, in a clear case of imposture, few of his readers will be disposed to participate, who are at all conversant with the trials of reputed witches in this country. Confessions were so common on those occasions, that there is, I believe, not a single instance of any great number of persons being convicted of witchcraft at one time, some of whom did not make a confession of guilt. Nor is there anything extraordinary in that circumstance, when it is remembered that many of them sincerely believed in the existence of the powers attributed to them; and others, aged and of weak understanding, were, in a measure, coerced by the strong persuasion of their guilt, which all around them manifested, into an acquiescence in the truth of the accusation. In many cases the confessions were made in the hope, and no doubt with the promise, seldom performed, that a respite from punishment would be eventually granted. In other instances, there is as little doubt, that they were the final results of irritation, agony, and despair.[61] The confessions are generally composed of "such stuff as dreams are made of," and what they report to have occurred, might either proceed, when there was no intention to fabricate, from intertwining the fantastic threads which sometimes stream upon the waking senses from the land of shadows, or be caused by those ocular hallucinations of which medical science has supplied full and satisfactory solution. There is no argument which so long maintained its ground in support of witchcraft as that which was founded on the confessions referred to. It was the last plank clung to by many a witch-believing lawyer and divine. And yet there is none which will less bear critical scrutiny and examination, or the fallacy of which can more easily be shown, if any particular reported confession is taken as a test and subjected to a searching analysis and inquiry. [Footnote 61: The confession in the "Amber Witch" is a true picture, drawn from the life. What is there, indeed, unlike truth in that wonderful fiction?] It is said that we owe to the grave and saturnine Monarch, who extended his pardon to the seventeen convicted in 1633, that happy generalisation of the term, which appropriates honourably to the sex in Lancashire the designation denoting the fancied crime of a few miserable victims of superstition. That gentle sex will never repudiate a title bestowed by one, little given to the playful sports of fancy, whose sorrows and unhappy fate have never wanted their commiseration, and who distinguished himself on this memorable occasion, at a period when "'twas the time's plague That madmen led the blind," --in days when philosophy stumbled and murder arrayed itself in the robes of justice--by an enlightened exercise of the kingly prerogative of mercy. Proceeding from such a fountain of honour, and purified by such an appropriation, the title of witch has long lost its original opprobrium in the County Palatine, and survives only to call forth the gayest and most delightful associations. In process of time even the term _witchfinder_ may lose the stains which have adhered to it from the atrocities of Hopkins, and may be adopted by general usage, as a sort of companion phrase, to signify the fortunate individual, who, by an union with a Lancashire witch, has just asserted his indefeasible title to be considered as the happiest of men. J.C. THE WONDERFVLL DISCOVERIE OF WITCHES, &c. THE WONDERFVLL DISCOVERIE OF WITCHES IN THE COVNTIE OF LANCASTER. With the Arraignement and Triall of Nineteene notorious WITCHES, at the Assizes and generall Gaole deliuerie, holden at the Castle of LANCASTER, _vpon Munday, the seuenteenth_ _of August last_, 1612. Before Sir IAMES ALTHAM, and Sir EDWARD BROMLEY, Knights; BARONS of his Maiesties Court of EXCHEQVER: And Iustices _of Assize_, Oyer _and_ Terminor, _and generall_ Gaole deliuerie in the circuit of the _North Parts._ Together with the Arraignement and Triall of IENNET PRESTON, _at the Assizes holden at the Castle of Yorke_, _the seuen and twentieth day of Iulie last past_, with her Execution for the murther of Master LISTER _by Witchcraft._ Published and set forth by commandement of his Maiesties Iustices of Assize in the North Parts. _By_ THOMAS POTTS _Esquier._ * * * * * LONDON, Printed by _W. Stansby_ for _John Barnes_, dwelling neare Holborne Conduit. 1613. [Illustration: decoration] TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE, _THOMAS_, LORD KNYVET, BARON OF ESCRICK[A1] in the Countie of Yorke, my very honorable _good Lord and Master._ AND TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE _AND VERTVOVS LADIE, THE_ _Ladie_ ELIZABETH KNYVET _his Wife, my_ honorable good Ladie and MISTRIS. * * * * * RIGHT HONORABLE, _Let it stand (I beseech you) with your fauours whom profession of the same true Religion towards God, and so great loue hath vnited together in one, Jointly to accept the Protection and Patronage of these my labours, which not their owne worth hath encouraged, but your Worthinesse hath enforced me to consecrate vnto your Honours._ _To you (Right Honourable my very good Lord) of Right doe they belong: for to whom shall I rather present their first fruits of my learning then to your Lordship: who nourished then both mee and them, when there was scarce any being to mee or them? And whose iust and vpright carriage of causes, whose zeale to Justice and Honourable curtesie to all men, have purchased you a Reuerend and worthie Respect of all men in all partes of this Kingdome, where you are knowne. And to your good Ladiship they doe of great right belong likewise; Whose Religion, Iustice, and Honourable admittance of my Vnworthie Seruice to your Ladiship do challenge at my handes the vttermost of what euer I may bee able to performe._ _Here is nothing of my own act worthie to bee commended to your Honours, it is the worke, of those Reuerend Magistrates, His Maiesties Iustices of Assizes in the North partes, and no more then a Particular Declaration of the proceedings of Iustice in those partes. Here shall you behold the Iustice of this Land, truely administred_, PROEMIUM & POENAM, _Mercie and Iudgement, freely and indifferently bestowed and inflicted; And aboue all thinges to bee remembred, the excellent care of these Iudges in the Triall of offendors._ _It hath pleased them out of their respect to mee to impose this worke vpon mee, and according to my vnderstanding, I haue taken paines to finish, and now confirmed by their Iudgement to publish the same, for the benefit of my Countrie. That the example of these conuicted vpon their owne Examinations, Confessions, and Euidence at the Barre, may worke good in others, Rather by with-holding them from, then imboldening them to, the Atchieuing such desperate actes as these or the like._ _These are some part of the fruits of my time spent in the Seruice of my Countrie, Since by your Graue and Reuerend Counsell (my Good Lord) I reduced my wauering and wandring thoughts to a more quiet harbour of repose._ _If it please your Honours to giue them your Honourable respect, the world may iudge them the more worthie of acceptance, to whose various censures they are now exposed._ _God of Heauen whose eies are on them that feare him, to bee their Protector and guide, behold your Honours with the eye of fauor, be euermore your strong hold, and your great reward, and blesse you with blessings in this life, Externall and Internall, Temporall and Spirituall, and with Eternall happines in the World to come: to which I commend your Honours; And rest both now and euer, From my Lodging in Chancerie Lane, the sixteenth of Nouember 1612._ Your Honours humbly deuoted Seruant, _Thomas Potts._ * * * * * Vpon the Arraignement and triall of these Witches at the last Assizes and Generall Gaole-deliuerie, holden at Lancaster, wee found such apparent matters against them, that we thought it necessarie to publish them to the World, and thereupon imposed the labour of this Worke vpon this Gentleman, by reason of his place, being a Clerke at that time in Court, imploied in the Arraignement and triall of them. _Ja. Altham._ _Edw. Bromley._[A2] * * * * * _After he had taken great paines to finish it, I tooke vpon mee to reuise and correct it, that nothing might passe but matter of Fact, apparant against them by record. It is very little he hath inserted, and that necessarie, to shew what their offences were, what people, and of what condition they were: The whole proceedings and Euidence against them, I finde vpon examination carefully set forth, and truely reported, and iudge the worke fit and worthie to be published._ Edward Bromley.[A3] * * * * * Gentle Reader, although the care of this Gentleman the Author, was great to examine and publish this his worke perfect according to the Honorable testimonie of the Iudges, yet some faults are committed by me in the Printing, and yet not many, being a worke done in such great haste, at the end of a Tearme, which I pray you, with your fauour to excuse. * * * * * [Illustration] [Illustration: decoration] A particular Declaration of the most barberous and damnable Practises, Murthers, wicked and diuelish Conspiracies, practized _and executed by the most dangerous and malitious_ Witch _Elizabeth Sowthernes_ alias _Demdike_, of the Forrest of _Pendle_ in the Countie of _Lancaster_ Widdow, who died in the Castle at _Lancaster_ before she came to receiue her tryall. Though publique iustice hath passed at these Assises vpon the Capitall offendours, and after the Arraignement & tryall of them, Iudgement being giuen, due and timely Execution succeeded; which doth import and giue the greatest satisfaction that can be, to all men; yet because vpon the caryage, and euent of this businesse, the Eyes of all the partes of _Lancashire_, and other Counties in the North partes thereunto adioyning were bent: And so infinite a multitude came to the Arraignement & tryall of these Witches at _Lancaster_, the number of them being knowen to exceed all others at any time heretofore, at one time to be indicted, arraigned, and receiue their tryall,[B_a_] especially for so many Murders, Conspiracies, Charmes, Meetinges, hellish and damnable practises, so apparant vpon their owne examinations & confessions. These my honourable & worthy Lords, the Iudges of Assise, vpon great consideration, thought it necessarie & profitable, to publish to the whole world, their most barbarous and damnable practises, with the direct proceedinges of the Court against them, aswell for that there doe passe diuers vncertaine reportes and relations of such Euidences, as was publiquely giuen against them at their Arraignement. As for that diuers came to prosecute against many of them that were not found guiltie, and so rest very discontented, and not satisfied. As also for that it is necessary for men to know and vnderstande the meanes whereby they worke their mischiefe, the hidden misteries of their diuelish and wicked Inchauntmentes, Charmes, and Sorceries, the better to preuent and auoyde the danger that may ensue. And lastly, who were the principall authors and actors in this late woefull and lamentable _Tragedie_, wherein so much Blood was spilt. Therefore I pray you giue me leaue, (with your patience and fauour,) before I proceed to the Indictment, Arraignement, and Tryall of such as were prisoners in the Castle, to lay open the life and death of this damnable and malicious Witch, of so long continuance (old _Demdike_) of whom our whole businesse hath such dependence, that without the particular Declaration and Record of her Euidence, with the circumstaunces, wee shall neuer bring any thing to good perfection: for from this Sincke of villanie and mischiefe, haue all the rest proceeded; as you shall haue them in order. She was a very old woman, about the age of Fourescore[B_b_] yeares, and had been a Witch for fiftie yeares. Shee dwelt in the Forrest of _Pendle_, a vaste place, fitte for her profession: What shee committed in her time, no man knowes. Thus liued shee securely for many yeares, brought vp her owne Children, instructed her Graund-children, and tooke great care and paines to bring them to be Witches. Shee was a generall agent for the Deuill in all these partes: no man escaped her, or her Furies, that euer gaue them any occasion of offence, or denyed them any thing they stood need of: And certaine it is, no man neere them, was secure or free from danger. But God, who had in his diuine prouidence prouided to cut them off, and roote them out of the Commonwealth, so disposed aboue, that the Iustices of those partes, vnderstanding by a generall charme and muttering, the great and vniuersall resort to _Maulking Tower_, the common opinion, with the report of these suspected people, the complaint of the Kinges subiectes for the losse of their Children, Friendes, Goodes, and Cattle, (as there could not be so great Fire without some Smoake,) sent for some of the Countrey, and tooke great paynes to enquire after their proceedinges, and courses of life. In the end, _Roger Nowell_ Esquire,[B2_a_] one of his Maiesties Iustices in these partes, a very religious honest Gentleman, painefull in the seruice of his Countrey: whose fame for this great seruice to his Countrey, shall liue after him, tooke vpon him to enter into the particular examination of these suspected persons: And to the honour of God, and the great comfort of all his Countrey, made such a discouery of them in order, as the like hath not been heard of: which for your better satisfaction, I haue heere placed in order against her, as they are vpon Record, amongst the Recordes of the _Crowne_ at _Lancaster_, certified by M. _Nowell_, and others. [Illustration: decoration] The voluntarie Confession and Examination of _Elizabeth Sowtherns_ alias _Demdike_, taken at the Fence in the Forrest of _Pendle_ in the Countie of _Lancaster._ The second day of Aprill, _Annoq; Regni Regis Iacobi Anggliæ, &c. Decimo, et Scotiæ, Quadragesimo quinto;_ Before _Roger Nowell_ of _Reade_ Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of the peace within the sayd Countie, _Viz._ The said _Elizabeth Sowtherns_ confesseth, and sayth; That about twentie yeares past, as she was comming homeward from begging, there met her this Examinate neere vnto a Stonepit in _Gouldshey_,[B2_b_1] in the sayd Forrest of _Pendle_, a Spirit or Deuill in the shape of a Boy, the one halfe of his Coate blacke, and the other browne, who bade this Examinate stay, saying to her, that if she would giue him her Soule, she should haue any thing that she would request. Wherevpon this Examinat demaunded his name? and the Spirit answered, his name was _Tibb_:[B2_b_2] and so this Examinate in hope of such gaine as was promised by the sayd Deuill or _Tibb_, was contented to giue her Soule to the said Spirit: And for the space of fiue or sixe yeares next after, the sayd Spirit or Deuill appeared at sundry times vnto her this Examinate about _Day-light_ Gate,[B2_b_3] alwayes bidding her stay, and asking her this Examinate what she would haue or doe? To whom this Examinate replyed, Nay nothing: for she this Examinate said, she wanted nothing yet. And so about the end of the said sixe yeares, vpon a Sabboth day in the morning, this Examinate hauing a litle Child vpon her knee, and she being in a slumber, the sayd Spirit appeared vnto her in the likenes of a browne Dogg, forcing himselfe to her knee, to get blood vnder her left Arme: and she being without any apparrell sauing her Smocke, the said Deuill did get blood vnder her left arme.[B3_a_1] And this Examinate awaking, sayd, _Iesus saue my Child_; but had no power, nor could not say, _Iesus saue her selfe_: wherevpon the Browne Dogge vanished out of this Examinats sight: after which, this Examinate was almost starke madd for the space of eight weekes. And vpon her examination, she further confesseth, and saith. That a little before Christmas last, this Examinates Daughter hauing been to helpe _Richard Baldwyns_ Folkes at the Mill: This Examinates Daughter did bid her this Examinate goe to the sayd _Baldwyns_ house, and aske him some thing for her helping of his Folkes at the Mill, (as aforesaid:) and in this Examinates going to the said _Baldwyns_ house, and neere to the sayd house, she mette with the said _Richard Baldwyn_; Which _Baldwyn_ sayd to this Examinate, and the said _Alizon Deuice_[B3_a_3] (who at that time ledde this Examinate, being blinde) get out of my ground Whores and Witches, I will burne the one of you, and hang the other.[B3_a_2] To whom this Examinate answered: I care not for thee, hang thy selfe: Presently wherevpon, at this Examinates going ouer the next hedge, the said Spirit or Diuell called _Tibb_, appeared vnto this Examinat, and sayd, _Reuenge thee of him_. To whom, this Examinate sayd againe to the said Spirit. _Revenge thee eyther of him, or his._ And so the said Spirit vanished out of her sight, and she neuer saw him since. And further this Examinate confesseth, and sayth, that the speediest way to take a mans life away by Witchcraft, is to make a Picture of Clay,[B3_b_] like vnto the shape of the person whom they meane to kill, & dry it thorowly: and when they would haue them to be ill in any one place more then an other; then take a Thorne or Pinne, and pricke it in that part of the Picture you would so haue to be ill: and when you would haue any part of the Body to consume away, then take that part of the Picture, and burne it. And when they would haue the whole body to consume away, then take the remnant of the sayd Picture, and burne it: and so therevpon by that meanes, the body shall die. * * * * * The Confession and Examination of Anne Whittle _alias_ Chattox, being Prisoner at _Lancaster_; taken the 19 day of May, _Annoq; Regni Regis Iacobi Angliæ, Decimo: ac Scotie Quadragesimo quinto_; Before _William Sandes_ Maior of the Borrough towne of _Lancaster._ _Iames Anderton_ of _Clayton_, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the same County, and _Thomas Cowell_ one of his Maiesties Coroners in the sayd Countie of Lancaster, _Viz._ First, the sayd _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, sayth, that about foureteene yeares past she entered, through the wicked perswasions and counsell of _Elizabeth Southerns_, alias _Demdike_, and was seduced to condescend & agree to become subiect vnto that diuelish abhominable profession of Witchcraft: Soone after which, the Deuill appeared vnto her in the liknes of a Man, about midnight, at the house of the sayd _Demdike_: and therevpon the sayd _Demdike_ and shee, went foorth of the said house vnto him; wherevpon the said wicked Spirit mooued this Examinate, that she would become his Subiect, and giue her Soule vnto him: the which at first, she refused to assent vnto; but after, by the great perswasions made by the sayd _Demdike_, shee yeelded to be at his commaundement and appoyntment: wherevpon the sayd wicked Spirit then sayd vnto her, that hee must haue one part of her body for him to sucke vpon; the which shee denyed then to graunt vnto him; and withall asked him, what part of her body hee would haue for that vse; who said, hee would haue a place of her right side neere to her ribbes, for him to sucke vpon: whereunto shee assented. And she further sayth, that at the same time, there was a thing in the likenes of a spotted Bitch, that came with the sayd Spirit vnto the sayd _Demdike_, which then did speake vnto her in this Examinates hearing, and sayd, that she should haue Gould, Siluer, and worldly Wealth, at her will.[B4_b_1] And at the same time she saith, there was victuals, _viz._ Flesh, Butter, Cheese, Bread, and Drinke, and bidde them eate enough. And after their eating, the Deuill called _Fancie_, and the other Spirit calling himselfe _Tibbe_, carried the remnant away: And she sayeth, that although they did eate, they were neuer the fuller, nor better for the same; and that at their said Banquet, the said Spirits gaue them light to see what they did, although they neyther had fire nor Candle light; and that they were both shee Spirites, and Diuels. And being further examined how many sundry Person haue been bewitched to death, and by whom they were so bewitched: She sayth, that one _Robert Nuter_, late of the _Greene-head_ in _Pendle_, was bewitched by this Examinate, the said _Demdike_, and Widdow _Lomshawe_, (late of _Burneley_) now deceased. And she further sayth, that the said _Demdike_ shewed her, that she had bewitched to death, _Richard Ashton_, Sonne of _Richard Ashton_ of _Downeham_ Esquire.[B4_b_2] * * * * * The Examination of Alizon Deuice, of the Forrest of Pendle, in the County of _Lancaster_ Spinster, taken at _Reade_ in the said Countie of _Lancaster_, the xiij. day of March, _Anno Regni Jacobi Angliæ, &c._ _Nono: et Scotiæ xlv._ Before _Roger Nowell_ of _Reade_ aforesayd Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace within the sayd Countie, against _Elizabeth Sowtherns_, alias _Demdike_ her Graund-mother. _Viz._ The sayd _Alizon Deuice_ sayth, that about two yeares agon, her Graund-mother (called _Elizabeth Sowtherns_, alias old _Demdike_) did sundry times in going or walking togeather as they went begging, perswade and aduise this Examinate to let a Deuill or Familiar appeare vnto her; and that shee this Examinate, would let him sucke at some part of her, and shee might haue, and doe what shee would. And she further sayth, that one _Iohn Nutter_ of the _Bulhole_ in _Pendle_ aforesaid, had a Cow which was sicke, & requested this examinats Grand-mother to amend the said Cow; and her said Graund-mother said she would, and so her said Graund-mother about ten of the clocke in the night, desired this examinate to lead her foorth; which this Examinate did, being then blind: and her Graund-mother did remaine about halfe an houre foorth: and this Examinates sister did fetch her in againe; but what she did when she was so foorth, this Examinate cannot tell. But the next morning this Examinate heard that the sayd Cow was dead. And this Examinate verily thinketh, that her sayd Graund-mother did bewitch the sayd Cow to death. And further, this Examinate sayth, that about two yeares agon, this Examinate hauing gotten a Piggin full[C_b_] of blew Milke by begging, brought it into the house of her Graund-mother, where (this Examinate going foorth presently, and staying about halfe an houre) there was Butter to the quantity of a quarterne of a pound in the said milke, and the quantitie of the said milke still remayning; and her Graund-mother had no Butter in the house when this Examinate went foorth: duering which time, this Examinates Graund-mother still lay in her bed. And further this Examinate sayth, that _Richard Baldwin_ of _Weethead_ within the Forrest of _Pendle_, about 2. yeeres agoe, fell out with this Examinates Graund-mother, & so would not let her come vpon his Land: and about foure or fiue dayes then next after, her said Graund-mother did request this Examinate to lead her foorth about ten of the clocke in the night: which this Examinate accordingly did, and she stayed foorth then about an houre, and this Examinates sister fetched her in againe. And this Examinate heard the next morning, that a woman Child of the sayd _Richard Baldwins_ was fallen sicke; and as this Examinate did then heare, the sayd Child did languish afterwards by the space of a yeare, or thereaboutes, and dyed: And this Examinate verily thinketh, that her said Graund-mother did bewitch the sayd Child to death. And further, this Examinate sayth, that she heard her sayd Graund-mother say presently after her falling out with the sayd _Baldwin_, shee would pray for the sayd _Baldwin_ both still and loude: and this Examinate heard her cursse the sayd _Baldwin_ sundry times. * * * * * The Examination of _Iames Deuice_ of the Forrest of _Pendle_, in the Countie of _Lancaster_ Labourer, taken the 27. day of April, _Annoq; Regni Regis Iacobi, Angliæ, &c._ _Decimo: ac Scotie Quadragesimo quinto_: Before _Roger Nowell and Nicholas Banister, Esq._[C2_a_] two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the sayd Countie. The sayd Examinate _Iames Deuice_ sayth, that about a month agoe, as this Examinate was comming towards his Mothers house, and at day-gate of the same night, [Sidenote: _Euening_] this Examinate mette a browne Dogge comming from his Graund-mothers house, about tenne Roodes distant from the same house: and about two or three nights after, that this Examinate heard a voyce of a great number of Children screiking and crying pittifully, about day-light gate; and likewise, about ten Roodes distant of this Examinates sayd Graund-mothers house. And about fiue nights then next following, presently after daylight, within 20. Roodes of the sayd _Elizabeth Sowtherns_ house, he heard a foule yelling like vnto a great number of Cattes: but what they were, this Examinate cannot tell. And he further sayth, that about three nights after that, about midnight of the same, there came a thing, and lay vpon him very heauily about an houre, and went then from him out of his Chamber window, coloured blacke, and about the bignesse of a Hare or Catte. And he further sayth, that about _S. Peter's_ day last, one _Henry Bullocke_ came to the sayd _Elizabeth Sowtherns_ house, and sayd, that her Graund-child _Alizon Deuice_, had bewitched a Child of his, and desired her that she would goe with him to his house; which accordingly she did: And therevpon she the said _Alizon_ fell downe on her knees, & asked the said _Bullocke_ forgiuenes, and confessed to him, that she had bewitched the said child, as this Examinate heard his said sister confesse vnto him this Examinate. [Illustration: decoration] The Examination of Elizabeth Deuice, Daughter of old Demdike, taken at _Read_ before _Roger Nowell_ Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the Countie of _Lancaster_ the xxx. day of March, _Annoq; Regni Jacobi_ _Decimo, ac Scotie xlv._ The sayd _Elizabeth Deuice_ the Examinate, sayth, that the sayd _Elizabeth Sowtherns_, alias _Demdike_, hath had a place on her left side by the space of fourty yeares, in such sort, as was to be seene at this Examinates Examination taking, at this present time. Heere this worthy Iustice M. _Nowell_, out of these particular Examinations, or rather Accusations, finding matter to proceed; and hauing now before him old _Demdike_, old _Chattox_, _Alizon Deuice_, and _Redferne_ both old and young, _Reos confitentes, et Accusantes Inuicem_. About the second of Aprill last past, committed and sent them away to the Castle at _Lancaster_, there to remaine vntill the comming of the Kinges Maiesties Iustices of Assise, then to receiue their tryall. But heere they had not stayed a weeke, when their Children and Friendes being abroad at libertie, laboured a speciall meeting at _Malking Tower_ in the Forrest of _Pendle_,[C3_a_] vpon Good-fryday, within a weeke after they were committed, of all the most dangerous, wicked, and damnable Witches in the County farre and neere. Vpon Good-fryday they met, according to solemne appoyntment, solemnized this great Feastiuall day according to their former order, with great cheare, merry company, and much conference. In the end, in this great Assemblie, it was decreed M. _Couell_ by reason of his Office, shall be slaine before the next Assises: The Castle of _Lancaster_ to be blowen vp, and ayde and assistance to be sent to kill M. _Lister_, with his old Enemie and wicked Neighbour _Iennet Preston_; with some other such like practices: as vpon their Arraignement and Tryall, are particularly set foorth, and giuen in euidence against them. This was not so secret, but some notice of it came to M. _Nowell_, and by his great paines taken in the Examination of _Iennet Deuice_, al their practises are now made knowen. Their purpose to kill M. _Couell_, and blow vp the Castle, is preuented. All their Murders, Witchcraftes, Inchauntments, Charmes, & Sorceries, are discouered; and euen in the middest of their consultations, they are all confounded, and arrested by Gods Iustice: brought before M. _Nowell_, and M. _Bannester_, vpon their voluntary confessions, Examinations, and other Euidence accused, and so by them committed to the Castle: So as now both old and young, haue taken vp their lodgings with M. _Couell_, vntill the next Assises, expecting their Tryall and deliuerance, according to the Lawes prouided for such like. In the meane time, M. _Nowell_ hauing knowledge by this discouery of their meeting at _Malkeing Tower_, and their resolution to execute mischiefe, takes great paines to apprehend such as were at libertie, and prepared Euidence against all such as were in question for Witches. Afterwardes sendes some of these Examinations, to the Assises at Yorke, to be giuen in Evidence against _Iennet Preston_, who for the murder of M. _Lister_, is condemned and executed. The Circuite of the North partes being now almost ended. The 16. of August. Vpon Sunday in the after noone, my honorable Lords the Iudges of Assise, came from _Kendall_ to _Lancaster_. Wherevpon M. _Couell_, presented vnto their Lordships a Calender, conteyning the Names of the Prisoners committed to his charge, which were to receiue their Tryall at the Assises: Out of which, we are onely to deale with the proceedings against Witches, which were as followeth. _Viz._ The Names of the Witches committed to the Castle of _Lancaster_. _Elizabeth Sowtherns._ } Who dyed before alias } shee _Old Demdike._ } came to her tryall. _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox._ _Elizabeth Deuice_, Daughter of old _Demdike._ _Iames Deuice_, Sonne of _Elizabeth Deuice._ _Anne Readfearne_, Daughter of _Anne Chattox._ _Alice Nutter._ _Katherine Hewytte._ _Iohn Bulcocke._ _Iane Bulcocke._ _Alizon Deuice_, Daughter of _Elizabeth Deuice._ _Isabell Robey._ _Magaret Pearson._ The Witches of Salmesbury. _Iennet Bierley._ } { _Elizabeth Astley._ _Elen Bierley._ } { _Alice Gray._ _Iane Southworth._ } { _Isabell Sidegraues._ _Iohn Ramesden._ } { _Lawrence Haye._ The next day, being Monday, the 17. of August, were the Assises holden in the Castle of _Lancaster_, as followeth. * * * * * Placita Coronæ. [Sidenote: _Lanc. fss._] _Deliberatio Gaolæ Domini Regis Castri fui Lancasstr. ac Prisonarior[=u] in eadem existent. Tenta apud Lancastr. in com. Lancastr. Die Lunæ, Decimo septimo die Augusti, Anno Regni Domini nostri Iacobi dei gratia Anglicæ, Franciæ, et Hiberniæ, Regis fidei defensoris; Decimo: et Scotiæ Quadragesimo sexto; Coram Iacobo Altham Milit. vno Baronum Scaccarij Domini Regis, et Edwardo Bromley Milit. altero Baronum eiusdem Scaccarij Domini Regis: ac Iustic. dicti Domini Regis apud Lancastr._ Vpon the Tewesday in the after noone, the Iudges according to the course and order, deuided them selues, where vpon my Lord _Bromley_, one of his Maiesties Iudges of Assise comming into the Hall to proceede with the Pleaes of the Crowne, & the Arraignement and Tryall of Prisoners, commaunded a generall Proclamation, that all Iustices of Peace that had taken any Recognisaunces, or Examinations of Prisoners, should make Returne of them: And all such as were bound to prosecute Indictmentes, and giue Euidence against Witches, should proceede, and giue attendance: For hee now intended to proceede to the Arraignement and Tryall of Witches. After which, the Court being set, M. Sherieffe was commaunded to present his Prisoners before his Lordship, and prepare a sufficient Iurie of Gentlemen for life and death. But heere we want old _Demdike_, who dyed in the Castle before she came to her tryall.[C4_b_] Heere you may not expect the exact order of the Assises, with the Proclamations, and other solemnities belonging to so great a Court of Iustice; but the proceedinges against the Witches, who are now vpon their deliuerance here in order as they came to the Barre, with the particular poyntes of Euidence against them: which is the labour and worke we now intend (by Gods grace) to performe as we may, to your generall contentment. Wherevpon, the first of all these, _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_,[D_b_] was brought to the Barre: against whom wee are now ready to proceed. [Illustration: decoration] The Arraignement and Tryall of Anne Whittle, _alias_ Chattox, of the Forrest of _Pendle_, in the Countie of _Lancaster_, Widdow; about the age of Fourescore yeares, or thereaboutes. _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox._ If in this damnable course of life, and offences, more horrible and odious, then any man is able to expresse: any man lyuing could lament the estate of any such like vpon earth: The example of this poore creature, would haue moued pittie, in respect of her great contrition and repentance, after she was committed to the Castle at _Lancaster_, vntill the comming of his Maiesties Iudges of Assise. But such was the nature of her offences, & the multitude of her crying sinnes, as it tooke away all sense of humanity. And the repetition of her hellish practises, and Reuenge; being the chiefest thinges wherein she alwayes tooke great delight, togeather with a particular declaration of the Murders shee had committed, layde open to the world, and giuen in Euidence against her at the time of her Arraignement and Tryall; as certainely it did beget contempt in the Audience, and such as she neuer offended. This _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, was a very old withered spent and decreped creature, her sight almost gone: A dangerous Witch, of very long continuance; alwayes opposite to old _Demdike_: For whom the one fauoured, the other hated deadly: [Sidenote: _Her owne examination_] and how they enuie and accuse one an other, in their Examinations, may appeare. In her Witchcraft, alwayes more ready to doe mischiefe to mens goods, then themselues. Her lippes euer chattering and walking:[D2_a_1] but no man knew what. She liued in the Forrest of _Pendle_, amongst this wicked company of dangerous Witches. Yet in her Examination and Confession, she dealt alwayes very plainely and truely: for vpon a speciall occasion being oftentimes examined in open Court, shee was neuer found to vary, but alwayes to agree in one, and the selfe same thing. I place her in order, next to that wicked fire-brand of mischiefe, old _Demdike_, because from these two, sprung all the rest in order:[D2_a_2] and were the Children and Friendes, of these two notorious Witches. Many thinges in the discouery of them, shall be very worthy your obseruation. As the times and occasions to execute their mischiefe. And this in generall: the Spirit could neuer hurt, till they gaue consent. And, but that it is my charge, to set foorth a particular Declaration of the Euidence against them, vpon their Arraignement and Tryall; with their Diuelish practises, consultations, meetings, and murders committed by them, in such sort, as they were giuen in Euidence against them; for the which, I shall haue matter vpon Record. I could make a large Comentarie of them: But it is my humble duety, to obserue the Charge and Commaundement of these my Honorable good Lordes the Iudges of Assise, and not to exceed the limits of my Commission. Wherefore I shall now bring this auncient Witch, to the due course of her Tryall, in order. _viz._ Indictment. This _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, of the Forrest of _Pendle_ in the Countie of _Lancaster_ Widdow, being Indicted, for that shee feloniously had practised, vsed, and exercised diuers wicked and diuelish Artes called Witchcraftes, Inchauntmentes, Charmes, and Sorceries, in and vpon one _Robert Nutter_ of _Greenehead_, in the Forrest of _Pendle_, in the Countie of _Lanc_: and by force of the same Witchcraft, feloniously the sayd _Robert Nutter_ had killed, _Contra Pacem, &c._ Being at the Barre, was arraigned. To this Indictment, vpon her Arraignement, shee pleaded, Not guiltie: and for the tryall of her life, put her selfe vpon God and her Country. Wherevpon my Lord _Bromley_ commaunded M. Sheriffe of the County of _Lancaster_ in open Court, to returne a Iurie of worthy sufficient Gentlemen of vnderstanding, to passe betweene our soueraigne Lord the Kinges Maiestie, and her, and others the Prisoners, vpon their liues and deathes; as hereafter follow in order: who were afterwardes sworne, according to the forme and order of the Court, the Prisoners being admitted to their lawfull challenges. Which being done, and the Prisoner at the Barre readie to receiue her Tryall: M. _Nowell_, being the best instructed of any man, of all the particular poyntes of Euidence against her, and her fellowes, hauing taken great paynes in the proceedinges against her and her fellowes; Humbly prayed, her owne voluntary Confession and Examination taken before him, when she was apprehended and committed to the Castle of _Lancaster_ for Witchcraft; might openly be published against her: which hereafter followeth. _Viz._ * * * * * The voluntary Confession and Examination of _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, taken at the _Fence_ in the Forrest of _Pendle_, in the Countie of _Lancaster_; Before _Roger Nowell Esq_, one of the Kinges Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster. Viz. The sayd _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, vpon her Examination, voluntarily confesseth, and sayth, That about foureteene or fifteene yeares agoe, a thing like a Christian man for foure yeares togeather, did sundry times come to this Examinate, and requested this Examinate to giue him her Soule: And in the end, this Examinate was contented to giue him her sayd Soule, shee being then in her owne house, in the Forrest of _Pendle_; wherevpon the Deuill then in the shape of a Man, sayd to this Examinate: Thou shalt want nothing; and be reuenged of whom thou list. And the Deuill then further commaunded this Examinate, to call him by the name of _Fancie_;[D3_a_] and when she wanted any thing, or would be reuenged of any, call on _Fancie_, and he would be ready. And the sayd Spirit or Deuill, did appeare vnto her not long after, in mans likenesse, and would haue had this Examinate to haue consented, that he might hurt the wife of _Richard Baldwin_ of _Pendle_;[D3_b_1] But this Examinate would not then consent vnto him: For which cause, the sayd Deuill would then haue bitten her by the arme; and so vanished away, for that time. And this Examinate further sayth, that _Robert Nutter_[D3_b_2] did desire her Daughter one _Redfearns_ wife, to haue his pleasure of her, being then in _Redfearns_ house: but the sayd _Redfearns_ wife denyed the sayd _Robert_; wherevpon the sayd _Robert_ seeming to be greatly displeased therewith, in a great anger tooke his Horse, and went away, saying in a great rage, that if euer the Ground came to him, shee should neuer dwell vpon his Land. Wherevpon this Examinate called _Fancie_ to her; who came to her in the likenesse of a Man in a parcell of Ground called, _The Laund_; asking this Examinate, what shee would haue him to doe? And this Examinate bade him goe reuenge her of the sayd _Robert Nutter_. After which time, the sayd _Robert Nutter_ liued about a quarter of a yeare, and then dyed. And this Examinate further sayth, that _Elizabeth Nutter_, wife to old _Robert Nutter_, did request this Examinate, and _Loomeshaws_ wife of _Burley_, and one _Iane Boothman_, of the same, who are now both dead, (which time of request, was before that _Robert Nutter_ desired the company of _Redfearns_ wife) to get young _Robert Nutter_ his death, if they could; all being togeather then at that time, to that end, that if _Robert_ were dead, then the Women their Coosens might haue the Land: By whose perswasion, they all consented vnto it. After which time, this Examinates Sonne in law _Thomas Redfearne_, did perswade this Examinate, not to kill or hurt the sayd _Robert Nutter_; for which perswasion, the sayd _Loomeshaws_ Wife, had like to haue killed the sayd _Redfearne_, but that one M. _Baldwyn_ (the late Schoole-maister at _Coulne_) did by his learning, stay the sayd _Loomeshaws_ wife, and therefore had a Capon from _Redfearne_.[D4_a_] And this Examinate further sayth, that she thinketh the sayd _Loomeshaws_ wife, and _Iane Boothman_, did what they could to kill the sayd _Robert Nutter_, as well as this Examinate did. * * * * * _The Examination of_ ELIZABETH SOTHERNES, alias OLD DEMBDIKE: _taken at the Fence in the Forrest of Pendle in the Countie of Lancaster, the day and yeare aforesaid._ Before, ROGER NOWEL _Esquire, one of the Kings Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the said Countie, against_ ANNE WHITTLE, alias CHATTOX. The said _Elizabeth Southernes_ saith vpon her Examination, that about halfe a yeare before _Robert Nutter_ died, as this Examinate thinketh, this Examinate went to the house of _Thomas Redfearne_, which was about Mid-sommer, as this Examinate remembreth it. And there within three yards of the East end of the said house, shee saw the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, and _Anne Redferne_ wife of the said _Thomas Redferne_, and Daughter of the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_: the one on the one side of the Ditch, and the other on the other: and two Pictures of Clay or Marle lying by them: and the third Picture the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, was making: and the said _Anne Redferne_ her said Daughter, wrought her Clay or Marle to make the third picture withall. And this Examinate passing by them, the said Spirit, called _Tibb_, in the shape of a black Cat, appeared vnto her this Examinate, and said, turne back againe, and doe as they doe: To whom this Examinate said, what are they doing? whereunto the said Spirit said; they are making three Pictures: whereupon she asked whose pictures they were? whereunto the said Spirit said; they are the pictures of _Christopher Nutter_, _Robert Nutter_, and _Marie_, wife of the said _Robert Nutter_: But this Examinate denying to goe back to helpe them to make the Pictures aforesaid; the said Spirit seeming to be angrie, therefore shoue or pushed this Examinate into the ditch, and so shed the Milke which this Examinate had in a Can or Kit: and so thereupon the Spirit at that time vanished out of this Examinates sight: But presently after that, the said Spirit appeared to this Examinate againe in the shape of a Hare, and so went with her about a quarter of a mile, but said nothing to this Examinate, nor shee to it. * * * * * _The Examination and euidence of_ IAMES ROBINSON,[E_b_1] _taken the day and yeare aforesaid._ Before ROGER NOWEL _Esquire aforesaid, against_ ANNE WHITTLE, alias CHATTOX, _Prisoner at the Barre as followeth._ viz. The said Examinate saith, that about sixe yeares agoe, _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, was hired by this Examinates wife to card wooll;[E_b_2] and so vpon a Friday and Saturday, shee came and carded wooll with this Examinates wife, and so the Munday then next after shee came likewise to card: and this Examinates wife hauing newly tunned drinke into Stands, which stood by the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_: and the said _Ann Whittle_ taking a Dish or Cup, and drawing drinke seuerall times: and so neuer after that time, for some eight or nine weekes, they could haue any drinke, but spoiled, and as this Examinate thinketh was by the meanes of the said _Chattox_. And further he saith, that the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, and _Anne Redferne_ her said Daughter, are commonly reputed and reported to bee Witches. And hee also saith, that about some eighteene yeares agoe, he dwelled with one _Robert Nutter_ the elder, of Pendle aforesaid. And that yong _Robert Nutter_, who dwelled with his Grand-father, in the Sommer time, he fell sicke, and in his said sicknesse hee did seuerall times complaine, that hee had harme by them: and this Examinate asking him what hee meant by that word _Them_, He said, that he verily thought that the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, and the said _Redfernes_ wife, had bewitched him: and the said _Robert Nutter_ shortly after, being to goe with his then Master, called Sir _Richard Shattleworth_,[E2_a_] into Wales, this Examinate heard him say before his then going, vnto the said _Thomas Redferne_, that if euer he came againe he would get his Father to put the said _Redferne_ out of his house, or he himselfe would pull it downe; to whom the said _Redferne_ replyed, saying; when you come back againe you will be in a better minde: but he neuer came back againe, but died before Candlemas in Cheshire, as he was comming homeward. Since the voluntarie confession and examination of a Witch, doth exceede all other euidence, I spare to trouble you with a multitude of Examinations, or Depositions of any other witnesses, by reason this bloudie fact, for the Murder of _Robert Nutter_, vpon so small an occasion, as to threaten to take away his owne land from such as were not worthie to inhabite or dwell vpon it, is now made by that which you haue alreadie heard, so apparant, as no indifferent man will question it, or rest vnsatisfied: I shall now proceede to set forth vnto you the rest of her actions, remaining vpon Record. And how dangerous it was for any man to liue neere these people, to giue them any occasion of offence, I leaue it to your good consideration. * * * * * _The Examination and voluntarie Confession of_ ANNE WHITTLE, alias CHATTOX, _taken at the Fence in the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, the second day of Aprill_, Anno Regni Regis IACOBI ANGLI�, Franciæ, & Hiberniæ, decimo & Scotiæ xlv. Before ROGER NOWEL, _Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the Countie of Lancaster._ She the said Examinate saith, That shee was sent for by the wife of _Iohn Moore_, to helpe drinke that was forspoken or bewitched: at which time shee vsed this Prayer for the amending of it, _viz._ _A Charme._[E2_b_] _Three Biters hast thou bitten, The Hart, ill Eye, ill Tonge: Three bitter shall be thy Boote, Father, Sonne, and Holy Ghost a Gods name, Fiue Pater-nosters, fiue Auies, and a Creede, In worship of fiue wounds of our Lord._ After which time that this Examinate had vsed these prayers, and amended her drinke, the said _Moores_ wife did chide this Examinate, and was grieued at her. And thereupon this Examinate called for her Deuill _Fancie_, and bad him goe bite a browne Cow of the said _Moores_ by the head, and make the Cow goe madde: and the Deuill then, in the likenesse of a browne Dogge, went to the said Cow, and bit her: which Cow went madde accordingly, and died within six weekes next after, or thereabouts. Also this Examinate saith, That she perceiuing _Anthonie Nutter_ of Pendle to fauour _Elizabeth Sothernes_, alias _Dembdike_,[E3_a_1] she, this Examinate, called _Fancie_ to her, (who appeared like a man) and bad him goe kill a Cow of the said _Anthonies_; which the said Deuill did, and that Cow died also. And further this Examinate saith, That the Deuill, or _Fancie_, hath taken most of her sight away from her. And further this Examinate saith, That in Summer last, saue one, the said Deuill, or _Fancie_, came vpon this Examinate in the night time: and at diuerse and sundry times in the likenesse of a Beare, gaping as though he would haue wearied this Examinate.[E3_a_2] And the last time of all shee, this Examinate, saw him, was vpon Thursday last yeare but one, next before Midsummer day, in the euening, like a Beare, and this Examinate would not then speake vnto him, for the which the said Deuill pulled this Examinate downe. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE,[E3_b_] _sonne of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill_, Annoq; Reg. Regis IACOBI Angliæ, &c. Decimo ac Scotiæ xlv. Before ROGER NOWEL and NICHOLAS BANISTER, _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace within the said Countie._ viz. And further saith, That twelue yeares agoe, the said _Anne Chattox_ at a Buriall at the new Church in Pendle, did take three scalpes of people, which had been buried, and then cast out of a graue, as she the said _Chattox_ told this Examinate; and tooke eight teeth out of the said Scalpes, whereof she kept foure to her selfe, and gaue other foure to the said _Demdike_, this Examinates Grand-mother: which foure teeth now shewed to this Examinate, are the foure teeth that the said _Chattox_ gaue to his said Grand-mother, as aforesaid; which said teeth haue euer since beene kept, vntill now found by the said _Henry Hargreiues_ & this Examinate, at the West-end of this Examinates Grand-mothers house, and there buried in the earth, and a Picture of Clay there likewise found by them, about halfe a yard ouer in the earth, where the said teeth lay, which said picture so found was almost withered away, and was the Picture of _Anne_, _Anthony Nutters_ daughter; as this Examinates Grand-mother told him. * * * * * _The Examination of_ ALLIZON DEVICE _daughter of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE: _Taken at Reade, in the Countie of Lancaster, the thirtieth day of March_, Annoq; Reg. Regis IACOBI nunc Angliæ, &c. Decimo, & Scotiæ Quadragesimo quinto. Before ROGER NOWEL _of Reade aforesaid, Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace, within the said Countie._ This Examinate saith, that about eleuen yeares agoe, this Examinate and her mother had their firehouse broken,[E4_a_] and all, or the most part of their linnen clothes, & halfe a peck of cut oat-meale, and a quantitie of meale gone, all which was worth twentie shillings, or aboue: and vpon a Sunday then next after, this Examinate did take a band and a coife, parcell of the goods aforesaid, vpon the daughter of _Anne Whittle, alias Chattox_, and claimed them to be parcell of the goods stolne, as aforesaid. And this Examinate further saith, That her father, called _Iohn Deuice_, being afraid, that the said _Anne Chattox_ should doe him or his goods any hurt by Witchcraft; did couenant with the said _Anne_, that if she would hurt neither of them, she should yearely haue one Aghen-dole of meale;[E4_b_1] which meale was yearely paid, vntill the yeare which her father died in, which was about eleuen yeares since: Her father vpon his then-death-bed, taking it that the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, did bewitch him to death, because the said meale was not paid the last yeare. And she also saith, That about two yeares agone, this Examinate being in the house of _Anthony Nutter_ of Pendle aforesaid, and being then in company with _Anne Nutter_, daughter of the said _Anthony_: the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, came into the said _Anthony Nutters_ house, and seeing this Examinate, and the said _Anne Nutter_ laughing, and saying, that they laughed at her the said _Chattox_: well said then (sayes _Anne Chattox_) I will be meet with the one of you. And vpon the next day after, she the said _Anne Nutter_ fell sicke, and within three weekes after died. And further, this Examinate saith, That about two yeares agoe, she, this Examinate, hath heard, That the said _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, was suspected for bewitching the drinke of _Iohn Moore_ of Higham Gentleman:[E4_b_2] and not long after, shee this Examinate heard the said _Chattox_ say, that she would meet with the said _Iohn Moore_, or his.[E4_b_3] Whereupon a child of the said _Iohn Moores_, called _Iohn_, fell sick, and languished about halfe a yeare, and then died: during which languishing, this Examinate saw the said _Chattox_ sitting in her owne garden, and a picture of Clay like vnto a child in her Apron; which this Examinate espying, the said _Anne Chattox_ would haue hidde with her Apron: and this Examinate declaring the same to her mother, her mother thought it was the picture of the said _Iohn Moores_ childe. And she this Examinate further saith, That about sixe or seuen yeares agoe, the said _Chattox_ did fall out with one _Hugh Moore_ of Pendle, as aforesaid, about certaine cattell of the said _Moores_, which the said _Moore_ did charge the said _Chattox_ to haue bewitched: for which the said _Chattox_ did curse and worry the said _Moore_, and said she would be Reuenged of the said _Moore_: whereupon the said _Moore_ presently fell sicke, and languished about halfe a yeare, and then died. Which _Moore_ vpon his death-bed said, that the said _Chattox_ had bewitched him to death. And she further saith, That about sixe yeares agoe, a daughter of the said _Anne Chattox_, called _Elizabeth_, hauing been at the house of _Iohn Nutter_ of the Bull-hole, to begge or get a dish full of milke, which she had, and brought to her mother, who was about a fields breadth of the said _Nutters_ house, which her said mother _Anne Chattox_ tooke and put into a Kan, and did charne[F_a_1] the same with two stickes acrosse in the same field: whereupon the said _Iohn Nutters_ sonne came vnto her, the said _Chattox_, and misliking her doings, put the said Kan and milke ouer with his foot; and the morning next after, a Cow of the said _Iohn Nutters_ fell sicke, and so languished three or foure dayes, and then died. In the end being openly charged with all this in open Court; with weeping teares she humbly acknowledged them to be true,[F_a_2] and cried out vnto God for Mercy and forgiuenesse of her sinnes, and humbly prayed my Lord to be mercifull vnto _Anne Redfearne_ her daughter, of whose life and condition you shall heare more vpon her Arraignement and Triall: whereupon shee being taken away, _Elizabeth Deuice_ comes now to receiue her Triall being the next in order, of whom you shall heare at large. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE (_Daughter of_ ELIZABETH SOTHERNES, alias OLD DEMBDIKE) _late wife of_ IO. DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, widow, for Witchcraft; Vpon Tuesday the eighteenth of August, at the Assises and generall Gaole-Deliuerie holden at Lancaster_ Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assise at Lancaster._ _Elizabeth Deuice._ O Barbarous and inhumane Monster, beyond example; so farre from sensible vnderstanding of thy owne miserie, as to bring thy owne naturall children into mischiefe and bondage; and thy selfe to be a witnesse vpon the Gallowes, to see thy owne children, by thy deuillish instructions hatcht vp in Villanie and Witchcraft, to suffer with thee, euen in the beginning of their time, a shamefull and vntimely Death. Too much (so it be true) cannot be said or written of her. Such was her life and condition: that euen at the Barre, when shee came to receiue her Triall (where the least sparke of Grace or modestie would haue procured fauour, or moued pitie) she was not able to containe her selfe within the limits of any order or gouernment: but exclaiming, in very outragious manner crying out against her owne children, and such as came to prosecute Indictments & Euidence for the Kings Maiestie against her, for the death of their Children, Friends, and Kinsfolkes, whome cruelly and bloudily, by her Enchauntments, Charmes, and Sorceries she had murthered and cut off; sparing no man with fearefull execrable curses and banning:[F2_b_] Such in generall was the common opinion of the Countrey where she dwelt, in the Forrest of Pendle (a place fit for people of such condition) that no man neere her, neither his wife, children, goods, or cattell should be secure or free from danger. This _Elizabeth Deuice_ was the daughter of _Elizabeth Sothernes_, old _Dembdike_, a malicious, wicked, and dangerous Witch for fiftie yeares, as appeareth by Record: and how much longer, the Deuill and shee knew best with whome shee made her couenant. It is very certaine, that amongst all these Witches there was not a more dangerous and deuillish Witch to execute mischiefe, hauing old _Dembdike_, her mother, to assist her; _Iames Deuice_ and _Alizon Deuice_, her owne naturall children, all prouided with Spirits, vpon any occasion of offence readie to assist her. Vpon her Examination, although Master _Nowel_ was very circumspect, and exceeding carefull in dealing with her, yet she would confesse nothing, vntill it pleased God to raise vp a yong maid, _Iennet Deuice_, her owne daughter, about the age of nine yeares (a witnesse vnexpected) to discouer all their Practises, Meetings, Consultations, Murthers, Charmes, and Villanies: such, and in such sort, as I may iustly say of them, as a reuerend and learned Iudge of this Kingdome speaketh of the greatest Treason that euer was in this Kingdome, _Quis hæc posteris sic narrare poterit, vt facta non ficta esse videantur?_ That when these things shall be related to Posteritie, they will be reputed matters fained, not done. And then knowing, that both _Iennet Deuice_, her daughter, _Iames Deuice_, her sonne, and _Alizon Deuice_, with others, had accused her and layed open all things, in their Examinations taken before Master _Nowel_, and although she were their owne naturall mother, yet they did not spare to accuse her of euery particular fact, which in her time she had committed, to their knowledge; she made a very liberall and voluntarie Confession, as hereafter shall be giuen in euidence against her, vpon her Arraignment and Triall. This _Elizabeth Deuice_ being at libertie, after Old _Dembdike_ her mother, _Alizon Deuice_, her daughter, and old _Chattocks_ were committed to the Castle of Lancaster for Witchcraft; laboured not a little to procure a solemne meeting at Malkyn-Tower of the Graund Witches of the Counties of Lancaster and Yorke, being yet vnsuspected and vntaken, to consult of some speedie course for the deliuerance of their friends, the Witches at Lancaster, and for the putting in execution of some other deuillish practises of Murther and Mischiefe: as vpon the Arraignement and Triall of _Iames Deuice_, her sonne, shall hereafter in euery particular point appeare at large against her. The first Indictment. This _Elizabeth Deuice_, late the wife of _Iohn Deuice_, of the Forrest of Pendle in the Countie of Lancaster Widdow, being indicted, for that shee felloniously had practized, vsed, and exercised diuers wicked and deuillish Arts, called _Witch-crafts_, _Inchantments_, _Charmes_, and _Sorceries_, in, and vpon one _Iohn Robinson_, alias _Swyer_: and by force of the same felloniously, the said _Iohn Robinson_, alias _Swyer_, had killed. _Contra pacem, &c._ being at the Barre was arraigned. 2. Indictment. The said _Elizabeth Deuice_ was the second time indicted in the same manner and forme, for the death of _Iames Robinson_, by Witch-craft. _Contra pacem, &c._ 3. Indictment. The said _Elizabeth Deuice_, was the third time with others, _viz._ _Alice Nutter_, and _Elizabeth Sothernes_, alias _Old-Dembdike_, her Grand-mother, Indicted in the same manner and forme, for the death of _Henrie Mytton_. _Contra pacem, &c._ To these three seuerall Indictments vpon her Arraignement, shee pleaded not guiltie; and for the tryall of her life, put her selfe vpon God and her Countrie. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iurie of life and death, stand charged to finde, whether shee bee guiltie of them, or any of them. Whereupon there was openly read, and giuen in euidence against her, for the Kings Majestie, her owne voluntarie Confession and Examination, when shee was apprehended, taken, and committed to the Castle of Lancaster by M. _Nowel_, and M. _Bannester_, two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the same Countie. _viz._ * * * * * _The Examination and voluntarie Confession of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _taken at the house of_ IAMES WILSEY _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill: Anno Reg._ IACOBI, _Angl. &c. decimo, & Scotiæ_ xlv. Before ROGER NOWEL, _and_ NICHOLAS BANNESTER, _Esquires; two of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace within the same Countie._ viz. The said _Elizabeth Deuice_, Mother of the said _Iames_, being examined, confesseth and saith. That at the third time her Spirit,[F4_a_] the Spirit _Ball_, appeared to her in the shape of a browne Dogge, at, or in her Mothers house in Pendle Forrest aforesaid: about foure yeares agoe the said Spirit bidde this Examinate make a picture of Clay after the said _Iohn Robinson_, alias _Swyer_, which this Examinate did make accordingly at the West end of her said Mothers house, and dryed the same picture with the fire and crumbled all the same picture away within a weeke or thereabouts, and about a weeke after the Picture was crumbled or mulled away; the said _Robinson_ dyed. The reason wherefore shee this Examinate did so bewitch the said _Robinson_ to death, was: for that the said _Robinson_ had chidden and becalled this Examinate, for hauing a Bastard-child with one _Seller_. And this Examinate further saith and confesseth, that shee did bewitch the said _Iames Robinson_ to death, as in the said _Iennet Deuice_ her examination is confessed. And further shee saith, and confesseth, that shee with the wife of _Richard Nutter_, and this Examinates said Mother, ioyned altogether, and did bewitch the said _Henrie Mytton_ to death. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE, _Daughter of the said_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _late Wife of_ IOHN DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster._ Against ELIZABETH DEVICE _her Mother, Prisoner at the Barre vpon her Arraignement and Triall._ viz. The said _Iennet Deuice_, being a yong Maide, about the age of nine yeares,[F4_b_] and commanded to stand vp to giue euidence against her Mother, Prisoner at the Barre: Her Mother, according to her accustomed manner, outragiously cursing, cryed out against the child in such fearefull manner, as all the Court did not a little wonder at her, and so amazed the child, as with weeping teares shee cryed out vnto my Lord the Iudge, and told him, shee was not able to speake in the presence of her Mother. This odious Witch was branded with a preposterous marke in Nature, euen from her birth, which was her left eye, standing lower then the other; the one looking downe, the other looking vp, so strangely deformed, as the best that were present in that Honorable assembly, and great Audience, did affirme, they had not often seene the like. No intreatie, promise of fauour, or other respect, could put her to silence, thinking by this her outragious cursing and threatning of the child, to inforce her to denie that which she had formerly confessed against her Mother, before M. _Nowel_: Forswearing and denying her owne voluntarie confession, which you haue heard, giuen in euidence against her at large, and so for want of further euidence to escape that, which the Iustice of the Law had prouided as a condigne punishment for the innocent bloud shee had spilt, and her wicked and deuillish course of life. In the end, when no meanes would serue, his Lordship commanded the Prisoner to be taken away, and the Maide to bee set vpon the Table in the presence of the whole Court, who deliuered her euidence in that Honorable assembly, to the Gentlemen of the Iurie of life and death, as followeth. _viz._ _Iennet Deuice_, Daughter of _Elizabeth Deuice_, late Wife of _Iohn Deuice_, of the Forrest of Pendle aforesaid Widdow, confesseth and saith, that her said Mother is a Witch, and that this shee knoweth to be true; for, that shee had seene her Spirit sundrie times come vnto her said Mother in her owne house, called _Malking-Tower_, in the likenesse of a browne Dogge, which shee called _Ball_; and at one time amongst others, the said _Ball_ did aske this Examinates Mother what she would haue him to doe: and this Examinates Mother answered, that she would haue the said _Ball_ to helpe her to kill _Iohn Robinson_ of _Barley_, alias _Swyer_: by helpe of which said _Ball_, the said _Swyer_ was killed by witch-craft accordingly; and that this Examinates Mother hath continued a Witch for these three or foure yeares last past. And further, this Examinate confesseth, that about a yeare after, this Examinates Mother called for the said _Ball_, who appeared as aforesaid, asking this Examinates Mother what shee would haue done, who said, that shee would haue him to kill _Iames Robinson_, alias _Swyer_, of Barlow aforesaid, Brother to the said _Iohn_: whereunto _Ball_ answered, hee would doe it; and about three weekes after, the said _Iames_ dyed. And this Examinate also saith, that one other time shee was present, when her said Mother did call for the _Ball_, [Sidenote: Her Spirit.] who appeared in manner as aforesaid, and asked this Examinates Mother what shee would haue him to doe, whereunto this Examinates Mother then said shee would haue him to kill one _Mitton_ of the Rough-Lee, whereupon the said _Ball_ said, he would doe it, and so vanished away, and about three weekes after, the said _Mitton_ likewise dyed. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE, _sonne of the said_ ELIZABETH DEVICE: _Taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill_, Annoq; Reg. Regis IACOBI Angliæ, &c. Decimo ac Scociæ, xlv. Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace, within the said Countie._ viz. The said _Iames Deuice_ being examined, saith, That he heard his Grand-mother say, about a yeare agoe, That his mother called _Elizabeth Deuice_, and others, had killed one _Henry Mitton_ of the Rough-Lee aforesaid, by Witchcraft. The reason wherefore he was so killed, was for that this Examinates said Grand-mother _Old Demdike_, had asked the said _Mitton_ a penny; and he denying her thereof, thereupon she procured his death, as aforesaid. And he, this Examinate also saith, That about three yeares agoe, this Examinate being in his Grand-mothers house, with his said mother; there came a thing in shape of a browne dogge, which his mother called _Ball_, who spake to this Examinates mother, in the sight and hearing of this Examinate, and bad her make a Picture of Clay like vnto _Iohn Robinson_, alias _Swyer_, and drie it hard, and then crumble it by little and little; and as the said Picture should crumble or mull away, so should the said _Io. Robinson_ alias _Swyer_ his body decay and weare away. And within two or three dayes after, the Picture shall so all be wasted, and mulled away; so then the said _Iohn Robinson_ should die presently. Vpon the agreement betwixt the said dogge and this Examinates mother; the said dogge suddenly vanished out of this Examinates sight. And the next day, this Examinate saw his said mother take Clay at the West end of her said house, and make a Picture of it after the said _Robinson_, and brought into her house, and dried it some two dayes: and about two dayes after the drying thereof, this Examinates said mother fell on crumbling the said Picture of Clay, euery day some, for some three weekes together; and within two dayes after all was crumbled or mulled away, the said _Iohn Robinson_ died. Being demanded by the Court, what answere shee could giue to the particular points of the Euidence against her, for the death of these seuerall persons; Impudently shee denied them, crying out against her children, and the rest of the Witnesses against her. But because I haue charged her to be the principall Agent, to procure a solemne meeting at _Malking-Tower_ of the Grand-witches, to consult of some speedy course for the deliuerance of her mother, _Old Demdike_, her daughter, and other Witches at Lancaster: the speedie Execution of Master _Couell_, who little suspected or deserued any such practise or villany against him: The blowing up of the Castle, with diuers other wicked and diuellish practises and murthers; I shall make it apparant vnto you, by the particular Examinations and Euidence of her owne children, such as were present at the time of their Consultation, together with her owne Examination and Confession, amongst the Records of the Crowne at Lancaster, as hereafter followeth. * * * * * _The voluntary Confession and Examination of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _taken at the house of_ IAMES WILSEY, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill_, Annoq: Reg. Regis IACOBI Angliæ, &c. Decimo, & Scotiæ Quadragesimo quinto. Before ROGER NOWEL and NICHOLAS BANISTER, _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace within the same Countie._ viz. The said _Elizabeth Deuice_ being further Examined, confesseth that vpon Good-Friday last, there dined at this Examinates house, called _Malking-Tower_, those which she hath said are Witches, and doth verily think them to be Witches: and their names are those whom _Iames Deuice_ hath formerly spoken of to be there. And she further saith, that there was also at her said mothers house, at the day and time aforesaid, two women of Burneley Parish, whose names the wife of _Richard Nutter_ doth know. And there was likewise there one _Anne Crouckshey_[G3_a_] of Marsden: And shee also confesseth, in all things touching the Christening of the Spirit, and the killing of Master _Lister_ of Westbie, as the said _Iames Deuice_ hath before confessed; but denieth of any talke was amongst them the said Witches, to her now remembrance, at the said meeting together, touching the killing of the Gaoler, or the blowing vp of Lancaster Castle. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE, _Daughter of the said_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _late Wife of_ IOHN DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster._ Against ELIZABETH DEVICE, _her Mother, Prisoner at the Barre, vpon her Arraignement and Triall_, viz. The said _Iennet Deuice_ saith, That vpon Good Friday last there was about twentie persons[G3_b_1] (whereof onely two were men, to this Examinates remembrance) at her said Grandmothers house, called Malking-Tower aforesaid, about twelue of the clocke: all which persons this Examinates said mother told her, were Witches, and that they came to giue a name to _Alizon Deuice_ Spirit, or Familiar, sister to this Examinate, and now prisoner at Lancaster. And also this Examinate saith, That the persons aforesaid had to their dinners Beefe, Bacon, and roasted Mutton; which Mutton (as this Examinates said brother said) was of a Wether of _Christopher Swyers_ of Barley: which Wether was brought in the night before into this Examinates mothers house by the said _Iames Deuice_, this Examinates said brother: and in this Examinates sight killed and eaten, as aforesaid. And shee further saith, That shee knoweth the names of sixe of the said Witches, _viz._ the wife of _Hugh Hargraues_ vnder Pendle, _Christopher Howgate_ of Pendle, vnckle to this Examinate, and _Elizabeth_ his wife, and _Dicke Miles_ his wife of the Rough-Lee; _Christopher Iackes_ of Thorny-holme, and his wife:[G3_b_2] and the names of the residue shee this Examinate doth not know, sauing that this Examinates mother and brother were both there. And lastly, she this Examinate confesseth and saith, That her mother hath taught her two prayers: the one to cure the bewitched, and the other to get drinke; both which particularly appeare. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IAMES DEVICE, _sonne of the said_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _late wife of_ IOHN DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster._ Against ELIZABETH DEVICE, _his Mother, prisoner at the Barre, vpon her Arraignement and Triall_, viz. The said _Iames Deuice_ saith, That on Good-Friday last, about twelue of the clocke in the day time, there dined in this Examinates said mothers house, at Malking-Tower, a number of persons, whereof three were men, with this Examinate, and the rest women; and that they met there for three causes following (as this Examinates said mother told this Examinate) The first was, for the naming of the Spirit, which _Alizon Deuice_, now prisoner at Lancaster, had: But did not name him, because shee was not there.[G4_a_] The second was, for the deliuerie of his said Grandmother, olde _Dembdike_; this Examinates said sister _Allizon_; the said _Anne Chattox_, and her daughter _Redferne_; killing the Gaoler at Lancaster; and before the next Assises to blow vp the Castle there: and to that end the aforesaid prisoners might by that time make an escape, and get away. All which this Examinate then heard them conferre of. And he also sayth, That the names of the said Witches as were on Good-Friday at this Examinates said Grandmothers house, and now this Examinates owne mothers, for so many of them as hee did know, were these, _viz._ The wife of _Hugh Hargreiues_ of Burley; the wife of _Christopher Bulcock_, of the Mosse end, and _Iohn_ her sonne; the mother of _Myles Nutter_; _Elizabeth_, the wife of _Christopher Hargreiues_, of Thurniholme; _Christopher Howgate_, and _Elizabeth_, his wife; _Alice Graye_ of Coulne, and one _Mould-heeles_ wife, of the same: and this Examinate, and his Mother. And this Examinate further sayth, That all the Witches went out of the said House in their owne shapes and likenesses. And they all, by that they were forth of the dores, gotten on Horsebacke, like vnto Foales, some of one colour, some of another; and _Prestons_ wife was the last: and when shee got on Horsebacke, they all presently vanished out of this Examinates sight. And before their said parting away, they all appointed to meete at the said _Prestons_ wiues [Sidenote: _Executed at Yorke the last Assises._] house that day twelue-moneths; at which time the said _Prestons_ wife promised to make them a great Feast. And if they had occasion to meete in the meane time, then should warning be giuen, that they all should meete vpon _Romleyes_ Moore.[G4_b_] And there they parted, with resolution to execute their deuillish and bloudie practises, for the deliuerance of their friends, vntill they came to meete here, where their power and strength was gone. And now finding her Meanes was gone, shee cried out for Mercie. Whereupon shee being taken away, the next in order was her sonne _Iames Deuice_, whom shee and her Mother, old _Dembdike_, brought to act his part in this wofull Tragedie. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ IAMES DEVICE, _Sonne of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, within the Countie of Lancaster aforesaid, Laborer, for Witchcraft; Vpon Tuesday the eighteenth of August, at the Assises and generall Gaole-Deliuerie holden at Lancaster_ Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assise at Lancaster._ _James Deuice._ This wicked and miserable Wretch, whether by practise, or meanes, to bring himselfe to some vntimely death, and thereby to auoide his Tryall by his Countrey, and iust iudgement of the Law; or ashamed to bee openly charged with so many deuillish practises, and so much innocent bloud as hee had spilt; or by reason of his Imprisonment so long time before his Tryall (which was with more fauour, commiseration, and reliefe then hee deserued) I know not: But being brought forth to the Barre, to receiue his Triall before this worthie Iudge, and so Honourable and Worshipfull an Assembly of Iustices for this seruice, was so insensible, weake, and vnable in all thinges, as he could neither speake, heare, or stand, but was holden vp[H2_a_1] when hee was brought to the place of his Arraignement, to receiue his triall. This _Iames Deuice_ of the Forrest of Pendle, being brought to the Barre, was there according to the forme, order, and course, Indicted and Arraigned; for that hee Felloniously had practised, vsed, and exercised diuers wicked and deuillish Arts, called _Witch-crafts_, _Inchauntments_, _Charmes_, and _Sorceries_, in, and vpon one _Anne Towneley_, wife of _Henrie Towneley_ of the Carre,[H2_a_2] in the Countie of Lancaster Gentleman, and her by force of the same, felloniously had killed. _Contra pacem, &c._ The said _Iames Deuice_ was the second time Indicted and Arraigned in the same manner and forme, for the death of _Iohn Duckworth_, by witch-craft. _Contra pacem, &c._ To these two seuerall Indictments vpon his Arraignment, he pleaded not guiltie, and for the triall of his life put himselfe vpon God and his Countrie. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iurie of life and death stand charged to finde, whether he be guiltie of these, or either of them. Whereupon Master _Nowel_ humbly prayed Master _Towneley_ might be called,[H2_a_3] who attended to prosecute and giue euidence against him for the King's Majestie, and that the particular Examinations taken before him and others, might be openly published & read in Court,[H2_a_4] in the hearing of the Prisoner. But because it were infinite to bring him to his particular Triall for euery offence, which hee hath committed in his time, and euery practice wherein he hath had his hand: I shall proceede in order with the Euidence remayning vpon Record against him, amongst the Records of the Crowne; both how, and in what sort hee came to be a witch: and shew you what apparant proofe there is to charge him with the death of these two seuerall persons, for the which hee now standeth vpon his triall for al the rest of his deuillish practises, incantantions, murders, charmes, sorceries, meetings to consult with Witches, to execute mischiefe (take them as they are against him vpon Record:) Enough, I doubt not. For these with the course of his life will serue his turne to deliuer you from the danger of him that neuer tooke felicitie in any things, but in reuenge, bloud, & mischiefe with crying out vnto God for vengeance; which hath now at the length brought him to the place where hee standes to receiue his Triall with more honor, fauour, and respect, then such a Monster in Nature doth deserue; And I doubt not, but in due time by the Iustice of the Law, to an vntimely and shamefull death. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE, _sonne of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, Labourer. Taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill, Annoq; Reg. Regis_ IACOBI, _Angliæ, &c._ x^o. _& Scotiæ Quadragesimo quinto._ Before ROGER NOWEL, _and_ NICHOLAS BANNESTER, _Esquires: two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the said Countie._ He saith, that vpon Sheare Thursday[H3_a_] was two yeares, his Grand-Mother _Elizabeth Sothernes_, alias _Dembdike_, did bid him this Examinate goe to the Church to receiue the Communion (the next day after being Good Friday) and then not to eate the Bread the Minister gaue him, but to bring it and deliuer it to such a thing as should meet him in his way homewards: Notwithstanding her perswasions, this Examinate did eate the Bread: and so in his comming homeward some fortie roodes off the said Church, there met him a thing in the shape of a Hare, who spoke vnto this Examinate, and asked him whether hee had brought the Bread that his Grand-mother had bidden him, or no? whereupon this Examinate answered, hee had not: and thereupon the said thing threatned to pull this Examinate in peeces, and so this Examinate thereupon marked himselfe to God, and so the said thing vanished out of this Examinates sight. And within some foure daies after that, there appeared in this Examinates sight, hard by the new Church in Pendle, a thing like vnto a browne _Dogge_, who asked this Examinate to giue him his Soule, and he should be reuenged of any whom hee would: whereunto this Examinate answered, that his Soule was not his to giue, but was his _Sauiour Iesus Christs_, but as much as was in him this Examinate to giue, he was contented he should haue it. And within two or three daies after, this Examinate went to the Carre-Hall, and vpon some speeches betwixt Mistris _Towneley_ and this Examinate; Shee charging this Examinate and his said mother, to haue stolne some Turues of hers, badde him packe the doores: and withall as he went forth of the doore, the said Mistris _Towneley_ gaue him a knock betweene the shoulders: and about a day or two after that, there appeared vnto this Examinate in his way, a thing like vnto a black dog, who put this Examinate in minde of the said Mistris _Towneleyes_ falling out with him this Examinate; who bad this Examinate make a Picture of Clay, like vnto the said Mistris _Towneley_: and that this Examinate with the helpe of his Spirit (who then euer after bidde this Examinate to call it _Dandy_) would kill or destroy the said Mistris _Towneley_: and so the said dogge vanished out of this Examinates sight. And the next morning after, this Examinate tooke Clay, and made a Picture of the said Mistris _Towneley_, and dried it the same night by the fire: and within a day after, hee, this Examinate began to crumble the said Picture, euery day some, for the space of a weeke: and within two daies after all was crumbled away; the said Mistris _Towneley_ died. And hee further saith, That in Lent last one _Iohn Duckworth_ of the Lawnde, promised this Examinate an old shirt: and within a fortnight after, this Examinate went to the said _Duckworthes_ house, and demanded the said old shirt: but the said _Duckworth_ denied him thereof. And going out of the said house, the said Spirit _Dandy_ appeared vnto this Examinate, and said, Thou didst touch the said _Duckworth_; whereunto this Examinate answered, he did not touch him: yes (said the Spirit againe) thou didst touch him, and therfore I haue power of him: whereupon this Examinate ioyned with the said Spirit, and then wished the said Spirit to kill the said _Duckworth_: and within one weeke, then next after, _Duckworth_ died. This voluntary Confession and Examination of his owne, containing in it selfe matter sufficient in Law to charge him, and to proue his offences, contained in the two seuerall Indictments, was sufficient to satisfie the Gentlemen of the Iurie of Life and Death, that he is guiltie of them, and either of them: yet my Lord _Bromley_ commanded, for their better satisfaction, that the Witnesses present in Court against any of the Prisoners, should be examined openly, _viua voce_, that the Prisoner might both heare and answere to euery particular point of their Euidence; notwithstanding any of their Examinations taken before any of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the said Countie. Herein do but obserue the wonderfull work of God; to raise vp a young Infant, the very sister of the Prisoner, _Iennet Deuice_, to discouer, iustifie and proue these things against him, at the time of his Arraignement and Triall, as hereafter followeth. _viz._ * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE _daughter of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _late wife of_ IOHN DEVICE _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster._ Against IAMES DEVICE, _Prisoner at the Barre, vpon his Arraignement and Triall._ viz. Being examined in open Court, she saith, That her brother _Iames Device_, the Prisoner at the Barre, hath beene a Witch for the space of three yeares: about the beginning of which time, there appeared vnto him, in this Examinates mothers house, a Black-Dogge, which [Sidenote: _Dandy._] her said brother called _Dandy_. And further, this Examinate confesseth, & saith: That her said brother about a twelue month since, in the presence of this Examinate, and in the house aforesaid, called for the said _Dandy_, who thereupon appeared: asking this Examinates brother what he would haue him to doe. This Examinates brother then said, he would haue him to helpe him to kill old Mistris _Towneley_ of the Carre: whereunto the said _Dandy_ answered, and said, That her said brother should haue his best helpe for the doing of the same; and that her said brother, and the said _Dandy_, did both in this Examinates hearing, say, they would make away the said Mistris _Towneley_. And about a weeke after, this Examinate comming to the Carre-Hall, saw the said Mistris _Towneley_ in the Kitchin there, nothing well: whereupon it came into this Examinates minde, that her said brother, by the help of _Dandy_, had brought the said Mistris _Towneley_ into the state she then was in. Which Examinat, although she were but very yong, yet it was wonderfull to the Court, in so great a Presence and Audience, with what modestie, gouernement, and vnderstanding, shee deliuered this Euidence against the Prisoner at the Barre, being her owne naturall brother, which he himselfe could not deny, but there acknowledged in euery particular to be iust and true. But behold a little further, for here this bloudy Monster did not stay his hands: for besides his wicked and diuellish Spels, practises, meetings to consult of murder and mischiefe, which (by Gods grace) hereafter shall follow in order against him; there is yet more bloud to be laid vnto his charge. For although he were but yong, and in the beginning of his Time, yet was he carefull to obserue his Instructions from _Old Demdike_ his Grand-mother, and _Elizabeth Deuice_ his mother, in so much that no time should passe since his first entrance into that damnable Arte and exercise of Witchcrafts, Inchantments, Charmes and Sorceries, without mischiefe or murder. Neither should any man vpon the least occasion of offence giuen vnto him, escape his hands, without some danger. For these particulars were no sooner giuen in Euidence against him, when he was againe Indicted and Arraigned for the murder of these two. _viz._ _Iames Deuice_ of the Forrest of Pendle aforesaid, in the Countie of Lancaster, Labourer, the third time Indicted and Arraigned for the death of _Iohn Hargraues_ of Gould-shey-booth, in the Countie of Lancaster, by Witchcraft, as aforesaid. _Contra &c._ To this Inditement vpon his Arraignement he pleaded thereunto not guiltie: and for his Triall put himselfe vpon God and his Countrey, &c. _Iames Deuice_ of the Forrest of Pendle aforesaid, in the County of Lancaster, Labourer, the fourth time Indicted and Arraigned for the death of _Blaze Hargreues_ of Higham, in the Countie of Lancaster, by Witchcraft, as aforesaid. _Contra Pacem_, &c. To this Indictment vpon his Arraignement, he pleaded thereunto not guiltie; and for the Triall of his life, put himselfe vpon God and the Countrey. &c. Hereupon _Iennet Deuice_ produced, sworne and examined, as a witnesse on his Maiesties behalfe, against the said _Iames Deuice_, was examined in open Court, as followeth. _viz._ * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE _aforesaid._ Against IAMES DEVICE, _her brother, Prisoner at the Barre, vpon his Arraignement and Triall._ viz. Being sworne and examined in open Court, she saith, That her brother _Iames Deuice_ hath beene a Witch for the space of three yeares: about the beginning of which time, there appeared vnto him, in this Examinates mothers house, a Blacke-Dogge, which her said brother called _Dandy_, which _Dandy_ did aske her said brother what he would haue him to doe, whereunto he answered, hee would haue him to kill _Iohn Hargreiues_, of Gold-shey-booth: whereunto _Dandy_ answered that he would doe it: since which time the said _Iohn_ is dead. And at another time this Examinate confesseth and saith, That her said brother did call the said _Dandy_: who thereupon appeared in the said house, asking this Examinates brother what hee would haue him to doe: whereupon this Examinates said brother said, he would haue him to kill _Blaze Hargreiues_ of Higham: whereupon _Dandy_ answered, hee should haue his best helpe, and so vanished away: and shee saith, that since that time the said _Hargreiues_ is dead; but how long after, this Examinate doth not now remember. All which things, when he heard his sister vpon her Oath affirme, knowing them in his conscience to bee iust and true, slenderly denyed them, and thereupon insisted. To this Examination were diuerse witnesses examined in open Court _viua voce_, concerning the death of the parties, in such manner and forme, and at such time as the said _Iennet Deuice_ in her Euidence hath formerly declared to the Court. Which is all, and I doubt not but matter sufficient in Law to charge him with, for the death of these parties. For the proofe of his Practises, Charmes, Meetings at Malking-Tower, to consult with Witches to execute mischiefe, Master _Nowel_ humbly prayed, his owne Examination, taken and certified, might openly be read; and the rest in order, as they remaine vpon Record amongst the Records of the Crowne at Lancaster: as hereafter followeth, _viz._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE, _Sonne of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle: Taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill aforesaid_, Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the said Countie_, viz. And being examined, he further saith, That vpon Sheare-Thursday last, in the euening, he this Examinate stole a Wether from _Iohn Robinson_ of Barley, and brought it to his Grand-mothers house, old _Dembdike_, and there killed it: and that vpon the day following, being Good-Friday, about twelue of the clocke in the day time, there dined in this Examinates mothers house a number of persons, whereof three were men, with this Examinate, and the rest women; and that they met there for three Causes following, as this Examinates said Mother told this Examinate. 1 The first was, for the naming of the Spirit which _Alizon Deuice_, now prisoner at Lancaster, had, but did not name him, because she was not there. 2 The second Cause was, for the deliuerie of his said Grand-mother; this Examinates said sister _Alizon_; the said _Anne Chattox_, and her daughter _Redferne_; killing the Gaoler at Lancaster; and before the next Assises to blow vp the Castle there, to the end the aforesaid persons might by that meanes make an escape & get away; all which this Examinate then heard them conferre of. 3 And the third Cause was, for that there was a woman dwelling in Gisborne Parish, who came into this Examinates said Grandmothers house, who there came and craued assistance of the rest of them that were then there, for the killing of Master _Lister_ of Westby, because (as shee then said) he had borne malice vnto her, and had thought to haue put her away at the last Assises at Yorke, but could not: and this Examinate heard the said woman say, That her power was not strong ynough to doe it her selfe, being now lesse then before time it had beene. And also, that the said _Iennet Preston_ had a Spirit with her like vnto a white Foale, with a blacke spot in the forhead. And he also saith, That the names of the said Witches as were on Good-Friday at this Examinates said Grand-mothers house, & now this Examinates owne mothers, for so many of them as he did know, were these, _viz._ the wife of _Hugh Hargreiues_ of Barley; the wife of _Christopher Bulcock_ of the Mosse end, and _Iohn_ her sonne; the mother of _Myles Nutter_; _Elizabeth_, the wife of _Christopher Hargreiues_, of Thurniholme; _Christopher Howgate_, and _Elizabeth_, his wife; _Alice Graye_ of Coulne, and one _Mould-heeles_ wife, of the same: and this Examinate, and his Mother. And this Examinate further saith, That all the said Witches went out of the said House in their owne shapes and likenesses. And they all, by that they were forth of the dores, were gotten on Horsebacke, like vnto Foales, some of one colour, some of another; and _Prestons_ wife was the last: and when shee got on Horsebacke, they all presently vanished out of this Examinates sight. And before their said parting away, they all appointed to meete at the said _Prestons_ wiues house that day twelue-moneths; at which time the said _Prestons_ wife promised to make them a great Feast. And if they had occasion to meete in the meane time, then should warning be giuen, that they all should meete vpon _Romleyes_ Moore. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE. Against IAMES DEVICE _her said Brother, Prisoner at the Barre, vpon his Arraignement and Triall: Taken before_ ROGER NOWEL, _and_ NICHOLAS BANNESTER _Esquires: two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the said Countie._ viz. Shee saith, that vpon Good-Friday last there was about twentie persons, whereof only two were men, to this Examinates remembrance, at her said Grand-mothers house, called _Malking-Tower_ aforesaid, about twelue of the clock: all which persons this Examinates said Mother told her were Witches, and that they came to giue a name to _Alizon Deuice_ Spirit or Familiar, Sister to this Examinate, and now Prisoner, in the Castle of Lancaster: And also this Examinate saith, that the persons aforesaid had to their Dinners, Beefe, Bacon, and rosted Mutton, which Mutton, as this Examinates said brother said, was of a Weather of _Robinsons_ of Barley: which Weather was brought in the night before into this Examinates mothers house, by the said _Iames Deuice_ this Examinates said brother, and in this Examinates sight killed, and eaten, as aforesaid: And shee further saith, that shee knoweth the names of sixe of the said Witches, _viz._ the wife of the said _Hugh Hargreiues_, vnder Pendle: _Christopher Howget_, of Pendle, Vncle to this Examinate: and _Dick Miles_ wife, of the Rough-Lee: _Christopher Iacks_, of Thorny-holme, and his Wife: and the names of the residue shee this Examinate doth not know, sauing that this Examinates Mother and Brother were both there. * * * * * _The Examination of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _Mother of the said_ IAMES DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill aforesaid._ Before ROGER NOWEL, _and_ NICHOLAS BANNESTER _Esquires; as aforesaid._ viz. Being examined, the said _Elizabeth_ saith and confesseth, that vpon Good-Friday last there dined at this Examinates house, those which she hath said to be Witches, and doth verily thinke them to bee Witches, and their names are those, whom _Iames Deuice_ hath formerly spoken of to be there. And shee also confesseth in all things touching the Christning of her Spirit, and the killing of Master _Lister_ of Westby, as the said _Iames Deuice_ confesseth. But denieth that any talke was amongst th[=e] the said Witches, to her now remembrance, at the said meeting together, touching the killing of the Gaoler at Lancaster; blowing vp of the Castle, thereby to deliuer old _Dembdike_ her Mother; _Alizon Deuice_ her Daughter, and other Prisoners, committed to the said Castle for Witchcraft. After all these things opened, and deliuered in euidence against him; Master _Couil_, who hath the custodie of the Gaole at Lancaster, hauing taken great paines with him during the time of his imprisonment, to procure him to discouer his practizes, and such other Witches as he knew to bee dangerous: Humbly prayed the fauour of the Court that his voluntarie confession to M. _Anderton_, M. _Sands_ the Major of Lancaster, M. _Couel_, and others, might openly bee published and declared in Court. * * * * * _The voluntarie confession and declaration of_ IAMES DEVICE, _Prisoner in the Castle at Lancaster._ Before WILLIAM SANDS, _Maior of Lancaster_, IAMES ANDERTON, _Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the Countie of Lancaster: And_ THOMAS COVEL, _Gentleman, one of his Maiesties Coroners in the same Countie._ viz. _Iames Deuice_, Prisoner in the Castle at Lancaster, saith, That his said Spirit _Dandie_, being very earnest with him to giue him his soule, He answered, he would giue him that part thereof that was his owne to giue: and thereupon the said Spirit said, hee was aboue CHRIST IESVS, and therefore hee must absolutely giue him his Soule: and that done, hee would giue him power to reuenge himselfe against any whom he disliked. And he further saith, that the said Spirit did appeare vnto him after sundrie times, in the likenesse of a Dogge, and at euery time most earnestly perswaded him to giue him his Soule absolutely: who answered as before, that he would giue him his owne part and no further. And hee saith, that at the last time that the said Spirit was with him, which was the Tuesday next before his apprehension; when as hee could not preuaile with him to haue his Soule absolutely granted vnto him, as aforesaid; the said Spirit departed from him, then giuing a most fearefull crie and yell, and withall caused a great flash of fire to shew about him: which said Spirit did neuer after trouble this Examinate. _William Sands_, _James Anderton._ _Tho. Couel, Coroner._ The said _Iennet Deuice_, his Sister, in the very end of her Examination against the said _Iames Deuice_, confesseth and saith, that her Mother taught her two Prayers: the one to get drinke, which was this. _viz._ _Crucifixus hoc signum vitam Eternam._ Amen. And shee further saith, That her Brother _Iames Deuice_, the Prisoner at the Barre, hath confessed to her this Examinate, that he by this Prayer hath gotten drinke: and that within an houre after the saying the said Prayer, drinke hath come into the house after a very strange manner. And the other Prayer, the said _Iames Deuice_ affirmed, would cure one bewitched, which shee recited as followeth. _viz._ _A Charme._[K_b_1] _Vpon Good-Friday, I will fast while I may Vntill I heare them knell Our Lords owne Bell, Lord in his messe With his twelue Apostles good, What hath he in his hand Ligh in leath wand:[K_b_2] What hath he in his other hand? Heauens doore key, Open, open Heauen doore keyes, Steck, steck hell doore. Let Crizum child Goe to it Mother mild,[K_b_3] What is yonder that casts a light so farrandly,[K_b_4] Mine owne deare Sonne that's naild to the Tree. He is naild sore by the heart and hand, And holy harne Panne, Well is that man That Fryday spell can, His Childe to learne; A Crosse of Blew, and another of Red, As good Lord was to the Roode._ Gabriel _laid him downe to sleepe Vpon the ground of holy weepe:[K2_a_1] Good Lord came walking by, Sleep'st thou, wak'st thou_ Gabriel, _No Lord I am sted with sticke and stake, That I can neither sleepe nor wake: Rise vp_ Gabriel _and goe with me, The stick nor the stake shall neuer deere thee.[K2_a_2] Sweete Iesus our Lord, Amen._ _Iames Deuice._ What can be said more of this painfull Steward, that was so carefull to prouide Mutton against this Feast and solemne meeting at _Malking-Tower_, of this hellish and diuellish band of Witches, (the like whereof hath not been heard of) then hath beene openly published and declared against him at the Barre, vpon his Arraignement and Triall: wherein it pleased God to raise vp Witnesses beyond expectation to conuince him; besides his owne particular Examinations, which being shewed and read vnto him; he acknowledged to be iust and true. And what I promised to set forth against him, in the beginning of his Arraignment and Triall, I doubt not but therein I haue satisfied your expectation at large, wherein I haue beene very sparing to charge him with any thing, but with sufficient matter of Record and Euidence, able to satisfie the consciences of the Gentlemen of the Iury of Life and Death; to whose good consideration I leaue him, with the perpetuall Badge and Brand of as dangerous and malicious a Witch, as euer liued in these parts of Lancashire, of his time: and spotted with as much Innocent bloud, as euer any Witch of his yeares. After all these proceedings, by direction of his Lordship, were their seuerall Examinations, subscribed by euery one of them in particular, shewed vnto them at the time of their Triall, & acknowledged by th[=e] to be true, deliuered to the gentlemen of the Iury of Life & Death, for the better satisfaction of their consciences: after due consideration of which said seuerall examinations, confessions, and voluntary declarations, as well of themselues as of their children, friends and confederates, The Gentlemen deliuered vp their Verdict against the Prisoners, as followeth. _viz._ _The Verdict of Life and Death._ Who found _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, _Elizabeth Deuice_, and _Iames Deuice_, guiltie of the seuerall murthers by Witchcraft, contained in the Indictments against them, and euery of them. [Illustration: decoration] THE WITCHES OF SALMESBVRY.[K3_a_] _The Arraignement and Triall of_ IENNET BIERLEY ELLEN BIERLEY, _and_ IANE SOVTHWORTH _of Salmesbury, in the County of Lancaster; for Witchcraft vpon the bodie of_ GRACE SOWERBVTS, _vpon Wednesday the nineteenth of August: At the Assises and generall Gaole-deliuery, holden at Lancaster._ Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assize at Lancaster: as hereafter followeth._ viz. _Iennet Bierley._ _Ellen Bierley._ _Iane Southworth._ Thus haue we for a time left the Graund Witches of the Forrest of Pendle, to the good consideration of a verie sufficient Iury of worthy Gentlemen of their Co[=u]trey. We are now come to the famous Witches of Salmesbury, as the Countrey called them, who by such a subtill practise and conspiracie of a Seminarie Priest,[K3_b_1] or, as the best in this Honorable Assembly thinke, a Iesuite, whereof this Countie of Lancaster hath good store,[K3_b_2] who by reason of the generall entertainement they find, and great maintenance they haue, resort hither, being farre from the Eye of Iustice, and therefore, _Procul a fulmine_; are now brought to the Barre, to receiue their Triall, and such a young witnesse prepared and instructed to giue Euidence against them, that it must be the Act of GOD that must be the means to discouer their Practises and Murthers, and by an infant: but how and in what sort Almightie GOD deliuered them from the stroake of Death, when the Axe was layd to the Tree, and made frustrate the practise of this bloudie Butcher, it shall appeare vnto you vpon their Arraignement and Triall, whereunto they are now come. Master _Thomas Couel_, who hath the charge of the prisoners in the Castle at Lancaster, was commaunded to bring forth the said _Jennet Bierley_, _Ellen Bierley_, _Jane Southworth_, to the Barre to receiue their Triall. Indictment. The said _Iennet Bierley_, _Ellen Bierley_, and _Iane Southworth_ of Salmesbury, in the Countie of Lancaster, being indicted, for that they and euery of them felloniously had practised, exercised, and vsed diuerse deuillish and wicked Arts, called _Witchcrafts_, _Inchauntments_, _Charmes_, and _Sorceries_, in and vpon one _Grace Sowerbuts_: so that by meanes thereof her bodie wasted and consumed, _Contra formam Statuti &c. Et Contra Pacem dicti Domini Regis Coronam & dignitatem &c._ To this Indictment vpon their Arraignement, they pleaded _Not-Guiltie_; and for the Triall of their liues put themselues vpon GOD and their Countrey. Whereupon Master Sheriffe of the Countie of Lancaster, by direction of the Court, made returne of a very sufficient Iurie to passe betweene the Kings Maiestie and them, vpon their liues and deaths, with such others as follow in order. The Prisoners being now at the Barre vpon their Triall, _Grace Sowerbutts_, the daughter of _Thomas Sowerbutts_, about the age of foureteene yeares, was produced to giue Euidence for the Kings Maiestie against them: who standing vp, she was commaunded to point out the Prisoners, which shee did, and said as followeth, _viz_ * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ GRACE SOWERBVTTS, _daughter of_ THOMAS SOWERBVTTS, _of Salmesbury, in the Countie of Lancaster Husband-man, vpon her Oath_, Against IENNET BIERLEY, ELLEN BIERLEY, _and_ IANE SOVTHWORTH, _prisoners at the Barre, vpon their Arraignement and Triall_, viz. The said _Grace Sowerbutts_ vpon her oath saith, That for the space of some yeares now last past shee hath beene haunted and vexed with some women, who haue vsed to come to her: which women, shee sayth, were _Iennet Bierley_, this Informers Grand-mother; _Ellen Bierley_, wife to _Henry Bierley_; _Iane Southworth_, late the wife of _Iohn Southworth_, and one _Old Doewife_, all of Salmesburie aforesaid. And shee saith, That now lately those foure women did violently draw her by the haire of the head, and layd her on the toppe of a Hay-mowe, in the said _Henry Bierleyes_ Barne. And shee saith further, That not long after the said _Iennet Bierley_ did meete this Examinate neere vnto the place where shee dwellleth, and first appeared in her owne likenesse, and after that in the likenesse of a blacke Dogge, and as this Examinate did goe ouer a Style, shee picked her off:[K4_b_] howbeit shee saith shee had no hurt then, but rose againe, and went to her Aunts in Osbaldeston, and returned backe againe to her Fathers house the same night, being fetched home by her father. And she saith, That in her way home-wards shee did then tell her Father, how shee had beene dealt withall both then and at sundry times before that; and before that time she neuer told any bodie thereof: and being examined why she did not, she sayth, she could not speake thereof, though she desired so to doe. And she further sayth, That vpon Saterday, being the fourth of this instant Aprill, shee this Examinate going towards Salmesbury bote, to meete her mother, comming from Preston, shee saw the said _Iennet Bierley_, who met this Examinate at a place called the Two Brigges, first in her owne shape, and afterwardes in the likenesse of a blacke Dogge, with two legges, which Dogge went close by the left side of this Examinate, till they came to a Pitte of Water, and then the said Dogge spake, and persuaded this Examinate to drowne her selfe there, saying, it was a faire and an easie death: Whereupon this Examinate thought there came one to her in a white sheete, and carried her away from the said Pitte, vpon the comming whereof the said blacke Dogge departed away; and shortly after the said white thing departed also: And after this Examinate had gone further on her way, about the length of two or three Fields, the said blacke Dogge did meete her againe, and going on her left side, as aforesaid, did carrie her into a Barne of one _Hugh Walshmans_,[L_a_] neere there by, and layed her vpon the Barne-floore, and couered this Examinate with Straw on her bodie, and Haye on her head, and the Dogge it selfe lay on the toppe of the said Straw, but how long the said Dogge lay there, this Examinate cannot tell, nor how long her selfe lay there: for shee sayth, That vpon her lying downe there, as aforesaid, her Speech and Senses were taken from her: and the first time shee knew where shee was, shee was layed vpon a bedde in the said _Walshmans_ house, which (as shee hath since beene told) was vpon the Monday at night following: and shee was also told, That shee was found and taken from the place where shee first lay, by some of her friends, and carried into the said _Walshmans_ house, within a few houres after shee was layed in the Barne, as aforesaid. And shee further sayth, That vpon the day following, being Tuesday, neere night of the same day, shee this Examinate was fetched by her Father and Mother from the said _Walshmans_ house to her Fathers house. And shee saith, That at the place before specified, called the Two Brigges, the said _Iennet Bierley_ and _Ellen Bierley_ did appeare vnto her in their owne shapes: whereupon this Examinate fell downe, and after that was not able to speake, or goe, till the Friday following: during which time, as she lay in her Fathers house, the said _Iennet Bierley_ and _Ellen Bierley_ did once appeare vnto her in their owne shapes, but they did nothing vnto her then, neither did shee euer see them since. And shee further sayth, That a good while before all this, this Examinate did goe with the said _Iennet Bierley_, her Grand-mother, and the said _Ellen Bierley_ her Aunt, at the bidding of her said Grand-mother, to the house of one _Thomas Walshman_, in Salmesbury aforesaid. And comming thither in the night, when all the house-hold was a-bed, the doores being shut, the said _Iennet Bierley_ did open them, but this Examinate knoweth not how: and beeing come into the said house, this Examinate and the said _Ellen Bierley_ stayed there, and the said _Iennet Bierley_ went into the Chamber where the said _Walshman_ and his wife lay, & from thence brought a little child,[L2_a_1] which this Examinate thinketh was in bed with it Father and Mother: and after the said _Iennet Bierley_ had set her downe by the fire, with the said child, shee did thrust a naile into the nauell of the said child: and afterwards did take a pen and put it in at the said place, and did suck there a good space, and afterwards laid the child in bed againe: and then the said _Iennet_ and the said _Ellen_ returned to their owne houses, and this Examinate with them. And shee thinketh that neither the said _Thomas Walshman_, nor his wife knew that the said child was taken out of the bed from them. And shee saith also, that the said child did not crie when it was hurt, as aforesaid: But shee saith, that shee thinketh that the said child did thenceforth languish, and not long after dyed. And after the death of the said child; the next night after the buriall thereof, the said _Iennet Bierley_ & _Ellen Bierley_, taking this Examinate with them, went to Salmesburie Church, and there did take vp the said child, and the said _Iennet_ did carrie it out of the Church-yard in her armes, and then did put it in her lap and carryed it home to her owne house, and hauing it there did boile some therof in a Pot, and some did broile on the coales, of both which the said _Iennet_ & _Ellen_ did eate, and would haue had this Examinate and one _Grace Bierley_, Daughter of the said _Ellen_, to haue eaten with them, but they refused so to doe: And afterwards the said _Iennet_ & _Ellen_ did seethe the bones of the said child in a pot, & with the Fat that came out of the said bones, they said they would annoint themselues,[L2_a_2] that thereby they might sometimes change themselues into other shapes. And after all this being done, they said they would lay the bones againe in the graue the next night following, but whether they did so or not, this Examinate knoweth not: Neither doth shee know how they got it out of the graue at the first taking of it vp. And being further sworne and examined, she deposeth & saith, that about halfe a yeare agoe, the said _Iennet Bierley_, _Ellen Bierley_, _Iane Southworth_, and this Examinate (who went by the appointment of the said _Iennet_ her Grand mother) did meete at a place called Red banck, vpon the North side of the water of Ribble, euery Thursday and Sonday at night by the space of a fortnight, and at the water side there came vnto them, as they went thether, foure black things, going vpright, and yet not like men in the face: which foure did carrie the said three women and this Examinate ouer the Water, and when they came to the said Red Banck they found some thing there which they did eate. But this Examinate saith, shee neuer saw such meate; and therefore shee durst not eate thereof, although her said Grand mother did bidde her eate. And after they had eaten, the said three Women and this Examinate danced, euery one of them with one of the blacke things aforesaid, and after their dancing the said black things did pull downe the said three Women, and did abuse their bodies, as this Examinate thinketh, for shee saith, that the black thing that was with her, did abuse her bodie. The said Examinate further saith vpon her Oth, That about ten dayes after her Examination taken at Blackborne, shee this Examinate being then come to her Fathers house againe, after shee had beene certaine dayes at her Vnckles house in Houghton: _Iane Southworth_ widow, did meet this Examinate at her Fathers house dore and did carrie her into the loft,[L3_a_] and there did lay her vppon the floore, where shee was shortly found by her Father and brought downe, and laid in a bed, as afterwards shee was told: for shee saith, that from the first meeting of the said _Iane Southworth_, shee this Examinate had her speech and senses taken from her. But the next day shee saith, shee came somewhat to her selfe, and then the said Widow _Southworth_ came againe to this Examinate to her bed-side, and tooke her out of bed, and said to this Examinate, that shee did her no harme the other time, in respect of that shee now would after doe to her, and thereupon put her vpon a hey-stack, standing some three or foure yards high from the earth, where shee was found after great search made, by a neighbours Wife neare dwelling, and then laid in her bedde againe, where she remained speechlesse and senselesse as before, by the space of two or three daies: And being recouered, within a weeke after shee saith, that the said _Iane Southworth_ did come againe to this Examinate at her fathers house and did take her away, and laid her in a ditch neare to the house vpon her face, and left her there, where shee was found shortly after, and laid vpon a bedde, but had not her senses againe of a day & a night, or thereabouts. And shee further saith, That vpon Tuesday last before the taking of this her Examination, the said _Iane Southworth_ came to this Examinates Fathers house, and finding this Examinate without the doore, tooke her and carried her into the Barne, and thrust her head amongst a companie of boords that were there standing, where shee was shortly after found and laid in a bedde, and remained in her old fit till the Thursday at night following. And being further examined touching her being at Red-bancke, shee saith, That the three women, by her before named, were carried backe againe ouer Ribble, by the same blacke things that carried them thither; and saith that at their said meeting in the Red-bancke, there did come also diuers other women, and did meete them there, some old, some yong, which this Examinate thinketh did dwell vpon the North-side of Ribble, because she saw them not come ouer the Water: but this Examinate knew none of them, neither did she see them eat or dance, or doe anything else that the rest did, sauing that they were there and looked on. These particular points of Euidence being thus vrged against the Prisoners: the father of this _Grace Sowerbutts_ prayed that _Thomas Walshman_, whose childe they are charged to murther, might be examined as a witnes vpon his oath, for the Kings Maiestie, against the Prisoners at the Barre: who vpon this strange deuised accusation, deliuered by this impudent wench, were in opinion of many of that great Audience guilty of this bloudie murther, and more worthy to die then any of these Witches. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ THOMAS WALSHMAN, _of Salmesbury, in the Countie of Lancaster, Yeoman._ Against IENNET BIERLEY, ELLEN BIERLEY, _and_ IANE SOVTHWORTH, _Prisoners at the Barre, vpon their Arraignement and Triall, as followeth._ viz. The said Examinate, _Thomas Walshman_, vpon his oath saith, That hee had a childe died about Lent was twelue-month, who had beene sicke by the space of a fortnight or three weekes, and was afterwards buried in Salmesburie Church: which childe when it died was about a yeare old; But how it came to the death of it, this Examinate knoweth not. And he further saith, that about the fifteenth of Aprill last, or thereabouts, the said _Grace Sowerbutts_ was found in this Examinates fathers Barne, laid vnder a little hay and straw, and from thence was carried into this Examinates house, and there laid till the Monday at night following: during which time shee did not speak, but lay as if she had beene dead. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IOHN SINGLETON: _Taken at Salmesbury, in the Countie of Lancaster, the seuenth day of August_: Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI Angliæ, Franciæ, & Hiberniæ, Fidei Defensor. &c. Decimo & Scotiæ, xlvj. Before ROBERT HOVLDEN,[L4_b_1] _Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the County of Lancaster._ Against IENNET BIERLEY, ELLEN BIERLEY, _and_ IANE SOVTHWORTH, _which hereafter followeth._ The said Examinate vpon his oath saith, That hee hath often heard his old Master, Sir _Iohn Southworth_[L4_b_2] Knight, now deceased, say, touching the late wife of _Iohn Southworth_, now in the Gaole, for suspition of Witchcraft: That the said wife was as he thought an euill woman, and a Witch: and he said that he was sorry for her husband, that was his kinsman, for he thought she would kill him. And this Examinate further saith, That the said Sir _Iohn Southworth_ in his comming or going betweene his owne house at Salmesbury, and the Towne of Preston, did for the most part forbeare to passe by the house, where the said wife dwelled, though it was his nearest and best way; and rode another way, only for feare of the said wife, as this Examinate verily thinketh. * * * * * _The Examination of_ WILLIAM ALKER _of Salmesbury, in the Countie of Lancaster, Yeoman: Taken the fifteenth day of Aprill_, Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI, Angliæ, Franciæ, & Hiberniæ, Decimo & Scotiæ, quadragesimo quinto. Before ROBERT HOVLDEN, _one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the County of Lancaster: Against_ IENNET BIERLEY, ELLEN BIERLEY, _and_ IANE BIERLEY, _which hereafter followeth._ viz. The said Examinate vpon his oath saith, That hee hath seene the said Sir _Iohn Southworth_ shunne to meet the said wife of _Iohn Southworth_, now Prisoner in the Gaole, when he came neere where she was. And hath heard the said Sir _Iohn Southworth_ say, that he liked her not, and that he doubted she would bewitch him. Here was likewise _Thomas Sowerbutts_, father of _Grace Sowerbutts_, examined vpon his oath, and many other witnesses to little purpose: who being examined by the Court, could depose little against them: But the finding of the wench vpon the hay in her counterfeit fits: wherfore I leaue to trouble you with the particular declaration of their Euidence against the Prisoners, In respect there was not any one witnes able to charge them with one direct matter of Witchcraft; nor proue any thing for the murther of the childe. Herein, before we come to the particular declaration of that wicked and damnable practise of this Iesuite or Seminary, I shall commend vnto your examination and iudgement some points of her Euidence, wherein you shal see what impossibilities are in this accusati[=o] brought to this perfection, by the great care and paines of this officious Doctor, Master _Thompson_ or _Southworth_, who commonly worketh vpon the Feminine disposition, being more Passiue then Actiue. * * * * * _The particular points of the Euidence_[M1_b_] _of_ GRACE SOWERBUTTS, _viz._ Euidence. _That for the space of some yeares she hath been haunted and vexed with some women, who haue vsed to come to her._ The Iesuite forgot to instruct his Scholler how long it is since she was tormented: it seemes it is long since he read the old Badge of a Lyer, _Oportet mendacem esse memorem_. He knowes not how long it is since they came to church, after which time they began to practise Witchcraft. It is a likely thing the Torment and Panges of Witchcraft can be forgotten; and therefore no time can be set downe. _Shee saith that now lately these foure women did violently draw her by the haire of the head, and lay her on the top of a Hay-mow._ Heere they vse great violence to her, whome in another place they make choise to be of their counsell, to go with them to the house of _Walshman_ to murther the childe. This courtesie deserues no discouery of so foule a Fact. _Not long after, the said_ Iennet Bierley _did meet this Examinate neere vnto the place where she dwelled, and first appeared in her owne likenesse, and after that in the likenesse of a blacke Dogge._ _Vno & eodem tempore_, shee transformed her selfe into a Dogge. I would know by what meanes any Priest can maintaine this point of Euidence. _And as shee went ouer a Style, shee picked her ouer, but had no hurt._ This is as likely to be true as the rest, to throw a child downe from the toppe of a House, and neuer hurt her great toe. _She rose againe; had no hurt, went to her Aunt, and returned backe againe to her Fathers house, being fetched home._ I pray you obserue these contrarieties, in order as they are placed, to accuse the Prisoners. _Saterday the fourth of this instant Aprill._ Which was about the very day the Witches of the Forrest of Pendle were sent to Lancaster. Now was the time for the Seminarie to instruct, accuse, and call into question these poore women: for the wrinkles of an old wiues face is good euidence to the Iurie against a Witch.[M2_a_] And how often will the common people say (_Her eyes are sunke in her head_, GOD _blesse vs from her._) But old _Chattox_ had _Fancie_,[M2_b_] besides her withered face, to accuse her. _This Examinate did goe with the said_ Iennet Bierley _her Grand-mother, and_ Ellen Bierley _her Aunt, to the house of_ Walshman, _in the night-time, to murther a Child in strange manner._ This of all the rest is impossible, to make her of their counsell, to doe murther, whome so cruelly and barbarously they pursue from day to day, and torment her. The Witches of the Forrest of Pendle were neuer so cruell nor barbarous. _And shee also saith, the Child cried not when it was hurt._ All this time the Child was asleepe, or the Child was of an extraordinarie patience, _ô inauditum facinus_! _After they had eaten, the said three women and this Examinate daunced euery one of them with one of the Blacke things: and after, the Blacke things abused the said women._ Here is good Euidence to take away their liues. This is more proper for the Legend of Lyes, then the Euidence of a witnesse vpon Oath, before a reuerend and learned Iudge, able to conceiue this Villanie, and finde out the practise. Here is the Religious act of a Priest, but behold the euent of it. _She describes the foure Blacke things to goe vpright, but not like Men in the face._ The Seminarie mistakes the face for the feete: For _Chattox_ and all her fellow Witches agree, the Deuill is clouen-footed: but _Fancie_ had a very good face, and was a very proper Man. _About tenne dayes after her Examination taken at Black-borne, then she was tormented._ Still he pursues his Proiect: for hearing his Scholler had done well, he laboured she might doe more in this nature. But notwithstanding, many things are layd to be in the times when they were Papists: yet the Priest neuer tooke paines to discouer them, nor instruct his Scholler, vntill they came to Church. Then all this was the Act of GOD, to raise a child to open all things, and then to difcouer his plotted Tragedie. Yet in this great discouerie, the Seminarie forgot to deuise a Spirit for them. And for _Thomas Walshman_, vpon his Oath he sayth, That his Childe had beene sicke by the space of a fortnight, or three weekes, before it died. And _Grace Sowerbutts_ saith, they tooke it out of the bedde, strucke a nayle into the Nauell, sucked bloud, layd it downe againe; and after, tooke it out of the Graue, with all the rest, as you haue heard. How these two agree, you may, vpon view of their Euidence, the better conceiue, and be able to judge. How well this proiect, to take away the liues of three innocent poore creatures by practise and villanie; to induce a young Scholler to commit periurie, to accuse her owne Grand-mother, Aunt, &c. agrees either with the Title of a Iesuite, or the dutie of a Religious Priest, who should rather professe Sinceritie and Innocencie, then practise Trecherie: But this was lawfull; for they are Heretikes accursed, to leaue the companie of Priests; to frequent Churches, heare the word of GOD preached, and professe Religion sincerely. But by the course of Times and Accidents, wise men obserue, that very seldome hath any mischieuous attempt beene vnder-taken without the direction or assistance of a Iesuit, or Seminarie Priest. Who did not condemne these Women vpon this euidence, and hold them guiltie of this so foule and horrible murder? But Almightie God, who in his prouidence had prouided meanes for their deliuerance, although the Priest by the help of the Deuill, had prouided false witnesses to accuse them; yet GOD had prepared and placed in the Seate of Iustice, an vpright Iudge to sit in Iudgement vpon their liues, who after he had heard all the euidence at large against the Prisoners for the Kings Majestie, demanded of them what answere they could make. They humbly vpon their knees with weeping teares, desired him for Gods cause to examine _Grace Sowerbuts_, who set her on, or by whose meanes this accusation came against them. Immediately the countenance of this _Grace Sowerbuts_ changed: The witnesses being behinde, began to quarrell and accuse one an other. In the end his Lordship examined the Girle, who could not for her life make any direct answere, but strangely amazed, told him, shee was put to a Master to learne, but he told her nothing of this. But here as his Lordships care and paines was great to discouer the practises of these odious Witches of the Forrest of Pendle, and other places, now vpon their triall before him: So was he desirous to discouer this damnable practise, to accuse these poore Women, and bring their liues in danger, and thereby to deliuer the innocent. And as he openly deliuered it vpon the Bench, in the hearing of this great Audience: That if a Priest or Iesuit had a hand in one end of it, there would appeare to bee knauerie, and practise in the other end of it. And that it might the better appeare to the whole World, examined _Thomas Sowerbuts_, what Master taught his daughter: in generall termes, he denyed all. The Wench had nothing to say, but her Master told her nothing of this. In the end, some that were present told his Lordship the truth, and the Prisoners informed him how shee went to learne with one _Thompson_ a Seminarie Priest, who had instructed and taught her this accusation against them, because they were once obstinate Papists, and now came to Church. Here is the discouerie of this Priest, and of his whole practise. Still this fire encreased more and more, and one witnesse accusing an other, all things were laid open at large. In the end his Lordship tooke away the Girle from her Father, and committed her to M. _Leigh_, a very religious Preacher,[M4_a_] and M. _Chisnal_, two Iustices of the Peace, to be carefully examined. Who tooke great paines to examine her of euery particular point: In the end they came into the Court, and there deliuered this Examination as followeth. * * * * * _The Examination of_ GRACE SOWERBVTS, _of Salmesburie, in the Countie of Lancaster, Spinster: Taken vpon Wednesday the 19. of August 1612. Annoq; Reg. Regis_, IACOBI _Angliæ, Franciæ, & Hiberniæ, Fidei Defensoris, &c. decimo & Scotiæ_, xlvi. Before WILLIAM LEIGH, _and_ EDWARD CHISNAL, _Esquires; two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the same Countie: At the Assizes and generall Gaole deliuerie, holden at Lancaster._ By _Direction of Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assize at Lancaster._ Being demanded whether the accusation shee laid vppon her Grand-mother, _Iennet Bierley_, _Ellen Bierley_, and _Iane Southworth_, of Witchcraft, _viz._ of the killing of the child of _Thomas Walshman_, with a naile in the Nauell, the boyling, eating, and oyling, thereby to transforme themselues into diuers shapes, was true; Shee doth vtterly denie the same; or that euer shee saw any such practises done by them. Shee further saith, that one Master _Thompson_, which she taketh to be Master _Christopher Southworth_, to whom shee was sent to learne her prayers, did perswade, counsell, and aduise her, to deale as formerly hath beene said against her said Grand-mother, Aunt, and _Southworths_ wife. And further shee confesseth and saith, that shee neuer did know, or saw any Deuils, nor any other Visions, as formerly by her hath beene alleaged and informed. Also shee confesseth and saith, That shee was not throwne or cast vpon the Henne-ruffe, and Hay-mow in the Barne, but that shee went vp vpon the Mow her selfe by the wall side. Being further demanded whether shee euer was at the Church, shee saith, shee was not, but promised her after to goe to the Church, and that very willingly. _Signum_ [Symbol: Maltese cross] Grace Sowerbuts. _William Leigh._ _Edward Chisnal._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ IENNET BIERLEY, ELLEN BIERLEY, _and_ IANE SOVTHWORTH, _of Salmesburie, in the Countie of Lancaster, Taken vpon Wednesday the nineteenth of August_ 1612. _Annoq; Reg. Regis_, IACOBI _Angliæ, Franciæ, & Hiberniæ, Fidei Defensoris, &c. decimo & Scotiæ_, xlvi. Before WILLIAM LEIGH, _and_ EDWARD CHISNAL, _Esquires; two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the same Countie: At the Assizes and generall Gaole deliuerie, holden at Lancaster._ By _Direction of Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assize at Lancaster._ _Iennet Bierley_ being demanded what shee knoweth, or hath heard, how _Grace Sowerbuts_ was brought to _Christopher Southworth_, Priest; shee answereth, that shee was brought to M. _Singletons_ house by her owne Mother, where the said Priest was, and that shee further heard her said Mother say, after her Daughter had been in her fit, that shee should be brought vnto her Master, meaning the said Priest. And shee further saith, that shee thinketh it was by and through the Counsell of the said M. _Thomson_, alias _Southworth_, Priest, That _Grace Sowerbuts_ her Grand-child accused her of Witchcraft, and of such practises as shee is accused of: and thinketh further, the cause why the said _Thompson_, alias _Southworth_ Priest, should practise with the Wench to doe it was, for that shee went to the Church. _Iane Southworth_ saith shee saw Master _Thompson_, alias _Southworth_, the Priest, a month or sixe weekes before she was committed to the Gaole; and had conference with him in a place called Barne-hey-lane, where and when shee challenged him for slandering her to bee a Witch: whereunto he answered, that what he had heard thereof, he heard from her mother and her Aunt: yet she, this Examinate, thinketh in her heart it was by his procurement, and is moued so to thinke, for that shee would not be disswaded from the Church. _Ellen Bierley_ saith, Shee saw Master _Thompson_, alias _Southworth_, sixe or eight weeks before she was committed, and thinketh the said Priest was the practiser with _Grace Sowerbutts_, to accuse her of Witchcraft, and knoweth no cause why he should so doe, but because she goeth to the Church. _Signum_, [Symbol: Maltese cross] Iennet Bierley. _Signum_, £ Iane Southworth. _Signum_, [Symbol: Greek Phi] Ellen Bierley. _William Leigh._ _Edward Chisnall._ These Examinations being taken, they were brought into the Court, and there openly in the presence of this great Audience published, and declared to the Iurie of Life and Death; and thereupon the Gentlemen of their Iury required to consider of them. For although they stood vpon their Triall, for matter of Fact of Witchcraft, Murther, and much more of the like nature: yet in respect all their Accusations did appeare to bee practise: they were now to consider of them, and to acquit them. Thus were these poore Innocent creatures, by the great care and paines of this honorable Iudge, deliuered from the danger of this conspiracie; this bloudie practise of the Priest laid open: of whose fact I may lawfully say; _Etiam si ego tacuero clamabunt lapides_. These are but ordinary with Priests and Iesuites: no respect of Bloud, kindred, or friendship, can moue them to forbeare their Conspiracies: for when he had laboured treacherously to seduce and conuert them, and yet could doe no good; then deuised he this meanes. _God of his great mercie deliuer vs all from them and their damnable conspiracies: and when any of his Maiesties subiects, so free and innocent as these, shall come in question, grant them as honorable a Triall, as Reuerend and worthy a Iudge to sit in Iudgement vpon them; and in the end as speedie a deliuerance. And for that which I haue heard of them; seene with my eyes, and taken paines to Reade of them: My humble prayer shall be to God Almightie._ Vt Conuertantur ne pereant. Aut confundantur ne noceant. To conclude, because the discourse of these three women of Salmesbury hath beene long and troublesome to you; it is heere placed amongst the Witches, by special order and commandement, to set forth to the World the practise and conspiracie of this bloudy Butcher. And because I haue presented to your view a Kalender in the Frontispice of this Booke, of twentie notorious Witches: I shall shew you their deliuerance in order, as they came to their Arraignement and Triall euery day, and as the Gentlemen of euery Iury for life and death stood charged with them. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ ANNE REDFERNE,[N3_b_] _Daughter of_ ANNE WHITTLE, _alias_ CHATTOX, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, for Witchcraft; vpon Wednesday the nineteenth of August, at the Assises and Generall Gaole-deliuerie, holden at Lancaster_, Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assise at Lancaster._ _Anne Redferne._ Svch is the horror of Murther, and the crying sinne of Bloud, that it will neuer bee satisfied but with Bloud. So fell it out with this miserable creature, _Anne Redferne_, the daughter of _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_: who, as shee was her Mother, and brought her into the World, so was she the meanes to bring her into this danger, and in the end to her Execution, for much Bloud spilt, and many other mischiefes done. For vpon Tuesday night (although you heare little of her at the Arraignement and Triall of old _Chattox_, her Mother) yet was shee arraigned for the murther of _Robert Nutter_, and others: and by the fauour and mercifull consideration of the Iurie, the Euidence being not very pregnant against her, she was acquited, and found Not guiltie. Such was her condition and course of life, as had she liued, she would haue beene very dangerous: for in making pictures of Clay, she was more cunning then any: But the innocent bloud yet vnsatisfied, and crying out vnto GOD for satisfaction and reuenge; the crie of his people (to deliuer them from the danger of such horrible and bloudie executioners, and from her wicked and damnable practises) hath now againe brought her to a second Triall, where you shall heare what wee haue vpon Record against her. This _Anne Redferne_, prisoner in the Castle at Lancaster, being brought to the Barre, before the great Seat of Iustice, was there, according to the former order and course, indicted and arraigned, for that she felloniously had practised, exercised, and vsed her deuillish and wicked Arts, called _Witchcrafts_, _Inchauntments_, _Charmes_, and _Sorceries_, in and vpon one _Christopher Nutter_, and him the said _Christopher Nutter_, by force of the same Witchcrafts, felloniously did kill and murther, _Contra formam Statuti &c. Et Contra Pacem &c._ Vpon her Arraignement to this Indictment, she pleaded _Not-Guiltie_; and for the triall of her life put her selfe vpon GOD and the Countrey. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iurie of Life and Death stand charged with her as with others. _The Euidence against_ Anne Redferne, _Prisoner at the Barre._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ ELIZABETH SOTHERNES, alias OLD DEMBDIKE, _taken at the Fence, in the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, the second day of Aprill_, Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI, Angliæ, &c. decimo, & Scotiæ xlv. Against ANNE REDFERNE (_the daughter of_ ANNE WHITTLE, alias CHATTOX) _Prisoner at the Barre:_ Before ROGER NOWEL _of Reade, Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the said Countie._ This Examinate saith, That about halfe a yeare before _Robert Nutter_ died, as this Examinate thinketh, this Examinate went to the house of _Thomas Redferne_, which was about Midsummer, as shee this Examinate now remembreth it: and there, within three yards of the East end of the said house, shee saw the said _Anne Whittle_ and _Anne Redferne_, wife of the said _Thomas Redferne_, and daughter of the said _Anne Whittle_, the one on the one side of a Ditch, and the other on the other side, and two pictures of Clay or Marle lying by them, and the third picture the said _Anne Whittle_ was making. And the said _Anne Redferne_, her said daughter, wrought her Clay or Marle to make the third picture withall. And this Examinate passing by them, a Spirit, called _Tibbe_, in the shape of a blacke Cat, appeared vnto her this Examinate and said, Turne backe againe, and doe as they doe. To whom this Examinate said, What are they doing? Whereunto the said Spirit said, They are making three pictures: whereupon shee asked, whose pictures they were? whereunto the said Spirit said, They are the pictures of _Christopher Nutter_, _Robert Nutter_, and _Mary_, wife of the said _Robert Nutter_. But this Examinate denying to goe backe to helpe them to make the pictures aforesaid, the said Spirit seeming to be angrie therefore, shot or pushed this Examinate into the Ditch; and so shedde the milke which this Examinate had in a Kanne, or Kitt; and so thereupon the Spirit at that time vanished out of this Examinates sight. But presently after that, the said Spirit appeared vnto this Examinate again in the shape of a Hare, and so went with her about a quarter of a myle, but said nothing vnto her this Examinate, nor shee to it. * * * * * _The Examination of_ MARGARET CROOKE Against _the said_ ANNE REDFERNE: _Taken the day and yeare aforesaid_, Before ROGER NOWEL _aforesaid, Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace in the Countie of Lancaster._ This Examinate, sworne & examined vpon her oath, sayth, That about eighteene or nineteene yeares agoe, this Examinates brother, called _Robert Nutter_, about Whitsontide the same yeare, meeting with the said _Anne Redferne_, vpon some speeches betweene them they fell out, as this Examinats said brother told this Examinat: and within some weeke, or fort-night, then next after, this Examinats said brother fell sicke, and so languished vntill about Candlemas then next after, and then died. In which time of his sicknesse, he did a hundred times at the least say, That the said _Anne Redferne_ and her associates had bewitched him to death. And this Examinate further saith, That this Examinates Father, called _Christopher Nutter_, about Maudlintide next after following fell sicke, and so languished, vntill Michaelmas then next after, and then died: during which time of his sicknesse, hee did sundry times say, That hee was bewitched; but named no bodie that should doe the same. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IOHN NVTTER, _of Higham Booth, in the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, yeoman_, Against _the said_ ANNE REDFERNE: _Taken the day and yeare aforesaid_, Before ROGER NOWEL _Esquire, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster._ This Examinate, sworne and examined vpon his oath, sayth, That in or about Christmas, some eighteene or nineteene yeares agoe, this Examinat comming from Burnley with _Christopher Nutter_ and _Robert Nutter_, this Examinates Father and Brother, this Examinate heard his said Brother then say vnto his said Father these words, or to this effect. _Father, I am sure I am bewitched by the_ Chattox, Anne Chattox, _and_ Anne Redferne _her daughter, I pray you cause them to bee layed in Lancaster Castle:_ Whereunto this Examinates Father answered, Thou art a foolish Ladde, it is not so, it is thy miscarriage. Then this Examinates Brother weeping, said; nay, I am sure that I am bewitched by them, and if euer I come againe (for hee was readie to goe to Sir _Richard Shuttleworths_, then his Master) I will procure them to bee laid where they shall be glad to bite Lice in two with their teeth. Hereupon _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, her Mother, was brought forth to bee examined, who confessed the making of the pictures of Clay, and in the end cried out very heartily to God to forgiue her sinnes, and vpon her knees intreated for this _Redferne_, her daughter. Here was likewise many witnesses examined vpon oth _Viua voce_, who charged her with many strange practises, and declared the death of the parties, all in such sort, and about the time in the Examinations formerly mentioned. All men that knew her affirmed, shee was more dangerous then her Mother, for shee made all or most of the Pictures of Clay, that were made or found at any time. Wherefore I leaue her to make good vse of the little time she hath to repent in: but no meanes could moue her to repentance, for as shee liued, so shee dyed. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE, _taken the day and yeare afore-said._ Before ROGER NOWEL, _and_ NICHOLAS BANNESTER, _Esquires: two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the said Countie of Lancaster._ viz. The said Examinate vpon his oath saith, That about two yeares agoe, hee this Examinate saw three Pictures of Clay, of halfe a yard long, at the end of _Redfernes_ house, which _Redferne_ had one of the Pictures in his hand, _Marie_ his daughter had another in her hand, and the said _Redfernes_ wife, [Sidenote: _Anne Redferne the Witch._] now prisoner at Lancaster, had an other Picture in her hand, which Picture she the said _Redfernes_ wife, was then crumbling, but whose Pictures they were, this Examinate cannot tell. And at his returning backe againe, some ten Roods off them there appeared vnto him this Examinate a thing like a Hare, which spit fire at him this Examinate. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ ALICE NUTTER, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, for Witch-craft; upon Wednesday the nineteenth of August, at the Assizes and generall Gaole deliuerie, holden at Lancaster._ Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assize at Lancaster._ _Alice Nutter._[O3_a_] The two degrees of persons which chiefly practise Witch-craft, are such, as are in great miserie and pouertie, for such the Deuill allures to follow him, by promising great riches, and worldly commoditie; Others, though rich, yet burne in a desperate desire of Reuenge; Hee allures them by promises, to get their turne satisfied to their hearts contentment, as in the whole proceedings against old _Chattox_: the examinations of old _Dembdike_; and her children, there was not one of them, but have declared the like, when the Deuill first assaulted them. But to attempt this woman in that sort, the Diuel had small meanes: For it is certaine she was a rich woman; had a great estate, and children of good hope: in the common opinion of the world, of good temper, free from enuy or malice; yet whether by the meanes of the rest of the Witches, or some vnfortunate occasion, shee was drawne to fall to this wicked course of life, I know not: but hither shee is now come to receiue her Triall, both for Murder, and many other vilde and damnable practises. Great was the care and paines of his Lordship, to make triall of the Innocencie of this woman, as shall appeare vnto you vpon the Examination of _Iennet Deuice_, in open Court, at the time of her Arraignement and Triall; by an extraordinary meanes of Triall, to marke her out from the rest. It is very certaine she was of the Grand-counsell at Malking-Tower vpon Good-Friday, and was there present, which was a very great argument to condemne her. This _Alice Nutter_, Prisoner in the Castle at Lancaster: Being brought to the Barre before the Great Seat of Iustice; was there according to the former order and course Indicted and Arraigned, for that she felloniously had practised, exercised, and vsed her diuellish and wicked Arts, called _Witchcrafts_, _Inchantments_, _Charmes_ and _Sorceries_, in and vpon _Henry Mitton_: and him the said _Henry Mitton_, by force of the same Witchcrafts, felloniously did kill and murther. _Contra formam Statuti_, &c. _Et Contra Pacem_, &c. Vpon her Arraignement, to this Indictment shee pleaded not guiltie; and for the triall of her life, put her selfe vpon God and the Countrey. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iury of life and death stand charged with her, as with others. _The Euidence against_ Alice Nutter _Prisoner at the Barre._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE _sonne of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE: _Taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill_: Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI Angliæ, Franciæ, & Hiberniæ, Fidei Defensor. &c. Decimo & Scotiæ, xlvj. Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster. Against Alice Nutter._ The said Examinate saith vpon his oath, That hee heard his Grand-mother say, about a yeare ago, that his mother, called _Elizabeth Deuice_, and his Grand-mother, and the wife of _Richard Nutter_, [Sidenote: _Alice Nutter_ the Prisoner.] of the Rough-Lee aforesaid, had killed one _Henry Mitton_, of the Rough-Lee aforesaid, by Witchcraft. The reason wherefore he was so killed, was for that this Examinats said Grand-mother had asked the said _Mitton_ a penny: and hee denying her thereof; thereupon shee procured his death as aforesaid. * * * * * _The Examination of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _mother of the said_ IAMES DEVICE. Against ALICE NVTTER, _wife of_ RICHARD NVTTER, _Prisoner at the Barre, vpon her Arraignement and Triall._ Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _Esquires, the day and yeare aforesaid._ This Examinate vpon her oath confesseth, and saith, That she, with the wife of _Richard Nutter_, called _Alice Nutter_, Prisoner at the Barre; and this Examinates said mother, _Elizabeth Sotherne_, alias _Old Demdike_; ioyned altogether, and bewitched the said _Henry Mitton_ to death. This Examinate further saith, That vpon Good-friday last, there dined at this examinats house two women of Burneley Parish, whose names the said _Richard Nutters_ wife, _Alice Nutter_, now Prisoner at the Barre, doth know. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE _aforesaid._ Against _The said_ ALICE NVTTER, _the daye and yeare aforesaid._ The said Examinate vpon his oath saith, That vpon Good-Friday about twelue of the clocke in the day time, there dined in this Examinats said mothers house, a number of persons, whereof three were men, with this Examinate, and the rest women: and that they mette there for these three causes following, as this Examinats said mother told this Examinate. The first was for the naming of the Spirit, which _Alizon Deuice_, now Prisoner at Lancaster, had, but did not name him, because she was not there. The second cause was, for the deliuerie of his said Grand-mother; this Examinates said sister, _Alizon_; the said _Anne Chattox_, and her daughter _Redferne_; killing the Gaoler at Lancaster, and before the next Assizes to blow vp the Castle there; to the end that the foresaid Prisoners might by that meanes make an escape, and get away: all which this Examinate then heard them conferre of. And he also saith, The names of such Witches as were on Good-Friday at this Examinats said Grand-mothers house, and now this Examinates owne mothers, for so many of them as he doth know, were amongst others, _Alice Nutter_, mother of _Myles Nutter_, now Prisoner at the Barre. And this Examinate further saith, That all the said Witches went out of the said house in their owne shapes and likenesses; and they all, by that time they were forth of the doores, were gotten on horse-backe, like vnto Foales, some of one colour, and some of another; and _Prestons_ wife was the last: and when shee got on horse-back, they all presently vanished out of this Examinates sight: and before their said parting away, they all appointed to meete at the said _Prestons_ wifes house that day twelue month, at which time the said _Prestons_ wife promised to make them a great feast: and if they had occasion to meete in the meane time, then should warning be giuen to meet up[=o] Romleys Moore. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE, _daughter of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE. Against ALICE NVTTER, _Prisoner at the Barre._ The said Examinate saith, That on Good-Friday last, there was about 20. persons, whereof only two were men (to this Examinates remembrance) at her said Grand-mothers house at Malking-Tower, about twelue of the clock; all which persons, this Examinats said mother tould her, were Witches. And she further saith, she knoweth the names of six of them, _viz._ the wife of _Hugh Hargreiues_ vnder Pendle, _Christopher Howgate_ of Pendle, Vncle to this Examinat and _Elizabeth_ his wife; and _Dick Myles_ wife of the Rough-Lee, _Christopher Iacks_ of Thorniholme, and his wife; and the names of the residue, she this Examinate doth not know. After these Examinations were openly read, his Lordship being very suspitious of the accusation of this yong wench _Iennet Deuice_, commanded one to take her away into the vpper Hall, intending in the meane time to make Triall of her Euidence, and the Accusation especially against this woman, who is charged to haue beene at Malking-Tower, at this great meeting. Master _Couel_ was commanded to set all his prisoners by themselues, and betwixt euery Witch another Prisoner, and some other strange women amongst them, so as no man could iudge the one from the other: and these being set in order before the Court from the prisoners, then was the Wench _Iennet Deuice_ commaunded to be brought into the Court: and being set before my Lord, he tooke great paines to examine her of euery particular Point, What women were at Malking-Tower vpon Good-Friday? How she knew them? What were the names of any of them? And how she knew them to be such as she named? In the end being examined by my Lord,[P2_a_1] Whether she knew them that were there by their faces, if she saw them? she told my Lord she should: whereupon in the presence of this great Audience, in open Court, she went and tooke _Alice Nutter_, this prisoner, by the hand, and accused her to be one: and told her in what place shee sat at the Feast at Malking-Tower, at the great assembly of the Witches, and who sat next her: what conference they had, and all the rest of their proceedings at large, without any manner of contrarietie. Being demaunded further by his Lordship, Whether she knew _Iohan a Style_?[P2_a_2] she alledged, she knew no such wom[=a] to be there, neither did she euer heare her name. This could be no forged or false Accusation, but the very Act of GOD to discouer her. Thus was no meanes left to doe her all indifferent fauour, but it was vsed to saue her life; and to this shee could giue no answere. But nothing would serue: for old _Dembdike_, old _Chattox_, and others, had charged her with innocent bloud, which cries out for Reuenge, and will be satisfied. And therefore Almightie GOD, in his Iustice, hath cut her off. And here I leaue her, vntill shee come to her Execution, where you shall heare shee died very impenitent; insomuch as her owne children were neuer able to moue her to confesse any particular offence, or declare any thing, euen in _Articulo Mortis_: which was a very fearefull thing to all that were present, who knew shee was guiltie. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ KATHERINE HEWIT, _Wife of_ IOHN HEWIT, _alias_ MOVLD-HEELES,[P3_a_] _of Coulne, in the Countie of Lancaster Clothier, for Witchcraft; vpon Wednesday the nineteenth of August, at the Assises and Generall Gaole-deliuerie, holden at Lancaster_, Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assise at Lancaster._ _Katherine Hewit._ Who but Witches can be proofes, and so witnesses of the doings of Witches? since all their Meetings, Conspiracies, Practises, and Murthers, are the workes of Darkenesse: But to discouer this wicked _Furie_, GOD hath not only raised meanes beyond expectation, by the voluntarie Confession and Accusation of all that are gone before, to accuse this Witch (being Witches, and thereby witnesses of her doings) but after they were committed, by meanes of a Child, to discouer her to be one, and a Principall in that wicked assembly at Malking-Tower, to deuise such a damnable course for the deliuerance of their friends at Lancaster, as to kill the Gaoler, and blow vp the Castle, wherein the Deuill did but labour to assemble them together, and so being knowne to send them all one way: And herein I shall commend vnto your good consideration the wonderfull meanes to condemne these parties, that liued in the world, free from suspition of any such offences, as are proued against them: And thereby the more dangerous, that in the successe we may lawfully say, the very Finger of God did point th[=e] out. And she that neuer saw them, but in that meeting, did accuse them, and by their faces discouer them. This _Katherine Hewyt_, Prisoner in the Castle at Lancaster, being brought to the Barre before the great Seate of Iustice, was there according to the former order and course Indicted and Arraigned, for that she felloniously had practized, exercised, and vsed her Deuillish and wicked Arts, called _Witch-crafts_, _Inchantments_, _Charmes_, and _Sorceries_, in, and vpon _Anne Foulds_; and the same _Anne Foulds_, by force of the same witch-craft, felloniously did kill and murder. _Contra formam Statuti, &c. Et contra Pacem dicti Domini Regis, &c._ Vpon her Arraignement to this Indictment, shee pleaded not guiltie; And for the triall of her life put her selfe vpon God and her Countrie. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iurie of life and death, stand charged with her as with others. _The Euidence against_ Katherine Hewyt, _Prisoner at the Barre._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE, _Sonne of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill_, Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI, Angliæ, Franciæ, & Hiberniæ, decimo, et Scotiæ quadragesimo quarto. Before ROGER NOWEL, _and_ NICHOLAS BANNESTER, _Esquires; two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace, in the Countie of Lancaster._ Against KATHERINE HEWYT, _alias_ MOVLD-HEELES _of Colne._ viz. This Examinate saith, that vpon Good-Friday last, about twelue of the Clock in the day time, there dined at this Examinates Mothers house a number of persons: And hee also saith, that they were Witches; and that the names of the said Witches, that were there, for so many of them as he did know, were amongst others _Katherine Hewyt_, wife of _Iohn Hewyt_, alias _Mould-heeles_, of Colne, in the Countie of Lancaster Clothier; And that the said Witch, called _Katherine Hewyt_, alias _Mould-heeles_, and one _Alice Gray_, did confesse amongst the said Witches at their meeting at _Malkin-Tower_ aforesaid, that they had killed _Foulds_ wifes child, called _Anne Foulds_, of Colne:[P4_a_1] And also said, that they had then in hanck a child[P4_a_2] of _Michael Hartleys_ of Colne. And this Examinate further saith, that all the said Witches went out of the said house in their own shapes and likenesses, and by that time they were gotten forth of the doores, they were gotten on Horse-back like vnto foales, some of one colour, some of an other, and the said _Prestons_ wife was the last: And when she got on Horse-back, they all presently vanished out of this Examinates sight. And before their said parting away they all appointed to meete at the said _Prestons_ wifes house that day twelue Moneths: at which time the said _Prestons_ wife promised to make them a great feast, and if they had occasion to meete in the meane time, then should warning be giuen that they all should meet vpon Romlesmoore. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _Mother of the said_ IAMES DEVICE. Against KATHERINE HEWYT, _alias_ MOVLD-HEELES, _Prisoner at the Barre vpon her Arraignement and Triall, taken the day and yeare aforesaid._ viz. This Examinate vpon her oath confesseth, that vpon Good-Friday last there dyned at this Examinates house, which she hath said are Witches, and verily thinketh to bee Witches, such as the said _Iames Deuice_ hath formerly spoken of: amongst which was _Katherine Hewyt_, alias _Mould-heeles_, now Prisoner at the Barre: and shee also saith, that at their meeting on Good-Friday at _Malkin-Tower_ aforesaid, the said _Katherine Hewyt_, alias _Mould-heeles_, and _Anne Gray_, did confesse, they had killed a child of _Foulds_ of Colne, called _Anne Foulds_, and had gotten hold of another. And shee further saith, the said _Katherine Hewyt_ with all the rest, there gaue her consent with the said _Prestons_ wife for the murder of Master _Lister_. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE, Against KATHERINE HEWYT, _alias_ MOVLD-HEELES, _Prisoner at the Barre._ The said Examinate saith, That vpon Good-Friday last, there was about twentie persons, whereof two were men to this Examinates remembrance, at her said Grand-mothers house, called _Malkin-Tower_ aforesaid, about twelue of the clock: All which persons this Examinates said mother told her were Witches, and that shee knoweth the names of sixe of the said Witches. Then was the said _Iennet Deuice_ commanded by his Lordship, to finde and point out the said _Katherine Hewyt_, alias _Mould-heeles_, amongst all the rest of the said Women, whereupon shee went and tooke the said _Katherine Hewyt_ by the hand: Accused her to bee one, and told her in what place shee sate at the feast at _Malkin-Tower_, at the great Assembly of the Witches, and who sate next her; what conference they had, and all the rest of their proceedings at large, without any manner of contrarietie: Being demanded further by his Lordship, whether _Ioane a Downe_ were at that Feast, and meeting, or no? shee alleaged shee knew no such woman to be there, neither did shee euer heare her name. If this were not an Honorable meanes to trie the accusation against them, let all the World vpon due examination giue iudgement of it. And here I leaue her the last of this companie, to the Verdict of the Gentlemen of the Iurie of life and death, as hereafter shall appeare. Heere the Iurie of Life and Death, hauing spent the most part of the day, in due consideration of their offences, Returned into the Court to deliuer vp their Verdict against them, as followeth. _The Verdict of Life and Death._ Who vpon their Oathes found _Iennet Bierley_, _Ellen Bierley_, and _Iane Southworth_, not guiltie of the offence of Witch-craft, conteyned in the Indictment against them. _Anne Redferne_, guiltie of the fellonie & murder, conteyned in the Indictment against her. _Alice Nutter_, guiltie of the fellonie and murder conteyned in the Indictment against her. And _Katherine Hewyt_, guiltie of the fellonie & murder conteyned in the Indictment against her. Whereupon Master _Couell_ was commanded by the Court to take away the Prisoners Conuicted, and to bring forth _Iohn Bulcocke_, _Iane Bulcocke_ his mother,[Q2_a_] and _Alizon Deuice_, Prisoners in the Castle at Lancaster, to receiue their Trialls. Who were brought to their Arraignement and Triall as hereafter followeth. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ IOHN BVLCOCK, _and_ IANE BVLCOCK _his mother, wife of_ CHRISTOPHER BVLCOCK, _of the Mosse-end, in the Countie of Lancaster, for Witch-craft: vpon Wednesday in the after-noone, the nineteenth of August, 1612. At the Assizes and generall Gaole deliuery, holden at Lancaster._ Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY, _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assizes at Lancaster._ _John Bulcock_, and _Jane Bulcock_ his mother. If there were nothing to charge these Prisoners withall, whom now you may behold vpon their Arraignement and Triall but their poasting in haste to the great Assembly at Malking-Tower, there to aduise and consult amongst the Witches, what were to bee done to set at liberty the Witches in the Castle at Lancaster: Ioyne with _Iennet Preston_ for the murder of Master _Lister_; and such like wicked & diuellish practises: It were sufficient to accuse them for Witches, & to bring their liues to a lawfull Triall. But amongst all the Witches in this company, there is not a more fearefull and diuellish Act committed, and voluntarily confessed by any of them, comparable to this, vnder the degree of Murder: which impudently now (at the Barre hauing formerly confessed;)[Q3_a_1] they forsweare, swearing they were neuer at the great assembly at Malking Tower; although the very Witches that were present in that action with them, iustifie, maintaine, and sweare the same to be true against them: Crying out in very violent & outragious manner, euen to the gallowes,[Q3_a_2] where they died impenitent for any thing we know, because they died silent in the particulars. These of all others were the most desperate wretches (void of all feare or grace) in all this Packe; Their offences not much inferiour to Murther: for which you shall heare what matter of Record wee haue against them; and whether they be worthie to continue, we leaue it to the good consideration of the Iury. The said _Iohn Bulcock_, and _Iane Bulcock_ his mother, Prisoners in the Castle at Lancaster, being brought to the Barre before the great Seat of Iustice: were there according to the former order and course Indicted and Arraigned, for that they felloniously had practised, exercised and vfed their diuellish & wicked Arts, called _Witchcrafts_, _Inchantments_, _Charmes_ and _Sorceries_, in and vpon the body of _Iennet Deane_: so as the body of the said _Iennet Deane_, by force of the said Witchcrafts, wasted and consumed; and after she, the said _Iennet_, became madde. _Contra formam Statuti_, &c. _Et Contra pacem_, &c. Vpon their Arraignement, to this Indictment they pleaded not guiltie; and for the triall of their liues put themselues vpon God and their Countrey. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iurie of Life and Death stand charged with them as with others. _The Euidence against_ Iohn Bulcock, _and_ Jane Bulcock _his mother, Prisoners at the Barre._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE _taken the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill aforesaid._ Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster._ Against IOHN BVLCOCK _and_ IANE BVLCOCK _his mother._ This Examinate saith, That vpon Good-Friday, about twelue of the clocke in the day time, there dined in this Examinates said Mothers house a number of persons, whereof three were men with this Examinate, and the rest women, and that they met there for these three causes following, as this Examinates said mother told this Examinate. The first was, for the naming of the Spirit which _Allison Deuice_, now prisoner at Lancaster had, but did not name him, because shee was not there. The second cause was, for the deliuerie of his said Grand-mother; this Examinates said sister _Allison_; the said _Anne Chattox_, and her daughter _Redferne_, killing the Gaoler at Lancaster, and before the next Assises to blow vp the Castle there, to that end the aforesaid prisoners might by that meanes make an escape, and get away: All which this Examinate then heard them conferre of. And he also sayth, That the names of such said Witches as were on Good-Friday at this Examinates said Grand-mothers house, and now this Examinates owne mothers, for so many of them as hee did know, were these, _viz._ _Iane Bulcock_, wife of _Christopher Bulcock_, of the Mosse end, and _Iohn_ her sonne amongst others, &c. And this Examinate further saith, That all the said Witches went out of the said house in their own shapes and likenesses: and they all, by that they were forth of the dores, were gotten on horse-backe, like vnto Foales, some of one colour, and some of another, and _Prestons_ wife was the last: and when shee got on horse-backe, they all presently vanished out of this Examinates sight. And further he saith, That the said _Iohn Bulcock_ and _Iane_ his said Mother, did confesse vpon Good-Friday last at the said Malking-Tower, in the hearing of this Examinate, That they had bewitched, at the new-field Edge in Yorkeshire, a woman called _Iennet_, wife of _Iohn Deyne_, besides, her reason; and the said Womans name so bewitched, he did not heare them speake of. And this Examinate further saith, That at the said Feast at Malking-Tower this Examinate heard them all giue their consents to put the said Master _Thomas Lister_ of Westby[Q4_a_] to death. And after Master _Lister_ should be made away by Witch-craft, then all the said Witches gaue their consents to ioyne all together, to hanck Master _Leonard Lister_, when he should come to dwell at the Cow-gill, and so put him to death. * * * * * _The Examination of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _Taken the day and yeare aforesaid_, Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster._ Against IOHN BVLCOCK, _and_ IANE BVLCOCK, _his mother._ This Examinate saith vpon her oath, That she doth verily thinke, that the said _Bulcockes_ wife doth know of some Witches to bee about Padyham and Burnley.[Q4_b_] And shee further saith, That at the said meeting at Malking-Tower, as aforesaid, _Katherine Hewyt_ and _Iohn Bulcock_, with all the rest then there, gaue their consents, with the said _Prestons_ wife, for the killing of the said Master _Lister_. * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IENNET DEVICE Against IOHN BVLCOCKE _and_ IANE _his mother, prisoners at the Barre._ The said Examinate saith, That vpon Good-Friday last there was about twentie persons, whereof two were men, to this Examinates remembrance, at her said Grand-mothers house, called Malking-Tower aforesaid: all which persons, this Examinates said mother told her were Witches, and that she knoweth the names of sixe of the said Witches. Then was the said _Iennet Deuice_ commaunded by his Lordship to finde and point out the said _Iohn Bulcock_ and _Iane Bulcock_ amongst all the rest; whereupon shee went and tooke _Iane Bulcock_ by the hand, accused her to be one, and told her in what place shee sat at the Feast at Malking-Tower, at the great Assembly of the Witches; and who sat next her: and accused the said _Iohn Bulcock_ to turne the Spitt there;[R_a_] what conference they had, and all the rest of their proceedings at large, without any manner of contrarietie. Shee further told his Lordship, there was a woman that came out of Craven to that Great Feast at Malking-Tower, but shee could not finde her out amongst all those women. * * * * * ¶ The names of the Witches at the _Great Assembly and Feast at_ Malking-Tower, _viz._ vpon Good-Friday last, 1612.[R1_b_] _Elizabeth Deuice._ _Alice Nutter._ _Katherine Hewit_, alias _Mould-heeles._ _John Bulcock._ _Jane Bulcock._ _Alice Graie._ _Jennet Hargraues._ _Elizabeth Hargraues._ _Christopher Howgate._ Sonne to old _Dembdike_. _Christopher Hargraues._ _Grace Hay_, of Padiham. _Anne Crunckshey_, of Marchden. _Elizabeth Howgate._ _Jennet Preston_, Executed at Yorke for the Murder of Master _Lister_, With many more, which being bound ouer to appeare at the last Assizes, are since that time fled to saue themselues. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ ALIZON DEVICE, _Daughter of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _within the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster aforesaid, for Witch-craft._ _Alizon Deuice._ Behold, aboue all the rest, this lamentable spectacle of a poore distressed Pedler, how miserably hee was tormented, and what punishment hee endured for a small offence, by the wicked and damnable practise of this odious Witch, first instructed therein by old _Dembdike_ her Grand-mother, of whose life and death with her good conditions, I haue written at large before in the beginning of this worke, out of her owne Examinations and other Records, now remayning with the Clarke of the Crowne at Lancaster: And by her Mother brought vp in this detestable course of life; wherein I pray you obserue but the manner and course of it in order, euen to the last period at her Execution, for this horrible fact, able to terrifie and astonish any man liuing. This _Alizon Deuice_, Prisoner in the Castle of Lancaster, being brought to the Barre before the great Seat of Iustice, was there according to the former order and course indicted and arraigned, for that shee felloniously had practised, exercised, and vsed her Deuillish and wicked Arts, called _Witch-crafts_, _Inchantments_, _Charmes_, and _Sorceries_, in, and vpon one _Iohn Law_, a Petti-chapman, and him had lamed; so that his bodie wasted and consumed, &c. _Contra formam Statuti, &c. Et contra pacem dicti Domini Regis, Coronam & Dignitatem, &c._ Vpon the Arraignement, The poore Pedler, by name _Iohn Law_, being in the Castle about the Moot-hall, attending to be called, not well able to goe or stand, being led thether by his poore sonne _Abraham Law_: My Lord _Gerrard_[R3_a_] moued the Court to call the poore Pedler, who was there readie, and had attended all the Assizes, to giue euidence for the Kings Majestie against the said _Alizon Deuice_, Prisoner at the Barre, euen now vpon her Triall. The Prisoner being at the Barre, & now beholding the Pedler, deformed by her Witch-craft, and transformed beyond the course of Nature, appeared to giue euidence against her; hauing not yet pleaded to her Indictment, saw it was in vaine to denie it, or stand vpon her justification: Shee humbly vpon her knees at the Barre with weeping teares, prayed the Court to heare her. Whereupon my Lord _Bromley_ commanded shee should bee brought out from the Prisoners neare vnto the Court, and there on her knees, shee humbly asked forgiuenesse for her offence: And being required to make an open declaration or confession of her offence: Shee confessed as followeth. _viz._ * * * * * _The Confession of_ ALIZON DEVICE, _Prisoner at the Barre: published and declared at time of her Arraignement and Triall in open Court._ She saith, That about two yeares agone, her Grand-mother, called _Elizabeth Sothernes_, alias _Dembdike_, did (sundry times in going or walking together, as they went begging) perswade and aduise this Examinate to let a Diuell or a Familiar appeare to her, and that shee, this Examinate would let him suck at some part of her; and she might haue and doe what shee would. And so not long after these perswasions, this Examinate being walking towards the Rough-Lee, in a Close of one _Iohn Robinsons_, there appeared vnto her a thing like vnto a Blacke Dogge: speaking vnto her, this Examinate, and desiring her to giue him her Soule, and he would giue her power to doe any thing shee would: whereupon this Examinate being therewithall inticed, and setting her downe; the said Blacke-Dogge did with his mouth (as this Examinate then thought) sucke at her breast, a little below her Paps, which place did remain blew halfe a yeare next after: which said Blacke-Dogge did not appeare to this Examinate, vntill the eighteenth day of March last: at which time this Examinate met with a Pedler on the high-way, called Colne-field, neere vnto Colne: and this Examinate demanded of the said Pedler to buy some pinnes of him; but the said Pedler sturdily answered this Examinate that he would not loose his Packe; and so this Examinate parting with him: presently there appeared to this Examinate the Blacke-Dogge, which appeared vnto her as before: which Black Dogge spake vnto this Examinate in English, saying; What wouldst thou haue me to do vnto yonder man? to whom this Examinate said, What canst thou do at him? and the Dogge answered againe, I can lame him: whereupon this Examinat answered, and said to the said Black Dogge, Lame him: and before the Pedler was gone fortie Roddes further, he fell downe Lame: and this Examinate then went after the said Pedler; and in a house about the distance aforesaid, he was lying Lame: and so this Examinate went begging in Trawden Forrest that day, and came home at night: and about fiue daies next after, the said Black-Dogge did appeare to this Examinate, as she was going a begging, in a Cloase neere the New-Church in Pendle, and spake againe to her, saying; Stay and speake with me; but this Examinate would not: Sithence which time this Examinat neuer saw him. _Which agreeth_ verbatim _with her owne Examination taken at_ Reade, _in the Countie of Lancaster, the thirtieth day of March, before Master_ Nowel, _when she was apprehended and taken._ My Lord _Bromley_, and all the whole Court not a little wondering, as they had good cause, at this liberall and voluntarie confession of the Witch; which is not ordinary with people of their condition and qualitie: and beholding also the poore distressed Pedler, standing by, commanded him vpon his oath to declare the manner how, and in what sort he was handled; how he came to be lame, and so to be deformed; who deposed vpon his oath, as followeth. * * * * * _The Euidence of_ IOHN LAW, _Pettie Chapman, vpon his Oath:_ Against ALIZON DEVICE, _Prisoner at the Barre._ He deposeth and saith, That about the eighteenth of March last past, hee being a Pedler, went with his Packe of wares at his backe thorow Colne-field: where vnluckily he met with _Alizon Deuice_, now Prisoner at the Barre, who was very earnest with him for pinnes, but he would giue her none: whereupon she seemed to be very angry; and when hee was past her, hee fell downe lame in great extremitie; and afterwards by meanes got into an Ale-house in Colne, neere vnto the place where hee was first bewitched: and as hee lay there in great paine, not able to stirre either hand or foote; he saw a great Black-Dogge stand by him, with very fearefull firie eyes, great teeth, and a terrible countenance, looking him in the face; whereat he was very sore afraid: and immediately after came in the said _Alizon Deuice_, who staid not long there, but looked on him, and went away. After which time hee was tormented both day and night with the said _Alizon Deuice_; and so continued lame, not able to trauell or take paines euer since that time: which with weeping teares in great passion turned to the Prisoner; in the hearing of all the Court hee said to her, _This thou knowest to be too true_: and thereupon she humblie acknowledged the same, and cried out to God to forgiue her; and vpon her knees with weeping teares, humbly prayed him to forgiue her that wicked offence; which he very freely and voluntarily did. Hereupon Master _Nowel_ standing vp, humbly prayed the fauour of the Court, in respect this Fact of Witchcraft was more eminent and apparant than the rest, that for the better satisfaction of the Audience, the Examination of _Abraham Law_ might be read in Court. * * * * * _The Examination of_ ABRAHAM LAW, _of Hallifax, in the Countie of Yorke, Cloth-dier, taken vpon oath the thirtieth day of March, 1612._ Before ROGER NOWEL, _Esquire, aforesaid._ Being sworne and examined, saith, That vpon Saturday last saue one, being the one and twentieth day of this instant March, he, this Examinate was sent for, by a letter that came from his father, that he should come to his father, _Iohn Law_, who then lay in Colne speechlesse, and had the left-side lamed all saue his eye: and when this Examinate came to his father, his said father had something recouered his speech, and did complaine that hee was pricked with Kniues, Elsons and Sickles,[S_a_] and that the same hurt was done vnto him at Colne-field, presently after that _Alizon Deuice_ had offered to buy some pinnes of him, and she had no money to pay for them withall; but as this Examinates father told this Examinate, he gaue her some pinnes. And this Examinate further saith, That he heard his said father say, that the hurt he had in his lamenesse was done vnto him by the said _Alizon Deuice_, by Witchcraft. And this Examinate further saith, that hee heard his said Father further say, that the said _Alizon Deuice_ did lie vpon him and trouble him. And this Examinate seeing his said Father so tormented with the said _Alizon_ and with one other olde woman, whome this Examinates Father did not know as it seemed: This Examinate made search after the said _Alizon_, and hauing found her, brought her to his said Father yesterday being the nine and twenteth of this instant March: whose said Father in the hearing of this Examinate and diuers others did charge the said _Alizon_ to haue bewitched him, which the said _Alizon_ confessing[S_b_] did aske this Examinates said Father forgiuenesse vpon her knees for the same; whereupon this Examinates Father accordingly did forgiue her. Which Examination in open Court vpon his oath hee iustified to be true. Whereupon it was there affirmed to the Court that this _Iohn Law_ the Pedler, before his vnfortunate meeting with this Witch, was a verie able sufficient stout man of Bodie, and a goodly man of Stature. But by this Deuillish art of _Witch-craft_ his head is drawne awrie, his Eyes and face deformed, His speech not well to bee vnderstood; his Thighes and Legges starcke lame: his Armes lame especially the left side, his handes lame and turned out of their course, his Bodie able to indure no trauell: and thus remaineth at this present time. The Prisoner being examined by the Court whether shee could helpe the poore Pedler to his former strength and health, she answered she could not, and so did many of the rest of the Witches: But shee, with others, affirmed, That if old _Dembdike_ had liued, shee could and would haue helped him out of that great miserie, which so long he hath endured for so small an offence, as you haue heard. These things being thus openly published against her, and she knowing her selfe to be guiltie of euery particular, humbly acknowledged the Indictment against her to be true, and that she was guiltie of the offence therein contained, and that she had iustly deserued death for that and many other such like: whereupon she was carried away, vntill she should come to the Barre to receiue her judgement of death. Oh, who was present at this lamentable spectacle, that was not moued with pitie to behold it! Hereupon my Lord _Gerard_, Sir _Richard Houghton_, and others, who much pitied the poore Pedler, At the entreatie of my Lord _Bromley_ the Iudge, promised some present course should be taken for his reliefe and maintenance; being now discharged and sent away. But here I may not let her passe; for that I find some thing more vpon Record to charge her withall: for although she were but a young Witch, of a yeares standing, and thereunto induced by _Dembdike_ her Grand-mother, as you haue formerly heard, yet she was spotted with innocent bloud among the rest: for in one part of the Examination of _Iames Deuice_, her brother, he deposeth as followeth, _viz._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ IAMES DEVICE, _brother to the said_ ALIZON DEVICE: _Taken vpon Oath_ Before ROGER NOWEL _Esquire, aforesaid, the thirtieth day of March, 1612._ _Iames Deuice_, of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, Labourer, sworne and examined, sayth, That about _Saint Peters_ day last one _Henry Bulcock_ came to the house of _Elizabeth Sothernes_, alias _Dembdike_, Grand-mother to this Examinate, and said, That the said _Alizon Deuice_ had bewitched a Child of his, and desired her, that shee would goe with him to his house: which accordingly shee did: and thereupon shee the said _Alizon_ fell downe on her knees, and asked the said _Bulcock_ forgiuenesse; and confessed to him, that she had bewitched the said Child, as this Examinate heard his said sister confesse vnto him this Examinate. And although shee were neuer indicted for this offence, yet being matter vpon Record, I thought it conuenient to joyne it vnto her former Fact. Here the Iurie of Life and Death hauing spent the most part of the day in due consideration of their offences, returned into the Court to deliuer up their Verdict against them, as followeth. * * * * * _The Verdict of Life and Death._ Who vpon their Oathes found _Iohn Bulcock_ and _Iane Bulcock_ his mother, not guiltie of the Felonie by Witch-craft, contained in the Indictment against them. _Alizon Deuice_ conuicted vpon her owne Confession. Whereupon Master _Couel_ was commaunded by the Court to take away the Prisoners conuicted, and to bring forth _Margaret Pearson_,[S3_b_] and _Isabell Robey_, Prisoners in the Castle at Lancaster, to receiue their Triall. Who were brought to their Arraignement and Trialls, as hereafter followeth, _viz._ [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ MARGARET PEARSON _of Paddiham, in the Countie of Lancaster, for Witchcraft; the nineteenth of August, 1612. at the Assises and Generall Gaole-deliuerie, holden at Lancaster_, Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assise at Lancaster._ _Margaret Pearson._ Thus farre haue I proceeded in hope your patience will endure the end of this discourse, which craues time, and were better not begunne at all, then not perfected. This _Margaret Pearson_ was the wife of _Edward Pearson_ of Paddiham, in the Countie of Lancaster; little inferiour in her wicked and malicious course of life to any that hath gone before her: A very dangerous Witch of long continuance, generally suspected and feared in all parts of the Countrie, and of all good people neare her, and not without great cause: For whosoeuer gaue her any iust occasion of offence, shee tormented with great miserie, or cut off their children, goods, or friends. This wicked and vngodly Witch reuenged her furie vpon goods, so that euery one neare her sustained great losse. I place her in the end of these notorious Witches, by reason her iudgement is of an other Nature, according to her offence; yet had not the fauour and mercie of the Iurie beene more than her desert, you had found her next to old _Dembdike_; for this is the third time shee is come to receiue her Triall; one time for murder by Witch-craft; an other time for bewitching a Neighbour; now for goods. How long shee hath been a Witch, the Deuill and shee knows best. The Accusations, Depositions, and particular Examinations vpon Record against her are infinite, and were able to fill a large Volume; But since shee is now only to receiue her Triall for this last offence. I shall proceede against her in order, and set forth what matter we haue vpon Record, to charge her withall. This _Margaret Pearson_, Prisoner in the Castle at Lancaster: Being brought to the Barre before the great Seat of Iustice; was there according to the course and order of the Law Indicted and Arraigned, for that shee had practised, exercised, and vsed her diuellish and wicked Arts, called _Witchcrafts_, _Inchantments_, _Charmes_ and _Sorceries_, and one Mare of the goods and Chattels of one _Dodgeson_ of Padiham, in the Countie of Lancaster, wickedly, maliciously, and voluntarily did kill. _Contra formam Statuti, &c. Et Contra pacem dicti Domini Regis. &c._ Vpon her Arraignement to this Indictment, shee pleaded not guiltie; And for the triall of her offence put her selfe vpon God and her Countrie. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iurie of her offence and death, stand charged with her as with others. _The Euidence against_ Margaret Pearson, _Prisoner at the Barre._ * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ ANNE WHITTLE, _alias_ CHATTOX. Against MARGARET PEARSON, _Prisoner at the Barre._ The said _Anne Chattox_ being examined saith, That the wife of one _Pearson_ of Paddiham, is a very euill Woman, and confessed to this Examinate, that shee is a Witch, and hath a Spirit which came to her the first time in likenesse of a Man, and clouen footed, and that shee the said _Pearsons_ wife hath done very much harme to one _Dodgesons_ goods, who came in at a loope-hole into the said _Dodgesons_ Stable, and shee and her Spirit together did sit vpon his Horse or Mare, vntill the said Horse or Mare died. And likewise, that shee the said _Pearsons_ wife did confesse vnto her this Examinate, that shee bewitched vnto death one _Childers_ wife, and her Daughter, and that shee the said _Pearsons_ wife is as ill as shee. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IENNET BOOTH, _of Paddiham, in the Countie of Lancaster, the ninth day of August 1612._ Before NICHOLAS BANNESTER, _Esquire; one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster._ _Iennet_, the wife of _Iames Booth_, of Paddiham, vpon her oath saith, That the Friday next after, the said _Pearsons_ wife, was committed to the Gaole at Lancaster, this Examinate was carding in the said _Pearsons_ house, hauing a little child with her, and willed the said _Margerie_ to giue her a little Milke, to make her said child a little meat, who fetcht this Examinate some, and put it in a pan; this examinat meaning to set it on the fire, found the said fire very ill, and taking vp a stick that lay by her, and brake it in three or foure peeces, and laid vpon the coales to kindle the same, then set the pan and milke on the fire: and when the milke was boild to this Examinates content, she tooke the pan wherein the milke was, off the said fire, and with all, vnder the bottome of the same, there came a Toade, or a thing very like a Toade, and to this Examinates thinking came out of the fire, together with the said Pan, and vnder the bottome of the same, and that the said _Margerie_ did carrie the said Toade out of the said house in a paire of tonges;[T_a_] But what shee the said _Margerie_ did therewith, this Examinate knoweth not. After this were diuers witnesses examined against her in open Court, _viua voce_, to proue the death of the Mare, and diuers other vild and odious practises by her committed, who vpon their Examinations made it so apparant to the Iurie as there was no question; But because the fact is of no great importance, in respect her life is not in question by this Indictment, and the Depositions and examinations are many, I leaue to trouble you with any more of them, for being found guiltie of this offence, the penaltie of the Law is as much as her good Neighbours doe require, which is to be deliuered from the companie of such a dangerous, wicked, and malicious Witch. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ ISABEL ROBEY _in the Countie of Lancaster, for Witch-craft: vpon Wednesday the nineteenth of August, 1612. At the Assizes and generall Goale-deliuery, holden at Lancaster._ Before _Sir_ EDWARD BROMLEY, _Knight, one of his Maiesties Iustices of Assizes at Lancaster._ _Isabel Robey._[T2_a_1] Thus at one time may you behold Witches of all sorts from many places in this Countie of Lancaster which now may lawfully bee said to abound asmuch in Witches of diuers kindes as Seminaries, Iesuites, and Papists.[T2_a_2] Here then is the last that came to act her part in this lamentable and wofull Tragedie, wherein his Maiestie hath lost so many Subjects, Mothers their Children, Fathers their Friends, and Kinsfolkes[T2_a_3] the like whereof hath not beene set forth in any age. What hath the Kings Maiestie written and published in his _Dæmonologie_, by way of premonition and preuention, which hath not here by the first or last beene executed, put in practise or discouered? What Witches haue euer vpon their Arraignement and Trial made such open liberall and voluntarie declarations of their liues, and such confessions of their offences: The manner of their attempts and their bloudie practises, their meetings, consultations and what not? Therefore I shall now conclude with this _Isabel Robey_ who is now come to her triall. This _Isabel Robey_ Prisoner in the Castle at Lancaster being brought to the Barre before the great Seat of Iustice was there according to the former order and course Indicted and Arraigned, for that shee Felloniously had practised, exercised and vsed her Deuilish and wicked Artes called _Witchcrafts_, _Inchantments_, _Charmes and Sorceries_. Vpon her Arraignment to this Indictment she pleaded not guiltie, and for the triall of her life, put her selfe vpon God and her Countrie. So as now the Gentlemen of the Iurie of life and death stand charged with her as with others. _The Euidence against_ Isabel Robey _Prisoner at the Barre._ * * * * * _The Examination of_ PETER CHADDOCK _of Windle, in the Countie of Lancaster: Taken at Windle aforesaid, the 12. day of Iuly 1612._ Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI, Angliæ, &c. decimo, & Scotiæ xlv. Before _Sir_ THOMAS GERRARD _Knight, and Barronet. One of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace within the said Countie._ The said Examinate vpon his Oath saith, That before his Marriage hee heard say that the said _Isabel Robey_ was not pleased that hee should marrie his now wife: whereupon this Examinate called the said _Isabel_ Witch, and said that hee did not care for her. Then within two dayes next after this Examinate was sore pained in his bones: And this Examinate hauing occasion to meete Master _Iohn Hawarden_ at Peaseley Crosse, wished one _Thomas Lyon_ to goe thither with him, which they both did so; but as they came home-wards, they both were in euill case. But within a short time after, this Examinate and the said _Thomas Lyon_ were both very well amended. And this Examinate further saith, that about foure yeares last past, his now wife was angrie with the said _Isabel_, shee then being in his house, and his said Wife thereupon went out of the house, and presently after that the said _Isabel_ went likewise out of the house not well pleased, as this Examinate then did thinke, and presently after vpon the same day, this Examinate with his said wife working in the Hay, a paine and a starknesse fell into the necke of this Examinat which grieued him very sore; wherup[=o] this Examinat sent to one _Iames_ a Glouer, which then dwelt in Windle, and desired him to pray for him, and within foure or fiue dayes next after this Examinate did mend very well. Neuerthelesse this Examinate during the same time was very sore pained, and so thirstie withall, and hot within his body, that hee would haue giuen any thing hee had, to haue slaked his thirst, hauing drinke enough in the house, and yet could not drinke vntill the time that the said _Iames_ the Glouer came to him, and this Examinate then said before the said Glouer, I would to God that I could drinke, where upon the said Glouer said to this Examinate, take that drinke, and in the name of the _Father_, the _Sonne_, and the _Holy Ghost_, drinke it, saying; The Deuill and Witches are not able to preuaile against GOD and his Word, whereupon this Examinate then tooke the glasse of drinke, and did drinke it all, and afterwards mended very well, and so did continue in good health, vntill our Ladie day in Lent was twelue moneth or thereabouts, since which time this Examinate saith, that hee hath beene sore pained with great warch in his bones,[T3_b_] and all his limmes, and so yet continueth, and this Examinate further saith, that his said warch and paine came to him rather by meanes of the said _Isabel Robey_, then otherwise, as he verily thinketh. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IANE WILKINSON, _Wife of_ FRANCIS WILKINSON, _of Windle aforesaid: Taken before the said Sir_ THOMAS GERRARD, _Knight and Barronet, the day and place aforesaid. Against the said_ ISABEL ROBEY. The said Examinate vpon her oath saith, that vpon a time the said _Isabel Robey_ asked her milke, and shee denied to giue her any: And afterwards shee met the said _Isabel_, whereupon this Examinate waxed afraid of her, and was then presently sick, and so pained that shee could not stand, and the next day after this Examinate going to Warrington, was suddenly pinched on her Thigh as shee thought, with foure fingers & a Thumbe twice together, and thereupon was sicke, in so much as shee could not get home but on horse-backe, yet soone after shee did mend. * * * * * _The Examination of_ MARGARET LYON _wife of_ THOMAS LYON _the yonger, of Windle aforesaid: Taken before the said Sir_ THOMAS GERRARD, _Knight and Barronet, the day and place aforesaid. Against the said_ ISABEL ROBEY. The said _Margaret Lyon_ vpon her Oath saith, that vpon a time _Isabel Robey_ came into her house and said that _Peter Chaddock_ should neuer mend vntill he had asked her forgiuenesse; and that shee knew hee would neuer doe: whereupon this Examinate said, how doe you know that, for he is a true Christian, and hee would aske all the world forgiuenesse? then the said _Isabel_ said, that is all one, for hee will neuer aske me forgiuenesse, therefore hee shall neuer mend; And this Examinate further saith, that shee being in the house of the said _Peter Chaddock_, the wife of the said _Peter_, who is God-Daughter of the said _Isabel_, and hath in times past vsed her companie much, did affirme, that the said _Peter_ was now satisfied, that the said _Isabel Robey_ was no Witch, by sending to one _Halseworths_, which they call a wiseman,[T4_b_1] and the wife of the said _Peter_ then said, to abide vpon it,[T4_b_2] I thinke that my Husband will neuer mend vntill hee haue asked her forgiuenesse, choose him whether hee will bee angrie or pleased, for this is my opinion: to which he answered, when he did need to aske her forgiuenesse, he would, but hee thought hee did not need, for any thing hee knew: and yet this Examinate further saith, That the said _Peter Chaddock_ had very often told her, that he was very afraid that the said _Isabel_ had done him much hurt; and that he being fearefull to meete her, he hath turned backe at such time as he did meet her alone, which the said _Isabel_ hath since then affirmed to be true, saying, that hee the said _Peter_ did turne againe when he met her in the Lane. * * * * * _The Examination of_ MARGARET PARRE _wife of_ HVGH PARRE _of Windle aforesaid, Taken before the said Sir_ THOMAS GERARD _Knight and Baronet, the day and place aforesaid. Against the said_ ISABEL ROBEY. The said Examinate vpon her oath saith, that vpon a time, the said _Isabel Robey_ came to her house, and this Examinate asked her how _Peter Chaddock_ did, And the said _Isabel_ answered shee knew not, for shee went not to see, and then this Examinate asked her how _Iane Wilkinson_ did, for that she had beene lately sicke and suspected to haue beene bewitched: then the said _Isabel_ said twice together, I haue bewitched her too: and then this Examinate said that shee trusted shee could blesse her selfe from all Witches and defied them; and then the said _Isabel_ said twice together, would you defie me? & afterwards the said _Isabel_ went away not well pleased. Here the Gentlemen of the last Iurie of Life and Death hauing taken great paines, the time being farre spent, and the number of the Prisoners great, returned into the Court to deliuer vp their Verdict against them as followeth. _viz._ * * * * * _The Verdict of Life and Death._ Who vpon their Oathes found the said _Isabel Robey_ guiltie of the Fellonie by Witch-craft, contained in the Indictment against her. And _Margaret Pearson_ guiltie of the offence by Witch-craft, contained in the Indictment against her. Whereupon Master _Couell_ was commaunded by the Court in the afternoone to bring forth all the Prisoners that stood Conuicted, to receiue their Iudgment of Life and Death. For his Lordship now intended to proceed to a finall dispatch of the Pleas of the Crowne. And heere endeth the Arraignement and Triall of the Witches at Lancaster. Thus at the length haue we brought to perfection this intended Discouery of Witches, with the Arraignement and Triall of euery one of them in order, by the helpe of Almightie God, and this Reuerend Iudge; the Lanterne from whom I haue received light to direct me in this course to the end. And as in the beginning, I presented vnto their view a Kalender containing the names of all the witches: So now I shall present vnto you in the conclusion and end, such as stand conuicted, and come to the Barre to receiue the iudgement of the Law for their offences, and the proceedings of the Court against such as were acquitted, and found not guiltie: with the religious Exhortation of this Honorable Iudge, as eminent in gifts and graces, as in place and preeminence, which I may lawfully affirme without base flattery (the canker of all honest and worthie minds) drew the eyes and reuerend respect of all that great Audience present, to heare their Iudgement, and the end of these proceedings. * * * * * _The Prisoners being brought to the Barre._ The Court commanded three solemne Proclamations for silence, vntill Iudgement for Life and Death were giuen. Whereupon I presented to his Lordship the names of the Prisoners in order, which were now to receiue their Iudgement. * * * * * ¶ The names of the Prisoners at the _Barre to receiue their Judgement_ of Life and Death. _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox._ _Elizabeth Deuice._ _James Deuice._ _Anne Redferne._ _Alice Nutter._ _Katherine Hewet_, _John Bulcock._ _Jane Bulcock._ _Alizon Deuice._ _Isabel Robey._ [Illustration: decoration] THE IVDGEMENT OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE Sir EDWARD BROMLEY, Knight, one _of his Maiesties Iustices of Assize at Lancaster vpon the Witches conuicted_, as followeth. _There is no man aliue more vnwilling to pronounce this wofull and heauy Iudgement against you, then my selfe: and if it were possible, I would to God this cup might passe from me. But since it is otherwise prouided, that after all proceedings of the Law, there must be a Iudgement; and the Execution of that Iudgement must succeed and follow in due time: I pray you haue patience to receiue that which the Law doth lay vpon you. You of all people haue the least cause to complaine: since in the Triall of your liues there hath beene great care and paines taken, and much time spent: and very few or none of you, but stand conuicted vpon your owne voluntarie confessions and Examinations_, Ex ore proprio. _Few Witnesses examined against you, but such as were present, and parties in your Assemblies. Nay I may further affirme, What persons of your nature and condition, euer were Arraigned and Tried with more solemnitie, had more libertie giuen to pleade or answere to euerie particular point of Euidence against you? In conclusion such hath beene the generall care of all, that had to deale with you, that you haue neither cause to be offended in the proceedings of the Iustices, that first tooke paines in these businesses, nor with the Court that hath had great care to giue nothing in euidence against you, but matter of fact; Sufficient matter vpon Record, and not to induce or leade the Iurie to finde any one of you guiltie vpon matter of suspition or presumption, nor with the witnesses who haue beene tried, as it were in the fire: Nay, you cannot denie but must confesse what extraordinarie meanes hath beene vsed to make triall of their euidence, and to discouer the least intended practice in any one of them, to touch your liues vniustly._ _As you stand simply (your offences and bloudie practises not considered) your fall would rather moue compassion, then exasperate any man. For whom would not the ruine of so many poore creatures at one time, touch, as in apparance simple, and of little vnderstanding?_ _But the bloud of those innocent children, and others his Maiesties Subiects, whom cruelly and barbarously you haue murdered, and cut off, with all the rest of your offences, hath cryed out vnto the Lord against you, and sollicited for satisfaction and reuenge, and that hath brought this heauie iudgement vpon you at this time._ _It is therefore now time no longer wilfully to striue, both against the prouidence of God, and the Iustice of the Land: the more you labour to acquit your selues, the more euident and apparant you make your offences to the World. And vnpossible it is that they shall either prosper or continue in this World, or receiue reward in the next, that are stained with so much innocent bloud._ _The worst then I wish to you, standing at the Barre conuicted, to receiue your Iudgement, is, Remorse, and true Repentance, for the safegard of your Soules, and after, an humble, penitent, and heartie acknowledgement of your grieuous sinnes and offences committed both against_ GOD _and Man._ _First, yeeld humble and heartie thankes to Almightie_ GOD _for taking hold of you in your beginning, and making stay of your intended bloudie practises (although_ GOD _knowes there is too much done alreadie) which would in time have cast so great a weight of Iudgement vpon your Soules._ _Then praise_ GOD _that it pleased him not to surprize or strike you suddenly, euen in the execution of your bloudie Murthers, and in the middest of your wicked practises, but hath giuen you time, and takes you away by a iudiciall course and triall of the Law._ _Last of all, craue pardon of the World, and especially of all such as you haue iustly offended, either by tormenting themselues, children, or friends, murder of their kinsfolks, or losse of any their goods._ _And for leauing to future times the president of so many barbarous and bloudie murders, with such meetings, practises, consultations, and meanes to execute reuenge, being the greatest part of your comfort in all your actions, which may instruct others to hold the like course, or fall in the like sort:_ _It only remaines I pronounce the Iudgement of the Court against you by the Kings authoritie, which is;_ You shall all goe from hence to the Castle, from whence you came; from thence you shall bee carried to the place of Execution for this Countie: where your bodies shall bee hanged vntill you be dead; AND GOD HAVE MERCIE VPON YOVR SOVLES; For your comfort in this world I shall commend a learned and worthie Preacher to instruct you, and prepare you, for an other World: All I can doe for you is to pray for your Repentance in this World, for the satisfaction of many; And forgiuenesse in the next world, for sauing of your Soules. And God graunt you may make good vse of the time you haue in this world, to his glorie and your owne comfort. _Margaret Pearson._ The Iudgement of the Court against you, is, You shall stand vpon the Pillarie in open Market, at _Clitheroe_, _Paddiham_, _Whalley_, and _Lancaster_, foure Market dayes, with a Paper vpon your head, in great Letters, declaring your offence, and there you shall confesse your offence, and after to remaine in Prison for one yeare without Baile, and after to be bound with good Sureties, to be of the good behauiour. * * * * * _To the Prisoners found not guiltie_ by the IVRIES. _Elizabeth Astley._ _John Ramsden._ _Alice Gray._ _Isabel Sidegraues._ _Lawrence Hay._[X_a_] _To you that are found not guiltie, and are by the Law to bee acquited, presume no further of your Innocencie then you haue just cause: for although it pleased God out of his Mercie, to spare you at this time, yet without question there are amongst you, that are as deepe in this Action, as any of them that are condemned to die for their offences: The time is now for you to forsake the Deuill: Remember how, and in what sort hee hath dealt with all of you: make good vse of this great mercie and fauour: and pray unto God you fall not againe: For great is your happinesse to haue time in this World, to prepare your selues against the day when you shall appeare before the Great Iudge of all._ _Notwithstanding, the iudgement of the Court, is_, You shall all enter Recognizances with good sufficient Suerties, to appeare at the next Assizes at Lancaster, and in the meane time to be of the good behauiour. All I can say to you: _Jennet Bierley_, _Ellen Bierley_, _Jane Southworth_, is, That GOD hath deliuered you beyond expectation, I pray GOD you may vse this mercie and fauour well; and take heed you fall not hereafter: And so the Court doth order you shall be deliuered. What more can bee written or published of the proceedings of this honourable Court: but to conclude with the Execution of the Witches,[X_b_] who were executed the next day following at the common place of Execution, neare vnto Lancaster. Yet in the end giue mee leaue to intreate some fauour that haue beene afraid to speake vntill my worke were finished. If I haue omitted any thing materiall, or published any thing imperfect, excuse me for that I haue done: It was a worke imposed vpon me by the Iudges, in respect I was so wel instructed in euery particular. In hast I haue vndertaken to finish it in a busie Tearme amongst my other imploiments. My charge was to publish the proceedings of Iustice, and matter of Fact, wherein I wanted libertie to write what I would, and am limited to set forth nothing against them, but matter vpon Record, euen in their owne Countrie tearmes, which may seeme strange. And this I hope will giue good satisfaction to such as vnderstand how to iudge of a businesse of this nature. Such as haue no other imploiment but to question other mens Actions, I leaue them to censure what they please, It is no part of my profession to publish any thing in print, neither can I paint in extraordinarie tearmes.[X2_a_] But if this discouerie may serue for your instruction, I shall thinke my selfe very happie in this Seruice, and so leaue it to your generall censure. _Da veniam Ignoto non displicuisse meretur, Festinat studÿs qui placuisse tibi._ [Illustration: decoration] * * * * * _THE_ ARRAIGNEMENT AND TRIALL OF IENNET PRESTON, OF GISBORNE IN CRAVEN, in the Countie of Yorke. At the Assises and Generall Gaole-_Deliuerie_ _holden at the Castle of Yorke_ in the Countie of Yorke, the xxvij. day of Iuly last past, _Anno Regni Regis_ IACOBI _Angliæ, &c. Decimo, & Scotiæ quadragesimo quinto._ Before _Sir_ IAMES ALTHAM _Knight, one_ of the Barons of his Maiesties Court of Exchequer; and Sir EDWARD BROMLEY Knight, another of _the Barons of his Maiesties Court of Exchequer;_ his Maiesties Iustices of Assise, Oyer and Terminer, _and generall Gaole-Deliuerie, in the Circuit of the North-parts._ [Illustration: decoration] LONDON. Printed by W. STANSBY for IOHN BARNES, and are to be sold at his Shoppe neere Holborne Conduit. 1612. [Illustration: decoration] THE ARRAIGNMENT _and Triall of_ IENNET PRESTON _of Gisborne in Crauen, in the Countie of Yorke, at the Assises and generall Gaole-deliuerie, holden at the Castle of Yorke, in the Countie of Yorke, the seuen and twentieth day of Iuly last past._ Anno Regni Regis Iacobi Angliæ &c. Decimo & Scotiæ xlvj. _Jennet Preston._ Many haue vndertaken to write great discourses of Witches and many more dispute and speake of them. And it were not much if as many wrote of them as could write at al, to set forth to the world the particular Rites and Secrets of their vnlawfull Artes, with their infinite and wonderfull practises which many men little feare till they seaze vpon them. As by this late wonderfull discouerie of Witches in the Countie of Lancaster may appeare, wherein I find such apparant matter to satisfie the World, how dangerous and malitious a Witch this _Iennet Preston_ was, How vnfit to liue, hauing once so great mercie extended to her: And againe to reuiue her practises, and returne to her former course of life; that I thinke it necessarie not to let the memorie of her life and death die with her; But to place her next to her fellowes and to set forth the Arraignement Triall and Conviction of her, with her offences for which she was condemned and executed. And although shee died for her offence before the rest, I yet can afford her no better place then in the end of this Booke in respect the proceedings was in an other Countie; You that were husband to this _Iennet Preston_; her friends and kinsfolkes, who haue not beene sparing to deuise so scandalous a slander out of the malice of your hearts, as that shee was maliciously prosecuted by Master _Lister_ and others; Her life vniustly taken away by practise; and that (euen at the Gallowes where shee died impenitent and void of all feare or grace) she died an Innocent woman, because she would confesse nothing: You I say may not hold it strange, though at this time, being not only moued in conscience, but directed, for example sake, with that which I haue to report of her, I suffer you not to wander any further, but with this short discourse oppose your idle conceipts able to seduce others: And by Charmes of Imputations and slander, laid vpon the Iustice of the Land, to cleare her that was iustly condemned and executed for her offence; That this _Iennet Preston_ was for many yeares well thought of and esteemed by Master _Lister_ who afterwards died for it Had free accesse to his house, kind respect and entertainment; nothing denied her she stood in need of. Which of you that dwelleth neare them in Crauen but can and will witnesse it? which might haue incouraged a Woman of any good condition to haue runne a better course. The fauour and goodnesse of this Gentleman Master _Lister_ now liuing, at his first entrance after the death of his Father extended towards her, and the reliefe she had at all times, with many other fauours that succeeded from time to time, are so palpable and euident to all men as no man can denie them. These were sufficient motiues to haue perswaded her from the murder of so good a friend. But such was her execrable Ingratitude, as euen this grace and goodnesse was the cause of his miserable and vntimely death. And euen in the beginning of his greatest fauours extended to her, began shee to worke this mischiefe, according to the course of all Witches. This _Iennet Preston_, whose Arraignment and Triall, with the particular Euidence against her I am now to set forth vnto you, one that liued at Gisborne in Crauen, in the Countie of Yorke, neare Master _Lister_ of Westbie, against whom she practised much mischiefe; for hauing cut off _Thomas Lister_ Esquire, father to this gentleman now liuing,[Y_a_1] shee reuenged her selfe vpon his sonne: who in short time receiued great losse in his goods and cattell by her meanes. These things in time did beget suspition, and at the Assizes and Generall Gaole deliuerie holden at the Castle of Yorke in Lent last past, before my Lord _Bromley_, shee was Indicted and Arraigned for the murder of a Child of one _Dodg-sonnes_,[Y_a_2] but by the fauour and mercifull consideration of the Iurie thereof acquited. But this fauour and mercie was no sooner extended towardes her, and shee set at libertie, But shee began to practise the utter ruine and ouerthrow of the name and bloud of this Gentleman. And the better to execute her mischiefe and wicked intent, within foure dayes after her deliuerance out of the Castle at Yorke, went to the great Assembly of Witches at _Malking-Tower_ vpon Good-friday last: to praye aide and helpe, for the murder of Master _Lister_, in respect he had prosecuted against her at the same Assizes. Which it pleased God in his mercie to discouer, and in the end, howsoeuer he had blinded her, as he did the King of �gypt and his Instruments, for the brighter euidence of his own powerfull glory: Yet by a Iudiciall course and triall of the Law, cut her off, and so deliuered his people from the danger of her Deuilish and wicked practises: which you shall heare against her, at her Arraignement and Triall, which I shall now set forth to you in order as it was performed, with the wonderfull signes and tokens of GOD, to satisfie the Iurie to finde her guiltie of this bloudie murther, committed foure yeares since. * * * * * Indictment. This _Iennet Preston_ being Prisoner in the Castle at Yorke, and indicted, for that shee felloniously had practised, vsed, and exercised diuerse wicked and deuillish Arts, called Witchcrafts, Inchauntments, Charmes, and Sorceries, in and vpon one _Thomas Lister_ of Westby in Crauen, in the Countie of Yorke Esquire, and by force of the same Witchcraft felloniously the said _Thomas Lister_ had killed, _Contra Pacem &c._ beeing at the Barre, was arraigned. To this Indictment vpon her Arraignement, shee pleaded not guiltie, and for the Triall of her life put her selfe vpon GOD and her Countrey. Whereupon my Lord _Altham_ commaunded Master Sheriffe of the Countie of Yorke, in open Court to returne a Iurie of sufficient Gentlemen of vnderstanding, to passe betweene our Soueraigne Lord the Kings Majestie and her, and others the Prisoners, vpon their liues and deaths; who were afterwards sworne, according to the forme and order of the Court, the prisoner being admitted to her lawfull challenge. Which being done, and the Prisoner at the Barre to receiue her Tryall, Master _Heyber_,[Y2_a_] one of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the same County, hauing taken great paines in the proceedings against her; and being best instructed of any man of all the particular points of Euidence against her, humbly prayed, the witnesses hereafter following might be examined against her, and the seuerall Examinations, taken before Master _Nowel_, and certified, might openly bee published against her; which hereafter follow in order, _viz._ * * * * * _The Euidence for the Kings Maiestie_ Against IENNET PRESTON, _Prisoner at the Barre._ Hereupon were diuerse Examinations taken and read openly against her, to induce and satisfie the Gentlemen of the Iurie of Life and Death, to finde she was a Witch; and many other circumstances for the death of M. _Lister_. In the end _Anne Robinson_ and others were both examined, who vpon their Oathes declared against her, That M. _Lister_ lying in great extremitie, vpon his death bedde, cried out vnto them that stood about him; that _Iennet Preston_ was in the house, looke where shee is, take hold of her: for Gods sake shut the doores, and take her, shee cannot escape away. Looke about for her, and lay hold on her, for shee is in the house: and so cryed very often in his great paines, to them that came to visit him during his sicknesse. _Anne Robinson_, and _Thomas Lister_, Being examined further, they both gaue this in euidence against her, That when Master _Lister_ lay vpon his death-bedde, hee cryed out in great extremitie; _Iennet Preston_ lyes heauie vpon me, _Prestons_ wife lies heauie vpon me; helpe me, helpe me: and so departed, crying out against her. These, with many other witnesses, were further examined, and deposed, That _Iennet Preston_, the Prisoner at the Barre, being brought to M. _Lister_ after hee was dead, & layd out to be wound vp in his winding-sheet, the said _Iennet Preston_ comming to touch the dead corpes, they bled fresh bloud presently,[Y3_a_] in the presence of all that were there present: Which hath euer beene held a great argument to induce a Iurie to hold him guiltie that shall be accused of Murther, and hath seldome, or neuer, fayled in the Tryall. But these were not alone: for this wicked and bloud-thirstie Witch was no sooner deliuered at the Assises holden at Yorke in Lent last past, being indicted, arraigned, and by the fauor and mercie of the Iurie found not guiltie, for the murther of a Child by Witch-craft: but vpon the Friday following, beeing Good-Friday, shee rode in hast to the great meeting at Malking-Tower, and there prayed aide for the murther of M. _Thomas Lister:_ as at large shall appeare, by the seuerall Examinations hereafter following; sent to these Assises from Master _Nowel_ and other his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster, to be giuen in euidence against her, vpon her Triall, _viz._ * * * * * _The Examination and Euidence of_ IAMES DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, Labourer, taken at the house of_ IAMES WILSEY, _of the Forrest of Pendle in the Countie of Lancaster, the seuen and twentieth day of Aprill_, Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI Angliæ, &c. Decimo ac Scotiæ quadragesimo quinto. Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of the Peace within the Countie of Lancaster_, viz. This Examinate saith, That vpon Good-Friday last about twelue of the clocke in the day-time, there dined in this Examinates said mothers house a number of persons, whereof three were men, with this Examinate, and the rest women: and that they met there for these three causes following (as this Examinates said mother told this Examinate): First was for the naming of the Spirit, which _Alizon Deuice_, now Prisoner at Lancaster, had, but did not name him, because shee was not there. The second cause was for the deliuery of his said Grand-mother, this Examinates said sister _Alizon_, the said _Anne Chattox_, and her daughter _Redferne_: Killing the Gaoler at Lancaster; and before the next Assizes to blow vp the Castle there; to that end the aforesaid Prisoners might by that meanes make an escape and get away. All which this Examinate then heard them conferre of. And the third cause was, for that there was a woman dwelling in Gilburne Parish, who came into this Examinates said Grand-mothers house, who there came, and craued assistance of the rest of them that were then there, for the killing of Master _Lister_ of Westby: because, as she then said, he had borne malice vnto her, and had thought to haue put her away at the last Assizes at Yorke; but could not. And then this Examinat heard the said woman say, that her power was not strong enough to doe it her selfe, being now lesse then before time it had beene. And he also further saith, that the said _Prestons_ wife had a Spirit with her like unto a white Foale, with a blacke-spot in the forehead. And further, this Examinat saith, That since the said meeting, as aforesaid, this Examinate hath beene brought to the wife of one _Preston_ in Gisburne Parish aforesaid, by _Henry Hargreiues_ of Goldshey, to see whether shee was the woman that came amongst the said Witches, on the said last Good-Friday, to craue their aide and assistance for the killing of the said Master _Lister_: and hauing had full view of her; hee this Examinate confesseth, That shee was the selfe-same woman which came amongst the said Witches on the said last Good-Friday, for their aide for the killing of the said Master _Lister_; and that brought the Spirit with her, in the shape of a White Foale, as aforesaid. And this Examinate further saith, That all the said Witches went out of the said house in their owne shapes and likenesses, and they all, by that they were forth of the doores, were gotten on horse-backe like vnto Foales, some of one colour, some of another, and _Prestons_ wife was the last; and when she got on horse-backe, they all presently vanished out of this Examinats sight: and before their said parting away, they all appointed to meete at the said _Prestons_ wifes house that day twelue-month; at which time the said _Prestons_ wife promised to make them a great feast; and if they had occasion to meet in the meane time, then should warning bee giuen that they all should meete vpon Romles-Moore. And this Examinate further saith, That at the said feast at Malking-Tower, this Examinat heard them all giue their consents to put the said Master _Thomas Lister_ of Westby to death: and after Master _Lister_ should be made away by Witchcraft, then al the said Witches gaue their consents to ioyne altogether to hancke Master _Leonard Lister_,[Z_a_] when he should come to dwell at the Sowgill, and so put him to death. * * * * * _The Examination of_ HENRIE HARGREIVES _of Goldshey-booth, in the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster Yeoman, taken the fifth day of May_, Anno Reg. Regis IACOBI Angliæ, &c. Decimo, ac Scociæ quadragesimo quinto. Before ROGER NOWEL, NICHOLAS BANNESTER, _and_ ROBERT HOLDEN, _Esquires; three of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace within the said Countie._ This Examinat vpon his oath saith, That _Anne Whittle_, alias _Chattox_, confessed vnto him, that she knoweth one _Prestons_ wife neere Gisburne, and that the said _Prestons_ wife should haue beene at the said feast, vpon the said Good-Friday, and that shee was an ill woman, and had done Master _Lister_ of Westby great hurt. * * * * * _The Examination of_ ELIZABETH DEVICE, _mother of_ IAMES DEVICE, _taken before_ ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _Esquires, the day and yeare aforesaid_, viz. The said _Elizabeth Deuice_ vpon her Examination confesseth, That vpon Good-Friday last, there dined at this Examinats house, which she hath said are Witches, and doth verily thinke them to be Witches; and their names are those whom _Iames Deuice_ hath formerly spoken of to be there. She also confesseth in all things touching the killing of Master _Lister_ of Westby, as the said _Iames Deuice_ hath before confessed. And the said _Elizabeth Deuice_ also further saith, That at the said meeting at Malking-Tower, as aforesaid, the said _Katherine Hewyt_ and _Iohn Bulcock_, with all the rest then there, gaue their consents, with the said _Prestons_ wife, for the killing of the said Master _Lister_. And for the killing of the said Master _Leonard Lister_, she this Examinate saith in all things, as the said _Iames Deuice_ hath before confessed in his Examination. * * * * * _The Examination of_ IENNET DEVICE, _daughter of_ ELIZABETH _late wife of_ IOHN DEVICE, _of the Forrest of Pendle, in the Countie of Lancaster, about the age of nine yeares or thereabouts, taken the day and yeare aboue-said:_ Before ROGER NOWEL _and_ NICHOLAS BANESTER, _Esquires, two of his Maiesties Iustices of Peace in the Countie of Lancaster._ The said Examinate vpon her Examination saith, that vpon Good-friday last there was about twenty persons, whereof only two were men, to this Examinats remembrance, at her said Grand-mothers house, called Malking-Tower aforesaid, about twelue of the clocke: all which persons, this Examinates said mother told her were Witches, and that she knoweth the names of diuers of the said Witches. * * * * * After all these Examinations, Confessions, and Euidence, deliuered in open Court against her, His Lordship commanded the Iurie to obserue the particular circumstances;[Z2_a_] first, Master _Lister_ in his great extremitie, to complaine hee saw her, and requested them that were by him to lay hold on her. After he cried out shee lay heauie vpon him, euen at the time of his death. But the Conclusion is of more consequence then all the rest, that _Iennet Preston_ being brought to the dead corps, they bled freshly. And after her deliuerance in Lent, it is proued shee rode vpon a white Foale, and was present in the great assembly at _Malkin Tower_ with the Witches, to intreat and pray for aide of them, to kill Master _Lister_, now liuing, for that he had prosequuted against her. And against these people you may not expect such direct euidence, since all their workes are the workes of darkenesse, no witnesses are present to accuse them, therefore I pray God direct your consciences. After the Gentlemen of the Iurie of Life and Death had spent the most part of the day, in consideration of the euidence against her, they returned into the Court and deliuered vp their Verdict of Life and Death. * * * * * _The Verdict of Life and Death._ Who found _Iennet Preston_ guiltie of the fellonie and murder by Witch-craft of _Thomas Lister_, Esquire; conteyned in the Indictment against her, &c. Afterwards, according to the course and order of the Lawes, his Lordship pronounced Iudgement against her to bee hanged for her offence. And so the Court arose. * * * * * Here was the wonderfull discouerie of this _Iennet Preston_, who for so many yeares had liued at Gisborne in Crauen, neare Master _Lister_: one thing more I shall adde to all these particular Examinations, and euidence of witnesses, which I saw, and was present in the Court at Lancaster, when it was done at the Assizes holden in August following. My Lord _Bromley_ being very suspicious of the accusation of _Iennet Deuice_, the little Wench, commanded her to looke vpon the Prisoners that were present, and declare which of them were present at _Malkin Tower_, at the great assembly of Witches vpon Good-Friday last: shee looked vpon and tooke many by the handes, and accused them to be there, and when shee had accused all that were there present, shee told his Lordship there was a Woman that came out of Crauen that was amongst the Witches at that Feast, but shee saw her not amongst the Prisoners at the Barre. What a singular note was this of a Child, amongst many to misse her, that before that time was hanged for her offence, which shee would neuer confesse or declare at her death? here was present old _Preston_ her husband, who then cried out and went away: being fully satisfied his wife had Iustice, and was worthie of death. To conclude then this present discourse, I heartilie desire you, my louing Friends and Countrie-men, for whose particular instructions this is added to the former of the wonderfull discouerie of Witches in the Countie of Lancaster: And for whose particular satisfaction this is published; Awake in time, and suffer not your selues to be thus assaulted. Consider how barbarously this Gentleman hath been dealt withall; and especially you that hereafter shall passe vpon any Iuries of Life and Death, let not your conniuence, or rather foolish pittie, spare such as these, to exequute farther mischiefe. Remember that shee was no sooner set at libertie, but shee plotted the ruine and ouerthrow of this Gentleman, and his whole Familie. Expect not, as this reuerend and learned Iudge saith, such apparent proofe against them, as against others, since all their workes, are the workes of darkenesse: and vnlesse it please Almightie God to raise witnesses to accuse them, who is able to condemne them? Forget not the bloud that cries out vnto God for reuenge, bring it not vpon your owne heads. Neither doe I vrge this any farther, then with this, that I would alwaies intreat you to remember, that it is as great a crime (as _Salomon_ sayth, _Prov._ 17.) to condemne the innocent, as to let the guiltie escape free. Looke not vpon things strangely alledged, but iudiciously consider what is justly proued against them. And that as well all you that were witnesses, present at the Arraignement and Triall of her, as all other strangers, to whome this Discourse shall come, may take example by this Gentlemen to prosecute these hellish Furies to their end:[Z3_b_1] labor to root them out of the Commonwealth, for the common good of your Countrey. The greatest mercie extended to them, is soone forgotten. GOD graunt vs the long and prosperous cotinuance of these Honorable and Reuerend Iudges, vnder whose Gouernment we liue in these North parts: for we may say, that GOD Almightie hath singled them out, and set him on his Seat, for the defence of Iustice. And for this great deliuerance, let vs all pray to GOD Almightie, that the memorie of these worthie Iudges may bee blessed to all Posterities.[Z3_b_2] _FINIS._ NOTES. [The references are to the alphabetical letters or signatures at the bottom of each page: _a_ is intended for the first and _b_ the second page, marked with such letter or signature.] [Transcriber's Note: In the original text, a single note reference sometimes applies to more than one note. For clarity's sake, in this e-text a number has been added to the end of such references to distinguish among the notes.] DEDICATION. "_The Right Honorable Thomas Lord Knyvet._"] Sir Thomas Knivet, or Knyvet, Gentleman of the Privy Chamber to James the First, was afterwards created Baron of Escricke, in the county of York. He it was who was intrusted to search the vaults under the Parliament House, and who discovered the thirty-six barrels of gunpowder, and apprehended Guido Fawkes, who declared to him, that if he had happened to be within the house when he took him, as he was immediately before, he would not have failed to blow him up, house and all. (Howell's _State Trials_, vol. ii., p. 202.) His courage and conduct on this occasion seem to have recommended him to the especial favour of James. Dying without issue, the title of Lord Howard of Escrick was conferred on Sir Edward Howard, son of Thomas Howard, Earl of Suffolk, who had married the eldest daughter and co-heir of Sir H. Knivet; and, having been enjoyed successively by his two sons, ended in his grandson Charles, in the beginning of the last century. It must be admitted that the writer has chosen his patron very felicitously. Who so fit to have the book dedicated to him as one who had acted so conspicuous a part on the memorable occasion at Westminster? The blowing up of Lancaster Castle and good Mr. Covel, by the conclave of witches at Malkin's Tower, was no discreditable imitation of the grand metropolitan drama on provincial boards. A 2. FIRST IMPRIMATUR. "_Ja. Altham, Edw. Bromley._"] These two judges were Barons of the Court of Exchequer, but neither of them seems to have left a name extraordinarily distinguished for legal learning. Altham was one of the assistants named in the commission for the trial of the Countess of Somerset for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury in 1616. Bromley appears, from incidental notices contained in the diary of Nicholas Assheton, (see Whitaker's _Whalley_, third edition, page 300,) and other sources, to have frequently taken the northern circuit. He was not of the family of Lord Chancellor Bromley, but of another stock. A 3. SECOND IMPRIMATUR: "_Edward Bromley. I took upon mee to reuise and correct it._"] This revision by the judge who presided at the trial gives a singular and unique value and authority to the work. We have no other report of any witch trial which has an equal stamp of authenticity. How many of the rhetorical flourishes interspersed in the book are the property of Thomas Potts, Esquier, and how many are the interpolation of the "excellent care" of the worthy Baron, it is scarcely worth while to investigate. Certainly never were judge and clerk more admirably paired. The _Shallow_ on the bench was well reflected in the _Master Slender_ below. B _a_. "_The number of them being knowen to exceed all others at any time heretofore at one time to be indicted, arraigned, and receiue their tryall._"] Probably this was the case, at least in England; but a greater number had been convicted before, even in this country, at one time, than were found guilty on this occasion, as it appears from Scot, (_Discovery of Witchcraft_, page 543, edition 1584,) that seventeen or eighteen witches were condemned at once, at St. Osith, in Essex, in 1576, of whom an account was written by Brian Darcy, with the names and colours of their spirits. B _b_. "_She was a very old woman, about the age of fourescore._"] Dr. Henry More would have styled old Demdike "An eximious example of Moses, his Mecassephah, the word which he uses in that law,--Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Margaret Agar and Julian Cox, (see Glanvill's _Collection of Relations_, p. 135, edition 1682,) on whom he dwells with such delighted interest, were very inferior subjects to what, in his hands, Elizabeth Sothernes would have made. They had neither of them the finishing attribute of blindness, so fearful in a witch, to complete the sketch; nor such a fine foreground for the painting as the forest of Pendle presented; nor the advantage, for grouping, of a family of descendants in which witchcraft might be transmitted to the third generation. B 2 _a_. "_Roger Nowell, Esquire._"] This busy and mischievous personage who resided at Read Hall, in the immediate neighbourhood of Pendle, was sheriff of Lancashire in 1610. He married Katherine, daughter of John Murton, of Murton, and was buried at Whalley, January 31st, 1623. He was of the same family as Alexander Nowell, the Dean of St. Paul's, and Lawrence Nowell, the restorer of Saxon literature in England; and tarnished a name which they had rendered memorable, by becoming, apparently, an eager and willing instrument in that wicked persecution which resulted in the present trial. His ill-directed activity seems to have fanned the dormant embers into a blaze, and to have given aim and consistency to the whole scheme of oppression. From this man was descended, in the female line, one whose merits might atone for a whole generation of Roger Nowells, the truly noble-minded and evangelical Reginald Heber. B 2 _b_ 1. "_Gouldshey_,"] so commonly pronounced, but more properly Goldshaw, or Goldshaw Booth. B 2 _b_ 2. "_The spirit answered, his name was Tibb._"] Bernard, who is learned in the nomenclature of familiar spirits, gives, in his _Guide to Grand Jurymen_, 1630, 12mo, the following list of the names of the more celebrated familiars of English witches. "Such as I have read of are these: Mephistophiles, Lucifer, Little Lord, Fimodes, David, Jude, Little Robin, Smacke, Litefoote, Nonsuch, Lunch, Makeshift, Swash, Pluck, Blue, Catch, White, Callico, Hardname, Tibb, Hiff, Ball, Puss, Rutterkin, Dicke, Prettie, Grissil, and Jacke." In the confession of Isabel Gowdie, a famous Scotch witch, (in _Pitcairne's Trials_, vol. iii. page 614,) we have the following catalogue of attendant spirits, rather, it must be confessed, a formidable band. "The names of our Divellis, that waited upon us, ar thes: first, Robert the Jakis; Sanderis, the Read Roaver; Thomas the Fearie; Swain, the Roaring Lion; Thieffe of Hell; Wait upon Hirself; Mak Hectour; Robert the Rule; Hendrie Laing; and Rorie. We would ken them all, on by on, from utheris. Some of theim apeirit in sadd dunn, som in grasse-grein, som in sea-grein, and some in yallow." Archbishop Harsnet, in his admirable _Declaration of Popish Impostures, under the pretence of casting out Devils_, 1605, 4to, a work unsurpassed for rich humour and caustic wit, clothed in good old idiomatic English, has a chapter "on the strange names of these devils," in which he observes, (p. 46,) "It is not amiss that you be acquainted with these extravagant names of devils, least meeting them otherwise by chance you mistake them for the names of tapsters, or juglers." Certainly, some of the names he marshalls in array smell strongly of the tavern. These are some of them: Pippin, Philpot, Modu, Soforce, Hilco, Smolkin, Hillio, Hiaclito, Lustie Huffe-cap, Killico, Hob, Frateretto, Fliberdigibbet, Hoberdidance, Tocobatto, and Lustie Jollie Jenkin. B 2 _b_ 3. "_About Day-light Gate._"] Day-light Gate, i.e. Evening, the down gate of daylight. See _Promptuarium Parvulorum_, (edited by Way for the Camden Society,) page 188, "Gate down, or downe gate of the Sunne or any other planet."--Occasus. Palgrave gives, "At the sonne gate downe; sur le soleil couchant." B 3 _a_ 1. "_The said Deuill did get blood vnder her left arme._"] It would seem (see Elizabeth Device's Examination afterwards) as if some preliminary search were made, in the case of this poor old woman, for the marks which were supposed to come by the sucking or drawing of the Spirit or Familiar. Most probably her confession was the result of this and other means of annoyance and torture employed in the usual unscrupulous manner, upon a blind woman of eighty. Of those marks supposed to be produced by the sucking of the Spirit or Familiar, the most curious and scientific (if the word may be applied to such a subject) account will be found in a very scarce tract, which seems to have been unknown to the writers on witchcraft. Its title is "A Confirmation and Discovery of Witchcraft, containing these several particulars; That there are Witches called bad Witches, and Witches untruly called good or white Witches, and what manner of people they be, and how they may be knowne, with many particulars thereunto tending. Together with the Confessions of many of those executed since May, 1645, in the several Counties hereafter mentioned. As also some objections Answered. By John Stearne, now of Lawshall, neere Burie Saint Edmunds in Suffolke, sometimes of Manningtree in Essex. Prov. xvii. 15, He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are an abomination to the Lord. Deut. xiii. 14, Thou shall therefore enquire, and make search, and aske diligently whether it be truth and the thing certaine. London, Printed by William Wilson, dwelling in Little Saint Bartholomews, neere Smithfield, 1648, pages 61, besides preface." Stearne, in whom Remigius and De Lancre would have recognized a congenial soul, had a sort of joint commission with Hopkins, as Witch-finder, and tells us (see address to Reader) that he had been in part an agent in finding out or discovering about 200 witches in Essex, Suffolk, Northamptonshire, Huntingtonshire, Bedfordshire, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire, and the Isle of Ely. He deals with the subject undoubtedly like a man whose extensive experience and practice had enabled him to reduce the matter to a complete system. (See his account of their marks, pp. 43 to 50.) He might, like John Kincaid in Tranent, (see Pitcairne's _Criminal Trials_, vol. iii. p. 599,) have assumed the right of Common Pricker, i.e. Searcher for the devil's marks, and had his own tests, which were infallible. He complains, good man, "that in many places I never received penny as yet, nor any am like, notwithstanding I have hands for satisfaction, except I should sue; [he should have sued by all means, we might then have had his bill of particulars, which would have been curious;] but many rather fall upon me for what hath been received, but I hope such suits will be disannulled, and that where I have been out of moneys for Towns in charges and otherwise such course will be taken that I may be satisfied and paid with reason." He was doubtless well deserving of a recompense, and his neighbours were much to blame if he did not receive a full and ample one. Of the latter end of his coadjutor, Hopkins, whom Sir Walter Scott (see Somers's Tracts, vol. iii. p. 97, edit. 1810,) and several other writers represent as ultimately executed himself for witchcraft, he gives a very different, and no doubt more correct account; which, singularly enough, has hitherto remained entirely unnoticed. "He died peaceably at Manningtree, after a long sicknesse of a consumption, as many of his generation had done before him, without any trouble of conscience for what he had done, as was falsely reported of him. He was the son of a godly minister, and therefore, without doubt, within the Covenant." Were not the interests of truth too sacred to be compromised, it might seem almost a pity to demolish that merited and delightful retribution which Butler's lines have immortalized. B 3 _a_ 2. "_I will burne the one of you and hang the other._"] The following extracts from that fine old play, "The Witch of Edmonton," bear a strong resemblance to the scene described in the text. Mother Sawyer, in whom the milk of human kindness is turned to gall by destitution, imbittered by relentless outrage and insult, and who, driven out of the pale of human fellowship, is thrown upon strange and fearful allies, would almost appear to be the counterpart of Mother Demdike. The weird sisters of our transcendant bard are wild and wonderful creations, but have no close relationship to the plain old traditional witch of our ancestors, which is nowhere represented by our dramatic writers with faithfulness and truth except in the Witch of Edmonton:-- _Enter_ ELIZABETH SAWYER, _gathering sticks._ _Saw._ And why on me? why should the envious world Throw all their scandalous malice upon me? 'Cause I am poor, deform'd, and ignorant, And like a bow buckled and bent together, By some more strong in mischiefs than myself, Must I for that be made a common sink, For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run into? Some call me Witch, And being ignorant of myself, they go About to teach me how to be one; urging, That my bad tongue (by their bad usage made so) Forespeaks their cattle, doth bewitch their corn, Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse. This they enforce upon me; and in part Make me to credit it; and here comes one Of my chief adversaries. _Enter_ Old BANKS. _Banks._ Out, out upon thee, witch! _Saw._ Dost call me witch? _Banks._ I do, witch, I do; and worse I would, knew I a name more hateful. What makest thou upon my ground? _Saw._ Gather a few rotten sticks to warm me. _Banks._ Down with them when I bid thee, quickly; I'll make thy bones rattle in thy skin else. _Saw._ You won't, churl, cut-throat, miser!--there they be; [_Throws them down._] would they stuck across thy throat, thy bowels, thy maw, thy midriff. _Banks._ Say'st thou me so, hag? Out of my ground! [_Beats her._ _Saw._ Dost strike me, slave, curmudgeon! Now thy bones aches, thy joints cramps, and convulsions stretch and crack thy sinews! _Banks._ Cursing, thou hag! take that, and that. [_Beats her, and exit._ _Saw._ Strike, do!--and wither'd may that hand and arm Whose blows have lamed me, drop from the rotten trunk! Abuse me! beat me! call me hag and witch! What is the name? where, and by what art learn'd, What spells, what charms or invocations? May the thing call'd Familiar be purchased? * * * * * _Saw._ Still vex'd! still tortured! that curmudgeon Banks Is ground of all my scandal; I am shunn'd And hated like a sickness; made a scorn To all degrees and sexes. I have heard old beldams Talk of familiars in the shape of mice, Rats, ferrets, weasels, and I wot not what, That have appear'd, and suck'd, some say, their blood; But by what means they came acquainted with them, I am now ignorant. Would some power, good or bad, Instruct me which way I might be revenged Upon this churl, I'd go out of myself, And give this fury leave to dwell within This ruin'd cottage, ready to fall with age! Abjure all goodness, be at hate with prayer, And study curses, imprecations, Blasphemous speeches, oaths, detested oaths, Or anything that's ill; so I might work Revenge upon this miser, this black cur, That barks and bites, and sucks the very blood Of me, and of my credit. 'Tis all one, To be a witch, as to be counted one: Vengeance, shame, ruin light upon that canker! _Enter a_ Black Dog. _Dog._ Ho! have I found thee cursing? now thou art Mine own. _Saw._ Thine! what art thou? _Dog._ He thou hast so often Importuned to appear to thee, the devil. _Saw._ Bless me! the devil! _Dog._ Come, do not fear; I love thee much too well To hurt or fright thee; if I seem terrible, It is to such as hate me. I have found Thy love unfeign'd; have seen and pitied Thy open wrongs, and come, out of my love, To give thee just revenge against thy foes. _Saw._ May I believe thee? _Dog._ To confirm't, command me Do any mischief unto man or beast. And I'll effect it, on condition That, uncompell'd, thou make a deed of gift Of soul and body to me. _Saw._ Out, alas! My soul and body? _Dog._ And that instantly, And seal it with thy blood: if thou deniest, I'll tear thy body in a thousand pieces. _Saw._ I know not where to seek relief: but shall I, After such covenants seal'd, see full revenge On all that wrong me? _Dog._ Ha, ha! silly woman! The devil is no liar to such as he loves-- Didst ever know or hear the devil a liar To such as he affects? _Saw._ Then I am thine; at least so much of me As I can call mine own-- _Dog._ Equivocations? Art mine or no? speak, or I'll tear-- _Saw._ All thine. _Dog._ Seal't with thy blood. [_She pricks her arm, which he sucks.--Thunder and lightning._ See! now I dare call thee mine! For proof, command me: instantly I'll run To any mischief; goodness can I none. _Saw._ And I desire as little. There's an old churl, One Banks-- _Dog._ That wrong'd thee: he lamed thee, call'd thee witch. _Saw._ The same; first upon him I'd be revenged. _Dog._ Thou shalt; do but name how? _Saw._ Go, touch his life. _Dog._ I cannot. _Saw._ Hast thou not vow'd? Go, kill the slave! _Dog._ I will not. _Saw._ I'll cancel then my gift. _Dog._ Ha, ha! _Saw._ Dost laugh! Why wilt not kill him? _Dog._ Fool, because I cannot. Though we have power, know, it is circumscribed, And tied in limits: though he be curst to thee, Yet of himself, he is loving to the world, And charitable to the poor; now men, that, As he, love goodness, though in smallest measure, Live without compass of our reach: his cattle And corn I'll kill and mildew; but his life (Until I take him, as I late found thee, Cursing and swearing) I have no power to touch. _Saw._ Work on his corn and cattle then. _Dog._ I shall. The WITCH OF EDMONTON shall see his fall. _Ford's Plays_, edit. 1839, p. 190. B 3 _a_. "_Alizon Device._"] Device is merely the common name Davies spelled as pronounced in the neighbourhood of Pendle. B 3 _b_. "_Is to make a picture of clay._"] _Hecate._ What death is't you desire for Almachildes? _Duchess._ A sudden and a subtle. _Hecate._ Then I've fitted you. Here be the gifts of both; sudden and subtle: His picture made in wax and gently molten By a blue fire kindled with dead men's eyes Will waste him by degrees. _Duchess._ In what time, prithee? _Hecate._ Perhaps in a moon's progress. _Middleton's Witch_, edit. 1778, p. 100. None of the offices in the Witches rubric had higher classical warrant than this method, a favourite one, it appears, of Mother Demdike, but in which Anne Redfern had the greatest skill of any of these Pendle witches, of victimizing by moulding and afterwards pricking or burning figures of clay representing the individual whose life was aimed at. Horace, Lib. i. Sat. 8, mentions both waxen and woollen images-- Lanea et effigies erat altera cerea, &c. And it appears from Tacitus, that the death of Germanicus was supposed to have been sought by similar practices. By such a Simulachrum, or image, the person was supposed to be devoted to the infernal deities. According to the Platonists, the effect produced arose from the operation of the sympathy and synergy of the Spiritus Mundanus, (which Plotinus calls [Greek: ton megan goêta] [Transcriber's Note: typo "t" for "ton" in original Greek], the grand magician,) such as they resolve the effect of the weaponsalve and other magnetic cures into. The following is the Note in Brand on this part of witchcraft:-- King James, in his "Dæmonology," book ii., chap. 5, tells us, that "the Devil teacheth how to make pictures of wax or clay, that, by roasting thereof, the persons that they bear the name of may be continually melted or dried away by continual sickness." See Servius on the 8th Eclogue of Virgil; Theocritus, Idyll, ii., 22; Hudibras, part II., canto ii., l. 351. Ovid says: "Devovet absentes, simulachraque cerea figit Et miserum tenues in jecur urget acus." _Heroid._ Ep. vi., l. 91. See also "Grafton's Chronicle," p. 587, where it is laid to the charge (among others) of Roger Bolinbrook, a cunning necromancer, and Margery Jordane, the cunning Witch of Eye, that they, at the request of Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, had devised an image of wax, representing the king, (Henry the Sixth,) which by their sorcery a little and a little consumed; intending thereby in conclusion to waste and destroy the king's person. Shakspeare mentions this, Henry VI., P. II., act i., sc. 4. It appears, from Strype's "Annals of the Reformation,", vol. i., p. 8, under anno 1558, that Bishop Jewel, preaching before the queen, said, "It may please your grace to understand that witches and sorcerers within these few last years are marvellously increased within your grace's realm. Your grace's subjects pine away, even unto the death; their colour fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft. I pray God they never practise _further than upon the subject_." "This," Strype adds, "I make no doubt was the occasion of bringing in a bill, the next parliament, for making enchantments and witchcraft felony." One of the bishop's strong expressions is, "_These eyes have seen_ most evident and manifest marks of their wickedness." It appears from the same work, vol. iv., p. 6, sub anno 1589, that "one Mrs. Dier had practised conjuration against the queen, to work some mischief to her majesty; for which she was brought into question: and accordingly her words and doings were sent to Popham, the queen's attorney, and Egerton, her solicitor, by Walsingham, the secretary, and Sir Thomas Heneage, her vice-chamberlain, for their judgment, whose opinion was that Mrs. Dier was not within the compass of the statute touching witchcraft, for that she did no act, and spake certain lewd speeches tending to that purpose, but neither set figure nor made pictures." _Ibid._, vol. ii., p. 545, sub anno 1578, Strype says: "Whether it were the effect of magic, or proceeded from some natural cause, but the queen was in some part of this year under excessive anguish _by pains of her teeth_, insomuch that she took no rest for divers nights, and endured very great torment night and day." Andrews, in his "Continuation of Henry's History of Great Britain," 4to, p. 93, tells us, speaking of Ferdinand, Earl of Derby, who in the reign of Queen Elizabeth died by poison, "The credulity of the age attributed his death to witchcraft. The disease was odd, and operated as a perpetual emetic; and a _waxen image, with hair like that of the unfortunate earl_, found in his chamber, reduced every suspicion to certainty." "The wife of Marshal d'Ancre was apprehended, imprisoned, and beheaded for a witch, upon a surmise that she had inchanted the queen to dote upon her husband; and they say the young king's picture was found in her closet, in virgin wax, with one leg melted away. When asked by her judges what spells she had made use of to gain so powerful an ascendancy over the queen, she replied, 'that ascendancy only which strong minds ever gain over weak ones.'" Seward's "Anecdotes of some Distinguished Persons," &c., vol. ii., p. 215. Blagrave, in his "Astrological Practice of Physick," p. 89, observes that "the way which the witches usually take for to afflict man or beast in this kind is, as I conceive, done by image or model, made in the likeness of that man or beast they intend to work mischief upon, and by the subtlety of the devil made at such hours and times when it shall work most powerfully upon them, by thorn, pin, or needle, pricked into that limb or member of the body afflicted." This is farther illustrated by a passage in one of Daniel's Sonnets: "The slie inchanter, when to work his will And secret wrong on some forspoken wight, Frames waxe, in forme to represent aright The poore unwitting wretch he meanes to kill, And prickes the image, framed by magick's skill, Whereby to vex the partie day and night." _Son. 10; from Poems and Sonnets annexed to "Astrophil and Stella_," 4to, 1591. Again, in "Diaria, or the Excellent Conceitful Sonnets of H.C.," (Henry Constable,) 1594: "Witches, which some murther do intend, Doe make a picture, and doe shoote at it; And in that part where they the picture hit, The parties self doth languish to his end." _Decad. II., Son. ii._ Coles, in his "Art of Simpling," &c., p. 66, says that witches "take likewise the roots of mandrake, according to some, or, as I rather suppose, the _roots of briony_, which simple folke take for the true mandrake, and make thereof an ugly image, by which they represent the person on whom they intend to exercise their witchcraft." He tells us, _ibid._, p. 26, "Some plants have roots with a number of threads, like beards, as mandrakes, whereof witches and impostors make an ugly image, giving it the form of the face at the top of the root, and leave those strings to make a broad beard down to the feet."--_Brand's Antiquities_, vol. iii. p. 9. Ben Johnson has not forgotten this superstition in his learned and fanciful _Masque of Queens_, in which so much of the lore of witchcraft is embodied. There are few finer things in English poetry than his 3rd Charm:-- The owl is abroad, the bat, and the toad, And so is the cat-a-mountain, The ant and the mole sit both in a hole, And the frog peeps out o' the fountain; The dogs they do bay, and the timbrels play, The spindle is now a turning; The moon it is red, and the stars are fled, But all the sky is a burning: The ditch is made, and our nails the spade, _With pictures full, of wax and of wool; Their livers I stick, with needles quick;_ There lacks but the blood, to make up the flood. Quickly, dame, then bring your part in, Spur, spur upon little Martin, Merrily, merrily, make him sail, A worm in his mouth, and a thorn in his tail, Fire above, and fire below, With a whip in your hand, to make him go. _Ben Johnson's Works, by Gifford_, vol. vii. p. 121. Meric Casaubon, who is always an amusing writer, and whose works, notwithstanding his appetite for the wonderful, do not merit the total oblivion into which they have fallen, is very angry with Jerome Cardan, an author not generally given to scepticism, for the hesitation he displays on the subject of these waxen images:-- I know some who question not the power of devils or witches; yet in this particular are not satisfied how such a thing can be. For there is no relation or sympathy in nature, (saith one, who hath written not many years ago,) between a man and his effigies, that upon the pricking of the one the other should grow sick. It is upon another occasion that he speaks it; but his exception reacheth this example equally. A wonder to me he should so argue, who in many things hath very well confuted the incredulity of others, though in some things too credulous himself. If we must believe nothing but what we can reduce to natural, or, to speak more properly, (for I myself believe the devil doth very little, but by nature, though to us unknown,) manifest causes, he doth overthrow his own grounds, and leaves us but very little of magical operations to believe. But of all men, Cardan had least reason to except against this kind of magick as ridiculous or incredible, who himself is so full of incredible stories in that kind, upon his own credit alone, that they had need to be of very easie belief that believe him, especially when they know (whereof more afterwards) what manner of man he was. But I dare say, that from Plato's time, who, among other appurtenances of magic, doth mention these, [Greek: kêrina mimêmata] [Transcriber's Note: typo "mimkmata" for "mimêmata" in original Greek] that is, as Ovid doth call them, _Simulachra cerea_, or as Horace, _cereas imagines_, (who also in another place more particularly describes them,) there is not any particular rite belonging to that art more fully attested by histories of all ages than this is. Besides, who doth not know that it is the devil's fashion (we shall meet with it afterwards again) to amuse his servants and vassals with many rites and ceremonies, which have certainly no ground in nature, no relation or sympathy to the thing, as for other reasons, so to make them believe, they have a great hand in the production of such and such effects; when, God knows, many times all that they do, though taught and instructed by him, is nothing at all to the purpose, and he, in very deed, is the only agent, by means which he doth give them no account of. Bodinus, in his preface to his "Dæmonology," relateth, that three waxen images, whereof one of Queen Elizabeth's, of glorious memory, and two other, _Reginæ proximorum_, of two courtiers, of greatest authority under the queen, were found in the house of a priest at Islington, a magician, or so reputed, to take away their lives. This he doth repeat again in his second book, chap. 8, but more particularly that it was in the year of the Lord 1578, and that Legatus Angliæ and many Frenchmen did divulge it so; but withal, in both places he doth add, that the business was then under trial, and not yet perfectly known. I do not trust my memory: I know my age and my infirmities. Cambden, I am sure, I have read; and read again; but neither in him, nor in Bishop Carleton's "Thankful Remembrancer," do I remember any such thing. Others may, perchance. Yet, in the year 1576, I read in both of some pictures, representing some that would have kill'd that glorious queen with a motto, _Quorsum hæc, alio properantibus!_ which pictures were made by some of the conspiracy for their incouragement; but intercepted, and showed, they say, to the queen. Did the time agree, it is possible these pictures might be the ground of those mistaken, if mistaken, waxen images, which I desire to be taught by others who can give a better account.--_Casaubon's (M.) Treatise, proving Spirits, Witches, and Supernatural Operations_, 1672. 12mo., p. 92. In Scotland this practice was in high favour with witches, both in ancient and modern times. The lamentable story of poor King Duff, as related by Hector Boethius, a story which has blanched the cheek and spoiled the rest of many a youthful reader, is too well known to need extracting. Even so late as 1676, Sir George Maxwell, of Pollock, (See Scott's _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, p. 323,) apparently a man of melancholy and valetudinarian habits, believed himself bewitched to death by six witches, one man and five women, who were leagued for the purpose of tormenting a clay image in his likeness. Five of the accused were executed, and the sixth only escaped on account of extreme youth. Isabel Gowdie, the famous Scotch witch before referred to, in her confessions gives a very particular account of the mode in which these images were manufactured. It is curious, and worth quoting:-- _Johne Taylor_ and _Janet Breadhead_, his wyff, in Bellnakeith, _Bessie Wilsone_, in Aulderne, and _Margret Wilsone_, spows to _Donald Callam_ in Aulderne, and I, maid an pictur of clay, to distroy _the Laird of Parkis_ meall[62] children. _Johne Taylor_ browght hom the clay, in his plaid newk;[63] his wyff brak it verie small, lyk meall,[64] and sifted it with a siew,[65] and powred in water among it, in _the Divellis_ nam, and vrought it werie sore, lyk rye-bowt;[66] and maid of it a pictur of _the Lairdis_ sones. It haid all the pairtis and merkis of a child, such as heid, eyes, nose, handis, foot, mowth, and little lippes. It wanted no mark of a child; and the handis of it folded down by its sydes. It was lyk a pow,[67] or a flain gryce.[68] We laid the face of it to the fyre, till it strakned;[69] and a cleir fyre round abowt it, till it ves read lyk a cole.[70] After that, we wold rest it now and then; each other day[71] ther wold be an piece of it weill rosten. _The Laird of Parkis_ heall maill children by it ar to suffer, if it be not gotten and brokin, als weill as thes that ar borne and dead alreadie. It ves still putt in and taken out of the fyre, in _the Divellis_ name. It wes hung wp wpon an knag. It is yet in _Johne Taylor's_ hows, and it hes a cradle of clay abowt it. Onlie _Johne Taylor_ and his wyff, _Janet Breadhead_, _Bessie_ and _Margret Wilsones_ in Aulderne, and _Margret Brodie_, thair, and I, were onlie at the making of it. All the multitud of our number of WITCHES, of all the COEVENS, kent[72] all of it, at owr nixt meitting after it was maid. The wordis which we spak, quhan we maid the pictur, for distroyeing of _the Laird of Parkis_ meall-children, wer thus: 'IN THE DIVELLIS nam, we powr in this water among this mowld (meall,)[73] For lang duyning and ill heall; We putt it into the fyre, That it mey be brunt both stik and stowre. It salbe brunt, with owr will, As any stikle[74] wpon a kill.' THE DIVELL taught ws the wordis; and quhan ve haid learned them, we all fell downe wpon owr bare kneyis, and owr hair abowt owr eyes, and owr handis lifted wp, looking steadfast wpon THE DIVELL, still saying the wordis thryse ower, till it wes maid. And then, in THE DIVELLIS nam, we did put it in, in the midst of the fyre. Efter it had skrukned[75] a little before the fyre, and quhan it ves read lyk a coale, we took it owt in THE DIVELLIS nam. Till it be broken, it will be the deathe of all the meall children that _the Laird of Park_ will ewer get. Cast it ower an Kirk, it will not brak quhill[76] it be broken with an aix, or som such lyk thing, be a man's handis. If it be not broken, it will last an hundreth yeir. It hes ane cradle about it of clay, to preserue it from skaith;[77] and it wes rosten each vther day, at the fyr; som tymes on pairt of it, som tymes an vther pairt of it; it vold be a litle wat with water, and then rosten. The bairn vold be brunt and rosten, ewin as it ves by ws.--_Pitcairne's Criminal Trials_, Vol. iii. pp. 605 and 612. [Footnote 62: Male.] [Footnote 63: In the nook, or corner, of his plaid.] [Footnote 64: Pounded, or powdered it, like meal.] [Footnote 65: To make the plaster fine, and free from earthy particles.] [Footnote 66: Probably a sort of stir-about, or hasty-pudding, made of rye-flour.] [Footnote 67: In another deposition it is thus expressed, 'lyk a _pow or feadge_.' A _feadge_ was a sort of _scone_, or roll, of a pretty large size. Perhaps this term signifies, as large as the quantity of dough or paste necessary for making this kind of bread.] [Footnote 68: A flayed sucking pig, after being scalded and scraped.] [Footnote 69: Shrivelled with the heat.] [Footnote 70: Red like a coal.] [Footnote 71: Each alternate day.] [Footnote 72: Knew.] [Footnote 73: It is written _meall_ in the other Confession; and the metre (such as it is) requires this liberty. _Mowld_ signifies 'earth' or 'dust.'] [Footnote 74: Stubble.] [Footnote 75: Parched; shrivelled.] [Footnote 76: Until.] [Footnote 77: Harm; injury.] B 4 _b_ 1. "_And sayd that she should haue gould, siluer, and worldly wealth at her will._"] These familiars, to use Warburton's expression, always promised with the lavishness of a young courtier, and performed with the indifference of an old one. Nothing seems to puzzle Dr. Dee more, in the long and confidential intercourse he carried on so many years with his spirits, than to account for the great scarcity of specie they seemed to be afflicted with, and the unsatisfactory and unfurnished state of their exchequer. Bills, to be sure, they gave at long dates; but these constantly required renewing, and were never honoured at last. Any application for present relief, in good current coin of the realm, was invariably followed by what Meric Casaubon very significantly calls "sermonlike stuff." The learned professor in witchery, John Stearne, seems to fix six shillings as the maximum of money payment at one time which in all his experience he had detected between witches and their familiars. He was examining Joan Ruccalver, of Powstead, in Suffolk, who had been promised by her spirit that she should never want meat, drink, clothes, or money. "Then I asked her whether they brought her any money or no; and she said sometimes four shillings at a time, and sometimes six shillings at a time; but that is but seldom, _for I never knew any that had any money before_, except of Clarke's wife, of Manningtree, who confessed the same, and showed some, which, she said, her impe brought her, which was proper money." Confirmation, page 27. Judging from the anxiety which this worthy displays to be "satisfied and paid with reason" for his itinerant labours, such a scanty and penurious supply would soon have disgusted him, if he had been witch, instead of witch-finder. B 4 _b_ 2. "_She had bewitched to death Richard Ashton, sonne of Richard Ashton, of Downeham, Esquire._"] Richard Assheton, (as the name is more properly spelled,) thus done to death by witchcraft, was the son of Richard Assheton, of Downham, an old manor house, the scite of which is now supplied by a modern structure, which Dr. Whitaker thinks, in point of situation, has no equal in the parish of Whalley. Richard, the son, married Isabel, daughter and heiress of Mr. Hancock, of Pendleton Hall, and died without offspring. The family estate accordingly descended to the younger brother, Nicholas Assheton, whose diary for part of the year 1617 and part of the year following is given, page 303 of Whitaker's _History of Whalley_, edition 1818, and is a most valuable record of the habits, pursuits, and course of life of a Lancashire country gentleman of that period. It well deserves detaching in a separate publication, and illustrating with a more expanded commentary. C _b_. "_Piggin full._"] Piggin is properly a sort of bowl, or pail, with one of the staves much longer than the rest, made for a handle, to lade water by, and used especially in brewhouses to measure out the liquor with. C 2 _a_. "_Nicholas Banister._"] Dr. Whitaker, in the pedigree of the Banisters, of Altham, (genealogy was, it is well known, one of the vulnerable parts of this Achilles of topography,) erroneously states this Nicholas Banister to have been buried at Altham, December 7, 1611. It appears, however, from a deed, an inspection of which I owe to the kindness of my friend, Dr. Fleming, that his will was dated the 15th August, 1612. In all probability he did not die for some years after that date. He married, first, Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Richard Elston, of Brockall, Esq.; and, second, Catherine, daughter of Edmund Ashton, of Chaderton, Esq. The manor house of Altham, for more than five centuries the residence of this ancient family, stands, to use Dr. Whitaker's words, upon a gentle elevation on the western side of the river Calder, commanding a low and fertile domain. It has been surrounded, according to the prudence or jealousy of the feudal times, with a very deep quadrangular moat, which must have included all the apparatus of the farm. C 3 _a_. "_At Malking Tower, in the forrest of Pendle._"] Malkin Tower was the habitation of Mother Demdike, the situation of which is preserved, for the structure no longer exists, by local tradition. Malkin is the Scotch or north country word for hare, as this animal was one into which witches were supposed to be fond of transforming themselves. Malkin Tower is, in fact, the Witches' Tower. The term is used in the following passage in Morison's _Poems_, p. 7, which bears upon the above explanation:-- "Or tell the pranks o' winter's nights, How Satan blazes uncouth lights; Or how he does a core convene Upon a witch-frequented green, Wi' spells and cauntrips hellish rantin', Like mawkins thro' the fields they're janting." C 4 _b_. "_We want old Demdike, who dyed in the castle before she came to her tryall._"] Worn out most probably with her imprisonment, she having been committed in April, and the cruelties she had undergone, both before and after her commitment. Master Nowell and Master Potts both _wanted_ her, we may readily conceive, to fill up the miserable pageant; but she was gone where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. With the exception of Alice Nutter, in whom interest is excited from very different grounds, Mother Demdike attracts attention in a higher degree than any other of these Pendle witches. She was, beyond dispute, the Erictho of Pendle. Mother Chattox was but second in rank. There is something fearfully intense in the expression of the former,--blind, on the last verge of the extreme limit of human existence, and mother of a line of witches,--"that she would pray for the said Baldwin, both still and loud." She is introduced in Shadwell's play, the _Lancashire Witches_, 1682, as a _persona dramatis_, along with Mother Dickinson and Mother Hargrave, two of the witches convicted in 1633, but without any regard to the characteristic circumstances under which she appears in the present narrative. The following invocation, which is put into her mouth, is rather a favourable specimen of that play, certainly not one of the worst of Shadwell's, in which there are many vigorous strokes, with an alloy of coarseness not unusual in his works, and some powerful conceptions of character: Come, sisters, come, why do you stay? Our business will not brook delay; The owl is flown from the hollow oak, From lakes and bogs the toads do croak; The foxes bark, the screech-owl screams, Wolves howl, bats fly, and the faint beams Of glow-worms light grows bright a-pace; The stars are fled, the moon hides her face. The spindle now is turning round, Mandrakes are groaning under ground: I'th' hole i'th' ditch (our nails have made) Now all our images are laid, Of wax and wooll, which we must prick, With needles urging to the quick. Into the hole I'le poure a flood Of black lambs bloud, to make all good. The lamb with nails and teeth wee'l tear. Come, where's the sacrifice? appear. * * * * * Oyntment for flying here I have, Of childrens fat, stoln from the grave: The juice of smallage, and night-shade, Of poplar leaves, and aconite, made With these. The aromatic reed I boyl, With water-parsnip and cinquefoil; With store of soot, and add to that The reeking blood of many a bat. _Lancashire Witches_, pp. 10, 41. One of the peculiarities of Shadwell's play is the introduction of the Lancashire dialect, which he makes his clown Clod speak. The subjoined extract may perhaps amuse my readers. Collier would have enjoyed it: _Clod._ An yeow been a mon Ay'st talk wy ye a bit, yeow mun tack a care o your sells, the plecs haunted with Buggarts, and Witches, one of 'em took my Condle and Lanthorn out of my hont, and flew along wy it; and another Set me o top o'th tree, where I feel dawn now, Ay ha well neegh brocken my theegh. _Doubt._ The fellows mad, I neither understand his words, nor his Sence, prethee how far is it to Whalley? _Clod._ Why yeow are quite besaid th' road mon, yeow Shoulden a gon dawn th' bonk by _Thomas_ o _Georges_, and then ee'n at yate, and turn'd dawn th' Lone, and left the Steepo o'th reeght hont. _Bell._ Prithee don't tell us what we should have done, but how far is it to Whalley? _Clod._ Why marry four mail and a bit. _Doubt._ Wee'l give thee an Angel and show us the way thither. _Clod._ Marry thats Whaint. I canno see my hont, haw con Ay show yeow to Whalley to neeght. _Bell._ Canst thou show us to any house where we may have Shelter and Lodging to night? we are Gentlemen and strangers, and will pay you well for't. _Clod._ Ay byr Lady con I, th' best ludging and diet too in aw Lancashire. Yonder at th' hough where yeow seen th' leeghts there. _Doubt._ Whose house is that? _Clod._ Why what a pox, where han yeow lived? why yeow are Strongers indeed! why, 'tis Sir _Yedard Harfourts_, he Keeps oppen hawse to all Gentry, yeou'st be welcome to him by day and by neeght he's Lord of aw here abauts. _Bell._ My Mistresses Father, Luck if it be thy will, have at my _Isabella_, Canst thou guide us thither? _Clod._ Ay, Ay, there's a pawer of Company there naw, Sir _Jeffery Shaklehead_, and the Knight his Son, and Doughter. _Doubt._ Lucky above my wishes, O my dear _Theodosia_, how my heart leaps at her! prethee guide us thither, wee'l pay thee well. _Clod._ Come on, I am e'n breed aut o my sences, I was ne'er so freeghtened sin I was born, give me your hont.--_Lancashire Witches_, p. 14. D _b_. "_Ann Whittle, alias Chattox._"] Chattox, from her continually chattering. D 2 _a_ 1. "_Her lippes euer chattering and walking._"] Walking, _i.e._, working. Old Chattox might have sat to Archbishop Harsnet for her portrait. What can exceed the force and graphic truth, the searching wit and sarcasm, of the picture he sketches in 1605? Out of these is shaped vs the true _Idoea_ of a Witch, an old weather-beaten Croane, hauing her chinne, & her knees meeting for age, walking like a bow leaning on a shaft, hollow eyed, vntoothed, furrowed on her face, hauing her lips trembling with the palsie, going mumbling in the streetes, one that hath forgott[=e] her _pater noster_, and hath yet a shrewd tongue in her head, to call a drab, a drab. If shee haue learned of an olde wife in a chimnies end: _Pax, max, fax_, for a spel: or can say Sir _Iohn of Grantams_ curse, for the Millers Eeles, that were stolne: All you that haue stolne the Millers Eeles, _Laudate dominum de coelis_: And all they that haue consented thereto, _benedicamus domino_: Why then ho, beware, looke about you my neighbours; if any of you haue a sheepe sicke of the giddies, or an hogge of the mumps, or an horse of the staggers, or a knauish boy of the schoole, or an idle girle of the wheele, or a young drab of the sullens, and hath not fat enough for her porredge, nor her father, and mother, butter enough for their bread; and she haue a little helpe of the _Mother_, _Epilepsie_, or _Cramp_, to teach her role her eyes, wrie her mouth, gnash her teeth, startle with her body, holde her armes and hands stiffe, make anticke faces, grine, mow, and mop like an Ape, tumble like a Hedge-hogge, and can mutter out two or three words of gibridg, as _obus, bobus_: and then with-all old mother _Nobs_ hath called her by chaunce, idle young huswife, or bid the deuill scratch her, then no doubt but mother _Nobs_ is the Witch: the young girle is Owle-blasted, and possessed: and it goes hard but ye shall haue some idle adle, giddie, lymphaticall, illuminate dotrel, who being out of credite, learning, sobriety, honesty, and wit, will take this holy aduantage, to raise the ruines of his desperate decayed name, and for his better glory wil be-pray the iugling drab, and cast out _Mopp_ the deuil. They that haue their braines baited, and their fancies distempered with the imaginations, and apprehensions of Witches, Coniurers, and Fayries, and all that Lymphatical _Chimæra_: I finde to be marshalled in one of these fiue rankes, children, fooles, women, cowards, sick, or blacke, melancholicke, discomposed wits. The Scythians being a warlike Nation (as _Plutarch_ reports) neuer saw any visions.--_Harsnet's Declaration_, p. 136. D 2 _a_ 2. "_From these two sprung all the rest in order._"] The descent from these two rival witch stocks, between which a deadly feud and animosity prevailed, which led to the destruction of both families, is shewn as follows: Elizabeth Sothernes, alias Old Demdike, died in prison in 1612, about 80 years old. 1 | 2 ------------------------------ | | Christopher = Eliz. Elizabeth, executed = John Device, or Howgate. Both of at Lancaster, | Davies, supposed them were reputed 1612. | to have been bewitched to be at the witches | to death, meeting on Good | by Widow Chattox, Friday, 1612, but | because he had not were not indicted. | paid her his yearly Perhaps they were | aghen dole of meal. the "one Holgate | and his wife" mentioned | amongst the | witches in 1633. | 1 2 | 3 --------------------------------------------------- | | | James Device, or Alizon, executed Jennet, 9 years old Davies, executed at at Lancaster in 1612. in 1612, and an evidence Lancaster in 1612. in the present trial. Condemned herself, along with 16 other persons, for witchcraft, in 1633, when she appears to have been unmarried, but not executed. Anne Whittle, alias Chattox, executed at Lancaster, 1612, about 80 years old. | Anne, executed = Thomas Redferne. in 1612. | | Mary. D 3 _a_. "_Commaunded this examinate to call him by the name of Fancie._"] The fittest name for a familiar she could possibly have chosen. Sir Walter Scott (_Letters on Demonology_, p. 242) unaccountably speaks of Fancie as a female devil. Master Potts would have told him, (see M 2 _b_,) "that Fancie had a very good face, and was a very proper man." D 3 _b_ 1. "_The wife of Richard Baldwin, of Pendle._"] Richard Baldwin was the miller who accosted Old Dembdike so unceremoniously. D 3 _b_ 2. "_Robert Nutter._"] The family of the Nutters, of Pendle, bore a great share in the proceedings referred to in this trial. It seems to have been a family of note amongst the inferior gentry or yeomanry of the forest. A Nutter held courts for many years about this period, as deputy steward at Clitheroe. (See Whitaker's _Whalley_, p. 307.) Three of the name are stated in the evidence to have been killed by witchcraft, Christopher Nutter, Robert Nutter, and Anne, the daughter of Anthony Nutter; and one of the unfortunate persons convicted is Alice Nutter. The branch to which Robert belonged is shewn in the following table: Robert Nutter, the elder, = Elizabeth, who is reputed of Pendle, called old | to have employed Anne Robert Nutter. | Chattox, Loomeshaw's | wife, and Jane Boothman | to bewitch to death young | Robert Nutter, that other | relations might inherit. | Christopher, reputed to have died of witchcraft about 18 years before. | 1 | 2 3 ------------------------------------------------------ | | | Robert, of Greenhead, = Mary John, of Higham Margaret = Crooke in Pendle, a retainer Booth. | of Sir Richard | | Shuttleworth, --------------------------- reputed to have been gave evidence at the trial. bewitched to death 18 or 19 years before the trial took place. D 4 _a_. "_One Mr. Baldwyn (the late Schoole-maister at Coulne) did by his learning, stay the sayd Loomeshaws wife, and therefore had a Capon from Redfearne._"] I regret that I can give no account of this learned Theban, who appears to have stayed the plague, and who taught at the school at which Archbishop Tillotson was afterwards educated. He well deserved his capon. Had he continued at Colne up to the time of this trial, he might perhaps, on the same easy terms, have kept the powers of darkness in check, and prevented some imputed crimes which cost ten unfortunates their lives. E _b_ 1. "_Iames Robinson._"] Baines, in his _History of Lancashire_, vol. i. p. 605, speaks of Edmund Robinson, the father of the boy on whose evidence the witches were convicted in 1633, as if he had been a witness at the present trial; which is probably a mistake for this James Robinson, as no Edmund Robinson appears amongst the witnessses whose depositions are given. E _b_ 2. "_Anne Whittle alias Chattox was hired by this examinates wife to card wooll._"] She seems to have been by occupation a carder of wool, and to have filled up the intervals, when she had no employment, by mendicancy. E 2 _a_. "_Sir Richard Shuttleworth._"} Of the family of the Shuttleworths of Gawthorp, "where they resided" Whitaker observes, "in the condition of inferior gentry till the lucrative profession of the law raised them, in the reign of Elizabeth, to the rank of knighthood and an estate proportioned to its demands." Sir Richard was Sergeant-at-law, and Chief Justice of Chester, 31st Elizabeth, and died without issue about 1600. E 2 _b_. "_A Charme._"] Evidently in so corrupted a state as to bid defiance to any attempt at elucidation. E 3 _a_ 1. "_Perceiuing Anthonie Nutter of Pendle to fauour Elizabeth Sothernes alias Dembdike._"] The Sothernes and Davies's and the Whittles and Redfernes were the Montagus and Capulets of Pendle. The poor cottager whose drink was forsepoken or bewitched, or whose cow went mad, and who in his attempt to propitiate one of the rival powers offended the other, would naturally exclaim from the innermost recesses of his heart, "A plague on both your houses." E 3 _a_ 2. "_Gaping as though he would haue wearied this Examinate._"] Wearied for worried. E 3 _b_. "_Examination of Iames Device._"] This is a very curious examination. The production of the four teeth and figure of clay dug up at the west-end of Malkin Tower would look like a "damning witness" to the two horror-struck justices and the assembled concourse at Read, who did not perhaps consider how easily such evidences may be furnished, and how readily they who hide may find. The incident deposed to at the burial at the New Church in Pendle is a wild and striking one. E 4 _a_. "_About eleuen yeares agoe, this Examinate and her mother had their firehouse broken._"] The inference intended is, that Whittle's family committed the robbery from Old Demdike's house. This was, in all probability, the origin of their feuds. The abstraction of the coif and band, tempting articles to the young daughter of Old Chattox, not destitute, if we may judge from one occurrence deposed to, of personal attractions, may be said to have convulsed Lancashire from the Leven to the Mersey,--to have caused a sensation, the shock of which, after more than two centuries, has scarcely yet subsided, and to have actually given a new name to the fair sex. E 4 _b_ 1. "_One Aghen-dole of meale._"] This Aghen-dole, a word still, I believe, in use for a particular measure of any article, was, I presume, a kind of witches' black mail. My friend, the Rev. Canon Parkinson, informs me that Aghen-dole, sometimes pronounced Acken-dole, signifies an half-measure of anything, from half-hand-dole. Mr. Halliwell has omitted it in his Glossary, now in progress. E 4 _b_ 2. "_Iohn Moore of Higham, Gentleman._"] Sir Jonas Moore, of whom an account is contained in Whitaker's _Whalley_, p. 479, and whom he characterizes as a sanguine projector, was born in Pendle Forest, and was probably of this family. E 4 _b_ 3. "_She would meet with the said Iohn Moore, or his._"] i.e. She would be equal with him. F _a_ 1. "_Charne._"] i.e. Charm. F _a_ 2. "_With weeping teares she humbly acknowledged them to be true._"] She seems to have confessed in the hope of saving her daughter, Anne Redfern. But from such a judge as Sir Edward Bromley, mercy was as little to be expected as common sense from his "faithful chronicler," Thomas Potts. F 2 _b_. "_Sparing no man with fearefull execrable curses and banning._"] Nothing seems to shock the nerves of these witch historiographers so much as the utter want of decorum and propriety exhibited by these unhappy creatures in giving vent to these indignant outbreaks, which a sense of the wicked injustice of their fate, and seeing their own offspring brought up in evidence against them, through the most detestable acts, and by the basest subornation, would naturally extort from minds even of iron mould. If ever Lear's or Timon's power of malediction could be justifiably called into exercise, it would be against such a tribunal and such witnesses as they had generally to encounter. F 4 _a_. "_That at the third time her Spirit._"] Something seems to be wanting here, as she does not state what occurred at the two previous interviews. The learned judge may have exercised a sound discretion in this omission, as the particulars might be of a nature unfit for publication. The present tract is, undoubtedly, remarkably free from those disgusting details of which similar reports are generally full to overflowing. F 4 _b_. "_The said Iennet Deuice, being a yong Maide, about the age of nine yeares._"] This child must have been admirably trained, (some Master Thomson might have been near at hand to instruct her,) or must have had great natural capacity for deception. She made an excellent witness on this occasion. What became of her after the wholesale extinction of her family, to which she was so mainly instrumental, is not now known. In all likelihood she dragged on a miserable existence, a forlorn outcast, pointed at by the hand of scorn, or avoided with looks of horror in the wilds of Pendle. As if some retributive punishment awaited her, she is reported to have been the Jennet Davies who was condemned in 1633, on the evidence of Edmund Robinson the younger, with Mother Dickenson and others, but not executed. Her confession, if she made one at the second trial, might not have been unsimilar to that of Alexander Sussums, of Melford in Suffolk, who, Hearne tells us, confessed "that he had things which did draw those marks I found upon him, but said he could not help it, for that all his kinred were naught. Then I asked him how it was possible they could suck without his consent. He said he did consent to that. Then I asked him again why he should do it when as God was so merciful towards him, as I then told him of, being a man whom I had been formerly acquainted withal, as having lived in town. He answered again, he could not help it, for that all his generation was naught; and so told me _his mother and aunt were hanged, his grandmother burnt for witchcraft, and ten others of them questioned and hanged_. This man is yet living, notwithstanding he confessed the sucking of such things above sixteen years together."--_Confirmation_, p. 36. G 3 _a_. "_Anne Crouckshey._"] Anne Cronkshaw. G 3 _b_ 1. "_Vpon Good Friday last there was about twentie persons._"] This meeting, if not a witches' Sabbath, was a close approximation to one. On the subject of the Sabbath, or periodical meeting of witches, De Lancre is the leading authority. He who is curious cannot do better than consult this great hierophant, (his work is entitled Tableau de l'Inconstance des mauvais Anges et Demons. Paris, 1613, 4to.) whose knowledge and experience well qualified him to have been constituted the Itinerant Master of Ceremonies, an officer who, he assures us, was never wanting on such occasions. In that singular book, _The History of Monsieur Oufle_, p. 288, (English Translation, 1711, 8vo.) are collected from various sources all the ceremonies and circumstances attending the holding the Sabbath. It appears that non-attendance invariably incurred a penalty, which is computed upon the average at the eighth part of a crown, or in French currency at ten sous--that, though the contrary has been maintained by many grave authors, egress and ingress by the chimney (De Lancre had depositions without number, he tells us, _vide_ p. 114, on this important head,) was not a matter of solemn obligation, but was an open question--that no grass ever grows upon the place where the Sabbath is kept; which is accounted for by the circumstance of its being trodden by so many of those whose feet are constitutionally hot, and therefore being burnt up and consequently very barren--that two devils of note preside on the occasion, the great negro, who is called Master Leonard, and a little devil, whom Master Leonard sometimes substitutes in his place as temporary vice-president; his name is Master John Mullin. (De Lancre, p. 126.) With regard to a very important point, the bill of fare, great difference of opinion exists: some maintaining that every delicacy of the season, to use the newspaper phrase, is provided; others stoutly asserting that nothing is served up but toads, the flesh of hanged criminals, dead carcases fresh buried taken out of Churchyards, flesh of unbaptized infants, or beasts which died of themselves--that they never eat with salt, and that their bread is of black millet. (De Lancre, pp. 104, 105.) In this diversity of opinion I can only suggest, that difference of climate, habit, and fashion, might possibly have its weight, and render a very different larder necessary for the witches of Pendle and those of Gascony or Lorrain. The fare of the former on this occasion appears to have been of a very substantial and satisfactory kind, "beef, bacon, and roasted mutton:" the old saying so often quoted by the discontented masters of households applying emphatically in this case:-- "God sends us good meat, but the devil sends cooks." We find in the present report no mention made of the "Dance and provencal song" which formed one great accompaniment of the orgies of the southern witches. Bodin's authority is express, that each, the oldest not excused, was expected to perform a coranto, and great attention was paid to the regularity of the steps. We owe to him the discovery, which is not recorded in any annals of dancing I have met with, that the lavolta, a dance not dissimilar, according to his description, to the polka of the present day, was brought out of Italy into France by the witches at their festive meetings. Of the language spoken at these meetings, De Lancre favours us with a specimen, valuable, like the Punic fragment in the Poenolus, for its being the only one of the kind. _In nomine patrica araguenco petrica agora, agora, Valentia jouando goure gaiti goustia._ As it passes my skill, I can only commend it to the especial notice of Mr. Borrow against his next journey into Spain. What was spoken at Malkin Tower was, doubtless, a dialect not yet obsolete, and which Tummus and Meary would have had no difficulty in comprehending. On the subject of these witches' Sabbaths, Dr. Ferriar remarks, in his curious and agreeable _Essay on Popular Illusions_, (see _Memoirs of the Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society_, vol. iii., p. 68,) a sketch which it is much to be regretted that he did not subsequently expand and revise, and publish in a separate form:-- The solemn meetings of witches are supposed to be put beyond all doubt by the numerous confessions of criminals, who have described their ceremonies, named the times and places of meeting, and the persons present, and who have agreed in their relations, though separately delivered.[78] But I would observe, first, that the circumstances told of those festivals are ridiculous and incredible in themselves; for they are represented as gloomy and horrible, yet with a mixture of childish and extravagant fancies, more likely to disgust and alienate than to conciliate the minds of the guests. They have every appearance of uneasy dreams; sometimes the devil and his subjects _say mass_, sometimes he _preaches_ to them, more commonly he was seen in the form of a black goat, surrounded by imps in a thousand frightful shapes; but none of these forms are _new_, they all resemble known quadrupeds or reptiles. Secondly, I observe, that there is direct proof furnished even by demonologists, that all these supposed journies and entertainments are nothing more than dreams. Persons accused of witchcraft have been repeatedly watched, about the time which they had fixed for the meeting; they have been seen to anoint themselves with soporific compositions, after which they fell into profound sleep, and on awaking, several hours afterwards, they have related their journey through the air, their amusement at the festival, and have named the persons whom they saw there. In the instance told by Hoffman, the dreamer was chained to the floor. Common sense would rest satisfied here, but the enthusiasm of demonology has invented more than one theory to get rid of these untoward facts. Dr. Henry More, as was formerly mentioned, believed that the astral spirit only was carried away: other demonologists imagined that the witch was really removed to the place of meeting, but that a cacodemon was left in her room, as an [Greek: eidôlon], to delude the spectators. Thirdly, some stories of the festivals are evidently tricks. Such is that related by Bodinus, with much gravity: a man is found in a gentleman's cellar, and apprehended as a thief; he declares his wife had brought him thither to a witch-meeting, and on his pronouncing the name of God, she and all her companions had vanished, and left him inclosed. His wife is immediately seized, on this righteous evidence, and hanged, with several other persons, named as present at the meeting. [Footnote 78: There is a grave relation, in Delrio, of a witch being shot flying, by a Spanish centinel, at the bridge of Nieulet, near Calais, after that place was taken by the Spaniards. The soldier saw a black cloud advancing rapidly, from which voices issued: when it came near, he fired into it; immediately a witch dropped. This is _undoubted proof_ of the meetings!--_Disq. Mag._, p. 708.] G 3 _b_ 2. "_Christopher Iackes, of Thorny-holme, and his wife._"] This would appear to be Christopher Hargreaves, called here Christopher Jackes, for o' or of Jack, according to the Lancashire mode of forming patronymics. G 4 _a_. "_The first was, for the naming of the Spirit, which Alizon Deuice, now Prisoner at Lancaster, had: But did not name him, because shee was not there._"] Gaule says, speaking of the ceremonies at the witches' solemn meetings: "If the witch be outwardly Christian, baptism must be renounced, and the party must be rebaptized in the Devil's name, and a new name is also imposed by him; and here must be godfathers too, for the Devil takes them not to be so adult as to promise and vow for themselves." (_Cases of Conscience touching Witches_, page 59. 1646, 12mo.) But Gaule does not mention any naming or baptism of spirits and familiars on such occasions. G 4 _b_. "_Romleyes Moore._"] Romilly's or Rumbles Moor, a wild and mountainous range in Craven, not unaptly selected for a meeting on a special emergency of a conclave of witches. H 2 _a_ 1. "_Was so insensible, weake, and vnable in all thinges, as he could neither speake, heare, or stand, but was holden vp._"] Pitiable, truly, was the situation of this unhappy wretch. Brought out from the restraint of a long imprisonment, before and during which he had, as we may conjecture, been subjected to every inhumanity, in a state more dead than alive, into a court which must have looked like one living mass, with every eye lit up with horror, and curses, not loud but deep, muttered with harmonious concord from the mouths of every spectator. H 2 _a_ 2. "_Anne Towneley, wife of Henrie Townely, of the Carre._"] Would this be Anne, the daughter and co-heiress of Thomas Catterall, of Catterall and Little Mitton, Esq., who married Henry Townley, the son of Lawrence Townley? (See Whitaker's _Whalley_, p. 396.) The Townleys of Barnside and Carr were a branch of the Townleys, of Townley. Barnside, or Barnsete, is an ancient mansion in the township of Colne, which, Whitaker observes, was abandoned by the family, for the warmer situation of Carr, about the middle of the last century. H 2 _a_ 3. "_Master Nowel humbly prayed Master Towneley might be called._"] It is to be regretted we have no copy of the _viva voce_ examination of Mr. Townley, the husband of the lady whose life was said to have been taken away by witchcraft. The examinations given in this tract are altogether those of persons in a humble rank of life. The contrast between their evidence and that of an individual occupying the position of the descendant of one of the oldest families in the neighbourhood, with considerable landed possessions, might have been amusing and instructive. H 2 _a_ 4. "_Master Nowell humbly prayed, that the particular examinations taken before him and others might be openly published and read in court._"] This kind of evidence, the witnesses being in court, and capable of being examined, would not be received at the present day. At that time a greater laxity prevailed. H 3 _a_. "_Sheare Thursday._"] The Thursday before Easter, and so called, for that, in the old Fathers' days, the people would that day, "shave their hedes, and clypp their berdes, and pool their heedes, and so make them honest against Easter Day."--_Brand's Popular Antiquities_, vol. i., p. 83, edition 1841. K _b_ 1. "_A Charme._"] Sinclair, in his _Satan's Invisible World Discovered_, informs us, that "At night, in the time of popery, when folks went to bed, they believed the repetition of this following prayer was effectual to preserve them from danger, and the house too. "Who sains the house the night, They that sains it ilka night. Saint Bryde and her brate, Saint Colme and his hat, Saint Michael and his spear, Keep this house from the weir; From running thief, And burning thief; And from and ill Rea, That be the gate can gae; And from an ill weight, That be the gate can light Nine reeds about the house; Keep it all the night, What is that, what I see So red, so bright, beyond the sea? 'Tis he was pierc'd through the hands, Through the feet, through the throat, Through the tongue; Through the liver and the lung. Well is them that well may Fast on Good-friday." which lines are not unlike some of those in the present "charme," which, evidently much corrupted by recitation, is a very singular and interesting string of fragments handed down from times long anterior to the Reformation, when they had been employed as armour of proof by the credulous vulgar against the Robin Goodfellows, urchins, elves, hags, and fairies of earlier superstition. I regret that I cannot throw more light upon it. The concluding lines are not deficient in poetical spirit. K _b_ 2. "_Ligh in leath wand._"] Leath is no doubt lithe, flexible. What "ligh in" is intended for, unless it be lykinge, which the _Promptorium Parvulorum_ (_vide_ part i. p. 304) explains by lusty, or craske, _Delicativus_, crassus, I am unable to conjecture. It is clear, that the wand in one hand is to steck, _i.e._ stake, or fasten, the latch of hell door, while the key in his other hand is to open heaven's lock. K _b_ 3. "_Let Crizum child goe to it Mother mild._"] The chrisom, according to the usual explanation, was a white cloth placed upon the head of an infant at baptism, when the chrism, or sacred oil of the Romish Church, was used in that sacrament. If the child died within a month of its birth, that cloth was used as a shroud; and children so dying were called chrisoms in the old bills of mortality. K _b_ 4. "_A light so farrandly._"] Farrandly, or farrantly, a word still in use in Lancashire, and which is equivalent to fair, likely, or handsome. (See _Lancashire Dialect and Glossary_.) "Harne panne," _i.e._, cranium.--_Promptorium Parvulorum_, p. 237. K 2 _a_ 1. "_Vpon the ground of holy weepe._"] I know not how to explain this, unless it mean the ground of holy weeping, _i.e._, the Garden of Gethsemane. K 2 _a_ 2. "_Shall neuer deere thee._"] The word to dere, or hurt, says Mr. Way, _Promptorium Parvulorum_, p. 119, is commonly used by Chaucer and most other writers until the sixteenth century: "Fyr he schal hym nevyr dere." _Coeur de Lion_, 1638. Fabyan observes, under the year 1194, "So fast besyed this good Kyng Richarde to vex and dere the infydelys of Sury." Palsgrave gives, "To dere or hurte a noye nuire, I wyll never dere you by my good wyll." Ang. Sax., [Anglo-Saxon: derian] _nocere_, [Anglo-Saxon: derung] _læsio_. K 3 _a_. "_The Witches of Salmesbvry._"] Or, more properly, Samlesbury. This wicked attempt on the part of this priest, or Jesuit, Thompson, _alias_ Southworth, to murder the three persons whose trial is next reported, by suborning a child of the family to accuse them of what, in the excited state of the public mind at the time, was almost certain to consign them to a public execution, has few parallels in the annals of atrocity. The plot was defeated, and the lives of the persons accused, Jennet Bierley, Ellen Bierley, and Jane Southworth, saved, by no sagacity of the judge or wisdom of the jury, but by the effect of one simple question, wrung from the intended victims on the verge of anticipated condemnation, and which, natural as it might appear, was one the felicity of which Garrow or Erskine might have envied. It demolished, like Ithuriel's spear, the whole fabric of imposture, and laid it open even to the comprehension of Sir Edward Bromley and Master Thomas Potts. This was a case which well deserved Archbishop Harsnet for its historian. His vein of irony, which Swift or Echard never surpassed, and the scorching invective of which he was so consummate a master, would have been well employed in handing down to posterity a scene of villainy to which the frauds of Somers and the stratagems of Weston were mere child's play. We might then have had, from the most enlightened man of his age, a commentary on the statute 1st James First, which would have neutralized its mischief, and spared a hecatomb of victims. His resistless ridicule would, perhaps, have accomplished at once what was slowly and with difficulty brought about by the arguments of Scot and Webster, the establishment of the Royal Society, and a century's growth of intelligence and knowledge. K 3 _b_ 1. "_A Seminarie Priest._"] Of this Thompson, _alias_ Southworth, I find no account in Dodd's _Catholic Church History_. A John Southworth is noticed, vol. iii. p. 303, who is described as of an ancient family in Lancashire, and who was executed at Tyburn, June 28th, 1655. His dying speech is to be found in the same volume, p. 360. The interval of time, as well as the difference of surname, excludes the presumption of his being identical with the person referred to in the text, the hero of this extraordinary conspiracy, and who was probably of the family of Sir John Southworth, after mentioned. K 3 _b_ 2. "_A Iesuite, whereof this Countie of Lancaster hath good store._"] Lancashire was, about this period, the great hot-bed of Popish recusants. From the very curious list of recusants given (Baines's _Lancashire_, vol. i. p. 541,) it would seem that Samlesbury was one of their strongholds:-- James Cowper a seminarie prieste receipted releived and mainteined att the lodge of Sir John Southworthe in Samlesburie Parke by Mr. Tho: Southworthe, one of the younger sonnes of the said Sir John. And att the howse of John Warde dwellinge in Samlesburie Park syde. And the said Prieste sayeth Masse att the said lodge and att the said Wards howse. Whether resorte, Mr. Sowthworthe, Mres. An Sowthworthe, John Walmesley servante to Sir John Southworthe, Tho. Southworthe dwellinge in the Parke, John Gerrerde, servante to Sir John Southworthe, John Singleton, John Wrighte, James Sherples iunior, John Warde of Samlesburie, John Warde of Medler thelder, Henrie Potter of Medler, John Gouldon of Winwicke, Thomas Gouldon of the same, Roberte Anderton of Samlesburie and John Sherples of Stanleyhurst in Samlesburie.--_Baines's Lancashire_, vol. i. p. 543. Att the lodge in Samlesburie Parke there be masses daylie and Seminaries dyuerse Resorte thither as James Cowpe, Harrisson Bell and such like, The like vnlawfull meetings are made daylie att the howse of John Warde by the Parke syde of Samlesburie all wiche matters, masses, resorte to Masses, receipting of Seminaries wilbe Justifyed by Mr. Adam Sowtheworthe Thomas Sherples and John Osbaldston.--_Ibid._, p. 544. K 4 _b_. "_Picked her off._"] Threw her off. L _a_. "_Hugh Walshmans._"] The wife of Hugh Walshman, of Samlesbury, is mentioned in the list of recusants; Baines, vol. i. p. 544. L 2 _a_ 1. "_Brought a little child._"] The evidence against the Pendle witches exhibits meagreness and poverty of imagination compared with the accumulated horrors with which the Jesuit, fresh, it may be, from Bodin and Delrio, made his "fire burn and cauldron bubble." With respect to this old story of the magical use made of the corpses of infants, Ben Jonson, in a note on "I had a dagger: what did I with that? Killed an infant to have his fat;" tells us with great gravity: Their killing of infants is common, both for confection of their ointment (whereto one ingredient is the fat boiled, as I have shewed before out of Paracelsus and Porta) as also out of a lust to do murder. _Sprenger in Mal. Malefic._ reports that a witch, a midwife in the diocese of Basil, confessed to have killed above forty infants (ever as they were new born, with pricking them in the brain with a needle) which she had offered to the devil. See the story of the three witches in _Rem. Dæmonola lib. cap._ 3, about the end of the chapter. And M. Phillippo Ludwigus Elich _Quæst._ 8. And that it is no new rite, read the practice of Canidia, _Epod. Horat. lib. ode_ 5, and Lucan, _lib._ 6, whose admirable verses I can never be weary to transcribe:-- Nec cessant à cæde manus, si sanguine vivo Est opus, erumpat jugulo qui primus aperto. Nec refugit cædes, vivum si sacra cruorem Extaque funereæ poscunt trepidantia mensæ. Vulnere si ventris, non quâ natura vocabat, Extrahitur partus calidus ponendus in aris; Et quoties sævis opus est, et fortibus umbris Ipsa facit maneis. Hominum mors omnis in usu est. _Ben Johnson's Works, by Gifford_, vol. vii. p. 130. L 2 _a_ 2. "_They said they would annoint themselues._"] Ben Jonson informs us: When they are to be transported from place to place, they use to anoint themselves, and sometimes the things they ride on. Beside Apul. testimony, see these later, _Remig. Dæmonolatriæ lib._ 1. _cap._ 14. _Delrio, Disquis. Mag. l._ 2. _quæst._ 16. _Bodin Dæmonoman. lib._ 2 _c._ 14. _Barthol. de Spina. quæst. de Strigib. Phillippo Ludwigus Elich. quæst._ 10. _Paracelsus in magn. et occul. Philosophia_, teacheth the confection. _Unguentum ex carne recens natorum infantium, in pulmenti, forma coctum, et cum herbis somniferis, quales sunt Papaver, Solanum, Cicuta_, &c. And _Giov. Bapti. Porta, lib._ 2. _Mag. Natur. cap._ 16.--_Ben Jonson's Works by Gifford_, vol. vii. p. 119. L 3 _a_. "_Did carrie her into the loft._"] There is something in this strange tissue of incoherencies, for knavery has little variety, which forcibly reminds us of the inventions of Elizabeth Canning, who ought to have lived in the days when witchcraft was part of the popular creed. What an admirable witch poor old Mary Squires would have made, and how brilliantly would her persecutor have shone in the days of the Baxters and Glanvilles, who acquitted herself so creditably in those of the Fieldings and the Hills. L 4 _b_ 1. "_Robert Hovlden, Esquire._"] This individual would be of the ancient family of Holden, of Holden, the last male heir of which died without issue, 1792. (See Whitaker's _Whalley_, 418.) L 4 _b_ 2. "_Sir John Southworth._"] In this family the manor of Samlesbury remained for three hundred and fifty years. This was, probably, the John (for the pedigree contained in Whitaker's _Whalley_, p. 430, does not give the clearest light on the subject) who married Jane, daughter of Sir Richard Sherburne, of Stonyhurst, and who took a great lead amongst the Catholics of Lancashire. What was the degree of relationship between Sir John and the husband of the accused, Jane Southworth, there is nothing in the descent to show. Family bickering might have a share, as well as superstition, in the opinion he entertained, "that she was an evil woman." Of the old hall at Samlesbury, the residence of the Southworths, a most interesting account will be found in Whitaker's _Whalley_, p. 431. He considers the centre of very high antiquity, probably not later than Edward III; and observes, "There is about the house a profusion and bulk of oak that must almost have laid prostrate a forest to erect it." M 1 _b_. "_The particular points of the Evidence._"] What a waste of ingenuity Master Potts displays in this recapitulation, where he is merely slaying the slain, and where his wisdom was not needed. Had he applied it to the service of the Pendle witches, he would have found still grosser contrarieties, and as great absurdity. But in that case, there was no horror of Popery to sharpen his faculties, or Jesuit in the background to call his humanity into play. M 2 _a_. "_The wrinkles of an old wiues face is good euidence to the Iurie against a Witch._"] _Si sic omnia!_ For once the worthy clerk in court has a lucid interval, and speaks the language of common sense. M 2 _b_. "_But old Chattox had Fancie._"] A great truth, though Master Potts might not be aware of the extent of it. M 4 _a_. "_M. Leigh, a very religious Preacher._"] Parson of Standish, a man memorable in his day. He published several pieces, amongst others the two following: 1. "The Drumme of Devotion," by W. Leigh, of Standish, 1613.--2. "News of a Prodigious Monster in Aldington, in the Parish of Standish, in Lancashire," 1613, 4to, which show him to have been an adept in the science of title-making. He was one of the tutors of Prince Henry, and was great-grandfather of Dr. Leigh, author of the _History of Lancashire_. N 3 _b_. "_The Arraignment and Triall of Anne Redferne._"] This poor woman seems to have been regularly hunted to death by her prosecutors, who pursued her with all the dogged pertinacity of blood-hounds. Neither the imploring appeal for mercy, in her case, from her wretched mother, who did not ask for any in her own, nor the want of even the shadow of a ground for the charge, had the slightest effect upon the besotted prejudices of the judge and jury. Acquitted on one indictment, she is now put on her trial on another; the imputed crime being her having caused the death of a person, who did not even accuse her of being accessory to it, nearly eighteen years before, by witchcraft; the only evidence, true or false, being, that she had been seen, about the same period, making figures of clay or marl. Her real offence, it may well be conjectured, was her having rejected the improper advances of the ill-conditioned young man whose death she was first indicted for procuring, and to which circumstance the rancour of his relations, the prosecutors, may evidently be traced. It is gratifying to know that she had firmness of mind to persist in the declaration of her innocence to the last. O 3 _a_. "_Alice Nutter._"] We now come to a person of a different description from any of those who have preceded as parties accused, and on whose fate some extraordinary mystery seems to hang. Alice Nutter was not, like the others, a miserable mendicant, but was a lady of large possessions, of a respectable family, and with children whose position appears to have been such as, it might have been expected, would have afforded her the means of escaping the fate which overtook her humbler companions. "I knew her a good woman and well bred, Of an unquestion'd carriage, well reputed Amongst her neighbours, reckoned with the best." _Heywood's Lancashire Witches._ She is described as the wife of Richard Nutter of the Rough Lee, and mother of Miles Nutter, who were in all likelihood nearly related to the other Nutters whose descent has been given. The tradition is, that she was closely connected by relationship or marriage with Eleanor Nutter, the daughter of Ellis Nutter of Pendle Forest, the grandmother of Archbishop Tillotson. That she was the victim of a foul and atrocious conspiracy, in which the movers were some of her own family, there seems no reason to doubt. The anxiety of her children to induce her to confess may possibly have originated in no impure or sinister motive, but it is difficult altogether to dismiss from the mind the suspicion that her wealth was her great misfortune; and that to secure it within their grasp her own household were passive, if not active, agents in her destruction. Any thing more childish or absurd than the evidence against her--as, for instance, that she joyned in killing Henry Mitton because he refused a penny to Old Demdike--it would not be easy, even from the records of witch trials, to produce. As regards Alice Nutter, Potts is singularly meagre, and it is to be lamented that the deficiency of information cannot at present be supplied. Almost the only fact he furnishes us with is, that she died maintaining her innocence. It would have been most interesting to have had the means of ascertaining how she conducted herself at her trial and after her condemnation; and how she met the iniquitous injustice of her fate, sharpened, as it must have been, by the additional bitterness of the insults and execrations of the blind and infuriated populace at her execution. It is far from improbable that some of the correspondence now deposited in the family archives in the county hitherto unpublished may ultimately furnish these particulars. Alice Nutter was doubtless the original of the story of which Heywood availed himself in _The Late Lancashire Witches_, 1634, 4to, which is frequently noticed by the writers of the 17th century--that the wife of a Lancashire country gentleman had been detected in practising witchcraft and unlawful arts, and condemned and executed. In that play there can be little hesitation in ascribing to Heywood the scenes in which Mr. Generous and his wife are the interlocutors, and to Broome, Heywood's coadjutor, the subordinate and farcical portions. It is a very unequal performance, but not destitute of those fine touches, which Heywood is never without, in the characters of English country gentlemen and the pathos of domestic tragedy. The following scene, which I am tempted to extract, though very inferior to the noble ones in his _Woman Killed by Kindness_, between Mr. and Mrs. Frankford, which it somewhat resembles in character, is not unworthy of this great and truly national dramatic writer:-- MR. GENEROUS. WIFE. ROBIN, _a groom._ _Gen._ My blood is turn'd to ice, and all my vitals Have ceas'd their working. Dull stupidity Surpriseth me at once, and hath arrested That vigorous agitation, which till now Exprest a life within me. I, methinks, Am a meer marble statue, and no man. Unweave my age, O time, to my first thread; Let me lose fifty years, in ignorance spent; That, being made an infant once again, I may begin to know. What, or where am I, To be thus lost in wonder? _Wife._ Sir. _Gen._ Amazement still pursues me, how am I chang'd, Or brought ere I can understand myself Into this new world! _Rob._ You will believe no witches? _Gen._ This makes me believe all, aye, anything; And that myself am nothing. Prithee, Robin, Lay me to myself open; what art thou, Or this new transform'd creature? _Rob._ I am Robin; And this your wife, my mistress. _Gen._ Tell me, the earth Shall leave its seat, and mount to kiss the moon; Or that the moon, enamour'd of the earth, Shall leave her sphere, to stoop to us thus low. What, what's this in my hand, that at an instant Can from a four-legg'd creature make a thing So like a wife! _Rob._ A bridle; a jugling bridle, Sir. _Gen._ A bridle! Hence, enchantment. A viper were more safe within my hand, Than this charm'd engine.-- A witch! my wife a witch! The more I strive to unwind Myself from this meander, I the more Therein am intricated. Prithee, woman, Art thou a witch? _Wife._ It cannot be denied, I am such a curst creature. _Gen._ Keep aloof: And do not come too near me. O my trust; Have I, since first I understood myself, Been of my soul so chary, still to study What best was for its health, to renounce all The works of that black fiend with my best force; And hath that serpent twined me so about, That I must lie so often and so long With a devil in my bosom? _Wife._ Pardon, Sir. [_She looks down._] _Gen._ Pardon! can such a thing as that be hoped? Lift up thine eyes, lost woman, to yon hills; It must be thence expected: look not down Unto that horrid dwelling, which thou hast sought At such dear rate to purchase. Prithee, tell me, (For now I can believe) art thou a witch? _Wife._ I am. _Gen._ With that word I am thunderstruck, And know not what to answer; yet resolve me. Hast thou made any contract with that fiend, The enemy of mankind? _Wife._ O I have. _Gen._ What? and how far? _Wife._ I have promis'd him my soul. _Gen._ Ten thousand times better thy body had Been promis'd to the stake; aye, and mine too, To have suffer'd with thee in a hedge of flames, Than such a compact ever had been made. Oh-- Resolve me, how far doth that contract stretch? _Wife._ What interest in this Soul myself could claim, I freely gave him; but his part that made it I still reserve, not being mine to give. _Gen._ O cunning devil: foolish woman, know, Where he can claim but the least little part, He will usurp the whole. Thou'rt a lost woman. _Wife._ I hope, not so. _Gen._ Why, hast thou any hope? _Wife._ Yes, sir, I have. _Gen._ Make it appear to me. _Wife._ I hope I never bargain'd for that fire, Further than penitent tears have power to quench. _Gen._ I would see some of them. _Wife._ You behold them now (If you look on me with charitable eyes) Tinctur'd in blood, blood issuing from the heart. Sir, I am sorry; when I look towards heaven, I beg a gracious pardon; when on you, Methinks your native goodness should not be Less pitiful than they; 'gainst both I have err'd; From both I beg atonement. _Gen._ May I presume 't? _Wife._ I kneel to both your mercies. _Gen._ Knowest thou what A witch is? _Wife._ Alas, none better; Or after mature recollection can be More sad to think on 't. _Gen._ Tell me, are those tears As full of true hearted penitence, As mine of sorrow to behold what state, What desperate state, thou'rt fain in? _Wife._ Sir, they are. _Gen._ Rise; and, as I do you, so heaven pardon me; We all offend, but from such falling off Defend us! Well, I do remember, wife, When I first took thee, 'twas _for good and bad_: O change thy bad to good, that I may keep thee (As then we past our faiths) 'till Death us sever. O woman, thou hast need to weep thyself Into a fountain, such a penitent spring As may have power to quench invisible flames; In which my eyes shall aid: too little, all. _Late Lancashire Witches, Act 4._ P 2 _a_ 1. "_Being examined by my Lord._"] She had evidently learned her lesson well; but this was, with all submission to his Lordship, if adopted as a test, a mighty poor one. Jennet Device must have known well the persons of the parties she accused, and who were now upon their trial, as they were all her near neighbours. P 2 _a_ 2. "_Whether she knew Iohan a Style?_"] His Lordship's introduction of this apocryphal legal personage on such an occasion is very amusing. Had he studied Littleton and Perkins a little less, and given some attention to the Lancashire dialect, and some also to the study of that great book, in which even a judge may find valuable matter, the book of human nature, he might have been more successfull in his examination. Jack's o' Dick's o' Harry's would have been more likely to have been recognised as a veritable person of this world by Jennet Device, than such a name as Johan a Style; which, though very familiar at Westminster, would scarcely have its prototype at Pendle. But Jennet Device, young as she was, in natural shrewdness was far more than a match for his lordship. P 3 _a_. "_Katherine Hewit, alias Movld-heeles._"] Of this person, who comes next in the list of witches, our information is very scanty. She was not of Pendle, but of Colne; and as her husband is described as a "clothier," may be presumed to have been in rather better circumstances than Elizabeth Southernes or Anne Whittle's families. She made no confession. P 4 _a_ 1. "_Anne Foulds of Colne. Michael Hartleys of Colne._"] Folds and Hartley are still the names of families at and in the neighbourhood of Colne. P 4 _a_ 2. "_Had then in hanck a child._"] The meaning of this term is clear, the origin rather dubious. It may come from the Scotch word, _to hanck_, i.e. to have in holdfast or secure, vide Jamieson's Scotch Dictionary, tit. hanck, or from handkill, to murder, vide Jamieson, under that word; or lastly, may be metaphorically used, from hanck, also signifying a skein of yarn or worsted which is tied or trussed up. Q 2 _a_. "_Iohn Bulcocke, Iane Bulcocke his mother._"] The condition of these persons is not stated. It may be conjectured that they were of the lowest class. Q 3 _a_ 1. "_At the Barre hauing formerly confessed._"] Why is not their confession given? Q 3 _a_ 2. "_Crying out in very violent and outrageous manner, even to the gallowes._"] The latter end of these unfortunate people was perhaps similar to that of Isobel Crawford, executed in Scotland the year after for witchcraft, who, on being sentenced, openly denied all her former confessions, and died without any sign of repentance, offering repeated interruption to the minister in his prayer, and refusing to pardon the executioner. Q 4 _a_. "_Master Thomas Lister of Westby._"] See note on p. Y _a_. Q 4 _b_. "_The said Bulcockes wife doth know of some Witches to bee about Padyham and Burnley._"] Precious evidence this to put the lives of two poor creatures into jeopardy. R _a_. "_Accused the said Iohn Bulcock to turne the Spitt there._"] What a fact this would have been for De Lancre. With all his accurate statistics on the subject of the witches' Sabbath, he was not aware that a turnspit was a necessary officer on such occasions, as well as a master of ceremonies. This artful and well instructed jade, Jennet Device, must have borne especial malice against John Bulcock. R 1 _b_. "_The names of the Witches at the Great Assembly and Feast at Malking-Tower, viz. vpon Good-Friday last, 1612._"] In this list of fourteen individuals, Master Potts has omitted "the painful steward so careful to provide mutton," James Device, who made up the number to fifteen. Of these persons seven were not indicted: Jennet Hargraves, the wife of Hugh Hargraves, of Barley under Pendle; Elizabeth Hargraves, the wife of Christopher Hargraves; Christopher Howgate, the son of Old Demdike; Christopher Hargraves, who is described as of Thurniholme, or Thornholme, and as Christopher o' Jacks, and was husband of Elizabeth Hargraves; Grace Hay, of Padiham; Anne Crunkshey, of Marchden, or more properly, Cronkshaw of Marsden; and Elizabeth Howgate, the wife of Christopher Howgate. The two Howgates were, it may be, the "one Holgate and his wife," mentioned in Robinson's deposition in 1633. Alice Graie, or Gray, included in the list, was indicted, though no copy of the indictment is afforded by Potts, and, singular as it may seem, acquitted. Richard Miles' wife, of the Rough Lee, stated to have been present in some of the depositions, (G 3 _b_,) was, beyond doubt, Alice Nutter, so called as the wife of Richard and mother of Miles Nutter. It may afford matter for speculation, whether any real meeting took place of any of the persons above enumerated, which gave occasion for the monstrous versions of the witnesses at this trial. It is far from unlikely, that on the apprehension and commitment of Old Demdike, Old Chattox, Alizon Device, and Anne Redfern to Lancaster, a meeting would take place of their near relations, and others who might attend from curiosity, or from its being rumoured that they were themselves implicated by the confessions of those apprehended, and who by such attendance sealed their dooms. In all similar fabrications there is generally some slight foundation of fact, some scintilla of homely truth, from which, like the inverted apex of a pyramid, the disproportioned fabric expands. It is possible that, from the simple occurrence of an unusual attendance at Malking Tower on Good Friday, not unnatural under the circumstances, some of the witnesses, ignorant and easily persuaded, might be afterwards led to believe in the existence of those monstrous superadditions with which the convention was afterwards clothed. However this may be, there must have been at hand for working up the materials into a plausible form, some drill sergeant of evidence behind the curtain, who had his own interest to serve or revenge to gratify. The two particulars in the narrative that one feels least disposed to question, are, that James Device stole a wether from John Robinson of Barley, to provide a family dinner on Good Friday, and that when the meat was roasted John Bulcock performed the humble, but very necessary, duty of turning the spit. R 3 _a_. "_My Lord Gerrard._"] Thomas Gerard, son and heir of Sir Gilbert Gerard, Master of the Robes 23d Elizabeth, was raised to the peerage by the title of Lord Gerard of Gerard's Bromley, in Staffordshire, 1603. He died 1618. S _a_. "_Kniues, Elsons, and Sickles._" In the _Promptorium Parvulorum_, p. 138, to Elsyn (elsyng^k) Sibula, Mr. Way appends this note: "This word occurs in the Gloss on Gautier de Bibelesworth, Arund. MS. 220, where a buckled girdle is described:-- "Een isy doyt le hardiloun (þe tunnge) Passer par tru de subiloun (a bore of an alsene.) "An elsyne,--acus, subula. Cath. Ang. Sibula, an elsyn, an alle or a bodkyn. ORTUS. In the inventory of the goods of a merchant at Newcastle, A.D. 1571, occur, 'vj. doss' elsen heftes, 12_d_; 1 clowte and 1/2 a C elsen blades, viij_s_. viij_d_; xiij. clowtes of talier, needles, &c.' Wills and Inventories published by the Surtees Society, l. 361. The term is derived from the French _alene_; elson for cordwayners, alesne. Palsg. In Yorkshire and some other parts of England an awl is still called an elsen." S _b_. "_Which the said Alizon confessing._"] In the case of this paralytic pedlar, John Law, his mishap could scarcely be called such, as it would for the remainder of his life, be an all-sufficient stock-in-trade for him, and popular wonder and sympathy, without the judge's interposition, would provide for his relief and maintenance. The near apparent connection and correspondence of the _damnum minatum_ and _damnum secutum_, in this instance, imposed upon this unfortunate woman, as it had done upon many others, and gave to her confession an earnestness which would appear to the unenlightened spectator to spring only from reality and truth. S 3 _b_. "_Margaret Pearson._"] This Padiham witch fared better than her neighbours, being sentenced only to the pillory. Nothing affords a stronger proof of the vindictive pertinacity with which these prosecutions were carried on than the fact of this old and helpless creature being put on her trial three several times upon such evidence as follows. Chattox, like many other persons in her situation, was disposed to have as many companions in punishment, crime or no crime, as she could compass, and denounced her accordingly: "The said Pearson's wife is as ill as shee." T _a_. "_The said Margerie did carrie the said Toade out of the said house in a paire of tonges._"] This toad was disposed of more easily than that of Julian Cox, as to which see Glanvil's _Collection of Relations_, p. 192:-- Another witness swore, that as he passed by Cox her door, she was taking a pipe of tobacco upon the threshold of her door, and invited him to come in and take a pipe, which he did. And as he was talking Julian said to him, Neighbour, look what a pretty thing there is. He look't down, and there was a monstrous great toad betwixt his leggs, staring him in the face. He endeavoured to kill it by spurning it, but could not hit it. Whereupon Julian bad him forbear, and it would do him no hurt. But he threw down his pipe and went home, (which was about two miles off of Julian Cox her house,) and told his family what had happened, and that he believed it was one of Julian Cox her devils. After, he was taking a pipe of tobacco at home, and the same toad appeared betwixt his leggs. He took the toad out to kill it, and to his thinking cut it in several pieces, but returning to his pipe, the toad still appeared. He endeavoured to burn it, but could not. At length he took a switch and beat it. The toad ran several times about the room to avoid him he still pursuing it with correction. At length the toad cryed and vanish't, and he was never after troubled with it. Dr. More's comment on the circumstance is written with all the seriousness so important a part of a witch's supellex deserves. He commences defending the huntsman, who swore that he hunted a hare, and when he came to take it up, he found it to be Julian Cox: Those half-witted people thought he swore false, I suppose because they imagined that what he told implied that Julian Cox was turned into an hare. Which she was not, nor did his report imply any such real metamorphosis of her body, but that these ludicrous dæmons exhibited to the sight of this huntsman and his doggs the shape of an Hare, one of them turning himself into such a form, and others hurrying on the body of Julian near the same place, and at the same swiftness, but interposing betwixt that hare-like spectre and her body, modifying the air so that the scene there, to the beholders sight, was as if nothing but air were there, and a shew of earth perpetually suited to that where the hare passed. As I have heard of some painters that have drawn the sky in an huge large landskip, so lively that the birds have flown against it, thinking it free air, and so have fallen down. And if painters and juglers by the tricks of legerdemain can do such strange feats to the deceiving of the sight, it is no wonder that these airy invisible spirits as far surpass them in all such præstigious doings as the air surpasses the earth for subtilty. And the like præstigiæ may be in the toad. It might be a real toad (though actuated and guided by a dæmon) which was cut in pieces, and that also which was whipt about, and at last snatcht out of sight (as if it had vanished) by these aerial hocus-pocus's. And if some juglers have tricks to take hot coals into their mouth without hurt, certainly it is not surprising that some small attempt did not suffice to burn that toad. That such a toad, sent by a witch and crawling up the body of the man of the house as he sate by the fire's side, was overmastered by him and his wife together, and burnt in the fire; I have heard credibly reported by one of the Isle of Ely. _Of these dæmoniack vermin, I have heard other stories also, as of a rat that followed a man some score of miles trudging through thick and thin along with him._ So little difficulty is there in that of the toad.--_Glanvil's Collection of Relations_, p. 200. T 2 _a_ 1. "_Isabel Robey._" This person was of Windle, in the parish of Prescot, a considerable distance from Pendle. The Gerards were lords of the manor of Windle. Sir Thomas Gerard, before whom the examinations were taken, was created baronet, 22nd May, 9th James I.; and thrice married. From him the present Sir John Gerard, of New Hall, near Warrington, is descended. Sir Thomas was determined that the hundred of West Derby should have its witch as well as the other parts of the county. A more melancholy tissue of absurd and incoherent accusations than those against this last of the prisoners convicted on this occasion, it would not be easy to find; who was hanged, for all that appears, because one person was suddenly "pinched on her thigh, as she thought, with four fingers and a thumb," and because another was "sore pained with a great warch in his bones." T 2 _a_ 2. "_This Countie of Lancaster, which now may lawfully bee said to abound asmuch in Witches of diuers kindes as Seminaries, Iesuites, and Papists._"] Truly, the county palatine was in sad case, according to Master Potts's account. If the crop of each of these was over abundant, it was from no fault of the learned judges, who, in their commissions of _Oyer and Terminer_, subjected it pretty liberally to the pruning-hook of the executioner. T 2 _a_ 3. "_This lamentable and wofull Tragedie, wherein his Maiestie hath lost so many Subjects, Mothers their Children, Fathers their Friends and Kinsfolk._" The Lancashire bill of mortality, under the head witchcraft, so far as it can be collected from this tract, will run thus:-- 1. Robert Nutter, of Greenhead, in Pendle. 2. Richard Assheton, son of Richard Assheton, of Downham, Esquire. 3. Child of Richard Baldwin, of Wheethead, within the forest of Pendle. 4. John Device, or Davies, of Pendle. 5. Anne Nutter, daughter of Anthony Nutter, of Pendle. 6. Child of John Moore, of Higham. 7. Hugh Moore, of Pendle. 8. John Robinson, _alias_ Swyer. 9. James Robinson. 10. Henry Mytton, of the Rough Lee. 11. Anne Townley, wife of Henry Townley, of the Carr, gentleman. 12. John Duckworth. 13. John Hargraves, of Goldshaw Booth. 14. Blaze Hargraves, of Higham. 15. Christopher Nutter. 16. Anne Folds, of Colne. Sixteen persons reported dead of this common epidemic, besides a countless number with pains and "starkness in their limbs," and "a great warch in their bones!" No wonder that Doctors Bromley and Potts thought active treatment necessary, with a decided preference for hemp, as the leading specific. T 3 _b_. "_With great warch in his bones._"] Warch is a word well known and still used in this sense, _i.e._, pain, in Lancashire. T 4 _b_ 1. "_The said Peter was now satisfied that the said Isabel Robey was no Witch, by sending to one Halseworths, which they call a wiseman._"] I honour the memory of this Halsworth, or Houldsworth, as I suppose it should be spelled, for he was indeed a wise man in days when wisdom was an extremely scarce commodity. T 4 _b_ 2. "_To abide vpon it._"] _i.e._, my abiding opinion is. X _a_. "_Elizabeth Astley, John Ramsden, Alice Gray, Isabel Sidegraues, Lawrence Hay._"] The specific charges against these persons, with the exception of Alice Gray, do not appear, nor is it said where their places of residence were. Alice Gray was reputed to have been at the meeting of witches at Malkin's Tower, and to her the judge refers, perhaps, in particular, when he says, "Without question, there are amongst you that are as deepe in this action as any of them that are condemned to die for their offences." X _b_. "_The Execution of the Witches._"] We could have dispensed with many of the flowers of rhetoric with which the pages of this discovery are strewed, if Master Potts would have favoured us with a plain, unvarnished account of what occurred at this execution. It is here, in the most interesting point of all, that his narrative, in other respects so full and abundant, stops short, and seems curtailed of its just proportions. The "learned and worthy preacher," to whom the prisoners were commended by the judge, was probably Mr. William Leigh, of Standish, before mentioned. Amongst his papers or correspondence, if they should happen to have been preserved, some account may eventually be found of the sad closing scene of these melancholy victims of superstition. X 2 _a_. "_Neither can I paint in extraordinarie tearmes._"] The worthy clerk is too modest. He is a great painter, the Tintoretto of witchcraft. Y _a_ 1. "_Hauing cut off Thomas Lister, Esquire, father to this gentleman now liuing._"] Thomas Lister, of Westby, ancestor of the Listers, Lords Ribblesdale, married Jane, daughter of John Greenacres, Esquire, of Worston, county of Lancaster, and was buried at Gisburn, February 8th, 1607. His son, Thomas Lister, referred to as the "gentleman now living," married Jane, daughter of Thomas Heber, Esq., of Marton, after mentioned, and was buried at Gisburn, July 10th, 1619. Y _a_ 2. "_Was Indicted and Arraigned for the murder of a Child of one Dodg-sonnes._"] One acquittal was no protection to these unhappy creatures. It caused only additional exasperation, and, sooner or later, they were brought within what Donne calls "the hungry statutes' gaping jaws." Whether superstition or malice prompted this prosecution, on the part of Mr. Lister, it is difficult to say. Some grudge he entertained, or cause of offence he had taken up against this Jennet Preston, might be her death warrant in those days, when it was penal for a woman to be old, helpless, ugly, and poor. She was not so fortunate as the females tried at York, nine years afterwards, for bewitching the children of Edward Fairfax, of Fuyston, in the forest of Knaresborough, to whom we owe the only English translation of Tasso worthy of the name. These females, six in number, were indicted at two successive assizes, and every effort was made by the "Prevailing poet! whose undoubting mind Believed the magic wonders which he sung," to procure their conviction. Never was a more unequal contest. On the one side was a relentless antagonist, armed with wealth, influence, learning, and accomplishments, and whose family connections gave him an unlimited power in the county; and on the other, six helpless persons, whose sex, age, and poverty were almost sufficient for their condemnation, without any evidence at all. Yet, owing to the magnanimous firmness of the judge, whose name, deserving of immortal honour, I regret has not been preserved, these efforts were frustrated, and the women accused delivered from the gulph which yawned before them. The disappointment he experienced in this instance, in being defrauded, as he thought, of a conviction for which he had strained every nerve and sinew, and in not being allowed to render the forest of Knaresborough as famous as that of Pendle, cast a gloom of despondency over the remaining days of this admirable poet, who has left a narration of the whole transaction, of most singular interest and curiosity, yet unpublished. The MSS. now in my possession, and which came from Mr. Bright's collection, consists of seventy-eight closely-written folio pages. It is entitled "A Discourse of Witchcraft, as it was enacted in the family of Mr. Edward Fairfax, of Fuystone, coun. Ebor, 1621." From page 78 to 144 are a series of ninety-three most extraordinary and spirited sketches, made with the pen, of the witches, devils, monsters, and apparitions referred to in the narrative. Y 2 _a_. "_Master Heyber._"] This was Thomas Hayber, or Heber, of Marton, in Craven, Esquire, who was buried at Marton, 7th February, 1633. He was the ancestor of Bishop Reginald Heber and the late Richard Heber, Esq. Y 3 _a_. "_The said Iennet Preston comming to touch the dead corpes, they bled fresh bloud presently._"] On the popular superstition of touching the corpse of a murdered person, as an ordeal or test for the discovery of the innocence or guilt of suspected murderers, the reader cannot better be referred than to the very learned and elaborate essay in Pitcairne's _Criminal Trials_, vol. iii. p. 182-189. Amongst the authors there quoted, Webster is omitted, who, (see _Displaying of supposed Witchcraft_, p. 304,) discusses the point at considerable length, and with an earnest and implicit faith singularly at variance with his enlightened scepticism in other matters. But there were regions of superstition in which even this Sampson of logic became imbecile and powerless. The rationale of the bleeding of a murdered corpse at the touch of the murderer is given by Sir Kenelm Digby with his usual force and spirit: To this cause, peradventure, may be reduced the strange effect which is frequently seen in England, when, _at the approach of the Murderer, the slain body suddenly bleedeth afresh_. For certainly the Souls of them that are treacherously murdered by surprise, use to leaue their bodies with extreme unwillingness, and with vehement indignation against them that force them to so unprovided and abhorred a passage! That Soul, then, to wreak its evil talent against the hated Murderer, and to draw a just and desired revenge upon his head, would do all it can to manifest the author of the fact! To _speak_ it cannot--for in itself it wanteth the organs of voice; and those it is parted from are now grown too heavy, and are too benummed, for to give motion unto: Yet some change it desireth to make in the body, which it hath so vehement inclination to; and therefore is the aptest for it to work upon. It must then endeavour to cause a motion in the subtilest and most fluid parts (and consequently the most moveable ones) of it. This can be nothing but THE BLOOD, which then being violently moved, _must needs gush out at those places where it findeth issue_! In the two following Scotch cases of witchcraft, this test was resorted to. The first was that of MARIOUN PEEBLES,[79] _alias_ Pardone, spouse to SWENE, in Hildiswick, who was, on March 22, 1644, sentenced to be strangled at a stake, and burnt to ashes, at _the Hill of Berrie_, for WITCHCRAFT and MURDER. Marion and her husband having 'ane deadlie and venefical malice in her heart' against Edward Halero in Overure, and being determined 'to destroy and put him down,' being 'transformed in the lyknes of ane pellack-quhaill, (the Devill changing her spirit, quhilk fled in the same quhaill,') and the said Edward and other four individuals being in a fishing-boat, coming from the Sea, at the North-banks of Hildiswick, 'on ane fair morning, did cum under the said boat, and overturnit her with ease, and drowned and devoired thame in the sey, right at the shore, when there wis na danger wtherwayis.' The bodies of Halero and another of these hapless fishermen having been found, Marion and Swene 'wir sent for, and brought to see thame, and to lay thair hands on thame, ... dayis after said death and away-casting, quhaire thair bluid was evanished and desolved, from every natural cours or caus, shine, and run; the said umquhill Edward _bled at the collir-bain or craig-bane_, and the said ...,[80] _in the hand and fingers, gushing out bluid thairat_, to the great admiration of the beholders--and revelation of the judgement of the Almytie! And by which lyk occasionis and miraculous works of God, made manifest in Murders and the Murderers; whereby, be many frequent occasiones brought to light, and the Murderers, be the said proof brought to judgment, conuict and condemned, not only in this Kingdom, also this countrie, but lykwayis in maist forrin Christiane Kingdomis; and be so manie frequent precedentis and practising of and tuitching Murderis and Murdereris, notourlie known: So, the forsaid Murder and Witchcraft of the saidis persons, with the rest of their companions, through your said Husband's deed, art, part, rad,[81] and counsall, is manifest and cleir to all, not onlie through and by the foirsaid precedentis of your malice, wicked and malishes[82] practises, by Witchcraft, Confessionis, and Declarationis of the said umquill Janet Fraser, Witch, revealed to her, as said is, and quha wis desyrit by him to concur and assist with you to the doing thereof; but lykways _be the declaration and revelation of the justice and judgementis of God, through the said issuing of bluid from the bodies_!' &c. A similar and very remarkable instance is related in the following Triall: In the Dittay of CHRISTIAN WILSON, alias _the Lanthorne_,[83] accused of Murder, Witchcraft, &c., (which is founded upon the examinations of James Wilson, Abraham Macmillan, William Crichton, and Fyfe and George Erskine, &c. led before Sir William Murray of Newtoun, and other Commissioners, at Dalkeith, Jun. 14, 1661,) it is stated, that 'Ther being enimitie betuixt the said Christiane and Alexander Wilsone, her brother, and shoe having often tymes threatned him, at length, about 7 or 8 monthes since, altho' the said Alexander was sene that day of his death, at three houres afternoone, in good health, walking about his bussnesse and office; yitt, at fyve howres in that same night, he was fownd dead, lying in his owne howse, naked as he was borne, with his face torne and rent, without any appearance of a spot of blood either wpon his bodie or neigh to it. And altho' many of the neiboures in the toune (Dalkeith) come into his howse to see the dead corpe, yitt shoe newar offered to come, howbeit her dwelling was nixt adjacent thairto; nor had shoe so much as any seiming greiff for his death. Bot the Minister and Bailliffes of the towne, taking great suspitione of her, in respect of her cairiage comand it that shoe showld be browght in; bot when shoe come, shoe come trembling all the way to the howse--bot _shoe refuised to come nigh_ THE CORPS _or to_ TUITCH _it_ saying, that shoe "nevir tuitched a dead corpe in her lyfe!" Bot being arnestly desyred by the Minister, Bailliffes, and hir brother's friends who was killed, that shoe wold "bot _tuitch the corpes softlie_," shoe granted to doe it--but before shoe did it, the Sone being shyning in at the howse, shoe exprest her selfe thus, humbly desyring, that "as the Lord made the Sone to shyne and give light into that howse, that also _he wald give light to discovering of that Murder_!" And with these words, shoe TUITCHEING _the wound of the dead man, verie saftlie_, it being whyte and cleane, without any spot of blod or the lyke!--yitt IMEDIATLY, _whill her fingers was wpon it_, THE BLOOD RUSHED OWT OF IT, to the great admiratioune[84] of all the behoulders, who tooke it for _discoverie of the Murder_, according to her owne prayers.--For ther was ane great lumpe of flesh taken out of his cheik, so smowthlie, as no rasor in the world cowld have made so ticht ane incisioune, wpon flesh, or cheis--and ther wes no blood at all in the wownd--nor did it at all blead, altho' that many persones befor had tuitched it, whill[85] shoe did tuitche it! And the howse being searched all over, for the shirt of the dead man, yitt it cowld not be found; and altho' the howse was full of people all that night, ever vatching the corpes;[86] neither did any of them tuitch him that night--which is probable[87]--yitt, in the morneing, his shirt was fownd tyed fast abowt his neck, as a brechame,[88] non knowing how this come to pass! And this Cristian did immediatlie transport all her owne goods owt of her own howse into her dowghter's, purposing to flie away--bot was therwpon apprehendit and imprisoned.'--_Pitcairn's Criminal Trials_, vol. iii. p. 194. [Footnote 79: See Dr. Hibbert's "History of Orkney," &c., to which this remarkable Trial is appended.] [Footnote 80: The name left blank.] [Footnote 81: Rede; advice.] [Footnote 82: Malicious.] [Footnote 83: The name given at her baptism by the Devil. From "Collection of Original Documents," belonging to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, MS. As a specimen of the other charges, take the following: "Williame Richardsone, in Dalkeith, haiving felled ane hen of the said Cristianes with ane stone, and wpone her sight thereof did imediatly threatne him, and with ane frowneing countenance told him, that he 'should newer cast ane vther stone!' And imediatly the said Williame fell into ane franicie and madnes, and tooke his bed, and newer rose agane, but died within a few dayes: And in the tyme of his sicknes, he always cryed owt, that the said Cristiane was present befor him, in the likeness of ane grey catt! And some tyme eftir his death, James Richardsone, nephew to the said Williame, being a boy playing in the said Cristiane her yaird, and be calling her Lantherne, shoe threatned, that, if he held not his peace, shoe sowld cause him to die the death his nephew (uncle) died of!' Whairby it would appeare that shoe tooke wpon hir his nepheas (uncle's) death."] [Footnote 84: Wonder; amazement.] [Footnote 85: Until. That is, many previous trials had been made of other persons suspected, or of those who were near neighbours, perhaps living at enmity with the deceased, who had voluntarily offered themselves to this solemn ordeal, or had been called upon thus publicly to attest their innocence of his blood.] [Footnote 86: Holding the lyke-wake.] [Footnote 87: Can be proved, by testimony or probation.] [Footnote 88: The large collar which goes about a draught-horse's neck.] Z _a_. "_Master Leonard Lister._"] This Leonard Lister was the brother of Master Thomas Lister, for whose murder Jennet Preston was indicted; and married Ann, daughter of ---- Loftus, of Coverham Abbey, county of York. Z 2 _a_. "_His Lordship commanded the Iurie to obserue the particular circumstances._"] The judge in this case was Altham, who seems even to have been more superstitious, bigotted, and narrow-minded than his brother in commission, Bromley. Fenner, who tried the witches of Warbois, and Archer, before whom the trial of Julian Cox took place, are the only judges I can meet with, quite on a level with this learned baron in grovelling absurdity, upon whom "Jennet Preston would lay heavy at the time of his death," whether she had so lain upon Mr. Thomas Lister or not, if bigotry, habit, and custom did not render him seared and callous to conscience and pity. Z 3 _b_ 1. "_Take example by this Gentlemen to prosecute these hellish Furies to their end._"] It is marvellous that Potts does not, like Delrio, recommend the rack to be applied to witches "in moderation, and according to the regulations of Pope Pius the Third, and so as not to cripple the criminal for life." Not that this learned Jesuit is much averse to simple dislocations occasioned by the rack. These, he thinks, cannot be avoided in the press of business. He is rather opposed, though in this he speaks doubtfully and with submission to authority, to those tortures which fracture the bones or lacerate the tendons. Verily, the Catholic and the Protestant author might have shaken hands; they were, beyond dispute, _poene Gemelli_. Z 3 _b_ 2. "_Posterities._"] Master Potts, of the particulars of whose life nothing is known, made, as far as can be discovered, no further attempt to acquire fame in the character of an author. No subject so interesting probably again occurred, as that which had diversified his legal pursuits "in his lodgings in Chancery-lane," from the pleasing recollections associated with his Summer Circuit of 1612. He was not, however, the only person of the name of Pott, or Potts, who distinguished himself in the field of Witchcraft. The author of the following tract, in my possession, might have garnished it with various flowers from the work now reprinted, if he had been aware of such a repository: "Pott (Joh. Henr.) De nefando Lamiarum cum Diabolo coitu." 4to. Lond. 1689. The other celebrated cases of supposed witchcraft occurring in the county of Lancaster, besides those connected with the foregoing republication, are, the extraordinary one of Ferdinand, Earl of Derby, who died at Latham in 1594, for which the reader is referred to Camden's _Annals of Elizabeth_, years 1593, 1594; Kennet, 2. 574, 580; or Pennant's _Tour from Downing to Alston Moor_, p. 29;--the case of Edmund Hartley, hanged at Lancaster in 1597, for bewitching some members of the family of Mr. Starkie, of Cleworth, which will be fully considered in the proposed republication of the Chetham Society, which gives the history of that event;--and lastly, that of a person of the name of Utley, (Whitaker, p. 528; Baines, vol. i. p. 604,) who was hanged at Lancaster about 1630, for having bewitched to death Richard, the son of Ralph Assheton, Esq., Lord of Middleton, of whose trial, unfortunately, no report is in existence. Webster also mentions two supposed witches as having been put to death at Lancaster, within eighteen years before his _Displaying of supposed Witchcraft_ was published; and which occurrence, not referred to by any other historian, must therefore have taken place about the year 1654. Manchester: Printed by Charles Simms and Co. * * * * * Chetham Society [Illustration] FOR THE PUBLICATION OF HISTORICAL AND LITERARY REMAINS CONNECTED WITH THE PALATINE COUNTIES OF LANCASTER & CHESTER. * * * * * Patrons. The Right Honourable The EARL OF DERBY. The Right Honourable The EARL OF BALCARRES. The Right Honourable The EARL OF WILTON. The Right Honourable The EARL OF BURLINGTON. The Right Honourable the EARL GROSVENOR. The Right Honourable LORD FRANCIS EGERTON, M.P. The Right Honourable LORD STANLEY. The Right Reverend The Lord BISHOP OF CHESTER. The Right Reverend The Lord BISHOP OF ELY. The Right Reverend The Lord BISHOP OF NORWICH. The Right Reverend The Lord BISHOP OF CHICHESTER. The Right Honourable LORD DELAMERE. The Right Honourable LORD DE TABLEY. The Right Honourable LORD SKELMERSDALE. The Right Honourable SIR ROBERT PEEL, BART., M.P. SIR PHILIP DE MALPAS GREY EGERTON, BART., M.P. GEORGE CORNWALL LEGH, ESQ., M.P. JOHN WILSON PATTEN, ESQ., M.P. Council. EDWARD HOLME, M.D., _President._ Rev. RICHARD PARKINSON, B.D., Canon of Manchester, _Vice-President._ The Hon. and Very Rev. WILLIAM HERBERT, Dean of Manchester. GEORGE ORMEROD, D.C.L., F.R.S., F.S.A., F.G.S. SAM. HIBBERT WARE, M.D. F.R.S.E. REV. THOMAS CORSER, M.A. REV. GEORGE DUGARD, M.A. REV. C.G. HULTON, M.A. Rev. J. PICCOPE, M.A. Rev. F.R. RAINES, M.A., F.S.A. JAMES CROSSLEY. JAMES HEYWOOD, F.R.S. _Treasurer._ WILLIAM LANGTON. _Hon. Secretary._ WILLIAM FLEMING, M.D. * * * * * RULES OF THE CHETHAM SOCIETY. 1. That the Society shall be limited to three hundred and fifty members. 2. That the Society shall consist of members being subscribers of one pound annually, such subscription to be paid in advance, on or before the day of general meeting in each year. The first general meeting to be held on the 23rd day of March, 1843, and the general meeting in each year afterwards on the 1st day of March, unless it should fall on a Sunday, when some other day is to be named by the Council. 3. That the affairs of the Society be conducted by a Council, consisting of a permanent President and Vice-President, and twelve other members, including a Treasurer and Secretary, all of whom, with the exception of the President and Vice-President, shall be elected at the general meeting of the Society. 4. That any member may compound for his future subscriptions, by the payment of ten pounds. 5. That the accounts of the receipts and expenditure of the Society be audited annually, by three auditors, to be elected at the general meeting; and that any member who shall be one year in arrear of his subscription, shall no longer be considered as belonging to the Society. 6. That every member not in arrear of his annual subscription, be entitled to a copy of each of the works published by the Society. 7. That twenty copies of each work shall be allowed to the Editor of the same, in addition to the one to which he may be entitled as a member. * * * * * LIST OF MEMBERS FOR THE YEAR 1844. Ackers, James, M.P., Heath House, Ludlow Addey, H.M., Liverpool Ainsworth, Ralph F., M.D., Manchester Ainsworth, Rev. Thomas, M.A., Hartford Hall, Cheshire Ainsworth, W.H., Kensal Manor House, Harrow-road, London Alexander, Edward N., F.S.A., Halifax Allen, Rev. John Taylor, M.A., Stradbrooke Vicarage, Suffolk Ambery, Charles, Manchester Armstrong, Thomas, Higher Broughton, Manchester Ashton, John, Warrington Atherton, Miss, Kersal Cell, near Manchester Atherton, James, Swinton House, near Manchester Atkinson, F.R., Pendleton, near Manchester Atkinson, William, Weaste, near Manchester Balcarres, The Earl of, Haigh Hall, near Wigan Baldwin, Rev. John, M.A., Dalton, near Ulverstone Bannerman, Alexander, Didsbury, near Manchester Bannerman, Henry, Burnage, near Manchester Bannerman, John, Swinton, near Manchester Bardsley, Samuel Argent, M.D., Green Heys, near Manchester Barker, John, Manchester Barker, Thomas, Oldham Barratt, James, Jun., Manchester Barrow, Miss, Green Bank, near Manchester Barrow, Rev. Andrew, President of Stonyhurst College, near Blackburn Barrow, Peter, Manchester Bartlemore, William, Castleton Hall, Rochdale Barton, John, Manchester Barton, R.W., Springwood, near Manchester Barton, Samuel, Didsbury, Manchester Barton, Thomas, Manchester Bayne, Rev. Thos. Vere, M.A., Broughton, Manchester Beamont, William, Warrington Beard, Rev. John R., D.D., Stony Knolls, near Manchester Beardoe, James, Manchester Beever, James F., Manchester Bellairs, Rev. H.W., M.A., London Bentley, Rev. T.R., M.A., Manchester Birley, Hugh Hornby, Broom House, near Manchester Birley, Hugh, Didsbury, near Manchester Birley, Richard, Manchester Birley, Thos. H., Manchester Bohn, Henry G., London Booth, Benjamin W., Manchester Booth, John, Barton-upon-Irwell Booth, William, Manchester Boothman, Thomas, Ardwick, near Manchester Botfield, Beriah, M.P., Norton Hall, Northamptonshire Bower, George, London Brackenbury, Ralph, Manchester Bradbury, Charles, Salford Bradshaw, John, Weaste House, near Manchester Brooke, Edward, Manchester Brooks, Samuel, Manchester Broome, William, Manchester Brown, Robert, Preston Buckley, Edmund, M.P., Ardwick, near Manchester Buckley, Rev. Thomas, M.A., Old Trafford, near Manchester Buckley, Nathaniel, F.L.S., Rochdale Burlington, The Earl of, Holkar Hall Calvert, Robert, Salford Cardwell, Rev. Edward, D.D., Principal of St. Alban's Hall and Camden Professor, Oxford Cardwell, Edward, M.P., M.A., Regent's Park, London Chadwick, Elias, M.A., Swinton Hall, near Manchester Chesshyre, Mrs., Pendleton, near Manchester Chester, The Bishop of Chichester, The Bishop of Chippindall, John, Chetham Hill, near Manchester Clare, Peter, F.R.A.S., Manchester Clarke, George, Crumpsall, near Manchester Clayton, Japheth, Pendleton, near Manchester Clifton, Rev. R.C., M.A., Canon of Manchester Consterdine, James, Manchester Cook, Thomas, Gorse Field, Pendleton, near Manchester Cooper, William, Manchester Corser, George, Whitchurch, Shropshire Corser, Rev. Thomas, M.A., Stand, near Manchester Cottam, S.E., F.R.A.S., Manchester Coulthart, John Ross, Ashton-under-Lyne Crook, Thomas A., Rochdale Cross, William Assheton, Redscar, near Preston Crossley, George, Manchester Crossley, James, Manchester Crossley, John, M.A., Scaitcliffe House, Todmorden Currer, Miss Richardson, Eshton Hall, near Skipton Daniel, George, Manchester Darbishire, Samuel D., Manchester Darwell, James, Manchester Darwell, Thomas, Manchester Davies, John, M.W.S., Manchester Dawes, Matthew, F.G.S., Westbrooke, near Bolton Dearden, James, The Orchard, Rochdale Dearden, Thomas Ferrand, Rochdale Delamere, The Lord, Vale Royal, near Northwich Derby, The Earl of, Knowsley Dilke, C.W., London Dinham, Thomas, Manchester Driver, Richard, Manchester Dugard, Rev. George, M.A., Birch, near Manchester Dyson, T.J., Tower, London Earle, Richard, Edenhurst, near Prescott Eccles, William, Wigan Egerton, The Lord Francis, M.P., Worsley Hall Egerton, Sir Philip de Malpas Grey, Bart., M.P., Oulton Park, Tarporley Egerton, Wilbraham, Tatton Park Ely, The Bishop of Eyton, J.W.K., F.S.A. L. & E., Elgin Villa, Leamington Faulkner, George, Manchester Feilden, Joseph, Witton, near Blackburn Fenton, James, Jun., Lymm Hall, Cheshire Fernley, John, Manchester Ffarrington, J. Nowell, Worden, near Chorley Ffrance, Thomas Robert Wilson, Rawcliffe Hall, Garstang Fleming, Thomas, Pendleton, near Manchester Fleming, William, M.D., Ditto Fletcher, John, Haulgh, near Bolton Fletcher, Samuel, Broomfield, near Manchester Fletcher, Samuel, Ardwick, near Manchester Flintoff, Thomas, Manchester Ford, Henry, Manchester Fraser, James W., Manchester Frere, W.E., Rottingdean, Sussex Gardner, Thomas, Worcester College, Oxford Garner, J.G., Manchester Garnett, William James, Quernmore Park, Lancaster Germon, Rev. Nicholas, M.A., High Master, Free Grammar School, Manchester Gibb, William, Manchester Gladstone, Robertson, Liverpool Gladstone, Robert, Withington, near Manchester Gordon, Hunter, Manchester Gould, John, Manchester Grant, Daniel, Manchester Grave, Joseph, Manchester Gray, Benjamin, B.A., Trinity Coll. Cambridge Gray, James, Manchester Greaves, John, Irlam Hall, near Manchester Greenall, G., Walton Hall, near Warrington Grey, The Hon. William Booth Grosvenor, The Earl Grundy, George, Chetham Fold, near Manchester Hadfield, George, Manchester Hailstone, Edward, F.S.A., Horton Hall, Bradford, Yorkshire Hardman, Henry, Bury, Lancashire Hardy, William, Manchester Hargreaves, George J., Hulme, Manchester Harland, John, Manchester Harrison, William, Brearey, Isle of Man Harter, James Collier, Broughton Hall, near Manchester Harter, William, Hope Hall, near Manchester Hately, Isaiah, Manchester Hatton, James, Richmond House, near Manchester Hawkins, Edward, F.R.S., F.S.A., F.L.S., British Museum, London Heelis, Stephen, Manchester Henshaw, William, Manchester Herbert, Hon. and Very Rev. Wm., Dean of Manchester Heron, Rev. George, M.A., Carrington, Cheshire Heywood, Sir Benjamin, Bart., Claremont, near Manchester Heywood, James, F.R.S., F.G.S., Acresfield, near Manchester Heywood, John Pemberton, near Liverpool Heywood, Thomas, F.S.A., Hope End, Ledbury, Herefordshire Heywood, Thomas, Pendleton, near Manchester Heyworth, Lawrence, Oakwood, near Stockport Hibbert, Mrs., Salford Hickson, Charles, Manchester Hinde, Rev. Thomas, M.A., Winwick, Warrington Hoare, G.M., The Lodge, Morden, Surrey Hoare, P.R., Kelsey Park, Beckenham, Kent Holden, Thomas, Summerfield, Bolton Holden, Thomas, Rochdale Holme, Edward, M.D., Manchester Hughes, William, Old Trafford, near Manchester Hulme, Davenport, M.D., Manchester Hulme, Hamlet, Medlock Vale, Manchester Hulton, Rev. A.H., M.A., Ashton-under-Lyne Hulton, Rev. C.G., M.A., Chetham College, Manchester Hulton, H.T., Manchester Hulton, W.A., Preston Hunter, Rev. Joseph, F.S.A., London Jackson, H.B., Manchester Jackson, Joseph, Ardwick, near Manchester Jacson, Charles R., Barton Lodge, Preston James, Rev. J.G., M.A., Habergham Eaves, near Burnley James, Paul Moon, Summerville, near Manchester Jemmett, William Thomas, Manchester Johnson, W.R., Manchester Johnson, Rev. W.W., M.A., Manchester Jones, Jos., Jun., Hathershaw, Oldham Jones, W., Manchester Jordan, Joseph, Manchester Kay, James, Turton Tower, Bolton Kay, Samuel, Manchester Kelsall, Strettle, Manchester Kendrick, James, M.D., F.L.S., Warrington Kennedy, John, Ardwick House, near Manchester Ker, George Portland, Salford Kershaw, James, Green Heys, near Manchester Kidd, Rev. W.J., M.A., Didsbury, near Manchester Langton, William, Manchester Larden, Rev. G.E., M.A., Brotherton Vicarage, Yorkshire Leeming, W.B., Salford Legh, G. Cornwall, M.P., F.G.S., High Legh, Cheshire Legh, Rev. Peter, M.A., Newton in Makerfield Leigh, Rev. Edward Trafford, M.A., Cheadle, Cheshire Leigh, Henry, Moorfield Cottage, Worsley Leresche, J.H., Manchester Lloyd, William Horton, F.S.A., L.S., Park-square, London Lloyd, Edward Jeremiah, Oldfield House, Altringham Lomas, Edward, Manchester Lomax, Robert, Harwood, near Bolton Love, Benjamin, Manchester Lowndes, William, Egremont, Liverpool Loyd, Edward, Green Hill, Manchester Lycett, W.E., Manchester Lyon, Edmund, M.D., Manchester Lyon, Thomas, Appleton Hall, Warrington McClure, William, Peel Cottage, Eccles McFarlane, John, Manchester McKenzie, John Whitefoord, Edinburgh McVicar, John, Manchester Mann, Robert, Manchester Marc, E.R. Le, School Lodge, Cheshire Markland, J.H., F.R.S., F.S.A., Bath Markland, Thomas, Mab Field, near Manchester Marsden, G.E., Manchester Marsden, William, Manchester Marsh, John Fitchett, Warrington Marshall, Miss, Ardwick, near Manchester Marshall, William, Penwortham Hall, Preston Marshall, Frederick Earnshaw, Ditto Marshall, John, Ditto Mason, Thomas, Copt Hewick, near Ripon Master, Rev. Robert M., M.A., Burnley Maude, Daniel, M.A., Salford Millar, Thomas, Green Heys, near Manchester Molyneux, Edward, Chetham Hill, Manchester Monk, John, Manchester Moore, John, F.L.S., Cornbrook, near Manchester Mosley, Sir Oswald, Bart., Rolleston Hall, Staffordshire Murray, James, Manchester Nield, William, Mayfield, Manchester Nelson, George, Manchester Neville, James, Beardwood, near Blackburn Newall, Mrs. Robert, Littleborough, near Rochdale Newall, W.N., Wellington Lodge, Littleborough Newbery, Henry, Manchester Nicholson, William, Thelwall Hall, Warrington Norris, Edward, Manchester Norwich, The Bishop of Ormerod, George, D.C.L., F.R.S., F.S.A., F.G.S., Sedbury Park, Gloucestershire Ormerod, George Wareing, M.A., F.G.S., Manchester Ormerod, Henry Mere, Manchester Owen, John, Manchester Parkinson, Rev. Richard, B.D., Canon of Manchester Patten, J. Wilson, M.P., Bank Hall, Warrington Pedley, Rev. J.T., M.A., Peakirk-cum-Glinton, Market Deeping Peel, Sir Robert, Bart., M.P., Drayton Manor Peel, George, Brookfield, Cheadle Peel, Joseph, Singleton Brook, near Manchester Peet, Thomas, Manchester Pegge, John, Newton Heath, near Manchester Percival, Stanley, Liverpool Philips, Mark, M.P., The Park, Manchester Philippi, Frederick Theod., Belfield Hall, near Rochdale Phillips, Shakspeare, Barlow Hall, near Manchester Phillipps, Sir Thomas, Bart., Middle Hill, Worcestershire Piccope, Rev. John, M.A., Farndon, Cheshire Pickford, Thomas, Mayfield, Manchester Pickford, Thomas E., Manchester Pierpoint, Benjamin, Warrington Pilkington, George, Manchester Pilling, Charles R., Caius College, Cambridge Plant, George, Manchester Pooley, Edward, Manchester Pooley, John, Hulme, near Manchester Porrett, Robert, Tower, London Prescott, J.C., Summerville, near Manchester Price, John Thomas, Manchester Radford, Thomas, M.D., Higher Broughton, near Manchester Raffles, Rev. Thomas, D.D., LL.D., Liverpool Raikes, Rev. Henry, M.A., Hon. Can., and Chancellor of Chester Raines, Rev. F.R., M.A., F.S.A., Milnrow Parsonage, Rochdale Reiss, Leopold, High Field, near Manchester Rickards, Charles H., Manchester Ridgway, Mrs., Ridgemont, near Bolton Ridgway, John Withenshaw, Manchester Robson, John, Warrington Roberts, W.J., Liverpool Roby, John, M.R.S.L., Rochdale Royds, Albert Hudson, Rochdale Samuels, John, Manchester Sattersfield, Joshua, Manchester Scholes, Thomas Seddon, High Bank, near Manchester Schuster, Leo, Weaste, near Manchester Sharp, John, Lancaster Sharp, Robert C., Bramall Hall, Cheshire Sharp, Thomas B., Manchester Sharp, William, Lancaster Sharp, William, London Simms, Charles S., Manchester Simms, George, Manchester Skaife, John, Blackburn Skelmersdale, The Lord, Lathom House Smith, Rev. Jeremiah, D.D., Leamington Smith, Junius, Strangeways Hall, Manchester Smith, J.R., Old Compton-street, London Sowler, R.S., Manchester Sowler, Thomas, Manchester Spear, John, Manchester Standish, W.J., Duxbury Hall, Chorley Stanley, The Lord, Knowsley Sudlow, John, Jun., Manchester Swain, Charles, M.R.S.L., Cheetwood Priory, near Manchester Swanwick, Josh. W., Hollins Vale, Bury, Lancashire Tabley, The Lord De, Tabley, Cheshire Tattershall, Rev. Thomas, D.D., Liverpool Tatton, Thos., Withenshaw, Cheshire Tayler, Rev. John James, B.A., Manchester Taylor, Thomas Frederick, Wigan Teale, Josh., Salford Thomson, James, Manchester Thorley, George, Manchester Thorpe, Robert, Manchester Tobin, Rev. John, M.A., Liscard, Cheshire Townend, John, Polygon, Manchester Townend, Thomas, Polygon, Manchester Turnbull, W.B., D.D., Edinburgh Turner, Samuel, F.R.S, F.S.A., F.G.S., Liverpool Turner, Thomas, Manchester Vitrè, Edward Denis De, M.D., Lancaster Walker, John, Weaste, near Manchester Walker, Samuel, Prospect Hill, Pendleton Wanklyn, J.B., Salford Wanklyn, James H., Crumpsall House, near Manchester Warburton, R.E.E., Arley Hall, near Northwich Ware, Samuel Hibbert, M.D., F.R.S.E., Edinburgh Wareing, Ralph, Manchester Westhead, Joshua P., Manchester Whitehead, James, Manchester Whitelegg, Rev. William, M.A., Hulme, near Manchester Whitmore, Edward, Jun., Manchester Whitmore, Henry, Manchester Wilson, William James, Manchester Wilton, The Earl of, Heaton House Winter, Gilbert, Stocks, near Manchester Worthington, Edward, Manchester Wray, Rev. Cecil Daniel, M.A., Canon of Manchester Wright, Rev. Henry, M.A., Mottram, St. Andrew's, near Macclesfield Wroe, Thomas, Manchester Yates, Joseph B., West Dingle, Liverpool Yates, Richard, Manchester * * * * * WORKS PUBLISHED BY THE CHETHAM SOCIETY FOR THE YEAR 1843. Brereton's Travels. The Lancashire Civil War Tracts. Chester's Triumph in Honor of her Prince. * * * * * WORKS IN THE PRESS. Pott's Discovery of Witches in the County of Lancaster, from the edition of 1613. The Life of the Rev. Adam Martindale, Vicar of Rostherne, in Cheshire, from the MS. in the British Museum. (4239 Ascough's Catalogue.) Dee's Compendious Rehearsal, and other Autobiographical Tracts, not included in the recent Publication of the Camden Society edited by Mr. Halliwell, with his Collected correspondence. Iter Lancastrense, by Dr. Richard James; an English Poem, written in 1636, containing a Metrical Account of some of the Principal Families and Mansions in Lancashire; from the unpublished MS. in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. * * * * * WORKS SUGGESTED FOR PUBLICATION. Selections from the Unpublished Correspondence of the Rev. John Whittaker, Author of the History of Manchester, and other Works. More's (George) Discourse concerning the Possession and Dispossession of Seven Persons in one Family in Lancashire, from a Manuscript formerly belonging to Thoresby, and which gives a much fuller Account of that Transaction than the Printed Tract of 1600; with a Bibliographical and Critical Review of the Tracts in the Darrel Controversy. A Selection of the most Curious Papers and Tracts relating to the Pretender's Stay in Manchester in 1745, in Print and Manuscript. Proceedings of the Presbyterian Classis of Manchester and the Neighbourhood, from 1646 to 1660, from an Unpublished Manuscript. Catalogue of the Alchemical Library of John Webster, of Clitheroe, from a Manuscript in the Rev. T. Corser's possession; with a fuller Life of him, and List of his Works, than has yet appeared. Correspondence between Samuel Hartlib (the Friend of Milton), and Dr. Worthington, of Jesus College, Cambridge (a native of Manchester), from 1655 to 1661, on various Literary Subjects. "Antiquities concerning Cheshire," by Randall Minshull, written A.D. 1591, from a MS. in the Gough Collection. Register of the Lancaster Priory, from a MS. (No. 3764) in the Harleian Collection. Selections from the Visitations of Lancashire in 1533, 1567, and 1613, in the Herald's College, British Museum, Bodleian, and Caius College Libraries. Selections from Dodsworth's MSS. in the Bodleian Library, Randal Holmes's Collections for Lancashire and Cheshire (MSS. Harleian), and Warburton's Collections for Cheshire (MSS. Lansdown). Annales Cestrienses, or Chronicle of St. Werburgh, from the MS. in the British Museum. A Reprint of Henry Bradshaw's Life and History of St. Werburgh, from the very rare 4to of 1521, printed by Pynson. The Letters and Correspondence of Sir William Brereton, from the original MSS., in 5 vols. folio, in the British Museum. A Poem, by Laurence Bostock, on the subject of the Saxon and Norman Earls of Chester. Bishop Gastrell's Notitia Cestriensis, on the subject of the Ecclesiastical Antiquities of the Diocese of Chester, from the original MS. History of the Earldom of Chester, collected by Archbishop Parker, entitled De Successione Comitum Cestriæ a Hugone Lupo ad Johannem Scoticum, from the original MS. in Ben'et College Library, Cambridge. Volume of Funeral Certificates of Lancashire and Cheshire. Volume of Early Lancashire and Cheshire Wills. A Selection of Papers relating to the Rebellion of 1715, including Clarke's Journal of the March of the Rebels from Carlisle to Preston. A Memoir of the Chetham Family, from original documents. The Diary of the Rev. Henry Newcome, M.A., from the original MS. in the possession of his descendant, the Rev. Thomas Newcome, M.A., Rector of Shenley, Herts. Lucianus Monacus de laude Cestrie, a Latin MS. of the 13th century, descriptive of the walls, gates, &c., of the City of Chester, formerly belonging to Thomas Allen, DD., and now in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. Richard Robinson's Golden Mirrour, Bk. lett. 4to. Lond., 1580. Containing Poems on the Etymology of the names of several Cheshire Families; from the exceedingly rare copy formerly in the collection of Richard Heber, Esq., (see Cat. pt. iv. 2413,) and now in the British Museum. A volume of the early Ballad Poetry of Lancashire. The Coucher Book of Whalley Abbey. [Illustration] 
14461	----	Proofreading Team LETTERS ON DEMONOLOGY AND WITCHCRAFT BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. With An Introduction By Henry Morley Ll.d., Professor Of English Literature At University College, London London George Routledge And Sons Broadway, Ludgate Hill New York: 9 Lafayette Place 1884 INTRODUCTION. Sir Walter Scott's "Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft" were his contribution to a series of books, published by John Murray, which appeared between the years 1829 and 1847, and formed a collection of eighty volumes known as "Murray's Family Library." The series was planned to secure a wide diffusion of good literature in cheap five-shilling volumes, and Scott's "Letters," written and published in 1830, formed one of the earlier books in the collection. The Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge had been founded in the autumn of 1826, and Charles Knight, who had then conceived a plan of a National Library, was entrusted, in July, 1827, with the superintendence of its publications. Its first treatises appeared in sixpenny numbers, once a fortnight. Its "British Almanac" and "Companion to the Almanac" first appeared at the beginning of 1829. Charles Knight started also in that year his own "Library of Entertaining Knowledge." John Murray's "Family Library" was then begun, and in the spring of 1832--the year of the Reform Bill--the advance of civilization by the diffusion of good literature, through cheap journals as well as cheap books, was sought by the establishment of "Chambers's Edinburgh Journal" in the North, and in London of "The Penny Magazine." In the autumn of that year, 1832, on the 21st of September, Sir Walter Scott died. The first warning of death had come to him in February, 1830, with a stroke of apoplexy. He had been visited by an old friend who brought him memoirs of her father, which he had promised to revise for the press. He seemed for half an hour to be bending over the papers at his desk, and reading them; then he rose, staggered into the drawing-room, and fell, remaining speechless until he had been bled. Dieted for weeks on pulse and water, he so far recovered that to friends outside his family but little change in him was visible. In that condition, in the month after his seizure, he was writing these Letters, and also a fourth series of the "Tales of a Grandfather." The slight softening of the brain found after death had then begun. But the old delight in anecdote and skill in story-telling that, at the beginning of his career, had caused a critic of his "Border Minstrelsy" to say that it contained the germs of a hundred romances, yet survived. It gave to Scott's "Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft" what is for us now a pathetic charm. Here and there some slight confusion of thought or style represents the flickering of a light that flashes yet with its old brilliancy. There is not yet the manifest suggestion of the loss of power that we find presently afterwards in "Count Robert of Paris" and "Castle Dangerous," published in 1831 as the Fourth Series of "Tales of My Landlord," with which he closed his life's work at the age of sixty. Milton has said that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem. Scott's life was a true poem, of which the music entered into all he wrote. If in his earlier days the consciousness of an unlimited productive power tempted him to make haste to be rich, that he might work out, as founder of a family, an ideal of life touched by his own genius of romance, there was not in his desire for gain one touch of sordid greed, and his ideal of life only brought him closer home to all its duties. Sir Walter Scott's good sense, as Lord Cockburn said, was a more wonderful gift than his genius. When the mistake of a trade connection with James Ballantyne brought ruin to him in 1826, he repudiated bankruptcy, took on himself the burden of a debt of £130,000, and sacrificed his life to the successful endeavour to pay off all. What was left unpaid at his death was cleared afterwards by the success of his annotated edition of his novels. No tale of physical strife in the battlefield could be as heroic as the story of the close of Scott's life, with five years of a death-struggle against adversity, animated by the truest sense of honour. When the ruin was impending he wrote in his diary, "If things go badly in London, the magic wand of the Unknown will be shivered in his grasp. The feast of fancy will be over with the feeling of independence. He shall no longer have the delight of waking in the morning with bright ideas in his mind, hasten to commit them to paper, and count them monthly, as the means of planting such scaurs and purchasing such wastes; replacing dreams of fiction by other prospective visions of walks by 'Fountain-heads, and pathless groves; Places which pale passion loves.' This cannot be; but I may work substantial husbandry--_i.e._ write history, and such concerns." It was under pressure of calamity like this that Sir Walter Scott was compelled to make himself known as the author of "Waverley." Closely upon this followed the death of his wife, his thirty years' companion. "I have been to her room," he wrote in May, 1826; "there was no voice in it--no stirring; the pressure of the coffin was visible on the bed, but it had been removed elsewhere; all was neat as she loved it, but all was calm--calm as death. I remembered the last sight of her: she raised herself in bed, and tried to turn her eyes after me, and said with a sort of smile, 'You have all such melancholy faces.' These were the last words I ever heard her utter, and I hurried away, for she did not seem quite conscious of what she said; when I returned, immediately departing, she was in a deep sleep. It is deeper now. This was but seven days since. They are arranging the chamber of death--that which was long the apartment of connubial happiness, and of whose arrangement (better than in richer houses) she was so proud. They are treading fast and thick. For weeks you could have heard a footfall. Oh, my God!" A few years yet of his own battle, while the shadows of night and death were gathering about him, and they were re-united. In these "Letters upon Demonology and Witchcraft," addressed to his son-in-law, written under the first grasp of death, the old kindliness and good sense, joined to the old charm in story-telling, stand firm yet against every assault; and even in the decay that followed, when the powers were broken of the mind that had breathed, and is still breathing, its own health into the minds of tens of thousands of his countrymen, nothing could break the fine spirit of love and honour that was in him. When the end was very near, and the son-in-law to whom these Letters were addressed found him one morning entirely himself, though in the last extreme of feebleness: his eye was clear and calm--every trace of the wild fire of delirium was extinguished: "Lockhart," he said, "I may have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good man--be virtuous, be religious--be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here." Another volume of this Library may give occasion to recall Scott in the noontide of his strength, companion of "The blameless Muse who trains her sons For hope and calm enjoyment." Here we remember only how from among dark clouds the last light of his genius shone on the path of those who were endeavouring to make the daily bread of intellectual life--good books--common to all. H.M. _February, 1884._ LETTERS ON DEMONOLOGY AND WITCHCRAFT To J.G. LOCKHART, ESQ. LETTER I. Origin of the general Opinions respecting Demonology among Mankind--The Belief in the Immortality of the Soul is the main inducement to credit its occasional re-appearance--The Philosophical Objections to the Apparition of an Abstract Spirit little understood by the Vulgar and Ignorant--The situations of excited Passion incident to Humanity, which teach Men to wish or apprehend Supernatural Apparitions--They are often presented by the Sleeping Sense--Story of Somnambulism--The Influence of Credulity contagious, so that Individuals will trust the Evidence of others in despite of their own Senses--Examples from the "Historia Verdadera" of Bernal Dias del Castillo, and from the Works of Patrick Walker--The apparent Evidence of Intercourse with the Supernatural World is sometimes owing to a depraved State of the bodily Organs--Difference between this Disorder and Insanity, in which the Organs retain their tone, though that of the Mind is lost--Rebellion of the Senses of a Lunatic against the current of his Reveries--Narratives of a contrary Nature, in which the Evidence of the Eyes overbore the Conviction of the Understanding--Example of a London Man of Pleasure--Of Nicolai, the German Bookseller and Philosopher--Of a Patient of Dr. Gregory--Of an Eminent Scottish Lawyer, deceased--Of this same fallacious Disorder are other instances, which have but sudden and momentary endurance--Apparition of Maupertuis--Of a late illustrious modern Poet--The Cases quoted chiefly relating to false Impressions on the Visual Nerve, those upon the Ear next considered--Delusions of the Touch chiefly experienced in Sleep--Delusions of the Taste--And of the Smelling--Sum of the Argument. You have asked of me, my dear friend, that I should assist the "Family Library" with the history of a dark chapter in human nature, which the increasing civilization of all well-instructed countries has now almost blotted out, though the subject attracted no ordinary degree of consideration in the older times of their history. Among much reading of my earlier days, it is no doubt true that I travelled a good deal in the twilight regions of superstitious disquisitions. Many hours have I lost--"I would their debt were less!"--in examining old as well as more recent narratives of this character, and even in looking into some of the criminal trials so frequent in early days, upon a subject which our fathers considered as a matter of the last importance. And, of late years, the very curious extracts published by Mr. Pitcairn, from the Criminal Records of Scotland, are, besides their historical value, of a nature so much calculated to illustrate the credulity of our ancestors on such subjects, that, by perusing them, I have been induced more recently to recall what I had read and thought upon the subject at a former period. As, however, my information is only miscellaneous, and I make no pretensions, either to combat the systems of those by whom I am anticipated in consideration of the subject, or to erect any new one of my own, my purpose is, after a general account of Demonology and Witchcraft, to confine myself to narratives of remarkable cases, and to the observations which naturally and easily arise out of them;--in the confidence that such a plan is, at the present time of day, more likely to suit the pages of a popular miscellany, than an attempt to reduce the contents of many hundred tomes, from the largest to the smallest size, into an abridgement, which, however compressed, must remain greatly too large for the reader's powers of patience. A few general remarks on the nature of Demonology, and the original cause of the almost universal belief in communication betwixt mortals and beings of a power superior to themselves, and of a nature not to be comprehended by human organs, are a necessary introduction to the subject. The general, or, it may be termed, the universal belief of the inhabitants of the earth, in the existence of spirits separated from the encumbrance and incapacities of the body, is grounded on the consciousness of the divinity that speaks in our bosoms, and demonstrates to all men, except the few who are hardened to the celestial voice, that there is within us a portion of the divine substance, which is not subject to the law of death and dissolution, but which, when the body is no longer fit for its abode, shall seek its own place, as a sentinel dismissed from his post. Unaided by revelation, it cannot be hoped that mere earthly reason should be able to form any rational or precise conjecture concerning the destination of the soul when parted from the body; but the conviction that such an indestructible essence exists, the belief expressed by the poet in a different sense, _Non omnis moriar_ must infer the existence of many millions of spirits who have not been annihilated, though they have become invisible to mortals who still see, hear, and perceive, only by means of the imperfect organs of humanity. Probability may lead some of the most reflecting to anticipate a state of future rewards and punishments; as those experienced in the education of the deaf and dumb find that their pupils, even while cut off from all instruction by ordinary means, have been able to form, out of their own unassisted conjectures, some ideas of the existence of a Deity, and of the distinction between the soul and body--a circumstance which proves how naturally these truths arise in the human mind. The principle that they do so arise, being taught or communicated, leads to further conclusions. These spirits, in a state of separate existence, being admitted to exist, are not, it may be supposed, indifferent to the affairs of mortality, perhaps not incapable of influencing them. It is true that, in a more advanced state of society, the philosopher may challenge the possibility of a separate appearance of a disembodied spirit, unless in the case of a direct miracle, to which, being a suspension of the laws of nature, directly wrought by the Maker of these laws, for some express purpose, no bound or restraint can possibly be assigned. But under this necessary limitation and exception, philosophers might plausibly argue that, when the soul is divorced from the body, it loses all those qualities which made it, when clothed with a mortal shape, obvious to the organs of its fellow-men. The abstract idea of a spirit certainly implies that it has neither substance, form, shape, voice, or anything which can render its presence visible or sensible to human faculties. But these sceptic doubts of philosophers on the possibility of the appearance of such separated spirits, do not arise till a certain degree of information has dawned upon a country, and even then only reach a very small proportion of reflecting and better-informed members of society. To the multitude, the indubitable fact, that so many millions of spirits exist around and even amongst us, seems sufficient to support the belief that they are, in certain instances at least, by some means or other, able to communicate with the world of humanity. The more numerous part of mankind cannot form in their mind the idea of the spirit of the deceased existing, without possessing or having the power to assume the appearance which their acquaintance bore during his life, and do not push their researches beyond this point. Enthusiastic feelings of an impressive and solemn nature occur both in private and public life, which seem to add ocular testimony to an intercourse betwixt earth and the world beyond it. For example, the son who has been lately deprived of his father feels a sudden crisis approach, in which he is anxious to have recourse to his sagacious advice--or a bereaved husband earnestly desires again to behold the form of which the grave has deprived him for ever--or, to use a darker yet very common instance, the wretched man who has dipped his hand in his fellow-creature's blood, is haunted by the apprehension that the phantom of the slain stands by the bedside of his murderer. In all or any of these cases, who shall doubt that imagination, favoured by circumstances, has power to summon up to the organ of sight, spectres which only exist in the mind of those by whom their apparition seems to be witnessed? If we add, that such a vision may take place in the course of one of those lively dreams in which the patient, except in respect to the single subject of one strong impression, is, or seems, sensible of the real particulars of the scene around him, a state of slumber which often occurs; if he is so far conscious, for example, as to know that he is lying on his own bed, and surrounded by his own familiar furniture at the time when the supposed apparition is manifested, it becomes almost in vain to argue with the visionary against the reality of his dream, since the spectre, though itself purely fanciful, is inserted amidst so many circumstances which he feels must be true beyond the reach of doubt or question. That which is undeniably certain becomes, in a manner, a warrant for the reality of the appearance to which doubt would have been otherwise attached. And if any event, such as the death of the person dreamt of, chances to take place, so as to correspond with the nature and the time of the apparition, the coincidence, though one which must be frequent, since our dreams usually refer to the accomplishment of that which haunts our minds when awake, and often presage the most probable events, seems perfect, and the chain of circumstances touching the evidence may not unreasonably be considered as complete. Such a concatenation, we repeat, must frequently take place, when it is considered of what stuff dreams are made--how naturally they turn upon those who occupy our mind while awake, and, when a soldier is exposed to death in battle, when a sailor is incurring the dangers of the sea, when a beloved wife or relative is attacked by disease, how readily our sleeping imagination rushes to the very point of alarm, which when waking it had shuddered to anticipate. The number of instances in which such lively dreams have been quoted, and both asserted and received as spiritual communications, is very great at all periods; in ignorant times, where the natural cause of dreaming is misapprehended and confused with an idea of mysticism, it is much greater. Yet, perhaps, considering the many thousands of dreams which must, night after night, pass through the imagination of individuals, the number of coincidences between the vision and real event are fewer and less remarkable than a fair calculation of chances would warrant us to expect. But in countries where such presaging dreams are subjects of attention, the number of those which seemed to be coupled with the corresponding issue, is large enough to spread a very general belief of a positive communication betwixt the living and the dead. Somnambulism and other nocturnal deceptions frequently lend their aid to the formation of such _phantasmata_ as are formed in this middle state, betwixt sleeping and waking. A most respectable person, whose active life had been spent as master and part owner of a large merchant vessel in the Lisbon trade, gave the writer an account of such an instance which came under his observation. He was lying in the Tagus, when he was put to great anxiety and alarm by the following incident and its consequences. One of his crew was murdered by a Portuguese assassin, and a report arose that the ghost of the slain man haunted the vessel. Sailors are generally superstitious, and those of my friend's vessel became unwilling to remain on board the ship; and it was probable they might desert rather then return to England with the ghost for a passenger. To prevent so great a calamity, the captain determined to examine the story to the bottom. He soon found that, though all pretended to have seen lights and heard noises, and so forth, the weight of the evidence lay upon the statement of one of his own mates, an Irishman and a Catholic, which might increase his tendency to superstition, but in other respects a veracious, honest, and sensible person, whom Captain ----had no reason to suspect would wilfully deceive him. He affirmed to Captain S---- with the deepest obtestations, that the spectre of the murdered man appeared to him almost nightly, took him from his place in the vessel, and, according to his own expression, worried his life out. He made these communications with a degree of horror which intimated the reality of his distress and apprehensions. The captain, without any argument at the time, privately resolved to watch the motions of the ghost-seer in the night; whether alone, or with a witness, I have forgotten. As the ship bell struck twelve, the sleeper started up, with a ghastly and disturbed countenance, and lighting a candle, proceeded to the galley or cook-room of the vessel. He sate down with his eyes open, staring before him as on some terrible object which he beheld with horror, yet from which he could not withhold his eyes. After a short space he arose, took up a tin can or decanter, filled it with water, muttering to himself all the while--mixed salt in the water, and sprinkled it about the galley. Finally, he sighed deeply, like one relieved from a heavy burden, and, returning to his hammock, slept soundly. In the next morning the haunted man told the usual precise story of his apparition, with the additional circumstances, that the ghost had led him to the galley, but that he had fortunately, he knew not how, obtained possession of some holy water, and succeeded in getting rid of his unwelcome visitor. The visionary was then informed of the real transactions of the night, with so many particulars as to satisfy him he had been the dupe of his imagination; he acquiesced in his commander's reasoning, and the dream, as often happens in these cases, returned no more after its imposture had been detected. In this case, we find the excited imagination acting upon the half-waking senses, which were intelligent enough for the purpose of making him sensible where he was, but not sufficiently so to judge truly of the objects before him. But it is not only private life alone, or that tenor of thought which has been depressed into melancholy by gloomy anticipations respecting the future, which disposes the mind to mid-day fantasies, or to nightly apparitions--a state of eager anxiety, or excited exertion, is equally favourable to the indulgence of such supernatural communications. The anticipation of a dubious battle, with all the doubt and uncertainty of its event, and the conviction that it must involve his own fate and that of his country, was powerful enough to conjure up to the anxious eye of Brutus the spectre of his murdered friend Cæsar, respecting whose death he perhaps thought himself less justified than at the Ides of March, since, instead of having achieved the freedom of Rome, the event had only been the renewal of civil wars, and the issue might appear most likely to conclude in the total subjection of liberty. It is not miraculous that the masculine spirit of Marcus Brutus, surrounded by darkness and solitude, distracted probably by recollection of the kindness and favour of the great individual whom he had put to death to avenge the wrongs of his country, though by the slaughter of his own friend, should at length place before his eyes in person the appearance which termed itself his evil genius, and promised again to meet him at Philippi. Brutus' own intentions, and his knowledge of the military art, had probably long since assured him that the decision of the civil war must take place at or near that place; and, allowing that his own imagination supplied that part of his dialogue with the spectre, there is nothing else which might not be fashioned in a vivid dream or a waking reverie, approaching, in absorbing and engrossing character, the usual matter of which dreams consist. That Brutus, well acquainted with the opinions of the Platonists, should be disposed to receive without doubt the idea that he had seen a real apparition, and was not likely to scrutinize very minutely the supposed vision, may be naturally conceived; and it is also natural to think, that although no one saw the figure but himself, his contemporaries were little disposed to examine the testimony of a man so eminent, by the strict rules of cross-examination and conflicting evidence, which they might have thought applicable to another person, and a less dignified occasion. Even in the field of death, and amid the mortal tug of combat itself, strong belief has wrought the same wonder, which we have hitherto mentioned as occurring in solitude and amid darkness; and those who were themselves on the verge of the world of spirits, or employed in dispatching others to these gloomy regions, conceived they beheld the apparitions of those beings whom their national mythology associated with such scenes. In such moments of undecided battle, amid the violence, hurry, and confusion of ideas incident to the situation, the ancients supposed that they saw their deities, Castor and Pollux, fighting in the van for their encouragement; the heathen Scandinavian beheld the Choosers of the slain; and the Catholics were no less easily led to recognize the warlike Saint George or Saint James in the very front of the strife, showing them the way to conquest. Such apparitions being generally visible to a multitude, have in all times been supported by the greatest strength of testimony. When the common feeling of danger, and the animating burst of enthusiasm, act on the feelings of many men at once, their minds hold a natural correspondence with each other, as it is said is the case with stringed instruments tuned to the same pitch, of which, when one is played, the chords of the others are supposed to vibrate in unison with the tones produced. If an artful or enthusiastic individual exclaims, in the heat of action, that he perceives an apparition of the romantic kind which has been intimated, his companions catch at the idea with emulation, and most are willing to sacrifice the conviction of their own senses, rather than allow that they did not witness the same favourable emblem, from which all draw confidence and hope. One warrior catches the idea from another; all are alike eager to acknowledge the present miracle, and the battle is won before the mistake is discovered. In such cases, the number of persons present, which would otherwise lead to detection of the fallacy, becomes the means of strengthening it. Of this disposition, to see as much of the supernatural as is seen by others around, or, in other words, to trust to the eyes of others rather than to our own, we may take the liberty to quote two remarkable instances. The first is from the "Historia Verdadera" of Don Bernal Dias del Castillo, one of the companions of the celebrated Cortez in his Mexican conquest. After having given an account of a great victory over extreme odds, he mentions the report inserted in the contemporary Chronicle of Gomara, that Saint Iago had appeared on a white horse in van of the combat, and led on his beloved Spaniards to victory. It is very curious to observe the Castilian cavalier's internal conviction that the rumour arose out of a mistake, the cause of which he explains from his own observation; whilst, at the same time, he does not venture to disown the miracle. The honest Conquestador owns that he himself did not see this animating vision; nay, that he beheld an individual cavalier, named Francisco de Morla, mounted on a chestnut horse, and fighting strenuously in the very place where Saint James is said to have appeared. But instead of proceeding to draw the necessary inference, the devout Conquestador exclaims--"Sinner that I am, what am I that I should have beheld the blessed apostle!" The other instance of the infectious character of superstition occurs in a Scottish book, and there can be little doubt that it refers, in its first origin, to some uncommon appearance of the aurora borealis, or the northern lights, which do not appear to have been seen in Scotland so frequently as to be accounted a common and familiar atmospherical phenomenon, until the beginning of the eighteenth century. The passage is striking and curious, for the narrator, Peter Walker, though an enthusiast, was a man of credit, and does not even affect to have seen the wonders, the reality of which he unscrupulously adopts on the testimony of others, to whose eyes he trusted rather than to his own. The conversion of the sceptical gentleman of whom he speaks is highly illustrative of popular credulity carried away into enthusiasm, or into imposture, by the evidence of those around, and at once shows the imperfection of such a general testimony, and the ease with which it is procured, since the general excitement of the moment impels even the more cold-blooded and judicious persons present to catch up the ideas and echo the exclamations of the majority, who, from the first, had considered the heavenly phenomenon as a supernatural weapon-schaw, held for the purpose of a sign and warning of civil wars to come. "In the year 1686, in the months of June and July," says the honest chronicler, "many yet alive can witness that about the Crossford Boat, two miles beneath Lanark, especially at the Mains, on the water of Clyde, many people gathered together for several afternoons, where there were showers of bonnets, hats, guns, and swords, which covered the trees and the ground; companies of men in arms marching in order upon the waterside; companies meeting companies, going all through other, and then all falling to the ground and disappearing; other companies immediately appeared, marching the same way. I went there three afternoons together, and, as I observed, there were two-thirds of the people that were together saw, and a third that saw not; and, _though I could see nothing_, there was such a fright and trembling on those that did see, that was discernible to all from those that saw not. There was a gentleman standing next to me who spoke as too many gentlemen and others speak, who said, 'A pack of damned witches and warlocks that have the second sight! the devil ha't do I see;' and immediately there was a discernible change in his countenance. With as much fear and trembling as any woman I saw there, he called out, 'All you that do not see, say nothing; for I persuade you it is matter of fact, and discernible to all that is not stone-blind.' And those who did see told what works (_i.e._, locks) the guns had, and their length and wideness, and what handles the swords had, whether small or three-barr'd, or Highland guards, and the closing knots of the bonnets, black or blue; and those who did see them there, whenever they went abroad, saw a bonnet and a sword drop in the way."[1] [Footnote 1: Walker's "Lives," Edinburgh, 1827, vol. i. p. xxxvi. It is evident that honest Peter believed in the apparition of this martial gear on the principle of Partridge's terror for the ghost of Hamlet--not that he was afraid himself, but because Garrick showed such evident marks of terror.] This singular phenomenon, in which a multitude believed, although only two-thirds of them saw what must, if real, have been equally obvious to all, may be compared with the exploit of the humourist, who planted himself in an attitude of astonishment, with his eyes riveted on the well-known bronze lion that graces the front of Northumberland House in the Strand, and having attracted the attention of those who looked at him by muttering, "By heaven it wags! it wags again!" contrived in a few minutes to blockade the whole street with an immense crowd, some conceiving that they had absolutely seen the lion of Percy wag his tail, others expecting' to witness the same phenomenon. On such occasions as we have hitherto mentioned, we have supposed that the ghost-seer has been in full possession of his ordinary powers of perception, unless in the case of dreamers, in whom they may have been obscured by temporary slumber, and the possibility of correcting vagaries of the imagination rendered more difficult by want of the ordinary appeal to the evidence of the bodily senses. In other respects their blood beat temperately, they possessed the ordinary capacity of ascertaining the truth or discerning the falsehood of external appearances by an appeal to the organ of sight. Unfortunately, however, as is now universally known and admitted, there certainly exists more than one disorder known to professional men of which one important symptom is a disposition to see apparitions. This frightful disorder is not properly insanity, although it is somewhat allied to that most horrible of maladies, and may, in many constitutions, be the means of bringing it on, and although such hallucinations are proper to both. The difference I conceive to be that, in cases of insanity, the mind of the patient is principally affected, while the senses, or organic system, offer in vain to the lunatic their decided testimony against the fantasy of a deranged imagination. Perhaps the nature of this collision--between a disturbed imagination and organs of sense possessed of their usual accuracy--cannot be better described than in the embarrassment expressed by an insane patient confined in the Infirmary of Edinburgh. The poor man's malady had taken a gay turn. The house, in his idea, was his own, and he contrived to account for all that seemed inconsistent with his imaginary right of property--there were many patients in it, but that was owing to the benevolence of his nature, which made him love to see the relief of distress. He went little, or rather never abroad--but then his habits were of a domestic and rather sedentary character. He did not see much company--but he daily received visits from the first characters in the renowned medical school of this city, and he could not therefore be much in want of society. With so many supposed comforts around him--with so many visions of wealth and splendour--one thing alone disturbed the peace of the poor optimist, and would indeed have confounded most _bons vivants_. "He was curious," he said, "in his table, choice in his selection of cooks, had every day a dinner of three regular courses and a dessert; and yet, somehow or other, everything he eat _tasted of porridge_." This dilemma could be no great wonder to the friend to whom the poor patient communicated it, who knew the lunatic eat nothing but this simple aliment at any of his meals. The case was obvious. The disease lay in the extreme vivacity of the patient's imagination, deluded in other instances, yet not absolutely powerful enough to contend with the honest evidence of his stomach and palate, which, like Lord Peter's brethren in "The Tale of a Tub," were indignant at the attempt to impose boiled oatmeal upon them, instead of such a banquet as Ude would have displayed when peers were to partake of it. Here, therefore, is one instance of actual insanity, in which the sense of taste controlled and attempted to restrain the ideal hypothesis adopted by a deranged imagination. But the disorder to which I previously alluded is entirely of a bodily character, and consists principally in a disease of the visual organs, which present to the patient a set of spectres or appearances which have no actual existence. It is a disease of the same nature which renders many men incapable of distinguishing colours; only the patients go a step further, and pervert the external form of objects. In their case, therefore, contrary to that of the maniac, it is not the mind, or rather the imagination, which imposes upon and overpowers the evidence of the senses, but the sense of seeing (or hearing) which betrays its duty and conveys false ideas to a sane intellect. More than one learned physician, who have given their attestations to the existence of this most distressing complaint, have agreed that it actually occurs, and is occasioned by different causes. The most frequent source of the malady is in the dissipated and intemperate habits of those who, by a continued series of intoxication, become subject to what is popularly called the Blue Devils, instances of which mental disorder may be known to most who have lived for any period of their lives in society where hard drinking was a common vice. The joyous visions suggested by intoxication when the habit is first acquired, in time disappear, and are supplied by frightful impressions and scenes, which destroy the tranquillity of the unhappy debauchee. Apparitions of the most unpleasant appearance are his companions in solitude, and intrude even upon his hours of society: and when by an alteration of habits, the mind is cleared of these frightful ideas, it requires but the slightest renewal of the association to bring back the full tide of misery upon the repentant libertine. Of this the following instance was told to the author by a gentleman connected with the sufferer. A young man of fortune, who had led what is called so gay a life as considerably to injure both his health and fortune, was at length obliged to consult the physician upon the means of restoring, at least, the former. One of his principal complaints was the frequent presence of a set of apparitions, resembling a band of figures dressed in green, who performed in his drawing-room a singular dance, to which he was compelled to bear witness, though he knew, to his great annoyance, that the whole _corps de ballet_ existed only in his own imagination. His physician immediately informed him that he had lived upon town too long and too fast not to require an exchange to a more healthy and natural course of life. He therefore prescribed a gentle course of medicine, but earnestly recommended to his patient to retire to his own house in the country, observe a temperate diet and early hours, practising regular exercise, on the same principle avoiding fatigue, and assured him that by doing so he might bid adieu to black spirits and white, blue, green, and grey, with all their trumpery. The patient observed the advice, and prospered. His physician, after the interval of a month, received a grateful letter from him, acknowledging the success of his regimen. The greens goblins had disappeared, and with them the unpleasant train of emotions to which their visits had given rise, and the patient had ordered his town-house to be disfurnished and sold, while the furniture was to be sent down to his residence in the country, where he was determined in future to spend his life, without exposing himself to the temptations of town. One would have supposed this a well-devised scheme for health. But, alas! no sooner had the furniture of the London drawing-room been placed in order in the gallery of the old manor-house, than the former delusion returned in full force: the green _figurantés_, whom the patient's depraved imagination had so long associated with these moveables, came capering and frisking to accompany them, exclaiming with great glee, as if the sufferer should have been rejoiced to see them, "Here we all are--here we all are!" The visionary, if I recollect right, was so much shocked at their appearance, that he retired abroad, in despair that any part of Britain could shelter him from the daily persecution of this domestic ballet. There is reason to believe that such cases are numerous, and that they may perhaps arise not only from the debility of stomach brought on by excess in wine or spirits, which derangement often sensibly affects the eyes and sense of sight, but also because the mind becomes habitually predominated over by a train of fantastic visions, the consequence of frequent intoxication; and is thus, like a dislocated joint, apt again to go wrong, even when a different cause occasions the derangement. It is easy to be supposed that habitual excitement by means of any other intoxicating drug, as opium, or its various substitutes, must expose those who practise the dangerous custom to the same inconvenience. Very frequent use of the nitrous oxide which affects the senses so strongly, and produces a short but singular state of ecstasy, would probably be found to occasion this species of disorder. But there are many other causes which medical men find attended with the same symptom, of embodying before the eyes of a patient imaginary illusions which are visible to no one else. This persecution of spectral deceptions is also found to exist when no excesses of the patient can be alleged as the cause, owing, doubtless, to a deranged state of the blood or nervous system. The learned and acute Dr. Ferriar of Manchester was the first who brought before the English public the leading case, as it may be called, in this department, namely, that of Mons. Nicolai, the celebrated bookseller of Berlin. This gentleman was not a man merely of books, but of letters, and had the moral courage to lay before the Philosophical Society of Berlin an account of his own sufferings, from having been, by disease, subjected to a series of spectral illusions. The leading circumstances of this case may be stated very shortly, as it has been repeatedly before the public, and is insisted on by Dr. Ferriar, Dr. Hibbert, and others who have assumed Demonology as a subject. Nicolai traces his illness remotely to a series of disagreeable incidents which had happened to him in the beginning of the year 1791. The depression of spirits which was occasioned by these unpleasant occurrences, was aided by the consequences of neglecting a course of periodical bleeding which he had been accustomed to observe. This state of health brought on the disposition to see _phantasmata_, who visited, or it may be more properly said frequented, the apartments of the learned bookseller, presenting crowds of persons who moved and acted before him, nay, even spoke to and addressed him. These phantoms afforded nothing unpleasant to the imagination of the visionary either in sight or expression, and the patient was possessed of too much firmness to be otherwise affected by their presence than with a species of curiosity, as he remained convinced from the beginning to the end of the disorder, that these singular effects were merely symptoms of the state of his health, and did not in any other respect regard them as a subject of apprehension. After a certain time, and some use of medicine, the phantoms became less distinct in their outline, less vivid in their colouring, faded, as it were, on the eye of the patient, and at length totally disappeared. The case of Nicolai has unquestionably been that of many whose love of science has not been able to overcome their natural reluctance to communicate to the public the particulars attending the visitation of a disease so peculiar. That such illnesses have been experienced, and have ended fatally, there can be no doubt; though it is by no means to be inferred, that the symptom of importance to our present discussion has, on all occasions, been produced from the same identical cause. Dr. Hibbert, who has most ingeniously, as well as philosophically, handled this subject, has treated it also in a medical point of view, with science to which we make no pretence, and a precision of detail to which our superficial investigation affords us no room for extending ourselves. The visitation of spectral phenomena is described by this learned gentleman as incidental to sundry complaints; and he mentions, in particular, that the symptom occurs not only in plethora, as in the case of the learned Prussian we have just mentioned, but is a frequent hectic symptom--often an associate of febrile and inflammatory disorders--frequently accompanying inflammation of the brain--a concomitant also of highly excited nervous irritability--equally connected with hypochondria--and finally united in some cases with gout, and in others with the effects of excitation produced by several gases. In all these cases there seems to be a morbid degree of sensibility, with which this symptom is ready to ally itself, and which, though inaccurate as a medical definition, may be held sufficiently descriptive of one character of the various kinds of disorder with which this painful symptom may be found allied. A very singular and interesting illustration of such combinations as Dr. Hibbert has recorded of the spectral illusion with an actual disorder, and that of a dangerous kind, was frequently related in society by the late learned and accomplished Dr. Gregory of Edinburgh, and sometimes, I believe, quoted by him in his lectures. The narrative, to the author's best recollection, was as follows:--A patient of Dr. Gregory, a person, it is understood, of some rank, having requested the doctor's advice, made the following extraordinary statement of his complaint. "I am in the habit," he said, "of dining at five, and exactly as the hour of six arrives I am subjected to the following painful visitation. The door of the room, even when I have been weak enough to bolt it, which I have sometimes done, flies wide open; an old hag, like one of those who haunted the heath of Forres, enters with a frowning and incensed countenance, comes straight up to me with every demonstration of spite and indignation which could characterize her who haunted the merchant Abudah in the Oriental tale; she rushes upon me, says something, but so hastily that I cannot discover the purport, and then strikes me a severe blow with her staff. I fall from my chair in a swoon, which is of longer or shorter endurance. To the recurrence of this apparition I am daily subjected. And such is my new and singular complaint." The doctor immediately asked whether his patient had invited any one to sit with him when he expected such a visitation. He was answered in the negative. The nature of the complaint, he said, was so singular, it was so likely to be imputed to fancy, or even to mental derangement, that he had shrunk from communicating the circumstance to any one. "Then," said the doctor, "with your permission, I will dine with you to-day, _téte-à-téte_, and we will see if your malignant old woman will venture to join our company." The patient accepted the proposal with hope and gratitude, for he had expected ridicule rather than sympathy. They met at dinner, and Dr. Gregory, who suspected some nervous disorder, exerted his powers of conversation, well known to be of the most varied and brilliant character, to keep the attention of his host engaged, and prevent him from thinking on the approach of the fated hour, to which he was accustomed to look forward with so much terror. He succeeded in his purpose better than he had hoped. The hour of six came almost unnoticed, and it was hoped might pass away without any evil consequence; but it was scarce a moment struck when the owner of the house exclaimed, in an alarmed voice, "The hag comes again!" and dropped back in his chair in a swoon, in the way he had himself described. The physician caused him to be let blood, and satisfied himself that the periodical shocks of which his patient complained arose from a tendency to apoplexy. The phantom with the crutch was only a species of machinery, such as that with which fancy is found to supply the disorder called _Ephialtes_, or nightmare, or indeed any other external impression upon our organs in sleep, which the patient's morbid imagination may introduce into the dream preceding the swoon. In the nightmare an oppression and suffocation is felt, and our fancy instantly conjures up a spectre to lie on our bosom. In like manner it may be remarked, that any sudden noise which the slumberer hears, without being actually awakened by it--any casual touch of his person occurring in the same manner--becomes instantly adopted in his dream, and accommodated to the tenor of the current train of thought, whatever that may happen to be; and nothing is more remarkable than the rapidity with which imagination supplies a complete explanation of the interruption, according to the previous train of ideas expressed in the dream, even when scarce a moment of time is allowed for that purpose. In dreaming, for example, of a duel, the external sound becomes, in the twinkling of an eye, the discharge of the combatants' pistols;--is an orator haranguing in his sleep, the sound becomes the applause of his supposed audience;--is the dreamer wandering among supposed ruins, the noise is that of the fall of some part of the mass. In short, an explanatory system is adopted during sleep with such extreme rapidity, that supposing the intruding alarm to have been the first call of some person to awaken the slumberer, the explanation, though requiring some process of argument or deduction, is usually formed and perfect before the second effort of the speaker has restored the dreamer to the waking world and its realities. So rapid and intuitive is the succession of ideas in sleep, as to remind us of the vision of the prophet Mahommed, in which he saw the whole wonders of heaven and hell, though the jar of water which fell when his ecstasy commenced, had not spilled its contents when he returned to ordinary existence. A second, and equally remarkable instance, was communicated to the author by the medical man under whose observation it fell, but who was, of course, desirous to keep private the name of the hero of so singular a history. Of the friend by whom the facts were attested I can only say, that if I found myself at liberty to name him, the rank which he holds in his profession, as well as his attainments in science and philosophy, form an undisputed claim to the most implicit credit. It was the fortune of this gentleman to be called in to attend the illness of a person now long deceased, who in his lifetime stood, as I understand, high in a particular department of the law, which often placed the property of others at his discretion and control, and whose conduct, therefore, being open to public observation, he had for many years borne the character of a man of unusual steadiness, good sense, and integrity. He was, at the time of my friend's visits, confined principally to his sick-room, sometimes to bed, yet occasionally attending to business, and exerting his mind, apparently with all its usual strength and energy, to the conduct of important affairs intrusted to him; nor did there, to a superficial observer, appear anything in his conduct, while so engaged, that could argue vacillation of intellect, or depression of mind. His outward symptoms of malady argued no acute or alarming disease. But slowness of pulse, absence of appetite, difficulty of digestion, and constant depression of spirits, seemed to draw their origin from some hidden cause, which the patient was determined to conceal. The deep gloom of the unfortunate gentleman--the embarrassment, which he could not conceal from his friendly physician--the briefness and obvious constraint with which he answered the interrogations of his medical adviser, induced my friend to take other methods for prosecuting his inquiries. He applied to the sufferer's family, to learn, if possible, the source of that secret grief which was gnawing the heart and sucking the life-blood of his unfortunate patient. The persons applied to, after conversing together previously, denied all knowledge of any cause for the burden which obviously affected their relative. So far as they knew--and they thought they could hardly be deceived--his worldly affairs were prosperous; no family loss had occurred which could be followed with such persevering distress; no entanglements of affection could be supposed to apply to his age, and no sensation of severe remorse could be consistent with his character. The medical gentleman had finally recourse to serious argument with the invalid himself, and urged to him the folly of devoting himself to a lingering and melancholy death, rather than tell the subject of affliction which was thus wasting him. He specially pressed upon him the injury which he was doing to his own character, by suffering it to be inferred that the secret cause of his dejection and its consequences was something too scandalous or flagitious to be made known, bequeathing in this manner to his family a suspected and dishonoured name, and leaving a memory with which might be associated the idea of guilt, which the criminal had died without confessing. The patient, more moved by this species of appeal than by any which had yet been urged, expressed his desire to speak out frankly to Dr.----. Every one else was removed, and the door of the sick-room made secure, when he began his confession in the following manner:-- "You cannot, my dear friend, be more conscious than I, that I am in the course of dying under the oppression of the fatal disease which consumes my vital powers; but neither can you understand the nature of my complaint, and manner in which it acts upon me, nor, if you did, I fear, could your zeal and skill avail to rid me of it."--"It is possible," said the physician, "that my skill may not equal my wish of serving you; yet medical science has many resources, of which those unacquainted with its powers never can form an estimate. But until you plainly tell me your symptoms of complaint, it is impossible for either of us to say what may or may not be in my power, or within that of medicine."--"I may answer you," replied the patient, "that my case is not a singular one, since we read of it in the famous novel of Le Sage. You remember, doubtless, the disease of which the Duke d'Olivarez is there stated to have died?"--"Of the idea," answered the medical gentleman, "that he was haunted by an apparition, to the actual existence of which he gave no credit, but died, nevertheless, because he was overcome and heart-broken by its imaginary presence."--"I, my dearest doctor," said the sick man, "am in that very case; and so painful and abhorrent is the presence of the persecuting vision, that my reason is totally inadequate to combat the effects of my morbid imagination, and I am sensible I am dying, a wasted victim to an imaginary disease." The medical gentleman listened with anxiety to his patient's statement, and for the present judiciously avoiding any contradiction of the sick man's preconceived fancy, contented himself with more minute inquiry into the nature of the apparition with which he conceived himself haunted, and into the history of the mode by which so singular a disease had made itself master of his imagination, secured, as it seemed, by strong powers of the understanding, against an attack so irregular. The sick person replied by stating that its advances were gradual, and at first not of a terrible or even disagreeable character. To illustrate this, he gave the following account of the progress of his disease:-- "My visions," he said, "commenced two or three years since, when I found myself from time to time embarrassed by the presence of a large cat, which came and disappeared I could not exactly tell how, till the truth was finally forced upon me, and I was compelled to regard it as no domestic household cat, but as a bubble of the elements, which had no existence save in my deranged visual organs or depraved imagination. Still I had not that positive objection to the animal entertained by a late gallant Highland chieftain, who has been seen to change to all the colours of his own plaid if a cat by accident happened to be in the room with him, even though he did not see it. On the contrary, I am rather a friend to cats, and endured with so much equanimity the presence of my imaginary attendant, that it had become almost indifferent to me; when, within the course of a few months, it gave place to, or was succeeded by, a spectre of a more important sort, or which at least had a more imposing appearance. This was no other than the apparition of a gentleman-usher, dressed as if to wait upon a Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, a Lord High Commissioner of the Kirk, or any other who bears on his brow the rank and stamp of delegated sovereignty. "This personage, arrayed in a court dress, with bag and sword, tamboured waistcoat, and chapeau-bras, glided beside me like the ghost of Beau Nash; and, whether in my own house or in another, ascended the stairs before me, as if to announce me in the drawing-room, and at sometimes appeared to mingle with the company, though it was sufficiently evident that they were not aware of his presence, and that I alone was sensible of the visionary honours which this imaginary being seemed desirous to render me. This freak of the fancy did not produce much impression on me, though it led me to entertain doubts on the nature of my disorder and alarm for the effect it might produce on my intellects. But that modification of my disease also had its appointed duration. After a few months the phantom of the gentleman-usher was seen no more, but was succeeded by one horrible to the sight and distressing to the imagination, being no other than the image of death itself--the apparition of a _skeleton_. Alone or in company," said the unfortunate invalid, "the presence of this last phantom never quits me. I in vain tell myself a hundred times over that it is no reality, but merely an image summoned up by the morbid acuteness of my own excited imagination and deranged organs of sight. But what avail such reflections, while the emblem at once and presage of mortality is before my eyes, and while I feel myself, though in fancy only, the companion of a phantom representing a ghastly inhabitant of the grave, even while I yet breathe on the earth? Science, philosophy, even religion, has no cure for such a disorder; and I feel too surely that I shall die the victim to so melancholy a disease, although I have no belief whatever in the reality of the phantom which it places before me." The physician was distressed to perceive, from these details, how strongly this visionary apparition was fixed in the imagination of his patient. He ingeniously urged the sick man, who was then in bed, with questions concerning the circumstances of the phantom's appearance, trusting he might lead him, as a sensible man, into such contradictions and inconsistencies as might bring his common-sense, which seemed to be unimpaired, so strongly into the field as might combat successfully the fantastic disorder which produced such fatal effects. "This skeleton, then," said the doctor, "seems to you to be always present to your eyes?" "It is my fate, unhappily," answered the invalid, "always to see it." "Then I understand," continued the physician, "it is now present to your imagination?" "To my imagination it certainly is so," replied the sick man. "And in what part of the chamber do you now conceive the apparition to appear?" the physician inquired. "Immediately at the foot of my bed. When the curtains are left a little open," answered the invalid, "the skeleton, to my thinking, is placed between them, and fills the vacant space." "You say you are sensible of the delusion," said his friend; "have you firmness to convince yourself of the truth of this? Can you take courage enough to rise and place yourself in the spot so seeming to be occupied, and convince yourself of the illusion?" The poor man sighed, and shook his head negatively. "Well," said the doctor, "we will try the experiment otherwise." Accordingly, he rose from his chair by the bedside, and placing himself between the two half-drawn curtains at the foot of the bed, indicated as the place occupied by the apparition, asked if the spectre was still visible? "Not entirely so," replied the patient, "because your person is betwixt him and me; but I observe his skull peering above your shoulder." It is alleged the man of science started on the instant, despite philosophy, on receiving an answer ascertaining, with such minuteness, that the ideal spectre was close to his own person. He resorted to other means of investigation and cure, but with equally indifferent success. The patient sunk into deeper and deeper dejection, and died in the same distress of mind in which he had spent the latter months of his life; and his case remains a melancholy instance of the power of imagination to kill the body, even when its fantastic terrors cannot overcome the intellect, of the unfortunate persons who suffer under them. The patient, in the present case, sunk under his malady; and the circumstances of his singular disorder remaining concealed, he did not, by his death and last illness, lose any of his well-merited reputation for prudence and sagacity which had attended him during the whole course of his life. Having added these two remarkable instances to the general train of similar facts quoted by Ferriar, Hibbert, and other writers who have more recently considered the subject, there can, we think, be little doubt of the proposition, that the external organs may, from various causes, become so much deranged as to make false representations to the mind; and that, in such cases, men, in the literal sense, really _see_ the empty and false forms and _hear_ the ideal sounds which, in a more primitive state of society, are naturally enough referred to the action of demons or disembodied spirits. In such unhappy cases the patient is intellectually in the condition of a general whose spies have been bribed by the enemy, and who must engage himself in the difficult and delicate task of examining and correcting, by his own powers of argument, the probability of the reports which are too inconsistent to be trusted to. But there is a corollary to this proposition, which is worthy of notice. The same species of organic derangement which, as a continued habit of his deranged vision, presented the subject of our last tale with the successive apparitions of his cat, his gentleman-usher, and the fatal skeleton, may occupy, for a brief or almost momentary space, the vision of men who are otherwise perfectly clear-sighted. Transitory deceptions are thus presented to the organs which, when they occur to men of strength of mind and of education, give way to scrutiny, and their character being once investigated, the true takes the place of the unreal representation. But in ignorant times those instances in which any object is misrepresented, whether through the action of the senses, or of the imagination, or the combined influence of both, for however short a space of time, may be admitted as direct evidence of a supernatural apparition; a proof the more difficult to be disputed if the phantom has been personally witnessed by a man of sense and estimation, who, perhaps satisfied in the general as to the actual existence of apparitions, has not taken time or trouble to correct his first impressions. This species of deception is so frequent that one of the greatest poets of the present time answered a lady who asked him if he believed in ghosts:--"No, madam; I have seen too many myself." I may mention one or two instances of the kind, to which no doubt can be attached. The first shall be the apparition of Maupertuis to a brother professor in the Royal Society of Berlin. This extraordinary circumstance appeared in the Transactions of the Society, but is thus stated by M. Thiebault in his "Recollections of Frederick the Great and the Court of Berlin." It is necessary to premise that M. Gleditsch, to whom the circumstance happened, was a botanist of eminence, holding the professorship of natural philosophy at Berlin, and respected as a man of an habitually serious, simple, and tranquil character. A short time after the death of Maupertuis,[2] M. Gleditsch being obliged to traverse the hall in which the Academy held its sittings, having some arrangements to make in the cabinet of natural history, which was under his charge, and being willing to complete them on the Thursday before the meeting, he perceived, on entering the hall, the apparition of M. de Maupertuis, upright and stationary, in the first angle on his left hand, having his eyes fixed on him. This was about three o'clock, afternoon. The professor of natural philosophy was too well acquainted with physical science to suppose that his late president, who had died at Bâle, in the family of Messrs. Bernoullie, could have found his way back to Berlin in person. He regarded the apparition in no other light than as a phantom produced by some derangement of his own proper organs. M. Gleditsch went to his own business, without stopping longer than to ascertain exactly the appearance of that object. But he related the vision to his brethren, and assured them that it was as defined and perfect as the actual person of Maupertuis could have presented. When it is recollected that Maupertuis died at a distance from Berlin, once the scene of his triumphs--overwhelmed by the petulant ridicule of Voltaire, and out of favour with Frederick, with whom to be ridiculous was to be worthless--we can hardly wonder at the imagination even of a man of physical science calling up his Eidolon in the hall of his former greatness. [Footnote 2: Long the president of the Berlin Academy, and much favoured by Frederick II., till he was overwhelmed by the ridicule of Voltaire. He retired, in a species of disgrace, to his native country of Switzerland, and died there shortly afterwards.] The sober-minded professor did not, however, push his investigation to the point to which it was carried by a gallant soldier, from whose mouth a particular friend of the author received the following circumstances of a similar story. Captain C---- was a native of Britain, but bred in the Irish Brigade. He was a man of the most dauntless courage, which he displayed in some uncommonly desperate adventures during the first years of the French Revolution, being repeatedly employed by the royal family in very dangerous commissions. After the King's death he came over to England, and it was then the following circumstance took place. Captain C---- was a Catholic, and, in his hour of adversity at least, sincerely attached to the duties of his religion. His confessor was a clergyman who was residing as chaplain to a man of rank in the west of England, about four miles from the place where Captain C---- lived. On riding over one morning to see this gentleman, his penitent had the misfortune to find him very ill from a dangerous complaint. He retired in great distress and apprehension of his friend's life, and the feeling brought back upon him many other painful and disagreeable recollections. These occupied him till the hour of retiring to bed, when, to his great astonishment, he saw in the room the figure of the absent confessor. He addressed it, but received no answer--the eyes alone were impressed by the appearance. Determined to push the matter to the end, Captain C---- advanced on the phantom, which appeared to retreat gradually before him. In this manner he followed it round the bed, when it seemed to sink down on an elbow-chair, and remain there in a sitting posture. To ascertain positively the nature of the apparition, the soldier himself sate down on the same chair, ascertaining thus, beyond question, that the whole was illusion; yet he owned that, had his friend died about the same time, he would not well have known what name to give to his vision. But as the confessor recovered, and, in Dr. Johnson's phrase, "nothing came of it," the incident was only remarkable as showing that men of the strongest nerves are not exempted from such delusions. Another illusion of the same nature we have the best reason for vouching as a fact, though, for certain reasons, we do not give the names of the parties. Not long after the death of a late illustrious poet, who had filled, while living, a great station in the eye of the public, a literary friend, to whom the deceased had been well known, was engaged, during the darkening twilight of an autumn evening, in perusing one of the publications which professed to detail the habits and opinions of the distinguished individual who was now no more. As the reader had enjoyed the intimacy of the deceased to a considerable degree, he was deeply interested in the publication, which contained some particulars relating to himself and other friends. A visitor was sitting in the apartment, who was also engaged in reading. Their sitting-room opened into an entrance-hall, rather fantastically fitted up with articles of armour, skins of wild animals, and the like. It was when laying down his book, and passing into this hall, through which the moon was beginning to shine, that the individual of whom I speak saw, right before him, and in a standing posture, the exact representation of his departed friend, whose recollection had been so strongly brought to his imagination. He stopped for a single moment, so as to notice the wonderful accuracy with which fancy had impressed upon the bodily eye the peculiarities of dress and posture of the illustrious poet. Sensible, however, of the delusion, he felt no sentiment save that of wonder at the extraordinary accuracy of the resemblance, and stepped onwards towards the figure, which resolved itself, as he approached, into the various materials of which it was composed. These were merely a screen, occupied by great-coats, shawls, plaids, and such other articles as usually are found in a country entrance-hall. The spectator returned to the spot from which he had seen the illusion, and endeavoured, with all his power, to recall the image which had been so singularly vivid. But this was beyond his capacity; and the person who had witnessed the apparition, or, more properly, whose excited state had been the means of raising it, had only to return into the apartment, and tell his young friend under what a striking hallucination he had for a moment laboured. There is every reason to believe that instances of this kind are frequent among persons of a certain temperament, and when such occur in an early period of society, they are almost certain to be considered as real supernatural appearances. They differ from those of Nicolai, and others formerly noticed, as being of short duration, and constituting no habitual or constitutional derangement of the system. The apparition of Maupertuis to Monsieur Gleditsch, that of the Catholic clergyman to Captain C----, that of a late poet to his friend, are of the latter character. They bear to the former the analogy, as we may say, which a sudden and temporary fever-fit has to a serious feverish illness. But, even for this very reason, it is more difficult to bring such momentary impressions back to their real sphere of optical illusions, since they accord much better with our idea of glimpses of the future world than those in which the vision is continued or repeated for hours, days, and months, affording opportunities of discovering, from other circumstances, that the symptom originates in deranged health. Before concluding these observations upon the deceptions of the senses, we must remark that the eye is the organ most essential to the purpose of realizing to our mind the appearance of external objects, and that when the visual organ becomes depraved for a greater or less time, and to a farther or more limited extent, its misrepresentation of the objects of sight is peculiarly apt to terminate in such hallucinations as those we have been detailing. Yet the other senses or organs, in their turn, and to the extent of their power, are as ready, in their various departments, as the sight itself, to retain false or doubtful impressions, which mislead, instead of informing, the party to whom they are addressed. Thus, in regard to the ear, the next organ in importance to the eye, we are repeatedly deceived by such sounds as are imperfectly gathered up and erroneously apprehended. From the false impressions received from this organ also arise consequences similar to those derived from erroneous reports made by the organs of sight. A whole class of superstitious observances arise, and are grounded upon inaccurate and imperfect hearing. To the excited and imperfect state of the ear we owe the existence of what Milton sublimely calls-- The airy tongues that syllable men's names, On shores, in desert sands, and wildernesses. These also appear such natural causes of alarm, that we do not sympathize more readily with Robinson Crusoe's apprehensions when he witnesses the print of the savage's foot in the sand, than in those which arise from his being waked from sleep by some one calling his name in the solitary island, where there existed no man but the shipwrecked mariner himself. Amidst the train of superstitions deduced from the imperfections of the ear, we may quote that visionary summons which the natives of the Hebrides acknowledged as one sure sign of approaching fate. The voice of some absent, or probably some deceased, relative was, in such cases, heard as repeating the party's name. Sometimes the aerial summoner intimated his own death, and at others it was no uncommon circumstance that the person who fancied himself so called, died in consequence;--for the same reason that the negro pines to death who is laid under the ban of an Obi woman, or the Cambro-Briton, whose name is put into the famous cursing well, with the usual ceremonies, devoting him to the infernal gods, wastes away and dies, as one doomed to do so. It may be remarked also, that Dr. Johnson retained a deep impression that, while he was opening the door of his college chambers, he heard the voice of his mother, then at many miles' distance, call him by his name; and it appears he was rather disappointed that no event of consequence followed a summons sounding so decidedly supernatural. It is unnecessary to dwell on this sort of auricular deception, of which most men's recollection will supply instances. The following may he stated as one serving to show by what slender accidents the human ear may be imposed upon. The author was walking, about two years since, in a wild and solitary scene with a young friend, who laboured under the infirmity of a severe deafness, when he heard what he conceived to be the cry of a distant pack of hounds, sounding intermittedly. As the season was summer, this, on a moment's reflection, satisfied the hearer that it could not be the clamour of an actual chase, and yet his ears repeatedly brought back the supposed cry. He called upon his own dogs, of which two or three were with the walking party. They came in quietly, and obviously had no accession to the sounds which had caught the author's attention, so that he could not help saying to his companion, "I am doubly sorry for your infirmity at this moment, for I could otherwise have let you hear the cry of the Wild Huntsman." As the young gentleman used a hearing tube, he turned when spoken to, and, in doing so, the cause of the phenomenon became apparent. The supposed distant sound was in fact a nigh one, being the singing of the wind in the instrument which the young gentleman was obliged to use, but which, from various circumstances, had never occurred to his elder friend as likely to produce the sounds he had heard. It is scarce necessary to add, that the highly imaginative superstition of the Wild Huntsman in Germany seems to have had its origin in strong fancy, operating upon the auricular deceptions, respecting the numerous sounds likely to occur in the dark recesses of pathless forests. The same clew may be found to the kindred Scottish belief, so finely embodied by the nameless author of "Albania:"-- "There, since of old the haughty Thanes of Ross Were wont, with clans and ready vassals thronged, To wake the bounding stag, or guilty wolf; There oft is heard at midnight or at noon, Beginning faint, but rising still more loud, And louder, voice of hunters, and of hounds, And horns hoarse-winded, blowing far and keen. Forthwith the hubbub multiplies, the air Labours with louder shouts and rifer din Of close pursuit, the broken cry of deer Mangled by throttling dogs, the shouts of men, And hoofs, thick-beating on the hollow hill: Sudden the grazing heifer in the vale Starts at the tumult, and the herdsman's ears Tingle with inward dread. Aghast he eyes The upland ridge, and every mountain round, But not one trace of living wight discerns, Nor knows, o'erawed and trembling as he stands, To what or whom he owes his idle fear-- To ghost, to witch, to fairy, or to fiend, But wonders, and no end of wondering finds."[3] It must also be remembered, that to the auricular deceptions practised by the means of ventriloquism or otherwise, may be traced many of the most successful impostures which credulity has received as supernatural communications. [Footnote 3: The poem of "Albania" is, in its original folio edition, so extremely scarce that I have only seen a copy belonging to the amiable and ingenious Dr. Beattie, besides the one which I myself possess, printed in the earlier part of last century. It was reprinted by my late friend Dr. Leyden in a small volume entitled "Scottish Descriptive Poems." "Albania" contains the above, and many other poetical passages of the highest merit.] The sense of touch seems less liable to perversion than either that of sight or smell, nor are there many cases in which it can become accessary to such false intelligence as the eye and ear, collecting their objects from a greater distance and by less accurate enquiry, are but too ready to convey. Yet there is one circumstance in which the sense of touch as well as others is very apt to betray its possessor into inaccuracy, in respect to the circumstances which it impresses on its owner. The case occurs during sleep, when the dreamer touches with his hand some other part of his own person. He is clearly, in this case, both the actor and patient, both the proprietor of the member touching, and of that which is touched; while, to increase the complication, the hand is both toucher of the limb on which it rests, and receives an impression of touch from it; and the same is the case with the limb, which at one and the same time receives an impression from the hand, and conveys to the mind a report respecting the size, substance, and the like, of the member touching. Now, as during sleep the patient is unconscious that both limbs are his own identical property, his mind is apt to be much disturbed by the complication of sensations arising from two parts of his person being at once acted upon, and from their reciprocal action; and false impressions are thus received, which, accurately enquired into, would afford a clew to many puzzling phenomena in the theory of dreams. This peculiarity of the organ of touch, as also that it is confined to no particular organ, but is diffused over the whole person of the man, is noticed by Lucretius:-- "Ut si forte manu, quam vis jam corporis, ipse Tute tibi partem ferias, reque experiare." A remarkable instance of such an illusion was told me by a late nobleman. He had fallen asleep, with some uneasy feelings arising from indigestion. They operated in their usual course of visionary terrors. At length they were all summed up in the apprehension that the phantom of a dead man held the sleeper by the wrist, and endeavoured to drag him out of bed. He awaked in horror, and still felt the cold dead grasp of a corpse's hand on his right wrist. It was a minute before he discovered that his own left hand was in a state of numbness, and with it he had accidentally encircled his right arm. The taste and the smell, like the touch, convey more direct intelligence than the eye and the ear, and are less likely than those senses to aid in misleading the imagination. We have seen the palate, in the case of the porridge-fed lunatic, enter its protest against the acquiescence of eyes, ears, and touch, in the gay visions which gilded the patient's confinement. The palate, however, is subject to imposition as well as the other senses. The best and most acute _bon vivant_ loses his power of discriminating betwixt different kinds of wine, if he is prevented from assisting his palate by the aid of his eyes,--that is, if the glasses of each are administered indiscriminately while he is blindfolded. Nay, we are authorized to believe that individuals have died in consequence of having supposed themselves to have taken poison, when, in reality, the draught they had swallowed as such was of an innoxious or restorative quality. The delusions of the stomach can seldom bear upon our present subject, and are not otherwise connected with supernatural appearances, than as a good dinner and its accompaniments are essential in fitting out a daring Tam of Shanter, who is fittest to encounter them when the poet's observation is not unlikely to apply-- "Inspiring bauld John Barleycorn, What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny we fear nae evil, Wi' usquebae we'll face the devil. The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, Fair play, he caredna deils a bodle!" Neither has the sense of smell, in its ordinary state, much connexion with our present subject. Mr. Aubrey tells us, indeed, of an apparition which disappeared with a curious perfume as well as a most melodious twang; and popular belief ascribes to the presence of infernal spirits a strong relish of the sulphureous element of which they are inhabitants. Such accompaniments, therefore, are usually united with other materials for imposture. If, as a general opinion assures us, which is not positively discountenanced by Dr. Hibbert, by the inhalation of certain gases or poisonous herbs, necromancers can dispose a person to believe he sees phantoms, it is likely that the nostrils are made to inhale such suffumigation as well as the mouth.[4] [Footnote 4: Most ancient authors, who pretend to treat of the wonders of natural magic, give receipts for calling up phantoms. The lighting lamps fed by peculiar kinds of medicated oil, and the use of suffumigations of strong and deleterious herbs, are the means recommended. From these authorities, perhaps, a professor of legerdemain assured Dr. Alderson of Hull, that he could compose a preparation of antimony, sulphur, and other drugs, which, when burnt in a confined room, would have the effect of causing the patient to suppose he saw phantoms.--See "Hibbert on Apparitions," p. 120.] I have now arrived, by a devious path, at the conclusion of this letter, the object of which is to show from what attributes of our nature, whether mental or corporeal, arises that predisposition to believe in supernatural occurrences. It is, I think, conclusive that mankind, from a very early period, have their minds prepared for such events by the consciousness of the existence of a spiritual world, inferring in the general proposition the undeniable truth that each man, from the monarch to the beggar, who has once acted his part on the stage, continues to exist, and may again, even in a disembodied state, if such is the pleasure of Heaven, for aught that we know to the contrary, be permitted or ordained to mingle amongst those who yet remain in the body. The abstract possibility of apparitions must be admitted by every one who believes in a Deity, and His superintending omnipotence. But imagination is apt to intrude its explanations and inferences founded on inadequate evidence. Sometimes our violent and inordinate passions, originating in sorrow for our friends, remorse for our crimes, our eagerness of patriotism, or our deep sense of devotion--these or other violent excitements of a moral character, in the visions of night, or the rapt ecstasy of the day, persuade us that we witness, with our eyes and ears, an actual instance of that supernatural communication, the possibility of which cannot be denied. At other times the corporeal organs impose upon the mind, while the eye and the ear, diseased, deranged, or misled, convey false impressions to the patient. Very often both the mental delusion and the physical deception exist at the same time, and men's belief of the phenomena presented to them, however erroneously, by the senses, is the firmer and more readily granted, that the physical impression corresponded with the mental excitement. So many causes acting thus upon each other in various degrees, or sometimes separately, it must happen early in the infancy of every society that there should occur many apparently well-authenticated instances of supernatural intercourse, satisfactory enough to authenticate peculiar examples of the general proposition which is impressed upon us by belief of the immortality of the soul. These examples of undeniable apparitions (for they are apprehended to be incontrovertible), fall like the seed of the husbandman into fertile and prepared soil, and are usually followed by a plentiful crop of superstitious figments, which derive their sources from circumstances and enactments in sacred and profane history, hastily adopted, and perverted from their genuine reading. This shall be the subject of my next letter. LETTER II. Consequences of the Fall on the Communication between Man and the Spiritual World--Effects of the Flood--Wizards of Pharaoh--Text in Exodus against Witches--The word _Witch_ is by some said to mean merely Poisoner--Or if in the Holy Text it also means a Divineress, she must, at any rate, have been a Character very different to be identified with it--The original, _Chasaph_, said to mean a person who dealt in Poisons, often a Traffic of those who dealt with familiar Spirits--But different from the European Witch of the Middle Ages--Thus a Witch is not accessary to the Temptation of Job--The Witch of the Hebrews probably did not rank higher than a Divining Woman--Yet it was a Crime deserving the Doom of Death, since it inferred the disowning of Jehovah's Supremacy--Other Texts of Scripture, in like manner, refer to something corresponding more with a Fortune-teller or Divining Woman than what is now called a Witch--Example of the Witch of Endor--Account of her Meeting with Saul--Supposed by some a mere Impostor--By others, a Sorceress powerful enough to raise the Spirit of the Prophet by her own Art--Difficulties attending both Positions--A middle Course adopted, supposing that, as in the Case of Balak, the Almighty had, by Exertion of His Will, substituted Samuel, or a good Spirit in his Character, for the Deception which the Witch intended to produce--Resumption of the Argument, showing that the Witch of Endor signified something very different from the modern Ideas of Witchcraft--The Witches mentioned in the New Testament are not less different from modern Ideas than those of the Books of Moses, nor do they appear to have possessed the Power ascribed to Magicians--Articles of Faith which we may gather from Scripture on this point--That there might be certain Powers permitted by the Almighty to Inferior, and even Evil Spirits, is possible; and in some sense the Gods of the Heathens might be accounted Demons--More frequently, and in a general sense, they were but logs of wood, without sense or power of any kind, and their worship founded on imposture--Opinion that the Oracles were silenced at the Nativity adopted by Milton--Cases of Demoniacs--The Incarnate Possessions probably ceased at the same time as the intervention of Miracles--Opinion of the Catholics--Result, that witchcraft, as the Word is interpreted in the Middle Ages, neither occurs under the Mosaic or Gospel Dispensation--It arose in the Ignorant Period, when the Christians considered the Gods of the Mahommedan or Heathen Nations as Fiends, and their Priests as Conjurers or Wizards--Instance as to the Saracens, and among the Northern Europeans yet unconverted--The Gods of Mexico and Peru explained on the same system--Also the Powahs of North America--Opinion of Mather--Gibb, a supposed Warlock, persecuted by the other Dissenters--Conclusion. What degree of communication might have existed between the human race and the inhabitants of the other world had our first parents kept the commands of the Creator, can only be subject of unavailing speculation. We do not, perhaps, presume too much when we suppose, with Milton, that one necessary consequence of eating the "fruit of that forbidden tree" was removing to a wider distance from celestial essences the beings who, although originally but a little lower than the angels, had, by their own crime, forfeited the gift of immortality, and degraded themselves into an inferior rank of creation. Some communication between the spiritual world, by the union of those termed in Scripture "sons of God" and the daughters of Adam, still continued after the Fall, though their inter-alliance was not approved of by the Ruler of mankind. We are given to understand--darkly, indeed, but with as much certainty as we can be entitled to require--that the mixture between the two species of created beings was sinful on the part of both, and displeasing to the Almighty. It is probable, also, that the extreme longevity of the antediluvian mortals prevented their feeling sufficiently that they had brought themselves under the banner of Azrael, the angel of death, and removed to too great a distance the period between their crime and its punishment. The date of the avenging Flood gave birth to a race whose life was gradually shortened, and who, being admitted to slighter and rarer intimacy with beings who possessed a higher rank in creation, assumed, as of course, a lower position in the scale. Accordingly, after this period we hear no more of those unnatural alliances which preceded the Flood, and are given to understand that mankind, dispersing into different parts of the world, separated from each other, and began, in various places, and under separate auspices, to pursue the work of replenishing the world, which had been imposed upon them as an end of their creation. In the meantime, while the Deity was pleased to continue his manifestations to those who were destined to be the fathers of his elect people, we are made to understand that wicked men--it may be by the assistance of fallen angels--were enabled to assert rank with, and attempt to match, the prophets of the God of Israel. The matter must remain uncertain whether it was by sorcery or legerdemain that the wizards of Pharaoh, King of Egypt, contended with Moses, in the face of the prince and people, changed their rods into serpents, and imitated several of the plagues denounced against the devoted kingdom. Those powers of the Magi, however, whether obtained by supernatural communications, or arising from knowledge of legerdemain and its kindred accomplishments, were openly exhibited; and who can doubt that--though we may be left in some darkness both respecting the extent of their skill and the source from which it was drawn--we are told all which it can be important for us to know? We arrive here at the period when the Almighty chose to take upon himself directly to legislate for his chosen people, without having obtained any accurate knowledge whether the crime of witchcraft, or the intercourse between the spiritual world and embodied beings, for evil purposes, either existed after the Flood, or was visited with any open marks of Divine displeasure. But in the law of Moses, dictated by the Divinity himself, was announced a text, which, as interpreted literally, having been inserted into the criminal code of all Christian nations, has occasioned much cruelty and bloodshed, either from its tenor being misunderstood, or that, being exclusively calculated for the Israelites, it made part of the judicial Mosaic dispensation, and was abrogated, like the greater part of that law, by the more benign and clement dispensation of the Gospel. The text alluded to is that verse of the twenty-second chapter of Exodus bearing, "men shall not suffer a witch to live." Many learned men have affirmed that in this remarkable passage the Hebrew word CHASAPH means nothing more than poisoner, although, like the word _veneficus_, by which it is rendered in the Latin version of the Septuagint, other learned men contend that it hath the meaning of a witch also, and may be understood as denoting a person who pretended to hurt his or her neighbours in life, limb, or goods, either by noxious potions, by charms, or similar mystical means. In this particular the witches of Scripture had probably some resemblance to those of ancient Europe, who, although their skill and power might be safely despised, as long as they confined themselves to their charms and spells, were very apt to eke out their capacity of mischief by the use of actual poison, so that the epithet of sorceress and poisoner were almost synonymous. This is known to have been the case in many of those darker iniquities which bear as their characteristic something connected with hidden and prohibited arts. Such was the statement in the indictment of those concerned in the famous murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, when the arts of Forman and other sorcerers having been found insufficient to touch the victim's life, practice by poison was at length successfully resorted to; and numerous similar instances might be quoted. But supposing that the Hebrew witch proceeded only by charms, invocations, or such means as might be innoxious, save for the assistance of demons or familiars, the connexion between the conjurer and the demon must have been of a very different character under the law of Moses, from that which was conceived in latter days to constitute witchcraft. There was no contract of subjection to a diabolic power, no infernal stamp or sign of such a fatal league, no revellings of Satan and his hags, and no infliction of disease or misfortune upon good men. At least there is not a word in Scripture authorizing us to believe that such a system existed. On the contrary, we are told (how far literally, how far metaphorically, it is not for us to determine) that, when the Enemy of mankind desired to probe the virtue of Job to the bottom, he applied for permission to the Supreme Governor of the world, who granted him liberty to try his faithful servant with a storm of disasters, for the more brilliant exhibition of the faith which he reposed in his Maker. In all this, had the scene occurred after the manner of the like events in latter days, witchcraft, sorceries, and charms would have been introduced, and the Devil, instead of his own permitted agency, would have employed his servant the witch as the necessary instrument of the Man of Uzz's afflictions. In like manner, Satan desired to have Peter, that he might sift him like wheat. But neither is there here the agency of any sorcerer or witch. Luke xxii. 31. Supposing the powers of the witch to be limited, in the time of Moses, to enquiries at some pretended deity or real evil spirit concerning future events, in what respect, may it be said, did such a crime deserve the severe punishment of death? To answer this question, we must reflect that the object of the Mosaic dispensation being to preserve the knowledge of the True Deity within the breasts of a selected and separated people, the God of Jacob necessarily showed himself a jealous God to all who, straying from the path of direct worship of Jehovah, had recourse to other deities, whether idols or evil spirits, the gods of the neighbouring heathen. The swerving from their allegiance to the true Divinity, to the extent of praying to senseless stocks and stones which could return them no answer, was, by the Jewish law, an act of rebellion to their own Lord God, and as such most fit to be punished capitally. Thus the prophets of Baal were deservedly put to death, not on account of any success which they might obtain by their intercessions and invocations (which, though enhanced with all their vehemence, to the extent of cutting and wounding themselves, proved so utterly unavailing as to incur the ridicule of the prophet), but because they were guilty of apostasy from the real Deity, while they worshipped, and encouraged others to worship, the false divinity Baal. The Hebrew witch, therefore, or she who communicated, or attempted to communicate, with an evil spirit, was justly punished with death, though her communication with the spiritual world might either not exist at all, or be of a nature much less intimate than has been ascribed to the witches of later days; nor does the existence of this law, against the witches of the Old Testament sanction, in any respect, the severity of similar enactments subsequent to the Christian revelation, against a different class of persons, accused of a very different species of crime. In another passage, the practices of those persons termed witches in the Holy Scriptures are again alluded to; and again it is made manifest that the sorcery or witchcraft of the Old Testament resolves itself into a trafficking with idols, and asking counsel of false deities; in other words, into idolatry, which, notwithstanding repeated prohibitions, examples, and judgments, was still the prevailing crime of the Israelites. The passage alluded to is in Deuteronomy xviii. 10, ii--"There shall not be found among you anyone that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer." Similar denunciations occur in the nineteenth and twentieth chapters of Leviticus. In like manner, it is a charge against Manasses (2 Chronicles xxxviii.) that he caused his children to pass through the fire, observed times, used enchantments and witchcraft, and dealt with familiar spirits and with wizards. These passages seem to concur with the former, in classing witchcraft among other desertions of the prophets of the Deity, in order to obtain responses by the superstitious practices of the pagan nations around them. To understand the texts otherwise seems to confound the modern system of witchcraft, with all its unnatural and improbable outrages on common sense, with the crime of the person who, in classical days, consulted the oracle of Apollo--a capital offence in a Jew, but surely a venial sin in an ignorant and deluded pagan. To illustrate the nature of the Hebrew witch and her prohibited criminal traffic, those who have written on this subject have naturally dwelt upon the interview between Saul and the Witch of Endor, the only detailed and particular account of such a transaction which is to be found in the Bible; a fact, by the way, which proves that the crime of witchcraft (capitally punished as it was when discovered) was not frequent among the chosen people, who enjoyed such peculiar manifestations of the Almighty's presence. The Scriptures seem only to have conveyed to us the general fact (being what is chiefly edifying) of the interview between the witch and the King of Israel. They inform us that Saul, disheartened and discouraged by the general defection of his subjects, and the consciousness of his own unworthy and ungrateful disobedience, despairing of obtaining an answer from the offended Deity, who had previously communicated with him through his prophets, at length resolved, in his desperation, to go to a divining woman, by which course he involved himself in the crime of the person whom he thus consulted, against whom the law denounced death--a sentence which had been often executed by Saul himself on similar offenders. Scripture proceeds to give us the general information that the king directed the witch to call up the Spirit of Samuel, and that the female exclaimed that gods had arisen out of the earth--that Saul, more particularly requiring a description of the apparition (whom, consequently, he did not himself see), she described it as the figure of an old man with a mantle. In this figure the king acknowledges the resemblance of Samuel, and sinking on his face, hears from the apparition, speaking in the character of the prophet, the melancholy prediction of his own defeat and death. In this description, though all is told which is necessary to convey to us an awful moral lesson, yet we are left ignorant of the minutiæ attending the apparition, which perhaps we ought to accept as a sure sign that there was no utility in our being made acquainted with them. It is impossible, for instance, to know with certainty whether Saul was present when the woman used her conjuration, or whether he himself personally ever saw the appearance which the Pythoness described to him. It is left still more doubtful whether anything supernatural was actually evoked, or whether the Pythoness and her assistant meant to practise a mere deception, taking their chance to prophesy the defeat and death of the broken-spirited king as an event which the circumstances in which he was placed rendered highly probable, since he was surrounded by a superior army of Philistines, and his character as a soldier rendered it likely that he would not survive a defeat which must involve the loss of his kingdom. On the other hand, admitting that the apparition had really a supernatural character, it remains equally uncertain what was its nature or by what power it was compelled to an appearance, unpleasing, as it intimated, since the supposed spirit of Samuel asks wherefore he was disquieted in the grave. Was the power of the witch over the invisible world so great that, like the Erictho of the heathen poet, she could disturb the sleep of the just, and especially that of a prophet so important as Samuel; and are we to suppose that he, upon whom the Spirit of the Lord was wont to descend, even while he was clothed with frail mortality, should be subject to be disquieted in his grave at the voice of a vile witch, and the command of an apostate prince? Did the true Deity refuse Saul the response of his prophets, and could a witch compel the actual spirit of Samuel to make answer notwithstanding? Embarrassed by such difficulties, another course of explanation has been resorted to, which, freed from some of the objections which attend the two extreme suppositions, is yet liable to others. It has been supposed that something took place upon this remarkable occasion similar to that which disturbed the preconcerted purpose of the prophet Balaam, and compelled him to exchange his premeditated curses for blessings. According to this hypothesis, the divining woman of Endor was preparing to practise upon Saul those tricks of legerdemain or jugglery by which she imposed upon meaner clients who resorted to her oracle. Or we may conceive that in those days, when the laws of Nature were frequently suspended by manifestations of the Divine Power, some degree of juggling might be permitted between mortals and the spirits of lesser note; in which case we must suppose that the woman really expected or hoped to call up some supernatural appearance. But in either case, this second solution of the story supposes that the will of the Almighty substituted, on that memorable occasion, for the phantasmagoria intended by the witch, the spirit of Samuel in his earthly resemblance--or, if the reader may think this more likely, some good being, the messenger of the Divine pleasure, in the likeness of the departed prophet--and, to the surprise of the Pythoness herself, exchanged the juggling farce: of sheer deceit or petty sorcery which she had intended to produce, for a deep tragedy, capable of appalling the heart of the hardened tyrant, and furnishing an awful lesson to future times. This exposition has the advantage of explaining the surprise expressed by the witch at the unexpected consequences of her own invocation, while it removes the objection of supposing the spirit of Samuel subject to her influence. It does not apply so well to the complaint of Samuel that he was _disquieted_, since neither the prophet, nor any good angel wearing his likeness, could be supposed to complain of an apparition which took place in obedience to the direct command of the Deity. If, however, the phrase is understood, not as a murmuring against the pleasure of Providence, but as a reproach to the prophet's former friend Saul, that his sins and discontents, which were the ultimate cause of Samuel's appearance, had withdrawn the prophet for a space from the enjoyment and repose of Heaven, to review this miserable spot of mortality, guilt, grief, and misfortune, the words may, according to that interpretation, wear no stronger sense of complaint than might become the spirit of a just man made perfect, or any benevolent angel by whom he might be represented. It may be observed that in Ecclesiasticus (xlvi. 19, 20), the opinion of Samuel's actual appearance is adopted, since it is said of this man of God, that _after death he prophesied, and showed the king his latter end_. Leaving the further discussion of this dark and difficult question to those whose studies have qualified them to give judgment on so obscure a subject, it so far appears clear that the Witch of Endor, was not a being such as those believed in by our ancestors, who could transform themselves and others into the appearance of the lower animals, raise and allay tempests, frequent the company and join the revels of evil spirits, and, by their counsel and assistance, destroy human lives, and waste the fruits of the earth, or perform feats of such magnitude as to alter the face of Nature. The Witch of Endor was a mere fortune-teller, to whom, in despair of all aid or answer from the Almighty, the unfortunate King of Israel had recourse in his despair, and by whom, in some way or other, he obtained the awful certainty of his own defeat and death. She was liable, indeed, deservedly to the punishment of death for intruding herself upon the task of the real prophets, by whom the will of God was at that time regularly made known. But her existence and her crimes can go no length to prove the possibility that another class of witches, no otherwise resembling her than as called by the same name, either existed at a more recent period, or were liable to the same capital punishment, for a very different and much more doubtful class of offences, which, however odious, are nevertheless to be proved possible before they can be received as a criminal charge. Whatever may be thought of other occasional expressions in the Old Testament, it cannot be said that, in any part of that sacred volume, a text occurs indicating the existence of a system of witchcraft, under the Jewish dispensation, in any respect similar to that against which the law-books of so many European nations have, till very lately, denounced punishment; far less under the Christian dispensation--a system under which the emancipation of the human race from the Levitical law was happily and miraculously perfected. This latter crime is supposed to infer a compact implying reverence and adoration on the part of the witch who comes under the fatal bond, and patronage, support, and assistance on the part of the diabolical patron. Indeed, in the four Gospels, the word, under any sense, does not occur; although, had the possibility of so enormous a sin been admitted, it was not likely to escape the warning censure of the Divine Person who came to take away the sins of the world. Saint Paul, indeed, mentions the sin of witchcraft, in a cursory manner, as superior in guilt to that of ingratitude; and in the offences of the flesh it is ranked immediately after idolatry, which juxtaposition inclines us to believe that the witchcraft mentioned by the Apostle must have been analogous to that of the Old Testament, and equivalent to resorting to the assistance of soothsayers, or similar forbidden arts, to acquire knowledge of toturity. Sorcerers are also joined with other criminals, in the Book of Revelations, as excluded from the city of God And with these occasional notices, which indicate that there was a transgression so called, but leave us ignorant of us exact nature, the writers upon witchcraft attempt to wring out of the New Testament proofs of a crime in itself so disgustingly improbable. Neither do the exploits of Elymas, called the Sorcerer, or Simon, called Magus or the Magician, entitle them to rank above the class of impostors who assumed a character to which they had no real title, and put their own mystical and ridiculous pretensions to supernatural power in competition with those who had been conferred on purpose to diffuse the gospel, and facilitate its reception by the exhibition of genuine miracles. It is clear that, from his presumptuous and profane proposal to acquire, by purchase, a portion of those powers which were directly derived from inspiration, Simon Magus displayed a degree of profane and brutal ignorance inconsistent with his possessing even the intelligence of a skilful impostor; and it is plain that a leagued vassal of hell--should we pronounce him such--would have better known his own rank and condition, compared to that of the apostles, than to have made such a fruitless and unavailing proposal, by which he could only expose his own impudence and ignorance. With this observation we may conclude our brief remarks upon _witchcraft_, as the word occurs in the Scripture; and it now only remains to mention the nature of the _demonology_, which, as gathered from the sacred volumes, every Christian believer is bound to receive as a thing declared and proved to be true. And in the first place, no man can read the Bible, or call himself a Christian, without believing that, during the course of time comprehended by the Divine writers, the Deity, to confirm the faith of the Jews, and to overcome and confound the pride of the heathens, wrought in the land many great miracles, using either good spirits, the instruments of his pleasure, or fallen angels, the permitted agents of such evil as it was his will should be inflicted upon, or suffered by, the children of men. This proposition comprehends, of course, the acknowledgment of the truth of miracles during this early period, by which the ordinary laws of nature were occasionally suspended, and recognises the existence in the spiritual world of the two grand divisions of angels and devils, severally exercising their powers according to the commission or permission of the Ruler of the universe. Secondly, wise men have thought and argued that the idols of the heathen were actually fiends, or, rather, that these enemies of mankind had power to assume the shape and appearance of those feeble deities, and to give a certain degree of countenance to the faith of the worshippers, by working seeming miracles, and returning, by their priests or their oracles, responses which "palter'd in a double sense" with the deluded persons who consulted them. Most of the fathers of the Christian Church have intimated such an opinion. This doctrine has the advantage of affording, to a certain extent, a confirmation of many miracles related in pagan or classical history, which are thus ascribed to the agency of evil spirits. It corresponds also with the texts of Scripture which declare that the gods of the heathen are all devils and evil spirits; and the idols of Egypt are classed, as in Isaiah, chap. xix. ver. 2, with charmers, those who have familiar spirits, and with wizards. But whatever license it may be supposed was permitted to the evil spirits of that period--and although, undoubtedly, men owned the sway of deities who were, in fact, but personifications of certain evil passions of humanity, as, for example, in their sacrifices to Venus, to Bacchus, to Mars, &c., and therefore might be said, in one sense, to worship evil spirits--we cannot, in reason, suppose that every one, or the thousandth part of the innumerable idols worshipped among the heathen, was endowed with supernatural power; it is clear that the greater number fell under the description applied to them in another passage of Scripture, in which the part of the tree burned in the fire for domestic purposes is treated as of the same power and estimation as that carved into an image, and preferred for Gentile homage. This striking passage, in which the impotence of the senseless block, and the brutish ignorance of the worshipper, whose object of adoration is the work of his own hands, occurs in the 44th chapter of the prophecies of Isaiah, verse 10 _et seq_. The precise words of the text, as well as common sense, forbid us to believe that the images so constructed by common artisans became the habitation or resting-place of demons, or possessed any manifestation of strength or power, whether through demoniacal influence or otherwise. The whole system of doubt, delusion, and trick exhibited by the oracles, savours of the mean juggling of impostors, rather than the audacious intervention of demons. Whatever degree of power the false gods of heathendom, or devils in their name, might be permitted occasionally to exert, was unquestionably under the general restraint and limitation of providence; and though, on the one hand, we cannot deny the possibility of such permission being granted in cases unknown to us, it is certain, on the other, that the Scriptures mention no one specific instance of such influence expressly recommended to our belief. Thirdly, as the backsliders among the Jews repeatedly fell off to the worship of the idols of the neighbouring heathens, so they also resorted to the use of charms and enchantments, founded on a superstitious perversion of their own Levitical ritual, in which they endeavoured by sortilege, by Teraphim, by observation of augury, or the flight of birds, which they called _Nahas_, by the means of Urim and Thummim, to find as it were a byroad to the secrets of futurity. But for the same reason that withholds us from delivering any opinion upon the degree to which the devil and his angels might be allowed to countenance the impositions of the heathen priesthood, it is impossible for us conclusively to pronounce what effect might be permitted by supreme Providence to the ministry of such evil spirits as presided over, and, so far as they had liberty, directed, these sinful enquiries among the Jews themselves. We are indeed assured from the sacred writings, that the promise of the Deity to his chosen people, if they conducted themselves agreeably to the law which he had given, was, that the communication with the invisible world would be enlarged, so that in the fulness of his time he would pour out his spirit upon all flesh, when their sons and daughters should prophesy, their old men see visions, and their young men dream dreams. Such were the promises delivered to the Israelites by Joel, Ezekiel, and other holy seers, of which St. Peter, in the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, hails the fulfilment in the mission of our Saviour. And on the other hand, it is no less evident that the Almighty, to punish the disobedience of the Jews, abandoned them to their own fallacious desires, and suffered them to be deceived by the lying oracles, to which, in flagrant violation of his commands, they had recourse. Of this the punishment arising from the Deity abandoning Ahab to his own devices, and suffering him to be deceived by a lying spirit, forms a striking instance. Fourthly, and on the other hand, abstaining with reverence from accounting ourselves judges of the actions of Omnipotence, we may safely conclude that it was not his pleasure to employ in the execution of his judgments the consequences of any such species of league or compact betwixt devils and deluded mortals, as that denounced in the laws of our own ancestors under the name of _witchcraft_. What has been translated by that word seems little more than the art of a medicator of poisons, combined with that of a Pythoness or false prophetess; a crime, however, of a capital nature, by the Levitical law, since, in the first capacity, it implied great enmity to mankind, and in the second, direct treason to the divine Legislator. The book of Tobit contains, indeed, a passage resembling more an incident in an Arabian tale or Gothic romance, than a part of inspired writing. In this, the fumes produced by broiling the liver of a certain fish are described as having power to drive away an evil genius who guards the nuptial chamber of an Assyrian princess, and who has strangled seven bridegrooms in succession, as they approached the nuptial couch. But the romantic and fabulous strain of this legend has induced the fathers of all Protestant churches to deny it a place amongst the writings sanctioned by divine origin, and we may therefore be excused from entering into discussion on such imperfect evidence. Lastly, in considering the incalculable change which took place upon the Advent of our Saviour and the announcement of his law, we may observe that, according to many wise and learned men, his mere appearance upon earth, without awaiting the fulfilment of his mission, operated as an act of banishment of such heathen deities as had hitherto been suffered to deliver oracles, and ape in some degree the attributes of the Deity. Milton has, in the "Paradise Lost," it may be upon conviction of its truth, embraced the theory which identifies the followers of Satan with the gods of the heathen; and, in a tone of poetry almost unequalled, even in his own splendid writings, he thus describes, in one of his earlier pieces, the departure of these pretended deities on the eve of the blessed Nativity:-- "The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving; Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving; No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priests from the prophetic cell. "The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale, Edged with poplar pale, The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn, The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. "In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; In urns and altars round, A drear and dying sound Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint; And the chill marble seems to sweat, While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat. "Peor and Baalim Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-battered god of Palestine; And mooned Ashtaroth, Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn; In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. "And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of darkest hue; In vain with cymbals ring, They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue; The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis, haste." The quotation is a long one, but it is scarcely possible to shorten what is so beautiful and interesting a description of the heathen deities, whether in the classic personifications of Greece, the horrible shapes worshipped by mere barbarians, or the hieroglyphical enormities of the Egyptian Mythology. The idea of identifying the pagan deities, especially the most distinguished of them, with the manifestation of demoniac power, and concluding that the descent of our Saviour struck them with silence, so nobly expressed in the poetry of Milton, is not certainly to be lightly rejected. It has been asserted, in simple prose, by authorities of no mean weight; nor does there appear anything inconsistent in the faith of those who, believing that, in the elder time, fiends and demons were permitted an enlarged degree of power in uttering predictions, may also give credit to the proposition, that at the Divine Advent that power was restrained, the oracles silenced, and those demons who had aped the Divinity of the place were driven from their abode on earth, honoured as it was by a guest so awful. It must be noticed, however, that this great event had not the same effect on that peculiar class of fiends who were permitted to vex mortals by the alienation of their minds, and the abuse of their persons, in the case of what is called Demoniacal possession. In what exact sense we should understand this word _possession_ it is impossible to discover; but we feel it impossible to doubt (notwithstanding learned authorities to the contrary) that it was a dreadful disorder, of a kind not merely natural; and may be pretty well assured that it was suffered to continue after the Incarnation, because the miracles effected by our Saviour and his apostles, in curing those tormented in this way, afforded the most direct proofs of his divine mission, even out of the very mouths of those ejected fiends, the most malignant enemies of a power to which they dared not refuse homage and obedience. And here is an additional proof that witchcraft, in its ordinary and popular sense, was unknown at that period; although cases of possession are repeatedly mentioned in the Gospels and Acts of the Apostles, yet in no one instance do the devils ejected mention a witch or sorcerer, or plead the commands of such a person, as the cause of occupying or tormenting the victim;--whereas, in a great proportion of those melancholy cases of witchcraft with which the records of later times abound, the stress of the evidence is rested on the declaration of the possessed, or the demon within him, that some old man or woman in the neighbourhood had compelled the fiend to be the instrument of evil. It must also be admitted that in another most remarkable respect, the power of the Enemy of mankind was rather enlarged than bridled or restrained, in consequence of the Saviour coming upon earth. It is indisputable that, in order that Jesus might have his share in every species of delusion and persecution which the fallen race of Adam is heir to, he personally suffered the temptation in the wilderness at the hand of Satan, whom, without resorting to his divine power, he drove, confuted, silenced, and shamed, from his presence. But it appears, that although Satan was allowed, upon this memorable occasion, to come on earth with great power, the permission was given expressly because his time was short. The indulgence which was then granted to him in a case so unique and peculiar soon passed over and was utterly restrained. It is evident that, after the lapse of the period during which it pleased the Almighty to establish His own Church by miraculous displays of power, it could not consist with his kindness and wisdom to leave the enemy in the possession of the privilege of deluding men by imaginary miracles calculated for the perversion of that faith which real miracles were no longer present to support. There would, we presume to say, be a shocking inconsistency in supposing that false and deceitful prophecies and portents should be freely circulated by any demoniacal influence, deceiving men's bodily organs, abusing their minds, and perverting their faith, while the true religion was left by its great Author devoid of every supernatural sign and token which, in the time of its Founder and His immediate disciples, attested and celebrated their inappreciable mission. Such a permission on the part of the Supreme Being would be (to speak under the deepest reverence) an abandonment of His chosen people, ransomed at such a price, to the snares of an enemy from whom the worst evils were to be apprehended. Nor would it consist with the remarkable promise in holy writ, that "God will not suffer His people to be tempted above what they are able to bear." I Cor. X. 13. The Fathers of the Faith are not strictly agreed at what period the miraculous power was withdrawn from the Church; but few Protestants are disposed to bring it down beneath the accession of Constantine, when the Christian religion was fully established in supremacy. The Roman Catholics, indeed, boldly affirm that the power of miraculous interference with the course of Nature is still in being; but the enlightened even of this faith, though they dare not deny a fundamental tenet of their church, will hardly assent to any particular case, without nearly the same evidence which might conquer the incredulity of their neighbours the Protestants. It is alike inconsistent with the common sense of either that fiends should be permitted to work marvels which are no longer exhibited on the part of Heaven, or in behalf of religion. It will be observed that we have not been anxious to decide upon the limits of probability on this question. It is not necessary for us to ascertain in what degree the power of Satan was at liberty to display itself during the Jewish dispensation, or down to what precise period in the history of the Christian Church cures of demoniacal possession or similar displays of miraculous power may have occurred. We have avoided controversy on that head, because it comprehends questions not more doubtful than unedifying. Little benefit could arise from attaining the exact knowledge of the manner in which the apostate Jews practised unlawful charms or auguries. After their conquest and dispersion they were remarked among the Romans for such superstitious practices; and the like, for What we know, may continue to linger among the benighted wanderers of their race at the present day. But all these things are extraneous to our enquiry, the purpose of which was to discover whether any real evidence could be derived from sacred history to prove the early existence of that branch of demonology which has been the object, in comparatively modern times, of criminal prosecution and capital punishment. We have already alluded to this as the contract of witchcraft, in which, as the term was understood in the Middle Ages, the demon and the witch or wizard combined their various powers of doing harm to inflict calamities upon the person and property, the fortune and the fame, of innocent human beings, imposing the most horrible diseases, and death itself, as marks of their slightest ill-will; transforming their own persons and those of others at their pleasure; raising tempests to ravage the crops of their enemies, or carrying them home to their own garners; annihilating or transferring to their own dairies the produce of herds; spreading pestilence among cattle, infecting and blighting children; and, in a word, doing more evil than the heart of man might be supposed capable of conceiving, by means far beyond mere human power to accomplish. If it could be supposed that such unnatural leagues existed, and that there were wretches wicked enough, merely for the gratification of malignant spite or the enjoyment of some beastly revelry, to become the wretched slaves of infernal spirits, most just and equitable would be those laws which cut them off from the midst of every Christian commonwealth. But it is still more just and equitable, before punishment be inflicted for any crime, to prove that there is a possibility of that crime being committed. We have therefore advanced an important step in our enquiry when we have ascertained that the _witch_ of the Old Testament was not capable of anything beyond the administration of baleful drugs or the practising of paltry imposture; in other words, that she did not hold the character ascribed to a modern sorceress. We have thus removed out of the argument the startling objection that, in denying the existence of witchcraft, we deny the possibility of a crime which was declared capital in the Mosaic law, and are left at full liberty to adopt the opinion, that the more modern system of witchcraft was a part, and by no means the least gross, of that mass of errors which appeared among the members of the Christian Church when their religion, becoming gradually corrupted by the devices of men and the barbarism of those nations among whom it was spread showed, a light indeed, but one deeply tinged with the remains of that very pagan ignorance which its Divine Founder came to dispel. We will, in a future part of this enquiry, endeavour to show that many of the particular articles of the popular belief respecting magic and witchcraft were derived from the opinions which the ancient heathens entertained as part of their religion. To recommend them, however, they had principles lying deep in the human mind and heart of all times; the tendency to belief in supernatural agencies is natural, and indeed seems connected with and deduced from the invaluable conviction of the certainty of a future state. Moreover, it is very possible that particular stories of this class may have seemed undeniable in the dark ages, though our better instructed period can explain them in a satisfactory manner by the excited temperament of spectators, or the influence of delusions produced by derangement of the intellect or imperfect reports of the external senses. They obtained, however, universal faith and credit; and the churchmen, either from craft or from ignorance, favoured the progress of a belief which certainly contributed in a most powerful manner to extend their own authority over the human mind. To pass from the pagans of antiquity--the Mahommedans, though their profession of faith is exclusively unitarian, were accounted worshippers of evil spirits, who were supposed to aid them in their continual warfare against the Christians, or to protect and defend them in the Holy Land, where their abode gave so much scandal and offence to the devout. Romance, and even history, combined in representing all who were out of the pale of the Church as the personal vassals of Satan, who played his deceptions openly amongst them; and Mahound, Termagaunt, and _Apollo_ were, in the opinion of the Western Crusaders, only so many names of the arch-fiend and his principal angels. The most enormous fictions spread abroad and believed through Christendom attested the fact, that there were open displays of supernatural aid afforded by the evil spirits to the Turks and Saracens; and fictitious reports were not less liberal in assigning to the Christians extraordinary means of defence through the direct protection of blessed saints and angels, or of holy men yet in the flesh, but already anticipating the privileges proper to a state of beatitude and glory, and possessing the power to work miracles. To show the extreme grossness of these legends, we may give an example from the romance of "Richard Coeur de Lion," premising at the same time that, like other romances, it was written in what the author designed to be the style of true history, and was addressed to hearers and readers, not as a tale of fiction, but a real narrative of facts, so that the legend is a proof of what the age esteemed credible and were disposed to believe as much as if had been extracted from a graver chronicle. The renowned Saladin, it is said, had dispatched an embassy to King Richard, with the present of a colt recommended as a gallant war-horse, challenging Coeur de Lion to meet him in single combat between the armies, for the purpose of deciding at once their pretensions to the land of Palestine, and the theological question whether the God of the Christians, or Jupiter, the deity of the Saracens, should be the future object of adoration by the subjects of both monarchs. Now, under this seemingly chivalrous defiance was concealed a most unknightly stratagem, and which we may at the same time call a very clumsy trick for the devil to be concerned in. A Saracen clerk had conjured two devils into a mare and her colt, with the instruction, that whenever the mare neighed, the foal, which was a brute of uncommon size, should kneel down to suck his dam. The enchanted foal was sent to King Richard in the belief that the foal, obeying the signal of its dam as usual, the Soldan who mounted the mare might get an easy advantage over him. But the English king was warned by an angel in a dream of the intended stratagem, and the colt was, by the celestial mandate, previously to the combat, conjured in the holy name to be obedient to his rider during the encounter. The fiend-horse intimated his submission by drooping his head, but his word was not entirely credited. His ears were stopped with wax. In this condition, Richard, armed at all points and with various marks of his religious faith displayed on his weapons, rode forth to meet Saladin, and the Soldan, confident of his stratagem, encountered him boldly. The mare neighed till she shook the ground for miles around; but the sucking devil, whom the wax prevented from hearing the summons, could not obey the signal. Saladin was dismounted, and narrowly escaped death, while his army were cut to pieces by the Christians. It is but an awkward tale of wonder where a demon is worsted by a trick which could hardly have cheated a common horse-jockey; but by such legends our ancestors were amused and interested, till their belief respecting the demons of the Holy Land seems to have been not very far different from that expressed in the title of Ben Jonson's play, "The Devil is an Ass." One of the earliest maps ever published, which appeared at Rome in the sixteenth century, intimates a similar belief in the connexion of the heathen nations of the north of Europe with the demons of the spiritual world. In Esthonia, Lithuania, Courland, and such districts, the chart, for want, it may be supposed, of an accurate account of the country, exhibits rude cuts of the fur-clad natives paying homage at the shrines of demons, who make themselves visibly present to them; while at other places they are displayed as doing battle with the Teutonic knights, or other military associations formed for the conversion or expulsion of the heathens in these parts. Amid the pagans, armed with scimitars and dressed in caftans, the fiends are painted as assisting them, pourtrayed in all the modern horrors of the cloven foot, or, as the Germans term it, horse's foot, bat wings, saucer eyes, locks like serpents, and tail like a dragon. These attributes, it may be cursorily noticed, themselves intimate the connexion of modern demonology with the mythology of the ancients. The cloven foot is the attribute of Pan--to whose talents for inspiring terror we owe the word _panic_--the snaky tresses are borrowed from the shield of Minerva, and the dragon train alone seems to be connected with the Scriptural history.[5] [Footnote 5: The chart alluded to is one of the _jac-similes_ of an ancient planisphere, engraved in bronze about the end of the 15th century, and called the Borgian Table, from its possessor, Cardinal Stephen Borgia, and preserved in his museum at Veletri.] Other heathen nations, whose creeds could not have directly contributed to the system of demonology, because their manners and even their very existence was unknown when it was adopted, were nevertheless involved, so soon as Europeans became acquainted with them, in the same charge of witchcraft and worship of demons brought by the Christians of the Middle Ages against the heathens of northern Europe and the Mahommedans of the East. We learn from the information of a Portuguese voyager that even the native Christians (called those of St. Thomas), whom the discoverers found in India when they first arrived there, fell under suspicion of diabolical practices. It was almost in vain that the priests of one of their chapels produced to the Portuguese officers and soldiers a holy image, and called on them, as good Christians, to adore the Blessed Virgin. The sculptor had been so little acquainted with his art, and the hideous form which he had produced resembled an inhabitant of the infernal regions so much more than Our Lady of Grace, that one of the European officers, while, like his companions, he dropped on his knees, added the loud protest, that if the image represented the Devil, he paid his homage to the Holy Virgin. In South America the Spaniards justified the unrelenting cruelties exercised on the unhappy natives by reiterating, in all their accounts of the countries which they discovered and conquered, that the Indians, in their idol worship, were favoured by the demons with a direct intercourse, and that their priests inculcated doctrines and rites the foulest and most abhorrent to Christian ears. The great snake-god of Mexico, and other idols worshipped with human sacrifices and bathed in the gore of their prisoners, gave but too much probability to this accusation; and if the images themselves were not actually tenanted by evil spirits, the worship which the Mexicans paid to them was founded upon such deadly cruelty and dark superstition as might easily be believed to have been breathed into mortals by the agency of hell. Even in North America, the first settlers in New England and other parts of that immense continent uniformly agreed that they detected among the inhabitants traces of an intimate connexion with Satan. It is scarce necessary to remark that this opinion was founded exclusively upon the tricks practised by the native powahs, or cunning men, to raise themselves to influence among the chiefs, and to obtain esteem with the people, which, possessed as they were professionally of some skill in jugglery and the knowledge of some medical herbs and secrets, the understanding of the colonists was unable to trace to their real source--legerdemain and imposture. By the account, however, of the Reverend Cotton Mather, in his _Magnalia_, book vi.,[6] he does not ascribe to these Indian conjurers any skill greatly superior to a maker of almanacks or common fortune-teller. "They," says the Doctor, "universally acknowledged and worshipped many gods, and therefore highly esteemed and reverenced their priests, powahs, or wizards, who were esteemed as having immediate converse with the gods. To them, therefore, they addressed themselves in all difficult cases: yet could not all that desired that dignity, as they esteemed it, obtain familiarity with the infernal spirits. Nor were all powahs alike successful in their addresses; but they became such, either by immediate revelation, or in the use of certain rites and ceremonies, which tradition had left as conducing to that end. In so much, that parents, out of zeal, often dedicated their children to the gods, and educated them accordingly, observing a certain diet, debarring sleep, &c.: yet of the many designed, but few obtained their desire. Supposing that where the practice of witchcraft has been highly esteemed, there must be given the plainest demonstration of mortals having familiarity with infernal spirits, I am willing to let my reader know, that, not many years since, here died one of the powahs, who never pretended to astrological knowledge, yet could precisely inform such who desired his assistance, from whence goods stolen from them were gone, and whither carried, with many things of the like nature; nor was he ever known to endeavour to conceal his knowledge to be immediately _from a god subservient to him that the English worship_. This powah, being by an Englishman worthy of credit (who lately informed me of the same), desired to advise him who had taken certain goods which had been stolen, having formerly been an eye-witness of his ability, the powah, after a little pausing, demanded why he requested that from him, since himself served another God? that therefore he could not help him; but added, '_If you can believe that my god may help you, I will try what I can do_; which diverted the man from further enquiry. I must a little digress, and tell my reader, that this powah's wife was accounted a godly woman, and lived in the practice and profession of the Christian religion, not only by the approbation, but encouragement of her husband. She constantly prayed in the family, and attended the public worship on the Lord's days. He declared that he could not blame her, for that she served a god that was above his; but that as to himself, his god's continued kindness obliged him not to forsake his service." It appears, from the above and similar passages, that Dr. Cotton Mather, an honest and devout, but sufficiently credulous man, had mistaken the purpose of the tolerant powah. The latter only desired to elude the necessity of his practices being brought under the observant eye of an European, while he found an ingenious apology in the admitted superiority which he naturally conceded to the Deity of a people, advanced, as he might well conceive, so far above his own in power and attainments, as might reasonably infer a corresponding superiority in the nature and objects of their worship. [Footnote 6: "On Remarkable Mercies of Divine Providence."] From another narrative we are entitled to infer that the European wizard was held superior to the native sorcerer of North America. Among the numberless extravagances of the Scottish Dissenters of the 17th century, now canonized in a lump by those who view them in the general light of enemies to Prelacy, was a certain ship-master, called, from his size, Meikle John Gibb. This man, a person called Jamie, and one or two other men, besides twenty or thirty females who adhered to them, went the wildest lengths of enthusiasm. Gibb headed a party, who followed him into the moorlands, and at the Ford Moss, between Airth and Stirling, burned their Bibles, as an act of solemn adherence to their new faith. They were apprehended in consequence, and committed to prison; and the rest of the Dissenters, however differently they were affected by the persecution of Government, when it applied to themselves, were nevertheless much offended that these poor mad people were not brought to capital punishment for their blasphemous extravagances; and imputed it as a fresh crime to the Duke of York that, though he could not be often accused of toleration, he considered the discipline of the house of correction as more likely to bring the unfortunate Gibbites to their senses than the more dignified severities of a public trial and the gallows. The Cameronians, however, did their best to correct this scandalous lenity. As Meikle John Gibb, who was their comrade in captivity, used to disturb their worship in jail by his maniac howling, two of them took turn about to hold him down by force, and silence him by a napkin thrust into his mouth. This mode of quieting the unlucky heretic, though sufficiently emphatic, being deemed ineffectual or inconvenient, George Jackson, a Cameronian, who afterwards suffered at the gallows, dashed the maniac with his feet and hands against the wall, and beat him so severely that the rest were afraid that he had killed him outright. After which specimen of fraternal chastisement, the lunatic, to avoid the repetition of the discipline, whenever the prisoners began worship, ran behind the door, and there, with his own napkin crammed into his mouth, sat howling like a chastised cur. But on being finally transported to America, John Gibb, we are assured, was much admired by the heathen for his familiar converse with the devil bodily, and offering sacrifices to him. "He died there," says Walker, "about the year 1720."[7] We must necessarily infer that the pretensions of the natives to supernatural communication could not be of a high class, since we find them honouring this poor madman as their superior; and, in general, that the magic, or powahing, of the North American Indians was not of a nature to be much apprehended by the British colonists, since the natives themselves gave honour and precedence to those Europeans who came among them with the character of possessing intercourse with the spirits whom they themselves professed to worship. [Footnote 7: See Patrick Walker's "Biographia Presbyteriana," vol. ii. p. 23; also "God's Judgment upon Persecutors," and Wodrow's "History," upon the article John Gibb.] Notwithstanding this inferiority on the part of the powahs, it occurred to the settlers that the heathen Indians and Roman Catholic Frenchmen were particularly favoured by the demons, who sometimes adopted their appearance, and showed themselves in their likeness, to the great annoyance of the colonists. Thus, in the year 1692, a party of real or imaginary French and Indians exhibited themselves occasionally to the colonists of the town of Gloucester, in the county of Essex, New England, alarmed the country around very greatly, skirmished repeatedly with the English, and caused the raising of two regiments, and the dispatching a strong reinforcement to the assistance of the settlement. But as these visitants, by whom they were plagued more than a fortnight, though they exchanged fire with the settlers, never killed or scalped any one, the English became convinced that they were not real Indians and Frenchmen, but that the devil and his agents had assumed such an appearance, although seemingly not enabled effectually to support it, for the molestation of the colony.[8] [Footnote 8: "Magnalia," book vii. article xviii. The fact is also alleged in the "Life of Sir William Phipps."] It appears, then, that the ideas of superstition which the more ignorant converts to the Christian faith borrowed from the wreck of the classic mythology, were so rooted in the minds of their successors, that these found corroboration of their faith in demonology in the practice of every pagan nation whose destiny it was to encounter them as enemies, and that as well within the limits of Europe as in every other part of the globe to which their arms were carried. In a word, it may be safely laid down, that the commonly received doctrine of demonology, presenting the same general outlines, though varied according to the fancy of particular nations, existed through all Europe. It seems to have been founded originally on feelings incident to the human heart, or diseases to which the human frame is liable--to have been largely augmented by what classic superstitions survived the ruins of paganism--and to have received new contributions from the opinions collected among the barbarous nations, whether of the east or of the west. It is now necessary to enter more minutely into the question, and endeavour to trace from what especial sources the people of the Middle Ages derived those notions which gradually assumed the shape of a regular system of demonology. LETTER III. Creed of Zoroaster--Received partially into most Heathen Nations--Instances among the Celtic Tribes of Scotland--Beltane Feast--Gudeman's Croft--Such abuses admitted into Christianity after the earlier Ages of the Church--Law of the Romans against Witchcraft --Roman customs survive the fall of their Religion--Instances--Demonology of the Northern Barbarians--Nicksas--Bhargeist--Correspondence between the Northern and Roman Witches--The power of Fascination ascribed to the Sorceresses--Example from the "Eyrbiggia Saga"--The Prophetesses of the Germans--The Gods of Valhalla not highly regarded by their Worshippers--Often defied by the Champions--Demons of the North--Story of Assueit and Asmund--Action of Ejectment against Spectres--Adventure of a Champion with the Goddess Freya--Conversion of the Pagans of Iceland to Christianity--Northern Superstitions mixed with those of the Celts--Satyrs of the North--Highland Ourisk--Meming the Satyr. The creed of Zoroaster, which naturally occurs to unassisted reason as a mode of accounting for the mingled existence of good and evil in the visible world--that belief which, in one modification or another, supposes the co-existence of a benevolent and malevolent principle, which contend together without either being able decisively to prevail over his antagonist, leads the fear and awe deeply impressed on the human mind to the worship as well of the author of evil, so tremendous in all the effects of which credulity accounts him the primary cause, as to that of his great opponent, who is loved and adored as the father of all that is good and bountiful. Nay, such is the timid servility of human nature that the worshippers will neglect the altars of the Author of good rather than that of Arimanes, trusting with indifference to the well-known mercy of the one, while they shrink from the idea of irritating the vengeful jealousy of the awful father of evil. The Celtic tribes, by whom, under various denominations, Europe seems to have been originally peopled, possessed, in common with other savages, a natural tendency to the worship of the evil principle. They did not, perhaps, adore Arimanes under one sole name, or consider the malignant divinities as sufficiently powerful to undertake a direct struggle with the more benevolent gods; yet they thought it worth while to propitiate them by various expiatory rites and prayers, that they, and the elementary tempests which they conceived to be under their direct command, might be merciful to suppliants who had acknowledged their power, and deprecated their vengeance. Remains of these superstitions might be traced till past the middle of the last century, though fast becoming obsolete, or passing into mere popular customs of the country, which the peasantry observe without thinking of their origin. About 1769, when Mr. Pennant made his tour, the ceremony of the Baaltein, Beltane, or First of May, though varying in different districts of the Highlands, was yet in strict observance, and the cake, which was then baken with scrupulous attention to certain rites and forms, was divided into fragments, which were formally dedicated to birds or beasts of prey that they, or rather the being whose agents they were, might spare the flocks and herds.[9] [Footnote 9: See Tennant's "Scottish Tour," vol. i. p. III. The traveller mentions that some festival of the same kind was in his time observed in Gloucestershire.] Another custom of similar origin lingered late among us. In many parishes of Scotland there was suffered to exist a certain portion of land, called _the gudeman's croft_, which was never ploughed or cultivated, but suffered to remain waste, like the TEMENOS of a pagan temple, Though it was not expressly avowed, no one doubted that "the goodman's croft" was set apart for some evil being; in fact, that it was the portion of the arch-fiend himself, whom our ancestors distinguished by a name which, while it was generally understood, could not, it was supposed, be offensive to the stern inhabitant of the regions of despair. This was so general a custom that the Church published an ordinance against it as an impious and blasphemous usage. This singular custom sunk before the efforts of the clergy in the seventeenth century; but there must still be many alive who, in childhood, have been taught to look with wonder on knolls and patches of ground left uncultivated, because, whenever a ploughshare entered the soil, the elementary spirits were supposed to testify their displeasure by storm and thunder. Within our own memory, many such places, sanctified to barrenness by some favourite popular superstition, existed, both in Wales and Ireland, as well as in Scotland; but the high price of agricultural produce during the late war renders it doubtful if a veneration for greybearded superstition has suffered any one of them to remain undesecrated. For the same reason the mounts called Sith Bhruaith were respected, and it was deemed unlawful and dangerous to cut wood, dig earth and stones, or otherwise disturb them.[10] [Footnote 10: See "Essay on the Subterranean Commonwealth," by Mr. Robert Kirke, minister of Aberfoyle.] Now, it may at first sight seem strange that the Christian religion should have permitted the existence of such gross and impious relics of heathenism, in a land where its doctrines had obtained universal credence. But this will not appear so wonderful when it is recollected that the original Christians under the heathen emperors were called to conversion by the voice of apostles and saints, invested for the purpose with miraculous powers, as well of language, for communicating their doctrine to the Gentiles, as of cures, for the purpose of authenticating their mission. These converts must have been in general such elect persons as were effectually called to make part of the infant church; and when hypocrites ventured, like Ananias and Sapphira, to intrude themselves into so select an association, they were liable, at the Divine pleasure, to be detected and punished. On the contrary, the nations who were converted after Christianity had become the religion of the empire were not brought within the pale upon such a principle of selection, as when the church consisted of a few individuals, who had, upon conviction, exchanged the errors of the pagan religion for the dangers and duties incurred by those who embraced a faith inferring the self-denial of its votaries, and at the same time exposing them to persecution. When the cross became triumphant, and its cause no longer required the direction of inspired men, or the evidence of miracles, to compel reluctant belief, it is evident that the converts who thronged into the fold must have, many of them, entered because Christianity was the prevailing faith--many because it was the church, the members of which rose most readily to promotion--many, finally, who, though content to resign the worship of pagan divinities, could not at once clear their minds of heathen ritual and heathen observances, which they inconsistently laboured to unite with the more simple and majestic faith that disdained such impure union. If this was the case, even in the Roman empire, where the converts to the Christian faith must have found, among the earlier members of the church, the readiest and the soundest instruction, how much more imperfectly could those foreign and barbarous tribes receive the necessary religious information from some zealous and enthusiastic preacher, who christened them by hundreds in one day? Still less could we imagine them to have acquired a knowledge of Christianity, in the genuine and perfect sense of the word, when, as was frequently the case, they only assumed the profession of the religion that had become the choice of some favoured chief, whose example they followed in mere love and loyalty, without, perhaps, attaching more consequence to a change of religion than to a change of garments. Such hasty converts, professing themselves Christians, but neither weaned from their old belief, nor instructed in their new one, entered the sanctuary without laying aside the superstitions with which their young minds had been imbued; and accustomed to a plurality of deities, some of them, who bestowed unusual thought on the matter, might be of opinion that, in adopting the God of the Christians, they had not renounced the service of every inferior power. If, indeed, the laws of the empire could have been supposed to have had any influence over those fierce barbarians, who conceived that the empire itself lay before them as a spoil, they might have been told that Constantine, taking the offence of alleged magicians and sorcerers in the same light in which it was viewed in the law of Moses, had denounced death against any who used these unlawful enquiries into futurity. "Let the unlawful curiosity of prying into futurity," says the law, "be silent in every one henceforth and for ever.[11] For, subjected to the avenging sword of the law, he shall be punished capitally who disobeys our commands in this matter." [Footnote 11: "Codex," lib. ix. tit. 18, cap. 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8.] If, however, we look more closely into this enactment, we shall be led to conclude that the civil law does not found upon the prohibitions and penalties in Scripture; although it condemns the _ars mathematica_ (for the most mystic and uncertain of all sciences, real or pretended, at that time held the title which now distinguishes the most exact) as a damnable art, and utterly interdicted, and declares that the practitioners therein should die by fire, as enemies of the human race--yet the reason of this severe treatment seems to be different from that acted upon in the Mosaical institutions. The weight of the crime among the Jews was placed on the blasphemy of the diviners, and their treason against the theocracy instituted by Jehovah. The Roman legislators were, on the other hand, moved chiefly by the danger arising to the person of the prince and the quiet of the state, so apt to be unsettled by every pretence or encouragement to innovation. The reigning emperors, therefore, were desirous to place a check upon the mathematics (as they termed the art of divination), much more for a political than a religious cause, since we observe, in the history of the empire, how often the dethronement or death of the sovereign was produced by conspiracies or mutinies which took their rise from pretended prophecies. In this mode of viewing the crime, the lawyers of the lower empire acted upon the example of those who had compiled the laws of the twelve tables.[12] The mistaken and misplaced devotion which Horace recommends to the rural nymph, Phidyle, would have been a crime of a deep dye in a Christian convert, and must have subjected him to excommunication, as one relapsed to the rites of paganism; but he might indulge his superstition by supposing that though he must not worship Pan or Ceres as gods, he was at liberty to fear them in their new capacity of fiends. Some compromise between the fear and the conscience of the new converts, at a time when the church no longer consisted exclusively of saints, martyrs, and confessors, the disciples of inspired Apostles, led them, and even their priestly guides, subject like themselves to human passions and errors, to resort as a charm, if not as an act of worship, to those sacrifices, words, and ritual, by which the heathen, whom they had succeeded, pretended to arrest evil or procure benefits. [Footnote 12: By this more ancient code, the punishment of death was indeed denounced against those who destroyed crops, awakened storms, or brought over to their barns and garners the fruits of the earth; but, by good fortune, it left the agriculturists of the period at liberty to use the means they thought most proper to render their fields fertile and plentiful. Pliny informs us that one Caius Furius Cresinus, a Roman of mean estate, raised larger crops from a small field than his neighbours could obtain from more ample possessions. He was brought before the judge upon a charge averring that he conjured the fruits of the earth, produced by his neighbours' farms, into his own possession. Cresinus appeared, and, having proved the return of his farm to be the produce of his own hard and unremitting labour, as well as superior skill, was dismissed with the highest honours.] When such belief in a hostile principle and its imaginations was become general in the Roman empire, the ignorance of its conquerors, those wild nations, Franks, Goths, Vandals, Huns, and similar classes of unrefined humanity, made them prone to an error which there were few judicious preachers to warn them against; and we ought rather to wonder and admire the Divine clemency, which imparted to so rude nations the light of the Gospel, and disposed them to receive a religion so repugnant to their warlike habits, than that they should, at the same time, have adopted many gross superstitions, borrowed from the pagans, or retained numbers of those which had made part of their own national forms of heathenism. Thus, though the thrones of Jupiter and the superior deities of the heathen Pantheon were totally overthrown and broken to pieces, fragments of their worship and many of their rites survived the conversion to Christianity--nay, are in existence even at this late and enlightened period, although those by whom they are practised have not preserved the least memory of their original purpose. We may hastily mention one or two customs of classical origin, in addition to the Beltane and those already noticed, which remain as examples that the manners of the Romans once gave the tone to the greater part of the island of Britain, and at least to the whole which was to the south of the wall of Severus. The following customs still linger in the south of Scotland, and belong to this class: The bride, when she enters the house of her husband, is lifted over the threshold, and to step on it or over it voluntarily is reckoned a bad omen. This custom was universal in Rome, where it was observed as keeping in memory the rape of the Sabines, and that it was by a show of violence towards the females that the object of peopling the city was attained. On the same occasion a sweet cake, baked for the purpose, is broken above the head of the bride; which is also a rite of classic antiquity. In like manner, the Scottish, even of the better rank, avoid contracting marriage in the month of May, which genial season of flowers and breezes might, in other respects, appear so peculiarly favourable for that purpose. It was specially objected to the marriage of Mary with the profligate Earl of Bothwell, that the union was formed within this interdicted month. This prejudice was so rooted among the Scots that, in 1684, a set of enthusiasts, called Gibbites, proposed to renounce it, among a long list of stated festivals, fast-days, popish relics, not forgetting the profane names of the days of the week, names of the months, and all sorts of idle and silly practices which their tender consciences took an exception to. This objection to solemnize marriage in the merry month of May, however fit a season for courtship, is also borrowed from the Roman pagans, which, had these fanatics been aware of it, would have been an additional reason for their anathema against the practice. The ancients have given us as a maxim, that it is only bad women who marry in that month.[13] [Footnote 13: "Malæ nubent Maia."] The custom of saying God bless you, when a person in company sneezes, is, in like manner, derived from sternutation being considered as a crisis of the plague at Athens, and the hope that, when it was attained the patient had a chance of recovery. But besides these, and many other customs which the various nations of Europe received from the classical times, and which it is not our object to investigate, they derived from thence a shoal of superstitious beliefs, which, blended and mingled with those which they brought with them out of their own country, fostered and formed the materials of a demonological creed which has descended down almost to our own times. Nixas, or Nicksa, a river or ocean god, worshipped on the shores of the Baltic, seems to have taken uncontested possession of the attributes of Neptune. Amid the twilight winters and overpowering tempests of these gloomy regions, he had been not unnaturally chosen as the power most adverse to man, and the supernatural character with which he was invested has descended to our time under two different aspects. The Nixa of the Germans is one of those fascinating and lovely fays whom the ancients termed Naiads; and unless her pride is insulted or her jealousy awakened by an inconstant lover, her temper is generally mild and her actions beneficent. The Old Nick known in England is an equally genuine descendant of the northern sea-god, and possesses a larger portion of his powers and terrors The British sailor, who fears nothing else, confesses his terror for this terrible being, and believes him the author of almost all the various calamities to which the precarious life of a seaman is so continually exposed. The Bhar-guest, or Bhar-geist, by which name it is generally acknowledged through various country parts of England, and particularly in Yorkshire, also called a Dobie--a local spectre which haunts a particular spot under various forms--is a deity, as his name implies, of Teutonic descent; and if it be true, as the author has been informed, that some families bearing the name of Dobie carry a phantom or spectre, passant, in their armorial bearings,[14] it plainly implies that, however the word may have been selected for a proper name, its original derivation had not then been forgotten. [Footnote 14: A similar bearing has been ascribed, for the same reason, to those of the name of Fantome, who carried of old a goblin, or phantom, in a shroud sable passant, on a field azure. Both bearings are founded on what is called canting heraldry, a species of art disowned by the writers on the science, yet universally made use of by those who practice the art of blazonry.] The classic mythology presented numerous points in which it readily coalesced with that of the Germans, Danes, and Northmen of a later period. They recognized the power of Erictho, Canidia, and other sorceresses, whose spell could perplex the course of the elements, intercept the influence of the sun, and prevent his beneficial operation upon the fruits of the earth, call down the moon from her appointed sphere, and disturb the original and destined course of Nature by their words and charms and the power of the evil spirits whom they invoked. They were also professionally implicated in all such mystic and secret rites and ceremonies as were used to conciliate the favour of the infernal powers, whose dispositions were supposed as dark and wayward as their realms were gloomy and dismal. Such hags were frequent agents in the violation of unburied bodies, and it was believed, by the vulgar at least, that it was dangerous to leave corpses unguarded lest they should be mangled by the witches, who took from them the most choice ingredients composing their charms. Above all, it must not be forgotten that these frightful sorceresses possessed the power of transforming themselves and others into animals, which are used in their degree of quadrupeds, or in whatever other laborious occupation belongs to the transformed state. The poets of the heathens, with authors of fiction, such as Lucian and Apuleius, ascribe all these powers to the witches of the pagan world, combining them with the art of poisoning, and of making magical philtres to seduce the affections of the young and beautiful; and such were the characteristics which, in greater or less extent, the people of the Middle Ages ascribed to the witches of their day. But in thus adopting the superstitions of the ancients, the conquerors of the Roman Empire combined them with similar articles of belief which they had brought with them from their original settlements in the North, where the existence of hags of the same character formed a great feature in their Sagas and their Chronicles. It requires but a slight acquaintance with these compositions to enable the reader to recognize in the Galdrakinna of the Scalds the _Stryga_ or witch-woman of more classical climates. In the northern ideas of witches there was no irreligion concerned with their lore. On the contrary, the possession of magical knowledge was an especial attribute of Odin himself; and to intrude themselves upon a deity, and compel him to instruct them in what they desired to know, was accounted not an act of impiety, but of gallantry and high courage, among those sons of the sword and the spear. Their matrons possessed a high reputation for magic, for prophetic powers, for creating illusions; and, if not capable of transformations of the human body, they were at least able to impose such fascination on the sight of their enemies as to conceal for a period the objects of which they were in search. There is a remarkable story in the Eyrbiggia Saga ("Historia Eyranorum"), giving the result of such a controversy between two of these gifted women, one of whom was determined on discovering and putting to death the son of the other, named Katla, who in a brawl had cut off the hand of the daughter-in-law of Geirada. A party detached to avenge this wrong, by putting Oddo to death, returned deceived by the skill of his mother. They had found only Katla, they said, spinning flax from a large distaff. "Fools," said Geirada, "that distaff was the man you sought." They returned, seized the distaff, and burnt it. But this second time, the witch disguised her son under the appearance of a tame kid. A third time he was a hog, which grovelled among the ashes. The party returned yet again; augmented as one of Katla's maidens, who kept watch, informed her mistress, by one in a blue mantle. "Alas!" said Katla, "it is the sorceress Geirada, against whom spells avail not." Accordingly, the hostile party, entering for the fourth time, seized on the object of their animosity, and put him to death.[15] This species of witchcraft is well known in Scotland as the _glamour,_ or _deceptio visus_, and was supposed to be a special attribute of the race of Gipsies. [Footnote 15: Eyrbiggia Saga, in "Northern Antiquities."] Neither are those prophetesses to be forgotten, so much honoured among the German tribes, that, as we are assured by Tacitus, they rose to the highest rank in their councils, by their supposed supernatural knowledge, and even obtained a share in the direction of their armies. This peculiarity in the habits of the North was so general, that it was no unusual thing to see females, from respect to their supposed views into futurity, and the degree of divine inspiration which was vouchsafed to them, arise to the degree of HAXA, or chief priestess, from which comes the word _Hexe_, now universally used for a witch; a circumstance which plainly shows that the mythological system of the ancient natives of the North had given to the modern language an appropriate word for distinguishing those females who had intercourse with the spiritual world.[16] [Footnote 16: It may be worth while to notice that the word Haxa is still used in Scotland in its sense of a druidess, or chief priestess, to distinguish the places where such females exercised their ritual. There is a species of small intrenchment on the western descent of the Eildon hills, which Mr. Milne, in his account of the parish of Melrose, drawn up about eighty years ago, says, was denominated _Bourjo_, a word of unknown derivation, by which the place is still known. Here an universal and subsisting tradition bore that human sacrifices were of yore offered, while the people assisting could behold the ceremony from the elevation of the glacis which slopes inward. With this place of sacrifice communicated a path, still discernible, called the _Haxell-gate_, leading to a small glen or narrow valley called the _Haxellcleuch_--both which words are probably derived from the Haxa or chief priestess of the pagans.] It is undeniable that these Pythonesses were held in high respect while the pagan religion lasted; but for that very reason they became odious so soon as the tribe was converted to Christianity. They were, of course, if they pretended to retain their influence, either despised as impostors or feared as sorceresses; and the more that, in particular instances, they became dreaded for their power, the more they were detested, under the conviction that they derived it from the enemy of man. The deities of the northern heathens underwent a similar metamorphosis, resembling that proposed by Drawcansir in the "Rehearsal," who threatens "to make a god subscribe himself a devil." The warriors of the North received this new impression concerning the influence of their deities, and the source from which it was derived, with the more indifference, as their worship, when their mythology was most generally established, was never of a very reverential or devotional character. Their idea of their own merely human prowess was so high, that the champions made it their boast, as we have already hinted, they would not give way in fight even to the immortal gods themselves. Such, we learn from Cæsar, was the idea of the Germans concerning the Suevi, or Swabians, a tribe to whom the others yielded the palm of valour; and many individual stories are told in the Sagas concerning bold champions, who had fought, not only with the sorcerers, but with the demigods of the system, and come off unharmed, if not victorious, in the contest. Hother, for example, encountered the god Thor in battle, as Diomede, in the Iliad, engages with Mars, and with like success. Bartholsine[17] gives us repeated examples of the same kind. "Know this," said Kiartan to Olaus Trigguasen, "that I believe neither in idols nor demons. I have travelled through various strange countries, and have encountered many giants and monsters, and have never been conquered by them; I therefore put my sole trust in my own strength of body and courage of soul." Another yet more broad answer was made to St. Olaus, King of Norway, by Gaukater. "I am neither Pagan nor Christian. My comrades and I profess no other religion than a perfect confidence in our own strength and invincibility in battle." Such chieftains were of the sect of Mezentius-- "Dextra mihi Deus, et telum, quod missile libro, Nunc adsint!"[18] And we cannot wonder that champions of such a character, careless of their gods while yet acknowledged as such, readily regarded them as demons after their conversion to Christianity. [Footnote 17: "De causis contemptæ necis," lib. i. cap 6.] [Footnote 18: "Æneid," lib. x. line 773.] To incur the highest extremity of danger became accounted a proof of that insuperable valour for which every Northman desired to be famed, and their annals afford numerous instances of encounters with ghosts, witches, furies, and fiends, whom the Kiempé, or champions, compelled to submit to their mere mortal strength, and yield to their service the weapons or other treasures which they guarded in their tombs. The Norsemen were the more prone to these superstitions, because it was a favourite fancy of theirs that, in many instances, the change from life to death altered the temper of the human spirit from benignant to malevolent; or perhaps, that when the soul left the body, its departure was occasionally supplied by a wicked demon, who took the opportunity to enter and occupy its late habitation. Upon such a supposition the wild fiction that follows is probably grounded; which, extravagant as it is, possesses something striking to the imagination. Saxo Grammaticus tells us of the fame of two Norse princes or chiefs, who had formed what was called a brotherhood in arms, implying not only the firmest friendship and constant support during all the adventures which they should undertake in life, but binding them by a solemn compact, that after the death of either, the survivor should descend alive into the sepulchre of his brother-in-arms, and consent to be buried alongst with him. The task of fulfilling this dreadful compact fell upon Asmund, his companion, Assueit, having been slain in battle. The tomb was formed after the ancient northern custom in what was called the age of hills, that is, when it was usual to bury persons of distinguished merit or rank on some conspicuous spot, which was crowned with a mound. With this purpose a deep narrow vault was constructed, to be the apartment of the future tomb over which the sepulchral heap was to be piled. Here they deposited arms, trophies, poured forth, perhaps, the blood of victims, introduced into the tomb the war-horses of the champions, and when these rites had been duly paid, the body of Assueit was placed in the dark and narrow house, while his faithful brother-in-arms entered and sat down by the corpse, without a word or look which testified regret or unwillingness to fulfil his fearful engagement. The soldiers who had witnessed this singular interment of the dead and living, rolled a huge stone to the mouth of the tomb, and piled so much earth and stones above the spot as made a mound visible from a great distance, and then, with loud lamentation for the loss of such undaunted leaders, they dispersed themselves like a flock which has lost its shepherd. Years passed away after years, and a century had elapsed ere a noble Swedish rover, bound upon some high adventure and supported by a gallant band of followers, arrived in the valley which took its name from the tomb of the brethren-in-arms. The story was told to the strangers, whose leader determined on opening the sepulchre, partly because, as already hinted, it was reckoned a heroic action to brave the anger of departed heroes by violating their tombs; partly to attain the arms and swords of proof with which the deceased had done their great actions. He set his soldiers to work, and soon removed the earth and stones from one side of the mound, and laid bare the entrance. But the stoutest of the rovers started back when, instead of the silence of a tomb, they heard within horrid cries, the clash of swords, the clang of armour, and all the noise of a mortal combat between two furious champions. A young warrior was let down into the profound tomb by a cord, which was drawn up shortly after, in hopes of news from beneath. But when the adventurer descended, some one threw him from the cord, and took his place in the noose. When the rope was pulled up, the soldiers, instead of their companion, beheld Asmund, the survivor of the brethren-in-arms. He rushed into the open air, his sword drawn in his hand, his armour half torn from his body, the left side of his face almost scratched off, as by the talons of some wild beast. He had no sooner appeared in the light of day, than, with the improvisatory poetic talent, which these champions often united with heroic strength and bravery, he poured forth a string of verses containing the history of his hundred years' conflict within the tomb. It seems that no sooner was the sepulchre closed than the corpse of the slain Assueit arose from the ground, inspired by some ravenous goule, and having first torn to pieces and devoured the horses which had been entombed with them, threw himself upon the companion who had just given him such a sign of devoted friendship, in order to treat him in the same manner. The hero, no way discountenanced by the horrors of his situation, took to his arms, and defended himself manfully against Assueit, or rather against the evil demon who tenanted that champion's body. In this manner the living brother waged a preternatural combat, which had endured during a whole century, when Asmund, at last obtaining the victory, prostrated his enemy, and by driving, as he boasted, a stake through his body, had finally reduced him to the state of quiet becoming a tenant of the tomb. Having chanted the triumphant account of his contest and victory, this mangled conqueror fell dead before them. The body of Assueit was taken out of the tomb, burnt, and the ashes dispersed to heaven; whilst that of the victor, now lifeless and without a companion, was deposited there, so that it was hoped his slumbers might remain undisturbed.[19] The precautions taken against Assueit's reviving a second time, remind us of those adopted in the Greek islands and in the Turkish provinces against the vampire. It affords also a derivation of the ancient English law in case of suicide, when a stake was driven through the body, originally to keep it secure in the tomb. [Footnote 19: See Saxo Grammaticus, "Hist. Dan.," lib. v.] The Northern people also acknowledged a kind of ghosts, who, when they had obtained possession of a building, or the right of haunting it, did not defend themselves against mortals on the knightly principle of duel, like Assueit, nor were amenable to the prayers of the priest or the spells of the sorcerer, but became tractable when properly convened in a legal process. The Eyrbiggia Saga acquaints us, that the mansion of a respectable landholder in Iceland was, soon after the settlement of that island, exposed to a persecution of this kind. The molestation was produced by the concurrence of certain mystical and spectral phenomena, calculated to introduce such persecution. About the commencement of winter, with that slight exchange of darkness and twilight which constitutes night and day in these latitudes, a contagious disease arose in a family of consequence and in the neighbourhood, which, sweeping off several members of the family at different times, seemed to threaten them all with death. But the death of these persons was attended with the singular consequence that their spectres were seen to wander in the neighbourhood of the mansion-house, terrifying, and even assaulting, those of the living family who ventured abroad. As the number of the dead members of the devoted household seemed to increase in proportion to that of the survivors, the ghosts took it upon them to enter the house, and produce their aërial forms and wasted physiognomy, even in the stove where the fire was maintained for the general use of the inhabitants, and which, in an Iceland winter, is the only comfortable place of assembling the family. But the remaining inhabitants of the place, terrified by the intrusion of these spectres, chose rather to withdraw to the other extremity of the house, and abandon their warm seats, than to endure the neighbourhood of the phantoms. Complaints were at length made to a pontiff of the god Thor, named Snorro, who exercised considerable influence in the island. By his counsel, the young proprietor of the haunted mansion assembled a jury, or inquest, of his neighbours, constituted in the usual judicial form, as if to judge an ordinary civil matter, and proceeded, in their presence, to cite individually the various phantoms and resemblances of the deceased members of the family, to show by what warrant they disputed with him and his servants the quiet possession of his property, and what defence they could plead for thus interfering with and incommoding the living. The spectres of the dead, by name, and in order as summoned, appeared on their being called, and muttering some regrets at being obliged to abandon their dwelling, departed, or vanished, from the astonished inquest. Judgment then went against the ghosts by default; and the trial by jury, of which we here can trace the origin, obtained a triumph unknown to any of the great writers who have made it the subject of eulogy.[20] [Footnote 20: Eyrbiggia Saga. See "Northern Antiquities."] It was not only with the spirits of the dead that the warlike people of the North made war without timidity, and successfully entered into suits of ejectment. These daring champions often braved the indignation even of the superior deities of their mythology, rather than allow that there existed any being before whom their boldness could quail. Such is the singular story how a young man of high courage, in crossing a desolate ridge of mountains, met with a huge waggon, in which the goddess, Freya (_i.e._, a gigantic idol formed to represent her), together with her shrine, and the wealthy offerings attached to it, was travelling from one district of the country to another. The shrine, or sanctuary of the idol, was, like a modern caravan travelling with a show, screened by boards and curtains from the public gaze, and the equipage was under the immediate guidance of the priestess of Freya, a young, good-looking, and attractive woman. The traveller naturally associated himself with the priestess, who, as she walked on foot, apparently was in no degree displeased with the company of a powerful and handsome young man, as a guide and companion on the journey. It chanced, however, that the presence of the champion, and his discourse with the priestess, was less satisfactory to the goddess than to the parties principally concerned. By a certain signal the divinity summoned the priestess to the sanctuary, who presently returned, with tears in her eyes and terror in her countenance, to inform her companion that it was the will of Freya that he should depart, and no longer travel in their company. "You must have mistaken the meaning of the goddess," said the champion; "Freya cannot have formed a wish so unreasonable as to desire I should abandon the straight and good road, which leads me directly on my journey, to choose precipitous paths and by-roads, where I may break my neck." "Nevertheless," said the priestess, "the goddess will be highly offended if you disobey her commands, nor can I conceal from you that she may personally assault you." "It will be at her own peril if she should be so audacious," said the champion, "for I will try the power of this axe against the strength of beams and boards." The priestess chid him for his impiety; but being unable to compel him to obey the goddess's mandate, they again relapsed into familiarity, which advanced to such a point that a clattering noise within the tabernacle, as of machinery put in motion, intimated to the travellers that Freya, who perhaps had some qualities in common with the classical Vesta, thought a personal interruption of this tête-à-tête ought to be deferred no longer. The curtains flew open, and the massive and awkward idol, who, we may suppose, resembled in form the giant created by Frankenstein, leapt lumbering from the carriage, and, rushing on the intrusive traveller, dealt him, with its wooden hands and arms, such tremendous blows, as were equally difficult to parry or to endure. But the champion was armed with a double-edged Danish axe, with which he bestirred himself with so much strength and activity, that at length he split the head of the image, and with a severe blow hewed off its left leg. The image of Freya then fell motionless to the ground, and the demon which had animated it fled yelling from the battered tenement. The champion was now victor; and, according to the law of arms, took possession of the female and the baggage. The priestess, the divinity of whose patroness had been by the event of the combat sorely lessened in her eyes, was now easily induced to become the associate and concubine of the conqueror. She accompanied him to the district whither he was travelling, and there displayed the shrine of Freya, taking care to hide the injuries which the goddess had received in the brawl. The champion came in for a share of a gainful trade driven by the priestess, besides appropriating to himself most of the treasures which the sanctuary had formerly contained. Neither does it appear that Freya, having, perhaps, a sensible recollection of the power of the axe, ever again ventured to appear in person for the purpose of calling her false stewards to account. The national estimation of deities, concerning whom such stories could be told and believed, was, of course, of no deep or respectful character. The Icelanders abandoned Odin, Freya, Thor, and their whole pagan mythology, in consideration of a single disputation between the heathen priests and the Christian missionaries. The priests threatened the island with a desolating eruption of the volcano called Hecla, as the necessary consequence of the vengeance of their deities. Snorro, the same who advised the inquest against the ghosts, had become a convert to the Christian religion, and was present on the occasion, and as the conference was held on the surface of what had been a stream of lava, now covered with vegetable substances, he answered the priests with much readiness, "To what was the indignation of the gods owing when the substance on which we stand was fluid and scorching? Believe me, men of Iceland, the eruption of the volcano depends on natural circumstances now as it did then, and is not the engine of vengeance intrusted to Thor and Odin." It is evident that men who reasoned with so much accuracy concerning the imbecility of Odin and Thor were well prepared, on abandoning their worship, to consider their former deities, of whom they believed so much that was impious, in the light of evil demons. But there were some particulars of the Northern creed in which it corresponded so exactly with that of the classics as leaves room to doubt whether the original Asæ, or Asiatics, the founders of the Scandinavian system, had, before their migration from Asia, derived them from some common source with those of the Greeks and Romans; or whether, on the other hand, the same proneness of the human mind to superstition has caused that similar ideas are adopted in different regions, as the same plants are found in distant countries without the one, as far as can be discovered, having obtained the seed from the others. The classical fiction, for example, of the satyrs and other subordinate deities of wood and wild, whose power is rather delusive than formidable, and whose supernatural pranks intimate rather a wish to inflict terror than to do hurt, was received among the Northern people, and perhaps transferred by them to the Celtic tribes. It is an idea which seems common to many nations. The existence of a satyr, in the silvan form, is even pretended to be proved by the evidence of Saint Anthony, to whom one is said to have appeared in the desert. The Scottish Gael have an idea of the same kind, respecting a goblin called _Ourisk_, whose form is like that of Pan, and his attendants something between a man and a goat, the nether extremities being in the latter form. A species of cavern, or rather hole, in the rock, affords to the wildest retreat in the romantic neighbourhood of Loch Katrine a name taken from classical superstition. It is not the least curious circumstance that from this silvan deity the modern nations of Europe have borrowed the degrading and unsuitable emblems of the goat's visage and form, the horns, hoofs, and tail, with which they have depicted the author of evil when it pleased him to show himself on earth. So that the alteration of a single word would render Pope's well-known line more truly adapted to the fact, should we venture to read-- "And Pan to _Satan_ lends his heathen horn." We cannot attribute the transferrence of the attributes of the Northern satyr, or Celtic ourisk, to the arch-fiend, to any particular resemblance between the character of these deities and that of Satan. On the contrary, the ourisk of the Celts was a creature by no means peculiarly malevolent or formidably powerful, but rather a melancholy spirit, which dwelt in wildernesses far removed from men. If we are to identify him with the Brown Dwarf of the Border moors, the ourisk has a mortal term of life and a hope of salvation, as indeed the same high claim was made by the satyr who appeared to St. Anthony. Moreover, the Highland ourisk was a species of lubber fiend, and capable of being over-reached by those who understood philology. It is related of one of these goblins which frequented a mill near the foot of Loch Lomond, that the miller, desiring to get rid of this meddling spirit, who injured the machinery by setting the water on the wheel when there was no grain to be grinded, contrived to have a meeting with the goblin by watching in his mill till night. The ourisk then entered, and demanded the miller's name, and was informed that he was called _Myself_; on which is founded a story almost exactly like that of OUTIS in the "Odyssey," a tale which, though classic, is by no means an elegant or ingenious fiction, but which we are astonished to find in an obscure district, and in the Celtic tongue, seeming to argue some connexion or communication between these remote Highlands of Scotland and the readers of Homer in former days, which we cannot account for. After all, perhaps, some Churchman more learned than his brethren may have transferred the legend from Sicily to Duncrune, from the shores of the Mediterranean to those of Loch Lomond. I have heard it also told that the celebrated freebooter, Rob Roy, once gained a victory by disguising a part of his men with goat-skins, so as to resemble the _ourisk_ or Highland satyr. There was an individual satyr called, I think, Meming, belonging to the Scandinavian mythology, of a character different from the ourisk, though similar in shape, whom it was the boast of the highest champions to seek out in the solitudes which he inhabited. He was an armourer of extreme dexterity, and the weapons which he forged were of the highest value. But as club-law pervaded the ancient system of Scandinavia, Meming had the humour of refusing to work for any customer save such as compelled him to it with force of arms. He may be, perhaps, identified with the recusant smith who fled before Fingal from Ireland to the Orkneys, and being there overtaken, was compelled to forge the sword which Fingal afterwards wore in all his battles, and which was called the Son of the dark brown Luno, from the name of the armourer who forged it.[21] [Footnote 21: The weapon is often mentioned in Mr. MacPherson's paraphrases; but the Irish ballad, which gives a spirited account of the debate between the champion and the armourer, is nowhere introduced.] From this it will appear that there were originals enough in the mythology of the Goths, as well as Celts, to furnish the modern attributes ascribed to Satan in later times, when the object of painter or poet was to display him in his true form and with all his terrors. Even the genius of Guido and of Tasso have been unable to surmount this prejudice, the more rooted, perhaps, that the wicked are described as goats in Scripture, and that the devil is called the old dragon. In Raffael's famous painting of the archangel Michael binding Satan, the dignity, power, and angelic character expressed by the seraph form an extraordinary contrast to the poor conception of a being who ought not, even in that lowest degradation, to have seemed so unworthy an antagonist. Neither has Tasso been more happy, where he represents the divan of darkness in the enchanted forest as presided over by a monarch having a huge tail, hoofs, and all the usual accompaniments of popular diablerie. The genius of Milton alone could discard all these vulgar puerilities, and assign to the author of evil the terrible dignity of one who should seem not "less than archangel ruined." This species of degradation is yet grosser when we take into consideration the changes which popular opinions have wrought respecting the taste, habits, powers, modes of tempting, and habits of tormenting, which are such as might rather be ascribed to some stupid superannuated and doting ogre of a fairy tale, than to the powerful-minded demon who fell through pride and rebellion, not through folly or incapacity. Having, however, adopted our present ideas of the devil as they are expressed by his nearest acquaintances, the witches, from the accounts of satyrs, which seem to have been articles of faith both among the Celtic and Gothic tribes, we must next notice another fruitful fountain of demonological fancies. But as this source of the mythology of the Middle Ages must necessarily comprehend some account of the fairy folk, to whom much of it must be referred, it is necessary to make a pause before we enter upon the mystic and marvellous connexion supposed to exist between the impenitent kingdom of Satan and those merry dancers by moonlight. LETTER IV. The Fairy Superstition is derived from different sources--The Classical Worship of the Silvans, or Rural Deities, proved by Roman Altars discovered--The Gothic Duergar, or Dwarfs--Supposed to be derived from the Northern Laps, or Fins--"The Niebelungen-Lied"--King Laurin's Adventure--Celtic Fairies of a gayer character, yet their pleasures empty and illusory--Addicted to carry off Human Beings, both Infants and Adults--Adventures of a Butler in Ireland--The Elves supposed to pay a Tax to Hell--The Irish, Welsh, Highlanders, and Manxmen held the same belief--It was rather rendered more gloomy by the Northern Traditions--Merlin and Arthur carried off by the Fairies--Also Thomas of Erceldoune--His Amour with the Queen of Elfland--His re-appearance in latter times--Another account from Reginald Scot--Conjectures on the derivation of the word Fairy. We may premise by observing, that the classics had not forgotten to enrol in their mythology a certain species of subordinate deities, resembling the modern elves in their habits. Good old Mr. Gibb, of the Advocates' Library (whom all lawyers whose youth he assisted in their studies, by his knowledge of that noble collection, are bound to name with gratitude), used to point out, amongst the ancient altars under his charge, one which is consecrated, _Diis campestribus,_ and usually added, with a wink, "The fairies, ye ken."[22] This relic of antiquity was discovered near Roxburgh Castle, and a vicinity more delightfully appropriate to the abode of the silvan deities can hardly be found. [Footnote 22: Another altar of elegant form and perfectly preserved, was, within these few weeks, dug up near the junction of the Leader and the Tweed, in the neighbourhood of the village of Newstead, to the east of Melrose. It was inscribed by Carrius Domitianus, the prefect of the twentieth legion, to the god Sylvanus, forming another instance how much the wild and silvan character of the country disposed the feelings of the Romans to acknowledge the presence of the rural deities. The altar is preserved at Drygrange, the seat of Mr. Tod.] Two rivers of considerable size, made yet more remarkable by the fame which has rendered them in some sort classical, unite their streams beneath the vestiges of an extensive castle, renowned in the wars with England, and for the valiant, noble, and even royal blood, which has been shed around and before it--a landscape ornamented with the distant village and huge abbey tower of Kelso, arising out of groves of aged trees--the modern mansion of Fleurs, with its terrace, its woods, and its extensive lawn--form altogether a kingdom for Oberon and Titania to reign in, or any spirit who, before their time, might love scenery, of which the majesty, and even the beauty, impress the mind with a sense of awe mingled with pleasure. These silvans, satyrs, and fauns with whom superstition peopled the lofty banks and tangled copses of this romantic country, were obliged to give place to deities very nearly resembling themselves in character, who probably derive some of their attributes from their classic predecessors, although more immediately allied to the barbarian conquerors. We allude to the fairies, which, as received into the popular creed, and as described by the poets who have made use of them as machinery, are certainly among the most pleasing legacies of fancy. Dr. Leyden, who exhausted on this subject, as upon most others, a profusion of learning, found the first idea of the elfin people in the Northern opinions concerning the duergar, or dwarfs.[23] These were, however, it must be owned, spirits of a coarser sort, more laborious vocation, and more malignant temper, and in all respects less propitious to humanity, than the fairies (properly so called), which were the invention of the Celtic people, and displayed that superiority of taste and fancy which, with the love of music and poetry, has been generally ascribed to their race, through its various classes and modifications. [Footnote 23: See the essay on the Fairy Superstition, in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," of which many of the materials were contributed by Dr. Leyden, and the whole brought into its present form by the author.] In fact, there seems reason to conclude that these duergar were originally nothing else than the diminutive natives of the Lappish, Lettish, and Finnish nations, who, flying before the conquering weapons of the Asæ, sought the most retired regions of the North, and there endeavoured to hide themselves from their Eastern invaders. They were a little, diminutive race, but possessed of some skill probably in mining or smelting minerals, with which the country abounds. Perhaps also they might, from their acquaintance with the changes of the clouds, or meteorological phenomena, be judges of weather, and so enjoy another title to supernatural skill. At any rate, it has been plausibly supposed that these poor people, who sought caverns and hiding-places from the persecution of the Asæ, were in some respects compensated for inferiority in strength and stature by the art and power with which the superstition of the enemy invested them. These oppressed yet dreaded fugitives obtained, naturally enough, the character of the German spirits called Kobold, from which the English goblin and the Scottish bogle, by some inversion and alteration of pronunciation, are evidently derived. The Kobolds were a species of gnomes, who haunted the dark and solitary places, and were often seen in the mines, where they seemed to imitate the labours of the miners, and sometimes took pleasure in frustrating their objects and rendering their toil unfruitful. Sometimes they were malignant, especially if neglected or insulted; but sometimes also they were indulgent to individuals whom they took under their protection. When a miner, therefore, hit upon a rich vein of ore, the inference commonly was, not that he possessed more skill, industry, or even luck, than his fellow-workmen, but that the spirits of the mine had directed him to the treasure. The employment and apparent occupation of these subterranean gnomes or fiends, led very naturally to identify the Fin, or Laplander, with the Kobold; but it was a bolder stretch of the imagination which confounded this reserved and sullen race with the livelier and gayer spirit which bears correspondence with the British fairy. Neither can we be surprised that the duergar, ascribed by many persons to this source, should exhibit a darker and more malignant character than the elves that revel by moonlight in more southern climates. According to the old Norse belief, these dwarfs form the current machinery of the Northern Sagas, and their inferiority in size is represented as compensated by skill and wisdom superior to those of ordinary mortals. In the "Niebelungen-Lied," one of the oldest romances of Germany, and compiled, it would seem, not long after the time of Attila, Theodorick of Bern, or of Verona, figures among a cycle of champions over whom he presides, like the Charlemagne of France or Arthur of England. Among others vanquished by him is the Elf King, or Dwarf Laurin, whose dwelling was in an enchanted garden of roses, and who had a body-guard of giants, a sort of persons seldom supposed to be themselves conjurers. He becomes a formidable opponent to Theodorick and his chivalry; but as he attempted by treachery to attain the victory, he is, when overcome, condemned to fill the dishonourable yet appropriate office of buffoon and juggler at the Court of Verona.[24] [Footnote 24: See an abstract, by the late learned Henry Weber, of "A Lay on this subject of King Laurin," complied by Henry of Osterdingen. "Northern Antiquities," Edinburgh, 1814.] Such possession of supernatural wisdom is still imputed by the natives of the Orkney and Zetland Islands to the people called _Drows_, being a corruption of duergar or _dwarfs_, and who may, in most other respects, be identified with the Caledonian fairies. Lucas Jacobson Debes, who dates his description of Feroe from his Pathmos, in Thorshaven, March 12, 1670, dedicates a long chapter to the spectres who disturbed his congregation, and sometimes carried off his hearers. The actors in these disturbances he states to be the _Skow_, or _Biergen-Trold_--_i.e._, the spirits of the woods and mountains, sometimes called subterranean people, and adds, they appeared in deep caverns and among horrid rocks; as also, that they haunted the places where murders or other deeds of mortal sin had been acted. They appear to have been the genuine northern dwarfs, or Trows, another pronunciation of Trollds, and are considered by the reverend author as something very little better than actual fiends. But it is not only, or even chiefly, to the Gothic race that we must trace the opinions concerning the elves of the middle ages; these, as already hinted, were deeply blended with the attributes which the Celtic tribes had, from the remotest ages, ascribed to their deities of rocks, valleys, and forests. We have already observed, what indeed makes a great feature of their national character, that the power of the imagination is peculiarly active among the Celts, and leads to an enthusiasm concerning national music and dancing, national poetry and song, the departments in which fancy most readily indulges herself. The Irish, the Welsh, the Gael, or Scottish Highlander, all tribes of Celtic descent, assigned to the Men of Peace, Good Neighbours, or by whatever other names they called these sylvan pigmies, more social habits, and a course of existence far more gay, than the sullen and heavy toils of the more saturnine Duergar. Their elves did not avoid the society of men, though they behaved to those who associated with them with caprice, which rendered it dangerous to displease them; and although their gifts were sometimes valuable, they were usually wantonly given and unexpectedly resumed. The employment, the benefits, the amusements of the Fairy court, resembled the aerial people themselves. Their government was always represented as monarchical. A King, more frequently a Queen of Fairies, was acknowledged; and sometimes both held their court together. Their pageants and court entertainments comprehended all that the imagination could conceive of what was, by that age, accounted gallant and splendid. At their processions they paraded more beautiful steeds than those of mere earthly parentage--the hawks and hounds which they employed in their chase were of the first race. At their daily banquets, the board was set forth with a splendour which the proudest kings of the earth dared not aspire to; and the hall of their dancers echoed to the most exquisite music. But when viewed by the eye of a seer the illusion vanished. The young knights and beautiful ladies showed themselves as wrinkled carles and odious hags--their wealth turned into slate-stones--their splendid plate into pieces of clay fantastically twisted--and their victuals, unsavoured by salt (prohibited to them, we are told, because an emblem of eternity), became tasteless and insipid--the stately halls were turned into miserable damp caverns--all the delights of the Elfin Elysium vanished at once. In a word, their pleasures were showy, but totally unsubstantial--their activity unceasing, but fruitless and unavailing--and their condemnation appears to have consisted in the necessity of maintaining the appearance of constant industry or enjoyment, though their toil was fruitless and their pleasures shadowy and unsubstantial. Hence poets have designed them as "_the crew that never rest_." Besides the unceasing and useless bustle in which these spirits seemed to live, they had propensities unfavourable and distressing to mortals. One injury of a very serious nature was supposed to be constantly practised by the fairies against "the human mortals," that of carrying off their children, and breeding them as beings of their race. Unchristened infants were chiefly exposed to this calamity; but adults were also liable to be abstracted from earthly commerce, notwithstanding it was their natural sphere. With respect to the first, it may be easily conceived that the want of the sacred ceremony of introduction into the Christian church rendered them the more obnoxious to the power of those creatures, who, if not to be in all respects considered as fiends, had nevertheless, considering their constant round of idle occupation, little right to rank themselves among good spirits, and were accounted by most divines as belonging to a very different class. An adult, on the other hand, must have been engaged in some action which exposed him to the power of the spirits, and so, as the legal phrase went, "taken in the manner." Sleeping on a fairy mount, within which the Fairy court happened to be held for the time, was a very ready mode of obtaining a pass for Elfland. It was well for the individual if the irate elves were contented, on such occasions, with transporting him through the air to a city at some forty miles' distance, and leaving, perhaps, his hat or bonnet on some steeple between, to mark the direct line of his course. Others, when engaged in some unlawful action, or in the act of giving way to some headlong and sinful passion, exposed themselves also to become inmates of Fairyland. The same belief on these points obtained in Ireland. Glanville, in his "Eighteenth Relation," tells us of the butler of a gentleman, a neighbour of the Earl of Orrery, who was sent to purchase cards. In crossing the fields, he saw a table surrounded by people apparently feasting and making merry. They rose to salute him, and invited him to join in their revel; but a friendly voice from the party whispered in his ear, "Do nothing which this company invite you to." Accordingly, when he refused to join in feasting, the table vanished, and the company began to dance and play on musical instruments; but the butler would not take part in these recreations. They then left off dancing, and betook themselves to work; but neither in this would the mortal join them. He was then left alone for the present; but in spite of the exertions of my Lord Orrery, in spite of two bishops who were his guests at the time, in spite of the celebrated Mr. Greatrix, it was all they could do to prevent the butler from being carried off bodily from amongst them by the fairies, who considered him as their lawful prey. They raised him in the air above the heads of the mortals, who could only run beneath, to break his fall when they pleased to let him go. The spectre which formerly advised the poor man continued to haunt him, and at length discovered himself to be the ghost of an acquaintance who had been dead for seven years. "You know," added he, "I lived a loose life, and ever since have I been hurried up and down in a restless condition, with the company you saw, and shall be till the day of judgment." He added, "that if the butler had acknowledged God in all his ways, he had not suffered so much by their means; he reminded him that he had not prayed to God in the morning before he met with this company in the field, and, moreover, that he was then going on an unlawful business." It is pretended that Lord Orrery confirmed the whole of this story, even to having seen the butler raised into the air by the invisible beings who strove to carry him off. Only he did not bear witness to the passage which seems to call the purchase of cards an unlawful errand.[25] [Footnote 25: "Sadducismus Triumphatus," by Joseph Glanville, p. 131. Edinburgh, 1790.] Individuals, whose lives had been engaged in intrigues of politics or stratagems of war, were sometimes surreptitiously carried off to Fairyland; as Alison Pearson, the sorceress who cured Archbishop Adamson, averred that she had recognised in the Fairy court the celebrated Secretary Lethington and the old Knight of Buccleuch, the one of whom had been the most busy politician, the other one of the most unwearied partisans of Queen Mary, during the reign of that unfortunate queen. Upon the whole, persons carried off by sudden death were usually suspected of having fallen into the hands of the fairies, and unless redeemed from their power, which it was not always safe to attempt, were doomed to conclude their lives with them. We must not omit to state that those who had an intimate communication with these spirits, while they were yet inhabitants of middle earth, were most apt to be seized upon and carried off to Elfland before their death. The reason assigned for this kidnapping of the human race, so peculiar to the elfin people, is said to be that they were under a necessity of paying to the infernal regions a yearly tribute out of their population, which they were willing to defray by delivering up to the prince of these regions the children of the human race, rather than their own. From this it must be inferred, that they have offspring among themselves, as it is said by some authorities, and particularly by Mr. Kirke, the minister of Aberfoyle. He indeed adds that, after a certain length of life, these spirits are subject to the universal lot of mortality--a position, however, which has been controverted, and is scarcely reconcilable to that which holds them amenable to pay a tax to hell, which infers existence as eternal as the fire which is not quenched. The opinions on the subject of the fairy people here expressed, are such as are entertained in the Highlands and some remote quarters of the Lowlands of Scotland. We know, from the lively and entertaining legends published by Mr. Crofton Croker--which, though in most cases told with the wit of the editor and the humour of his country, contain points of curious antiquarian information--that the opinions of the Irish are conformable to the account we have given of the general creed of the Celtic nations respecting elves. If the Irish elves are anywise distinguished from those of Britain, it seems to be by their disposition to divide into factions and fight among themselves--a pugnacity characteristic of the Green Isle. The Welsh fairies, according to John Lewis, barrister-at-law, agree in the same general attributes with those of Ireland and Britain. We must not omit the creed of the Manxmen, since we find, from the ingenious researches of Mr. Waldron, that the Isle of Man, beyond other places in Britain, was a peculiar depository of the fairy traditions, which, on the island being conquered by the Norse, became, in all probability, chequered with those of Scandinavia from a source peculiar and more direct than that by which they reached Scotland or Ireland. Such as it was, the popular system of the Celts easily received the northern admixture of Drows and Duergar, which gave the belief, perhaps, a darker colouring than originally belonged to the British fairyland. It was from the same source also, in all probability, that additional legends were obtained of a gigantic and malignant female, the Hecate of this mythology, who rode on the storm and marshalled the rambling host of wanderers under her grim banner. This hag (in all respects the reverse of the Mab or Titania of the Celtic creed) was called Nicneven in that later system which blended the faith of the Celts and of the Goths on this subject. The great Scottish poet Dunbar has made a spirited description of this Hecate riding at the head of witches and good neighbours (fairies, namely), sorceresses and elves, indifferently, upon the ghostly eve of All-Hallow Mass.[26] In Italy we hear of the hags arraying themselves under the orders of Diana (in her triple character of Hecate, doubtless) and Herodias, who were the joint leaders of their choir. But we return to the more simple fairy belief, as entertained by the Celts before they were conquered by the Saxons. [Footnote 26: See "Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy."] Of these early times we can know little; but it is singular to remark what light the traditions of Scotland throw upon the poetry of the Britons of Cumberland, then called Reged. Merlin Wyllt, or the wild, is mentioned by both; and that renowned wizard, the son of an elf or fairy, with King Arthur, the dubious champion of Britain at that early period, were both said by tradition to have been abstracted by the fairies, and to have vanished without having suffered death, just at the time when it was supposed that the magic of the wizard and the celebrated sword of the monarch, which had done so much to preserve British independence, could no longer avert the impending ruin. It may be conjectured that there was a desire on the part of Arthur or his surviving champions to conceal his having received a mortal wound in the fatal battle of Camlan; and to that we owe the wild and beautiful incident so finely versified by Bishop Percy, in which, in token of his renouncing in future the use of arms, the monarch sends his attendant, sole survivor of the field, to throw his sword Excalibar into the lake hard by. Twice eluding the request, the esquire at last complied, and threw the far-famed weapon into the lonely mere. A hand and arm arose from the water and caught Excalibar by the hilt, flourished it thrice, and then sank into the lake.[27] The astonished messenger returned to his master to tell him the marvels he had seen, but he only saw a boat at a distance push from the land, and heard shrieks of females in agony:-- "And whether the king was there or not He never knew, he never colde For never since that doleful day Was British Arthur seen on molde." [Footnote 27: See "Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry."] The circumstances attending the disappearance of Merlin would probably be found as imaginative as those of Arthur's removal, but they cannot be recovered; and what is singular enough, circumstances which originally belonged to the history of this famous bard, said to be the son of the Demon himself, have been transferred to a later poet, and surely one of scarce inferior name, Thomas of Erceldoune. The legend was supposed to be only preserved among the inhabitants of his native valleys, but a copy as old as the reign of Henry VII. has been recovered. The story is interesting and beautifully told, and, as one of the oldest fairy legends, may well be quoted in this place. Thomas of Erceldoune, in Lauderdale, called the Rhymer, on account of his producing a poetical romance on the subject of Tristrem and Yseult, which is curious as the earliest specimen of English verse known to exist, flourished in the reign of Alexander III. of Scotland. Like other men of talent of the period, Thomas was suspected of magic. He was said also to have the gift of prophecy, which was accounted for in the following peculiar manner, referring entirely to the elfin superstition:--As True Thomas (we give him the epithet by anticipation) lay on Huntly Bank, a place on the descent of the Eildon Hills, which raise their triple crest above the celebrated Monastery of Melrose, he saw a lady so extremely beautiful that he imagined it must be the Virgin Mary herself. Her appointments, however, were rather those of an Amazon or goddess of the woods. Her steed was of the highest beauty and spirit, and at his mane hung thirty silver bells and nine, which made music to the wind as she paced along. Her saddle was of _royal bone_ (ivory), laid over with _orfeverie_--_i.e._, goldsmith's work. Her stirrups, her dress, all corresponded with her extreme beauty and the magnificence of her array. The fair huntress had her bow in her hand, and her arrows at her belt. She led three greyhounds in a leash, and three raches, or hounds of scent, followed her closely. She rejected and disclaimed the homage which Thomas desired to pay to her; so that, passing from one extremity to the other, Thomas became as bold as he had at first been humble. The lady warns him that he must become her slave if he should prosecute his suit towards her in the manner he proposes. Before their interview terminates, the appearance of the beautiful lady is changed into that of the most hideous hag in existence. One side is blighted and wasted, as if by palsy; one eye drops from her head; her colour, as clear as the virgin silver, is now of a dun leaden hue. A witch from the spital or almshouse would have been a goddess in comparison to the late beautiful huntress. Hideous as she was, Thomas's irregular desires had placed him under the control of this hag, and when she bade him take leave of sun, and of the leaf that grew on tree, he felt himself under the necessity of obeying her. A cavern received them, in which, following his frightful guide, he for three days travelled in darkness, sometimes hearing the booming of a distant ocean, sometimes walking through rivers of blood, which crossed their subterranean path. At length they emerged into daylight, in a most beautiful orchard. Thomas, almost fainting for want of food, stretches out his hand towards the goodly fruit which hangs around him, but is forbidden by his conductress, who informs him these are the fatal apples which were the cause of the fall of man. He perceives also that his guide had no sooner entered this mysterious ground, and breathed its magic air, than she was revived in beauty, equipage, and splendour, as fair, or fairer, than he had first seen her on the mountain. She then commands him to lay his head upon her knee, and proceeds to explain to him the character of the country. "Yonder right-hand path," she says, "conveys the spirits of the blessed to Paradise; yon downward and well-worn way leads sinful souls to the place of everlasting punishment; the third road, by yonder dark brake, conducts to the milder place of pain from which prayer and mass may release offenders. But see you yet a fourth road, sweeping along the plain to yonder splendid castle? Yonder is the road to Elfland, to which we are now bound. The lord of the castle is king of the country, and I am his queen. But, Thomas, I would rather be drawn with wild horses, than he should know what hath passed between you and me. Therefore, when we enter yonder castle, observe strict silence, and answer no question that is asked at you, and I will account for your silence by saying I took your speech when I brought you from middle earth." Having thus instructed her lover, they journeyed on to the castle, and entering by the kitchen, found themselves in the midst of such a festive scene as might become the mansion of a great feudal lord or prince. Thirty carcases of deer were lying on the massive kitchen board, under the hands of numerous cooks, who toiled to cut them up and dress them, while the gigantic greyhounds which had taken the spoil lay lapping the blood, and enjoying the sight of the slain game. They came next to the royal hall, where the king received his loving consort without censure or suspicion. Knights and ladies, dancing by threes (reels perhaps), occupied the floor of the hall, and Thomas, the fatigues of his journey from the Eildon hills forgotten, went forward and joined in the revelry. After a period, however, which seemed to him a very short one, the queen spoke with him apart, and bade him prepare to return to his own country. "Now," said the queen, "how long think you that you have been here?" "Certes, fair lady," answered Thomas, "not above these seven days." "You are deceived," answered the queen, "you have been seven _years_ in this castle; and it is full time you were gone. Know, Thomas, that the fiend of hell will come to this castle to-morrow to demand his tribute, and so handsome a man as you will attract his eye. For all the world would I not suffer you to be betrayed to such a fate; therefore up, and let us be going." These terrible news reconciled Thomas to his departure from Elfin land, and the queen was not long in placing him upon Huntly bank, where the birds were singing. She took a tender leave of him, and to ensure his reputation, bestowed on him the tongue which _could not lie_. Thomas in vain objected to this inconvenient and involuntary adhesion to veracity, which would make him, as he thought, unfit for church or for market, for king's court or for lady's bower. But all his remonstrances were disregarded by the lady, and Thomas the Rhymer, whenever the discourse turned on the future, gained the credit of a prophet whether he would or not; for he could say nothing but what was sure to come to pass. It is plain that had Thomas been a legislator instead of a poet, we have here the story of Numa and Egeria. Thomas remained several years in his own tower near Erceldoune, and enjoyed the fame of his predictions, several of which are current among the country people to this day. At length, as the prophet was entertaining the Earl of March in his dwelling, a cry of astonishment arose in the village, on the appearance of a hart and hind,[28] which left the forest and, contrary to their shy nature, came quietly onward, traversing the village towards the dwelling of Thomas. The prophet instantly rose from the board; and, acknowledging the prodigy as the summons of his fate, he accompanied the hart and hind into the forest, and though occasionally seen by individuals to whom he has chosen to show himself, has never again mixed familiarly with mankind. [Footnote 28: This last circumstance seems imitated from a passage in the "Life of Merlin," by Jeffrey of Monmouth. See Ellis's "Ancient Romances," vol. i. p. 73.] Thomas of Erceldoune, during his retirement, has been supposed, from time to time, to be levying forces to take the field in some crisis of his country's fate. The story has often been told of a daring horse-jockey having sold a black horse to a man of venerable and antique appearance, who appointed the remarkable hillock upon Eildon hills, called the Lucken-hare, as the place where, at twelve o'clock at night, he should receive the price. He came, his money was paid in ancient coin, and he was invited by his customer to view his residence. The trader in horses followed his guide in the deepest astonishment through several long ranges of stalls, in each of which a horse stood motionless, while an armed warrior lay equally still at the charger's feet. "All these men," said the wizard in a whisper, "will awaken at the battle of Sheriffmoor." At the extremity of this extraordinary depot hung a sword and a horn, which the prophet pointed out to the horse-dealer as containing the means of dissolving the spell. The man in confusion took the horn, and attempted to wind it. The horses instantly started in their stalls, stamped, and shook their bridles, the men arose and clashed their armour, and the mortal, terrified at the tumult he had excited, dropped the horn from his hand. A voice like that of a giant, louder even than the tumult around, pronounced these words:-- "Woe to the coward that ever he was born, That did not draw the sword before he blew the horn!" A whirlwind expelled the horse-dealer from the cavern, the entrance to which he could never again find. A moral might be perhaps extracted from the legend--namely, that it is best to be armed against danger before bidding it defiance. But it is a circumstance worth notice, that although this edition of the tale is limited to the year 1715, by the very mention of the Sheriffmoor, yet a similar story appears to have been current during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, which is given by Reginald Scot. The narrative is edifying as peculiarly illustrative of the mode of marring a curious tale in telling it, which was one of the virtues professed by Caius when he hired himself to King Lear. Reginald Scot, incredulous on the subject of witchcraft, seems to have given some weight to the belief of those who thought that the spirits of famous men do, after death, take up some particular habitations near cities, towns, and countries, and act as tutelary and guardian spirits to the places which they loved while in the flesh. "But more particularly to illustrate this conjecture," says he, "I could name a person who hath lately appeared thrice since his decease, at least some ghostly being or other that calls itself by the name of such a person who was dead above a hundred years ago, and was in his lifetime accounted as a prophet or predicter by the assistance of sublunary spirits; and now, at his appearance, did also give strange predictions respecting famine and plenty, war and bloodshed, and the end of the world. By the information of the person that had communication with him, the last of his appearances was in the following manner:--"I had been," said he, "to sell a horse at the next market town, but not attaining my price, as I returned home by the way I met this man, who began to be familiar with me, asking what news, and how affairs moved through the country. I answered as I thought fit; withal, I told him of my horse, whom he began to cheapen, and proceeded with me so far that the price was agreed upon. So he turned back with me, and told me that if I would go along with him I should receive my money. On our way we went, I upon my horse, and he on another milk-white beast After much travel I asked him where he dwelt and what his name was. He told me that his dwelling was a mile off, at a place called _Farran_, of which place I had never heard, though I knew all the country round about.[29] He also told me that he himself was that person of the family of Learmonths[30] so much spoken of as a prophet. At which I began to be somewhat fearful, perceiving we were on a road which I never had been on before, which increased my fear and amazement more. Well, on we went till he brought me under ground, I knew not how, into the presence of a beautiful woman, who paid the money without a word speaking. He conducted me out again through a large and long entry, where I saw above six hundred men in armour laid prostrate on the ground as if asleep. At last I found myself in the open field by the help of the moonlight, in the very place where I first met him, and made a shift to get home by three in the morning. But the money I had received was just double of what I esteemed it when the woman paid me, of which at this instant I have several pieces to show, consisting of ninepennies, thirteen pence-halfpennies," &c.[31] [Footnote 29: In this the author is in the same ignorance as his namesake Reginald, though having at least as many opportunities of information.] [Footnote 30: In popular tradition, the name of Thomas the Rhymer was always averred to be Learmonth. though he neither uses it himself, nor is described by his son other than Le Rymour. The Learmonths of Dairsie, in Fife, claimed descent from the prophet.] [Footnote 31: "Discourse of Devils and Spirits appended to the Discovery of Witchcraft," by Reginald Scot, Esq., book ii. chap. 3, sec. 10.] It is a great pity that this horse-dealer, having specimens of the fairy coin, of a quality more permanent than usual, had not favoured us with an account of an impress so valuable to medalists. It is not the less edifying, as we are deprived of the more picturesque parts of the story, to learn that Thomas's payment was as faithful as his prophecies. The beautiful lady who bore the purse must have been undoubtedly the Fairy Queen, whose affection, though, like that of his own heroine Yseult, we cannot term it altogether laudable, seems yet to have borne a faithful and firm character. I have dwelt at some length on the story of Thomas the Rhymer, as the oldest tradition of the kind which has reached us in detail, and as pretending to show the fate of the first Scottish poet, whose existence, and its date, are established both by history and records; and who, if we consider him as writing in the Anglo-Norman language, was certainly one among the earliest of its versifiers. But the legend is still more curious, from its being the first and most distinguished instance of a man alleged to have obtained supernatural knowledge by means of the fairies. Whence or how this singular community derived their more common popular name, we may say has not as yet been very clearly established. It is the opinion of the learned that the Persian word Peri, expressing an unearthly being, of a species very similar, will afford the best derivation, if we suppose it to have reached Europe through the medium of the Arabians, in whose alphabet the letter P does not exist, so that they pronounce the word Feri instead of Peri. Still there is something uncertain in this etymology. We hesitate to ascribe either to the Persians or the Arabians the distinguishing name of an ideal commonwealth, the notion of which they certainly did not contribute to us. Some are, therefore, tempted to suppose that the elves may have obtained their most frequent name from their being _par excellence_ a _fair_ or _comely_ people, a quality which they affected on all occasions; while the superstition of the Scottish was likely enough to give them a name which might propitiate the vanity for which they deemed the race remarkable; just as, in other instances, they called the fays "men of peace," "good neighbours," and by other titles of the like import. It must be owned, at the same time, that the words _fay_ and _fairy_ may have been mere adoptions of the French _fee_ and _feerie_, though these terms, on the other side of the Channel, have reference to a class of spirits corresponding, not to our fairies, but with the far different Fata of the Italians. But this is a question which we willingly leave for the decision of better etymologists than ourselves. LETTER V. Those who dealt in fortune-telling, mystical cures by charms, and the like, often claimed an intercourse with Fairyland--Hudhart or Hudikin--Pitcairn's "Scottish Criminal Trials"--Story of Bessie Dunlop and her Adviser--Her Practice of Medicine--And of Discovery of Theft--Account of her Familiar, Thome Reid--Trial of Alison Pearson--Account of her Familiar, William Sympson--Trial of the Lady Fowlis, and of Hector Munro, her Stepson--Extraordinary species of Charm used by the latter--Confession of John Stewart, a Juggler, of his Intercourse with the Fairies--Trial and Confession of Isobel Gowdie--Use of Elf-arrow Heads--Parish of Aberfoyle--Mr. Kirke, the Minister of Aberfoyle's Work on Fairy Superstitions--He is himself taken to Fairyland--Dr. Grahame's interesting Work, and his Information on Fairy Superstitions--Story of a Female in East Lothian carried off by the Fairies--Another instance from Pennant. To return to Thomas the Rhymer, with an account of whose legend I concluded last letter, it would seem that the example which it afforded of obtaining the gift of prescience, and other supernatural powers, by means of the fairy people, became the common apology of those who attempted to cure diseases, to tell fortunes, to revenge injuries, or to engage in traffic with the invisible world, for the purpose of satisfying their own wishes, curiosity, or revenge, or those of others. Those who practised the petty arts of deception in such mystic cases, being naturally desirous to screen their own impostures, were willing to be supposed to derive from the fairies, or from mortals transported to fairyland the power necessary to effect the displays of art which they pretended to exhibit. A confession of direct communication and league with Satan, though the accused were too frequently compelled by torture to admit and avow such horrors, might, the poor wretches hoped, be avoided by the avowal of a less disgusting intercourse with sublunary spirits, a race which might be described by negatives, being neither angels, devils, nor the souls of deceased men; nor would it, they might flatter themselves, be considered as any criminal alliance, that they held communion with a race not properly hostile to man, and willing, on certain conditions, to be useful and friendly to him. Such an intercourse was certainly far short of the witch's renouncing her salvation, delivering herself personally to the devil, and at once ensuring condemnation in this world, together with the like doom in the next. Accordingly, the credulous, who, in search of health, knowledge, greatness, or moved by any of the numberless causes for which men seek to look into futurity, were anxious to obtain superhuman assistance, as well as the numbers who had it in view to dupe such willing clients, became both cheated and cheaters, alike anxious to establish the possibility of a harmless process of research into futurity, for laudable, or at least innocent objects, as healing diseases and the like; in short, of the existence of white magic, as it was called, in opposition to that black art exclusively and directly derived from intercourse with Satan. Some endeavoured to predict a man's fortune in marriage or his success in life by the aspect of the stars; others pretended to possess spells, by which they could reduce and compel an elementary spirit to enter within a stone, a looking-glass, or some other local place of abode, and confine her there by the power of an especial charm, conjuring her to abide and answer the questions of her master. Of these we shall afterwards say something; but the species of evasion now under our investigation is that of the fanatics or impostors who pretended to draw information from the equivocal spirits called fairies; and the number of instances before us is so great as induces us to believe that the pretence of communicating with Elfland, and not with the actual demon, was the manner in which the persons accused of witchcraft most frequently endeavoured to excuse themselves, or at least to alleviate the charges brought against them of practising sorcery. But the Scottish law did not acquit those who accomplished even praiseworthy actions, such as remarkable cures by mysterious remedies; and the proprietor of a patent medicine who should in those days have attested his having wrought such miracles as we see sometimes advertised, might perhaps have forfeited his life before he established the reputation of his drop, elixir, or pill. Sometimes the soothsayers, who pretended to act on this information from sublunary spirits, soared to higher matters than the practice of physic, and interfered in the fate of nations. When James I. was murdered at Perth in 1437, a Highland woman prophesied the course and purpose of the conspiracy, and had she been listened to, it might have been disconcerted. Being asked her source of knowledge, she answered Hudhart had told her; which might either be the same with Hudkin, a Dutch spirit somewhat similar to Friar Rush or Robin Goodfellow,[32] or with the red-capped demon so powerful in the case of Lord Soulis, and other wizards, to whom the Scots assigned rather more serious influence. [Footnote 32: Hudkin is a very familiar devil, who will do nobody hurt, except he receive injury; but he cannot abide that, nor yet be mocked. He talketh with men friendly, sometimes visibly, sometimes invisibly. There go as many tales upon this Hudkin in some parts of Germany as there did in England on Robin Goodfellow.--"Discourse concerning Devils," annexed to "The Discovery of Witchcraft," by Reginald Scot, book i. chap. 21.] The most special account which I have found of the intercourse between Fairyland and a female professing to have some influence in that court, combined with a strong desire to be useful to the distressed of both sexes, occurs in the early part of a work to which I have been exceedingly obliged in the present and other publications.[33] The details of the evidence, which consists chiefly of the unfortunate woman's own confession, are more full than usual, and comprehend some curious particulars. To spare technical repetitions, I must endeavour to select the principal facts in evidence in detail, so far as they bear upon the present subject. [Footnote 33: The curious collection of trials, from "The Criminal Records of Scotland," now in the course of publication, by Robert Pitcairn, Esq., affords so singular a picture of the manners and habits of our ancestors, while yet a semibarbarous people, that it is equally worth the attention of the historian, the antiquary, the philosopher, and the poet.] On the 8th November, 1576, Elizabeth or Bessie Dunlop, spouse to Andro Jak, in Lyne, in the Barony of Dalry, Ayrshire, was accused of sorcery and witchcraft and abuse of the people. Her answers to the interrogatories of the judges or prosecutors ran thus: It being required of her by what art she could tell of lost goods or prophesy the event of illness, she replied that of herself she had no knowledge or science of such matters, but that when questions were asked at her concerning such matters, she was in the habit of applying to one Thome Reid, who died at the battle of Pinkie (10th September, 1547), as he himself affirmed, and who resolved her any questions which she asked at him. This person she described as a respectable elderly-looking man, grey-bearded, and wearing a grey coat, with Lombard sleeves of the auld fashion. A pair of grey breeches and white stockings gartered above the knee, a black bonnet on his head, close behind and plain before, with silken laces drawn through the lips thereof, and a white wand in his hand, completed the description of what we may suppose a respectable-looking man of the province and period. Being demanded concerning her first interview with this mysterious Thome Reid, she gave rather an affecting account of the disasters with which she was then afflicted, and a sense of which perhaps aided to conjure up the imaginary counsellor. She was walking between her own house and the yard of Monkcastle, driving her cows to the common pasture, and making heavy moan with herself, weeping bitterly for her cow that was dead, her husband and child that were sick of the land-ill (some contagious sickness of the time), while she herself was in a very infirm state, having lately borne a child. On this occasion she met Thome Reid for the first time, who saluted her courteously, which she returned. "Sancta Maria, Bessie!" said the apparition, "why must thou make such dole and weeping for any earthly thing?" "Have I not reason for great sorrow," said she, "since our property is going to destruction, my husband is on the point of death, my baby will not live, and I am myself at a weak point? Have I not cause to have a sore heart?" "Bessie," answered the spirit, "thou hast displeased God in asking something that thou should not, and I counsel you to amend your fault. I tell thee, thy child shall die ere thou get home; thy two sheep shall also die; but thy husband shall recover, and be as well and feir as ever he was." The good woman was something comforted to hear that her husband was to be spared in such her general calamity, but was rather alarmed to see her ghostly counsellor pass from her and disappear through a hole in the garden wall, seemingly too narrow to admit of any living person passing through it. Another time he met her at the Thorn of Dawmstarnik, and showed his ultimate purpose by offering her plenty of every thing if she would but deny Christendom and the faith she took at the font-stone. She answered, that rather than do that she would be torn at horses' heels, but that she would be conformable to his advice in less matters. He parted with her in some displeasure. Shortly afterwards he appeared in her own house about noon, which was at the time occupied by her husband and three tailors. But neither Andrew Jak nor the three tailors were sensible of the presence of the phantom warrior who was slain at Pinkie; so that, without attracting their observation, he led out the good-wife to the end of the house near the kiln. Here he showed her a company of eight women and four men. The women were busked in their plaids, and very seemly. The strangers saluted her, and said, "Welcome, Bessie; wilt thou go with us?" But Bessie was silent, as Thome Reid had previously recommended. After this she saw their lips move, but did not understand what they said; and in a short time they removed from thence with a hideous ugly howling sound, like that of a hurricane. Thome Reid then acquainted her that these were the good wights (fairies) dwelling in the court of Elfland, who came to invite her to go thither with them. Bessie answered that, before she went that road, it would require some consideration. Thome answered, "Seest thou not me both meat-worth, clothes-worth, and well enough in person?" and engaged she should be easier than ever she was. But she replied, she dwelt with her husband and children, and would not leave them; to which Thome Reid replied, in very ill-humour, that if such were her sentiments, she would get little good of him. Although they thus disagreed on the principal object of Thome Reid's visits, Bessie Dunlop affirmed he continued to come to her frequently, and assist her with his counsel; and that if any one consulted her about the ailments of human beings or of cattle, or the recovery of things lost and stolen, she was, by the advice of Thome Reid, always able to answer the querists. She was also taught by her (literally ghostly) adviser how to watch the operation of the ointments he gave her, and to presage from them the recovery or death of the patient. She said Thome gave her herbs with his own hand, with which she cured John Jack's bairn and Wilson's of the Townhead. She also was helpful to a waiting-woman of the young Lady Stanlie, daughter of the Lady Johnstone, whose disease, according to the opinion of the infallible Thome Reid, was "a cauld blood that came about her heart," and frequently caused her to swoon away. For this Thome mixed a remedy as generous as the balm of Gilead itself. It was composed of the most potent ale, concocted with spices and a little white sugar, to be drunk every morning before taking food. For these prescriptions Bessie Dunlop's fee was a peck of meal and some cheese. The young woman recovered. But the poor old Lady Kilbowie could get no help for her leg, which had been crooked for years; for Thome Reid said the marrow of the limb was perished and the blood benumbed, so that she would never recover, and if she sought further assistance, it would be the worse for her. These opinions indicate common sense and prudence at least, whether we consider them as originating with the _umquhile_ Thome Reid, or with the culprit whom he patronized. The judgments given in the case of stolen goods were also well chosen; for though they seldom led to recovering the property, they generally alleged such satisfactory reasons for its not being found as effectually to cover the credit of the prophetess. Thus Hugh Scott's cloak could not be returned, because the thieves had gained time to make it into a kirtle. James Jamieson and James Baird would, by her advice, have recovered their plough-irons, which had been stolen, had it not been the will of fate that William Dougal, sheriff's officer, one of the parties searching for them, should accept a bribe of three pounds not to find them. In short, although she lost a lace which Thome Reid gave her out of his own hand, which, tied round women in childbirth, had the power of helping their delivery, Bessy Dunlop's profession of a wise woman seems to have flourished indifferently well till it drew the evil eye of the law upon her. More minutely pressed upon the subject of her familiar, she said she had never known him while among the living, but was aware that the person so calling himself was one who had, in his lifetime, actually been known in middle earth as Thome Reid, officer to the Laird of Blair, and who died at Pinkie. Of this she was made certain, because he sent her on errands to his son, who had succeeded in his office, and to others his relatives, whom he named, and commanded them to amend certain trespasses which he had done while alive, furnishing her with sure tokens by which they should know that it was he who had sent her. One of these errands was somewhat remarkable. She was to remind a neighbour of some particular which she was to recall to his memory by the token that Thome Reid and he had set out together to go to the battle which took place on the Black Saturday; that the person to whom the message was sent was inclined rather to move in a different direction, but that Thome Reid heartened him to pursue his journey, and brought him to the Kirk of Dalry, where he bought a parcel of figs, and made a present of them to his companion, tying them in his handkerchief; after which they kept company till they came to the field upon the fatal Black Saturday, as the battle of Pinkie was long called. Of Thome's other habits, she said that he always behaved with the strictest propriety, only that he pressed her to go to Elfland with him, and took hold of her apron as if to pull her along. Again, she said she had seen him in public places, both in the churchyard at Dalry and on the street of Edinburgh, where he walked about among other people, and handled goods that were exposed to sale, without attracting any notice. She herself did not then speak to him, for it was his command that, upon such occasions, she should never address him unless he spoke first to her. In his theological opinions, Mr. Reid appeared to lean to the Church of Rome, which, indeed, was most indulgent to the fairy folk. He said that the _new law, i.e.,_ the Reformation, was not good, and that the old faith should return again, but not exactly as it had been before. Being questioned why this visionary sage attached himself to her more than to others, the accused person replied, that when she was confined in childbirth of one of her boys, a stout woman came into her hut, and sat down on a bench by her bed, like a mere earthly gossip; that she demanded a drink, and was accommodated accordingly; and thereafter told the invalid that the child should die, but that her husband, who was then ailing, should recover. This visit seems to have been previous to her meeting Thome Reid near Monkcastle garden, for that worthy explained to her that her stout visitant was Queen of Fairies, and that he had since attended her by the express command of that lady, his queen and mistress. This reminds us of the extreme doting attachment which the Queen of the Fairies is represented to have taken for Dapper in "The Alchemist." Thome Reid attended her, it would seem, on being summoned thrice, and appeared to her very often within four years. He often requested her to go with him on his return to Fairyland, and when she refused, he shook his head, and said she would repent it. If the delicacy of the reader's imagination be a little hurt at imagining the elegant Titania in the disguise of a _stout_ woman, a heavy burden for a clumsy bench, drinking what Christopher Sly would have called very sufficient small-beer with a peasant's wife, the following description of the fairy host may come more near the idea he has formed of that invisible company:--Bessie Dunlop declared that as she went to tether her nag by the side of Restalrig Loch (Lochend, near the eastern port of Edinburgh), she heard a tremendous sound of a body of riders rushing past her with such a noise as if heaven and earth would come together; that the sound swept past her and seemed to rush into the lake with a hideous rumbling noise. All this while she saw nothing; but Thome Reid showed her that the noise was occasioned by the wights, who were performing one of their cavalcades upon earth. The intervention of Thome Reid as a partner in her trade of petty sorcery did not avail poor Bessie Dunlop, although his affection to her was apparently entirely platonic--the greatest familiarity on which he ventured was taking hold of her gown as he pressed her to go with him to Elfland. Neither did it avail her that the petty sorcery which she practised was directed to venial or even beneficial purposes. The sad words on the margin of the record, "Convict and burnt," sufficiently express the tragic conclusion of a curious tale. Alison Pearson, in Byrehill, was, 28th May, 1588, tried for invocation of the spirits of the devil, specially in the vision of one Mr. William Sympson, her cousin and her mother's brother's son, who she affirmed was a great scholar and doctor of medicine, dealing with charms and abusing the ignorant people. Against this poor woman her own confession, as in the case of Bessie Dunlop, was the principal evidence. As Bessie Dunlop had Thome Reid, Alison Pearson had also a familiar in the court of Elfland. This was her relative, William Sympson aforesaid, born in Stirling, whose father was king's smith in that town. William had been taken away, she said, by a man of Egypt (a Gipsy), who carried him to Egypt along with him; that he remained there twelve years, and that his father died in the meantime for opening a priest's book and looking upon it. She declared that she had renewed her acquaintance with her kinsman so soon as he returned. She further confessed that one day as she passed through Grange Muir she lay down in a fit of sickness, and that a green man came to her, and said if she would be faithful he might do her good. In reply she charged him, in the name of God and by the law he lived upon, if he came for her soul's good to tell his errand. On this the green man departed. But he afterwards appeared to her with many men and women with him, and against her will she was obliged to pass with them farther than she could tell, with piping, mirth, and good cheer; also that she accompanied them into Lothian, where she saw puncheons of wine with tasses or drinking-cups. She declared that when she told of these things she was sorely tormented, and received a blow that took away the power of her left side, and left on it an ugly mark which had no feeling. She also confessed that she had seen before sunrise the good neighbours make their salves with pans and fires. Sometimes, she said, they came in such fearful forms as frightened her very much. At other times they spoke her fair, and promised her that she should never want if faithful, but if she told of them and their doings, they threatened to martyr her. She also boasted of her favour with the Queen of Elfland and the good friends she had at that court, notwithstanding that she was sometimes in disgrace there, and had not seen the queen for seven years. She said William Sympson is with the fairies, and that he lets her know when they are coming; and that he taught her what remedies to use, and how to apply them. She declared that when a whirlwind blew the fairies were commonly there, and that her cousin Sympson confessed that every year the tithe of them were taken away to hell. The celebrated Patrick Adamson, an excellent divine and accomplished scholar, created by James VI. Archbishop of St. Andrews, swallowed the prescriptions of this poor hypochondriac with good faith and will, eating a stewed fowl, and drinking out at two draughts a quart of claret, medicated with the drugs she recommended. According to the belief of the time, this Alison Pearson transferred the bishop's indisposition from himself to a white palfrey, which died in consequence. There is a very severe libel on him for this and other things unbecoming his order, with which he was charged, and from which we learn that Lethington and Buccleuch were seen by Dame Pearson in the Fairyland.[34] This poor woman's kinsman, Sympson, did not give better shelter to her than Thome Reid had done to her predecessor. The margin of the court-book again bears the melancholy and brief record, "_Convicta et combusta_." [Footnote 34: See "Scottish Poems," edited by John G. Dalzell, p. 321.] The two poor women last mentioned are the more to be pitied as, whether enthusiasts or impostors, they practised their supposed art exclusively for the advantage of mankind. The following extraordinary detail involves persons of far higher quality, and who sought to familiars for more baneful purposes. Katherine Munro, Lady Fowlis, by birth Katherine Ross of Balnagowan, of high rank, both by her own family and that of her husband, who was the fifteenth Baron of Fowlis, and chief of the warlike clan of Munro, had a stepmother's quarrel with Robert Munro, eldest son of her husband, which she gratified by forming a scheme for compassing his death by unlawful arts. Her proposed advantage in this was, that the widow of Robert, when he was thus removed, should marry with her brother, George Ross of Balnagowan; and for this purpose, her sister-in-law, the present Lady Balnagowan, was also to be removed. Lady Fowlis, if the indictment had a syllable of truth, carried on her practices with the least possible disguise. She assembled persons of the lowest order, stamped with an infamous celebrity as witches; and, besides making pictures or models in clay, by which they hoped to bewitch Robert Munro and Lady Balnagowan, they brewed, upon one occasion, poison so strong that a page tasting of it immediately took sickness. Another earthen jar (Scotticè _pig_) of the same deleterious liquor was prepared by the Lady Fowlis, and sent with her own nurse for the purpose of administering it to Robert Munro. The messenger having stumbled in the dark, broke the jar, and a rank grass grew on the spot where it fell, which sheep and cattle abhorred to touch; but the nurse, having less sense than the brute beasts, and tasting of the liquor which had been spilled, presently died. What is more to our present purpose, Lady Fowlis made use of the artillery of Elfland in order to destroy her stepson and sister-in-law. Laskie Loncart, one of the assistant hags, produced two of what the common people call elf-arrow heads, being, in fact, the points of flint used for arming the ends of arrow-shafts in the most ancient times, but accounted by the superstitious the weapons by which the fairies were wont to destroy both man and beast. The pictures of the intended victims were then set up at the north end of the apartment, and Christian Ross Malcolmson, an assistant hag, shot two shafts at the image of Lady Balnagowan, and three against the picture of Robert Munro, by which shots they were broken, and Lady Fowlis commanded new figures to be modelled. Many similar acts of witchcraft and of preparing poisons were alleged against Lady Fowlis. Her son-in-law, Hector Munro, one of his stepmother's prosecutors, was, for reasons of his own, active in a similar conspiracy against the life of his own brother. The rites that he practised were of an uncouth, barbarous, and unusual nature. Hector, being taken ill, consulted on his case some of the witches or soothsayers, to whom this family appears to have been partial. The answer was unanimous that he must die unless the principal man of his blood should suffer death in his stead. It was agreed that the vicarious substitute for Hector must mean George Munro, brother to him by the half-blood (the son of the Katharine Lady Fowlis before commemorated). Hector sent at least seven messengers for this young man, refusing to receive any of his other friends till he saw the substitute whom he destined to take his place in the grave. When George at length arrived, Hector, by advice of a notorious witch, called Marion MacIngarach, and of his own foster-mother, Christian Neil Dalyell, received him with peculiar coldness and restraint. He did not speak for the space of an hour, till his brother broke silence and asked, "How he did?" Hector replied, "That he was the better George had come to visit him," and relapsed into silence, which seemed singular when compared with the anxiety he had displayed to see his brother; but it was, it seems, a necessary part of the spell. After midnight the sorceress Marion MacIngarach, the chief priestess or Nicneven of the company, went forth with her accomplices, carrying spades with them. They then proceeded to dig a grave not far from the seaside, upon a piece of land which formed the boundary betwixt two proprietors. The grave was made as nearly as possible to the size of their patient Hector Munro, the earth dug out of the grave being laid aside for the time. After ascertaining that the operation of the charm on George Munro, the destined victim, should be suspended for a time, to avoid suspicion, the conspirators proceeded to work their spell in a singular, impressive, and, I believe, unique manner. The time being January, 1588, the patient, Hector Munro, was borne forth in a pair of blankets, accompanied with all who were entrusted with the secret, who were warned to be strictly silent till the chief sorceress should have received her information from the angel whom they served. Hector Munro was carried to his grave and laid therein, the earth being filled in on him, and the grave secured with stakes as at a real funeral. Marion MacIngarach, the Hecate of the night, then sat down by the grave, while Christian Neil Dalyell, the foster-mother, ran the breadth of about nine ridges distant, leading a boy in her hand, and, coming again to the grave where Hector Munro was interred alive, demanded of the witch which victim she would choose, who replied that she chose Hector to live and George to die in his stead. This form of incantation was thrice repeated ere Mr. Hector was removed from his chilling bed in a January grave and carried home, all remaining mute as before. The consequence of a process which seems ill-adapted to produce the former effect was that Hector Munro recovered, and after the intervention of twelve months George Munro, his brother, died. Hector took the principal witch into high favour, made her keeper of his sheep, and evaded, it is said, to present her to trial when charged at Aberdeen to produce her. Though one or two inferior persons suffered death on account of the sorceries practised in the house of Fowlis, the Lady Katharine and her stepson Hector had both the unusual good fortune to be found not guilty. Mr. Pitcairn remarks that the juries, being composed of subordinate persons not suitable to the rank or family of the person tried, has all the appearance of having been packed on purpose for acquittal. It might also, in some interval of good sense, creep into the heads of Hector Munro's assize that the enchantment being performed in January, 1588, and the deceased being only taken ill of his fatal disease in April, 1590, the distance between the events might seem too great to admit the former being regarded as the cause of the latter.[35] [Footnote 35: Pitcairn's "Trials," vol. i. pp. 191-201.] Another instance of the skill of a sorcerer being traced to the instructions of the elves is found in the confession of John Stewart, called a vagabond, but professing skill in palmistry and jugglery, and accused of having assisted Margaret Barclay, or Dein, to sink or cast away a vessel belonging to her own good brother. It being demanded of him by what means he professed himself to have knowledge of things to come, the said John confessed that the space of twenty-six years ago, he being travelling on All-Hallow Even night, between the towns of Monygoif (so spelled) and Clary, in Galway, he met with the King of the Fairies and his company, and that the King of the Fairies gave him a stroke with a white rod over the forehead, which took from him the power of speech and the use of one eye, which he wanted for the space of three years. He declared that the use of speech and eyesight was restored to him by the King of Fairies and his company, on an Hallowe'en night, at the town of Dublin, in Ireland, and that since that time he had joined these people every Saturday at seven o'clock, and remained with them all the night; also, that they met every Hallow-tide, sometimes on Lanark Hill (Tintock, perhaps), sometimes on Kilmaurs Hill, and that he was then taught by them. He pointed out the spot of his forehead on which, he said, the King of the Fairies struck him with a white rod, whereupon the prisoner, being blindfolded, they pricked the spot with a large pin, whereof he expressed no sense or feeling. He made the usual declaration, that he had seen many persons at the Court of Fairy, whose names he rehearsed particularly, and declared that all such persons as are taken away by sudden death go with the King of Elfland. With this man's evidence we have at present no more to do, though we may revert to the execrable proceedings which then took place against this miserable juggler and the poor women who were accused of the same crime. At present it is quoted as another instance of a fortune-teller referring to Elfland as the source of his knowledge. At Auldearne, a parish and burgh of barony in the county of Nairne, the epidemic terror of witches seems to have gone very far. The confession of a woman called Isobel Gowdie, of date April, 1662, implicates, as usual, the Court of Fairy, and blends the operations of witchcraft with the facilities afforded by the fairies. These need be the less insisted upon in this place, as the arch-fiend, and not the elves, had the immediate agency in the abominations which she narrates. Yet she had been, she said, in the Dounie Hills, and got meat there from the Queen of Fairies more than she could eat. She added, that the queen is bravely clothed in white linen and in white and brown cloth, that the King of Fairy is a brave man; and there were elf-bulls roaring and _skoilling_ at the entrance of their palace, which frightened her much. On another occasion this frank penitent confesses her presence at a rendezvous of witches, Lammas, 1659, where, after they had rambled through the country in different shapes--of cats, hares, and the like--eating, drinking, and wasting the goods of their neighbours into whose houses they could penetrate, they at length came to the dounie Hills, where the mountain opened to receive them, and they entered a fair big room, as bright as day. At the entrance ramped and roared the large fairy bulls, which always alarmed Isobel Gowdie. These animals are probably the water-bulls, famous both in Scottish and Irish tradition, which are not supposed to be themselves altogether _canny_ or safe to have concern with. In their caverns the fairies manufactured those elf-arrow heads with which the witches and they wrought so much evil. The elves and the arch-fiend laboured jointly at this task, the former forming and sharpening the dart from the rough flint, and the latter perfecting and finishing (or, as it is called, _dighting_) it. Then came the sport of the meeting. The witches bestrode either corn-straws, bean-stalks, or rushes, and calling, "Horse and Hattock, in the Devil's name!" which is the elfin signal for mounting, they flew wherever they listed. If the little whirlwind which accompanies their transportation passed any mortal who neglected to bless himself, all such fell under the witches' power, and they acquired the right of shooting at him. The penitent prisoner gives the names of many whom she and her sisters had so slain, the death for which she was most sorry being that of William Brown, in the Milntown of Mains. A shaft was also aimed at the Reverend Harrie Forbes, a minister who was present at the examination of Isobel, the confessing party. The arrow fell short, and the witch would have taken aim again, but her master forbade her, saying the reverend gentleman's life was not subject to their power. To this strange and very particular confession we shall have occasion to recur when witchcraft is the more immediate subject. What is above narrated marks the manner in which the belief in that crime was blended with the fairy superstition. To proceed to more modern instances of persons supposed to have fallen under the power of the fairy race, we must not forget the Reverend Robert Kirke, minister of the Gospel, the first translator of the Psalms into Gaelic verse. He was, in the end of the seventeenth century, successively minister of the Highland parishes of Balquidder and Aberfoyle, lying in the most romantic district of Perthshire, and within the Highland line. These beautiful and wild regions, comprehending so many lakes, rocks, sequestered valleys, and dim copsewoods, are not even yet quite abandoned by the fairies, who have resolutely maintained secure footing in a region so well suited for their residence. Indeed, so much was this the case formerly, that Mr. Kirke, while in his latter charge of Aberfoyle, found materials for collecting and compiling his Essay on the "Subterranean and for the most part Invisible People heretofore going under the name of Elves, Fawnes, and Fairies, or the like."[36] In this discourse, the author, "with undoubting mind," describes the fairy race as a sort of astral spirits, of a kind betwixt humanity and angels--says, that they have children, nurses, marriages, deaths, and burials, like mortals in appearance; that, in some respect, they represent mortal men, and that individual apparitions, or double-men, are found among them, corresponding with mortals existing on earth. Mr. Kirke accuses them of stealing the milk from the cows, and of carrying away, what is more material, the women in pregnancy, and new-born children from their nurses. The remedy is easy in both cases. The milk cannot be stolen if the mouth of the calf, before he is permitted to suck, be rubbed with a certain balsam, very easily come by; and the woman in travail is safe if a piece of cold iron is put into the bed. Mr. Kirke accounts for this by informing us that the great northern mines of iron, lying adjacent to the place of eternal punishment, have a savour odious to these "fascinating creatures." They have, says the reverend author, what one would not expect, many light toyish books (novels and plays, doubtless), others on Rosycrucian subjects, and of an abstruse mystical character; but they have no Bibles or works of devotion. The essayist fails not to mention the elf-arrow heads, which have something of the subtlety of thunderbolts, and can mortally wound the vital parts without breaking the skin. These wounds, he says, he has himself observed in beasts, and felt the fatal lacerations which he could not see. [Footnote 36: The title continues:--"Among the Low Country Scots, as they are described by those who have the second sight, and now, to occasion farther enquiry, collected and compared by a circumspect enquirer residing among the Scottish-Irish (_i.e._, the Gael, or Highlanders) in Scotland." It was printed with the author's name in 1691, and reprinted, Edinburgh, 1815, for Longman & Co.] It was by no means to be supposed that the elves, so jealous and irritable a race as to be incensed against those who spoke of them under their proper names, should be less than mortally offended at the temerity of the reverend author, who had pryed so deeply into their mysteries, for the purpose of giving them to the public. Although, therefore, the learned divine's monument, with his name duly inscribed, is to be seen at the east end of the churchyard at Aberfoyle, yet those acquainted with his real history do not believe that he enjoys the natural repose of the tomb. His successor, the Rev. Dr. Grahame, has informed us of the general belief that, as Mr. Kirke was walking one evening in his night-gown upon a _Dun-shi,_ or fairy mount, in the vicinity of the manse or parsonage, behold! he sunk down in what seemed to be a fit of apoplexy, which the unenlightened took for death, while the more understanding knew it to be a swoon produced by the supernatural influence of the people whose precincts he had violated. After the ceremony of a seeming funeral, the form of the Rev. Robert Kirke appeared to a relation, and commanded him to go to Grahame of Duchray, ancestor of the present General Graham Stirling. "Say to Duchray, who is my cousin as well as your own, that I am not dead, but a captive in Fairyland, and only one chance remains for my liberation. When the posthumous child, of which my wife has been delivered since my disappearance, shall be brought to baptism, I will appear in the room, when, if Duchray shall throw over my head the knife or dirk which he holds in his hand, I may be restored to society; but if this opportunity is neglected, I am lost for ever." Duchray was apprised of what was to be done. The ceremony took place, and the apparition of Mr. Kirke was visibly seen while they were seated at table; but Grahame of Duchray, in his astonishment, failed to perform the ceremony enjoined, and it is to be feared that Mr. Kirke still "drees his weird in Fairyland," the Elfin state declaring to him, as the Ocean to poor Falconer, who perished at sea after having written his popular poem of "The Shipwreck"-- "Thou hast proclaimed our power--be thou our prey!" Upon this subject the reader may consult a very entertaining little volume, called "Sketches of Perthshire,"[37] by the Rev. Dr. Grahame of Aberfoyle. The terrible visitation of fairy vengeance which has lighted upon Mr. Kirke has not intimidated his successor, an excellent man and good antiquary, from affording us some curious information on fairy superstition. He tells us that these capricious elves are chiefly dangerous on a Friday, when, as the day of the Crucifixion, evil spirits have most power, and mentions their displeasure at any one who assumes their accustomed livery of green, a colour fatal to several families in Scotland, to the whole race of the gallant Grahames in particular; insomuch that we have heard that in battle a Grahame is generally shot through the green check of his plaid; moreover, that a veteran sportsman of the name, having come by a bad fall, he thought it sufficient to account for it, that he had a piece of green whip-cord to complete the lash of his hunting-whip. I remember, also, that my late amiable friend, James Grahame, author of "The Sabbath," would not break through this ancient prejudice of his clan, but had his library table covered with blue or black cloth, rather than use the fated colour commonly employed on such occasions. [Footnote 37: Edinburgh, 1812.] To return from the Perthshire fairies, I may quote a story of a nature somewhat similar to that of Mas Robert Kirke. The life of the excellent person who told it was, for the benefit of her friends and the poor, protracted to an unusual duration; so I conceive that this adventure, which took place in her childhood, might happen before the middle of last century. She was residing with some relations near the small seaport town of North Berwick, when the place and its vicinity were alarmed by the following story:-- An industrious man, a weaver in the little town, was married to a beautiful woman, who, after bearing two or three children, was so unfortunate as to die during the birth of a fourth child. The infant was saved, but the mother had expired in convulsions; and as she was much disfigured after death, it became an opinion among her gossips that, from some neglect of those who ought to have watched the sick woman, she must have been carried off by the elves, and this ghastly corpse substituted in the place of the body. The widower paid little attention to these rumours, and, after bitterly lamenting his wife for a year of mourning, began to think on the prudence of forming a new marriage, which, to a poor artisan with so young a family, and without the assistance of a housewife, was almost a matter of necessity. He readily found a neighbour with whose good looks he was satisfied, whilst her character for temper seemed to warrant her good usage of his children. He proposed himself and was accepted, and carried the names of the parties to the clergyman (called, I believe, Mr. Matthew Reid) for the due proclamation of banns. As the man had really loved his late partner, it is likely that this proposed decisive alteration of his condition brought back many reflections concerning the period of their union, and with these recalled the extraordinary rumours which were afloat at the time of her decease, so that the whole forced upon him the following lively dream:--As he lay in his bed, awake as he thought, he beheld, at the ghostly hour of midnight, the figure of a female dressed in white, who entered his hut, stood by the side of his bed, and appeared to him the very likeness of his late wife. He conjured her to speak, and with astonishment heard her say, like the minister of Aberfoyle, that she was not dead, but the unwilling captive of the Good Neighbours. Like Mr. Kirke, too, she told him that if all the love which he once had for her was not entirely gone, an opportunity still remained of recovering her, or _winning her back_, as it was usually termed, from the comfortless realms of Elfland. She charged him on a certain day of the ensuing week that he should convene the most respectable housekeepers in the town, with the clergyman at their head, and should disinter the coffin in which she was supposed to have been buried. "The clergyman is to recite certain prayers, upon which," said the apparition, "I will start from the coffin and fly with great speed round the church, and you must have the fleetest runner of the parish (naming a man famed for swiftness) to pursue me, and such a one, the smith, renowned for his strength, to hold me fast after I am overtaken; and in that case I shall, by the prayers of the church, and the efforts of my loving husband and neighbours, again recover my station in human society." In the morning the poor widower was distressed with the recollection of his dream, but, ashamed and puzzled, took no measures in consequence. A second night, as is not very surprising, the visitation was again repeated. On the third night she appeared with a sorrowful and displeased countenance, upbraided him with want of love and affection, and conjured him, for the last time, to attend to her instructions, which, if he now neglected, she would never have power to visit earth or communicate with him again. In order to convince him there was no delusion, he "saw in his dream" that she took up the nursling at whose birth she had died, and gave it suck; she spilled also a drop or two of her milk on the poor man's bed-clothes, as if to assure him of the reality of the vision. The next morning the terrified widower carried a statement of his perplexity to Mr. Matthew Reid, the clergyman. This reverend person, besides being an excellent divine in other respects, was at the same time a man of sagacity, who understood the human passions. He did not attempt to combat the reality of the vision which had thrown his parishioner into this tribulation, but he contended it could be only an illusion of the devil. He explained to the widower that no created being could have the right or power to imprison or detain the soul of a Christian--conjured him not to believe that his wife was otherwise disposed of than according to God's pleasure--assured him that Protestant doctrine utterly denies the existence of any middle state in the world to come--and explained to him that he, as a clergyman of the Church of Scotland, neither could nor dared authorize opening graves or using the intervention of prayer to sanction rites of a suspicious character. The poor man, confounded and perplexed by various feelings, asked his pastor what he should do. "I will give you my best advice," said the clergyman. "Get your new bride's consent to be married to-morrow, or to-day, if you can; I will take it on me to dispense with the rest of the banns, or proclaim them three times in one day. You will have a new wife, and, if you think of the former, it will be only as of one from whom death has separated you, and for whom you may have thoughts of affection and sorrow, but as a saint in Heaven, and not as a prisoner in Elfland." The advice was taken, and the perplexed widower had no more visitations from his former spouse. An instance, perhaps the latest which has been made public, of communication with the Restless People--(a more proper epithet than that of _Daoine Shi_, or Men of Peace, as they are called in Gaelic)--came under Pennant's notice so late as during that observant traveller's tour in 1769. Being perhaps the latest news from the invisible commonwealth, we give the tourist's own words. "A poor visionary who had been working in his cabbage-garden (in Breadalbane) imagined that he was raised suddenly up into the air, and conveyed over a wall into an adjacent corn-field; that he found himself surrounded by a crowd of men and women, many of whom he knew to have been dead for some years, and who appeared to him skimming over the tops of the unbending corn, and mingling together like bees going to hive; that they spoke an unknown language, and with a hollow sound; that they very roughly pushed him to and fro, but on his uttering the name of God all vanished, but a female sprite, who, seizing him by the shoulder, obliged him to promise an assignation at that very hour that day seven-night; that he then found his hair was all tied in double knots (well known by the name of elf-locks), and that he had almost lost his speech; that he kept his word with the spectre, whom he soon saw floating through the air towards him; that he spoke to her, but she told him she was at that time in too much haste to attend to him, but bid him go away and no harm should befall him, and so the affair rested when I left the country. But it is incredible the mischief these _ægri somnia_ did in the neighbourhood. The friends and neighbours of the deceased, whom the old dreamer had named, were in the utmost anxiety at finding them in such bad company in the other world; the almost extinct belief of the old idle tales began to gain ground, and the good minister will have many a weary discourse and exhortation before he can eradicate the absurd ideas this idle story has revived."[38] [Footnote 38: Pennant's "Tour in Scotland," vol. i. p. 110.] It is scarcely necessary to add that this comparatively recent tale is just the counterpart of the story of Bessie Dunlop, Alison Pearson, and of the Irish butler who was so nearly carried off, all of whom found in Elfland some friend, formerly of middle earth, who attached themselves to the child of humanity, and who endeavoured to protect a fellow-mortal against their less philanthropic companions. These instances may tend to show how the fairy superstition, which, in its general sense of worshipping the _Dii Campestres_, was much the older of the two, came to bear upon and have connexion with that horrid belief in witchcraft which cost so many innocent persons and crazy impostors their lives for the supposed commission of impossible crimes. In the next chapter I propose to trace how the general disbelief in the fairy creed began to take place, and gradually brought into discredit the supposed feats of witchcraft, which afforded pretext for such cruel practical consequences. LETTER VI. Immediate Effect of Christianity on Articles of Popular Superstition--Chaucer's Account of the Roman Catholic Priests banishing the Fairies--Bishop Corbett imputes the same Effect to the Reformation--His Verses on that Subject--His Iter Septentrionale--Robin Goodfellow and other Superstitions mentioned by Reginald Scot--Character of the English Fairies--The Tradition had become obsolete in that Author's Time--That of Witches remained in vigour--But impugned by various Authors after the Reformation, as Wierus, Naudæus, Scot, and others--Demonology defended by Bodinus, Remigius, &c.--Their mutual Abuse of each other--Imperfection of Physical Science at this Period, and the Predominance of Mysticism in that Department. Although the influence of the Christian religion was not introduced to the nations of Europe with such radiance as to dispel at once those clouds of superstition which continued to obscure the understanding of hasty and ill-instructed converts, there can be no doubt that its immediate operation went to modify the erroneous and extravagant articles of credulity which lingered behind the old pagan faith, and which gave way before it, in proportion as its light became more pure and refined from the devices of men. The poet Chaucer, indeed, pays the Church of Rome, with its monks and preaching friars, the compliment of having, at an early period, expelled from the land all spirits of an inferior and less holy character. The verses are curious as well as picturesque, and may go some length to establish the existence of doubts concerning the general belief in fairies among the well-instructed in the time of Edward III. The fairies of whom the bard of Woodstock talks are, it will be observed, the ancient Celtic breed, and he seems to refer for the authorities of his tale to Bretagne, or Armorica, a genuine Celtic colony:-- "In old time of the King Artour, Of which that Bretons speken great honour, All was this land fulfilled of faerie; The Elf queen, with her joly company, Danced full oft in many a grene mead. This was the old opinion, as I rede-- I speake of many hundred years ago, But now can no man see no elves mo. For now the great charity and prayers Of limitours,[39] and other holy freres, That searchen every land and every stream, As thick as motes in the sunne-beam, Blessing halls, chambers, kitchenes, and boures, Cities and burghes, castles high and towers, Thropes and barnes, sheep-pens and dairies, This maketh that there ben no fairies. For there as wont to walken was an elf, There walketh now the limitour himself, In under nichtes and in morwenings, And saith his mattins and his holy things, As he goeth in his limitation. Women may now go safely up and doun; In every bush, and under every tree, There is no other incubus than he, And he ne will don them no dishonour."[40] [Footnote 39: Friars limited to beg within a certain district.] [Footnote 40: "Wife of Bath's Tale."] When we see the opinion which Chaucer has expressed of the regular clergy of his time, in some of his other tales, we are tempted to suspect some mixture of irony in the compliment which ascribes the exile of the fairies, with whih the land was "fulfilled" in King Arthur's time, to the warmth and zeal of the devotion of the limitary friars. Individual instances of scepticism there might exist among scholars, but a more modern poet, with a vein of humour not unworthy of Geoffrey himself, has with greater probability delayed the final banishment of the fairies from England, that is, from popular faith, till the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and has represented their expulsion as a consequence of the change of religion. Two or three verses of this lively satire may be very well worth the reader's notice, who must, at the same time, be informed that the author, Dr. Corbett, was nothing less than the Bishop of Oxford and Norwich in the beginning of the seventeenth century. The poem is named "A proper new Ballad, entitled the Fairies' Farewell, to be sung or whistled to the tune of the Meadow Brow by the learned; by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune:"-- "Farewell, rewards and fairies, Good housewives now may say, For now foul sluts in dairies Do fare as well as they; And though they sweep their hearths no less Than maids were wont to do, Yet who of late for cleanliness Finds sixpence in her shoe? "Lament, lament, old abbies, The fairies' lost command; They did but change priests' babies, But some have changed your land; And all your children sprung from hence Are now grown Puritans, Who live as changelings ever since For love of your domains. "At morning and at evening both, You merry were and glad, So little care of sleep and sloth Those pretty ladies had. When Tom came home from labour. Or Cis to milking rose, Then merrily, merrily went their tabor, And merrily went their toes. "Witness those rings and roundelays Of theirs, which yet remain, Were footed, in Queen Mary's days, On many a grassy plain; But since of late Elizabeth, And later James came in, They never danced on any heath As when the time hath bin. "By which we note, the fairies Were of the old profession, Their songs were Ave Maries, Their dances were procession. But now, alas! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas; Or farther for religion fled, Or else they take their ease." The remaining part of the poem is dedicated to the praise and glory of old William Chourne of Staffordshire, who remained a true and stanch evidence in behalf of the departed elves, and kept, much it would seem to the amusement of the witty bishop, an inexhaustible record of their pranks and feats, whence the concluding verse-- "To William all give audience, And pray ye for his noddle, For all the fairies' evidence Were lost if that were addle."[41] [Footnote 41: Corbett's Poems, edited by Octavuis Gilchrist, p. 213.] This William Chourne appears to have attended Dr. Corbett's party on the _iter septentrionale_, "two of which were, and two desired to be, doctors;" but whether William was guide, friend, or domestic seems uncertain. The travellers lose themselves in the mazes of Chorley Forest on their way to Bosworth, and their route becomes so confused that they return on their steps and labour-- "As in a conjuror's circle--William found A mean for our deliverance,--'Turn your cloaks,' Quoth he, 'for Puck is busy in these oaks; If ever you at Bosworth would be found, Then turn your cloaks, for this is fairy ground.' But ere this witchcraft was performed, we meet A very man who had no cloven feet. Though William, still of little faith, has doubt, 'Tis Robin, or some sprite that walks about. 'Strike him,' quoth he, 'and it will turn to air-- Cross yourselves thrice and strike it.'--'Strike that dare,' Thought I, 'for sure this massy forester, In strokes will prove the better conjuror.' But 'twas a gentle keeper, one that knew Humanity and manners, where they grew, And rode along so far, till he could say, 'See, yonder Bosworth stands, and this your way.'"[42] [Footnote 42: Corbett's Poems, p. 191.] In this passage the bishop plainly shows the fairies maintained their influence in William's imagination, since the courteous keeper was mistaken by their associate champion for Puck or Robin Goodfellow. The spells resorted to to get rid of his supposed delusions are alternatively that of turning the cloak--(recommended in visions of the second-sight or similar illusions as a means of obtaining a certainty concerning the being which is before imperfectly seen[43])--and that of exorcising the spirit with a cudgel; which last, Corbett prudently thinks, ought not to be resorted to unless under an absolute conviction that the exorcist is the stronger party. Chaucer, therefore, could not be serious in averring that the fairy superstitions were obsolete in his day, since they were found current three centuries afterwards. [Footnote 43: A common instance is that of a person haunted with a resemblance whose face he cannot see. If he turn his cloak or plaid, he will obtain the full sight which he desires, and may probably find it to be his own fetch, or wraith, or double-ganger.] It is not the less certain that, as knowledge and religion became more widely and brightly displayed over any country, the superstitious fancies of the people sunk gradually in esteem and influence; and in the time of Queen Elizabeth the unceasing labour of many and popular preachers, who declaimed against the "splendid miracles" of the Church of Rome, produced also its natural effect upon the other stock of superstitions. "Certainly," said Reginald Scot, talking of times before his own, "some one knave in a white sheet hath cozened and abused many thousands, specially when Robin Goodfellow kept such a coil in the country. In our childhood our mothers' maids have so terrified us with an ugly devil having horns on his head, fire in his mouth, and a tail at his breech; eyes like a basin, fangs like a dog, claws like a bear, a skin like a negro, and a voice roaring like a lion, whereby we start and are afraid when we hear one cry, Boh! and they have so frayd us with bull-beggars, spirits, witches, urchins, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, Pans, faunes, sylvans, Kitt-with-the-candlestick, tritons, centaurs, dwarfs, giants, imps, calcars, conjurers, nymphs, changelings, incubus, Robin Goodfellow, the spoorn, the man-in-the-oak, the hellwain, the fire-drake, the puckle, Tom Thumb, Hobgoblin, Tom Tumbler, Boneless, and such other bugbears, that we are afraid of our own shadows, insomuch that some never fear the devil but on a dark night; and then a polled sheep is a perilous beast, and many times is taken for our father's soul, specially in a churchyard, where a right hardy man heretofore durst not to have passed by night but his hair would stand upright. Well, thanks be to God, this wretched and cowardly infidelity, since the preaching of the Gospel, is in part forgotten, and doubtless the rest of these illusions will in a short time, by God's grace, be detected and vanish away."[44] [Footnote 44: Reginald Scot's "Discovery of Witchcraft," book vii. chap. 15.] It would require a better demonologist than I am to explain the various obsolete superstitions which Reginald Scot has introduced as articles of the old English faith, into the preceding passage. I might indeed say the Phuca is a Celtic superstition, from which the word Pook or Puckle was doubtless derived; and I might conjecture that the man-in-the-oak was the same with the Erl-König of the Germans; and that the hellwain were a kind of wandering spirits, the descendants of a champion named Hellequin, who are introduced into the romance of Richard sans Peur. But most antiquaries will be at fault concerning the spoorn, Kitt-with-the-candlestick, Boneless, and some others. The catalogue, however, serves to show what progress the English have made in two centuries, in forgetting the very names of objects which had been the sources of terror to their ancestors of the Elizabethan age. Before leaving the subject of fairy superstition in England we may remark that it was of a more playful and gentle, less wild and necromantic character, than that received among the sister people. The amusements of the southern fairies were light and sportive; their resentments were satisfied with pinching or scratching the objects of their displeasure; their peculiar sense of cleanliness rewarded the housewives with the silver token in the shoe; their nicety was extreme concerning any coarseness or negligence which could offend their delicacy; and I cannot discern, except, perhaps, from the insinuations of some scrupulous divines, that they were vassals to or in close alliance with the infernals, as there is too much reason to believe was the case with their North British sisterhood.[45] The common nursery story cannot be forgotten, how, shortly after the death of what is called a nice tidy housewife, the Elfin band was shocked to see that a person of different character, with whom the widower had filled his deserted arms, instead of the nicely arranged little loaf of the whitest bread, and a basin of sweet cream, duly placed for their refreshment by the deceased, had substituted a brown loaf and a cobb of herrings. Incensed at such a coarse regale, the elves dragged the peccant housewife out of bed, and pulled her down the wooden stairs by the heels, repeating, at the same time, in scorn of her churlish hospitality-- "Brown bread and herring cobb! Thy fat sides shall have many a bob!" But beyond such playful malice they had no desire to extend their resentment. [Footnote 45: Dr. Jackson, in his "Treatise on Unbelief," opines for the severe opinion. "Thus are the Fayries, from difference of events ascribed to them, divided into good and bad, when as it is but one and the same malignant fiend that meddles in both; seeking sometimes to be feared, otherwhiles to be loued as God, for the bodily harmes or good turnes supposed to be in his power."--Jackson on Unbelief, p. 178, edit. 1625.] The constant attendant upon the English Fairy court was the celebrated Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, who to the elves acted in some measure as the jester or clown of the company--(a character then to be found in the establishment of every person of quality)--or to use a more modern comparison, resembled the Pierrot of the pantomime. His jests were of the most simple and at the same time the broadest comic character--to mislead a clown on his path homeward, to disguise himself like a stool, in order to induce an old gossip to commit the egregious mistake of sitting down on the floor when she expected to repose on a chair, were his special enjoyments. If he condescended to do some work for the sleeping family, in which he had some resemblance to the Scottish household spirit called a Brownie, the selfish Puck was far from practising this labour on the disinterested principle of the northern goblin, who, if raiment or food was left in his way and for his use, departed from the family in displeasure. Robin Goodfellow, on the contrary, must have both his food and his rest, as Milton informs us, amid his other notices of country superstitions, in the poem of L'Allegro. And it is to be noticed that he represents these tales of the fairies, told round the cottage hearth, as of a cheerful rather than a serious cast; which illustrates what I have said concerning the milder character of the southern superstitions, as compared with those of the same class in Scotland--the stories of which are for the most part of a frightful and not seldom of a disgusting quality. Poor Robin, however, between whom and King Oberon Shakespeare contrives to keep a degree of distinct subordination, which for a moment deceives us by its appearance of reality, notwithstanding his turn for wit and humour, had been obscured by oblivion even in the days of Queen Bess. We have already seen, in a passage quoted from Reginald Scot, that the belief was fallen into abeyance; that which follows from the same author affirms more positively that Robin's date was over:-- "Know ye this, by the way, that heretofore Robin Goodfellow and Hobgoblin were as terrible, and also as credible, to the people as hags and witches be now; and in time to come a witch will be as much derided and condemned, and as clearly perceived, as the illusion and knavery of Robin Goodfellow, upon whom there have gone as many and as credible tales as witchcraft, saving that it hath not pleased the translators of the Bible to call spirits by the name of Robin Goodfellow, as they have diviners, soothsayers, poisoners, and cozeners by the name of witches."[46] In the same tone Reginald Scot addresses the reader in the preface:--"To make a solemn suit to you that are partial readers to set aside partiality, to take in good part my writings, and with indifferent eyes to look upon my book, were labour lost and time ill-employed; for I should no more prevail herein than if, a hundred years since, I should have entreated your predecessors to believe that Robin Goodfellow, that great and ancient bull-beggar, had been but a cozening merchant, and no devil indeed. But Robin Goodfellow ceaseth now to be much feared, and Popery is sufficiently discovered; nevertheless, witches' charms and conjurers' cozenage are yet effectual." This passage seems clearly to prove that the belief in Robin Goodfellow and his fairy companions was now out of date; while that as to witchcraft, as was afterwards but too well shown, kept its ground against argument and controversy, and survived "to shed more blood." [Footnote 46: Reginald Scot's "Discovery of Witchcraft," book vii. chap, ii.] We are then to take leave of this fascinating article of the popular creed, having in it so much of interest to the imagination that we almost envy the credulity of those who, in the gentle moonlight of a summer night in England, amid the tangled glades of a deep forest, or the turfy swell of her romantic commons, could fancy they saw the fairies tracing their sportive ring. But it is in vain to regret illusions which, however engaging, must of necessity yield their place before the increase of knowledge, like shadows at the advance of morn. These superstitions have already survived their best and most useful purpose, having been embalmed in the poetry of Milton and of Shakespeare, as well as writers only inferior to these great names. Of Spenser we must say nothing, because in his "Faery Queen" the title is the only circumstance which connects his splendid allegory with the popular superstition, and, as he uses it, means nothing more than an Utopia or nameless country. With the fairy popular creed fell, doubtless, many subordinate articles of credulity in England, but the belief in witches kept its ground. It was rooted in the minds of the common people, as well by the easy solution it afforded of much which they found otherwise hard to explain, as in reverence to the Holy Scriptures, in which the word _witch,_ being used in several places, conveyed to those who did not trouble themselves about the nicety of the translation from the Eastern tongues, the inference that the same species of witches were meant as those against whom modern legislation had, in most European nations, directed the punishment of death. These two circumstances furnished the numerous believers in witchcraft with arguments in divinity and law which they conceived irrefragable. They might say to the theologist, Will you not believe in witches? the Scriptures aver their existence;--to the jurisconsult, Will you dispute the existence of a crime against which our own statute-book, and the code of almost all civilized countries, have attested, by laws upon which hundreds and thousands have been convicted, many or even most of whom have, by their judicial confessions, acknowledged their guilt and the justice of their punishment? It is a strange scepticism, they might add, which rejects the evidence of Scripture, of human legislature, and of the accused persons themselves. Notwithstanding these specious reasons, the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were periods when the revival of learning, the invention of printing, the fearless investigations of the Reformers into subjects thought formerly too sacred for consideration of any save the clergy, had introduced a system of doubt, enquiry, disregard of authority, when unsupported by argument, and unhesitating exercise of the private judgment, on subjects which had occupied the bulls of popes and decrees of councils. In short, the spirit of the age was little disposed to spare error, however venerable, or countenance imposture, however sanctioned by length of time and universal acquiescence. Learned writers arose in different countries to challenge the very existence of this imaginary crime, to rescue the reputation of the great men whose knowledge, superior to that of their age, had caused them to be suspected of magic, and to put a stop to the horrid superstition whose victims were the aged, ignorant, and defenceless, and which could only be compared to that which sent victims of old through the fire to Moloch. The courageous interposition of those philosophers who opposed science and experience to the prejudices of superstition and ignorance, and in doing so incurred much misrepresentation, and perhaps no little ill-will, in the cause of truth and humanity, claim for them some distinction in a work on Demonology. The pursuers of exact science to its coy retreats, were sure to be the first to discover that the most remarkable phenomena in Nature are regulated by certain fixed laws, and cannot rationally be referred to supernatural agency, the sufficing cause to which superstition attributes all that is beyond her own narrow power of explanation. Each advance in natural knowledge teaches us that it is the pleasure of the Creator to govern the world by the laws which he has imposed, and which are not in our times interrupted or suspended. The learned Wier, or Wierus, was a man of great research in physical science, and studied under the celebrated Cornelius Agrippa, against whom the charge of sorcery was repeatedly alleged by Paulus Jovius and other authors, while he suffered, on the other hand, from the persecution of the inquisitors of the Church, whose accusation against this celebrated man was, that he denied the existence of spirits, a charge very inconsistent with that of sorcery, which consists in corresponding with them. Wierus, after taking his degree as a doctor of medicine, became physician to the Duke of Cleves, at whose court he practised for thirty years with the highest reputation. This learned man, disregarding the scandal which, by so doing, he was likely to bring upon himself, was one of the first who attacked the vulgar belief, and boldly assailed, both by serious arguments and by ridicule, the vulgar credulity on the subject of wizards and witches. Gabriel Naudé, or Naudæus, as he termed himself, was a perfect scholar and man of letters, busied during his whole life with assembling books together, and enjoying the office of librarian to several persons of high rank, amongst others, to Queen Christina of Sweden. He was, besides, a beneficed clergyman, leading a most unblemished life, and so temperate as never to taste any liquor stronger than water; yet did he not escape the scandal which is usually flung by their prejudiced contemporaries upon those disputants whom it is found more easy to defame than to answer. He wrote an interesting work, entitled "Apologie pour les Grands Homines Accusés de Magie;" and as he exhibited a good deal of vivacity of talent, and an earnestness in pleading his cause, which did not always spare some of the superstitions of Rome herself, he was charged by his contemporaries as guilty of heresy and scepticism, when justice could only accuse him of an incautious eagerness to make good his argument. Among persons who, upon this subject, purged their eyes with rue and euphrasie, besides the Rev. Dr. Harsnet and many others (who wrote rather on special cases of Demonology than on the general question), Reginald Scot ought to be distinguished. Webster assures us that he was a "person of competent learning, pious, and of a good family." He seems to have been a zealous Protestant, and much of his book, as well as that of Harsnet, is designed to throw upon the Papists in particular those tricks in which, by confederacy and imposture, the popular ideas concerning witchcraft, possession, and other supernatural fancies, were maintained and kept in exercise; but he also writes on the general question with some force and talent, considering that his subject is incapable of being reduced into a regular form, and is of a nature particularly seductive to an excursive talent. He appears to have studied legerdemain for the purpose of showing how much that is apparently unaccountable can nevertheless be performed without the intervention of supernatural assistance, even when it is impossible to persuade the vulgar that the devil has not been consulted on the occasion. Scot also had intercourse with some of the celebrated fortune-tellers, or Philomaths, of the time; one of whom he brings forward to declare the vanity of the science which he himself had once professed. To defend the popular belief of witchcraft there arose a number of advocates, of whom Bodin and some others neither wanted knowledge nor powers of reasoning. They pressed the incredulous party with the charge that they denied the existence of a crime against which the law had denounced a capital punishment. As that law was understood to emanate from James himself, who was reigning monarch during the hottest part of the controversy, the English authors who defended the opposite side were obliged to entrench themselves under an evasion, to avoid maintaining an argument unpalatable to a degree to those in power, and which might perchance have proved unsafe to those who used it. With a certain degree of sophistry they answered that they did not doubt the possibility of witches, but only demurred to what is their nature, and how they came to be such--according to the scholastic jargon, that the question in respect to witches was not _de existentia_, but only _de modo existendi_. By resorting to so subtle an argument those who impugned the popular belief were obliged, with some inconsistency, to grant that witchcraft had existed, and might exist, only insisting that it was a species of witchcraft consisting of they knew not what, but certainly of something different from that which legislators, judges, and juries had hitherto considered the statute as designed to repress. In the meantime (the rather that the debate was on a subject particularly difficult of comprehension) the debating parties grew warm, and began to call names. Bodin, a lively Frenchman of an irritable habit, explained the zeal of Wierus to protect the tribe of sorcerers from punishment, by stating that he himself was a conjurer and the scholar of Cornelius Agrippa, and might therefore well desire to save the lives of those accused of the same league with Satan. Hence they threw on their antagonists the offensive names of witch-patrons and witch-advocates, as if it were impossible for any to hold the opinion of Naudæus, Wierus, Scot, &c., without patronizing the devil and the witches against their brethren of mortality. Assailed by such heavy charges, the philosophers themselves lost patience, and retorted abuse in their turn, calling Bodin, Delrio, and others who used their arguments, witch-advocates, and the like, as the affirming and defending the existence of the crime seemed to increase the number of witches, and assuredly augmented the list of executions. But for a certain time the preponderance of the argument lay on the side of the Demonologists, and we may briefly observe the causes which gave their opinions, for a period, greater influence than their opponents on the public mind. It is first to be observed that Wierus, for what reason cannot well be conjectured, except to show the extent of his cabalistical knowledge, had introduced into his work against witchcraft the whole Stenographia of Trithemius, which he had copied from the original in the library of Cornelius Agrippa; and which, suspicious from the place where he found it, and from the long catalogue of fiends which it contained, with the charms for raising and for binding them to the service of mortals, was considered by Bodin as containing proof that Wierus himself was a sorcerer; not one of the wisest, certainly, since he thus unnecessarily placed at the disposal of any who might buy the book the whole secrets which formed his stock-in-trade. Secondly, we may notice that, from the state of physical science at the period when Van Helmont, Paracelsus, and others began to penetrate into its recesses, it was an unknown, obscure, and ill-defined region, and did not permit those who laboured in it to give that precise and accurate account of their discoveries which the progress of reasoning experimentally and from analysis has enabled the late discoverers to do with success. Natural magic--a phrase used to express those phenomena which could be produced by a knowledge of the properties of matter--had so much in it that was apparently uncombined and uncertain, that the art of chemistry was accounted mystical, and an opinion prevailed that the results now known to be the consequence of laws of matter, could not be traced through their various combinations even by those who knew the effects themselves. Physical science, in a word, was cumbered by a number of fanciful and incorrect opinions, chiefly of a mystical character. If, for instance, it was observed that a flag and a fern never grew near each other, the circumstance was imputed to some antipathy between these vegetables; nor was it for some time resolved by the natural rule, that the flag has its nourishment in marshy ground, whereas the fern loves a deep dryish soil. The attributes of the divining-rod were fully credited; the discovery of the philosopher's stone was daily hoped for; and electricity, magnetism, and other remarkable and misconceived phenomena were appealed to as proof of the reasonableness of their expectations. Until such phenomena were traced to their sources, imaginary and often mystical causes were assigned to them, for the same reason that, in the wilds of a partially discovered country, according to the satirist, "Geographers on pathless downs Place elephants for want of towns." This substitution of mystical fancies for experimental reasoning gave, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a doubtful and twilight appearance to the various branches of physical philosophy. The learned and sensible Dr. Webster, for instance, writing in detection of supposed witchcraft, assumes, as a string of undeniable facts, opinions which our more experienced age would reject as frivolous fancies; "for example, the effects of healing by the weapon-salve, the sympathetic powder, the curing of various diseases by apprehensions, amulets, or by transplantation." All of which undoubted wonders he accuses the age of desiring to throw on the devil's back--an unnecessary load certainly, since such things do not exist, and it is therefore in vain to seek to account for them. It followed that, while the opposers of the ordinary theory might have struck the deepest blows at the witch hypothesis by an appeal to common sense, they were themselves hampered by articles of philosophical belief which they must have been sensible contained nearly as deep draughts upon human credulity as were made by the Demonologists, against whose doctrine they protested. This error had a doubly bad effect, both as degrading the immediate department in which it occurred, and as affording a protection for falsehood in other branches of science. The champions who, in their own province, were obliged by the imperfect knowledge of the times to admit much that was mystical and inexplicable--those who opined, with Bacon, that warts could be cured by sympathy--who thought, with Napier, that hidden treasures could be discovered by the mathematics--who salved the weapon instead of the wound, and detected murders as well as springs of water by the divining-rod, could not consistently use, to confute the believers in witches, an argument turning on the impossible or the incredible. Such were the obstacles arising from the vanity of philosophers and the imperfection of their science, which suspended the strength of their appeal to reason and common sense against the condemning of wretches to a cruel death on account of crimes which the nature of things rendered in modern times totally impossible. We cannot doubt that they suffered considerably in the contest, which was carried on with much anger and malevolence; but the good seed which they had sown remained uncorrupted in the soil, to bear fruit so soon as the circumstances should be altered which at first impeded its growth. In the next letter I shall take a view of the causes which helped to remove these impediments, in addition, it must always be remembered, to the general increase of knowledge and improvement of experimental philosophy. LETTER VII. Penal Laws unpopular when rigidly exercised--Prosecution of Witches placed in the hand of Special Commissioners, _ad inquirendum_--Prosecution for Witchcraft not frequent in the Elder Period of the Roman Empire--Nor in the Middle Ages--Some Cases took place, however--The Maid of Orleans--The Duchess of Gloucester--Richard the Third's Charge against the Relations of the Queen Dowager--But Prosecutions against Sorcerers became more common in the end of the Fourteenth Century--Usually united with the Charge of Heresy--Monstrelet's Account of the Persecution against the Waldenses, under pretext of Witchcraft--Florimond's Testimony concerning the Increase of Witches in his own Time--Bull of Pope Innocent VIII.--Various Prosecutions in Foreign Countries under this severe Law--Prosecutions in Labourt by the Inquisitor De Lancre and his Colleague--Lycanthropy--Witches in Spain--In Sweden--and particularly those Apprehended at Mohra. Penal laws, like those of the Middle Ages, denounced against witchcraft, may be at first hailed with unanimous acquiescence and approbation, but are uniformly found to disgust and offend at least the more sensible part of the public when the punishments become frequent and are relentlessly inflicted. Those against treason are no exception. Each reflecting government will do well to shorten that melancholy reign of terror which perhaps must necessarily follow on the discovery of a plot or the defeat of an insurrection. They ought not, either in humanity or policy, to wait till the voice of the nation calls to them, as Mecænas to Augustus, "_Surge tandem carnifex_!" It is accordingly remarkable, in different countries, how often at some particular period of their history there occurred an epidemic of terror of witches, which, as fear is always cruel and credulous, glutted the public with seas of innocent blood; and how uniformly men loathed the gore after having swallowed it, and by a reaction natural to the human mind desired, in prudence, to take away or restrict those laws which had been the source of carnage, in order that their posterity might neither have the will nor the means to enter into similar excesses. A short review of foreign countries, before we come to notice the British Islands and their Colonies, will prove the truth of this statement. In Catholic countries on the Continent, the various kingdoms adopted readily that part of the civil law, already mentioned, which denounces sorcerers and witches as rebels to God, and authors of sedition in the empire. But being considered as obnoxious equally to the canon and civil law, Commissions of Inquisition were especially empowered to weed out of the land the witches and those who had intercourse with familiar spirits, or in any other respect fell under the ban of the Church, as well as the heretics who promulgated or adhered to false doctrine. Special warrants were thus granted from time to time in behalf of such inquisitors, authorizing them to visit those provinces of Germany, France, or Italy where any report concerning witches or sorcery had alarmed the public mind; and those Commissioners, proud of the trust reposed in them, thought it becoming to use the utmost exertions on their part, that the subtlety of the examinations, and the severity of the tortures they inflicted, might wring the truth out of all suspected persons, until they rendered the province in which they exercised their jurisdiction a desert from which the inhabitants fled. It would be impossible to give credit to the extent of this delusion, had not some of the inquisitors themselves been reporters of their own judicial exploits: the same hand which subscribed the sentence has recorded the execution. In the earlier period of the Church of Rome witchcraft is frequently alluded to, and a capital punishment assigned to those who were supposed to have accomplished by sorcery the death of others, or to have attempted, by false prophecies or otherwise, under pretext of consulting with the spiritual world, to make innovation in the state. But no general denunciation against witchcraft itself, as a league with the Enemy of Man, or desertion of the Deity, and a crime _sui generis_, appears to have been so acted upon, until the later period of the sixteenth century, when the Papal system had attained its highest pitch of power and of corruption. The influence of the Churchmen was in early times secure, and they rather endeavoured, by the fabrication of false miracles, to prolong the blind veneration of the people, than to vex others and weary themselves by secret investigations into dubious and mystical trespasses, in which probably the higher and better instructed members of the clerical order put as little faith at that time as they do now. Did there remain a mineral fountain, respected for the cures which it had wrought, a huge oak-tree, or venerated mount, which beauty of situation had recommended to traditional respect, the fathers of the Roman Church were in policy reluctant to abandon such impressive spots, or to represent them as exclusively the rendezvous of witches or of evil spirits. On the contrary, by assigning the virtues of the spring or the beauty of the tree to the guardianship of some saint, they acquired, as it were, for the defence of their own doctrine, a frontier fortress which they wrested from the enemy, and which it was at least needless to dismantle, if it could be conveniently garrisoned and defended. Thus the Church secured possession of many beautiful pieces of scenery, as Mr. Whitfield is said to have grudged to the devil the monopoly of all the fine tunes. It is true that this policy was not uniformly observed. The story of the celebrated Jeanne d'Arc, called the Maid of Orleans, preserves the memory of such a custom, which was in that case turned to the prejudice of the poor woman who observed it. It is well known that this unfortunate female fell into the hands of the English, after having, by her courage and enthusiasm manifested on many important occasions, revived the drooping courage of the French, and inspired them with the hope of once more freeing their country. The English vulgar regarded her as a sorceress--the French as an inspired heroine; while the wise on both sides considered her as neither the one nor the other, but a tool used by the celebrated Dunois to play the part which he assigned her. The Duke of Bedford, when the ill-starred Jeanne fell into his hands, took away her life in order to stigmatize her memory with sorcery and to destroy the reputation she had acquired among the French. The mean recurrence to such a charge against such a person had no more success than it deserved, although Jeanne was condemned both by the Parliament of Bordeux and the University of Paris. Her indictment accused her of having frequented an ancient oak-tree, and a fountain arising under it, called the Fated or Fairy Oak of Bourlemont. Here she was stated to have repaired during the hours of divine service, dancing, skipping, and making gestures, around the tree and fountain, and hanging on the branches chaplets and garlands of flowers, gathered for the purpose, reviving, doubtless, the obsolete idolatry which in ancient times had been rendered on the same spot to the _Genius Loci_. The charmed sword and blessed banner, which she had represented as signs of her celestial mission, were in this hostile charge against her described as enchanted implements, designed by the fiends and fairies whom she worshipped to accomplish her temporary success. The death of the innocent, high-minded, and perhaps amiable enthusiast, was not, we are sorry to say, a sacrifice to a superstitious fear of witchcraft, but a cruel instance of wicked policy mingled with national jealousy and hatred. To the same cause, about the same period, we may impute the trial of the Duchess of Gloucester, wife of the good Duke Humphrey, accused of consulting witches concerning the mode of compassing the death of her husband's nephew, Henry VI. The Duchess was condemned to do penance, and thereafter banished to the Isle of Man, while several of her accomplices died in prison or were executed. But in this instance also the alleged witchcraft was only the ostensible cause of a procedure which had its real source in the deep hatred between the Duke of Gloucester and Cardinal Beaufort, his half-brother. The same pretext was used by Richard III. when he brought the charge of sorcery against the Queen Dowager, Jane Shore, and the queen's kinsmen; and yet again was by that unscrupulous prince directed against Morton, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, and other adherents of the Earl of Richmond. The accusation in both cases was only chosen as a charge easily made and difficult to be eluded or repelled. But in the meanwhile, as the accusation of witchcraft thus afforded to tyranny or policy the ready means of assailing persons whom it might not have been possible to convict of any other crime, the aspersion itself was gradually considered with increase of terror as spreading wider and becoming more contagious. So early as the year 1398 the University of Paris, in laying down rules for the judicial prosecuting of witches, express their regret that the crime was growing more frequent than in any former age. The more severe enquiries and frequent punishments by which the judges endeavoured to check the progress of this impious practice seem to have increased the disease, as indeed it has been always remarked that those morbid affections of mind which depend on the imagination are sure to become more common in proportion as public attention is fastened on stories connected with their display. In the same century schisms arising from different causes greatly alarmed the Church of Rome. The universal spirit of enquiry which was now afloat, taking a different direction in different countries, had in almost all of them stirred up a sceptical dissatisfaction with the dogmas of the Church--such views being rendered more credible to the poorer classes through the corruption of manners among the clergy, too many of whom wealth and ease had caused to neglect that course of morality which best recommends religious doctrine. In almost every nation in Europe there lurked in the crowded cities, or the wild solitude of the country, sects who agreed chiefly in their animosity to the supremacy of Rome and their desire to cast off her domination. The Waldenses and Albigenses were parties existing in great numbers through the south of France. The Romanists became extremely desirous to combine the doctrine of the heretics with witchcraft, which, according to their account, abounded especially where the Protestants were most numerous; and, the bitterness increasing, they scrupled not to throw the charge of sorcery, as a matter of course, upon those who dissented from the Catholic standard of faith. The Jesuit Delrio alleges several reasons for the affinity which he considers as existing between the Protestant and the sorcerer; he accuses the former of embracing the opinion of Wierus and other defenders of the devil (as he calls all who oppose his own opinions concerning witchcraft), thus fortifying the kingdom of Satan against that of the Church.[47] [Footnote 47: Delrio, "De Magia." See the Preface.] A remarkable passage in Monstrelet puts in a clear view the point aimed at by the Catholics in thus confusing and blending the doctrines of heresy and the practice of witchcraft, and how a meeting of inoffensive Protestants could be cunningly identified with a Sabbath of hags and fiends. "In this year (1459), in the town of Arras and county of Artois, arose, through a terrible and melancholy chance, an opinion called, I know not why, the Religion of Vaudoisie. This sect consisted, it is said, of certain persons, both men and women, who, under cloud of night, by the power of the devil, repaired to some solitary spot, amid woods and deserts, where the devil appeared before them in a human form--save that his visage is never perfectly visible to them--read to the assembly a book of his ordinances, informing them how he would be obeyed; distributed a very little money and a plentiful meal, which was concluded by a scene of general profligacy; after which each one of the party was conveyed home to her or his own habitation. "On accusations of access to such acts of madness," continues Monstrelet, "several creditable persons of the town of Arras were seized and imprisoned along with some foolish women and persons of little consequence. These were so horribly tortured that some of them admitted the truth of the whole accusations, and said, besides, that they had seen and recognised in their nocturnal assembly many persons of rank, prelates, seigneurs, and governors of bailliages and cities, being such names as the examinators had suggested to the persons examined, while they constrained them by torture to impeach the persons to whom they belonged. Several of those who had been thus informed against were arrested, thrown into prison, and tortured for so long a time that they also were obliged to confess what was charged against them. After this those of mean condition were executed and inhumanly burnt, while the richer and more powerful of the accused ransomed themselves by sums of money, to avoid the punishment and the shame attending it. Many even of those also confessed being persuaded to take that course by the interrogators, who promised them indemnity for life and fortune. Some there were, of a truth, who suffered with marvellous patience and constancy the torments inflicted on them, and would confess nothing imputed to their charge; but they, too, had to give large sums to the judges, who exacted that such of them as, notwithstanding their mishandling, were still able to move, should banish themselves from that part of the country." Monstrelet winds up this shocking narrative by informing us "that it ought not to be concealed that the whole accusation was a stratagem of wicked men for their own covetous purposes, and in order, by these false accusations and forced confessions, to destroy the life, fame, and fortune of wealthy persons." Delrio himself confesses that Franciscus Balduinus gives an account of the pretended punishment, but real persecution, of these Waldenses, in similar terms with Monstrelet, whose suspicions are distinctly spoken out, and adds that the Parliament of Paris, having heard the affair by appeal, had declared the sentence illegal and the judges iniquitous, by an arrét dated 20th May, 1491. The Jesuit Delrio quotes the passage, but adheres with lingering reluctance to the truth of the accusation. "The Waldenses (of whom the Albigenses are a species) were," he says, "never free from the most wretched excess of fascination;" and finally, though he allows the conduct of the judges to have been most odious, he cannot prevail on himself to acquit the parties charged by such interested accusers with horrors which should hardly have been found proved even upon the most distinct evidence. He appeals on this occasion to Florimond's work on Antichrist. The introduction of that work deserves to be quoted, as strongly illustrative of the condition to which the country was reduced, and calculated to make an impression the very reverse probably of that which the writer would have desired:-- "All those who have afforded us some signs of the approach of Antichrist agree that the increase of sorcery and witchcraft is to distinguish the melancholy period of his advent; and was ever age so afflicted with them as ours? The seats destined for criminals before our judicatories are blackened with persons accused of this guilt. There are not judges enough to try them. Our dungeons are gorged with them. No day passes that we do not render our tribunals bloody by the dooms which we pronounce, or in which we do not return to our homes discountenanced and terrified at the horrible contents of the confessions which it has been our duty to hear. And the devil is accounted so good a master that we cannot commit so great a number of his slaves to the flames but what there shall arise from their ashes a number sufficient to supply their place."[48] [Footnote 48: Florimond, "Concerning the Antichrist," cap. 7, n. 5, quoted by Delrio, "De Magia," p. 820.] This last statement, by which it appears that the most active and unsparing inquisition was taking place, corresponds with the historical notices of repeated persecutions upon this dreadful charge of sorcery. A bull of Pope Innocent VIII. rang the tocsin against this formidable crime, and set forth in the most dismal colours the guilt, while it stimulated the inquisitors to the unsparing discharge of their duty in searching out and punishing the guilty. "It is come to our ears," says the bull, "that numbers of both sexes do not avoid to have intercourse with the infernal fiends, and that by their sorceries they afflict both man and beast; that they blight the marriage-bed, destroy the births of women, and the increase of cattle; they blast the corn on the ground, the grapes of the vineyard, the fruits of the trees, the grass and herbs of the field." For which reasons the inquisitors were armed with the apostolic power, and called upon to "convict, imprison, and punish," and so forth. Dreadful were the consequences of this bull all over the Continent, especially in Italy, Germany, and France,[49] About 1485 Cumanus burnt as witches forty-one poor women in one year in the county of Burlia. In the ensuing years he continued the prosecution with such unremitting zeal that many fled from the country. [Footnote 49: Dr. Hutchinson quotes "H. Institor," 105, 161.] Alciatus states that an inquisitor, about the same period, burnt an hundred sorcerers in Piedmont, and persevered in his inquiries till human patience was exhausted, and the people arose and drove him out of the country, after which the jurisdiction was deferred to the archbishop. That prelate consulted Alciatus himself, who had just then obtained his doctor's degree in civil law, to which he was afterwards an honour. A number of unfortunate wretches were brought for judgment, fitter, according to the civilian's opinion, for a course of hellebore than for the stake. Some were accused of having dishonoured the crucifix and denied their salvation; others of having absconded to keep the Devil's Sabbath, in spite of bolts and bars; others of having merely joined in the choral dances around the witches' tree of rendezvous. Several of their husbands and relatives swore that they were in bed and asleep during these pretended excursions. Alciatus recommended gentle and temperate measures; and the minds of the country became at length composed.[50] [Footnote 50: Alciat. "Parerg. Juris," lib. viii. chap. 22.] In 1488, the country four leagues around Constance was laid waste by lightning and tempest, and two women being, by fair means or foul, made to confess themselves guilty as the cause of the devastation, suffered death. About 1515, 500 persons were executed at Geneva, under the character of "Protestant witches," from which we may suppose many suffered for heresy. Forty-eight witches were burnt at Ravensburgh within four years, as Hutchison reports, on the authority of Mengho, the author of the "Malleus Malleficarum." In Lorraine the learned inquisitor, Remigius, boasts that he put to death 900 people in fifteen years. As many were banished from that country, so that whole towns were on the point of becoming desolate. In 1524, 1,000 persons were put to death in one year at Como, in Italy, and about 100 every year after for several years.[51] [Footnote 51: Bart. de Spina, de Strigilibus.] In the beginning of the next century the persecution of witches broke out in France with a fury which was hardly conceivable, and multitudes were burnt amid that gay and lively people. Some notion of the extreme prejudice of their judges may be drawn from the words of one of the inquisitors themselves. Pierre de Lancre, royal councillor in the Parliament of Bourdeaux, with whom the President Espaignel was joined in a commission to enquire into certain acts of sorcery, reported to have been committed in Labourt and its neighbourhood, at the foot of the Pyrenees, about the month of May, 1619. A few extracts from the preface will best evince the state of mind in which he proceeded to the discharge of his commission. His story assumes the form of a narrative of a direct war between Satan on the one side and the Royal Commissioners on the other, "because," says Councillor de Lancre, with self-complaisance, "nothing is so calculated to strike terror into the fiend and his dominions as a commission with such plenary powers." At first, Satan endeavoured to supply his vassals who were brought before the judges with strength to support the examinations, so that if, by intermission of the torture, the wretches should fall into a doze, they declared, when they were recalled from it to the question, that the profound stupor "had something of Paradise in it, being gilded," said the judge, "with the immediate presence of the devil;" though, in all probability, it rather derived its charms from the natural comparison between the insensibility of exhaustion and the previous agony of acute torture. The judges took care that the fiend seldom obtained any advantage in the matter by refusing their victims, in most cases, any interval of rest or sleep. Satan then proceeded, in the way of direct defiance, to stop the mouth of the accused openly, and by mere force, with something like a visible obstruction in their throat. Notwithstanding this, to put the devil to shame, some of the accused found means, in spite of him, to confess and be hanged, or rather burnt. The fiend lost much credit by his failure on this occasion. Before the formidable Commissioners arrived, he had held his _cour plénière_ before the gates of Bourdeaux, and in the square of the palace of Galienne, whereas he was now insulted publicly by his own vassals, and in the midst of his festival of the Sabbath the children and relations of the witches who had suffered not sticking to say to him, "Out upon you! Your promise was that our mothers who were prisoners should not die; and look how you have kept your word with us! They have been burnt, and are a heap of ashes." To appease this mutiny Satan had two evasions. He produced illusory fires, and encouraged the mutinous to walk through them, assuring them that the judicial pile was as frigid and inoffensive as those which he exhibited to them. Again, taking his refuge in lies, of which he is well known to be the father, he stoutly affirmed that their parents, who seemed to have suffered, were safe in a foreign country, and that if their children would call on them they would receive an answer. They made the invocation accordingly, and Satan answered each of them in a tone which resembled the voice of the lamented parent almost as successfully as Monsieur Alexandra could have done. Proceeding to a yet more close attack, the Commissioners, on the eve of one of the Fiend's Sabbaths, placed the gibbet on which they executed their victims just on the spot where Satan's gilded chair was usually stationed. The devil was much offended at such an affront, and yet had so little power in the matter that he could only express his resentment by threats that he would hang Messieurs D'Amon and D'Urtubbe, gentlemen who had solicited and promoted the issuing of the Commission, and would also burn the Commissioners themselves in their own fire. We regret to say that Satan was unable to execute either of these laudable resolutions. Ashamed of his excuses, he abandoned for three or four sittings his attendance on the Sabbaths, sending as his representative an imp of subordinate account, and in whom no one reposed confidence. When he took courage again to face his parliament, the Arch-fiend covered his defection by assuring them that he had been engaged in a lawsuit with the Deity, which he had gained with costs, and that six score of infant children were to be delivered up to him in name of damages, and the witches were directed to procure such victims accordingly. After this grand fiction he confined himself to the petty vengeance of impeding the access of confessors to the condemned, which was the more easy as few of them could speak the Basque language. I have no time to detail the ingenious method by which the learned Councillor de Lancre explains why the district of Labourt should be particularly exposed to the pest of sorcery. The chief reason seems to be that it is a mountainous, a sterile, and a border country, where the men are all fishers and the women smoke tobacco and wear short petticoats. To a person who, in this presumptuous, trifling, and conceited spirit, has composed a quarto volume full of the greatest absurdities and grossest obscenities ever impressed on paper, it was the pleasure of the most Christian Monarch to consign the most absolute power which could be exercised on these poor people; and he might with as much prudence have turned a ravenous wolf upon an undefended flock, of whom the animal was the natural enemy, as they were his natural prey. The priest, as well as the ignorant peasant, fell under the suspicion of this fell Commission; and De Lancre writes, with much complacency, that the accused were brought to trial to the number of forty in one day--with what chance of escape, when the judges were blinded with prejudice, and could only hear the evidence and the defence through the medium of an interpreter, the understanding of the reader may easily anticipate. Among other gross transgressions of the most ordinary rules, it may be remarked that the accused, in what their judges called confessions, contradicted each other at every turn respecting the description of the Domdaniel in which they pretended to have been assembled, and the fiend who presided there. All spoke to a sort of gilded throne; but some saw a hideous wild he-goat seated there; some a man disfigured and twisted, as suffering torture; some, with better taste, beheld a huge indistinct form, resembling one of those mutilated trunks of trees found in ancient forests. But De Lancre was no "Daniel come to judgment," and the discrepancy of evidence, which saved the life and fame of Susannah, made no impression in favour of the sorcerers of Labourt. Instances occur in De Lancre's book of the trial and condemnation of persons accused of the crime of _lycanthropy_, a superstition which was chiefly current in France, but was known in other countries, and is the subject of great debate between Wier, Naudé, Scot, on the one hand, and their demonological adversaries on the other. The idea, said the one party, was that a human being had the power, by sorcery, of transforming himself into the shape of a wolf, and in that capacity, being seized with a species of fury, he rushed out and made havoc among the flocks, slaying and wasting, like the animal whom he represented, far more than he could devour. The more incredulous reasoners would not allow of a real transformation, whether with or without the enchanted hide of a wolf, which in some cases was supposed to aid the metamorphosis, and contended that lycanthropy only subsisted as a woful species of disease, a melancholy state of mind, broken with occasional fits of insanity, in which the patient imagined that he committed the ravages of which he was accused. Such a person, a mere youth, was tried at Besançon, who gave himself out for a servant, or yeoman pricker, of the Lord of the Forest--so he called his superior--who was judged to be the devil. He was, by his master's power, transformed into the likeness and performed the usual functions of a wolf, and was attended in his course by one larger, which he supposed the Lord of the Forest himself. These wolves, he said, ravaged the flocks, and throttled the dogs which stood in their defence. If either had not seen the other, he howled, after the manner of the animal, to call his comrade to his share of the prey; if he did not come upon this signal, he proceeded to bury it the best way he could. Such was the general persecution under Messieurs Espiagnel and De Lancre. Many similar scenes occurred in France, till the edict of Louis XIV. discharging all future prosecutions for witchcraft, after which the crime itself was heard of no more.[52] [Footnote 52: The reader may sup full on such wild horrors in the _causes célèbres_.] While the spirit of superstition was working such horrors in France, it was not, we may believe, more idle in other countries of Europe. In Spain, particularly, long the residence of the Moors, a people putting deep faith in all the day-dreams of witchcraft, good and evil genii, spells and talismans, the ardent and devotional temper of the old Christians dictated a severe research after sorcerers as well as heretics, and relapsed Jews or Mahommedans. In former times, during the subsistence of the Moorish kingdoms in Spain, a school was supposed to be kept open in Toboso for the study, it is said, of magic, but more likely of chemistry, algebra, and other sciences, which, altogether mistaken by the ignorant and vulgar, and imperfectly understood even by those who studied them, were supposed to be allied to necromancy, or at least to natural magic. It was, of course, the business of the Inquisition to purify whatever such pursuits had left of suspicious Catholicism, and their labours cost as much blood on accusations of witchcraft and magic as for heresy and relapse. Even the colder nations of Europe were subject to the same epidemic terror for witchcraft, and a specimen of it was exhibited in the sober and rational country of Sweden about the middle of last century, an account of which, being translated into English by a respectable clergyman, Doctor Horneck, excited general surprise how a whole people could be imposed upon to the degree of shedding much blood, and committing great cruelty and injustice, on account of the idle falsehoods propagated by a crew of lying children, who in this case were both actors and witnesses. The melancholy truth that "the human heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked," is by nothing proved so strongly as by the imperfect sense displayed by children of the sanctity of moral truth. Both the gentlemen and the mass of the people, as they advance in years, learn to despise and avoid falsehood; the former out of pride, and from a remaining feeling, derived from the days of chivalry, that the character of a liar is a deadly stain on their honour; the other, from some general reflection upon the necessity of preserving a character for integrity in the course of life, and a sense of the truth of the common adage, that "honesty is the best policy." But these are acquired habits of thinking. The child has no natural love of truth, as is experienced by all who have the least acquaintance with early youth. If they are charged with a fault while they can hardly speak, the first words they stammer forth are a falsehood to excuse it. Nor is this all: the temptation of attracting attention, the pleasure of enjoying importance, the desire to escape from an unpleasing task, or accomplish a holiday, will at any time overcome the sentiment of truth, so weak is it within them. Hence thieves and housebreakers, from a surprisingly early period, find means of rendering children useful in their mystery; nor are such acolytes found to evade justice with less dexterity than the more advanced rogues. Where a number of them are concerned in the same mischief, there is something resembling virtue in the fidelity with which the common secret is preserved. Children, under the usual age of their being admitted to give evidence, were necessarily often examined in witch trials; and it is terrible to see how often the little impostors, from spite or in mere gaiety of spirit, have by their art and perseverance made shipwreck of men's lives. But it would be hard to discover a case which, supported exclusively by the evidence of children (the confessions under torture excepted), and obviously existing only in the young witnesses' own imagination, has been attended with such serious consequences, or given cause to so extensive and fatal a delusion, as that which occurred in Sweden. The scene was the Swedish village of Mohra, in the province of Elfland, which district had probably its name from some remnant of ancient superstition. The delusion had come to a great height ere it reached the ears of government, when, as was the general procedure, Royal Commissioners were sent down, men well fitted for the duty entrusted to them; that is, with ears open to receive the incredibilities with which they were to be crammed, and hearts hardened against every degree of compassion to the accused. The complaints of the common people, backed by some persons of better condition, were that a number of persons, renowned as witches, had drawn several hundred children of all classes under the devil's authority. They demanded, therefore, the punishment of these agents of hell, reminding the judges that the province had been clear of witches since the burning of some on a former occasion. The accused were numerous, so many as threescore and ten witches and sorcerers being seized in the village of Mohra; three-and-twenty confessed their crimes, and were sent to Faluna, where most of them were executed. Fifteen of the children were also led to death. Six-and-thirty of those who were young were forced to run the gauntlet, as it is called, and were, besides, lashed weekly at the church doors for a whole year. Twenty of the youngest were condemned to the same discipline for three days only. The process seems to have consisted in confronting the children with the witches, and hearing the extraordinary story which the former insisted upon maintaining. The children, to the number of three hundred, were found more or less perfect in a tale as full of impossible absurdities as ever was told around a nursery fire. Their confession ran thus:-- They were taught by the witches to go to a cross way, and with certain ceremonies to invoke the devil by the name of Antecessor, begging him to carry them off to Blockula, meaning, perhaps, the Brockenberg, in the Hartz forest, a mountain infamous for being the common scene of witches' meetings, and to which Goethe represents the spirit Mephistopheles as conducting his pupil Faustus. The devil courteously appeared at the call of the children in various forms, but chiefly as a mad Merry-Andrew, with a grey coat, red and blue stockings, a red beard, a high-crowned hat, with linen of various colours wrapt round it, and garters of peculiar length. He set each child on some beast of his providing, and anointed them with a certain unguent composed of the scrapings of altars and the filings of church clocks. There is here a discrepancy of evidence which in another court would have cast the whole. Most of the children considered their journey to be corporeal and actual. Some supposed, however, that their strength or spirit only travelled with the fiend, and that their body remained behind. Very few adopted this last hypothesis, though the parents unanimously bore witness that the bodies of the children remained in bed, and could not be awakened out of a deep sleep, though they shook them for the purpose of awakening them. So strong was, nevertheless, the belief of nurses and mothers in their actual transportation, that a sensible clergyman, mentioned in the preface, who had resolved he would watch his son the whole night and see what hag or fiend would take him from his arms, had the utmost difficulty, notwithstanding, in convincing his mother that the child had not been transported to Blockula during the very night he held him in his embrace. The learned translator candidly allows, "out of so great a multitude as were accused, condemned, and executed, there might be some who suffered unjustly, and owed their death more to the malice of their enemies than to their skill in the black art, I will readily admit. Nor will I deny," he continues, "but that when the news of these transactions and accounts, how the children bewitched fel into fits and strange unusual postures, spread abroad in the kingdom, some fearful and credulous people, if they saw their children any way disordered, might think they were bewitched or ready to be carried away by imps."[53] The learned gentleman here stops short in a train of reasoning, which, followed out, would have deprived the world of the benefit of his translation. For if it was possible that some of these unfortunate persons fell a sacrifice to the malice of their neighbours or the prejudices of witnesses, as he seems ready to grant, is it not more reasonable to believe that the whole of the accused were convicted on similar grounds, than to allow, as truth, the slightest part of the gross and vulgar impossibilities upon which alone their execution can be justified? [Footnote 53: Translator's preface to Horneck's "Account of what happened in the Kingdom of Sweden." See appendix to Glanville's work.] The Blockula, which was the object of their journey, was a house having a fine gate painted with divers colours, with a paddock, in which they turned the beasts to graze which had brought them to such scenes of revelry. If human beings had been employed they were left slumbering against the wall of the house. The plan of the devil's palace consisted of one large banqueting apartment and several withdrawing-rooms. Their food was homely enough, being broth made of coleworts and bacon, with bread and butter, and milk and cheese. The same acts of wickedness and profligacy were committed at Blockula which are usually supposed to take place upon the devil's Sabbath elsewhere; but there was this particular, that the witches had sons and daughters by the fiends, who were married together, and produced an offspring of toads and serpents. These confessions being delivered before the accused witches, they at first stoutly denied them. At last some of them burst into tears, and acquiesced in the horrors imputed to them. They said the practice of carrying off children had been enlarged very lately (which shows the whole rumours to have arisen recently); and the despairing wretches confirmed what the children said, with many other extravagant circumstances, as the mode of elongating a goat's back by means of a spit, on which we care not to be particular. It is worth mentioning that the devil, desirous of enjoying his own reputation among his subjects, pretended at one time to be dead, and was much lamented at Blockula--but he soon revived again. Some attempts these witches had made to harm individuals on middle earth, but with little success. One old sorceress, indeed, attempted to strike a nail, given her by the devil for that purpose, into the head of the minister of Elfland; but as the skull was of unusual solidity, the reverend gentleman only felt a headache from her efforts. They could not be persuaded to exhibit any of their tricks before the Commissioners, excusing themselves by alleging that their witchcraft had left them, and that the devil had amused them with the vision of a burning pit, having a hand thrust out of it. The total number who lost their lives on this singular occasion was fourscore and four persons, including fifteen children; and at this expense of blood was extinguished a flame that arose as suddenly, burned as fiercely, and decayed as rapidly, as any portent of the kind within the annals of superstition. The Commissioners returned to Court with the high approbation of all concerned; prayers were ordered through the churches weekly, that Heaven would be pleased to restrain the powers of the devil, and deliver the poor creatures who hitherto had groaned under it, as well as the innocent children, who were carried off by hundreds at once. If we could ever learn the true explanation of this story, we should probably find that the cry was led by some clever mischievous boy, who wished to apologise to his parents for lying an hour longer in the morning by alleging he had been at Blockula on the preceding night; and that the desire to be as much distinguished as their comrade had stimulated the bolder and more acute of his companions to the like falsehoods; whilst those of weaker minds assented, either from fear of punishment or the force of dreaming over at night the horrors which were dinned into their ears all day. Those who were ingenuous, as it was termed, in their confessions, received praise and encouragement; and those who denied or were silent, and, as it was considered, impenitent, were sure to bear the harder share of the punishment which was addressed to all. It is worth while also to observe, that the smarter children began to improve their evidence and add touches to the general picture of Blockula. "Some of the children talked much of a white angel, which used to forbid them what the devil bid them do, and told them that these doings should not last long. And (they added) this better being would place himself sometimes at the door betwixt the witches and the children, and when they came to Blockula he pulled the children back, but the witches went in." This additional evidence speaks for itself, and shows the whole tale to be the fiction of the children's imagination, which some of them wished to improve upon. The reader may consult "An Account of what happened in the Kingdom of Sweden in the years 1669 and 1670, and afterwards translated out of High Dutch into English by Dr. Antony Horneck," attached to Glanville's "Sadducismus Triumphatus." The translator refers to the evidence of Baron Sparr, Ambassador from the Court of Sweden to the Court of England in 1672; and that of Baron Lyonberg, Envoy Extraordinary of the same power, both of whom attest the confession and execution of the witches. The King of Sweden himself answered the express inquiries of the Duke of Holstein with marked reserve. "His judges and commissioners," he said, "had caused divers men, women, and children, to be burnt and executed on such pregnant evidence as was brought before them. But whether the actions confessed and proved against them were real, or only the effects of strong imagination, he was not as yet able to determine"--a sufficient reason, perhaps, why punishment should have been at least deferred by the interposition of the royal authority. We must now turn our eyes to Britain, in which our knowledge as to such events is necessarily more extensive, and where it is in a high degree more interesting to our present purpose. LETTER VIII. The Effects of the Witch Superstition are to be traced in the Laws of a Kingdom--Usually punished in England as a Crime connected with Politics--Attempt at Murder for Witchcraft not in itself Capital--Trials of Persons of Rank for Witchcraft, connected with State Crimes--Statutes of Henry VIII--How Witchcraft was regarded by the three Leading Sects of Religion in the Sixteenth Century; first, by the Catholics; second, by the Calvinists; third, by the Church of England and Lutherans--Impostures unwarily countenanced by individual Catholic Priests, and also by some Puritanic Clergymen--Statute of 1562, and some cases upon it--Case of Dugdale--Case of the Witches of Warbois, and the execution of the Family of Samuel--That of Jane Wenham, in which some Church of England Clergymen insisted on the Prosecution--Hutchison's Rebuke to them--James the First's Opinion of Witchcraft--His celebrated Statute, 1 Jac. I.--Canon passed by the Convocation against Possession--Case of Mr. Fairfax's Children--Lancashire Witches in 1613--Another Discovery in 1634--Webster's Account of the manner in which the Imposture was managed--Superiority of the Calvinists is followed by a severe Prosecution of Witches--Executions in Suffolk, &c. to a dreadful extent--Hopkins, the pretended Witchfinder, the cause of these Cruelties--His Brutal Practices--His Letter--Execution of Mr. Lowis--Hopkins Punished--Restoration of Charles--Trial of Coxe--Of Dunny and Callendar before Lord Hales--Royal Society and Progress of Knowledge--Somersetshire Witches--Opinions of the Populace--A Woman Swum for Witchcraft at Oakly--- Murder at Tring--Act against Witchcraft abolished, and the belief in the Crime becomes forgotten--Witch Trials in New England--Dame Glover's Trial--Affliction of the Parvises, and frightful Increase of the Prosecutions--Suddenly put a stop to--The Penitence of those concerned in them. Our account of Demonology in England must naturally, as in every other country, depend chiefly on the instances which history contains of the laws and prosecutions against witchcraft. Other superstitions arose and decayed, were dreaded or despised, without greater embarrassment, in the provinces in which they have a temporary currency, than that cowards and children go out more seldom at night, while the reports of ghosts and fairies are peculiarly current. But when the alarm of witchcraft arises, Superstition dips her hand in the blood of the persons accused, and records in the annals of jurisprudence their trials and the causes alleged in vindication of their execution. Respecting other fantastic allegations, the proof is necessarily transient and doubtful, depending upon the inaccurate testimony of vague report and of doting tradition. But in cases of witchcraft we have before us the recorded evidence upon which judge and jury acted, and can form an opinion with some degree of certainty of the grounds, real or fanciful, on which they acquitted or condemned. It is, therefore, in tracing, this part of Demonology, with its accompanying circumstances, that we have the best chance of obtaining an accurate view of our subject. The existence of witchcraft was, no doubt, received and credited in England, as in the countries on the Continent, and originally punished accordingly. But after the fourteenth century the practices which fell under such a description were thought unworthy of any peculiar animadversion, unless they were connected with something which would have been of itself a capital crime, by whatever means it had been either essayed or accomplished. Thus the supposed paction between a witch and the demon was perhaps deemed in itself to have terrors enough to prevent its becoming an ordinary crime, and was not, therefore, visited with any statutory penalty. But to attempt or execute bodily harm to others through means of evil spirits, or, in a word, by the black art, was actionable at common law as much as if the party accused had done the same harm with an arrow or pistol-shot. The destruction or abstraction of goods by the like instruments, supposing the charge proved, would, in like manner, be punishable. _A fortiori_, the consulting soothsayers, familiar spirits, or the like, and the obtaining and circulating pretended prophecies to the unsettlement of the State and the endangering of the King's title, is yet a higher degree of guilt. And it may be remarked that the inquiry into the date of the King's life bears a close affinity with the desiring or compassing the death of the Sovereign, which is the essence of high treason. Upon such charges repeated trials took place in the courts of the English, and condemnations were pronounced, with sufficient justice, no doubt, where the connexion between the resort to sorcerers and the design to perpetrate a felony could be clearly proved. We would not, indeed, be disposed to go the length of so high an authority as Selden, who pronounces (in his "Table-Talk") that if a man heartily believed that he could take the life of another by waving his hat three times and crying Buzz! and should, under this fixed opinion, wave his hat and cry Buzz! accordingly, he ought to be executed as a murderer. But a false prophecy of the King's death is not to be dealt with exactly on the usual principle; because, however idle in itself, the promulgation of such a prediction has, in times such as we are speaking of, a strong tendency to work its completion. Many persons, and some of great celebrity, suffered for the charge of trafficking with witches, to the prejudice of those in authority. We have already mentioned the instance of the Duchess of Gloucester, in Henry the Sixth's reign, and that of the Queen Dowager's kinsmen, in the Protectorate of Richard, afterwards the Third. In 1521, the Duke of Buckingham was beheaded, owing much to his having listened to the predictions of one Friar Hopkins. In the same reign, the Maid of Kent, who had been esteemed a prophetess, was put to death as a cheat. She suffered with seven persons who had managed her fits for the support of the Catholic religion, and confessed her fraud upon the scaffold. About seven years after this, Lord Hungerford was beheaded for consulting certain soothsayers concerning the length of Henry the Eighth's life. But these cases rather relate to the purpose for which the sorcery was employed, than to the fact of using it. Two remarkable statutes were passed in the year 1541; one against false prophecies, the other against the act of conjuration, witchcraft, and sorcery, and at the same time against breaking and destroying crosses. The former enactment was certainly made to ease the suspicious and wayward fears of the tetchy King Henry. The prohibition against witchcraft might be also dictated by the king's jealous doubts of hazard to the succession. The enactment against breaking crosses was obviously designed to check the ravages of the Reformers, who in England as well as elsewhere desired to sweep away Popery with the besom of destruction. This latter statute was abrogated in the first year of Edward VI., perhaps as placing an undue restraint on the zeal of good Protestants against idolatry. At length, in 1562, a formal statute against sorcery, as penal in itself, was actually passed; but as the penalty was limited to the pillory for the first transgression, the legislature probably regarded those who might be brought to trial as impostors rather than wizards. There are instances of individuals tried and convicted as impostors and cheats, and who acknowledged themselves such before the court and people; but in their articles of visitation the prelates directed enquiry to be made after those who should use enchantments, witchcraft, sorcery, or any like craft, _invented by the devil_. But it is here proper to make a pause for the purpose of enquiring in what manner the religious disputes which occupied all Europe about this time influenced the proceedings of the rival sects in relation to Demonology. The Papal Church had long reigned by the proud and absolute humour which she had assumed, of maintaining every doctrine which her rulers had adopted in dark ages; but this pertinacity at length made her citadel too large to be defended at every point by a garrison whom prudence would have required to abandon positions which had been taken in times of darkness, and were unsuited to the warfare of a more enlightened age. The sacred motto of the Vatican was, "_Vestigia nulla retrorsum_;" and this rendered it impossible to comply with the more wise and moderate of her own party, who would otherwise have desired to make liberal concessions to the Protestants, and thus prevent, in its commencement, a formidable schism in the Christian world. To the system of Rome the Calvinists offered the most determined opposition, affecting upon every occasion and on all points to observe an order of church-government, as well as of worship, expressly in the teeth of its enactments;--in a word, to be a good Protestant, they held it almost essential to be in all things diametrically opposite to the Catholic form and faith. As the foundation of this sect was laid in republican states, as its clerical discipline was settled on a democratic basis, and as the countries which adopted that form of government were chiefly poor, the preachers having lost the rank and opulence enjoyed by the Roman Church, were gradually thrown on the support of the people. Insensibly they became occupied with the ideas and tenets natural to the common people, which, if they have usually the merit of being honestly conceived and boldly expressed, are not the less often adopted with credulity and precipitation, and carried into effect with unhesitating harshness and severity. Betwixt these extremes the Churchmen of England endeavoured to steer a middle course, retaining a portion of the ritual and forms of Rome, as in themselves admirable, and at any rate too greatly venerated by the people to be changed merely for opposition's sake. Their comparatively undilapidated revenue, the connexion of their system with the state, with views of ambition as ample as the station of a churchman ought to command, rendered them independent of the necessity of courting their flocks by any means save regular discharge of their duty; and the excellent provisions made for their education afforded them learning to confute ignorance and enlighten prejudice. Such being the general character of the three Churches, their belief in and persecution of such crimes as witchcraft and sorcery were necessarily modelled upon the peculiar tenets which each system professed, and gave rise to various results in the countries where they were severally received. The Church of Rome, as we have seen, was unwilling, in her period of undisputed power, to call in the secular arm to punish men for witchcraft--a crime which fell especially under ecclesiastical cognizance, and could, according to her belief, be subdued by the spiritual arm alone. The learned men at the head of the establishment might safely despise the attempt at those hidden arts as impossible; or, even if they were of a more credulous disposition, they might be unwilling to make laws by which their own enquiries in the mathematics, algebra, chemistry, and other pursuits vulgarly supposed to approach the confines of magic art, might be inconveniently restricted. The more selfish part of the priesthood might think that a general belief in the existence of witches should be permitted to remain, as a source both of power and of revenue--that if there were no possessions, there could be no exorcism-fees--and, in short, that a wholesome faith in all the absurdities of the vulgar creed as to supernatural influences was necessary to maintain the influence of Diana of Ephesus. They suffered spells to be manufactured, since every friar had the power of reversing them; they permitted poison to be distilled, because every convent had the antidote, which was disposed of to all who chose to demand it. It was not till the universal progress of heresy, in the end of the fifteenth century, that the bull of Pope Innocent VIII., already quoted, called to convict, imprison, and condemn the sorcerers, chiefly because it was the object to transfer the odium of these crimes to the Waldenses, and excite and direct the public hatred against the new sect by confounding their doctrines with the influences of the devil and his fiends. The bull of Pope Innocent was afterwards, in the year 1523, enforced by Adrian VI. with a new one, in which excommunication was directed against _sorcerers and heretics_. While Rome thus positively declared herself against witches and sorcerers, the Calvinists, in whose numbers must be included the greater part of the English Puritans, who, though they had not finally severed from the communion of the Anglican Church, yet disapproved of her ritual and ceremonies as retaining too much of the Papal stamp, ranked themselves, in accordance with their usual policy, in diametrical opposition to the doctrine of the Mother Church. They assumed in the opposite sense whatever Rome pretended to as a proof of her omnipotent authority. The exorcisms, forms, and rites, by which good Catholics believed that incarnate fiends could be expelled and evil spirits of every kind rebuked--these, like the holy water, the robes of the priest, and the sign of the cross, the Calvinists considered either with scorn and contempt as the tools of deliberate quackery and imposture, or with horror and loathing, as the fit emblems and instruments of an idolatrous system. Such of them as did not absolutely deny the supernatural powers of which the Romanists made boast, regarded the success of the exorcising priest, to whatever extent they admitted it, as at best a casting out of devils by the power of Beelzebub, the King of the Devils. They saw also, and resented bitterly, the attempt to confound any dissent from the doctrines of Rome with the proneness to an encouragement of rites of sorcery. On the whole, the Calvinists, generally speaking, were of all the contending sects the most suspicious of sorcery, the most undoubting believers in its existence, and the most eager to follow it up with what they conceived to be the due punishment of the most fearful of crimes. The leading divines of the Church of England were, without doubt, fundamentally as much opposed to the doctrines of Rome as those who altogether disclaimed opinions and ceremonies merely because she had entertained them. But their position in society tended strongly to keep them from adopting, on such subjects as we are now discussing, either the eager credulity of the vulgar mind or the fanatic ferocity of their Calvinistic rivals. We have no purpose to discuss the matter in detail--enough has probably been said to show generally why the Romanist should have cried out a miracle respecting an incident which the Anglican would have contemptuously termed an imposture; while the Calvinist, inspired with a darker zeal, and, above all, with the unceasing desire of open controversy with the Catholics, would have styled the same event an operation of the devil. It followed that, while the divines of the Church of England possessed the upper hand in the kingdom, witchcraft, though trials and even condemnations for that offence occasionally occurred, did not create that epidemic terror which the very suspicion of the offence carried with it elsewhere; so that Reginald Scot and others alleged it was the vain pretences and empty forms of the Church of Rome, by the faith reposed in them, which had led to the belief of witchcraft or sorcery in general. Nor did prosecutions on account of such charges frequently involve a capital punishment, while learned judges were jealous of the imperfection of the evidence to support the charge, and entertained a strong and growing suspicion that legitimate grounds for such trials seldom actually existed. On the other hand, it usually happened that wherever the Calvinist interest became predominant in Britain, a general persecution of sorcerers and witches seemed to take place of consequence. Fearing and hating sorcery more than other Protestants, connecting its ceremonies and usages with those of the detested Catholic Church, the Calvinists were more eager than other sects in searching after the traces of this crime, and, of course, unusually successful, as they might suppose, in making discoveries of guilt, and pursuing it to the expiation of the fagot. In a word, a principle already referred to by Dr. Francis Hutchison will be found to rule the tide and the reflux of such cases in the different churches. The numbers of witches, and their supposed dealings with Satan, will increase or decrease according as such doings are accounted probable or impossible. Under the former supposition, charges and convictions will be found augmented in a terrific degree. When the accusations are disbelieved and dismissed as not worthy of attention, the crime becomes unfrequent, ceases to occupy the public mind, and affords little trouble to the judges. The passing of Elizabeth's statute against witchcraft in 1562 does not seem to have been intended to increase the number of trials, or cases of conviction at least; and the fact is, it did neither the one nor the other. Two children were tried in 1574 for counterfeiting possession, and stood in the pillory for impostors. Mildred Norrington, called the Maid of Westwell, furnished another instance of possession; but she also confessed her imposture, and publicly showed her fits and tricks of mimicry. The strong influence already possessed by the Puritans may probably be sufficient to account for the darker issue of certain cases, in which both juries and judges in Elizabeth's time must be admitted to have shown fearful severity. These cases of possession were in some respects sore snares to the priests of the Church of Rome, who, while they were too sagacious not to be aware that the pretended fits, contortions, strange sounds, and other extravagances, produced as evidence of the demon's influence on the possessed person, were nothing else than marks of imposture by some idle vagabond, were nevertheless often tempted to admit them as real, and take the credit of curing them. The period was one when the Catholic Church had much occasion to rally around her all the respect that remained to her in a schismatic and heretical kingdom; and when her fathers and doctors announced the existence of such a dreadful disease, and of the power of the church's prayers, relics, and ceremonies, to cure it, it was difficult for a priest, supposing him more tender of the interest of his order than that of truth, to avoid such a tempting opportunity as a supposed case of possession offered for displaying the high privilege in which his profession made him a partaker, or to abstain from conniving at the imposture, in order to obtain for his church the credit of expelling the demon. It was hardly to be wondered at, if the ecclesiastic was sometimes induced to aid the fraud of which such motives forbade him to be the detector. At this he might hesitate the less, as he was not obliged to adopt the suspected and degrading course of holding an immediate communication _in limine_ with the impostor, since a hint or two, dropped in the supposed sufferer's presence, might give him the necessary information what was the most exact mode of performing his part, and if the patient was possessed by a devil of any acuteness or dexterity, he wanted no further instruction how to play it. Such combinations were sometimes detected, and brought more discredit on the Church of Rome than was counterbalanced by any which might be more cunningly managed. On this subject the reader may turn to Dr. Harsnett's celebrated book on Popish Impostures, wherein he gives the history of several notorious cases of detected fraud, in which Roman ecclesiastics had not hesitated to mingle themselves. That of Grace Sowerbutts, instructed by a Catholic priest to impeach her grandmother of witchcraft, was a very gross fraud. Such cases were not, however, limited to the ecclesiastics of Rome. We have already stated that, as extremes usually approach each other, the Dissenters, in their violent opposition to the Papists, adopted some of their ideas respecting demoniacs; and we have now to add that they also claimed, by the vehemence of prayer and the authority of their own sacred commission, that power of expelling devils which the Church of Rome pretended to exercise by rites, ceremonies, and relics. The memorable case of Richard Dugdale, called the Surrey Impostor, was one of the most remarkable which the Dissenters brought forward. This youth was supposed to have sold his soul to the devil, on condition of being made the best dancer in Lancashire, and during his possession played a number of fantastic tricks, not much different from those exhibited by expert posture-masters of the present day. This person threw himself into the hands of the Dissenters, who, in their eagerness, caught at an opportunity to relieve an afflicted person, whose case the regular clergy appeared to have neglected. They fixed a committee of their number, who weekly attended the supposed sufferer, and exercised themselves in appointed days of humiliation and fasting during the course of a whole year. All respect for the demon seems to have abandoned the reverend gentlemen, after they had relieved guard in this manner for some little time, and they got so regardless of Satan as to taunt him with the mode in which he executed his promise to teach his vassal dancing. The following specimen of raillery is worth commemoration:--"What, Satan! is this the dancing that Richard gave himself to thee for? &c. Canst thou dance no better? &c. Ransack the old records of all past times and places in thy memory; canst thou not there find out some better way of trampling? Pump thine invention dry; cannot the universal seed-plot of subtile wiles and stratagems spring up one new method of cutting capers? Is this the top of skill and pride, to shuffle feet and brandish knees thus, and to trip like a doe and skip like a squirrel? And wherein differ thy leapings from the hoppings of a frog, or the bouncings of a goat, or friskings of a dog, or gesticulations of a monkey? And cannot a palsy shake such a loose leg as that? Dost thou not twirl like a calf that hath the turn, and twitch up thy houghs just like a springhault tit?"[54] One might almost conceive the demon replying to this raillery in the words of Dr. Johnson, "This merriment of parsons is extremely offensive." [Footnote 54: Hutchison on Witchcraft, p. 162.] The dissenters were probably too honest, however simple, to achieve a complete cure on Dugdale by an amicable understanding; so, after their year of vigil, they relinquished their task by degrees. Dugdale, weary of his illness, which now attracted little notice, attended a regular physician, and was cured of that part of his disease which was not affected in a regular way _par ordonnance du médecin_. But the reverend gentlemen who had taken his case in hand still assumed the credit of curing him, and if anything could have induced them to sing _Te Deum_, it would have been this occasion. They said that the effect of their public prayers had been for a time suspended, until seconded by the continued earnestness of their private devotions! The ministers of the Church of England, though, from education, intercourse with the world, and other advantages, they were less prone to prejudice than those of other sects, are yet far from being entirely free of the charge of encouraging in particular instances the witch superstition. Even while Dr. Hutchison pleads that the Church of England has the least to answer for in that matter, he is under the necessity of acknowledging that some regular country clergymen so far shared the rooted prejudices of congregations, and of the government which established laws against it, as to be active in the persecution of the suspected, and even in countenancing the superstitious signs by which in that period the vulgar thought it possible to ascertain the existence of the afflictions by witchcraft, and obtain the knowledge of the perpetrator. A singular case is mentioned of three women, called the Witches of Warbois. Indeed, their story is a matter of solemn enough record; for Sir Samuel Cromwell, having received the sum of forty pounds as lord of the manor, out of the estate of the poor persons who suffered, turned it into a rent-charge of forty shillings yearly, for the endowment of an annual lecture on the subject of witchcraft, to be preached by a doctor or bachelor of divinity of Queen's College, Cambridge. The accused, one Samuel and his wife, were old and very poor persons, and their daughter a young woman. The daughter of a Mr. Throgmorton, seeing the poor old woman in a black knitted cap, at a time when she was not very well, took a whim that she had bewitched her, and was ever after exclaiming against her. The other children of this fanciful family caught up the same cry, and the eldest of them at last got up a vastly pretty drama, in which she herself furnished all the scenes and played all the parts. Such imaginary scenes, or _make-believe_ stories, are the common amusement of lively children; and most readers may remember having had some Utopia of their own. But the nursery drama of Miss Throgmorton had a horrible conclusion. This young lady and her sisters were supposed to be haunted by nine spirits, dispatched by the wicked Mother Samuel for that purpose. The sapient parents heard one part of the dialogue, when the children in their fits returned answers, as was supposed, to the spirits who afflicted them; and when the patients from time to time recovered, they furnished the counterpart by telling what the spirits had said to them. The names of the spirits were Pluck, Hardname, Catch, Blue, and three Smacks, who were cousins. Mrs. Joan Throgmorton, the eldest (who, like other young women of her age, about fifteen, had some disease on her nerves, and whose fancy ran apparently on love and gallantry), supposed that one of the Smacks was her lover, did battle for her with the less friendly spirits, and promised to protect her against Mother Samuel herself; and the following curious extract will show on what a footing of familiarity the damsel stood with her spiritual gallant: "From whence come you, Mr. Smack?" says the afflicted young lady; "and what news do you bring?" Smack, nothing abashed, informed her he came from fighting with Pluck: the weapons, great cowl-staves; the scene, a ruinous bakehouse in Dame Samuel's yard. "And who got the mastery, I pray you?" said the damsel. Smack answered, he had broken Pluck's head. "I would," said the damsel, "he had broken your neck also." "Is that the thanks I am to have for my labour?" said the disappointed Smack. "Look you for thanks at my hand?" said the distressed maiden. "I would you were all hanged up against each other, with your dame for company, for you are all naught." On this repulse, exit Smack, and enter Pluck, Blue, and Catch, the first with his head broken, the other limping, and the third with his arm in a sling, all trophies of Smack's victory. They disappeared after having threatened vengeance upon the conquering Smack. However, he soon afterwards appeared with his laurels. He told her of his various conflicts. "I wonder," said Mrs. Joan, or Jane, "that you are able to beat them; you are little, and they very big." "He cared not for that," he replied; "he would beat the best two of them, and his cousins Smacks would beat the other two." This most pitiful mirth, for such it certainly is, was mixed with tragedy enough. Miss Throgmorton and her sisters railed against Darne Samuel; and when Mr. Throgmorton brought her to his house by force, the little fiends longed to draw blood of her, scratch her, and torture her, as the witch-creed of that period recommended; yet the poor woman incurred deeper suspicion when she expressed a wish to leave a house where she was so coarsely treated and lay under such odious suspicions. It was in vain that this unhappy creature endeavoured to avert their resentment by submitting to all the ill-usage they chose to put upon her; in vain that she underwent unresistingly the worst usage at the hand of Lady Cromwell, her landlady, who, abusing her with the worst epithets, tore her cap from her head, clipped out some of her hair, and gave it to Mrs. Throgmorton to burn it for a counter-charm. Nay, Mother Samuel's complaisance in the latter case only led to a new charge. It happened that the Lady Cromwell, on her return home, dreamed of her day's work, and especially of the old dame and her cat; and, as her ladyship died in a _year and quarter_ from that very day, it was sagaciously concluded that she must have fallen a victim to the witcheries of the terrible Dame Samuel. Mr. Throgmorton also compelled the old woman and her daughter to use expressions which put their lives in the power of these malignant children, who had carried on the farce so long that they could not well escape from their own web of deceit but by the death of these helpless creatures. For example, the prisoner, Dame Samuel, was induced to say to the supposed spirit, "As I am a witch, and a causer of Lady Cromwell's death, I charge thee to come out of the maiden." The girl lay still; and this was accounted a proof that the poor woman, who, only subdued and crushed by terror and tyranny, did as she was bidden, was a witch. One is ashamed of an English judge and jury when it must be repeated that the evidence of these enthusiastic and giddy-pated girls was deemed sufficient to the condemnation of three innocent persons. Goody Samuel, indeed, was at length worried into a confession of her guilt by the various vexations which were practised on her. But her husband and daughter continued to maintain their innocence. The last showed a high spirit and proud value for her character. She was advised by some, who pitied her youth, to gain at least a respite by pleading pregnancy; to which she answered disdainfully, "No, I will not be both held witch and strumpet!" The mother, to show her sanity of mind and the real value of her confession, caught at the advice recommended to her daughter. As her years put such a plea out of the question, there was a laugh among the unfeeling audience, in which the poor old victim joined loudly and heartily. Some there were who thought it no joking matter, and were inclined to think they had a Joanna Southcote before them, and that the devil must be the father. These unfortunate Samuels were condemned at Huntingdon, before Mr. Justice Fenner, 4th April, 1593. It was a singular case to be commemorated by an annual lecture, as provided by Sir Samuel Cromwell, for the purposes of justice were never so perverted, nor her sword turned to a more flagrant murder. We may here mention, though mainly for the sake of contrast, the much-disputed case of Jane Wenham, the Witch of Walkerne, as she was termed, which was of a much later date. Some of the country clergy were carried away by the land-flood of superstition in this instance also and not only encouraged the charge, but gave their countenance to some of the ridiculous and indecent tricks resorted to as proofs of witchcraft by the lowest vulgar. But the good sense of the judge, seconded by that of other reflecting and sensible persons, saved the country from the ultimate disgrace attendant on too many of these unhallowed trials. The usual sort of evidence was brought against this poor woman, by pretences of bewitched persons vomiting fire--a trick very easy to those who chose to exhibit such a piece of jugglery amongst such as rather desire to be taken in by it than to detect the imposture. The witchfinder practised upon her the most vulgar and ridiculous tricks or charms; and out of a perverted examination they drew what they called a confession, though of a forced and mutilated character. Under such proof the jury brought her in guilty, and she was necessarily condemned to die. More fortunate, however, than many persons placed in the like circumstances, Jane Wenham was tried before a sensible and philosophic judge, who could not understand that the life of an Englishwoman, however mean, should be taken away by a set of barbarous tricks and experiments, the efficacy of which depended on popular credulity. He reprieved the witch before he left the assize-town. The rest of the history is equally a contrast to some we have told and others we shall have to recount. A humane and high-spirited gentleman, Colonel Plummer of Gilston, putting at defiance popular calumny, placed the poor old woman in a small house near his own and under his immediate protection. Here she lived and died, in honest and fair reputation, edifying her visitors by her accuracy and attention in repeating her devotions; and, removed from her brutal and malignant neighbours, never afterwards gave the slightest cause of suspicion or offence till her dying day. As this was one of the last cases of conviction in England, Dr Hutchison has been led to dilate upon it with some strength of eloquence as well as argument. He thus expostulates with some of the better class who were eager for the prosecution:--"(1) What single fact of sorcery did this Jane Wenham do? What charm did she use, or what act of witchcraft could you prove upon her? Laws are against evil actions that can be proved to be of the person's doing. What single fact that was against the statute could you fix upon her? I ask (2) Did she so much as speak an imprudent word, or do an immoral action, that you could put into the narrative of her case? When she was denied a few turnips, she laid them down very submissively; when she was called witch and bitch, she only took the proper means for the vindication of her good name; when she saw this storm coming upon her she locked herself in her own house and tried to keep herself out of your cruel hands; when her door was broken open, and you gave way to that barbarous usage that she met with, she protested her innocence, fell upon her knees, and begged she might not go to gaol, and, in her innocent simplicity, would have let you swim her; and at her trial she declared herself a clear woman. This was her behaviour. And what could any of us have done better, excepting in that case where she complied with you too much, and offered to let you swim her? "(3) When you used the meanest of paganish and popish superstitions--when you scratched and mangled and ran pins into her flesh, and used that ridiculous trial of the bottle, &c.--whom did you consult, and from whom did you expect your answers? Who was your father? and into whose hands did you put yourselves? and (if the true sense of the statute had been turned upon you) which way would you have defended yourselves? (4) Durst you have used her in this manner if she had been rich? and doth not her poverty increase rather than lessen your guilt in what you did? "And therefore, instead of closing your book with a _liberavimus animas nostras_, and reflecting upon the court, I ask you (5) Whether you have not more reason to give God thanks that you met with a wise judge, and a sensible gentleman, who kept you from shedding innocent blood, and reviving the meanest and cruelest of all superstitions amongst us?"[55] [Footnote 55: Hutchison's "Essay on Witchcraft," p. 166.] But although individuals of the English Church might on some occasions be justly accused of falling into lamentable errors on a subject where error was so general, it was not an usual point of their professional character; and it must be admitted that the most severe of the laws against witchcraft originated with a Scottish King of England, and that the only extensive persecution following that statute occurred during the time of the Civil Wars, when the Calvinists obtained for a short period a predominating influence in the councils of Parliament. James succeeded to Elizabeth amidst the highest expectations on the part of his new people, who, besides their general satisfaction at coming once more under the rule of a king, were also proud of his supposed abilities and real knowledge of books and languages, and were naturally, though imprudently, disposed to gratify him by deferring to his judgment in matters wherein his studies were supposed to have rendered him a special proficient. Unfortunately, besides the more harmless freak of becoming a prentice in the art of poetry, by which words and numbers were the only sufferers, the monarch had composed a deep work upon Demonology, embracing in their fullest extent the most absurd and gross of the popular errors on this subject. He considered his crown and life as habitually aimed at by the sworn slaves of Satan. Several had been executed for an attempt to poison him by magical arts; and the turbulent Francis Stewart, Earl of Bothwell, whose repeated attempts on his person had long been James's terror, had begun his course of rebellion by a consultation with the weird sisters and soothsayers. Thus the king, who had proved with his pen the supposed sorcerers to be the direct enemies of the Deity, and who conceived he knew them from experience to be his own--who, moreover, had upon much lighter occasions (as in the case of Vorstius) showed no hesitation at throwing his royal authority into the scale to aid his arguments--very naturally used his influence, when it was at the highest, to extend and enforce the laws against a crime which he both hated and feared. The English statute against witchcraft, passed in the very first year of that reign, is therefore of a most special nature, describing witchcraft by all the various modes and ceremonies in which, according to King James's fancy, that crime could be perpetrated; each of which was declared felony, without benefit of clergy. This gave much wider scope to prosecution on the statute than had existed under the milder acts of Elizabeth. Men might now be punished for the practice of witchcraft, as itself a crime, without necessary reference to the ulterior objects of the perpetrator. It is remarkable that in the same year, when the legislature rather adopted the passions and fears of the king than expressed their own by this fatal enactment, the Convocation of the Church evinced a very different spirit; for, seeing the ridicule brought on their sacred profession by forward and presumptuous men, in the attempt to relieve demoniacs from a disease which was commonly occasioned by natural causes, if not the mere creature of imposture, they passed a canon, establishing that no minister or ministers should in future attempt to expel any devil or devils, without the license of his bishop; thereby virtually putting a stop to a fertile source of knavery among the people, and disgraceful folly among the inferior churchmen. The new statute of James does not, however, appear to have led at first to many prosecutions. One of the most remarkable was (_proh pudor!_) instigated by a gentleman, a scholar of classical taste, and a beautiful poet, being no other than Edward Fairfax of Fayston, in Knaresborough Forest, the translator of Tasso's "Jerusalem Delivered." In allusion to his credulity on such subjects, Collins has introduced the following elegant lines:-- "How have I sate while piped the pensive wind, To hear thy harp, by British Fairfax strung; Prevailing poet, whose undoubting mind Believed the magic wonders which he sung!" Like Mr. Throgmorton in the Warbois case, Mr. Fairfax accused six of his neighbours of tormenting his children by fits of an extraordinary kind, by imps, and by appearing before the afflicted in their own shape during the crisis of these operations. The admitting this last circumstance to be a legitimate mode of proof, gave a most cruel advantage against the accused, for it could not, according to the ideas of the demonologists, be confuted even by the most distinct _alibi_. To a defence of that sort it was replied that the afflicted person did not see the actual witch, whose corporeal presence must indeed have been obvious to every one in the room as well as to the afflicted, but that the evidence of the sufferers related to the appearance of their _spectre_, or apparition; and this was accounted a sure sign of guilt in those whose forms were so manifested during the fits of the afflicted, and who were complained of and cried out upon by the victim. The obvious tendency of this doctrine, as to visionary or spectral evidence, as it was called, was to place the life and fame of the accused in the power of any hypochondriac patient or malignant impostor, who might either seem to see, or aver she saw, the _spectrum_ of the accused old man or old woman, as if enjoying and urging on the afflictions which she complained of; and, strange to tell, the fatal sentence was to rest, not upon the truth of the witnesses' eyes, but that of their imagination. It happened fortunately for Fairfax's memory, that the objects of his prosecution were persons of good character, and that the judge was a man of sense, and made so wise and skilful a charge to the jury, that they brought in a verdict of not guilty. The celebrated case of "the Lancashire witches" (whose name was and will be long remembered, partly from Shadwell's play, but more from the ingenious and well-merited compliment to the beauty of the females of that province which it was held to contain), followed soon after. Whether the first notice of this sorcery sprung from the idle head of a mischievous boy, is uncertain; but there is no doubt that it was speedily caught up and fostered for the purpose of gain. The original story ran thus:-- These Lancaster trials were at two periods, the one in 1613, before Sir James Altham and Sir Edward Bromley, Barons of Exchequer, when nineteen witches were tried at once at Lancaster, and another of the name of Preston at York. The report against these people is drawn up by Thomas Potts. An obliging correspondent sent me a sight of a copy of this curious and rare book. The chief personage in the drama is Elizabeth Southam, a witch redoubted under the name of Dembdike, an account of whom may be seen in Mr. Roby's "Antiquities of Lancaster," as well as a description of Maulkins' Tower, the witches' place of meeting. It appears that this remote county was full of Popish recusants, travelling priests, and so forth; and some of their spells are given in which the holy names and things alluded to form a strange contrast with the purpose to which they were applied, as to secure a good brewing of ale or the like. The public imputed to the accused parties a long train of murders, conspiracies, charms, mischances, hellish and damnable practices, "apparent," says the editor, "on their own examinations and confessions," and, to speak the truth, visible nowhere else. Mother Dembdike had the good luck to die before conviction. Among other tales, we have one of two _female_ devils, called Fancy and Tib. It is remarkable that some of the unfortunate women endeavoured to transfer the guilt from themselves to others with whom they had old quarrels, which confessions were held good evidence against those who made them, and against the alleged accomplice also. Several of the unhappy women were found not guilty, to the great displeasure of the ignorant people of the county. Such was the first edition of the Lancashire witches. In that which follows the accusation can be more clearly traced to the most villanous conspiracy. About 1634 a boy called Edmund Robinson, whose father, a very poor man, dwelt in Pendle Forest, the scene of the alleged witching, declared that while gathering _bullees_ (wild plums, perhaps) in one of the glades of the forest, he saw two greyhounds, which he imagined to belong to gentlemen in that neighbourhood. The boy reported that, seeing nobody following them, he proposed to have a course; but though a hare was started, the dogs refused to run. On this, young Robinson was about to punish them with a switch, when one Dame Dickenson, a neighbour's wife, started up instead of the one greyhound; a little boy instead of the other. The witness averred that Mother Dickenson offered him money to conceal what he had seen, which he refused, saying "Nay, thou art a witch." Apparently she was determined he should have full evidence of the truth of what he said, for, like the Magician Queen in the Arabian Tales, she pulled out of her pocket a bridle and shook it over the head of the boy who had so lately represented the other greyhound. He was directly changed into a horse; Mother Dickenson mounted, and took Robinson before her. They then rode to a large house or barn called Hourstoun, into which Edmund Robinson entered with others. He there saw six or seven persons pulling at halters, from which, as they pulled them, meat ready dressed came flying in quantities, together with lumps of butter, porringers of milk, and whatever else might, in the boy's fancy, complete a rustic feast. He declared that while engaged in the charm they made such ugly faces and looked so fiendish that he was frightened. There was more to the same purpose--as the boy's having seen one of these hags sitting half-way up his father's chimney, and some such goodly matter. But it ended in near a score of persons being committed to prison; and the consequence was that young Robinson was carried from church to church in the neighbourhood, that he might recognise the faces of any persons he had seen at the rendezvous of witches. Old Robinson, who had been an evidence against the former witches in 1613, went along with his son, and knew, doubtless, how to make his journey profitable; and his son probably took care to recognise none who might make a handsome consideration. "This boy," says Webster, "was brought into the church at Kildwick, a parish church, where I, being then curate there, was preaching at the time, to look about him, which made some little disturbance for the time." After prayers Mr. Webster sought and found the boy, and two very unlikely persons, who, says he, "did conduct him and manage the business: I did desire some discourse with the boy in private, but that they utterly denied. In the presence of a great many many people I took the boy near me and said, 'Good boy, tell me truly and in earnest, didst thou hear and see such strange things of the motions of the witches as many do report that thou didst relate, or did not some person teach thee to say such things of thyself?' But the two men did pluck the boy from me, and said he had been examined by two able justices of peace, and they never asked him such a question. To whom I replied, 'The persons accused had the more wrong.'" The boy afterwards acknowledged, in his more advanced years, that he was instructed and suborned to swear these things against the accused persons by his father and others, and was heard often to confess that on the day which he pretended to see the said witches at the house or barn, he was gathering plums in a neighbour's orchard.[56] [Footnote 56: Webster on Witchcraft, edition 1677, p. 278.] There was now approaching a time when the law against witchcraft, sufficiently bloody in itself, was to be pushed to more violent extremities than the quiet scepticism of the Church of England clergy gave way to. The great Civil War had been preceded and anticipated by the fierce disputes of the ecclesiastical parties. The rash and ill-judged attempt to enforce upon the Scottish a compliance with the government and ceremonies of the High Church divines, and the severe prosecutions in the Star Chamber and Prerogative Courts, had given the Presbyterian system for a season a great degree of popularity in England; and as the King's party declined during the Civil War, and the state of church-government was altered, the influence of the Calvinistic divines increased. With much strict morality and pure practice of religion, it is to be regretted these were still marked by unhesitating belief in the existence of sorcery, and a keen desire to extend and enforce the legal penalties against it. Wier has considered the clergy of every sect as being too eager in this species of persecution: _Ad gravem hanc impietatem, connivent theologi plerique omnes_. But it is not to be denied that the Presbyterian ecclesiastics who, in Scotland, were often appointed by the Privy Council Commissioners for the trial of witchcraft, evinced a very extraordinary degree of credulity in such cases, and that the temporary superiority of the same sect in England was marked by enormous cruelties of this kind. To this general error we must impute the misfortune that good men, such as Calamy and Baxter, should have countenanced or defended such proceedings as those of the impudent and cruel wretch called Matthew Hopkins, who, in those unsettled times, when men did what seemed good in their own eyes, assumed the title of Witchfinder General, and, travelling through the counties of Essex, Sussex, Norfolk, and Huntingdon, pretended to discover witches, superintending their examination by the most unheard-of tortures, and compelling forlorn and miserable wretches to admit and confess matters equally absurd and impossible; the issue of which was the forfeiture of their lives. Before examining these cases more minutely, I will quote Baxter's own words; for no one can have less desire to wrong a devout and conscientious man, such as that divine most unquestionably was, though borne aside on this occasion by prejudice and credulity. "The hanging of a great number of witches in 1645 and 1646 is famously known. Mr. Calamy went along with the judges on the circuit to hear their confessions, and see there was no fraud or wrong done them. I spoke with many understanding, pious, learned, and credible persons that lived in the counties, and some that went to them in the prisons, and heard their sad confessions. Among the rest an old _reading parson_, named Lowis, not far from Framlingham, was one that was hanged, who confessed that he had two imps, and that one of them was always putting him upon doing mischief; and he, being near the sea, as he saw a ship under sail, it moved him to send it to sink the ship; and he consented, and saw the ship sink before them." Mr. Baxter passes on to another story of a mother who gave her child an imp like a mole, and told her to keep it in a can near the fire, and she would never want; and more such stuff as nursery-maids tell froward children to keep them quiet. It is remarkable that in this passage Baxter names the Witchfinder General rather slightly as "one Hopkins," and without doing him the justice due to one who had discovered more than one hundred witches, and brought them to confessions, which that good man received as indubitable. Perhaps the learned divine was one of those who believed that the Witchfinder General had cheated the devil out of a certain memorandum-book, in which Satan, for the benefit of his memory certainly, had entered all the witches' names in England, and that Hopkins availed himself of this record.[57] [Footnote 57: This reproach is noticed in a very rare tract, which was bought at Mr. Lort's sale, by the celebrated collector Mr. Bindley, and is now in the author's possession. Its full title is, "The Discovery of Witches, in Answer to several Queries lately delivered to the Judge of Assize for the County of Norfolk; and now published by Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder, for the Benefit of the whole Kingdom. Printed for R. Royston, at the Angel, in Inn Lane. 1647."] It may be noticed that times of misrule and violence seem to create individuals fitted to take advantage from them, and having a character suited to the seasons which raise them into notice and action; just as a blight on any tree or vegetable calls to life a peculiar insect to feed upon and enjoy the decay which it has produced. A monster like Hopkins could only have existed during the confusion of civil dissension. He was perhaps a native of Manningtree, in Essex; at any rate, he resided there in the year 1644, when an epidemic outcry of witchcraft arose in that town. Upon this occasion he had made himself busy, and, affecting more zeal and knowledge than other men, learned his trade of a witchfinder, as he pretends, from experiment. He was afterwards permitted to perform it as a legal profession, and moved from one place to another, with an assistant named Sterne, and a female. In his defence against an accusation of fleecing the country, he declares his regular charge was twenty shillings a town, including charges of living and journeying thither and back again with his assistants. He also affirms that he went nowhere unless called and invited. His principal mode of discovery was to strip the accused persons naked, and thrust pins into various parts of their body, to discover the witch's mark, which was supposed to be inflicted by the devil as a sign of his sovereignty, and at which she was also said to suckle her imps. He also practised and stoutly defended the trial by swimming, when the suspected person was wrapped in a sheet, having the great toes and thumbs tied together, and so dragged through a pond or river. If she sank, it was received in favour of the accused; but if the body floated (which must have occurred ten times for once, if it was placed with care on the surface of the water), the accused was condemned, on the principle of King James, who, in treating of this mode of trial, lays down that, as witches have renounced their baptism, so it is just that the element through which the holy rite is enforced should reject them, which is a figure of speech, and no argument. It was Hopkins's custom to keep the poor wretches waking, in order to prevent them from having encouragement from the devil, and, doubiless, to put infirm, terrified, overwatched persons in the next state to absolute madness; and for the same purpose they were dragged about by their keepers till extreme weariness and the pain of blistered feet might form additional inducements to confession. Hopkins confesses these last practices of keeping the accused persons waking, and forcing them to walk for the same purpose, had been originally used by him. But as his tract is a professed answer to charges of cruelty and oppression, he affirms that both practices were then disused, and that they had not of late been resorted to. The boast of the English nation is a manly independence and common-sense, which will not long permit the license of tyranny or oppression on the meanest and most obscure sufferers. Many clergymen and gentlemen made head against the practices of this cruel oppressor of the defenceless, and it required courage to do so when such an unscrupulous villain had so much interest. Mr. Gaul, a clergyman, of Houghton, in Huntingdonshire, had the courage to appear in print on the weaker side; and Hopkins, in consequence, assumed the assurance to write to some functionaries of the place the following letter, which is an admirable medley of impudence, bullying, and cowardice:-- "My service to your worship presented.--I have this day received a letter to come to a town called Great Houghton to search for evil-disposed persons called witches (though I hear your minister is far against us, through ignorance). I intend to come, God willing, the sooner to hear his singular judgment in the behalf of such parties. I have known a minister in Suffolk as much against this discovery in a pulpit, and forced to recant it by the Committee[58] in the same place. I much marvel such evil men should have any (much more any of the clergy, who should daily speak terror to convince such offenders) stand up to take their parts against such as are complainants for the king, and sufferers themselves, with their families and estates. I intend to give your town a visit suddenly. I will come to Kimbolton this week, and it will be ten to one but I will come to your town first; but I would certainly know before whether your town affords many sticklers for such cattle, or is willing to give and allow us good welcome and entertainment, as others where I have been, else I shall waive your shire (not as yet beginning in any part of it myself), and betake me to such places where I do and may punish (not only) without control, but with thanks and recompense. So I humbly take my leave, and rest your servant to be commanded, "MATTHEW HOPKINS." [Footnote 58: Of Parliament.] The sensible and courageous Mr. Gaul describes the tortures employed by this fellow as equal to any practised in the Inquisition. "Having taken the suspected witch, she is placed in the middle of a room, upon a stool or table, cross-legged, or in some other uneasy posture, to which, if she submits not, she is then bound with cords; there she is watched and kept without meat or sleep for four-and-twenty hours, for, they say, they shall within that time see her imp come and suck. A little hole is likewise made in the door for the imps to come in at; and lest they should come in some less discernible shape, they that watch are taught to be ever and anon sweeping the room, and if they see any spiders or flies, to kill them; and if they cannot kill them, they may be sure they are their imps." If torture of this kind was applied to the Reverend Mr. Lewis, whose death is too slightly announced by Mr. Baxter, we can conceive him, or any man, to have indeed become so weary of his life as to acknowledge that, by means of his imps, he sunk a vessel, without any purpose of gratification to be procured to himself by such iniquity. But in another cause a judge would have demanded some proof of the _corpus delecti_, some evidence of a vessel being lost at the period, whence coming and whither bound; in short, something to establish that the whole story was not the idle imagination of a man who might have been entirely deranged, and certainly was so at the time he made the admission. John Lewis was presented to the vicarage of Brandiston, near Framlington, in Suffolk, 6th May, 1596, where he lived about fifty years, till executed as a wizard on such evidence as we have seen. Notwithstanding the story of his alleged confession, he defended himself courageously at his trial, and was probably condemned rather as a royalist and malignant than for any other cause. He showed at the execution considerable energy, and to secure that the funeral service of the church should be said over his body, he read it aloud for himself while on the road to the gibbet. We have seen that in 1647 Hopkins's tone became lowered, and he began to disavow some of the cruelties he had formerly practised. About the same time a miserable old woman had fallen into the cruel hands of this miscreant near Hoxne, a village in Suffolk, and had confessed all the usual enormities, after being without food or rest a sufficient time. "Her imp," she said, "was called Nan." A gentleman in the neighbourhood, whose widow survived to authenticate the story, was so indignant that he went to the house, took the woman out of such inhuman hands, dismissed the witchfinders, and after due food and rest the poor old woman could recollect nothing of the confession, but that she gave a favourite pullet the name of Nan. For this Dr. Hutchison may be referred to, who quotes a letter from the relict of the humane gentleman. In the year 1645 a Commission of Parliament was sent down, comprehending two clergymen in esteem with the leading party, one of whom, Mr. Fairclough of Kellar, preached before the rest on the subject of witchcraft; and after this appearance of enquiry the inquisitions and executions went on as before. But the popular indignation was so strongly excited against Hopkins, that some gentlemen seized on him, and put him to his own favourite experiment of swimming, on which, as he happened to float, he stood convicted of witchcraft, and so the country was rid of him. Whether he was drowned outright or not does not exactly appear, but he has had the honour to be commemorated by the author of Hudibras:-- "Hath not this present Parliament A leiger to the devil sent, Fully empower'd to treat about Finding revolted witches out? And has he not within a year Hang'd threescore of them in one shire? Some only for not being drown'd, And some for sitting above ground Whole days and nights upon their breeches, And feeling pain, were hang'd for witches. And some for putting knavish tricks Upon green geese or turkey chicks; Or pigs that suddenly deceased Of griefs unnatural, as he guess'd, Who proved himself at length a witch, And made a rod for his own breech." [59] [Footnote 59: "Hudibras," part ii. canto 3.] The understanding reader will easily conceive that this alteration of the current in favour of those who disapproved of witch-prosecutions, must have received encouragement from some quarter of weight and influence; yet it may sound strangely enough that this spirit of lenity should have been the result of the peculiar principles of those sectarians of all denominations, classed in general as Independents, who, though they had originally courted the Presbyterians as the more numerous and prevailing party, had at length shaken themselves loose of that connexion, and finally combated with and overcome them. The Independents were distinguished by the wildest license in their religious tenets, mixed with much that was nonsensical and mystical. They disowned even the title of a regular clergy, and allowed the preaching of any one who could draw together a congregation that would support him, or who was willing, without recompense, to minister to the spiritual necessities of his hearers. Although such laxity of discipline afforded scope to the wildest enthusiasm, and room for all possible varieties of doctrine, it had, on the other hand, this inestimable recommendation, that it contributed to a degree of general toleration which was at that time unknown to any other Christian establishment. The very genius of a religion which admitted of the subdivision of sects _ad infinitum_, excluded a legal prosecution of any one of these for heresy or apostasy. If there had even existed a sect of Manichæans, who made it their practice to adore the Evil Principle, it may be doubted whether the other sectaries would have accounted them absolute outcasts from the pale of the church; and, fortunately, the same sentiment induced them to regard with horror the prosecutions against witchcraft. Thus the Independents, when, under Cromwell, they attained a supremacy over the Presbyterians, who to a certain point had been their allies, were disposed to counteract the violence of such proceedings under pretence of witchcraft, as had been driven forward by the wretched Hopkins, in Essex, Norfolk, and Suffolk, for three or four years previous to 1647. The return of Charles II. to his crown and kingdom, served in some measure to restrain the general and wholesale manner in which the laws against witchcraft had been administered during the warmth of the Civil War. The statute of the 1st of King James, nevertheless, yet subsisted; nor is it in the least likely, considering the character of the prince, that he, to save the lives of a few old men or women, would have run the risk of incurring the odium of encouraging or sparing a crime still held in horror by a great part of his subjects. The statute, however, was generally administered by wise and skilful judges, and the accused had such a chance of escape as the rigour of the absurd law permitted. Nonsense, it is too obvious, remained in some cases predominant. In the year 1663 an old dame, named Julian Coxe, was convicted chiefly on the evidence of a huntsman, who declared on his oath, that he laid his greyhounds on a hare, and coming up to the spot where he saw them mouth her, there he found, on the other side of a bush, Julian Coxe lying panting and breathless, in such a manner as to convince him that she had been the creature which afforded him the course. The unhappy woman was executed on this evidence. Two years afterwards (1664), it is with regret we must quote the venerable and devout Sir Matthew Hales, as presiding at a trial, in consequence of which Amy Dunny and Rose Callender were hanged at Saint Edmondsbury. But no man, unless very peculiarly circumstanced, can extricate himself from the prejudices of his nation and age. The evidence against the accused was laid, 1st, on the effect of spells used by ignorant persons to counteract the supposed witchcraft; the use of which was, under the statute of James I., as criminal as the act of sorcery which such counter-charms were meant to neutralize, 2ndly, The two old women, refused even the privilege of purchasing some herrings, having expressed themselves with angry impatience, a child of the herring-merchant fell ill in conseqence. 3rdly, A cart was driven against the miserable cottage of Amy Dunny. She scolded, of course; and shortly after the cart--(what a good driver will scarce comprehend)--stuck fast in a gate, where its wheels touched neither of the posts, and yet was moved easily forward on one of the posts (by which it was _not_ impeded) being cut down. 4thly, One of the afflicted girls being closely muffled, went suddenly into a fit upon being touched by one of the supposed witches. But upon another trial it was found that the person so blindfolded fell into the same rage at the touch of an unsuspected person. What perhaps sealed the fate of the accused was the evidence of the celebrated Sir Thomas Browne, "that the fits were natural, but heightened by the power of the devil co-operating with the malice of witches;"--a strange opinion, certainly, from the author of a treatise on "Vulgar Errors!"[60] [Footnote 60: See the account of Sir T. Browne in No. XIV. of the "Family Library" ("Lives of British Physicians"), p. 60.] But the torch of science was now fairly lighted, and gleamed in more than one kingdom of the world, shooting its rays on every side, and catching at all means which were calculated to increase the illumination. The Royal Society, which had taken its rise at Oxford from a private association who met in Dr. Wilkin's chambers about the year 1652, was, the year after the Restoration, incorporated by royal charter, and began to publish their Transactions, and give a new and more rational character to the pursuits of philosophy. In France, where the mere will of the government could accomplish greater changes, the consequence of an enlarged spirit of scientific discovery was, that a decisive stop was put to the witch-prosecutions which had heretofore been as common in that kingdom as in England. About the year 1672 there was a general arrest of very many shepherds and others in Normandy, and the Parliament of Rouen prepared to proceed in the investigation with the usual severity. But an order, or _arret_, from the king (Louis XIV.), with advice of his council, commanding all these unfortunate persons to be set at liberty and protected, had the most salutary effects all over the kingdom. The French Academy of Sciences was also founded; and, in imitation, a society of learned Germans established a similar institution at Leipsic. Prejudices, however old, were overawed and controlled--much was accounted for on natural principles that had hitherto been imputed to spiritual agency--everything seemed to promise that farther access to the secrets of nature might be opened to those who should prosecute their studies experimentally and by analysis--and the mass of ancient opinions which overwhelmed the dark subject of which we treat began to be derided and rejected by men of sense and education. In many cases the prey was now snatched from the spoiler. A pragmatical justice of peace in Somersetshire commenced a course of enquiry after offenders against the statute of James I., and had he been allowed to proceed, Mr. Hunt might have gained a name as renowned for witch-finding as that of Mr. Hopkins; but his researches were stopped from higher authority--the lives of the poor people arrested (twelve in number) were saved, and the country remained at quiet, though the supposed witches were suffered to live. The examinations attest some curious particulars, which may be found in _Sadducismus Triumphatus_: for among the usual string of froward, fanciful, or, as they were called, afflicted children, brought forward to club their startings, starings, and screamings, there appeared also certain remarkable confessions of the accused, from which we learn that the Somerset Satan enlisted his witches, like a wily recruiting sergeant, with one shilling in hand and twelve in promises; that when the party of weird-sisters passed to the witch-meeting they used the magic words, _Thout, tout, throughout, and about_; and that when they departed they exclaimed, _Rentum, Tormentum_! We are further informed that his Infernal Highness, on his departure, leaves a smell, and that (in nursery-maid's phrase) not a pretty one, behind him. Concerning this fact we have a curious exposition by Mr. Glanville. "This,"--according to that respectable authority, "seems to imply the reality of the business, those ascititious particles which he held together in his sensible shape being loosened at the vanishing, and so offending the nostrils by their floating and diffusing themselves in the open air."[61] How much are we bound to regret that Mr. Justice Hunt's discovery "of this hellish kind of witches," in itself so clear and plain, and containing such valuable information, should have been smothered by meeting with opposition and discouragement from some then in authority! [Footnote 61: Glanville's "Collection of Relations."] Lord Keeper Guildford was also a stifler of the proceedings against witches. Indeed, we may generally remark, during the latter part of the seventeenth century, that where the judges were men of education and courage, sharing in the information of the times, they were careful to check the precipitate ignorance and prejudice of the juries, by giving them a more precise idea of the indifferent value of confessions by the accused themselves, and of testimony derived from the pretended visions of those supposed to be bewitched. Where, on the contrary, judges shared with the vulgar in their ideas of such fascination, or were contented to leave the evidence with the jury, fearful to withstand the general cry too common on such occasions, a verdict of guilty often followed. We are informed by Roger North that a case of this kind happened at the assizes in Exeter, where his brother, the Lord Chief Justice, did not interfere with the crown trials, and the other judge left for execution a poor old woman, condemned, as usual, on her own confession, and on the testimony of a neighbour, who deponed that he saw a cat jump into the accused person's cottage window at twilight, one evening, and that he verily believed the said cat to be the devil; on which precious testimony the poor wretch was accordingly hanged. On another occasion, about the same time, the passions of the great and little vulgar were so much excited by the aquittal of an aged village dame, whom the judge had taken some pains to rescue, that Sir John Long, a man of rank and fortune, came to the judge in the greatest perplexity, requesting that the hag might not be permitted to return to her miserable cottage on his estates, since all his tenants had in that case threatened to leave him. In compassion to a gentleman who apprehended ruin from a cause so whimsical, the dangerous old woman was appointed to be kept by the town where she was acquitted, at the rate of half-a-crown a week, paid by the parish to which she belonged. But behold! in the period betwixt the two assizes Sir John Long and his farmers had mustered courage enough to petition that this witch should be sent back to them in all her terrors, because they could support her among them at a shilling a week cheaper than they were obliged to pay to the town for her maintenance. In a subsequent trial before Lord Chief Justice North himself, that judge detected one of those practices which, it is to be feared, were too common at the time, when witnesses found their advantage in feigning themselves bewitched. A woman, supposed to be the victim of the male sorcerer at the bar, vomited pins in quantities, and those straight, differing from the crooked pins usually produced at such times, and less easily concealed in the mouth. The judge, however, discovered, by cross-examining a candid witness, that in counterfeiting her fits of convulsion the woman sunk her head on her breast, so as to take up with her lips the pins which she had placed ready in her stomacher. The man was acquitted, of course. A frightful old hag, who was present, distinguished herself so much by her benedictions on the judge, that he asked the cause of the peculiar interest which she took in the acquittal. "Twenty years ago," said the poor woman, "they would have hanged me for a witch, but could not; and now, but for your lordship, they would have murdered my innocent son."[62] [Footnote 62: Roger North's "Life of Lord-Keeper Guilford."] Such scenes happened frequently on the assizes, while country gentlemen, like the excellent Sir Roger de Coverley, retained a private share in the terror with which their tenants, servants, and retainers regarded some old Moll White, who put the hounds at fault and ravaged the fields with hail and hurricanes. Sir John Reresby, after an account of a poor woman tried for a witch at York in 1686 and acquitted, as he thought, very properly, proceeds to tell us that, notwithstanding, the sentinel upon the jail where she was confined avowed "that he saw a scroll of paper creep from under the prison-door, and then change itself first into a monkey and then into a turkey, which the under-keeper confirmed. This," says Sir John, "I have heard from the mouth of both, and now leave it to be believed or disbelieved as the reader may be inclined."[63] We may see that Reresby, a statesman and a soldier, had not as yet "plucked the old woman out of his heart." Even Addison himself ventured no farther in his incredulity respecting this crime than to contend that although witchcraft might and did exist, there was no such thing as a modern instance competently proved. [Footnote 63: "Memoirs of Sir John Reresby," p. 237.] As late as 1682 three unhappy women named Susan Edwards, Mary Trembles, and Temperance Lloyd were hanged at Exeter for witchcraft, and, as usual, on their own confession. This is believed to be the last execution of the kind in England under form of judicial sentence. But the ancient superstition, so interesting to vulgar credulity, like sediment clearing itself from water, sunk down in a deeper shade upon the ignorant and lowest classes of society in proportion as the higher regions were purified from its influence. The populace, including the ignorant of every class, were more enraged against witches when their passions were once excited in proportion to the lenity exercised towards the objects of their indignation by those who administered the laws. Several cases occurred in which the mob, impressed with a conviction of the guilt of some destitute old creatures, took the law into their own hands, and proceeding upon such evidence as Hopkins would have had recourse to, at once, in their own apprehension, ascertained their criminality and administered the deserved punishment. The following instance of such illegal and inhuman proceedings occurred at Oakly, near Bedford, on 12th July, 1707. There was one woman, upwards of sixty years of age, who, being under an imputation of witchcraft, was desirous to escape from so foul a suspicion, and to conciliate the good-will of her neighbours, by allowing them to duck her. The parish officers so far consented to their humane experiment as to promise the poor woman a guinea if she should clear herself by sinking. The unfortunate object was tied up in a wet sheet, her thumbs and great toes were bound together, her cap torn off, and all her apparel searched for pins; for there is an idea that a single pin spoils the operation of the charm. She was then dragged through the river Ouse by a rope tied round her middle. Unhappily for the poor woman, her body floated, though her head remained under water. The experiment was made three times with the same effect. The cry to hang or drown the witch then became general, and as she lay half-dead on the bank they loaded the wretch with reproaches, and hardly forbore blows. A single humane bystander took her part, and exposed himself to rough usage for doing so. Luckily one of the mob themselves at length suggested the additional experiment of weighing the witch against the church Bible. The friend of humanity caught at this means of escape, supporting the proposal by the staggering argument that the Scripture, being the work of God himself, must outweigh necessarily all the operations or vassals of the devil. The reasoning was received as conclusive, the more readily as it promised a new species of amusement. The woman was then weighed against a church Bible of twelve pounds jockey weight, and as she was considerably preponderant, was dismissed with honour. But many of the mob counted her acquittal irregular, and would have had the poor dame drowned or hanged on the result of her ducking, as the more authentic species of trial. At length a similar piece of inhumanity, which had a very different conclusion, led to the final abolition of the statute of James I. as affording countenance for such brutal proceedings. An aged pauper, named Osborne, and his wife, who resided near Tring, in Staffordshire, fell under the suspicion of the mob on account of supposed witchcraft. The overseers of the poor, understanding that the rabble entertained a purpose of swimming these infirm creatures, which indeed they had expressed in a sort of proclamation, endeavoured to oppose their purpose by securing the unhappy couple in the vestry-room, which they barricaded. They were unable, however, to protect them in the manner they intended. The mob forced the door, seized the accused, and, with ineffable brutality, continued dragging the wretches through a pool of water till the woman lost her life. A brute in human form, who had superintended the murder, went among the spectators, and requested money for the sport he had shown them! The life of the other victim was with great difficulty saved. Three men were tried for their share in this inhuman action. Only one of them, named Colley, was condemned and hanged. When he came to execution, the rabble, instead of crowding round the gallows as usual, stood at a distance, and abused those who were putting to death, they said, an honest fellow for ridding the parish of an accursed witch. This abominable murder was committed July 30, 1751. The repetitition of such horrors, the proneness of the people to so cruel and heart-searing a superstition, was traced by the legislature to its source, namely, the yet unabolished statute of James I. Accordingly, by the 9th George II. cap. 5, that odious law, so long the object of horror to all ancient and poverty-stricken females in the kingdom, was abrogated, and all criminal procedure on the subject of sorcery or witchcraft discharged in future throughout Great Britain; reserving for such as should pretend to the skill of fortune-tellers, discoverers of stolen goods, or the like, the punishment of the correction-house, as due to rogues and vagabonds. Since that period witchcraft has been little heard of in England, and although the belief in its existence has in remote places survived the law that recognised the evidence of the crime, and assigned its punishment--yet such faith is gradually becoming forgotten since the rabble have been deprived of all pretext to awaken it by their own riotous proceedings. Some rare instances have occurred of attempts similar to that for which Colley suffered; and I observe one is preserved in that curious register of knowledge, Mr. Hone's "Popular Amusements," from which it appears that as late as the end of last century this brutality was practised, though happily without loss of life. The Irish statute against witchcraft still exists, as it would seem. Nothing occurred in that kingdom which recommended its being formally annulled; but it is considered as obsolete, and should so wild a thing be attempted in the present day, no procedure, it is certain, would now be permitted to lie upon it. If anything were wanted to confirm the general proposition that the epidemic terror of witchcraft increases and becomes general in proportion to the increase of prosecutions against witches, it would be sufficient to quote certain extraordinary occurrences in New England. Only a brief account can be here given of the dreadful hallucination under which the colonists of that province were for a time deluded and oppressed by a strange contagious terror, and how suddenly and singularly it was cured, even by its own excess; but it is too strong evidence of the imaginary character of this hideous disorder to be altogether suppressed. New England, as is well known, was peopled mainly by emigrants who had been disgusted with the government of Charles I. in church and state, previous to the great Civil War. Many of the more wealthy settlers were Presbyterians and Calvinists; others, fewer in number and less influential from their fortune, were Quakers, Anabaptists, or members of the other sects who were included under the general name of Independents. The Calvinists brought with them the same zeal for religion and strict morality which everywhere distinguished them. Unfortunately, they were not wise according to their zeal, but entertained a proneness to believe in supernatural and direct personal intercourse between the devil and his vassals, an error to which, as we have endeavoured to show, their brethren in Europe had from the beginning been peculiarly subject. In a country imperfectly cultivated, and where the partially improved spots were embosomed in inaccessible forests, inhabited by numerous tribes of savages, it was natural that a disposition to superstition should rather gain than lose ground, and that to other dangers and horrors with which they were surrounded, the colonists should have added fears of the devil, not merely as the Evil Principle tempting human nature to sin, and thus endangering our salvation, but as combined with sorcerers and witches to inflict death and torture upon children and others. The first case which I observe was that of four children of a person called John Goodwin, a mason. The eldest, a girl, had quarrelled with the laundress of the family about some linen which was amissing. The mother of the laundress, an ignorant, testy, and choleric old Irishwoman, scolded the accuser; and shortly after, the elder Goodwin, her sister and two brothers, were seized with such strange diseases that all their neighbours concluded they were bewitched. They conducted themselves as those supposed to suffer under maladies created by such influence were accustomed to do. They stiffened their necks so hard at one time that the joints could not be moved; at another time their necks were so flexible and supple that it seemed the bone was dissolved. They had violent convulsions, in which their jaws snapped with the force of a spring-trap set for vermin. Their limbs were curiously contorted, and to those who had a taste for the marvellous, seemed entirely dislocated and displaced. Amid these distortions, they cried out against the poor old woman, whose name was Glover, alleging that she was in presence with them adding to their torments. The miserable Irishwoman, who hardly could speak the English language, repeated her Pater Noster and Ave Maria like a good Catholic; but there were some words which she had forgotten. She was therefore supposed to be unable to pronounce the whole consistently and correctly, and condemned and executed accordingly. But the children of Goodwin found the trade they were engaged in to be too profitable to be laid aside, and the eldest in particular continued all the external signs of witchcraft and possession. Some of these were excellently calculated to flatter the self-opinion and prejudices of the Calvinist ministers by whom she was attended, and accordingly bear in their very front the character of studied and voluntary imposture. The young woman, acting, as was supposed, under the influence of the devil, read a Quaker treatise with ease and apparent satisfaction; but a book written against the poor inoffensive Friends the devil would not allow his victim to touch, She could look on a Church of England Prayer-book, and read the portions of Scripture which it contains without difficulty or impediment; but the spirit which possessed her threw her into fits if she attempted to read the same Scriptures from the Bible, as if the awe which it is supposed the fiends entertain for Holy Writ depended, not on the meaning of the words, but the arrangement of the page, and the type in which they were printed. This singular species of flattery was designed to captivate the clergyman through his professional opinions; others were more strictly personal. The afflicted damsel seems to have been somewhat of the humour of the Inamorata of Messrs. Smack, Pluck, Catch, and Company, and had, like her, merry as well as melancholy fits. She often imagined that her attendant spirits brought her a handsome pony to ride off with them to their rendezvous. On such occasions she made a spring upwards, as if to mount her horse, and then, still seated on her chair, mimicked with dexterity and agility the motions of the animal pacing, trotting, and galloping, like a child on the nurse's knee; but when she cantered in this manner upstairs, she affected inability to enter the clergyman's study, and when she was pulled into it by force, used to become quite well, and stand up as a rational being. "Reasons were given for this," says the simple minister, "that seem more kind than true." Shortly after this, she appears to have treated the poor divine with a species of sweetness and attention, which gave him greater embarrassment than her former violence. She used to break in upon him at his studies to importune him to come downstairs, and thus advantaged doubtless the kingdom of Satan by the interruption of his pursuits. At length the Goodwins were, or appeared to be, cured. But the example had been given and caught, and the blood of poor Dame Glover, which had been the introduction to this tale of a hobby-horse, was to be the forerunner of new atrocities and fearfully more general follies. This scene opened by the illness of two girls, a daughter and niece of Mr. Parvis, the minister of Salem, who fell under an affliction similar to that of the Goodwins. Their mouths were stopped, their throats choked, their limbs racked, thorns were stuck into their flesh, and pins were ejected from their stomachs. An Indian and his wife, servants of the family, endeavouring, by some spell of their own, to discover by whom the fatal charm had been imposed on their master's children, drew themselves under suspicion, and were hanged. The judges and juries persevered, encouraged by the discovery of these poor Indians' guilt, and hoping they might thus expel from the colony the authors of such practices. They acted, says Mather, the historian, under a conscientious wish to do justly; but the cases of witchcraft and possession increased as if they were transmitted by contagion, and the same sort of spectral evidence being received which had occasioned the condemnation of the Indian woman Titu, became generally fatal. The afflicted persons failed not to see the spectres, as they were termed, of the persons by whom they were tormented. Against this species of evidence no _alibi_ could be offered, because it was admitted, as we have said elsewhere, that the real persons of the accused were not there present; and everything rested upon the assumption that the afflicted persons were telling the truth, since their evidence could not be redargued. These spectres were generally represented as offering their victims a book, on signing which they would be freed from their torments. Sometimes the devil appeared in person, and added his own eloquence to move the afflicted persons to consent. At first, as seems natural enough, the poor and miserable alone were involved; but presently, when such evidence was admitted as incontrovertible, the afflicted began to see the spectral appearances of persons of higher condition and of irreproachable lives, some of whom were arrested, some made their escape, while several were executed. The more that suffered the greater became the number of afflicted persons, and the wider and the more numerous were the denunciations against supposed witches. The accused were of all ages. A child of five years old was indicted by some of the afflicted, who imagined they saw this juvenile wizard active in tormenting them, and appealed to the mark of little teeth on their bodies, where they stated it had bitten them. A poor dog was also hanged as having been alleged to be busy in this infernal persecution. These gross insults on common reason occasioned a revulsion in public feeling, but not till many lives had been sacrificed. By this means nineteen men and women were executed, besides a stouthearted man named Cory, who refused to plead, and was accordingly pressed to death according to the old law. On this horrible occasion a circumstance took place disgusting to humanity, which must yet be told, to show how superstition can steel the heart of a man against the misery of his fellow-creature. The dying man, in the mortal agony, thrust out his tongue, which the sheriff crammed with his cane back again into his mouth. Eight persons were condemned besides those who had actually suffered, and no less than two hundred were in prison and under examination. Men began then to ask whether the devil might not artfully deceive the afflicted into the accusation of good and innocent persons by presenting witches and fiends in the resemblance of blameless persons, as engaged in the tormenting of their diseased country-folk. This argument was by no means inconsistent with the belief in witchcraft, and was the more readily listened to on that account. Besides, men found that no rank or condition could save them from the danger of this horrible accusation if they continued to encourage the witnesses in such an unlimited course as had hitherto been granted to them. Influenced by these reflections, the settlers awoke as from a dream, and the voice of the public, which had so lately demanded vengeance on all who were suspected of sorcery, began now, on the other hand, to lament the effusion of blood, under the strong suspicion that part of it at least had been innocently and unjustly sacrificed. In Mather's own language, which we use as that of a man deeply convinced of the reality of the crime, "experience showed that the more were apprehended the more were still afflicted by Satan, and the number of confessions increasing did but increase the number of the accused, and the execution of some made way to the apprehension of others. For still the afflicted complained of being tormented by new objects as the former were removed, so that some of those that were concerned grew amazed at the number and condition of those that were accused, and feared that Satan, by his wiles, had enwrapped innocent persons under the imputation of that crime; and at last, as was evidently seen, there must be a stop put, or the generation of the kingdom of God would fall under condemnation."[64] [Footnote 64: Mather's "Magnalia," book vi. chap. lxxxii. The zealous author, however, regrets the general gaol delivery on the score of sorcery and thinks, had the times been calm, the case might have required a farther investigation, and that, on the whole, the matter was ended too abruptly But, the temper of the times considered, he admits candidly that it is better to act moderately in matters capital, and to let the guilty escape, than run the risk of destroying the innocent.] The prosecutions were therefore suddenly stopped, the prisoners dismissed, the condemned pardoned, and even those who had confessed, the number of whom was very extraordinary, were pardoned amongst others; and the author we have just quoted thus records the result:--"When this prosecution ceased, the Lord so chained up Satan that the afflicted grew presently well. The accused were generally quiet, and for five years there was no such molestation among us." To this it must be added that the congregation of Salem compelled Mr. Parvis, in whose family the disturbance had begun, and who, they alleged, was the person by whom it was most fiercely driven on in the commencement, to leave his settlement amongst them. Such of the accused as had confessed the acts of witchcraft imputed to them generally denied and retracted their confessions, asserting them to have been made under fear of torture, influence of persuasion, or other circumstances exclusive of their free will. Several of the judges and jurors concerned in the sentence of those who were executed published their penitence for their rashness in convicting these unfortunate persons; and one of the judges, a man of the most importance in the colony, observed, during the rest of his life, the anniversary of the first execution as a day of solemn fast and humiliation for his own share in the transaction. Even the barbarous Indians were struck with wonder at the infatuation of the English colonists on this occasion, and drew disadvantageous comparisons between them and the French, among whom, as they remarked, "the Great Spirit sends no witches." The system of witchcraft, as believed in Scotland, must next claim our attention, as it is different in some respects from that of England, and subsisted to a later period, and was prosecuted with much more severity. LETTER IX. Scottish Trials--Earl of Mar--Lady Glammis--William Barton--Witches of Auldearne--Their Rites and Charms--Their Transformation into Hares--Satan's Severity towards them--Their Crimes--Sir George Mackenzie's Opinion of Witchcraft--Instances of Confessions made by the Accused, in despair, and to avoid future annoyance and persecution--Examination by Pricking--The Mode of Judicial Procedure against Witches, and nature of the Evidence admissible, opened a door to Accusers, and left the Accused no chance of escape--The Superstition of the Scottish Clergy in King James VI.'s time led them, like their Sovereign, to encourage Witch-Prosecutions--Case of Bessie Graham--Supposed Conspiracy to Shipwreck James in his Voyage to Denmark--Meetings of the Witches, and Rites performed to accomplish their purpose--Trial of Margaret Barclay in 1618--Case of Major Weir--Sir John Clerk among the first who declined acting as Commissioner on the Trial of a Witch--Paisley and Pittenweem Witches--A Prosecution in Caithness prevented by the Interference of the King's Advocate in 1718--The Last Sentence of Death for Witchcraft pronounced in Scotland in 1722--Remains of the Witch Superstition--Case of supposed Witchcraft, related from the Author's own knowledge, which took place so late as 1800. For many years the Scottish nation had been remarkable for a credulous belief in witchcraft, and repeated examples were supplied by the annals of sanguinary executions on this sad accusation. Our acquaintance with the slender foundation on which Boetius and Buchanan reared the early part of their histories may greatly incline us to doubt whether a king named Duffus ever reigned in Scotland, and, still more, whether he died by the agency of a gang of witches, who inflicted torments upon an image made in his name, for the sake of compassing his death. In the tale of Macbeth, which is another early instance of Demonology in Scottish history, the weird-sisters, who were the original prophetesses, appeared to the usurper in a dream, and are described as _volæ_, or sibyls, rather than as witches, though Shakspeare has stamped the latter character indelibly upon them. One of the earliest real cases of importance founded upon witchcraft was, like those of the Duchess of Gloucester and others in the sister country, mingled with an accusation of a political nature, which, rather than the sorcery, brought the culprits to their fate. The Earl of Mar, brother of James III. of Scotland, fell under the king's suspicion for consulting with witches and sorcerers how to shorten the king's days. On such a charge, very inexplicitly stated, the unhappy Mar was bled to death in his own lodgings without either trial or conviction; immediately after which catastrophe twelve women of obscure rank and three or four wizards, or warlocks, as they were termed, were burnt at Edinburgh, to give a colour to the Earl's guilt. In the year 1537 a noble matron fell a victim to a similar charge. This was Janet Douglas, Lady Glammis, who, with her son, her second husband, and several others, stood accused of attempting James's life by poison, with a view to the restoration of the Douglas family, of which Lady Glammis's brother, the Earl of Angus, was the head. She died much pitied by the people, who seem to have thought the articles against her forged for the purpose of taking her life, her kindred and very name being so obnoxious to the King. Previous to this lady's execution there would appear to have been but few prosecuted to death on the score of witchcraft, although the want of the justiciary records of that period leaves us in uncertainty. But in the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth centuries, when such charges grew general over Europe, cases of the kind occurred very often in Scotland, and, as we have already noticed, were sometimes of a peculiar character. There is, indeed, a certain monotony in most tales of the kind. The vassals are usually induced to sell themselves at a small price to the Author of Ill, who, having commonly to do with women, drives a very hard bargain. On the contrary, when he was pleased to enact the female on a similar occasion, he brought his gallant, one William Barton, a fortune of no less than fifteen pounds, which, even supposing it to have been the Scottish denomination of coin, was a very liberal endowment compared with his niggardly conduct towards the fair sex on such an occasion. Neither did he pass false coin on this occasion, but, on the contrary, generously gave Burton a merk, to keep the fifteen pounds whole. In observing on Satan's conduct in this matter, Master George Sinclair observes that it is fortunate the Enemy is but seldom permitted to bribe so high (as £15 Scots); for were this the case, he might find few men or women capable of resisting his munificence. I look upon this as one of the most severe reflections on our forefathers' poverty which is extant. In many of the Scottish witches' trials, as to the description of Satan's Domdaniel, and the Sabbath which he there celebrates, the northern superstition agrees with that of England. But some of the confessions depart from the monotony of repetition, and add some more fanciful circumstances than occur in the general case. Isobel Gowdie's confession, already mentioned, is extremely minute, and some part of it at least may be quoted, as there are other passages not very edifying. The witches of Auldearne, according to this penitent, were so numerous, that they were told off into squads, or _covines_, as they were termed, to each of which were appointed two officers. One of these was called the Maiden of the Covine, and was usually, like Tam o' Shanter's Nannie, a girl of personal attractions, whom Satan placed beside himself, and treated with particular attention, which greatly provoked the spite of the old hags, who felt themselves insulted by the preference.[65] When assembled, they dug up graves, and possessed themselves of the carcases (of unchristened infants in particular), whose joints and members they used in their magic unguents and salves. When they desired to secure for their own use the crop of some neighbour, they made a pretence of ploughing it with a yoke of paddocks. These foul creatures drew the plough, which was held by the devil himself. The plough-harness and soams were of quicken grass, the sock and coulter were made out of a riglen's horn, and the covine attended on the operation, praying the devil to transfer to them the fruit of the ground so traversed, and leave the proprietors nothing but thistles and briars. The witches' sports, with their elfin archery, I have already noticed (page 136). They entered the house of the Earl of Murray himself, and such other mansions as were not fenced against them by vigil and prayer, and feasted on the provisions they found there. [Footnote 65: This word Covine seems to signify a subdivision or squad. The tree near the front of an ancient castle was called the _Covine tree_, probably because the lord received his company there. "He is lord of the hunting horn, And king of the Covine tree; He's well loo'd in the western waters, But best of his ain minnie."] As these witches were the countrywomen of the weird sisters in Macbeth, the reader may be desirous to hear some of their spells, and of the poetry by which they were accompanied and enforced. They used to hash the flesh of an unchristened child, mixed with that of dogs and sheep, and place it in the house of those whom they devoted to destruction in body or goods, saying or singing-- "We put this intill this hame, In our lord the Devil's name; The first hands that handle thee, Burn'd and scalded may they be! We will destroy houses and hald, With the sheep and nolt into the fauld; And little sall come to the fore, Of all the rest of the little store!" Metamorphoses were, according to Isobel, very common among them, and the forms of crows, cats, hares, and other animals, were on such occasions assumed. In the hare shape Isobel herself had a bad adventure. She had been sent by the devil to Auldearne in that favourite disguise, with some message to her neighbours, but had the misfortune to meet Peter Papley of Killhill's servants going to labour, having his hounds with them. The hounds sprung on the disguised witch, "and I," says Isobel, "run a very long time, but being hard pressed, was forced to take to my own house, the door being open, and there took refuge behind a chest." But the hounds came in and took the other side of the chest, so that Isobel only escaped by getting into another house, and gaining time to say the disenchanting rhyme:-- "Hare, hare, God send thee care! I am in a hare's likeness now; But I shall be a woman even now-- Hare, hare, God send thee care!" Such accidents, she said, were not uncommon, and the witches were sometimes bitten by the dogs, of which the marks remained after their restoration to human shape. But none had been killed on such occasions. The ceremonial of the Sabbath meetings was very strict. The Foul Fiend was very rigid in exacting the most ceremonious attention from his votaries, and the title of Lord when addressed by them. Sometimes, however, the weird sisters, when whispering amongst themselves, irreverently spoke of their sovereign by the name of Black John; upon such occasions the Fiend rushed on them like a schoolmaster who surprises his pupils in delict, and beat and buffeted them without mercy or discretion, saying, "I ken weel eneugh what you are saying of me." Then might be seen the various tempers of those whom he commanded. Alexander Elder, in Earlseat, often fell under his lord's displeasure for neglect of duty, and, being weak and simple, could never defend himself save with tears, cries, and entreaties for mercy; but some of the women, according to Isobel Gowdie's confession, had more of the spirit which animated the old dame of Kellyburn Braes. Margaret Wilson, in Auldearne, would "defend herself finely," and make her hands save her head, after the old Scottish manner. Bessie Wilson could also speak very crustily with her tongue, and "belled the cat" with the devil stoutly. The others chiefly took refuge in crying "Pity! mercy!" and such like, while Satan kept beating them with wool cards and other sharp scourges, without attending to their entreaties or complaints. There were attendant devils and imps, who served the witches. They were usually distinguished by their liveries, which were sad-dun, grass-green, sea-green, and yellow. The witches were taught to call these imps by names, some of which might belong to humanity, while others had a diabolical sound. These were Robert the Jakis, Saunders the Red Reaver, Thomas the Feary, Swein, an old Scandinavian Duerg probably; the Roaring Lion, Thief of Hell, Wait-upon-Herself, MacKeeler, Robert the Rule, Hendrie Craig, and Rorie. These names, odd and uncouth enough, are better imagined at least than those which Hopkins contrived for the imps which he discovered--such as Pyewacket, Peck-in-the-Crown, Sack-and-Sugar, News, Vinegar-Tom, and Grizell Greedigut, the broad vulgarity of which epithets shows what a flat imagination he brought to support his impudent fictions. The devil, who commanded the fair sisterhood, being fond of mimicking the forms of the Christian church, used to rebaptize the witches with their blood, and in his own great name. The proud-stomached Margaret Wilson, who scorned to take a blow unrepaid, even from Satan himself, was called Pickle-nearest-the-Wind; her compeer, Bessie Wilson, was Throw-the-Cornyard; Elspet Nishe's was Bessie Bald; Bessie Hay's nickname was Able-and-Stout; and Jane Mairten, the Maiden of the Covine, was called Ower-the-Dike-with-it. Isobel took upon herself, and imputed to her sisters, as already mentioned, the death of sundry persons shot with elf-arrows, because they had omitted to bless themselves as the aerial flight of the hags swept past them.[66] She had herself the temerity to shoot at the Laird of Park as he was riding through a ford, but missed him through the influence of the running stream, perhaps, for which she thanks God in her confession; and adds, that at the time she received a great cuff from Bessie Hay for her awkwardness. They devoted the male children of this gentleman (of the well-known family of Gordon of Park, I presume) to wasting illness, by the following lines, placing at the same time in the fire figures composed of clay mixed with paste, to represent the object:-- "We put this water amongst this meal, For long dwining[67] and ill heal; We put it in into the fire, To burn them up stook and stour.[68] That they be burned with our will, Like any stikkle[69] in a kiln." [Footnote 66: See p. 136.] [Footnote 67: Pining.] [Footnote 68: We should read perhaps, "limb and lire."] [Footnote 69: Stubble.] Such was the singular confession of Isobel Gowdie, made voluntarily, it would seem, and without compulsion of any kind, judicially authenticated by the subscription of the notary, clergymen, and gentlemen present; adhered to after their separate _diets_, as they are called, of examination, and containing no variety or contradiction in its details. Whatever might be her state of mind in other respects, she seems to have been perfectly conscious of the perilous consequence of her disclosures to her own person. "I do not deserve," says she, "to be seated here at ease and unharmed, but rather to be stretched on an iron rack: nor can my crimes be atoned for, were I to be drawn asunder by wild horses." It only remains to suppose that this wretched creature was under the dominion of some peculiar species of lunacy, to which a full perusal of her confession might perhaps guide a medical person of judgment and experience. Her case is interesting, as throwing upon the rites and ceremonies of the Scottish witches a light which we seek in vain elsewhere. Other unfortunate persons were betrayed to their own reproof by other means than the derangement of mind which seems to have operated on Isobel Gowdie. Some, as we have seen, endeavoured to escape from the charge of witchcraft by admitting an intercourse with the fairy people; an excuse which was never admitted as relevant. Others were subjected to cruel tortures, by which our ancestors thought the guilty might be brought to confession, but which far more frequently compelled the innocent to bear evidence against themselves. On this subject the celebrated Sir George Mackenzie, "that noble wit of Scotland," as he is termed by Dryden, has some most judicious reflections, which we shall endeavour to abstract as the result of the experience of one who, in his capacity of Lord Advocate, had often occasion to conduct witch-trials, and who, not doubting the existence of the crime, was of opinion that, on account of its very horror, it required the clearest and most strict probation. He first insists on the great improbability of the fiend, without riches to bestow, and avowedly subjected to a higher power, being able to enlist such numbers of recruits, and the little advantage which he himself would gain by doing so. But, 2dly, says Mackenzie, "the persons ordinarily accused of this crime are poor ignorant men, or else women, who understand not the nature of what they are accused of; and many mistake their own fears and apprehensions for witchcraft, of which I shall give two instances. One, of a poor weaver who, after he had confessed witchcraft, being asked how he saw the devil, made answer, 'Like flies dancing about the candle.' Another, of a woman, who asked seriously, when she was accused, if a woman might be a witch and not know it? And it is dangerous that persons, of all others the most simple, should be tried for a crime of all others the most mysterious. 3rdly, These poor creatures, when they are defamed, become so confounded with fear and the close prison in which they are kept, and so starved for want of meat and drink, either of which wants is enough to disarm the strongest reason, that hardly wiser and more serious people than they would escape distraction; and when men are confounded with fear and apprehension, they will imagine things the most ridiculous and absurd" of which instances are given. 4thly, "Most of these poor creatures are tortured by their keepers, who, being persuaded they do God good service, think it their duty to vex and torment poor prisoners delivered up to them as rebels to heaven and enemies to men; and I know" (continues Sir George), "_ex certissima scientia_, that most of all that ever were taken were tormented in this manner, and this usage was the ground of all their confession; and albeit the poor miscreants cannot prove this usage, the actors being the only witnesses, yet the judge should be jealous of it, as that which did at first elicit the confession, and for fear of which they dare not retract it." 5thly, This learned author gives us an instance how these unfortunate creatures might be reduced to confession by the very infamy which the accusation cast upon them, and which was sure to follow, condemning them for life to a state of necessity, misery, and suspicion, such as any person of reputation would willingly exchange for a short death, however painful. "I went when I was a justice-deput to examine some women who had confessed judicially, and one of them, who was a silly creature, told me under secresie, that she had not confest because she was guilty, but being a poor creature who wrought for her meat, and being defamed for a witch, she knew she would starve, for no person thereafter would either give her meat or lodging, and that all men would beat her and hound dogs at her, and that therefore she desired to be out of the world; whereupon she wept most bitterly, and upon her knees called God to witness to what she said. Another told me that she was afraid the devil would challenge a right to her, after she was said to be his servant, and would haunt her, as the minister said, when he was desiring her to confess, and therefore she desired to die. And really ministers are oft times indiscreet in their zeal to have poor creatures to confess in this; and I recommend to judges that the wisest ministers should be sent to them, and those who are sent should be cautious in this particular."[70] [Footnote 70: Mackenzie's "Criminal Law," p. 45.] As a corollary to this affecting story, I may quote the case of a woman in Lauder jail, who lay there with other females on a charge of witchcraft. Her companions in prison were adjudged to die, and she too had, by a confession as full as theirs, given herself up as guilty. She therefore sent for the minister of the town, and entreated to be put to death with the others who had been appointed to suffer upon the next Monday. The clergyman, however, as well as others, had adopted a strong persuasion that this confession was made up in the pride of her heart, for the destruction of her own life, and had no foundation in truth. We give the result in the minister's words:-- "Therefore much pains was taken on her by ministers and others on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday morning, that she might resile from that confession which was suspected to be but a temptation of the devil, to destroy both her soul and body; yea, it was charged home upon her by the ministers, that there was just ground of jealousy that her confession was not sincere, and she was charged before the Lord to declare the truth, and not to take her blood upon her own head. Yet she stiffly adhered to what she had said, and cried always to be put away with the rest. Whereupon, on Monday morning, being called before the judges, and confessing before them what she had said, she was found guilty and condemned to die with the rest that same day. Being carried forth to the place of execution, she remained silent during the first, second, and third prayer, and then perceiving that there remained no more but to rise and go to the stake, she lifted up her body, and with a loud voice cried out, 'Now all you that see me this day, know that I am now to die as a witch by my own confession, and I free all men, especially the ministers and magistrates, of the guilt of my blood. I take it wholly upon myself--my blood be upon my own head; and as I must make answer to the God of Heaven presently, I declare I am as free of witchcraft as any child; but being delated by a malicious woman, and put in prison under the name of a witch, disowned by my husband and friends, and seeing no ground of hope of my coming out of prison, or ever coming in credit again, through the temptation of the devil I made up that confession on purpose to destroy my own life, being weary of it, and choosing rather to die than live;'--and so died. Which lamentable story, as it did then astonish all the spectators, none of which could restrain themselves from tears; so it may be to all a demonstration of Satan's subtlety, whose design is still to destroy all, partly by tempting many to presumption, and some others to despair. These things to be of truth, are attested by an eye and ear witness who is yet alive, a faithful minister of the gospel."[71] It is strange the inference does not seem to have been deduced, that as one woman out of very despair renounced her own life, the same might have been the case in many other instances, wherein the confessions of the accused constituted the principal if not sole evidence of the guilt. [Footnote 71: Sinclair's "Satan's Invisible World Discovered," p. 43.] One celebrated mode of detecting witches and torturing them at the same time, to draw forth confession, was by running pins into their body, on pretence of discovering the devil's stigma, or mark, which was said to be inflicted by him upon all his vassals, and to be insensible to pain. This species of search, the practice of the infamous Hopkins, was in Scotland reduced to a trade; and the young witchfinder was allowed to torture the accused party, as if in exercise of a lawful calling, although Sir George Mackenzie stigmatises it as a horrid imposture. I observe in the Collections of Mr. Pitcairn, that at the trial of Janet Peaston of Dalkeith the magistrates and ministers of that market town caused John Kincaid of Tranent, the common pricker, to exercise his craft upon her, "who found two marks of what he called the devil's making, and which appeared indeed to be so, for she could not feel the pin when it was put into either of the said marks, nor did they (the marks) bleed when they were taken out again; and when she was asked where she thought the pins were put in, she pointed to a part of her body distant from the real place. They were pins of three inches in length." Besides the fact that the persons of old people especially sometimes contain spots void of sensibility, there is also room to believe that the professed prickers used a pin the point or lower part of which was, on being pressed down, sheathed in the upper, which was hollow for the purpose, and that which appeared to enter the body did not pierce it at all. But, were it worth while to dwell on a subject so ridiculous, we might recollect that in so terrible an agony of shame as is likely to convulse a human being under such a trial, and such personal insults, the blood is apt to return to the heart, and a slight wound, as with a pin, may be inflicted without being followed by blood. In the latter end of the seventeenth century this childish, indecent, and brutal practice began to be called by its right name. Fountainhall has recorded that in 1678 the Privy Council received the complaint of a poor woman who had been abused by a country magistrate and one of those impostors called prickers. They expressed high displeasure against the presumption of the parties complained against, and treated the pricker as a common cheat.[72] [Footnote 72: Fountainhall's "Decisions," vol. i. p. 15.] From this and other instances it appears that the predominance of the superstition of witchcraft, and the proneness to persecute those accused of such practices in Scotland, were increased by the too great readiness of subordinate judges to interfere in matters which were, in fact, beyond their jurisdiction. The Supreme Court of Justiciary was that in which the cause properly and exclusively ought to have been tried. But, in practice, each inferior judge in the country, the pettiest bailie in the most trifling burgh, the smallest and most ignorant baron of a rude territory, took it on him to arrest, imprison, and examine, in which examinations, as we have already seen, the accused suffered the grossest injustice. The copies of these examinations, made up of extorted confessions, or the evidence of inhabile witnesses, were all that were transmitted to the Privy Council, who were to direct the future mode of procedure. Thus no creature was secure against the malice or folly of some defamatory accusation, if there was a timid or superstitious judge, though of the meanest denomination, to be found within the district. But, secondly, it was the course of the Privy Council to appoint commissions of the gentlemen of the country, and particularly of the clergymen, though not likely, from their education, to be freed from general prejudice, and peculiarly liable to be affected by the clamour of the neighbourhood againt the delinquent. Now, as it is well known that such a commission could not be granted in a case of murder in the county where the crime was charged, there seems no good reason why the trial of witches, so liable to excite the passions, should not have been uniformly tried by a court whose rank and condition secured them from the suspicion of partiality. But our ancestors arranged it otherwise, and it was the consequence that such commissioners very seldom, by acquitting the persons brought before them, lost an opportunity of destroying a witch. Neither must it be forgotten that the proof led in support of the prosecution was of a kind very unusual in jurisprudence. The lawyers admitted as evidence what they called _damnum minatum, et malum secutum_--some mischief, that is to say, following close upon a threat, or wish of revenge, uttered by the supposed witch, which, though it might be attributed to the most natural course of events, was supposed necessarily to be in consequence of the menaces of the accused. Sometimes this vague species of evidence was still more loosely adduced, and allegations of danger threatened and mischief ensuing were admitted, though the menaces had not come from the accused party herself. On 10th June, 1661, as John Stewart, one of a party of stout burghers of Dalkeith appointed to guard an old woman called Christian Wilson from that town to Niddrie, was cleaning his gun, he was slyly questioned by Janet Cocke, another confessing witch, who probably saw his courage was not entirely constant, "What would you think if the devil raise a whirlwind, and take her from you on the road to-morrow?" Sure enough, on their journey to Niddrie the party actually were assailed by a sudden gust of wind (not a very uncommon event in that climate), which scarce permitted the valiant guard to keep their feet, while the miserable prisoner was blown into a pool of water, and with difficulty raised again. There is some ground to hope that this extraordinary evidence was not admitted upon the trial. There is a story told of an old wizard, whose real name was Alexander Hunter, though he was more generally known by the nickname of Hatteraick, which it had pleased the devil to confer upon him. The man had for some time adopted the credit of being a conjurer, and curing the diseases of man and beast by spells and charms. One summer's day, on a green hill-side, the devil appeared to him in shape of a grave "Mediciner," addressing him thus roundly, "Sandie, you have too long followed my trade without acknowledging me for a master. You must now enlist with me and become my servant, and I will teach you your trade better." Hatteraick consented to the proposal, and we shall let the Rev. Mr. George Sinclair tell the rest of the tale. "After this he grew very famous through the country for his charming and curing of diseases in men and beasts, and turned a vagrant fellow like a jockie,[73] gaining meal, and flesh, and money by his charms, such was the ignorance of many at that time. Whatever house he came to none durst refuse Hatteraick an alms, rather for his ill than his good. One day he came to the yait (gate) of Samuelston, when some friends after dinner were going to horse. A young gentleman, brother to the lady, seeing him, switcht him about the ears, saying--'You warlock carle, what have you to do here?' Whereupon the fellow goes away grumbling, and was overheard to say, 'You shall dear buy this ere it be long.' This was _damnum minatum_. The young gentleman conveyed his friends a far way off, and came home that way again, where he supped. After supper, taking his horse and crossing Tyne water to go home, he rides through a shady piece of a haugh, commonly called Allers, and the evening being somewhat dark, he met with some persons there that begat a dreadful consternation in him, which for the most part he would never reveal. This was _malum secutum_. When he came home the servants observed terror and fear in his countenance. The next day he became distracted, and was bound for several days. His sister, the Lady Samuelston, hearing of it, was heard say, 'Surely that knave Hatteraick is the cause of his trouble; call for him in all haste.' When he had come to her, 'Sandie,' says she, 'what is this you have done to my brother William?' 'I told him,' says he, 'I should make him repent of his striking me at the yait lately.' She, giving the rogue fair words, and promising him his pockful of meal, with beef and cheese, persuaded the fellow to cure him again. He undertook the business. 'But I must first,' says he, 'have one of his sarks' (shirts), which was soon gotten. What pranks he played with it cannot be known, but within a short while the gentleman recovered his health. When Hatteraick came to receive his wages he told the lady, 'Your brother William shall quickly go off the country, but shall never return,' She, knowing the fellow's prophecies to hold true, caused the brother to make a disposition to her of all his patrimony, to the defrauding of his younger brother, George. After that this warlock had abused the country for a long time, he was at last apprehended at Dunbar, and brought into Edinburgh, and burnt upon the Castlehill."[74] [Footnote 73: Or Scottish wandering beggar.] [Footnote 74: Sinclair's "Satan's Invisible World Discovered," p. 98.] Now, if Hatteraick was really put to death on such evidence, it is worth while to consider what was its real amount. A hot-tempered swaggering young gentleman horsewhips a beggar of ill fame for loitering about the gate of his sister's house. The beggar grumbles, as any man would. The young man, riding in the night, and probably in liquor, through a dark shady place, is frightened by, he would not, and probably could not, tell what, and has a fever fit. His sister employs the wizard to take off the spell according to his profession; and here is _damnum minatum, et malum secutum_, and all legal cause for burning a man to ashes! The vagrant Hatteraick probably knew something of the wild young man which might soon oblige him to leave the country; and the selfish Lady Samuelston, learning the probability of his departure, committed a fraud which ought to have rendered her evidence inadmissible. Besides these particular disadvantages, to which the parties accused of this crime in Scotland were necessarily exposed, both in relation to the judicature by which they were tried and the evidence upon which they were convicted, their situation was rendered intolerable by the detestation in which they were held by all ranks. The gentry hated them because the diseases and death of their relations and children were often imputed to them; the grossly superstitious vulgar abhorred them with still more perfect dread and loathing. And amongst those natural feelings, others of a less pardonable description found means to shelter themselves. In one case, we are informed by Mackenzie, a poor girl was to die for witchcraft, of whom the real crime was that she had attracted too great a share, in the lady's opinion, of the attention of the laird. Having thus given some reasons why the prosecutions for witchcraft in Scotland were so numerous and fatal, we return to the general history of the trials recorded from the reign of James V. to the union of the kingdoms. Through the reign of Queen Mary these trials for sorcery became numerous, and the crime was subjected to heavier punishment by the 73rd Act of her 9th Parliament. But when James VI. approached to years of discretion, the extreme anxiety which he displayed to penetrate more deeply into mysteries which others had regarded as a very millstone of obscurity, drew still larger attention to the subject. The sovereign had exhausted his talents of investigation on the subject of witchcraft, and credit was given to all who acted in defence of the opinions of the reigning prince. This natural tendency to comply with the opinions of the sovereign was much augmented by the disposition of the Kirk to the same sentiments. We have already said that these venerable persons entertained, with good faith, the general erroneous belief respecting witchcraft--regarding it indeed as a crime which affected their own order more nearly than others in the state, since, especially called to the service of heaven, they were peculiarly bound to oppose the incursions of Satan. The works which remain behind them show, among better things, an unhesitating belief in what were called by them "special providences;" and this was equalled, at least, by their credulity as to the actual interference of evil spirits in the affairs of this world. They applied these principles of belief to the meanest causes. A horse falling lame was a snare of the devil to keep the good clergyman from preaching; the arrival of a skilful farrier was accounted a special providence to defeat the purpose of Satan. This was, doubtless, in a general sense true, since nothing can happen without the foreknowledge and will of Heaven; but we are authorized to believe that the period of supernatural interference has long passed away, and that the great Creator is content to execute his purposes by the operation of those laws which influence the general course of nature. Our ancient Scottish divines thought otherwise. Surrounded, as they conceived themselves, by the snares and temptations of hell, and relying on the aid of Heaven, they entered into war with the kingdom of Satan, as the crusaders of old invaded the land of Palestine, with the same confidence in the justice of their cause and similar indifference concerning the feelings of those whom they accounted the enemies of God and man. We have already seen that even the conviction that a woman was innocent of the crime of witchcraft did not induce a worthy clergyman to use any effort to withdraw her from the stake; and in the same collection[75] there occur some observable passages of God's providence to a godly minister in giving him "full clearness" concerning Bessie Grahame, suspected of witchcraft. The whole detail is a curious illustration of the spirit of credulity which well-disposed men brought with them to such investigations, and how easily the gravest doubts were removed rather than a witch should be left undetected. [Footnote 75: "Satan's Invisible World," by Mr. George Sinclair. The author was Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Glasgow, and afterwards minister of Eastwood, in Renfrewshire.] Bessie Grahame had been committed, it would seem, under suspicions of no great weight, since the minister, after various conferences, found her defence so successful, that he actually pitied her hard usage, and wished for her delivery from prison, especially as he doubted whether a civil court would send her to an assize, or whether an assize would be disposed to convict her. While the minister was in this doubt, a fellow named Begg was employed as a skilful pricker; by whose authority it is not said, he thrust a great brass pin up to the head in a wart on the woman's back, which he affirmed to be the devil's mark. A commission was granted for trial; but still the chief gentlemen in the county refused to act, and the clergyman's own doubts were far from being removed. This put the worthy man upon a solemn prayer to God, "that if he would find out a way for giving the minister full clearness of her guilt, he would acknowledge it as a singular favour and mercy." This, according to his idea, was accomplished in the following manner, which he regarded as an answer to his prayer. One evening the clergyman, with Alexander Simpson, the kirk-officer, and his own servant, had visited Bessie in her cell, to urge her to confession, but in vain. As they stood on the stair-head behind the door, they heard the prisoner, whom they had left alone in her place of confinement, discoursing with another person, who used a low and ghostly tone, which the minister instantly recognised as the Foul Fiend's voice. But for this discovery we should have been of opinion that Bessie Grahame talked to herself, as melancholy and despairing wretches are in the habit of doing. But as Alexander Simpson pretended to understand the sense of what was said within the cell, and the minister himself was pretty sure he heard two voices at the same time, he regarded the overhearing this conversation as the answer of the Deity to his petition, and thenceforth was troubled with no doubts either as to the reasonableness and propriety of his prayer, or the guilt of Bessie Grahame, though she died obstinate, and would not confess; nay, made a most decent and Christian end, acquitting her judges and jury of her blood, in respect of the strong delusion under which they laboured. Although the ministers, whose opinions were but two strongly on this head in correspondence with the prevailing superstitions of the people, nourished in the early system of church government a considerable desire to secure their own immunities and privileges as a national church, which failed not at last to be brought into contact with the king's prerogative; yet in the earlier part of his reign, James, when freed from the influence of such a favourite as the profligate Stuart, Earl of Arran, was in his personal qualities rather acceptable to the clergy of his kingdom and period. At his departing from Scotland on his romantic expedition to bring home a consort from Denmark, he very politically recommended to the clergy to contribute all that lay in their power to assist the civil magistrates, and preserve the public peace of the kingdom. The king after his return acknowledged with many thanks the care which the clergy had bestowed in this particular. Nor were they slack in assuming the merit to themselves, for they often reminded him in their future discords that his kingdom had never been so quiet as during his voyage to Denmark, when the clergy were in a great measure intrusted with the charge of the public government. During the halcyon period of union between kirk and king their hearty agreement on the subject of witchcraft failed not to heat the fires against the persons suspected of such iniquity. The clergy considered that the Roman Catholics, their principal enemies, were equally devoted to the devil, the mass, and the witches, which in their opinion were mutually associated together, and natural allies in the great cause of mischief. On the other hand, the pedantic sovereign having exercised his learning and ingenuity in the Demonologia, considered the execution of every witch who was burnt as a necessary conclusion of his own royal syllogisms. The juries were also afraid of the consequences of acquittal to themselves, being liable to suffer under an assize of error should they be thought to have been unjustly merciful; and as the witches tried were personally as insignificant as the charge itself was odious, there was no restraint whatever upon those in whose hands their fate lay, and there seldom wanted some such confession as we have often mentioned, or such evidence as that collected by the minister who overheard the dialogue between the witch and her master, to salve their consciences and reconcile them to bring in a verdict of guilty. The execution of witches became for these reasons very common in Scotland, where the king seemed in some measure to have made himself a party in the cause, and the clergy esteemed themselves such from the very nature of their profession. But the general spite of Satan and his adherents was supposed to be especially directed against James, on account of his match with Anne of Denmark--the union of a Protestant princess with a Protestant prince, the King of Scotland and heir of England being, it could not be doubted, an event which struck the whole kingdom of darkness with alarm. James was self-gratified by the unusual spirit which he had displayed on his voyage in quest of his bride, and well disposed to fancy that he had performed it in positive opposition, not only to the indirect policy of Elizabeth, but to the malevolent purpose of hell itself. His fleet had been tempest-tost, and he very naturally believed that the prince of the power of the air had been personally active on the occasion. The principal person implicated in these heretical and treasonable undertakings was one Agnes Simpson, or Samson, called the Wise Wife of Keith, and described by Archbishop Spottiswood, not as one of the base or ignorant class of ordinary witches, but a grave matron, composed and deliberate in her answers, which were all to some purpose. This grave dame, from the terms of her indictment, seems to have been a kind of white witch, affecting to cure diseases by words and charms, a dangerous profession considering the times in which she lived. Neither did she always keep the right and sheltered side of the law in such delicate operations. One article of her indictment proves this, and at the same time establishes that the Wise Woman of Keith knew how to turn her profession to account; for, being consulted in the illness of Isobel Hamilton, she gave her opinion that nothing could amend her unless the devil was raised; and the sick woman's husband, startling at the proposal, and being indifferent perhaps about the issue, would not bestow the necessary expenses, whereupon the Wise Wife refused to raise the devil, and the patient died. This woman was principally engaged in an extensive conspiracy to destroy the fleet of the queen by raising a tempest; and to take the king's life by anointing his linen with poisonous materials, and by constructing figures of clay, to be wasted and tormented after the usual fashion of necromancy. Amongst her associates was an unhappy lady of much higher degree. This was Dame Euphane MacCalzean, the widow of a Senator of the College of Justice, and a person infinitely above the rank of the obscure witches with whom she was joined in her crime. Mr. Pitcairn supposes that this connexion may have arisen from her devotion to the Catholic faith and her friendship for the Earl of Bothwell. The third person in this singular league of sorcerers was Doctor John Fian, otherwise Cunninghame, who was schoolmaster at Tranent, and enjoyed much hazardous reputation as a warlock. This man was made the hero of the whole tale of necromancy, in an account of it published at London, and entitled, "News from Scotland," which has been lately reprinted by the Roxburghe Club. It is remarkable that the Scottish witchcrafts were not thought sufficiently horrible by the editor of this tract, without adding to them the story of a philtre being applied to a cow's hair instead of that of the young woman for whom it was designed, and telling how the animal came lowing after the sorcerer to his schoolroom door, like a second Pasiphaë, the original of which charm occurs in the story of Apuleius.[76] [Footnote 76: "Lucii Apuleii Metamorphoses," lib. iii.] Besides these persons, there was one Barbara Napier, alias Douglas, a person of some rank; Geillis Duncan, a very active witch; and about thirty other poor creatures of the lowest condition--among the rest, and doorkeeper to the conclave, a silly old ploughman, called as his nickname Graymeal, who was cuffed by the devil for saying simply, "God bless the king!" When the monarch of Scotland sprung this strong covey of his favourite game, they afforded the Privy Council and him sport for the greatest part of the remaining winter. He attended on the examinations himself, and by one means or or other, they were indifferently well dressed to his palate. Agnes Sampson, the grave matron before mentioned, after being an hour tortured by the twisting of a cord around her head, according to the custom of the Buccaneers, confessed that she had consulted with one Richard Grahame concerning the probable length of the king's life, and the means of shortening it. But Satan, to whom they at length resorted for advice, told them in French respecting King James, _Il est un homme de Dieu_. The poor woman also acknowledged that she had held a meeting with those of her sisterhood, who had charmed a cat by certain spells, having four joints of men knit to its feet, which they threw into the sea to excite a tempest. Another frolic they had when, like the weird sisters in Macbeth, they embarked in sieves with much mirth and jollity, the Fiend rolling himself before them upon the waves, dimly seen, and resembling a huge haystack in size and appearance. They went on board of a foreign ship richly laded with wines, where, invisible to the crew, they feasted till the sport grew tiresome, and then Satan sunk the vessel and all on board. Fian, or Cunninghame, was also visited by the sharpest tortures, ordinary and extraordinary. The nails were torn from his fingers with smith's pincers; pins were driven into the places which the nails usually defended; his knees were crushed in _the boots_, his finger bones were splintered in the pilniewinks. At length his constancy, hitherto sustained, as the bystanders supposed, by the help of the devil, was fairly overcome, and he gave an account of a great witch-meeting at North Berwick, where they paced round the church _withershinns_, that is, in reverse of the motion of the sun. Fian then blew into the lock of the church-door, whereupon the bolts gave way, the unhallowed crew entered, and their master the devil appeared to his servants in the shape of a black man occupying the pulpit. He was saluted with an "Hail, Master!" but the company were dissatisfied with his not having brought a picture of the king, repeatedly promised, which was to place his majesty at the mercy of this infernal crew. The devil was particularly upbraided on this subject by divers respectable-looking females--no question, Euphane MacCalzean, Barbara Napier, Agnes Sampson, and some other amateur witch above those of the ordinary profession. The devil on this memorable occasion forgot himself, and called Fian by his own name, instead of the demoniacal _sobriquet_ of Rob the Rowar, which had been assigned to him as Master of the Rows or Rolls. This was considered as bad taste, and the rule is still observed at every rendezvous of forgers, smugglers, or the like, where it is accounted very indifferent manners to name an individual by his own name, in case of affording ground of evidence which may upon a day of trial be brought against him. Satan, something disconcerted, concluded the evening with a divertisement and a dance after his own manner. The former consisted in disinterring a new-buried corpse, and dividing it in fragments among the company, and the ball was maintained by well-nigh two hundred persons, who danced a ring dance, singing this chant-- "Cummer, gang ye before; Cummer gang ye. Gif ye will not gang before, Cummers, let me." After this choral exhibition, the music seems to have been rather imperfect, the number of dancers considered. Geillis Duncan was the only instrumental performer, and she played on a Jew's harp, called in Scotland a _trump_. Dr. Fian, muffled, led the ring, and was highly honoured, generally acting as clerk or recorder, as above mentioned. King James was deeply interested in those mysterious meetings, and took great delight to be present at the examinations of the accused. He sent for Geillis Duncan, and caused her to play before him the same tune to which Satan and his companions led the brawl in North Berwick churchyard.[77] His ears were gratified in another way, for at this meeting it was said the witches demanded of the devil why he did bear such enmity against the king? who returned the flattering answer that the king was the greatest enemy whom he had in the world. [Footnote 77: The music of this witch tune is unhappily lost. But that of another, believed to have been popular on such occasions, is preserved. "The silly bit chicken, gar cast her a pickle, And she will grow mickle, And she will do good."] Almost all these poor wretches were executed, nor did Euphane MacCalzean's station in life save her from the common doom, which was strangling to death, and burning to ashes thereafter. The majority of the jury which tried Barbara Napier having acquitted her of attendance at the North Berwick meeting, were themselves threatened with a trial for wilful error upon an assize, and could only escape from severe censure and punishment by pleading guilty, and submitting themselves to the king's pleasure. This rigorous and iniquitous conduct shows a sufficient reason why there should be so few acquittals from a charge of witchcraft where the juries were so much at the mercy of the crown. It would be disgusting to follow the numerous cases in which the same uniform credulity, the same extorted confessions, the same prejudiced and exaggerated evidence, concluded in the same tragedy at the stake and the pile. The alterations and trenching which lately took place for the purpose of improving the Castlehill of Edinburgh displayed the ashes of the numbers who had perished in this manner, of whom a large proportion must have been executed between 1590, when the great discovery was made concerning Euphane MacCalzean and the Wise Wife of Keith and their accomplices, and the union of the crowns. Nor did King James's removal to England soften this horrible persecution. In Sir Thomas Hamilton's Minutes of Proceedings in the Privy Council, there occurs a singular entry, evincing plainly that the Earl of Mar, and others of James's Council, were becoming fully sensible of the desperate iniquity and inhumanity of these proceedings. I have modernized the spelling that this appalling record may be legible to all my readers. "1608, December 1. The Earl of Mar declared to the Council that some women were taken in Broughton as witches, and being put to an assize and convicted, albeit they persevered constant in their denial to the end, yet they were burned quick [_alive_] after such a cruel manner that some of them died in despair, renouncing and blaspheming [God]; and others, half burned, brak out of the fire,[78] and were cast quick in it again, till they were burned to the death." [Footnote 78: I am obliged to the kindness of Mr. Pitcairn for this singular extract. The southern reader must be informed that the jurisdiction or regality of Broughton embraced Holyrood, Canongate, Leith, and other suburban parts of Edinburgh, and bore the same relation to that city as the borough of Southwark to London.] This singular document shows that even in the reign of James, so soon as his own august person was removed from Edinburgh, his dutiful Privy Council began to think that they had supt full with horrors, and were satiated with the excess of cruelty which dashed half-consumed wretches back into the flames from which they were striving to escape. But the picture, however much it may have been disgusting and terrifying to the Council at the time, and though the intention of the entry upon the records was obviously for the purpose of preventing such horrid cruelties in future, had no lasting effect on the course of justice, as the severities against witches were most unhappily still considered necessary. Through the whole of the sixteenth, and the greater part of the seventeenth century, little abatement in the persecution of this metaphysical crime of witchcraft can be traced in the kingdom. Even while the Independents held the reins of government, Cromwell himself, and his major-generals and substitutes, were obliged to please the common people of Scotland by abandoning the victims accused of witchcraft to the power of the law, though the journals of the time express the horror and disgust with which the English sectarians beheld a practice so inconsistent with their own humane principle of universal toleration. Instead of plunging into a history of these events which, generally speaking, are in detail as monotonous as they are melancholy, it may amuse the reader to confine the narrative to a single trial, having in the course of it some peculiar and romantic events. It is the tale of a sailor's wife, more tragic in its event than that of the chestnut-muncher in Macbeth.[79] [Footnote 79: A copy of the record of the trial, which took place in Ayrshire, was sent to me by a friend who withheld his name, so that I can only thank him in this general acknowledgment.] Margaret Barclay, wife of Archibald Dein, burgess of Irvine, had been slandered by her sister-in-law, Janet Lyal, the spouse of John Dein, brother of Archibald, and by John Dein himself, as guilty of some act of theft. Upon this provocation Margaret Barclay raised an action of slander before the church court, which prosecution, after some procedure, the kirk-session discharged by directing a reconciliation between the parties. Nevertheless, although the two women shook hands before the court, yet the said Margaret Barclay declared that she gave her hand only in obedience to the kirk-session, but that she still retained her hatred and ill-will against John Dein and his wife, Janet Lyal. About this time the bark of John Dein was about to sail for France, and Andrew Train, or Tran, provost of the burgh of Irvine, who was an owner of the vessel, went with him to superintend the commercial part of the voyage. Two other merchants of some consequence went in the same vessel, with a sufficient number of mariners. Margaret Barclay, the revengeful person already mentioned, was heard to imprecate curses upon the provost's argosy, praying to God that sea nor salt-water might never bear the ship, and that _partans_ (crabs) might eat the crew at the bottom of the sea. When, under these auspices, the ship was absent on her voyage, a vagabond fellow, named John Stewart, pretending to have knowledge of jugglery, and to possess the power of a spaeman, came to the residence of Tran, the provost, and dropped explicit hints that the ship was lost, and that the good woman of the house was a widow. The sad truth was afterwards learned on more certain information. Two of the seamen, after a space of doubt and anxiety, arrived, with the melancholy tidings that the bark, of which John Dein was skipper and Provost Tran part owner, had been wrecked on the coast of England, near Padstow, when all on board had been lost, except the two sailors who brought the notice. Suspicion of sorcery, in those days easily awakened, was fixed on Margaret Barclay, who had imprecated curses on the ship, and on John Stewart, the juggler, who had seemed to know of the evil fate of the voyage before he could have become acquainted with it by natural means. Stewart, who was first apprehended, acknowledged that Margaret Barclay, the other suspected person, had applied to him to teach her some magic arts, "in order that she might get gear, kye's milk, love of man, her heart's desire on such persons as had done her wrong, and, finally, that she might obtain the fruit of sea and land." Stewart declared that he denied to Margaret that he possessed the said arts himself, or had the power of communicating them. So far was well; but, true or false, he added a string of circumstances, whether voluntarily declared or extracted by torture, which tended to fix the cause of the loss of the bark on Margaret Barclay. He had come, he said, to this woman's house in Irvine, shortly after the ship set sail from harbour. He went to Margaret's house by night, and found her engaged, with other two women, in making clay figures; one of the figures was made handsome, with fair hair, supposed to represent Provost Tran. They then proceeded to mould a figure of a ship in clay, and during this labour the devil appeared to the company in the shape of a handsome black lap-dog, such as ladies use to keep.[80] He added that the whole party left the house together, and went into an empty waste-house nearer the seaport, which house he pointed out to the city magistrates. From this house they went to the sea-side, followed by the black lap-dog aforesaid, and cast in the figures of clay representing the ship and the men; after which the sea raged, roared, and became red like the juice of madder in a dyer's cauldron. [Footnote 80: This may remind the reader of Cazotte's "Diable Amoureux."] This confession having been extorted from the unfortunate juggler, the female acquaintances of Margaret Barclay were next convened, that he might point out her associates in forming the charm, when he pitched upon a woman called Isobel Insh, or Taylor, who resolutely denied having ever seen him before. She was imprisoned, however, in the belfry of the church. An addition to the evidence against the poor old woman Insh was then procured from her own daughter, Margaret Tailzeour, _a child of eight years old_, who lived as servant with Margaret Barclay, the person principally accused. This child, who was keeper of a baby belonging to Margaret Barclay, either from terror or the innate love of falsehood which we have observed as proper to childhood, declared that she was present when the fatal models of clay were formed, and that, in plunging them in the sea, Margaret Barclay her mistress, and her mother Isobel Insh, were assisted by another woman, and a girl of fourteen years old, who dwelt at the town-head. Legally considered, the evidence of this child was contradictory and inconsistent with the confession of the juggler, for it assigned other particulars and _dramatis personæ_ in many respects different. But all was accounted sufficiently regular, especially since the girl failed not to swear to the presence of the black dog, to whose appearance she also added the additional terrors of that of a black man. The dog also, according to her account, emitted flashes from its jaws and nostrils to illuminate the witches during the performance of the spell. The child maintained this story even to her mother's face, only alleging that Isobel Insh remained behind in the waste-house, and was not present when the images were put into the sea. For her own countenance and presence on the occasion, and to ensure her secrecy, her mistress promised her a pair of new shoes. John Stewart, being re-examined and confronted with the child, was easily compelled to allow that the "little smatchet" was there, and to give that marvellous account of his correspondence with Elfland which we have noticed elsewhere. The conspiracy thus far, as they conceived, disclosed, the magistrates and ministers wrought hard with Isobel Insh to prevail upon her to tell the truth; and she at length acknowledged her presence at the time when the models of the ship and mariners were destroyed, but endeavoured so to modify her declaration as to deny all personal accession to the guilt. This poor creature almost admitted the supernatural powers imputed to her, promising Bailie Dunlop (also a mariner), by whom she was imprisoned, that, if he would dismiss her, he should never make a bad voyage, but have success in all his dealings by sea and land. She was finally brought to promise that she would fully confess the whole that she knew of the affair on the morrow. But finding herself in so hard a strait, the unfortunate woman made use of the darkness to attempt an escape. With this view she got out by a back window of the belfry, although, says the report, there were "iron bolts, locks, and fetters on her," and attained the roof of the church, where, losing her footing, she sustained a severe fall and was greatly bruised. Being apprehended, Bailie Dunlop again urged her to confess; but the poor woman was determined to appeal to a more merciful tribunal, and maintained her innocence to the last minute of her life, denying all that she had formerly admitted, and dying five days after her fall from the roof of the church. The inhabitants of Irvine attributed her death to poison. The scene began to thicken, for a commission was granted for the trial of the two remaining persons accused, namely, Stewart, the juggler, and Margaret Barclay. The day of trial being arrived, the following singular events took place, which we give as stated in the record:-- "My Lord and Earl of Eglintoune (who dwells within the space of one mile to the said burgh) having come to the said burgh at the earnest request of the said justices, for giving to them of his lordship's countenance, concurrence and assistance, in trying of the foresaid devilish practices, conform to the tenor of the foresaid commission, the said John Stewart, for his better preserving to the day of the assize, was put in a sure lockfast booth, where no manner of person might have access to him till the downsitting of the Justice Court, and for avoiding of putting violent hands on himself, he was very strictly guarded and fettered by the arms, as use is. And upon that same day of the assize, about half an hour before the downsitting of the Justice Court, Mr. David Dickson, minister at Irvine, and Mr. George Dunbar, minister of Air, having gone to him to exhort him to call on his God for mercy for his bygone wicked and evil life, and that God would of his infinite mercy loose him out of the bonds of the devil, whom he had served these many years bygone, he acquiesced in their prayer and godly exhortation, and uttered these words:--"I am so straitly guarded that it lies not in my power to get my hand to take off my bonnet, nor to get bread to my mouth." And immediately after the departing of the two ministers from him, the juggler being sent for at the desire of my Lord of Eglintoune, to be confronted with a woman of the burgh of Air, called Janet Bous, who was apprehended by the magistrates of the burgh of Air for witchcraft, and sent to the burgh of Irvine purposely for that affair, he was found by the burgh officers who went about him, strangled and hanged by the cruik of the door, with a _tait_ of hemp, or a string made of hemp, supposed to have been his garter, or string of his bonnet, not above the length of two span long, his knees not being from the ground half a span, and was brought out of the house, his life not being totally expelled. But notwithstanding of whatsoever means used in the contrary for remeid of his life, he revived not, but so ended his life miserably, by the help of the devil his master. "And because there was then only in life the said Margaret Barclay, and that the persons summoned to pass upon her assize and upon the assize of the juggler who, by the help of the devil his master, had put violent hands on himself, were all present within the said burgh; therefore, and for eschewing of the like in the person of the said Margaret, our sovereign lord's justices in that part particularly above-named, constituted by commission after solemn deliberation and advice of the said noble lord, whose concurrence and advice was chiefly required and taken in this matter, concluded with all possible diligence before the downsitting of the Justice Court to put the said Margaret in torture; in respect the devil, by God's permission, had made her associates who were the lights of the cause, to be their own _burrioes_ (slayers). They used the torture underwritten as being most safe and gentle (as the said noble lord assured the said justices), by putting of her two bare legs in a pair of stocks, and thereafter by onlaying of certain iron gauds (bars) severally one by one, and then eiking and augmenting the weight by laying on more gauds, and in easing of her by offtaking of the iron gauds one or more as occasion offered, which iron gauds were but little short gauds, and broke not the skin of her legs, &c. "After using of the which kind of _gentle torture_, the said Margaret began, according to the increase of the pain, to cry and crave for God's cause to take off her shins the foresaid irons, and she should declare truly the whole matter. Which being removed, she began at her former denial; and being of new essayed in torture as of befoir, she then uttered these words: 'Take off, take off, and before God I shall show you the whole form!' "And the said irons being of new, upon her faithfull promise, removed, she then desired my Lord of Eglintoune, the said four justices, and the said Mr. David Dickson, minister of the burgh, Mr. George Dunbar, minister of Ayr, and Mr. Mitchell Wallace, minister of Kilmarnock, and Mr. John Cunninghame, minister of Dalry, and Hugh Kennedy, provost of Ayr, to come by themselves and to remove all others, and she should declare truly, as she should answer to God the whole matter. Whose desire in that being fulfilled she made her confession in this manner, but (_i.e.,_ without) any kind of demand, freely, without interrogation; God's name by earnest prayer being called upon for opening of her lips, and easing of her heart, that she, by rendering of the truth, might glorify and magnify his holy name, and disappoint the enemy of her salvation."--_Trial of Margaret Barclay, &c_., 1618. Margaret Barclay, who was a young and lively person, had hitherto conducted herself like a passionate and high-tempered woman innocently accused, and the only appearance of conviction obtained against her was, that she carried about her rowan-tree and coloured thread, to make, as she said, her cow give milk, when it began to fail. But the _gentle torture_--a strange junction of words--recommended as an anodyne by the good Lord Eglinton--the placing, namely, her legs in the stocks, and loading her bare shins with bars of iron, overcame her resolution; when, at her screams and declarations that she was willing to tell all, the weights were removed. She then told a story of destroying the ship of John Dein, affirming that it was with the purpose of killing only her brother-in-law and Provost Tran, and saving the rest of the crew. She at the same time involved in the guilt Isobel Crawford. This poor woman was also apprehended, and in great terror confessed the imputed crime, retorting the principal blame on Margaret Barclay herself. The trial was then appointed to proceed, when Alexander Dein, the husband of Margaret Barclay, appeared in court with a lawyer to act in his wife's behalf. Apparently, the sight of her husband awakened some hope and desire of life, for when the prisoner was asked by the lawyer whether she wished to be defended? she answered, "As you please But all I have confest was in agony of torture; and, before God, all I have spoken is false and untrue." To which she pathetically added, "Ye have been too long in coming." The jury, unmoved by these affecting circumstances, proceeded upon the principle that the confession of the accused could not be considered as made under the influence of torture, since the bars were not actually upon her limbs at the time it was delivered, although they were placed at her elbow ready to be again laid on her bare shins, if she was less explicit in her declaration than her auditors wished. On this nice distinction they in one voice found Margaret Barclay guilty. It is singular that she should have again returned to her confession after sentence, and died affirming it; the explanation of which, however, might be either that she had really in her ignorance and folly tampered with some idle spells, or that an apparent penitence for her offence, however imaginary, was the only mode in which she could obtain any share of public sympathy at her death, or a portion of the prayers of the clergy and congregation, which, in her circumstances, she might be willing to purchase, even by confession of what all believed respecting her. It is remarkable that she earnestly entreated the magistrates that no harm should be done to Isobel Crawford, the woman whom she had herself accused. This unfortunate young creature was strangled at the stake, and her body burnt to ashes, having died with many expressions of religion and penitence. It was one fatal consequence of these cruel persecutions, that one pile was usually lighted at the embers of another. Accordingly in the present case, three victims having already perished by this accusation, the magistrates, incensed at the nature of the crime, so perilous as it seemed to men of a maritime life, and at the loss of several friends of their own, one of "whom had been their principal magistrate, did not forbear to insist against Isobel Crawford, inculpated by Margaret Barclay's confession. A new commission was granted for her trial, and after the assistant minister of Irvine, Mr. David Dickson, had made earnest prayers to God for opening her obdurate and closed heart, she was subjected to the torture of iron bars laid upon her bare shins, her feet being in the stocks, as in the case of Margaret Barclay. She endured this torture with incredible firmness, since she did "admirably, without any kind of din or exclamation, suffer above thirty stone of iron to be laid on her legs, never shrinking thereat in any sort, but remaining, as it were, steady." But in shifting the situation of the iron bars, and removing them to another part of her shins, her constancy gave way; she broke out into horrible cries (though not more than three bars were then actually on her person) of--"Tak aff--tak aff!" On being relieved from the torture, she made the usual confession of all that she was charged with, and of a connexion with the devil which had subsisted for several years. Sentence was given against her accordingly. After this had been denounced, she openly denied all her former confessions, and died without any sign of repentance, offering repeated interruption to the minister in his prayer, and absolutely refusing to pardon the executioner. This tragedy happened in the year 1613, and recorded, as it is, very particularly and at considerable length, forms the most detailed specimen I have met with of a Scottish trial for witchcraft--illustrating, in particular, how poor wretches, abandoned, as they conceived, by God and the world, deprived of all human sympathy, and exposed to personal tortures of an acute description, became disposed to throw away the lives that were rendered bitter to them by a voluntary confession of guilt, rather than struggle hopelessly against so many evils. Four persons here lost their lives, merely because the throwing some clay models into the sea, a fact told differently by the witnesses who spoke of it, corresponded with the season, for no day was fixed in which a particular vessel was lost. It is scarce possible that, after reading such a story, a man of sense can listen for an instant to the evidence founded on confessions thus obtained, which has been almost the sole reason by which a few individuals, even in modern times, have endeavoured to justify a belief in the existence of witchcraft. The result of the judicial examination of a criminal, when extorted by such means, is the most suspicious of all evidence, and even when voluntarily given, is scarce admissible without the corroboration of other testimony. We might here take leave of our Scottish history of witchcraft by barely mentioning that many hundreds, nay perhaps thousands, lost their lives during two centuries on such charges and such evidence as proved the death of those persons in the trial of the Irvine witches. One case, however, is so much distinguished by fame among the numerous instances which occurred in Scottish history, that we are under the necessity of bestowing a few words upon those celebrated persons, Major Weir and his sister. The case of this notorious wizard was remarkable chiefly from his being a man of some condition (the son of a gentleman, and his mother a lady of family in Clydesdale), which was seldom the case with those that fell under similar accusations. It was also remarkable in his case that he had been a Covenanter, and peculiarly attached to that cause. In the years of the Commonwealth this man was trusted and employed by those who were then at the head of affairs, and was in 1649 commander of the City-Guard of Edinburgh, which procured him his title of Major. In this capacity he was understood, as was indeed implied in the duties of that officer at the period, to be very strict in executing severity upon such Royalists as fell under his military charge. It appears that the Major, with a maiden sister who had kept his house, was subject to fits of melancholic lunacy, an infirmity easily reconcilable with the formal pretences which he made to a high show of religious zeal. He was peculiar in his gift of prayer, and, as was the custom of the period, was often called to exercise his talent by the bedside of sick persons, until it came to be observed that, by some association, which it is more easy to conceive than to explain, he could not pray with the same warmth and fluency of expression unless when he had in his hand a stick of peculiar shape and appearance, which he generally walked with. It was noticed, in short, that when this stick was taken from him, his wit and talent appeared to forsake him. This Major Weir was seized by the magistrates on a strange whisper that became current respecting vile practices, which he seems to have admitted without either shame or contrition. The disgusting profligacies which he confessed were of such a character that it may be charitably hoped most of them were the fruits of a depraved imagination, though he appears to have been in many respects a wicked and criminal hypocrite. When he had completed his confession, he avowed solemnly that he had not confessed the hundredth part of the crimes which he had committed. From this time he would answer no interrogatory, nor would he have recourse to prayer, arguing that, as he had no hope whatever of escaping Satan, there was no need of incensing him by vain efforts at repentance. His witchcraft seems to have been taken for granted on his own confession, as his indictment was chiefly founded on the same document, in which he alleged he had never seen the devil, but any feeling he had of him was in the dark. He received sentence of death, which he suffered 12th April, 1670, at the Gallow-hill, between Leith and Edinburgh. He died so stupidly sullen and impenitent as to justify the opinion that he was oppressed with a kind of melancholy frenzy, the consequence perhaps of remorse, but such as urged him not to repent, but to despair. It seems probable that he was burnt alive. His sister, with whom he was supposed to have had an incestuous connexion, was condemned also to death, leaving a stronger and more explicit testimony of their mutual sins than could be extracted from the Major. She gave, as usual, some account of her connexion with the queen of the fairies, and acknowledged the assistance she received from that sovereign in spinning an unusual quantity of yam. Of her brother she said that one day a friend called upon them at noonday with a fiery chariot, and invited them to visit a friend at Dalkeith, and that while there her brother received information of the event of the battle of Worcester. No one saw the style of their equipage except themselves. On the scaffold this woman, determining, as she said, to die "with the greatest shame possible," was with difficulty prevented from throwing off her clothes before the people, and with scarce less trouble was she flung from the ladder by the executioner. Her last words were in the tone of the sect to which her brother had so long affected to belong: "Many," she said, "weep and lament for a poor old wretch like me; but alas! few are weeping for a broken Covenant." The Scottish prelatists, upon whom the Covenanters used to throw many aspersions respecting their receiving proof against shot from the devil, and other infernal practices, rejoiced to have an opportunity, in their turn, to retort on their adversaries the charge of sorcery. Dr. Hickes, the author of "Thesaurus Septentrionalis," published on the subject of Major Weir, and the case of Mitchell, who fired at the Archbishop of St. Andrews his book called "Ravaillac Redivivus," written with the unjust purpose of attaching to the religious sect to which the wizard and assassin belonged the charge of having fostered and encouraged the crimes they committed or attempted. It is certain that no story of witchcraft or necromancy, so many of which occurred near and in Edinburgh, made such a lasting impression on the public mind as that of Major Weir. The remains of the house in which he and his sister lived are still shown at the head of the West Bow, which has a gloomy aspect, well suited for a necromancer. It was at different times a brazier's shop and a magazine for lint, and in my younger days was employed for the latter use; but no family would inhabit the haunted walls as a residence; and bold was the urchin from the High School who dared approach the gloomy ruin at the risk of seeing the Major's enchanted staff parading through the old apartments, or hearing the hum of the necromantic wheel, which procured for his sister such a character as a spinner. At the time I am writing this last fortress of superstitious renown is in the course of being destroyed, in order to the modern improvements now carrying on in a quarter long thought unimprovable. As knowledge and learning began to increase, the gentlemen and clergy of Scotland became ashamed of the credulity of their ancestors, and witch trials, although not discontinued, more seldom disgrace our records of criminal jurisprudence. Sir John Clerk, a scholar and an antiquary, the grandfather of the late celebrated John Clerk of Eldin, had the honour to be amongst the first to decline acting as a commissioner on the trial of a witch, to which he was appointed so early as 1678,[81] alleging, drily, that he did not feel himself warlock (that is, conjurer) sufficient to be a judge upon such an inquisition. Allan Ramsay, his friend, and who must be supposed to speak the sense of his many respectable patrons, had delivered his opinion on the subject in the "Gentle Shepherd," where Mause's imaginary witchcraft constitutes the machinery of the poem. [Footnote 81: See Fountainhall's "Decisions," vol. i. p. 15.] Yet these dawnings of sense and humanity were obscured by the clouds of the ancient superstition on more than one distinguished occasion. In 1676, Sir George Maxwell, of Pollock, apparently a man of melancholic and valetudinary habits, believed himself bewitched to death by six witches, one man and five women, who were leagued for the purpose of tormenting a clay image in his likeness. The chief evidence on the subject was a vagabond girl, pretending to be deaf and dumb. But as her imposture was afterwards discovered and herself punished, it is reasonably to be concluded that she had herself formed the picture or image of Sir George, and had hid it where it was afterwards found in consequence of her own information. In the meantime, five of the accused were executed, and the sixth only escaped on account of extreme youth. A still more remarkable case occurred at Paisley in 1697, where a young girl, about eleven years of age, daughter of John Shaw, of Bargarran, was the principal evidence. This unlucky damsel, beginning her practices out of a quarrel with a maid-servant, continued to imitate a case of possession so accurately that no less than twenty persons were condemned upon her evidence, of whom five were executed, besides one John Reed, who hanged himself in prison, or, as was charitably said, was strangled by the devil in person, lest he should make disclosures to the detriment of the service. But even those who believed in witchcraft were now beginning to open their eyes to the dangers in the present mode of prosecution. "I own," says the Rev. Mr. Bell in his MS. "Treatise on Witchcraft," "there has been much harm done to worthy and innocent persons in the common way of finding out witches, and in the means made use of for promoting the discovery of such wretches and bringing them to justice; so that oftentimes old age, poverty, features, and ill-fame, with such like grounds not worthy to be represented to a magistrate, have yet moved many to suspect and defame their neighbours, to the unspeakable prejudice of Christian charity; a late instance whereof we had in the west, in the business of the sorceries exercised upon the Laird of Bargarran's daughter, anno 1697--a time when persons of more goodness and esteem than most of their calumniators were defamed for witches, and which was occasioned mostly by the forwardness and absurd credulity of diverse otherwise worthy ministers of the gospel, and some topping professors in and about the city of Glasgow."[82] [Footnote 82: Law's "Memorialls," edited by C.K. Sliarpe, Esq.: Prefatory Notice, p. 93.] Those who doubted of the sense of the law or reasonableness of the practice in such cases, began to take courage and state their objections boldly. In the year 1704 a frightful instance of popular bigotry occurred at Pittenweem. A strolling vagabond, who affected fits, laid an accusation of witchcraft against two women, who were accordingly seized on, and imprisoned with the usual severities. One of the unhappy creatures, Janet Cornfoot by name, escaped from prison, but was unhappily caught, and brought back to Pittenweem, where she fell into the hands of a ferocious mob, consisting of rude seamen and fishers. The magistrates made no attempts for her rescue, and the crowd exercised their brutal pleasure on the poor old woman, pelted her with stones, swung her suspended on a rope betwixt a ship and the shore, and finally ended her miserable existence by throwing a door over her as she lay exhausted on the beach, and heaping stones upon it till she was pressed to death. As even the existing laws against witchcraft were transgressed by this brutal riot, a warm attack was made upon the magistrates and ministers of the town by those who were shocked at a tragedy of such a horrible cast, There were answers published, in which the parties assailed were zealously defended. The superior authorities were expected to take up the affair, but it so happened; during the general distraction of the country concerning the Union, that the murder went without the investigation which a crime so horrid demanded. Still, however, it was something gained that the cruelty was exposed to the public. The voice of general opinion was now appealed to, and in the long run the sentiments which it advocates are commonly those of good sense and humanity. The officers in the higher branches of the law dared now assert their official authority and reserve for their own decision cases of supposed witchcraft which the fear of public clamour had induced them formerly to leave in the hands of inferior judges, operated upon by all the prejudices of the country and the populace. In 1718, the celebrated lawyer, Robert Dundas of Arniston, then King's Advocate, wrote a severe letter of censure to the Sheriff-depute of Caithness, in the first place, as having neglected to communicate officially certain precognitions which he had led respecting some recent practices of witchcraft in his county. The Advocate reminded this local judge that the duty of inferior magistrates, in such cases, was to advise with the King's Counsel, first, whether they should be made subject of a trial or not; and if so, before what court, and in what manner, it should take place. He also called the magistrate's attention to a report, that he, the Sheriff-depute, intended to judge in the case himself; "a thing of too great difficulty to be tried without very deliberate advice, and beyond the jurisdiction of an inferior court." The Sheriff-depute sends, with his apology, the _precognition_[83] of the affair, which is one of the most nonsensical in this nonsensical department of the law. A certain carpenter, named William Montgomery, was so infested with cats, which, as his servant-maid reported, "spoke among themselves," that he fell in a rage upon a party of these animals which had assembled in his house at irregular hours, and betwixt his Highland arms of knife, dirk, and broadsword, and his professional weapon of an axe, he made such a dispersion that they were quiet for the night. In consequence of his blows, two witches were said to have died. The case of a third, named Nin-Gilbert, was still more remarkable. Her leg being broken, the injured limb withered, pined, and finally fell off; on which the hag was enclosed in prison, where she also died; and the question which remained was, whether any process should be directed against persons whom, in her compelled confession, she had, as usual, informed against. The Lord Advocate, as may be supposed, quashed all further procedure. [Footnote 83: The _precognition_ is the record of the preliminary evidence on which the public officers charged in Scotland with duties entrusted to a grand jury in England, incur the responsibility of sending an accused person to trial.] In 1720, an unlucky boy, the third son of James, Lord Torphichen, took it into his head, under instructions, it is said, from a knavish governor, to play the possessed and bewitched person, laying the cause of his distress on certain old witches in Calder, near to which village his father had his mansion. The women were imprisoned, and one or two of them died; but the Crown counsel would not proceed to trial. The noble family also began to see through the cheat. The boy was sent to sea, and though he is said at one time to have been disposed to try his fits while on board, when the discipline of the navy proved too severe for his cunning, in process of time he became a good sailor, assisted gallantly in defence of the vessel against the pirates of Angria, and finally was drowned in a storm. In the year 1722, a Sheriff-depute of Sutherland, Captain David Ross of Littledean, took it upon him, in flagrant violation of the then established rules of jurisdiction, to pronounce the last sentence of death for witchcraft which was ever passed in Scotland. The victim was an insane old woman belonging to the parish of Loth, who had so little idea of her situation as to rejoice at the sight of the fire which was destined to consume her. She had a daughter lame both of hands and feet, a circumstance attributed to the witch's having been used to transform her into a pony, and get her shod by the devil. It does not appear that any punishment was inflicted for this cruel abuse of the law on the person of a creature so helpless; but the son of the lame daughter, he himself distinguished by the same misfortune, was living so lately as to receive the charity of the present Marchioness of Stafford, Countess of Sutherland in her own right, to whom the poor of her extensive country are as well known as those of the higher order. Since this deplorable action there has been no judicial interference in Scotland on account of witchcraft, unless to prevent explosions of popular enmity against people suspected of such a crime, of which some instances could be produced. The remains of the superstition sometimes occur; there can be no doubt that the vulgar are still addicted to the custom of scoring above the breath[84] (as it is termed), and other counter-spells, evincing that the belief in witchcraft is only asleep, and might in remote corners be again awakened to deeds of blood. An instance or two may be quoted chiefly as facts known to the author himself. [Footnote 84: Drawing blood, that is, by two cuts in the form of a cross on the witch's forehead, confided in all throughout Scotland as the most powerful counter charm.] In a remote part of the Highlands, an ignorant and malignant woman seems really to have meditated the destruction of her neighbour's property, by placing in a cow-house, or byre as we call it, a pot of baked clay containing locks of hair, parings of nails, and other trumpery. This precious spell was discovered, the design conjectured, and the witch would have been torn to pieces had not a high-spirited and excellent lady in the neighbourhood gathered some of her people (though these were not very fond of the service), and by main force taken the unfortunate creature out of the hands of the populace. The formidable spell is now in my possession. About two years since, as they were taking down the walls of a building formerly used as a feeding-house for cattle, in the town of Dalkeith, there was found below the threshold-stone the withered heart of some animal stuck full of many scores of pins--a counter-charm, according to tradition, against the operations of witchcraft on the cattle which are kept within. Among the almost innumerable droves of bullocks which come down every year from the Highlands for the south, there is scarce one but has a curious knot upon his tail, which is also a precaution lest an evil eye or an evil spell may do the animal harm. The last Scottish story with which I will trouble you happened in or shortly after the year 1800, and the whole circumstances are well known to me. The dearth of the years in the end of the eighteenth and beginning of this century was inconvenient to all, but distressing to the poor. A solitary old woman, in a wild and lonely district, subsisted chiefly by rearing chickens, an operation requiring so much care and attention that the gentry, and even the farmers' wives, often find it better to buy poultry at a certain age than to undertake the trouble of bringing them up. As the old woman in the present instance fought her way through life better than her neighbours, envy stigmatized her as having some unlawful mode of increasing the gains of her little trade, and apparently she did not take much alarm at the accusation. But she felt, like others, the dearth of the years alluded to, and chiefly because the farmers were unwilling to sell grain in the very moderate quantities which she was able to purchase, and without which her little stock of poultry must have been inevitably starved. In distress on this account, the dame went to a neighbouring farmer, a very good-natured, sensible, honest man, and requested him as a favour to sell her a peck of oats at any price. "Good neighbour," he said, "I am sorry to be obliged to refuse you, but my corn is measured out for Dalkeith market; my carts are loaded to set out, and to open these sacks again, and for so small a quantity, would cast my accounts loose, and create much trouble and disadvantage; I dare say you will get all you want at such a place, or such a place." On receiving this answer, the old woman's temper gave way. She scolded the wealthy farmer, and wished evil to his property, which was just setting off for the market. They parted, after some angry language on both sides; and sure enough, as the carts crossed the ford of the river beneath the farm-house, off came the wheel from one of them, and five or six sacks of corn were damaged by the water. The good farmer hardly knew what to think of this; there were the two circumstances deemed of old essential and sufficient to the crime of witchcraft--_Damnum minatum, et malum secutum_. Scarce knowing what to believe, he hastened to consult the sheriff of the county, as a friend rather than a magistrate, upon a case so extraordinary. The official person showed him that the laws against witchcraft were abrogated, and had little difficulty to bring him to regard the matter in its true light of an accident. It is strange, but true, that the accused herself was not to be reconciled to the sheriffs doctrine so easily. He reminded her that, if she used her tongue with so much license, she must expose herself to suspicions, and that should coincidences happen to irritate her neighbours, she, might suffer harm at a time when there was no one to protect her. He therefore requested her to be more cautious in her language for her own sake, professing, at the same time, his belief that her words and intentions were perfectly harmless, and that he had no apprehension of being hurt by her, let her wish her worst to him. She was rather more angry than pleased at the well-meaning sheriffs scepticism. "I would be laith to wish ony ill either to you or yours, sir," she said; "for I kenna how it is, but something aye comes after my words when I am ill-guided and speak ower fast." In short, she was obstinate in claiming an influence over the destiny of others by words and wishes, which might have in other times conveyed her to the stake, for which her expressions, their consequences, and her disposition to insist upon their efficacy, would certainly of old have made her a fit victim. At present the story is scarcely worth mentioning, but as it contains material resembling those out of which many tragic incidents have arisen. So low, in short, is now the belief in witchcraft, that perhaps it is only received by those half-crazy individuals who feel a species of consequence derived from accidental coincidences, which, were they received by the community in general, would go near, as on former occasions, to cost the lives of those who make their boast of them. At least one hypochondriac patient is known to the author, who believes himself the victim of a gang of witches, and ascribes his illness to their charms, so that he wants nothing but an indulgent judge to awake again the old ideas of sorcery. LETTER X. Other Mystic Arts independent of Witchcraft--Astrology--Its Influence during the 16th and 17th Centuries--Base Ignorance of those who practised it--Lilly's History of his Life and Times--Astrologer's Society--Dr. Lamb--Dr. Forman--Establishment of the Royal Society--Partridge--Connexion of Astrologers with Elementary Spirits--Dr. Dun--Irish Superstition of the Banshie--Similar Superstition in the Highlands--Brownie--Ghosts--Belief of Ancient Philosophers on that Subject--Inquiry into the respect due to such Tales in Modern Times--Evidence of a Ghost against a Murderer--Ghost of Sir George Villiers--Story of Earl St. Vincent--Of a British General Officer--Of an Apparition in France--Of the Second Lord Lyttelton--Of Bill Jones--Of Jarvis Matcham--Trial of two Highlanders for the Murder of Sergeant Davis, discovered by a Ghost--Disturbances at Woodstock, anno 1649--Imposture called the Stockwell Ghost--Similar Case in Scotland--Ghost appearing to an Exciseman--Story of a Disturbed House discovered by the firmness of the Proprietor--Apparition at Plymouth--A Club of Philosophers--Ghost Adventure of a Farmer--Trick upon a Veteran Soldier--Ghost Stories recommended by the Skill of the Authors who compose them--Mrs. Veal's Ghost--Dunton's Apparition Evidence--Effect of Appropriate Scenery to Encourage a Tendency to Superstition--Differs at distant Periods of Life--Night at Glammis Castle about 1791--Visit to Dunvegan in 1814. While the vulgar endeavoured to obtain a glance into the darkness of futurity by consulting the witch or fortune-teller, the great were supposed to have a royal path of their own, commanding a view from a loftier quarter of the same _terra incognita_. This was represented as accessible by several routes. Physiognomy, chiromancy, and other fantastic arts of prediction afforded each its mystical assistance and guidance. But the road most flattering to human vanity, while it was at the same time most seductive to human credulity, was that of astrology, the queen of mystic sciences, who flattered those who confided in her that the planets and stars in their spheres figure forth and influence the fate of the creatures of mortality, and that a sage acquainted with her lore could predict, with some approach to certainty, the events of any man's career, his chance of success in life or in marriage, his advance in favour of the great, or answer any other horary questions, as they were termed, which he might be anxious to propound, provided always he could supply the exact moment of his birth. This, in the sixteenth and greater part of the seventeenth centuries, was all that was necessary to enable the astrologer to erect a scheme of the position of the heavenly bodies, which should disclose the life of the interrogator, or Native, as he was called, with all its changes, past, present, and to come. Imagination was dazzled by a prospect so splendid; and we find that in the sixteenth century the cultivation of this fantastic science was the serious object of men whose understandings and acquirements admit of no question. Bacon himself allowed the truth which might be found in a well-regulated astrology, making thus a distinction betwixt the art as commonly practised and the manner in which it might, as he conceived, be made a proper use of. But a grave or sober use of this science, if even Bacon could have taught such moderation, would not have suited the temper of those who, inflamed by hopes of temporal aggrandizement, pretended to understand and explain to others the language of the stars. Almost all the other paths of mystic knowledge led to poverty; even the alchemist, though talking loud and high of the endless treasures his art was to produce, lived from day to day and from year to year upon hopes as unsubstantial as the smoke of his furnace. But the pursuits of the astrologer were such as called for instant remuneration. He became rich by the eager hopes and fond credulity of those who consulted him, and that artist lived by duping others, instead of starving, like others, by duping himself. The wisest men have been cheated by the idea that some supernatural influence upheld and guided them; and from the time of Wallenstein to that of Buonaparte, ambition and success have placed confidence in the species of fatalism inspired by a belief of the influence of their own star. Such being the case, the science was little pursued by those who, faithful in their remarks and reports, must soon have discovered its delusive vanity through the splendour of its professions; and the place of such calm and disinterested pursuers of truth was occupied by a set of men sometimes ingenious, always forward and assuming, whose knowledge was imposition, whose responses were, like the oracles of yore, grounded on the desire of deceit, and who, if sometimes they were elevated into rank and fortune, were more frequently found classed with rogues and vagabonds. This was the more apt to be the case that a sufficient stock of impudence, and some knowledge by rote of the terms of art, were all the store of information necessary for establishing a conjurer. The natural consequence of the degraded character of the professors was the degradation of the art itself. Lilly, who wrote the history of his own life and times, notices in that curious volume the most distinguished persons of his day, who made pretensions to astrology, and almost without exception describes them as profligate, worthless, sharking cheats, abandoned to vice, and imposing, by the grossest frauds, upon the silly fools who consulted them. From what we learn of his own history, Lilly himself, a low-born ignorant man, with some gloomy shades of fanaticism in his temperament, was sufficiently fitted to dupe others, and perhaps cheated himself merely by perusing, at an advanced period of life, some of the astrological tracts devised by men of less cunning, though perhaps more pretence to science, than he himself might boast. Yet the public still continue to swallow these gross impositions, though coming from such unworthy authority. The astrologers embraced different sides of the Civil War, and the king on one side, with the Parliamentary leaders on the other, were both equally curious to know, and eager to believe, what Lilly, Wharton, or Gadbury had discovered from the heavens touching the fortune of the strife. Lilly was a prudent person, contriving with some address to shift the sails of his prophetic bark so as to suit the current of the time, and the gale of fortune. No person could better discover from various omens the course of Charles's misfortunes, so soon as they had come to pass. In the time of the Commonwealth he foresaw the perpetual destruction of the monarchy, and in 1660 this did not prevent his foreseeing the restoration of Charles II. He maintained some credit even among the better classes, for Aubrey and Ashmole both called themselves his friends, being persons extremely credulous, doubtless, respecting the mystic arts. Once a year, too, the astrologers had a public dinner or feast, where the knaves were patronised by the company of such fools as claimed the title of Philomaths--that is, lovers of the mathematics, by which name were still distinguished those who encouraged the pursuit of mystical prescience, the most opposite possible to exact science. Elias Ashmole, the "most honourable Esquire," to whom Lilly's life is dedicated, seldom failed to attend; nay, several men of sense and knowledge honoured this rendezvous. Congreve's picture of a man like Foresight, the dupe of astrology and its sister arts, was then common in society. But the astrologers of the 17th century did not confine themselves to the stars. There was no province of fraud which they did not practise; they were scandalous as panders, and as quacks sold potions for the most unworthy purposes. For such reasons the common people detested the astrologers of the great as cordially as they did the more vulgar witches of their own sphere. Dr. Lamb, patronised by the Duke of Buckingham, who, like other overgrown favourites, was inclined to cherish astrology, was in 1640 pulled to pieces in the city of London by the enraged populace, and his maid-servant, thirteen years afterwards, hanged as a witch at Salisbury. In the villanous transaction of the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury, in King James's time, much mention was made of the art and skill of Dr. Forman, another professor of the same sort with Lamb, who was consulted by the Countess of Essex on the best mode of conducting her guilty intrigue with the Earl of Somerset. He was dead before the affair broke out, which might otherwise have cost him the gibbet, as it did all others concerned, with the exception only of the principal parties, the atrocious authors of the crime. When the cause was tried, some little puppets were produced in court, which were viewed by one party with horror, as representing the most horrid spells. It was even said that the devil was about to pull down the court-house on their being discovered. Others of the audience only saw in them the baby figures on which the dressmakers then, as now, were accustomed to expose new fashions. The erection of the Royal Society, dedicated to far different purposes than the pursuits of astrology, had a natural operation in bringing the latter into discredit; and although the credulity of the ignorant and uninformed continued to support some pretenders to that science, the name of Philomath, assumed by these persons and their clients, began to sink under ridicule and contempt. When Sir Richard Steele set up the paper called the _Guardian_, he chose, under the title of Nestor Ironside, to assume the character of an astrologer, and issued predictions accordingly, one of which, announcing the death of a person called Partridge, once a shoemaker, but at the time the conductor of an Astrological Almanack, led to a controversy, which was supported with great humour by Swift and other wags. I believe you will find that this, with Swift's Elegy on the same person, is one of the last occasions in which astrology has afforded even a jest to the good people of England. This dishonoured science has some right to be mentioned in a "Treatise on Demonology," because the earlier astrologers, though denying the use of all necromancy--that is, unlawful or black magic--pretended always to a correspondence with the various spirits of the elements, on the principles of the Rosicrucian philosophy. They affirmed they could bind to their service, and imprison in a ring, a mirror, or a stone, some fairy, sylph, or salamander, and compel it to appear when called, and render answers to such questions as the viewer should propose. It is remarkable that the sage himself did not pretend to see the spirit; but the task of viewer, or reader, was entrusted to a third party, a boy or girl usually under the years of puberty. Dr. Dee, an excellent mathematician, had a stone of this kind, and is said to have been imposed upon concerning the spirits attached to it, their actions and answers, by the report of one Kelly who acted as his viewer. The unfortunate Dee was ruined by his associates both in fortune and reputation. His show-stone or mirror is still preserved among other curiosities in the British Museum. Some superstition of the same kind was introduced by the celebrated Count Cagliostro, during the course of the intrigue respecting the diamond necklace in which the late Marie Antoinette was so unfortunately implicated. Dismissing this general class of impostors, who are now seldom heard of, we come now briefly to mention some leading superstitions once, perhaps, common to all the countries of Europe, but now restricted to those which continue to be inhabited by an undisturbed and native race. Of these, one of the most beautiful is the Irish fiction which assigns to certain families of ancient descent and distinguished rank the privilege of a Banshie, as she is called, or household fairy, whose office it is to appear, seemingly mourning, while she announces the approaching death of some one of the destined race. The subject has been so lately and beautifully investigated and illustrated by Mr. Crofton Croker and others, that I may dispense with being very particular regarding it. If I am rightly informed, the distinction of a banshie is only allowed to families of the pure Milesian stock, and is never ascribed to any descendant of the proudest Norman or boldest Saxon who followed the banner of Earl Strongbow, much less to adventurers of later date who have obtained settlements in the Green Isle. Several families of the Highlands of Scotland anciently laid claim to the distinction of an attendant spirit who performed the office of the Irish banshie. Amongst them, however, the functions of this attendant genius, whose form and appearance differed in different cases, were not limited to announcing the dissolution of those whose days were numbered. The Highlanders contrived to exact from them other points of service, sometimes as warding off dangers of battle; at others, as guarding and protecting the infant heir through the dangers of childhood; and sometimes as condescending to interfere even in the sports of the chieftain, and point out the fittest move to be made at chess, or the best card to be played at any other game. Among those spirits who have deigned to vouch their existence by appearance of late years, is that of an ancestor of the family of MacLean of Lochbuy. Before the death of any of his race the phantom-chief gallops along the sea-beach near to the castle, announcing the event by cries and lamentations. The spectre is said to have rode his rounds and uttered his death-cries within these few years, in consequence of which the family and clan, though much shocked, were in no way surprised to hear by next accounts that their gallant chief was dead at Lisbon, where he served under Lord Wellington. Of a meaner origin and occupation was the Scottish Brownie, already mentioned as somewhat resembling Robin Goodfellow in the frolicsome days of Old England. This spirit was easily banished, or, as it was styled, hired away, by the offer of clothes or food; but many of the simple inhabitants could little see the prudence of parting with such a useful domestic drudge, who served faithfully, without fee and reward, food or raiment. Neither was it all times safe to reject Brownie's assistance. Thus, we are informed by Brand, that a young man in the Orkneys "used to brew, and sometimes read upon his Bible; to whom an old woman in the house said, that Brownie was displeased with that book he read upon, which, if he continued to do, they would get no more service of Brownie; but he, being better instructed from that book, which was Brownie's eyesore and the object of his wrath, when he brewed, would not suffer any sacrifice to be given to Brownie; whereupon the first and second brewings were spoilt, and for no use; for though the wort wrought well, yet in a little time it left off working, and grew cold; but of the third broust, or brewing, he had ale very good, though he would not give any sacrifice to Brownie, with whom afterwards they were no more troubled." Another story of the same kind is told of a lady in Uist, who refused, on religious grounds, the usual sacrifice to this domestic spirit. The first and second brewings failed, but the third succeeded; and thus, when Brownie lost the perquisite to which he had been so long accustomed, he abandoned the inhospitable house, where his services had so long been faithfully rendered. The last place in the south of Scotland supposed to have been honoured, or benefited, by the residence of a Brownie, was Bodsbeck in Moffatdale, which has been the subject of an entertaining tale by Mr. James Hogg, the self-instructed genius of Ettrick Forest. These particular superstitions, however, are too limited, and too much obliterated from recollection, to call for special discussion. The general faith in fairies has already undergone our consideration; but something remains to be said upon another species of superstition, so general that it may be called proper to mankind in every climate; so deeply rooted also in human belief, that it is found to survive in states of society during which all other fictions of the same order are entirely dismissed from influence. Mr. Crabbe, with his usual felicity, has called the belief in ghosts "the last lingering fiction of the brain." Nothing appears more simple at the first view of the subject, than that human memory should recall and bring back to the eye of the imagination, in perfect similitude, even the very form and features of a person with whom we have been long conversant, or which have been imprinted in our minds with indelible strength by some striking circumstances touching our meeting in life. The son does not easily forget the aspect of an affectionate father; and, for reasons opposite but equally powerful, the countenance of a murdered person is engraved upon the recollection of his slayer. A thousand additional circumstances, far too obvious to require recapitulation, render the supposed apparition of the dead the most ordinary spectral phenomenon which is ever believed to occur among the living. All that we have formerly said respecting supernatural appearances in general, applies with peculiar force to the belief of ghosts; for whether the cause of delusion exists in an excited imagination or a disordered organic system, it is in this way that it commonly exhibits itself. Hence Lucretius himself, the most absolute of sceptics, considers the existence of ghosts, and their frequent apparition, as facts so undeniable that he endeavours to account for them at the expense of assenting to a class of phenomena very irreconcilable to his general system. As he will not allow of the existence of the human soul, and at the same time cannot venture to question the phenomena supposed to haunt the repositories of the dead, he is obliged to adopt the belief that the body consists of several coats like those of an onion, and that the outmost and thinnest, being detached by death, continues to wander near the place of sepulture, in the exact resemblance of the person while alive. We have said there are many ghost stories which we do not feel at liberty to challenge as impostures, because we are confident that those who relate them on their own authority actually believe what they assert, and may have good reason for doing so, though there is no real phantom after all. We are far, therefore, from averring that such tales are necessarily false. It is easy to suppose the visionary has been imposed upon by a lively dream, a waking reverie, the excitation of a powerful imagination, or the misrepresentation of a diseased organ of sight; and in one or other of these causes, to say nothing of a system of deception which may in many instances be probable, we apprehend a solution will be found for all cases of what are called real ghost stories. In truth, the evidence with respect to such apparitions is very seldom accurately or distinctly questioned. A supernatural tale is in most cases received as an agreeable mode of amusing society, and he would be rather accounted a sturdy moralist than an entertaining companion who should employ himself in assailing its credibility. It would indeed be a solecism in manners, something like that of impeaching the genuine value of the antiquities exhibited by a good-natured collector for the gratification of his guests. This difficulty will appear greater should a company have the rare good fortune to meet the person who himself witnessed the wonders which he tells; a well-bred or prudent man will, under such circumstances, abstain from using the rules of cross-examination practised in a court of justice; and if in any case he presumes to do so, he is in danger of receiving answers, even from the most candid and honourable persons, which are rather fitted to support the credit of the story which they stand committed to maintain, than to the pure service of unadorned truth. The narrator is asked, for example, some unimportant question with respect to the apparition; he answers it on the hasty suggestion of his own imagination, tinged as it is with belief of the general fact, and by doing so often gives a feature of minute evidence which was before wanting, and this with perfect unconsciousness on his own part. It is a rare occurrence, indeed, to find an opportunity of dealing with an actual ghost-seer; such instances, however, I have certainly myself met with, and that in the case of able, wise, candid, and resolute persons, of whose veracity I had every reason to be confident. But in such instances shades of mental aberration have afterwards occurred, which sufficiently accounted for the supposed apparitions, and will incline me always to feel alarmed in behalf of the continued health of a friend who should conceive himself to have witnessed such a visitation. The nearest approximation which can be generally made to exact evidence in this case, is the word of some individual who has had the story, it may be, from the person to whom it has happened, but most likely from his family, or some friend of the family. Far more commonly the narrator possesses no better means of knowledge than that of dwelling in the country where the thing happened, or being well acquainted with the outside of the mansion in the inside of which the ghost appeared. In every point the evidence of such a second-hand retailer of the mystic story must fall under the adjudged case in an English court. The judge stopped a witness who was about to give an account of the murder upon trial, as it was narrated to him by the ghost of the murdered person. "Hold, sir," said his lordship; "the ghost is an excellent witness, and his evidence the best possible; but he cannot be heard by proxy in this court. Summon him hither, and I'll hear him in person; but your communication is mere hearsay, which my office compels me to reject." Yet it is upon the credit of one man, who pledges it upon that of three or four persons, who have told it successively to each other, that we are often expected to believe an incident inconsistent with the laws of Nature, however agreeable to our love of the wonderful and the horrible. In estimating the truth or falsehood of such stories it is evident we can derive no proofs from that period of society when men affirmed boldly, and believed stoutly, all the wonders which could be coined or fancied. That such stories are believed and told by grave historians, only shows that the wisest men cannot rise in all things above the general ignorance of their age. Upon the evidence of such historians we might as well believe the portents of ancient or the miracles of modern Rome. For example, we read in Clarendon of the apparition of the ghost of Sir George Villiers to an ancient dependant. This is no doubt a story told by a grave author, at a time when such stories were believed by all the world; but does it follow that our reason must acquiesce in a statement so positively contradicted by the voice of Nature through all her works? The miracle of raising a dead man was positively refused by our Saviour to the Jews, who demanded it as a proof of his mission, because they had already sufficient grounds of conviction; and, as they believed them not, it was irresistibly argued by the Divine Person whom they tempted, that neither would they believe if one arose from the dead. Shall we suppose that a miracle refused for the conversion of God's chosen people was sent on a vain errand to save the life of a profligate spendthrift? I lay aside, you observe, entirely the not unreasonable supposition that Towers, or whatever was the ghost-seer's name, desirous to make an impression upon Buckingham, as an old servant of his house, might be tempted to give him his advice, of which we are not told the import, in the character of his father's spirit, and authenticate the tale by the mention of some token known to him as a former retainer of the family. The Duke was superstitious, and the ready dupe of astrologers and soothsayers. The manner in which he had provoked the fury of the people must have warned every reflecting person of his approaching fate; and, the age considered, it was not unnatural that a faithful friend should take this mode of calling his attention to his perilous situation. Or, if we suppose that the incident was not a mere pretext to obtain access to the Duke's ear, the messenger may have been impressed upon by an idle dream--in a word, numberless conjectures might be formed for accounting for the event in a natural way, the most extravagant of which is more probable than that the laws of Nature were broken through in order to give a vain and fruitless warning to an ambitious minion. It is the same with all those that are called accredited ghost stories usually told at the fireside. They want evidence. It is true that the general wish to believe, rather than power of believing, has given some such stories a certain currency in society. I may mention, as one of the class of tales I mean, that of the late Earl St. Vincent, who watched, with a friend, it is said, a whole night, in order to detect the cause of certain nocturnal disturbances which took place in a certain mansion. The house was under lease to Mrs. Ricketts, his sister. The result of his lordship's vigil is said to have been that he heard the noises without being able to detect the causes, and insisted on his sister giving up the house. This is told as a real story, with a thousand different circumstances. But who has heard or seen an authentic account from Earl St. Vincent, or from his "companion of the watch," or from his lordship's sister? And as in any other case such sure species of direct evidence would be necessary to prove the facts, it seems unreasonable to believe such a story on slighter terms. When the particulars are precisely fixed and known, it might be time to enquire whether Lord St. Vincent, amid the other eminent qualities of a first-rate seaman, might not be in some degree tinged with their tendency to superstition; and still farther, whether, having ascertained the existence of disturbances not immediately or easily detected, his lordship might not advise his sister rather to remove than to remain in a house so haunted, though he might believe that poachers or smugglers were the worst ghosts by whom it was disturbed. The story of two highly respectable officers in the British army, who are supposed to have seen the spectre of the brother of one of them in a hut, or barrack, in America, is also one of those accredited ghost tales, which attain a sort of brevet rank as true, from the mention of respectable names as the parties who witnessed the vision. But we are left without a glimpse when, how, and in what terms, this story obtained its currency; as also by whom, and in what manner, it was first circulated; and among the numbers by whom it has been quoted, although all agree in the general event, scarcely two, even of those who pretend to the best information, tell the story in the same way. Another such story, in which the name of a lady of condition is made use of as having seen an apparition in a country-seat in France, is so far better borne out than those I have mentioned, that I have seen a narrative of the circumstances attested by the party principally concerned. That the house was disturbed seems to be certain, but the circumstances (though very remarkable) did not, in my mind, by any means exclude the probability that the disturbance and appearances were occasioned by the dexterous management of some mischievously-disposed persons. The remarkable circumstance of Thomas, the second Lord Lyttelton, prophesying his own death within a few minutes, upon the information of an apparition, has been always quoted as a true story. But of late it has been said and published, that the unfortunate nobleman had previously determined to take poison, and of course had it in his own power to ascertain the execution of the prediction. It was no doubt singular that a man, who meditated his exit from the world, should have chosen to play such a trick on his friends. But it is still more credible that a whimsical man should do so wild a thing, than that a messenger should be sent from the dead to tell a libertine at what precise hour he should expire. To this list other stories of the same class might be added. But it is sufficient to show that such stories as these, having gained a certain degree of currency in the world, and bearing creditable names on their front, walk through society unchallenged, like bills through a bank when they bear respectable indorsations, although, it may be, the signatures are forged after all. There is, indeed, an unwillingness very closely to examine such subjects, for the secret fund of superstition in every man's bosom is gratified by believing them to be true, or at least induces him to abstain from challenging them as false. And no doubt it must happen that the transpiring of incidents, in which men have actually seen, or conceived that they saw, apparitions which were invisible to others, contributes to the increase of such stories--which do accordingly sometimes meet us in a shape of veracity difficult to question. The following story was narrated to me by my friend, Mr. William Clerk, chief clerk to the Jury Court, Edinburgh, when he first learned it, now nearly thirty years ago, from a passenger in the mail-coach. With Mr. Clerk's consent, I gave the story at that time to poor Mat Lewis, who published it with a ghost-ballad which he adjusted on the same theme. From the minuteness of the original detail, however, the narrative is better calculated for prose than verse; and more especially as the friend to whom it was originally communicated is one of the most accurate, intelligent, and acute persons whom I have known in the course of my life, I am willing to preserve the precise story in this place. It was about the eventful year 1800, when the Emperor Paul laid his ill-judged embargo on British trade, that my friend Mr. William Clerk, on a journey to London, found himself in company, in the mail-coach, with a seafaring man of middle age and respectable appearance, who announced himself as master of a vessel in the Baltic trade, and a sufferer by the embargo. In the course of the desultory conversation which takes place on such occasions the seaman observed, in compliance with a common superstition, "I wish we may have good luck on our journey--there is a magpie." "And why should that be unlucky?" said my friend. "I cannot tell you that," replied the sailor; "but all the world agrees that one magpie bodes bad luck--two are not so bad, but three are the devil. I never saw three magpies but twice, and once I had near lost my vessel, and the second I fell from a horse, and was hurt." This conversation led Mr. Clerk to observe that he supposed he believed also in ghosts, since he credited such auguries. "And if I do," said the sailor, "I may have my own reasons for doing so;" and he spoke this in a deep and serious manner, implying that he felt deeply what he was saying. On being further urged, he confessed that, if he could believe his own eyes, there was one ghost at least which he had seen repeatedly. He then told his story as I now relate it. Our mariner had in his youth gone mate of a slave vessel from Liverpool, of which town he seemed to be a native. The captain of the vessel was a man of a variable temper, sometimes kind and courteous to his men, but subject to fits of humour, dislike, and passion, during which he was very violent, tyrannical, and cruel. He took a particular dislike at one sailor aboard, an elderly man, called Bill Jones, or some such name. He seldom spoke to this person without threats and abuse, which the old man, with the license which sailors take on merchant vessels, was very apt to return. On one occasion Bill Jones appeared slow in getting out on the yard to hand a sail. The captain, according to custom, abused the seaman as a lubberly rascal, who got fat by leaving his duty to other people. The man made a saucy answer, almost amounting to mutiny, on which, in a towering passion, the captain ran down to his cabin, and returned with a blunderbuss loaded with slugs, with which he took deliberate aim at the supposed mutineer, fired, and mortally wounded him. The man was handed down from the yard, and stretched on the deck, evidently dying. He fixed his eyes on the captain, and said, "Sir, you have done for me, but _I will never leave you_" The captain, in return, swore at him for a fat lubber, and said he would have him thrown into the slave-kettle, where they made food for the negroes, and see how much fat he had got. The man died. His body was actually thrown into the slave-kettle, and the narrator observed, with a _naïveté_ which confirmed the extent of his own belief in the truth of what he told, "There was not much fat about him after all." The captain told the crew they must keep absolute silence on the subject of what had passed; and as the mate was not willing to give an explicit and absolute promise, he ordered him to be confined below. After a day or two he came to the mate, and demanded if he had an intention to deliver him up for trial when the vessel got home. The mate, who was tired of close confinement in that sultry climate, spoke his commander fair, and obtained his liberty. When he mingled among the crew once more he found them impressed with the idea, not unnatural in their situation, that the ghost of the dead man appeared among them when they had a spell of duty, especially if a sail was to be handed, on which occasion the spectre was sure to be out upon the yard before any of the crew. The narrator had seen this apparition himself repeatedly--he believed the captain saw it also, but he took no notice of it for some time, and the crew, terrified at the violent temper of the man, dared not call his attention to it. Thus they held on their course homeward with great fear and anxiety. At length, the captain invited the mate, who was now in a sort of favour, to go down to the cabin and take a glass of grog with him. In this interview he assumed a very grave and anxious aspect. "I need not tell you, Jack," he said, "what sort of hand we have got on board with us. He told me he would never leave me, and he has kept his word. You only see him now and then, but he is always by my side, and never out of my sight. At this very moment I see him--I am determined to bear it no longer, and I have resolved to leave you." The mate replied that his leaving the vessel while out of the sight of any land was impossible. He advised, that if the captain apprehended any bad consequences from what had happened, he should run for the west of France or Ireland, and there go ashore, and leave him, the mate, to carry the vessel into Liverpool. The captain only shook his head gloomily, and reiterated his determination to leave the ship. At this moment the mate was called to the deck for some purpose or other, and the instant he got up the companion-ladder he heard a splash in the water, and looking over the ship's side, saw that the captain had thrown himself into the sea from the quarter-gallery, and was running astern at the rate of six knots an hour. When just about to sink he seemed to make a last exertion, sprung half out of the water, and clasped his hands towards the mate, calling, "By----, Bill is with me now!" and then sunk, to be seen no more. After hearing this singular story Mr. Clerk asked some questions about the captain, and whether his companion considered him as at all times rational. The sailor seemed struck with the question, and answered, after a moment's delay, that in general _he conversationed well enough_. It would have been desirable to have been able to ascertain how far this extraordinary tale was founded on fact; but want of time and other circumstances prevented Mr. Clerk from learning the names and dates, that might to a certain degree have verified the events. Granting the murder to have taken place, and the tale to have been truly told, there was nothing more likely to arise among the ship's company than the belief in the apparition; as the captain was a man of a passionate and irritable disposition, it was nowise improbable that he, the victim of remorse, should participate in the horrible visions of those less concerned, especially as he was compelled to avoid communicating his sentiments with any one else; and the catastrophe would in such a case be but the natural consequence of that superstitious remorse which has conducted so many criminals to suicide or the gallows. If the fellow-traveller of Mr. Clerk be not allowed this degree of credit, he must at least be admitted to have displayed a singular talent for the composition of the horrible in fiction. The tale, properly detailed, might have made the fortune of a romancer. I cannot forbear giving you, as congenial to this story, another instance of a guilt-formed phantom, which made considerable noise about twenty years ago or more. I am, I think, tolerably correct in the details, though I have lost the account of the trial. Jarvis Matcham--such, if I am not mistaken, was the name of my hero--was pay-sergeant in a regiment, where he was so highly esteemed as a steady and accurate man that he was permitted opportunity to embezzle a considerable part of the money lodged in his hands for pay of soldiers, bounty of recruits (then a large sum), and other charges which fell within his duty. He was summoned to join his regiment from a town where he had been on the recruiting service, and this perhaps under some shade of suspicion. Matcham perceived discovery was at hand, and would have deserted had it not been for the presence of a little drummer lad, who was the only one of his party appointed to attend him. In the desperation of his crime he resolved to murder the poor boy, and avail himself of some balance of money to make his escape. He meditated this wickedness the more readily that the drummer, he thought, had been put as a spy on him. He perpetrated his crime, and changing his dress after the deed was done, made a long walk across the country to an inn on the Portsmouth road, where he halted and went to bed, desiring to be called when the first Portsmouth coach came. The waiter summoned him accordingly, but long after remembered that, when he shook the guest by the shoulder, his first words as he awoke were: "My God! I did not kill him." Matcham went to the seaport by the coach, and instantly entered as an able-bodied landsman or marine, I know not which. His sobriety and attention to duty gained him the same good opinion of the officers in his new service which he had enjoyed in the army. He was afloat for several years, and behaved remarkably well in some actions. At length the vessel came into Plymouth, was paid off, and some of the crew, amongst whom was Jarvis Matcham, were dismissed as too old for service. He and another seaman resolved to walk to town, and took the route by Salisbury. It was when within two or three miles of this celebrated city that they were overtaken by a tempest so sudden, and accompanied with such vivid lightning and thunder so dreadfully loud, that the obdurate conscience of the old sinner began to be awakened. He expressed more terror than seemed natural for one who was familiar with the war of elements, and began to look and talk so wildly that his companion became aware that something more than usual was the matter. At length Matcham complained to his companion that the stones rose from the road and flew after him. He desired the man to walk on the other side of the highway to see if they would follow him when he was alone. The sailor complied, and Jarvis Matcham complained that the stones still flew after him and did not pursue the other. "But what is worse," he added, coming up to his companion, and whispering, with a tone of mystery and fear, "who is that little drummer-boy, and what business has he to follow us so closely?" "I can see no one," answered the seaman, infected by the superstition of his associate. "What! not see that little boy with the bloody pantaloons!" exclaimed the secret murderer, so much to the terror of his comrade that he conjured him, if he had anything on his mind, to make a clear conscience as far as confession could do it. The criminal fetched a deep groan, and declared that he was unable longer to endure the life which he had led for years. He then confessed the murder of the drummer, and added that, as a considerable reward had been offered, he wished his comrade to deliver him up to the magistrates of Salisbury, as he would desire a shipmate to profit by his fate, which he was now convinced was inevitable. Having overcome his friend's objections to this mode of proceeding, Jarvis Matcham was surrendered to justice accordingly, and made a full confession of his guilt But before the trial the love of life returned. The prisoner denied his confession, and pleaded Not Guilty. By this time, however, full evidence had been procured from other quarters. Witnesses appeared from his former regiment to prove his identity with the murderer and deserter, and the waiter remembered the ominous words which he had spoken when he awoke him to join the Portsmouth coach. Jarvis Matcham was found guilty and executed. When his last chance of life was over he returned to his confession, and with his dying breath averred, and truly, as he thought, the truth of the vision on Salisbury Plain. Similar stories might be produced, showing plainly that, under the direction of Heaven, the influence of superstitious fear may be the appointed means of bringing the criminal to repentance for his own sake, and to punishment for the advantage of society. Cases of this kind are numerous and easily imagined, so I shall dwell on them no further; but rather advert to at least an equally abundant class of ghost stories, in which the apparition is pleased not to torment the actual murderer, but proceeds in a very circuitous manner, acquainting some stranger or ignorant old woman with the particulars of his fate, who, though perhaps unacquainted with all the parties, is directed by a phantom to lay the facts before a magistrate. In this respect we must certainly allow that ghosts have, as we are informed by the facetious Captain Grose, forms and customs peculiar to themselves. There would be no edification and little amusement in treating of clumsy deceptions of this kind, where the grossness of the imposture detects itself. But occasionally cases occur like the following, with respect to which it is more difficult, to use James Boswell's phrase, "to know what to think." Upon the 10th of June, 1754, Duncan Terig, _alias_ Clark, and Alexander Bain MacDonald, two Highlanders, were tried before the Court of Justiciary, Edinburgh, for the murder of Arthur Davis, sergeant in Guise's regiment, on the 28th September, 1749. The accident happened not long after the civil war, the embers of which were still reeking, so there existed too many reasons on account of which an English soldier, straggling far from assistance, might be privately cut off by the inhabitants of these wilds. It appears that Sergeant Davis was missing for years, without any certainty as to his fate. At length, an account of the murder appeared from the evidence of one Alexander MacPherson (a Highlander, speaking no language but Gaelic, and sworn by an interpreter), who gave the following extraordinary account of his cause of knowledge:--He was, he said, in bed in his cottage, when an apparition came to his bedside and commanded him to rise and follow him out of doors. Believing his visitor to be one Farquharson, a neighbour and friend, the witness did as he was bid; and when they were without the cottage, the appearance told the witness he was the ghost of Sergeant Davis, and requested him to go and bury his mortal remains, which lay concealed in a place he pointed out in a moorland tract called the Hill of Christie. He desired him to take Farquharson with him as an assistant. Next day the witness went to the place specified, and there found the bones of a human body much decayed. The witness did not at that time bury the bones so found, in consequence of which negligence the sergeant's ghost again appeared to him, upbraiding him with his breach of promise. On this occasion the witness asked the ghost who were the murderers, and received for answer that he had been slain by the prisoners at the bar. The witness, after this second visitation, called the assistance of Farquharson, and buried the body. Farquharson was brought in evidence to prove that the preceding witness, MacPherson, had called him to the burial of the bones, and told him the same story which he repeated in court. Isabel MacHardie, a person who slept in one of the beds which run along the wall in an ordinary Highland hut, declared that upon the night when MacPherson said he saw the ghost, she saw a naked man enter the house and go towards MacPherson's bed. Yet though the supernatural incident was thus fortified, and although there were other strong presumptions against the prisoners, the story of the apparition threw an air of ridicule on the whole evidence for the prosecution. It was followed up by the counsel for the prisoners asking, in the cross-examination of MacPherson, "What language did the ghost speak in?" The witness, who was himself ignorant of English, replied, "As good Gaelic as I ever heard in Lochaber." "Pretty well for the ghost of an English sergeant," answered the counsel. The inference was rather smart and plausible than sound, for, the apparition of the ghost being admitted, we know too little of the other world to judge whether all languages may not be alike familiar to those who belonged to it. It imposed, however, on the jury, who found the accused parties not guilty, although their counsel and solicitor and most of the court were satisfied of their having committed the murder. In this case the interference of the ghost seems to have rather impeded the vengeance which it was doubtless the murdered sergeant's desire to obtain. Yet there may be various modes of explaining this mysterious story, of which the following conjecture may pass for one. The reader may suppose that MacPherson was privy to the fact of the murder, perhaps as an accomplice or otherwise, and may also suppose that, from motives of remorse for the action, or of enmity to those who had committed it, he entertained a wish to bring them to justice. But through the whole Highlands there is no character more detestable than that of an informer, or one who takes what is called Tascal-money, or reward for discovery of crimes. To have informed against Terig and MacDonald might have cost MacPherson his life; and it is far from being impossible that he had recourse to the story of the ghost, knowing well that his superstitious countrymen would pardon his communicating the commission entrusted to him by a being from the other world, although he might probably have been murdered if his delation of the crime had been supposed voluntary. This explanation, in exact conformity with the sentiments of the Highlanders on such subjects, would reduce the whole story to a stroke of address on the part of the witness. It is therefore of the last consequence, in considering the truth of stories of ghosts and apparitions, to consider the possibility of wilful deception, whether on the part of those who are agents in the supposed disturbances, or the author of the legend. We shall separately notice an instance or two of either kind. The most celebrated instance in which human agency was used to copy the disturbances imputed to supernatural beings refers to the ancient palace of Woodstock, when the Commissioners of the Long Parliament came down to dispark what had been lately a royal residence. The Commissioners arrived at Woodstock, 13th October, 1649, determined to wipe away the memory of all that connected itself with the recollection of monarchy in England. But in the course of their progress they were encountered by obstacles which apparently came from the next world. Their bed-chambers were infested with visits of a thing resembling a dog, but which came and passed as mere earthly dogs cannot do. Logs of wood, the remains of a very large tree called the King's Oak, which they had splintered into billets for burning, were tossed through the house, and the chairs displaced and shuffled about. While they were in bed the feet of their couches were lifted higher than their heads, and then dropped with violence. Trenchers "without a wish" flew at their heads of free will. Thunder and lightning came next, which were set down to the same cause. Spectres made their appearance, as they thought, in different shapes, and one of the party saw the apparition of a hoof, which kicked a candlestick and lighted candle into the middle of the room, and then politely scratched on the red snuff to extinguish it. Other and worse tricks were practised on the astonished Commissioners who, considering that all the fiends of hell were let loose upon them, retreated from Woodstock without completing an errand which was, in their opinion, impeded by infernal powers, though the opposition offered was rather of a playful and malicious than of a dangerous cast. The whole matter was, after the Restoration, discovered to be the trick of one of their own party, who had attended the Commissioners as a clerk, under the name of Giles Sharp. This man, whose real name was Joseph Collins of Oxford, called _Funny Joe_, was a concealed loyalist, and well acquainted with the old mansion of Woodstock, where he had been brought up before the Civil War. Being a bold, active spirited man, Joe availed himself of his local knowledge of trap-doors and private passages so as to favour the tricks which he played off upon his masters by aid of his fellow-domestics. The Commissioners' personal reliance on him made his task the more easy, and it was all along remarked that trusty Giles Sharp saw the most extraordinary sights and visions among the whole party. The unearthly terrors experienced by the Commissioners are detailed with due gravity by Sinclair, and also, I think, by Dr. Plott. But although the detection or explanation of the real history of the Woodstock demons has also been published, and I have myself seen it, I have at this time forgotten whether it exists in a separate collection, or where it is to be looked for. Similar disturbances have been often experienced while it was the custom to believe in and dread such frolics of the invisible world, and under circumstances which induce us to wonder, both at the extreme trouble taken by the agents in these impostures, and the slight motives from which they have been induced to do much wanton mischief. Still greater is our modern surprise at the apparently simple means by which terror has been excited to so general an extent, that even the wisest and most prudent have not escaped its contagious influence. On the first point I am afraid there can be no better reason assigned than the conscious pride of superiority, which induces the human being in all cases to enjoy and practise every means of employing an influence over his fellow-mortals; to which we may safely add that general love of tormenting, as common to our race as to that noble mimick of humanity, the monkey. To this is owing the delight with which every school-boy anticipates the effects of throwing a stone into a glass shop; and to this we must also ascribe the otherwise unaccountable pleasure which individuals have taken in practising the tricksy pranks of a goblin, and filling a household or neighbourhood with anxiety and dismay, with little gratification to themselves besides the consciousness of dexterity if they remain undiscovered, and with the risk of loss of character and punishment should the imposture be found out. In the year 1772, a train of transactions, commencing upon Twelfth Day, threw the utmost consternation into the village of Stockwell, near London, and impressed upon some of its inhabitants the inevitable belief that they were produced by invisible agents. The plates, dishes, china, and glass-ware and small movables of every kind, contained in the house of Mrs. Golding, an elderly lady, seemed suddenly to become animated, shifted their places, flew through the room, and were broken to pieces. The particulars of this commotion were as curious as the loss and damage occasioned in this extraordinary manner were alarming and intolerable. Amidst this combustion, a young woman, Mrs. Golding's maid, named Anne Robinson, was walking backwards and forwards, nor could she be prevailed on to sit down for a moment excepting while the family were at prayers, during which time no disturbance happened. This Anne Robinson had been but a few days in the old lady's service, and it was remarkable that she endured with great composure the extraordinary display which others beheld with terror, and coolly advised her mistress not to be alarmed or uneasy, as these things could not be helped. This excited an idea that she had some reason for being so composed, not inconsistent with a degree of connexion with what was going forward. The afflicted Mrs. Golding, as she might be well termed, considering such a commotion and demolition among her goods and chattels, invited neighbours to stay in her house, but they soon became unable to bear the sight of these supernatural proceedings, which went so far that not above two cups and saucers remained out of a valuable set of china. She next abandoned her dwelling, and took refuge with a neighbour, but, finding his movables were seized with the same sort of St. Vitus's dance, her landlord reluctantly refused to shelter any longer a woman who seemed to be persecuted by so strange a subject of vexation. Mrs. Golding's suspicions against Anne Robinson now gaining ground, she dismissed her maid, and the hubbub among her movables ceased at once and for ever. This circumstance of itself indicates that Anne Robinson was the cause of these extraordinary disturbances, as has been since more completely ascertained by a Mr. Brayfield, who persuaded Anne, long after the events had happened, to make him her confidant. There was a love story connected with the case, in which the only magic was the dexterity of Anne Robinson and the simplicity of the spectators. She had fixed long horse hairs to some of the crockery, and placed wires under others, by which she could throw them down without touching them. Other things she dexterously threw about, which the spectators, who did not watch her motions, imputed to invisible agency. At times, when the family were absent, she loosened the hold of the strings by which the hams, bacon, and similar articles were suspended, so that they fell on the slightest motion. She employed some simple chemical secrets, and, delighted with the success of her pranks, pushed them farther than she at first intended. Such was the solution of the whole mystery, which, known by the name of the Stockwell ghost, terrified many well-meaning persons, and had been nearly as famous as that of Cock Lane, which may be hinted at as another imposture of the same kind. So many and wonderful are the appearances described, that when I first met with the original publication I was strongly impressed with the belief that the narrative was like some of Swift's advertisements, a jocular experiment upon the credulity of the public. But it was certainly published _bona fide_, and Mr. Hone, on the authority of Mr. Brayfield, has since fully explained the wonder.[85] [Footnote 85: See Hone's "Every-Day Book," p. 62.] Many such impositions have been detected, and many others have been successfully concealed; but to know what has been discovered in many instances gives us the assurance of the ruling cause in all. I remember a scene of the kind attempted to be got up near Edinburgh, but detected at once by a sheriff's officer, a sort of persons whose habits of incredulity and suspicious observation render them very dangerous spectators on such occasions. The late excellent Mr. Walker, minister at Dunottar, in the Mearns, gave me a curious account of an imposture of this kind, practised by a young country girl, who was surprisingly quick at throwing stones, turf, and other missiles, with such dexterity that it was for a long time impossible to ascertain her agency in the disturbances of which she was the sole cause. The belief of the spectators that such scenes of disturbance arise from invisible beings will appear less surprising if we consider the common feats of jugglers, or professors of legerdemain, and recollect that it is only the frequent exhibition of such powers which reconciles us to them as matters of course, although they are wonders at which in our fathers' time men would have cried out either sorcery or miracles. The spectator also, who has been himself duped, makes no very respectable appearance when convicted of his error; and thence, if too candid to add to the evidence of supernatural agency, is yet unwilling to stand convicted by cross-examination, of having been imposed on, and unconsciously becomes disposed rather to colour more highly than the truth, than acquiesce in an explanation resting on his having been too hasty a believer. Very often, too, the detection depends upon the combination of certain circumstances, which, apprehended, necessarily explain the whole story. For example, I once heard a sensible and intelligent friend in company express himself convinced of the truth of a wonderful story, told him by an intelligent and bold man, about an apparition. The scene lay in an ancient castle on the coast of Morven or the Isle of Mull, where the ghost-seer chanced to be resident. He was given to understand by the family, when betaking himself to rest, that the chamber in which he slept was occasionally disquieted by supernatural appearances. Being at that time no believer in such stories, he attended little to this hint, until the witching hour of night, when he was awakened from a dead sleep by the pressure of a human hand on his body. He looked up at the figure of a tall Highlander, in the antique and picturesque dress of his country, only that his brows were bound with a bloody bandage. Struck with sudden and extreme fear, he was willing to have sprung from bed, but the spectre stood before him in the bright moonlight, its one arm extended so as to master him if he attempted to rise; the other hand held up in a warning and grave posture, as menacing the Lowlander if he should attempt to quit his recumbent position. Thus he lay in mortal agony for more than an hour, after which it pleased the spectre of ancient days to leave him to more sound repose. So singular a story had on its side the usual number of votes from the company, till, upon cross-examination, it was explained that the principal person concerned was an exciseman. After which _eclaircissement_ the same explanation struck all present, viz., the Highlanders of the mansion had chosen to detain the exciseman by the apparition of an ancient heroic ghost, in order to disguise from his vigilance the removal of certain modern enough spirits, which his duty might have called upon him to seize. Here a single circumstance explained the whole ghost story. At other times it happens that the meanness and trifling nature of a cause not very obvious to observation has occasioned it to be entirely overlooked, even on account of that very meanness, since no one is willing to acknowledge that he has been alarmed by a cause of little consequence, and which he would be ashamed of mentioning. An incident of this sort happened to a gentleman of birth and distinction, who is well known in the political world, and was detected by the precision of his observation. Shortly after he succeeded to his estate and title, there was a rumour among his servants concerning a strange noise heard in the family mansion at night, the cause of which they had found it impossible to trace. The gentleman resolved to watch himself, with a domestic who had grown old in the family, and who had begun to murmur strange things concerning the knocking having followed so close upon the death of his old master. They watched until the noise was heard, which they listened to with that strange uncertainty attending midnight sounds which prevents the hearers from immediately tracing them to the spot where they arise, while the silence of the night generally occasions the imputing to them more than the due importance which they would receive if mingled with the usual noises of daylight. At length the gentleman and his servant traced the sounds which they had repeatedly heard to a small store-room used as a place for keeping provisions of various kinds for the family, of which the old butler had the key. They entered this place, and remained there for some time without hearing the noises which they had traced thither; at length the sound was heard, but much lower than it had formerly seemed to be, while acted upon at a distance by the imagination of the hearers. The cause was immediately discovered. A rat caught in an old-fashioned trap had occasioned this tumult by its efforts to escape, in which it was able to raise the trap-door of its prison to a certain height, but was then obliged to drop it. The noise of the fall, resounding through the house, had occasioned the disturbance which, but for the cool investigation of the proprietor, might easily have established an accredited ghost story. The circumstance was told me by the gentleman to whom it happened. There are other occasions in which the ghost story is rendered credible by some remarkable combination of circumstances very unlikely to have happened, and which no one could have supposed unless some particular fortune occasioned a discovery. An apparition which took place at Plymouth is well known, but it has been differently related; and having some reason to think the following edition correct, it is an incident so much to my purpose that you must pardon its insertion. A club of persons connected with science and literature was formed at the great sea-town I have named. During the summer months the society met in a cave by the sea-shore; during those of autumn and winter they convened within the premises of a tavern, but, for the sake of privacy, had their meetings in a summer-house situated in the garden, at a distance from the main building. Some of the members to whom the position of their own dwellings rendered this convenient, had a pass-key to the garden-door, by which they could enter the garden and reach the summer-house without the publicity or trouble of passing through the open tavern. It was the rule of this club that its members presided alternately. On one occasion, in the winter, the president of the evening chanced to be very ill; indeed, was reported to be on his death-bed. The club met as usual, and, from a sentiment of respect, left vacant the chair which ought to have been occupied by him if in his usual health; for the same reason, the conversation turned upon the absent gentleman's talents, and the loss expected to the society by his death. While they were upon this melancholy theme, the door suddenly opened, and the appearance of the president entered the room. He wore a white wrapper, a nightcap round his brow, the appearance of which was that of death itself. He stalked into the room with unusual gravity, took the vacant place of ceremony, lifted the empty glass which stood before him, bowed around, and put it to his lips; then replaced it on the table, and stalked out of the room as silent as he had entered it. The company remained deeply appalled; at length, after many observations on the strangeness of what they had seen, they resolved to dispatch two of their number as ambassadors, to see how it fared with the president, who had thus strangely appeared among them. They went, and returned with the frightful intelligence that the friend after whom they had enquired was that evening deceased. The astonished party then resolved that they would remain absolutely silent respecting the wonderful sight which they had seen. Their habits were too philosophical to permit them to believe that they had actually seen the ghost of their deceased brother, and at the same time they were too wise men to wish to confirm the superstition of the vulgar by what might seem indubitable evidence of a ghost. The affair was therefore kept a strict secret, although, as usual, some dubious rumours of the tale found their way to the public. Several years afterwards, an old woman who had long filled the place of a sick-nurse, was taken very ill, and on her death-bed was attended by a medical member of the philosophical club. To him, with many expressions of regret, she acknowledged that she had long before attended Mr.----, naming the president whose appearance had surprised the club so strangely, and that she felt distress of conscience on account of the manner in which he died. She said that as his malady was attended by light-headedness, she had been directed to keep a close watch upon him during his illness. Unhappily she slept, and during her sleep the patient had awaked and left the apartment. When, on her own awaking, she found the bed empty and the patient gone, she forthwith hurried out of the house to seek him, and met him in the act of returning. She got him, she said, replaced in bed, but it was only to die there. She added, to convince her hearer of the truth of what she said, that immediately after the poor gentleman expired, a deputation of two members from the club came to enquire after their president's health, and received for answer that he was already dead. This confession explained the whole matter. The delirious patient had very naturally taken the road to the club, from some recollections of his duty of the night. In approaching and retiring from the apartment he had used one of the pass-keys already mentioned, which made his way shorter. On the other hand, the gentlemen sent to enquire after his health had reached his lodging by a more circuitous road; and thus there had been time for him to return to what proved his death-bed, long before they reached his chamber. The philosophical witnesses of this strange scene were now as anxious to spread the story as they had formerly been to conceal it, since it showed in what a remarkable manner men's eyes might turn traitors to them, and impress them with ideas far different from the truth. Another occurrence of the same kind, although scarcely so striking in its circumstances, was yet one which, had it remained unexplained, might have passed as an indubitable instance of a supernatural apparition. A Teviotdale farmer was riding from a fair, at which he had indulged himself with John Barleycorn, but not to that extent of defying goblins which it inspired into the gallant Tam o'Shanter. He was pondering with some anxiety upon the dangers of travelling alone on a solitary road which passed the corner of a churchyard, now near at hand, when he saw before him in the moonlight a pale female form standing upon the very wall which surrounded the cemetery. The road was very narrow, with no opportunity of giving the apparent phantom what seamen call a wide berth. It was, however, the only path which led to the rider's home, who therefore resolved, at all risks, to pass the apparition. He accordingly approached, as slowly as possible, the spot where the spectre stood, while the figure remained, now perfectly still and silent, now brandishing its arms and gibbering to the moon. When the farmer came close to the spot he dashed in the spurs and set the horse off upon a gallop; but the spectre did not miss its opportunity. As he passed the corner where she was perched, she contrived to drop behind the horseman and seize him round the waist, a manoeuvre which greatly increased the speed of the horse and the terror of the rider; for the hand of her who sat behind him, when pressed upon his, felt as cold as that of a corpse. At his own house at length he arrived, and bid the servants who came to attend him, "Tak aff the ghaist!" They took off accordingly a female in white, and the poor farmer himself was conveyed to bed, where he lay struggling for weeks with a strong nervous fever. The female was found to be a maniac, who had been left a widow very suddenly by an affectionate husband, and the nature and cause of her malady induced her, when she could make her escape, to wander to the churchyard, where she sometimes wildly wept over his grave, and sometimes, standing on the corner of the churchyard wall, looked out, and mistook every stranger on horseback for the husband she had lost. If this woman, which was very possible, had dropt from the horse unobserved by him whom she had made her involuntary companion, it would have been very hard to have convinced the honest farmer that he had not actually performed part of his journey with a ghost behind him. There is also a large class of stories of this sort, where various secrets of chemistry, of acoustics, ventriloquism, or other arts, have been either employed to dupe the spectators, or have tended to do so through mere accident and coincidence. Of these it is scarce necessary to quote instances; but the following may be told as a tale recounted by a foreign nobleman known to me nearly thirty years ago, whose life, lost in the service of his sovereign, proved too short for his friends and his native land. At a certain old castle on the confines of Hungary, the lord to whom it belonged had determined upon giving an entertainment worthy of his own rank and of the magnificence of the antique mansion which he inhabited. The guests of course were numerous, and among them was a veteran officer of hussars, remarkable for his bravery. When the arrangements for the night were made this officer was informed that there would be difficulty in accommodating the company in the castle, large as was, unless some one would take the risk of sleeping in a room supposed to be haunted, and that, as he was known to be above such prejudices, the apartment was in the first place proposed for his occupation, as the person least likely to suffer a bad night's rest from such a cause. The major thankfully accepted the preference, and having shared the festivity of the evening, retired after midnight, having denounced vengeance against any one who should presume by any trick to disturb his repose; a threat which his habits would, it was supposed, render him sufficiently ready to execute. Somewhat contrary to the custom in these cases, the major went to bed, having left his candle burning and laid his trusty pistols, carefully loaded, on the table by his bedside. He had not slept an hour when he was awakened by a solemn strain of music. He looked out. Three ladies, fantastically dressed in green, were seen in the lower end of the apartment, who sung a solemn requiem. The major listened for some time with delight; at length he tired. "Ladies," he said, "this is very well, but somewhat monotonous--will you be so kind as to change the tune?" The ladies continued singing; he expostulated, but the music was not interrupted. The major began to grow angry: "Ladies," he said, "I must consider this as a trick for the purpose of terrifying me, and as I regard it as an impertinence, I shall take a rough mode of stopping it." With that he began to handle his pistols. The ladies sung on. He then get seriously angry: "I will but wait five minutes," he said, "and then fire without hesitation." The song was uninterrupted--the five minutes were expired. "I still give you law, ladies," he said, "while I count twenty." This produced as little effect as his former threats. He counted one, two, three accordingly; but on approaching the end of the number, and repeating more than once his determination to fire, the last numbers, seventeen--eighteen--nineteen, were pronounced with considerable pauses between, and an assurance that the pistols were cocked. The ladies sung on. As he pronounced the word twenty he fired both pistols against the musical damsels--but the ladies sung on! The major was overcome by the unexpected inefficacy of his violence, and had an illness which lasted more than three weeks. The trick put upon him may be shortly described by the fact that the female choristers were placed in an adjoining room, and that he only fired at their reflection thrown forward into that in which he slept by the effect of a concave mirror. Other stories of the same kind are numerous and well known. The apparition of the Brocken mountain, after having occasioned great admiration and some fear, is now ascertained by philosophers to be a gigantic reflection, which makes the traveller's shadow, represented upon the misty clouds, appear a colossal figure of almost immeasurable size. By a similar deception men have been induced, in Westmoreland and other mountainous countries, to imagine they saw troops of horse and armies marching and countermarching, which were in fact only the reflection of horses pasturing upon an opposite height, or of the forms of peaceful travellers. A very curious case of this kind was communicated to me by the son of the lady principally concerned, and tends to show out of what mean materials a venerable apparition may be sometimes formed. In youth this lady resided with her father, a man of sense and resolution. Their house was situated in the principal street of a town of some size. The back part of the house ran at right angles to an Anabaptist chapel, divided from it by a small cabbage-garden. The young lady used sometimes to indulge the romantic love of solitude by sitting in her own apartment in the evening till twilight, and even darkness, was approaching. One evening, while she was thus placed, she was surprised to see a gleamy figure, as of some aerial being, hovering, as it were, against the arched window in the end of the Anabaptist chapel. Its head was surrounded by that halo which painters give to the Catholic saints; and while the young lady's attention was fixed on an object so extraordinary, the figure bent gracefully towards her more than once, as if intimating a sense of her presence, and then disappeared. The seer of this striking vision descended to her family, so much discomposed as to call her father's attention. He obtained an account of the cause of her disturbance, and expressed his intention to watch in the apartment next night. He sat accordingly in his daughter's chamber, where she also attended him. Twilight came, and nothing appeared; but as the gray light faded into darkness, the same female figure was seen hovering on the window; the same shadowy form, the same pale light-around the head, the same inclinations, as the evening before. "What do you think of this?" said the daughter to the astonished father. "Anything, my dear," said the father, "rather than allow that we look upon what is supernatural." A strict research established a natural cause for the appearance on the window. It was the custom of an old woman, to whom the garden beneath was rented, to go out at night to gather cabbages. The lantern she carried in her hand threw up the refracted reflection of her form on the chapel window. As she stooped to gather her cabbages the reflection appeared to bend forward; and that was the whole matter. Another species of deception, affecting the credit of such supernatural communications, arises from the dexterity and skill of the authors who have made it their business to present such stories in the shape most likely to attract belief. Defoe--whose power in rendering credible that which was in itself very much the reverse was so peculiarly distinguished--has not failed to show his superiority in this species of composition. A bookseller of his acquaintance had, in the trade phrase, rather overprinted an edition of "Drelincourt on Death," and complained to Defoe of the loss which was likely to ensue. The experienced bookmaker, with the purpose of recommending the edition, advised his friend to prefix the celebrated narrative of Mrs. Veal's ghost, which he wrote for the occasion, with such an air of truth, that although in fact it does not afford a single tittle of evidence properly so called, it nevertheless was swallowed so eagerly by the people that Drelincourt's work on death, which the supposed spirit recommended to the perusal of her friend Mrs. Bargrave, instead of sleeping on the editor's shelf, moved off by thousands at once; the story, incredible in itself, and unsupported as it was by evidence or enquiry, was received as true, merely from the cunning of the narrator, and the addition of a number of adventitious circumstances, which no man alive could have conceived as having occurred to the mind of a person composing a fiction. It did not require the talents of Defoe, though in that species of composition he must stand unrivalled, to fix the public attention on a ghost story. John Dunton, a man of scribbling celebrity at the time, succeeded to a great degree in imposing upon the public a tale which he calls the Apparition Evidence. The beginning of it, at least (for it is of great length), has something in it a little new. At Mynehead, in Somersetshire, lived an ancient gentlewoman named Mrs. Leckie, whose only son and daughter resided in family with her. The son traded to Ireland, and was supposed to be worth eight or ten thousand pounds. They had a child about five or six years old. This family was generally respected in Mynehead; and especially Mrs. Leckie, the old lady, was so pleasant in society, that her friends used to say to her, and to each other, that it was a thousand pities such an excellent, good-humoured gentlewoman must, from her age, be soon lost to her friends. To which Mrs. Leckie often made the somewhat startling reply: "Forasmuch as you now seem to like me, I am afraid you will but little care to see or speak with me after my death, though I believe you may have that satisfaction." Die, however, she did, and after her funeral was repeatedly seen in her personal likeness, at home and abroad, by night and by noonday. One story is told of a doctor of physic walking into the fields, who in his return met with this spectre, whom he at first accosted civilly, and paid her the courtesy of handing her over a stile. Observing, however, that she did not move her lips in speaking, or her eyes in looking round, he became suspicious of the condition of his companion, and showed some desire to be rid of her society. Offended at this, the hag at next stile planted herself upon it, and obstructed his passage. He got through at length with some difficulty, and not without a sound kick, and an admonition to pay more attention to the next aged gentlewoman whom he met. "But this," says John Dunton, "was a petty and inconsiderable prank to what she played in her son's house and elsewhere. She would at noonday appear upon the quay of Mynehead, and cry, 'A boat, a boat, ho! a boat, a boat, ho!' If any boatmen or seamen were in sight, and did not come, they were sure to be cast away; and if they did come, 'twas all one, they were cast away. It was equally dangerous to please and displease her. Her son had several ships sailing between Ireland and England; no sooner did they make land, and come in sight of England, but this ghost would appear in the same garb and likeness as when she was alive, and, standing at the mainmast, would blow with a whistle, and though it were never so great a calm, yet immediately there would arise a most dreadful storm, that would break, wreck, and drown the ship and goods; only the seamen would escape with their lives--the devil had no permission from God to take them away. Yet at this rate, by her frequent apparitions and disturbances, she had made a poor merchant of her son, for his fair estate was all buried in the sea, and he that was once worth thousands was reduced to a very poor and low condition in the world; for whether the ship were his own or hired, or he had but goods on board it to the value of twenty shillings, this troublesome ghost would come as before, whistle in a calm at the mainmast at noonday, when they had descried land, and then ship and goods went all out of hand to wreck; insomuch that he could at last get no ships wherein to stow his goods, nor any mariner to sail in them; for knowing what an uncomfortable, fatal, and losing voyage they should make of it, they did all decline his service. In her son's house she hath her constant haunts by day and night; but whether he did not, or would not own if he did, see her, he always professed he never saw her. Sometimes when in bed with his wife, she would cry out, 'Husband, look, there's your mother!' And when he would turn to the right side, then was she gone to the left; and when to the left side of the bed, then was she gone to the right; only one evening their only child, a girl of about five or six years old, lying in a ruckle-bed under them, cries out, 'Oh, help me, father! help me, mother! for grandmother will choke me!' and before they could get to their child's assistance she had murdered it; they finding the poor girl dead, her throat having been pinched by two fingers, which stopped her breath and strangled her. This was the sorest of all their afflictions; their estate is gone, and now their child is gone also; you may guess at their grief and great sorrow. One morning after the child's funeral, her husband being abroad, about eleven in the forenoon, Mrs. Leckie the younger goes up into her chamber to dress her head, and as she was looking into the glass she spies her mother-in-law, the old beldam, looking over her shoulder. This cast her into a great horror; but recollecting her affrighted spirits, and recovering the exercise of her reason, faith, and hope, having cast up a short and silent prayer to God, she turns about, and bespeaks her: 'In the name of God, mother, why do you trouble me?' 'Peace,' says the spectrum; 'I will do thee no hurt.' 'What will you have of me?' says the daughter," &c.[86] Dunton, the narrator and probably the contriver of the story, proceeds to inform us at length of a commission which the wife of Mr. Leckie receives from the ghost to deliver to Atherton, Bishop of Waterford, a guilty and unfortunate man, who afterwards died by the hands of the executioner; but that part of the subject is too disagreeable and tedious to enter upon. [Footnote 86: "Apparition Evidence."] So deep was the impression made by the story on the inhabitants of Mynehead, that it is said the tradition of Mrs. Leckie still remains in that port, and that mariners belonging to it often, amid tempestuous weather, conceive they hear the whistle-call of the implacable hag who was the source of so much mischief to her own family. However, already too desultory and too long, it would become intolerably tedious were I to insist farther on the peculiar sort of genius by which stories of this kind may be embodied and prolonged. I may, however, add, that the charm of the tale depends much upon the age of the person to whom it is addressed; and that the vivacity of fancy which engages us in youth to pass over much that is absurd, in order to enjoy some single trait of imagination, dies within us when we obtain the age of manhood, and the sadder and graver regions which lie beyond it. I am the more conscious of this, because I have been myself at two periods of my life, distant from each other, engaged in scenes favourable to that degree of superstitious awe which my countrymen expressively call being _eerie_. On the first of these occasions I was only ninteeen or twenty years old, when I happened to pass a night in the magnificent old baronial castle of Glammis, the hereditary seat of the Earls of Strathmore. The hoary pile contains much in its appearance, and in the traditions connected with it, impressive to the imagination. It was the scene of the murder of a Scottish king of great antiquity; not indeed the gracious Duncan, with whom the name naturally associates itself, but Malcolm the Second. It contains also a curious monument of the peril of feudal times, being a secret chamber, the entrance of which, by the law or custom of the family, must only be known to three persons at once, viz., the Earl of Strathmore, his heir apparent, and any third person whom they may take into their confidence. The extreme antiquity of the building is vouched by the immense thickness of the walls, and the wild and straggling arrangement of the accommodation within doors. As the late Earl of Strathmore seldom resided in that ancient mansion, it was, when I was there, but half-furnished, and that with movables of great antiquity, which, with the pieces of chivalric armour hanging upon the walls, greatly contributed to the general effect of the whole. After a very hospitable reception from the late Peter Proctor, Esq., then seneschal of the castle, in Lord Strathmore's absence, I was conducted to my apartment in a distant corner of the building. I must own, that as I heard door after door shut, after my conductor had retired, I began to consider myself too far from the living and somewhat too near the dead. We had passed through what is called "The King's Room," a vaulted apartment, garnished with stags' antlers and similar trophies of the chase, and said by tradition to be the spot of Malcolm's murder, and I had an idea of the vicinity of the castle chapel. In spite of the truth of history, the whole night-scene in Macbeth's castle rushed at once upon my mind, and struck my imagination more forcibly than even when I have seen its terrors represented by the late John Kemble and his inimitable sister. In a word, I experienced sensations which, though not remarkable either for timidity or superstition, did not fail to affect me to the point of being disagreeable, while they were mingled at the same time with a strange and indescribable kind of pleasure, the recollection of which affords me gratification at this moment. In the year 1814 accident placed me, then past middle life, in a situation somewhat similar to that which I have described. I had been on a pleasure voyage with some friends around the north coast of Scotland, and in that course had arrived in the salt-water lake under the castle of Dunvegan, whose turrets, situated upon a frowning rock, rise immediately above the waves of the loch. As most of the party, and I myself in particular, chanced to be well known to the Laird of Macleod, we were welcomed to the castle with Highland hospitality, and glad to find ourselves in polished society, after a cruise of some duration. The most modern part of the castle was founded in the days of James VI.; the more ancient is referred to a period "whose birth tradition notes not." Until the present Macleod connected by a drawbridge the site of the castle with the mainland of Skye, the access must have been extremely difficult. Indeed, so much greater was the regard paid to security than to convenience, that in former times the only access to the mansion arose through a vaulted cavern in a rock, up which a staircase ascended from the sea-shore, like the buildings we read of in the romances of Mrs. Radcliffe. Such a castle, in the extremity of the Highlands, was of course furnished with many a tale of tradition, and many a superstitious legend, to fill occasional intervals in the music and song, as proper to the halls of Dunvegan as when Johnson commemorated them. We reviewed the arms and ancient valuables of this distinguished family--saw the dirk and broadsword of Rorie Mhor, and his horn, which would drench three chiefs of these degenerate days. The solemn drinking-cup of the Kings of Man must not be forgotten, nor the fairy banner given to Macleod by the Queen of Fairies; that magic flag which has been victorious in two pitched fields, and will still float in the third, the bloodiest and the last, when the Elfin Sovereign shall, after the fight is ended, recall her banner, and carry off the standard-bearer. Amid such tales of ancient tradition I had from Macleod and his lady the courteous offer of the haunted apartment of the castle, about which, as a stranger, I might be supposed interested. Accordingly, I took possession of it about the witching hour. Except perhaps some tapestry hangings, and the extreme thickness of the walls, which argued great antiquity, nothing could have been more comfortable than the interior of the apartment; but if you looked from the windows the view was such as to correspond with the highest tone of superstition. An autumnal blast, sometimes driving mist before it, swept along the troubled billows of the lake, which it occasionally concealed, and by fits disclosed. The waves rushed in wild disorder on the shore, and covered with foam the steep piles of rock, which, rising from the sea in forms something resembling the human figure, have obtained the name of Macleod's Maidens, and in such a night seemed no bad representatives of the Norwegian goddesses called Choosers of the Slain, or Riders of the Storm. There was something of the dignity of danger in the scene; for on a platform beneath the windows lay an ancient battery of cannon, which had sometimes been used against privateers even of late years. The distant scene was a view of that part of the Quillan mountains which are called, from their form, Macleod's Dining-Tables. The voice of an angry cascade, termed the Nurse of Rorie Mhor, because that chief slept best 'in its vicinity, was heard from time to time mingling its notes with those of wind and wave. Such was the haunted room at Dunvegan, and as such it well deserved a less sleepy inhabitant. In the language of Dr. Johnson, who has stamped his memory on this remote place, "I looked around me, and wondered that I was not more affected; but the mind is not at all times equally ready to be moved." In a word, it is necessary to confess that, of all I heard or saw, the most engaging spectacle was the comfortable bed, in which I hoped to make amends for some rough nights on ship-board, and where I slept accordingly without thinking of ghost or goblin till I was called by my servant in the morning. From this I am taught to infer that tales of ghosts and demonology are out of date at forty years and upwards; that it is only in the morning of life that this feeling of superstition "comes o'er us like a summer cloud," affecting us with fear which is solemn and awful rather than painful; and I am tempted to think that, if I were to write on the subject at all, it should have been during a period of life when I could have treated it with more interesting vivacity, and might have been at least amusing if I could not be instructive. Even the present fashion of the world seems to be ill suited for studies of this fantastic nature; and the most ordinary mechanic has learning sufficient to laugh at the figments which in former times were believed by persons far advanced in the deepest knowledge of the age. I cannot, however, in conscience carry my opinion of my countrymen's good sense so far as to exculpate them entirely from the charge of credulity. Those who are disposed to look for them may, without much trouble, see such manifest signs, both of superstition and the disposition to believe in its doctrines, as may render it no useless occupation to compare the follies of our fathers with our own. The sailors have a proverb that every man in his lifetime must eat a peck of impurity; and it seems yet more clear that every generation of the human race must swallow a certain measure of nonsense. There remains hope, however, that the grosser faults of our ancestors are now out of date; and that whatever follies the present race may be guilty of, the sense of humanity is too universally spread to permit them to think of tormenting wretches till they confess what is impossible, and then burning them for their pains. THE END. PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. LONDON AND EDINBURGH. 
31511	----	PRIZE ESSAYS OF THE AMERICAN HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION 1909 To this Essay was awarded the Herbert Baxter Adams Prize in European History for 1909 A HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT IN ENGLAND FROM 1558 TO 1718 BY WALLACE NOTESTEIN ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF HISTORY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION WASHINGTON, 1911 COPYRIGHT, 1911 BY THE AMERICAN HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION WASHINGTON, D.C. THE LORD BALTIMORE PRESS BALTIMORE, M.D., U.S.A. PREFACE. In its original form this essay was the dissertation submitted for a doctorate in philosophy conferred by Yale University in 1908. When first projected it was the writer's purpose to take up the subject of English witchcraft under certain general political and social aspects. It was not long, however, before he began to feel that preliminary to such a treatment there was necessary a chronological survey of the witch trials. Those strange and tragic affairs were so closely involved with the politics, literature, and life of the seventeenth century that one is surprised to find how few of them have received accurate or complete record in history. It may be said, in fact, that few subjects have gathered about themselves so large concretions of misinformation as English witchcraft. This is largely, of course, because so little attention has been given to it by serious students of history. The mistakes and misunderstandings of contemporary writers and of the local historians have been handed down from county history to county history until many of them have crept into general works. For this reason it was determined to attempt a chronological treatment which would give a narrative history of the more significant trials along with some account of the progress of opinion. This plan has been adhered to somewhat strictly, sometimes not without regret upon the part of the writer. It is his hope later in a series of articles to deal with some of the more general phases of the subject, with such topics as the use of torture, the part of the physicians, the contagious nature of the witch alarms, the relation of Puritanism to persecution, the supposed influence of the Royal Society, the general causes for the gradual decline of the belief, and other like questions. It will be seen in the course of the narrative that some of these matters have been touched upon. This study of witchcraft has been limited to a period of about one hundred and sixty years in English history. The year 1558 has been chosen as the starting point because almost immediately after the accession of Elizabeth there began the movement for a new law, a movement which resulted in the statute of 1563. With that statute the history of the persecution of witches gathers importance. The year 1718 has been selected as a concluding date because that year was marked by the publication of Francis Hutchinson's notable attack upon the belief. Hutchinson levelled a final and deadly blow at the dying superstition. Few men of intelligence dared after that avow any belief in the reality of witchcraft; it is probable that very few even secretly cherished such a belief. A complete history would of course include a full account both of the witch trials from Anglo-Saxon times to Elizabeth's accession and of the various witch-swimming incidents of the eighteenth century. The latter it has not seemed worth while here to consider. The former would involve an examination of all English sources from the earliest times and would mean a study of isolated and unrelated trials occurring at long intervals (at least, we have record only of such) and chiefly in church courts. The writer has not undertaken to treat this earlier period; he must confess to but small knowledge of it. In the few pages which he has given to it he has attempted nothing more than to sketch from the most obvious sources an outline of what is currently known as to English witches and witchcraft prior to the days of Elizabeth. It is to be hoped that some student of medieval society will at some time make a thorough investigation of the history of witchcraft in England to the accession of the great Queen. For the study of the period to be covered in this monograph there exists a wealth of material. It would perhaps not be too much to say that everything in print and manuscript in England during the last half of the sixteenth and the entire seventeenth century should be read or at least glanced over. The writer has limited himself to certain kinds of material from which he could reasonably expect to glean information. These sources fall into seven principal categories. Most important of all are the pamphlets, or chapbooks, dealing with the history of particular alarms and trials and usually concluding with the details of confession and execution. Second only to them in importance are the local or municipal records, usually court files, but sometimes merely expense accounts. In the memoirs and diaries can be found many mentions of trials witnessed by the diarist or described to him. The newspapers of the time, in their eagerness to exploit the unusual, seize gloatingly upon the stories of witchcraft. The works of local historians and antiquarians record in their lists of striking and extraordinary events within their counties or boroughs the several trials and hangings for the crime. The writers, mainly theologians, who discuss the theory and doctrine of witchcraft illustrate the principles they lay down by cases that have fallen under their observation. Lastly, the state papers contain occasional references to the activities of the Devil and of his agents in the realm. Besides these seven types of material there should be named a few others less important. From the pamphlet accounts of the criminal dockets at the Old Bailey and Newgate, leaflets which were published at frequent intervals after the Restoration, are to be gleaned mentions of perhaps half a dozen trials for witchcraft. The plays of Dekker, Heywood, and Shadwell must be used by the student, not because they add information omitted elsewhere, but because they offer some clue to the way in which the witches at Edmonton and Lancaster were regarded by the public. If the pamphlet narrative of the witch of Edmonton had been lost, it might be possible to reconstruct from the play of Dekker, Ford, and Rowley some of the outlines of the story. It would be at best a hazardous undertaking. To reconstruct the trials at Lancaster from the plays of Heywood and Brome or from that of Shadwell would be quite impossible. The ballads present a form of evidence much like that of the plays. Like the plays, they happen all to deal with cases about which we are already well informed. In general, they seem to follow the narratives and depositions faithfully. No mention has been made of manuscript sources. Those used by the author have all belonged to one or other of the types of material described. It has been remarked that there is current a large body of misinformation about English witchcraft. It would be ungrateful of the author not to acknowledge that some very good work has been done on the theme. The Reverend Francis Hutchinson, as already mentioned, wrote in 1718 an epoch-making history of the subject, a book which is still useful and can never be wholly displaced. In 1851 Thomas Wright brought out his _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_, a work at once entertaining and learned. Wright wrote largely from original sources and wrote with a good deal of care. Such blunders as he made were the result of haste and of the want of those materials which we now possess. Mrs. Lynn Linton's _Witch Stories_, published first in 1861, is a better book than might be supposed from a casual glance at it. It was written with no more serious purpose than to entertain, but it is by no means to be despised. So far as it goes, it represents careful work. It would be wrong to pass over Lecky's brilliant essay on witchcraft in his _History of Rationalism_, valuable of course rather as an interpretation than as an historical account. Lecky said many things about witchcraft that needed to be said, and said them well. It is my belief that his verdicts as to the importance of sundry factors may have to be modified; but, however that be, the importance of his essay must always be recognized. One must not omit in passing James Russell Lowell's charming essay on the subject. Both Lecky and Lowell of course touched English witchcraft but lightly. Since Mrs. Lynn Linton's no careful treatment of English witchcraft proper has appeared. In 1907, however, Professor Kittredge published his _Notes on Witchcraft_, the sixty-seven pages of which with their footnotes contain a more scrupulous sifting of the evidence as to witchcraft in England than is to be found in any other treatment. Professor Kittredge is chiefly interested in English witchcraft as it relates itself to witchcraft in New England, but his work contains much that is fresh about the belief in England. As to the rôle and the importance of various actors in the drama and as to sundry minor matters, the writer has found himself forced to divergence of view. He recognizes nevertheless the importance of Professor Kittredge's contribution to the study of the whole subject and acknowledges his own indebtedness to the essay for suggestion and guidance. The author cannot hope that the work here presented is final. Unfortunately there is still hidden away in England an unexplored mass of local records. Some of them no doubt contain accounts of witch trials. I have used chiefly such printed and manuscript materials as were accessible in London and Oxford. Some day perhaps I may find time to go the rounds of the English counties and search the masses of gaol delivery records and municipal archives. From the really small amount of new material on the subject brought to light by the Historical Manuscripts Commission and by the publication of many municipal records, it seems improbable that such a search would uncover so many unlisted trials as seriously to modify the narrative. Nevertheless until such a search is made no history of the subject has the right to be counted final. Mr. Charles W. Wallace, the student of Shakespeare, tells me that in turning over the multitudinous records of the Star Chamber he found a few witch cases. Professor Kittredge believes that there is still a great deal of such material to be turned up in private collections and local archives. Any information on this matter which any student of English local history can give me will be gratefully received. I wish to express my thanks for reading parts of the manuscript to William Savage Johnson of Kansas University and to Miss Ada Comstock of the University of Minnesota. For general assistance and advice on the subject I am under obligations to Professor Wilbur C. Abbott and to Professor George Burton Adams of Yale University. It is quite impossible to say how very much I owe to Professor George L. Burr of Cornell. From cover to cover the book, since the award to it of the Adams Prize, has profited from his painstaking criticism and wise suggestion. W. N. Minneapolis, _October 10, 1911_. CONTENTS. PAGE Preface v CHAPTER I. The Beginnings of English Witchcraft 1 CHAPTER II. Witchcraft under Elizabeth 33 CHAPTER III. Reginald Scot 57 CHAPTER IV. The Exorcists 73 CHAPTER V. James I and Witchcraft 93 CHAPTER VI. Notable Jacobean Cases 120 CHAPTER VII. The Lancashire Witches and Charles I 146 CHAPTER VIII. Matthew Hopkins 164 CHAPTER IX. Witchcraft during the Commonwealth and Protectorate 206 CHAPTER X. The Literature of Witchcraft from 1603 to 1660 227 CHAPTER XI. Witchcraft under Charles II and James II 254 CHAPTER XII. Glanvill and Webster and the Literary War over Witchcraft, 1660-1688 284 CHAPTER XIII. The Final Decline 313 CHAPTER XIV. The Close of the Literary Controversy 334 Appendices 345 A. Pamphlet Literature 345 B. List of Persons Sentenced to Death for Witchcraft during the Reign of James I 383 C. List of Cases of Witchcraft, 1558-1717, with References to Sources and Literature 384 Index 421 CHAPTER I. THE BEGINNINGS OF ENGLISH WITCHCRAFT. It has been said by a thoughtful writer that the subject of witchcraft has hardly received that place which it deserves in the history of opinions. There has been, of course, a reason for this neglect--the fact that the belief in witchcraft is no longer existent among intelligent people and that its history, in consequence, seems to possess rather an antiquarian than a living interest. No one can tell the story of the witch trials of sixteenth and seventeenth century England without digging up a buried past, and the process of exhumation is not always pleasant. Yet the study of English witchcraft is more than an unsightly exposure of a forgotten superstition. There were few aspects of sixteenth and seventeenth century life that were not affected by the ugly belief. It is quite impossible to grasp the social conditions, it is impossible to understand the opinions, fears, and hopes of the men and women who lived in Elizabethan and Stuart England, without some knowledge of the part played in that age by witchcraft. It was a matter that concerned all classes from the royal household to the ignorant denizens of country villages. Privy councillors anxious about their sovereign and thrifty peasants worrying over their crops, clergymen alert to detect the Devil in their own parishes, medical quacks eager to profit by the fear of evil women, justices of the peace zealous to beat down the works of Satan--all classes, indeed--believed more or less sincerely in the dangerous powers of human creatures who had surrendered themselves to the Evil One. Witchcraft, in a general and vague sense, was something very old in English history. In a more specific and limited sense it is a comparatively modern phenomenon. This leads us to a definition of the term. It is a definition that can be given adequately only in an historical way. A group of closely related and somewhat ill defined conceptions went far back. Some of them, indeed, were to be found in the Old Testament, many of them in the Latin and Greek writers. The word witchcraft itself belonged to Anglo-Saxon days. As early as the seventh century Theodore of Tarsus imposed penances upon magicians and enchanters, and the laws, from Alfred on, abound with mentions of witchcraft.[1] From these passages the meaning of the word witch as used by the early English may be fairly deduced. The word was the current English term for one who used spells and charms, who was assisted by evil spirits to accomplish certain ends. It will be seen that this is by no means the whole meaning of the term in later times. Nothing is yet said about the transformation of witches into other shapes, and there is no mention of a compact, implicit or otherwise, with the Devil; there is no allusion to the nocturnal meetings of the Devil's worshippers and to the orgies that took place upon those occasions; there is no elaborate and systematic theological explanation of human relations with demons. But these notions were to reach England soon enough. Already there were germinating in southern Europe ideas out of which the completer notions were to spring. As early as the close of the ninth century certain Byzantine traditions were being introduced into the West. There were legends of men who had made written compacts with the Devil, men whom he promised to assist in this world in return for their souls in the next.[2] But, while such stories were current throughout the Middle Ages, the notion behind them does not seem to have been connected with the other features of what was to make up the idea of witchcraft until about the middle of the fourteenth century. It was about that time that the belief in the "Sabbat" or nocturnal assembly of the witches made its appearance.[3] The belief grew up that witches rode through the air to these meetings, that they renounced Christ and engaged in foul forms of homage to Satan. Lea tells us that towards the close of the century the University of Paris formulated the theory that a pact with Satan was inherent in all magic, and judges began to connect this pact with the old belief in night riders through the air. The countless confessions that resulted from the carefully framed questions of the judges served to develop and systematize the theory of the subject. The witch was much more than a sorcerer. Sorcerers had been those who, through the aid of evil spirits, by the use of certain words or of representations of persons or things produced changes above the ordinary course of nature. "The witch," says Lea, "has abandoned Christianity, has renounced her baptism, has worshipped Satan as her God, has surrendered herself to him, body and soul, and exists only to be his instrument in working the evil to her fellow creatures which he cannot accomplish without a human agent."[4] This was the final and definite notion of a witch. It was the conception that controlled European opinion on the subject from the latter part of the fourteenth to the close of the seventeenth century. It was, as has been seen, an elaborate theological notion that had grown out of the comparatively simple and vague ideas to be found in the scriptural and classical writers. It may well be doubted whether this definite and intricate theological notion of witchcraft reached England so early as the fourteenth century. Certainly not until a good deal later--if negative evidence is at all trustworthy--was a clear distinction made between sorcery and witchcraft. The witches searched for by Henry IV, the professor of divinity, the friar, the clerk, and the witch of Eye, who were hurried before the Council of Henry VI, that unfortunate Duchess of Gloucester who had to walk the streets of London, the Duchess of Bedford, the conspirators against Edward IV who were supposed to use magic, the unlucky mistress of Edward IV--none of these who through the course of two centuries were charged with magical misdeeds were, so far as we know, accused of those dreadful relations with the Devil, the nauseating details of which fill out the later narratives of witch history. The truth seems to be that the idea of witchcraft was not very clearly defined and differentiated in the minds of ordinary Englishmen until after the beginning of legislation upon the subject. It is not impossible that there were English theologians who could have set forth the complete philosophy of the belief, but to the average mind sorcery, conjuration, enchantment, and witchcraft were but evil ways of mastering nature. All that was changed when laws were passed. With legislation came greatly increased numbers of accusations; with accusations and executions came treatises and theory. Continental writers were consulted, and the whole system and science of the subject were soon elaborated for all who read. With the earlier period, which has been sketched merely by way of definition, this monograph cannot attempt to deal. It limits itself to a narrative of the witch trials, and incidentally of opinion as to witchcraft, after there was definite legislation by Parliament. The statute of the fifth year of Elizabeth's reign marks a point in the history of the judicial persecution at which an account may very naturally begin. The year 1558 has been selected as the date because from the very opening of the reign which was to be signalized by the passing of that statute and was to be characterized by a serious effort to enforce it, the persecution was preparing. Up to that time the crime of sorcery had been dealt with in a few early instances by the common-law courts, occasionally (where politics were involved) by the privy council, but more usually, it is probable, by the church. This, indeed, may easily be illustrated from the works of law. Britton and Fleta include an inquiry about sorcerers as one of the articles of the sheriff's tourn. A note upon Britton, however, declares that it is for the ecclesiastical court to try such offenders and to deliver them to be put to death in the king's court, but that the king himself may proceed against them if he pleases.[5] While there is some overlapping of procedure implied by this, the confusion seems to have been yet greater in actual practice. A brief narrative of some cases prior to 1558 will illustrate the strangely unsettled state of procedure. Pollock and Maitland relate several trials to be found in the early pleas. In 1209 one woman accused another of sorcery in the king's court and the defendant cleared herself by the ordeal. In 1279 a man accused of killing a witch who assaulted him in his house was fined, but only because he had fled away. Walter Langton, Bishop of Lichfield and treasurer of Edward I, was accused of sorcery and homage to Satan and cleared himself with the compurgators. In 1325 more than twenty men were indicted and tried by the king's bench for murder by tormenting a waxen image. All of them were acquitted. In 1371 there was brought before the king's bench an inhabitant of Southwark who was charged with sorcery, but he was finally discharged on swearing that he would never be a sorcerer.[6] It will be observed that these early cases were all of them tried in the secular courts; but there is no reason to doubt that the ecclesiastical courts were quite as active, and their zeal must have been quickened by the statute of 1401, which in cases of heresy made the lay power their executioner. It was at nearly the same time, however, that the charge of sorcery began to be frequently used as a political weapon. In such cases, of course, the accused was usually a person of influence and the matter was tried in the council. It will be seen, then, that the crime was one that might fall either under ecclesiastical or conciliar jurisdiction and the particular circumstances usually determined finally the jurisdiction. When Henry IV was informed that the diocese of Lincoln was full of sorcerers, magicians, enchanters, necromancers, diviners, and soothsayers, he sent a letter to the bishop requiring him to search for sorcerers and to commit them to prison after conviction, or even before, if it should seem expedient.[7] This was entrusting the matter to the church, but the order was given by authority of the king, not improbably after the matter had been discussed in the council. In the reign of Henry VI conciliar and ecclesiastical authorities both took part at different times and in different ways. Thomas Northfield, a member of the Order of Preachers in Worcester and a professor of divinity, was brought before the council, together with all suspected matter belonging to him, and especially his books treating of sorcery. Pike does not tell us the outcome.[8] In the same year there were summoned before the council three humbler sorcerers, Margery Jourdemain, John Virley, a cleric, and John Ashwell, a friar of the Order of the Holy Cross. It would be hard to say whether the three were in any way connected with political intrigue. It is possible that they were suspected of sorcery against the sovereign. They were all, however, dismissed on giving security.[9] It was only a few years after this instance of conciliar jurisdiction that a much more important case was turned over to the clergy. The story of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, is a familiar one. It was determined by the enemies of Duke Humphrey of Gloucester to attack him through his wife, who was believed to be influential with the young king. The first move was made by arresting a Roger Bolingbroke who had been connected with the duke and the duchess, and who was said to be an astronomer or necromancer. It was declared that he had cast the duchess's horoscope with a view to ascertaining her chances to the throne. Bolingbroke made confession, and Eleanor was then brought before "certayne bisshoppis of the kyngis." In the mean time several lords, members of the privy council, were authorized to "enquire of al maner tresons, sorcery, and alle othir thyngis that myghte in eny wise ... concerne harmfulli the kyngis persone."[10] Bolingbroke and a clergyman, Thomas Southwell, were indicted of treason with the duchess as accessory. With them was accused that Margery Jourdemain who had been released ten years before. Eleanor was then reexamined before the Bishops of London, Lincoln, and Norwich, she was condemned as guilty, and required to walk barefoot through the streets of London, which she "dede righte mekely." The rest of her life she spent in a northern prison. Bolingbroke was executed as a traitor, and Margery Jourdemain was burnt at Smithfield.[11] The case of the Duchess of Bedford--another instance of the connection between sorcery and political intrigue--fell naturally into the hands of the council. It was believed by those who could understand in no other way the king's infatuation that he had been bewitched by the mother of the queen. The story was whispered from ear to ear until the duchess got wind of it and complained to the council against her maligners. The council declared her cleared of suspicion and ordered that the decision should be "enacted of record."[12] The charge of sorcery brought by the protector Richard of Gloucester against Jane Shore, who had been the mistress of Edward IV, never came to trial and in consequence illustrates neither ecclesiastical nor conciliar jurisdiction. It is worthy of note however that the accusation was preferred by the protector--who was soon to be Richard III--in the council chamber.[13] It will be seen that these cases prove very little as to procedure in the matter of sorcery and witchcraft. They are cases that arose in a disturbed period and that concerned chiefly people of note. That they were tried before the bishops or before the privy council does not mean that all such charges were brought into those courts. There must have been less important cases that were never brought before the council or the great ecclesiastical courts. It seems probable--to reason backward from later practice--that less important trials were conducted almost exclusively by the minor church courts.[14] This would at first lead us to suspect that, when the state finally began to legislate against witchcraft by statute, it was endeavoring to wrest jurisdiction of the crime out of the hands of the church and to put it into secular hands. Such a supposition, however, there is nothing to justify. It seems probable, on the contrary, that the statute enacted in the reign of Henry VIII was passed rather to support the church in its struggle against sorcery and witchcraft than to limit its jurisdiction in the matter. It was to assist in checking these practitioners that the state stepped in. At another point in this chapter we shall have occasion to note the great interest in sorcery and all kindred subjects that was springing up over England, and we shall at times observe some of the manifestations of this interest as well as some of the causes for it. Here it is necessary only to urge the importance of this interest as accounting for the passage of a statute.[15] Chapter VIII of 33 Henry VIII states its purpose clearly: "Where," reads the preamble, "dyvers and sundrie persones unlawfully have devised and practised Invocacions and conjuracions of Sprites, pretendyng by suche meanes to understande and get Knowlege for their owne lucre in what place treasure of golde and Silver shulde or mought be founde or had ... and also have used and occupied wichecraftes, inchauntmentes and sorceries to the distruccion of their neighbours persones and goodes." A description was given of the methods practised, and it was enacted that the use of any invocation or conjuration of spirits, witchcrafts, enchantments, or sorceries should be considered felony.[16] It will be observed that the law made no graduation of offences. Everything was listed as felony. No later piece of legislation on the subject was so sweeping in its severity. The law remained on the statute-book only six years. In the early part of the reign of Edward VI, when the protector Somerset was in power, a policy of great leniency in respect to felonies was proposed. In December of 1547 a bill was introduced into Parliament to repeal certain statutes for treason and felony. "This bill being a matter of great concern to every subject, a committee was appointed, consisting of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the lord chancellor, the lord chamberlain, the Marquis of Dorset, the Earls of Shrewsbury and Southampton, the Bishops of Ely, Lincoln, and Worcester, the Lords Cobham, Clinton, and Wentworth, with certain of the king's learned council; all which noblemen were appointed to meet a committee of the Commons ... in order to treat and commune on the purport of the said bill."[17] The Commons, it seems, had already prepared a bill of their own, but this they were willing to drop and the Lords' measure with some amendments was finally passed. It was under this wide repeal of felonies that chapter VIII of 33 Henry VIII was finally annulled. Whether the question of witchcraft came up for special consideration or not, we are not informed. We do know that the Bishops of London, Durham, Ely, Hereford, and Chichester, took exception to some amendments that were inserted in the act of repeal,[18] and it is not impossible that they were opposed to repealing the act against witchcraft. Certainly there is no reason to suppose that the church was resisting the encroachment of the state in the subject. As a matter of fact it is probable that, in the general question of repeal of felonies, the question of witchcraft received scant attention. There is indeed an interesting story that seems to point in that direction and that deserves repeating also as an illustration of the protector's attitude towards the question. Edward Underhill gives the narrative in his autobiography: "When we hade dyned, the maior sentt to [two] off his offycers with me to seke Alene; whome we mett withalle in Poles, and toke hym with us unto his chamber, wheare we founde fygures sett to calke the nativetie off the kynge, and a jugementt gevyne off his deathe, wheroff this folyshe wreche thoughte hymselfe so sure thatt he and his conselars the papistes bruted it all over. The kynge laye att Hamtone courte the same tyme, and me lord protector at the Syone; unto whome I caryed this Alen, with his bokes off conejuracyons, cearkles, and many thynges beloungynge to thatt dyvlyshe art, wiche he affyrmed before me lorde was a lawfulle cyens [science], for the statute agaynst souche was repealed. 'Thow folyshe knave! (sayde me lorde) yff thou and all thatt be off thy cyens telle me what I shalle do to-morow, I wylle geve the alle thatt I have'; commaundynge me to cary hym unto the Tower." Alen was examined about his science and it was discovered that he was "a very unlearned asse, and a sorcerer, for the wiche he was worthye hangynge, sayde Mr. Recorde." He was however kept in the Tower "about the space off a yere, and then by frendshipe delyvered. So scapithe alwayes the weked."[19] But the wicked were not long to escape. The beginning of Elizabeth's reign saw a serious and successful effort to put on the statute-book definite and severe penalties for conjuration, sorcery, witchcraft, and related crimes. The question was taken up in the very first year of the new reign and a bill was draughted.[20] It was not, however, until 1563 that the statute was finally passed. It was then enacted that those who "shall use, practise, or exercise any Witchecrafte, Enchantment, Charme or Sorcerie, whereby any person shall happen to bee killed or destroyed, ... their Concellors and Aidours, ... shall suffer paynes of Deathe as a Felon or Felons." It was further declared that those by whose practices any person was wasted, consumed, or lamed, should suffer for the first offence one year's imprisonment and should be put in the pillory four times. For the second offence death was the penalty. It was further provided that those who by witchcraft presumed to discover treasure or to find stolen property or to "provoke any person to unlawfull love" should suffer a year's imprisonment and four appearances in the pillory. With this law the history of the prosecution of witchcraft in England as a secular crime may well begin. The question naturally arises, What was the occasion of this law? How did it happen that just at this particular time so drastic a measure was passed and put into operation? Fortunately part of the evidence exists upon which to frame an answer. The English churchmen who had been driven out of England during the Marian persecution had many of them sojourned in Zurich and Geneva, where the extirpation of witches was in full progress, and had talked over the matter with eminent Continental theologians. With the accession of Elizabeth these men returned to England in force and became prominent in church and state, many of them receiving bishoprics. It is not possible to show that they all were influential in putting through the statute of the fifth year of Elizabeth. It is clear that one of them spoke out plainly on the subject. It can hardly be doubted that he represented the opinions of many other ecclesiastics who had come under the same influences during their exile.[21] John Jewel was an Anglican of Calvinistic sympathies who on his return to England at Elizabeth's accession had been appointed Bishop of Salisbury. Within a short time he came to occupy a prominent position in the court. He preached before the Queen and accompanied her on a visit to Oxford. It was in the course of one of his first sermons--somewhere between November of 1559 and March of 1560[22]--that he laid before her his convictions on witchcraft. It is, he tells her, "the horrible using of your poor subjects," that forces him to speak. "This kind of people (I mean witches and sorcerers) within these few last years are marvellously increased within this your grace's realm. These eyes have seen most evident and manifest marks of their wickedness. Your grace's subjects pine away even unto death, their colour fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft. Wherefore, your poor subjects' most humble petition unto your highness is, that the laws touching such malefactors may be put in due execution." The church historian, Strype, conjectures that this sermon was the cause of the law passed in the fifth year of Elizabeth's reign, by which witchcraft was again made a felony, as it had been in the reign of Henry VIII.[23] Whatever weight we may attach to Strype's suggestion, we have every right to believe that Jewel introduced foreign opinion on witchcraft. Very probably there were many returned exiles as well as others who brought back word of the crusade on the Continent; but Jewel's words put the matter formally before the queen and her government.[24] We can trace the effect of the ecclesiastic's appeal still further. The impression produced by it was responsible probably not only for the passage of the law but also for the issue of commissions to the justices of the peace to apprehend all the witches they were able to find in their jurisdictions.[25] It can hardly be doubted that the impression produced by the bishop's sermon serves in part to explain the beginning of the state's attack upon witches. Yet one naturally inquires after some other factor in the problem. Is it not likely that there were in England itself certain peculiar conditions, certain special circumstances, that served to forward the attack? To answer that query, we must recall the situation in England when Elizabeth took the throne. Elizabeth was a Protestant, and her accession meant the relinquishment of the Catholic hold upon England. But it was not long before the claims of Mary, Queen of Scots, began to give the English ministers bad dreams. Catholic and Spanish plots against the life of Elizabeth kept the government detectives on the lookout. Perhaps because it was deemed the hardest to circumvent, the use of conjuration against the life of the queen was most feared. It was a method too that appealed to conspirators, who never questioned its efficacy, and who anticipated little risk of discovery. To understand why the English government should have been so alarmed at the efforts of the conjurers, we shall have to go back to the half-century that preceded the reign of the great queen and review briefly the rise of those curious traders in mystery. The earlier half of the fifteenth century, when the witch fires were already lighted in South Germany, saw the coming of conjurers in England. Their numbers soon evidenced a growing interest in the supernatural upon the part of the English and foreshadowed the growing faith in witchcraft. From the scattered local records the facts have been pieced together to show that here and there professors of magic powers were beginning to get a hearing. As they first appear upon the scene, the conjurers may be grouped in two classes, the position seekers and the treasure seekers. To the first belong those who used incantations and charms to win the favor of the powerful, and so to gain advancement for themselves or for their clients.[26] It was a time when there was every encouragement to try these means. Men like Wolsey and Thomas Cromwell had risen from humble rank to the highest places in the state. Their careers seemed inexplicable, if not uncanny. It was easy to believe that unfair and unlawful practices had been used. What had been done before could be done again. So the dealers in magic may have reasoned. At all events, whatever their mental operations, they experimented with charms which were to gain the favor of the great, and some of their operations came to the ears of the court. The treasure seekers[27] were more numerous. Every now and then in the course of English history treasures have been unearthed, many of them buried in Roman times. Stories of lucky finds had of course gained wide circulation. Here was the opportunity of the bankrupt adventurer and the stranded promoter. The treasures could be found by the science of magic. The notion was closely akin to the still current idea that wells can be located by the use of hazel wands. But none of the conjurers--and this seems a curious fact to one familiar with the English stories of the supernatural--ever lit upon the desired treasure. Their efforts hardly aroused public interest, least of all alarm. Experimenters, who fifty years later would have been hurried before the privy council, were allowed to conjure and dig as they pleased. Henry VIII even sold the right in one locality, and sold it at a price which showed how lightly he regarded it.[28] Other forms of magic were of course practiced. By the time that Elizabeth succeeded to the throne, it is safe to say that the practice of forbidden arts had become wide-spread in England. Reginald Scot a little later declared that every parish was full of men and women who claimed to work miracles.[29] Most of them were women, and their performances read like those of the gipsy fortune-tellers today. "Cunning women" they called themselves. They were many of them semi-medical or pseudo-medical practitioners[30] who used herbs and extracts, and, when those failed, charms and enchantments, to heal the sick. If they were fairly fortunate, they became known as "good witches." Particularly in connection with midwifery were their incantations deemed effective.[31] From such functions it was no far call to forecast the outcome of love affairs, or to prepare potions which would ensure love.[32] They became general helpers to the distressed. They could tell where lost property was to be found, an undertaking closely related to that of the treasure seekers.[33] It was usually in the less serious diseases[34] that these cunning folk were consulted. They were called upon often indeed--if one fragmentary evidence may be trusted--to diagnose the diseases and to account for the deaths of domestic animals.[35] It may very easily be that it was from the necessity of explaining the deaths of animals that the practitioners of magic began to talk about witchcraft and to throw out a hint that some witch was at the back of the matter. It would be in line with their own pretensions. Were they not good witches? Was it not their province to overcome the machinations of the black witches, that is, witches who wrought evil rather than good? The disease of an animal was hard to prescribe for. A sick horse would hardly respond to the waving of hands and a jumble of strange words. The animal was, in all probability, bewitched. At any rate, whether in this particular manner or not, it became shortly the duty of the cunning women to recognize the signs of witchcraft, to prescribe for it, and if possible to detect the witch. In many cases the practitioner wisely enough refused to name any one, but described the appearance of the guilty party and set forth a series of operations by which to expose her machinations. If certain herbs were plucked and treated in certain ways, if such and such words were said, the guilty party would appear at the door. At other times the wise woman gave a perfectly recognizable description of the guilty one and offered remedies that would nullify her maleficent influences. No doubt the party indicated as the witch was very often another of the "good witches," perhaps a rival. Throughout the records of the superstition are scattered examples of wise women upon whom suspicion suddenly lighted, and who were arraigned and sent to the gallows. Beyond question the suspicion began often with the ill words of a neighbor,[36] perhaps of a competitor, words that started an attack upon the woman's reputation that she was unable to repel. It is not to be supposed that the art of cunning was confined to the female sex. Throughout the reign of Elizabeth, the realm was alive with men who were pretenders to knowledge of mysteries. So closely was the occupation allied to that of the physician that no such strict line as now exists between reputable physicians and quack doctors separated the "good witches" from the regular practicers of medicine. It was so customary in Elizabethan times for thoroughly reputable and even eminent medical men to explain baffling cases as the results of witchcraft[37] that to draw the line of demarcation between them and the pretenders who suggested by means of a charm or a glass a maleficent agent would be impossible. Granted the phenomena of conjuration and witchcraft as facts--and no one had yet disputed them--it was altogether easy to believe that good witches who antagonized the works of black witches were more dependable than the family physician, who could but suggest the cause of sickness. The regular practitioner must often have created business for his brother of the cunning arts. One would like to know what these practicers thought of their own arts. Certainly some of them accomplished cures. Mental troubles that baffled the ordinary physician would offer the "good witch" a rare field for successful endeavor. Such would be able not only to persuade a community of their good offices, but to deceive themselves. Not all of them, however, by any means, were self-deceived. Conscious fraud played a part in a large percentage of cases. One witch was very naive in her confession of fraud. When suspected of sorcery and cited to court, she was said to have frankly recited her charm: "My lofe in my lappe, My penny in my purse, You are never the better, I am never the worse." She was acquitted and doubtless continued to add penny to penny.[38] We need not, indeed, be surprised that the state should have been remiss in punishing a crime so vague in character and so closely related to an honorable profession. Except where conjuration had affected high interests of state, it had been practically overlooked by the government. Now and then throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there had been isolated plots against the sovereign, in which conjury had played a conspicuous part. With these few exceptions the crime had been one left to ecclesiastical jurisdiction. But now the state was ready to reclaim its jurisdiction over these crimes and to assume a very positive attitude of hostility towards them. This came about in a way that has already been briefly indicated. The government of the queen found itself threatened constantly by plots for making away with the queen, plots which their instigators hoped would overturn the Protestant regime and bring England back into the fold. Elizabeth had hardly mounted her throne when her councillors began to suspect the use of sorcery and conjuration against her life. As a result they instituted the most painstaking inquiries into all reported cases of the sort, especially in and about London and the neighboring counties. Every Catholic was suspected. Two cases that were taken up within the first year came to nothing, but a third trial proved more serious. In November of 1558 Sir Anthony Fortescue,[39] member of a well known Catholic family, was arrested, together with several accomplices, upon the charge of casting the horoscope of the queen's life. Fortescue was soon released, but in 1561 he was again put in custody, this time with two brothers-in-law, Edmund and Arthur Pole, nephews of the famous cardinal of that name. The plot that came to light had many ramifications. It was proposed to marry Mary, Queen of Scots, to Edmund Pole, and from Flanders to proclaim her Queen of England. In the meantime Elizabeth was to die a natural death--at least so the conspirators claimed--prophesied for her by two conjurers, John Prestall and Edmund Cosyn, with the assistance of a "wicked spryte." It was discovered that the plot involved the French and Spanish ambassadors. Relations between Paris and London became strained. The conspirators were tried and sentenced to death. Fortescue himself, perhaps because he was a second cousin of the queen and brother of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, seems to have escaped the gallows.[40] The Fortescue affair was, however, but one of many conspiracies on foot during the time. Throughout the sixties and the seventies the queen's councillors were on the lookout. Justices of the peace and other prominent men in the counties were kept informed by the privy council of reported conjurers, and they were instructed to send in what evidence they could gather against them. It is remarkable that three-fourths of the cases that came under investigation were from a territory within thirty miles of London. Two-thirds of them were from Essex. Not all the conjurers were charged with plotting against the queen, but that charge was most common. It is safe to suppose that, in the cases where that accusation was not preferred, it was nevertheless the alarm of the privy council for the life of the queen that had prompted the investigation and arrest. Between 1578 and 1582, critical years in the affairs of the Scottish queen, the anxiety of the London authorities was intense[41]--their precautions were redoubled. Representatives of the government were sent out to search for conjurers and were paid well for their services.[42] The Earl of Shrewsbury, a member of the council who had charge of the now captive Queen Mary, kept in his employ special detectors of conjuring.[43] Nothing about Elizabeth's government was better organized than Cecil's detective service, and the state papers show that the ferreting out of the conjurers was by no means the least of its work. It was a service carried on, of course, as quietly as could be, and yet the cases now and again came to light and made clear to the public that the government was very fearful of conjurers' attacks upon the queen. No doubt the activity of the council put all conjurers under public suspicion and in some degree roused public resentment against them. This brings us back to the point: What had the conjurers to do with witchcraft? By this time the answer is fairly obvious. The practisers of the magic arts, the charmers and enchanters, were responsible for developing the notions of witchcraft. The good witch brought in her company the black witch. This in itself might never have meant more than an increased activity in the church courts. But when Protestant England grew suddenly nervous for the life of the queen, when the conjurers became a source of danger to the sovereign, and the council commenced its campaign against them, the conditions had been created in which witchcraft became at once the most dangerous and detested of crimes. While the government was busy putting down the conjurers, the aroused popular sentiment was compelling the justices of the peace and then the assize judges to hang the witches. This cannot be better illustrated than by the Abingdon affair of 1578-1579. Word had been carried to the privy council that Sir Henry Newell, justice of the peace, had committed some women near Abingdon on the charge of making waxen images.[44] The government was at once alarmed and sent a message to Sir Henry and to the Dean of Windsor instructing them to find out the facts and to discover if the plots were directed against the queen. The precaution was unnecessary. There was no ground for believing that the designs of the women accused had included the queen. Indeed the evidence of guilt of any kind was very flimsy. But the excitement of the public had been stirred to the highest pitch. The privy council had shown its fear of the women and all four of them went to the gallows.[45] The same situation that brought about the attack upon witchcraft and conjuration was no doubt responsible for the transfer of jurisdiction over the crime. We have already seen that the practice of conjuration had probably been left largely to the episcopal hierarchy for punishment.[46] The archdeacons were expected in their visitations to inquire into the practice of enchantment and magic within the parishes and to make report.[47] In the reign of Elizabeth it became no light duty. The church set itself to suppress both the consulter and the consulted.[48] By the largest number of recorded cases deal of course with the first class. It was very easy when sick or in trouble to go to a professed conjurer for help.[49] It was like seeking a physician's service, as we have seen. The church frowned upon it, but the danger involved in disobeying the church was not deemed great. The cunning man or woman was of course the one who ran the great risk. When worst came to worst and the ecclesiastical power took cognizance of his profession, the best he could do was to plead that he was a "good witch" and rendered valuable services to the community.[50] But a good end was in the eyes of the church no excuse for an evil means. The good witches were dealers with evil spirits and hence to be repressed. Yet the church was very light in its punishments. In the matter of penalties, indeed, consulter and consulted fared nearly alike, and both got off easily. Public confession and penance in one or more specifically designated churches, usually in the nearest parish church, constituted the customary penalty.[51] In a few instances it was coupled with the requirement that the criminal should stand in the pillory, taper in hand, at several places at stated times.[52] The ecclesiastical records are so full of church penances that a student is led to wonder how effectual they were in shaming the penitent into better conduct. It may well be guessed that most of the criminals were not sensitive souls that would suffer profoundly from the disgrace incurred. The control of matters of this kind was in the hands of the church by sufferance only. So long as the state was not greatly interested, the church was permitted to retain its jurisdiction.[53] Doubtless the kings of England would have claimed the state's right of jurisdiction if it had become a matter of dispute. The church itself recognized the secular power in more important cases.[54] In such cases the archdeacon usually acted with the justice of peace in conducting the examination,[55] as in rendering sentence. Even then, however, the penalty was as a rule ecclesiastical. But, with the second half of the sixteenth century, there arose new conditions which resulted in the transfer of this control to the state. Henry VIII had broken with Rome and established a Church of England around the king as a centre. The power of the church belonged to the king, and, if to the king, to his ministers and his judges. Hence certain crimes that had been under the control of the church fell under the jurisdiction of the king's courts.[56] In a more special way the same change came about through the attack of the privy council upon the conjurers. What had hitherto been a comparatively insignificant offence now became a crime against the state and was so dealt with. The change, of course, was not sudden. It was not accomplished in a year, nor in a decade. It was going on throughout the first half of Elizabeth's reign. By the beginning of the eighties the church control was disappearing. After 1585 the state had practically exclusive jurisdiction.[57] We have now finished the attempt to trace the beginning of the definite movement against witchcraft in England. What witchcraft was, what it became, how it was to be distinguished from sorcery--these are questions that we have tried to answer very briefly. We have dealt in a cursory way with a series of cases extending from Anglo-Saxon days down to the fifteenth century in order to show how unfixed was the matter of jurisdiction. We have sought also to explain how Continental opinion was introduced into England through Jewel and other Marian exiles, to show what independent forces were operating in England, and to exhibit the growing influence of the charmers and their relation to the development of witchcraft; and lastly we have aimed to prove that the special danger to the queen had no little part in creating the crusade against witches. These are conclusions of some moment and a caution must be inserted. We have been treating of a period where facts are few and information fragmentary. Under such circumstances conclusions can only be tentative. Perhaps the most that can be said of them is that they are suggestions. [1] Benjamin Thorpe, _Ancient Laws and Institutes of England_ (London, 1840), I, 41; Liebermann, _Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen_ (Halle, 1906), and passages cited in his _Wörterbuch_ under _wiccan_, _wiccacræft_; Thomas Wright, ed., _A Contemporary Narrative of the Proceedings against Dame Alice Kyteler_ (Camden Soc., London, 1843), introd., i-iii. [2] George L. Burr, "The Literature of Witchcraft," printed in _Papers of the Am. Hist. Assoc._, IV (New York, 1890), 244. [3] Henry C. Lea, _History of the Inquisition in Spain_ (New York, 1906-1907), IV, 207; _cf._ his _History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages_ (New York, 1888), III, chs. VI, VII. The most elaborate study of the rise of the delusion is that by J. Hansen, _Zauberwahn, Inquisition und Hexenprozess im Mittelalter_ (Cologne, 1900). [4] Lea, _Inquisition in Spain_, IV, 206. [5] Pollock and Maitland, _History of English Law_ (2d ed., Cambridge, 1898), II, 554. [6] _Ibid._ See also Wright, ed., _Proceedings against Dame Alice Kyteler_, introd., ix. [7] _Ibid._, x. Lincoln, not Norwich, as Wright's text (followed by Pollock and Maitland) has it. See the royal letter itself printed in his footnote, and _cf._ Rymer's _Foedera_ (under date of 2 Jan. 1406) and the _Calendar of the Patent Rolls_ (Henry IV, vol. III, p. 112). The bishop was Philip Repington, late the King's chaplain and confessor. [8] L. O. Pike, _History of Crime in England_ (London, 1873), I, 355-356. [9] _Ibid._ Sir Harris Nicolas, _Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council_ (London, 1834-1837). IV, 114. [10] _English Chronicle of the Reigns of Richard II_, etc., edited by J. S. Davies (Camden Soc., London, 1856), 57-60. [11] _Ramsay, Lancaster and York_ (Oxford, 1892), II, 31-35; Wright, ed., _Proceedings against Dame Alice Kyteler_, introd., xv-xvi, quoting the Chronicle of London; K. H. Vickers, _Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester_ (London, 1907), 269-279. [12] Wright, ed., _op. cit._, introd., xvi-xvii. [13] James Gairdner, _Life and Reign of Richard III_ (2d ed., London, 1879), 81-89. Jane Shore was finally tried before the court of the Bishop of London. [14] Sir J. F. Stephen, _History of the Criminal Law of England_ (London, 1883), II, 410, gives five instances from Archdeacon Hale's _Ecclesiastical Precedents_; see extracts from Lincoln Episcopal Visitations in _Archæologia_ (Soc. of Antiquaries, London), XLVIII, 254-255, 262; see also articles of visitation, etc., for 1547 and 1559 in David Wilkins, _Concilia Magnae Britanniae_ (London, 1737), IV, 25, 186, 190. [15] An earlier statute had mentioned sorcery and witchcraft in connection with medical practitioners. The "Act concerning Phesicions and Surgeons" of 3 Henry VIII, ch. XI, was aimed against quacks. "Forasmoche as the science and connyng of Physyke and Surgerie to the perfecte knowlege wherof bee requisite bothe grete lernyng and ripe experience ys daily ... exercised by a grete multitude of ignoraunt persones ... soofarfurth that common Artificers as Smythes Wevers and Women boldely and custumably take upon theim grete curis and thyngys of great difficultie In the which they partely use socery and which crafte [_sic_] partely applie such medicyne unto the disease as be verey noyous," it was required that every candidate to practice medicine should be examined by the bishop of the diocese (in London by either the bishop or the Dean of St. Paul's). [16] Stephen, _History of Criminal Law_, II, 431, says of this act: "Hutchinson suggests that this act, which was passed two years after the act of the Six Articles, was intended as a 'hank upon the reformers,' that the part of it to which importance was attached was the pulling down of crosses, which, it seems, was supposed to be practised in connection with magic. Hutchinson adds that the act was never put into execution either against witches or reformers. The act was certainly passed during that period of Henry's reign when he was inclining in the Roman Catholic direction." The part of the act to which Hutchinson refers reads as follows: "And for execucion of their saide falce devyses and practises have made or caused to be made dyvers Images and pictures of men, women, childrene, Angelles or develles, beastes or fowles, ... and gyving faithe and credit to suche fantasticall practises have dygged up and pulled downe an infinite nombre of Crosses within this Realme." [17] _Parliamentary History_ (London, 1751-1762), III, 229. [18] _Ibid._ [19] _Autobiography of Edward Underhill_ (in _Narratives of the Days of the Reformation_, Camden Soc., London, 1859), 172-175. [20] The measure in fact reached the engrossing stage in the Commons. Both houses, however, adjourned early in April and left it unpassed. [21] Several of the bishops who were appointed on Elizabeth's accession had travelled in South Germany and Switzerland during the Marian period and had the opportunity of familiarizing themselves with the propaganda in these parts against witches. Thomas Bentham, who was to be bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, had retired from England to Zurich and had afterwards been preacher to the exiles at Basel. John Parkhurst, appointed bishop of Norwich, had settled in Zurich on Mary's accession. John Scory, appointed bishop of Hereford, had served as chaplain to the exiles in Geneva. Richard Cox, appointed bishop of Ely, had visited Frankfort and Strassburg. Edmund Grindall, who was to be the new bishop of London, had, during his exile, visited Strassburg, Speier, and Frankfort. Miles Coverdale, who had been bishop of Exeter but who was not reappointed, had been in Geneva in the course of his exile. There were many other churchmen of less importance who at one time or another during the Marian period visited Zurich. See Bullinger's _Diarium_ (Basel, 1904) and Pellican's _Chronikon_ (Basel, 1877), _passim_, as also Theodor Vetter, _Relations between England and Zurich during the Reformation_ (London, 1904). At Strassburg the persecution raged somewhat later; but how thoroughly Bucer and his colleagues approved and urged it is clear from a letter of advice addressed by them in 1538 to their fellow pastor Schwebel, of Zweibrücken (printed as No. 88 in the _Centuria Epistolarum_ appended to Schwebel's _Scripta Theologica_, Zweibrücken, 1605). That Bucer while in England (1549-1551) found also occasion to utter these views can hardly be doubted. These details I owe to Professor Burr. [22] Various dates have been assigned for Jewel's sermon, but it can be determined approximately from a passage in the discourse. In the course of the sermon he remarked: "I would wish that once again, as time should serve, there might be had a quiet and sober disputation, that each part might be required to shew their grounds without self will and without affection, not to maintain or breed contention, ... but only that the truth may be known.... For, at the last disputation that should have been, you know which party gave over and would not meddle." This is clearly an allusion to the Westminster disputation of the last of March, 1559; see John Strype, _Annals of the Reformation_ (London, 1709-1731; Oxford, 1824), ed. of 1824, I, pt. i, 128. The sermon therefore was preached after that disputation. It may be further inferred that it was preached before Jewel's controversy with Cole in March, 1560. The words, "For at the last disputation ... you know which party gave over and would not meddle," were hardly written after Cole accepted Jewel's challenge. It was on the second Sunday before Easter (March 17), 1560, that Jewel delivered at court the discourse in which he challenged dispute on four points of church doctrine. On the next day Henry Cole addressed him a letter in which he asked him why he "yesterday in the Court and at all other times at Paul's Cross" offered rather to "dispute in these four points than in the chief matters that lie in question betwixt the Church of Rome and the Protestants." In replying to Cole on the 20th of March Jewel wrote that he stood only upon the negative and again mentioned his offer. On the 31st of March he repeated his challenge upon the four points, and upon this occasion went very much into detail in supporting them. Now, in the sermon which we are trying to date, the sermon in which allusion is made to the prevalence of witches, the four points are briefly named. It may be reasonably conjectured that this sermon anticipated the elaboration of the four points as well as the challenging sermon of March 17. It is as certain that it was delivered after Jewel's return to London from his visitation in the west country. On November 2, 1559, he wrote to Peter Martyr: "I have at last returned to London, with a body worn out by a most fatiguing journey." See _Zurich Letters_, I (Parker Soc., Cambridge, 1842), 44. It is interesting and significant that he adds: "We found in all places votive relics of saints, nails with which the infatuated people dreamed that Christ had been pierced, and I know not what small fragments of the sacred cross. The number of witches and sorceresses had everywhere become enormous." Jewel was consecrated Bishop of Salisbury in the following January, having been nominated in the summer of 1559 just before his western visitation. The sermon in which he alluded to witches may have been preached at any time after he returned from the west, November 2, and before March 17. It would be entirely natural that in a court sermon delivered by the newly appointed bishop of Salisbury the prevalence of witchcraft should be mentioned. It does not seem a rash guess that the sermon was preached soon after his return, perhaps in December, when the impression of what he had seen in the west was still fresh in his memory. But it is not necessary to make this supposition. Though the discourse was delivered some time after March 15, 1559, when the first bill "against Conjurations, Prophecies, etc.," was brought before the Commons (see _Journal of the House of Commons_, I, 57), it is not unreasonable to believe that there was some connection between the discourse and the fortunes of this bill. That connection seems the more probable on a careful reading of the Commons Journals for the first sessions of Elizabeth's Parliament. It is evident that the Elizabethan legislators were working in close cooperation with the ecclesiastical authorities. Jewel's sermon may be found in his _Works_ (ed. for the Parker Soc., Cambridge, 1845-1850), II, 1025-1034. (For the correspondence with Cole see I, 26 ff.) For assistance in dating this sermon the writer wishes to express his special obligation to Professor Burr. [23] Strype, _Annals of the Reformation_, I, pt. i, 11. He may, indeed, mean to ascribe it, not to the sermon, but to the evils alleged by the sermon. [24] In the contemporary account entitled _A True and just Recorde of the Information, Examination, and Confession of all the Witches taken at St. Oses.... Written ... by W. W._ (1582), next leaf after B 5, we read: "there is a man of great cunning and knowledge come over lately unto our Queenes Maiestie, which hath advertised her what a companie and number of witches be within Englande." This probably refers to Jewel. [25] See _ibid._, B 5 verso: "I and other of her Justices have received commission for the apprehending of as many as are within these limites." This was written later, but the event is referred to as following what must have been Bishop Jewel's sermon. [26] Thomas Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_ (ed. of N. Y., 1852), 126 ff.; see also his _Elizabeth and her Times_ (London, 1838), I, 457, letter of Shrewsbury to Burghley. [27] Wright, _Narratives_, 130 ff. [28] _Ibid._, 134. [29] See Reginald Scot, _The Discoverie of Witchcraft_ (London, 1584; reprinted, Brinsley Nicholson, ed., London, 1886), 4. [30] A very typical instance was that in Kent in 1597, see _Archæologia Cantiana_ (Kent Archæological Soc., London), XXVI, 21. Several good instances are given in the _Hertfordshire County Session Rolls_ (compiled by W. J. Hardy, London, 1905), I; see also J. Raine, ed., _Depositions respecting the Rebellion of 1569, Witchcraft, and other Ecclesiastical Proceedings from the Court of Durham_ (Surtees Soc., London, 1845), 99, 100. [31] J. Raine, ed., _Injunctions and other Ecclesiastical Proceedings of Richard Barnes, Bishop of Durham_ (Surtees Soc., London, 1850), 18; H. Owen and J. B. Blakeway, _History of Shrewsbury_ (London, 1825), II, 364, art. 43. [32] _Arch. Cant._, XXVI, 19. [33] _Hertfordshire Co. Sess. Rolls_, I, 3. [34] See _Depositions ... from the Court of Durham_, 99; _Arch. Cant._, XXVI, 21; W. H. Hale, _Precedents_, etc. (London, 1847), 148, 185. [35] Hale, _op. cit._, 163; _Middlesex County Records_, ed. by J. C. Jeaffreson (London, 1892), I, 84, 94. [36] For an instance of how a "wise woman" feared this very thing, see Hale, _op. cit._, 147. [37] See _Witches taken at St. Oses_, E; also Dr. Barrow's opinion in the pamphlet entitled _The most strange and admirable discoverie of the three Witches of Warboys, arraigned, convicted and executed at the last assizes at Huntingdon...._ (London, 1593). [38] _Folk Lore Soc. Journal_, II, 157-158, where this story is quoted from a work by "Wm. Clouues, Mayster in Chirurgery," published in 1588. He only professed to have "reade" of it, so that it is perhaps just a pleasant tradition. If it is nothing more than that, it is at least an interesting evidence of opinion. [39] Strype, _Annals of the Reformation_, I, pt. i, 9-10; _Dictionary of National Biography_, article on Anthony Fortescue, by G. K. Fortescue. [40] Strype, _op. cit._, I, pt. i, 546, 555-558; also Wright, _Elizabeth and her Times_, I, 121, where a letter from Cecil to Sir Thomas Smith is printed. [41] The interest which the privy council showed in sorcery and witchcraft during the earlier part of the reign is indicated in the following references: _Acts of the Privy Council_, new series, VII, 6, 22, 200-201; X, 220, 382; XI, 22, 36, 292, 370-371, 427; XII, 21-22, 23, 26, 29, 34, 102, 251; _Calendar of State Papers, Domestic, 1547-1580_, 137, 142; _id._, _1581-1590_, 29, 220, 246-247; _id._, _Add. 1580-1625_, 120-121; see also John Strype, _Life of Sir Thomas Smith_ (London, 1698; Oxford, 1820), ed. of 1820, 127-129. The case mentioned in _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1581-1590_, 29, was probably a result of the activity of the privy council. The case in _id._, _Add., 1580-1625_, 120-121, is an instance of where the accused was suspected of both witchcraft and "high treason touching the supremacy." Nearly all of the above mentioned references to the activity of the privy council refer to the first half of the reign and a goodly proportion to the years 1578-1582. [42] _Acts P. C._, n. s., XI, 292. [43] Strype, _Sir Thomas Smith_, 127-129. [44] _A Rehearsall both straung and true of hainous and horrible acts committed by Elizabeth Stile_, etc. (for full title see appendix). This pamphlet is in black letter. Its account is confirmed by the reference in _Acts P. C._, n. s., XI, 22. See also Scot, _Discoverie_, 51, 543. [45] An aged widow had been committed to gaol on the testimony of her neighbors that she was "lewde, malitious, and hurtful to the people." An ostler, after he had refused to give her relief, had suffered a pain. So far as the account goes, this was the sum of the evidence against the woman. Unhappily she waited not on the order of her trial but made voluble confession and implicated five others, three of whom were without doubt professional enchanters. She had met, she said, with Mother Dutten, Mother Devell, and Mother Margaret, and "concluded several hainous and vilanous practices." The deaths of five persons whom she named were the outcome of their concerted plans. For the death of a sixth she avowed entire responsibility. This amazing confession may have been suggested to her piece by piece, but it was received at full value. That she included others in her guilt was perhaps because she responded to the evident interest aroused by such additions, or more likely because she had grudges unsatisfied. The women were friendless, three of the four were partially dependent upon alms, there was no one to come to their help, and they were convicted. The man that had been arraigned, a "charmer," seems to have gone free. [46] _Injunctions ... of ... Bishop of Durham_, 18, 84, 99; Visitations of Canterbury, in _Arch. Cant._, XXVI; Hale, _Precedents, 1475-1640_, 147, etc. [47] Arch. Cant., XXVI, _passim_; Hale, _op. cit._, 147, 148, 163, 185; Mrs. Lynn Linton, _Witch Stories_ (London, 1861; new ed., 1883), 144. [48] See Hale, _op. cit._, 148, 157. [49] Hale, _op. cit._, 148; _Depositions ... from the Court of Durham_, 99; _Arch. Cant._, XXVI, 21. [50] Hale, _op. cit._, 148, 185. [51] _Ibid._, 157. [52] _Denham Tracts_ (Folk Lore Soc., London), II, 332; John Sykes, _Local Record ... of Remarkable Events ... in Northumberland, Durham, ..._ etc. (2d ed., Newcastle, 1833-1852), I, 79. [53] See, for example, _Acts P. C._, n. s., VII, 32 (1558). [54] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1547-1580_, 173. Instance where the Bishop of London seems to have examined a case and turned it over to the privy council. [55] Rachel Pinder and Agnes Bridges, who pretended to be possessed by the Devil, were examined before the "person of St. Margarets in Lothberry," and the Mayor of London, as well as some justices of the peace. They later made confession before the Archbishop of Canterbury and some justices of the peace. See the black letter pamphlet, _The discloysing of a late counterfeyted possession by the devyl in two maydens within the Citie of London_ [1574]. [56] Francis Coxe came before the queen rather than the church. He narrates his experiences in _A short treatise declaringe the detestable wickednesse of magicall sciences, ..._ (1561). Yet John Walsh, a man with a similar record, came before the commissary of the Bishop of Exeter. See _The Examination of John Walsh before Master Thomas Williams, Commissary to the Reverend father in God, William, bishop of Excester, upon certayne Interrogatories touchyng Wytch-crafte and Sorcerye, in the presence of divers gentlemen and others, the XX of August, 1566_. [57] We say "practically," because instances of church jurisdiction come to light now and again throughout the seventeenth century. CHAPTER II. WITCHCRAFT UNDER ELIZABETH. The year 1566 is hardly less interesting in the history of English witchcraft than 1563. It has been seen that the new statute passed in 1563 was the beginning of a vigorous prosecution by the state of the detested agents of the evil one. In 1566 occurred the first important trial known to us in the new period. That trial deserves note not only on its own account, but because it was recorded in the first of the long series of witch chap-books--if we may so call them. A very large proportion of our information about the execution of the witches is derived from these crude pamphlets, briefly recounting the trials. The witch chap-book was a distinct species. In the days when the chronicles were the only newspapers it was what is now the "extra," brought out to catch the public before the sensation had lost its flavor. It was of course a partisan document, usually a vindication of the worthy judge who had condemned the guilty, with some moral and religious considerations by the respectable and righteous author. A terribly serious bit of history it was that he had to tell and he told it grimly and without pity. Such comedy as lights up the gloomy black-letter pages was quite unintentional. He told a story too that was full of details trivial enough in themselves, but details that give many glimpses into the every-day life of the lower classes in town and country. The pamphlet of 1566 was brief and compact of information. It was entitled _The examination and confession of certaine Wytches at Chensforde in the Countie of Essex before the Quenes Maiesties Judges the XXVI daye of July anno 1566_. The trial there recorded is one that presents some of the most curious and inexplicable features in the annals of English witchcraft. The personnel of the "size" court is mysterious. At the first examination "Doctor Cole" and "Master Foscue" were present. Both men are easily identified. Doctor Cole was the Reverend Thomas Cole, who had held several places in Essex and had in 1564 been presented to the rectory of Stanford Rivers, about ten miles from Chelmsford. Master Foscue was unquestionably Sir John Fortescue, later Chancellor of the Exchequer, and at this time keeper of the great wardrobe. On the second examination Sir Gilbert Gerard, the queen's attorney, and John Southcote, justice of the queen's bench, were present. Why Southcote should be present is perfectly clear. It is not so easy to understand about the others. Was the attorney-general acting as presiding officer, or was he conducting the prosecution? The latter hypothesis is of course more consistent with his position. But what were the rector of Stanford Rivers and the keeper of the great wardrobe doing there? Had Doctor Cole been appointed in recognition of the claims of the church? And the keeper of the wardrobe, what was the part that he played? One cannot easily escape the conclusion that the case was deemed one of unusual significance. Perhaps the privy council had heard of something that alarmed it and had delegated these four men, all known at Elizabeth's court, to examine into the matter in connection with the assizes. The examinations themselves present features of more interest to the psychologist than to the historical student. Yet they have some importance in the understanding of witchcraft as a social phenomenon. Elizabeth Francis, when examined, confessed with readiness to various "vilanies." From her grandmother she said she had as a child received a white spotted cat, named Sathan, whom she had fed, and who gave her what she asked for. "She desired to have one Andrew Byles to her husband, which was a man of some welth, and the cat dyd promyse she shold." But the promise proved illusory. The man left her without marriage and then she "willed Sathan ... to touch his body, whych he forthewith dyd, whereof he died." Once again she importuned Satan for a husband. This time she gained one "not so rich as the other." She bore a daughter to him, but the marriage was an unhappy one. "They lived not so quietly as she desyred, beinge stirred to much unquietnes and moved to swearing and cursinge." Thereupon she employed the spirit to kill her child and to lame her husband. After keeping the cat fifteen years she turned it over to Mother Waterhouse, "a pore woman."[1] Mother Waterhouse was now examined. She had received the cat and kept it "a great while in woll in a pot." She had then turned it into a toad. She had used it to kill geese, hogs, and cattle of her neighbors. At length she had employed it to kill a neighbor whom she disliked, and finally her own husband. The woman's eighteen-year-old daughter, Joan, was now called to the stand and confirmed the fact that her mother kept a toad. She herself had one day been refused a piece of bread and cheese by a neighbor's child and had invoked the toad's help. The toad promised to assist her if she would surrender her soul. She did so. Then the toad haunted the neighbor's girl in the form of a dog with horns. The mother was again called to the stand and repeated the curious story told by her daughter. Now the neighbor's child, Agnes Brown, was brought in to testify. Her story tallied in some of its details with that of the two Waterhouse women; she had been haunted by the horned dog, and she added certain descriptions of its conduct that revealed good play of childish imagination.[2] The attorney put some questions, but rather to lead on the witnesses than to entangle them. He succeeded, however, in creating a violent altercation between the Waterhouses on the one hand, and Agnes Brown on the other, over trifling matters of detail.[3] At length he offered to release Mother Waterhouse if she would make the spirit appear in the court.[4] The offer was waived. The attorney then asked, "When dyd thye Cat suck of thy bloud?" "Never," said she. He commanded the jailer to lift up the "kercher" on the woman's head. He did so and the spots on her face and nose where she had pricked herself for the evil spirit were exposed. The jury retired. Two days later Agnes Waterhouse suffered the penalty of the law, not however until she had added to her confessions.[5] The case is a baffling one. We can be quite sure that the pamphlet account is incomplete. One would like to know more about the substance of fact behind this evidence. Did the parties that were said to have been killed by witchcraft really die at the times specified? Either the facts of their deaths were well known in the community and were fitted with great cleverness into the story Mother Waterhouse told, or the jurors and the judges neglected the first principles of common sense and failed to inquire about the facts.[6] The questions asked by the queen's attorney reveal hardly more than an unintelligent curiosity to know the rest of the story. He shows just one saving glint of skepticism. He offered to release Mother Waterhouse if she would materialize her spirit. Mother Waterhouse was her own worst enemy. Her own testimony was the principal evidence presented against her, and yet she denied guilt on one particular upon which the attorney-general had interrogated her. This might lead one to suppose that her answers were the haphazard replies of a half-witted woman. But the supposition is by no means consistent with the very definite and clear-cut nature of her testimony. It is useless to try to unravel the tangles of the case. It is possible that under some sort of duress--although there is no evidence of this--she had deliberately concocted a story to fit those of Elizabeth Francis and Agnes Brown, and that her daughter, hearing her mother's narrative in court--a very possible thing in that day--had fitted hers into it. It is conceivable too that Mother Waterhouse had yielded merely to the wish to amaze her listeners. It is a more probable supposition that the questions asked of her by the judge were based upon the accusations already made by Agnes Brown and that they suggested to her the main outlines of her narrative. Elizabeth Francis, who had been the first accused and who had accused Mother Waterhouse, escaped. Whether it was because she had turned state's evidence or because she had influential friends in the community, we do not know. It is possible that the judges recognized that her confession was unsupported by the testimony of other witnesses. Such a supposition, however, credits the court with keener discrimination than seems ever to have been exhibited in such cases in the sixteenth century.[7] But, though Elizabeth Francis had escaped, her reputation as a dangerous woman in the community was fixed. Thirteen years later she was again put on trial before the itinerant justices. This brings us to the second trial of witches at Chelmsford in 1579. Mistress Francis's examination elicited less than in the first trial. She had cursed a woman "and badde a mischief to light uppon her." The woman, she understood, was grievously pained. She followed the course that she had taken before and began to accuse others. We know very little as to the outcome. At least one of the women accused went free because "manslaughter or murder was not objected against her."[8] Three women, however, were condemned and executed. One of them was almost certainly Elleine Smith, daughter of a woman hanged as a witch,--another illustration of the persistence of suspicion against the members of a family. The Chelmsford affair of 1579[9] was not unlike that of 1566. There were the same tales of spirits that assumed animal forms. The young son of Elleine Smith declared that his mother kept three spirits, Great Dick in a wicker bottle, Little Dick in a leathern bottle, and Willet in a wool-pack. Goodwife Webb saw "a thyng like a black Dogge goe out of her doore." But the general character of the testimony in the second trial bore no relation to that in the first. There was no agreement of the different witnesses. The evidence was haphazard. The witch and another woman had a falling out--fallings out were very common. Next day the woman was taken ill. This was the sort of unimpeachable testimony that was to be accepted for a century yet. In the affair of 1566 the judges had made some attempt at quizzing the witnesses, but in 1579 all testimony was seemingly rated at par.[10] In both instances the proof rested mainly upon confession. Every woman executed had made confessions of guilt. This of course was deemed sufficient. Nevertheless the courts were beginning to introduce other methods of proving the accused guilty. The marks on Agnes Waterhouse had been uncovered at the request of the attorney-general; and at her execution she had been questioned about her ability to say the Lord's Prayer and other parts of the service. Neither of these matters was emphasized, but the mention of them proves that notions were already current that were later to have great vogue. The Chelmsford cases find their greatest significance, however, not as illustrations of the use and abuse of evidence, but because they exemplify the continuity of the witch movement. That continuity finds further illustration in the fact that there was a third alarm at Chelmsford in 1589, which resulted in three more executions. But in this case the women involved seem, so far as we know, to have had no connection with the earlier cases. The fate of Elizabeth Francis and that of Elleine Smith are more instructive as proof of the long-standing nature of a community suspicion. Elleine could not escape her mother's reputation nor Elizabeth her own. Both these women seem to have been of low character at any rate. Elizabeth had admitted illicit amours, and Elleine may very well have been guilty on the same count.[11] All of the women involved in the two trials were in circumstances of wretched poverty; most, if not all, of them were dependent upon begging and the poor relief for support.[12] It is easy to imagine the excitement in Essex that these trials must have produced. The accused had represented a wide territory in the county. The women had been fetched to Chelmsford from towns as far apart as Hatfield-Peverel and Maldon. It is not remarkable that three years later than the affair of 1579 there should have been another outbreak in the county, this time in a more aggravated form. St. Oses, or St. Osyth's, to the northeast of Chelmsford, was to be the scene of the most remarkable affair of its kind in Elizabethan times. The alarm began with the formulation of charges against a woman of the community. Ursley Kemp was a poor woman of doubtful reputation. She rendered miscellaneous services to her neighbors. She acted as midwife, nursed children, and added to her income by "unwitching" the diseased. Like other women of the sort, she was looked upon with suspicion. Hence, when she had been refused the nursing of the child of Grace Thurlow, a servant of that Mr. Darcy who was later to try her, and when the child soon afterward fell out of its cradle and broke its neck, the mother suspected Ursley of witchcraft. Nevertheless she did not refuse her help when she "began to have a lameness in her bones." Ursley promised to unwitch her and seemingly kept her word, for the lameness disappeared. Then it was that the nurse-woman asked for the twelve-pence she had been promised and was refused. Grace pleaded that she was a "poore and needie woman." Ursley became angry and threatened to be even with her. The lameness reappeared and Grace Thurlow was thoroughly convinced that Ursley was to blame. When the case was carried before the justices of the peace, the accused woman denied that she was guilty of anything more than unwitching the afflicted. That she had learned, she said, ten or more years ago from a woman now deceased. She was committed to the assizes, and Justice Brian Darcy, whose servant Grace Thurlow had started the trouble, took the case in hand. He examined her eight-year-old "base son," who gave damning evidence against his mother. She fed four imps, Tyffin, Tittey, Piggen, and Jacket. The boy's testimony and the judge's promise that if she would confess the truth she "would have favour," seemed to break down the woman's resolution. "Bursting out with weeping she fell upon her knees and confessed that she had four spirits." Two of them she had used for laming, two for killing. Not only the details of her son's evidence, but all the earlier charges, she confirmed step by step, first in private confessions to the judge and then publicly at the court sessions. The woman's stories tallied with those of all her accusers[13] and displayed no little play of imagination in the orientation of details.[14] Not content with thus entangling herself in a fearful web of crime, she went on to point out other women guilty of similar witchcrafts. Four of those whom she named were haled before the justice. Elizabeth Bennett, who spun wool for a cloth-maker, was one of those most vehemently accused, but she denied knowledge of any kind of witchcraft. It had been charged against her that she kept some wool hidden in a pot under some stones in her house. She denied at first the possession of this potent and malignant charm; but, influenced by the gentle urgings of Justice Darcy,[15] she gave way, as Ursley Kemp had done, and, breaking all restraint, poured forth wild stories of devilish crimes committed through the assistance of her imps. But why should we trace out the confessions, charges, and counter-charges that followed? The stories that were poured forth continued to involve a widening group until sixteen persons were under accusation of the most awful crimes, committed by demoniacal agency. As at Chelmsford, they were the dregs of the lower classes, women with illegitimate children, some of them dependent upon public support. It will be seen that in some respects the panic bore a likeness to those that had preceded. The spirits, which took extraordinary and bizarre forms, were the offspring of the same perverted imaginations, but they had assumed new shapes. Ursley Kemp kept a white lamb, a little gray cat, a black cat, and a black toad. There were spirits of every sort, "two little thyngs like horses, one white, the other black'"; six "spirits like cowes ... as big as rattles"; spirits masquerading as blackbirds. One spirit strangely enough remained invisible. It will be observed by the reader that the spirits almost fitted into a color scheme. Very vivid colors were those preferred in their spirits by these St. Oses women. The reader can see, too, that the confessions showed the influence of the great cat tradition. We have seen the readiness with which the deluded women made confession. Some of the confessions were poured forth as from souls long surcharged with guilt. But not all of them came in this way. Margerie Sammon, who had testified against one of her neighbors, was finally herself caught in the web of accusation in which a sister had also been involved. She was accused by her sister. "I defie thee," she answered, "though thou art my sister." But her sister drew her aside and "whyspered her in the eare," after which, with "great submission and many teares," she made a voluble confession. One wonders about that whispered consultation. Had her sister perhaps suggested that the justice was offering mercy to those who confessed? For Justice Darcy was very liberal with his promises of mercy and absolutely unscrupulous about breaking them.[16] It is gratifying to be able to record that there was yet a remnant left who confessed nothing at all and stood stubborn to the last. One of them was Margaret Grevel, who denied the accusations against her. She "saith that shee herselfe hath lost severall bruings and bakings of bread, and also swine, but she never did complaine thereof: saying that shee wished her gere were at a stay and then shee cared not whether shee were hanged or burnt or what did become of her." Annis Herd was another who stuck to her innocence. She could recall various incidents mentioned by her accusers; it was true that she had talked to Andrew West about getting a pig, it was true that she had seen Mr. Harrison at his parsonage gathering plums and had asked for some and been refused. But she denied that she had any imps or that she had killed any one. The use of evidence in this trial would lead one to suppose that in England no rules of evidence were yet in existence. The testimony of children ranging in age from six to nine was eagerly received. No objection indeed was made to the testimony of a neighbor who professed to have overheard what he deemed an incriminating statement. As a matter of fact the remark, if made, was harmless enough.[17] Expert evidence was introduced in a roundabout way by the statement offered in court that a physician had suspected that a certain case was witchcraft. Nothing was excluded. The garrulous women had been give free rein to pile up their silly accusations against one another. Not until the trial was nearing its end does it seem to have occurred to Brian Darcy to warn a woman against making false charges. It will be recalled that in the Chelmsford trials Mother Waterhouse had been found to have upon her certain marks, yet little emphasis had been laid upon them. In the trials of 1582 the proof drawn from these marks was deemed of the first importance and the judge appointed juries of women to make examination. No artist has yet dared to paint the picture of the gloating female inquisitors grouped around their naked and trembling victim, a scene that was to be enacted in many a witch trial. And it is well, for the scene would be too repellent and brutal for reproduction. In the use of these specially instituted juries there was no care to get unbiassed decisions. One of the inquisitors appointed to examine Cystley Celles had already served as witness against her. It is hard to refrain from an indictment of the hopelessly prejudiced justice who gathered the evidence.[18] To entrap the defendants seems to have been his end. In the account which he wrote[19] he seems to have feared lest the public should fail to understand how his cleverness ministered to the conviction of the women.[20] "There is a man," he wrote, "of great cunning and knowledge come over lately unto our Queenes Maiestie, which hath advertised her what a companie and number of witches be within Englande: whereupon I and other of her Justices have received commission for the apprehending of as many as are within these limites." No doubt he hoped to attract royal notice and win favor by his zeal. The Chelmsford affairs and that at St. Oses were the three remarkable trials of their kind in the first part of Elizabeth's reign. They furnish some evidence of the progress of superstition. The procedure in 1582 reveals considerable advance over that of 1566. The theory of diabolic agency had been elaborated. The testimony offered was gaining in complexity and in variety. New proofs of guilt were being introduced as well as new methods of testing the matter. In the second part of Elizabeth's reign we have but one trial of unusual interest, that at Warboys in Huntingdonshire. This, we shall see, continued the elaboration of the witch procedure. It was a case that attracted probably more notice at the time than any other in the sixteenth century. The accidental fancy of a child and the pronouncement of a baffled physician were in this instance the originating causes of the trouble. One of the children of Sir Robert Throckmorton, head of a prominent family in Huntingdonshire, was taken ill. It so happened that a neighbor, by name Alice Samuel, called at the house and the ailing and nervous child took the notion that the woman was a witch and cried out against her. "Did you ever see, sayd the child, one more like a witch then she is; take off her blacke thrumbd cap, for I cannot abide to looke on her." Her parents apparently thought nothing of this at the time. When Dr. Barrow, an eminent physician of Cambridge, having treated the child for two of the diseases of children, and without success, asked the mother and father if any witchcraft were suspected, he was answered in the negative. The Throckmortons were by no means quick to harbor a suspicion. But when two and then three other children in the family fell ill and began in the same way to designate Mother Samuel as a witch, the parents were more willing to heed the hint thrown out by the physician. The suspected woman was forcibly brought by Gilbert Pickering, an uncle of the children, into their presence. The children at once fell upon the ground "strangely tormented," and insisted upon scratching Mother Samuel's hand. Meantime Lady Cromwell[21] visited at the Throckmorton house, and, after an interview with Alice Samuel, suffered in her dreams from her till at length she fell ill and died, something over a year later. This confirmed what had been suspicion. To detail all the steps taken to prove Mother Samuel guilty is unnecessary. A degree of caution was used which was remarkable. Henry Pickering, a relative, and some of his fellow scholars at Cambridge made an investigation into the case, but decided with the others that the woman was guilty. Mother Samuel herself laid the whole trouble to the children's "wantonness." Again and again she was urged by the children to confess. "Such were the heavenly and divine speeches of the children in their fits to this old woman ... as that if a man had heard it he would not have thought himself better edified at ten sermons." The parents pleaded with her to admit her responsibility for the constantly recurring sickness of their children, but she denied bitterly that she was to blame. She was compelled to live at the Throckmorton house and to be a witness constantly to the strange behavior of the children. The poor creature was dragged back and forth, watched and experimented upon in a dozen ways, until it is little wonder that she grew ill and spent her nights in groaning. She was implored to confess and told that all might yet be well. For a long time she persisted in her denial, but at length in a moment of weakness, when the children had come out of their fits at her chance exhortation to them, she became convinced that she was guilty and exclaimed, "O sir, I have been the cause of all this trouble to your children." The woman, who up to this time had shown some spirit, had broken down. She now confessed that she had given her soul to the Devil. A clergyman was hastily sent for, who preached a sermon of repentance, upon which the distracted woman made a public confession. But on the next day, after she had been refreshed by sleep and had been in her own home again, she denied her confession. The constable now prepared to take the woman as well as her daughter to the Bishop of Lincoln, and the frightened creature again made a confession. In the presence of the bishop she reiterated her story in detail and gave the names of her spirits. She was put in gaol at Huntingdon and with her were imprisoned her daughter Agnes and her husband John Samuel, who were now accused by the Throckmorton children, and all three were tried at the assizes in Huntingdon before Judge Fenner. The facts already narrated were given in evidence, the seizures of the children at the appearance of any of the Samuel family[22], the certainty with which the children could with closed eyes pick Mother Samuel out of a crowd and scratch her, the confessions of the crazed creature, all these evidences were given to the court. But the strongest proof was that given in the presence of the court. The daughter Agnes Samuel was charged to repeat, "As I am a witch and consenting to the death of Lady Cromwell, I charge thee, come out of her."[23] At this charge the children would at once recover from their fits. But a charge phrased negatively, "As I am no witch," was ineffectual. And the affirmative charge, when tried by some other person, had no result. This was deemed conclusive proof. The woman was beyond doubt guilty. The same method was applied with equally successful issue to the father. When he refused to use the words of the charge he was warned by the judge that he would endanger his life. He gave way. It is needless to say that the grand jury arraigned all three of the family and that the "jury of life and death" found them guilty. It needed but a five hours' trial.[24] The mother was induced to plead pregnancy as a delay to execution, but after an examination by a jury was adjudged not pregnant. The daughter had been urged to make the same defence, but spiritedly replied, "It shall never be said that I was both a witch and a whore." At the execution the mother made another confession, in which she implicated her husband, but refused to the end to accuse her daughter. From beginning to end it had been the strong against the weak. Sir Robert Throckmorton, Sir Henry Cromwell, William Wickham, Bishop of Lincoln, the justices of the peace, Justice Fenner of the king's court, the Cambridge scholars, the "Doctor of Divinitie," and two other clergymen, all were banded together against this poor but respectable family. In some respects the trial reminds us of one that was to take place ninety-nine years later in Massachusetts. The part played by the children in the two instances was very similar. Mother Samuel had hit the nail on the head when she said that the trouble was due to the children's "wantonness." Probably the first child had really suffered from some slight ailment. The others were imitators eager to gain notice and pleased with their success; and this fact was realized by some people at the time. "It had been reported by some in the county, those that thought themselves wise, that this Mother Samuel ... was an old simple woman, and that one might make her by fayre words confesse what they would." Moreover the tone of the writer's defense makes it evident that others beside Mother Samuel laid the action of the Throckmorton children to "wantonness." And six years later Samuel Harsnett, chaplain to the Bishop of London and a man already influential, called the account of the affair "a very ridiculous booke" and evidently believed the children guilty of the same pretences as William Somers, whose confessions of imposture he was relating.[25] We have already observed that the Warboys affair was the only celebrated trial of its sort in the last part of Elizabeth's reign--that is, from the time of Reginald Scot to the accession of James I. This does not mean that the superstition was waning or that the trials were on the decrease. The records show that the number of trials was steadily increasing. They were more widely distributed. London was still the centre of the belief. Chief-Justice Anderson sent Joan Kerke to Tyburn and the Middlesex sessions were still occupied with accusations. The counties adjacent to it could still claim more than two-thirds of the executions. But a far wider area was infected with the superstition. Norfolk in East Anglia, Leicester, Nottingham and Derby in the Midlands, and York and Northumberland in the North were all involved. The truth is that there are two tendencies that appear very clearly towards the last part of Elizabeth's reign. On the one hand the feeling of the people against witchcraft was growing in intensity, while on the other the administration at London was inclined to be more lenient. Pardons and reprieves were issued to women already condemned,[26] while some attempt was made to curb popular excitement. The attitude of the queen towards the celebrated John Dee was an instance in point. Dee was an eminent alchemist, astrologer, and spiritualist of his time. He has left a diary which shows us his half mystic, half scientific pursuits. In the earlier part of Mary's reign he had been accused of attempting poison or magic against the queen and had been imprisoned and examined by the privy council and by the Star Chamber. At Elizabeth's accession he had cast the horoscope for her coronation day, and he was said to have revealed to the queen who were her enemies at foreign courts. More than once afterwards Dee was called upon by the queen to render her services when she was ill or when some mysterious design against her person was feared. While he dealt with many curious things, he had consistently refused to meddle with conjuring. Indeed he had rebuked the conjurer Hartley and had refused to help the bewitched Margaret Byrom of Cleworth in Lancashire. Sometime about 1590 Dee's enemies--and he had many--put in circulation stories of his success as a conjurer. It was the more easy to do, because for a long time he had been suspected by many of unlawful dealings with spirits. His position became dangerous. He appealed to Elizabeth for protection and she gave him assurance that he might push on with his studies. Throughout her life the queen continued to stand by Dee,[27] and it was not until a new sovereign came to the throne that he again came into danger. But the moral of the incident is obvious. The privy council, so nervous about the conjurers in the days of Mary, Queen of Scots, and the Catholic and Spanish plots, was now resting easier and refused to be affrighted. We have already referred to the pardons issued as one of the evidences of the more lenient policy of the government. That policy appeared too in the lessening rigor of the assize judges. The first half of Elizabeth's reign had been marked by few acquittals. Nearly half the cases of which we have record in the second part resulted in the discharge of the accused. Whether the judges were taking their cue from the privy council or whether some of them were feeling the same reaction against the cruelty of the prosecutions, it is certain that there was a considerable nullifying of the force of the belief. We shall see in the chapter on Reginald Scot that his _Discoverie of Witchcraft_ was said to have "affected the magistracy and the clergy." It is hard to lay one's finger upon influences of this sort, but we can hardly doubt that there was some connection between Scot's brave indictment of the witch-triers and the lessening severity of court verdicts. When George Gifford, the non-conformist clergyman at Maiden, wrote his _Dialogue concerning Witches_, in which he earnestly deprecated the conviction of so many witches, he dedicated the book "to the Right Worshipful Maister Robert Clarke, one of her Maiesties Barons of her Highnesse Court of the Exchequer," and wrote that he had been "delighted to heare and see the wise and godly course used upon the seate of justice by your worship, when such have bene arraigned." Unfortunately there is not much evidence of this kind. One other fact must not be overlooked. A large percentage of the cases that went against the accused were in towns judicially independent of the assize courts. At Faversham, at Lynn, at Yarmouth, and at Leicester[28] the local municipal authorities were to blame for the hanging of witches. The regular assize courts had nothing to do with the matter. The case at Faversham in Kent was unusual. Joan Cason was indicted for bewitching to death a three-year-old child. Eight of her neighbors, seven of them women, "poore people," testified against her. The woman took up her own cause with great spirit and exposed the malicious dealings of her adversaries and also certain controversies betwixt her and them. "But although she satisfied the bench," says Holinshed, "and all the jurie touching hir innocencie ... she ... confessed that a little vermin, being of colour reddish, of stature lesse than a rat ... did ... haunt her house." She was willing too to admit illicit relations with one Mason, whose housekeeper she had been--probably the original cause of her troubles. The jury acquitted her of witchcraft, but found her guilty of the "invocation of evil spirits," intending to send her to the pillory. While the mayor was admonishing her, a lawyer called attention to the point that the invocation of evil spirits had been made a felony. The mayor sentenced the woman to execution. But, "because there was no matter of invocation given in evidence against hir, ... hir execution was staied by the space of three daies." Sundry preachers tried to wring confessions from her, but to no purpose. Yet she made so godly an end, says the chronicler, that "manie now lamented hir death which were before hir utter enimies."[29] The case illustrates vividly the clumsiness of municipal court procedure. The mayor's court was unfamiliar with the law and utterly unable to avert the consequences of its own finding. In the regular assize courts, Joan Cason would probably have been sentenced to four public appearances in the pillory. The differences between the first half and the second half of Elizabeth's reign have not been deemed wide enough by the writer to justify separate treatment. The whole reign was a time when the superstition was gaining ground. Yet in the span of years from Reginald Scot to the death of Elizabeth there was enough of reaction to justify a differentiation of statistics. In both periods, and more particularly in the first, we may be sure that some of the records have been lost and that a thorough search of local archives would reveal some trials of which we have at present no knowledge. It was a time rich in mention of witch trials, but a time too when but few cases were fully described. Scot's incidental references to the varied experiences of Sir Roger Manwood and of his uncle Sir Thomas Scot merely confirm an impression gained from the literature of the time that the witch executions were becoming, throughout the seventies and early eighties, too common to be remarkable. For the second period we have record of probably a larger percentage of all the cases. For the whole time from 1563, when the new law went into effect, down to 1603, we have records of nearly fifty executions. Of these just about two-thirds occurred in the earlier period, while of the acquittals two-thirds belong to the later period. It would be rash to attach too much significance to these figures. As a matter of fact, the records are so incomplete that the actual totals have little if any meaning and only the proportions can be considered.[30] Yet it looks as if the forces which caused the persecution of witches in England were beginning to abate; and it may fairly be inquired whether some new factor may not have entered into the situation. It is time to speak of Reginald Scot and of the exorcists. [1] Who from a confession made in 1579 seems to have been her sister. See the pamphlet _A Detection of damnable driftes, practised by three Witches arraigned at Chelmsforde in Essex at the last Assizes there holden, which were executed in Aprill, 1579_ (London, 1579). [2] _E. g._: "I was afearde for he [the dog with horns] skypped and leaped to and fro, and satte on the toppe of a nettle." [3] Whether Agnes Waterhouse had a "daggar's knife" and whether the dog had the face of an ape. [4] An offer which indicates that he was acting as judge. [5] She was questioned on her church habits. She claimed to be a regular attendant; she "prayed right hartely there." She admitted, however, that she prayed "in laten" because Sathan would not let her pray in English. [6] There is of course the further possibility that the pamphlet account was largely invented. A critical examination of the pamphlet tends to establish its trustworthiness. See appendix A, § 1. [7] Alice Chandler was probably hanged at this time. The failure to mention her name is easily explained when we remember that the pamphlet was issued in two parts, as soon as possible after the event. Alice Chandler's case probably did not come up for trial until the two parts of the pamphlet had already been published. See _A Detection of damnable driftes_. [8] Mother Staunton, who had apparently made some pretensions to the practice of magic, was arraigned on several charges. She had been refused her requests by several people, who had thereupon suffered some ills. [9] It is possible that the whole affair started from the whim of a sick child, who, when she saw Elleine Smith, cried, "Away with the witch." [10] A caution here. The pamphlets were hastily compiled and perhaps left out important facts. [11] Her eight-year-old boy was probably illegitimate. [12] Mother Waterhouse's knowledge of Latin, if that is more than the fiction of a Protestant pamphleteer, is rather remarkable. [13] Allowance must be made for a very prejudiced reporter, _i. e._, the judge himself. [14] These details were very probably suggested to her by the judge. [15] Who promised her also "favour." [16] The detestable methods of Justice Darcy come out in the case of a woman from whom he threatened to remove her imps if she did not confess, and by that means trapped her into the incriminating statement, "That shal ye not." [17] William Hooke had heard William Newman "bid the said Ales his wife to beate it away." Comparable with this was the evidence of Margerie Sammon who "sayeth that the saide widow Hunt did tell her that shee had harde the said Joan Pechey, being in her house, verie often to chide and vehemently speaking, ... and sayth that shee went in to see, ... shee founde no bodie but herselfe alone." [18] Reginald Scot, _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 542, says of this trial, "In the meane time let anie man with good consideration peruse that booke published by W. W. and it shall suffice to satisfie him in all that may be required.... See whether the witnesses be not single, of what credit, sex, and age they are; namelie lewd miserable and envious poore people; most of them which speake to anie purpose being old women and children of the age of 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, or 9 yeares." [19] There can be no doubt that Brian Darcy either wrote the account himself or dictated it to "W. W." The frequent use of "me," meaning by that pronoun the judge, indicates that he was responsible. [20] It is some relief in this trial to read the testimony of John Tendering about William Byett. He had a cow "in a strange case." He could not lift it. He put fire under the cow, she got up and "there stood still and fell a byting of stickes larger than any man's finger and after lived and did well." [21] Second wife of Sir Henry Cromwell, who was the grandfather of Oliver. [22] The children were strangely inconsistent. At the first they had fits when Mother Samuel appeared. Later they were troubled unless Mother Samuel were kept in the house, or unless they were taken to her house. [23] This device seems to have been originally suggested by the children to try Mother Samuel's guilt. [24] The clergyman, "Doctor Dorrington," had been one of the leaders in prosecuting them. [25] Harsnett, _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel_ (London, 1599), 92, 97. [26] Among the manuscripts on witchcraft in the Bodleian Library are three such pardons of witches for their witchcraft--one of Jane Mortimer in 1595, one of Rosa Bexwell in 1600, and one of "Alice S.," without date but under Elizabeth. [27] In 1595 he was made warden of the Manchester Collegiate Church. Dee has in our days found a biographer. See _John Dee_ (1527-1608), by Charlotte Fell Smith (London, 1909). [28] For the particular case, see Mary Bateson, ed., _Records of the Borough of Leicester_ (Cambridge, 1899), III. 335; for the general letters patent covering such cases see _id._, II, 365, 366. [29] For this story see Ralph Holinshed, _Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland_ (London, 1577, reprinted 1586-1587 and 1807-1808), ed. of 1807-1808, IV, 891, 893. Faversham was then "Feversham." [30] Justice Anderson, when sentencing a witch to a year's imprisonment, declared that this was the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth witch he had condemned. This is good evidence that the records of many cases have been lost. See Brit. Mus., Sloane MS. 831, f. 38. CHAPTER III. REGINALD SCOT. From the chronicling of witch trials we turn aside in this chapter to follow the career of the first great English opponent of the superstition. We have seen how the attack upon the supposed creatures of the Devil was growing stronger throughout the reign of Elizabeth. We shall see how that attack was checked, at least in some degree, by the resistance of one man. Few men of so quiet and studious life have wrought so effectively as Reginald Scot. He came of a family well known in Kent, but not politically aggressive. As a young man he studied at Hart Hall[1] in Oxford, but left without taking his degree and returned to Scots-Hall, where he settled down to the routine duties of managing his estate. He gave himself over, we are told, to husbandry and gardening and to a solid course of general reading in the obscure authors that had "by the generality been neglected." In 1574 his studies in horticulture resulted in the publication of _A Perfect Platforme of a Hoppe-Garden and necessary instructions for the making and maintaining thereof_. That the book ministered to a practical interest was evidenced by the call for three editions within five years. Whether he now applied himself to the study of that subject which was to be the theme of his _Discoverie_, we do not know. It was a matter which had doubtless arrested his attention even earlier and had enlisted a growing interest upon his part. Not until a decade after his _Hoppe-Garden_, however, did he put forth the epoch-making _Discoverie_. Nor does it seem likely that he had been engaged for a long period on the actual composition. Rather, the style and matter of the book seem to evince traces of hurry in preparation. If this theory be true--and Mr. Brinsley Nicholson, his modern commentator, has adduced excellent reasons for accepting it[2]--there can be but one explanation, the St. Oses affair. That tragedy, occurring within a short distance of his own home, had no doubt so outraged his sense of justice, that the work which he had perhaps long been contemplating he now set himself to complete as soon as possible.[3] Even he who runs may read in Scot's strong sentences that he was not writing for instruction only, to propound a new doctrine, but that he was battling with the single purpose to stop a detestable and wicked practice. Something of a dilettante in real life, he became in his writing a man with an absorbing mission. That mission sprang not indeed from indignation at the St. Oses affair alone. From the days of childhood his experience had been of a kind to encourage skepticism. He had been reared in a county where Elizabeth Barton, the Holy Maid of Kent, first came into prominence, and he had seen the downfall that followed her public exposure.[4] In the year after he brought out his _Hoppe-garden_, his county was again stirred by performances of a supposedly supernatural character. Mildred Norrington, a girl of seventeen,[5] used ventriloquism with such skill that she convinced two clergymen and all her neighbors that she was possessed. In answer to queries, the evil spirit that spoke through Mildred declared that "old Alice of Westwell"[6] had sent him to possess the girl. Alice, the spirit admitted, stood guilty of terrible witchcrafts. The demon's word was taken, and Alice seems to have been "arraigned upon this evidence."[7] But, through the justices' adroit management of the trial, the fraud of the accuser was exposed. She confessed herself a pretender and suffered "condign punishment." This case happened within six miles of Scot's home and opened his eyes to the possibility of humbug. In the very same year two pretenders, Agnes Bridges and Rachel Pinder, were convicted in London. By vomiting pins and straws[8] they had convinced many that they were bewitched, but the trickery was soon found out and they were compelled to do public penance at St. Paul's.[9] We are not told what was the fate of a detestable Mother Baker, who, when consulted by the parents of a sick girl at New Romney in Kent, accused a neighbor woman.[10] She said that the woman had made a waxen heart and pricked it and by this means accomplished her evil purpose. In order to prove her accusation, she had in the mean time concealed the wax figure of a heart in the house of the woman she accused, and then pretended to find it.[11] It is some satisfaction to know that the malicious creature--who, during the history of witchcraft, had many imitators--was caught and compelled to confess. Scot learned, indeed, by observing marvels of this sort[12]--what it is strange that many others did not learn--to look upon displays of the supernatural with a good deal of doubt. How much he had ever believed in them we do not know. It is not unlikely that in common with his generation he had, as a young man, held a somewhat ill-defined opinion about the Devil's use of witches. The belief in that had come down, a comparatively innocuous tradition, from a primitive period. It was a subject that had not been raised in speculation or for that matter in court rooms. But since Scot's early manhood all this had been changed. England had been swept by a tidal wave of suspicion. Hazy theological notions had been tightened into rigid convictions. Convictions had passed into legislative statutes and instructions to judges. The bench, which had at first acted on the new laws with caution and a desire to detect imposture, became infected with the fear and grew more ready to discover witchcraft and to punish it. It is unnecessary to recapitulate the progress of a movement already traced in the previous chapter. Suffice it to say that the Kentish gentleman, familiarized with accounts of imposture, was unwilling to follow the rising current of superstition. Of course this is merely another way of saying that Scot was unconventional in his mental operations and thought the subject out for himself with results variant from those of his own generation. Here was a new abuse in England, here was a wrong that he had seen spring up within his own lifetime and in his own part of England. He made it his mission as far as possible to right the wrong. "For so much," he says, "as the mightie helpe themselves together, and the poore widowes crie, though it reach to heaven, is scarse heard here upon earth: I thought good (according to my poore abilitie) to make intercession, that some part of common rigor, and some points of hastie judgement may be advised upon."[13] It was indeed a splendid mission and he was singularly well equipped for it. He had the qualifications--scholarly training and the power of scientific observation, a background of broad theological and scriptural information, a familiarity with legal learning and practice, as well as a command of vigorous and incisive language--which were certain to make his work effective towards its object. That he was a scholar is true in more senses than one. In his use of deduction from classical writers he was something of a scholastic, in his willingness to venture into new fields of thought he was a product of the Renaissance, in his thorough use of research he reminds us of a modern investigator. He gives in his book a bibliography of the works consulted by him and one counts over two hundred Latin and thirty English titles. His reading had covered the whole field of superstition. To Cornelius Agrippa and to Wierus (Johann Weyer),[14] who had attacked the tyranny of superstition upon the Continent, he owed an especial debt. He had not, however, borrowed enough from them to impair in any serious way the value of his own original contribution. In respect to law, Scot was less a student than a man of experience. The _Discoverie_, however, bristled with references which indicated a legal way of thinking. He was almost certainly a man who had used the law. Brinsley Nicholson believes that he had been a justice of the peace. In any case he had a lawyer's sense of the value of evidence and a lawyer's way of putting his case. No less practical was his knowledge of theology and scripture. Here he had to meet the baffling problems of the Witch of Endor. The story of the witch who had called up before the frightened King Saul the spirit of the dead Samuel and made him speak, stood as a lion in the path of all opponents of witch persecution. When Scot dared to explain this Old Testament tale as an instance of ventriloquism, and to compare it to the celebrated case of Mildred Norrington, he showed a boldness in interpretation of the Bible far in advance of his contemporaries. His anticipation of present-day points of view cropped out perhaps more in his scientific spirit than in any other way. For years before he put pen to paper he had been conducting investigations into alleged cases of conjuring and witchcraft, attending trials,[15] and questioning clergymen and magistrates. For such observation he was most favorably situated and he used his position in his community to further his knowledge. A man almost impertinently curious was this sixteenth-century student. When he learned of a conjurer whose sentence of death had been remitted by the queen and who professed penitence for his crimes, he opened a correspondence and obtained from the man the clear statement that his conjuries were all impostures. The prisoner referred him to "a booke written in the old Saxon toong by one Sir John Malborne, a divine of Oxenford, three hundred yeares past," in which all these trickeries are cleared up. Scot put forth his best efforts to procure the work from the parson to whom it had been entrusted, but without success.[16] In another case he attended the assizes at Rochester, where a woman was on trial. One of her accusers was the vicar of the parish, who made several charges, not the least of which was that he could not enunciate clearly in church owing to enchantment. This explanation Scot carried to her and she was able to give him an explanation much less creditable to the clergyman of the ailment, an explanation which Scot found confirmed by an enquiry among the neighbors. To quiet such rumors in the community about the nature of the illness the vicar had to procure from London a medical certificate that it was a lung trouble.[17] Can we wonder that a student at such pains to discover the fact as to a wrong done should have used barbed words in the portrayal of injustice? Strong convictions spurred on his pen, already taught to shape vigorous and incisive sentences. Not a stylist, as measured by the highest Elizabethan standards of charm and mellifluence, he possessed a clearness and directness which win the modern reader. By his methods of analysis he displayed a quality of mind akin to and probably influenced by that of Calvin, while his intellectual attitude showed the stimulus of the Reformation. He was indeed in his own restricted field a reformer. He was not only the protagonist of a new cause, but a pioneer who had to cut through the underbrush of opinion a pathway for speculation to follow. So far as England was concerned, Scot found no philosophy of the subject, no systematic defences or assaults upon the loosely constructed theory of demonic agency. It was for him to state in definite terms the beliefs he was seeking to overthrow. The Roman church knew fairly well by this time what it meant by witchcraft, but English theologians and philosophers would hardly have found common ground on any one tenet about the matter.[18] Without exaggeration it may be asserted that Scot by his assault all along the front forced the enemy's advance and in some sense dictated his line of battle. The assault was directed indeed against the centre of the opposing entrenchments, the belief in the continuance of miracles. Scot declared that with Christ and his apostles the age of miracles had passed, an opinion which he supported by the authority of Calvin and of St. Augustine. What was counted the supernatural assumed two forms--the phenomena exhibited by those whom he classed under the wide term of "couseners," and the phenomena said to be exhibited by the "poor doting women" known as witches. The tricks and deceits of the "couseners" he was at great pains to explain. Not less than one-third of his work is given up to setting forth the methods of conjurers, card tricks, sleight-of-hand performances, illusions of magic, materializations of spirits, and the wonders of alchemy and astrology. In the range of his information about these subjects, the discoverer was encyclopedic. No current form of dabbling with the supernatural was left unexposed. In his attack upon the phenomena of witchcraft he had a different problem. He had to deal with phenomena the so-called facts of which were not susceptible of any material explanation. The theory of a Devil who had intimate relations with human beings, who controlled them and sent them out upon maleficent errands, was in its essence a theological conception and could not be absolutely disproved by scientific observation. It was necessary instead to attack the idea on its _a priori_ grounds. This attack Scot attempted to base on the nature of spirits. Spirits and bodies, he urged, are antithetical and inconvertible, nor can any one save God give spirit a bodily form. The Devil, a something beyond our comprehension, cannot change spirit into body, nor can he himself assume a bodily form, nor has he any power save that granted him by God for vengeance. This being true, the whole belief in the Devil's intercourse with witches is undermined. Such, very briefly, were the philosophic bases of Scot's skepticism. Yet the more cogent parts of his work were those in which he denied the validity of any evidence so far offered for the existence of witches. What is witchcraft? he asked; and his answer is worth quoting. "Witchcraft is in truth a cousening art, wherin the name of God is abused, prophaned and blasphemed, and his power attributed to a vile creature. In estimation of the vulgar people, it is a supernaturall worke, contrived betweene a corporall old woman, and a spirituall divell. The maner thereof is so secret, mysticall, and strange, that to this daie there hath never beene any credible witnes thereof."[19] The want of credible evidence was indeed a point upon which Scot continually insisted with great force. He pictured vividly the course which a witchcraft case often ran: "One sort of such as are said to bee witches are women which be commonly old, lame, bleare-eied, pale, fowle, and full of wrinkles; ... they are leane and deformed, shewing melancholie in their faces; ... they are doting, scolds, mad, divelish.... These miserable wretches are so odious unto all their neighbors, and so feared, as few dare offend them, or denie them anie thing they aske: whereby they take upon them, yea, and sometimes thinke, that they can doo such things as are beyond the abilitie of humane nature. These go from house to house, and from doore to doore for a pot of milke, yest, drinke, pottage, or some such releefe; without the which they could hardlie live.... It falleth out many times, that neither their necessities, nor their expectation is answered.... In tract of time the witch waxeth odious and tedious to hir neighbors; ... she cursseth one, and sometimes another; and that from the maister of the house, his wife, children, cattell, etc. to the little pig that lieth in the stie.... Doubtlesse (at length) some of hir neighbours die, or fall sicke."[20] Then they suspect her, says Scot, and grow convinced that she is the author of their mishaps. "The witch, ... seeing things sometimes come to passe according to hir wishes, ... being called before a Justice, ... confesseth that she hath brought such things to passe. Wherein, not onelie she, but the accuser, and also the Justice are fowlie deceived and abused."[21] Such indeed was the epitome of many cases. The process from beginning to end was never better described; the ease with which confessions were dragged from weak-spirited women was never pictured more truly. With quite as keen insight he displayed the motives that animated witnesses and described the prejudices and fears that worked on jurors and judges. It was, indeed, upon these factors that he rested the weight of his argument for the negative.[22] The affirmative opinion was grounded, he believed, upon the ignorance of the common people, "assotted and bewitched" by the jesting or serious words of poets, by the inventions of "lowd liers and couseners," and by "tales they have heard from old doting women, or from their mother's maids, and with whatsoever the grandfoole their ghostlie father or anie other morrow masse preest had informed them."[23] By the same method by which he opposed the belief in witchcraft he opposed the belief in possession by an evil spirit. The known cases, when examined, proved frauds. The instances in the New Testament he seemed inclined to explain by the assumption that possession merely meant disease.[24] That Scot should maintain an absolute negative in the face of all strange phenomena would have been too much to expect. He seems to have believed, though not without some difficulty, that stones had in them "certaine proper vertues which are given them of a speciall influence of the planets." The unicorn's horn, he thought, had certain curative properties. And he had heard "by credible report" and the affirmation of "many grave authors" that "the wound of a man murthered reneweth bleeding at the presence of a deere freend, or of a mortall enimie."[25] His credulity in these points may be disappointing to the reader who hopes to find in Scot a scientific rationalist. That, of course, he was not; and his leaning towards superstition on these points makes one ask, What did he really believe about witchcraft? When all the fraud and false testimony and self-deception were excluded, what about the remaining cases of witchcraft? Scot was very careful never to deny _in toto_ the existence of witches. That would have been to deny the Bible. What were these witches, then? Doubtless he would have answered that he had already classified them under two heads: they were either "couseners" or "poor doting women"--and by "couseners" he seems to have meant those who used trickery and fraud. In other words, Scot distinctly implied that there were no real witches--with powers given them by the Devil. Would he have stood by this when pushed into a corner? It is just possible that he would have done so, that he understood his own implications, but hardly dared to utter a straighforward denial of the reality of witchcraft. It is more likely that he had not altogether thought himself out. The immediate impression of Scot's book we know little about. Such contemporary comment as we have is neutral.[26] That his book was read painstakingly by every later writer on the subject, that it shortly became the great support of one party in the controversy, that King James deemed it worth while to write an answer, and that on his accession to the throne he almost certainly ordered the book to be burned by the common hangman,[27] these are better evidence than absolutely contemporary notices to show that the _Discoverie_ exerted an influence. We cannot better suggest how radical Scot's position must have seemed to his own time than by showing the point of view of another opponent of witchcraft, George Gifford, a non-conformist clergyman.[28] He had read the _Discoverie_ and probably felt that the theological aspect of the subject had been neglected. Moreover it had probably been his fortune, as Scot's, to attend the St. Oses trials. Three years after Scot's book he brought out _A Discourse of the Subtill Practises of Devilles by Witches_, and followed it six years later by _A Dialogue concerning Witches_,[29] a book in which he expounded his opinions in somewhat more popular fashion. Like Scot, he wrote to end, so far as possible, the punishment of innocent women;[30] like Scot, he believed that most of the evidence presented against them was worthless.[31] But on other points he was far less radical. There were witches. He found them in the Bible.[32] To be sure they were nothing more than pawns for the Devil. He uses them "onely for a colour,"[33] that is, puts them forward to cover his own dealings, and then he deludes them and makes them "beleeve things which are nothing so."[34] In consequence they frequently at their executions falsely accuse others of dreadful witchcrafts. It is all the work of the Devil. But he himself cannot do anything except through the power of God,[35] who, sometimes for vengeance upon His enemies and sometimes to try His own people,[36] permits the Evil One to do harm.[37] Gifford of course never made the impression that Scot had made.[38] But he represented the more conservative position and was the first in a long line of writers who deprecated persecution while they accepted the current view as to witchcraft; and therefore he furnishes a standard by which to measure Scot, who had nothing of the conservative about him. Scot had many readers and exerted a strong influence even upon those who disagreed with him; but he had few or none to follow in his steps. It was not until nearly a century later that there came upon the scene a man who dared to speak as Scot had spoken. Few men have been so far ahead of their time. [1] Where George Gifford, who wrote a little later on the subject, was also a student. [2] _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, Nicholson ed., introd., xxxv. [3] That at least a part of it was written in 1583 appears from his own words, where he speaks of the treatise of Leonardus Vairus on fascination as "now this present yeare 1583 newlie published," _ibid._, 124. [4] Elizabeth Barton (1506-1534) suffered from a nervous derangement which developed into a religious mania. She was taught by some monks, and then professed to be in communion with the Virgin Mary and performed miracles at stated times. She denounced Henry VIII's divorce and gained wide recognition as a champion of the queen and the Catholic church. She was granted interviews by Archbishop Warham, by Thomas More, and by Wolsey. She was finally induced by Cranmer to make confession, was compelled publicly to repeat her confession in various places, and was then executed; see _Dict. Nat. Biog._ [5] Illegitimate child. [6] That is, very probably, Alice Norrington, the mother of Mildred. [7] _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 130. [8] _Ibid._, 132. [9] See _The discloysing of a late counterfeyted possession by the devyl in two maydens within the Citie of London_; see also Holinshed, _Chronicles_, ed. of 1807-1808, IV, 325, and John Stow, _Annals ... of England_ (London, 1615), 678. [10] _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 258, 259. [11] The spot she chose for concealing the token of guilt had been previously searched. [12] For another see _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 132-133. [13] In his prefatory epistle "to the Readers." [14] An incidental reference to Weyer in "W. W.'s" account of the _Witches taken at St. Oses_ is interesting: "... whom a learned Phisitian is not ashamed to avouche innocent, and the Judges that denounce sentence of death against them no better than hangmen." [15] _E. g., Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 5. [16] _Ibid._, 466-469. [17] _Ibid._, 5-6. [18] _Ibid._, 15: "Howbeit you shall understand that few or none are throughlie persuaded, resolved, or satisfied, that witches can indeed accomplish all these impossibilities; but some one is bewitched in one point, and some is coosened in another, untill in fine, all these impossibilities, and manie mo, are by severall persons affirmed to be true." [19] _Discoverie_, 472. [20] _Ibid._, 7-8. [21] _Ibid._, 8. [22] It was one of the points made by "witchmongers" that the existence of laws against witches proved there were witches. This argument was used by Sir Matthew Hale as late as 1664. Scot says on that point: "Yet I confesse, the customes and lawes almost of all nations doo declare, that all these miraculous works ... were attributed to the power of witches. The which lawes, with the executions and judicials thereupon, and the witches confessions, have beguiled almost the whole world." _Ibid._, 220. [23] _Discoverie_, 471, 472. [24] _Ibid._, 512. [25] _Ibid._, 303. [26] Thomas Nash in his _Four Letters Confuted_ (London, 1593) refers to it in a non-committal way as a work treating of "the diverse natures and properties of Divels and Spirits." Gabriel Harvey's _Pierces Supererogation_ (London, 1593), has the following mention of it: "Scottes discoovery of Witchcraft dismasketh sundry egregious impostures, and in certaine principall chapters, and special passages, hitteth the nayle on the head with a witnesse; howsoever I could have wished he had either dealt somewhat more curteously with Monsieur Bodine, or confuted him somewhat more effectually." Professor Burr informs me that there is in the British Museum (Harleian MSS. 2302) an incomplete and unpublished reply to Scot. Its handwriting shows it contemporary or nearly so. It is a series of "Reasons" why witches should be believed in--the MS. in its present state beginning with the "5th Reason" and breaking off in the midst of the 108th. [27] See Nicholson's opinion on this, pp. xxxvii-xxxix of his introduction to Scot's book. [28] George Gifford was a Church of England clergyman whose Puritan sympathies at length compelled him to identify himself publicly with the non-conformist movement in 1584. For two years previous to that time he had held the living of Maldon in Essex. [29] A second edition of this book appeared in 1603. It was reprinted for the Percy Society in 1842. [30] _Dialogue_, ed. of 1603, prefatory letter and L-M 2 verso. [31] _Discourse_, D 3 verso, G 4 verso; _Dialogue_, ed. of 1603, K 2-K 2 verso, L-L 2. See also _ibid._, K 4-K 4 verso: "As not long since a rugged water spaniell having a chaine, came to a mans doore that had a saut bitch, and some espied him in the darke, and said it was a thing as bigge as a colt, and had eyes as great as saucers. Hereupon some came to charge to him, and did charge him in the name of the Father, the Sonne, and the Holy Ghost, to tell what he was. The dogge at the last told them, for he spake in his language, and said, bowgh, and thereby they did know what he was." [32] _Discourse_, in the prefatory letter. [33] _Ibid._, F 4 verso, F 5. [34] _Dialogue_, ed of 1603, K 2 verso. [35] _Ibid._, D 3 verso; _Discourse_, G 3 verso, H 3 verso. [36] _Ibid._, D 2 verso. [37] Gifford grew very forceful when he described the progress of a case against a witch: "Some woman doth fal out bitterly with her neighbour: there followeth some great hurt.... There is a suspicion conceived. Within fewe yeares after shee is in some jarre with an other. Hee is also plagued. This is noted of all. Great fame is spread of the matter. Mother W. is a witch.... Wel, mother W. doth begin to bee very odious and terrible unto many, her neighbours dare say nothing but yet in their heartes they wish shee were hanged. Shortly after an other falleth sicke and doth pine.... The neighbors come to visit him. Well neighbour, sayth one, do ye not suspect some naughty dealing: did yee never anger mother W? truly neighbour (sayth he) I have not liked the woman a long tyme. I can not tell how I should displease her, unlesse it were this other day, my wife prayed her, and so did I, that shee would keepe her hennes out of my garden. Wee spake her as fayre as wee could for our lives. I thinke verely she hath bewitched me. Every body sayth now that mother W. is a witch in deede.... It is out of all doubt: for there were which saw a weasil runne from her housward into his yard even a little before hee fell sicke. The sicke man dieth, and taketh it upon his death that he is bewitched: then is mother W. apprehended, and sent to prison, shee is arrayned and condemned, and being at the gallows, taketh it uppon her death that shee is not gylty." _Discourse_, G 4-G 4 verso. And so, Gifford explains, the Devil is pleased, for he has put innocent people into danger, he has caused witnesses to forswear themselves and jurymen to render false verdicts. [38] But his views were warmly seconded by Henry Holland, who in 1590 issued at Cambridge _A Treatise against Witchcraft_. Holland, however, was chiefly interested in warning "Masters and Fathers of families that they may learn the best meanes to purge their houses of all unclean spirits." It goes without saying that he found himself at variance with Scot, who, he declared, reduced witchcraft to a "cozening or poisoning art." In the Scriptures he found the evidence that witches have a real "confederacie with Satan himself," but he was frank to admit that the proof of bargains of the sort in his own time could not be given. CHAPTER IV. THE EXORCISTS. In the narrative of English witchcraft the story of the exorcists is a side-issue. Yet their performances were so closely connected with the operations of the Devil and of his agents that they cannot be left out of account in any adequate statement of the subject. And it is impossible to understand the strength and weakness of the superstition without a comprehension of the rôle that the would-be agents for expelling evil spirits played. That the reign which had seen pass in procession the bands of conjurers and witches should close with the exorcists was to be expected. It was their part to complete the cycle of superstition. If miracles of magic were possible, if conjurers could use a supernatural power of some sort to assist them in performing wonders, there was nothing very remarkable about creatures who wrought harm to their fellows through the agency of evil spirits. And if witches could send evil spirits to do harm, it followed that those spirits could be expelled or exorcised by divine assistance. If by prayer to the Devil demons could be commanded to enter human beings, they could be driven out by prayer to God. The processes of reasoning were perfectly clear; and they were easily accepted because they found adequate confirmation in the New Testament. The gospels were full of narratives of men possessed with evil spirits who had been freed by the invocation of God. Of these stories no doubt the most quoted and the one most effective in moulding opinion was the account of the dispossessed devils who had entered into a herd of swine and plunged over a steep place into the sea. It must not be supposed that exorcism was a result of belief in witchcraft. It was as old as the Christian church. It was still made use of by the Roman church and, indeed, by certain Protestant groups. And just at this time the Roman church found it a most important instrument in the struggle against the reformed religions. In England Romanism was waging a losing war, and had need of all the miracles that it could claim in order to reestablish its waning credit. The hunted priests who were being driven out by Whitgift were not unwilling to resort to a practice which they hoped would regain for them the allegiance of the common people. During the years 1585-1586 they had conducted what they considered marvellous works of exorcism in Catholic households of Buckinghamshire and Middlesex.[1] Great efforts had been made to keep news of these séances from reaching the ears of the government, but accounts of them had gained wide circulation and came to the privy council. That body was of course stimulated to greater activity against the Catholics.[2] As a phase of a suppressed form of religion the matter might never have assumed any significance. Had not a third-rate Puritan clergyman, John Darrel, almost by accident hit upon the use of exorcism, the story of its use would be hardly worth telling.[3] When this young minister was not more than twenty, but already, as he says, reckoned "a man of hope," he was asked to cure a seventeen-year-old girl at Mansfield in Nottingham, Katherine Wright.[4] Her disease called for simple medical treatment. That was not Darrel's plan of operation. She had an evil spirit, he declared. From four o'clock in the morning until noon he prayed over her spirit. He either set going of his own initiative the opinion that possessed persons could point out witches, or he quickly availed himself of such a belief already existing. The evil spirit, he declared, could recognize and even name the witch that had sent it as well as the witch's confederates. All of this was no doubt suggested to the possessed girl and she was soon induced to name the witch that troubled her. This was Margaret Roper, a woman with whom she was upon bad terms. Margaret Roper was at once taken into custody by the constable. She happened to be brought before a justice of the peace possessing more than usual discrimination. He not only discharged her,[5] but threatened John Darrel with arrest.[6] This was in 1586. Darrel disappeared from view for ten years or so, when he turned up at Burton-upon-Trent, not very far from the scene of his first operations. Here he volunteered to cure Thomas Darling. The story is a curious one and too long for repetition. Some facts must, however, be presented in order to bring the story up to the point at which Darrel intervened. Thomas Darling, a young Derbyshire boy, had become ill after returning from a hunt. He was afflicted with innumerable fits, in which he saw green angels and a green cat. His aunt very properly consulted a physician, who at the second consultation thought it possible that the child was bewitched. The aunt failed to credit the diagnosis. The boy's fits continued and soon took on a religious character. Between seizures he conversed with godly people. They soon discovered that the reading of the Scriptures brought on attacks. This looked very like the Devil's work. The suggestion of the physician was more seriously regarded. Meanwhile the boy had overheard the discussion of witchcraft and proceeded to relate a story. He had met, he said, a "little old woman" in a "gray gown with a black fringe about the cape, a broad thrimmed hat, and three warts on her face."[7] Very accidentally, as he claimed, he offended her. She angrily said a rhyming charm that ended with the words, "I wil goe to heaven, and thou shalt goe to hell," and stooped to the ground. The story produced a sensation. Those who heard it declared at once that the woman must have been Elizabeth Wright, or her daughter Alse Gooderidge, women long suspected of witchcraft. Alse was fetched to the boy. She said she had never seen him, but her presence increased the violence of his fits. Mother and daughter were carried before two justices of the peace, who examined them together with Alse's husband and daughter. The women were searched for special marks in the usual revolting manner with the usual outcome, but only Alse herself was sent to gaol.[8] The boy grew no better. It was discovered that the reading of certain verses in the first chapter of John invariably set him off.[9] The justices of the peace put Alse through several examinations, but with little result. Two good witches were consulted, but refused to help unless the family of the bewitched came to see them. Meantime a cunning man appeared who promised to prove Alse a witch. In the presence of "manie worshipfull personages" "he put a paire of new shooes on her feete, setting her close to the fire till the shooes being extreame hot might constrayne her through increase of the paine to confesse." "This," says the writer, "was his ridiculous practice." The woman "being throghly heated desired a release" and offered to confess, but, as soon as her feet were cooled, refused. No doubt the justices of the peace would have repudiated the statement that the illegal process of torture was used. The methods of the cunning man were really nothing else. The woman was harried day and night by neighbors to bring her to confess.[10] At length she gave way and, in a series of reluctant confessions, told a crude story of her wrong-doings that bore some slight resemblance to the boy's tale, and involved the use of a spirit in the form of a dog. Now it was that John Darrel came upon the ground eager to make a name for himself. Darling had been ill for three months and was not improving. Even yet some of the boy's relatives and friends doubted if he were possessed. Not so Darrel. He at once undertook to pray and fast for the boy. According to his own account his efforts were singularly blessed. At all events the boy gradually improved and Darrel claimed the credit. As for Alse Gooderidge, she was tried at the assizes, convicted by the jury, and sentenced by Lord Chief-Justice Anderson to imprisonment. She died soon after.[11] This affair undoubtedly widened Darrel's reputation. Not long after, a notable case of possession in Lancashire afforded him a new opportunity to attract notice. The case of Nicholas Starchie's children provoked so much comment at the time that it is perhaps worth while to go back and bring the narrative up to the point where Darrel entered.[12] Two of Starchie's children had one day been taken ill most mysteriously, the girl "with a dumpish and heavie countenance, and with a certaine fearefull starting and pulling together of her body." The boy was "compelled to shout" on the way to school. Both grew steadily worse[13] and the father consulted Edmund Hartley, a noted conjurer of his time. Hartley quieted the children by the use of charms. When he realized that his services would be indispensable to the father he made a pretence of leaving and so forced a promise from Starchie to pay him 40 shillings a year. This ruse was so successful that he raised his demands. He asked for a house and lot, but was refused. The children fell ill again. The perplexed parent now went to a physician of Manchester. But the physician "sawe no signe of sicknes." Dr. Dee, the famous astrologer and friend of Elizabeth, was summoned. He advised the help of "godlie preachers."[14] Meantime the situation in the afflicted family took a more serious turn. Besides Mr. Starchie's children, three young wards of his, a servant, and a visitor, were all taken with the mysterious illness. The modern reader might suspect that some contagious disease had gripped the family, but the irregular and intermittent character of the disease precludes that hypothesis. Darrel in his own pamphlet on the matter declares that when the parents on one occasion went to a play the children were quiet, but that when they were engaged in godly exercise they were tormented, a statement that raises a suspicion that the disease, like that of the Throckmorton children, was largely imaginary. But the divines were at work. They had questioned the conjurer, and had found that he fumbled "verie ill favouredlie" in the repetition of the Lord's Prayer. He was haled before a justice of the peace, who began gathering evidence against him and turned him over to the assizes. There it came out that he had been wont to kiss the Starchie children, and had even attempted, although without success, to kiss a maid servant. In this way he had presumably communicated the evil spirit--a new notion. The court could find no law, however, upon which to hang him. He had bewitched the children, but he had bewitched none of them to death, and therefore had not incurred the death penalty. But the father leaped into the gap. He remembered that he had seen the conjurer draw a magic circle and divide it into four parts and that he had bidden the witness step into the quarters one after another. Making such circles was definitely mentioned in the law as felony. Hartley denied the charge, but to no purpose. He was convicted of felony[15]--so far as we can judge, on this unsupported afterthought of a single witness--and was hanged. Sympathy, however, would be inappropriate. In the whole history of witchcraft there were few victims who came so near to deserving their fate. This was the story up to the time of Darrel's arrival. With Darrel came his assistant, George More, pastor of a church in Derbyshire. The two at once recognized the supernatural character of the case they were to treat and began religious services for the stricken family. It was to no effect. "All or most of them joined together in a strange and supernatural loud whupping that the house and grounde did sounde therwith again." But the exorcists were not by any means disheartened. On the following day, in company with another minister, they renewed the services and were able to expel six of the seven spirits. On the third day they stormed and took the last citadel of Satan. Unhappily the capture was not permanent. Darrel tells us himself that the woman later became a Papist[16] and the evil spirit returned. The exorcist now turned his skill upon a young apprenticed musician of Nottingham. According to Darrel's story of the affair,[17] William Somers had nine years before met an old woman who had threatened him. Again, more than a year before Darrel came to Nottingham, Somers had had two encounters with a strange woman "at a deep cole-pit, hard by the way-side." Soon afterwards he "did use such strang and idle kinde of gestures in laughing, dancing and such like lighte behaviour, that he was suspected to be madd." He began to suffer from bodily distortions and to evince other signs of possession which created no little excitement in Nottingham. Darrel had been sent for by this time. He came at once and with his usual precipitancy pronounced the case one of possession. Somers, he said, was suffering for the sins of Nottingham.[18] It was time that something should be done. Prayer and fasting were instituted. For three days the youth was preached to and prayed over, while the people of Nottingham, or some of them at least, joined in the fast. On the third day came what was deemed a most remarkable exhibition. The preacher named slowly, one after another, fourteen signs of possession. As he named them Somers illustrated in turn each form of possession.[19] Here was confirmatory evidence of a high order. The exorcist had outdone himself. He now held out promises of deliverance for the subject. For a quarter of an hour the boy lay as if dead, and then rose up quite well. Darrel now took up again the witchfinder's rôle he had once before assumed. Somers was encouraged to name the contrivers of his bewitchment. Through him, Darrel is said to have boasted, they would expose all the witches in England.[20] They made a most excellent start at it. Thirteen women were accused by the boy,[21] who would fall into fits at the sight of a witch, and a general invitation was extended to prefer charges. But the community was becoming a bit incredulous and failed to respond. All but two of the accused women were released. The witch-discoverer, who in the meantime had been chosen preacher at St. Mary's in Nottingham, made two serious mistakes. He allowed accusations to be preferred against Alice Freeman, sister of an alderman,[22] and he let Somers be taken out of his hands. By the contrivance of some citizens who doubted the possession, Somers was placed in the house of correction, on a trumped-up charge that he had bewitched a Mr. Sterland to death.[23] Removed from the clergyman's influence, he made confession that his possessions were pretended.[24] Darrel, he declared, had taught him how to pretend. The matter had now gained wide notoriety and was taken up by the Anglican church. The archdeacon of Derby reported the affair to his superiors, and the Archbishop of York appointed a commission to examine into the case.[25] Whether from alarm or because he had anew come under Darrel's influence, Somers refused to confess before the commission and again acted out his fits with such success that the commission seems to have been convinced of the reality of his possession.[26] This was a notable victory for the exorcist. But Chief-Justice Anderson of the court of common pleas was now commencing the assizes at Nottingham and was sitting in judgment on the case of Alice Freeman. Anderson was a man of intense convictions. He believed in the reality of witchcraft and had earlier sent at least one witch to the gallows[27] and one to prison.[28] But he was a man who hated Puritanism with all his heart, and would at once have suspected Puritan exorcism. Whether because the arch-instigator against Alice Freeman was a Puritan, or because the evidence adduced against her was flimsy, or because Somers, again summoned to court, acknowledged his fraud,[29] or for all these reasons, Anderson not only dismissed the case,[30] but he wrote a letter about it to the Archbishop of Canterbury. Archbishop Whitgift called Darrel and More before the court of high commission, where the Bishop of London, two of the Lord Chief-Justices, the master of requests, and other eminent officials heard the case. It seems fairly certain that Bancroft, the Bishop of London, really took control of this examination and that he acted quite as much the part of a prosecutor as that of a judge. One of Darrel's friends complained bitterly that the exorcist was not allowed to make "his particular defences" but "was still from time to time cut off by the Lord Bishop of London."[31] No doubt the bishop may have been somewhat arbitrary. It was his privilege under the procedure of the high commission court, and he was dealing with one whom he deemed a very evident impostor. In fine, a verdict was rendered against the two clergymen. They were deposed from the ministry and put in close prison.[32] So great was the stir they had caused that in 1599 Samuel Harsnett, chaplain to the Bishop of London, published _A Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel_, a careful résumé of the entire case, with a complete exposure of Darrel's trickery. In this account the testimony of Somers was given as to the origin of his possession. He testified before the ecclesiastical court that he had known Darrel several years before they had met at Nottingham. At their first meeting he promised, declared Somers, "to tell me some thinges, wherein if I would be ruled by him, I should not be driven to goe so barely as I did." Darrel related to Somers the story of Katherine Wright and her possession, and remarked, "If thou wilt sweare unto me to keepe my counsell, I will teache thee to doe all those trickes which Katherine Wright did, and many others that are more straunge." He then illustrated some of the tricks for the benefit of his pupil and gave him a written paper of directions. From that time on there were meetings between the two at various places. The pupil, however, was not altogether successful with his fits and was once turned out of service as a pretender. He was then apprenticed to the musician already mentioned, and again met Darrel, who urged him to go and see Thomas Darling of Burton, "because," says Somers, "that seeing him in his fittes, I might the better learn to do them myselfe." Somers met Darrel again and went through with a series of tricks of possession. It was after all these meetings and practice that Somers began his career as a possessed person in Nottingham and was prayed over by Mr. Darrel. Such at least was his story as told to the ecclesiastical commission. It would be hazardous to say that the narrative was all true. Certainly it was accepted by Harsnett, who may be called the official reporter of the proceedings at Darrel's trial, as substantially true.[33] The publication of the _Discovery_ by Harsnett proved indeed to be only the beginning of a pamphlet controversy which Darrel and his supporters were but too willing to take up.[34] Harsnett himself after his first onslaught did not re-enter the contest. The semi-official character of his writing rendered it unnecessary to refute the statements of a convicted man. At any rate, he was soon occupied with another production of similar aim. In 1602 Bishop Bancroft was busily collecting the materials, in the form of sworn statements, for the exposure of Catholic pretenders. He turned the material over to his chaplain. Whether the several examinations of Roman exorcists and their subjects were the result of a new interest in exposing exorcism on the part of the powers which had sent Darrel to prison, or whether they were merely a phase of increased vigilance against the activity of the Roman priests, we cannot be sure. The first conclusion does not seem improbable. Be that as it may, the court of high commission got hold of evidence enough to justify the privy council in authorizing a full publication of the testimony.[35] Harsnett was deputed to write the account of the Catholic exorcists which was brought out in 1603 under the title of _A Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures_. We have not the historical materials with which to verify the claims made in the book. On the face of it the case against the Roman priests looks bad. A mass of examinations was printed which seem to show that the Jesuit Weston and his confreres in England had been guilty of a great deal of jugglery and pretence. The Jesuits, however, were wiser in their generation than the Puritans and had not made charges of witchcraft. For that reason their performances may be passed over. Neither the pretences of the Catholics nor the refutation of them are very important for our purposes. The exposure of John Darrel was of significance, because it involved the guilt or innocence of the women he accused as witches, as well as because the ecclesiastical authorities took action against him and thereby levelled a blow directly at exorcism and possession[36] and indirectly at loose charges of witchcraft. Harsnett's books were the outcome of this affair and the ensuing exposures of the Catholics, and they were more significant than anything that had gone before. The Church of England had not committed itself very definitely on witchcraft, but its spokesman in the attack upon the Catholic pretenders took no uncertain ground. He was skeptical not only about exorcism but about witchcraft as well. It is refreshing and inspiriting to read his hard-flung and pungent words. "Out of these," he wrote, "is shaped us the true _Idea_ of a Witch, an old weather-beaten Croane, having her chinne and her knees meeting for age, walking like a bow leaning on a shaft, hollow-eyed, untoothed, furrowed on her face, having her lips trembling with the palsie, going mumbling in the streetes, one that hath forgotten her _pater noster_, and hath yet a shrewd tongue in her head, to call a drab, a drab. If shee have learned of an olde wife in a chimnies end: _Pax, max, fax_, for a spel: or can say _Sir John of Grantams_ curse, for the Millers Eeles, that were stolne: ... Why then ho, beware, looke about you my neighbours; if any of you have a sheepe sicke of the giddies, or an hogge of the mumps, or an horse of the staggers, or a knavish boy of the schoole, or an idle girle of the wheele, or a young drab of the sullens, and hath not fat enough for her porredge, nor her father and mother butter enough for their bread; and she have a little helpe of the _Mother_, _Epilepsie_, or _Cramp_, ... and then with-all old mother _Nobs_ hath called her by chaunce 'idle young huswife,' or bid the devil scratch her, then no doubt but mother _Nobs_ is the witch.... _Horace_ the Heathen spied long agoe, that a Witch, a Wizard, and a Conjurer were but bul-beggers to scare fooles.... And _Geoffry Chaucer_, who had his two eyes, wit, and learning in his head, spying that all these brainlesse imaginations of witchings, possessings, house-hanting, and the rest, were the forgeries, cosenages, Imposturs, and legerdemaine of craftie priests, ... writes in good plaine terms."[37] It meant a good deal that Harsnett took such a stand. Scot had been a voice crying in the wilderness. Harsnett was supported by the powers in church and state. He was, as has been seen, the chaplain of Bishop Bancroft,[38] now--from 1604--to become Archbishop of Canterbury. He was himself to become eminent in English history as master of Pembroke Hall (Cambridge), vice-chancellor of Cambridge University, Bishop of Chichester, Bishop of Norwich, and Archbishop of York.[39] Whatever support he had at the time--and it is very clear that he had the backing of the English church on the question of exorcism--his later position and influence must have given great weight not only to his views on exorcism but to his skepticism about witchcraft.[40] His opinions on the subject, so far as can be judged by his few direct statements and by implications, were quite as radical as those of his predecessor.[41] As a matter of fact he was a man who read widely[42] and had pondered deeply on the superstition, but his thought had been colored by Scot.[43] His assault, however, was less direct and studied than that of his master. Scot was a man of uncommonly serious temperament, a plain, blunt-spoken, church-going Englishman who covered the whole ground of superstition without turning one phrase less serious than another. His pupil, if so Harsnett may be called, wrote earnestly, even aggressively, but with a sarcastic and bitter humor that entertained the reader and was much less likely to convince. The curl never left his lips. If at times a smile appeared, it was but an accented sneer. A writer with a feeling indeed for the delicate effects of word combination, if his humor had been less chilled by hate, if his wit had been of a lighter and more playful vein, he might have laughed superstition out of England. When he described the dreadful power of holy water and frankincense and the book of exorcisms "to scald, broyle and sizzle the devil," or "the dreadful power of the crosse and sacrament of the altar to torment the devill and to make him roare," or "the astonishable power of nicknames, reliques and asses ears,"[44] he revealed a faculty of fun-making just short of effective humor. It would not be fair to leave Harsnett without a word on his place as a writer. In point of literary distinction his prose style maintains a high level. In the use of forceful epithet and vivid phrase he is excelled by no Elizabethan prose writer. Because his writings deal so largely with dry-as-dust reports of examinations, they have never attained to that position in English literature which parts of them merit.[45] Harsnett's book was the last chapter in the story of Elizabethan witchcraft and exorcism. It is hardly too much to say that it was the first chapter in the literary exploitation of witchcraft. Out of the _Declaration_ Shakespeare and Ben Jonson mined those ores which when fused and refined by imagination and fancy were shaped into the shining forms of art. Shakespearean scholars have pointed out the connection between the dramatist and the exposer of exorcism. It has indeed been suggested by one student of Shakespeare that the great playwright was lending his aid by certain allusions in _Twelfth Night_ to Harsnett's attempts to pour ridicule on Puritan exorcism.[46] It would be hard to say how much there is in this suggestion. About Ben Jonson we can speak more certainly. It is clearly evident that he sneered at Darrel's pretended possessions. In the third scene of the fifth act of _The Devil is an Ass_ he makes Mere-craft say: It is the easiest thing, Sir, to be done. As plaine as fizzling: roule but wi' your eyes, And foame at th' mouth. A little castle-soape Will do 't, to rub your lips: And then a nutshell, With toe and touchwood in it to spit fire, Did you ner'e read, Sir, little _Darrel's_ tricks, With the boy o' _Burton_, and the 7 in _Lancashire_, Sommers at _Nottingham_? All these do teach it. And wee'l give out, Sir, that your wife ha's bewitch'd you. This is proof enough, not only that Jonson was in sympathy with the Anglican assailants of Puritan exorcism, but that he expected to find others of like opinion among those who listened to his play. And it was not unreasonable that he should expect this. It is clear enough that the powers of the Anglican church were behind Harsnett and that their influence gave his views weight. We have already observed that there were some evidences in the last part of Elizabeth's reign of a reaction against witch superstition. Harsnett's book, while directed primarily against exorcism, is nevertheless another proof of that reaction. [1] Sir George Peckham of Denham near Uxbridge and Lord Vaux of Hackney were two of the most prominent Catholics who opened their homes for these performances. See Samuel Harsnett, _Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures_ (London, 1603), 7, 8. [2] For a discussion of the Catholic exorcists see T. G. Law, "Devil Hunting in Elizabethan England," in the _Nineteenth Century_ for March, 1894. Peckham's other activities in behalf of his church are discussed by Dr. R. B. Merriman in "Some Notes on the Treatment of English Catholics in the Reign of Elizabeth," in the _Am. Hist. Rev._, April, 1908. Dr. Merriman errs, however, in supposing that John Darrel cooperated with Weston and the Catholic exorcists; _ibid._, note 51. Darrel was a Puritan and had nothing to do with the Catholic performances. [3] It is quite possible to suppose, however, that its course would have been run in much the same way at a later time. [4] For Harsnett's account of Katherine Wright see his _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel_ (London, 1599), 297-315. For Darrel's story see _The Triall of Maist. Dorrel, or A Collection of Defences against Allegations ..._ (1599), 15-21. [5] See Harsnett, _Discovery_, 310. [6] Katherine Wright's evil spirit returned later. [7] "I have seene her begging at our doore," he declared, "as for her name I know it not." [8] Harsnett, _Discovery_, 41, 265, deals briefly with the Darling case and Alse Gooderidge. See also John Darrel, _A Detection of that sinnful, shamful, lying, and ridiculous discours of Samuel Harshnet_ (1600), 38-40. But the fullest account is a pamphlet at the Lambeth Palace library. It is entitled _The most wonderfull and true Storie of a certaine Witch named Alse Gooderidge of Stapenhill.... As also a true Report of the strange Torments of Thomas Darling...._ (London, 1597). For a discussion of this pamphlet see appendix A, § 1. [9] The boy was visited by a stranger who tried to persuade him that there were no witches. But this Derbyshire disciple of Scot had come to the wrong place and his efforts were altogether useless. [10] Meantime her mother Elizabeth Wright was also being worried. She was found on her knees in prayer. No doubt the poor woman was taking this method of alleviating her distress; but her devotion was interpreted as worship of the Devil. [11] So Darrel says. The pamphleteer Denison, who put together the story of Alse Gooderidge, wrote "she should have been executed but that her spirit killed her in prison." [12] Darrel gives an extended account of this affair in _A True Narration of the strange and grevous Vexation by the Devil of seven persons in Lancashire_ (1600; reprinted in _Somers Tracts_, III), 170-179. See also George More, _A true Discourse concerning the certaine possession and dispossession of 7 persons in one familie in Lancashire ..._ (1600), 9 ff. [13] Certain matters in connection with this case are interesting. George More tells us that Mrs. Starchie was an "inheritrix." Some of her kindred, Papists, prayed for the perishing of her issue. Four of her children pined away. Mrs. Starchie, when told of their prayers, conveyed all her property to her husband. She had two children afterwards, the two that were stricken. It is possible that all this may present some key to the case, but it is hard to see just how. See More, _A true Discourse_, 11-12. [14] George More, _A true Discourse_, 15; Harsnett, _Discovery_, 22. While Dee took no part in the affair except that he "sharply reproved and straitly examined" Hartley, he lent Mr. Hopwood, the justice of the peace before whom Hartley was brought, his copy of the book of Wierus, then the collections of exorcisms known as the _Flagellum Dæmonum_ and the _Fustis Dæmonum_, and finally the famous _Malleus Maleficarum_. See Dee's _Private Diary_ (Camden Soc., London, 1843), entries for March 19, April 15, and August 6, 1597. [15] George More, _A true Discourse_, 21; Darrel, _A True Narration_ (_Somers Tracts_, III), 175. [16] Harsnett, _Discovery_, tells us that "certain Seminarie priests" got hold of her and carried her up and down the country and thereby "wonne great credit." [17] Darrel's account of this affair is in _A True Narration_ (_Somers Tracts_, III), 179-186. Harsnett takes it up in his _Discovery_, 78-264. [18] See deposition of Cooper, in Harsnett, _Discovery_, 114. [19] Depositions of Somers and Darrel, _ibid._, 124-125. It must be recalled that when this was first tried before a commission they were convinced that it was not imposture. A layman cannot refrain from suspecting that Darrel had hypnotic control over Somers. [20] _Ibid._, 141-142. [21] _Ibid._, 141. Harsnett quotes Darrel for this statement. [22] _Ibid._, 5; John Darrel, _An Apologie, or defence of the possession of William Sommers ..._ (1599?), L verso. [23] Darrel, _A True Narration_ (_Somers Tracts_, III), 184; see also his _A brief Apologie proving the possession of William Sommers ..._ (1599), 17. [24] Harsnett, _Discovery_, 7. [25] _Ibid._ [26] _Ibid._, 8; Darrel, _An Apologie, or defence_, 4; Darrel, _A True Narration_ (_Somers Tracts_, III), 185. [27] _Triall of Maist. Dorrel_, narrative in back of pamphlet. [28] Darrel, _A Detection of that sinnful ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 40. And see above, p. 56, note. [29] Harsnett, _Discovery_, 8. [30] _Ibid._, 320-322; Darrel, _An Apologie, or defence_, L III, says that the third jury acquitted her. Harsnett refers to the fact that he was found guilty by the grand inquest. [31] _The Triall of Maist. Dorrel_, preface "To the Reader." [32] Harsnett, _Discovery_, 9. [33] _Ibid._, 78-98. [34] Yet Darrel must have realized that he had the worst of it. There is a pathetic acknowledgment of this in the "Preface to the Reader" of his publication, _A Survey of Certaine Dialogical Discourses, written by John Deacon and John Walker ..._ (1602): "But like a tried and weather-beaten bird [I] wish for quiet corner to rest myself in and to drye my feathers in the warme sun." [35] T. G. Law, "Devil Hunting in Elizabethan England," in _Nineteenth Century_, March, 1894. [36] On the matter of exorcism the position of the Church of England became fixed by 1604. The question had been a cause of disagreement among the leaders of the Reformation. The Lutherans retained exorcism in the baptismal ritual and rivalled the Roman clergy in their exorcism of the possessed. It was just at the close of the sixteenth century that there arose in Lutheran Germany a hot struggle between the believers in exorcism and those who would oust it as a superstition. The Swiss and Genevan reformers, unlike Luther, had discarded exorcism, declaring it to have belonged only to the early church, and charging modern instances to Papist fraud; and with them seem to have agreed their South German friends. In England baptismal exorcism was at first retained in the ritual under Edward VI, but in 1552, under Bucer's influence, it was dropped. Under Elizabeth the yet greater influence of Zurich and Geneva must have discredited all exorcism, and one finds abundant evidence of this in the writings of Jewel and his followers. An interesting letter of Archbishop Parker in 1574 shows his utter incredulity as to possession in the case of Agnes Bridges and Rachel Pinder of Lothbury; see Parker's _Correspondence_ (Parker Soc., Cambridge, 1856), 465-466. His successor, the Calvinistic Whitgift, was almost certainly of the same mind. Bancroft, the next archbishop of Canterbury, drew up or at least inspired that epoch-making body of canons enacted by Convocation in the spring of 1604, the 72d article of which forbids any Anglican clergyman, without the express consent of his bishop obtained beforehand, to use exorcism in any fashion under any pretext, on pain of being counted an impostor and deposed from the ministry. This ended the matter so far as the English church was concerned. For this résumé of the Protestant and the Anglican attitude toward exorcism I am indebted to Professor Burr. [37] Harsnett, _A Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures_ (London, 1605), 136-138. [38] It is not impossible that Harsnett was acting as a mouth-piece for Bancroft. Darrel wrote: "There is no doubt but that S. H. stand for Samuell Harsnet, chapline to the Bishop of London, but whither he alone, or his lord and hee, have discovered this counterfeyting and cosonage there is the question. Some thinke the booke to be the Bishops owne doing: and many thinke it to be the joynt worke of them both." _A Detection of that sinnful ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 7, 8. [39] From 1602 until 1609 he was archdeacon of Essex; see _Victoria History of Essex_, II, (London, 1907), 46. [40] There is a statement by the Reverend John Swan, who wrote in 1603, that Harsnett's book had been put into the hands of King James, presumably after his coming to England; see John Swan, _A True and Breife Report of Mary Glover's Vexation, and of her deliverance ..._ (1603), "Dedication to the King," 3. One could wish for some confirmation of this statement. Certainly James would not at that time have sympathized with Harsnett's views about witches, but his attitude on several occasions toward those supposed to be possessed by evil spirits would indicate that he may very well have been influenced by a reading of the _Discovery_. [41] On page 36 of the _Discovery_ Harsnett wrote: "Whether witches can send devils into men and women (as many doe pretende) is a question amongst those that write of such matters, and the learneder and sounder sort doe hold the negative." One does not need to read far in Harsnett to understand what he thought. [42] His scholarship, evident from his books, is attested by Thomas Fuller, who calls him "a man of great learning, strong parts, and stout spirit" (_Worthies of England_, ed. of London, 1840, I, 507). [43] See his _Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures_, 134-136; his _Discovery_ also shows the use of Scot. [44] Harsnett, _Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures_, 98, 123, 110. [45] Read _ibid._, 131-140. [46] Joseph Hunter, _New Illustrations of the Life, Studies and Writings of Shakespeare_ (London, 1845), I, 380-390. CHAPTER V. JAMES I AND WITCHCRAFT. Some one has remarked that witchcraft came into England with the Stuarts and went out with them. This offhand way of fixing the rise and fall of a movement has just enough truth about it to cause misconception. Nothing is easier than to glance at the alarms of Elizabeth's reign and to see in them accidental outbreaks with little meaning, isolated affairs presaging a new movement rather than part of it. As a matter of fact, any such view is superficial. In previous chapters the writer has endeavored to show just how foreign ideas and conditions at home gave the impulse to a movement which within a single reign took very definite form. Yet so much was the movement accelerated, such additional impetus was given it by James I, that the view that James set the superstition going in England, however superficial, has some truth in it. If Elizabeth had ever given the matter thought, she had not at least given it many words. James had very definite opinions on the subject and hesitated not at all to make them known. His views had weight. It is useless to deny that the royal position swayed the courts. James's part in the witch persecution cannot be condoned, save on the ground that he was perfectly honest. He felt deeply on the matter. It was little wonder. He had grown up in Scotland in the very midst of the witch alarms. His own life, he believed, had been imperilled by the machinations of witches. He believed he had every reason to fear and hate the creatures, and we can only wonder that he was so moderate as we shall later find him to have been. The story of the affair that stirred up the Scottish king and his people has often been told, but it must be included here to make his attitude explicable. In 1589 he had arranged for a marriage with the Princess Anne of Denmark. The marriage had been performed by proxy in July, and it was then provided that the princess was to come to England. She set out, but was driven on to the coast of Norway by a violent storm, and detained there by the continuance of the storms. James sailed to Upsala, and, after a winter in the north of the Continent, brought his bride to Scotland in the spring, not without encountering more rough weather. To the people of the time it was quite clear that the ocean was unfriendly to James's alliance. Had Scotland been ancient Greece, no doubt Neptune would have been propitiated by a sacrifice. But it was Scotland, and the ever-to-be-feared Satan was not so easily propitiated. He had been very active of late in the realm. Moreover it was a time when Satanic and other conspiracies were likely to come to light. The kingdom was unsettled, if not discontented. There were plots, and rumors of plots. The effort to expose them, as well as to thwart the attacks of the evil one on the king, led to the conception and spread of the monstrous story of the conspiracy of Dr. Fian. Dr. Fian was nothing less than a Scottish Dr. Faustus. He was a schoolmaster by profession. After a dissolute youth he was said to have given soul to the Devil. According to the story he gathered around him a motley crowd, Catholic women of rank, "wise women," and humble peasant people; but it was a crew ready for evil enterprise. It is not very clear why they were supposed to have attacked the king; perhaps because of his well known piety, perhaps because he was a Protestant. In any case they set about, as the story went, to destroy him, and thought to have found their opportunity in his trip to Denmark. They would drown him in a storm at sea. There was a simple expedient for raising a storm, the throwing of cats into the sea. This Scottish method of sacrificing to Neptune was duly carried out, and, as we have seen, just fell short of destroying the king. It was only the piety of the king, as Dr. Fian admitted in his confession, that overmatched the power of the evil one.[1] Such is the story that stirred Scotland from end to end. It is a story that is easily explained. The confessions were wrung from the supposed conspirators by the various forms of torture "lately provided for witches in that country." Geillis Duncane had been tried with "the torture of the pilliwinkes upon her fingers, which is a grievous torture, and binding or wrinching her head with a cord or roape." Agnes Sampson had suffered terrible tortures and shameful indignities until her womanly modesty could no longer endure it and she confessed "whatsoever was demanded of her." Dr. Fian was put through the ordinary forms of torture and was then "put to the most severe and cruel pain in the world, called the bootes," and thereby was at length induced to break his silence and to incriminate himself. At another time, when the king, who examined him in person, saw that the man was stubborn and denied the confessions already made, he ordered him to be tortured again. His finger nails were pulled off with a pair of pincers, and under what was left of them needles were inserted "up to the heads." This was followed by other tortures too terrible to narrate.[2] It is a little hard to understand how it was that the king "took great delight to be present at the examinations," but throughout the whole wretched series of trials he was never wanting in zeal. When Barbara Napier, sister-in-law to the laird of Carshoggil, was to be executed, a postponement had been granted on account of her approaching accouchement. Afterwards, "nobody insisting in the pursute of her, she was set at libertie." It seems also that the jury that had before condemned her had acquitted her of the main charge, that of treasonable witchcraft against the king. The king was angered at the default of justice, went to the Tolbooth, and made an address on the subject. He spoke of "his own impartiality, the use of witchcraft, the enormity of the crime, ... the ignorance of thinking such matters mere fantasies, the cause of his own interference in the matter, the ignorance of the assizes in the late trial, his own opinion of what witches really are."[3] It was only a few years later that James put that opinion into written form. All the world knows that the king was a serious student. With unremitting zeal he studied this matter, and in 1597, seven years after the Dr. Fian affair, he published his _Dæmonologie_.[4] It was expressly designed to controvert the "damnable opinions of two principally in our age"--Scot, who "is not ashamed in publick Print to deny that there can be such a thing as witchcraft," and Wierus, "a German physician," who "sets out a publicke apologie for all these craft-folkes whereby ... he plainly bewrayes himself to have been one of that profession." It was to be expected that James would be an exponent of the current system of belief. He had read diligently, if not widely, in the Continental lore of the subject and had assimilated much of it. He was Scotch enough to be interested in theology and Stuart enough to have very definite opinions. James had, too, his own way of putting things. There was a certain freshness about his treatment, in spite of the fact that he was ploughing old fields. Nothing illustrates better his combination of adherence to tradition, of credulity, and of originality than his views on the transportation of witches, a subject that had long engaged the theorists in demonology. Witches could be transported, he believed, by natural means, or they could be carried through the air "by the force of the spirit which is their conducter," as Habakkuk was carried by the angel.[5] This much he could accept. But that they could be transformed into a "little beast or foule" and pierce through "whatsoever house or Church, though all ordinarie passages be closed," this he refused to believe. So far, however, there was nothing original about either his belief or his disbelief. But his suggestion on another matter was very probably his own. There had been long discussion as to how far through the air witches could go. It was James's opinion that they could go only so far as they could retain their breath. But it was seldom that the royal demonologist wandered far from the beaten road. He was a conformist and he felt that the orthodox case needed defence: so he set about to answer the objectors. To the argument that it was a strange thing that witches were melancholy and solitary women (and so, he would have explained, offer the easiest object of attack) he interposed a flat denial: they are "some of them rich and worldly-wise, some of them fat or corpulent in their bodies." To the point that if witches had the power ascribed to them no one but themselves would be left alive in the world, he answered that such would be the case, were not the power of the Devil bridled by God. To the plea that God would not allow his children to be vexed by the Devil, he replied that God permits the godly who are sleeping in sin to be troubled; that He even allows the Evil One to vex the righteous for his own good--a conventional argument that has done service in many a theological controversy. It is a curious circumstance that James seemingly recognized the reliability of the Romish exorcisms which the Church of England was about that time beginning to attack. His explanation of them is worthy of "the wisest fool in Christendom." The Papists could often effect cures of the possessed, he thought, because "the divell is content to release the bodily hurting of them, ... thereby to obtain the perpetual hurt of the soules." That James should indulge in religious disquisitions rather than in points of evidence was to be expected. Although he had given up the Scottish theology, he never succeeded in getting it thoroughly out of his system. As to the evidence against the accused, the royal writer was brief. Two sorts of evidence he thought of value, one "the finding of their marke, and the trying the insensiblenes thereof, the other is their fleeting [floating] on the water." The latter sign was based, he said, on the fact that the water refuses to receive a witch--that is to say, the pure element would refuse to receive those who had renounced their baptism.[6] We shall see that the influence of the _Dæmonologie_ can be fairly appraised by measuring the increased use of these two tests of guilt within his own reign and that of his son. Hitherto the evidence of the mark had been of rather less importance, while the ordeal by water was not in use. The alleged witch-mark on the body had to do with the contracts between witches and the Devil. This loathsome side of witch belief we cannot go into. Suffice it to say that James insisted on the reality of these contracts and consequently upon the punishment that should be meted to those who had entered into them. All witches except children should be sentenced to death. The king shows a trace of conventional moderation, however, and admits that the magistrates should be careful whom they condemned. But, while he holds that the innocent should not be condemned, he warns officials against the sin of failing to convict the guilty.[7] We shall see that throughout his reign in England he pursued a course perfectly consistent with these principles. A critical estimate of James's book it is somewhat hard to give. Students of witchcraft have given utterance to the most extravagant but widely divergent opinions upon it. The writer confesses that he has not that acquaintance with the witch literature of the Continent which would enable him to appraise the _Dæmonologie_ as to its originality. So good an authority as Thomas Wright has declared that it is "much inferior to the other treatises on the subject," and that it was compiled from foreign works.[8] Doubtless a study of the Continental literature would warrant, at least in part, this opinion. Yet one gets the impression, from what may be learned of that great body of writing through the historians of witchcraft, that James's opinions were in some respects his own. He had, of course, absorbed the current belief, but he did not hesitate to give his own interpretation and explanation of phenomena. That interpretation is not wanting in shrewdness. It seems to one who has wandered through many tedious defences of the belief in witchcraft that James's work is as able as any in English prior to the time of Joseph Glanvill in 1668. One who should read Glanvill and James together would get a very satisfactory understanding of the position of the defenders of the superstition. Glanvill insisted upon what he believed were well authenticated facts of experience. James grounded his belief upon a course of theoretical reasoning. We have already indicated that James's book was influential in its time. It goes without saying that his position as a sovereign greatly enhanced its influence. This was particularly true after he took the throne of England. The dicta that emanated from the executive of the English nation could not fail to find a wide audience, and especially in England itself. His work offered a text-book to officials. It was a key to the character and methods of the new ruler, and those who hoped for promotion were quick to avail themselves of it. To prosecute witches was to win the sovereign's approval. The judges were prompted to greater activity. Moreover, the sanction of royalty gave to popular outbreaks against suspicious women greater consideration at the hands of the gentry. And it was in the last analysis the gentry, in the persons of the justices of the peace, who decided whether or no neighborhood whispering and rumors should be followed up. But the king's most direct influence was in the passing of a new law. His first Parliament had been in session but eight days when steps were taken by the House of Lords towards strengthening the statute against witchcraft. The law in force, passed in the fifth year of Elizabeth's reign, imposed the death penalty for killing by witchcraft, and a year's imprisonment for injuring by witchcraft or by allied means. James would naturally feel that this law was merely one version of the statute against murder and did not touch the horrible crime of contract with the Devil and the keeping of imps.[9] Here was a sin beside which the taking of life was a light offence. It was needful that those who were guilty of it should suffer the severest penalty of the law, even if they had not caused the loss of a single life. It was to remedy this defect in the criminal code that a new statute was introduced. It is not worth while to trace the progress of that bill from day to day. It can be followed in the journals of the Lords and Commons. The bill went to a large committee that included six earls and twelve bishops.[10] Perhaps the presence of the bishops was an evidence that witchcraft was still looked upon as a sin rather than as a crime. It was a matter upon which the opinion of the church had been received before and might well be accepted again. It was further arranged that the Lord Chief-Justice of the common pleas, Sir Edmund Anderson, and the attorney-general, the later so famous Sir Edward Coke, along with other eminent jurists, were to act with the committee. Anderson, it will be recalled, had presided over numerous trials and had both condemned and released witches. As to Coke's attitude towards this subject, we know not a thing, save that he served on this committee. The committee seems to have found enough to do. At any rate the proposed statute underwent revision.[11] Doubtless the privy council had a hand in the matter;[12] indeed it is not unlikely that the bill was drawn up under its direction. On the 9th of June, about two months and a half after its introduction, the statute passed its final reading in the Lords.[13] It repealed the statute of Elizabeth's reign and provided that any one who "shall use, practise or exercise any Invocation or Conjuration of any evill and wicked Spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, entertaine, employe, feede, or rewarde any evill and wicked Spirit to or for any intent or purpose; or take up any dead man, woman, or child, ... to be imployed or used in any manner of Witchcrafte" should suffer death as a felon. It further provided that any one who should "take upon him or them by Witchcrafte ... to tell or declare in what place any treasure of Golde or Silver should or might be founde ... or where Goods or Things loste or stollen should be founde or become, or to the intent to provoke any person to unlawfull love, or wherebie any Cattell or Goods of any person shall be destroyed, wasted, or impaired, or to hurte or destroy any person in his or her bodie, although the same be not effected and done," should for the first offence suffer one year's imprisonment with four appearances in the pillory, and for the second offence, death. The law explains itself. Not only the killing of people by the use of evil spirits, but even the using of evil spirits in such a way as actually to cause hurt was a capital crime. The second clause punished white magic and the intent to hurt, even where it "be not effected," by a year's imprisonment and the pillory. It can be easily seen that one of the things which the framers of the statute were attempting to accomplish in their somewhat awkward wording was to make the fact of witchcraft as a felony depend chiefly upon a single form of evidence, the testimony to the use of evil spirits. We have seen why people with James's convictions about contracts with the Devil might desire to rest the crime upon this kind of proof.[14] It can be readily understood, too, how the statute would work in practice. Hitherto it had been possible to arraign a witch on the accusations of her neighbors, but it was not possible to send her to the gallows unless some death in the vicinity could be laid to her charge. The community that hustled a suspicious woman to court was likely to suffer the expense of her imprisonment for a year. It had no assurance that it could be finally rid of her. Under the new statute it was only necessary to prove that the woman made use of evil spirits, and she was put out of the way. It was a simpler thing to charge a woman with keeping a "familiar" than to accuse her of murder. The stories that the village gossips gathered in their rounds had the keeping of "familiars" for their central interest.[15] It was only necessary to produce a few of these gossips in court and the woman was doomed. To be sure, this is theory. The practical question is, not how would the law operate, but how did it operate? This brings us again into the dangerous field of statistics. Now, if we may suppose that the witch cases known to us are a safe basis of comparison, the reign of James, as has already been intimated, shows a notable increase in witch executions over that of Elizabeth. We have records of between forty and fifty people who suffered for the crime during the reign of James, all but one of them within the first fifteen years. It will be seen that the average per year is nearly double that of the executions known to us in the first part of Elizabeth's rule, and of course several times that of those known in the last part. This increased number we are at once inclined to assign to the direct and indirect influence of the new king. But it may very fairly be asked whether the new statute passed at the king's suggestion had not been in part responsible for the increased number. This question can be answered from an examination of those cases where we have the charges given. Of thirty-seven such cases in the reign of James I, where the capital sentence was given, seventeen were on indictments for witchcrafts that had not caused death. In the other twenty cases, the accused were charged with murder.[16] This means that over two-fifths of those who are known to have been convicted under the new law would have escaped death under the Elizabethan statute. With all due allowance for the incompleteness of our statistics, it seems certain that the new law had added very considerably to the number of capital sentences. Subtract the seventeen death sentences for crimes of witchcraft that were not murder from the total number of such sentences, and we have figures not so different from those of Elizabeth's reign. This is a sufficient comment on the effectiveness of the new law as respects its particularly novel features. A study of the character of the evidence and of the tests of guilt employed at the various trials during the reign will show that the phrasing of the law, as well as the royal directions for trying guilt, influenced the forms of accusation and the verdicts of the juries. In other words the testimony rendered in some of the well known trials of the reign offers the best commentary upon the statute as well as upon the _Dæmonologie_. This can be illustrated from three of the processes employed to determine guilt. The king had recommended the water ordeal. Up to this time it had not been employed in English witch cases, so far as we know. The first record of its use was in 1612, nine years after James ascended the English throne. In that year there was a "discoverie" of witches at Northampton. Eight or nine women were accused of torturing a man and his sister and of laming others. One of them was, at the command of a justice of the peace, cast into the water with "her hands and feete bound," but "could not sink to the bottome by any meanes." The same experiment was applied to Arthur Bill and his parents. He was accused of bewitching a Martha Aspine. His father and mother had long been considered witches. But the "matter remaining doubtful that it could not be cleerly tryed upon him," he (and his parents) were tied with "their thumbes and great toes ... acrosse" and thrown into the water. The suspicion that was before not well grounded was now confirmed.[17] To be sure, this was done by the justices of the peace and we do not know how much it influenced the assize court.[18] These are the only instances given us by the records of James's reign where this test was employed by the authorities. But in the very next year after the Northampton affair it was used in the adjoining county of Bedford by private parties. A land-owner who had suffered ills, as he thought, from two tenants, Mother Sutton and her daughter, took matters into his own hands. His men were ordered to strip the two women "in to their smocks," to tie their arms together, and to throw them into the water. The precaution of a "roape tyed about their middles" was useless, for both floated. This was not enough. The mother, tied toe and thumb, was thrown into the water again. She "sunke not at all, but sitting upon the water turned round about like a wheele.... And then being taken up, she as boldly as if she had beene innocent asked them if they could doe any more to her." The use of marks as evidence was not as new as the water ordeal. But it is a rather curious thing that in the two series of cases involving water ordeal the other process was also emphasized. In these two instances it would seem as if the advice of the _Dæmonologie_ had been taken very directly by the accusers.[19] There was one other instance of this test.[20] The remarkable thing, however, is that in the most important trial of the time, that at Lancaster in 1612, there was an utter absence, at least so far as the extant record goes, of female juries or of reports from them.[21] This method of determining guilt was not as yet widely accepted in the courts. We can hardly doubt that it had been definitely forbidden at Lancaster.[22] The evidence of the use of evil spirits, against which the statute of the first year of James I had been especially framed, was employed in such a large proportion of trials that it is not worth while to go over the cases in detail. The law forbade to take up any dead person or the skin, bone, or other part thereof for use in witchcraft. Presumably some instance of this form of witchcraft had been responsible for the phrase, but we have on record no case of the sort until a few years after the passage of the statute. It was one of the principal charges against Johanna Harrison of Royston in 1606 that the officers found in her possession "all the bones due to the Anatomy of man and woman."[23] This discovery brought out other charges and she was hanged. At the famous Lancashire trials in 1612 the arch-witch Chattox was declared to have had in her possession three scalps and eight teeth. She was guilty on other counts, but she escaped the executioner by death. These are illustrations of the point that the _Dæmonologie_ and the statute of James I find their commentary in the evidence offered at the trials. It goes without saying that these illustrations represent only a few of the forms of testimony given in the courts. It may not, therefore, be amiss to run over some other specimens of the proof that characterized the witch trials of the reign. With most of them we are already familiar. The requirement that the witch should repeat certain words after the justice of the peace was used once in the reign of James. It was an unusual method at best.[24] A commoner form of proof was that adduced from the finding or seeing clay or waxen images in the possession of the accused.[25] The witness who had found such a model on the premises of the defendant or had seen the defendant handling it, jumped readily to the conclusion that the image represented some individual. If it should be asked how we are to account for this sort of evidence, the answer is an easy one. Every now and then in the annals of witchcraft it came out that a would-be accuser had hidden a waxen or clay figure in the house of the person he wished to accuse and had then found it. No doubt some cases started in this way. No doubt, too, bitter women with grudges to satisfy did experiment with images and were caught at it. But this was rare. In the greater number of cases the stories of images were pure fabrications. To that category belong almost certainly the tales told at Lancaster.[26] "Spectral evidence" we have met with in the Elizabethan period. That reign saw two or three instances of its employment, and there were more examples of it in the reign of James. Master Avery of Northampton, who with his sister was the principal accuser in the trials there, saw in one of his fits a black wart on the body of Agnes Brown, a wart which was actually found "upon search."[27] Master Avery saw other spectres, but the most curious was that of a bloody man desiring him to have mercy on his Mistress Agnes and to cease impeaching her.[28] At Bedford, Master Enger's servant had a long story to tell, but the most thrilling part concerned a visit which the young Mary Sutton (whom he was accusing) made to him. On a "moonshine night" she came in at the window in her "accustomed and personall habite and shape" and knitted at his side. Then drawing nearer, she offered him terms by which he could be restored to his former health, terms which we are to understand the virtuous witness refused. It is pleasant to know that Master Enger was "distrustfull of the truth" of this tale. One fears that these spectres were not the products of overwrought imagination, as were many others, but were merely fabrics of elaborate fiction.[29] In any case they were not the groundwork of the proof. In the Fairfax prosecutions at York in 1622 the charges against the six women accused rested entirely upon a great tissue of spectral evidence. The three children had talked to the spectres, had met them outdoors and at church and in the kitchen. The spectres were remarkably wise and named visitors whom the family did not know. They struggled with the children, they rolled over them in bed, they followed them to the neighbors. Somewhat akin to the evidence from apparitions was that from the effect of a witch's glance. This is uncommonly rare in English witchcraft, but the reign of James offers two instances of it. In Royston, Hertfordshire, there was "an honest fellow and as boone a companion ... one that loved the pot with the long necke almost as well as his prayers." One day when he was drinking with four companions Johanna Harrison came in and "stood gloating upon them." He went home and at once fell sick.[30] At Northampton the twelve-year-old Hugh Lucas had looked "stark" upon Jane Lucas at church and gone into convulsions when he returned home.[31] One other form of proof demands notice. In the trial of Jennet Preston at York it was testified that the corpse of Mr. Lister, whom she was believed to have slain by witchcraft, had bled at her presence. The judge did not overlook this in summarizing the evidence. It was one of three important counts against the woman, indeed it was, says the impressive Mr. Potts, quoting the judge, of more consequence than all the rest.[32] Of course Mistress Preston went to the gallows. It will occur to the reader to ask whether any sort of evidence was ruled out or objected to. On this point we have but slight knowledge. In reporting the trial of Elizabeth Sawyer of Edmonton in 1621 the Reverend Henry Goodcole wrote that a piece of thatch from the accused woman's house was plucked and burned, whereupon the woman presently came upon the scene.[33] Goodcole characterized this method as an "old ridiculous custome" and we may guess that he spoke for the judge too. In the Lancashire cases, Justice Altham, whose credulity knew hardly any bounds, grew suddenly "suspitious of the accusation of this yong wench, Jennet Device," who had been piling up charges against Alice Nutter. The girl was sent out of the room, the witches were mixed up, and Jennet was required on coming in again to pick out Alice Nutter. Of course that proved an easy matter.[34] At another time, when Jennet was glibly enumerating the witches that had assembled at the great meeting at Malking Tower, the judge suddenly asked her if Joane-a-Downe were there. But the little girl failed to rise to the bait and answered negatively, much to the satisfaction of everybody, and especially of the righteous Mr. Potts.[35] This is all we know directly about any tendency to question evidence at Lancaster in 1612, but a good deal more may be inferred from what is not there. A comparison of that trial with other contemporary trials will convince any one that Justices Altham and Bromley must have ruled out certain forms of evidence. There were no experiments made of any sort nor any female juries set inspecting.[36] This, indeed, is not to say that all silly testimony was excluded. There is enough and more of sheer nonsense in the testimony to prove the contrary. We turn now from the question of evidence to a brief consideration of several less prominent features of Jacobean witchcraft. We shall note the character of the sentences, the distribution of the trials, the personnel and position in life of the accused, and lastly the question of jurisdiction. We have in another connection indicated the approximate number of executions of which we have record in James's reign. That number, we saw, was certainly over forty and probably approached fifty. It represented, however, not quite half the total number of cases of accusation recorded. In consequence the other verdicts and sentences have significance. Especially is this true of the acquittals. They amounted to thirty, perhaps to forty. When we add the trials of which we do not know the outcome, we can guess that the number was close to the sum total of executions. Legally only one other outcome of a trial was possible, a year's imprisonment with quarterly appearances in the pillory. There were three or four instances of this penalty as well as one case where bond of good behavior was perhaps substituted for imprisonment.[37] Five pardons were issued,[38] three of them by the authorities at London, two of them by local powers apparently under compulsion.[39] We come now to consider the personnel, sex, occupations, and positions in life of the accused. On certain of these matters it is possible to give statistical conclusions, but such conclusions must be accepted with great caution. By a count as careful as the insufficient evidence permits it would seem that about six times as many women were indicted as men. This was to be expected. It is perhaps less in accord with tradition that twice as many married women as spinsters seem to have figured in the witch trials of the Jacobean era. The proportion of widows to unmarried women was about the same, so that the proportion of unmarried women among the whole number accused would seem to have been small. These results must be accepted guardedly, yet more complete statistics would probably show that the proportion of married women was even greater.[40] The position in life of these people was not unlike that of the same class in the earlier period. In the account of the Lancashire trials we shall see that the two families whose quarrels started the trouble were the lowest of low hill-country people, beggars and charmers, lax in their morals and cunning in their dealings. The Flower women, mother and daughter, had been charged with evil living; it was said that Agnes Brown and her daughter of Northampton had very doubtful reputations; Mother Sutton of Bedford was alleged to have three illegitimate children. The rest of the witches of the time were not, however, quite so low in the scale. They were household servants, poor tenants, "hog hearders," wives of yeomen, broomsellers, and what not. Above this motley peasant crew were a few of various higher ranks. A schoolmaster who had experimented with sorcery against the king,[41] a minister who had been "busy with conjuration in his youth,"[42] a lady charged with sorcery but held for other sin,[43] a conjurer who had rendered professional services to a passionate countess,[44] these make up a strange group of witches, and for that matter an unimportant one. None of their cases were illustrations of the working of witch law; they were rather stray examples of the connection between superstition, on the one hand, and politics and court intrigue on the other. Not so, however, the prosecution of Alice Nutter in the Lancashire trials of 1612. Alice Nutter was a member of a well known county family. "She was," says Potts, "a rich woman, had a great estate and children of good hope."[45] She was moreover "of good temper, free from envy and malice." In spite of all this she was accused of the most desperate crimes and went to the gallows. Why family connections and influences could not have saved her is a mystery. In another connection we spoke of two witches pardoned by local authorities at the instance of the government. This brings us to the question of jurisdiction. The town of Rye had but recently, it would seem, been granted a charter and certain judicial rights. But when the town authorities sentenced one woman to death and indicted another for witchcraft, the Lord Warden interfered with a question as to their power.[46] The town, after some correspondence, gave way and both women were pardoned. This was, however, the only instance of disputed jurisdiction. The local powers in King's Lynn hanged a witch without interference,[47] and the vicar-general of the Bishop of Durham proceeded against a "common charmer"[48] with impunity, as of course he had every right to do. There is, in fact, a shred of evidence to show that the memory of ecclesiastical jurisdiction had not been lost. In the North Riding of Yorkshire the quarter sessions sentenced Ralph Milner for "sorcerie, witchcraft, inchantment and telling of fortunes" to confess his fault at divine service, "that he hath heighlie offended God and deluded men, and is heartily sorie."[49] There is nothing, of course, in the statute to authorize this form of punishment, and it is only accounted for as a reversion to the original ecclesiastical penalty for a crime that seemed to belong in church courts. What we call nowadays mob law had not yet made its appearance--that is, in connection with witchcraft. We shall see plenty of it when we come to the early part of the eighteenth century. But there was in 1613 one significant instance of independence of any jurisdiction, secular or ecclesiastical. In the famous case at Bedford, Master Enger, whom we have met before, had been "damnified" in his property to the round sum of £200. He was at length persuaded that Mother Sutton was to blame. Without any authority whatsoever he brought her forcibly to his house and caused her to be scratched.[50] Not only so, but he threw the woman and her daughter, tied and bound, into his mill-pond to prove their guilt.[51] In the mean time the wretched creatures had been stripped of their clothes and examined for marks, under whose oversight we are not told, but Master Enger was responsible. He should have suffered for all this, but there is no record of his having done so. On the contrary he carried the prosecution of the women to a successful issue and saw them both hanged. We now turn to the question of the distribution of witchcraft in the realm during James's reign. From the incidental references already given, it will be evident that the trials were distributed over a wide area. In number executed, Lancashire led with ten, Leicester had nine, Northampton five or more, Middlesex four,[52] Bedford, Lincoln, York, Bristol, and Hertford each two; Derby had several, the exact number we can not learn. These figures of the more serious trials seem to show that the alarm was drifting from the southeast corner of England towards the midlands. In the last half of Elizabeth's rule the centre had been to the north of London in the southern midlands. Now it seems to have progressed to the northern midlands. Leicester, Derby, and Nottingham may be selected as the triangle of counties that would fairly represent the centre of the movement. If the matter were to be determined with mathematical accuracy, the centre would need to be placed perhaps a little farther west, for Stafford, Cheshire, Bristol, and the remote Welsh Carnarvon all experienced witch alarms. In the north, York and Durham had their share of trials. It will be easier to realize what had happened when we discover that, so far as records go, Kent and Essex were entirely quiet during the period, and East Anglia almost so. We shall later see that these counties had not at all forgotten to believe in witchcraft, but the witchfinders had ceased their activities for a while. To be sure, this reasoning from the distribution of trials is a dangerous proceeding. Witch alarms, on they face of things, seem haphazard outbursts of excitement. And such no doubt they are in part; yet one who goes over many cases in order cannot fail to observe that an outbreak in one county was very likely to be followed by one in the next county.[53] This is perfectly intelligible to every one familiar with the essentially contagious character of these scares. The stories spread from village to village as fast as that personified Rumor of the poet Vergil, "than which nothing is fleeter"; nor did they halt with the sheriffs at the county boundaries. We have now traced the growth of James's opinions until they found effect in English law, have seen the practical operation of that law, and have gone over the forms of evidence, as well as some other features of the witch trials of his reign. In the next chapter we shall take up some of the more famous Jacobean cases in detail as examples of witch alarms. We shall seek to find out how they started and what were the real causes at work. [1] I have not attempted to give more than a brief résumé of this story, and have used Thomas Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_ (London, 1851), I, 181-190, and Mrs. Lynn Linton, _Witch Stories_, 21-34. The pamphlet about Dr. Fian is a rare one, but may be found in several libraries. It has been reprinted by the _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. XLIX (1779), by the Roxburghe Club (London, 1816), by Robert Pitcairn, in his _Criminal Trials in Scotland_ (Edinburgh, 1829-1833), vol. I, and doubtless in many other places. Pitcairn has also printed a part of the records of his trial. [2] This is all based upon the contemporary accounts mentioned above. [3] _Register of the Privy Council of Scotland_, IV (Edinburgh, 1881), 644-645, note. [4] A fresh edition was brought out at London in 1603. In 1616 it appeared again as a part of the handsome collection of his _Workes_ compiled by the Bishop of Winchester. [5] This story is to be found in the apocryphal book of Bel and the Dragon. It played a great part in the discussions of the writers on witchcraft. [6] H. C. Lea, _Superstition and Force_ (4th ed., Philadelphia, 1892), 325 ff., gives some facts about the water ordeal on the Continent. A sharp dispute over its use in witch cases was just at this time going on there. [7] He recommended torture in finding out the guilty: "And further experience daily proves how loth they are to confesse without torture, which witnesseth their guiltinesse," _Dæmonologie_, bk. ii, ch. i. [8] Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_, I, 197. [9] Edward Fairfax, _A Discourse of Witchcraft As it was acted in the Family of Mr. Edward Fairfax ... in the year 1621_ (Philobiblon Soc., _Miscellanies_, V, ed. R. Monckton Milnes, London, 1858-1859), "Preface to the Reader," 26, explains the king's motive: His "Majesty found a defect in the statutes, ... by which none died for Witchcraft but they only who by that means killed, so that such were executed rather as murderers than as Witches." [10] _Journals of the House of Lords_, II, 269; Wm. Cobbett, _Parliamentary History_, I, 1017, 1018. [11] _Lords' Journal_, II, 271, 316; _Commons' Journal_, I, 203-204. [12] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1603-1610_, 117. [13] It had passed the third reading in the Commons on June 7; _Commons' Journal_, I, 234. [14] It can hardly be doubted that the change in the wording of the law was dictated not only by the desire to simplify the matter of proof but by a wish to satisfy those theologians who urged that any use of witchcraft was a "covenant with death" and "an agreement with hell" (Isaiah xxviii, 18). [15] See Southworth case in Thomas Potts, _The Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches in the countie of Lancaster ..._ (London, 1613; reprinted, Chetham Soc., 1845), L 2 verso. Cited hereafter as Potts. [16] See, below, appendix B. It should be added that six others who had been condemned by the judges for bewitching a boy were released at James's command. [17] _The Witches of Northamptonshire ..._ C 2 verso. The writer of this pamphlet, who does not tell the story of the ordeal so fully as the author of the MS. account, "A briefe abstract of the arraignment of nine witches at Northampton, July 21, 1612" (Brit. Mus., Sloane, 972), gives, however, proof of the influence of James in the matter. He says that the two ways of testing witches are by the marks and "the trying of the insensiblenesse thereof," and by "their fleeting on the water," which is an exact quotation from James, although not so indicated. [18] The mother and father were apparently not sent to the assize court. [19] The female jury was used at Northampton ("women sworn"), also at Bedford, but by a private party. [20] It was used in 1621 on Elizabeth Sawyer of Edmonton. In this case it was done clearly at the command of the judge who tried her at the Old Bailey. [21] Elizabeth Device, however, confessed that the "said Devill did get blood under her left arme," which raises a suspicion that this confession was the result of accusations against her on that score. [22] See account in next chapter of the trial at Lancaster. [23] This case must be used with hesitation; see below, appendix A, § 3. [24] At Warboys the Samuels had been required to repeat: "If I be a witch and consenting to the death" of such and such a one. Alice Wilson, at Northampton in 1612, was threatened by the justice with execution, if she would not say after the minister "I forsake the Devil." She is said to have averred that she could not say this. See MS. account of the witches of Northampton. [25] Well known is the practice ascribed to witches of making a waxen image, which was then pricked or melted before the fire, in the belief that the torments inflicted upon it would be suffered by the individual it represented. [26] Potts, E 3 verso, F 4, G 2; also _The Wonderful Discoverie of the Witchcrafts of Margaret and Phillip Flower, ..._ (London, 1619), 21. [27] See MS. account of the Northampton witches. [28] _Ibid._: "Sundry other witches appeared to him.... Hee heard many of them railing at Jane Lucas, laying the fault on her that they were thus accused." [29] There was practically no spectral evidence in the Lancashire cases. Lister on his death-bed had cried out against Jennet Preston, and John Law was tormented with a vision of Alizon Device "both day and night"; Potts, Y 2 verso. But these were exceptional. [30] See _The Most Cruell and Bloody Murther committed by ... Annis Dell.... With the Severall Witch-crafts ... of one Johane Harrison and her Daughter_ (London, 1606). [31] MS. account of the Northampton witches. [32] See Potts, Z 2. [33] The dramatist Dekker made use of this; see his _Witch of Edmonton_, act IV, scene I (Mermaid edition, London, 1904): 1st Countreyman.--This thatch is as good as a jury to prove she is a witch. * * * * * Justice.-- Come, come: firing her thatch? ridiculous! Take heed, sirs, what you do; unless your proofs Come better aimed, instead of turning her Into a witch, you'll prove yourselves stark fools. [34] See Potts, P 2. [35] See _ibid._, Q verso. This, however, was the second time that the judge had tried this ruse; see _ibid._, P 2. [36] See above, note 21. [37] North Riding Record Soc., _Quarter Sessions Records_ (London, 1883, etc.), III, 181. [38] Two of them, however, were issued to the same woman, one in 1604 and one in 1610. [39] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIII, 4 (Rye), pp. 136-137, 139-140, 144, 147-148. [40] The term "spinster" was sometimes used of a married woman. [41] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1619-1623_, 125, Chamberlain to Carleton, February 26, 1620: "Peacock, a schoolmaster, committed to the Tower and tortured for practising sorcery upon the King, to infatuate him in Sir Thos. Lake's business." This is one of those rare cases in which we know certainly that torture was used. [42] Sir Thomas Lake to Viscount Cranbourne, January 20, 1604, Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 6177, fol. 403. [43] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1623-1625_, 474, 485, 497. [44] T. B. and T. J. Howell, _State Trials_ (London, 1809-1818), II. [45] See Potts, O 3 verso. [46] See _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIII, 4 (Rye), pp. 136-137, 139-140, 144, 147-148. [47] See Alexander Roberts, _A Treatise of Witchcraft ..._ (London, 1616), dedicated to the "Maior and Aldermen." [48] M. A. Richardson, _Table Book_ (London, 1841-1846), I, 245. [49] North Riding Record Soc., _Quarter Sessions Records_, I, 58. [50] "... neither had they authoritie to compell her to goe without a Constable." [51] Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 36,674, fol. 148. This is a brief description of "how to discover a witch." It recommends the water ordeal and cites the case of Mr. Enger and Mary Sutton. [52] In the case of three of these four we know only that they were sentenced. [53] Before the Flower case at Lincoln came the Willimot-Baker cases at Leicester. The Bedford trial resembled much the Northampton trial of the previous year. CHAPTER VI. NOTABLE JACOBEAN CASES. It is possible to sift, to analyze, and to reconstruct the material derived from witch trials until some few conclusions about a given period can be ventured. A large proportion of cases can be proved to belong in this or that category, a certain percentage of the women can be shown to possess these or those traits in common. Yet it is quite thinkable that one might be armed with a quiver full of generalizations, and fail, withal, to comprehend Jacobean witchcraft. If one could have asked information on the subject from a Londoner of 1620, he would probably have heard little about witchcraft in general, but a very great deal about the Lancashire, Northampton, Leicester, Lincoln, and Fairfax trials. The Londoner might have been able to tell the stories complete of all those famous cases. He would have been but poorly informed could he not have related some of them, and the listener would have caught the surface drift of those stories. But a witch panic is a subtle thing, not to be understood by those who do not follow all its deeper sequences. The springs of the movement, the interaction of cause and effect, the operation of personal traits, these are factors that must be evaluated, and they are not factors that can be fitted into a general scheme, labelled and classified. This does not mean that the cases should be examined in chronological sequence. That is not necessary; for the half-dozen cases that we shall run over had little or no cause-and-effect connection with one another. It is convenient, indeed, to make some classification, and the simplest is that by probable origin, especially as it will enable us to emphasize that important feature of the trials. Now, by this method the six or more trials of note may be grouped under three headings: cases that seem to have originated in the actual practice of magic, cases where the victims of convulsions and fits started the furor, and cases that were simply the last stage of bitter quarrels or the result of grudges. To the first group belongs the Lancastrian case of 1612, which, however, may also be classed under the last heading. No case in the course of the superstition in England gained such wide fame. Upon it Shadwell founded in part a well-known play, _The Lancashire Witches_, while poets and writers of prose have referred to it until the two words have been linked in a phrase that has given them lasting association. It was in the lonely forest of Pendle among the wild hills of eastern Lancashire that there lived two hostile families headed by Elizabeth Southerns, or "Old Demdike," and by Anne Chattox. The latter was a wool carder, "a very old, withered, spent, and decreped creature," "her lippes ever chattering"; the former a blind beggar of four-score years, "a generall agent for the Devell in all these partes," and a "wicked fire-brand of mischiefe," who had brought up her children and grandchildren to be witches. Both families professed supernatural practices. Both families no doubt traded on the fear they inspired. Indeed Dame Chattox was said to have sold her guarantee to do no harm in return for a fixed annual payment of "one aghen-dole of meale." That there was a feud between the two clans was to be expected. They were at once neighbors and competitors, and were engaged in a career in which they must plot each against the other, and suspect each other. There are hints of other difficulties. Years before there had been a quarrel over stolen property. Demdike's daughter had missed clothes and food to the value of 20 shillings, and had later found some of the clothing in the possession of Chattox's daughter. A more serious difficulty involved a third family: a member of the Nutter family, well-to-do people in Lancashire, had sought to seduce old Chattox's married daughter, and, when repelled, had warned her that when he inherited the property where she lived she should be evicted. Chattox had retaliated by seeking to kill Nutter by witchcraft, and had been further incited thereto by three women, who wished to be rid of Nutter, in order that "the women, their coosens, might have the land." As a consequence Nutter had died within three months. The quarrel, indeed, was three-cornered. It was said that Demdike's daughter had fashioned a clay picture of a Nutter woman.[1] We have all the elements here of a mountain feud; but, in place of the revolvers and Kentucky moonshine of to-day, we have clay images and Satanic banquets. The battles were to be fought out with imps of Hell as participants and with ammunition supplied by the Evil One himself. It was this connection with a reservoir of untouched demoniacal powers that made the quarrel of the miserable mountaineers the most celebrated incident in Lancashire story. Here were charmers and "inchanters," experienced dealers in magic, struggling against one another. Small wonder that the community became alarmed and that Roger Nowell, justice of the peace, suddenly swooped down upon the Pendle families. It was but a short time before he had four women cooped up in Lancaster castle. In a few days more he was able to get confessions out of them. They admitted acquaintance with the Devil and implicated one another. Now comes the strange part of the story. According to confessions made later, Elizabeth Device, not yet shut up, but likely to be at any time, called a meeting on Good Friday of all the witches in Pendle forest. They were to come to her home at Malking Tower to plot the delivery of the imprisoned women by the blowing up of Lancaster castle.[2] The affair took the form of a dinner; and beef, bacon, and roasted mutton were served. "All the witches went out of the said House in their owne shapes and likenesses. And they all, by that they were forth of the dores, gotten on Horsebacke, like unto Foales, some of one colour, some of another; and Preston's wife was the last; and, when shee got on Horsebacke, they all presently vanished out of ... sight." This was the story, and the various witnesses agreed remarkably well as to its main details. Those who believed in the "sabbath" of witches must have felt their opinions confirmed by the testimony of the witnesses at Lancaster. Even the modern reader, with his skepticism, is somewhat daunted by the cumulative force of what purports to be the evidence and would fain rationalize it by supposing that some sort of a meeting actually did take place at Malking Tower and that some Pendle men and women who had delved in magic arts till they believed in them did formulate plans for revenge. But this is not a probable supposition. The concurring evidence in the Malking Tower story is of no more compelling character than that to be found in a multitude of Continental stories of witch gatherings which have been shown to be the outcome of physical or mental pressure and of leading questions. It seems unnecessary to accept even a substratum of fact.[3] Probably one of the accused women invented the story of the witch feast after the model of others of which she had heard, or developed it under the stimulus of suggestive questions from a justice. Such a narrative, once started, would spread like wildfire and the witnesses and the accused who were persuaded to confess might tell approximately the same story. A careful re-reading of all this evidence suggests that the various testimonies may indeed have been echoes of the first narrative. They seem to lack those characteristic differences which would stamp them as independent accounts. Moreover, when the story was once started, it is not improbable that the justices and the judges would assist the witnesses by framing questions based upon the narrative already given. It cannot be said that the evidence exists upon which to establish this hypothesis. There is little to show that the witnesses were adroitly led into their narratives. But we know from other trials that the method was so often adopted that it is not a far cry to suspect that it was used at Lancaster. It is not worth while to trace out the wearisome details that were elicited by confession. Those already in prison made confessions that implicated others, until the busy justices of the peace had shut up sixteen women and four men to be tried at the assizes. Sir Edward Bromley and Sir James Altham, who were then on the northern circuit, reached Lancaster on the sixteenth of August. In the meantime, "Old Demdike," after a confession of most awful crimes, had died in prison. All the others were put on trial. Thomas Potts compiled a very careful abstract of all the testimony taken, perhaps the most detailed account of a witch trial written in the English language, with the possible exception of the St. Oses affair. The evidence was in truth of a somewhat similar type. Secret interviews with the Evil One, promises of worldly riches, a contract sealed with blood, little shapes of dogs, cats, and hares, clay pictures that had been dried and had crumpled, threats and consequent "languishing" and death, these were the trappings of the stories. The tales were old. Only the Malking Tower incident was new. But its very novelty gave a plausibility to the stories that were woven around it. There was not a single person to interpose a doubt. The cross-examinations were nothing more than feeble attempts to bring out further charges. Though there is in the record little suggestion of the use of pressure to obtain the confessions, the fact that three were retracted leads to a suspicion that they had not been given quite freely. There was doubtless something contagious about the impulse to confess. It is, nevertheless, a curious circumstance that five members of the two rival Pendle families made confession, while all the others whom their confessions had involved stuck to it that they were innocent.[4] Among those who persisted in denying their guilt Alice Nutter merits special note. We have already mentioned her in the last chapter as an example of a well-to-do and well connected woman who fell a victim to the Lancashire excitement.[5] The evidence against the woman was perhaps the flimsiest ever offered to a court. Elizabeth Device, daughter of "Old Demdike," and her two children were the chief accusers. Elizabeth had seen her present at the Malking Tower meeting. Moreover, she stated that Alice had helped her mother ("Old Demdike") bewitch a man to death. Her son had heard his grandmother Demdike narrate the incident. This testimony and his sister's definite statement that Alice Nutter attended the Malking Tower meeting established Mistress Nutter's guilt.[6] The judge, indeed, was "very suspitious of the accusation of this yong wench, Jennet Device," and, as we have already seen, caused her to be sent out of the court room till the accused lady could be placed among other prisoners, when the girl was recalled and required before the great audience present to pick out the witch, as, of course, she easily did, and as easily escaped another transparent trap.[7] The two children figured prominently from this on. The nine-year-old girl gave evidence as to events of three years before, while the young man, who could hardly have been out of his teens,[8] recounted what had happened twelve years earlier. It was their testimony against their mother that roused most interest. Although of a circumstantial character, it fitted in most remarkable fashion into the evidence already presented.[9] The mother, says the nonchalant pamphleteer, indignantly "cryed out against the child," cursing her so outrageously that she was removed from the room while the child kept the stand. It is useless to waste sympathy upon a mother who was getting at the hands of her children the same treatment she had given her own mother Demdike. The Chattox family held together better. Mistress Redfearne had been carefully shielded in the testimony of her mother Chattox, but she fell a victim to the accusations of the opposing family. The course of her trial was remarkable. Denying her guilt with great emphasis, she had by some wonder been acquitted. But this verdict displeased the people in attendance upon the trial. Induced by the cries of the people, the court was persuaded to try her again. The charge against her was exactly the same, that eighteen years before she had participated in killing Christopher Nutter with a clay figure. "Old Demdike" had seen her in the act of making the image, and there was offered also the testimony of the sister and brother of the dead man, who recalled that Robert Nutter on his death-bed had accused Anne of his bewitchment.[10] It does not seem to have occurred to the court that the principle that a person could not twice be put in jeopardy for the same offence was already an old principle in English law.[11] The judges were more concerned with appeasing the people than with recalling old precedents, and sent the woman to the gallows. The Pendle cases were interrupted on the third day by the trial of three women from Salmesbury, who pleaded not guilty and put themselves "upon God and their Countrey." The case against them rested upon the testimony of a single young woman, Grace Sowerbutts, who declared that for the three years past she had been vexed by the women in question, who "did violently draw her by the haire of the head, and layd her on the toppe of a Hay-mowe." This delightfully absurd charge was coupled with some testimony about the appearances of the accused in animal form. Three men attempted to bolster up the story; but no "matter of witchcraft" was proved, says the for once incredulous Mr. Potts. The women seized the decisive moment. They kneeled before the judge and requested him to examine Grace Sowerbutts as to who set her on. The judge--who had seemingly not thought of this before--followed the suggestion. The girl changed countenance and acknowledged that she had been taught her story. At the order of the judge she was questioned by a clergyman and two justices of the peace, who found that she had been coached to tell her story by a Master Thompson, alias Southworth, a "seminarie priest." So ended the charges against the Salmesbury witches. One would suppose that this verdict might have turned the tide in the other cases. But the evidence, as Potts is careful to show, lest the reader should draw a wrong conclusion, was of very different character in the other trials. They were all finished on the third day of court and turned over to the jury. Five of the accused, exclusive of those at Salmesbury, were acquitted, one condemned to a year's imprisonment, and ten sentenced to death. To this number should be added Jennet Preston, who had in the preceding month been tried at York for the killing of a Mr. Lister, and who was named by the Lancaster witnesses as one of the gang at Malking Tower. So ended the Lancashire trials of 1612. The most remarkable event of the sort in James's reign, they were clearly the outcome of his writings and policy. Potts asks pointedly: "What hath the King's Maiestie written and published in his Dæmonologie by way of premonition and prevention, which hath not here by the first or last beene executed, put in practice, or discovered?" Our second group of cases includes those where convulsive and "possessed" persons had started the alarm. The Northampton, Leicester, and Lichfield cases were all instances in point. The last two, however, may be omitted here because they will come up in another connection. The affair at Northampton in 1612, just a month earlier than the Lancashire affair, merits notice. Elizabeth Belcher and her brother, "Master Avery," were the disturbing agents. Mistress Belcher had long been suffering with an illness that baffled diagnosis. It was suggested to her that the cause was witchcraft. A list of women reputed to be witches was repeated to her. The name of Joan Brown seemed to impress her. "Hath shee done it?" she asked.[12] The name was repeated to her and from that time she held Joan guilty.[13] Joan and her mother were shut up. Meantime Master Avery began to take fits and to aid his sister in making accusation. Between them they soon had accused six women for their afflictions. The stir brought to the surface the hidden suspicions of others. There was a witch panic and the justices of the peace[14] scurried hither and thither till they had fourteen witches locked up in Northampton. When the trial came off at Northampton, Master Avery was the hero. He re-enacted the rôle of the Throckmorton children at Warboys with great success. When he came to court--he came in a "coch"--he was at once stricken with convulsions. His torments in court were very convincing. It is pleasant to know that when he came out of his seizure he would talk very "discreetly, christianly, and charitably." Master Avery was versatile, however. His evidence against the women rested by no means alone on his seizures. He had countless apparitions in which he saw the accused;[15] he had been mysteriously thrown from a horse; strangest of all, he had foretold at a certain time that if any one should go down to the gaol and listen to the voices of the witches, he could not understand a word. Whereupon a Master of Arts of Trinity College, Oxford, went off to the prison at the uncanny hour of two in the morning and "heard a confused noise of much chattering and chiding, but could not discover a ready word." Master Avery had a great deal more to tell, but the jury seem not to have fully credited him.[16] They convicted Joan Brown and her mother, however, on the charges of Elizabeth and her brother. Three others were found guilty upon other counts. None of them, so far as the records go, and the records were careful on this point, admitted any guilt.[17] The one young man among those who were hanged bitterly resisted his conviction from the beginning and died declaring that authority had turned to tyranny. He might well feel so. His father and mother had both been tortured by the water ordeal, and his mother had been worried till she committed suicide in prison. This brings us to the third sort of cases, those that were the outcome of quarrels or grudges. It has already been observed that the Lancashire affair could very well be reckoned under this heading. It is no exaggeration to say that a goodly percentage of all other witch trials in the reign of James could be classified in the same way. Most notable among them was the famous trial of the Belvoir witches at Lincoln in 1618-1619. The trial has received wide notice because it concerned a leading family--perhaps the wealthiest in England--the great Catholic family of Manners, of which the Earl of Rutland was head. The effort to account for the mysterious illness of his young heir and for that which had a few years earlier carried off the boy's elder brother led to a charge of witchcraft against three humble women of the neighborhood. The Rutland affair shows how easily a suspicion of witchcraft might involve the fortunes of the lowly with those of the great. Joan Flower and her two daughters had been employed as charwomen in Belvoir Castle, the home of the Rutlands. One of the daughters, indeed, had been put in charge of "the poultrey abroad and the washhouse within dores." But this daughter seems not to have given satisfaction to the countess in her work, some other causes of disagreement arose which involved Mother Flower, and both Mother Flower and her daughter were sent away from the castle. This was the beginning of the trouble. Mother Flower "cursed them all that were the cause of this discontentment." Naturally little heed was paid to her grumblings. Such things were common enough and it did not even occur to any one, when the eldest son of the earl sickened and died, that the event was in any way connected with the malice of the Flowers. It was not until about five years later, when the younger son Francis fell sick of an illness to prove fatal, that suspicion seems to have lighted upon the three women.[18] The circumstances that led to their discharge were then recalled and along with them a mass of idle gossip and scandal against the women. It was remembered that Mother Joan was "a monstrous malicious woman, full of oathes, curses, and imprecations irreligious." Some of her neighbors "dared to affirme that she dealt with familiar spirits, and terrified them all with curses and threatning of revenge." At length, in February of 1618/19, on the return of the earl from attending His Majesty "both at Newmarket before Christmas and at Christmas at Whitehall," the women were fetched before justices of the peace, who bound them over to the assizes at Lincoln. Mother Flower died on the way to Lincoln, but the two daughters were tried there before Sir Edward Bromley, who had been judge at the Lancashire trials, and before Sir Henry Hobart. The women made a detailed confession of weird crimes. There were tales of gloves belonging to the two young sons of the earl, gloves that had been found in uncanny places and had been put in hot water and rubbed upon Rutterkin the cat--or spirit. There were worse stories that will not bear repetition. Needless to say, Margaret and Philippa Flower were convicted and hanged.[19] The Rutland cases have been used to illustrate how the witch accusation might arise out of a grudge or quarrel. There were three or four other cases that illustrate this origin of the charge. The first is that of Johanna Harrison--she has been mentioned in the previous chapter--who had an "altercation" with a neighbor. Of course she threatened him, he fell ill, and he scratched her.[20] But here the commonplace tale takes a new turn. She had him arrested and was awarded five shillings damages and her costs of suit. No wonder the man fell sick again. Perhaps--but this cannot be certain--it was the same man who was drinking his ale one day with his fellows when she entered and stood "gloating" over him. He turned and said, "Doe you heare, Witch, looke tother waies." The woman berated him with angry words, and, feeling ill the next morning--he had been drinking heavily the night before--he dragged her off to the justice. A few weeks later she and her daughter were hanged at Hertford.[21] The story of Mother Sutton and Master Enger has been referred to in several connections, but it will bear telling in narrative form. Mother Sutton was a poor tenant of Master Enger's, "a gentleman of worship," who often bestowed upon her "food and cloathes." On account of her want she had been chosen village "hog-heard," and had for twenty years fulfilled the duties of her office "not without commendations." But it happened that she quarreled one day with her benefactor, and then his difficulties began. The tale is almost too trivial for repetition, but is nevertheless characteristic. Master Enger's servants were taking some corn to market, when they met "a faire black sowe" grazing. The wayward beast began turning round "as readily as a Windmill sail at worke; and as sodainly their horses fell to starting and drawing some one way, some another." They started off with the cart of corn, but broke from it and ran away. The servants caught them and went on to Bedford with the load. But the sow followed. When the corn had been sold, one of the servants went home, the other stayed with his "boone companions." When he rode home later, he found the sow grazing outside of town. It ran by his side, and the horses ran away again. But the servants watched the sow and saw it enter Mother Sutton's house. Master Enger made light of the story when it was told to him, and, with remarkable insight for a character in a witch story, "supposed they were drunke." But a few days later the same servant fell into conversation with Mother Sutton, when a beetle came and struck him. He fell into a trance, and then went home and told his master. The next night the servant said that Mary Sutton entered his room--the vision we have already described.[22] The rest of the story the reader knows from the last chapter. Mother Sutton and her daughter were put to various ordeals and at length hanged. Doubtless the imaginative servant, who had in some way, perhaps, been involved in the original quarrel, gained favor with his master, and standing in the community.[23] The tale of the Bakewell witches is a very curious one and, though not to be confidently depended upon, may suggest how it was possible to avail oneself of superstition in order to repay a grudge. A Scotchman staying at a lodging-house in Bakewell fell in debt to his landlady, who retained some of his clothes as security. He went to London, concealed himself in a cellar, and was there found by a watchman, who arrested him for being in an unoccupied house with felonious intent. He professed to be dazed and declared that he was at Bakewell in Derbyshire at three o'clock that morning. He explained it by the fact that he had repeated certain words which he had heard his lodging-house keeper and her sister say. The judge was amazed, the man's depositions were taken down, and he was sent to the justices of Derby. All that we really know about the Bakewell affair is that several witches probably suffered death there in 1607. A local antiquarian has given this tale of how the alarm started.[24] While it is unlike any other narrative of witchcraft, it is not necessarily without foundation. The reader has doubtless observed that the cases which we have been describing occurred, all of them with one exception, between 1603 and 1619. In discussing the matter of the distribution of witchcraft in the last chapter we noted that not only executions for the crime, but even accusations and indictments, were nearly altogether limited to the first fifteen years of James's rule. If it is true that there was a rather sudden falling off of prosecution in the reign of the zealous James, the fact merits explanation. Fortunately the explanation is not far to seek. The king's faith in the verity of many of the charges made against witches had been rudely shaken. As a matter of fact there had always been a grain of skepticism in his make-up. This had come out even before he entered England. In 1597 he had become alarmed at the spread of trials in Scotland and had revoked all the commissions then in force for the trial of the offence.[25] At the very time when he became king of England, there were special circumstances that must have had weight with him. Throughout the last years of Elizabeth's reign there had been, as we have seen, a morbid interest in demoniacal possession, an interest to which sensation-mongers were quickly minded to respond. We saw that at the end of the sixteenth century the Anglican church stepped in to put down the exorcizing of spirits,[26] largely perhaps because it had been carried on by Catholics and by a Puritan clergyman. Yet neither Harsnett's book nor Darrel's imprisonment quite availed to end a practice which offered at all times to all comers a path to notoriety. James had not been on the English throne a year when he became interested in a case of this kind. Mary Glover, a girl alleged to have been bewitched by a Mother Jackson, was at the king's wish examined by a skilled physician, Dr. Edward Jorden, who recognized her fits as disease, brought the girl to a confession, published an account of the matter, and so saved the life of the woman whom she had accused.[27] In the very next year there was a case at Cambridge that gained royal notice. It is not easy to straighten out the facts from the letters on the matter, but it seems that two Cambridge maids had a curious disease suggesting bewitchment.[28] A Franciscan and a Puritan clergyman were, along with others, suspected. The matter was at once referred to the king and the government. James directed that examinations be made and reported to him. This was done. James wormed out of the "principal" some admission of former dealing with conjuration, but turned the whole thing over to the courts, where it seems later to have been established that the disease of the bewitched maidens was "naturall." These were but the first of several impostures that interested the king. A girl at Windsor, another in Hertfordshire, were possessed by the Devil,[29] two maids at Westminster were "in raptures from the Virgin Mary and Michael the Archangel,"[30] a priest of Leicestershire was "possessed of the Blessed Trinity."[31] Such cases--not to mention the Grace Sowerbutts confessions at Lancaster that were like to end so tragically--were the excrescences of an intensely religious age. The reader of early colonial diaries in America will recognize the resemblance of these to the wonders they report. James took such with extreme seriousness.[32] The possessed person was summoned to court for exhibition, or the king went out of his way to see him. It is a matter of common information that James prided himself on his cleverness. Having succeeded in detecting certain frauds, he became an expert detective. In one instance "he ordered it so that a proper courtier made love to one of these bewitched maids"[33] and soon got her over her troubles. In another case a woman "strangely affected" by the first verse of John's Gospel failed to recognize it when read in Greek,[34] proof positive that the omniscient Devil did not possess her. Three instances of exposure of imposture were most notable, those of Grace Sowerbutts, the boy at Leicester, and the "Boy of Bilston." The first of these has already been sufficiently discussed in connection with the Lancashire trials. The second had nothing remarkable about it. A twelve or thirteen-year-old boy had fits which he said were caused by spirits sent by several women whom he accused as witches. Nine women were hanged, while six more were under arrest and would probably have met the same end, had not the king in his northward progress, while stopping at Leicester, detected the shamming.[35] Whether or no the boy was punished we are not told. It is some satisfaction that the judges were disgraced.[36] The boy of Bilston was, if Webster may be believed,[37] the most famous, if not the most successful, fraud of all. The case was heralded over the entire realm and thousands came to see. The story is almost an exact duplicate of earlier narratives of possession. A thirteen-year-old boy of Bilston in Staffordshire, William Perry, began to have fits and to accuse a Jane Clarke, whose presence invariably made him worse. He "cast out of his mouth rags, thred, straw, crooked pins." These were but single deceptions in a repertoire of varied tricks. Doubtless he had been trained in his rôle by a Roman priest. At any rate the Catholics tried exorcism upon him, but to no purpose. Perhaps some Puritans experimented with cures which had like result.[38] The boy continued his spasms and his charges against the witch and she was brought into court at the July assizes. But Bishop Morton,[39] before whose chancellor the boy had first been brought, was present, and the judges turned the boy over to him for further investigation.[40] Then, with the help of his secretary, he set about to test the boy, and readily exposed his deception--in most curious fashion too. The boy, like one we have met before, could not endure the first verse of John's Gospel, but failed to recognize it when read in the Greek. After that he was secretly watched and his somewhat elaborate preparations for his pretences were found out. He was persuaded to confess his trickery in court before Sir Peter Warburton and Sir Humphrey Winch, "and the face of the County and Country there assembled,"[41] as well as to beg forgiveness of the women whom he had accused. It will be seen that the records of imposture were well on their way to rival the records of witchcraft, if not in numbers, at least in the notice that they received. And the king who had so bitterly arraigned Reginald Scot was himself becoming the discoverer-general of England.[42] It is not, then, without being forewarned that we read Fuller's remarkable statement about the king's change of heart. "The frequency of such forged possessions wrought such an alteration upon the judgement of King James that he, receding from what he had written in his 'Dæmonology,' grew first diffident of, and then flatly to deny, the workings of witches and devils, as but falsehoods and delusions."[43] In immediate connection with this must be quoted what Francis Osborne has to say.[44] He was told, he writes, that the king would have gone as far as to deny any such operations, but out of reasons of state and to gratify the church.[45] Such a conversion is so remarkable that we could wish we had absolutely contemporary statements of it. As a matter of fact, the statements we have quoted establish nothing more than a probability, but they certainly do establish that. Fuller, the church historian, responsible for the first of the two statements, was a student in Queen's College[46] at Cambridge during the last four years of James's reign; Osborne was a man of thirty-two when the king died, and had spent a part of his young manhood at the court. Their testimony was that of men who had every opportunity to know about the king's change of opinion.[47] In the absence of any evidence to the contrary, we must accept, at least provisionally, their statements.[48] And it is easier to do so in view of the marked falling off of prosecutions that we have already noted. This indeed is confirmation of a negative sort; but we have one interesting bit of affirmative proof, the outcome of the trials at York in 1622. In that year the children of Mr. Edward Fairfax, a member of the historic Fairfax family of Yorkshire, were seized with some strange illness, in which they saw again and again the spectres of six different women. These women were examined by the justices of the peace and committed to the assizes.[49] In the mean time they had found able and vigorous defenders in the community. What happened at the April assizes we no not know, but we know that four of the women were released, two of them on bond.[50] This was probably a compromise method of settling the matter. Fairfax was not satisfied. Probably through his influence the women were again brought up at the August assizes.[51] Then, at least, as we know beyond a doubt, they were formally tried, this time upon indictments preferred by Fairfax himself.[52] The judge warned the jury to be very careful, and, after hearing some of the evidence, dismissed the women on the ground that the evidence "reached not to the point of the statute."[53] This seems significant. A man of a well known county family was utterly baffled in pressing charges in a case where his own children were involved.[54] It looks as if there were judges who were following the king's lead in looking out for imposture.[55] In any case there was, in certain quarters, a public sentiment against the conviction of witches, a sentiment that made itself felt. This we shall have occasion to note again in following out the currents and fluctuations of opinions. [1] Of course the proof that some of the accused really made pretensions to magic rests upon their own confessions and their accusations of one another, and might be a part of an intricate tissue of falsehood. But, granting for the moment the absolute untrustworthiness of the confessions and accusations there are incidental statements which imply the practice of magic. For example, Elizabeth Device's young daughter quoted a long charm which she said her mother had taught her and which she hardly invented on the spur of the moment. And Demdike was requested to "amend a sick cow." [2] The gunpowder plot, seven years earlier, no doubt gave direction to this plan, or, perhaps it would be better to say, gave the idea to those who confessed the plan. [3] James Crossley seems to believe that there was "some scintilla of truth" behind the story. See his edition of Potts, notes, p. 40. [4] Among those who never confessed seems to have been Chattox's daughter, Anne Redfearne. [5] See above, p. 116. [6] It is a satisfaction to know that Alice died "impenitent," and that not even her children could "move her to confesse." [7] See above, pp. 112-113, and Potts, Q-Q verso. [8] See Potts, I. [9] It can hardly be doubted that the children had been thoroughly primed with the stories in circulation against their mother. [10] Other witnesses charged her with "many strange practises." [11] The principle that a man's life may not twice be put in jeopardy for the same offence had been pretty well established before 1612. See Darly's Case, 25 Eliz. (1583), Coke's _Reports_ (ed. Thomas and Fraser, London, 1826), IV, f. 40; Vaux's Case, 33 Eliz. (1591), _ibid._, f. 45; Wrote _vs._ Wiggs, 33 Eliz. (1591), _ibid._, f. 47. This principle had been in process of development for several centuries. See Bracton (ed. Sir Travers Twiss, London, 1878-1883), II, 417, 433, 437; Britton (ed. F. M. Nichols, Oxford, 1865), bk. I, cap. xxiv, 5, f. 44 b. It must be noted, however, that the statute of 3 Hen. VII, cap. II, provides that indictments shall be proceeded in, immediately, at the king's suit, for the death of a man, without waiting for bringing an appeal; and that the plea of _antefort acquit_ in an indictment shall be no bar to the prosecuting of an appeal. This law was passed to get around special legal inconvenience and related only to homicide and to the single case of prosecution by appeal. In general, then, we may say that the former-jeopardy doctrine was part of the common law, (1) an appeal of felony being a bar to subsequent appeal or indictment, (2) an indictment a bar to a subsequent indictment, and (3) an indictment to a subsequent appeal, except so far as the statute of 3 Hen. VII., cap. II, changed the law as respects homicides. For this brief statement I am indebted to Professor William Underhill Moore of the University of Wisconsin. What Potts has to say about Anne Redfearne's case hardly enables us to reach a conclusion about the legal aspect of it. [12] This is the story in the MS. account (Brit. Mus., Sloane, 972). The printed narrative of the origin of the affair is somewhat different. Joan had on one occasion been struck by Mistress Belcher for unbecoming behavior and had cherished a grudge. No doubt this was a point recalled against Joan after suspicion had been directed against her. [13] In John Cotta's _The Triall of Witchcraft ..._ (London, 1616), 66-67, there is a very interesting statement which probably refers to this case. Cotta, it will be remembered, was a physician at Northampton. He wrote: "There is a very rare, but true, description of a Gentlewoman, about sixe yeares past, cured of divers kinds of convulsions, ... After she was almost cured, ... but the cure not fully accomplished, it was by a reputed Wisard whispered ... that the Gentlewoman was meerely bewitched, supposed Witches were accused and after executed.... In this last past seventh yeare ... fits are critically again returned." Cotta says six years ago and the Northampton trials were in 1612, four years before. It is quite possible, however, that Mistress Belcher began to be afflicted in 1610. [14] One of these was Sir Gilbert Pickering of Tichmarsh, almost certainly the Gilbert Pickering mentioned as an uncle of the Throckmorton children at Warboys. See above, pp. 47-48. His hatred of witches had no doubt been increased by that affair. [15] See what is said of spectral evidence in chapter V, above. [16] At least there is no evidence that Alice Abbott, Catherine Gardiner, and Alice Harris, whom he accused, were punished in any way. [17] It seems, however, that Arthur Bill, while he sturdily denied guilt, had been before trapped into some sort of an admission. He had "unawares confest that he had certaine spirits at command." But this may mean nothing more than that something he had said had been grossly misinterpreted. [18] Three women of Leicestershire, Anne Baker, Joan Willimot, and Ellen Greene, who in their confessions implicated the Flowers (they belonged to parishes neighbor to that of Belvoir, which lies on the shire border) and whose testimony against them figured in their trials, were at the same time (Feb.-March, 1618/19) under examination in that county. Whether these women were authors or victims of the Belvoir suspicions we do not know. As we have their damning confessions, there is small doubt as to their fate. [19] The women were tried in March, 1618/19. Henry, the elder son of the earl, was buried at Bottesford, September 26, 1613. John Nichols, _History and Antiquities of the County of Leicester_ (London, 1795-1815), II, pt. i, 49, note 10. Francis, the second, lingered till early in 1620. His sister, Lady Katherine, whose delicate health had also been ascribed to the witches, was now the heiress, and became in that year the bride of Buckingham, the king's favorite. There is one aspect of this affair that must not be overlooked. The accusation against the Flowers cannot have been unknown to the king, who was a frequent visitor at the seat of the Rutlands. It is hard to believe that under such circumstances the use of torture, which James had declared essential to bring out the guilt of the accused witches, was not after some fashion resorted to. The weird and uncanny confessions go far towards supporting such an hypothesis. [20] _The Most Cruell and Bloody Murther committed by ... Annis Dell, ... with the severall Witch-crafts ... of one Johane Harrison and her Daughter_, 63. [21] This story must be accepted with hesitation; see below, appendix A, §3. [22] See above, pp. 110-111. [23] The trial of Elizabeth Sawyer at Edmonton in 1621 had to do with similar trivialities. Agnes Ratcliffe was washing one day, when a sow belonging to Elizabeth licked up a bit of her washing soap. She struck it with a "washing beetle." Of course she fell sick, and on her death-bed accused Mistress Elizabeth Sawyer, who was afterwards hanged. [24] See T. Tindall Wildridge, in William Andrews, _Bygone Derbyshire_ (Derby, 1892), 180-184. It has been impossible to locate the sources of this story. J. Charles Cox, who explored the Derby records, seems never to have discovered anything about the affair. [25] See F. Legge, "Witchcraft in Scotland," in the _Scottish Review_, XVIII, 264. [26] See above, ch. IV, especially note 36. [27] On Mary Glover see also appendix A, § 2. On other impostures see Thomas Fuller, _Church History of Britain_ (London, 1655; Oxford, ed. J. S. Brewer, 1845), ed. of 1845, V, 450; letters given by Edmund Lodge, _Illustrations of British History, Biography and Manners ..._ (London, 1791), III, 275, 284, 287-288; also _King James, His Apothegms, by B. A., Gent._ (London, 1643), 8-10. [28] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1603-1610_, 218. [29] Fuller, _op. cit._, V, 450. [30] _Ibid._; John Gee, _The Foot out of the Snare, or Detection of Practices and Impostures of Priests and Jesuits in England ..._ (London, 1624), reprinted in _Somers Tracts_, III, 72. [31] _Ibid._; Fuller, _op. cit._, V, 450. [32] How much more seriously than his courtiers is suggested by an anecdote of Sir John Harington's: James gravely questioned Sir John why the Devil did work more with ancient women than with others. "We are taught thereof in Scripture," gaily answered Sir John, "where it is told that the Devil walketh in dry places." See his _Nugæ Antiquæ_ (London, 1769), ed. of London, 1804, I, 368-369. [33] Fuller, _op. cit._, V, 451. [34] _Ibid._ [35] The story of the hangings at Leicester in 1616 has to be put together from various sources. Our principal authority, however, is in two letters written by Robert Heyrick of Leicester to his brother William in 1616, which are to be found in John Nichols, _History and Antiquities of the County of Leicester_ (London, 1795-1815), II, pt. ii, 471, and in the _Annual Register_ for 1800. See also William Kelly, _Royal Progresses to Leicester_ (Leicester, 1884), 367-369. Probably this is the case referred to by Francis Osborne, where the boy was sent to the Archbishop of Canterbury for further examination. Osborne, who wrote a good deal later than the events, apparently confused the story of the Leicester witches with that of the Boy of Bilston--their origins were similar--and produced a strange account; see his _Miscellany of Sundry Essays, Paradoxes and Problematicall Discourses_ (London, 1658-1659), 6-9. [36] For the disgrace of the judges see _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1611-1618_, 398. [37] Webster knew Bishop Morton, and also his secretary, Baddeley, who had been notary in the case and had written an account of it. See John Webster, _The Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_ (London, 1677), 275. [38] The Catholics declared that the Puritans tried "syllabub" upon him. This was perhaps a sarcastic reference to their attempts to cure him by medicine. [39] Then of Lichfield. [40] Baddeley, who was Bishop Morton's secretary and who prepared the narrative of the affair for the printer, says that the woman was freed by the inquest; Ryc. Baddeley, _The Boy of Bilson ..._ (London, 1622), 61. Arthur Wilson, who tells us that he heard the story "from the Bishop's own mouth almost thirty years before it was inserted here," says that the woman was found guilty and condemned to die; Arthur Wilson, _Life and Reign of James I_ (London, 1653), 107. It is evident that Baddeley's story is the more trustworthy. It is of course possible, although not probable, that there were two trials, and that Baddeley ignored the second one, the outcome of which would have been less creditable to the bishop. [41] Webster, _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 275. [42] See Fairfax, _A Discourse of Witchcraft_ (Philobiblon Soc.): "and those whose impostures our wise King so lately laid open." See also an interesting letter from James himself in J. O. Halliwell, _Letters of the Kings of England_ (London, 1846), II, 124-125. [43] Fuller, _Church History of Britain_, V, 452 (ch. X, sect. 4). It is worthy of note that Peter Heylyn, who, in his _Examen Historicum_ (London, 1659), sought to pick Fuller to pieces, does not mention this point. [44] See Francis Osborne, _Miscellany_, 4-9. Lucy Aikin, _Memoirs of the Court of King James the First_ (London, 1823), II, 398-399, gives about the same story as Fuller and Osborne, and, while the wording is slightly different, it is probable that they were her sources. [45] Arthur Wilson, _op. cit._, 111, tells us: "The King took delight by the line of his reason to sound the depth of such brutish impostors, and he discovered many." A writer to the _Gentleman's Magazine_ (LIV, pt. I, 246-247), in 1784, says that he has somewhere read that King James on his death-bed acknowledged that he had been deceived in his opinion respecting witchcraft and expressed his concern that so many innocent persons had suffered on that account. But, as he has forgotten where he read it, his evidence is of course of small value. [46] The college where an annual sermon was preached on the subject of witchcraft since the Warboys affair. [47] Osborne's statement should perhaps be discounted a little on account of his skepticism. On the other hand he was not such an admirer of James I as to have given him undue credit. Fuller's opinion was divided. [48] James still believed in witchcraft in 1613, when the malodorous divorce trial of Lady Essex took place. A careful reading of his words at that time, however, leaves the impression that he was not nearly so certain about the possibilities of witchcraft as he had been when he wrote his book. His position was clearly defensive. It must be remembered that James in 1613 had a point to be gained and would not have allowed a possible doubt as to witchcraft to interfere with his wish for the divorce. See Howell, _State Trials_, II, 806. [49] One of them was publicly searched by command of a justice. See Fairfax, _op. cit._, 138-139. [50] _Ibid._, 205. Two of the women had gone home before, _ibid._, 180. [51] _Ibid._, 225-234. [52] _Ibid._, 234. [53] _Ibid._, 237-238. If the women were tried twice, it seems a clear violation of the principle of former jeopardy. See above, note 11. The statute of 3 Hen. VII, cap. I, that the plea of _antefort acquit_ was no bar to the prosecution of an appeal, would not apply in this instance, as that statute was limited to cases of _homicide_. [54] Fairfax was moreover a man for whom the king had a high personal regard. [55] At the August assizes there had been an effort to show that the children were "counterfeiting." See the _Discourse_, 235-237. CHAPTER VII. THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES AND CHARLES I. In his attitude towards superstition, Charles I resembled the later rather than the earlier James I. No reign up to the Revolution was marked by so few executions. It was a time of comparative quiet. Here and there isolated murmurs against suspected creatures of the Devil roused the justices of the peace to write letters, and even to make inquiries that as often as not resulted in indefinite commitments, or brought out the protests of neighbors in favor of the accused. But, if there were not many cases, they represented a wide area. Middlesex, Wilts, Somerset, Leicestershire, Staffordshire, Lancashire, Durham, Yorkshire, and Northumberland were among the counties infested. Yet we can count but six executions, and only four of them rest upon secure evidence.[1] This is of course to reckon the reign of Charles as not extending beyond 1642, when the Civil War broke out and the Puritan leaders assumed responsibility for the government. Up to that time there was but one really notable witch alarm in England. But it was one that illustrated again, as in Essex, the continuity of the superstition in a given locality. The Lancashire witches of 1633 were the direct outcome of the Lancashire witches of 1612. The story is a weird one. An eleven-year-old boy played truant one day to his cattle-herding, and, as he afterwards told the story, went plum-gathering. When he came back he had to find a plausible excuse to present to his parents. Now, the lad had been brought up in the Blackburn forest, close to Pendle Hill; he had overheard stories of Malking Tower[2] from the chatter of gossipping women;[3] he had shivered as suspected women were pointed out to him; he knew the names of some of them. His imagination, in search for an excuse, caught at the witch motive[4] and elaborated it with the easy invention of youth.[5] He had seen two greyhounds come running towards him. They looked like those owned by two of his neighbors. When he saw that no one was following them, he set out to hunt with them, and presently a hare rose very near before him, at the sight whereof he cried "Loo, Loo," but the dogs would not run. Being very angry, he tied them to a little bush in the hedge and beat them, and at once, instead of the black greyhound, "one Dickonson's wife" stood up, and instead of the brown greyhound "a little boy whom this informer knoweth not." He started to run away, but the woman stayed him and offered him a piece of silver "much like to a faire shillinge" if he would not betray her. The conscientious boy answered "Nay, thou art a witch," "whereupon shee put her hand into her pocket againe and pulled out a stringe like unto a bridle that gingled, which shee put upon the litle boyes heade that stood up in the browne greyhounds steade, whereupon the said boy stood up a white horse." In true Arabian Nights fashion they mounted and rode away. They came to a new house called Hoarstones, where there were three score or more people, and horses of several colors, and a fire with meat roasting. They had flesh and bread upon a trencher and they drank from glasses. After the first taste the boy "refused and would have noe more, and said it was nought." There were other refreshments at the feast. The boy was, as he afterwards confessed, familiar with the story of the feast at Malking Tower.[6] The names of those present he did not volunteer at first; but, on being questioned, he named eighteen[7] whom he had seen. The boy confessed that he had been clever enough to make most of his list from those who were already suspected by their neighbors. It needed but a match to set off the flame of witch-hatred in Lancashire. The boy's story was quite sufficient. Whether his narrative was a spontaneous invention of his own, concocted in emergency, as he asserted in his confession at London, or whether it was a carefully constructed lie taught him by his father in order to revenge himself upon some hated neighbors, and perhaps to exact blackmail, as some of the accused later charged, we shall never know. In later life the boy is said to have admitted that he had been set on by his father,[8] but the narrative possesses certain earmarks of a story struck out by a child's imagination.[9] It is easy enough to reconcile the two theories by supposing that the boy started the story of his own initiative and that his father was too shrewd not to realize the opportunity to make a sensation and perhaps some money. He took the boy before justices of the peace, who, with the zeal their predecessors had displayed twenty-two years before, made many arrests.[10] The boy was exhibited from town to town in Lancashire as a great wonder and witch-detector. It was in the course of these exhibitions that he was brought to a little town on the Lancashire border of Yorkshire and was taken to the afternoon church service, where a young minister, who was long afterwards to become a famous opponent of the superstition, was discoursing to his congregation. The boy was held up by those in charge as if to give him the chance to detect witches among the audience. The minister saw him, and at the end of the service at once came down to the boy, and without parley asked him, "Good boy, tell me truly, and in earnest, didst thou see and hear such things of the meeting of the witches as is reported by many that thou dost relate?" The boy, as Webster has told the story, was not given time for reply by the men in charge of him, who protested against such questions. The lad, they said, had been before two justices of the peace, and had not been catechized in that fashion.[11] A lone skeptic had little chance to beat back the wave of excitement created by the young Robinson's stories. His success prompted him to concoct new tales.[12] He had seen Lloynd's wife sitting on a cross-bar in his father's chimney; he had called to her; she had not come down but had vanished in the air. Other accounts the boy gave, but none of them revealed the clear invention of his first narrative. He had done his work. The justices of the peace were bringing in the accused to the assizes at Lancaster. There Robinson was once more called upon to render his now famous testimony. He was supported by his father,[13] who gave evidence that on the day he had sent his boy for the cattle he had gone after him and as he approached had heard him cry and had found him quite "distracted." When the boy recovered himself, he had related the story already told. This was the evidence of the father, and together with that of the son it constituted the most telling piece of testimony presented. But it served, as was usual in such cases, as an opening for all those who, for any reason, thought they had grounds of suspicion against any of their neighbors. It was recalled by one witness that a neighbor girl could bewitch a pail and make it roll towards her. We shall later have occasion to note the basis of fact behind this curious accusation. There was other testimony of an equally damaging character. But in nearly all the cases stress was laid upon the bodily marks. In one instance, indeed, nothing else was charged.[14] The reader will remember that in the Lancaster cases of 1612 the evidence of marks on the body was notably absent, so notably that we were led to suspect that it had been ruled out by the judge. That such evidence was now reckoned important is proof that this particularly dark feature of the witch superstition was receiving increasing emphasis. How many in all were accused we do not know. Webster, writing later, said that seventeen were found guilty.[15] It is possible that even a larger number were acquitted. Certainly some were acquitted. A distinction of some sort was made in the evidence. This makes it all the harder to understand why the truth of Robinson's stories was not tested in the same way in which those of Grace Sowerbutts had been tested in 1612. Did that detection of fraud never occur to the judges, or had they never heard of the famous boy at Bilston? Perhaps not they but the juries were to blame, for it seems that the court was not altogether satisfied with the jury's verdict and delayed sentence. Perhaps, indeed, the judges wrote to London about the matter. Be that as it may, the privy council decided to take cognizance of an affair that was already the talk of the realm.[16] Secretaries Coke and Windebank sent instructions to Henry Bridgeman, Bishop of Chester and successor to that Morton who had exposed the boy of Bilston, to examine seven of the condemned witches and to make a report.[17] Bridgeman doubtless knew of his predecessor's success in exposing fraudulent accusations. Before the bishop was ready to report, His Majesty sent orders that three or four of the accused should be brought up to London by a writ of habeas corpus. Owing to a neglect to insert definite names, there was a delay.[18] It was during this interval, probably, that Bishop Bridgeman was able to make his examination. He found three of the seven already dead and one hopelessly ill. The other three he questioned with great care. Two of them, Mary Spencer, a girl of twenty, and Frances Dickonson, the first whom Robinson had accused, made spirited denials. Mary Spencer avowed that her accusers had been actuated by malice against her and her parents for several years. At the trial, she had been unable, she said, to answer for herself, because the noise of the crowd had been so great as to prevent her from hearing the evidence against her. As for the charge of bewitching a pail so that it came running towards her of its own accord, she declared that she used as a child to roll a pail down-hill and to call it after her as she ran, a perfectly natural piece of child's play. Frances Dickonson, too, charged malice upon her accusers, especially upon the father of Edmund Robinson. Her husband, she said, had been unwilling to sell him a cow without surety and had so gained his ill-will. She went on to assert that the elder Robinson had volunteered to withdraw the charges against her if her husband would pay him forty shillings. This counter charge was supported by another witness and seemed to make a good deal of an impression on the ecclesiastic. The third woman to be examined by the bishop was a widow of sixty, who had not been numbered among the original seventeen witches. She acknowledged that she was a witch, but was, wrote the bishop, "more often faulting in the particulars of her actions as one having a strong imagination of the former, but of too weak a memory to retain or relate the latter." The woman told a commonplace story of a man in black attire who had come to her six years before and made the usual contract. But very curiously she could name only one other witch, and professed to know none of those already in gaol. Such were the results of the examinations sent in by the bishop. In the letter which he sent along, he expressed doubt about the whole matter. "Conceit and malice," he wrote, "are so powerful with many in those parts that they will easily afford an oath to work revenge upon their neighbour." He would, he intimated, have gone further in examining the counter charges brought by the accused, had it not been that he hesitated to proceed against the king, that is, the prosecution. This report doubtless confirmed the fears of the government. The writs to the sheriff of Lancaster were redirected, and four of the women were brought up to London and carried to the "Ship Tavern" at Greenwich, close to one of the royal residences.[19] Two of His Majesty's surgeons, Alexander Baker and Sir William Knowles, the latter of whom was accustomed to examine candidates for the king's touch, together with five other surgeons and ten certificated midwives, were now ordered to make a bodily examination of the women, under the direction of the eminent Harvey,[20] the king's physician, who was later to discover the circulation of the blood. In the course of this chapter we shall see that Harvey had long cherished misgivings about witchcraft. Probably by this time he had come to disbelieve it. One can but wonder if Charles, already probably aware of Harvey's views, had not intended from his first step in the Lancashire case to give his physician a chance to assert his opinion. In any case his report and that of his subordinates was entirely in favor of the women, except that in the case of Margaret Johnson (who had confessed) they had found a mark, but one to which they attached little significance.[21] The women seem to have been carried before the king himself.[22] We do not know, however, that he expressed any opinion on the matter. The whole affair has one aspect that has been entirely overlooked. Whatever the verdict of the privy council and of the king may have been--and it was evidently one of caution--they gave authorization from the highest quarters for the use of the test of marks on the body. That proof of witchcraft had been long known in England and had slowly won its way into judicial procedure until now it was recognized by the highest powers in the kingdom. To be sure, it was probably their purpose to annul the reckless convictions in Lancashire, and to break down the evidence of the female juries; but in doing so they furnished a precedent for the witch procedure of the civil-war period. In the mean time, while the surgeons and midwives were busy over these four women, the Robinsons, father and son, had come to London at the summons of the privy council.[23] There the boy was separated from his father. To a Middlesex justice of the peace appointed by Secretary Windebank to take his statements he confessed that his entire story was an invention and had no basis of fact whatever.[24] Both father and son were imprisoned and proceedings seem to have been instituted against them by one of the now repentant jurymen who had tried the case.[25] How long they were kept in prison we do not know. One would naturally suppose that the women would be released on their return to Lancaster, but the sheriff's records show that two years later there were still nine witches in gaol.[26] Three of them bore the same names as those whom Robinson pretended to have seen at Hoarstones. At least one other of the nine had been convicted in 1634, probably more. Margaret Johnson, the single one to confess, so far as we know, was not there. She had probably died in prison in the mean time. We have no clue as to why the women were not released. Perhaps public sentiment at home made the sheriff unwilling to do it, perhaps the wretched creatures spent two or more years in prison--for we do not know when they got out--as a result of judicial negligence, a negligence of which there are too many examples in the records of the time. More likely the king and the privy council, while doubting the charges against the women, had been reluctant to antagonize public sentiment by declaring them innocent. It is disagreeable to have to state that Lancaster was not yet through with its witches. Early in the next year the Bishop of Chester was again called upon by the privy council to look into the cases of four women. There was some delay, during which a dispute took place between the bishop and the sheriff as to where the bishop should examine the witches, whether at Wigan, as he proposed, or at Lancaster.[27] One suspects that the civil authorities of the Duchy of Lancaster may have resented the bishop's part in the affair. When Bridgeman arrived in Lancaster he found two of the women already dead. Of the other two, the one, he wrote, was accused by a man formerly "distracted and lunatic" and by a woman who was a common beggar; the other had been long reputed a witch, but he saw no reason to believe it. He had, he admitted, found a small lump of flesh on her right ear.[28] Alas that the Bishop of Chester, like the king and the privy council, however much he discounted the accusations of witchcraft, had not yet wholly rid himself of one of the darkest and most disagreeable forms of the belief that the Evil One had bodily communication with his subjects. In one respect the affair of 1633-1634 in northern England was singular. The social and moral character of those accused was distinctly high. Not that they belonged to any but the peasant class, but that they represented a good type of farming people. Frances Dickonson's husband evidently had some property. Mary Spencer insisted that she was accustomed to go to church and to repeat the sermon to her parents, and that she was not afraid of death, for she hoped it would make an entrance for her into heaven. Margaret Johnson was persuaded that a man and his wife who were in the gaol on Robinson's charges were not witches, because the man "daily prays and reads and seems a godly man." With this evidence of religious life, which must have meant something as to the status of the people in the community, should be coupled the entire absence of stories of threats at beggars and of quarrels between bad-tempered and loose-lived women, stories that fill so many dreary pages of witchcraft records. Nor is there any mention of the practice of pretended magic. In previous chapters we have had occasion to observe the continuity of superstition in certain localities. It is obvious that Lancashire offers one of the best illustrations of that principle. The connection between the alarms of 1612 and 1633-1634 is not a matter of theory, but can be established by definite proof. It is perhaps not out of order to inquire, then, why Lancashire should have been so infested with witches. It is the more necessary when we consider that there were other witch cases in the country. Nicholas Starchie's children gave rise to the first of the scares. It seems likely that a certain Utley was hanged at Lancaster in 1630 for bewitching a gentleman's child.[29] During Commonwealth days, as we shall find, there was an alarm at Lancaster that probably cost two witches their lives. No county in England except Essex had a similar record. No explanation can be offered for the records of these two counties save that both had been early infected with a hatred of witches, and that the witches came to be connected, in tradition, with certain localities within the counties and with certain families living there. This is, indeed, an explanation that does not explain. It all comes back to the continuity of superstition. We have already referred to the widespread interest in the Lancashire witches. There are two good illustrations of this interest. When Sir William Brereton was travelling in Holland in June of 1634, a little while before the four women had been brought to London, he met King Charles's sister, the Queen of Bohemia, and at once, apparently, they began to talk about the great Lancashire discovery.[30] The other instance of comment on the case was in England. It is one which shows that playwrights were quite as eager then as now to be abreast of current topics. Before final judgment had been given on the Lancashire women, Thomas Heywood and Richard Brome, well known dramatists, had written a play on the subject which was at once published and "acted at the Globe on the Bankside by His Majesty's Actors." By some it has been supposed that this play was an older play founded on the Lancashire affair of 1612 and warmed over in 1634; but the main incidents and the characters of the play are so fully copied from the depositions of the young Robinson and from the charges preferred against Mary Spencer, Frances Dickonson, and Margaret Johnson, that a layman would at once pronounce it a play written entirely to order from the affair of 1634. Nothing unique in the stories was left out. The pail incident--of course without its rational explanation--was grafted into the play and put upon the stage. Indeed, a marriage that afforded the hook upon which to hang a bundle of indecencies, and the story of a virtuous husband who discovers his wife to be a witch, were the only added motives of importance. For our purpose the significance of the play lies of course in its testimony to the general interest--the people of London were obviously familiar with the details, even, of the charges--and its probable reflection of London opinion about the case. Throughout the five acts there were those who maintained that there were no witches, a recognition of the existence of such an opinion. Of course in the play they were all, before the curtain fell, convinced of their error. The authors, who no doubt catered to public sentiment, were not as earnest as the divines of their day, but they were almost as superstitious. Heywood showed himself in another work, _The Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels_,[31] a sincere believer in witchcraft and backed his belief by the Warboys case. Probably he had read Scot, but he was not at all the type of man to set himself against the tide. _The late Lancashire Witches_ no doubt expressed quite accurately London opinion. It was written, it will be remembered, before the final outcome of the case could be foreseen. Perhaps Heywood foresaw it, more probably he was sailing close to the wind of opinion when he wrote in the epilogue, ... "Perhaps great mercy may, After just condemnation, give them day Of longer life." It is easy in discussing the Lancashire affair to miss a central figure. Frances Dickonson, Mary Spencer, and the others, could they have known it, owed their lives in all probability to the intellectual independence of William Harvey. There is a precious story about Harvey in an old manuscript letter by an unknown writer, that, if trustworthy, throws a light on the physician's conduct in the case. The letter seems to have been written by a justice of the peace in southwestern England about 1685.[32] He had had some experience with witches--we have mentioned them in another connection--and he was prompted by them to tell a story of Dr. Harvey, with whom he was "very familiarly acquainted." "I once asked him what his opinion was concerning witchcraft; whether there was any such thing. Hee told mee he believed there was not." Asked the reasons for his doubt, Harvey told him that "when he was at Newmercat with the King [Charles I] he heard there was a woman who dwelt at a lone house on the borders of the Heath who was reputed a Witch, that he went alone to her, and found her alone at home.... Hee said shee was very distrustful at first, but when hee told her he was a vizard, and came purposely to converse with her in their common trade, then shee easily believed him; for say'd hee to mee, 'You know I have a very magicall face.'" The physician asked her where her familiar was and desired to see him, upon which she brought out a dish of milk and made a chuckling noise, as toads do, at which a toad came from under the chest and drank some of the milk. Harvey now laid a plan to get rid of the woman. He suggested that as fellow witches they ought to drink together, and that she procure some ale. She went out to a neighboring ale-house, half a mile away, and Harvey availed himself of her absence to take up the toad and cut it open. Out came the milk. On a thorough examination he concluded that the toad "no ways differed from other toades," but that the melancholy old woman had brought it home some evening and had tamed it by feeding and had so come to believe it a spirit and her familiar. When the woman returned and found her "familiar" cut in pieces, she "flew like a Tigris" at his face. The physician offered her money and tried to persuade her that her familiar was nothing more than a toad. When he found that this did not pacify her he took another tack and told her that he was the king's physician, sent to discover if she were a witch, and, in case she were, to have her apprehended. With this explanation, Harvey was able to get away. He related the story to the king, whose leave he had to go on the expedition. The narrator adds: "I am certayne this for an argument against spirits or witchcraft is the best and most experimentall I ever heard." Who the justice of the peace was that penned this letter, we are unable even to guess, nor do we know upon whose authority it was published. We cannot, therefore, rest upon it with absolute certainty, but we can say that it possesses several characteristics of a _bona fide_ letter.[33] If it is such, it gives a new clue to Harvey's conduct in 1634. We of course cannot be sure that the toad incident happened before that time; quite possibly it was after the interest aroused by that affair that the physician made his investigation. At all events, here was a man who had a scientific way of looking into superstition. The advent of such a man was most significant in the history of witchcraft, perhaps the most significant fact of its kind in the reign of Charles I. That reign, in spite of the Lancashire affair, was characterized by the continuance and growth of the witch skepticism,[34] so prevalent in the last years of the previous reign. Disbelief was not yet aggressive, it did not block prosecutions, but it hindered their effectiveness. The gallows was not yet done away with, but its use had been greatly restrained by the central government. Superstition was still a bird of prey, but its wings were being clipped.[35] [1] The writer of the _Collection of Modern Relations_ (London, 1693) speaks of an execution at Oxford, but there is nothing to substantiate it in the voluminous publications about Oxford; a Middlesex case rests also on doubtful evidence (see appendix C, 1641). [2] _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1634-1635, 152. [3] _Ibid._, 141. [4] This is of course theory; _cf._ Daudet's story of his childhood in "_Le Pape est mort_." [5] There seem to be five different sources for the original deposition of young Robinson. Thomas D. Whitaker, _History ... of Whalley_ (3d ed., 1818), 213, has an imperfect transcript of the deposition as given in the Bodleian, Dodsworth MSS., 61, ff. 45-46. James Crossley in his introduction to Potts, _Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches in the countie of Lancaster_ (Chetham Soc.), lix-lxxii, has copied the deposition given by Whitaker. Thomas Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_, II, 112-114, has given the story from a copy of this and of other depositions in Lord Londesborough's MSS. Webster prints a third copy, _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 347-349. A fourth is in Edward Baines, _History of the ... county ... of Lancaster_, ed. of 1836, I, 604, and is taken from Brit. Mus., Harleian MSS., cod. 6854, f. 26 b. A fifth is in the Bodleian, Rawlinson MSS., D, 399, f. 211. Wright's source we have not in detail, but the other four, while differing slightly as to punctuation, spelling, and names, agree remarkably well as to the details of the story. [6] _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1634-1635, 152. [7] John Stearne, _A Confirmation and Discovery of Witchcraft ... together with the Confessions of many of those executed since May 1645_ (London, 1648), 11, says that in Lancashire "nineteene assembled." Robinson's deposition as printed by Webster, _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, gives nineteen names. [8] Webster, _op. cit._, 277. [9] The boy, in his first examinations at London, said he had made up the story himself. [10] It is a curious thing that one of the justices of the peace was John Starchie, who had been one of the bewitched boys of the Starchie family at Cleworth in 1597. See above, ch. IV. See Baines, _Lancaster_, ed. of 1868-1870, I, 204. [11] This incident is related by Webster, _op. cit._, 276-278. Webster tells us that the boy was yet living when he wrote, and that he himself had heard the whole story from his mouth more than once. He appends to his volume the original deposition of the lad (at Padiham, February 10 1633/4). [12] These are given in the same deposition, but the deposition probably represents the boy's statement at the assizes. [13] The father had been a witness at the Lancashire trials in 1612. See Baines, _Lancaster_, ed. of 1868-1870, I, 204-205. [14] That is, of course, so far as we have evidence. It is a little dangerous to hold to absolute negatives. [15] Webster, _op. cit._, 277. Pelham on May 16, 1634, wrote: "It is said that 19 are condemned and ... 60 already discovered." _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1634-1635, 26. [16] It had been reported in London that witches had raised a storm from which Charles had suffered at sea. Pelham's letter, _ibid._ [17] _Ibid._, 77. See also Council Register (MS.), Charles I, vol. IV, p. 658. [18] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XII, 2, p. 53. The chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster wrote in the meantime that the judges had been to see him. What was to be done with the witches? [19] See _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, X, 2, p. 147; and _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1634-1635_, 98. [20] _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1634-1635, 98, 129. See also Council Register (MS.), Chas. I, vol. V, p. 56. [21] _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1634-1635, 129. [22] Webster, _op. cit._, 277, says that they were examined "after by His Majesty and the Council." [23] See Council Register (MS.), Charles I, vol. IV, p. 657. [24] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1634-1635_, 141. [25] _Ibid._, 152. [26] _Farington Papers_ (Chetham Soc, no. 39, 1856), 27. [27] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XII, 2, p. 77. [28] _Ibid._, p. 80. [29] Baines, _Lancaster_, ed. of 1868-1870, II, 12. Utley, who was a professed conjurer, was alleged to have bewitched to death one Assheton. [30] _Travels in Holland, the United Provinces, England, Scotland and Ireland, 1634-1635, by Sir William Brereton, Bart._ (Chetham Soc., no. 1. 1844), 33. [31] (London, 1635.) As to Heywood see also chapter X. [32] The correspondent who sent a copy of the MS. to the _Gentleman's Magazine_ signs himself "B. C. T." I have been unable to identify him. For his account of the MS. and for its contents see _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1832, pt. I, 405-410, 489-492. [33] John Aubrey, _Letters written by Eminent Persons_ (London, 1813), II, 379, says that Harvey "had made dissections of froggs, toads and a number of other animals, and had curious observations on them." This fits in well with the story, and in some measure goes to confirm it. [34] For example, in 1637 the Bishop of Bath and Wells sent Joice Hunniman to Lord Wrottesley to examine her and exonerate her. He did so, and the bishop wrote thanking him and abusing "certain apparitors who go about frightening the people." See _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, II, app., p. 48. For a case of the acquittal of a witch and the exposure of the pretended convulsions of her accuser, see _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1635_, 477. For example of suits for slander see North Riding Rec. Soc, IV, 182, session July 9, 1640. [35] A solitary pamphlet of this period must be mentioned. It was entitled: _Fearefull Newes from Coventry, or A true Relation and Lamentable Story of one Thomas Holt of Coventry a Musitian who through Covetousnesse and immoderate love of money, sold himselfe to the Devill, with whom he had made a contract for certaine yeares--And also of his Lamentable end and death, on the 16 day of February 1641_ (London, 1642). The "sad subject of this little treatise" was a musician with nineteen children. Fearing that he would not be able to provide for them, he is alleged to have made a contract with the Devil, who finally broke his neck. CHAPTER VIII. MATTHEW HOPKINS. In the annals of English witchcraft Matthew Hopkins occupies a place by himself. For more than two years he was the arch-instigator in prosecutions which, at least in the numbers of those executed, mark the high tide of the delusion. His name was one hardly known by his contemporaries, but he has since become a figure in the annals of English roguery. Very recently his life has found record among those of "Twelve Bad Men."[1] What we know of him up to the time of his first appearance in his successful rôle about March of 1644/5 is soon told. He was the son of James Hopkins, minister of Wenham[2] in Suffolk. He was "a lawyer of but little note" at Ipswich, thence removing to Manningtree. Whether he may have been the Matthew Hopkins of Southwark who complained in 1644 of inability to pay the taxes[3] is more than doubtful, but there is reason enough to believe that he found the law no very remunerative profession. He was ready for some new venture and an accidental circumstance in Manningtree turned him into a wholly new field of endeavor. He assumed the rôle of a witchfinder and is said to have taken the title of witchfinder-general.[4] He had made little or no preparation for the work that now came to his hand. King James's famous _Dæmonologie_ he was familiar with, but he may have studied it after his first experiences at Manningtree. It seems somewhat probable, too, that he had read, and indeed been much influenced by, the account of the Lancashire witches of 1612, as well as by Richard Bernard's _Advice to Grand Jurymen_. But, if he read the latter book, he seems altogether to have misinterpreted it. As to his general information and education, we have no data save the hints to be gained from his own writings. His letter to John Gaule and the little brochure which he penned in self-defence reveal a man able to express himself with some clearness and with a great deal of vigor. There were force of character and nervous energy behind his defiant words. It is no exaggeration, as we shall see in following his career, to say that the witch crusader was a man of action, who might in another field have made his mark. To know something of his religious proclivities would be extremely interesting. On this point, however, he gives us no clue. But his fellow worker, John Stearne, was clearly a Puritan[5] and Hopkins was surely of the same faith. It can hardly be proved, however, that religious zeal prompted him in his campaign. For a time of spiritual earnestness his utterances seem rather lukewarm. It was in his own town that his attention was first directed towards the dangers of witchcraft. The witches, he tells us, were accustomed to hold their meetings near his house. During one of their assemblies he overheard a witch bid her imps to go to another witch. The other witch, whose name was thus revealed to him--Elizabeth Clarke, a poor one-legged creature--was promptly taken into custody on Hopkins's charge.[6] Other accusations poured in. John Rivet had consulted a cunning woman about the illness of his wife, and had learned that two neighbors were responsible. One of these, he was told, dwelt a little above his own home; "whereupon he beleeved his said wife was bewitched by ... Elizabeth Clarke, ... for that the said Elizabeth's mother and some other of her kinsfolke did suffer death for witchcraft." The justices of the peace[7] accordingly had her "searched by women who had for many yeares known the Devill's marks," and, when these were found on her, they bade her custodians "keep her from sleep two or three nights, expecting in that time to see her familiars."[8] Torture is unknown to English law; but, in our day of the "third degree," nobody needs to be told that what is put out at the door may steal in at the window. It may be that, in the seventeenth century, the pious English justices had no suspicion that enforced sleeplessness is a form of physical torture more nerve-racking and irresistible than the thumb-screw. Three days and nights of "watching" brought Elizabeth Clarke to "confess many things"; and when, on the fourth night, her townsmen Hopkins and Stearne dropped in to fill out from her own lips the warrants against those she had named as accomplices, she told them that, if they would stay and do her no hurt, she would call one of her imps. Hopkins told her that he would not allow it, but he stayed. Within a quarter of an hour the imps appeared, six of them, one after another. The first was a "white thing in the likeness of a Cat, but not altogether so big," the second a white dog with some sandy spots and very short legs, the third, Vinegar Tom, was a greyhound with long legs. We need not go further into the story. The court records give the testimony of Hopkins and Stearne. Both have related the affair in their pamphlets.[9] Six others, four of whom were women, made oath to the appearances of the imps. In this respect the trial is unique among all in English history. Eight people testified that they had seen the imps.[10] Two of them referred elsewhere to what they had seen, and their accounts agreed substantially.[11] It may be doubted if the supporting evidence offered at any trial in the seventeenth century in England went so far towards establishing the actual appearance of the so-called imps of the witches. How are we to account for these phenomena? What was the nature of the delusion seemingly shared by eight people? It is for the psychologist to answer. Two explanations occur to the layman. It is not inconceivable that there were rodents in the gaol--the terrible conditions in the gaols of the time are too well known to need description--and that the creatures running about in the dark were easily mistaken by excited people for something more than natural. It is possible, too, that all the appearances were the fabric of imagination or invention. The spectators were all in a state of high expectation of supernatural appearances. What the over-alert leaders declared they had seen the others would be sure to have seen. Whether those leaders were themselves deceived, or easily duped the others by calling out the description of what they claimed to see, would be hard to guess. To the writer the latter theory seems less plausible. The accounts of the two are so clearly independent and yet agree so well in fact that they seem to weaken the case for collusive imposture. With that a layman may be permitted to leave the matter. What hypnotic possibilities are inherent in the story he cannot profess to know. Certainly the accused woman was not a professed dealer in magic and it is not easy to suspect her of having hypnotized the watchers. Upon Elizabeth Clarke's confessions five other women--"the old beldam" Anne West, who had "been suspected as a witch many yeers since, and suffered imprisonment for the same,"[12] her daughter Rebecca,[13] Anne Leech, her daughter Helen Clarke, and Elizabeth Gooding--were arrested. As in the case of the first, there was soon abundance of evidence offered about them. One Richard Edwards bethought himself and remembered that while crossing a bridge he had heard a cry, "much like the shrieke of a Polcat," and had been nearly thrown from his horse. He had also lost some cattle by a mysterious disease. Moreover his child had been nursed by a goodwife who lived near to Elizabeth Clarke and Elizabeth Gooding. The child fell sick, "rowling the eyes," and died. He believed that Anne Leech and Elizabeth Gooding were the cause of its death. His belief, however, which was offered as an independent piece of testimony, seems to have rested on Anne Leech's confession, which had been made before this time and was soon given to the justices of the peace. Robert Taylor charged Elizabeth Gooding with the death of his horse, but he too had the suggestion from other witnesses. Prudence Hart declared that, being in her bed in the night, "something fell down on her right side." "Being dark she cannot tell in what shape it was, but she believeth Rebecca West and Anne West the cause of her pains." But the accusers could hardly outdo the accused. No sooner was a crime suggested than they took it upon themselves. It seemed as if the witches were running a race for position as high criminal. With the exception of Elizabeth Gooding, who stuck to it that she was not guilty, they cheerfully confessed that they had lamed their victims, caused them to "languish," and even killed them. The meetings at Elizabeth Clarke's house were recalled. Anne Leech remembered that there was a book read "wherein shee thinks there was no goodnesse."[14] So the web of charges and counter-charges was spun until twenty-three or more women were caught in its meshes. No less than twelve of them confessed to a share in the most revolting crimes. But there was one who, in court, retracted her confession.[15] At least five utterly denied their guilt. Among them was a poor woman who had aroused suspicion chiefly because a young hare had been seen in front of her house. She was ready to admit that she had seen the hare, but denied all the more serious charges.[16] Another of those who would not plead guilty sought to ward off charges against herself by adding to the charges accumulated against her mother. Hers was a damning accusation. Her mother had threatened her and the next night she "felt something come into the bed about her legges, ... but could not finde anything." This was as serious evidence as that of one of the justices of the peace, who testified from the bench that a very honest friend of his had seen three or four imps come out of Anne West's house in the moonlight. Hopkins was not to be outshone by the other accusers. He had visited Colchester castle to interview Rebecca West and had gained her confession that she had gone through a wedding ceremony with the Devil. But why go into details? The evidence was all of a kind. The female juries figured, as in the trials at Lancaster in 1633, and gave the results of their harrowing examinations. What with their verdicts and the mass of accusations and confessions, the justices of the peace were busy during March, April, and May of 1645. It was not until the twenty-ninth of July that the trial took place. It was held at Chelmsford before the justices of the peace and Robert Rich, Earl of Warwick. Warwick was not an itinerant justice, nor was he, so far as we know, in any way connected with the judicial system. One of the most prominent Presbyterians in England, he had in April of this year, as a result of the "self-denying ordinance," laid down his commission as head of the navy. He disappears from view until August, when he was again given work to do. In the mean time occurred the Chelmsford trial. We can only guess that the earl, who was appointed head of the Eastern Association less than a month later[17] (August 27), acted in this instance in a military capacity. The assizes had been suspended. No doubt some of the justices of the peace pressed upon him the urgency of the cases to be tried. We may guess that he sat with them in the quarter sessions, but he seems to have played the rôle of an itinerant justice. No narrative account of the trial proper is extant. Some one who signs himself "H. F." copied out and printed the evidence taken by the justices of the peace and inserted in the margins the verdicts. In this way we know that at least sixteen were condemned, probably two more, and possibly eleven or twelve more.[18] Of the original sixteen, one was reprieved, one died before execution, four were hanged at Manningtree and ten at Chelmsford. The cases excited some comment, and it is comment that must not be passed over, for it will prove of some use later in analyzing the causes of the outbreak. Arthur Wilson, whom we have mentioned as an historian of the time, has left his verdict on the trial. "There is nothing," he wrote, "so crosse to my temper as putting so many witches to death." He saw nothing, in the women condemned at Chelmsford, "other than poore mellenchollie ... ill-dieted atrabilious constitutions, whose fancies working by grosse fumes and vapors might make the imagination readie to take any impression." Wilson wrestled long with his God over the matter of witches and came at length to the conclusion that "it did not consist with the infinite goodnes of the Almightie God to let Satan loose in so ravenous a way." The opinion of a parliamentary journal in London on the twenty-fourth of July, three days before the Essex executions, shows that the Royalists were inclined to remark the number of witches in the counties friendly to Parliament: "It is the ordinary mirth of the Malignants in this City to discourse of the Association of Witches in the Associated Counties, but by this they shall understand the truth of the old Proverbe, which is that where God hath his Church, the Devill hath his Chappell." The writer goes on, "I am sory to informe you that one of the cheifest of them was a Parsons Wife (this will be good news with the Papists).... Her name was Weight.... This Woman (as I heare) was the first apprehended."[19] It seems, however, that Mrs. "Weight" escaped. Social and religious influences were not without value. A later pamphleteer tells us that the case of Mrs. Wayt, a minister's wife, was a "palpable mistake, for it is well knowne that she is a gentle-woman of a very godly and religious life."[20] Meantime Hopkins had extended his operations into Suffolk. Elizabeth Clarke and Anne Leech had implicated certain women in that county. Their charges were carried before the justices of the peace and were the beginning of a panic which spread like wildfire over the county. The methods which the witchfinder-general used are illuminating. Four searchers were appointed for the county, two men and two women.[21] "In what Town soever ... there be any person or persons suspected to be witch or Witches, thither they send for two or all of the said searchers, who take the partie or parties so suspected into a Roome and strip him, her, or them, starke naked."[22] The clergyman Gaule has given us further particulars:[23] "Having taken the suspected Witch, shee is placed in the middle of a room upon a stool, or Table, crosse-legg'd, or in some other uneasie posture, to which if she submits not, she is then bound with cords; there is she watcht and kept without meat or sleep for the space of 24 hours.... A little hole is likewise made in the door for the Impe to come in at; and lest it might come in some lesse discernible shape, they that watch are taught to be ever and anon sweeping the room, and if they see any spiders or flyes, to kill them. And if they cannot kill them, then they may be sure they are her Impes."[24] Hutchinson tells a story of one woman, who, after having been kept long fasting and without sleep, confessed to keeping an imp called Nan. But a "very learned ingenious gentleman having indignation at the thing" drove the people from the house, gave the woman some food, and sent her to bed. Next morning she knew of no Nan but a pullet she had. The most sensational discovery in Suffolk was that John Lowes, pastor of Brandeston, was a witch. The case was an extraordinary one and throws a light on the witch alarms of the time. Lowes was eighty years old, and had been pastor in the same place for fifty years. He got into trouble, undoubtedly as a result of his inability to get along with those around him. As a young man he had been summoned to appear before the synod at Ipswich for not conforming to the rites of the Established Church.[25] In the first year of Charles's reign he had been indicted for refusing to exhibit his musket,[26] and he had twice later been indicted for witchcraft and once as a common imbarritor.[27] The very fact that he had been charged with witchcraft before would give color to the charge when made in 1645. We have indeed a clue to the motives for this accusation. A parishioner and a neighboring divine afterwards gave it as their opinion that "Mr. Lowes, being a litigious man, made his parishioners (too tenacious of their customs) very uneasy, so that they were glad to take the opportunity of those wicked times to get him hanged, rather than not get rid of him." Hopkins had afforded them the opportunity. The witchfinder had taken the parson in hand. He had caused him to be kept awake several nights together, and had run him backwards and forwards about the room until he was out of breath. "Then they rested him a little and then ran him again, and this they did for several days and nights together, till he was weary of his life and scarce sensible of what he said or did."[28] He had, when first accused, denied all charges and challenged proof, but after he had been subjected to these rigorous methods he made a full confession. He had, he said, sunk a sailing vessel of Ipswich, making fourteen widows in a quarter of an hour. The witchfinder had asked him if it did not grieve him to see so many men cast away in a short time, and he answered: "No, he was joyfull to see what power his Impes had."[29] He had, he boasted, a charm to keep him out of gaol and from the gallows. It is too bad that the crazed man's confidence in his charm was misplaced. His whole wild confession is an illustration of the effectiveness of the torture. His fate is indicative of the hysteria of the times and of the advantages taken of it by malicious people. It was his hostility to the ecclesiastical and political sympathies of his community that caused his fall. The dementia induced by the torture in Lowes's case showed itself in the case of others, who made confessions of long careers of murder. "These and all the rest confessed that cruell malice ... was their chiefe delight." The accused were being forced by cruel torture to lend their help to a panic which exceeded any before or after in England. From one hundred and thirty to two hundred people[30] were soon under accusation and shut up in Bury gaol. News of this reached a Parliament in London that was very much engrossed with other matters. We cannot do better than to quote the Puritan biographer Clarke.[31] "A report was carried to the Parliament ... as if some busie men had made use of some ill Arts to extort such confession; ... thereupon a special Commission of Oyer and Terminer was granted for the trial of these Witches." Care was to be used, in gathering evidence, that confessions should be voluntary and should be backed by "many collateral circumstances." There were to be no convictions except upon proof of express compact with the Devil, or upon evidence of the use of imps, which implied the same thing. Samuel Fairclough and Edmund Calamy (the elder), both of them Non-Conformist clergymen of Suffolk,[32] together with Serjeant John Godbolt and the justices of the peace, were to compose this special court. The court met about the end of August, a month after the sessions under Warwick at Chelmsford, and was opened by two sermons preached by Mr. Fairclough in Bury church. One of the first things done by the special court, quite possibly at the instigation of the two clergymen, was to put an end to the swimming test,[33] which had been used on several of the accused, doubtless by the authority of the justices of the peace. This was of course in some sense a blow at Hopkins. Nevertheless a great deal of the evidence which he had gathered must have been taken into account. Eighteen persons, including two men,[34] were condemned to be hanged.[35] On the night before their execution, they were confined in a barn, where they made an agreement not to confess a word at the gallows the following day, and sang a psalm in confirmation. Next day they "dyed ... very desperately."[36] But there were still one hundred and twenty others in gaol[37] awaiting trial. No doubt many forthwith would have met the same end, had it not been for a lucky chance of the wars. The king's forces were approaching and the court hastened to adjourn its sessions.[38] But this danger was soon over, and within three weeks' time the court seems to have resumed its duties.[39] Of this second session we know nothing at all, save that probably forty or fifty more witches were condemned, and doubtless executed.[40] What became of the others we can only guess. Perhaps some were released, some left in gaol indefinitely. These things were not done in a corner. Yet so great was the distraction in England that, if we can trust negative evidence, they excited not a great deal of notice. Such comments as there were, however, were indicative of a division of opinion. During the interval between the two sessions, the _Moderate Intelligencer_, a parliamentary organ that had sprung up in the time of the Civil War, came out in an editorial on the affair. "But whence is it that Devils should choose to be conversant with silly Women that know not their right hands from their left, is the great wonder.... They will meddle with none but poore old Women: as appears by what we received this day from Bury.... Divers are condemned and some executed and more like to be. Life is precious and there is need of great inquisition before it is taken away."[41] This was the sole newspaper reference of which we know, as well as the only absolutely contemporary mention of these trials. What other expressions of opinion there were came later. James Howell, a popular essayist of his time, mentioned the trials in his correspondence as new proof of the reality of witchcraft.[42] The pious Bishop Hall saw in them the "prevalency of Satan in these times."[43] Thomas Ady, who in 1656 issued his _Candle in the Dark_, mentioned the "Berry Assizes"[44] and remarked that some credulous people had published a book about it. He thought criticism deserved for taking the evidence of the gaoler, whose profit lay in having the greatest possible number executed.[45] We have already described Hopkins as a man of action. Nothing is better evidence of it than the way in which he hurried back and forth over the eastern counties. During the last part of May he had probably been occupied with collecting the evidence against the accused at Bury. Long before they were tried he was busy elsewhere. We can trace his movements in outline only, but we know enough of them to appreciate his tremendous energy. Some time about the beginning of June he must have gone to Norfolk. Before the twenty-sixth of July twenty witches had been executed in that county.[46] None of the details of these trials have been left us. From the rapidity with which they were carried to completion we may feel fairly certain that the justices of the peace, seeing no probability of assize sessions in the near future, went ahead to try cases on their own initiative.[47] On the fifteenth of August the corporation of Great Yarmouth, at the southern extremity of the Norfolk coast line, voted to send for Mr. Hopkins, and that he should have his fee and allowance for his pains,[48] "as he hath in other places." He came at two different times, once in September and once in December. Probably the burden of the work was turned over to the four female assistants, who were granted a shilling a day apiece.[49] Six women were condemned, one of whom was respited.[50] Later three other women and one man were indicted, but by this time the furor against them seems to have abated, and they probably went free.[51] Hopkins's further course can be traced with some degree of certainty. From Yarmouth he probably went to Ipswich, where Mother Lakeland was burned on September 9 at the instance of the justices of the peace.[52] Mother Lakeland's death by burning is the second instance we have, during the Hopkins panic,[53] of this form of sentence. It is explained by the fact that it was the law in England to burn women who murdered their husbands. The chief charge against Mother Lakeland, who, by the way, was a woman quite above the class from which witches were ordinarily recruited,[54] was that she had bewitched her husband to death.[55] The crime was "petty treason." It is not a wild guess that Hopkins paused long enough in his active career to write an account of the affair, so well were his principles of detection presented in a pamphlet soon issued from a London press.[56] But, at any rate, before Mother Lakeland had been burned he was on his way to Aldeburgh, where he was already at work on the eighth of September collecting evidence.[57] Here also he had an assistant, Goody Phillips, who no doubt continued the work after he left. He was back again in Aldeburgh on the twentieth of December and the seventh of January, and the grand result of his work was summarized in the brief account: "Paid ... eleven shillings for hanging seven witches."[58] From Aldeburgh, Hopkins may have journeyed to Stowmarket. We do not know how many servants of the evil one he discovered here; but, as he was paid twenty-three pounds[59] for his services, and had received but six pounds in Aldeburgh, the presumption is that his work here was very fruitful in results. We now lose track of the witchfinder's movements for a while. Probably he was doubling on his track and attending court sessions. In December we know that he made his second visit to Yarmouth. From there he may have gone to King's Lynn, where two witches were hanged this year, and from there perhaps returned early in January to Aldeburgh and other places in Suffolk. It is not to be supposed for a moment that his activities were confined to the towns named. At least fifteen other places in Suffolk are mentioned by Stearne in his stories of the witches' confessions.[60] While Hopkins's subordinates probably represented him in some of the villages, we cannot doubt that the witchfinder himself visited many towns. From East Anglia Hopkins went westward into Cambridgeshire. His arrival there must have been during either January or February. His reputation, indeed, had gone ahead of him, and the witches were reported to have taken steps in advance to prevent detection.[61] But their efforts were vain. The witchfinder found not less than four or five of the detested creatures,[62] probably more. We know, however, of only one execution, that of a woman who fell under suspicion because she kept a tame frog.[63] From Cambridgeshire, Hopkins's course took him, perhaps in March of 1645/6, into Northamptonshire. There he found at least two villages infested, and he turned up some remarkable evidence. So far in his crusade, the keeping of imps had been the test infallible upon which the witchfinder insisted. But at Northampton spectral evidence seems to have played a considerable part.[64] Hopkins never expresses his opinion on this variety of evidence, but his co-worker declares that it should be used with great caution, because "apparitions may proceed from the phantasie of such as the party use to fear or at least suspect." But it was a case in Northamptonshire of a different type that seems to have made the most lasting impression on Stearne. Cherrie of Thrapston, "a very aged man," had in a quarrel uttered the wish that his neighbor's tongue might rot out. The neighbor thereupon suffered from something which we should probably call cancer of the tongue. Perhaps as yet the possibilities of suggestion have not been so far sounded that we can absolutely discredit the physical effects of a malicious wish. It is much easier, however, to believe the reported utterance imagined after its supposed effect. At all events, Cherrie was forced to confess that he had been guilty and he further admitted that he had injured Sir John Washington, who had been his benefactor at various times.[65] He was indicted by the grand jury, but died in gaol, very probably by suicide, on the day when he was to have been tried.[66] From Northamptonshire Hopkins's course led him into Huntingdonshire,[67] a county that seems to have been untroubled by witch alarms since the Warboys affair of 1593. The justices of the peace took up the quest eagerly. The evidence that they gathered had but little that was unusual.[68] Mary Chandler had despatched her imp, Beelzebub, to injure a neighbor who had failed to invite her to a party. An accused witch who was questioned about other possible witches offered in evidence a peculiar piece of testimony. He had a conversation with "Clarke's sonne of Keiston," who had said to him (the witness): "I doe not beleeve you die a Witch, for I never saw you at our meetings." This would seem to have been a clever fiction to ward off charges against himself. But, strangely enough, the witness declared that he answered "that perhaps their meetings were at severall places." Hopkins did not find it all smooth sailing in the county of Huntingdon. A clergyman of Great Staughton became outraged at his work and preached against it. The witchfinder had been invited to visit the town and hesitated. Meantime he wrote this blustering letter to one of John Gaule's parishioners. "My service to your Worship presented, I have this day received a Letter, &c.--to come to a Towne called Great Staughton to search for evil disposed persons called Witches (though I heare your Minister is farre against us through ignorance) I intend to come (God willing) the sooner to heare his singular Judgment on the behalfe of such parties; I have known a Minister in Suffolke preach as much against their discovery in a Pulpit, and forc'd to recant it (by the Committee) in the same place. I much marvaile such evill Members[69] should have any (much more any of the Clergy) who should daily preach Terrour to convince such Offenders, stand up to take their parts against such as are Complainants for the King, and sufferers themselves with their Families and Estates. I intend to give your Towne a Visite suddenly, I am to come to Kimbolton this weeke, and it shall bee tenne to one but I will come to your Town first, but I would certainely know afore whether your Town affords many Sticklers for such Cattell, or willing to give and afford us good welcome and entertainment, as other where I have beene, else I shall wave your Shire (not as yet beginning in any part of it my selfe) And betake me to such places where I doe and may persist without controle, but with thankes and recompence."[70] This stirred the fighting spirit of the vicar of Great Staughton, and he answered the witchfinder in a little book which he published shortly after, and which he dedicated to Colonel Walton of the House of Commons. We shall have occasion in another chapter to note its point of view. In spite of opposition, Hopkins's work in Huntingdonshire prospered. The justices of the peace were occupied with examinations during March and April. Perhaps as many as twenty were accused.[71] At least half that number were examined. Several were executed--we do not know the exact number--almost certainly at the instance of the justices of the peace.[72] It is pleasant to know that one was acquitted, even if it was after she had been twice searched and once put through the swimming ordeal.[73] From Huntingdonshire it is likely that Hopkins and Stearne made their next excursion into Bedfordshire. We know very little about their success here. In two villages it would seem that they were able to track their prey.[74] But they left to others the search which they had begun.[75] The witchfinder had been active for a little over a year. But during the last months of that time his discoveries had not been so notable. Was there a falling off in interest? Or was he meeting with increased opposition among the people? Or did the assize courts, which resumed their proceedings in the summer of 1646, frown upon him? It is hard to answer the question without more evidence. But at any rate it is clear that during the summer and autumn of 1646 he was not actively engaged in his profession. It is quite possible, indeed, that he was already suffering from the consumption which was to carry him off in the following year. And, with the retirement of its moving spirit, the witch crusade soon came to a close. Almost a twelvemonth later there was a single[76] discovery of witches. It was in the island of Ely; and the church courts,[77] the justices of the peace,[78] and the assize courts,[79] which had now been revived, were able, between them, to hang a few witches.[80] We do not know whether Hopkins participated in the Ely affair or not. It seems certain that his co-worker, Stearne, had some share in it. But, if so, it was his last discovery. The work of the two men was ended. They had been pursuing the pack of witches in the eastern counties since March of 1644/5. Even the execrations of those who opposed them could not mar the pleasure they felt in what they had done. Nay, when they were called upon to defend themselves, they could hardly refrain from exulting in their achievements. They had indeed every right to exult. When we come to make up the roll of their victims, we shall see that their record as witch discoverers surpassed the combined records of all others. It is a mistake to suppose that they had acted in any haphazard way. The conduct of both men had been based upon perfectly logical deductions from certain premises. King James's _Dæmonologie_ had been their catechism, the statute against the feeding of imps their book of rules. Both men started with one fundamental notion, that witchcraft is the keeping of imps. But this was a thing that could be detected by marks on the bodies.[81] Both were willing to admit that mistakes could be made and were often made in assuming that natural bodily marks were the Devil's marks. There were, however, special indications by which the difference between the two could be recognized.[82] And the two witchfinders, of course, possessed that "insight"[83] which was necessary to make the distinction. The theories upon which they worked we need not enter into. Suffice it to say that when once they had proved, as they thought, the keeping of imps, the next step was to watch those accused of it.[84] "For the watching," says Stearne,[85] "it is not to use violence or extremity to force them to confesse, but onely the keeping is, first to see whether any of their spirits, or familiars come to or neere them." It is clear that both Hopkins and Stearne recognized the fact that confessions wrung from women by torture are worthless and were by this explanation defending themselves against the charge of having used actual torture. There seems to be no adequate reason for doubting the sincerity of their explanation. Stearne tells us that the keeping the witches separate is "also to the end that Godly Divines might discourse with them." "For if any of their society come to them to discourse with them, they will never confesse."[86] Here, indeed, is a clue to many confessions. Several men arrayed against one solitary and weak woman could break her resolution and get from her very much what they pleased. As for starving the witches and keeping them from sleep, Stearne maintained that these things were done by them only at first. Hopkins bore the same testimony. "After they had beat their heads together in the Gaole, and after this use was not allowed of by the Judges and other Magistrates, it was never since used, which is a yeare and a halfe since."[87] In other words, the two men had given up the practice because the parliamentary commission had compelled them to do so. The confessions must be received with great caution, Hopkins himself declared.[88] It is so easy to put words into the witch's mouth. "You have foure Imps, have you not? She answers affirmatively. 'Yes'.... 'Are not their names so and so'? 'Yes,' saith she. 'Did you not send such an Impe to kill my child'? 'Yes,' saith she." This sort of thing has been too often done, asserted the virtuous witchfinder. He earnestly did desire that "all Magistrates and Jurors would, a little more than ever they did, examine witnesses about the interrogated confessions." What a cautious, circumspect man was this famous witchfinder! The confessions, he wrote, in which confidence may be placed are when the woman, without any "hard usages or questions put to her, doth of her owne accord declare what was the occasion of the Devil's appearing to her."[89] The swimming test had been employed by both men in the earlier stages of their work. "That hath been used," wrote Stearne, "and I durst not goe about to cleere my selfe of it, because formerly I used it, but it was at such time of the yeare as when none tooke any harme by it, neither did I ever doe it but upon their owne request."[90] A thoughtful man was this Stearne! Latterly he had given up the test--since "Judge Corbolt" stopped it[91]--and he had come to believe that it was a way of "distrusting of God's providence." It can be seen that the men who had conducted the witch crusade were able to present a consistent philosophy of their conduct. It was, of course, a philosophy constructed to meet an attack the force of which they had to recognize. Hopkins's pamphlet and Stearne's _Confirmation_ were avowedly written to put their authors right in the eyes of a public which had turned against them.[92] It seems that this opposition had first shown itself at their home in Essex. A woman who was undergoing inquisition had found supporters, and, though she was condemned in spite of their efforts, was at length reprieved.[93] Her friends turned the tables by indicting Stearne and some forty others of conspiracy, and apparently succeeded in driving them from the county.[94] In Bury the forces of the opposition had appealed to Parliament, and the Commission of Oyer and Terminer, which, it will be noticed, is never mentioned by the witchfinders, was sent out to limit their activities. In Huntingdonshire, we have seen how Hopkins roused a protesting clergyman, John Gaule. If we may judge from the letter he wrote to one of Gaule's parishioners, Hopkins had by this time met with enough opposition to know when it was best to keep out of the way. His boldness was assumed to cover his fear. But it was in Norfolk that the opposition to the witchfinders reached culmination. There most pungent "queries" were put to Hopkins through the judges of assize. He was charged with all those cruelties, which, as we have seen, he attempts to defend. He was further accused of fleecing the country for his own profit.[95] Hopkins's answer was that he took the great sum of twenty shillings a town "to maintaine his companie with 3 horses."[96] That this was untrue is sufficiently proved by the records of Stowmarket where he received twenty-three pounds and his traveling expenses. At such a rate for the discoveries, we can hardly doubt that the two men between them cleared from three hundred to a thousand pounds, not an untidy sum in that day, when a day's work brought six pence. What further action was taken in the matter of the queries "delivered to the Judges of assize" we do not know. Both Hopkins and Stearne, as we have seen, went into retirement and set to work to exonerate themselves. Within the year Hopkins died at his old home in Manningtree. Stearne says that he died "peaceably, after a long sicknesse of a Consumption." But tradition soon had it otherwise. Hutchinson says that the story, in his time, was that Hopkins was finally put to the swimming test himself, and drowned. According to another tale, which seems to have lingered in Suffolk, he offered to show the Devil's roll of all the witches in England and so was detected.[97] Butler, in his _Hudibras_, said of him: "Who after proved himself a witch, And made a rod for his own breech." Butler's lines appeared only fifteen years after Hopkin's death, and his statement is evidence enough that such a tradition was already current. The tradition is significant. It probably means, not that Hopkins really paid such a penalty for his career--Stearne's word is good enough proof to the contrary--but that within his own generation his name had become an object of detestation. John Stearne did not return to Manningtree--he may have been afraid to--but settled down near Bury, the scene of his greatest successes. If the epitaphs of these two men were to be written, their deeds could be compressed into homely statistics. And this leads us to inquire what was the sum of their achievement. It has been variously estimated. It is not an uncommon statement that thirty thousand witches were hanged in England during the rule of Parliament, and this wild guess has been copied by reputable authors. In other works the number has been estimated at three thousand, but this too is careless guesswork. Stearne himself boasted that he knew of two hundred executions, and Stearne ought to have known. It is indeed possible that his estimate was too high. He had a careless habit of confusing condemnations with executions that makes us suspect that in this estimate he may have been thinking rather of the number of convictions than of the hangings. Yet his figures are those of a man who was on the ground, and cannot be lightly discounted. Moreover, James Howell, writing in 1648, says that "within the compass of two years, near upon three hundred Witches were arraign'd and the major part executed in Essex and Suffolk only."[98] If these estimates be correct--or even if they approach correctness--a remarkable fact appears. Hopkins and Stearne, in fourteen months' time, sent to the gallows more witches than all the other witch-hunters of England can be proved--so far as our present records go--to have hung in the hundred and sixty years during which the persecution nourished in England. It must occur to the reader that this crusade was extraordinary. Certainly it calls for explanation. So far as the writer is aware, but one explanation has been offered. It has been repeated until it has become a commonplace in the history of witchcraft that the Hopkins crusade was one of the expressions of the intolerant zeal of the Presbyterian party during its control of Parliament. This notion is largely due to Francis Hutchinson, who wrote the first history of English witchcraft. Hutchinson was an Anglican clergyman, but we need not charge him with partisanship in accusing the Presbyterians. There was no inconsiderable body of evidence to support his point of view. The idea was developed by Sir Walter Scott in his _Letters on Demonology_, but it was left to Lecky, in his classic essay on witchcraft, to put the case against the Presbyterian Parliament in its most telling form.[99] His interpretation of the facts has found general acceptance since. It is not hard to understand how this explanation grew up. At a time when Hutchinson was making his study, Richard Baxter, the most eminent Puritan of his time, was still a great name among the defenders of witchcraft.[100] In his pages Hutchinson read how Puritan divines accompanied the witch-magistrates on their rounds and how a "reading parson" was one of their victims. Gaule, who opposed them, he seems to have counted an Anglican. He clearly put some faith in the lines of _Hudibras_. Probably, however, none of these points weighed so much with him as the general fact of coincidence in time between the great witch persecution and Presbyterian rule. It was hard to escape the conclusion that these two unusual situations must in some way have been connected. Neither Hutchinson nor those who followed have called attention to a point in support of their case which is quite as good proof of their contention as anything adduced. It was in the eastern counties, where the Eastern Association had flourished and where Parliament, as well as the army, found its strongest backing--the counties that stood consistently against the king--in those counties it was that Hopkins and Stearne carried on their work.[101] It may seem needless in the light of these facts to suggest any other explanation of the witch crusade. Yet the whole truth has not by any means been told. It has already been noticed that Hutchinson made some mistakes. Parson Lowes, who was hanged as a witch at the instance of his dissatisfied parishioners, was not hanged because he was an Anglican.[102] And the Presbyterian Parliament had not sent down into Suffolk a commission to hang witches, but to check the indiscriminate proceedings that were going on there against witches. Moreover, while it is true that East Anglia and the counties adjacent, the stronghold of the Puritans, were the scene of Hopkins's operations, it is quite as true that in those counties arose that powerful opposition which forced the witchfinders into retirement. We have noticed in another connection that the "malignants" were inclined to mock at the number of witches in the counties friendly to Parliament, but there is nothing to show that the mockers disbelieved the reality of the witchcrafts.[103] It is easy enough to turn some of Hutchinson's reasoning against him, as well as to weaken the force of other arguments that may be presented on his side. But, when we have done all this, we still have to face the unpleasant facts that the witch persecution coincided in time with Presbyterian rule and in place with Puritan communities. It is very hard to get around these facts. Nor does the writer believe that they can be altogether avoided, even if their edge can be somewhat blunted. It was a time of bitter struggle. The outcome could not yet be forecast. Party feeling was at a high pitch. The situation may not unfairly be compared with that in the summer of 1863 during the American civil war. Then the outbreaks in New York revealed the public tension. The case in 1645 in the eastern counties was similar. Every energy was directed towards the prosecution of the war. The strain might very well have shown itself in other forms than in hunting down the supposed agents of the Devil. As a matter of fact, the apparitions and devils, the knockings and strange noises, that filled up the pages of the popular literature were the indications of an overwrought public mind. Religious belief grew terribly literal under the tension of the war. The Anglicans were fighting for their king, the Puritans for their religion. That religious fervor which very easily deepens into dementia was highly accentuated.[104] Nevertheless, too much importance may have been given to the part played by Presbyterianism. There is no evidence which makes it certain that the morbidity of the public would have taken the form of witch-hanging, had it not been for the leadership of Hopkins and Stearne. The Manningtree affair started very much as a score of others in other times. It had just this difference, that two pushing men took the matter up and made of it an opportunity. The reader who has followed the career of these men has seen how they seem the backbone of the entire movement. It is true that the town of Yarmouth invited them of its own initiative to take up the work there, but not until they had already made themselves famous in all East Anglia. There is, indeed, too much evidence that their visits were in nearly every case the result of their own deliberate purpose to widen the field of their labors. In brief, two aggressive men had taken advantage of a time of popular excitement and alarm. They were fortunate in the state of the public mind, but they seem to have owed more to their own exertions. But perhaps to neither factor was their success due so much as to the want of government in England at this time. We have seen in an earlier chapter that Charles I and his privy council had put an end to a witch panic that bade fair to end very tragically. Not that they interfered with random executions here and there. It was when the numbers involved became too large that the government stepped in to revise verdicts. This was what the government of Parliament failed to do. And the reasons are not far to seek. Parliament was intensely occupied with the war. The writer believes that it can be proved that, except in so far as concerned the war, the government of Parliament and the Committee of Both Kingdoms paid little or no attention to the affairs of the realm. It is certainly true that they allowed judicial business to go by the board. The assizes seem to have been almost, if not entirely, suspended during the last half of the year 1645 and the first half of 1646.[105] The justices of the peace, who had always shown themselves ready to hunt down witches, were suffered to go their own gait.[106] To be sure, there were exceptions. The Earl of Warwick held a court at Chelmsford, but he was probably acting in a military capacity, and, inexperienced in court procedure, doubtless depended largely upon the justices of the peace, who, gathered in quarter sessions, were assisting him. It is true too that Parliament had sent down a Commission of Oyer and Terminer to Bury, a commission made up of a serjeant and two clergymen. But these two cases are, so far as we can discover, the sole instances during these two years when the justices of the peace were not left to their own devices. This is significant. Except in Middlesex and in the chartered towns of England, we have, excepting during this time of war, no records that witches were ever sentenced to death, save by the judges of assize. To put it in a nutshell, England was in a state of judicial anarchy.[107] Local authorities were in control. But local authorities had too often been against witches. The coming of Hopkins and Stearne gave them their chance, and there was no one to say stop. This explanation fits in well with the fact, to which we shall advert in another chapter, that no small proportion of English witch trials took place in towns possessing separate rights of jurisdiction. This was especially true in the seventeenth century. The cases in Yarmouth, King's Lynn, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Berwick, and Canterbury, are all instances in point. Indeed, the solitary prosecution in Hopkins's own time in which he had no hand was in one of those towns, Faversham in Kent. There the mayor and "local jurators" sent not less than three to the gallows.[108] One other aspect of the Hopkins crusade deserves further attention. It has been shown in the course of the chapter that the practice of torture was in evidence again and again during this period. The methods were peculiarly harrowing. At the same time they were methods which the rationale of the witch belief justified. The theory need hardly be repeated. It was believed that the witches, bound by a pact with the Devil, made use of spirits that took animal forms. These imps, as they were called, were accustomed to visit their mistress once in twenty-four hours. If the witch, said her persecutors, could be put naked upon a chair in the middle of the room and kept awake, the imps could not approach her. Herein lay the supposed reasonableness of the methods in vogue. And the authorities who were offering this excuse for their use of torture were not loth to go further. It was, they said, necessary to walk the creatures in order to keep them awake. It was soon discovered that the enforced sleeplessness and the walking would after two or three days and nights produce confessions. Stearne himself describes the matter graphically: "For the watching," he writes, "it is not to use violence or extremity to force them to confesse, but onely the keeping is, first, to see whether any of their spirits or familiars come to or neere them; for I have found that if the time be come, the spirit or Impe so called should come, it will be either visible or invisible, if visible, then it may be discerned by those in the Roome, if invisible, then by the party. Secondly, it is for this end also, that if the parties which watch them, be so carefull that none come visible nor invisible but that may be discerned, if they follow their directions then the party presently after the time their Familiars should have come, if they faile, will presently confesse, for then they thinke they will either come no more or have forsaken them. Thirdly it is also to the end, that Godly Divines and others might discourse with them, for if any of their society come to them to discourse with them, they will never confesse.... But if honest godly people discourse with them, laying the hainousnesse of their sins to them, and in what condition they are in without Repentance, and telling them the subtilties of the Devil, and the mercies of God, these ways will bring them to Confession without extremity, it will make them break into confession hoping for mercy."[109] Hopkins tells us more about the walking of the witches. In answer to the objection that the accused were "extraordinarily walked till their feet were blistered, and so forced through that cruelty to confesse," "he answered that the purpose was only to keepe them waking: and the reason was this, when they did lye or sit in a chaire, if they did offer to couch downe, then the watchers were only to desire them to sit up and walke about." Now, the inference might be drawn from these descriptions that the use of torture was a new feature of the witchcraft persecutions characteristic of the Civil War period. There is little evidence that before that time such methods were in use. A schoolmaster who was supposed to have used magic against James I had been put to the rack. There were other cases in which it is conjectured that the method may have been tried. There is, however, little if any proof of such trial. Such an inference would, however, be altogether unjustified. The absence of evidence of the use of torture by no means establishes the absence of the practice. It may rather be said that the evidence of the practice we possess in the Hopkins cases is of such a sort as to lead us to suspect that it was frequently resorted to. If for these cases we had only such evidence as in most previous cases has made up our entire sum of information, we should know nothing of the terrible sufferings undergone by the poor creatures of Chelmsford and Bury. The confessions are given in full, as in the accounts of other trials, but no word is said of the causes that led to them. The difference between these cases of 1645 and other cases is this, that Hopkins and Stearne accused so large a body of witches that they stirred up opposition. It is through those who opposed them and their own replies that we learn about the tortures inflicted upon the supposed agents of the Devil. The significance of this cannot be insisted upon too strongly. A chance has preserved for us the fact of the tortures of this time. It is altogether possible--it is almost probable--that, if we had all the facts, we should find that similar or equally severe methods had been practised in many other witch cases. We have been very minute in our descriptions of the Hopkins crusade, and by no means brief in our attempt to account for it. But it is safe to say that it is easily the most important episode in that series of episodes which makes up the history of English witchcraft. None of them belong, of course, in the larger progress of historical events. It may seem to some that we have magnified the point at which they touched the wider interests of the time. Let it not be forgotten that Hopkins was a factor in his day and that, however little he may have affected the larger issues of the times, he was affected by them. It was only the unusual conditions produced by the Civil Wars that made the great witchfinder possible. [1] See J. O. Jones, "Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder," in Thomas Seccombe's _Twelve Bad Men_ (London, 1894). [2] See _Notes and Queries_, 1854, II, 285, where a quotation from a parish register of Mistley-cum-Manningtree is given: "Matthew Hopkins, son of Mr. James Hopkins, Minister of Wenham, was buried at Mistley August 12, 1647." See also John Stearne, _A Confirmation and Discovery of Witchcraft_, 61 (cited hereafter as "Stearne"). [3] _Calendar of the Proceedings of the Committee for Advance of Money, 1642-1656_, I, 457. _Cf. Notes and Queries_, 1850, II, 413. [4] The oft-repeated statement that he had been given a commission by Parliament to detect witches seems to rest only on the mocking words of Butler's _Hudibras_: "Hath not this present Parliament A Ledger to the Devil sent, Fully empower'd to treat about Finding revolted Witches out?" (_Hudibras_, pt. ii, canto 3.) To these lines an early editor added the note: "The Witch-finder in Suffolk, who in the Presbyterian Times had a Commission to discover Witches." But he names no authority, and none can be found. It is probably a confusion with the Commission appointed for the trial of the witches in Suffolk (see below, p. 178). Even his use of the title "witch-finder-general" is very doubtful. "Witch-finder" he calls himself in his book; only the frontispiece has "Witch Finder Generall." Nor is this title given him by Stearne, Gaule, or any contemporary record. It is perhaps only a misunderstanding of the phrase of Hopkins's title-page, "for the benefit of the whole kingdome"--a phrase which, as the punctuation shows, describes, not the witch-finder, but his book. Yet in _County Folk Lore, Suffolk_ (Folk Lore Soc., 1893), 178, there is an extract about John Lowes from a Brandeston MS.: "His chief accuser was one Hopkins, who called himself Witchfinder-General." But this is of uncertain date, and may rest on Hutchinson. [5] This is evident enough from his incessant use of Scripture and from the Calvinistic stamp of his theology; but he leaves us no doubt when (p. 54) he describes the Puritan Fairclough as "an able Orthodox Divine." [6] Matthew Hopkins, _The Discovery of Witches_ (London, 1647), 2--cited hereafter as "Hopkins." [7] One of them was Sir Harbottle Grimston, a baronet of Puritan ancestry, who had been active in the Long Parliament, but who as a "moderate man" fell now somewhat into the background. The other was Sir Thomas Bowes. Both figure a little later as Presbyterian elders. [8] Hopkins, 3. [9] Hopkins, 2; Stearne, 14-16. [10] It must, however, be noted that the oaths of the four women are put together, and that one of the men deposed merely that he confirmed Stearne's particulars. [11] Although Hopkins omitted in his testimony the first animal seen by Stearne. He mentioned it later, calling it Holt. Stearne called it Lought. See Hopkins, 2; Stearne, 15. But Stearne calls it Hoult in his testimony as reproduced in the _True and exact Relation of the severall Informations, Examinations and Confessions of the Late Witches ... at Chelmesford ..._ (London, 1645), 3-4. [12] Despite this record Anne West is described by Stearne (p. 39) as one of the very religious people who make an outward show "as if they had been Saints on earth." [13] The confession of Rebecca West is indeed dated "21" March 1645, the very day of Elizabeth Clarke's arrest; but all the context suggests that this is an error. In spite of her confessions, which were of the most damaging, Rebecca West was eventually acquitted. [14] It must not for a moment, however, be forgotten that these confessions had been wrung from tortured creatures. [15] Richard Carter and Henry Cornwall had testified that Margaret Moone confessed to them. Probably she did, as she was doubtless at that time under torture. [16] The evidence offered against her well suggests on what slender grounds a witch might be accused. "This Informant saith that the house where this Informante and the said Mary did dwell together, was haunted with a Leveret, which did usually sit before the dore: And this Informant knowing that one Anthony Shalock had an excellent Greyhound that had killed many Hares; and having heard that a childe of the said Anthony was much haunted and troubled, and that the mother of the childe suspected the said Mary to be the cause of it: This Informant went to the said Anthony Shalock and acquainted him that a Leveret did usually come and sit before the dore, where this Informant and the said Mary Greenleife lived, and desired the said Anthony to bring downe his Greyhound to see if he could kill the said Leveret; and the next day the said Anthony did accordingly bring his Greyhound, and coursed it, but whether the dog killed it this Informant knows not: But being a little before coursed by Good-man Merrils dog, the dog ran at it, but the Leveret never stirred, and just when the dog came at it, he skipped over it, and turned about and stood still, and looked on it, and shortly after that dog languished and dyed." [17] See Bulstrode Whitelocke, _Memorials of English Affairs ..._ (London, 1682; Oxford, 1853), ed. of 1853, I, 501. [18] "H. F."'s publication is the _True and exact Relation_ cited above (note 11). He seems to have written it in the last of May, but inserted verdicts later in the margin. Arthur Wilson, who was present, says that 18 were executed; Francis Peck, _Desiderata Curiosa_ (London, 1732-1735; 1779), ed. of 1779, II, 476. But Hopkins writes that 29 were condemned at once and Stearne says about 28; quite possibly there were two trials at Chelmsford. There is only one other supposition, _i. e._, that Hopkins and Stearne confused the number originally accused with the number hanged. For further discussion of the somewhat conflicting evidence as to the number of these Essex witches and the dates of their trial see appendix C, under 1645. [19] _A Diary or an Exact Journall_, July 24-31, 1645, pp. 5-6. [20] _A True Relation of the Araignment of eighteene Witches at St. Edmundsbury ..._ (London, 1645), 9. [21] _Ibid._, 6. [22] _Ibid._ [23] John Gaule, _Select Cases of Conscience Touching Witches and Witchcrafts_ (London, 1646), 78, 79. [24] Queries 8 and 9 answered by Hopkins to the Norfolk assizes confirm Gaule's description. See Hopkins, 5. "Query 8. When these ... are fully discovered, yet that will not serve sufficiently to convict them, but they must be tortured and kept from sleep two or three nights, to distract them, and make them say anything; which is a way to tame a wilde Colt, or Hawke." "Query 9. Beside that unreasonable watching, they were extraordinarily walked, till their feet were blistered, and so forced through that cruelty to confess." Hopkins himself admitted the keeping of Elizabeth Clarke from sleep, but is careful to insert "upon command from the Justice." Hopkins, 2-3. On p. 5 he again refers to this point. Stearne, 61, uses the phrase "with consent of the justices." [25] Suffolk Institute of Archæology, _Proceedings_, X, 378. Baxter seems to have started the notion that Lowes was a "reading parson," or Anglican. [26] _Ibid._ [27] See _A Magazine of Scandall, or a heape of wickednesse of two infamous Ministers_ (London, 1642), where there is a deposition, dated August 4, 1641, that Lowes had been twice indicted and once arraigned for witchcraft, and convicted by law as "a common Barrettor" at the assizes in Suffolk. Stearne, 23, says he was charged as a "common imbarritor" over thirty years before. [28] This account of the torture is given, in a letter to Hutchinson, by a Mr. Rivet, who had "heard it from them that watched with him." It is in some measure confirmed by the MS. history of Brandeston quoted in _County Folk Lore, Suffolk_ (Folk Lore Soc.), 178, which adds the above-quoted testimony as to his litigiousness. [29] Stearne, 24. [30] _A True Relation of the Araignment of eighteene Witches_, 5; _Moderate Intelligencer_, September 4-11, 1645. [31] See Samuel Clarke, _Lives of sundry Eminent Persons ..._ (London, 1683), 172. In writing the life of Samuel Fairclough, Clarke used Fairclough's papers; see _ibid._, 163. [32] Fairclough was a Non-Conformist, but not actively sympathetic with Presbyterianism. Calamy was counted a Presbyterian. [33] Hopkins, 5-6; Stearne, 18. [34] One of these was Lowes. [35] _A True Relation of the Araignment of eighteene Witches._ [36] Stearne, 14. [37] _A True Relation of the Araignment of eighteene Witches_, 5. [38] _Ibid._; Stearne, 25. [39] Hutchinson speaks of repeated sessions. Stearne, 25, says: "by reason of an Allarum at Cambridge, the gaol delivery at Burie St. Edmunds was adjourned for about three weeks." As a matter of fact, the king's forces seem not to have got farther east than Bedford and Cambridge. See Whitelocke, _Memorials_, I, 501. [40] Stearne, 11, speaks of 68 condemnations. On p. 14 he tells of 18 who were executed at Bury, but this may have referred to the first group only. A MS. history of Brandeston quoted in _County Folk Lore, Suffolk_ (Folk Lore Soc.), 178, says that Lowes was executed with 59 more. It is not altogether certain, however, that this testimony is independent. Nevertheless, it contains pieces of information not in the other accounts, and so cannot be ignored. [41] _Moderate Intelligencer_, September 4-11, 1645. [42] Howell, _Familiar Letters_ (I use the ed. of Joseph Jacobs, London 1890-1892) II, 506, 515, 551. The letters quoted are dated as of Feb., 1646 (1647), and Feb., 1647 (1648 of our calendar); but, as is well known, Howell's dates cannot be trusted. The first was printed in the volume of his letters published in 1647, the others in that published in 1650. [43] Joseph Hall, _Soliloquies_ (London, 1651), 52-53. [44] Thomas Ady, _Candle in the Dark_ (London, 1656), 101-105. [45] The Rev. John Worthington attended the trial. In mentioning it in his diary, he made no comment. _Diary and Correspondence of Dr. John Worthington_, I (Chetham Soc., no. 13, 1847), 22. [46] So, at least, says Whitelocke, _Memorials_, I, 487. [47] J. G. Nall, _Great Yarmouth and Lowestoft_ (London, 1867), 92, note, quotes from the Yarmouth assembly book. Nall makes very careless statements, but his quotations from the assembly book may be depended upon. [48] _Ibid._ [49] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, IX, pt. i, 320. [50] The _Collection of Modern Relations_ says that sixteen were hanged, but this compilation was published forty-seven years after the events: the number 6 had been changed to 16. One witch seems to have suffered later, see Stearne, 53. The statement about the 16 witches hanged at Yarmouth may be found in practically all accounts of English witchcraft, _e. g._, see the recent essay on Hopkins by J. O. Jones, in Seccombe's _Twelve Bad Men_, 60. They can all be traced back through various lines to this source. [51] H. Manship, _History of Great Yarmouth_, continued by C. J. Palmer (Great Yarmouth, 1854-1856), where the Yarmouth records about Hopkins are given in full. See also H. Harrod, in _Norfolk Archæology_ (Norfolk and Norwich Arch. Soc., 1847-1864), IV, 249. [52] _The Lawes against Witches and Conjuration ..._ (London, 1645), 4. J. O. Jones, in his account of Hopkins, _loc. cit._, says that "many were hanged or burned in Ipswich." I believe that no authority can be cited for this statement. [53] The first is in, _A True Relation of the Araignment of eighteene Witches_, 5. We of course do not know that the sentence was carried out. [54] The master of a ship had been "sutor" for her grandchild; _The Lawes against Witches_, 8. She was a "professour of Religion, a constant hearer of the Word for these many years." [55] _Ibid._ [56] _I. e., The Lawes against Witches_ (London, 1645). See below, appendix A, § 4. [57] N. F. Hele, _Notes or Jottings about Aldeburgh_ (Ipswich, 1890), 43-44. [58] This was doubtless the fee to the executioner. Mr. Richard Browne and Mr. Newgate, who were either the justices of the peace or the local magistrates, received £4 apiece for their services in trying the witches. [59] A. G. Hollingsworth, _History of Stowmarket_ (Ipswich, 1844), 170. [60] For a list of these towns, see below, appendix C, under 1645, Suffolk. [61] Stearne, 45, two instances. [62] _Ibid._, 37, 39, 45. [63] Thomas Ady, _A Candle in the Dark_, 135. [64] Stearne, 39. [65] His whole confession reads like the utterance of a tortured man. [66] He had previously been found with a rope around his neck. This was of course attributed to witchcraft. Stearne, 35. [67] _Ibid._, 11. [68] John Wynnick and Joane Wallis made effective confessions. The first, when in the heat of passion at the loss of a purse, had signed his soul away (Stearne, 20-21; see also the pamphlet, the dedication of which is signed by John Davenport, entitled, _The Witches of Huntingdon, their Examinations and Confessions ..._ London, 1646, 3). The latter maintained a troop of imps, among whom Blackeman, Grissell, and Greedigut figured most prominently. The half-witted creature could not recall the names on the repetition of her confessions, but this failing does not seem to have awakened any doubt of her guilt. Stearne could not avoid noticing that some of those who suffered were very religious. One woman, who had kept an imp for twenty-one years, "did resort to church and had a desire to be rid of her unhappy burden." [69] _I. e._, witches. [70] This letter is printed by Gaule at the opening of his _Select Cases of Conscience Touching Witches and Witchcrafts_. [71] Stearne, 11; _cf._ below, appendix C, 1646 (pp. 405-406). [72] That it was done by the justices of the peace is a probable conclusion from Stearne's language. See his account of Joane Wallis, p. 13, also his account of John Wynnick, pp. 20-21. That the examinations were in March and April (see John Davenport's account, _The Witches of Huntingdon_) and the executions in May is a fact confirmatory of this; see Stearne, 11. But it is more to the point that John Davenport dedicates his pamphlet to the justices of the peace for the county of Huntingdon, and says: "You were present, and Judges at the Tryall and Conviction of them." [73] The swimming ordeal was perhaps unofficial; see Stearne, 19. Another case was that of Elizabeth Chandler, who was "duckt"; _Witches of Huntingdon_, 8. [74] Tilbrooke-bushes, Stearne, 11; Risden, _ibid._, 31. [75] This may be inferred from Stearne's words: "but afterward I heard that she made a very large confession," _ibid._, 31. [76] Thomas Wright, John Ashton, J. O. Jones, and the other writers who have dealt with Hopkins, speak of the Worcester trials, in 1647, in which four women are said to have been hanged. Their statements are all based upon a pamphlet, _The Full Tryals, Examination, and Condemnation of Four Notorious Witches at the Assizes held at Worcester on Tuseday the 4th of March.... Printed for I. W._ What seems to have been the first edition of this brochure bears no date. In 1700 another edition was printed for "J. M." in Fleet Street. Some writer on witchcraft gained the notion that this pamphlet belonged in the year 1647 and dealt with events in that year. Wright, John Ashton, and W. H. Davenport Adams (_Witch, Warlock, and Magician_, London, 1889), all accept this date. An examination of the pamphlet shows that it was cleverly put together from the _True and Exact Relation_ of 1645. The four accused bear the names of four of those accused at Chelmsford, and make, with a few differences, the same confessions. See below, appendix A, § 4, for a further discussion of this pamphlet. It is strange that so careful a student as Thomas Wright should have been deceived by this pamphlet, especially since he noticed that the confessions were "imitations" of those in Essex. [77] A. Gibbons, ed., _Ely Episcopal Records_ (Lincoln, 1891), 112-113. [78] Stearne, 37. [79] That there were assizes is proved by the statement that "Moore's wife" confessed before the "Judge, Bench, and Country," _ibid._, 21-22, as well as by the reference in the _Ely Episcopal Records_, 113, to the "assizes." [80] Stearne, 17, 21-22. [81] For a clear statement of this point of view, see _ibid._, 40-50. [82] Stearne, 46-47. [83] _Ibid._, 50. [84] _Ibid._, 17. [85] _Ibid._, 13. [86] _Ibid._, 14. [87] Hopkins, 5. But Hopkins was not telling the exact truth here. When he was at Aldeburgh in September (8th) the accused were watched day and night. See chamberlain's accounts, in N. F. Hele, _Notes or Jottings about Aldeburgh_, 43. [88] Hopkins, 7. [89] Hopkins, 9. [90] Stearne, 18. Hopkins did not attempt to deny the use of the ordeal. He supported himself by quoting James; see Hopkins, 6. [91] Stearne, 18. He means, of course, Serjeant Godbolt. [92] See Stearne, in his preface to the reader, also p. 61; and see also the complete title of Hopkins's book as given in appendix A (p. 362). [93] A similar case was that of Anne Binkes, to whom Stearne refers on p. 54. He says she confessed to him her guilt. "Was this woman fitting to live?... I am sure she was living not long since, and acquitted upon her trial." [94] Not until after Stearne was already busy elsewhere. Stearne, 58. [95] It would seem, too, that Stearne was sued for recovery of sums paid him. "Many rather fall upon me for what hath been received; but I hope such suits will be disannulled." Stearne, 60. [96] Hopkins, 11. [97] _County Folk Lore, Suffolk_ (Folk Lore Soc.) 176, quoting from J. T. Varden in the _East Anglian Handbook_ for 1885, p. 89. [98] James Howell, _Familiar Letters_, II, 551. Howell, of course, may easily have counted convictions as executions. Moreover, it was a time when rumors were flying about, and Howell would not have taken the pains to sift them. Yet his agreement with Stearne in numbers is remarkable. Somewhat earlier, (the letter is dated February 3, 1646/7) Howell had written that "in Essex and Suffolk there were above two hundred indicted within these two years and above the one half executed" (_ibid._, 506). But, as noted above, his dates are not to be trusted. [99] See his _History of Rationalism_. [100] A name no greater, however, than that of Glanvill, who was a prominent Anglican. [101] It does not belong in this connection, but it should be stated, that one of the strongest reasons for supposing the Presbyterian party largely responsible for the persecution of witches lies in the large number of witches in Scotland throughout the whole period of that party's ascendancy. This is an argument that can hardly be successfully answered. Yet it is a legitimate question whether the witch-hunting proclivities of the north were not as much the outcome of Scottish laws and manners as of Scottish religion. [102] The _Magazine of Scandall_, speaking of Lowes and another man, says: "Their Religion is either none, or else as the wind blows: If the ceremonies be tending to Popery, none so forward as they, and if there be orders cleane contrary they shall exceed any Round-head in the Ile of great Brittain." See also above, pp. 175-177. [103] Yet it must not be overlooked that Stearne himself, who must have known well the religious sympathies of his opponents, asks, p. 58, "And who are they that have been against the prosecution ... but onely such as (without offence I may speak it) be enemies to the Church of God?" He dares not mention names, "not onely for fear of offence, but also for suits of Law." [104] Scott has pictured this very well in _Woodstock_. For a good example of it see _The [D]Ivell in Kent, or His strange Delusions at Sandwitch_ (London, 1647). [105] See below, note 107. [106] The witches of Aldeburgh were tried at the "sessions," N. F. Hele, _op. cit._, 43-44. Mother Lakeland was probably condemned by the justices of the peace; see _The Lawes against Witches_. The witches of Huntingdon were tried by the justices of the peace; see above, note 73. As for the trials in Norfolk, Northamptonshire, Bedfordshire, and Cambridgeshire, it is fairly safe to reason that they were conducted by the justices of the peace from other evidence which we have that there were no assizes during the last half of 1645 and the first five months of 1646; see Whitelocke, _Memorials_, II, 31, 44, 64. [107] For a few of the evidences of this situation during these years see James Thompson, _Leicester_ (Leicester, 1849), 401; _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, I, 109-110, 322; XIII, 4, p. 216 (note gaps in the records); Whitelocke, _Memorials_, I, 436; II, 31, 44, 64, 196; III, 152. Innumerable other references could be added to prove this point. F. A. Inderwick in his _Interregnum_ (London, 1891), 153, goes so far as to say that "from the autumn of 1642 to the autumn of 1646 no judges went the circuits." This seems rather a sweeping statement. [108] See _The Examination, Confession_, etc. (London, 1645). Joan Williford, Joan Cariden, and Jane Hott were tried. The first two quickly confessed to the keeping of imps. Not so Jane Hott, who urged the others to confess and "stoode to it very perversely that she was cleare." When put to the swimming test she floated, and is said to have then declared that the Devil "had sat upon a Cross beame and laughed at her." Elizabeth Harris was examined, and gave some damaging evidence against herself. She named several goodwives who had very loose tongues. [109] Stearne, 13, 14. CHAPTER IX. WITCHCRAFT DURING THE COMMONWEALTH AND PROTECTORATE. We have, in the last chapter, traced the history of witchcraft in England through the Hopkins episode of 1645-1647. From the trials at Ely in the autumn of 1647 to the discoveries at Berwick in the summer of 1649 there was a lull in the witch alarms. Then an epidemic broke out in the north of England. We shall, in this chapter, describe that epidemic and shall carry the narrative of the important cases from that time to the Restoration. In doing this we shall mark off two periods, one from 1649 to 1653, when the executions were still numerous, and a second from 1653 to 1659 when there was a rapid falling off, not only in death penalties for witchcraft, but even in accusations. To be sure, this division is somewhat artificial, for there was a gradual decline of the attack throughout the two periods, but the year 1653 more nearly than any other marks the year when that decline became visible. The epidemic of 1649 came from Scotland. Throughout the year the northern kingdom had been "infested."[1] From one end of that realm to the other the witch fires had been burning. It was not to be supposed that they should be suddenly extinguished when they reached the border. In July the guild of Berwick had invited a Scotchman who had gained great fame as a "pricker" to come to Berwick, and had promised him immunity from all violence.[2] He came and proceeded to apply his methods of detection. They rested upon the assumption that a witch had insensible spots on her body, and that these could be found by driving in a pin. By such processes he discovered thirty witches, who were sent to gaol. Some of them made confessions but refused to admit that they had injured any one.[3] On the contrary, they had assisted Cromwell, so some of the more ingenious of them claimed, at the battle of Preston.[4] Whether this helped their case we do not know, for we are not told the outcome. It seems almost certain, however, that few, if any, of them suffered death. But the pricker went back to Scotland with thirty pounds, the arrangement having been that he was to receive twenty shillings a witch. He was soon called upon again. In December of the same year the town of Newcastle underwent a scare. Two citizens, probably serjeants, applied the test with such success that in March (1649/50) a body of citizens petitioned the common council that some definite steps be taken about the witches. The council accepted the suggestion and despatched two serjeants, doubtless the men already engaged in the work, to Scotland to engage the witch-pricker. He was brought to Newcastle with the definite contract that he was to have his passage going and coming and twenty shillings apiece for every witch he found. The magistrates did everything possible to help him. On his arrival in Newcastle they sent the bellman through the town inviting every one to make complaints.[5] In this business-like way they collected thirty women at the town hall, stripped them, and put them to the pricking test. This cruel, not to say indelicate, process was carried on with additions that must have proved highly diverting to the base-minded prickers and onlookers.[6] Fourteen women and one man were tried (Gardiner says by the assizes) and found guilty. Without exception they asserted their innocence; but this availed not. In August of 1650 they were executed on the town moor[7] of Newcastle.[8] The witchfinder continued his activities in the north, but a storm was rising against him. Henry Ogle, a late member of Parliament, caused him to be jailed and put under bond to answer the sessions.[9] Unfortunately the man got away to Scotland, where he later suffered death for his deeds, probably during the Cromwellian regime in that country.[10] We have seen that Henry Ogle had driven the Scotch pricker out of the country. He participated in another witch affair during this same period which is quite as much to his credit. The children of George Muschamp, in Northumberland, had been troubled for two years (1645-1647) with strange convulsions.[11] The family suspected Dorothy Swinow, who was the wife of Colonel Swinow. It seems that the colonel's wife had, at some time, spoken harshly to one of the children. No doubt the sick little girl heard what they said. At any rate her ravings began to take the form of accusations against the suspected woman. The family consulted John Hulton, "who could do more then God allowed," and he accused Colonel Swinow's wife. But unfortunately for him the child had been much better during his presence, and he too was suspected. The mother of the children now rode to a justice of the peace, who sent for Hulton, but not for Mistress Swinow. Then the woman appealed to the assizes, but the judge, "falsely informed," took no action. Mrs. Muschamp was persistent, and in the town of Berwick she was able, at length, to procure the arrest of the woman she feared. But Dorothy Swinow was not without friends, who interfered successfully in her behalf. Mrs. Muschamp now went to a "counsellor," who refused to meddle with the matter, and then to a judge, who directed her to go to Durham. She did so and got a warrant; but it was not obeyed. She then procured a second warrant, and apparently succeeded in getting an indictment. But it did her little good: Dorothy Swinow was not apprehended. One can hardly refrain from smiling a little at the unhappy Mrs. Muschamp and her zealous assistants, the "physician" and the two clergymen. But her poor daughters grew worse, and the sick child, who had before seen angels in her convulsions, now saw the colonel's wife and cried out in her ravings against the remiss judge.[12] The case is at once pathetic and amusing, but it has withal a certain significance. It was not only Mrs. Swinow's social position that saved her, though that doubtless carried weight. It was the reluctance of the north-country justices to follow up accusations. Not that they had done with trials. Two capital sentences at Durham and another at Gateshead, although perhaps after-effects of the Scotch pricker's activity, showed that the witch was still feared; but such cases were exceptions. In general, the cases resulted in acquittals. We shall see, in another chapter, that the discovery which alarmed Yorkshire and Northumberland in 1673 almost certainly had this outcome; and the cases tried at that time formed the last chapter in northern witchcraft. But, if hanging witches was not easy in the north, there were still districts in the southwest of England where it could be done, with few to say nay. Anne Bodenham,[13] of Fisherton Anger in Wiltshire, had not the social position of Dorothy Swinow, but she was the wife of a clothier who had lived "in good fashion," and in her old age she taught children to read. She had, it seems, been in earlier life an apt pupil of Dr. Lambe, and had learned from him the practice of magic lore. She drew magic circles, saw visions of people in a glass, possessed numerous charms and incantations, and, above all, kept a wonderful magic book. She attempted to find lost money, to tell the future, and to cure disease; indeed, she had a varied repertoire of occult performances. Now, Mistress Bodenham did all these things for money and roused no antagonism in her community until she was unfortunate enough to have dealings with a maid-servant in a Wiltshire family. It is impossible to get behind the few hints given us by the cautious writer. The members of the family, evidently one of some standing in Wiltshire, became involved in a quarrel among themselves. It was believed, indeed, by neighbors that there had been a conspiracy on the part of some of the family to poison the mother-in-law. At all events, a maid in the family was imprisoned for participation in such a plot. It was then that Anne Bodenham first came into the story. The maid, to judge from the few data we have, in order to distract attention from her own doings, made a confession that she had signed a book of the Devil's with her own blood, all at the instigation of Anne Bodenham. Moreover, Anne, she said, had offered to send her to London in two hours. This was communicated to a justice of the peace, who promptly took the accused woman into custody. The maid-servant, successful thus far, began to simulate fits and to lay the blame for them on Mistress Anne. Questioned as to what she conceived her condition, she replied, "Oh very damnable, very wretched." She could see the Devil, she said, on the housetop looking at her. These fancies passed as facts, and the accused woman was put to the usual humiliations. She was searched, examined, and urged to confess. The narrator of the story made effort after effort to wring from her an admission of her guilt, but she slipped out of all his traps. Against her accuser she was very bitter. "She hath undone me ... that am an honest woman, 'twill break my Husband's heart, he grieves to see me in these Irons: I did once live in good fashion." The case was turned over by the justices of the peace to the assizes at Salisbury, where Chief Baron John Wylde of the exchequer presided.[14] The testimony of the maid was brought in, as well as the other proofs.[15] All we know of the trial is that Anne was condemned, and that Judge Wylde was so well satisfied with his work that he urged Edmund Bower, who had begun an account of the case, but had hesitated to expose himself to "this Censorious Age," to go on with his booklet. That detestable individual had followed the case closely. After the condemnation he labored with the woman to make her confess. But no acknowledgment of guilt could be wrung from the high-spirited Mistress Bodenham, even when the would-be father confessor held out to her the false hope of mercy. She made a will giving gifts to thirty people, declared she had been robbed by her maids in prison, lamented over her husband's sorrow, and requested that she be buried under the gallows. Like the McPherson who danced so wantonly and rantingly beneath the gallows tree, she remained brave-hearted to the end. When the officer told her she must go with him to the place of execution, she replied, "Be you ready, I am ready." The narrator closes the account with some moral reflections. We may close with the observation that there is no finer instance of womanly courage in the annals of witchcraft than that of Anne Bodenham. Doubtless she had used charms, and experimented with glasses; it had been done by those of higher rank than she. As for the maid, she had got herself well out of trouble. When Mistress Bodenham had been hanged, the fits ceased, and she professed great thankfulness to God and a desire to serve him. The case of Joan Peterson, who was tried at the Old Bailey in 1652, is another instance of the struggle of a spirited woman against too great odds. Joan, like Mistress Bodenham, kept various kinds of powders and prescribed physic for ailing neighbors.[16] It was, however, if we may believe her defender, not on account of her prescriptions, but rather on account of her refusal to swear falsely, that her downfall came. One would be glad to know the name of the vigorous defender who after her execution issued _A Declaration in Answer to severall lying Pamphlets concerning the Witch of Wapping_. His narrative of the plot against the accused woman offers a plausible explanation of the affair and is not improbably trustworthy. As he tells the story, there were certain relatives of Lady Powell who had been disappointed that her estate had been bequeathed to Mrs. Anne Levingston. They conspired to get rid of the heiress, went to a cunning woman, and offered to pay her liberally if she would swear that Mrs. Levingston had used sorcery to take away the life of Lady Powell. Unfortunately for the conspirators, the cunning woman betrayed their schemes. Not discouraged, however, they employed another woman, who, as their representative, went to Joan Peterson and offered her a hundred pounds to swear that Mrs. Levingston had procured from her "certain powders and bags of seeds." Joan refused the proposition, and the plotters, fearing a second exposure of their plans, determined that Mistress Peterson should also be put out of the way. They were able to procure a warrant to have her arrested and searched. Great pressure was put upon her to confess enough to implicate Mrs. Levingston and she was given to understand that if she would do so she would herself be spared. But Joan refused their proffers and went to her trial. If the narrative may be at all trusted there was little effort to give her a fair hearing. Witnesses against her were purchased in advance, strangers were offered money to testify against her, and those who were to have given evidence on her side were most of them intimidated into staying away from the trial. Four physicians and two surgeons signed a certificate that Lady Powell had died from perfectly natural causes. It was of no avail. Joan was convicted and died bravely, denying her guilt to the end.[17] Her defender avers that some of the magistrates in the case were involved in the conspiracy against her. One of these was Sir John Danvers, a member of Cromwell's council. In the margin of his account the pamphleteer writes: "Sir John Danvers came and dined at the Sessions house and had much private discourse with the Recorder and many of the Justices and came and sate upon the Bench at her Trial, where he hath seldom or never been for these many years." In July of 1652 occurred another trial that attracted notice in its own time. Six Kentish women were tried at the assizes at Maidstone before Peter Warburton.[18] We know almost nothing of the evidence offered by the prosecution save that there was exhibited in the Swan Inn at Maidstone a piece of flesh which the Devil was said to have given to one of the accused, and that a waxen image of a little girl figured in the evidence. Some of the accused confessed that they had used it in order to kill the child. Search was instituted for it, and it was found, if the narrator may be trusted, under the door where the witches had said it would be.[19] The six were all condemned and suffered execution. Several others were arraigned, but probably escaped trial. If the age was as "censorious" of things of this nature as Edmund Bower had believed it to be, it is rather remarkable that "these proceedings," which were within a short distance of London, excited so little stir in that metropolis. Elias Ashmole, founder of the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford and delver in astrology, attended the trials, with John Tradescant, traveller and gardener.[20] He left no comments. The _Faithful Scout_, in its issue of July 30-August 7, mentioned the trial and the confessions, but refrained from any expression of opinion. There were other trials in this period; but they must be passed over rapidly. The physicians were quite as busy as ever in suggesting witchcraft. We can detect the hand of a physician in the attribution of the strange illness of a girl who discharged great quantities of stones to the contrivance of Catherine Huxley, who was, in consequence, hanged at Worcester.[21] In a case at Exeter the physician was only indirectly responsible. When Grace Matthews had consulted him about her husband's illness, he had apparently given up the case, and directed her to a wise woman.[22] The wise woman had warned Mistress Matthews of a neighbor "tall of stature and of a pale face and blinking eye," against whom it would be well to use certain prescribed remedies. Mrs. Matthews did so, and roused out the witch, who proved to be a butcher's wife, Joan Baker. When the witch found her spells thwarted, she turned them against Mrs. Matthews's maid-servant, who in consequence died. This was part of the evidence against Joan, and it was confirmed by her own kinsfolk: her father-in-law had seen her handling toads. She was committed, but we hear no more of the case. That random accusations were not feared as they had been was evidenced by the boldness of suspected parties in bringing action against their accusers, even if boldness was sometimes misjudged. We have two actions of this sort. Joan Read of Devizes had been reported to be a witch, and on that account had been refused by the bakers the privilege of using their bakeries for her dough.[23] She threw down the glove to her accusers by demanding that they should be brought by warrant to accuse her. No doubt she realized that she had good support in her community, and that her challenge was not likely to be accepted. But a woman near Land's End in Cornwall seems to have overestimated the support upon which she could count. She had procured a warrant against her accusers to call the case before the mayor. The court sided with the accusers and the woman was brought to trial. Caught herself, she proceeded to ensnare others. As a result, eight persons were sent to Launceston,[24] and some probably suffered death.[25] We have already seen what a tangled web Mrs. Muschamp wove when she set out to imprison a colonel's wife. It would be easy to cite cases to show the same reluctance to follow up prosecution. Four women at Leicester searched Ann Chettle and found no evidence of guilt.[26] In Durham a case came up before Justice Henry Tempest.[27] Mary Sykes was accused. Sara Rodes, a child, awakening from sleep in a fright, had declared to her mother that "Sikes' wife" had come in "att a hole att the bedd feete" and taken her by the throat. Of course Sara Rodes fell ill. Moreover, the witch had been seen riding at midnight on the back of a cow and at another time flying out of a "mistall windowe." But the woman, in spite of the unfavorable opinion of the women searchers, went free. There were cases that seem to have ended the same way at York, at Leeds, and at Scarborough. They were hints of what we have already noticed, that the northern counties were changing their attitude.[28] But a case in Derbyshire deserves more attention because the justice, Gervase Bennett, was one of the members of Cromwell's council. The case itself was not in any way unusual. A beggar woman, who had been liberally supported by those who feared her, was on trial for witchcraft. Because of Bennett's close relation to the government, we should be glad to know what he did with the case, but the fact that the woman's conviction is not among the records makes it probable that she was not bound over to the assizes.[29] We come now to examine the second of the sub-periods into which we have divided the Interregnum. We have been dealing with the interval between the war and the establishment of the Protectorate, a time that shaded off from the dark shadows of internecine struggle towards the high light of steady peace and security. By 1653 the equilibrium of England had been restored. Cromwell's government was beginning to run smoothly. The courts were in full swing. None of those conditions to which we have attributed the spread of the witch alarms of the Civil Wars were any longer in operation. It is not surprising, then, that the Protectorate was one of the most quiet periods in the annals of witchcraft. While the years 1648-1653 had witnessed thirty executions in England, the period of the Protectorate saw but half a dozen, and three of these fell within the somewhat disturbed rule of Richard Cromwell.[30] In other words, there was a very marked falling off of convictions for witchcraft, a falling off that had indeed begun before the year 1653. Yet this diminution of capital sentences does not by any means signify that the realm was rid of superstition. In Middlesex, in Somerset and Devon, in York, Northumberland, and Cumberland, the attack upon witches on the part of the people was going on with undiminished vigor. If no great discoveries were made, if no nests of the pestilent creatures were unearthed, the justices of the peace were kept quite as busy with examinations as ever before. To be sure, an analysis of cases proves that a larger proportion of those haled to court were light offenders, "good witches" whose healing arts had perhaps been unsuccessful, dealers in magic who had aroused envy or fear. The court records of Middlesex and York are full of complaints against the professional enchanters. In most instances they were dismissed. Now and then a woman was sent to the house of correction,[31] but even this punishment was the exception. Two other kinds of cases appeared with less frequency. We have one very clear instance at Wakefield, in York, where a quarrel between two tenant farmers over their highway rights became so bitter that a chance threat uttered by the loser of the lawsuit, "It shall be a dear day's work for you," occasioned an accusation of witchcraft.[32] In another instance the debt of a penny seems to have been the beginning of a hatred between two impecunious creatures, and this brought on a charge.[33] The most common type of case, of course, was that where strange disease or death played a part. In Yorkshire, in Hertfordshire, and in Cornwall there were trials based upon a sort of evidence with which the reader is already quite familiar. It was easy for the morbid mother of a dead child to recall or imagine angry words spoken to her shortly before the death of her offspring. It was quite as natural for a sick child to be alarmed at the sight of a visitor and go into spasms. There was no fixed rule, however, governing the relation of the afflicted children and the possible witches. When William Wade was named, Elizabeth Mallory would fly into fits.[34] When Jane Brooks entered the room, a bewitched youth of Chard would become hysterical.[35] It was the opposite way with a victim in Exeter,[36] who remained well only so long as the witch who caused the trouble stayed with him.[37] Closely related to these types of evidence was what has been denominated spectral evidence, a form of evidence recurrent throughout the history of English witchcraft. In the time of the Protectorate we have at least three cases of the kind. The accused woman appeared to the afflicted individual now in her own form, again in other shapes, as a cat, as a bee, or as a dog.[38] The identification of a particular face in the head of a bee must have been a matter of some difficulty, but there is no ground for supposing that any objection was made to this evidence in court. At all events, the testimony went down on the official records in Yorkshire. In Somerset the Jane Brooks case,[39] already referred to, called forth spectral evidence in a form that must really have been very convincing. When the bewitched boy cried out that he saw the witch on the wall, his cousin struck at the place, upon which the boy cried out, "O Father, Coz Gibson hath cut Jane Brooks's hand, and 'tis bloody." Now, according to the story, the constable proceeded to the woman's house and found her hand cut. As to the social status of the people involved in the Protectorate trials there is little to say, other than has been said of many earlier cases. By far the larger number of those accused, as we have already pointed out, were charmers and enchanters, people who made a penny here and twopence there, but who had at best a precarious existence. Some of them, no doubt, traded on the fear they inspired in their communities and begged now a loaf of bread and now a pot of beer. They were the same people who, when begging and enchanting failed, resorted to stealing.[40] In one of the Yorkshire depositions we have perhaps a hint of another class from which the witches were recruited. Katherine Earle struck a Mr. Frank between the shoulders and said, "You are a pretty gentleman; will you kisse me?" When the man happened to die this solicitation assumed a serious aspect.[41] Witchcraft was indeed so often the outcome of lower-class bickering that trials involving the upper classes seem worthy of special record. During the Protectorate there were two rather remarkable trials. In 1656 William and Mary Wade were accused of bewitching the fourteen-year-old daughter of Elizabeth Mallory of Studley Hall. The Mallorys were a prominent family in Yorkshire. The grandfather of the accusing child had been a member of Parliament and was a well known Royalist colonel. When Mistress Elizabeth declared that her fits would not cease until Mary Wade had said that she had done her wrong, Mary Wade was persuaded to say the words. Elizabeth was well at once, but Mary withdrew her admission and Elizabeth resumed her fits, indeed "she was paste holdinge, her extreamaty was such." She now demanded that the two Wades should be imprisoned, and when they were "both in holde" she became well again. They were examined by a justice of the peace, but were probably let off.[42] The story of Diana Crosse at Exeter is a more pathetic one. Mrs. Crosse had once kept a girls' school--could it be that there was some connection between teaching and witchcraft?[43]--had met with misfortune, and had at length been reduced to beggary. We have no means of knowing whether the suspicion of witchcraft antedated her extreme poverty or not, but it seems quite clear that the former school-teacher had gained an ill name in the community. She resented bitterly the attitude of the people, and at one time seems to have appealed to the mayor. It was perhaps by this very act that she focussed the suspicion of her neighbors. To go over the details of the trial is not worth while. Diana Crosse probably escaped execution to eke out the remainder of her life in beggary.[44] The districts of England affected by the delusion during this period have already been indicated. While there were random cases in Suffolk, Hertfordshire, Wiltshire, Somerset, Cumberland, and Northumberland, by far the greatest activity seems to have been in Middlesex, Cornwall, and Yorkshire. To a layman it looks as if the north of England had produced the greater part of its folk-lore. Certain it is that the witch stories of Yorkshire, as those of Lancaster at another time, by their mysterious and romantic elements made the trials of the south seem flat, stale, and unprofitable. Yet they rarely had as serious results. To the historian the Middlesex cases must be more interesting because they should afford some index of the attitude of the central government. Unhappily we do not know the fate of the Yorkshire witches, though it has been surmised, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, that they all escaped execution.[45] In Middlesex we know that during this period only one woman, so far as our extant records go, was adjudged guilty. All the rest were let go free. Now, this may be significant and it may not. It does not seem unreasonable to suppose that the Middlesex quarter sessions were in harmony with the central government. Yet this can be no more than a guess. It is not easy to take bearings which will locate the position of the Cromwellian government. The protector himself was occupied with weightier matters, and, so far as we know, never uttered a word on the subject. He was almost certainly responsible for the pardon of Margaret Gyngell at Salisbury in 1655,[46] yet we cannot be sure that he was not guided in that case by special circumstances as well as by the recommendation of subordinates. We have but little more evidence as to the attitude of his council of state. It was three years before the Protectorate was put into operation that the hesitating sheriff of Cumberland, who had some witches on his hands, was authorized to go ahead and carry out the law.[47] But on the other hand it was in the same period that the English commissioners in Scotland put a quietus on the witch alarms in that kingdom. In fact, one of their first acts was to take over the accused women from the church courts and demand the proof against them.[48] When it was found that they had been tortured into confessions, the commission resolved upon an enquiry into the conduct of the sheriff, ministers, and tormentors who had been involved. Several women had been accused. Not one was condemned. The matter was referred to the council of state, where it seems likely that the action of the commissioners was ratified. Seven or eight years later, in the administration of Richard Cromwell, there was an instance where the council, apparently of its own initiative, ordered a party of soldiers to arrest a Rutlandshire witch. The case was, however, dismissed later.[49] To draw a definite conclusion from these bits of evidence would be rash. We can perhaps reason somewhat from the general attitude of the government. Throughout the Protectorate there was a tendency, which Cromwell encouraged, to mollify the rigor of the criminal law. Great numbers of pardons were issued; and when Whitelocke suggested that no offences should be capital except murder, treason, and rebellion, no one arose in holy horror to point out the exception of witchcraft,[50] and the suggestion, though never acted upon, was favorably considered.[51] When we consider this general attitude towards crime in connection with what we have already indicated about the rapid decline in numbers of witch convictions, it seems a safe guess that the Cromwellian government, while not greatly interested in witchcraft, was, so far as interested, inclined towards leniency. [1] Whitelocke, _Memorials_, III, 63, 97, 99, 113. [2] See an extract from the Guild Hall Books in John Fuller, _History of Berwick_ (Edinburgh, 1799), 155-156. [3] Thomas Widdrington's letter to Whitelocke (Whitelocke, _Memorials_, III, 99). Widdrington said the man professed himself "an artist that way." The writer was evidently somewhat skeptical. [4] _Ibid._ [5] Ralph Gardiner, _England's Grievance Discovered in Relation to the Coal Trade_ (London, 1655), 108. [6] _Ibid._ [7] See John Brand, _History and Antiquities of ... Newcastle_ (London, 1789), II, 478, or the _Chronicon Mirabile_ (London, 1841), 92, for an extract from the parish registers, giving the names. A witch of rural Northumberland was executed with them. [8] The witches of 1649 were not confined to the north. Two are said to have been executed at St. Albans, a man and a woman; one woman was tried in Worcestershire, one at Gloucester, and two in Middlesex. John Palmer and Elizabeth Knott, who suffered at St. Albans, had gained some notoriety. Palmer had contracted with the Devil and had persuaded his kinswoman to assist him in procuring the death of a woman by the use of clay pictures. Both were probably practitioners in magic. Palmer, even when in prison, claimed the power of transforming men into beasts. The woman seems to have been put to the swimming test. Both were condemned. Palmer, at his execution, gave information about a "whole colledge of witches," most of them, no doubt, practisers like himself, but his random accusations were probably passed over. See _The Divels Delusions or A faithfull relation of John Palmer and Elizabeth Knott ..._ (1649). [9] Ralph Gardiner, _op. cit._, 109. [10] See _ibid._ At his execution, Gardiner says, he confessed that he had been the death of 220 witches in Scotland and England. Either the man was guilty of unseemly and boastful lying, which is very likely, or Scotland was indeed badly "infested." See above, note 1. [11] This narrative is contained in _Wonderfull News from the North, Or a True Relation of the Sad and Grievous Torments Inflicted upon ... three Children of Mr. George Muschamp ..._ (London, 1650). [12] The story of the case was sent down to London and there published, where it soon became a classic among the witch-believing clergy. [13] See the two pamphlets by Edmond Bower described below in appendix A, § 5, and Henry More, _Antidote against Atheisme_, bk. III, ch. VII. [14] Wylde was not well esteemed as a judge. On the institution of the protectorate he was not reappointed by Cromwell. [15] Aubrey (who had it from an eye-witness) tells us that "the crowd of spectators made such a noise that the judge could not heare the prisoner, nor the prisoner the judge; but the words were handed from one to the other by Mr. R. Chandler and sometimes not truly repeated." John Aubrey, _Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme ..._ (ed. J. Britten, _Folk Lore Soc. Publications_, IV, 1881), 261. [16] For the case see _The Tryall and Examinations of Mrs. Joan Peterson ..._; _The Witch of Wapping, or an Exact ... Relation of the ... Practises of Joan Peterson ..._; _A Declaration in Answer to severall lying Pamphlets concerning the Witch of Wapping ..._, (as to these pamphlets, all printed at London in 1652, see below, appendix A, § 5); _French Intelligencer_, April 6-13, 1652; _Weekly Intelligencer_, April 6-13, 1652; _The Faithful Scout_, April 9-16, 1652; _Mercurius Democritus_, April 7-17, 1652. [17] The _French Intelligencer_ tells us the story of her execution: "She seemed to be much dejected, having a melancholy aspect; she seemed not to be much above 40 years of age, and was not in the least outwardly deformed, as those kind of creatures usually are." [18] For an account of this affair see _A Prodigious and Tragicall History of the ... Condemnation of six Witches at Maidstone ..._ (London, 1652). [19] It was "supposed," says the narrator, that nine children, besides a man and a woman, had suffered at their hands, £500 worth of cattle had been lost, and much corn wrecked at sea. Two of the women made confession, but not to these things. [20] See Ashmole's diary as given in Charles Burman, _Lives of Elias Ashmole, Esq., and Mr. William Lilly, written by themselves ..._ (London, 1774), 316. [21] In his _Certainty of the World of Spirits_ (London, 1691), 44, 45, Richard Baxter, who is by no means absolutely reliable, tells us about this case. It should be understood that it is only a guess of the writer that the physician was to blame for the accusation; but it much resembles other cases where the physician started the trouble. [22] William Cotton, _Gleanings from the Municipal and Cathedral Records Relative to the History of the City of Exeter_ (Exeter, 1877), 149-150. [23] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, I, 127. [24] _Mercurius Politicus_, November 24-December 2, 1653. One of these witches was perhaps the one mentioned as from Launceston in Cornwall in R. and O. B. Peter, _The Histories of Launceston and Dunheved_ (Plymouth, 1885), 285: "the grave in w^ch the wich was buryed." [25] Richard Burthogge, _An Essay upon Reason and the Nature of Spirits_ (London, 1694), 196, writes that he has the confessions in MS. of "a great number of Witches (some of which were Executed) that were taken by a Justice of Peace in Cornwall above thirty Years agoe." It does not seem impossible that this is a reference to the same affair as that mentioned by the Launceston record. [26] _Leicestershire and Rutland Notes and Queries_ (Leicester, 1891, etc.), I, 247. [27] James Raine, ed., _A Selection from the Depositions in Criminal Cases taken before the Northern Magistrates, from the Originals preserved in York Castle_ (Surtees Soc., no. 40, 1861), 28-30. Cited hereafter as _York Depositions_. [28] Yet in 1650 there had been a scare at Gateshead which cost the rate payers £2, of which a significant item was 6 d. for a "grave for a witch." _Denham Tracts_ (Folk Lore Soc.), II, 338. At Durham, in 1652, two persons were executed. Richardson, _Table Book_ (London, 1841), I, 286. [29] J. C. Cox, _Three Centuries of Derbyshire Annals_ (London, 1890), II, 88. Cox, however, thinks it probable that she was punished. [30] It is of course not altogether safe to reason from the absence of recorded executions, and it is least safe in the time of the Civil Wars and the years of recovery. [31] _Middlesex County Records_, ed. by J. C. Jeaffreson (London, 1892), III, 295; _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, I, 129. [32] _York Depositions_, 74. [33] _Hertfordshire County Sessions Rolls_, compiled by W. J. Hardy (Hertford, 1905), I, 126. It is not absolutely certain in the second case that the committal was to the house of correction. [34] _York Depositions_, 76-77. [35] Joseph Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ (London, 1681), pt. ii, 122. [36] Cotton, _Gleanings ... relative to the History of ... Exeter_, 152. [37] In the famous Warboys case of 1593 it was the witch's presence that relieved the bewitched of their ailments. [38] _York Depositions_, 64-67. [39] Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 120-121. [40] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, I, 120. [41] _York Depositions_, 69. [42] _Ibid._, 75-78. [43] See the story of Anne Bodenham. [44] Cotton, _Gleanings ... Relative to the History of ... Exeter_, 150-152. [45] James Raine, editor of _York Depositions_, writes that he has found no instance of the conviction of a witch. Preface, xxx. _The Criminal Chronology of York Castle, with a Register of Criminals capitally Convicted and Executed_ (York, 1867), contains not a single execution for witchcraft. [46] Inderwick, _Interregnum_, 188-189. [47] _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1650, 159. [48] There are several secondary accounts of this affair. See F. Legge in _Scottish Review_, XVIII, 267. But a most important primary source is a letter from Clarke to Speaker Lenthall, published by the Scottish History Society in its volume on _Scotland and the Commonwealth_ (Edinburgh, 1895), 367-369. See also a tract in Brit. Mus. Thomason collection, _Two Terrible Sea Fights_ (London, 1652). See, too, the words of Thomas Ady, _A Candle in the Dark_, 105. [49] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1658-1659_, 169. [50] When the council of state, however, in 1652 had issued an act of general pardon, witchcraft had been specifically reserved, along with murder, treason, piracy, etc. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1651-1652_, 106. [51] Inderwick, _Interregnum_, 231. CHAPTER X. THE LITERATURE OF WITCHCRAFT FROM 1603 TO 1660. No small part of our story has been devoted to the writings of Scot, Gifford, Harsnett, and King James. It is impossible to understand the significance of the prosecutions without some acquaintance with the course of opinion on the subject. In this chapter we shall go back as far as the opening of the reign of James and follow up to the end of the Commonwealth the special discussions of witchcraft, as well as some of the more interesting incidental references. It will be recalled that James's _Dæmonologie_ had come out several years before its author ascended the English throne. With the coming of the Scottish king to Westminster the work was republished at London. But, while James by virtue of his position was easily first among those who were writing on the subject, he by no means occupied the stage alone. Not less than four other men gained a hearing within the reign and for that reason deserve consideration. They were Perkins, Cotta, Roberts, and Cooper. William Perkins's _Discourse of the Damned Art of Witchcraft_ came first in order, indeed it was written during the last years of Elizabeth's reign; but it was not published until 1608, six years after the author's death.[1] William Perkins was a fellow of Christ's College at Cambridge and an eminent preacher in that university. He holds a high place among Puritan divines. His sermons may still be found in the libraries of older clergymen and citations from them are abundant in commentaries. It was in the course of one of his university sermons that he took up the matter of witchcraft. In what year this sermon was preached cannot definitely be said. That he seems to have read Scot,[2] that however he does not mention King James's book,[3] are data which lead us to guess that he may have uttered the discourse between 1584 and 1597. His point of view was strictly theological and his convictions grounded--as might be expected--upon scriptural texts. Yet it seems not unfair to suppose that he was an exponent of opinion at Cambridge, where we have already seen evidences of strong faith in the reality of witchcraft. It seems no less likely that a perusal of Reginald Scot's _Discoverie_ prompted the sermon. Witches nowadays, he admitted, have their patrons. His argument for the existence of witches was so thoroughly biblical that we need not go over it. He did not, however, hold to all current conceptions of them. The power of the evil one to transform human beings into other shapes he utterly repudiated. The scratching of witches[4] and the testing of them by water he thought of no value.[5] In this respect it will be seen that he was in advance of his royal contemporary. About the bodily marks, the significance of which James so emphasized, Perkins seems to have been less decided. He believed in the death penalty,[6] but he warned juries to be very careful as to evidence.[7] Evidence based upon the accusations of "good witches," upon the statements of the dying, or upon the charges of those who had suffered ill after threats, he thought ought to be used with great caution. It is evident that Perkins--though he doubtless would not have admitted it himself--was affected by the reading of Scot. Yet it is disappointing to find him condoning the use of torture[8] in extreme instances.[9] A Cambridge man who wrote about a score of years after Perkins put forth opinions a good deal farther advanced. John Cotta was a "Doctor in Physicke" at Northampton who had taken his B. A. at Cambridge in 1595, his M. A. the following year, and his M. D. in 1603. Nine years after leaving Cambridge he had published _A Short Discoverie of the Unobserved Dangers_, in which he had devoted a very thoughtful chapter to the relation between witchcraft and sickness. In 1616 he elaborated his notions in _The Triall of Witchcraft_,[10] published at London. Like Perkins he disapproved of the trial by water.[11] He discredited, too, the evidence of marks, but believed in contracts with the Devil, and cited as illustrious instances the cases of Merlin and "that infamous woman," Joan of Arc.[12] But his point of view was of course mainly that of a medical man. A large number of accusations of witchcraft were due to the want of medical examination. Many so-called possessions could be perfectly diagnosed by a physician. He referred to a case where the supposed witches had been executed and their victim had nevertheless fallen ill again.[13] Probably this was the case of Mistress Belcher, on whose account two women had been hanged at Northampton.[14] Yet Cotta believed that there were real witches and arraigned Scot for failing to distinguish the impostors from the true.[15] It was indeed, he admitted, very hard to discover, except by confession; and even confession, as he had pointed out in his first work, might be a "meane, poore and uncertain proofe," because of the Devil's power to induce false confession.[16] Here the theologian--it was hard for a seventeenth-century writer not to be a theologian--was cropping out. But the scientific spirit came to the front again when he made the point that imagination was too apt to color observations made upon bewitched and witch.[17] The suggestion that coincidence explained many of the alleged fulfillments of witch predictions[18] was equally in advance of his times. How, then, were real cases of bewitchment to be recognized? The best assurance on such matters, Cotta answered, came "whensoever ... the Physicion shall truely discover a manifest transcending power."[19] In other words, the Northampton physician believed that his own profession could best determine these vexed matters. One who has seen the sorry part played by the physicians up to this time can hardly believe that their judgment on this point was saner than that of men in other professions. It may even be questioned if they were more to be depended upon than the so superstitious clergy. In the same year as Cotta's second book, Alexander Roberts, "minister of God's word at King's Lynn" in Norfolk, brought out _A Treatise of Witchcraft_ as a sort of introduction to his account of the trial of Mary Smith of that town and as a justification of her punishment. The work is merely a restatement of the conventional theology of that time as applied to witches, exactly such a presentation of it as was to be expected from an up-country parson who had read Reginald Scot, and could wield the Scripture against him.[20] The following year saw the publication of a work equally theological, _The Mystery of Witchcraft_, by the Reverend Thomas Cooper, who felt that his part in discovering "the practise of Anti-Christ in that hellish Plot of the Gunpowder-treason" enabled him to bring to light other operations of the Devil. He had indeed some experience in this work,[21] as well as some acquaintance with the writers on the subject. But he adds nothing to the discussion unless it be the coupling of the disbelief in witchcraft with the "Atheisme and Irreligion that overflows the land." Five years later the book was brought out again under another title, _Sathan transformed into an Angell of Light, ... [ex]emplified specially in the Doctrine of Witchcraft_. In the account of the trials for witchcraft in the reign of James I the divorce case of the Countess of Essex was purposely omitted, because in it the question of witchcraft was after all a subordinate matter. In the history of opinion, however, the views about witchcraft expressed by the court that passed upon the divorce can by no means be ignored. It is not worth while to rehearse the malodorous details of that singular affair. The petitioner for divorce made the claim that her husband was unable to consummate the marriage with her and left it to be inferred that he was bewitched. It will be remembered that King James, anxious to further the plans of his favorite, Carr, was too willing to have the marriage annulled and brought great pressure to bear upon the members of the court. Archbishop Abbot from the beginning of the trial showed himself unfavorable to the petition of the countess, and James deemed it necessary to resolve his doubts on the general grounds of the divorce.[22] On the matter of witchcraft in particular the king wrote: "for as sure as God is, there be Devils, and some Devils must have some power, and their power is in this world.... That the Devil's power is not so universal against us, that I freely confess; but that it is utterly restrained _quoad nos_, how was then a minister of Geneva bewitched to death, and were the witches daily punished by our law. If they can harm none but the papists, we are too charitable for avenging of them only." This was James's opinion in 1613, and it is worthy of note that he was much less certain of his ground and much more on the defensive about witchcraft than the author of the _Dæmonologie_ had been. It can hardly be doubted that he had already been affected by the more liberal views of the ecclesiastics who surrounded him. Archbishop Bancroft, who had waged through his chaplain the war on the exorcists, was not long dead. That chaplain was now Bishop of Chichester and soon to become Archbishop of York. It would be strange if James had not been affected to some degree by their opinions. Moreover, by this time he had begun his career as a discoverer of impostors. The change in the king's position must, however, not be overrated. He maintained his belief in witches and seemed somewhat apprehensive lest others should doubt it. Archbishop Abbot, whom he was trying to win over to the divorce, would not have denied James's theories, but he was exceedingly cautious in his own use of the term _maleficium_. Abbot was wholly familiar with the history of the Anglican attitude towards exorcism. There can be little doubt that he was in sympathy with the policy of his predecessor. It is therefore interesting to read his carefully worded statement as to the alleged bewitchment of the Earl of Essex. In his speech defending his refusal and that of three colleagues to assent to the divorce, he wrote: "One of my lords (my lord of Winchester) hath avowed it, that he dislikes that _maleficium_; that he hath read Del Rio, the Jesuit, writing upon that argument, and doth hold him an idle and fabulous fellow.... Another of my lords (my lord of Ely) hath assented thereunto, and _maleficium_ must be gone. Now I for my part will not absolutely deny that witches by God's permission may have a power over men, to hurt all, or part in them, as by God they shall be limited; but how shall it appear that this is such a thing in the person of a man." This was not, of course, an expression of disbelief in the reality or culpability of witchcraft. It was an expression of great reluctance to lay much stress upon charges of witchcraft--an expression upon the part of the highest ecclesiastical authority in England. In the reign of Charles I prior to the Civil Wars we have to analyze but a single contribution to the literature of our subject, that made by Richard Bernard. Bernard had preached in Nottinghamshire and had gone from there to Batcombe in Somerset. While yet in Nottinghamshire, in the early years of James's reign, he had seen something of the exorcizers.[23] Later he had had to do with the Taunton cases of 1626; indeed, he seems to have had a prominent part in this affair.[24] Presumably he had displayed some anxiety lest the witches should not receive fair treatment, for in his _Guide to Grand-Jurymen ... in cases of Witchcraft_, published in 1627, he explained the book as a "plaine countrey Minister's testimony." Owing to his "upright meaning" in his "painstaking" with one of the witches, a rumor had spread that he favored witches or "were of Master Scots erroneous opinion that Witches were silly Melancholikes."[25] He had undertaken in consequence to familiarize himself with the whole subject and had read nearly all the discussions in English, as well as all the accounts of trials published up to that time. His work he dedicated to the two judges at Taunton, Sir John Walter and Sir John Denham, and to the archdeacon of Wells and the chancellor of the Bishop of Bath and Wells. The book was, indeed, a truly remarkable patchwork. All shades of opinion from that of the earnestly disbelieving Scot to that of the earnestly believing Roberts were embodied. Nevertheless Bernard had a wholesome distrust of possessions and followed Cotta in thinking that catalepsy and other related diseases accounted for many of them.[26] He thought, too, that the Devil very often acted as his own agent without any intermediary.[27] Like Cotta, he was skeptical as to the water ordeal;[28] but, strange to say, he accepted the use of a magical glass to discover "the suspected."[29] He was inclined to believe that the "apparition of the party suspected, whom the afflicted in their fits seem to see," was a ground for suspicion. The main aim of his discourse was, indeed, to warn judges and jurors to be very careful by their questions and methods of inquiring to separate the innocent from the guilty.[30] In this contention, indeed in his whole attitude, he was very nearly the mouthpiece of an age which, while clinging to a belief, was becoming increasingly cautious of carrying that belief too far into judicial trial and punishment.[31] It is a jump of seventeen years from Bernard of Batcombe to John Gaule. It cannot be said that Gaule marks a distinct step in the progress of opinion beyond Bernard. His general position was much the same as that of his predecessor. His warnings were perhaps more earnest, his skepticism a little more apparent. In an earlier chapter we have observed the bold way in which the indignant clergyman of Huntingdonshire took up Hopkins's challenge in 1646. It was the Hopkins crusade that called forth his treatise.[32] His little book was in large part a plea for more caution in the use of evidence. Suspicion was too lightly entertained against "every poore and peevish olde Creature." Whenever there was an extraordinary accident, whenever there was a disease that could not be explained, it was imputed to witchcraft. Such "Tokens of Tryall" he deemed "altogether unwarrantable, as proceeding from ignorance, humor, superstition." There were other more reliable indications by which witches could sometimes be detected, but those indications were to be used with exceeding caution. Neither the evidence of the fact--that is, of a league with the Devil--without confession nor "confession without fact" was to be accounted as certain proof. On the matter of confession Gaule was extraordinarily skeptical for his time. It was to be considered whether the party confessing were not diabolically deluded, whether the confession were not forced, or whether it were not the result of melancholy. Gaule went even a little further. Not only was he inclined to suspect confession, but he had serious doubts about a great part of witch lore. There were stories of metamorphoses, there were narratives of "tedious journeys upon broomes," and a hundred other tales from old authors, which the wise Christian would, he believed, leave with the writers. To believe nothing of them, however, would be to belittle the Divine attributes. As a matter of fact there was a very considerable part of the witch theory that Gaule accepted. His creed came to this: it was unsafe to pronounce such and such to be witches. While not one in ten was guilty, the tenth was still to be accounted for.[33] The physician Cotta would have turned the matter over to the physicians; the clergyman Gaule believed that it belonged to the province of the "Magistracy and Ministery."[34] During the period of the Commonwealth one would have supposed that intellectual men would be entirely preoccupied with more weighty matters than the guilt of witches. But the many executions that followed in the wake of Hopkins and Stearne had invested the subject with a new interest and brought new warriors into the fray. Half a dozen writers took up the controversy. On the conservative side three names deserve mention, two of them not unknown in other connections, Henry More and Meric Casaubon. For the defence of the accused witches appeared two men hardly so well known in their time, Robert Filmer and Thomas Ady. More was a young Cambridge scholar and divine who was to take rank among the English philosophers of the seventeenth century. Grounded in Plato and impregnated with Descartes, he became a little later thoroughly infected with the Cabalistic philosophy that had entered Europe from the East. It was the point of view that he acquired in the study of this mystic Oriental system that gave the peculiar turn to his witchcraft notions, a turn which through his own writings and those of Glanvill found wide acceptance. It was in 1653 that More issued _An Antidote to Atheisme_. The phenomena of witchcraft he reckoned as part of the evidence for the reality of the spirit world and used them to support religion, quite in the same manner as Sir Oliver Lodge or Professor Hyslop would today use psychical research to establish immortality. More had made investigations for himself, probably at Maidstone. In his own town of Cambridge there was a story--doubtless a college joke, but he referred to it in all seriousness--of "Old Strangridge," who "was carried over Shelford Steeple upon a black Hogge and tore his breeches upon the weather-cock."[35] He believed that he had absolute proof of the "nocturnal conventicles" of witches.[36] He had, however, none of that instinct for scientific observation that had distinguished Scot, and his researches did not prevent his being easily duped. His observations are not by any means so entertaining as are his theories. His effort to account for the instantaneous transportation of witches is one of the bright spots in the prosy reasonings of the demonologists. More was a thoroughgoing dualist. Mind and matter were the two separate entities. Now, the problem that arose at once was this: How can the souls of witches leave their bodies? "I conceive," he says, "the Divell gets into their body and by his subtile substance more operative and searching than any fire or putrifying liquor, melts the yielding Campages of the body to such a consistency ... and makes it plyable to his imagination: and then it is as easy for him to work it into what shape he pleaseth."[37] If he could do that, much more could he enable men to leave their bodies. Then arose the problem: How does this process differ from death? The writer was puzzled apparently at his own question, but reasoned that death was the result of the unfitness of the body to contain the soul.[38] But no such condition existed when the Devil was operating; and no doubt the body could be anointed in such fashion that the soul could leave and return. Meric Casaubon, son of the eminent classical scholar and himself a well known student, was skeptical as to the stories told about the aerial journeys of witches which More had been at such pains to explain. It was a matter, he wrote in his _Treatise concerning Enthusiasme_,[39] of much dispute among learned men. The confessions made were hard to account for, but he would feel it very wrong to condemn the accused upon that evidence. We shall meet with Casaubon again.[40] Nathaniel Homes, who wrote from his pastoral study at Mary Stayning's in London, and dedicated his work[41] to Francis Rous, member of Parliament, was no halfway man. He was a thoroughgoing disciple of Perkins. His utmost admission--the time had come when one had to make some concessions--was that evil spirits performed many of their wonders by tricks of juggling.[42] But he swallowed without effort all the nonsense about covenants, and was inclined to see in the activities of the Devil a presage of the last days.[43] The reader can readily see that More, Casaubon, and Homes were all on the defensive. They were compelled to offer explanations of the mysteries of witchcraft, they were ready enough to make admissions; but they were nevertheless sticking closely to the main doctrines. It is a pleasure to turn to the writings of two men of somewhat bolder stamp, Robert Filmer and Thomas Ady. Sir Robert Filmer was a Kentish knight of strong royalist views who had written against the limitations of monarchy and was not afraid to cross swords with Milton and Hobbes on the origin of government. In 1652 he had attended the Maidstone trials, where, it will be remembered, six women had been convicted. As Scot had been stirred by the St. Oses trials, so Filmer was wrought up by what he had seen at Maidstone,[44] and in the following year he published his _Advertisement to the Jurymen of England_. He set out to overturn the treatise of Perkins. As a consequence he dealt with Scripture and the interpretation of the well known passages in the Old Testament. The Hebrew witch, Filmer declared, was guilty of nothing more than "lying prophecies." The Witch of Endor probably used "hollow speaking." In this suggestion Filmer was following his famous Kentish predecessor.[45] But Filmer's main interest, like Bernard's and Gaule's before him, was to warn those who had to try cases to be exceedingly careful. He felt that a great part of the evidence used was worth little or nothing. Thomas Ady's _Candle in the Dark_ was published three years later.[48] Even more than Filmer, Ady was a disciple of Scot. But he was, indeed, a student of all English writers on the subject and set about to answer them one by one. King James, whose book he persistently refused to believe the king's own handiwork, Cooper, who was a "bloudy persecutor," Gifford, who "had more of the spirit of truth in him than many," Perkins, the arch-enemy, Gaule, whose "intentions were godly," but who was too far "swayed by the common tradition of men,"[47] all of them were one after another disposed of. Ady stood eminently for good sense. It was from that point of view that he ridiculed the water ordeal and the evidence of marks,[48] and that he attacked the cause and effect relation between threats and illness. "They that make this Objection must dwell very remote from Neighbours."[49] Yet not even Ady was a downright disbeliever. He defended Scot from the report "that he held an opinion that Witches are not, for it was neither his Tenent nor is it mine." Alas, Ady does not enlighten us as to just what was his opinion. Certainly his witches were creatures without power.[50] What, then, were they? Were they harmless beings with malevolent minds? Mr. Ady does not answer. A hundred years of witchcraft history had not brought to light a man who was willing to deny in a printed work the existence of witches. Doubtless such denial might often have been heard in the closet, but it was never proclaimed on the housetop. Scot had not been so bold--though one imagines that if he had been quietly questioned in a corner he might have denied the thing _in toto_--and those who had followed in his steps never ventured beyond him. The controversy, indeed, was waged in most of its aspects along the lines laid down by the first aggressor. Gifford, Cotta, and Ady had brought in a few new arguments to be used in attacking superstition, but in general the assailants looked to Scot. On the other side, only Perkins and More had contributed anything worth while to the defence that had been built up. Yet, the reader will notice that there had been progress. The centre of struggle had shifted to a point within the outer walls. The water ordeal and the evidence of marks were given up by most, if not all. The struggle now was over the transportation of witches through the air and the battle was going badly for the defenders. We turn now to the incidental indications of the shifting of opinion. In one sense this sort of evidence means more than the formal literature. Yet its fragmentary character at best precludes putting any great stress upon it. If one were to include all the references to witchcraft in the drama of the period, this discussion might widen out into a long chapter. Over the passages in the playwrights we must pass with haste; but certain points must be noted. Shakespeare, in _Macbeth_, which scholars have usually placed at about 1606, used a great body of witch lore. He used it, too, with apparent good faith, though to conclude therefrom that he believed in it himself would be a most dangerous step.[51] Thomas Middleton, whose _Witch_ probably was written somewhat later, and who is thought to have drawn on Shakespeare for some of his witch material, gives absolutely no indication in that play that he did not credit those tales of witch performances of which he availed himself. The same may be said of Dekker and of those who collaborated with him in writing _The Witch of Edmonton_.[52] We may go further and say that in none of these three plays is there any hint that there were disbelievers. But when we come to Ben Jonson we have a different story. His various plays we cannot here take up. Suffice it to say, on the authority of careful commentators, that he openly or covertly ridiculed all the supposedly supernatural phenomena of his time.[53] Perhaps a search through the obscurer dramatists of the period might reveal other evidences of skepticism. Such a search we cannot make. It must, however, be pointed out that Thomas Heywood, in _The late Lancashire Witches_[54] a play which is described at some length in an earlier chapter, makes a character say:[55] "It seemes then you are of opinion that there are witches. For mine own part I can hardly be induc'd to think there is any such kinde of people."[56] The speech is the more notable because Heywood's own belief in witchcraft, as has been observed in another connection, seems beyond doubt. The interest in witchcraft among literary men was not confined to the dramatists. Three prose writers eminent in their time dealt with the question. Burton, in his _Anatomy of Melancholy_[57] admits that "many deny witches at all, or, if there be any, they can do no harm." But he says that on the other side are grouped most "Lawyers, Divines, Physitians, Philosophers." James Howell, famous letter-writer of the mid-century, had a similar reverence for authority: "I say ... that he who denies there are such busy Spirits and such poor passive Creatures upon whom they work, which commonly are call'd Witches ... shews that he himself hath a Spirit of Contradiction in him."[58] There are, he says, laws against witches, laws by Parliament and laws in the Holy Codex. Francis Osborne, a literary man whose reputation hardly survived his century, but an essayist of great fame in his own time,[59] was a man who made his fortune by sailing against rather than with the wind. It was conventional to believe in witches and Osborne would not for any consideration be conventional. He assumed the skeptical attitude,[60] and perhaps was as influential as any one man in making that attitude fashionable. From these lesser lights of the literary world we may pass to notice the attitude assumed by three men of influence in their own day, whose reputations have hardly been dimmed by time, Bacon, Selden, and Hobbes. Not that their views would be representative of their times, for each of the three men thought in his own way, and all three were in many respects in advance of their day. At some time in the reign of James I Francis Bacon wrote his _Sylva Sylvarum_ and rather incidentally touched upon witchcraft. He warned judges to be wary about believing the confessions of witches and the evidence against them. "For the witches themselves are imaginative and believe oft-times they do that which they do not; and people are credulous in that point, and ready to impute accidents and natural operations to witchcraft. It is worthy the observing, that ... the great wonders which they tell, of carrying in the air, transporting themselves into other bodies, &c., are still reported to be wrought, not by incantations, or ceremonies, but by ointments, and anointing themselves all over. This may justly move a man to think that these fables are the effects of imagination."[61] Surely all this has a skeptical sound. Yet largely on the strength of another passage, which has been carelessly read, the great Bacon has been tearfully numbered among the blindest leaders of the blind.[62] A careful comparison of his various allusions to witchcraft will convince one that, while he assumed a belief in the practice,[63] partly perhaps in deference to James's views,[64] he inclined to explain many reported phenomena from the effects of the imagination[65] and from the operation of "natural causes" as yet unknown.[66] Bacon, though a lawyer and man of affairs, had the point of view of a philosopher. With John Selden we get more directly the standpoint of a legal man. In his _Table Talk_[67] that eminent jurist wrote a paragraph on witches. "The Law against Witches," he declared, "does not prove there be any; but it punishes the Malice of those people that use such means to take away mens Lives. If one should profess that by turning his Hat thrice and crying Buz, he could take away a man's life (though in truth he could do no such thing) yet this were a just Law made by the State, that whosoever should turn his Hat thrice and cry Buz, with an intention to take away a man's life, shall be put to death."[68] As to the merits of this legal quip the less said the better; but it is exceedingly hard to see in the passage anything but downright skepticism as to the witch's power.[69] It is not without interest that Selden's point of view was exactly that of the philosopher Hobbes. There is no man of the seventeenth century, unless it be Oliver Cromwell or John Milton, whose opinion on this subject we would rather know than that of Hobbes. In 1651 Hobbes had issued his great _Leviathan_. It is unnecessary here to insist upon the widespread influence of that work. Let it be said, however, that Hobbes was not only to set in motion new philosophies, but that he had been tutor to Prince Charles[70] and was to become a figure in the reign of that prince.[71] Hobbes's work was directed against superstition in many forms, but we need only notice his statement about witchcraft, a statement that did not by any means escape his contemporaries. "As for Witches," he wrote, "I think not that their witchcraft is any reall power; but yet that they are justly punished for the false beliefe they have that they can do such mischief, joined with their purpose to do it if they can."[72] Perhaps the great philosopher had in mind those pretenders to diabolic arts who had suffered punishment, and was so defending the community that had rid itself of a preying class. In any case, while he defended the law, he put himself among the disbelievers in witchcraft. From these opinions of the great we may turn to mark the more trivial indications of the shifting of opinion to be found in the pamphlet literature. It goes without saying that the pamphlet-writers believed in that whereof they spoke. It is not in their outspoken faith that we are interested, but rather in their mention of those opponents at whose numbers they marvelled, and whose incredulity they undertook to shake. Nowhere better than in the prefaces of the pamphleteers can evidence be found of the growing skepticism. The narrator of the Northampton cases in 1612 avowed it his purpose in writing to convince the "many that remaine yet in doubt whether there be any Witches or no."[73] That ardent busybody, Mr. Potts, who reported the Lancaster cases of 1612, very incidentally lets us know that the kinsfolk and friends of Jennet Preston, who, it will be remembered, suffered at York, declared the whole prosecution to be an act of malice.[74] The Yorkshire poet and gentleman, Edward Fairfax, who made such an ado about the sickness of his two daughters in 1622 and would have sent six creatures to the gallows for it, was very frank in describing the opposition he met. The accused women found supporters among the "best able and most understanding."[75] There were, he thought, three kinds of people who were doubters in these matters: those who attributed too much to natural causes and who were content to call clear cases of bewitchment convulsions, those who when witchcraft was broached talked about fairies and "walking ghosts," and lastly those who believed there were no witches. "Of this opinion I hear and see there be many, some of them men of worth, religious and honest."[76] The pamphlet-writers of James's reign had adjusted themselves to meet opposition. Those of the Civil Wars and the Commonwealth were prepared to meet ridicule.[77] "There are some," says the narrator of a Yorkshire story, "who are of opinion that there are no Divells nor any witches.... Men in this Age are grown so wicked, that they are apt to believe there are no greater Divells than themselves."[78] Another writer, to bolster up his story before a skeptical public, declares that he is "very chary and hard enough to believe passages of this nature."[79] We have said that the narrators of witch stories fortified themselves against ridicule. That ridicule obviously must have found frequent expression in conversation, but sometimes it even crept into the newspapers and tracts of the day. The Civil Wars had developed a regular London press. We have already met with expressions of serious opinion from it.[80] But not all were of that sort. In 1654 the _Mercurius Democritus_, the _Punch_ of its time, took occasion to make fun of the stories of the supernatural then in circulation. There was, it declared, a strange story of a trance and apparition, a ghost was said to be abroad, a woman had hanged herself in a tobacco pipe. With very broad humor the journal took off the strange reports of the time and concluded with the warning that in "these distempered times" it was not safe for an "idle-pated woman" to look up at the skies.[81] The same mocking incredulity had manifested itself in 1648 in a little brochure entitled, _The Devil seen at St. Albans, Being a true Relation how the Devill was seen there in a Cellar, in the likeness of a Ram; and how a Butcher came and cut his throat, and sold some of it, and dressed the rest for himselfe, inviting many to supper, who did eat of it_.[82] The story was a clever parody of the demon tracts that had come out so frequently in the exciting times of the wars. The writer made his point clear when he declared that his story was of equal value with anything that "Britannicus" ever wrote.[83] The importance of these indications may be overestimated. But they do mean that there were those bold enough to make fun. A decade or two later ridicule became a two-edged knife, cutting superstition right and left. But even under the terribly serious Puritans skepticism began to avail itself of that weapon, a weapon of which it could hardly be disarmed. In following the history of opinion we must needs mention again some of the incidents of certain cases dealt with in earlier chapters, incidents that indicate the growing force of doubt. The reader has hardly forgotten the outcome of the Lancashire cases in 1633. There Bishop Bridgeman and the king, if they did not discredit witchcraft, discredited its manifestation in the particular instance.[84] As for William Harvey, he had probably given up his faith in the whole business after the little incident at Newmarket.[85] When we come to the time of the Civil Wars we cannot forget that Stearne and Hopkins met opposition, not alone from the Huntingdon minister, but from a large party in Norfolk, who finally forced the witchfinder to defend himself in court. Nor can we forget the witch-pricker of Berwick who was sent a-flying back to his native northern soil, nor the persistent Mrs. Muschamp who tramped over Northumberland seeking a warrant and finding none. The course of opinion is a circuitous one. We have followed its windings in and out through more than half a century. We have listened as respectfully as possible to the vagaries of country parsons and university preachers, we have heard from scholars, from gentlemen, from jurists and men of affairs, from physicians and philosophers. It matters little now what they thought or said, but it did matter then. We have seen how easy a thing it was to fall into the error that a middle course was nearest truth. Broad was the way and many there were that walked therein. Yet even those who travelled that highway found their direction shifting. For there was progress in opinion. With every decade the travellers, as well those who strayed aside as those who followed the crowd, were getting a little nearer to truth. [1] "Printed by Cantrel Legge, Printer to the Universitie of Cambridge" (1608, 1610). [2] See _Discourse of the Damned Art of Witchcraft_, ch. VII, sect. I. [3] His literary executor, Thomas Pickering, late of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and now "Minister of Finchingfield in Essex," who prepared the _Discourse_ for the press (both in its separate form and as a part of Perkins's collected works), and who dedicates it to Sir Edward Coke, is, however, equally silent as to James, though in his preface he mentions Scot by name. [4] _Ibid._, ch. IV, sect. I. See also ch. II. [5] _Ibid._, ch. VII, sect. II. [6] _Ibid._, ch. VI. [7] _Ibid._, ch. VII, sect. II. [8] _Ibid._, ch. VII, sect. II. [9] James Mason, "Master of Artes," whose _Anatomie of Sorcerie_ ("printed at London by John Legatte, Printer to the Universitie of Cambridge," 1612), puts him next to Perkins in chronological order, needs only mention in passing. He takes the reality of sorcery for granted, and devotes himself to argument against its use. [10] _... Shewing the True and Right Methode of the Discovery._ Cotta was familiar with the more important trials of his time. He knew of the Warboys, Lancaster, and York trials and he probably had come into close contact with the Northampton cases. He had read, too, several of the books on the subject, such as Scot, Wier, and Perkins. His omission of King James's work is therefore not only curious but significant. A second edition of his book was published in 1625. [11] See _Triall of Witchcraft_, ch. XIV. [12] See _ibid._, p. 48. [13] _Ibid._, 66-67. [14] See _ibid._, ch. VI. Cotta speaks of the case as six years earlier. [15] _Ibid._, 62, 66. [16] _A Short Discoverie_, 70. [17] _Triall of Witchcraft_, 83-84. [18] _A Short Discoverie_, 51-53. [19] _Triall of Witchcraft_, 70. [20] Roberts's explanation of the proneness of women to witchcraft deserves mention in passing. Women are more credulous, more curious, "their complection is softer," they have "greater facility to fall," greater desire for revenge, and "are of a slippery tongue." _Treatise of Witchcraft_, 42-43. [21] "In Cheshire and Coventry," he tells us. "Hath not Coventrie," he asks (p. 16), "beene usually haunted by these hellish Sorcerers, where it was confessed by one of them, that no lesse than three-score were of that confedracie?... And was I not there enjoyned by a necessity to the discoverie of this Brood?" [22] For the whole case see Howell, _State Trials_, II. [23] See article on Bernard in _Dict. Nat. Biog._ [24] See below, appendix C, list of witch cases, under 1626. [25] See _Guide to Grand-Jurymen_, Dedication. [26] _Ibid._, 11-12. [27] _Ibid._, 53. [28] _Ibid._, 214. [29] This he did on the authority of a repentant Mr. Edmonds, of Cambridge, who had once been questioned by the University authorities for witchcraft. _Ibid._, 136-138. [30] _Guide to Grand-Jurymen_, 22-28. [31] He was "for the law, but agin' its enforcement." [32] _Select Cases of Conscience Touching Witches and Witchcraft_ (London, 1646). [33] _Ibid._, 92. [34] _Ibid._, 94, 97. That Gaule was a Puritan, as has been asserted, appears from nothing in his book. If he dedicated his _Select Cases_ to his townsman Colonel Walton, a brother-in-law of Cromwell, and his _Mag-astro-mancer_ (a later diatribe against current superstitions) to Oliver himself, there is nothing in his prefatory letters to show him of their party. Nor does the tone of his writings suggest a Calvinist. That in 1649 we find Gaule chosen to preach before the assizes of Huntingdon points perhaps only to his popularity as a leader of the reaction against the work of Hopkins. [35] _Antidote to Atheisme_, 129. [36] _Ibid._, 127-130. [37] _Ibid._, ch. VIII, 134. [38] _Ibid._, 135. [39] See p. 118. This _Treatise_ was first published in 1655. Four years later, in 1659, he published _A True and faithful Relation of what passed ... between Dr. John Dee, ... and some spirits_. In the preface to this he announced his intention of writing the work which he later published as _Of Credulity and Incredulity_. [40] In passing we must mention Richard Farnworth, who in 1655 issued a pamphlet called _Witchcraft Cast out from the Religious Seed and Israel of God_. Farnworth was a Quaker, and wrote merely to warn his brethren against magic and sorcery. He never questioned for a moment the facts of witchcraft and sorcery, nor the Devil's share in them. As for the witches, they were doomed everlastingly to the lake of fire. [41] _Dæmonologie and Theologie. The first, the Malady ..., The Second, The Remedy_ (London, 1650). [42] _Ibid._, 42. [43] _Ibid._, 16. [44] See the Introduction to the _Advertisement_. [45] Filmer noted further that the Septuagint translates the Hebrew word for witch as "an Apothecary, a Druggister, one that compounds poysons." [46] London, 1656. [47] In Ady's second edition, _A Perfect Discovery of Witches_ (1661), 134, Gaule's book having meanwhile come into his hands, he speaks of Gaule as "much inclining to the Truth" and yet swayed by traditions and the authority of the learned. He adds, "Mr. Gaule, if this work of mine shall come to your hand, as yours hath come to mine, be not angry with me for writing God's Truth." [48] "... few men or women being tied hand and feet together can sink quite away till they be drowned" (_Candle in the Dark_, 100); "... very few people in the World are without privie Marks" (_Ibid._, 127). [49] _Ibid._, 129. [50] In giving "The Reason of the Book" he wrote, "The Grand Errour of these latter Ages is ascribing power to Witches." [51] See a recent discussion of a nearly related topic by Professor Elmer Stoll in the _Publications_ of the Modern Language Association, XXII, 201-233. Of the attitude of the English dramatists before Shakespeare something may be learned from Mr. L. W. Cushman's _The Devil and the Vice in the English Dramatic Literature before Shakespeare_ (Halle, 1900). [52] About 1622 or soon after. [53] See, for instance, Mr. W. S. Johnson's introduction to his edition of _The Devil is an Ass_ (New York, 1905). [54] 1634. This play was written, of course, in cooperation with Brome; see above, pp. 158-160. For other expressions of Heywood's opinions on witchcraft see his _Hierarchie of the Blessed Angels_, 598, and his [Greek: GYNAIKEION]: _or Nine Books of Various History concerning Women_ (London, 1624), lib. viii, 399, 407, etc. [55] Act I, scene 1. [56] In another part of the same scene: "They that thinke so dreame," _i. e._ they who believe in witchcraft. [57] First published in 1621--I use, however, Shilleto's ed. of London, 1893, which follows that of 1651-1652; see pt. I, sect. II, memb. I, sub-sect. 3. [58] James Howell, _Familiar Letters_, II, 548. [59] His _Advice to a Son_, first published in 1656-1658, went through edition after edition. It is very entertaining. His strongly enforced advice not to marry made a sensation among young Oxford men. [60] _Works of Francis Osborne_ (London, 1673), 551-553. [61] _Works of Bacon_ (ed. Spedding, London, 1857-1858), II, 642-643. [62] "The ointment that witches use is reported to be made of the fat of children digged out of their graves; of the juices of smallage, wolf-bane, and cinque-foil, mingled with the meal of fine wheat; but I suppose that the soporiferous medicines are likest to do it." See _Sylva Sylvarum_, cent. X, 975, in _Works_, ed. Spedding, II, 664. But even this passage shows Bacon a skeptic. His suggestion that the soporiferous medicines are likest to do it means that he thinks the delusions of witches subjective and produced by drugs. For other references to the subject see _Works_, II, 658, 660; VII, 738. [63] _De Argumentis_, bk. II, ch. II, in _Works_, IV, 296; see also _ibid._, III, 490. [64] _Advancement of Learning_, bk. II; _ibid._, III, 490. [65] _Works_, IV, 400-401. [66] _Ibid._, IV, 296. [67] Selden, _Table Talk_ (London, 1689). The book is supposed to have been written during the last twenty years of Selden's life, that is, between 1634 and 1654. [68] Selden, _Table Talk_, _s. v._ "Witches." [69] Nor did Selden believe in possessions. See his essay on Devils in the _Table Talk_. [70] See article on Hobbes in _Dict. Nat. Biog._ [71] See, for example, Bishop Burnet's _History of his Own Time_ (Oxford, 1823), I, 172, 322-323. [72] _Leviathan_ (1651), 7. See also his _Dialogue of the Common Laws of England_, in _Works_ (ed. of London, 1750), 626: "But I desire not to discourse of that subject; for, though without doubt there is some great Wickedness signified by those Crimes, yet have I ever found myself too dull to conceive the nature of them, or how the Devil hath power to do many things which Witches have been accused of." See also his chapter on Dæmonology in the _Leviathan_, in _Works_, 384. [73] He continues, "Some doe maintaine (but how wisely let the wiser judge) that all Witchcraft spoken of either by holy writers, or testified by other writers to have beene among the heathen or in later daies, hath beene and is no more but either meere Cousinage [he had been reading Scot], or Collusion, so that in the opinion of those men, the Devill hath never done, nor can do anything by Witches." _The Witches of Northamptonshire, ..._ A 4. [74] Potts, _The Wonderfull Discoverie ..._, X 4 verso. [75] Fairfax, _A Discourse of Witchcraft_ (Philobiblon Soc.), 12. [76] _Ibid._, 20. [77] One notable instance must be mentioned. "H. F.," the narrator of the Essex affair of 1645 (_A true and exact Relation_) not only recognized the strong position of those who doubted, but was by no means extreme himself. "I doubt not," he wrote, "but these things may seeme as incredible unto some, as they are matter of admiration unto others.... The greatest doubt and question will be, whether it be in the power of the Devil to perform such asportation and locall translation of the bodies of Witches.... And whether these supernaturall works, which are above the power of man to do, and proper only to Spirits, whether they are reall or only imaginary and fained." The writer concludes that the Devil has power to dispose and transport bodies, but, as to changing them into animals, he thinks these are "but jugling transmutations." [78] _The most true and wonderfull Narration of two women bewitched in Yorkshire; ..._ (1658). [79] "Relation of a Memorable Piece of Witchcraft at Welton near Daventry," in Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ (London, 1681), pt. ii, 263-268. [80] See above, pp. 179-180, for an expression about the persecution in 1645. [81] _Mercurius Democritus_, February 8-15, 1654. [82] 1648. This must be distinguished from _The Divels Delusion ..._, 1649, (see above, ch. IX, note 8), which deals with two witches executed at St. Alban's. [83] The truth is that the newspapers, pamphlets, etc., were full of such stories. And they were believed by many intelligent men. He who runs through Whitelocke's _Memorials_ may read that the man was exceeding superstitious. Whether it be the report of the horseman seen in the air or the stories of witches at Berwick, Whitelocke was equally interested. While he was merely recording the reports of others, there is not a sign of skepticism. [84] See above, pp. 152-157. [85] See above, pp. 160-162. CHAPTER XI. WITCHCRAFT UNDER CHARLES II AND JAMES II. No period of English history saw a wider interest in both the theory and the practice of witchcraft than the years that followed the Restoration. Throughout the course of the twenty-eight years that spanned the second rule of the Stuarts, the Devil manifested himself in many forms and with unusual frequency. Especially within the first half of that régime his appearances were so thrilling in character that the enemies of the new king might very well have said that the Evil One, like Charles, had come to his own again. All over the realm the witches were popping up. If the total number of trials and of executions did not foot up to the figures of James I's reign or to those of the Civil War, the alarm was nevertheless more widely distributed than ever before. In no less than twenty counties of England witches were discovered and fetched to court. Up to this time, so far at any rate as the printed records show, the southwestern counties had been but little troubled. Now Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall were the storm centre of the panic. In the north Yorkshire began to win for itself the reputation as a centre of activity that had long been held by Lancashire. Not that the witch was a new criminal in Yorkshire courts. During the Civil Wars and the troubled years that followed the discoverers had been active. But with the reign of Charles II their zeal increased mightily. Yet, if they had never before fetched in so many "suspected parties" to the court of the justice of the peace, they had never before been so often baffled by the outcome. Among the many such cases known to us during this time there is no mention of a conviction.[1] In Kent there was a flickering revival of the old hatred of witches. In the year that Charles gained the throne the city of Canterbury sent some women to the gibbet. Not so in Essex. In that county not a single case during this period has been left on record. In Middlesex, a county which from the days of Elizabeth through to the Restoration had maintained a very even pace--a stray conviction now and then among many acquittals--the reign of Charles II saw nothing more serious than some commitments and releases upon bail. In the Midland counties, where superstition had flourished in the days of James I, there were now occasional tales of possession and vague charges which rarely reached the ears of the assize judges. Northampton, where an incendiary witch was sentenced, constituted the single exception. In East Anglia there was just enough stir to prove that the days of Matthew Hopkins had not been forgotten. It needs no pointing out that a large proportion of the cases were but a repetition of earlier trials. If a difference is discernible, it is in the increased number of accusations that took their start in strange diseases called possessions. Since the close of the sixteenth century and the end of John Darrel's activities, the accounts of possession had fallen off sensibly, but the last third of the seventeenth century saw a distinct revival of this tendency to assign certain forms of disease to the operation of the Devil. We have references to many cases, but only in exceptional instances are the details given. Oliver Heywood, one of the eminent Dissenters of northern England, fasted and prayed with his co-workers over the convulsive and hysterical boys and girls in the West Riding. Nathan Dodgson was left after long fastings in "a very sensible melting frame,"[2] but the troubles returned and led, as we shall see in another connection, to very tragic results. The Puritan clergymen do not seem, however, to have had any highly developed method of exorcism or to have looked upon cases of possession in a light very different from that in which they would have looked upon ordinary illnesses. Among the Baptists of Yorkshire there was a possession that roused wide comment. Mary Hall of Little Gaddesden in Hertfordshire, daughter of a smith, was possessed in the fall of 1663 with two spirits who were said to have come to her riding down the chimney upon a stick. The spirits declared through the girl that Goodwife Harwood had sent them, and when that suspected woman was brought into the girl's presence the spirits cried out, "Oh, Goodwife Harwood, are you come?--that is well; ... we have endeavored to choak her but cannot," and, when Mistress Harwood left, the spirits begged to go with her.[3] In Southwark James Barrow, the son of John Barrow, was long possessed, and neither "doctors, astrologers, nor apothecaries" could help him. He was taken to the Catholics, but to no purpose. Finally he was cast among a "poor dispirited people whom the Lord owned as instruments in his hand to do this great work."[4] By the "poor dispirited people" the Baptists were almost certainly meant.[5] By their assistance he seems to have been cured. So also was Hannah Crump of Warwick, who had been afflicted by witchcraft and put in a London hospital. Through prayer and fasting she was entirely recovered. Mary Hall had been taken to Doctor Woodhouse of Berkhampstead, "a man famous for curing bewitched persons." Woodhouse's name comes up now and again in the records of his time. He was in fact a very typical specimen of the witch doctor. When Mary Hall's case had been submitted to him he had cut off the ends of her nails and "with somewhat he added" hung them in the chimney over night before making a diagnosis.[6] He professed to find stolen goods as well and fell foul of the courts in one instance, probably because the woman who consulted him could not pay the shilling fee.[7] He was arraigned and spent a term in prison. No doubt many of the witch physicians knew the inside of prisons and had returned afterwards to successful practice. Redman, "whom some say is a Conjurer, others say, He is an honest and able phisitian," had been in prison, but nevertheless he had afterwards "abundance of Practice" and was much talked about "in remote parts," all this in spite of the fact that he was "unlearned in the languages."[8] Usually, of course, the witch doctor was a poor woman who was very happy to get a penny fee now and then, but who ran a greater risk of the gallows than her male competitors. Her reputation, which brought her a little money from the sick and from those who had lost valuables, made her at the same time a successful beggar. Those whom she importuned were afraid to refuse her. But she was in constant peril. If she resented ill treatment, if she gave in ill wishes as much as she took, she was sure to hear from it before a stern justice of the peace. It can hardly be doubted that a large proportion, after the Restoration as in every other period, of those finally hanged for witchcraft, had in fact made claims to skill in magic arts. Without question some of them had even traded on the fear they inspired. Not a few of the wretched creatures fetched to York castle to be tried were "inchanters." Very often, indeed, a woman who was nothing more than a midwife, with some little knowledge of medicine perhaps, would easily be classed by the public among the regular witch doctors and so come to have a bad name. Whether she lived up to her name or not--and the temptation to do so would be great--she would from that time be subject to suspicion, and might at length become a prey to the justice of the peace. Mrs. Pepper was no more than a midwife who made also certain simple medical examinations, but when one of her patients was "strangely handled" she was taken to court.[9] Margaret Stothard was probably, so far as we can piece together her story, a woman who had been successful in calming fretful children and had so gained for herself a reputation as a witch. Doubtless she had acquired in time a few of the charmer's tricks that enhanced her reputation and increased her practice. This was all very well until one of her patients happened to die. Then she was carried to Newcastle and would probably have suffered death, had it not been for a wise judge.[10] These are typical cases. The would-be healer of the sick ran a risk, and it was not always alone from failure to cure. If a witch doctor found himself unable to bring relief to a patient, it was easy to suggest that some other witch doctor--and such were usually women--was bewitching the patient. There are many instances, and they are not confined to the particular period with which we are dealing, in which one "good witch" started the run on the other's reputation. Even the regular physician may sometimes have yielded to the temptation to crush competition. Of course, when all the cases are considered, only a very small part of the "good witches" ever fell into the clutches of the law. The law prescribed very definite penalties for their operations, but in most instances no action was taken until after a long accumulation of "suspicious circumstances," and, even if action was taken, the chances, as we have seen, were by this time distinctly in favor of the accused. This is not to say, by any means, that the judges and juries of England had come over to the side of the witch. The period with which we are dealing was marked by a variety of decision which betrays the perplexity of judges and juries. It is true, indeed, that out of from eighty to one hundred cases where accusations are on record less than twenty witches were hanged. This does not mean that six times out of every seven the courts were ruling against the fact of witchcraft. In the case of the six released there was no very large body of evidence against them to be considered, or perhaps no strong popular current to be stemmed. In general, it may be said that the courts were still backing up the law of James I. To show this, it is only necessary to run over some of the leading trials of the period. We shall briefly take up four trials conducted respectively by Justice Archer, Chief Baron Hale, Justice Rainsford, and Justice Raymond. Julian Cox, who was but one of the "pestilent brood" of witches ferreted out in Somerset by the aggressive justice, Robert Hunt, was tried in 1663 at Taunton before Justice Archer.[11] The charges against her indeed excited such interest all over England, and elicited, upon the part of disbelievers, so much derision, that it will be worth our while to go over the principal points of evidence. The chief witness against her was a huntsman who told a strange tale. He had started a hare and chased it behind a bush. But when he came to the bush he had found Julian Cox there, stooped over and quite out of breath. Another witness had a strange story to tell about her. She had invited him to come up on her porch and take a pipe of tobacco with her. While he was with her, smoking, he saw a toad between his legs. On going home he had taken out a pipe and smoked again and had again seen what looked to be the same toad between his legs. "He took the Toad out to kill it, and to his thinking cut it in several pieces, but returning to his Pipe the Toad still appeared.... At length the Toad cryed, and vanish'd." A third witness had seen the accused fly in at her window "in her full proportion." This tissue of evidence was perhaps the absurdest ever used against even a witch, but the jury brought in a verdict of guilty. It is not unpleasant to know that Justice Archer met with a good deal of criticism for his part in the affair. In the following year occurred the trials at Bury St. Edmunds, which derive their interest and importance largely from the position of the presiding judge, Sir Matthew Hale, who was at this time chief baron of the exchequer, and was later to be chief justice of the king's bench. He was allowed, according to the admission of one none too friendly to him, "on all hands to be the most profound lawyer of his time."[12] Hale had been a Puritan from his youth, though not of the rigid or theologically minded sort. In the Civil Wars and the events that followed he had remained non-partisan. He accepted office from Cromwell, though without doubt mildly sympathizing with the king. One of those who had assisted in recalling Charles II, he rose shortly to be chief baron of the exchequer. Famous for his careful and reasoned interpretation of law, he was to leave behind him a high reputation for his justice and for the exceptional precision of his judgments. It is not too much to say that he was one of the greatest legal figures of his century and that his decisions served in no small degree to fix the law. We should like to know how far he had been brought into contact with the subject of witchcraft, but we can do no more than guess. His early career had been moulded in no small degree by Selden, who, as has been noted in an earlier chapter, believed in the punishment of those who claimed to be witches. It is not unreasonable to suppose that the Puritans with whom he had been thrown were all of them ready to quote Scripture against the minions of Satan. We know that he had read some of the works of Henry More,[13] and, whether or not familiar with his chapters on witchcraft, would have deduced from that writer's general philosophy of spirits the particular application. The trial concerned two women of Lowestoft, Amy Duny and Rose Cullender. The first had been reputed a witch and a "person of very evil behaviour." She was in all probability related to some of those women who had suffered at the hands of Hopkins, and to that connection owed her ill name. Some six or seven years before the date of the trial she had got herself into trouble while taking care of the child of a tradesman in Lowestoft. It would seem that, contrary to the orders of the mother, she had suckled the child. The child had that same night been attacked by fits, and a witch doctor of Yarmouth, who was consulted, had prescribed for it. The reader will note that this "suspicious circumstance" happened seven years earlier, and a large part of the evidence presented in court concerned what had occurred from five to seven years before. We can not go into the details of a trial which abounded in curious bits of evidence. The main plot indeed was an old one. The accused woman, after she had been discharged from employment and reproved, had been heard to mutter threats, close upon which the children of those she cursed, who were now the witnesses against her, had fallen ill. Two of the children had suffered severely and were still afflicted. They had thrown up pins and even a two-penny nail. The nail, which was duly offered as an exhibit in court, had been brought to one of the children by a bee and had been forced into the child's mouth, upon which she expelled it. This narrative was on a level with the other, that flies brought crooked pins to the child. Both flies and bee, it will be understood, were the witches in other form. A similar sort of evidence was that a toad, which had been found as the result of the witch doctor's directions, had been thrown into the fire, upon which a sharp crackling noise ensued. When this incident was testified to in the court the judge interrupted to ask if after the explosion the substance of the toad was not to be seen in the fire. He was answered in the negative. On the next day Amy Duny was found to have her face and body all scorched. She said to the witness that "she might thank her for it." There can be no doubt in the world that this testimony of the coincident burning of the woman and the toad was regarded as damning proof, nor is there any reason to believe that the court deemed it necessary to go behind the mere say-so of a single witness for the fact. Along with this sort of unsubstantial testimony there was presented a monotonous mass of spectral evidence. Apparitions of the witches were the constant occasions for the paroxysms of the children. In another connection it will be observed that this form of proof was becoming increasingly common in the last part of the seventeenth century. It can hardly be doubted that in one way or another the use of such evidence at Bury influenced other trials and more particularly the Salem cases in the New World, where great importance was attached to evidence of this sort. The usual nauseating evidence as to the Devil's marks was introduced by the testimony of the mother of one of the children bewitched. She had been, a month before, a member of a jury of matrons appointed by a justice of the peace to examine the body of the accused. Most damning proof against the woman had been found. It is very hard for us to understand why Hale allowed to testify, as one of the jury of examining matrons, a woman who was at the same time mother of one of the bewitched children upon whom the prosecution largely depended. So far the case for the prosecution had been very strong, but it was in the final experiments in court, which were expected to clinch the evidence, that a very serious mishap occurred. A bewitched child, eleven years old, had been fetched into court. With eyes closed and head reclining upon the bar she had remained quiet until one of the accused was brought up, when she at once became frantic in her effort to scratch her. This was tried again and again and in every instance produced the same result. The performance must have had telling effect. But there happened to be present at the trial three Serjeants of the law. One of them, Serjeant John Kelyng, a few years later to become chief justice of the king's bench, was "much dissatisfied." He urged the point that the mere fact that the children were bewitched did not establish their claim to designate the authors of their misfortune. There were others present who agreed with Kelyng in suspecting the actions of the girl on the stand. Baron Hale was induced, at length, to appoint a committee of several gentlemen, including Serjeant Kelyng, to make trial of the girl with her eyes covered. An outside party was brought up to her and touched her hand. The girl was expecting that Amy Duny would be brought up and flew into the usual paroxysms. This was what the committee had expected, and they declared their belief that the whole transaction was a mere imposture. One would have supposed that every one else must come to the same conclusion, but Mr. Pacy, the girl's father, offered an explanation of her mistake that seems to have found favor. The maid, he said, "might be deceived by a suspicion that the Witch touched her when she did not." One would suppose that this subtle suggestion would have broken the spell, and that Mr. Pacy would have been laughed out of court. Alas for the rarity of humor in seventeenth-century court rooms! Not only was the explanation received seriously, but it was, says the court reporter, afterwards found to be true. In the mean time expert opinion had been called in. It is hard to say whether Dr. Browne had been requisitioned for the case or merely happened to be present. At all events, he was called upon to render his opinion as a medical man. The name of Thomas Browne is one eminent in English literature and not unknown in the annals of English medicine and science. More than twenty years earlier he had expressed faith in the reality of witchcraft.[14] In his _Commonplace Book_, a series of jottings made throughout his life, he reiterated his belief, but uttered a doubt as to the connection between possession and witchcraft.[15] We should be glad to know at what time Browne wrote this deliverance; for, when called upon at Bury, he made no application of his principles of caution. He gave it as his opinion that the bewitchment of the two girls was genuine. The vomiting of needles and nails reminded him very much of a recent case in Denmark. For the moment the physician spoke, when he said that "these swounding Fits were Natural." But it was the student of seventeenth-century theology who went on: they were "heightened to a great excess by the subtilty of the Devil, co-operating with the Malice of these which we term Witches, at whose Instance he doth these Villanies." No doubt Browne's words confirmed the sentiment of the court room and strengthened the case of the prosecution. But it will not be overlooked by the careful reader that he did not by any means commit himself as to the guilt of the parties at the bar. When the judge found that the prisoners had "nothing material" to say for themselves he addressed the jury. Perhaps because he was not altogether clear in his own mind about the merits of the case, he refused to sum up the evidence. It is impossible for us to understand why he did not carry further the tests which had convinced Kelyng of the fraud, or why he did not ask questions which would have uncovered the weakness of the testimony. One cannot but suspect that North's criticism of him, that he had a "leaning towards the Popular" and that he had gained such "transcendent" authority as not easily to bear contradiction,[16] was altogether accurate. At all events he passed over the evidence and went on to declare that there were two problems before the jury: (1) were these children bewitched, (2) were the prisoners at the bar guilty of it? As to the existence of witches, he never doubted it. The Scriptures affirmed it, and all nations provided laws against such persons. On the following Sunday Baron Hale composed a meditation upon the subject. Unfortunately it was simply a dissertation on Scripture texts and touched upon the law at no point. It is obvious enough to the most casual student that Sir Matthew Hale had a chance to anticipate the work of Chief Justice Holt and missed it. In the nineties of the seventeenth century, as we shall see, there was a man in the chief justiceship who dared to nullify the law of James I. It is not too much to say that Matthew Hale by a different charge to the jury could as easily have made the current of judicial decisions run in favor of accused witches all over England. His weight was thrown in the other direction, and the witch-triers for a half-century to come invoked the name of Hale.[17] There is an interesting though hardly trustworthy story told by Speaker Onslow[18]--writing a century later--that Hale "was afterwards much altered in his notions as to this matter, and had great concern upon him for what had befallen these persons." This seems the more doubtful because there is not a shred of proof that Hale's decisions occasioned a word of criticism among his contemporaries.[19] So great, indeed, was the spell of his name that not even a man like John Webster dared to comment upon his decision. Not indeed until nearly the middle of the eighteenth century does anyone seem to have felt that the decision called for apology. The third noteworthy ruling in this period anent the crime of witchcraft was made a few years later in Wiltshire by Justice Rainsford. The story, as he himself told it to a colleague, was this: "A Witch was brought to Salisbury and tried before him. Sir James Long came to his Chamber, and made a heavy Complaint of this Witch, and said that if she escaped, his Estate would not be worth any Thing; for all the People would go away. It happen'd that the Witch was acquitted, and the Knight continued extremely concern'd; therefore the Judge, to save the poor Gentleman's Estate, order'd the Woman to be kept in Gaol, and that the Town should allow her 2s. 6d. per Week; for which he was very thankful. The very next Assizes, he came to the Judge to desire his lordship would let her come back to the Town. And why? They could keep her for 1s. 6d. there; and, in the Gaol, she cost them a shilling more."[20] Another case before Justice Rainsford showed him less lenient. By a mere chance we have a letter, written at the time by one of the justices of the peace in Malmesbury, which sheds no little light on this affair and on the legal status of witchcraft at that time.[21] A certain Ann Tilling had been taken into custody on the complaint of Mrs. Webb of Malmesbury. The latter's son had swooning fits in which he accused Ann of bewitching him. Ann Tilling made voluble confession, implicating Elizabeth Peacock and Judith Witchell, who had, she declared, inveigled her into the practice of their evil arts. Other witches were named, and in a short time twelve women and two men were under accusation. But the alderman of Malmesbury, who was the chief magistrate of that town, deemed it wise before going further to call in four of the justices of the peace in that subdivision of the county. Three of these justices of the peace came and listened to the confessions, and were about to make out a mittimus for sending eleven of the accused to Salisbury, when the fourth justice arrived, the man who has given us the story. He was, according to his own account, not "very credulous in matters of Witchcraft," and he made a speech to the other justices. "Gentlemen, what is done at this place, a Borough remote from the centre of this large County, and almost forty miles from Salisbury, will be expended [_sic_] both by the Reverend Judges, the learned Counsayle there ..., and the Gentry of the body of the County, so that if anything be done here rashly, it will be severely censured." He went on to urge the danger that the boy whose fits were the cause of so much excitement might be an impostor, and that Ann Tilling, who had freely confessed, might be in confederacy with the parents. The skeptical justice, who in spite of his boasted incredulity was a believer in the reality of witchcraft, was successful with his colleagues. All the accused were dismissed save Tilling, Peacock, and Witchell. They were sent to Salisbury and tried before Sir Richard Rainsford. Elizabeth Peacock, who had been tried on similar charges before, was dismissed. The other two were sentenced to be hanged.[22] Ten years later came a fourth remarkable ruling against witchcraft, this time by Justice Raymond at Exeter. During the intervening years there had been cases a-plenty in England and a few hangings, but none that had attracted comment. It was not until the summer of 1682, when three Devonshire women were arraigned, tried, and sent to the gallows by Justice Raymond,[23] that the public again realized that witchcraft was still upheld by the courts. The trials in themselves had no very striking features. At least two of the three women had been beggars; the other, who had been the first accused and who had in all probability involved her two companions, had on two different occasions before been arraigned but let off. The evidence submitted against them consisted of the usual sworn statements made by neighbors to the justice of the peace, as well as of hardly coherent confessions by the accused. The repetition of the Lord's Prayer was gone through with and the results of examinations by a female jury were detailed _ad nauseam_. The poor creatures on trial were remarkably stupid, even for beings of their grade. Their several confessions tallied with one another in hardly a single point. Sir Thomas Raymond and Sir Francis North were the judges present at the Exeter assizes. Happily the latter has left his impressions of this trial.[24] He admits that witch trials worried him because the evidence was usually slight, but the people very intent upon a verdict of guilty. He was very glad that at Exeter his colleague who sat upon the "crown side" had to bear the responsibilities.[25] The two women (he seems to have known of no more) were scarce alive as to sense and understanding, but were "overwhelm'd with melancholy and waking Dreams." Barring confessions, the other evidence he considered trifling, and he cites the testimony of a witness that "he saw a cat leap in at her (the old woman's) window, when it was twilight; and this Informant farther saith that he verily believeth the said Cat to be the Devil, and more saith not." Raymond, declares his colleague, made no nice distinctions as to the possibility of melancholy women contracting an opinion of themselves that was false, but left the matter to the jury.[26] We have already intimated that the rulings of the courts were by no means all of them adverse to the witches. Almost contemporaneous with the far-reaching sentence of Sir Matthew Hale at Bury were the trials in Somerset, where flies and nails and needles played a similar part, but where the outcome was very different. A zealous justice of the peace, Robert Hunt, had for the last eight years been on the lookout for witches. In 1663 he had turned Julian Cox over to the tender mercies of Justice Archer. By 1664 he had uncovered a "hellish knot" of the wicked women and was taking depositions against them, wringing confessions from them and sending them to gaol with all possible speed.[27] The women were of the usual class, a herd of poor quarrelsome, bickering females who went from house to house seeking alms. In the numbers of the accused the discovery resembled that at Lancaster in 1633-1634, as indeed it did in other ways. A witch meeting or conventicle was confessed to. The county was being terrified and entertained by the most horrible tales, when suddenly a quietus was put upon the affair "by some of them in authority." A witch chase, which during the Civil Wars would have led to a tragedy, was cut short, probably through the agency of a privy council less fearful of popular sentiment than the assize judges. The Mompesson case[28] was of no less importance in its time, although it belongs rather in the annals of trickery than in those of witchcraft. But the sensation which it caused in England and the controversy waged over it between the upholders of witchcraft and the "Sadducees," give the story a considerable interest and render the outcome of the trial significant. The only case of its sort in its time, it was nevertheless most typical of the superstition of the time. A little town in Wiltshire had been disturbed by a stray drummer. The self-constituted noise-maker was called to account by a stranger in the village, a Mr. Mompesson of Tedworth, who on examining the man's license saw that it had been forged and took it away from him. This, at any rate, was Mr. Mompesson's story as to how he had incurred the ill will of the man. The drummer took his revenge in a singular way. Within a few days the Mompesson family at Tedworth began to be annoyed at night by strange noises or drummings on the roofs. All the phenomena and manifestations which we associate with a modern haunted-house story were observed by this alarmed family of the seventeenth century. The little girls were knocked about in their beds at night, a stout servant was forcibly held hand and foot, the children's shoes were thrown about, the chairs glided about the room. It would seem that all this bold horse-play must soon have been exposed, but it went on merrily. Whenever any tune was called for, it was given on the drum. The family Bible was thrown upside down into the ashes. For three weeks, however, the spirits ceased operations during the lying-in of Mrs. Mompesson. But they sedulously avoided the family servants, especially when those retainers happened to be armed with swords. Well they might, for we are told that on one occasion, after a pistol shot had been fired at the place where they were heard, blood was found on the spot. In another instance, according to Mr. Mompesson's own account, there were seen figures, "in the shape of Men, who, as soon as a Gun was discharg'd, would shuffle away together into an Arbour." It is clear enough that a somewhat clumsy fraud was being imposed upon Mr. Mompesson. A contemporary writer tells us he was told that it was done by "two Young Women in the House with a design to scare thence Mr. Mompesson's Mother."[29] From other sources it is quite certain that the injured drummer had a hand in the affair. A very similar game had been played at Woodstock in 1649, and formed a comedy situation of which Scott makes brilliant use in his novel of that name. Indeed, it is quite possible that the drummer, who had been a soldier of Cromwell's, was inspired by a memory of that affair. But there was no one to detect the fraud, as at Woodstock. Tedworth became a Mecca for those interested in the supernatural. One of the visitors was Joseph Glanvill, at this time a young man of twenty-seven, later to become a member of the Royal Society and chaplain in ordinary to the king. The spirits were less noisy; they were always somewhat restrained before visitors, but scratched on bed sheets and panted in dog fashion, till Glanvill was thoroughly taken in. For the rest of his life this psychic experimenter fought a literary war over this case with those who made fun of it. While we cannot prove it, we may guess with some confidence that this episode was the beginning of the special interest in the supernatural upon Glanvill's part which was later to make him the arch-defender of the witchcraft superstition in his generation. How wide an interest the matter evoked may be judged from the warm discussions upon it at Cambridge, and from the royal interest in it which induced Charles to send down a committee of investigation. Curiously enough, the spirits were singularly and most extraordinarily quiet when the royal investigators were at work, a fact to which delighted skeptics pointed with satisfaction. One wonders that the drummer, who must have known that his name would be connected with the affair, failed to realize the risk he was running from the witch hunters. He was indicted on minor felonies of another sort, but the charges which Mompesson brought against him seem to have been passed over. The man was condemned for stealing and was transported. With his departure the troubles at Tedworth ceased. But the drummer, in some way, escaped and returned to England. The angry Mompesson now brought him to the assizes as a felon on the strength of the statute of James I. Unhappily we have no details of this trial, nor do we know even the name of the judge; but we do know that the jury gave a verdict of acquittal. In 1671 Cornwall was stirred up over a witch whose crimes were said to be directed against the state. She had hindered the English fleet in their war against the Dutch, she had caused a bull to kill one of the enemies in Parliament of the Non-Conformists, she had been responsible for the barrenness of the queen. And for all these political crimes the chief evidence was that some cats had been seen playing ("dancing") near her house. She was committed, along with several other women who were accused. Although at the assizes they were all proved to have had cats and rats about them, they went free.[30] In 1682, the same year in which the three women of Devonshire had been condemned, there was a trial at Southwark, just outside of London, which resulted in a verdict of acquittal. The case had many of the usual features, but in two points was unique. Joan Butts was accused of having bewitched a child that had been taken with fits.[31] Nineteen or twenty witnesses testified against the witch. One of the witnesses heard her say that, if she had not bewitched the child, if all the devils in hell could help her, she would bewitch it. Joan admitted the words, but said that she had spoken them in passion. She then turned on one of the witnesses and declared that he had given himself to the Devil, body and soul. Chief Justice Pemberton was presiding, and he called her to order for this attack on a witness, and then catechized her as to her means of knowing the fact. The woman had thoughtlessly laid herself open by her own words to the most serious suspicion. In spite of this, however, the jury brought her in not guilty, "to the great amazement of some, ... yet others who consider the great difficulty in proving a Witch, thought the jury could do no less than acquit her." This was, during the period, the one trial in or near London of which we have details. There can be no doubt that the courts in London and the vicinity were beginning to ignore cases of witchcraft. After 1670 there were no more trials of the sort in Middlesex. The reader will remember that Justice North had questioned the equity of Justice Raymond's decision at Exeter. He has told us the story of a trial at Taunton-Dean, where he himself had to try a witch.[32] A ten-year-old girl, who was taking strange fits and spitting out pins, was the witness against an old man whom she accused of bewitching her. The defendant made "a Defence as orderly and well expressed as I ever heard spoke." The judge then asked the justice of the peace who had committed the man his opinion. He said that he believed the girl, "doubling herself in her Fit, as being convulsed, bent her Head down close to her Stomacher, and with her Mouth, took Pins out of the Edge of that, and then, righting herself a little, spit them into some By-stander's Hands." "The Sum of it was Malice, Threatening, and Circumstances of Imposture in the Girl." As the judge went downstairs after the man had been acquitted, "an hideous old woman" cried to him, "My Lord, Forty Years ago they would have hang'd me for a Witch, and they could not; and now they would have hang'd my poor Son." The five cases we have cited, while not so celebrated as those on the other side, were quite as representative of what was going on in England. It is to be regretted that we have not the records by which to compute the acquittals of this period. In a large number of cases where we have depositions we have no statement of the outcome. This is particularly true of Yorkshire. As has been pointed out in the earlier part of the chapter, we can be sure that most of these cases were dismissed or were never brought to trial. When we come to the question of the forms of evidence presented during this period, we have a story that has been told before. Female juries, convulsive children or child pretenders, we have met them all before. Two or three differences may nevertheless be noted. The use of spectral evidence was becoming increasingly common. The spectres, as always, assumed weird forms. Nicholas Rames's wife (at Longwitton, in the north) saw Elizabeth Fenwick and the Devil dancing together.[33] A sick boy in Cornwall saw a "Woman in a blue Jerkin and Red Petticoat with Yellow and Green patches," who was quickly identified and put in hold.[34] Sometimes the spectres were more material. Jane Milburne of Newcastle testified that Dorothy Stranger, in the form of a cat, had leaped upon her and held her to the ground for a quarter of an hour.[35] A "Barber's boy" in Cambridge had escaped from a spectral woman in the isle of Ely, but she followed him to Cambridge and killed him with a blow. "He had the exact mark in his forehead, being dead, where the Spiritual Woman did hit him alive."[36] It is unnecessary to multiply cases. The _Collection of Modern Relations_ is full of the same sort of evidence. It has been seen that in nearly every epoch of witch history the voluntary and involuntary confessions of the accused had greatly simplified the difficulties of prosecution. The witches whom Matthew Hopkins discovered were too ready to confess to enormous and unnatural crimes. In this respect there is a marked change in the period of the later Stuarts. Elizabeth Style of Somerset in 1663 and the three Devonshire witches of 1682 were the only ones who made confessions. Elizabeth Style[37] had probably been "watched," in spite of Glanvill's statement to the contrary, perhaps somewhat in the same torturing way as the Suffolk witches whom Hopkins "discovered," and her wild confession showed the effect. The Devonshire women were half-witted creatures, of the type that had always been most voluble in confession; but such were now exceptions. This means one of two things. Either the witches of the Restoration were by some chance a more intelligent set, or they were showing more spirit than ever before because they had more supporters and fairer treatment in court. It is quite possible that both suppositions have in them some elements of truth. As the belief in the powers of witches developed in form and theory, it came to draw within its radius more groups of people. In its earlier stages the attack upon the witch had been in part the community's way of ridding itself of a disreputable member. By the time that the process of attack had been developed for a century, it had become less impersonal. Personal hatreds were now more often the occasion of accusation. Individual malice was playing a larger rôle. In consequence those who were accused were more often those who were capable of fighting for themselves or who had friends to back them. And those friends were more numerous and zealous because the attitude of the public and of the courts was more friendly to the accused witch. This explanation is at best, however, nothing more than a suggestion. We have not the material for confident generalization. One other form of evidence must be mentioned. The town of Newcastle, which in 1649 had sent to Scotland for a witchfinder, was able in 1673 to make use of home-grown talent. In this instance it was a woman, Ann Armstrong, who implicated a score of her neighbors and at length went around pointing out witches. She was a smooth-witted woman who was probably taking a shrewd method of turning off charges against herself. Her testimony dealt with witch gatherings or conventicles held at various times and places. She told whom she had seen there and what they had said about their crimes. She told of their feasts and of their dances. Poor woman, she had herself been compelled to sing for them while they danced. Nor was this the worst. She had been terribly misused. She had been often turned into a horse, then bridled and ridden.[38] It would not be worth while to go further into Ann Armstrong's stories. It is enough to remark that she offered details, as to harm done to certain individuals in certain ways, which tallied closely with the sworn statements of those individuals as to what had happened to them at the times specified. The conclusion cannot be avoided that the female witchfinder had been at no small pains to get even such minute details in exact form. She had gathered together all the witch stories of that part of Northumberland and had embodied them in her account of the confessions made at the "conventicles." What was the ruling of the court on all this evidence we do not know. We have only one instance in which any evidence was ruled out. That was at the trial of Julian Cox in 1663. Justice Archer tried an experiment in that trial, but before doing so he explained to the court that no account was to be taken of the result in making up their verdict. He had heard that a witch could not repeat the petition in the Lord's Prayer, "Lead us not into temptation." The witch indeed failed to meet the test.[39] In the course of this period we have two trials that reveal a connection between witchcraft and other crimes. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that the charge of witchcraft was sometimes made when other crimes were suspected, but could not be proved. The first case concerned a rich farmer in Northamptonshire who had gained the ill will of a woman named Ann Foster. Thirty of his sheep were found dead with their "Leggs broke in pieces, and their Bones all shattered in their Skins." A little later his house and barns were set on fire. Ann Foster was brought to trial for using witchcraft against him, confessed to it, and was hanged.[40] The other case was at Brightling in Sussex, not far from London. There a woman who was suspected as the one who had told a servant that Joseph Cruther's house would be burned--a prophecy which came true very shortly--was accused as a witch. She had been accused years before at the Maidstone assizes, but had gone free. This time she was "watched" for twenty-four hours and four ministers kept a fast over the affair.[41] These cases are worth something as an indication that the charge of witchcraft was still a method of getting rid of people whom the community feared. At the beginning of this chapter the years 1660 to 1688 were marked off as constituting a single epoch in the history of the superstition. Yet those years were by no means characterized by the same sort of court verdicts. The sixties saw a decided increase over the years of the Commonwealth in the number of trials and in the number of executions. The seventies witnessed a rapid dropping off in both figures. Even more so the eighties. By the close of the eighties the accounts of witchcraft were exceedingly rare. The decisions of the courts in the matter were in a state of fluctuation. Two things were happening. The justices of the peace were growing much more reluctant to send accused witches to the assize courts; and the itinerant judges as a body were, in spite of the decisions of Hale and Raymond, more careful in witch trials than ever before, and more likely to withstand public sentiment. The changes of opinion, as reflected in the literature of the time, especially in the literature of the subject, will show the same tendencies. We shall take them up in the next chapter. [1] See Raine, ed., _York Depositions_ (Surtees Soc.), preface, xxx. [2] Joseph Hunter, _Life of Heywood_ (London, 1842), 167, and Heywood's _Diaries_, ed. J. H. Turner (Brighouse, 1881-1885), I, 199; III, 100. Heywood, who was one of the leading Dissenters of his time, must not be credited with extreme superstition. In noting the death of a boy whom his parents believed bewitched, he wrote, "Oh that they saw the lords hand." _Diary_, I, 287. [3] William Drage, _Daimonomageia_ (London, 1665), 32-38. [4] _The Lord's Arm Stretched Out, ... or a True Relation of the wonderful Deliverance of James Barrow ..._ (London, 1664). [5] Compare Drage, _op. cit._, 36, 39, 42, with _The Lord's Arm Stretched Out_, 17. Mary Hall, whose cure Drage celebrates, had friends among the Baptists. Drage seems to connect her case with those of Barrow and Hannah Crump, both of whom were helped by that "dispirited people" whom the author of _The Lord's Arm Stretched Out_ exalts. [6] Drage, _op. cit._, 34. [7] _Yorkshire Notes and Queries_, I (Bradford, 1885), 26. But a physician in Winchester Park, whom Hannah Crump had consulted, had asked five pounds to unbewitch her. [8] Drage, _op. cit._, 39. [9] _York Depositions_, 127. [10] See E. Mackenzie, _History of Northumberland_ (Newcastle, 1825), II, 33-36. We do not know that the woman was excused, but the case was before Henry Ogle and we may fairly guess the outcome. [11] Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 191-209. [12] This is the estimate of him by North, who adds: "and he knew it." Roger North, _Life of the Rt. Hon. Francis North, Baron of Guilford ..._ (London, 1742), 62-63. [13] _Diary and Correspondence of Dr. John Worthington_, II, pt. I (Chetham Soc., no. 36, 1855), 155. [14] In his _Religio Medici_. See _Sir Thomas Browne's Works_ (ed. S. Wilkin, London, 1851-1852), II, 43. [15] _Ibid._, IV, 389. [16] Roger North, _op. cit._, 61. [17] Inderwick has given a good illustration of Hale's weakness of character: "I confess," he says, "to a feeling of pain at finding him in October, 1660, sitting as a judge at the Old Bailey, trying and condemning to death batches of the regicides, men under whose orders he had himself acted, who had been his colleagues in parliament, with whom he had sat on committees to alter the law." _Interregnum_, 217-218. [18] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIV, 9, p. 480. [19] Bishop Burnet, in his _Life and Death of Sir Matthew Hale_ (London, 1682), does not seem to have felt called upon to mention the Bury trial at all. See also Lord Campbell, _Lives of the Chief Justices_ (London, 1849), I, 563-567. [20] Roger North, _op. cit._, 130, 131. The story, as here told, ascribes the event to the year preceding Lord Guilford's first western circuit--_i. e._, to 1674. But this perhaps need not be taken too exactly, and the witch was probably that Elizabeth Peacock who was acquitted in 1670 and again in the case of 1672 described above. At least the list of "Indictments for witchcraft on the Western Circuit from 1670 to 1712," published by Inderwick in his _Sidelights on the Stuarts_ (London, 1888), shows no other acquittal in Wiltshire during this decade. [21] For this letter see the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1832, pt. I, 405-410, 489-402. The story is confirmed in part by Inderwick's finds in the western Gaol Delivery records. As to the trustworthiness of this unknown justice of the peace, see above, pp. 160, 162, and notes. [22] That the judge was Sir Richard Rainsford appears from Inderwick's list, mentioned above, note 20. [23] _A True and Impartial Relation of the Informations against ... Temperance Lloyd, Mary Trembles, and Susanna Edwards_ (London, 1682). And _The Tryal, Condemnation and Execution of Three Witches ..._ (London, 1682). See also below, note 26, and appendix A, § 6. [24] Roger North, _op. cit._, 130. [25] At a trial at the York assizes in 1687 Sir John Reresby seems to have played about the same part that North played at Exeter. Serjeant Powell, later to be chief justice, was presiding over the case. "An old woman was condemned for a witch. Those who were more credulous in points of this nature than myself, conceived the evidence to be very strong against her. The boy she was said to have bewitched fell down on a sudden before all the court when he saw her, and would then as suddenly return to himself again, and very distinctly relate the several injuries she had done him: but in all this it was observed the boy was free from any distortion; that he did not foam at the mouth, and that his fits did not leave him gradually, but all at once; so that, upon the whole, the judge thought it proper to reprieve her." _Memoirs and Travels of Sir John Reresby_ (London, 1813), 329. [26] There is indeed some evidence that Raymond wished not to condemn the women, but yielded nevertheless to public opinion. In a pamphlet published five years later it is stated that the judge "in his charge to the jury gave his Opinion that these three poor Women (as he supposed) were weary of their Lives, and that he thought it proper for them to be carryed to the Parish from whence they came, and that the Parish should be charged with their Maintainance; for he thought their oppressing Poverty had constrained them to wish for Death." Unhappily the neighbors made such an outcry that the women were found guilty and sentenced. This is from a later and somewhat untrustworthy account, but it fits in well with what North says of the case. _The Life and Conversation of Temperance Floyd, Mary Lloyd_ [sic], _and Susanna Edwards: ..._ (London, 1687). [27] The second part of Glanvill's _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ is full of these depositions. [28] For a full account of this affair see Glanvill's _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, preface and Relation I. Glanvill had investigated the matter and had diligently collected all the evidence. He was familiar also with what the "deriders" had to say, and we can discover their point of view from his answers. See also John Beaumont, _An Historical, Physiological and Theological Treatise of Spirits, Apparitions, Witchcrafts, and other Magical Practices_ (London, 1705), 307-309. [29] _Ibid._, 309. [30] _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1671_, 105, 171. [31] We have two accounts of this affair: _Strange and Wonderful News from Yowell in Surry_ (1681), and _An Account of the Tryal and Examination of Joan Buts_ (1682). [32] Roger North, _op. cit._, 131-132. [33] _York Depositions_, 247. [34] _A True Account ... of one John Tonken, of Pensans in Cornwall ..._ (1686). For other examples of spectral evidence see _York Depositions_, 88; Roberts, _Southern Counties_ (London, 1856), 525-526; _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1832, pt. II, 489. [35] _York Depositions_, 112, 113. [36] Drage, _Daimonomageia_, 12. [37] For an account of her case, see Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 127-146. [38] _York Depositions_, 191-201. [39] For a complete account of the Julian Cox case see Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 191-209. [40] _A Full and True Relation of the Tryal ... of Ann Foster ..._ (London, 1674). [41] _Sussex Archaeological Collections_, XVIII, 111-113. CHAPTER XII. GLANVILL AND WEBSTER AND THE LITERARY WAR OVER WITCHCRAFT, 1660-1688. In an earlier chapter we followed the progress of opinion from James I to the Restoration. We saw that in the course of little more than a half-century the centre of the controversy had been considerably shifted: we noted that there was a growing body of intelligent men who discredited the stories of witchcraft and were even inclined to laugh at them. It is now our purpose to go on with the history of opinion from the point at which we left off to the revolution of 1688. We shall discover that the body of literature on the subject was enormously increased. We shall see that a larger and more representative group of men were expressing themselves on the matter. The controversialists were no longer bushwhackers, but crafty warriors who joined battle after looking over the field and measuring their forces. The groundworks of philosophy were tested, the bases of religious faith examined. The days of skirmishing about the ordeal of water and the test of the Devil's marks were gone by. The combatants were now to fight over the reality or unreality of supernatural phenomena. We shall observe that the battle was less one-sided than ever before and that the assailants of superstition, who up to this time had been outnumbered, now fought on at least even terms with their enemies. We shall see too that the non-participants and onlookers were more ready than ever before to join themselves to the party of attack. The struggle was indeed a miniature war and in the main was fought very fairly. But it was natural that those who disbelieved should resort to ridicule. It was a form of attack to which their opponents exposed themselves by their faith in the utterly absurd stories of silly women. Cervantes with his Don Quixote laughed chivalry out of Europe, and there was a class in society that would willingly have laughed witchcraft out of England. Their onslaught was one most difficult to repel. Nevertheless the defenders of witchcraft met the challenge squarely. With unwearying patience and absolute confidence in their cause they collected the testimonies for their narratives and then said to those who laughed: Here are the facts; what are you going to do about them? The last chapter told of the alarms in Somerset and in Wilts and showed what a stir they produced in England. In connection with those affairs was mentioned the name of that brave researcher, Mr. Glanvill. The history of the witch literature of this period is little more than an account of Joseph Glanvill, of his opinions, of his controversies, of his disciples and his opponents. It is not too much to say that in Glanvill the superstition found its ablest advocate. In acuteness of logical distinction, in the cleverness and brilliance of his intellectual sword-play, he excelled all others before and after who sought to defend the belief in witchcraft. He was a man entitled to speak with some authority. A member of Exeter College at Oxford, he had been in 1664 elected a fellow of the recently founded Royal Society and was in sympathy with its point of view. At the same time he was a philosopher of no small influence in his generation. His intellectual position is not difficult to determine. He was an opponent of the Oxford scholasticism and inclined towards a school of thought represented by Robert Fludd, the two Vaughans, Henry More, and Van Helmont,[1] men who had drunk deeply of the cabalistic writers, disciples of Paracelsus and Pico della Mirandola. It would be foolhardy indeed for a layman to attempt an elucidation of the subtleties either of this philosophy or of the processes of Glanvill's philosophical reasoning. His point of view was partially unfolded in the _Scepsis Scientifica_, published in 1665[2] and dedicated to the Royal Society. In this treatise he pointed out our present ignorance of phenomena and our inability to determine their real character, owing to the subjectivity of our perceptions of them, and insisted consequently upon the danger of dogmatism. He himself had drawn but a cockle-shell of water from the ocean of knowledge. His notion of spirit--if his works on witchcraft may be trusted--seems to have been that it is a light and invisible form of matter capable of detachment from or infusion into more solid substances--precisely the idea of Henry More. Religiously, it would not be far wrong to call him a reconstructionist--to use a much abused and exceedingly modern term. He did not, indeed, admit the existence of any gap between religion and science that needed bridging over, but the trend of his teaching, though he would hardly have admitted it, was to show that the mysteries of revealed religion belong in the field of unexplored science.[3] It was his confidence in the far possibilities opened by investigation in that field, together with the cabalistic notions he had absorbed, which rendered him so willing to become a student of psychical phenomena. Little wonder, then, that he found the Mompesson and Somerset cases material to his hand and that he seized upon them eagerly as irrefutable proof of demoniacal agency. His first task, indeed, was to prove the alleged facts; these once established, they could be readily fitted into a comprehensive scheme of reasoning. In 1666 he issued a small volume, _Some Philosophical Considerations touching Witches and Witchcraft_. Most of the first edition was burned in the fire of London, but the book was reprinted. Already by 1668 it had reached a fourth impression.[4] In this edition the work took the new title _A Blow at Modern Sadducism_, and it was republished again in 1681 with further additions as _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, which might be translated "Unbelief Conquered."[5] The work continued to be called for faster than the publisher could supply the demand, and went through several more revisions and reimpressions. One of the most popular books of the generation, it proved to be Glanvill's greatest title to contemporary fame. The success of the work was no doubt due in large measure to the collection of witch stories; but these had been inserted by the author as the groundwork of his argument. He recognized, as no one on his side of the controversy had done before, the force of the arguments made by the opposition. They were good points, but to them all he offered one short answer--the evidence of proved fact.[6] That such transformations as were ascribed to the witches were ridiculous, that contracts between the Devil and agents who were already under his control were absurd, that the Devil would never put himself at the nod and beck of miserable women, and that Providence would not permit His children to be thus buffeted by the evil one: these were the current objections;[7] and to them all Glanvill replied that one positive fact is worth a thousand negative arguments. Innumerable frauds had been exposed. Yes, he knew it,[8] but here were well authenticated cases that were not fraud. Glanvill put the issue squarely. His confidence in his case at once wins admiration. He was thoroughly sincere. The fly in the ointment was of course that his best authenticated cases could not stand any careful criticism. He had been furnished the narratives which he used by "honest and honourable friends." Yet, if this scientific investigator could be duped, as he had been at Tedworth, much more those worthy but credulous friends whom he quoted. From a simple assertion that he was presenting facts Glanvill went on to make a plea used often nowadays in another connection by defenders of miracles. If the ordinary mind, he said, could not understand "every thing done by Mathematics and Mechanical Artifice,"[9] how much more would even the most knowing of us fail to understand the power of witches. This proposition, the reader can see, was nothing more than a working out of one of the principles of his philosophy. There can be no doubt that he would have taken the same ground about miracles,[10] a position that must have alarmed many of his contemporaries. In spite of his emphasis of fact, Glanvill was as ready as any to enter into a theological disquisition. Into those rarefied regions of thought we shall not follow him. It will perhaps not be out of order, however, to note two or three points that were thoroughly typical of his reasoning. To the contention that, if a wicked spirit could work harm by the use of a witch, it should be able to do so without any intermediary and so to harass all of mankind all of the time, he answered that the designs of demons are levelled at the soul and can in consequence best be carried on in secret.[11] To the argument that when one considers the "vileness of men" one would expect that the evil spirits would practise their arts not on a few but on a great many, he replied that men are not liable to be troubled by them till they have forfeited the "tutelary care and oversight of the better spirits," and, furthermore, spirits find it difficult to assume such shapes as are necessary for "their Correspondencie with Witches." It is a hard thing for spirits "to force their thin and tenuious bodies into a visible consistence.... For, in this Action, their Bodies must needs be exceedingly compress'd."[12] To the objection that the belief in evil beings makes it plausible that the miracles of the Bible were wrought by the agency of devils,[13] he replied that the miracles of the Gospel are notoriously contrary to the tendency, aims, and interests of the kingdom of darkness.[14] The suggestion that witches would not renounce eternal happiness for short and trivial pleasures here,[15] he silenced by saying that "Mankind acts sometimes to prodigious degrees of brutishness." It is needless to go further in quoting his arguments. Doubtless both questions and answers seem quibbles to the present-day reader, but the force of Glanvill's replies from the point of view of his contemporaries must not be underestimated. He was indeed the first defender of witchcraft who in any reasoned manner tried to clear up the problems proposed by the opposition. His answers were without question the best that could be given. It is easy for us to forget the theological background of seventeenth-century English thought. Given a personal Devil who is constantly intriguing against the kingdom of God (and who would then have dared to deny such a premise?), grant that the Devil has supernatural powers (and there were Scripture texts to prove it), and it was but a short step to the belief in witches. The truth is that Glanvill's theories were much more firmly grounded on the bedrock of seventeenth-century theology than those of his opponents. His opponents were attempting to use common sense, but it was a sort of common sense which, however little they saw it, must undermine the current religious convictions. Glanvill was indeed exceedingly up-to-date in his own time. Not but that he had read the learned old authors. He was familiar with what "the great Episcopius" had to say, he had dipped into Reginald Scot and deemed him too "ridiculous" to answer.[16] But he cared far more about the arguments that he heard advanced in every-day conversation. These were the arguments that he attempted to answer. His work reflected the current discussions of the subject. It was, indeed, the growing opposition among those whom he met that stirred him most. Not without sadness he recognized that "most of the looser Gentry and small pretenders to Philosophy and Wit are generally deriders of the belief of Witches and Apparitions."[17] Like an animal at bay, he turned fiercely on them. "Let them enjoy the Opinion of their own Superlative Judgements" and run madly after Scot, Hobbes, and Osborne. It was, in truth, a danger to religion that he was trying to ward off. One of the fundamentals of religion was at stake. The denial of witchcraft was a phase of prevalent atheism. Those that give up the belief in witches, give up that in the Devil, then that in the immortality of the soul.[18] The question at issue was the reality of the spirit world. It can be seen why the man was tremendously in earnest. One may indeed wonder if his intensity of feeling on the matter was not responsible for his accepting as _bona fide_ narratives those which his common sense should have made him reject. In defending the authenticity of the remarkable stories told by the accusers of Julian Cox,[19] he was guilty of a degree of credulity that passes belief. Perhaps the reader will recall the incident of the hunted rabbit that vanished behind a bush and was transformed into a panting woman, no other than the accused Julian Cox. This tale must indeed have strained Glanvill's utmost capacity of belief. Yet he rose bravely to the occasion. Determined not to give up any well-supported fact, he urged that probably the Devil had sent a spirit to take the apparent form of the hare while he had hurried the woman to the bush and had presumably kept her invisible until she was found by the boy. It was the Nemesis of a bad cause that its greatest defender should have let himself indulge in such absurdities. In truth we may be permitted to wonder if the philosopher was altogether true to his own position. In his _Scepsis Scientifica_ he had talked hopefully about the possibility that science might explain what as yet seemed supernatural.[20] This came perilously near to saying that the realms of the supernatural, when explored, would turn out to be natural and subject to natural law. If this were true, what would become of all those bulwarks of religion furnished by the wonders of witchcraft? It looks very much as if Glanvill had let an inconsistency creep into his philosophy. It was two years after Glanvill's first venture that Meric Casaubon issued his work entitled _Of Credulity and Incredulity in Things Natural, Civil, and Divine_.[21] On account of illness, however, as he tells the reader in his preface, he had been unable to complete the book, and it dealt only with "Things Natural" and "Things Civil." "Things Divine" became the theme of a separate volume, which appeared in 1670 under the title _Of Credulity and Incredulity in Things Divine and Spiritual: wherein ... the business of Witches and Witchcraft, against a late Writer, [is] fully Argued and Disputed_. The interest of this scholar in the subject of witchcraft was, as we have seen, by no means recent. When a young rector in Somerset he had attended a trial of witches, quite possibly the identical trial that had moved Bernard to appeal to grand jurymen. We have noted in an earlier chapter[22] that Casaubon in 1654, writing on _Enthusiasm_, had touched lightly upon the subject. It will be recalled that he had come very near to questioning the value of confessions. Five years later, in prefacing a _Relation of what passed between Dr. Dee and some Spirits_, he had anticipated the conclusions of his _Credulity and Incredulity_. Those conclusions were mainly in accord with Glanvill. With a good will he admitted that the denying of witches was a "very plausible cause." Nothing was more liable to be fraud than the exhibitions given at trials, nothing less trustworthy than the accounts of what witches had done. Too many cases originated in the ignorance of ministers who were on the look-out "in every wild notion or phansie" for a "suggestion of the Devil."[23] But, like Glanvill, and indeed like the spiritualists of to-day, he insisted that many cases of fraud do not establish a negative. There is a very large body of narratives so authentic that to doubt them would be evidence of infidelity. Casaubon rarely doubted, although he sought to keep the doubting spirit. It was hard for him not to believe what he had read or had been told. He was naturally credulous, particularly when he read the stories of the classical writers. For this attitude of mind he was hardly to be censured. Criticism was but beginning to be applied to the tales of Roman and Greek writers. Their works were full of stories of magic and enchantment, and it was not easy for a seventeenth-century student to shake himself free from their authority. Nor would Casaubon have wished to do so. He belonged to the past both by religion and raining, and he must be reckoned among the upholders of superstition.[24] In the next year, 1669, John Wagstaffe, a graduate of Oriel College who had applied himself to "the study of learning and politics," issued a little book, _The Question of Witchcraft Debated_. Wagstaffe was a university man of no reputation. "A little crooked man and of a despicable presence," he was dubbed by the Oxford wags the little wizard.[25] Nevertheless he had something to say and he gained no small hearing. Many of his arguments were purely theological and need not be repeated. But he made two good points. The notions about witches find their origin in "heathen fables." This was an undercutting blow at those who insisted on the belief in witchcraft as an essential of Christian faith; and Wagstaffe, moreover, made good his case. His second argument was one which no less needed to be emphasized. Coincidence, he believed, accounts for a great deal of the inexplicable in witchcraft narratives.[26] Within two years the book appeared again, much enlarged, and it was later translated into German. It was answered by two men--by Casaubon in the second part of his Credulity[27] and by an author who signed himself "R. T."[28] Casaubon added nothing new, nor did "R. T.," who threshed over old theological straw. The same can hardly be said of Lodowick Muggleton, a seventeenth-century Dowie who would fain have been a prophet of a new dispensation. He put out an exposition of the Witch of Endor that was entirely rationalistic.[29] Witches, he maintained, had no spirits but their own wicked imaginations. Saul was simply the dupe of a woman pretender. An antidote to this serious literature may be mentioned in passing. There was published at London, in 1673,[30] _A Pleasant Treatise of Witches_, in which a delightful prospect was opened to the reader: "You shall find nothing here of those Vulgar, Fabulous, and Idle Tales that are not worth the lending an ear to, nor of those hideous Sawcer-eyed and Cloven-Footed Divels, that Grandmas affright their children withal, but only the pleasant and well grounded discourses of the Learned as an object adequate to thy wise understanding." An outline was offered, but it was nothing more than a thread upon which to hang good stories. They were tales of a distant past. There were witches once, of course there were, but that was in the good old days. Such was the author's implication. Alas that such light treatment was so rare! The subject was, in the minds of most, not one for laughter. It called for serious consideration. That point of view came to its own again in _The Doctrine of Devils proved to be the grand apostacy of these later Times_.[31] The Dutch translator of this book tells us that it was written by a New England clergyman.[32] If that be true, the writer must have been one of the least provincial New Englanders of his century, for he evinces a remarkable knowledge of the witch alarms and witch discussions in England. Some of his opinions betray the influence of Scot, as for instance his interpretation of Christ's casting out of devils.[33] The term "having a devil" was but a phrase for one distracted. The author made, however, some new points. He believed that the importance of the New Testament miracles would be overshadowed by the greater miracles wrought by the Devil.[34] A more telling argument, at least to a modern reader, was that the solidarity of society would be endangered by a belief that made every man afraid of his neighbor.[35] The writer commends Wagstaffe's work, and writes of Casaubon, "If any one could possibly have bewitcht me into the Belief of Witchcraft, this reverend person, of all others, was most like to have done it." He decries the "proletarian Rabble," and "the great Philosophers" (More and Glanvill, doubtless), who call themselves Christians and yet hold "an Opinion that Butchers up Men and Women without Fear or Witt, Sense or Reason, Care or Conscience, by droves;" but he praises "the reverend judges of England, now ... much wiser than before," who "give small or no encouragement to such accusations." We come now to the second great figure among the witch-ologists of the Restoration, John Webster. Glanvill and Webster were protagonist and antagonist in a drama where the others played somewhat the rôle of the Greek chorus. It was in 1677 that Webster put forth _The Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_.[36] A Non-Conformist clergyman in his earlier life, he seems to have turned in later years to the practice of medicine. From young manhood he had been interested in the subject of witchcraft. Probably that interest dates from an experience of his one Sunday afternoon over forty years before he published his book. It will be recalled that the boy Robinson, accuser of the Lancashire women in 1634, had been brought into his Yorkshire congregation at an afternoon service and had come off very poorly when cross-questioned by the curious minister. From that time Webster had been a doubter. Now and again in the course of his Yorkshire and Lancashire pastorates he had come into contact with superstition. He was no philosopher, this Yorkshire doctor of souls and bodies, nor was he more than a country scientist, and his reasoning against witchcraft fell short--as Professor Kittredge has clearly pointed out[37]--of scientific rationalism. That was a high mark and few there were in the seventeenth century who attained unto it. But it is not too much to say that John Webster was the heir and successor to Scot. He carried weight by the force of his attack, if not by its brilliancy.[38] He was by no means always consistent, but he struck sturdy blows. He was seldom original, but he felled his opponents. Many of his strongest arguments, of course, were old. It was nothing new that the Witch of Endor was an impostor. It was Muggleton's notion, and it went back indeed to Scot. The emphasizing of the part played by imagination was as old as the oldest English opponent of witch persecution. The explanation of certain strange phenomena as ventriloquism--a matter that Webster had investigated painstakingly--this had been urged before. Webster himself did not believe that new arguments were needed. He had felt that the "impious and Popish opinions of the too much magnified powers of Demons and Witches, in this Nation were pretty well quashed and silenced" by various writers and by the "grave proceedings of many learned judges." But it was when he found that two "beneficed Ministers," Casaubon and Glanvill, had "afresh espoused so bad a cause" that he had been impelled to review their grounds. As the reader may already have guessed, Webster, like so many of his predecessors, dealt largely in theological and scriptural arguments. It was along this line, indeed, that he made his most important contribution to the controversy then going on. Glanvill had urged that disbelief in witchcraft was but one step in the path to atheism. No witches, no spirits, no immortality, no God, were the sequences of Glanvill's reasoning. In answer Webster urged that the denial of the existence of witches--_i. e._, of creatures endued with power from the Devil to perform supernatural wonders--had nothing to do with the existence of angels or spirits. We must rely upon other grounds for a belief in the spirit world. Stories of apparitions are no proof, because we cannot be sure that those apparitions are made or caused by spirits. We have no certain ground for believing in a spirit world but the testimony of Scripture.[39] But if we grant the existence of spirits--to modernize the form of Webster's argument--we do not thereby prove the existence of witches. The New Testament tells of various sorts of "deceiving Imposters, Diviners, or Witches," but amongst them all "there were none that had made a visible league with the Devil." There was no mention of transformation into cats, dogs, or wolves.[40] It is hard to see how the most literal students of the Scriptures could have evaded this argument. The Scriptures said a great deal about the Devil, about demoniacs, and about witches and magicians--whatever they might mean by those terms. Why did they not speak at all of the compacts between the Devil and witches? Why did they leave out the very essential of the witch-monger's lore? All this needed to be urged at a time when the advocates of witchcraft were crying "Wolf! wolf!" to the Christian people of England. In other words, Webster was rendering it possible for the purely orthodox to give up what Glanvill had called a bulwark of religion and still to cling to their orthodoxy. It is much to the credit of Webster that he spoke out plainly concerning the obscenity of what was extorted from the witches. No one who has not read for himself can have any notion of the vile character of the charges and confessions embodied in the witch pamphlets. It is an aspect of the question which has not been discussed in these pages. Webster states the facts without exaggeration:[41] "For the most of them are not credible, by reason of their obscenity and filthiness; for chast ears would tingle to hear such bawdy and immodest lyes; and what pure and sober minds would not nauseate and startle to understand such unclean stories ...? Surely even the impurity of it may be sufficient to overthrow the credibility of it, especially among Christians." Professor Burr has said that "it was, indeed, no small part of the evil of the matter, that it so long debauched the imagination of Christendom."[42] We have said that Webster denied the existence of witches, that is, of those who performed supernatural deeds. But, like Scot, he explicitly refrained from denying the existence of witches _in toto_. He was, in fact, much more satisfactory than Scot; for he explained just what was his residuum of belief. He believed that witches were evil-minded creatures inspired by the Devil, who by the use of poisons and natural means unknown to most men harmed and killed their fellow-beings.[43] Of course he would have insisted that a large proportion of all those charged with being such were mere dealers in fraud or the victims of false accusation, but the remainder of the cases he would have explained in this purely natural way. Now, if this was not scientific rationalism, it was at least straight-out skepticism as to the supernatural in witchcraft. Moreover there are cases enough in the annals of witchcraft that look very much as if poison were used. The drawback of course is that Webster, like Scot, had not disabused his mind of all superstition. Professor Kittredge in his discussion of Webster has pointed this out carefully. Webster believed that the bodies of those that had been murdered bleed at the touch of the murderer. He believed, too, in a sort of "astral spirit,"[44] and he seems to have been convinced of the truth of apparitions.[45] These were phenomena that he believed to be substantiated by experience. On different grounds, by _a priori_ reasoning from scriptural premises, he arrived at the conclusion that God makes use of evil angels "as the executioners of his justice to chasten the godly, and to restrain or destroy the wicked."[46] This is and was essentially a theological conception. But there was no small gap between this and the notion that spirits act in supernatural ways in our every-day world. And there was nothing more inconsistent in failing to bridge this gap than in the position of the Christian people today who believe in a spirit world and yet discredit without examination all that is offered as new evidence of its existence. The truth is that Webster was too busy at destroying the fortifications of his opponents to take the trouble to build up defences for himself. But it is not too much to call him the most effective of the seventeenth century assailants of witch persecution in England.[47] He had this advantage over all who had gone before, that a large and increasing body of intelligent people were with him. He spoke in full consciousness of strong support. It was for his opponents to assume the defensive. We have called John Webster's a great name in the literature of our subject, and we have given our reasons for so thinking. Yet it would be a mistake to suppose that he created any such sensation in his time as did his arch-opponent, Glanvill. His work never went into a second edition. There are but few references to it in the writings of the time, and those are in works devoted to the defence of the belief. Benjamin Camfield, a Leicestershire rector, wrote an unimportant book on _Angels and their Ministries_,[48] and in an appendix assailed Webster. Joseph Glanvill turned fiercely upon him with new proofs of what he called facts, and bequeathed the work at his death to Henry More, who in the several following editions of the _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ attacked him with no little bitterness. We may skip over three lesser writers on witchcraft. During the early eighties John Brinley, Henry Hallywell, and Richard Bovet launched their little boats into the sea of controversy. Brinley was a bold plagiarist of Bernard, Hallywell a logical but dull reasoner from the Bible, Bovet a weakened solution of Glanvill.[49] We turn now from the special literature of witchcraft to a sketch of the incidental evidences of opinion. Of these we have a larger body than ever before, too large indeed to handle in detail. It would be idle to quote from the chap-books on witch episodes their _raisons d'être_. It all comes to this: they were written to confute disbelievers. They refer slightingly and even bitterly to those who oppose belief, not however without admitting their numbers and influence. It will be more to our purpose to examine the opinions of men as they uttered them on the bench, in the pulpit, and in the other walks of practical life. We have already had occasion to learn what the judges were thinking. We listened to Matthew Hale while he uttered the pronouncement that was heard all over England and even in the North American colonies. The existence of witches, he affirmed solemnly, is proved by Scripture and by the universality of laws against them. Justice Rainsford in the following years and Justice Raymond about twenty years later seem to have taken Hale's view of the matter. On the other side were to be reckoned Sir John Reresby and Francis North. Neither of them was quite outspoken, fearing the rage of the people and the charge of atheism. Both sought to save the victims of persecution, but rather by exposing the deceptions of the accusers than by denying witchcraft itself. From the vast number of acquittals in the seventies and the sudden dropping off in the number of witch trials in the eighties we know that there must have been many other judges who were acquitting witches or quietly ignoring the charges against them. Doubtless Kelyng, who, as a spectator at Bury, had shown his skepticism as to the accusations, had when he later became a chief justice been one of those who refused to condemn witches. From scientific men there were few utterances. Although we shall in another connection show that a goodly number from the Royal Society cherished very definite beliefs--or disbeliefs--on the subject, we have the opinions of but two men who were professionally scientists, Sir Thomas Browne and Sir Robert Boyle. Browne we have already met at the Bury trial. It may reasonably be questioned whether he was really a man of science. Certainly he was a physician of eminence. The attitude he took when an expert witness at Bury, it will be recalled, was quite consistent with the opinion given in his _Commonplace Book_. "We are noways doubtful," he wrote, "that there are witches, but have not always been satisfied in the application of their witchcrafts."[50] So spoke the famous physician of Norwich. But a man whose opinion was of much more consequence was Sir Robert Boyle. Boyle was a chemist and "natural philosopher." He was the discoverer of the air pump, was elected president of the Royal Society, and was altogether one of the greatest non-political figures in the reign of Charles II. While he never, so far as we know, discussed witchcraft in the abstract, he fathered a French story that was brought into England, the story of the Demon of Mascon. He turned the story over to Glanvill to be used in his list of authentic narratives; and, when it was later reported that he had pronounced the demon story an imposture, he took pains to deny the report in a letter to Glanvill.[51] Of literary men we have, as of scientists, but two. Aubrey, the "delitescent" antiquarian and Will Wimble of his time, still credited witchcraft, as he credited all sorts of narratives of ghosts and apparitions. It was less a matter of reason than of sentiment. The dramatist Shadwell had the same feeling for literary values. In his preface to the play, _The Lancashire Witches_, he explained that he pictured the witches as real lest the people should want "diversion," and lest he should be called "atheistical by a prevailing party who take it ill that the power of the Devil should be lessen'd."[52] But Shadwell, although not seriously interested in any side of the subject save in its use as literary material, included himself among the group who had given up belief. What philosophers thought we may guess from the all-pervading influence of Hobbes in this generation. We have already seen, however, that Henry More,[53] whose influence in his time was not to be despised, wrote earnestly and often in support of belief. One other philosopher may be mentioned. Ralph Cudworth, in his _True Intellectual System_, touched on confederacies with the Devil and remarked in passing that "there hath been so full an attestation" of these things "that those our so confident Exploders of them, in this present Age, can hardly escape the suspicion of having some Hankring towards Atheism."[54] This was Glanvill over again. It remains to notice the opinions of clergymen. The history of witch literature has been in no small degree the record of clerical opinion. Glanvill, Casaubon, Muggleton, Camfield, and Hallywell were all clergymen. Fortunately we have the opinions of at least half a dozen other churchmen. It will be remembered that Oliver Heywood, the famous Non-Conformist preacher of Lancashire, believed, though not too implicitly, in witchcraft.[55] So did Samuel Clarke, Puritan divine and hagiographer.[56] On the same side must be reckoned Nathaniel Wanley, compiler of a curious work on _The Wonders of the Little World_.[57] A greater name was that of Isaac Barrow, master of Trinity, teacher of Isaac Newton, and one of the best preachers of his time. He declared that to suppose all witch stories fictions was to "charge the world with both extreme Vanity and Malignity."[58] We can cite only one divine on the other side. This was Samuel Parker, who in his time played many parts, but who is chiefly remembered as the Bishop of Oxford during the troubles of James II with the university. Parker was one of the most disliked ecclesiastics of his time, but he deserves praise at any rate for his stand as to witchcraft. We do not know the details of his opinions; indeed we have nothing more than the fact that in a correspondence with Glanvill he questioned the opinions of that distinguished protagonist of witchcraft.[59] By this time it must be clear that there is possible no hard and fast discrimination by groups between those that believed in witchcraft and those that did not. We may say cautiously that through the seventies and eighties the judges, and probably too the justices of the peace,[60] were coming to disbelieve. With even greater caution we may venture the assertion that the clergy, both Anglican and Non-Conformist, were still clinging to the superstition. Further generalization would be extremely hazardous. It looks, however, from the evidence already presented, as well as from some to be given in another connection--in discussing the Royal Society[61]--as if the scientists had not taken such a stand as was to be expected of them. When we examine the attitude of those who scoffed at the stories vouched for by Glanvill and More it becomes evident that they assumed that practically all thinking men were with them. In other words, they believed that their group comprised the intellectual men of the time. Now, it would be easy to rush to the conclusion that all men who thought in conventional ways would favor witchcraft, and that those who took unconventional views would be arrayed on the other side, but this would be a mistake. Glanvill was an exceedingly original man, while Muggleton was uncommonly commonplace; and there were numbered among those who held to the old opinion men of high intelligence and brilliant talents. We must search, then, for some other basis of classification. Glanvill gives us an interesting suggestion. In withering tone he speaks of the "looser gentry and lesser pretenders to wit." Here is a possible line of cleavage. Might it be that the more worldly-minded among the county families, that those too who comprised what we may call, in the absence of a better term, the "smart set," and the literary sets of London, were especially the "deriders" of superstition? It is not hard to believe that Shadwell, the worldly Bishop Parker, and the polished Sir William Temple[62] would fairly reflect the opinions of that class. So too the diarist Pepys, who found Glanvill "not very convincing." We can conceive how the ridicule of the supernatural might have become the fad of a certain social group. The Mompesson affair undoubtedly possessed elements of humor; the wild tales about Amy Duny and Rose Cullender would have been uncommonly diverting, had they not produced such tragic results. With the stories spun about Julian Cox the witch accusers could go no farther. They had reached the culmination of nonsense. Now, it is conceivable that the clergyman might not see the humor of it, nor the philosopher, nor the scholar; but the worldly-minded Londoner, who cared less about texts in Leviticus than did his father, who knew more about coffee-houses and plays, and who cultivated clever people with assiduity, had a better developed sense of humor. It was not strange that he should smile quizzically when told these weird stories from the country. He may not have pondered very deeply on the abstract question nor read widely--perhaps he had seen Ady's book or glanced over Scot's--but, when he met keen men in his group who were laughing quietly at narratives of witchcraft, he laughed too. And so, quite unobtrusively, without blare of trumpets, skepticism would slip into society. It would be useless for Glanvill and More to call aloud, or for the people to rage. The classes who mingled in the worldly life of the capital would scoff; and the country gentry who took their cue from them would follow suit. Of course this is theory. It would require a larger body of evidence than we can hope to gather on this subject to prove that the change of opinion that was surely taking place spread at first through the higher social strata and was to reach the lower levels only by slow filtration. Yet such an hypothesis fits in nicely with certain facts. It has already been seen that the trials for witchcraft dropped off very suddenly towards the end of the period we are considering. The drop was accounted for by the changed attitude of judges and of justices of the peace. The judges avoided trying witches,[63] the justices were less diligent in discovering them. But the evidence that we had about men of other occupations was less encouraging. It looked as if those who dispensed justice were in advance of the clergy, of the scholars, physicians, and scientists of their time. Had the Master of Trinity, or the physician of Norwich, or the discoverer of the air pump been the justices of the peace for England, it is not incredible that superstition would have flourished for another generation. Was it because the men of the law possessed more of the matter-of-factness supposed to be a heritage of every Englishman? Was it because their special training gave them a saner outlook? No doubt both elements help to explain the difference. But is it not possible to believe that the social grouping of these men had an influence? The itinerant justices and the justices of the peace were recruited from the gentry, as none of the other classes were. Men like Reresby and North inherited the traditions of their class; they spent part of the year in London and knew the talk of the town. Can we doubt that their decisions were influenced by that fact? The country justice of the peace was removed often enough from metropolitan influences, but he was usually quick to catch the feelings of his own class. If our theory be true that the jurists were in advance of other professions and that they were sprung of a higher stock, it is of course some confirmation of the larger theory that witchcraft was first discredited among the gentry. Yet, as we have said before, this is at best a guess as to how the decline of belief took place and must be accepted only provisionally. We have seen that there are other assertions about the progress of thought in this period that may be ventured with much confidence. There had been great changes of opinion. It would not be fair to say that the movement towards skepticism had been accelerated. Rather, the movement which had its inception back in the days of Reginald Scot and had found in the last days of James I a second impulse, which had been quietly gaining force in the thirties, forties, and fifties, was now under full headway. Common sense was coming into its own. [1] Ferris Greenslet, _Joseph Glanvill_ (New York, 1900), 153. The writer wishes to acknowledge his indebtedness to Mr. Greenslet's excellent book on Glanvill. [2] The _Scepsis Scientifica_ was really _The Vanity of Dogmatising_ (1661) recast. [3] See, for example, the introductory essay by John Owen in his edition (London, 1885), of the _Scepsis Scientifica_, xxvii, xxix. See also _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ (citations are all from the edition of 1681), 7, 13. [4] So at least says Leslie Stephen, _Dict. Nat. Biog._ Glanvill himself, in _Essays on Several Important Subjects_ (1676), says that the sixth essay, "Philosophical Considerations against Modern Sadducism," had been printed four times already, _i. e._, before 1676. The edition of 1668 had been revised. [5] This edition was dedicated to Charles, Duke of Richmond and Lenox, since His Grace had been "pleased to commend the first and more imperfect Edition." [6] _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, Preface, F 3 verso, F 4; see also p. 10. In the second part see Preface, Aa 2--Aa 3. In several other places he has insisted upon this point. [7] See _ibid._, 9 ff., 18 ff., 21 ff., 34 ff. [8] _Ibid._, 32, 34. [9] _Ibid._, 11-13. [10] See, for example, _ibid._, 88-89. [11] _Ibid._, 25-27. [12] _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, 39. [13] _Ibid._, 52-53. [14] To the argument that witches are not mentioned in the New Testament he retorted that neither is North America (_ibid._, 82). [15] _Ibid._, 78. [16] Nevertheless he took up some of Scot's points. [17] _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, Preface. [18] _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 3. [19] See _ibid._, pt. ii, Relation VIII. [20] _Scepsis Scientifica_ (ed. of 1885), 179. [21] London, 1668. It was reprinted in 1672 with the title _A Treatise proving Spirits, Witches, and Supernatural Operations by pregnant instances and evidences_. [22] See above, pp. 239-240. [23] _Of Credulity and Incredulity_, 29, 30. [24] He characterizes Reginald Scot as an illiterate wretch, but admits that he had never read him. It was Wierus whom he chiefly sought to confute. [25] He was given also to "strong and high tasted liquors." Anthony à Wood, _Athenae Oxonienses_ (London, 1691-1692; 3d ed., with additions, London, 1813-1820), ed. of 1813-1820, III, 11-14. [26] _The Question of Witchcraft Debated_ (London, 1669), 64. [27] 1670 (see above, p. 293). [28] _The Opinion of Witchcraft Vindicated. In an Answer to a Book Intituled The Question of Witchcraft Debated_ (London, 1670). [29] _A True Interpretation of the Witch of Endor_ (London, 1669). [30] "By a Pen neer the Convent of Eluthery." [31] London, 1676. [32] To Professor Burr I owe my knowledge of this ascription. The translator (the English Quaker, William Sewel, all his life a resident of Holland), calls him "N. Orchard, Predikant in Nieuw-Engeland." [33] See _Doctrine of Devils_, chaps. VII, VIII, and _cf._ Scot, _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 512-514. [34] Glanvill had answered a somewhat similar argument, that the miracles of the Bible were wrought by the agency of the Devil. [35] He said also that, if the Devil could take on "men's shapes, forms, habits, countenances, tones, gates, statures, ages, complexions ... and act in the shape assumed," there could be absolutely no certainty about the proceedings of justice. [36] The book had been written four years earlier. [37] See G. L. Kittredge, "Notes on Witchcraft," in American Antiquarian Soc., _Proceedings_, n. s., XVIII (1906-1907), 169-176. [38] There is, however, no little brilliance and insight in some of Webster's reasoning. [39] _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 38-41. [40] _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 53. [41] _Ibid._, 68. [42] _The Witch-Persecutions_ (University of Pennsylvania Translations and Reprints, vol. III, no. 4), revised ed. (Philadelphia, 1903), p. 1. [43] _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 247-248. [44] _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 308, 312 ff. The astral spirit which he conceived was not unlike More's and Glanvill's "thin and tenuous substance." [45] _Ibid._, 294 ff. [46] _Ibid._, 219-228. [47] The author of _The Doctrine of Devils_ (see above, note 32), was thorough-going enough, but his work seems to have attracted much less attention. [48] London, 1678. [49] John Brinley, "Gentleman," brought out in 1680 _A Discovery of the Impostures of Witches and Astrologers_. Portions of his book would pass for good thinking until one awakens to the feeling that he has read something like this before. As a matter of fact Brinley had stolen the line of thought and much of the phrasing from Richard Bernard (1627, see above, pp. 234-236), and without giving any credit. A second edition of Brinley's work was issued in 1686. It was the same in every respect save that the dedication was omitted and the title changed to _A Discourse Proving by Scripture and Reason and the Best Authors Ancient and Modern that there are Witches_. Henry Hallywell, a Cambridge master of arts and sometime fellow of Christ's College, issued in 1681 _Melampronoea, or a Discourse of the Polity and Kingdom of Darkness, Together with a Solution of the chiefest Objections brought against the Being of Witches_. Hallywell was another in the long list of Cambridge men who defended superstition. He set about to assail the "over-confident Exploders of Immaterial Substances" by a course of logical deductions from Scripture. His treatise is slow reading. Richard Bovet, "Gentleman," gave the world in 1684 _Pandæmonium, or the Devil's Cloyster; being a further Blow to Modern Sadduceism_. There was nothing new about his discussion, which he dedicates to Dr. Henry More. His attitude was defensive in the extreme. He was consumed with indignation at disbelievers: "They oppose their simple _ipse dixit_ against the most unquestionable Testimonies"; they even dare to "affront that relation of the Dæmon of Tedworth." He was indeed cast down over the situation. He himself relates a very patent instance of witchcraft in Somerset; yet, despite the fact that numerous physicians agreed on the matter, no "justice was applyed." One of Bovet's chief purposes in his work was to show "the Confederacy of several Popes and Roman Priests with the Devil." He makes one important admission in regard to witchcraft; namely, that the confessions of witches might sometimes be the result of "a Deep Melancholy, or some Terrour that they may have been under." [50] _Works_, ed. of 1835-1836, IV, 389. [51] For Boyle's opinions see also Webster, _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 248. [52] He says also: "For my part I am ... somewhat cotive of belief. The evidences I have represented are natural, viz., slight, and frivolous, such as poor old women were wont to be hang'd upon." The play may be found in all editions of Shadwell's works. I have used the rare privately printed volume in which, under the title of _The Poetry of Witchcraft_ (Brixton Hill, 1853), J. O. Halliwell [-Phillips] united this play of Shadwell's with that of Heywood and Brome on _The late Lancashire Witches_. These two plays, so similar in title, that of Heywood and Brome in 1634, based on the case of 1633, and that of Shadwell in 1682, based on the affair of 1612, must not be confused. See above pp. 121, 158-160, 244-245. [53] See above, pp. 238-239. [54] _The True Intellectual System of the Universe_ (London, 1678), 702. [55] See above, p. 256 and note. [56] See his _Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons_ (London, 1683), 172; also his _Mirrour or Looking Glass, Both for Saints and Sinners_ (London, 1657-1671), I, 35-38; II, 159-183. [57] London, 1678; see pp. 515-518. [58] _Works_ (ed. of Edinburgh, 1841), II, 162. [59] Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, 80. [60] By the eighties it is very clear that the justices were ceasing to press charges against witches. [61] In an article to be published separately. [62] See his essay "Of Poetry" in his _Works_ (London, 1814), III, 430-431. [63] Justice Jeffreys and Justice Herbert both acquitted witches according to F. A. Inderwick, _Sidelights on the Stuarts_ (2d ed., London, 1891), 174. CHAPTER XIII. THE FINAL DECLINE. In the history of witchcraft the years from 1688 to 1718 may be grouped together as comprising a period. This is not to say that the year of the Revolution marked any transition in the course of the superstition. It did not. But we have ventured to employ it as a convenient date with which to bound the influences of the Restoration. The year 1718 derives its importance for us from the publication, in that year, of Francis Hutchinson's _Historical Essay on Witchcraft_, a book which, it is not too much to say, gave the final blow to the belief in England.[1] We speak of fixing a date by which to bound the influences of the Restoration. Now, as a matter of fact, there is something arbitrary about any date. The influences at work during the previous period went steadily on. The heathen raged, and the people imagined a vain thing. The great proletariat hated witches as much as ever. But the justices of the peace and the itinerant judges were getting over their fear of popular opinion and were refusing to listen to the accusations that were brought before them. The situation was in some respects the same as it had been in the later seventies and throughout the eighties. Yet there were certain features that distinguished the period. One of them was the increased use of exorcism. The expelling of evil spirits had been a subject of great controversy almost a century before. The practice had by no means been forgotten in the mean time, but it had gained little public notice. Now the dispossessors of the Devil came to the front again long enough to whet the animosity between Puritans and Anglicans in Lancashire. But this never became more than a pamphlet controversy. The other feature of the period was far more significant. The last executions for witchcraft in England were probably those at Exeter in 1682.[2] For a whole generation the courts had been frowning on witch prosecution. Now there arose in England judges who definitely nullified the law on the statute-book. By the decisions of Powell and Parker, and most of all by those of Holt, the statute of the first year of James I was practically made obsolete twenty-five or fifty years before its actual repeal in 1736. We shall see that the gradual breaking down of the law by the judges did not take place without a struggle. At the famous trial in Hertford in 1712 the whole subject of the Devil and his relation to witches came up again in its most definite form, and was fought out in the court room and at the bar of public opinion. It was, however, but the last rallying and counter-charging on a battle-field where Webster and Glanvill had led the hosts at mid-day. The issue, indeed, was now very specific. Over the abstract question of witchcraft there was nothing new to be said. Here, however, was a specific instance. What was to be done with it? Over that there was waged a merry war. Of course the conclusion was foregone. It had indeed been anticipated by the action of the bench. We shall see that with the nullification of the law the common people began to take the law into their own hands. We shall note that, as a consequence, there was an increase in the number of swimming ordeals and other illegal procedures. The story of the Lancashire demonomania is not unlike the story of William Somers in Nottingham a century before. In this case there was no John Darrel, and the exorcists were probably honest but deluded men. The affair started at the village of Surey, near to the superstition-brewing Pendle Forest. The possessed boy, Richard Dugdale, was a gardener and servant about nineteen years of age.[3] In April, 1689, he was seized with fits in which he was asserted to speak Latin and Greek and to preach against the sins of the place. Whatever his pretensions were, he seemed a good subject for exorcism. Some of the Catholics are said to have tampered with him, and then several Puritan clergymen of the community took him in hand. For eight months they held weekly fasts for his recovery; but their efforts were not so successful as they had hoped. They began to suspect witchcraft[4] and were about to take steps towards the prosecution of the party suspected.[5] This came to nothing, but Dugdale at length grew better. He was relieved of his fits; and the clergymen, who had never entirely given up their efforts to cure him, hastened to claim the credit. More than a dozen of the dissenting preachers, among them Richard Frankland, Oliver Heywood,[6] and other well known Puritan leaders in northern England, had lent their support to Thomas Jollie, who had taken the leading part in the praying and fasting. From London, Richard Baxter, perhaps the best known Puritan of his time, had sent a request for some account of the wonder, in order to insert it in his forthcoming book on the spirit world. This led to a plan for printing a complete narrative of what had happened; but the plan was allowed to lapse with the death of Baxter.[7] Meantime, however, the publication in London of the Mathers' accounts of the New England trials of 1692[8] caused a new call for the story of Richard Dugdale. It was prepared and sent to London; and there in some mysterious way the manuscript was lost.[9] It was, however, rewritten and appeared in 1697 as _The Surey Demoniack, or an Account of Strange and Dreadful Actings in and about the Body of Richard Dugdale_. The preface was signed by six ministers, including those already named; but the book was probably written by Thomas Jollie and John Carrington.[10] The reality of the possession was attested by depositions taken before two Lancashire justices of the peace. The aim of the work was, of course, to add one more contemporary link to the chain of evidence for the supernatural. It was clear to the divines who strove with the possessed boy that his case was of exactly the same sort as those in the New Testament. Moreover, his recovery was a proof of the power of prayer. Now Non-Conformity was strong in Lancashire, and the Anglican church as well as the government had for many years been at no little pains to put it down. Here was a chance to strike the Puritans at one of their weakest spots, and the Church of England was not slow to use its opportunity. Zachary Taylor, rector of Wigan and chaplain to the Bishop of Chester, had already familiarized himself with the methods of the exorcists. In the previous year he had attacked the Catholics of Lancashire for an exorcism which they claimed to have accomplished within his parish.[11] Pleased with his new rôle, he found in Thomas Jollie a sheep ready for the shearing.[12] He hastened to publish _The Surey Impostor_,[13] in which, with a very good will, he made an assault upon the reality of Dugdale's fits, charged that he had been pre-instructed by the Catholics, and that the Non-Conformist clergymen were seeking a rich harvest from the miracles they should work. Self-glorification was their aim. He made fun of the several divines engaged in the affair, and accused them of trickery and presumption in their conduct of the case.[14] Of course Taylor was answered, and with a bitterness equal to his own. Thomas Jollie replied in _A Vindication of the Surey Demoniack_. "I will not foul my Paper," wrote the mild Jollie, "and offend my reader with those scurrilous and ridiculous Passages in this Page. O, the Eructations of an exulcerated Heart! How desperately wicked is the Heart of Man!"[15] We shall not go into the details of the controversy, which really degenerated into a sectarian squabble.[16] The only discussion of the subject that approached fairness was by an anonymous writer,[17] who professed himself impartial and of a different religious persuasion from Jollie. To be sure, he was a man who believed in possession by spirits. It may be questioned, too, whether his assumption of fair dealing towards the Church of England was altogether justified. But, at any rate, his work was free from invective and displayed moderation. He felt that the Dissenting clergymen were probably somewhat deluded. But they had acted, he believed, under good motives in attempting to help one who had appealed to them. Some of them were not only "serious good Men," but men well known in the nation. This, indeed, was true. The Dissenters had laid themselves open to attack, and doubtless some of them saw and regretted their mistake. At least, it seems not without significance that neither Oliver Heywood nor Richard Frankland nor any other of the Dissenters was sure enough of his ground to support Jollie in the controversy into which he had been led.[18] We have gone into some detail about the Dugdale affair because of its importance in its time, and because it was so essentially characteristic of the last era of the struggle over the power of the Devil. There were cases of possession not only in Lancashire but in Somersetshire and in and around London. Not without a struggle was His Satanic Majesty surrendering his hold. We turn from this controversy to follow the decisions of those eminent judges who were nullifying the statute against witches. We have already mentioned three names, those of Holt, Powell, and Parker. This is not because they were the only jurists who were giving verdicts of acquittal--we know that there must have been others--but because their names are linked with significant decisions. Without doubt Chief Justice Holt did more than any other man in English history to end the prosecution of witches. Justice Powell was not so brave a man, but he happened to preside over one of the most bitterly contested of all trials, and his verdict served to reaffirm the precedents set by Holt. It was Justice Parker's fortune to try the last case of witchcraft in England. Holt became chief justice of the king's bench on the accession of William and Mary. Not one of the great names in English judicial rolls, his decided stand against superstition makes him great in the history of witchcraft. Where and when he had acquired his skeptical attitude we do not know. The time was past when such an attitude was unusual. In any case, from the moment he assumed the chief justiceship he set himself directly against the punishment of witchcraft. As premier of the English judiciary his example meant quite as much as his own rulings. And their cumulative effect was not slight. We know of no less than eleven trials where as presiding officer he was instrumental in securing a verdict of acquittal. In London, at Ipswich, at Bury, at Exeter, in Cornwall, and in other parts of the realm, these verdicts were rendered, and they could not fail to influence opinion and to affect the decisions of other judges. Three of the trials we shall go over briefly--those at Bury, Exeter, and Southwark. In 1694 he tried Mother Munnings at Bury St. Edmunds,[19] where his great predecessor Hale had condemned two women. Mother Munnings had declared that a landlord should lie nose upward in the church-yard before the next Saturday, and, sure enough, her prophecy had come true. Nevertheless, in spite of this and other testimony, she was acquitted. Two years later Holt tried Elizabeth Horner at Exeter, where Raymond had condemned three women in 1682. Bishop Trelawny of Exeter had sent his sub-dean, Launcelot Blackburne (later to be Archbishop of York), to look into the case, and his report adds something to the account which Hutchinson has given us.[20] Elizabeth was seen "three nights together upon a large down in the same place, as if rising out of the ground." It was certified against her by a witness that she had driven a red-hot nail "into the witche's left foot-step, upon which she went lame, and, being search'd, her leg and foot appear'd to be red and fiery." These testimonies were the "most material against her," as well as the evidence of the mother of some possessed children, who declared that her daughter had walked up a wall nine feet high four or five times backwards and forwards, her face and the fore part of her body parallel to the ceiling, saying that Betty Horner carried her up. In closing the narrative the archdeacon wrote without comment: "My Lord Chief Justice by his questions and manner of hemming up the evidence seem'd to me to believe nothing of witchery at all, and to disbelieve the fact of walking up the wall which was sworn by the mother." He added, "the jury brought her in not guilty." The case of Sarah Moordike of London _versus_ Richard Hathaway[21] makes even clearer the attitude of Holt. Sarah Moordike, or Morduck, had been accused years before by a Richard Hathaway of causing his illness. On several occasions he had scratched her. Persecuted by the rabble, she had betaken herself from Southwark to London. Thither Richard Hathaway followed her and soon had several churches praying for his recovery. She had appealed to a magistrate for protection, had been refused, and had been tried at the assizes in Guildford, where she was acquitted. By this time, however, a good many people had begun to think Hathaway a cheat. He was arrested and put under the care of a surgeon, who watched him closely and soon discovered that the fasts which were a feature of his pretended fits were false. This was not the first time that he had been proved an impostor. On an earlier occasion he had been trapped into scratching a woman whom he erroneously supposed to be Sarah Morduck. In spite of all exposures, however, he stuck to his pretended fits and was at length brought before the assizes at Southwark on the charge of attempting to take away the life of Sarah Moordike for being a witch. It is refreshing to know that a clergyman, Dr. Martin, had espoused the cause of the witch and had aided in bringing Hathaway to judgment. Chief Justice Holt and Baron Hatsell presided over the court,[22] and there seems to have been no doubt about the outcome. The jury "without going from the bar" brought Hathaway in guilty.[23] The verdict was significant. Pretenders had got themselves into trouble before, but were soon out. The Boy of Bilston had been reproved; the young Robinson, who would have sent to the gallows a dozen fellow-creatures, thought it hard that he was kept a few months confined in London.[24] A series of cases in the reign of Charles I had shown that it was next to impossible to recover damages for being slandered as a witch, though in the time of the Commonwealth one woman had come out of a suit with five shillings to her credit. Of course, when a man of distinction was slandered, circumstances were altered. At some time very close to the trial of Hathaway, Elizabeth Hole of Derbyshire was summoned to the assizes for accusing Sir Henry Hemloke, a well known baronet, of witchcraft.[25] Such a charge against a man of position was a serious matter. But the Moordike-Hathaway case was on a plane entirely different from any of these cases. Sarah Morduck was not a woman of position, yet her accuser was punished, probably by a long imprisonment. It was a precedent that would be a greater safeguard to supposed witches than many acquittals. Justice Powell was not to wield the authority of Holt: yet he made one decision the effects of which were far-reaching. It was in the trial of Jane Wenham at Hertford in 1712. The trial of this woman was in a sense her own doing. She was a widow who had done washing by the day. For a long time she had been suspected of witchcraft by a neighboring farmer, so much so that, when a servant of his began to act queerly, he at once laid the blame on the widow. Jane applied to Sir Henry Chauncy, justice of the peace, for a warrant against her accuser. He was let off with a fine of a shilling, and she was instructed by Mr. Gardiner, the clergyman, to live more peaceably.[26] So ended the first act. In the next scene of this dramatic case a female servant of the Reverend Mr. Gardiner's, a maid just getting well of a broken knee, was discovered alone in a room undressed "to her shift" and holding a bundle of sticks. When asked to account for her condition by Mrs. Gardiner, she had a curious story to tell. "When she was left alone she found a strange Roaming in her head, ... her Mind ran upon Jane Wenham and she thought she must run some whither ... she climbed over a Five-Bar-Gate, and ran along the Highway up a Hill ... as far as a Place called Hackney-Lane, where she look'd behind her, and saw a little Old Woman Muffled in a Riding-hood." This dame had asked whither she was going, had told her to pluck some sticks from an oak tree, had bade her bundle them in her gown, and, last and most wonderful, had given her a large crooked pin.[27] Mrs. Gardiner, so the account goes, took the sticks and threw them into the fire. Presto! Jane Wenham came into the room, pretending an errand. It was afterwards found out that the errand was fictitious. All this raised a stir. The tale was absolutely original, it was no less remarkable. A maid with a broken knee had run a half-mile and back in seven minutes, very good time considering the circumstances. On the next day the maid, despite the knee and the fits she had meantime contracted, was sent out on an errand. She met Jane Wenham and that woman quite properly berated her for the stories she had set going, whereupon the maid's fits were worse than ever. Then, while several people carefully watched her, she repeated her former long distance run, leaping over a five-bar gate "as nimbly as a greyhound." Jane Wenham was now imprisoned by the justice of the peace, who collected with all speed the evidence against her. In this he was aided by the Reverend Francis Bragge, rector of Walkerne, and the Reverend Mr. Strutt, vicar of Audley. The wretched woman asked the justice to let her submit to the ordeal of water,[28] but he refused, pronouncing it illegal and unjustifiable. Meantime, the Rev. Mr. Strutt used the test of the Lord's Prayer,[29] a test that had been discarded for half a century. She failed to say the prayer aright, and alleged in excuse that "she was much disturbed in her head," as well she might be. But other evidence came in against her rapidly. She had been caught stealing turnips, and had quite submissively begged pardon, saying that she had no victuals that day and no money to buy any.[30] On the very next day the man who gave this evidence had lost one of his sheep and found another "taken strangely, skipping and standing upon its head."[31] There were other equally silly scraps of testimony. We need not go into them. The two officious clergymen busied themselves with her until one of them was able to wring some sort of a confession from her. It was a narrative in which she tried to account for the strange conduct of Anne Thorne and made a failure of it.[32] A few days later, in the presence of three clergymen and a justice of the peace, she was urged to repeat her confession but was "full of Equivocations and Evasions," and when pressed told her examiners that they "lay in wait for her Life." Bragge and Strutt had shown a great deal of energy in collecting evidence. Yet, when the case came to trial, the woman was accused only of dealing with a spirit in the shape of a cat.[33] This was done on the advice of a lawyer. Unfortunately we have no details about his reasons, but it would look very much as if the lawyer recognized that the testimony collected by the ministers would no longer influence the court, and believed that the one charge of using a cat as a spirit might be substantiated. The assizes were largely attended. "So vast a number of People," writes an eye-witness, "have not been together at the Assizes in the memory of Man."[34] Besides the evidence brought in by the justice of the peace, who led the prosecution with vigor, the Rev. Mr. Bragge, who was not to be repressed because the charges had been limited, gave some most remarkable testimony about the stuffing of Anne Thorne's pillow. It was full of cakes of small feathers fastened together with some viscous matter resembling much the "ointment made of dead men's flesh" mentioned by Mr. Glanvill. Bragge had done a piece of research upon the stuff and discovered that the particles were arranged in geometrical forms with equal numbers in each part.[35] Justice Powell called for the pillow, but had to be content with the witness's word, for the pillow had been burnt. Arthur Chauncy, who was probably a relative of the justice of the peace, offered to show the judge pins taken from Anne Thorne. It was needless, replied the judge, he supposed they were crooked pins.[36] The leaders of the prosecution seem to have felt that the judge was sneering at them throughout the trial. When Anne Thorne was in a fit, and the Reverend Mr. Chishull, being permitted to pray over her, read the office for the visitation of the sick, Justice Powell mockingly commented "That he had heard there were Forms of Exorcism in the Romish Liturgy, but knew not that we had any in our Church."[37] It must have been a great disappointment to these Anglican clergymen that Powell took the case so lightly. When it was testified against the accused that she was accustomed to fly, Powell is said to have said to her, "You may, there is no law against flying."[38] This indeed is quite in keeping with the man as described by Swift: "an old fellow with grey hairs, who was the merriest old gentleman I ever saw, spoke pleasing things, and chuckled till he cried again." In spite of Powell's obvious opinion on the trial, he could not hinder a conviction. No doubt the jury were greatly swayed by the crowds. The judge seems to have gone through the form of condemning the woman, but took pains to see that she was reprieved.[39] In the mean time her affair, like that of Richard Dugdale, had become a matter of sectarian quarrel. It was stated by the enemies of Jane Wenham that she was supported in prison by the Dissenters,[40] although they said that up to this time she had never been a church-going woman. It was the Dugdale case over again, save that the parties were reversed. Then Puritans had been arrayed on the side of superstition; now some of the Anglicans seem to have espoused that cause.[41] Of course the stir produced was greater. Mistress Jane found herself "the discourse of the town" in London, and a pamphlet controversy ensued that was quite as heated as that between Thomas Jollie and Zachary Taylor. No less than ten brochures were issued. The justice of the peace allowed his story of the case to be published and the Reverend Mr. Bragge rushed into print with a book that went through five editions. Needless to say, the defenders of Jane Wenham and of the judge who released her were not hesitant in replying. A physician who did not sign his name directed crushing ridicule against the whole affair,[42] while a defender of Justice Powell considered the case in a mild-mannered fashion: he did not deny the possibility of witchcraft, but made a keen impeachment of the trustworthiness of the witnesses against the woman.[43] But we cannot linger over the details of this controversy. Justice Powell had stirred up a hornets' nest of opposition, but it meant little.[44] The insects could buzz; but their stingers were drawn. The last trial for witchcraft was conducted in 1717 at Leicester by Justice Parker.[45] Curiously enough, the circumstances connected with it make it evident that crudest forms of superstition were still alive. Decency forbids that we should narrate the details of the methods used to demonstrate the guilt of the suspected parties. No less than twenty-five people banded themselves against "Old woman Norton and daughter" and put them through tests of the most approved character. It need hardly be said that the swimming ordeal was tried and that both creatures "swam like a cork." The persecutors then set to work to "fetch blood of the witches." In this they had "good success," but the witches "would be so stubborn, that they were often forced to call the constable to bring assistance of a number of persons to hold them by force to be blooded."[46] The "old witch" was also stripped and searched "publickly before a great number of good women." The most brutal and illegal of all forms of witch procedure had been revived, as if to celebrate the last appearance of the Devil. But the rest of the story is pleasanter. When the case came before the grand jury at the assizes, over which Justice Parker was presiding, "the bill was not found." With this the story of English trials comes to an end. The statute of James I had been practically quashed, and, though it was not to be taken from the law books for nineteen years, it now meant nothing. It was very hard for the great common people to realize what had happened. As the law was breaking down they had shown an increasing tendency to take justice into their own hands. In the case with which we have just been dealing we have seen the accusers infringing the personal rights of the individual, and calling in the constables to help them in their utterly unlawful performances. This was not new. As early as 1691, if Hutchinson may be trusted, there were "several tried by swimming in Suffolk, Essex, Cambridgeshire, and Northamptonshire and some were drowned." It would be easy to add other and later accounts,[47] but we must be content with one.[48] The widow Coman, in Essex, had recently lost her husband; and her pastor, the Reverend Mr. Boys, went to cheer her in her melancholy. Because he had heard her accounted a witch he questioned her closely and received a nonchalant admission of relations with the Devil. That astounded him. When he sought to inquire more closely, he was put off. "Butter is eight pence a pound and Cheese a groat a pound," murmured the woman, and the clergyman left in bewilderment. But he came back in the afternoon, and she raved so wildly that he concluded her confession was but "a distraction in her head." Two women, however, worried from her further and more startling confessions. The minister returned, bringing with him "Mr. Goldsmith and Mr. Grimes," two of the disbelieving "sparks of the age." The rest of the story may be told as it is given in another account, a diary of the time. "July 3d, 1699, the widow Coman was put into the river to see if she would sinke, ... and she did not sinke but swim, ... and she was tryed again July 19, and then she swam again. July 24 the widow was tryed a third time by putting her into the river and she swam. December 27. The widow Coman that was counted a witch was buried." The intervening links need hardly be supplied, but the Reverend Mr. Boys has given them: "whether by the cold she got in the water, or by some other means, she fell very ill and dyed." It must have been very diverting, this experimentation by water, and it had become so popular by the beginning of the eighteenth century that Chief Justice Holt[49] is said to have ruled that in the future, where swimming had fatal results, those responsible would be prosecuted for murder. Such a declaration perhaps caused some disuse of the method for a time, but it was revived in the second third of the eighteenth century. Popular feeling still arrayed itself against the witch. If the increasing use of the swimming ordeal was the answer to the non-enforcement of the Jacobean statute, it was the answer of the ignorant classes. Their influence was bound to diminish. But another possible consequence of the breaking down of the law may be suggested. Mr. Inderwick, who has looked much into English witchcraft, says that "from 1686 to 1712 ... the charges and convictions of malicious injury to property in burning haystacks, barns, and houses, and malicious injuries to persons and to cattle increased enormously."[50] This is very interesting, if true, and it seems quite in accord with the history of witchcraft that it should be true. Again and again we have seen that the charge of witchcraft was a weapon of prosecutors who could not prove other suspected crimes. As the charges of witchcraft fell off, accusations for other crimes would naturally be multiplied; and, now that it was no longer easy to lay everything to the witch of a community, the number of the accused would also grow. We are now at the end of the witch trials. In another chapter we shall trace the history of opinion through this last period. With the dismissal of the Norton women at Leicester, the courts were through with witch trials. [1] See below, pp. 342-343. [2] We are assuming that the cases at Northampton in 1705 and at Huntingdon in 1716 have no basis of fact. At Northampton two women, according to the pamphlet account, had been hanged and burnt; at Huntingdon, according to another account, a woman and her daughter. It is possible that these pamphlets deal with historical events; but the probabilities are all against that supposition. For a discussion of the matter in detail see below, appendix A, § 10. [3] For his early history see _The Surey Demoniack, ... or, an Account of Satan's ... Actings, In and about the Body of Richard Dugdale...._ (London, 1697). [4] The Catholics do not seem, so far as the account goes, to have said anything about witchcraft. [5] _The Surey Demoniack_, 49; Zachary Taylor, _The Surey Impostor, being an answer to a ... Pamphlet, Entituled The Surey Demoniack_ (London, 1697), 21-22. [6] "N. N.," _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked, or a Vindication of the Dissenters from Popery...._ (London, 1698), 3-4; see also the preface of _The Surey Demoniack_. [7] _Ibid._ [8] _The Wonders of the Invisible World: being an Account of the Tryals of ... Witches ... in New England_ (London, 1693), by Cotton Mather, and _A Further Account of the Tryals of the New-England Witches_ (London, 1693), by Increase Mather. See preface to _The Surey Demoniack_. [9] Thomas Jollie told a curious tale about how the manuscript had been forcibly taken from the man who was carrying it to the press by a group of armed men on the Strand. See _ibid._ [10] Alexander Gordon in his article on Thomas Jollie, _Dict. Nat. Biog._, says that the pamphlet was drafted by Jollie and expanded by Carrington. Zachary Taylor, in his answer to it (_The Surey Impostor_), constantly names Mr. Carrington as the author. "N. N.," in _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked_, also assumes that Carrington was the author. [11] _The Devil Turned Casuist, or the Cheats of Rome Laid open in the Exorcism of a Despairing Devil...._ By Zachary Taylor, ... (London, 1696). [12] It is interesting that Zachary Taylor's father was a Non-Conformist; see _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked_, 2. [13] London, 1697. [14] _The Devil Turned Casuist._ [15] _A Vindication of the Surey Demoniack_, 17. [16] Taylor replied to Jollie's _Vindication of the Surey Demoniack_ in 1698 with a pamphlet entitled _Popery, Superstition, Ignorance and Knavery ... very fully proved ... in the Surey Imposture_. Then came _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked_, by the unknown writer, "N. N.," whose views we give in the text. Taylor seems to have answered in a letter to "N. N." which called forth a scathing reply (1698) in _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked, or a Farther Vindication of the Dissenters...._ Taylor's reply, which came out in 1699, was entitled _Popery, Superstition, Ignorance, and Knavery Confess'd and fully Proved on the Surey Dissenters...._ [17] "N. N." _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked_. The Rev. Alexander Gordon, in his article on Zachary Taylor, _Dict. Nat. Biog._, says that Carrington probably wrote this book. This seems impossible. The author of the book, in speaking of Mr. Jollie, Mr. R. Fr. [Frankland], and Mr. O. H. [Oliver Heywood], refers to Mr. C. as having "exposed himself in so many insignificant Fopperies foisted into his Narrative"--proof enough that Carrington did not write _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked_. [18] Several dissenting clergymen had opposed the publication of _The Surey Demoniack_, and had sought to have it suppressed. See _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked_, 2. [19] For an account of this case see Francis Hutchinson, _Historical Essay on Witchcraft_ (London, 1718), 43. Hutchinson had made an investigation of the case when in Bury, and he had also Holt's notes of the trial. [20] Hutchinson had Holt's notes on this case, as on the preceding; _ibid._, 45. Blackburne's letter is printed in _Notes and Queries_, 1st series, XI, 498-499, and reprinted in Brand, _Popular Antiquities_ (1905), II, 648-649. [21] See _The Tryal of Richard Hathaway, ... For endeavouring to take away the Life of Sarah Morduck, For being a Witch ..._ (London, 1702), and _A Full and True Account of the Apprehending and Taking of Mrs. Sarah Moordike, ... accused ... for having Bewitched one Richard Hetheway ..._; see also Hutchinson, _op. cit._, 224-228. [22] _Ibid._, 226. [23] A somewhat similar case at Hammersmith met with the same treatment, if the pamphlet account may be trusted. Susanna Fowles pretended to be possessed in such a way that she could not use the name of God or Christ. The application of a red-hot iron to her head in the midst of her fits was drastic but effectual. She cried out "Oh Lord," and so proved herself a "notorious Lyar." She was sent to the house of correction, where, reports the unfeeling pamphleteer, "She is now beating hemp." Another pamphlet, however, gives a very different version. According to this account, Susan, under Papist influences, pretended to be possessed in such a way that she was continually blaspheming. She was indicted for blasphemy, fined, and sentenced to stand in the pillory. (For the graphic titles of these contradictory pamphlets and of a folio broadside on the same subject, see appendix A, § 7). [24] Probably not by any court verdict, but through the privy council. [25] See J. C. Cox, _Three Centuries of Derbyshire Annals_ (London, 1890), II, 90. [26] _Jane Wenham_ (broadside); see also _A Full and Impartial Account of the Discovery of Sorcery and Witchcraft, Practis'd by Jane Wenham ..._ (London, 1712). [27] This narrative is given in great detail in _A Full and Impartial Account_. It is of course referred to in nearly all the other pamphlets. [28] Jane Wenham (broadside) see also _A Full and Impartial Account_, 12. [29] Jane Wenham (broadside); see also _A Full and Impartial Account_, 10. [30] Jane Wenham (broadside); see also _A Full and Impartial Account_, 14. [31] _Ibid._, 14. [32] It was suggested by some who did not believe Jane guilty, that she confessed from unhappiness and a desire to be out of the world, _Witchcraft Farther Display'd. Containing (I) An Account of the Witchcraft practis'd by Jane Wenham, ... An Answer to ... Objections against the Being and Power of Witches ..._ (London, 1712), 37. [33] _A Full and Impartial Account_, 24. [34] _An Account of the Tryal, Examination and Condemnation of Jane Wenham._ [35] _A Full and Impartial Account_, 27. [36] _A Full and Impartial Account_, 26. [37] _Ibid._, 25. [38] For this story I have found no contemporary testimony. The earliest source that I can find is Alexander Chalmers's _Biographical Dictionary_ (London, 1812-1827), XXV, 248 (_s. v._ Powell). [39] After her release she was taken under the protection of Colonel Plummer of Gilston, who had followed the trial. Hutchinson, _Historical Essay on Witchcraft_, 130. On his death she was supported by the Earl and Countess of Cowper, and lived until 1730. Robert Clutterbuck, _History and Antiquities of the County of Hertford_ (London, 1815-1827), II, 461, note. [40] _Witchcraft Farther Displayed_, introduction. [41] See the dedication to Justice Powell in _The Case of the Hertfordshire Witchcraft Consider'd_ (London, 1712). [42] _A Full Confutation of Witchcraft: More particularly of the Depositions against Jane Wenham.... In a Letter from a Physician in Hertfordshire, to his Friend in London_ (London, 1712). [43] _The Case of the Hertfordshire Witchcraft Consider'd._ For more as to these discussions see below, ch. XIV. [44] It seems, however, that the efforts of Lady Frances ---- to bring about Jane's execution in spite of the judge were feared by Jane's friends. See _The Impossibility of Witchcraft, ... In which the Depositions against Jane Wenham ... are Confuted ..._ (London, 1712), 2d ed. (in the Bodleian), 36. [45] See Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 35,838, f. 404. [46] They could "get no blood of them by Scratching so they used great pins and such Instruments for that purpose." [47] See _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, I, 160; see also C. J. Bilson, _County Folk Lore, Leicestershire and Rutland_ (Folk Lore Soc., 1895), 51-52. [48] _The Case of Witchcraft at Coggeshall, Essex, in the year 1699. Being the narrative of the Rev. J. Boys ..._ (London, 1901). [49] By some Parker is given the credit. I cannot find the original authority. [50] Inderwick, _Sidelights on the Stuarts_, 174, 175. CHAPTER XIV. THE CLOSE OF THE LITERARY CONTROVERSY. In the last chapter we mentioned the controversy over Jane Wenham. In attempting in this chapter to show the currents and cross-currents of opinion during the last period of witch history in England, we cannot omit some account of the pamphlet war over the Hertfordshire witch. It will not be worth while, however, to take up in detail the arguments of the upholders of the superstition. The Rev. Mr. Bragge was clearly on the defensive. There were, he admitted sadly, "several gentlemen who would not believe that there are any witches since the time of our Saviour Jesus Christ." He struck the same note when he spoke of those who disbelieved "on the prejudices of education only." With great satisfaction the clergyman quoted the decision of Sir Matthew Hale in 1664.[1] The opinions of the opposition are more entertaining, if their works did not have so wide a sale. The physician who wrote to his friend in London poked fun at the witchmongers. It was dangerous to do so, he admitted, "especially in the Country, where to make the least Doubt is a Badge of Infidelity."[2] As for him, he envied the privileges of the town. He proceeded to take up the case of Anne Thorne. Her seven-minute mile run with a broken knee was certainly puzzling. "If it was only a violent Extention of the Rotula, something might be allow'd: but it is hard to tell what this was, your Country Bone-Setters seldom plaguing their heads with Distinctions."[3] The "Viciousness of Anne Thorn's opticks,"[4] the silly character of the clergyman's evidence, and the spiritual juggles at exorcism,[5] all these things roused his merriment. As for Jane's confession, it was the result of ensnaring questions.[6] He seemed to hold the clergy particularly responsible for witch cases and advised them to be more conversant with the history of diseases and to inquire more narrowly into the physical causes of things. A defender of Justice Powell, probably Henry Stebbing, later an eminent divine but now a young Cambridge master of arts, entered the controversy. He was not altogether a skeptic about witchcraft in general, but his purpose was to show that the evidence against Jane Wenham was weak. The two chief witnesses, Matthew Gilston and Anne Thorne, were "much disturbed in their Imaginations." There were many absurdities in their stories. He cited the story of Anne Thorne's mile run in seven minutes. Who knew that it was seven minutes? There was no one timing her when she started. How was it known that she went half a mile? And, supposing these narratives were true, would they prove anything? The writer took up piece after piece of the evidence in this way and showed its absurdity. Some of his criticisms are amusing--he attacked silly testimony in such a solemn way--yet he had, too, his sense of fun. It had been alleged, he wrote, that the witch's flesh, when pricked, emitted no blood, but a thin watery matter. "Mr. Chauncy, it is like, expected that Jane Wenham's Blood shou'd have been as rich and as florid as that of Anne Thorne's, or of any other Virgin of about 16. He makes no difference, I see, between the Beef and Mutton Regimen, and that of Turnips and Water-gruel."[7] Moreover, he urges, it is well known that fright congeals the blood.[8] We need not go further into this discussion. Mr. Bragge and his friends re-entered the fray at once, and then another writer proved with elaborate argument that there had never been such a thing as witchcraft. The controversy was growing dull, but it had not been without value. It had been, on the whole, an unconventional discussion of the subject and had shown very clearly the street-corner point of view. But we must turn to the more formal treatises. Only three of them need be noticed, those of Richard Baxter, John Beaumont, and Richard Boulton. All of these writers had been affected by the accounts of the Salem witchcraft in New England. The opinions of Glanvill and Matthew Hale had been carried to America and now were brought back to fortify belief in England. Richard Baxter was most clearly influenced by the accounts of what had happened in the New World. The Mathers were his friends and fellow Puritans, and their testimony was not to be doubted for a minute. But Baxter needed no convincing. He had long preached and written about the danger of witches. In a sermon on the Holy Ghost in the fifties he had shown a wide acquaintance with foreign works on demonology.[9] In a _Defence of the Christian Religion_,[10] written several years later, he recognized that the malice of the accusers and the melancholy of the accused were responsible for some cases, but such cases were exceptions. If any one doubted that there were _bona fide_ cases, let him talk to the judges and ministers yet living in Suffolk, Norfolk, and Essex. They could tell him of many of the confessions made in the Hopkins period. Baxter had not only talked on witchcraft with Puritan ministers, but had corresponded as well with Glanvill, with whom, although Glanvill was an Anglican, he seems to have been on very friendly terms.[11] Nor is it likely that in the many conversations he held with his neighbor, Sir Matthew Hale,[12] the evidence from witchcraft for a spiritual world had been neglected. The subject must have come up in his conversations with another friend, Robert Boyle.[13] Boyle's interest in such matters was of course a scientific one. Baxter, like Glanvill, looked at them from a religious point of view. In the classic _Saint's Everlasting Rest_ he drew his fourth argument for the future happiness and misery of man from the Devil's compact with witches.[14] To this point he reverted in his _Dying Thoughts_. His _Certainty of the World of Spirits_, in which he took up the subject of witchcraft in more detail, was written but a few months before his death. "When God first awakened me, to think with preparing seriousness of my Condition after Death, I had not any observed Doubts of the Reality of Spirits.... But, when God had given me peace of Conscience, Satan Assaulted me with those worse Temptations.... I found that my Faith of Supernatural Revelation must be more than a Believing Man and that if it had not a firm foundation, ... even sure Evidence of Verity, ... it was not like ... to make my Death to be safe and comfortable.... I tell the Reader, that he may see why I have taken this Subject as so necessary, why I am ending my Life with the publication of these Historical Letters and Collections, which I dare say have such Evidence as will leave every Sadduce that readeth them, either convinced, or utterly without excuse."[15] By the "Collection" he meant, of course, the narratives brought out in his _Certainty of the World of Spirits_--published in 1691. It is unnecessary to review its arguments here. They were an elaboration of those already used in earlier works. Too much has been made of this book. Baxter had the fever for publication. It was a lean year when he dashed off less than two works. His wife told him once that he would write better if he wrote less. Probably she was thinking of his style, and she was doubtless right. But it was true, too, of his thinking; and none of his productions show this more than his hurried book on, spirits and witches.[16] Beaumont and Boulton may be passed over quickly. Beaumont[17] had read widely in the witch literature of England and other countries;[18] he had read indeed with some care, as is evidenced by the fact that he had compared Hopkins's and Stearne's accounts of the same events and found them not altogether consistent. Nevertheless Beaumont never thought of questioning the reality of witchcraft phenomena, and his chief aim in writing was to answer _The World Bewitched_, the great work of a Dutch theologian, Balthazar Bekker, "who laughs at all these things of this Nature as done by Humane contrivance."[19] Bekker's bold book was indeed gaining wide notice; but this reply to it was entirely commonplace. Richard Boulton, sometime of Brasenose College, published ten years later, in 1715, _A Compleat History of Magic_. It was a book thrown together in a haphazard way from earlier authors, and was written rather to sell than to convince. Seven years later a second edition was brought out, in which the writer inserted an answer to Hutchinson. Before taking up Hutchinson's work we shall turn aside to collect those stray fragments of opinion that indicate in which direction the wind was blowing. Among those who wrote on nearly related topics, one comparatively obscure name deserves mention. Dr. Richard Burthogge published in 1694 an _Essay upon Reason and the Nature of Spirits_, a book which was dedicated to John Locke. He touched on witchcraft in passing. "Most of the relations," he wrote, "do, upon impartial Examination, prove either Impostures of Malicious, or Mistakes of Ignorant and Superstitious persons; yet some come so well Attested that it were to bid defiance to all Human Testimony to refuse them belief."[20] This was the last stand of those who still believed. Shall we, they asked, discredit all human testimony? It was practically the belief of Bishop William Lloyd of Worcester, who, while he urged his clergy to give up their notions about witches, was inclined to believe that the Devil still operates in the Gentile world and among the Pagans.[21] Joseph Addison was equally unwilling to take a radical view. "There are," he wrote in the _Spectator_ for July 14, 1711, "some opinions in which a man should stand neuter.... It is with this temper of mind that I consider the subject of witchcraft.... I endeavour to suspend my belief till I hear more certain accounts.... I believe in general that there is, and has been, such a thing as witchcraft; but at the same time can give no credit to any particular instance of it."[22] The force of credulity among the country people he fully recognized. His Sir Roger de Coverley, who was a justice of the peace, and his chaplain were, he said, too often compelled to put an end to the witch-swimming experiments of the people. If this was belief, it was at least a harmless sort. It was almost exactly the position of James Johnstone, former secretary for Scotland, who, writing from London to the chancellor of Scotland, declared his belief in the existence of witches, but called attention to the fact that the parliaments of France and other judicatories had given up the trying of them because it was impossible to distinguish possession from "nature in disorder."[23] But there were those who were ready to assert a downright negative. The Marquis of Halifax in the _Political, Moral and Miscellaneous Thoughts and Reflections_ which he wrote (or, at least, completed) in 1694, noted "It is a fundamental ... that there were witches--much shaken of late."[24] Secretary of State Vernon and the Duke of Shrewsbury were both of them skeptical about the confessions of witches.[25] Sir Richard Steele lampooned the belief. "Three young ladies of our town," he makes his correspondent relate, "were indicted for witchcraft. One by spirits locked in a bottle and magic herbs drew hundreds of men to her; the second cut off by night the limbs of dead bodies and, muttering words, buried them; the third moulded pieces of dough into the shapes of men, women, and children and then heated them." They "had nothing to say in their own defence but downright denying the facts, which," the writer remarks, "is like to avail very little when they come upon their trials." "The parson," he continued, "will believe nothing of all this; so that the whole town cries out: 'Shame! that one of his cast should be such an atheist.'"[26] The parson had at length assimilated the skepticism of the jurists and the gentry. It was, as has been said, an Anglican clergyman who administered the last great blow to the superstition. Francis Hutchinson's _Historical Essay on Witchcraft_, published in 1718 (and again, enlarged, in 1720), must rank with Reginald Scot's _Discoverie_ as one of the great classics of English witch literature. Hutchinson had read all the accounts of trials in England--so far as he could find them--and had systematized them in chronological order, so as to give a conspectus of the whole subject. So nearly was his point of view that of our own day that it would be idle to rehearse his arguments. A man with warm sympathies for the oppressed, he had been led probably by the case of Jane Wenham, with whom he had talked, to make a personal investigation of all cases that came at all within the ken of those living. Whoever shall write the final story of English witchcraft will find himself still dependent upon this eighteenth-century historian. Hutchinson's work was the last chapter in the witch controversy. There was nothing more to say. [1] _Witchcraft Farther Displayed._ [2] _A Full Confutation of Witchcraft_, 4. [3] _Ibid._, 11. [4] _Ibid._, 38. [5] _Ibid._, 5. [6] _Ibid._, 23-24. [7] _The Case of the Hertfordshire Witchcraft Consider'd_, 72. [8] If certain phrases may be trusted, this writer was interested in the case largely because it had become a cause of sectarian combat and he hoped to strike at the church. [9] See Baxter's _Works_ (London, 1827-1830), XX, 255-271. [10] See _ibid._, XXI, 87. [11] W. Orme in his _Life of Richard Baxter_ (London, 1830), I, 435, says that the Baxter MSS. contain several letters from Glanvill to Baxter. [12] _See Memoirs of Richard Baxter_ by Dr. Bates (in _Biographical Collections, or Lives and Characters from the Works of the Reverend Mr. Baxter and Dr. Bates_, 1760), II, 51, 73. [13] _Ibid._, 26; see also Baxter's _Dying Thoughts_, in _Works_, XVIII, 284, where he refers to the Demon of Mascon, a story for which Boyle, as we have seen, had stood sponsor in England. [14] Ch. VII, sect. iv, in _Works_, XXII, 327. [15] _Certainty of the World of Spirits_ (London, 1691), preface. [16] Two other collectors of witch stories deserve perhaps a note here, for each prefaced his collection with a discussion of witchcraft. The London publisher Nathaniel Crouch, who wrote much for his own press under the pseudonym of "R. B." (later expanded to "Richard Burton"), published as early as 1688 (not 1706, as says the _Dict. Nat. Biog._) _The Kingdom of Darkness: or The History of Dæmons, Specters, Witches, ... Containing near Fourscore memorable Relations, ... Together with a Preface obviating the common Objections and Allegations of the Sadduces [sic] and Atheists of the Age, ... with Pictures._ Edward Stephens, first lawyer, then clergyman, but always a pamphleteer, brought out in 1693 _A Collection of Modern Relations concerning Witches and Witchcraft_, to which was prefaced Sir Matthew Hale's _Meditations concerning the Mercy of God in preserving us from the Malice and Power of Evil Angels_ and a dissertation of his own on _Questions concerning Witchcraft_. [17] _An Historical, Physiological, and Theological Treatise of Spirits, Apparitions, Witchcraft and other Magical Practices_ (London, 1705). Dedicated to "John, Earl of Carbury." [18] See for example, _ibid._, 63, 70, 71, 75, 130-135, 165, 204, 289, 306. [19] Balthazar Bekker's _De Betoverde Weereld_ (Leeuwarden and Amsterdam, 1691-1693), was a most telling attack upon the reality of witchcraft, and, through various translations, was read all over Europe. The first part was translated and published in London in 1695 as _The World Bewitched_, and was republished in 1700 as _The World Turn'd upside down_. [20] _Essay upon Reason and the Nature of Spirits_, 195. [21] G. P. R. James, ed., _Letters Illustrative of the Reign of William III, ... addressed to the Duke of Shrewsbury, by James Vernon, Esq._ (London, 1841), II, 302-303. [22] _Spectator_, no. 117. [23] _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIV, 3, p. 132. [24] H. C. Foxcroft, ed., _Life and Letters of Sir George Savile, Marquis of Halifax_ (London, 1898), II, 493. [25] G. P. R. James, ed., _op. cit._, II, 300. Shrewsbury's opinion may be inferred from Vernon's reply to him. [26] See the _Tatler_, no. 21, May 28, 1709. APPENDICES. A.--PAMPHLET LITERATURE. § 1.--Witchcraft under Elizabeth (see ch. II). A large part of the evidence for the trials of Elizabeth's reign is derived from the pamphlets issued soon after the trials. These pamphlets furnish a peculiar species of historical material, and it is a species so common throughout the history of English witchcraft that it deserves a brief examination in passing. The pamphlets were written of course by credulous people who easily accepted what was told them and whose own powers of observation were untrained. To get at the facts behind their marvellous accounts demands the greatest care and discrimination. Not only must the miraculous be ruled out, but the prejudices of the observer must be taken into account. Did the pamphleteer himself hear and see what he recorded, or was his account at second hand? Did he write soon after the events, when they were fresh in his memory? Does his narrative seem to be that of a painstaking, careful man or otherwise? These are questions to be answered. In many instances, however, the pamphlets were not narrative in form, but were merely abstracts of the court proceedings and testimony. In this case, too, care must be taken in using them, for the testimony damaging to the accused was likely to be accented, while the evidence on the other side, if not suppressed, was not emphasized. In general, however, these records of depositions are sources whose residuum of fact it is not difficult to discover. Both in this and in the narrative material the most valuable points may be gleaned from the incidental references and statements. The writer has made much use of this incidental matter. The position of the witch in her community, the real ground of the feeling against her upon the part of her neighbors, the way in which the alarm spread, the processes used to elicit confession--inferences of this sort may, the writer believes, be often made with a good deal of confidence. We have taken for granted that the pamphlets possess a substratum of truth. This may not always be the case. The pamphleteer was writing to sell. A fictitious narrative of witchcraft or of a witch trial was almost as likely to sell as a true narrative. More than once in the history of witch literature absolutely imaginary stories were foisted upon the public. It is necessary to be constantly on guard against this type of pamphlet. Fortunately nine-tenths of the witch accounts are corroborated from other sources. The absence of such corroboration does not mean that an account should be barred out, but that it should be subjected to the methods of historical criticism, and that it should be used cautiously even if it pass that test. Happily for us, the plan of making a witch story to order does not seem to have occurred to the Elizabethan pamphleteers. So far as we know, all the pamphlets of that time rest upon actual events. We shall take them up briefly in order. The first was _The examination and confession of certaine Wytches at Chensforde in the Countie of Essex before the Quenes maiesties Judges, the XXVI daye of July Anno 1566_. The only original copy of this pamphlet is in the Lambeth Palace library at London and its binding bears the initials of R. B. [Richard Bancroft]. The versified introduction is signed by John Phillips, who presumably was the author. The pamphlet--a black letter one--was issued, in three parts, from the press of William Powell at London, two of them on August 13, the third on August 23, 1566. It has since been reprinted by H. Beigel for the Philobiblon Society, London, 1864-1865. It gives abstracts of the confessions and an account of the court interrogatories. There is every reason to believe that it is in the main an accurate account of what happened at the Chelmsford trials in 1566. Justice Southcote, Dr. Cole, Master Foscue, and Attorney-General Gerard are all names we can identify. Moreover, the one execution narrated is confirmed by the pamphlet dealing with the trials at Chelmsford in 1579. The second pamphlet, also in black letter, deals with the Abingdon cases of 1579. It is entitled _A Rehearsall both straung and true of hainous and horrible actes committed by Elizabeth Stile, alias Rockingham, Mother Dutten, Mother Devell, Mother Margaret. Fower notorious Witches apprehended at Winsore in the Countie of Barks, and at Abington arraigned, condemned and executed on the 28 daye of Februarie last anno 1579_. This pamphlet finds confirmation by a reference in the privy council records to the same event (_Acts P. C._, n. s., XI, 22). Reginald Scot, in his _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 17, 543, mentions another, a book of "Richard Gallis of Windesor" "about certaine witches of Windsore executed at Abington." This would seem to have been a different account of the Abingdon affair, because Scot also on p. 51 speaks of some details of the Abingdon affair as to be found "in a little pamphlet of the acts and hanging of foure witches in anno 1579." It is perhaps the one described by Lowndes, _Bibliographer's Manual of English Literature_ (p. 2959) under the title _The horrible Acts of Eliz. Style, alias Rockingham, Mother Dutton, Mother Dovell, and Mother Margaret, 4 Witches executed at Abingdon, 26 Feb. upon Richard Galis_ (London, 1579) or that mentioned in the Stationers' _Registers_, II (London, 1875), 352, under date of May 4, 1579, as _A brief treatise conteyninge the most strange and horrible crueltye of Elizabeth Sule_ [sic] _alias Bockingham_ [sic] _and hir confederates executed at Abingdon upon Richard Galis etc._ The second Chelmsford trials were also in 1579. The pamphlet account was called _A Detection of damnable driftes, practised by three Witches arraigned at Chelmsforde in Essex at the last Assizes there holden, whiche were executed in Aprill 1579_. There are three references in this pamphlet to people mentioned in the earlier Chelmsford pamphlet, so that the two confirm each other. The third Chelmsford trials came in 1589 and were narrated in a pamphlet entitled _The apprehension and confession of three notorious Witches arraigned and by Justice condemnede in the Countye of Essex the 5 day of Julye last past_. Joan Cunny was convicted, largely on the evidence of the two bastard sons of one of her "lewde" daughters. The eldest of these boys, who was not over ten or twelve, told the court that he had seen his grandmother cause an oak to be blown up by the roots during a calm. The charges against Joan Upney concerned chiefly her dealings with toads, those against Joan Prentice, who lived in an Essex almshouse, had to do with ferrets. The three women seem to have been brought first before justices of the peace and were then tried together and condemned by the "judge of the circuit." This narrative has no outside confirmation, but the internal evidence for its authenticity is good. Three men mentioned as sheriff, justice, and landowner can all be identified as holding those respective positions in the county. The narrative of the St. Oses case appeared in 1582. It was called _A True and just Recorde of the Information, Examination and Confession of all the Witches taken at St. Oses in the countie of Essex: whereof some were executed, and other some entreated according to the determination of Lawe.... Written orderly, as the cases were tryed by evidence, by W. W._ The pamphlet is merely a record of examinations. It is dedicated to Justice Darcy; and from slips, where the judge in describing his action breaks into the first person, it is evident that it was written by the judge himself. Scot, who wrote two years later, had read this pamphlet, and knew of the case (_Discoverie_, 49, 542). There are many references to the case by later writers on witchcraft. Eleven years later came the trials which brought out the pamphlet: _The most strange and admirable discoverie of the three Witches of Warboys, arraigned, convicted and executed at the last assises at Huntingdon ..._, London, 1593. Its contents are reprinted by Richard Boulton, in his _Compleat History of Magick, Sorcery, and Witchcraft_ (London, 1715), I, 49-152. There can be no doubt as to the historical character of this pamphlet. The Throckmortons, the Cromwells, and the Pickerings were all well known in Huntingdonshire. An agreement is still preserved in the archives of the Huntingdon corporation providing that the corporation shall pay £40 to Queen's College, Cambridge, in order that a sermon shall be preached on witchcraft at Huntingdon each Lady day. This was continued for over two hundred years. One of the last sermons on this endowment was preached in 1795 and attacked the belief in witchcraft. The record of the contract is still kept in Queen's College, Brit. Mus. MSS., 5,849, fol. 254. For mention of the affair see Darrel, _Detection of that sinnful ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 36, 39, 110; also Harsnett, _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises_, 93, 97. Several Jacobean writers refer to the case. What seems to be another edition is in the Bodleian: _A True and Particular Observation of a notable Piece of Witchcraft_--which is the inside heading of the first edition. The text is the same, but there are differences in the paging. Perhaps the most curious of all Elizabethan witch pamphlets is entitled _The most wonderfull and true Storie of a certaine Witch named Alse Gooderidge of Stapenhill, who was arraigned and convicted at Darbie, at the Assizes there. As also a true Report of the strange Torments of Thomas Darling, a boy of thirteen years of age, that was possessed by the Devill, with his horrible Fittes and terrible apparitions by him uttered at Burton upon Trent, in the Countie of Stafford, and of his marvellous deliverance_, London, 1597. There are two copies of this--the only ones of which the writer knows--in Lambeth Palace library. They are exactly alike, page for page, except for the last four lines of the last page, where the wording differs. The pamphlet is clearly one written by John Denison as an abstract of an account by Jesse Bee. Harsnett, _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practices of John Darrel_, 266-269, tells how these two books were written. Denison is quoted as to certain insertions made in his manuscript after it left his hands, insertions which are to be found, he says, on pages 15 and 39. The insertions complained of by Denison are indeed to be found on the pages indicated of _The most wonderfull and true Storie of ... Alse Gooderidge_, thus establishing his authorship of the pamphlet. The account by Bee, of which this is an abstract, I have not seen. Alse Gooderidge was put through many examinations and finally died in prison. "She should have been executed, but that her spirit killed her in prison." John Darrel was one of those who sought to help the boy who had been bewitched by Alice. Darrel, however, receives only passing mention from the author of this pamphlet. The narrative does not agree very well in matters of detail with the Darrel tracts, although in the main outlines it is similar to them. It is very crudely put together, and, while it was doubtless a sincere effort to present the truth, must not be too implicitly depended upon. Two pamphlets are hidden away in the back of the _Triall of Maist. Dorrel_ (see below, § 2). The first (pp. 92-98) deals with the trial of Doll Bartham of Shadbrook in Suffolk. She was tried by the chief justice and hanged the 12th of July, 1599. The second (pp. 99-103) narrates the trial of Anne Kerke before "Lorde Anderson," the 30th of December, 1599. She also went to the gallows. There are other pamphlets referred to in Lowndes, etc., which we have been unable to find. One of them is _The Arraignment and Execution of 3 detestable Witches, John Newell, Joane his wife, and Hellen Calles; two executed at Barnett, and one at Braynford, 1 Dec. 1595_. A second bears the title _The severall Facts of Witchcrafte approved on Margaret Haskett of Stanmore_. 1585. Black letter. Another pamphlet in the same year deals with what is doubtless the same case. It is _An Account of Margaret Hacket, a notorious Witch, who consumed a young Man to Death, rotted his Bowells and back bone asunder, who was executed at Tiborn, 19 Feb. 1585_. London, 1585. A fourth pamphlet is _The Examination and Confession of a notorious Witch named Mother Arnold, alias Whitecote, alias Glastonbury, at the Assise of Burntwood in July, 1574: who was hanged for Witchcraft at Barking_. 1575. The title _The case of Agnes Bridges and Rachel Pinder_, created by Hazlitt, _Collections and Notes_, 1867-1876, out of the mention by Holinshed of a printed account, means but _The discloysing_, etc. (see p. 351). The case--see Holinshed, _Chronicles_ (London, 1808), IV, 325, and Stow, Annales (London, 1631), p. 678, who put the affair in 1574--was not of witchcraft, but of pretended possession. See above, p. 59. To this period must belong also _A true report of three Straunge Witches, lately found at Newnham Regis_, mentioned by Hazlitt (_Handbook_, p. 230). I have not seen it; but the printer is given as "J. Charlewood," and Charlewood printed between 1562 and 1593. The _Stationers' Registers_, 1570-1587 (London; Shakespeare Soc., 1849), II, 32, mention also the licensing in 1577 of _The Booke of Witches_--whatever that may have been. Among pamphlets dealing with affairs nearly related to witchcraft may be mentioned the following: _A short treatise declaringe the detestable wickednesse of magicall sciences, as Necromancie, Coniuration of Spirites, Curiouse Astrologie and such lyke.... Made by Francis Coxe._ [London, 1561.] Black letter. Coxe had been pardoned by the Queen. _The Examination of John Walsh, before Master Thomas Williams, Commissary to the Reverend father in God, William, bishop of Excester, upon certayne Interrogatories touchyng Wytch-crafte and Sorcerye, in the presence of divers gentlemen and others, the XX of August, 1566._ 1566. Black letter. John Ashton (_The Devil in Britain and America_, London, 1896, p. 202) has called this the "earliest English printed book on witchcraft pure and simple"; but it did not deal with witches and it was preceded by the first Chelmsford pamphlet. _The discloysing of a late counterfeyted possession by the devyl in two maydens within the Citie of London._ [1574.] Black letter. The case is that of Agnes Bridges and Rachel Pinder, mentioned above (pp. 59, 351). _The Wonderfull Worke of God shewed upon a Chylde, whose name is William Withers, being in the Towne of Walsam ... Suffolk, who, being Eleven Yeeres of age, laye in a Traunce the Space of Tenne Days ... and hath continued the Space of Three Weeks_, London, 1581. Written by John Phillips. This pamphlet is mentioned by Sidney Lee in his article on John Phillips in the _Dict. Nat. Biog._ _A Most Wicked worke of a Wretched Witch (the like whereof none can record these manie yeares in England) wrought on the Person of one Richard Burt, servant to Maister Edling of Woodhall in the Parrish of Pinner in the Countie of Myddlesex, a myle beyond Harrow. Latelie committed in March last, An. 1592 and newly recognized acording to the truth. By G. B. maister of Artes._ [London, 1593.] See Hazlitt, Collections and Notes, 1867-1877. The pamphlet may be found in the library of Lambeth Palace. The story is a curious one; no action seems to have been taken. _A defensative against the poyson of supposed prophecies, not hitherto confuted by the penne of any man; which being eyther uppon the warrant and authority of old paynted bookes, expositions of dreames, oracles, revelations, invocations of damned spirits ... have been causes of great disorder in the commonwealth and chiefly among the simple and unlearned people._ Henry Howard, afterwards Earl of Northampton, was the author of this "defensative." It appeared about 1581-1583, and was revised and reissued in 1621. Three Elizabethan ballads on witches are noted by Hazlitt, _Bibliographical Collections and Notes_, 2d series (London, 1882): _A warnynge to wytches_, published in 1585, _The scratchinge of the wytches_, published in 1579, and _A lamentable songe of Three Wytches of Warbos, and executed at Huntingdon_, published in 1593. Already in 1562-3 "a boke intituled _A poosye in forme of a visyon, agaynste wytche Crafte, and Sosyrye_," written "in myter" by John Hall, had been published (_Stationers' Registers_, 1557-1570, p. 78). Some notion of the first step in the Elizabethan procedure against a witch may be gathered from the specimens of "indictments" given in the old formula book of William West, _Simboleography_ (pt. ii, first printed in 1594). Three specimens are given; two are of indictments "For killing a man by witchcraft upon the statute of Anno 5. of the Queene," the third is "For bewitching a Horse, whereby he wasted and became worse." As the documents in such bodies of models are usually genuine papers with only a suppression of the names, it is probable that the dates assigned to the indictments noted--the 34th and 35th years of Elizabeth--are the true ones, and that the initials given, "S. B. de C. in comit. H. vidua," "Marg' L. de A. in com' E. Spinster," and "Sara B. de C. in comitatu Eb. vidua," are those of the actual culprits and of their residences. Yorkshire is clearly one of the counties meant. It was, moreover, West's own county. § 2.--The Exorcists (see ch. IV). The account of Elizabethan exorcism which we have given is necessarily one-sided. It deals only with the Puritan movement--if Darrel's work may be so called--and does not treat the Catholic exorcists. We have omitted the performances of Father Weston and his coadjutors because they had little or no relation to the subject of witchcraft. Those who wish to follow up this subject can find a readable discussion of it by T. G. Law in the _Nineteenth Century_ for March, 1894, "Devil Hunting in Elizabethan England." It is a rather curious fact that the Puritan exorcist has never, except for a few pages by S. R. Maitland, in his _Puritan Thaumaturgy_ (London, 1842), been made a study. Without doubt he, his supporters, and his enemies were able between them to make a noise in their own time. To be convinced of that one need only read the early seventeenth-century dramatists. It may possibly be that Darrel was not the mere impostor his enemies pictured him. Despite his trickery it may be that he had really a certain hypnotic control over William Somers and perhaps over Katherine Wright. Whatever else Darrel may have been, he was a ready pamphleteer. His career may easily be traced in the various brochures put forth, most of them from his own pen. Fortunately we have the other side presented by Samuel Harsnett, and by two obscure clergymen, John Deacon and John Walker. The following is a tentative list of the printed pamphlets dealing with the subject: _A Breife Narration of the possession, dispossession, and repossession of William Sommers: and of some proceedings against Mr. John Dorrel preacher, with aunsweres to such objections.... Together with certaine depositions taken at Nottingham ..., 1598._ Black letter. This was written either by Darrel or at his instigation. _An Apologie, or defence of the possession of William Sommers, a yong man of the towne of Nottingham.... By John Darrell, Minister of Christ Jesus...._ [1599?] Black letter. This work is undated, but, to judge from the preface, it was probably written soon after both Darrel and More were imprisoned. It is quite clear too that it was written before Harsnett's _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practices of John Darrel_, for Darrel says that he hears that the Bishop of London is writing a book against him. _The Triall of Maist. Dorrel, or A Collection of Defences against Allegations.... 1599._ This seems written by Darrel himself; but the Huth catalogue (V, 1643) ascribes it to James Bamford. _A brief Apologie proving the possession of William Sommers. Written by John Dorrel, a faithful Minister of the Gospell, but published without his knowledge.... 1599._ _A Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel, Bacheler of Artes ..._, London, 1599. The "Epistle to the Reader" is signed "S. H.," _i. e._, Samuel Harsnett, then chaplain to the Bishop of London. The book is an exposure, in 324 pages, of Darrel's various impostures, and is based mainly on the depositions given in his trial at Lambeth. _A True Narration of the strange and grevous Vexation by the Devil of seven persons in Lancashire ..., 1600._ Written by Darrel. Reprinted in 1641 with the title _A True Relation of the grievous handling of William Somers of Nottingham_. It is again reprinted in the _Somers Tracts_, III, and is the best known of the pamphlets. _A True Discourse concerning the certaine possession and dispossession of 7 persons in one familie in Lancashire, which also may serve as part of an Answere to a fayned and false Discoverie.... By George More, Minister and Preacher of the Worde of God ..., 1600._ More was Darrel's associate in the Cleworth performances and suffered imprisonment with him. _A Detection of that sinnful, shamful, lying, and ridiculous discours of Samuel Harshnet._ 1600. This is Darrel's most abusive work. He takes up Harsnett's points one by one and attempts to answer them. _Dialogicall Discourses of Spirits and Divels by John Deacon [and] John Walker, Preachers_, London, 1601. _A Summarie Answere to al the Material Points in any of Master Darel his bookes, More especiallie to that one Booke of his, intituled, the Doctrine of the Possession and Dispossession of Demoniaks out of the word of God. By John Deacon [and] John Walker, Preachers_, London, 1601. The "one Booke" now answered is a part of Darrel's _A True Narration_. The _Discourses_ are dedicated to Sir Edmund Anderson and other men eminent in the government and offer in excuse that "the late bred broyles ... doe mightilie over-runne the whole Realme." _A Survey of Certaine Dialogical Discourses, written by John Deacon and John Walker ... By John Darrell, minister of the gospel ..., 1602._ _The Replie of John Darrell, to the Answer of John Deacon, and John Walker concerning the doctrine of the Possession and Dispossession of Demoniakes ..., 1602._ Harsnett's second work must not be omitted from our account. In his famous _Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures_, 1603 and 1605, he shows to even better advantage than in the earlier work his remarkable talents as an exposer and gives freer play to his wicked humor. _A True and Breife Report of Mary Glover's Vexation, and of her deliverance by the meanes of fastinge and prayer.... By John Swan, student in Divinitie ..., 1603._ This narrates another exorcism in which a number of clergymen participated. Swan, the author, in his dedication to the king, takes up the cudgels vigorously against Harsnett. Elizabeth Jackson was accused of having bewitched her, and was indicted. Justice Anderson tried the case and showed himself a confirmed believer in witchcraft. But the king was of another mind and sent, to examine the girl, a physician, Dr. Edward Jorden, who detected her imposture and explained it in his pamphlet, _A briefe discourse of a disease called the Suffocation of the Mother, Written uppon occasion which hath beene of late taken thereby, to suspect possession of an evill spirit...._ (London, 1603). He was opposed by the author of a book still unprinted, "Mary Glover's late woefull case ... by Stephen Bradwell.... 1603" (Brit. Mus., Sloane, 831). But see also below, appendix C, under 1602-1603. One other pamphlet dealing with this same episode must be mentioned. Hutchinson, _Historical Essay on Witchcraft_, and George Sinclar, _Satan's Invisible World Discovered_ (Edinburgh, 1685), had seen an account by the Rev. Lewis Hughes (in his _Certaine Grievances_) of the case of Mother Jackson, who was accused of bewitching Mary Glover. Although Hughes's tale was not here published until 1641-2, the events with which it deals must all have taken place in 1602 or 1603. Sir John Crook is mentioned as recorder of London and Sir Edmund Anderson as chief justice. "R. B.," in _The Kingdom of Darkness_ (London, 1688), gives the story in detail, although misled, like Hutchinson, into assigning it to 1642. It remains to mention certain exorcist pamphlets of which we possess only the titles: _A history of the case of Catherine Wright._ No date; written presumably by Darrel and given by him to Mrs. Foljambe, afterwards Lady Bowes. See C. H. and T. Cooper, _Athenae Cantabrigienses_ (Cambridge, 1858-1861), II, 381. Darrel says that there was a book printed about "Margaret Harrison of Burnham-Ulpe in Norfolk and her vexation by Sathan." See _Detection of that sinnfull ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 36, and _Survey of Certaine Dialogical Discourses_, 54. _The strange Newes out of Sommersetshire, Anno 1584, tearmed, a dreadfull discourse of the dispossessing of one Margaret Cooper at Ditchet, from a devill in the likenes of a headlesse beare._ Referred to by Harsnett, _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel_, 17. A ballad seems to have been written about the Somers case. Extracts from it are given by Harsnett, _ibid._, 34, 120. § 3.--James I and Witchcraft and Notable Jacobean Cases (see chs. V, VI). _The Most Cruell and Bloody Murther committed by an Innkeepers Wife called Annis Dell, and her Sonne George Dell, Foure Yeares since.... With the severall Witch-crafts and most damnable practices of one Iohane Harrison and her Daughter, upon several persons men and women at Royston, who were all executed at Hartford the 4 of August last past 1606._ So far as the writer knows, there is no contemporary reference to confirm the executions mentioned in this pamphlet. The story itself is a rather curious one with a certain literary flavor. This, however, need not weigh against it. It seems possible rather than probable that the narrative is a fabrication. _The severall notorious and lewd Cosenages of Iohn West and Alice West, falsely called the King and Queene of Fayries ... convicted ... 1613_, London, 1613. This might pass in catalogues as a witch pamphlet. It is an account of two clever swindlers and of their punishment. _The Witches of Northamptonshire._ _Agnes Browne_ } _Arthur Bill_ } _Joane Vaughan_} _Hellen Jenkenson_} _Witches._ _Mary Barber_ } _Who were all executed at Northampton the 22. of July last. 1612._ Concerning this same affair there is an account in MS., "A briefe abstract of the arraignment of nine witches at Northampton, July 21, 1621" (Brit. Mus., Sloane, 972). This narrative has, in common with the printed narrative, the story of Mistress Belcher's and Master Avery's sufferings from witchcraft. It mentions also Agnes Brown and Joan Brown (or Vaughan) who, according to the other account, were hanged. All the other names are different. But it is nevertheless not hard to reconcile the two accounts. The "briefe abstract" deals with the testimony taken before the justices of the peace on two charges; the _Witches of Northamptonshire_ with the final outcome at the assizes. Three of those finally hanged were not concerned in the first accusations and were brought in from outlying districts. On the other hand, most of those who were first accused by Belcher and Avery seem not to have been indicted. _The Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches in the countie of Lancaster. With the Arraignement and Triall of Nineteene notorious Witches, at the Assizes and generall Gaole deliverie, holden at the Castle of Lancaster, upon Munday, the seventeenth of August last, 1612. Before Sir James Altham, and Sir Edward Bromley.... Together with the Arraignement and Triall of Jennet Preston, at the Assizes holden at the Castle of Yorke, the seven and twentieth day of Julie last past.... Published and set forth by commandement of his Majesties Justices of Assize in the North Parts. By Thomas Potts, Esq._ London, 1613. Reprinted by the Chetham Soc, J. Crossley, ed., 1845. Thomas Potts has given us in this book the fullest of all English witch accounts. No other narrative offers such an opportunity to examine the character of evidence as well as the court procedure. Potts was very superstitious, but his account is in good faith. _Witches Apprehended, Examined and Executed, for notable villanies by them committed both by Land and Water. With a strange and most true trial how to know whether a woman be a Witch or not._ London, 1613. Bodleian. _A Booke of the Wytches Lately condemned and executed at Bedford, 1612-1613._ I have seen no copy of this pamphlet, the title of which is given by Edward Arber, _Transcript of the Registers of the Company of Stationers of London, 1554-1640_ (London, 1875-1894), III, 234b.... The story is without doubt the same as that told in the preceding pamphlet. We have no absolutely contemporary reference to this case. Edward Fairfax, who wrote in 1622, had heard of the case--probably, however, from the pamphlet itself. But we can be quite certain that the narrative was based on an actual trial and conviction. Some of the incidental details given are such as no fabricator would insert. In the MS., "How to discover a witch," Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 36,674, f. 148, there is a reference to a detail of Mother Sutton's ordeal not given in the pamphlet I have used. _A Treatise of Witchcraft.... With a true Narration of the Witchcrafts which Mary Smith, wife of Henry Smith, Glover, did practise ... and lastly, of her death and execution ... By Alexander Roberts, B. D. and Preacher of Gods Word at Kings-Linne in Norffolke._ London, 1616. The case of Mary Smith is taken up at p. 45. This account was dedicated to the "Maior" and aldermen, etc., of "Kings Linne" and was no doubt semi-official. It is reprinted in Howell, _State Trials_, II. _The Wonderful Discoverie of the Witchcrafts of Margaret and Phillip Flower, daughters of Joan Flower neere Bever Castle: executed at Lincolne, March 11, 1618. Who were specially arraigned and condemned before Sir Henry Hobart and Sir Edward Bromley, Judges of Assize, for confessing themselves actors in the destruction of Henry, Lord Rosse, with their damnable practises against others the Children of the Right Honourable Francis Earle of Rutland. Together with the severall Examinations and Confessions of Anne Baker, Joan Willimot, and Ellen Greene, Witches in Leicestershire_, London, 1619. For confirmation of the Rutlandshire witchcraft see _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1619-1623_, 129; _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Rutland_, IV, 514. See also _Gentleman's Magazine_, LXXIV, pt. ii, 909: "On the monument of Francis, sixth earl of Rutland, in Bottesford church, Leicestershire, it is recorded that by his second lady he had 'two Sons, both which died in their infancy by wicked practices and sorcery.'" Another pamphlet seems to have been issued about the affair: _Strange and wonderfull Witchcrafts, discovering the damnable Practises of seven Witches against the Lives of certain noble Personages and others of this Kingdom; with an approved Triall how to find out either Witch or any Apprentise to Witchcraft, 1621._ Another edition in 1635; see Lowndes. _The Wonderfull discoverie of Elizabeth Sawyer ... late of Edmonton, her conviction, condemnation and Death.... Written by Henry Goodcole, Minister of the word of God, and her continuall Visiter in the Gaole of Newgate.... 1621._ The Reverend Mr. Goodcole wrote a plain, unimaginative story, the main facts of which we cannot doubt. They are supported moreover by Dekker and Ford's play, _The Witch of Edmonton_, which appeared within a year. Goodcole refers to the "ballets" written about this case. _The Boy of Bilson: or A True Discovery of the Late Notorious Impostures of Certaine Romish Priests in their pretended Exorcisme, or expulsion of the Divell out of a young Boy, named William Perry...._ London, 1622. Preface signed by Ryc. Baddeley. This is an account of a famous imposture. It is really a pamphlet against the Catholic exorcists. On pp. 45-54 is given a reprint of the Catholic account of the affair; on pp. 55-75 the exposure of the imposture is related. We can confirm this account by Arthur Wilson, _Life and Reign of James I_, 107-111, and by John Webster, _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 274. _A Discourse of Witchcraft As it was acted in the Family of Mr. Edward Fairfax of Fuystone in the County of York, in the year 1621._ Edited by R. Monckton Milnes (the later Lord Houghton) for vol. V of _Miscellanies of the Philobiblon Soc._ (London, 1858-1859, 299 pages). The editor says the original MS. is still in existence. Edward Fairfax was a natural brother of Sir Thomas Fairfax of Denton. He translated into English verse Tasso's _Jerusalem Delivered_, and accomplished other poetic feats. His account of his children's bewitchment and of their trances is very detailed. The book was again published at Harrogate in 1882, under the title of _Dæmonologia: a Discourse on Witchcraft_, with an introduction and notes by William Grainge. § 4.--Matthew Hopkins (see ch. VIII). _A Most certain, strange and true Discovery of a Witch, Being overtaken by some of the Parliament Forces, as she was standing on a small Planck-board and sayling on it over the River of Newbury, Together with the strange and true manner of her death._ 1643. The tale told here is a curious one. The soldiers saw a woman crossing the river on a plank, decided that she was a witch, and resolved to shoot her. "She caught their bullets in her hands and chew'd them." When the "veines that crosse the temples of the head" were scratched so as to bleed, she lost her power and was killed by a pistol shot just below the ear. It is not improbable that this distorted tale was based on an actual happening in the war. See _Mercurius Civicus_, September 21-28, 1643. _A Confirmation and Discovery of Witch-craft ... together with the Confessions of many of those executed since May 1645.... By John Stearne ..._ London, 1648. _The Examination, Confession, Triall, and Execution of Joane Williford, Joan Cariden and Jane Hott: who were executed at Feversham, in Kent ... all attested under the hand of Robert Greenstreet, Maior of Feversham._ London, 1645. This pamphlet has no outside evidence to confirm its statements, but it has every appearance of being a true record of examinations. _A true and exact Relation of the severall Informations, Examinations, and Confessions of the late Witches arraigned and executed in the County of Essex. Who were arraigned and condemned at the late Sessions, holden at Chelmesford before the Right Honorable Robert, Earle of Warwicke, and severall of his Majesties Justices of Peace, the 29 of July 1645...._ London, 1645. Reprinted London, 1837; also embodied in Howell, _State Trials_. This is a very careful statement of the court examinations, drawn up by "H. F." In names and details it has points of coincidence with the _True Relation_ about the Bury affair; see next paragraph below. It is supported, too, by Arthur Wilson's account of the affair; see Francis Peck, _Desiderata Curiosa_ (ed. of London, 1779), II, 476. _A True Relation of the Araignment of eighteene Witches at St. Edmundsbury, 27th August 1645.... As also a List of the names of those that were executed._ London, 1645. There is abundance of corroborative evidence for the details given in this pamphlet. It fits in with the account of the Essex witches; its details are amplified by Stearne, _Confirmation of Witchcraft_, Clarke, _Lives of sundry Eminent Persons_, John Walker, _Suffering of the Clergy ... in the Grand Rebellion_ (London, 1714), and others. The narrative was written in the interim between the first and second trials at Bury. _Strange and fearfull newes from Plaisto in the parish of Westham neere Bow foure miles from London_, London, 1645. Unimportant. _The Lawes against Witches and Conjuration, and Some brief Notes and Observations for the Discovery of Witches. Being very Usefull for these Times wherein the Devil reignes and prevailes.... Also The Confession of Mother Lakeland, who was arraigned and condemned for a Witch at Ipswich in Suffolke.... By authority._ London, 1645. The writer of this pamphlet acknowledges his indebtedness to Potts, _Discoverie of Witches in the countie of Lancaster_ (1613), and to Bernard, _Guide to Grand Jurymen_ (1627). These books had been used by Stearne and doubtless by Hopkins. This pamphlet expresses Hopkins's ideas, it is written in Hopkins's style--so far as we know it--and it may have been the work of the witchfinder himself. That might explain, too, the "by authority" of the title. _Signes and Wonders from Heaven.... Likewise a new discovery of Witches in Stepney Parish. And how 20. Witches more were executed in Suffolk this last Assise. Also how the Divell came to Soffarn to a Farmers house in the habit of a Gentlewoman on horse backe._ London, [1645]. Mentions the Chelmsford, Suffolk, and Norfolk trials. _The Witches of Huntingdon, their Examinations and Confessions ..._, London, 1646. This work is dedicated to the justices of the peace for the county of Huntingdon; the dedication is signed by John Davenport. Three of the witches whose accusations are here presented are mentioned by Stearne (_Confirmation of Witchcraft_, 11, 13, 20-21, 42). _The Discovery of Witches: in answer to severall Queries, lately Delivered to the Judges of Assize for the County of Norfolk. And now published by Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder. For the Benefit of the Whole Kingdome...._ London, 1647. Hopkins's and Stearne's accounts fit into each other and are the two best sources for ch. VIII. _The [D]Ivell in Kent, or His strange Delusions at Sandwitch_, London, 1647. Has nothing to do with witches; shows the spirit of the times. _A strange and true Relation of a Young Woman possest with the Devill. By name Joyce Dovey dwelling at Bewdley neer Worcester ... as it was certified in a Letter from Mr. James Dalton unto Mr. Tho. Groome, Ironmonger over against Sepulchres Church in London.... Also a Letter from Cambridge, wherein is related the late conference between the Devil (in the shape of a Mr. of Arts) and one Ashbourner, a Scholler of S. Johns Colledge ... who was afterwards carried away by him and never heard of since onely his Gown found in the River_, London, 1647. In the first narrative a woman after hearing a sermon fell into fits. The second narrative was probably based upon a combination of facts and rumor. _The Full Tryals, Examination and Condemnation of Four Notorious Witches, At the Assizes held in Worcester on Tuseday the 4th of March ... As also Their Confessions and last Dying Speeches at the place of Execution, with other Amazing Particulars ..._, London, printed by "I. W.," no date. Another edition of this pamphlet (in the Bodleian) bears the date 1700 and was printed for "J. M." in Fleet street. This is a most interesting example of a made-to-order witch pamphlet. The preface makes one suspect its character: "the following narrative coming to my hand." The accused were Rebecca West, Margaret Landis, Susan Cook, and Rose Hallybread. Now, all these women were tried at Chelmsford in 1645, and their examinations and confessions printed in _A true and exact Relation_. The wording has been changed a little, several things have been added, but the facts are similar; see _A true and exact Relation_,10, 11, 13-15, 27. When the author of the Worcester pamphlet came to narrate the execution he wandered away from his text and invented some new particulars. The women were "burnt at the stak." They made a "yelling and howling." Two of them were very "stubborn and refractory." _Cf._ below, § 10. _The Devill seen at St. Albans, Being a true Relation How the Devill was seen there in a Cellar, in the likenesse of a Ram; and how a Butcher came and cut his throat, and sold some of it, and dressed the rest for himselfe, inviting many to supper_ ..., 1648. A clever lampoon. § 5.--Commonwealth and Protectorate (see ch. IX). _The Divels Delusions or A faithfull relation of John Palmer and Elizabeth Knott two notorious Witches lately condemned at the Sessions of Oyer and Terminer in St. Albans ..._, 1649. The narrative purports to be taken from a letter sent from St. Alban's. It deals with the practices of two good witches who were finally discovered to be black witches. The tale has no outside confirmation. _Wonderfull News from the North, Or a True Relation of the Sad and Grievous Torments Inflicted upon the Bodies of three Children of Mr. George Muschamp, late of the County of Northumberland, by Witchcraft, ... As also the prosecution of the sayd Witches, as by Oaths, and their own Confessions will appear and by the Indictment found by the Jury against one of them, at the Sessions of the Peace held at Alnwick, the 24 day of April 1650_, London, 1650. Preface signed: "Thine, Mary Moore." This pamphlet bears all through the marks of a true narrative. It is written evidently by a friend of the Mistress Muschamp who had such difficulty in persuading the north country justices, judges, and sheriffs to act. The names and the circumstances fit in with other known facts. _The strange Witch at Greenwich haunting a Wench_, 1650. Unimportant. _A Strange Witch at Greenwich_, 1650. The last two pamphlets are mentioned by Lowndes. The second pamphlet I have not seen; as, however, Lowndes cites the title of the first incorrectly, it is very possible that he has given two titles for the same pamphlet. _The Witch of Wapping, or an Exact and Perfect Relation of the Life and Devilish Practises of Joan Peterson, who dwelt in Spruce Island, near Wapping; Who was condemned for practising Witchcraft, and sentenced to be Hanged at Tyburn, on Munday the 11th of April 1652_, London, 1652. _A Declaration in Answer to several lying Pamphlets concerning the Witch of Wapping, ... shewing the Bloudy Plot and wicked Conspiracy of one Abraham Vandenhemde, Thomas Crompton, Thomas Collet, and others_, London, 1652. This pamphlet is described above, pp. 214-215. _The Tryall and Examinations of Mrs. Joan Peterson before the Honourable Bench at the Sessions house in the Old Bayley yesterday._ [1652]. This states the case against Mistress Joan in the title, but (unless the British Museum copy is imperfect) gives no details. _Doctor Lamb's Darling, or Strange and terrible News from Salisbury; Being A true, exact, and perfect Relation of the great and wonderful Contract and Engagement made between the Devil, and Mistris Anne Bodenham; with the manner how she could transform herself into the shape of a Mastive Dog, a black Lyon, a white Bear, a Woolf, a Bull, and a Cat.... The Tryal, Examinations, and Confession ... before the Lord Chief Baron Wild.... By James [Edmond?] Bower, Cleric_, London, 1653. This is the first account of the affair and is a rather crude one. _Doctor Lamb Revived, or, Witchcraft condemn'd in Anne Bodenham ... who was Arraigned and Executed the Lent Assizes last at Salisbury, before the Right Honourable the Lord Chief Baron Wild, Judge of the Assize.... By Edmond Bower, an eye and ear Witness of her Examination and Confession_, London, 1653. Bower's second and more detailed account. It is dedicated to the judge by the writer, who had a large part in the affair and frequently interviewed the witch. He does not present a record of examinations, but gives a detailed narrative of the entire affair. He throws out hints about certain phases of the case and rouses curiosity without satisfying it. His story of Anne Bodenham is, however, clear and interesting. The celebrated Aubrey refers to the case in his _Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme_, 261. His account, which tallies well with that of Bower, he seems to have derived from Anthony Ettrick "of the Middle Temple," who was a "curious observer of the whole triall." _A Prodigious and Tragicall History of the Arraignment, Tryall, Confession, and Condemnation of six Witches at Maidstone, in Kent, at the Assizes there held in July, Fryday 30, this present year, 1652. Before the Right Honourable, Peter Warburton.... Collected from the Observations of E. G. Gent, a learned person, present at their Conviction and Condemnation, and digested by H. F. Gent._, London, 1652. It is a pity that the digesting was not omitted. The account, however, is trustworthy. Mention is made of this trial by Elias Ashmole in his _Diary_ (London, 1717) and by _The Faithful Scout_, July 30-August 7, 1652. _The most true and wonderfull Narration of two women bewitched in Yorkshire: Who camming to the Assizes at York to give in Evidence against the Witch after a most horrible noise to the terror and amazement of all the beholders, did vomit forth before the Judges, Pins, wool.... Also a most true Relation of a young Maid ... who ... did ... vomit forth wadds of straw, with pins a crosse in them, iron Nails, Needles, ... as it is attested under the hand of that most famour Phisitian Doctor Henry Heers, ... 1658._ In the Bodleian. The writer of this pamphlet had little information to give and seems to have got it at second or third hand. _A more Exact Relation of the most lamentable and horrid Contract which Lydia Rogers, living in Pump-Ally in Wapping, made with the Divel.... Together with the great pains and prayers of many eminent Divines, ... 1658._ In the Bodleian. This is a "Relation of a woman who heretofore professing Religion in the purity thereof fel afterwards to be a sectary, and then to be acquainted with Astrologers, and afterwards with the Divel himself." A poor woman "naturally inclin'd to melancholy" believed she had made a contract with the Devil. "Many Ministers are dayly with her." _The Snare of the Devill Discovered: Or, A True and perfect Relation of the sad and deplorable Condition of Lydia the Wife of John Rogers House Carpenter, living in Greenbank in Pumpe alley in Wappin.... Also her Examination by Mr. Johnson the Minister of Wappin, and her Confession. As also in what a sad Condition she continues...._ London, 1658. Another tract against the Baptists. In spite of Lydia Rogers's supposed contract with the Devil, she does not seem to have been brought into court. _Strange and Terrible Newes from Cambridge, being A true Relation of the Quakers bewitching of Mary Philips ... into the shape of a Bay Mare, riding her from Dinton towards the University. With the manner how she became visible again ... in her own Likeness and Shape, with her sides all rent and torn, as if they had been spur-galled, ... and the Names of the Quakers brought to tryal on Friday last at the Assises held at Cambridge ..._, London, 1659. This is mentioned by John Ashton in the bibliographical appendix to his _The Devil in Britain and America_. _The Just Devil of Woodstock, or a true narrative of the severall apparitions, the frights and punishments inflicted upon the Rumpish commissioners sent thither to survey the manors and houses belonging to His Majesty._ 1660. Wood, _Athenae Oxonienses_ (ed. of 1817), III, 398, ascribes this to Thomas Widdowes. It was on the affair described in this pamphlet that Walter Scott based his novel _Woodstock_. The story given in the pamphlet may be found in Sinclar's _Satan's Invisible World Discovered_. The writer has not seen the original pamphlet. § 6.--Charles II and James II (see ch. XI). _The Power of Witchcraft, Being a most strange but true Relation of the most miraculous and wonderful deliverance of one Mr. William Harrison of Cambden in the County of Gloucester, Steward to the Lady Nowel ..._, London, 1662. _A True and Perfect Account of the Examination, Confession, Tryal, Condemnation and Execution of Joan Perry and her two Sons ... for the supposed murder of William Harrison, Gent ..._, London, 1676. These are really not witchcraft pamphlets. Mr. Harrison disappears, three people are charged with his murder and hanged. Mr. Harrison comes back from Turkey in two years and tells a story of his disappearance which leads to the supposition that he was transported thither by witchcraft. _A Tryal of Witches at the assizes held at Bury St. Edmonds for the County of Suffolk; on the tenth day of March, 1664_, London, 1682; another edition, 1716. The writer of this tract writes in introducing it: "This Tryal of Witches hath lain a long time in a private Gentleman's Hands in the Country, it being given to him by the Person that took it in the Court for his own satisfaction." This is the much quoted case before Sir Matthew Hale. The pamphlet presents one of the most detailed accounts of the court procedure in a witch case. _The Lord's Arm Stretched Out in an Answer of Prayer or a True Relation of the wonderful Deliverance of James Barrow, the Son of John Barrow of Olaves Southwark_, London, 1664. This seems to be a Baptist pamphlet. _The wonder of Suffolke, being a true relation of one that reports he made a league with the Devil for three years, to do mischief, and now breaks open houses, robs people daily, ... and can neither be shot nor taken, but leaps over walls fifteen feet high, runs five or six miles in a quarter of an hour, and sometimes vanishes in the midst of multitudes that go to take him. Faithfully written in a letter from a solemn person, dated not long since, to a friend in Ship-yard, near Temple-bar, and ready to be attested by hundreds ..._, London, 1677. This is mentioned in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1829, pt. ii, 584. I have not seen a copy of the pamphlet. _Daimonomageia: a small Treatise of Sicknesses and Diseases from Witchcraft and Supernatural Causes.... Being useful to others besides Physicians, in that it confutes Atheistical, Sadducistical, and Sceptical Principles and Imaginations ..._, London, 1665. Though its title-page bears no name, the author was undoubtedly that "William Drage, D. P. [Doctor of Physic] at Hitchin," in Hertfordshire, to whose larger treatise on medicine (first printed in 1664 as _A Physical Nosonomy_, then in 1666 as _The Practice of Physick_, and again in 1668 as _Physical Experiments_) it seems to be a usual appendage. It is so, at least, in the Cornell copy of the first edition and in the Harvard copy of the third, and is so described by the _Dict. Nat. Biog._ and by the British Museum catalogue. _Hartford-shire Wonder. Or, Strange News from Ware, Being an Exact and true Relation of one Jane Stretton ... who hath been visited in a strange kind of manner by extraordinary and unusual fits ..._, London, 1669. The title gives the clue to this story. The narrator makes it clear that a certain woman was suspected of the bewitchment. _A Magicall Vision, Or a Perfect Discovery of the Fallacies of Witchcraft, As it was lately represented in a pleasant sweet Dream to a Holysweet Sister, a faithful and pretious Assertor of the Family of the Stand-Hups, for preservation of the Saints from being tainted with the heresies of the Congregation of the Doe-Littles_, London, 1673. I have not seen this. It is mentioned by Hazlitt, _Bibliographical Collections_, fourth series, _s. v._ Witchcraft. _A Full and True Relation of The Tryal, Condemnation, and Execution of Ann Foster ... at the place of Execution at Northampton. With the Manner how she by her Malice and Witchcraft set all the Barns and Corn on Fire ... and bewitched a whole Flock of Sheep ..._, London, 1674. This narrative has no confirmation from other sources, yet its details are so susceptible of natural explanation that they warrant a presumption of its truth. _Strange News from Arpington near Bexby in Kent: Being a True Narrative of a yong Maid who was Possest with several Devils ..._, London, 1679. _Strange and Wonderful News from Yowell in Surry; Giving a True and Just Account of One Elisabeth Burgess, Who was most strangely Bewitched and Tortured at a sad rate_, London, 1681. _An Account of the Tryal and Examination of Joan Buts, for being a Common Witch and Inchantress, before the Right Honourable Sir Francis Pemberton, Lord Chief Justice, at the Assizes ... 1682._ Single leaf. The four brochures next to be described deal with the same affair and substantially agree. _The Tryal, Condemnation, and Execution of Three Witches, viz. Temperance Floyd, Mary Floyd, and Susanna Edwards. Who were Arraigned at Exeter on the 18th of August, 1682...._ London, 1682. Confirmed by the records of the gaol deliveries examined by Mr. Inderwick (_Side-Lights on the Stuarts_, p. 192). _A True and Impartial Relation of the Informations against Three Witches, viz. Temperance Lloyd, Mary Trembles, and Susanna Edwards, who were Indicted, Arraigned, and Convicted at the Assizes holden ... at ... Exon, Aug. 14, 1682. With their several Confessions ... as also Their ... Behaviour, at the ... Execution on the Twenty fifth of the said Month_, London, 1682. This, the fullest account (40 pp.), gives correctly the names of these three women, whom I still believe the last put to death for witchcraft in England. _Witchcraft discovered and punished. Or the Tryals and Condemnation of three Notorious Witches, who were Tryed the last Assizes, holden at the Castle of Exeter ... where they received sentence of Death, for bewitching severall Persons, destroying Ships at Sea, and Cattel by Land. To the Tune of Doctor Faustus; or Fortune my Foe._ In the Roxburghe Collection at the British Museum. Broadside. A ballad of 17 stanzas (4 lines each) giving the story of the affair. _The Life and Conversation of Temperance Floyd, Mary Lloyd and Susanna Edwards ...; Lately Condemned at Exeter Assizes; together with a full Account of their first Agreement with the Devil: With the manner how they prosecuted their devilish Sorceries ..._, London, 1687. _A Full and True Account of the Proceedings at the Sessions of Oyer and Terminer ... which began at the Sessions House in the Old Bayley on Thursday, June 1st, and Ended on Fryday, June 2nd, 1682. Wherein is Contained the Tryal of many notorious Malefactors ... but more especially the Tryall of Jane Kent for Witchcraft_. This pamphlet is a brief summary of several cases just finished and has every evidence of being a faithful account. It is to be found in the library of Lincoln's Inn. _Strange and Dreadful News from the Town of Deptford in the County of Kent, Being a Full, True, and Sad Relation of one Anne Arthur._ 1684/5. One leaf, folio. _Strange newes from Shadwell, being a ... relation of the death of Alice Fowler, who had for many years been accounted a witch._ London, 1685. 4 pp. In the library of the Earl of Crawford. I have not seen it. _A True Account of a Strange and Wonderful Relation of one John Tonken, of Pensans in Cornwall, said to be Bewitched by some Women: two of which on Suspition are committed to Prison_, London, 1686. In the Bodleian. This narrative is confirmed by Inderwick's records. _News from Panier Alley; or a True Relation of Some Pranks the Devil hath lately play'd with a Plaster Pot there_, London, 1687. In the Bodleian. A curious tract. No trial. § 7.--The Final Decline, Miscellaneous Pamphlets (see ch. XIII). _A faithful narrative of the ... fits which ... Thomas Spatchet ... was under by witchcraft ..., 1693._ Unimportant. _The Second Part of the Boy of Bilson, Or a True and Particular Relation of the Imposter Susanna Fowles, wife of John Fowles of Hammersmith in the Co. of Midd., who pretended herself to be possessed_, London, 1698. _A Full and True Account Both of the Life: And also the Manner and Method of carrying on the Delusions, Blasphemies, and Notorious Cheats of Susan Fowls, as the same was Contrived, Plotted, Invented, and Managed by wicked Popish Priests and other Papists._ _The trial of Susannah Fowles, of Hammersmith, for blaspheming Jesus Christ, and cursing the Lord's Prayer ..._, London, 1698. These three pamphlets tell the story of a woman who was "an impostor and Notorious Lyar"; they have little to do with witchcraft. See above, ch. XIII, note 23. _The Case of Witchcraft at Coggeshall, Essex, in the year 1699. Being the Narrative of the Rev. J. Boys, Minister of the Parish._ Printed from his manuscript in the possession of the publisher (A. Russell Smith), London, 1901. _A True and Impartial Account of the Dark and Hellish Power of Witchcraft, Lately Exercised on the Body of the Reverend Mr. Wood, Minister of Bodmyn. In a Letter from a Gentleman there, to his Friend in Exon, in Confirmation thereof_, Exeter, 1700. _A Full and True Account of the Apprehending and Taking of Mrs. Sarah Moordike, Who is accused for a Witch, Being taken near Paul's Wharf ... for haveing Bewitched one Richard Hetheway.... With her Examination before the Right Worshipful Sir Thomas Lane, Sir Owen Buckingham, and Dr. Hambleton in Bowe-lane._ 1701. This account can be verified and filled out from the records of the trial of Hathaway, printed in Howell, _State Trials_, XIV, 639-696. _A short Account of the Trial held at Surry Assizes, in the Borough of Southwark; on an Information against Richard Hathway ... for Riot and Assault_, London, 1702. _The Tryal of Richard Hathaway, upon an Information For being a Cheat and Impostor, For endeavouring to take away The Life of Sarah Morduck, For being a Witch at Surry Assizes ..._, London, 1702. _A Full and True Account of the Discovering, Apprehending and taking of a Notorious Witch, who was carried before Justice Bateman in Well-Close on Sunday, July the 23. Together with her Examination and Commitment to Bridewel, Clerkenwel_, London, 1704. Signed at the end, "Tho. Greenwel." Single page. _An Account of the Tryals, Examination, and Condemnation of Elinor Shaw and Mary Phillips ..., 1705._ _The Northamptonshire Witches ..., 1705._ The second of these is the completer account. They are by the same author and are probably fabrications; see below, § 10. _The Whole Trial of Mrs. Mary Hicks and her Daughter Elizabeth ..., 1716._ See below, § 10. § 8.--The Surey Pamphlets (see ch. XIII). _The Devil Turned Casuist, or the Cheats of Rome Laid open in the Exorcism of a Despairing Devil at the House of Thomas Pennington in Oriel.... By Zachary Taylor, M. A., Chaplain to the Right reverend Father in God, Nicholas, Lord Bishop of Chester, and Rector of Wigan_, London, 1696. _The Surey Demoniack, Or an Account of Satan's Strange and Dreadful Actings, In and about the Body of Richard Dugdale of Surey, near Whalley in Lancashire. And How he was Dispossest by Gods blessing on the Fastings and Prayers of divers Ministers and People_, London, 1697. Fishwick, _Notebook of Jollie_ (Chetham Soc.), p. xxiv says this was written by Thomas Jollie and John Carrington. The preface is signed by "Thomas Jolly" and five other clergymen. Probably Jollie wrote the pamphlet and Carrington revised it. See above, ch. XIII, note 10. Jollie disclaimed the sole responsibility for it. See his _Vindication_, 7. Taylor in _The Surey Impostor_ assumes that Carrington wrote _The Surey Demoniack_; see _e. g._ p. 21. _The Surey Imposter, being an answer to a late Fanatical Pamphlet, entituled The Surey Demoniack._ By Zachary Taylor. London, 1697. _A Vindication of the Surey Demoniack as no Imposter: Or, A Reply to a certain Pamphlet publish'd by Mr. Zach. Taylor, called The Surey Imposter...._ By T. J., London, 1698. Written by Jollie. _Popery, Superstition, Ignorance and Knavery very unjustly by a letter in the general pretended; but as far as was charg'd very fully proved upon the Dissenters that were concerned in the Surey Imposture._ 1698. Written by Zachary Taylor. _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked, or a Vindication of the Dissenters from Popery, Superstition, Ignorance, and Knavery, unjustly Charged on them by Mr. Zachary Taylor...._ London, 1698. Signed "N. N.;" see above ch. XIII, note 17. _The Lancashire Levite Rebuked, or a Farther Vindication_, 1698. This seems to have been an answer to a "letter to Mr. N. N." which Taylor had published. We have, however, no other mention of such a letter. _Popery, Superstition, Ignorance, and Knavery, Confess'd and fully Proved on the Surey Dissenters, from a Second Letter of an Apostate Friend, to Zach. Taylor. To which is added a Refutation of T. Jollie's Vindication ..._, London, 1699. Written by Zachary Taylor. _A Refutation of Mr. T. Jolly's Vindication of the Devil in Dugdale; Or, The Surey Demoniack_, London, 1699. It is not worth while to give any critical appraisement of these pamphlets. They were all controversial and all dealt with the case of Richard Dugdale. Zachary Taylor had the best of it. The Puritan clergymen who backed up Thomas Jollie in his claims seem gradually to have withdrawn their support. § 9.--The Wenham Pamphlets (see ch. XIII). _An Account of the Tryal, Examination, and Condemnation of Jane Wenham, on an Indictment of Witchcraft, for Bewitching of Matthew Gilston and Anne Thorne of Walcorne, in the County of Hertford.... Before the Right Honourable Mr. Justice Powell, and is ordered for Execution on Saturday come Sevennight the 15th._ One page. _A Full and Impartial Account of the Discovery of Sorcery and Witchcraft, Practis'd by Jane Wenham of Walkerne in Hertfordshire, upon the bodies of Anne Thorn, Anne Street, &c.... till she ... receiv'd Sentence of Death for the same, March 4, 1711-12_, London, 1712. Anonymous, but confessedly written by Francis Bragge. 1st ed. in Cornell library and Brit. Mus.; 2d ed. in Brit. Mus.; 3d ed. in Brit. Mus. (Sloane, 3,943), and Bodleian; 4th ed. in Brit. Mus.; 5th ed. in Harvard library: all published within the year. _Witchcraft Farther Display'd. Containing (I) An Account of the Witchcraft practis'd by Jane Wenham of Walkerne, in Hertfordshire, since her Condemnation, upon the bodies of Anne Thorne and Anne Street.... (II) An Answer to the most general Objections against the Being and Power of Witches: With some Remarks upon the Case of Jane Wenham in particular, and on Mr. Justice Powel's procedure therein...._ London, 1712. Introduction signed by "F. B." [Francis Bragge], who was the author. _A Full Confutation of Witchcraft: More particularly of the Depositions against Jane Wenham, Lately Condemned for a Witch; at Hertford. In which the Modern Notions of Witches are overthrown, and the Ill Consequences of such Doctrines are exposed by Arguments; proving that, Witchcraft is Priestcraft.... In a Letter from a Physician in Hertfordshire, to his Friend in London._ London, 1712. _The Impossibility of Witchcraft, Plainly Proving, From Scripture and Reason, That there never was a Witch; and that it is both Irrational and Impious to believe there ever was. In which the Depositions against Jane Wenham, Lately Try'd and Condemn'd for a Witch, at Hertford, are Confuted and Expos'd_, London, 1712. 1st ed. in Brit. Mus.; 2d ed., containing additional material, in the Bodleian. The author of this pamphlet in his preface intimates that its substance had earlier been published by him in the _Protestant Post Boy_. _The Belief of Witchcraft Vindicated: proving from Scripture, there have been Witches; and from Reason, that there may be Such still. In answer to a late Pamphlet, Intituled, The Impossibility of Witchcraft ..._, By G. R., A. M., London, 1712. _The Case of the Hertfordshire Witchcraft Consider'd. Being an Examination of a Book entitl'd, A Full and Impartial Account ..._, London, 1712. Dedicated to Sir John Powell. In the Cornell copy of this booklet a manuscript note on the title-page, in an eighteenth century hand, ascribes it to "The Rector of Therfield in Hertfordshire, or his Curate," while at the end of the dedication what seems the same hand has signed the names, "Henry Stebbing or Thomas Sherlock." But Stebbing was in 1712 still a fellow at Cambridge, and Sherlock, later Bishop of London, was Master of the Temple and Chaplain to Queen Anne. See _Dict. Nat. Biog._ _A Defense of the Proceedings against Jane Wenham, wherein the Possibility and Reality of Witchcraft are Demonstrated from Scripture.... In Answer to Two Pamphlets, Entituled: (I) The Impossibility of Witchcraft, etc. (II) A Full Confutation of Witchcraft_, By Francis Bragge, A. B., ... London, 1712. _The Impossibility of Witchcraft Further Demonstrated, Both from Scripture and Reason ... with some Cursory Remarks on two trifling Pamphlets in Defence of the existence of Witches_. By the Author of _The Impossibility of Witchcraft_, 1712. In the Bodleian. _Jane Wenham_. Broadside. The writer of this leaflet claims to have transcribed his account from an account in "Judge Chancy's own hand". Chauncy was the justice of the peace who with Bragge stood behind the prosecution. It is very hard to straighten out the authorship of these various pamphlets. The Rev. Mr. Bragge wrote several. The Rev. Mr. Gardiner and the Rev. Mr. Strutt, who were active in the case, may have written two of them. The topographer Gough, writing about 1780, declared that the late Dr. Stebbing had as a young man participated in the controversy. Francis Hutchinson was an interested spectator, but probably did not contribute to the literature of the subject. A short secondary account is that of W. B. Gerish, _A Hertfordshire Witch; or the Story of Jane Wenham, the "Wise Woman of Walkern_." In the Brit. Mus., Sloane MSS., 3,943, there is a continuation of the pamphlet discussion, based chiefly, however, upon Glanvill and other writers. § 10.--Criticism of the Northampton and Huntingdon Pamphlets of 1705 and 1716 (see ch. XIII, note 10). _An Account of The Tryals, Examination and Condemnation of Elinor Shaw and Mary Phillips (Two notorious Witches) on Wednesday the 7th of March 1705, for Bewitching a Woman, and two children.... With an Account of their strange Confessions._ This is signed, at the end, "Ralph Davis, March 8, 1705." It was followed very shortly by a completer account, written after the execution, and entitled: _The Northamptonshire Witches, Being a true and faithful account of the Births, Educations, Lives, and Conversations of Elinor Shaw and Mary Phillips (The two notorious Witches) That were Executed at Northampton on Saturday, March the 17th, 1705 ... with their full Confession to the Minister, and last Dying Speeches at the place of Execution, the like never before heard of.... Communicated in a Letter last Post, from Mr. Ralph Davis of Northampton, to Mr. William Simons, Merchantt in London_, London, 1705. With these two pamphlets we wish to compare another, which was apparently published in 1716 and was entitled: _The Whole Trial and Examination of Mrs. Mary Hicks and her Daughter Elizabeth, But of Nine Years of Age, who were Condemn'd the last Assizes held at Huntingdon for Witchcraft, and there Executed on Saturday, the 28th of July 1716 ... the like never heard before; their Behaviour with several Divines who came to converse with 'em whilst under their sentence of Death; and last Dying Speeches and Confession at the place of execution_, London, 1716. There is a copy in the Bodleian Library. The two Northamptonshire pamphlets and the Huntingdonshire pamphlet have been set by themselves because they appear to have been written by one hand. Moreover, it looks very much as if they were downright fabrications foisted upon the public by a man who had already in 1700 made to order an unhistorical pamphlet. To show this, it will be necessary to review briefly the facts about the Worcester pamphlet described above, § 4. What seems to be the second edition of a pamphlet entitled _The full Tryalls, Examinations and Condemnations of Four Notorious Witches, At the Assizes held at Worcester on Tuseday the 4th of March_, was published at London with the date 1700. It purports to tell the story of one of the cases that came up during Matthew Hopkins's career in 1645-1647. It has been universally accepted--even by Thomas Wright, Ashton, W. H. D. Adams, and Inderwick. An examination shows, however, that it was made over from the Chelmsford pamphlet of 1645. The author shows little ingenuity, for he steals not only the confessions of four witches at that trial, but their names as well. Rebecca West, Margaret Landis, Susan Cock, and Rose Hallybread had all been hanged at Chelmsford and could hardly have been rehanged at Worcester. Practically all that the writer of the Worcester pamphlet did was to touch over the confessions and add thrilling details about their executions. Now, it looks very much as if the same writer had composed the Northamptonshire pamphlets of 1705 and the Huntingdonshire pamphlets of 1716. The verbal resemblances are nothing less than remarkable. The Worcester pamphlet, in its title, tells of "their Confessions and Last Dying Speeches at the place of execution." The second of the two Northamptonshire pamphlets (the first was issued before the execution) speaks of "their full Confession to the Minister, and last Dying Speeches at the place of Execution." The Huntingdonshire pamphlet closes the title with "last Dying Speeches and Confession at the place of Execution." The Worcester pamphlet uses the phrase "with other amazing Particulars"; the Northamptonshire pamphlet the phrase "the particulars of their amazing Pranks." The Huntingdon pamphlet has in this case no similar phrase but the Huntingdon and Northamptonshire pamphlets have another phrase in common. The Northamptonshire pamphlet says: "the like never before heard of"; the Huntingdon pamphlet says: "the like never heard before." These resemblances are in the titles. The Northampton and the fabricated Worcester pamphlets show other similarities in their accounts. The Northampton women were so "hardened in their Wickedness that they Publickly boasted that their Master (meaning the Devil) would not suffer them to be Executed but they found him a Lyer." The Worcester writer speaks of the "Devil who told them to the Last that he would secure them from Publick Punishment, but now too late they found him a Lyer as he was from the beginning of the World." In concluding their narratives the Northamptonshire and Worcestershire pamphleteers show an interesting similarity of treatment. The Northampton witches made a "howling and lamentable noise" on receiving their sentences, the Worcester women made a "yelling and howling at their executions." These resemblances may be fairly characterized as striking. If it be asked whether the phrases quoted are not conventional in witch pamphlets, the answer must be in the negative. So far as the writer knows, these phrases occur in no other of the fifty or more witch pamphlets. The word "notorious," which occurs in the titles of the Worcester and Northampton pamphlets, is a common one and would signify nothing. The other phrases mentioned are characteristic and distinctive. This similarity suggests that the three pamphlets were written by the same hand. Since we know that one of the three is a fabrication, we are led to suspect the credibility of the other two. There are, indeed, other reasons for doubting the historicity of these two. A close scrutiny of the Northampton pamphlet shows that the witchcrafts there described have the peculiar characteristics of the witchcrafts in the palmy days of Matthew Hopkins and that the wording of the descriptions is much the same. The Northampton pamphlet tells of a "tall black man," who appeared to the two women. A tall black man had appeared to Rebecca West at Chelmsford in 1645. A much more important point is that the prisoners at Northampton had been watched at night in order to keep their imps from coming in. This night-watching was a process that had never, so far as our records go, been used since the Hopkins alarm, of which it had been the characteristic feature. Were there no other resemblance between the Northampton cases and those at Chelmsford, this similarity would alone lead us to suspect the credibility of the Northampton pamphlet. Unfortunately the indiscreet writer of the Northampton narrative lets other phrases belonging to 1645 creep into his account. When the Northampton women were watched, a "little white thing about the bigness of a Cat" had appeared. But a "white thing about the bignesse of a Cat" had appeared to the watchers at Chelmsford in 1645. This is not all. The Northampton witches are said to have killed their victims by roasting and pricking images, a charge which had once been common, but which, so far as the writer can recall, had not been used since the Somerset cases of 1663. It was a charge very commonly used against the Chelmsford witches whom Matthew Hopkins prosecuted. Moreover the Northampton witches boasted that "their Master would not suffer them to be executed." No Chelmsford witch had made that boast; but Mr. Lowes, who was executed at Bury St. Edmunds (the Bury trial was closely connected with that at Chelmsford, so closely that the writer who had read of one would probably have read of the other), had declared that he had a charm to keep him from the gallows. It will be seen that these are close resemblances both in characteristic features and in wording. But the most perfect resemblance is in a confession. The two Northampton women describing their imps--creatures, by the way, that had figured largely in the Hopkins trials--said that "if the Imps were not constantly imploy'd to do Mischief, they [the witches] had not their healths; but when they were imploy'd they were very Heathful and Well." This was almost exactly what Anne Leech had confessed at Chelmsford. Her words were: "And that when This Examinant did not send and employ them abroad to do mischief, she had not her health, but when they were imploy'd, she was healthfull and well." We cannot point out the same similarity between the Huntingdonshire witchcrafts of 1716 and the Chelmsford cases. The narrative of the Huntingdon case is, however, somewhat remarkable. Mr. Hicks was taking his nine-year-old daughter to Ipswich one day, when she, seeing a sail at sea, took a "basin of water," stirred it up, and thereby provoked a storm that was like to have sunk the ship, had not the father made the child cease. On the way home, the two passed a "very fine Field of Corn." "Quoth the child again, 'Father, I can consume all this Corn in the twinkling of an Eye.' The Father supposing it not in her Power to do so, he bid to shew her infernal skill." The child did so, and presently "all the Corn in the Field became Stubble." He questioned her and found that she had learned witchcraft from her mother. The upshot of it was that at Mr. Hicks's instance his wife and child were prosecuted and hanged. The story has been called remarkable. Yet it is not altogether unique. In 1645 at Bury St. Edmunds just after the Chelmsford trial there were eighteen witches condemned, and one of them, it will be remembered, was Parson Lowes of Brandeston in Suffolk, who confessed that "he bewitched a ship near Harwidge; so that with the extreme tempestuous Seas raised by blusterous windes the said ship was cast away, wherein were many passengers, who were by this meanes swallowed up by the merciless waves." It will be observed that the two stories are not altogether similar. The Huntingdon narrative is a better tale, and it would be hardly safe to assert that it drew its inspiration from the earlier story. Yet, when it is remembered how unusual is the story in English witch-lore, the supposition gains in probability. There is a further resemblance in the accounts. The Hicks child had bewitched a field of corn. One of the Bury witches, in the narrative which tells of parson Lowes, "confessed that She usually bewitcht standing corne, whereby there came great loss to the owners thereof." The resemblance is hardly close enough to merit notice in itself. When taken, however, in connection with the other resemblances it gives cumulative force to the supposition that the writer of the Huntingdon pamphlet had gone to the narratives of the Hopkins cases for his sources. There are, however, other reasons for doubting the Huntingdon story. A writer in _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, V, 503-504, long ago questioned the narrative because of the mention of a "Judge Wilmot," and showed that there was no such judge on the bench before 1755. An examination of the original pamphlet makes it clear, however, that in this form the objection is worth nothing. The tract speaks only of a "_Justice_ Wilmot," who, from the wording of the narrative, would seem to have conducted the examination preliminary to the assizes as a justice of the peace would. A justice of the peace would doubtless, however, have belonged to some Huntingdonshire county family. Now, the writer has searched the various records and histories of Huntingdonshire--unfortunately they are but too few--and among the several hundred Huntingdonshire names he has found no Wilmots (and, for that matter, no Hickes either). This would seem to make the story more improbable. In an earlier number of _Notes and Queries_ (1st series, V, 514), James Crossley, whose authority as to matters relating to witchcraft is of the highest, gives cogent reasons why the Huntingdonshire narrative could not be true. He recalls the fact that Hutchinson, who made a chronological table of cases, published his work in 1718. Now Hutchinson had the help of two chief-justices, Parker and King, and of Chief-Baron Bury in collecting his cases; and yet he says that the last execution for the crime in England was in 1682. Crossley makes the further strong point that the case of Jane Wenham in 1712 attracted wide attention and was the occasion of numerous pamphlets. "It is scarcely possible," he continues, "that in four years after two persons, one only nine years old, ... should have been tried and executed for witchcraft without public attention being called to the circumstance." He adds that neither the _Historical Register_ for 1716 nor the files of two London newspapers for that year, though they enumerate other convictions on the circuit, record the supposed cases. It will be seen that exactly the same arguments apply to the Northampton trials of 1705. Hutchinson had been at extraordinary pains to find out not only about Jane Wenham, but about the Moordike case of 1702. It is inconceivable that he should have quite overlooked the execution of two women at Northampton. We have observed that the Northampton, Huntingdon, and Worcester pamphlets have curious resemblances in wording to one another (resemblances that point to a common authorship), that the Worcester narrative can be proved to be fictitious, and that the Huntingdon narrative almost certainly belongs in the same category. We have shown, further, that the Northampton and Huntingdon stories present features of witchcraft characteristic of the Chelmsford and Bury cases of 1645, from the first of which the material of the Worcester pamphlet is drawn; and this fact points not only to the common authorship of the three tracts, but to the imaginary character of the Huntingdon and Northampton cases. Against these facts there is to be presented what at first blush seems a very important piece of evidence. In the _Northamptonshire Historical Collections_, 1st series (Northampton, 1896), there is a chapter on witchcraft in Northamptonshire, copied from the _Northamptonshire Handbook_ for 1867. That chapter goes into the trials of 1705 in detail, making copious extracts from the pamphlets. In a footnote the writers say: "To show that the burning actually took place in 1705, it may be important to mention that there is an item of expense entered in the overseers' accounts for St. Giles parish for faggots bought for the purpose." This in itself seems convincing. It seems to dispose of the whole question at once. There is, however, one fact that instantly casts a doubt upon this seemingly conclusive evidence. In England, witches were hanged, not burned. There are not a half-dozen recorded exceptions to this rule. Mother Lakeland in 1645 was burned. That is easy to explain. Mother Lakeland had by witchcraft killed her husband. Burning was the method of execution prescribed by English law for a woman who killed her husband. The other cases where burnings are said to have taken place were almost certainly cases that came under this rule. But it does not seem possible that the Northampton cases came under the rule. The two women seem to have had no husbands. "Ralph Davis," the ostensible writer of the account, who professed to have known them from their early years, and who was apparently glad to defame them in every possible way, accused them of loose living, but not of adultery, as he would certainly have done, had he conceived of them as married. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that they could not have been burned. There is a more decisive answer to this argument for the authenticity of the pamphlet. The supposed confirmation of it in the St. Giles parish register is probably a blunder. The Reverend R. M. Serjeantson of St. Peter's Rectory has been kind enough to examine for the writer the parish register of St. Giles Church. He writes: "The St. Giles accounts briefly state that _wood_ was bought from time to time--probably for melting the lead. There is _no_ mention of _faggots_ nor witches in the Church wardens' overseers-for-the-poor accounts. I carefully turned out the whole contents of the parish chest." Mr. Serjeantson adds at the close this extract: "1705 P'd for wood 5/ For taking up the old lead 5/." It goes without saying that Mr. Serjeantson's examination does not prove that there never was a mention of the faggots bought for burning witches; but, when all the other evidence is taken into consideration, this negative evidence does establish a very strong presumption to that effect. Certainly the supposed passage from the overseers' accounts can no longer be used to confirm the testimony of the pamphlet. It looks very much as if the compilers of the _Northamptonshire Handbook_ for 1867 had been careless in their handling of records. It seems probable, then, that the pamphlet of 1705 dealing with the execution of Mary Phillips and Elinor Shaw is a purely fictitious narrative. The matter derives its importance from the fact that, if the two executions in 1705 be disproved, the last known execution in England is put back to 1682, ten years before the Salem affair in Massachusetts. This would of course have some bearing on a recent contention (G. L. Kittredge, "Notes on Witchcraft," Am. Antiq. Soc., _Proc._, XVIII), that "convictions and executions for witchcraft occurred in England after they had come to an end in Massachusetts." B.--LIST OF PERSONS SENTENCED TO DEATH FOR WITCHCRAFT DURING THE REIGN OF JAMES I. 1.--Charged with Causing Death. 1603. Yorkshire. Mary Pannel. 1606. Hertford. Johanna Harrison and her daughter. 1612. Northampton. Helen Jenkinson, Arthur Bill, Mary Barber. 1612. Lancaster. Chattox, Eliz. Device, James Device, Alice Nutter, Katherine Hewitt, Anne Redfearne. 1612. York. Jennet Preston. 1613. Bedford. Mother Sutton and Mary Sutton. 1616. Middlesex. Elizabeth Rutter. 1616. Middlesex. Joan Hunt. 1619. Lincoln. Margaret and Philippa Flower. 1621. Edmonton. Elizabeth Sawyer. 2.--Not Charged with Causing Death (so far as shown by records). 1607. Rye, Kent. Two women entertained spirits, "to gain wealth." 1612. Lancaster. John and Jane Bulcock, making to waste away. It was testified against them that at Malking Tower they consented to murder, but this was apparently not in the indictment. Acquitted, but later convicted. Alizon Device, caused to waste away. Isabel Robey, caused illness. 1616. Enfield, Middlesex. Agnes Berrye, laming and causing to languish. 1616. King's Lynn. Mary Smith, hanged for causing four people to languish. 1616. Leicester. Nine women hanged for bewitching a boy. Six more condemned on same charge, but pardoned by command of king. Mixed Cases. 1607. Bakewell. Our evidence as to the Bakewell witches is too incomplete to assure us that they were not accused of killing by witchcraft. 1612. Northampton. Agnes Brown and Joane Vaughan were indicted for bewitching Master Avery and Mistress Belcher, "together with the body of a young child to the death." C.--LIST OF CASES OF WITCHCRAFT, 1558-1718, WITH REFERENCES TO SOURCES AND LITERATURE.[1] 1558. John Thirkle, "taylour, detected of conjuringe," to be examined. _Acts of Privy Council_, n. s., VII, 6. ---- Several persons in London charged with conjuration to be sent to the Bishop of London for examination. _Ibid._, 22. 1559. Westminster. Certain persons examined on suspicion, including probably Lady Frances Throgmorton. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1547-1580_, 142. c. 1559. Lady Chandos's daughter accused and imprisoned with George Throgmorton. Brit Mus., Add. MSS., 32,091, fol. 176. 1560. Kent. Mother Buske of St. John's suspected by the church authorities. Visitations of Canterbury in _Archæologia Cantiana_, XXVI, 31. 1561. Coxe, alias Devon, a Romish priest, examined for magic and conjuration, and for celebrating mass. Cal. St. _P., Dom., 1547-1580_, 173. ---- London. Ten men brought before the queen and council on charge of "trespass, contempt, conjuration and sorceries." Punished with the pillory and required to renounce such practices for the future. From an extract quoted in Brit. Mus., Sloane MSS., 3,943, fol. 19. 1565. Dorset. Agnes Mondaye to be apprehended for bewitching Mistress Chettell. _Acts P. C._, n. s., VII, 200-201. 1565-1573. Durham. Jennet Pereson accused to the church authorities. _Depositions ... from ... Durham_ (Surtees Soc.), 99. 1566. Chelmsford, Essex. Mother Waterhouse hanged; Alice Chandler hanged, probably at this time; Elizabeth Francis probably acquitted. _The examination and confession of certaine Wytches at Chensforde._ For the cases of Elizabeth Francis and Alice Chandler see also _A detection of damnable driftes,_ A iv, A v, verso. ---- Essex. "Boram's wief" probably examined by the archdeacon. W. H. Hale, _A Series of Precedents and Proceedings in Criminal Causes, 1475-1640, extracted from the Act Books of Ecclesiastical Courts in the Diocese of London_ (London, 1847), 147. 1569. Lyme, Dorset. Ellen Walker accused. Roberts, _Southern Counties_, 523. 1570. Essex. Malter's wife of Theydon Mount and Anne Vicars of Navestock examined by Sir Thomas Smith. John Strype, _Life of Sir Thomas Smith_ (ed. of Oxford, 1820), 97-100. 1570-1571. Canterbury. Several witches imprisoned. Mother Dungeon presented by the grand jury. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, IX, pt. 1, 156 b; Wm. Welfitt, "Civis," _Minutes collected from the Ancient Records of Canterbury_ (Canterbury, 1801-1802), no. VI. ---- ---- Folkestone, Kent. Margaret Browne, accused of "unlawful practices," banished from town for seven years, and to be whipped at the cart's tail if found within six or seven miles of town. S. J. Mackie, _Descriptive and Historical Account of Folkestone_ (Folkestone, 1883), 319. 1574. Westwell, Kent. "Old Alice" [Norrington?] arraigned and convicted. Reginald Scot, _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 130-131. ---- Middlesex. Joan Ellyse of Westminster convicted on several indictments for witchcraft and sentenced to be hanged. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 84. c. 1574. Jane Thorneton accused by Rachel Pinder, who however confessed to fraud. _Discloysing of a late counterfeyted possession._ 1575. Burntwood, Staffordshire. Mother Arnold hanged at Barking. From the title of a pamphlet mentioned by Lowndes: _The Examination and Confession of a notorious Witch named Mother Arnold, alias Whitecote, alias Glastonbury, at the Assise of Burntwood in July, 1574; who was hanged for Witchcraft at Barking, 1575._ Mrs. Linton, Witch Stories, 153, says that many were hanged at this time, but I cannot find authority for the statement. ---- Middlesex. Elizabeth Ducke of Harmondsworth acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 94. ---- Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. Katharine Smythe acquitted. Henry Harrod, "Notes on the Records of the Corporation of Great Yarmouth," in _Norfolk Archæology_, IV, 248. 1577. Seaford, Sussex. Joan Wood presented by the grand jury. M. A. Lower, "Memorials of Seaford," in Sussex Archæological Soc., _Collections_, VII, 98. ---- Middlesex. Helen Beriman of Laleham acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 103. ---- Essex. Henry Chittam of Much Barfield to be tried for coining false money and conjuring. _Acts P. C._, n. s., IX, 391; X, 8, 62. 1578. Prescall, Sanford, and "one Emerson, a preiste," suspected of conjuration against the queen. The first two committed. _Id._, X, 382; see also 344, 373. ---- Evidence of the use of sorcery against the queen discovered. _Cal. St. P., Spanish, 1568-1579_, 611; see also note to Ben Jonson's _Masque of Queenes_ (London, Shakespeare Soc., 1848), 71. ---- Sussex. "One Tree, bailiff of Lewes, and one Smith of Chinting" to be examined. _Acts P. C._, n. s., X, 220. 1579. Chelmsford, Essex. Three women executed. Mother Staunton released because "no manslaughter objected against her." _A Detection of damnable driftes._ ---- Abingdon, Berks. Four women hanged; at least two others and probably more were apprehended. _A Rehearsall both straung and true of ... acts committed by Elisabeth Stile ..._; _Acts P. C._, n. s., XI, 22; Scot, _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, 10, 51, 543. ---- Certain persons suspected of sorcery to be examined by the Bishop of London. _Acts P. C._, n. s., XI, 36. ---- Salop, Worcester, and Montgomery. Samuel Cocwra paid for "searching for certen persons suspected for conjuracion." _Ibid._, 292. ---- Southwark. Simon Pembroke, a conjurer, brought to the parish church of St. Saviour's to be tried by the "ordinarie judge for those parties," but falls dead before the opening of the trial. Holinshed, _Chronicles_ (ed. of 1586-1587), III, 1271. ---- Southampton. Widow Walker tried by the leet jury, outcome unknown. J. S. Davies, _History of Southampton_ (Southampton, 1883), 236. 1579-1580. Shropshire. Mother Garve punished in the corn market. Owen and Blakeway, _History of Shrewsbury_, I, 562. 1580. Stanhope, Durham. Ann Emerson accused by the church officials. _Injunctions ... of ... Bishop of Durham_ (Surtees Soc.), 126. ---- Bucks. John Coleman and his wife examined by four justices of the peace at the command of the privy council. They were probably released. _Acts P. C._, n. s., XI, 427; XII, 29. ---- Kent. Several persons to be apprehended for conjuration. _Id._, XII, 21-23. ---- Somerset. Henry Harrison and Thomas Wadham, suspected of conjuration, to appear before the privy council. _Ibid._, 22-23. ---- Somerset. Henry Fize of Westpenner, detected in conjuration, brought before the privy council. _Ibid._, 34. ---- Essex. "Sondery persones" charged with sorceries and conjuration. _Acts P. C._, XII, 29, 34. 1581. Randoll and four others accused for "conjuring to know where treasure was hid in the earth." Randoll and three others found guilty. Randoll alone executed. Holinshed, _Chronicles_ (London, 1808), IV, 433. 1581. Padstow, Cornwall. Anne Piers accused of witchcraft. Examination of witnesses. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1581-1590_, 29. See also _Acts P. C._, n. s., XIII, 228. 1581. Rochester, Kent. Margaret Simmons acquitted. Scot, _Discoverie_, 5. 1581-82. Colchester, Essex. Annis Herd accused before the "spiritual Courte." _Witches taken at St. Oses_, 1582. 1582. St. Osyth, Essex. Sixteen accused, one of whom was a man. How many were executed uncertain. It seems to have been a tradition that thirteen were executed. Scot wrote that seventeen or eighteen were executed. _Witches taken at St. Oses_, 1582; Scot, _Discoverie_, 543. 1582 (or before). "T. E., Maister of Art and practiser both of physicke, and also in times past, of certeine vaine sciences," condemned for conjuration, but reprieved. Scot, _Discoverie_, 466-469. 1582. Middlesex. Margery Androwes of Clerkenwell held in bail. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 133. 1582. Durham. Alison Lawe of Hart compelled to do penance. _Denham Tracts_ (Folk-Lore Soc.), II, 332. 1582. Kent. Goodwife Swane of St. John's suspected by the church authorities. _Archæol. Cant._, XXVI, 19. 1582-83. Nottingham. A certain Batte examined before the "Meare" of Nottingham. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XII, pt. 4, 147. 1582-83. King's Lynn. Mother Gabley probably hanged. Excerpt from parish register of Wells in Norfolk, in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, LXII (1792), 904. 1583. Kingston-upon-Hull, Yorkshire. Three women tried, one sentenced to a year's imprisonment and the pillory. J. J. Sheahan, _History of Kingston-upon-Hull_ (London, 1864), 86. 1583. Colchester, Essex. Two women sentenced to a year in prison and to four appearances in the pillory. E. L. Cutts, Colchester (London, 1888), 151. Henry Harrod, _Report on the Records of Colchester_ (Colchester, 1865), 17; App., 14. 1583. St. Peter's, Kent. Ellen Bamfield suspected by the church authorities. _Archæol. Cant._, XXVI, 45. 1584. Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. Elizabeth Butcher (punished before) and Joan Lingwood condemned to be hanged. C. J. Palmer, _History of Great Yarmouth_, I, 273. 1584. Staffordshire. An indictment preferred against Jeffrey Leach. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1581-1590_, 206. 1584. "The oulde witche of Ramsbury" and several other "oulde witches and sorcerers" suspected. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1581-1590_, 220. 1584. York. Woman, indicted for witchcraft and "high treason touching the supremacy," condemned. _Cal. St. P., Dom., Add. 1580-1625_, 120-121. 1584. Middlesex. Elizabeth Bartell of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 145. 1585. Middlesex. Margaret Hackett of Stanmore executed. From titles of two pamphlets mentioned by Lowndes, _The severall Facts of Witchcrafte approved on Margaret Haskett ..._ 1585, and _An Account of Margaret Hacket, a notorious Witch ..._ 1585. 1585. Middlesex. Joan Barringer of "Harroweelde" (Harrow Weald) acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 157. 1585. Dorset. John Meere examined. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1581-90_, 246-247. 1585-86. Alnwick, Northumberland. Two men and two women committed to prison on suspicion of killing a sheriff. _Denham Tracts_, II, 332; _Cal. S. P., Dom., Add. 1580-1625_, 168. 1586. Eckington, Derbyshire. Margaret Roper accused. Discharged. Harsnett, _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel_, 310. 1586. Faversham, Kent. Jone Cason [Carson] tried before the mayor, executed. Holinshed, _Chronicles_ (1586-1587), III, 1560. 1587. Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. Helena Gill indicted. C. J. Palmer, _History of Great Yarmouth_, 273. H. Harrod in _Norfolk Archæology_, IV, 248, assigns this to 1597, but it is probably a mistake. c. 1588. A woman at R. H. said to have been imprisoned and to have died before the assizes. Gifford, _Dialogue_ (London, 1603), C. 1589. Chelmsford, Essex. Three women hanged. _The apprehension and confession of three notorious Witches._ 1589. Several persons to be examined about their dealings in conjuration with an Italian friar. _Acts P. C._, n. s., XVII, 31-32. 1589. Mrs. Deir brought into question for sorcery against the queen. Charge dismissed. Strype, _Annals of the Reformation_ (London, 1709-1731), IV, 7-8. 1590. Mrs. Dewse suspected of attempting to make use of conjurors. _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1581-1590, 644. 1590. John Bourne, a "sorcerer and seducer," arrested. _Acts P. C._, n. s., XVIII, 373. 1590. Berwick. A Scottish witch imprisoned. John Scott, _History of Berwick_ (London, 1888), 180; _Archæologia_, XXX, 172. 1590. Norfolk. Margaret Grame accused before justice of the peace. Neighbors petition in her behalf. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, II, 243-244. 1590. King's Lynn. Margaret Read burnt. Benjamin Mackerell, _History and Antiquities ... of King's Lynn_, (London, 1738), 231. 1590. Edmonton, Middlesex. Certain men taken for witchcraft and conjuring. Bloodhound used in pursuit of them. _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1581-1590, 689. 1590-91. Hertfordshire. Indictment of Joan White for killing. _Hertfordshire County Session Rolls_, I, 4. 1591. John Prestall suspected. _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1591-1594, 17-19. 1591. Middlesex. Stephen Trefulback of Westminster given penalty of statute, _i. e._, probably pillory. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 197. 1592. Colchester, Essex. Margaret Rand indicted by grand jury. Brit. Mus., Stowe MSS., 840, fol. 42. 1592. Yorkshire. "Sara B. de C." examined. West, _Symboleography_, pt. II (London, 1594), ed. of 1611, fol. 134 verso (reprinted in _County Folk-Lore_, Folk-Lore Soc., 135). Whether the "S. B. de C. in comit. H." whose indictment in the same year is printed also by West may possibly be the same woman can not be determined. 1592. Yorkshire. Margaret L. de A. examined. _Ibid._ 1593. Warboys, Huntingdonshire. Mother, daughter and father Samuel executed. _The most strange and admirable discoverie of the three Witches of Warboys._ 1593. See also John Darrel, _A Detection of that sinnful ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 20-21, 39-40, 110. Harsnett, _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel_, 93, 97. 1594. Jane Shelley examined for using sorcerers to find the time of the queen's death. _Hist. MSS. Comm., Cecil._, pt. V, 25. 1595. St. Peter's Kent. Two women presented by the church authorities. Still suspected in 1599. _Archæol. Cant._, XXVI, 46. 1595. Woodbridge, Suffolk. Witches put in the pillory. _County Folk-Lore, Suffolk_ (Folk-Lore Soc., London, 1895), 193. 1595. Jane Mortimer pardoned for witchcraft. Bodleian, Tanner MSS., CLXVIII, fol. 29. 1595. Near Bristol, Somerset. Severall committed for the Earl of Derby's death. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, IV, app., 366 b. See also E. Baines's _Lancaster_ (London, 1870), 273-274 and note. 1595. Barnet and Braynford, Herts. Three witches executed. From title of pamphlet mentioned by Lowndes, _The Arraignment and Execution of 3 detestable Witches, John Newell, Joane his wife, and Hellen Calles: two executed at Barnett and one at Braynford_, 1 Dec. 1595. 1596 (or before). Derbyshire. Elizabeth Wright (mother of Alice Gooderidge) several times summoned before the justice of the peace on suspicion. _The most wonderfull and true Storie of ... Alse Gooderidge_ (1597). 1596. Burton-upon-Trent, Derbyshire. Alice Gooderidge tried at Derby, convicted. Died in prison. Harsnett, _Discovery of the fraudulent Practises of John Darrel; John Darrel, Detection of that sinnful ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 38, 40; _The most wonderfull and true Storie of ... Alse Gooderidge_ (1597). 1596-1597. Leicester. Mother Cooke hanged. Mary Bateson, _Records of the Borough of Leicester_ (Cambridge, 1899), III, 335. 1596-1597. Lancaster. Hartley condemned and executed. John Darrel, _True Narration_ (in the _Somers Tracts_, III), 175, 176; George More, _A True Discourse concerning the certaine possession ... of 7 persons ... in Lancashire_, 18-22; John Darrel, _Detection of that sinnful ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 40. 1597. Nottingham. Thirteen or more accused by Somers, at least eight of whom were put in gaol. All but two discharged. Alice Freeman tried at the assizes and finally acquitted. John Darrel, _Detection of that sinnful ... discours of Samuel Harshnet_, 109-111; _An Apologie or defence of the possession of William Sommers_, L-L 3; Samuel Harsnett, _Discovery of the Fraudulent Practises of John Darrel_, 5, 102, 140-141, 320-322. 1597. St. Lawrence, Kent. Sibilla Ferris suspected by the church authorities. _Archæol. Cant._, XXVI, 12. 1597. Nottingham. William Somers accused of witchcraft as a ruse to get him into the house of correction. Darrel, _A True Narration of the ... Vexation ... of seven persons in Lancashire_, in _Somers Tracts_, III, 184; also his _Brief Apologie_ (1599), 17. 1597. Yorkshire. Elizabeth Melton of Collingham condemned, pardoned. _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1595-1597, 400. 1597. Lancashire. Alice Brerely of Castleton condemned, pardoned. _Ibid._, 406. 1597. Middlesex. Agnes Godfrey of Enfield held by the justice of the peace on £10 bail. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 237. 1597. St. Andrew's in Holborne, Middlesex. Josia Ryley arraigned. "Po se mortuus in facie curie," _i. e._ _Posuit se moriturum._ _Ibid._, 225. 1597. Middlesex. Helen Spokes of St. Giles-in-the-Fields acquitted. _Ibid._, 239. 1598. Berwick. Richard Swynbourne's wife accused. John Scott, _History of Berwick_ (London, 1888), 180. 1598. St. Peter's, Kent. Two women suspected by the church officials; one of them presented again the next year. _Archæol. Cant._, XXVI, 46. 1598. King's Lynn. Elizabeth Housegoe executed. Mackerell, _History and Antiquities of King's Lynn_, 232. 1599. Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk. Jone Jordan of Shadbrook tried. Darrel, _A Survey of Certaine Dialogical Discourses_, 54. 1599. Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk. Joane Nayler tried. _Ibid._ 1599. Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk. Oliffe Bartham of Shadbrook executed. _The Triall of Maist. Dorrel_, 92-98. 1599. London. Anne Kerke of Bokes-wharfe executed at "Tiburn." _The Triall of Maist. Dorrel_, 99-103. 1600. Hertford. A "notable witch" committed to the gaol at Hertford. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Cecil MSS._, pt. X, 310. 1600. Rosa Bexwell pardoned. Bodleian, Tanner MSS., CLXVIII, fol. 104. 1600. Norfolk. Margaret Fraunces committed for a long time. Probably released by justice of the peace on new evidence. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, X, pt. II (Gawdy MSS.), 71. See also below, pp. 400, 401. 1600. Ipswich, Suffolk. Several conjurers suspected. _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1598-1601, 523. 1601. Bishop Burton, York. Two women apprehended for bewitching a boy. Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 32,496, fol. 42 b. 1601. Middlesex. Richard Nelson of St. Katharine's arraigned. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 260. 1601. Nottingham. Ellen Bark presented at the sessions. _Records of the Borough of Nottingham_, IV, 260-261. 1602. Middlesex. Elizabeth Roberts of West Drayton indicted on three charges, acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, I, 212. 1602. Saffron Walden, Essex. Alice Bentley tried before the quarter sessions. Case probably dismissed. Darrel, _A Survey of Certaine Dialogical Discourses_, 54. temp. Eliz. Northfleet, Kent. Pardon to Alice S. for bewitching a cow and pigs. Bodleian, Rawlinson MSS., C 404, fol. 205 b. temp. Eliz. Woman condemned to prison and pillory. Gifford, _Dialogue concerning Witches_ (1603), L 4 verso. temp. Eliz. Cambridge. Two women perhaps hanged at this time. Henry More, _Antidote to Atheisme_, III. But see 1605, Cambridge. temp. Eliz. Mother W. of W. H. said to have been executed. Gifford, _Dialogue concerning Witches_, D 4 verso--E. temp. Eliz. Mother W. of Great T. said to have been hanged. _Ibid._, C 4. temp. Eliz. Woman said to have been hanged. _Ibid._, L 3-L 3 verso. temp. Eliz. Two women said to have been hanged. _Ibid._, I 3 verso. 1602-1603. London. Elizabeth Jackson sentenced, for bewitching Mary Glover, to four appearances in the pillory and a year in prison. John Swan, _A True and Breife Report of Mary Glover's Vexation_; E. Jorden, _A briefe discourse of ... the Suffocation of the Mother_, 1603; also a MS., _Marie Glover's late woefull case ... upon occasion of Doctor Jordens discourse of the Mother, wherein hee covertly taxeth, first the Phisitiones which judged her sicknes a vexation of Sathan and consequently the sentence of Lawe and proceeding against the Witche who was discovered to be a meanes thereof, with A defence of the truthe against D. J. his scandalous Impugnations_, by Stephen Bradwell, 1603. Brit. Mus., Sloane MSS., 831. An account by Lewis Hughes, appended to his _Certaine Grievances_ (1641-2), is quoted by Sinclar, _Satan's Invisible World Discovered_ (Edinburgh, 1685), 95-100; and hence Burton (_The Kingdom of Darkness_) and Hutchinson (_Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_) assign a wrong date. 1603. Yorkshire. Mary Pannel executed for killing in 1593. Mayhall, _Annals of Yorkshire_ (London, 1878), I, 58. See also E. Fairfax, _A Discourse of Witchcraft_, 179-180. 1603. Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. Ales Moore in gaol on suspicion. C. J. Palmer, _History of Great Yarmouth_, II, 70. 1604. Wooler, Northumberland. Katherine Thompson and Anne Nevelson proceeded against by the Vicar General of the Bishop of Durham. Richardson, _Table Book_, I, 245; J. Raine, _York Depositions_, 127, note. 1605. Cambridge. A witch alarm. Letters of Sir Thomas Lake to Viscount Cranbourne, January 18, 1604/5, and of Sir Edward Coke to Viscount Craybourne, Jan. 29, 1604/5, both in Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 6177, fol. 403. This probably is the affair referred to in _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1603-1610, 218. Nor is it impossible that Henry More had this affair in mind when he told of two women who were executed in Cambridge in the time of Elizabeth (see above, temp. Eliz., Cambridge) and was two or three years astray in his reckoning. 1605. Doncaster, York. Jone Jurdie of Rossington examined. Depositions in _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1857, pt. I, 593-595. 1606. Louth, Lincolnshire. "An Indictment against a Witche." R. W. Goulding, _Louth Old Corporation Records_ (Louth, 1891), 54. 1606. Hertford. Johanna Harrison and her daughter said to have been executed. This rests upon the pamphlet _The Most Cruell and Bloody Murther_, ... See appendix A, § 3. 1606. Richmond, Yorkshire. Ralph Milner ordered by quarter sessions to make his submission at Mewkarr Church. _North Riding Record Society_, I, 58. 1607. Middlesex. Alice Bradley of Hampstead arraigned on four bills, acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, II, 8. 1607. Middlesex. Rose Mersam of Whitecrosse Street acquitted. _Ibid._, II, 20. 1607. Bakewell, Derby. Several women said to have been executed here. See Robert Simpson, _A Collection of Fragments illustrative of the History and Antiquities of Derby_ (Derby, 1826), 90; Glover, _History of Derby_ (ed. Thos. Noble, 1833), pt. I, vol. II, p. 613; J. C. Cox, _Three Centuries of Derbyshire Annals_, II, 88. For what purports to be a detailed account of the affair see W. Andrews, _Bygone Derbyshire_, 180-184. 1607-11. Rye, Sussex. Two women condemned by local authorities probably discharged upon interference from London. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIII, pt. 4, 136-137, 139-140, 147-148. 1608. Simon Read pardoned. _Cal. St. P., Dom._, 1603-1610, 406. 1610. Norfolk. Christian[a] Weech, pardoned in 1604, now again pardoned. _Ibid._, 96, 598. Was this the Christiana Weekes of Cleves Pepper, Wilts, who in 1651 and 1654 was again and again accused of telling where lost goods were? See _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, I, 120. 1610. Middlesex. Agnes Godfrey of Enfield, with four bills against her, acquitted on three, found guilty of killing. File containing sentence lost. _Middlesex County Records_, II, 57-58. Acquitted again in 1621. _Ibid._, 79, 80. 1610. Leicestershire. Depositions taken by the sheriff concerning Randall and other witches. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XII, pt. 4 (_MSS. of the Duke of Rutland_), I, 422. 1611. Carnarvon. Story of witchcraft "committed on six young maids." Privy Council orders the Bishop of Bangor and the assize judges to look into it. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1611-1618_, 53. 1611. Wm. Bate, indicted twenty years before for practising invocation, etc., for finding treasure, pardoned. _Ibid._, 29. 1611. Thirsk, Yorkshire. Elizabeth Cooke presented by quarter sessions for slight crime related to witchcraft. _North Riding Record Soc._, I, 213. 1612. Lancaster. Margaret Pearson, who in 1612 was sentenced to a year's imprisonment and the pillory, had been twice tried before, once for killing, and once for bewitching a neighbor. Potts, _Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches in the countie of Lancaster_ (Chetham Soc., 1845). 1612. Lancaster. Ten persons of Pendle sentenced to death, one to a year's imprisonment; eight acquitted including three women of Salmesbury. Potts, _Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches_, Chetham Soc., 1845. But _cf._ Cooper's words (_Mystery of Witchcraft, 1617_), 15. 1612. York. Jennet Preston sentenced to death. Potts, _Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches_. 1612. Northampton. At least four women and one man hanged. Many others accused, one of whom died in gaol. _The Witches of Northamptonshire_, 1612; also Brit Mus., Sloane MSS., 972, fol. 7. 1613. Bedford. Mother Sutton and Mary Sutton, her daughter, of Milton Miles hanged. _Witches Apprehended, Examined and Executed_, 1613. See app. A, § 3, for mention of another pamphlet on the same subject, _A Booke of the Wytches lately condemned and executed_. See also _The Wonderful Discoverie of ... Margaret and Phillip Flower_, preface, and Richard Bernard, _Guide to Grand Jurymen_, III. 1613. Wilts. Margaret Pilton of Warminster, accused at quarter sessions, probably released. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_, I, 86-87. 1614. Middlesex. Dorothy Magick of St. Andrew's in Holborn sentenced to a year's imprisonment and four appearances in the pillory. _Middlesex County Records_, II, 91, 218. 1615. Middlesex. Joan Hunt of Hampstead, who had been, along with her husband, twice tried and acquitted, and whose accuser had been ordered to ask forgiveness, sentenced to be hanged. _Middlesex County Records_, II, lii, 95, 110, 217-218. 1616. Leicester. Nine women hanged on the accusation of a boy. Six others accused, one of whom died in prison, five released after the king's examination of the boy. Robert Heyrick's letters from Leicester, July 16 and October 15, 1616, reprinted in the _Annual Register_, 1800, p. 405. See also _Cal. S. P., Dom., 1611-1618_, 398, and William Kelly, _Royal Progresses in Leicester_ (Leicester, 1855), pt. II, 15. 1616. King's Lynn, Norfolk. Mary Smith hanged. Alexander Roberts, _Treatise of Witchcraft_ (London, 1616); Mackerell, _History and Antiquities of King's Lynn_, 233. 1616. Middlesex. Elizabeth Rutter of Finchley, for laming and killing three persons, sentenced to be hanged. _Middlesex County Records_, II, 108, 218. 1616. Middlesex. Margaret Wellan of London accused "upon suspition to be a witch." Andrew Camfield held in £40 bail to appear against her. _Middlesex County Records_, II, 124-125. 1617. Middlesex. Agnes Berrye of Enfield sentenced to be hanged. _Ibid._, 116, 219. 1617. Middlesex. Anne Branche of Tottenham arraigned on four counts, acquitted. _Ibid._, 219. 1618. Middlesex. Bridget Meakins acquitted. _Ibid._, 225. 1619. Lincoln. Margaret and Philippa Flower hanged. Their mother, Joan Flower, died on the way to prison. _The Wonderful Discoverie of the Witchcrafts of Margaret and Phillip Flower_; J. Nichols, _History and Antiquities of the County of Leicester_ (1795-1815), II, pt. I, 49; _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1619-1623_, 129; _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Rutland MSS._, IV, 514. 1619. Leicester. Three women, Anne Baker, Joan Willimot, Ellen Green, accused and confessed. Doubtless executed. _The Wonderful Discoverie of the Witchcrafts of Margaret and Phillip Flower_. 1619. Middlesex. Agnes Miller of Finchley acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, II, 143-144. 1620. London. "One Peacock, sometime a schoolmaster and minister," for bewitching the king, committed to the Tower and tortured. Williams, _Court and Times of James I_, II, 202; _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1619-1623_, 125. 1620. Leicester. Gilbert Smith, rector of Swithland, accused of witchcraft among other things. _Leicestershire and Rutland Notes and Queries_, I, 247. 1620. Padiham, Lancashire. Witches in prison. _House and Farm Accounts of the Shuttleworths_, pt. II. (Chetham Soc., 1856), 240. 1620. Staffordshire. Woman accused on charges of the "boy of Bilson" acquitted. _The Boy of Bilson_ (London, 1622); Arthur Wilson, _Life and Reign of James I_, 107-112; Webster, _Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft_, 274-275. 1621. Edmonton, Middlesex. Elizabeth Sawyer hanged. _The wonderfull discoverie of Elizabeth Sawyer_, by Henry Goodcole (1621). 1621. Middlesex. Anne Beaver, accused of murder on six counts, acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, II, 72-73. Acquitted again in 1625. _Ibid._, III, 2. 1622. York. Six women indicted for bewitching Edward Fairfax's children. At April assizes two were released upon bond, two and probably four discharged. At the August assizes they were again acquitted. Fairfax, _A Discourse of Witchcraft_ (Philobiblon Soc., London, 1858-1859). 1622. Middlesex. Margaret Russel, alias "Countess," committed to Newgate by Sir Wm. Slingsby on a charge by Lady Jennings of injuring her daughter. Dr. Napier diagnosed the daughter's illness as epilepsy. Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 36,674, fol. 134. 1623. Yorkshire. Elizabeth Crearey of North Allerton sentenced to be set in the pillory once a quarter. Thirsk Quarter Sessions Records in _North Riding Record Society_ (London, 1885), III, 177, 181. 1624. Bristol. Two witches said to have been executed. John Latimer, _The Annals of Bristol in the Seventeenth Century_ (Bristol, 1900), 91. Latimer quotes from another "annalist." temp. Jac. I? Two women said to have been hanged. Story doubtful. Edward Poeton, _Winnowing of White Witchcraft_ (Brit. Mus., Sloane MSS., 1,954), 41-42. temp. Jac. I. Norfolk. Joane Harvey accused for scratching "an olde witche" there, "Mother Francis nowe deade." Mother Francis had before been imprisoned at Norwich. Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 28,223, fol. 15. temp. Jac. I. Warwickshire. Coventry haunted by "hellish sorcerers." "The pestilent brood" also in Cheshire. Thomas Cooper, _The Mystery of Witchcraft_ (1617),13, 16. temp. Jac. I. Norwich. Witches probably accused for illness of a child. Possibly Mother Francis was one of them. Cooper, _ibid._, "Epistle Dedicatorie." 1626. Taunton, Somerset. Edmund Bull and Joan Greedie accused. Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 36,674, fol. 189; Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery and Magic_, II, 139-143. See also Richard Bernard, _Guide to Grand Jurymen_, "Epistle Dedicatorie." 1627. Durham. Sara Hathericke and Jane Urwen accused before the Consistory Court. _Folk-Lore Journal_ (London, 1887), V, 158. Quoted by Edward Peacock from the records of the Consistory Court of Durham. 1627. Linneston, Lancaster. Elizabeth Londesdale accused. Certificate of neighbors in her favor. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIV, pt. 4 (_Kenyon MSS._), 36. 1628. Leepish, Northumberland. Jane Robson committed. Mackenzie, _History of Northumberland_ (Newcastle, 1825), 36. Mackenzie copies from the Mickleton MS. 1630. Lancaster. A certain Utley said to have been hanged for bewitching Richard Assheton. E. Baines, _Lancaster_ (ed. of 1868-1870), II, 12. 1630. Sandwich, Kent. Woman hanged. Wm. Boys, _Collections for an History of Sandwich in Kent_ (Canterbury, 1792), 707. c. 1630. Wilts. "John Barlowes wife" said to have been executed. MS. letter of 1685-86 printed in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1832, pt. I, 405-410. 1633. Louth, Lincolnshire. Witch alarm; two searchers appointed. One witch indicted. Goulding, _Louth Old Corporation Records_, 54. c. 1633. Lancaster. The father and mother of Mary Spencer condemned. _Cal. S. P., Dom., 1634-1635_, 79. 1633. Norfolk. Woman accused. No arrest made. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, X, pt. 2 (_Gawdy MSS._), p. 144. 1633-34. Lancaster. Several witches, probably seventeen, tried and condemned. Reprieved by the king. For the many references to this affair see above, chap. VII, footnotes. 1634. Yorkshire. Four women of West Ayton presented for telling "per veneficationem vel incantationem" where certain stolen clothes were to be found. Thirsk Quarter Sessions Records in _North Riding Record Society_, IV, 20. 1635. Lancaster. Four witches condemned. Privy Council orders Bishop Bridgeman to examine them. Two died in gaol. The others probably reprieved. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XII, 2 (_Cowper MSS._, II), 77, 80. 1635. Leicester. Agnes Tedsall acquitted. _Leicestershire and Rutland Notes and Queries_, I, 247. 1635. ----. Mary Prowting, who was a plaintiff before the Star Chamber, accused of witchcraft. Accuser, who was one of the defendants, exposed. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1635_, 476-477. c. 1637. Bedford. Goodwife Rose "ducked," probably by officials. Wm. Drage, _Daimonomageia_ (London, 1665), 41. 1637. Staffordshire. Joice Hunniman committed, almost certainly released. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, II, App., 48 b. 1637-38. Lathom, Lancashire. Anne Spencer examined and probably committed. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIV, 4 (_Kenyon MSS._), 55. 1638. Middlesex. Alice Bastard arraigned on two charges. Acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 112-113. 1641. Middlesex. One Hammond of Westminster tried and perhaps hanged. John Aubrey, _Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme_ (Folk-Lore Soc.), 61. temp. Carol I. Oxford. Woman perhaps executed. This story is given at third hand in _A Collection of Modern Relations_ (London, 1693), 48-49. temp. Carol, I. Somerset. One or more hanged. Later the bewitched person, who may have been Edmund Bull (see above, _s. v._ 1626, Taunton), hanged also as a witch. Meric Casaubon, _Of Credulity and Incredulity_ (London, 1668), 170-171. temp. Carol. I? Taunton Dean. Woman acquitted. North, _Life of North_, 131. 1642. Middlesex. Nicholas Culpepper of St. Leonard's, Shoreditch, acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 85. 1643. Newbury, Berks. A woman supposed to be a witch probably shot here by the parliament forces. _A Most certain, strange and true Discovery of a Witch_ ... 1643; _Mercurius Aulicus_, Oct. 1-8, 1643; _Mercurius Civicus_, Sept. 21-28, 1643; _Certaine Informations_, Sept. 25-Oct. 2, 1643; _Mercurius Britannicus_, Oct. 10-17, 1643. 1644. Sandwich, Kent. "The widow Drew hanged for a witch." W. Boys, _Collections for an History of Sandwich_, 714. 1645 (July). Chelmsford, Essex. Sixteen certainly condemned, probably two more. Possibly eleven or twelve more at another assize. _A true and exact Relation ... of ... the late Witches ... at Chelmesford_ (1645); Arthur Wilson, in Peck, _Desiderata Curiosa_, II, 76; Hopkins, _Discovery of Witches_, 2-3; Stearne, _Confirmation and Discovery of Witchcraft_, 14, 16, 36, 38, 58, etc.; _Signes and Wonders from Heaven_ (1645), 2; "R. B." _The Kingdom of Darkness_ (London, 1688). The fate of the several Essex witches is recorded by the _True and Exact Relation_ in marginal notes printed opposite their depositions (but omitted in the reprint of that pamphlet in Howell's _State Trials_). "R. B.," in _The Kingdom of Darkness_, though his knowledge of the Essex cases is ascribed to the pamphlet, gives details as to the time and place of the executions which are often in strange conflict with its testimony. 1645 (July). Norfolk. Twenty witches said to have been executed. Whitelocke, _Memorials_, I, 487. _A Perfect Diurnal_ (July 21-28, 1645) says that there has been a "tryall of the Norfolke witches, about 40 of them and 20 already executed." _Signes and Wonders from Heaven_ says that "there were 40 witches arraigned for their lives and 20 executed." 1645. Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk. Sixteen women and two men executed Aug. 27. Forty or fifty more probably executed a few weeks later. A very large number arraigned. A manuscript (Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 27,402, fol. 104 ff.) mentions over forty true bills and fifteen or more bills not found. _A True Relation of the Araignment of eighteene Witches at St. Edmundsbury_ (1645); Clarke, _Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons_, 172; _County Folk-Lore, Suffolk_ (Folk-Lore Soc.), 178; Ady, _A Candle in the Dark_, 104-105, 114; _Moderate Intelligencer_, Sept. 4-11, 1645; _Scottish Dove_, Aug. 29-Sept. 6, 1645. Stearne mentions several names not mentioned in the _True Relation_--names probably belonging to those in the second group of the accused. Of most of them he has quoted the confession without stating the outcome of the cases. They are Hempstead of Creeting, Ratcliffe of Shelley, Randall of Lavenham, Bedford of Rattlesden, Wright of Hitcham, Ruceulver of Powstead, Greenliefe of Barton, Bush of Barton, Cricke of Hitcham, Richmond of Bramford, Hammer of Needham, Boreham of Sudbury, Scarfe of Rattlesden, King of Acton, Bysack of Waldingfield, Binkes of Haverhill. In addition to these Stearne speaks of Elizabeth Hubbard of Stowmarket. Two others from Stowmarket were tried, "Goody Mils" and "Goody Low." Hollingsworth, _History of Stowmarket_ (Ipswich, 1844), 171. 1645. Melford, Suffolk. Alexander Sussums made confession. Stearne, 36. 1645. Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. At least nine women indicted, five of whom were condemned. Three women acquitted and one man. Many others presented. C. J. Palmer, _History of Great Yarmouth_, I, 273-274. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, IX, App., pt. I, 320 a; Henry Harrod in _Norfolk Archæol._, IV, 249-251. 1645. Cornwall. Anne Jeffries confined in Bodmin gaol and starved by order of a justice of the peace. She was said to be intimate with the "airy people" and to cause marvellous cures. We do not know the charge against her. Finally discharged. William Turner, _Remarkable Providences_ (London, 1697), ch. 82. 1645. Ipswich, Suffolk. Mother Lakeland burnt. _The Lawes against Witches_ (1645). 1645. King's Lynn, Norfolk. Dorothy Lee and Grace Wright hanged. Mackerell, _History and Antiquities of King's Lynn_, 236. 1645. Aldeburgh, Norfolk. Seven witches hanged. Quotations from the chamberlain's accounts in N. F. Hele, _Notes or Jottings about Aldeburgh_, 43-44. 1645. Faversham, Kent. Three women hanged, a fourth tried, by the local authorities. _The Examination, Confession, Triall and Execution of Joane Williford, Joan Cariden and Jane Hott_ (1645). 1645. Rye, Sussex. Martha Bruff and Anne Howsell ordered by the "mayor of Rye and others" to be put to the ordeal of water. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, XIII, pt. 4, 216. 1645. Middlesex. Several witches of Stepney accused. _Signes and Wonders from Heaven_, 2-3. 1645-46. Cambridgeshire. Several accused, at least one or two of whom were executed. Ady, _Candle in the Dark_, 135; Stearne, 39, 45; H. More, _Antidote against Atheisme_, 128-129. This may have been what is referred to in Glanvill's _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 208-209. 1646. Northamptonshire. Several witches hanged. One died in prison. Stearne, 11, 23, 34-35. 1646. Huntingdonshire. Many accused, of whom at least ten were examined and several executed, among them John Wynnick. One woman swam and was released. John Davenport, _Witches of Huntingdon_ (London, 1646); H. More, _Antidote against Atheisme_, 125; Stearne, 11, 13, 17, 19, 20-21, 39, 42. 1646. Bedfordshire. Elizabeth Gurrey of Risden made confession. Stearne says a Huntingdonshire witch confessed that "at Tilbrooke bushes in Bedfordshier ... there met above twenty at one time." Huntingdonshire witches seem meant, but perhaps not alone. Stearne, 11, 31. c. 1646. Yarmouth, Norfolk. Stearne mentions a woman who suffered here. Stearne, 53. 1646. Heptenstall, Yorkshire. Elizabeth Crossley, Mary Midgley, and two other women examined before two justices of the peace. _York Depositions_, 6-9. 1647. Ely, Cambridgeshire. Stearne mentions "those executed at Elie, a little before Michaelmas last, ... also one at Chatterish there, one at March there, and another at Wimblington there, now lately found, still to be tryed"; and again "one Moores wife of Sutton, in the Isle of Elie," who "confessed her selfe guilty" and was executed; and yet again "one at Heddenham in the Isle of Ely," who "made a very large Confession" and must have paid the penalty. Stearne, 17, 21, 37; Gibbons, _Ely Episcopal Records_ (Lincoln, 1891), 112-113. 1647. Middlesex. Helen Howson acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 124. 1648. Middlesex. Bill against Katharine Fisher of Stratford-at-Bow ignored. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 102. 1648. Norwich, Norfolk. Two women burnt. P. Browne, _History of Norwich_ (Norwich, 1814), 38. 1649. Worcester. A Lancashire witch said to have been tried; perhaps remanded to Lancashire. _A Collection of Modern Relations._ The writer says that he received the account from a "Person of Quality" who attended the trial. 1649. Middlesex. Elizabeth Smythe of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 191. 1649. Middlesex. Dorothy Brumley acquitted. _Ibid._ 1649. St. Albans. John Palmer and Elizabeth Knott said to have been hanged for witches. _The Divels Delusion_ (1649). 1649. Berwick. Thirty women, examined on the accusation of a Scotch witch-finder, committed to prison. Whitelocke, _Memorials_, III, 99; John Fuller, _History of Berwick_ (Edinburgh, 1799), 155-156, giving extracts from the Guild Hall Books; John Sykes, _Local Records_ (Newcastle, 1833), I, 103-105. 1649. Gloucester. Witch tried at the assizes. _A Collection of Modern Relations_, 52. 1649-50. Yorkshire. Mary Sykes and Susan Beaumont committed and searched. The former acquitted, bill against the latter ignored. _York Depositions_, 28. 1649-50. Durham. Several witches at Gateshead examined, and carried to Durham for trial; "a grave for a witch." Sykes, _Local Records_, I, 105; or _Denham Tracts_ (Folk-Lore Soc.), II, 338. 1649-50. Newcastle. Thirty witches accused. Fourteen women and one man hanged, together with a witch from the county of Northumberland. Ralph Gardiner, _England's Grievance_ (London, 1655), 108; Sykes, _Local Records_, I, 103; John Brand, _History and Antiquities of Newcastle_ (London, 1789), II, 477-478; Whitelocke, _Memorials_, III, 128; _Chronicon Mirabile_ (London, 1841), 92. 1650. Yorkshire. Ann Hudson of Skipsey charged. _York Depositions_, 38, note. 1650. Cumberland. A "discovery of witches." Sheriff perplexed. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1650_, 159. 1650. Derbyshire. Ann Wagg of Ilkeston committed for trial. J. C. Cox, _Three Centuries of Derbyshire Annals_, II, 88. 1650. Middlesex. Joan Roberts acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 284. 1650. Stratford-at-Bow, Middlesex. Witch said to have been apprehended, but "escaped the law." Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, Relation XX. 1650. Middlesex. Joan Allen sentenced to be hanged. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 284. _The Weekly Intelligencer_, Oct. 7, 1650, refers to the hanging of a witch at the Old Bailey, probably Joan. 1650. Leicester. Anne Chettle searched and acquitted. Tried again two years later. Result unknown. _Leicestershire and Rutland Notes and Queries_, I, 247; James Thompson, _Leicester_ (Leicester, 1849), 406. 1650. Alnwick. Dorothy Swinow, wife of a colonel, indicted. Nothing further came of it. _Wonderfull News from the North_ (1650). 1650. Middlesex. Elizabeth Smith acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 284. c. 1650-60. St. Alban's, Herts. Two witches suspected and probably tried. Drage, _Daimonomageia_ (1665), 40-41. 1651. Yorkshire. Margaret Morton acquitted. _York Depositions_, 38. 1651. Middlesex. Elizabeth Lanam of Stepney acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 202, 285. 1651. Colchester, Essex. John Lock sentenced to one year's imprisonment and four appearances in the pillory. Brit. Mus., Stowe MSS., 840, fol. 43. 1652. Yorkshire. Hester France of Huddersfield accused before the justice of the peace. _York Depositions_, 51. 1652. Maidstone, Kent. Six women hanged, others indicted. _A Prodigious and Tragicall History of the Arraignment ... of six Witches at Maidstone ..._ by "H. F. Gent.," 1652; _The Faithful Scout_, July 30-Aug. 7, 1652; Ashmole's Diary in _Lives of Ashmole and Lilly_ (London, 1774), 316. 1652. Middlesex. Joan Peterson of Wapping acquitted on one charge, found guilty on another, and hanged. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 287; _The Witch of Wapping_; _A Declaration in Answer to several lying Pamphlets concerning the Witch of Wapping_; _The Tryall and Examinations of Mrs. Joan Peterson_; _French Intelligencer_, Apr. 6-13, 1652; _Mercurius Democritus_, Apr. 7-14, 1652; _Weekly Intelligencer_, April 6-13, 1652; _Faithful Scout_, Apr. 9-16, 1652. 1652. London. Susan Simpson acquitted. _A True and Perfect List of the Names of those Prisoners in Newgate_ (London, 1652). 1652. Worcester. Catherine Huxley of Evesham, charged with bewitching a nine-year-old girl, hanged. Baxter, _Certainty of the World of Spirits_ (London, 1691), 44-45. Baxter's narrative was sent him by "the now Minister of the place." 1652. Middlesex. Temperance Fossett of Whitechapel acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 208, 288. 1652. Middlesex. Margery Scott of St Martin's-in-the-Fields acquitted. _Ibid._, 209. 1652. Scarborough, Yorkshire. Anne Marchant or Hunnam accused and searched. J. B. Baker, _History of Scarborough_ (London, 1882), 481, using local records. 1652. Durham. Francis Adamson and ---- Powle executed. Richardson, _Table Book_, I, 286. 1652. Exeter, Devonshire. Joan Baker committed. Cotton, _Gleanings ... Relative to the History of ... Exeter_ (Exeter, 1877), 149. 1652. Wilts. William Starr accused and searched. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, _Various_, I, 127. 1652-53. Cornwall. A witch near Land's End accused, and accuses others. Eight sent to Launceston gaol. Some probably executed (see above, p. 218 and footnotes 24, 25). _Mercurius Politicus_, Nov. 24-Dec. 2, 1653; R. and O. B. Peter, _The Histories of Launceston and Dunheved_ (Plymouth, 1885), 285. See also Burthogge, _Essay upon Reason and the Nature of Spirits_ (London, 1694), 196. 1653. Wilts. Joan Baker of the Devizes makes complaint because two persons have reported her to be a witch. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, _Various_, I, 127. Is this the Joan Baker of Exeter mentioned a few lines above? 1653. Wilts. Joan Price of Malmesbury and Elizabeth Beeman of the Devizes indicted, the latter committed to the assizes. _Ibid._ 1653. Yorkshire. Elizabeth Lambe accused. _York Depositions_, 58. 1653. Middlesex. Elizabeth Newman of Whitechapel acquitted on one charge, found guilty on another, and sentenced to be hanged. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 217, 218, 289. 1653. Middlesex. Barbara Bartle of Stepney acquitted. _Ibid._, 216. 1653. Leeds, Yorkshire. Isabel Emott indicted for witchcraft upon cattle. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, IX, pt. 1, 325 b. 1653. Salisbury, Wilts. Anne Bodenham of Fisherton Anger hanged. _Doctor Lamb Revived_; _Doctor Lamb's Darling_; _Aubrey, Folk-Lore and Gentilisme_ (Folk-Lore Soc.), 261; Henry More, _An Antidote against Atheisme_, bk. III, chap. VII. 1654. Yorkshire. Anne Greene of Gargrave examined. _York Depositions_, 64-65. 1654. Yorkshire. Elizabeth Roberts of Beverley examined. _Ibid._, 67. 1654. Wilts. Christiana Weekes of Cleves Pepper, who had been twice before accused in recent sessions, charged with telling where lost goods could be found. "Other conjurers" charged at the same time. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, _Various_, I, 120. See above, 1610, Norfolk. 1654. Exeter. Diana Crosse committed. Cotton, _Gleanings ... Relative to the History of ... Exeter_, 150. 1654. Wilts. Elizabeth Loudon committed on suspicion. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, _Various_, I, 129. 1654. Whitechapel, Middlesex. Grace Boxe, arraigned on three charges, acquitted. Acquitted again in 1656. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 223, 293. 1655. Yorkshire. Katherine Earle committed and searched. _York Depositions_, 69. 1655. Salisbury. Margaret Gyngell convicted. Pardoned by the Lord Protector. F. A. Inderwick, _The Interregnum_, 188-189. 1655. Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk. Mother and daughter Boram said to have been hanged. Hutchinson, _An Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_, 38. 1656. Yorkshire. Jennet and George Benton of Wakefield examined. _York Depositions_, 74. 1656. Yorkshire. William and Mary Wade committed for bewitching the daughter of Lady Mallory. _York Depositions_, 75-78. 1657. Middlesex. Katharine Evans of Fulham acquitted. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 263. 1657. Middlesex. Elizabeth Crowley of Stepney acquitted, but detained in the house of correction. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 266, 295. 1657. Gisborough, Yorkshire. Robert Conyers, "gent.," accused. _North Riding Record Society_, V, 259. 1658. Exeter. Thomas Harvey of Oakham, Rutlandshire, "apprehended by order of Council by a party of soldiers," acquitted at Exeter assizes, but detained in custody. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1658-1659_, 169. 1658. Chard, Somerset. Jane Brooks of Shepton Mallet hanged. Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ (1681), pt. ii, 120-122. (Glanvill used Hunt's book of examinations). J. E. Farbrother, _Shepton Mallet; notes on its history, ancient, descriptive and natural_ (1860), 141. 1658. Exeter. Joan Furnace accused. Cotton, _Gleanings ... Relative to the History of ... Exeter_, 152. 1658. Yorkshire. Some women said to have been accused by two maids. The woman "cast" by the jury. The judges gave a "respite." Story not entirely trustworthy. _The most true and wonderfull Narration of two women bewitched in Yorkshire ..._ (1658). 1658. Wapping, Middlesex. Lydia Rogers accused. _A More Exact Relation of the most lamentable and horrid Contract which Lydia Rogers ... made with the Divel_ (1658). See app. A, § 5, for another tract. 1658. Northamptonshire. Some witches of Welton said to have been examined. Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_ (1681), pt. ii, 263-268. 1658. Salisbury, Wilts. The widow Orchard said to have been executed. From a MS. letter of 1685-86, printed in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1832, pt. I, 405-410. 1659. Norwich, Norfolk. Mary Oliver burnt. P. Brown, _History of Norwich_, 39. Francis Blomefield, _An Essay towards a Topographical History of the County of Norfolk_ (London, 1805-1810), III, 401. 1659. Middlesex. Elizabeth Kennett of Stepney accused. _Middlesex County Records_, III, 278, 299. 1659. Hertfordshire. "Goody Free" accused of killing by witchcraft. _Hertfordshire County Sessions Rolls_, I, 126, 129. 1659-1660. Northumberland. Elizabeth Simpson of Tynemouth accused. _York Depositions_, 82. 1660. Worcester. Joan Bibb of Rushock received £20 damages for being ducked. _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1856, pt. I, 39, from a letter of J. Noake of Worcester, who used the Townshend MSS. 1660. Worcester. A widow and her two daughters, and a man, from Kidderminster, tried. "Little proved." Copied from the Townshend MSS. by Nash, in his _Collections for the History of Worcestershire_ (1781-1799), II, 38. 1660. Newcastle. Two suspected women detained in prison. Extracts from the Municipal Accounts of Newcastle-upon-Tyne in M. A. Richardson, _Reprints of Rare Tracts ... illustrative of the History of the Northern Counties_ (Newcastle, 1843-1847), III, 57. 1660. Canterbury, Kent. Several witches said to have been executed. W. Welfitt ("Civis"), _Minutes of Canterbury_ (Canterbury, 1801-1802), no. X. c. 1660. Sussex. A woman who had been formerly tried at Maidstone watched and searched. MS. quoted in _Sussex Archæol. Collections_, XVIII, 111-113; see also Samuel Clarke, _A Mirrour or Looking Glasse both for Saints and Sinners_, II, 593-596. 1661. Hertfordshire. Frances Bailey of Broxbourn complained of abuse by those who believed her a witch. _Hertfordshire County Sessions Rolls_, I, 137. 1661. Newcastle. Jane Watson examined before the mayor. _York Depositions_, 92-93. 1661. Newcastle. Margaret Catherwood and two other women examined before the mayor. _Ibid._, 88. 1663. Somerset. Elizabeth Style died before execution. Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 127-146. For copies of three depositions about Elizabeth Style, see _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1837, pt. ii, 256-257. 1663. Taunton, Somerset. Julian Cox hanged. Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 191-198. 1663-64. Newcastle. Dorothy Stranger accused before the mayor. _York Depositions_, 112-114. 1664. Somerset. A "hellish knot" of witches (Hutchinson says twelve) accused before justice of the peace Robert Hunt. His discovery stopped by "some of them in authority." Glanvill, _Sadducismus Triumphatus_, pt. ii, 256-257. But see case of Elizabeth Style above. 1664. Somerset. A witch condemned at the assizes. She may have been one of those brought before Hunt. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1663-1664_, 552. 1664. Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk. Rose Cullender and Amy Duny condemned. _A Tryal of Witches at ... Bury St. Edmunds_ (1682). 1664. Newcastle. Jane Simpson, Isabell Atcheson and Katharine Curry accused before the mayor. _York Depositions_, 124. 1664. York. Alice Huson and Doll Dilby tried. Both made confessions. Copied for _A Collection of Modern Relations_ (see p. 52) from a paper written by the justice of the peace, Corbet. 1665. Wilts. Jone Mereweather of Weeke in Bishop's Cannings committed. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, _Various_, I, 147. 1665. Newcastle. Mrs. Pepper accused before the mayor. _York Depositions_, 127. 1665. Three persons convicted of murder and executed for killing a supposed witch. Joseph Hunter, _Life of Heywood_ (London, 1842), 167-168, note. 1666. Lancashire. Four witches of Haigh examined, two committed but probably acquitted. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1665-1666_, 225. 1667. Newcastle, Northumberland. Emmy Gaskin of Landgate accused before the mayor. _York Depositions_, 154. 1667. Norfolk. A fortune-teller or conjuror condemned to imprisonment. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1667_, 30. 1667. Ipswich, Suffolk. Two witches possibly imprisoned. Story doubtful. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1667-1668_, 4. 1667. Devizes, Wilts. "An old woman" imprisoned, charged with bewitching by making and pricking an image. Blagrave, _Astrological Practice_ (London 1689), 90, 103. 1667. Lancashire. Widow Bridge and her sister, Margaret Loy, both of Liverpool, accused. _The Moore Rental_ (Chetham Soc., 1847), 59-60. 1668. Durham. Alice Armstrong of Strotton tried, but almost certainly acquitted. Tried twice again in the next year with the same result. Sykes, _Local Records_, II, 369. 1668. Warwick. Many witches "said to be in hold." _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1668-1669_, 25. 1669. Hertfordshire. John Allen of Stondon indicted for calling Joan Mills a witch. _Hertfordshire County Sessions Rolls_, I, 217. 1670. Yorkshire. Anne Wilkinson acquitted. _York Depositions_, 176 and note. 1670. Latton Wilts. Jane Townshend accused. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports, Various_. I, 150-151. 1670. Wilts. Elizabeth Peacock acquitted. See Inderwick's list of witch trials in the western circuit, in his _Sidelights on the Stuarts_ (London, 1888), 190-194. Hereafter the reference "Inderwick" will mean this list. See also above, p. 269, note. 1670. Devonshire. Elizabeth Eburye and Aliena Walter acquitted. Inderwick. 1670. Somerset. Anne Slade acquitted on two indictments. Inderwick. 1670. Bucks. Ann Clarke reprieved. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1670_, 388. 1671. Devonshire. Johanna Elford acquitted. Inderwick. 1671. Devonshire. Margaret Heddon acquitted on two indictments. Inderwick. 1671. Falmouth. Several witches acquitted. _Cal. St. P., Dom., 1671_, 105, 171. Perhaps identical with the three, two men and a woman, mentioned by Inderwick as acquitted in Cornwall. 1672. Somerset. Margaret Stevens acquitted on two indictments. Inderwick. 1672. Devonshire. Phelippa Bruen acquitted on four indictments. Inderwick. 1672. Wilts. Elizabeth Mills acquitted on two indictments. Inderwick. 1672. Wilts. Elizabeth Peacock, who had been acquitted two years before, acquitted on five indictments. Judith Witchell acquitted on two, found guilty on a third. She and Ann Tilling sentenced to execution. They must have been reprieved. Inderwick; _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1832, pt. II, p. 489-492. 1673. Yorkshire, Northumberland, and Durham. At least twenty-three women and six men accused to various justices of the peace by Ann Armstrong, who confessed to being present at witch meetings, and who acted as a witch discoverer. Some of those whom she accused were accused by others. Margaret Milburne, whom she seems not to have mentioned, also accused, _York Depositions_, 191-202. 1674. Northampton. Ann Foster said to have been hanged for destroying sheep and burning barns by witchcraft. _A Full and True Relation of The Tryal, Condemnation, and Execution of Ann Foster_ (1674). 1674. Middlesex. Elizabeth Row of Hackney held in bail for her appearance at Quarter Sessions. _Middlesex County Records_, IV, 42-43. 1674. Southton, Somerset. John and Agnes Knipp acquitted. Inderwick. 1674? (see above, p. 269, note). Salisbury. Woman acquitted, but kept in gaol. North, _Life of North_, 130, 131. 1674-75. Lancashire. Joseph Hinchcliffe and his wife bound over to appear at the assizes. He committed suicide and his wife died soon after. _York Depositions_, 208; Oliver Heywood's _Diary_ (1881-1885), I, 362. 1675. Southton, Somerset. Martha Rylens acquitted on five indictments. Inderwick. 1676. Devonshire. Susannah Daye acquitted. Inderwick. 1676. Cornwall. Mary Clarkson acquitted. Inderwick. c. 1679. Ely, Cambridgeshire. Witch condemned, but reprieved. Hutchinson, _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_, 41. c. 1680. Somerset. Anna Rawlins acquitted. Inderwick. c. 1680. Derbyshire. Elizabeth Hole of Wingerworth accused and committed for charging a baronet with witchcraft. J. C. Cox, _Three Centuries of Derbyshire Annals_, II, 90. 1680. Yorkshire, Elizabeth Fenwick of Longwitton acquitted. _York Depositions_, 247. 1682. London. Jane Kent acquitted. _A Full and True Account ... but more especially the Tryall of Jane Kent for Witchcraft_ (1682). 1682. Surrey. Joan Butts acquitted. _Strange and Wonderfull News from Yowell in Surry_ (1681); _An Account of the Tryal and Examination of Joan Buts_ (1682). 1682. Devonshire. Temperance Lloyd acquitted on one indictment, found guilty on another. Susanna Edwards and Mary Trembles found guilty. All three executed. Inderwick; North, _Life of North_, 130; see also app. A, § 6, above. 1682-88. Northumberland. Margaret Stothard of Edlingham accused. E. Mackenzie, _History of Northumberland_, II, 33-36. 1683. London. Jane Dodson acquitted. _An Account of the Whole Proceedings at the Sessions Holden at the Sessions House in the Old Baily ..._ (1683). 1683. Somerset. Elenora, Susannah, and Marie Harris, and Anna Clarke acquitted. Inderwick. 1684. Devonshire. Alicia Molland found guilty. Inderwick. 1685. Devonshire. Jane Vallet acquitted on three indictments. Inderwick. temp. Carol. II. Devonshire. Agnes Ryder of Woodbury accused, probably committed. A. H. A. Hamilton, _Quarter Sessions chiefly in Devon_ (London, 1878), 220. temp. Carol. II. Ipswich, Suffolk. A woman in prison. William Drage, _Daimonomageia_, 11. temp. Carol. II. Herts. Two suspected witches of Baldock ducked. _Ibid._, 40. temp. Carol. II. St. Albans, Herts. Man and woman imprisoned. Woman ducked. _Ibid._ temp. Carol. II. Taunton Dean, Somerset. Man acquitted. North, _Life of North_, 131. 1685-86. Malmesbury, Wilts. Fourteen persons accused, among whom were the three women, Peacock, Tilling and Witchell, who had been tried in 1672. Eleven set at liberty; Peacock, Tilling and Witchell kept in prison awhile, probably released eventually. _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1832, pt. I, 489-492. 1686. Somerset. Honora Phippan acquitted on two indictments. Inderwick. 1686. Cornwall. Jane Noal, alias Nickless, alias Nicholas, and Betty Seeze committed to Launceston gaol for bewitching a fifteen-year-old boy. We know from Inderwick that Jane Nicholas was acquitted. _A True Account of ... John Tonken of Pensans in Cornwall_ (1686). 1687. York. Witch condemned, probably reprieved. _Memoirs and Travels of Sir John Reresby_ (London, 1812), 329. 1687. Dorset. Dewnes Knumerton and Elizabeth Hengler acquitted. Inderwick. For examination of first see Roberts, _Southern Counties_, 525-526. 1687. Wilts. M. Parle acquitted. Inderwick. 1687. Devonshire. Abigail Handford acquitted. Inderwick. 1689. Wilts. Margareta Young condemned but reprieved. Christiana Dunne acquitted. Inderwick. 1690. Taunton, Somerset. Elizabeth Farrier (Carrier), Margaret Coombes and Ann Moore committed. Coombes died in prison at Brewton. The other two acquitted at the assizes. Inderwick; Baxter, _Certainty of the World of Spirits_, 74-75. 1692. Wilts. Woman committed. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, _Various_, I, 160. 1693. Suffolk. Widow Chambers of Upaston committed, died in gaol. Hutchinson, _Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft_, 42. 1693-94. Devonshire. Dorothy Case acquitted on three indictments. Inderwick. 1693-94. Devonshire. Katherine Williams acquitted. Inderwick. 1694. Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk. Mother Munnings of Hartis acquitted. Hutchinson, _op. cit._, 43. 1694. Somerset. Action brought against three men for swimming Margaret Waddam. _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, _Various_, I, 160. 1694. Ipswich, Suffolk. Margaret Elnore acquitted. Hutchinson, 44. 1694. Kent. Ann Hart of Sandwich convicted, but went free under a general act of pardon. W. Boys, _Collections for an History of Sandwich_, 718. 1694-95. Devonshire. Clara Roach acquitted. Inderwick. 1695. Launceston, Cornwall. Mary Guy or Daye acquitted. Hutchinson, 44-45; Inderwick gives the name as Maria Daye (or Guy) and puts the trial in Devonshire in 1696. 1696. Devonshire. Elizabeth Horner acquitted on three indictments, Hutchinson, 45; Inderwick. See also letter from sub-dean Blackburne to the Bishop of Exeter in Brand, _Popular Antiquities_ (ed. of 1905), II, 648-649. 1698-99. Wilts. Ruth Young acquitted. Inderwick. 1700. Dorset. Anne Grantly and Margaretta Way acquitted. Inderwick. 1700-10. Lancashire. A woman of Chowbent searched and committed. Died before the assizes. MS. quoted by Harland and Wilkinson, _Lancashire Folk-Lore_ (London, 1867), 207; also E. Baines, _Lancaster_, II, 203. 1701. Southwark. Sarah Morduck, who had been before acquitted at Guildford, and who had unsuccessfully appealed to a justice in London against her persecutor, tried and acquitted. Hutchinson, 46. _The Tryal of Richard Hathaway_ (1702); _A Full and True Account of the Apprehending and Taking of Mrs. Sarah Moordike_ (1701); _A short Account of the Trial held at Surry Assizes, in the Borough of Southwark_ (1702). See above, app. A, § 7. 1701. Kingston, Surrey. Woman acquitted. _Notes and Queries_ (April 10, 1909), quoting from the _London Post_ of Aug. 1-4, 1701. 1701-02. Devonshire. Susanna Hanover acquitted. Inderwick. 1702-03. Wilts. Joanna Tanner acquitted. Inderwick. 1704. Middlesex. Sarah Griffiths committed to Bridewell. _A Full and True Account ... of a Notorious Witch_ (London, 1704). 1705. Northampton. Two women said to have been burned here. Story improbable. See above, appendix A, § 10. 1707. Somerset. Maria Stevens acquitted. Inderwick. 1712. Hertford. Jane Wenham condemned, but reprieved. See footnotes to chapter XIII and app. A, § 9. 1716. Huntingdon. Two witches, a mother and daughter, said to have been executed here. Story improbable. See above, app. A, § 10. 1717. Leicester. Jane Clark and her daughter said to have been tried. _Leicestershire and Rutland Notes and Queries_, I, 247. 1717. Leicester. Mother Norton and her daughter acquitted. Brit. Mus., Add. MSS., 35,838, fol. 404. I am unwilling to close this work without an expression of my gratitude to the libraries, on both sides of the sea, which have so generously welcomed me to the use of their books and pamphlets on English witchcraft--many of them excessively rare and precious. They have made possible this study. My debt is especially great to the libraries of the British Museum and of Lambeth Palace at London, to the Bodleian Library at Oxford, and in America to the Boston Athenæum and to the university libraries of Yale and Harvard. To the unrivalled White collection at Cornell my obligation is deepest of all. [1] The references in this list, together with the account, in appendix A, of the pamphlet literature of witchcraft, are designed to take the place of a formal bibliography. That the list of cases here given is complete can hardly be hoped. Crude though its materials compel it to be, the author believes it may prove useful. He hopes in the course of time to make it more complete, and to that end will gladly welcome information respecting other trials. INDEX. Abbot, George, Archbishop of Canterbury, 141 n., 233-234 Abbott, Alice, 132 n. Abingdon, 27, 347, 387 _Account of the ... Proceedings ... in the Old Baily_, cited, 416 Acton, 404 _Acts of the Privy Council_, cited, 26 n., 28 n., 30 n., 347, 384, 385, 388, 390 Adams, W. H. Davenport, cited, 188 n., 376 Adamson, Francis, 409 Addison, Joseph, 340-341 Ady, Thomas, 238, 241-242, 310. Cited, 180, 184 n., 225 n., 404 Agrippa, Cornelius, 62 Aikin, Lucy, cited, 143 n. Aldeburgh, 182, 183, 191 n., 193, 200 n., 405 Alene, case of, 13 Alfred the Great, 2 Allen, Joan, 408, 414 Alnwick, 390, 408 Altham, Sir James, 112, 113, 125 Anderson, Sir Edmund, 51, 56 n., 78, 84, 102, 350, 354, 355 Andrews, William, cited, 137 n., 396 Anne, Princess of Denmark, her marriage to James I, 94 _Annual Register_, cited, 141 n., 398 _Archæologia_, cited, 10 n., 391 _Archæologia Cantiana_, cited, 21 n., 29 n., 385, 389, 392, 393 Archer, John, 273, 282; conducts Cox trial, 260-261 Armstrong, Ann, 281-282, 415 Arnold, Mother, 386 Ashmole, Elias, cited, 216, 365, 408 Ashmolean Museum, at Oxford, 216 Ashton, John, cited, 188 n., 351, 366, 376 Ashwell, John, 7 Aspine, Martha, 107 Assembly, the witch. _See_ Sabbath Assheton, R., 158 n., 401 Atcheson, Isabell, 413 Aubrey, John, his credulity, 306. Cited, 162 n., 212 n., 365, 402, 410 Audley, vicar of, 326 _Autobiography of Edward Underhill_, cited, 13 n. Avery, "Master," 110, 130-132, 357, 384 B., R. _See_ Burton, Richard. Bacon, Francis, 246-247. Cited, 246 n., 247 n. Baddeley, Richard, 141 n., 142 n., 359 Bailey, Frances, 412 Bailey, the Old, 108 n. Baines, Edward, cited, 147 n., 149 n., 150 n., 158 n., 392, 401, 419 Baker, Alexander, 154 Baker, Anne, 133 n., 399 Baker, J. B., cited, 409 Baker, Joan, of Devizes, 217, 409 Baker, Joan, of Exeter, 409 Baker, Mother, 59-60 Bakewell, affair of, 137, 384, 396 Baldock, 417 Bamfield, Ellen, 389 Bamford, James, 353 Bancroft, Richard, as Bishop of London, 84-89; as Archbishop of Canterbury, 88 n., 89, 233, 346, 353 Bangor, Bishop of, 397 Barber, Mary, 383 Bark, Ellen, 394 Barking, 386 Barlowe, wife of John, 401 Barnet, 392 Barringer, Joan, 390 Barrow, Dr., of Cambridge, 47 Barrow, Isaac, 308 and n., 311 Barrow, James, 256-237 Barrow, John, 256 Bartell, Elizabeth, 389 Bartham, Doll, 350 Bartham, Oliffe, 394 Bartle, Barbara, 410 Barton, 404 Barton, Elizabeth, the "Holy Maid of Kent," 58 Basel, 15 n. Bastard, Alice, 402 Batcombe, 34, 236 Bate, William, 397 Bates, Dr., cited, 337 n. Bateson, Mary, cited, 392 Bath and Wells, Bishop of, 162 n. Bath and Wells, chancellor of the Bishop of, 235 Batte, 38 Baxter, Richard, 196, 316, 336-339. Cited, 216 n., 337 n., 409, 418 Beaumont, John, 336, 339. Cited, 273 n., 275 n. Beaumont, Susan, 407 Beaver, Anne, 400 Bedford, Duchess of, 4, 9, 49 Bedford, trials at, no, 117, 135-136, 383, 398, 402, 404 Bedfordshire, 107, 115, 118, 119, 179 n., 187, 200 n., 406 Bee, Jesse, 349 Beeman, Elizabeth, 409 Beigel, H., 346 Bekker, Balthazar, 339 Bel and the Dragon, book of, 97 Belcher, Elizabeth, 130-132, 230, 357, 384 Belvoir Castle, witchcraft at, 132-134 Bennett, Elizabeth, 42-43 Bennett, Gervase, 219 Bentham, Thomas, Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, 15 n. Bentley, Alice, 394 Benton, George, 411 Benton, Jennet, 411 Beriman, Helen, 387 Berkhampstead, 257 Berks, 387, 403 Bernard, Richard, 165, 234-236, 241, 293, 303 n., 361, 401. Cited, 398 Berrye, Agnes, 384, 399 Berwick, 201, 206, 207, 209, 252 n., 253, 391, 393, 407 Beverley, 410 Bexwell, Rosa, 52 n., 394 Bibb, Joan, 412 Bill, Arthur, 106-107, 132 n., 383 Bilson, boy of. _See_ Bilston Bilson, Thomas, Bishop of Winchester, 234 Bilston, boy of, 140, 141-142, 151, 152, 323, 400 Binkes, Anne, 192 n., 404 Bishop Burton, 394 Bishop's Cannings, 413 Blackburne, Launcelot, 321, 418 Blackmail, charge of, 149, 153 Blagrave, Joseph, cited, 414 Blomefield, Francis, cited, 412 Bodenham, Anne, trial of, 210-213, 363, 410 Bodine (Bodin), 69 n. Bodmin, 405 Bohemia, Queen of, 158 Bokes-wharfe, 394 Bolingbroke, Roger, 8, 9 Boram, mother and daughter, 411 Boram, wife of, 385 Boreham of Sudbury, 404 Bottesford, 134 n. Boulton, Richard, 336, 339-340, 348 Bourne, John, 390 Bovet, Richard, 303 and n. Bower, Edmond, 212, 216, 364, 365 Bowes, Lady, 356 Bowes, Sir Thomas, 167 n. Boxe, Grace, 410 Boyle, Sir Robert, 337 and n.; opinions of, 305-306 and n. Boys, the Rev. Mr., 331-332 Boys, William, cited 401, 403, 418 Bracton, cited, 128 n. Bradley, Alice, 396 Bradwell, Stephen, cited, 395 Bragge, Francis, 325-336, 373-375 Bramford, 404 Branche, Anne, 399 Brand, John, cited, 208 n., 321 n., 407 Brandeston, 175, 179 n., 379 Braynford, 392 Brerely, Alice, 393 Brereton, Sir William, 158. Cited, 158 n. Brewton, 418 Bridewell, 419 Bridge, widow, 414 Bridgeman, Henry, Bishop of Chester, 152-157, 402 Bridges, Agnes, 30 n., 59, 88 n., 351 Brightling, 282 Brinley, John, 303 Bristol, 118, 392, 400 Britannicus, 252 Britton, 5, 6. Cited, 128 Brome, Richard, 159, 244, 306 Bromley, Sir Edward, 113, 125, 134 Brooks, Jane, 221, 222, 411 Brown, Agnes, trial of, 35, 36, 110, 115, 357, 384 Brown, Joan, 130, 131, 132, 357 Browne, Margaret, 386 Browne, P., cited, 406 Browne, Richard, 183 n. Browne, Sir Thomas, 266-267, 305, 311 Broxbourn, 412 Bruen, Philippa, 415 Bruff, Martha, 405 Brumley, Dorothy, 406 Bucer, Martin, 15 n., 88 n. Buckingham, George Villiers, Duke of, 134 n. Buckinghamshire, 74, 388, 415 Bulcock, Jane and John, 383 Bull, Edmund, 401, 402 Bullinger, 15 n. Burghley, William Cecil, Lord, 19 n., 25 n., 27 Burman, Charles, cited, 216 n. Burnet, Bishop Gilbert, 248 n. Cited, 268 n. Burnham-Ulpe, 356 Burntwood, 386 Burr, George L., cited, 3 n. Burthogge, Richard, 340. Cited, 218 n., 409 Burton, Richard ("R. B."), 339 n. Cited, 395, 403 Burton, Robert, 245 Burton, boy of, named by Ben Jonson, 92. _See also_ Darling, Thomas Burton-upon-Trent, 76, 85, 392 Bury, Thomas, 380 Bury St. Edmunds, 177-181, 192, 194, 200, 204, 261-267, 305, 321, 361, 378, 379, 393, 394, 404, 411, 413, 418 Bush, of Barton, 404 Buske, Mother, 385 Butcher, Elizabeth, 389 Butler's _Hudibras_ on Matthew Hopkins, 165, 194 Butts, Joan, trial of, 277, 416 Byett, William, 46 n. Byles, Andrew, 35 Byrom, Margaret, 52 Bysack, of Waldingfield, 404 Calamy, Edmund, the elder, 178 _Calendar of Patent Rolls_, cited, 7 n. _Calendar of the Proceedings of the Committee for the Advance of Money_, cited, 164 n. _Calendars of State Papers_, cited, 26 n. and _passim_ Calvin, 64, 65, 87 n. Cambridge, 139, 179 n., 279, 396 Cambridge University, 48, 89, 228, 229, 235, 238, 276, 374; Queen's College, 143, 348; Christ's College, 227; Emmanuel College, 228 n.; Trinity College, 308 Cambridgeshire, 111, 184, 200 n., 331, 405, 406, 416 Camfield, Andrew, 399 Camfield, Benjamin, 303, 307 Canterbury, 201, 255, 385, 386, 412 Canterbury, Archbishop of. _See_ Warham, William; Cranmer, Thomas; Parker, Matthew; Grindall, Edmund; Whitgift, John; Bancroft, Richard; Abbot, George Carbury, John, Earl of, 339 n. Cariden, Joan, 201 n., 405 Carnarvon, 118, 397 Carr, Robert, 232 Carrier, Elizabeth, 418 Carrington, John, 317, 319 n., 372 Carshoggil, laird of, 96 Carter, Richard, 170 n. Casaubon, Meric, 238-240, 293-299, 307. Cited, 240 n., 293 n., 294 n., 403 Cason, Joan, trial of, 54, 390 Castleton, 393 Cecil, William, Lord Burghley. _See_ Burghley Celles, Cystley, 45 _Certaine Informations_, cited, 403 Chalmers, Alexander, cited, 328 n. Chamberlain, letter of, 115 n. Chambers, widow, 418 Chandler, Alice, case of, 38 n., 385 Chandler, Elizabeth, 187 n. Chandler, Mary, 185 Chandler, R., 212 Chandos, daughter of Lady, 385 Chapbook, the witch, 33 Chard, 221, 411 Charles I, 146, 152, 154, 158, 161, 199, 234, 323; growth of skepticism as to witches in his reign, 162-163 Charles II, 248, 254, 262, 276, 306; witchcraft in his reign, 255 Charlewood, J., 350 Chatterish, 406 Chattox, Anne, 109, 121-122, 126 n., 127, 383 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 89 Chauncy, Arthur, 327 Chauncy, Sir Henry, 324, 326, 375 Chelmsford, 34-41, 43, 46, 166-174, 178, 188 n., 200, 204, 346, 363, 376, 378, 385, 387, 390, 400, 403; trials of 1566 at, 34-38, 385; trials of 1579 at, 38-40, 387; trials of 1589 at, 40, 390; trials of 1645 at, 166-174, 403 Cherrie, of Thrapston, case of, 184-185 Cheshire, 118, 232 n. Chester, Bishop of. _See_ Bridgeman, Henry Chettell, "Mistress," 385 Chettle, Anne, 218, 408 Chichester, Bishop of, 12. _See also_ Harsnett, Samuel Chinting, 387 Chishull, the Rev. Mr., 328 Chittam, Henry, 387 Chowbent, 419 Christ's College, Cambridge, 227 _Chronicon Mirabile_, cited, 208 n., 407 Church, the trials for sorcery under, 6-8; statute of Henry VIII not aimed to limit, 10; state ready to reclaim jurisdiction from, 24; penalties under, 28, 30; gradual transfer to state of witchcraft cases, 30-31 Clarke, of Keiston, 185-186 Clarke, Ann, 415, 417 Clarke, Elizabeth, 166-175 Clarke, Helen, 169 Clarke, Jane, 141-142, 419 Clarke, Sir Robert, 54 Clarke, Samuel, cited, 177, 307, 361, 404, 412 Clarke, William, his letter to Speaker Lenthall, 225 n. Clarkson, Mary, 416 Clerkenwell, 389 Cleves, Pepper, 397, 410 Cleworth, 52, 149 n. Clinton, Lord, 12 Clouues, William, 24 n. Clutterbuck, Robert, cited, 328 n. Cobbett, William, cited, 102 n. Cobham, Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, 4, 8 Cobham, Lord, 12 Cock, Susan, 362, 376 Cocwra, Samuel, 387 Coke, Sir Edward, 102, 152, 228. Cited, 128 n., 396 Colchester, 388, 389, 391, 408 Cole, Henry, Jewel's controversy with, 16 n. Cole, Thomas, 34, 346 Coleman, John, 388 _Collection of Modern Relations_, 279, 339 n. Cited, 146 n., 181 n., 402, 406, 407, 413 Collingham, 393 Coman, widow, case of, 331-332 Commission of Oyer and Terminer, 178, 192, 200 Committee of Both Kingdoms, 200 Commons' _Journal_, cited, 17 n., 103 n. Conyers, Robert, 411 Cooke, Elizabeth, 397 Cooke, Mother, 392 Coombes, Margaret, 418 Cooper, C. H. and T., cited, 356 Cooper, John, 82 n. Cooper, Thomas, 227, 231-232, 242. Cited, 398, 401 Corbet, 413 Corbolt. _See_ Godbolt Cornwall, 217, 218, 221, 224, 254, 276-277, 279, 320, 388, 405, 409, 415, 416, 417, 418 Cornwall, Henry, 170 n. Cosyn, Edmund, 25 Cotta, John, 227, 229-231, 235, 237, 243. Cited, 130 n., 230 n., 231 n. Cotton, William, cited, 217 n., 221 n., 224 n., 409, 410, 411 Council of State, 215, 219, 225, 226 _Council Register_, cited, 152 n., 154 n., 155 n. "Countess" (Margaret Russel), 400 _County Folk Lore, Suffolk_, cited, 165 n., 176 n., 179 n., 194 n., 392, 404 Court of High Commission, 84, 86-87 Coventry, 232 n., 400 Coventry and Lichfield, Bishop of. _See_ Bentham, Thomas Coverdale, Miles, 15 n. Coverley, Sir Roger de, 341 Cowper, Earl and Countess of, 328 n. Cox, John Charles, cited, 137 n., 219 n., 324 n., 396 Cox, Julian, trial of, 260-261, 273, 282, 292, 310, 413 Cox, Richard, 15 n. Coxe, Francis, trial of, 31 n., 351, 385 Cranbourne, Viscount, 115 n., 396 Cranmer, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, 12, 58 n. Crearey, Elizabeth, 400 Creeting, 404 Cricke, 404 _Criminal Chronology of York Castle_, cited, 224 Cromwell, Sir Henry, 48, 50 Cromwell, Lady, 48 Cromwell, Oliver, 48 n., 207, 212 n., 215, 219, 226, 237 n., 275 Cromwell, Richard, 220, 226 Cromwell, Thomas, 19 Crosse, Diana, 223-224, 410 Crossley, Elizabeth, 406, 411 Crossley, James, cited, 124 n., 147 n., 357, 380 Crouch, Nathaniel, 339 n. Crump, Hannah, 257 Cruther, Joseph, 282 Cudworth, Ralph, 307 Cullender, Rose, 262, 310, 413 Culpepper, Nicholas, 403 Cumberland, 220, 224, 225, 407 Cunny, Joan, 347 Curry, Katharine, 413 Cushman, L. W., cited, 244 n. Damages awarded accused, 324 Danvers, Sir John, 215 Darcy, Brian, 41, 42, 44 n., 45, 46 n., 348 Darling, Thomas, 76-78, 80, 85 Darrel, John, 74-87, 92, 138, 255, 315, 349, 352-356. Cited, 391, 392, 393, 394 Davenport, John, 187 n., 362 Daventry, 251 Davies, J. S., cited, 8 n. Davis, Ralph, 375, 382 Daye, Mary, 418 Daye, Susannah, 416 Deacon, John, 353, 354 Dee, John, 52-53, 79 Deir, Mrs., 390 Dekker, Thomas, 244. Cited, 112 n., 359 Del Rio, 234 Demdike, Old (Elizabeth Southerns), 121-128 Denham, 74 n. Denham, Sir John, 235 _Denham Tracts_, cited, 30 n., 219 n., 389, 390, 407 Denison, John, 78 n., 349 Denton, 360 Derby, 392 Derby, Archdeacon of, 83 Derby, Earl of, 392 Derbyshire, 52, 81, 118, 137, 219, 324, 390, 392, 396, 407 Descartes, 238 Devell, Mother, 28 n. Device, Alizon, 111 n., 384 Device, Elizabeth, 108 n., 122-126, 383 Device, James, 126-127, 383 Device, Jennet, 113, 126-127 Devizes, 217, 409, 414 Devonshire, 254, 277, 409, 414-419 Dewse, Mrs., 390 _Diary, A, or an Exact Journall_, cited, 174 n. Dickonson, Frances, 147, 152-160 Dilby, Doll, 413 Distribution of witchcraft, 118-119, 146, 224, 254-255 _Doctrine of Devils, The_, 296-297, 302 n. Dodgson, Nathan, 256 Dodson, Jane, 416 Doncaster, 396 Dorrington, Doctor, 50 n. Dorset, 385, 390, 417, 419 Dorset, Marquis of, 12 Drage, William, 367. Cited, 256-258 n., 279 n., 402, 408, 417 Drew, widow, 403 Ducke, Elizabeth, 386 Dugdale, Richard, 315-320, 329, 373 Duncane, Geillis, torture of, 95 Dungeon, Mother, 386 Dunne, Christiana, 418 Duny, Amy, trial of, 262-267, 310, 413 Durham, 119, 146, 210, 218, 219 n., 388, 389, 395, 401, 407, 409, 414, 415 Durham, Bishop of, 12; his _Injunctions,_ cited, 388 _Durham, Depositions ... from the Court of_, cited, 21 n., 29 n., 385 Durham, vicar-general of the Bishop of, 117 Dutten, Mother, 28 n. E., T., "Maister of Art," 388 Earle, Katherine, 223, 410 East Anglia, 51, 119, 184, 197, 255 Eburye, Elizabeth, 414 Eckington, 390 Edlingham, 416 Edmonds, Mr., 235 n. Edmonton, 108, 112, 136 n., 383, 391, 400 Edward I, 6 Edward IV, 4, 9 Edward VI, 12, 88 Edwards, Richard, 169-170 Edwards, Susanna, 271-272, 368-369, 416 Elford, Johanna, 415 Elizabeth, 35-92, 93; number of executions in her reign compared with number under James, 105-106; spectral evidence in her reign, 110; distribution of witch cases, 118 Ellyse, Joan, 386 Elnore, Margaret, 418 Ely, 189, 279, 406, 416 Ely, Bishop of, 12, 15 n., 234 Emerson, a priest, 387 Emerson, Ann, 388 Emott, Isabel, 410 Emmanuel College, Cambridge, 228 n. Endor, witch of, Scot's explanation of, 62; Filmer's explanation of, 241; Muggleton's explanation of, 295; Webster's explanation of, 298 Enfield, 384, 393, 399 Enger, Master, 110-111, 117, 118 and n., 135-136 Essex, 26, 41, 70 n., 90 n., 119, 146, 158, 166-174, 192, 195, 228 n., 331-332, 337, 385, 387, 388, 389, 390, 391, 394, 403, 408 Essex, Countess of, 144 n., 232-234 Essex, Earl of, 234 Ettrick, Anthony, 365 Evans, Katharine, 411 Evesham, 409 Exeter, 31 n., 216, 221, 223, 270-272, 278, 320-321, 409, 410, 411 Exeter, Bishop of, 418 Exeter College, Oxford, 285 Eye, witch of, 4 F., H., 172, 361 Fairclough, Samuel, 166 n., 177, 178 Fairfax, Edward, 111, 144-145, 249-250, 358, 359. Cited, 102 n., 142 n., 250 n., 395, 400 Fairfax, Sir Thomas, 360 _Faithful Scout, The_, cited, 213 n., 216, 365, 408 Falmouth, 415 Farbrother, J. E., cited, 411 _Farington Papers_, cited, 155 n. Farnworth, Richard, 240 n. Farrier, Elizabeth, 118 Faversham, 54, 201, 390, 405 Female juries, 108, 113, 171, 264, 271, 279, 330 Fenner, Edward, in Warboys trials, 49-50 Fenwick, Elizabeth, 279, 416 Ferris, Sibilla, 393 Fian, Dr., 94-96 Filmer, Sir Robert, 238, 241. Cited, 241 n. Finchingfield, 228 n. Finchley, 399 Fisher, Katharine, 406 Fisherton-Anger, 211, 410 Fishwick, cited, 372 Fize, Henry, 388 _Flagellum Dæmonum_, 79 n. Fleta, 5 Flower, Joan and her daughters (Margaret and Philippa), case of, 115, 119 n., 132-134, 383, 399 Fludd, Robert, 286 Foljambe, Mrs. _See_ Bowes, Lady _Folk Lore Journal, The_, cited, 24 n., 401 Folkestone, 386 Ford, John, 359 Fortescue, Sir Anthony, case of, 25 Fortescue, Sir John, 34, 346 "Foscue, Master." _See_ Fortescue, Sir John Fossett, Temperance, 409 Foster, Ann, trial of, 282, 415 Fowles, Susanna, case of, 323 n. Foxcroft, H. C., cited, 341 n. France, Hester, 408 Francis, Elizabeth, her two trials, 35-40, 385 Francis, Mother, 400, 401 Frankfort, 15 n. Frankland, Richard, 316, 319 Fraunces, Margaret, 394 Free, Goody, 412 Freeman, Alice, 84, 393 Freeman, Mary, 83 _French Intelligencer_, cited, 213 n., 215 n., 408 Fulham, 411 Fuller, John, cited, 207 n., 407 Fuller, Thomas, cited, 90 n., 139 n., 140 n., 143, 144 _Fustis Dæmonum_, cited, 79 n. Gabley, Mother, 389 Gaddesden, Little, 256 Gairdner, James, cited, 9 n. Gallis, Richard, 347 Gardiner, Mr. and Mrs., 324 Gardiner, the Rev. Mr., 375 Gardiner, Catherine, 132 n. Gardiner, Ralph, cited, 208, 209 n., 407 Gargrave, 410 Garve, Mother, 387 Gaskin, Emmy, 414 Gateshead, 210, 219 n., 407 Gaule, John, 165, 174-175, 186-187, 192, 196, 236-237, 241, 242 Gee, John, cited, 139 n. Geneva, 14, 15, 87 n., 233 _Gentleman's Magazine_, cited, 95 n., 143 n., 160 n., 269 n., 279 n., 359, 367, 389, 396, 401, 412, 413, 415, 417 Gerard, Sir Gilbert, 34, 346 Gerish, W. B., cited, 375 Gibbons, A., cited, 189 n., 406 Gibson, "Coz.," 222 Gifford, George, 54, 57 n., 70-72, 242, 243. Cited, 390, 394, 395 Gill, Helena, 390 Gilston, 328 n. Gilston, Matthew, 335 Gisborough, 411 Glance of a witch, instances of, 111, 112, 135 Glanvill, Joseph, 101, 196 n., 238, 273-276, 285-293, 297, 299, 300, 303, 306, 307, 309, 310, 314, 327, 336, 337. Cited, 221 n., 222 n., 251 n., 260 n., 308 n., 405, 408, 411, 413 Globe theatre, The, 159 Gloucester, 208, 407 Gloucester, Duchess of, 4, 8 Gloucester, Richard of, 9 Glover, Mary, 138, 355, 395 Glover, Stephen, cited, 396 Godbolt, John, 178, 192 Godfrey, Agnes, 393, 397 Goldsmith, Mr., 332 "Good Witches," 21-27, 29, 220, 229, 259-260 Goodcole, Henry, 112, 359 Gooderidge, Alse, 76-78, 349, 392 Gooding, Elizabeth, 169-170 Gough, Richard, 375 Goulding, R. W., cited, 396, 401 Gordon, Rev. Alexander, cited, 317 n., 319 n. Grainge, William, 360 Grame, Margaret, 391 "Grantam's curse," 88 Grantly, Anne, 419 Great Staughton, 186-187 "Great T.," "Mother W. of," 395 Great Yarmouth, 181, 386. _See also_ Yarmouth Greedie, Joan, 401 Green, Ellen, 399 Greene, Anne, 410 Greene, Ellen, 133 n. Greenleife, Mary (of Alresford), 170-171 "Greenliefe of Barton," 404 Greenslet, Ferris, cited, 286 n. Greenwel, Thomas, 371 Greenwich, 154 Grevell, Margaret, 44 Griffiths, Sarah, 419 Grimes, Mr., 332 Grimston, Sir Harbottle, 167 n. Grindall, Edmund, Bp. of London, then Abp. of Canterbury, 15 n. Guildford, 322 Guilford, Baron. _See_ Francis North Gunpowder Plot, 123, 232 Gurney, Elizabeth, 406 Guy, Mary, 418 Gyngell, Margaret, 225, 410 Habakkuk, transportation of, 97 Hackett, Margaret, 390 Hackney, 415 Haigh, 414 Hale, Sir Matthew, 67, 261-268, 283, 304, 321, 334, 336, 337, 339 n., 367 Hale, William H., cited, 10 n., 21 n., 22 n., 29 n., 385 Halifax, Marquis of, opinion of, 341 Hall, John, 352 Hall, Joseph, Bishop, 180 Hall, Mary, 256, 257 Halliwell-Phillips, J. O., 142 n., 306 n. Hallybread, Rose, 362, 376 Hallywell, Henry, 303 and n., 304, 307 Hamilton, A. H. A., cited, 417 Hammer, 404 Hammersmith, case at, 323 n. Hammond, of Westminster, 402 Hampstead, 396, 398 Hampton Court, 13 Handford, Abigail, 418 Hanover, Susanna, 419 Hansen, J., cited, 3 n. Harington, Sir John, 140 n. Harland and Wilkinson, cited, 419 Harmondsworth, 386 Harris, Alice, 132 n. Harris, Eleonora, 417 Harris, Elizabeth, 201 n. Harris, Marie, 417 Harris, Susannah, 419 Harrison, Mr., 44 Harrison, Henry, 388 Harrison, Johanna, of Royston, 108-109, 111, 135, 383, 396 Harrison, Margaret, 356 Harrison, William, 367 Harrod, H., cited, 182 n., 386, 389, 390, 405 Harrogate, 360 Harrow, Weald, 390 Harsnett, Samuel, later Abp. of York, 12, 51, 85-92, 138, 227, 233, 349, 353-356. Cited, 390-393 Hart, 389 Hart, Anne, 418 Hart, Prudence, 170 Hart Hall, Oxford, 57 Hartis, 418 Hartley, Edmund, 52, 79-80, 392 Harvey, Gabriel, 69 n. Harvey, Joane, 400 Harvey, Thomas, 411 Harvey, William, 154, 160-162 Harwood, Goodwife, 256 Hatfield Peverel, 41 Hathaway, Richard, 322-324, 371 Hathericke, Sara, 401 Hatsell, Sir Henry, 323 Haverhill, 404 Hazlitt, W. C., cited, 350-352, 368 Heddenham, 406 Heddon, Margaret, 415 Hele, N. F., cited, 183 n., 191 n., 200 n., 405 Hemloke, Sir Henry, 324 Hempstead, 404 Hengler, Elizabeth, 417 Henry IV, 4, 7 Henry VI, 4, 7 Henry VIII, 20, 30, 58 n. _See also_ Statutes. Heptenstall, 406 Herbert, Sir Edward, 311 n. Herd, Annis, 44, 388 Hereford, Bishop of, 12, 15 n. Hertford, trials at 134-135, 314, 324-330, 383, 394, 396, 419 Hertfordshire, 118, 367, 374, 391, 392, 408, 412, 414, 417 _Hertfordshire County Sessions, Rolls_, cited, 21 n., 221 n., 391, 412, 414 Hewitt, Katherine, 383 Heylyn, Peter, cited, 143 n. Heyrick, Robert, 141, 398 Heywood, Oliver, 256, 307, 316, 319. Cited, 416 Heywood, Thomas, 306 n.; play of, 158-159; opinions expressed in play of, 244-245. Cited, 244 n. Hicke, Mr., 379 Hinchcliffe, Joseph, 416 _Hist. MSS. Comm. Reports_, cited, 114 n., and _passim_ thereafter Hitcham, 404 Hitchin, 367 Hoarstones, 148, 156 Hobart, Sir Henry, 134 Hobbes, Thomas, 241, 246-249, 291, 307 Holborn, 393, 398 Hole, Elizabeth, case of, 324 Holinshed, cited, 54-55, 59 n., 350, 387, 388, 390 Holland, Henry, 72 n. Hollingsworth, A. G., cited, 183 n., 404 Holt, Sir John, 267; nullified statute of James I; gave repeated acquittals, 320-323; his ruling on the water ordeal, 332 Homes, Nathaniel, opinions of, 240. Cited, 240 n. Hooke, William, 45 n. Hopkins, James, 164 Hopkins, Matthew, 164-205, 339, 376, 378 Hopwood, Mr., 79 n. Horace, 89 Horner, Elizabeth, 321-322, 418 Hott, Jane, 201 n., 405 Houghton, Lord, 359 Housegoe, Elizabeth, 393 Howard, Henry, later Earl of Northampton, 352 Howell, James, 180, 195, 245 Howell, T. B. and T. J., cited, 116 n., 144 n., 233 n. Howsell, Anne, 405 Howson, Helen, 406 Hubbard, Elizabeth, 404 Huddersfield, 408 Hudson, Ann, 407 Hughes, Lewis, 355, 395 Hulton, John, 209 Humphrey, of Gloucester, Duke, 8 Hunnam, Anne, 409 Hunniman, Joice, 162 n., 402 Hunt, widow, 45 n. Hunt, Joan, 383, 398 Hunt, Robert, 260, 273, 411, 413 Hunter, Joseph, cited, 92 n., 256 n., 413 Huntingdon, 49-51, 185 n., 200 n., 237 n., 314 n., 348, 362, 375, 383, 419 Huntingdonshire, 47-51, 185-187, 192, 236, 348, 375-383, 405 Huson, Alice, 413 Hutchinson, Francis, 175, 195-198, 313, 321, 331, 340-343, 355, 375, 380, 381. Cited, 11 n., 179 n., 321-323 n., 328 n., 395, 411, 413, 416, 418 Huxley, Catherine, 216, 409 Ilkeston, 407 Images, alleged use of in witchcraft, 6, 59-60, 109-110, 125-127 Incendiarism ascribed to witchcraft, 282-283, 333 Inderwick, F. A., cited, 201 n., 225 n., 226 n., 268 n., 269 n., 270 n., 311 n., 333, 376, 410, 414-419 Ipswich, 164, 175, 182, 320, 394, 405, 414, 417, 418 Jackson, Elizabeth, 138, 355, 395 James I, 69, 90 n., 93-119, 130, 132, 134, 137-145, 146, 165, 189, 203, 227, 228, 229 n., 232, 234, 241-242, 247, 250, 254, 255, 260, 267, 276, 312, 314, 331. His Scottish experience, 93-96; his _Dæmonologie_, 97-101; his statute and its effect, 101-109; distribution of witchcraft in his realm, 118-119; his changing attitude, 138-145 James II, 308 James, G. P. R., cited, 340 n., 342 n. Jeffreys, George, Baron, 311 n. Jeffries, Anne, 405 Jenkinson, Helen, 383 Jennings, Lady, 400 Jeopardy, neglect of legal restriction on, 128 and n., 145 n. Jewel, John, Bishop of Salisbury, 15-17 Joan of Arc, 230 Johnson, Margaret, 154, 156, 157, 159 Johnson, W. S., cited, 244 n. Johnstone, James, 341 Jollie, Thomas, 316-319, 329, 372-373 Jones, J. O., cited, 164 n., 181 n., 182 n., 188 n. Jonson, Ben, 91-92, 244, 387 Jordan, Jane, 393 Jorden, Dr. Edward, 138, 355, 395 Jourdemain, Margery, 7-9 Jurdie, Jone, 396 Keiston, 185 Kelly, William, cited, 141 n., 398 Kelyng, Sir John, 265, 267, 305 Kemp, Ursley, trial of, 41, 43 Kennet, Elizabeth, 412 Kent, 21 n., 54, 57, 60, 119, 201, 255, 350, 383, 385, 386, 388, 389, 390, 392, 393, 394, 401, 403, 405, 408, 412, 416, 418 Kent, Holy Maid of. _See_ Barton, Elizabeth Kerke, Anne, 394 Kerke, Joan, 51 Kidderminster, 412 Kimbolton, 186 King, of Acton, 404 King, Peter, 380 King's Lynn, 54, 116-117, 183, 231, 358, 384, 389, 391, 393, 399, 405 Kingston, 419 Kingston-upon-Hull, 389 Kittredge, G. L., cited, 298, 301, 383 Knipp, Agnes and John, 415 Knott, Elizabeth, 208 n., 407 Knowles, Sir William, 154 Knumerton, Dewnes, 417 Lake, Sir Thomas, 115 n., 396 Lakeland, Mother, 182, 200 n., 381, 405 Laleham, 387 Lambe, Dr., 211 Lambe, Elizabeth, 410 Lambeth, 354 Lanam, Elizabeth, 408 Lancashire, 52, 78-81, 92, 108-113, 115-116, 118, 120-130, 146-160, 307, 314-319, 393, 399, 402, 406, 414, 416, 419; Starchie affair, 78-81, 92; trials of 1612, 120-130; trials of 1634, 146-156; Dugdale affair of 1689, 315-319 Lancaster, 120, 151, 156, 158, 171, 224, 229 n., 273, 383, 392, 397, 401, 402 Lancaster, chancellor of the Duchy of, 152 n. Landgate, 414 Landis, Margaret, 362, 376 Land's End, 217-218, 409 Langton, Walter, 6 Lathom, 402 Latimer, John, cited, 400 Latton, 414 Launceston, 218 n., 409, 418 Lavenham, 404 Law, John, 111 n. Law, T. G., cited, 74 n., 87 n., 353 Lawe, Alison, 389 Lea, H. C., his definition of a witch, 4. Cited, 3 n., 99 n. Leach, Jeffrey, 389 Lecky, W. E. H., 196 Lee, Dorothy, 405 Leech, Anne, 170, 174, 379 Leeds, 219, 410 Leepish, 401 Legge, cited, 138 n., 225 n. Leicester, 54, 119 n., 120, 140-141, 218, 330-331, 384, 392, 398, 399, 402, 408, 419 _Leicester, Records of the Borough of_, cited, 54 n. Leicestershire, 51, 118, 133 n., 146, 359, 397 _Leicestershire and Rutland, Notes and Queries_, cited, 218 n., 399, 402, 408, 419 Levingston, Anne, 214 Lewes, 387 Lichfield, Bishop of (Walter Langton), 6; (Thomas Morton), 141-142, 152 Liebermann, F., cited, 2 n. Lincoln, 118, 119 n., 120; trials of 1618-1619, 132, 383, 399 Lincoln, Bishop of, 7, 8, 12, 49, 50 Lincolnshire, 396, 401 Lingwood, Joan, 389 Linneston, 401 Linton, Mrs. Lynn, cited, 29 n., 95 n., 386 Lister, Mr., 111 note, 112, 129 Little Gaddesden, 256 Liverpool, 414 Lloyd, Temperance, 271-272, 368-369, 416 Lloyd, William, Bishop of Worcester, 340 Lloynd's wife, 150 Lock, John, 408 Locke, John, 340 Lodge, Edmund, cited, 139 n. Lodge, Sir Oliver, 238 Londesdale, Elizabeth, 401 London, 9, 25, 26, 30 n., 51, 59, 154, 159, 160, 173, 177, 210 n., 216, 277-278, 309, 320, 322, 323, 329, 384, 385, 394, 395, 399, 409, 416 London, Bishop of, 8, 9 n., 12, 30 n., 84, 384, 387. _See also_ Grindall, E.; Bancroft, R. _London Post_, cited, 419 Long, Sir James, 268 Longwitton, 279, 416 Lords' _Journal_, cited, 102 n., 103 n. Lord's Prayer, testing of witches by, 40, 80, 271, 282, 326 Lothbury, 30 n., 88 n. Loudon, Elizabeth, 410 Louth, 396, 401 Low, Goody, 404 Lower, M. A., cited, 386 Lowes, John, case of, 165 n., 175-179, 197, 378, 379 Lowestoft, 262, 263 Lowndes, cited, 347, 350, 359, 364, 386, 390, 392 Loy, Margaret, 414 Lucas, Hugh, 112 Lucas, Jane, 110 n., 112 Luther, Martin, attitude of, towards exorcism, 87 n. Lyme, 385 Lynn. _See_ King's Lynn Mackenzie, E., cited, 259 n., 401, 416 Mackerell, Benjamin, cited, 391, 393, 399, 405 Mackie, S. J., cited, 386 _Magazine of Scandall_, cited, 176 n., 197 n. Magick, Dorothy, 398 Maidstone, cases at, 215-216, 238, 241, 283, 408, 412 Maitland, S. R., cited, 353 Malborne, Sir John, book of, 63 Maldon, 41, 54, 70 n. Malking Tower, meeting of witches at, 113, 123-129, 147, 148, 383 Mallory, Lady Elizabeth, 223, 411 Malmesbury, alarm at, 269-270, 409, 417 Malter, wife of, 385 Manchester, 79 Manners, Francis, Earl of Rutland, 132-134, 359 Manners, Lord Francis, 133, 134 n. Manners, Lord Henry, 134 n. Manners, Lady Katherine, 134 n. Manningtree, 164, 165, 173, 193, 194 Mansfield, 75 Manship, cited, 182 n. Manwood, Sir Roger, 56 Marchant, Anne, 409 Margaret, Mother, 28 n. Marks, use of as a test of witchcraft, 36, 40, 45, 77, 99, 108, 151, 154-155, 156-157, 167, 190, 218, 229, 230, 242, 243, 264, 284, 330 Martin, Dr., 323 Mary I, 14, 15 n., 52 Mary, Queen of Scots, 18, 25, 26, 53 Mascon, Demon of, 306, 337 n. Mason, of Faversham, 54 Mason, James, and his opinions, 229 n. Massachusetts, trials in, 50, 264, 316, 382 Mathers, the (Cotton and Increase), 316, 336 Matthews, Grace, 216-217 Mayhall, John, cited, 395 Meakins, Bridget, 399 Meere, John, 390 Melford, 404 Melton, Elizabeth, 393 _Mercurius Aulicus_, cited, 403 _Mercurius Civicus_, cited, 360, 403 _Mercurius Democritus_, cited, 213 n., 251 n., 408 _Mercurius Politicus_, cited, 218 n., 409 Mereweather, Jone, 413 Merlin, 230 Merril, Goodman, 171 n. Merriman, R. B., cited, 74 n. Mersam, Rose, 396 Mewkarr Church, 396 Middlesex, 51, 74, 118, 146, 174, 201, 208 n., 220, 224, 225, 278, 383-387, 389-394, 396-400, 402, 403, 405-412, 415, 419 _Middlesex County Records_, cited, 21 n., 220 n., 386, and _passim_ thereafter Middleton, Thomas, 244 Midgley, Mary, 406 Midwife as a witch, 21 and n., 41, 258-259 Milburne, Jane, 279 Milburne, Margaret, 415 Miller, Agnes, 399 Mills, Elizabeth, 415 Mills, Joan, 414 Milner, Ralph, 117, 396 Milnes, R. Monckton, 102 n., 359 Mils, Goody, 404 Milton, John, 241, 278 Milton, Miles, 398 Mistley-cum-Manningtree, 164 n. Mob law, 117, 315 _Moderate Intelligencer_, its opinion of the Bury executions in 1645, 179-180. Cited, 177 n., 180 n., 404 Molland, Alicia, 417 Mompesson affair, 273, 276, 310 Mondaye, Agnes, 385 Montague, James, Bp. of Winchester, 97 n. Montgomery, 387 Moone, Margaret, 170 n. Moordike, Sarah, case of, 322-324, 419 Moore, wife of, 189 n., 406 Moore, Ales, 395 Moore, Ann, 418 Moore, Mary, 363 _Moore Rental, The_, cited, 414 Morduck, Sarah. _See_ Moordike More, George, 81, 84-85, 353, 354. Cited, 78 n., 79 n., 80 n., 392 More, Henry, 238-240, 243, 262, 286, 297, 303, 307, 309, 310. Cited, 211 n., 239, 394, 396, 405, 410 More, Sir Thomas, 59 n. Mortimer, Jane, 52 n., 392 Morton, Margaret, 408 Morton, Thomas, Bishop of Lichfield, 141 n., 142, 152 Much, Barfield, 387 Muggleton, Lodowick, and witchcraft, 295, 298, 307, 309. Cited, 295 n. Munnings, Mother, trial of, 321, 418 Muschamp, Mrs., 210, 218, 253, 363 Muschamp, George, 209, 210 N., N., 318 n., 372 Nall, J. G., cited, 181 n. Napier, Dr., 400 Napier, Barbara, 96 Nash, J. R., cited, 412 Nash, Thomas, cited, 69 n. Navestock, 385 Naylor, Joane, 394 Needham, 404 Nelson, Richard, 394 Nevelson, Anne, 395 New England. _See_ Massachusetts New Romney, 59 Newbury, 403 Newcastle, 201, 207-208, 259, 279, 281, 407, 412, 413, 414 Newell, Sir Henry, 27, 28 Newgate, 183 n., 400 _Newgate, A True and Perfect List of the Prisoners in_, cited, 409 Newman, Ales, 45 n. Newman, Elizabeth, 410 Newman, William, 45 n. Newmarket, 134, 161 Newton, Isaac, 308 Nicholas (or Nickless), Jane, 417 Nichols, John, cited, 134 n., 141 n., 399 Nicholson, Brinsley, 58, 62, 70 n. Nicolas, Sir Harris, cited, 8 n. Noake, J., 412 Noal, Jane, 417 Norfolk, 193, 200 n., 231, 253, 337, 356, 386, 389-391, 394, 395, 397, 399-401, 403-406, 410, 412, 414 _Norfolk Archæology_, cited, 182, 386, 390, 405 Norrington, Alice, 59, 386 Norrington, Mildred, 59, 62 North, Francis, Baron Guilford, 269 n., 271, 272, 278, 305, 311 North, Roger, 267. Cited, 261 n., 269 n., 271 n., 278 n., 403, 416, 417 North Allerton, 400 North Riding (of Yorkshire), 117 North Riding Record Society, 114 n., 117 n., 162 n. Northampton, 106-112, 115, 118, 119 n., 120, 130-132, 184, 229, 230, 255, 314 n., 357, 375-383, 415, 419 Northampton, Henry Howard, Earl of, 352 Northamptonshire, 184, 200 n., 282, 331, 405, 411 _Northamptonshire Handbook_, 381-382 _Northamptonshire Historical Collections_, 381 Northfield, Thomas, 7 Northfleet, 394 Northumberland, 52, 146, 208 n., 209, 210, 220, 224, 282, 390, 395, 401, 407, 412, 414, 415, 416 Norton, mother and daughter, 330, 333, 419 Norwich, 7 n., 400, 401, 406, 412 Norwich, Bishop of, 7 n., 8, 15 n., 89 _Notes and Queries_, cited, 164 n., 321 n., 380, 418, 419 Nottingham, 75, 81-86, 118, 315, 389, 393, 394 _Nottingham, Records of the Borough of_, cited, 394 Nottinghamshire, 51, 234 Nowell, Roger, 123 Nutter, Alice, trial of, 113, 116, 126-127, 383 Nutter, Christopher, 127 Nutter, Robert, 128 Oakham, 411 Ogle, Henry, 208, 209, 259 n. Old Bailey, 108 n., 213 Oliver, Mary, 412 Onslow, Speaker, 268 Orchard, widow, 412 Orchard, N., 296 n. Oriel College, Oxford, 294 Orme, W., cited, 337 n. Osborne, Francis, 143-144, 245-246, 291. Cited, 141 n., 143, 246 n. Owen, John, cited, 287 n. Owen, and Blakeway, cited, 21 n., 387 Oxford, Samuel Parker, Bishop of, 308, 309 Oxford, 15, 63, 146 n., 216, 285, 402 Oxford University, 131, 216, 285; Hart Hall, 57; Oriel College, 294; Trinity College, 131-132 Pacy, Mr., 265 Padiham, 150 n., 399 Padston, 388 Palmer, C. J., cited, 182 n., 389, 390 Palmer, John, 208 n. Pannel, Mary, 383, 395 Paracelsus, 286 Paris, University of, formulated theory concerning pacts with Satan, 3 Parker, Matthew, Archbishop of Canterbury, 30, 88 n. Parker, Samuel, Bishop of Oxford, 308, 309 Parker, Thomas, Earl of Macclesfield, 314, 320, 330-331, 332 n., 380 Parkhurst, John, Bishop of Norwich, 15 n. Parle, M., 417 _Parliamentary History_, cited, 12 n., 102 n. Peacock, a schoolmaster, tortured, 115 n., 399 Peacock, Edward, 401 Peacock, Elizabeth, 269, 270, 414, 415, 417 Pearson, Margaret, 397 Pechey, Joan, 45 n. Peck, Francis, cited, 172 n., 403 Peckham, Sir George, 74 n. Pelham, 151 n. Pellican, cited, 15 n. Pemberton, Sir Francis, 277 Pembroke, Simon, 387 Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, 89 Pendle Hill, or Forest, 121, 147, 315, 397 Pepper, Mrs., 259, 413 Pepys, Samuel, 309 Pereson, Jennet, 385 _Perfect Diurnal, A_, cited, 403 Perkins, William, 227-230, 240, 241, 242, 243 Perry, William, the "boy of Bilston," 140-142 Peter Martyr, 16 n. Peter, R. and O. B., cited, 218 n., 409 Peterson, Joan, case of, 213-215, 408 Petty treason, its penalty not to be confused with that of witchcraft, 182 Phillips, Goody, 183 Phillips, John, 346, 351 Phillips, Mary, 382 Phippan, Honora, 417 Pickering, Gilbert, 47, 131 n. Pickering, Sir Gilbert, 131 n. Pickering, Henry, 48 Pickering, Thomas, 228 n. Pickerings, the, 348 Pico della Mirandola, 286 Piers, Anne, 388 Pike, L. O., cited, 7 Pillory, punishment of, 30, 55, 104, 114 Pilton, Margaret, 398 Pinder, Rachel, 30 n., 59, 88, 351, 386 Pitcairn, Robert, cited, 95 n. Plato, 238 _Pleasant Treatise of Witches, A_, 296 Plummer, Colonel, 328 n. Poeton, Edward, cited, 400 Pole, Arthur, 25 Pole, Edmund, 25 Pollock and Maitland, cited, 6 and n., 7 n. Popham, Sir John, 354 Potts, Thomas, 112, 113, 116, 125, 129, 130, 249, 357-358, 361. Cited, 105-128 n., _passim_, 397, 398 Powell, Sir John, 272 n., 314, 320, 324, 327-328, 329, 330, 335, 374 Powell, Lady, 214-215 Powell, William, 346 Powle, ----, 409 Powstead, 404 Pregnancy, plea of, in delay of execution, 50, 96 Prentice, Joan, 348 Presbyterian party, its part in Hopkins crusade, 195-201 Prestall, John, 25, 387, 397 Preston, Jennet, 111 n., 112, 129, 249, 383, 398 Price, Joan, 409 Privy Council, its dealings with sorcerers, in the later Middle Ages, 4-10; its campaign against conjurers under Elizabeth, 26-27; the Abingdon trials, 27-28, 30 n.; the Chelmsford trials, 34; Dee's case, 53-54; Darrel's, 87; its part in the statute of James I, 103; in the Lancashire trials of 1633, 152, 155, 156; in the Somerset cases of 1664, 273. _See also Acts of the Privy Council_ and _Council Register_. _Protestant Post Boy, The_, 374 Prowting, Mary, 402 Queen's College, Cambridge, 143, 348 R., G., 374 R., H., 390 Rainsford, Sir Richard, 260, 268-269, 269-270, 304 Rames, Nicholas, wife of, 279 Ramsay, Sir J. R., cited, 9 n. Ramsbury, 389 Rand, Margaret, 391 Randall, 397 Randall, of Lavenham, 404 Randoll, 388 Ratcliffe, 404 Ratcliffe, Agnes, 136 n. Rattlesden, 404 Rawlins, Anna, 416 Raymond, Sir Thomas, 260, 270-271, 271-272, 278, 283, 304, 321 Read, Joan, 217 Read, Margaret, 391 Read, Simon, 397 Redfearne, Anne, 126 n., 127-128, 383 Redman, 258 Repington, Philip, Bp. of Lincoln, 7 Reresby, Sir John, 272 n., 305, 311. Cited, 417 Rhymes, Witch, 24, 76 Rich, Robert, Earl of Warwick, 172, 178, 200 Richard III, 9 Richardson, M. A., cited, 117 n., 219 n., 395, 409, 412 Richmond, of Bramford, 404 Richmond (Yorkshire), 396 Richmond and Lenox, Duke of, 287 Risden, 188 n., 406 Rivet, John, 166 Roach, Clara, 418 Roberts, Alexander, 227, 231, 235. Cited, 117 n., 231 n., 399. Roberts, Elizabeth, 394, 410 Roberts, George, cited, 279 n., 385, 417 Roberts, Joan, 407 Robey, Isabel, 384 Robinson, Edmund, 146-157, 298, 323 Robson, Jane, 401 Rochester, 63, 388 Rodes, Sara, 218 Rogers, Lydia, 366, 411 Roper, Margaret, 75, 390 Rose, Goodwife, 402 Rossington, 396 Rous, Francis, 240 Row, Elizabeth, 415 Roxburghe Club, cited, 95 n. Royal Society, the, 275, 285, 286, 305, 306, 308-309 Royston, 109, 111 Ruceulver, 404 Rushock, 412 Russel, Margaret, 400 Rutland, Earl of. _See_ Manners Rutlandshire, 411 Rutter, Elizabeth, 383, 399 Ryder, Agnes, 417 Rye, 116, 383, 397, 405 Rylens, Martha, 416 Ryley, Josia, 393 Rymer, cited, 7 S., Alice, 52 n., 394 Sabbath, the Witch, 3, 113, 123-124, 148, 166, 170, 186, 239, 273, 281-282 Saffron Walden, 394 Saint Alban's, 208 n., 252 n., 363, 407, 408, 417 Saint Andrew's in Holborne, 393, 398 Saint Giles's, Northampton, 382 Saint Giles-in-the-Fields, 393 Saint John's, Kent, 385, 389 Saint Katharine's, 394 Saint Lawrence, 393 Saint Leonard's, Shoreditch, 403 Saint Martin's-in-the-Fields, 389, 406, 409 Saint Mary's, Nottingham, 83 Saint Osyth's, 41-46, 58, 70, 125, 388 Saint Paul's, 13; public penance in, 59 Saint Paul's, Dean of, 11 n. Saint Peter's, Kent, 389, 392, 393 Saint Saviour's, Southwark, 387 Salem. _See_ Massachusetts Salisbury, 212, 225, 268, 270-271, 410, 412 Salisbury, Bishop of. _See_ Jewel, John Salmesbury, witches of, 128-129, 398 Salop (Shropshire), 387 Sammon, Margerie, 43, 44, 45 n. Sampson, Agnes, torture of, 95 Samuel, Agnes, 49 Samuel, Alice, trial of, 47-51 Samuel, John, 49 Samuel, Mother. _See_ Alice Samuel Samuels, the (of Warboys), 109, 391 Sandwich, 401, 403, 418 Sanford, 387 Sawyer, Elizabeth, trial of, 108 n., 112, 136 n., 383, 400 Scarborough, 219, 409 Scarfe, of Rattlesden, 404 Schwebel, Johann, 15 n. Scory, John, Bishop of Hereford, 15 n. Scot, Margery, 409 Scot, Reginald, 51, 55, 57-72, 89, 90, 97, 142, 160, 227, 228-231, 235, 239, 241, 242, 243, 249, 291, 294 n., 296, 298, 301, 310, 312, 342. Cited, 20 n., 28 n., 46 n., 296 n., 347, 348, 386, 387, 388 Scot, Sir Thomas, 56 _Scotland, Register of the Privy Council of_, cited 96 n. _Scotland and the Commonwealth_, cited, 225 Scots-Hall, 57 Scott, John, cited, 391, 393 Scott, Sir Walter, 196, 275. Cited, 199 n., 366 _Scottish Dove, The_, cited, 404 Seaford, 386 Seccombe, Thomas, cited, 164 n., 181 n. Seeze, Betty, 417 Selden, John, 246-248, 262. Cited, 247 n., 248 n. Serjeantson, Rev. R. M., 382 Sewel, William, 296 n. Shadbrook, 350, 393, 394 Shadwell, Thomas, 121, 309; his opinions, 306-307 Shakespeare, William, used Harsnett, 91; allusions in _Twelfth Night_ of, 92; his witch-lore, 243 Shalock, Anthony, 171 n. Shaw, Elinor, 382 Sheahan, J. J., cited, 389 Shelley, 404 Shelley, Jane, 391 Shepton, Mallet, 411 Sherlock, Thomas, 374 Ship Tavern, at Greenwich, 154 Shore, Jane, 9 Shoreditch, 403 Shrewsbury, Earl of, 12, 19 n., 26 Shrewsbury, Duke of, 341 Shropshire (Salop), 387 _Shuttleworths, House and Farm Accounts of the_, cited, 399 Simmons, Margaret, 388 Simpson, Elizabeth, 412 Simpson, Jane, 413 Simpson, Robert, cited, 396 Simpson, Susan, 409 Sinclar (or Sinclair), George, cited, 355, 366, 395 Skipsey, 407 Slade, Anne, 414 Slingsby, Sir William, 400 Smith, of Chinting, 387 Smith, Charlotte Fell, cited, 53 n. Smith, Elizabeth, 408 Smith, Elleine, 39 n., 40 Smith, Gilbert, 399 Smith, Mary, 231, 358, 384, 399 Smith, Sir Thomas, 25 n., 385 Smithfield, 9 Smythe, Elizabeth, 406 Smythe, Katharine, 386 Somers, William, 51, 81-86, 92, 315, 353, 393 Somerset, 146, 220, 222, 224, 234, 254, 260, 273, 280, 285, 293, 320, 388, 392, 393, 401, 402, 411, 413-419 Somerset, the protector, repeal of felonies during his protectorate, 12; attitude of, 13 Sorcery, distinguished from witchcraft, 3-4 Southampton, 387 Southampton, Earl of, 12 Southcole, Justice, 346 Southcote, John, 34 Southerns, Elizabeth. _See_ Demdike Southton, 415, 416 Southwark, 164, 256, 277, 321, 323, 387, 419 Southwell, Thomas, 8 Southworth. _See_ Master Thompson Sowerbutts, Grace, part in Salmesbury cases, 128-129, 139, 140, 151 _Spectator, The_, 341 n. Spectral evidence, 110-111, 131 n., 184, 218, 221-222, 235-236, 263-264, 279, 279 n. Speier, 15 n. Spencer, Anne, 402 Spencer, Mary, 152, 157, 159, 160, 401 Spokes, Helen, 393 Staffordshire, 118, 141, 146, 386, 389, 400, 402 Stanford Rivers, 34 Stanhope, 388 Stanmore, 390 Star Chamber, Dee examined by the, 52 Starchie, Mrs., 79 n. Starchie, John, 149 n. Starchie, Nicholas, children of, 78-81, 158 Starr, William, 409 Stationers' _Registers_, cited, 347, 350, 352, 358 Statutes: 1 Edward VI, cap. xii (repeal of felonies), 12; 3 Henry VIII, cap. xi, 10 n.; 33 Henry VIII, cap. viii, 10-12; 5 Elizabeth, cap. xvi, 5, 14, 15, 17, 101-102; 1 James I, cap. xii, 102-104, 314 Staunton, Mother, 39 n., 387 Stearne, John, 164-205 _passim_ (in text and notes), 339, 361, 362, 404. Cited, 403-406. Stebbing, Henry, 335, 374, 375 Steele, Sir Richard, 342 Stephen, Sir J. F., cited, 10 n., 11 n. Stephen, Leslie, cited, 287 n. Stephens, Edward, 339 n. Stepney, 405, 408, 410, 411, 412 Sterland, Mr., 83 Stevens, Margaret, 415 Stevens, Maria, 419 Stoll, Elmer, cited, 244 n. Stonden, 414 Stothard, Margaret, 259, 416 Stow, John, cited, 59 n., 350 Stowmarket, 183, 404 Stranger, Dorothy, 279, 413 Strangridge, Old, 238 Strassburg, 15 n. Stratford-at-Bow, 406, 407 Strotton, 414 Strutt, the Rev. Mr., 326, 327, 375 Strype, John, cited, 16 n., 17 n., 25 n., 26 n., 27 n., 385, 390 Stuart, Charles, Duke of Richmond and Lenox, 287 Studley Hall, 223 Style, Elizabeth, 280, 413 Sudbury, 404 Suffolk, 164, 165 n., 175, 176 n., 183, 194, 195, 197, 224, 337, 350, 379, 392, 393, 394, 404, 405, 411, 413, 414, 417, 418 _Suffolk Institute of Archæology, Proceedings of_, 176 n. Surey, affair of. _See_ Dugdale Surrey, 416, 419 Sussex, 282, 386, 387, 397, 405, 412 _Sussex Archæological Collections_, 283 n., 386, 412 Sussums, Alexander, 404 Sutton, 406 Sutton, Mary, 110-111, 118 n., 136, 383, 398 Sutton, Mother, 107-108, 115, 117, 135-136, 358, 383, 398 Swan, John, 90 n., 355. Cited, 395 Swan Inn, Maidstone, 215 Swane, Goodwife, 389 Swinow, Colonel, 209 Swinow, Dorothy, 209-210, 211, 408 Swithland, 399 Swynbourne, Richard, wife of, 393 Sykes, John, cited, 30 n., 407, 414 Sykes, Mary, 218, 407 T., R., 295 Talbot, Charles, Duke of Shrewsbury, 341-342 Talbot, George, Earl of Shrewsbury, 19 n., 26 Tanner, Joanna, 419 _Tatler, The_, 342 n. Taunton, 234, 235, 260, 401, 403, 413, 417, 418 Taunton-Dean, 278, 417 Taylor, Robert, 170 Taylor, Zachary, 317-318, 329, 372, 373 Tedsall, Agnes, 402 Tedworth, affair of, 274-276, 303 n. Tempest, Henry, 218 Temple, Sir William, 309 Tendering, John, 46 n. Test of bleeding of dead body, 112, 301; of repetition of certain words, 49, 109; of thatch-burning, 112; of swimming (see Water, ordeal of) Theodore of Tarsus, 2 Therfield, 374 Theydon, Mount, 385 Thievery and Witchcraft, 122, 222, 326 Thirple, 374 Thirsk, 397 Thompson, James, cited, 201 n., 408 Thompson, Katherine, 395 Thompson, Master, 129 Thorne, Anne, accuser of Jane Wenham, 324-330, 334-336 Thorneton, Jane, 386 Thorpe, Benjamin, cited, 2 n. Thrapston, 184-185 Throckmorton, Sir Robert, 47, 50 Throckmortons, the, 348 Throgmorton, George, 385 Throgmorton, Lady Frances, 384 Thurlow, Grace, 41, 42 Tichmarsh, 131 n. Tilbrooke-bushes, 188 n. Tilling, Ann, 269-270, 415, 417 Tolbooth, the, 96 Torture, of Alse Gooderidge, 77; by the bootes, 96; of Peacock, 115 n., 203; perhaps used at Lincoln, 134; unknown to English law, 167; of Lowes, by walking, 176-177; Hopkins's and Stearne's theory and practice as to, 202-204; advocated by Perkins, 229; by scratching, 330; by swimming (see Water, ordeal of) Tottenham, 399 Towns, independent jurisdiction of, 54-55, 116-117, 201 Townshend, Jane, 414 Tradescant, John, 216 Transportation of witches through the air, 3, 97, 239, 246 Treasure-seekers, 20 Tree, 387 Trefulback, Stephen, 391 Trelawny, Sir Jonathan, Bishop of Exeter, 321 Trembles, Mary, 271-272, 368-369, 416 Trinity College, Oxford, 131-132; Master of. _See_ Isaac Barrow Turner, William, cited, 405 _Twelfth Night_, allusions in, 92 _Two Terrible Sea-Fights_, cited, 225 n. Tyburn, 51, 394 Tynemouth, 412 _Underhill, Edward, Autobiography of_, cited, 13 Upaston, 418 Upney, Joan, 347 Upsala, 94 Urwen, Jane, 401 Utley, hanged at Lancaster, 158, 401 Uxbridge, 74 n. Vairus, Leonardus, 58 n. Vallet, Jane, 417 Van Helmont, 286 Varden, J. T., cited, 194 n. Vaughan, Joan, 384 Vaughans, the two (Henry and Thomas), 286 Vaux, Lord, 74 n. Vernon, James, 341-342 Vetter, Theodor, cited, 15 n. Vicars, Anne, 383 Vickers, K. H., cited, 9 n. _Victoria History of Essex_, cited, 90 n. Virley, John, 7 W., Mother, of Great T., 395 W., Mother, of W. H., 395 "W. W." and the St. Osyth's pamphlet, 46, 62 n. Waddam, Margaret, 418 Wade, Mary, 223, 411 Wade, William, 221, 223, 411 Wadham, Thomas, 388 Wagg, Ann, 407 Wagstaffe, John, 294-295, 297 Wakefield, 220-221, 411 Waldingfield, 404 Walker, widow, 387 Walker, Ellen, 385 Walker, John, 353, 354 Walker, John (another), cited, 361 Walkerne, 325 Wallis, Joane, 185 n., 187 n. Walsh, John, trial of, 31 n. Walter, Aliena, 414 Walter, Sir John, 235 Walton, Colonel Valentine, 187, 237 n. Wanley, Nathaniel, 307. Cited, 308 n. Wapping, 408, 411 Warboys, trials at, 47-51, 109 n., 131, 143, 160, 185, 221, 229 n., 391 Warburton, Sir Peter, 142 Warburton, Peter, 215 Warden of the Cinque Ports, 116 Warham, William, Abp. of Canterbury, 58 n. Warminster, 398 Warwick, 257, 414 Warwick, Earl of. _See_ Rich Washington, Sir John, 185 "Watching" of witches, practised by Hopkins and Stearne, 167; Gaule's description, 175; Stearne's explanation, 190; Stearne's description, 202; probably practised on Elizabeth Style, 280; practised on a Sussex woman, 283 Water, ordeal of, James recommends it, 99; its use on the Continent, 99 n.; in reign of James, 106-108, 118 n., 132; stopped in Suffolk, 178; in Huntingdonshire, 187; its use by Hopkins and Stearne, 191-192; story that Hopkins was put to it, 194; use at Faversham, 201 n.; Perkins's opinion, 228; Cotta's, 230; Bernard's, 235; Ady's, 242; its decline, 243, 284; increased use of it as an illegal process, 315, 331; forbidden in Jane Wenham's case, 326; at Leicester, 330; in Essex, 331-332; by Holt or Parker, 332; by Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley and his chaplain, 341 Waterhouse, Mother Agnes, trial of, 35-38, 40 n., 45, 385 Waterhouse, Joan, 36 Watson, Jane, 413 Way, Margaretta, 419 Wayt, Mrs., 174 Webb, Mrs., 269 Webb, Goodwife, 39 Webster, John, 141, 147 n., 148-151, 151, 268, 297-303, 314. Cited, 306 n., 359, 400 Weech, Christian, 397 Weeke, 413 Weekes, Christiana, 397, 410 _Weekly Intelligencer_, cited, 213 n., 408 Weight, Mrs., 174 Welfitt, William, cited, 412 Wellam, Margaret, 399 Wells, 389 Wells, Archdeacon of, 235 Welton, 251, 411 Wenham, 164 Wenham, Jane, trial of, 324-330, 380, 381, 419; controversy over, 334-336; her trial the occasion of Hutchinson's book, 342-343 Wentworth, Lord, 12 West, Andrew, 44 West, Anne, 169, and n., 171 West, Rebecca, 169, 170, 171, 362, 376 West, William, cited, 352, 391 West Ayton, 402 West Drayton, 394 West Riding, Yorkshire, 256 Westminster, disputation of, 16 n.; cases at, 139, 384, 386, 391, 402 Weston, Father, 74 n., 87, 352 Westpenner, 388 Westwell, Old Alice of, 59, 386 Weyer (Wier, Wierus), Johann, 62, 79 n., 97, 229 n. Whitaker, Thomas D., cited, 147 n. White, Joan, 391 Whitechapel, 409-410 Whitecrosse Street, 396 Whitgift, John, Archbishop of Canterbury, 74, 84, 88 n. Whitehall, 134 Whitelocke, Bulstrode, 226, 252 n. Cited, 172 n., 179 n., 181 n., 201 n., 206 n., 207 n., 403, 407 Wickham, William, Bishop of Lincoln, 50 Widdowes, Thomas, cited, 366 Widdrington, Thomas, 207 n. Wier, Wierus. _See_ Weyer Wigan, 156 Wildridge, T. T., cited, 137 n. Wilkins, David, cited, 10 n. Wilkinson, Anne, 414 Williams, Katherine, 418 Williams, Robert, cited, 399 Williford, Joan, 201 n., 405 Willimot, Joan, 119 n., 133 n., 399 Wilson, Alice, 109 n. Wilson, Arthur, 143 n., 172 n., 173. Cited, 359, 400, 403 Wilts, 146, 211, 224, 268, 269 n., 274, 285, 397, 398, 401, 409, 410, 412-414, 417-419 Wimblington, 406 Winch, Sir Humphrey, 142 Winchester, Bishop of. _See_ Thomas Bilson, and James Montague Winchester Park, 257 n. Windebank, Secretary, 152, 155 Windsor, 139, 347 Windsor, Dean of, and Abingdon trials, 28 Wingerworth, 416 Witchall, Judith, 269, 270, 415, 417 Witchfinder, Darrel as a, 75-83; Hopkins as a, 165-205; a Scotch pricker as a, 206-208; Ann Armstrong as a, 281-282 Wolsey, Thomas, Abp. of York, 19, 59 n. Women, proportion of to men in indictments for witchcraft, 114; of wives to spinsters and to widows, 114-115 Wood, Anthony à, cited, 295 n., 366 Wood, Joan, 386 Woodbridge, 392 Woodbury, 417 Woodhouse, Doctor, 257 Woodstock, 275 Wooler, 395 Worcester, 7, 216, 376, 387, 406, 409, 412 Worcester, Bishop of, 12, 340 Worcestershire, 208 n. Worthington, John, cited, 180 n. Wright, Elizabeth, 76, 78 n., 392 Wright, Grace, 405 Wright, Katherine, 75, 85, 353 Wright, Thomas, 100, 188 n., 376. Cited, 2 n., 6 n., 7 n., 9 n., 19 n., 25 n., 95 n., 100 n., 147 n., 401 Wrottesley, Lord, 162 n. Wylde, John, 212 Wynnick, John, 185 n., 187 n., 405 Yarmouth, 54, 181, 183, 199, 201, 263, 406. _See also_ Yarmouth, Great Yarmouth, Great, 389, 390, 395, 404 York, 111, 112, 119, 129, 144, 218, 220, 229 n., 249, 383, 389, 394, 398, 400, 413, 417 York, Archbishop of, 83 York Castle, 258 _York Depositions_, 218 n. Cited, _passim_ thereafter Yorkshire, 52, 118, 144, 146, 149-150, 210, 221, 222, 223, 254, 256, 278, 352, 383, 389, 391, 393, 395-397, 400, 402, 406-411, 414-416 _Yorkshire Notes and Queries_, cited, 257 n. Young, Margareta, 418 Young, Ruth, 418 Zurich, 14, 15 n., 87 n. _Zurich Letters_, cited, 17 n. Zweibrücken, 15 n.